T and A

You're still here?

2007-09-26T13:28:00.000-07:00

This site is slowly going away, at least my posts on this site are. I'm migrating them all over to my new home and the only way to keep track was to delete them once I got them over there.

Allie's will remain here as long as she wants them to, but mine can now be found at Awkwardly Social except for random posts here and there that I decided to just delete outright. I know you're sad. If you want to only look at the stuff I did while I wrote here the link to the category is this one, but really, everything I wrote before February 2006 would be from here.

I loved this blog and it was a great home, but at a certain point we all just have to pack up our shit and move on, you know?

I hope you last few hold outs who come here are doing well.

More to come

2006-02-08T17:10:00.000-08:00

Hi Everyone!

All good things come to an end. I didn't know it would be quite this abrupt over here at T and A, but that's life in the fast lane.

Most of you remember back in December when I talked about leaving this blog because Allie hadn't been posting in a while and it felt weird for me to write on a site that was named after us. So, back then, I looked around for other options. Typepad seemed like the shiny new thing, the interface looked and felt like a grown-up Mac, and since I had been wanting to shape up the design side of T and A for a long time, but didn't know how, I decided that if I did break up with T and A, I would go over there. So, I signed up, got a little site going, and.....didn't post anything. I was so used to blogger that I just let my free period over there lapse and then, as all good pay for services do, I started getting charged. If I've learned anything in my 30 years on this planet, it's that if you're getting charged for something, you best be using it. (My gym membership for 3 years....) So, I put up a few posts. Then, of course, Allie came back here.

In the interim, I have been training for a marathon, writing a screenplay, trying to improve my life by reading self-help books (gag. I know), working through my 101 in 1001 list and generally wearing myself a bit thin. So when it came time to write over here, I was feeling a bit tapped out. The quality of my writing here suffered for it, and I apologize for that.

The past couple of weeks instead of opening up on this site, I've been blogging quietly at Awkwardly Social. A couple of people knew about it, Louie-because I tell him everything, my sister-ditto and Cats-because I'm always trying to impress her for some reason. I wasn't sure how to make the transition over there, and didn't really think I would do it full time. I actually didn't really think much about the transition at all. Some things, like All about my ass felt more like an Awkwardly Social post, whereas This is why a woman can never be President of the United States felt more like a T and A post. Things were getting fuzzy, because Why we Lie seems sort of like an Awkwardly Social post, but it ended up here, and Mood Music more T and A, but I posted it there. Like I said, I didn't really plan this out, but it didn't feel like such a big deal because... no one was really reading the other blog.

Writing for me has always been an amazing way to get the voices in my head that are in a constant cacaphony - whether they guffaw, whisper, scream, belittle, giggle, encourage, enrage or excite me - out of my head and onto their own little piece of real estate. I'm not as brilliant as I'd like to be, but writing has always given me a way to let 'the smart girl,' or 'the bold girl,' or 'the smart ass girl' and most often 'the bitchy girl' have a place to let it all out. Blogging has given me the added joy (ick, that sounds so super sappy) of hearing what people have to say back to all of those voices. Comments are the best gift any writer can get, I mean that. (Next to chocolate, orgasms and cold hard cash... I guess.) What I'm waxing prophetic about is this: I won't stop blogging, I won't stop writing. Probably not ever.

If you want to join me over at Awkwardly Social, I'd love to have you. I'll be doing more of the same over there, the only real difference will be now you'll get to see me age 8-ish in a cute cowboy hat, with super freckles. Every day! Until I change the picture. My archives will slowly move over there, but they will always remain here.

I'm so fucking fortunate to have met all of you, whether it be in actual real life, or via e-mail or just stalking you through your blogs. You have changed my life and therefore my writing. You are the ice in my vodka tonic. Or the lemon. Or maybe the stirrer. You certainly aren't the vodka... alright? I am definitely the vodka. I'm just trying to say that I love you.

Blog on.

The End of T and A

2006-02-07T13:18:00.000-08:00

it's here....

Don't cry folks, you knew it was coming. Aside from my recent flurry of activity, I really stopped posting over a year ago. Soon I'll be going out of town again for a substantial period of time. And T$ is posting elsewhere, so this site will go dark.

Thanks for giving me a place to write my thoughts for public consumption in 2004 and bits of '05/'06.

signing off,
Allie

Fast Track to SuperCrank

2006-02-06T11:11:00.000-08:00

My Gaaaaah! I am soooo cranky today. Voicemail at work is not functioning this morning so I can't get my messages from the weekend. There's someone in my office who is the LOUDEST LOUD TALKER I've heard. EVER. The telephone has a microphone in the handset. Really. You don't need to scream into it.

You know what else cranks me out? The fact that dude from a few months ago resurrected himself this weekend. dude. the ship has sailed. I told you to make your move before I left town in November. you didn't. you lose.

Wow. I AM cranky.

btw - hot date was great, but it was 4 days ago so it can't help my mood now. Perhaps T$'s uterus is to blame for all this crank....

Aw hell,

2006-02-01T17:02:00.000-08:00

it's only 5:00pm....

I'm such a girl

2006-02-01T11:01:00.000-08:00

Can't concentrate at work today. At. All. That's because there's a fine young gentleman who will be cooking dinner for me tonight. It's 11:02a. Can't it be 7:00p already??? dammmmmit!

I have nothing more to say today. Don't expect me to be productive, witty, charming or a loyal employee when all I can think about is my hot date.

The text message I got just now

2006-01-31T16:43:00.000-08:00

So, I'm in the middle of a meeting - a pow wow session, you could say - and my phone makes this familiar sound: beep BEep BEEP. There are six other people in the room at the time so Professional Allie says "Just ignore it. Do not look at that text. Do not even pull your phone out of your bag." But non-Professional Allie has a quick battle of wills with Professional Allie and wins. I get this text from my friend in the ATL:

I work with a guy. His name is hardik. He he.

Yeah. She's 31. And I burst into titters in the middle of the meeting.

I especially like #10

2006-01-31T14:21:00.000-08:00

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Allie!

Over 46,000 pieces of Allie float on every square mile of ocean!
US gold coins used to say 'In Allie we trust'!
By tradition, a girl standing under Allie cannot refuse to be kissed by anyone who claims the privilege!
Allie will always turn right when leaving a cave.
The smelly fluid secreted by skunks is colloquially known as Allie.
The most dangerous form of Allie is the bicycle.
All shrimp are born as Allie, but gradually mature into females.
You can tell if Allie has been hard-boiled by spinning her. If she stands up, she is hard-boiled!
If you break Allie, you will get seven years of bad luck.
Grapes explode if you put them inside Allie.

Shut Up!

2006-01-30T14:07:00.000-08:00

At some point during the Big Clean on Saturday, T$ and I started shouting at each other. Because it's funny. It went something like this:
A: Can you grab that trash bag?
T: Shut Up.
A: You Shut Up!
T: No, You Shut Up!
(at this point we're outside the apartment and on the street)
A: Shut Up. I Hate You.
T: I HATE YOU!
A: Well, MOVE OUT then!!!
(giggle....giggle...)
T: SHUT UP!

Our neighbors must think we're insane and/or 14 years old.

Curse you fried shrimp!

2006-01-27T10:02:00.000-08:00

So I took a week and a half off from Boob Camp. So what. The trainer shouldn't have taken it so personally. She smiled a little bit when I heaved (but didn't hurl) after the lunge/jump/squat/sprint circuit.

The Big Clean is coming! Starting......NOW. I'm going to clean like the wind. Clean like I've never cleaned before. And this time, I'm not going to let T$ talk me into throwing away all the dishes. actually, I think that was my idea but I like blaming T$ for little things.

The Lou is afraid of his Colon

2006-01-26T12:07:00.000-08:00

Has anyone done the Master Cleanse?

T & A are the resident hypochondriacs

2006-01-26T09:58:00.000-08:00

Great. Thanks Andre. You ruined Zicam (and many other drugs) for me for good. When I followed the link from your comment, I was introduced to an entire world of potential paranoia. Just take a look:

Vioxx Lawsuit Settlement
Bextra Side Effects
Birth Control Patch Scare
Crestor Side Effects
Guidant Defibrillator Recall
Guidant Recall
Los Angeles Personal Injury Lawyer
Ortho Evra Risk
Ortho Evra Side Effects
Viagra Blindness
Zyprexa Side Effects

So, birth control = bad and viagra = bad. I just think Andre doesn't want anyone to have sex.

Calling all MerryMaids:

2006-01-25T10:20:00.000-08:00

Is MerryMaids an East Coast thing? Because I don't care what you call yourself, really, but my apartment is at address deleted to save T$ from all of her stalkers and it sure could use your help. Bring the vacuum, dust rag, and industrial-sized trash bin. Bring a dumpster actually. And burn all my clothes. You know, the ones that are still sitting in the suitcase in the livingroom. And the ones that were put in a big pile in the closet. shit. half that stuff probably won't fit anymore. because I'm sure I haven't seen some of it since film school. and I was scary-skinny for part of film school. because of the vending-machine diet. mmmm...twix and a coke.....

Happy Belated Birthday T$ or Why I'm a Dickhead....

2006-01-23T14:20:00.000-08:00

Yeah! T$'s birthday! Too bad I remembered late in the day on the 21st that her birthday was the 20th.

Dear T$,
I am sorry that I did not call you to say Happy Birthday. There is no excuse. I just forgot. We were filming interviews in the morning and then drove from South Padre to Austin that night. At no time did my brain remember that:
1) it was Friday
2) that the 20th was the date of your birth
3) there is no number three
I hope you had a blast in Las Vegas and that you can forgive your brain-dead ass of a roommate.
love,
Allie

Things I didn’t do this weekend:

2006-01-16T10:18:00.000-08:00

1. Laundry
2. Grocery Shopping
3. Clean room
4. Clean Living Room
5. Unpack suitcases from Xmas break
6. Clean off desk so that I can see computer
7. Open mail
8. Call Parents
9. Call Friends

New Leaf, Turning

2006-01-10T16:49:00.000-08:00

Second day of Boob Camp. That's what I'm calling it from now on 'cause I'm sure that's what we look like from the street - a bunch of boobs jumping up and down in formation. This time my "core" hurts. It's not Abs these days, it's your Core. And my core is fat.

I have to get my core in shape for Spring Break Whoo!. Spring Break Whoo! was not the original reason for Boob Camp, but it has provided the additional motivation to roll me out of bed and sweat before work. Now core and sweat look like they're spelled wrong.

I bought $70 worth of fresh veggies last night. They'll probably rot in the fridge alongside the oranges. Perhaps T$ can lose an artichoke down her shirt next time.

Happy Tuesday.

Hey T-Money.....

2006-01-09T12:19:00.000-08:00

What disease would I have if I slept a ton this weekend but still feel dog-ass tired today? Don't tell me I'm pregnant because you know that's not true.

Prescribe me a cure Dr. Money 'cause I'm getting nothin' done at work today!

um......hi

2006-01-05T18:54:00.000-08:00

I know that many of you don't remember me, but I'm T$'s long lost roommate. roomate, rommate, rooooommmmmate, room mate, eh...it all looks weird. T$ asked me when I'd start blogging again. My answer was pretty much...never. BUT - since the time for life-changing bets with ourselves is upon us, I can add blogging occasionally to my list of things I will try really hard to do in the New Year. So far, I've completed a number of pressing items - like paying the gas and electric bills. actually T$ paid them - I just found the bills, posted them on the cork board and left her a blank check. Then, I negotiated lower interest rates on my evil credit cards. Then, and this is big I actually renewed my registration. On time. Sorta. It expired in December, but I was out of town so I went to the DMV the day I got back to LA. Did I mention that this is HUGE?!? Most years I spend January-June making righthand turns whenever a cop gets behind me. or passes me or is anywhere within sight. That shit is stressful. Next up: stop the arse-jiggling. something called "Boot Camp" starts tomorrow - 2 days a week for 6 weeks - I'm scared.

Happy 2006!

Dear Friends,

2005-07-11T15:44:00.000-07:00

I am back. Have been for a week but have been keeping to myself a bit. I do want to take the time to thank you all for the well-wishes and prayers for my family. Mom made it through the surgery okay. There were a couple of things I wanted to blog about, but something didn’t seem quite right about it at the time. Hopefully, we’ll all look back and laugh about it later.

Light-hearted blogging to come. I promise.

laptops are a back-breaker

2005-06-27T17:07:00.000-07:00

My flight was delayed for about an hour last night in LAX. That was after the United Airlines clerk screamed at all of us in the self check-in line for being morons. Soothed by the greasy goodness of McDonald's french fries straight from the bag, I sat down on the filthy terminal carpet and pulled out the laptop I took with me so I don't lose my job this week. Holy Jesus, is that a pain in the neck. After mere minutes, my neck was stiff, my shoulders were in spasms, my hunt-and-peck middle fingers were locked up all splayed. Thank God the battery ran down after only 30 minutes.

Just trying to board the plane, an elderly Japanese lady tried to run a couple of people down with her cane. She ended up being seated in my row, and I really tried to give her my aisle seat, but she didn't understand a word I said. I swear it took her 20 minutes to shuffle down to her window seat. Moments later, a young kid took his spot between us and proceeded to fart throughout the entire 4 hour flight.

It's hard to sleep in that kind of environment, so when the flight touched down in Orlando at 7am, my only thoughts were of crawling into the guest bed in my parent's house. When my bags came out first - literally the first one out! - and the shuttle that takes me to the retirement village where my folks live was right outside waiting for me, I thought maybe my day was looking up. That was until I noticed the semen that was hanging from the handle of my suitcase. The suitcase I just carried from baggage claim. Okay, chances are it was somebody's lotion or conditioner that exploded all over during the flight. But I had to resist the urge to put my fingers in my mouth. Or touch my face. Or smell my fingers.

It's raining here. And it just got dark. Papa Bear told all kinds of stories from his army days as we ate homemade pork cutlets. Bless her heart, my mother cooked a full meal for me and my dad even though she's only allowed to have clear broth the entire day. We have to check into the hospital at 7 tomorrow morning. Mama Bear is anxious. The phone's been ringing off the hook with well-wishers. You know the "our neighbors from Jersey, who lived in the red house on Willow Way, had two sons - Johnny and Eddie - who you used to play tug-of-war with at the lake" kind of well-wishers. I have no recollection of Johnny nor Eddie, but I'm glad their folks called to wish my mom well.

For Mom

2005-06-23T20:38:00.000-07:00

For a long while now, I’ve been hesitant to blog about all the crazy shit that’s been going on because, well, who wants to be a downer? I mean, this blog is usually one big stand-up routine, and lately, T$ and her uterus have been the headliners. I’ve been the slut in the corner wearing too much makeup cackling at all the jokes.

Well, today I found myself cackling over a not-so-funny subject, but it felt really good to laugh about it. Cancer. That’s right. Not so funny. My dad has it. My mom just found out she has it. And, by the way I’ve been sucking on the end of the Camel Lights lately, I’m surely on my way to getting it. In a year where cancer has brought me to tears almost as much as an insensitive ex-boyfriend, today I laughed at it.

The giggles crept into my throat as Mama Bear shared the details of her latest catscan. We laughed because she apparently has an extra spleen. Spleen? Who the fuck knows what the first spleen does, let alone the extra one. Also, she may have a touch of the osteoporosis. No shit Ma. You’re sixty-five years old for God’s sake! I didn’t think she’d appreciate the cursing and the Lord in the same breath, being Catholic and all, but she laughed. And when she laughed, I smiled. Because she hasn’t sounded like herself lately, and that scared me.

But now she was laughing...so I kept going. The gall stones. The hint of emphysema. What the fuck is a “hint” of emphysema? The woman never smoked a day in her life and still gets stuck with a hint of emphysema. I felt a little guilty about all the Camel Lights. All in all, the results were good news. Cancer has not spread throughout the rest of her body. Surgery is scheduled for Tuesday morning, and I’m going to be right there, holding her hand, trying to make her laugh. Who needs all that colon in there for fuck’s sake. Get that shit out and get better already.

I love you Ma.

I have a confession...

2005-06-20T11:44:00.000-07:00

It’s something I’ve struggled with ever since grade school when Sr. Francis Claire yelled at me for running in the hallway and I immediately burst into tears: I have an irrational fear of authority. It’s true. Because of this, I cannot tell you any of the details of my weekend for fear that the five-oh would promptly bust down my door and haul me away in cuffs. Then, I’d have to use my one call to wake up Waller so that he could post my bail thereby avoiding causing more undue stress to the parental unit who are way across the country and have more important things to do with their money now than busting me out of jail. All I will say is that sometimes a friend can surprise you in the most wonderful ways.

sometimes my job makes me want to poke my eyes out with a spoon

2005-06-17T14:53:00.000-07:00

Yes, we can pay for your flights. Wow, it’ll be 7 thousand dollars. Maybe we cannot pay for your flights. What do you have in your budget? Maybe we can split it with you. Boy, we didn’t expect it to be so expensive. Could you come in September? No? How much can you pitch in? Nothing? Okay. Yes, we can pay for your flights.

did you feel that one?

2005-06-16T13:58:00.000-07:00

heh. earthquake at work. someone screamed. I held my computer for some reason.

Oi, my head hurts

2005-06-16T10:40:00.000-07:00

Hey Louie, is that how you spell Oi…Oye…Oy? My ancestors only taught me how to spell beer and whiskey. Anyway, last evening was one of those adult entertainment evenings you always figured you’d have eventually when you got older. No, I’m not talking about strippers and porn. I mean good food, good wine, good friends. It was like something out of The Big Chill – the scent from the kitchen smacked me in the face as soon as I walked in the door. Seconds later, two very friendly Dalmatians pounced on me and the night had begun. There must have been hundreds of candles inside and out. Dozens of bottles of wine were poured. There were mussels, papadon, curry chicken, potatoes. Salad was served after the mail course. Then, fruit tart. More wine and quiet backyard conversation accented by the evening’s soundtrack spilling through the French doors out onto the patio. But my head hurts today. Oy.

will this day ever end?

2005-06-13T17:13:00.000-07:00

a romantic weekend

2005-06-13T11:45:00.000-07:00

Went to dinner with T$ and the Louie on Saturday night. Ditto for Sunday night, then the Machinist movie at home.

Currently taking bets for the best-guess of the exact date when Louie will break and sign my ass up for match.com so that he can finally be alone with his girlfriend again. My money’s on July 10th.

All the Special K Red Berries you can handle!

2005-06-10T10:03:00.000-07:00

I just found the hidden breakfast stash in the kitchen. World: Changed.

putting it out there

2005-06-10T09:54:00.000-07:00

You can pretty much get anything you want if you just ask for it. It took me thirty years, six months, twenty nine days and fifty one minutes to figure this one out.

Awaiting some news this afternoon concerning mama-bear. It’s hard to concentrate on the Druids when you’re afraid your world is going to be rocked any second now.

I love New Yorkers. I really do.

I’m sorry T$, but my stock in the British has gone down a little bit. Hopefully that will soon change.

Now, back to work…..

ROCKO IS OFF THE MARKET

2005-05-30T14:56:00.000-07:00

So, it was a weddilicious weekend. On Friday, we kicked off the festivities with Rocko's bachelor party. Nobody took off their clothes. T$ and I couldn't drag a group of men to Nudes Nudes Nudes - what is this world coming to?!? Rocko and I performed a fierce Sweet Child of Mine. T$ and I sang an excruciatingly long Total Eclipse of the Heart. In the immortal words of Randy Jackson, "It was a little pitchy." Actually, I do believe we just screamed our way through it. Some dude at the bar tried to pick me up with the line, "Black is your color, beautiful." Now THAT is even worse than last weekend's lines. T$ shouted, "Is he saying you're fat?"
Saturday was the mall trip from hell. We will never speak of Saturday again.
Sunday: On the car ride to the reception (after a beautiful outdoor ceremony during which Rocko snorted....chortled is more like it) I had to remind T$ of a conversation we all had on Friday night. She couldn't remember any of the details and replied totally deadpan, "I drink." And so, a new catchphrase is born.....

seriously, will this week ever end?

2005-05-26T20:45:00.000-07:00

Nick and Jessica's Tour of Duty

2005-05-24T11:18:00.000-07:00

You KNOW you watched it too. There were so many things I loved about this show. A few highlights:
1. Jessica singing "Aaaa Eh Aeiiiiaaaa" (the all-vowel version of God Bless America)
2. Nick screaming like a little girl when he takes a ride in the fighter jet.
3. N & J pretending they still like each other, even when Nick sings his new song that's all about breaking up with his wife.
4. Jessica singing "These Boobs are Made for Walking" (duet with Willie Nelson). She takes a stab at singing consonants this time - just the wrong ones. I don't know how Willie could have kept a straight face.

my 4th grade boyfriend is a meathead

2005-05-20T09:47:00.000-07:00

Really. My sister just emailed me a picture, and his neck is as thick as my waist. That's okay, he was my first boyfriend ever and parted with these words, "Why did you cut your hair? I liked it long."

He didn't set the bar high.

britney spears made me sick

2005-05-17T22:11:00.000-07:00

I don't even know what to say about that. seriously.

I got nothing.

speechless. I may vomit now.

monday night tv

2005-05-17T10:38:00.000-07:00

Last night's Bachelor finale was tough.

So tough. Man, I was not looking forward to this. It's tough, you know? Breaking up with one of the two girls I've been dating is gonna be tough. This is tough. So tough.

Shut the fuck up already Charlie.

BTW - Did anyone see my ex-boyfriend on Leno last night? He's much cooler in person. I swear.

worst pick up lines ever

2005-05-16T14:16:00.000-07:00

Friday night, pool hall
My pool cue in hand, waiting for my turn, I notice the approach from across the room.

Boy: "I just bought you girls a round of drinks."
Me (to myself): Do you want me to take off my shirt now, or later?
Me (out loud): "Umm..thanks?"
Boy: "How old are you?"
Me (to myself) Strike Two
Me (out loud): "You've got to be kidding."
Boy: "Let me guess....23?"
Me: "Not quite."

It took hours to shake this smooth talker - partly because I hate to be rude, partly because I felt guilty about the round of drinks. Needless to say, I chose to stay in the rest of the weekend.

donde?

2005-05-03T22:43:00.000-07:00

Items you will not find in a Carniceria:
A Mother's Day card in English
Brie

Items you will find:
A surprisingly thorough array of Boone's Farm
Meat
Shoes, conveniently located next to the canned meat

Things I am currently obsessed with....

2005-05-03T19:57:00.000-07:00

Spontaneous Human Combustion
The Lost City of Atlantis
German Penguins that are (reportedly) Gay
Sacred Geometry

Thanks, New Job. Thanks for making me crazier than I already am.

Yee Haw and a Return to the Real World

2005-05-02T19:29:00.000-07:00

My 3 decade year old body is aching. It all started with a last-minute road trip to Etna CA for the rodeo. I had never been to a rodeo before, so how could I pass up the opportunity to wear the cowboy hat I purchased in Texas on my way across the country last November? I learned a few new words:
1. Mutton Busting - this is when kids as young as three years old grab onto the back of a sheep and ride him until they are bucked off into the dirt. These kids have balls.
2. Saddle Cow - here's where an adult puts a saddle on a cow, rides it until bucked off, and then he and a partner must grab the saddle off the cow and run it back into the shoot.
3. Rescue Ride - one person riding bareback must ride up to a partner standing at the other end of the arena. The rider must then hoist the partner onto the back of the horse and both ride bareback to the other end of the arena. This looked painful for everyone's back.
4. Team Rope - one guy on horseback must rope the horns of a calf while the other guy on horseback must rope the hind legs of the same calf. WHILE CALF IS RUNNING. How the hell they did it, I don't know.

Of course, there were Bull Riders. Only 1 out of 14 bull riders stayed on for 8 seconds. He got a score of 74. I heard all about the only perfect score (100) in bull riding, and somebody I met up there in Etna is sending me footage of it so I can see what a perfect ride looks like. My favorite event was the Wild Bronc Riding. This event was done first with a saddle and then bareback. The riders had to keep their legs above the horse's shoulders when they left the shoot, so three limbs are a-flying the entire time.

I was definitely born in the wrong part of the country or the wrong era. I loved the entire scene. Add some fine cowboys, a town dance, a parade, and three nights of hard-core drinking and darts and it added up to a good ol' time! The only suck-ass part was arriving home at 5am this morning only to have to report to my first day at the new job at 9am. Sleep now......

I want my MTV

2005-04-28T12:53:00.000-07:00

Where the hell did it go? It's usually channel 331. Nothing. Check the billion-channel guide. Nothing. What happened? I'm not sure I want to live in a world without MTV!!! It's been my companion for the last 23 and two-thirds years. God. Has it been that long? Video killed the radio star. Take on me. Janet Jackson's first midriff-baring video. You know, the black and white one. I like big butts and I cannot lie. C'mon. Why have you left me, old friend?
T$ - I was a sophomore in HS when the Wall fell. Don't remember the exact details. But I do remember being in the 6th grade when the Challenger broke apart after launch. The principal came in and announced the news to the class. We all had to go down to the Social Studies classroom to watch the reports on TV, since there were only 2 TVs in our entire school. I also remember looking at the cover of TIME magazine while lying on my stomach in front of the TV in early 1981 when Ronald Reagan was on the cover. He was called "Man of the Year" and I was wondering, "What makes him so great?" Then again, I was only 6.

Bye Bye Vacatiern

2005-04-27T16:35:00.000-07:00

Job starts on Monday. Yay.

New Job = New Things to Do:
1. Stop wearing jeans every day....or not.
2. Pay T-Mobile before they turn off my phone.
3. Actual shower. In the actual morning.
4. Go to happy hour without feeling the guilt of not coming straight from work.
5. Stop harassing my friends who ARE at work with text messages that read "tits" (umm..sorry Bull)

back on the west coast

2005-04-27T10:11:00.000-07:00

Just got back from a week long trip to Florida, and I was greeted in the familiar LA style. Wolf whistles from a passing truck. Seriously? All it made me do is wish I hadn't worn a tank top on my walk down to the Sev.

Florida was great. I saw my folks. We played bocce. Saw the sun set over the lake. Ate 4.5 meals a day. Drank gallons of milk. Answered a ton of embarrassing questions about my personal life. Whenever I visit my parents at their retirement village, I usually get carded when purchasing lottery tickets. Apparently 30 can be mistaken for 17 if the clerk is over 65. Some man asked my dad if I was his granddaughter. When I told him I was 30, he asked why I wasn't married with kids already. I bet my parents wonder the same thing. Odds are they have a sneaking suspicion that T$ and I are life partners. I sat next to this woman from Sacramento on the plane, and we chatted the entire 5 hour flight home. She asked for my number, so I guess I could be good at it if I ever decided to switch teams. eh.

The Vegas recap aka How loving Barry Manilow almost killed me

2005-04-17T16:03:00.000-07:00

Where to start? With the Hottie McHot young Airforce buck sitting next to me on the plane who thought I was 25? Bless his heart. Or the drinking at poolside beginning at 10am? Or possibly when 2 of my friends quite nearly got arrested when they asked an undercover cop where to find a hooker so that they could score some drugs?

aaah Vegas.....We ate in some fancy restaurants. Rode in a limo. Got escourted right into the Ghostbar even though the line was 3 hours long. The first night, we dressed all fancy girl-like and went to see Cirque Du Soleil's "O" at the Bellagio. It. Was. Just. Beautiful. Made me want to take a yoga class. But wait. The piece de resistance.......Barry Manilow at the Las Vegas Hilton. That's right. Music and Passion. Let me tell you, his live performance of "Mandy" seriously made me cry. It started with a video screen on which was projected a 70's version of himself behind a piano singing the song. Then the real live Barry himself rolled out on stage behind a white piano singing along. So young Barry and old Barry were essentially doing a "Mandy" duet. Stunning. Here comes the part where I almost met my demise. Later in the show, Barry comes right out over the audience on a catwalk, and you start to hear some familiar percussion. Dun dunka dun dun dun dunka dun. Bam bam bamm bamm bamm bam bam bam bam bam......"Her name was Lola....." The crowd went WILD. Everyone was on their feet shaking their asses holding up green glow sticks. It was like a drug-induced rave. We were seated 1st row balcony so Barry was just a few feet from us on the catwalk. It was then that I noticed it. The shaking. I was dancing myself, so it took a beat to sink in but the balcony was most definitely moving. Not just a little bit. My friend next to me noticed as well. "Is this balcony shaking?" "Oh shit. You feel it too?" Then I saw all the stage lights which hung on the outside of the balcony chattering under the force of a few hundred rabid Barry Manilow fans jumping to the music. I could picture the headlines. My poor parents who would have to read about my death by collapsing balcony and crushing by middle aged Manilow fans. Oh the horror. I actually plotted an escape route that included hurdling a half wall and scaling the inside of the auditorium. Thankfully it didn't come to that, and I arrived safely home in LA a little tired, a bit hung over, but not much worse for wear.

wait....

2005-04-16T19:27:00.000-07:00

I go out of town for 3 days, and I miss the announcement that Britney is pregnant! Dammmit.

Coming soon.....the Vegas recap.

etc....

2005-04-12T13:24:00.000-07:00

So, we have a new downstairs neighbor. I will no longer look forward to Saturday morning "Freebird" serenades. But the clanging. And the clunking. And the slamming of windows. My goodness. Day 1: It's moving day. Clank away. Day 2: The rearranging, the cleaning. okay. Day 3: Boy, you're a neat one. fine. Day 4: For the love of all that is good and holy, are you scraping off your ceiling?!? I've taken to blasting Damien Rice on repeat. It soothes me.

I've filled the apartment with the cooties. It's funny how I always come down with a head cold right before/after a vacatiern. The audio gods want to test me by stuffing me up right before I have to step on a plane. I think I have lost some hearing that way, but then again, I am a hypochondriac.

cry for help blogging

2005-04-09T09:51:00.000-07:00

...that's what Waller would call it. Would somebody out there host my intervention? I promise not to get too outraged. I need to get off the sauce.

scale of intoxication

2005-04-07T11:23:00.000-07:00

2 plastic cups of white wine: "Hey, that guy over there looks just like Brian Austin Green."
1/2 sour apple martini: "Dude. That IS Brian Austin Green."
1 sour apple martini: "Excuse me, Brian Austin Green, as I squeeze past you to get to the bathroom."
2 sour apple martinis: "Who is that dashing young man in the crisp white shirt? Oh. It's Brian Austin Green."
3 sour apple martinis: "I'm TOTALLY going to makeout with Brian Austin Green!"
4 sour apple martinis: "My mom's gonna love Brian Austin Green."

blog of the devil

2005-04-05T10:15:00.000-07:00

It must be true. The 666 is still there.

Is it just me, or do large white vans in the neighborhood equal panic attacks for everyone? I was sitting here minding my own business when I distinctly heard a large white van pull up in front of the apartment. I'm serious. I knew it had to be big and white by the sound of it. Years ago, that kind of aural cue would have elicited a "Yeah! Package!" response, but nowadays it gets a "Oh dear god no. Don't take away my phone. Cable! I NEED cable! And gas! T$ would flip a shit if the gas got turned off and she was forced to take a cold shower."

In other news, Michael Chiklis made a left turn onto Prospect in his silver mercedes. T$ and I both said, "Michael Chiklis" at the same time. ZAP! dude....you know who cannot speak until I say her name out loud.....I bet work will be difficult today....

oy

2005-04-03T13:58:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning with a few questions:

What time is it?
Why is my downstairs neighbor blasting "Freebird"?
Did I really stop at Denny's at 3 am and eat onion rings, mini burgers and a vanilla milkshake?
Why did I think that champagne was a good idea?
Why didn't I put a glass of water next to my bed last night?
Is that still "Freebird"?
Did I change my clock already or is it an hour behind?
Who did I drunk dial last night?
Did we really cruise around koreatown with the top down singing MC Hammer?
What time is it, really?
Why do my calves hurt?
Does this guy have "Freebird" on repeat?

sometimes this city finds a way to make me love it

2005-03-29T11:18:00.000-08:00

Last night. 9pm. MP's living room. "You want to go listen to some blues?" I was wearing my official unemployment uniform: jeans, tank, sandals, pleather jacket, ponytail, not a stitch of makeup. Lyle Lovett was crooning on the stereo. "Hmm....live?" "Yeah. It's like an open mic night. People just get up and play together on stage." "I'm in......I'll give you 10 bucks to get up there and sing." "No deal."
So there we are in MP's Jeep cruising down the 10 Fwy blasting the country and singing along. She exits and heads south. south. south. "My god woman! Haven't you seen Boyz 'N the Hood?!?" We parked on Crenshaw and 43rd. The country music was still blaring when she cut the engine.
After walking around the block looking up at all the numbers on the buildings, we finally find our destination. Music spills out onto the street. We step inside a small dark room - there's a blue spangled curtain in the corner marking the stage. Round tables. Hushed voices. A red candle on each of the tables illuminates faces in the crowd. They offer white zinfandel in a tiny bottle - an individual serving of wine - I order two.
First of all, I must say the music is amazing. I cannot believe that this is open mic. Musicians step up on stage, shake each other's hands, call out a key and just play. After about 20 minutes, an entirely new set of strangers takes the stage and they make it up as they go along. drum. bass. lead guitar. sax. harmonica. mandolin. the vocalists are amazing.
Soon, an elderly couple stands and the entire first row of tables is moved back to allow room for them to dance. They are hunched over, barely able to shake their hips, but they have a practiced routine. From the looks of it, these two have been dancing together for at least 50 years. His hands are shaking, but he holds her as tight as he can. It is so beautiful.
Then all of a sudden, the house lights go on and MP is snatched up from her chair and pushed over to a long table in the corner. I didn't know what was happening as it seemed like the entire room stood up and ran over to that corner at the same time. When I caught a glimpse of MP, she was laughing with the sax player and carrying a big ol' plate of something. My god, food! I shit you not. Everybody in the whole damn place got in line for a family style meal at 11:30pm. For FREE. Well, there was an $8 cover at the door, but I assumed that was for the live blues.
green beans. collard greens. blackeyed peas. potato salad. fried cornbread. bbq sausage and fried chicken. I tried to just get some cornbread and potato salad, but a large man grabbed my plate from me. He pointed to the blackeyed peas. I shook my head. He sort of pushed me into the peas. I muttered, "Yes, sir." He smiled. By the time I sat down, I had blackeyed peas, collard greens, potato salad, cornbread and a piece of fried chicken on my plate. Damn, those peas were good. seriously.
After the meal is done and the lights go back down, there is an introduction from the stage. "Everybody put your hands together for Miss Mickey!" The crowd goes wild. She must be a regular. The music starts. I see no Miss Mickey. After a few bars, this voice comes booming out from behind the bar. Miss Mickey is about 85 years old. She is a short stocky woman wearing an oversized red sweatshirt with the word FLIRT embroidered on it. She has two teeth and one powerful set of lungs. This woman needs no microphone. And she is unbelievably talented. The kind of blues vocals that makes you want to close your eyes and hum along. Her version of "At Last" was stunning. Miss Mickey has one of the best singing voices I have heard in a very long time. I asked a regular at the next table about her. She gave me her full name so I looked her up when I got home - "...discovered in Los Angeles by the great bandleader Johnny Otis and went on to work with such performers as T-Bone Walker, Little Esther Phillips, Roy Milton, Billy Holliday, and many more." My god. The owner of the club shook each and every one of our hands as we exited. The man who force-fed me blackeyed peas called out to us, "Y'all come back now. We'll look for you next time."

Sometimes this city finds a way to make me love it. It's true. I love LA today.

Let the Meat Tour begin

2005-03-26T15:32:00.000-08:00

Ever since T$ opted out of the vegetarian lifestyle, we've had a few key meat-loving experiences on our list of things to do. Last night at 2:30 in the morning, we finally crossed one off the list. If you live in Los Angeles, you MUST go to PINK's. At least once.
I don't know how the subject of hot dogs actually came up. JH, T$ and I were sitting around a table in the little attic room at the Red Lion. A raucous crowd was singing in the corner. In German. Or Swedish. We don't know, but the whole experience reminded T$ of being in an Eastern European youth hostel. For a moment, we pretended we were on holiday in Prague. Then our minds turned to sausage. And to a late night visit to PINK's. "You mean you haven't been there?" T$ and I had not. I've been living here for over eight years, seven of which on the east side - no PINK's. I blame part of this on the fact that I had an out-of-body experience for most of my early twenties that resulted in my being a hermit for many years and part of the blame lies with the Del Taco on Los Feliz Blvd that is just so damned convenient and has a 24 hour drive-thru.
My god, the line. We roll up to the best little hot dog stand on La Brea. And. The. Line. Is. Enormous. There are stanchions and chains - like we're waiting to get on Space Mountain or something. The upside to that long of a line is the time you get to stare at the menu. Two hot dogs wrapped in a burrito with bacon, pastrami, swiss cheese, tomatoes and sauerkraut. My god. The choices. I settle on "The Mulholland Drive" - 10 inch hot dog with grilled onions, mushrooms, nacho cheese and bacon. You have to take this shit seriously if you're going to PINK's. T$ chooses "The Martha Stewart" - 10 inch hot dog with mustard, relish, sauerkraut, bacon and sour cream. Hold the tomatoes. All we keep hearing is, "Ten inches! That's huge."
We order a side of cheese fries as well.
Wow. The sight of those dogs and their toppings made my mouth water. I was immediately jealous of T$'s selection, but she let me take a bite. Man. Both concoctions were goooooood. Oh, we will go back. And wait in that line. And order the 10-inchers again. I may get "The Martha Stewart" next time. With a side of cheese fries.

To My Beloved DSL,

2005-03-23T15:17:00.000-08:00

Where have you gone? Please come back to me. I've been waiting...umm...two days for dial up to download the software I need to make Final Cut Pro work. I have a job to do. Yes. We will quite possibly make rent this month. That is, if the godforsaken QuickTime update ever finishes downloading in time for me to meet my deadline.
In your absence, oh sweet DSL, I have broken the coffee maker and spilled cheese on the living room rug. Had you been here all along, I bet you I'd be done with my work by now and we'd be well on our way to getting hammered up the street. But alas, the backslide into a tumultuous relationship with my ex-boyfriend dial up has begun......I hope you're happy.

P.S. - I'll still dream about you when I'm sleeping.

An Afternoon in Los Feliz

2005-03-21T17:01:00.000-08:00

Dear Guy who works at the Gas Company office on Hillhurst:
Why are you so pleasant? Every time I visit you (which is A LOT since I have a prejudice against stamps and you guys have a prejudice against my bank), you have a big ol' smile on your face. You make being delinquent fun again.

Dear Guy in the white pick-up truck in front of me:
Stop looking at the underage girls in miniskirts outside the high school and just DRIVE. They are not interested - you've got at least 20 years on them.

Dear Traffic Light at St George and Griffith Park:
I fucking hate you. Why did you have to steal the four-way-stop's thunder?

Porn. Porn. Porn.

2005-03-19T02:12:00.000-08:00

Oh.

My.

God.

I just got back from a bar in hollywood. Let me just tell you - nineteen twenties porn. I shit you not. Everyone was dressed in their best 1920s costume - which I can appreciate - I wore a vintage flapper dress to my prom in 1992 - but seriously, I was not prepared for what was displayed on all walls of this tiny bar. PORN. 1920s style. Seriously. BLOW JOBS. Men in knickers getting blowjobs. And let me tell you, no one knew what a razor was for.......I will never be the same. I will certainly go back.

UPDATE - SATURDAY MORNING
Wow. My drunken rant last night doesn't do it justice. Let me explain....
So I walk into this tiny little hole in the wall pub on Santa Monica Blvd. Immediately, I like this place. The sound of a player piano. The bartender's wearing a wife-beater, pinstriped pants and suspenders. Girls are frolicking on the dance floor with large feathers or other hats on their heads. Everyone's doing the Charleston. I order an overpriced margarita and choke it down. I should not have ordered a drink at all since the couple I already had at the Drawing Room were effective enough. I look around at the crowd. It's then that I notice. There are movie screens on the walls. But each screen is showing the same film. Clearly not projected 8mm or 16mm film, but it looks like an old movie. Hmmm. Then, the pants come off. I never knew there was porn in the 20s. Tamara said she'd do a little research. For the rest of the evening, it was hard to concentrate on a conversation, what with all the jiggling asses and stuff on the walls. Right about the time I felt like I was going to throw up my Benito's fish taco, we went home.

Look! My Eyes are Smiling! Really!

2005-03-17T13:49:00.000-08:00

It's St. Patrick's Day!!!! Why am I not drunk?

I am wearing a green shirt, but that's purely coincidental. My celebration of the day that somehow validates my freckles and pure-as-the-driven-snow complexion has waned over the years. If this were 1994, I'd be sucking on the end of a four foot tall glass vial filled with green beer. Walking around with a green beer moustache into the wee hours of the morning. Doing shots of Jagermeister because that's close enough to Irish, right?

Alas, I'm sipping Starbucks coffee in front of my computer. My, how the mighty have fallen.

UPDATE -
Why is blogger so slow today? In the immortal words of someoneT$ knows, "It makes me want to KILL myself!" Also, what is the 666 number next to our blogsite? I thought it was the number of posts, but it hasn't changed in weeks. Could we be the blog of the devil? That would be just perfect.

Hey! It's Waller's (actual) Birthday!

2005-03-15T17:06:00.000-08:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WALLER

I want to personally thank you for calling me your "forty year old friend" for all of these years. In the attempt to make me feel like an old maid, you forgot that you are only...let's see...4 months and 4 days younger than me. I do not know how you kept that under wraps for such a long time. I met you in...what.. early 2000? I was a mere 25 and you were...um....24 and 10 months. But it wasn't me who was pointing and laughing at every single one of our new classmates at grad school, was it? No, that was you. I wish I remembered what you said instead of just remembering what the person next to me smelled like. I don't mean you, Waller. I mean the person sitting on the other side of me in the bleachers. On Carson Sound Stage. Right after we walked under those dumb arches and said something for the camera like, "I'm Allison from New Jersey" just so the powers that be could have something to sell on ebay once we all become famous-er than our wildest dreams. I said famous-er. That's right. I liked it when you'd camp out on our living room floor. Will you ever do that again? It felt like summer camp. Then, you'd call and say something like, "Hey. I'm picking up some Baja Fresh. Would you like me to bring you some?" and I could all pretend that you were my pseudo boyfriend. I said pseudo boyfriend. That's the kind of boyfriend you have without the sex. Oh. My. So how about for your birthday...just to make it extra special....Mels and I will come over and sit down on the seat? I know that will make you happy. T$ and I are cooking up a VSS for you, but you will have to be patient. That's a Very Special Surprise, not an STD.

P.S. - My dad said to make sure that I wished you a Happy Birthday from him. I'm serious. He remembers every detail of that conversation you had with him at El Chollo. I'm still carrying around mystery novels in the trunk of my car that he made me promise to give to you. My entire family loves you. If I hear one more time just how great that Waller is or how I should definitely be dating Waller, I will scream.

I love you Waller! Have a very Happy Birthday!

A dash of adulthood

2005-03-15T11:31:00.000-08:00

After a weekend of excess, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying a home cooked meal accompanied by intelligent conversation with good friends last night. I went up to NoHo to visit JB and JQ. And let me tell you, they are quite the hosts. Red wine. Sharing and Caring. Angel Hair pasta. Salad. Placemats. Crescent rolls. A big difference from the 3am pitstop at the Del Taco drive-thru on Saturday night.

I love JQ. Now, I've always loved JB. He and I fought in the trenches together. I spent the better part of three years driving him nuts and stealing time away from his new bride. But that JQ. There's something very wise, very true about her. The kind of person you can share all your secrets with.

Thanks JQ and JB. Thanks for a lovely evening.

allieplusopenbarequalstrouble

2005-03-13T17:58:00.000-08:00

Dear DP,
I'm sorry that I bit you. I haven't done that since college. Back then, it was a loving gesture between friends -comparable to the nuzzle or a peck on the side of the neck. I really thought I outgrew biting years ago, so for your own good please discourage me in the future if I challenge you to a kegstand or request to shoot the boot. Again, I am truly sorry and hope that I didn't leave a mark. I know sometimes those bitches can hurt.

Dear guy that Ands made me pose with for a polaroid picture,
I distinctly remember Waller urging us to pretend we knew each other. What can I say...I'm not an actress, but I will ham it up for one of Ands' polaroids (exhibit A: Halloween 2004). I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I don't even know your name.

Dear JS,
I held your face and kissed you. Chastely. In front of other people. Because somebody ought to. I'm not even going to pretend that I'm sorry about that.
P.S. - You have really soft lips. Keep doing whatever maintenance you're doing.

Fast Times at Hotel Figueroa

2005-03-13T14:15:00.000-08:00

My head is still a bit cloudy - actual coverage of Waller's Super Sweet Birthday Party to come after more sleep. Little chairs. Tons of polaroids. Quiet conversations on the couch. Louder conversations by the pool. Birthday boy pays his respect to the throne. Fishnets. Shots with Cats that never came to be. San Diego marathon...wha?!? Sweet drinks. Jennie's belly.

Thanks Ands. We had a great time. Let us get you back with another sordid adventure next weekend.....

3 weeks ahead of the curve

2005-03-12T16:28:00.000-08:00

Dammmit. T$ and I went to the mall. I love the mall - blame it on my Jersey roots. T$ and the mall have a 2 hour expiration date, so we tend to race through stores when we shop together. In the blur of Rampage, Black Market, Arden B and Nordstom's, it was abundantly clear that we were 3 weeks ahead of the fashion curve. You see, one Saturday upon a time we went to these very same stores in search of a shrug or a caplet to top off T$'s award show dress. We searched and searched - asked every sales person we saw. No dice. But TODAY - shrugs a plenty, caplets crammed down our throats! Bitches.

BTW - I bought nothing but combo #2 at McDonalds. That's all $4.34 buys these days.....

$4.34

2005-03-12T12:37:00.000-08:00

That's what the ATM told me I have. Bitches. The job, the hours, the Missy Elliott entourage almost killed me. And for what? Four dollars and thirty four cents. I need a new life.
On another note, T$ and I will be hob nobbing with the A-listers at Waller's Super Sweet Birthday Party tonight. I call dibs on all of Ands' single friends. Just don't tell them I'm only worth $4.34. That can be our little secret.

Every once in a while

2005-03-10T22:40:00.000-08:00

It doesn't happen much, but every once in a while I am really happy. When the rent's due, the phone is ringing, the mail is piling up and all you want to do is crawl back into your bed of dirty sheets, it's hard to evaluate your current state of mind. My most recent project ended on Tuesday so I've taken the past two days at a markedly slower pace. I walked to the coffee shop yesterday. Sat down with an eggy bagel sandwich at 2 in the afternoon. Sipped my almond flavored cup of joe and read a gay men's magazine. And I loved it. An elderly lady sat down next to me. She had two big bundles from Trader Joe's and she wanted to talk to someone. I spent a half hour with her. She was fascinating. For an afternoon, I loved her. Sometimes LA feels like small town America.
Then there's the boy. I'm not in love. I may not be in like. I'm in curiosity. I'm in exploration. Call it a mutual appreciation - I appreciate his company, he appreciates my dirty text messages. That's fine for this very moment. It may last a day or a week or a month. But there's giggling in the wee hours of the morning and I like the change of pace.
And this song that's playing now. My beloved P brought me some new music today. Slow beautiful ballads with fret changes. Puts me in a mellow mood. Definitely put a smile on my face.
So, I'm amused by life right now. Haven't really felt this way since sometime in college.
When Tamara comes home, I just may have to wrap my arms around her and deliver her a large hug. Usually she doesn't like to be touched, but maybe she won't mind....just this once.

Three Things I Like About Tamara, Part One

2005-03-09T11:44:00.000-08:00

Whenever you return from the Sev, you always bring me a Raspberry Snapple. I love Snapple. Thank you.

You take out the trash constantly. And you've been beating me with doing the dishes lately too. Sorry.

You let me borrow things like that thing I called to borrow last night. And you didn't even make fun of me for it. Yet.

I'm broken

2005-03-03T09:01:00.000-08:00

Couldn't find a parking spot at the fancy wrap party we had last night. Drove around for 45 minutes. Burst into tears after getting honked at for the 50th time. Said Fuck it. Went home and totally sober dialed my valentine. Who wants to hang out with hip hop stars anyway.....not me anymore......

My Job is Bad for my Health

2005-02-25T23:50:00.002-08:00

5 hours of fitful sleep a night
4 days that I haven't had time to take a lunch
3 lines ringing on my phone at all times
2 coworkers that don't have a brain between them
1 ulcer in the making

But at least I get seranaded (dude, I can't be bothered to spell check) all day long by the American Idol finalists who practice in the hall before going onto their stage to shoot. Sometimes it's pleasant, sometimes I want to howl along........bumping into my boyfriend Ryan Seacrest in the elevator would make it all worthwhile......(sigh)

Right in the eye!

2005-02-19T10:03:00.000-08:00

There are many liquids you don't want getting in your eye. Hot Sauce in the eye burns like hell. Lemon juice makes you want to pull your eye out and suck on it for a while. All you dirty minds out there can come up with another example on your own. But today, I got the absolute very worst thing in my eye to date: ICKY LA FREEWAY RAINWATER KICKED UP BY THE REAR TIRE OF A MATTRESS DELIVERY TRUCK.

I'll take the blame for having my window down a crack in the rain, but that dude passed me so fast that the spray from his tire rushed into my window like high tide. The entire left side of my body was instantly soaked, and I spent the next few minutes trying to keep my car on the road with one eye closed doing the seated "I got something funny in my eye" dance. Can you contract hepatitis from LA freeway water?

The conspiracy continues

2005-02-13T12:32:00.000-08:00

Last night, after T$ and her lovely family left for the fun and fantasy of Disneyland, I found myself alone in the kitchen hunting for food. Bread, moldy. Oranges, squishy. Chicken, too much work. I grabbed a 20 spot from my purse and flipped open the yellow pages. Wouldn't it be nice if there was an old-fashioned deli that delivered? A big ol' turkey and swiss on a crusty roll sounds good right about now. But in our neck of the woods, there are three choices for take-out: A) pizza. B) overpriced but delicious Indian. C) cheap Thai. I went for the cheap Thai.
Does anyone else out there get a wee bit embarrassed when ordering take-out for one? I find myself using the pronoun "we" instead of "I" when ordering. We would like the chicken red curry. And we'll have one order of the vegetarian eggrolls. And then, we'll have one...er, two Thai iced teas. It's pure insanity. The take-out guy on the other end doesn't care if I dine alone, he just requires me to spend more than 10 bucks for a delivery.
When my curry, eggrolls, and two Thai iced teas arrived, I dove into the bag in the middle of our newly-cleaned living room floor. All the dishes in the house were just washed, and I didn't want to mess any of them up. Soon, I was wired from my one and a half iced teas so I looked around for a movie to watch. The only thing I could find was our scratched copy of a film that is not yet released on DVD so I won't tell you which one it is or how we came about having it on DVD in our living room. I flipped through the 8 million HBOs, finally stumbling upon 1992's "Single White Female." Seriously. It was just starting. I had even forgotten that Bridget Fonda's character was named Allie.
After watching nearly 2 hours of psycho girl on girl action, I tried to go to bed. The two iced teas and the monstrous pile of crap on my bed made this a challenge, but I finally drifted off to sleep. That's when it happened. The crazy dreams. Too embarrassing to detail. A hotel, my brother (uh...), my old college friend Frank, latching the chain on the door just in time, this girl Danielle who I haven't talked to or seen in 18 years, finger-pointing and screaming. I must blame the Thai food. Only this time, we...er, I didn't order from Thai Thai. I couldn't find the number. So I ordered from another place: Eat n' High. Hmmm...

Dear Friends:

2005-02-10T18:56:00.000-08:00

Will you be my people when I have people? What about you T$? Mels? Ands? How does one's people become their people? And how come everybody's people today sucked? Seriously.

If you cannot understand what I'm trying to say, talk to my people.

T made me cry

2005-02-08T19:58:00.000-08:00

Seriously. I CRIED while reading Tamara's "One year ago" entry. Man, has it been an entire year already?
I have so many stories to share about the new job! But, wait.....I signed a confidentiality agreement. T$ scoffed at me when I begged her not to tell anyone the stuff that slips out of my mouth whilst we're dishing on the porch because "I signed a confidentiality agreement". I think I'll use that phrase a lot more often.
Q: How old are you?
A: I signed a confidentiality agreement.
Q: Do you have a boyfriend?
A: I signed a confidentiality agreement.
Q: Can I buy you a drink?
A: I signed a confidentiality agreement....er, I mean YES.
Perhaps I'll grow big hairy balls and share soon......the stories, not the BH balls.

Something must've worked

2005-02-02T13:48:00.001-08:00

Yeah! I was offered the job today. Apparently a command of the English language was not one of the requirements.
Good News: $$$$ coming in.
Bad News: It's only a four week gig....curse you, crazy world of television.

Now, I have to do my laundry since my current uniform of college sweatpants just won't be appropriate.

Umm...You know...giggle giggle

2005-01-31T13:13:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I get a little retarded. It's not very PC of me to use that word. My friend, the Special Ed teacher, looks at me cross-eyed and slaps my hand if I say it. I'm in no mood to be PC today.
I just got back from a job interview where I lost my grasp on the English language altogether. I hate it when that happens. Multisyllabic words? Nada. Complete sentences? Nope. Train of thought? Gone. I got really nervous and just kept talking in circles and saying "you know?" and "really" and "like" and "errrererregh".

T$ - where's that DVD of "The House of Sand and Fog"? I think I need it.

I PROMISE NOT TO SPOIL THE TWIST IN HIDE AND SEEK

2005-01-30T01:27:00.000-08:00

What's worse than someone spoiling the twist of a thriller before you've had a chance to see it? That's right. It's when the person next to you provides real time audio commentary on the film and tries to guess the twist throughout the screening. Shut the fuck up.

I can't lie

2005-01-29T18:36:00.000-08:00

I showed my junk bucket to the tow truck guy who came by to give it a jump. As he's revving the engine and checking out under the hood, he oh so subtly changes the subject by asking, "Why doesn't your boyfriend want it?"

Ummmm...

I know enough by now to know that the random segue into inquiries about the boyfriend is super secret boy code for "I Want To See Your Tits."

Do you want to buy the car or not? He left soon after I stopped answering any and all personal questions but called 10 minutes later to ask about the car again. Upon his return, he and his multitude of towing buddies were treated to witty banter with Tamara. They asked her for vodka, made a weird reference to strippers, and it basically turned into a block party where everyone had a chance to peel out down the street in my 1992 Prelude.

That's it.

Goodbye Life of Leisure....

2005-01-28T16:11:00.000-08:00

I may have a new job starting next week! Keep your fingers crossed. I know I should probably keep my mouth shut until it's final, but I'm just a wide open book kind of gal. So here's a list of behaviors I will (hopefully) have to stash away:

1. Having lunch with my good friend Oprah.
2. Listening to T$ as she trudges down the stairs in the morning.
3. Drinking gallons of coffee and Snapple in front of my computer as I check my email constantly.
4. Wishing I could commit myself to an institution for a little RnR.
5. Wishing I married rich when I had the chance.
6. Wishing I led a different life in Jersey or Atlanta or anywhere for that matter.
7. Staying up 'til the wee hours of the night plotting my world domination.

#5 and #6 are a bit frightening to admit and usually don't occur until I'm rummaging through the couches for change to take to the Coinstar. #7 may be a hard habit to break.

Hey Tamara, were you blasting Whitney's "I Will Always Love You" on your new iPod iBox late last night? If that was you, thank you. It led to a much needed giggle fit.

The drunk blog

2005-01-26T23:53:00.000-08:00

I had 2, count 'em two sour apple martinis up the block. Here are things that make me giggle right now:
1. The guy at the bar who knocked over the heating lamp and tried to play it off like it didn't happen.
2. Telling T$ that I tried out for the tin man in high school and was awarded the part of the tornado. She laughed in my face.
3. Big boobs in a tight t-shirt. Admit it. It's funny.

Don't know how you do the voodoo that you do

2005-01-26T14:00:00.000-08:00

Does everyone have a nemesis? You know, that person you can't stand but can't shake? Like Kristen. She was a girl I knew in college. When my friends were renting a house and had a bedroom to spare, I asked Kristen to move in with us. Slowly over the course of the year, she spread her evil seed. At first, I'd invite her to dinners and parties. Then she began wearing my clothes. And hanging out in my room when I wasn't home. And dating two of my ex-boyfriends. I once caught her lounging on my bed in her underwear. I swear.
I think I have a new nemesis. He keeps rearing his ugly head. I don't really know him all that well, and I don't want him in my life. But there he is. Infecting my world.

I'm obsessed

2005-01-25T13:41:00.000-08:00

With the re-introduction of the world wide web, I have been forced to confront an old and familiar friend. Hello OCD. Nice to see you again. Welcome back into my life. Don't mind me as I check my email eight times in ten minutes. Or refresh the blog every 30 seconds. I want to thank you OCD for making me eat the entire jar of cheese in one sitting. And how about the time clean wasn't clean enough so we threw out all of the plates? Fellatio on the first date. Thank you OCD. Thank you for that.

Please take the internet away

2005-01-25T01:30:00.000-08:00

Four hours of random surfing and this is all I've learned:
1. No one responds to emails after 9pm.
2. T$ and I have some random shit listed on our imdb sites.
3. I no longer come up first on the page when I google myself.
4. I am a dark and sad person who will never trust anyone. (Thanks Quizilla.)
5. congratulations your not an idiot

------r u an idiot????---------
brought to you by Quizilla

Thanks again Quizilla. This was confirmed the moment my eye started to twitch upon spotting the possessive "your" instead of the contraction "you're" in this quiz result.

My Life of Leisure

2005-01-24T21:43:00.000-08:00

Beep. Beep. Beep. 7:30am. Hit snooze. Beep. Beep. Beep. 7:39am. Hit snooze. Beep. Beep. Beep. 7:48am. Hit snooze. Beep. Beep. Beep. 7:57am. Turn off alarm while silently giggling.
I'll sum it up for you. Here. Real quick.
Got job. Worked alot. Quit blogging. Rose early. Returned home late. Did lunch. Did happy hours. Did late night parties. Still got up for work the next day. Worked weekends. Climbed Mt Hood. Didn't get sick on a rocking boat. Saw the Nittany Lions win one (for a change). Spent quality time with 625 and part-time lover. Drove across country. Spent night in T$'s hometown. Got outraged. Quit my job.
So....now I have more time for blogging. And more time to hang out with T$ and EMT. It's love.

Just when I was feeling the desire to reach out to the world again......

2004-11-04T18:38:00.000-08:00

Your romance is more of a love that needs to bloom
within, just like Hedwig of Hedwig and the
Angry Inch. The film features an East German
transsexual who is seeking her "other
half" after constant betrayal. You must
love yourself before you can need another.
You're starting to realize this, along with the
fact that you don't need a significant other to
be a complete person. Your "other
half" has been inside you all along.

What Romance Movie Best Represents Your Love Life?

Portrait of a Weekend

2004-09-01T14:30:00.000-07:00

It’s 10pm Friday evening. Already salivating at the thought of downing an ice cold Yuengling Lager in the comfort of the Skellar in T minus one hour and counting, I saunter up to my gate in Dulles International Airport. This day had begun 12 hours earlier (minus the time difference) with my boarding of a plane back in Los Angeles that morning. Magazines, read. Big Mac, consumed. Bottle of water, chugged. Small talk with person sitting next to me on flight, awkward. I was more than ready to get to State College and let the festivities begin. “The door’s already closed.” What?!? Over the next ten minutes, I do my best beggybeggypleasepleasepleaseletmeonthatplane IhavetogetonthatplaneIwilldieifIdon’tgetonthatplane dance. And no, the scores of cleavage I was sporting during my jumping fit didn’t help.

So down to the phone thingy on the wall I go in search of a cheap hotel in the area. Who knew that I’d one day spend a very depressed night in Reston, Virginia? I hop a shuttle and tell the driver to take me to the Comfort Inn. As we travel, I see Marriott, Holiday Inn, Days Inn, another Holiday Inn. Jeez. I picked the one hotel located the farthest from the airport. On the bright side, perhaps it’s located in a cool little downtown area. Someplace I can get a tall alcoholic beverage in which to drown myself. Another Marriott, Super 8, Hyatt…..finally! Comfort Inn. I stumble inside, still on the phone with my friends in State College. “I’m so sorry. I’m a jack**s. I missed the flight.” Incomprehensible babbling and screams from the other end of the line – mixed in with a few “ALLIE!!!”s just for fun. This was getting more and more depressing. I toss my bank card on the counter and ask one final question of the young girl at the front desk, “Is there a mini bar in my room?” No. There wasn’t.

So there I was stuck in Reston, Virginia for the evening. Nothing to do. Debauchery just a short one hour flight away. I think perhaps the gate agent is the devil.

Finally, morning came. One long-ass trip back to the airport, past all the other hotels, back to the exact same gate. This time, I bum-rushed the gate as soon as my flight was called. “But you are not seated in First Class.” “Who the f**k flies First Class on an hour-long flight????”

A short time later, LAF picks me up on the other side. Waffle Shop. Book Store. Sub Shop. It’s all a blur of nostalgia. We arrive at the pitch. Old friends. New friends. Offspring. And the weekend begins.

I cannot even describe the rest. It was pure magic.

Sage Advice

2004-08-24T20:31:00.000-07:00

So there I am speeding down the 5....lalala...someday somebody's gonna make you wanna turn around and say goodbye. 'Til then baby are you gonna let 'em hold you down and make you cry? Don't you know things can change? Things'll go your way if you ho-o-o-o-o-old on for one more day; things'll go your wa-a-a-a-y.....Tell it to me Wilson Phillips. Tell it to me.

Sweet Creamy Goodness

2004-08-24T13:58:00.000-07:00

Dear El Pollo Loco Macaroni and Cheese,

I will never stop loving you. You are there for me when my day has sucked more than a six-pack of harlots. You never change, even when everyone else is ordering the steamed vegetables instead of you. You wait patiently for me to come and retrieve your cheesy bucket of pleasure.

Much Love,
Allie

Dear Vending Machine From Hell,

Curse you and your greedy nature! You owe me three dollars now.

No love,
Allie

Open Book

2004-08-23T20:26:00.000-07:00

What is it about telling people my whole life story? Seriously. If you've got a sec, I'll start in with the stories. And we're not talking the "I grew up in Jersey" type of stories, we're talking the "and then I accidentally knocked her teeth out " or "so there we were carrying this piece of chicken around town" kinds of stories. The mindless ones. The ones that make no sense to anyone else but crack me up at the thought of telling them. Doubled over have to pee my pants stories. I told a few today. Did anybody want to hear them? I'm not sure actually. I told them anyway.

I'm quite broken up about missing the Tom Jones. I've got all these panties and no place to toss 'em. Perhaps I'll take to tossing them at T$ whenever she enters the living room. She's napping right now. Maybe I'll hit her with a pair as soon as she gets up. That'll teach her to go anywhere without me.

Sour Apple Martinis are good

2004-08-19T22:36:00.000-07:00

Wasted. All good. T money is out....um.....for no reason. I had a drink or two. Geez. Life isd good. Love to you all.

Ooh Aah Shoot that Boot

2004-08-18T20:18:00.000-07:00

I'm soooooo excited! Next weekend, I'm flying to my ol' alma mater to attend an alumni weekend and awards ceremony for the sports team I was a part of in college. We went to Nationals in 1994, so the whole gang (chitlins and all) is getting together to toss a few back and take the field one more time. Curse you health insurance! I hope I don't break anything.....
Added bonus: the 1994 men's team will be in attendance as well. Hmmmm....I certainly hope all of my old boyfriends aren't married. I heart weekend getaways!

My Whole Body Aches

2004-08-16T16:58:00.000-07:00

Neck stiff. Knees scraped. Feet blistered.

Boy, was it a great weekend!

BTW - T$ was one of the people in the king-sized bed. Don't let her tell you otherwise.......

Dude

2004-08-08T13:19:00.000-07:00

I just finished typing this long-ass post, but then lost it. Stupid. Here's the re-cap (sans all the details):

1. Production is not for the weak.
2. Me + 22 cast and crew boys holed up in a cabin in Oregon is not as much fun as it may sound.
3. I did exit the hot tub as soon as the suits started coming off.
4. TOWER OF TERROR
5. Hot date with my bedroom today.

There it is in a nutshell. Next time - more details......

Headshots

2004-07-26T23:36:00.000-07:00

I think I will be enforcing a strict "No Headshot" rule in my daily life. If you have a headshot or if your job involves the collecting and distributing of headshots, I don't want to talk to you. Now, this could pose a problem later when I make another movie, seeing as though I will be involved in the casting and directing of said movie, but for the time being - "No Headshot" rule is the master plan. I hate casting. I hate negotiating with talent agents. I hate the casting director that I have hired out of Portland who cannot get the job done but still expects to get paid.

All Hail DSL

2004-07-25T14:43:00.000-07:00

The phone got turned off, but the DSL still works. Go figure. This brings me to one very important question: When will I learn not to just allow my mail to pile up for months? The utility companies don't like it when you ignore them. The moral of the story is that I need a better paying job in order to keep up. It's a sad fact that I made almost double what I make now when I was only 22. And that was before all of the grad school debt. Ahhhh....the life of a struggling artist.

I Hate Diet Coke

2004-07-24T17:46:00.000-07:00

So, I had to go to work today. Stupid. And I stop at the Starbucks across the street from my office for a nice Vanilla Latte. I'm usually not a Starbucks girl. Actually, I prefer my coffee from the Sev. I can even drink the stuff they make at work, but hey - it's Saturday - the receptionist isn't around to make it, and I couldn't be bothered learning how to make myself a cup in the monster industrial coffee maker. So, as I am walking briskly across the street with my steaming cup of Joe, I look down for a second. Damn! Coffee on the boob. I always get coffee on the boob. It's like a little shelf - storing up crumbs and drops of liquid throughout the day just in case I get caught in a mudslide and have to live in a cave for a few days without food or water. At least then I can suck on my shirt for sustenance. But I didn't actually spill my coffee on the boob. Nor did it jump out of the little drink hole as I first suspected. No. It was a faulty lid. The damn thing leaked right at the rim. The point of a To-Go cup is the fact that you have a lid. A lid that holds the liquid in the cup. This lid sucked. But that's not all. At lunch, I drive through the El Pollo Loco. I order a twice grilled burrito and a large Coke. A REGULAR Coke. After getting my food, I drive back to the office with my Coke between my legs. This is of course because I drive a tiny sports car. Cup holders are apparently not cool enough for the car's manufacturers so I have to suffer through scorched thighs on a daily basis - but I digress. I park my car and grab my food. Bitches! Coke in the crotch. Seriously. A faulty lid. The Coke just leaked from the rim of the cup onto my lap as I drove. What's the point of the lid? Must I repeat it here? Now, this is twice in one day. I look like a lactating peeing freak. The kicker of it all is: it was Diet Coke. I hate Diet Coke.

Watch Your Back, Man.

2004-07-20T22:59:00.000-07:00

I swear this gal at work is out to get me. First of all, she was the one involved in the oh so uncomfortable perhaps-this-could-turn-into-a-threesome-romp on Friday night. I discreetly declined and got the hell out of there. Then, she asks me to help her with this script that's due first thing tomorrow morning. She begs for my help at 6 o'clock. 6 pm. Almost closing time. I agree, not knowing how much work it really is.......so now it's 11pm. I'm on Act 3. Out of 5 Acts. I'll be here all night. Bitches. You never can trust women, you know? She must be punishing me for turning her and the to-remain-nameless-boy-who-I-used-to-call-a-friend down on Friday night. Whatever.

To Catch You All Up.....

2004-07-20T18:45:00.000-07:00

Here's a list of things I have either a) Done, b) Been Accused of Doing, or c) Been Presented With As An Option over the course of this weekend:

1. Eating a delicious turkey burger at Elliot's BBQ.
2. Cockblocking.
3. Singing "I Love Rock and Roll" at the craziest karaoke bar I've ever seen.
4. Having a Three-some [don't gasp - see (c) above]
5. Smoking a Big J.
6. Wondering what the hell is going on during 6 Feet Under.
7. Watching I Heart the 90s with a tear in my eye.
8. Doing Laundry [oh wait, that didn't happen...]

When do I have to start being a grown-up?

Dear Allie,

2004-07-16T15:59:00.000-07:00

Stop with the liquid lunches. You ignore me the rest of the afternoon.

love,
Your Job

More Taboo Giggles.....

2004-07-13T19:34:00.000-07:00

Clue Giver: What someone gives to another when they plan to wed.

Tamara: Blowjob!

Hmm....how many times have we been engaged, Tamara?

Clue Giver: Some description that is way to explicit for young readers.

Allie: Teabag! Teabag!

Yeah. It was that kind of crowd.

I concur.

2004-07-11T10:16:00.000-07:00

That always makes me think of Catch Me If You Can. Do you concur?

Spiderman 2 blew. The dialogue was terrible - almost on par with Honey. "I'm doing it for the kids." Terrible. Only this time, it was, "Everybody needs a hero. Your uncle looked for a hero. Kids need someone to look up to. Everybody needs a hero." And what's with the love story? Gee Ay Why. I never believed MJ loved Peter. Yeah, he disappointed her. Yeah, he came off like a wimp when he couldn't tell her how he felt. Oh. Wait. He told her on the phone AFTER SHE HUNG UP. Did I tell you? Gee Ay Why.

Now it's time for quiche.

I'm a SUCKER for quizzes

2004-07-07T20:22:00.000-07:00

Yeah. This makes sense.

Bring It On!

What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
brought to you by Quizilla

I got nothing

2004-06-22T21:09:00.000-07:00

Seriously. I have nothing to say.

The rock is big, but I'm crawling out from under it...

2004-06-20T23:38:00.000-07:00

An ode to Hooters:
Your buffalo wings are tasty, so is your beer.
Do you have special bras made for every girl who works here?

Our waitress did the moonwalk for us. Seriously.
I've been a working girl lately - coming home at 8pm, grazing the kitchen for anything edible (hmm..a pickle and a few Tostitos...perfect!), saying g'night at 9 pm. More like I've been a loser girl lately. Tied one on with T$ last night, and we got the whole band together. It was an evening of many laughs and amusing photos. T$ proudly exclaimed, "I'm hot!" after viewing one of the photos I took of her. She's right. It's a white hot picture. She's got to stop giving out her phone number, though. I'm not ready for the loser parade to come marching through our front door. And I have to stop drunk text messaging everyone in my phone. I must have sent out a million last night with the same message - "Dude." Huh?!? Anyway, my room is finally done. Perhaps the rest of our rattrap apartment will be next........

"Do your Fu*&in' job and drive this bus to New Jersey!"

2004-06-14T15:22:00.000-07:00

Actual quote heard on the bus this weekend at 4am while being molested by the bus driver. Seriously. I heart New Jersey!