Moving is so expensive. I just got my first phone for my new place, and it's like close to $300. My phone company charges you and arm and a leg for installing new jacks, and that new dsl modem wasn't cheap either.

Thankfully my boss said my company will pick up the charges for the dsl modem, the monthly dsl charge and all the set up charges. But still. Getting a $300 phone bill is shocking. My next two phone bills will be large as well, since the phone company said I could spread the charges out over three months.

I set my microsoft explorer security to high so I could receive links that people send me, and all of a sudden I couldn't do anything on blogger. That was so scary!

Once I set my security back to where it was before, all the blogger stuff started working again.

So I'm torturing myself and thinking of the cute guy (marina hottie boy) in my screenwriting class I had a crush on last year. It all started because I turned on the TV and started watching some Ken Burn's documentary on jazz. The cutie from screenwriting was a big time jazz freak. He said he only listened to jazz in his car and on the radio. I even surprised him when we were all at a party together, and I put on a Charlier Parker record. I only put it on because I hadn't seen a Charlie Parker record in ages, and it reminded me of college.

Marina hottie boy was so shocked I even knew who Charlie Parker was. I guess I must not look like the type who listens to jazz. I think he thought I only liked bands lik Guns n Roses, a band that I of course totally love, because the song made me smile and he saw me smiling when we were all walking to a bar one night. Whatever.

I'm going to check out the North Beach festival on Saturday, and I'm like wondering if I'll run into him because he lives in the area. Like I really want to run into him, because the last time I saw him at a screenwriting reading he was holding hands with some woman with like Anna Nicole Smith type boobs. How embarrassing, that I was actually interested in a guy who would hold hands with a woman with huge cow udders. I'm so mean, huh!

I love that cow udder phrase. My first love in college used to call girls with massive chests - chicks with cow udders, and I still really love that phrase. I don't know. Cow udders is so perfect, although I like my own made up phrase, plastique rack. You know, because like plastique is an explosive, and a woman with a huge rack probably have fake ones, an fake ones can explode and give you cancer, so they're like "plastique".

plastique n: an explosive material that is easily molded around the object it is intended to destroy [syn: plastic explosive]; French: plastic [adjective-adverb]

Anyway, I'd love to run into him because the man is absolutely drop dead beautiful, but at the same time, it's like I don't know why I even want to torture myself that way.

The man is like so out of my league, and even if I could date him, I wouldn't because he's a baby and so immature. I mean, the guy played college football and he's got that whole jock thing going which means he's fun to hang with but not fun to be with in any kind of dating situation.

But, boy is he pretty, and I'm a sucker for a man with pretty blue eyes. But he's like an aetheist, he's a krishna boy and not a JC boy, which means he can never anything but a very short term experience for me. Who wants to listen to a rant against god and organized religion for the rest of your life? Life is stressful enough without having that kind of religious stress at home.

But I'm bad, because if I do run into him and he's not with the giant cow udder woman, and I get my chance to have him, I would definitely take it. I'm so bad!

In honor of Gregory Peck's death, I'm going to reread "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee.