I put a biore strip on my forehead and ripped out major chunks of my eyebrows.

I cut my hair short. Actually, a highly trained professional cut my hair short, and then, I cut it shorter.

There has been this strange phenomena of water falling from the sky, and air that seems to be blowing from some unseen source. Somehow, it all seems familiar, but I just can’t put my finger on it.

And now….on to more important things….

first bike: blue. banana seat. streamer / tassels on the ends of the handle bars. Coming home from school, I would pretend that some evil superpower was chasing me. I got up to top speed driving around a curve that led to a hill. At the last minute before I was “caught” I would turn left up the hill zigging and zagging through the trees in the yard and furiously pedal to the front door and jump off of my bike while it was still moving. It would crash into a heap that I would leave for my mom to tell me to pick up later in the night.

first best friend(s): a green security blanket named greeny.

first real memory of something: Being wheeled through the mall in a stroller. Attacking my babysitter with a butter knife.

first car: 86 grey Honda Accord. Second car….9? red Honda Civic. Third car….9? black Pontiac Sunfire, obtained by default…..or should I say repo-ed by me from a dead beat ex boyfriend who I cosigned on a loan for. Fourth car….9? Subaru Outback bought from my mom for what the dealership was going to pay for it.
These last two cars I have a deep burning hate for in my heart. The Sunfire is obvious, the Subaru….I just hated. I felt like I was talked into it. I felt like my mom dumped it on me because she didn’t want to deal with it. Current car is a 99 Dodge Dakota pick up truck that I love. It is the first car I picked because I liked it and wanted it.

first date: In ninth grade I went to a “Christian” concert with a guy named Bill. I didn’t really feel comfortable going with him by myself, so I asked if I could bring a friend. He said he just wanted it to be us. He then showed up at my house with a friend. Not only that, but he was dressed entirely in a parachute outfit…I think maybe he had one glove on too.
Okay, yes, I had parachute pants, and yes, I had a double long studded belt that I wore at a jaunty angle on my hips….but an entire parachute outfit? I remember walking out of my front door and seeing him and wanting to turn back around and go inside. One of the highlights of the night was him driving really fast down the highway trying to see how close he could get the car to the construction cones.

first kiss: Andrew Blair in fourth grade. I pulled him behind the bookshelf and said , “Hey, lets stop playing around here, what are we, children? You like me. I like you. Enough said. Let’s get it on my little love muffin.”

first job: Clerk and food prep at Everything’s Yogurt at the mall. Everyone stole money from that place. I tried to hold out and be a decent person, but I cracked and justified petty theft when they wouldn’t give me a ten cent raise. We had a calculator beside the register, and for a portion of the orders we took, we added on the calculator, and gave change out of the community stack. Then at the end of the night, we split the profit between us. I should probably feel bad about that, but I don’t.

first screen name: brainchild

first pet: Edward the siamese cat. I have a picture of me having just come home from the hospital after being born. I was a premie 2 lbs. 6 oz. I’m lying on the bed next to Edward. I look like a little baby kitten.

first piercing/tattoo: ears, sixth grade.

first love: Jim Jolly, a life guard at Olympic pool. I think I was six or seven. I would follow him around everywhere. When he was on duty, I would sit at his feet and hang on his every word. He told me all kinds of outrageous stories about himself, one being that he was bionic. I think I asked him where a scar on his leg came from. I believed him. A girl lifeguard told me that he wasn’t bionic and he was making it up. I felt incredibly stupid and betrayed. After I found out, I swam away from the deep end that he was guarding and into the shallow end and did handstands under water until my mom came to pick me up.

first enemy: besides myself….the girls in sixth grade that made my existence in junior high unbearable.

first play/musical/performance: The Thanksgiving play in kindergarten. I was an Indian girl. My line was, “and we brought smoked fish for the feast too”. The teacher was on the side of the stage telling all of the kids their lines. I remember feeling annoyed when it came time for my line and she stage whispered it to me. I felt like yelling at her, “I know it already. You didn’t have to tell it to me.”

first musician you remember hearing in your house: Laying on the living room carpet with my cheek to the floor. I had on big, green headphones. I was listening to some disco song, “You can ring my be-el-ell, ring my bell (ding ding dong…..ding ding ding ding dong).”

last good cry: maybe in about five minutes

last cuss word uttered: I can’t remember, but I think I say “fuck” more than I should.

last crush: Andrew Blair

last item bought: grande soy latte from Starbucks, and groceries from Albertsons.

last time amused: …..highly amused….. (to see it, make sure that the scroll bar is all the way to the top on the right side…..I just can’t seem to make it open in a new window.

last time scolded: ten minutes ago when I was trying to park. Mr. X was in the passenger seat and he was all,”OH MY GOD CINDIGO, DON’T HIT THE CAR. CAREFUL. OH GOD, THE POLE, YOUR GOING TO SCRAPE THE TRUCK. MY GOD WOMAN, WHERE DID YOU LEARN HOW TO DRIVE.” Then, I was all, “Shutup, you, you…mean person you”. Then he was all, “Mean person….you didn’t just call me that.” Then he jumped out of the truck and grabbed the 50 pound bag of Iams dog chow and threw it at my head. So then, I was all mad and stuff, so I threw the truck in reverse and I ran over his big toe. Then I ran up here and locked the door to finish this journal entry. I’ve got a few minutes because he probably can’t make it up the stairs that fast with his toe all smashed up.

last time dancing: X and I had a swing dance lesson on Saturday.

last show attended: X and I went to see Aimee Mann and Duncan Sheik at Paris. It was under the Paris Casino’s replica of the Eiffel Tower next to the swimming pool. We sat at the edge of the pool with our feet dangling in. It was nice. Duncan played a “make out” song. He said, “this is a make out song, so I expect to see some making out”. Under the lights of Vegas and the fake Eiffle Tower, with our feet in the pool…..we did.

It is raining here. Torrents of rain that I have not seen here before. Winds are blowing plants off of balconies, random objects through parking lots and gutters and wood finish off of the sides of buildings. There are emergency vehicle sirens going off frequently. Murphy the dog is freaking out. I tried to calm her down with sweet potato skins, her blankey, dog bones and her cloth frisbee. Murphy will not be calmed. She keeps getting into the bathtub. Never before have I seen her climb willingly into a bathtub. I’m really hoping that her doggie senses aren’t picking something up that I’m not aware of. I just put her blankey in the bathtub with her….it the best I could do.

My parents are still here. My mother is loosing tons of money and enjoying every minute. X offered to teach her how to count cards playing blackjack or how to play video poker but she wasn’t interested. She’s a manic slot machine junkie.

I told my parents I had to work today, which in actuality I did, but I called in sick. Bad daughter, I know. After breakfast, I walked them down the street to another casino. On the way there, my step dad ran off the side walk in his motorized card and got stuck in some gravel. Two burly construction guys were walking by and picked him and the scooter up and put him back on the sidewalk. When we got to the Sahara casino, I pointed mom in the direction of the slot machines and ran back to my truck and sped away with my sanity hanging by a thread.

*Note to self: Always take Mr. X to anything involving family so you do not feel like an incompetent, ugly, geeky, gangly twelve year old with no self esteem.*

My mom was convinced that the casino she was staying at had “bad” slot machines and wanted to try another place. Her theory was confirmed by a “man” who had lost “a lot” of money that morning playing slot machines. I tried to explain that slot machines in general are just “bad”, but she would have none of it. She showed me her “lucky” magnetic bracelet and went on to a different subject.

It’s almost two am. I knew I shouldn’t have had that extra shot of espresso. But I’ve never been one to turn down an extra shot of espresso, even when I’m offering it to myself.

Did I mention that San Diego is great. I did (Cindigo cannot find the question mark in the darkness of two am, so please read: I did…question mark.) Well I’ll just say it one more time for emphasis….San Diego is great (exclamation point).

I had some funny stories, and deep descriptive descriptions to lay down…but now….I just don’t feel like it.

My parents are in town until Friday. We set them up at the Hilton with an upgraded room and a motorized cart for my step dad. It has a dial that can be set to “rabbit” or “turtle”. When I picked up the cart from the bell desk, I set it to “rabbit” and almost flipped it on the waxed tile entryway. X took it for a spin down the hallway of the twenty sixth floor and tried to flip it on purpose and got disapproving clicks of the tongue from my mother when he ran into the couch a few times.

The Hilton has a Star Trek theme throughout the casino, green lasers shooting over your head, Quark’s bar complete with Ferenges, the “Star Trek Experience” ride, and a replica of the Enterprise’s warp core. The warp core, for those of you who aren’t into Star Trek, is a huge clear tube filled with “electricity” and on the “real” Enterprise would be highly radioactive. The “warp core” has a metal railing around it and a sloping, circular ramp so you can walk around it admiringly as you pass to the next room.

As we approach it, my mom, who has no knowledge of Star Trek, asks me what this thing is. As I’m explaining it to her, my step dad comes flying from behind us on the scooter at “rabbit” speed. He’s heading straight for the warp core. He’s trying to stop the scooter by digging his heels into the ground, but still holding onto to the handle that makes it accelerate. I can feel all three of us holding our collective breaths in the split seconds that he is careening towards the plasma conductors and certain injury.

He stops less than a foot away. We exhale, and then laugh so hard we almost cry. I don’t know if the story translates, but I know that the vision of my step dad exploding out of nowhere heading straight for a perfect replica of the Enterprises warp core on a scooter seeming to be going sixty miles an hour, will be forever emblazoned in my memory.

Then we went to Quarks:

Mom: seriously states, “I’m going to have a ham-borg-er.”
X and I crack up a little because she sounds, determined, convicted and has no idea what a “borg” is.
Mom: “What? That’s what it says, ham-borg-er.”
X and I try to explain the borg and how everything on the menu is named after some Star Trek thing. She doesn’t see the humor. Then we order some isolinear chips and dip, a star fleet chopped salad, a drink called a phaser or photon something and a pizza that was in the shape of the star fleet triangle insignia.

I just can’t imagine what the next three days will bring.

I am in San Diego until Friday.

San Diego=good. Las Vegas=bad.

to recap….

San Diego=good. Las Vegas=bad.

We went to the beach, drank coffee, drove around, ate gellato, looked at houses, ate fish tacos.

that is all to report from cindigodotcom.

Krysti,

I am driving to San Diego on Tuesday.

That is all,
Cindigodotcom

I have braids.

I look silly.

Oh well.

I spent the entirety of the eighties looking silly and it didn’t seem to bother me then.

X, I and X’s friend Vlad from Colorado just got back from the Stardust to place tomorrow’s bets. While there, he said, “don’t take this the wrong way, but when you were walking over there, at a certain angle….you kinda looked like Predator.” Then I laughed, because, it’s true. I have way, way….way too much hair on my head.

If you haven’t seen the movie Predator, it’s about this creature with a cloaking device that kills everything. It has a crazy protrusion coming out of the back of it’s head. I’m hoping that X was referring to my braids in a ponytail that could be construed as the bony carapace of a monster, and not the fact that I can turn invisible and kill innocent people…..which I can…..I just don’t want to be called out on it.

Vlad and X are running amok on the strip right now. I wasn’t really up to any sort of running, amok or otherwise, so they took me (and my hair) home. And now, my hair and I are going to watch a dvd and go to bed.

I am writing a journal entry. See me write. Writing is important. It’s important for the mind and the soul.

See me write about the sea foam green carpet. The constant, ever present hum of the air conditioner. The browning plants out on the balcony. The big plastic tub with handfuls of dirt at the bottom. I thew it there after Toonces the black cat of destruction knocked one of the planter boxes off of their temporary home on the kitchen counter. The pathos were moved from what was supposed to be their permanent home on the balcony. They lived out there for one day. The little guys couldn’t take the sun trying to burn holes in their leaves. I heard their screams and moved them in. Yeah, I know, I’m sensitive like that.

I am waiting to go to a hair appointment that was moved from ten am to eleven thirty am, by the therapists (did I say therapist…..stylists) request. Her workplace said she was running late. In my book that means, she has a massive hangover and couldn’t get motivated this morning. Cindigodotcom is getting (red, black and blond) black girl braids. I compromised with myself. I wanted dreads, but I wasn’t sure, so braids seemed the way to go. I tried to put one dread in my hair and it was sticky, fuzzy and yucky. Not to mention that back combing is a very alarming procedure. Also, I figured that I already have a black girl butt, so I might as well let the soul sista’ in me shine.

See me write like the wind.

I’ve been crying. No, no, not alot, don’t be alarmed…but a few tears have come out of my eyes in the past few weeks. Only a few times, in the car, in public restrooms, in bed in the middle of the night, in bed in the middle of the day listening to This American Life archives, and at work. See, not that much.

The Vegas experiment is a little stressful right now. I think it’s this damn sea foam green carpet. If only it were tan, or a darker shade of green even.

Is it the heat? The lack of sincerity and general flakiness of the people here? The wagering of tens of thousand of dollars a day? The apartment in a continual low grade state of disarray? The general lack of self acceptance and the inability right now to settle down and be nice to myself? The absence of a steady diet of nutritional and fresh food due to my laziness?

So many things to choose from. I’ll just blame it on PMS. Girls can do that. I’ll blame it on PMS and eat some breakfast before my eight hour hair appointment.