My Town is On Fire

In case you haven't heard there is a huge ass fire in LA currently burning up acres of land in Studio City and Universal City. I am fairly near there, but only near enough that I can look out my office windows and say "damn that's a lot of smoke", but not actually feel the heat. I have friends that aren't so lucky and are down the street from the fires. As I am paranoid in general, I am of course now determined that they are in danger and am encouraging them to quit their jobs if necessary and flee.

To add some irony to the day, my friend who works directly across the street from the fire received an email that his lot was not in danger and to stay in his building. The irony? The office that sent the message? They all left. Immediately after sending it. Fantastic.

There are many reasons I don't understand this town. One being that it's basically melting in a giant pool of flames and everyone is remarkably cool about it. They just keep on a'workin pretending they aren't flammable. (which reminds me of the mitch hedberg joke of "if you have two legs and are flammable, you are never blocking a fire exit", if you don't know who is he, for shame. The man is a genius). But honestly, I am shaking my head. A raging fire is eating up the Hollywood Hills as we speak and people are getting ready to roast marshmellows and not, oh say, run for their lives.

On a side note I put out a cake four hours ago and STILL it's untouched. Non sugar eating weirdos. Eat the cake! Run from fire! Two simple rules to live by.

100% Geek 100% of the Time

As I have mentioned before I treat my cats like my children as I have a small little life. They also think they are people and so it's reciprocated. They also think I am a giant pillow. This morning I woke up because not only could I not move but I could not feel either of my arms. One cat was stretched out on me, all along me. Like I was a hammock of sorts, with his little head digging directly into my rib cage. The other was stretched out along my arm. The other arm? I was sleeping on it. After I shook them off of me my alarm clock went off. That's when I realized my arms were both dead asleep and therefore completely useless. I tried to fling my arms across my body, it was a no go, they were simply piles of rubber. I started to panic not only because in my half asleep mind I had decided I would never regain control of my limbs and have to live without arms but also because I have one of those alarm clocks that starts off soft and then gets ridiculously loud. It was, by now, waking people four towns over. So there I am, two dead arms, trying to twist them somehow up to turn off the alarm. It didn't work. I finally pulled a MacGyver and turned it off with my chin. This was an excellent way to start my day. I rule.

Last night was my last cake decorating class, which was sad. Not only because I don't have an excuse to eat icing once a week, but because again, I am all skill and grace. The last cake we made was supposed to look like a basket full of flowers. We learned how to make roses and then she let us start decorating. Rose number one complete, so pretty. I went to delicately put it on the cake and it slide off the rose nail and directly into my lap. Bullseye. Oh, and the icing was florescent pink, so my jeans now have a certain spot on the crotch that is kinda noticeable. I move on. Second rose fell off the knife and onto the floor. The third, I think had knowledge of the fate that laid before it i.e. crotch or floor, so it basically disintegrated. My instructor said she had never seen anything like it. I'm a special case. So finally I made one that made it to my cake, and then gave up. So my "basket full of flowers" is a basket with a single flower and me standing in the background doing jazz hands.

On to the I Hate LA portion of the blog that has become protocol. Last week in my class we decorated cupcakes. Being as I didn't want 12 elaborately decorated cupcakes sitting in my house I took them to work. I walked around offering them to people and it was as though I had offered to kill their children and pour some acid on them. The looks of disgust followed quickly by a hissed "I don't eat sugar" were enough to break a girl's heart. My boss' assistant finally took one. Throughout the day I saw her staring at it, visibly drooling. About once an hour she would break down, reach out a trembling finger, and take a small swipe of icing. She closed her eyes and savored it. She got through about half the frosting before she threw the rest of the cupcake away and told me she was going to have to do an extra couple of miles on the treadmill. Seriously? No...seriously? She consumed maybe an extra 50 calories but I may as well have brought Armaggedon into her home. Ergo, my fake basket cake is currently sitting in my refrigerator because I just can't see it turned away. I miss people who eat. I won't go as far to say I miss the Midwest, but at least I know they would have taken the cake and actually enjoyed it.

Good times people, good times.

Nights Like These

Sunday night and I should be winding down, watching my favorite reality show and preparing for a day in the office. I don't think that's possible at this time though. I have too much wine in my system and too many thoughts waiting.

Tonight started out innocuous enough. A friend and I went shopping and intended to see a movie. After browsing one shop and seeing one of the world's super models up close (who knew she shopped in the Gap? oh and not fair, the woman glows without make up) we realized we were hungry. We headed off to a lounge in the open air mall for a quick bite. The quick bite quickly turned into 3 appetizers and a total of 8 glasses of wine, 4 a piece. During the five hours we spent in the lounge we discussed everything. It's days like this, where the mood is light, that you end up touching on areas that are dark. From her brother's and my father's deaths, looming questions and stupid gossip, I feel like we covered everything topic. And now my mind is going 90 miles an hour with no signs of stopping. Stuff I didn't know existed was brought up and dissected.

I think it's time to curl up and try to sort some things out. Maybe by the time I wake up I will have some answers. Even if I don't, I think I may be ok with that. At least I know now that the questions exist. Oy, too heavy for a Sunday, at least I know that.

A lighter post to come soon, you have my word. Girl Scout honor.

Giant Pile of Suck

That's life as of late. A giant pile of suck. Have you ever had one of those times where you just want to put all of your stuff in a wheelbarrow, head off to the mountains and just live alone a la Jerimiah Johnson? Except with cats? Nope...just me? Gotcha. Well as of now that is my back up plan. Except instead of wheelbarrow substitute gas guzzeling SUV. I am about thisclose to having a breakdown and pulling a Britney. I would have done it a few days ago except I really like my hair and don't want lips tattooed on my wrist. Le sigh. As my mom says this too shall pass, and it passes much more quickly with a glass of cheap wine and a box of Peeps for dinner. I love those little sugary fuckers.

Back to what I was going to originally post about, grocery shopping in LA. In LA people don't go to grocery stores to actually buy food. They go to be seen. They wander around chatting on their cellphones holding a little basket with a single apple in it. If you dare put actual food in your own basket you get stared at, open mouthed. I once trailed a person to see if she actually put anything in her cart. In the 30 to 45 minutes I was in the store she put cheese in her cart, took it out, debatted over apples but didn't buy any and finally decided on a 6 pack of diet coke. She did however have a very in depth conversation about how she needs a new agent because this one just doens't realize her potential.

I went to the grocery store on Sunday night thinking this would be the ideal time to avoid the done up masses. I was wrong. I walked in wearing ripped jeans, a hoodie that is holding itself together out of sheer will and a side pony. It looked like the cast of America's Next Top Model had exploded all over my local Ralph's. This is in no way an exaggeration. In line I stood between two models. Not models like hey, that's a nice looking girl, she could do some catalogue work for Sears, but models as in, hey, didn't I see you in the Victoria Secrets ad the other day? It's enough to give a girl a complex. Especially when they are only buying lettuce, sa single carrot and diet water. I was however loaded up on Cap'n Crunch (the peanut butter kind) and mac and cheese. Oh yeah, I had lettuce too, but that's mearly a side dish to my "i still have a cold and therefore and hosting Carb A Palooza" dinner.

Next time I head to buy some paper towels I will make sure I am in a black tie dress and a full face of make up. Maybe then I'll blend.

Warm and Fuzzy

This morning I was gently rocked awake to the sound of my cat vommiting at the foot of my bed. He loves his mommy.

While I do in fact love my cats and treat them more like children than animals, I do not enjoy the piles of vomit they leave for me as presents. Especially at 6:30 in the morning. Could he have not coordinated with my alarm clock? Of course not. I am just grateful that it was at the foot of my bed and not actually on my bed. Or me. Both of those have happened previously and I am hoping to not relive those experiences ever again.

Last night with the aid of serious amounts of DayQuil I was able to make it to my first cake class, for the first hour at least. After the first hour thinks get reallllll hazy like and I had to excuse myself. Behold...my first cake. As you can see I am a very mature artist and culinary technician.



Oh and to the anon comment who said that I get ill more than any person you have ever met....I know, if it were the 1800's I would have died long ago. I am a delicate flower.

The Martian Flu

I am sick, cough cough. Instead of sleeping all day and getting better I am basically just working from home. I am fielding calls and answering emails. Apparently for my company "sick day" means, a day we take from your allotment but still expect you to work. The second I turn off the BlackBerry my home phone rings. For this I shake my fist, weakly.

I truly have nothing interesting to say, it's sad really. Unless of course you want to hear about the America's Next Top Model and Top Chef marathons I have watched this week. It's very exciting I assure you.

I had plans for the weekend but I think I have cancelled them all by now. Instead I will stay inside, bemoan my state and possibly clean. I am officially my mother and upon this realization really need a drink. Wine totally mixes with DayQuil, right?

The Recap, Lite

I have been asked to do a recap of the months missing from the blog. I assure you, it's really not that interesting. I am however working on it and should have one in a few days. However, just to clear the record, I didn't leave because of negative comments. Love me, hate me, think I suck at life, whatever, I can take it. The issue became the fact that someone used this blog and tried to ruin me. This person read the blog from beginning to end 3 times (thanks site tracker!) and pulled details. They used these details to in essence, fuck with my head, ruin my relationship and destroy me. Ergo, I stopped blogging. It was really hard but at the time it was the right decision for me. I am still hesitant to write and am basically just putting my big toe back in the water, testing things out.

The only reason I am back is this blog was mine. I loved it, still do. I loved the exercise of writing, the community of people here and making people laugh. Taking it down not only took away my outlet, but it gave her the power. If this person resurfaces I will deal with the ramifications, perhaps change who can add comments. I am not sure at this point. I am calling it the grand experiment, and thus far, I like it. Wish me luck.

13 Going On...87

I am the first to admit I am a little weird. Perfect example is this week. Monday I went with a friend while she got some amazing tattoos, yesterday I went to a Christina Aguilera concert and today, today I took a cake decorating class.

The Christina concert was amazing. It's a given the girl can sing and that the theatrics were fantastic, but what made the concert was the section I was seated in. I have a knack of getting tickets in the most eclectic section humanly possible. Look for the section that looks somehow off, and I will be there dead center. So last night it was my friend and I, behind us were a 45 year old couple and in front of us were two men. The two men however, were very very straight. It was something of a head scratcher. I can't imagine a male friend of mine calling up his BFF and demanding they get expensive seats to see Xtina. I developed a theory that it was A) a dare or B) one of the dudes had broken up with his girlfriend and when she asked for the tickets he decided to stick it to her and screamed out, fuck you, I'm taking Steve! Poor Steve was obviously miserable. He was on his Blackberry most of the night, which isn't uncommmon in LA, but generally not in a 150 dollar concert seat. He did occassionally glance up and give a weak smile while the Pussycat Dolls performed but that was it. Side note, I want to have a serious sit down conversation with who ever makes their costumes. Really was 2 dollar hooker with a odd horse tail sown on ass the only original look they could come up with? Horrible. But I digress.

The couple behind us, on first glance, looked like parents who had accompanied their pre teen daughters to the show. That glance would be wrong. They were on a date, he knew every word to Genie in a Bottle which he sung loudly, and this fact? It turned her on. I know this because every time I turned my head I had to watch one of them feel the other up. I tried not to turn my head often. The dissappeared roughly half way through the show to "walk around the compound". They never returned. It is my theory they got caught somewhere doing very inappropriate things and not only scared some 13 year old who found them, but were escorted out. It was a night full of theories and I like 'em.

Tonight was my first cake decorating class. I somehow always find classes that are again, somehow off. Tonight was shockingly no different. After making the trek to Burbank I sat at the table with a bunch of other 20 something women and one married couple. I felt bad for the dude who would clearly rather be individually plucking out his eyelashes than be there, he looked pained. Who knew so many 20 year old women wanted to learn fancy cake techniques? I thought it would be me and a bus from the senior center. The best part was the instructor. She explained to us that her sister usually teaches the class but had been called away to volunteer with the Red Cross. She had never taught this class before. For an hour I watched her mutter into a bowl of frosting. She iced a cake and then served it to us. No fancy techniques. Just you know, put frosting on cake, smooth....ta da. The 2 hour class was thankfully cut down to just 45 minutes. It did however feel like 2 hours and that's what counts. Next week apparently we will actually learn something about cake decorating. The purpose of tonight's class is beyond me. On the plus side I am remarkably full of cake. Yay for cake.

Red, Red Wine

As much time as I spend hating LA, I also begrudgingly love it. It's something of an unhealthy relationship, but for now it works for me. This weekend was an excellent mixture of the two.

Saturday I picked up a friend who is in town and we hit the road to go down to Venice. By hit the road I of course mean sat parked on the 101 for 30 minutes. Parked. If I thought peeling off my own skin and running through the streets would help speed traffic up, hand to god, I would have done it. My friend sat beside me, open mouthed and shocked. She finally whispered "Is it always like this?" and I nodded, a tear in my eye and said, yes. Finally traffic moved and we were able to get up to a respectable 20 mph. An hour later we had driven the 15 miles and arrived at the beach. It was gorgeous. We went to one of my favorite restaurants, C & O Trattoria. The reason it's my favorite isn't because the food is all that good, it's because the atmosphere is great and they have free, unlimited garlic knots. And for those who know me I would go to the ends of the earth for bread, especially bread topped with garlic. We had a long and wonderful lunch, lots of wine, pasta and easily 19 lbs of garlic knots. Those are the best kind of lunches, hours spent with a good glass of wine and good conversation. It just feels decedant. Food comas set in and we took a walk down the pier and just stared at the water for awhile.

Later that night I met another friend to go to a photography exibition and meet her new boy. Ah, young love. The show was smaller than we expected so we were mostly standing around and decided we were starving. We hopped in our cars and went to fantastic tapas place. Since the restaurant is located in LA, and every restaurant here is a fusion, this was American tapas. The best one? Mac and cheese in a parmesean cup. Lots of wine and lots and lots of cheese. More cheese than I have ever consummed in one sitting which is quite possibly a new Guinness book record. I think today I am composed entirely of dairy. It's attractive, I assure you.

The best part of the evening actually happened when I was stuck in traffic on the way home. I was zoning out and looked in the car beside me. Inside the lexus were 4 guys dressed like pirates. They had gone all out, head scarfs, eye patches and swords. We stared back and forth for a moment and then traffic started to move. I saluted them and two of them took off their hats and did an elaborate car bow. It was impressive and the perfect nightcap.

Today has been spent lounging and recovering. It was an excellent weekend, and if my neighbor wasn't directy outside my window tuning up his motorcycle and revving his engine, I would have entirely forgotten why I hate LA. But that sadly wasn't meant to be.

Here I Go Again

I wish I hadn’t stopped writing. Seriously. I miss it every day. I see something funny, such as Ron Jeremy driving a Maxima while eating a hot dog, and I want to write about it but I don’t. I tried once but, oof, it’s not like riding a bike and you don’t remember how. It came out stilted and awkward. I’m sure this will as well but you know, at this point I say screw it. Maybe the flow will come back with time. Maybe it won’t and I will forever be the awkward writing girl. As I am generally awkward in every other part of my life I feel like it fits.

So let’s get down to it. The last oh say 8 months of my life have been interesting, chaotic, transformative, horrible, gut wrenching and at times, wacky, how have you been? And thus the end of the formalities.

So here I am, your ODD, currently in a hotel room in Florida. I have relocated myself and my two cats to Los Angeles (more on why I am in Florida later). There is a boy in my life but out of respect for him I am not going to mention him or my relationship, maybe one day he’ll consent to it but for now he has asked that I delicately “keep him the hell out of this.” And so, I for one of the first times in my life, am obliging. I am trying to be less difficult, not sure how that will go, but we’ll call it a grand experiment.

I moved to LA in September and have not fully adapted. I am trying, really and truly, but it’s not my kind of town. Everything you see and read about LA? Yeah, it’s all true. The size 8 jeans I bought were the obese size, I have never talked more about film and Britney Spears in my entire life, and dear lord there are a lot of women with big breasts. This town, in short, makes me afraid for humanity. I actually feel myself losing intellect day by day. And still, I stay. I am something of a glutton for punishment.

My first job out here for was a cult. It wasn’t technically a cult just one of the “religious” organizations that all the stars flock to. Unfortunately the only star I met was one from Dawson’s Creek and no, it wasn’t her. The job was 2.9 miles from my apartment and was a 40 minute drive on bad days. I could have actually crawled on my face and made better time. I controlled their website and marketing and one day I realized that my job was in fact to get more people to join the cult and give up their life savings. This was not a good feeling. When the leader drove up in his new 95,000 dollar car and his wife emerged wearing Chloe head to toe, I knew it was time to go.

Now I work for a big time show biz company. You’ve heard of us, trust me. And this new job is why in fact I am in Florida. It’s also the reason I decided to go back to the blog. Tonight I had a business dinner that left me feeling, well, stupid. I was telling a story to the person seated next to me, we were laughing and having a good time, when suddenly all eyes were on us. The man next to me said something about how my story was funny and asked me to repeat it to the group. Let's just say, I didn't feel like it went over well with the higher ups at the table. For the first time in a long time I came home embarrassed of who I am. I will always be, to some, a little too loud, a little too gregarious, too animated, too fat, too blonde, too something. In New York that was ok. Because I think most people there are also a “little too”. That doesn’t really fly in the well-toned world of LA. And in front of this table, I felt like an ass. I cried on the phone to the boy and he reminded me that I am in fact not shit. That sure, my boss may chastise me tomorrow for dominating the conversation for a moment, and so be it, maybe it’s a lesson learned. But I yam who I yam, and who I am is a storyteller. Good or bad, it’s me, and so I return. There are probably no readers left and that’s ok, I just need an outlet, a place to tell a story and get it out.

And thus, let the story begin.