Only in LA

Since I got a raise at work, I decided to treat myself to ... a diamond ring new car massage housekeeper. I'm still frugal, so I scoured Groupon for a deal, and found Handy. I scheduled a time for someone to come clean my house. Now I usually keep a fairly clean house, but between me, my female roommate and the three cats between us, I get tired of vacuuming. So it was either say fuckitall, or hire a specialist.

I chose the latter.

Well, right on the dot my cleaning lady Maureen rang the buzzer. First strange thing I noticed, she speaks perfect English. Then she arrives at my door, and the second surprise. She is GORGEOUS. No, I didn't accidentally order a stripper-maid, she was a regular maid. She wore shapeless baggy sweats, her hair was in an un-brushed ponytail, but she was just beautiful.

I showed her around and she got to work. Every so often she would ask me a question about something, and toward the end we were both in the same room and started chatting a bit. Lo and behold, my beautiful articulate housekeeper is also ... wait for it ... an actress and screenwriter. She went to school for screenwriting and journalism and has aspirations of acting.

In any other town in America your maid would be an undocumented worker from Mexico or the Philippines or Czech Republic, but not LA. In LA you get yet another wanna-be actress.

"I'm an actress." "Oh really? What restaurant?"

I suppose as far as flexible jobs go, would you rather sling food at assholes or clean up after one? More power to her. And next time I can't deal with vacuuming or get writers block, I know who to call.

Junk in the Trunk

I went out shopping today for shoes and came home with a little black dress. And no shoes. Whoops. I swear, I wasn't even going to go in the fitting room. And yet, there I was, with this cute little black thing draped over my arm that had leapt from the rack to my grabby little mitts. Everything happened so quickly that I didn't even look at the size. I only saw that it was Kenneth Cole and marked down to $40 from $128. And that it was so cute!

Well, as I'm ripping off my clothes in the fitting room wishing I wasn't wearing a sports bra, I happen to glance at the size. It is a 2.

Just so we're clear, these are the types of women that wear a size 2:

I usually wear a size 6, maybe a size 8 if it runs "smaller" in the booty. (What? I have junk in my trunk carried by my child-bearer hips) If it has more "generous" sizing, I might be able to squeeze myself into a 4. But a TWO???

I haven't worn a two since... since... well, since never! I went straight from kiddie sizes to sprouted hips in one fell swoop. I remember being in middle school and wishing I had the ruler shaped bodies of my schoolmates, thinking I was fat because my body curved out from my waist.  (Lord don't get me started on my 12 year old self's body image!)

Well, I had already stripped off my clothes so I figure, what the heck? It will be too small. I won't be able to get it over my now-loved hourglass shape (read: hip bones and booty and junk). I'll just try to get it on to see if I should even hunt and search for a bigger size. --there was only one on the rack, hence my quick snatch and run to the fitting room. I prepare to suck in the guts as far as they will go, think thin thoughts, step in and -- WHAT THE WHAT??? Praise stretchy fabric and it's smooth ride over my hide!

Always! Gawd, Marilyn, you're so smart. 

Ok, so it fits over my rump, surely the long sleeves are going to be way to short on my gangly arms. I pull the dress all the way up, zip up the back and... do mine eyes deceive me? Does this LBD actually fit?? I have to look at my reflection no less than four mirrors just to verify that I don't look like sausage being squeezed out of its casing.

BTW, don't google "sausage casing" unless you want to be grossed out.
I don't think I will be eating that again. ever. Berf.

Well, even if the four mirrors at the store lied, I came home and tried it on for the roomie, and she agreed that it fit! Wahoooooo!!!! (does happy dance)

Mama's got a new LBD! ...now if only I had somewhere to wear it...

Sleepless in Seattle

Actually, I was sleepless before Seattle. Specifically, the night before. Remember the cute boy I met in Vegas? He flew me out to see him... three weeks after. I was nervous, to say the least! How do you sleep when you are going to fly a thousand miles to see someone you met twice while drunk in a city that imbues inhibition, and you've only traded some flirty texts and a few phone calls since?

Gahhhh!!! I'm getting on a plane!!! Gahhh!! It is landing in Seattle!!! GAHHHH THERE IS A GUY WAITING FOR ME!!!!! geez get a hold of yourself.

I don't know if it was the nip in the air (fucking Seattle!) or the copious amounts of booze I drank, but I warmed up to Todd* pretty quickly and the three days was spent laughing and having the best time. Plus I got to see Rachel the pig, Pike's flying fish, salmonell-ebol-hepatiti-gum-wall, a really big Needle, rode a ferris wheel (Bueller... Bueller... Bueller...) and went to a real actual not-fake speakeasy!

and it pretty much looked exactly like this

At said speakeasy, I ordered a drink called "director's choice" aka whatever the bartender wanted to make. I chose vodka and asked him to make it sassy! Well, let's just say it was more than hair whipped back and forth plus two snaps and a twist! Bowl'o'vodka with a dash of habanero. Yeehaw!

It was a whirlwind, and I didn't want it to stop blowing.  But that blustery gale swooped me up and plopped me smack dab back into reality.

Fine. I'll go back to my life. I'll date someone a thousand fucking miles away. I'll take six dates in three days and then no dates for weeks. I'll do whatever I want! (sticks out tongue and PPLBTHTHTHT!) I love being a grown up.

just call me Dorothy (Gale -- get it?)

*name changed to protect the not-so-innocent

Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. And sometimes it rains.

Hoo-eee lawdy! Sometimes getting the heck outta dodge is just what you need to mix up your life a little bit! I just got back from Las Vegas with my bestie Claire, where we got thunderstorm-ed upon, partied it up, relaxed by the pool, threw money at the tables, and saw a show. Whew. I am tiiirrred. I need a vacation from my vacation!

Shortly before the trip I had figured out that I was going to ask for a raise at my job, but there was no timeframe on exactly when I was going to do this; I was just going to wait for the "right time."

This bird has good timing. 

The last day on the trip I got a really really random call to come in for an interview to work on a popular TV show, and it could be regular work. Huh.

And then, piece de resistance, I had met a new boy in Vegas! He's cute! He's successful! He's tall! ... and he lives in Seattle. Meh.

So now that I'm back, I have a timeline to asking for a raise (I got it!!) and I also went to the interview (and got that job too!!!)

And my new un-boyfriend has picked dates to fly me to Seattle!!!!!!!

BOOM

GRATITUDE

One week ago I was challenged by one of my oldest friends to publicly list on Facebook three things I was grateful for each day for a week.  What an amazing challenge. I may complain a lot, but I really do have so many wonderful things and people in my life.  Big realizations:

1. I am not my circumstances.  And, my circumstances are pretty good - uhm, hello? First world country? Yes please.

2. I have some truly amazing people in my life.

3. I really love wine.

What was wonderful is I was able to challenge some people who don't normally post mushy gushy motivational positive shit on their updates. I was also able to spread it to several different friend-groups.

So here's my challenge to you, dear reader, give it a go. List three things each day you are grateful for. And you can't list them in your head. You gotta facebook, insta, tweet, vine your gratefuls.  The good news is you can challenge others! Let's do this. Let's spread some goodness in this world.

Here are three images I found under the search "spread love."

Awwww...

Uhmm...

what the...

And just a final note... I found these images on Bing.  Yes, that's right, I said BING.com.  Wtf happened to Google search? It used to be that you could look at the pictures without being taken to the host website, and now, you can't preview the picture bigger than it's thumbnail, you click and it takes you to the site (whatever site that may be...) which might be a site you don't want to go to and sometimes the advertised picture isn't even there! What the hell is the world coming to that I would actively choose BING??? (sigh) Grateful Shmateful.

***UPDATE***
apparently it is my dumb old computer that makes google image search shitty. I have an older version of Safari that can't be upgraded unless I upgrade my computer. Shitty computer. But I don't want to buy a new one, so... shitty old computer is my computer for now.

Ain't that a sexy beast? 

history lessons. also known as LIFE ISN'T FAIR.

Just to back-track a little bit and give you a brief history, nearly 11 months ago when I was in love and atwitter, my then-darling and I went to a timeshare presentation in order to get a free trip to Hawaii. He desperately wanted the free trip, as he has never been. It was three days and two nights, and they pick the flight, the accommodations, etc. So basically you have the chance of being dumped in Hawaii at 6PM Tuesday evening and leaving 6AM Thursday (yes it HAS to be tues - thurs) And yes, friends, that is ten hours of flying for possibly 36-48 hours of time in Hawaii. Not worth it in my book. But I was in LERRRRRVE, and so I went for it.

Now, to see the time share, you had to qualify. One of the things to qualify was to be over 30. That made only one of us qualify (me). So the trip is mine, technically... A VERY long story short, we called and emailed and courier pigeon and stalked them for a couple months before we were able to nail down the soonest possible date: Sept 2014. About a year away...

Cut to Jan 2014 - My sweet darling rips the rug out from under my feet and the heart from my chest and breaks up with me. So, I do what any woman would do. No, I don't key his car or start a smear campaign on Facebook (although the thoughts crossed my mind). I cancel the romantic getaway to Hawaii.  These free trips are very strict. You cannot change your travel partner, your dates, your anything once it has been set.  There is no way in H-E-DOUBLEHOCKEYSTICKS I am going on a romantic getaway to Hawaii by myself, and there is NO FUCKING WAY I am going on a romantic getaway to Hawaii with my got-a-new-girlfriend-within-three-weeks-ex-boyfriend.

Well, he emails me not too long ago asking about the trip.  "Were you planning on going? I am." uhmmm, WHAT?? Did you forget you dumped me and my trip to Hawaii?

Anyway, he got really hurt that I didn't consult with him before canceling "our" trip and wanted me to apologize for not asking him if it was ok for me to cancel the trip. Last I checked, you were MY plus-one. Secondly, how on earth did you imagine that conversation going???

him: Hey, you still planning on going to Hawaii? I am.

me: Yeah, I'm going.

him: Cool. Wanna share a taxi to the airport?

me: Sure. And since we're sharing a plane and a hotel room, why don't we join the mile-high club?  

or how about

him: You still planning on going? I am.

me: No, I think that might be awkward. You go ahead though. I was the injured party, but your narcissism trumps my broken heart. 

him: Cool, thanks. Want me to bring you back a lei?

or this

him: You going? I am.

me: No, I'm going.

him: No, I am.

me: NO, I AM.

him: NO, I'M THE ONE THAT WANTED IT MORE, IF YOU DON'T GIVE IT TO ME I'LL NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN AND CRY LIKE A LITTLE BABY.

Fucking idiot.  How did he ever think there would be an amiable outcome to a trip to Hawaii between exes? Here's a clue, there isn't. So take your $50 you paid for the taxes on the trip and go find yourself a timeshare presentation where you don't have to be at least 30, and get your own damn trip. You can even take your new girlfriend.

And I'll be here, Bitter Betty, party of one... so sexy. Maybe I should post this to my online dating profile...

mad props to the DMV (you saw that right, I said DMV)

What is a trip to the DMV? Typically, one imagines soul-less vaguely human-shaped blobs or something ala The Simpsons/Marge's sisters who could give a rat's ass about you, your life, or anything at all and day wasted waiting.

Patty and Selma

I had made an appointment, but was not hopeful. When I arrived I was greeted by a woman who looked like she didn't care who got what they came for or not. She barely waved her hand through the air (like some strange Queen's wave from an alternate universe) indicating that whomever was next should come to her counter while simultaneously pondering the meaning of life at the DMV (staring into space).  I walked up and handed her my paperwork. After a short and painless interview of why I was there, she gave me a number and told me to wait until I was called.

I looked for a seat, and saw that they were nearly all full. I sat in between a young woman who looked perturbed at life (as most teens are) and immersed in the music on her phone and on the other side two korean women chatting away about who knows what. I settled in for what I was sure would be a while, based on the number of people waiting.

Lo and behold, my number was called so quickly I barely had time to fill out the required form and update my facebook status.  The woman who filed the paperwork was fast, thorough, and smiled (!). I was almost sad to leave her to go wait in the picture line.

I jet over to the other side of the DMV to wait in the picture line, which was only about 5 or 6 people long. I got a little worried when the guy in front of me was tweaking and about an hour late for his next hit of whatever. He couldn't stand still, kept scrunching his shoulders up around his ears, looking around anxiously. He turned and smiled at me and said something unintelligible through about 50% missing and 50% rotting teeth.

He asks the people in front of him if they would mind if he went in front of them. They all took one look, and wisely let him ahead.  Things were going so smoothly! Almost too smoothly...

I get to the front of the line, and another lovely (!) DMV worker was sweetly taking pictures, complimenting people, and trying to make things go faster (!!!!!!).  She was the only one operating the cameras, and was attempting to make two of them go at the same time to get the line through faster. All was going so well when... oh no. Hourglass of death on the computer. My face broke the computer. And (according to darling DMV lady) was a really cute picture! Man!

She had to restart the computer, and then my file was vanished! Oh no! Would I have to go through the whole process again??? My heart sank. She handed my paperwork to another DMV'er who tried to fix things, then that woman had to hand it off to yet another DMV'er and my heart sank even lower... Just as my paper was going to float away not only into the ether of the DMV computer network but to the rows of neverending cubicles, my sweet Angel of the DMV photo-lady found my file on the restarted computer! Hurrah! The cute pic didn't save, so I had to take another one.  This one was not nearly as cute. The A/C wasn't exactly "working" in this area of the building so I was a little hot and bothered (read: sweaty) by this time, and am pretty sure slick tendrils of hair had plastered themselves to my face. This picture didn't break the computer however, probably because it was a bad picture. I think it is against DMV policy to have a good driver's license picture. Oh well, who cares? I was outta there IN LESS THAN ONE HOUR!!! So I gotta say, Mad Props to the Hollywood DMV for being efficient, nice, and providing free parking!!