Archive for January, 2008

Ode to my Dog. Love you Maxi-pants!

A short while ago, I was enveloped with a feeling of sadness.

I was fuming over the fate of my friendship with the Evil Troll. I was feeling sorry for myself for being involved in an untenable living situation. I was getting nervous about how much money this whole debacle is going to cost and how I am going to deal with it. I was anxious over the fact that my MCLE compliance is due in like 5 minutes and I don’t know where a single of my pesky certifictes are. Basically, I was wallowing in my life.

And then two things happened. First, Aimee Man’s song “wise up” rotated onto my ipod and into my ears. And then my adorable love bug of a dog came over and plopped down on my lap.

1. Aimee is right. I need to wise up. Evil Troll is an Evil Troll and will continue to be so. I just have to accept that and stop letting it bother me. The reality about the roommate situation, both the old one and finding a new one, is that I can’t make it work out. I just have to do the best I can, try to be the best person I can be (being a good person is really hard right now, because I am really really really mad), and hope for the best. And not worry so much about it. Worst case, I lose a few thoudand dollars and learn an invaluable lesson (I am not sure what the lesson is, except maybe don’t live with Evil Trolls). Instead of worrying about the MCLE certs, all I needed to do was find the pesky suckers – which I did (kind of – found some and did the rest online).

2. I can’t be *that* mad at the world when I am reminded of my sweet, lovely, innocent, beautiful dog.

So anyhow, I am still mad. But I feel much better.

Advertisements

The Evil Troll Makes Me Break My Promise.

The Evil Troll with whom I am forced to co-habitate has literally gone off her rocker today. Also, I know that I said that I would not write about her again, I can’t help myself. She has literally ruined my day. AHHHHH!!!!!

She sent me a text that read:

“Do not throw away my copies of Variety that get delivered to the house. I don’t throw away your things and you have no right to throw away mine.”

I replied [Note: I regret very much that I replied. Evil Troll obviously is crazy* and thus incapable of communication with. Trying only makes me 1) as crazy as her and 2) frustrated] with the following:

“I have never thrown away your Variety mag or anything of yours. You are way out of line.”

[Note: I truly have not thrown away her magazines. As much I dislike her (and I dislike her a LOT) I am not the type to do something to someone else or their property.]

She writes back: “There were 2 of my variety’s that I have never seen in the kitchen trash can when I arrived home. Since you and I are the only two who live here, and I didn’t throw them away myself, you had to have thrown them away. When I see my property in the trash and I did not put it there, it is not out of line to tell you not to throw my things away.”

I write: “Like I said before, I did not throw them away. Rest assured that I have no fear of telling you if I had. Let’s just agree to disagree and not touch each other’s stuff. I dont want any more trouble with you. I just want my peace and for us to just leave each other alone.”

Troll writes: “Not believable Diet Coke. The newspapers didn’t get up and walk themselves into the trash. It doesn’t make sense that neither you nor I threw then away and yet there they were on top of the trash. Perhaps Certain Someone, your parents, or another house guest of yours? Either way, whether it was you or someone you brought to the house, you are still responsible. I don’t know about the touching each other part of your text. That’s a weird thing to say and doesn’t make sense in the context of this conversation, or any for that matter. Im sure neither of us want to spend our sunday texting about this, so let’s just agree not to throw each other’s things away.”

1. Are you fucking kidding me? Was this conversation really had?? Yes. Yes it was. Also, why in the hell is she digging around in the trash? Creepy.

2. How am I expected to deal with this insane person who accuses me of doing things I am not doing??!?! Her telling me I threw her magazine away is like me telling her she did it. And then her saying she did not. And then me saying she did!! CRAZY!! And I have to live with her. It is seriously like torture.

3. What is this strange thing she said about “touching each other.” Was the trying to be funny? Is this a further indication of her crazy??!! I don’t get it.

4. Most important, how am I supposed to feel comfortable living with this insane person? I feel like she may try to poison me in my sleep. For real for real. This is not right. To this point, I was at my parents house tonight, and my Mom’s friend Margarita, who is just the kindest soul ever, and who has met Evil Troll on several occasions said:

She is the kind of girl that would try to sleep with your husband while you are out of town.

Funny because it’s true.

5. Troll is a really bad person. If Karma does exist (and I think it does), she better tread with a lot of caution because the Universe probably has her on a most wanted list.

*This latest event is not all that Evil Troll has done to show her crazy. She also took it upon herself to send a totally dishonest letter to our landlord “terminating our lease” for an alleged breach of the lease by landlord…WITHOUT TALKING TO ME!!! The co-tenant on the lease!!! Crazy. She then sent me am email accussing me of lying to her about how much the bills are. I then sent her a copy of all the bills. She then decided that she still was not going to pay them. Why? Because she is CRAZY!!! And there is soooo much more.

Parking. Many try but few succeed.

I am not contending that parking in Los Angeles is always a simple task. Some areas (much of West Hollywood comes to mind) have cars packed within an inch of their life (some might call this “bumper to bumper”). I am talking car all up on the sidewalk action. Still other places have pesky hills AND parking congestion…and we all know parallel parking on a hill is IMPOSSIBLE! For me at least – and since this is really all about me – my truth is your truth.

I concede that sometimes the parking shit show in LA can’t be avoided, but other times I can’t help but see how someone is parking and think – “this person if a mother effing asshole”. For real for real.

And hence this post. I give you:

Part II of Driving Lessons From a Really Bad Driver that May or May Not Suck At Life: Parking.

Parking, like the masterful use of the turn signal, is usually pretty damn easy. There are really only two options. First, we have the parallel park.

Parallel parking is admittedly the trickier of the two parking options. Sometimes, a spot is just the exactish size of your car and requires precision-like understanding of geometry, topography, physics and religion to get into. Those spots, in my opinion, should be left for the pros. Most of us layparkers have no chance in hell of fitting our metal heaps elegantly into such spots. My advice to my readers: if you see such spot – keep moving. If you are reading this blog, you probably are not very smart and should look for something more probable. Jkjkjk, you are BRILLIANT.

Also, if you are in one of those one lane squished up streets (as in, not enough room for two whole calls to fit side by side) and your parallel parking skills are below average, you aren’t allowed to even attempt a park if there are cars waiting to pass. Sorry, those are the breaks. All of Spaulding’s commuters should not have their lives put on hold because you don’t have the skills that should have been acquired by the age of sixteen and a half.

For the larger parallel spots, the rules of etiquette of parallel parking are key. Do not, and I repeat – DO NOT – leave a safe zone buffer of two feet in front of you or behind you. Particularly if you have a piece of shit car. And if you have a fancy car that you are terribly worried about, you should have saved your money and gotten a place with an actual parking garage instead. If I see a you have parked your car so as to prevent anyone from parking in front or behind you, I wish bird poop to fall upon your hood.

The next option is head in parking. This is easy people. The rule is simple. FIT YOUR CAR BETWEEN THE PAINTED LINES. This means, your car may not spill out into the space next to you. Your suburban can not go into a compact space. Your car may not abut 5 feet out into the passing lane. And really, that’s about it.

Them be the rules of parking.

And as for me? I valet.

I need the light. Where the hell is it?

I was intending to write about how I was famous because my live blog of last week’s project runway was linked to at Blogging Project Runway (the hands down bestest blogging PR site). Then I was going to write about how I may have a TV addiction issue because I actually got mad at Certain Someone last night when he seemingly broke the TV. Then I was going to write a few random, funny and charming paragraphs about random, funny events that took place over the course of the weekend.

But alas, life took a nasty, unwelcome turn changing the course of today’s post. My roommate, fueling our ongoing house drama in her own special, indignant, deceitful way has taken an action that has swiftly caused her to become my least favorite person in the whole wide world (counting only those people who I know personally). Actually, she probably was before this latest event too, but her position is now cemented – at least for the time being.

All that has gone on with my roommate, aside from causing me to rue the day that I ever allowed her into my life, introduced her to my family and friends, and foolishly moved in with her, also makes me wonder if it is easier to spend one’s life in solitude, not allowing one self to be impacted by the actions and complications presented by introducing others into your life.

When I look at my own life, the people I love bring me an immense about of joy. But they also cause me about 97% of the pain I experience – the other 3% being paper cuts and like. Take dating for example. When I am not dating anyone, I typically do not feel anything is amiss. In fact, I tend to feel strong and comfortable in singledom and enjoying spending time making adventures out of otherwise mundane tasks. But when I am involved in a relationship that goes bad, it makes me feel like total shit – like my whole world is crumbling and things will never be as I want them to be. I go into an emotional tailspin which can take weeks to recover from. And such feelings of gloom doesn’t even have to be precipitated by a serious or meaningful relationship – we are talking about any joe schmoe.

The same thing is happening with Roomie. Basically, before her, I was perfectly happy. Then she enters my life, behaves as though she is devil spawn (maybe she is) and I am the one left holding the bag and feeling like crap? How is that fair?

Probably what I feel reflects more on the way that I approach relationships than it does the value of relationships in general. I know that I have to be more discerning about the people that I give my time and love to. And I have to not be afraid to cut off a relationship once it starts to cause me harm or ceases to be healthy – basically, I need to have higher standards for myself.

But the fact is, I have repeated the same unhealthy behavior (the pattern being care for someone more than I ought to, allowing myself to be hurt by them, being completely and irrationally heart broken, and then shut the person out of my life completely and never looking back) so many times in my 28 years, that I don’t know how to stop.

Whats more, I don’t even know that I want to stop. While my accept everyone/everything until it blows up in my face approach has caused my heart to bruise many times, I’ve also had the pleasure of having built so many amazing friendships that I know will last the rest of my natural life (the afterlife too, if there is one). I have an amazing circle of friends (sadly, most of whom live not in Los Angeles) that I know I can rely on – so I must be doing something right. But then I also seem to be having a growing circle of used to be friends that I now can’t stand, so I am obviously doing something wrong too. (Actually, Roomie is the only friend I can’t stand – she shares that spot with several men I have dated)

I need to see the light. Where the hell is the light? Actually, I know what the light would say. I need to stop relying on others to make me happy, thereby taking away their power to make me sad. I just don’t know how to implement this into my life. Either way, I have decided not to let myself ruminate in my anger any further. It does not help me to feel better.

And so, this marks the last time I will ever speak of Roomie in this forum. While she unfortunately may be in my line of site from time to time, she will no longer have the benefit of being in my thoughts, being featured in my glorious blog, nor having a place in my heart.

Aside: At the behest of certain someone, I am experimenting with the use of bold. I feel like it is overly dramatic. Even for me. Thoughts?

The electoral process is for the birds.

I read an article on the world wide Internet today that got me thinking. The gist of the article was that some judge decided that Nevada’s Democratic Party can go ahead and set up precincts in Las Vegas casinos for the caucuses set to take place this weekend. Then the Teachers Union got all in a tizzy because they aren’t on the strip. Then the Nevada Culinary Workers Union (can’t make this shit up) got all in a tizzy back at the Teacher’s Union accusing them of hating black people…err, I mean supporting Hillary.

Anyhoo, long story short, the absurdity of it all made me wonder: Whatever the fuck ever happened to the notion of reasonable campaigns? Having a limited amount to spend, casting a secret ballot, having said ballot get counted, and then determining a winner. That is how I got elected as my third grade class representative, and let me tell you folks, the system worked pretty fucking well.

Back in my politico days, each “candidate” was permitted three dollars* (with inflation, probably around 5 of today’s dollar’s – which is a fortune for a third grader) and 2 days to campaign. No mud slinging, name calling, or finger pointing permitted (sadly my “Paula Is Poopie, Pick Me Instead” buttons never got to see a single lapel”). On election day, children were shooed into the auditorium during lunch where they could cast a secret vote for their fave (me, obviously) in makeshift voting booths. Post lunch, votes were tallied by the principal, recounted by the vice principal and then read aloud over the intercom system. No exit polling, pundit predictions or the like permitted.

And let me tell you – us kids were way into it. More so than birthday parties where parents brought in cupcakes (with sprinkles!!!). More so than heads up seven-up on rainy days. Even more than the last day of school. Ok, fine, maybe not the last day of school. But you catch my drift.

Nowadays, even civil minded people can’t be bothered to vote. Probably because voting takes place using absurd, stupid, outdated, laaaaame caucuses in the middle of casinos on the las vegas strip, campaigns last forever, too much money is spent and too much time is wasted. And sometimes, our votes don’t even get counted.

* Funding was provided by my public school, and thus the taxpayers of American. Thanks for that, btw.
In other news, Former Prez Clinton had a hissy fit over questions he was asked regarding the Nevada caucuses court case by a reporter. He accused said reporter of being accusatory. Hah!

PROJECT RUNWAY: A live blogging experiment

PreGame show::

The countdown is on (10 minutes, to be exact)!! The Show of All Shows (aka Project Runway) is about to begin. I am nervous/excited/hungry. I hope that I am not a failure at live blogging – and thereby, life.

In order to enhance the experience, I have decided to introduce a new element in the program which I have deemed “Project Run and Drink”. The rules are that every time Cry Baby Ricky sheds a tear, all participants in Project Run and Drink must run to their liquor cabinet and take a swig of whatever high proof concoction is available.

The Show::

10:00:: The show is starting! Whohooo!

10:01:: Christian does his hair. Ricky-poo cries. Jkjkjk. Almost though!

10:02:: Kit does annoying “yes” thing with her mouth upon hearing the challenge is to be avant-garde. Certain Someone announces that Chris is the “Dark Horse,” showing he knows nothing about anything. Sweat P rudely usurps Christian’s “Fierce” – and sounds decidedly UN-fierce (although it is really is Tyra Banks’ “fierce” I suppose).

10:04:: Ricky-poo announces that he wants to “play” with a girl. Doubtful.

10:05:: Team Challenge!! NOOOOOO!!!!!! Certain Someone called the Chris/Chris combo and is busy basking in his own glory.

10:07:: Designers describing their looks. blah blah blah. Jillian and Victoria are already at it. I predict a girl fight.

10:08:: Priceless Christian Quote #1 – “If I was a diva, my name would be ferosh.” As in ferocious.

10:10:: Certain Someone declares that Rami and Sweet P have the hots for one another. I think I may have to break up with him (see 10:02 and 10:05). Also, my fingers are tired.

10:11:: SHOCKER!!! Rami is draping. Hold onto your seats.

10:12:: Rami talks about his ass. Yes please.

Commercial Break.

10:16:: Show resumes. Sweat P hopes Rami is no longer being a b-i-t-c-h (when did Rami turn into such an asshole, BTW). Ricki poo almost cries.

10:17:: ANOTHER LOOK! The shock, the horror! Designers need to compose a sellable look for their avant-garde look. Ricki poo almost cries. Jillian does her signature “omgomgomg, I am just gonna DIE” thing. I am pretty sure she annoys me. And not in a good way.

10:19:: Rami and Sweet P are the new Jillian and Victoria. Girl fight!!!!

10:20:: Models come in for fitting. Rami continues to…wait for it…drape. One of the models shows off her bon bon. Her bon-bon as it turns out, is better than the dress designed for her.

10:21:: Jillian continues to annoy. She is complaining about not being done and running out of time. I am no longer sad that she lost the candy challenge. Christian and Chris make their model look like a bad gift wrapping job. Awesome Christian Quote #2: “You gotta bring it back from the side – and TURN!” while walking the catwalk like the glorious queen he is.

10:23:: Sweet P is the new Ricki! May need to change the rules of Project Run and Drink to account for this latest twist.

Commercial Break. Note: Watching show is not NEARLY as enjoyable if one has to type like a mad woman at the same time!

10:29:: I am officially in love with Tim G. The way he says “designers AND models.” I just love it. Rami nods his head. Jillian nods her head. Nathaniel the hair guy makes an announcement – winner gets to be in Elle magazine.

10:30:: Tim G. dubs Chris/Chris “Team Fierce!” LOVE IT.

10:31:: Ricky tries to get Tim G. to give him the answers to the test. Tim G. rebuffs his offer.

10:32:: Rami has really become the most annoying Project Runway character of all time. He is completely trying to hoodwink Sweet P and make it look like she is being problematic, when in fact, he has been intolerable the entire time. He needs to get body slammed by Chris.

10:33:: Jillian freaks out about not being done. From now on, when I say “Jillian!” it means “Jillian is complaining about X.”

10:33:: Chris is wearing the most awesome outfit EVER. Animal print! Whohoo. Jillian! Tim G. does interesting hand clap maneuver that made Certain Someone comment. I am not, however, sure what he said because I tuned him out at around 10:11.

10:34:: I am really worried about Team Fierce. Their dresses look like 1) crazy layer makes no sense style and 2) un-hot librarian style. I hate to admit, but I kind of like Rami’s dress. A lot a lot. He is still my PR nemesis though. I only caught a glimpse of what Ricki poo and Kit did, but I am not sure I like it.

Commercial break.

10:41:: Heidi is wearing a dress that is oooogly, but as always, she looks hot. I’d do her. Sweet P appears to be a fan of guest judge Alberta Ferreti.

10:42: Rami’s dress is pretty awesome. I like it. And I also like Sweet P’s dress. Well done. Rami is still a little bitch though. Nina G either wants to vomit on Team Fierce’s dress or she wants to put it on. I can’t really tell. I kind of like the avant garde dress after all because it was just so damn crazy and unique…but I find the ready to wear a little boring – but not ugly.

10:44:: Ricki Poo and Kit – Overall – hated it. I did, however, enjoy the back of the avant garde dress. The rest of it was like bad 80’s prom. The ready to wear was just too blah. Very forever 21.

Victoria and Jillian – Loved the jacket. Love love love love love. The ready to wear was no where as cool as the jacket for the avant garde, but still pretty cute and neat looking.

10:46:: Judges announce that Rami/Sweet P and Ricki Poo/Kit are the lowest score. Rami looks like he may explode. The judges wonder aloud whether Rami will ever do anything in his life but drape. Diet Coke thinks it is unlikely. Sweet P says words that should never ever be spoken: “explosions out of her rear.” Um, I vote no on that.

10:47:: Judges lambaste Ricki/Kit for their monstrosity of a dress. Ferreta says a bunch of words I can’t understand – but I like how they sound just the same. She is probably right.

10:52:: Judges have made their decision. Contestants come back out!!! Ricki poo on the verge of tears.

Commercial Break. I want Rami to get voted off because I think he needs an ego check (in addition to the body check to be delivered by Chris as suggested above) but I think Ricky poo is the more likely “auf”. He has basically consistently sucked. And not in a good way.

10:56::

The winner: CHRISTIAN!!! Who does a frightening little jig upon his return to the rec room.

The Loooooser: Oh shit!! Ricki is in! Sweet P is in! It’s between the Rama-Lama ding dong and Kit.

10:58:: Kit is OUT sauce. I am shocked!! This is totally wrong. I am mad mad mad!

10:59:: Kit almost cries. But then does not. And then says she has “two full suitcases of friends…” Umm.

11:02:: I am done with this. Live blogging is hard work. And so is being as awesome as I am. And yet, I continue.

Next week on PR::

Ricki cries and Jillian! Jillian Jillian!!

Also::

Does anyone else think that Nicki Taylor looks freakishly weird on that model show??

The Universe giveth, and the Universe taketh away. Or something.

::First and Foremost
All is smoothed over the the parental units. Being an only child with parents who are pretty much obsessed with me, it was only a matter of time (especially when you take into account my unrelenting charm). This time it took longer than normal – 18 consecutive waking hours of hostility – but all is good in Familyville once again.

:: Second and Lessmost
I spoke too soon re: having found a new roommate. Turns out Potential Roomie #1 decided to pass on the Diet Coke Estate on the basis that she could not install a dog door. Clearly, a lie. And not even a good one, which means she is not fit to live with anyhow. Like I said before, I hate a lie. But if I must be subjected to one, I prefer it be a good one. Probably, she was intimidated by my unrelenting charm (see above). It is a blessing and a curse. Tonight, I am to meet potential roommate #2. We shall see how this one turns out.

:: PSBF Update #1
Progress has been slow (read: Nacho’s for lunch, and worse for dinner). By some grace of god (or whatever) I lost .5 pounds despite stuffing my face with every cheesy puff that crosses my path. I will take the charity loss, but I really need to buckle down. Clothes. Feel. Tight. Can’t. Breath.

:: Big News
Tomorrow, I am going to attempt to live blog the greatest show of all time – Project Runway. Tune in folks! It will assuredly be funny. Or maybe it won’t. But it will be something.