Laundromat, you're all right.

As you have probably surmised, this is to be a Lame Laundry Saturday. [Ed. note: I started this entry on Saturday. Please disregard any past or future-tense references to last weekend.] I was out late last night, and tomorrow I have to go to the Tenderloin to help a friend sell the last of his stuff before he's rendered homeless [Ed. note: that was really fucking depressing], so today I took the chance to clean, and finally unpack my suitcase from Hawaii trip.

Yep, even though I got back to California almost two weeks ago, I still hadn't unpacked. When I threw it in the washing machine, my bikini was still the crumpled, damp ball it was when I stuffed it in my suitcase in Dean’s car as we made our way from the beach to the airport. The suit was starting to smell.

So I'm here where it's foggy and cold, my school semester has started up again, I'm working with some fellow actors to coordinate future performance opportunities, and I haven't written anything in about a month. I'll take the time now, before I get all overwhelmed again.

Dean, on the other hand, ever the taskmaster, has already written three entries about our visit, so if you want a more linear account, he's your man. If, however, you'd like something totally nonsensical and stream-of-consciousness ... welcome.

In celebration of the debauchery I'm to account, I will start by describing the visit in terms of our favorite Seven Deadly Sins.

SLOTH

With people as poor and busy as Dean and I, two of the most wicked inevitabilities of maintaining a long-distance relationship are time and expenses. Time, because we have to plan months in advance for a week-long visit, and expenses, because if you haven't noticed, airfare is astronomical. Time and expenses in conjunction, because since we are poor and busy, we each have to work while being visited by the other. Our vacations have to be taken separately, because if we both took the same week off, it would be a longer period of time before either of us could afford to see the other again.

That's the reality. But since we are both such incredible and attractive individuals, we know that joint awesomeness is worth the effort.

Anyway, when we did have time together, we made sure our schedules made room for a whole lot of nothing ... known in some circles as "naked time."

Sure, there was socializing and wine tasting and roller coastering and beaching and camping, but there were also hours and hours dedicated to movies and cartoons. Something I noticed: when you watch more than one zombie movie in succession, you really start believing in zombies. When you go outside, you wonder who around you is undead. Of course, from there, you have to calculate strategies of escape.

Even when slothful, I become more educated.

GLUTTONY

I think I ate more take out during those weeks than I have in the past year. Not that I'm complaining. Pizza and ice cream with cartoons in the background is one of life's great luxuries.

Another is big, stupid Hawaiian drinks with props included.

(That's me with the goofy face behind the buckets of multicolored booze.)

PRIDE

Well, Dean and I just happen to be better than anyone else. That's not pride, it's just accuracy. When in a crowd, we like to compare ourselves to other couples and see who's the cutest, and we always win, even if one of the couples we're up against happens to be getting married. (Therefore, we are perhaps not the most gracious wedding guests.) We are our own judges, which is only fair, because naturally, one is one's own harshest critic.

Revolted yet?

Well, how about this: Totally off-topic, today I read about a holistic treatment known as "urine therapy," wherein a sufferer drinks his/her own pee to cure everything from yeast infections to cancer. Apparently, once you get over the gag reflex, drinking your urine can cure what ails ya. Pee is the new chicken soup. If matzoh ball soup is the Jewish penicillin, I guess pee is monkey penicillin.

How about now? Revolted?

GREED

It's difficult in this context to differentiate between gluttony and greed. Maybe greed is the jumping-off point for gluttony. "I really want pizza" turns into "I really want all of the pizza," and then, "I wish I had more pizza." Same for other enjoyable things that have been pegged as vices, such as booze, laziness, and the aforementioned "naked time."

The uncharacteristic extravagance of those few weeks leaves me with a thought, though. Man, I really wish I had more money.

Inspiring! As Michael Douglas said, "Greed is Good." And if Michael Douglas didn't creep me right the fuck out the door, and Darryl Hannah and Charlie Sheen weren't two of the most boring actors ever, maybe I would made it all the way through "Wall Street" and been able to draw some pertinent associations between the film and the visit. But.

ENVY

I think I'll limit my discussion of this one in order to avoid making myself seem like a neurotic psycho. Let's just say that I'm a Scorpio, and one of our overriding characteristics, aside from being total sexpots, is that we are CRAZY JEALOUS.

Not that I'm crazy jealous. In fact, I've been told more than once that I'm really nice for a Scorpio. That's because I am rational enough about my jealousy to see and admit to the insecurities it stems from; which doesn't make me any more of a picnic to deal with when it flares ... which it rarely does.

I swear.

REALLY.

Stop judging me. Fucking bitch.

WRATH

In line for roller coasters, Dean and I kept busy playing Rock-Paper-Scissors, in which the winner of each round gets to lord over the loser by putting index and forefingers together and smacking the hell out of the inside of the loser's elbow. If you are merciless enough, your sparring partner will be streaked with bruises near the vein, making him/her look like a heroin addict.

I was, by far, the more bruised of the two of us. Dean hits girls with glasses.

I'm still working on my technique. I admit, I hit like a girl with glasses.

LUST

I know I volunteered to write the review for How To Make Love All Night (and Drive a Woman Wild), but this is not that kind of blog. No details. Just a tip for the ladies, though: as much as I'm a cheerleader for spur-of-the-moment passion, always remove your tampon before having sex. Otherwise, you might spend a couple of worrisome hours on the final day of your vacation trying to dislodge the cotton from your nethers while panicking that it's clogging your fallopian tubes. Just a tip.

I managed to cover the sins that lie at the base of all fun and evil while going into very little detail about the visit.

I'll be back. Back here, and back to Hawaii.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Chris - 03.21.07

Zooming Around - 01.26.07

I Met Courtney Love and Can't Think Of a Good Title - 11.08.06

Metacrap - 10.20.06

7 - 09.12.06

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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