feast, meet face-hole

Happy Turkey Eve, bitches!

My one request on this weekend of thanks - really go for it. No half-ass gratitude in this house. It's too easy to bust out a pre-packaged "I'm thankful foooooooooor....healthandhappinessandfamilyAMEN, pass the rolls!"

This is the equivalent of people who write "hanging out with friends" and "listening to music" when they're supposed to describe their interests.


C'mon. Take a second. You can do better than that. What moments make you feel alive? Who makes you laugh so hard you snort? What opportunities have you been given that changed the course of your journey?

You don't have to tell me. You don't have to tell anyone, for that matter. But somewhere between the hugs and the stuffing and the football just be sure you're giving a mental hat-tip to the things in life that make it worth living.

Namaste my lovelies....may you eat mashed potatoes till you puke.



things my friends say, vol. 7

Today's nugget compliments of:

"I had the bacon ice cream last time. You would hate it. I want to fuck it."

I have no doubt that this statement is entirely factual.


everyone loves a quickie

A quick n' dirty post as we round the corner toward turkey time...

**I'm only working three of the next ten days. That, friends, is a favorable percentage.

**Yogurtland just started offering peppermint frozen yogurt. It should offer you a smoke and a ride home afterward. It's that good in the mouth.

Gratuitous holiday tie-in? You betcha.

**It's t-minus one hour until I leave for a long weekend in Arizona, and I'm chomping at the bit. I'm long overdue to get the fuck out of Dodge. Every time I visit the Grand Canyon State it's a delightfully messy hodgepodge of intoxication and cacti.

role model.

**I love Thanksgiving. I love turkey and football and naps and looking at the ads even though there's not a snowball's chance in hell of me going to a mall the day after. Can't WAIT.

no words.

One week till the holiday season kicks off my friends...start building your tolerance now if you're ever going to make it through six weeks of family time.



lessons from the fluff and fold

I'm always a bit apprehensive when I feel compelled to write after midnight. You know that trepidation you get when your phone rings in the middle of the night? Like you just know it's not going to be good, because happy topics wait for daylight?

It's similar but not exactly like that.

I've been meaning to write. I really have. Insightful things, transparent things, and all things in between. In the past, oh, week or so, I've been kicking around posts on:

  • hiking
  • how every liquor label releases a new ad campaigns for the holidays
  • things I find funny about straight porn
  • my not-entirely-serious Christmas list
  • motivation
  • the new color scheme of our apartment building (hint: metallic silver and lavender)
  • the means justifying the end

You thought I was kidding, but scatterbrained folk need never exaggerate.

The problem, or part of the problem if it's really a problem, is this random list my roommate dearest found on the interwebs and emailed me about being a better writer. On one line it says to write everyday, but then on another line it says to only write about things you find interesting, because if you're bored, your audience will be too.

I am simply not interesting everyday. Conundrum.

However I do start to feel guilty if I allow for cobwebs to grow on el bloggo, not because I'm delusional enough to think I might miss posting the one day a powerful literary agent goes trolling through the riffraff, but because you can't win if you don't play and this tiny corner of my life is one of few where I'm allowed total control.

Some of those other bullet points, I haven't given up on them yet. But tonight, for whatever reason, this is the last thought on my mind:

I'm thinking about the guy who works at my cleaners, who shall remain nameless because I know him only as Dry Cleaning Guy. He works in the middle of Hollywood, sandwiched between a Subway and a rocking chair store that never actually seems to be open, his every day spent looking across a tiny strip mall parking lot out to stalled traffic on La Brea. This man is happy. And not the forced, I-will-get-fired-if-I-don't-greet-you sort happy. Genuinely excited about life. Every time he gives me my pick-up ticket, me or anyone else for that matter, he presents it like some form of sacred scroll, using both hands like an offering, slightly bowed, not aiming for comedy but sincerely grateful to be handing over the ticket that will eventually allow your slacks back into your possession. Every single time. And every single time I think to myself...I hope I'm on track for that kind of happiness.

I like to think I am.
And hopefully you are too.


when LA doesn't suck (it can happen!)

This is going to be real quick-like, because I'm swamped at work and actually doing my job.

I know....right?

I've been kind of a headcase monster grumpy twat all week, for no real reason. Disturbance in the universal force, to be sure. Funky vibes. Bad juju if you will. However today was pretty good all around, a definite improvement at the very least. And as I was negotiating usage on a German newspaper ad (wtf?), I looked out my office window and saw this:

Call me crazy, but I think this is the universe's way of saying no worries...we're all good here.


bah humbug

I was all ready to be a Perky Peter today, and now the accounting woman tells me I'm out of vacation days for the rest of the year.


This is the hard part about working for small company, owned by people you legitimately enjoy. I've worked for numerous evil corporations and it's simple to trash their policies and procedures, mostly because they're put into place by heartless cyborgs you'll never meet. I used to steal extra orange aprons from Home Depot simply because they acted as if they were made of precious metals and they'd shit a goat if one went missing. Reason being, some random smart ass would put one on and tell people that lumber was free today, or to use the saws themselves, etc.

I envied those smart-asses.
I used to hide aprons between the bags of manure to make them think impostors were afoot.

But I like my current bosses, and I just can't bring myself to rip on them. Instead I'll take my bitter spoonful of reality and I'll swallow it right down.

For the record, it's not like I went nuts and spent 2009 jet-setting between my homes in Barbados and the damned Alps. I took five days off. FIVE. Still, I had, oh, 3-5 days I was planning on taking off between now and 2010, but the rent, she doesn't pay herself, so now I'm in a pickle.

This woman wants to kill herself.
I can't say I blame her.

Weirdest part? For as poor as I am, I would take more vacation over higher pay without hesitation. Money just come and goes before I even really see it, and I'm quite skilled at living one bad month away from the poverty line. Time, on the other hand....when she sent me the list of days I took off this year, I can instantly remember the family or friend (is there a difference?) I went to see, what we did, and why we did it. And I wouldn't trade any of those moments for the world. Because, to steal the quote:

"It came without ribbons!

It came without tags!

It came without packages, boxes, or bags!"

Love those moments friends, whenever you can have them -



things my friends say, vol. 6

Tonight's nugget, compliments of:

"Imbalanced is the new stable"

Ain't that the truth. It's also the reason I'm lacking on the blog front. I had every intention of posting something to brighten your evening, but since I've been home I've cleaned out my closet, eaten half the fridge, and inexplicably teared up during TV commercials. If someone wants to call the Guinness Book, I'm pretty sure in the past twelve hours I've grown a uterus.

Keep it crazy, friends. Hopefully tomorrow I'll be sailing on the sea of sanity.



things my friends say, vol. 5

Today's nugget is compliments of:

"I think 1:11pm is an entirely appropriate time for a booty text. Might as well put it out there before anyone's night gets busy."

A good friend will, without hesitation, always rationalize your shameless afternoon attempt at ending a dry spell. Fact.


the choosiest choice of all

Interesting thought courtesy of cable news....

It being election night and all, Anderson Cooper is on CNN being all knowledgeable and silver foxy, revving my engine whilst discussing New Jersey's new fat governor and other things I moderately care about.

speaking of inflation....purrrrr

AC's wild sex appeal aside, he said something that intrigued me. Regarding health care being all FUBAR and contentious blah blah blah, he said something that I find to be true on every level of existence: we take care of things that are important to us.

His point? After the planes and the bombs and the towers, we were all fired up and "fuck you, sandy countries!" This war, these wars, years down the line, we've pumped so much money into them it sounds like Dr. Seuss describing the budget: kublooions and bagrillions on troops, tanks and more!" But many act as though we couldn't find a dime in the couch cushions to fix health care.

And this isn't a political commentary. I'm not pro or anti war. Point is, there's money. Where it goes depends on what we deem important.

Kind of applicable to all situations, no? We make it work when we need to. Whether we're aware of it or not, we have a set of priorities. Some areas of life get love, and some get the one night stand treatment. No really, it was great. Of course you're important to me. We'll stay in touch.

And you mean it....at the time.

It's a big theme in my life lately, and maybe yours too. Like my old man would say, excuses are like assholes; everybody has one. I'm as guilty as the next guy of cutting myself a little too much slack. And while it's not always appropriate to call out other people, you can always call out yourself. Don't blame distant friends when you don't pick up the phone. Don't blame the weather, is all its innocence, for your mood. You choose to work out or eat, to invest or to spend, to speak up or stay silent. And it's always just that...your choice.

That's all. Just make peace with your priorities, and know you have more control over them than you probably realize.

Namaste, my lovelies -