Once I'm Lucky, Twice I'm Good...Really. Damn. Good.

Oh hai.

I had a great meeting with the boss at work today.

I am reading a tech (the industry I work in, btw) book that I actually enjoy.

I am excelling at the work I do.

Life is good. I walked to the BART station today in the San Francisco sunshine, watching all the Financial District, investment banker twentysomethings checking their e-mail on their Blackberrys and felt so lucky to be where I'm at.

May I brag for a moment?

I graduated from college just one year ago. A lot of my peers went to graduate school and a lot of them went to...nowhere. I still see them on Facebook, of course, inviting me to random San Francisco/Berkeley/Walnut Creek/general Bay Area parties, but no company websites are added to their profiles, no invitations to join my network on LinkedIn.

I, on the other hand, have done a lot of shit in my first "adult" year and I was reminded of that today and it feels Really. Damn. Good.

Okay, that's enough of all of that. I've missed you all! How have you been? How was your Memorial Day Weekend?

Mine was fairly splendid.

My adorable, Earth-loving, very good friend (and Cute Boy's roommate), Carniverous Ryan, graduated from college and a small collection of my most favorite people in Northern California gathered to celebrate his accomplishment on Saturday. We spent the day at his parent's house in Novato, California (a beautiful little town on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge), churning homemade ice cream (oh my dear sweet goodness, it was all kinds of delicious!) and playing badminton (at which I kicked some legitimate ass.)

Sunday I attended a block party on Maiden Lane in Union Square. It was ridiculously, freezing cold and the unlimited drinks Cute Boy shelled out the big bucks for tasted like ass, but it was all for charity (Hip to Help - check it out, yo!) and the music was some of the best live music I've seen this side of Santa Barbara.



Monday I did a whole lot of nothing, while also purchasing a faux, tiny diamond ring for myself that fits on my left middle finger (which is, indeed, slightly smaller than my right middle finger), conveniently near to my ring finger, thus already tricking several of the people who cross my path during a given week that I got engaged over the weekend.



Calm down, I did not.

The best part about my three-day weekend, however? Why that would have to be the fact that it feels like the work week just begun and tomorrow is already Thursday!

THURSDAY!

Fan-fucking-tastic. Every business week should be a mere four days long.

For now, I must get back to my tantalizing geeky-tech, Web 2.0 book (Once You're Lucky, Twice You're Good by Sarah Lacy, if you must know) and Living Lohan (oh my dear sweet infant baby Jesus, the show is so bad, yet so good!).

I leave you with my Question of the Day: Is white nail polish all the rage now? Seriously, I am seeing it everywhere. Who knew I didn't have to spend $7 on my newest bottle of Essie's Mademoiselle when I could just buy a bottle of White Out for $2.98 from the Office Depot down the street (aka the office supply closet...I kid, I kid)?

Okay, I lied. One more question, this time regarding my iPhone.

A little background for you: my boss purchased iPhones for everyone in the office when they came out on the market last June. At the time, I had Verizon (I miss you, dear sweet wonderful carrier!) and paid to switch over to AT&T (for whom I share no such love or loyalty) for my new toy.

Of course, the phone is pretty cool, but mostly because everyone else tells me it is.

I never use the phone as an iPod, instead continuing to use the Nano I've had for 2+ years.

And the camera is great, but so is the bee-yoo-tee-full, $500+ one mi madre just purchased for me for Christmas.

And finally, I have an itch for the new Blackberry - like a major itch. Like "I should probably look into getting some prescription cream to get it fixed" itch.

So here's my question...

Should I make the switch to the Blackberry when my contract is up? And IF I do, should I hightail it back to Verizon as well?

Thoughts? And I mean on the White-Out manicures AND the Blackberry, folks - spill it, please :)

Rehydration Friday

Oh how I wish I were in Los Angeles right now.

It was so much fun working at home last Friday, what with my mom buzzing around me, feeding me at various intervals and distracting me with Oprah and margaritas.

Instead I am here in the office, like most Fridays, counting down the hours til quittin' time (its 8+, fyi). But today, I am doing it hungover.

Sweet.

I can't complain too much though. I Jamba Juiced myself this morning to lessen the pain and last night was all kinds of worth it.

My uber-talented Cute Boy won an award for one of his photographs at his school's art show. Then we proceeded to spend the rest of the night drinking ourselves into celebratory oblivion, which also involved getting into a booty-bumpin' dance-off (which I am 99.2% positive I won), convincing some very aggressive young, gay gentleman that my boyfriend was indeed MY boyfriend and watching some firefighters saw the top of a flipped car off to rescue some passengers stuck inside on the way home.

Yes, the last part of the night was a little insane.

It was around 2 AM, I was SO ready to get home and go to bed and of course, we turn a corner and come face-to-face with two cars on the sidewalk and a car turned on its side in the middle of the road. Several police cars, a fire engine and an ambulance immediately speed up behind us, so seeing that we were now boxed in on all sides, we had no choice but to get out of MY car and watch as they removed the roof of the flipped car and pull the (not-so-good) driver and passenger out.

So that was neat.

Got home around 3:30, passed out, woke up this morning with a mouth full of cotton and a head full of hurt and dragged myself by the hair to work to get us to where we are right now...longing to be re-hydrated and in LA.

How are all of you today? At least it's Friday, right? And the Friday before a three-day weekend!

Splendid, really.

Okay, stop distracting me. I'm off to take some more aspirin and actually get some work done.

Bitter is the New Blog Post

I've thought about this little blog a lot over the past 11 days.

(NONE of you scolded me for not posting, by the way. What am I going to do with you guys?)

I just had no motivation to write.

There were times when I was busy, sure - but probably more times when I was not.  More than ever, this past week and a half, I have been less than busy.  I have come home and not done more work.

I went home to LA.

I celebrated my best friend's graduation from USC.

I saw Wicked (for the second time!) and, oh my goodness!, it was just as glorious as the first.

I watched 27 Dresses (pretty darn adorable).

And I even took a day off!  But I didn't write in this blog...

I may or may not have gotten a little critical of myself lately.  I feel that I might be suffering from a chronic case of Blogger's Block and when I read all of your fabulous blogs in my Google Reader every day (or 15-17 times throughout the day), I feel that my blog posts pale in comparison and so...well...what's the point of even putting them up?

Gawd, depressing right?

But it's been fun as well.  It's been all kinds of wonderful to come home and not force myself to do anything - work, blog, eat healthy, exercise...oh wait, I never force myself to do those last two anyway :)

But I've missed you guys - and some of you write me the sweetest comments, even when I haven't written anything in days.  Plus, the whole lot of you entertain me to no end every single day, so hopefully I can do a little bit of the same for each of you every once in awhile.

ANYWAYS - there is one thing in particular that encouraged me to get back on the blog horse...

As some of you may know, I LOVE Jen Lancaster (author of Bitter is the New Black; Bright Lights, Big Ass; and Such a Pretty Fat).  Well, the lovely Ms. Lancaster has been on a book tour promoting her most recent book (Pretty Fat) and I have waited patiently until the day she finally made it to San Francisco - TODAY.

Turns out she was at one of my favorite bookstores in the Marina (Books, Inc., if you must know).

Unfortunately for me (Jen Lancaster's biggest fan), parking in the Marina is a bitch - meaning even though I arrived on time, I was half an hour late actually getting into the bookstore and missed what I am sure were oodles and oodles of sharp witticisms.

It mattered not, for I was witness to the entire Q&A section of her appearance and got all three of my (her) books signed by her, plus this lovely memento:

Anyways - actually meeting Jen reminded me of how much I love writing and blogging and conversing (even electronically!) with all of you!  So here I am, back (again!), refreshed and revitalized by my glimpse into the celebrity writers world.

I've missed you (again!).

A Blog About Nothing

Happy Cinco de Mayo, lovelies!

Who's getting wasted tonight?! Mom, I know you've got your hand raised! Who else?

Probably not me, actually. First of all, I am lame. I don't actually like being drunk and I especially hate being hungover, which happens to me almost any time libations hit my lips. And second, I have work to do tonight. Who would've thought?!

No, but really. Maybe I'll throw back a shot of Patron in between pitching reporters - it'll probably get my creative juices flowing.

I hope everyone had a lovely weekend. Mine was pretty splendid - too short, but splendid.

I know you will all forgive me for not posting two days in a row, since I posted three days in a row (!) before that. I had to get in some quality time with the Best from home, Cute Boy and of course my ever-growing collection of Books to Read.

Job Spa is pretty good so far, though I don't think they would condone my blog-writing on the job. Whatever - consider this my lunch break...speaking of, I should probably go get some food...

I feel like I had so much to blog about today and now I can't remember any of it! Three things on the top of my mind right now:

- Sara Bareilles kicks ass! Everyone should buy/illegally download her CD!
- I suck at commenting on other people's blogs. It doesn't mean I'm not reading - I am! - and I usually think of some comment in my head too...I just don't post it. I promise I will get better at that as soon as I get back into the hang of this blogging consistently thing.
- Why does everyone love Gossip Girl so much? Having never watched it, can someone please explain the appeal to me?!

Viva la Mexico!

1/4 Gallon of Pee

You wanna know what's sweet?

Peeing into a cup at the doctor's office.

Especially when they hand you a half-gallon (or what appears to be) jar and say:

"So I'm gonna need that at least half full."

No problem. I've been storing up exactly 1/4 gallon of my pee just for this occasion.

To be fair, though, the woman who inserted an especially sharp needle into the inside part of my elbow nook this morning did an excellent job. She found one of my mystery veins immediately and only poked me once!

I was very proud of her.

How's my busy Friday been going, you ask?

Eh, it's been alright. How's yours?

Work has been crazy, but its been getting done and I'm getting things in before their deadline - PLUS (!) one of my calls got cancelled. So that was pretty sweet.

I'm having dinner with one of my very good friends from college - who also happens to be male - and this has been a major point of contention between Cute Boy and me today.

I mean MAY-JAH.

So may-jah, in fact, that I don't even feel comfortable blogging about it (yet) because the aforementioned contention is still fresh and not exactly resolved yet.

Sigh.

Not that I don't know where Cute Boy's coming from. A few months ago, one of his ex-girlfriends called him up and wanted to get lunch. He invited me to come, but I decided to pass on that little reunion.

In the end, he didn't even end up meeting up with her, so this is all a moot story, but my point is that I do understand the uncomfortableness of having your significant other out alone with the opposite sex.

However - in my case, its just a friend from school and in his case, it was an ex-girlfriend. A crazy ex-girlfriend, but an ex-girlfriend nonetheless.

Look at me! I am blabbing away even though the MAY-JAH contention still hangs above my head.

Sorry, Cute Boy. Next time I'll just stick to the pee.

Resolution

When did life get so goddamned busy? Being a grown-up is LAME.

Do you hear that, mom? As soon as I find myself back in LA, I am moving back into my room. I would like for you to please resume cooking me dinner, washing the dishes, doing my laundry, paying my bills and being the only one who wakes up early to go to work.

'Preciate it! Love ya!

But really, being an adult is not that bad. I actually kind of like some of it. Like tonight, for instance, I had to write a $1,000 check because rent is due tomorrow and I actually...kind of get a thrill out of it. I don't know, it's weird. I don't like giving away large sums of my hard-earned money, but it feels good to pay for "grown-up" things with money I worked hard to earn.

Ya know what I'm sayin'?

I know, I know. I am strange.

ANYWAYS, my whole point of ranting (and then recanting) on adulthood is that I never write in this blog anymore. Like seriously, I am the lamest blogger ever. I would probably not read my own blog, were it not my blog, because I post like every 1.5 weeks.

Not cool.

But seriously I blame this busy adult business! It's taking over my life and my precious time allotted for this blog!

So I am making a resolution!

I promise (resolute?) to write in this blog AT LEAST every other day.

I can't promise every day just yet, because that's just a little too overwhelming for me at this point. But, at the very least, I need to make the same commitment to this little bundle of love (and splendidness!) that I make for everything else.

Because it is that important to me. And so are you :)

Aw.

And if I don't follow through, I want you to call me out on it! Because I don't do well with confrontation and if I feel like you guys are going to yell at me - well, I'll get my ass in gear.

And I'll know that you really want to read lil 'ol Splendid Really, so I'll feel all warm and fuzzy inside too.

Anyways, that's all I really had to say for tonight. Insightful, no?

I bet you're so excited that I'm back.

:)

A Blogger Story

What is wrong with me?

This is the last full week of April and it is only my fifth post of the month. I used to be so good at this!

Honestly, I just feel worn the fuck out at work. Sometimes its satisfying and I feel responsible for a lot of important things which I actually get done and do well. Other times, I feel like I'm given a bunch of busy intern-like bitch work, because...well, I used to be the intern.

Either way, I'm tired.

Yesterday this lovely young lady left a comment on my TwentySomethingBloggers page - something to the effect of "Your picture is gorgeous..." There was, of course, more to the comment than that, but that was certainly the most memorable part to me, especially considering I was having one of those days where I felt less than stellar-looking.

Because her comment upped my spirits so much, I decided to check out her TwentySomethingBloggers page/blog and found that we have a lot in common!

To begin with she lives in San Francisco and used to live in New York (alas, a city I have never lived in, but one that I have very recently fallen in love with). She is close to my age, she recently bought a Nissan Altima (only my favorite car ever and the one I also own) and she happens to have my dream job.

Obviously, I fell in love with her a little bit.

It could be weird that I am blogging about this before I have even responded to her, but I think she'll understand. After all, she is a San Francisco-lovin', Altima-drivin', twentysomething AND she happened to have that uncanny girl intuition that told her I really, really, really needed to get a nice compliment from a random stranger yesterday.

Oh and you can check out her blog here: Camels & Chocolate. Go tell her how gorgeous she is!

Abortions, Roommates and MannyTails

I know, I know - I didn't post again last night and I am sorry! I had a vicious headache...

I have a few things on my mind today.



The first thing is an article I read about a Yale art student who artificially inseminated herself several times over the course of the schoolyear, while also taking abortifacient drugs throughout the year and videotaping her miscarriages, as part of her senior art project. The project is intended to incite discussion, I suppose, and she claims that she did not engage in these actions for shock value.

Although, I have to say, I am a little shocked.

I don't want to come right out and say that what I think she did was wrong, because I am still trying to wrap my head around it. In a way, I understand the commentary she's putting out there and I appreciate her creativity in inciting discussion about an important topic, BUT...

People already talk about abortion.

It's one of the most controversial topics in America. So is it really necessary to purposefully impregnate yourself several times over, knowing that you will abort each of the fetuses without hesitation for the sake of...art?

I asked Cute Boy for his opinion, being that he is a talented artist himself and LOVES art with actual societal and cultural commentary in it. Although he too felt that he needed to think about it for awhile, his first thought was this:

"The values of our culture are not something to live and die by. This may be controversial now, but later will be understood and accepted as art. A guy in South America tied a dog to a rope and starved it to death for everyone to see at an art show - he was commenting on how many dogs are left to starve on the streets. He brought the streets to the upper class, where the power really is. It's ironic to kill, but I think its important to show the negligence...like its ironic to show concern for unborn life when we don't show concern for those who are already living."

So obviously, her project is already working. It's incited discussion between Cute Boy and me, thousands of miles away from her senior seminar art class, within minutes.

I'm still not so sure about this one though. I can't help but feel that a truly creative artist would be able to invoke commentary and insightful discussion (about a topic that actually needs more discussion) without taking any lives (humans, dogs or otherwise).

What do you think?



So my second pressing thought for the day revolves around my current living situation.

Let me give you a little background...

...Once upon a time there was a college senior named Jenna. She had big plans to graduate college, work for a PR firm in San Francisco and move in with one of her best friends from college and, by mid-2007, had efficiently accomplished all three. It took only a month or two to find that her roommate (and soon-to-be former friend) was increasingly difficult to live with. After all, it takes a lot of patience to live with someone who doesn't have a job (and who's parents pay for everything), who is taking naps when you get home from work and then complains to you about the hard day she's had, and finally who spreads rather ridiculous and wholly false lies about you because you no longer spend all your time at home with her listening to her complain about her difficult nap and shopping-filled day. Needless to say, said roommate (and former friend) moves out within 5 months of moving in (back in with her parents, of course) and Jenna is forced to find a new roommate. She quickly finds Julie, who is wonderful on so many levels - she is kind, clean, funny and bakes lots of cookies of which I am always given the extras - but is also a graduating law student who is moving back to San Diego in June...as in next month. So Jenna needs another roommate yet again...

And here we are.

There's a possibility that my very best friend from Los Angeles will be moving to San Francisco and, if that is the case, she will be forced to live with me in my apartment. I will give her no other choice.

But...there is also a possibility that she will not move up here and my landlord has insisted that I at least put an ad up on Craigslist. So now, I am trying to think of the perfect roommate - a combination of qualities that I must insist on my next housemate having in order for my to comfortably survive alongside of them for the next year or more. So I begin...


Julie Qualities I Need in a Roommate
- nice
- quiet
- respects my privacy
- pays her bills on time (and pays them herself! imagine that!)
- friendly
- likes Cute Boy (and doesn't mind him being over CONSTANTLY)
- clean

Best Friend from Home Qualities I Need (or would like) in a Roommate
- funny
- non-judgmental
- would NEVER spread untruths about me!
- likes Cute Boy
- ambitious
- knows me inside and out
- is my best friend

What am I missing? I need to be very particular this time around!



Finally the last thing on my mind today is a businessman I saw out the window of my office. He was walking down the street in the Financial District with his sharp suit and his briefcase and...a ponytail. And not a regular old ponytail, but a short, stubby little ponytail. Meaning that had he actually had his hair NOT gathered in an elastic band it would be a normal, short length, but for some reason he felt it was necessary to pull his hair back in a ponytail.

I don't know how his business colleagues felt about that, but I lost a little respect for him right there.

Titties

You want to know what's sweet?

When you Google Image my name, you get like 7 pages of ta-tas in your face.

Just a little something Jenna Jameson and I have in common...

...thanks for the moniker, mom.

(p.s. I promise to post a more substantial blog post later. Maybe.)

Livin' in a Gangsta's Paradise

Cute Boy and I are not hanging out tonight.

CB: "What are you going to do tonight?"

Me: "I don't know." - not because I actually have nothing to do, but more because I have SO much to do that I don't know where to start.

CB: "You should blog. You haven't blogged in a long time. You should just spend all night writing."

That made me a little bitter. As if I have nothing to do all night but blog!

And then I remembered something.

I remembered when I started this little baby and all I could think about was something else I wanted to write. How I would get distracted from things I had to do because I so desperately wanted to fire up Blogger and shoot some undoubtedly ingenious words of wisdom your way. And now, here I am acting as if blogging is a chore.

It's not a chore. If anything, it's a small pleasure in a life of chaos, stress and always having something left to check off on my to-do list.

So ladies and gentleman, I am back! No longer will I forget that this one "chore" is the one that brings me the greatest release and relief; the one that helps me sort out my thoughts, my feelings, my angers and my ridiculous sense of humor, even if I'm not always sharing everything on the page with you.

So while I sit here, simultaneously unpacking from the last three weeks of travel, doing laundry, paying my bills and following up on work e-mails, I am catching up with you as well.

I've missed you :)

So the last time I posted was right before I left for Vegas. Ahh, Vegas.

Vegas was a lot of things, but here is what it was not: GAMBLING, EXCESSIVE INEBRIATION, ACTIONS I REGRET IN THE MORNING.

(I am sure Cute Boy is thankful for that last one.)

But seriously, I don't recommend going to Vegas for work. What's the point? I was at the Hard Rock Hotel with its delicious-looking pool and cocktails and rockstar memorabilia and I was wearing business casual attire with a SWEET conference ID badge wrapped around my neck every single day. I was running into people in flip-flops and itsy-bitsy, teenie-weenie, yellow polka dot bikinis as I checked my e-mail incessantly from my phone. In short, it was kind of lame.

But I can't pretend that in the midst of all that occupational ridiculosity, I didn't have a little bit of fun. I made some really great contacts, got to know some other contacts even better and even stayed in a suite for one night (granted, I was by myself, pitching to reporters all night in said suite, but STILL...)!

All in all, I can't complain. I got a trip to Vegas, a night in a suite, a dinner at Nobu and the chance to network with people from the Wall Street Journal to other blogs not unlike our own. And that, my friends, is priceless.

What have I been doing since I got back from Vegas, you say? What has been so important that I couldn't blog for the past five days?!

Nothing, Splendid Really fans. Dare I say it? Absolutely nothing.

When I returned home last Thursday, my car was finally ready to be picked up from the auto body shop (such splendid timing!). I took a $28 cab out to pick her up (which really, Progressive should pay for, dontcha think?) and she looks better than ever! Seriously, having some random dipshit run into my poor, unassuming, parked vehicle is the best thing that ever happened to my car. Now the front bumper is like new, even though there was some considerable damage to it before this most recent accident. I can't help but think, however, that I should get my baby out of Little Bitchcisco before something else happens to her. Stat.

Okay, so after that, my best friend from home also came up this weekend. On Saturday, her and I, along with our respective Cute Boys, went to Alcatraz Island. In my 23 years on this earth (living in California that whole time, mind you) this was my first trek to the infamous prison. It was AWESOME! Supposedly, you can take a tour where you spend a night on "The Rock", which the bestest and I will do fo sho. Don't know about the Cute Boys - they might be a little too p*ssy for that shit.

God, what is up with my foul language today? I apologize. I've been reading Barack Obama's "The Audacity of Hope" and I just read the chapter on Race, which talked about inner-city, young Black men and I guess I got a little too gangsta for my britches.

Obama will do that to ya.

Moving on, I spent all of today on my old stomping grounds - UC Berkeley. I'm organizing an informational/career panel for my alma mater consisting of CEOs/founders of companies we represent at work. So anyway, because I went to Berkeley, I suppose I am automatically just supposed to know everyone and therefore was designated "girl who gets to go back to campus and...pass out flyers". Sweet. Everybody loves the flyer guy.

I think I spent 2/3 of my college career trying to avoid that guy.

So I spent most of my day sweating my ass off and giving awkward speeches in front of classes who undoubtedly thought, "Who the fuck does this alumni bitch think she is?"

(Sorry. I just canNOT shake that gangsta vernacular today.)

It was trippy (yes, trippy) being back on campus and made me equal parts nostalgic and happy to be the fuck out of there, but that's another long ass post for another long ass day.

So now you know why I've been neglecting you for so long. It's not because I had any real excuse, you see, but just because I was saving up for this massive, kick-ass post that would keep you entertained for at least (at least!) five whole minutes at work.

You're welcome. And I love you too :)

Peace out.

Sin City

Alas, I am off to Las Vegas this afternoon.

I honestly feel that I really haven't unpacked and lived in my apartment for the last three weeks. This traveling business is a bitch.

But I'll stop complaining. I just took a trip to New York and now am taking a trip to Las Vegas at absolutely no cost to me. Not that I got to really enjoy New York, nor will I spend any time lounging by the Hard Rock Hotel pool during my stay, but these are free trips away from the office nonetheless and I am grateful for them.

I tried to convince Cute Boy to come to Vegas with me, but he's got enough craziness going on in his own life currently, and I wouldn't be able to spend much time with him anyway. It'll be good for us to spend more than one night apart though. As much as his ridiculousness makes me laugh (i.e. yesterday when he proclaimed that "My Hero" by the Foo Fighters was in every sports scene of every movie of our youth, when it was really only in Varsity Blues and maybe Not Another Teen Movie - and he was serious about this exaggerative proclamation), I feel like we both get a lot more done when the other is not around.

Anyways, when I fly back on Thursday, my best friend from home will be in town (how convenient!) and the next weekend my best friend from San Francisco who recently moved back to San Diego will be in town and the NEXT weekend, is my mom's birthday even though I shan't be in LA because I'll be one of the subjects in Cute Boy's latest production (a photograph, if you must know), so the next few week(end)s are pretty much going to kick ass.

Don't be jealous. See you kids in Sin City!

Mind-Boggler

My productivity today boggles the mind.

At least it boggles my mind how much more I get done - both for work and for my personal life - when I work from home, which is what I did today.

I worked remotely (also known as the most heavenly way of getting a job done) because I had to give my keys to the tow truck driver who was coming to take my baby away to the auto body shop and I also had to go to said auto body shop to fill out some paperwork (aka sign that I am - of course! - okay with somebody else's insurance paying to fix my front bumper).

So anyways I worked from home and, free from distractions I won't elaborate on at this time, probably got more work done than I ever do at work, plus I finally unpacked, did two loads of laundry, straightened my unruly mane, went to aforementioned auto body shop and cleaned my room.

All before midnight :)

See? Your mind is boggled, isn't it? I know.

And as I know most (i.e. probably none) of you are wondering what kind of wheels I am trolling around in these days, I'm gonna let you know that I went BIG. Even though Dipshit's insurance company paid for me to get the Standard Sebring, I decided to go premium (and pay an extra five dollars a day) to get a...wait for it...Honda Accord.

But she's beautiful, she really is. She's shiny and blue and, in her own compact car way, she reminds me of my Altima, so we are getting along swimmingly. I'm still not sure why its fun to drive a car that's not yours, even when I like my car better, but I am taking advantage of this "new car" business and driving Blue Beauty as much as possible...you know, in between working, doing laundry, straightening my locks, unpacking and cleaning my room.

Little Bitchcisco

I know, I know.

I haven't been here in forever. But did I or did I not leave with you some a-MAY-zing guest bloggers in my absence? Indeed, I did.

PLUS, guess how my lovely step-home, San Francisco, welcomed me back this time?





So yeah, I think - for the simple fact that someone ran into my parked car while I was gone just TWO weeks after it got broken into - that you should really forgive my absence. I'm sure the five of you that read this do.

New York was splendid, by the way! As was Jamie's oh-so-lovely post about it. I wish I had read your suggestions/had any time to do anything besides work and go to meetings while I was still there. But for the most part, the weather was bearable, my hotel (The Hudson) was splendid and my meetings went swimmingly - even The New York Times!

I flew from New York to Los Angeles to be with my family and a certain Cute Boy who happened to be frequenting the area this past weekend. Had Easter breakfast with my family at Benihana's (we're traditional like that), so that was splendid and finally made it back to the car-raping capital of the world, San Francisco, just yesterday right before work.

And now I am officially back in the swing of things. And by "in the swing of things", I mean up to my retinas in work, work and more work. I am leaving on Sunday, along with my boss and coworker, TCB, for Las Vegas. I doubt there will be much viva-ing, as we are going for a conference - a wireless conference, no less, so I expect a lot of nerds - myself included.

It should be fun though.

I am pretty sure I will get to see my boss drunk, which is always a good time. Last time we were at the same after-hours work event where he dabbled heavily in the libation selection, he sat me down and gave me the most inspiring pep talk known to recent college graduates in first-time jobs that they are not so sure about. That was about 9 months ago and I'm still here, so maybe if he gets drunk in Vegas, I'll be around for another year...but I'm not making any promises.

Back to my car situation (aka Further Evidence That San Francisco is a Little Bitch), I am not quite as freaked out as I think I should be or would at least expect myself to be in this situation. Luckily, said dipshit who ran into my parked vehicle as it sat innocently across the street from my house left a note...which makes me feel kind of bad for calling them a dipshit...but then again not, because...well, you saw the pictures. So anyways, I called mom today with Dipshit's insurance info and mom being the Mom (note capital "M") she is handled all the logistics for me. Today, after work, I am getting a sweet rental ride, and my car is getting towed and made pretty again tomorrow with absolutely no cost to me.

So when you see me trolling around Little Bitchcisco in my Enterprise Sedan, don't be jealous. My poor Altima had to get her ass kicked for me to win such a prize.

The Big Apple

While Miss Jenna is out and about rubbing elbows with all kinds of important business people in NYC for a few days, she asked me if I'd like to share some of my infinite wisdom with you all. Of course, by infinite wisdom, I mean inane ramblings.

I'm Jamie. I write over at Oh! How Lovely! It's a big mash of bad reality television, more puppy pictures than one can handle and just some all around rants and whinyness, just like every blog should be.

Anyway, I'm really hoping Jenna is having better weather in NY, than I am having here in Chicago. March 21st and we have snow. Snow! Last week, we have gorgeous 50 degree weather and now we are getting 9 inches of snow. I just don't think that is fair!

I, myself, have never been to New York. The closest I have been is the New York New York Hotel and casino and um, pretty sure that's not the same thing even if the casino is Central Park themed. A friend of mine is from New York and is moving back there this summer, so I will hopefully have the opportunity to go hang out for a few days. I know Jenna probably doesn't have time to live it up in the Big Apple since she is there for work, but here are things she should do if she gets the chance.

These are things I would totally do (and will do) if I were there!

First, I would hit up the Met. I love museums, The Field here in Chicago is my favorite. Walk around and just take in all the beautiful artwork. Right now, they have a exhibition called blog.mode: addressing fashion. How cool is that? Two of my favorite things - fashion and blogging. The Met isn't just a Gossip Girl hang out, there is actually stuff inside it.

Art makes me hungry. How about you? Okay, it really doesn't make me hungry, but I suspect I would be after all that walking around. I think some New York style pizza would hit the spot. Chicago is known for it's deep dish pizza, but I'm more of a thin crust kind of girl. I think New York and I would get along very well!

After eating all that pizza, I'd need to work it off. What better way to work off some calories than walking around and shopping! I'm sure the NYC boutique workers' eyes would flash money bags when they see me. The shopping in NY is like no other. I am most definitely one that will buy something if I want it, as long as I have the cash. I wouldn't mind eating ramen for weeks I had a new Miu Miu bag on my arm! On second thought, New York might not be the best place for me to visit. My bank account would hate me. I suppose I could walk it off with a stroll though Central Park, but I doubt I would look as pretty after since I won't have any fabulous new stuff.

Of course, I'd have to do Broadway. Maybe the Lion King? Or Little Mermaid. Or skip Disney...duh, RENT before it closes.

I'd also probably have to time my trip to coincide with Fashion Week. I would love to go to Fashion Week, sneak my way in to a show, maybe catch a glimpse of some fabulous designers! That would be the best thing ever.

I think I said "New York" or variations of if, more in the entry than I ever have in my entire life. But there you have it, New York done the Oh! How Lovely! way. Kind of touristy, but always fabulous.

Anything I left out?

Today Is Splendid Really

Well hello crazy blog reading kids.

I'm in a bit of a flop sweat with that lead in that a certain Brown Eyed Girl gave me. This green eyed girl isn't so sure that hilarity will ensue but I'll give it a shot.

While she is off living the fabulous life on the Sunny Coast, I'm here in the Midwest pushing my open toed shoes on 55 degree days. I'd call her a brat but really I like her too much. She's too fucking cute for me.

And I know she's working really hard.

Really.

Can I just tell you that this is the second time this week I was asked to guest blog? Of course I can tell you. You're kind of a captive audience or you can just click out of here and my unsusupecting ass will never the know the difference.

My mind is reeling at trying to comprehend that not only would someone read the crap I spew but now they want it on their blog too.

My little Brown Eyed Girl, I thought you had good taste. Really I did.

Seriously though. Two requests in one week blows me away. Although my other guest spot is an anonymous one which means I could be all ranty, bitchy, less than smiley and show my true colors in a faceless fashion.

Shut the fuck up! That? Is a dream like scenario for me folks.

I am cringing at my use of the F-Bomb on a blog that is not my own. I hope she doesn't hate me for it. But really? How could she?

This is rapidly turning into one of my not so famous posts that are about absolutely nothing.

So I will wrap up the nothingness with this little somethingness. BEG and I have something in common. We both work for boutique firms that do something along the lines of making other companies look really good publicly. There are certain perks involved in slaving away in a boutique atmosphere.

For me? It's being able to wear super cute clothes that don't come close to resembling a business suit. To hell with those straight jackets. Also? It's designer water with pretty lables. Some bottles are fizzy. Others aren't.

They never think twice if I order the pretty sticky notes or the fancy pens to make my handwriting look precious and girl-like.

And finally one really big perk is this. As you may know it's that time of year that I detest. Men's college basketball makes me violently ill. I try desperately to drown out the squeaking of their shoes, the dribble of the ball and that freaking annoying horn with cocktail after cocktail as my husband makes me watch the crap. It's not the game I hate, it's how it assaults my senses.

Really.

But my little boutiquey office plays the bracket every year. And! There are cash prizes. Momma loves her some cash.

While I picked Michigan to go all the way, WTF right? It's easy to pick the long shot when the prizes look like this:

1st place: $150
2nd: $125
3rd: $100
4th: $80
5th: $75
6th: $70
7th: $65
8th: $60
9th: $55
10th: $50
11th: $45
12th: $40
13th: $35
14th: $30
15th: $25
16th: $20
17th: $10
18th: $5
19th: $2
20th: $1
21st: $.01

It's only a dollar to play. So the worst I can do is lose 99 cents.

That's my kind of bet.

And since I'm the betting kind of girl today, I'm putting my money on you wanting this to end. So don't say I never gave you anything.

Thanks for playing along as I did a not so Splendid Really job of filling in for my cutie pie girl.

Happy Days.

P.S.

I have my very first EVER guest blogger here on Splendid Really! tomorrow!

I am beyond excited because she delivers the hilarity on a daily basis for me and I feel like I am having a celebrity on my blog.

Just don't get too used to her sharp wit and hilarious sarcasm. I don't want some fucking standard to live up to when I get back.

P.P.S. I have my very first face-to-face meeting with a lead reporter at The New York Times tomorrow morning at 11 AM EST.

You know the way it feels when you put Pop Rocks Candy in your mouth? That's what my nerves feel like right now.

Wish me luck :)

A Word of Advice...

Next time you leave to go on a four-day business trip to New York...don't write a post about your ex-boyfriend the night before.

And here's why.

Inevitably your current boyfriend (let's just call him "Cute Boy") will read the post when you are not around to reassure him that he is the love of your life and any "desired" friendship with an ex is just a desire to be friends with everyone and live a life devoid of animosity. Nothing more.

And inevitably, you will be flying to New York and realize you didn't even discuss said post with your ex and every comment he makes to you after you've left that is not dripping sugary-sweet with testimonies of undying love and aching heartbreak for your lost presence will seem to you like a not-so-subtly disguised jab at your oh-so-random blog about your ex.

And even though he never says anything (because, of course, you mentioned in the blog that he was secure enough to be okay with friendships with the ex, so he can't very well prove otherwise), you still feel like his feelings are a little bit hurt and he wants to say something, but he can't, and now he doesn't miss you as much as you could possibly miss him because you started a pseudo-fight before you left with a stupid, unnecessary blog about becoming friends with your ex.

But still, because he is your Cute Boy, he will call you a couple times a day and several times at night to tell you that - indeed! - he does miss you and he "loves you times infinity", even if he doesn't really understand why you ever mentioned the ex at all.

And you will adore him all the more for that. And you will wish that you could just take back what you said because it was never worth feeling like you hurt his feelings. Then of course you will realize (!) that, unlike spewing unnecessary words out of your mouth, you can delete blog posts...and then you realize that you cannot do this either because then the post you are currently posting would never make any sense.

So my advice, in short is this, unless you want to go through all of the above-mentioned hullabaloo, never EVER write a post about your ex-boyfriend before you leave for New York when you're already perfectly satisfied with the Cute Boy in front of you.

Did you miss me?

So I am leaving for New York tomorrow.  My first big-girl business trip.  I am equal parts excited and nervous as hell, but I think it will be great.  And I am staying in the Hudson Hotel, so I can just get wasted every night in their famous bar if it doesn't.

I kid, I kid.  Kind of...

Anyways, I can't guarantee that I will post every day.  Not that I already guaranteed that, because if I did, I'd be giving all of you your money back. Or probably not...but I'd be apologizing profusely.

But I digress, since I am not sure I will post every day and I am sick and tired of my own lame ass not blogging consistently, I have gotten in touch with a few of my favorite bloggers to see if they'll take over the duties for this week.  Keep your fingers crossed because I am trying to set up a great lineup!  In fact, you probably won't want me to come back.

But whatever, you'll get over it.

In other news, I ran into my ex-boyfriend's best friend today as I was leaving work.

Shit got awk.

He was on his way to my ex-boyfriend's house where they were going to get drunk celebrating Saint Patrick together.  Actually, it could've been more awkward.  In fact, I am sure that it was the majority of the time, but overall he was completely splendid to me and treated me like the quasi-friends we used to be...which says a lot about him...and made me think that maybe we are all grown-ups after all.

I have this tendency to want to be friends with everyone, including my ex and his friends and anyone who has ever been hateful to me in my life, even if we didn't end on the best of terms (which we didn't).

I suppose I am just non-confrontational that way.

And I hate that my ex-boyfriend hates me, because really?  Who wants to be hated?  At one point in our relationship, we were really great friends - I wish I could hang on to that with every friendship of mine that's fallen by the wayside.

Oh blimey.  This post has gotten far too fucking depressing for my taste.  Besides, I'm almost certain that my ex and I will be friends again one day, because we were too good of friends for us not to be.  See? A little positivity to spice things up!

(And for the first time in my life, I am dating a Boy who would be entirely secure and okay with that.  Weird - the being friends with my ex part, not the positivity.)

And for what I hope is a long time to come, I will still have the best Cute Boy and the best friends a girl could ask for to make up for (and then some!) the friendships I've lost along the way.

That's all for tonight!  I'll see you lovelies in New York!

WANTED: Witty Bloggers to Make My Splendid Really! Look Good

Sorry to be so lame lately.

It's been a long, exhaustive, not fun week and I apologize for neglecting you, but I missed you oh-so-much!

I can't promise I'll be better in the days to come - my best friend from home is here in San Francisco this weekend and I am determined to spend time with her, I will be in New York Tuesday through Friday of next week and then in LA Friday through Saturday, sooo...

The neglect is probably not going away for awhile...even though I have plenty to share with you!

Maybe I'll take some of you lovelies up on that offer to guest blog during the craziness that is my life right now.

Anyone still interested?

Me! News Weekend and An Exhibit in How San Francisco is NOT Keeping it Classy

So I am perfectly aware that I had grandiose dreams of actually blogging while I was away this weekend and therefore was not in need of the literary genius that are my favorite bloggers (see previous blog post).

And…yeah. Not so much.

I’ll be better next time, I promise.

So this weekend was everything I hoped for and more. As I walked out of my Southwest plane onto those perilously dangerous airplane stairs at the Burbank Airport, I breathed in the sunshine and warmth and smog and everything just felt…better. Every little thing that’s been bothering me lately (work and…well, mostly just work) just went away. And it was glorious.

And that’s just Reason #1 why I need to move out of San Francisco.

Here’s what I accomplished while I was in Los Angeles: while still working (because I still had to work remotely on Friday, you know), I got one client a briefing with the Los Angeles Times and I got another client a free speaking opportunity at a conference in New York (I also got the organizer of said conference to invite me to stay at her house in New York for the length of the event. Um, yeah. I’ll get right on that.).

And THEN I spent the rest of my weekend being entirely unproductive.

On Friday night, I went out to Roy’s and The Standard downtown with my best gal from San Diego – we’ll call her Songbird (because her voice reminds me of those singing birds from Snow White) – and my other San Francisco buddy, Tio Troll (don’t ask; there is a story behind these names). Even though there was a twenty dollar cover to go up on the roof (where the pool and the view and the good drinks and all the really, really, ridiculously good-looking people reside), we got wristbanded and sent up without so much as a dollar spent. We must just be that good-looking…or something.

Tio Troll and Me

On Saturday, I had a nice little “Girls Day” with mom – getting a mani/pedi (and painting my nails neon pink as a nice little heads-up to the job – “Look at my hot pink nails! You can’t hold me down!”) and then subsequently running around with her completing her multitudinous and varying errands. And Saturday night I spent watching “The Nanny Diaries” (I do NOT recommend it. I was so disappointed in ScarJo and Ms. Keys.) and finishing “Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert (if you’re one of three people who haven’t read it – like I was – I HIGHLY recommend it).



Oh and did I mention that I bought another book while I was at the airport because I have a serious (and nearly unhealthy) obsession with buying new books to read? I didn’t? Oh. Well, I did – and so I started reading that on Saturday night as well.

Finally, on Sunday, I went to Urth Caffe with my Songbird and we had a glorious three hour brunch in the SPLENDID sun (it was actually only about an hour and a half, but they make you wait SO long for your food – it felt like an eternity – so three hours is not too much of an exaggeration). Then my Bearer of Life and I went to the bookstore (yes, again. don’t judge me.) and I bought “The Essential Noam Chomsky” for my Boy. He’s so smart. It almost makes me feel inferior that he wants to read Noam Chomsky and I am counting down the days until Jen Lancaster’s next book comes out, but then I think about it just a moment longer and I realize who is REALLY the stupid one here – and it ain’t Jen and me.*

The rest of Sunday was a blur of mom’s fettucine alfredo, a two-hour nap on the couch, a brand spanking new episode of “Keeping Up With the Kardashians” (which I swear I only watched because NOTHING else was on) packing up my stuff, falling asleep again and then waking up a short four hours later to leave for the airport.

And my Monday? Well, so far so alright. My Boy picked me up from the airport and I missed his Cute Little Face, so that was a good start. But he picked me up in my car – which, oh by the way, got BROKEN INTO THIS WEEKEND !!

!!!

Did I forget to mention that? Of COURSE, San Francisco can’t let me have one weekend of pure bliss, relaxation and unproductivity in Los Angeles. She is such a jealous bitch.

So some trolls shattered the passenger side window of my car early Sunday morning and stole…nothing.

Thanks a lot, you fucking dicknoses!

Everyone seems to think I should be relieved that they didn’t steal anything, but really there was nothing of value to steal in my car, so I am pretty much just pissed that I just spent $1700 on my car in the past two weeks and now I have to get a new window. And of course, I blame this entirely on San Francisco because she and I have been going at it for awhile now and this did NOT make our living situation any better.

And that, my loveliest of readers, is Reason #2 why I need to move out of San Francisco.

T minus 11 days until I am in LA again…

*I kid, I kid. I really love Noam Chomsky, but I’ve got a few more chick-lit and self-help books to get out of the way before I crack open old Noam-y.

I'm Going Going Back Back to LA LA

I'm flying home to Los Angeles tomorrow !!!!

!!!

If I was really cool, I'd have a couple of you guest blog for me. I'd ask Maxie and Jamie, of course, since I stalk their own blogs so much and because they seem to be well-experienced guest bloggers. But I'd also of course have to ask Shar, because I think she is hilarious, Jess because she made this pretty blog and lots of other bloggers who, for now, will continue to remain in the dark as to how much I actually frequent their pages.

Not only am I not that cool, but I also:

A) will only be out of town for a few days, so I don't need as many guest bloggers as I would undoubtedly invite

and

B) even on my mini-vacay, I will probably still blog. i am just that cool.

I am almost done packing. And Cute Boy is in the living room watching Sister Act 2, waiting for me to stop straightening my hair and throwing mismatched clothes into my black, quilted duffel bag that I got for free by making a $25 purchase at Bath & Body Works...and pay attention to him.

Four days apart is rather hard for us. Don't you roll your eyes at me! He is really, really CUTE. So for now, I am off to get my four days worth of snuggle on.

See y'all on the flip side (aka LA !!)

!!!

Post-"Bitter is the New Black" Musings

I got home an hour ago and I still have work to do. But all I have wanted to do all day is finish reading “Bitter is the New Black” and considering that time away from work is MY time (or so I’d like to think when I have a delicious novel sitting in my bag – yes, I brought it to work with me – just waiting to be read), I just finished the SPLENDID tome that was Jen Lancaster’s first masterpiece and it makes me want to write, write and write some more, more than ever.

Yes, I realize that last sentence ran a little longer than even a run-on sentence should and I tried to shove six different thoughts into it, but you’re still reading, aren’t you? Leave me aloney.

So now that I am finished with the book, I am equal parts sad and contemplative. Sad that I have actually finished it and I don’t have a legitimate way to procrastinate from getting more work done (at home, mind you; I work my tail off from 9 to 5, thank you very much) and contemplative at the way the story ends.

Let me explain.

As I’ve told you guys before, I LOVE writing. You know I mean business when I use all capital letters and I really do LOVE writing. And I’ve always known that. But when I went off to college it became evident fairly quickly that a career in “writing” (in quotations because no college career advisor ever seemed to consider “writing” to be a legitimate career) didn’t bring home the bacon.

And I love bacon.

So I studied Communications – of the Mass variety, in particular, as that’s all they offer at Berkeley – and I ended up in PR. I’m not complaining. There’s plenty of writing to be had in PR and my job brings in the bacon…or, at least, it brings in those tiny little sausages, but I am working my way up.

Anyways, the plenty’o’writing that PR affords has turned out to be a lot of press releases, tradeshow speaking spots/industry award submissions (not unlike the ever-popular college admission, they are just as tedious as they sound) and…e-mails. Any writing is writing, I suppose.

But really I don’t.

While I am thankful that my boss recognized my penchant for penning things and assigned most writing tasks to me, the press releases and college – er, conference – submissions don’t really get the creative juices flowing.

So ever since I’ve become an “adult” (in quotations because I don’t seem to consider myself a legitimate “adult”), I have pined for the creative freedom of writing all the time about anything I want (which, more often than not, tends to be me) and have complained as such to anyone who would listen (who, more often than not, tends to be Cute Boy). Finally, Cute Boy and his roommate, Ryan (who claims he knew my writing was witty just from the Myspace comments and e-mails I sent him alone – I love Ryan) told me to just write every day. And thus, Splendid Really! was born. And I’ve been far more pleasant to be around ever since.

Not finished.

Ever since my little blog baby was born, I have been dying to write every day. I curse my job, Cute Boy, Comcast Internet service or whoever might stand in the way of my writing. I have begun having dreams of dancing Macbook Airs and writing in coffeeshops – sitting at a table with my lappy, a backwards Dodgers cap sitting precariously atop my head, a notebook at my side and a pencil clamped firmly between my teeth as I quickly type out my latest burst of witty genius.

Cute Boy has even dangled the carrot in front of my nose, offering to let me invade his all-important space and privacy by moving in with him (thereby cutting my rent in half) and even supporting me for a few months so I can just write and write and write some more. If he were already the successful professional photographer that I know he will be, I would SO take him up on that offer. In fact, I’d make him extend it by about 21 months; but alas, he is only twenty-two years old, works in a bar while he struggles to erect his own career, and already showers me with more support and devotion than I deserve, so his offer (though generous) is not an option right now.

Which brings me to my “Bitter is the New Black” contemplation. At the end of the book – SPOILER ALERT (although not really if you read the beginning of the book and then logically make the connection that Jen Lancaster is now a published author) – Fletch (Jen’s husband) is supporting her while she pursues her career as a writer full-time. Surprise, surprise, it works out and she publishes an incredibly witty and charming book which I couldn’t put down (I bet you didn’t see that coming).

So now I sit here contemplating how I can pursue that life, because it seems to be exactly the kind of life I want. And the coincidence is not lost on me that this splendid author’s name is Jen (as is mine), she loves to write and began pursuing this passion by starting a blog, and she loves the word “splendid”. I can only hope that we are also both, coincidentally, witty, well-read, published authors (Jen=present and future tense, me=currently only future).

So far I haven’t come up with much. I don’t yet have a husband to support me while I follow my dream and I’m not so sure I am willing (or able) to leave the stability of a full-time job and consistent paycheck (however small that paycheck may be)...not yet, anyway.

I am perfectly content to blog to your Google Reader’s content, but one day – probably very soon – I think I will want even more than that. If there were some way to make the exhiliration, creative release and happiness I feel writing to you every day and turn it into a career, I would sign on the dotted line right now. And I think Jen's done it. I just have to figure out how to get there.

Until then, I have another press release to write.

The Whore I Am or Whoreasaurus Rex

I am a magazine whore. Seriously. My living room collections rivals those found in hair and nail salons. I buy them like it’s my job.

But let’s be honest. I need to see what Nicole Richie’s baby looks like (and no, looking at the child in the grocery store line will not suffice – I must gaze upon the babe in the comfort of my OWN home), I need to know “150 Easy Ways to Go Green – In every room! For every Budget!”, it’s imperative that I find “Free Stuff & Great Deals – In This Issue on p. 134”, I’d like to learn a few “No-Cook Recipes for Healthy Meals” and I’m a little intrigued as to why Angelina Jolie stood Jennifer Aniston up at the “Night Before” Oscars party. So, you see, I don’t have much of a choice.

I’m perfectly aware that I would be far less worried about money all the time if I purchased fewer (or no) magazines (or books, for that matter, but those are far easier to justify) all the time. Being that I am aware of that fact and still choose to buy them says to me that they are, in some small way, contributors to my happiness and well-being.

Little, glossy, 150-page contributors.

I can see the poorly-hidden disdain in Cute Boy’s eyes whenever we pass a bookstore and I can’t get to the corner without going inside and purchasing at least two books and one magazine.

But it’s these little things that make me happy and he should consider himself lucky that a Magazine/Book Whoreasaurus is the only kind of Whore I am.

The Melodramatic Life & Times of Me

It’s only Tuesday and I am fucking exhausted.

My apologies for not having written lately. I remember not too long ago I was a spry, young blogger, anxious to post whenever and wherever I could. And while I am still itching to write, my bones have weakened and my spirit has been crushed under the inevitable adversity of life as a grown-up.

Ahh, it feels good to be melodramatic.

I didn’t write Sunday because I was busy having a fabulous day. I woke up early with the sun (literally) shining in my face, I had brunch at Cute Boy’s restaurant and when he got off work, we walked all around San Francisco in the glorious sunshine. Of course, I was wearing my mocs.

And yesterday, I didn’t write because I had a horrible, no good, very bad day. Suffice it to say, my life will be changing in a big way in a few short months (well, in a big way to ME – I’m melodramatic, remember?). I know I am being all cryptic and weird and altogether uninteresting if I don’t give you any more information, but you’ll know soon enough, so kick back and relax until then.

In other news, I am going home on Friday! Oh Sweet Caroline, I am so excited to go home! I wish I was bringing the Boy with me, but unfortunately he’s gotta work his corner (Church & Market) on weekends, so I’ll be off gallivanting in the southern California sunshine while he’s turning tricks. But at least by being home I can keep an eye on my mother and all the hoodlums out to put a cap in her ass. There will be NONE OF THAT while I’m around.

Oh and one more thing – I bought a new book on the wonderful day that was Sunday and its hil-freaking-arious. It’s called “Bitter is the New Black” and it’s the slightly-fictionalized memoir of a woman named Jen Lancaster, who was a self-proclaimed bitch who got was coming to her. But let’s just be honest, the bitch is funny. She makes me want to be a little bitchier…I’m just sayin’… I would’ve read the whole thing by now if I didn’t have a demanding job and a Cute Boy to pay attention to. So buy it. You won’t regret it.



Since my dream of being a professional blogger has yet to come to fruition, I must get back to my real, full-time, paying job. I’ve missed you all these past two days.

I promise to be better and all that jazz,
Brown Eyed Girl

Patience is a Virtue

I think I have blogger’s block.

Every time I think of something to write, I just think, “No, that’s stupid. Nobody wants to read about that. You’re an idiot.”

Maybe I have blogger’s self-esteem issues.

I suppose I could talk to you guys about the fight – nay, two fights - Cute Boy and I have had in the past twelve hours. But I don’t really quite understand what they were about yet. And instead of trying to figure out what might be wrong with him - because that’s easy and I can come up with all kinds of conjectures as to why I’m right and he’s wrong – I am trying to be realistic and figure out what’s wrong with me, since I can more accurately pinpoint that problem and it probably has more to do with our arguments than I want to realize.

So this is the diagnosis: I need more patience. I seriously do. I am also easily irritated, which I think is linked to my inevitable need for more patience.

The general synopsis of our first argument last night was that he did one thing that irritated me and then everything that happened after that, whether it was something he said or someone on the street taking my parking spot, just irritated me further. Cute Boy pointed out that I seem to get easily irritated with him even though I can be just as obnoxious and annoying sometimes and he never seems to get irritated with me.

I don’t get it. I don’t want to be easily aggravated! I want to be easy and laid-back and cool and the world’s perfect girlfriend! But of course, Cute Boy’s pointing out that he did something right in our relationship and I failed at it miserably…well, that only irritated me further.

I don’t really know how to come by this whole patience thing. I’ve always known that I need more of it. I’m a prime example of road rage behind the wheel and my brother’s teasing/constant obnoxiousness quickly puts me over the edge. But how does one become more patient?

Cute Boy’s and my second argument today was when we started having a discussion (nay, disagreement) regarding films and film critics, which quickly turned into a discussion in elitism. I figured that being more patient required the conscious decision to approach discussions with more tact than I had previously, and I tend to get a little passionate when I feel strongly about a point of view (as does he), so I reminded myself:

“Be patient. Hear him out. Try to understand where he’s coming from and what he’s trying to say and make your argument rationally.”

And I was sure that I did! But as soon as the discussion came to a close, he said:

“Are you mad at me? In your eyes, it looks like you’re mad at me.”

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t!

I still feel that I need to be more patient. I know I haven’t changed in a day. And I’m still relatively sure that the best way to acquire patience (which is a virtue, after all) is to be conscious of situations where patience is needed the most and simply…be it (patient, that is).

I guess I need to be careful of what my eyes say too. This truly feels like a total personality overhaul, but I suppose it’s for the better.

Wish me luck.

Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall - Who's the Lamest of Them All?

You wanna know how I know I’m lame?

When it’s Friday and I get off work, I am not excited to go out, get shitty drunk and spend my Saturday hungover.

Oh no, my friends, oh no!

Today – a perfectly good Friday for getting shitty drunk - I got off work and I was excited to pick up my car ($1700 later), come home, finish up my laundry, wash the pile of dishes in the sink, clean up my room, pay my bills, order a pizza and watch a movie until it’s time for Cute Boy to get home from work.

I am so my mother’s child.

P.S. And in an effort not to be EXTRA lame by only leaving one lame post today, I promise to get back to you with Facts #21-30 in my “100 Things About Me” after I finish watching “The Assassination of Jesse James”.

See? Not so lame after all, huh?

UPDATE: I take it back. Today I am going to be extra lame.

It's Beginning to Feel A Lot Like Easter!

So my mom e-mails me today. She’s a big fan of my blog, probably because she gets such splendid shout-outs on it, but mostly because she is a big fan of anything I do. I suppose that’s just the nature of moms.

Anyway, she read my blog and told me not to worry, gang members always want to kill the police, it’s nothing new, she’ll be fine, etc. etc.

So I guess I am not so worried anymore. Although, my worry had already started to fade. The more I envision an encounter between my mother and a “homeboy”, the more I see said homeboy getting his arse kicked.

As some of you noted, my mom is a pretty tough lady. The reason I never got in trouble growing up is because you only have to see my mom mad once to know you NEVER want to see it again. I’m just sayin’…

In other news, the lovely Miss Jamie wrote a great post today and I couldn’t agree more with what she had to say.

First of all, I am completely entertained with pretty much every post every one of you writes. Pictures of dogs, “Would you rather Wednesdays?” and tales of irritation are all amusing to me and all make my day in some way or another.

Secondly, I truly hope none of you expects to be entertained by my wit and whimsy in every post every day. It won’t happen.

To be quite honest, I write this blog for me, not for you. It is icing on the cake that approximately four of you read it, actually enjoy it occasionally and comment to let me know as much. I couldn’t be happier about that. But it’s (literally and figuratively) all about me and when I write my novel in November – well that, my dears, will be all for you.

Now going back to my mom’s e-mail, she also asked me what I want in my Easter basket this year. Yes, that’s right, my Easter basket. I am twenty-three years old and my mom will still give me an Easter basket and I couldn’t be happier about that.

Let me tell you how I think I swung this one: my younger brother is six years younger than me. And my mother, being the democratic disciplinarian that she is, has always tried to make things more or less equal between the two of us, even if that’s not always plausible with two children aged six years apart. So when my brother was fourteen and I was twenty, he was still getting an Easter basket so in all fairness, so was I.

Now my brother is almost seventeen and I am well on my way to senility, but my mom is still going to give us Easter baskets, I think just for the sentimentality of it all. Plus, since I live so far away now and don’t ask her for quite as much money as I used to, she likes to give me gifts whenever I come home. Easter is just another excuse.

The greatest part of all about these Easter baskets is that, as we’ve grown older (and less deserving of Easter baskets), the better the baskets have gotten. When we were younger, they were only ever filled with candy and small toys like wind-up yellow chicks. These past few years, they’ve been filled with DVDs and money.

It’s almost too splendid.

So, anyways, mom wants to know what I want in my basket this year. She said to give her plenty of ideas.

I said: “Am I allowed to ask for something big?”

M: “Well, not too big. It has to fit in the basket.”

She’s so cute ☺

“No mom, not big in actual size, big in value.”

M: “Oh sure, give me a list of everything you might want.”

So this is the list I am sending her:

- Macbook Air (big in value, definitely not big in actual size)

- Borders Gift Card

- Starbucks Gift Card

- Plain ‘ol money, in general

- Outback Steakhouse Gift Card (those never get old)

- Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups (shaped like eggs for the occasion)

- Cadbury Cream Eggs

- “No Reservations” DVD

- “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” DVD

Obviously, I want the lappy the most. Obviously, I won’t get it. I highly doubt my mom anticipates me asking for a $2,000 gift for my Easter basket. But, in my defense, I asked if I was allowed to ask for something big and she walked right into that trap.



Maybe, having read my blog, she will be so inspired by my dream of writing all day every day on my Macbook Air (with an occasional jog in the sun) and want to contribute to that…kind of like an investor.

It’s just a thought.

Livin' In a Gangsta's Paradise

I miss my family like crazy - my mom, in particular – this I think we have established. And being that it was basically just my mom, my brother and I growing up, I feel especially protective of them both (but mostly just my mom, since my brother has a tendency to be an obnoxious poohead).

So I am talking to my mom this evening and she’s telling me about her “crazy” week at work last week. As a little sidenote for those of you who don’t know me personally, my mom is a homicide detective, so “crazy” weeks tend to be par for the course.

Anyhoo, her crazy week consisted of a homicide on Wednesday (man was carrying his two year old daughter down the street, car pulls up, suspect jumps out, shoots the man point blank, baby is dropped but okay, man dies later at the hospital). As much as that sounds like a crazy day in the 9 to 5 work life of me, I suppose that’s just another day on the job for mi madre. But worry not, it gets crazier. 

So some woman snatches this baby who fell when the dude got shot and takes off. No one knows who or where she is until she shows up at a hospital hours later, saying that her baby is acting funny and not mentioning the – oh, I don’t know – DEAD MAN WHO WAS HOLDING HER WHEN SHE GOT DROPPED ON THE SIDEWALK!

So little Miss Not-So-Good-With-the-Details turns out to be the baby’s mother and somehow this is all connected to a very prominent gang in my old neighborhood (I don’t think I told y’all yet that I was hood. That was coming in Facts #21-30.)

So the gang unit for the police department tracks down these vile, villainous, murderous, almost-baby-hurters – one of the geniuses has a handgun and the other one has an AK-47 – and what do they do when they see the cops? They start shooting, of course.

Now let me tell you a little something about the police (trust me, I have insider experience here). They don’t like it when you try to kill them. It’s SO weird, but they’re just funny like that. In my vast experience with them, it never goes over well. Go figure.

So this little sitcha-ation, something the coppers like to call an “officer-involved shooting”, does not end up quite like Gangsta #1 and Gangsta #2 anticipated, being that one of them got arrested and the other one got…dead.

Great news, right? At least for us crime-free, baby-lovin’ folk.

Not so much.

Because the police dared to kill a member of this gang – one of their “homeboys” as my mother so adorably refers to them – this group of hooligans has “declared war” on the police station at which my mother resides.

First of all, let’s address their terminology. Yes, that’s right, they “declared war”. Really, homeboys? Really?! I don’t want to be quick to judge though. Their cause could be just – I’ve heard my mom’s station has nuclear weapons.

Secondly, let’s address the fact that I am now fucking terrified for my mother’s life. Seriously, I have been trying to sit here and get work done for my actual job tomorrow, and all I can think about is how some tatted-up fuckerface is going to try and hurt my mom because another cop defended his own life by shooting up some other tatted-up fuckerface who had already killed someone else before his own death!

I ask my mom: “So are you in any real danger right now?”

M: “Well, I suppose I have to be more on my guard now. I mean, you know how the station is - anyone can just pull into the backlot at any time and the backdoor is pretty much always propped open. They haven’t really increased security much.”

“So you guys don’t think they’ll be stupid enough to do anything to the station then?”

M: “Not necessarily. I was just telling my partner the other day how they could walk into the lot at night, put a bomb under one of these cars and take out the whole station.”

“SO, UM, HOW EXACTLY ARE YOU STAYING SAFE?!”

M: “I just watch my back. Make sure no one follows me home at night. You know…I’m just careful. It’s a pretty scary time at work right now.”

And that was it. 

Thanks, mom. It’ll be really fun trying to fall asleep at night and, oh I don’t know, live life as usual for the next five years (that’s at least how long these “declared wars” last, right?)

Of course, I immediately told her that I would really appreciate it if she transferred stations. She said she couldn’t because of some bulhooey about loving her job.

Fuck. That. Shit. Besides the obvious fact that I tend to be a selfish human being, I don’t think I could ever love a job enough to literally risk my life just going to work.

The moral of the story is: don’t let your parent pursue work in the police and/or firefighter industry (I’ve heard that’s a dangerous one too). I am now terrified for my mother’s life and even more worried that I am wasting away precious time up here while my family (and a good number of my closest friends!) are all hours away, next to some AK-47 wielding hoodlums.

Sweet. That was a great end to my Monday.

In other, not quite-so-dramatic news, my oh-so-informed younger brother tells me that Huckabee (some Republican presidential candidate; I think his first name is Mike) will appoint Chuck Norris as his Secretary of Defense if he is elected president. Oh and my brother added that he will be voting for Mr. Huckabee for abovementioned reason.

This is stupid for two reasons. First of all, my brother is not even seventeen yet. He obviously cannot vote, though I tend to think he legitimately feels he will cast his vote for (Mike?) Huckabee in the next presidential election. Also, is it even possible for this Huckabee character to make Chuck Norris his Secretary of Defense? Are there NO qualifications for such an undertaking? If not, then that, in itself, is Stupid Reason #2.

I’m off to cite the prayer of my childhood:

Please God, keep the bad guys away from my mommy.

The Weekend Wrap-Up

This weekend was all kinds of splendid.

I had the best of intentions and was so sure that I was going to blog while I was in Napa. I even lugged my lappy along for the trip, but alas when we got to our (splendid!) hotel room, the “complimentary wireless Internet” was as slow as a slug and I had no patience for such shenanigans, so I decided to take a two-day break from the blog-osphere.

Anyways, to sum up, Cute Boy and I went to three different wineries on Saturday (Domaine Carneros, Pine Ridge and [Some Name I Can’t Remember] Grove) and worked ourselves up a nice buzz. Then we showed up to our hotel, settled in and ended up taking a three-hour nap (well, I did anyway). It was perfect.

Yesterday we traipsed around Calistoga and got mud bath treatments and full-body massages at some spa. Heaven. It was pure heaven. Which makes going back to work on Monday even worse than it normally is - blimey.

In other news, I didn’t read much of my new Obama book this weekend. To make up for that, I read it aloud in the car as Cute Boy drove me to work this morning. He was really cute – pretending like he cared and wanted me to keep going even though I know being read to (out of a political book, no less) is one of the more abominable activities to have to endure.

I couldn’t even stand being read to when I was younger, demanding that my mother just give me the book if she wasn’t going to pronounce “Ramona Quimby” correctly. God, if you want anything done right, you just have to do it yourself.

My next big trip is to New York in about three weeks and then to Las Vegas about a week after that. Both trips are for work, but I’m sure I can fit some gambling, boozing and high-class hookers in there somewhere. I’m a multitasker, after all.

"100 Things About Me" - Things 11 through 20

11. Macaroni and Cheese is my all-time favorite dish of all time. I know that sounded redundant. I’m emphasizing my point. It never gets old to me. And I make a pretty mean dish of it myself. My little bestest from home – LC, we’ll call her (not unlike The Hills “character” – and yes, I said character) – doesn’t even really like M’n’C because she finds it “too cheesy” (yeah, I don’t get it either). But she has, of course, declared my version “just right” – just one of many reasons she nabbed the coveted Bestest title.

12. I used to have bangs. Really, really sweet bangs when I was twelve to fourteen years of age. Now if you’ll remember I had (have) curly hair, so my bangs were of course…curly. Little spiral curls (approx. 5 or 6 of them) that just sat on my forehead. And of course, since I had to put gel in my crazed mess of a mane, they were kind of, sort of…glued to my forehead. Maybe someday I’ll show you a picture…today is not that day.

13. I hate snow. I’m sorry, but I just do. Does that make me lame? I think not. It’s ice, for god’s sake. Lots and lots of packed ice. And ice, last time I checked, is cold and hard – great for cooling off my beer on a hot summer’s day, not for my ass when I inevitably fall on it while “playing” in the snow. Take me to the beach, please.

14. I worked at Abercrombie & Fitch on 3 separate occasions. Not my proudest moments. It was simultaneously boring/embarrassing/lame/easy money. And I’m always down for some easy money…well, not always.

15. I have a little soft spot in my heart for Tori Spelling. I think she is one of those people that literally everyone in the world (including her husband, baby and myself) find completely obnoxious, but she embraces it and puts herself out there to be criticized anyway. I’m always a sucker for some good, ol’ fashioned self-destruction.

16. I have a younger half brother on my mom’s side. He’s almost seventeen years old, about 6’4”, 240 pounds. Football is his life. Seriously. His Myspace told me so. We may not have the same dads (thank god, as his is all kinds of douchebag…you know, compared to my Father of the Year), but he’s tortured me for seventeen long years so you could say we’re pretty close. I know this much – if you ever tried to mess with me, he’d sit on you. And we don’t want that, now do we?

17. I graduated from UC Berkeley in May 2007 with an undergraduate degree in Mass Communications. I don’t have a whole heck of a lot of school spirit. I mean, I am proud I went there and all, but I could care less if our football team wins the [Sugar, Orange, Texas, Rose, etc.] Bowl. Seriously, it’s UC Berkeley. Who really goes for the football?

18. I love tulips. They are just so prim, proper and perfect-looking. And look at that - cause for alliteration, too! I wish I were more like a tulip :/

19. I agree with this.

20. I’m a huge Dodgers fan. Okay, that’s kind of a lie. But I’m from Los Angeles, so I have a little Blue spot in my heart for the Dodgers. And whenever someone brings up baseball, I have to say, “Fuck the Padres! Dodgers all the way, man!” even though I haven’t been watching either team play. And the Dodgers usually suck. It’s a loyalty thing. Try to understand.

To-Buy List

I am buying this next Tuesday.



Cute Boy will more than likely try to talk me out of purchasing a CD, since he's all about downloading that shit for free.

But I don't care. I've got to support Ms. Jackson...'cuz I'm nasty.