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
Monday, July 02, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
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 :)
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 :)
Monday, June 18, 2007
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
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
Monday, June 11, 2007
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!
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!
Monday, June 04, 2007
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!
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!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
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!!!
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!!!
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
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!
(Don't let that monster named SANTA get you...)
jk...hope its peaceful!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
"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!
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!
Monday, November 06, 2006
"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.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, October 13, 2006
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!
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!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
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.
"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.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
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
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
Friday, September 01, 2006
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!!
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).
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And a shout out to my darling niece who turns (ulp) 18 on September 5. Happy Happy my sweet baby girl!!
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