I keep getting this bizarre misdirected email from some girl who calls me "sexy baby." And she's sending this email to my ilovedarthmaul@hotmail.com address. How can you misdirect email to such a specific, weird address? Unfortunately, I deleted the first two emails, one of which was about smoking up with some boy from computer lit class. (Huh?)
So here is today's:
From : GaLaxyBouNce03@netscape.net  
To : ilovedarthmaul@hotmail.com  
Subject :  This is Larua  
Date : Thu, 30 Jan 2003 11:09:17 -0500  
Hey there sexy baby, I want to run amuck in a bright green prom dress. If we do
go on an Industrial whatever we should bring a lighter, a throw pillow, floss,
and an eraser. Anyway, I should be off, the cattle don't herd themselves you
know.
Theresa

My response:
Instead of floss, I'll bring a Water Pik.
;)
Wink wink.

I don't really get it either.

Last night I returned home from Las Vegas and I've come to one conclusion:
I belong in Sin City.
There we were, Thelma & Louise, but younger, hotter and hipper, driving down the Las Vegas Boulevard strip in a 1970 Cadillac convertible with actual Nevada plates that read: DEVILLE. The rusted, primered V8 beast was complete with an opinionated bobbing head parrot named Ernesto who chilled on the dashboard. I in my leopard print cowboy hat, Kitty in her black rainhat, we painted the town so red they literally had a heatwave while we were there. By 70-degree day we got heckled and loved, and by 55-degree night we pimped it so hard we didn't even need the Deville to pick up genuine Las Vegas hotties while casino hopping:
5 foot 3 and 3/4": "You girls have nice asses."
Kitty and Kara: "We know."
5 foot 3 and 3/4": "Meet my friend Elvis the hockey player."
Enter hottie in Elvis glasses throwing flowers.
Kitty (to Kara): "Do we go with them?"
Kara (to Kitty): "If we don't, we'll never have the story to tell."
Now what do you think we did? Thumbs up. Of course we got them tanked (party 'til you puke) and proudly did the walk of shame home in the morning. (Notice I said proudly.)
But Kitty's hard driving blew the motor on the Deville. (It was a sad day.) We were forced to drive Venus, the Saturn L200 princess, even all the way to Arizona. Dorky, yes. Sure, less of a spectacle. But the three of us (don't forget Ernesto) now had a CD player. We instantly went from Thelma & Louise to Barker's Beauties as we drove up and down the strip blasting the disco version of the theme from "The Price is Right" over and over and over again and again on repeat and over again and again:
...Bababadaa Bababadaa Bababadadada-dadada-dadada-dadadadaa...
And it only got crazier as I got drunker and started catcalling at every drunk group of boys on the strip:
"Show me your tits!"
"Hey baby, how much?"
You think I have alot of nerve? Nothing beats being stopped at a red light while a random drunk boy fondles himself in front of your car right there on the Las Vegas strip. ("I said your tits, not your dick!") OK, maybe one thing beats that:
Sitting on top of the Palms hotel at the Ghostbar, drinking a Cosmo, talking VWs with Kitty, gazing out at the brightest twinkling lights ever... the Rio, the Luxor, the Aladdin, the Mirage, the Stratosphere, Treasure Island... Vegas just feels so right.
Give me more cigarettes. Give me more vodka. Give me more boys. Give me more goddamn Price is Right.
Give me Vegas, baby, Vegas.

I was floored when I read today's horoscope:
Tuesday, January 21, 2003
This is potentially one of the best days of the year, a day when you can do no wrong, a day when anything is possible, a day when everything goes right, no matter what you do wrong. It won't last, of course, but while it does you must make the most of it. So ask yourself: What would you do if you knew you could not fail?

So, what might I do today, the best of all days?
Why, I talk to Uncle Joey, that's what I do!

That's right, today at approximately 12:30 p.m., I, copy editor Kara, play the ace reporter role, and engage in my very first C-list celebrity interview with Dave Coulier of "Full House" fame. I spoke to him about "My Life is a Sitcom," the new reality show on ABC Family. (I spent last evening with the stars of the premiere episode — the Mozian family from Old Greenwich. They were sweet and inviting and hysterically funny. Go to www.joemozian.com — you will laugh.)
So I controlled myself and tried not to gush at Uncle Joey. It was very hard not to reveal the dirty little secret that I have always had a big crush on him. Nevermind cheesy fake rock-star Uncle Jesse (John Stamos). Uncle Joey is where it's at! I also did not tell him that as a preteen I used to sit home and tape every episode of "Full House" on Friday nights. Do you think maybe he'll do "Star Dates" on E!? As Kitty would say, I'd hit it.
Oh, swoon.
I'm going home and watching "Full House."

(The funny part is that you don't know if I'm really joking or not, do you?)

OK, so what's funny is that my last post was merely six days ago, and in a matter of six days I have gone through the following (in order):
blissful puppy love,
rockin' physical attraction,
nagging boredom
and finally, heartache.
Note: NOT heartbreak, just heartache. I think. Can one's heart be broken in just a week and a half? That doesn't count, right?
Well, at least I can move on with resolution #4. (Seduce as many people as possible.)

As if by magic, it seems my life always takes a nosedive right before I'm about to leave on vacation. I should have known disaster would strike! It's time to run screaming out of Connecticut again. Ah, but forget drowning my sorrows in the Danube or dancing my problems away in the Domincan Republic. In one week I'll be crusing the Sin City strip in a 1974 Cadilliac El Dorado convertible with the coolest Kitty ever.
Prepare for mayhem.

"...When shown a picture of their romantic partner, their brain activity pattern was markedly different from when they looked at a picture of a close friend, reported neurobiologists Andreas Bartels and Semir Zeki of University College London. The pictures showed that the experience of romantic attraction activated those pockets of the brain with a high concentration of receptors for dopamine, the chemical messenger closely tied to states of euphoria, craving and addiction. Biologists have linked high levels of dopamine and a related agent, norepinephrine, to heightened attention and short-term memory, hyperactivity, sleeplessness and goal-oriented behavior. When they're first captivated, Helen Fisher, an anthropologist at Rutgers University in New Jersey, argues, couples often show the signs of surging dopamine: increased energy, less need for sleep or food, focused attention and exquisite delight in smallest details of this novel relationship.
"Bartels and Zeki compared their MRI images to brain scans taken from people in different emotional states, including sexual arousal, feelings of happiness and cocaine-induced euphoria. The pattern for romantic love was unique. But there was some overlap with and close proximity to other positive states..."
— Benedict Carey, Los Angeles Times, 2002

I can sum it up in one word: Bliss.

New Year's Resolutions 2003
1. Take a bubble bath once a week. (Yes, in addition to daily showers.)
2. Be more financially organized.
3. Date only single people.
4. Seduce as many people as possible. (re: http://users.rcn.com/leviadams/quiz.htm) Must remember resolution #4 while doing so.
5. Be more courageous.