Thank You, WSJ, for Validating My Existence

Okay so the other day I was telling my former boss I was coming down with a cold again, and she responded with "You are a fucking Petri dish of germs." She is both hilarious and correct. I seem to get sick a lot. Like, A LOT, a lot. An excessive amount. It's not usually anything major, although my sicknesses can often sideline me for a few days. And there was that time senior of college when I had to be hospitalized with what the doctor's told me was the worst case of mono they'd ever seen without my spleen bursting and resulting in death. Or back in July when I was vomiting every hour on the hour and couldn't keep a goddamn saltine in my stomach.

Okay so yes, I get sick a lot and I can get really sick and I know it is because I "burn the candle at both ends" as they say. OR IS IT?

GET THIS: The Wall Street Journal published an article detailing how children born in the winter or more likely to be sickly. OMG I WAS TOTALLY A WINTER BABY! (January 4th--remember that for when you want to send me a present. A gift certificate to J. Crew is advisable). This explains EVERYTHING!

Here's the link to the WSJ article, and you can just go ahead and ignore that whole section about how winter babies are less successful blah blah blah. Actually if my life turns out to be a miserable existence, then that's my cop-out. At this point in time, however, it's TBD. But F-you January birthday. Now I'm perpetually sick! AND, I have to share my celebratory time of year with Christmas. Ugh my life is soooooooooooo hard.*

*Please note sarcasm.

Wardrobe Lows

So this morning I was browsing my closet, trying to figure out what to wear to work, a more difficult task than usual considering it's been about a month since I've last done laundry, when I decided on a pair of lime green pants. Yesterday I wore a pair of kelly green pants. And I realized, as DiTonto once alluded to herself on this here blog, I could wear a different pair of green pants everyday of the week.

Well not anymore. Because I am such a disaster I spilled my lunch all over my green pants which are sure to now have some oil stains. Additionally, my sweater, one of my favorite navy blue J-Crew pullovers, has not one, not two, but THREE holes in it (two on the elbow, one on the side). So I am just looking fantastic.

I am a klutz on so many levels... and remember that New Years Resolution I had of getting my shit together? So not happening... and this little sign I have taped to my keyboard doesn't seem to help either.



(yes, that's real. I'm not very professional).

Neon Colors, Stickin' it to the Man Since 1984

The first Lilly Pulitzer dress I remember really loving (brace yourself, WASP alert) was one of my mother’s, from when she was young. It was a bright yellow shift with a lace detail around the bottom hem—lace in the shape of pineapples, and it’s worth mentioning she’d cut the dress to make it shorter (what a floozy!) when she was in high school. I first wore the dress in middle school, for a theme dance, but then in the summer time, when I realized Lillys were still acceptable at our country club (not only acceptable, but expected) I just started going Lilly-crazy. When I was really little my mother had always dressed me in Lilly-themed clothes, lots of bright colors, florals, patterns, and I almost always had a massive bow in my hair until I was 12 and decided I had outgrown my bow phase (don’t worry, I resurrected my love affair with ribbon in college—yes, college—when I started to wear them with ponytails). When I graduated from college the dress under my gown was—yep—a Lilly. A really bold one, with big parrots on it and pink and green and a waistline that made it look like a 10 year-old’s party dress. I was happy as pie (you know as I type this, I am having writing deja vu so there's a solid chance I've written about this before, but excuse my poor memory retention, and just enjoy the story, okay?)

By the time I graduated my Lilly Pulitzer collection was excessive, especially after years of vacationing with my Lilly-loving step-grandmother in Naples, Florida. I only have some of my dresses with me in LA (it’s not so much of a Lilly city), while the rest are in my closet in New York or in Maine. All in all, it’s something like 2 bathing suits, 6 shirts, 2 beach tunics, 2 pairs of shoes, 13 dresses, 2 scarves, 8 skirts, 3 sweaters, 3 bags, 2 pairs of shorts, and yes—even some overalls (granted, some of these I inherited from my mother, but keep in mind this doesn’t even include her original Lilly collection that I still have). So yeah, it’s utterly excessive and borderline disgusting, but I love each and every one of them. Oh and I even have some Lilly jewelry.

What can I say—I have a thing for bright colors, bold patterns and exciting prints. As I mentioned, LA isn’t a city where you spot a lot of Lilly, although there’s a store that sells dresses up the street from my current apartment and I imagine if you hit some Beverly Hills ladies’ luncheon gala fundraising event you’d spot some pink-and-green.

Since I’ve lived here I’ve modified my Lilly-love to just generally use LA’s great weather as an opportunity to wear bright colors all year round. I rarely wear one of my bold dresses, but I always sport one on Easter and maybe if I am at a day party. However, as I am noticing that neon and bright colors are big this season, I am going to start wearing Lillys to work. Yep, I’m going there. I’M CRAZY LIKE THAT.

Yes, I often talk about my wardrobe choices at work, and it’s heavy on the J. Crew, but also heavy on pushing the envelope, because unlike the majority of my suit-wearing company, my department, being “creatives” gets to get a little creative with the dress code. So in my own form of silent rebellion, a little Stamos-sitckin’-it-to the-man, I wear as much neon or bright colors in a given week as possible, and I think I am going to bring back retro-50s-housewife with my caché of Lilly Pulitzer goods. So far the HR fashion police reprimanded me once for questionable footwear (Jack Rogers--puhleeze), so I'm going to keep it up.

Today for example, I am wearing a denim dress however yesterday I got a great mani-pedi where my color of choice was, you guessed it, NEON ORANGE (you can see a pic in my Twitter feed). And my scarf today (love scarves)—also neon orange. While I am a teeny bit annoyed that neon is the color swatch of Spring ’09 (I like being a little unique in my affinity for brights), it’s just that much easier to find fun clothing items. I also have recently rediscovered Pac Sun, a store I definitely haven’t given a second thought to since middle school, but have noticed that it’s a great spot to pick up inexpensive bright-colored duds.

It’s sort of silly to think that wearing bright colors is what I view as silent rebellion—or that I feel compelled to find a way to “rebel” against corporate America and a diverse wardrobe is my tactic of choice. Hey, whatever gets you through the work day, right?

Are people trying to tell me something?

Two of my friends have sent me this some-e-card:



Okay, yeah I love J. Crew.

Clothing and Comfort and New Careers (maybe?)

Today I decided I need to step up my game in the outfit department. Recently I've been going REAL casual to work--pushing the limits with gladiator sandals, athletic t-shirts, etc. And I've been wearing a lot of brightly colored corodrouys (J. Crew, obv). So today I decided I was going to put a dress back on and some tights and I put on my new Marc Jacobs pumps that are so 80s and amazing and have Debbie Harry written all over them. Thing is though--when I get all dressed up I sort of realize that it's really not what I am meant to be wearing. I think I've spent the majority of the morning adjusting my dress, tights, and struggling to NOT fall over in 4 inch heels.

On Sunday I was walking around with two friends who were both in lovely girly outfits... well not even all that girly, but generally what normal females in their 20s might wear. I on the other hand was bopping around the posh shops on Montana in my tennis/workout/80s gear: sneakers, green gym shorts, turquoise thrift store sharks-wearing-sunglasses-tee, popped collar polo shirt over that, US Open baseball cap, Oakley Frogskin shades. Thing is, I might have looked really out of place (especially when we decided to hit up a bar around 3 pm) but I was in my ideal state of comfort. If I could wear workout clothes every day I would be a happy camper.

Maybe I should look into a career as a Phys Ed teacher? Discuss.

Dress to Stress

I forgot how to get dressed for work.

Now this probably won’t come as any surprise, seeing as I post frequently about my constant fashion faux-pas that are always work-outfit-related. Well this morning I legitimately took an hour trying and re-trying out different outfits, never satisfied and always feeling like I just look plain ridiculous.

What’s my problem?

Part of it is the weather. Just as I forgot how to dress to go out in Portland, Maine snow and ice, I have forgotten the winter attire of Southern California. My outfit today is representative of my confusion—a gray turtleneck sweater dress, belted with a thin gold braided belt, and patent leather nude round-toed pumps (J. Crew, bien sur). I am not wearing tights. Now, I would probably normally wear this dress with tights, maybe boots too and maybe sans belt. But this morning I was so confused/perplexed that I thought this might work?

The other part is because I didn’t get any new clothes for Christmas (just 15 pounds of shoes) and usually after a holiday break I’ve got enough new clothes to sustain me for a few days of fun outfits—which gets me back in the game. But now I am in this mess where I forgot how to turn my old clothes into viable work outfits.

As I so often say: I confused.

(And the lack of verb is intentional—really better to express the dire confusion).

Post du Jour

Bonjour mes petits choux. I am feeling tres French today, by which, bien sur, I mean, FRANGLAIS. (In other news, can anyone remind me of the shortcuts for inserting accents when using a PC? We of the Mac Family are PC-challenged). Do I look a little French? Peut-etre (or maybe, for you non-franglais speakers). Actually not really... I am essentially a walking J. Crew commercial, right from the headband atop my crown, to the argyle of my sweater to the courdoroy of my pants.



I really don't have enough argyle in my life.

Which reminds me I am très (that accent came from a copy & paste out of a word doc, in case you were wondering) excited to get to New York and Maine and to explore the contents of my closets in each. I have a feeling in New York I can find a pair of black Chuck Taylors (I have a pair of white ones here in Cali, because black is a bit harsh for the laid back vibes of the West Coast, n'est-ce pas?) and about 7 different cable knit sweaters of various neck styles and colors (my fave might be the navy turtleneck--oh it is simply divine!). Also waiting is my long puffy North Face jacket which is essentially a wearable sleeping bag. In Maine I recall leaving my duck boots, some Patagonia fleeces (my love for outwear is mutually inclusive when it comes to North Face and Patagonia) and a shit-ton of Dankso clogs, which you can really only wear in Maine. I also can't wait to explore what (if any) summer clothes I have that I can bring to LA. A certain LBD sticks out in memory (that's Little Black Dress, bien sur) which could be really useful for work and post-work events alike.

You know on second thought all this franglais and discussion of clothing direct from a prep schooler's closet circa 1982 is a little much au moment. I have to step out to the ladies room now, so I can admire my argyle for a moment. Excusez-moi.

Happy One Year Anniversary, to me!

Yes, just a year ago today I arrived in the great city of Los Angeles. Naive and unaware, I drove through Studio City, Burbank, Hollywood, to arrive at my temporary destination of West Hollywood, adorned in my J. Crew best. And pearls. Always pearls. (I could not have been less LA if I tried).

Flash forward a year, I am still wearing my pearls but I've clearly got a little more LA in me (see: Peace sign on my necklace, and scarf--even though it's the equivalent to a Maine summer outside). I am also really whiny that we only close at 3 pm on Rosh Hashana, and same for Yom Kippur (come on, HR--the Jews can't eat at all that day, can't we just close?). I also feel like a year's worth of getting your ass handed to you in the Entertainment Industry has been quite a schooling, and my innocence a year ago today is even more apparent. And like most who've suffered some time in the real world--I'm more jaded and bitter. Finally, like many others with a liberal arts education and a general wanderlust, I've determined that certainly the only career-choice that might really suit me is that of a self-involved mediocre writer. OH THE PLACES I'VE GONE!

That is to say, my how I've grown up. I guess my Freshmen year in the real world is over, which kind of sucks (especially because I will be turning a quarter-century in January) but I like to think that I can look forward to everything getting bigger and better from here on out, my paychecks included.

And to prove that I never really change that much, I am going to spend some time shopping J. Crew online--I've got a gift certificate and so many cardigans yet to be bought.

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.

My Nintendo Love Affair

Growing up my dad had one rule regarding cable television and videogames: Not allowed. My mom buckled when I was in eighth or ninth grade and not only did we upgrade to basic cable, but my brother got a Playstation (he was in college after all). However, since I can remember, both my brother and I watched a lot of TV and played a lot of video games growing up, thanks to all our friends who didn't have parents as strict as ours. (My dad even attempted to start a Dads Against Video Games group which I think had one other member, clearly a like-minded parent with a similarly suffering child.) I remember the original Nintendo, the first Gameboy, and of course the Nintendo 64. However, the first Nintendo that was ever in my possession (if only temporary because my brother let me borrow it for a few months), was the lovely but comparatively unpopular Game Cube.

I love the Nintendo Game Cube for two reasons, and two reasons only:

1) Mario Kart Double Dash
2) The Sonic Mega Collection

My senior year of college I spent the majority of Middlebury's winter term skiing, partying, and playing these two games on the Game Cube. (I also took a post-modern dance class. It was weird.) I drove my roommates crazy with my incessant howling at the TV or constantly spoken need to "re-beat Sonic 2 by February." Ultimately, the game cube was returned to its rightful owner (my brother), and I resumed my normal life (normal being a relative term), the few months of my Sonic obsession easily forgotten.

Last year when the Wii came out I was definitely interested in getting one. I logged a few hours in the Nintendo store in Rockefeller Center trying out the in-store demo of the new Zelda. FPS (first person shooter for non-gamers... gross, does this make me a gamer or can we just credit this to my wealth of knowledge?) games like Zelda were never my favorite, and I decided that the only thing that could drive me to purchasing a Wii (besides Wii Sports which is awesome) would be a new version of Mario Kart, at which I am phenomenal. Well, in late April Nintendo released Mario Kart Wii, and after spending the last half hour or so pouring over reviews, videos and user testimonials, I will admit it--I want a Wii.

I can never purchase a Wii. Nintendo, (Mario Kart and Sonic specifically,) holds a place in my life similar to that of certain television shows on DVD. I will obsessively devote unnecessary hours of time in front of the TV in what will ultimately be an unhealthy display of my strange love affair with specific video games. If I bought a Wii, not only could I pour my life into the new Mario Kart, but then I would play all the games I loved from my brother's Game Cube. No, I cannot buy a Wii, much like I cannot purchase the entire X-Files series on DVD, or upgrade my J. Crew card to "preferred member," or even even renew my college subscription to Us Weekly--it would suck my life away.

And thus I must suffer the consequences, getting by on fabulous reviews (like this one from IGN.com) and the occasional chance to play video games at someone else's house. I even gave away my old school Nintendo pack that my brother gave me last year to pass time after my jaw surgery--Duck Hunt, Super Mario, and everything.

The good thing about all this is I save a lot of money, and my nerd level decreases somewhat. I might love video games, but I don't actually own any. (Excluding the Sega Game Gear in my storage unit in Maine. I need to dig that thing up...)

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.

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

Conspiracy Theory: Nielsen Ratings

So over the weekend I was having various conversations with friends about watching television shows, and specifically, about Nielsen ratings. I think this was in reference to Friday Night Lights, which has recently been renewed by NBC but will also be airing on DirectTV. To gain more viewers I had a friend point out that we should all watch the show on different televisions. Another friend pointed out (or it might have been me, I was several glasses of wine in at this point) that this would have absolutely no weight on the ratings whatsoever--none of us have Nielsen boxes and therefore the high quality television programming we choose to support is probably not being watched by poorly educated overweight people in middle America whose tv choices actually make a difference. (Harsh, I know, but think of it as a dramatic attempt to emphasize my point).

Anyhoo, here is my new theory: the Nielsen Media Research program doesn't exist! It's a hoax! It's just a bunch of staged numbers given out by the moguls and conglomerates who own the companies that sell things like washing machines AND camcorders (actually, do people own camcorders anymore?), and yes that was a thinly veiled jab at NBC-Universal-General Electric-Darth Vader.

Does anyone actually know anyone who has a Nielsen box on their television? Think about it, do you? I certainly don't! THAT'S BECAUSE THEY DON'T EXIST. I know that some people might claim they do, but how can I get one? Hmm? HMMMMMMM???? Man I would kill to get my hands on one of those things!

I would also like to rule the world and ban Britney Spears from the United States. And I would like to be two inches taller. I would also like to have an unlimited gift certificate to J. Crew. And a yellow lab who would always stay a cute little puppy. And maybe my own country. Just a few requests while we're at it.

Big Tee or Dress?

I love big tees. Personal favorite? That's tough to determine. It could be my XXL Manny Ramirez Boston Red Sox shirt. Or my brother's Camp Winona "Staff" tee. Or possibly the hot pink beauty from my dad's old company that declares, "Holt, Hughes & Stamell. We take everything personally." In any case, I love a big tee. I love to talk about big tees and even more, I love the opportunity to sport one.

For this reason, my favorite current trend would have to be the big tee dress. For example, I am currently wearing a fantastic dress, that despite it's J. Crew label, is in reality just a potato sack with armholes. I have so many of these big tee dress hybrids that my closet is overflowing and I could probably go a month never repeating. These are great--you can dress them up, make them casual, sleep in them--whatever! Your life becomes remarkably versatile when you embrace the big tee dress. The other beautiful thing about these dresses--they are usually pretty inexpensive, because let's be honest, how expensive should a potato sack with armholes really be?

If and when this trend dies, as all trends eventually do, hopefully I will be able to find new purposes for my big tee dress. Perhaps at the point I will use them as they were really intended--potato sacks.