Tuesday, May 04, 2010

Dating in Los Angeles

Ok, let's just say this upfront: Dating in LA sucks. Beyond sucks actually. If it just sucked it'd be normal levels. However this level of suck is akin to being stuck in a car with a group of strangers who are screaming while farting for 15 hours straight. And then at the end of the car trip you get punched in the faced and shiv'd. Yeah. Just about that level.

Sunday I had a date for drinks. Dude showed up in a dirty tee shirt and approximately 6 inches shorter than stated. If in fact you say you are 6 feet tall, be at least over 5'7. I towered over him which clearly made him angry. Date lasted for 1 drink and 1 drink only before we both ran outta there like our hair was on fire. Me more quickly as my legs are as long as his entire body.

Last week I had a great date. Great! He was cute and fun and we talked for hours. At the end of said date he asked me out again. I, being of moderately sound mind, said yes. We compared schedules and agreed to Wednesday with him saying that he'd also like to see me that weekend if possible. He made sure I put our date in my calendar and then we parted ways. We texted a bit the next day and then he had a friend in town so I knew he'd be busy. Yesterday I sent him a text saying hi and asking if we were still on. No word. Ah life... fun.

I was a bit bummed but whatever, right? So he wasn't as interested any more, c'est la vie. I then went home to get an email from a dude asking why I'd never returned his call. The reason was: I hadn't gotten the call. Apparently my phone is evil (wich I knew) and had been not notifying me of missed calls or voicemail. I immediately called the dude to apologize at which point he A) yelled at me and then B) told me that he prefers girls hot and stupid and while I had the hot part down was too smart to date. And then he hung up on me.

Internet, this is why I own cats.

Even though I've only been back out there for about a month or so I think I'm taking another break from the internet. Instead I'm going to go back to meeting boys the old fashioned way: drunk, in bars.

Monday, April 19, 2010


So... dating can bite me. Seriously. Especially in Los Angeles.

There was the dude who thinks cake is the devil (whereas I consider it one of the 4 major food groups). He also is terrified of bar soap. Let that one sink in. He told me about this and internet, I literally laughed in his face. I am a FANTASTIC dater. I mean when a grown man tells you that he can't keep soap in his house or look at it in a bar without feeling queasy can you really keep a straight face? No. Especially if you're me.

Then there was the Viking. We had a 7 hour long date wherein we laughed, talked, made out like 13 year olds hopped up on hormones, fought, cried and made up. Yeah. I KNOW. We then had a second date which was drama free and fun, followed by more making out like teenagers. And then he poof disappeared. Despite all of the you're amazing talk and the tongues in mouths not our own. So today I have been pouty about it. As dammit, he's a Viking and I tend to date, well, pussies. The fact of the matter is I am tired of the boys and I was all excited to find a man. A man full of drama, yes, but a man none the less.

Internet dating isn't working like it used to for me. Perhaps it's because I've now dated all of the men in Los Angeles. Perhaps it's because I'm nearing 30 at light speed and am now outside of a large portion of male dating age ranges. Who knows. I do however know I am sick of dating guys that are crazy, lame, or go poof into the night. I'm ready for the universe to deliver the dude I'm meant to be with in a bow. A manly bow, but a bow none the less. Is this too much to ask? I don't think so. Also, while I'm asking I would like a million dollars and a unicorn. But mostly the dude. (and the money, let's face facts here). (oh and some cake because I have a cold) (and maybe the unicorn afterall).

My astrologist who I spend money talking to because I'm mature adult told me to put it out into the universe that I'm ready. So universe, listen up. I'm tired of the not right dudes. I'm ready for the right one. And if he's Viking hot, well, that's just all the better.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Well, Hello There

Apparently I have a blog that I kinda sorta forgot about. Oops? What can I say, I drink a lot.

The last few weeks of my life, they have been busy. So let's recap, all brief like and then I'll go back to regular scheduled programming with updates about my daily shenanigans.

- I went to Vegas. While there I encountered my uncle's new girlfriend who I believe is a former stripper. While at a club she decided she wanted to get to know our family a bit better and reached into my shirt and squeezed a boob. It was at that moment that my brain melted and oozed out my ears in a never before seen fashion. Dudes. It was Awkward. Possibly The Awkward. I do not know you but I wish upon you, internet strangers, that you never ever ever have to go through that. Ever. To erase that memory I ran a stress test of my liver and found a pretty boy. I make fantastic adult choices.

- I went with Ava to go skydiving but could not skydive due to a back injury from the car accident. I did however indoor skydive. It was FANTASTIC. It's like being in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and soaring up to the ceiling. One of the ladies who did it however did not like the experience however and had a complete melt down in the chamber. Kicking, flipping around and screaming. Watching that really made the experience oh so much better. The comedy, it was high. I suggest you go do this immediately. I do not however suggest you get the photo package unless of course you like know what you look like with jowls. They are, hands down, the most horrible pictures of me ever taken. And that includes the one of me in a hammer pants suit with a perm. Yeah.

- Today I took a segway tour of Long Beach because apparently I'm not a big enough nerd in my day to day life. I fucking loved it. No joke. Oh how I wish I did not love segways, and yet, I do. In fact if asked if I wanted to buy a Vespa or a Segway at this moment I would say Segway. You can spin in place! As I'm essentially 4 years old I found that fantastic. I do not however suggest Segway'ing in the rain. It's cold. And wet. And if possible you look even less cool.

- I'm oddly addicted to The Twitter. I like to call it The Twitter to keep in line with what my mom calls it. But seriously, addicted. It's like 140 character crack. I'm sure I'll be over it in the coming weeks but right now, I can't get enough. So, while I have not been here, I have been updating my life on the interwebz on that forum.

- Internet dating. Yeah. Back out there. Went on a date with a dude who has not eaten a carb in 4 years for fear of gaining weight. FOUR. YEARS. I was tempted to ask if he had a vagina but somehow refrained. If that's what is available in LA well then, I'm going to go and get myself some more cats and a pile of dessert.

Ok kids, I'm spent. I'm off to San Francisco tomorrow for work. There will likely be few shenanigans but I can guarantee I will eat some bread in honor of LA.

Monday, March 22, 2010

So That Sucked

If you're following me on Twitter you know that I was in a car accident this weekend. The car accident was with an uninsured driver who hit me while I was turning out of my driveway. The saddest part of the story would be the fact that I was all dressed up and wearing really cute shoes. Really cute shoes that went to waste that night as I turned right around, went home, replaced fancy dress with pajama pants and drank a lot of wine. A LOT. I did that the next day but the wine was replaced with wine coolers as my friend came by to keep me company and boost my spirits....with Twilight: New Moon. Internet, it totally worked. That movie is fun when you're sitting in your underpants sippin' on some sweet Bartles and James.

Unfortunately during the accident I jacked my back up and have been in, how do you say it delicately, shit tons of fucking pain. Today I had to go to urgent care to have it checked out per request of my insurance company. Dudes, my doctor was a Russian midget. You CAN NOT make this shit up. You can also not make up the fact that he asked me to draw out my accident for him so that he could understand what happened better (I swear he was a cohort of Geico's). Apparently my drawing wasn't good. In fact apparently my drawing skills are that of a 3 year old with poor hand eye coordination. When a Russian midget says this to you while you are in pain, well, let's just say there was waving of the arms and not nice words. The midget clued in that I planned to squish him like a Triscuit and gave me a prescription for muscle relaxers. This brings us to my most fantastic discovery ever: I really like muscle relaxers.

I like them even better when I have a whole big bottle full and a plane ticket for Vegas in the morning. Wheeeeee!

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Fantastic Life Decisions

On Monday I took a spinning class. On Monday, I injured myself at said spinning class. Let this full gravity of this sink in. I injured myself. On a stationary bike. I'll wait while you finishing laughing.

So there I am sweaty, cursing profusely and doing the part of class where you stand up on the bike and pedal real fast like. (For those of you who have never taken a spinning class, close your eyes and imagine hell. It's kind of like that except sweatier. ) Suddenly my right shoe comes unclipped and my whole body flings forward at warp speed right into the handle bar. It hurt. A lot. But because at my core I am the most competitive person in the history of the world I clipped my shoe back in and went back to pedaling. It was only after class that I was able to check out my leg and discover a welt the size of a baby's head. Well, a small baby, but still. The welt is now purple and green and I think really adds a certain touch of class to all of my outfits.

But let's really look at this. I got injured when dancing in Vegas. I got injured during physical therapy. I got injured on a motherfucking stationary bike. And yet? Next weekend I am still planning on going skydiving.



I mean, when else am I going to get the chance to weep and urinate on another human who is strapped to me at 12,500 feet?

Sunday, March 14, 2010

A Scene From the Day

Ava: I just flirted with Keanu Reeves!

Me: Of course you did! That's amazing.

Ava: Seriously. How's your night?

Me: Me? Oh I discovered that the 3rd and 4th Cutting Edge sequels are pretty good but the 2nd is the weakest.

Ava: (silence)

Me: So.... should I just call a spade and spade and buy another cat?

Ava: (nodding)

And that my friends is how you spend a Sunday.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

So, Um, Hi

Apparently I haven't blogged for a week. This is due to A) moving and living in box city, USA B) starting new job and freaking out about it and C) the head cold attack. Ergo, silence. But, I have conquered week one of the new gig and my house is now 90% box free. The head cold is still here but that's because I haven't slept and keep going out. You see there are these things called 'bars' and my friends keep inviting me to them.

The conversations going like this:

Friends (usually Ava): Hey! Let's go grab dinner and a drink!

Me: I should really stay home, I'm still not feeling great and it's Tuesday.

F.U.A: Um... yeah, but wine kills germs right? So, drinking and eating with me is kind of the same as taking antibiotics.

Me: You make a valid argument, I'll see you in 20.


And this is why I'm still sick a week later. It's also made for a super great first impression on my coworkers as my nose is falling off and I keep sniffling. Sexy, I know. Try not to all claw through your computers trying to get to me. This week I am however determined to get healthy. That's right, dammit. Healthy. And I won't go out. Except Wednesday for the scheduled happy hour and rollerskating (I KNOW). Oh and Friday for my dinner plans. And Saturday for my house warming party.

Fuck. I guess I'll just be know as Sniffles Girl at work. Trust me when I say I've been called significantly worse.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Tips For A Move

1) When your two male movers lift up a large chair and reveal hordes and hordes of unused tampons that your cats have apparently stolen and then rolled away, DO NOT shrug, say 'woo, cats, huh?' and then go in for a high five. Shit gets awkward.

2) If you bruise like a peach load up on iron beforehand. If not you will be so covered in bruises that your pedicurist, days later, will look up at you with sad eyes and ask if you have a boyfriend, and if so, if things are ok at home.

3) Do not buy under the bed storage containers before measuring the height of said bed. If you do this, do not, I repeat do not attempt to lift the bed by yourself to just shove them under. If you insist on doing this, watch your head.

4) Have lots of pain killers handy.

5) Have lots of alcohol handy.

6) If your cats are freaked out by their sudden change in location, do not soothe them for a minute, then decide to be productive and turn on the power drill.

7) Pack something that can conveniently and efficiently remove cat urine.

8) Do not go into new building elevator looking like a homeless person and smelling of garlic. This is when you will run into attractive next door neighbor, Antonio, with the sexy accent.

9) Do not schedule a bikini wax and dental surgery during the move time frame. Yeah.

10) Unpack painkillers, wash down with alcohol.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Thanks, LA

I quit my online dating account about two weeks ago. Before I did however, I struck up one last conversation with a dude. According to his pictures he was adorable and according to his emails funny and charming. Oh internet, ye giver of amazing deals on shoes and hours of amusement, why do you lie about dudes?

Our date was set for 7:30 on Saturday, per his request. I got to the bar a few minutes early as let's face it, I'm always early. I grabbed a glass of wine, made friends with some of the patrons and waited. And waited. Twenty minutes later the fabulous gay boy at the bar and I were discussing leaving to go dancing as clearly I'd been stood up. Five minutes later my phone rings, dude is stuck in traffic he says, be there in five. Sure. If by five you mean twenty, then five it is. He arrived and well... let's just say the effort he put into getting ready was about the same effort I put into going to the gym on a weekly basis, ergo, non existent. I mean, nothing says I care what you think about me like high tops, rolled jeans and a button down straining at the buttons. Also his picture was clearly taken five years ago or involved heavy amounts of photoshop.

He was unapologetic about arriving almost an hour late. He then went and got himself a glass of wine. After he returned to the table I got up and refilled my glass. He then kind of shrugged at me and then started talking about himself. Finally thirty minutes later I was able to break in and say that I had to leave to get to a party. I paid, left and went home to start my new hobby: xanax taking and collecting cat art.

And officially, I'm on a break from dating again.

Friday, February 19, 2010


So, when I'm stressed out I tend to agree to do really stupid things. Like fling my body out of a perfectly working plane. You see Ava is having a birthday soon and to celebrate the bursting out of the womb that she did years ago she has decided that skydiving is the only appropriate thing to do.

Internet, my friends are insane.

However, they are not more insane than me as I have agreed to go with her. This is stupid for oh so many reasons. The first and really only reason being the fact I am a giant chicken. I am afraid of the following things: heights, planes, death and snakes. A LOT OF THOSE I WILL HAVE TO FACE WHEN FLINGING MY BODY OUT OF A PLANE. The only way I would willingly do that on my own is if there was in fact a snake on that motherfucking plane. But, I doubt there will be. Instead, it will be me and another scared blonde who is equally afraid of heights. We may have some kind of mental illness, I'm aware of this.

However in about 3 or 4 weeks I will strap myself to another human and be airborne. I will also weep and wear Depends. Seriously. I figure I probably shouldn't urinate on the person holding the parachute. I call this my master plan. Swift, huh? I will also unleah a stream of expletives that would make your momma's hair turn white. I'm already planning ahead you see and working on some alliterative patterns. I figure I should be creative with it.

So, yeah. If in a few weeks you see a girl strapped to a parachute, shaking and clutching a bottle of Jack, I suggest steering clear. Unless of course you want to hear an 18 word sentence made up of variations of the word fuck. Then by all means, say hello.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

My Life, Currently

You know what's fun? ANYTHING BUT PACKING.

Dudes, in putting all of your life in small boxes you realize just how much useless shit you own. Phone bills from 2002? Don't mind if I do! A wallet I was given when I was 19? Yeah, it makes logical sense to keep that in a drawer.

And this is my life. I go to work, I go home, I pack. I then fall into bed, exhausted and covered in dust. Hence my silence, because yeah, packing? Not that exciting. It doesn't compel the words and the writing on the internet. It does however make me want to drink straight out of the bottle and wonder what the fuck I'm doing with my life. But then I chant my new calming mantra of 'central air' and it soothes my soul. That could also be the wine, but whatever.

Thus, until I move expect profanity laden posts that may solely be the word fuck repeated over and over again. They may also be drunken ramblings. So... you know, pretty much status quo around here.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Things I Do With My Money

So, you'd think that because I'm moving and that's generally a costly endeavor I'd be saving my money like a good little girl. If you've been reading this blog for any amount of time you know that's not likely.

Ergo, I just booked this: a hot air balloon flight. Because nothing says calm, peaceful morning like a blonde girl weeping in the air, urinating on those below.

You see, I'm terrified of heights. Like paralyzingly scared. And yet, I keep doing super idiotic things like strapping myself in a motherfucking basket to take a 'calm' and 'fun' flight over wine country. Yeah. Why do I do these things? Oh, Lord, how I wish I knew. All I can say is I have this friend let's call her Ava and she suggests things like this and before I can stop myself I'm signed up. For example parasailing, which we did in Hawaii. It went like this:

me: You ok?
her: yeah, you ok?

For 10 minutes. The people in the boat laughed so hard at us they almost capsized.

So, really, this is just me giving back to the community/amusing those around me. Or, I was dropped on my head as a child. One of the two really.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Ah, Change

Here's the deal y'all, I fucking hate change. I dread it and drag my feet. When faced with it I stamp my feet and pout. It's super attractive, I assure you. Thus everyone in my life is kind of shocked right now as I essentially took my life, turned it upside down and shook it like a baby. (Side note, apparently some people don't like it when I use that phrase as it's 'offensive'. To those people I say, well then, don't let me hold your baby, jackass)

Anyway. This week I got a new job and decided that wasn't enough upheaval so I went and found a new apartment. That I move into in 2 weeks. Approximately 4 whole days before I start my new awesomely exciting job.


So... apparently I'm insane. I mean, we kind of knew that already, right? But this isn't an insane that makes me think I'm an awesome karaoke singer and can totally handle doing 5 straight shots of whiskey. You know, the fun regular kind of Meghan insane. No, it's the insane that makes me want to sit in the corner, gently rocking back and forth. But I can't. Because the corner will be filled with boxes full of all of my belongings.

Swan diving into change. Fun for the whole family. (please send vodka, I'm scared)

Monday, February 08, 2010

Best Laid Plans

Yeah... so remember how I was going to be responsible this weekend? Totally didn't happen. I did however watch two, yes two, America's Next Top Model marathons and perform Baby Got Back, drunkenly, at karaoke. Oops?

You see Saturday a friend of mine who is always traveling for work was actually in town. So we went for dinner. A very, very expensive dinner in the most LA restaurant of them all: Mr. Chows. It was freaking delicious and let me just say, their martinis were very strong. I had two and that's when I decided that I needed to go sing on a stage. Loudly. And dance. Awkwardly.

So, my apartment is still a gigantic mess. But, I now have video showing me just how wonderfully off key I rap. So I call that a win/win situation. Rationalization is my number one skill.

Thursday, February 04, 2010


Dudes, the only logical explanation for the current state of my apartment is that wild beavers broke in, took all of my stuff out of the closets and attempted to build a dam and when that didn't work blew it up. Yeah. So, it's a bit messy. But clearly not my fault, goddamn wild beavers.

Seriously though I legitimately can't find half of the stuff I own. Why? Because it's all in one massive pile in the middle of the floor. Remember the trip I took to San Francisco about two weeks ago? The suitcase is still packed at the bottom of the pile. In fact I'm thinking of just taking said suitcase to a hotel, with a cat tucked under each arm, while a team clad in safety suits cleans for me.

Generally speaking I'm not the tidiest person to ever walk the planet. However in the last few years I've gotten much, much better. I'd say 3 weeks out of 4 you can see the floor! (that totally rhymed) Apparently all of that 'better' went straight out the door with the dawn of 2010. I blame the fact that I have spent approximately 15 minutes in my apartment in the last 5 weeks. Those were a wonderful 15 minutes wherein I sat on my couch and spoke to it in a loving voice, explaining that I missed it and would be with it again soon. It was a touching moment, I assure you.

Thus this weekend I will pretend to be an adult. I will stay in and not go out day drinking. I will clean, dammit. And I will wear a tiara while doing it. Because I'm mature and a pretty, pretty princess.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Another One Bites the Dust

Apparently when I'm single a memo is sent out to the males in the greater Los Angeles area. This memo states: 'if you are single and have a non functioning penis, Meghan is currently accepting applicants'. Oh how I wish I were kidding.

I was dating a wonderful, amazing guy. He made me laugh, he was attentive and smart. We read the same books and have amazing amounts in common. He and I have essentially only held hands. Because that's all he can do. SERIOUSLY. Ergo, I am now single again. Also, I am planning a trip to New Orleans to seek out a voodoo doctor who can lift whatever crazy Gypsy curse that has been placed upon me. With the exception of New Years Boy (oh, how I miss him) the last 3 boys I've dated, count 'em, 3, have had ahem... issues. So while if just looking at the numbers of men I've dated in the past year you'd think I was a woman of loose morals. AND DAMMIT I'M TRYING TO BE ONE. However, in actuality I am closer to being a nun than the vast majority of single humans. Well a nun who curses, drinks and occasionally has flings with marines. So you know, the good kind of nun.

Now excuse me while I go weep bitterly and pour one out for my hommies. You know, the ones with the broken penises.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Second Opinion Time

So, before I commit myself to being hacked open and forced into a brace, I'm getting a second opinion. My blind hope is that the 2nd opinion dude will tell me that my knee has magically healed itself and no brace is necessary, however a trip to Napa is. That can totally happen, right?

The more I think about it, the more a brace seems like a better option that scars and surgery. Here's why: I live in a walk up, am clumsy and have cats that like to chase my feet. Sexy, I know. I'm thinking I may delay it a year or two so that I can move to some place without stairs. If I'm still in the same place then I will have redirected the moving energy to teaching my cats how to mix a proper drink, so that will make up for it.

Seems like a good plan, right? I think so.

Monday, January 25, 2010

All Knee, All The Time

So San Francisco was awesome. Seriously. We drank, we ate, we laughed, we did a photoshoot with a horsehead lamp. You really can't beat that. I will in fact write more about it in the next day or so.

However, this morning I got up early and went to the surgeon. Apparently I have two options for my knee. Wear a super sexy leg brace for the rest of my life OR have surgery. And not the surgery they would do on any other person with the same problem that I have. Oh no. You see, I am a freak of nature. I am hyper bendy (and yet I'm single, explain that one to me). Therefore, the surgery which would mostly be on my muscles would require a six month recovery time. Six. Motherfucking. Months. One of which I'll be in a hip to toe leg brace. Then, each week they'll bend the leg brace one more inch. Whee! Then I get to have more super duper awesome physical therapy.


And this is why I drink.

So the question becomes this: Do I attempt to just get really, really in shape, wear a knee brace at all times (big one over the jeans when I'm out and about, smaller one under the jeans when I'm just at home with los gatos). OR. Severe ouch but my knee will never pop out again which means I won't fall down and go boom.

Thoughts, internet? I leave most of my important decisions of my life up to strangers. And coin flips. I'm nothing if not logical.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Nerding it Up

So tomorrow I'm getting on a plane to San Francisco with Liz and Ava to go to a TweetUp. In case you are not an internet nerd like me that essentially means a bunch of strangers from Twitter are all meeting up in a bar and then ignoring each other while we post mildly witty (me) or hilariously amazing (all others) 140 character comments via our smart phones.

Liz is very in to Twitter and she's quite good at it. How she talked me into it went like this: get up on Christmas morning, open presents, drink too much champagne, ask if I want to go to San Francisco. I'm a hard sell, internet.

When telling Ava of our upcoming trip she reminded me that this weekend is the one year anniversary of the passing of our dear, dear friend Adam. Obviously we need to be together for this. Ergo, she's now coming with. We will drink, we will meet strangers from the internet in a non dating capacity and we will toast Adam again and again. We will also cry, but it's ok, it's raining in San Francisco so no one will notice. I miss Adam every damn day and I feel he would approve of this plan and somewhere he's laughing at the absurdity that is my life.

(I will inevitably be tweeting from SF so if you are bored and on the internet, this is me: www.twitter.com/ODDTwitter )

Tuesday, January 19, 2010


- I met someone on New Years Eve. To quote Liz he had more red flags than the Beijing Olympics, and truthfully he did. However, he was also very, very cute. As such we spent a few days holed up in my apartment, you know, discussing literature. The whole thing went on a few weeks but on Saturday night I pulled the plug. Sunday I moped and that was that. He still remains very, very cute, but China ran out of flags and thus I ran for the hills.

- Ava and I have discovered a wonderful tapas place that we go to on Monday nights post tango. The waitress there is adorable and we made friends with her. When driving there yesterday (having skipped tango as well, we wanted extra time with sangria) I asked Ava the waitresses name. Ava shrugged and said 'I'm horrible with names, I get so excited about saying 'Hi! I'm Ava!' that I don't really pay attention to what they're saying.' And this is why I love her.

- I may have proposed to a restaurant last night. That's how good these tapas are. Seriously, they are the only things that get me through Mondays. Also, we relearned the waitresses name and thanks to her I have discovered that I like sherry, and am now officially one step closer to being an old man. I think it's time to get a smoking jacket and just call it a day. Also, because of this I have 'Oh Sherry' by Journey stuck in my head. I've decided that if someone asks me a question I'll just start singing that until they leave.

- Last night I slept in 15 minute intervals. Today I'm super pleasant to be around and wide awake. OR trying to figure out how to shoot lasers out of my eyes and wearing slippers in the office. You choose which one is true. It's like those Choose Your Own Adventure books except significantly more boring.

- I think all weekends should be 3 days long. Someone should get on this, post haste. I nominate Chuck.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Wicked Smart

So sometimes I'm an idiot. Like a big, raving idiot who does stupid things and then posts about them on the internet so I can be all 'see, I'm lucky I don't have to wear a helmet'. Last night I proved this yet again.

Yesterday I had a crappy day. It started with my physical therapist gnawing off my leg and leaving bruises on me and ended with a waiter dumping a bowl of gravy in my lap. I was due to go to improv class but I was A) limping and B) smelled like Thanksgiving so I decided to pass. Ava was also having The Day From Hell so we decided that she would come over and I would make us some dinner. Part of said dinner would the inaugural run of my fancy new ice cream maker, a Christmas gift from Liz.

I stopped at the store and bought all of the ingredients for Bailey's ice cream, easily the best sounding frozen treat in the history of man kind. I went home, mixed up a batch, threw the machine together and hit start. It's one of these fancy no need for ice or salt machines. I figured it made the ice cream by magic or like really small frozen elves that live inside the machine. After 30 minutes I checked, expecting to see the finished product. What I found instead was well stirred Bailey's milk. It was then that I decided to read the directions for the machine.


Apparently there are no such things as tiny frozen elves. Instead you need to freeze the bowl for like 22 hours. That's what makes the cream all frozen and whatnot. Logical, right? And thus for dinner last night I served Hershey's kisses and Bailey's cream in glasses. I'm an awesome hostess.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

The Dance of Love

So, I started tango lessons last night. Apparently I thought it would be a super wise idea to do these lessons when I'm in a leg brace. You know, to add that extra element of sex appeal. I know what makes men hot under the collar. (hint: braces, talk of babies, pictures of my cats)

Anyway, I signed up for the class with my friends and for some reason in my head I would be dancing alone. I even said that to my friends when they asked if we would end up dancing with others. No, I insisted, we would be dancing alone just learning the steps. Cut to an hour into class and there is Ava, nestled in my chest as we tango across the floor. Apparently I am the dude in this relationship and also, I'm a very strong leader. Per her, I was the most masculine dancer in the class. What can I say? I lead my bitches with a firm hand.

Yeah. I think it's time to find a boyfriend. Or have prop 8 voted out so I can marry Ava.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Guns and Ammo

On Saturday I took Ava shooting for her belated Christmas present. She'd never shot a gun before so was a wee bit nervous (read: shaking). That lasted for about oh, 3 bullets. Then she was jumping up and down like a kid cracked out on cake. It was then that she decided that we should befriend the marines with assault rifles next to us.

Yep. The main one of which was clad in Ed Hardy, chewing tobacco and named Flod. Internet, you can not make this shit up.

Flod jumped at the chance to let two blonde girls with cameras shoot his crazy large and crazy expensive guns. And shoot we did. Dudes, if you get a chance to A) meet someone named Flod and B) shoot an assault rifle DO IT. It makes you feel like Rambo. I was seriously about a minute away from attempting to kick down doors and/or headbutting someone. Then I remembered that I bruise when someone looks at me too hard and so I put the gun down and went out for mimosas. However, that happened after I had this conversation:

Me: (shooting gun, bullet casing flies off and hits me in the cheek,leaving a streak)

Ava: Oh no! Here! Let me help. (she then spits on her finger and before I can stop her, wipes off the residue.

Me: Did you just mom spit bullet residue off my face?

Ava: I did. I also think that's probably the first time that sentence has ever been spoken.

Me: It's official, we're too close.

And then I cut my finger and left blood on the gun. BECAUSE I'M A BADASS. Or clumsy, whichever.

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

I Have Logical and Reasonable Goals

Yesterday I was IM'ing with Sera. I was in a mood because I had to again get up and put on pants. It's a wonder I have friends. This was our conversation:

Me: I want to move to France.

Her: It's very pretty there.

Me: Yes, and they have all of the bread and cheese.

Her: They also have great health care and 7 to 8 weeks of vacation a year.

Me: Yeah.... mostly going for the bread and cheese.

Her: What would you do there?

Me: Queen of France.

Her: You could probably find a job in your current field very easily.

Me: Or be Queen of France.

Her: You don't speak French.

Me: I do too! I can order a Diet Coke, ask where the bathroom is and say "I'm a lawyer".

Her: You're not a lawyer.

Me: Maybe I will be when I'm Queen of France.

Shockingly it was then that she needed to take a cigarette break.

Tuesday, January 05, 2010


Dudes, real life sucks. For the last 2.5 weeks I've been on vacation. I have slept in, then napped, and then made out with boys. AND IT WAS AWESOME.

Yesterday I had to wake up to an alarm and put on pants. Oh the horrors of having to put on pants. I then had to go fight traffic, go to an office, and pretend to be an adult. Being an adult sucks. For the last 16 days I was an awesome adult, however. I mixed my orange juice with champagne and had fudge for breakfast. I stayed out until 6AM and danced barefoot in bars. I also accidentally broke a sink off of a bathroom wall while doing a photoshoot. YEP. That totally actually happened.

But now I have to be responsible and all professional. I am however trying to ease back into that though. Because yesterday even though I had put on pants and was sitting upright at a desk I made my assistant come in to photograph my hickies.

I like 2010.