I’m trying to think of some good stories. My brain, my brain she is a burning. Tonight we went to see a movie. Walking out of the Palms Casino movie theater feeling the wind on my face reminded me of this time last year. We had just moved to Vegas and were living in the Budget Suites behind the Stardust. The very same place that the Ohio sniper lived in during his stay here. I remember walking through the parking lot, and jumping the dividing wall to the Stardust. As I looked at all of the neon flashing signs and listened to the traffic I thought, “I can’t belive I’m living here”.

It is almost a year later, and I’m saying the same thing. Although with not such excitement and newness in my voice.

Last year it took the sports books almost a whole season to know X’s name and start writing cryptic things on paper when we bet. This year it took about nine days. I am divided on my feelings. On one hand speaking to my egotistical nature and love for attention, it feels very cool. When we walk through the doors I can almost hear the Kill Bill (vol 2) soundtrack and feel Beatrix Kideaux’s Hattori Hanzo sword strapped to my back as my every step sinks up with the beat of the music. On the more realistic side, the less attention, the better. Did anyone ever think that those words would be coming out of my mouth? It goes against my guiding principal of life….ANY attention is good attention.

————–

and that was written last night while we had won our biggest bet and had a positive, but not record day. This morning now that the simulations for 2002 are complete, our mood is not so springy. The data is saying the exact opposite of what the 2003 data is saying. I feel like someone who picks the wrong answer on Who Wants to be a Millionaire. They say, “Yes, Regis, final answer!” with such confidence and wide eyed optimism. Then, Regis purses his lips and sucks in his breath, and that contestant’s smile begins to falter as they realize the truth of the situation. Mostly I feel bad for X. He is working and has worked so hard. I can’t do anything to help except make food do the laundry and perform sexual favors. Although, those sexual favors are pretty worthwhile if I don’t say so myself.

We’re not defeated, just set back a little. We counted a few chickens when they were still embyros. I had all the charities in mind I wanted to donate money too and was seriously fantasizing about hiring a personal chef. Another fantasy I had was paying someone $10,000.00 to take care of Murphy the dog until her dying days. I figured no one was going to take that mess of a dog for less than that. Also, some new clothes a few massages and a personal trainer may have entered my mind.

Although there is a glimmer of hope that it just might be a small error. X is re running 2002 with some adjustments. We will know in two days.

Meanwhile, for today….Go Yankees.

Just to clarify…I really don’t want to live on Mullholland drive and have famous friends. Well, maybe some famous friends, but not A list famous friends, like B+, even C+ friends. People who are inspiring, funny, smart and driven….but not driven hard enough to give up their soul to be on the A list. Personally, if I had to classify my A list rating….I might be a B-, possibly a C+ before breakfast.

Whatever….sometimes I just talk to hear myself, or, type just to relieve some pressure on my brain.

Three quarters of my existance are now censored for the greater good.

I don’t know what to talk about. Any suggestions?

I like to answer questions….any questions?

It’s 2:42 am. I’m flopping around in this bed like a goldfish out of water. I feel like I might never sleep again.

Things I’m thinking while I’m trying not to think anything and go to sleep:

1. I like the concept of people rather than actual people.

2. I didn’t call THE MAN back. I agreed to try to work on one graphic for him, and then he barraged me with a whole collections worth of needed graphics and different jacket styles. During the conversation I reminded him several times that I was just going to work on this one thing, and I wasn’t even sure if I was going to come up with anything or not. My comments were brushed aside with praise, thanks and more wants and needs. I have not returned two emails and a phone call.

3. My stomach hurts.

4. If we make a million dollars this baseball season I want to buy a house on Mullholland Drive and be friends with Quentin Terrantino and Uma Thurman. The theoretical projections say that this is possible (the million dollar part, not the house and the famous friends) but it remains to be seen since we are operating on a negative at the moment. Also, if this does happen, I will not talk about it because you might jump me at the Stardust sports book because you think I have ten thousand dollars in my pocket.

5. We are out of dish washing detergent.

3:09 am………………

We have a day and a time. 4:00 Saturday May 29th.

We just went to the Little Chapel of the West and reserved our spot.

We get two songs. We decided that the after the “I dos”, on the White Stripes,

Artist Lyrics: The White Stripes
Song Lyrics: We’re Going To Be Friends
Album Lyrics:

fall is here hear the yell
back to school ring the bell
brand new shoes walking blues
climb the fence books and pens
i can tell that we are gonna be friends
i can tell that we are gonna be friends

walk with me suzy lee
through the park and by the tree
we will rest upon the ground and
look at all the bugs we’ve found
then safely walk to school without a sound
safely walk to school without a sound

well here we are no one else
we walk to school all by ourselves
there’s dirt on our uniforms from
chasing all the ants and worms
we clean up and now its time to learn
we clean up and now its time to learn

numbers letters learn to spell
nouns and books and show and tell
at playtime we will throw the ball
back to class through the hall
teacher marks our height against the wall
teacher marks our height against the wall

we dont notice any time pass
we dont notice any thing
we sit side by side in every class
teacher thinks that i sound funny
but she likes the way the way you sing

tonight ill dream while im in bed
when silly thoughts go through my head
about the bugs and alphabet
and when i wake tomorrow i’ll bet
that you and i will walk together again
cause i can tell that we are gonna be friends
yes i can tell that we are gonna be friends

We’re trying to come up with something other than the traditional wedding march. Mr. X has suggested Billy Idol’s White wedding with me walking down the isle with a pillow stuffed under my dress, the theme from Ms. America, and the lucky contestant music from The Price is Right.

Any suggestions?

My last google search:

How to straighten a dislocated toe?

peeps….

I’m walking for AIDS. I have a low, low goal, so I won’t feel bad about myself because I don’t know anyone with money to donate. If you have the cash (.50, $1, $5, $10….), spread the love. It’s a good cause in general, and doubly good, because it will make me leave the saftey of my domicile.

We’re on the Penn and Teller team, so we get to walk with them.

click here if you want Cindigo to save face in front of Penn and Teller

It finally happened. My ebay rating is no longer 100%. My good name is sullied and I am saddened. I left someone bad feedback and, out of spite, they left some for me IN ALL CAPS. Unless there is a misunderstanding, and how can this “misunderstanding” be understood if we can’t communicate. PEOPLE, PEOPLE…CAN’T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?

I’ve sent four emails and was very nice….you know me….I’m nice, polite, some say charming even. They are saying that I cashed the check and never sent them the merchandise. Obviously, they do not know to what extent I base my self esteem on my ebay feedback. Like I would put the core of my being, the rock of my Gibraltar, the anchor of my ship, the apple of my eye in jeopardy for a measly sixteen bucks.

Yes people, I have a price, but, sixteen dollars, it isn’t.

p.s. from the entry below

I think we are getting married here.

Also, I don’t think that mashed up cauliflower would taste like mashed potatoes.

Despite what I think, I should not believe everything I read on mother internet.

I’m laying in my avocado green bedroom. I thought avocado would give a Zen, clean, simple vibe. I was mistaken. It gives off more of a puke green, institutional vibe. The primer has been bought, and the new colors picked. Unfortunately, the motivation to do the physical labor is not gauging high on the voltammeter.

I forgot that tonight is Friday night. One of the very few things that I miss about having a normally scheduled life is that great feeling that you get after putting in a torturous, grueling work week. I remember the clock hitting five, and I feeling positively drunk with possibilities. (That last paragraph probably isn’t getting me any gold stars from the people who actually still do have to put in torturous, grueling work weeks.)

Vlad the Russian from Colorado is here visiting. Mr. X and Vlad the Russian are downstairs computing and discussing important matters of which I know nothing.

Me? I’m still cooking things. I think I feel okay, but I’m never completely sure. I think that there may be some hidden, lurking anxieties and fears. I know this because I well up with tears every time I hear an On-Star commercial on the radio (the emergency service one gets me every time.). But then again, maybe the commercial is designed that way and I’m just a very sensitive, caring individual.

Mr. X just called up from downstairs, “Are you listening to On-Star commercials on the internet up there?”

Maybe it’s the upcoming wedding, or the planning, or that Las Vegas is a wasteland of a place devoid of culture and substance, or that I have to make new friends, and I can’t eat at restaurants anymore, and Mr. X is stressed out because baseball season is three days away and he’s programming all the time, and I want to put our two cats and a dog in a giant burlap sack and throw them off of an overpass and, did I mention, our bedroom is avocado green?

Or, maybe it’s just me.