and i am, what i am, and i am, a trainwreck.

I think I've said this before, but a combination of being stoned and drunk is probably the most pain-numbing, relaxing feeling one could ever ask for - without being in a total comatose state and still being able to enjoy oneself. They key is to pace out the drinking and stoning - so that you get to yourself to where you're comfortable and happy, without going insane and throwing shit or wanting to puke on yourself. That's no fun. Do it right - relax and enjoy yourself. uh-huh.

Tonight at Nate's I decided tonight was one of the few nights that I leave my house and do one (much less both) things. Nate's house is a play pen... With all the toys, building blocks, coloring books and anything else a big kid could ask for. It also comes with fog machines, strobe lights, good music and fun people. The only thing that it is missing is a stripper pole and I would be really super stoked if he got one. I'm hoping Nate will read this, get inspired and go out and buy one. I'll practice until I can give Felix Cane a run for her money.

Somewhere mid-stone and off in lala thinking land, I realized that I try to think of too much stuff at once when I'm stoned. The problem is that if I'm drinking, I'm unable to process it deeply enough, especially long enough to write it down. That gets on my nerves. I like writing about everything I'm thinking about. The problem is if I get stoned without alcohol I can't let loose and enjoy myself. I put on the thinking cap until it's melted into my brain and I'm in over analyzing morbid Hell and I can't just enjoy my thoughts. I need to find a happy balance between the two. However, I did manage to text my mom of all people about some Cuban food-inspired ideas for new dishes. At least I have some ideas from tonight to work off of. Otherwise, all my deep thoughts I had tonight have been thrown out the window. Writing this blog with my headphones on and blasting 3oh!3 doesn't help, either. Whatever.

In other news, I made fucking delicious drunken clams for dinner and homemade kalamata olive bread rolls. This means that shin splints or not, I'm running tomorrow... mainly because I followed everything with some ice cream. it's true. deep down, i am a really fat person.

Cycles.

I guess now that I'm bound to my bed I should update until I am healed. I think at the slow rate I'm healing at, I might be out of commission for a number of weeks. Now that I had accustomed myself to an active lifestyle, I get restless laying around with ice on my legs all day. I find myself getting anxious sitting around. I even did 100 something crunches tonight to expel some energy. I think I did them wrong and will somehow make myself fatter, but doing so got rid of some extra energy for a short amount of time. I later found myself playing with coconut cream and other miscellaneous items I found in the cupboard. As it turns out, there's a lot I can do with coconut cream. All I need is an ice cream maker and I will retire myself from running. That way I can be fat and happy.

I stole some of my dad's darvocets and have been cutting them in quarters, taking a quarter of a pill every 4-5 hours. It works relatively well without making me miserable and sick like taking a whole pill would. I should probably to go the doctor and get my own, but that would take effort. Stealing the same pills she would give me means I save time and money. I prefer the effortless and free approach to drug use. I figure if you have to spend money on drugs, then either you're not a good enough druggie or you're really terrible looking. Smart druggies and good looking druggies should either be clever at stealing them or have ugly people wanting to give them to you.

Since I'm not really awesome looking I steal from my dad. It makes me feel like I'm 15 years old and obviously I'm lazy. The good news is that I only have a slight tingling feeling in my shins/knees versus pain that makes me want to cut limbs off. Somehow I feel like cutting off my limbs all together will release the pressure in my legs and that the rushing of blood all over my bed and floor will somehow make things better. Clearly, I am very morbid.

Last night I was up until almost 4 in the morning and I'm using more ice than my ice maker can make and attempted to sleep while being wrapped in ice. Aleve or whatever the Hell I took did absolutely nothing. If anything, it just made me angrier than I was before.

So, basically all I'm trying to say is that if you were me, you would adopt a drug addiction, too.

baby, you're so unusual.

I need new knees. Normally I'm not such a baby about pain because I happen to like some pain, but knee pain is something I do not like, I cannot deal with, and now simple over the counter medications do not seem to fix any discomfort I may have. Look, I'm not even at quarter life yet and my knees feel like they're old, rusty and approaching 80. I wish I could be like everyone else and smoke a joint and suddenly all my pain is gone. No, I have to the the only freak in the world that has to over analyze why I feel the way I do, then my knee pain hurts MORE. Then I sit there and grab my knees and rock myself to sleep. It's so much more fun to be stoned when nothing hurts, then I can sit there and fall into my mind of food and think of delicious things.

Look, I am getting muscular and in shape. I'm almost at the point where I'm in the best shape I've been in the last few years. Not the skinniest, but definitely in the best shape. I'm sick of crash dieting and looking like a crack whore. If I'm going to look like one, I might as well start doing crack and whoring around.

I've been nothing but energy lately and I'm constantly wanting to be OUTSIDE and doing something. It makes sitting at desk 3 days a week for 7 hours a day agonizing. It's torture, really. Truly. Seriously. Who really enjoys sitting all day anyway? Fat people? The point is that I cannot continue this path to awesomeness with hurting knees. I will cut them off and replace them with robot knees if i have to. If not, I will develop a serious drug habit like Dr. House. Just fair warning.

I need a jogging partner.

Blargh. It's almost May and I'm over the cold. Completely over the cold. If I wanted cold, I'd go back to Switzerland and at least have beautiful, cotton-like snow to play in as my company. What happened to the heat wave we had? Was that some sort of a sick joke? I feel like I know what blue balls feels like. It felt like that heat came and went and I'm reminded of the time when this kid had an American Pie moment and I really don't want to go there but it was a let down. I am let down, frustrated and craving more heat. For fuck's sake, I'm Cuban. I want tropical heat. Give me hot, muggy, mosquito-filled, clothes-sticking weather. I'll also take some coconut trees, banana trees, warm sand and waveless water. Combine that with a joint and a bottle of dark rum and I'll be in heaven.

Working out in the cold sucks. The reason why is because EVERYONE ONE IN THE GOD DAMN UNIVERSE FINDS IT FUNNY TO SLAP MY ASS. Well, the issue with slapping my ass
"because it's just RIGHT THERE" in my god damn spandex work out pants is because it fucking hurts. Believe it or not, that big pile of fat you would like to call your pillow actually has some nerves in it that FEEL PAIN. It feels like I'm being stabbed with millions of icicles and it makes me want to stab everything and everyone around me within a 500 yard radius.

As my final warning to everyone that reads this, if you come near my ass when it's less than 75 degrees out I will cut off your arms, rub them in salt and lemon, sew them back on slowly with a rusty needle and then nail you to a cross.

Sometimes people just want to be left alone to their own devices.

I have been pretty unbelievably boring as of lately. I literally have absolutely nothing to blog about. The only thing new in my life that I've discovered is Twitter and within a few day's time I've already created enemies. Apparently stupid shit I post annoys people that don't even know me. I guess that's satisfying.

My only semi-accomplishment in the past few days is when I gave a piece of advice that worked. Today I told her my method to solving it was looking for "a solution that works with minimal effort."

Aside from that, I've done nothing spectacular and have no photo-worthy hikes. I did a quick hike in Oak Park which was essentially me crawling hand and knee straight up a 90 degree mountain followed by my legs melting off.

Maybe tomorrow I'll do something blog worthy. I wish the weather was a bit warmer so I could go sailing and not freeze on the water. I'll probably end up going hiking or running. You'd think by now that I'd weigh nearly nothing, but I'm still a fat ass. I should probably get a cocaine habit if by July I'm not thin again.

Solstice Canyon.

Today Katie, Dom and I went on Malibu's famous Solstice Canyon "hike." It's not really a hike, its more like a nature walk since there's no up-hill, down-hill, bouldering, unkempt trails or areas that make you question why you're there in the first place. It's a paved road, followed by a long dirt path that at one point I could have easily mistaken for the tarmac at LAX.

There was a girl there that must have been "at one with nature" because she literally walked up with her tiny toy poodle behind us, stripped herself of her clothing minus a bikini that looked painted on and went for a swim under the waterfall... Which this time of year isn't much of a waterfall and the water below it is very slow moving and in some parts totally stagnant. The water was filled with mosquitoes, those other bugs that just hang out on to of the water that look super creepy, a million tadpoles and frogs. lots and lots of frogs. I guess if she doesn't mind the possibility of a tadpole swimming up her vagina, then good for her. She was just weird and I don't know how to better explain that SHE WAS WEIRD.

Aside from the creepy hippie chick, the walk is really beautiful. At the end of the trail there's a 30 foot water fall which is pretty. It's on the property of the "Roberts," which was built in 1950 something and burned down in 1982. Among the house ruins are like 12381029831092830912830982038 fireplaces which are still standing. It must have been a really awesome house at one point in time. The walk way to the waterfall and the little chapel or whatever it was pre-fire is really neat. It's like a little hidden gem in the Malibu hills.

Madness.

Last time I blogged I said that my blogs suck now because I'm too tired to write anything worth while. The same still applies. It's amazing how getting off my fat fucking ass can change my semi-decent blog postings so radically. Instead of the normal ranting, raving, bitching, complaining and whatever else I normally do, you are all reading what's somewhat like a work out blog without the work out details.

Katie and I are still doing it. We're still eating healthy (or at least somewhat healthy) and spending numerous amounts of hours a day being active. The goal is to be able run around in the nude in San Sebastian or Nice this summer... Since we're pretty much spending a month running around between Spain and France. So, let's see how awesomely sexy I look by August. Which probably means I won't look awesome or sexy (I don't think I can anyway?) but whatever.


Aside from my normal bullshit, one of my bestfriends leaves for Prague tomorrow and I'm insanely jealous. The great thing about him leaving for Prague is that he decided to go with my Boo Boo today to go buy some insanely expensive camera which has like 928391827391873 megapixels or some nonsense... Which means that when he comes to Europe with us for the month of August, I can count on him and Dom taking really rad pictures and I won't need to bring a camera.

Other than that... My life is not exciting. Oh - and as soon as I get to my goal weight I'm starving myself for 48 hours so I can nose dive into a stack of blueberry pancakes. That's a great way to celebrate, right?

Ladyface.

I finally hiked Ladyface. I even found the geocache and signed my name. For that awesome accomplishment, I treated myself to a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie from Bristol Farms.

Also, I know my blogs have been lacking in substance lately. It's because I've been too damn active and everything hurts. It makes it difficult to think and type when my limbs feel like they're going to fall off. I guess I'll have to smoke a joint or eat a space cake sometime this week and write something of value.

Jello Legs.

So in an effort to be in good shape again, Katie and I have been dieting and working out. Today we asked Dom to take us on a hike since he's Mr. Super Athlete. He said to me, "What kind of hike do you want to go on?" So I replied, "One that will kick my ass." I never thought for a minute, not for a nanosecond that he would take me bouldering over a stream that I never knew existed. The hike reminded me of the Bear Joke my Dad used to tell everyone. Now that I am an old sack of shit, I now realized that it probably wasn't the most appropriate joke to tell me when I was a kid (not that he told ME, but he'd tell his buddies when I was around). Anyway. There's a line in the joke that goes, "Through the meadow, through the trees, over the mountain, across the river, over the rocks." That was me today. Minus I went over the rock on the steam rather than in it. Katie and I complained a lot about our aches and pains, but we had fun. I manage to use my upper body strength and climb up a chain that someone placed for other hikes to use to go up a portion of a rock wall. I also managed to not slip in water, however, there was a mighty big drop from one boulder to another and I scraped up the side of my right calf. I avoided a lot of poison oak, I didn't get bit by fireants although they were everywhere, I did not get eaten by a mountain lion (which Katie was very scared of) and overall I am extremely proud of myself that I didn't need to call 9-1-1 because I broke something in the middle of a rock canyon.

Tomorrow I plan on taking it easy and sitting out in the marina on the boat for some night fishing. I better catch a halibut now that I've done some extensive research on catching the fuckers.