Walk Cycle

http://www.geocities.com/burgundy_trefoil/zim_walk_cycle.swf

Walk Cycle done in about one hour in Flash.

Does it feel natural?

Molasses Boy Fails

So maybe I’m horribly judgmental.  Maybe I just have expectations that surpass the capabilities of young men everywhere.  Maybe I’m just a bitch.  But just listen to my story and hear me out before you jump on me for dismissing this boy.

Molasses Boy called me on Saturday and asked me if I wanted to go to lunch today at 1pm.  During our text messages last week, he said that we should get together to continue the rather suggestive conversation, so I assumed that would be the theme of this lunch.  I said sure, but that I would have to text him in the morning to confirm because I had a meeting that I may or may not have to go to.  He said that would be fine, and to just let him know.

So, sticking to my word, I texted him around eleven this morning, and confirmed that lunch was a go.  It wasn’t until 12:44 as I stepped fresh out of the shower that I get a text from him saying

Hey just woke up can we meet at 1:45

Are you serious?  You couldn’t set an alarm to wake your ass up at noon?  If I had taken this to be just a friendly lunch then I would only have been mildly irritated, simply for the fact that I DO have other things to do besides wait around for someone.  But if you’re into a girl, and this is the first meeting/potential date  after you’ve just told her you’re into her, don’t you think you could take the time to just wake up for it?  Just don’t be forty five minutes late?  Maybe I’m crazy.

So I said fine, finding no reason to hide my annoyance, and waited for him to come.  Once he arrived, I got into his car, and we headed over to this sushi place near where I live.  Low and behold, we got there only to find that the place is closed on Sunday’s.  So we sat, lost and forlorn, in his car until he asked me where else we could get good sushi.  I hadn’t the slightest clue and I told him I would be happy with anything (not to mention that I was really hungry).  I probably would have been fine with any place he thought of,  but he just would not suggest a place.  Why he couldn’t just throw out the name of a restaurant he liked, I don’t know, but finally I suggested Chipotle, and he concurred.

So we arrived at Chipotle, parked in the garage, and entered through the side door.  Naturally, during lunchtime, the place was pretty busy and the line was to the front door.  Me, thinking nothing of it, began walking towards where the line ended, but Molasses Boy just stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Oh no, look how long the line is – we’ll never get our food.”

Again, are you serious?  I feel like Chipotle, especially the one right by our campus, is usually pretty busy.  So it’ll take twenty minutes to get food – so what?  I stood there, somewhat impatiently, and asked him what he wanted to do and he asked me, “What do you mean?”  because suddenly he no longer spoke plain English. 

“Do you want to get in line?”

“I don’t understand”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“I’m not following what you’re saying.”

“I’m asking you! Do you want to just get in line or do you want to go?”

“You mean like – cut?”

“NO WE CAN’T CUT”

“Oh then what should we do?”

“So lets just get in line!”

“Well  lets go.”

Now, at this point, my sailor’s mouth was having a really difficult time trying to find words that were not explitives, because seriously.  What the fucking hell?  I’m hungry.  Can we just get on line?  It will probably take the same amount of time for us to get in the car, drive somewhere else, and wait on another line as it would to just stay at Chipotle!

So we were walking to the car, and I was just so annoyed at this point and told him to just go wherever he wanted to go.   I think he was considering how absurd it was that he was making us go somewhere else because he stood at the car door for about a minute jingling his keys trying to tell me how long it would take to get food – until of course I told him to just open the door and drive wherever his little heart desired.  He suggested Panda Express, which was right down the road, and I said fine.  It was around quarter after two, and I hadn’t eaten yet today, and everything he was doing was getting on my nerves.

Finally we got to Panda, and ordered, and I reached the cashier – ahead of him – wondering what the deal was.  Was this a date?  Were we just two friends out to lunch?  The woman told me the price of my food, and I took out my wallet, listening for protests from him, “Oh no no, I got it.” 

But, nothing.  I pulled out my cash and paid.

So here’s where I figured any remotely romantic pursuit on his part had ended.  And that’s fine.  But why did he spend the whole week winking at me and trying to gaze into my eyes if he wasn’t going to back it up.  I don’t need to be wined and dined, but I can’t feel like I’m just out with one of my buddies. 

After he drove me home, he pulled into my driveway and asked me if he could come in and see what I had done on my animation for a class we have together.  I told him, No.  My roommate thinks I’m mean because I didn’t think of a more creative way to say no than just saying no, but I find it difficult to skirt around my ultimate message when I feel so strongly about it.  I didn’t really feel like spending any more time with him and when someone’s in you’re home, it can be a pain getting them out.

I realize towards the end of that lunch I was a little bitchy.  Maybe a lot bitchy.  But I don’t think it was completely unreasonable for me to feel that way.  He tells me he’s kind of into me, proceeds to flirt with me shamelessly, and then fools me into thinking we’re going on a date.  That clearly was not a date and he showed no remote interest in making it one.  He didn’t even mention anything that he so boldly stated over text message. 

So, I’m over him.  I’m not really sure if he feels the same about me, but I guess only the coming days will tell. 

Now, after hearing all that, was I so wrong?

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

I Am Back on Myspace And…

If you’re a business man trying to get classy women to do something sleazy – don’t let the first words out of your mouth be “you look good enough to eat.”

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

I’m a Certified Bartender!/Another Actor/Lamar the Busdriver

I passed my speed test for bartending! So on Monday I officially became a certified bartender.  I was so ridiculously nervous I was going to fail.  But now all thats left to do is get a job!

Meh.

So on the day I took the text, the class was pretty packed with people, one of whom was this curiously jolly man who had just joined the class a few days ago.  We had taken one class together, during which we talked a little bit, and I did notice a twinge of a spark, but nothing major.  Besides, he was big, blonde, and hunky, and that type’s just not my bag.

A couple of days after I took the test, I went back to the school to pick up my certificate.  He was there to take the the next class, so as I was waiting for it to be made I talked to him and another dude I had taken the course with.  We were discussing things I, perhaps, should study before I go on interviews in case I’m quizzed when Jolly Man says, “Oh you don’t have to worry.  You’re so gorgeous they’re just going to hire you.”  Then he kept telling me I was gorgeous and I just stood there smiling awkwardly, not really knowing how to react properly.  Then he gave me his card and told me to keep in contact and check out his website.  Well I did check it out, and then I checked out his myspace, and was completely turned off by the whole actor-musician thing.  For some reason that lifestyle just really doesn’t do it for me.  Maybe I’ll call him or something, but maybe I won’t.

Now for Lamar the Bus Driver.  One late night, about a week and a half ago, I was going home from the bartending class.  I have to take a bus, a train, and another bus to get home, so as you can imagine, it’s not a fun trip.  I got on the last bus, thankful that the trip was almost done, as it was around 11:30 pm, and sat in the front near the bus driver.  I’ve always considered that the safest place to be.  Then, of course, the bus driver starts talking to me, asking me inane questions about my life, and trying to engage me in a flirtatious conversation. 

This is why I took that long hiatus from men to date girls.  It’s so vexing when they just don’t get it.

I shouted answers over the buses obnoxiously loud engine, hoping that with each “WHAT’D YOU SAY?” he would just give up.  But he’s a persistent man.  I think he thought I might stand up and get closer to hear him so I could hear better, but that was just not in my plans.  Finally, we got to my stop, I stepped off the bus, and I thought “I’m free”, until he says, “So can I give you my number?” 

Before I go further, let me give you a brief description of Lamar.  He’s a hefty man.  He’s red-boned with mangled-looking teeth, and thin dreads the length of a bob.  Though the bus driver’s uniform isn’t the most flattering thing in the world, something tells me high fashion would not make him much more aesthetically pleasing.  He is an ugly man.

So I said, Yes, you can give me your number.  This is my response whenever anyone asks me if they can give me their number.  I don’t have to use it, so there’s not harm in just letting them give it to me.  So I take it, and ask him his name, and he tells me, Lamar. The End.

Until. There’s always a goddamn until in every part of my life.

Until the night I got my certificate, and I was coming out of the train station, prepared to take the last bus home, when I see the bus already at the stop.  I briefly consider waiting for the next one, recall how I once waited over a half hour for that bus, and think about how much I love standing next the homeless at MacArthur Park after the sun has gone down.  I make a run for it, jumping into the middle of the street and dodging death by impatient drivers on the way, and reach the bus before it drives away.  I knock on the door, hoping it’s not an asshole driver who won’t open it, the doors open, and low and behold.

It’s Lamar.

Sometimes I wonder.  How did I get all the luck?

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

Mr. Molasses Makes Move

Sort of.  I’m not positive that text messaging should be counted as a move due to it’s ultra-lame factor.  But being that he hasn’t been able to summon up the courage to do anything thus far, I guess it’s something. 

So we had a class together yesterday, and during the entire class I kept getting looks from him and participated in mild flirtation.  We do this pretty much every class though, so I figured it was business as usual.  Then, about an hour after class he texts me

“Someone looked really sexy today…”

Woah.  Alright.  So I texted back, “Oh really? I didn’t realize you were into Everett that way.” Everett is our gay professor.  After that I pretty much expected him to lose his will and end it but he texts back

“Haha. Don’t get me wrong.  Everett is hot… But there’s actualy someone else i’m kind of into”

Hmm.

Okay.  Thanks for finally just admitting it.  But over text message?  You might actually lose points for that.  I don’t know.  Then we proceeded to pose questions to each other like, who is it? and what about you? and blah blah blah.  Until I said I wasn’t going to have this conversation over text.

I hate when people make such a production of this kind of stuff.  Why not just ask me on a date?  I’ll get it.  This whole “I’m into you, are you into me, so we can be into each other” thing just puts so much pressure on it.  I don’t want a relationship.  I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend.  I just want hot, passionate sex whenever I ask for it. 

Is that so much to ask? 

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

I Made the Deans List!

WOOT!

I received an email this afternoon with the subject “Fall 2008 Dean’s List.”  I clicked on it, semi-interested, and it said “Congratulations to all students who were named to the USC College of Letters, Arts & Sciences Dean’s List in the  Fall 2008. “  Next, I thought, “Wow.  Is it completely necessary for them to rub it in our faces?  Jeez.”  Then, I read further where it provided details about how one can recieve a printed copy of their certificate. 

Befuddled, I click on the link for the actual list and ran search for my name and was even more confused when the search engine found it.

Now, you must understand.  I struggled to maintain a B average throughout high school.  My mom was constantly called into parent-teacher conferences because I never did homework.  Sometimes, I simply didn’t turn in tests because I just didn’t know any of the answers.  In other words, these are the best grades I have ever gotten in my entire life. 

Hellz yes.

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

What Am I Doing With My Life?

The other day I received an email about a ballet that will be performed at my school.  My interest is piqued, and I click on the email and see that it is the Trey McInytre Project that will be performing, and after reading more about it, get pretty amped to see it.  So I’m scrolling through Trey McInyntre’s website, reading about how awesome he is and all the awesome things he’s done and whose involved with this project when I realize I KNOW one of the dancers.

WHAT…

She was in my class at Ailey and looks SO good.  And after I got over the initial excitement of seeing that one of my classmates is dancing and doing big things I started to think, “Wow, what have you don’t with your life?”

Then I proceeded to make myself even better by googling other people who I used to dance with and finding photographs of them dancing their little hearts out in various companies at various performances in various years.

Well.  I’ve written some stories.  And did some semi-cool animations that I don’t technically have the rights to.

I’m so glad I’ve surrounded myself with uber-talented people.

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

The Mysterious Eyes have SPOKEN

Though I haven’t mentioned it on this blog because I took a three week hiatus, there was a set of mysterious eyes in my Native American Lit class (with the most horrible Lit teacher I’ve ever had in my entire life – that’s right, worse than high school AND grammar school), with which I’ve been exchanging sexy stares.  He’d enter the room and we’d gaze at each other for much longer than appropriate among strangers.  Or even friends and acquaintances for that matter.  Well this silent, but deadly, eye communication has been going on since the beginning of classes, and yesterday, while I was talking with a friend, I decided that if nothing happened this week, then I would lose interest.

And then what happens today after class?

WE SPEAK.

I think it goes without saying that my threat must have permeated the air and resonated through his skull because he made marvelous efforts at timing our exits from class precisely.  Then we made our way to our respective apartments, his being only about a block away from mine.   We made the trip at an amazingly slow pace, allowing time for a lengthy discussion.

I decided I like him enough to have another one.

Strangely enough, we must have met before, because he spoke as if I already knew where he lived.  See, he lives in this big hippie house where, currently, about twenty people reside.  I know, it’s ridiculous.  That kind of situation would drastically impose on my recluse status.  Nevertheless, he talked about his roommates as if I knew them, because I do, and as if I knew he lived there.  Then again, about 95% of my visits to that house were made possible with the influence of a substance.

Anyway, I learned some interesting things about him, and decided that from what I’ve learned, he’s not too far out there for me to grab onto.  Some of the people in that house make me feel antsy with their free thinking.  My mind’s got boundaries.

Hopefully Thursday will bring even better things.  Perhaps a digit exchange?

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

PS. The Virgin Mexican was super sketch and distant today.  Kind of over it.  I know, I’m fickle.

I Like the Bartender

I’m about one week from attaining my bartender’s certificate.  Oh yeah.  Booyahkahshun.

I’m about to make bank.

So far, in my lessons, I’ve learned,  Sours, Martinis and Manhattans, Two-Liquor Drinks, Exotics, and Coffees.  I’m so excited to have a job that will PAY me.  Plus it should be fun.

Hopefully I’ll remember everything.  The final is a speed test where you have to make twelve drinks in under seven minutes (though everyone I’ve watched thus far has done it in under five) and I’m not sure if I’m capable of doing that.  I have to study!

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

Boys are Idiots

I’ve been absurdly busy since the semester started and have barely had time for breathing – let alone blogging.

Nevertheless, I’ve managed to keep my complicated relationship with certain boys, or rather, I’ve managed to consistently complicate relationships with certain boys by wanting to sleep with them.

Number one on my list is The Virgin Mexican, who at first I was positive had a crush on me and was fully prepared to play with his foolish boy emotions.  Now, not so much.  He finally asked me for my number about a week ago, and used it a couple of days ago when he sent me this random-ass text that essentially said, “I don’t have a reason to call you or text you but want to so here’s something random for you to react to.”

I responded and, being impatient as usually, just invited him over for dinner.  Well, when he came, all those little signs and implications disappeared, and there was nothing remotely romantic about the visit.  In fact, when he was leaving, it felt like he did his best to stay two arm lengths away from me.  Needless to say, I was quite discouraged.  Even though at first I was only mildly interested in him, and mostly just intrigued by his boyishness, now I’m actually starting to feel real attraction to him.

This is rather unfortunate.

The moment I legitimately want to be around someone is exactly when they start to lose interest.  We were together at the lab last night and though I couldn’t say he lost interest, I can’t really confirm that there is anything there.  I feel as though I may just be in that horrible FRIEND zone.  My usual station.  But I suppose I should just let things run their course and see how this plays out within the coming weeks.  Unfortunately I can’t get him inebriated to see the wondrous glory that zeezeecakes love.  He doesn’t drink, or do drugs, or smoke, or any of the horrible things I partake in, similarly to the Mr. Molasses, who has been flirting with me now and then, more or less for over a year now.  He’s hot, he’s cold, he’s up, he’s down – and I’m bored.

But still, why do I attract such straitlaced boys who don’t want to participate in my debauchery?

Oh well, what can do.

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes