My mom called to tell me she was seeing Sex and the City later in the week. Even though she thinks it will be horrible. Shit like that makes me love my mom.

This neighborhood’s different. It’s like gentrification. Dunno how comfortable I feel in her with all this khaki.

My back started tweaking when Jeremy and I were having post-Zohan beers and burger, but I went out last night anyway. Simply the worst spinnings I’ve heard in a very long time. Thursdays at The Short Stop, they often go latin, which only works if the floor is crowded – otherwise people get intimidated and no one dances. But this guy was playing junk all night. He started off with at least a half hour of Reggae, and then was playing stuff like “Waiting for My Man” which I like, but it isn’t much of anything for the floor. and it went from there. I ended up talking to someone I know who works as an animator, and away from the floor. I left around one-ish, which is silly. So sad.