Don't call me on Wednesdays

One mail-order bride, one new mother, two full-figured gals, lots of bad weaves, a couple of Jays and Miss Tyra Banks---Looks like another drama-filled season of America's Next Top Model.

I already hate Natasha and Sarah. I'm calling Renee* an early favorite.



*This post was sent before the end of the show. I take it back. If Renee cries one more time about how much she misses her son and how "this is all for him," I'm going to choke her. If you can't handle being away from your child, then you shouldn't have signed up for this gig. He's 7 months old! What were you thinking anyway?

In which I laugh out loud at possibly sexual things

I have already admitted to my inability to hear the word "tool" without laughing...and balls...(giggle). Yes, I'm 12.
So imagine my reaction when I heard the name of the show that comes on after Carson Daly:

Poker After Dark

I'm still giggling. What's on after this? Liquor At Dawn?

Jerry, I'd like you to meet comedy. I believe you dated once.

Well, I'm in my Post-Oscar haze, having spent a lovely evening at Chez Faith watching her glorious LCD television instead of my crappy old (free) one. And I'm not here to talk about the fashions, although Hello Diane Keaton wearing a dress and showing your neckline. You looked scrumptious! As did Cate Blanchett, Gwynneth Paltrow, Kate Winslet, and more. Catherine Deneuve, why did you have a dagger through your heart? And why was it bleeding down the front of your dress? It seemed a peculiar accessory.

No, I'm here to talk about how funny Ellen DeGeneres was. She was great. I love me some Ellen. Always have. I thought she was hysterical. I loved her getting a picture with Clint for her MySpace page. Ellen, well done.

I even enjoyed the brief (Thank God) "why does Oscar hate comedy" bit with Will Ferrell, Jack Black and John C. Reilly.

Here's my beef: Why the hell was Jerry Seinfeld doing a stand up routine, and not a funny one, in the middle of the Oscars? As many of us at the party said, "They cut off Jennifer Hudson but leave this?" No wonder the show went long. Really, who did he sleep with to get on the Oscars? It wasn't funny--at all--and frankly, it was rude. He basically insulted the nominees. Oh, and Jerry, the movie theater employees who are stuck picking up the trash that your overpaid, pampered ass dropped on the floor are not paid nearly enough to put up with shit from people like you who think it is your right to leave a mess just because you paid to get in. The theater employees are NOT the ones setting the prices for admission and concessions and are often making little more than minimum wage, so don't be a fucking asshole and take your trash out to the trashcan like a big boy. And get off the stage. You're not funny anymore.

Okay, I'm happy now that I've gotten that off my chest.
PS...I loved Jack Nicholson's stalker-like presence in the wings during the last 20 minutes of the show. And HOORAY for Marty! Awwww for Peter. I love me some O'Toole, too.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Lunch has left the building

I'm sick.
It's not pretty.
Think good thoughts for me.

Wednesday wonders

It didn't fit... you know the rest.I've never seen a black latex glove before. I wonder what purpose one has for a black latex glove. Is it a fashion statement? Actually, I don't think it was latex. It looked more like a hefty back.

If you're going to market an extra large cup, shouldn't you provide a straw that fits?

I went to a meeting today and this guy, this absolutely gorgeous man, came walking in. It was like that scene in "West Side Story" where Maria and Tony see each other across the dance floor and everyone else disappears. It was like every episode of The Monkees when Davey Jones would look at the pretty girl of the week and get stars in his eyes. He was that hot.
Then he spoke.
He sounded like Cliff Claven. I put two fingers on his lips and said, "No, no, my love. Don't speak. Words will only destroy this magic between us."
Then I woke up from my fantasy, took his money and sent him to the coffee table.

The school I used to attend--the one I quit a month ago--sent me a letter today to tell me my tuition was increasing. Wow, crack secretarial staff they have over there. Way to keep up the records.

I want spaghetti. with meatballs.

Things that did and didn't suck today

Things that did:

• I got to work on time today and had to wait in the conference room for someone to let me into the office because I don't have a key to my own office. The people with a key didn't arrive until nearly 9:00. I feel like an hour of productivity was stolen from me.
• I didn't go to lunch until 3:30.
  
• I didn't change my shoes to walk down to the cafe, and now I have blisters on the balls of my feet.
• Before leaving for the cafe, I told Terry how much I hate raw onions and cooked green peppers. Guess what was on my Veggie Burger?
  
• That DVD from Netflix is now scheduled to arrive on Friday because it's shipping from Flushing, New York. However, Season 1, disc 2 is in my living room right now, as is Season 2, disc 1. Neither of which I can watch until Friday, when Season 1, disc 1 arrives.
  
• When I pulled up in front of the house, a strange woman was sitting on my front stoop.

Things that didn't:

• I got a present from my sister. It was a lollipop and a heart-shaped picture frame. I love my Katie.
• My hair looked awesome today. I blew it straight and it turned out silky and shiny.
• The sweater I wore today gave me some coquettish cleavage. (where are the menfolk when you're perfectly adorable?)
• Once in my office, I was very productive and felt good about it.
• The strange woman had the cutest puppy with her. It looked like this (below) but with happier eyes.

Saturday was a bust

I'm no Catherine, but here goes a haiku to start you off:

Furniture job sucks.
Damn you, Wilshire Boulevard!
Noodle Time, my reward.

I went back to the furniture place on Wilshire. This time, the little man behind the security desk asked me where I was going. Friday, I just followed others to the elevators without incident. I told him, but he had never heard of the company. I showed him on the company directory.
"Fine," he said, "but you have to sign in." Okay, I have no problem with that. I head to the closest elevators. As I was getting on, a young boy got on as well and pushed the button for the 18th floor. This is when I noticed that the elevator buttons started at 14 and I needed to go to the 7th floor. Oops.

I came back down and, passing the desk, said, "Wrong elevators."
"Oh yeah," he said, "they're for the upper floors. You have to use these."
"Thanks," I replied, shaking off my sarcasm.

On the proper elevator, I pushed the 7. The elevator went to 9. I pushed 7 again. It stayed at 9. I pushed 7 again. It still stayed at 9. I pushed "door open" and got out. I tried another elevator, but as long as that one was staying at 9, no others would come. So I reached my arm in and pushed G, then waited for it to leave the floor. Then I called for another elevator. I got in and pushed 7. It stayed at 9. What the hell is going on here????? I pushed 8, and it went to 8. I pushed 7, and it went to 9. In defeat, I pushed G, and descended into despair.

Walking past the desk, I said to the helpful little man, "the elevator wouldn't go to the 7th floor."
"Oh yeah," he nodded. "That's 'cause they closed today. Elevator doesn't stop when they closed."
"That would've been helpful ten minutes ago," I replied as I left.

But, oh, the Noodle Time is just around the corner and the beef chow mein...it called to me so. Even though I had Pad Thai the night before and still had some in the fridge, so not the same.

OH, And THEN...I stopped by Big Lots for some trash bags, because I refuse to pay Hefty prices for something that is made to be thrown away, and right there outside the store was a guy peeing. Not off in a corner somewhere, no. He was peeing just to the left of the entrance doors, facing the wall at least. I defy anyone not to at least sneak a peek. The Big Lots crowd didn't seem to mind at all. And, there's a bathroom right inside the store. It's not policed or anything and the three old ladies that work there aren't going to throw him out.

So I picked up my trash bags, some paper towels and was searching for batteries, when Mr. Pee-body comes up and asks me if I know where the cheese and crackers are. And what do I say? "Do you mean the crackers with the cheese in between, or the ones with the cheese that you spread yourself? I think they're in that second aisle." I'm nothing if not polite, even to men who pee outside. Later, as I was looking for plastic storage stuff, I saw him in the back of the store eating the cheese and crackers, clearly with no intention to pay for them. Tsk, tsk...what do I expect from a guy who pees in public.

I couldn't get a nail appointment, I didn't get my estimates (I hope they're open on Monday) and I didn't get the DVD that Netflix (you bastards) told me was shipping Friday and now won't ship until Monday meaning I won't get it until Tuesday! There's nothing on TV Saturdays. I had to watch Cast Away for the umpteenth time. It was a TV series disc, and really they should send both because I have the 3-at-a-time plan and ZERO DVDs in my home at this time.

I'm washing the car today. It's tantamount to doing a rain dance.

I really wanted noodles

Wilshire Boulevard in Koreatown is a sucking hole of bad drivers, a million buses, no parking and not a Bank of America in sight. (I know! There's always a B of A)

I had to go to another furniture store in my quest for three bids on office furniture and said store was allegedly at 3530 Wilshire Blvd. , which is around Wilshire and Normandie/ Irolo. Now 3540 is the home of that finger printing place I visited a few weeks back and damn if I didn't work up a hunger for some Noodle Time beef chow mein. mmm...noodles. But first I had to find a freakin' B of A to deposit my check and get some cash for the parking and the noodles. I took a cursory drive by and 3530 is a high rise. I think. You can't really be reading numbers on buildings on Wilshire in Koreatown. I continued up Wilshire looking for the familiar blue and red sign that would lead me to cash in pocket, but none was to be found. I went around the block at Western (no easy feat, that) and down 6th. Still no bank. Oh, that's not true. There were plenty of Korean banks, a Wells Fargo, a Bank of The West and a Citicorp, but not MY bank. What gives?

I finally ended up scraping together enough with change and the few bills I did have on my person to park in a structure and found the furniture place. I picked up a catalog from the less-than-helpful staff, which I will peruse and give them a list to price out for me on Saturday.

But, alas, I had no money for the noodles. Miso sad.
(Noodle Time serves all types of Asian foods, so I'm using that in proper context...just so no one thinks I'm ignorant, you know, being in Koreatown and all)

I always wanted to be a shipping magnate

This is the job offer I got today via email:

We would like to suggest you a job of a Post Manager in our company. We are ordering goods from USA. But unfortunatelly some internet shops do not send it to other counties. They send it only within USA. If you agree to work for us, we will pay you about 1000$ per month. Your task will be: 1) Order the goods ( writing paper ) 2) Pay them (it's cost is about 500$ - 1000$) 3) Get them 4) Send them to us using DHL After we get the goods, we pay you goods cost and your salary (we will transfer your cash using Western Union). You will have to order these goods once per month. So it will not take you much time If you are instrested in this job or if you have any questions, please e-mail us. We will need your 1) Full name 2) Mail address 3) Mobile telephone number

Oh yeah. Sign me up now.

I want to kiss a boy until my lips hurt.

This is the "How To..." on my Google homepage this morning: How to French Kiss.

This is my favorite part:
Kissing should be a shared decision. You need to have permission to French kiss someone, but when your lips are locked with theirs you may want to stop and ask, "Hey, this is great, but can I put my tongue in your mouth?"

Go on, read it for yourselves. You never know, a refresher course could add some zing to your usual make-out sessions.

Happy Valentine's Day! Or as I see it, Happy "thanks-for-reminding-me-I'm-single" Day!

Move, already

That's what you're going to say. I know. I can hear you all in a Hallelujah chorus of friends screaming, "Oh My God! Get out of that apartment and quit yer bitching." I will...I am getting out, but I had to dip into my savings when I was unemployed and then employed but making less than I needed to get by, so I have to regroup and save up for the security deposit. I just have to share this transgression, which happened yesterday, I'm sure, and I just noticed today.

The switch plate for the hall light, which I can't use because of some electrical problems, is crooked and ugly. So, I covered it with a nifty promotional switch plate sticker for the movie Wonderland. The sticker looked like this picture (below) only there was a hole cut out for the switch. I'll let you guess where the hole was.
This is what the switch plate looks like now:
That bitch tore off Val's crotch!!! How dare she!!! That sticker has been there since the movie came out and she must have passed by it more than a dozen times. So now she's Frau Moral Compass and decides it has to come off? No! As long as I live there and pay the rent on time I could paint a mural of dwarfs having sex on the living room wall and she can't say a word as long as it's NOT there when I move out. I do have to laugh a little picturing her scraping it off and muttering her indignation in her native tongue.

Oddly, she has never said a word about this, which is stuck to the bathroom mirror. And she had better not, if she knows what's good for her.

Look what I got

A brand spanking new faucet with a proper seal, and new pipes under the cabinet, which I didn't photograph 'cause it's dirty and gross under there and I didn't feel like cleaning.

Can you believe that Frau Slumlord still finds nothing wrong with using my towel to mop up the water? She was actually bitching to the downstairs neighbors that I was a "complainer" because I told her off about the towel. Unbelievable! I'm a complainer? This piece of shit apartment is falling apart and I never say a word, but I tell her I was angry about the towel and that makes me a complainer. Frakkin' Stunt.

But that sure is a pretty faucet.

Singing the "I hate my apartment" blues

It was raining when I woke up this morning, so naturally I thought the dripping I heard was the rain. I went about my day--laundry, surfing the net for office furniture bargains, reading blogs--you know, the important stuff. Then, I went into the bathroom around 5:30ish, after the rain had been gone for most of the day, and heard dripping still. Huh? (imagine a dog tilting its head sideways)
I checked under the sink and lo and behold, there was a drip....more like a dribble...oh, hell, it was running like Niagara. I turned the water off under the sink which slowed it down to a dribble again, but not before the water ran downstairs into Maria Elena's kitchen again. Fortunately, Maria Elena isn't home so I got to deal with her lovely daughter, Jennifer, who is just as fed up with Frau Slumlord as I am. She called Frau first. I told Jen to tell her that I had turned off the water and put a bucket under the leak but she needed to send someone--preferably a certified plumber--out on Monday.

Frau called me just a few minutes ago and said, "what did you do?" What did I do? What didn't your so-called plumber do? I explained to her, patiently at first, that the leak is not in the faucet area, but rather coming from the pipes under the sink. After I made it clear to her that it is my bathroom that's leaking and not my kitchen (honestly, the woman owns the building. You'd think she'd know a little something about the floor plans.) I tried to make her understand that the leak is behind the under-sink cabinet.

Frau: But we put a brand new one on there.
Me: It doesn't look new. It looks like the same pipes that were here since the Eisenhower administration.
Frau: It's brand new! (loudly)
Me: I'm not talking about the faucets underneath. This problem is behind the cabinet.
Frau: Well, maybe you could wrap something around it and it will hold...(I stopped listening)
Me: LISTEN TO ME! This is not a quick fix job anymore. You need to bring in someone qualified. And you're going to have to remove this cabinet and get to the pipes behind them and into the wall. THAT is where the leak is originating.
Frau: (somewhat defeated) Well, I guess we'll see what it looks like tomorrow.
Me: And make sure the plumber doesn't use my towel again.
Frau: We had a flood.
Me: That's no excuse. A REAL plumber would have been prepared for that. It was disgusting and uncalled for.
Frau: We rinsed it out. (Is she actually trying to justify that?)

Just to be safe, I'm going to remove my towels and anything that plugs from the bathroom. Keep your fingers crossed for a relatively clean bathroom and a sink that works.

One more thing

So, in getting the hyperlink for Sagittarius, I clicked on a link that said, "Find out who your soul mate is, right down to their name." I'm a sucker.
I clicked my gender--Female, my sign--duh...and they sent me the following message:

Your soul mate's name is Joanna.

D'oh! I guess the folks back home were right about me all along and all the men in my past were just beards.

Meet "Friday Laurie"

I'm a pretty easy going kind of gal. Some might say too much so, but eh. I'm a Sagittarius. We're like that. I do not handle stress well. I tend to lose sleep and become non-nonsense girl, instead of the fun-loving quipster you all know and love.

This morning, after only a few hours of restless sleep last night, I arrived at work tired, cranky, and hardly my prettiest. So, when an additional project crossed my desk this morning, I responded thusly:

"Balls! I'm gonna need some coffee to deal with this shit."

Poor Sergio. He didn't know what to make of me. He looked at me, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline and said timidly, "Balls?"
To which I replied, "Meet Friday Laurie. You'd do well to stay away."

Then I got lost in Tarzana, but that's a story for another time.

I'm tired and very busy

Sorry Folks. I'll try to entertain you this weekend. I'll be doing laundry again, so I'm sure to have fodder. Right now I've got too many things going on at work to think.
(sigh)
Bear with me. I'll be the same buxom babe with the bawdy banter you've come to know and love in no time--or I'll eat my gingham.

Shun the non-believer!

You need sound for this, but its so worth it.

Equal time to keep the balance

It's all about balance. Good vs. Evil, Light vs. Dark, Dick York vs. Dick Sergeant. So, in keeping with the balance of nature, here's a list of commercials I hate. Also, I may have nothing to say again.

Heartburn, Nausea, Indigestion--Dear Pepto-Bismol: Everyone knows what your product does. No one needs to see people pinching their ass to keep from pooping--especially a very scary Paul Bunyon or giant Amazon woman. I cannot change channels fast enough. And why didn't the ballerina's mention diarrhea? Don't pink ballerina's get the runs?

Talking diseases--Mucus is not cute. Nail infections are not cute. Please stop trying to make them cute.

Tom Tom--Annoying Annoying.

The Grillmaster--El Pollo Loco's suave Latin stud disturbs me for some reason. I think he reminds me of Roberto Lopez, a self-described Latin stud I used to work with.

Head On--No, not the original ones in which they kept repeating the tag line. I'm talking about the new ones in which some fan of the product interrupts the commercial to say how much they hate the commercial but love the product. The woman with the crazy eyes is scary hideous. Lady, brush your hair!! (this is for you, Tower folk) She looks like Marc Arata's sister.

Earthlink couples--Aren't they cute, with all their zipping and yapping? (puke) When the wife with the stopwatch says "Should have bought 60 seconds," I want her husband to reply, "Well maybe if you shut yer yap..."

Country Crock--Speaking of couples that make me vomit, can we ditch this ad campaign? They have been using this headless couple for over ten years. At least they've finally given them a child--who has a head. To think it all started with James Garner and Mariette Hartley.
[I stand corrected. James Garner and Mariette Hartley hawked Polaroid. Thanks to Ellen Bloom, the maven of all things TV, for setting me straight. For the record, I love James Garner...but I still hate the Country Crock ads.]

Lavalife--Sure, hot women are staying home on the weekends making calls and leaving messages to hook up. And what the hell is "coffee dinner"?

Closet World--They have tried in vain to upgrade these commercials, but until they get rid of that stupid ass dancing robot thing I will hate them. Hate, hate, hate.

I'm sure there are more, but I'm sleepy. I invite you to share your most hated commercials.

Tina, Gary and the whirlwind birthday celebration

Last night was the annual Tina's Birthday Extravaganza!! Since Gary's birthday is next week, it was Gary's birthday extravaganza too. (oh, who are we kidding...it was all about Tina)
First off, we had a lovely intimate dinner for 25 at Claim Jumper in Northridge. mmm, Claim Jumper with steaks as big as your head. I started with a Milky Way Martini (chocolate + alcohol = yum) and an appetizer of Tomatoes and Mozzarella. For dinner I had the Parmesan Encrusted Chicken with mashed potatoes (which were really just kind of smooshed up, not mashed). They stuck a sprig of Pine Tree (way to recycle those Christmas trees) in the potatoes. I'm allergic to Pine, but I survived.

The scene was pure chaos and our waiters, Russell and Furb (I swear), were terrific, especially Russell who was patient and adorable. After we managed to figure out who's meal was on which check and who paid what, the entourage headed to Hollywood for the 10:00 show at the Laugh Factory.

Fortunately, Tina had the foresight to order our tickets online. We stood in line forever only to find by the time we got in there that the VIPs (who got seated first) took all the seats. We were ushered upstairs where you could either sit and not see the comedians or stand. It was hot. People were grumpy. One particularly obnoxious guy refused to buy his two drink minimums unless they found him a seat. Several waitresses threatened to bring up a security guard, but one never materialized, which was good because this asshole was already ruining my fun by getting louder and louder; having him thrown out would have totally killed my buzz.

Our first comedian was Ian Edwards. He writes for the Comedy Central cartoon of The Boondocks (not the comic strip). He was pretty funny, did some racial humor. If you follow the link you can see some of the material he did last night.

Somewhere in this portion of the evening, Tina fainted. It was really hot and she may have locked her legs, we don't know. I was all the way across the room and the next thing we knew, Tina was going down and her sister-in-law was motioning for Gary to come over. Poor Tina was escorted out to the lobby area, where she was given some water, and had her picture taken with our next comedian...

Paul Rodriguez. I didn't link him because I'm sure you all know who he is. Paul looked like he was sitting at home in his La-Z-boy when they called him and said, "Ese, you're supposed to be on stage in five minutes." He was funny, but he looked tired.

The best part of the evening was Jeremy Hotz. This guy had me laughing so hard I think I peed a little. Check out some of the clips on his site, all of which he performed last night and more. He was very, very funny and worth the price of admission, the two drinks, and the standing for two hours.
[edited] Tina, Gary and her sisters stayed afterwards for the Midnight show. At 2:00am, just as they were about to leave, the host said they had a surprise comic--Dane Cook!! I am suitably jealous, but happy that Tina and Gary had a great birthday (and got their picture taken with him, too).

Today's the Super Bowl. I'd better get my laundry done so I can get home in time. I was going to do the non-football thing at Unwind and take advantage of their 50% off sale, but I slept too late. Oh well.

GO BEARS!

[edited] By now we know the Bears let it slip through their fingers, literally and figuratively.

So Angry...Must Not Kill...Arrrggghh!!!!

Last night when I came home, I was ambushed by Frau Piss-me-off and Latina Gladys Kravitz the second I parked my car. The drippy bathroom faucet was worse than I thought and was leaking inside the cabinet, through the floor, and eventually into Gladys's kitchen. Frau told me she would call a plumber and hope to get one out today. If not, maybe she could look at it; it might just need a washer.
Today, after a bad day and even worse traffic, I came home to the sure signs that someone had been in my apartment. And this:
THAT'S MY TOWEL!!!
My formerly-clean, pretty pink towel that was hanging here when I finshed drying my hair this morning:

Note the empty hook where my towel used to be.

Now, one would assume that a plumber would anticipate a large amount of water as part of his regular work day and therefore come prepared for it. A plumber, unless he was hired this morning outside of the Home Depot, should NOT use the tenants clean towel to mop up water and then leave it in a filthy wet heap in the tub. THAT'S UNACCEPTABLE!!!!!
Even if the Frau was the one who fixed the sink , it's still unacceptable. Now my towel smells and it's so dirty I don't want to touch it.

And guess what? There's still a leak.

On a happy note, I have four bottles of wine to choose from and the trees are gone. See?I'm think Chardonnay.

You may call me Diana Prince...or

WONDER WOMAN!!
No, I didn't do anything fantastic and deserving of this title. I do, however, apparently possess an invisible mode of transportation. How else can I explain that no less that three times this week, some jackass has merged into my lane and nearly into my car. Fortunately, I have lightning quick reflexes and neatly avoided impact. Tuesday's incident was pretty hairy. I think I actually felt a whisper of contact between my front bumper and her rear bumper as I braked hard to avoid her.
Today's dipwad simply unapologetically merged into my lane, causing me to quickly swerve into the parking lane (no parking before 9:00am, thankfully) I beeped as her and she had the nerve to FLIP ME OFF!!!! She nearly wipes out my front end and then gives me the salute?? Oh, hell no.
A block or two later, she cut off a truck who not only laid on the horn, he got right up to her bumper (I'm talking a hair's width between them) and mouthed (I read his lips) "Get off the road, you Frakkin' Stunt. "(or something that started with an F and another word that rhymed with stunt.)