Floss Daily

i'm moving

2006-02-26T11:40:00.000-08:00

over here

Becuase I am just never satisfied. And the grass is always a lovelier shade of green.

Dancing, skating, mansions, shopping... THIS is the post you've been waiting for!

2006-02-25T14:36:00.000-08:00

My last post was a pretty good arbiter of how my week was going. I've had better days than the last few, but to spare you a whiny, on-the-verge-of-tears post, I'm going to make this about all the things that haven't caused my nose to snot up this week.

1) I am finally all caught up on Grey's Anatomy. 9 weeks is a long time to be without Tivo, but I survived. I've avoided web sites that rehash my favorite shows; I've fled the room with my hands over my ears whenever GA, (and a bunch of other shows) came up, and I am finally out of the darkness. And oh is it good! (And ok, the thing about the old woman dying and her daughter flying in from wherever she lived with her lady-lover totally had me all asnot, but good snot). I love that Meredith is hooking up with George (at last), and that Izzie and Alex are finally getting naked in the bunk-bed room. Even Addison is starting to warm the cockles of my heart. I am totally starting to respect her as a neonatal surgeon, or whatever the hell she is. If I am ever in a complicated labor delivering a litter (as a result of the IVF I'll have to resort to as a result of my advanced maternal age), I want my surgeon to be Dr. Montgomery Shepherd.

2) Olympic skating. Yes, I like the skating. I love Sasha Cohen. I was very bummed when her long program didn't live up to the short one. She is so cute, and nobody skates like she does. She's like a graceful Gumby. And I just found out that her mother is Ukranian, she's fluent in Russian, and once acted as an impromptu translator for another winning skater at some competition they were both in. AND.... I'm pretty sure she was listening to something cool on her iPod in the workout room.

3) I got to hear these words come out of my boyfriend's mouth: "I'd like to eat some breakfast before we go dancing... "
Breakfast? Dancing? What could that mean? It means, people, that we are now ballroom dancing on Saturday mornings. We had our first lesson this morning, and I am pleased to say that we are not so bad. We only had one flaw highlighted in front of the whole class by the instructor, and it really wasn't that embarrassing. We now know the basics of Swing, Salsa and the Cha Cha. Next week I am definitely wearing heels and a skirt.

4) Skype is saving me a huge amount of money in international phone calls. David got it while I was gone so we could talk daily, and it rocks, that's all I can say. If you have DSL, and make international calls, go get it. Sitting talking to my parents with headphones on and a microphone in front of my face does unleash the overwhelming urge to pretend I am a radio announcer, but I think even my parents (who have high tolerance for my humor) are sick of my "stay tuned" and "more after these messages" quips.

5) We did lots of fun stuff with my sister over the weekend. Indian food at someplace on La Brea I can't remember the name of, Farmer's Market, shopping, plant shopping for our "deck", Venice Beach, Joan's on Third for one breakfast, Le Pain Quoidien for another. But the best, the best thing ever, was our grand tour of open houses in the Hollywood Hills, listed at 2 million or higher. My niece is obsessed with fine homes and if it still exists, is probably the only person who still watches Robin Leach's Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, and my sister loves to play the game of: "if we sold our large flat in San Francisco, what could we buy down here..." ) And believe me that number is far from 2 mill, but we thought it would be fun to go big. And it was. We saw beautiful 1930s mansions, some with their original kitchen and bathroom fixtures, super-modern "Dwell" magazine style houses with swirling 360 degree views of the city, cute Spanish "bungalows" with terracotta tiles and lots of dark wood. There was one monstrosity, a HUGE Italianate-style mansion with new construction that looked like something you'd see in Vegas. Don't even ask me about the humiliation my niece and I suffered when my sister decided to bust a move on one of the very top floor bathrooms to pee. She said she just couldn't hold it, and there was no one else up there so... Were we proud when we heard the flush from TWO FLOORS DOWN? No.

Ok, five good things is good, right? Well that's all you're getting. I'm off to the bookstore to find a new book or two, now that I am getting a pay check on Monday, and the library is just taking too damn long to procure my requests from other branches.

I know, I suck.

2006-02-21T19:18:00.000-08:00

I seem to have forgotten I have a blog. Apparently I have lost interest in prattling away about TV, cooking, and the fact that I can't afford to get my haircut. And really, I know how much the three, four or five of you miss it too. But the very fact that I am sitting here typing this instead of lying on the couch with the remote in one hand and a glass of wine in the other is true testament to my recommitment to the blogging life. Because honestly, today was a ghastly day, starting with a whiplash-inducing snap judgment about how much I hated someone I'm working with (sorry, working for) and ending with my not being able to find a basket at Whole Foods. Where the hell do they keep the baskets at the WF on 3rd and Fairfax? I circled between the two store entrances like a restless dog, and all I could see were carts. Big carts. I know, I'm not 2, and I could have, should have, just sucked it up and gone for the cart, but dammit, today I was back in diapers, almost throwing myself down on the tiles and turning purple with rage about the fact that I couldn't find a damn basket. And I think anyone who's navigated a Whole Foods at rush hour understands my inner tantrum. .

But let me back up. Yes, I have a job. A freelance, contract position at a newspaper I get. Every day. Yes, that one. I'm writing marketing bits and pieces for the ad sales department. After my last job, I never again thought I would hear a magazine sales rep say to me, "Denise, I need a piece that says....." But here I am, hearing it again. I guess I must have "publishing bitch" tattooed somewhere very visible. I shouldn't complain. The money is good, I will soon be able to justify expensive beauty treatments, new boots, and a wardrobe from THIS season, (I am well aware that I've taken the "Gaucho" yoga-pant look just a little further than the good trend-setters intended). But my god, the woman who hired me? She comes directly from Hell's Colon. Today I was on the tippy toes of having to explain the meaning of the word "complement" to her (she clearly never learned the difference between that one and the other one, but honestly, I sort of see why) and then I just found myself picking another word. "Oh Never Mind!" is my new motto. Soon I will be writing things that say "Please advertise in this nice paper. You will like it. You will sell more of whatever it is that you sell". Seriously, that is what it will come to, I can feel it now. The worst of it is that last week (when the colon dweller was on vacation) I was actually having a good time. I liked the person I was working with in her absence, and actually found myself thinking, "Huh, I could do this for a bit".

Oh never mind...

In happier news, I had the most fun weekend with my niece and sister who came down from San Francisco. It was my niece's second time, and my sister's first (not in LA, just visiting me here). My sides are still aching from all the pee-in-your-pants laughing that went on. I'll save some of that for another post, in case this is a little too much from me too soon. You knew I'd come back with a vengeance, didn't you?

The day I went to the mall without brushing my teeth...

2006-02-07T19:02:00.000-08:00

So when I'm in South Africa I always go on and on about how weird it is that I NEVER bump into anyone I know. No-one from high school, college. EVER. It's bizarre. As if my entire generation was sucked into a black hole. This has made it relatively safe to venture out and run an errand unshowered, without a lick of hair product or make up, perhaps wearing clothes you took out of the laundry basket on a whim. On my last day there I took this a step futher and actually decided it wasn't even worth the trouble to brush my teeth. (I'm actually embarrassed writing this, really I am.) Anyway, there I was, innocently dashing into the Constantia Village shopping center to get some last minute things and who do I run into? Not just any one of my high school classmates, but the one who happened to be a successful model once upon a time. As luck would have it, she still looks like a model. She had on the cutest outfit, an adorable haircut and that perfect daytime make-up look that I never seem to get right. Anyway, for just a wee moment, I flattered myself by thinking, "She couldn't possibly recognize me after all this time. And looking like this?" But she did. Oh the shame.

I'm baaaaack

2006-02-06T18:02:00.000-08:00

Wow. Two months and one week, and I'm home again. I feel as though I was gone forever, but then today walking to Gelson's and the dry cleaners and checking email and catching up it felt as though I had never left. I really wanted to blog more while I was gone, but internet by the minute and an aging computer was a tad prohibitive. But now it's a new year, and it's February already and my god, I need to update my blog. So while I have much to say, I'm going to limit it to the following:

1) I will never fly South African Airways again. Have YOU ever stopped somewhere for refueling, (say in a forsaken place like Accra, Ghana), only to be informed by the pilot that there is NOT ENOUGH FUEL available to go on to your destination? Have you? When the announcement was made, I was in the throes of recovering from an Ativan-fueled sleep and I honestly thought I was having some crazy sleeping pill dream. No such luck. The solution was a quick jaunt up the West African coast to Dakar, where it seemed they had just what we needed -- the remaining two thirds of the tank. When a 17 hour journey gets spontaneously extended by another 4, it's not a happy thing. Not to mention the panic that follows for the typical neurotic freak. Why is there no fuel here? Are they SURE there's fuel in Dakar? Will it be enough to get us there? What if there's an emergency landing in the Atlantic? Oh my god, I KNEW I should have paid more attention to those airline safety videos, instead of reading In Touch Weekly while taxi-ing to the runway.... And so it goes. But I''m home now, so obviously everything's ok.

2) If the flight attendant on my United flight from Washington DC to LA referred to the movie as "Pride and Prejudiced" ONE more time after the first 3 times he did it, I was going to smack him. Fortunately once "Pride and Prejudiced" started, he didn't need to say anything more about it, so that was that.

3) I am VERY good at crying during airport goodbyes. I'm getting weepy just writing this.

4) LA doesn't look as pretty from the air as San Francisco did. And after two months in pristine Cape Town, I could smell the pollution on Santa Monica Blvd today. Sigh.

5) My wonderful boyfriend had removed the ceiling fan in our bedroom and replaced it with an attractive light fixture. This might not seem like a big deal, but believe me, if you'd SEEN the ceiling fan, you'd understand. It's the kind HGTV moments are made of.

(he also got rid of the ugly chandelier light fixture in the "eat-in" part of our kitchen and installed some under the cabinet lights. Do you hear the sound of my jig-dancing?)

6) I need to get a job.

7) I don't really want one yet. But I need some LA friends, so that might help. But then I think I might like to try freelancing if it can pay the bills. Was I supposed to come back with some sort of career clarity? I didn't.

8) Old news, I know, but H&M is opening up at the Beverly Center. Oh happy day!

9) I didn't read nearly enough as I planned to on my trip. Not enough alone time.

10) I have found Sudoku. Seriously, that and the NYT crossword compilations were my best friends on the plane. A number grid puzzle is the LAST thing I thought I would have been into, but there you have it. 'Cause once the Ativan wears off...

Ok. 10 is a nice number. I'll write more about my trip tomorrow.

oh one more thing. My niece and sister are coming for a visit in two weeks! That makes me dance my jig a little longer.

broken patellas and more

2005-12-09T13:46:00.000-08:00

Hola kids,

I am in the other hemisphere. I can't believe I have already been here a week.

Some highlights so far: (this will be brief, it's late and my dad's computer is from the stone age)

* You know you're in trouble when, on your 17 hour flight, you find yourself seated in close proximity to the man wearing the t-shirt that reads, "Beer. Sponsoring safe sex since 1802."

* I must be a bad penny or something. On my second day here, my parents and I went for Fish and Chips at a lovely seaside spot. On the way to the car, my mom tripped in the parking lot and broke her patella. She had surgery that night and spent some time in the hospital. She's fine now, but on crutches, not able to drive for 6 weeks and somewhat immobile. While this was a bit stressful the first few days, I am now quite used to my being in charge. My very active mother on the other hand, is going stir crazy. This is a woman who never sits still. Now she has to listen to everything I say, and eat my cooking. I say bad penny because last year when I was here, my sister-in-law twisted her ankle, and my niece fell and hit her head on the piano. Never a dull moment.

* Took my nieces and nephew to see Chicken Little yesterday (not good!). Luc, my nephew wanted to see Harry Potter. He's only 6, and in South Africa the age restriction for this one was 2-10. When I told him this, he looked up at me with his big brown eyes, and said, "Yes, I know that, but sometimes they lie!" I fell asleep during the movie, and at one point my niece Chloe woke me up and promptly told me to go back to sleep, because it was a scary part. I love my brother's kids.

Argh. There's more, but I'm tired and allergy ridden tonight. Also sporting a scratchy throat thanks to my long spell in the giant germ carrier in the sky.

The days of the 540 - this one's specially for Kera

2005-11-22T20:45:00.000-08:00

So while waiting for my garbanzo beans to soften (so I can make Falafel, from SCRATCH), I was watching an old episode of Rachael Ray's Tasty Travels (does she own the Food Network now, by the way?). This episode was in San Francisco. I watched with tears in my eyes as she got coffee at the Ferry Building, lunch at the Pacific Cafe, sushi somewhere I didn't recognize on Union Square, dinner at Chow, pasta at The Steps of Rome and drinks at the Boom Boom Room. While I would have picked hundreds of places over the ones she chose, I still got a kick out of it. And then suddenly she was at the 540 Club — her recommendation for cheap drinks at a local neighborhood hang out. I began to sob! You see, the 540 was Kera's bar. During my dark days of her not having a cell phone, and me going on a date with every loser within a 10 mile radius, I thought of putting the 540 on my speed dial becuase I knew that if I needed to call her from the bathroom during one of my many awful dates, I might find her there. So Kera, darlink, your bar is famous.

The giving of the Thanks

2005-11-22T12:58:00.000-08:00

It is time for a post about Thanksgiving, no?

So, my family (sister, bil, niece) used to celebrate this day in San Francisco with friends who were Thanksgiving bullies. In a good way. Our host liked to take control of the entire menu, and the only thing she ever wanted you to bring, was yourself, and perhaps a nice bottle of something tasty. She would sometimes ask for dessert contributions, but it was never too stressful if she did, knowing full well that she would be making at least 5 different pies herself. If yours sucked, it would go more or less unnoticed by the guests polishing off the good stuff. I would usually go to her house a few hours early to help—there was something calming about being barked instructions about a better way to cut the russets for mashed potatoes, a more efficient way to trim the string beans or a good walnut to gorgonzola to lettuce ratio for the salad.

After at least 10 turkeys together, our tried-and-trues moved away to the more realistic real-estate pastures of Raleigh, North Carolina. We feared that Thanksgiving as we knew it would never be the same. As it turned out, my sister threw together a perfectly acceptable feast at the eleventh hour. We were saved! We would not be the family at Denny's on bird-day.

This year we are going to the home of some of our LA friends, where the two of us will be far outnumbered by black gay men. Lamar (one of our hosts) called me a few days ago to discuss the menu. We decided that my contribution would be the green beans, and the cranberry sauce. He muttered something about yams, and I offered to make them, thinking that perhaps there was a hint in his mention, and that he had enough on his pot-luck plate. He seemed reluctant and non-committal, so I said, "What, you don't want some white woman making your Thanksgiving yams?". To which he replied, "Well, I didn't want to say it, but since you did, yes. Trust me honey, I'll be making the yams."

Thank god. The tradition of Thanksgiving bullying continues!

From the co-habitation annals

2005-11-22T12:28:00.000-08:00

In addition to the Brita jug inertia, and my inability to effectively seal the olive oil, I have another maddening habit. This one is not new to my co-habitee, but now that he experiences it every time we watch tv together, I'm pretty sure he's added it to his list of annoying things about me.

I am a notorious multi-tasker. It is hard for me to do one thing at a time, and when I'm doing anything I feel guilty about, or anything that makes me think I could be spending my time doing something more meaningful, I try and do something else at the same time. This means that I am the worst TiVo date ever. I rarely spend an evening watching TV without either balancing my checkbook, planning menus, or catching up on the news or celebrity gossip at the same time. Now, there are some shows that don't get this kind of half-assed attention, because I am just too obsessed with them, such as The OC, Grey's Anatomy, Everwood, and sometimes the Gilmore Girls (shut up, I warned you about my WB thing). But other things, like certain reality TV shows, or Desperate Housewives, or even Lost, are definite multi-tasking affairs. Lost also happens to be one of the few shows that both David and I both watch (ok, he's also started watching the Gilmore Girls, but you did not hear that from me), and we try and watch it together. This is a typical Lost night at our house:

Dramatic music from TV....
David: "Oh my god!", or "Please!" or "What the hell?!"
Me: glancing up from the recipe book, "What happened?"
David: "Sayeed just shot Shannon!" or "Charlie pocketed the drugs", or "He's totally going to kill him"
Me: "Okay, rewind that, I have to see!"
David: Patiently rewinds so that he can watch it again, this time with the benefit of my reaction.
Me: "Wait, I don't get it?" "How did Charlie find drugs?", or "What was Shannon doing roaming in the jungle by herself?"
David: "Would you like me to rewind some more?"
Me: "No no, you can just tell me!"
David: "Why do you even care, you obviously aren't that into this show?"
Me: "What are you talking about? I LOVE LOST!"

This continues several times through the course of a typical episode. It's amazing we are still together.

My apologies

2005-11-21T17:09:00.000-08:00

For the sloppy typos in the previous post. I was in a rush to get out of the house to get a new cell phone plan. Buh-bye Cingular. Hello Sprint!

Also, I can't believe I forgot to post that my sister passed the California Bar Exam! Yay!

My weekly date with my favorite tear jerker

2005-11-21T13:58:00.000-08:00

So last night's crying moment was coma guy. But did anyone else think he looked in mighty good shape for someone who's been in in a coma for so long? You'd think it would take a bit more of a toll. I would expect some droopiness, some sagging, some grey hues, maybe some puffiness? Oh, what do I know. Moving on...

Miraculously, Addison was more likeable in this episode. Okay, part of me wanted McDreamy to barf in the Puget Sound when she suggested a sex date while wearing that jaunty newsboy hat, but somehow, at the end of the episode, I was rooting for her just a little bit. I mean he's made his decision. Since he picked her, he could start being a little less of an ass to her. I know she cheated and all, but he's decided to stay, so get on with it. And it looks like they did. In the Airstream. Just not too many more kissing scenes between those two, please? McDreamy is less dreamy when he's about to kiss her, for some reason.

I don't like Burke & Christina together. That scene a few episodes ago when he comforted her in her hospital bed after she lost the baby got me snuffling, but now I'm getting a little tired of her self-centered, hair-tossiness. And could she stop barking at everyone all the time? I mean I also enjoy a martini to ease me into the Thanksgiving festivities, but does she have to be such a Doberman on her day off with her hot boyfriend? Who can cook? (Ok, I did think her line about liquor being like oxygen to WASPs was kind of funny, I'll give her that). And by the way, I know it's from LAST week's episode, but I thought her purple sateen frock for her date with Burke was just heinous.

One more thing? What is on Dr. Shepherd's surgical hat? Do all surgical hats look like that? Little patterns and prints? Anyone?

One more thing from the weekend

2005-11-21T13:28:00.000-08:00

I had never heard anything about this book,"Ask Me Anything" or its author, Francesca Delbanco, before picking it up at the Beverly Hills Library last week. I grabbed it off the "New Books" shelf in the mood for something fluffy. Yes, it's chick-lit covering the usual friend and relationship woes, but it worked, and I found myself not wanting it to end. And I guess I saw a little piece of me in alot of Rosalie Preston's actions, reactions and logic.

And next, (for Kera and Kristin), I AM FINALLY going to read "The Line of Beauty".

Some weekend discoveries

2005-11-21T12:45:00.000-08:00

This place, just a few blocks away, that took us almost 3 months to try is wonderful. I am a big fan of little bistros with things like steak frites, and moules frites, and it was hard to top this place, a staple everytime I went to NYC for work, even I was dining alone (in fact it was perfect for that).

Le Petit Bistro was unbelievably cheap. My roast chicken entree was only $11.50. Unbelievable. David's filet mignon was $24.00. Other delicious choices at our table were the chicken in a piccata style sauce, and some tender, buttery halibut. Oh, and the French Onion Soup I ordered as an appetizer was perfect. So, the food was amazing, but the service just so-so. Our waiter that night is obviously destined for other things, and a job that requires taking dinner orders is not for him. Seriously, he came back 5 TIMES to confirm the details of our order. Dude, just write it down if you've killed a few brain cells with the bong. (Contrary to one of the Citysearch reviews, the waiters are not all French...)

After dinner, since we live so close, we talked the party into coming over to our place for some nightcaps. I learned that Baileys and Coffee is one of the best things ever. I don't know how this discovery took me as long as it did, but I am a blissful, glassy-eyed, recently deflowered Baileys virgin.

Earlier in the day I finally walked over to Cook's Library. A bookstore with nothing but cookbooks, and brower friendly, with a big, comfy couch in the window. And Saturday "open-house" treats! Pumpkin fudge is most definitely not my bag, but the gesture is lovely, I think. Anyway, this store has every cook book you could possibly imagine, and half the fun is casually eavesdropping on the conversations between the foodies and the people working in the store. One guy was telling a tale of a horrific encounter with pre-prison Martha when he worked as a stylist for a photo shoot for Martha Stewart Living. She HATED the way he did something, and apparently she let him know. So I soaked it all up for an hour or so, chatted with someone working there originally from the Bay Area, and then set off to the Coffee Bean, thinking, "I love LA!". Of course it didn't last long. At the Coffee Bean, I had to dodge a flying chair being flung by a drug-addled Mr. Crazy, clearly in need of a fix. "I HATE LA!", I thought to myself, and then remembered some of my bus rides on the 31 Balboa back in San Francisco. Okay, hate no more.

Toxic novelist

2005-11-17T15:48:00.000-08:00

So I was simply guessing that "Toxic Bachelors" was a self-help guide. When I saw the invoice attached to the box, and saw the title, I just assumed. Snap judgment queen, remember? Well I was wrong. When I opened up the package before returning it today (so that I could enclose written notice of the request to cancel my account) I discovered with horror that it's not a self-help guide at all, but the latest offering from Danielle Steele. Well now I'm definitely keeping it!

Just kidding. I couldn't get to the post office fast enough.

And after the scathing email I sent before leaving the house, I think I may be rid of them once and for all. I'm actually glad they screwed up on this mailing, because I think it finally got someone to respond to yet another of my requests to cancel. When I got back from the post office, I had a "Won't you reconsider?" email from them. Hah!

So it looks like I'm free and clear of this mistake in my life. Unless the Literary Guild takes the same approach to cancellations as Crunch, spawn of the evil Bally's Total Fitness empire. Here's how that works: You cancel your membership for the legitimate reason of relocation, they accept your cancellation (cashing your cancellation check) and then a month later start sending you friendly notices that there is a Crunch within 20 miles of your new location (in LA 20 miles could take 2 hours) and that you are past due on your account. Oh well, that's tomorrow's battle.

There's soap in my soup

2005-11-17T10:17:00.000-08:00

I devote a fair amount of real estate on this blog to yapping about my culinary successes. The perfect roast chicken, the glorious pancakes, the festive enchiladas, the scrumptious 30 minute spaghetti. But it's not always that way. While I've alluded to the fact that I am a lifetime supply of flour away from any blue ribbon awards for baking, I only talk about my cooking joy and not so much the pain.

Well last night there was pain. Last night there was frothy soup, and frothy soup is never a reason to party. I guess washing the risotto pot from the night before while enjoying a good red wine buzz is a bad idea. Unlike my talented dishwasher in residence, I did a lousy half-assed job (maybe I should learn to leave a dish or two overnight) and must not have rinsed properly. Or maybe it's because our building's solar powered water takes forever to reach a temperature suitable for proper washing and rinsing. (Seriously, we could have refilled the Ganges a million times over with our constantly running water). So I ruined the curried lentil soup. It was so obviously soapy in flavor that I couldn't even convince myself that it was just me, and that David would never notice. It was that bad. And I had a million clues from start to finish, never once stopping to think, "If I stop now, and start over, I could salvage this". The canola oil heating had strange little bubbles in it (it's just water). The onions, garlic and garam masala didn't smell like it usually does (I'm tired, and I'm imagining it). The simmering tomatoes had a ominous sheen to them (I will never buy this Trader Joes's brand again). And even after the last of the red lentils (that you can only get at Whole Foods apparently, no-one else has them) had been tipped into the pot along with a gallon of stock (at least it wasn't homemade) and a definite layer of orange foam had started to appear, I was still in denial. I let it simmer for 45 minutes, hoping that it would go away. And then I tipped the whole lot down the garbage disposal. I was so looking forward to that soup. The toast dinner I ended up having was unacceptable. Even one of the most tear-jerking episodes of Everwood ever, couldn't lift me out of my lentil funk.

But my soup pot has never been more blingy than it is today.

(And by the way, I have never made my own stock.)

Let the countdown begin

2005-11-16T14:39:00.000-08:00

Today was going to my first entirely free day since the freelance job started. By the time I had submitted the last edits last night, I thought I was really and truly done. I was going to sleep in, read until 2, go for a walk, make lentil soup. And then my cell phone rang at 8:45 with the request for one more day. Hey, it's money. I should not complain, but shit, now I'm going away for 5 weeks. I have things to do: packing, shopping, gift-buying, bill paying, library book returning, banking, finally figuring out whether I want to do COBRA vision and dental since it's not so expensive, holiday carding. aarrgggh!

And you know what else I have to do? I have to trot off to the post office to return my books from the cursed book club. The very same ones I was emailed about with the news that my "chosen selections" were not in stock. The very same ones I sent a polite note back to the customer service department about (the one staffed with trout), telling them NOT to send the books as I had not ordered them. The very same ones they emailed me back about, saying that they had received my request and would not send them. And they still showed up. In this month's selection was "Toxic Bachelors", a self-help guide for women partial to dating men who are not the marrying kind. Is the Literary Guild (literary, my ass) trying to tell me something?

Nah. But see how things have changed? If that book had shown up on my doorstep unsolicited at any other time of my life, during any one of the inappropriate relationships I have nurtured, I probably would have kept it. But it's going back, along with the other book, the title of which I have already forgotten.

And that reminds me, I need to start preparing for 5 weeks of my mom being within breathing distance of reminding me that I am not getting any younger, and that it's almost time for grandchild number 6, since my siblings have all declared themselves done (I think, but stranger things have happened).

Taming the Beasts

2005-11-15T10:20:00.000-08:00

It is done. I have departure dates, arrival dates x2, and the Visa has been surrendered. Ouch. Actually by the time I had called several "cheap travel to Africa" experts yesterday while continuing to wrestle with the $1400 cobra, I felt pretty good about only spending that much. One place I called yesterday quoted me $3000. Um, I don't think so. Anyway, considering I've made this journey almost every year for the past decade, I should be thankful that I can still get out for under $1500, right?

The other beast I've been wrestling is an ant colony. Ever since that big crazy rain a few weeks ago, they have plagued me. I've caught clusters of them in various places, but for every successful cluster eradication, another one would show up a few days later. So I turned to the faithful, trusty Internet, where the general home remedy consensus seemed to be bay leaves. Works like a charm. Ants do not like the scent of the bay. I put (an expensive, Whole Foods) bay leaf in every one of our kitchen cupboards and just like that, no more ants.

I also learned that once you've successfully located their point of entry, shaving foam does the trick. Just squirt some in the area where they're coming in, and they will be stopped dead in their purposeful little tracks. Tah-dah! I found a bunch of them breaking and entering through the top corner of the bathroom window and with one blast of Edge they were done for. Problem is that once you've dealt with the first batch you eliminate that way, you have to keep reapplying the shaving foam until they get the hint. Now the clean freak in me would rather not have to look at a big turquoise clump of frothy, disintegrating shaving foam while I'm in the shower but so be it.

So that's my Heloise hint for the day. And oh my god, this was the most boring post ever.

This was supposed to be about books

2005-11-10T22:56:00.000-08:00

But lets talk about The OC shall we? I just watched tonight's episode, and while there is much to comment on, I have to comment on Marissa's outfits. They have been going from bad to worse and tonight's rust-colored tunic that she borrowed from the Knights of the Round Table was just awful. The girl is 19, no? 20 at the most. Those boobs should not be at her waist. She's not even the chestiest girl in the world, but could someone in wardrobe get that girl some sort of uplifting undergarment? Please.

And could Casey's teeth be any whiter? My eyes! The girl needs to lay off the bleaching trays for a few nights. Maybe it was just my TV, but it actually hurt to look at those chompers.

V-racks, job interviews, procrastination

2005-11-10T12:05:00.000-08:00

It's Thursday and it's time for an update so read on.

Last night I reached Roast Chicken nirvana. Last time I used Mark Bittman's recipe and while it was delicious, I thought I'd try the Cooks Illustrated Simple Roast Chicken. Better! There was more bird-rotation involved, and a higher heat but sweat be damned! It was worth it. And i f I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: Those little v-racks are essential to any roasting endeavor. Now if I could figure out how to make gravy in my expensive non-stick roasting pan, that would be swell. Should a roasting pan be non-stick? It seems counter-intuitive to me. And it's something I should have thought about prior to purchase, but I recall my roasting pan being one of those after-work, bad day Union Sqaure impulse buys.

The 450 oven did set off the smoke alarm. And believe me, fanning the ceiling with a rolled up newspaper at regular intervals during dinner prep really takes the "forget" out of the "fix-it-and-forget-it" concept, but I am learning, slowly, that I can't have it all.

Accompaniments were Martha Stewart's Paprika Oven Fries and Tyler Florence's Smashed Broccoli with Garlic. I did everything but smash it. I was into the flavors in this recipe, but not the baby-food texture, so I got a little reckless.

So I had a job interview a few days ago. A grueling 4-hour extravaganza. The morning of I was in positive spirits about it. Even with a 6am wake-up call (building in enough time for getting lost, which is frequent). The fact that Copywriter would be my title was appealing. While there's alot about where I'm going that I don't know, I do know that I want writing to be the main focus. I wrote all the copy in my last job, but there was a lot of other stuff to do as well. Some of which I liked, but I always felt that the writing didn't get enough time and attention. Scarcity of resources didn't help.

Anyway, for reasons I can't put my finger on, I just didn't feel it about this job, or this company. Maybe it was because two out of the five people I met with were ones I instantly disliked. Yes, she of the snap judgments, I know, but they work in my favor sometimes. Or maybe because everyone I met with was a man. If I was living in San Francisco with all my friends at hand, this wouldn't be an issue, but I would like to meet some new girlfriends, and a job is always a good way to do that. I know, it's just one interview, but I'm being picky, people. I don't want to get myself into another job I can tolerate but where I'm constantly questioning whether it's where I want to be every day. But I'm getting far ahead of myself. Maybe they didn't even like me. They were meeting a ton of people.

I'm just not feeling very driven to look for my dream job right now, and it's a bit of a concern. I thought I would be (more driven). And right now I'm just not. Maybe it's because I finally baked something that turned out to be edible and attractive. Maybe it's because I'm not done with what has been a very relaxing, calming time for me (for the most part). Maybe it's because I got a freelance job that's still paying. It's boring, but it's money. But really I think it's because I need to just go back and see my family in South Africa already. I won't want to take any job until I've done that. Which brings me to the procrastination part of this post. How long have I been talking about this? Forever, right? Yes. Do I have a ticket with departure dates? No. It is the curse of the gene that meanders through my dad's side of the family. A pervasive indecision and inability to commit to travel plans. It's awful. Collectively, my extended family has terrorized travel agents around the globe, with constant call backs, plan changes and cancellations. My dad alone has probably driven a few out of their careers. (Dad I love you more than all the world, but I hate that I inherited this from you!). So today I will call Trekkers Travel for the 3rd time this week for available dates and fares and hopefully be at least 4 calls closer to a ticket.

Next up: Some things I've been reading. The streak is back, and I just flew through two more!

And in other exciting news from the weekend

2005-11-07T10:46:00.000-08:00

Saturday was a good day. David had to work, but he biked there to get some exercise and I had the car. I mani'd, pedi'd, coffee'd, bookstore'd and satisfied my Mexican food craving. Ok, I went to Chipotle, which doesn't count, but it does when you've gone weeks without it.

And then I went home to get ready for a date. One with reservations. At this place, which was wonderful. We shared the grilled calamari for an appetizer, and then I had the scallops and David the lamb. I normally make a "Wah" face when David gets lamb as I don't eat it and therefore don't get to pick at his plate, but since it was a romantic date (I was even wearing a dress (my DVF knockoff from H&M) and boots!), I kept my mouth shut. To make it up for it we also got a side of Poutine, which we probably didn't need, but it was worth it. Poutine is a Quebecois delicacy, and if you've never had it, it sounds just awful. I remember reading an article about it in the NYT a few weeks after I had met David (who is from Montreal) and holding up the page in horror: "French Fries with cheese curds? And brown gravy! What is wrong with your people?" Fast forward 6 months and my first meeting of the parents in Montreal. I was a ball of nerves after the endless customs line at Mirabel airport, so he decided to make a stop on the way to Rue St. Louis at a little bistro of sorts, where we split a beer and a bowl of poutine. And it was so good. I couldn't get enough of those soggy, cheesy french fries. Not to mention the perfect thing to ease me into meeting Mama (don't worry, there was much consumption of breath-mints in the car). Dusty's was opened by a mother-son team from Montreal, hence the appearance of Poutine on the menu. We couldn't NOT get it. I mean the stuff is practially a national dish. They even have it at McDonald's.

In which I come within a foot of a Desperate Housewife

2005-11-07T10:16:00.000-08:00

Friends and co-workers from my previous home ask me from time to time if I've had any celebrity sightings yet.

Now I'm not sure what gave them the idea that I *cared* about such things... I mean I know that if they found a copy of US Weekly or Star on their chairs when they got back from lunch, it was usually from me, and I know I was the girl who would emerge from the Newstand at the airport during business travel with a 10 pound bag of magazines, but really!

Anyway, I digress. Last night at the Arclight (we went to see Ripley Under Ground--part of the AFI film festival) I entered the restroom just as Marcia Cross was leaving it. While I thought that my first real sighting would be riddled with doubt: "Was that really Celebrity X?" Was it? Was it? Could it have been?", I was 100% sure about this one. With the willowy-ness, and the hair, she's very striking, and hard to miss.

Then, after the movie (which was very entertaining) on leaving the theater, I realized that we had been sitting two rows in front of one of its main actors--Alan Cumming. In the car on the way home David and I were playing the "What else was he in? Wait don't tell me!" game but he never did get it. I had to remind him about The Anniversary Party. He was also in Spy Kids, but I'll save that one for my 12 year old niece, when I tell her about the sighting. "Alan who?"

Oh, and I need to call my mom and tell her I may have peed where a desperate housewife did. I bet I can catch her right now--she and my dad have just had dinner!

But really, I don't care about these things. Not one bit.

One good thing about my night of abbreviated sleep...

2005-11-01T15:38:00.000-08:00

Amazon.com: Books: A Million Little Pieces (Oprah's Book Club)

...was getting deeper into this book. For a few years I've picked this one up in the bookstore, but always ended up going for something else. Then my friend Heidi sent it to me for my birthday. Oprah went nuts about this book, and while I don't always get excited about her picks, she was right about this one. It's one of the most real, haunting, beautiful, touching memoirs I've read.

So it's back on. The manic reading streak of 4 books a week that I went through for the past year had started to subside a bit. Nothing was calling to me, and I picked up a few things that didn't keep my interest. Usually all it takes is one jaw-droppingly good book, and this is it. I'm going to have to activate my hold queue at the LA Public Library.

Things that have my bitch up

2005-11-01T10:21:00.000-08:00

And it's only 10:40 am.

• The Girls Gone Wild came in at 4am this morning, and got their Laguna Beach on right in their driveway, about 3 feet from where I rest my head. "Like OMG! I am like, rilly drunk!" They were loud and obnoxious, and I never did get back to sleep. I know, it was Halloween, and I sound like a cranky old hag, but still.

• I burnt my bagel.

• The annoying emails I get from the "BMG for books" that I joined one fateful day earlier this year. Today's installment warned that the "books you recently ordered, are not in stock". Thanks, but I certainly did not order the box set of which you speak. And how could such books be out of stock? Who is ordering them?

How did I get involved in this silliness? Well, once upon a time on the old cube farm with a view of the San Francisco bay, there sat a girl who, while intelligent and capable of playing well with the other animals, would feel so devoid of excitement about the farm's activities that she would let the Internet Explorer take her away for a bit. On her travels she would think crazy thoughts such as: Ooohh books for less! I like books. And here's this Jennifer Weiner book I want to read. It's a bargain at $3.00. And I am #285 in the SF Public Library queue to receive it... Done! One week later it was on my doorstep. Yay!

Well "Little Earthquakes" wasn't even worth the $3.00, (Green Apple didn't even take it when I tried to sell it to them) and now I'm in a relationship with a discount book club that I can't get out of, no matter how hard I try. Fine print says I have to order a certain number of books per year. And somehow I don't think "Your selection is mostly made up of crappy one-page-away-from-being-Harlequin-romance-novels that I could get for less at my local Walgreens!" is grounds for terminating the relationship. And the fact that I moved recently is really wreaking havoc on our rather tenuous affair. My monthly "Featured Selections" newsletter got to me too late for me to put a "DON'T SEND" checkbox next to my selected titles before the deadline and yesterday I got a nice package of cheap mystery-romance-detective-whatever stories that I will have to pay to send back. And how do they even make the selections? For the love of God, I ordered ONE BOOK!

I know. I have only myself to blame. Just when I was patting myself on the back for never having ordered anything off the TV (although Daisy Fuentes, Elizabeth Berkley and Marie Winsor herself almost had me with their Pilates DVD package), I go and get involved in this. I don't expect sympathy (god knows I'm not getting any from the other person who lives here), I just want to whine about it. So I'm doing just that.

And finally....

• Recruiters who, while kind enough to set up an interview for a copywriting job that I'm mildly interested in, feel the need to remind me to dress nice, turn my cell phone off, not chew gum, or (this one's good) wear too much perfume becuase it might remind the interviewer of someone they disliked. Whoa! Thanks for the warning! I was planning on showing up with a big ball of bazooka in my maw, wearing a slutty suit, doused in Charlie Girl. And what's even nuttier is that this woman met me! I am very confident that I gave her no reason at all to think I would commit any of the crimes she felt the need to warn me about. I know, she's just doing her job, but it was mildly annoying.

Ah, I feel better now!

10 things I learned this weekend

2005-10-31T17:24:00.000-08:00

1 Bossa Nova isn't going to be a staple. In spite of high hopes for this place, it didn't really live up to the excitement we felt about Brazilian food in walking distance. Maybe only idiots order the Stroganoff in a Brazilian restaurant but even the more traditional dish we had wasn't great.

2) My neighbor (not one of the Girls Gone Wild) is a genius with the brows. While bonding over our flooded bathrooms at 1am last week, I discovered that she works at Melrose Place Aesthetics. Okay, the place is expensive, but I was frantic and now I think I'm hooked. Not only was she a whiz with the color ( I needed tinting too), but she shaped them perfectly. (I'm still walking around with hair that's about 2 inches past its prime, but I'm going to wait until I feel like heading out to The Valley to try Superjux's salon suggestion.)

3) Our apartment looks about 10 x better now that the tree-beast is tamed! At long last, our landlord sent the trimmers to contain our jungle. I was expecting them to bring machetes, but it wasn't necessary. Now we get the best lazy afternoon sun. There are some good naps coming up once I am done with this freelance project.

4) The Target parking lot has got to be the worst in Los Angeles. The store itself is actually a far more positive toiletry and cleaning supply re-stocking experience than the one offered by my former Target in Colma, but the parking situation is going to make me avoid future trips like the plague.

5) There really is such a thing as a 30 minute meal (that doesn't come from Trader Joe's). I love Rachael Ray and all, but her 30 minute meals are not things I've ever been able to make in 30 minutes. And I'm not suggesting the problem lies with her. It lies entirely with me. I tend to move a little slower than she does when I'm cooking. It could be the wine. Anyway, my "30 minute meals" are always 45-50 minute meals. No matter what. But tonight I made Tyler Florence's spaghetti with peas, onions, goat cheese, parmesan and basil. And it really did take less than 30 minutes. It was also good later than night when I pulled a Nigella and ate out of the fridge.

6) The unbridled wave of homesickness for San Franciso that hadn't hit yet was inevitable. It was just a matter of time. And it happened when I least expected it. On Saturday night we went to a birthday party of a work acquaintance of David's, and this turned out to be the catalyst . Maybe it was the crowd, or the fact that we didn't really know anyone in it, but we felt like fish out of water. Both of us. Now I can be shy at times, but David? When you look up "shy" or "retiring" in the dictionary, you won't find his name. So the fact that he thought it was a weird night too was validating. Anyway, there's really no reason to dwell on it. Not every crowd is going to be like this one. But San Francisco friends, know that I miss you so!

7) If you hit the Hollywood Farmer's Market at around lunchtime, you will not be able to decide what to eat because the choices are all so good. You will wander up and down, gaping with wide-eyed wonderment at all the stalls, annoying all the decisive people who know what they want. Yesterday I went for Caribbean. Next time it's a toss up between Korean and Thai.

8) Kettle Corn is Farmer's Market crack. I probably didn't need the bag that is the same size as a small child, but I couldn't help myself. I'm still working on it.

9) Rachel Bilson shops at my Gelsons. I didn't see her. But as I perused the latest copy of either In Touch Weekly, or Life and Style (both jostling for the bottom-feeder position in the gossip rag food chain) while waiting to be rung up Sunday evening, there was a photo of her, and there was no mistaking that it was taken at my Gelsons, and "near her West Hollywood home" . Yes, I'm embarrassed to admit that I still get mildly excited by this kind of thing. But she is in the OC, after all.

10) Pot roast is a pain in the ass. Really. That hunk of beef needed so much basting, turning, checking, prodding and temperature-taking, by the time I got to hold a carving knife over the damn thing, I felt a twinge of remorse. It would have been worth it if it was the tasty thing I imagined while my head was in the oven babysitting it, but it was just kind of blah. I'm not sure what the secret is to a good pot-roast but I wasn't around when it was circulating. Next time I want to cook a slab of meat, I'm making Jamie's brisket with the bottle of beer, once and for all.

Anyway, it's Halloween, and it looks like I might be a Hallo-weenie after all. Both me and the other DoubleD are swamped with deadlines. He is working late, and I have something to finish by tomorrow morning first thing. Maybe we'll wander up to the party later on. Or if I'm lucky, I'll get some trick-or-treaters for the first time in 10 years!

The Dr. Shepherds

2005-10-31T12:17:00.000-08:00

Grey's Anatomy last night? Come on Dr. McDreamy! Your wife cheats on you, you move to Seattle to start over and live in an Airstream, begin a relationship with someone you really seem to like (and who loves you in the listen to your bad music sort of way), your wife shows up out of nowhere, disrupts your thing, serves you with divorce papers you can't sign and then I have to see you and Creepy leaving the hospital arm in arm after a trying day!

No no no!! That's not how it's supposed to go!

Oh well, I guess they're going to drag this one out. Last night's episode was kind of annoying, The medical stories had their usual touching, teary-eyed effect on me, but the rundown in the OR last night was a tad incongruous. The whole severed limb thing irritated me, and the way they wrapped it up was weak. And would they really have let Meredith assist with surgery given her tequila overdose? But I loved Izzie's comment about the salmon scrubs. I had been thinking the exact same thing.

Some weekend highlights. But they'll have to wait, since I am still busy writing the company profiles that just keep on coming.

Three ring circus

2005-10-26T17:39:00.000-07:00

So last night was shaping up to be pretty good. I was ahead of the game with my neurotic freelance boss, the latest Netflix offerings were waiting, pizza had been ordered and a bottle of red was breathing. I won't pretend that The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou was exactly the kind of movie I was in the mood for, but I was cozy and content. Until I took a bathroom break. It seemed that our bathroom had felt inspired by our choice of movie. A steady river of water was flowing from what looked to be under the tub? We couldn't really tell. There was that much mysterious water.

I am vehemently anti-mold (as opposed to all the mold lovers out there), so in a staunch display of solidarity to the carpet, I armed myself with a supply of freshly laundered rags and flung myself down at the border of Bathroom and Hallway, acting as a human shield against the tide, and the threats of mold spore invasion it carried. Who was I kidding? There was no stopping it. And it was clear from the expletives being uttered on the other side of the wall that our neighbor was having the same problem.

Thank god our landlords are who they are, and not say, Ed from 6th Ave., Shiufan from Lake St., or cokehead Jared from upstairs at another numbered street, because we would have been digging out our snorkels and goggles. Or checking into the Ramada Inn for the night. These guys were like the Power Rangers, or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, or something. Appearing magically at our door within minutes of our distress call, with an emergency plumber hot on their heels. Turns out that the water blockage was caused by some tree roots outside our building impeding the flow through the pipes. Who knew such things could happen? It's good they have experts for this, since that's the last thing I would have thought of. Anyway, by the time Team Plumb left the party it was 2am, and all I could think about was sleep. And emptying my bladder, finally

So that was last night. The good news is that thanks to the magical, efficient man who showed up on a white horse (ok, a steam cleaner) this morning, our carpet is as clean as a whistle! I can tear off my surgical mask and Hazmat suit and roll around on the floor like a puppy! Actually, I did just that. Today was the day I learned the valuable lesson that trying to replace a curtain rod (it had come adrift while moving bedroom furniture for the carpet cleaning), while perched on a revolving office chair is always a wrong answer. In one last clown-like display of ridiculousness, I found myself spinning away from the direction of the curtain rod while frantically trying to place it where it needed to be. I really hope that our supermodel neighbors didn't see me wrapped up on the bedroom floor in the drapes...

I am SO winning the lottery tonight.

But seriously, while frustrating, this thing is so minor compared to what other people have gone through recently with violent, raging water destroying their homes and lives. I almost feel like a jackass for even writing about it.

I can't believe I missed this!

2005-10-26T16:51:00.000-07:00

TVgasm - Laguna Beach: Like OMG! We Totally Graduated! Random!

So I used to watch this show alot my last two months in San Francisco. David had left for LA and I was staying home more than usual to save money for the move and my scheduled unemployment. And I thought this show would give me critical insight into the Southern California lifestyle. You know, a different perspective to the one the OC, 90210 and Melrose Place had given me to date. Yeah ok, whatever! This show is like, totally addictive you guys!

I wasn't even missing it until I read this recap. To tell you the truth, I had kind of forgotten about it. Oh well, I'm sure I'll have a million opportunities to see this very special graduation episode in which we meet the Laguna Beach parents, every day on MTV between now and 2009.

Boo (hoo)

2005-10-25T17:29:00.000-07:00

It's that time again. In spite of monumental efforts to avoid it, I know that I will end up being cajoled into something Halloween-y. And I'll be unprepared. Again.

You'd think that not growing up here, I would embrace Halloween with the zeal of a kid who has just discovered Christmas! And Santa! And oh it's so much fun! But it's quite the opposite. Halloween is the holiday that generates the least amount of enthusiasm from me. I never enjoyed the pressure of coming up with a clever costume, hated the crowds that would avalanche on my doorstep when I lived in the Castro, felt let down by the fact that every time I agreed to go on out and succumb to the street party, it would end up in my being jostled and shoved amidst a throng of revelers far more into it than I could ever be.
And lets not forget several years of costumes that got the "So what are you??" response, the high point of which had to be no-one getting my Gorton's Fisherman costume, fashioned very resourcefully at the last minute from some rain slickers that belonged to my roommate. I mean come on, yellow overalls, yellow hat. What the hell else could I have been?

But this year, I might just have to get into the spirit. Living just blocks away from where the West Hollywood festivities will take place here, I might have to do Halloween LA. Pressure's on.

I just realized that I am going to be an awful mommy on Halloween. My kids will have the bad last-minute costumes they'll never recover from, I can see it now.

Yo-non-plait

2005-10-25T16:57:00.000-07:00

Oh my god, I have the TV on while I'm working (bad girl) and I have had to listen to that Yoplait chocolate yogurt commercial 3x now. You know, the one with the women sitting around in their robes after a spa treatment waxing lyrical about the delicious, creamy, dreamy Yoplait. Yes, when we women get done with our facials, scrubs and massages, we like to talk about yogurt. The conversation could go on forever really, since the yogurt just reminds us of all the delicious, fluffy, moussy things we have ever encountered in our lives. And we simply must share this with our friends.

Go away, Yoplait girls.

spam. bring it!

2005-10-25T13:21:00.000-07:00

I removed the word verfication feature on my comments because it was starting to irritate me. I'll just risk the spam. Is there any way on blogspot to block comment spam without word verfication?

My favorite show on TV

2005-10-25T10:44:00.000-07:00

So I finally watched Grey's Anatomy a day late. I love this show. Compared to other medical dramas, I think they're doing such a good job developing the characters. The medical plot lines are always interesting, and not so complicated and riddled with medical-ese that you lose them completely and start rifling through whatever magazine happens to be on the coffee table.

And thank god Meredith made her "Love Me" speech, instead of playing it safe. Please Dr. Shepherd, please pick her, and not your googly-eyed annoying ex-wife. I mean, you can pick Addison for now because your balls are all tangled up in your scrubs, but please pick Meredith eventually. Or me. Pick me?

And I know that in the TV time-space continuum, it's hard to tell what day of the week it is at Seattle Grace, but I'm starting to admire Meredith's ability to knock back one tequila shot after another and then function in the OR. Ok, maybe the bar nights are always on Fridays, but still... The way I felt the morning after my most recent over-indulgence, I could barely operate the remote, let alone assist a dreamy surgeon.

A weekend of firsts

2005-10-24T10:25:00.000-07:00

First attendance of the West Hollywood Avenues of Art & Design walk. The free wine was enough to get me there, but as it happens, there was some good art and people watching to be found too. San Francisco has a very similar event, Open Studios, but this version is a little more highbrow, judging from the evening attire, suits, Manolos, Jimmy Choos (not to self: Don't wear the Converse All Stars next time) and Ferraris pulling up outside the galleries. I also saw the finest example of a trophy wife to date.

Then it was time for first LA sushi at nearby Fat Fish. This would also be the location of my first sirloin sushi roll (very weird), and first Sake Bomb (very dangerous). The latter came at the insistence of our friend Lamar. What I was expecting, was a shot, but instead was presented with a jumbo sized bottle of Japanese beer, a vat of sake and a glass. The waiter demonstrated:

1) Place chopsticks over beer glass
2) Balance empty sake cup on chopsticks
3) Pour sake into cup
4) Pound hands on table until sake falls into beer glass
5) Drink it
6) Keep drinking the beer and sake until it's all gone
7) Bang head against wall over regret at what just happened. Becuase you know tomorow will not be pretty...

Sake Bombs can make going to a gay club with your friend Lamar seem like the best idea ever! On the way there, you have your first cab ride that cost $20 for five minutes. Then you arrive at your first gay club, BoyLA. It was definitely LA, and there were boys galore. All with their shirts off. David felt a tad out of his element, in spite of his advanced metrosexual status, and I was definitely the only woman on the dance floor, so needless to say, we were ready to retire before Lamar. Our cab ride home only cost $15, even though we went further. What's up with that?

The next day I was woken up by my first LA hangover. And oh, was it a bad one. Bad sake! Bad wine! Bad beer! And was there a cocktail in there somewhere? I think so. It has honestly been years since I woke to that kind of head pounding and queasiness, and if I never have to experience it again, it won't be a minute too soon. So of course yesterday morning was the first time that I couldn't drag myself to the farmers market at a reasonable hour. By the time I strolled up at 1:45, it was a desolate little affair, with nothing but the saddest looking produce left. Pathetic. It's two blocks away...

In a continuing losing streak, we set off to the Beverly Center to return some items to Club Monaco. Feeling very proud of ourselves for braving the mall in our cotton- brained state, we start walking to the elevator, turn to each other and say simultaneously, "Did you bring the bag with the Club Monaco stuff?" Oh hell no! Why would we be smart enough to bring the very reason we were making the trip in the first place?

But the day ended on a good note, with first LA vietnamese food at Pho Cafe in Silverlake. Yes, there was a long wait in a strip mall parking lot but it was so worth it. While I thought for sure I was going to have soup after standing outside against the window with my tongue hanging out, I ended up copying my neighbor at the next table and got a vegetarian cold noodle dish with tofu and mushrooms. We also had this Vietnamese Pancake appetizer that I hadn't had before at any Vietnamese restaurant, and that was probably the highlight. At one point I looked down the row of tables, and almost everyone had that dish (and the side dishes it came with) on their table, so this is obviously a crowd-pleaser.

Oh, and one final first: My first LA "Don't I know you from somewhere?". I get this fairly often. Apparently I look just like other people's friends. Anyway, this time it was at the West Hollywood Library and it came from a man that I believe to be at least 15 years my senior, who asked me if I had gone to his high school. Ay caramba. Must re-instate eye cream and wrinkle relax regime.

Schlump

2005-10-20T10:40:00.000-07:00

This week I have been working from home. And it's actually been kind of hectic. I have a lot to do on a tight deadline. Anyway, what this means is that my typical routine has been get up, drink coffee, eat toast, sit in front of computer. I am often still in my pyjamas at lunchtime. I know that it is just a matter of time until I head out to the grocery store in my pyjama bottoms and tank top. Just a matter of time...

Lost

2005-10-20T09:21:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or is Lost a little lost lately?

I was late to jumping on the Lost bandwagon, but watched the entire first season that I had saved on Tivo (for my unemployment enjoyment) in about a week. I was hooked, and couldn't wait to get all caught up. (You know, so I wouldn't feel left out at my imaginary water cooler).

Now the show is just pissing me off. What happened last night? Nothing. Just endless wandering around in the jungle. And way too much time in the past life of Sun and Jun. I've wondered how they were going to get more than two seasons out of the show, and now I know: Each week we will delve deeper and deeper into the survivors' lives back home, until we are sick of them and hope "The Others" find them and eat them.

And what's up with the Hatch? And what happened to the guy who had been living there with his fully stocked larder? And wait, Kate likes Sawyer now? Aarggghh.

Even though I don't like kimchi...

2005-10-20T09:02:00.000-07:00

This place was so good.

When the waitress set down a platter of raw chicken meat for us to throw on our fire once it was hot enough, I remained unperturbed (there's just something about raw poultry). I was so busy occupying myself with the little dishes of potatoes, pea shoots, and spinach that I barely batted an eyelid at the chicken. We picked the shrimp and the chicken since we were all beefed up from the night before, and they were good, but next time we're going for the beef.

The other thing that I loved about Dong Il Jang is that it has not seen a hint of redecoration at least since the year I was born.

The Saddle Hurts

2005-10-18T19:27:00.000-07:00

oh. mah. god.

Today I put in a full day of freelance work. It's extremely dull stuff that involves rewriting poorly written, flowery company profiles for a directory. Lets just say that I know a little more about the world of venturing capital than I care to. All that I would like to know about Venture Capital, is how some capital could be ventured my way. Please.

Yup. I done got my ass of the couch and got me a little job. It's short term and I figured I could use the cash. There might be a little trip to the Beverly Center in my future. Whee! Or no, perhaps I could use it to pay the evil people at LabCorp to cover what my very shitty former insurance plan does not (apparently they don't cover anything). "Please pee in this cup. Now give us $150, sucker!"

Too much information? Sorry.

But sheesh! I'm tired, and ready for a cocktail. And my mouse hand hurts. I think I got carpal tunnel in just one day.

Korean food tonight. I'm being taken out since I worked so hard in the kitchen last night preparing David's birthday steak and scalloped potatoes (after getting caught in the rain). Thank god he's finally 33. I HATE that little week (okay, 10 days or so) between our birthdays that I'm two, instead of one year older than him. He loves it, saying things like, "Oh this guy I know, (he's about YOUR age)...", or "I wonder if when I'm YOUR age, I'll..." Such comments are not well received.

This girl needs wheels

2005-10-16T11:25:00.000-07:00

A little over a year ago, I sold my car. I had always owned a car in San Francisco but decided it was a money pit. A nuisance. I was up to my eyeballs in frustration over parking (the lack of it), parking tickets, parking dents, incorrectly-issued parking tickets. It just didn't seem worth it anymore. I rarely drove, worked downtown and had started to take lots of cabs to avoid the parking hell I just mentioned.

So I sold the car to a very earnest young man. Still living with his parents, socking tons of money away working as an investment banker. Even though my car was just going to be his "runaround" car (it was just not feasible to drive his Porsche all the time), he took the purchase very seriously, dragging his entire family to see it (twice) before he forked over his hard-earned cash. They all piled in with me for the test drive, speaking Tagalog for the duration of our 15 minute spin around the neighborhood. But he was a sweetheart, I knew he would take good care of her (sniff!), and he made me a decent offer, unlike some of the jokers who had expressed interest, or come to see it.

I felt oddly liberated. My social life was no longer dictated by street cleaning schedules. I was done with parking bureaucrats, car repairs and insurance claims. Best of all, I started to walk everywhere, and felt as fit as a fiddle.

And then I moved to Los Angeles. My carless days are over. I was going to put this off until I had a full time job, but the car might have to come first. David has been very good about letting me share his, but we're on a countdown to a meltdown. My last minute interview (sort of) last week caused a panicky schedule shuffle. (Yeah ok, "schedule" might be stretching it) Until now, my being carless hasn't really posed a problem. You don't need a car to plan menus, cook, catch up on Tivo, play online Scrabble with your dad, surf the internet, email SpecialK, and run. But now my wings are flapping a bit. I'd like to start exploring alone while I have free time, plan interviews without having to check in with David, make last-minute plans with the friends I have here, take a class at UCLA extension, save my relationship with a boy I love.

I'll probably wait until I've taken that much talked-about trip to the other hemisphere. No point in paying for car insurance while I am sunning on the beach in Cape Town, is there?

But what kind of car should I get? I've always been a loyal VW owner and I've been lucky. Cute , zippy workhorses that have run forever. But if I had a nickel for every time someone told me not to buy a VW, well, then I'd be buying an Aston Martin. So I'm wondering if I should take another chance.

So I'm thinking maybe a Prius? (it would have to be the older model - the new ones aren't cheap). A Scion XA? A Honda hybrid? Who has a car opinion for me?

You know you're in California when

2005-10-16T11:20:00.000-07:00

You're walking along the Venice Beach boardwalk, and while giving a backward glance to the guy with the giant gecko on his shoulder you overhear someone saying, "I think the drumming circle is starting..."

Potluck Pressure

2005-10-15T12:12:00.000-07:00

Today we are going to a BBQ in Venice (the home of the only person I know in LA that I don't know through David). Anyway, I said I would bring something, and since I didn't yet cook the bag of Baby Bliss Reds we got at the Farmer's Market last weekend, I decided to use those.

"Potato salad", I thought. "Perfect!" But unrefrigerated mayo going on a car ride kind of freaks me out. So, I needed a recipe that didn't have mayo, and they're about to install a "Thank you to our Sponsor" banner in my honor, I couldn't face going again. The answer came from Mark Bittman. I made his Double Mustard potato salad—it's so easy—just potatoes, wholegrain mustard, regular Dijon mustard, balsamic vinegar, olive oil, salt, pepper and parsley. (He said to use basil, but I didn't have any, so I substitued). It turned out ok and it looks very pretty, but now I'm worried that it's going to be too mustardy. I like spicy mustardy things so it's fine with me. David's no help. He is far too easy to please and declares everything, "Mmmmm, gooooood!"

Deep down the only reason I know I'm worrying about this is that when something's super easy and I do it in a snap, I think: "This MUST not be good. How can it be good when it was so easy? Shouldn't there be more ingredients?"

I'm also the kind of person that takes potluck leftovers personally. It all harks back to the days when I was a Brownie (I was a terrible Brownie, but that's for another post) and my mom thought it would be cute if on "International Day" I dressed as a cowgirl and took Brownies as my contribution (Brownies, to South Africans, are a quintessential American treat, as are Chocolate Chip Cookies). I left the party with half the pan still full and I just didn't get it. Was I the only one who thought they were good? It traumatized my little 7 year old self, already a persnickety perfectionist. And to this day, when it comes to potlucks, even though I know I am a capable cook, I get anxious about my culinary contribution.

And I was JUST wondering about her!

2005-10-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

Just last night, I asked David what the hell happened to Mayim Bialik. Since we don't get HBO, I missed her apparent appearances on Curb Your Enthusiasm, and you'd have to tie me to the couch and hide the remote to get me to watch Fat Actress. I have ALWAYS disliked Kirstie Alley (as far back as the North and South days, and before I had Tivo, those Pier 1 ads used to make my blood boil.

Tales of a Scientology Diva

2005-10-15T11:59:00.000-07:00

Mirror.co.uk - 3am - KATE AND TOM SET FOR MEXICAN WEDDING

This is only going to get better... I'm on tenterhooks for all the good TomKat gossip.

And is it just me, or does Tom look like he has man boobs in this picture?

Rack and Ruin

2005-10-14T10:01:00.000-07:00

I am in desperate need of the following:

1) an eyebrow shaping (I could use a little tint too)
2) a haircut

I should have done these things right before I left SF, while I was still close to my regular team of experts, but with all the moving craziness, it's been about 2 months since I've had either. I have no idea where to go and while I realize there is no scarcity of such resources here in LA, I'm not at a place in my life where I want to pay $100 for the haircut or the brows.

Katie Katie Katie

2005-10-14T08:14:00.000-07:00

Yahoo! Top Stories - Katie Now "Shame"-less

Ok Katie. You have clearly lost your mind. You were well on the road to a life ruined, but now you're pulling out of movies? And just how long have you been preggers, hmmmmm? And if you really think your betrothed is capable of participating in a slient delivery, think again. Unless they put a muzzle oh him. And I really hope you don't get the baby blues when baby is born. No drugs for you, missy!

And what would Joey Potter say?

Time for some fall chill

2005-10-13T22:02:00.000-07:00

I'm going to NYC to see SuperSpecialK! I haven't seen her since she left San Francisco a few months before I did, making my last days there seem just sad and empty. But in just two weeks, we'll be opening our first bottle of wine. Yay! And maybe she can help me see if I do in fact like Scotch. These are among the many things that unemployed times are good for: last minute trips to one of my favorite places to see one of my favorite people. I can't wait to be part of her fabulous life there, even if just for a weekend.

And one more thing: I miss the OC! I'm in serious withdrawal. Come back Ryan, Marissa, Summer, Seth, Sandy and Kirsten. Even you evil Julie Cooper Nichol. And you, scary person played by Jeri Ryan, I miss you all.

Tyra-Mail!

2005-10-12T09:04:00.000-07:00

So I have a little Tivo backlog right now. It's alarming to me that I watched more TV when I was employed. Probably because I couldn't during the day. Now that I could if I wanted to, I'm just sort of "meh" about turning on the TV. (So typical of my personality. Wanting what I can't have. Taking for granted what I do.)

But, in an odd turn of events yesterday afternoon, I found myself in the mood for a little TV. Since last week's America's Next Top Model (Or America's Next Reality TV Skank, as I like to call it) was next on the list to be deleted, I decided just to get it over and done with. Some observations:

1) Is it just me, or does Jayla (is that her name?) bear a striking resemblance to Shannen Doherty?

2) Cassandra's new do, while a huge improvement is so not mod ("Is this mod? Do you think this is mod? Am I mod? Would you call this mod? I'm trying to be mod?"). I felt validated when Miss Tyra validated my opinion at judging time. Get your ass back to the salon and get a Mia Farrow, ok? I was hoping that Cassandra would be eliminated after the trauma of being shorn, but oh well. Maybe next week.

3) Lisa must not win. I will never watch another season of ANTM if she wins. I swear if I was a contestant on that show, I would have smothered her with a pillow already.

4) I might be missing something important about the world of couture here, but I imagine it would be difficult to swallow style tips from a man wearing an oversized orange jacket and a polka dot muu muu. It wouldn't matter who he was.

Next to clear on the backlog: Back to back episodes of Desperate Housewives from the last two week. I'm so out of the loop.

The sin I'm in

2005-10-11T10:50:00.000-07:00

Moving to Los Angeles was a big leap. But the bigger leap was living in sin for the first time in my life. Most people I know have done this at least once by the time they hit 30, but not me. I have always been a late bloomer. My goal was more to live alone by the time I was 30, rather than cohabitate with a significant other. And I did it. And loved every minute. I'm the kind of person that loves to be home alone. I love not having to answer to anyone, not having to explain why I'm still in my pj's at 4pm, why I'm eating crackers and peanut butter for dinner, or why I'm watching a full day's worth of Tivo'd episodes of Dawson's Creek (5 years after everyone else watched it).

So this was a big step. Naturally, David and I had spent alot of time together before the move to Los Angeles. But mostly me at his place. When we lived in San Francisco, he had the bigger apartment, the queen size bed and easier parking. We gravitated towards his place when we had sleepovers, or weekendovers. It just made sense.

After dating just a few weeks, I realized that on the home front, he did many things differently to me. But I still liked him. (I wouldn't want to date someone who did things just like I do, believe me, I'm well aware that I am a freak.) The funny thing was, as long as it was his place, I didn't really care. I was more relaxed about so many things at his house that spending time there was like a retreat. Lazy weekends where I felt okay about not doing the dishes the second dirty ones were generated, or not making the bed the second I got out of it in the morning. I did wonder, though how it would be when we lived together in a place that was ours, not his or mine.

And here we are. We've both had to compromise. He is trying to be more understanding about why certain things are important to me, and I'm trying to diminish the importance of some of those things. Par exemple:

1) David thinks it's poppycock that there is a right way and a wrong way for toilet paper to hang off the roll. While this might seem like such a minor thing, it happens to be a pet peeve of mine. What this means is that he won't bat an eyelid if he sees me fixing it. I will try and remember to fix the toilet paper only when I am alone in the bathroom.

2) I need the dishes to be done when I walk into the kitchen in the morning. I don't care if a couple build up through the course of the day, but I hate to be greeted by dinner dishes at 8am. Now, with dishwashing being his job (I'm the cook), the compromise is that he gets up before me, does the dishes and makes my toast and coffee. I never have to see a chaotic kitchen. I am very much in like with this arrangement. I definitely got the better end of the deal.

3) Water around sinks. It doesn't matter. Kitchens, bathrooms, I HATE water puddles around sinks. I realize that they are an inevitable by-product of dishes, washing faces, brushing teeth, but that's what strategically placed sponges are for. This doesn't bother David in the slightest. But if he does the dishes, he wipes around the sink. I'm letting the bathroom go. As long as the whole bathroom gets cleaned regularly and there's some wiping up of the sink area if we're having guests, I'll live. Now I just need to get him to wring out the sponge when he's done...

With those three things sorted, we're in good shape. And believe me, I'm not the only one with pet peeves. Here are some of his, and the only reason I even know about them is because I have violated them on several occasions in the last 3 weeks.

1) Not filling up the water in the Brita jug when it gets close to being empty. I know, this would be so easy to do, but I think like a guy when it comes to the Brita jug. I don't know why.

2) Not screwing bottle caps tightly enough. Not only did we have the laundry detergent incident on Overflow Day, but there have been a few stickier ones involving olive oil.

3) Just how much I let the neighbors get to me. David is far less easily irritated by annoying people. I will let it consume me. Every obnoxious thing I hear them say or do makes me huffy and puffy. He will just keep watching Nova, or Charlie Rose, calmly sipping a glass of wine. I need to learn how to do that. (Stay calm, AND sit through an entire Charlie Rose interview).

What's for dinner?

2005-10-10T09:56:00.000-07:00

In my life, there's been a distinct correlation between major life changes and the amount of time I spend in the kitchen. I respond to free time and/or uncertainty by elaborate meal planning and preparation.

When I was nine, my stay-at-home mom went back to work for a bit. I was devastated. Now after school I was under the supervision of my older siblings, whose interest in hanging out with me was limited at best. On one of the many days I was being shunned, I decided to bake cookies. I picked something from an international recipe collection. I forget the name of the cookbook, but I'm pretty sure it was something that had been put together by a school, or a womens' league. Just like the cookies I ended up making, the book had a distinctly homemade flavor. God knows why, but the recipe I picked were the "Dutch Baps". What a disaster. The dough was a lumpy, gooey mess that I couldn't get to stick together in a shape if I tried. My poor mother got a frantic, tearful phone call at work: "The Dutch Baps, they're NOT WORKING!!" It was a while before I baked again, and to this day, I have better results with cooking. Don't get me wrong, I like to bake, but I seem to screw it up more easily. I've been let down by bread puddings, disappointed by countless crisps, and shocked by the number of muffin recipes that have failed me.

With cooking, I'm mostly very proud of what I serve, give or take a few mishaps. And I'm completely self-taught. My mother is an excellent cook, but she has a brisk, vigorous impatience about cooking dinner, or entertaining. When we were growing up she was so efficient, that most of the time the finished product would be simmering on the stove or baking in the oven by the time I got my nose out of my book to go and help her. It was clear that if I was going to learn to cook, I'd be better off being in control of the process from start to finish. Opportunity knocked when I was 18 and my parents spent a month in San Francisco with my sister. Finally my mother's kitchen was all mine! For a month, I shopped and cooked almost every day. I took it so seriously that I even learned how to cook meat (and I was a vehement vegetarian at the time.

After that was college, then living in France (where I seemed to exist entirely on crepes and baguettes with nutella), and then several years in San Francisco, (which became my home) where a variety of factors impeded my cooking progress: crazy work hours, low pay, a boyfriend who thought he was the only person in the world who had ever grated fresh nutmeg into a dish (I didn't dare cook for him) and horrible kitchens in roommate situations (I'm the kind of person who needs the kitchen to be immaculate to even start). Opportunity knocked again when I was laid off from the advertising agency I worked at during the dot.commer days. With limited funds, and alot of time on my hands, cooking elaborate dinners from start to finish was an excellent way to spend time rather than money. This was the era of the perfect crabcake, the labor intensive but perfectly spiced Thai green curry, the gourmet mac 'n cheese, the most tender pork tenderloin. My boyfriend (not Nutmeg guy) was never happier than he was in those two months. (The rest of the time he was a negative, whiny jackass who drove the person who ponders everything to death to the most impulsive insta-break-up of all time.)

Now I find myself between jobs with time on my hands again. And in a new city with new challenges, new tear-inducing moments, and new grocery stores! Needless to say I've spent alot of time in the kitchen. I've considered whether my culinary dabblings are a procrastination tactic to avoid looking for my dream job, or planning the trip to see my parents that will cost too much money but if it's keeping me happy, I say it's ok. Here are some of the things I've cooked up in kitchen LA:

1) Her baked orzo with parmesan and cheddar and sauteed shredded zucchini

2) Her apricot chicken (this one was for David on Rosh Hashanah)

3) His roast chicken with potatoes

4) Their chicken saltimbocca with my own roast poatotes and green beans

5) Their chicken pot pie (this isn't new for me, It's a staple in my repertoire)

6) Her lentils braised in red wine

7) Their coleslaw

8) And this staple's buttermilk pancakes. I'll never use another pancake recipe.

Drink

2005-10-09T18:44:00.000-07:00

I have a good man.He just delivered a margarita to my desk. Rocks. Salt. Yum.

what i like about you

2005-10-09T17:45:00.001-07:00

I've now been in Los Angeles for 3 whole weeks, and I think it's time for some feflection on how I feel about this big life change. I'm going to focus on the positive for this post. There are a few negatives, and I"ve had some blue days, but I"ll save that for another post.

Things I like about LA:

1) The weather. Come Thanksgiving I might be sick of sunny days and balmy nights, but for someone who has lived in the other Siberia known as San Francisco, it's perfect. Years of not being able to take as much as one step outside without a coat, years of being denied summer nights of outdoor dining and drinking, years of wind wind wind. Getting used to that was hard for someone who grew up in Cape Town, so LA weather (at least what I've experienced so far) is the best.

2) The architecture. Oh sure, I love the Painted Ladies of Alamo Square, And the Gingerbread victorians, But I have fallen in love with the Spanish bungalows, the apartment buildings from Hollywood's Golden Age and all the great mid-century houses. San Francisco's architecture swept me away when I first moved there, but I love what I see here too. Especially knowing that not every freestanding house is going to set you back 1,5 million.

3) The feeling of living in a residential community without living in the burbs: Don't get me wrong. I LIKE the city, I couldn't live in the sticks, but after living in a very urban part of San Francisco, it's great not too have too many tall buildings around me, And that I can take a walk at night and smell people's gardens and flowers. Rather than pee. And that the other morning when I went for a run, I heard a lawnmower and could smell the cut grass. In San Francisco, you really had to be a gazillionaire to have any semblance of a yard. And all the while there are places I can walk: Melrose Ave, Gelsons, bookstores, the library and even the Beverly Center if I felt so inclined. Which I don't right now, since I am living on the budget of someone who is sans emploi.

4) The Farmer's Market: I have been wanting to shop like this for a while. And it's not that these don't exist in San Francisco, but they are either during the week at a location that was never convenient for where I worked, or on the weekend, when they were a zoo. Here, it's just a skip to the end of the block. Between the fruit and veggies, the free samplings, the Greek lady with the delicious olive oil, hummus and dolmas, the tamale guy, the cookie guy, the bread guy. I can't get enough. Now if they just had cheese...Why no cheese West Hollywood Farmer's Market?

5) The Style: I like that people put a good look together here. And are creative about it. And I'm not saying it has to come from Fred Segal or Kitson. I like that stuff as much as the next shopaholic but there is just so much variety here, and so many resources for a girl to assemble an outfit. In San Francisco, I used to scoff about Crossroads, Wasteland and Buffalo Exchange. I hated having to pick through so much crap to find anything halfway decent. After a jaunt to the bank the other day, I took a look at the merchandise at the West Hollywood Crossroads. Lets just say that I need never spend mucho moola on a pair of jeans again. They had a plethora of salivatory brands and styles in my size. And they are practically giving them away.

6) The Beach. While I haven't really scratched the surface here, I like what I see so far. Ok, I don't know how much I want to try and get to the beach on a weekend in mid-summer, but they're pretty, with white sands and probably swimmable water. For anyone who has either tried to a) get to Stinson beach on the weekend or b) spent time at Ocean Beach, you know you just can't compare. Of course I know that San Francisco is not really a city that embraces beach culture, and I never expected that from it, liking it for so many other things, but this is a nice thing to look forward to.

What was that they said about good fences? I need a good fence.

2005-10-09T17:45:00.000-07:00

When I first moved in, the building next door to ours was vacant. Over the weeks it has become populated with despicable young things, each with a sense of entitlement bigger than Texas. David thinks I'm overreacting and not giving them a chance. And to that I say, "Honey, I know what I know, and I'm too old and curmudgeonly to give people who are instantly annoying a chance"

Here's a chronological rundown of the occupancy of the apartments in this cursed building:

1) Week 1: I am innocently pottering around in my kitchen making my first ever roast chicken. The bird required some basting and babysitting so I was spending some time in there. On a trip to the trash can, I glance up and see a girl prancing around her apartment with nothing on. In fact, she came right over to the window and stood there talking on the phone. Now I'm no prude and have been known to not give a rat's ass about a neighbor getting a glimpse of one of both of my boobs while I'm dashing from shower to closet, but she wanted me to see her boobies, And take a good long look. At the time, we had not yet purchased a shade for the kitchen window. Now we have.

2) Week 2: The second unit moves in. They have a yippy yappy dog, whose obnoxious owner is always outside talking very loudly on his cell. He is always emphatic, and annoyed. I'm sure he is TERRIBLY IMPORTANT. So important that he can't be bothered to pick up Yip Yap's poop. He better be careful. I have plastic bags. I could easily transport that poop to a less desirable location. Like the roof of his car.

3) Week 3: The third unit moves in, They are the worst. Their voices could break glass. They are very loud. They squeal at each other constantly. One of them has a boyfriend who clearly still thinks trucker hats are cool, and who I can hear from the end of the block. The only blessing is that he doesn't live there. I think I would slit my wrists.

One final unit remains. I am keeping my fingers crossed. But practicing giving the finger too.

Thank you Tyler (and Ina)

2005-10-06T10:11:00.000-07:00

Your chicken enchilada recipe rocked, and was exactly what I was looking for when I woke up yesterday and decided that enchiladas and margaritas would be what I was serving for our dinner guest last night. I specifically wanted a recipe that was more than juts tortillas, chicken, sour cream and cheese, and Tyler Florence delivered.

Ok, I tried to make this an embedded link but it didn't work, but here's the recipe:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/recipes/recipe/0,,FOOD_9936_11056,00.html

And for libations?

Ina Garten's margaritas. Especially when the quanity for 6 serves 3.

Overflow

2005-10-05T14:41:00.000-07:00

Since moving to Los Angeles 2.5 weeks ago, today was truly the first day that I just hated.

Let me just say that learning the inner workings of that tank that is part of the um, commode, is hot on my list of new things to learn while I am unemployed.

I wish somebody had been here to witness the debacle that followed the flushing toilet overflowing and flooding the bathroom. At first, I thought this was just going to be your common-pain-in-the-butt-flood. You know, a little water on the floor, some towels to the rescue etc. Hell no. This was a vigorous, relentless gush of water that came from every one of the toilets orifices. And I couldn't make it stop. In fact, I'm pretty sure I made it worse. After frantically removing the lid of the tank, I fiddled around with some things and managed to dislodge a hose that obviously needed to be left alone. The next thing I knew, the water on the floor was the least of my problems. Suddenly it was spraying up and out, all over the sink and all the items on it. To cut a long story short, at last things in the tank started doing what they were supposed to do, the flow subsided and I set about mopping up the pond with every available rag and old towel I could find. Next, in a frantic quest to erase the morning's events, I decided to launder all the mops, rags, towels, and anything in the bathroom capable of surviving the spin cycle. On the way back from the laundry room, I heaved a sigh of relief. The worst was over, right? Wrong. Somehow in the 10 short steps I took, I manged to drop the laundry detergent. As luck would have it, I hadn't screwed the cap on tight enough and the bright blue soap went everywhere. On me, but mostly all over our front walkway, which after a little hose down, is very clean and fresh smelling (and a little bleached too -- now I know how to brighten up cement if I ever feel so inclined).

So, not a fun day of dometic goddessness. Suddenly I'm less motivated to make dinner for the friend we're having over tonight. Since these things tend to come in threes, I'm not sure I should be unsupervised either a) Driving to Gelsons to buy enchilada fixings, or b) operating a gas stove...

What a tangled web I weave.

2005-03-30T13:52:00.000-08:00

When I got back from lunch, my pay-stub was sitting on my desk. I actually felt a little guilty. Yes, I feel underpaid but this week I've really had the wool pulled over the proverbial eye. While I have maintained some modicum of commitment to the workplace by checking work VM and email FIRST thing in the morning, I then proceed (in no particular order, several times daily) to:

1) Personal email. Time to catch up on correspondence. Save for a very special few that get bombarded with emails throughout the day (you know who you are), has caused a rather sad, spammy little inbox of late.

2) My library queue. How I love the SFPL! I've sung their praises ever since renewing my membership last fall. I should work there. Every single new release I want to read right away, every embarrassingly bad tome about Mr. Right, Mr. Wrong, Mr. In-Between, Life as Fiancially Challenged Girl in the City, recipe books I want to try but not buy will all get delivered to my local branch in days. They send me handy little notices in the mail, but I'm thinking about telling them to just stop, because I check my queue compulsively throughout the day, and I know exactly which book is ready for pick-up, in transit, on hold by 1 million other people, at ANY GIVEN TIME. Thank you very much.

3) The bank account. Now before you tell me about the virtues of balancing the checkbook, and keeping track of my finances, I DO THAT. Or I try to, most of the time. But those conniving little minxes over at the bank like to play with my mind and trick me into thinking I have more money than I do. What kind of institution bothers to post debits (and not even in the pending section), only to take them away the very next day? If I wasn't a compulsive online bank account checker, I might unwittingly go and spend money on all the things I like to spend money on.

If you're reading this, I see you thinking: "Does she have anything in her library queue about living with OCD?)

4) cooksillustrated.com, epicurious.com. Sometimes I entertain fantasies about cooking for people for money. I want to do this, but I also want to do a million other things. While I'm deciding, the aforementioned sites help me along by making sure I always have the best recipes and awareness of the best (and of course ESSENTIAL) kitchen tricks and tools.

5) Various travel web sites. I need a vacation. The kind where I do nothing but recline on a lounge chair, under a thatch umbrella, and people bring me drinks. It's kind of sad that my core vacation requirement is easy access to cocktails, but there you have it. I'm not saying it'll be my requirement next year, or the year after that. But in 2005? Definitely a requirement.

6) bluefly.com, shopbop.com, girlshop.com, yoox.com. I don't think I need to go into this one. Just go to the sites, ok?

7) tvgasm.com. Because who can watch tv anymore without the snarkiest of snarky recaps? Not me!

8) Various real estate websites. No, I'm no closer to buying a home than I was, oh about 8 years ago, but a girl can dream, can't she?

And so it goes. Maybe it's because I'm feeling a little understimulated and unchallenged and that I've done the best I can here. Maybe I need to move on? Maybe I need to apply myself more? Maybe I have ADHD? Ok. back later. I have to go and see if I can find a site about ADHD!

(1 comment | comment on this)

Keeper

2003-12-15T16:53:00.000-08:00

Ah my blog readers, (all two of you), it's been a long long time.

And I've had things to say, I really have. I've just been lazy and unmotivated.

But!

In dating news... I MIGHT have a keeper. Yes, after months and months of bad dates and bad sort-of boyfriends.

Really, I like this one. 6 weeks of good good times. And no drama. No weirdness. No ex-wives, no annual Burning Man enthusiasm that I can't pretend to be into too. None of that. The only thing that's making the neuroses rear their ugly head, is that he's Jewish, and I'm not. Now I don't care what he is, but will he care what I am (retired Catholic with about 23 years since her first and last confession....) eventually? I guess time will tell. I just wonder about it, since there have been a few conversational clues that Jewish culture is sort of important to him...

So it was rather funny that yesterday while checking out the sale books at my local bookstore, I came across the following title, "So You're Dating a Jew...." I couldn't help myself. After perusing a few pages, I had to put it down. Because I am exactly the kind of person who would buy a book like that and then use it as fodder for every one of her neuroses about this religious difference. And god forbid he should find it one day along with the rest of my self-help collection.

Rape! At the cosmetics counter of an upscale brand!

2003-09-25T16:46:00.000-07:00

Oh, they got me good.

Last night after work I headed to Nordstrom where I found myself at the Trish McEvoy counter looking at eyshadow. It had occurred to me that I don't really have a good daytime look when I need to look a little bit more done up for for work and such. Before I knew it, 2 sassy girls not a DAY over 21 were all over me, forcing themselves on EVERY FACE PART. By the time I got up off the stool, and assessed the damage, I had given them $80. A shameful violation of my willpower, but I look hot!

And not just one makeup artist, but two. TWO?? Apparently I'm either just bursting with potential and Ford Models is dialing as we speak, or I am just too much facial renovation for one person to take on.

But MY favorite moment had to have been when when one of them looked at me with her perfectly shadowed and blended eyes and said, "If there's ONE thing I suggest you leave with today, it's the under-eye line and shadow corrector." So this is where it begins. I now see how disasters like what can be found at awfulplasticsurgery.com happen. It's when girls like me start obsessing too early about the nooks and crannies on their faces. Ok, I have more than a nook, I have a ditch, but I actually didn't leave the line correcter, after all. I'm saving my money for Botox, baby!

Back with the Bits and Pieces

2003-09-22T19:07:00.000-07:00

it's been too long.

So my weekend was good. Since my roommate (and former common-law wife) went and got a real boyfriend, I practically live alone. I miss her, we had some good times hanging out as roomies, but I'm just loving all the alone-time. Although I did actually spend the greater part of Saturday with her and her boy drinking Pina Coladas in the sun at his garage sale in Berkeley. Fun. The people watching? Priceless. I think my favorite moment was the woman who decided not to buy a plethora of gewgaws for the grand total of $6.00 (after walking around with them for a half-an-hour), because she didn't have her checkbook with her. Who does that?

But the biggest difference in my life is thatinstead of sleeping in on a Sunday morning after a night out with the roomie, waking to reruns of Beverly Hills 90210 on FX and then dissecting the night over two grande coffees from the Java Lisa, I actually wake up fresh and and ready for the morning. The Yoga morning. Yesterday I rolled out of bed, right into my car, and drove myself to yoga for the first time in a few months. Ouch. I almost ditched when I saw the New Agey Hippie dude who was subbing for Rebecca but then thought, "you got up for this, you're staying for this". I'm so glad I did. New Age hippie sub was really good. I actually enjoyed it. Even I can overcome my disdain for the Mr. New Age Yoga Man.

Later that day I went with Heidi and Jim to Cinema Electronica at Resfest. It was fun! And who knew that the PFA had such a great theater?

After we had a late lunch at Frijtz. When you haven't eaten all day there's little better than a cone of french fries waiting to be dipped into Wasabi Mayo and Honey Mustard. I just undid all the good that happened on the mat this morning, but oh well.

So the only downer at the end of a balmy Indian Summer day in San Francisco, was when I went t Cala Foods to pick up some dinner stuff and noticed that some fucker has stolen my car registration. Beulah has no identity. I guess I'll be spending a day at the DMV.

And lastly:

I love my new book, "Nobody's Perfect", a compilation of Anthony Lane New Yorker columns. I love that man. He's funny funny funny.

And in Fake Meat News, I have found a brand I can stomach--Quorn. Tonight I baked up a batch of their "Chicken Nuggets" and was pleasantly surprised. Usually when the package proclaims fake meat product's startling resemblance to real meat, I guffaw and snicker. Well Quorn had me. AND, I recreated the Chicken Nugget experience perfectly with dips. Ketchup, BBQ Sauce and a Honey Mustard dressing. Yum. (Ok, I don't always eat crap like this, I just had a fast food craving, and this seemed like a good compromise.)

And by the way. I DO eat meat. I just get weirded out by Chicken and birds in general. Feathers. Beaks. Yuck. So if I can find a fake chicken product that's not the real bird, I like it.

But you're an alien!

2003-08-27T11:46:00.000-07:00

The break-up conversation happened once and for all. And it was fine, really it was. He was a little more bummed out than I thought he would be, but I think he'll be ok.

And just to be clear: I'm ok with someone having been married before and having a past, really I am. But when they're blatantly not ready to move on and you feel like you're moving further apart instead of closer together after dating for six months, it's time to cut the chord. We can blame it on timing, and hey, maybe he's just not the guy for me.

But he said some pretty strange things during the break-up conversation. I have to share.

Him: "Not being divorced is really not a big deal. It's just a piece of paper. "

Me: "I don't know, for me it would just be a big fat loose end that I would want to tie up especially if I didn't think we would ever get back together, and if I cared about someone else."

Him: "Well what about your not becoming a U.S. citizen. That's a loose end that you're not taking care of."

Me: "How on earth does that affect my relationships with other people? I have a green card, I have a job, I pay taxes. This is my home, and that's pretty damn clear to anyone who knows me. I really don't think you can compare my resident alien status to being legally bound to another person!"

Him: "Well you could get deported!"

Me: "Well, yes, if I committed a crime, I might be deported and sent back to my country of origin, but again, anyone who knows me...

Silence.

?

Eureka! This is my problem! If my lack of citizenship is my biggest dating liability, sign me up! Brush me up on my U.S. history and get me to my swearing-in ceremony! Who knew that I had to commit to the United States before a man can commit to me?

My roommate and I laughed long and hard about THAT one.

Heave. Ho Ho Ho.

2003-08-25T16:14:00.000-07:00

How do you know it's time to dump a man you've been dating exclusively for 6 months?

It's like this:

You're at a wedding, they're about to do the garter toss and he tells you that he can't go up there because he's already married.

Ding ding ding ding ding! Time for someone to open up the box of clues.

The "married" part wasn't a surprise. He and his wife were separated, and not yet divorced, but that line could certainly have gone unspoken. And his saying it at that juncture is definitely a sign that the relationship was headed absolutely nowhere at all. And it's the kick in the pants I needed. After getting over my initial mortification, I laughed about it. Pretty hard. And, I got the phone number of the hot brother of one of the groomsmen. This was at the after-party, which my date did NOT attend, because he had to go feed and walk his wife's dog. Yeah, I know. I should have dumped a while ago.

But enough about him. He's on the outs. And the groomsman's brother is probably not my type beyond the cuteness. A big clue was the way he used a big circle dot for the "i" in his name? Um, are you a 10 year old girl? At least it wasn't a heart. But it was a good ego boost, and I left the after party feeling that I still have it goin' on. In spite of having dated someone who didn't make me feel that way.

So Bridesmaidgate 2003 is over. The dress was clearly not designed for more than some light mincing around with a glass of champagne. A few too many exuberant hugs and a turn on the dancefloor with a baby pawing at the fabric sent the straps flying from the bodice right in the middle of Wham's "Wake me up before you go go". By the end of the reception, I was safety-pinned in on both sides. And in case anyone thinks this mishap has anything to do with the size of my breasts, it doesn't.

But it was a fun wedding, garter-toss incident aside. The bride looked so happy. The groom shed tears as she swanned down the aisle, looking like a blonde Audrey Hepburn. The speeches were heartfelt without being sappy or of the "too much information" category. And the best part about it is that I think it will last. I know this is strange and unusual coming from the cynic that dominates my ruminations on life, love and everything else, but I think those two will make it. I really do.

Here's to Jen and Mike. Hopefully they're consummating with carefree abandon in the Cook Islands.

My Queer Eye Moment

2003-08-20T21:25:00.000-07:00

My friend's wedding is this weekend (the one where I am a bridesmaid), and this morning, while coiffing for work, I decided to actually look at the rear end of my do while styling, rather than blindly going at it with the hairdryer while marveling at the fact, that yes, my pedicure has lasted yet another day. Anyway, the hair was not pretty. Not at all. I knew that under no circumstances would I stand before 175 wedding guests with that rat's nest. I know, it's NOT my wedding. No-one will be looking at me, so I shouldn't care. But I do.

So I call my Sean (the best hair cutter ever) and tell him that I am having a hair crisis of mammoth proportions. He agrees to squeeze me in after his last appointment that day. I looooove him. He fixed it all up, made me feel pretty and now I'm bridesmaid ready. Thank you Sean! You rule.

Much to do tomorrow. So that is almost all. My baked potato awaits. As does some Tivo'd Melrose Place. I know, I'm a loser to be rewatching Melrose Place. But I'm doing it for the fun early 90's heinous fashion flashback moments. What a shame bodysuits went the way of the shoulder pad...

Le Weekend

2003-08-18T09:47:00.000-07:00

Two movies this weekend:

The Secret Lives of Dentists. Pretty good, but even at small neighborhood-y theatres (like the Vogue on Sacramento, for example) you can't escape the loud movie talkers. It's just a curse. Anyway. This was an enjoyable movie. It was a toss-up between that and Seabiscuit, but sometimes it's good to go and see a movie that you know very little about before seeing it. It lessens the potential of feeling let down after all the hype. And I fear that might have been the case with the Biscuit.

Freaky Friday. Took my 9 year old niece to see this. Her parents tagged along, so it was a real family outing (much to her chagrin). This one was actually pretty cute. Again, lots of movie talkers, but it's a little more forgiveable at a matinee where you are quite conspicuously one of the more "senior" folk in the audience.

Our next movie together (me and my niece) will most definitely be "Good Boy".Anything with a talking boxer dog is right up my alley.

Please. Wear my Coat.

2003-08-11T16:13:00.000-07:00

So this weekend it dawned upon me, with crystal clarity, that I am really not as young as I used to be. You know that you can't party with the kids anymore when you leave a bar saying such things as this:

"Why was it so LOUD in there? And could it have been any hotter? And no more margaritas for me tonight, that last round totally gave me heartburn!"

Yep, it's a sad, but true state of affairs. Heartburn, eardrum-discomfort and a craving for fresh air while in a bar are signs that you're nearing the end of your partying semester.

My young sassy friend Superspecial K still has it in her. But she has a big *2* in front of her age. But the girl never loses faith in me. She's been hounding me for months to go to "1984" (80's dance party night at the Cat Club in SF) with her on Thursday nights. Perhaps she has forgotten that the last time I went to "1984", was 2002. The night where I gave a 22 year old boy my phone number while a 19 year old boy gave my roommate his parka while she was outside having a cigarette. You see, because he was BORN in 1984, he couldn't GO to 1984, so he was forced to do his socializing on the street. I mean, I'm sorry but what do you expect? How can anyone born in the early 80's really appreciate Visage's "Fade to Grey", I ask you?

Oh, sorry. What was up with the parka, you say? Um, he wanted her to have something to remember him by. Mmmmm. a musty, skanky, coat will leave a girl with some fond memories indeed!

Ma'am, I assume you KNOW why I pulled you over?

2003-08-11T12:44:00.000-07:00

I got my FIRST EVER moving violation this weekend. It was inevitable, given that I have just replaced my ancient VW Jetta (sans the power steering) with a zippy, sporty Golf. Running errands on Saturday, I saw a parking spot I had to have on the other side of the street. Ok, it was right across that "barrier" that is the double yellow line. But pshah! My little Beulah turned on a dime and I sailed right into that spot. Score!

Uh-oh. Busted. For years, I live with a jalopy where the same manoevre took twice as long and a whole lot more effort, and I never get caught. Is this a sign that I am not meant to be with Beulah? Fuck that. I love Beulah. She is like a big blue piece of jewelry that I get to show off on a daily basis (almost)

Now I'm sure I'll have all kinds of opinions about traffic school and my first encounter with the Superior Court of San Francisco. So stay tuned.

A date. With Tivo.

2003-08-08T20:38:00.000-07:00

Last night it was all about the Tivo. Thanks to an usually busy social life thanks to a friend's pending wedding, it had been a while since I'd turned on the telly. Here's what I did last night...

First up was Queer Eye. I might still be in the honeymoon phase, this is one of the best new shows on television, and if you're not watching it, you need to be. It makes my day, by making me want to roll off the couch from laughing so much. And it might be what I need to tide me over until fall brings back the joy that is "Alias" and "24". And I think part of the reason it generates such mirth is that I have in fact been on dates with many of those guys. The slobs with the apartment funk. Or the style challenged man. Or the one who needs some basic instruction in table manners.

Next up: The Amazing Race. Aargggh. I can't believe that in spite of their evil shenanigans, Chip and Reichen are still in the game. It chaps my hide. But it's just TV, after all, so I'll let it go.

Last on the list is Boy Meets Boy. Ok. Women in my city have long lamented the fact that most (or many) of the good guys are gay. So with this in mind, living in a place where stylish, attractive, witty gay men abound, I have a hard time believing that the boys on Boy meets Boy are the best they could come up with for James. Of course, some of those men are straight but still...

Kitties and Kibbles

2003-08-08T20:26:00.000-07:00

I'm not a good candidate for cat sitting. I am way too neurotic. This week I have two cats to feed while their respective owners are out of town. One of them is a very self-sufficient kitty who doesn't require much attention and could easily live off her girth fat for a year once the food runs out, so I thought she would be a cinch.

However, being someone who a) doesn't love cats, and b) tends to let her mind wander while being issued cat-care instructions, I forgot some key details. Like where in cat owner #1's humumgous kitchen the food could be found."No big deal", I thought "It has to be in here somewhere, so I'll find it eventually. Bingo! This blue bag with a kitty on it looks about right! Here you go kitty.... Wait! Why is this cat food so hard and grey. Why does it smell like toilet cleaner? Poor kitty! Oh hang on, could this be the cat litter?? Why yes, it most certainly is! Sorry cat. You'll just have to wait a little longer. But do you see that I'm trying?"

After washing the bowl and removing any last trace of the pesky litter pebbles (I didnt' want to develop a reputation as an incompetent, unreliable animal caretaker), I finally located the kibble. In the liquor cabinet? What's up with that? Once Fatty was fed, I was free to go. But having been issued the warning that she is absolutely not to go outside, EVER, I spent most of the night after questioning whether I had possibly opened any windows while I was there. I know, it's probably the early stages of OCD. Or something that requires medication.

Onto cat #2, who is really a dog, which makes him more my kind of cat (compared to cat #1) But the desperate "LOVE ME!! PET ME!! HOLD ME!!" look in his eyes forced me to spend far more time with him than would be considered normal for someone who is only expected to feed him. My abondonment guilt was so bad that I settled down for a night of TV viewing with him in a Tivo-free house. What a sacrifice. (Ok, this is my niece's cat, so the guilt was brought on in part by her cuteness, and knowing how happy she'd be that I hung out with her four-footed friend).

Shopping is whack

2003-08-08T20:06:00.000-07:00

I thought blogging was going to be addictive. It's not. I have abandoned my blog...

I just read an article on "soft addictions" and excessive blogging is one of them. So I guess I don't have a blogging problem. But I think shopping was on the list too, and I know I got that one down! Last weekend I experienced a major relapse and my addiction took over in full throttle.

I've been looking for the perfect multi-purpose purse for some time now. Last week in the window of Ambiance in the Haight I saw the very one. I sauntered into the store to get a better look and within seconds, my idle purse glance became a manic, crazed assault on ALL the merchandise.

"A new purse needs a new pair of shoes, right? Right. And who would honestly pass up the polka dot sundress with the grosgrain ribbon around the waist? Not me! And oh my god, is that a Marc Jacobs skirt? No, it's not, but it's a pretty damn good knockoff. Holy shit! Those shoes are only $29.99. Ok. Half a size too small, but $29.99!! Come on! They're practically giving them away, and my Shoe Repair gods could stretch these babies to a perfect fit! Oh, and I have that rehearsal dinner to go to, and I have absolutely nothing appropriate. I think that other skirt will do. Do I have anything to wear with it? No, but those earrings would be good. Now maybe this would be a good time to see if I can find a new work suit for the fall. Because when I'm looking for one for real, I won't find one. And it's always when you're not REALLY looking that you find what you want."

And so it goes. Once in an antique store in my neighborhood, I saw a sign that said, "The best time to buy an antique is when you see it." Well I've got that down with retail in general, but especially shoes and clothes. Yet each day, I face my closet with hatred and despair. I think that means that my addiction isn't soft at all, and is right up there with crack.

And so it begins

2003-07-25T11:50:00.000-07:00

So today I'm starting my blog. Today is one of many days where I've started the day saying "today I start my blog", and then I don't. But a lazy, motivation-sapped Friday is the perfect day to do it. Not that I haven't had one of those in my very recent past, but today is one where I can't even pretend to be working. Starting the (work) day with personal email and idly leafing through the latest copy of In Style sort of sets a precedent. If anyone actually witnessed this they won't have very high expectations of me. And I feel justified after sitting through two days worth of the kind of meeting that makes you want to rip your eyeballs out of their sockets. So here I am. It's the weekend. The "Bachelorette Weekend" I've been anticipating is upon me. This is really the first ever of its kind for me. I wasn't sure that people still did Bachelorette Weekend extravaganzas past the age of 30? Am I going to have to walk around with plastic penises in my cocktail? Will there be a penis cake? Am I going to have to talk to men in pleated Dockers and tassel-shoes who want to kiss the bride or any members of her wedding party? Anyway, so that's what I'm up to this weekend. 48 hours of Bachelorette silliness and a 4 week countdown to the Sea Foam.