Your Little Baby Sister's Gonna Lose Her Mind

Intervention Lyrics

Going to see these guys tonight. I'm counting down the minutes. I've waited months for this. And to see them play at the Hollywood Bowl, well, it's almost too much to take.
Tomorrow I predict I will be emotionally spent, sleepy and possibly a tad hungover. It's ok though, I just have to work. =)

Saturday is Yom Kippur. And to repent for my sins I will be running around L.A like a madwoman, taking my boots to the cobbler, doing laundry, paying bills, filling prescriptions and then breaking the "fast" with my family. I'm glad I'll get to spend some time with them before we leave.

Monday is our two year anniversary. I'm thinking we should go to Electric Lotus, the site of our first date. That night Hubbie ordered the platter for two, which was more like four, and since I was so nervous I could barely eat. I took most of it home. After dinner we got in his car but couldn't decide what to do so we just sat and talked.

With the car running and the heater on.

For at least two hours.

When we finally left he was down a half a tank of gas.

When Hubbie dropped me off he didn't get out of the car to walk me to my door. So I kind of lingered in the car wondering how to say goodbye. Was I supposed to hug him across the seat? Peck on the cheek? Wave as I got out? No way!

As I recall it, I went to say goodnight with a kiss on the cheek(ish) and that turned into another hour of smooching. Hubbie recalls a much different scenario, saying I was STRADDLING him in the car. Um, sorry honey, that just didn't happen. First of all, I wouldn't have fit on top of you with the steering wheel behind me. Second, it's ME we're talking about, not Jenna Jameson. I wait til' the third date to straddle.

Despite our conflicting stories, we both agree that we really hit it off right away, and have been inseparable ever since. Seven and a half years later! Happy almost anniversary honey. I love you.

The Accidental Foodie

Saturday night Hubbie and I had tickets to see Dana Gould at the Imvprov. When I bought the tickets, the website suggested we arrive an hour and a half early to eat in their dining room and we'd get preferred seating. Since I love Dana Gould and have never been to the Improv, I told Hubbie that would be our plan. In fact, I actually said to him, "I mean, how bad could the food be? It's the Hollywood Improv!"

Bet you know where this post is going.

We arrived an hour and a half early, to be seated in an empty dining room. Apparently we were the only suckers that fell for the "dine with us" line. We each ordered a drink and opened the menu. Two whole pages of deep fried food. Fried calamari, fried chicken strips, fried buffalo wings, french fries, fried chicken sandwich, fried mozzarella sticks and fried Caesar salad. Ok I made the last one up but I swear the only items not deep fried on the menu were the double burger and two pasta dishes.

While we looked at the menu and looked at each other, an order came out and was served to a few people at the bar. It looked and smelled like cafeteria food. And not the good Clifton's kind, I mean the gross Hometown Buffet kind.

It was then I decided to make a break for it. I told Hubbie to suck down his drink and we'd eat across the street. From my chair I could see a restaurant with twinkle lights and open tables by the open windows. It was called Chocolat, and I wanted to go. Hubbie was reluctant. Nevertheless, he paid the tab for our drinks and after some mild attitude by the waiter, we excused ourselves and said we'd be back for the show.

Across the street we walk into Chocolat, which was virtually empty. I'd say four of the fifteen tables were filled and two of the empties were set for a large crowd. I look at Hubbie and wink, "hey, we're in luck! It's empty! See! It was a good idea to leave!"

"Table for two please" I say with a smile.

Two beady eyes glare back at me. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Er, no. Do we need one???"

"Sorry ma'am, we are all booked up for the night" says the host, looking out at the sea of open tables.

"I'm sorry? But you have nothing available? We'll eat fast! We have a show to catch across the street. We'll sit anywhere!" Now I'm sounding a little frantic.

He still denied us! What a jerk! I felt like I was in a Seinfeld episode. What did we do wrong? Did we snub him by just wandering in off the street? Were we not dressed properly? Did we look like dine n' ditchers??? This is Los Angeles for god's sake. The city where people go to Crustacean in sweats!

Beginning to doubt my decision to leave the deep fried palace, I convince Hubbie that if we just walk down Melrose, we're sure to bump into something. After all, Ago is just a few blocks down and so is Dolce. Immediately Hubbie refuses Dolce and says something about not wanting to put one more dollar in Ashton Kutcher's pocket. That, and the fact that the restaurant is filled with wannabes and drunk girls with fake boobs. It kinda puts you off your food.

So we keep walking. And walking, and walking. Hey, who's that guy walking toward us picking food out of his teeth? Oh my god! It's Dana Gould! Where did he eat? Why is he alone? Think he could get us into Chocolat???

Two blocks ahead we stumble into a brightly lit modern space with Japanese anime projected on screens above the sushi bar. It's called Kumo, and we were told it had just opened the night before. Which, as we all know, could spell catastrophe.

In this instance it turned out to be great. Hot and cold dishes, full bar, signature drinks, beautiful leather chairs and friendly service. Since it was our first visit and the waitress was still unfamiliar with the entire menu, we just went with our gut. (Ha ha. Get it? Two points for the corny pun.)

The waitress explained the dishes on the menu were only two or three bites big; somewhat like Spanish tapas. She also said they come out fast, so order a couple at a time and eat til you're full. I was so upset I was caught without my camera. Hubbie was thrilled. He gets really embarrassed when I take pictures of food.

We started with yellowtail sashimi, spicy tuna stuffed jalapenos and ahi tuna w/ fried sweet potato. Then we ordered some warm dishes. Baked miso cod, seared scallops and truffle mashed potatoes. Mmmmmmmm. So much better than mozzarella sticks. I washed my meal down with a Grey Goose martini served perfectly cold and salty. We probably could have stopped there but went ahead and ordered a crab and lobster roll, which at $24.00 was a bit of a splurge but oh, so tasty!

With tip and my drink our tab came to about $150.00. Not exactly a bargain. But with fantastic service, ambiance and food in that location, not too bad. I imagine once the word spreads we won't be able to just walk in on a Saturday night. Especially since I just found out it's owned by Mike Ovitz, of CAA fame.

With our bellies full of fish we had a great time watching Dana Gould. Here's a clip of him if you want a giggle.

IMPORTANT!

From the AP, By ERICA BULMAN, Associated Press Writer:
The most common type of gorilla is now "critically endangered," one step away from global extinction, according to the 2007 Red List of Threatened Species released Wednesday by the World Conservation Union. The Ebola virus is depleting Western Gorilla populations to a point where it might become impossible for them to recover. Commercial hunting, civil unrest and habitat loss due to logging and forest clearance for palm oil plantations are compounding the problem, said the Swiss-based group known by its acronym IUCN. "Great apes are our closest living relatives and very special creatures," Russ Mittermeier, head of IUCN's Primate Specialist Group, told The Associated Press. "We could fit all the remaining great apes in the world into two or three large football stadiums. There just aren't very many left."

I can't describe how upsetting this is to me. I can't even read the whole article because I keep crying. Check out this site and please do what you can to save the gorillas. I'm sorry I had to jump on my soapbox again but this is really important. Please donate what you can and spread the word. Gorillas are amazing creatures and very much like us. It's our responsibility to make sure they thrive.

The Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund

This Week So Far...

Well, it's only Tuesday but I have news, news, news! For one, my company, (more specifically the owner and lead Director of my company,) won an EMMY for Outstanding Directing for the AMEX/ Ellen Degeneres spots. Yay!

You've seen them I'm sure. The ones with all the animals as her coworkers. And the one where I was faxed the woodpecker's contract. You haven't had a giggle until you see what a woodpecker's day rate is.

He came in holding the statue and let us all ogle it before thanking each one of us for our participation in the win. Then he set the statue on the Production Manager's desk for the rest of the day. (For those of you who work in production, you know the UPM has pretty much the hardest job next to... well, no one in my opinion.)

This is what it looks like!
In other work-related news, Mr. Feesh, my savior at the office, has got new digs! I bought him a new tank and gravel! "Well we're movin' on up, mooooooovin on up..."

He's got a swingin' new bachelor pad to swim in and it looks very DWELL if you don't mind me saying. I put in his favorite "tree" and his very first "plant" and tomorrow will add the new shell I bought for him to get some privacy. (He is quite the ladies man.)

Here's Feesh's new crib, sans the shell.
The more I look at this, the more I realize I need help in the ole' photo department. I take the worst pictures of him!

Speaking of crappy pictures, this week has been filled with culinary adventures. But I can't quite capture yuminess on film. Trust me when I say I made two knock-out meals this week, and again, it's only Tuesday!

Our friends "the Moneys" just returned from Rome and Florence, and Callie brought me some spices to make my own marinara sauce. I was a bit intimidated since the directions read a little something like this:

Fry up bacon.
Add spices and saute for 5 minutes.
Add tomatoes and sauce.

A far cry from the very detailed recipes I'm used to on Epicurious and Foodnetwork. How many tomatoes? Canned or fresh? Is the sauce separate? What else do I add and for how long do I cook it?

But this little Italian girl ended up making a DELICIOUS sauce with perfect consistency and flavor. I sauteed up some prosciutto, (since I didn't have pancetta and I'm sure the recipe didn't mean Oscar Meyer bacon,) and added the spices. Then I added a large can of diced tomatoes, a small can of tomato sauce, about a tablespoon of tomato paste, salt and just let it simmer. Then I seasoned according to taste. A little sugar here, a little oregano there. Some chili flakes because Hubbie likes it spicy. It turned out fantastic and I felt like I made my Italian grandmother proud.

Here's what my first attempt at homemade sauce looked like:


Tonight I made my famous turkey burgers. Despite what my mother would say, turkey burgers can be superb. Sometimes even better that regular hamburgers. And healthier! Even though this isn't a food blog, I'm just so damned impressed with this recipe I've concocted, I thought I'd share it with you valued readers. It couldn't be easier AND it's Weight Watchers friendly.

1 lb - 1.25 lb of ground turkey breast
3-4 roasted red peppers packed in oil, diced
1 pkg of non-fat feta cheese (Feel free to use regular if you're not on a diet like me.)
1 tbs of lemon pepper (More if you like. I use a lot.)
Salt & pepper to taste. (Sea salt is best.)

Mix together all the ingredients and divide into four burgers. Spray a non-stick pan with Pam, (or if you're not on a diet and can afford the calories bitches, use olive oil.) Fry the burgers about 4-5 minutes a side, ensuring they are done by pressing the spatula on the center. Should be firm. Nobody likes undercooked turkey. Nobody likes a visit to the ER either.

Serve burgers with your choice of condiments. The usual suspects: lettuce, tomato, pickle and mayo are good but feel free to be adventurous. Chopped Spanish olives or some capers instead of pickle is tasty as well. For those of you starving, ahem, I mean dieting like me....... you can use a WonderLight bun and fat free mayo, making the burger only 7 points. Without mayo, 6! (But I loves me some mayo so I'll take the extra point thank you very much.)

Here's a picture of what my burger looked like:


Again, sorry for the craptastic picture. I'm working on it. I'm thinking I'll be adding a few more foodie things to the blog so feel free to add your two cents. Recipes, suggestions etc.

Ok, finally have a sec....

So, we attended a wedding last weekend in Minnesota. Farmington, Minnesota to be exact. Alex and Hubbie have been friends since High School so it was a mandatory function.

For once it wasn't a wedding that I was in.

In fact, it was a group I was entirely unfamiliar with.

We arrived Minneapolis an hour and a half late! Just enough time to grab our bags, grab our rental car, and speed through the corn fields to Mt. Olivet Christian Retreat Center; which was the location of all the wedding festivities. I pull in, let Hubbie out to run to the rehearsal and go to the front desk to check us in.

The basket of bug spray next to the six foot cross should have clued me in to what kind of weekend we were in for, but I ignored it and got our keys from the clerk. I pulled the car around, managed to lug all of our bags into the "dorm" and unlocked the door to our room.


No TELEVISON. No PHONE. No CELL PHONE SERVICE.

NO ALCOHOL ALLOWED ON "PREMISES".

Ahem. Alrighty then.

I unpack and take a shower in DEET bug spray, put on my dress for the rehearsal dinner and leave the "dorm" to find the others. I realize when I step outside that my friend Jeanie, (who's from Minnesota,) wasn't kidding about the state bird being the mosquito. Holy *%^& !!!

I met up with the wedding party and we had a lovely bbq dinner. Lit a bonfire, shared travel stories, inquired how we were all related etc. etc. etc. Then it was time for bed, (according to the group,) at 8:00pm.

Ummmmmm ok. Hubbie and I hop in the batmobile and head to the nearest liquor store, (15 miles, two bunnies and a squirrel away,) for a bottle of wine and some snacks.

Come back to the dorm with Doritos and Argentinean wine and we read, eat, drink, talk, read, drink, sleep. Hubbie has to be up at 8:00am for pictures. FUN FOR HIM!

The wedding ceremony was held on a beautiful green lawn, about a fifteen minute hike from the dorms. Seeing as I had only packed heels, (I'm from Los Angeles give me a break,) I end up wearing my leopard print flats that I wore on the plane. Not the best hiking shoes but they did the job.

The ceremony was romantic, inspiring and very Christian. In fact, part of the ceremony asked that the congregation take communion. Which I did. I didn't think twice about it. My dad was Catholic and I really don't see the harm in observing a tradition. Apparently my mom thought I was being sacrilegious.

Really?

I'm a Jew and I wouldn't be offended if a Christian was asked to hold the Torah, or recite a prayer. Her point was that by taking communion, you are accepting the body and blood of Christ. I guess I looked at it as a ritual that I could partake in, but I would never want to offend anyone of faith. In fact, the opposite!

So anyway, I took communion but didn't cross myself. Hubbie made a joke that the wafer would crackle and pop like PopRocks candy when I took it. Nothing of the sort happened. No lightning either. This Jew is down with the Lutherans.

After the ceremony we had a long brunch and reception filled with French and Norwegian dances. Lots of love and laughter. But no booze. Only Perrier and lemonade. And coffee. (Sigh.)

Saturday night we headed to the big city, (Minneapolis,) to take a tour through a sculpture garden and have cocktails. We had a great time getting to know the rest of the guests and having COCKTAILS!


Sunday Hubbie and I headed to the world famous Minnesota State Fair! We ate savory crepes, pork chops on a stick, deep fried CHEESE CURDS and a root beer float. For all of you who have never experienced the deep fried CHEESE CURD, it is quite the delicacy. Almost like fried mozzarella but with more chewiness. DEEEELISSHHH.

The best part of the day was going in the "butterfly tent" for some one on one action. We paid $3.00 to walk in a tent with thousands of butterflies of all different species to just enjoy, watch and even let them land on you if they chose. A few took a liking to Hubbie and I.

It was amazing. Such beautiful creatures. Everyone in the tent was mesmerized.

Including me- this one didn't want to leave me! (Please ignore the eye booger.)


Unfortunately, we had a plane to catch and had to leave the lovely fair and the beautiful state of Minnesota. Two days just wasn't enough. My grandma was born in St. Paul, and all I've ever heard about the state is that "IT'S COLLLLLLLDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!" My grandma literally walked uphill in the snow to school.

Eh, OK. I get it. It gets cold. But this weekend was lovely.

We get to the airport and as usual, Hubbie would like to smoke up until they're boarding. So our ritual for air travel is I go through security solo, while he smokes, and he meets me at the nearest bar. Just so happens, the bar nearest to our gate is empty, except for Matt Sorum. (Former drummer of The Cult and Guns N' Roses, current drummer of Velvet Revolver.)

Who I've met before through my hairdresser.

He looks over to me while on he's on the phone with Slash, (who I MAY HAVE.... in my teen years.... wallpapered my bedroom with pictures of....., ) and smiles.

When he hangs up we (he) realizes our connection and we start chatting. Then my phone rings- it's Hubbie.

"Yeah, I'm in the bar. As usual. Yes, the one closest to the gate. Yes. Ok, you'll find me!!! Bye!"

Hubbie walks in the bar....

"Hubbie, this is Matt. Matt this is Hubbie."

"Hey man, ................... OH, oh, hey man" =)

The three of us had a great chat before our flight. Matt could not be a nicer guy and was as sincere and sweet as he looks. It's not often one runs into a rock star in the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport, and to run into Matt Sorum, who is interesting and engaging and all the things you wish a rock star would be when you bug them in an airport bar..... well, ............it was just awesome.

Flight home was uneventful. Sat between a pilot, a priest and a girl reading a bible. I felt pretty safe.

Labor Day Monday we spent at my parents house with friends and partied til' the sun came down. It was also a send off for my best friend and her husband on their "around the world in a year" trip. Step-dad makes the best BBQ and margaritas in the state. Ya'll wish you were there.

So many laughs.

I wish Jen & Tom a safe, inspiring trip that will last a lifetime. I love you both.

Also, best wishes to the newlyweds. Thanks for the opportunity for this Valley Girl to get out of the city and see where her grandma grew up. We had a blast.

So much to say, no time to write it

Work is nuts.

Went to wedding in Minnesota last weekend.

At a Christian retreat.

Expect post about that later.

Best friend left for South America Tuesday night.

Didn't actually arrive until today due to two flight delays and a motel stay in Panama.

Speaking of which, I leave for Argentina in exactly one month.

Holy shit.

Peace out.

I can't stop laughing...

This is just so perfect!

Your Personality Is Like Acid

A bit wacky, you're very difficult to predict. One moment you're in your own little happy universe... And the next, you're on a bad trip to your own personal hell!

What Drug Is Your Personality Like?

So appropriate. However, I've never had a bad trip on acid. When others were seeing Satan and wondering if the trip would EVER END, I always had a big fat smile on my face and enjoyed every minute. I remember laughing til tears rolled down my face, seeing dancing mariachis on the ceiling, and my personal favorite, being outside and FEELING nature. You haven't lived til you've watched the waves roll onto the beach on acid. (Well that's a bit of an exaggeration but it really is cool!)

Now, I did have a minor freak out the time I decided I could drive down Highway 5, in the rain, after a Dead show, in the middle of the night, on a two lane road. FRYING. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best decision to get behind the wheel. I'll never forget my friend Susan, (who never took drugs,) whispering, "Umm, sweetie? I think you need to speed up."

I was going thirty five miles an hour on an interstate highway. Whoops! We ended up pulling off somewhere near the Oregon/California border. I recall going to an IHOP type restaurant where I ordered hot chocolate and tried to pull my shit together. I think Susan had a full breakfast with the works and I was kind of grossed out. As anyone who has done acid can attest, food is the last thing you want to see. Well, that and a mirror.

Oh the stupid decisions you make when you're 19. Today I think twice before driving on a half a zanax.

I guess the point of this post is NOT that it's ok to take hallucinogens and drive. Not at all. But I don't regret ever having taken them. In fact, I have some pretty beautiful memories tied to acid. Some great laughs, revelations, sights, songs and love. (I know, the deadhead in me is coming out. Someone cue the Hair Soundtrack.)

I could never do them again, but I'm glad I have the memories. Peace!

Funky little rhyme about a b*tch or two

Today I listened to Eazy-E's "Eazy-Duz-It" album for the first time in, oh I don't know....... FIFTEEN YEARS. I double click on the first song, "Still Talkin' " and found myself astonished that I still knew every word. Sitting at at my desk I was instantly transported back to High School. I sang along to the entire song, word for word, OUT LOUD.

Can you imagine a more pathetic scene? A thirty something career woman sitting at her computer singing, "Tell yo' momma to get off of my tip, I have no time to give her my d*ck."

Sigh. I can't believe I listened to this stuff growing up. What a poseur. I was driving around in a white convertible rabbit with a perm wearing Keds, listening to a rapper describe killing gang members, selling drugs and screwing hookers. Ummmmm, kinda lame in retrospect.

But I do love this album. And I love the memories it brings back. In fact, I once saw Eazy E. My friends and I ran into him at Jerry's Deli on Ventura of all places. There Eazy was, with his possee at a Jewish deli in the valley. My friends and I screamed and cooed and giggled all the way back to the car. I dropped my keys on the way out and he actually picked them up and handed them to me. Eazy was actually a nice guy!

I wonder how much street cred he lost with Dre when he ordered matzo ball soup and a knish?

My Week In A Nutshell

Hubbie and I had a conversation last weekend where he called me a pessimist. Really? Am I? Maybe I am. I like to think of myself as a realist. I believe in logic, science, proof, experience. But reading the last few posts, I dunno, am I a pessimist?

This week blows. Maybe I'm in a funk.

I started this blog hoping to write my experiences with witty posts that the reader can relate to; or at least leave the reader laughing. Or pensive. Or in agreement!

What I'm finding is that I've lately been writing to vent. And so, here goes. Another vent.

I'm annoyed a lot of the time. I've been so irritable lately. Life in general is just taking it's toll. I wish I had the energy to make this post witty in some way but really I just have to get this crap off my chest.

I have anxiety. A lot. I have all these thoughts of where I'm supposed to be, where I should have made better decisions, where I should have put my foot down. And these thoughts haunt me. And carrying all these feelings, I found a box of "memories" in my parents garage last weekend.

I found the music box my grandfather gave me that plays Sunrise Sunset. I found a short story I wrote in 4th grade that, (in my humble opinion,) was pretty damn good. I found pictures of a more innocent time. I found letters from my dad. And that pushed me over the edge.

I thought I'd come to a peaceful place 12 years after his suicide. But apparently the therapy and two rehabs haven't cured me of the aching pain that surfaces when I really think about him. And I wonder if it will ever go away.

The letters I found were written to me when I went on a six week trip around the U.S with a group of teens. I was fourteen. My relationship with him at that point was that of your typical teenager, but somewhat different. I lived with my mom and step-dad. I spent every other weekend with him and his new wife. I guess I always admired him, because he was my dad, but it was different than my other friends.

When he wore Converse shoes to my Bat Mitzvah AND Sweet 16, I was embarrassed. In a sense. I wanted to fit in. I wanted my parents to look like my friends parents. But he didn't. He had long hair. He wore black. He wore jeans every day. Now, I love that about him. But I didn't realize how cool that was then. And I hate myself for ever thinking he was weird.

I remember he'd sleep in late the weekends I spent with him. Due to his late recording schedule and, honestly, his alcoholism.

He was a musician. When I was in high school listening to Guns N' Roses and Nirvana, he made me a tape of Jimi Hendrix. It changed my life. Why didn't I recognize how great he was then, and get to know him as a person then? I just wrote it off as a cool tape.

When I was in college I was so self-absorbed that to call any of my parents was a chore. By then my dad and the woman he married were divorced, but I still had a relationship with her. I had all these obligatory calls to make. Grandma, Mom, Dad, Step-mom. It became tiresome since all I wanted to do was hang out with my friends.

My dad called me one week in August of 95. Asked me if he could come up to Santa Barbara the following weekend to visit me. I said no, I had my friend's birthday party and we were going to celebrate all weekend. (Code- we were going to do drugs, drink and stay up all night.) I told him he could come up another time.

Cut to two weeks later when I had the visit from Martha. (See previous post.)

Why did I do that? Will I always carry this guilt? Will I always miss him with this intensity? Will I always beat myself for not spending that one weekend with him? Why didn't I see it coming?

Could I have done something?

I know that all of this baggage I carry affects who I am today. Does it make me a pessimist? Does it make me bitter? Does it make me less spiritual? I think so. But I don't want to carry this sadness anymore. I have this bag of regret I carry around.

I miss him terribly. But even if he was here- would it make my day to day life better? My job that stresses me out. My longing for a home of my own instead of a tiny apartment? My longing/incredible fear of having a child of my own? Do I compartmentalize my sadness from this tragedy and use it as an excuse to escape?

Even the things I think I want- I question. Do I want the responsibility of a house? Do I want the responsibility of a child? I'm just getting used to the responsibility of a husband. I know I'm a selfish person. I am working on changing that. But it's hard.

It's the reason I read blogs like tunagirl and anchorednomad. I'm so glad I've joined this community so I can see what real family life is like.... day to day. They've inspired me to pull my sh*t together. I want to be a better person- a more patient person. A less selfish person. It will be a struggle but I'm ready to let go of my resentments and work on myself.

For now I have to work on taking this anger out on others. I'm scared to death, but I want to be a good mom, wife, friend, daughter and granddaughter. I have the best husband a girl could ask for; so I'm on my way. He gets me like no other.

Through all the sorrow, he's there for me. And I vow to be a better, more tolerant person. I won't make the same mistake twice. I will appreciate every day he is here with me, and love him with everything I have.

An Open Letter to Urban Outfitters

You know, we go back a long while. All the way back to the days where my grandma took me "back to school" shopping and I had to convince her all the kids in high school wanted to look like this.

Ok, maybe it was just me and my grungy/hippie/stoner/(clearly cool) friends but whatever.

Point is, we've had a relationship a long time. You were there through my college years when I clearly could NOT afford you but somehow made it work on my few trips down from Santa Barbara. You were there when I got my first "real job" and ran to your newly opened doors on Melrose, only to become a little nauseous by your new ridiculous prices- which forced me to supplement my wardrobe at Aardvarks and Buffalo Exchange.

But I was still loyal. That is, until you started blaring music so horrid........ that to shop in your store for a mere 30 minutes, left me twitching and buzzing like a raver after a candy-flipping party.

And that's when we temporarily parted ways. I just couldn't take one more day of walking between your tightly packed racks of cheaply-made-fade-after-one-wash-good-luck-wearing-it-more-than-twice garments. On my new, meager Receptionist salary, I just couldn't continue seeing you as often as we once did.

I thought you'd understand. I thought neither of us were bitter. So Ok, I didn't call you for five years. So????? I came back to your new location on Ventura Blvd. I was excited by the familiar smell of overly-priced pomegranate scented candles. I was tickled by the racks of jeans in every different cut, style and wash. I was worked into a frenzy by your hook of dyed ladies slips which I can never find in my size.

So I spent $315.00 in one spree. Makes up for lost time, no?

In that spree I put an $18.00 silver/gold chain necklace with a bird charm. When I unpacked my goods last night it wasn't there. I looked and looked, turned the bag upside down, and nothing. (OH COME-ON!!!)

Today I called you. I know it was awkward, but that's what happens when you don't speak for FIVE YEARS. I explained to you how you let me down, ONCE AGAIN. You told me this never happens and the loss is probably my fault. (Not a chance.)

After an uncomfortable exchange you told me my only option is to drive back with my receipt, (2o miles out of my way,) and hope that you are still carrying the same chain. Really???? You can't credit my card? You can't email me a credit? I now have to set aside time to drive all the way back to your location, which I just HAPPENED to stumble into after all these years because, I HAPPENED to be in the neighborhood???????

I guess we have to just accept each other for who we are. I guess we might need some more time apart to appreciate our quirks. But for now, we're officially on a break. I will be back this weekend to retrieve my necklace, but you can be sure I won't be calling you for a long while.

So there.

5 Things I Won't Let Ruin My Weekend

#5. We didn't get the house. It's gonna be another Christmas in our 550 sq. foot apartment with a shrub for a tree and Ambient Fire on the television.

#4. We have to be at our accountant's office at the ungodly hour of 9:00 AM on Saturday. Which means I have to be up at 7:30 AM along with the paperboys and homeless people collecting cans.

#3. Because of reason #4 I can't go out and tie one on with my friends tonight to wash off the week. No one can handle being hungover in their accountant's office. Not even me.

#2. I have to return a pair of shoes to Nordstrom at The Grove. I'll probably go after the accountant appointment. Which means after I get the fabulous news that I'll probably have to file an amended return and owe the government a gabillion dollars, I then have to dodge fifty thousand teenagers with designer bags and even more mommies with strollers the size of cadillacs just to get into the mall. (Run on sentence anyone?) Don't get me wrong, I love The Grove, just not on a Saturday afternoon when every person in Los Angeles heads over there.

#1. I still haven't made a hair appointment because I'm trying to conserve dough right now, so I'm still walking around with three obvious grey hairs AND roots. Two more weeks and I'm going to have to start wearing a schmata on my head like Britney.

I am however looking forward to reading more of The Kite Runner. I finally picked it up last night and was so engrossed I fell asleep with it on my chest.

Happy Friday ya'll.

Redskins

After watching this video I think I could become a Redskins fan. Even though their name couldn't possibly be more politically incorrect, unless there's an NFL team I don't know about called the Black Sambos.



Football is the only sport I can stand to watch on TV. (Besides gymnastics and cheerleading, which are in fact sports, but just not in the same way.) Baseball puts me to sleep. Basketball they score too often to get excited. Soccer they don't score enough to care. Football is the perfect contact sport that keeps the viewer constantly entertained.

And it's a perfect excuse to drink beer on a Sunday morning.

When does the season start again?

And Now We Wait

We submitted an offer today on another house. It's in a better neighborhood than the last and is about 300 square feet bigger. However, we offered WAY under asking price. They say it's a buyer's market. We shall see.

We spent all day Sunday house hunting and doing laundry at my parents house. Pathetically, it's like I'm still in college. I go home to do my laundry because I just can't bear sitting in a laundromat. If and when we own a house I think I'll still be a lazy laundry doer, but at least when it piles up to the ceiling, I can take it in shifts to my own laundry room and sip wine while it dries. God help my future children. I can just see me saying, "Are you sure that's dirty? You only wore it to one soccer practice!"

Work is finally starting to pick up. June was as lively as a retirement home where Kevorkian makes rounds. Now the advertisers are starting to shoot their fall campaigns. My favorite commercial right now is this:



My company didn't do it, but it's a great spot. And a great Flaming Lips song.

Lindsay Lohan was arrested this morning on suspicion of DUI and cocaine possession. Does anyone care? I didn't think so. So why is it the top story of every single news broadcast? What is going on in our society that Paris and Lindsay are the leading stories and not how many soldiers have been wounded or killed in the last week? I live in Los Angeles, and know a lot of people in the "industry". I've heard stories that would make your head spin but luckily I haven't had to deal with anything too severe.

Well unless you count the time one of my directors got the hiccups in the middle of a Campbell's Soup commercial and we had to stop shooting for an hour and fifteen minutes, the length of time it took him to finally get rid of them. Everyone on the set was running up to him with their own "cure," including the wardrobe lady who asked him to cluck like a chicken.

Or the director I worked for who refused to continue shooting until some diet peach Snapple was brought to the set. Apparently craft service had every flavor BUT that. I was sent to the nearest store to pick some up and when I returned, (covered in sweat,) the director ripped it from my hands and said, "OK, now let's continue folks. We don't have all day here!"

My personal favorite showbiz (working) memory was on the set of a commercial starring Ed O'Neill. I was a lowly Production Assistant at the time and we were shooting on the back lot at Universal Studios. I got a call over my walkie that said, "We need a PA to go pick up Ed. He's lost somewhere around New York." (For those of you unfamiliar with Universal's lot, there's a large section devoted to just NYC streets where exterior shots are filmed.)

The funny part of this was, we weren't shooting ANYWHERE NEAR "New York" and since I was brand spanking new working on sets, I really didn't know my way around either. So guess who they ask to fetch Ed? Moi.

I take off running, (like any good PA) looking for Al Bundy in New York City. It took me about fifteen minutes and I found him, wandering like a lost puppy, scratching his head and looking really panicked. When I got to him I told him who I was and that I was the one assigned to guide him back to set. I apologized and told him that it was quite possible we'd get lost on the way back too since I had only worked at Universal twice. He could not have been nicer and kept thanking me for "rescuing" him. What a sweetheart.

If only they could all be that nice. And directors wouldn't throw their production designers in the trash can. Or throw punches. And wardrobe designers wouldn't throw hangers at their assitants. And executive producers wouldn't throw phone books at their secretaries. (All true stories.) If they could all be like Ed O'Neill on that fateful day where I rescued him from the barren streets of Manhattan, this would be a much nicer industry.

A girl can hope can't she?

I'd like a Trifecta Box on Three Grey Hairs

This morning I had The Count's voice in my head. One grey hair. TWO grey hairs. THREE GREY HAIRS! I'm only thirty two and I have THREE GREY HAIRS. Possibly more but maybe my eyesight is going and I can't see the rest.

The first one I found I plucked and then cried. The next two I found I left alone and tried to cover in a ponytail. Nothing is working. It's officially the beginning of the end. To add insult to injury I'm going to have to up the visits to the hair salon, which will put a dent in the pocketbook for sure.

I've had the same hair stylist for eight years. He works at the salon that invented the Jennifer Aniston "Friends" do. Last time I was there I sat next to Nicole Ritchie. He's not cheap, but thankfully since I've been seeing him so long he gives me a break on the price. He's a really good guy. Guess I have to make an appointment soon.

So much has happened in the last few weeks. Fourth of July came and went. We spent a lovely day of bbq and fun at our friend's house in Atwater. My bff came down and spent two nights at my house so we got in a little quality time. She and her husband are two of the people we're going to Argentina with. Speaking of which, I finally got our internal flights so we're all set. Five flights in fourteen days is certainly going to be interesting.

Last weekend we headed to Hollywood Park for the last day of horse races. For some reason, I'm really good at betting on horses. Only been twice before and won both times. But since I'm so afraid of losing money I only bet $2 at a time. Well, last Sunday we walked in, grabbed the race list, I picked 3 horses who had the best names and bet $2 on a trifecta box. Won $115.00. Turned out to be a great day at the races despite my slight hangover from dinner with The Marrieds the previous night.

When we left the park I was about $150 up. Just enough to pay for a pizza dinner and balance out my hubbie's $100 loss. Check out some pics below.

Me & Cal

My Lucky Race Book

Our neighbors in the box to our right
Aren't they beautiful?
Better luck next time honey

TGIF

I have no idea what I'm going to do when I have a baby. Because all I can think about right now, at 4:45 on a Friday, is getting the hell out of work, into pajamas, pouring a glass of wine and CHILLIN. Followed by a LOOOOONG sleep. In fact, I don't want to get out of bed before 11am tomorrow. And I can.

For now.

How do moms do it? How do you go from having all this free time to none at all? Nothing to ease you in. Say, one weekend a month with an infant, followed by two, followed by three. Nope. It's all or nothing.

I hate to say it but I think I'm kind of a lazy person. Not when it comes to work but when it comes to free time. Some people see the weekend as an adventure. 48 whole hours to not be at work and therefore they fill it with activities that please them. They go outside. They hike, bike, camp and run marathons. They get up early and go to flea markets and estate sales. They go out for breakfast and peruse farmers markets.

Not me. Given the choice, I'm happy just staying in. Not answering the phone. Ordering some movies on OnDemand. Ordering in some junk food. Reading. Watching television with the shades drawn. Staying in my pajamas all day. Not having to make any physical effort whatsoever. MAAAAYBE getting out to go get a mani/pedi. Just chillin. Some would say that sounds like I'm depressed. I would disagree. It's just what makes me happy.

So with this being said, once I have a baby, all this will be long gone. Am I correct? Is it possible that I'm trying to soak up as many of these "free days" as I can before my life is dictated by diaper changes and feeding times? It's not like I can say to Hubbie, "Pretend I'm not here and you feed the baby." Can I?

I've been doing really well on the diet and have so far lost five and a half pounds. I know if I exercised more (ahem, at all) I would lose it faster. And be able to eat more.

But for now, this particular Friday afternoon, I'm going to relish in the fact that I have NOTHING that HAS to be done tomorrow except dinner with friends. And NOTHING that has to be done Sunday except a mani/pedi. And I'm grateful for that.

Happy Friday!

Butterflies in Stomach

Belly in knots. Going somewhere I haven't been in four years. Nervous. Jittery. Would rather not go but have to.
Sorry for being vague, have to be. Until I don't anymore. Ugh. Sorry. Probably shouldn't have even written.
But I have to keep my hands busy and my mind on something else.
Ok, speaking of which, the book I'm reading is fantastic. I am absolutely obsessed now with the French revolution. I want to read anything I can get my hands on. If anyone has any suggestions I'd love to hear them.
Palm Springs with the in-laws was lovely. We spent three full days lazing in the sun and making some delicious home cooked meals. My father in law is a fantastic cook and grilled for us both nights. The temperature hit about 120 degrees during the day and about 90 at night. We're talking HOT. But since the air is so dry you don't realize how warm it actually is.
I managed to escape the weekend with only a minor sunburn on the top of my thighs. After 32 years of going there I've learned to "reapply" the sunscreen. I worry about skin cancer now that I'm older. I used to just fry like bacon in the sun. Can remember at least three or four times getting burned enough to blister. Shoulders especially.
I've never been to a dermatologist. I suppose it's time to go. Although I have to admit I really don't want to be looked over. And I really don't want anything biopsied. I guess it's going to have to be one of those things where I force myself to go- kind of like the dentist- but without nitrous oxide. (Do they provide that at some dermatologists??)
I'll leave you with a picture of our backyard in Palm Springs. It was so beautiful, we felt like Hollywood stars.

One of the funniest things I've seen in a long time.

The fact that a museum like this actually exist blows my mind. Who is running to see these exhibits? Who is going to pay $19.95 to see "museum exhibits suggesting that man coexisted with dinosaurs -- which fossils show became extinct millions of years before humans existed."

My God! It's Land of The Lost! They made a museum out of Land of The Lost! Boy, I loved that show! But asserting the world is only 6,000 years old and God really did create it in six days is pretty darn funny. What's even funnier are some of the comments on the Creation Museum's site.

"I just want to let you know how thrilled I am at the opening of the Creation Museum. Finally we have a place to take our children that we don’t have to worry about the message they are hearing. We can rest assured that they are hearing the truth, the truth that we so firmly believe in." —P. F., Ohio

Worry about the message they're hearing? What message would that be? That GASP, Noah may not have loaded each and every animal on earth, two by two, on to a wooden boat? Man, I've worked on commercials with animals and even their trainers can't get them to work that efficiently. And we're talking trying to get a dog to walk through a "doggie door" at the cued time.

The museum must attract the same people who continually vote to deny GLBT people basic civil rights. They think homosexuals getting married is not only immoral but absurd. But there's nothing absurd about the exhibit in which, "Adam appears, bearded and handsome, if slightly waxen. Eve emerges from his rib with luxuriant hair and a kindly expression."

What will they think of next?

*Quotes taken from Washington Post article 5/07.

7 more hours to go

Inlaws, Hubbie and I are heading to Palm Springs this weekend for a little R&R. We rented a big modern house with a fabulous backyard where I plan to spend many hours lying in the sun reading. It's long overdue.

This morning I was slapped in the face with the trials of simply running an errand. After fighting traffic for an hour, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a prescription I had ready. The pharmacy is located at the very back of the store, and I had to dodge employees in practically every aisle stocking shelves. When the clerk went to ring me up he realized he hadn't powered up the register yet. After fiddling with it for a few minutes, he asked me to sign for the script, take the form all the way to the front of the store, pay for it and then walk back to the pharmacy to pick up the pills. There's my cardio for the day.

When I got to the front register I had to wait for the person in front of me to kindly explain to the cashier that her coupon clearly states a free gallon of milk with the purchase of three boxes of cereal. However, she chose chocolate milk and for some reason it wouldn't go through on the system. After ten minutes of this my blood pressure started to rise and my foot was uncontrollably tapping. I was now officially late for work.

When I finally got rung up, and sprinted to the back to get the pills, then sprinted out to my car, I looked around and couldn't find it. The car that is. I was in the wrong aisle. I walked over to the right aisle and was nearly mowed down by an a**hole on a cell phone who decided to gun it out of his parking spot.

I screamed so loud my throat still hurts. He gave a wimpy apology before speeding off. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I got in the car and drove off, making it to work fifteen minutes late. Walked in to the raised eyebrow of my boss and the phone already ringing.

Yeah, I need a little R&R. 7 more hours til I see this.

Every Time You Close Your Eyes...

I hear a song and want to call my dad to play it for him. Or, I'll be listening to a band I know he knew, and I want to ask his opinion. After all, he was the major influence on my indie music tastes.

Right now... listening to Arcade Fire, all I can think about is wishing my dad could hear this. I know I'm the last to catch on to this band. I know they've been around forever, and yet, I heard Funeral the other day as if it were the first time. I've been playing the song "Rebellion/Lies" over and over since. It's the true meaning of emo.

I hate that word. I hate that word so much but there's no other description for this album. I'm no music critic, so this is hard to put into words. All I can say is.... I feel different after hearing this album, and learning what went into it.

This live performance brought tears to my eyes. Hope you enjoy.