From the Bean to La La Land

I have a special place in my heart for Manny Ramirez.

First of all, he’s a cool dude. I don’t think anyone can argue with that. Then there is his hair—dude is rocking some sweet dreds, and it’s always nice to see the different variations Manny tries when wearing his hat/helmet.
Finally, my senior year of college my oh-so-clever friends decided to nickname me Mannie after an especially bad bout with mono. One of them started calling me Mannie Ramirez. It soon combined with my other nickname and I was being called Manny Stamos (on a side note, I feel like I’ve written about this before which makes me sad that I A. am repeating blog posts and B. lack the capacity to actually remember things) so I obviously feel a special connection to #24.

But he’s #24 no more. Away Manny goes, but closer to me? Yep, he’s been traded to the LA Dodgers, soon to play under former Yankees coach Joe Torre. Even though it’s exciting I might be able to catch him in some Dodgers games, my love for the Red Sox runs too deep for me to not wish he’d stay in the Bean. And so it goes—the heart-wrenching world of professional sports leagues trades and drafts (of which I actually know very little about). Manny will be missed.

I do intend to continue spending my nights sleeping in my XXL Manny Ramirez Red Sox jersey. And I will wear it to the first Dodgers game I go to.

I bet Xenu isn't too happy

Well this is certainly interesting.

A lawsuit about racketeering charges? I'm sorry, a $250 million lawsuit? Against, what now? Scientology? Oooooooooh. You know one of these days I am going to just have to find a defected "church" member and get all the deets firsthand. And then I will find a new pseduo-religion to follow for a while.

Again, Why I Should be Working at Entertainment Weekly

Because then I would get to write articles like this. (And have a proofreader and get paid for it. Some day...)

Organizing My Life

And the great car saga has ended! I guess the earthquake inspired me to really take charge because I went to bed last night the proud new owner of a 2009 Toyota Matrix. I wasn’t even considering this car but saw it in the process to find the right Prius... the hook, line and sinker for me was that it’s marketed almost exclusively to guys. I’m not really sure why, but I guess that made it a lot more appealing. Maybe it’s because I like to live out of my car... seriously, when I had to get everything out of my totaled CRV I had a tent, ski poles, a field hockey stick, several towels, a beach chair, a tennis racket, sleeping bag, endless amounts of CDs, water bottles, maps, a Red Sox hat, and the book Lyrics by Sting (don’t ask). Also, a car that is for dudes just seems to have a lot of features I like.

Anyway, all has been resolved except for the massive piles of paperwork that I am struggling to finish.

So besides unexpected earthquakes, it looks as though things are getting back on track and maybe I’ll start posting fewer “Dear Diary, OMG I want a new car LIKE now” type posts and a few more “I think it’s disgusting that People magazine got the Brangelina twin baby pics for a reported $15 million (vomit)” posts. It’s been a while since I’ve had any exciting random celebrity sightings to report. That was one nice thing about the old job—I am no longer on the route that takes me to the Starbucks preferred by Harrison Ford and others. Oh and I am no longer working out with Fabio either. He doesn’t go as far west as the Santa Monica Equinox, apparently.

Oh and I had my first awkward return to work where I was excessively sweating thanks to my lunchtime walk experience. It was an uncomfortable elevator ride.

Now I am Paranoid

According to this article at CNN, there is a 99 percent chance that an earthquake of 6.7 or larger will happen in California in the next 30 years. Because I wasn't already feeling fearful, what with this morning's seismic shifts and that woman getting stabbed near my office building (okay so that's not a natural disaster but that's just adding onto the mess). I mean the next 30 years! 99% chance! That is a guarantee. I mean... that could be tomorrow. Or next month. Or if I am lucky, five years from now when I am back on the East Coast and I can thank the powers that be that I'm out of California, aka Disaster Zone Central.

Also, there is some chance that this morning's quake could be a precusor to another one. Okay so it's only a 5% chance, but STILL. I am totally freaked out by this whole thing. And I feel like Lucille 2 in Arrested Development--I'm suffering some serious vertigo. Honestly! It's like that feeling after you've been sailing and you get on to dry land but you still feel like you're in the boat. I still feel like I am in the boat. I want to get off the boat.

Or a sedative. I'm sure that would work too.

I Want One

Speaking of new cars...

If something happened to my computer I am going to lose it

The one thing I value more than my own life? That might be my computer, which sits under a heavy, poorly hung (that's what she said), very large bulletin board/picture frame piece. I am praying to God my beloved comp will be okay when I get home.

Earthquakes are not cool.

I'm Moving Back to Maine

I just experienced my first earthquake. Contrarily to how I might have expected, I did not remain cool. Well, I did remain cool enough to crack a joke in the confused shock afterward, but I am NOT OKAY right now.

Here’s how it went down:

I’m sitting at my desk writing a blog entry (seriously, how’s that for ironic? I am thinking death is imminent while I am putting the finishing touches on a post about some inconsequential thing I’ve learned in Hollywood) when all of a sudden the floor starts quivering. The shaking becomes gradually more intense, the building is clearly moving and I start to look around at the people around me and suddenly all capability for logical thought escapes me as I dumbly ask, “Is this an earthquake?”
Someone else yells out, “get under your desk!” and like an incapacitated, blind lemming, I do.

I am freaked out beyond belief at this point, thinking to myself, “This is it. This is the big one—that one crazy massive earthquake they are predicting is going to bury Los Angeles, and this shaking is only the beginning and holy shit I am on the top floor of a giant building with a hole in the middle and this is so not how I envisioned my death.”

And just as suddenly as it came on, the heavy shaking subsided. Dead silence in my wing of the building and as everyone is looking around at each other in shock, I yelled out, “I’m moving back to Maine.” An eruption of laughter followed, but while I sat in my chair looking around, a move back East didn’t seem like such a bad idea. I am not well suited for natural disasters of this capacity. Sure I survived Ice Storm ’98 back in Falmouth Foreside but tectonic plate movement is a lot different than some severe winter weather.

According to CNN it was a 5.8, which if I remember correctly, is pretty large. Everything in the building seems okay, and per the annoying security announcement we are now secure. I however, am convinced the building is still moving, but have been told repeatedly it’s not. Apparently, I am losing it.

Uh I am off to take a moment to thank my lucky stars, then put together a handy earthquake survival kit.

Or buy a one way ticket to Maine.

Extreme Sunday Funday, This Week's Theme: AMERICA (and Fried Food)

Yesterday I discovered fried Oreos.

Yes, you heard that correctly.

Fried. Oreos.

I know this might seem overwhelming, or a snacktime impossibility only dreamed of by stoned college students or 6 year-olds, but it’s true. I discovered fried Oreos and I ate one. Well, half of one. (They are seriously intense). But where, oh where, did this life-changing experience take place? Why, at the Orange County Fair of course!

I grew up going to fairs in Maine. I know that sounds a little odd—and it’s not like I grew up with carnies or anything like that, but in Maine, especially in the rural parts of the state, there are fairs. My favorites include the Fryeburg Fair, the Common Ground Fair, the Yarmouth Clam Festival, and my personal love—the Cumberland County Fair. So when I hear fair, I think livestock competitions, giant pumpkins, potato sack slides, fried dough (funnel cake did not exist at Maine fairs when I was growing up), and either a lot of hippies who live on farm & garden communes or Neo Con red necks.

I had low expectations for the OC Fair, thinking nothing could quite match up to the fairs of my youth, but was pleasantly surprised—and it all comes down to the Fried Oreos, the world’s largest steer, and a death defying ride on a chairlift.

I was bitching and moaning about the $9 entry fee (remember, I am very, very cheap) but was promised by my friend Annie (and future roomie... replacing former #2—which is a whole other story) that it was more than worth the price so I lined up with the rest of my friends, handed over my money and stepped into what I can only describe as 150 acres of gluttony, over stimulation, and AMERICA.

Oh and fried. That was a big theme—everything was fried. Anything you want could be fried. Hence, the Oreos. Also available to be fried were Twinkies, frog legs, chicken, artichoke, zucchini, and SPAM. Yes, SPAM. I didn't know SPAM could be any more unhealthy than it already is. (I will admit I spent a summer on a very intense month-long sea kayak trip where I ate a lot of SPAM for breakfast. At the time, I thought it was delicious. At the time I also thought Kevin from the Backstreet Boys was God's gift to man, so that's not saying much). If fried SPAM isn't a heart attack in one sitting, I don’t know what is. But the OC Fair wasn’t just about fried food. Oh no, those delectable battered Oreos were just the topping on a smorgasbord of treats. There were stands with Greek food, Mexican themed booths, cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, whole turkey legs, bratwurst, and falafel. It was a legitimate World’s Fair of food. Check out some of the options in this photo:



There was also the Convention Hall of Products (or Conventional Hall of Crap, as Ditonto noted) filled with different booths offering a lot of junk you never knew existed or would ever want, ranging from bizarre office supply type knick knacks to zipper covers (or something) and one of my favorite stands, which was essentially ever kind of seed or nut coated in butter toffee and sold in packets that ran for about $5 each (the sunflower seeds were awesome).

Okay so clearly there was a lot of food. The livestock was less impressive. There was, however, the largest steer in the world. I mean this was a giant animal. Per the signs on the barn housing the sad, probably sedated beast, this steer had 1,000 hamburgers in the hoof. So that’s nice and disturbing. There was also the world’s biggest horse, aptly named Hercules, but as I had only reserved $1 (yes, that was one dollar, again, I am very cheap) for large animal viewing I opted for steer over horse.

As to be expected at a fair with an impressive food roster and such a freakishly large steer, there was an also an abundance of rides. It was pretty much the standard ride options—the Ferris wheel, small roller coasters, slides, trapeze—but maybe three of each, and then a less dangerous version for the kids. There was, however, one ride I had never before seen at a fair before—a chair lift!

What a novel idea! Taking a chair lift from one end of a fair to another? Why, what could be more fun?

Turns out, just about anything could be more fun. Riding a chairlift over a lot of people below enjoying turkey legs and paying exorbitant amounts of money to walk through “The Moscow Circus” is terrifying. First of all, I was convinced the entire ride, which was the longest ten minutes of my life, that I would lose one of my beloved flip flops. I also realized how unsafe a chair lift was, or at least this one was, especially when traveling at that excruciatingly slow pace and when there isn’t a mountain of snow to travel over. Also, for some reason it’s just a lot better when you are wearing skis and a lot of padded clothing like snow pants and a puffy jacket.

Even though I spent most of the chair lift ride gripping the “safety” bar (hardly safe) for dear life, it was a pretty great way to see the lay of the land. How else would I have known there was a giant wrestling tournament going on? Or where I could go for a ride on the giant circus elephant? Or more important, the closest food stand with the fried Oreos!

I survived the chair lift unscathed and have a new appreciation for the ease with which I ride those things whenever I go skiing.

Also worth mentioning is the Rock Band tent. Rock Band is one of the greatest videogames out there right now, if only for the fact that you truly can grasp Sting’s musical prowess when attempting to master songs like “Roxanne” or “Synchronicity II.” While some of us were enjoying the fine act of masticating a turkey leg the size of my shin, Ashleigh and I wandered over to watch some brave souls exhibit their Rock Band talents for anyone in the general listening vicinity. Then there was Buddy. Buddy got up with a few friends (and I think Buddy was maybe around 10 years old, a nice chubby kid who clearly was having the time of his life at the fair) and took on “Roxanne.” Buddy was horrendously tone deaf but eager to work the crowd and after not too long had assembled a good throng of people bumping their heads while he screeched to not put on the red light. The dude running the Rock Band tent got Buddy to get back up for a rendition of Bon Jovi’s “Dead or Alive,” which he also hilariously butchered. He really went the extra step though, that kid. He started yelling that whoever sang loud would get a free t-shirt, prompting the Rock Band guys to follow his lead and start chucking promotional shirts into the crowd. (Obviously, I won a shirt, as I have a serious ability to scream loudly—although some middle-aged Mom attempted to steal my shirt out from under my eyes. People these days).

And I have to say the night really peaked when I discovered Orange Julius (yes, back to the food options, in case you hadn't heard enough. I love Orange Julius, Strawberry even more so, and haven't been able to get my hands on one of those since the Maine Mall food court circa 1993. It was a nostalgic moment. And then we got funnel cake. And then, to finish off the evening right, the six of us shared a massive funnel cake. Soon thereafter, as was to be expected. I wanted to vomit.

Photos are forthcoming (meaning, when I get home from work and can provide the visual accompaniment to this recap). Trust me, you want to see what that 11-foot long giant steer looks like. Oh and I have video of Buddy. He’s the next YouTube sensation.






As promised:

P.O.S.

If you were wondering who was that dashing young lady driving the beat up Mitshibushi Galant, headed East on Olympic Blvd this morning, why, that was me!

No, I didn't get a new car this weekend. I did log some hours with two very dutiful friends at Toyota, Honda, and Volkswagon. Of the three, the salespeople at Honda made me want to kill myself, while Luis at Toyota and Eddie at VW proved to be great guys we just wanted to hang out with. Luis even brought out some cool books of his hometown in Brazil. And then he told me it was a possible two month wait for the Prius. Nice try Luis.

So anyway, I find myself in a hardly changed position on the new-car front. Pretty sure I am not going to be getting the Honda Civic Hybrid anytime soon (thanks to Maggie, aka the degenerative sales lady at Honda who attempted to tell us that the government was lying. And then I was forced to deal with her terrible manager Andy who had a flavor savor and was the kind of guy where if you looked up "douchebag" in the dictionary you might find his smart ass photo). So now it's a toss up between more expensive, longer wait, but kick ass fuel usage/environmentally conciousness (Prius), or slightly cheaper, very European (fun switching over to drive it manually) available RIGHT NOW (Jetta).

But back to the Mitsubishi Galant currently in my possession. What a POS that thing is. I got it from the lovely Rent-a-Wreck and have it for a week (unless it dies on me) for a very budget price. Alright!

What's the deal with...

...consistently weird/ugly/childish/drug-induced mascots for the Olympics? For example, the latest batch for Beijing this summer:



Is that Pokemon? The logo for that crappy sushi restaurant I ate at last week? A hallucination from my trip to Bonnaroo last summer come back to haunt me? I mean, really, couldn't we do something better? I don't know... something athletic, mayhaps?

By far I think the '94 Winter Games in Lillehammer Norway boasted the coolest artwork. Then again, it was my dad's advertising agency who spearheaded the whole campaign so you could say I am a little biased.

Um

There are no words to describe this. None. Nothing at all.

Aliens, ABBA, and Annie

I just overheard the following conversation in the elevator:

"Hey when are you going to Comic Con?"
"Oh I think I am going to go just for Saturday, what about you?"
"Tomorrow I think."

And then they were off. What about me? When am I going to Comic Con? Funny you should ask... I'm not going. Nope. Instead I will be spending my Saturday cancelling my Verizon Wireless account, dealing with cars salesman (likely being told I have to wait three months or something for a Prius), and moving in my new roommate to our apartment. This will all be redeemed on Sunday when we are heading to the U.S. Open for surfing at Huntington Beach, and then the OC County Fair. But no, no geeks or fanboys for me.

HOWEVER... Tonight, if the universe decides to stop shitting on me, I will be attending the press screening of The X-Files. Not quite the same as the premiere or the crazy fan gatherings at the midnight showings at the Arclight, but still pretty fantastic. Keeping my fingers crossed I can make it.

It's been a little walk down memory lane talking to people this week about my former obsession with that show. Sure it seems like I am into it now (lets take a gander at the many posts I write about it) but honestly nothing compares to my high school love. It's entertaining whenever I talk to a friend from high school who sort of laughs at me, remembering how when I was captain of the field hockey team my senior year I decided all our plays would be named after X-Files characters, or when I wrote my final English paper on "Jungian Psychology and The X-Files." That, my friends, was obsession. It's a little nostalgic getting to revisit the show now, and laugh, scoff, fondly remember that time in my life.

Actually, seeing Mamma Mia! last night was, as I mentioned earlier, a nice reminder of my former love for ABBA. Honestly, that movie was hilarious and I think it's been getting panned by critics, but it is one of the most frivolous, feel good flicks I've seen in a long time. I recommend!

My B

I just realized I posted the trailer for The Hills twice. Oops. Why did this terrible mistake take place? Well it would seem my friend who works at E! didn't realize I had already posted the exact same footage on my blog, and I being a blind rabbit didn't realize I had either--thus the double posting of the video. (Unless I am wrong and the E! vid goes in places no man has gone before, in which case I clearly need to do a better job of reading and watching everything I post, although I just outted myself and my poor proofreading skills--which, btw, you should already be aware of. OBV.)

Anyways. Sorry to make you endure that crapfest twice. I certainly don't love/hate it enough for that.

I am going to see Mamma Mia! this evening. I would like to apologize in advance to all those who will be in the theater with me, for they will have to endure me singing along to all of the songs. Yes, all. I went through a serious ABBA phase in high school. Sadly, I remember once slowly listening to "Money Money Money" and writing out the lyrics so I could memorize them because I was pretty sure that song was the coolest thing since slice bread. I've since discovered other things cooler than sliced bag and perfectly melodized ABBA songs, but everynow and then I can't help but sing "It's a rich man's world..." And so forth.

Hills Sneak Preview

Because I have connections/like to give friends free publicity... and by publicity I mean over saturate the average fifty readers I get daily. WOOO. OMG LAUREN CONRAD IS THE COOLEST. Seriously, though, who's excited? I both dread and cannot wait for the new season to start. Here's another taste:

Hump Day

I would rate Wednesday as the #2 worst day of the week after Monday. No matter what time I go to bed or what the preceeding days have been like, waking up Wednesday morning is almost always near to impossible.

I am a big user and abuser of the snooze button. I probably snooze every morning for a minimum of a half hour. I always go to bed with the intention that I'll get right up to my alarm in the morning, but that rarely happens. Wednesday mornings there isn't a shot in the dark of that happening. In fact this morning I snoozed for an hour, with not one but three alarms. Highly disruptive and unnecessary? But of course. By the time I finally did wake up I decided to spend some morning time on the interwebs, and about fifteen minutes into that any chance of a shower was long gone. So here I am, just about a week into the new job and am making my first non-showered appearance. This would probably be okay if not for my hair. I wouldn't say I am someone with especially greasy hair, so fortunately I don't have to battle that issue (at least until around day 2 of no showering, then it's definitely problematic--but I try not to let it get that far). The biggest issue is that I seem to run marathons in my sleep and without fail wake up each morning with a certifiable rat's nest. Esepcially if I wear my hair curly the day before, which really means I just don't brush it.

For example, this morning: I wore my hair curly yesterday, which means I had not run a comb through it since Monday morning around 7 am. Therefore when I woke up this morning, due to untamed nappy curls and all the head banging I seem to do while sleeping, the 'do is a little on the south side of pretty. In fact, I'm rocking a borderline comb-over. The Donald's got nothin' on me.

Wait a minute, I can't believe you just read about my current hairstyle for what, a few minutes? I do apologize. But see it's Hump Day and I am pretty sure I am only half awake at the moment and an exploratory post on my morning hair styles seems to be all I can offer at the moment.

Oh and I just watched the new trailer for The Hills so that's dumbed me down a little bit I imagine. That show is so vapid it's contagious. I love it. You know you do to.

• MTV
• Music Videos
• MTV Shows
• Entertainment News

Some Wednesday Nostalgia

Back to one of my faves, Sesame Street. This clip is a lot more entertaining if you are between the ages of 3 and 8 I imagine, but it's just as sweet at any age.

This Post is a Cop Out

I wouldn't go this far to see the Dark Knight.

Nathan Fillion hamming it up with NPH? It couldn't get better than this (well, it could--when it was availble for free on the website).

I feel a little uncomfortable on Christian Bale's behalf.

Comic Con. Or, that thing I am missing this weekend that I really wanted to go to but not as a weird fan and only if I could make it a "business" endeavor.

Really Matthew McConaughey? Was this a stretch from your usual?

Things That Make Me Want to Vomit, The Sequel

This.

Uhhhhh

I was just going to ask, "does anyone else have that problem that when they are chewing gum it sometimes get stuck to their permanent retainers?" But then I realized that most people don't have permanent retainers on the inside of both their upper and lower teeth, and it really wouldn't help me much in the making friends department.

Moving on.

The Dark Knight, Or, That Time A Movie Caused Me Personal Injury

I was one of the many who contributed to The Dark Knight's box office blowout this past weekend (while we're on it, can I take a moment to point out how hilariously dramatic Nikke Finke is? That lady is SERIOUS about her numbers crunching and about out-scooping all scoop. She needs a day off or something) and I agree with the masses-it was an outstanding moviegoing experience, a fantastic film, and Heath Ledger is sure to get an Oscar nomination, at the least (and has anyone else seen the hilarious photo of Batman v. Joker on the cover of today's Hollywood Reporter? It's an odd screen shot, as though Heath is swimming/dangling by rope and maybe they're about to make out... never mind, it's just weird).

Anyhoo, there was one of those moments in the film, you know--the kind where the director is quite effective in freaking you out, making you JUMP in your seat--when I did just that, I jumped in my seat and gasped (I am a very invovled film viewer, clearly) and once I'd calmed down a little bit, I couldn't quite figure it out but my chest, as in my bruised sternum, was suddenly a sharp shooting pain. It seemed as though my exact sitting position while engrossingly following The Dark Knight was eerily similar to the position I was in during my recent car accident, and thus I was in severe pain, as though I had reinjured myself. Talk about interactive viewing!

Okay, so I didn't actually hurt myself, but I definitely did something that didn't help the soreness factor of said chest contusion.

Conclusion: The Dark Knight kicks (your) ass.

Because no one likes Monday...

Here's a nice uplifting video to begin your work week, complete with animals, 70s hairstyles, and a real cheesy reunion.

Approaching Goal Deadline, Time to Call in a Favor

Okay people. That goal of mine to go to The X-Files premiere, well that date is FAST approaching and things aren't looking up. First of all, word on the street is that invites to the premiere are non transferrable which means I either need to be very good at disguises or someone needs to invite me as their guest. Which means I need help.

OR

I can just go with all the hilarious crazy fans who are going to dress up and see it, not quite the same but still an experience and I can get my tickets for a showing at the Arclight in Hollywood, right? WRONG. I just checked and ALL TIMES ARE SOLD OUT! Whatever is a crazed X-Files fan today? Who well help me in my quest? I'm like Mulder and Scully but instead of the truth, I'm looking for a movie seat. Eh, what will probably happen is I'll just go to the standard AMC down the road with the normal plebians. So be it.

However, if anyone has any ideas how to make my hilarious X-Files goals come anywhere close to true... let me know. I am imagine the truth is out there. (Aren't I hilaaaarious).

New Destination Obsession

India. Specifically Bombay/Mumbai.

Why? Here are some reasons in no particuluar order:

Yoga
Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts
Old Merchant Ivory films
Gandhi
Bollywood
Naan
Slums
The Darjeeling Limited
books by Rohinton Mistry
The dude who answers the phone when I am calling to complain about a computer problem or something. Yeah, that guy.

Family Guy Friday

Oh Stewie.

Whaaaaa?

Hmm so today I can access the blog at work... ANYWAY, I AM OKAY! Terrifying 3 car pile ups aside, and three hours of sleep (one of them in a hospital bed), I am doing GREAT here, running on adrenaline and enjoying day two of work.

So let's get into some normal JWS (that's Jaw Wired Shut, obv) features, such as the following paragraph in which I am going to rant and rave a bit about Battlestar Galactica being snubbed from the Emmy's.

Okay Emmy voters, seriously this is such a great show with SUPERB acting and yet no love! Not even a nomination! AND HOLD THE PHONE, where was Friday Night Lights? That's simply outrageous! These are two stellar shows that are repeatedly shut out in all categories (except for maybe sound editing and/or effects for BSG, but puuuhleeeze no one cares about those things) and it just boggles my mind that (a) not that many people watch them and (b) while critically acclaimed they never seem to garner the awards they should. For shame!

A full list of Emmy nominees is here.

Live Blog (from the hospital?)

Well... I am not sure where to begin... Let's start with the happy moments of my day and we'll get to the reason I am blogging from the Santa Monica hospital from my iPhone in just a minute.

The first day of work was a breeze. I only spilled on myself once and I even had friends to eat lunch with. Unfortunately I can't even access the blog at work so things might be slow around here for a little while. After work (which I got to leave early) I joined current roomie Ashleigh to have dinner with our soon to be roomie (another Annie) and her mom at West Hollywood staple The Ivy. It was divine. On my drive home I was thinking about how much I was dreading getting up early to workout when BAM the car in front of me slams on his breaks, I slam on mine and would have been clear if in that instant I hadn't been rear ended by the car behind me, causing me to rear end the dude in front.

Thank God I was wearing a seat belt. Everyone was okay for the most part, although I was pretty shook up and the seat belt, while life saving, did a number on my sternum, which is why I am currently waiting for a cat scan.

All in all a great evening, huh? (Please note sarcasm). Fortunately Ashleigh provided some comic relief when she picked me up at the scene of the accident, doling out Tylenol like candy and humoring the guy I hit when he asked if she was Persian. Even better was the crazy homeless lady making a scene at the ER.

So after determining all other patients are old people on the brink of death I sent Ashleigh home with the agreement that if I am still here after 5 am she'll come pick me up. Let's hope not. What a night.

Great first day at work, no?

Bring Yourself to Work Day

Loyal Readers.

Today is the day. The day I start my new job, a job in which I will actually be doing work and will likely have less time to blog. I am saddened by this thought, but also encouraged by the knowledge that I will do everything I can to not let this get in the way of my noble and constant blog reports. But just don't send me hate mail if I haven't updated in 24 hours or something.

Am I nervous for my new gig? HAH NERVES ARE FOR WIMPS.

Yes, quite nervous. Most of my anxiety was about my first day of work outfit, but now that that's been settled I can focus on less important issues. Like orientation.

I have never had formal job orientation so I am not really sure what to expect. I am sort of envisioning I will be forced to sign mountains of legal documents I won't bother to read while watching videos in which celebrities will reenact sexual harassment scenarios. Perhaps there will be a lecture on privacy and secrets, and maybe someone will utter the phrase, "While carrying a gun is legal if registered, it is highly frowned upon." Most likely it will be about using a phone and a computer--very important new skills.

Ooooohhh I am also nervous for the lunch break. Oh my god I am totally going to be that awkward kid who's eating by herself on the first day and overcompensates for her nerves with way too many obvious jokes, pity laughs, and friendly nods.

Whatever, nerves aside I am ready to KICK SOME ASS. I don't know how much ass kicking is allowed for in orientation but I am going to OWN IT.

Wish me luck... and keep your fingers crossed that I will be able to blog about a multitude of uncomfortable scenarios by lunchtime.

Spraken zie Chihuahua?

If you've seen WALL-E then you, like me, had to suffer through a preview for what might appear to be the worst movie ever made, Beverly Hills Chihuahua. I would rather make out with Dick Cheney than suffer through this piece of crap. That is, until this morning, when the resourceful Ditonto stumbled upon a new trailer... In German. This, folks, is a gem. Suddenly the annoying dogs seem more like a long-hidden and just revealed Nazi experiment.

Dah. Is good. (Not German but say it like Ahhhnuld and anything sounds German).

Just Like Harold and Kumar (But Without Neil Patrick Harris and the Talking Weed Plant)

Ashleigh and I had an epic adventure for pool toys yesterday. Epic. We're talking Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle levels. And clearly, she'd be Kumar, what with her "you're Persian, right?" Italian complexion, so I guess that makes me Harold, although I probably couldn't be farther from a skinny Asian man beyond my interests in technology and science-fiction (Wait, was that racist? Furthermore, was it even accurate racism? Do Asian men like science-fiction?).

After having an intense conversation about how AWESOME college was and how much we missed it and MAN THOSE WERE PIVOTAL YEARS OF OUR LIVES we realized it was around noon and we were wasting precious time on a Sunday, one of the most precious days of the week! I wanted to get a massage and she wanted to go get a mani/pedi and we both probably had a bunch of other not-necessary tasks to carry out. But as we thought about what time it was we both knew there was really only one thing to do: sunbathe.

Time was in fact, sooo precious that we couldn't head to Malibu, or even the beach a mere two blocks and 150 steps away at the end of the room. Prime tanning hours were dwindling, so our questionably clean pool would be the tanning spot du jour.

Just as we both set up side by side on our respective lounge chairs, I uttered the following sentence, and think perhaps a more genius thought has never passed through my lips.

"Dude. We need floats."

And with just four words we knew we could never go back. We knew our outlook on life had shifted and that a pool float was essential to our existence from that point forward. Off we went, hopping into DiTonto's little red VW Bug, contemplating the closest pharmacy that was also most likely to carry the object of our desire.

First stop, Patton's Pharmacy just five blocks east on Montana. A drug store that was small, but just eccentric enough to maybe offer pool toys. But no, there were no floats to be found.

Next up, CVS on Lincoln Blvd, what seemed like a guarantee. Again, no dice. But there was no turning back. We were in it to win it. And nothing would get in the way of our quest for a pool float and an optimal tanning condition. Even if that mean less hours spent tanning while locating said float.

Next stop, the big Rite Aid at Wilshire and 19th where Ditonto proceeded to drive the wrong way through not one but two parking lots. It was a large pharmacy. They had everything you might spontaneously desire, but again, NO FLOATS. We were in a level of hell! No, it was PURGATORY!

As we agreed that we wouldn't venture east of Barrington and maybe we should try a sporting goods store we came upon Walgreens.

"Here, here!" I cried, holding out on the hope that my memories of pool toys at the Walgreens in Naples, Florida might shed a chance at finding them here in LA.

We rush into the store, breeze through aisles and VICTORY! So many floats! Inflatable, luxury, some with cup holders, some made of mesh and easy to use and store. I started to ask Ashleigh if maybe we should buy the mesh floats (also cheaper) but was distracted by the object in her hand: the 61" Royal Deluxe Pool Mattress. CHECK PLEASE.

Triumphant, we returned to our apartment, not even bothering to go upstairs--just straight to the pool. But then another obstacle! HOW DO WE BLOW THEM UP? THEY ARE TOO LARGE FOR JUST MY BREATH! WHY DID WE NOT BUY THE MESH FLOATS! THEY WERE EASY TO USE AND TO STORE! AND CHEAPER! WE ARE SO STUPID IT'S PHENOMENAL!

We tried using Ashleigh's volleyball pump and briefly contemplated driving to the nearest gas station, but ultimately, due to our joint laziness and thought process that at this point tanning was the most important thing, we decided to blow them up ourselves. This was not enjoyable. Also, I learned that Ashleigh's lung capacity is far superior to mine, so much so that after about twenty minutes had passed since she finished hers she took over mine too.

And then, finally, after the journey, the anticipation, the science(?), the two of us settled into our floats and comfortably spent the rest of the afternoon in the pool. It was heaven. Just like Harold and Kumar, we succeeded. And Ashleigh succeeded in looking more like Kumar while I succeeded in looking less like Harold. Perfection.

Selling Out to the 310

I should be really happy right now. Ecstatic, even. I am not. I am not happy because my impulsiveness, desire for pretty, shiny, new objects, and inability to let go of nostalgia/accept change, is preventing the total elation I should currently be experiencing.

Here's what's going on:

Around 9:30ish this morning I was walking back from the gym and passed the Apple store. I noticed the line was down significantly, and if I jumped in then I might only have to wait behind 25 people or so. I thought, sure, why not--rumor has it they are conquering about 100 phone owners and hour so it looked totally doable. Two hours later I had about 4 new friends, some enemies (you Sir with the balding head of hair and the wire-framed glasses who deemed it necessary to speak loudly on your phone for an hour about how you should just go find the iPhone re-supply truck in the back), and was standing just at the cusp of entry into the store. It was not what I planned on doing this morning, but about 45 minutes in--I realized there was no turning back. And at long last my patience was rewarded when a little man in a blue shirt came to the door and I was allowed inside.

I should preface this by saying the entire wait I had a feeling something wasn't going to work out. I joked to the nice mom next to me (because I guess her 11 year old son REALLY needed the new iPhone) that I was probably going to get up there and they'd be like, "uhhhh sorry, not gonna happen for you." I just had a sense.

Anyway, my dude's taking me through all the initiation steps, etc etc, and the time comes to transfer my number from my existing Verizon account. My beautiful Maine number, with the 207 area code dating back to high school--a final lingering and essential component to my self-identity.

"Hmm. Not working," Blue-shirted iPhone dude says. I knew it. I knew it would happen!

"The number won't transfer? I can't keep my number?"

"Nope." Blue-shirted iPhone dude doesn't seem to care much. In fact, he seems pretty apathetic about the whole iPhone enterprise, and I begin to doubt his enthusiasm or the likelihood he would be on "my side" in this matter.

His explanation for the impossible transfer? Miserable:

"No. It won't work. AT&T just wont. Not in this coverage area." A well-spoken man. Probably jealous of those pretentious assholes at the "Genius bar". Wait is he laughing at me? Am I making that scary freaked out panic mode face I do whenever in distress?

"So there is nothing I can do? Unless I go to Maine right now and buy my iPhone there, I can't keep this number? I just can't?" (The 12 year old inside of me is dying.)

"No." He wouldn't last a day at the Genius Bar, asshole.

"Okay, great, what's my new number?" I want to cry. Remember those business cards I made for myself? Thanks to Steve Jobs they are now useless.

Bitter blue-shirted man gives me my new digits, watches me sign over my first born child to AT&T and there I am, holding a highly coveted object, but feeling somewhat let down.

I leave, new phone in hand, new number impossible to memorize, but within ten minutes I am sending emails while I sit poolside. It's pretty sweet.

And that Maine number? I'm still holding onto it. I think there is a way to essentially end service but keep the phone number (I am pretty sure I did something like that when I studied abroad) or I am just going to try to figure out how I can go to AT&T when I am in Maine in May and somehow merge the number... or something.

Whatever, I'll get over it. Maybe I am really happy right now? Yeah, this iPhone is awesome. Damn you Jobs, Damn you.

On a side note, some dude paid what I can only describe as a Mexican worker to stand in line for him. Really! Santa Monica is VERY white and there's a Mexican man in work clothes standing five people in front of me the whole time I am waiting, and he doesn't really fit the iPhone demographic (not trying to be a close minded asshole, I just can't think of a better way to explain). He gets to be around number two in line, and BAM some Cali white dude shows up and shoos him away. Was he evil? Genius? An evil genius? It was uncomfortable But I think about half of the people around me wished they'd done the same.

ANYWAY: My Father's Plight Against Poor Grammar

I just received this email from my dad:

Annie,

I caught up on your recent blog posts over lunch today. I don't know if I can read it anymore. Your continued use of "anyways" is killing me. I seem to recall that you did well in English during your years of formal schooling. I even recall a time when you wore a scarf at high school graduation signifying your membership in a select group at the top of your class. I don't recall that four years at an elite liberal arts college gave you license to bastardize the English language so I'm not quite sure where this comes from.

I decided to see if I could find anything on the Internet that would justify the disposal of sixteen years of topnotch and often costly education and came up with the following:

"Anyways is incorrect and is slangy, anyway is correct."

"'Anyways' is one of those words you would want to avoid saying in a job interview."

"Any way vs. Anyway vs. Anyways
Any way = 'any method' adjective
Anyway = 'in any case' adverb
Anyways = don’t use"

"'Anyways' is very informal and normally only heard in informal conversation. It is also not used by all native speakers. The standard word 'anyway' is fine in any kind of English (i.e. both formal and informal, both written and spoken)."

From the book, "When Bad Grammar Happens to Good People.": "'Anyway' never, ever has an "s" at the end." You see, you're not a bad person, just a person behaving badly.

This one is my favorite:

"This is going to be short and simple. Do not say or write 'anyways'--not ever. The word is 'anyway.' The form 'anyways' is found in some dialects in the United States, but it is not standard English, and it should never be used in any situation where you want to be considered reasonably well educated. That's all there is to it. "

I could have continued looking but after checking six sources, I think it's safe to say that there's nobody out there sanctioning the use of "anyways". But continue using the form if you like. Neither I nor, most likely, your educated friends (you still have a few?) will continue to read your blog but I'm sure you'll capture a certain number of the wackos who worship people like Celine Dion and John Stamos. Anyway, you can always bring us up to date with your latest epiphanies when we talk on the phone.

Love,
Dad

He certainly has a flair for the dramatic, wouldn't you agree? (Nice dig at my friends too Dad. Your popularity rating is skyrocketing right now.)

Okay, so apologies to everyone reading Jaw Wired Shut--if my terribly WRONG use of "anyways" has offended you, inspired feelings of nausea or shortness of breath, or just generally ruined your day--please forgive me. If you, like me, are "uneducated" and couldn't give a rat's ass--again, I apologize. But hey, a big YOU'RE WELCOME! to those who enjoy a good inner-family passive aggressive fight over email. Oh that's right--my brother and step-mom were CC'ed on the email, in an apparent attempt at grammar intervention I assume.

ANYWAY, I can't claim to have perfect grammar and I hope you are not reading this blog in hopes of finding evidence of top notch prose or a fine example of the English language--all you are going to find are a lot of opinions, pop culture references, and self absorption. Family issues are extra.

Ode to WALL-E

I love when a book, a movie, or a piece of music can unexpectedly blow you away. Every few years I think I read a book that touches my heart; a story that somehow reaches my being in a very profound experience. I know that sounds HEAVY and dramatic (and is pretty poorly articulated), but really--I mean it! When I first read Life of Pi, I felt that way. And then earlier this year I read Shantaram and again had an experience where I found a book so beautifully executed that it touched me through and through (at the moment I am reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road and WOW).

Anyways, this afternoon I saw WALL-E and I had a similar experience. I remember in college when Finding Nemo came out. I love that movie for some sentimental reasons, but it is also a beautiful film, something that had a very pure magical effect. WALL-E was the same. I was glued to the screen throughout, blown over by the beauty, the humor, the cleverness, the whimsical characters, the message, the love. I have this weird unconscious tendency to put my right hand over my heart when I am feeling especially moved... there's a scene in WALL-E in which WALL-E and EVE "define dancing" and I found myself doing this--it's like a nervous tick but I seem to do this when I am really invested in the moment. And there I was, totally caught up in the magic of the film. (I realize this sounds especially corny and depicts me as a total softy, but I'll own up to it! It was that good!)

I think it's not often that we are so deeply touched by a piece of art. Sure, movies can have lasting impressions, but to walk away feeling in love with a film--I think that's rare. It happens more often with books (for me), but it was so wonderful to find that awe and become enamored in a story like WALL-E. Seriously, everyone should see this film. It will brighten your day, even when you aren't in need of brightening.

WAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLEEEEEEEEE.

Family Guy Friday

This clip encapsulates a lot of what I love about Family Guy. (Warning: dead bullfrog alert).

Is it iPhone time yet?

I know you're expecting this post to be about me bragging about my kickass new iPhone and how I was the first person in line after camping out last night and I made so many new great friends who also happen to be serious technology lovers etc etc etc. Well, that's not the case. I did walk by the line into the Apple store around 7:45 am this morning when I was on my way to the gym. Miserable. Seriously, there was no way I was going to tolerate waiting in that line. I am the type of person where if I am in a store and am going to buy some clothes, if there is a line longer that 3 people I will leave. Generally I am quite patient but when you are waiting in an unnecessary line? No thanks, not for me. Also miserable was the poor shmuck who's job it was to pep up the crowd. Another thing I couldn't tolerate at 8 am on a Friday morning.

My plan is to check out the situation later today and see if the hoopla has calmed down any. Otherwise I am going to wait until Monday or Tuesday when all the geeks are satisfied and the lazy iPhone lovers, such as yours truly, can make a quick stop and pick up their new gadget in line-free peace.

cheeee eeeeeese

As I think I mentioned yesterday (or maybe it was the day before... cross country flights really mess with my sense of time) I used to be obsessed with Old School. I mean I watched that movie on a weekly basis, sometimes twice in a 24 hour time period (this would be because I would drunkenly fall asleep with the movie playing on a Saturday night and wake up Sunday morning and just replay--this also explains why I've seen the first half of Old School a significantly greater number of times more than the second. Oh, and the extra features.) Anyway, I used to quote the film a lot too, but am finding as Old School is roughly five years old now, my references have gotten, well, old. So with no further adieu, I'm bringing it back. Starting with my favorite line (catch it in the spotty clip below):



Oh yeah, Cheeee eeeeeese.

Top 25 Most Played

One of my favorite iTunes features is the smart playlist that shows you the songs you've listened to most during your tenure as an iPod owner and iTunes user. I especially love looking at other people's Top 25 Most Played to find something really embarrassing, although I don't think I have anything in mine that qualifies. Let's examine the evidence (in order of most played):

1. Reverie by Debussy
2. Break It Down Again by Tears For Fears
3. Universal Traveller by Air
4. Your Ex-Lover is Dead by Stars
5. Burning by Whitest Boy Alive
6. This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) by the Talking Heads
7. Kaleidoscope by Kate Havnevik
8. Comptine d'été, N. 2 by Yann Tierson
9. I Don't Know You by Kate Havenvik
10. Fireworks by Whitest Boy Alive
11. Comptine d'un Autre Été by Yann Tierson
12. La Valse D'Amelie (Piano Version) by Yann Tierson
13. Ravers by Steel Pulse
14. Nowhere Warm by Kate Havnevik
15. Alone in Kyoto by Air
16. New Slang by The Shins
17. Message in a Bottle by The Police
18. Free Man in Paris by Joni Mitchell
19. To Build a Home by Cinematic Orchestra
20. Kill the Messenger by Shawn Colvin
21. Jump (For My Love) by The Pointer Sisters
22. Wanna Be Startin' Something by Michael Jackson
23. Pioneers by Bloc Party
24. Grace Kelly by Mika
25. You Know I'm No Good by Amy Winehouse

See, nothing embarrassing, right? Well maybe the abundance of classical, especially the piano music from the film Amelie (that's all the Yann Tierson stuff)... actually no, I am not ashamed that I listen to these songs excessively (especially not Debussy's Reverie which is probably my favorite piece of music ever). My love for classical music shows I am well-rounded and appreciate HIGH CULTURE. Duh.

What else? Well obviously I love electronica. Air, Kate Havnevik... yep. I also love some key jams from the 80s. Talking Heads, Tears for Fears, The Police, Michael Jackson (before the little boys phase)--they all rank up in my top 10 favorite bands.

I guess I am surpirsed by the presence of Mika and Amy Winehouse, both great, sure, but why have I listened to them so much? I think that Mika jam is probably on heavy rotation because it is on all my workout playlists and my iPod shuffle. And even though I've got Amy Winehouse on there, she's pretty badass and that song is pretty great. Fits in with the other more "indie" groups on the list like The Shins, Whitest Boy Alive, and Stars.

Really, I am quite pleased with myself. I think my Top 25 Most Played shows a lovely mix of my eclectic music tastes. I wish there had been a big surprise though, like some big musical number from Les Miserables or Wilson Phillips or even a Britney Spears tune ooooh or maybe some crazy death metal from, I don't know... Papa Roach? I guess when it comes down to it, I'm pretty vanilla, but with just enough flavor in there to spice things up a bit. I am surprised that neither Queen, Manu Chao, nor Huey Lewis and the News made it on to that list--all on heavy rotation (an odd trio I realize, but I love my wild French/Spanish/Canadian rock just as much as I love a solid 80s synthesizer and an androgynous lead singer.

So, I implore you all to take a gander at your most frequently played songs. Keep in mind that when someone else gets ahold of your iPod they might do the same (what, not everyone judges others based on their music collection? That's just me?) so it might be a good idea to cool it on the Disney hits and Toby Keith.

Two Reasons I am Going to See Step Brothers

I'm sort of over the Will Ferrell tired and true brand of comedy. Talladega Nights was painful and I slept through half of Semi Pro (okay so I was drunk when I watched it but that is besides the point). In college Will Ferrell was my go-to. I used to spend every hungover Sunday morning watching Old School and I loved Anchorman from the moment I laid eyes on that beautiful Ron Burgandy mustache. Since then, the humor has gotten a bit... stale. I had no intentions of ever seeing the newest flick, Step Brothers, however as the trailer has been popping up on TV and in theaters, I just can't avoid it. And I have to say, there are two big reasons I am going to see the film, reasons that go back to the original Step Brothers trailer that first aired over a month ago.

1. The perfect use of the Hall and Oates jam "You Make My Dreams"
2. The perfect use of John Stamos

See for yourself.

Hotter Than Hell

New York. Yes, New York is hotter than hell. Manhattan specifically. Since around 5 pm EST yesterday (Monday) I've been suffering the scorching, heavy, and especially sweaty temperatures and humidity levels of the lovely New York City. Up until my arrival here I was ready to move back East. Well sure, who wouldn't want to vacation on Martha's Vineyard for the rest of their life? Then we got back to the city, and I was so perfectly reminded of a big reason as to why I left in the first place (flashbacks to running around here last August, sweating problem on overdrive, hot, sticky, sick of dealing with smelly public transportation and ready to drive to LA where all my hopes and dreams would come true).

And here I am, a little under a year later (a year being the start of my cross country road trip), certainly missing the East Coast, and NYC, but ever so excited to return home to LA.

A special thank you to Roomie #1, aka Ashleigh DiTonto, for her lovely blog posts. They were less of inspired writing as they were me sending her text messages and emails in which I used phrases such as "I demand you blog!" and "I know you are hooked, keep going!" But really I think she did quite a lovely job, staying in the tone of Jaw Wired Shut and adding her own flavor. Hopefully I will get her to add posts here and there from now on. Actually, anyone is more than welcome to write on this bad boy. (Anyone I deem worthy, aka anyone with a decent sense of humor, a high capacity for self-depreciation, and certainly someone self aware enough to recognize the high narcissistic levels of this entire enterprise).

What else is new besides feeding my sweating problem in New York and love for polo shirts and pearls on MV... I've been forced to (and against my will, can I add) shop quite extensively for my new job. Now this might surprise you... you might expect that I would be an avid shopper, harboring a deep love for all things material. Well, friends, this is NOT the case. I may love J. Crew and I may have an excessive wardrobe, but the actual process of acquiring said clothes is, in my humble opinion, NOT FUN. Especially not in 90 degree weather with humidity circa 100%. Especially when the clothes being shopped for are not fun exciting leisure clothes (in my case sweat pants and big tees) but are clothes for WORK. For your CAREER. For your PROFESSION. I am proud to say I still do not own a suit, although I am one step closer because I got a nice suit jacket. I know it might seem odd, or contrary not to own the matching pants, but I refuse until absolutely necessary. I prefer to mix and match anyways. So yes, it would seem that my time in New York has been spent shopping and sweating, and neither has been all that enjoyable.

I will say, it is wonderful to have spent some quality time back home on the East Coast and with my family. It's been a nice little recharging of the batteries but I'm fully charged now, starting to sweat, and ready for a return trip to my new home. And, as it's hotter than hell here, I can fully appreciate those 0% humidity levels Santa Monica has to offer. New Yorkers, be jealous. And then come visit.

Too Much Time On My Hands

As an assistant, especially in the entertainment industry, I feel you learn very quickly how to pass time (annie's blog is a great example of this). It starts as an intern when you have little to no responsibility, but still need to clock 8-9 hour days. It use to take me from 10am to 6pm to read 2 scripts and write coverage at one internship, which would have seemed absurd had not all the other interns been just as inefficient as I. Besides having a ridiculous ability to procrastinate, the internet and AIM ate up most of my day. And ironically enough, I would spend most of those hours talking to the intern who was down the hall from me. At one internship, I had so much free time that my internet shopping became a problem. I signed up for magazine subscriptions, bought useless and unnecessary items on target.com, and signed my soul away to the devil - aka columbia house DVD program. I was so exicted that I could get 10 DVDs for 50 cents that I didn't read the fine print. I'm usually much more street wise, but when you're on "summer break" from college, hung over, sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day NOT getting paid, you start to lose it a little.

As I was saying though, you learn how to pass time and more importantly how to do it while looking busy. People know you are not in fact busy, but if you've ever had to be that assistant supervising interns, you don't really care. If they've finished doing all the tasks you don't want to do (ie - filing, creating labels, reorganizing your boss's rolodex - yes people still use those and it's a pain in the arse to do) you'd rather they didn't circle your desk looking to be entertained.

The reason I bring this topic up is because my boss and the higher ups today are all out of the office in Santa Monica at some research seminar ALL DAY. This means I don't have to look busy, but I do have to keep busy so I don't reevaluate my life wondering why I'm spending the best years of my life in a 3 walled cubicle. So my first distraction of the harsh realities of life was to blog; however I didn't know what to blog about. Lots of pressure. Then I thought, why don't I address all the blogs Annie has brought up moi (that's for you Stamos), so I did a lil Ctrl F action and found all the references to Roomie #1 and wrote them down.

This is right up there with googling my name and right about the time I thought, man, I have entirely too much time on my hands.

side note - if you google my name please note that I didn't create my IMDB profile and was shocked after a slow day at the office to discover it when I googled my name and saw, Supervisor for HD Yule Log. The levels of hilarity that go behind this are endless and for a later blog.

Poor Man's Stamos

Roomie #1 here, aka ditonto. Annie so kindly suggested that I blog while she's away, so I will do my best to live up to her blogging standards. Although after her last post I'm guessing no one's going to check this until she gets back from the Vineyard (said with snobby accent). That's fine. I'm use to rejection (single tear).

I've never done this blogging thing and so I'm a little bit nervous and very amused by the whole process. For example, apparently the labels for this post are automatically suggested once you start typing and "scooters" is currently a label for mine. I mean, sure, why not?

I had no idea what to blog about, but then I thought, why don't I give Annie's very loyal readers a little commentary on their fearless blogging leader from the somewhat random roomie's perspective. Most of you know her quite well, but not all have you have lived with her, and even fewer have met her one day and lived with a shared wall between you and her the next, and that my friends, is an experience. I'd like to call this portion of the blog, Things I've Learned from Stamos...

1 - Self indulgent blogging can be liberating.

2 - Being a huge overly obsessed fan of Grey's Anatomy is waaaaaaay cooler than being a huge overly obsessed fan of "other worldly" movies and shows, ie - X-Files, LOTR

3 - Just Say Yes

4 - Being "bad ass" is a state of mind AND the main purpose in life.

5 - One can never have too many pairs of green pants

6 - There is a right and wrong way to cook eggs

7 - Who Jack Roger and Lilly Pulitzer are

8 - What NOT to say to a sensitive person during their sensitive moment

9 - How to properly do the 'shoulder jerk' dance when driving

10 - Girls who go to sleep in their pearl earings can also wake up early on Sunday in an XL t-shirt to watch football

so that's all I got for now...remember when reading this that this is in fact a No Judgement Zone

thanks and have a wonderful/drunk 4th!

Happy Holidays!

It's July 2nd. And I am writing this direct from New York City because my Fourth of July weekend has started early. This means that as of around 5 pm tonight I will be with limited internet access. That is AWESOME.

Anyways, while I am on Martha's Vineyard blog entries will be slim to none. However, when I am back in LA, in about a week, I am sure my brain will be ripe with ideas. Until, then hang tight, and maybe read a book or something. Or get back to work.

Oh and I got a new job. This is very, very exciting. It has potential to impact daily blogging, however we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Happy Independence Day, Happy Summer, Happy I Got a Kick Ass New Job! I'm OUT.

Ah, Young Hollywood

I just spent an excessive and unnecessary amount of time this morning reading Vanity Fair's cover story on "Bright Young Hollywood."

Now I feel awkward, jealous, spiteful, and somewhat disgusted with myself, the publication, and the profiled youths. Not surprising.

I live vicariously through others. Who doesn't, but oftentimes I am concerned I take this daydream-like fascination in celebrity or fictional television characters to unhealthy levels. For example:

1. My high school (and yes, current) obsession with The X-Files. I don't need to elaborate here, and I probably shouldn't as it will only freak you out further (if that's possible). But I was deeply invested in that show and especially in the platonic or not platonic relationship of Mulder and Scully.
2. My college obsession with Alias. I loved this show. Watched the entire series beginning to end, fantasized marrying Michael Vartan, and totally thought I could make a kick-ass spy.
3. My college obsession with Grey's Anatomy. This actually peaked post-college when I wasn't doing much of anything and had a lot of time to kill watching episodes over and over and over again. I still love the show but with less fervor. It's lost some of the magic. I've moved on to other things.
4. My current obsession and love/hate feelings for The Hills. This doesn't even come close to my actual obsessions for the first three, because I don't devote much time outside of watching it (during which I often have to leave the room after I become quite infuriated with the inane dialogue and sheer stupidity) to thinking about it. Yes, I did spend time thinking about the other ones. Pathetic? Sure.
5. My forever love for Friends. This would be the only show that I own every season of, and have seen multiple times over, yet always laugh at every joke as if it were the first time I heard it. I absolutely love Friends. Ross and Rachel? Them too. He's her lobster!

There's so many more... Weeds, Lost, Family Guy, The West Wing, Friday Night Lights... I didn't even touch on Battlestar Galactica or Arrested Development.

Yeah okay, so it's no surprise I just wasted some quality work time browsing the up and coming bright, shining lights of Hollywood stars-to-be, and simultaneously imagined what it might be like to live one of their semi-charmed lives (because mine's so terrible, natch).

You know, after living in Los Angeles for some time I keep thinking what I really need is to take a week and go to somewhere very remote and completely lose touch with reality, in order to get a reality check. I am headed to Martha's Vineyard tonight, although I am not sure a wealthy, conservative, summer island off the coast of Massachusetts counts. Actually, one agent recently told me that Martha's Vineyard is apparently the new hot destination for the Hollywood elite. Wonderful. I just can't escape.