Some Wednesday Nostalgia

So this week's nostalgia post doesn't hark back to the days of Sesame Street and Square One as usual. Inspired by the casting news of Jessica Walter as the matriarch on the new 90210 spin-off,today I have a little nostalgia for what is arguably one of the best television shows of all time. Below find three clips from Arrested Development.







Go to Hulu.com for more.

A Letter of Concern

Dear General News Outlets,

On behalf of the jaded, apathetic and reasonable, please cease all coverage of the so-called Miley Cyrus "photo scandal." I don't care, excuse me, we don't care that some 15 year old superstar is posing in an "artistic" photo spread for Vanity Fair. The photos are hardly scandalous. If I were you I'd be more concerned that she looks hypothermic or like Gollum's distant cousin (seriously, who thought that pale blue-hued skin and bright red lips was a good idea? She looks like the poster child for Goths 'R' Us or something) than the fact that she is "topless" behind a sheet. These photos are hardly newsworthy, and frankly, in my opinion, so is Miley Cyrus. You, popular media conglomerates, are only perpetuating the Miley Cyrus (or is it Hannah Montana?) machine, which has no want for perpetuation. I suppose her star power and money-making capacity pay your bills, but why create a scandal out of nothing? It's not even good tabloid gossip. It's purely annoying.

And while we're at it, can someone put a gag order on Spencer Pratt?

Sincerest regards,
Annie Stamell

Dirty Pirate Hooker

This article from CNN gives a little insight into todays pirates. Because I am sure you were curious. I would imagine it's a more realistic version of that crappy Jessica Alba Paul Walker clunker Into the Blue, but I guess the people might be less attractive. Actually, these high tech pirates probably have to be in good shape for scuba diving for treasure. Hey maybe that's where all the hot guys are--thieving on the open seas. Oh wait a minute, apparently all a pirate today can rake in is around $40,000. Never mind.

Oh and as of 4:52 pm PST, this was the leading story on CNN.com, picture and everything. Yes, a story about high tech pirates. Bless you CNN, bless you.

Soup's On

I used to associate soup with being sick. I think everyone does. When you are little and you get sick your mom gives you soup. For some it was chicken and stars, others chicken noodle, and just about everyone ate a grilled cheese with their creamy tomato. After my surgery, I associated soup with pain, suffering, and infinity. These sentiments of misery were all due to the fact that for eight weeks I was only able to eat liquid foods, which pretty much just means soup. I did gain an appreciation for the many varieties of soup one can make or find in random delis in New York. However, I recall sitting down at the dinner table, watching my family munch away on some delicious chewy meal, and then bursting into tears at the sight of yet another bowl of soup.

Currently, I associate soup with being poor. That is to say, I am poor and therefore I eat a lot of soup. I would say that on average, I eat soup for lunch anywhere from three to four days a week, and occasionally once or twice a week for dinner. For a while I was getting to eat yummy exciting lunches because my boss rarely had a lunch himself and therefore he'd buy me lunch from wherever he was ordering. That was fantastic. However over the past months I've noticed an increase in lunches as well as days he's out of the office, and therefore, soup, being perfectly inexpensive and easy to make (microwave) is my lunch du jour, almost every jour.

Whenever I first sit down with a bowl of soup I always look at it and think to myself, "yeah right, like this is actually going to fill me up." (And I speak to myself in a doubting sarcastic tone, as you might imagine). But everytime, I hear the spoon clink on the bottom of the bowl, signifying I am now a member of the clean plate club, I am, miraculously full. Soup is filling! It's the broth I guess--must be all the liquid. But even the smallest portion seems to satisfy my hunger. Even better, when 1 pm rolls around I am usually a hungry little hippo. When the boss orders lunch it often doesn't arrive until 1:45 or 2 pm, by which time I contemplating eating the frozen waffles someone left in the fridge a year ago. Two minutes in the microwave, my lunch is good to go!

I have to admit something. I might seem smart, but up until about two months ago I didn't know I could put soup in the microwave. That is to say, I didn't know that canned soup was microwaveable. I knew you couldn't microwave the can, but for some reason I always assumed that law applied to the contents within the can. Yes, I am lacking some brain cells or something. Anyways, once I made the discovery that by simply pouring the canned soup into a bowl the food could be microwaved, and thus digested, I was good to go.

So as I sit here now, blogging on my lunch break, I am eating a delicious bowl of noodles and vegetable soup. I checked my bank account this morning and realized I definitely couldn't afford ordering food today, or probably any day for the next two weeks or so. Soup is the perfect solution to my monetary problems and it's looking likely that this soup diet is going to continue for quite some time. Soup might equal poor to me, but one day, when I own half of Hollywood and am flying to my summer home in Maine on a private jet, maybe I'll ask my personal butler for a bowl of chicken noodle and have a good laugh with my staff about those days as an assistant when soup was a way of life. Then we'll all throw piles of money into the air and maybe drop bags filled with diamonds over somewhere in Kansas (because God knows there's not a whole lot in Kansas except people who love God) and then when I get to Maine I'll just buy the place and try to move it a little closer to California, maybe make Maine and California my own private estates and then I can create the wild bird preserve that I've always wanted and attract bird watchers from all across the globe and... Sorry things got a little out of hand there. Mmm, soup.

My Eyes! My Eyes!

I just clicked on People's website and the first thing I see is the below photo of Heidi and Spencer from The Hills. Upon viewing, it induced feelings of nausea, pain, and extreme awkwardness. It really, really, REALLY makes me want to vom. And because I had to suffer this image, I am now making all of you do the same.



And don't forget, The Hills airs at 10 pm Monday nights on MTV. Sadly, I will as always be watching, and giving my disgusted opinions of it in the days to come.

9021No way!

In the words of the recently provocative Gossip Girl ad campaign, OMFG. Lori Loughlin is set to co-star on the new 90210 spin-off. Full House lovers of the world unite!

We are thismuch closer to getting JOHN STAMOS on what is sure to be a new must-see show. Which means John Stamos, despite losing to me in the first two of our Stamos v. Stamos competitions, is, and forever will be, awesome.

And yes I realize I said I would stop with all the lame 90210 puns but I just can't help myself. They are so punny!!!!!

P.S.

I didn't make it to Coachella this weekend. A hangover and a clogged kitchen sink got in my way. Apparently I missed seeing Shia LaBoeuf tanning on the grass. Bygones.

New Obsession for 2009

I think I've talked about how much I love Planet Earth before. (The television show, but I also enjoy the planet). I keep my 5 favorite episodes stored permanently on our DVR and will randomly watch it when I have nothing better to do or when I feel sad and just a few minutes makes me feel oh so happy.

Well, in today's daily blog-reading rounds, I came upon the trailer for the new movie Earth, by the new Disney Nature venture. It looks AWESOME. I can't wait for Earth Day 2009!

And another one

Now this is getting ridiculous. I have had enough of artificial holidays, here people. Today, in the City of Los Angeles (per Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa) is "The Hollywood Reporter Day." Why? Well that's because today, The Hollywood Reporter, one of the industries two longest-run trade magazines, has relaunched with a new format.

Personally, I am not a fan of the new format. Gone is the signature header and replaced is something a little too flashy in a font that is unfamiliar and thus unwelcome. Don't people know by now that the general public doesn't do well with change? (And by general public I mean ME.)

Anyways, go out and get your new issue of THR and say hello to the future. Or something.

Cubicle Life

It's another artificial holiday: National Cubical Day! Oh joy. Per usual, I've got a terrible case of the Mondays, and at the moment feel that on many levels, the following quote from Office Space really sums up how I feel about cubicles, and desk jobs in general:

"Michael, we don't have a lot of time on this earth! We weren't meant to spend it this way. Human beings were not meant to sit in little cubicles staring at computer screens all day, filling out useless forms and listening to eight different bosses drone on about mission statements."

Just this morning I was imagining what other careers I could pursue that would allow me to take vacation time whenever I wanted but were also stable and lucrative. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know.

To go or not to go?

The brain is functioning at a low capacity this morning. Oh Friday, you get me every time...

With that in mind, I am considering going to Coachella tomorrow. For those who don't know, Coachella is a three day music festival in the middle of the California desert. I think of it as the West Coast Bonnaroo (which I want to last year) but with less dust and a different line-up. Anyways, I have some friends who are going and it would appear that at the very least I have a place to crash, so the temptation to just drive to Indio for some spontaneous music loving is... high. This is likely to be a terrible decision as I have no tickets, will probably get stuck in 8 hour traffic and am completely unprepared (and still on my bronchitis inhaler woohoo), but I'm feel adventurous.

Then again, there's a good chance I'll be really hungover tomorrow morning and I am supposed to go to the UCLA Book Fair for work. Work smerk. I am also getting over the illness and need sleep... or I need the adventure... or I need the rest... hmmm.

To go or not to go? Right now it's looking about 50-50.

If all else fails...

Apparently I could get hired at Moviefone. I just had to record all the names and extensions for everyone in our company, and can I just say that I kicked ass. Not only did I have great diction, annunciation and inflection, but I didn't even botch up the last name of the chick in our office with the hyphenated Spanish-British name. Go me!

Yeah so if you desperately miss my dulcet tones, just call the main line for the company and I will tell you to listen carefully because the menu options have changed.

No Thanks

The newest issue of Time magazine.



Because that's not creepy at all.

How to Survive a 5 Hour Layover in Mexico City Airport

This post is in honor of my good friend and roommate (Roomie #1), who leaves tomorrow for a week-long adventure in Nicaragua (which she insists on calling Nicas Ricas because that is what the locals call it... or so she claims, personally I think it's annoying and I've started doing it too which really annoys me). She is about to embark upon an active vacation where she will kayak, mountain bike, sail, and hike a volcano. I can't wait to send her annoying emails about my trivial life in LA while she is giving out crayons to the children in Nicaraguan villages and dodging bullets at small bodegas, because isn't there like a civil war going on in Nicaragua or something?

Anyways, here is a little guide I've created to help her out during her five hour layover in Mexico City in the wee hours of the morning. Please note that she doesn't really need this guide and is perfectly capable of surviving this potentially dangerous but likely exciting visit to the airport en el capital. Also, she's really ethnic looking. Usually people assume she is Persian (she's Italian) and I think she'll easily pass for Mexican (please take that as a compliment).

1. Do not do anything that pegs you as American. This includes speaking loudly, carrying an iPod, or wearing anything that contains any of the following images: eagles, the American flag, George W. Bush, or the Canadian flag (because then you will instantly be tagged as American who is posing as a Canadian because no one cares about Canadians).
2. I can't really think of anything else right now.

Okay so that wasn't really very helpful to Ashleigh or to anyone, at all, but I guess if all else fails just say "Lo ciento" if someone threatening approaches. Oh and I recommend going to some sort of newsstand and buying lots of Mexican candy. I spent a summer in Mexico at a summer camp in a random village two hours north of Mexico City and every week we had "Tienda" which was some weird sort of candy store we got to get all sorts of goods from. The candy in Mexico is fantastic. I especially recommend these things called Kranky (if I remember correctly... maybe they were Krispy), which are like chocolate covered corn flakes and they are delicious.

Those are my wise words of the day. Adios.

National Geographic and Antique Monkeys (among other things)

Last night I was at a friend's house and she had a recent issue of National Geographic sitting on her coffee table which sparked all sorts of enthusiastic conversation about shared memories and effective brand marketing. The current issue was about China, with a fantastic photo essay featured inside. About five minutes looking at the magazine and I felt like I was ten years old again, in the old house I was born and raised in, standing in our living room and having to get past a freaky Victorian monkey with cymbals and beady eyes to get to our impressive National Geographic archive. Yes, I did write that correctly--a freaky Victorian monkey, and it looked exactly like this:



Let me give a little background...

On the first floor of my house growing up, we had a formal living room and dining room that we used for dinner parties, special occasions and holidays. Occasionally I would wander into these cold, austere rooms and look at all the books in the bookshelves and the pictures on the walls, and pause for a moment to sit on one of the two outrageously loud yellow sofas around the fireplace. Along one of the walls was a built-in that was shelving from about the waist up, and below were cupboards the mostly stored my parents' extensive record collection. In the middle of these cupboards was one section that for some reason always held a few Christmas decorations and stacks upon stacks of saved National Geographic magazines. Every issue of the magazine was like a rich textbook of some fascinating foreign country, full of maps, photos, and enough information to adequately support any school project. The yellow binding of the National Geographics caused the entire stack to appear even more encyclopedic, with volumes upon volumes of yellow treasure troves of ideas and information.

Now, as I mentioned, next to the stacks of the National Geographics were a few random Christmas decorations. These included some snow globes, a few small toy carolers, and I think a little Nordic Santa Claus in a sled. And the monkey. For some reason, that freaky evil monkey with it's menacing eyes, and perfectly functioning symbols was sitting right there in the Christmas decorations, next to the National Geographics. It was as though he was the guard, and every time I wanted to look at the Great Coral Reef or acres of beautiful untouched fjords in Scandinavia, I would have to get past that creepy simian.

To this day, we still have the monkey, and he is still with the Christmas decorations, even though we've moved twice since the house I grew up in. I've gotten over the eerie stare and grown out of my childish fear, but my brother hasn't. It's the best prank ever to put the evil monkey in random places in the house and watch the freak-out ensue. I am sure that the picture alone will give him enough of a start.

In sum, I associate National Geographic with that creepy monkey, but what it really reminds me of is a certain melancholy nostalgia and a specific memory of a time, a place, and a sentiment that I associate as a youthful innocence and curiosity. It's only with fondness that I think of National Geographic--of my parents, of Christmas, of cold rooms with yellow sofas, of antiquity, snow globes, and monkeys.

Things You Can Find on Wikipedia

Did you know Wikipedia has a featured picture of the day? I wonder if this happens every day... I am guessing it does... Anyways, here is today's (I think it's really cool!):



And here is what Wikipedia has to say about it:

Pronounced sun dogs on both sides of a setting sun in New Ulm, Minnesota. Note the halo arcs passing through each. Sun dogs are an atmospheric optical phenomenon primarily associated with the reflection or refraction of sunlight by small ice crystals making up cirrus or cirrostratus clouds. Often, two or more can be seen on opposite sides of the sun simultaneously.

Ooooohh.

Um...

Please read this article. You'll thank yourself. It has to do with penis theft. Yes, penis theft.

Happy Administrative Professionals Day

Apparently today is a holiday. Today is the day in which we celebrate all the administrative professionals of the world, aka, me.

Yes, my friends, it is Assistants Day which is sort of like Bus Driver Appreciation Day, a holiday created to make all the non-bus drivers feel better about themselves, something only the little people care about, and a day when the under appreciated continue to feel under appreciated. Except bus drivers get cool homemade cards and apples and stuff. Actually teachers get apples, I don't know what bus drivers get. Maybe some cookies or donuts or something.

Anyways, in honor of this special day and those we honor (again, me) I've done something really liberating I would like to share and I think it is something a lot of other assistants should do.

I ordered myself some business cards. Yes, business cards. I know you're thinking, wait a minute Annie don't you have a job and isn't your six month mark (according to your resume... cough cough) coming up in May? Yes, that is all true, but the thing is--I don't have business cards, and apparently I don't get them... yet. I guess if I am here for significantly longer and anticipating staying for longer than that, then sure business cards make sense. Thing is, assistants fly in and out of desks so rapidly here in Hollywood and if I know myself and my current state of mind, getting business cards for this desk is probably unnecessary. So yes, I ordered myself some lovely and cheap business cards. And guess what business I am promoting? That's right people, this blog. Now I can really start with the self-promotion. (I don't think the daily updates to my Facebook profile or mass blind emails are doing all that much. Oh and thanks Dad, I know you're telling all your business friends, but how many of them are really like, yeah, let's read Jon Stamell's crazy daughter's blog.) Now I can finally share Jaw Wired Shut with EVERYONE.

So, Happy Assistants Day to me. Anyways, for all those other assistants out there--go order yourself some business cards, because you deserve it. Actually, now that I think of it, I am guessing that most other assistants have business cards. So maybe, it's just me. Yaaay, me.

Happy Birthday Jenna!

I know you're one of my 5 loyal readers so here's a special blog birthday shout out just for you. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! No go back to work.

Eureka!

So I was browsing EW.com as I regularly do about nine times a day, and came upon this story, about the New York Comic Convention, which made me laugh with glee (Are, too! D2! Best come back EVER.) And then I was looking at this hilarious photo slideshow and it dawned on me: anyone can go to one of these comic conventions, and while I would love to have to go for something work related (makes me appear to be less of a loser, and I think the people who go to these things far exceed me in any claim to nerdom I have), but why not just go, because at the very least, it would be a hilarious adventure and provide some great writing material, right? RIGHT!

Well, even better... I started asking around the office if anyone had ever been in the past. It turns out one of the managers goes every year. Every year. AND I AM GOING THIS YEAR. I haven't even talked to my boss about this, and it might turn into a Saturday-Sunday thing only, but now I am starting to think that maybe I can somehow make this work related and get a little reimbursement and maybe hang with the freaks and geeks but I would really be there with the managers, agents, press, and movie makers... AND OH MY GOD MAYBE DAVID DUCHOVNY WILL BE THERE. If you can't tell I am totally geeking out right now and having a SERIOUS moment, but this all just sort of came to me... Okay then I just remembered that the premiere of The X-Files: I Want To Believe is July 25 and OMG YOU GUYS it conflicts with Comic Con so what will I do if my BIG GOAL is to go the premiere but then I have this GREAT opportunity to see what sort of freaks this country has to offer at the biggest fan convention EVER.

Okay my shortness of breath is returning, I need my inhaler (for my bronchitis induced bronchial asthma, duh... wow I am not that much of a loser, puhleeze) and then I need to just take a moment to laugh about the fact that just yesterday I was sort of feeling at a miserable crossroads in my career life and then today I decide to go to Comic Con. There's a silver lining to everything, my friends.

P.S. I am realizing now that I talk about my geekiness all the time. I would like to add a little disclaimer that I am generally normal and that this love for weird sci fi pop culture phenomena is just one little facet of my personality. I also love trees (see Earth Day post) and J. Crew and beer and puppies and hippie music festivals.

Happy Earth Day!

Hey Everyone, it's Earth Day! So take some time to sit without the lights on, or ride your bike, maybe recycle those 40 beer cans sitting in your trash can, and don't leave the water running when you brush your teeth.

According to the hosts of NPR this morning, Earth Day in LA has been declared as a day that is officially "car free." I'm sorry, what? CAR FREE? In LA? Hah. Right. Are the people of this city stupid? I was trying to think earlier if it would be feasible for me to have gotten to work this morning without driving and while I am sure it would have been, it would probably involve upwards of two hours of my time, several bus changes, some detours to parts of the city I wouldn't ever need to visit, and a lot of Mexicans. Okay, that was terribly racist, but there is some truth to the matter, right? Right? (Stop judging, it's a joke!) Anyways, it would have been miserable if I had attempted to not drive to work. I guess there is some sort of Eco Parade going on over a few blocks of Wilshire Blvd, but that is a pretty stupid idea as it means people are just going to get pissed off and traffic will be worse and I just can't imagine how any of this is Earth-friendly at all.

In any case, Happy Earth Day, go hug a tree. If you know me well, you know I love talking about trees and birds and identifying local vegetation and animal tracks and all those other things I am interested in and the weird parts of my personality that date back to summer camp and being a Junior Maine Woodsman and living on a farm for six months when I was 17. Yeah, so go hug a tree for me.

I am not the geekiest person in the world

But this guy is.

(Maybe we're soulmates?)

Word of the Day

Luddite



According to Wikipedia, "The Luddites were a social movement of British textile artisans in the early nineteenth century who protested – often by destroying mechanized looms – against the changes produced by the Industrial Revolution, which they felt threatened their livelihood."

Or, in more colloquial usage, someone who fears technology. For example, my boss, my step-mom, one of my history teachers in high school, and Stephen King (hence the photo). I prescribe a pretty broad definition to the term and use it to describe people who not necessarily fear technology, but are just plan bad it at. For example, I have to give my boss regular cut-and-paste tutorials. Granted, he grew up a different generation and kids today come out of the womb with an iPod in one hand, knowing what ROTFLMAO means (and I had to say out the words to type the acronym, mind you), but still, he's what I would call a Luddite.

Luddites are great. I don't know about the early nineteenth century Luddites, but I love Luddites today--they are such a rarity and I find them so entertaining. Like, why fear technology? Or why is it so hard to understand? Just embrace the fact that in ten years half the population will be robots. Or not. Whatever. Learn how to cut and paste though, please.

And I thought I had an eventful Sunday...

Apparently I should have been in Boulder, CO yesterday.

Paparazzi Drive By

Last night around 9 pm I was driving with two friends on Main Street in Santa Monica, a nice hub of stores, boutiques, restaurants, and local activity. We'd just dropped off another friend at his apartment around the corner and in the process had seen what looked like a large crowd including paparazzi huddled in front of some restaurant or store. We decided to do a drive by, and because "paparazzi love to talk" (or at least that is what I claimed to my friends) we thought that for such a crowd there had to be someone worthwhile inside.

It had been a long day, but in our semi-comatose states, we drove up to the front of the restaurant and yelled out the window to the crowd of paps and very stern looking bouncers and in our weak voices screamed, "Hey! Who's in there?" A few of them turned, looked at us incredulously, said nothing or mumbled something incoherent and irrelevant, so we figured it couldn't have been much of anything and we drove home, thinking nothing much of it.

Well, if paparazzi did love to talk, then they would have told us that inside that restaurant were Victoria and David Beckham, Kate Beckinsale and hubby, Eva Longoria Parker, Will Smith, Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale and a whole slew of celebs out to dinner for a Scientology gathering, oops I mean, for Victoria Beckham's birthday party. Let's be honest, if those paps had told us who was there, even in our state of exhaustion we probably would have parked the car and joined the crowd--I mean, what other obligations did we have on this Sunday night? That's a pretty good random celeb spotting. I could have asked Tom Cruise to give me a little more info on Dianetics, or what it's like to be L. Ron's chosen prophet. Maybe Eva could have given me the 411 on her new restaurant and we could have become besties after I told her I was a fan of San Antonio. Maybe Gwen Stefani would have wanted to hire me to be the new nanny for her young one and bun in the oven. But, no. We proceeded with our drive by and returned home. I went to bed. Bygones.

On a side note, one of my friends, Roomie #1 in fact, asked if we could still just say that we'd seen all those people. I don't think a crowd of annoyed paparazzi is quite the same thing.

Back to Monday

Ladies and Gents, I am BACK. Back to work and back to blogging. I might still have a nasty case of bronchial asthma, but they make inhalers for such weaknesses. Yes, I am on the mend and ready to take on the world.

Not so fast. A few reasons why I've got a case of the Mondays, again:

1. Another epic weekend. I got plenty of sleep and rest, but plenty of unplanned and spontaneous events went down to make this another great one.
2. Bossman is back from London. This doesn't bode well for blogging, or for a my first full work day after about six of resting.
3. Yesterday at a concert where Ziggy Marley played, he reminded me that there is one solution and love is my religion. Why on earth would I want to spend 12 hours in a cubicle after hearing such sage advice?
4. I can no longer drink my codeine cough syrup during the day (getting loopy at work isn't such a bright idea). Boo, Monday, boo.

And thus commences another work week, and one day closer to the day I quit my job and start hanging out in LA coffee shops to pursue my "writing career."

The Great Crappy Rom Com Movie Marathon of 2008

I've spent the past three days either in my bed or on the sofa. When I haven't been sleeping, I've watched a total of ten movies. Yes ten.

I have to admit something about these movies. When I am sick, the only movies I want to watch are really, really, really crappy romantic comedies (henceforth referred to as rom coms). You're probably wondering how crappy they can be, and let me tell you, it can get bad, but this time I seem to have outdone myself. It would also appear that the worse I feel the crappier they get. With the exception of three of the ten, it was one crapfest after the next. And now, in chronological viewing order, here are my reviews:

Tuesday (feeling pretty miserable)
I Could Never Be Your Woman
I guess I should start out my brief review of this film by mentioning that this never made it to theaters. Nope, this was a direct-to-DVD release, exlusively at Blockbuster. Thing is, I am a huge Paul Rudd fan, as well as Michelle Pfieffer, and as they were the romantic leads I just couldn't resist. The general premise is Michelle is an over 40 TV writer and Paul is the new star of her show. Rom com ensues. It was somewhat entertaining to watch a film about this lovely industry I am now a part of, but overall the movie was offbeat, and while it was a little painful and trite at times, I will say it was better than some of the fluff I watched later on.

I Am Legend
Okay this isn't a romantic comedy at all, I realize. But it's one of the nine movies I watched so I have to include it. You all know the general idea--Will Smith is the last man on earth fighting off some deadly plague that turns humans into crazy zombie-like creatures who've taken over Manhattan. What's the deal with all these movies that predict doomsday in New York City? Cloverfield and now this... and there are probably a bunch of others (I am still too sick to provide well-researched evidence at the moment, but just trust me here). Stop trying to destroy NYC movie-makers! Anyways, I enjoyed this, but I wouldn't recommend watching before a codeine-induced sleep--it makes for weird dreams.

Fever Pitch
I love this movie, I do. I will love any and all movies in which the Boston Red Sox are a central component to the film. Sure it's hokey and Jimmy Fallon as an actual rom com actor is a little painful to watch at times, but it's fun and cute and brings back all those unbelievable feelings of when the Sox won the world series in 2004. That was awesome.

Wednesday (worst day, illness-wise, and you'll see in my movie selections)
Catch and Release
This movie is hardly a rom com. Bad idea Jennifer Garner, I hope you took some time to seriously consider your agent choice over this one. The entire movie starts out with Garner's character, an outdoorsy yet perfectly coiffed girl named Gray, at her fiance's funeral, on what was supposed to be her wedding day. Yeah, because that has ROM COM written all over it. There are lots of quirky secondary characters and weird plot movement and ultimately she falls in love with dead-fiance's best friend. It's uncomfortable.

L.A. Story
This is less of a rom com and more of a certifiable good movie. I saw this years ago but didn't get most of the jokes so it was fun to re-watch after living in LA for some time. Steve Martin wrote and stars and it's pretty bizarre with a forgettable cast except for a perfectly selected Sarah Jessica Parker. It's also a sweet return to the early 90s, with some lame 80s jokes thrown in. Definitely recommend.

No Reservations
Another one where someone dies in the beginning. What's the deal with all these rom coms needing people to die for there to be love and humor. Something isn't right about that. Anyways, Catherine Zeta-Jones (who has difficulty masking her accent) plays a high strung chef who has to look after her dead sister's niece and gets in fights with Aaron Eckhart's "opera loving sous chef" (I think he's described that way on the back of the DVD). Eckhart is supposed to be hot I guess but his haircut just makes him look awkward and really emphasizes the giant cleft in his chin. I saw him at the Whitney last year in NYC and he looked much more attractive in real life. Anyways, the movie predictable, not all that funny, but there are some steamy love scenes and when a girl is knee deep in amoxicilin and more cough drops than the local CVS, I'll take what I can get.

Because I Said So
This was disgustingly bad. So bad it hurt. Mandy Moore might be beautiful and they may have found a great wardrobe consultant for the show, but wow was this painful. Diane Keaton could really do better. It was painful. I don't even know what else to say. Three sisters and an overbearing mother and internet dating. If that doesn't sound like hell than I don't know what does. I don't even understand how this movie got made in the first place. And yes, Mandy sings. Twice.

Thursay (first signs of improvement, but a return trip to the doctors)
Failure to Launch
Seen this one before too, and I actually like it. Sue me. How can you not enjoy Matthew McConaughey? And Sarah Jessica Parker? And Bradley Cooper who, in my opinion, is one of the most underrated actors out there today (go watch Alias and you'll see what I mean). Sure it's predictable and everyone's hair is way too perfect, but it's fun and easy and pretty much the poster child for a rom com.

The TV Set
Not a rom com but a well done look at all the politics that go behind getting a pilot on the air. This was actually a great film to watch now having worked in this town for a little, as I think it was accurate in portraying how networks, pilot season, and TV production work. Okay yes, I watched it for David Duchovny, but it was really good, I swear.

Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
Another one I've already seen, and definitely not as good as the first Bridget Jones but a guaranteed laugh. (Actually not so much laughing because at the moment that leads to violent coughing.) Colin Firth makes me feel better. He's an antibiotic to any sickness. Ew I can't believe I just wrote that. I need to return to health so I can no longer waste away in the land of crappy movies.

I just realized how much I spent at Blockbuster in the past three days. I don't know what's more embarrassing--the total bill of all these crappy movies or the fact they all know me there now. I'm that sick girl with bad taste.

Some Tuesday Nostalgia

This clip might be my all time favorite bit from Sesame Street. It's perfect; another brilliant usage of Phillip Glass's effortless composing skills and answering a question that surely all kids have--how are crayons made?

M.I.A.

If you've been at all curious as to where I've been all day and why there haven't been any brilliant posts on the latest episode of The Hills or how annoying it is that celebrities don't know how to use contraceptives and are getting pregnant left and right... well, it's because I am sick. Sick as a dog, and even though I went into work around 8:30 am, by 9:30 am I was being forced out by concerned co-workers. I half-watched a crappy rom com and have been sleeping since noon.

Being sick sucks, especially when it's a beautiful day out or when you have so many things you'd rather be doing with a day home from work. It sucks to just sit in bed all day, hoping you will magically feel better soon. Cough syrup with codeine is not as effective as you would think, but it sure does make you loopy.

This is reminding me of when I would post after I had my surgery and was so out of it I couldn't tell you what I had written two paragraphs ago. I also couldn't feel my face... so that's something.

Phone Sex? Codeine?

Hmm. Twice today I've had people tell me I sound like or would make a great phone sex operator. And earlier when telling someone on the phone my name, they responded, "Great, Hi Sammy." Um, no?

I sound like a man. Or actually, I sound like a transvestite or a low-voiced woman who's trying to hard. I have a killer sore throat and a sweating problem. (Oh wait, the sweating problem was a pre-existing condition, please ignore.) All I really want right now is a doctor who is liberal in prescribing medications, specifically cough syrup with codene, and maybe my bed as well.

Actually I am going to see some dude named Dr. Qua (Dr. Quack?) in a half hour (I think he's Ethiopian or something... yes...) so hopefully I will return to the office with a purse full of meds.

Otherwise I guess I could spend my night picking up guys with my hot phone sex voice. Er... that's awkward.

The Weekend Life

Every now and then there comes a Monday where your exhaustion levels are unusually high, where you have to struggle to stay awake at your cubicle (and it's only 11:30 am), where your throat is so sore and you know those vodka shots were the worst idea on Saturday night--but a Monday like that, a Monday like today, is merely the price to pay for a fantastic weekend.

I was having a conversation with a good friend last night in which we discussed some of the perks of living in LA. An incredible benefit we both easily agreed on was that weekends in LA can often feel like tropical vacations. Actually, I pretty much feel like every weekend I am taking time off from work, doing vacation activities, and enjoy life as though I had stepped out of Corona commercial. LA weekends are pretty fantastic. I'm not going to get into all the nitty grittys of my weekend, but I will provide a brief list to include some choice moments.

1. World Cafe on Main St. has the most incredible goat cheese, mushroom, and spinach pizza. Mmmm getting hungry just thinking about it.
2. Love that I can just wake up on a Saturday morning and walk to down to the beach.
3. Three good friends visiting from out of town is a guaranteed great time.
4. Sailing + beer = perfection.
5. Skipping the line at some hot, happening, au moment club feels pretty great.
6. Seeing Brody Jenner at said hot, happening, au moment club is great. He is just as attractive in real life as he is on The Hills.
7. Getting thrown out of said hot, happening, au moment club because one of the visiting friends is too drunk to stand makes the evening even more hilarious.
8. Taking a cab to another club and telling the bouncers that the friend who can't stand up on her own was roofied is a brilliant strategy for getting into places when you clearly shouldn't.
9. A $65 cab ride back home to Santa Monica might blow... but it's worth it for the memories... or lack thereof.
10. Drives to Malibu to sightsee are perfect Sunday hangover activities.
11. Pulling over on PCH so hungover friends can vomit might be a little dangerous but is completely necessary.
12. Pinkberry solves all problems.
13. Sitting on my balcony on a Sunday night and having casual conversations with random passerbys below--great entertainment and a great way to make some new friends.

I want to live in a place where weekends are forever... I am so not cut out for cubicle life...

Surprise

So in a surprising twist of fate, and even after f-ing up twice at work today I was sent home early. Unfortunately I can't enjoy the sunny afternoon because I am sick. However, on my way home I did have two excellent star sightings.

I had to stop by my boss's home to drop some stuff off for his wife (yes, I too didn't know errand-running was in the job description, but it's Hollywood so I should have expected it) and on my way home swung by the Brentwood Country Mart where there is a City Bakery, one of my favorite New York transplants. When in City Bakery getting a lemonade I spotted Felicity herself, Keri Russell, having an animated conversation with a friend at a table in the corner. She looks just like she does on TV, although I wish her hair had been curlier/nappier and perhaps if she had been wearing some Chuck Taylors and maybe wearing a napsack, ooooh or maybe if Scott Speedman had walked in and said something really poignant and touching but just not sensitive enough--well then that would have been perfect.

When I was leaving, I drove by Bruce Willis getting out of his car with his girlfriend, who promptly jumped into his arms and straddled him while he carried her. She was a poorman's Demi and the PDA was unnecessary.

Regardless, not too shabby for a five minute trip to get some lemonade.

Now I'm home in bed... trying to nap... blogging instead.... always blogging...

Trailer Time

It's that time on Friday where I check out and check in with my my friends online. Roommie #1 takes this time on Fridays to watch movie trailers online, and passed along this one to me.



I can't wait. I love these kinds of films. This one looks totally crazy, like a Dali painting come to life. I love Lee Pace, I love the idea and I am pumped to see it. Anyone else?

It's Friday! It's Friday! It's Friday!

I love Friday more than I love London.

(real post about something relevant to follow, promise)

Awww

This is me, probably age 10.. I actually have no idea what age I am. Is that weird? Should I be able to detect my own age from a photograph? I should probably remember my age based on those pajamas. Actually that's not saying anything... I still sleep with three stuffed animals on my bed every night. Truth.

Anyways, my dad just emailed that photo to me, writing "I found the perfect photo for your blog. Not exactly jaw wired shut." Nope, that jaw is definitely all over the place. Flash forward ten years or so and I'm being wheeled out of an operating room with my face more swollen than a volleyball after a seven hour surgery and a jaw that's just been physically reconstructed with six pieces of titanium. Oh and one behind the chin. That was fun.

In a strange way, the recovery, although miserable, was a special time--a reversion to the days when we were little and our parents would take care of us when we were sick. Having someone dote on you when you feel like crap and can't move your face--that's definitely comforting.

I'm having one of those days, where even though LA is beautiful, and I am so happy that this is where I am and despite the occasional Devil Wears Prada moments, this is what I am doing... I miss home, I miss Maine, and I miss being a kid with no worries, and no responsibilities.

I also miss the days of wearing sweet pjs like that and it being socially acceptable (and I wonder why I'm still single...)

I Love London

Here are some of the benefits of my day, with my boss being in a time zone that is 8 hours ahead.

1. I can wear jeans to work.
2. The phones aren't ringing incessantly like normal.
3. I haven't been wearing shoes since 10:30
4. Around 3 pm he's unavailable (in bed) and I feel pretty liberated to do anything.
5. I went to go read some scripts in the bossman's office and took a nap on his sofa for an hour.

Incredible.

Addicted to Technology

I just clicked on a website I look at daily to find the site had been redesigned. Everything was the same, and yet strangely different. While I could still access the same links and read the same articles I've always looked at, something was off and everything had slightly changed.

I find that when this happens, when websites experience a sort of facial reconstruction, I always feel a bit unsettled the first few times I look at the site. It's a jarring event. What's stranger still, is that when something like this happens, I am suddenly incredibly aware of my dependency and addiction to information gathering online.

In the morning when I first sit down at the computer I visit essentially the same websites, in roughly the same order, every single day. These range from The New York Times to Facebook to PopSugar to Defamer. A nice mix of news, gossip, and pop culture. It's become a part of my routine, so much so, that I now have to follow this parade of checking up on websites every time I first sit down at a computer. At work, when I am at the computer for hours, I will check these sites several times a day. I have become so accustomed to being able to receive the latest news instantly, whenever I want it, that whenever this knowledge source is altered or cut off, I feel lost, untethered, and a little insane.

I like to think I am not alone here, and this is one of the many symptoms of the current media-obsessed generation. We are used to getting information now and we want it now. When that doesn't happen we freak out. Maybe it's just me?

Looking back on my road trip from Maine to California, that sense of being cut off was pretty incredible. There definitely were a few places where we wanted email access and almost everywhere we had wireless connections, but it wasn't the same need or dependency that I've developed since moving. Or actually, the need and dependency probably started growing back when we used AOL for our web browser and I was addicted to AIM. Clearly, cubicle life has done little to stifle the obsession.

Existential crisis of the day: I just want to cut all these ties to technology, leave behind the cell phones, the PDAs, the computers, the iPods, all of it... I just want a few days of total disconnected freedom.

I Just Can't Stop

I imagine you've all been waiting with baited breath for my commentary on this week's installment of The Hills, especially after my previous irate diatribe, however, I am going to make this one as brief as I possibly can. I feel annoyed to be writing about the show, much how I feel when watching.

This week I tried something new. Rather than suffer through commercials, Alicia Keys, and Heidi's inanimate lips, I didn't watch the show live. In fact, I didn't watch The Hills on Monday. I watched it on Tuesday. So while the rest of the water coolers around LA were exhausted with Lauren-Heidi-OMG Stephanie rehash, I kept my distance. Best decision ever. I got to fast forward through the credits, Spencer's terrifying smirks, and the commercials that make me want to throw my TV off the balcony. I watched the two episodes last night and have the following observations to make.

1. Clearly Stephanie is still catching her bearing on a reality television show, as she is struggling with a flattering and appropriately trendy hairstyle. Stephanie, if you happen to be reading this (what do you bet she's one of today's 45 readers? I'm going to go with no) do something about those bangs. It is no longer 1992 and you are no longer in second grade. Try a little less make up while you are at it.

2. Audrina looks like an alien. However, I do enjoy that she often seems pretty over the whole Hills atmosphere. She's got this whole hipster thing going on. Good for you Audrina, you wear that crocheted beret well, even if you do come from another planet.

3. Brody is so incredibly attractive it hurts. I mean wow. Wow. Wow.

4. Lo should write an advice book. Or, I would like to take Lo with me everywhere I go so she could just drop a perfectly succinct one-liner to counsel me when I am making decisions. I could use that. "Hey Lo, should I buy this dress?" "Sweetie, you know that purple isn't your color, stick with blues." So wise. So true.

5. Lauren and Whitney could go tete-a-tete for Most Expressive Eyebrows ever. Lauren's also a little bit of a psycho, and her conversation with Audrina at the end of the episode (re: Plastic Doll With Big Fake Lips Who Wants Her Mirror Back So She Can Stare at Non-Moving Lips) was painful.

6. I don't know how they do it, but whoever puts together those grand sweeping landscape shots of LA makes the city look beautiful. I intelligently mentioned to my roommate last night that I bet The Hills does a lot for the Los Angeles tourism industry. Then I remembered that it probably doesn't need much help in the tourist department. Right.

7. We do have fashion in common.

As always, I was disgusted with myself for watching, am disgusted to be writing about it now, but, I just. Can't. Stop.

Some Wednesday Nostalgia

You have to get through about 30 seconds of those standard annoying PBS TV intro ads, but then you'll hear those familiar tinkling notes and be transported back to your favorite neighborhood... (Unless you were one of those people who thought Mr. Rogers was creepy. I, however, love him. Hmm. Some might find me creepy. Deal with it.)

Cosmic Dumping and Happy Wheels

Have you ever had one of those days where from the instant you wake up, nothing goes right? Everything is out of control and you are helpless to prevent the next catastrophe from derailing your morning any further. It's as though there is some cosmic force at work, spinning one disaster to the next in some grand, perfectly designed plan to screw you.

Today has been one of those days. I realize it's only 9:30 in the morning and how could that much possibly go wrong, and in the big picture of life, it's not really been all that terrible, I mean if you think about it there are children starving in Africa and a big shitshow of a war in the Middle East, and civil turmoil in places like Sri Lanka, but in my little life here in Los Angeles, it has NOT been a good morning.

I am not going to go into all the details, because that would be TMI for most, but my morning did involve some of the following events: my sweating problem, woolite, a trip to the dry cleaners, the inability to comb through my own hair, my gas light, international cell phone malfunctions, the server crashing. A few other things too... let's just say I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Anyways, fingers crossed that the cosmos has decided I've been toyed with enough today and it will move on to screwing with someone else's life. I also wonder sometimes if Wednesdays are just destined to be crappy days because it's the middle of the week and there's nothing you can do about it. I liked middle school when Wednesdays were early release days. We would go rollerskating at "Happy Wheels" for a few hours, which strangely enough was the perfect way to spend a Wednesday afternoon out of school. (It's a little weird, considering it's the early 90s we are talking about here and not the late 70s Disco era, but whatever).

Happy Wheels was the spot for birthday parties, nachos with that disgustingly delicious chemical cheese doused on top, and couples skates where you could awkwardly ask the boy you liked to hold your sweaty hand while you took a few laps around the rink. There were also some sweet "shoot the duck" contests, and some songs in which only backwards skating was permitted. The song list was incredible, quite possibly the perfect playlist of tacky 70s and 80s jams and all the over-the-top emo/pop/grunge songs of the early to mid 90s. I remember there being a lot of Green Day. I think I can credit those Wednesdays at Happy Wheels as being responsible for introducing me to a lot of bad music, but also for introducing me to Top 40 and pop music (wait that is also bad music. Okay so Happy Wheels is responsible for all the bad music I like. And Billy Joel's "In the Middle of the Night.") I can also blame Happy Wheels for a lot of pre-adolescent identity crises because it was really difficult to watch the boy you're holding hands with on one couples skate to be holding hands with your total BFF (of that month) for the next one. Ah, those were the days.

When it comes down to it, I truly loved Happy Wheels and mostly because I was very skilled at rollerskating. I grew up figure skating and it was a pretty easy transition to the roller rink. In seventh grade I finished the school year with the title "Best Skater." I am not at all kidding.

Wow I am not quite sure how I got from the Cosmos Hates Me to My Glory Days as a Rollerskating Fiend but that was a nice little trip down memory lane. And I just found out it will be another 45 minutes until our server is back up and running. What a morning it is!

Jaw Wired Shut: London Edition

Welcome everyone, to the new version of the blog. The version you will get to enjoy from now until April 17. It's the London version. Why, London, you ask? That is the current location of my boss. Which is awesome. This means that while my mornings might be busy, my afternoons will not--plenty of time to blog away about all the fascinating and profound insights I feel necessary to share. Where to begin...

You know, I wish I was in London. London is a great city. When I was studying abroad in France, the first weekend trip I took was to London. While I may have had food poisoning for all but eight hours of the trip, it was great. I had been to England when I was in the eighth grade, as part of an exchange program, but going when I was older, especially after an intense month in Paris, was a completely different experience. London, despite the price, is a city in which I think I could live. Despite the often dismal weather it's a great place, pretty similar to the US but still perfectly European. I really miss Europe. The people, the food, the trains... simpler times. Times when my only worries were which weekend I was going to Munich for Oktoberfest or should I get a crepe avec nutella et banane or sucre et fraise (that's French for strawberry, you simple-minded Americans). Ah, the days of one weekend skiing in the Alps, the next spending St. Patrick's Day in Dublin. Then there was the wine. The cheapest, most delicious wine EVER. Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am to have spent an entire year abroad (Paris and Geneva). And then I think what an idiot I am for not moving back. Life is great in Europe. Five weeks of vacation. FIVE! Social welfare! Absinthe! Not showering every day isn't just okay--it's normal!

And with this post I've notched out at three existential crises for today. I think my record might be six.

That's all for today's London edition because it's a little after 6 pm and I am leaving. YES.

News Brief

Big news, loyal readers. (Again, I ask that you reveal yourselves!) I now officially own the domain name jawwiredshut. This means you can just type www.jawwiredshut.com into your web browser and it will take you here to my blog. I also need to patent or copyright that name because clearly it will be the title of my book.

Yeah, I'm going to write a book. Who isn't writing a book?

Monday again?

My neck hurts a lot right now. I am thinking it could be from the intense yoga class I took Saturday morning, or because I am coming down with meningitis. I really hope it's from the yoga. Meningitis would suck.

Not sucking was my weekend. Weekends are the most glorious, liberating, incredible 48 hours of my life. If only 3-day weekends were a federal mandate for the summertime... that would make everyone so much happier!

I would also like to take a moment to gloat, as I am currently ranked in first place for my March Madness bracket. If Memphis wins, I win.... bragging rights. Apparently I thought I signed up for the pool in which real money was involved but I didn't. That was a poor decision. Whatever I am still pretty pleased with my choices. Although I've decided to maybe start paying closer attention to UCLA. I live so close to the campus and I love sporting events... why not? Let's be honest... I miss college. On the way to work this morning I was thinking about what I could go back to school for.

I didn't come up with anything, yet, but I am open to suggestions. All I know is on Friday it dawned on me that I hadn't seen daylight in four days. That's depressing.

Just another manic Monday... (yes, I embrace and support the use of obvious post-ending cliches.)

Urkel is in the building

Steve Urkel himself just walked into our office for a meeting. He is now in our conference room. He drinks water.

Apparently Urkel's real name is Jaleel White. But my co-assistant just made an ass of herself when saying "Here's your water, Steve." Brilliant. Now she's bright red. It's incredible. But what does he expect, we grew up with his infamous TV character! I'm hoping for Mr. Cooper and an Olsen twin to come in to make it a TGIF reunion. Oooh or one of the cast members from Boy Meets World. I definitely don't know Cory Matthews real name.

Fake Fighting is the BEST

While having to deal with unnecessary drama over email earlier today, my co-worker and I decided to begin some fake fighting emails. I am sure you are asking if I have better things to do, like actual work, or blog, but I thought I would mix things up a little bit. Turns out, fake fighting is oh so fun. Enjoy. (And I'll keep you all posted on this pointless, made up saga).

Dear Tom,

I didn't want to have to write this email but you've left me no choice. I have never, ever, EVER felt so demeaned and belittled by ANYONE in my life. I don't know what soapbox you've been standing on to make you think you have the right to say such terribly condescending things to me. I used to value your opinion, but clearly, as you have little to no awareness of the impact of your actions on the people in your life I just feel that I can't trust you anymore.

I'd like to ask that you return Fluffy to my house tomorrow evening and from now on keep all conversations between us regarding his therapy sessions to yourself. I would also like to request that you reimburse me for his blue doggie sweater you ripped up the other afternoon in your overdramatic attempt to berate me and my life decisions.

Please respond to this note by email only. I am screening your calls.

Annie



Dearest Annie,

What can I say to you that I haven't said already.

I am going to take your attacks and be the bigger person here. I
understand Fluffs means a lot to you but you have no idea what he has
done to my soul. And that conversation is between me and the lamp
post.

Who can I confide in at this point but inanimate objects when people
can act like animals as you do? Hurt isn't the word. Neither is
angry. I am disappointed in you. I thought you were a great person.
I thought we were great friends. And, you know what, I am all the
better for walking away.

If we are going to talk about actions, let's. Last year at Purim, It
was completely inappropriate to waltz around MY house drunk in your
father's kimono from the Vietnam War screaming and shouting about how
no one will ever understand the pain you are in. My grandmother never
needed to see that. You know my grandfather died in that war serving
as a medic. It is a sore subject for her and for my family and you
had no regard for anyone's feelings. Which is the big problem I have
with you. You don't care about anyone but yourself. You can talk
talk talk about how much of a victim you are, but when it comes down
to it, you are your own worst enemy and I feel sorry for you.

I can't believe we have gotten to this point and nothing will take
that image out of my head. The image of my nana walking out of the
living room, head held high, holding back the tears as she climbed the
stairs to her imminent death. Death by heart break. Yeah. I said
it. I never told you but my Nana died that night because the pain was
too real and the pain was too great.

So think about your actions Annie. Think about how you make others
suffer because you need a little bit of attention and then come back
and you can talk to me like an adult, with real issues and real
problems.

Call me or email me. I don't screen calls because I am always there
for my friends.

Xoxo,

Tom



Tom,

I don't know how to respond. I am baffled by your note, your accusations, and that you would call yourself a "friend" after the way you treated me, and worse--Fluffy.

I don't even know where to start. Actually I do. With the referenced Purim incident. You know I'm not Jewish and feel really uncomfortable when you use your religion to pressure me into doing things I am uncomfortable with. (I think it is sick you forced Fluffy to convert and want to remind you that you owe me money for the Rabbi's doggy Judaism classes). And if we are going to talk about making scenes, let's examine my post-modern dance performance at the Lucille C. Lucille Studio last August. In addition to omitting a smell like the inside of a hockey player's jock strap in your sweaty gym clothes (is it that hard to shower?) you relentlessly screamed obscenities at me, and once loudly referred to my performance as hybrid of Liza Minelli's evil twin doing the polka and a blind, three legged dog humping a fire hydrant. That was hurtful. Clearly you cant grasp post modern art.

That's not the point. The point is that your Nana lied to you. She was a drug user and was addicted to opiates. What you perceived as heart break was her morphine withdrawal. I might be triple board certified in gynecology, psycho pharmacology, and forensic analysis but it doesn't take a brain surgeon to recognize a drug addict.

Let's get down to business. You want to talk about adult issues and adult problems? I think you need to grow up first. Stop lying to everyone. You're not 24 your 37. I've seen your passport. I think you've lied so often you believe these falsehoods to be true. It's sad. I'd be worried for you if I didn't hate you so much.

Annie

P.S. You know he hates it when you call him Fluffs.

Virtual Pissing (Really)

Video games just keep getting better and better, for example:



I don't know what is more disturbing, the cats coming out of the toilets or the underwear device required to play.

Wow. What's next, virtual child birth? Actually, I know some people who might be okay with that...

Why didn't I think of this?

Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama... working together...

Apologies in Advance

If you haven't noticed yet I've been slacking in the blog department this week (hence yesterday's "Some Things I Like Post"... I mean, clearly the creative juices weren't flowing) and this is my official apology to my vast legions of fans. Whoever those average 50 readers a day are, thanks for your commitment, sorry about the irregularity this week.

No worries--as of Tuesday, the bossman is in London, where the 9 hour time difference is going to bring work productivity to a new low, and creative blog posting to record highs. Expect next week to really WOW you. Get excited.

Until then, I try to keep posting regularly, but I can't guarantee anything good.

Smooches,
Annie

Some Things I Like

Mangoes
The Uni-Ball Vision Elite pen, in fine black ink.
Earl Grey Tea
My bed
Aquaphor
Honey sticks
Headbands
Boat shoes
Comic book movies
My middle name
Maine
Mario Kart Double Dash
Debussy
Pizza
Writing
Magazine stands in airports
Free wireless
Sticky notes
Making lists
Tempurpedic pillows
Olives
J. Crew
Yoga
Aquariums
Puppies
Trees
Mixing gold and silver jewelry
Entertainment Weekly
Short fingernails
Astronaut Ice Cream
Hand written notes
Science Museums
Documentaries
Hearing people laugh from another room
Scotch tape
Photographs
Downloading music
The smell of cut grass

New Discovery: PB & J Snack Packs!

I just ducked out of the office for a rare lunchtime journey to the Trader Joes on Santa Monica Blvd. and La Cienga. Not only did I take care of my grocery shopping for the week, but I happened upon what I can only describe as the most precious snack pack EVER. A few weeks ago a friend of mine mentioned something about snack packs at Whole Foods but I never really it gave it much thought. Well lo and behold, there on the top shelf of the prepared foods section was the PB & J snack pack, including the following items, fitting just so in a nicely packaged baggie: one mini water bottle, a string cheese, some apple slices, a packet of chocolate graham cookies, and a delicious half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Mmmm. I was nervous it wouldn't fill me up but I was pleasantly surprised--it did! (Are you pleasantly surprised to hear about my satiating lunch?) Anyways, for just $3.99 I enjoyed this meal and am feeling quite pleased with myself.

Trader Joes you are the best! Even though your parking lot is almost always a level of hell, I never seem to spend more than $50 yet always leave with a myriad of goodies I didn't even intend on purchasing. Such a delight!