Me at the beginning of 2022 (oh my naivety)
Me (thanks to May and especially June) at the end of the first half of 2022:
The rants and raves of some chick when she's not busy writing stories/poems.
Me at the beginning of 2022 (oh my naivety)
Me (thanks to May and especially June) at the end of the first half of 2022:
(Note: I wrote most of this Monday afternoon, especially the first paragraph.)
I’m still kind of worn out from all the walking and dancing I did yesterday at the San Jose Jazz Festival, and I’m also coming out of a churro daze (I made churros for dessert and they were scrump-diddly-umptious). So if this post reads like someone coming off a hash bender wrote it, my lingering lethargy is the reason why. (“Oh, but isn’t that how you normally write?”–you)
Seen from the entrance of the festival.
Prior to getting there, I faced a few minor setbacks. I almost forgot my hand sanitizer at home. I made the very-Mensa move by buying my lawn chair the day of the festival. And only the expensive ones were in-stock at Target. (Oh, and I didn’t bother using the chair in the end. Easy return, I guess.) When I arrived in SJ, I couldn’t find the parking area where I made a parking reservation at. It was only until I settled for street parking that things started to look up. For one, street parking in downtown SJ is free on Sundays, and I parked just a block away from the main festivities!
Some of the artwork spotted at the event. That’s supposed to be Kobe but he’s got his afro from his #8 jersey days and the face is giving me drunk Will Smith with corny B-movie villain eyebrows.
Views of the main stage while some event goers jam to the music.
Performer Tia Carroll with the Greaseland All-Stars on the Big Easy Stage. What a singer!
The park at downtown SJ couldn’t hold all the stages in one spot (there are six stages and the park only accomodated two), and when I heard that there was a stage for Latin Jazz performances a block away, I made a beeline over there.
Not surprising, there were plenty of people getting their mambo on!
Not pictured: me doing the same thing. Taking selfies while in motion is kind of tough.
The main act and more is after the cut!
What am I doing posting here when I should instead be working on converting my finished story into an eBook and marketing it to y’all? Yes, I need to reevaluate my priorities, but when you’ve been busy with your regular job the past week and all you want to do when you get home after a long work day is stick your feet in the feet massager (that you got for $5 at a thrift store, TYVM) while binge-watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer, why should I bother.
I’ll get the eBook project going, I swear.
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While shopping at a Home Goods yesterday, I saw a book called (IIRC) Luxury Gifts For Men. Curious over what those gifts were, I skimmed the book. Oddly, a kinky night with a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Model isn’t listed, but there were some gifts they had that I would’ve loved. They featured a Bugatti, a private island, a stay at a French chalet, and I’m wondering who the hell made that book “gifts for men” only?! Sheeit, some women and non-binaries want those gifts, too! All the more reason to make some things gender-neutral.
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Much congrats to the Milwaukee Bucks for winning the NBA Finals! A part of me pined for a Game 7, and it almost looked like the series was going to get that after that second quarter. But I’m happy for the team, and for the city of Milwaukee. This year’s Finals was one I actually enjoyed, partially because it involved two unexpected teams in cities shamefully overlooked by the major sports media.
Dat big-ass crowd outside the Bucks arena, tho. Pandemic or not, I can’t do those things anymore. Because getting old.
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Finally, nothing says insecure choad than a grown-ass person addressing their “haters” on their social media over something trivial. It’s one thing if you do that when you’re a teen, but if you’re doing that shit in your mid-30s, just fucking stop. Adult for a change.
So…rapist bitch Bill Cosby gets out of jail, even after all the proof of him drugging and raping many women over the years. But Britney Spears, who wants her life back, remains enslaved to her pimp dad aka still under conservatorship, even when she showed proof just a week ago that her dad abused her and swindled her money.
When I did my final word count on my “soon-to-be-released” novel and find out that it’s 165K+ words…
Yes, I write a lot. And a buttload of words in a novel is fine…if you’re an established writer. (Or so a bunch of writing websites tell me.) I–a first-time novelist–am tempted to nurture the rule-breaker in me and just put it out with its original word count. But, to be on the safe side, I’ll keep a copy of the long version and go do a big trim job on my story. That still needs artwork and e-pub formatting and all that jazz. Le sigh.
Because I’m a breast chick, anything titty-related gets my attention. This happened in LA today.
I should applaud the effort but I’m feeling nitpicky today. (It’s the PMS.) If the sign crashers made the effort to climb up that terrain to make the sign worthy of a thousand Beavis and Butthead laughs (although, in fairness, the “wood” part alone gets them LOLing), they could have pulled up the first B to cover up that W, and also created another big B to cover up that D. Unless you get up close to the sign, no one’s gonna see that line through that D! It will read HOLLYwBOOD from the 101! I’m giving this a reluctant one tit up, and Hollyweed still has yet to meet its match!
Saw this while walking around Broadway Plaza in WC. Can’t wait until I see the “Reay Wen Yppah” display at the end of next month.
Also, in case another wants to post that pic elsewhere, I left my mark.
Yes, I know I posted this same GIF a while back, but it’s more fitting now since it’s fall (aka the season department stores rudely ignore after Halloween is over) and there won’t be another Friday the 13th in autumn until 2023.
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