Thursday, November 02, 2006
Location: At work
State of Mind: Bored
I just want to post a pic of my puppy and introduce him to the world. Everyone, meet 4-Deuce or Doozy. He's turning 2 this November. I rescued him from the pound on 9/28/06. This pic is before he got his haircut. I'll post another one of him when I get a chance.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
This is simple. Just:
1. Emphasize all lines that apply to you.
2. Tag five more people after you finish, complete with links to their sites.
3. Let the person you've tagged KNOW that they've been tagged, for Pete's sake.
I wish I was a different ethnicity.
I have an eating disorder.
I'm short. (I think so.)
I think I'm really attractive.
I prefer winter over summer.
I'm a geek.
I'm a shopaholic.
I'm reasonably intelligent.
I'm attracted to girls.
I'm attracted to men.
I like British accents. (Although sometimes, I have a hard time understanding them.)
I smoke regularly.
I drink regularly.
I smoke socially.
I drink socially.
I get drunk easily.
I do drugs.
I will never date a bad kisser.
I've lied to avoid kissing them again.
I brush my hair at least 50 times a night.
I'm happy with my Faith.
I'm not religious but have morals.
I lie frequently.
I liked "Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind".
"She's All That" is one of my favorite movies.
I'm good at History.
I speak more than two languages.
I enjoy taking pictures. (But I have a tendency to always forget my camera.)
I like spending money on myself.
I like spending money on others.
I have a regular income.
I earned money on a job-by-job basis.
I pay my own bills.
I rely on my parents for money.
I can cook.
I enjoy cleaning.
Tidiness is a must in my life.
I like clutter.
My idea of good music is Britney Spears.
I have heard of Blonde Redhead.
I enjoy Blonde Redhead.
I have good taste.
People tell me I have good taste.
I excel academically.
I'm told I have yet to fulfill my potential.
I'm good at sports.
I'm good at certain sports.
I couldn't do sports to save my life.
I'm artistically inclined.
I wanna be an artist when I grow up.
I wanna be an engineer when I grow up.
I eat when I'm upset.
I cannot adapt to change.
I'm interested in politics.
I have shoplifted.
I download MP3s.
I've done underage drinking.
I've gone underage clubbing.
I can dance.
I can dance extremely well.
I dance like a cardboard gorilla.
I can sing.
I sing like someone stepped on my foot.
I can swim.
I enjoy surveys.
I enjoy surveys when I'm bored.
I keep a journal.
My teachers don't like me.
I enjoy controversy.
I can be a bitch/bastard.
I have a thing for bad boys/girls.
I have tattoos.
I've been in a nudist colony.
I'm not sure if I want to have children.
I'm not sure if I'll get married.
I know who I will marry. (But that doesn’t mean they want to marry me, LOL.)
I'm interesting. (To say the least.)
I'm a good liar.
People enjoy talking to me.
I annoy people from time to time.
I'm a born leader.
I'm a born leader but shouldn't lead.
I enjoy felching.
I have a foot fetish.
I have a shoe fetish. (I enjoy shopping for shoes but I don't have a shoe fetish.)
I watch "Sex and the City".
I don't think Sarah Jessica Parker is pretty.
I wanna be J.Lo.
I cut myself.
I've cut myself.
I hate people who pretend to be suicidal.
I hate popular people.
I think cheerleading is a sport.
I live in Chucks.
I think graffiti is art.
I have dated a criminal.
I have been cheated on.
I have cheated on someone.
I have a temper.
I like playgrounds.
I dance in the rain.
I'm obsessed with Shakespeare.
I have tanlines.
My favourite color is pink.
My favourite color is black.
I would classify myself as emo.
I'm musically inclined.
I like listening to music.
I like music-blasting cars.
Thongs are comfortable.
I like flip-flops.
I know what monogamy is... and I believe in it.
I wanna be a social worker when I grow up.
I have sibling/s.
My sibling/s annoy me.
I think "South Park" is funny.
I believe in LOVE.
Thanks a lot Inez.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Is the contractor not on the same page?
And why is Steve so afraid of showing his age?
These are more things in the CWP pace.
Oh yeah, I know where Nate’s at
He’s at myspace.
i think about
why is it that
when Ramin is late
he doesn’t get reprimanded
same also with Nate
why is it that
Sassan has no balls
He never talks back to Steve
I don’t get it at all
why is that
Naghdi is so messy
He always leaves his clutter around
Oh, what a doozy!
And why, oh why
haven’t I gotten my raise
Neither has Aidin,
Oh, what a disgrace!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
what happened to nate
why is ramin always late
and will we ever actually build
these are some things
like how many times a day
does sassan pee
what is it with half empty containers
and why does steve NEVER have a bathroom key
is it just me
or is navid’s political views kind of creepy
what more can i say!
is it pay-day
will we ever get a raise
ugh! is this really my fate
and really though, where the hell is Nate!
Monday, August 28, 2006
I'll be posting pictures of my New York trip soon, so watch out for that. I haven't had the time (or the motivation) to get to it. I'm a procrastinator, I always have been. I'm not proud of it, I just acknowledge it. I don't even know why I do it. Sooner or later I still get around to doing it (whatever it is I that I decided to do later rather than now) so I don't know why I even bother to procrastinate. It certainly serves no purpose. Who knows?
Anyway, I'll be starting school again tomorrow. Yes, big surprise. I got my degree in Economics from USC in 2003 and I'm back in school to punish myself with some more schoolwork and some more procrastination. Well, at least it's something to pull me away from the couch. To all of you who don't know me, I'm also a couch potato. A procrastinator and a couch potato...hah! It's a damn miracle I'm not fat but don't let me get into that. I have a slight obsession with my weight. Don't worry, I'm not anorexic or bulimic but I am very diligent about watching my weight. I haven't had pizza in about a year, and boy do I miss it! Almost as much as I miss the gym. I haven't been to the gym since my car accident. That's one of the reasons that I have to watch my weight, I can't do any strenuous exercise that might aggravate or impede the growth of the bone on my forearm. Almost a year, and it still hasn't grown back completely. But I won't get into that either. Talk about going off on tangents. My AP English teacher in high school told me that I write in a stream of consciousness...almost like James Joyce. Only the stream of consciousness part. Anyway...
Friday, August 11, 2006
The staples were just removed by my doctor. The wounds look so fresh. Euw. He was trying to distract me by talking to me about the beach while he picked them off. I was screaming so much...I hope I didn't scare his other patients. This pic was taken with my camera phone because I'm such a doofus that I forgot my camera at home. Imagine how this would look if it was a higher quality picture. Double euw.
This pic is of the other side of my arm. this one's even more disgusting because of the burn marks. Burn marks you ask? Apparently, I'm allergic to surgical tape. This part of my arm had the staples taken off earlier* and the stitches were held by surgical tape so it won't open. When the doctor removed the bandages, I thought the scabs were dried blood but they were actually burnt skin. Say it with me...EUW!
*I had two separate surgeries for my arm. After the first surgery (where they installed the metal plates), my arm was so swollen that they couldn't close it off. I went back a week after to first surgery to have my arm closed up and for a bone graft (there was a gap in my bone since it apparently shattered and some pieces were too tiny to be put back together). Before I had my second surgery, the doctor removed the staples. Since the wound was pretty fresh, he taped up my arm with surgical tape so the wound won't reopen.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Sunday, July 23, 2006
|You Should Be a Joke Writer|
You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation.
Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life...
You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material.
You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
(Click here to post your own answers for this meme.)
Thursday, July 20, 2006
1. LIVING ARRANGEMENT?
One bedroom second-floor apartment
2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
Visitor’s Guide to New York City
3. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
My mouse. =)
4. FAVORITE BOARD GAME?
Monopoly, introduces kids to the basics of capitalism. I’m not sure if that’s necessarily a good thing.
5. FAVORITE MAGAZINE?In Style and Lucky
6a. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Smells in general – coffee & food cooking on the stove or oven or grill. Perfrumes – Marc Jacobs & Issey Miyake
6b. LEAST FAVORITE SMELLS?
Rotten eggs, garbage, anything rotten
7. FAVORITE SOUND?
8. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD?Being cheated (in more than one context) -> makes me feel stupid
9. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING?
“what time is it?”
10. FAVORITE COLOR?
Lilac or lavender
11. HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE?
Depends who is calling. Sometimes I don't answer it at all. Caller id rocks.
12. FUTURE Child's NAME?
Girl: Cassidy Nicole or Lorelai Cassidy
Boy: Alexander Nicolo or Marcus Alexander
13. WHAT IS MOST IMPORTANT IN LIFE?
Family & friends
14. FAVORITE FOODS?
Japanese Food (not just sushi) and Spanish Tapas and good, bloody steak
15. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA?If these were the only two choices, then chocolate, I guess.
16. DO YOU LIKE TO DRIVE FAST?
Yes, but ever since my accident (that broke, nay shattered both bones in my left forearm) I’ve been driving really carefully (which means slower than I used to).
17. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL?
No, they make me sneeze.
18. STORMS - COOL OR SCARY?
19. WHAT TYPE WAS YOUR FIRST CAR?
1997 Toyota Corolla
20. MEET ONE PERSON DEAD OR ALIVE?
Angelina Jolie – she’s hot.
21. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK?
Mango margarita and mango mojito
22. WHAT IS YOUR ZODIAC SIGN?
Scorpio baby, yeah.
23. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI?
24. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WANTED WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Buyer for a cool boutique that I also own.
25. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOR WHAT WOULD IT BE?
same color I always dye it…mahogany
26. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE?
27. IS THE GLASS HALF EMPTY OR HALF FULL?
depends on the situation
28. FAVORITE MOVIES: The King and I, Braveheart, Dumb & Dumber, My Cousin Vinny
29. DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS? Nope
30. WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED?
Stor-it-all with a bunch of papers
31. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 12
32. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH? Trojan football. Go Trojans!
Four jobs you have had in your life:
3. financial analyst
4. real estate office manager
Four movies you could watch over and over:
1. The King and I
2. My Cousin Vinny
3. Love Actually
4. Jerry Maguire
Four places you have lived: (most recent)
1. palms/cheviot hills area
2. west hollywood
Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. amazing race
2 top model
3. project runway
4. grey’s anatomy
Four places you have been on vacation:
2. las vegas
3. boracay, philippines
4. Cagayan de oro, philippines
Four websites I visit daily:
3. Perfect Pet Rescue
Four of my favorite foods:
Four places I would rather be right now:
2. Italy Tuscany region
3. South Africa
Four things I always carry with me:
1. cell phone
4. debit card
I guess the above questionnaire doesn't really tell people much about me except what I like and don't like. Getting to know someone is an adventure that takes time and patience. It is not something that can be summarized with a few questions.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Yes, what Zidane did was just as bad. He is after all the captain and he should have acted like one (but then again one can argue that George W. Bush is President of the US and he surely doesn't act like it either). We will never truly know what Materazzi told him to provoke such behavior but if the rumors are true, then Italy should give up the Cup. Materazzi should just stop making excuses. He should stop playing like the victim (saying he's not cultured enough to know what an "Islamic terrorist" is, when that clearly has nothing to do with culture). He should just 'fess up that he cheated and now he's lying about it. But he never will. His reputation is at stake and he has to lie to defend his honor, his reputation, his World Cup victory.
For more on the history of Materazzi and racism in the World Cup, please refer to and article written by Dave Zirin (as it appeared on Znet.com):
Why Today I Wear My Zidane Jersey
Imagine Michael Jordan in his last game, with the score tied in overtime, knocking out his defender with a punch to the throat. Imagine Derek Jeter in game seven of the World Series, at bat with the bases loaded, thrashing the opposing team's catcher over the head with his bat. Our collective shock would only be exceeded by disappointment. No one, fan or foe, would want to a see a great player end their career in an act that speaks to the worst impulses of sports: when hard competition spills over into violence.
Now imagine if Jordan and Jeter claimed they were provoked with a racial slur. Does their violence become understandable? Even excusable? Herein lies the case of French National team captain, the great Zinedine Zidane.
Zidane, competing in his last professional match, was kicked out of the World Cup final in overtime for flattening Italian player Marco Materazzi with the head-butt heard around the world.
Zidane, or Zissou as he is known, became the first captain ever ejected from a World Cup championship match. The announcers denounced Zissou for committing a "classless act and the French team withered, eventually losing to a demonstrably inferior Italian squad in overtime. The following morning the international tabloids with their typical grace, gave Zissou a new nickname: "butt-head."
Less examined was the fact that Zissou was literally carrying a lightly regarded French team to the finals. Less examined was the fact that Zissou had been grabbed, kicked, and fouled all game by the vaunted Italian defense. Less examined was the fact that Zissou had almost left minutes earlier due to injury, his arm wilting off his shoulder like a wet leaf of spinach. This unholy amount of pressure is the primary reason the 34-year-old veteran snapped and planted Materazzi into the pitch.
Now the great mystery is what set Zissou off. What could Materazzi have possibly said to send him over the edge? Answers are beginning to filter out.
According to a FIFA employee transcribing what was said during the match, Materazzi's called Zissou a "big Algerian shit."
A Brazilian television program that claims to have used a lip-reader said Materazzi called Zissou's sister "a whore." The highly respected French anti-racist coalition SOS Racisme issued a press release stating, "According to several very well informed sources from the world of football, it would seem [Materazzi] called Zissou a 'dirty terrorist'."
Materazzi, in an answer that can only be called Clintonian, said, "It is absolutely not true. I didn't call him a terrorist." Of course he didn't comment on what he did call him. Zissou himself has only said cryptically that he would reveal what Materazzi said "in the coming days."
Right now, we do not know beyond a shadow of a doubt what was said but all the circumstantial evidence points at least toward a variant of SOS Racisme's claim.
Zissou is the son of Algerian immigrants who has sparred verbally with
Materazzi on the other hand, will be playing this year for the Italian team Lazio, where his father was the former coach. Lazio's fan club, The Ultras, are notorious for their Fascist-friendly politics. Lazio's hardcore Ultras, known as the "Irriducibili," have members in
It's wrong to taint Materazzi for the actions of Lazio's fans, but there is more. Earlier this season in a match that pitted
In a stirring act of solidarity, many of the Inter players immediately showed support for Zoro's actions. But one opponent yelled, "Stop that, Zoro, you're just trying to make a name for yourself." That opponent's name was Marco Materazzi.
At the start of this tournament I wrote a soccer column with my colleague John Cox, called Racism Stalks the Cup. We expressed our concern that the monkey chants, banana peels, and peanuts raining down on African players this year would continue on the sport's grandest stage. This largely did not occur.
But then in the final act, at the moment of most exquisite tension, it seems racism may have actually emerged from the shadows. I, for one, am damn glad that when it did, it ran smack into Zissou's beautiful head.
We don't know with iron certainty what Materazzi said, but if it turns out to be more of the anti-Black, anti-Muslim, garbage that has infected soccer like a virus, the Italian team should forfeit the cup. They should voluntarily give the greatest trophy of them all back to FIFA as a statement that some things in this world are more important than sports.
Racism will be the death of soccer if things don't change.
Give the damn thing back.
Dave Zirin is the author of "What's My name Fool?": Sports and Resistance in the
Friday, June 30, 2006
This is my a picture of my arm, 2 surgeries and eight months later. This July 2nd will mark the 8th month since the car accident that shattered both bones in my forearm. I'm quite fortunate to be alive, though not so fortunate for my 6-month old car which didn't survive. Although almost a year has passed, November 2nd still remains a very vivid memory.
I was on my way to work. I left the house at 8:12am. There was an anti-war protest in Westwood that day. I remember contemplating whether I should miss work to go to the protest with Arash. He had been convincing me to go for the past two days and I still hadn't made up my mind. I was going to decide on my way to work. Alas, fate had decided for me. Driving west on Palms Blvd. on a Wednesday morning, I was surprised that traffic was light. There were no other cars and it seemed that I had consecutive green lights since I left the house. As I was approaching Motor Ave., one of the cars turned left in front of me. I started to slow down to accommodate the car and the car behind it started to turn as well. He hesitated at first because he saw me coming and then on the last second he turned. By this time, I was already about 5 feet away from the crosswalk. Then, to my disbelief, a third car started to turn...into my car! I instinctively tried to honk but it was too late so I swerved to the left. The right side of my car crashed into the right side of his vehicle, a Ford Bronco. I felt the airbag hit my face; the wind was knocked out of me. Then...I felt the throbbing and burning sensation of my left forearm as it hang limply on my lap. I started to scream! I was hysterical but I couldn't move, my arm felt so heavy on my lap. I started panicking. People started running from the sidewalk. Two guys tried to calm me down. They turned off the engine and told me that the ambulance was on its way. I was hyperventilating. I knew I had broken my arm. I saw it starting to swell up, it was turning red. I panicked some more. Finally, I heard the distant sound of police sirens, then the fire trucks, and at long last, the ambulance. I started to calm down, help is on the way.
The firefighters got to me first. They thought I had broken my wrist. When he lifted my arm to survey the damage, he had this look on his face that told me it was way worse than what he originally thought. He asked for a splint to stabilize the arm. They started looking around for a piece of cardboard big enough to support my arm. After stabilizing my arm, the firefighters put me in the ambulance and I remembered telling him that my car was only six months old and he told me, "Your insurance will take care of it, don't worry."
We finally got to the hospital and I was immediately sent to the ER. I thought it was a bit dramatic for a broken arm. Don't they just put cement on it and call it a day? Apparently not. I was in a lot of pain so the nurse injected me with painkillers. Then the cops came to take my statement. Great timing, I had just been drugged now I'm supposed to tell them what happened. They didn't have that many questions though. They just asked a few questions and gave me some information about the location of the junkyard that had my car. Yes, my car was towed to a junkyard. Oh, they brought me my purse and cellphone too. Yippee! After the 'questioning' was over, my phone rang. It was the office. By now it's 9:30 and they're wondering where the hell I am. I told them I just had a car accident and was at the ER. What hospital? I had to ask the nurse. Brotman Medical Center. After the phone call I fell asleep. I don't know how long I was out but when I woke up I saw Arash. I almost cried at the sight of him. Finally, a familiar face. He looked so worried that the ER staff permitted him to stay by my side. He asked if I had called my mom. I haven't had the chance. The painkillers knocked me out and besides I didn't know what to say. He urged me to let her know. I called her office and they transferred me to her extension. It kept ringing and ringing. No answer. I tried again. The line was busy. I tried for the third time and finally she picked up. I remember how irritated she was. I asked her why she wasn't picking up and she said that she's really busy. She asked me why I called. Pause. I told her. I also told her not to worry because Arash was with me. She told me she would come as soon as she can.
Details start getting a little bit blurry after that. I remember yelling at the ER nurse when they tried to put a more stable splint on my arm. I remember the looks on their faces when they saw the x-ray (I wasn't allowed to look at it). I remember Sassan visiting and Steve calling. I remember having In-N-Out for lunch. I remember Arash staying by my side until my mom came (around 4pm). I remember waking up at 5am the next day to be prepped for surgery, my very first one. I remember waking up in the recovery room and panicking, trying to take off the oxygen mask and thrashing about in my bed.
I stayed in the hospital for 5 days. My mom picked me up to take me back home. It was awful. I was so weak. I was helpless and my mom had to stay with me to help me along. I went back to the doctor's office after a couple of days to have the staples removed. I asked Arash to accompany me. I was screaming in my doctor's office as Dr. Page removed the staples, one after the other, 24 total. After a couple more days, I had to go back for another surgery. My arm was so swollen during the first surgery that they couldn't close the other wound. This time they were going to do a bone graft to connect my shattered bone and try to close the wound. When I woke up from the surgery, I remember asking the Dr. Page and the nurses if I could go back to my room so I can watch the USC game. I must've sounded like a raving lunatic since the game was actually at 11am (time I was admitted) and it was now about 5pm.
It's now 8 months later. I've switched doctors since then. I'm now with Dr. Chadwick Smith and he's a pretty good doctor (judging from his resume). He removed the staples from my second surgery, 19 staples. He also removed all the bandages and left my arm exposed. It looked so horrendous, scarred and skinny. My muscled have atrophied leaving my arm looking weird and disproportionate. It also turns out that I'm allergic to surgical tape and now I have burn marks in my arm where the surgical tape touched my skin (see picture above).
I also had to endure about 4 and a half months of physical therapy. The pain has subsided. My arm is about 80% functional. My shoulder is not as stiff. Soon, I'll be driving again. The nightmares are over but the healing is still ongoing. The scars are not only skin-deep. The psychological scars and the trauma have deeply affected me. I'm still jumpy when I'm in a car. It's so ironic. I used to think I wouldn't be able to survive in Los Angeles without a car. Here I am 8 months without a car and I've survived. Thanks to my mom, my friends, and co-workers who were kind enough to help me. My gratitude also goes out to the Blue Bus and the Culver City Bus lines, my main source of transportation to and from work. But most of all, I thank God every day that he blessed me to live to see another day.
(outer side of my arm)