Today was a bad day for arms for me.

I went to the mall during lunch to try to exchange something at Forever 21. (I waited until I'm about to push past my 20's to start shopping at that store.) I've only bought a few things from there so far... a $5 tank top, an $11 black top for clubbing (almost went on Fri night), and the $13 thing I want to exchange for something else. I was thinking of getting one of those smocked tube tops that were trendy this summer. I tried on a few in size M, but they fell off my chest. I need size S. But not having a big rack to hold up the size M tops didn't bother me as much as seeing myself sleeveless from the side. It's in store mirrors, not in the tiny sliver of a mirror I have at home, that I see my arms for what they really are... BFAs.

I have Big Fat Arms. Big Fucking Arms have I.

There would be no clothing exchange today. I quickly got out of the mall, and back in front of my laptop. I immediately IMed Babe about wanting to lipo my arms (I have seriously considered it). As usual, Babe sent me comforting lines about how "They're not too big. They're just not stick thin." And as usual, that helped me feel a little better about them.

Then, after work, I went to hula. While we do our steps, the instructor goes around the room and points out things that people are doing wrong and works with them to fix their problems. Sometimes she spends quite awhile trying to help those people. Lucky for me, she doesn't put me on the spot often. She might correct me once or twice class, and it's usually in the form of a one-liner, such as "take a bigger step". This time, when she came around to inspect me, she told me to move my arms and shoulders more toward the front. She added, "Do you lift weights?" Heavy groan on the inside. Why did she have to pick today, of all days, to ask me that?? I answered, "I used to." She said, "It looks like it." I went back to how I was feeling earlier in the day.

What made her think I look like I lift weights? It had to have been my damn big arms. But I don't lift weights! And I don't think my arms even look like I lift weights. I think they just look big.

Why are they so big anyway? I think they've been that way since I was in high school. When, if ever, I work them out, I just use light resistance on the machines at the gym in an attempt to tone. I don't know what else I can do. I'm not even sure I can make my arms any smaller. And there's really no way to hide them. Combined with somewhat broad shoulders, they make me feel as if I look un-feminine. And the way they look makes me feel un-feminine at times.

Well, I'll keep on trying to do something about them. BFAs. Someday, I probably won't care about them anymore. But between now and acceptance, there will be bitchin'.

On Saturday, I went down to Stanford Shopping Center to pick up a bday gift for a friend. When I got there, a long line was forming near a center of the mall. People were waiting to meet and greet Alton Brown, the Good Eats guy, and have him sign books. A stage was set up for several cooking demonstrations.

Having not much else to do all day, I hung around and watched the Alton Brown make beef jerky out of flank steak using some heater filters and a box fan. After that demonstration was over, I shopped for a half hour and didn't find anything, came back to the stage area and bought the book, grabbed some food togo from McDonalds and stood in the now super-long line to have the book signed. I thought I'd be there for, oh, about forty minutes. I ended up standing in line for at least two hours.

I was only able to survive the two hours by doing some majorly intense people-watching. We're talking intrusive examinations of each and every person who walked by... shameless headturning and staring and up and down eye-ing. I tried not to miss a single juicy or gross detail. I made sure to note body shapes and guess ages and critique clothing and wonder about thoughts and feelings and histories and relationships of as many passers-by as I could get my eyes on. I saw more bad than good things. The Bay Area is full of funny-looking people, and I re-realize that every time I go out and make an effort to look.

If it was any other day, I probably would've gotten out of line, taken a couple pictures of Alton Brown signing other people's cookbooks and left. Having already bought the book, I figured it'd be a waste if I didn't have it signed. And having waited two hours to have it signed, it'd be a waste if I didn't get a picture of myself with the man. So, when it was finally my turn to shake the man's hand and tell him that Babe and I enjoy his show, I got the kind people in front of me to take a picture and email it to me. Here it is.

We selected a roommate this evening. Phew! I'm SO glad we ended the search before the weekend.

Our new roommate's name is Colette, and she works at Genentech (i.e. possible job hook-up). She came by after work to check out the place, and we both agreed she's the best person we've seen in the past two weeks. I'm glad we waited to meet her before we offered anyone else the room.

I'm also glad we found another female to live with us. I didn't feel like sharing my bathroom with a dude, and dealing with his shaving stuff all over the sink, his urine all over the toilet seat, "Joe funk", etc.

Any of you know where I can get this kind of Chinese watercolor painting of pandas outside of China? The gray fuzzy heads of the pandas are made by the bottom of cups. One of my friends has a really cute one of those paintings with several pandas in it. I want one! But I'm not going to China anytime soon.

For the past week, my roommate, Genie, and I been interviewing people from Craigslist for the room that is available at our apartment. Amanda's moving out. I'm sad to see her go. She's the best roommate I've ever found on Craigslist. Before I met her, I didn't know that there are a ton of Scandinavian people living in certain parts of Minnesota.

Though the stress from needing to find a cool new roommate ASAP isn't fun, it's fun meeting a variety of people that I would normally not have a chance to interact with. I enjoy show-and-tell-ing the room, and hearing people's sales pitches about themselves. All but one of people that have seen the room definitely want to move in. None of those really stand out above the others. But I'm hoping to make a decision about who moves in tomorrow.

The thing is, my roommate and I seem to like and prefer to live with totally different types of people. The people who are somewhat interesting, but who I'd rather not live with, she seems to really take too. And the people that I think would make reliable, drama-free, hassle-free, albeit a bit boring roommates, she doesn't care for at all. I mean, I'm looking for a good roommate above a new friend.

Today we had a girl and her girlfriend come by. They were intriguing. I hardly ever get to see genuine lesbians in the flesh. They're Asian, and the one that would move in has a medium-sized dog. If she moved in, I would have the opportunity to live with a lesbian as well as a dog. Sounds like a learning experience, if nothing else. But she is the one person who saw the room that wasn't sure she wanted to take it.

So, as of right now, Genie and I don't really have an agreed-upon first, second or third choice for the roommate position...

I guess I should mention... I did buy a tennis racquet a couple of weeks ago. I haven't used it yet, which means I bought it too early. I started taking guitar lessons. After two lessons, I've finally started believing that I really WILL be able to play the guitar. I WILL be able to play clear chords. And I WILL be able to rock out someday. I met the guy who's giving me lessons through someone I met through my blog. Fancy that. I never thought my blogging would have tangible benefits.

I'm still taking hula. We just started doing hand movements along with our feet and hip movements. I don't practice during the week when I'm not at class, but I should. I need to get better at the hip swaying. A shocker... I care less about becoming thinner now. Also shocking is the fact that my face has been nearly zit-free for months. My face hasn't been this clear since around 7th grade or so. I'd like to thank my dermatologist and Tretinoin cream. What's happened here could not have done without you two...

My Burberry sunglasses finally arrived a week ago. I returned the expensive Charles David shoes I bought on Zappos.com, and bought a similar pair for only $40 at BCBG. Me and my TT partner lost the finals. (Not that you care to know, but I feel the need to close the loop regarding these things since I mentioned them in a previous post.)

I've come to terms with living with poker. It's not going to go away any time soon, but it's not cancer. And in the grand scheme of things, hanging out with my poker friends is worth more than the amount of money I lose to my them in poker. Earlier this month, I even tried to get my poker friends interested in going on a poker cruise in December, but not enough people can/want to do it this time.

The cruise I went on with my family to Baja California in July was pleasant. It was better than last year's cruise to Alaska, mainly because we are all in a better space this year. I'll leave it at that, without further explanation. There were many more young people on this year's cruise... many teenage bodies to ogle. I felt like a dirty ol' man. Speaking of which... in an open air market in Ensenada, I got pressured by an ol' Mexican dude into buying what is likely a fake-silver ring that is about five sizes too big for Babe's finger. I knew I was getting gypped, but I was so anxious to get out of that shop without further pressure and bargaining that I accepted his final offer, threw him my money and escaped. But not before he planted his rough ol' lips on my cheek. A kiss as a thank you gesture, I hope, but doubt, is commonly practiced in those parts. Instead of considering what happened there as an 'I got bamboozled' experience, I am considering it as a good deed done for that day. I donated to the less fortunate. And that's already more than I feel like saying about the cruise.

I've gone over a quota for blogging for today. TTYL

Folks. I gotta tell ya... I AM ITCHY.

I hate bugs, and they love me. They love to bite me, suck my blood, have their way with my flesh... They're not biting me here at work. And everywhere else that I am, Babe is too. But Babe boasts no bug bites.

I got two big bug bites over the weekend while white water rafting and camping at Upper Cache Creek.

I've gotten a bunch of small bug bites in the last few weeks. They probably feast on me while I'm sleeping at night. Every morning, I find a new bite. They didn't just bite my abs and arms... they had the audacity to bite my right boob and my left butt cheek as well! Have they no shame??

These bugs are incessant. They are relentless. They are undeterred by unrequited love.

You think I'm being a baby... aggravated by such measly things as bug bites. Well, it's not as bad that I'm being bitten a lot, as it is that I'm being singled out for bittening. The buggers are picking on me!

But I did have a good time at Upper Cache Creek. I recommend the 2-day trip offered by White Water Adventures. I've been on class 4+ white water that wasn't as enjoyable as the class 3 white water at Cache Creek. Self-guided rafting is much better than rafting with a boring guide who fails to be funny and entertaining while ordering you around for five hours. The non-luxury camping - no showers or flush toilets - was fun, even though two days is not long enough to get used to the horseshit smell of the outhouses. I kinda liked being sticky and having really nappy hair and smelly pits for two days. We were fed some huge potatoes. And we got to dance to loud music among the trees, in the canyon, under the stars and with disco lights and a smoke machine and the glowing bands they handed out to everyone. That was a bit bizarre, but a cool experience nonetheless.

You didn't think I'd ever blog again, did you? I'm really not sure why I blog when I do, or don't blog when I don't. I will when I will. And I will. I know it's important to record my goings-on somewhere...

Most of the time, it's just "how's it going?" But every now and then, I get a "hey, what's new?" while I'm on one of my frequent visits to the break room at work. I get accosted for an update on my life, even as I am dashing out of the room, head down, eyes averted away from the other people in the room, so as not to elicit any signals that could be misinterpreted as a desire to socialize. If I wasn't always so ravenous and didn't have such a weakness for free food, I'd avoid the break room altogether, just to avoid such verbal assaults...

"Nothing's new. Nothing's ever new! How about you? What's new with you? Do you have a non-nothing answer for your own question?"