Chick flick for men: The Tao of Steve

"Look, men try and achieve success for one reason: to impress women, right? That's the only reason they build companies, write books... or compete in sports and stuff. The problem is, if you figure out how you could get laid without achieving anything... then you could lose your motivation altogether. So there's no reason to get off the couch. "

The Tao of Steve offers a few words of wisdom in dealing with the female types. The movie is targeted at males, but utlimately, the plot is pure chick flick; over romanticized and complete with boy-gets-girl happy ending. 7 out of 10. See it, yo.

Today I spent the majority of the day cleaning my apartment and mentally preparing for my parents' visit. Alas, all my prep work was in vain; 10 minutes after the 'rents arrived, I was contemplating suicide.

“Your apartment looks like a furniture graveyard” My mom commented, pointing to the two mirrors kneeling against the wall.
“I haven’t been home in 2 months and haven’t had sufficient time to re-arrange my furniture since buying it”
“Why is your TV on the floor?” My dad inquired, clearly concerned with his means of entertainment over the next 9 days, 21 hours, and 33 minutes.
“I don’t use it. I was planning on selling it on Craigslist.”
“How do you watch the news?”
“ The ‘net, dad…‘I can gather all the news I need on the weather report’”
“Oi-yo-yoi” my mom sighed, in pure Russian mannerism.

On the semi-bright side, their arrival did force me to clean* my shithole.

*Clean- verb 1) to stuff random shit into random drawers; 2) to place out of sight.

You are the dancing queen, only seventeen…

It’s cold here. Yesterday, as I was driving to Philly, a few snow flakes twirled in the air and melted on my windshield. I seriously contemplated moving back.

I consulted Lora; “Ida, you can’t keep re-locating. It’s not a long term solution”

I don’t do long term. I can’t. I get tired. I need a change. My first “official” boyfriend lasted a week.

In Philly, I met up with “I”, one of my brother’s friends. He inquired as to my “life”. He said I am tense. Fidgety. All over the damn place.

We chated about boys and girls. We always chat about boys and girls. He said I was the “pickiest person he’s ever known”. Gosh, such honor.

We talked about coasts: East and West, being on the go, living out of a suit case. I love it. When I grow up, I want to be a vagabond; I’d play the garmoshka and hopscotch through the SIX Continents.

I’m getting old. I’ll be twenty-one and a half in 2 weeks. In 6 months and 2 weeks I’ll be twenty-two. And then, in 88.5 years and 2 weeks, my existence will amount to a mere glimpse of evolutionary history.

In two and a half days (when I turn 21, 5 months, and 18.5 days), I’ll be back in DC to give it another go…

Friday night and the lights are low
Looking out for the place to go…

Outta here.

Finally. I have a brief moment.
To sit. To reflect. To whine my goddamn ass of.

I am at the San Diego airport awaiting my red eye to DC for the weekend (in between work in Delaware).

I have 2 minutes to write something meaningful.

I chopped off my hair. Again. I didn’t mean to.
Hair grows. Shit happens.

(Yup. Meaningful)

Screw you, quasi gay, but misleadingly straight* hair stylist.

Boarding time! Toodles!

*Oh yes, there is a story to be told. Oi vay. Oi-fucking-vay.