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.

Stinging Monday.

It is now Tuesday and I've concluded that there's nothing avoidable like the sting of a Monday. I like my job, my co-workers, my office, my three-mile drive to work, and my boss. Monday still effin' sucks. It's more the dread of the work week, and Monday is only the beginning. And work isn't bad, it's going well and yada yada yada. It's just Mondays. Incredibly sluggish and long and depressing and tiring.
Enter Monday night salsa classes. No, wait. Enter Rodrigo, the incredibly attractive salsa instructor.
Hello, Mondays. We meet again.

It's become essential that the priorities of planning activities and appointments arrive at the forefront within the midst of the daily hustle-and-bustle. Something to look forward to that helps you get through the rest of the day, the week, the year. Whatever it is, is much more monumental than you realize.

More on this post later. Gotta grab a bite before we check out this other salsa class.

You mean NORTH ? Protein Berry, and Tabasco! Claro!

"Where do you live?"
"Right above Sunset Blvd."
Really, above? So, does that mean you're, literally in a space that sits physically over the four lanes of traffic? Hmm, interesting. Or you mean you're under Hollywood Blvd.? Because, let's face it, if you're above one thing then you could also be under something else (this is a G rated statement).
Was everyone absent on that same day in third grade? Cardinal directions? Or in kindergarten with the Left and Right designations? North, South, East, West. No, you're not above Wilshire. I think you mean North. Let it catch on like wildfire like it was supposed to twenty-some years ago.

It's four o'clock in the afternoon. The wave of fatigue has enveloped me at this particular Monday moment. I dream of a smoothie. It is packed with strawberries and bananas and soymilk. I go downstairs only to remember that the cafe downstairs is closed by now. I walk back upstairs. Protein Berry has my name all over it right now. Three more hours until the opportunity presents itself. Woman cannot live on dark chocolate alone.

August 13, 2008
It's Wednesday. Turns out, I like going to work earlier. Less traffic, more parking available, and an earlier day. Still not a morning person.

Note to self: Do not toss empty containers of sesame salad dressing in the wastebasket under my desk. Pungent sweet-n-salty aroma will persist throughout the day.

Thursday, August 14, 2008
Breakfast sandwich: egg-cheese-bacon number on wheat toast. In the kitchen: ketchup? no. tabasco? no. NO Tabasco?!!

VENGA!

I begrudgingly finish my bland breakfast sandwich, but I dream of other condiments. Of the spicy, the tangy, the glorious. Mental note: Must bring personal spicy condiments to work.
At least tomorrow's Friday.

WOOOOOOOH!!! Yeah!!