Saturday, July 30, 2005
the noise, the noise, the NOISE
The elephants upstairs are at it again, clomping and running yelling and moving furniture and such. Fucking disrespectful family. They still don't realize that they are living in an APARTMENT in close quarters with other people, and not on a farm.
orlando bloom
Today I browsed through an embarrassingly large number of fan sites trying to find a certain picture of Orlando Bloom. First of all, he is beautiful. Second of all, he is beautiful.
Before the big Reboot of 2005, I had an amazingly hot picture of the specimen on my desktop. Which, I know, is very junior high, but you don't understand how hot this picture is. He has overgrown hair, and is facing sideways, and has his hand in a gun shape with his thumb in his mouth and index finger pointed to his forehead, and he is looking down-ish, and wearing gray, and the back-ground is blue, and when I see this picture I just really want to bump into him on the street and have my purse fall open so he has to help me pick up my stuff and then go out for drinks as compensation and spend the whole evening laughing at his jokes and then have him fall in love with me and convert to Judaism and marry.
I mean, I know it's a long shot, but a girl has gotta' dream.
Before the big Reboot of 2005, I had an amazingly hot picture of the specimen on my desktop. Which, I know, is very junior high, but you don't understand how hot this picture is. He has overgrown hair, and is facing sideways, and has his hand in a gun shape with his thumb in his mouth and index finger pointed to his forehead, and he is looking down-ish, and wearing gray, and the back-ground is blue, and when I see this picture I just really want to bump into him on the street and have my purse fall open so he has to help me pick up my stuff and then go out for drinks as compensation and spend the whole evening laughing at his jokes and then have him fall in love with me and convert to Judaism and marry.
I mean, I know it's a long shot, but a girl has gotta' dream.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
operation train for Peru
wow, I am addicted to this exercise thing.
Yesterday, after many, many strenuous hours sitting on my couch and not leaving the apartment, I actually got this incredible urge to get up and MOVE. And so I hauled my ass to the gym (*gasp* no one is more surprised than I), where I still have two more months of membership before it runs out and UCLA takes over. I started off on the treadmill, and after my mile of running (alternating 3.7 with 5.4, 5.6, and 5.8), I realized that I was going to have to be in great shape to be able to hike Machu Picchu at altitude without troubles. So I stayed on that machine for another fifteen minutes, at a moderate pace (3.7) but at a steep incline (6.0). At this point, the sweat was literally dripping down my face and neck. I got my heart rate down, did a sprint for a minute (6.4), and walked the remainder of the two miles. Then I stretched. And then I did the bike for ten more minutes. Why? Because ironically, MY BODY WAS ASKING FOR IT.
I had that high that you get after you've been working yourself for about twenty minutes, but not working yourself so hard that you want to just lay on the floor and die. It was that feeling that I pushed myself this far, why not keep pushing? (This feeling is probably cousins with the feeling you get when you eat three brownies, and then think, "Why not three more?")
As an incentive to continue my fitness regime, I took out Augusten Burrows' "Magical Thinking" on CD from BevHillsLib, so that I would have something to listen to while running.
Miraculously, today I made it to the gym again and did the same workout BUT ADDED FIVE MINUTES OF INTENSE SIT-UPS. Am I insane, or what? (ComPLETEly insane, when you consider that in January, when I initiated my membership, I would meander around the gym trying out every machine for about sixteen seconds, at which point I would become bored and switch. My gym visits back in the day lasted a whole eleven minutes.)
I imagine that after a month of this craziness I will have the lithe, muscular body of a go-go dancer, the body I had before The Pill, but better and with boobs. As I sit at my desk typing, my stomach and sides are already aching tremendously. But it will be totally worth it, because guess what? I'm gonna bag me a Peruvian boyfriend.
Yesterday, after many, many strenuous hours sitting on my couch and not leaving the apartment, I actually got this incredible urge to get up and MOVE. And so I hauled my ass to the gym (*gasp* no one is more surprised than I), where I still have two more months of membership before it runs out and UCLA takes over. I started off on the treadmill, and after my mile of running (alternating 3.7 with 5.4, 5.6, and 5.8), I realized that I was going to have to be in great shape to be able to hike Machu Picchu at altitude without troubles. So I stayed on that machine for another fifteen minutes, at a moderate pace (3.7) but at a steep incline (6.0). At this point, the sweat was literally dripping down my face and neck. I got my heart rate down, did a sprint for a minute (6.4), and walked the remainder of the two miles. Then I stretched. And then I did the bike for ten more minutes. Why? Because ironically, MY BODY WAS ASKING FOR IT.
I had that high that you get after you've been working yourself for about twenty minutes, but not working yourself so hard that you want to just lay on the floor and die. It was that feeling that I pushed myself this far, why not keep pushing? (This feeling is probably cousins with the feeling you get when you eat three brownies, and then think, "Why not three more?")
As an incentive to continue my fitness regime, I took out Augusten Burrows' "Magical Thinking" on CD from BevHillsLib, so that I would have something to listen to while running.
Miraculously, today I made it to the gym again and did the same workout BUT ADDED FIVE MINUTES OF INTENSE SIT-UPS. Am I insane, or what? (ComPLETEly insane, when you consider that in January, when I initiated my membership, I would meander around the gym trying out every machine for about sixteen seconds, at which point I would become bored and switch. My gym visits back in the day lasted a whole eleven minutes.)
I imagine that after a month of this craziness I will have the lithe, muscular body of a go-go dancer, the body I had before The Pill, but better and with boobs. As I sit at my desk typing, my stomach and sides are already aching tremendously. But it will be totally worth it, because guess what? I'm gonna bag me a Peruvian boyfriend.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
sex in the city
SEX IN THE CITY ON CHANNEL FIVE EVERY NIGHT OF THE WEEK. HOW MUCH BETTER CAN IT GET!?
four classes of dress
- PAJAMAS. Pajamas refers to all outfits that would be comfortable if curled up on the couch. Pajamas can include pajama pants, sweats, Loungy Pants, Yoga Pants, T shirts, comfy tanks, sweatshirts, and even shorts, if it is hot. You should never be ashamed to go to the grocery store in Pajamas. One time Abbey and I walked down Beverly Drive wearing Pajamas. It gave us such a thrill because we weren't there to "be seen," we were there because it was a few blocks away. If you do this and are then embarrassed because you run into a famous person, you shouldn't wear Pajamas out.
- JEANS AND A TOP. Jeans and a Top is the most versatile of all classes of dress. Jeans and a Top is not actually restricted to just denim and T shirts, rather it refers to any sort of ensemble that is not showy or dressy. Casual capri pants, tank tops, button-down shirts, and even Bermuda Shorts are considered Jeans and a Top. The beauty of Jeans and a Top is that it can be worn almost anywhere: school, the mall, the movies, grocery stores, the couch, a dive bar, most restaurants, or your friend's house party. Note: If you have major cleavage or major stomach showing, then you are not wearing Jeans and a Top, rather Slutty, even if your bottoms are denim.
- NICE-ISH. Nice-ish is what I had to teach in this past year and hated. Nice-ish is what my proper, Southern roommate wears all the time and loves. Nice-ish clothes are Express or Banana Republic or Ann Taylor style. Nice-ish clothes conceal all your wiggly and white bits, and can make you appear far more serious than you are. Nice-ish clothes are usually reserved for work, first - third dates, Bar Mitzvahs, and Thanksgiving dinner. Anything that needs to be drycleaned or ironed is automatically Nice-ish.
- SLUTTY. Slutty is what you wear when you go out to a bar or a club or a party. Slutty can be either loose or tight, dark or light, sparkly or non-sparkly. In order to be appropriately Slutty, you should reveal two of the following three areas: cleavage, stomach, legs. If you choose to show all three, then you are actually Slutty in less of a dress code way and more of a lifestyle way. You know you are wearing Slutty if you would be embarrassed to bump into your parents or grade-school teachers looking as you do.
bone to pick
I, the Penis, hereby request a raise in salary for the following reasons:
I do physical labour.
I work at great depths.
I plunge head first into everything I do.
I do not get weekends or public holidays off.
I work in a damp environment.
I don't get paid overtime.
I work in a dark workplace that has poor ventilation.
I work in high temperatures.
My work exposes me to contagious diseases.
I do physical labour.
I work at great depths.
I plunge head first into everything I do.
I do not get weekends or public holidays off.
I work in a damp environment.
I don't get paid overtime.
I work in a dark workplace that has poor ventilation.
I work in high temperatures.
My work exposes me to contagious diseases.
Dear Penis,
------------------------
After assessing your request, and considering the arguments you have raised, the administration rejects
your request for the following reasons:
------------------------
After assessing your request, and considering the arguments you have raised, the administration rejects
your request for the following reasons:
You do not work 8 hours straight.
You fall asleep on the job after brief work periods.
You do not always follow the orders of the management team.
You do not stay in your designated area and are often seen visiting other locations.
You do not take initiative; you need to be pressured and
stimulated in order to start working.
You leave the workplace rather messy at the end of your shift.
You don't always observe necessary safety regulations, such as wearing the correct protective clothing.
You will retire well before you are 65.
You are unable to work double shifts.
You sometimes leave your designated work before you have
completed the assigned task.
And if that were not all, you have been seen constantly entering and exiting the workplace carrying two suspicious looking bags.
Sincerely,
The Management
(via Sierra)
Sincerely,
The Management
(via Sierra)
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
ambush dating
Ambush dating.
Anita came up with that clever phrase which describes the phenomenon of THINKING you are just hanging out with someone when, in fact, you are actually TAKEN ON A DATE.
why, oh WHY do I keep getting myself into these hairy situations? I HATE dating. I have never found myself actually WANTING to spend one-on-one time with an almost stranger. I have NEVER wanted to go eat dinner at a restaurant with someone who I also wanted to get in their pants. I must be reading people wrong, or they are reading me wrong, or I am sending out signals I don't even know.
At least it's not as bad as new roommate Alyssa, who keeps getting sex propositions from her best friend's boss. We've decided that she must be unknowingly walking around work with an arrow pointed towards her crotch and a sign that reads, "Want Vagina? Inquire above."
Anita came up with that clever phrase which describes the phenomenon of THINKING you are just hanging out with someone when, in fact, you are actually TAKEN ON A DATE.
why, oh WHY do I keep getting myself into these hairy situations? I HATE dating. I have never found myself actually WANTING to spend one-on-one time with an almost stranger. I have NEVER wanted to go eat dinner at a restaurant with someone who I also wanted to get in their pants. I must be reading people wrong, or they are reading me wrong, or I am sending out signals I don't even know.
At least it's not as bad as new roommate Alyssa, who keeps getting sex propositions from her best friend's boss. We've decided that she must be unknowingly walking around work with an arrow pointed towards her crotch and a sign that reads, "Want Vagina? Inquire above."
the maybe date pt. 3
This was such a date, it's not even a maybe.
I arrived and he was freshly showered in jeans and a black shirt. He took me to a cute Italian restaurant with little tables. There was some akward chatting. Then I asked about Peru and made that conversation last the entire meal. He kept mentioning that I could see his pictures at home. When the bill came, I said, "Can I split this with you?" and he definitely refused. When we arrived at his house, I said, "I'm coming inside to see your pictures." I plopped myself down in a chair in the living room. While I looked through his pictures, he moved from the couch to crouching on the floor next to me. When I was done, I announced that I had to go home to do whatever, picked out my leftovers from the bag, and stood up. He tried protesting, but I did a quick Thanks for Dinner, gave him a hug, and got the hell out of Dodge. He stood in the doorway watching as I crossed the dark street and unlocked my car, and then he continued watching in a creepy way as I started it and drove away.
I arrived and he was freshly showered in jeans and a black shirt. He took me to a cute Italian restaurant with little tables. There was some akward chatting. Then I asked about Peru and made that conversation last the entire meal. He kept mentioning that I could see his pictures at home. When the bill came, I said, "Can I split this with you?" and he definitely refused. When we arrived at his house, I said, "I'm coming inside to see your pictures." I plopped myself down in a chair in the living room. While I looked through his pictures, he moved from the couch to crouching on the floor next to me. When I was done, I announced that I had to go home to do whatever, picked out my leftovers from the bag, and stood up. He tried protesting, but I did a quick Thanks for Dinner, gave him a hug, and got the hell out of Dodge. He stood in the doorway watching as I crossed the dark street and unlocked my car, and then he continued watching in a creepy way as I started it and drove away.
Monday, July 25, 2005
rant
My roommate Miriam took her bff to Laguna Beach this weekend. She decided that they needed a cooler to bring their lunch in. Because that would be the proper thing to do. She is so manners-y and appropriate and proper sometimes, I hate it. Why not just bring your food in old paper grocery bags, like everyone else? Well she ended up buying a cooler at Ralphs.
Today it is sitting on our kitchen floor.
She also just came into the living room and announced that she had cleaned the kitchen last night and already it was a mess and could me and Alyssa please make sure we clean up our stuff. Well as soon as the My So-Called Life (the best show ever) episode was over, I went into the kitchen to see what the fuss was about. WTF. The counters were clean, the oven is clean, the floor is clean, and there are several dishes in the sink that don't have food on them but need to be washed. I was like, "Miriam, the kitchen isn't that dirty." And she comes back with, "Well, there are dirty dishes in the sink. A clean kitchen is really important to me." I answered, "I know, it's just that you made it out to seem like it was really a mess, but it's not. We just finished making dinner." And she replied again that she cares about a clean kitchen, blah blah blah. Miriam, remember how yesterday you left your steamed vegetables in the steamer on the stove overnight and then all day long until you came home? Do you remember this morning and every morning when you leave your coffee strainer and grinds in the kitchen sink? Do you remember how you took your leaky watermelon out of the refrigerator and left it on the counter for two days? Do you remember last week when you left your half-chopped broccoli on the cutting board on the counter and left to go to work?
I am a very clean person, but I care more about organization than I do about lack-of-germs. I am usually very good about cleaning my dishes. I ALWAYS at least rinse off the dishes if I am in a hurry, thus never leaving food in the sink. I sweep the living room quite often, and I rarely leave my personal crap (receipts, bills, opened mail, keys, wallet, phone) all over the living and dining room, like Miriam is prone to do. I am BY NO MEANS perfect, and yes, sometimes I leave messes.
And then....I asked casually if we are keeping the cooler, mainly because I didn't know if Miriam had bought it or borrowed it. She says no. I ask what does she mean. And she says she is returning it. And I ask to where. And she says to Ralphs. After you've used it?, I say, with total disgust in my voice. Yes, she answers, she doesn't want to spend twenty dollars on a cooler. I roll my eyes.
WHAT THE FUCK. I know I hold people to really high standards. I expect other people to follow the rules as I do, because the rules are there to protect us and safeguard us and keep most people's best interests in mind. But how can she expect me to be so considerate of her, and make sure I keep the kitchen spotless for her, and remember what she feels is really important, if she is the type of person who buys a cooler, brings it to the beach, and returns it to the store when she is done?
Today it is sitting on our kitchen floor.
She also just came into the living room and announced that she had cleaned the kitchen last night and already it was a mess and could me and Alyssa please make sure we clean up our stuff. Well as soon as the My So-Called Life (the best show ever) episode was over, I went into the kitchen to see what the fuss was about. WTF. The counters were clean, the oven is clean, the floor is clean, and there are several dishes in the sink that don't have food on them but need to be washed. I was like, "Miriam, the kitchen isn't that dirty." And she comes back with, "Well, there are dirty dishes in the sink. A clean kitchen is really important to me." I answered, "I know, it's just that you made it out to seem like it was really a mess, but it's not. We just finished making dinner." And she replied again that she cares about a clean kitchen, blah blah blah. Miriam, remember how yesterday you left your steamed vegetables in the steamer on the stove overnight and then all day long until you came home? Do you remember this morning and every morning when you leave your coffee strainer and grinds in the kitchen sink? Do you remember how you took your leaky watermelon out of the refrigerator and left it on the counter for two days? Do you remember last week when you left your half-chopped broccoli on the cutting board on the counter and left to go to work?
I am a very clean person, but I care more about organization than I do about lack-of-germs. I am usually very good about cleaning my dishes. I ALWAYS at least rinse off the dishes if I am in a hurry, thus never leaving food in the sink. I sweep the living room quite often, and I rarely leave my personal crap (receipts, bills, opened mail, keys, wallet, phone) all over the living and dining room, like Miriam is prone to do. I am BY NO MEANS perfect, and yes, sometimes I leave messes.
And then....I asked casually if we are keeping the cooler, mainly because I didn't know if Miriam had bought it or borrowed it. She says no. I ask what does she mean. And she says she is returning it. And I ask to where. And she says to Ralphs. After you've used it?, I say, with total disgust in my voice. Yes, she answers, she doesn't want to spend twenty dollars on a cooler. I roll my eyes.
WHAT THE FUCK. I know I hold people to really high standards. I expect other people to follow the rules as I do, because the rules are there to protect us and safeguard us and keep most people's best interests in mind. But how can she expect me to be so considerate of her, and make sure I keep the kitchen spotless for her, and remember what she feels is really important, if she is the type of person who buys a cooler, brings it to the beach, and returns it to the store when she is done?
sense of smell
It is amazing how evolved our sense of smell really is.
Today I went to Elat Market, just one of the best markets in the world, that is, if you prepare yourself beforehand and accept the fact that it will be so crowded and the women so pushy that you will probably exit the place bruised. But the produce, you just cannot find it any cheaper elsewhere.
They also have a lot of middle-eastern foods, like Leben yogurt. I LOVE Leben. It is one of those foods my parents only bought on Pesach. Even though it totally tastes good all year round. So today I bought two chocolate Lebens and got all excited about eating it and came home and opened the first one.
OMIGOD THE SMELL. It wasn't the normal rotton milk smell, but it wasn't the normal, sweet, fresh Leben smell either. It was like dirty socks smell. And my EVOLVED BRAIN just KNEW that this Leben was rank, even though it LOOKED like good Leben, and had the CONSISTENCY of good Leben, and so I poured it down the drain.
Today I went to Elat Market, just one of the best markets in the world, that is, if you prepare yourself beforehand and accept the fact that it will be so crowded and the women so pushy that you will probably exit the place bruised. But the produce, you just cannot find it any cheaper elsewhere.
They also have a lot of middle-eastern foods, like Leben yogurt. I LOVE Leben. It is one of those foods my parents only bought on Pesach. Even though it totally tastes good all year round. So today I bought two chocolate Lebens and got all excited about eating it and came home and opened the first one.
OMIGOD THE SMELL. It wasn't the normal rotton milk smell, but it wasn't the normal, sweet, fresh Leben smell either. It was like dirty socks smell. And my EVOLVED BRAIN just KNEW that this Leben was rank, even though it LOOKED like good Leben, and had the CONSISTENCY of good Leben, and so I poured it down the drain.
the maybe date pt. 2
shit. It just happened again. The maybe date.
Last week I went out to dinner with Wade, his sister Gia, his best friend Scott, and Scott's roommate Beliak. Wade is one of my best friends. Right now he is a guide for Outward Bound trips. I believe he is stationed in Minnesota, although last year he was doing trips in Texas. In any case, he was in LA on a break between trips to take Gia on a road trip up to SanFran before she starts college at SDState. How cute, huh. Anytime Wade is in town I make an effort to hang out with him, no matter what he is doing, no matter which friends he is with, because he is a Fun Guy and I love him.
So we ate again at fave restaurant Tuk Tuk, where the food is awesome but the lighting so minimal it is hard to read the menu. (And I'm not even exaggerating here, you really have to squint.) This dinner was way more relaxed than the last time probably because Gia was there and she was more out of place than I, or because I knew everyone around the table. This dinner was also where Wade and I decided that we were going to go to Peru, especially since Beliak piped up to say he traveled there last year and loved it and it is cheap. (Cheap is one of the three criteria in picking a travel country for me. The other two are Has Ruins and Has Beaches.)
Here I guess I must explain how I know Beliak. His fam went to Beth Am, so our parents are friends. He went to Shalhevet, so I know all his friends. He is biffers with Evan, and the three of us had hung out at Tova's party a few weeks before. He currently works at McMaster Carr with Margie. I've always known he existed, but for some reason we never crossed paths before.
After dinner I went to the Pajama party at hot friends Matt and Chris' house with Alyssa. It was meh. So I left early and returned to Wade. The crew was hanging out at Scott and Beliak's place, planning to visit their hot tub. Yummm, hot tub. Younger Beliak wasn't there but Older Beliak, who I'll refer to as Ari, was there. CLEARING UP CONFUSION HERE: Beliak is a last name. The guy at Tuk Tuk is the Younger, and his real name is Hanan. But everyone just calls him Beliak. Actually, everyone calls both of them Beliak. And they live together, which must be utterly distracting. Although I guess with each other they probably use first names. (I remember calling up Grifka in high school, and her mother answered, and I asked for Grifka, and she replied, "Which one?" and it was the first time I realized her family called by her first name and not the last name which they all share.)
A few days later, while finalizing plane tickets on the phone, Wade asks me what he should do if someone asks for my number. Like if he is allowed to give it out. I was like, who wants it? But he didn't want to tell me. So I said, sure, give it out, I can always ignore them on my phone. Then I made him tell me that it was Beliak. I was like, oh, whatever, that's fine. But also half of my brain was saying shit shit shit shit shit. This was not Beliak getting my phone number so we could Hang Out, this was getting my phone number so we could GO Out, because why else would Wade be all weird about it? There must have been some sort of conversation. Here is where I got a bit nervous, because I really wanted Beliak to be a New Friend but I REALLY didn't want him to be interested in me.
A few days ago he called and I invited him to Nicole and Matt's party because it seemed like a casual thing and I knew he would know people there. We hung out a little, but then I ditched him, was was totally OK because he did, in fact, know other people. When I left I told him we should hang out next week so that he could tell me about Peru. I on purpose used the phrase "hang out" and "tell me about Peru" so that he WOULDN'T think I wanted a date, although looking back through his eyes I could have been using that as an excuse. And then what popped out of my mouth next Shit shit shit shit shit. I actually said, "And then we can hang in your jacuzzi." In my defense, I really did want to hang out in his jacuzzi, but only for the restorative properties of really hot water, not at all for the romantic atmosphere. Shit shit shit. Way to go, Deens.
Tonight he called up and this is how the conversation went:
Him (B): Hey. How are you? or something
Me (A): Fine, and you? or something
B: What's up? or something
A: blathering about what I did this weekend. I am so good at talking about myself.
blah blah blah. On to the crucial part:
B: So, you want to do something this week?
A: Umm, Sure. I am still thinking about him telling me about Peru. Maybe I'll come over and we'll eat cookies and he'll show me his picture album and I'll take notes.
B: How's Tuesday night? We could go out to eat or maybe something later.
A: OK. What time? Well maybe he'll just tell me about the trip and afterwards we can go through his pictures.
B: I'm working 'till 7:30
A: That's fine, what do you want to do?
B: Well, I was thinking we could go to the Pier, or something.
A: I am suddenly realizing that he is meaning for this to be a date. Shit. Um, how about we eat something instead? Shit shit shit shit shit
B: OK.... there's umm, do you like Italian? There's this Italian place near my house.
A: Brain is going crazy trying figure out how to make this maybe date less of a date. How about...I'll just come over to your house. Then maybe....maybe what? I'll refuse to leave unless it's to In 'n' Out?
B: OK, that's fine.
A: At like 7:30. Shit.
B: OK.
A: See you then.
B: Bye.
CRAP.
Last week I went out to dinner with Wade, his sister Gia, his best friend Scott, and Scott's roommate Beliak. Wade is one of my best friends. Right now he is a guide for Outward Bound trips. I believe he is stationed in Minnesota, although last year he was doing trips in Texas. In any case, he was in LA on a break between trips to take Gia on a road trip up to SanFran before she starts college at SDState. How cute, huh. Anytime Wade is in town I make an effort to hang out with him, no matter what he is doing, no matter which friends he is with, because he is a Fun Guy and I love him.
So we ate again at fave restaurant Tuk Tuk, where the food is awesome but the lighting so minimal it is hard to read the menu. (And I'm not even exaggerating here, you really have to squint.) This dinner was way more relaxed than the last time probably because Gia was there and she was more out of place than I, or because I knew everyone around the table. This dinner was also where Wade and I decided that we were going to go to Peru, especially since Beliak piped up to say he traveled there last year and loved it and it is cheap. (Cheap is one of the three criteria in picking a travel country for me. The other two are Has Ruins and Has Beaches.)
Here I guess I must explain how I know Beliak. His fam went to Beth Am, so our parents are friends. He went to Shalhevet, so I know all his friends. He is biffers with Evan, and the three of us had hung out at Tova's party a few weeks before. He currently works at McMaster Carr with Margie. I've always known he existed, but for some reason we never crossed paths before.
After dinner I went to the Pajama party at hot friends Matt and Chris' house with Alyssa. It was meh. So I left early and returned to Wade. The crew was hanging out at Scott and Beliak's place, planning to visit their hot tub. Yummm, hot tub. Younger Beliak wasn't there but Older Beliak, who I'll refer to as Ari, was there. CLEARING UP CONFUSION HERE: Beliak is a last name. The guy at Tuk Tuk is the Younger, and his real name is Hanan. But everyone just calls him Beliak. Actually, everyone calls both of them Beliak. And they live together, which must be utterly distracting. Although I guess with each other they probably use first names. (I remember calling up Grifka in high school, and her mother answered, and I asked for Grifka, and she replied, "Which one?" and it was the first time I realized her family called by her first name and not the last name which they all share.)
A few days later, while finalizing plane tickets on the phone, Wade asks me what he should do if someone asks for my number. Like if he is allowed to give it out. I was like, who wants it? But he didn't want to tell me. So I said, sure, give it out, I can always ignore them on my phone. Then I made him tell me that it was Beliak. I was like, oh, whatever, that's fine. But also half of my brain was saying shit shit shit shit shit. This was not Beliak getting my phone number so we could Hang Out, this was getting my phone number so we could GO Out, because why else would Wade be all weird about it? There must have been some sort of conversation. Here is where I got a bit nervous, because I really wanted Beliak to be a New Friend but I REALLY didn't want him to be interested in me.
A few days ago he called and I invited him to Nicole and Matt's party because it seemed like a casual thing and I knew he would know people there. We hung out a little, but then I ditched him, was was totally OK because he did, in fact, know other people. When I left I told him we should hang out next week so that he could tell me about Peru. I on purpose used the phrase "hang out" and "tell me about Peru" so that he WOULDN'T think I wanted a date, although looking back through his eyes I could have been using that as an excuse. And then what popped out of my mouth next Shit shit shit shit shit. I actually said, "And then we can hang in your jacuzzi." In my defense, I really did want to hang out in his jacuzzi, but only for the restorative properties of really hot water, not at all for the romantic atmosphere. Shit shit shit. Way to go, Deens.
Tonight he called up and this is how the conversation went:
Him (B): Hey. How are you? or something
Me (A): Fine, and you? or something
B: What's up? or something
A: blathering about what I did this weekend. I am so good at talking about myself.
blah blah blah. On to the crucial part:
B: So, you want to do something this week?
A: Umm, Sure. I am still thinking about him telling me about Peru. Maybe I'll come over and we'll eat cookies and he'll show me his picture album and I'll take notes.
B: How's Tuesday night? We could go out to eat or maybe something later.
A: OK. What time? Well maybe he'll just tell me about the trip and afterwards we can go through his pictures.
B: I'm working 'till 7:30
A: That's fine, what do you want to do?
B: Well, I was thinking we could go to the Pier, or something.
A: I am suddenly realizing that he is meaning for this to be a date. Shit. Um, how about we eat something instead? Shit shit shit shit shit
B: OK.... there's umm, do you like Italian? There's this Italian place near my house.
A: Brain is going crazy trying figure out how to make this maybe date less of a date. How about...I'll just come over to your house. Then maybe....maybe what? I'll refuse to leave unless it's to In 'n' Out?
B: OK, that's fine.
A: At like 7:30. Shit.
B: OK.
A: See you then.
B: Bye.
CRAP.
the maybe date pt. 1
I have this thing where the only way I will make a new male friend is In Context, ie I work with them or they are a friend-of-a-friend and the group of us has hung out together a lot. For example, Ezra and Ariel are work friends. BJ has now become a friend-of-a-friend friend because of all the time he has come to the apt to hang with Miriam and the three of us have talked. BUT. A guy randomly trying to be my friend? Clearly he is interested, in the more-than-friends way. At least in my head. Because in my head, why would a guy want a female friend? They don't. And that makes me tres uncomfortable. And so I automatically reject them if they make any sort of move in that direction before they are comfortably In Context friends.
The last time Wade came to LA was I think over Pesach, and I joined his dinner party "with the boys" at Tuk Tuk. In attendance were Scott (who is crazy and completely harmless and seems to not have any game and so I am very comfortable with), Scott's ex Piper (apparently there is a long and drawn-out story but I don't care), Nate Smith, Crazy Jeff, and Matt Janoll (sp?) aka Uncle Che. (Wade and Scott are awesome and generous with their nicknames.) I felt really uncomfortable and out of my element, though, because I barely knew the others, even though Wade was doing a great job of talking to me. I ended up talking a lot to Matt, who happened to be sitting across from me. I basically chatted him up over my favorite topic of conversation: me. I can talk about myself for hours. I love to talk about myself. It's because I actually like me and happen to think I am quite interesting. And I tell good stories that are partially self-deprecating so that my audience FALLS IN LOVE WITH ME. In this case, though, I SWEAR I was not trying to flirt with Matt; I was just trying to pass the time until dinner was over.
I ended up inviting him to Shabbat dinner at our apt that week, because I was really proud that we were hosting a dinner finally, and I wanted to look like a nice person, even though I TOTALLY didn't care if he came or not. I know this sounds awful of me, but I pride myself on no bullshitting so that I don't have to bullshit further. You know, as soon as you fake heLLO! how ARE you?!?! someone, you have to sit and listen and pretend to CARE how they are, even though you'd rather be shaving your legs. So as soon as the invitation left my lips I was mentally hitting my head with a hammer. Obviously he accepted. And obviously when he showed up at dinner I had to babysit and I HATE BABYSITTING. I was still being my charming self, however, because there were other people in attendance who didn't know him, and it would have been flat out rude if I was miffing him at my own dinner. And, to be honest, he was kinda funny.
After that dinner, the roommates invited him to the party we were throwing that weekend. I did a horrible job of being his friend by completely ignoring him after the initial hello and spending all night flirting with Abbey's friends. (This was the party that I didn't know was a party, so he turned out to be one of three people I knew, which made it PRETTY DAMN EXHAUSTING avoiding him.) At this point, I realized, shit, he likes you, and you are not into it.
THEN I bumped into him AGAIN at Jenny and Aaron's wedding (there are only four Jews) and of course he came and talked to me. Shit shit shit shit shit. He asked for my number and there was nothing I could do but give it to him. Over the next few weeks he called me a bunch of times and sometimes I answered and we chatted and I found some way to get off the phone. He eventually stopped calling. So that was the maybe date that almost but never was.
(Funny story-- at the wedding I was sitting next to Lucy's husband, who I had just met. Sometime during dinner this guy who is Abbey's friend came over and asked for our number, so that he could call Abbey. A few minutes later Matt came over to ask for my number. Lucy's husband was (mistakenly) impressed at my popularity.)
The last time Wade came to LA was I think over Pesach, and I joined his dinner party "with the boys" at Tuk Tuk. In attendance were Scott (who is crazy and completely harmless and seems to not have any game and so I am very comfortable with), Scott's ex Piper (apparently there is a long and drawn-out story but I don't care), Nate Smith, Crazy Jeff, and Matt Janoll (sp?) aka Uncle Che. (Wade and Scott are awesome and generous with their nicknames.) I felt really uncomfortable and out of my element, though, because I barely knew the others, even though Wade was doing a great job of talking to me. I ended up talking a lot to Matt, who happened to be sitting across from me. I basically chatted him up over my favorite topic of conversation: me. I can talk about myself for hours. I love to talk about myself. It's because I actually like me and happen to think I am quite interesting. And I tell good stories that are partially self-deprecating so that my audience FALLS IN LOVE WITH ME. In this case, though, I SWEAR I was not trying to flirt with Matt; I was just trying to pass the time until dinner was over.
I ended up inviting him to Shabbat dinner at our apt that week, because I was really proud that we were hosting a dinner finally, and I wanted to look like a nice person, even though I TOTALLY didn't care if he came or not. I know this sounds awful of me, but I pride myself on no bullshitting so that I don't have to bullshit further. You know, as soon as you fake heLLO! how ARE you?!?! someone, you have to sit and listen and pretend to CARE how they are, even though you'd rather be shaving your legs. So as soon as the invitation left my lips I was mentally hitting my head with a hammer. Obviously he accepted. And obviously when he showed up at dinner I had to babysit and I HATE BABYSITTING. I was still being my charming self, however, because there were other people in attendance who didn't know him, and it would have been flat out rude if I was miffing him at my own dinner. And, to be honest, he was kinda funny.
After that dinner, the roommates invited him to the party we were throwing that weekend. I did a horrible job of being his friend by completely ignoring him after the initial hello and spending all night flirting with Abbey's friends. (This was the party that I didn't know was a party, so he turned out to be one of three people I knew, which made it PRETTY DAMN EXHAUSTING avoiding him.) At this point, I realized, shit, he likes you, and you are not into it.
THEN I bumped into him AGAIN at Jenny and Aaron's wedding (there are only four Jews) and of course
Sunday, July 24, 2005
the crazy Italian strikes again
March 10-12: We actually hang out. (And make out a little.)
March 13: Italian Boy leaves the country for Spain. And then eventually for Italy.
March 15-April 1: Italian Boy sends me 5 emails. I only respond to the first one.
2 emails are sent afterwards, printed here in their entirety:
--------------
April 1: "i m browsing through internet i m remembered of u..
well i m too polite to write swear words so find by yourself one wear for u...
ok i give u a little help..
think the female of the dog....
u got it eheh!
take care"
--------------
July 24: "it was a pity u turned to be a jackass, i m working in florence right now i ll
guest a couple of american friends this summer... "
March 13: Italian Boy leaves the country for Spain. And then eventually for Italy.
March 15-April 1: Italian Boy sends me 5 emails. I only respond to the first one.
2 emails are sent afterwards, printed here in their entirety:
--------------
April 1: "i m browsing through internet i m remembered of u..
well i m too polite to write swear words so find by yourself one wear for u...
ok i give u a little help..
think the female of the dog....
u got it eheh!
take care"
--------------
July 24: "it was a pity u turned to be a jackass, i m working in florence right now i ll
guest a couple of american friends this summer... "
totally tentative, totally flexible, partial itinerary of trip
DAY ONE: arrive in Lima at the butt crack of dawn. Find Deens dead asleep hunched over her luggage in the terminal. Scare the shit out of her when Wade wakes her up. Find a hostel, walk around with jaws dropped in city center. See pretty buildings, churches, museums.
DAY TWO-FOUR: leave Lima going south. This way we can return to Lima after Machu Picchu and do "civilized" things like shop and eat at tables. Possible things to stop on our way down: Chilca, where they have a mineral-rich lagoon; Pisco-Paracas, where they have a lovely national reserve park and you can take a boat out to Islas Ballestas and see wild animals and guano, yes guano, which is one of their NATIONAL EXPORTS; Ica, where there is a cool city and neat museums that showcase "scarily well-preserved mummies of everything from children to a small macaw, trepanned skulls and shrunken trophy heads, enormous wigs and tresses of hair, plus a fascinating scientific display on what can be discovered from examining the skeletal remains" HOW FUCKING AWESOME; Huacachina, which is that lagoon oasis in the middle of sand dunes where you can sand-board; Nazca, where there are those cool lines etched in the ground that you can see from an airplane (or from here); Sacaco, a beach made with crushed shells and fossilized crocodile teeth.
DAY FIVE-SIX: Hit Arequipa, the white colonial city at the base of the Andes. From here we can do a one-two day long mini-trek to go to Canon del Coca, the deep deep canyon. On this trek there are other cool things, like the condor watch, thermal hot springs, snow-capped volcanos.
DAY SEVEN-EIGHT: Lake Titicaca and area, plus travel time. Acclimation to high altitude. This country is huge, man.
DAY NINE: Cuzco, the ancient colonial and Inca city. Acclimation to high altitude.
DAY TEN-FOURTEEN: Inca trail and Maccu Picchu.
Shit, we have run out of time. My plane leaves any second. Fly back to Lima. Maybe we could spend less time on the south coast. FYI it takes 16 hours by bus to go from Lima to Arequipa.
Alternatively, we can start in Lima and go immediately to Cuzco (a 30 hour bus ride, barf), do the Inca Trail first, and then meander from the southern tip back up the coast and fly back to Lima from Arequipa. Hmm. I will think about this. Although the prospect of going to a mummy museum is AWESOME, I think it would be neater to spend more time in the Andes. They are the fucking Andes, after all.
DAY TWO-FOUR: leave Lima going south. This way we can return to Lima after Machu Picchu and do "civilized" things like shop and eat at tables. Possible things to stop on our way down: Chilca, where they have a mineral-rich lagoon; Pisco-Paracas, where they have a lovely national reserve park and you can take a boat out to Islas Ballestas and see wild animals and guano, yes guano, which is one of their NATIONAL EXPORTS; Ica, where there is a cool city and neat museums that showcase "scarily well-preserved mummies of everything from children to a small macaw, trepanned skulls and shrunken trophy heads, enormous wigs and tresses of hair, plus a fascinating scientific display on what can be discovered from examining the skeletal remains" HOW FUCKING AWESOME; Huacachina, which is that lagoon oasis in the middle of sand dunes where you can sand-board; Nazca, where there are those cool lines etched in the ground that you can see from an airplane (or from here); Sacaco, a beach made with crushed shells and fossilized crocodile teeth.
DAY FIVE-SIX: Hit Arequipa, the white colonial city at the base of the Andes. From here we can do a one-two day long mini-trek to go to Canon del Coca, the deep deep canyon. On this trek there are other cool things, like the condor watch, thermal hot springs, snow-capped volcanos.
DAY SEVEN-EIGHT: Lake Titicaca and area, plus travel time. Acclimation to high altitude. This country is huge, man.
DAY NINE: Cuzco, the ancient colonial and Inca city. Acclimation to high altitude.
DAY TEN-FOURTEEN: Inca trail and Maccu Picchu.
Shit, we have run out of time. My plane leaves any second. Fly back to Lima. Maybe we could spend less time on the south coast. FYI it takes 16 hours by bus to go from Lima to Arequipa.
Alternatively, we can start in Lima and go immediately to Cuzco (a 30 hour bus ride, barf), do the Inca Trail first, and then meander from the southern tip back up the coast and fly back to Lima from Arequipa. Hmm. I will think about this. Although the prospect of going to a mummy museum is AWESOME, I think it would be neater to spend more time in the Andes. They are the fucking Andes, after all.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
love this pt. 1
"All of my regular clothing retailers (you know, H&M, Urban Outfitters... I'm suddenly embarrassed to admit where I shop, because I feel pressured to perpetuate the myth that I, through different facets of my personality, spawned my own wardrobe—or at least that I buy my clothes in places that don't appear in every mall everywhere and and don't target people younger than me) want me to look like a gypsy this summer, or an exotic peasant, or just a regular peasant. I'm talking about the skirts everybody's peasanting it up in. Even if some of the designs on them are pretty, I have an instinctive urge to boycott these skirts. I'm tired of looking at all those tiers, and I'm annoyed that so few reasonably-priced options are being presented in the face of the gypsy onslaught."
from here
from here
random things to take to Peru
guidebook
passports, tickets, wallet, etc
locks
notebook with pens
extra duffel
bug repellent with Deet
sunglasses
immodium
advil
drammamine
alarm clock
zip-lock bags
watch
cards
Set
power bars
peanut butter
nalgene
a book
first aid stuff -- bandaids, neosporine, altitude sickness meds, hydrocortisone (of which I have an unhealthy dependency upon)
swiss army knife
camera
iodine tablets
sunglasses
glasses?
towel/sarong
TP
-----------------
1 skirt
2 prs shorts
1 prjeans
1 other sturdy pants
1 pr sweat pants
4 tanks (2 of the no-bra variety)
2 t-shirts
2 sweaters / long-sleeved layering options
1 sweatshirt
1 water-proof jacket
tons of underwear
tons of socks
1 sports-bra
1 regular bra
1 pr "hiking" shoes
1 pr flip-flps? or red Crocs
bandana
snow hat
earmuffs
bathing suit
---------------------
sunscreen
deoderant
toothbrush
toothpaste
facewash
face lotion
vasaline
mascara
chunk concealer
shower gel/soap
mini shampoo + conditioner
chapstick
contacts and solution
nail clippers
retainers?
handi-wipes
passports, tickets, wallet, etc
locks
notebook with pens
extra duffel
bug repellent with Deet
sunglasses
immodium
advil
drammamine
alarm clock
zip-lock bags
watch
cards
Set
power bars
peanut butter
nalgene
a book
first aid stuff -- bandaids, neosporine, altitude sickness meds, hydrocortisone (of which I have an unhealthy dependency upon)
swiss army knife
camera
iodine tablets
sunglasses
glasses?
towel/sarong
TP
-----------------
1 skirt
2 prs shorts
1 prjeans
1 other sturdy pants
1 pr sweat pants
4 tanks (2 of the no-bra variety)
2 t-shirts
2 sweaters / long-sleeved layering options
1 sweatshirt
1 water-proof jacket
tons of underwear
tons of socks
1 sports-bra
1 regular bra
1 pr "hiking" shoes
1 pr flip-flps? or red Crocs
bandana
snow hat
earmuffs
bathing suit
---------------------
sunscreen
deoderant
toothbrush
toothpaste
facewash
face lotion
vasaline
mascara
chunk concealer
shower gel/soap
mini shampoo + conditioner
chapstick
contacts and solution
nail clippers
retainers?
handi-wipes
an exciting day of nothing
When I began this summer vacation, I was filled with apprehension that I wouldn't have enough to do to fill my days, and that I would sit around reading or watching Netflix and eating and then catch my roommate in a death-grip hug when she arrived home from work in the evening, ecstatic about finally having human contact. This thought plagued me with such dread that I put all my effort into finding activities and jobs that would fill my time. For the past few weeks I have been completely busy with tutoring, subbing at Camp Simcha, doing club OC, being an LA slut and going to clubs with Benja, teaching at Ramah, and going to parties and social events several nights a week. I feel like Glenda, with all my planning and scheduling and hauling ass across town.
IT HAS BECOME FUCKING TIRING.
This weekend marks the beginning of the REAL summer vacation, the one in which I get to sleep in at least 3 days a week. Today was my first designated Do Nothing day. I declined a trip to Laguna Beach with Meeps and her bff, as that would require me to wake up and put on a bathing suit. I also thought about walking to the library to read in an air-conditioned room, but thought better of it when I realized I would have to leave my apartment. I had to call one of my families to schedule tutoring for next week, and let me tell you, this minor task is the ONLY phone call I would like to make today.
This morning I stumbled out of bed at the ripe hour of eleven, made scrambled eggs for breakfast, ate them at a leisurely pace while reading Elle, planned some more Peru trip, and mailed back a Netflix DVD. My afternoon plans consist of reading more Lonely Planet, finishing the box of popsicles in the freezer, and perhaps applying fake tan.
I might even consider putting in contacts, although that might be pushing it a bit.
IT HAS BECOME FUCKING TIRING.
This weekend marks the beginning of the REAL summer vacation, the one in which I get to sleep in at least 3 days a week. Today was my first designated Do Nothing day. I declined a trip to Laguna Beach with Meeps and her bff, as that would require me to wake up and put on a bathing suit. I also thought about walking to the library to read in an air-conditioned room, but thought better of it when I realized I would have to leave my apartment. I had to call one of my families to schedule tutoring for next week, and let me tell you, this minor task is the ONLY phone call I would like to make today.
This morning I stumbled out of bed at the ripe hour of eleven, made scrambled eggs for breakfast, ate them at a leisurely pace while reading Elle, planned some more Peru trip, and mailed back a Netflix DVD. My afternoon plans consist of reading more Lonely Planet, finishing the box of popsicles in the freezer, and perhaps applying fake tan.
I might even consider putting in contacts, although that might be pushing it a bit.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Super DJ Deens' lineup
So last night, Benja took me and Alyssa (and eleven other random chicks WHERE DOES HE MEET THESE PEOPLE) to this place called the Cabana Bar. The Cabana Bar is one of those schmancy A-list LA clubs where you have to be on a list to get in and then you have to be on a seperate list to get comp-ed. Obviously Benja isn't on any of these lists but knows all the people working the door and so we got in for free without a fuss.
Let me preface the next part of the description by explaining that the Cabana Bar opened on July 7 with Jessica Simpson's birthday party. Last night Ashlee Simpson, Wilmer Valderama, and Kanye West were in attendance. That's the kind of place this is.
IT SUCKED.
Everyone there had this "I'm too cool for school" attitude. The girls were PUSHY with their elbows and shoulders and pointy cowboy boots (I am so not into that fad) and it took us THIRTY MINUTES to get a drink at the bar. The whole club was outside with a tiny winding pool and these little VIP cabanas around the perimeter. Which was cool, except for it was too crowded and again, let me mention the pushy girls. Usually it's the guys who are big and broad and when they walk by they brush up against me. But last night I SWEAR there was something in the air and the females were absolutely AGGRESSIVE. Bitches.
Plus the music sucked. The DJ was Samantha Ronson, who is apparently famous and good and just signed to Rock-a-fella music, but we hated her. She barely played anything new, and I would say that every other song was something I have never heard of.
So then I got to thinking, if I were DJ, what would be on my playlist?
1. At least one song by the Jackson 5 and one song by Michael Jackson from the examples below:
3. One song by a boy band that is no longer popular. Acceptable boy bands:
5. 2-3 Old School faves, from the Bar Mitzvah era. Examples:
Let me preface the next part of the description by explaining that the Cabana Bar opened on July 7 with Jessica Simpson's birthday party. Last night Ashlee Simpson, Wilmer Valderama, and Kanye West were in attendance. That's the kind of place this is.
IT SUCKED.
Everyone there had this "I'm too cool for school" attitude. The girls were PUSHY with their elbows and shoulders and pointy cowboy boots (I am so not into that fad) and it took us THIRTY MINUTES to get a drink at the bar. The whole club was outside with a tiny winding pool and these little VIP cabanas around the perimeter. Which was cool, except for it was too crowded and again, let me mention the pushy girls. Usually it's the guys who are big and broad and when they walk by they brush up against me. But last night I SWEAR there was something in the air and the females were absolutely AGGRESSIVE. Bitches.
Plus the music sucked. The DJ was Samantha Ronson, who is apparently famous and good and just signed to Rock-a-fella music, but we hated her. She barely played anything new, and I would say that every other song was something I have never heard of.
So then I got to thinking, if I were DJ, what would be on my playlist?
1. At least one song by the Jackson 5 and one song by Michael Jackson from the examples below:
- ABC
- I Want You Back
- It's Your Thang (Do What You Wanna Do)
- You Rock My World
- Man in the Mirror
- Black or White
- Bad
- The Way You Make Me Feel
- Thriller
3. One song by a boy band that is no longer popular. Acceptable boy bands:
- N*Sync (Space Cowboy, Bye Bye, Digital Get Down, Pop)
- 112 (Dance with Me, Peaches and Cream)
- B2K (Bump Bump Bump, Girlfriend)
5. 2-3 Old School faves, from the Bar Mitzvah era. Examples:
- Insane in the Membrane
- Ain't Nothin' but a G Thing
- Come Baby Come
- Jump
- Shoop
- Gin n' Juice
- Informer
- Regulate
- Rumpshaker (All I Wanna Do)
- Baby Got Back
- California Love (2Pac)
- Once Again (Tribe Called Quest)
- Zoom (Dr. Dre and LLCoolJ)
- E.I. (Nelly)
- Baby I Got Your Money (ODB)
- Ghetto Superstar (Wyclef)
- Stayin' Alive (Wyclef)
- Joints n' Jams (Black Eyed Peas)
- What's my Name (Snoop)
- Boombostic (Shaggy)
- the Punjabi song
- Party Up (DMX)
- Love Like This Before (Faith Evans with the remix)
- You Can Do It (Ice Cube feat. Mack 10)
- Lean Back (Terror Squad)
- Move Ya Body (Nina Sky feat. Jabba)
- Jesus Walks (Kanye West)
- I Like That (Houston feat. Chingy, Nate Dogg, I-20)
- Birthday (50 Cent)
- What's Love (Ashanti and Fat Joe)
- Change Clothes (Jay-Z)
- Lose Control (Missy Elliott feat. Ciara and Fat Man Scoop)
- Feel Good Inc (Gorillaz)
- Hate it or Love it (The Game feat. 50 Cent)
- So Seductive (Tony Yayo feat. 50 Cent)
- Give Me That (Webbie)
- Baby I'm Back (Baby Bash)
- the Fandango-Hangover song that we can't figure out who sings
- the Snoop song with the Wooee title
Monday, July 18, 2005
Friday, July 15, 2005
progress report
I've had here in LA a "busy summer" break so far, whatever that means. I'm tutoring waaaay more than I thought I would be, like 8 hours a week, which is NOTHING when you compare it to full-time-job and EXCELLENT when you consider it is my only income but also TIRING driving from home to home to home. I've gotten to taking a good book with me when I go out because I have to allocate lots of time to driving (hate LA) and inevitably arrive sometimes early and THERE IS NO GREATER THING than leaning back the driver's seat, rolling open the window, and reading a book. I have gotten a great many stares from weirded-out residents, but hey. I don't care.
I've also subbed a few times at Camp Simcha, which is great to do once in a while. Day camp is SO TIRING, completely more tiring than sleep-away camp, because there are no rest-hours or counselor breaks during the day. You are outside in the sun, pretending to control kids who don't have any rules (it's summer camp! no rules!), while also trying to be REALLY peppy and cheerful. I've done CITITITIT with Ariel where we hiked Runyan Canyan and went to a fire station (fucking awesome), gone to the YMCA and swam in the bathtub pool, taught mini-golf to kindergardeners, tie-dyed, and developed a crush on a counselor who may or may not be a) gay b) out of high school.
Other summer activities enjoyed have been painting my room blue, painting mom's study green, buying and watching my father assemble a LOVELY bookcase from IKEA, visiting Haley and baby Charlie in Fullerton, and renewing the registration on my car. I've read a whole lot of magazines and watched a whole lot of RENO 911 (HILARIOUS) and The OC. I've done fake-tanner twice now, and plan to do it before Ramah visitors' day on Sunday. Also, I am, of course, meeting all the hundreds of people I know in this city. Last week at Jamba Juice I totally bumped into the parents and sister of this girl I grew up with but then lost touch with a few years ago and even though her family lives ONE BLOCK from my parents and I've laid out in their backyard, I pretended I didn't recognize them and kept my sunglasses on the whole time. I don't think they even had a CLUE it was me because since high school, my hair and my boobs have both grown. Plus I was wearing my really big rock star shades.
This coming week should prove just as "eventful" as the last, including but not limited to activities such as: seeing King Tut at LACMA with Glenda and 6th grader Josh Conway, pajama party at Beautiful Matt's house, Planned Parenthood, visitors' day at Ramah, and some more tutoring. Actually, all that is happening THIS WEEKEND. I tell ya, I am a BUSY GIRL.
I've also subbed a few times at Camp Simcha, which is great to do once in a while. Day camp is SO TIRING, completely more tiring than sleep-away camp, because there are no rest-hours or counselor breaks during the day. You are outside in the sun, pretending to control kids who don't have any rules (it's summer camp! no rules!), while also trying to be REALLY peppy and cheerful. I've done CITITITIT with Ariel where we hiked Runyan Canyan and went to a fire station (fucking awesome), gone to the YMCA and swam in the bathtub pool, taught mini-golf to kindergardeners, tie-dyed, and developed a crush on a counselor who may or may not be a) gay b) out of high school.
Other summer activities enjoyed have been painting my room blue, painting mom's study green, buying and watching my father assemble a LOVELY bookcase from IKEA, visiting Haley and baby Charlie in Fullerton, and renewing the registration on my car. I've read a whole lot of magazines and watched a whole lot of RENO 911 (HILARIOUS) and The OC. I've done fake-tanner twice now, and plan to do it before Ramah visitors' day on Sunday. Also, I am, of course, meeting all the hundreds of people I know in this city. Last week at Jamba Juice I totally bumped into the parents and sister of this girl I grew up with but then lost touch with a few years ago and even though her family lives ONE BLOCK from my parents and I've laid out in their backyard, I pretended I didn't recognize them and kept my sunglasses on the whole time. I don't think they even had a CLUE it was me because since high school, my hair and my boobs have both grown. Plus I was wearing my really big rock star shades.
This coming week should prove just as "eventful" as the last, including but not limited to activities such as: seeing King Tut at LACMA with Glenda and 6th grader Josh Conway, pajama party at Beautiful Matt's house, Planned Parenthood, visitors' day at Ramah, and some more tutoring. Actually, all that is happening THIS WEEKEND. I tell ya, I am a BUSY GIRL.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
manna from heaven
Today, for breakfast, I ate an ENTIRE angel food cake. It was the most delicious thing I have ever tasted. Soft, fluffy, sweet... it was truly manna from heaven. The funniest part is that this heavenly dessert was not freshly baked, or even purchased at a bakery. No, this cake came from the FREEZER wrapped in plastic wrap because my roommate, who had baked it weeks earlier, was saving it for a party. Oops.
Monday, July 11, 2005
TV!!!
I LOVE BJ!!!!! I came home from a long day of painting my mom's study green, and on my bed was the new fall '05 TV schedule, COLOR-CODED by network SO THAT I DON'T MISS A SINGLE SHOW!!!!!! And he left a note, that sweet boy!!!!
I AM IN LOVE.
I'm going to go running. It being such a rare occasion when I actually feel like exercizing, I must sieze the opportunity.
I AM IN LOVE.
I'm going to go running. It being such a rare occasion when I actually feel like exercizing, I must sieze the opportunity.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
I take it back
So I tried to National Blvd shortcut and was pleased to end up at my front door, but damn, was that the opposite of shortcut or what. National is all windy and then Palms is actually Castle Heights and the whole thing was just waaay more complicated than Pico. Lesson learned: no more exploring.
Friday, July 08, 2005
mapquest ain't got nothin' on me
This afternoon I was driving home from tutoring new kid Andie, who lives in Mar Vista. I somehow ended up on National Blvd, and was quick to congratulate myself for finding a shortcut home which avoids Pico. (Take National to Palms to Beverwil to my neighborhood, which is Beverlywood-ish.) I really take great pride in knowing my way around LA. Granted, I've been living here for nineteen years, but seventeen of those years didn't count because I didn't drive myself ANYWHERE. Then I went away to college, bought a car, moved back, and learned me some streets. And I really LOVE when I can get somewhere new by feel alone, without asking directions or looking on mapquest. No sooner had I developed the proud thought re: National Blvd, then I ran into Overland. Which is where National dead ends.
As realized I would either have to get on the 10 west -- absolutely not an option at 5:30pm -- or turn left onto Overland -- and eventually return to Pico -- I remembered that National picked up after a few blocks on Overland to the RIGHT. Embarrassingly, I actually felt PROUD that I had figured out the shortcut again. National isn't going to be the boss of ME.
I thought I would write a little commentary on my favorite streets in LA. And by favorite, I don't mean they are the fastest or the straightest. They are just the weirdest, and only a native would understand.
*ps: when I say "LA," I really only mean the city. I'm terribly biased that way, but really, trust me on this, nothing happens in the valley. Which is what makes the faux TV drama series The Valley as mentioned on The OC all the more hilarious.
As realized I would either have to get on the 10 west -- absolutely not an option at 5:30pm -- or turn left onto Overland -- and eventually return to Pico -- I remembered that National picked up after a few blocks on Overland to the RIGHT. Embarrassingly, I actually felt PROUD that I had figured out the shortcut again. National isn't going to be the boss of ME.
I thought I would write a little commentary on my favorite streets in LA. And by favorite, I don't mean they are the fastest or the straightest. They are just the weirdest, and only a native would understand.
- San Vicente Boulevard. The correct way to pronounce this street name is SAN Vuh-SEH-nee. If you are pretending to be fluent in Spanish and saying SAN Vi-SEN-tay you are wrong. (The same property goes for Los Feliz, correctly pronounced LOS FEE-lis, not LOS Feh-LEEZ. Here in Los Angeles we only pretend to celebrate our Mexican heritage.
- Mulholland Drive. If you are from the city, you say MULholland. If you are from the valley, you say MulHOLLand.
- The most fabulous intersection in all of LA is where Beverly Drive, Lomitas Ave, Canon Drive, and Benedict Canyon meet. Each of these streets has two lanes in each directions. THERE IS NO STREET LIGHT. Here is a six-way extravaganza all about manners and playing chicken. Usually there is an obvious pattern to the order of the road, but not always. My mother will only cross here if she is next to an SUV, and only then if the SUV moves first. This intersection is so unique that comedian Eddie Izzard commented on it in the special features disc for his show Circle.
- Crescent Heights. I never realized this street was so sneaky fast when I was living with my parents over at Pico/Fairfax. Over there it is stop-lighted and stop-signed every block. But Crescent Heights above Wilshire is like SuperCrescent Heights, almost like Semi-Circle Heights.
- Olympic is always much faster and emptier than Pico, and I'm pretty sure they planned on that when they built this city, since Olympic has three lanes in each direction and means "big" whereas Pico only has two lanes in each direction and means "small." I only made this connection in April. Props, city planners, you thought waaaaay more ahead than I would have.
- Exposition has to be the lamest street there is. It follows the train tracks through the city, winding this way and that through neighborhoods and commercial areas. It is barely two lanes (sometimes just one), doesn't have any lights when it crosses major streets, and dead-ends several times. Driving on Exposition is like driving through an alley. But windier, and with less of a sense of where the fuck you are. I find it funny that this completely inconvenient road has such a lofty name. Especially, and this is my favorite part, its full name is Exposition BOULEVARD.
*ps: when I say "LA," I really only mean the city. I'm terribly biased that way, but really, trust me on this, nothing happens in the valley. Which is what makes the faux TV drama series The Valley as mentioned on The OC all the more hilarious.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
"expedit" is swedish for FABULOUS
Today I (my father) assembled the most AWESOME piece of furniture ever created. It is this bookshelf thing from IKEA (also the most amazing store to hit THE WORLD) in brown-black. It fits absolutely perfectly in between my closet door and the door to the hallway. It is so so so chocolatey BROWN. One of the myriad reasons it rocks is because it is perfectly symmetric and has all these different square shelves. Squares are awesome. Storage is awesome. I love it. And now that I have shelves again, I can walk around my room without stepping on EVERYTHING I OWN.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
a present! every month! right at my door!
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I could be eating lunch but instead I'm chasing links online...
"I always regretted not reading Salinger until I was 20, which is way too old. I mean, I can appreciate it, and I’ll always have a soft spot for For Esme, With Love and Squalor, but you’ve really got to be barely legal in order to make Salinger stick for a lifetime. Had I read Catcher in the Rye at 16 like everyone else, I might have fallen in love with it, but at 20, I’d already dated Holden Caulfield a few times and was sick of his shit." From here.
what the hell is going on?
So last night I had my second dream this week about throwing up. I woke up all panicked that maybe I HAD thrown up in my sleep and it came out in my dream. I checked my bed for sick... nothing. I checked my stomach for nausea... nothing. Truly bizarre.
Weirder than the fact that this sort of thing happened THREE DAYS AGO is the fact that actually, I haven't thrown up in eight years. I am completely phobic of vomit and avoid all situations where there might be even the SLIGHTEST chance that I might even THINK about being sick -- roller coasters, twisty roads, friends with stomach aches, hot dogs, Fear Factor, etc. The last time I was ill I was 15 and on my summer trip to Israel and I think I got dehydrated. Since then, there was one episode where I spent the morning with my head down the toilet in Thailand because my body THOUGHT I was sick out of sympathy for the sea-sick friend with me. (BTW, I have never gotten sea-sick, but I have completely panicked at the THOUGHT of getting sea-sick, and so usually I Dramamine myself just to get my heart to stop racing.) In Thailand I didn't actually throw up, but I spent the rest of the trip with an emergency bottle of 7-Up with me at all times. I know I am crazy, by the way.
Back to the dream... what the fuck?
Weirder than the fact that this sort of thing happened THREE DAYS AGO is the fact that actually, I haven't thrown up in eight years. I am completely phobic of vomit and avoid all situations where there might be even the SLIGHTEST chance that I might even THINK about being sick -- roller coasters, twisty roads, friends with stomach aches, hot dogs, Fear Factor, etc. The last time I was ill I was 15 and on my summer trip to Israel and I think I got dehydrated. Since then, there was one episode where I spent the morning with my head down the toilet in Thailand because my body THOUGHT I was sick out of sympathy for the sea-sick friend with me. (BTW, I have never gotten sea-sick, but I have completely panicked at the THOUGHT of getting sea-sick, and so usually I Dramamine myself just to get my heart to stop racing.) In Thailand I didn't actually throw up, but I spent the rest of the trip with an emergency bottle of 7-Up with me at all times. I know I am crazy, by the way.
Back to the dream... what the fuck?
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