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So it took me 90 minutes to bike into work today, but I think I can shave off some time tomorrow by not going 6.2 miles out of my way.*

First I forgot my cell phone. That cost me about a mile, but the real problem was when I forgot that Arastradero doesn’t start until after you cross El Camino, and failed to turn left on Charleston. Because I had written down directions for myself off the Gmaps Pedometer route I plotted over a map of bike lanes in the area, I was TOTALLY SURE that I was not supposed to turn left on Charleston, despite the niggling doubt in my mind as I sped through intersection after intersection with no sign of Arastradero. This is the peril of documents,** even ones that we ought to know are not exactly 100% reliable given that we created them yesterday and are notoriously bad at navigation in general. They just seem so authoritative. Oops.

So I didn’t lift any weights when I got in as I’d originally planned; just showered and changed and came upstairs to my office. At least I know how to get from home to work now, and am in good enough shape that I can handle a 6.2 mile detour.

As you may have gathered, I am safely in California–mostly moved in, even, largely thanks to the tireless efforts of my friends Greg and Stevie, who let me ship my many, many belongings to their apartment, helped me get my luggage and packages from my motel to my summer lodgings, and even took me in to the bike shop to get my bike reassembled this weekend. The house where I’m renting a room is pretty nice, and has pretty much everything I could ask for in the kitchen; I’ve already been baking up a storm. I’m hoping to finish organizing all my crap this week, so that my room doesn’t look so much like a dozen boxes of clothing, jewelry, and office supplies exploded in there. And I’m also planning to actually update again; I know everyone will be so pleased.

AMAZING CALIFORNIA DISCOVERY: There is a box karaoke place in Cupertino*** that has Belinda Carlisle’s “Summer Rain”**** in their catalog. This is like the holy fucking grail of karaoke for me; now I just need to find “Season of the Witch” and “When U Were Mine.”

And Stevie even took the best karaoke photo ever, as a bonus.

BEDSPREAD UPDATE: So Stevie took me to Target to pick up all the random stuff I still needed despite having shipped a dozen boxes of my crap to California, and I got a new bedspread to replace the one that, you may recall, I jettisoned in Boston because I hated it. At first I wasn’t seeing anything that really appealed to me in Target Housewares, but then I realized it was probably because I was looking in the adult bedding section. In the children’s section I found a comforter in PINK CAMOUFLAGE. Naturally I pounced on it. Now no one can sneak up on me when I’m sleeping! It is, after all, when I am at my most vulnerable.

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR COMMENTERS: If at any time you ever posted a comment here and it never showed up, it’s because it got lost in comment spam. I had like 10,000 of the freaking things and just mass deleted them all, so I’m sorry if I accidentally trashed any legitimate comments along with the rest. I’ve just enabled a special spam-busting plugin that will hopefully solve this problem, though.

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*Yes, that pretty much doubled the length of the ride.

****No one ever knows this song. Belinda Carlisle is probably best known for “Heaven is a Place on Earth” and possibly “Circle in the Sand”; at least these are the two songs you can expect to find at every karaoke joint. They NEVER have “Summer Rain,” except in Cupertino. Lyrics here.

So I have a big nasty rash. It’s a much more intense version of a rash that I had mainly on the back of my neck a couple of days ago, now spread out across my upper back, chest, and arms. After some consideration, I realized that the rash probably corresponded to more frequent and longer term use of the Banana Boat Kids SPF 50 sunscreen I keep in my apartment–while I used it for awhile with no rash, I was typically going to the gym early-ish in the day, showering it off, and replacing it with Banana Boat Sport SPF 50* from my locker afterwards.

The two lines have significantly different ingredients, so it seemed pretty likely that there is something in the supposedly hypoallergenic children’s preparation to which I am violently allergic.

At first, Google was not terribly enlightening on this subject. It confirms that sunscreens may contain any number of different chemicals and pretty much all of them cause allergic reactions in somebody. I figured that. And I definitely have a rash.

But then something else dawned on me. Most of the sources I found emphasized that sunscreen allergies are only very rarely immediate contact allergies; rather, the allergic reaction is actually triggered by the interaction between the chemical and the UV rays from which it is supposed to be protecting the person wearing it. So you only get a rash after the sun shines on, say, the back of your neck which has been covered in Banana Boat Kids SPF 50.

Well, last night I spent about three hours in a karaoke room with various bits of interesting lighting. I didn’t actually see a blacklight, but I’ve noticed them in other rooms there that I’ve sung in, and it is the case that afterwards, a rash that was only slightly bothering me during the day (after about 45 minutes walking in the sun) had transformed itself into a monstrous itchy affliction. I suspect that whatever that karaoke lighting was, it interacted with a chemical to which I have a photoallergy in much the same way that prolonged bright sunlight would.

I would add this to my long-standing list of outside-the-box methods for vampire slaying,** but even with four Benadryl in me and a hefty topical dose of hydrocortisone cream, I am still a little too uncomfortable to be amused.

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*If you wear SPF 50, as I must, you are pretty much limited to Sport and Child lines.

**A Russian Orthodox incense burner on one of those poles that you swing around is another favorite. It’d be like a mace, except a special HOLY INCENSE UNDEAD SLAYING mace.

Conferences are really the academic equivalent of summer camp, with the sudden fast friendships and too many scheduled activities, except that sometimes there’s free booze and after an hour of that–during which you have perhaps been availing of yourself of the open bar like someone who knows it is only open for an hour–you can convince people to go to Allston for karaoke.

For the second time, I was the only person in the room (not including people who are related to me) who had EVER HEARD “Goodbye Earl.” I guess the Dixie Chicks really aren’t big on the East Coast. Or Australia.

Elizabeth took pictures, which she says are no good because the flash destroys the blacklight effect, but dude, I just want to see the hilarious karaoke faces. She will also find that there’s at least one self-shot close-up of my adorable pink head in there somewhere,* but I probably have enough of those already.

Martyn** insisted the entire way there that he was not going to sing any karaoke, but would suffer through the rest of us making fools of ourselves. Within an hour he was standing up singing “Closer” with me,*** although neither of us believe it actually ends like that.****

And Nathan sang “Fuck and Run” with me,***** for which I was very grateful, because as I KNEW from singing it at WisCon karaoke last year, it’s actually too low for me. Having a guy sing along, I can sort of pretend I’m, um, harmonizing?

And I finally got Laura (who lives here) to karaoke! We opened the night together with a rousing rendition of “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” without which, frankly, no karaoke session is truly complete.****** It was totally awesome and no one spilled anything on my phone. A fantastic karaoke evening.

Not that this means I’m not going to try to do another one before I leave town, don’t you worry. There is no such thing as too much karaoke. Some time before the 18th, we are hitting Do Re Mi again.

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*This tends to happen with me after happy hours and similar events. At least I don’t take off my clothes anymore.

******I’m sorry, Aaron, but it’s true.

Okay, so once again I have failed to post. In my defense, my sister Sophie is visiting, and also I’ve been very upset about my phone, which got a drink spilled on it at karaoke on Thursday and promptly died. Actually, it died in the most frustrating way possible, where the screen and HALF of the buttons still worked, but not the menu buttons or the call button or half the number pad.

Fortunately, the guy at the Verizon store where I took it in today and sheepishly explained that it had been drowned in alcohol totally ignored the large sign in the tech support area that says that the warranty does not cover damage caused by liquid corrosion and issued me a free replacement.* Then I called customer service and got them to swear that they’d credit my account the cost of redownloading ringtones and games, since they don’t transfer them between handsets.

Of course, the original plan was that I was going to wait until the Verizon website came back up from maintenance tonight, back up my contacts list, and then submerge the lower half of the phone in rubbing alcohol in the hopes that it might dissolve said corrosion. I was pretty sure I’d have to pay full retail price to replace the handset, after all, and we’re talking minimum $50 for a Razr. After 36 hours without a phone, however, I was willing to give them Sophie if that’s what it took to get a replacement.** We’re talking Shining-level crazy without my phone.

But at any rate, all’s well that ends well; the guy at the Verizon store gave me a free replacement and I redownloaded “Heartbreak Beat” (my default ringtone) and Tetris (a necessity when I am waiting for the T). I seem to have snapped off a small piece of my pink zebra strip snapcase (in the initial frenzy to try to save my phone from the drink spill), but I can get a new one of those and in the meantime it still stays on.

Also, karaoke was awesome. There definitely needs to be another one before I leave Boston, although I don’t know how many people here have the karaoke passion that Sophie does. Sadly, they did not have “When You Were Mine,” but Aaron and I sang “Don’t You Want Me” instead:***

Yeah, it was pretty much totally awesome. Box karaoke rocks.

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*Possibly he thought I was cute, or at the very least pathetic. I made an effort to keep my eyes very sad and wide while explaining what happened.

***OF COURSE he sang the girl part.

Or maybe I’ve just been busy/lazy/immersed in my love affair with my new desktop.* My mother was visiting last week, so I was pretty occupied with her. We went to the aquarium, as you can see:

It was hanging from the ceiling. As it happened, there were a lot of blacklights in this area; consequently, I think my hair drew as much attention as the whale skeleton while I was standing there.

These crabs were incredibly freaky. You can’t tell from this angle, but we saw one flip over and it looked exactly like one of the aliens from The Puppetmasters. I can’t believe my mother touched one.

Cuttlefish are also freaky, but with less implied threat of mind control.

Mom liked the giant model jellyfish. This was not the one that had “vagina” in its scientific name.

Isn’t this a great photo? It could totally be a postcard or a screensaver or something.

It was pretty much impossible to get non-artsy photos at the top of the aquarium.

Mom bought me a stuffed jellyfish from the gift shop, which is pretty awesome. I hung it on the wall in the living room–it really adds a touch of that certain something. I guess it really belongs in the bedroom with all the mermaids,** but there are no convenient wall hooks in there.

My sister is coming from Minnesota tomorrow; I’ve arranged a karaoke outing in her honor. I need to make a run to the grocery store this afternoon for supplies. I think I will bake scones. Everyone likes scones, right?

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*I’m just wiping the last stuff off the old one, which I will be shipping to my good friend Jenn from high school so that at last we can play City of Heroes together.+

++I’m not kidding. Right now, I favor this one, but something’s not QUITE right.

Still in Madison. Still no reliable internet at home. Still no subleaser for apartment. God.

However, am having fun times with people in Madison. There was sociology karaoke on Thursday night, which was sadly a bit sparsely attended, but we made up for it with strong performances:

Me & Greg singing “Don’t You Want Me,” with Greg performing the female part. The crowd of frat boys who came in just as we were starting found this extremely shocking.

Jess & Carey rocking out like crazy.

Me & Carey singing our signature duet of “Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves.” (I know it’s grainy, but it’s the only one I’ve got.)

Carey & Ang, Carey looking supplicating.

Me & Shamus at the bar.

Shane (being self-cropping), me, and Anna being goofy behind us, shortly after she bought me that next drink I wasn’t sure I needed. It was a gateway drink, as it turned out.

I love this photo because it looks like Keely is staring at my boob, and is possibly about to crawl into my coat, and she is totally unable to produce a convincing explanation of what else might have been going on there.

Ang and her old friend Andy. He was a super good time, and I’m not just saying that because he smacked my ass.

Me rocking out for serious.

One more of “Don’t You Want Me.” I can put Greg back down, too. I couldn’t do anything to fix the redeye.

I’ve never understood people who got depressed about their own birthdays. Birthdays are great. For one thing, you get loot, and people pay attention to you–I have always enjoyed having people pay attention to me–and “Getting Old” was never a particular concern of mine, probably because I was so used to being two years younger than everyone in my immediate social reference group and mostly I just wanted to be of legal drinking age already, dammit.

That said, I am turning 25 on Monday and I’m depressed about it.

I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’m Getting Old, exactly, but there are definitely aspects of my life that are Not Going As Planned. 24 was a very up-and-down year. Also it turns out I can’t have a “Probably Not Schizophrenic” party because women are typically diagnosed later than men.

And I have to move two weeks after my birthday, and I don’t know where I’m going to live in Boston, and I haven’t been able to find someone to take over my Madison lease yet, and I worry about money and logistics and my cats. I hate not knowing what’s going to HAPPEN.

I don’t even like the number 25. I dislike even-numbered ages, but I think being divisible by 5 is just as bad.* 27 will be a good age, and then at 28 I can have the “Older Than a Rock Star” party. 29 is prime; I like that in an age. I’m hoping my 30s will just be light on emotional turmoil, for the love of god.

At least there is going to be karaoke. Also Indian food. These things are good. I am going to get ripped and sing a lot of songs–I have a list, in fact, gleaned from the King of Clubs’s full karaoke catalog, which was available as a PDF on their website until said website started having issues. Bolded songs are those I have sung before; those marked with a star are songs I would particularly like to sing:

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So apparently Phoenix Skyharbor Airport is the only airport in the world with free wireless. If I have to make a connection on my flight back to Missouri next month, I am definitely going through Phoenix.*

LAX has two different wireless providers who will happily sell you a daypass to access their networks, but even $8 seems like a bit much when my flight will should be boarding in less than half an hour. But that does at least give me some time to write an entry that is mainly going to be explanatory text for a lot of photos, just so you know. Another note, in light of Carly’s recent discussion of the comparative lack of comments on long posts: it is perfectly acceptable to leave a one sentence comment about how adorable I am in a single photo! Yes! No need to feel like you need to respond to them all! Just so you know.

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Purchased on State Street this afternoon: one strappy, sheer leopard print top. With glitter.

If only it was hot pink, it would be perfect. But it’s still pretty good.

Greg and I keep bemoaning the recent lack of departmental karaoke, and then failing to email people about it. I WOULD email people about it, right now, except that I am on my laptop and have no one’s email addresses on it. Dammit.

But you can bet that the next time you see me singing karaoke, I will be wearing a strappy, sheer, glittery leopard print top. Yowza.

Courtesy of Teddy (thanks, Teddy!):

Me showing off the fact that my zippers do, in fact, unzip. Despite appearances, I was not actually very drunk when this photo was taken.

Me leaning in for an extreme close-up.

Me rocking out, probably to “I Touch Myself.”

Me rocking out, definitely to “I Touch Myself;” you can tell because I’m unzipped. Members of the crowd were egging me on, okay?

The coat in the latter two photos is my Okinawa Rock Star Coat. I used to wear it out to karaoke in Tokyo all the time; Mika, one of the other exchange students, said to me the first time she saw it: “That coat really… suits you.” (The first time Jude saw it, he asked if I’d beaten up a pimp and stolen his clothes.)

There is actually a very short but hilarious video clip from “I Touch Myself,” but it’s sideways and I don’t know how to fix it–I used up my technical know-how removing the hellacious red eye from the first photo.