Death of a Bicycleman

Finally, the Christmas tree picture. Happy after-Thanksgiving! I hope everyone had as nice a one as we did here. Julia hosted our dinner for 10 in her swanky new downtown loft. The table was large enough for all of us AND all the food we cooked. We started the morning out with the usual Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf tradition courtesy of Amy and Joey. I got a 19lb turkey to cook, my biggest one ever. I was, of course, in my element acting as master of the kitchen. It's a delicious sort of symphony, putting dishes in the oven, pulling dishes out, while making gravy from scratch. I loved every minute. Not that I did everything, we had some great contributions from everybody that really rounded out the day. We also had some unexpected guests that I was so happy to see. It was a really great day.

Naturally my semi bi-polar self, after having such a lovely day, had to drop back down to the depths. The last two days have been shamefully sad and hopeless for no discernible reason. To top off the general angst, I have a traumatizing story to tell. Today as I was driving to work I had an incident with a bicycler. It had to happen someday, what with all the retards of L.A. either riding a bicycle or stepping without looking into a barely marked crosswalk. Those people must think they have some sort of force field surrounding them that makes them impervious to 2,000lb vehicles driving 50 miles an hour....they can stop them with sheer will power you see. Normally I take this into account and watch so carefully, but you can't see whats behind you. I don't really know what happened. All I heard was a bunch of cursing and shouting. I thought I'd run over a cone or something and the parking guy was yelling at me. Turns out there was a man down on a bicycle. He must have hit me or, I him, when I was turning right into the parking lot. And just in case the LAPD runs across this blog, I stopped, checked with him to make sure he was ok, offered to call someone, and he just continued to yell at me and then walked away. The last person I should call when something like this happens is my mother. Who, bless her heart (that was for you Shan), has the best of intentions towards helping me out, but usually just ends up making me more upset. I called Shannon first, and the douche didn't answer, of course. I was freaked out and upset so I called mom. By the time I got off the phone I fully expected that there was a Sheriff's Posse, air support, and most of LAPD out in force looking for the rogue bicycle maimer that left the scene of the crime. I stopped by our security office, they let me know that there was nothing to be done. However, by the time I got to my bosses office they simply had to ask me if I was okay before I proceeded to burst into hysterical tears. They were really nice about it but I hate crying at work. It's such a girl thing to do. Anyway, by the time I left tonight I was ready to crawl into a hole and never emerge again. Luckily today is Julia's birthday so I was required by the People-who-have-been-friends-for Over-10-Years Codebook to suck it up and go out. I'm very glad that I did because I feel moderately more sane. It's always good to be the one who's friends are almost all older than her.

In other news, I've been watching Alias non-stop. I HIGHLY recommend the show, against my wishes I totally love it. Amy has 4 seasons on DVD and I'm up to Season 3. And, if I haven't mentioned it yet. GO SEE ROCKNROLLA! I'm not kidding. It's been out awhile so it might be out of theatres near you but you can put it on your Netflix now. As for me, it's purchase-worthy, which says alot. FYI, 60 pages in on the screenplay. It's not like I haven't been doing stuff, like school, work, and writing, yet I still feel like a lazy-ass. Maybe I'm too hard on myself.