tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6919884128791185562023-11-16T03:20:08.154-08:00Girl About Towna bit of scribble from the left coast. (except, now it's from the east coast.) girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-37348853661204752152018-04-05T07:20:00.001-07:002018-04-05T12:13:46.430-07:00Long Time Gone (But, back with a pithy product review!)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzLUR5MgZ0O368QyQKGuH7ra_xNX44dwcYser1lDg7JH5uh0knCQ-yesy7Lvr6qVxXQfKPwfZ4U2bni42-MURweX8kvPgHiTjd5PMplzKZ_jsQ_cgdMCIXkSfM4XIpVCF7Zl8uMUl0VY/s1600/Apricot+Body+Oil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzLUR5MgZ0O368QyQKGuH7ra_xNX44dwcYser1lDg7JH5uh0knCQ-yesy7Lvr6qVxXQfKPwfZ4U2bni42-MURweX8kvPgHiTjd5PMplzKZ_jsQ_cgdMCIXkSfM4XIpVCF7Zl8uMUl0VY/s1600/Apricot+Body+Oil.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's been a REALLY long time since I've posted and holy heckballs has my life changed. Girl About Town, living in LA, has become Girl About the House, living in PA. And, the only dates I can write about are playdates.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Phew.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I now have thought-fodder of a different sort to delight your days. No longer will I write of short, <a href="http://girlabouttownblog.blogspot.com/2009/02/to-live-and-date-in-la.html" target="_blank">angry Italians</a> or eerie <a href="http://girlabouttownblog.blogspot.com/2011/05/to-live-and-date-in-la-sequel.html" target="_blank">Hollywood writers in flashy sports cars</a>. Because now my fun and comic relief comes from a short, happy, part-Italian kid and an ex pro soccer player/recruiter in a silver Nissan. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And, reviews. I have reviews. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, here goes...right out of the starting gate, my review of something very near and dear to my hot bath-loving heart: <a href="https://www.dermstore.com/product_Apricot+Body+Oil_19070.htm?gclid=EAIaIQobChMI4P3pg5Oj2gIViAOGCh3LZws4EAQYASABEgKlo_D_BwE&scid=scplp19070&sc_intid=19070&utm_source=fro&utm_medium=paid_search&utm_term=skin+care&utm_campaign=500221" target="_blank">Eminence Organic Apricot Body Oil</a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's meant to be a daily body-lotion-like body oil, but just, no. After a week of trying to use it as is was intended (Damn you, Goop article) my scaly skin resembled that of the creature-dude from The Shape of Water only slightly less sexy and dramatic. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But then this happened---> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Totally out of Egyptian clay for my nightly soak, I next-best-thinged it, with the ill-purchased body oil. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Cue the angel voices.<b> </b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It smelled <i>ah-mazing</i> while steeping in hot tub water, and transformed Creature-from-the-Black-Lagoon into born-after-1995-and-lunches-on-Robertson. Also, it's a clean product with no gunky junk in it- check plus. A small Alice-in-Wonderland-Drink-Me sized bottle is a whopping $29 but, as it is oil and not body lotion (ahem) it lasts a good long time- check plus plus. Color me hook, line and sinkered on this product.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Now, go forth! Pour, soak and conquer. But...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Legal-ish stuff: </b> <i>I do not have any affiliations or partnerships with any products (yet!) and I am not paid to write about anyone or any thing (sad clown face). All reviews are just my opinions. Also, I am not a doctor nor am I recommending any product. I''m just a girl in the world, sharing her favs and not-so-favs. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, if you try a product and it causes you to break out in nickel-sized lesions that mutate into some oozy version of the Ebola virus don't come crying to me in emojis and all caps. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Love and Rockets,</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Girl About Town</span><br />
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<br />girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-40025763935420038732015-07-01T12:13:00.000-07:002015-07-01T12:37:25.103-07:00If the Spirit Moves You (or Smells Like Christine Spirit)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WkNRre7AXzfpxtdRYLBDLYyJgQfSJBko_UHbjEoXhOfRl_HadxT3BErhDvLZCTe4aBWfOH2sgx-chb23cK8m8Lj0_OJCfqj8l7KqgcUGJpMx7p93935yYXztg_B976EqiaNhBc1_-C8/s1600/ghost+crossing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WkNRre7AXzfpxtdRYLBDLYyJgQfSJBko_UHbjEoXhOfRl_HadxT3BErhDvLZCTe4aBWfOH2sgx-chb23cK8m8Lj0_OJCfqj8l7KqgcUGJpMx7p93935yYXztg_B976EqiaNhBc1_-C8/s200/ghost+crossing.jpg" width="200" /></a>My dead grandmother is living my bathroom.<br />
Wait, oh my gosh, that came out all wrong.<br />
My dead grandmother WAS living in my bathroom.<br />
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<b>There, much better.</b><br />
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I knew she was there because I smelled her. Not so much her, as her apartment. Her sweet,old, hard-to-describe apartment smell that was something like: salami and cheese and homemade pizza and house coats and plastic tablecloths and Jean Nate' and just...Nana.<br />
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<b>And, since I already sound like a loon...</b><br />
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I might as well admit that once I had her, I didn't want to let her go. So, I locked her in. Yes, yes, I know that's insane. Everyone knows ghosts can float through walls. But, still.<br />
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<b>I hadn't seen her in years so I planned to keep her</b>.<br />
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Shockingly, there is an awkward side to housing one's deceased grandmother. For one, guests can't use the bathroom. You know...in case they release Nana.<br />
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<b>That wasn't always popular.</b><br />
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For two, I started to fear Nana had come for a reason. Why had she chosen to visit ME (aka, chicken liver), given my well-documented disdain for (incredible fear of) all things supernatural (including but not limited to: poltergeists, apparitions, electronic voice phenomenon, the movie Rosemary's Baby, Ouija boards, unexplained noises, people talking about unexplained noises, haunted houses, the Haunted House ride at Disney World, channeling, possession, Jason, Michael, Carrie and Casper.) Why not haunt my sister?! She's brave (clearly touched) and strong (undeniably coo coo) and watches things like The Shining all alone with all the lights off (animal. crackers.)! And, why now? After all these years??! <br />
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<b>Maybe she just came by to check on me</b>. <b>Yes, that must be it.</b><br />
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Or mayyyyybeeee...she was trying to tell me something (gulp.)! Like..."Be a good daughter and move back to PA!" or "Stop using jarred spaghetti sauce!" I considered asking her but I was terrified she'd answer.<br />
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<b>Mercifully...</b><br />
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Nana never revealed the reason for her visit and moved on a month later, just when I was getting really used to having her. I reckon she hi-tailed it back to the great beyond upon realizing my roommate (and her over-cologned, under-achieving boyfriend) was bat crap bonkers.<br />
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<b>Can't say I blame her; I barely made it out alive. </b><br />
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Today, I am happy to report that Nana still passes through my new residence from time to time, weaving her scent and reminding me of how wonderful she was.<br />
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<b>But, Nana, in case you are reading this blog over my shoulder (and, I sincerely hope you are not.)...</b><br />
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I adore you. But, I do not...let me be clear, DO NOT wish to actually see you. Or, hear you. Also, kindly refrain from levitating objects or flashing lights. I'd really hate to have to move again (I kinda like THIS roommate). ;)<br />
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<b>I am, however, happy to smell your sweet Nana scent, anytime.</b><br />
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And, if you come across my Nana McKechan on your travels, please bring her to the states for a visit. I'd love to have her, too! As long as she abides by the above-mentioned rules.<br />
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girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-33902208170941963202012-05-10T21:39:00.001-07:002012-05-10T21:39:52.231-07:00Eleven Things I Learned in 2011<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFnh3vCQeozie0KkmvmhAgOKPzxc4zEO8S1_88SeYsHi6VIHZbyrTuuZd4CbkCfsIe5lY0Xnr-8ptIOjr9Y4wn_ydxOWdGz3aFPh6jkoG7UEhTksRPksqUMgRVtKLHZuDHUdcZVV1No1o/s1600/cirque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFnh3vCQeozie0KkmvmhAgOKPzxc4zEO8S1_88SeYsHi6VIHZbyrTuuZd4CbkCfsIe5lY0Xnr-8ptIOjr9Y4wn_ydxOWdGz3aFPh6jkoG7UEhTksRPksqUMgRVtKLHZuDHUdcZVV1No1o/s200/cirque.jpg" width="131" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">This post is a little late because I'm very busy and important and I haven't had the time. Except...I've managed to watch every single episode of Gossip Girl this season, so..no. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Ok, let's do this. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Eleven Things I learned in 2011</b>:</span></div>
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<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">I choose wine by the cuteness of the label and by how well it matches my kitchen. Boom.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span></li>
<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">You can miss a dog as much as you miss a human. </span></li>
<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">It takes exactly half an episode of Long Island Medium to become addicted. And, six and a half seconds to become a crying loser. </span></li>
<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">America really does have talent. </span></li>
<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">The actor's lifestyle is not for the lily-livered. </span></li>
<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">LA is very small world. (and yet, I never seem to run into McDreamy...) </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span></li>
<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">"Loving What Is" (Byron Katie) is just the Serenity Prayer, expanded. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span></li>
<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Cirque Du Soliel people are VERY bendy.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span></li>
<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">You CAN learn to like something you've hated your whole life. Even when it's yogurt.</span></li>
<li style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">Michale Cerra and Jessie Eisenberg are actually the same person.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">My thumb is not black after all. It's gangrene. RIP, plants number 1 thru 7. </span></span></li>
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<br />girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-58137054420380865172011-05-21T08:44:00.000-07:002011-05-22T11:23:18.831-07:00To Live and Date in LA: The Sequel<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfDaBEvSP4jY4rXhWBiAGJpdUBqvzqVanVJ2nEYHLowbMzcS6iB_V1NMdZi8pxwUNLnOqhC1l2oySDKTSGPilbTDiwNkDIvMzUeBHLY1FXHeWNh5V9b6rf2avZaHYsgGVNd7nJnHKb1ME/s1600/BLACK+PORSCHE.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfDaBEvSP4jY4rXhWBiAGJpdUBqvzqVanVJ2nEYHLowbMzcS6iB_V1NMdZi8pxwUNLnOqhC1l2oySDKTSGPilbTDiwNkDIvMzUeBHLY1FXHeWNh5V9b6rf2avZaHYsgGVNd7nJnHKb1ME/s320/BLACK+PORSCHE.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609287014881058850" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I met him at my favorite grocery store. Johnny. We didn't say more than 20 words to each other...but we had scheduled a date.<br /><br />Or so I thought.<br /><br />He pulls his shiny black Porsche in front of me as I walk out. He'd been eying me in the canned foods section and I'd given him a smile as I passed, thinking he was kinda cute.<br /><br />"You have a fantastic smile," he says. "You have a fantastic car," I say. "Can I take you out for a drink?" he says. "Sure!" I say. We exchange first names and phone numbers and before I finish my five-minute drive home he has texted. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Awww, that's nice," I smile.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Johnny</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">Very nice meeting you :) </span><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Me: </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >thanks, you too!</span><br /><br />Johnny is a writer on a very popular television show and was a writer on a #1 show that ended a few years ago. Johnny is also a writer of text messages. Johnny wants to know everything there is to know about me from birth to present day, via text. I avoid questions, attempting repeatedly to meet him out (at a very public place) to talk instead, but Johnny is having none of it. He wants to text. And text. And text.<br /><br />The next night...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Johnny</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >What's your last name. Are you on Facebook?<br /></span><br />Hmmm. Weird. We haven't even met in person yet and he wants to Facebook me. Ok, I reason. Everyone's on Facebook; I guess this is normal. I stupidly give him my last name (instantly regretting it and flashing back to a Lifetime movie involving the murder of a girl who stupidly gave her full name to an on-line predator.)<br /><br />I search for Johnny only to find that he is not actually ON Facebook. Johnny has a Facebook page. But, his page has no picture and absolutely no information (except that he's a television writer, which is how I know it's him), wall posts or activity at all. I am irrationally relieved that there aren't three names on the profile (John Wilkes Boothe, John Wayne Gacey, Lee Harvey Oswald...you get the gist.), but it's a stalker page, nonetheless.<br /><br />Awesome.<br /><br />Feeling like the girl in the horror film whose murder you want to assist with because she's THAT stupid, I quickly make my name unsearchable.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Johnny</span><span style="font-style: italic;">- <span style="font-family:georgia;">hey, i can't find you on Facebook. Friend me so I can look at your page. I'm going to google you now.</span></span><br /><br />Hold. The. Phone. Or drop it...which is what I did. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Um.....what? </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >You want to google me??? That's a little creepy.</span><span><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Johnny:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-family:georgia;">What? Why? That's what people do these days. Why are you freaking out? </span></span> (oh, I don't know...I guess the kill room in your basement wasn't what I had in mind when we said we'd meet for drinks...)<br /><br />Crap, I've pissed off Dexter.<br /><br />I put the phone down and back away slowly...expecting him to actually walk through the screen holding the length of rope and roll of duct tape he purchased earlier today. You know, the evidence the police will later find in his trunk along with my DNA.<br /><br /><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Johnny:</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Where did you go? You haven't answered. Are you on IMDB? Where did you go to college?</span></span><br /><br />I can't block him...and I can't even ignore him. Because, Johnny is a writer on a very popular television show. And, in television, the writer is God. And, God better not have an axe to grind with you (or into you) when you audition in front of him or you'll never been seen again. By anyone. Ever. Much less book his show. You never piss off the writer. Or the psycho.<br /><br />Thinking of my acting career and the fact that it will be slightly harder to book while in pieces in his freezer, I decide to respond. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Early day tomorrow...gotta run. But, have a good night and pen something brilliant tomorrow.<br /><br /></span></span>Cordial. Acknowledges his talent. But, not encouraging. Not engaging. Perfect.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Johnny:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Oh...ok. Yeah, you too. I'll try.</span></span><br /><br />And, just like that, the horror film ends. For the night.<br /><br />Over the next 2 months, Johnny randomly texts the word- <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">hi.</span> </span>I don't know why, but I have always found it eerie when people just text- <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >hi</span>. I wait the appropriate you're-so-weird-but-I-can't-be-rude-to-you-in-case-you-kill-me-or-worse-yet-blackball-me 24 hour period and text back, <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >hi</span>. (hey, he started it!)<br /><br />Silence.<br /><br />A week later...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Johnny</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">hi</span>.<br /><br /></span>Goosebumps. Check the locks.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >hi</span>.<br /><br />Silence.<br /><br />At this point, I know he's either losing interest or plotting my demise. I give up my favorite Beverly Hills grocery store and keep an eye out for shiny black Porsches. There are almost no black Porsches in Beverly Hills. (That, Miss Morrisette, is irony. A fly in your chardonnay, is not.).<br /><br />Two weeks later...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Johnny</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >Where have you been?</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">I haven't heard from you. Wanna meet me for a drink?</span> </span><br /><br />Annnnd, there it is.<br /><br />So, i do what any strong, capable, woman of the new millennium would do. I make up a fake boyfriend. A big one. One whose bodybuilding competition has kept me away from my phone for a while.<br /><br />Johnny wishes me luck with Arnold Fakezenegger and disappears. Just like that.<br /><br />If I do ever audition for him, I won't know it. I can't even remember what he looks like anymore, but I no longer think he's kinda cute. He, however, will definitely know me, as he sits with a panel of producers, my name in block letters on the headshot in his hand.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">At least he won't be holding my actual head.<br /><br /><br /></span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-69138378045113812842011-05-13T19:26:00.000-07:002011-05-13T19:38:18.530-07:00Where Once There Was None<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMY4oCPx88sHcGskXxHZ1HTjdeFsbyNDTnkQ1p-Zm8xTc4t0BHWW3JHFcH4gi74O55xeQtffpX_Z2vPE2sSgwQ_o-Dp0bM7OYMnG7YGddG06yGCLkPJuvU9_TDkKmkjeXLxUgVQyyhEtA/s1600/mascara+josie+maran.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMY4oCPx88sHcGskXxHZ1HTjdeFsbyNDTnkQ1p-Zm8xTc4t0BHWW3JHFcH4gi74O55xeQtffpX_Z2vPE2sSgwQ_o-Dp0bM7OYMnG7YGddG06yGCLkPJuvU9_TDkKmkjeXLxUgVQyyhEtA/s320/mascara+josie+maran.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606393297544957554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic;">(I rarely...never...post product reviews. But, this little black tube deserves a little blog love. so...)</span><br /></span><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The top ones...would suffice. They didn't spread like black spiders approaching the lid-ville county line, as they did when i was twenty, but they were decent, adequate. The bottom ones were another story. Sparse, unless onyx-drenched, and even then there were gaps, empty foxholes where now fallen tress once lay. Wounded, i assume, in a past assault with a deadly curler.</p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Then came Josie.</p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Waving a wand of enchantment and argan oil across the battlefield, restoring life where once there was none. And, now, life. sprouts. hope.</p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Hope's full name is <i>Josie Maran Instant Natural Volume Argan Mascara</i>. You can find her, this angel of eyes, atop a shelf at your local Sephora. And when you do, never let her go.</p> <p><a href="http://sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P268208&categoryId=C19270"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P268208&categoryId=C1927</span>0</a></p>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-49570546281421842522011-01-11T21:22:00.000-08:002011-01-11T22:51:05.373-08:0010 Things I Learned in 2010<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01nC7BPSIJ8H-ueTPxd2TourLyfILxlZqIVEy4URHC9qgK3ydl94WzSk40NVGlP0DGsgbHmUOLLemhldKVicgNbo0sHgkv1jdYTBPMG57PzbUpfsvRDIhGx2b4B2sXW47NnBRk3CP_Qw/s1600/Ginger+Girl+my+love.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01nC7BPSIJ8H-ueTPxd2TourLyfILxlZqIVEy4URHC9qgK3ydl94WzSk40NVGlP0DGsgbHmUOLLemhldKVicgNbo0sHgkv1jdYTBPMG57PzbUpfsvRDIhGx2b4B2sXW47NnBRk3CP_Qw/s320/Ginger+Girl+my+love.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561183338619546194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>1. </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>Christmas goes by too quickly.</span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>2. Everybody is on Facebook. Or, as the film industry likes to call it, "Cha-Ching!"<br /><br />3. </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>Twitter is the new Facebook. Or, as the film industry likes to call it, "2011's Cha-Ching!"<br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>4. </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>P90X was actually designed by Kim Jong-Il as a means to torture Americans. And, who owns a chin-up bar anyway.</span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>5. </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>The Secret can suck it. I've been "secreting" snow in LA for 3 years and have yet to see a flake. Not a snow flake, anyway. Perhaps, I should have been more specific.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>6. </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>Not having a roommate is Heaven. Having a roommate is the place below hell where the people who fail hell go. </span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>7. </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>Comedy is hard.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>8. I may not be a good redhead.<br /><br />9. </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>Parking garage columns are strategically placed in your car's blind spots...by Geico.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span>10. </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Dogs don't say goodbye." </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span> </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">RIP Ginger. I will never stop missing you.</span><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-24303605690862124272010-08-08T12:32:00.000-07:002010-08-08T13:25:21.510-07:00The Secret Life of the American Actress<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvDRbTUeb33K5pFthhCVMIm3F13uvprYfcdbdEZ7RbGxkhnojbpv7ISdz5ZcXY9haTA0myWG77JCc4ExaWkCCt0SvdHmdae1puDrjgIS1lLkQ8o-YTe_3fYyxkqa1yWxwjbAM67tFaFY/s1600/PAST+DUE.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvDRbTUeb33K5pFthhCVMIm3F13uvprYfcdbdEZ7RbGxkhnojbpv7ISdz5ZcXY9haTA0myWG77JCc4ExaWkCCt0SvdHmdae1puDrjgIS1lLkQ8o-YTe_3fYyxkqa1yWxwjbAM67tFaFY/s320/PAST+DUE.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503133772406064418" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><div>Once upon a time, an aspiring young actress (hey, young is a relative term) received many, many bills in the mail, all at once. It went down something like this...</div></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>Dear Girl About Town</b>, you owe $81.56 MORE to the incompetent doctor who already charged you $100 to look at your tendinitis-ridden knee and say, "I have no magic for you."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>Dear Patient</b>, you owe $122.72 to Cedar Sinai for "fee not covered by insurance and over and above fee for incompetent doctor who had no magic."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>Dear Girl</b>, you owe $69.51 to Time Warner Cable for your snail-slow Internet and your six TV channels. Yes, six.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>Dear GAT</b>, you owe $214 to the DMV for your car registration renewal and for our efficient, friendly and unparalleled service during your recent eight-hour visit.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>Dear Actor</b>, please pay your Comedy Class tuition or or live your life as a talentless bore.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The girl, unable to keep up with her expenses, had no choice but to take to the street. Being a big proponent of the positive attitude, she decided to think of it as a grand adventure. "I will be the best gamine ever," she thought, "I've always liked the outdoors and sewer rats are perfectly good companions!" </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">For every hardship, the ever-hopeful actress found a benefit: being car-less (no more LA traffic!), homeless (shelter is like, so 5 minutes ago!), TV-less (it's all reruns anyway, so whatevs!), Internet-less (no more breaking news alerts on Lindsay Lohan's court case!), credit-less (no more pre-approved credit card junk mail!), and without comedic timing (pity, as a sense of humor might come in handy on the street, but alas, I shall be marvelous at crying on cue!).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The happy-go-lucky girl adapted well to her new environment and spent her days on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, joyfully polishing the likes of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe (I guess you can take the girl out of the clean home but you can't take the home-cleaning out of the girl...) At night, she conducted corner-classes on the importance of personal hygiene, even taking her students on nightly field trips to The Grove to bathe in the fountain.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The girl had the cleanest, most organized box on the block. She made shabby so chic, her fellow vagrants named her "Guttersnipe of the Month." And, she discovered some wonderful street perks: being outside all the time, she never lacked for vitamin D (Dr. Oz would be so proud), she was able to host a scrumptious dinner party using only a discarded French fry and a partially-used packet of ketchup (take THAT MacGyver!), and she became very adept at breaking and entering.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">But, the BEST part of her adventure....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Al Gore made a personal visit to her box, awarding her the Medal of Honor for her extraordinary efforts to end Global Warming by using less electricity...and for having a 100% recyclable home ("I would have preferred a sandwich," she mused, "but I suppose it's best for an actress to stay thin!")!!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">THE END.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">UPDATE: Legend has it, the girl, while dumpster-diving one day, happened upon a ratty old copy of The Secret and used it to land a role in the latest Tarantino film. Thus, as every good story goes...she lived very happily ever after.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-52691946847457954932010-02-04T22:01:00.000-08:002010-02-04T22:14:21.105-08:0010 Things I Hope to Learn in 2010<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkr1pOKtP8MWL5-lI-VFJWCKEXlqrlIqerBXHzx0g6vLjwurWxP6Z26BSFZNZnkAFAANtI2KIqWYYgcujbApWZZx3IVEcnDwDeH1jYTFbIvQghnON02c7PNyybASxMcDHu6nlsAbW1j6Y/s1600-h/Bill+Clinton+Muppet.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkr1pOKtP8MWL5-lI-VFJWCKEXlqrlIqerBXHzx0g6vLjwurWxP6Z26BSFZNZnkAFAANtI2KIqWYYgcujbApWZZx3IVEcnDwDeH1jYTFbIvQghnON02c7PNyybASxMcDHu6nlsAbW1j6Y/s320/Bill+Clinton+Muppet.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434634973373835474" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">This post requires no introductory paragraph as the title is self-explanatory (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span>, I'm watching Gray's Anatomy and I am too lazy to think of an intro). </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Ten Things I Hope to Learn in 2010</span></b><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">1. Why should I use a water-saving shower head when, due to its penchant for sputtering out insufficient trickles, it takes me thrice as long to rinse the shampoo out of my hair? Personally, I think it's a wash. Pun intended.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">2. I can't believe it took me this long to realize that Bill Clinton closely resembles one of The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Muppets</span>. But, which one...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">3. I just blew through $70 worth of Starbucks gift cards in under 2 weeks. At what point does does this become something I should be hospitalized for...?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">4. Is it better to waste water washing dishes, or waste paper using paper plates? Saving the planet is some tricky business.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">5. My dog is 13 1/2 and walks at a snail's pace. Slower, maybe. In fact, often, I have to carry her outside because she can barely walk at all. Until she sees another dog. Then, suddenly, she can canter. Something is rotten in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Dogville</span>.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">6. I will never be a truly fulfilled person until I learn all the words to "We Didn't Start The Fire." It has been taunting me from 80's radio for years... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">7. What is all the fuss about Lost????? Is it really THAT good?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">8. Where is my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Bluetooth</span>? Where are ALL the things that go missing from my apartment? I'm an extremely neat, organized person. So, I either have a poltergeist or a mental disorder. I'm not sure which I prefer.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">9. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Wikipedia</span>. How do they know everything. Seriously.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">10. In light of the vet telling me Dog About Town will likely only be with me for a few more months, I need to know- Do all dogs, in fact, go to heaven? I'm counting on that to be true.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div></div>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-79012519064237369572009-12-29T21:35:00.000-08:002009-12-29T22:57:33.957-08:00Ten Things I Learned in 2009<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZAB9bF2_ECb8mQ3w-07yYsW71wRr6LfghdZ0hdlyiryV366Xe8rntqk_NDViHLTejzYaK0mjgYlfx_STDnm6jB71Llo_eGqJ3WzPPymR0FcInRA293S_BwbMI0DkdEch8eZn091r4WQ/s1600-h/gingy+naps+09.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-decoration: underline;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZAB9bF2_ECb8mQ3w-07yYsW71wRr6LfghdZ0hdlyiryV366Xe8rntqk_NDViHLTejzYaK0mjgYlfx_STDnm6jB71Llo_eGqJ3WzPPymR0FcInRA293S_BwbMI0DkdEch8eZn091r4WQ/s200/gingy+naps+09.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420913667732059586" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I know you've all been glued to your computers watching and wondering WHEN I would post it. So, here it is.</span></span></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZAB9bF2_ECb8mQ3w-07yYsW71wRr6LfghdZ0hdlyiryV366Xe8rntqk_NDViHLTejzYaK0mjgYlfx_STDnm6jB71Llo_eGqJ3WzPPymR0FcInRA293S_BwbMI0DkdEch8eZn091r4WQ/s1600-h/gingy+naps+09.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Finally.</span></span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZAB9bF2_ECb8mQ3w-07yYsW71wRr6LfghdZ0hdlyiryV366Xe8rntqk_NDViHLTejzYaK0mjgYlfx_STDnm6jB71Llo_eGqJ3WzPPymR0FcInRA293S_BwbMI0DkdEch8eZn091r4WQ/s1600-h/gingy+naps+09.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">My annual, and particularly inane, </span></span></a><i><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZAB9bF2_ECb8mQ3w-07yYsW71wRr6LfghdZ0hdlyiryV366Xe8rntqk_NDViHLTejzYaK0mjgYlfx_STDnm6jB71Llo_eGqJ3WzPPymR0FcInRA293S_BwbMI0DkdEch8eZn091r4WQ/s1600-h/gingy+naps+09.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Ten Things I Learned</span></span></a></i><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZAB9bF2_ECb8mQ3w-07yYsW71wRr6LfghdZ0hdlyiryV366Xe8rntqk_NDViHLTejzYaK0mjgYlfx_STDnm6jB71Llo_eGqJ3WzPPymR0FcInRA293S_BwbMI0DkdEch8eZn091r4WQ/s1600-h/gingy+naps+09.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> list</span></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZAB9bF2_ECb8mQ3w-07yYsW71wRr6LfghdZ0hdlyiryV366Xe8rntqk_NDViHLTejzYaK0mjgYlfx_STDnm6jB71Llo_eGqJ3WzPPymR0FcInRA293S_BwbMI0DkdEch8eZn091r4WQ/s1600-h/gingy+naps+09.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">.</span></span></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Read 'em and weep, my peeps. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">1. Being "on-set" is a very nice thing to be.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">2. Roommates are overrated. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">3. Pickled beets are underrated.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">4. Texting is the downfall of the dating world. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">5. No matter how much your prepare yourself, watching your wonderful, sweet, loyal, quirky, beautiful dog lose her mojo is just sad.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">6. All men are not created equal yet...but we're making progress.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">7. Nanas never leave you...even when they're gone.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">8. Elton John's version of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> is better than The Beatles version. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">9. You can be wildly off-your-rocker and still sell 8 million albums. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">10. Turns out it's true. All you need is, in fact, love. And, a really great pair of boots.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-85148181852501096182009-10-13T18:52:00.000-07:002009-10-13T16:48:49.138-07:00Freak Out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7QrtHEdGA1OjQdpS1zni69RIza4uEAJDHdYlsZMH1HhyphenhyphenAoFKup7Rd-uQnjmJBh1pNS8NQ4oy9kk3Hjpvqfzw7X0_FnOemyXJx8UQioWWZA9HcDlgnJGSAv-kuYaTamUOcIdNTYN_7Xw/s1600-h/BlueManGroup.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7QrtHEdGA1OjQdpS1zni69RIza4uEAJDHdYlsZMH1HhyphenhyphenAoFKup7Rd-uQnjmJBh1pNS8NQ4oy9kk3Hjpvqfzw7X0_FnOemyXJx8UQioWWZA9HcDlgnJGSAv-kuYaTamUOcIdNTYN_7Xw/s200/BlueManGroup.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392229557178689250" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">As a follower of this blog (or a potential future date...) you should probably familiarize yourself with this list of things that freak me out. Why you ask? Because I'm too lazy to write a full post, obvi. (I learned that word from Gossip Gir...I mean CNN)</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">23 Things That Freak Me Out</span></b><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">cottage cheese, Blue Man Group, intoxicated elderly, that miniature corn that comes in Chinese food, Rosemary's Baby, Ben Stiller, the Theme Song to Jaws, flan, talking dolls, moms who wipe their kids' noses with their hands, perfect symmetry, liver and onions, long toe nails, death metal, cruelty, filth, intolerance, the smell of rotting flower stems, ant hills, The Exorcist chick's inverted crab walk thing, the humorless, former members of the Bush Administration and waking up before 7am. Oh...and the entire insect kingdom.</span></div></div></div>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-77525754868369971572009-10-05T20:14:00.000-07:002009-10-08T21:35:36.928-07:00Let Freedom Ring<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkroNyWs_omP0wRRvzXHl5krexv8LLvg-pfOMj26V94jGiPqeDlgDnFGMjbhNZvtb_ptwc-_PhuAMgXLCtC5t90v2w639l-ICW9ZgYsMcQdllA8-oL25plQG07cX36JbFYqQyNoYX98U/s1600-h/curb+your+dog.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkroNyWs_omP0wRRvzXHl5krexv8LLvg-pfOMj26V94jGiPqeDlgDnFGMjbhNZvtb_ptwc-_PhuAMgXLCtC5t90v2w639l-ICW9ZgYsMcQdllA8-oL25plQG07cX36JbFYqQyNoYX98U/s200/curb+your+dog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390449859031273426" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I'm all about freedom. In fact, I'd say freedom is a driving force in my life. And, there are laws that I find archaic and oppressive- The ban on gay marriage, for instance,or the fact that I am not allowed to paint my nails while driving....so unfair. But, there are some things that are not illegal...that really need to be. </span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Case in point.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">1. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Over Zealous Sprinklers Systems-</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> There are sprinklers that spray out onto Sunset Blvd. during my commute to and from work. Thus, every day, I have to SWERVE around the streams of water that threaten to splatter my nice clean car...while going 45 mph...and dodging on-coming traffic. Not my happy place. 40 lashes.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">2. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The "Poo and Run"</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">- Beverly Hills is a virtual mine-field of doggie dooty. Which, over time, biodegrades into the ground and into the water systems. yum. Book 'em Danno.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">3. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Beepers</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">- No, not pagers. Beepers...of horns. On my way to work this morning, there was a car that had broken down in the middle of road. I could see the driver inside, an older man who was clearly distressed. So, we're all patiently going around this poor man's ailing Toyota (and hoping he had help on the way) when this misguided diva in a white Mercedes decides to LAY on her horn...as if THAT would magically make the man's car move out of the way. If I hadn't been in a hurry...and a-scared of being shot at by a road-raging Real Housewife...I would have gotten out of my car and slapped her upside her clueless clip-on extensions. 30 days community service and no manicures for a year.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">4. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Scooters-</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> No, not Razors. Vespas. Formerly known as Mopeds. Don't get me wrong, there is a place for scooters in this world. It's called Key West. It is not, however, called Santa Monica Blvd in rush hour traffic. Move along, little doggies. 12 hail Marys and 3 days in the clink.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">5. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Gum Drops- </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">If there is gum on the sidewalk, my shoe will find it. Like magnet and steel. Since littering is already illegal it's time it was properly enforced. Off with their heads!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">This concludes Part 1 of Things That Should Be Illegal. I realize this post makes me sound a tad petulant. So, if after reading, if you prefer not only to unsubscribe but to block my IP address entirely, I completely understand. If you would, instead, like to add to the list via the comments section- God bless your prickly soul ;)</span></div></div></div>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-7492545008778139202009-07-04T09:14:00.000-07:002009-07-04T10:13:32.156-07:00There's Gonna Be Fireworks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiFCqpUrAqAsJPKmMTvNnpLHzPW0O5F_5VHx8XZJWNjrBF15o9bremA3gBySw6XSqKMqDvj82-zEk2T5tq-_HsEnbwkaHvEr7AbodZDiJW353qs9mgUp7DzRQP6ZtNgO8HWxzdDQVdk4/s1600-h/SHR+pic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiFCqpUrAqAsJPKmMTvNnpLHzPW0O5F_5VHx8XZJWNjrBF15o9bremA3gBySw6XSqKMqDvj82-zEk2T5tq-_HsEnbwkaHvEr7AbodZDiJW353qs9mgUp7DzRQP6ZtNgO8HWxzdDQVdk4/s200/SHR+pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354648347654007506" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">everyyyyone</span> is bugging me to post something since the last post was a tribute to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">MJ</span> and Farrah and today...is a time to celebrate. Nothing is coming to me. So you're going to get whatever tumbles out of my head right now. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Yay</span> for you!</span><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">here goes...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Don't know much about history. fact. But, what i do know I learned not from history teachers or field trips. No, every important educational particle that penetrated my little pea brain came from another undeniably powerful source.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">School. House. Rock.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Had it not been for the brilliant lyricists of team <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">SHR</span>, I would not have memorized the entire preamble to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Constitution</span> (information that has proven to be extremely useful throughout my life...k, I'm lying.), know how a bill becomes a law or how a conjunction functions or that a noun is a person, place or thing. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Had I NOT spent a good portion of my childhood watching t.v. until my eyes bled (I feel I must mention that I was surely in the basement playing with my Barbie Town House during every math jingle. It's not their fault I still can't do long division), I would have missed said musical interludes and would, at this very moment in time, not know that an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">interjection</span> shows excitement, or emotion, generally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point, or a by a comma when the feeling's not as strong.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">So I wouldn't be able to effectively do this...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Hooray! It's the 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">th</span> of July today! Rats, we have to work on Monday.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Thus...in honor of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Independence</span> Day...I leave you with this <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">SHR</span> video entitled Fireworks. Not their best work...but apropos to the day. Happy 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">th</span>! Enjoy...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">And then go unpack your adjectives. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvH7ySQi37E">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvH7ySQi37E</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Oh and one last thing...</span><a href="http://www.socialluxelounge.com/blogluxe/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">VOTE</span></b></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> for Girl About Town for Funniest Blog. Unless you think I suck. In which case you should </span><a href="http://www.socialluxelounge.com/blogluxe/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">VOTE</span></b></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> anyway in honor of School House Rock. Or something like that.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div></div>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-63091605497777727662009-06-25T19:27:00.000-07:002009-06-25T20:14:23.973-07:00R.I.P.<div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Usually, this blog is filled with whimsical stories and lighthearted folly<br /></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;">but today, I am extremely saddened by the deaths of both<br />Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.<br />So, today, I pay tribute to each.<br /><br />One battled fearlessly against an insufferable cancer and<br />the other died suddenly, much, much too young.<br />Both are loved by many, both will be remembered...always.<br /><br /></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >R.I.P.<br />Farrah Fawcett<br />Feb 2, 1947- June 25, 2009</span><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zh_v8IIRk2s"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zh_v8IIRk2s</span></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2-S6scsb4yjlnkhAyLBsCavXCha4nZwserp4-G89P2jrXnf2h_GQQX1SgueO7WJokkeHOMZIy81CjN4EONcUoEF2CvNIZomrvPqQYY_1qxPEm6Aotj7Z0S_Y3h30ezRnLYKhqkZGn7w/s1600-h/farrahfawcettposter.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2-S6scsb4yjlnkhAyLBsCavXCha4nZwserp4-G89P2jrXnf2h_GQQX1SgueO7WJokkeHOMZIy81CjN4EONcUoEF2CvNIZomrvPqQYY_1qxPEm6Aotj7Z0S_Y3h30ezRnLYKhqkZGn7w/s200/farrahfawcettposter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351463560981858290" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rZz0L_CQUws5vJD8BUJXDfR7WPzhc6ZgZtDTh-YM3MBcZzeL9K_rQdeEI11D1g-8nISJCe8PER6TWZl2O6zr1iDccEbgSZvQb49OPTB8uqxPW3GounV3MyMw0dLc9FOsPnKL-00owAc/s1600-h/farrah+ryan.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 156px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rZz0L_CQUws5vJD8BUJXDfR7WPzhc6ZgZtDTh-YM3MBcZzeL9K_rQdeEI11D1g-8nISJCe8PER6TWZl2O6zr1iDccEbgSZvQb49OPTB8uqxPW3GounV3MyMw0dLc9FOsPnKL-00owAc/s200/farrah+ryan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351463887093145266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0JOBlDOUa3YPVcAjVF_l4yxqDdiFvxIyQGTpK5k-OjF41Xsgmi2GbrPM3DW0gZFW-4pjfdNi_T6WhGidTJRCPbhMkgVtvF51sbjqgdcuajTPeX-JNF35EpPwc0gd7ErwixMkWBQ5eXc/s1600-h/farrah+burning+bed.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0JOBlDOUa3YPVcAjVF_l4yxqDdiFvxIyQGTpK5k-OjF41Xsgmi2GbrPM3DW0gZFW-4pjfdNi_T6WhGidTJRCPbhMkgVtvF51sbjqgdcuajTPeX-JNF35EpPwc0gd7ErwixMkWBQ5eXc/s200/farrah+burning+bed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351464047297210530" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg59M74HrgeqfIHjC4Uo0Tt2Km9CBSdpj25LZ-OnfY7vtaqgYyhmmOwT_Mt0Y8JrliBhqP6gPXSfUnJE7h6telRmUZsha4GTdF1qUGOmrlQ1xLnVJffscpu1kkmgFBRByzg2Q-Psqqx10A/s1600-h/logans+run.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg59M74HrgeqfIHjC4Uo0Tt2Km9CBSdpj25LZ-OnfY7vtaqgYyhmmOwT_Mt0Y8JrliBhqP6gPXSfUnJE7h6telRmUZsha4GTdF1qUGOmrlQ1xLnVJffscpu1kkmgFBRByzg2Q-Psqqx10A/s200/logans+run.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351465176805634930" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHwkHk23YOdMFZySr9vQpyRF-x7zpa2ydZSt_FYtwavn123BHc1e1gX9VeiVdYkWcNLQamwxUUj9GPiPyQ1PzGGE-Z1dqM_PSyvyrB5124DLyq3augM2Kz4wnInzWTQNfPub5CSrm028/s1600-h/farrah+sitting.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHwkHk23YOdMFZySr9vQpyRF-x7zpa2ydZSt_FYtwavn123BHc1e1gX9VeiVdYkWcNLQamwxUUj9GPiPyQ1PzGGE-Z1dqM_PSyvyrB5124DLyq3augM2Kz4wnInzWTQNfPub5CSrm028/s200/farrah+sitting.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351464195564939650" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">R.I.P.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Michael Jackson<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Aug. 29, 1958- June 25, 2009</span><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ber5DrM6dG8"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ber5DrM6dG8</span></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPo5Ysk7hEafK2ZW0jKFNhVeZGyTa_kRmyEnF-XfigwXhvv8EEHeb5eJuUcXuuNtiBb_dfmGxseH6A9z7rV7GrzFmu7I2L_LhQ69BWpYredXBk_1rdlBS_ex1qDRRQ8wui4YMZvD1e1sY/s1600-h/jackson+5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPo5Ysk7hEafK2ZW0jKFNhVeZGyTa_kRmyEnF-XfigwXhvv8EEHeb5eJuUcXuuNtiBb_dfmGxseH6A9z7rV7GrzFmu7I2L_LhQ69BWpYredXBk_1rdlBS_ex1qDRRQ8wui4YMZvD1e1sY/s200/jackson+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351464503580127570" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAtYM-ikggbdj5ZjiYjv9De2dbVCP3eq__NSE7Wx-qZb3omWaHrDYN9iSIIweA2T3xfTv6B_1FODix3Sv2XGbHr1jgJ1HnrcIFnEmdwCLOVvKN8Geq-EwcW94wWCxQwj6SDAu3Ev8Gck/s1600-h/mg+glove.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAtYM-ikggbdj5ZjiYjv9De2dbVCP3eq__NSE7Wx-qZb3omWaHrDYN9iSIIweA2T3xfTv6B_1FODix3Sv2XGbHr1jgJ1HnrcIFnEmdwCLOVvKN8Geq-EwcW94wWCxQwj6SDAu3Ev8Gck/s200/mg+glove.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351464680597478610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwEu8GeKj10Ud_03Aa9mRLr7vRpTC9Cv_rhyvfXhGjCDHSkX1itBEr3ZgbimA1tQTNZL-Rf2Wj5GxZ3IXvkcWW-oWgDIIqXwapFoise8123fwBDMSqgD1f5xJNac7XgRBQbppq1NL_WDM/s1600-h/michael+jackson+billy+jean.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwEu8GeKj10Ud_03Aa9mRLr7vRpTC9Cv_rhyvfXhGjCDHSkX1itBEr3ZgbimA1tQTNZL-Rf2Wj5GxZ3IXvkcWW-oWgDIIqXwapFoise8123fwBDMSqgD1f5xJNac7XgRBQbppq1NL_WDM/s200/michael+jackson+billy+jean.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351464824642330930" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioCrowcLMA970deRGKx9XalCqN82NGyeoC0haRcWS2buUpS9NxT7_NmIyz6pWPtukecjQqXdACXVhL2xfwPcCbBAmqIcsO0JyBII0hHPNnKtUZnhwUb3q2VtlAV0lFKEDVB6g_zln4DYg/s1600-h/mj.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioCrowcLMA970deRGKx9XalCqN82NGyeoC0haRcWS2buUpS9NxT7_NmIyz6pWPtukecjQqXdACXVhL2xfwPcCbBAmqIcsO0JyBII0hHPNnKtUZnhwUb3q2VtlAV0lFKEDVB6g_zln4DYg/s200/mj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351464974274534482" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWGTatS1gvz4hvXyFIXF8wL6ZnyRKpF1jh9z70uEygLj6Xm_7jf9WKuxCuGSnAUE6OHDWX6_gwcp1Dh03Q7Ry8IwadX5qg1biw2TK_5S9FRyol8ZTiavTw-CZHSQtrJdx6h7zvhbONKA/s1600-h/thriller-michael-jackson.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWGTatS1gvz4hvXyFIXF8wL6ZnyRKpF1jh9z70uEygLj6Xm_7jf9WKuxCuGSnAUE6OHDWX6_gwcp1Dh03Q7Ry8IwadX5qg1biw2TK_5S9FRyol8ZTiavTw-CZHSQtrJdx6h7zvhbONKA/s200/thriller-michael-jackson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351465326478731890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj673cs03OVjwcTWRi5w0Q2pEMYCVG4-UeJzbbHLGT4ExEAx2Y79Lc3uwWOA_DoQNv3ZE6semh7W_IIBVXorSAxXgEpTQULBN1WhsCYRciTD4Jau-WXHvtcCpsuuDAtk45kn_V_68D6c98/s1600-h/young+michael+jackson.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj673cs03OVjwcTWRi5w0Q2pEMYCVG4-UeJzbbHLGT4ExEAx2Y79Lc3uwWOA_DoQNv3ZE6semh7W_IIBVXorSAxXgEpTQULBN1WhsCYRciTD4Jau-WXHvtcCpsuuDAtk45kn_V_68D6c98/s200/young+michael+jackson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351466832974633122" border="0" /></a><br /></div>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-72130439871026982942009-06-23T21:22:00.001-07:002009-06-23T23:22:07.057-07:00head case<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJxYdYQ3LQhuk_S-8LaFo7znX6UsEpFwJ6WBNxGAo6H_AV9XGny2cJFlL07JpRkqC9IbyfuGK26pX3xpZKj8LGBZNYpCUfSFUSBCvDYIoY5k-hB0aQ-9s4TtduW4h3mw9NmUq8oAqDGs/s1600-h/roller+skates.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJxYdYQ3LQhuk_S-8LaFo7znX6UsEpFwJ6WBNxGAo6H_AV9XGny2cJFlL07JpRkqC9IbyfuGK26pX3xpZKj8LGBZNYpCUfSFUSBCvDYIoY5k-hB0aQ-9s4TtduW4h3mw9NmUq8oAqDGs/s200/roller+skates.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350772322267455922" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I recently read that people who have suffered concussions actually have permanent brain damage. Usually mild, but apparently permanent. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This explains a lot.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />As a kid, I was a tomboy. Of course, I played with barbies and stuffed animals and used Play Dough to make pretend hot dogs, which I served at my pretend restaurant... and I adored my Easy Bake oven (I ingested a LOT of raw ingredients. It is simply not reasonable to expect an 8 year old to wait for a light bulb to bake brownies.). But, I also played in the mud, built forts, climbed trees, jumped fences, rode bikes, played softball, skateboarded, ice skated and roller skated. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Along with such activities came sprained wrists, crutches, stitches and...concussions.<br /><br />Four, to be exact. <br /><br />One occurred while ice skating (I naturally suck at all winter sports), one while roller skating with a cup of Kool Aid in my hand, one while skateboarding down an insanely steep hill in an attempt to impress the cute boy who lived at the top...and who didn't know I existed and probably wasn't even home at the time, and one while playing "run and slide on the ice patch" during 8th grade recess. We were 13, what do you want?</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />The ice patch fall was a doozie which caused temporary blindness (No, Mr. Thomas, God rest your mean old soul, I wasn't faking it to get out of math class that day. But, I'm not sorry I missed it.) and, I now believe, a whole host of other issues including, but not limited to, the following:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">-Last week it took me 4 full minutes to figure out how to get a travel toothbrush back into its case. yep.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">-My math center doesn't work. I'm not even sure it exists. I don't know exactly where it is located in the brain, but I'm pretty sure I fell on it during the skateboarding incident. Stupid cute boy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">-I utterly adore brand new jars of peanut butter. Specifically, Skippy. If i get to be the first one to break the unnaturally smooth surface, my life feels complete. Tell me that's not brain damage.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">-I once forgot my dog's name. The vet tech said, "Who do we have here?" and I said, "um..." followed by a blank stare and head tilt. uh huh.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">-I have watched all three seasons of Rock of Love. And, I'm hoping Brett breaks up with Taya so there can be a Rock of Love 4. God help me.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">-All these years I thought Michale Jackson was saying, "keep on, do the bus stop, don't stop 'til you get enough." Figured the "bus stop" was a kind of dance. Astonished I had that wrong.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">-I continue to throw myself into the horror that is the LA dating pool. I think the use of the word horror is explanation enough here.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The list goes on...and on. But, I'll stop now for fear of scaring off...everyone single one of my readers.<br /><br /> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">***This post is dedicated to my childhood partner-in-crime, Charlotte, who bore witness to many of my mishaps and who got side-swiped by a speeding car while biking to DQ with me via a highway we were NOT supposed to be on...something we manged to hide from her parents despite cuts, bruises and limping. Hopefully, her mother is not one of my followers... ;)***</span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-30974481685879915492009-06-10T12:23:00.000-07:002009-06-10T12:34:39.213-07:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If you like what you read, </span><a href="http://www.socialluxelounge.com/blogluxe/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">VOTE</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span>for Girl About Town for funniest blog!! </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If you don't like what you read, leave my site immediately...but not before you </span><a href="http://www.socialluxelounge.com/blogluxe/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">VOTE</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> ;)</span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-59631733345460227562009-06-09T17:47:00.000-07:002009-06-10T12:36:49.675-07:00Diary of a Madwoman<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaxSs8-xRHVG3lppiYK8NOCnRLAW10Zrc_7_w1qNtaFaF2V1duM4IXCV5L0VcfQInIsf0rVPNS1X9XhyphenhyphenvXvm4J_TiuIWnsfbSn-wIHE2CN7KRcTGemxnwwgDFK3IuIdeF-Pwg8sGdFcSM/s1600-h/baby_with_blackberry.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345584628615675778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaxSs8-xRHVG3lppiYK8NOCnRLAW10Zrc_7_w1qNtaFaF2V1duM4IXCV5L0VcfQInIsf0rVPNS1X9XhyphenhyphenvXvm4J_TiuIWnsfbSn-wIHE2CN7KRcTGemxnwwgDFK3IuIdeF-Pwg8sGdFcSM/s200/baby_with_blackberry.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sometimes... quite often...all the live-long day, I think deep thoughts about nothing at all. It's a gift. I was born with the enviable ability to obsess over things about which most people don't give a tiny worms knuckle.
<br />
<br />Don't be jealous.
<br />
<br />Today, I have decided to post said random crap. Lucky you.
<br />
<br /></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Things That Don't Belong Together</span>
<br /></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">
<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Going Commando and Mini Skirts-</span> <style>- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --></style><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"></span>Now, young Hollywood Starlets, I am hardly a prude. but, it's just bad manners to show your lady-business to the paparazzi. Keep it under wraps, yeah?</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">
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<br /></span><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" equiv="Content-Type"><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"><meta content="Microsoft Word 9" name="Generator"><meta content="Microsoft Word 9" name="Originator"><link style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms" href="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Anne/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} -->Â Â </style><span style="font-family:';font-size:12;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >My dog and Rain</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">- </span>Dog About Town resides in the perfect climate because she despises rain and it hardly ever rains in Southern California. Her distaste runs so deep, she actually refuses to even cross the threshold onto the porch if the sprinkler system is on. She can't hear me calling her name from 2 feet away but she can hear the lawn being lightly watered one-story below. I think I'm being bamboozled.
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<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Spam and me-</span> I do not now, nor will I ever, desire to enlarge my penis. I like my penis the way it is. So, hotloveforyou@biggerisbetter.com, know your audience..and know when to quit.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Children and Electronics</span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">-</span> I find it interesting that my mom-friends find themselves missing calls, placing involuntary calls and even replacing entire cell phones because of their children. "My son gave my Blackberry a bath...in the toilet," "My 3 year old must have dialed your number," "My 4-year-old turned the ringer off," "Little Lauren covered it in play dough." K, I don't have a child...or a blackberry...but when I do, I'm thinkin' never the twain shall meet.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" equiv="Content-Type"><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"><meta content="Microsoft Word 9" name="Generator"><meta content="Microsoft Word 9" name="Originator"><link href="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Anne/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" face="georgia">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Ectomorphs and Running</span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >-</span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" > </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">for details, see prior post (yes, that was a shameless plug).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">
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<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Blind Dates and Men Who Don't Speak English</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- for details, stay tuned for future post (hey, I just installed Ad Sense and a girl's gotta eat).</span>
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<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And my personal favorite...</span>
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<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Cottage Cheese and Human Consumption</span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">:</span> It's curdled milk, people!! curdled. milk. I rest my case.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Last Minute Addition:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Blogging and Blogspot</strong>- There is a ghost in the machine. Hence, the crazy font sizes and styles it chooses against my will. Trebuchet, damn blogspot, Trebuchet!!!!!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
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<br />girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-55937340733701852982009-05-20T21:47:00.001-07:002009-07-01T14:55:15.561-07:00Running on Empty<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7y0cIiRcM28ljarFnmxXepYlMMtBHkfX6VSaF8mL0DbQKEnduOEVkZmyxO50J0CmzRQZzzwB6dfQclmQ1pMmza6gi4MwanJ4JT014M3SMVJiuI3PvrCjdIhiXq4jw79U_-ENQyOHYdw/s1600-h/eat+our+dust.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338897971998787762" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 200px; cursor: pointer; height: 150px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7y0cIiRcM28ljarFnmxXepYlMMtBHkfX6VSaF8mL0DbQKEnduOEVkZmyxO50J0CmzRQZzzwB6dfQclmQ1pMmza6gi4MwanJ4JT014M3SMVJiuI3PvrCjdIhiXq4jw79U_-ENQyOHYdw/s200/eat+our+dust.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When it comes to eating well...I try. My daily diet packs a lot of fruits, veggies, legumes and whole grains. I drink Acai juice, take probiotics, keep red meat to a minimum and avoid fast-food.<br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But...there exists for me, a kind of kryptonite that is able to out-maneuver most carrots and kick the asses of virtually all brussel sprouts(except those really really big ones). Thus, occasionally, I slip (swan dive) off the health wagon and land squarely in the middle of a puddle (Lake...one of the Great ones) of butter.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Short pause while I undergo a bypass.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:';" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Shoveled onto mashed potatoes, applied the-opposite-of-sparingly to a warm ear of corn, tempting lobster chunks to bathe in it, suffocating unsuspecting pierogies...one taste and all I can think is, "you, complete me." And, I have come to realize that I even prefer the taste of butter to that of chocolate.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:';" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:';" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Dear Friends and Family Members who have, throughout the years, talked me down from the ledge of many a Whitman's Sampler as I stood clinging to the last dark-chocolate caramel, I sincerely apologize for the concussion you each just incurred upon falling off your respective chairs'.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style=";font-family:';" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:';" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To combat the ill-effects of all things churned, I work-out at the local gym- lifting weights, doing sit-ups and walking uphill on the treadmill. But, upon hearing from several friends that running is the fastest and easiest way to stay in shape...I decided to try it out. I have never been a runner, except for that time in high school when I joined the cross-country team and then quit (was asked to leave) after the first day (1/2 hour) because I got yelled at for bending over to tie my shoe in the middle of a run (fell over from a side stitch before reaching the end of the school campus), but my brother was an accomplished cross-country runner back-in-the-day, so i figure it’s in the genes. I'm gonna be great at this.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My Jogging Diary:</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana"><br /><b><o:p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Day 1:</b><span style=";font-family:';" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Left apartment at 3:40 pm and set about on jog through lovely Beverly Hills. Returned to apartment at 4:03 pm and set about lying on lovely floor trying not to cough up lovely blood.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style=";font-family:';" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Day 2 (technically day 4-took 3 days to convince self to run again):</b><span style=";font-family:';" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Left apartment with positive attitude. Made it four blocks and was about to stop when spotted Michael Madsen in car at stop sign. Ran enthusiastically 'til car out of sight. Crawled home with visions of oxygen tanks dancing in head.<br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><b></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><b>Day 3:</b> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ran to corner. Pre-run baked potato possible bad idea. Abort.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:';" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms"><b><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Day 4:</span> </b><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Shins hurt. Who needs in shape shins. Abort.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms"><br /><b></b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Day 5:</strong> American Idol on. Abort.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><b>Day 6: </b>Abort.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Even though I was only a runner for 6...5...okay 2 days, I do not consider this endeavor a failure because I gained some very valuable information in the process. For one, ectomorphs don't run. Secondly, if we do run, we will be back home before the red "pause line" on the tivo moves 1/4 inch. And, finally, trying new things gives me something to blog about.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms"><br /></p><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Update</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">: since the commencement of my jogging experiment I have also discovered that ectomorphs don't do yoga, jump rope or use stair climbers.</span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:';" ><span style="font-size:0;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:';" ><span style="font-size:0;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:';" ><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size:0;"></span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-49967632966493761082009-04-21T20:15:00.000-07:002009-04-22T11:51:53.762-07:00To Live and Date in LA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwf9hVRZ2Qvypui3QbBHGZpHeHvTWRUN5sTKNVsoEbp6lWezVQbtlvzd2Y-jSH5UK-eFzXlf_5BDx6BFslNvozE89OG0ELjDF3nZ9R1zbYz7aE1eDHzgHl4KssCPTlhcjzr_IQTxppW4A/s1600-h/houston's.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwf9hVRZ2Qvypui3QbBHGZpHeHvTWRUN5sTKNVsoEbp6lWezVQbtlvzd2Y-jSH5UK-eFzXlf_5BDx6BFslNvozE89OG0ELjDF3nZ9R1zbYz7aE1eDHzgHl4KssCPTlhcjzr_IQTxppW4A/s200/houston's.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327588558362295730" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">If you believe, "that which you mock you are destined to become," I am about to become a short, angry, Italian, guy. And a trashy blonde.<br /><br />This is the story of my date from hell. Or at least from West Hollywood.<br /><br />The night compares in awful-ness to being hog-tied and forced to eat live worms during a multiple-root canal procedure while listening to the Muzak version of the Brittney Spears catalog. Or any version of the Brittney Spears catalog.<br /><br />It all started at Houston's, one of my favorite casual eateries in LA. Before I go any further, let me say that I recommend never ever going on a date with a waiter who works at a restaurant you like (and, do not,whatever you do, let your sister write your name and number and a smiley face on the check and hand it to the hot waiter from said restaurant's other location in Santa Monica two weeks later).<br /><br />So...<br /><br />It's Thursday night and I'm having dinner with my friend, Amy. We start chatting with our waiter, who is pretty cute, very friendly and doesn't stab me in the heart with his pen when I ask him to repeat the specials three times. During dinner, he checks on us often, he tells us he's an actor (shocking spoiler), he gets in trouble for paying too much attention to us but we talk some more anyway and he's light and funny and recommends a delightful post-dinner herbal mango tea.<br /><br />We finish our tea and "E" (name left out to protect...me.) puts my left-over salmon in a take-out box and says he's going to write the date on the box so I don't "eat a bad piece of fish next week." He puts the box in a paper Houston's bag, sets the bag on the table, and saunters off. Amy...is grinning. She's sure he wrote his phone number on box. I'm sure she's high on mango tea. We wager a Vanilla Bakery Red Velvet Cupcake and open the bag. It's a win/win- Amy gets the best cupcake ever. I get a date with a cute waiter.<br /><br />Jump to the weekend- E and I text and agree to meet at El Guapo Cantina, a casual indoor/outoor, bar/restaurant on Melrose. On my way, I call him to tell him I'm almost there. He answers and I can hear him screaming...not through the microphone on my cell...through my open car window...from 3 blocks away.<br /><br />"What the BLEEP is wrong with you, you BLEEPING asshole? I'll BLEEPING kick your BLEEPING ass! You better move your BLEEPITY BLEEPING car right now or I'll BLEEPING kill you, you BLEEEPING jack-ass!" He speaks into the phone- "Hey! This BLEEP-hole took the space I was holding for you. I should kick her ass!" Yes...I said her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">I park, get out, pray his outburst was just a one-time attack of Turrets Syndrome and walk toward him. This is the part in the story where I also recommend never ever accepting a date from a waiter you've only seen from a seated position...in a notoriously dimly lit restaurant.<br /><br />He's short. I mean to say, he's very very not tall. And, he's sweating...a lot. And repeatedly pushing his sweaty bangs off his forehead in much the same way a serial killer might nervously paw at his grimy locks while burying the head of his latest victim.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Crap. I'm going to end up in this guy's trunk and I haven't won an Oscar yet.</span> Or seen Cirque Du Soleil.<br /><br />Over drinks I learn that he is Italian, from Long Island, has very strong opinions, has given up alcohol for Lent (this bodes well for a girl on a date with a psychopath), believes in hitting children, thinks he and I have an "amazing connection", has a mother who is a "renowned and widely-respected" child psychologist (so...many...sarcastic...remarks...work...here) and that he is taking me to Jones' for apple pie after I finish my beer and isn't taking no for an answer.<br />gulp.<br /><br />Dear God, please forgive me for everything I have ever done wrong ever in my whole life and please let a rogue bolt of lightning hit Jones' tonight so this date can end while all of my body parts are still in tact. Amen.<br /><br />4 hundred-million hours of inane conversation and greasy hair-swiping later...I finally get home...in one piece. 4 seconds after that, I get a text message: "had a great time tonite. hope you got home safe pretty girl. can't wait to see you again." Shiver.<br /><br />I text back the next night and let him down gently while holding garlic and a wooden stake and facing Mecca and googling myself to make sure my address is not listed. And, then I vow to never ever date anybody in LA ever again!!!<br /><br />Unless my cute neighbor asks me out. Or...I run into Kris Allen from American Idol.<span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br />P.S. I have yet to return to either Houston's location which is a pity because their grilled chicken salad is to die for. Their waiters, however, are not ;)<br /></span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-90732962778728239472009-03-05T19:00:00.001-08:002009-03-05T19:23:41.244-08:00Scent and Sensibility<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVsDteikggg6mCk01wYTV8kg1LAPYvcK7DJourLp4izKUy-EGDWcwiCYY4G7-bxVUnzAYqLd9mFmKecvrOrKoRDlWlBRX3Q8VWcGYlFPfwWTc1C7lMSfM56QPzeNiCzwMiLbxZ1Yj4Xs/s1600-h/Perfume+girl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVsDteikggg6mCk01wYTV8kg1LAPYvcK7DJourLp4izKUy-EGDWcwiCYY4G7-bxVUnzAYqLd9mFmKecvrOrKoRDlWlBRX3Q8VWcGYlFPfwWTc1C7lMSfM56QPzeNiCzwMiLbxZ1Yj4Xs/s200/Perfume+girl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309910125691625570" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Today, in the coffee shop on the first floor of my building, I had the unfortunate experience of standing briefly next to "Mr. Too Much Cologne Wearer." I don't know how said stinker managed to get his hands on a crop duster before arriving at work, but I'm pretty sure he used one to apply his cologne. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> That or a super soaker. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">About three seconds after he ventured too close to my personal space bubble, I went into a coughing fit, as if my lungs were crying out in revolt. The reeking gent was dressed in a dapper, well-fitting suit and carried the confidence of a man who thought he looked like a million bucks. And rightly so- because he did look like a million bucks. Unfortunately, he smelled like a million brothels. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Less fortunate is the fact that Mr. Too Much Cologne Wearer, is not alone. No, he stands proudly and obliviously in the company of many a mis-guided scent-soaked man whose parental figures failed to mentioned the "less is more" theory and whose assault on the nostrils borders on criminal. My roommate's boyfriend, dear sweet boy that he is, is a card- carrying member of the "More is Still Not Enough Coalition." My dog actually sneezes when he enters the room.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Mrs. Too Much Perfume Wearer is no less guilty. Too often, I find myself slamming into a malodorous fog of some gnarly eau de toilette that was meant to be used sparingly, if at all. It always leaves me annoyed and gagging and thinking things like, "Wasn't Obssession discontinued in the 90's?" or "Was she actually DIPPED in CK One?" </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> As a girl who adores her favorite fragrance (name of said par fume left out to protect said author from negative comments such as, "you stink too, Girl About Town!") I understand wanting to smell good. But, I also think a little dab'l do ya.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> And to the whiffy lady in the elevator last week who exited at the 4th floor leaving me to cook in her Clinique for three more floors...there IS such a thing as too much Happy.</span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-90852809080464333662009-02-07T14:35:00.000-08:002009-02-13T22:03:34.149-08:00Just My Luck<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAGA7aoSpk2dd2l8nhWcl99_bmqg3G2r1UBp1-yNe3YnYHG6Aa5y3ZLaxGOpmpwVZZ9D-YeDkDm6EI2is0SoDWNe2rS3-10l8iZ2SpZxzRBA3kiDNCyUB4VKZ8h3pYm5AKmEDZWr0Hyo/s1600-h/bird+poop+sign.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAGA7aoSpk2dd2l8nhWcl99_bmqg3G2r1UBp1-yNe3YnYHG6Aa5y3ZLaxGOpmpwVZZ9D-YeDkDm6EI2is0SoDWNe2rS3-10l8iZ2SpZxzRBA3kiDNCyUB4VKZ8h3pYm5AKmEDZWr0Hyo/s200/bird+poop+sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302529708844783410" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've been thinking lately about fate, luck, coincidence and the laws of attraction about which everyone is all a-buzz. I understand the premise behind "The Secret", (which, by the way, is clearly not a secret anymore) and while I do believe, to a certain extent, "what goes around, comes around," I'm not convinced there is a definitive method to all the madness that is life or that we always get what we ask for or deserve.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm a big believer in putting positive energy into the world and I also believe if you commit to an idea, the universe will meet you half-way. But, nobody knows exactly why things happen the way they do, or why, against all efforts to the contrary, we find things in our lives we had no intention of having over for tea. Scientists have one theory, theologians have another, Girl About Town...has yet another.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The universe has wicked-ass sense of humor.<br /><br />Case. In. Point.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Last week, the universe thought it would be a good idea to send both a spider and a water bug crawling across my bed...while I was still in it. The water bug alone, nearly caused me to relocate (not to another part of the apartment, to a new apartment). The spider, well that was just cruel. I find it hard to believe I attracted said insects or that the universe was unclear about my distaste for bugs in general considering I fantasize daily about the complete extinction of the entire insect kingdom. And, the untimely death of all snakes. Hate snakes. Nasty, sneaky creatures that are always up to no good.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Yesterday, the universe found it in good taste to send a bird to drop a giant doody on my car 5 minutes after I spent $12 having it washed. Now, I ask you. What did I do to attract bird doody? Had I disturbed or offended said bird in some fashion, or committed some inequity against fowl in the past, I would understand it's retribution and justification for using my car as it's toilet. Having done no such thing, I take complete offense...and warn said bird to sleep with one tiny eye open.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I leave you with one final example in support of my theory- my new gym is filled with really good looking guys. 99% of them...are gay. If I listen really hard, I swear I can hear the universe snorting as he chuckles.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><br /><br /></span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-80922878383473632962009-01-28T21:15:00.001-08:002009-04-14T09:17:02.990-07:00Say Cheese<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDTEdf6_Rjpkm20ISYPpcdZOYobS4rIBxGahIXJ8JSfFkI92Rr9I57NjAQrjoS5ni6OokDGjsqw_8hnm5u2XvF3QzfH6ww1xlsohKI8bJu6jcLy3B2oQ6dt0Y2n_5aiW9BrweBB_X8Js/s1600-h/careless+whisper.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDTEdf6_Rjpkm20ISYPpcdZOYobS4rIBxGahIXJ8JSfFkI92Rr9I57NjAQrjoS5ni6OokDGjsqw_8hnm5u2XvF3QzfH6ww1xlsohKI8bJu6jcLy3B2oQ6dt0Y2n_5aiW9BrweBB_X8Js/s200/careless+whisper.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300105943576036930" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was writing a new song the other day and it occurred to me that, throughout history, there have been penned, some truly brilliant songs. Like, Van Morrison's Into the Mystic- "I wanna rock your gypsy soul, just like way back in the days of old, and together we'll float into the mystic." Slay me. Or, Leonard Cohen's Halelujah- "remember when I moved in you, the holy dove was moving too and every breath we drew was halelujah." Pure magic.<br /><br />I could go on and on about the songs that inspire me. But, since it's WAAAAAAY more fun to mock crappy songs, I bring you my Top Fifteen list of cheesiest lyrics ever.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm into lists lately.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1.<span style="font-weight: bold;">Celine Dion</span>- "I'm everything I am because you loved me" (I think I just heard a founding member of the Women's Movement roll over in her grave.)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1.<span style="font-weight: bold;">Captain and Tenille</span>- "Muskrat Susie, muskrat Sam, do the jitterbug out in muskrat land" (I don't even know what to say here.)</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Shakira</span>- "Lucky that my breasts are small and humble, so you don't confuse them with mountains" (again, speechless.)<br /><br /></span><strong style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> <span style="font-weight: normal;">4. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Fergie</span>- "And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket" (ok, first of all, it's HIS blanket. Mind your plurals dear F-E-R-G-I-E.)<br /><br />5. <span style="font-weight: bold;">P Diddy</span>- "Young black and famous with money hangin' out the anus" (well, that's just gross.)<br /><br />6. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Timbaland</span>- "I'm respected from Californ-i-a way down to Japan" (k, use the money from your next hit single to buy a globe. Japan is not south of here, Sparkey. oh, and don't say Californ-i-a. you're not a Beach Boy)<br /><br />7. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Wham</span>- "I'm never gonna dance again, guilty feet have got no rhythm" (forget the not dancing and go with the not song-writing, Georgie boy.)<br /><br />8. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Aretha Franklin</span>- "Who's zoomin' who, now the fish jumped off the hook, didn't I baby, who's zoomin' who?" (more like who's "shroomin" who. seriously, what?)<br /><br />9. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Neil Diamond</span>- "I am, I said, to no one there, and no one heard, not even the chair" (can you sing this in a box, can you sing this with a fox?)<br /><br />10. <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Killers</span>- "Are we human, or are we dancers" (I don't know, but I'm pretty sure we're buying ear plugs.)<br /><br /></span></strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">11. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Nelly, Diddy, Murphy Lee</span>- "Is that yo ass, or yo momma half reindeer?" (a reindeer...on acid...could write a better song.)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">13. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bread</span>- "Baby, I'ma want you. Baby, I'ma need you." (baby, i'ma learn me somma dat English language ona deese daze).</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">14. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Kelly Clarkson</span>- "I know that I've got issues, but you're pretty messed up too. Anyway, I found out, I'm nothing without you" (Kel...Celine called. she wants her lyrics back.)</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">15.</span><strong style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> And last but definitely NOT least...<span style="font-weight: bold;">Jimmy Webb</span>- "Someone left the cake out in the rain, I don't think that I can take it, cuz it took so long to bake it and I'll never have that recipe again" (oh. my. God.)</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:trebuchet ms;" > </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ></span><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-37523926301429900702009-01-27T19:18:00.000-08:002009-03-06T09:49:14.661-08:0010 Little Things I Already Knew<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgub-5EXvHfKXMxxsDCs2JEnwdqf2Dh8z9BcWZq-l4p9h9-YY9ukqhQddzjBb-PFPbD4E2f6g8hZEK0Zd2zzMTIC6ddvOY11l3gpMELx05Kq_P6kz4gv6MIn-Y4jqLTSspDAIVuiVHThxg/s1600-h/justin+timberlake.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgub-5EXvHfKXMxxsDCs2JEnwdqf2Dh8z9BcWZq-l4p9h9-YY9ukqhQddzjBb-PFPbD4E2f6g8hZEK0Zd2zzMTIC6ddvOY11l3gpMELx05Kq_P6kz4gv6MIn-Y4jqLTSspDAIVuiVHThxg/s200/justin+timberlake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296562453257882162" border="0" /></a><br />1<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. White chocolate has no business calling itself chocolate</span>.<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2. Dogs take longer to pee when you're in a hurry.</span><br />3. <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> I may never understand the appeal of un-toasted bagels, Justin Timberlake, or televised golf.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">4. Standing near elevators makes me light-headed.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">5.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">6. The Exorcist is a scary-ass movie.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">7. Blue Man Group freaks me out.<br />8. Stacey London's gray hair patch also freaks me out.<br />9. Nobody beats the Wiz (ok, there were only 9 little things I already knew).<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">10. <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Friends and family are all that matter.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-71666239353067922732009-01-20T20:30:00.000-08:002009-01-20T21:46:48.298-08:0010 Little Things 2008 Taught Me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsFSZQ5_iWejY4igXPWXrYfshfkMyeZSDHEtkuPTEevVtbA5oJMcOFuW7t14BZ4yKeZV3PK13uGWbrBiah5EXjg3dq53XDd8fd5fPVB7dARkCtzX7BM1BZFTg-jLtaGf1QdUtrYhyXIw/s1600-h/The+Beatles+Pic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsFSZQ5_iWejY4igXPWXrYfshfkMyeZSDHEtkuPTEevVtbA5oJMcOFuW7t14BZ4yKeZV3PK13uGWbrBiah5EXjg3dq53XDd8fd5fPVB7dARkCtzX7BM1BZFTg-jLtaGf1QdUtrYhyXIw/s200/The+Beatles+Pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293609834968139810" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1. Living with a 21 year old roommate is never boring.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2. Hearing your 21 year old roommate say, "my dad like, listens to the Beatles, but I don't really like, know what they sing," makes you want to impale yourself on your i-home.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3. Dogs really are man's...and woman's...best friends. Even smelly dogs.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">4. In SoCal, when the weather girl says, "we can expect freezing temperatures," she means 59.</span><br />5. <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And, when your friends say, "let's meet at 7," they mean 8:30.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">6. "Mean Girls" often peak in high school. Thank you Facebook.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">7. Earthquakes feel more like swaying than shaking.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">8. California is not as liberal as I thought. Down with Prop 8.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">9. Virtual Memory means RAM and if you buy more you don't need to replace your laptop.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">10. Joe Paterno should not retire...ever. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-72514329060520785362008-12-15T20:24:00.000-08:002009-01-20T21:34:00.159-08:00Dog Day Afternoon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2WtWv7j4IEDmqF0cVD2jGbMjr2zDqPsdtiJ-w1EhuGPYRe-UGkGZOfA-MJLMQSxk2AMBGyLEiL_WxG_LCF_eNXxdXpRASSpChn1b4Oz0jIsBHizi5bFgeWRksrYRFaNWZEAa4r18VfhI/s1600-h/Gingy+Halloween2+08+sm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2WtWv7j4IEDmqF0cVD2jGbMjr2zDqPsdtiJ-w1EhuGPYRe-UGkGZOfA-MJLMQSxk2AMBGyLEiL_WxG_LCF_eNXxdXpRASSpChn1b4Oz0jIsBHizi5bFgeWRksrYRFaNWZEAa4r18VfhI/s200/Gingy+Halloween2+08+sm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273212476313948034" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I wonder. Is it legal to sell your dog on Ebay? If so, I just might consider it.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Dog about Town...or more accurately, Dog About Apartment (actual name, Ginger) is dangerously close to going the way of "gently used" Ugg Boots and "like new" Louis Vuittan hand bags.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Don't get me wrong, I love her dearly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She is, after all, the sweetest canine ever. Narry a mean bone in her 60 lb, once-brown, now-gray, sheds like a motha, Boxer body. But, she is also, and this is why I regularly threaten to put her up on the cyber auction block, as stubborn as the day is long.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A summer day. Not one of these short crappy winter days.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Aside from making sure her basic survival needs are met, Ginger's goal in life appears to be three-fold:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1. smell then immediately jump on all other dogs (not unreasonable)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2. slobber on as many things as possible (annoying, but hardly her fault given the size of her jowls)<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3. make owner crazy (herein lies the problem)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To that end, Dog About Town employs some very high-level tactics against which I have no defense:<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Tactic #1 involves staring and whining (yes, whining. not barking. not howling. whining. like a child. constantly. for reasons I have yet to decipher) for long periods of time each night. I don't know why. I am not even sure she knows why. But I think she knows it annoys the crap out of me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Tactic #2 is to "cute" me into over-feeding her. Tail wagging, head tilting, spinning in circles, offering a paw and growling at her food bowl are all utilized. Tactic #2 is often used in conjunction with tactic #1 which is why she almost. always. wins. And, why she can barely get her fat furry ass up the stairs these days.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Tactic #3 is a stroke of genius, really. Stopping. In the middle of a walk...she just stops. And won't move. Not an inch. I have no idea what's going on in that kibble-sized brain of hers during this maneuver but I can only imagine it's her way of establishing some semblance of control. Like saying, "nobody puts baby in a corner."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Tactic #4a, the hunger strike, is her very best work. The hunger strike can occur at any time for any reason and typically lasts three-four weeks. Seemingly out of nowhere, Dog About Town decides there is more to cuisine than kibble and holds out for something better. Or, sometimes, she's just miffed because I moved her dog bed, or I got home a half hour later than usual, or I fed her at 7:20 am instead of 7:00 am.<br /><br />Or...because I put a pink wig on her for Halloween ;)<br /><br />During a hunger strike, Dog About Town will eat treats. She will eat people food. She will eat paper out of the bathroom trash can. But she will not eat dog food. </span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There is no defense against tactic 4A because, if I don't capitulate within a certain period of time, she employs tactic 4b- fainting. I kid you not. she will pass. right. out.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Fabulous.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Despite her quirks and her apparent devotion to my impending insanity, I suppose I'll keep her a while longer. Unless, of course...someone wants to start the bidding at say $20?? Can't I get $25? Ok fine...I'll give ya a fin to take her ;0</span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-691988412879118556.post-24535335975290492242008-11-17T19:47:00.000-08:002008-11-17T21:12:55.023-08:00Let's Talk Turkey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguBoQi4iexFlJTO9-sHbGFDaQ8CQPXDHAYp_3CEazonZyK-D9OdsKCn0HdNAmJr-FcgFIAgN44lKV8hHjQn-QCGJKx9wOHXRcDxjfCqJ0XxNQrbKuaMp9t0kasNCNEVb08vvLpX3Ht5gg/s1600-h/meals+on+wheels+logo+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 64px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguBoQi4iexFlJTO9-sHbGFDaQ8CQPXDHAYp_3CEazonZyK-D9OdsKCn0HdNAmJr-FcgFIAgN44lKV8hHjQn-QCGJKx9wOHXRcDxjfCqJ0XxNQrbKuaMp9t0kasNCNEVb08vvLpX3Ht5gg/s200/meals+on+wheels+logo+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269858162977756946" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Thanksgiving is right around the corner. And, while we are so blessed with wonderful families and plentiful tables, there are many many people who are not as fortunate living right in our neighborhoods. In an effort to stamp out hunger, please consider donating food or your time to feed the hungry this Thanksgiving.<br /><br />Senior hunger is, heartbreakingly, reaching epidemic proportions in our country. Meals on Wheels is in need of volunteers to deliver food to shut-ins, namely the elderly, on Thanksgiving Day. This meal-delivery service provides a once-daily meal to those who are house-bound and have no means of getting their own food. Further, volunteers for Meals on Wheels are often the only human contact available for seniors who are alone and have no family or friends to visit them. So, a friendly face goes a long way.<br /><br />I realize Thanksgiving is a family-gathering kind of day, but if you live far from family and, like me, have decided NOT to sell a kidney in order to afford flying home, please visit the Meals on Wheels website at <a style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);" href="http://www.mowaa.org/Page.aspx?pid=183">http://www.mowaa.org/Page.aspx?pid=183</a> and offer your time...and your car...to this very important cause.<br /><br />In the DC area, the DC Central Kitchen is always in need of turkey donations so they can supply a nice hot turkey dinner to the hundreds of homeless people they service. You can even make a "virtual" turkey donation on their website, <a style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);" href="http://www.dccentralkitchen.org/">http://www.dccentralkitchen.org/.</a><br /><br />If you live in LA, check out the LA Regional Food Bank at <a style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);" href="http://www.lafightshunger.org/">http://www.lafightshunger.org/</a> and see how you can help feed needy families in the Los Angles area. For west-siders, please visit <a style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);" href="http://mealsonwheelswest.org/?gclid=CJ_B9Kr6_ZYCFQykagodfzo0Yw">www.mealsonwheelswest.org</a><a style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);" href="http://mealsonwheelswest.org/?gclid=CJ_B9Kr6_ZYCFQykagodfzo0Yw"> </a>for volunteer opportunities in and around Santa Monica. And, in NYC, go to <a style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);" href="http://www.citymeals.org/support_landing?origin=ggmealsonwheels.">http://www.citymeals.org/support_landing?origin=ggmealsonwheels.</a><br /><br />Everybody deserves a meal...at least one meal...everyday. Especially on Thanksgiving.<br /></span>girl about townhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06489236026535329856noreply@blogger.com1