In homage to Aaron's recent listage of the entire content of his desktop...I have decided to do the same. Yeah, this list could get long.

-computer monitor
-keyboard
-speakers
---(on top of monitor):
-plastic crow
-roll of duct tape with stuffed gorilla stuffed inside
-dredal
-candy pumpkin with sharpie face drawn on it
-aerated can of coke
-unopened can of coke with only 1/4 of the contents inside (yeah, I don't understand either)
-mini bongo christmas ornament
-plastic kangaroo toy (with baby roo in pouch)
---(taped to front of monitor):
-candy cane dressed like a reindeer
-smiley face sticker
-guitar pick holder from Thailand
-11 sticky notes (including messages such as "lesbian computer")
---(to the left of monitor):
-scanner
-pencil sharpener
-can of air
---(on top of scanner):
-empty container of dark chocolate covered caramels
-dark chocolate coffee bar
-papers (including song lyrics, christmas cards, and aaron's spanish paper)
-cd helper from my psych book from last semester
-pictures from my trip to San Francisco
---(to right of monitor):
-empty arizona iced tea jug
-cheerwine bottle slowly filling with pennies
-empty coke can full of $22.20 in silver change
-clay mold entitled "#17 Santa Face"
-2 pairs of nail clippers
-chinese serenity ball thingies
-jar of pico de gallo chip dip
-stapler remover
-5" kershaw knife
-sobe power gum
-harmonica
-spiked bracelet
-8 VHS tapes with who knows what on them
-about 30 boxes of matches
-3 lighters
-2 kinds of chapstick
-2 pairs of sunglasses
-countless receipts and pieces of scrap paper
-listerine pocket mints
-spanish/english translator
-silver nail polish
-guitar tuner
-more...lots more

Weeee...wasn't that fun? Sorry. I promise to never do that again.

Long story short: I took a shower and was getting dried when I suddenly heard a knock at the door. I looked down and noticed that I was still naked (ok, so I don't really have to look to see if I'm naked...usually), and decided that it would most likely not be appropriate to answer the door in all my undressed splendor. Since I did not know how long this person would wait I threw on my pants and shirt and answered the door. I was then distracted by many a task and soon I was on my way to work on a project where I am the assistant editor (also known as "royal exalted button-pusher") Then it hit me...I wasn't wearing any underwear. Or more accurate would be "I wasn't wearing any boxers" since I don't wear underwear. Or wait, are boxers called underwear? Nevermind. Not the point. I had on no undergarments. No, this didn't really lend to any funny and slightly embarrassing situations, but it changes allot when you don't wear underwear (I will use the term "underwear" to describe undergarments of all kinds henceforth) At about 12:00am I was restless. I ate some beef jerky, chocolate and caramel (no, not together) and grabbed my longboard. It is amazingly peaceful to ride through the empty streets in the middle of the night hearing only the sound of the wheels on the street. And the sound of the police walky-talky. I guess the Chapman cops are after someone because I saw four of their little cop SUV's and passed a cop on foot talking into his walky-talky saying he was going to try and head them off around the corner. Whoever "them" is. I then sat on a bench outside and just looked up at the moon for a while. Still underwearless mind you. There's something amazing about seeing your breath. It's like being able to see emotion. It's something that's always there, you can feel it's touch, but you can never physically see it. And when you can see your breath take physical form it's like seeing your emotions take physical form...it's pretty incredible. And I don't remember the last time I did more than just look up and say, "the moon is beautiful tonight." It's nice to just watch the moon. Watch it long enough to actually see it move. Feel the cold air slowly creep up on you and seep into your skin. Notice your breath in the air lessen as your body temperature lowers. And now I'm sitting here, listening to Radiohead, feeling slightly nauseas due to the mix of beef jerky and chocolate, still not wearing underwear, and all is well with the world.

I push buttons. As in...on a cash register. I wear a little plastic nametag that says "Grant" on it. I wear khaki pants, a white polo shirt, and a green apron. I change lemonade containers, refill napkins, mop floors, empty garbage cans, steal cookies, wipe down tables, restock the chips, and smile the whole time. I say "small or regular?" so many times that I was told that I asked that question in my sleep. I can say, "ham genoa salami cotto salami cheddar mozzarella parmesan mustard onions olives lettuce and tomato on a toasted sourdough bun" quicker than most people can say "hi." I count change. I make minimum wage. I get food half price, but since we have a sandwich containing over 2,000 calories, I don't eat their too often. I speak spanish to the kitchen people. I steal pre-packaged cheesecake. I get insane satisfaction over the fact that I have keys to the store. I know the security code. I can't turn the alarm off. I clean bathrooms. I refill soap dispensers. I tell people what I think is good, even though I have had a mere 3 items from the menu. I make small talk. I stare people in the eyes. I accidentally charge people $2,009 for a sandwich, chips and a drink. I am afraid of the 6'5" boss. I am 5'9". I imagine what weird things I would find if I were to scour the security tapes. I don't wash my apron. I cut lemons. I close the store. I clean up spills, crumbs, and leftovers. I get angry when someone takes 50 napkins, even though I do it myself. I drink lots of lemonade. Did I mention that I make minimum wage?

Road Trip Travel Log

Notice: Though situations and events may appear false or exaggerated, all events (including those not photographically proven true) are indeed true. No names or places have been changed to protect the embarrassed. All material given is suitable blackmail material.

On the Road to San Jose

Naomi and I set out bright and early with 320 cd's, a bag of junk food, a full tank of gas, and 380 miles to traverse. I tied a small plush soccer ball attached to an elastic cord to the back of Naomi's car, offering countless minutes of laughter as it bounced haphazardly around in the wind. This was followed by a brief stop at a Red Robin where we stole a cup and made a little man out of a cheese stick, lettuce, ketchup, and a french fry. We reached San Jose 6 hours later.

San Jose

My brother happens to have a huge bucket filled with Golf Land tokens. (for those not in the know...Golf Land is a miniature golf place with an arcade) Naomi and I packed up a baggie with about $100 worth of tokens and cautiously entered the arcade with tokens hidden in purse. It seems that Golf Land has changed all their machines since these tokens were obtained, making them obsolete in all but one machine. One machine that is quite generous in the ticket giving department. Luckily this machine had a twin sitting right next to it. So we pumped every last token into this game...and jammed one of the machines in the process. We walked up to the counter and handed the guy a recoculous amount of tickets. Ends up we swindled a good 15,000+ tickets. We started talking to this oh so helpful employee and found that he hated his job. This led to him giving us a bunch of useless crap that would have cost us many more thousands of tickets. Hoorah for disgruntled employees of minimum wage jobs. We hit the local Toys R Us to try and find some madlib books, and I spent the whole time riding around the store on a little scooter...nearly killing some unaware pedestrians. Then I was attacked by a large plastic ball thingy. Then we prepared for San Francisco. I prepared a little more than Naomi did.

San Francisco

We found our hostel, got aquainted with the room, got bundled up, and went out to find what we could find. This included a gang of chefs, one transvestite, more massage parlors and hot bath houses than you could shake a stick at, and a surprisingly easy to use public transportation system. We spent each morning at the Moulin Rouge, a French themed, American breakfast restaurant run by a Chinese couple. Then we went to Height Street (of which our only photographic evidence is this tree) where we found plenty of cool thrift stores. Now I'm not known to drink alcohol, but I still somehow end up doing things you would only expect a drunk to do. I ended up in some extremely tight leather pants. I ended up doing this (please don't ask...I truthfully have no clue). And I snorted a pile of pepper up my nose at some restaurant. That last one left a burning sensation in my nostrils for a good two hours. We then found a leather shop that had everything half off. This included some bracelets, wristbands, and...seeing as this ended up also being a sex store...whips, chains, paddles, and some large spiky metal devices I don't even want to know about. That night we went up Grant Street and walked through Chinatown. I almost ended up with a ninja sword, a grappling hook, and some ninja stars. Oh, and this great hat that had a fake black pony tail attached to the back. Naomi bartered with the jewelry store owners to try and score an amber or jade ring, but found nothing.

On the Road to Orange

We stopped to get some breakfast at a place called the Cup and Saucer. I busied myself with attempting to balance all the creams on top of each other. And believe me, I was quite content with myself when I accomplished this difficult feat. We drove through some ridiculously heavy fog over a lake, which looked beautiful. We stopped at Red Robin again. They didn't recognize us. They didn't mention a missing cup. We were in the clear. We passed a field that seemed to be on fire. And we finally ended up at home sweet home.

Over all, this trip rocked the free world...and communist china...and Chinatown for that matter. I ended up with a leather bracelet, 10 new cd's, and enough embarrassing pictures to last a lifetime (oh, you think you saw all the pictures? ha!) Good times. Good times indeed. Next time it's all the way to Oregon baby. Or Vegas. Who knows.

p.s. every time a roll of film is taken where I am one of the subjects...a pictures just like this ends up in the mix. Every time. Just like that. I must have 15 pictures of my chin. And I'm really not sure why.

Well boys and girls...I have survived one heck of a crazy weather phenomenon. Two nights ago the wind came out to play. And just like a real big dog that thinks it is play-biting you softly, but draws blood, the wind underestimated it's playful power. 70 mph winds pummeled our fourth floor room, shaking it like a poorly built erector-set. The sky would light up brilliant blue every so often, which Aaron and I thought was merely lightning. Ends up a telephone pole fell in the path of a train. This train ran over the pole, dragging it along the tracks, and subsequently blowing out 30 or so transformers. Each explosion lit up the sky like the fourth of July. (is anyone but me wondering why I'm using so many cheesy comparisons?) Though I thought our window would not last the night without shattering, the only real damage was the electricity going out. It's quite nice to lay in bed in total darkness and hear nothing...all that electric hum silenced. It was so quiet I’m surprised I couldn't hear our freezer defrosting. Or all the cold air escaping our refrigerator, forcing the poor defenseless milk to partake in a battle of life or death with it's arch nemesis...warm air. I am sad to inform you all that the milk lost this battle. Along with a burrito, some ice cream, and something wrapped in foil that I'm afraid to open. And as of 10 minutes ago I can once again connect to the internet.

Oh, and I'll be gone for about a week. Starting tomorrow. It's road trip time.

Happy new year everyone. I don't know how you spent the last few minutes of the somewhat hellish, somewhat incredible 2002, but I spent it in some borrowed pajamas drinking martinellis out of plastic champagne glasses. Doesn't get much better than that. No...I'm serious. I have never made new year's resolutions...but hey...it's never too late to start.

Grant's New Years Resolutions for 2003

-- to not write "2002" on everything for the next three months
-- to write more in my journal
-- to take a road trip
-- to go to at least one big concert
-- to write at least five songs for my band
-- to never use the phrase "bling bling"
-- to stop leaving listerine pocket mint packages in my pants when i wash them
-- to never do a cover of the song "jenny from the block"
-- to quit my job at schlotzskeys
-- to take the condom off my bike seat (don't ask...I didn't put it there)
-- to move into my first house
-- to learn how to write more than just "grant" in hebrew
-- to not end up naked in front of a group of more than three
-- to never convince myself that i can sing well
-- to read at least twenty books (with more words than pictures)
-- to find at least one occasion for which i have to dress up
-- to cry at least one tear because i am so happy