Final descent

The descent of the Gods into the city of Angels.....



Ahhhhhhh.....I've been wearing short-sleeves and light sweaters since Saturday morning. I forget what if feels like to be back in my summer skin. I'm in LA for a week visiting Stasy and annoying her every time we pass some celeb-worthy spot. "HEY! WE JUST WALKED RIGHT PAST THE IVY! Its REALLY small.....and dark." "Lisa Kline? Kitson? Fred Segal? I'm dying here!!" The worst was when we were driving down Melrose (I know, how LA do I sound) headed to Robertson Blvd and we passed a Marc by Marc Jacobs store. Anyone who remotely knows me knows that I LOVE me some Marc Jacobs. I think I might have screamed, gasped, pointed, and yelled - or a combination of all these things. The look on Stasy's face said it all......c'mon. So of course we had to go and of course they didn't have either of the two sweaters I've been coveting.

But it hasn't been all bad luck here in LA. In fact, I've been having great luck in the city of Angels. We had decided we wanted to try and see Wicked, the musical, but it was all sold out. So we went to the theater Saturday morning to wait in line for a ticket lottery they have for every showing. You have half an hour to write your name down on a paper and put it in the barrel. Then you wait half and hour and they begin the lottery. 13 names are called and given front row tickets for $25 cash. There were roughly 250 people there, Stasy claims 300, and my name was the 11th called. I WON!!!!!!! So two hours later we were on the front row where you could see the spit flying out of the performers mouths, like a video of a slow motion sneeze. It was an amazing show! I've never been that into musicals but I loved it! It was funny and smart and their voices were ridiculous.....it was.....wicked. Afterwards we did a little shopping, a little eating, a little conversating and had quite the enjoyable day. Not bad for my first day of vacay.

Going back into the closet

I talked on the phone last night in my closet.  I haven't done that since who knows when.  It was a mixture of reasons; part my dad down the hall, part sensitivity of information and part I'd never sat in that closet before.  It was kind of nice actually.  There was a nice big box to sit on from where I could survey the contents of that particular closet.  I have a lot of sweatshirts.  All organized by color.  It felt almost like I had found the secret compartment of the house like a secret wardrobe minus the fur coats and the Narnia.  So I stayed in the closet for a while for a mixture of reasons; part the mysterious nature of it all, part being comfortable already, part loving the feeling of being cozy, and part realizing that the opportunity to just sit in a closet doesn't come along that often.  I feel like the last time I spent a significant amount of time in a closet I was at my elementary friend Jenna's house up to no good.  For some reason we decided (and it was probably me doing all the deciding) that we should get crayons and markers and leave our mark.  So we stayed in her closet for quite a while making beautiful cave-like sketches of water buffalo and wolves on the hunt - when it was actually our names and some stupid flowers and hearts.  It felt so liberating to be able to draw directly on the wall, something that would never fly at my house and probably not at Jenna's - but I didn't stick around to find out.  

I never got to do anything creative to my room.  If I wanted to put something up on the wall it had to be put up with plasti-tack or it wasn't going up.  Painting our rooms anything other than white was unacceptable.  So throughout the years I came up with some genius redesigns for my walls that always got vetoed; the giant Chinese dragon taking up one wall that I was going to paint, the floor to ceiling picture wallpaper of the beach to go with my sand colored carpet, having someone tag my name with spray paint on one huge wall, bright blue paint, etc.  As you can tell I went through some very distinct design phases.  And because none were ever approved the most action my walls saw was a poster of Blur (my favorite band throughout high school), a poster of a flamenco dancer with my name on it from Spain and a poster my brother gave me with a cat with messy fur that read, "bad hair day".  To this day I fear being able to decorate my own home.  I don't know if I'll be able to pull together an entire dwelling.  If not, I know that at least I'll feel at home in the closet. 

A day late, a dollar short

Don't you hate that feeling when you find just the thing you were looking for after the fact? Like rummaging through your closet looking for your bracelet with spikes from High School for a theme party and you don't find it until 1 month later? Or trying to rid your room of that awful smell before company comes over and only after they've left you discover the taco your friend Cherie left under your bed....a week ago? I hate that - especially seeing what the taco looks like up close. Well, I had such a moment last night as I was passing through my iTunes library. My eye happened to catch a song entitled "What's a yule log?". I don't really know I thought to myself and double clicked. I was not ready for the magic that came floating towards my ears courtesy of my computers speakers. I wanted to put the song directly on my blog but everyone knows its a miracle that I can even post on my own blog....let alone add something. So the best I could do is give you a link that has the song for you to listen: http://www.musick8.com/html/current_tune.tpl?volumeid=V15_2&tunenum=10
Where has this gem been this holiday season? I don't even know how or why it came to me but I think its a Christmas miracle. Somehow in my mad music-grabbing from others I acquired this and it sat under my nose for who knows how long - too long. And don't worry, although that site doesn't let you listen to the whole song, the full version never actually explains what a yule log is - so you're not missing out. And if you get the chance, there is also a song called "Cranberries" with a delightful 50s bopper-vibe. Who says there aren't still Miracles....

Feliz Navidad. madre

I channeled my inner mermaid today and used a what do you call it? - thingamajig to eat up all my lobster tail.  But not even the lobster tails or snow crab legs could make the house feel full again.  The mini-quiches almost approximated my sister jenaper, but not quite.  I've been trying to set up a relatively normal Christmas atmosphere around here forcing my dad to turn on the fireplaces and rummaging through my moms room for my new Christmas pajamas but it just hasn't been the same.  But we made the best of it by tearing open our presents with gusto and contemplating opening jenaper's in her absence.  And even though we have an absent mother she still managed to leave her touch on Christmas.  There were the presents with no names that we opened at random and decided who wanted them the most, the bags filled with random goods like cheap knit gloves and socks and the presents that did have names that no one could read anyway.  My mom is known for many a Christmas mix-up.  In fact, it just wouldn't be Christmas without one.  There were the Christmases of old when after all the presents were open she would say, "is that all?  I could have sworn there were more presents.  Didn't you get a walkman?  I know I bought them for you guys, I must have lost them in my closet.  Guess you'll get them next year".  What?!  You can't tell us we got walkmans but have to wait another year because you lost them!!  Not fair!!  Then my favorite incident: the Christmas pajamas.  I opened my new pajamas on Christmas eve, a tradition, and decided I didn't like them one bit.  So she took them back.  The next Christmas eve rolls around and when I open my new Christmas pajamas......BAM!  The same ones as the year before.  Her defense - "Oh, I forgot.  I wondered why I had these....are you sure you don't like them?".  And then the usual mix-up as you are opening a present addressed to you and you look at her with a questioning look, "Oh yeah, that is not for you.  Did it have your name on it?  Sorry!".  One year she gave me this truly awful silver-box purse that she said she found for 25 cents.  She just laughed and laughed.  I laughed and laughed as I hid it in my roommate Jessica's room.  For the next 3 months that purse went back and forth between our rooms being hidden in the oddest of places.  I miss my mom, but I guess we are pulling through here.  And just for her I dutifully had the 24 hrs of a Christmas Story (her favorite movie) playing in the background all day.

Composite Christmas

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.  How do I know?  Because the migratory holiday worshippers are beginning to make trips to their respective winter homelands.  Yes, just like the Salmon of Capistrano, people are beginning to fight their way upstream to the spawning grounds of Christmas and New Years.  This is always a very troubling time for me as the seasons shift and so does my social circle.  Every year around this time there is a delicate balancing act of shifting numbers of acquaintances to be worked into my schedule.  Monday saw the loss of 2 followed by another 2 today and the gain of 1.  I am going to need to dust off my graphing calculator to make sure that my x and y vertices make the proper equation this time - one simple mistake in the formula and you've just missed Aunt Susan who was only here for the day.  For years I have been trying to convince my parents that we should be the kind of family who goes to Mexico for Christmas and every year I hear, "that would be nice" with no follow through.  I think my constant suggestions finally got to my mother this year as she grabbed Jenaper and headed south......way south.....South America south.  I guess she thought of my Mexico idea as just a jumping off point to start negotiations.  I didn't mean for her  to go without me.  The bright spot is I did manage to get in "I want gold, LOT'S OF GOLD" to her on their way out the door.  Well...gold and boots and fur.  The usual South American fair.  All these changes in scenery have caused me to reflect on other changes I could incorporate into my Christmas this year.  Today I decided that instead of pushing for Mexico, since that isn't going to happen, that I would focus on our meals.  Instead of our traditional clam chowder Christmas Eve dinner I am proposing another migratory animal - Lobster.  Lobster and Calamari and Shrimp, oh my!  Since our resident portion control and health foods advisor will be busy buying me gold and fur I have instituted a new Christmas motto devoid of seasons greetings and thankfulness.  Instead I propose this: "Where others skimp we splurge"!  Who's with me?

Eternal Sunshine of my spotless mind

 Inspired by the shows I watch regularly I decided to have more of what I call "music moments".  You know, where one of the characters sits on their bed contemplating that days failures (seth cohen -OC), or sits alone outside at a restaurant table reliving the latest fight with their girlfriend/fiance (spencer - The Hills).  There are always great songs playing during these contemplative moments staring into the sun that really drive the sad/confused/repentive feelings home.  I know there is really no music playing while they sit and think, unless it's LC driving to LA for the first time in her car and in that case I'm sure she was playing music on the stereo, but I like it.  So I decided to sit/lay more while listening to music and just think.  So far my favorite is laying on my bed with my feet up on the wall staring at the ceiling.  It's relaxing and Mo told me her doctor said putting your feet up helps ward of varicose veins - two birds with one stone!  Today was such a beautiful day that I decided to take my music moment outside and sit on the porch with my knees up.  The sun was shining, it was actually warm and our adoptive dog Keiko came and sat next to me.  Together we contemplated who knows what while I gave him a mohawk and then steps and then finally a heart with L+K inside on his fur.  It was nice to have a moment with something warm next to me that can't talk.  Together we soaked up the sun to Ne-Yo's "sexy love", Madonna's "sorry" and Lupe Fiasco's "superstar".  After, I had a music moment on my bed curled up into the fetal position we end each yoga session with on my right side (unless you are pregnant, and then on your left side) which quickly turned into a music....nap.  Another good option is to sit in an area of people, put your headphones in and just think to your hearts content about whatever you want while watching people walk by.  They'll see your furrowed brow, intense stare and perhaps even the teeth gripping your lower lip and know you are really feeling.......something.  Trust me, they'll be jealous.  Sometimes I have to skip a song in the rotation because it doesn't quite fit the moment, but I am slowly building the soundtrack to my life and it - is - GOOD. 

Karma Chameleon

This morning marked the fifth night in a row that I had trouble sleeping.  I've been racking my tired brain trying to figure out why.  Why? Why? WHY????  My first thought was the 65% dark chocolate with cocoa nibs I've been nibbling on bit by bit.  Could it possibly have enough caffeine to keep me wide-eyed throughout the night?  So I stopped eating it after the afternoon.  It wasn't that.  Then I wondered if it was the Tahitian Vanilla Hazelnut Yogi tea I've been enjoying as of late.  It says caffeine free, is it possible that 'ole devil of a yogi was lying to me about the contents?  It wasn't that.  I pondered the Feng Shui of my room but it seems to be in order.  It wasn't that.  Could it be my chosen pajamas for the week?  So last night I decided to try out the new L.A.M.B. sweat pants that I just got.  It wasn't that, unfortunately.  Do I have a guilty conscious?  Maybe.  Is it bad Karma?  Probably.  For what???  I had a conversation last night with a friend about this very subject.  He thinks that you should expect good things when you give them.  I don't think you should.  I think they happen, but its not an automatic benefit.  But I do think that its perfectly ok to blame karma when bad things happen.  Its time to audit my life.  Have I done something terrible lately?  Have I wronged someone and need to make it right?  I can't think of anything........really, I can't.  Let's see - I brought a sick man popsicles, I feel like Abuelas personal slave, I have filled in at work, I clean my bathroom regularly, I sent out Christmas cards, I cleaned my ears, I made a new friend, I'm caught up at school.................  Nothin, I got nothin.  Tonight I'm hoping for a Christmas Carol type miracle where three ghosts, hopefully famous, will come and show me the error of my ways - or at least a friend calling to air their grievances about me so I can apologize.  The last thing I want is another morning like today where I hear "what is with your face"?  Its tired, my face is tired. 

Boys:12 million, Girls: 4

I made a new friend today.  I just love making new friends - when it's on my own terms.  I noticed my new friend at the beginning of the year and noted that he seemed cool.  You know, you can usually tell by how someone looks whether or not you are going to get along.  I knew from his great style and the fact that he sat in the back and mostly kept to himself that we could have been great friends.  I mean, we already had so much in common what with all the great clothes and the sitting in the back of the classroom, but I just never talked to him.  To be fair, he never talked to me either.  Not that I blame him, class bro can be an everest-like obstacle at times.  But today I sat between the two and decided that it was finally time on the last day of class to reach out.  Except I just said, "hey......hi.  I've been meaning to talk to you I just never got around to it until today.  You seem like you're kinda interesting".  And just as predicted he was.  "What is that on your paper?" I prodded.  "Its Chinese" he responded.  "My phone can text in Chinese!" I said excitedly.  The rest of the class was spent not learning about the last 'Little Ice Age' but instead deciding whether I would like to die in a shark attack or from a nuclear bomb.  Bomb, hands down.  I'm deathly afraid of fish but not of chemicals, I eat those for breakfast.  The best part?  He loves to talk about China and so do I.  I don't know why, but debating the abilities of those commies (if you can even still call them that) just gets me out of bed in the mid-morning.  The only down side?  Chalk one more up for the boys.  It seems I have a tiny bit of trouble making friends of the female persuasion.  What gives? 

I'd like a free mix-in please

I have this thing lately where I like to wash down my meals with a smoothie. For most a smoothie is a meal in and of itself, not for me. It comes after the meal. Odd? Yes. Delicious? Yes. Normal? No. But what is normal anyway? I have one friend who thinks its normal to naturally wake up at 7am every morning......not normal. There is boy in my ward who must think that it's normal to pick your nose and eat it during church because he does it every week. I think it's normal to eat the sucker stick after I'm done with the candy part but some might not agree with that (I like the taste of paper). Normal is to people as mushrooms are to food; totally varied and widely disputed as to whether they are good or not. And they (mushrooms) are not good, for the record. Maybe it has something to do with my Abuela washing down her meals occasionally with a nice strawberry flavored Ensure, but it has become normal for me to whip up a quick smoothie after some eggs or lasagna as a means to wash everything down with. Something about that cold, thick, fruity elixir sliding down my throat just tops the whole experience off sooo nicely. Today I used soy milk instead of regular and it was just that more delicious. So if you want to debate whats 'normal', we could do that. But if you'd rather have pleasure that you can buy past midnight on a Saturday then come over to my house and I'll make you a smoothie - after dinner style.

Me, myself and I

I'm coming down with something. Yep, I can definitely feel it getting worse. I forayed into the world of hypochondriacs to diagnose myself this evening and the verdict is in; narcissism. Not in an 'I like to stare at my profile in the mirror' or 'make everyone around me listen while I belt out songs' kind of way. My strain of narcissism is much, much worse. I love my own blog *gasp*. I do. I read it over and over. I check for comments everyday, but I always read through it first. Its almost as if I never wrote it in the first place and when I read it I react like, 'yeah, I know how that feels'! Sometimes I read it multiple times a day. I just get such a kick out of myself sometimes. I know, I know.......I KNOW. How dare I admit it? How dare I even think it! But it gets worse. I feel bad for posts like yesterday that I feel are kind of a cop-out. Like I let my public down. Who do I think I am? My public? I can feel my head getting bigger and bigger as I type this blasphemy. I feel like I need to post everyday and I get annoyed when other people don't. I read your blog to snoop into your life and it gets difficult when there is no material provided. C'mon. I'm churning post after post out and I get nothing in return. The narcissist vein in my left ear is throbbing as I type this. If you all don't start posting more its going to explode and your blood will be running down my neck into my shirt collar. Sick. Don't worry about me, I'm getting help. I'll be taking a strong cocktail of vanilla hazelnut tea, America's Most Smartest Model and some pill the kids down the street gave me that has 'oxy'gen in it? And FYI: cold water gets blood out.

For only 3 easy payments of.....

OH the weather outside is......gross. The snow is like a great blanket covering not only the ground but my brain. I always have specific music for everymood except today which is why I'm watching America's Next Top Model instead. I'm all muddled so here is list I started a while back of the best songs for various activities - and some not so regular activities.
THE BEST SONG TO..........

1)Shower to: 'cold water'-Damien Rice
2)Belt out with an equally ridiculous friend: 'the power of love'-Celine Dion
3)Make you giddy: 'silly love songs'-Paul McCartney and Wings
4)listen to in the sunshine: 'big sur'-The Thrills
5)feel 16 again: 'back for good'-Take That
6)be torn away from your lover: 'we belong together'-Mariah Carey
7)entertain European friends(exchange or otherwise): 'filthy/gorgeous'-Scissor Sisters
8)write a paper to: 'feels good'-Tony Toni Tone
9)bond with your best friends husband: 'the sweet escape'-Gwen Stefani ft. Akon
10)just be friends with: 'thin line'-Jurassic 5 ft. Nelly Furtado
11)Pine over someone: 'damn I wish I was your lover'-The Eels
12)be moody and still want to dance: 'double shadow'-Junior Boys
13)play if you want to be my friend: 'just what i needed'-The Cars
14)feel cool around older siblings: 'denise'-Fountains of Wayne
15)act like you liked Johnny Cash before the movie: 'ring of fire'-Johnny Cash
16)pretend like you used to do coke: 'pour some sugar on me'-Def Leppard
17)wish you hadn't grown up with such an easy life: 'nuthin but a "G" Dre/Snoop
18)to start a workout with: 'digital love'-Daft Punk
19)listen to while laying on the floor: 'el scorcho'-Weezer
20)add on to your vocabulary: 'sorry'-Madonna
21)listen to after a break-up: 'ugly girl'-Fleming & John
22)not be able to stay put in your chair: 'needy girl'-chromeo
23)do your hair to: 'band of gold'-Frade Payne
24)get dressed in front of your window: 'sexy love'-Ne-Yo
25)scream along with: 'taste of ink'-The Used
26)put on in the background during a get-together: 'Irreplaceable'-The Funky Lowlives
27)take you to another world: 'superstar'-Lupe Fiasco ft. Matthew Santos
28)make depression even worse: 'breathe me'-Sia
29)reminisce to: 'hackensack'-Fountains of Wayne
30)never get sick of: 'the quiet things that no one ever knows'-Brand New
31)always raise your blood pressure, in a good way: 'like eating glass'-Bloc Party
32)feel better than other people to: 'Never win'-Fischerspooner
33)listen to on a stoop: 'lovesick'-Gang Starr
34)listen to if you ever hop on a moving train: 'the weight'-The Band
35)stare at nothing really intensely: 'motorcycle drive by'-Third Eye Blind

Fruit cake shmute cake

I had some Panettone today - ok, I had some Panettone 3 times today. I couldn't help it, it's just so delicious. For those of you not in the know Panettone is a cake like holiday bread from Italy with candied fruit zests, raisins and is sometimes glazed or not. You might be thinking that it sounds a little like fruitcake, and you would be wrong. It is soooo much more than that. It begins with the name: Panettone. It sounds like an Italian metal band and that is exactly what it is; The metal band of breads. See you have sourdough, the Bryan Adams of breads, which has a little kick to it but is still just basically white bread. There is pumpernickel, the Snoop Dogg of bread, that is really good but you can only serve at specific functions - it doesn't go with everything. Next is rye bread, the Hall & Oates of breads, that is undeniably good but you have to be in the right mood for it. We all know white bread, the Fred Durst of bread, that is alright but eventually you just forget about it for better varieties. Finally we have wheat bread, The Justin Timberlake of breads, healthy, good for you but if not cooked correctly can be hard to swallow sometimes. But Panettone is only around for the Holidays and must be consumed in large quantities while available - just like Pantera or Metallica, one song is never enough while it's on. You see, Panettone has hidden surprises inside just like Black Sabbath - I think it could even bite the head off a live bat if necessary. It looks great outside just like KISS and it comes in creative packaging like AC/DC. So go eat some and you'll see just what I'm talking about. I'm pretty sure I'll be going back for fourths!

Party over here

I went to my friends Birthday blow-out this weekend and channeled my inner junior high school girl. It was a fancy 'Hollywood' party with a red carpet leading up to the door. There were these tight circles of girls in their skanky short, low-cut black dresses everywhere and then me. I was in an electric purple dress that I found at DI just that week with a high neck, 3/4 sleeves and knee covering jersey fabric swirling around my legs. I accented it with an ivory satin bow belt courtesy of my mothers closet - and it looked fantastic. Everywhere I turned there was teased hair and tiaras atop the clusters of heads. It only helped to showcase the lovely bobby pins I had accented earlier that day with large jewels from a bedazzler kit that I used to pull back one side of my hair with - and that looked fantastic too. So there I was in my purple dress out of place at the cool kids party. I didn't know who to approach since I had gone by myself and I wasn't receiving any eye contact, at least to my face. I looked to a circle of girls and then to a group of gay men. I chose the gay men. Not just because I knew they would talk to me and maybe appreciate my dress, but because upon closer inspection I realized that quite a few of the girls there had actually gone to my high school and were just as stupid back then as they appeared now. I chose right. I had some stimulating conversations about designer clothes and doing lines of coke off the VIP table in Tao. I could only relate to one of those, you guess which. After an hour and a half of soothing my urinary tract with glasses of cranberry juice minus the vodka that everyone else was having I decided I was done. I tried to make my way out the door until the b-day girl begged me to stay for cake. I patiently waited wishing I had been able to text message....arg. In the meantime an old manager who helped fire me once upon a time came in and saw me. Brandon: tall, blond, shirt open to almost the navel, devastatingly handsome and totally gay. "I hope you don't hate me.......I was such a b**ch back then.....I'm soooo sorry....don't hate me" he kept repeating as he meandered an inch away from my face and hugged me profusely. I assured him that was not the case and snuck away. Blah. My next attempt at making it to the door was met with a bigger obstacle; party man. Mr. Clean: tall, shaved head, black knit top, over the top muscles and brandy glass filled with what smelled like red bull and something else. "You aren't leaving are you?" he sneered at me. "I'm trying to" I replied. "Stay a while longer...please" he pleaded. Curiosity got the best of me and so I stayed for a little bit longer wondering what he could possibly have to talk with me about. Not much. 28, used to do voice-overs, from Orem, was someones roomate once and likes to put his hand on my arm while telling me how drunk he is. Delightful. Finally as he was awkwardly trying to get me to give him my phone number I decided it was time to leave. Ugh. I'm not currently attending Junior High anymore for this very reason. I'm too old to be around people trying to impress each other so much. Things have gotten significantly better for me since Junior High, I'm not willing to backslide into my days of braces and dances in the cafeteria. I know who I am. I wear electric purple and I wear it well.