no excess fat in these feet

On Sunday I ventured out solo to see limpwrist at Gilman. I noticed, in my aimless wandering between sets, that my feet seem to be a lot smaller inside my nikes - and this is the only noticeable difference in my body since starting to go to the gym three months ago. In a way I find it rewarding that I've finally noticed a physical difference besides having these unusual bouts of pure relentless energy that hit at about 8-9 o'clock most nights. But in another way, what the fuck?

After limpwrist played a rousing encore with I Love Hardcore Boys, I finally spotted Greg in the crowd trying to make his way outside. I congratulated his move out here and wholeheartedly welcomed him to the Bay Area but on the way home I thought about how weird that felt for me to say. The Bay Area really didn't feel like mine to give, though I obviously welcomed his presence in my life. Sappy, but I suppose it sums up my experience here and unfortunate that I really only have myself to blame though honestly, unemployment and living at my mom's house seems really pretty sweet.

I just heard Chris say over the phone "Oh hey dude, sorry for getting pasta sauce all over your cd." and then later on he said "Dude, save me a tab."
You know what I'm talking about.

Side notes of a boring life:

I'm so glad that John Henson is back on tv, although Wipeout is not the most ideal place to show off his talents as much as Talk Soup was. I'm also glad that Deanna picked Jesse as the man to marry on the Bachelorette. Though I scoff at the idea of marriage and separately, true love found on a tv show, they really seemed into each other on Bachelorette: After the Rose, didn't they? Like they were really making eyes at each other and kissing like crazy - these people sure had me convinced. And I just want to say, I knew there was no way she was gonna turn down a man that snowboarded with ease while she was riding him piggy back. Dude had it in the bag.

In rather upsetting news, I'm pretty sure that my Whole Foods crush who looks like Jonathan Franzen is gay. I was checking out while checking him out and simultaneously shoving a sample chocolate chip cookie into my mouth while trying to say "Token, I'll take the token." to the clerk. And I don't want to jump to conclusions about someone's sexual orientation here (which I am fully aware that I am doing) but when he did a quick turnaround to answer a co-worker, it was a little too swivel-y, you know? Like hands on the hip, other arm swinging round, head cocked in that "What's up bee-otch?" kind of way. And I could swear that his name tag said "Miley" - which of course might be the major indicator here but this truly warrants further investigation that should not at all be labeled stalking. I shop there every week! I need my dried figs, my occasional kombucha and my organic kitty grass! (I am not a senior citizen)

Kiss kiss and goodnight sweet internet!