Wednesday, March 31, 2004

One more time around the sun...

Today is my birthday and I was thinking this morning that it is a very good thing that this is a planet for slow learners. You know how once you know something intellectually it can still take an incredibly long time to change your behavior, or integrate new behavior.

I have been having a blast today talking with friends who make me laugh and who are learning a lot of the same things I'm learning.

One of the things we were talking about is relationships and how men and women can perceive them so differently even though they're both there, in the relationship, at the same time. For instance how do you know if a guy is your boyfriend, or if he's just "having a good time". I mean the behavior is all the same - you hang out together, you make out, you have sex, if something breaks he fixes it, if he gets sick you take care of him. But if you don't have a "conversation" to define what it is that you're doing - you might be doing two different things.

This can go both ways - there are men who think that they have a girlfriend, but they are really spending time with a women who is just having a good time. It's much more rare though because if a woman is really sexually attracted to a man and wants to jump him, odds are she's going to consider herself to be in a "relationship", not "just having a good time" if all the above behaviors are going on.

Yet, I cannot tell you how many times in my life I have found myself being advised after about four months of relationship type behavior that we were only "just having a good time" and there is much surprise that I thought we were having a relationship. Well guess what? If you don't have the conversation about what the hell you're doing that means there are perceptual options available for both of you and most women are going to pick the "you're my boyfriend" perception because that's what they want to be happening.

And men know this - I mean how many women have you met out there who just want to "have a good time" for months on end without defining it so they know "where this is going"? And the catch-22 in the situation is this: exactly when is a good time to ask the guy you're dating, "so what's going on with us?" Because you ask that question too soon and you run the risk of freaking a guy out. And women know this.

I've taken that class so many times I just have to take a romantic sabbatical.

Tuesday, March 30, 2004

Dazed and Confused

The pollen count is extreme right now. I'm trying to focus on how beautiful all the flowers are instead of my runny nose and sleepy eyes. I'm sitting at the computer attempting to write with focus and discipline but my allergy medication is making me feel a bit disconnected.

I'm also listening to How the West was Won - live Led Zeppelin from concerts at the Forum and the Long Beach Arena, back in 1972. I was lucky enough to go see them live in 1976 and listening to this CD is bringing back all those memories.

What I'm trying to figure out right now is this: do I feel high on drugs when I listen to this CD because I was high on drugs back in the day when I saw the band? OR is this music just trippy and maybe I didn't even need to take the drugs back in the day.

OR am I so old that I get buzzed on Claritin?

I'm just glad that the guy who got drunk and threw up on my shoes at the concert isn't here.

Sunday, March 28, 2004

Isn't it romantic?

I'm just back from a whirlwind trip to the island of Santa Catalina where I attended the wedding of J. & R. I met J. when she was married to different R., and that ended badly. The last time I saw her we were comparing really bad date stories and that was about 2 years ago or so.

Now her current husband is not someone new in her life in fact she's known him for 20 years. They met when she went down to Uruguay for her senior year of high school to learn spanish. She stayed with his godparents and they became friends and fell for each other - the way you do when you're 17 and far from home. She returned home and missed him terribly moping and floating in her pool.

Two years later he traveled from Uruguay to the United States with just $300 in his pocket, to surprise his love, but she had moved on and started college and the timing was all wrong. Undaunted he began to work at California Pizza Kitchen as a pizza chef - the company at that time was only a few years old. Over the years he worked his way up through management to become VP of operations (or is it facilities). They both married other people, and divorced them. And all that time they remained good friends with R. always speaking in glowing terms of J - and deservedly so.

When they decided to get married J. said to R. - can you believe we're finally doing this.

He simply replied, "of course, I've been waiting for you."

Saturday, March 27, 2004


I am up way too early for a Saturday - 7am - especially in light of the fact that I'm sporting a hangover. It's the kind where your eyelids are stuck to your eyeballs and you can't go back to sleep because your body is too uncomfortable to let you sleep. I had a good time getting the hangover via lots of drinks with an old friend whom I haven't seen in a loooooong time. It was nice to fall back into the comfortable ryhthms of repartee. That's a keeper - the person who can come and go and it's always the same. You don't have to get reacquainted there's just a - "oh there you are" smile everytime and it's like no time at all has passed.

Thursday, March 25, 2004

Good Things...

I have completed the project that is my taxes. Every year I swear I will be more on top of things so that I don't have to take a big bag of mostly trash and sort through it in a panic to find my receipts. Every year I find myself sometime in the last two weeks of March frantically going through the large bag of trash. And every year I feel the same sense of relief and accomplishment when it's all filed and totaled. I must like that part a lot because I keep doing this. Every year.

My friend, the Divine and cheeky Ms. A sent me the most fabulous knife ever for my birthday which is quickly approaching. It is from Williams Sonoma and made by Wusthof - those Germans sure do make nice knives - it's name is Santoku. I cannot express what pure pleasure it is to cut, chop and slice with this knife. It gives me freakin' goosebumps. I have sliced and diced everything in my refrigerater. Oh the joy!

Richard Clarke is telling the truth and he apologized to the families of those who died on September 11, 2001. He also stated that this country is no safer, and in fact, is in more danger since the war on Iraq. This may not seem like a good thing, but I'd rather deal with an unpleasant truth any given day than be lied to. You know when you're in a relationship and you know that the person you're relating with is lying to you? This could be a work relationship, a love relationship, a friendship - or the President of the United States, but you know when you KNOW that you're being lied to and it makes you feel like you're crazy because there's a little voice inside you that's going, "you know this just doesn't feel right - there's something not quite right". It's unsettling and causes mild ongoing anxiety. That's how I've been feeling ever since the POTUS has started selling the idea that Saddam Hussein, Iraq and Al Qaeda are like all the same thing. And people BELIEVED him!!! I'm not saying that Saddam wasn't bad and didn't need to go, but c'mon! We're talking about two different sets of crazies here. The crazies that attacked our country and killed innocent citizens are still out there and they have been planning what they're going to do next while people have focused on Iraq. People can say what they want about Richard Clarke being disloyal and playing politics, but I feel like someone has finally stopped playing politics and is telling the ugly truth. And that is a very good thing.

Monday, March 22, 2004

We get a bunch of magazines at the office for research purposes, you know like pop culture stuff. Today the GQ arrived with Viggo Mortenson on the cover looking all Aryan and chiseled. Down in the right hand corner is a banner headline that reads "Sex Toys that Hit the Spot". I want to read this article, but I can't find the table of contents.

I'm on page 20 and so far all I see are lots of ads featuring androgynous ladyboys hawking clothing by Prada, Armani, DKNY. For the most part these guys look gay. Even the really hot guy in the Guess ads surrounded by women who look like the same women who were in the Guess ads in 1992, though he's got some very masculine stubble going, his uni-brow has obviously been waxed.

David Bowie a.k.a. Dorian Gray and his wife Iman selling Hilfiger. On card stock so you can't slip past it even if you want to - which you don't. I can't stop staring at them. They're both so pretty and that bone structure - of course it helps that they're blown out by a tungsten light, but still. Way to go Ziggy Stardust.

So finally on page 33 the table of contents directs me to page 144 through more and more pages of slick ads and upon my arrival I have never been so disappointed in my life. These are not sex toys! There's a scary looking vibrator that looks like it was an extra in the movie Alien, a cockring that could probably be used to massage your cellulite in the shower and a scary violet donut thingy with a hole the size of #2 pencil for male masturbatory pleasure. Now I know that guys like things tight, but I have to wonder about a guy who could 1) get his dong through that tiny hole and 2) enjoy himself whacking off with that thing. It's weird looking and possibly presents health risks.

I have to wonder who reads GQ? I mean it looks like Vogue, Elle or InStyle - those vapid fashion magazines that women read and I don't really believe that straight guys want to read about Viggo or Billy Bob Thornton or 10 Ways to Wear a Polo Shirt. I definitely want to read about Viggo, and even Billy Bob (freaky can be fun) and I love reading anything David Sedaris writes - but I just can't see any of the guys I know reading this at home while copping a squat, or god forbid buying those horrible lime green Ralph Lauren trousers.

Saturday, March 20, 2004

Today is the first day of spring.

I have just spent 4 hours cleaning my living room. Just my living room. Hopefully the rest of the house will be finished by summer.

Friday, March 19, 2004

Make it Stop!

The pain in my head will not go away. Sometime's I think it's gone, but then it slips back in like a dust bunny under the door. Today makes the second in a row that I've woken up at 5am with incredible, spike behind the eye pain. And I feel like a baby complaining when my friend the divine Ms. A has just had her bones sawed apart and screwed back together.

I just wish I had her Percoset presescription.

Thursday, March 18, 2004

I spent most of this morning battling spyware on my computer. It took forever and all I can say is thank God for Leif who works in the MIS department because I was beyond frustrated. Even he got frustrated. And he knows what he's doing.

I think my PC is like a whore in the doorway of a Bourbon street bar.

It picks up EVERYTHING!

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Today it is nasty hot here in the valley. I hate the valley. But then I look at the news and see that it's snowing on the east coast and I feel like one of those people who complain about what a drag it is to be famous.

Which totally just reminded me that I had a dream last night about Jennifer Anniston and Brad Pitt - we were friends and I was on vacation with them. And it totally sucked to be them, or at least to be anywhere near them, because there were all these people with cameras taking pictures.

I think it's so strange that I would dream that and include the paparazzi experience. That has got to go down as my weirdest anxiety dream EVER!

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

I have misplaced my glasses and it's driving me crazy. It's like they've just disappeared into some vortex. I distinctly remember seeing them yesterday morning. They were sitting on the table by my bed and I kept reminding myself to grab them before I left.

So last night when I was getting ready to leave work and they weren't in the case in my purse I thought they'd still be on the table.

But they weren't.

And I have no idea what happened to them. Usually I can retrace my steps and find the missing item. But I have looked high and low and they are nowhere to be found.

I am bummed that my glasses are missing, but I'm starting to wonder if it's the beginning of "old timers". And if this is happening now, well, let's just say that it doesn't bode well for 20 years from now.

Monday, March 15, 2004

Two of my favorite friends came up this weekend and yesterday we went to brunch with another favorite friend at Casa del Mar - a lovely hotel in Santa Monica. I highly recommend the bar for casual lounging and snacks and beverages. After we ate we went shopping for a little bit and we were all getting more and more tired. Ms. C really wanted the fabulous shoes that Ms. J had recently purchased at Nordstrom's so although I was dodging a migraine and wanted to take a nap I suggested we go over to Nordstrom's at the Grove so she could pick'em up. In and out - no biggie. Right? Wrong!

I'm not a mall person and shopping, the browsing kind, is on my list of favorite things to do right after root canal at the dentist. Everyone in the whole city was at this mall when we arrived. I drove to the very top of the parking structure, but I always do that because I love the view from up there and it's easy to remember what floor you parked on. We hit the mall level and stepped into the mob of people who also decided to go to the mall...with their babies, toddlers and strollers, I swear everyone came equippped with kids. We fought against the tide of humanity to Nordstroms and walked into the biggest shoe sale I've ever seen.

Ms. J turned and said to me - this is really an act of love to bring us here on this day. I hadn't thought of it that way, I just wanted Ms. C to get the fabulous shoes, but in retrospect I guess it was because if I had been by myself there's no way I would've been there. I guess most acts of love are probably not thought about. It's when we're thinking about what would please someone we care about and we make an effort to make them happy because that makes us happy.

My mother used to say - back in the days before salad in a bag - that making spinach salad was an act of love because you had to wash each leaf and dry it and it took forever, but it was so worth it because the salad was delicious and everyone loved eating it.

I'm going to try to be more aware of those little acts of love that come my way so I can really feel'em and appreciate'em - I think they rock as do those people who make them happen.

Sunday, March 14, 2004

I'm on day 5 with a migraine. I'm managing with medication but it's starting to make me feel a little anxious. When I look up information about migraines on the internet they describe them as lasting 1 - 3 days. I'm also still feeling the pms - tight heart, nothing is quite right, could snap any second. And then there's my propensity for high drama.

All of which is leading to fantasies of "what if it's a brain tumor" or "what if it's an anuerism that's about to blow". And then - take it back! take it back! take it back - because you know thoughts can manifest into reality.

It's a good thing that being this neurotic and hormonal at the same time is exhausting because I'm too tired to go the emergency room.

On a positive note, if it is a brain tumor I've got a good head start on shaving my head.

Saturday, March 13, 2004

Today I have PMS

and I had an appointment to get my hair cut.

So I cut it all off.

All things considered it turned out better than I ever thought it would.

Friday, March 12, 2004

Can a body be allergic to exercise?

I'm wondering because after 10 weeks of lifting weights 3x a week and doing 20-30 minutes of cardio 5x a week, my body seems to be swelling. What is up with that? It's not like I'm lifting big weight. I struggle with the 5 pound barbells, trembling and straining as a I count to ten.

I am not cheating on the eating either. I eat five little meals a day that include some lean protein and green vegetables. I drink 3 liters of water. No sugar. The only fat is the "good" kind - nuts and olive oil. This requires even more discipline than getting to the gym because I was raised to relate to food as a reward, kind of like a puppy. If I did my homework my mom, whose idea of a cookie was a peanut butter and molasses ball, would toss me a peppermint puff candy. If she'd been offering chocolate I would've been motivated to a 4.0, but I digress.
So after working out my inclination is to have a krispy creme donut and the only reason I don't is because of the florescent lights in the dressing room.

Standing nakes under florescent lights after working out for an hour and 20 minutes, and seeing cellulite is just the most depressing thing ever. And they're everywhere. They're even IN the showers. You know, lighting is key. Blanche du Bois knew this. She traveled with a scarf which she draped over the lamp as she depended on the kindness of strangers. Now this won't work at the gym, but you know what would? Red lightbulbs.

I noticed this one drunken evening when I found myself in a strip club. The all naked kind. Which means no alcohol. And on finding myself there my buzz completely disappeared as I watched these nubile women give the pervy guys at the rail a lesson in gynecology so I fled to the bathroom. I was a tad freaked out yes, but mostly I was filled with self loathing because their bodies were flawless and mine was, well, not. The bathroom was lit with - you guessed it - flourescent lights. And I've got news for you when those nubile young ladies came in to pee and add another layer of make up, not only did they have cellulite on their skinny butts, but they also looked like they were pushing forty. When I went back out to make my friends take me home I looked around and took note of the fact that not only was the lighting low, but the lightbulbs were RED!

You know almost all women have cellulite, even the anorexically thin. I have a friend who works in post-production and she says that all those women in the rock videos and movies are so altered by computers the public has no idea what they've really got going on. She claims to have seen a reel of un-retouched outtakes where things ain't so bootylicious. But sadly, those images are not for public consumption.

So I will continue going to gym and eating my five little meals because I'm really doing that to take care of myself - strong bones and a healthy heart. But I'm going to request that they put some red lightbulbs in the dressing room.

And maybe a stripper pole. I've heard that it's good exercise.

Thursday, March 11, 2004

How do you make God laugh?

Tell him your plans.

Last week absolutely nothing in my life went as planned. In fact it all went horribly wrong. This week I find myself examining my expectations and attachment to outcomes. Last week life sucked and it wasn't fair. I am realizing that time doesn't heal my psychic wounds, it just allows me to shift perspective. And to do high drama and gnash my teeth and lay on the couch and sulk... all weekend.

This week is definitely better than last week.