Someday I'll laugh. Right?

Well it's that time of year again. The time when I am figuring out how much I'm spending on my Coachella weekend as I make my final preparations. The time when I am buying tickets to bridal showers and bachelorette parties for multiple brides-to-be. The time when I spend around $500 on tickets to return to my dear Alma mater where I'll be spending a weekend attempting to recreate college aka drink a lot of beer. The time when I realize I'm just digging my hole into Debtsville deeper and deeper. But it can't always be this way... right? Like someday I'll look back on my freakouts over spending money I don't have and just laugh... right? DEAR GOD THAT BETTER BE RIGHT.


On a related note - now accepting any and all suggestions for how to not spend any money in the next three days. Also accepting money for sexual favors! JUST KIDDING! BUT ALMOST NOT!

Also - you can tag this post WHITE PEOPLE PROBLEMS because I have NO business complaining. None. First of all, I do this to myself. Secondly, this is ridiculous. Thirdly, I am going to Coachella and to Middlebury - like I am spending money on FUN THINGS I WANT TO DO. So like, I'm an asshole.

Lunch

What am I having for lunch today?

You guessed it: soup.

Oh but this isn’t just any old soup, nope, today it’s Cup O’ Noodles.

Thank you, economy!

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.

A Study in Poor-ness (or something)

So I haven't eaten a meal out all week. Not one breakfast, one lunch or one dinner. None. I am so pleased of myself. Not only does this take serious effort, but I've actually been cooking dinners for myself rather than not eat. (By cook I mean microwave some fake chicken nuggest and steam some asparagus in a pan for a few minutes. That's all I got).

But then today, today I cracked. At the start of the lunch hour, I spent several minutes staring at the various Lean Cuisines and fake chicken products in the freezer and everything looked so miserable I decided I was going to do it. I was going to EAT OUT and I was going to get some soup. Because if there's one thing I can splurge on it's soup. A cup of soup. Not a bowl (too expensive.)

So I walked across the courtyard behind my office building to this lovely little organic soup place. After spending what seemed like an eternity deliberating over WHAT SOUP (I mean this is my one meal out all week so I want to make it a good one) I ordered Basil Chicken Chili. The lady at the cash register asked,

"Would you like crackers or a roll with that?"

I looked at her suspiciously. Was she attemping to get some more money out of me? Can't she just smell I am an assistant from that well-known odor of "over-achieving desperate fool?"

I responded, "does it comes with cracker or a roll?"

"Yes." She said this almost as though I had to be the dumbest or saddest person around.

With relief I ordered a roll. What a bargain, soup AND a roll!

The saddest thing is, if she had told me it was extra for the crackers/roll, even just 50 cents extra--I wouldn't have gotten any. I am seriously that cheap. The end.

P.S. I got back to my desk and found this email from my roomie waiting for me:

omg i tooooooooootally forgot to tell you about the radio commercial that had me dyyying and thinking of you.

it's this guy talking to his friend about how he's all, "hey you know how i'm so broke i don't go out for dinner, get drinks, or go to the movies. and i only eat rice, pasta, and dry toast" and his friend is like, "yeeeeah" and he goes, well i figured out how to make a lil more money so my girlfriend doesn't have to cover my dinner so often. the friend is like, o yeah, how?

selling phone books !!! baaah ahahah

i can't even imagine. times be tough when you're selling phone books. he says all you need is a car with insurance. and then the friend makes a joke about how he can't believe he can afford insurance and asks if now that he's making extra money if his saint of a girlfriend won't have to pay for him so much.

it's the longest, most absurd ad EVER. i hope you get to hear it some day.

Thanks DiTonto. See, what my dear roommate knows is that taking up some other source of income has definitely crossed my mind. Thing is, I am lazy. So it's just my measly assistant paycheck for now... some day I will fondly recall this time in my life when soup was a luxury. And then I will shudder in disgust and have the butler fetch me another Bloody Mary. And make it spicy.

YES Free Meals

My dad's in town this weekend and the consecutive stream of free meals that consist of real food (aka not Lean Cuisine, eggs, or soup) has ALREADY begun with a lovely lunch today. It reminds me of college when it was parents weekend and you ate out for every meal and everywhere you could possibly envision as phenemonally expensive (aka, costs more than the dining hall). Well, I like to think I am a freshman in the college of life (CHEESE ALERT) so I am going to continue to bank on parental meals. I mean, isn't it a parent's inherent DUTY to provide for their child? I like to think so. Even when they are almost 25, in the "real world" and have a job. Speaking of which, will you take me grocery shopping too?

Tales From My Trashcan

It looks like a bird vomited in my garbage can. Take a look:



My trashcan, which sits next to me, smells disgusting. I am getting constant wafts of the following scents:

1. Remainders of the Tomato Bisque soup I had for lunch (lower left)
2. A soy yogurt I started eating and quickly aborted when I noticed the expiration date of August 4th. 10 days ago (upper left).
3. The wilting lettuce leaf, tomato slice, and solitary hot pepper (sides from a grilled cheese, in large plastic container)
4. Sunflower seeds aka bird vomit. Not much of a smell actually (everywhere).

I am disgusting.

Maxillofacial Surgery: All your questions answered, at last!

I've got this nifty thing called a Stat Counter attached to my blog that tells me some very interesting details about the people reading.

The most interesting thing about reading my stats is that I can see what people search for that leads them to the blog. Not surprisingly, the majority of searches revolve around having your jaw wired shut, and because I appear to be misleading people with my blog's title and subsequent content, I think it's time I answer some of those queries. After all, I am speaking from experience. I had my jaw wired shut.

So let's address all your surgical inquiries!

1. "kissing with my jaw wired"
This will be difficult. During the surgery, many of the nerves in your lower face will be cut, and while the regeneration (regrowth?) time is relatively quick, it does take a while and require some physical therapy (although you may never regain full feeling -- I've got a little numb spot on my chin that I sometimes stroke as though it were a beard or something). Some exercises that speed along the recuperation process are to "pucker" and "smile" which is much more difficult than you might expect. Puckering is especially tough, hence the primary obstacle in any attempt to kiss. I would not recommend trying to kiss anyone if you have your jaw wired shut. Also, anyone you might want to kiss will probably be grossed out by the fact that your face is swollen to the point where you resemble a volleyball and your cheeks are bruised a weird yellow color.

2. "can you talk with your jaw wired shut"
Somewhat. The first few days, especially when I was still in the hospital, I wrote a lot of what I wanted to say in a little notepad. The doctors don't want you to do that, because the sooner you attempt to use your facial muscles the quicker your recovery. However when you are all hopped up on drugs and feel like there's a shard of glass going through your mouth one minute, and that you are floating on a cloud of angel wings the next, talking seems like the last thing in the world you'd want to do. Later on it gets easier to talk, although not everyone can understand you. My dad found it incredibly difficult to figure out what I was saying while some of my friends had no problem (they were already used to hearing me mumble when drunk).

3. "vegan food jaw wired shut"
I recommend against. Look, when you can't open your mouth for two months and are on a liquid diet (and I am talking liquid -- the first month I couldn't even have a Jamba Juice smoothie because it was too thick) with a restriction like being vegan limiting what you can eat on top of your already impaired food intake, getting all the calories and protein you need could prove to be way too difficult, and probably unhealthy. Then again, I did live off of finely strained vegetable soups and vegetable juices, as well as a few protein shakes a day -- I'd say vegetarian is doable, but not vegan. Also, you are going to experience some crazy cravings. One night near the end of the two month liquid diet all I wanted was cheese. The solution? A giant bowl of finely whipped cheesy mashed potatoes. Delicious. It was also during this time that I discovered my deep love for pizza. There was perhaps no other food item I desired more.

4. "wired jaw smoking"
Uh, no? Are people still smoking cigarettes? You can't even use a straw so good luck trying to get a cigarette in between those lips. I am pretty sure that smoking after major reconstructive facial surgery is a very bad idea. Unless you're smoking weed. I still think you're gonna have trouble smoking anything with your mouth all jacked up.

5. "sleeping jaws wired shut"
Yeah, this sucks too. You have to sleep with a few pillows so you can stay propped up... anything to make breathing easier and help decrease the swelling. Thanks to the drugs I slept really weird hours too. This meant a lot of 4 am Oprah viewings which is okay as it's the only time I seem to be able to tolerate Oprah.

6. "dog jaw wired shut"
Huh? Why would you have your dog's jaw wired shut? This makes no sense.

7. "jaw wired avoid panic"
Ahh yes, I recall the severe panic I underwent the last days leading up to my surgery. You'll be fine. It might one of the worst experiences of your life, but it gets better. It's character building! And they give you drugs. Lots of them. All of the drugs.

8. "jaw feels heavy pops shakiness"
Get that shit checked out.

9. "products for jaw wired shut"
Hmm. Morphine, codeine, oxycodone, vicodin... there were more I don't remember the grocery list. Oh and the classic Ibuprofen of course.  All in liquid form, taken with a syringe, so you feel extra sketchy about it. They taste nasty so I mixed everything with fruit juice. Although the morphine made me feel sick (which is odd, because I always had imagined I would have a wonderful relationship with opiates) so I only had that in the hospital via IV drip. The codeine was interesting. I built a weird sleep dependency on it so it caused crazy dreams and my arms would lose feeling in the middle of the night. Very, very strange. But some interesting products, sure. Lots of products.

10. "jaw wiring laguna"
That makes no sense. I suggest redefining your search terms.

Well, for all you "jaw wired shut" searchers, I hope this helps. It's been exactly a year and a half since my surgery, but in a way feels like decades ago. So nice to have that over with. The worst part of the whole thing might the braces. Because no one wants to relive the agony of their puberty years in their twenties. I did that for three years. Terrible. But character building.

Soup's On

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

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

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

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

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

THIS WHEAT GRASS TASTES DELICIOUS!

To quote from Oklahoma, "Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way!" (Okay so maybe I've never actually seen all of Oklahoma because the last time I attempted to watch was when I was in fifth grade with my mom and my best friend and both my mom and I feel asleep leaving my poor friend feeling really uncomfortable watching such a boring musical, but I digress...)

I am off the Cleanse, and oh my goodness gracious, I feel FANTASTIC. So fantastic that I plan to often capitalize words, to emphasize that when speaking these words I might be enthusiastically screaming them! Which brings me to my next point, WHEAT GRASS IS DELICIOUS.

I know, I know--you are thinking, once again, my goodness Stamos you've become so LA it's laughable... skateboards, cleanses, wheatgrass? Well let me say this: skateboarding is NOT as easy as it looks, the cleanse has NOTHING to do with living in Los Angeles, and WHEAT GRASS IS DELICIOUS and I will drink it whenever and wherever.

My first post-cleanse, non "lemonade" substance was a 2 oz. wheat grass shot from Jamba Juice. It was delightful, refreshing, EUPHORIC I might say! Even better was the FRESH SQUEEZED ORANGE JUICE that followed. DIVINE INSPIRATION! This foray into food took place yesterday afternoon, when I had decided the tongue was pink enough and I had reach Day 10. I proceeded to drink the "lemonade" for the rest of the day but then in a moment of effortless motivation I compiled a long shopping list and drove off to Whole Foods to stock up on delicious VEGETABLES and other FUN VEGAN FOODS for the week. Walking into Whole Foods was like walking into paradise. Parsley, thyme, tomatoes, onions, leeks, KALE! FAKE CHICKEN NUGGETS! SOY YOGURT! VEGETABLE JUICE! STEVEN WEBER!

Wait, what? Steven Weber? Of Wings, and most recently Brothers & Sisters? Yes, Steven Weber, Brian Hackett himself! Right there in the cereal aisle! And let me say, for a 47 year old man, he was ATTRACTIVE. (While this could be the post-cleanse euphoria talking, he really was a looker). Anyways, nothing better than a little celeb spotting to really top off the beautiful grocery shopping experience!

Back home I went to begin preparing the vegetable soup of all vegetable soups, summoning forth cooking skills I didn't know I had. Iron Chef, here I come because I am a PHENOMENAL cook! The kitchen smelled so savory I thought I might have concocted my own heaven simply through sauteeing some onions and herbs. I didn't eat any last night because it was still a detox day pour moi, but I am so EXCITED to taste my creation today.

I slept like a baby last night, especially with the knowledge that today a whole world of food awaits. Birds were singing when I woke up! It's St. Patrick's Day! Why not wear my favorite BRIGHT GREEN big tee/dress! My hair looks fantastic! My skin is GLOWING! My tongue is (almost) completely PINK!

And at 7:55 am this morning, there it was; my Mecca, my promised land of milk and honey--my Jamba Juice on San Vicente in Brentwood, with wheat grass and orange juice waiting for me. And as the smell of a freshly cut lawn filled my nostrils, I threw back my head and sipped mightily, taking in the shot, thinking once again, THIS WHEAT GRASS IS DELICIOUS!

The end.