Monday, April 28, 2008

Lover, you should really love Jeff Buckley.

It's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her
It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
It's never over, she's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever
I really want to meet someone who loves that song as much as I do.

It blows my whole brain every time I listen to it. Which is frequently.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Self Imposed Exile/ Girls are dumb.

Part I - Self Imposed Exile::

For the past several months, I have been going a little overboard in my life. I am not saying it hasn't been fun [it has], but I felt like I was getting a little out of control. In order to get back on track, I have been wanting a weekend all to myself, free of vice, technology, and outside influences. Originally my plan had been to go to Palm Springs and just hang out, all by my lonesome. But when my roommate announced she was leaving for a week, I decided that I would make my house my own personal sanctuary.

So basically, for the last two days I fell off the face of the earth, I worked on my tan, I wrote a bunch, I read even more, I felt wonderful and happy and sad and lonely and wonderful again. I relearned how to spend time with myself. I organized my closet. I even had my own little Project Runway experience when I tried [and failed] to sew a tunic for myself. I dealt [and continue to deal with ] a gas leak.

At the end of it all, I learned no great lessons. I didn't find myself, discover the meaning of life, or write the first few pages of the next great American novel. I am still bummed as hell that it is Sunday, thereby making tomorrow a workday. But I feel grounded and strong. And over all, I am pretty gosh darn happy.

Part II - Girls are dumb [sometimes]::

So I have this friend I will call Dee. Dee and I were very good friends in High School, are slightly less friendly these days, but still quite close. We speak irregularly but have always managed to somehow keep a genuine connection between us. Or at least I think so, anyhow.

Dee, despite being brilliant in nearly every facet of her life, has atrocious taste in men. Worse than me even. If there is a useless man within 10 miles of Dee, she will sniff him out and make him the love of her life until the whole farce of a relationship blows up in her face. It is rather painful to watch, but I always just figured that one day she would realize the absurdity of her ways and find a man that didn't totally suck.

I may be wrong. Dee's latest conquest, Moldy, is her worst yet. So of course, true to form, Dee has declared him the love of her life. Moldy is a pathological liar, a womanizer, and pretty much a total unreliable asshole. I know all of this because he is a pseudo friend of mine. Pseudo in that I hang with him on occasion, can have a beer and a laugh with him, but don't trust even a teensy little bit.

Recently, I went out with a Mutual Friend of myself and Moldy and had a conversation that went as such::

Me:: Hey, how is Moldy? I have not seen the kid for a while.

Mutual Friend:: He is really good, he has been really busy dating lots of chicks.

Me:: Say whhhha? Did he and Dee break up??

Mutual Friend:: Oh shit, I forgot you are friends with Dee. Please, please, please don't say anything.

Me:: Of course not. It is none of my business.

BUT, the problem is this. I don't actually believe that it is none of my business. Because after all, Dee is my friend. If I were Dee, and I loved a man who was cheating on me and my friends knew, I would damn well expect them to tell me about it.

So that is what I did in a roundabout way. I didn't want to get Mutual Friend in hot water, so I made up a cockamamie story about how I thought that maybe I may have possibly maybe seen Moldy with another gal. My thought was that telling Dee her boyfriend might be cheating 1) would cause her to reexamine the relationship, and 2) would force her to confront Moldy and he'd have to come clean, since he is in fact cheating.

Turns out, neither of the results I had anticipated came to pass. Dee refused to talk to Moldy because according to her, he is under a lot of pressure and she does not want to add to it. And further, Moldy would NEVER cheat. They are in love. I am mistaken. And that is that.

On one hand, I understand where Dee is coming from. She is desperate for a relationship and to feel deeply connected to someone. She does not want to see how flawed her chosen partner is, because she is desperate, and she can pretend, at least for now, he is what she wants.

On the other hand, I want to say to her - For the love of God lady, wake the hell up. You are dating a total asshole. Just because you don't want to admit it or see it, does not make it any less true. And when a friend of your's who loves you tells you something, perk up your ears, open your eyes, and stop being so stupidly naive.

But of course, I can't say that to Dee. So I am saying it to you instead.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Working out is hazardous to your health.

I kid you not. One day post Burn/Torture 60 and I am incapable of walking, standing, laughing, drinking or thinking. Literally every single muscle in my body aches. Certainly more information than you desire, but I had to use the handicap bathroom at the office today because I needed the handrail to hoist myself back up to standing position. I would not be able to sprint down the hallway if my life depended on it. And I tend to think I could do ANYTHING if my life depended on it (I do after all, plan to be immortal).

On another note, a great many of you have expressed shock and awe over the current Evil Troll Situation. And I know!!! The whole situation is totally bat shit crazy. The latest is that Evil Boyfriend (as in Evil Troll's current/ex boyfriend) called my New Roommate to tell her that he and Evil Troll are engaged in a project together (I can only imagine what this "project" entails) and that he can't talk to my New Roommate until after they have concluded said "project".

And the reasons for his mandated hiatus? Because he can't think of my New Roommate without wanting to [expletive] her and he needs to not be [expletiving] her right now out of respect to Evil Troll. Those are his words, not mine!!!!

And by the way, please add this to my list of pet peeves::
Someone who has already done bad things X and Y says that they will not do bad thing Z "out of respect."

Real life example:: I just stole your shoes and cut a hole in your socks, but out of respect for you, I will not step on your toes.

Thanks?

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

A world of pain.

Examples of a good idea:: ice cream, pool side frolicking, pancakes, vacations, backyard BBQs, baseball games, massages, cupcakes, swimming pools, bubble bath, diet carbonated beverages, photographs.

Examples of a bad idea::
waking up at 5a (in the morning people!!!) to engage in the most hellish workout ever after not having worked out in half a decade.

Wanting to fit in with the early morning worker outter contingent at my work place, I signed up to join my clearly masochistic cohorts today at Burn 60. The class was way the hell over in Brentwood and started at 6a. I have not woken up that early since my burglar alarm went off a couple months ago, and even then, I considered staying in bed. And the name Burn 60? Accurate in part, as their is in fact burning. However, not merely for the 60 minutes the name implies. I am 9.5 hours post workout and I am in PAIN. I can't walk, I can't bend down, it is a wonder I can even type.

I also went to see Dr. Kerendian, marking our one month anniversary. Between the lipotropics and the ass kicking workout, I better see some results. And I mean soon!

Monday, April 21, 2008

No title is good enough.

First of all, let me say - holy fucking shit. Second, let me say - the following is shockingly, amazingly, karma is a mean bitch-edly true.

Most of you will recall my tales of Evil Troll. The basic synopses is as follows::

Once upon a time, Evil Troll and I were BFF style. Inseparable. Sisterly, even. I defended her against plethora's of (correct) naysayers. I put up with her absolute flakery. I introduced her to all my friends and basically made her part of my family. And worst of all, I made the fateful decision last September to move in with her.

Fast forward two months, and Evil Troll informs me that she is going to bail on the lease to move in with her boyfriend of one point five months. She fails to inform me that in the process, she intends to lie, cheat, steal and act like a total psychopath.

For a while, I was very sad, not to mention completely stressed that she and I had moved into a giant house for which I was now solely responsible. I started to surround myself with non-Evil Troll like persons. Time passed. The anger subsided. The memories of the havoc Evil Troll caused faded. Recently, I stopped thinking of Evil Troll (almost) altogether.

Until.

Today.

When I come home, and find who?

Nope, not Evil Troll.

I find Evil Troll's mother fucking BOYFRIEND!

Hooking up with my New roommate (who for the sake of clarity, is not Evil Troll).

[Aside:: They had meet when New Roommate came to visit the house a few times before she moved in. Turns out they met again today - and well, the rest is history as they say.]

Let's recap shall we?

Evil Troll befriends Diet Coke, Evil Troll fucked Diet Coke over to move in with her boyfriend, Evil Troll hoodwinks some poor unsuspecting girl to take over her lease and buy all of her stuff, poor unsuspecting girl ends up fucking Evil Troll over by fucking Evil Troll's boyfriend.

OMG OMG OMG OMG.

Part of me feels sad for Evil Troll because that totally sucks, and frankly, is not that kind of thing that people should have to experience. But dang, former home slice had it coming. Also, what kind of total asshat is this boyfriend of hers (or not hers, rather)??!?!?!

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

My weekend from Wednesday's perspective.

I meant to share with you my thoughts on last weekend because it was pretty eventful. And here we are, Wednesday night, and I am finally getting around to posting about my weekend. The reasons for the delay are::

1. When I got home last night, I plopped down on my couch and became completely incapacitated. I could see my laptop two feet away and still could not muster up the strength to get up grab it. I sat there for about three hours, not sleeping, thinking about all the stuff that I had to do that I was not doing. And then I dozed off and had a dream that I had finally figured out how to draft this wretched agreement I am working on. And then I woke up. Feeling really sad because it was almost morning and the agreement was not in fact figured out.

2. Being the consummate procrastinator that I am, I figured it would be fine to put off my weekend blog until later...and later...and later...

So again, here we are, Wednesday night, and I am finally getting around to posting about my weekend, and all I can remember about it was that it was really fucking hot.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Coolin by day then at night working up a sweat

You know how sometimes you go to a place and you see some gal or guy rocking out to the music? And I don't mean rocking out in an adorable way, which also happens. I am speaking of the times where a group of people are staring dumbfounded while a lone girl sings along and makes accompanying hand jesters to "Oops, I Did it Again." And you feel sorry for this person, and you swear that you will never be this person, because to be this person is a crime?

Sadly, at 7:42p last night, in the vicinity of Beverly and La Jolla, I was that person. Here is my story.

I was driving along after a hard days work (very hard day's work), feeling a pretty out of it and exhausted. The radio was letting me down as it always does* so I started sifting through my glove box (does anyone actually keep gloves in their glove box?) and found an unmarked CD. Actually, I found about ten or so unmarked CDs, and just randomly plopped one in. All of the aforementioned happened while I was driving, so you can imagine how much my lane mates liked me at this point.

The first song was "Buttons" by Sia. Good song, but not appropriate for the mood. I was thinking something a little less pep and a little more Jeff Buckley, so I skipped ahead to the next track. As the next song started to play, I showed a little apprehension. But by the time the second "Ah, push it" rang out, the volume was already starting to creep up to deafening levels.

At "Ow! Baby! Baby! Salt and Pepas here!" my driver's seat has turned into a full on 80's roller rink party. Everything continued going swimmingly well until I got to, "Better make it fast or else I'm gonna get pissed." I was shucking and jiving like a lunatic when I noticed that the car full of peeps to my left were laughing hysterically, taking great lengths to drive right beside me, so as to not lose sight of their nights entertainment. When the passenger in the car winked at me, I decided I needed to flee the scene at once and swiftly busted a right. I lost sight of the car, but the mortification followed me all the way home.

Last night, I fell victim to Push It. I became The Girl rocking out while people stared in astonished amusement. And frankly, it felt pretty damn good. Not the being a spectacle so much, but the part about letting the music overtake you. When I left the office, I was totally bummed and stressed. By the time I arrived at my driveway, I was feeling slightly euphoric about the carefree weekend with perfect weather that was ahead of me. And for this, I have Salt n' Pepa to thank.

* Speaking of the radio, I like the "I can ride a bike with no handlebars" song as much as the next person, but must it be on the radio 6 times a day? Is there really such a glut in the music industry that the same good song has to played constantly? If so, and I highly doubt that it is actually so, it makes me sad.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

By the time I grow up.

The Apocalypse is around the bend (aka - Diet Coke is turning 30 soon). Soon is relative, of course, and in this context means five hundred and one certain to be fleeting days. Gasp.

I seldom think of the aging process, probably because I act more like a college freshman on a typical day than a sophisticated adult. And still, the fact remains, I am getting old(er). And I have no more of an idea about life now than I did ten years ago, and aside from my scholastic achievements and income earning, it is safe to say that I have not accomplish much either. I am basically the same person now as I was then except with three extra gray hairs, reduced skin elasticity, a better wardrobe, more clutter, and less optimism about the world. Thank god my boobs have held up, I'd otherwise be totally defeated.

I decided last night rather than rue the day I roll over into my Dirty Thirties, I am going to make the next five hundred and one days the most fantastic I've experienced yet. When my personal Age Apocalypse arrives, I won't look back and wish/wonder/lament what could have been and be sad over a waste "youth".

To that end, I have made a list of all the things I want to accomplish (my list is clearly unbridled by reality)::

1. Run a marathon (even if really, really slowly)
2. Save a life
3. Finally clear my closet of all the clothing that I love but never wear
4. Publish a book
5. Write a poem that dose not suck
6. Learn how to properly use "that" and "which"
7. Stop being a lawyer
8. Cease all lies, even the ones that I tell to make others feel better
9. Learn to cook like my mother
10. One time (just one measly effing time) get something done BEFORE the deadline
11. Start writing thank you notes
12. Forgive Evil Troll for being the worst person I have ever come across (clearly, not nearing forgiveness quite yet)
13. Only engage in activities that I want to genuinely be engaging in (no more party attendance out of obligation, ya'll!)
14. Travel somewhere by myself
15. Have sex on a mountain top
16. Start remembering people's birthdays
17. Learn to drive - properly
18. Pay my parking tickets before the fine doubles
19. Stop signing up for things and then never going
20. Meditate
21. Levitate

There you have it. Those are the first 21 things that came to mind. There are hundreds more, but you get the point. And if you perhcance don't get the point, it is this:: I have a lot a lot of things I want to do in my life. And for the most part, I am not doing them. And I am getting tired of having things I want to do and not doing them. Because life in general is short, and mine is getting shorter by the second, and so by golly - I am going to start going to make shit happen.

Errr, I just thought of one more thing.

22. Stop being the kind of person that purchases extravagantly expensive shoes.
When I grow up
I'll be stable
When I grow up
I'll turn the tables

Friday, April 4, 2008

The Importance of Maintaining Decorum

Today, we have two topics up for discussion. First we have a little story about how your dearest author has managed to embarrass herself for the trillionth time (and that is in 2008 alone). Then we have an update on my visit to Dr. Kerendian.

The Importance of Maintaining Decorum::

Four score and one year ago, my friend Teebs and I attended a certain marketing event hosted by a certain investment bank. While marketing events are typically not my style, we were lured in by promises of hot guys, and more importantly, free booze. Whereas the aforementioned good looking men were nowhere to be found, the alcohol was as abundant as oxygen. After about two (or perhaps closer to six) mango infused Bellini's, Teebs and I were totally out of control – basically acting like two ditzy (but very cute and endearing) ass hats. Apparently, investment bankers are into ass hats, because we were certainly the most popular girls in the room. Or perhaps the only girls in the room? Either way, we have a gaggle of guys surrounding us, more or less hanging on our every word.

Three more Bellini's and an hour later, someone had the idea of going across the street to the Peninsula Hotel to get a late night bite. Once we left the confines of the marketing event, all hell broke loose. When drunk, Diet Coke has a tendency to (a) say EVERYTHING in her drunk (and thereby, feeble) mind, and (b) talk to strangers. And on this particular night, I indulged in both (a) and (b) to the greatest extent possible. So much in fact, that by the time we sat down to eat, we had at least one random guy from the bar dining with us. After that, I don't really remember much. All I know is that someone had to drive me home and the next morning I felt like the death bus had run over my face. Twice.

Imagine my surprise, when I walk into the attorney meeting on Monday where a new lateral partner is introduced, and said partner is none other than one of the guys from that investment banking marketing event turning into a drunken brouhaha. The shame, the embarrassment, the hilarity!

My point, dear readers is this:: When going to a social function where your current or future colleagues are likely to be in attendance, don't get shit faced drunk and act like a total baboon.

More on the Good Doctor Kerendian::

I have received an alarming number of emails from you registering your shock, dismay, and concern over my visit to Dr. Kerendian. Let me say, first, that I realize that there is no magic pill that is going to make me super model thin and that in order to attain the body I want, I have to work for it. Being the smarty pants that I am, I also know that there are many diet fads that can be dangerous. That all being said, the Good Doctor Kerendian is an actual doctor with credentials and experience, and not some random who-ha hack that just popped up. And most importantly, whether it is my crazy brain playing tricks on me or a legitimate result of lipotropics and vitamins, I feel super.

Thanks for looking out though!

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Must. Lose. Weight.

Having spent the better part of the last two years lamenting the ten extra pounds on my frame despite all my various weight loss efforts (which admittedly, have typically compromised my eating "healthy" for two days, and then going out for Mexican food) – I am taking (semi) drastic measures.

I heard rumblings a few months ago from Evil Troll about a Dr. Kerendian in Beverly Hills who is supposed to be a weight loss guru. Such rumblings were ignored given Evil Troll's status as 1) a dishonest and 2) evil. But then again on Monday, the Good Doctor Kerendian entered into my life when I heard someone in the elevators at my office talking about how their friend's, friend's, friend lost – "like, 25 pounds and looks, like, totally awesome."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is all the endorsement I need.

So I rang up the Good Doctor Kerendian, who is conveniently located down the street, and come tomorrow at 1:00 p, I will be in his care on my way to weight loss bliss. I hope. The first appointment is taking various tests to measure my metabolic rate, blood work, and all that other doctorly stuff. I am verboden from consumption of caffeine AND alcohol for the 24 hours period prior.* Thusly, the diet coke I am drinking right now makes me a rule breaker. But I swear, after this one, no more. Errr, maybe.

Also, for those of you curious about Dr. Kerendian (and apparently, that is many of you because the phone guy told me the place gets 180 calls a DAY), I will post periodically about my results, costs, and give a general review of Dr. Kerendian. Until then, you can refer to his website.

* I totally cheated and had two drinks last night with some friends at The 3rd Stop. I used to love this place, but they have totally lost themselves. They are trying to be all fancy now and it is v v v v v annoying.

The First Appointment::

I just returned from my first appointment with Dr. Kerendian. I use the term "with" very loosely, as the appointment was in fact with his medical staff (I was previously informed that the first would be). They took some blood, weighted me (THE HORROR!!!), took my body fat (THE HORROR!!!!), and had me take a metabolic test (my metabolism is normal to higher than normal – I guess I am fattish because I eat a lot. Damn!). Afterwords the Good Doctor's Physician Assistant came in any told how he thinks I basically don't eat right and how I need to work out more, build some muscle, yada yada blah blah. He then told me to come back in three days to see the Good Doctor Kerendian.

My thoughts:: Yes, buddy. I know all this. And I didn't pay three hundred cash American dollar dollar bills to hear you tell me I am fattish because I eat too much and I don't work out enough. Give me some pills!! Give me some shots!!!

My reply::
Ok, thanks.

The Second Appointment::

The *real* appointment day arrived at last. I was off to see the Good Doctor Kerendian in the flesh. We chatted for nearly an hour, talked about my eating habits (bad), life style (naughty), work outs (non-existent), energy level (low), etc. After about forty minutes of yapping, we got to the good stuff.

He put me on a 1200 calorie diet, twice daily metabolic packs (fist fulls of horse sized vitamins), and lipotropic injections. I received the first of the injections yesterday - in my butt (left side for those keeping track)- and I know it's crazy and impossible, but I feel much thinner already! talk about placebo effect.

Summary::

I just started The Program. Good Doctor Kerenian thinks I can lose up to 16 pounds, so that shall be my goal.