I DID IT YOU GUYS!

So I did my first ever sort of stand-up type thing EVER tonight (it wasn't stand up because I was reading something I already wrote) and it went really well.


So well in fact, that after the show, when I was walking out the door (because, like the sometimes socially-awkward gal I am, I like to bolt immediately after drawing attention to myself) some guy at the bar stopped me as I was walking out and said:


"You were the best."


"What?" I asked, because I was certain I had not heard correctly. There were like 8 other people doing stuff and mine was the shortest and the most different because it wasn't really on theme with the rest of the night and I was sweating a lot.


"Yours was the best."


"Thank you so much!" I said sweetly and then I ran right out of the bar.


My morning started out bad because I slept through my alarm and was a half hour late to work but then the day got better because I finished my pilot (that's 35 pages I WROTE you guys, I DID THAT!) and then right after I hit print and looked at my words I jetted off to this little comedy club and did my thing and some guy at the bar told me I was the best. 


I feel... relieved (PEOPLE ACTUALLY LAUGHED! BECAUSE OF MY JOKES! ME!), but I also have a headache (probably from my glasses but I've decided I am going to wear glasses whenever I do these sorts of things because it weirdly helps me get into "character" which is a super silly thing for me to say if the character is just myself but I swear that it helped, you guys, I swear) and I also kind of feel like I want to cry because there is nothing more I want right now then to call my mom and tell her about my amazing day that started so terribly and ended so well and I can't call her and well, that just SUCKS SO HARD (I miss you Mom and I love you forever and I know you're watching over me I do, but sometimes, God, I just want to be able to pick up the phone and call you) but also I just feel like... I don't know what I feel like... like, maybe like I can do this. Like maybe if I can stay on this momentum and keep doing stuff and just keep on trying things I'll figure it out. I don't even know what "it" is. Maybe it's me or my life or my career goals or comedy or writing or just everything but I feel like I'm getting closer.


But whatever, the bigger deal here is that I did a comedy show and it went really well. And it's a good thing too because I've got another one on Saturday! OH SHIT! After the show I came home to an empty house which is rare when you have three other roommates and I thought that I should write this down, how I am feeling and I thought I would do it on Tumblr because that really is where I seem to be doing most of my blogging these days but then I thought, no, this is Jaw Wired Shut material. This is me. And I feel like there are only 2 people still reading this blog (are you out there? SHOW YOURSELVES!) but if there are it's the same people who've been reading me since I started this thing when I moved to LA in 2007 and look how far I've come!


And did you hear? I was the best, you guys! THE BEST!

Things I Published Elsewhere: The Story of How I Forgot My Pants

THIS IS SOMETHING I PUBLISHED ELSEWHERE

Hey everyone! I’m starting this new thing called No Pants Fridays! It’s also called Pantsless Fridays! Essentially, it’s when you don’t wear pants on a Friday. 

I know - genius, right? And now you’re dying to know how I came to invent such a monumentally brilliant idea, and you should be excited because the story of my brilliance is a lot like how that guy invented sticky notes by making a mistake or how that other guy invented the hula hoop because of the coffee ring his mug left on the newspaper — this story is just that good and will probably be just as famous. Mark my words. You’ll be thanking me for Pantsless Fridays for years to come!

It begins at nighttime, last night to be precise, when I was getting out of my car and made the executive decision to leave my gym bag in my car. “Why bother lugging that satchel all the way upstairs when I’ve already got everything I need for tomorrow’s gym trip right here. Including pants!” (OR SO I THOUGHT).

Then it was this morning and I was getting dressed after my workout, really excited about the nice, preppy outfit I was going to cap off my week with. (There’s nothing that makes me feel better about myself than really pulling off a good outfit on a Friday. I like to go out with a bang). I had prepared brown riding boots, a blue striped oxford button-down, a navy blue crewneck pullover, a brown belt to match the boots, and pants. (OR SO I THOUGHT).

There weren’t any pants. THERE WEREN’T ANY PANTS. So first I had a panic attack which resulted in some extreme sweating and then I formulated a plan to ransack my car for a back-up. I just knew there would be something in that mobile closet for me to wear.

Like any good LA-living young professional fashion-concious girl I keep piles of clothes (and other things) in my car at all times. I have a really nice Barbour coat that has lived in the backseat of my car since last March. You NEVER know when you might need to go horseback riding in the British countryside. Some of the other things I keep in my car are as follows:

• a sleeping bag
• three scarves
• a white blazer with shoulderpads
• LL Bean duckboots
• two umbrellas
• a sleeping pad
• a pipe
• a television wall mount
• Aquaphor
• 23 reusable grocery bags
• one TOMS shoe (the right one)
• two cardigans, both blue
• denim cut-off shorts
• a tennis ball
• a tennis raquet
• SillyBandz
• khaki shorts with neon orange stripes down the side
• a Barbour coat
• Febreeze
• a flashlight
• four pairs of sunglasses
• one fleece pullover

So while I could play tennis in full rain gear smoking a pipe in the dark and then comfortably sleep on a mattress made from grocery bags, I could not wear pants. 

Faced with my destiny, I made the logical choice — of all the items in the car, only two were “bottoms” and of those two, the khaki shorts were slightly more work-appropriate than the denim ones, and thus I donned my brown riding boots, my blue striped oxford button down, my navy blue crew neck pullover, my brown belt to match the boots and khaki colored shorts with a neon orange stripe on either side. In other words, I dressed like a German boy hunting for his Oktoberfest supper.

I am lucky enough to have amazing co-workers who declared they too would take off their pants in solidarity - and thus, Pantsless Fridays was born.

(I’m going to the mall to buy some pants now).

Happy Holidays from Jaw Wired Shut!

Happy Holidays everyone!

I'm about to leave for a vacation that includes a few days in New York City followed by a week in Peru. I'm back in LA the night of January 4th (cough mybirthday cough) and I'd say there's a 75% chance I don't write on this here blog once that entire time.

However, you can bet your asses I'll be on Twitter - so follow me, if you aren't already, which is unlikely, but I feel as though that should be mentioned. And if you're spending a lot of your time thinking, "God I wish Annie Stamell was blogging right now" then I would say this: (1) Dad get away from the computer (2) call your therapist or (3) I've been writing this since like, 2007, and I used to write about a lot of weird shit so just, like, read old posts or something.

But yeah - The Twitter. I'll be there. I might even be tweeting from Peru... but hopefully not - I'm really trying to get a nice break from technology this vacation. I'm even leaving my computer at home! [Insert gasp to express shock here].

So until my triumphant return, thanks so much for visiting! To all the people who've taken the time this year to check out my blog for some reason or another, I think it's just swell. Some of you came because you thought I offered legitimate advice about maxillofacial surgery. Others because you want to talk TV. Others because you thought this was Ann Coulter's blog.  Others because you can't turn away from the crazy. Others because you thought this was John Stamos' blog. Others because you're my Dad, and I make you.

No matter what the reason, I'm glad you found me! Thanks for visiting, and I hope you'll keep reading Jaw Wired Shut in the New Year (even you, Ann Coulter fans).

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!
Love,
Annie

Social TV Viewing Chez Moi

Let's say you were considering watching TV at my house, with me and my roommates (DiTonto, Adubs, Becca and our lovely summer squatter Bui) - what could you expect? What's it like watching TV targeted for tweens with five girls in their mid-twenties?

Well, in an email chain attempting to plan what time we'd be watching tonight's mid-season finale of Pretty Little Liars, Becca made an insanely hilarious, and likely accurate prediction for the night:

I know you're all looking forward to group watching. We all know that Adubs is going to pause a lot to discuss. And I'm going to get up 9 times to do miscellaneous activities and Stamos is gonna be like "wait what's going on" and then Bui is going to get up and get watermelon three times and leave her bowl on the floor next to her flip flops and groan about how much she's eaten. Next we'll have Ash holding her shirt over her nose from the smell of the popcorn I'll inevitably make, huffing and puffing the whole time about who is talking and what's going on and how she is nauseous and we are all going to end the PLL watching affair with the same sort of blank stare that the impeccably dressed liars take on with every new A-originated SMS.

Becca - you're a genius. Those girls really have that post-text blank stare locked down, and it's not too far off from our own collective post-viewing expressions. (And I do realize the irony of the fact that I, the TV obsessed one, is almost always the one who has no idea what's happening - but that applies to most of my life.)

Much love to the four girls I live with...

The Panty Police

Saturday night I had a run-in with the cops. Now, before you go ahead and jump to any conclusions, it’s worth mentioning that in the time I have lived in Santa Monica I’ve had more run-ins with police officers than I have my entire life prior to moving here. And they’ve always been for the same reason: noise. Yep. People in Santa Monica seem to hate people who like to do things like, oh, I don't know... enjoy life and have fun with their friends... so, as you can imagine, we’ve had cops show up to our apartments for a variety of noise-related reasons. My favorite time was when they came over because we were watching Planet Earth too loud… at least, that was until this most recent run-in...

After a fun night out Saturday, two of my roommates and I ended the night back at our apartment. Sure we were pretty drunk – I’m not going to pretend that wasn’t the case… Actually, let’s get down to it: we were hammered.

Somehow, in the early hours of the morning (I think we thought it was around 2am but it turns out it was closer to 4am) we all ended up in DiTonto’s bedroom having a late night dance party (LNDP for the uninitiated. Obv.) We often joke that our apartment is “pants optional” and this was one of those nights – because both Becca and Ash were in their underwear and t-shirts, although I for some reason was still fully dressed, shoes and all (I have no idea why but I sometimes have a tendency to not take my shoes off until I go to bed).

Now when I say LNDP, I don’t mean like a singalong to music from Glee. We were rocking out to Gorillaz – yes, still riding that Coachella high – and when I say rocking out I mean HARD CORE. Like dancing our faces off. And each one of us totally in our own world in a different corner of DiTonto’s room, with DiTonto holding court jumping and dancing on top of her bed.

Anyway, the song “Rhinestone Eyes” is blaring and we are just all so into it and next thing I know there are two policemen standing in the doorway of DiTonto’s bedroom – which I might add, is fairly deep into our large apartment.

So essentially, two cops who were probably expecting to walk into some apartment and find a massive rager of a party just came across three girls dancing, two of them in their underwear, having a great time. It’s the start to a bad porno.

(It’s also worth mentioning there are empty beer cans everywhere. Among other things.)

These cops were just standing sort of in stunned shock looking at us, and while Becca and DiTonto immediately drop to the floor covering their mouths I just kept repeating “Oh my God I am so embarrassed.”

We then get the following speech: “First of all, your door is wide open so you should probably remember to lock that from now on. And secondly, your music is so loud you didn’t even hear us until we came all the way to the bedroom.” And maybe they said something after that, but all I remember is that the second they walked out of the bedroom door the three of us burst into uncontrollable fits of giggles. We’re talking rolling on the floor, holding our bellies and laughing so hard it hurt giggles.

I am guessing Sunday morning some fellow cops got a good story over donuts.

When you wish upon a star...

As you may have noticed, either from the day-before post, or the lack of posting, I spent all day last Friday with my roommate DiTonto and her mom, who had been in town visiting us for the week, at the magical place that is Disneyland.

Now, what I may have failed to mention is that this was really my first Disney experience. The one where I was pretty much a baby doesn’t count. It’s also worth mentioning I have never been to a Six Flags or a Busch Gardens, and my only amusement park experience is Funtown USA, aka Maine’s pathetic excuse for a theme park (for proof of this lackluster place, please enjoy their budget website). I have also not been on a rollercoaster since I was in England in eighth grade, and I have never been on a ride that goes upside down.

So what I am trying to prepare you for here, is that this trip to Disneyland, was, as Joe Biden would say, A BIG FUCKING DEAL.

I’m not going to give you a full minute-by-minute recap, but I am going to share a few thoughts, and some pictures…

First, up did you know you get those mouse ears embroidered with your name? YOUR NAME! And if it’s your first time at the park you get a first time pin, also with your name! And, because I love Michael Jackson (and crewneck sweatshirts), after seeing his aspiring Star Wars film Captain EO I got a totally rad Captain EO sweatshirt.



I almost started crying on two rides, coincidentally the ride that kicked off the day – Star Tours (when I saw C3PO, as well as the promise of visiting Hoth and Endor I freaked out), and then the ride that closed the day, the Finding Nemo submarine adventure (because I love that movie so much it hurts).



DiTonto got a picture of me hugging a giant stuffed Winnie the Pooh, as well as a candid where I was standing on top of a picnic bench in an attempt to look at a Disney princess. She and Mama D also claimed they needed one of those leash backpacks that three-year-olds get. Because you know what? I FELT LIKE A CHILD. I DID. AND IT WAS AWESOME. I mean, it was magical. It really was.

Finally, I went on my first rollercoaster in 13 years: California Screamin’. And it went upside down! I took a picture of the picture they take when you are mid-ride, and while DiTonto’s face is covered in shadow, you can see the absolute glee on my face.



Obviously, my favorite part of this picture is the chick sitting in front of me. She looks like she is either about to vomit or murder someone. I am glad she didn’t do either.

DISNEY! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Tomorrow I am going to Disneyland.

DISNEYLAND!!!!!!

I am so excited! I went to Disneyworld in Florida once when I was three years old but I don't remember anything besides singing "It's A Small World" to my brother over and over again afterwards. That's it though. I feel like there was a haunted house with ghosts I was scared of, too? No idea. I mean, really, my dad emailed me yesterday to say "I'm glad you'll have a Disney experience you can remember."

BUT I AM SO EXCITED. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. I KIND OF HAVE TO PEE. LIKE EXCITED PEE.

This? Right here? THIS IS ME:

Wicked 90s

I have a tendency to use decades as adjectives. For example, this past President's Day weekend was pretty epic in a decade-specific way. How do I mean? Well, most epic was the 90s sleepover party that rounded up my Sunday night. What began as a typical night at Venice bars (what's that, it was Valentine's Day? Yeah, didn't notice) ended up with 5 people eating snacks in our living room, watching Beetlejuice (sidenote: probably one of my top five favorite movies ever) and playing Jenga. Yes, Jenga. Even better? We all slept in the living room, sprawled out on couches, and it wasn't until around 6am that people emerged from confused sleep and I stumbled off to my own bed (turns out, it is better to sleep with a blanket!).

Additionally, I watched a LOT of Olympics this weekend. Which feels very 90s to me as well, considering I spent the better part of my childhood obsessed with skiing and figureskating - and even competing in both at different points. I could watch the Olympics allllll day...

So. You are going to run into a pedestrian and then you are going to just DRIVE AWAY?!?

I was the victim of a hit and run on Saturday.

No really.

However, it was not as bad as it sounds.

But first, let me set the scene:

It was around 2:30pm Sunday. I was at the beach with my room mates and friends when the pain of my post-Halloween hangover had become too great and I was certain that my only haven would be the shelter of my bed and perhaps some Chinese food (orange chicken, specifically). I bid my friends farewell and slowly made my way from the beach, pausing once I reached Santa Monica's Main Street to wander into a quirky jewelry store on the corner. After realizing I didn't have my wallet on me, I decided it was time to charge across the street, up the hill and to my lovely apartment.

So here's what happened:
I was in a daze, but waited for the walk sign to turn into that little white walking man light because here in Los Angeles you do NOT j-walk (is that jay walk or j walk? Funny, I have never written that term before...) so the second I had a "go", I slowly made my way across the street, towards the Coffee Bean on the corner when all of a sudden A CAR IS DRIVING INTO ME. As in, here I am just walking walking I'm walking and all of a sudden my shoe is off and I am jumping backwards as my left arm slams against the hood of a sedan and then I am screaming at the idiot operating the motor vehicle "WHAT ARE YOU DOING I'M WALKING HERE!" (Interesting that my first reaction was to slam her car and get angry. I imagine a psychologist would have a FIELD DAY with that one), and then I picked up my shoe and slowly stumbled along the crosswalk, in shock, clearly.

So the driver of this champagne colored sedan (I think it was an Infiniti) rolls down the window, apologizes a few times as I continue to get angry and look at her in confusion (because then I was also wondering, did I do something wrong? WHICH I DIDN'T BY THE WAY) and then. THEN.

SHE DROVE AWAY.

I'm sorry, but if you are turning left on a red light and hitting pedestrians as they walk across the street when it is THEIR TURN TO DO SO perhaps you should then pull over and check on these startled, potentially injured pedestrians. I MEAN REALLY.

I was so freaked out from the whole thing but fortunately there's always a lot of hippies milling about in front of the Coffee Bean (so, they're not as anti-establishment as you might think) who made sure I was okay and then I trudged up the hill home.

It wasn't until this morning when I noticed the left side of my midriff is bruised and my arm is pretty sore, as well as the foot that temporarily lost the shoe. But otherwise, I'm good.

So yeah. I am fine. But that woman who drove away after hitting me? She won't be fine. Karma's a bitch. So where ever you are hit-and-run lady, you've got yours coming, mark my words. And I hope I left a dent in your car from where my hand slapped the hood with my super human strength. That is all.

Music, Vegas, and that other time in Vegas

This is a big week for music in my life. No, it’s nothing nostalgic or sentimental, I just happen to be seeing two kickass bands this week and in some great venues.

For starters, Wednesday night I saw Phoenix play at the Greek Theatre. The show was fantastic. It more than made up for the miserable hour-plus traffic-heavy drive to the hipster haven known as Griffith Park. I’ve been listening to Phoenix for years now, maybe since when they first arrived on the scene, and while some of their oldest hits are my favorites, I’ve been totally nutso for their most recently released album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. They are impressive live; at sometimes orchestral, other times a less abstract version of Daft Punk, and a few times I really got the sense I was at one hell of a rock show. So yes, it kicked ass. The Greek Theatre is a sick spot to catch a gig, as well. A little more intimate than the Hollywood Bowl, but still with the incredible sensation of being at an outdoor amphitheater.

Tomorrow night I’ll be seeing the Killers play in Vegas. I saw the Killers play at Coachella earlier this year, which as you may recall, I raved about. Like Phoenix, I’ve had their most recently released album on steady rotation since January, and they strike me as a band that is consistent in delivering a great show. In fact, the Killers hail from Vegas, so what better excuse to head to Sin City?

Speaking of, the last time I went to Las Vegas was when I was driving across the country and it was an unintentional stop along the way. And I stayed at the Travel Lodge. Yes, the Travel Lodge. Why the Travel Lodge? Well, isn’t that obvious? Circus Circus, (aka shittiest casino in all the land,) was sold out.

You see, when driving cross country I was living the life of a traveling minstrel, and frugal was my middle name (okay, so I wasn’t ACTUALLY playing folk songs in royal courts, but I was living like a pauper, with all my earthly belongings jammed into my car). Circus Circus was the highest price we’d go for a hotel, but when that was sold out, the Travel Lodge was the logical next choice. And please keep in mind this is after days of camping and sweating and hiking and no showers. Oh and running out of gas in Utah and hitchhiking. Good times.

But anyway, my first and only other time in Vegas was a much different experience from what I expect to have tomorrow night. It was unique and amazing and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, but I am looking forward to experiencing Vegas in the more traditional sense. A night’s stay at the Venetian, a show, maybe a slot machine go-round, and hopefully I won’t end up with Mike Tyson’s tiger in my hotel suite Sunday morning a la The Hangover. But it is Vegas after all, so I guess all bets are off…

Introducing, for the first time ever, A REAL VACATION

Hello friends, loyal readers, family members, and whoever it is that searched "can I smoke a cigarette with my jaw wired shut" (no you cannot, and what are you doing smoking in the first place? It's so passé); I have an announcement:

I am going on vacation. Yes, a REAL vacation; I am not bringing my computer with me.

Please, pick up your suddenly dropped jaw up off the floor and pretend to not be so surprised! It is true--for the next 10 days I shall be computer free.*

What a momentous occasion this is! I am not only going to be computer free, but temporarily JOB FREE. (Is this what it was like during the Neolithic Age or something? Shall I become a hunter and gatherer? The nomadic life would suit me well, I think it would!). Yes, I am going to be completely unhinged, detached and enjoying every second of it. There will be dancing, and swimming, and sailing, and kayaking, and running, and tennis, and laughter OH THE LAUGHTER!

I anticipate that I will experience slight withdrawal, almost at once, however I will have a six hour plane ride to New York to prepare** and then I will be swept away from one activity to the next, from the city to Rye for a wedding, back to the city briefly and then off to Maine--the true one and only love of my life. Computer shumputer. I don't need that nonsense! I'm bringing four books! And a journal! I am going to love it!***

*I will have my iPhone as well as access to my dad's laptop and probably my step-mom's too. So maybe I am exaggerating. So maybe I am not completely without computer access. But this is HUGE for me, am I right or am I right?
**By prepare, I mean take a Xanax and pass out.
***Within three hours I will be freaking out and will take more Xanax.

Monday Night (A Two Part Tale)

Prologue
Brace yourself readers, you are in for one seriously long post but let me preface it with a disclaimer: THIS IS A TRUE RETELLING OF MY ENTIRE MONDAY NIGHT, from which I hope you will find joy and humor, and maybe a little personal reflection and probably you’ll get annoyed somewhere around the middle but then you'll get into the stuff about Mexico and you might just come out feeling victorious and refreshed.

Part 1.
On a scale of 1 to 7, Taco Bell is obviously a 7

So DiTonto is buying a new car. And DiTonto is... well... we’ll call it particular. Being the good friend I am (and because she dealt with my car trauma back in July) I went with her to some dealers last night to attempt to help. I say attempt because car shopping with Ashleigh is like taking an autistic child to the grocery store. That was incredibly offensive. I have no idea what it would be like taking autistic child to the grocery store. Let me try a new metaphor. Car shopping with Ashleigh is like taking an eight year old to the world’s largest toy store but the kid wants a fucking toy that HASN’T BEEN INVENTED YET.

Right now she drives a small, fire-engine red 2001 VW Bug. So you’d think naturally she’d want another small car, maybe even another bug because she LOVES HER CURRENT CAR SO MUCH. Oh no. NOT DITONTO. CERTAINLY NOT.

See, at some point on Sunday DiTonto decided to get THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF A BUG. She thought she wanted a pick-up truck but then when we actually looked at them yesterday she didn’t like any of the ones that didn’t have power locks or windows. But then any of the trucks with automatic amenities were too large or expensive or white was an unacceptable color for the truck. And apparently she is over the VWs. So then we drove by Honda and I suggested a Fit, but NO NO NO, not for DiTonto.

Then we went to the giant Ford & Jeep dealership in Santa Monica to support our love for America and Freedom and this is when DiTonto fell in love with a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. A big honker that is army green with a massive spoiler on the front and crazy looking headlights to hunt Mexicans with. That was incredibly offensive. Let me rephrase. A big honker that is army green with a massive spoiler on the front and crazy looking headlights to hunt... to hunt... to hunt Mexicans with. I CAN’T HELP IT! (sorry I am just being extra non-PC today but also because the universe is shitting on Mexico right now and so I feel like maybe I can too? Just today? No? How many people of Mexican lineage have I offended at this point? Would it help to know that as a child I went to summer camp in Mexico and actually have a deep love and respect for the country? Still no? What was that? Something about SWINE FLU? DON’T WORRY I’LL GET TO THAT IN PART 2!)

Anyway, after all the test driving we needed some sustenance so naturally we went to Taco Bell. (See, DiTonto introduced me to Taco Bell and I introduced her to certain illicit substances I’d rather not spell out here on the blog BUT YOU GET THE IDEA I MEAN WE WERE AT COACHELLA TWO WEEKS AGO AND YOU KNOW I AM LIBERAL AND WENT TO SCHOOL IN VERMONT SO TAKE A GUESS, but really the point of this is that we both brought things that do harm to your body into each others’ lives so it’s ALL OKAY! WE'RE EVEN.)

We both ordered Crunchwrap Supremes (I order that because I don’t know what I am supposed to get at Taco Bell and just get what DiTonto tells me to. I'm very free-thinking), and Ashleigh also got a burrito because her eyes tend to be larger than her stomach and then when we pulled up to the window to pay and get our food, the nice Taco Bell employee handed me a receipt and pointed out that on the back of said receipt there was a place to rate their service. I handed the receipt to DiTonto, thinking very little of this exchange, when she said to me,

“Wait, they want me to rate their service?”

Yes.

“Well they’re a fucking 7, GIVE ME A PEN!”

And then she circled 7, as evidenced by the photo of the receipt below. However, once DiTonto learned that she would have to call a number to win any money after rating the Taco Bell service she lost interest. (In addition to being particular, sometimes DiTonto is... lazy).



Then we got home and ate our Taco Bell at the kitchen table but I almost fell out of the chair a few times because when Annie bought the furniture from Ikea she didn’t follow ALL the directions (you could say). And then DiTonto almost MURDERED Annie’s fish (not like it hasn’t happened before DITONTO) when she shook the table after two drastic movements and poor Snoopy/Blue (Annie calls him Snoopy, DiTonto calls him Blue, I haven’t decided what I like to call him but I am sure it will come to me) sloshed all over the place. He’s okay though.

Part 2.
Regarding Swine Flu – I would voluntarily quarantine myself

Annie and I are quite similar when it comes to some of our interests. Okay that was an awkward first sentence but I sometimes wonder if people get confused when I write about Annie so I am going to take this moment to remind you that Annie is my other roommate who shares my name, who we also call Adubs because DiTonto gets annoyed when she yells out “Annie!” and we both respond and so she calls me Stamos and the other Annie Adubs and moving on to the relevant part of the story...

Adubs, like me, often becomes fascinated with scientific phenomena. Maybe not quite to the extent I do, but she definitely is a fountain of knowledge in some very random areas. She also gets into PASSIONATE diatribes about various topics, one of her favorites being that of MASS PANDEMICS. This obviously is something I find interesting and count pandemic-related literature and entertainment to be among my favorite subject material (see, I Am Legend or The Cobra Event by Richard Preston). Anyway, just this past weekend, before Swine Flu became all the rage, Adubs and I were randomly having a conversation all about looking at disease and epidemics like AIDS, cancer, etc. as actually just forms of population control (on a side note, can someone explain to me the difference between an epidemic and a pandemic? THANKS IN ADVANCE!) and Adubs made the point that there tends to be a mass plague that wipes out a significant portion of the human population every 80 to 100 years and we are right in that timeline now, but then this led to a discussion about modern medicine and we pondered the likelihood of the reality of another pandemic taking place in modern times, and then Adubs shared some useful tips about surviving pandemics (Tip: don’t panic. Also, don’t head to the countryside—cities have the infrastructure to support more sick people) and at this point you are probably thinking, Oh this is what happens when you get two people from Middlebury in a room together. Sure.

So anyway, have I talked about Annie’s mom before? Annie’s mom is Linda and she is a CHARACTER and she visits A LOT which is fun because Linda is entertaining. In fact DiTonto remarked last night she was so used to seeing Linda at our apartment that sometimes she doesn’t even notice. Oh and Linda loves American Idol. Many an occasion have I come home to find Linda watching American Idol on the sofa. It’s kind of comforting.

So last night after the car driving and the Taco Bell eating and the near death of Snoopy/Blue/Undetermined Nickname we hung out a little bit with Linda who wanted to show everyone Adam’s performance on American Idol last week (I think Adam is the gay one? Again, I really don’t watch the show but I am pretty sure he’s not the Indian one because that dude’s name is Anoop and I feel like I read somewhere he got kicked off but seeing as I vehemently despise American Idol and only watch it if it’s playing in the background, so really any time when Linda is in town, so I could be making these things up). The other thing Linda likes to watch just as much as American Idol is CNN, so I then went back into the living room for the Swine Flu coverage (I had to leave during AI to read one of my sci-fi blogs on my Google reader) and let me tell you: SWINE FLU IS SO HOT RIGHT NOW.

As a trend forecaster (I KNOW! THAT’S REALLY WHAT I DO FOR A LIVING! ME!) let me tell you that Swine Flu is definitely both a trend and potentially a mass pandemic of devastatingly destructive proportions. And because I am odd and a little bit twisted, I think Swine Flu is FASCINATING and I am somewhat excited to see how this all pans out. And those doctors that CNN gets to comment on such BREAKING NEWS STORIES are pretty hilarious. Especially this one dude with crazy hair who gave a book plug during a VERY SERIOUS AND INTENSE SWINE FLU DISCUSSION with Larry King. Also, did you know that the mortality rate of the Spanish Influenza back in 1918 was %2.5 and Swine Flu in Mexico is already at %6?

Which brings me to my next point: HOLY CRAP THE UNIVERSE IS SHITTING ON MEXICO! First all that drama with drug cartels, then Spencer & Heidi from The Hills go on their Goddamn honeymoon in Cabo (I just vomited in my mouth a little bit), and NOW ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE DYING OF SWINE FLU. Oh and there appear to be a lot of idiots in the United States because the Twitter questions pouring in during the Larry King coverage last night was straight out of an SNL skit about stupid people. For example: “Are swine flu and the recent drug violence in Mexico related?” YES YOU STUPID TWITTER USER. SEE, BECAUSE THE MEXICANS DID DRUGS AND SOLD THEM AND THEN KIDNAPPED SOME PEOPLE AND KILLED SOME COPS, THE GOOD BABY JESUS PUNISHED THEM WITH A DISEASE THAT HAS A NAME BASED ON A PIG. A FUCKING PIG. BUT IT’S NOT EVEN PIG FLU. IT’S SWINE FLU.

I’d also like to throw it out there that if I start showing ANY SYMPTOMS that I would be more than happy to voluntarily quarantine myself.

So Linda went to bed about halfway through the Swine Flu coverage, leaving the rest of us to ponder our futures. Annie wants to just be really prepared, so last night she discussed getting more water, maybe some masks, that sort of thing (this plan for preventative measures fits nicely with my fear-of-Earthquakes issue). And DiTonto got really freaked out but then decided things would be happier if she went back to researching the Jeep Wrangler Rubicon online (please note she’s already nicknamed the car Ruby) whereas I was suddenly feeling inspired to watch THE ANDROMEDA STRAIN. I really wanted to watch Outbreak or read some book about pandemics but I had a screener of the A&E miniseries that I stole from my boss at my last job (I have a great work ethic!) and never watched and thought, why not! Turns out this miniseries has a little bit more bioterrorism and conspiracy theorizing than I would prefer (MORE SCIENCE! LESS PARANOIA!) but it scratched the itch.

But then, right before I went to bed I had an overwhelming urge to text my Dad and tell him I love him because this Swine Flu business is kind of freaking me out, I will admit. He responded early this morning, with a text message that said “Just don’t go to Mexico. Xoxo.”

See? Everyone is shitting on Mexico right now.

While the rest of the country was shoveling...

...and I was frying, this is what Malibu looked like on Sunday:



Yep, heaven.

Also: yes, that is my hat. It is awesome. You are probably jealous. I wear it all the time.

The story behind the hat (because yes, those gauche trucker caps are so passe) is that I bought it when driving cross country and we were camping in Utah visiting Arches National Park for a few days.

There's another story there that involves sleeping in a car and a tent being ripped to shreds and running out of gas and hitchiking with a nice couple named Jan and Gary (in their RV), but I'll have to save that for a longer conversation in which I talk about my not-so-secret love for hitchiking. Among other things. Anyway, the deal with the hat was that you got to pick a blank hat (I obviously bee-lined for neon green) and then the iron-on stamp (yes this was 2008, not 1992, but whatever); and I picked that beautiful Moab print. Best $10 I ever spent. Well maybe not the best, but high-ranking, certainly.

That Time I Was Ruined by a Sailboat

Growing up in Maine I spent a lot of time on sailboats. My family has always owned one, even now. When I was little we had an ensign, and we occasionally chartered a larger boat for family vacations. My dad is an experienced sailor, having done a transatlantic voyage, and in fact it was when he was a sailing instructor in the Bahamas where he met my mother, also of the nautically inclined.

I grew up spending a lot of time on boats and have always loved them and felt comfortable on them--yes, you could say I have my sea legs.

Or so I thought.

Sunday a bunch of us joined our other friend who lives out here on a boat. It's a beautiful 50 foot Jenneau and I've been out with him a few times before, always for a pleasant sail--really a great way to spend a leisurely afternoon.

We'd been planning on this sail for quite some time, and despite the somewhat dreary weather, we headed to the Marina on Sunday prepared for a lovely time in the sun, enjoying a nice cruise in the harbor.

What we didn't think of was that the high winds made for choppy seas (yeah, so when I said I grew up on boats I never said anything about being some sort of nautical genius) and by choppy seas I really mean HUGE swells. I love heeling (for those who aren't nautically inclined, that's essentially when the boat is tilting one way or the other due to wind pressure on the sails) and the boat was practically at a 45 degree angle which makes it really fun when you are sitting on the side that's up. Less fun for my friend who decided that sitting in the bow was a smart idea, because he ended up with a lot of water in his face. More entertaining for those of us watching, however.

So there we were, having a bit of a roller coaster ride in the uneven waves when we came about after maybe a half hour. This changed everything. All of a sudden we were traveling in a different motion with the waves and my tendency for motion sickness kicked in. Poor Annie had already been ill--she was the first one down and out--and was greener than you could imagine (or as we all noted, the palest we'd ever seen, because she's normally quite tan) and then I just knew it--I knew I was going to blow.

Did I mention we'd stopped at McDonald's before the trip? I had french fries. Huge mistake.

I am a pro at vomiting due to motion sickness. Strange, but true. I've been doing it my whole life. Once we were flying from Maine to Colorado and I threw up six times on the flight. I've thrown up on planes, trains, cars, ferries, and even once came close to getting ill on an elevator (don't ask), but I have never vomited due to sailing. I have also never missed a bag. Yep, I am so comfortable vomiting that I am not one of those people who makes a bee line for the airplane lavatory to vom--I just go straight for the motion sickness bag. No regard for my neighbors, but when you are sick you are sick--and I make the bag every time. I'm batting a thousand here, folks.

So here we are, on a boat with about 9 of us and I very calmly warned everyone my vomiting was imminent, and then I just went for it. At least Annie was nice enough to lean over the stern--I knew that wouldn't work and just vommed away into a transparent plastic bag. Disgusting. I felt great afterward--but that immediate relief was definitely temporary and I knew from experience that for however long the remainder of the sail would be, I was most likely going to get sick every half hour, regardless of the contents of my stomach (sure enough, Vom #2 followed suit). Fortunately, our generous captain took pity on us and we made way back to the marina. It wasn't until we were safely back in the slip that I was in the clear. There wouldn't be a number three. Bless our souls.

We stumbled onto the dock, our stomachs in shambles--all of us exhausted; like we'd survived a war zone or something. My body felt wrecked--we all were pretty wiped. Sure, we rallied for Chinese food later that night, but falling asleep last night was quite difficult, memories of disgusting vomiting and rocky seas preventing any rest. All in all--it was one of those "you had to be there" days, and I will say, despite (or in spite of?) the vomiting, it was sufficiently entertaining.

I have a feeling I won't be eating at McDonald's again anytime soon. Probably a good thing.

January Recap: Good for the times, Bad for the health/wallet

So it's February. And I am getting a late start on that universal New Year resolution to eat healthier/exercise more/blah blah blah.

January was quite the epic bender of a month. Which sure, was fun--I mean it warranted weddings, $40 winnings at the race track (Saturday), some great photos, some memories (or lack thereof), some new adventures... but as I spend yet another Monday sporting a fierce beer tan and fighting off the occasional spins, I have to GET REAL with myself.

SELF: Get real. Sure day drinking is fun and awesome and who doesn't love a cool beverage on a casual Saturday afternoon but that does not mean that tequila shots at 1:30 pm on a Sunday are okay, even if the Superbowl is on.

Actually, whatever--I'm 25. Who cares. Yeah, I took a party bus Saturday night to some crazy bar that felt like one of the basements of an off-campus house in Middbleury. And I did spend most of Saturday at the race tracks. And yesterday I hosted a Superbowl party with the roommates, and sure, maybe I didn't eat one real meal yesterday except a whole lot of beer dip and some Swedish meatballs. All worth it.

But from here on out I'm going to cool it a little... no more day drinking and no more Sunday Fundays. The roomies and I are also considering some sort of juice cleanse or something... really anything to avoid the sensation of walking to the office on a Monday morning and feeling the need to keep sunglasses on, even at my desk, because maybe they're also invisibility shades...

Ode to Mickey Fine

For those of you who don't reside in the LA area, let me tell you about a lovely place called Mickey Fine. Mickey Fine is a "pharmacy" or "drug store." I like to think of it as a place where dreams come true.

Earlier today I was craving some sort of delicious cheese item so I popped downstairs to Mickey Fine. Unfortuantely their best offer was Hot & Spicy Cheez-Its but that was okay because just a walk into the neighboring building and I was at the mothership of Mickey Fines, where I had a vast selection of cheese items to choose from.

But when you stop into a Mickey Fine you can't just buy one thing. Certainly not. I mean there are just so many things to explore!

For example, today's outing produced the following items:

1 package of Cheddar Goldfish
1 can Canada Dry Ginger Ale
1 packet pistachios
1 can Santa Cruz Organic Lemonade
1 bottle Perrier
2 Andes mints
1 Lindt Truffle

(I know what you are thinking and yes, due to so many liquids it is likely I will have to pee every twenty minutes).

Just the other day I bought deodorant and hot tamales.

And one day I bought a hair clip.

And another day I bought Zicam, Burt's Bees Honey Chapstick, and a bottle of Smart Water.

Also available are magazines, note cards, office supplies, stuffed animals of various sizes and species, hair accessories, sandwhiches, diet drinks, gum, postage stamps, etc.

Okay I had a lot more I wanted to say about Mickey Fine but I have to go pee already.

The Circle of Life - or in this case, Planet Earth

Sunday began with Planet Earth and ended with Planet Earth. I am of course referring to my favorite BBC/Discovery television program that I watch compulsively when I have nothing better to do, but let me back track for a moment.

It was another magical LA weekend. More magical than most, thanks again to perfect weather conditions--I mean, I even went swimming in the ocean on Saturday. Yes, on January 17 I went swimming. It was lovely. There are a few noteworthy moments to recap but I need to really focus this piece on what I might consider the most epic of Sunday Fundays I've ever known.

Sunday morning we ladies of 225 Montana woke up a wee bit hungover, and gravitated to our living room to watch my favorite episode of Planet Earth, "Fresh Water". (GIANT SALAMANDERS!) While watching all the fishies and interesting water creatures it hit me--I want to go to the AQUARIUM! But first, does LA even have an aquarium? WELL FOLKS, it does. The Aquarium of the Pacific is located just south of LA, in Long Beach. All we needed were some willing companions to join our fish tale.

In the end, it was DiTonto, Adam, and myself headed south listening to the road trip-ready tunes of Manu Chao, arriving in the very Disney-like Long Beach harbor sometime around 2 pm. We just missed a Whale Watching tour, which was a bummer because who doesn't love whales or the prospect of WATCHING them IN REAL LIFE. And it was in the 80s outside, so we thought a boat ride would be a lovely way to spend the afternoon before we logged some hours with some fishies. But we figured it just wasn't meant to be and seeing as the aquarium was the main attraction, let's get on with it.

Fun fact: They serve beer in aquariums. (I bet you can guess how this day ended up).

The aquarium was AWESOME. First of all, as I have mentioned before, I love aquariums--truly, I do. If a guy were ever to propose to me, I think an aquarium would be a lovely place to do so. (So just tell my future-fiance to read this before proposing marriage). This aquarium had some lovely features, like the tanks where you could touch sharks and skates and sting rays, but to do so there was a strict TWO-FINGER rule, which conveniently provided us a lot of inappropriate opportunities for many "that's what she said" jokes. Obviously, we're not very child-friendly. I think a few parents were shooting us dirty looks, what with the beer and the swearing and the juvenile behavior.



Another highlight of the aquarium (AND I BET YOU THOUGHT IT COULDN'T GET ANY BETTER!) was the 3D movie MONSTERS OF THE ABYSS where upon we journeyed to the deep unknown trenches of the ocean to observe some very unusual fishies (HEY DID YOU SEE THAT GIANT SQUID!). I was a little disappointed we only bought one 3D movie pass and not the combo ticket but WHAT CAN YOU DO.

We are total suckers because we bought two copies of a hilarious photo of us entering the aquarium, one in which they (they = aquarium people) digitally inserted FISHIES! As in we are HOLDING THEM! I am jealous of DiTonto though because she's holding a Nemo-lookalike and I am just holding onto some crappy starfish (side note: when I sea kayaked the coast of Maine one summer I put a giant starfish onto my face because I wanted to prove to everyone I was both hilarious AND a daredevil, so a fake starfish is SMALL POTATOES for me). Adam was pleased because he was holding a turtle and we had all discussed earlier in the day that we think turtles would make lovely pets and I would like to get two and name them Manu and Chao or maybe just one and call him Consuelo.

ANYWAY we had BIG PLANS to end the evening at THE OLIVE GARDEN (classy!) but as we were aimlessly wandering around the harbor an odd looking young lad in a giant sombrero approached us and asked if we'd like to join him and his friends on a sunset cruise?

WOULD WE? WE SURE WOULD!

About five minutes later this young lad, Sailor Taylor, had fallen in love with DiTonto and was calling her his future ex-wife. All aboard Captain John's boat, and fortunately they'd recruited some other normal women so in all there was the three of us, the two other ladies, Captain John, Sailor Taylor, Darryl, some dude wearing an NRA hat (he loved freedom but was SCARY) and George, a Native American dude who was on something, but had a biting sense of humor.

We left the harbor as the sun had already gone down so it turned into more of a nighttime cruise. By nighttime cruise I mean drunken boat party that was probably dangerous. BUT AMAZING. Disco ball, tiki torches, Christmas lights, and great jams.

And what do you know, but much like a minister or any Justice of the Peace, both Sailor Taylor and Captain John, being legal boat captains, can marry people. Well as we were dancing to Manu Chao (because I obv took over as DJ) we decided how perfect! DiTonto and Sailor Taylor (who may or may not actually be her soulmate) should get married. And then Captain John, with two bottles of booze tucked into his swim trunks, and a sword in his hand (I was confused if it was a wedding or if someone was being knighted) and the wedding party consisting of Adam and I as maids of honor and the two other chicks as bridesmaids, and to the sweet tunes of the Talking Heads, watched as Ashleigh and Taylor were married.

Adam and I were concerned. Mostly for our safety, especially because at one point no one was steering the boat, and we wondered and if we were going to make it back to the harbor, but also because was this a real wedding? Well she didn't sign anything so the answer is NO... we think....

Anyway, then Taylor married Captain John and one of the other chicks and then it was happiness and jubilee, a quick sail-by of the Queen Mary, some photos on the bow, some waves, the NRA dude passed out, we switched to reggae, and then we were back in the marina.

THEN, I went for a nice kayak around the marina with Captain John and the other chicks and returned about a half hour later to learn that not only had Adam and DiTonto been given a tour of one of Darryl's big pimpin' boats, but that Taylor had invited her to dinner with his parents, aunt and uncle and grandparents.

No, none of this is a lie or exaggeration, I PROMISE.

Why the family gathering? Well, Taylor had turned 25 the night before and it was pre-planned, but now the lucky guy got to introduce his family to his new wife.

So Adam and I went for dinner (dinner = drinks) at a different restaurant and then met up with the newlyweds for... THE RECEPTION! At a karaoke bar. And I, former DJ, now wedding singer, serenaded them with some classics like "La Isla Bonita" by Madonna, as well as Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young."

And then, after we realized this karaoke bar was also some sort of mafia hang out and we were way in over our heads, we slipped away (but not before Taylor's mom, DiTonto's mother-in-law, invited both she and I for Christmas!) and Adam safely drove us back to Santa Monica, with a quick stop at one of our favorite bars in Venice, then back home, where we decided to end our day with...

Planet Earth. "Shallow Seas"--another good episode.

Weekend Recap

So I realize this lovely Monday has been lacking in my regular weekend recap. That’s probably because my brain is feeling a little fried at the moment and I am actually trying to be productive with real work today.

But, here are a few weekend highlights (for the ten people as interested in my own life as I am):

After a lovely Friday evening I woke up Saturday morning with a real feeling of glee. Like cheesy musical glee. So much so, that I decided to update my Facebook status and actually use Twitter (ugh I am becoming all that I mock) to tell the world I AM SO HAPPY.

My happiness was fleeting however, when I had to drive to Hollywood for my improv class. WHAT’S THAT? Yes, you heard me—I’m taking an improv classes. I know you’re totally (not) shocked, and what is perhaps most surprising is that is that this is the first blog mention of such a hilarious weekly event, and I don’t have a good explanation as to why I’ve neglected to mention it in the past... It’s fun though—essentially I joined because the last class I took was in the spring, a writing class at UCLA, so I was looking for something in a completely different vein, and I thought improv could help my comedic writing... (has it helped? HAS ANYONE NOTICED ANY IMPROVEMENT OVER THE LAST 7 WEEKS? No? Me neither). It’s turned out to be a fun release on Saturday mornings, and I’ve realized that Family Guy operates entirely on an improv format. Which is awesome. Whether or not I will stick with it is something I am undecided about at present. I’m actually thinking of switching gears again, and trying a different writing class—maybe something with screenwriting so I can make a movie, (also to be called Jaw Wired Shut?) or at least pretend to. The major downfall of the improv class would have to be the drive to and from Hollywood every Saturday morning, in which a three hour class becomes a five hour event.

What else... Saturday night turned into quite the bender, complete with a 4am bedtime. This resulted in a miserable Sunday, of course. Sunday was supposed to be a “Very Roomie Christmas” in which Hotel Triple A (get it? Annie, Annie & Ashleigh? We’re so presh) was going to spend the day listening to Christmas carols and bake pies and go ice skating and watch Christmas movies. Well... all three of us slept until around 1pm, woke up with raging hangovers, and spent the day on our sofas, while various friends cycled through the apartment to witness our sorry state at different points of pain (and to watch various movies, only one of them being Christmas-themed). I stayed in pajamas all day, only saw daylight for three hours (and out the window, might I add) and the highlight might have been when walking back to our apartment from a poorly thought-out trip to Pinkberry (dairy was a bad idea), Annie had to pause while walking, to bend over in pain, declaring that her body was fighting back. “Viva la revolucion!” she yelled (she was impersonating her organs, envisioning all of them rallied around the liver, who was probably on a stretcher or hooked up to an IV, and all the other internals were standing with signs and picketing her abuse—you know if our life was an episode of Family Guy, we probably would have seen that).

Monday morning training sessions are BRUTAL, and a terrible idea after a weekend of bad decision-making. And while the new trainer is AWESOME he loves to kick my ass and tries to tell me I need to stop drinking (to be honest, and I think my friends would agree, I don’t really drink a whole lot, certainly not for someone my age, I think I just get hungover a little easier, and when I do really drink it’s a complete disaster) and anyway who is going to NOT drink during the holidays? PUHLEEZE.

And yet another weekend has passed, another week begins, and soon (not soon enough) I’ll be on a plane to New York, which I really cannot wait for. I am looking forward to cold weather and a city that outshines any other with its Christmas spirit.

Until then I won’t be doing much of anything because we don’t get paid until Monday. You know what that means... soup all week.

Finally, what you've all been waiting for!

Well folks, I know I've been somewhat ambiguously referencing my trip to Pahrump to Nevada, and now I am going to shed a little light on that journey. Not a lot of light, because we were asked by those above us specifically not to blog about the experience (hah, me not blog? Right).

Anyway, I went to Pahrump after work Friday night with my friend Alexander, the intention of our purpose was to volunteer with the Barack Obama Campaign for Change (I think we aren't supposed to blog about it because they don't want to draw attention to the fact that Californians are headed to Nevada to volunteer, however, isn't this A common knowledge? and B entirely not surprising? When you are an Obama supporter in a blue state it's only natural that a real volunteer opportunity might only be found in the swing state next door).

Pahrump is located just on the border of California and Nevada, surrounded by the mountains and desert that comprise Death Valley. It's a desert town just an hour northwest of Las Vegas--not desert town in the sense that Shoshone "the gateway to Death Valley" is, with a grand population of 67 people, because in fact, Pahrump is anywhere from 30,000 to 40,000 people.

It was a long drive Friday night, and for the last hour and a half or so, the only thing that really kept me driving was listening to The Audacity of Hope book on tape, read by Senator Obama himself. Sure, this paints an incredible hilarious picture--two idealistic kids from California driving to Nevada to canvas for a presidential campaign, listening to that inspiring leader all the way there... but you know what? It totally worked. Not only did it help me stay awake on those desert roads, but it was both inspiring and informative. Also good to keep me level because I felt like I was driving through Mars. And at one point I saw a dog in the middle of the road in the middle of NOWHERE, which really means I saw either (1) a coyote or (2) my animal spirit god (I am hoping it was choice 2, because an animal spirit god is a much rarer find then one of those darn coyotes).

That night we stayed at one of the Casino-Hotel-RV-"Resorts" in town, which was really just an over-priced place to crash, and were up early Saturday morning to discover that Pahrump, not a very exciting place on its own, was surrounded by the most beautiful and dramatic mountains all around. It was truly spectacular. While admiring the view, we had a more difficult time admiring any breakfast opportunities, with our final stop being the one Starbucks in town, located inside the grocery store.

The campaign headquarters were a modest affair, all the other volunteers, both locals and others who had traveled various differences, were kind people from all walks of life. It was heartening and encouraging to be around so many others who also shared such a strong belief in one cause.

Canvassing is an interesting experience. It sort of requires a no-fear attitude. I mean you are knocking on doors, interrupting people at their homes. By the end of the day (a total of two canvassing shifts) we had knocked on 77 doors and spoken to something like 45 people. It was fascinating. Just about everyone was friendly, even McCain supporters, and some people really wanted to engage with us, while others expressed frustration at yet another campaign volunteer showing up on their doorstep. I realized it must be exhausting to live in a swing state right now. You are constantly being inundated with information, people, propaganda, etc. However, must of the people of Pahrump were polite and courteous and we appreciated that.

For lunch we ate delicious barbecue at Walter's BBQ & Maverick's Saloon (ahh yes, MAVERICKS!) and at one point we also stopped to get a drink of water and a coke (or as our feisty bartender called it, pop) and a separate BBQ joint. It was fun talking to our bartender, a woman who I could only describe as being full of piss and vinegar, a McCain Palin lover because she was sick of men running the country and thought "Palin was so fun" and she wanted to see a woman in power. She pointedly asked me how I felt about men running the country, and to be honest, as a woman, I am okay with it--for me it boils down to the individual. Obama is someone who could cross party lines, reach out to people everywhere, and maybe dial down some of the polarization that has overcome the country.

The most bizarre experience of the whole day was when at one house we stopped by, the very old woman who lived there asked us to please come inside where we realized we might get stuck for hours because she was so excited to show someone all her stuffed animal birds, paintings of Jesus, lampshades, flower arrangements, and countless other tchatchkies (does anyone know how to spell this? Please advise). She was simultaneously crazy, sad, and the most other-worldly being I've ever met. It was really something.

We drove home Saturday night, but not without somehow managing to encounter car trouble. We pulled over in the road leading out of Death Valley (aka Mars, home of my spirit animal god) so Alexander could take a leak and we could check out the desert at night--which is incredible and I am not sure I've ever seen so many stars in the sky. Of course, we managed to get my car completely buried in the sand, so much so that the front end was so buried in we couldn't move anywhere and Triple A had to come dig us out. Ah, adventure.

We got back to LA, finally, and after the requisite late night In-N-Out stop, around 1:30 am. I was exhausted. But it was worth it, if not to canvas for Obama, but just to go to a different part of the country, to step outside the LA bubble, and the bubble I've become accustomed to, and to talk to people and get to know a community somewhere else. It was both rewarding and insightful.

Here's hoping that on election day, those 5 electoral votes from Nevada will go blue. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, Pahrump!

One final note, apparently we were only about a half hour from Area 51 and Roswell. Shit yes, next time I am going hunting for aliens. Maybe that's what my spirit god was--AN ALIEN. No but really, I thought that crazy late night desert drive was a secret transport to another planet or something. It was extraterrestrial, that's for sure.

And now for something completely different

Okay folks, time to lighten the mood a little bit before I turn this blog into all-politics all the time. Because if you haven’t guessed it by now, the reason I am going to Pahrump, Nevada this weekend is because I am volunteering with the Obama Campaign to canvas undecided voters. I am sure I’ll return with many interesting stories.

Until then, let’s switch gears to some lighter topics. Here are some things I would be happy to discuss:

(1) My fantastic new hot pink skinny leg corduroys from J. Crew that I am wearing right now. So fierce.
(2) Today is my last day to chew gum for a while because as of tomorrow morning I am wearing an Invisalign lower retainer ALL THE TIME for about the next 8 weeks. Like I said, I shall forever be plagued by orthodontia.
(3) I have the attention span of a 12-year-old.
(4) I refuse to put the license plates on my new car in hopes I will never be caught driving through yellow lights that just change to red.
(5) Friday Night Lights has ruined all other television for me because it is so far superior.
(6) Have you heard? The bird is the word.
(7) In a related note, I am sick of not enough of my friends/co-workers/people I bump into not picking up on my hilarious Family Guy references.
(8) My ability to go to the Farmer’s Market and spend no more than two dollars thanks to my finely-tuned skills at tasting and sampling but NEVER BUYING.
(9) Today my orthodontist asked me if I was a student and I love that I still appear to be a lil’ young’un.
(10) I love my job.
(11) I am so over the mid-90 temperatures in LA. Last night I spent a few minutes walking around my room in my favorite fall coat.
(12) This is where I will be staying Friday night: www.saddlewest.com. Saturday night? We're winging it. Translation: a night at a motel in Vegas, a night in Vegas sans motel, a sand dune in Death Valley, or my car. Or we'll just drive through the night back to LA. WHO KNOWS. I am just bristling with excitement.