Chip & Salsa Rule the World

I’m eating chips and salsa from my fave Mexican restaurant here in town, Pelayo’s. They came with the lunch we ordered yesterday, and I held off on eating it until tonight because I wanted to savor their food. It’s some of my favorite stuff, so I try to prolong every Pelayo’s experience as much as possible. It’s weird, yes. I understand that. However, it’s almost 11pm on a Saturday, I’m eating chips and salsa, and you’re not. And methinks you’re jealous.

Of course, now that I’m sitting here in my freshly-cleaned room (Saturday chores are good for something!), eating said chips and salsa, and trying to keep warm…I’m finding my brain is running amuck, pondering all sorts of random shit.

For instance, right now there’s an episode of TNG playing on my TV behind me…”The Bonding” to be precise. And I can’t help but think how cool it’d be for the future to really end up a lot like Star Trek. All tidy and precise and very very clean. And all those different species to hang out with. I mean, how cool would that be? Klingons! Ferengi! Vulcans! Oh I’d love to hang out with a few Klingon…

Which leads my brain onto the next topic…that of Wil Wheaton. Of course, most people have heard of his website, Wil Wheaton dot net. Right? So you’re probably aware that he’s written a couple of books. His first book, Dancing Barefoot, is a collection of short stories based on blog entries he’d made on his site. There are some nice little life lessons included on the stories, and it’s a good first book for anyone. His second book is a bit more of a raw look at his life. Titled Just a Geek, it’s almost painful to read at times because he’s so brutally honest about how his life has been since TNG, and it’s not a pretty thing. And it’s all I can do not to just want to feel really really sorry for him. I mean, life really can suck for actors. It’s such a rough life, and no matter how fantastic you are, there’s not always a guarantee you will make it anywhere. I couldn’t imagine living my life like that. I loved the stage…a lot. Performing was such a high, almost orgasmic at times. But I couldn’t even fathom having to base my entire life off of it and worry about my image or how I’m going to put food on the table tomorrow. No thanks, I’m happier being a monkey at a desk in the corporate world.

My mind’s already moved on from Wil Wheaton, though…to my new haircolor. Oh, it’s not very different from the one I already had. But when I went to the store today they were out of my normal brand (Feria Power Reds)…and my roots are showing something fierce, so I just snagged the closest thing I could find, which ended up being Garnier’s 100% Color. My head now smells intensely like flowers and I’m not sure if the color is what I really wanted. My hair was so burgundy under the spell of Feria, it was practically purple in the sunlight. A very cool color indeed. This stuff in my hair right now is more of a brownish burgundy, and it’s not as dark or eye-popping as the Feria. We’ll see how this all sorts out in six weeks. If I don’t like it, I can always go right back to Feria. I’m just worried that sometime in the next six weeks, I’m going to discover that the Feria really is the reason my hair has been falling out. I’m tired of going bald, but I LOVE that color more than chocolate (this means I love it A WHOLE FUCKING LOT). So it’s a constant source of internal struggle for me. I don’t need more internal struggle. My internal struggles enough as it is.

These chips and salsa are still tasty. But the salsa is starting to burn my tongue a bit. And now I’ve dripped it all over the front of my Everett Ridge Winery shirt I’m wearing. Fantastic.

I’m hardly noticing though because now I’ve become enthralled with the pile of Christmas cards I have on my desk, waiting to be stuffed in envelopes and addressed and stamped and mailed…I was very very displeased with the card selection I found out there this year. I kept finding either really lame designs, or really flimsy cheap cards. I have at least four boxes of cards that are rejects because I got them home and realized they were the equivalent of a folded piece of binder paper. The three remaining boxes are fine, but one box is small cards, and I feel chintzy sending them out. Like people are going to get pissy if they get a tiny card instead of a full-size card. I have 51 cards to send this year, and it’s taking everything I have to finish them all. I started with the easiest ones…all my friends and some family. People I can easily send a card to and not feel like I’m saying too little or saying something really lame. I’m trying to resist the urge to send online Christmas cards to the rest of the folk on my list.

I wish this damn salsa would warm up something other than just my tongue. I haven’t felt my toes for the past half hour, and although I’m not a worrywort, it’s still a tad disconcerting to know you’re flexing your toes and yet you can’t feel them at all.

I’m cold and tired and really want to climb into bed right now, but I can’t stop snacking on this damn salsa. It’s evil indeed. Plus there’s a pile of laundry waiting to be folded on my bed. The rest of my room is clean, but that area, alas, has remained the “refuse pile”. It’s supposed to motivate me to clean it all up and put it away, but if I wait too much longer, it will all end up on the floor again, thereby completely negating the whole purpose of its existence in the first place.

Ah…I’m off to bed. Nothing else to say right now and I really should change this shirt before I just gross myself out completely. Buenos noches, mis amigos.