Current Obsession

Take that those who say I'm not tech-saavy! Ok I'm not, but I did figure out how to put pictures on here all by myself. Yes, that's right, I figured out how to post a picture of a dutch oven on my blog site because I'm currently obsessed with it. Don't you say my life isn't crazy!

Yes, I Have Been Eating Retard Sandwiches Again

I have succumbed to a fate more horrible than death, and I assure you my tendency towards overstatement is not in effect here.

I have fallen in love, against my better judgment, with the TV show Grey’s Anatomy. I have exhausted all possible solutions for falling out of love, and I have thus come to the realization that nothing can be done. The show is overly hyped, overly stylized (c’mon you haven’t noticed that every set of scrubs Izzy wears perfectly compliments her “resident hot intern” figure?), and it is so musically manipulated that I often wait with anticipatory glee for the background music so I can listen to the words to tell how I am supposed to feel. But no matter how hard I try, I still love it! And at this point, I’m actually ok with that part. I’m not scared of a little guilty pleasure -- I revel in it actually. The horror, and yes – there’s horror, stems from the fact that this show is so bandwagon! So bandwagon, I assert, that it is almost competing with the caliber of fans that show up to the Staples Center when the Lakers are in the playoffs (Ah, how the beginning of basketball season has got me chomping at the bit to disparage the Lakers at any and all opportunities). Apologies for the digression.

So anyway, it’s bandwagon – and I HATE bandwagon! I don’t hate it in “boys who wear black eyeliner and listen to underground bands” kind of way, but in more of an anti “hey, let’s all meet up at the Sorority house on Thursday nights and borrow each other’s Bebe outfits” kind of way **insert retching noise here**. But at the same time, the show is really, really addictive! You see the only reason I even rented Season 1 (and only the first 5 episodes, mind you) was because I was sure I would watch one or two episodes and think to myself “McDreamy? uh…more like Mc-LAME-y! What waste of celluloid, and precious time that I could better spend killing brain cells watching Laguna Beach marathons”. But after two lousy episodes I began to wonder where Patrick Dempsey had been for the last 10 years, and mentally planning my trip to crispy, cool Seattle for a mini-vacay. Somebody get out my sorority roster, I’m about to invite the gals over!

I’m only one third of the way through Season 2, and already I’m glued to my dvd player at basically every free moment. I’m totally ashamed. I guess I should have asked for Bebe gift certificates for my birthday.

Did He Dazzle You With His Extensive Knowledge of Mineral Water?

So Garrett has this wonderful quality that I just can't get enough of. He just doesn't slack. Ok, so that's probably not totally true, but I'm convinced that his tendency to slack is just astronomically smaller than anyone else I've ever met. What makes it stand out to me is the ease with which he tackles things that have me, personally, breaking into a cold sweat. I swear its like he reads my diary. It's like I've made a list of all the things that I find difficult to do, put off until tomorrow, or hoped would do themselves, and he's read it, done it, and it's old news. And I'm so flippin jealous!!! So I was thinking tonight, what if I just took those things and just didn't slack. I mean really--how hard can that be? Read my own diary and just do it. You know, like instead of beating myself up sometimes because I don't floss twice a day like I should-- Well, what if I just start? I mean couldn't it be that easy? I know that sometimes life gets overwhelming, or the red wine flows like water, and well, flossing just doesn't seem to rank. But what if, instead of putting things off and feeling guilty about them--I just did them. Hmm..simple, bizarre, true.

I used to get up 5 days a week at like 3:45am. Now, who in their right mind does that? It's NUTS. But after awhile its just the norm. It's no big deal, its not painful. You can do it drunk, you can do it sober. You just do it. Now that I'm out of the habit it seems horrific, but I'm absolutely certan I could do it for a week or two and be absolutely back into the groove. So why can't I do that with say--keeping my closet organized, or grocery shopping on a regular basis, or packing a lunch for work everyday. These things aren't half as horrific as depriving myself of sleep, but they are so hard for me to make myself do.

Choosing to make yourself do something seems to be the key though, right? It reminds me of when I was living in LA and my old roommate would be working at 5am, going to school, doing his homework, working a 2nd job, getting decent grades and still finding time to spend time with his family in the valley, see his friends on the weekends, write a one man show, and hello---still be fun! One day I stopped him and said "Fredo, how do you do all that and not just collapse?" and he looked at me and said "Oh I just keep going." And I thought to myself--yes, yes he does. It was like profundity personified.

So every once in a while when I have alot going on and I am feeling overwhelmed, I often think of that conversation and realize that the decision is mine I will either choose to crap out, or choose to keep going. I know, this is not rocket science here, but it's major to me. So what if I did that kind of simplifying with all the little loose ends that I'm trying to deal with in my life. God knows I've got the list of 'em going. Instead of worrying, and whining, and being anxious at night--what if just didn't slack anymore? Ever.

It's gotta be possible right? I think I'm gonna try it.

Blogging From The Edge of Heaven

So I think I have finally recovered, and I will be sending one embossed glossy thank you card to a Mr. George Michael!

The fact that I chose to spend two of my back-to-back September weekends participating in the nuptials of two couples for which I have dear affection had an effect on me that I really hadn't anticipated. Ok let's just cut the shit, it was ROUGH! I know that sounds terrible, especially since both weddings were actually incredibly well executed, classy, romantic affairs where I definitely enjoyed myself, but the following week after the final wedding I just wasn’t my normal active self. I'm sure Garrett would disagree, since on the outside I was my normal list making, cruise directing, calendar obsessed self--trying to coordinate 500 things into every free minute of the next few months--but honestly, I just wasn't feeling like me. It was clear that I needed something to bring me back to the animated, excitable, easy-going-with-a-side-of-crazy gal that I normal enjoy being.

Discovering the genesis for my energy drain certainly wasn’t finding the cure for cancer. The middle of September had me pinned under a heavy workload Monday through Friday, and the stress involved in being a bridesmaid should seriously be right up there with death, divorce, and taxes. Throw in some inconvenient car trouble, and the incredibly painful onset of a clearly ill-timed kidney infection were all factors that lead to this wedding hangover, for sure! (Note to Kidney: If you ever do that to me again, there will be SERIOUS consequences. I'm talking hotel bathtubs, ice cubes, and ebay. Do you hear me?) A normal person might think a few extra Zs, an expertly prescribed cocktail of antibiotics, cranberry juice, and maybe just a day off work might do the trick. But the thing is, you'd be wrong. Actually the cure-all for life's woes comes courtesy of a little band called Wham!


Beginning much like any other weekend, Saturday morning found Garrett and I walking down to Peet’s for our much needed beverages of choice and to the J Street Noah’s bagels to stuff our hungover faces. After a hearty helping of carbohydrates and people watching, we headed over to The Beat to browse and finish our coffee, and it was here that I was reunited with a dear, dear friend.

With the intention of finding The Faint's remix album, maybe some Imogen Heap, and anything else that tickled our fancies, I came across the Wham! Album “Songs From The Edge Of Heaven.” To make it even sweeter -- it was in the $7.99 bargain bin. Needless to say my excitement level went through the roof. The album came out in 1986, and it was on heavy rotation in my bedroom’s hot pink boom box. Just looking at the cover filled my head with that overly produced homo-erotic synth-pop that had characterized a huge part of my life long before I was even old enough to contemplate the implication of George Michael's hot pink shorts. Saddened by the fact that Garrett couldn’t accompany me when I began to recite ‘Wham! Rap 86’, and wanting so desperately to relive my experience with ‘Last Christmas”-- you know, before it became a ubiquitous retail anthem heard annually while sifting through displays of Gap scarves, or gift packs at Victoria’s secret during the Holidays —- I immediately knew I had to have it. With an unsure but curious look on his face, my delicious boyfriend (continuing to spoil me as he did for some reason all weekend) purchased this album that had me off in my own giddy-land, and it was to the car we rolled…

…And listened. And once again, the curious look appeared on Garrett’s face as I played for him these anthems of my youth. Though he knew about Wham!, because he is 3 years younger he didn't have that same instant nostalgia. It was hysterical to hear these kitschy homosexual manifestos and think about how they must have originally sounded. It was like I had always, yet never, remembered it. How did I not know? I enjoyed every cheesy minute though, and when I got to Wham! Rap ’86, and belted out every ridiculous word —I had the realization that I had enjoyed this album 20 years ago! 20 YEARS AGO! It was mind boggling to be totally honest.

With my 28th birthday coming up this weekend it’s surely not that big of a deal to have enjoyed something 20 years ago, but it gave me pause for a second. I reflected, as I often do before my birthday-- and yes, with Wham! playing in the background, thank you very much— and I realized with the cutest boy in the world sitting next to me, that I am blissfully happy. I’m as blissfully happy as I was singing Wham! songs into the mirror on the back of my bedroom door when I was 8. I’m sure I don’t acknowledge it to him as often as I should, but I am so lucky that I have a boyfriend who loves me in all of my ridiculous juvenile glory. Who will buy me cheesy cds and fabulous bottles of wine all in a 24 hour time period. Who will sleep next to me when I am ridiculously drunk and emotional, and still tell me I look beautiful in my greasy ponytail the next day over bagels. It was that kind of love that I hoped for when I was just a wee Wham! fan fantasizing about my future with super hottie, George Michael — you know but with less hot pink shorts and indecent bathroom behavior.