Sunday, April 15, 2007 isn't "ownership" a little absurd?

Last night Dre and I went to a concert at the Gibson. KCRW puts on this show every year called Sounds Eclectic where they have a bunch of bands play like 30 minutes, one after the other. We saw Cold War Kids, Rodrigo y Gabriela, Lily Allen, and The Shins. Also, apparently there's always some special guest. To our delight, Travis was special last night. Which was good since they salvaged the $80 I spent on a ticket. Well, them and Rodrigo y Gabriela, who I'm pretty sure have sold their souls. They were phenomenal and the first band EVER to make me love Stairway to Heaven (no hate mail please... just not a Zepplin fan). Anyway, the other bonus? You get to sit down! I'd have been pissed if I had to stand for four hours in my super-cute-but-completely-impractical boots. Actually, I wouldn't have worn them at all had I not known we would be able to sit and since I still need to lower the cost-per-wear on those chumps, the arrangement worked out nicely.


You know what I'm doing *right* now? Avoiding filing my taxes. It's going to be an arduous exercise, and like most things painful or even just slightly nettlesome, I prefer to defer until there is no other choice. Which reminds me, I had a non-break up this weekend. 'Non-break ups' are those things which occur between two people who are a non-couple. 'Non-couple' is, of course, the description used for individuals who act like a couple in most ways except name. The absence of name occurs when one or both suffer from a pathological fear of commitment so that when you do finally break up, (which is inevitable given the reluctance to commit in the first place), you don't have to call it a break up. See? Pretty simple stuff.

So here I am, thinking about break ups, which is easier than doing my taxes, and because I'm also an incurable optimist, I'm thinking about the *very best* thing about break-ups: The Break Up Diet (or in this case, the Non-Break Up Diet). This is where you're not hungry AND you feel like working out all the time. It's genius. I assumed they only surfaced when you experience a super behemoth separation ( see 2005's Epic Break-Up) but apparently I get the perks even for the fakeys.


Yoga's like this old friend who, even when I blow it off for say, my job, or (sadly) America's Next Top Model, is always right there to pick up where we left off. Yoga, you're so cool.

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