it smells like a man in my apartment.

I have gotten quite used to living on my own in my apartment. It is a beautiful thing, not to have to clean up after other people after a hard-working day on the job.

So, I turn the key into the lock. I push the door open. I flip the switch and turn around to close the door. There is a faint smell - something smells different in my apartment. What is that...? It smells like a man in my apartment.

The aroma of cologne is distinct, wafting through my kitchen. I'm slightly creeped out but curious. I have no idea what kind of cologne it is. I quickly walk into my bedroom and bathroom, curious as to what (or whom) would be emanating the scent.

Spotted! A dark jacket draped over the barstool. It does not belong to me. I lean over and take a quick sniff. Source of cologne, identified. It is my friend's jacket - he had left it from a dinner party I had the night before. I'm appeased. Now I'm slightly ill at ease because it smells like a man in my apartment and my apartment doesn't smell, well, like my apartment.

I know I haven't blogged in awhile - but trust me, at least I have been (somewhat) productive. I've begun working on a short story, which I anticipated to be 8-10 pages but instead has turned into upwards of 35 pages, with plenty of development and revisions ahead of me. Also, I have finished all of my holiday shopping! Things get busy when you're competing with 12.9 million greater LA residents for parking spaces at the mall.

WOTW

boon. benefit, favor.

fracas. a noisy quarrel.

Next: bracing myself for 34 degree weather.

Paris, Je t'aime.

I rented a DVD of Paris, Je t'aime. I can't stop watching it; it's charming. It is a series of short films, love stories that happen in Paris. It is the city of love, after all. Although I would never recommend for ANYONE to visit Paris while it is miserably cold in December. Kind of freezes up the romance right out of it.

New love, unlikely love, old and hurt love. Refreshing. Filmmakers and actors featured include the Coen brothers, Alfonso Cuaron, Walter Salles, Natalie Portman, Elijah Wood, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Gena Rowlands.

I especially liked 'Tuileries,' by Joel & Ethan Coen. Steve Buscemi plays an American tourist, confusingly trying to make his way around the city. He flips through his guidebook while waitng on the platofrm of the Tuileries Metro station. He notices a couple making out on the opposite platform, and is spotted staring at them. The couple, offended at this peeping intrusion, gets into an argument, and by the time the story ends, Steve Buscemi's character ends up having made out with the French girl and getting beaten up by her boyfriend, all the while a small boy has been pelting him with spitballs.

Perhaps even more enchanting is '14th Arrondissement', Alexander Payne's story about a postal worker from Denver. She studied French for two years and saved up for a six day trip to Paris. She had wanted to go for two weeks but didn't want to leave her two dogs at home for too long. She wanders through Paris alone, opting instead to enjoy the city on her own rather than following a tour group, as she was an independent type. She is happy with many friends, but can't help but wish that she had someone to share all of her beautiful travels.
She finally walks into a park, on a picture-postcard sunny afternoon in Paris, and, although she is in this incredibly romantic city alone, far away from all of her family and her friends, it is in this foreign country, while she sits by herself on a park bench, where she feels most alive.

COTW figured.

I think I've figured it out.

Maybe not ALL of it, but some figuring has been done, nonetheless.

Everyone wants a 'hot' bf or gf.

But - when I think back upon the men I have dated or was interested in; I didn't think much of them to be that attractive upon first meeting. They weren't hideous; they were decent, some pretty plain, and of course some more attractive than others. But they were all unique, distinct in look and personal style.

So it wasn't necessarily physical attraction that drew me to them.

I must say, the traits that I'm really attracted to, undeniably are the guys - not the guys with cocky attitudes, not the tallest guys in the room, not the men with the finest clothes or 1000 friends.

The traits that really pulled me in to the 'more-than-friends' zone of interest were the following:

maturity

boyish charm

sensitivity

confidence

charisma

More on this post later.

Chocolate=Love. / Chocolate=Amor.

So.
Everyone knows how food is about romance. Right? Thought I was the only one thinking about it. I am, kind of a foodie, here. I think it's because I'm a romantic at heart. I love aromatherapy candles, lying on the beach and hearing the waves crash, I love Spain, I love nostalgia, hearing the voice of an old friend, I love food, and, of course, I love chocolate. And, I love love. Who doesn't love love?

Food, after all, activates a pleasure center in your brain when you eat. Not just about survival, but about pleasure. Like a perfectly thick, juicy, slow-cooked steak. Or freshly prepared noodles made from scratch right when you ordered it. Or, the light, sweet, chocolate buttercream frosting that tops a chocolate-chocolate cupcake from a bakery near my place (www.yummycupcakes.com). I had started on the side, chewing slowly, tasting every tinge of sweetness it had to offer, closed my eyes. Piece. Of. Heaven. Love, baby!

Well, if you're into chocolate the way I am, it's damn near close.

There are a multitude of analogies to be used when it comes to food. Now I'll suspect that anyone with a sweet tooth may be a fellow romantic. Hmm. I have been thinking about love and romance lately. Why, exactly ?

I think it's because of the approaching holidays. That pervasive holiday atmosphere of love and kindness, enjoyment of life, of everyone being a little nicer to each other, the warmth you feel with the people around you shines in comparison to the cold weather that envelops you.

COTW[crush-of-the-week]

Chocolate buttercream frosting on one of the Yummy cupcakes. I am now hooked on this bakery like never before.

Guys that let women sit back and relax while they drive. (In L.A., this is a big deal.) Ah, now to find one that is my type...

Guys that order dessert. (See fourth paragraph above.)

I just remembered that only one guy has ever called me "baby." Not in the Dirty-Dancing-Jennifer-Grey's-Baby way, but in the '90s way. Only it wasn't in the '90s. He probably doesn't even remember it. But I found that I kind of liked it. But just the one time. Never again. Things are only cool in their fusion of spontaneity, rarity.

Otherwise, I hate it when guys call girls, "baby." Ugh.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chocolate=Amor.

Haber.
Todo el mundo sabe cómo la comida es el romance. ¿Verdad? Pensé que era el único que pensar en ello. Yo soy, una especie de Foodie, aquí. Creo que es porque soy un romántico de corazón. Me encanta las velas de aromaterapia, tumbado en la playa y escuchar las olas romper, me encanta España, me gusta la nostalgia, escuchar la voz de un viejo amigo, me encanta la comida, y, por supuesto, me encanta el chocolate. Y, me encanta el amor. ¿Quién no ama el amor?

Alimentos, después de todo, se activa un centro de placer en el cerebro cuando se come. No sólo acerca de la supervivencia, sino de placer. Al igual que un filete cocinado perfectamente gruesa, jugosa, de lento. O recién fideos preparados realizados desde cero cuando se lo ordenaron. O bien, la luz, dulce, crema de mantequilla de chocolate glaseado que encabeza un chocolate-pastelito de chocolate de una panadería cerca de mi casa (www.yummycupcakes.com). Yo había comenzado en el lateral, masticando lentamente, saboreando cada toque de dulzura que tenía que ofrecer, cerré los ojos. Pieza. De. Cielo. El amor, baby!

Bueno, si usted está en el chocolate así como soy, está cerca malditos.

Hay una multitud de analogías que se utilizará cuando se trata de alimentos. Ahora voy a pensar que cualquier persona con un diente dulce puede ser un romántico compañeros. Hmm. He estado pensando sobre el amor y el romance recientemente. ¿Por qué, exactamente?

Creo que es debido a las vacaciones se acerca. Esa atmósfera de vacaciones omnipresente de amor y bondad, el disfrute de la vida, de que todos son un poco más agradable a los demás, el calor se siente con la gente a tu alrededor brilla en comparación con el frío que te envuelve.

COTW [crush-de-la-semana]

De mantequilla de chocolate helar en uno de los bizcochos Yummy. Ahora estoy enganchado a esta panadería, como nunca antes.

Chicos que permiten a las mujeres sentarse y relajarse mientras la unidad. (En Los Angeles, esta es una gran cosa.) ¡Ah, ahora para encontrar uno que es mi tipo ...

Chicos para que el postre. (Véase el párrafo cuarto anterior).

Acabo de recordar que sólo un hombre ha llamado mi "bebé". No en el dirty-dancing-Jennifer-Grey's forma Baby, pero en los años 90 forma. Sólo que no era en los años 90. Probablemente ni siquiera recuerdo. Pero descubrí que me gustaba ella. Pero sólo el tiempo. Nunca más. Las cosas son sólo fresco en su fusión de la espontaneidad, la rareza.

De lo contrario, odio cuando chicos llamada niñas, "bebé". Uf.

Oh. Em. Gee. Buying lingerie. And, Cologne I'd like to make out with.

I'm incredibly sensitive when it comes to smell. Apparently. I've been sensitive this whole time and never really thought about it.

Growing up in suburban Philadelphia, I never really got into make-up the way other girls did - I mean clothes and shoes, sure, but make-up wasn't my thing. I did, however, have to buy perfume that I wanted. Tommy Girl, BCBGirls, Acqua di Gio - these are what I splurged on.

Went to pick up some stuff for my apartment and a warm hoodie. Ended up buying lingerie. Who buys lingerie? Nobody needs to buy lingerie, it's not a necessity. It is, kind of, well, not kind of - it is - an indulgence. Like dessert. Like super-sizing it. Comparable to getting premium gas, or French tips on your manicure. Something a little extra.

I really need to save money. Did some damage by saying to hell with it, and buying plane tickets to Philly for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Come on, bringing lunches from home! Wooh!

Gonna have to return the $32 shower head I brought from Target. Saw it, thought of an Amazon rainforest, and dropped it into my cart. Hmm.

COTW[crush-of-the-week]

Guys that wear Ralph Lauren Romance. Lovely.

Guys wearing Dolce & Gabbana's Light Blue.

Guys that use breath mints. Every man should keep mints handy. Seriously. Women, too. What a turn off - when I think halitosis, I think bacteria that produces halitosis, and my mind goes from man to bacteria.

I cannot stress the sense of smell enough, here - women are sensitive to smell. Ralph Lauren's Romance for men - honestly, I smell the cologne and want to make out with it.

Working an Awards Show. And, Working It.

I volunteered as a talent escort at an awards show.

No - not an escort. A talent escort.

After debating on a frumpy dress with pockets and a fitted dress which ran short and snug, I went with the fitted and short. It didn't feel this short in the store - have I been putting on the pounds? Hmmm. Thank goodness for pashminas. and large cloth napkins. I should really get leggings to go with this. And hit the gym a bit more.

Got the pictures back - honestly, it didn't look that short. Maybe it was the getting dressed at the office and leaving directly from work - felt a tinge of skankety-skank-skank.

Highlights:

Dev Patel and Freida Pinto are adorable. Dev Patel - tall and thin and you just want to hug him! And then give him a double-double.

Ben Stiller - exactly how he seems in person.

I wonder if Benicio del Toro hangs out in seedy bars. He just looks like he fits the part, ya know ? LIke I'd feel safe with him walking down any dark alley.

Like A Car Accident. And, My Horoscope.

The Hills - its so nauseating - like a bad car accident you just can't help but keep watching. And then feel guilty that you'd stoop to such low-rent, glossy distractions. And why the fuck does everybody have to be blonde ?

I've Got Bed Bugs.
I slept on my futon last night. Maybe that explains the knot in my shoulder that won't leave me alone. Last night when I got home I noticed bugs on my bed. I remove the sheets and the mattress pad and stick them in the hamper, after a good spraying down of my entire bedroom. Apparently bed bugs are real - who knew? They do bite - and thus are attracted by human blood. (My brain just flashed to vampires for a second.) For some reason they were only in my bedroom, on the blankets - maybe it's the cotton ? Anyhew, I use my portable fabric steamer and steam the shit out of my mattress and any remaining bugs.

I anticipate one more day of knots.

My Horoscope for Today
A lot of weird things have been happening lately. I had a car accident. While my car was parked. The bed bugs thing. The Latin lover decision. Their juxtaposition screams protagonist-in-time-of-upheaval.

"Indecision may not be your usual state of being, but you can definitely make it look good on you. Spin it as an impulsive, exciting mindset in which anything goes - the odder and newer, the better. Those around you will doubtlessly find it noteworthy and even thrilling when you start to diverge from your preset itinerary. And if they go along for the ride, well, they might be surprised by what you have to say."

The Daily Flirt Scope: "Haven't you done enough amazing things lately? Relax already! Today is a good day to leave the world of doing to others, and instead, engage in some laid-back, introspective daydreaming. "

http://horoscopes.astrology.com/dailylongtaurus.html

Ugly Betty. And, the Search for a Latin Lover. / Betty La Fea. Y, La Búsqueda para un Amante Latino.

Betty Gets More Action Than Me.
Caught an episode of Ugly Betty the other evening. Every time I manage to catch it it brings me back to reality. The fact that I feel like Ugly Betty. Not Amanda, Wilhelmina, or Hilda. Betty. 100%.

It's a curious thing.

Must be something that stemmed from middle school and back in high school. Something inside of you that you feel like you can't escape, make over, or outgrow. That's just it. Once a nerd, always a nerd. With big braces, big glasses, and big waist.

But even Betty gets more action than I do! Four boyfriends in four television seasons ? There's Walter, that accountant, Gio the sandwich guy, and Matt her new boss, and...I know I must be forgetting one more guy. So - more than one guy for every television season. The girl gets around.

The Search for a Latin Lover begins.I have decided.
Next, in my love life, I want a hot Latin lover. I have not dated one before. I do love salsa dancing. Food. Tapas. Spain. Perhaps I should set my sights on a hot Spaniard instead ? Nah, too picky. Apparently, I'm too picky, Mr. Matchmaker-Assistant-at-the-Peacock says. And he wouldn't take me on as a client! (Who's being picky now?) Hey - I'm open-minded. I like to eat, hike, travel.

Maybe its time to hit the salsa clubs again.
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Betty tiene más acción que yo.Atrapado un episodio de Betty La Fea, la otra noche. Cada vez que me lo vi que me trae de vuelta a la realidad. El hecho de que me siento como Ugly Betty. No Amanda, Guillermina, o Hilda. Betty. 100%.

Es una cosa curiosa.

Debe ser algo que se deriva de la escuela media y en la secundaria. Algo dentro de ti que te sientes como que no puede escapar, hacer más, o superar. Esa es la cosa. Una vez que un nerd, siempre es un nerd. Con aparatos grandes, grandes gafas, y la cintura grande.

Pero incluso Betty la acción se vuelve más que yo! Cuatro novios en cuatro estaciones de televisión? Walter, que el contable, Gio el tipo sándwich, Matt y su nuevo jefe, y ... sé que debo estar olvidando una vez más chico. Por lo tanto - más de un tipo para cada estación de televisión!

La búsqueda de un amante latino comienza.He decidido.
A continuación, en mi vida, el amor, quiero un amante latino caliente. No he de fecha anterior. Hago bailar salsa amor. Comida. Tapas. España. Tal vez debería fijar mi mirada en caliente en lugar de un español? No, demasiado exigente. Aparentemente, yo soy demasiado exigente, el Sr. Matchmaker-Asistente-en-el-Peacock, dice. Y no me tomaría como un cliente! (¿Quién está siendo exigente ahora?) Hey - Soy de mente abierta. Me gusta comer, ir de excursión, de viaje.

Quizá su momento de golpear a los clubes de salsa de nuevo.

Back to reality. And, this month's credit card bills.

Back to work. Two weeks ago I was on vacation with my mom in Spain. Funny how that seems so long ago, like a dream. Is my need for a vacation that bad ? I guess so.

I'm back at work, and it's like I never left. Isn't that always how it is ? Hmm. the emails have stacked up and the mail's in a pile and so are the bills and laundry. Yup, definitely back to reality.

Facing the Bills
It's been getting a little out of control, I admit. I need to cut back on spending or else.
10/25/09 $10 LACMA tickets
10/22/09 $105.76 Cable bill
10/20/09 $47.10 Books from Amazon
10/19/09 $248.53 Dinner at The Bazaar at the SLS Beverly Hills. (Granted, I was paying for four people, who gave me the cash.)
10/17/09 $115 Color, cut, and tip at Lauren's Salon (beauty costs money!)
10/17/09 $79.02 Cosmetics from Dermalogica salon (see note above)
10/13/09 $279.57 Dress and belt from BCBG
10/13/09 $452.18 Major service for my car. (Didn't I just take it in for service?!)
10/11/09 $42.90 for gas
10/7/09 $45.57 A pair of boots from Zara

Maybe next year I should take two weeks off. Or a year.

I dare to dream.

Breakfast with a side of COTW!

I order the LaFonda omelette at Jinky';s in SaMo - comes with diced
beef, hearty chunks of meat and avocado with red onions, ranchero
sauce, cheddar cheese, and tomato. Not for the faint of heart- I add
chipotle tapatio sauce to it.
The cafe is busy with saturday morning patrons in this beach town.
I grab a seat alone at the bar; I had wandered in, starved after my
free mini spa facial treatment in the neighborhood. I wonder if I
look slightly mysterious - girl sitting alone in a busy diner. Or
pretentious while clicking away on my Blackberry. Probably
pretentious.

COTW
The guy taking my order is wearing jeans and a yellow t-shirt. He has
dark, short, spiky hair (akin to the crest of a wave) and a light
olive complexion. I decide that he is cute and wonder what ethnicity
he is. Something South American, I think.

The other server checking on me is wearing a white t-shirt and a red
belt with rivets in it. Grommets, rivets, whatever they're called. I
wonder why anyone would buy a red belt, and then I remember that I
have one myself. He has a little something picante about him also.

I realize that the crushing has finally returned. Sigh. I feel
relieved - things may be going back to normal in a few more ways than
I thought. Aren't you glad?

There's something about beauty. /Hay algo sobre belleza.

When beauty surrounds you, you feel beautiful. It is a subtle process, a smooth and careful seduction you do not notice the actions of until you realize that you have been fully enchanted.

Being surrounded by beautiful gardens, parks with ponds filled with paddle-boating locals, people that greet each other with a double-kiss, a square meant for the people of a city to sit and enjoy, grand fountains offering harmonious spaces of peace within a bustling metropolis, a fine array of rose bushes to pair with good conversation with your dear loved ones.

Moments feel richer, more precious yet not rushed, dripping with a sophisticated focus on enjoying life.

I don't feel drunk, but firmly held onto by that moment of warmth before getting a little tipsy on spirits.

Remind me to travel more.
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Sent using Blackberry

HAY ALGO SOBRE BELLEZA.

Cuando la belleza te rodea, te sientes bella. Es un proceso sutil, una seducción y buen cuidado de que no se dan cuenta de las acciones hasta que te das cuenta de que ha sido totalmente encantado.

Estar rodeado de hermosos jardines, los parques con estanques llenos de remo-canotaje locales, las personas que se saludan con un beso doble, una plaza destinada a la población de una ciudad para sentarse y disfrutar, grandes fuentes que ofrece espacios armonioso de paz dentro de un metrópoli llena de vida, una buena selección de los rosales de par con una buena conversación con sus seres queridos queridos.

Momentos se siente más rica, más preciosa aún no se precipitó, goteo con un enfoque sofisticado en disfrutar de la vida.

No me siento borracho, pero mantendrá firme en ese momento de calor antes de conseguir un poco borracho sobre las bebidas espirituosas.

Me recuerdan a viajar más.

Those crazy kids.

I'm at this club in Barcelona and its 2:50am, so just getting hot. There's a guy that I know for sure has gotten in with sneakers, and some of these girls look barely 19, or even younger. The PYTs (girls and guys) are up and about, dancing around, shaking what their mommas gave them. I'm not over there - that's me in the corner, having spotted a pod chair with pillows, I am sitting down. Ooh baby, to sit down. those PYTs can keep dancing. I'm just gonna sit right here. Then there are these dudes that look to be in their late 30s. Yep.

I'm trying to remember the last time I was up this late and then I stop when I realize its because it must be at least 6 months to a year.

I've had half of a rum and coke and I feel like I'm done with alcohol for the night (or the year). Why do vacations have to go by so quickly? Can us Americans catch on to Europe's example 3 or 4 weeks of national holidays? Can that be put into reality? Hmm.

I mean, aren't we in an economic depression ?

Am relieved to find that these crazy kids are listening to the same things circa 2003. They will not be achy tomorrow morning from their night of clubbing. Its different when you have bills to pay. (I'm the one in the plaid dress on the right, looking for a place to sit down.)

I feel kinda old. Time to go home now.

[Photos: www.delisgroup.com]

Pounding the pavement. And, Stuff I Can Fit In My Purse.

Nope, I'm not out on the streets, looking for work.
I'm out on vacation with my mother, walking around the whole city of Madrid and then Barcelona. She is the one wearing socks. With sandals.

She found that she doesn't like taking the metro in Spain thus far. She's not a big fan of steps that lead you deep and far from city streets -seems more of a marathon to her. So after our self and guidebook led tours of Madrid, we opted for the double decker tour buses for the Barcelona leg of the trip. Also - its considerably easier, now that I didn't have to plan so intricately in a city I already knew.

I don't remember the last time I went walking this much. I live in LA, so I'm supposed to be living a sedentary lifestyle in my car, driving.

Stuff I Can Fit Into My Purse
While traveling like a tourist I fit in my leather hobo:
-one travel sized umbrella
-my wallet
-one bottle of water
-one digital camera
-one tin of mints
-one coin purse
-one souvenir belt that my mom bought for 2 euros
-one city map
-one map of the closest grocery stores to our hotel
-one cell phone
-a few pages ripped out of a guidebook
-one pair of earbud headphones
-one bottle of hand sanitizer

How nice it is, to not have to work today. A day off. Forgot what that feels like.

Es como un perfecto cafe con leche, o una bebida que bebes cuando estas en placa reial. Descubriendo algo que te encanta para el primer tiempo. Hace buen tiempo, la ciudad es hermosa, asi, sientes hermosa tambien. Es una cosa para decirle a alguien, es una otra para tu estar alli.

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Sent using Blackberry

That's a big bump.

While walking down a street in the neighborhood of plaza de espana, my mom keeps looking at my face, not talking. We stop to cross the narrow street. I can feel her eyes on me although I'm not looking at her, I know that she's scrutinizing my complexion, spotting the pimple.

"That's a big bump," she remarks.

I pause a moment, trying to veil my irritation. Patience with my parents, or with anyone in my family, does not come easy.

"I know," I say.

We keep walking down the hill in these quiet back streets and eventually make our way to the metro station. I realize that we have taken the longer route from our hotel by accident, but I do not let on that I know this.



We had a squabble of annoyance on day two of our trip, giving it a dose of reality.

I believe I prefer arguing with my mother while navigating the metro stations in Madrid on self-declared holidays. Much more exciting while walking through the beautiful capital than while on the phone from opposite coasts of the US, whilst we engage in our respective toils of work and errands.



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Sent using Blackberry

Jesse Spano

Remember that one Saved By The Bell episode where Jesse OD'd on pills and overslept ? She missed the music video shoot at The Max, so Screech had to fill in for her. Well, I feel like that...so excited! (If you recall, she admitted to Zach that she was scared.)

Why is it that once you become a working stiff, you don't get excited about many things anymore? Especially on a day-to-day basis. Is it because there are few surprises?

Anyway, I'm excited, just like Jesse. Without the drugs.

Note to self: travel more. To places you can get excited about.

No hot madrileno sat next to me. Ah well. Ill just meet them there...

Going on vacation

I am now en route to Madrid. What am I doing? Secretly hoping that a hot guy will sit next to me, of course. Ooh, baby. First vacation in - well, ever. Not counting family trips..

No Spain, No Gain.

I'm fighting off sleep.

About That Sleep Study
In conclusion, I do not have sleep apnea. So - my fatigue has no causal relationship to the quality of the sleep I'm getting. Yep. I'm surprised, too.

Stuff That Happened Recently
Not a whole lot of new things to report. Well, my car battery died. I now have cable and internet in the new digs. Oh yeah, my car got keyed. And, I gained two pounds apparently. As of today, I have a refrigerator. ;)
What else...I'm tired as hell...wait, that's not new.

Maybe if there were more things to look forward to, I'd send subconscious signals to my body to wake up and do those things. Break up the humdrum-dee-dum of work and sleep and work. Like a vacation. Good thing I've made plans to hop a plane to Barcelona. Or did I dream that...?

$22 Vacation
So, twenty-two dollars and one pedicure and half hour of spa chair massaging later, I was relieved. O. M. G. Never underestimate the power of a pedicure.
I checked the bottom of the OPI nail polish that I had picked out. The color I picked was, "No Spain, No Gain."

Seriously. That's what it said.

Like a Drug. And, the Sleep Study Exists!

I love sleeping. I love my bed. I love lying on my bed and looking forward to the sleep I am about to enjoy.
Sleep must be my addiction. Not cigarettes or alcohol, but sleep.

This week is the first week that everyone at work will not be leaving early on Friday, due to the end of summer and a return to our regularly scheduled programming.
Who knew that September would continue to be a downer after your school days were long gone ?

The sleep study exists!
Took forever to fall asleep at the lab. It's all very strange. Such a monumental amount of trust involved in sleeping in a strange place.

I arrive at the lab at 9:30pm sharp. The office has been near my old apartment this whole time. What was kind of creepy was the fact that I was going to go to sleep in a strange place, literally no one there except myself and the guy administering the sleep study. Like I said, monumental trust.
Anyhow, I get there and answer a bazillion questions regarding my health. Then, I get wired up all over my head, and on my arms and legs. The wires are used to detect movement as well as my heart rate, and even if my eyes are open or closed.

Couldn't help but wish the guy administering the lab study was cuter. Doesn't life seem a little bit nicer when you're surrounded by attractive people ? Comforting, almost. Superficial, definitely. I suppose I would have felt a tiny bit more comfortable considering it was a sterile office/lab environment and not the Westin.

I still have blobs of glue stuck on my scalp from where the wires were connected to my head. Even after I washed my hair, I still feel slightly self-conscious. Ah well. No one cares.

Am very curious about my results. It would be an anxious week if I wasn't so drained.

Can't wait to go to bed.

Love to Hate ? Melting. And People Want To Study Me.

I was thinking about what it would be like to no longer be a 'transplant.' Nomad. Wanderlust is always at the back of my brain.

Makes me wonder, do I love to hate L.A ? Hmm. But doesn't everyone hate LA ?

I think 99% of the people posting ads up on craigslist need to go back to school. Or high school English, at least. You know, the kids that got left behind. They kill the "they're, their, there" efforts of schoolteachers. What happened to this generation? Venga, gente! Spell check much?

Stay in school, kids. So people won't question if you know English when you're an adult.

This Mission, IF You Choose To Accept It.It's a ridiculous thought, but occurred to me that joining the work force after college brings you into another world that people don't talk about. Well - the dark side is what people don't tell you about. Someone offers you a mission to begin an era known as "working stiff." This is what you are to do (but no one talks about it):

1. Trust No One. Not a single person.
2. Form Allies.
3. Stand Your Ground.
4. Brace for Attack.
5. Play the Game. Or Die.

Melting
So. Hot. The hot apartments on my side of the hill are getting stuffy, and boy, does the summer bring the blood to a boil.

At least I don't have to attempt to blast 'Beat It' from my room to repel the hacking, yakking, cigarette-smoking old dudes. Didn't work anyway.

Patience is wearing a bit thinner these days, or is it just me? Everyone blasting their air conditioning from their homes and their cars and kicking up the temps higher outside can't be much help.
There a couple arguing in Armenian in the apartment next door last week. Screaming at the top of their lungs in Armenian so I have no idea what the argument was about. Neighbors started to look out their windows. Another onlooker walked over to see what the fuss was - or maybe it was to make sure they didn't end up killing each other ?

Thank God I've moved to an apartment with central air. And Casita Taco next door. (Now, to finish unpacking the boxes before Christmas...)

The Sleep Study
So with all this chronic fatigue and the stamina of an 80 year old woman, I've had the second doctor's opinion. And then decided to drop my usual suspects and find a new doc altogether. UCLA is quite amazing. [America's Best Hospitals: the 2009-10 Honor Roll]
And thank goodness I have insurance this year. Who knew ? There are doctors out there that are thorough, and actually listen ? No one tells you how much digging it takes to find a doctor that is knowledgeable and conscientious and trustworthy.

The conclusion was stress, or, one of those phases of twentysomethings that have been known to pass. It's been over four months so we will see. But for now, I really do like to be in bed by 10 or 11pm. I fade fast. I'm awake, friends, and can hang out, but for a limited time only...

The other doctors that I have decided not to see anymore did leave on one last referral - that I go in to a lab for a sleep study - to rule out the possibility that it is a sleeping disorder of kind, i.e. sleep apnea; basically trying to rule out if it is the quality of the sleep that I'm getting which is making me so tired.

So I'm going in to a lab for a sleep study next week - this is where doctors have all these wires hooked up to you and they check their various monitors while you sleep there for the night. I know - it really does exist!

No - I'm not getting paid. But if the opportunity presented itself, I suppose I would do it full-time. Wouldn't you ?

The City of Los Angeles is Closed Today. Or Just Tired.

First with the courthouses and post offices. It's only a matter of time. The City of Los Angeles will be closed today due to massive debts and frivolous city spending. My goodness. Dropping incomes and rising costs of living. What's the sales tax now ? Those 1 bedrooms will soon have two residents, the doubles will be triples, and the triples will turn into quads. Great - like freshman year. Except I'm a grown ass woman.

Getting Out
Went hiking into the beautiful enclave of mountains and clean air a good ways away from L.A. Refreshing, in every way. If I had known I'd be sore for days afterwards I would have paid more attention to stretching before and after the adventure.
Why does it feel so good to get out of L.A. ?

talk
Friend: We might have an opening coming up in our department if you're interested.
Me: Oh. Will it be fun and exciting?
Friend: No. (pause) But...they will pay you. Money.
Me: Oh.

LOTW lines-of-the-week

Uh..I think I'm done talking to you. (CLICK.)

I don't respond well to excessive phone callers.

My computer is taking forever. My clothes are going out of style.

Tomorrow's Friday? All week it just felt - so - far - away.

Why is your computer so slow? I don't know. Maybe it's tired. Just like me.

Daily Grind
My computer is slowing down at work again today. I keep emptying out files but keep getting the same agonizing pace. Es una tortura. (como Shakira dice) My carpal tunnel and tendonitis brace is getting annoying so today I have replace it with one of my tennis wristbands. So now I think I look sporty as opposed to crippled. Athletic and hip vs. old and decrepit. Oh, social stigmas.

I don't believe God created me in order to work and nothing else. There's supposed to be some fun had along the way. But today, I'm too tired to have any.

So I crawl into bed and wait for sleep. Or death.

Vegas is a strange, strange place.

After finally taking a couple of much needed days off from work, I decided to take a quick trip out of town - to Las Vegas. Sure, I've lived in LA for four years; but this was my first visit to Sin City. I derived some conclusions:

First, Vegas is hott. With two T's. We are in the desert, you know. (Why did I not pack a pair of shorts?)

Second, Vegas is dusty. We are in the desert, people.

Third, Vegas smells like stale cigarette smoke. At least - every casino floor, and thus the majority of every hotel's ground floor reeks of the stuff.

Fourth, Vegas is expensive. Hotel stays are attractively low in price but what puts you in the red may be the food, show tickets, and gambling.

Fifth, other than gambling and shows, there isn't much else I'm interested in. I've concluded that Vegas isn't meant for me as a vacation spot. Two days and that's really plenty of time there. Any longer and the buffets would be enough to blow 10 pounds onto my frame.

Sixth, frankly, if anyone ever speaks frankly anymore (or says the word "frankly), there's something in the air that didn't sit well with me. Could it be the droves of drunk college students and twentysomethings (and fiftysomethings) stumbling around the Strip, carrying their open containers of alcohol and smoking a cig ?
That Vegas crowd - my goodness. If Cancun and Disneyland had a baby...
The same Strip which is covered with strollers being pushed by parents on a family vacation is the same one which is littered with Hispanic men (and women) slapping their calling cards at passersby while donning neon colored tee shirts promoting the services of legit call girls. And the young dressed-up couples walk past them, as do the elderly couples.
Hustling. That's the word that came to mind to see people working outside on the sidwalk in the scorching 110 degree desert to make a living.
Its as if The Strip is this odd concoction from a nouveau riche trailer park brain - grand, lavish, gaudy hotels each ornately themed with its own regalia, but circulating these monoliths are intoxicated vacationers and sex-pushing hustlers. Each replete with its own football field lengths of casino floor which are inevitable with every entry and exit from the hotel.

So, sixth, the air reeked of desperation. And that didn't sit so well.

Nevertheless, I did find some positives in the midst of the gluttony and bacchanalia:

COTW

Capriotti's. A best kept secret is this hole-in-the-wall sandwich joint. I ordered the club sandwich, which ended up being a massive MEAT SANDWICH which kept me full for eight hours. I know. The club sandwich consisted of turkey and cranberry sauce plus mayo and lettuce and also ham on a signature double-decker. The turkey is roasted, though, not your regular ol' cold cuts. Result ? Delicious in a comforting way - comfortlicious, if you will.

Herr's potato chips. I know I'm putting two food items down as my COTW for this posting - but worth all the noteworthiness. Ketchup chips. Salt and vinegar chips. Both are the best I've ever had anywhere - Herr's is a Pennsylvania-based company so I was surprised to see Capriotti's carrying them in Vegas.

Time to start planning the next vacation.

In the desert. And, Shut Up And Listen.

Hello, Heat Wave.

At work, I sit in a corner cubicle. I am drinking Gatorade and naively hoping it doesn't stain my tongue blue but I know the damage has already been done.

Cleaning out my closet. It's hot and I'm convinced that every bit of extra material or source of clutter adds an extra layer of heat in my room. It's also time to clean out my closet of everything I'd be embarrassed to be wearing in a car accident.

The winds of change are upon us. The bright and hot July sun of Southern California may have blindsided you in forgetting that they come around this town. Why is it always the cool ones that leave LA ? It's never that annoying old bag that looks like E.T.

Still dragging my feet.
I'm two Advil deep and completely spent - it's not quite five o'clock yet.
Maybe I should start taking St. John's Wort. It's sitting in my kitchen cabinet. The problem with consuming something like that is the fact that it's called Wort.

Shut Up. And Listen.
It's fun to answer the phone when someone cuts you off to ask you something you've already answered when you said your name. No one listens anymore. Everyone just wants to hear themselves talk and cut you off and make you anal enough to blog about it.

Why is it that people can't stop yakking these days ? There are five old dudes standing outside my apartment window every night, smoking and yammering the night away. This happens about five or six nights a week, guys in their 30s-60s range. They stand on the sidewalk in the front of their apartment building, which is adjacent to mine.

COTW

Scott Michael Foster - so I've been catching up on Greek episodes, starting with the pilot. Entertaining, I must say. Also, I'd rather make out with Cappie than Evan - I'm surprised, too. And Turtle snuggling with Jamie-Lynn Sigler on Entourage? Perhaps the era of the loser has arrived.

Acqua di Gio by Giorgio Armani for men. It was hot on my prom date, and, surprisingly, it's absolutely seductive still. I want to make out with it, it's so goood. Just not when you can smell it a mile away.

People who listen! There is a threat of extinction.

DOTW

Guys in those half-shirt crop tops at the gym. Those are wrong anywhere. My goodness.

Guys in crocs.

So they say. And, Hypotension, I think.

Writers write. At least, that's what people keep telling me. And the nagging feeling keeps nudging at me.

So I sat in my apartment on a Saturday night. That's when my body finally began waking up. And my brain, so be it. Something about a hot day sucks the motivation and the energy and the brainpower right outta ya.

Life cannot be lived within four walls of one of LA's apartments, lamenting life and watching an Entourage marathon. Plus, cabin fever. After being back in the apartment hunting predicament - Los Angeles, for all its glitz and glamourized reputation, has a disparity of socioeconomic strata, and also, a wide variety of gloomy, apartments available. We're in the SoCal desert, people, get central air already! Omg.

My wrist and my elbow are throbbing because I have tendonitis. Carpal tunnel's precursor. And, my foot has a new scar from a bug that bit me while I was eating lunch during work.

I just remembered something else they say. The worst part of writing, is, writing.
Why is it that people tell you that when you think you're not being productive, you're not learning anything or experiencing any personal growth, you really are, you just don't know it yet ? It's that kind of bullshit that pisses you off when you hear it. I'm just sayin'.

But I'm an American, I think. We are experts at wasting time. Oh yeah, and obesity. Americans are known for being able to add heart disease to any healthy food item. So - back to wasting time. We are the creators of myspace, twitter, youtube, and facebook, after all. And, of course, I'm in Los Angeles. There's traffic and parties and shopping on Melrose and doing laundry and self-deprecation and celeb-spotting at the Grove. All while hating L.A. - that stuff all takes time out of your day.

And why the fuck is it so hot in my apartment when it's 60 degrees outside at night?

Hypotension.
Am I tired because I'm depressed or am I depressed because I'm tired ?

I think I should be diagnosed with low blood pressure. In fact, I am convinced that's what I have. 90 over 60 consistently, sleeping for 8, 10, 12 hours at a time. And still exhausted, all the time. Thanks, WebMD. Now let's see what my doc says after I've one-upped him.

July is Lasagna Month, and Bring On The Mondays.

I have a new goal of finishing all the food I have in my kitchen before moving at the end of August.
Last night, I made lasagna for the first time. Today I had lasagna for lunch, and then for dinner. Hmm. This could get boring. Lunch, dinner, lunch, dinner.

I have an entire box of lasagna noodles to finish, though, so...July is Lasagna Month, Everybody.
Will keep you posted on what's cooking. And when I find the next digs to call home.

Bring on the Mondays.
I psycho-slept again. Eleven hours last night. If you called me - I was sleeping. Then I still felt tired so went back to bed for what ended up being four more hours - in jeans and make-up and sandals and all. Fifteen hours of sleep. Yes, I've been taking my vitamins and drinking water and exercising. I haven't left my apartment all day save for getting some stuff from my car. Watched Borat. Watched Californication. Heated up some dinner.

Looking forward to work tomorrow, the Monday after a holiday weekend. Been social up until today's episode of narcolepsy.

Paella, you can't have everything, SIACYCGOO, and Let the Time Wasting Stop. Or, at least, make some cutbacks.

I really do like paella.
Tossing some saffron. Actually, if you must ask, I kicked off a hailstorm of ingredients - sauteed tomatoes, garlic, shrimp, scallops, lemon...but something about having the energy and motivation to cook has me thinking maybe something's just a little bit different. Maybe it's the vitamin B12 pills I've been popping for about three weeks now. Who knew? Last week I was hot in the kitchen.

I don't do what I want.
I usually say that I, pretty much, for the most part, within reason and life's limits, and within fiscally responsible spending habits, do what I want.
It occurred to me that this isn't always the case. I used to want to go to the gym. Now, it's an internal struggle.
As a wise friend once told me what her even wiser mother balked at her:
"you can't have everything."

SIACYCGOO.
I've concluded that there is a woman that works in my office whom I absolutely cannot stand. Let's call her, "Stuck-in-a-Conversation-you-can't-get-out-of." Or, SIACYCGOO for short. Wait - still too long. Ok, just SIAC. Fuckin' nut.

Maybe the problem with today's society isn't obesity in America. I think it's COMMON SENSE and DECENT SOCIAL SKILLS. Communications 101 - I guess SIAC was ATD (absent that day) in class.

How much longer do I have to listen to this senseless barrage of chatter? I know when I talk you're just waiting to talk. When you're talking - well, I learned that I shouldn't bother listening - just look for a way to GET THE HELL OUT OF THE CONVERSATION. (Another example of Doing Things You Don't Want To Do.)

There are too many ways to waste time. Harder to be productive than ever.

Let the Time Wasting Stop. Or, at least, make cutbacks.
COTW: Being productive!
It's so hard to get your shit together and be productive. Why, after moving to la-la land, surrounded by creative types and industryfolk, have things gotten so stagnant and, well, discouraging? This weird haze of forgetting your purpose since costs and the almighty day job popped up.

There are so many ways to waste time. Googling. Facebooking and Twittering. Watching movies and wallflowering at Borders and surfing Hulu. Online shopping. Grazing some jams on iTunes. Running errands. Vacation and airfare searching. Sitting and staring. Being an old dude and standing outside of a certain apartment building, smoking with your fellow old dudes and yammering the night away. (Dang! Don't you bugs ever go inside your own homes? GO home, old dudes. Go and be an old dude inside your own home.)

Friend: Why haven't you joined Twitter yet?
Me: I don't know, I'm on facebook -
Friends: Twitter is where you can reach people you don't necessarily know personally or through a friend.
Me: I don't want to have to set up a new profile and all -
Friend: But Twitter tells you about the Kogi taco truck. And the cupcake truck.
Me: Cupcake truck?
Friend: Cupcake truck.
Me: Ah, cupcake truck...no. No, you know, I just don't need another time wasting website at this point in my life right now.

My Apartment Hunting Checklist.

I would save soooo much money if I lived in the burbs with my parents. But then I'd be - living in the burbs - with my parents.
As we near the end date of our lease, I dread the looming task of apartment hunting yet again. This would be move number five in four years. And why, in this tinseltown of golden dreams and high hopes, are all the apartments in the land dank and kind of depressing?

Anyhew, here's what I've got on my Checklist to begin with...

Parking: covered, gated, and not tandem.

Neighbors: None under the age of 5 (meaning, not of the wailing-and-crying stock.)

Pets: None in the building, none that can be heard. I am not what you'd call pet-friendly.

Square Footage: 500 SF at least, ideally. And a loft with 30 foot high ceilings. Hey, I still dare to dream.

Inhabitants: Does not come with a roommate. But will probably be priced such that I will wish I had a roommate.

Neighborhood: Downtown/Koreatown/Hollywood. Basically any part of town where I can get to a metro and thus, not drive to work. Maybe then I'll sell my car and only consort with those who live near metro stations or pick me up from my abode.

What I found in my mother's kitchen.

Or, more like what I didn't find.

After a hearty 12 hours of hibernation, I ventured downstairs to the kitchen - breakfast at noon. I was starved.

Let's see here- a dozen eggs, yes!
Ketchup? Not here.
Bread ? None.
Butter? No. Wait - yes there is some. In a 32 ounce block. When did they switch from Shedd's spread to real butter ? Things sure have changed in this family.
Cheese? Yes. I wonder how old this thing is.
"Sell by - a long ass time ago." I'll pass, thank you.
Bread in the freezer maybe? No. Some frozen waffles though - hmm this may be a back-up.
Maple syrup? Nope. Hmm.
Jelly? Yes! A scanty little portion of sugar free strawberry preserves.
Coffee? Ehh. The instant little coffee mix packs for individual servings. Meaning, not the good kind.
Juice? Negative. How can a family of three survive on such an empty fridge ?

And breakfast - is done. Just - nobody come over unexpectedly - because there is no ketchup, no syrup, and no coffee. But we can make you some scrambled eggs with no ketchup.

Those are not happy eggs.

getting outta town

Hopping on a flight from LAX to PHL, I wondered if Richard Simmons was cold wearing those shorts.

I couldn't help but secretly wish I was about to board a plane to Paris or Spain or London. This caught me by surprise as I waited at the gate. Didn't see that coming. A few years in LA, and maybe I need to take a real vacation, despite all the obvious reasons not to do so. Or maybe it is, in fact, time for a new adventure - travel to a foreign destination, a completely unknown locale.

All I know is, I'm taking vitamins, gradually getting back to the gym, psycho sleeping for 10 hours at a time, and yet still I am more exhausted than ever. And developing carpal tunnel to boot. And now I am getting a migraine.

Ah, things to think about.

Opportunity Available: New Crush Wanted.

Applications available by referral only.

New Crush Wanted.

Types: Clean-cut, tall, and handsome. Not afraid to man up. (I know that this last point rules out most guys in the greater Los Angeles area.)

Words: Articulate, polite, smart, witty, clean, made of gentleman stock.

Trademarks: Walks around to my side of the car to get the door before he gets over to his. Offers his jacket when I am fricking freezing, here.

Personal qualities: mature, down-to-earth, and a man of faith.

Smarts: can add numbers, spell correctly, and has an advanced grasp of the English language. Understanding of additional languages, a plus.

Likes: Doughnuts, baking cupcakes, watching movies, days at the beach, getting outta town, hot coffee, brunch, sushi, meat, Spanish tapas, chocolate, pie, cooking, Top Chef, Jason Mraz, Conan O'Brien, BoyzIIMen, and Counting Crows to begin with.

Knows: How to salsa dance, fix a flat tire, change a lightbulb.
Can carry a conversation about: backpacking in Europe, the movie Goonies, or shows like Boy Meets World, The Wonder Years, and 30 Rock. Knows how to have a little fun.

Golden tickets: Knows how to be a good listener. Knows that when a woman is talking about a problem she is not always looking for him to fix it, but sometimes just to shut up and listen.

Bills.

Recent credit card damages:

MILT & EDIE'S $24.00 - Comforter cleaning for the season.
ZAPPOS.COM $81.95 - zappos.com is my new best friend. I will never shop for shoes in a store ever again!
EXXONMOBIL $42.15 - gas.
EDIBLE ARRANGEMENTS $38.50 - birthday gift.
KABUKI REST HOLLYWOOD $18.98 - dinner.
EDIBLE ARRANGEMENTS $0.13 - that test pending charge from the other purchase.
TARGET $22.72 -necessary evil. If you went to the one at Empire Center you'd know my pain.
MARSHALLS $27.30 - found a belt and a pashmina.
HUGO S, STUDIO CIT $47.33 - brunch with the crush.
SHELL OIL $33.77 - you know.
H&M #138 SUNSET BLVD $88.11 - was still on the jeans-buying circuit.
OFF BROADWAY SHOES $32.67 - I needed black sandals. They were the only thing I could remotely fit my abnormally shaped feet in.
USAIRWAYS $381.20 - roundtrip airfare to visit back East, and thus, GET OUTTA TOWN.
HOUSE OF PIES $10.50 - one pumpkin pie. I was craving pie something fierce that day.
CVS $13.40 - band aids, moth ball refills.
DENNY'S $15.55 - impromptu late night bite with the girls.
BEDBATH & BEYOND $23.82 - earring tree. I'm trying to get organized, here.
PROGRESSIVE $95 - car insurance payment
TRADER JOE'S $18.10 - food.
ALBERTSON'S $7.15 - I was out of cheese. And yogurt.
COFFEE BEAN $3.90 - needed my vanilla latte fix.
LULU'S CAFE $16.20 - those pancakes. And their coffee is one of those strong-and-good ones that make you feel better about life.
FLAIRS $11.66 - alterations to jeans. See above H&M charge.
TRADER JOE'S $10.76 - got hungry again.
NAKWON HOUSE $17.46 - dinner with a friend.
CAFFE VILLAGE $23.12 - catching up with a friend over food.
MILT & EDIE'S $95.40 - dress alterations. (See next item)
BCBG $257.something - bought three dresses and a clutch. What, they were on sale! Did I mention I bought THREE?

No wonder I'm on a tight budget...I keep spending as if I don't know that...

Bitch, please.

"Hey, you know, when you talk to the bagel guy, you should ask them to switch to a different kind of cream cheese, and..."

Not the best thing for someone to open with when they walk to your cubicle on a grey Monday morning. Best to cut 'em off.

"I don't talk to the bagel guy."
"Oh, you don't?"
"No, they just deliver."
"Oh, well, if you can-"
"If you want to change the cream cheese flavors, then feel free to go ahead and call them."
"Oh ok. Well why don't you just give me the number -"
"I'll email you."
"Well you can write it down for me on a post-it and I'll call them."

So I stop whatever the fuck I'm doing and write down the phone number to the bagel place because you're complaining about the cream cheese flavors of the bagels you're getting for free ?!

Bitch, please.

So we are. Officially, at least, we guess so.

Good enough. Having the DTR talk is frickin nerve wrecking. Ah, nerves.

I miss Dunkin' Donuts. And chicken fingers. And buffalo wings with blue cheese. And cheese steaks with onions and hot peppers and mushrooms. It's a wonder I wasn't twice my size while growing up. It's high time I saw the folks and the bro. Los Angeles truly is la-la land. People are weird here. You know what I mean. Time to get out of town.

Fiscal Responsibility
So I bought my fourth pair of jeans within a month span. I've got to stop. These are not times to be fiscally irresponsible. The last pair of jeans were - well, I had a gift card. And they were 30% off. Ahh. Working-middle-class-upbringing-guilt-in-times-of-economic-crisis. But then I had three pairs of jeans altered. Why can't petite sizes be all around? Not all of us are 5'7". Venga, hombre!

COTW

Guys who are attentive. As in, not wrapped up in the chic flakiness of LA which has permeated through the air with the smog into everyone's lungs. If you do what you say you were going to do, it's refreshing (sadly). So, in conclusion, don't be sorry, just do what you say you're going to do.

Tasting menus. Unnecessary, but a nice touch.

Being able to conclude that we are, in fact, officially dating. I mean, we guess so.

The blur. Ask me out again. I dare ya.

Somebody get me a pina colada. In a coconut cup.

I hope those tight-but-stretchy-jeans I just bought still fit. Have replaced workouts with fatigue. And noshing on dark chocolate M&M's at the office. We'll see what round two of my blood test results say next week.

Hurry up and ask me out again. Seriously.
I have no patience when it comes to dating. I don't like waiting around. Let's get things moving along, here.

Maybe it's how God is teaching me patience. Why does dating have to take so much finesse ? And advice asking and friends' experiences and different input from every freaking body ?

Dog-owner friend says: yeah, that's so cute, you should definitely go out with him!
RN friend says: Honestly, I don't know why you're wasting your time with this guy.
Co-worker says: Who was that guy? You should go out with him, I think he likes you.
Other co-worker: He's awfully cute. You should give him a nudge.

People really like giving dating advice, regardless of personal status.

I'm young and...tired.

I like naps. Okay so - the doc took another blood sample today. After my blood results from the last two vials came back completely healthy - healthy white blood cells, normal iron count, healthy thyroid results. This time around they are checking for mono and...something else I can't remember. I basically feel like I have the stamina of a grandma. Slept a solid 8 hours last night, woke up exhausted, and then slept for another six hours. Got up to go to the doctor's office - which was struggle itself - because I wanted to go back to bed and sleep more.

My last appointment, my doctor may have mentioned something along the lines of, "You are in your twenties and you're young, but the mileage that your body does on a daily basis at work may be much more than that." Does she know that I'm a HWA ? I don't remember putting that on my insurance card. But that kind of got me thinking - I don't think I'm doing much more work than anyone else my age - in terms of personal and professional stress, workload, etc. I mean, right ?

So I picked up some vitamins along with some Band-Aids on the way home. I picked up Band-Aids because I am running low on them, not because they happen to be in neon colors.

OACUN

When are we going out again?

And, I wonder when I get my tax refund...

Back to reality. And, did I really pay that much for jeans?

Monday is back again. How come Monday sneaks up on you, leaving the weekend behind as nothing but a distant and faded memory?
Got my blood results back. Completely healthy. Well then, why am I tired all the time? You can't just be giving me B12 shots every week. I don't have that kind of time!

Did I really pay that much for jeans?
As you may know, HWAs (Hollywood Assistants) don't make a ton of moolah. Okay here's what I'm really trying to say: Why did no one stop me when I paid $60 for a pair of jeans? And then $50 on my second pair ? And then I may have dropped them off today at the cleaners to get them altered for another $25?! Ay que, venga! In this economy. Plus the 9.25% CA sales tax.

I think I always bought jeans on sale. $10, $20, in PA (with no sales tax on clothes - yeah, I know). Paying full price is not so fun. Who could've foreseen that three pairs of jeans would spring holes at the same frickin time ?

Los Angeles truly is la-la land. $200 for a pair of Rock & Republics? We're not in Kansas anymore. (Or the suburbs of Philly.)

I may have a stupid belt that I got for $30.
It is kind of cute, though.

Ah, the waste. Nobody tell my Mom, please.

COTW

Label jeans at $20 or less. Where have those days gone ?

Lunching at less than ten bucks. You are sensible, Koreatown. So are you, Porto's - but you've GOT to do something about that parking lot.

Vitamin B12 shots are delicious.

Yesterday I had dinner, got home, got into bed around 7:30 or 8pm and fell asleep. With the light on. Woke up at 6:30am today. Where did the stamina of my college days go? Hopefully my blood work will tell me something. Last week my doctor's office took two vials of blood from my inner arm and gave me a shot of vitamin B12 - and was feeling rather alive until about 3am. And then woke up at 7:30am. Those things are nice.
I wonder how normal it is to feel tired for a few weeks. Or have I been tired for a year...?

COTW

People who can spell. Honestly, 'jewlery'? You're killin' me, Smalls.

We're dating...right ?

So we're a few dates in. You're cute. I'm cute. Things have been going pretty smoothly.

Do guys not offer their jackets anymore? It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't so damn windy out. Stupid Santa Ana winds. I'm in a sleeveless dress and starting to rub my arms. Repeatedly. I'm rooting for you, really, I am. Every time I start rubbing my arms in the chilly air I'm rooting for you to offer your jacket. Venga, guapo - work with me, here.

Makes me wonder if we're wandering into the friend zone.

But I do love the doors-getting-opened-for-me-and-the-wait-for-me-to-walk-through thing...

COTW crush-of-the-week

Guys in button-down shirts where the top button on the collar is in a contrasting color than the rest of the buttons on the shirt. I kind of want to make out with the shirt.

Guys in dress shoes. The kind that make low tapping sounds on marble floors.

Don't forget to relax. Today: No coffee, no work.

What a relaxing weekend. Relaxation. Remember what that feels like? Feels weird, vaguely familiar. Got some shopping done and spent way too much money over clothes and food. AND the ArcLight. Hey - I know, this economy, yada yada yada, but I haven't gone there in a good long while. Really. Besides, I earn points there.

COTW crush-of-the-week

Guys in the sweater over the shirt-and-tie combo. Professional, preppy, nice. It could be a cardigan sweater, even. Anything where the shirt and tie pops out over the sweater a bit.

Guys that open my door. Where is the modern gentleman these days? Seems courtesy and chivalry have fallen through the cracks. So when it does happen, it's incredibly refreshing. Like a Pellegrino with lime. Or Ciudad's minty fresh lime cooler.

Guys in the fitted-black-leather-jacket-over-white-crewneck-tee-and-jeans combo. Saw 17 Again and Zac Efron rocks it. Montage went on maybe a moment too long - but I must say I love that ensemble.

What's in that?

I do a little online shopping and I get a free sample and hear about apparently this "most expensive perfume in the world." Who needs that? Over $300 a pop and marketing it as an aphrodisiac? What's in that? Satan juice?

WOTW
amuse bouche. noun. A small complimentary appetizer offered at some restaurants.

Dunkin' Donuts Airport Locations, and What I bought at Albertsons.

Because America runs on Dunkin'.

PHL Philadelphia International Airport: Terminal B. A short walk away from Terminal A.

DCA Reagan National Airport (Washington, DC): North Pier, Center Pier, and South National Hall! You are now my favorite national airport.

Chicago O'Hare airport: Terminal 3. Open 6am-10pm. (http://www.flychicago.com/ohare/concessionsohare/OhareFoodBeverages.shtm) This airport sucks, however, as each terminal has long and angled out corridors so if you don't have enough time to walk a few miles between flights, I suggest you just get to your gate and stay PUT. Next time, Terminal 3 DD. There will come a time.

What I bought at Albertsons'
My grocery receipt included the following:

tortilla chips
salsa
Lu cookies
mini oreos
multi-grain bread
vanilla yogurt
frozen chicken strips
chocolate fruit dip
red seedless grapes

I may have had the munchies at the time.

COTW: French cookies.

Fast forward, s'il vous plait.

Let's skip the bs and get to Friday already. Life is short.

Should I get rid of my car?
I've been thinking. What if I got rid of my car? I took it in for it's overdue round of service - let's see, what was that, $2-300? Then I'm renewing my insurance policy on it so there's the monthly insurance payments to the tune of $100/month. Such a burden. Car is king in LA, I know; but, alas, it's become luggage. Having to traipse around LA trying to find parking. That keeps sucking money out of you...

So this is what my life has come to. Reviewing my car insurance policy. That's the most important thing on my to do list these days. That and filing my taxes (still haven't done them), getting the button sown back on my jacket, and doing the laundry this weekend. But no one really talks about all that. And why would they?

Why can't men be like Europe?
Europe is just as old and charming and romantic and beautiful as I remember it to be. Why can't more men be like that? Hmm. Well, minus the 'old,' of course.

And, as much as I'm trying not to rub it in, it is really nice to get out of LA. Honestly. Really, really, really nice.

COTW crush-of-the-week

Spotted: the matching shirt and ascot combo. Niiice. If you don't ask me out by next week, maybe I'll have to ask you out myself. Yeah! No - don't make me do that.

People who like pie. And, of course, House of Pies on Vermont.

Thanks, Augustine. If that's your real name.

COTW
Cute kid. Driving the courtesy shuttle van at my car dealership when I took it in for service.
"What's your name?" He mumbles something.
"What was that?"
"Augustine," he says.
I bet he just made that up, I mused.
"Thanks for driving me, outside of the five-mile radius and all." (Thanks, dealership.)
"Sure. Yeah, they can be really strict about it, but it's not that busy right now."
Dark hair, dark eyes. Nice teeth.I wonder if this is what a cougar feels like.

Guys with names like Augustine.

Doogie, Clooney, and the thinking candle has been lit.

You know, I really do love Doogie Howser. Some people say, at least for men, the way to their hearts is through their stomachs. For women, at least in LA, its something in the vague cloud of ambition, breakthrough acting roles, and the gaudy throwing around of money - or - something.
At the moment my heart's in TV - eps of Doogie. Vinnie - did you ever think about waxing those babies down? You and Sylar should go in - together. Hiro could come pick you up in 1989.

Doogie, oh Doogie. Did we look that puny when we were sixteen?

Took in a recent ep of ER. Have you seen any of these recently? The old faces were back - Margulies, Wyle, La Salle, and Clooney! Reason enough for me to tune back in. Cloooooneeeeeeeeeeeey?!

I'm really supposed to be working on my assignments for my screenwriting class which I am still lagging behind in. Procrastination has always been a bitch.

So now I have lit my thinking candle in the efforts of inspiration. It burns on the table next to me, flickering. Think think think. What are stories ever really about, anyway? Journeys...love, war, identity, adventure, revenge, self-discovery, coming-of-age, friendships, adulthood, betrayal, survival.

Okay - so I'm finally getting somewhere - decided to chisel away some more of the characterization to get the details. Now the wheels are turning. ;) And they smell like vanilla.
Well I should really get off of this blog and get to work - wouldn't want to lose face in my own class.

Ah, how I miss Boy Meets World.

COTW - the hipster invasion.

COTW
Spotted: dark-haired hipster working at the trader joe's
toluca lake. Got that whole indie rocker thing down yet STILL looking
clean-cut. Donning a black-and-white checkered scarf that went cool
instead of country. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it; you are
hot. What kind of moisturizer do you use? Nice to see a man who takes
care of himself.

Guys in checkered scarves.

Alternatively, dressin' it up...

Guys in matching folded ascot and tie (or oxford). Fine accessory, monumental effects.

Wow. That is really not a flattering picture at ALL. I don't understand why people are so obsessed with this kid, anyway.

So how old are you? 30?

It has recently been brought to my attention that I can pass for 30. Yup, I'm surprised too. I wonder if anyone who has read this blog would slap her and cite the many instances of emotional combustion and moments of flagrant insecurity, impatience, and well, ultimately, immaturity which stem from this twentysomething HWA. (Yup, new one HWA: Hollywood Assistant. Keep up with me here, I'm not even going that fast since I'm still weighed down from this past week's Girl Scout cookie gluttony.)

Hmm. I've now crossed into that era of age being a sensitive subject. It brings to mind - fading youth, and thus less cool, less attractive, and oh-so-out-of-touch. Ooh, stigmas. But then there's always Madonna.

But put me in front of a churro kiosk and I will have reverted back ten years or more. Those things are a piece of dulce genius.

I can be just as immature as the next person.

[photo creds: about churros]

Dark Chocolate-Covered Quiet. And, Fun with Personal Ads.

I am typing on my laptop on my bed. It's 9:30pm and I'm exhausted. Work. Gym. Shower. Dinner. Reading. Behind in my reading. Now debating whether I would stay awake if I pop in Before Sunrise now. Probably not.

As my roommate's cackling echoes in the hallway outside my closed bedroom door, it disrupts the flow of my thoughts and I feel my annoyance festering. There's a smoker outside my window coughing. The clanging of the gate of the apartment building next door. Somebody's over there, getting buzzed in at the callbox. Five old Armenian dudes with nothing to do stand outside for many nights, smoking and yammering away. A short dog with a high-pitched bark is yapping away. The roar of passing cars and the pop-pop-popping if they hit some of the potholes.

Wondering where I can pick up some dark chocolate dipping sauce...I dream of quiet. Dipped in dark chocolate.

DOTW

Guys with noserings - the bull branding kind. Hey, if I wanted to herd cattle, I never would have left Boonietown, PA. No sexiness in that.

Fun with personal ads
One guy's one-liner is "forget the rest and go with the best." Another's profile headline says "Is it hot in here?" You do know you're 35, right?

WHAT IS WITH the guys with pictures of themselves in front of fancy cars?
Guess what? NOBODY CARES. Its all kinds of lame. Save it for your facebook wall postings, buddy - it is attractive to no self-respecting ladies.

Occupation: "business man." Hmm, and what sort of business would you be in? The business of nose candy? Be more specific.

Another headline: "in mid-life, but no crisis" - yup. Real convincing. Age? 42. Looking for: women, 21-40. Yeah. Right.

We're all behind, here.

Now that I know everyone is behind, I don't feel all that panicked. Getting back on track this week. Catching up on the work, the reading, and the writing. Thank God I'm no longer studying for another exam anymore.
I was horribly concerned that I was two weeks and a world behind in my online screenwriting class - assignments, lectures, and class discussion and feedback, plus the films to view. Moment of truth and sigh of relief when I check the boards and half the class is behind.
I hate large groups at small cafes. ABSOLUTELY LOATHE HIM. WTF. Go away, people. Don't you dare ask me for an extra chair. Yeah, I said it.

COTW

Guys in striped cardigans. Guys in cardigans.

Guys rockin' the matching oxford and neatly folded handkerchief in the jacket pocket look. Delicious. BUT ALL IS LOST if we can see the fuzz popping out from the tragic decision to stop buttoning up a notch or two too early. Cover it up, Rico Suave.

WTFAIDWML?!

Did I just kill half a box of lemon chalet cremes? I put the box away like nothing ever happened. Maybe today is the day that I become a stress-eater. You know, one of people who gets those binges triggered by emotional distress. Bulimia nervosa. Yeah, that's right. I was listening that day in seventh grade health class.
Watch out, everybody. Girl scout cookie season is in full swing.

I'm sooo tired. So tired so tired so tired so tired.

LOOKING FORWARD TO a weekend where I have absolutely nothing planned. No plans, no dinner dates, no shopping appointments with the girl friends, no errands, nada. I am just effing tired, here.

There's always something.

COTW:None! Man, I'm tired. And now I'm sad that there isn't a single one to note for this week.

More to post later. Stay tuned, everybody. I mean, stay tuned, my total of two readers.

Oh. So that's what fun feels like.

Really? How quickly I've forgotten.

Fun can come in packages, large and small. They can come in single servings, or in a trio (like a Tastykake Butterscotch Krimpet, for example).

Tonight I'm tired. Enveloped in three layers of clothing plus my comforter, my stack of books sit on the floor, unopened (and un-studied) since before I left town for the weekend. I'm tired. My eyes are bleary and I wonder where the day has gone.

I sit at my desk, drinking my Dunkin' Donuts brewed coffee. No, they're still not in L.A. But take a peek in your grocer's coffee aisle.

Did I tell you this already? Also, hello public transportation.

Getting stuck in conversations you can't get out of. Who knew, when you were a kid, that life would consist of more and more of that as you got older?

While connecting in ye olde PHL:
Guy relaying his grilled salmon recipe. The stuff that old people are made of. Sounds like Susie Homemaker's male equivalent, Gary Garrulous with peppy little fro. He explains his recipe, emphasizing that its just so simple, yet proceeds with the painfully long tirade. Gary loves it and now he's a genius.
Everyone thinks they're a genius with their ONE recipe that they know. Gray-haired looking Phyllis type looks on, nodding, if she's losing interest it doesn't show. Those standing by can't believe she's not bored. She goes, "sure, I know how to do that (part). Ok, ok."

Well, I did take the bus for the first time in Los Angeles in three and a half years. It was nice. No - no sketchy people on this ride at 6:53am in Burbank. Still shocked? Here's the blurry picture to prove it.

Back on the wagon. I'm tired infinity.

I drink too much coffee, I could sleep for 12 hours straight if I wanted to, and lately I've had a penchant for large cups of frozen yogurt laden with crunchy and gooey toppings. Self-serve, baby. I'm thinking about it right now. Maybe I should take that into consideration the next time my lease is up; mental note: must move into building within two blocks of a frozen yogurt joint.

Last night I had chicken tenders for the first time in what must be two years. With honey mustard. Let me rephrase. OMG, the honey freaking mustard. How absence makes the craving go NUTS.

So I'm back on the wagon this week. I'm tired and hungry and exhausted and my back hurts and I'm getting carpal tunnel in my left hand. This is really going to cut into my partying. Bummer. Make that both hands and wrists. It's official, I'm falling apart. I didn't think that I was being that lazy and inactive but, since the pants don't seem to fit, all's downhill from here I hear... Gaining a few pounds was so much easier to cover up in college - hoodie, yoga pants, done.

Looking for more peace and quiet more now than ever. I wonder how many different times in my life I have said that I'm tired. And how many more times I'll say it. I'm so tired - infinity. Yup. That should cover it. Now I need to go shop for a hoodie big enough to envelop Fatty McOffice Pants.

Chicken tenders are a gateway drug, kids.

Speculation, Eye Twitching, and Mochi=A Simple Life

Some people speculate about an office crush. Some speculate about having a nicer car, nicer apartment, or winning the lottery. As for me, my routine daydreams revolve around time. And breakfast. I dream about getting up early enough to stop by the local joint before work and sitting down to a full hour of strong coffee, french toast and perusing the paper.
Or a huge plate of chocolate chip pancakes with syrup, fluffy scrambled eggs, and some Tabasco sitting at the ready. Or maybe a heaping Belgian waffle covered in fresh strawberries and whipped cream. Or a goat cheese and spinach scramble. Add a glass of freshly squeezed oj. Sometime between Monday and Friday.
It has yet to happen, I suspect that to be the reason for its lingering stamp on my brain. I dare to dream to have the luxury of time before rush hour.

My eye is twitching. I have had some anxiety of being a bit busier, what with studying for a secondary career, taking on a writing class, and hitting the gym more than once in a blue moon. Didn't see the twitching coming, however.
I have no idea how people manage marriages and raising kids while having a full-time career, nevertheless going to school. It's nuts. It's absolutely nuts. Thank God I can go home and close the door to my room and be alone. Note to self: I really do need to get a 'Do Not Disturb' sign for my room. Make that two. (For work, of course.)

Froyo and the Simple (and Good) LifeI finally got my frozen yogurt after days of a dissatisfied hankering. Some tart original flavor and self-serve topping madness. I was thinking, in that moment, there's something so genuine about it. Enjoying something sweet. The world grew quiet for a moment. Nothing else mattered except for savoring the sweet and crunchy cup of goodness - there's nothing adult or complicated about it. Mochi, sprinkles, strawberries, and oreo cookie crumble, in case you're wondering? Who knew? Mochi over froyo and life is simple again.

LOTW"This is Top Chef, not Top Scallops!" Fabio Viviani, Top Chef contestant (Season 5, Episode 7). Fabio doubles as COTW. Also interesting that though the Italiano resides in the greater L.A. area, pronounces his European roots on all counts. Guess LA really does consist of local transplants who will stop at nothing to defend the fact that they're not from L.A.

I realize I am quite behind in my television watching - apologies for the delay, life has gone a little nuts and has begun to change lanes and run a couple of the red lights (please see paragraph regarding eye twitching above). Many thanks to the total of four readers that manage to skim thru my humble blog.

The No Sweat Yoga. Aging Conversations. Fantasy.

Just walked away from my first ever yoga class.
Conclusion: I am not mature enough for yoga. Can't stop laughing. AND why don't we turn the lights on? My goodness. I don't feel like I did anything - breathing. It was more of a breathing class. Ah well. I have signed up for this nine-week commitment and I will ride it out.
Addendum: I'm more of a high-intensity workout personality. Pounding on a treadmill, pumping iron, rolling out the crunches; in other words, painful sweat sessions.

Aging Conversations
Older Friend: Why don't you girls go out dancing lately? I don't understand - you're young - why are you guys tired all the time?
Me: First of all, we are all busy. Second, I'm trying to accomplish other things in life simultaneously, i.e. studying, saving money. Thirdly, I'm not initiating social outings anymore.
What I remembered later on was: We're young but we work really hard and sometimes we're completely spent.

I am too old to go clubbing. I'm not talking about salsa clubs, but the uber-trendy somewhere-on-Cahuenga-Blvd.-joints . Life is short, time is priceless. I am too old to deal with the bullshit of waiting in a long ass line outside of a barren club.

Fantasy.
I've noticed that people fantasize around here. A LOT. I thought it was interesting that it happens often or maybe I'm just picking up on it. Hypotheticals of a Sugar Mama/Sugar Daddy or If-I-Won-The-Lottery tangents. I wonder. Perhaps if LA wasn't based on such superficial and costly ideals it wouldn't be as rampant in these parts.
Financial power is something we'd all always want more of. Maybe I'm just a bit too realistic to spend time thinking about that. The odds aren't in our favor. And even if those odds happen to transpire in your lifetime, what is it really? Aren't you just alienating friends and family, and getting directed to the bracket of the population with a higher suicide rate?

Respect the Chillaxation.

SO
Been dragging my feet all week along with the rest of the world, emerging from our two weeks of holiday and sweets-laden hibernation. I have taken to guzzling punch bowls of coffee. Some images stay on the brain from the jet-setting trails. Why are we all so drained?
In lieu of the aforementioned - I am a HUGE fan of independence and time spent in solitary reflection. Mental note: shop for a 'Do Not Disturb' sign. Maybe two.

DsOTW

V-neck tee shirts - why do men keep making the same mistakes? No one can pull this off - no one. Stay away from the V-necks.

To the chick donning the skintight long-sleeved black top, white leggings, and camel-colored Uggs on the stairmaster - nothing says you're a moron any louder. Were you absent that day in health class, fashion school, AND common sense?

Bike shorts with a t-shirt tucked in - Just Don't Do It.

Homes, A Lost Blog Entry.

I am attempting to recreate a blog entry which had failed to post (or save, for that matter), while going mobile during the holidays. Can't recall all that I had blogged within that particular moment chillin' at the Philly airport, but here goes..

After finding my departure location in Terminal C, I cruised around in search of the Dunkin' Donuts of my past viaje - a quick stroll across the concourse of Terminal B's food court and gates and, at the very end, a single patron stood between myself and the Dunkin'.


Glorious. It is truly the little things that make the monumental differences in life. Especially after checking two bags and deciding to bring a guitar with me, plus shelling out extra cash for the oh-so-eternally-disintegrating airline industry (in this case, for checking bags). (OACUN, does anyone actually buy those adult onesies from SkyMall magazine?) Then that flight with all the kids and screaming babies...

It's been tough trying to avoid shopportunities knocking - stores are seemingly inches away from having their salespeople beat shoppers with sticks holding up signs denoting drastically deep discounts. One day. It'll be on Youtube.

After escaping the chilly 17 degree F weather in Philly, I must say it is peachy to return to LA's warmer climes.

As a transplant in this crazy town, I always look back with no less than a spark of surprise that I've somehow ended up here; with no urging from anyone I knew, and three thousand miles away from family. This year - hmm. Thoughts on the economy, mistakes made, goals accomplished, personal and spiritual growth as an adult.

Okay - so much thought weighing over the economy. I resolved to do something differently - save more money, brown bag more lunches, cut back on tix to the ArcLight, cook at home. A couple days back in town and I was whipping out bowls of pasta, chicken parmesan and roasted potatoes. I even bought two new cookbooks from the One Dollar Book Store in "beautiful downtown Burbank." Vamos a ver, supongo.

Hmm. Back in LA. Back in town. But there was something irreplaceable - undeniably genuine about spending time in my parents' house - is that it feels like a home, not just a few friends thrown together in an apartment in a post-college haze. (And LA apartments, in my experience, have become a dime-a-dozen, and subsequently a depressing part of the Angeleno landscape.)

Back to work. What a long commute it was this morning.