I'm on Vacation!

And having the time of my life!

















I'm in Flagstaff, AZ. Sure, it's 31 degrees, but it's also mellow and different and earthy and fun. Don't let the above photo mislead you. I'm happy to be here.

I'm writing this from a three star hotel I splurged on for $80 a night. I'm enjoying a glass of red wine from the hotel bar (aptly named "Lounge") while warming my toes by the fireplace in the lobby. A family of three plays cribbage on the table in front of me. A man to my right speaks French into a cell phone. Every time someone comes through the sliding front doors a chilly wind interferes with our contentedness.

I forgot that Flagstaff is home to my favorite coffee shop ever - Macy's on Beaver Street! I even bought a T-shirt. Favorite is a strong word, but it's definitely a contender among the top five. Not necessarily in any particular order, my favorite coffee places are:

1. Macy's - Flagstaff, AZ
2. The Market - Denver, CO
3. Kafein - Evanston, IL
4. The Iguana Cafe - Tahlequah, OK
5. Sabor y Cultura - Hollywood, CA

I'd say the criteria are good coffee, good pastries, cozy atmosphere, cleanliness, and feeling like no one will mind if you stay for several hours. I did a search on best Chicago coffee shops and was disappointed to see I was unfamiliar with them all! I will check them out on my next extended trip, and, if you live there, maybe you should go see what the fuss is about!

Back to Flagstaff. I first discovered it very much by accident on a road trip around the Southwest in spring of '05. It was a cheaper alternative to staying in Sedona, and it ended up being the most surprising and wonderful of all the cities I stayed in (the others were Vegas, Durango, Moab, and Santa Fe). It appeals to the side of me that craves an acre of land, a garden, mountains, simplicity, community, and lots of time to do things like knit and make jelly.

On this trip I've taken a yoga class, read my book (In America by Susan Sontag, a gift from Shrek's mom Eloise), strolled through downtown Flagstaff, driven to Sedona for a cheap massage, eaten sushi last night, anchovy mushroom pizza tonight, shopped at Target, written a wee bit, thought about writing a whole heck of a lot, drove 50 miles in the snow tonight and truly nearly died while passing a truck, and... that about sums it up. Nothing too exciting, but just right.

I was originally scheduled to fly to Chicago last week, but through a series of unfortunate events I found myself in standby hell. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that I pity everyone who tried to fly on this holiday week. And another snowstorm destined for Denver tomorrow! Sad, sad, sad.

I'll share some photos from my trip.

View from my hotel room window this morning after a night of snow!












I was horrified to find that somewhere along the way I'd given up my snow scraper, or whatever the heck you call that thing. I know. Shameful. I searched my trunk and found a way to make do with a plastic flowerpot.












A barber in town. His client requested not to be in the photo.













Lastly, a foggy view of the beautiful Sedona redrock.












Tomorrow it's back to LA! Flagstaff, until we meet again....

Results

In case you were wondering what the fudge would look like when it was done, here you go:Yes, that is the fudge in my garbage can. But that's the bad batch. There was a good batch too.
Let's begin at the beginning. To save money and be crafty, I was going to make everyone fudge squares. It was going to take four batches. The first one was delightful and came out perfectly, but then I got hasty and made the last three all together in a dutch oven.


Mmm... sugar, half and half, chocolate, butter... so yummy. The problem was not grouping the batches, but that I ran out of sugar and thought it would be okay to sub sugar in the raw - you know, the fat, grainy sugar? Big mistake. It never dissolved all the way, and so even when it hardened it looked like raw brownie batter. Live and learn.

Today being my last day of work before the break, I would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and all that jazz. I may not have much to say until January 2, but I hope you will join me then for another year of blogging adventures!

Today's Coffee Beverage: Iced NF chai soy latte from Starbucks.

Loose Change

Celeb Spotting:
I saw Studio 60's Sarah Paulson checking out shoes at Nordstrom at The Grove Friday night, then watched the Tivo'd Christmas episode of her show, which was fantastic. Did you guys see that? With the New Orleans jazz players? Loved it.

I think she's extremely talented and have had my eye on her since Down with Love, but what amazes me most is that she went from character actress to ingenue with a single bottle of peroxide. Food for thought.



More later....

Cheap Christmas Gift Idea

If you're stuck with a lot of people to gift and not much cash to do it, I'll let you borrow the idea I came up with yesterday:

Peppermint Fudge Squares in Pretty Little Baggies

You need the fudge recipe, which looks simple enough. Note: sub peppermint extract for vanilla, and while the fudge is hardening sprinkle some crushed candy canes on top.

You also need to make a trip to Michaels (the craft store), where they have a baking aisle. Get clear plastic baggies (enough for four 1 inch squares) and those candy paper holders (I got GOLD for some extra holiday pizazz). Don't forget to buy the 8x8 inch pan if you need one. Then find some pretty ribbon to tie the bags, plus some holiday tags to let everyone know who created these culinary gems. All this cost me under $20.


I think they'll turn out splendidly. I'll take a photo of the finished product and post it later!

Have a lovely weekend!

Today's Coffee Beverage: Plain old Starbucks latte.

The Curse of Fame

Last night I saw a screening of The Good Shepherd. I had no expectations, but I walked out of that movie absolutely BLOWN AWAY. It comes out December 22 and I will definitely be seeing it again.

In the midst of falling more and more in love with the movie every single second, I was also very AWARE of Angelina Jolie when she was onscreen. In other words, she didn't just blend in as another character, because obviously her life over the past year has been all over the news. Yet another example of how being a celebrity must suck.

I found myself thinking things like:

She has fantastic breasts! I'll bet Brad enjoys them.
Wasn't she pregnant while filming this movie?
Hmmm, she does seem to have a very natural way with children.
I wonder if it's weird to kiss Matt Damon, since he is good friends with Brad?
I wonder if I grew my hair out, lost 20 lbs, and got collagen injections I could look like her... sister?
It seems like it would be fun to adopt a bunch of kids.
Interesting that she can be so demure, when in real life she seems very intimidating.
I want her life.

I am well aware that all these thoughts are silly and indicative of my mild obsession with celebrity gossip, and that even by blogging about it I am perpetuating the suckiness of celebrity. But I simply can't help it.


I'm going to go to People.com now and read about what Brangelina did yesterday.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Peet's iced NF white chocolate latte.

Three's Company

I glanced out the window at two guys talking loudly in a car while we waited at a red light on Barham. Both our windows were open. Nothing tops the winter air in LA. The driver saw me.

"Excuse me," he called out from two lanes over to the left.

I rolled down my window all the way and put on my I'm-great-at-directions face.

"Do you know how I could get to the... Regal Beagle?"

I knew it sounded familiar. I scanned my brain and looked at them hopelessly before I realized...

I'D BEEN HAD!

Today's Coffee Beverage: Iced NF Pumpkin Spice Latte.

"Why Don't You Go Outside...

...and jerk yourself a soda?"

Anyone know that line? Anyone at all?

Annette Bening to Warren Beatty in Bugsy, the movie during which they fell in love. I remember reading an article where Warren said he loved the expression on her face when she said that line. Makes you want to go out and rent the movie to see it, right?


At the time I did just that, and who could have guessed that a few years later I would be dashing into Peet's with the legendary couple sitting on a bench outside, drinking coffee and reading the paper? I glanced at each one for only a moment, but it was unmistakably them. Annette with her big movie star glasses and signature red lips, Warren slightly disheveled, both looking mellow.

I ignored them both while freaking out internally, got my iced peppermint mocha, and passed them again on my way back to the car. Some knucklehead couldn't resist making himself at home next to them on the bench and blabbering away. They politely listened.

It must suck to be a celebrity.

Keep Your Job in 2007

This month's issue of Business 2.0 magazine features several pages called, "How to Succeed in 2007," which you can read online HERE. It's more or less snippets of advice from leaders in the business world. The Google boys teach you how to Succeed with Simplicity, and the chairman of Starbucks encourages you to Dare to Be a Social Entrepreneur.

I was surprised not to be among those interviewed, to be honest. I may not run a company, but I was fairly successful in 2006: I finished my first solo TV spec script, shaved a couple minutes off my mile time, and recently brought some old clothes to Goodwill. Not to mention, I've continued my lifelong streak of never getting fired from a job.

It's true! I'm not even sure it's something to be proud of, but it's true. Heck, the job before this one I tried to get fired, but they gave me a second chance. That story will one day have its own blog entry. So, for those who are interested, I present:

Gotta Kielbasa's How to Not Get Fired in 2007

1. Show up on time.
It's amazing how many people blow this one, and it's not even that hard. But in most workplaces, punctual=responsible.

2. Keep your cool.
Get seated with three four-tops at once? Submit something for your boss 6 hours after the absolute, official, no-arguments deadline at the WGA? Breathe a little, figure it out, and make it work.

3. Find someone who will let you vent.
Preferably someone outside the workplace. Preferably someone who will tell you it's time to shut up.

4. Know when it's time to go.
When the challenge and fun of the job are gone, so is the point. Overstay your welcome and your bitterness will start to poke through like a G-string in low-rise jeans. Throw out your waitressing shoes with a Mary Tyler Moore twirl and never look back.

Follow these rules, friends, and I can guarantee you another year FILLED with dreaming of the good life while getting paid well below your worth!

Today's coffee beverage: Hot white chocolate latte.

I'm Watching You

In a previous post I mentioned that everyone poops. Dogs poop too.

I happen to be sensitive about dogs. What I mean is, I make sure that people are not inflicting their dogs on my life. This is especially true about the millions - maybe frillions - of dog owners in Los Angeles.

Dog owners in LA are like no other. They carry dogs in purses, dye their shitzhu's hair pink, and most appalling of all, bring their "best friends" to work. If I can't bring my best friend to work then neither can you! Sometime in history before I arrived to LA, these ways of life became acceptable.

I can't control any of that, but I CAN control the poop problem. You know, owners who don't pick up their dog's poop because they think no one is watching? My friends, I am always watching.

You have to be on the lookout. If the owner plans to pick up the poop, she is on alert while the dog is pooping. She holds the plastic bag, or futzes in her pocket for it, or looks around for a nearby garbage can.

The non-picker-upper, on the other hand, stares into the distance while his dog is squatting, looks up at the sky, studies architecture, tries to will himself invisible. He pretends the dog is not even there.

When I see this, I time my walk so that I pass them just as the dog hops up and scurries away. The owner makes sure I pass them by and turns to walk in the opposite direction. That's when I WHIP around and startle the owner by saying, "Aren't you going to pick up your dog's poop?" I open my eyes wide, and feign hurt and confusion at the person's obvious violation of the law.

The owner will usually lie and say, "I was gonna pick it up," or, "I was gonna come back later and pick it up." Depending on my level of hostility that morning I give them a hard time or simply shake my head, disappointed in them, and walk away.

My favorite experience was last week in Griffith, when I confronted a man and he said, indignantly, "Go away. Go on." But, of course I did not. "Don't you know that the environmental impact of plastic in a landfill is worse than for his waste to disintegrate into nature?" Ooooh, the man had a speech prepared! "I'm sick of people like you," he told me with disgust.

I watched as he pulled a bag out of his pocket and bent down to gather the poop. All I could think was, "There are others out there like me?!"

I should gather the others together and form a neighborhood caucus. This could be the start of a movement.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Nothing yet, but I'm dreaming about it.

Inside Jokes

This email made me laugh till I cried. Probably because I have lived in Chicago.

Here is what Jeff Foxworthy has to say about Chicago!

If your local Dairy Queen is closed from September through May, you live in Chicago.

If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don't work there, you live in Chicago.

If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you live in Chicago.

If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you live in Chicago.

If "Vacation" means going anywhere south of I - 80 for the weekend, you live in Chicago.

If you measure distance in hours, you live in Chicago.

If you have switched from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day and back again, you live in Chicago.

If you can drive 75 mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching, you live in Chicago.

If you carry jumpers in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you live in Chicago.

If you design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you live in Chicago.

If the speed limit on the highway is 55 mph -- you're going 80 and everybody is passing you, you live in Chicago.

If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you live in Chicago.

If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter and road construction, you live in Chicago.

If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car, you live in Chicago.

If you find 10 degrees "a little chilly," you live in Chicago.

Rule #1

If you suspect someone you are about to meet might be important, never, EVER search them on IMDb first.

I say this because, unless you are completely evolved, if the person is accomplished you may feel compelled to treat them differently. More special, I mean. This will always be annoying to said person. They poop just as you and I do, you know.

Today, for example, is madness in the office; the last day my boss is in town, and as a result he has a packed sched. One of the things he is doing is meeting with an outside writer. So I set up the meeting and what do I do with the writer's name? Search it, of course.

The man has an impressive resume a mile long, requiring several scrolls down the page. Ten minutes ago he got here, and I was all breathy and in awe as I shook his hand. "Helloooo," I said with a dumb smile on my face.

Then I took him into my boss' office. I wasn't thinking straight! Why the hell would I DO that? My boss is going to come back from lunch and see this strange man sitting on his couch before any introductions have been made. But I had been too frazzled to think about that because I was flashing back to the writer's resume. Now I can't very well ask him to come back to MY office, can I? No, I cannot.

I became a fawning concierge; dangling cold water, soda, and magazines, all with a silly grin over which I had no control. To every offer he shook his head and said, "I'm good," in his low, even tone. I tried to call my boss on his cell phone and tell him to hurry up and get over here, plus was going to warn him that I accidentally put the writer in his office... "Yes, already... I don't KNOW why, I just did, okay?! So don't be alarmed." While my boss' phone rang on the line, I could also hear it vibrating on his desk. Dammit!

Meanwhile, the writer is all alone in there. Maybe needing someone to whom he can talk and tell interesting stories....

I think I'll go check!

Music to Your Ears

More later, but here's something to keep you busy. Have you heard of Last FM? Maybe I'm late to the train on this one, but it's a neat web radio where you type in an artist you like and they play music in that same style, possibly introducing you to artists you've never heard of. There's more to it if you start a free account and all that, but that's enough for me.

Borat sez: "I hope-ah you liiike-eh."

Today's Coffee Beverage: I'm really hating myself for my addiction today. It's expensive. I'm going to go cut myself now, and savor the punishment.

Whodunit?

What did you do this weekend? See a movie? Go to brunch? Get an oil change? How boring and sad for you.

Maybe you should think about finding some fun friends, like the ones who throw murder mystery parties! I happen to be so lucky, and this Sunday I spent some time prepping for the event of the year*.

The party was hosted by T-finger and JollyB in their comfortable and beautifully decorated West Hollywood home. Guests were sent information in advance on who their character was and how to dress. I was Sophia Provanzano, Sicilian mob queen. Shrek was Ed Sloan, used-car salesman. His costume was beyond perfect, down to the faux combover.

I was impressed with the variety of characters, and how into it everyone got with the costumes and playing along. We had a princess, French maid, Mayor, Elvis, Southern belle, and Jessica Simpson, just to name a few.

The night went like this: We arrived promptly at 6pm,and received a questionnaire to fill out while getting to know everyone (#4 was, "Find the person who has chrome hubcaps." Me!). Alcohol was served. Once all the guests had arrived, JollyB announced that envelopes would be given out to everyone. The contents were unknown even to the hosts, and the information inside would tell us if we were the murderer, or if not, clues to lead us to the murderer of Skip Styles (a dummy splattered with ketchup near JollyB's computer). Once we thought we knew who the killer was, we wrote it down, time-stamped it, and gave it to the hosts. At the end, the first person to turn in the correct answer was the winner!

At first, I was intent on 1) misleading everyone into thinking I was the murderer, and 2) finding that bastard so he would never kill again, so help me God. My "information" told me to interrogate the maid. I did. She was shifty, and didn't look like she ate much. I never trust those girls.

There was a lot of delicious food at the party (real tamales, tortelloni, hand-made dolmas, lots of cheese and crackers) and I needed to balance out the rum lemonades I was having. I decided the maid was as guilty as anyone at the party, wrote it down, and proceeded to start grazing in the kitchen. In character, of course.

Turns out, the killer was --

Come on. You know I can't tell you. You have to host your own party and figure it out yourself! Congrats and thanks to the hosts for throwing such a great bash.


_____
*For people who don't get to attend the Emmys or Oscars.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Java Chip Light Frappucino. Yummy.

Snow Day

Are there any two words in the English language that can elicit more giddiness in a Midwest girl than "snow day?" I think not. I awoke to yet another sunny, Southern Californian morning with a text message from DeeHo in Chicago:

"it's a snow day!!! look at the news!!"

I instantly crawled back in bed with a smile on my face. No school today. Instead, a day filled with snowsuits, and snowball fights with the kids on Churchill Street. Then, change out of our wet clothes and going to Frankie's house across the way to watch TV and play gin rummy and Uno, on a day that stretched on forever in its silent white perfection. Soon, the plows would come down the street and we'd watch the falling snowflakes get smaller, more drifty, until eventually it was just lake-effect snow, all but meaningless, and certainly not enough snow to bring us another gift like this day.

A few years back, when I was living in Chicago, I heard a poem read on the radio that exactly captures the essence of a snow day. I'm reprinting it without permission, but I hope that the author Billy Collins knows it is in appreciation of a poem that makes me nostalgic and giggly. I found it at this poetry site. Enjoy, and have some hot cocoa for me!

Snow Day

By Billy Collins

Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,

its white flag waving over everything,

the landscape vanished,

not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,

and beyond these windows

the government buildings smothered,

schools and libraries buried, the post office lost

under the noiseless drift,

the paths of trains softly blocked,

the world fallen under this falling.

In a while, I will put on some boots

and step out like someone walking in water,

and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,

and I will shake a laden branch

sending a cold shower down on us both.

But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,

a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.

I will make a pot of tea

and listen to the plastic radio on the counter,

as glad as anyone to hear the news

that the Kiddie Corner School is closed,

the Ding-Dong School, closed.

the All Aboard Children’s School, closed,

the Hi-Ho Nursery School, closed,

along with—some will be delighted to hear—

the Toadstool School, the Little School,

Little Sparrows Nursery School,

Little Stars Pre-School, Peas-and-Carrots Day School

the Tom Thumb Child Center, all closed,

and—clap your hands—the Peanuts Play School.

So this is where the children hide all day,

These are the nests where they letter and draw,

where they put on their bright miniature jackets,

all darting and climbing and sliding,

all but the few girls whispering by the fence.

And now I am listening hard

in the grandiose silence of the snow,

trying to hear what those three girls are plotting,

what riot is afoot,

which small queen is about to be brought down.

_______
Billy Collins, “Snow Day” from Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems (New York: Random House, 2001). Copyright © 2001 by Billy Collins. Reprinted with the permission of Sll/Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc.

The Shoes

Last night was Shrek's company's holiday party at Lucky Strike at Hollywood & Highland. Wonderful fun! I had never been to this place but would most certainly go again. It's like a hip and roomy bar that happens to have bowling. Lots of groups there, but not overly crowded. Also, not too dark or noisy. Seems like a nice place to have a birthday party. If you have yours there, be sure to invite me.
I wore my finest bowling attire:

Roommate DeeHo is in Chicago for a couple of weeks. The first few days she is gone are always great; I leave dishes in the sink, try on her clothes, and sleep in her super-luxurious bed if I feel like it (it's cool, she knows). And while I used to really enjoy living alone, I've grown to love the mundane end-of-the-day chitchat you experience with a great roommate. Since she's not online right now for me to IM, I'm going to say a quick hello across the country....

Hi D! So, this week I borrowed the following from your closet: the red boatneck long-sleeve shirt Monday, your black peacoat yesterday, and today your beige corduroy skirt. I promise to have it all washed by the time you return. The skirt was a MUST because yesterday I got the cutest shoes on the planet. Chocolate brown patent leather pointy-toe kitten heel shoes. You'll die. They make me feel as sassy as a girl with an entirely see-through bowling outfit. Got 'em at Marshalls. $40. Not bad, right? But of course I still feel guilty because I should be spending that money on Chanukah gifts for you.

When I showed off my shoes to Lynn in casting she commented on how they show the tops of my toes and that apparently some men consider that sexy. She called it "foot cleavage." DeeHo, have you ever heard of such a thing?! I have not, but I'll go with it. I've never thought of my toes that way before. I'll flash Shrek and say, "Hey baby. Notice anything different about my feet?"

I miss you and your fab pajamas. Come home soon!

Today's Coffee Beverage: Green Tea. Okay, that's a lie. Iced peppermint mocha from Coffee Bean. My second time having it, and there's something not quite right about the flavor. I'm retiring that drink.

Holiday Rush

Faithful blog readers, I'm sorry to let you down with my irregularity this week. The Boss is coming to town and it makes things craaaazy! Why, at this very moment I should be in the office fluffing couch pillows and chilling Diet Cokes with Splenda, but I'm frozen in bed with wet hair because I'm freaked out about all there is to do!

I wanted to write all about the change in weather, and I still might later, but for now I will simply elaborate on last week's celeb spotting. Much thanks to the commenter on that post for encouraging me in this shameful and petty sharing of information about celebs' personal lives. I feel dirty.

Mandy Moore was wearing a lovely dress with full hair and makeup. She has the body of a real person and has a nice rump. She ordered an iced coffee and added cream. I tried not to pay attention to any of this but could not help myself. Then she went outside and sat with some unidentifiable blond man. I craned my neck three different ways, but could not tell who he was.

Rachel Bilson, as the person who posted the comment mentioned, is indeed the size of a pinkie finger. No woman should ever be photographed next to her, for fear of looking like Sasquatch. She was eating heartily, I couldn't tell what, but really going at it off her friend's plate. So much so, that if it had been my plate I would have smacked Rachel's hand and said, "Enough, already!" She was with two girls, one of whom looked like she was trying really hard not to think, "Holy shit, I'm having lunch with Rachel Bilson."

Sasquatch Evidence:


Coffee Beverage: Screw the green tea today. I'm getting something BAD.

I Went With the...

...tortilla soup. It was a success!

I hope a lovely Thanksgiving weekend was had by all. Mine was filled with much lounging and leftovers and laundry. My life is consumed by laundry, really. If I'm not thinking about laundry, I'm worried about having enough quarters for laundry. How is it that I just did mountains of it Friday and I already have another load ready to go?

I remember filling in as a nanny one week for a family in Evanston several years ago. Three school-aged kids, a beautiful three-story house on the beach, and the most extravagant thing I'd ever seen in a basement: TWO washers, and TWO dryers! It blew my mind. These folks had to be unbelievably rich. Of course it totally makes sense. When there's that much laundry, it helps to get it done twice as fast. I imagine with kids you have to do it daily. Wake up, fix everyone some Cheerios, and throw in a load of towels.

On a different and unrelated note, I cashed in a gift certificate at the Burke Williams Spa. I got to indulge in a massage which I very badly needed. My masseuse George asked how much pressure I wanted. I gave my standard reply, "Bruise me." I wanted my muscles to fall off and regenerate. He did a fine job. He kneaded my arms for so long I was sure he had molded me into Angela Basset, but no such luck. Looks like it's back to dumbbells tomorrow.

Is everyone else as rested and happy as me? I think we all can make it to Christmas.

RECENT CELEB SPOTTING: Mandy Moore at Coffee Bean on Hillhurst and Rachel Bilson at Mustard Seed for lunch.

Today's Coffee Beverage: I told you... I'm having green tea this week!

Food, Food, and More Food

What are you cooking this Thanksgiving? I am excited to be spending the weekend with my brother Sausage (the little Kielbasa), who will be visiting me from Camp Pendelton. Interestingly, that is his real nickname, given to him by real Marines. Tomorrow we'll be heading over to Shrek's house to eat with his family. I'm delighted to be contributing a soup and desserts to the meal.

I am currently on the hunt for the perfect vegetable minestrone recipe. I used to have a hard copy of a no-fail recipe from my dad, but can't find it, so it's time to start fresh. The three sites I hit up regularly for recipes are FoodNetwork.com, AllRecipes.com, and Epicurious.com. Everyone knows minestrone is a perfectly acceptable addition to any meal.

Secretly, I want to make a tortilla soup for the holiday but I'm not sure how that will sit with Shrek's family. Whoever heard of having tortilla soup on Thanksgiving?! I've been dreaming of making it ever since eating the best bowl ever a few weeks ago at Urth Caffe. 'Twas divine. But I dread the thought of the family going back home to Minnesota and snickering, "Can you believe she made tortilla soup?! So spicy! Those Californians!" But tell me this doesn't make your mouth water:
Also on the menu will be a couple of pies from the venerable House of Pies on Vermont, and a vanilla cheesecake made by yours truly. Recipe courtesy of Vixen.

Now I'm staring at that photo of tortilla soup and wanting it more than ever. Should I make it? I'm torn. If only I could have a sign guiding me about the right thing to do....

Check back Monday to find out what happened on
THE YOUNG AND THE RECIPELESS!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Today's Coffee Beverage: Peet's Iced NF Pepppermint Mocha, but only because I plan on switching to green tea next week. Really.

The Pajama Pageant

Last Saturday I had quite the night out... babysitting.
It was at this sweet little house in The Hills... Woodland Hills.

Yes, I still babysit on occasion. Please don't judge my means of additional income. You wouldn't mind it either if you had the adorable Samantha in your care. She's well-behaved, funny, smart, and five.

This Saturday was like most, where after her bath we prepared for the Pajama Contest. I really have the opportunity to stretch as an actress, playing the pajama saleslady, stage manager, and Master of Ceremonies. Sam is, simply, the Star.

As the saleslady, I have my British accent and present to her a large selection of pajamas from which she may choose. Will it be the fine silk set from Europe? The show-stopping red velour? I offer her invisible coffee and tea and crumpets while she decides, then fetch her the dazzling pink fleece slippers that are sure to make her the winner.

Soon it's time to start the show. I'm the ultimate stage mother making sure she knows the game plan. Three contestants (she plays all of them, but only one is actually Sam), a talent segment that usually features dancing or gymnastics, the catwalk, and finally the award presentation.

"Ladies and Gentlemen...." The excitement is palpable. "From Woodland Hills, California...." Sam closes her eyes and reviews her ballet routine. "Please welcome the very talented, five year old SAM!" She doesn't miss a beat. Woos the crowd with her fancy footwork, her smile, her poise, and, of course, her pajamas. Finally, Sam bows to the sound of two hands clapping as rapidly as possible.

The next two contestants, Nancy from Seattle and Meredith from Cleveland, can't hold a candle to Sam. The competition is over. I present her award with tears of pride, "Ladies, and gentlemen, for the 13th consecutive week, the contest winner is SAM!!!"

Suddenly, I see the clock on the VCR. 8:24pm. I totally forgot about the Dr. 90210 marathon on E! I interrupt Sam's acceptance speech (truthfully, it was getting a bit long), and usher her to bed.

Next time you're out drinking yourself silly and dreading tomorrow's hangover, remember there's a more wholesome way to spend your Saturday, full of laughter and make-believe.

Once you've had enough of that, reward yourself further by watching teen girls try to fix their low self-esteem with plastic surgery. Oh, yeah.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Nursing a pesky cold with Airborne and Emergen-C.

"We Didn't Need Dialogue. We Had FACES!"

Oh, fair blog readers, forgive my neglect on this busy, busy Monday. It seems that today there was real work to be done at the place where I collect a paycheck. Not the usual work that involves the phone or internet, my buttery charm with customer service reps, or my vast stores of trivial knowledge. This was the kind of work that required my perfectionist, anal-retentive folding skills. As in, shirt folding. As in, retail skills. Like Mr. Dynamite, I have alllllll kinds of skills.

I don't think I've been on my feet that many hours since my waitressing days, and those are days I'd just as soon forget. Maybe I needed that. Maybe I'd slipped into tipping in the 20% range, forgetting just how hard it is to serve some ungrateful snot her supper. I needed a day like this to bring me back to my roots, to looking a waitress in the eye when I ordered, and tipping a touch more generously than necessary, and admiring her shapely legs as she walked away.

The saving grace today was getting to watch TV while folding the endless boxes of shirts. First we watch the inimitable Kathy Griffin do her stand-up on Bravo. Good God, I love that woman. I mean, if I were famous I'd be scared shitless of meeting her and having her later make fun of my... everything. But luckily I'm not, and I get to revel in her acute observations on everyone from Anna Nicole to Little Richard to Sharon Stone. AND, she's from Chicago, which makes her that much better.

Next, we watched Sunset Boulevard. It was my first time seeing it. I know, I know, I should be ashamed of myself. I AM. Because that it one outstanding movie. I would have given my right arm, or my life, to play Norma Desmond. Gloria Swanson is heaven. I love when she does the bug eyes. On my next sick day I am for sure renting it and memorizing all her lines and then performing them on my video camera alone in my living room. That's totally normal to do, right?

Looks like you'll get the story I was going to tell you today TOMORROW. So DO come back, won't you? It's about my wild and crazy Saturday night.

Today's Coffee Beverage: I am so damn tired, I can't even remember. It feels like years ago. I remember there was tea and milk all mixed together.

Above and Beyond

Fans of George Clooney will enjoy the following true story I heard the other day from a friend in the biz:

The Make-a-Wish Foundation asked Mr. Clooney if he would take a minute to meet with a sick child who dreamed of meeting him more than anything. Clooney was happy to oblige. However, he told them, he would like to pay to upgrade everything that was being arranged for the family: fly them first class, put them up in the famed Chateau Marmont, and have a limo take them around instead of a cab.

When the family leaves the airport and gets to the limo, George Clooney is waiting inside. He takes them out to dinner before they are dropped off at the hotel. The next morning the limo pulls up and Clooney takes the family out to breakfast before driving with them to the set, where he embarks on a long day of shooting.

The only thing that had ever been asked of George Clooney was to say hello to this child when he came to set. Something tells me the kid went home happy.
I get to stare at that face all... day... long.
______

If you're in need of a belly laugh, please check out this video of my friend Jolly-B performing at a family reunion talent show. It might help to shut the office door and turn your speakers up. Also, you may enjoy the video more with the knowledge that Jolly-B is not hearing-impaired or mentally challenged; that the reunion takes place in Wisconsin; and that the family in question is actually her boyfriend T-finger's, most of them meeting her for the first time. Obviously, she was a hit.
CLICK HERE.

Thanks for visiting, see you Monday!

Today's Coffee Beverage: Iced NF Pumpkin Spice Latte. Starbucks.

Just Plain Koo Koo

What do I spy out the window while waiting in line this morning at Coffee Bean? Two friends sharing a morning tea and some conversation on the patio. I noticed they both worked at Koo Koo Roo, the delicious chicken joint with mac 'n' cheese and the best green beans ever. It struck me as odd that they were already in full uniform. It wasn't even 9am, and here they were in the KKR polo shirt, KKR baseball cap, and, best of all, the KKR APRON! Why anyone would walk around wearing an apron is beyond me, but there must have been a valid reason. Maybe it went like this:

Carmen's cell phone rings.

CARMEN
Hello?
ALEX
Hi Carmen, it's Alex.
(silence)
From work.
CARMEN
Oh, hi Alex. You need a ride to work or something?
ALEX
(deep breath)
I called because I thought we could go to the Coffee Bean before work.
CARMEN
Oh. Well, I already have my uniform on, and I don't really want to change...
ALEX
I have mine on too! Even the apron! We'll both wear it! Together!
CARMEN
Um... okay. So I'll see you in ten minutes.
ALEX
And you can pick me up, right, because my mom has the car today?
CARMEN
Sure.
ALEX
OK bye Carmen!

Oh, Carmen, can't you see how crazy Alex is about you?! On another note, good news about a love story that started much the same way: hearty congratulations to my co-worker Margot on her engagement! She and her beau are known to friends of the blog as Mark Twain and Harry Potter. May they live a long and happy life together, full of potions and magic spells and literary greatness.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Iced NF Mocha

Soderbergh Q&A

Last night I had the pleasure of attending a screening of The Good German, starring George Clooney, Cate Blanchett, and Toby Maguire. Steven Soderbergh, who participated in a Q&A session afterwards, directed the movie. If you count Out of Sight among your favorite films, you may find today’s long post interesting. If you’ve never seen it, I order you to stop reading, leave work, rent it, watch it, thank me, and then join us again tomorrow.

I’m no Roger Ebert, but I’ll tell you what I thought of The Good German (no real spoilers, but read at your own risk). I liked it and want to watch it again because I feel like I missed stuff. It’s in gorgeous black and white, and will remind you in many places of Casablanca. Soderbergh told us later that was what he was going for. Cate Blanchett is stunning, even more so in black and white, and perfect for her role and a movie like this. You haven’t seen cheekbones like that since Katharine Hepburn.

There were two things I loved. One was a shot as it begins to follow Cate through a street. It looks as though the camera is next to her left knee and pointing up at her face. Very dramatic. Another was a time cut in a style that was new to me. Clooney and a woman are standing in a kitchen far apart, and she says, “Aren’t you going to offer me a cigarette?” They cut to another angle but he is already standing right next to her, lighting it. Why is that so cool?!

And now we’ll open it up to the audience. My friend T-finger was the first to ask a question. “Did you shoot it in black and white or color?” Color, said Soderbergh, much to my surprise. Because certain scenes required green screen, they opted to shoot in color. The alternative, if he had wanted to shoot in B&W, would have been to preshoot footage in B&W to project onto a screen while they filmed the actors, and it seemed too time consuming. He knew he could get the same result if they printed on B&W stock.

Soderbergh said he asked the cast to watch a handful of films to show them the shooting and acting styles he was striving for: Casablanca, Mildred Pierce, and White Heat, to name a few. He said, “I wanted to shoot this film the way Michael Curtiz would shoot it.” Curtiz was a contract director at Warner Brothers who worked in many genres. Soderbergh was able to research Curtiz’ old script continuities, so that he would be better able to follow Curtiz’ “rules.” For example, he learned that only five lenses were used for all of Casablanca, so Soderbergh used those same five lenses.

Soderbergh said something he really had to think about while shooting was consistency of tone from day to day. You shoot it one way on week one, and if you’re not careful by week six it’s totally different, and then it doesn’t match. He pointed out that with Kafka, his B&W film from 1991, he felt it suffered from that lack of consistency. Soderbergh said it was unfortunate, knowing what a luxury it was (and is) to get to shoot B&W, to walk away feeling like he didn’t get what he was after.

Everything was shot in town. “Like Casablanca,” said Soderbergh, “we couldn’t leave LA.” An audience member asked where the town of Pottsdam was filmed. “Pottsdam is in Pasadena, as we all know,” he said. Much of the archival footage throughout the movie came from Russia.

As for Cate, Soderbergh said he was completely enamored by her, that he could watch her paint the hash marks on a football field. She required little direction and basically "she showed up with this.” He said they did talk about the Marlene Dietrich voice Cate affects, and that she dropped her voice a register.

Lastly, the moderator asked why Soderbergh was closing up his production company with George Clooney, Section Eight Pictures. Soderbergh said they were simply overwhelmed by the workload. It was six years of eighty-hour workweeks. As producers, you have to read and watch everything, talk to everyone, and it just got to be too much.

I know this was a long one… I hope it didn’t bore you.

Today’s Coffee Beverage: NF White Chocolate Mocha from Starbucks. When the barista handed it to me he said, "This drink was specially crafted to be the highlight of your day." Definitely NOT part of the employee handbook. Long live Corporate America!

Seven Point Five

This morning I thought about just how much my life revolves around getting enough sleep. Turns out it is number two on my list of priorities. The list looks like this:

1. Breathing
2. Getting enough sleep
3. Feeling happy
4. Eating

See, I am unable to feel happy or have the desire to eat until I sleep for 7.5 hours. But I am unable to sleep unless I am breathing. So breathing trumps sleeping.

I was thinking about all this because I wish I were one of those miracle people who needed only 4 hours a night. Oh, all the things I could accomplish! Depending on what you read, Einstein is said to have slept 12 hours or more a night, while Napolean and Thomas Edison required only 4-5 hours. If that is true, I suppose there is no correlation between sleep and productivity.

I'd better go make the most of my 16.5 hours awake.
_____

Is everyone excited about the return of T.A.F.K.A. Cat Stevens? I sure am. I might even buy a track of music. Or just go play the Greatest Hits album again.


Today's Coffee Beverage: NF Peppermint Mocha Latte from Starbucks.

Innovative Design

I bought a charming Kleenex box at Albertson’s last week. Actually, it’s the Safeway Select brand, so I should call it facial tissue. The more I look at it the more I think the new design was created by someone who was seriously high on drugs. Chuck in Poughkeepsie was hired as a freelancer to come up with a “fun and fancy-free” idea for a tissue box. The muse struck while at Grandma's, directly after smoking a giant bong and playing with Toonces.

Chuck's design is a series of cats that gaze at you with their human eyes and Cheshire grins. Each one has its own cat-chphrase (sorry, couldn’t resist). For example, a sleeping cat next to the words, “Training for the napping Olympics.” Or, two cats sending each other telepathic messages over a fishbowl. The first thinks, “Who? Me?” while his pal telethinks, “No, it’s not dinnertime.” Then there’s the innocent/naughty kitty, whose motto is, “Forbidden things make the best toys.” Sounds like a line stolen from an Orson Welles picture.
I can only imagine the lines cut from Chuck’s brainstorming session.
- Meow Mix on my mind.
- Avoiding catasrophe.
- Feline fine!
- Free to be catching ZZZs.

Dang. It's harder than it looks. Props to Chuck after all.

Speaking of props, let's hear it for Diane Keaton. Nearly 61 years old and hotter than ever! Seriously.
Today's Coffee Beverage: Nothing yet. I'm dying.

Over and Out

One of the best quitting stories ever was not a quitting story at all. It happened a few years ago when I worked at a reality TV production company. This was a place that had three shifts (morning, night, and swing), with tortured human shells editing shows around the clock. It was, in general, a pretty miserable place to be a production assistant, as I was at the time. But this is not my tale of woe.

One of the perks of the TV business, in my experience, is that most of the time someone will buy you a cake on your birthday and call you down to the kitchen under the guise of having to show you something that you will not BELIEVE! Once you get there a sprinkling of people from around the office, including that guy from accounting whose name you don’t know, will stand around and sing you “Happy Birthday.”

At this place a favorite coordinator of mine got the axe on a Thursday, but still had to show up on a Friday for the swing shift before they had his replacement. He was pissed about the whole deal, as it seemed to be one of those weird political situations where a new hire wanted to bring in her own coordinator, and so found some petty reason to fire him. To add insult to injury, the new boss called him on his last day on his way in and asked him to pick up a cake for somebody’s birthday.

This is a classic task for a runner/PA, and a somewhat inappropriate thing to ask of the coordinator, but they were short PAs at the moment and so he agreed. He brought in the cake and sat at his desk, stone-faced, for his last shift at Really Shitty Production Company.

Soon, whispers could be heard around the office. I had to know what was going on. “Did you see the cake?” someone asked me. Nope. I went into the kitchen and parted the crowd to take a look at the Ralph’s white-frosted sheet cake. In pink icing scrawled across the top I read, “This isn't my job, Assholes.”

I will be telling my grandkids about the balls on that guy. What a way to go!
_____

Yesterday we celebrated DeeHo’s birthday and treated her, deservedly, like a Queen! After being showered with loveliness and attention all day long, she said, gratefully, “Thank you so much. You guys really went over and out.”

I think she meant, “Above and beyond.” I love that girl!

Today’s Coffee Beverage: Iced NF latte with one pump of caramel from the Universal Commissary.

Neti Neti Joy Joy

What if I were to tell you I had a secret that would make you feel like a brand new person? That I knew of something so powerful, so life-changing, that if you were to try it you would never be the same? Would you try it? I'm betting that you would. I am calling my bookie right now to make that bet.

Think of all the things you do to make yourself feel better: eat well, exercise, shave, clip your toenails, go shopping, read the funny pages, watch Extreme Home Makeover. But there's a forgotten, neglected part of you crying for attention. I'm talking about nasal irrigation. You could say it's an all-natural Afrin. It's an enema for your nose. And who doesn't love enemas?
Those in the Indian culture say it's like brushing your teeth. Once you've tried it, you understand just what they mean. You start with a neti pot and finish with the deepest, cleanest breathing you have ever experienced. I know it sounds scary and bizarre. But you're curious, aren't you?
See HERE for more detailed instructions. Then get to your nearest health food store or Whole Foods and get a neti pot of your own. I recommend using a pinch of neti salt in the water solution. Also, be sure to blow the wet contents of your nose into a strong paper towel, preferably Bounty, rather than a flimsy piece of Kleenex. Otherwise... talk about having a mess on your hands!

I think the subtext of the above photo is that a neti pot will help you develop cute, perky breasts. Try it. Thank me. Pay it forward.

Today's Coffee Beverage: NF Winter Dream Tea Latte from Coffee Bean. I highly recommend!

Post-Election

I was driving on the 101 North and saw a banner stretched across one of the overhead bridges. It read, "Mission Accomplished," over a background of stars and stripes.
_____

Once in awhile I get voicemails from my mom that are so wacky and funny that I have to save them. Here's the latest. Note my mom has a strong Polish accent, and that I sing "I'm a Little Teapot" on my outgoing message.

"Oh, hi Annie! I love your song! Cute, cute... (laughs)
And... Honey, Dad call and say, 'Should I park in the driveway or garage because maybe gonna be rain?' And I say, 'Eh... garage.'
And... eh... that's all. Have a nice day honey. I love you. Bye."
_____

A new discovery worth dishing about: the Variety Screening Series. All kinds of cool new movies screening before their release dates with Q&A with the directors/producers/writers, etc. The catch is you need to be a member of one of the guilds, or find a friend who is and have them bring you as a guest. Among the many events coming up:

An Inconvenient Truth THU 11/30 7:30PM
Q&A: Director Davis Guggenheim & Al Gore

The RSVP on-line thing wasn't working for me; you might have to call the magazine and leave an RSVP voicemail.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Went to Coffee Bean to get treats for a co-worker and myself. At the register realized my credit card was in the pocket of yesterday's jeans. Embarassing!

Prop BB

Blue Bin. I want one. My landlord won't get one because it would cost him $100 a month. But, me and my roomie, we make do.

We have a system. We can't help but recycle. Probably 75% of our quote/unquote waste can be turned into something new by the geniuses who do that stuff. So we collect the goods in Trader Joe's bags and line them up in our garage until Wednesday night, the eve of Recycling Truck Day.

We switch off, and this week is my turn. When darkness falls, I will dress in my nastiest clothes (not much different from my regular clothes, really) and flip flops. I will pile the bags in the Camry and stealthily pull out of the gate.

Down the street I will go with my hazard lights on. Five miles an hour. I'll know exactly what I'm looking for: a blue bin that looks near-empty so I can fill it with treasures. It's like a homeless person scavenging, BUT IN REVERSE.

Once such a bin is spotted, the adrenaline starts to flow. The key is to move quickly, head down, and fill the bin to the brim. Then let the lid down slooowly and quiiiiiiietly. Usually there is not enough room in one and you have to find two or even THREE more.

The worst is pulling up to a bin and seeing the owner of the house hanging around. Like she's waiting for me. When that happens it's best to move it along. Trust me, this is not the time to meet your neighbors.

I don't want to feel like a criminal anymore. I just want my own blue bin.

Vote YES on Prop BB!
Today's Coffee Beverage: I'm waiting for the three o'clock slump.

I Know Poor

Another day, another lost tube of lip balm. I stopped at the grocery store to replenish, completed the entire debit transaction, and was fully out the door before a realization hit me. For the first time in forever I hadn’t said one single prayer to baby Jesus, begging that my card go through!

You see, I know poor. When I moved to LA four years ago there was a gradual slide into poverty while I slaved in low-paying jobs… when I could get them. I remember a friend letting me go through his giant jar of change. I picked out the quarters, which totaled about ten bucks, and immediately went out for a Caramel Macchiato. It had been DAYS!

Yet, even that was not the low point. I had posted for every job I could imagine on Craigslist. I’ll watch your kids (I love kids)! I’ll walk your dogs (even though they’re slobbery)! I’ll detail your car (how hard could it be?)! I was so desperate for work that I signed up with a temp company that hires out people to do physical labor. The hourly pay for most of the jobs was decent, and this girl knows how to use a hammer.

The day I signed up they called to see if I would be interested in working the graveyard shift cleaning an office building. Hell yes, I was interested! Once I got there I learned the man in charge of the crew had recently started his own cleaning company. He had worked as someone else’s employee for many years, but this building was his very first account as a contractor.

It was hard work. I swept, dusted, vacuumed. The later it got, the more I wished each task he assigned would be the last. Finally he called me over to do the only thing left: clean the bathrooms. He would do the men’s, I would do the women’s.

Oh, God.



Okay, so maybe it wasn’t THAT dirty. There were two things about this that disgusted me. One was having to scrape strangers’ fecal matter off a toilet bowl, and the other was changing out the receptacle bags for used sanitary napkins. I did the bags first, daintily, with gloved hands.

I did not want to clean those toilets. It was four a.m. I could walk out and tell the crew boss I was sorry, I couldn’t do this, it wasn’t for me. But I pride myself on my Midwestern work ethic, and besides, I didn’t want to insult the livelihood of a man who had probably cleaned hundreds, if not thousands, of toilets in his lifetime.

I devised a plan of attack. I paused outside the first stall, gave myself a pep talk, inhaled deeply, then busted in like a ninja with the brush in hand. I really got in there, scrubbing under the rim and everything, all the while holding my breath. When it was time for more oxygen I kicked the handle for a flush and came on out for the next stall. Inhale, exhale, inhale, repeat.

Now I have a job I could have only dreamed of back then (a good stepping stone, a cool boss), but I still experience those figurative toilet-cleaning moments. My boyfriend Shrek likes to remind me that everyone, in every field, at every level, experiences indignities and injustices. It’s having to do something not in your job description, or do something for free. It’s putting on a brave face when you are hurt. It’s like rai-aaaaaaan, on your wedding day….

I guess the point is we all have to clean toilets sometimes. But never forget: this is America, and if you work hard enough, you might someday earn enough to have someone clean YOUR toilet. Until then, inhale, exhale, inhale, repeat.


Today's Coffee Beverage - Lemon Lift tea in the office. Good girl!

Casual Friday

I get in the car this morning and turn on the radio. "Under My Thumb" plays, followed by "I'm Never Gonna Give You Up," topped off with an Albertson's commercial featuring the plucky Patricia Heaton. It's gonna be a good day.

On Wednesday Harry Potter and Mark Twain gave me an interesting factoid I had never heard before: that our hair and nails continue growing long after we die, because they don't need a heartbeat to grow. They rely on the nutrients from our decomposing bodies instead. I was going to tell you all about it and offer up this photo as proof:


I did a little research (every good blogger needs to do her research). Imagine my disappointment when I saw this on the Answers.com page:

It is a myth that nails and hair will continue growing for several days after death. The appearance of growth is actually caused by the retraction of skin as the surrounding tissue dehydrates (desiccation) making nails and hair more prominent.

It is my pleasure to share with you the many blog links that were sent my way this week:

Carlos' Blog (MySpace)
Comedian Carlos promises there will be even more hilarious entries soon.
The Fast Lane
"People are generally right 80% of the time with their first thought and reaction. If you want the other 20%, look for a blog called 'The Slow Lane.'"
Aaron's Blog (MySpace)
"I quote John Lennon, 'I don't believe in The Beatles, I just believe in me.' Good point there. After all, he was the walrus. I could be the walrus and I'd still have to bum rides off of people."
This Dan Life
"The dreadfully painful life of an Asian goober."
Pudgy-Girl
Happenings around Los Feliz and the surrounding neighborhoods.
Love for the Loveless
"Come see the darker side of JAP."
5 Percent Celery
"Ranting on food, fashion, and faux pas."

Thanks for reading this week. See you Monday!

Today's Coffee Beverage: NF pumpkin spice latte from Peet's. I tend to go overboard with the pumpkin delicacies available at this time of year.

Mexican... Polish... whatever

This morning my roommate DeeHo and I went on a hike in Griffith Park. Here is a picture taken of us on last week's hike with T-finger:


And yes, that IS what we look like when we're hot, sweaty, and tired.

At the top of the hill today we saw the exuberant Korean man who likes to slap High Five to hikers very, very hard. Presumably this is to help us get the lymph going. Today he asked us if we were sisters. We get this occasionally, not because we look anything alike but because we have toothy grins and similar body types (i.e. boobs and booties). The man asked me if I was Mexican. I was speechless for a second. I’ve been mistaken for German, Swedish, and Russian, but never Mexican. This was one for the blog!

Indeed, as the blog header will tell you, I am 100% Polish. My parents are from the Old Country, and my dad moved here at age 11. My mom came to the States when she married him at 26. I know everyone has issues with their parents being frustrating, annoying, or otherwise difficult, but I have the added strain of determining whether I can justify getting mad at them. Are they acting in line with their cultural background, or truly in need of a scolding?

My dad in particular is a tough nut to crack. I used to think the dad on Wonder Years was based on my father. Our weekly phone conversations generally go like this:

ME
Hi, Dad.
DAD
Oh, hey, Ann! How is everything?
ME
Good. It’s nice out today. DeeHo and I are going to brunch in a bit.
(Pause)
DAD
And how’s the car?
ME
Great. Perfect.
DAD
Air conditioning works?
ME
Oh yeah.
DAD
All right. Well, thanks for calling. Bye.
ME
OK, b-
(Click)

A month ago my Dad failed to call me on my birthday. I know there are bigger problems in the world than keeping score of who calls on my birthday, but I had a strong feeling I could call him out on this. I knew that:

1) I had forewarned him the previous weekend that I would turn 27 on Wednesday.
2) He thinks celebrating birthdays in general is stupid and unnecessary.
3) My mom, knowing her, had badgered him all day to call me and he pointedly refused.

What a piece of work. I wrote him an eloquent letter expressing how hurt I was by his lack of phone call, and how I hoped that when next year rolled around he would consider calling.

Two weeks pass. Nothing. I call him and we make some small talk while he pretends everything is normal. Finally he says, “I got your letter.” I take a moment to pat myself on the back for not calling and yelling at him that day to get my point across. Obviously, a letter was the best way to get my thoughts heard. “So…” he says, “Are you over it yet?”

Incredible! “Well I don’t have much of a choice, Dad, except to get over it, do I?!”

He chuckles a little, as if I were being melodramatic. “And how’s the car?”

I give up, people. Some dads never change.

Today’s Coffee Beverage: Iced NF peppermint mocha latte from Peet’s. It always makes me late for work to go all the way to Peet’s, but it’s worth it.

America’s Next Top Blogger

Well, I got just about nothing done yesterday. It was all about the blog. Blog this, blog that, and “Ooh, I’ll take some pictures for the blog!” I’ve alienated Vixen and A-dog because they’re already so sick of it. I have to be careful before I lose all my friends. Today I’m banning myself from even saying the word again. But you’ll be excited to know the b--g was viewed in countries all over the WOOOORLD!*

Let’s rehash Halloween! Did anyone else gorge themselves into oblivion yesterday? The decadence was nonstop in our office. For me it started when one of my bosses brought me a happy little box of black licorice shaped like Scottish poodles. I thought, “Hmmm, do I even like black licorice?” So I left it out for others to enjoy. Then tasted one on a whim. Cue downward spiral.


Let’s rehash costumes! - I was a loser, again, and did not dress up. But here are some of my favorite costumes from our work party.


Real-life couple Harry Potter and Mark Twain. I know, I know. I thought it was Albert Einstein too.

Kinda makes you wanna forget to take The Pill and have a little baby Batman of your own, doesn’t it Ladies?

Let’s rehash new vocab! - I learned some spooky new words yesterday on the NPR program Says You! I love that show because you know without a doubt those people were the biggest nerds ever in high school. Now they get to be on the radio and bask in their nerdiness while the Homecoming Queen sits at home watching Wife Swap in her bathrobe, licking cake batter off her index finger. Anyway, they had a Halloween theme going. Here’s the only word I can remember at the moment:

Skyclad – To perform magic or rituals in the nude.

Nifty, right? Best of luck using that in a sentence today.
____________________
*The United States and Canada.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Nothing yet. It’s more of a Laxative-‘n’-Fiji-Water kind of day, yeah?