... and the City, Part 2

The next leg of our trip included Dunkin’ Donuts, Luby’s in downtown Tinley Park (fabulous lunch with my adorable father and entertaining Auntie’s…)

It’s a damn good thing there are no Dunkin’ Donuts out in these parts or I would be bigger than some of the colossal mansions that frequent almost every square inch of the better parts of L.A. It’s not so much the donuts – I mean, donuts are just plain, greasy goodness. But it’s the coffee.

Now there is argument on this topic: personally, in its virgin form, I think it pretty much sucks. But if you get it the way it’s SUPPOSED to be enjoyed, you would know that extra cream and extra sugar is a requirement. True, everything tastes good with an extra vat of both, but trust me when I tell you that a good cup of DD coffee with the works is like drinking the best slice of cake, only warm and fuzzy going down.

And then there was lunch -- Luby’s was our second choice. The truth is, the food was forgettable, but the entertainment, AWESOME. My aunts, both in their 70’s, are the hippest, coolest, most up-to-date-with-everything-of-interest people you could ever meet. They occasionally drop ‘f’ bombs (well, one of them) and they tell the BEST stories and love to listen to yours. So, lo and behold, nothing good to say about the restaurant except the bar in back looked fun and upon being there around one in the afternoon, I noted that almost everyone (young and old) had martinis. Oh, and like everything Chicago, there was a nice BIG “Bears” emblem on the door.

Da’ Bears. Wearing Bears clothes anywhere in Illinois is trendy. That morning I was getting a mani/pedi in possibly the slowest nail salon I have ever been in. I believe I was there for 1 ½ hours and had had my Big Gulp size DD coffee and was ready to writhe on the floor from boredom. Anyhow…after my pedi, I was getting my dreadfully long mani and started to people watch when I realized the woman next to me was practically in costume: Bears blue shorts with bright orange polo with Bears blue tank underneath. Then I noticed her jewelry: football “teeth” leather band around one wrist, Bears charm bracelet AND a whopping BIG C Bears ring. If that weren’t enough, I noted Bears flip flops…who knew??

Not quite the flips flops, but sheesh!!

…. And the City, PART 1

Another trip to Chicago was had. As per usual, it was fast, hurried, harried and overly booked, but still fun.

One thing me and The Man have NOT gotten down to a science is the fact that in order to take pictures, SOMEON E has to remember to bring the damn camera. And in that same realm, if we don’t remember to bring the digital camera (or can’t find it), we should bring one of the many throw-away cameras we have filling our kitchen junk drawer.

That NOT being the case, I will give you a guided tour via the Internet…(or as they say I the town that I grew up in, “the Internets”)

Let me start by saying we received a nice warm welcome in arriving to Midway Airport. I mean warm in that there were not razor sharp winds or heaps of snow. It was quite balmy, especially at 1:30 AM.

After picking up our rental car, I decided to take the Man to the City to the (drum roll, please), Weiner’s Circle. That’s right kids. Hot dogs are among the bevy of good food that the City holds, and this place is one of the greats.

Before we arrived, we drove down Lake Shore drive

to

Wrigley Field (Home of the Chicago Cubs)

and then drove south down Clark Street to check out the sites – bars, restaurants and MORE bars…and many, many drunk folk. I am not talking 1 or 2, but herds of people leaving from one place to another, leaning on one another. Stumbling. And one man was even an acrobat (a wobbly one) and did cartwheels through the intersection only to fall flat before ending his gymnastic-like adventure.

The Weiner’s Circle was VERY interesting. The people working at the counter were, um, let’s say, the RIGHT kind of people to deal with the drunkards that come in their doors after 2 in the morning. For one, we were greeted with, “Mother F---cker, what do you want??” Once they realized we were completely sober, their demeanor changed (even their tip jar said, “Tip me here, Mother F----er!.”) But as we waited, the place became mobbed with the group of college kids that were holding one member of their team up and trying to feed him fries. Then a group of guys that we’d seen further down the street leaving a reggae club came in to chime back with their own “m’fing” language.

The hots dogs and fries? M-effing amazing (even though, all of you kiddies who know me know I DON'T really eat dogs, just a taste :)



Too bad I couldn’t show you REAL pictures, but you can get the jist...next stop?

Navy Pier...

Credit

Since it was almost a year ago today since my perp tried to get my credit -- I thought I would share this:

I’d encourage anyone and everyone check your credit report NOW from all three credit reporting companies (Equifax, Experian, Transunion). By law, everyone is entitled at least one free credit report a year. Use the site below to easily navigate the three sites and actually get your credit reports for free. Free. For real. FREE. What do you have to lose?

https://www.annualcreditreport.com/

P.S. Happily, there has been no activity on my report since the beginning of this year, but I implore you -- if you EVER think someone has gotten a hold of your identity, get to the police ASAP.

P.P.S. Is it me or did past year FLY by? I am in shock right now...

Too cute

When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.

Karen, Age 7

Shaken like a martini, minus the buzz...

In the Midwest where I grew up, we did things called, “tornado drills,” in school. This was a time, during tornado season, where a very ghastly alarm would go off, teachers would herd our little troubled and frightened souls into the hallways, and we would lurch our bodies onto the floor into an almost Yoga-like position with our hands over our heads to protect ourselves in case the ceiling were to blow off and cave in.

Once in a blue moon, the sky would become ominous and yes, there would be real tornado sirens going off in the distance we would have to, in panic-mode, run to the halls and do this strange, protective position.

While lying with your head jutted against the wall, all sorts of worries would come into my head. “Is my mom okay??” “Will I ever see my dad or siblings ever again?” “Will it be like the Wizard of Oz??” Since I was brought up in worst-case scenario mode, these dismal thoughts would cloud my 4th graders brain.

Having been awoken last night by the Man during the 4.5 earthquake (which was only a few miles west of our home) I could have kept sleeping, but he was ready to run and get into position with a look of …terror. I use this word mildly, but I realized that my “tornado drills” were just that…drills. Even in some of the creepiest storms I have witnessed, there might have been masses of sky swirling that were actually small tornados, but the touchdowns were always in the same areas, far from the house I grew up in, and not so ironically called, “tornado alley.”

But earthquakes are a whole other monster. There are no real drills. There are no signs due to weather, time of day, time of year or anything else. It just happens when it happens. Some people like to say there is “earthquake weather,” but that is just a myth. It just happens because rifts in the ground want to move. Or there is some uneasy tug from the Universe. Whatever the reasons, I can’t help but feel for my Man and my Bunnie who grew up in the very edgy headspace and have both endured real life disturbances due to these quakes.

Why even my own brother and his wife were on one of the MAIN streets during the 1994 quake and had their apartment totaled.

No rhyme. No reason. No warnings..just shakes, rattles and rolls. And sometimes, disaster.

Wonderful Quote

We must be willing to get rid of the life we planned in order to have the life that is waiting for us.

Joseph Campbell

Ah, the humanity

Last week I escaped work really early with the idea that I would skip the usual mundane and tedious packing for the move and instead take some time to go for a hike. After getting on my workout gear, plugging in my MP3 player and running up the street and heading to Runyan Canyon, I reached into my pocket to feel both my drivers license and debit card, safe and secure. About 20 yards later, I only felt one. My drivers license had escaped.

In a fit of desperation and to avoid the endless DMV bs, I walked up and down the same route over 10 times, retracing every step and staring at the ground in a crazy rage. After 2 hours, I called it a night.

The following morning, I woke up and did the same walk twice (isn't insanity defined as doing the same act over and over??)

Anyway, I made the stupid DMV appt, but a friend suggested I wait a few days, "just in case."

My appt. was made for this morning. Imagine my surprise last night when I went thru my mail to find that some kind soul mailed me my MIA drivers license.

To whomever you are, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!


P.S. Hi Kelly :)

Jury Duty

For weeks I had been tortured by the vision of UGH -- Jury Duty. since I'd never been called for it before, it was extra torturous as I did not know what to expect.

As per my persona, I arrived at the downtown L.A. traffic court almost 40 minutes early. After parking and walking the plank, I noted the longest line I'd ever seen and shuddered that I had to stand in it. Fortunately, I found out it was for the real perps...people there for traffic court, etc. The line for jurors was a mere little sign that read: jurors -- and I was first.

After a few moments of standing, I was pretty much directing traffic for people figuring out what to do and where to go. I finally walked away and sat. A few other jurors were standing around at that point and girl sat next to me. We started giggling and chatting about our dread of "duty." Jennifer was easy enough for me to remember as she was cute as a button and reminded me of a 19 year old version of Jinnfer Goodwin (the youngest wife from "Big Love").

Things were brightening up already. After getting into the room, we laughed like school girls at the boring speeches about why were there and practically passed notes to keep things entertaining. It was around that time we heard another person laughing loudly.

Maya was sitting a few seats away and as she applied make-up, she giggled loudly too as we were trying to make the best of an otherwise buzzkill situation. She also noted that the man she originally sat next to was reading a magazine and mutter, "f***sh**f***sh***" to himself over and over and figured sitting by him was NOT a good idea.

The three of us spent the morning chick chatting -- where we grew up, if we were dating people, what they were like and our favorite subject -- our animals. We all spoke of our animals as if we were sharing the logic of the Universe. Jennifer has a little old dog whose name escapes me right now and Maya, two cats and a dog named Molly, who ironically had a bad haircut recently just like my Kitty.

As the late morning wore on, Maya suggested we all go to lunch and she would take us on a tour of the area since she'd grown up around there and still lives there. In agreement, we took off at 11:30 for the first leg of our lunch tour.

Upon arriving to Maya adorable little blue car, I noted her license plate (a take on a Star Wars character that I won't mention to protect her identity), but it was so fitting as she said, "____ because all of the good jedi's wore blue."

Our first stop was what Maya considers the best Mexican food in Los Angeles. Chicken Itza is a food counter located within the beautiful Mercado la Paloma, a Latino oriented market (subsidized by private donations and for profit enterprises) with different shops and restaurants. Chicken Itza specializes in the cuisine of the Yucatan and dayam was the food amazing! Over our delicious mogging food, we continued chatting and were figuring out our next leg of the tour.

We left and then arrived at Maya's house to meet her darling dog, Molly, who was waiting patiently at the gate for us. We played with her for a while, met the turtles and the cats and even granny who lives with Maya.

We then went to Olevera street and the three of us ran around like chickens with our heads cut off because not only was there a ton of people watching, but tons of markets, shopping and more beautiful restaurants. We wandered around for yet another fun filled time when suddenly we all realized that we were actually not out having fun, but were at effing jury duty.

We arrived back at the chambers at oops, 2:30. Thankfully our names had not been called. it was as quiet as a morgue until we arrived and chirped about our fun afternoon.

Within the next 45 minutes, both Jennifer and Maya got called in for jury duty and have to return Monday. After they were done, they came back and we all hugged goodbye like old friends. Within the hour I was sent home.

Not bad for my first time at jury duty!


A MUST try!!

Chicken Itza
3655 South Grand Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90007
(213) 741-1075
www.chickenitzrestaurant.com

The Bunnie and her Love

If you have not been reading (and if that's the case, I might be breaking up with you) the lovely, talented and most darling friend in the world, Jennie (aka Bunnie) got hitched to the wonderful man of her dreams.

What? You didn't know? Are you NOT reading Bunnie's Blog??

Go for it. It's romantic. It's special. It's so worth sharing!

I think I need an exorcist.

I have a jinx syndrome right now. I don't know how it started, but I believe I have surpassed the #4 mark in finding all things breakable and unknowingly have started my mission to seek and destroy.

It started over a month ago. Setting: Cinco de Mayo weekend -- I am at a fun and festive crawfish boil, drinking beers, ripping heads off of crawfish, jamming to some old school NOLA tunes and wearing the greatest and most expensive sunglasses that have ever donned my face. Not mine, but my darling boyfriends shades that he tells me look so great on me. (All fun and kidding aside, they are pretty effing cool)

Five hours later and too many beers over, a lens is MIA. Just fell out of my head. Darling boyfriend is not mad but completely stumped and befuddled as to how it fell out and where it went.

A week later, it is 5 a.m. on a Saturday. I have Great Neighbor with me. We are pulling out of my eeny Hollywood parking spot with all the glee a girl could muster as we were heading to Disneyland! As I was carefully and slowly pulling out of my spot, I get side-tracked by the Monster Truck in my garage. I look away for a hair strand and partially rip off my passenger side mirror, only to hit it again on a later date.

A week later, I am in Chicago with cell phone on me at all moments. Cell phone liquidates or SOMETHING to create the lubey-slippage that starts occurring -- not really lube but, yes. I dropped said phone. Not once, not twice but over five times. It was as if it no longer wanted to be near me – like it was escaping. Trying to talk on it after the fact was like trying to get phone reception in a coal mine. Thus, cell phone is now in cell graveyard.

Then yesterday the darling boyfriend and some friends were parked in the backyard. It was a beautiful day with great conversations and some great sippy wine. Nothing is wrong. No bees are trying to nail me. No birds are trying to poop on me. I am wearing my favorite long white skirt – you know, the kind that is long, cottony and flowing (yes, the kind women wear in tampax commercials). Fortunately, that wasn't the case, but I was getting up from the beautiful wood picnic table when I feel my arce area is attached to something. An eeny piece of material hinged itself around a piece of wood the size of a splinter and ripped the entire back of my skirt in the worst and most noticeable place.

I think I need an exorcist.

Don't sit too close, I might take your eye out.

P.S. Sunglass lens was found and cool shades are back intact!

great quote

We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.

Don't mess with Mommie

I Scream

I must fess up to my latest addiction.

To make a short story long, I am NOT your typical “sweets” kind gal. I can always skip dessert and would much rather have an extra piece of carb-filled bread with fat-globbed butter over most desserts. Give me an extra scoop of mashed potatoes over anything and I will be a happy camper.

However, this weekend I met my match.

I am not quite sure what the connection is between Slow-Churned ice cream and American Idol -- but WHO cares!!! And while I am hardly a product endorser I must share:

Dreyers Slow-Churned Take the Cake - may very well be the best frozen dessert flavor E.V.A.R. Cake-flavored ice cream with chunky swirls of gorgeous blue frosting and sprinkles?!?

Again, not sure WHY there is a stamp of American Idol on it, but here’s another little catch: it’s ½ the fat of regular ice cream (4 grams per serving to be exact)!!

So while the skads of Superbowl food me and the Man bought were okay, the ice cream? Well, let’s just say we ate the entire gallon in just a few hours.

Mmmmm…can’t wait for ya’ll to try it!!!

When bad things happen to BEST peeps...

Let's face it...bad things happen all of time. You just don't want it to happen to people that you know and love.

Case #1: A certain close friend of mine (who must remain nameless for the sake of the current) is dealing with a thieving nanny. It’s absolutely outrageous to me to think that she and her wonderful husband/family are dealing with this since this woman is not only a neighbor, but a person they considered their friend AND the watcher of her children.

It started with little things: batteries, can(s) of soda (which of course one would NOT notice unless it was six or seven at a time), jewelry -- the kind of things you might lose, displace or something...but then came Xmas when her little boy's MAIN Xmas present (an expensive electronic one, to boot) went missing. My nameless friend spent days tearing apart her house, her vehicles, etc, only to start blaming herself, thinking M.A.Y.B.E. she never really had it but forgot it at the store.

That's when her further instincts kicked in and she called the store to find that this particular toy had a serial number, which could be traced.

After even MORE work on her part, she found though a store manager that this particular gift had been RETURNED and repurchased.

Infuriated and defeated, she and her husband tried to figure out WHO could have done this...which could only have been their "friend" and "neighbor."

My darling friend, who is one of those women that you look up to and want to be when you grow up, took the high road and decided to confront her. Upon and hour and half confrontation (give or take a few minutes), she finally fessed up and being the good person my darling friend is, she forgave her.

After that, my darling friend bought a nice nanny-cam -- though she still found that said perp had her bags filled with soda (6 to be exact) a few weeks after the confrontation.

What's WRONG with people?

CASE #2: To further this problem of thievery, my beloved Bunnie and her darling family were burgled this past Friday -- you can read her explosive, yet poignant report of what happened here.

As for me, yes -- first post of this year. At the risk of bringing down the crowd, yes…my darling mother died on December 30, one month ago today in fact. There is so much to say, but right now, I will say thank you to everyone who always sent her good thoughts, good vibes and prayers. And to everyone who after the fact made me and my family feel so comforted. It’s all been so appreciated and mattered more than you could ever imagine.

HAPPY HAPPY HOLIDAZE!!!

Since I am off to Nevada this very evening...I want to wish EVERYONE a very merry holiday and happy happy new year!!!

(Don't let that monster named SANTA get you...)










jk...hope its peaceful!

"watchya gonna do when the come for you?"

As I pried my fingers from the steering wheel, the red lobbing cherry lights surrounded the car like a disco ball on crack. Nope. Not a Technicolor Dream or a groovy drug experience, but our first night in Chicago...actually, our first 2 hours in Chicago....

As we all know, I HATE driving, but have learned in this past year, that sometimes its just how it is. In Los Angeles, we creep. We snail crawl. Its the reason why talking on a cell phone here is NOT that dangerous as traffic doesn't really flow (although I say this, knowing that 90% of the population here just can't drive, so chatting on a cell is NOT a good thing). I walk faster than traffic.

Here we were, the a.m. in Chicago. Got off our flight into 35 degree temperatures, which were alarmingly glorious having had just sat on a smelly, meely and overly warm flight. With our windows rolled down in the rental car, I took us on a journey into the now desolate downtown of Chicago.

The city was glorious -- clean, a little blustery, but still alive. People were still on the streets, leaving bars and/or coffee houses. We drove north to Fullerton, the street I used to live on. Further north we went by Wrigley Field and then the Metro (The Smashing Pumpkins made their BIG debut there). I did a u-turn and we drove south to Wells street to see the new area where there was once a huge chunk of Cabrini Green, one of the most notorious housing project areas in Chicago. We then sped down to Michigan Avenue to see the light display from the carefully placed Xmas lights as well as the buildings.

After an hour of sight-seeing in the city, the clock read: 3 AM and I decided it was time to trek out to my dad's house.

I couldn't quite remember which of the two main highways were being worked on. I'd only heard thru many curse words of friends and family that it S.U.C.K.E.D.

As we flew down the 90/94 toward Indiana, I thought we were scott-free, that is, until we hit the one-lane, one-horned Flying Purple eater -- dead stop. We sat there for a while as I realized, it was 1 a.m in LA. and I am old and tired.

We cut down a side-area, one of which I thought were a familiar area to find that we were NOT in the best part of town. I am talking scary, but no worries. We drove down until I found a familiar street to go South on.

When we finally got to a named street, I started to fly. Forgive me, but my L.A. darlings all know...if you are able to fly down the street, you will. Its almost as if the Heavens opened up to allow us to cough out our under 35 mph cobwebs.

It was fabulous. It was fun...that is, until I flew our car by a mass of cheery-blazed cop cars that had already pulled over another dumb a-- person. That person would be me. A car pulled up on the left, the right and in front...very similar to a "COPS" episode only my Darling Sidekick was slouching down in the seat whispering as he sunk deeper into his coat, "OMG...why didn't you stop??" As Officer Schmoe walked up I suddenly heard the anthem, "Bad boys, bad boys, whatchya gonna do...whatchya gonna do when they come for you" as I handed him my California license which immediately got a laugh from him, then my insurance papers. He then mumbled something about "rental car."

As Officer Schmoe walked off to commiserate with the other officers, I suddenly felt the sick despair of, "how much is this going to cost me?" and "wow, i haven't had a ticket in over 6 years," all true. DS and I started going back and forth about what was going to happen...was I going to the klink? Were the Fuzz busting me??

Many minutes passed and I imagined this mass of tickets being handed back, followed by handcuffs, camera lights or something.

Instead, Officer Schmoe walked up, scratched his head and said, "We have a bar brawl to break up, so here is your "warning citation." Go home and hang it on your fridge as a reminder not to speed..."

Was it wrong that I was dying to follow them to a bar brawl at almost 4 a.m on a Tuesday morning?

Unfortunately, modern day gizmos will not allow me to show this "Warning Citation" online (but I did try!)

Hope your holiday was wonderful!

"Jagshemash! My name Borat. I like you. I like sex. Is nice"

I try not to overdo reviews on here, but I have to give the credit of HIGH FIVES, thumbs up, fists of rage, Academy probability .... all the way for "Borat". I have never been to a movie where the entire movie theatre laughed consistently throughout the movie, nor have I been to a movie that is SO offensive, yet NOOOOT (inside "Borat" joke). I can't say much more except -- SEE IT!!! See why a movie that only had 1200 screens this past weekend made the #1 spot.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN -- may ALL your SCREAMS come true!

And don't let the KILLER LUNATIC bunnies get you...

Satanic blog?

Why are there upside down crosses down the right side of my page? Is it a Halloween thing??

Coop

I just finished Anderson Cooper's book, "Dispatches from the Edge: A Memoir of War, Disasters, and Survival"

I will admit...I really knew little of him before picking this book up. I knew, as the fashionista I'd like to think I am, that his mother is Gloria Vanderbilt. I knew that he had silvery grey hair and assumed he was MUCH older than he is. I also knew that when Katrina happened, the event seemed to spin his career from just a journalist into an iconic voice of the people.

At the risk of saying too much, I think that Anderson Cooper needs to have more than just a show on CNN or a blog at CNN.com at he needs to be heard daily via networks and radio -- hell, he could run for president and knock that squelcher out...but...

What I loved about his book? It's funny and it's sad. It's a quick read, and written well, and often times moved me to tears.

Highly recommended, but mentally prepare yourself: this is the real thing. He has truly seen the events he speaks of. He has smelled the smells. The terrible and frightening sights that make most of us flip the page or turn the channel, he has been there and has walked the walk. He has spoken with the survivors and/or the victims of events all over the world. He has laughed and cried with these people. He has seen their loss first hand...

But while he is telling these stories, he speaks of his owns losses. Some might think of him as the "poor little rich boy" (ironic, since that is what his mother was touted "Poor Little Rich Girl" in the NY papers after the horrifying death of his brother). While one might figure out having gone to Yale on his mothers dime wasn't really roughing it, you never feel as he pulls his "born with a silver spoon in his mouth" punches, as you realize, traveling to this fifth-world countries on his own with nothing but a backpack, a camera and some frightened crewman, really makes him one hell of a journalist -- grounded and makes his writing raw and real. He never mentions money because where he goes, it makes little difference. He never talks of the riches he's seen, because he has seen so much horror and loss.

He is so real that you can't shake him, but so interesting you can’t put the book down. And you really feel like you’ve been given a spot on history lesson.

He's officially made it to the dinner table -- you know, "If you could choose 10 people, dead or alive, to have dinner with." He's got a permanent seat at my table.

A quick review

Oh Happy Happy, Joy Joy....

I am digging my new job. It's all very confusing and overwhelming at times, but it's very interesting, the people are nice and I am LEARNING.

I can WALK to work. Well, let's just say that I, being the seasoned veteran walker I am, can walk to work. Most people wouldn't, but I feel like I have found some new freedom!!

Life is damn good!

Thank you, OPRAH

I haven't been able to talk about this, since it was a subject that was making me so sick to my stomach that I couldn't even speak of it without getting not only mad, but upset.

About a month and a half ago, I was having a light bulb moment or as Oprah would say an "Ah-hah" moment at work. It had to do with finances and since anything to do with numbers or money is like talking to me in Chinese, I am always a little hesitant and confused, not to mention nervous -- but this day I was curious. I was perusing Oprah's site to get to Suze Orman's link. Suze Orman is that woman that can talk anyone off a ledge about finances and somehow make everything palpable.

This particular day, I was reading Suze's advice about how to get yourself out of debt. Nice. Seven steps, one being to check your FICO score. A FICO score is a credit score developed by Fair Isaac & Co. Credit and is a method of determining how likely it would be for a credit user to actually pay off their credit. It also determines how often you ask for credit (which effects your credit in case you did not know) and where you stand in the wonderful world of credit.

I hadn't checked my credit score in months but remembered it being fairly good. That is, until I checked that very day.

My score had dropped considerably, but I couldn’t figure out why since I have not used a credit card since last November, so I decided to run an entire credit report.

I nearly fell off my chair at work when reading not only the marks against me for all of the accounts that had been opened, but nearly went into a panic attack when reading how MUCH credit has recently been opened AND approved.

Yes, kids. I am a victim of ID theft.

Fortunately, I was boss-free this particular day, so I went in his office and I immediately called the first credit card that I saw. It was for a women's clothing store, one in which I would NEVER have opened an account for. The guy there was SOOO nice and SO helpful. He also let me know "my perp" (how very "Law and Order," right?) had my social security number. He told me to call every credit number on my account, the credit agencies and to file a police report.

Police. What? Un-effing-believable. I sat on the phone all afternoon that day, calling different agencies, all of the companies on my account and noted that several things had happened just a few days before I'd found out I'd been robbed.

The next day, I went to the police. The Los Angeles Police, as you would guess, are a little too busy solving murders and busting druggies and such to care that I am being thieved on and all, but I was lucky enough to have a fairly nice cop who filled out a police report and asked me a barrage of questions…mostly, did I know who this person was??

No, I told him. There wasn't a soul I know who would steal from me.

He told me they would send my information downtown and from there, if there was enough to work with, it would become an investigation.

In the meantime, I started getting credit cards in the mail with my perps name on it. And they were those kind of credit cards that have the sticker on them that say they don't activate until you call. And then the frightening part started. My perp/whore/bitch-using-my-identity had already used them. And let's just say, the balances were outrageous and made my already stirred up emotions MORE exhausted.

The worst parts are that beyond that fact someone is stealing from you AND racking up credit, you have to stay on top of everything, at all times. This means, if someone from a credit company sends you a statement, you have to call immediately, send them the proper documents AND add more to your already over-flowing police report, not to mention, within a month, I had accrued two large files full of paperwork. And there are also sh**-buckets of affidavits to send just to prove -- you are you.

After all of the anger passed, I just started thanking my lucky stars (and Oprah) that I'd caught on so early. I then received a postcard from one of the stores my perp bought stuff from that said, "Hope you are enjoying your plasma T.V." That pushed me off the edge of anger and more into a sitcom mindset.

And at that point, I'd cracked and cracked up. What more could I say or do? It was like someone stealing your vacation money and then sending you a postcard. "Yo bitch. Having the best time...on you!"

But let's just say, I am SO fortunate. In just a matter of weeks, the police did indeed open an investigation (though I am finding that to be a quite moot matter with them), but the good news yesterday morning one of the credit agencies e-mailed to say to almost everything has cleared and I may be back to my old debt, without my perp-whores "little" extras.

I am a lucky one. There are people that don't catch on for many years of this massacre.

So I guess this was really long-winded, paranoid and about to get preachy, but seriously...CHECK YOUR CREDIT REPORTS FREQUENTLY. Do NOT give out your information to ANYONE. I believe that someone may have gotten my information while I was getting my taxes done at H&R Block. Its so ridiculous to think that someone would steal but the dates of the first occurrences are right around the time I had my taxes done this year.

A quote in honor of Former Gov. Ann Richards

Her thoughts of George Bush, Sr.

"Poor George. He can't help it. He was born with a silver foot in his mouth."

Another line she often quoted summed up her view of the aspirations of women in politics:

"Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels."

Love it!

R.I.P.

Rock n' Rocks

Saturday morning was absolutely beautiful and the weather was perfect. Alex had this great idea for a day plan ... to go to Vasquez Rocks. Not one to say no to something I know nothing about, he told me to wear workout attire, we'd bring some water and that I'd love it.

We drove to Aqua Dulce, which was a mere 35 minute drive with some of the most eye-blazing and almost solar-system like scenery. There is farm land everywhere and for a moment, I felt as if we were in Napa or some docile region of the Midwest. Not many cars, tons of land, the CUTEST homes on acres of land and clean, clean, clean EVERYTHING.

When we pulled up to the sign that said, Vasquez Rocks, I was informed that many movies have been filmed there (Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, Blazing Saddles (BUNNAY!!), Planet of the Apes, to name just a few) and not to mention, this past weekend, after seeing "Little Miss Sunshine," lo and behold, the rocks were in the background (FANTASTIC movie, by the way). Oh and T.V's...STAR TREK.

Anyhoo. We parked in a sandy marsh area, but in the distance were these ginormous rock formations that look extra-terrerestrial...seriously, right out of an old "Twilight Zone" or "Star Wars". As we started to get closer, chills kind of shot through my spine. These were made from nature. This was not a Hollywood set...especially when Alex said the scariest words I have heard him utter, thus far, "Watch out for coyotes and ... rattlesnakes."

Sidebar: I grew up in the Midwest, as you know. We had deer and wolves and things of that sort. We had gardener snakes that were essentially worms with attitudes. I like nature. Love it even. I mean, I was the always first kid to try and pet wild animals or chase loose dogs, but something about the habitat in Southern California makes me frightened like a sissy. Maybe its the fact things don't die ... E.V.A.R. or that there are many more poisonous, man-eating, flesh-loving, human-hating critters are out in these mountainous areas. Am I crazy? I have NO problem swimming in the ocean, with the bacteria monsters, sharks and scabie-like things, but man, hearing the words, "rattlensnake" brought me back to the days of "Wild Wild World of Animals" or one of those, "When Snakes Attack..."

Anyway.

After my warning, I was walking with saucer-like-despair-eyes, and avoiding any hole in the ground that might have a snake in it, but alas, I couldn't help but be fascinated by these rocks/mountains.

Apparently, these rocks have been around since prehistoric times when the sandstone rocks were uplifted at an angle which is why we see their jagged sides. The rock formations are part of the San Andreas Fault. They are called, "Vasquez" after Tiburcio Vasquez - one of California's most notorious bandits - who used these rocks to hide from the po-po, or back in the 1800's...law enforcement.



After taking picture after picture (which i will post at a later date) we CLIMBED up one of the sharpest peaks. It's odd. From far away, its as if nature created the perfect way to climb these things, but when you get closer, its the natural discoloration that makes you believe its a little bumpy when in fact, the rocks are smooth and a little slippery. There are also holes (not snakes holes, thank goodness) throughout the formation which look like nostril but naturally keep air filtering through.

The climb up was a little freaky, but there is almost a natural guide to the way the rocks formed together to make it not so hard to maneuver, though every so often I would look over the side and think about how odd it would be to fall off a cliff, literally, a splat to my doom, especially when I dropped the large water bottle I'd been carrying and watched it roll down, down, down until it hooked into some bushes.

But we did get to the top. And it was GORGEOUS. And windy, which made me want to hurl off the side, but we did get some awesome pictures...of ourselves, since after all, we did do it and we did it well.

After getting back down, which to me, is the scariest part of climbing that high, we walked through some trails, again with saucer eyes since we were now on the ground.

We also learned you can horseback ride there, which would be ferociously cool.

After all of this nature, dirt in my pores and dust all over my person, Alex then announced the next leg of our journey...to the local winery!!

Aqua Dulce Vineyards is only about 15 minutes from the Rocks. It is absolutely adorable and worth the trip over. The wine-tasting takes place in what looks like a very high-fallutin' barn and as you can see in the link, the inside is just sweet. The people that work there are so very nice. One wine-tasting is $7 and provides you with five sips of very nice wines. Its very quaint and makes you totally forget the hubbub of L.A.

Highly recommended, BOTH.

Another fun LINK

What I did this Summer -- by me.

The Happiest Place on Earth

Since I have really fallen off the wagon of keeping up witchya'll over what I have been doing, here's a little taste:

Disney was one of those things growing up that my "rich" friends did, only they'd go to Orlando to Disneyworld. While we shrugged along to see Michigan for our umpteenth time, even commercials for Disney always made me feel like I'd truly missed out and I was pretty sure I would someday need therapy for missing the Disney boat.

When I moved to L.A. (SIX YEARS AGO, NEXT WEEK), one of my best friends took me. I was pretty sure that my inner child had missed out completely and that there was no going back or that I purely had no sense of fun. It was okay. Cute. Niiiice. But just okay.

One day this summer, A and I were in Huntington Beach. The word, "Disneyland' popped out of his mouth, about every third word -- what was he trying to say?? A, are you trying to tell me something?? Dis -- dis, what?? You see, A is the epitome of Disney. He KNOWS Disney. He sleeps and dreams Disney. He would live in Disney if he could…

So we trekked on over towards the Big D. We opted to get a room and do the following day at Disneyland. We got ourselves some quick fix clothing (including a bitchin' bikini for my person) at Target so that this girl could lay out at the pool. The 2 zillion kids that were trying to drown each other and the mother's from Where.Jesus.Left.His.Shoes, Alabama trying to keep their little monsters intact, was pure entertainment for me.

The hotel we stayed at was quite nice, but much nicer when they told us there was a 2 hour cocktail hour, for FREE. Let's just say we were in and out of line for 2 solid hours…

We then eased on down the road to Downtown Disney. Now let me just say, I had NO idea there was such a thing called, Downtown Disney. Really?? A insisted that I had to see this. In fact, he was so excited, he started to implode…We ate at this amazing restaurant called, The Jazz Kitchen. After plenty of oyster shooters and drinks, I can't tell you much more except that we had a whole lot of fun, especially since we sat on the top tier, overlooking the whole downtown Disney, that had this awesome New Orleans vibe.

The next morning we quickly got ourselves together to grab our free breakfast and like a baby, head out. Only, when I opened our thick, sunless hotel curtain, I was shocked to see something you NEVER see in southern California…RAIN. Buckets of it. A thought I was pulling his leg, until he scampered over and with the pain of a child who sees his parents instead of Santa putting his presents under the Xmas tree, let out a little whimper followed by a "fuuuuck." All night we'd heard loud, bowling alley-like noises, but when you are near the Happiest Place on Earth, you just assume its rides and rollercoaster's, NOT thunder.

But like most Hollywood marriages, it didn't last long and sooner than later, the sun peaked his hot and happy head out to light up the trail to Disneyland.

It was hot. Hotter than what I imagine my home in Hell will be like, but besides that…when you go to Disneyland with the BIGGEST.Disneyland.Fan.EVAR (BDFE), you can't help but enjoy every damned second of the glorious spectacular, especially when the BDFE is behind you, poking, pointing and furiously making sure you see EVERY drop, every inch of lighting, know the history of every square inch and … just makes sure you are laughing. And I did. ALL day. Till I was hoarse. I screamed. I ooohed and ahhhed during "It's a Small World" -- TWICE. I went on Space Mountain -- TWICE (once in the front seat). We went on every ride, sometimes three times. I squealed when I saw Pooh Bear (and felt pain for the dude in the suit) and giggled when I saw little kids, pawing and so screamy-happy at all the various characters milling about in the park.

At night, we watched the fireworks display and snickered at all of the half-asleep kids, fighting to keep their eyes open to catch a glimpse of Mickey (who was MIA ALL day in the park) doing this little dance on the big boat. It was very adorable. And as spectacular as I'd hoped.

I realize now, I am ALL about Disney and my inner-child, is happy and no longer in need of therapy (at least, not for that).

-----

And a shout out to my darling niece who turns (ulp) 18 on September 5. Happy Happy my sweet baby girl!!

Ahem

“Human beings were not meant to work in little cubicles, staring at computer screens all day and going on about Mission Statements . . .,”

Office Space

Been down so long ...

Going to Vegas this weekend -- YAY!!!

Just saw the cute male blond doctor from "House" -- YAY!!!

Yesterday was Bunnie's birthday and today is brother Bill's!!!

Happy Weekend

Wanted for Robbery: Steve

Becky (who was visiting this past weekend from Illinois) and I spent our Monday basking in the Malibu sun (sans sunblock on our buns, which really fried and hurt later in the night).

As we watched dolphins, traded bad magazines, napped, played in the waves that were GInormous as our bodies were numb from the arctic cold water, we pondered on what we should do next.

The Good Boyfriend o' Mine called and said, "Since your in MEL-ibu, why not go to Moonshadows?" It didn't sound so riveting as this mama had had her share of mojitos the night before, but what a fun story to tell em' back home, right Beck??

So we left our amazingly warm beach slumber to trek up the PCH.

Upon arriving at the valet stand, we were able to breath in the mix of ocean air and PCH fumage. The valet dudes were super nice as we drowned-rattily skittered inside.

Moonshadows is VERY nice. There are quite a few okay beachy food/bar places on the PCH, but this is definitely one of the better ones.

The staff was unbelievably friendly. I mean, friendly like you wanted to hang out with them friendly. As we reached our seats in the corner of the back deck bar, we noted that this bar is ON the water, which made us VERY happy. We each ordered a drink as the group of afternoon drinkers all started the discussion of Mel Gibson. I then added in my "Nick Nolte AND Vince Neil both have been drunk here," as "ooooh" and "ahhhhs" came soaring through the air.

Then we noticed there was bird poop falling like mini-bombs from the heavens above. And then there was one brave-ass bird that swooped down and sat right next to me.

This bird has cajones bigger than Texas as he forcefully walked right over to my drink and stared at it, trying to make it his own. I grabbed at my very delicious pina colada when this CRAZY wailing noise came out of him. I somehow understood this wail. I do speak bird from time to time so I took a piece of bread that our waiter Brad had left and stuck my hand out as a peace offering. Bird ate half of it, kind of nodded and then SPIT the rest of it out. He then nodded to me and made a screech. I understood. He was waiting for me to butter it.

As I now, under the seering eyes of Bird, started buttering a piece of bread for him, Brad the waiter came out and said, "Oh, that's Steve."

Steve isn't just ANY bird, he's the Moonshadows bandit. Seems that the night before, Steve swooped down and grabbed a man's steak off of his plate. Sometimes its been hats, other times he's stuck his head into drinks. He's notorious. He's a little pissed off. He's Steve.

After my own dealings with birds over the years, I am not one to take chances with angry ones, so I sweetly buttered the bread, handed it over to him and in his special bird squawk way he said, "Thank you, Ma'am."

Ma'am?? Steve, I'm only 33. Ma'am??

What a bastard!

This is Steve.

Amazing (and true) quote

Fate chooses our relatives, we choose our friends.

Jacques Delille 1738-1813, French Poet

My Exorcism

At some point this week, I hurt myself. I don't know when or why. It may have been the skid out of my flip-flop that resulted in a moment of pure agony or it might have been doing squats, while watching that David Navarro/Tommy Lee rock star show. Whatever the case may be, my left foot had been hurting all week. But I did what you should not do:

I walked at lunch twice this week, around the golf course -- which isn't exceedingly long, but if you have pain, you shouldn't do anything. Especially at the pace we went at.

I wore heels. Not a good thing to do when you have foot pain.

And then there was Wednesday, when I did Runyon with the newly engaged Bunnie. Not my best move, but it was really, really fun and I think we might have delved into bottle #2 of yummy fizzy wine had there been no motivation.

So here it was Thursday night. After doing two too many rounds of grocery shopping for my dinner for the man tonight AND for the arrival of Becky tomorrow, I realized my foot was not only throbbing, but my calf AND my thigh were starting to hurt.

I put my leg up for most of the night and then went to bed. After two hours of sleep, I woke up to more nagging pain. I was pretty sure I had The Gout. Or that there was a heartbeat, alien -- of course, in my leg. Was my leg pregnant with some sort of alien "It's Alive" spawn?? Whatever the case may be, it was freaky and unusual and a source of manic, non-sleep, thoughts -- of how I could POSSIBLY go salsa dancing Saturday night or more importantly, how I was going to be able to sight-see properly with Becky, since her first visit to see me starts tomorrow. And generally speaking, how I would get through work in this pain.

After looking at my leg and foot and realizing they were both swollen, I opted to take a Tylenol PM and waited to be hopped up, no pun intended. I then struggled with what I should do next -- call my doctor or go to acupuncture.

Problem is, my regular doctor would give me pills and tell me to stay off my foot. The acupuncturist would actually get rid of the pain.

This morning I hobbled over to Koreatown to visit South Baylo University, the home of many amazing healers. I have been to this acupuncture place a million times, sometimes for things like allergies or little aches and pains, but this was different.

I had to wait a little while longer than usual, but then a man -- an internist, Kim Lee came out. I told him that my left leg was twitchy and totally painful. Minutes later, I was lying on my stomach on the massage table as he and another internist started surveying the damage and poking onto areas that I hadn't even known were hurting. They were talking in their native speak as I lay there, trying to decipher what they were going to do. Then I heard the familiar clink of needles…

And then the exorcism started --

Warning: If you've never had acupuncture before, DON'T let this scare you away!!! This is JUST this instance and should NOT keep you from going!!

The first needle went in and I yelped, more out of the unknown than just for pain. There were a smorgasbord of needles in my feet, to start. Not bad. Then they put one in my middle right finger (eff yeah!) and then in my side of my right hand.

Then things got really ugly. My left calf was getting needles inserted. Then my knee. The epicenter of the pain was in my left thigh, on the side. As the needles went in, I thought of things that must equally hurt -- bamboo shoots in your fingertips, getting a toe cut-off with a metal clipper, having a bowling ball fall on your foot, childbirth, lobotomies -- and right at this moment, my head started to spin. Seriously. The worst effing pain I think I have felt in eons. Or ever. And it was constant. Tears. Throbbing. My breath -- I could see it. And there were more needles added to the throbbing pain. The other internist left Mr. Lee alone.

Good times, right??

I wanted to clock him. I wanted to poke HIM with needles -- in his eyes. I thought he was done. He'd quietly tiptoe back to do more. As he put more needles into the evil, screaming painful area -- a very scary, deep and guttural, devil-voice came oozing out of my person, "NO MORE NEEDLES." Ahhh.

He stepped back. My eyes, I believe, were glowing red. Before I could spew green, he looked at me, eyes wide with terror as he walked backwards into the curtain and murmured, "…be back in 15 minutes."

For 15 minutes, I was strewn there, like a human pin-cushion, swearing under my icy breath, speaking in tongue and trying to figure out if work was anywhere near as painful as this moment, since I had to call in for the morning to get this done.

When Mr. Lee returned covered in armor, I knew he was very afraid. He asked if he could remove the needles. I moaned out a "yes." I thought for sure at any moment, the alien pod would start hurdling its way thru in its mucous-membrane sac -- though the worst was over. The pain was still there, but he'd let the Beast out. My eyes returned to normal. I know longer had an urge to pummel Mr. Lee with sharp instruments. My breathing returned to normal. My voice became almost melodic as I squeaked out a "thank you."

And now, I feel much better.

BTW. Today is Robb's 33rd birthday. I explained to him in his comments that being on the tail end of 33, as I am, I have decided its definitely been one of my best and favorite years! Remind him that he's OLD!!! And of course, wish him a happy one...

Please read my darling Bunnie's beautiful moment (and so well-written as always..)

So happy for these two!!

…when the MUSIC'S over…

Today marks the 25th anniversary of MTV.

I remember staying up with my siblings to watch the first night of MTV and how exciting and breakthrough that moment was. From there in out, our house was an MTV house, watching groundbreaking moments happening all over the world in music. How else, besides buying an entire album of bands you were otherwise unfamiliar with, would anyone have seen the likes of half of what became popular? For instance, I became a HUGE British pop fan and had Banarama, Fun Boy Three among others in my record collection. I wouldn't have had any clue who these people were without MTV.

And then of course, besides my love of hair bands, was my deep, forever love of Duran Duran. Watching their videos made there songs even better since, of course, they weren't bad to look at (JOHN TAYLOR .. JOHN TAYLOR).

Where else would kids that were into Madonna learned to follow ALL of her million looks over the years??

Here are some other time-lines from the Chicago Tribune's RED EYE:

Thriller"
Michael Jackson's first "event" video debuted on Dec. 2, 1983. It was a 14-minute movie with Vincent Price and other frightful creatures that elevated music videos to an art form. Back in March 1983, Jackson's "Billie Jean" was the first video from a black artist to air on MTV.

Madonna
Madonna became a superstar when she humped her wedding veil onstage while performing "Like a Virgin" at the first Video Music Awards in 1984. In 2003, even though her "American Life" album flopped, she showed she wasn't going down without a fight. She planted lip locks on both Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera during the 20th VMAs, making front pages everywhere.

College video
Beginning in 1986, "120 Minutes" became MTV's version of college radio, giving people who preferred their music edgier than Lionel Richie or Debbie Gibson alternative artists such as The Pixies, The Cure, Psychedelic Furs and Echo & The Bunnymen.

Rap blasts off
"Yo! MTV Raps!" hosted by Dr. Dre and Ed Lover, premiered in 1988, bringing rap to the masses and helping make it the dominant music form for young America today. MTV created shows to highlight two other musical forms, alternative and heavy metal, with "120 Minutes" (1986) and "Headbangers Ball" (1987).

Grunge is born
When Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" video aired on Sept. 29, 1991, it killed hair metal and made grunge the hot new music scene.

Reality ride
The 1992 debut of "The Real World" "invented reality TV," said Robert Thompson, professor of popular culture at Syracuse University. Casting Pedro Zamora (left), who was gay and soon to die of AIDS, in the 1994 season solidified MTV's position as champion of tolerance.

Heh-heh. Cool
"Beavis and Butt-head" debuted on March 24, 1994, telling gross-out stories, bashing videos they played and making the cover of Rolling Stone magazine.

After school special
"Total Request Live" debuted on Sept. 14, 1998, ushering in a new era in teen pop and crowning Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears as king and queen. With host Carson Daly, the show became a true tastemaker on Oct. 22 that year, when "TRL" shut down Times Square for a Backstreet Boys appearance.

Bleepity-bleep-bleep
The first bleeped-out swear word on the 2002 premiere of "The Osbournes" was followed by 58 others. For a while, the confused old rocker, his crabby wife and bratty kids became America's first family.

Chicken or tuna?
"Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica" gave D-list pop singers Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey what they never gained with their music: fame. The newlyweds became household names in 2003 when a can of Chicken of the Sea confused Simpson, and she asked her hubby, "Is this chicken, what I have, or is this fish?"

Punks and stunts
"Jackass" quickly became MTV's most popular show when it began in 2000, showing Johnny Knoxville and his merry band doing painful stunts such as the human wrecking ball and butt piercing. In 2003, Ashton Kutcher (above) "Punk'd" Justin Timberlake and put the term in America's vernacular.

No confessions
In 2004, MTV tweaked the reality show genre with "Laguna Beach," a docu-soap that unfolded slowly, without scripted set-ups like confessionals and planned trips. Kristin (right) and her "real O.C." pals became instant reality stars.

MTV changed everything, but for itself, its own changes have left this girl a little sad. Of course, everything needs to move on, but it seemed like the time when it was continuous and progressive was replaced with game-shows, reality shows, and a bunch of time-wasters that made me NEVER want to watch again, (though I will say, they did start Beavis and Butthead, the Osbournes and Jackass, which all cracked me up) -- but then it all got out of control. And I know. There is always MTV2 but to me, the epitome of MTV was MUSIC and now its over.

Haiku Friday

heat is awful
boiling from inside out
no end in sight

And for additional fun, check out

Haiku's about traffic -- right up my alley!

http://www.honku.org/

Hut, 2 ...3....4....

I decided about a month ago that I was in a physical slump. I have been working out since the prime age of 19, was a fitness instructor for many moons and have always had gym memberships, but nothing was peaking my interest.

I have done yoga. It was fun and still can be, but I sometimes need a little more aggression. I have been a runner, but that gets old. Last year I discovered the beauty and wonderment of Runyon Canyon. After doing that hike about 2,000 times, I could walk the walk with a blindfold. I then adopted myself in the routine of doing Spin. You know spin -- the riding a bike for an hour and never really getting anywhere? Precisely. It was fun for about four months and then slowly became drudgery. I then partook in a weight/step class that was REALLY fun and then again, became boring after a few months of the same old/same old.

Last month I'd just had it. Time to be done with the gym. One day I just had enough. Very nice gym, don’t get me wrong, but I was starting to get that illness of driving to work, getting into a building, getting out of work, driving to another building, driving home and then getting into yet another building. Tomb-illness, I suppose.

I killed off my membership. Blam. Dead.

As I walked away from the gym, I thought of what I would possibly do with my time. Walking is a great last resort for me, but I knew that wouldn't be enough.

I decided that I would do something I'd thought about since my days in Chicago. I used to see people doing the work-outs on the lakefront and thought they were crazy.

I decided to be that crazy: I joined Bootcamp.

Stipulations up front: No booze for the month. No desserts. Call time, 6 a.m. at the of the La Brea Tar Pits.

Typical morning (M,W,F): Wake up at 5:35 a.m. no sh**. Wake up, brush teeth (as a way to make friends), change into work-out garb. Drive 9 minutes to park. Be ready by 6 with water and weights. Chatter with some of the other crazy folks and prepare for butt-kicking. We'd run about 2-3 miles and then do weights or sometimes these lung-pumping relay things that consist of running with your knees up, jumping with medicine balls, doing jumping jacks and all other sorts of torture. Some mornings after our run, we run up and down stairs, do lunges across the top of the stairs and then (flail) run, grab our weights and do all sorts of weight-bearing exercises. Sometimes we'd lie in the grass, with the hungry, sweat-hungry gnats attacking, but you'd just bear with it because it was all in the name of getting it done.

What's been interesting:

I am NEVER bored. The hour flies by.

We don't do a million sets of weights, but maybe two sets of 15. But we change it up. All.the.time.

The gentlemen that runs it, "The Major," runs with us and pushes us. Its this weird competition yet, there are no feelings of anyone trying to outdo another.

The running is actually peaceful.

We have time to streeeeetch.

And lemme just say, there is something bewildering and breathtaking about Los Angeles at 6 a.m. Its cool enough to be comfortable, but warm enough to still be in a tank top.

And....I leave feeling sore and like I actually did something.

FYI:

This past Friday was my last class -- I lost 2.5% body fat and 8 lbs. Niiice!!!

Not sure what's next, but I highly recommend checking out your local Bootcamp for a good, solid a**-kicking with lots of fun attached!!

"It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so."

Mark Twain

Beyond just the Mercury rising ....

I believe that I am being maliciously pelted with weird stuff since the beginning of Mercury Retrograde. http://astrologyzone.com/forecasts/mercury.html

2006 Mercury Retrograde dates
March 2--March 25
July 4--July 28
October 28--November 17

(From Astrologyzone.com -- the BEST horoscopes, EVAR!)

At several points throughout the year most of us will be bombarded with the maddening effects of Mercury in retrograde. Mercury is a planet which governs all transportation and communication issues. Mercury is not an emotional planet, but rather a highly objective, truth-seeking one. It rules intelligence, education and truth. When it is in retrograde, some of its power is held back.

When Mercury starts turning in an apparent backward motion, we will start to feel the effects of this event days or even as far as two weeks earlier. When the planet normalizes we will see the tempo of events pick up in our lives as the planet becomes "stationary" and then speeds forward.

Gemini and Virgo are signs ruled by Mercury, so if you are one of those born during those months, you will be complaining especially loudly. If you work in the industries ruled by this planet such as sales, writing, public relations, advertising, publishing, air freight, the post office or express mail, any transportation industry, from the airlines to Amtrak, you'll also be especially vulnerable to this planet's weird motions in September. (If you are a Gemini, for example, who works in publishing, it's no use calling in for a month of mental health days--you can't escape!)

What happens when Mercury retrogrades? You miss appointments, your computer equipment crashes, checks get lost, you find the car you just purchased during Mercury retrograde is a lemon. (Or, you hate your haircut, the lamp you bought shorts out, your sister hates her birthday gift.) There will be countless delays, cancellations and postponements--but know these will benefit you in the long run. Don't fight them, although your frustration level and feeling of restlessness will be hard to cope with at times.

All machinery and things with moving parts--such as computers, VCRs, camera equipment, garbage disposals, and so forth, will reveal any weak links now. It is critical that you back up your data system and be more careful and vigilant than ever. Projects will demand more time and money than anticipated this month.

In matters of the heart, if your boyfriend or girlfriend breaks up with you or says something hurtful, take a wait-and-see attitude. Since Mercury rules speech, they may not mean what you think they are saying now. Let them have some space, and wait to see if they mean in October what they said in September.

When traveling, leave early and allow for extra travel time. Have all bags double-taped closed, count your belongings, double-check addresses and reconfirm appointments. Things get lost when Mercury messes us up. Take NOTHING for granted. The sector of your chart that Mercury happens to be skating through will be effected most dramatically, so check your forecast!

Why would the Universe give us Mercury retrograde? Because to move forward it is sometimes necessary to backtrack and reconfigure our paths in life. It is important to reconsider, repair, reflect, and reconnect. Mercury forces us to slow down and fix what's broken, and in so doing, rethink things. It also gives us time to get to projects we have put on the back-burner.

Some activities are lucky or actually improve when Mercury retrogrades. You are likely to bump into old friends that you haven't seen in years. Adopted children tend to find their birth parents during Mercury retrograde periods, or people locate their long lost siblings. Prosecutors often find clues to crimes that had previously remained unsolved for years. (Although sometimes the reverse is true--there is a greater danger, or example, that police can bungle evidence during a Mercury retrograde period, for clear thinking doesn't come easy for any of us then.) Mail that went astray weeks or even years ago shows up during Mercury retrograde. Some things that were lost reappear.

Now is also a good time to dress old wounds, clean up relationships or to simply bury the hatchet. Some people have great breakthroughs in psychotherapy during a Mercury retrograde period. For salesman, it is a positive time to backtrack over previous contacts rather than call on new ones. It is a perfect time to schedule work on projects that you haven't had time to do and you've let pile up. Bring your resume or portfolio up to date, and clean out your closets. Take time to paint the house. Clear your decks.

Just try not to start new things. If you have to start a job during a Mercury retrograde period know that the nature of the job is likely to change dramatically over time. Perhaps the person you report to will leave, or your responsibilities will be very different from what you thought they would be. Or your company won't be ready to take you on, and you won't have much to do until things are reorganized. But remember, if this was a position that you tried for in the past, then you've got the vibes working for you rather than against you.

Finally, what about people born with Mercury retrograde? If you are due to give birth to a baby during this period, don't fret. The ancients felt that this aspect lends a more philosophical tone to the character. Mercury rules thinking, therefore an individual born with this aspect tends to reflect deeply over events and issues throughout their lifetimes. In this case, having this aspect could be a big plus! Your astrologer was born with Mercury retrograde--so relax!



I KNOW. i know. It sounds all flakey and Ms. Cleo ("Call me NOW") and stuff, but I am truly believing that somehow the Universe has harvested my innards and are now playing an evil game of Dodgeball with my life. STOP!!! The good news is, just a few more weeks of it! Whew.

Feeling Hot Hot Hot

Are there anthems to sing on weeks that feel as if you have been kerplunked in between the weaves of a George Foreman grill? Is there any relief besides waiting for snow (as if) -- or any other type of weather (as if)???

I am think that Hell froze over and sent their weather all over the country.

Great Quote

"The real measure of your wealth is how much you'd be worth if you lost all your money." -Anon.

Walkin' in L.A...

As I should knock on wood before making SUCH a statement, driving has not been as harried for me lately. For some reason, the bevy of beast drivers have NOT been eating away at my soul as they've done in the past. I don't know if its my musical choices, having great air conditioning that drowns out all outside noise, the recreational drugs I've been dabbling in (jk) or if for some reason, I have been spared the pain and anguish of bad drivers as of late.

But lest I go there, there are still the drivers on the road I LOATHE:

1. The Octopus: The Octopus is the person that is eating a burger, putting on mascara or picking their nose, talking on the phone, rummaging on their passenger side seat and/or smacking their dog or child, all whilst driving their vehicle. These people are usually the ones that one might mistake for a drunk on the road, as they tend to veer over lanes while tending to all of their other "important" matters. They seem to have several sets of hands, though the most important ones are not on the wheel, nor are their eyes engaged on the road.

2. The Cutter: The Cutter isn’t necessarily late, they just can't WAIT. They cut--cut--cut off every single car in their path. If there is a traffic jam, they take it upon themselves to drive up the shoulder and make others eat their dust, even when the line has been politely waiting. They somehow squeeze their cars in just because they can and want to. They insist on weaving in and out. Who knows. Maybe its some sort of pent up energy. It's their world, we are just living in it.

3. The Blinker, 1 & 2: There are two types of Blinkers: Blinker #1 is the person that NEVER turns off their stinkin' blinker! No one knows where they are going, what their next move is and whether to be on the offense or defense. The other Blinker, Blinker #2 does not USE a blinker! They weave in and out, bobbing their heads while humming songs of peace, freedom and happiness while those around them dodge the bullet of these hellions of the road!

4.The Braker:Brake.Drive.Brake.Drive.Noreason.Justbrakingbecausetheycan.Brake.Drive.
Especially.irritating.on.freeways.when.there.is.a.nice.long.stretch.of.nothing.and.they.just.stop.Brake.Drive.Brake.Drive.Especiallyscarywhengoinguparamp.Brake.Drive.Brake.Drive.

5. The Rollers: They live on my street. I deal with them daily. Rollers don't believe in stop signs -- they just go through. They don't care that there are three other cars that might possibly be in the right to go, they just fly through the sign, smugly going on their merry way. Forget it if you are on a bike or blades, pray now, head for a ditch.

The list is endless. This is only the beginning.

Great Maya Quote

There is nothing so pitiful as a young cynic because he has gone from knowing nothing to believing nothing.

Maya Angelou

creative shizzle

Nothing but drivel
in my head
Can't hold a thought
like my heads filled with lead
a stupid old poem
to fill up some space
creatively shizzled
boring - like Alpine Lace

Life is really not boring right now, but I AM so here is my ode.

Peace out, brothas and sistas!

Blowin' the dust off --

Okay. It's been a while. A lot to say, but you know, not in the exact mood to tell.

Oh. I finally got a new shower head?? What, you may ask?? How lame?? Riight, but you know, just bear with me.

A few months back, Bunnie posted about her super-duper new shower filter. As a true needer of the new and interesting items a friend shares, especially when it promises SMOOTHER SKIN (!!) I figured that would be great fun. Not to mention, I have weird-ass allergies to almost everything that floats in the one-eyed breeding water that filters through just plain ole pipes SO...

The night I got the filter, I thought I would be BIG girl and install it all by my lonesome, but somehow got everything wrong and ended up BREAKING my lovely hand-held showerhead and having a gaping pipe coming out of my wall, minus the new and stellar filter. Having the lovely landlord I do, he came ASAP with his toolbox and sweet oldman plummerbutt to help me fix my mess. Along the way he also brought me this odd, bullet sized adornment for my shower. What, you ask?? It was a shower head of sorts, one that promised to work once we trounced the old broken shower head I'd murdered.

So since then I have been showering with this SPRAYING DEMON of a showerhead. It sometimes reminds me of prison movies, you know, when they are being brutally hosed off before being sent their cell. Or in Silkwood when they are trying to get the radiation off of them.

Why didn't I change it?? I couldn't get the damn thing off and did not want to bother the Landlord again. But yesterday I bought a spanking new showerhead and decided that I was smart enough to fix this. And I did. And then I took a 50 minute shower (I was really starting to smell!). Aaahhh, the beauty of the new shower head.

Oh, and I was in Chicago last week, which was LOVELY. Being in my hometown is an exact 180 to my world here. Its sloooooow and lucky for me, I'd just missed a massive heat wave and instead was blessed with high 70's weather with tons of breeze. Lovely. I visited with my closest friends and family and just chillaxed. I was actually growing antsy with the quiet and ended my trip in the area called, Andersonville, which is at the very north tip of the city -- niiice.

AND I've been thinking alot about the recent spill of Spelling Bee movies that KEEP coming out:

I've decided that the first of the spelling bee movies ("Spellbound") was quite interesting and cute, but now three are JUST too many and watching a bunch of children pee themselves in fear over misspelled words and the stress of word rules is just cruel. FUNNY, but cruel. Funny like:



Happy Weekend!!

I haven't been to Laguna Beach since I was 19 (which was just a few years ago -- WHOSE counting??)



No. Really. It's been way too long. Laguna Beach was the first California I'd ever experienced back in the 90's with my friend, Froot. Fake ID in hand and 10 days of baby oil and the most SERIOUS tan I've ever been in my life, it was one of several reasons I'd considered moving West.



Boy have I been missing out!!!

As a pioneer in

being a "creative" cooker and baker, I am not sure WHAT to say ...




Hostess Twinkies Sushi

(www.hostesscakes.com)

Stars and Stripes forever --

While Burberry plaid is NOT my favorite blend of visual aid, there is something so soothing about seeing people doused in it all over the streets in one of the cleanest, most interesting cities I've ever visited: Washington, D.C.

I was really going to D.C. to visit my darlings, who'd moved there from L.A. back in November. I just figured we would sightsee a little. I didn't know I'd get SO inspired and fall in love.

Arriving in Baltimore at 6:15 in the morning on Thursday, I squinched my eyes to see my fabulous friend, armed with coffee and ready to show me the town. Once we were back at the beautiful apartment, the rule was made: no more car.

From there until yesterday, after my battle with United Airlines (who apparently said I never showed up on my first flight so they "zeroed" out my second flight, leaving me with the possibility of more time in D.C.) we were on foot or on train.

The trains in D.C. are super clean. There are no food or drink allowed and one will get ticketed if you try to cheat the system. Taking the metro to the downtown the first day, we got out to arrive at "the mall". When I was told we were going to the "the mall" I of course thought we were in for a day of shopping. Nope.

The National Mall is actually an open park of sorts, filled with amazing gardens, little trails and the pond (the one you've seen in millions of movies and TV snippets), where we fed some VERY obese ducks. It is also the area surrounded by the Smithsonian museums (who knew there were more than one?? I didn't!), monuments and memorials. On one side was the Washington Monument and directly east, the Capitol of the U.S.



At one of the Smithsonians, I was able to sneak a peak at the Hope Diamond (until one of satan's spawn stuck there grubby little head in my way!) There will prolly be better pics with the coming days, but you get the gist --



Everywhere we walked, there were doses of history and unbelievable architecture. In Georgetown, we went to the Old Stone House or "the oldest house in D.C." The house was built in 1765 (it has that attic-musty smell) but has all of its original ornamentation, flooring, etc. Beyond this unique little piece of history, Georgetown was breathtaking.

Walking around the city was mesmerizing as there is just so much to see. The homes are like fortresses and all of the buildings look old school and charming. Of course, there is history oozing from every orifice! And because there'd been rain, the air was crisp and there was so much green and CLEAN air.



I guess what struck me was the passion in the air. There isn't a "look at me, look at who I'm trying to be" or anything of the like attitude. It's about rules, amendments and rights, everywhere. Milling around the outskirts of the White House were a myriad of different groups, doing their "Power to the People" rights thing. Hitting the streets were the "suits," bustling about to lobby for this or for that. And truly, whether or not you believe in what some of these people have to say (including the dude in the White House), there is just something to be said for the rules of the past, present and future that isn't just something one person conjured up, but something for the ages.

There is SO much more to say, but I am still a little overwhelmed and my calves are still trying to adjust to their permanent sore-state from ALL of the walking :)

Random

"...memories are a funny thing. If enough time goes by you can put anything behind you and start a new life and change yourself."

Anon

It's a SUNSHINE day --

Well, not quite. Wassup with this dreary-ass weather??

P.S. (whispering) - As a nerdified member of Team Jolie, I am completely horrified that Jenifer Aniston bought digs with Vince Vaughn in Chicago -- WHY??? WHY????

Department Sore

Since the hater in me is alive and well, I thought I could share the next leg of my journey into the bewilderment of things I hate.

I hate department stores. I know lame, right??

You see, I grew up being a mallrat, just because, in a small town, that's all there is to do. I also did not know the beauty of boutiques, resale/thrift shops and all the rest in the bevy of the unknown for duds of the wunderkind.

I love clothes, but what I really love are random clothes. Its kind of like being a well of useless knowledge, but it also reigns in my world of clothing. I like the odd and weird and pairing them with the norm. And of course, I love vintage anything, but that's a whole other story.

Anyway. I decided today to look nice. I am going out this evening and chose a comfy but cute dress that looks even better with my favorite black boots. I am a boot girl. Stevie Nicks, the COOLEST woman in rock n roll and possibly evar, got me started on my obsession with boots. I used to have a zillion pairs. Now I have six. They are all black. They are all different. Today's boots are/were the "nice" ones. Fabric-y, stretchy, cozy with a mad heel. Only today, the left heel isn't mad -- it's PISSED.

A few weeks back, I had a weekend of debauchery with a group of my friends and I believe I dropped my vacuum cleaner on the base of my left boot. Yes, long story, different day, but yes. I did it.

And now I have a wonky boot heel. I walked into work this morning feeling the unsteadiness on my left. As the day bore on (and I mean "bore" on) I felt it more and more. After careful inspection and a few crackily shakes, the heel is 'off' -- not quite, but on its way.

While I am opting to fix it, in the meantime I thought I would trot on down to Macy's at the Century City Mall. I don't mind this mall. It's outdoors. There is no pressure. It's not like that mall I call Alcatraz -- the Beverly Center. (After almost six years in this town, I can't park near "Alcatraz" -- it scares me. No windows, no air, no light -- NO WAY. The closest I've gotten is St. Nicks Pub down the street. Fun bar :) Anyway.

I drove to the mall. Parked my metal box of torture and headed upward. The mall is very nice. You don't have to actually go into stores, its just good people watching and star-sightings. But I was on a mission. I browsed thru the make-up department, sprayed some ginger essence and headed on up.

Floor Two is women's shoes. When I arrived, I started my descent into Hell. I was overwhelmed. Dizzy even. Shoes were everywhere, on little leveler-thingys and set out amongst one another like little gangs. After teetering over with the vast amounts of shoeage surrounding me, I hustled among the shoes, to note that there were no boots, not ONE pair. In fact, there weren't even any closed-toed shoes. Sandals mocked me. Flip-flops (very expensive ones, at that) flipped me off in only a way a summer shoe could. I even tried on a pair of open-toed shoes, but realized it was all just wrong, wrong, wrong.

A saleslady came up with her little bespectacled face to ask if I needed help (no comment) and when I asked about boots, she chuckled in only a way an older, condescending woman could and said, "Sweetie, this store is seasonal. It's practically Summer".

I call that seasonal-unreasonable.

Sticky business

On my way home from work yesterday, I tried to go to the gym. As I got into my car, this deep-rooted anger came over me. I just wanted to fucking walk. I did not want to get into my vehicle. I did NOT want to drive. I did not want to pass go. Eff the $200 -- I just wanted to fucking walk and enjoy the breezy, beautiful day. I wanted to walk and get things done, like running to the drug store and window-shopping, but alas, that is not my life, so I trudged to the gym to start 20 minutes of anger-ridden, HATE-lifting while surrounded by the most SNARKY crowd of people I have ever seen. And while my gym is high-fallutin' and all, its also got a nice "Bad-news-bears" thing happening, so its never too pretty. Last night was an exception. And of course, it couldn't have hit at a worse time.

For some reason unbeknown to me, I started to feel stressed out in a way I haven't felt in eons. I felt tense and pissed and a million other foul emotions after leaving the snarks behind. I decided I should just head home and walk in the 'hood, get some errands done, etc. As I started my departure from my gym at a time of night that should be lighter, traffic-wise, I turned as I do into the cluster-fuck of the century. And I sat. And sat. And sat. I started to sweat. My heart was pounding, my fists were tense and I started CRYING. Yes, I started crying like a big freaking baby. R called at this point and I freaked out. I don't know why but I was beyond just "fuck, I'm stuck in traffic," but was more like, "FUCK, I am just STUCK" (poetry, right??)

I moved at a snails pace as I ranted to R about my hate at that moment for all this bullshit traffic and how I could (and have) walked faster than this turtle paced bullshit.

After getting off the tel, I turned down a side-street after seeing ahead that there was more crazy, squished up traffic. As I turned, there was a moment of freedom. I was free. I was able to "drive" -- until I turned back onto a connecting street that was stopped up like a constipated persons stool. And the tears started again.

As I got home almost an hour and 20 minutes later, I was beaten down, pissed off and drained. I managed to get ONE errand done of foot in my neighborhood. I talked to a few friends and specifically felt better when two of them who get the whole "demographics," lack of transportation choices, etc., thing and felt WAY better.

As the night wore on, I finally calmed down, popped open a beer and had a moment of clarity: I HATE being stuck. I hate being stuck with my shoe in gum, I hate having a heel stuck in a grating, I hate being stuck in traffic and I HATE being stuck in life. I need freedom and freeflow. I love being able to control my time and how its being wasted or NOT wasted.

I HATE being stuck.

Dismembered Bunny - -

Easter is officially over.

" -- closes another bottle opens"

Having one of your closest friends leave after a visit, especially when you've a) been off of work, b) had SOOO much fun and c) realized that time does not change a thing in your friendship, but make it even MORE clear WHY you're friends, is very hard. Rather than go into a long story, let's just say it made me SO happy to have Buddy here but as always, the party MUST end (even though I must say, we can really keep up -- we're NOT quitters, are we??)

On a different note, my favorite bar in the city of Chicago has closed. There had been rumors for years that it was closing, but its official, 2710 N Halsted St, otherwise known as "GRIFFINS PUB HOUSE" is now just a blank space. Whatever replaces it will no longer mean a thing to me. That sucks.

Griffins was in part of the "triangle" of great little pubs (and yes, Chicago is lined with them, but these were MY pubs) on Halsted. Across the street is Peg Leg O'Sullivans and kitty corner, Alive One. While the other two are GREAT bars, Griffins always had a special place in my heart -- and near a Walgreens, a Dunkin' Donuts (yay) and the Lincoln Park Fire Department (hubba hubba). And you could could show up in sweats and not care.

Griffins was the grooviest little dive in a very cut-throat, hipster area. Lincoln Park is a town of Trixies and Chads, but Griffins had a gentle way of inviting you in, minus any hipster, snobby influence. The bar outside was adorable. It looked like a little elf house with shutters. Inside was a even cuter -- like a happy den. Yummy Irish food was served til all hours and beer flowed as it only can in Chicago. There were Dead bands almost every night and if there weren't, there could be jazz, drums circles OR the jukebox, blaring out favorites. The crowds were always peace-minded folks that were friendly and filled with drinking capacity that could make a regular persons eyes glaze over. And the staff?? Equally fun, equally giving and totally cool. The type of staff that if you and your friends were having the BEST time ever, they would stay open (or close and let you and your friends stay in) until the night or someone was done. So needless to say, I spent many bleary-eyed nights until the likes of 5 a.m., sitting, laughing, dancing and having the best time.

It was close to my old home in Lincoln Park. My own Cheers bar. I was able to walk, run and even rollerblade there, (though the roller-blading took place after a near mugging, I still managed to make it to the bar)!!

Last summer I was in for a visit and had my friends meet there. The bartender got wind of my love of their bar and knew I chose this pub over the other 10,000 bars in the city -- everything changed. No one paid a cent and drinks were flowing all night long -- and I mean ALL NIGHT long. They stayed open until we were ready to leave. There were shots -- not the gun kind, either. There was beer. And there were tons of laughs. And my friends loved it, as did I.

I now will live with my fond little memories and sadly, go back to visit and not really know WHERE to go (okay, that's a lie, but really --). (And who KNEW there was an (ulp) myspace for Griffins ---) http://www.myspace.com/griffinspublichouse

Fare thee well.

Oh and Idol update: While I thought Kelly was awful, I would still like Ace to go home. And Rod Stewart seems like a very nice man (nice like SOSSAGE)

Mr. Rogers and his not-so idyllic face...

Idol...

Firstly, another week of the most boring performances ever. The fact it took me and neighbor friend over two hours to get thru (she has Tivo, ya'll) -- was truly like watching paint dry. As I said to NF, the nice thing this season is that the kids are ALL consistently pretty good, but their song choices are VILE.

I'm truly a little more rock n' roll than country, but even I could have picked better songs. I think Bucky is going to be sent home.

But let's talk about the former, rugged and good-looking Mr. Kenny Rogers, who was yet another guest host to help the kids and their singing. WHAT ON EARTH did he do to his poor mug?? Gone is the wispy, floppy hair. Now of course. I understand. He's also 20 years older, but the face...the face!! Its like a melted down version of once was a country crooner and a manly-man cowboy. He's replaced his face with a rubber ball...

Very sad. Joan Rivers should be so proud that someone, besides Melissa, is following in her footsteps.

sticking it to the man...

At the risk of being "dooced", one might say I must speaketh in tongue. I am not good at being barked at by humans, nor am I good at taking direction from one who speaks in gibberish. I am less apt to do anything with my heart and soul for one who clearly does not own one or the other. It's hard for me to listen when there is a volume that could force my eyelashes to fall off, one by one. It's equally difficult for me to care when someone's main concern is themself and how they can make more $$$. I feel contempt when said person is not only using this barrage of unbearable behavior, NOT just with me, but with someone who is not even in the line of fire.

Wacky.

Anyway. My Idol predictions for last week were correct -- though I am hardly looking forward to the country version of this evening. What'a girl to do?? It's raining!