Oscars Schmoscars! This Charlie Sheen-Mel Gibson-Christian Bale Mega Rant is Better Than Anything Franco Was Smoking Last Night

Oscars Schmoscars. AMIRIGHT? I mean, Charlie Sheen is way more exciting to talk about this fine Monday morning. (Although, new to my bucket list, just after "smoke pot with Snoop Dogg" I have added "smoke pot with James Franco" - bro appeared to be high as a kite during the show. For that matter, it seemed like everyone was on drugs at the Academy Awards. As long as this doesn't escalate to a city full of Charlie Sheens, rock on Hollywood, rock on).


Christian Bale, who, to this day, I like to think of singing about Santa Fe with a kerchief round his neck in Newsies, won an Oscar last night. Immediately afterward everyone in my living room  started screaming "GOOD FOR YOUUUU." See? Twitter evidence:

tweet

But more exciting than my own self-congratulations at an easy joke would be this superb mega rant featuring the angry screams not only of Oscar winner Christian Bale, but of Oscar winner Mel Gibson, and HOPEFULLY NEVER AN OSCAR WINNER Charlie Sheen (very NSFW btw):

Thanks to the brilliant Editors/Clip-makers at FilmDrunk for this gem. The best part is definitely Christian Bale's crazy "La da da da da da" on repeat with the Nick Nolte (or is that Gary Busey? I honestly can't tell the two apart at this point) and Alec Baldwin soundbites.

Gettin Slizzerrred

Hi there. In case you ever wanted to know what I look like when I'm really, really drunk, I think this baby does a good job of setting up the scene:

This is what happens when you drink Four Loko

Get it? You drink Four Loko and you feel like you survived a plane crash only to end up stranded on a mysterious island with polar bears and whispers and eventually a temple and a Samurai dude and it's all a huge mindfuck because you never get the answers and then you flash forward back sideways and it's really amazing but also a massive headache.

Thanks to the nerds at Gizmodo for the Four Loko liveblog.

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.

Excuse me while I curl up into fetal position and cry for a while

So this is the first summer in probably the past five or six years that I won't be celebrating the 4th of July with my extended family (on the Stamell side) on Martha's Vineyard.

See for most people, the 4th signifies excessive drinking and AMERICA but for me it's more of a low key affair--good food, nice dinner with my dad & step-mom, then driving to Edgartown in time to either miss the fireworks and watch them in the pouring rain.

So forgive me if I am not jumping with joy to be celebrating the 4th this year here in LA. LA doesn't scream FREEDOM and AMERICA'S BIRTHDAY to me, not like the quaint New England settings I am used to.

But, I shall try to make the most of it. Rather than mope around the house homesick I've got a very patriotic bathing suit to wear (it just screams "I love freedom!") and plan on getting some R & R. And in addition to celebrating America's birthday, it's my official half-birthday as well. Which is normally awesome but this year sucks. Being 25 is cool. 25 and a half? Less cool. Because it's halfway to 26 and I think that anything after 25 is upsetting. But talk to me about this again when I am 30 and we'll see if I feel differently.

One of those days...

Ever have one of those moments where you just sort of think how everything is going to shit? But then it's someone's birthday at your office and you get to have three glasses of champagne before 4pm and all your worries melt away and it's ALL GOOD.

Also, sorry for craptastic posting this month. I'm in a funk? Need a muse? Motivation? Inspiration? who knows...

School Spirit

Just four years ago I was spending an epic St. Patrick's Day in Dublin, dressed in green complete with face paint, an Irish Rugby shirt and a headband with shamrocks, watching a bizarre celebratory parade, drinking copious amounts of Guinness, getting intoxicated in public (and by 1pm in the afternoon)--all that fun stuff. And here I am, 4 years later and the closest thing to green I'm wearing today is a large turquoise necklace. And did I mention I am wearing a hot pink skirt?

Truth be told, I completely forgot it was St. Patty's today--I wouldn't say LA isn't the most "spirited" of cities, and certainly doesn't seem to have the same rambunctious Irish-American population as a city like Boston does (I imagine a few my friends there are already drunk, and rightly so). It appears to be just another day like any other in this city.

I'm a little sad I forgot to show some Irish pride today (although I am pretty sure I am all British/Scottish on one half--no Irish) especially because I pride myself in my spirit. Yes, I was deemed one half of Most School Spirit, Falmouth High School Class of '02 (my good friend Nate being the other half, the yearbook photo featuring me sitting on his shoulders with one of those giant foam thumbs on my hand--in retrospect we probably both won that accolade because we were equally obnoxious at soccer games and the like). I like to think I still bring that spirit with me still--and it applies to holidays or other occasions. But here I am today--feeling apathetic and likely to not go out tonight (what, I've got a 6:30am pilates session tomorrow?). Does this mean I am getting older? Or have I become jaded and am one of the many who now accept apathy as a necessary crutch to coping? God, that's depressing. I'm going to go with my original theory--I simply forgot.

So, Happy St. Patrick's Day--whether you're wearing green or not.

Worth Noting

1.) Per last night's terrible dream I've spent some time googling Earthquake Phobia this morning (also known as Seismophobia). In addition to that nightmare, I keep having sensations where I feel rumblings and I am convinced we're about to have a big quake. The dream was super realistic though--very scary. Took a strange turn with the looters/vampires.

Oh wait a minute. I watched an episode of Buffy last night in which there was an earthquake. Well that explains the vampires and the dream... and my general phobia contributed I am sure.

2.) I am channeling my inner hipster today with a flea market men's plaid shirt that I've belted with a thin braided gold belt, skinny gray corduroys and gold ballet flats. Normally when I wear this shirt sans belt I just look like a boy, so I'm hoping the gold flare ads a feminine touch. Undetermined thus far.

3.) I have the thinnest traces of a hangover this morning due to drinks last night with co-workers, followed by trivia with friends (we came in 3rd after most incredible comeback). The downside of all this (besides slight headache) is that it felt like a Friday when I woke up. Sadly, it's not.

4.) Twitter addiction continues. And I designed my own layout. It's a little too me-centric but I wasn't really sure on Twitter etiquette when it comes to design.

5.) Anyone catch Jindal's rebuttal last night? Or has anyone not seen the amazing internet lampooning he's receiving this morning? Loving the Kenneth the Page comparisons...

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...

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.

Sequins Everywhere

Ashleigh and I both turned 25 over the holidays, and to make up for missing birthday celebrations we threw a joint party Saturday night at a lovely dive bar in our neighborhood. The party theme was FLARE (which was open to interpretation—we suggested mustaches, sequins, the suspenders of a TGIFridays waitress), and was really just an excuse for us to wear some hideous sequined tops we recently picked up at the Fairfax Flea Market. In the end, a group of about 6 of us looked like we’d just walked off the set of our Las Vegas revue, or maybe we were the supporting cast of Dynasty. It was incredible. This also translated to a trail of sequins where ever we went, to our friends’ cars, the bar itself, our apartment, and even this morning, two days later, I again found sequins in my bed. It’s awesome.

Ultimately, not everyone got the flare memo, but at peak time we maybe had about 50 people there which was so fun. Bonus was being able to play our on iPods which meant Ditonto and I fought over songs all night. A highlight was a little roommate dance where the three of us just hugged each other and jumped up and down and a nearby bystander remarked “Wow, they really love each other don’t they?” Best roommates ever. Thank God too, because our fratastic apartment became even more so with some competitive video game playing during the hung over hours of Sunday morning, when I also forced friends to watch me play Paper Mario, at which point I sufficiently embarrassed myself.

It was freakishly warm this weekend—which led to general confusion over what time of year it is. I kept making references to how happy I was it was summer and let’s all go in on a beach rental together. Oh yeah, it’s JANUARY. Which was clear when we were in Malibu enjoying the beautiful day and the sun started to set around 4:30 pm. Nothing like a sunset dinner at Taco Bell to really cap off the perfect LA weekend.

So even though I remain nostalgic for the east coast, at the moment, I am perfectly enamored with LA, and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Why Tuesday is my Monday

Ugh.

That is how I feel right now. Not well. Not well at all... Mondays are rough because I am already suffering a hangover (metaphorically speaking, usually) from what is always a jam-packed weekend. Well add an actual hangover to that and Monday is MISERABLE.

Exhibit A.
Earlier without realizing it I yawned in a way that was so desperate/pathetic that everyone sitting nearby just started laughing at me. Apparently I was also moaning in anguish.

Exhibit B.
Just a moment ago I was opening my Kombucha (it's a DELISH Chinese beverage that is good for you and stuff) and it exploded all over myself and my desk. Dude who sits next to me looked at me and said, "Just go home. Start over again tomorrow."

Ah if only it were that easy... thank goodness tomorrow is a fresh start though, and I will be looking and feeling quite the opposite of my blah existence today.

And now for other news related to women and drinking

What perfect timing for this article from NY Mag, detailing how more women are drinking and they're drinking even more.