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.