The Jigtastic Journal of J. Na Na

Well, this is it.  My last post for 2006.  And my last day of work for 2006.  At this time tomorrow, I will be fast asleep.  But after that, I will be awake, frantically doing last-minute laundry and cleaning the house so it’s not a dump when I get back…from… VEGAS, baby! 

I guess the only sad part is that I’m really low on cash due to an infelicitous splurge a week or so ago.  Still, it’s VEGAS, so I’m sure I’ll still manage to have fun.  The best part, of course, is that I’m getting out of the City, which is something I don’t do often enough.  I love SF, but I just need different surroundings from time to time or else everything just blends into itself and there’s no spark or distinction to anything.

And with that, here’s wishing you and yours a rollicking new year full of love and rad-ass shit.  *Cheers, biotch*

"Justin Timberlake is, like, so black, he’s not even black anymore.  He’s, like, Namibian.  I’m surprised he doesn’t have a lip plate and a horn through his nose."
–Kathy Griffin

I know it’s mean, but I love it when someone gets trapped at the back of the bus.  You know, when the bus stops, and they try to get out the back door, but it won’t open, and they shout, "Back door".  Then it still doesn’t open, so they shout a little louder, "Back door!".  And then the bus driver, because they are just numb to the monotony of their job and/or want to be mean, just drives on.  And then person is always, always llllivid.

I love it.  And I’m glad it never happened to me.

Jay Bakker (yes, the veritable son of Jim and Tammy Faye) is my new hero.  Even if you’re not religious, you can’t help but be moved by the reality show on his alternative Christian church, "One Punk Under God".  He actually represents what Christianity is truly about (forgiveness, compassion vs. multi-billion, politically-motivated, fascistic church corporations).

She-Ra totally trumps He-Man.

I miss "The Muppet Babies".

I love guys with orange hair. Not necessarily tangerine-dyed orange hair (although that’s hot), but orange like they used to have it dyed brown or black, and it’s starting to fade to this kind of copperish color. I can’t tell you why, but I find it so hot.

My new drink is the Tanquery apple-tini. Ya mix ya some Tanquery and unfiltered, organic apple juice (it is key that it be unfiltered and organic, not that saccharine Odwalla brand or worse, that shit from concentrate, so that it comes out smoooov), and a spritz of diet tonic water. Stir, serve chilled, and enjoy, jigga lean!

I had a dream last night that involved letting several stray cats into my apartment. It’s clear that J. Co and I need to get on the ball and get a kitty soon.

One week ’til Vegas. Two until a whole new year.

I came home yesterday after work and took a nap, only to awake later and not know where I was.  I was home.  And it was horrifying.  Has happened to me once before.  Will likely happen again when I get old.

It’s rainy and my nose is runny.  There’s not much more to say.

Many mornings, just before I wake up, I have these brilliant ideas for songs that I hope to one day write though I at present have no instruments or recording devices to do so. It’s inspiring, if not a bit frustrating.

It helps to be tall. More so for others than myself at times. For instance, I have, on more than one occasion, been asked and obliged in helping others get things from the top shelf at the grocery store. Once, this chick was in line ahead of me, and said she would have to come back to the register because she needed help getting something from the top shelf. "I can get it for you," I said. And it was a bottle of lube I ended up getting for her. Yum.

I need a new belt.

Can you bring, like, a bottle of vodka on a plane with you?  I’m just planning for my trip to Vegas.

You do realize that when crossing a street, it’s only by a wish and a prayer that you get by alive?

As the end of the year draws near, I have to say upon reflecting upon my life that I’m in a state comfortable stasis.  Not entirely satisfying, but not wholly dissatisfying.  While every year of your life seems to whisk by when you’re younger with all the changes that happen, the years just sort of blindly tramp on by when you’re older. 

I had a dream last night that I was on a long, endless waterslide.  And I still managed to not wet the bed, wouldn’t you know.

I came into the lobby of my office building to the smell of morning-warm old people gas this morning.  Yummers.

Those Botox Cosmetic commercals call to me.

Nia packed up and left with Chloe in tow on Saturday, leaving me all by my lonesome for the next two weeks until J. Co can get her stuff out of storage.  Here’s to hoping I don’t have a stroke, heart attack, or any other such medical emergency during this time in which a roommate would be helpful to have to drive my passed out ass to the hospital.

Is it "bee line" or "B line", as in, "I made a B/bee line for the door"?  And what the hell is its origin?

Folks, let’s cool it with the "Boyfriend Application" postings.  Why not advertise yourself with your words instead of with forms?  And, of course, with the requisite MySpace booty pic.