living out of a suitcase for almost a month

patrick refers to us as the wonder twins
because we can both shoot, edit and run for twelve hours straight
for a week straight.

but i think brooks is more hardcore than me
because he parties at krave until 5am and still kicks ass the next day.
me, i need at least seven hours of sleep.

brooks, in my hotel room. last morning in vegas.


we were sent off to the avn convention to get some coverage for the show
and i got to meet my hero.
(yeah, i cropped myself out of the pic because i look like a short, fat troll
standing next to someone who just exudes sexuality and femininity.)

yesterday afternoon, i made a silly short video of my little trip to the east coast.

(video footage from a dinky canon powershot)

straight out of a korean soap opera

i hate airports.
they’re depressing
because i’m always reminded that no matter where you go,
whatever adventures you embark on,
they always have to end.


(view from the plane)

and then you’re left with 2 gigs of photos, a buttload of memories

and you wake up thinking you’re still there,
but you’re here, alone in your cluttered apartment.


currently listening to:
i tease my friends whenever they listen to mars or even thomas trouble,
but everyone has a guilty pleasure
and sometimes when no one is around,
i’ll blast

this record
and sing along.. *shakes teh bootay*

.. in this perfectly marvelous place

rain busted my ankle on new years eve while we were running to catch a taxi.
i was in linh’s four inch heels.

was supposed to head back to boston the the following day,
but i was immobile.
what a sneaky, clever way to get a girl to extend her stay in new york.

after steve poked me with needles,
i was miraculously able to walk again
so we took a day trip around the financial district yesterday.

rain, caught in the act.


he took this shot.


gno in new york

cynthia, vi, tina and i hopped on the chinatown bus to new york for the weekend.

six clubs in one night,
but i only made it to three.
hung out with some hookers in the back of some pick-up truck.

took the taxi back to the hotel by myself and passed out.
got woken up at 7am by loud, drunk girls jumping on the bed,
singing a-ding a-ding a-ding a-ding.

“what the hell veanne?!
you used to be hella hardcore
and now you’re all weak sauce.”

i handed over my mvp title to vi.

at the remote lounge.


our picture made it on their website.

somewhere in new york.


currently listening to:

this track was playing at every club we went to

recap la la la

things i’ve done in the past two weeks:

i flew to boston to see nat.
then we drove to new york with alex and joe (two of my favorite monkeys).
i’ve always thought that seeing les miserables on broadway
would be a culminating experience in musical theatre..
well, aside from london.

i’ve seen les mis eight or nine times.
how odd..
that i would be most unimpressed by broadway’s production.
fantine couldn’t reach soprano without cracking her ugly voice,
the sound was too low, the microphones had loose wiring somewhere,
and most of all, the cast didn’t have the *unf* to carry out a solid, vehement,
“tomorrow we’ll discover what our god in heaven has in stored,
one more dawn, one more day, ONE DAY MORE!”

“times square, one of the few places where i’m outside but i feel as if though i’m inside.”


alex, such a hottie.


late afternoon, before getting back to work,
melissa, in her flippity floppity sandals, and i
ran through the fierce, fierce rain.

ruberts by the window, while the thunder went, “bbrrrooooom!”


last night, a few of us checked out the opening of whisper,
a new club in san francisco.

jeremy dances to that tequila song.


harry who’s diva house is so geigh, but oh so much fun to dance to.