Because Life is Just Too Short

10 More Signs Your Life is Seriously Fucked Up

2012-02-08T15:11:00.000-08:00

It's hard to imagine, but my life may actually be worse than when I wrote the original post: http://becauselifeisshort.blogspot.com/2009/08/10-signs-your-life-is-seriously-fucked.html At any rate, here are Ten MORE signs your life is seriously fucked up.

1) You have started fantasizing seriously about a life of crime. Not just the "hey, we should run drugs" kind of thing you might say to be funny, but more along the lines of if I registered a business with the secretary of state under someone else's name and created invoices... This is REALLY REALLY illegal! Why would this even occur to me? What the hell?

2) You spend nearly $600 and several hours filling out the initial paperwork to register for eHarmony and only one guy from your hundreds of matches (many of whom you actually sent a smile to first--see earlier post: http://becauselifeisshort.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-reject-you.html) emails you. Even though he's not really your type, you decide to reply. And get no response.

3) You volunteer to put together a fundraiser for a local charity only to realize you have neither enough money nor enough friends to make it happen.

4) You fantasize about having yourself committed to a mental hospital on a daily basis.

5) The last time you had sex was in a different decade.

6) You are nearing the age of retirement, but still haven't figured out what you want to be when you grow up.

7) Your car has tape holding it together in at least one spot.

8) You have a student loan the size of a mortgage, but will never afford a house.

9) You and your friends spend a frightening amount of time devising elaborate suicide plans, but none of you find this alarming.

10) You've started drinking PBR so you can afford to drink more even though you're a beer snob AND you've opened $100 bottles of wine at home alone because you've run out of the cheap stuff, and were either too fucked up to drive to get more or just didn't care anymore.

The Accidental Handbag

2012-01-06T08:12:00.000-08:00

Have you ever accidentally purchased something? A new Coach bag for example? It happened to me very recently. I had a perfectly good reason for being in Bloomingdale's. I was looking desperately for a menorah for my holiday party. I had tons of last minute details to take care of and quickly checked their holiday decor section. No luck. I was heading rather quickly for the exit when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sale table in handbags. Can't hurt to have a quick look. And there it was, a shiny, black patent leather Coach bag. Reduced 30%. 30%! Talk about irresistible impulses. There was a split second of "oh Helen, you don't really need this and shouldn't be spending money" which was replaced in an instant by "ah, but it's Christmas and Scrooge may give me a bonus this year..." It all happened so fast. Before I knew it, I'd swiped my card, signed the screen and was out the door carrying a Medium Brown Bag with my new treasure nestled inside. I didn't mean to buy it. Indeed, my intentions upon entering Bloomie's were quite pure. And so I maintain that I purchased the bag by accident. A very happy accident as it turns out.

Leaving Home

2011-08-16T22:05:00.000-07:00

At age 18 you leave home for the first time, bound for university, full of youthful optimism about the future and ready to conquer the world. Leaving is bittersweet. Of course you’ll miss your family, but adventure awaits! You are excited to spread your wings, to experience life on your own. You don’t realize at the time that you are leaving for good-- that this house will never really be your home again. Sure, you’ll be home for breaks here and there. The house will be the same except for some new furniture or maybe new curtains. Mom and Dad will be in their usual chairs. It will feel and smell like home every time you return and a part of you will always feel as though you never left.

Four years fly by and suddenly you are searching for your first real job. Renting your first real apartment. Life is happening. You get married . Or you don’t. Have children. Or not. You go to grad school, change careers, travel the world. You live your life thousands of miles from the place you grew up. And time passes so quickly.

Inevitably, you find yourself back in your childhood home. The same one you left decades (my God, how can it be that long?) ago. You’re older now. Youthful optimism has been replaced by healthy cynicism or (worse) resignation. You sort through the remnants of your childhood. Long forgotten toys, homework assignments, beloved books, music in formats ranging from LP to 8-track to cassette. Along with the archeological evidence of your childhood, you find memories in every item pulled from the cupboard—the bowl mom used to mix cookie dough, dad’s handkerchiefs. (He always managed to have a clean one when you were little to wipe your nose or clean your hands.) Every mundane item, from soup ladel to flashlight, is inspected and either claimed as useful or sentimental or relegated to the Goodwill box. The house now stands empty. Lonely. Memories of all those dinners, birthdays, Christmas Eves dance like ghosts in your mind’s eye. There was always so much laughter. But now there’s only stillness. Mom and Dad are both gone. And the house, once so full of life, is silent as you leave home for the last time.

Beer Goggles are a (Fat) Girl's Best Friend

2011-08-06T20:55:00.000-07:00

I had some mixed reactions from people to my last post. Some found my post brilliantly funny (hell yes it was) others seemed to take exception to me saying out loud that I’m fat. Which just seems weird since I am, in fact, fat. I haven’t always been comfortable talking about my weight. For a long time I was so ashamed of it, I wouldn’t have dreamed of calling attention to it. Instead I wore a lot of black and hoped no one would notice my girth. Maybe I would blend in with the walls. Who was I kidding? At my size, the only way this was going to work is if someone thought I actually was a wall. Anyway, recently I’ve started talking about my weight—mostly joking, but also matter-of-factly. After all, it seemed just silly to never mention the elephant in the room (so to speak). I’ve started slipping in a fat joke here, a self-reference there. I’ve noticed that it makes some thin people uncomfortable when I talk about being fat. I guess it is somewhat understandable. If I say to a friend, “Oh, I’m such an idiot,” the friend will say something like “you are not an idiot.” When I say, my God I am fat, they falter. They can’t honestly “you are not fat.” That would make them a liar, an idiot or blind. On the other hand, should my friend agree with me by saying you really are a fucking fat ass, well, that seems mean. So instead they normally say something like” Helen!” in a chastising tone or they make funny, guttural noise and change the subject.

So, anyway, I am fat. And I’m officially on eHarmony! Where I currently have 480 matches! Many of them are fairly unattractive. Some are hideous. Some of them are fat themselves and yet, oddly enough, none of them have tried to date me. One of my thin, attractive friends suggested that maybe they are shy and I should make the first move. So I tried an experiment. I went through and “sent a smile” to each and every one of my matches (except for one guy who was so sad looking that I feared that it was just too mean to do so, though it is most likely he would have rejected me as well). I did this for about the first two hundred and fifty matches before finally losing interest. I got exactly two responses. Both asked me a couple of questions and then disappeared into the ether. I didn’t get enough interaction with either to tell if I would actually like them so it’s not as though I’m heartbroken. Still, I can’t help feeling a little bit put out that nearly 500 hundred men, many of whom are really unattractive and/or much too old for me, are not interested in me…even after I made the first move with half of them. I realize men only date thin women. I mean, I know this intellectually, but I sort of thought maybe my winning personality (hey, what's so funny?) would win at least one or two of them over, but alas, no. As I have pointed out time and time again, online dating is not a good option for fat girls. The problem, of course, is that there’s not enough alcohol involved. Before online dating, you had to meet people the old fashioned way...in bars where, at the end of the night, when the boys are all liquored up and facing the prospect of going home alone, even the fat girls have a chance at getting lucky. Those were the days! Anyway, I figured I'd given it my best shot with online dating. I'd proven my point and was ready to put an end to this experiment. Plus, my subscription was about to expire. So of course I got an email yesterday telling me eHarmony had auto-renewed my subscription for another three months! I’ve basically paid an additional $130 to be rejected by 500 more men. Good times.

I Reject You

2011-05-04T12:02:00.000-07:00

So recently a number of my friends have been saying things like “are you dating anyone?” Or “What about you, Helen, are you seeing anyone?” To which I reply, “are you joking?” Then they blink at me, wide-eyed and cartoon-like “what? Why not?” “Because I’m fat,” I say. “Oh, that doesn’t matter,” they say. Mind you the people who are telling me this are thin and attractive. Their next line is always “have you tried online dating?” Now it’s me who looks at them wide-eyed and blinking? “Are you mad?” I say. “What?” they say, “Everyone does it now.” “I’m FAT, ” I say. “That doesn’t matter,” they say. Again, thin, beautiful people telling me it doesn’t matter. Last week three different people told me I should try online dating.

Maybe they were on to something. Why not give it a shot? Sure, my friend, M, cautioned me by showing me the photo she had saved to her phone of the man a dating site had said was her perfect match. He was so incredibly unattractive that someone actually thought the picture must have been PhotoShopped to look so bad. Still, there is the off chance David Tennant has dumped his baby mama and is currently trolling eHarmony for a fat girl from the States (can you say green card?) in which case I'm in! And if no one responds to my profile, well then I can answer honestly when people ask me if I’ve tried online dating and say “yes, I have. No one picked me.” Because that, of course, is what happens when you’re fat. No one picks you. My thin, attractive friends tell me I have a pretty face. “Doesn’t matter,” I say. A man will pick a thin girl who looks like she’s been repeatedly hit in the face with a shovel over a fat girl with a pretty face every time. Trust me. I know this to be a fact. My friend J actually said to me once: “I met a girl. She’s butt ugly. She looks like she’s been repeatedly hit in the face with a shovel, but she has a good body so I’ll probably call her.”

So, in spite of M's caution, I spent the better part of my day filling out the preposterous million question profile on eHarmony. Am I vivacious? I asked my friends. Should I call myself “somewhat” attractive? What are four words you would pick to describe me? What are five things I cannot live without? (Pinot Noir, Sauvignon Blanc, small batch Bourbon, Champagne and coffee--hey at least one wasn't alcohol,right?) Speaking of booze, the questionnaire wanted to know how often I drink. Does several times per week make me seem like a raging alcoholic? I wonder if there are people out there looking for a fat drunk woman who watches Doctor Who? OMG. After writing that sentence I realize I wouldn’t date me either. Anyway, I completed my profile, uploaded a picture of me holding a glass of wine (because honestly, that’s what I look like most of the time) and waited. Not for long as it turned out. Apparently, I had thirteen new matches right away!

Wow! This was exciting! Until I looked at them. These guys made M’s perfect match look like a Calvin Klein model. Seriously. I’m not joking. Not only were these guys all way older than I am (that’s what I get for saying I like wine and travel, I guess), but they were all extraordinarily unattractive. Now before you tell me how shallow I am let me say this. I am female. Therefore, I am often attracted to men who do not fit in the standard “good looking” category. If a guy is smart and funny and even reasonably okay looking, I’m capable of developing a crush on him. If he’s a bit nerdy, it’s entirely likely I will. I am not overly concerned with looks. Once again, I am fat so being overly concerned with looks would be hypocritical at best. Plus, like most women I know, I'm more concerned with personality. What I’m saying here is that even though my standards are fairly low, these guys were even lower. Of course the very best part of this story is that not one of these fair fellows has tried to contact me. That’s right. I have been rejected by thirteen of the most heinously unattractive men in Los Angeles. I’ll bet at least one of them has saved my picture to his phone and is, even now, telling his friends “can you believe eHarmony said this horror show was my perfect match?”

Once Bitten Twice Shy

2010-09-03T10:10:00.000-07:00

So I’m at a party the other night and I get bit by a mosquito. Not generally a big deal except in this case my arm turned red and started swelling. Turns out I have a staph infection. The doctor said: “ we don’t want it to go into your joint and you'll lose your arm.” Notice my use of quotation marks. These are the actual words he said. WTF? Let me get this straight? I could lose my arm from a mosquito bite? Are you kidding? I could lose my arm because I went to a party? The thing is, I rarely go to parties anymore, seeing as how I hate people and all, but this one seemed like it would be relatively benign. After all, it took place at a lovely Beverly Hills home and was attended by quite a few people I know through work. Mostly professional types. You know, relatively normal upstanding citizens. Sure a lot of them were therapists, but it still seemed pretty safe. This is where I get the death bite? Are you kidding me? When I was in college I regularly spent my time at a place called Mondo Condo. Imagine if you will a house inhabited by four to five (sometimes more) males of the twenty-something rock musician persuasion and one bad ass Doberman Pinscher (Belvedere, you were the best). Imagine there are parties every weekend and most weeknights. Imagine they don’t even own a vacuum cleaner or cleaning products of any kind. And let’s face it. These guys wouldn’t have bothered to use them, if they did. The most they could manage was shoveling out the empty beer cans once in a while. Whatever you’re picturing in your mind, the Condo was worse. Much worse. I am quite certain one could have easily contracted typhus, the bubonic plague, gonorrhea of the throat and the Hantavirus within ten minutes of arriving. Not only was the place a festering cesspool, but most of the people hanging around were some form of derelict, addict, criminal, scumbag or ne’er-do-well (God, I miss you guys). Now add to the mix massive quantities of alcohol and various and sundry illicit substances. Yeah, that was the Condo in all its glory. I spent countless hours at there. Most often about ten beers into an all night drinking binge and rarely in complete charge of my faculties. Clearly “safety first” was not my motto back then (ah…to be young and foolish again). The fact that nothing bad ever happened to me there (hell, from what I remember—and it is a bit vague in patches--those were some of the best days of my misspent youth) is nothing short of a miracle. Which I guess makes getting a staph infection while attending a genteel Beverly Hills soiree some sort of Karmic joke. And The Universe laughs at my expense. Again.

OLD

2010-08-01T16:12:00.000-07:00

I found a grey eyebrow hair. FML. That is all.

The Joke's on Me

2009-12-22T06:54:00.000-08:00

Even as the specter of the Botox needle hangs over the vertical canyon running between my eyebrows and legions of creams and potions appear to have met their Waterloo in the battle against crow's feet, I woke up yesterday with a pimple the size of a volcano on my forehead. I thought the one benefit of aging would be the end of acne, but no. Tell me the Universe doesn't have a sick sense of humor. I dare you.

Turn Left

2009-11-06T08:13:00.000-08:00

Nobody said it was easy. I didn’t think it would be this hard. Some drivel from Coldplay which seems to be running through my head a lot recently. I’ve decided I don’t really like Coldplay anymore so I honestly can’t tell you the context for the line, but I’ve decided it resonates with me because it applies to my life. Seriously, is life such an epic struggle for everybody or is it just me? An informal survey of friends would suggest I’m not alone in feeling this way. It’s not that life is a struggle in the sense of something truly catastrophic happening *frantically knocking wood.* Sure, plenty of wicked crap has happened to me, like most people, over the years. People die. People dump you. People stalk you. People rob you. All traumatizing events, to be sure but when I look at my life overall I’ve been pretty lucky as far as big problems go *maniacally knocking wood.* Not to mention that you find ways of dealing the big things. For whatever reason, things we imagine will undo us usually don’t. It’s the small things that get you. Life will beat you down with a host of petty annoyances and minor disappointments. If those don’t get you, the tedious, day-after-day grind will. I feel like I struggle just to get through each day. Except Wednesdays, of course because Wednesdays have Glee and Glee makes me, well, gleeful!

The struggle goes something like this: Wake up. Curse the fact it isn’t Saturday (unless it is Saturday in which case do a mental happy dance and go back to sleep). Drag self out of bed. Get ready for work. Feed monsters. Go to Starbuck’s to spend 20-30 minutes writing because if I don’t schedule it, it doesn’t happen. Dreadful commute to dreadful job. Dreadful job happens from 9-5, but often keeps happening after 5. A day in the Pit of Despair generally consists of being disregarded for long periods of time interspersed with being treated with the type of disdain generally reserved for dog shit on someone’s shoe. Occasionally you will be on the receiving end of a tantrum thrown by one bitch or another. Last week’s bitch was named Jon. At some point I finish work and go to the gym (yea me!). If it’s Tuesday or Thursday, I shower and head over to the clinic where I see clients. My clients are infinitely more sane and pleasant than 99% of the people I work with at The Pit of Despair, btw. And yes, they are mental health clients. Drive home. Feed monsters. Eat dinner while watching something on TiVo. Attempt to sort mail and banish chaos. Wash dishes. Collapse into bed and brace myself for it to start all over again in a few hours. I often get Saturdays off which means I can clean, run errands, study, do laundry. Or sit in catatonic state. I seem to go with option two more often lately. Sundays I’m back at the clinic. There are also various meetings and trainings thrown in here and there for good measure (and to ensure I have no time for a life) and I’m working on a fundraising event right now. Fundraising, btw, is a living nightmare, but that’s another blog.

Like most of my friends, I look around and think Wow…This is not what I expected my life would look like. I realize I’ve made poor decisions in life to get to this place. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I was giving $20 blow jobs to fund my crack habit or anything. I tend to be motivated more by fear than anything else so I cling on to bad jobs, bad people, etc . for far too long. We often look at people who engage in a lot of high-risk behavior (the $20 crack whore, for instance) and think “well, things aren’t going to work out for her.” I think the same is true for the people on the other end of the spectrum who don’t engage in enough risk. If you play it too safe, you’re going to miss out on opportunities. Being too wedded to a sense of security can keep you stuck in a job that has long since stopped being a good fit for you. It can keep you in relationships that are no longer functional. Sure it can keep you from getting hurt, but it can also keep you from getting what you want. We settle for less than we deserve because we are afraid to do anything else. A friend and I have been desperately trying to figure out the exact moments in which we turned right instead of left in our lives (referencing the episode Turn Left from Doctor Who series four, of course). I think the answer is we didn’t turn right at all. We just kept going straight. The person motivated by fear doesn’t pick a new road. They stay with the road they know--straight ahead, no chancing turning down a side street. Something bad could happen on a side street. The only problem with just going in a straight line is, eventually, you run out of road. And whether you hit a wall , fall off a cliff or just get stuck in a big muddy field, it’s not pretty. Eleanor Roosevelt said "do one thing every day that scares you." I've been experimenting with this idea and you know what? I think I'm going to take that next left and see where it takes me. I'd say it couldn't be any worse, but I'm not stupid enough to tempt The Universe that way.

David Tennant Comes to NBC!

2009-11-03T07:41:00.000-08:00

Finally some good news for a change. David Tennant is set to star in a comedy pilot for NBC titled Rex Is Not Your Lawyer. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/8339796.stm
Not only does this mean we have something to look forward to once his final Doctor Who episodes air early next year, it also means Mr. Tennant will be spending a substantial amount of time stateside if the show is picked up. I've been thinking pretty seriously about finishing with Los Angeles, but since this greatly increases the chances that David Tennant will show up at my local Starbucks soon, I guess I'm going to have to stay a while.

Money and Happiness Revisited

2009-10-23T16:25:00.000-07:00

The idea that money can’t buy happiness has come up again recently. I’m not really sure how this idea ever got so much traction in our society. I personally think it's absolutely absurd. Now if someone said money doesn’t equal happiness, I could agree with that. I don’t believe that money is either necessary or sufficient for happiness.

I know that money isn’t necessary for happiness because I grew up watching Little House on the Prairie. They didn’t have much in the way of material things and certainly they were happy. Not to mention some of my happiest moments in life have cost little, if any, money. If you ever have the opportunity, try this: some summer day get an old inner tube and float around in a lake. If you do have money for a cold beer, take that with you (you may not want to drink too much, the whole drowning thing is not conducive to happiness generally). This ranks fairly high in my happy moment memory bank and was virtually free. You probably have similar memories: the perfect sunset at the beach, a rainy day curled up with a cup of tea and good book (which you presumably borrowed from the library) ---you get the picture. I think we can agree that money is not necessary for happiness. Next we must ask if money is sufficient for happiness. Well, we’ve all read the tabloids, right? Apparently the rich and fabulous are not always happy. Having yet to experience being rich and fabulous I’m tempted reserve judgment, but I think we can be safe saying money is probably not sufficient for happiness.

Now we turn to the real question though. Money may not equal happiness, but can money buy happiness? Of course it can! Money doesn’t just buy material things (though it does and they can be lovely and often make me quite happy. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God and Steve Jobs for my iPod). Money not only buys things, it also buys experiences. Experiences, the little moments in life, are where we find our joy. Yes, many of the best ones are free, but some of the best ones are most certainly not. Many of the most amazing moments of my life cost quite a bit actually. For instance, one year ago today I was in Stratford-upon-Avon where I saw Patrick Stewart and David Tennant perform Hamlet. Not only was the play, which I had the good fortune to see twice, brilliant beyond my expectations, but the entire trip was a little festival of happiness just for me. I happen to love England and Stratford is one of my favorite places on earth because of my long-time super geeky devotion to all things Shakespeare. This was my third trip to Stratford, but my first time going it alone. I did not miss having company. Being on my own felt like the ultimate indulgence. For me being in England is like wrapping myself up in a fuzzy blanket and sitting in front of a fire. On my very first trip I found myself overwhelmed with emotion because of the illogical, yet unmistakable feeling that I had somehow come home.

Last year’s trip was one of the best trips I’ve ever taken anywhere and I was happier those few days in Stratford and London than I’d been in a long time. Fast forward 365 days and I’m at work in the Pit of Despair, feeling oppressed and miserable. The difference? Money. Quite simply I don’t have the money to do many of the things that give me the most pleasure in life including travel. The more money a person has, the more choices they have for how to spend their time and how to get the most enjoyment out of life. I’m not saying one can’t be creative and find ways of enjoying things for less, but I believe the bottom line is that many of life’s greatest pleasures (for me the list includes travel, education, wine, fine dining and theatre) are not free. This does not even take into consideration the obvious fact that, if you have enough money, you can buy your very freedom--freedom from the job you need, but don't love. I've come to realize it is an absolute truth that money can buy happiness. And a Marc Jacobs handbag.

A Real Man

2009-10-22T11:23:00.000-07:00

I’ve been watching Mad Men this season and loving it, of course. Loving Don Draper, of course. How could anyone not? He’s so handsome. I’ve actually wrestled a bit with my infatuation with Don because, objectively, he’s not a man I would want. He’s unfaithful. He keeps secrets. He’s dishonest. At the same time he exudes a quality that seems to have disappeared from men in the past 50 years. It’s hard to quantify, but the best I can say is that Don Draper is a real man. He is confident. He’s someone you would trust in a crisis. He’s strong. He doesn’t go whining on about his troubles. I realize it is somewhat ironic that I frown upon whining since that’s pretty much all I do on this blog. I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions about that. Upon closer examination, it seems I’m probably most drawn to Don Draper because all the men I’ve ever dated have been boys. Never mind they were in their 30s. They were boys. I'm not sure there are any real men anymore. Perhaps none were born after 1960 in America. I’m guessing this doesn’t apply to the UK because David Tennant seemed suspiciously like a real man when I met him in spite of his boyish good looks! I look around the Pit of Despair and I don’t see any men. I see boys who make a tremendous amount of money and pretend to be men--the Pete Campbell’s of the world.

So what exactly are the qualities of a man? As I mentioned, I think a real man is confident (without being egotistical), good in a crisis and strong (I’m talking more about emotional strength here, but a certain amount of physical strength is nice too--there is the occasional jar that needs opening after all). They also need to be able to dress themselves and have appropriate clothes for all social situations. The man who doesn’t own a suit (a suit purchased in the past few years—not some ill-fitting thing his mom bought him ten years ago for his cousin’s wedding!) and can’t tie a tie, is not a man. A real man will be at ease in a variety of social situations. A real man can fly solo--guys who cling to their pack of buddies are boys. If he drinks, he drinks something serious. Real men do not drink fruity, girly drinks. BTW, bonus points for the man who can mix a real cocktail—Jack and Coke doesn’t count--I'm talking martini, gimlet, etc. Still, while these all seem to be qualities of a real man, I think there’s also an indefinable quality, a certain je ne sais quoi, which makes a man a man. Whatever it is, Don Draper has it in spades. And I love him for it.

I'll Never Be 24

2009-10-21T08:06:00.000-07:00

Twenty-four year old blonde girls have become the bane of my existence. I'm guessing I'm not the only one who feels this way. After all, seem to be everywhere. Usually chatting up some guy you're interested in. It's not so much that they're blonde, I've been blonde and easily could be again. It's not so much that they're hot. I can always work out harder and, thanks to the miracle of plastic surgery, I can have giant-sized breasts that defy all laws of physics if I choose. I can have them lipo out all the undesirable padding then add a bit to the backside so I can be entirely bootylicious. Heck, if I can just find that Russian doctor from I Want to Believe, I think I can get an entire body transplant. Despite all of these technological advancements, however, they still haven't invented a pill or surgical procedure that will make me 24 again. And that's a bitter pill to swallow.

Healing Trauma Through Giving

2009-10-21T07:39:00.000-07:00

You may recall my post a few months back about the hideous bag someone gifted me (http://becauselifeisshort.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-as-stereotype.html) and how highly traumatized I was to think this is the way people see me. I decided it was time to put the pain behind me so I turned it into something positive by donating the infamous bag to a charity yard sale over the weekend. Had someone take this picture to memorialize the moment (and so you could see for yourself how truly awful this thing was *shudders*). Surely this is the first step toward healing.

10 Signs Your Life is Seriously Fucked Up

2009-08-29T10:10:00.000-07:00

1) You've given serious consideration to setting yourself on fire in front of your mechanic's shop as a form of protest over taking your car in four times in five weeks. Okay, maybe you weren't that serious, but if this thought even occurs to you, I'm guessing it's a bad sign.

2) One of your closest friends says that meeting David Tennant was probably the best thing that's ever gong to happen to you. Oh sure, she tried to backpedal and denied that she meant that you had no hope for future happiness, but that's what she said.

3) There is mold growing underneath the linoleum in your bathroom.

4) You've decided to tell people you're divorced because it is so much less stigmatizing than saying you've never been married at your age. Never mind that your longest relationships (9 yrs., 6 yrs.) were actually longer than most marriages. People look at you sideways if you reach a certain age without ever having had the opportunity to blow thousands of dollars on a party celebrating your undying love for someone you eventually can't stand the sight of and engage in a nasty divorce battle (not that you're bitter or anything). Seriously, being divorced once meant you were damaged goods. Now it means you're normal while still single means there must be something really wrong with you.

5) You tried going to therapy, but your therapist yawned throughout the sessions. Apparently, even someone you were paying to listen to you found you boring.

6) Someone gives you a cats & books tote bag as a gift. (see old post: http://becauselifeisshort.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-as-stereotype.html)

7) Only six people read your blog.

8) Your way of "getting over" on the powers that be at work involves you working late and on the weekends so that you can keep billable hours for yourself now that the head office has been hording them.

9) Your reclusive friend who hates flying is actually game for attending the Toronto International Film Festival. You have mandatory meetings and training sessions you can't get out of.

10) You've come to the point where your only requirement for a potential partner is that he will drag the bins to the curb on trash day. Still no takers.

Are You Kidding Me?

2009-08-26T08:11:00.002-07:00

So a few weeks ago I took my car to the mechanic because it was making a funny noise. Needed a new water pump. Sure. No problem. Fixed. Done. A few days after I got it back, my low coolant light came on. It comes on maybe once a year so I happen to have a gallon of coolant. I thought it was odd it came on so soon after the car was in the shop, but I added some and figured that would be the end of it. Only it came on again a few days later. I took it back to the mechanic and told them the car was leaking coolant. I figured there was a problem with the new water pump. They replaced my radiator. Okay. Fixed. Done. A few days after I got my car back, the low coolant light came on. I added some. It came on again a few days later. I took it back to the mechanic. The overflow reservoir is leaking, he told me. Despite the fact that I was forced to rent a car at my own cost, and despite the fact that it seemed to me like maybe I hadn’t needed a new radiator after all, and despite the fact that the frustration triggered a ten-hour crying jag and destroyed my weekend, I had them replace the overflow reservoir. Fixed. Done. Yesterday my low coolant light came on again. Are you kidding me? This is absurd. Part of me would like to cut myself. Part of me would like to cut my mechanic. This is just so beyond ridiculous I actually started laughing when the light came on. So today I’m going to call my mechanic and see what other part of my car he can replace without actually fixing whatever seems to be wrong. FML.

How I Met David Tennant, pt 2: Get in Touch with Your Inner Sydney Bristow

2009-08-13T18:12:00.000-07:00

Now, where was I? Oh right, I'd just found out Kate had embraced her inner ninja and was actually inside the ballroom. Well, faster than I've ever moved before I was around to the other side of the room and easing myself inside. A couple of dozen people were milling around, but most had already gone into the party. I scanned the room. There was David Tennant about 20 feet away near the podium. Yellow shirt, red tie. Lovely. Kate was seated looking through one of the press packets that had been left behind. My first reaction was "I want that" because it had Dr. Who pictures. As I was grabbing one from the table behind me, it dawned on me that having these packets made it appear as though we'd been at the panel all along. Kate, already in full Sydney Bristow mode, had already figured that out. We picked up our press packets and made a bee line for David. A few feet away from the goal, Russell T. Davies spoke. Apparently, to us! He said "no. we're all going to meet outside for drinks." Apparently this was his way of saying "back off bitches." The British are so much more civilized. I didn't realize the comment was directed to us & was utterly confused when Kate said "oh sorry. thanks," stopped abruptly, turned around and walked back to the tables. She sat down saying "hold on I just need to take a note." I played along. "No problem. I'll wait with you," I said as casually as possible while trying to look bored and aloof (a move I learned from watching Burn Notice).

In a whisper I asked Kate if she thought we could get into the party. She thought we could as long as we didn't go through the doors near where we'd been loitering the past hour. That meant going through a doorway in which a BBC rep was standing, which seemed even worse. We would be coming out of the ball room and carrying press packets though, so we had a shot. At the moment I was just happy to be in the same room with David. The idea of actually crashing the BBC party made me entirely giddy! Kate suggested I talk about Doctor Who as we walked (having never watched the show she was ill-prepared for pretending to have just attended a panel discussion). I decided acting confident and walking quickly would be easier so, clutching our press packets to our chests to obscure the fact that we had no credentials, we strode out of the ballroom and across to the terrace. No one stopped us! We were officially in the party!

Kate suggested we grab a drink . I'd already spotted the wine guy--not only because, well, he was the wine guy, but also because he was very near the spot where David was standing. We each grabbed a glass of wine, then found a quiet corner so we could strategize. We agreed we needed to make our move and get out before someone realized we didn't have badges. As we made our way toward David, I felt more terrified than I ever had before. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding. I could actually hear blood rushing in my ears--who knew this actually happened? Halfway there I stopped. I was about to chicken out. Fortunately I had specifically told Kate she could not to let me chicken out no matter what so when I said "I guess I don't really need to talk to him" she said, "well, I'm going to" and continued in his direction. I followed close behind pretty sure I might black out at any moment. We walked straight up to him and Kate said "sorry to interrupt, but we need to take off..." And that's how we met David Tennant.

What's that? You want to know what we said to him? What he said to us? Ahhh, well, I had originally planned to give a detailed account of the conversation, but having had a while think about it I've decided to keep that for myself. You have been extremely patient though so here are some of the highlights. When Kate started talking to him, David leaned over (he's very tall--Kate not so much) and listened intently. She began with "this is going to sound strange given the circumstances..." A quizzical look--or was that panic?--flickered across David's face. In that moment I'm guessing he was thinking something along the lines of "oh no, she's going to ask to see my sonic screw driver" or "oh no, she's going to tell me she's named her cat David" or "oh no, she's going to tell me she's named her son David." Instead she finished with "but I really enjoyed Blackpool." This elicited a patented "well..." He later pointed out the Blackpool writer who was actually there--something we probably should have known since he was there for one of the other shows on the panel! Oops. Eventually, David turned to me and said hello as only he can. I introduced myself and told him how thoroughly I enjoyed his performance in Hamlet. Both Kate and I were impressed by how gracious and charming he was. He was also quite attentive and I will say that gazing into those amazing brown eyes was pretty spectacular.

Our mission having been accomplished, we got the hell out of there. I had a charity meeting to get to and, honestly, there was no reason to risk getting thrown out by security.

If I need cheering up, I just ask Kate to tell me about the time we met David Tennant. The adrenaline high was fantastic and lasted at least a week. Kate thinks I may take up bungee jumping now, but I have other ideas. Kate is now officially known as The Facilitator and crashing parties is a lot easier than I thought. I see tremendous potential and absolutely no need for bungees.

How I Met David Tennant, pt. 1: Pick the Proper Location

2009-08-01T09:38:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I read a press release stating that David Tennant would be at Comic-Con, along with Russell T. Davies, to promote Dr. Who. My initial excitement quickly faded when I found out the passes were already sold out. After a few failed attempts at getting passes on eBay, I gave up. At my age I'd rather pay more and have a reserved seat than stand in line with 5000 crazed fans anyway. Besides, I knew David and RTD would also be doing a panel at the TCA Summer Press tour at a hotel in Pasadena. This was definitely more my style! Loitering around around a hotel lounge is an excellent way to spend an afternoon if you ask me. Even if I didn't catch a glimpse of David, I'd be having cocktails in a swell location--no downside there! I was able to find out the date and time of the BBC panel because, frankly, I know people who know people. (Thank you, Ms. X!) The next step was getting out of my job at the Pit of Despair the day of the panel, so I promptly came down with a virus of the 24 hour variety.

I felt alternately excited and, well, nauseous at the prospect of actually seeing David Tennant so I told myself it was probably a long shot as I headed to Pasadena Wednesday afternoon. When I entered the lobby bar I noticed a press conference was taking place on the veranda, but I was trying to act casual so I didn't look too closely. Instead, I found a comfy bar stool and ordered a mojito. I was just a sip or two into my drink when I heard the doors from the veranda opening and people leaving. I looked up just in time to recognize the bony backside of the man in the yellow shirt leaving the lounge, a glance up to confirm...yep, that's his hair. At that moment he turned slightly in conversation and I got a full profile view of David Tennant! Since I hadn't paid for my drink yet, I didn't run after him--having security called on me for dodging out on the tab seemed like it would make a bad (though memorable, I'm sure) first impression. Besides, I hadn't had enough liquid encouragement yet to actually speak to him. So I texted Kate, who was on her way to join me: "OMG. he just walked by me." The afternoon was off to a promising start!

I finished my drink and conducted some recon around the hotel without another sighting. When Kate arrived we decided our best shot was to wait around outside the ballroom before his panel started. After another mojito for courage, we took up our posts outside the ballroom, being sure to cover both entrances of course...and somehow managed to miss him going in! Perhaps we were distracted by the likes of Matt Damon and Paul Walker, both of whom happened to stroll by. Having recently watched four seasons of Alias, I was convinced we could probably get into the panel, but Kate felt it was too risky--and we all know Kate is not one to take risks. Or is she? Once the panel was in full swing and we'd decided against attempting to enter, we knew we'd need to wait until it ended for our chance. This is where our story takes a turn.

BBC America was hosting a cocktail reception immediately following the panel on a terrace adjacent to the ballroom. Guests would basically exit the ballroom directly into the reception. We thought we would catch a glimpse as he entered the party. When the panel ended I became worried he might actually exit from the opposite side and not go into the party so I sent Kate to stake out the other doors. A few minutes later I received the following text: "get over here now. i'm in the room."

TO BE CONTINUED...

You Can Get It If You Really Want

2009-07-30T17:42:00.000-07:00

So you may recall a little trip I took to England last year to see a play and how blown away I was by one David Tennant in the role of Hamlet. If you need a refresher, you can read all about it here: http://becauselifeisshort.blogspot.com/2008/10/full-english-breakfast.html.

Suffice it to say, I've been smitten with this lovely man ever since and, with apologies to Tom Baker, he's even become my doctor. Imagine how excited I was to find out he was going to be in Southern California this week. Now imagine how excited I was to meet him last night in Pasadena! Actually, I don't think you can imagine so I'm going to tell you all about the meeting (as well as all the ninja moves my friend, Kate, and I made to make it happen) in glorious detail here. I'm editing the post even now. Meanwhile, remember that you can get it if you really want!

Prison Break Redux

2009-06-12T20:22:00.000-07:00

Well, I guess I know why Michael Scofield had to die at the end of Prison Break. Clearly, it was all an evil ploy on the part of Fox to get me to purchase their DVDs. So far I've only succumbed to downloading some episodes for my iPod, but I have to admit being tempted. Oh, and what did I find while browsing the DVDs online? I found there is something called Prison Break: The Final Break coming out on DVD next month which will fill in the four years missing from the end of the finale. Apparently it actually aired in other countries, but because Fox canceled the show we get only a DVD release here in the U.S. On the one hand, there are a number of shows I wish would have done a DVD release to tie up loose ends. On the other hand, I'm still bitter about them killing off Scofield, which was cheap at best. Now I feel entirely manipulated into purchasing this DVD. I wish I could say that I won't buy it, but what can I say? I'm weak. I have to see what happened. F-ing Fox.

RIP

2009-06-05T15:34:00.000-07:00

I'm angry. And a little depressed. What's news about that, you say? While it's true that I'm not exactly a stranger to these emotions, I resent the fact that I'm experiencing them as a result of a television show. TV is supposed to be my salvation, my escape from the monotony and drudgery that is my real life. I watch to be entertained. I watch to be swept up by the excitement and adventure (all from the safety of my couch, mind you) which my real life is lacking. I don't watch to have my heart ripped out, which is exactly what Fox has done. I've been pretty busy lately and am just now getting around to watching all the shows stored up on my Tivo which is why this post is coming so long after the fact.

A few days ago I sat down for a Prison Break marathon with the anticipation that my guys would finally win...they'd bring down The Company, clear their names and all live happily ever after. That's what I've been hoping for these past few years, after all. Knowing this was the series finale, that's what I expected. I was partly right. They did bring down The Company and they were all exonerated. Yea! Happy ending, right? Wrong. Apparently the writers decided that a happy ending just wouldn't do so instead they killed Michael Scofield. The star of the show. The guy viewers like me have been heavily invested in and rooting for throughout the series. They killed him. And I'm really angry. I'm angry because I bawled like a baby. I'm angry because, three days later, I'm still a little bit down about this. It feels a lot like someone I knew died.

I know what you're thinking. Yes, I realize I have unhealthy "relationships" with certain TV characters who happen to be Time Lords, but I assure you this was not the case here. Sure, Wentworth Miller is extremely easy on the eyes and Michael Scofield was a very appealing character, but I was in no way fixated. Until they killed him. I now find myself googling Wentworth Miller to see what he'll be doing next, to check out hot photos of him, mostly--I think-- to confirm that, in spite of Michael Scofield's fate, Mr. Miller is still alive and well and (I hope) living happily ever after.

Either the writing and acting on the show were so well done that I completely bought in or this is just another sign that the line between reality and fiction are becoming increasingly blurred for me. Since the latter undoubtedly points to an impending breakdown, I like to think it's the former. And yet, I feel vaguely used and manipulated. Maybe happy endings are trite, but given the state of the world in which we live, I'll take trite. Plus, considering the preposterous premise of Prison Break, the finale was really not the place for the writers to do anything other than tie things up in a neat little package and let Michael, Link, Sara, et al. ride off into the sunset. Sure it's cliche, but that's all I ever wanted or needed from Fox. Just because you can make your viewers sob is no sign you should.

Wasting Time at Work

2009-04-14T23:20:00.000-07:00

In the past week I've been introduced to a couple of great time wasters and I wanted to share.

I admit there is a certain amount of schadenfreude here, but hey, it's nice knowing other people have it worse than you right? Anyway, check it out and I'm sure you'll be addicted like me. www.fmylife.com

I've also been wildly entertained by this site: http://www.stardoll.com/en/dolls/465/David_Tennant.html
What's not to love about a David Tennant doll you can dress up? Of course it really would be better if he came with more outfits. Still, it's a great way to pass the time when your job is boring you to tears.

Mom Really Did Know Best

2009-03-27T15:09:00.000-07:00

Ladies, remember when your mom used to tell you it was just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it was a poor man? Or perhaps it was a great aunt Sally or a good friend who encouraged you to marry "well." If you're anything like me, of course you scoffed at the strong whiff of "gold digger" this advice gave off. You weren't in it for money or security (how old fashioned!). You were in it for love. Besides, you're a modern woman and can take care of yourself just fine, thank you very much. So, like me, you too have probably spent too many years with a guy who it turned out was never going to marry you (of course he ended up marrying the very next girl he dated after only six months), dated "the love of your life" artist/musician/writer who was chronically underemployed (which was so cool and anti-establishment when you were 20, but smacked of irresponsible loser when you were 30), or really thought you'd found "The One" only to find out he was cheating on you. All of which leads to people buying you spinster cat lady tote bags and drinking alone on Friday nights. So what's the point of this little waltz down memory lane? Aside from the obvious fun of picking at old scabs, I mean? Well, I'm older now and, every once in a while, wiser. Today I had a moment of wisdom. It came to me, as most of my best thoughts do, while having cocktails with a friend. Here it is: If I had taken that advice I'd be divorced by now. Yes, that's right. And cashing my alimony checks. Oh sure, I'd still be drinking alone on Friday nights, but the wine would be so much more expensive.

Okay, I'm Putting It Out There

2009-03-20T22:02:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine, I'll call her Perky Patti, recently told me that I should not discount the possibility of hooking up with David Tennant because, in her words "stranger things have happened." Somehow I doubt it since David is known to date hot, young blonde girls and I'm well, not hot, not young, not blonde (spinster cat lady, remember?) Anyway, Perky Patti said I should just "put it out there." So, here I am putting it out there. Since I want to give the Universe a little wiggle room, I offer a description of the basic qualities I would want in a man generally--just in case Mr. Tennant is busy (with a blonde, I'm sure). You will note there are a number of caveats. At first glance this may seem like overkill, but I happen to know the Universe has a really wicked sense of humor. If you aren't really specific, the Universe will use it against you. Although I'm skeptical, here goes.

Dear Universe:

Please send me one British man. Must be gainfully employed, single, straight, free of STDs, well-educated, non-violent, of solid moral character, non-addicted, non-misogynist, non-ego maniac, non-nazi, non criminal, non-lunatic with common sense and a good sense of humor. Must enjoy travel, wine and/or beer and/or cocktails. Interest in history/literature/politics/art/fine dining a plus. Must be willing to learn to love NFL football. Must be hopelessly in love with me, forsaking all others, as long as he lives. Strong resemblance to David Tennant a plus. Actually being David Tennant preferred (unless of course David Tennant is actually a misogynistic, ego-maniacal, crack-addicted, lunatic queen with the clap).

Thank you for your time.

xoxo

Helen

Hum4God

2009-03-18T00:48:00.000-07:00

As you know I hate people. And here's just one more reason why. So, I'm driving along and I see a Hummer H2 with the license plate Hum4God. Really? Really? Look arrogant, religious vanity plates annoy me anyway, but you are driving a Hummer, mother f-er. A HUMMER. I'm pretty sure God is going to smite you for fucking up his planet.

In the Pink

2009-03-06T21:05:00.000-08:00

You may recall that I work for a branch office of a large international law firm, aka the Festering Pit of Despair. Well, it looks like layoffs have officially started in my branch of said Pit. I am so NOT prepared to face a pink slip right now. I realize nobody ever is, but I literally have let my finances skid out of control in the past 10 months...not the best timing. Do I want out of the FPoD? Yes? Do I want out like this? HELL NO! I've already cut my spending way back in preparation for the worst, but I need a several months to get things at least minimally under control. Not sure if I have it. The anxiety around the office has been growing over the past few weeks as every day brings news of another firm doing layoffs. Everyone I know, no matter what their industry, is going through the same. My department has already had some cuts in the hq office so I've been on pins and needles for a while...not much any of us can do about it though. Time to employ whatever coping mechanisms you've got. To that end, I just opened one of my new value wines. (quite tasty, btw)....here's to all those who've already been handed pink slips. I wish you all the best in getting through this mess. And to the rest of us still waiting...bottoms up, baby.

Recession Busters

2009-02-25T20:17:00.000-08:00

You may not have realized, but I'm a fan of wine. A big fan. I love reading about wine, buying wine and drinking wine. It is part hobby, part obsession, part coping strategy--a luxury (make that necessity) I refuse to give up even in this economy. I've been finding some great bargains recently from Spain (Garnacha) and Argentina (Malbec). What I'd like to know is does anyone have any recommendations for great Pinot Noirs under $20? Under $10? I tried the Poppy Pinot Noir recently and while it was easy drinking, I found myself wishing it were more delicious. I'm trying a Mark West Pinot right now and it's not bad for $8.99 a bottle. I realize Pinot is heartbreaking and difficult to grow and that's one of the reasons the prices are generally so high. I'm used to paying upwards of $3o, which just isn't practical right now. Just wondering if anyone out there has any good suggestions for recession busting Pinot Noir.

What About Helen?

2009-02-23T16:56:00.000-08:00

So, it looks like the government is trying to bail out some of the people who are facing foreclosure. All I have to say to that is what about me? When do I get mine, Jack? It is absolutely absurd that I, like most of my friends, have been priced out of the housing market in Southern California because of the real estate bubble. Now my tax dollars are going to go toward helping people who created the bubble and artificially propping up over-inflated housing prices so that I will never be able to buy? How is that fair? Look, I don't want to see anyone lose their home, but why should I be punished for not acting foolishly? If I'd taken out a bad loan on a house I couldn't afford, would someone really bail me out? I seriously doubt it. WTF???

Life As a Stereotype

2009-02-20T15:00:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder how other people see you? You know, not your close friends and family, but other people. People who maybe know a little bit about you, casual acquaintances, coworkers, etc. What do they see when they see you? Well recently I had the *good* fortune to find out exactly what people see. Apparently they see a book-loving spinster cat lady. Fuck me. Okay, technically I am a book-loving spinster cat lady, but only in the most literal sense. Sure I like books, have two cats and am a bit past my sell-by date. This does NOT mean I have a house filled with cat figurines and needle point throw pillows of tabbies. Apparently, people assume I do. How did I find this out? Like many of life's little bitch slaps, it came in the form of a Christmas present. I was given a tote bag featuring a cartoon of a cat lounging on a stack of books with a caption that reads: Books. Cats. Life is Good! Oh HELL no! This is one of those times when "it's the thought that counts" only makes it worse since clearly the gift-giver was thinking "what do you get for the tragic spinster?" I take umbrage at this blatant stereotyping. It does not follow that just because you happen to be a spinster librarian with cats you would automatically have/want/like kitschy cat/book themed merchandise of any kind. Still not sure if I should be laughing or crying.

Better than The Secret!

2009-01-08T16:14:00.001-08:00

So recently my friends and I have been trying to brain-storm ways of escaping from the Festering Pit of Despair (aka large international law firm where we all work) before our souls are completely devoured and our spirits crushed entirely. In other words--how can we get out before it's too late? All of us have outside interests and we are all quite clearly wasting our talents here...but of course there is the small matter of paychecks and the fact that we all like roofs over our heads, wine in the fridge, etc. So in the meantime we hopefully cross our fingers while picking lottery numbers and maintain well-developed fantasies about what our lives will be like when we succeed in getting out of this hell and on to bigger and better things. We were discussing our future lives yesterday--Dee was researching the best kind of dairy cows for making artisanal cheese on her farm, Trish was wondering if David Duchovny would write the screenplay for a book she's optioned, I was wondering whether I should source my Pinot Noir grapes from Santa Maria or the Santa Lucia Highlands--and that's when it hit me. What if the fantasy life is the real life and all this (sweeping arm gesture here) is just a very bad dream? What if, in my real life, I live in a beautiful house on the Palos Verdes Peninsula instead of my decrepit little apartment? What if, when that alarm goes off and I wake from this nightmare, I find I'm safe in my comfy bed inside that beautiful house with David Tennant drooling on the pillow next to mine? This got us thinking. What if we were to behave as if we were living the lives we want? It's like dressing for the job you want instead of the job you have right? It's better than The Secret because instead of just "putting it out there to the Universe" you actually start living and behaving the way you would if you were already living your dream life. And maybe, just maybe, you end up with the life you want, or at least a reasonable facsimile. Either that or I lose my rather tenuous grip on reality altogether and end up in a psych ward, heavily medicated. Technically, I will have escaped the Festering Pit of Despair though so I would consider this a win. Perhaps I really have gone round the bend here, but I think we're on to something. To test the theory, we've planned on heading out early for drinks at the Four Seasons (because that's the sort of thing we would do in our real lives). I'll let you know how it goes!

Happy New Year to All Plus a Rant

2009-01-01T09:56:00.000-08:00

January 1, 2009. Holy hell! Seems like just yesterday everyone was freaking out about Y2K and the impending apocalypse and here we are nine years later already! Turns out the actual harbinger of the end of days may have been mortgage-backed securities. I have a feeling 2009 is going to be a wild one as far as the economy is concerned. My goal for the new year? Remain gainfully employed--the way things are going this will be no small feat. Other than that I plan to be more social (I went to a party last night and am going to another today. Okay, so maybe it isn't a party so much as it is two people watching a football game...but still social, no?), I'm going to entertain more at my home (which serves the dual purpose of being social and forcing me to clean!) and I'm going to attempt to get a grip on my finances which have been hemorrhaging quite badly the past few months. Most importantly, I will continue to do things for no other reason than they make me happy. We all have to do plenty of things every day out of necessity or obligation that we'd rather not be doing. It is important to take the time for a little bit of personal indulgence. Reading the latest chic lit, opening a good bottle of wine when it isn't a special occasion, watching Blackpool again, making carbonara, hanging out in a bookstore or wine shop, sneaking off for margaritas with your friends at lunch time...just a few of the things that serve no purpose other than to make me happy which I intend to do more of in the new year! If I weren't trying to hold down expenses I'd add shop for purses to the list, maybe if there's a sale! Happy 2009, everyone! I wish you all health, wealth and happiness in the new year!

And now a rant. What the fuck is wrong with people who write horrible, awful things in order to drive traffic to their illegal websites? As you know I fell head over heels for Mr. David Tennant after seeing him in Hamlet in October (I blogged about it in the post Full English Breakfast). Well, as a proper fan girl and true geek I set up a Google alert for DT so that I could keep up with news about him. The other day I got an alert with a headline saying that he had died. I could not verify the news as it seemed to be coming from only the one source, but I was still shaken. I realize I don't actually know the man, but first of all there are very few people in the world I would actually wish death upon whether I know them or not. Second, he's a brilliant actor and I hope to enjoy his work for years to come. Third, he's terribly cute. The idea that something had happened to him made me feel physically ill. Eventually, a friend was able to look at the site the story came from and told me it was something called a torrent and totally bogus. I know nothing about torrents, but I know I hate them. Who writes a bogus story about someone dying just to drive traffic to their site? If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times...I hate people.

Modern Day Joseph

2008-12-23T10:34:00.001-08:00

Greetings from the arctic circle...or at least that's what it feels like here in Big Sky country. 25 degrees below zero. That's right -25. Actually, we've warmed up quite a bit and are now hovering right around zero. Not really cold at all. I'm here visiting family for the holidays and was able to see my niece, age four, in the church Christmas pageant the other day. This is the church I grew up attending and I remember being in the pageants. I was always one of the angels. Never got to be Mary which is the choice role as she is clearly the star. Some might say Baby Jesus is the star, but since he is played by a doll in our church, it isn't really much of a part. This year we watched my niece file in with all the other kids and take her place at the front of the church. She looked adorable in her little wings and halo (she had to be an angel too!) and her red Christmas dress. Clearly she knew she was there to look good as she didn't actually do a lot of singing. She did wave furiously at her dad and grandpa who were both busy filming and she often turned around to look at the kids behind her. Sometimes she played with her skirt, doing her own little dance which seemed entirely unrelated to Away in a Manger. As cute as she was; however, she was not the stand out in this performance. That distinction goes to Joseph. Mary and Joseph, played by a couple of wee little ones, came on stage with another kid dressed in a donkey suit (he will most certainly be scarred for life) and placed the Baby Jesus (the aforementioned doll), swaddling clothes and all, in the manger. This task being accomplished, Mary sat down beside the manger. Joseph, in the form a true modern father, appeared terror-stricken and ran to his mother, abandoning Mary and Baby Jesus and leaving them to fend for themselves. Who can blame him really? A wife and baby are a big responsibility, especially in these tough economic times. As a carpenter, he probably hasn't had much work lately. Besides, there's that whole sticky paternity issue... I guess it's a good thing for Baby Jesus that Joseph wasn't a modern man.

Full English Breakfast

2008-10-28T17:15:00.000-07:00

When I awoke this morning I was disappointed to find no one offered to fry me up any eggs and bacon (or as we Americans call it, ham) with tomato, mushrooms and beans as they had the past three mornings. And I was really starting to like the beans too! I just returned from a whirlwind trip to England to see the Royal Shakespeare Company production of Hamlet in Stratford-upon-Avon. It was absolutely fantastic and a dream come true. About 10 months ago I found out Patrick Stewart would be performing in Hamlet and immediately purchased tickets for two nights. Seeing Patrick Stewart perform Shakespeare has been on my list of things to do in life for a while now. I've seen his one man show of A Christmas Carol twice and it was amazing. I have been a Shakespeare freak since high school and seeing Mr. Stewart performing Shakespeare was a bit like the Holy Grail for me. Even though it meant spending money I really didn't have, traveling by myself and spending only four days total, it was something I was determined to do. As it turns out, it was more than worth it. I would go again in a heartbeat.

The trip started a little unevenly. My flight was about half an hour late so I knew I had very little time to make my train at Marylebone. I raced for the Heathrow Express to Paddington, from there caught the tube two stops to Marylebone and, quite unfortunately, missed the train to Stratford by just a couple of minutes. I chatted for a while with two very friendly conductors and after telling them I had theatre tickets they suggested that rather than wait for the next train, which if on time (not something British railway system is known for) would have put me in Stratford with only 30 minutes to curtain, I take a train to Warwick and get a taxi from there. It would give me an hour and a half. Perfect!

I absolutely love England so I enjoyed gazing at the green fields and fluffy white sheep on the way to Warwick. The taxi driver deposited me at the Falcon hotel in Stratford with plenty of time to shower and get ready for the play. The theatre was only a few minutes walk, but I didn't want to be late so I went directly there rather than stopping for something to eat or to go to the ATM even though the taxi had taken most of the cash I'd brought with me. This ended up being a critical error on my part, but at this time there was no way of knowing what the evening had in store.

I got to the theatre, had a bottle of orange juice (lunch and dinner) and took my seat. Front row of the circle, center. In my opinion, the very best seat in the house. For the next three and a half hours I was completely caught up in the magic of the Bard's words brought wonderfully and vibrantly to life by this amazing cast. I have seen a lot of Shakespeare performed, including other performances by the RSC, but nothing even comes close to being as truly brilliant and perfect as this production of Hamlet. The entire cast was outstanding, but I have to admit being completely blown away by David Tennant (or as I knew him prior to this, Dr. Who) in the lead role. He was tremendous. A true comic genius with the range to play the full scale of emotions of the Danish Prince from heartbreaking despair to ribald humour, acerbic wit to seething anger. Quite honestly, I think I fell just a little bit (okay, maybe a lot) in love with Mr. Tennant based solely on his performance. Of course I came specifically for Patrick Stewart and he did not disappoint. His Claudius was truly diabolical, and quite frightening. He is a commanding presence on the stage (or as I wrote in my journal after the performance, "like a god upon the stage") and I have to say I feel incredibly lucky to have seen him on four separate occasions now. He is an amazingly gifted performer and this is never more evident than in his theatre work. Finally seeing him perform Shakespeare was even more brilliant than I imagined. I also have to give kudos to Penny Downie whose turn as Gertrude was also quite memorable. The entire cast was, truly, outstanding.

So after witnessing this amazing incarnation of what is perhaps Shakespeare's finest work, I found that there was yet another incredible treat in store. After taking their bows, the actors announced that this was a special week in England when they raise money for the actors' fund and the entire cast would be in the lobby with buckets. OMFG! I could not believe what I was hearing. Mr. Patrick Stewart was actually going to be in the lobby. I could actually meet him! When I arrived in the lobby, there he was behind the bar, thronged by people, signing autographs. People were having their programs signed. I had decided to wait and buy one the following night because I had so little cash. Oh no. What to do? Then I remembered my ticket. It was actually quite large and would do nicely. I scrounged all of the change from my purse, about four pounds total. I felt terrible. I would have liked to have given so much more. If only I'd had time to go to the ATM before the show! Still, I knew this might be my only chance. Although they had said they were taking up the collection this "week" I knew there was no guarantee they would do it the following night. I waited for my turn with Mr. Stewart feeling excited, terrified, giddy and also ashamed that I had so little money for the charity bucket. When my turn came, I slid my ticket across to him and whispered a tentative hello. He took the ticket to sign and then looked at me expectantly--waiting, I'm sure, for me to speak. I looked at him with what I'm certain was a crazed expression of terror and could not bring myself to utter a single syllable. He handed back my ticket, I found my voice to say "thank you very much," threw my money in the bucket and literally ran out of the theatre.

OMG! Patrick Stewart had signed my ticket! I was nearly hysterical with my good fortune. It was only later that my regret at not having talked to him began to creep in. And I really wished I'd had more money to give. I could have asked if he'd take U.S. dollars, which I had, for the collection. I could have told him I'd traveled for 10.5 hours by plane, 3 hours by train, 15 minutes by taxi and 5 minutes on foot just to see him perform. I spent most of the night lying awake rehearsing a concise speech of admiration for his work, which (I hoped) didn't sound too stalkerish, on the off chance they would be taking the collection again the next night. I was fully prepared. I purchased a program and made sure to have some liquid courage during intermission. Alas, it was not to be. My chance had been a once in a life time chance. I was sad only because I really, truly would have like to have given an appropriate donation to the fund and I would also have liked to have told Patrick Stewart how greatly I admire his work. If anyone reading this happens to know Mr. Stewart, I would greatly appreciate it if you could pass this along to him. I realize only two people read this blog, but I'm putting it out there anyway!

Despite the fact that I was unable to really speak to him, I am absolutely ecstatic over my great fortune in being in the theatre the one night it was possible to get his autograph. And, even if I had not had that particular opportunity, I would still be on cloud nine now, having witnessed such a tremendous production, not once, but twice. It was even better the second night. I'm certain I could have watched this play a dozen times without becoming the least bit bored. I can say in all honesty that this was the adventure of a lifetime and a dream come true for me.

Kids Today

2008-10-21T18:26:00.000-07:00

So I'm walking down the street to my office yesterday and I see an ad on the side of a bus shelter which, I kid you not, is actually aimed at getting kids to play. It says "One Hour a Day. Go Out and Play!" What kind of a country are we running here where kids aren't, of their own volition, going out to play? Isn't that their only job as kids? Isn't there something in the way they are hard wired that causes them to erupt into spontaneous play without prompting from the Ad Council? How did we end up here? Is it the video games which have taken over most every kid and a number of adults and turned them into sort of cyber zombies who live only in the virtual world? The paranoia parents have of letting their kids outside in a world filled with creeps and wackos? Or the chronic over-scheduling of our kids with homework, sports, clubs, lessons, etc. all aimed at getting them into the right pre-school so they can go to Harvard Law some day and then resent the fuck out of you because they really wanted to be a photographer? Perhaps we have a perfect storm which has come together to rob children of their childhoods, of the pure exhilaration of riding their bikes as fast as they can and taking the "Evil Knievel" style jump at the bottom of the hill, of climbing trees and throwing Frisbees, playing football and having snowball fights. I admit I spent more than enough time sitting on my fat little backside playing Barbies, but I did all these things and more and had a ball! Do kids today really need an ad to encourage them to have real fun in the real world? If that's true then it is a sad, sad day for America.

The Bailout Blues

2008-10-09T15:43:00.000-07:00

What the fuck is going on here? AIG gets $85 billion then sends their people on a $400,000 retreat and the government turns around and hands them another $38 billion? Are they on crack? According to this article on Marketwatch.com http://www.marketwatch.com/news/story/senate-chair-gets-mad-over/story.aspx?guid=%7BCDA1827B%2DFC98%2D4320%2D80E9%2DCD0239BDC80F%7D AIG has yet another retreat planned! And Wachovia is sending up to 75 of its brokers and their significant others on a cruise of the Greek Isles. This is beyond ridiculous! I have no words to describe how offended I am. Remember when everyone used to complain about the "welfare moms" who were driving Cadillacs? How is this any different? These companies are accepting bailout money and then continuing to behave irresponsibly. Talk about fucking hubris. Kudos to Senator Baucus. I hope he can actually do something to bring these greedy bastards down.

Look, I did NOT buy a house I couldn't afford. I didn't dupe stupid people into taking out adjustable rate mortgages on houses they couldn't afford. I didn't package up bad loans and sell them as securities. I didn't rate said securities as AAA. So tell me again why I'm stuck footing the bill for these shenanigans? Fuck every last one of them. Let the banks fail and they can all rot in hell. All my money's in liquid assets (aka wine!) so I've nothing to lose now that my 401k has been decimated. I can live on ramen. I've done it before. Let Wall Street feel what it's like to suffer for change. Maybe I'll never be able to retire, but if it means these bastards get what's coming to them, I don't care. I am too incensed to care.

I do have one really good idea for helping Wall Street out though. I know exactly how they can raise a ton of money. Did you hear how Lehman Brothers CEO, Richard Fuld, was punched in the face while running on a tread mill in the gym after announcing Lehman would be filing for bankruptcy? Knocked him right the fuck out, apparently. I know, it really is awesome! Now, wouldn't you like a similar opportunity? I know I would. I say we take all these Wall Street Fat Cats, especially any recipients of golden parachutes and any prick who goes on that cruise of the Greek Isles, and we line them all up and for $10 anyone who wants to can take their best shot. $20 for a shot to the groin! I think there would be plenty of interest from all the Joe and Jane Six-Packs out on Main Street, don't you? Look, I know violence is wrong, but I'm just saying.

Made in America

2008-10-06T18:44:00.000-07:00

Remember when you were a kid and you could still actually find stuff that was made in America? When was the last time you saw something with a made in America label? I know I can 't remember. It used to be only cheap stuff was made in China and it was considered inferior. We didn't have Wal-Mart when I was a kid. We had K-Mart. Sure we shopped there, but never for anything substantial. K-Mart was associated with cheap products. Often made in China. Or Taiwan. All of my Barbies, which we bought at K-Mart, had Taiwan stamped on them. Foreign made products made my WWII vet dad angry and he avoided them when he could. The implication was always that products made in China were cheaper and, therefore, inferior. For the past ten to fifteen years I've noticed more and more things have the made in China label. I've purchased gifts, say photo frames with little tags saying made in China. I always removed the tag so the recipient wouldn't think I was cheap. It has recently occurred to me that it is no longer only cheap things which are made in China. I bought a decidedly not cheap dining set last year. The brand name was American Drew. Imagine my surprise when the table and chairs were delivered and I discovered little tags saying made in China. You would think that if the company name is American Drew, their products would be made in fucking America Yesterday, I was washing dishes and noticed for the first time that underneath the Crate & Barrel logo on the back of my plates it says, you guessed it, made in China. Again, these plates were not cheap. I did not buy them at Wal-Mart. I bought them at Crate & Barrel. Fucking Crate & Barrel. I suppose I really shouldn't be disparaging China in this way and I sound a bit like Archie Bunker here, but it would be a lot easier if there weren't a story every other month about some new poisonous product coming out of China. First the dog food, then the toothpaste, the children's toys. Now of course they have the tainted milk. Products made with the tainted milk have, in fact, made it to the USA. Mostly to small Asian markets, but still, is anyone paying any attention? Shouldn't one poison scare be enough? And what's up with the Chinese?
They executed the former head of their FDA last year http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/07/09/AR2007070900689_pf.html. Now you would think that would be enough to put everyone on the straight and narrow and yet, here they are with tainted milk.

But China really isn't the problem. The problem is American companies who are so obsessed with profit margin that they refuse to make things in America anymore. Manufacturing jobs are going the way of the Dodo bird. And with these manufacturing jobs goes our middle class--the very people companies count on to purchase the products they have made in China, Bangladesh, Mexico, etc. Without a middle class, there just isn't going to be a market for consumer goods, no matter how cheaply Wal-Mart can sell them.
Look, I don't know what the answer is here, clearly we are living in a global economy (one that is in serious trouble right now), but the collapse of the middle-class in America seems almost apocalyptic in nature and I think it is about time American businesses thought about the big picture for a change instead of just this quarter's bottom line.

Penny Pinching

2008-09-21T18:07:00.000-07:00

Since my financial situation is not as sound as it once was I've been looking for ways to cut expenses. One obvious choice is the morning coffee I generally pick up on the way to work. Now, I could save a ton of money by drinking the toxic sludge that passes for coffee at the office, but that seems a bit severe. Despite the fact that the office buys premium brand coffees something about the brewing method or equipment always results in something highly offensive. Since life is just too short to put up with something so foul, I decided to purchase a French Press coffee maker and brew my own. I have to say it is quite amazing. I've had French Press coffee in restaurants, but I've never made it at home before. It makes a really rich, delicious cup of coffee. Far superior to my old drip coffee maker. I feel great since I'll be able to save money while at the same time enjoying a really good cup of coffee on my way to work. This is key since the luxury of a cup of coffee on the way is one of the ways I bribe myself to actually get out of bed and into the shower every morning rather than just calling in sick and going back to sleep (which is always my first choice). Coffee and using the office outlet to charge my laptop are the main reasons I go. Technically this is probably stealing, but since they are sucking the life out of me little by little, I feel it's only fair I suck up a little free electricity. Plus, I'm saving literally pennies a month on my electric bill. I'll be a millionaire in no time!

NFL In Los Angeles

2008-09-21T10:02:00.000-07:00

So some of you may have noticed that LA doesn't have an NFL team. Yes, we're one of the largest markets in the country and yet we have no team. Sure, LA fans have been known to be apathetic. Yes, they often leave at the start of the 4th quarter to get a jump on traffic. And it is also true that with so many transplants, the majority of Angelenos are following a team from some other part of the country anyway. So, while many of of us don't actually care that much about LA not having a team, the thing that does bother me is why we can't get better games on TV. Today, for instance, there's one morning game and what do we get? Oakland at Buffalo! Are you fucking kidding me? Who wants to see this crap? I realize the Raider Nation is alive and well in LA, but seriously even they can't think this is going to be a good game! And I do know a couple of Bills fans (apologies to DM and BA) who I'm sure are happy to see their team, but come on! If there were two morning games so we at least had a choice, it wouldn't be a big deal. With no team of our own, we should be able to get the best games every week. And I will admit there aren't a lot of great morning games today, but it seems they are always trying to cram either the Raiders or the Chargers down our throats. I would write a strongly worded letter to Time Warner, but I'm sure it wouldn't do any good. I begged them to let me have NFL Network to no avail. I guess the best solution is for me to switch to DirecTV so I can get NFL Sunday Ticket and see whichever game I want... because life is just too short to spend your Sundays watching crap games (unless of course your team happens to be playing in the crap game...but that's another post!)

Missing Mick!

2008-09-19T18:53:00.000-07:00

Finally! I've survived another week and am now safely ensconced on my lovely sofa with with a Sam Adams in one hand and the TiVo remote in the other ready to catch up on the past week's TV offerings! I realize it verges on (okay is) pathetic that this is the highlight of my week, but since I have so little time for myself these days I relish my Friday night ritual. Sure a life would be nice, but my sofa is very comfy! Of course my Friday nights were a helluva lot better this time last year when I could watch the adorable Alex O'Loughlin on Moonlight. Ever since the fall season started, I've been missing my vampire fix so tonight, in addition to catching up with Mad Men and Sarah Connor Chronicles, I'm watching one of the old episodes. I really wish CBS would have given the show a fair shot. It will be interesting to see what they come up with for Alex next year since they were actually smart enough to keep him around. I'm sure he'll be great in whatever it is. And I'll be watching from my lovely sofa.

More Musings on Money and Happiness

2008-09-18T12:08:00.000-07:00

Remember that old saying that money can't buy happiness? Total and complete crap. Money can, in fact, buy happiness. I once pointed out on this very blog that money couldn't buy happiness, but it could buy a Marc Jacobs bag. I'm only just realizing that the ability to buy a Marc Jacobs bag was, for me at least, happiness! With the economy in the toilet, the cost of everything going up, up, up and my monthly expenses doubling because my roommate bailed, I have very little discretionary income left. In other words, my fun money is gone, and with it, my fun! Now I know there are many things one can do for low or no cost. Yes, I am a fan of sunsets, museums and all the other lovely things which can be enjoyed without a platinum card. But the truth is, I'm a much bigger fan of collecting wine, fine dining and travel. Plus for me, the real kicker is I don't like my job. The one big upside has always been the fact that I was fairly comfortable financially. The job sucked, but it afforded me the ability to pursue my expensive interests. Since that is no longer the case, it is even more difficult to drag my sorry ass into the office every morning. I realize that the financial melt down means a lot of people have much more serious problems than I do--they've lost jobs, homes, etc., but the reality is that I have giant student loan debts of my own, my savings has gone bye-bye and I'm really not feeling all that secure either. Looks like the party's over on Wall Street as it has been for the rest of us for a while. Sad to say, I think it is going to be one helluva hangover. And now that I no longer have the rationalization that the unhappiness of the job is balanced by the happiness of the things it buys, I have to ask myself what the fuck am I really doing here?

Osteria Mozza!

2008-08-28T16:24:00.000-07:00

Just returned from my third visit to Osteria Mozza and all I can really say is WOW! I absolutely adore this place. (I happen to adore the pizzeria next door too, but that's another post!) It is difficult not to over order at Osteria Mozza because there are so many enticing dishes on the menu. This time we selected the grilled figs wrapped in pancetta with dandelion greens and the grilled octopus as appetizers. The figs were wonderful (how can anything wrapped in pancetta be bad?), but the octopus was outstanding. It had a serious char which gave it great flavor and the celery greens and lemon vinaigrette were the perfect foil. It was one of the stand-out dishes of the night. Next, we selected three items from the mozzarella bar. Nancy Silverton is a genius. Just thinking about her wonderful creations makes my mouth water. We had the scamorza panino featuring mole salame from Mario's dad's place. I've mail ordered this stuff before. It's that good. Here it is the star of a wonderful little pressed sandwich set off with pickled cherry peppers--scrumptious! We also had the ricotta and grilled radicchio with fried rosemary, honey and candied walnuts. This was the least impressive dish. The honey and rosemary worked beautifully together. The radicchio, which I'm sure was meant to offset the sweetness of the dish, didn't really work. Our third mozzarella bar selection was the bufala mozzarella, culatello and pickled shallots on pane pomodoro--this was so crazy good, I don't have words to express it. I have actually dreamed about this dish and hope it is on the menu next time I go!

Rather than have a pasta and an entree, I decided to have two dishes from the primi section. I started with the incredibly decadent raviolo with ricotta and egg yolk in browned butter with sage. For those of you who haven't had this dish, the magic comes when you break into the raviolo allowing the soft cooked egg yolk to pour out and meld with the browned butter making a luscious, velvety sauce. It is sublime. For my final course I chose the gnocchi with wild boar ragu. The sauce was rich and hearty and paired really well with the Brunello di Montalcino I brought. The gnocchi were ethereal--wonderful little pillows, melting in my mouth. It was truly a revelation. Unfortunately, after the second pasta course we had eaten too much to even think of getting a dessert. Once again, the meal was incredible. I look forward to returning to Osteria Mozza soon because life is too short not to enjoy incredible meals with good friends on a regular basis!

Happy Happy Joy Joy!

2008-08-05T11:05:00.000-07:00

Wow! What a tremendous weekend for me! X-Games (not to mention the X-Files movie!! Go see it!!) and the Hall of Fame Game! Woooo Hoooo! I'm so excited to have NFL football back! Plus, the X-Games were phenomenal as always. All I can is Danny Way is truly amazing. I don't think Hollywood could have written a better script. When he said "I'm taking all the runs" I got chills. What a performance by Danny, Jake Brown, and Bob Burnquist. I'm just in awe of these guys. They embody all that I love about sport.

You know it's bad when even your spam hates you.

2008-05-28T11:35:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I began receiving spam with the subject line "I have naked video of you, Helen." My reaction, before hitting delete, was good for you! I hope you enjoy it. I mean I'm not getting a lot of play these days so really I took it as a compliment. Then I started getting messages with the subject line "your face looks so stupid, Helen." Well, gee, thanks! Isn't it bad enough I'm in the midst of an existential crisis here? Do I really need to be insulted by spam when I sign on to my email? And what exactly do the spammers expect to get from this? I hit delete so I don't know what the point of the messages were. Perhaps a plastic surgeon offering to fix my stupid face? What the hell?

Mistakes Were Made

2008-05-28T11:12:00.000-07:00

Remember when you were young, like just starting college or maybe even just finishing undergrad? Recall how you felt like you had your whole life ahead of you? You were bursting with potential…the world was your oyster, the possibilities were endless. Then life happened and things maybe didn’t go quite as planned. Now here you are fantasizing about winning lotto because all that potential didn’t really amount to anything and you realize that winning ticket has become your last best hope--your ticket out of the job you hate and into the life you always thought you would have. Do you ever wonder how it is you ended up here? I mean was there one huge mistake you made that lead you down this path or was it a series of small missteps? Would my life be different if I hadn’t blown off the guy I met at the orientation dance during my freshman year of college? If I hadn’t started hanging out with guys in rock bands? If I had taken the job at my university instead of in the office downtown? If I’d gone to law school? If I hadn’t broken up with the boyfriend before the Rat Bastard? If I’d never met the Rat Bastard? If he’d never broken up with me? Am I somehow where I’m supposed to be? (What a cruel joke that would be!) Because I can assure you this is not where I ever imagined I’d be. I keep waiting for my “real life” to start, but as John Lennon said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” And all that "I've got my whole life ahead of me" optimism is fast becoming frantic despair--hence Lotto as a viable option. As I’ve said before, mistakes were made. I just wish I knew exactly what they were so I could undo them!

Dismal Time of Year

2008-05-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

With NCAA basketball but a distant memory and fully three months until pre-season football, what is a girl to do? Oh sure, there’s baseball, but I’m sorry…it’s boring. I have tried arena football and I reject it totally. I’ve often flirted with hockey and feel there could be a connection there, but really have yet to develop any sort of passion. I’m still angry with the Lakers and refuse to jump on the band wagon just because they’re doing so well right now. Plus, NBA ball is just not as exciting to watch as college, IMHO. Beach volleyball is back, which is great. It is one of my favorite sports. Unfortunately TV coverage is limited to the final which means we get to see Rogers and Dalhausser destroy one team or another week after week. It’s a shame there isn’t more coverage considering they diminished the sport by switching from side-out scoring to rally point scoring so it would play better on television. The game just isn’t the same since the switch. Of course I still watch, but I really miss the good old days when teams could fight their way back from a huge deficit and make an exciting game out of it. Comebacks like that are pretty much impossible now and I admit I don’t follow the AVP as closely as I once did.

So for me, this time of year is just spent longing, pining actually, for Fall and the start of football season. I guess the only upside to this long dry spell is how exciting it is when football season finally arrives! Those first few weeks-- when every team can dream of making the playoffs --are like being reunited with a long lost lover. You are so happy to see them, of course you forgive how they let you down last season. This is a brand new year, a brand new team and you are all starry eyed, believing that this time things will be different. This year you will go all the way! It is a beautiful thing, but for now all I have is anticipation (just like Carly Simon sang about in those Heinz commercials!)

Help people. Sure...whatever.

2008-04-29T11:22:00.000-07:00

So…I signed up to be a Big Sister. Sounds good, right? Hang out with a kid, do fun stuff on the weekends…Disneyland, movies, museums. Things you would do if you had kids of your own (which you might if you hadn't wasted seven of your best years with a Rat Bastard, but I digress...) Anyway, it sounds great, right? Maybe even make a difference right? Well, I signed up and I got a kid who doesn’t speak to me. Now I realize she’s had a hell of a life, so cut her some slack right? Never mind that she doesn't so much as say goodbye (I'm easy, I wasn't expecting a thank you) when I drop her off. She's troubled, cut her some slack right? You try spending an entire afternoon (your precious weekend afternoon, no less) with a child who may or may not be having fun, who may or may not actually like you, who will barely answer direct questions. You have your choice of either awkward silence or your own even more awkward rambling. Sound fun? Well, how about this? Apparently, she’s been kicked out of school for shooting a kid in the head with a BB gun. What luck! I mean she doesn't speak, possibly hates me and she has some violent tendencies. I don't care if it is only a BB gun. I'm pretty sure she could kick my ass if she wanted.

This isn't the first time my attempt at being a do-gooder has failed. I tried teaching adult literacy classes once…not so much fun. Most people drop out after a couple of weeks. One dude showed up (clearly baked) every few weeks. Who stays? The guy who needs to finish the class as a requirement for something else he’s doing…he’s in a hurry to get through and finish…does he care if he actually learns anything? Oh hell no. How rewarding was this experience for me? Not much. Now here I am a Big Sister. Rewarding? Not much, but at least I haven't been shot yet. Obviously I should get over the whole bleeding heart thing and just write a check at the end of the year like normal people.

People

2008-04-29T10:55:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that I hate people? Not all people, of course. There are individual people I actually like very much. Alex O'Loughlin, for example. I'm also quite fond of several members of my family, and most of my friends. In general, however, I hate people. Mostly because people are stupid. And it isn’t just American people either (though we certainly do have more than our share). In Paris I found myself in the Louvre surrounded by (mostly) European tourists who insisted upon taking flash photos throughout the museum, despite the fact that signs everywhere specifically say “No Flash Photos.” In the US when you take a flash photo in a museum a large guy in a suit appears out of nowhere and threatens to confiscate your camera and imprison you (or at least kick you out.) In Paris, despite exorbitant museum entrance fees, there seemed to be no security staff whatsoever to enforce the ban on flash photos. Hey, Stupid Flash Photo Taking Morons, you are ruining priceless art! Stop it! Buy a postcard in the gift shop if you must, but stop taking photos. Just one small example of why I hate people.

Oh, btw, if you are wondering why someone who hates people so much is spending a fortune on grad school so she can go into a “helping” profession, well…it’s a question I’ve been asking myself lately and I have no good answer. Clearly mistakes have been made.

Post-Paris Post

2008-04-18T15:03:00.000-07:00

So a lot has happened since my last entry. Well, actually considering it was two months ago not that much has happened. I did go to Paris for my birthday. It was a fantastic trip! I absolutely loved Paris. It is a great city in which to be alone. The beauty of the city is astounding, the museums amazing and the food...well I could write pages about the butter alone. I realized while I was there the weather perfectly matched my mood for the past two years...mostly grey with the occasional patch of blue sky and sun. Of course I spent quite a bit of time reflecting on my life (or lack thereof) and what I want from it. It seems one should have goals...something to work toward. After much thought, I think I've found one: I'd like to win lotto. Not some scratch ticket either. I want all the numbers, plus the Power Ball. Not just because I'm greedy (trust me, I'd set up some foundations, contribute to my favorite charities, put a few kids through college), but because I really just want the freedom to be able to say fuck you whenever I want, to whomever I want. When it comes right down to it, this is what everyone wants.

At some point someone (katedating.blogspot.com) blog tagged me and said I had to reveal seven previously unknown things about myself. I know it has been a while, but here they are:
1) I've both hitchhiked and picked up a hitchhiker. Scary, huh?
2) I still have the notes my friends wrote to me in high school. Never know when I may have the opportunity to blackmail someone... ;)
3) I am haunted by the fact that I have never cleaned the coils on my refrigerator which I fear may lead to its untimely demise.
4) During the second half of the basketball season I developed a slight crush on Duke's Greg Paulus who is not only too young, but also sort of goofy looking (in a very cute and totally hot way!) so I guess I'm not only a pervert, but have questionable taste as well. I'm okay with it though. I'm not okay with Duke losing in the second round of the tournament, but that's another story.
5) I really enjoy arguing about politics. Sometimes I argue positions I don't even believe just to get a rise out of people. It is so much fun!
6) Even though I'm a huge supporter of alcohol, I really like Shirley Temples.
7) I have spent obscene amounts of money on wine. Seriously, you think you know, but you don't! It isn't that any one purchase was horribly egregious, it is just when you add it up, well...let me just say even I was a little unsettled.

Valentine's Day Hell

2008-02-08T11:22:00.000-08:00

I am in hell and I can’t seem to escape it. Every time I turn around there’s another TV commercial, billboard or window display reminding that Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. Yes, I will be alone on Valentine’s Day and the Universe has missed no opportunity to rub it in. Okay, I will admit that I’ve pretty much been in a relationship of one sort or another for most of my adult Valentine’s Days and had been so busy naively baking heart shaped cookies for the Rat Bastard, I never noticed how insidious this “holiday” really is.

Every online merchant I’ve ever shopped with is sending me emails suggesting gifts for that special someone. I mean every online merchant. Not just Godiva, but Pottery Barn and OnlineShoes.com. Who knew UGG boots were a Valentine’s Day tradition? Of course now that I think about it they were pretty cute and, since I’m the special someone I’ll be shopping for, maybe I should take another look at that email... but I digress. The scariest Valentine’s Day plug I've been assaulted with was the radio commercial for KY Jelly I heard this morning. Yes, that’s right KY Jelly wants to be part of your Valentine’s Day festivities. The fact that they were playing an ad for personal lubrication products was disturbing enough on its own. What really got me was the realization that, at the rate things are going, by the time I have sex again KY Jelly will no longer be a racy option. It will, sadly, be a necessity.

If I trusted the Universe, I'd say it was a good day!

2008-02-06T16:58:00.000-08:00

Much to my surprise today has started off quite well for me. I woke up early instead of late. I saw a cute guy at my local Starbucks. When I got to work there was not only a bottle of wine from a friend, but a Hostess cupcake waiting for me. Now really, I don’t think it gets any better than wine and the sugary goodness that is a Hostess brand snack cake, so needless to say I was thrilled! Of course this means I am now waiting for something bad to happen since I don’t think I’m technically allowed to be, well, happy.

My biggest fear is that the something bad will involve a TiVo malfunction. Since I have no life, or more specifically since the life I have is filled with a job, grad school and internships which seem to get more miserable by the day, I take pleasure in the little things (drinking wine, spending money I don’t have, etc.) Right now Duke Basketball is one of those little things. And it’s not just because there’s nothing else on TV due to the writers’ strike. The Devils are playing really well right now, despite not having a true big man, and tonight is the first meeting of the year with UNC –one of the greatest rivalry games in all of sport—so I'm really looking forward to the game. Plus, I happen to think Greg Paulus is hot. Not hot in the way Alex O’Loughlin or George Clooney are hot (you know, actually GOOD looking), but hot nonetheless! I happen to have a thing for scrappy point guards from Duke and the way he's stepped up his play lately has been impressive. Anyway, the point is, I have class tonight and won’t be able to watch the game until I get home so I have to trust the Universe not to interfere with my TiVo Season Pass. And I don’t trust the Universe. Especially not after it has lulled me into a false sense of security with Hostess brand snacks and unexpected bottles of Pinot Noir.

Of course, if TiVo functions properly AND Duke wins, maybe I'll have to reconsider my trust issues.

Money Can't Buy You Love, but it Can Buy You a Marc Jacobs Handbag

2008-02-05T15:16:00.000-08:00

Finally! After much angst and introspection, I've finally come up with a name for this blog. A name that conveys my deepest feelings about where I am in life. And where I am in life is the fast lane on the road to ruin. Financial ruin mostly. The reason is simple. Life is just too short. Too short to drink cheap wine. Too short not to take that trip to Paris. Too short not to have a Marc Jacobs handbag.

I was once like you. Living for tomorrow. Worrying about the future. Then my rat bastard ex-boyfriend dumped me three weeks after my mom died. Yes, he waited an entire three weeks. Quite the charmer, huh? Well, I spent quite a bit of time in the self-help section. Overcoming Anger, Overcoming Fear, Overcoming Cheating Liars Who Lie and Then Want to Stay Friends. Then I realized I really needed to overcome self-help books. I achieved this with retail therapy. And vodka. I've been much happier ever since. Am I still bitter? Oh, hell yeah. The Universe clearly hates me! I'm stuck in a job I loathe and the ex still insists on being friends--whatever that means, but you know what? I'm going to Paris with my new Marc Jacobs bag next month and I expect to drink a lot of very expensive wine.