Friday, May 30, 2008

Stupid Being a Stupid Adult

Tonight Liz and I were due to eat of the pizza and drink of the wine. Unfortunately as we are adults our jobs got in the way. I was able to escape a mere half hour ago, but poor Liz is still in her office with no end in sight.

Why do our jobs try to kill us and then fly us to exotic locales like Minneapolis? I do not enjoy this being a grown up thing and think instead I should be an heiress. That is a much, much better career path. I am going to spend the rest of the evening trying to figure out how to become one. Perhaps the Heiress of Oreos? Or better yet, Heiress of Wine. I think this sounds like an excellent plan. And 100% logical and doable. Don't deny.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Sweet Mystery of Life, At Last I Found Thee

At my core I am like Martha Stewart... but with more rage and less prison time. Ergo, when I found the following item I knew I had to own it.

That, my dears, is the cupcake courier. Mine is petal pink because I am a girl and am genetically programmed to need to own things in that hue. This purchase means that I can make baked goods and transport them about the city all willy nilly. This is very convenient as of late as when I am upset I bake. This means I have taken my cupcake courier to work and shown it proudly around the office. Being as my co-workers don't really know me yet they are confused by my giant plastic box full of baked goods. In fact upon seeing this one dude said 'Um, I like your'

Me too, random dude, me too. This cupcake house brings me one step closer to spinster-hood. All that's next is I need to decorate it with puff paints in the shape of cats. What? At least I have plans for the weekend.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008


Today I woke up in a great mood. My cat was curled into my shoulder and it was bright and sunny. I stretched, content with life, and then my feet hit the ground. That's when I was inexplicably filled with rage. I was, if you will, rage-tastic. For no reason other than 'this is a day and I am forced to deal with it when I would much rather be watching bad movies in the dark'.

I thought this wonderful feeling would pass when I got to work. I was wrong. The day truly started when I walked into the break room. I overheard someone talking about the Phoenix Suns and how they sucked. I then yelled, and I mean YELLED, 'HEY!!! I'm from Phoenix!' and then I stormed out. I yelled so loudly that my coworkers actually jumped. Confused, I sat down at my desk and tried to figure this out. I was mostly confused as I have never in my life defended Arizona (pretty much the exact opposite), nor have I really ever had any affinity for the state basketball team.

It was then that I decided to take the crazy to the internet and ranted via email with a friend. He found my anger amusing and laughed until I showed him my horoscope. It said, and I am paraphrasing here, 'Bitch, you crazy, stay away from people'. He agreed and now fully believes in astrology. So, now I fully blame the planets for current state. In fact during my drive home when I was yelling at little old women and children, I would catch myself, shrug apologetically and mouth 'it's the planets'. Therefore I wasn't just the angry girl, I was the crazy angry girl. Which I think is much better.

I was going to go to the gym to work off The Rage, but decided I may hurt someone so I instead stayed home and ate of the chocolate and watched of the reality dance competition. And this? Made everything ok. I also think I deserve a medal of some sort for not taking my lunch time spork and hurting people with it. Because a lot of them deserved it. In fact one of them even made clucking sounds when he walked and I didn't hurt him at all. (Yeah. He did. He clucked in time with every step and yet? I let him live, sorry world). That's medal worthy. In fact, that's medal made of cake worthy.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Vacation Hang Over

Today I had problems forming coherent thoughts and functioning as a human being. At work I mostly just stared at people when they asked me questions that I should know the answer to. Instead of answering however, I mumbled something about Tila Tequila and went back to looking at the walls. This was probably due to the fact that my brain had essentially been soaked in alcohol like a Maraschino cherry all weekend and then hung out to dry, but it was also due to the patented Vacation Hang Over.

As much as I love my apartment and my life here, I miss my life in New York more. Growing up I dreamed about living in New York and while I got to live that life for 8 years, it didn't turn out how I wanted it to. I miss being in the center of the world, afternoons in Central Park and walking without destination. Maybe the grass is greener, but I was so happy there, I can't help but want to go back. This vacation was just so perfect, so much fun, that it made my craving for New York a million times worse than it has been since the day I left.

Maybe it's all just wanting things to be better, somehow. I know I can't go back to the exact life I left behind. And in running back there I would be running away from the pain and hurt here, at least temporarily. But, it would find me, whether I am here on my couch, alone with a cat on my head, or in New York walking down the street. So, here I stay for the time being with the knowledge that I want to one day, somehow, end up back there. Until then I am going to try and figure things out and also remove the cat from sitting on me 24 hours a day, as well, it's uncomfortable.

And now it's 8PM and my worn out ass needs to head to bed early again.

Monday, May 26, 2008

No Sleep Till Brooklyn

I have arrived safely home from my whirlwind trip to New York. Upon being picked up from the airport I'm sure Liz immediately wanted to check me into some kind of rehab or sleep institute as I could not have possibly look more cracked out. In the 3 days I was there I slept a total of maybe, high end estimate, 8 hours. This is why upon arriving in Los Angeles I only had the ability to point at things and grunt.

The trip there started well. Red eye through a lightening storm. Yeah. We basically flew upside down which meant that the scared british girl next to me and I hugged, made out our wills and popped Xanax like Tic Tacs. Luckily we landed safely. After a brief 3 hour nap my friend and I went out for brunch, which lead to multiple mimosas which led to another friend, Adam and I, hosting a photo shoot in Central Park. First of all, I fucking love Central Park and second of all, I love New Yorkers as they didn't blink twice at the two kids running and leaping in the air while the other took photos of it and giggled. The day wore on and it did not end until almost 7AM in Brooklyn. This was the classiest moment of the trip as I drunk, stood over Sera's passed out body ( who had doubted my ability to hang) while shouting 'Who's the punk now?!' and holding a beer. It was a moment I'm sure my mom will be very proud of.

Another brief nap and I met up with my friend Ila. We had met with vague plans of 'let's eat something and walk'. We in fact did eat something and started to head to the Upper West Side with the idea of just wandering around and possibly pressing our faces against the cheese case at Zabar's and drooling. About one block into our cross town journey we spotted a wine bar and wordlessly moved towards it, sat down and ordered. This is one of the many reasons I love Ila, as she can read my mind and understands that my mind is usually thinking about wine. We drank and caught up and then made friends with the Scottish tourists seated next to us. Apparently we made an excellent impressions as we were given their names and town in Scotland and told we should visit and ask for them. Don't think I won't.

My last night involved eating shocking amounts of pizza and crying in the east village. Lots of hugs and 'move back you idiot' and then I was on my way back here to Hell-A. Since arriving I have slept and had a cat permanently attached to my head. And I am sad. I miss home and realize that New York may not be as out of my system as I thought.

Friday, May 23, 2008

Oh Yes, That's Completely Logical

I arrived back home yesterday early. Apparently the flying Gods took pity on me and the headwind turned into a tailwind and boom, 30 minutes early. Rejoice!

I walk outside with my bags and to the stop I have parked in, terminal 2, second floor, spot 144. I get there and no car. I think, ok, I just got this wrong. That even though I had written down my parking spot on my ticket, I had written it down incorrectly. I think called my mommy and whimpered 'my car is a'missin!' and by whimpered I mean called out loudly and with a touch of panic. My mom then listened to me walk all 4 floors of the parking garage while hitting the panic button on my key chain in hopes of having my car honk loudly at me. It didn't. After 30 minutes she said, ok, you need to find a cop. I nodded and hung up, head down and wandered off to explain the 'Car Go Invisible' situation.

I found an attendant and he asked for my parking ticket. After a brief scan he said 'Oh, you're in 2B, this is 2A'.

This involved me staring at him for 30 seconds and then mustering up the strength for 'HUH?'

You see, even though both garages call themselves 2, and there is NO indication of an A or B, there are two terminal 2 parking garages. Which is totally logical. Oh, and they are identical. Thanks LAX for the fun practical joke. And for helping me find my car, which in fact was honking like mad. It gives me brief solace to know that if any LAX parking attendant crew were walking past my car they were very confused as to why it honked for 2 second and then stopped. And also have the trunk opening and closing randomly.

But, in short, I hate you terminal 2, and I am home. Until this evening. Yay home.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Shaken, not Stirred

Did you know that flying directly into a 130 mph headwind will not only cause you to be 30 minutes late but will also cause you to feel as though you've just been through the spin cycle? I discovered this yesterday. I am a bad flyer. B-A-D and require Xanax and wine to get me through the calmest of flights. Yesterday when the flight was so bumpy I couldn't pour my tiny bottle of wine into my cup I drank directly from the bottle. Yeah. I did. And the dude next to me? Looked at me enviously and bought a bottle for himself.

I will say this for Air Canada however, excellent cheesy movie selection. I totally watched Mad Money without fear of judgement. And then I clutched the seat in front of me and drank from the bottle for the next 2 hours in hopes that doing that would take away the knowledge that I was being shaken like a rag doll.

Good times. And I get to do it again today. And tomorrow. Let's all hope that the winds have died down and the flight is calm or I will wipe Air Canada out of their wine supplies. Also, possibly clutch the stranger in the seat beside me. Rock and roll.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Leavin' on a Jet Plane...again

And again. And again. Tomorrow is leg one of my five week long odyssey of travel. First, Canada, which I'm sure everyone is shocked about. Equally shocking is the fact that I will be there for 24 hours. I am then back in LA for approximately 18 hours before I fly my ass to New York. This leg of the travel I am very excited about. There will be drinking and Central Park and most importantly friends I haven't seen since my exodus two years ago. I miss New York like a limb and the idea of being there again is making me bouncy like a cracked out three year old.

Then I come back. And travel again three more times for work. I am calling this my Great North American Summer. Or, how I got enough Amex Points to get a new iPod which I will use when I fly to Bali on my frequent flyer miles. Or, Scranton, as let's face it frequent flyer miles don't get you a lot these days. Whatever. It will be free and that will be enough. As long as there is a hammock involved and someone willing to fan me with palm fronds then sign me up.

But, that will have to wait. First I have to fly to Canada and a variety of other cities in the states and pretend to be an adult. This will involve the wearing of suits and smiling and nodding. I will then scurry back to my hotel room and watch reality shows wherein people try to date internet stars or dance. This will help keep me sane as being forced to pretend to be all grown up for hours on end gives me a headache. I will also seek out and eat enough maple products in the next 24 hours to tide me over for the next 5 weeks. I have my priorities straight.

So, here's to the start of blogging from the road. There may be pictures. And these pictures may be of hotel bars. And if you're lucky, maple donuts. Stayed tuned...

A Gym Tale

The other day I was out with friends in Hollywood. (When you read that word, please pronounce a la the opening from Pretty Woman and do jazz hands). After drinks and copious amounts of french fries I decided to drag my sorry ass to the gym to burn approximately 1/7th of it off. Since I was in Hollywood (jazz hands) I hit a gym I had never been to before. And I will never go to again. As apparently it wasn't so much a gym as a stereotype stronghold.

Every person there weighed 18 pounds. They were also clad 100% in spandex and mostly just stood around posing. I however was rocking a side pony and an old tee shirt from a set I worked on. Sexy, I know. I sat down on the abductor, you know that leg press machine wherein you basically imitate wind shield wipers, when I noticed the person next to me on the same machine. She was chewing gum and mostly just looking around the gym. Also, she wasn't actually using the machine, just sitting there. That's when she whipped out her cell phone and started talking. These statements were verbatim from her mouth:

'You know, I am just like, totally undervalued as a talent in this town. They just like, don't, like, get me, you know?'
'I have an audition tomorrow and I'm so gonna kill it. I think this could be it as long as they don't like, ignore my talent, you know? Oh, it's a mini series for sci fi'
'I'm working out, gotta keep tone' (she was now checking her nails)

I sadly moved over to another machine where two dudes were standing and talking. Their conversation? Apparently their skills films just aren't understood in this town, because they're too deep, dude, too deep. But a student film they just starred in should really open things up for them.

This is when my head exploded and I had to go home. To you know, undervalue some talent. And rock slowly in a corner wondering how this is my life.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

You Know You're Classy When...

You spend all weekend watching a 'So You Think You Can Dance' marathon, on the couch, drinking a your underwear.


It really is a wonder I'm single. The line begins to the left gentlemen.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

A Moment From My Day

While on the phone with my mom this evening I had the following conversation:

Me: I have been having weird, intense cravings. Like 'if I don't eat a pear RIGHT NOW I will hurt someone or die, perhaps both'. But, I know I'm not pregnant as I highly doubt I'm the prime candidate for immaculate conception.

Her: Well, yes. I would assume God would choose someone who says 'fuck' a lot less frequently.

The best part? She whispered the word fuck. And then I posted it on the internet.

Happy Birthday Liz

Yesterday was Ms. Liz's birthday. She didn't want a party or big hoopla but I wanted to do something as I celebrate everything. Yes, I am that girl, I know you are not surprised. I found out that one of my favorite singers, Mason Jennings, was playing a small venue in Santa Monica so I bought us tickets. We drove there, directions in hand, hoping there wasn't a line at the bar as Liz needed vodka, in large quantities, post haste. Then we arrived. And it was a high school.

Yes. My awesome birthday rock concert was held at Santa Monica High School's theater. There was no bar, but there was however, a bake sale.

We sat down and the opening act started. First let me say, she is an amazingly talented artist, great voice and cute as a button. But, apparently she's not ever looked in a mirror and realized the adorableness that is her, as every single song was about death or depression. Sometimes about both death and depression. So you know, your basic uplifting hour and a half long set. Nothing says 'birthday' like music about death inside a high school auditorium.

Luckily Mason came on and sang nice things and looked adorable so spirits were uplifted. Then we ran as fast as our little legs could carry us where I basically put a funnel in her mouth and poured vodka in. Because I am a good friend. Who likes to take her friends to very depressing folk rock concerts and then get them drunk. Do I know how to party or do I know how to party?

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

An Open Letter

Dear Global Warming,

Hi there. I believe we've met a few times. You know, the weekends in April when it was 95? Well, I just heard you are coming back to town. Specifically on Friday when the estimate is that it will be around 100. Here's the thing, global warming, some of us, ok roughly 90% of people within Los Angeles, don't have central air. Meaning? We will melt. And be cranky. In a city where the populous at large is already 8 notches up from cranky (due to the lack of carbs and stupid drivers), it's not wise to piss us off. We will take our designer handbags and storm over to our house. And you haven't been bitched out until you've been bitched out by someone who hasn't eaten sugar since 1985. It's not pretty, but it is very thin. So let's put it this way Global Warming, chill the fuck out, watch a couple of Tila Tequila episodes and call off the dogs. You've been warned.

Hugs and Kisses,

Monday, May 12, 2008

A Day

I have had A Day. Ergo, I skipped the gym and baked cupcakes. Then I posed for pictures with my cat. Who's a winner? Why I do believe that's me!

I totally should have gone to the gym as that would have worked out The Rage. But cream cheese frosting is significantly tastier and therefore a close second. Also a close second would be screaming the word yam on the phone with Liz. We have decided that the 40 dollars we spent yesterday to have our 'chakras cleansed' was completely worth it because it gave us the new curse word of Yam. It's fun and it garners odd looks when yelled or said out loud. And you can shout it at coworkers without having to talk to HR. Sure, you may have to see the office shrink to talk about your fixation with root vegetables, but I digress. I believe this word was the only thing I took away from that class as this morning the first thing I did when I left the house this morning was to yell very not nice words at a woman driving a mini van full of small children. Screw the chakras, she was blocking traffic. Also, she had annoying bumper stickers so she totally deserved it.

Yam. Yam all over the damn place.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Oh So LA

Today I went to chakra restorative yoga.


I did.

It was just as LA as you would think from the title. The session started when the teacher explained the light therapy that would be used in the class and then directed us into the first pose with these words: 'your energy source is located next to the anus, so please spread your cheeks and settle into the pose for maximum benefit.' It was then that I started to laugh. The kind of not out loud laugh where one just shakes and has tears rolling down their face. The two friends I went with then spent the next 2.5 hours deliberately not making eye contact with me as when they did, I would lose it. Once I regained my composure I joined in the super classy spreading of the cheeks and thought to myself that if my energy source is located in my ass, I don't think I want it. This started the laughing again which meant I had to redo the cheek spread. Repeat this cycle for the couple of hours and you get my class experience.

My favorite part however was when we chanted. Generally, you just chant Om and it's relaxing. This time we chanted Yam, pronounced YOM. The teacher kept reminding us of how it was spelled which meant I couldn't help but think that I had paid 40 dollars to chant about yams and talk openly about my butt energy. It also made me think of Thanksgiving, but that's neither here nor there. But generally, during a yoga session, one shouldn't be contemplating new side dishes to be served in November. But I was. I was also using all of my non-butt related energy to not laugh when she spritzed chakra enhancing scents on me. This time I was successful...because I'm a very mature adult. Or too concentrated on yam dishes. Whichever.

Thanks LA, you're a peach.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Now With Extra Fat

I have come to the conclusion that I am basically veal. I eat, then I take a nap, repeat. This is pretty much my existence. I attempted to join a gym a few months back. I went, I sweated, and that was it. I had fully intended to plunk down my credit card and sweat it out in a pretentious LA gym on a regular basis, but then I found something out. Well three things really. The first is: I am very, very lazy. The second was the fact that old boss man (aka Satan) went to said gym. I could not bring myself to go to the same gym as him for fear that I would leap from my elliptical and strangle him. There was also a distinct possibility that he wore spandex to the gym and I didn't want to go blind. And third, every person in that gym was incredibly hot and/or on television and I couldn't work out next to them due to the therapy bills that would ensue.

So, I have continued on in my veal like state quite content with my diet of 90% carbs, 10% sugar. But then a few days ago an email went out announcing a new corporate gym membership. So tonight I went and checked it out. It was like I had walked into the promised land. Inside a very LA location gym were sweaty, chubby, red in the face people. My people. I would estimate that every person there is just as out of shape as yours truly. Perhaps even worse. They also were wearing bad clothes. I almost cried with joy.

So, I joined. I am going to go sweat it out and attempt to de-vealify. Wish me luck.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Moments of Glory

There are moments in ones life where they feel especially proud of themselves, as though they are cool and on top of things. I did not experience these today. I did however have to sing the Fergie song to myself to spell the word glamorous. Thus, that song has been in my head on repeat since 8:30 AM.

As I was driving home, alternately twitching and cursing under my breath whilst humming that damn song, I decided to have some fun. I plugged in my iPod and rocked out to Journey. By 'rocked out' I don't mean I listened to it. I mean my car was vibrating and I was full on dancing. Arms flailing, head thrown back kind of rock out. People stared. I did not care and upped the ante. The arm gestures got bigger, the stereo was cranked to max and I believe I was red in the face due to the heartfelt singing. And that's when I noticed a former co-worker in the car next to mine with her mouth agape staring directly at me. I stopped mid 'Believin' and waved, cleared my throat and went back to responsible driving. For the next mile we were stuck in traffic together, trying not to lock eyes. When traffic finally broke I saw her in my rear view mirror laughing so hard tears were rolling down her face.

I may look like an asshole, but at least I brought her some joy. Now excuse me while I go join the Witness Protection Program.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

A Classy Evening

Today at work I had A Not Good Day. So I IM'd a friend and invited her over for wine and thai food. After the wine we came to the conclusion that watching A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila would be a good idea. And it was.

This show? Is possibly the downfall of America...but also, HILARIOUS. The dude's have the worst hair ever seen on television outside of Cops, and they made the contestants eat a pig's vagina. Yeah. They did. The best part of this was my friend, choking on her wine, explained how last season she (Tila) made them eat 'penis testicles'. By this she, of course, meant cow penis AND testicles, but I like to believe that MTV somehow created a hybrid and then made idiots eat them. I then explained her incorrect wording with the deeply philosophical statement of 'drunk things make you say not right stuff' as I was laughing too hard to string a coherent thought together.

I have now declared Tuesday's Tila day and have made my friend sign a blood oath that she will come back and watch with me weekly. This is not only because she's a great friend, but also, because I can't watch this show alone or I will feel very sad about my life.

Viva le Tuesday!

Monday, May 05, 2008

4 Eyes

Yep, I'm getting glasses. Apparently I have an astigmatism in both eyes. Because really, the spinster with two cats look wasn't officially complete without some specs. But, the true highlight of my day was when the dude who was fitting me for the glasses (who was easily 120 years old) told me that the glasses 'really did something for me' and, I quote, gave me the 'sexy librarian look'. At least now I know my demographic.

My mojo is misfiring all over the place. I better steer clear of retirement communities until this is rectified. If not, I may end up with an 85 year old boyfriend. But then again, beggars can't be choosers.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

10 Years Approaches

On Friday I had a summit with two friends from high school. This summit was held over expensive pasta and very good wine, as all summit's should be. During our conversation we discussed the impending doom that is our 10 year reunion. We also discussed the fact that we are quite possibly the only three people from our graduating class who are not, have not been, and are not in the process of getting married. This caused us to drink more.

The drinking lead for a summit move to my living room where the sacred bible of high school reunions is kept: The Yearbook. Man, I made some bad hair and wardrobe choices. Also, apparently I have successfully blocked out 99.99% of the time between 1994-1998, and this? Brings joy to my heart. Although it will make for an awkward reunion as I feel the vast majority of it will me staring blankly at people while they attempt to describe a class we had together. More than likely that won't happen though as I was queen of the nerds and socialized with approximately 12 people. And those 12 people and I plan on attending the reunion together where we will get very drunk and make catty comments about people.

Ergo, it will be just like every other weekend except this one will be in a desert and I will be carrying an emergency hip flask. In fact, we all will. This was part of the summit decision. That and a car service. We plan ahead.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

An Open Letter

Dear Pretentious Hipsters at the Cheesecake Factory in The Grove,

You know this is the Cheesecake Factory, right? It's not Il Sole or The Ivy. It's the Cheesecake Factory. There is one of these bad boys in every suburban mall across the United States. Including this here fancy LA mall. That being said, one doesn't need to dress up for the ol' CF. Also, you aren't being witty and irreverent when you eat here. You mostly, mostly look like an asshole flipping through the giant menu with an air of disdain. You are wearing a slogan tee shirt with a vest over it and gelled hair, so you will always look like an asshole, but let's face it dude, you aren't here because it's 'commentary on middle America' you are here because you really like food the size of your head and a giant slab of cheesecake. So own up. Stop pretending you are too cool for school (which, I understand is the general MO for all of LA) and leave the vest at home. Put on your elastic waist pants and belly up, your 6 pound burger with a gallon of soda is on it's way out. Get your eat on and lose the attitude, or I will beat you.

Hugs and Kisses,