What's that smell? Not my house? okay, zzzzzzzz

I love the waking up on the sofa after a passing out the night before. I especially love waking up and smelling smoke. I believe it went something like this: (yawn, stretch) "Oh, I can't believe it's 5:35 in the morning. I should get ready and go to work earl--HOLY CRAP! I smell smoke!" Then running around my admittedly not-that-large apartment three times to assure myself that my hovel was not on fire. I also ran downstairs to see if the neighbors were out because perhaps another part of the building was on fire. Then, the news came on with a "Breaking News" bulletin to tell me that this place was on fire. I went to my bedroom to see what I could see and decided that my bed looked lonely and wouldn't I be more comfortable watching the smoke from under the covers? Two hours later, I finally got in the shower. And I was late. REALLY late for work.

And the boss called my cell while I was trying to exit the 101 to the 110, which will only mean anything to Angelinos. Trust me, it was tricky trying to tell her which hotel* she's staying in for the conference today while shifting (I drive stick) and merging into six lanes of traffic and keeping an eye on the Tahoe in front of me with a hair-trigger brake pedal. My new ring tone (the opening instrumental from the Shout Out Louds "Tonight I Have To Leave It") is pretty awesome so I let the phone ring too long and the boss was a little annoyed.



*Funny story: I booked the boss at two different hotels because (a) I booked the first one back in November and didn't save the confirmation in my folders like I normally do, so I forgot ; and (b) I may be on the crack. So she's on the phone saying "I'm staying at the Wyndham." and I'm saying, "No, you're staying at the Hilton," while thinking "crack baby." Guess who's really the crack baby?

Where my people at?

Hey Folks! A good Monday to you all. I hope the weather is treating you right in your neck of the woods because it's pretty hot and dare I say it, yes, sticky, here in beautiful downtown Los Angeles. How's the weather where you live? Why not tell me?

Every Monday, I get a report from Site Meter that tells me who has visited and all that good stuff. I have a modest number of hits per week, and most are from folks searching for something entirely different. But that doesn't mean we can't be friends. You who found me through "ron corning shirtless," tell me why you want to see that? Is he hot shirtless? And you, who won't "suffer fools lightly," I won't either. Tell me your story. And hey, all you discerning music fans who found me by googling "Airborne Toxic Event Carson Daly," tell me how it was. I feel asleep like a fool. I missed my Daren. What brought you to ATE? I'm curious. Leave a comment.

That's right, I'm calling y'all out, especially those of you who check back on a regular basis. I'm talking to you Cream Ridge, New Jersey; Kailua, Hawaii; Halifax, Nova Scotia; Aliso Viejo, Cali; and more recent visitors from Chisago City, MN; Phoenix, AZ; Inglewood, CA; and Englewood, NJ. (True story, I once drove a friend to Englewood, NJ, and somehow ended up in the express only lane. I then had to drive up on the low median, say a prayer and then drive diagonally across five lanes of traffic to make the exit. Without a scratch, my friends, because I'm awesome.) Oh, and let's not forget my posse from Virginia (I get at least one visitor--and one week SIX--from Virginia each week). And hey, U of I visitor who hates WikiHow--My nephew goes there! Small world, huh? You can see his handsome mug back in March posts. Sweden, Germany, Korea, Kuwait--I'm not forgetting you. Washington, DC? How 'bout it.

Don't be afraid to just say,"hi." I'm a nice person. (Personal friends and family should refrain from refuting that statement and should also say "Hi" because it's right neighborly.)

Sugar Magnolia blossoms blooming...

The magnolia tree outside my bedroom window has three giant flowers and countless pods ready to burst open any day now. The first blossoms on the magnolia tree always make me happy and sad at the same time. Happy because, well, just look how beautiful they are!And sad because the flowers don't last very long in the hot California sun. In a few days, the beautiful while petals will be brown and dried and all over the front lawn.

I am not sad for long, though. There will be pretty flowers all summer to make my mornings worthwhile. But the first ones, they are always special.

Your basic weekend mix-n-match

I know how it is. You're sitting there, stirring your morning coffee and thinking, "Hmmm, I wonder what's going on with Laurie Ann's bean?" Well, wonder no more. The bean is growing up just fine. In fact, Jack (that's his name) has taken over the blinds and is making a move on the ceiling tiles. And then, as you grab your keys and head out the door, you think, "I wonder if Laurie Ann ever found the third rock for her Zen Garden?" Why no, I didn't. However, I found a suitable replacement.That's a black jelly bean in the back left corner. Could you tell? And if it's gets melted and sticky, I have a whole dish full of licorice-flavored Jelly Bellies (which I don't eat) to replace it.

Go ahead, say it. "Laurie Ann, you're so clever."

Raverly project queue not long enough?

Do you take you laptop to your local coffee shop? Are you tired of Nosy McSlacker reading over your shoulder? Or on the plane next to Halitosis Mouthbreather? You should knit a Laptop Compubody Sock.* Sure you'll look ridiculous but your words are like your children and should be protected from lurkers.
Bonus: If you're a man, you could leave an opening toward the front area and no one has to know what your hands are doing. Just be sure to pull your face out in time (or not, your choice).


*Thanks to SuperforestNYC for the link. Also, I kind of want to make one just for kicks.

Wanna see a cute boy?

Stay up late tonight and watch "Last Call with Carson Daly." The musical guest tonight is the Airborne Toxic Event. Now, while all of the band members are quite attractive, I'm particularly fond of the drummer. Maybe it's his winning smile or his rock n roll chops. Or maybe it's because he lived with me for almost a year and sang me pretty songs.

If you can't stay up, just watch this video. Pay attention to the center panel.

[edit] NOOOOOOOOO! I freakin' fell asleep at about 1:20!!! Then I woke up at 2:10 in time for the always-scintillating "Poker After Dark" (which still sounds like porn to me). How could I have fallen asleep during the exact time that Daren would be on??? I suck!! Sorry, Angelfish. We'll always have the box office. Also, they generally post video of musical guests on the Carson/NBC website. But still--boo, hiss.

I'm an idiot

And apparently, I'm weak as a kitten. I stopped to put gas in my car on my way to the dinner with a friend. This particular pump had an extra sturdy nozzle guard (or whatever that rubber accordion thing is ) and I could not get the nozzle far enough in to pump the gas. The back flow kept shutting off the pump. I tried to shove it in farther and it seemed to work until I heard "gurgle gurgle" and jump back just in time to avoid a gush of gasoline spilling down the side of my car. I have never done this in all the years I've been pumping gas (since before I could drive because Mom didn't like to pump).

I cussed like a sailor* because that stuff is liquid gold and who knows how much of the $20 worth of gas ended up on the ground or on my car. Fortunately, I have paper towels in the truck and was able to wipe it up. Unfortunately, I smelled like gas and so did the interior of my car; I must have gotten some on my shoes after all. I was queasy by the time I got to Woodland Hills.



*I don't want any hate mail from sailors. I suppose I could have said "trucker" but I don't really know truckers. I know sailors. My Dad was a sailor once and lo, the vocabulary I gained while he re-wired our house. Although my brother was also a sailor and he's always toned down the swearing.
Hmmm, I guess I just cussed like me.

Salad of Awesomeness

I love having real food in the house.

Last day of tomfoolery

The boss returns from her two-week vacation on Monday so tomorrow is the last day for coming in late, wearing office-inappropriate shoes, walking barefoot through the halls, reading blogs all day, playing the music game on ilike, doing as little work as possible and still getting some work done. Of course, I now have to scramble to finish all the work tomorrow, but eh...

If one more person...

...comes up and says, "I need_______." I'm going to scream.

I'm having a great day, it's sunny, I have no shoes on my feet and these people are killing my chill.


[5:38pm]
Through the power of telepathy, I managed to keep folks out of my office and I was actually productive today. It was the bare feet, I'm sure. Or perhaps the Super Mario cupcake I had for lunch (damn finance office and their snacks a-plenty).

More Klassy stories from the Ladies Room

Pee Shy, you know, the employee from the law firm across the hall who runs water while she's doing her business, was in the ladies room when Amber, my co-worker, entered. We've recently shamed Pee Shy into only turning on one faucet, which is still ridiculous and wasteful, but I consider it an accomplishment. So, the water was running, Amber was minding her own business when she heard a phone ring. Pee Shy answered her phone--yes, while she's in a PUBLIC restroom--and said to the caller, "Why you callin' me? I told you I was going to take a sh*t." Oh yes, she actually said that. Amber does not lie.

Despite Amber's giggling (who wouldn't?) Pee Shy, who from now on will be called Poo Shy, proceeded to discuss confidential Law Firm business in a PUBLIC restroom while there is obviously another person within earshot. Then klassy with a K said to her caller, "Hold on," and proceeded to, um, shall we say, REALLY get down to the business at hand--while she's on the phone, people!! Where were these women raised? Seriously!!

Amber finished up quickly and made a hasty exit. I am still shaking my head.

Here's to my BFF (and I really mean that)

Today is Joann M. Wallie's birthday. Joann is truly my BFF, emphasis on the last F. How long have we known each other? Well, I can't remember ever not knowing Joann. There are stories about her mom finding out she was pregnant on the day I was born, or round about then. There are stories about us meeting when Jo was fresh from the hospital (I am 5 months older). But the earliest photo documentation of our friendship is in August 19** when we were both 3. I'd include the photo but I made it into a magnet and gave it to her at her bridal shower. Imagine the cutest red-haired girl ever (Jo) and the most precious brunette rocking a bucket hat (me), dirty faces and bare feet. We were adorable children. Heck, we're still pretty hot.

We did everything together (well, almost...we attended separate schools). We twirled baton together, cheered for ESYA together, pretended to be Betty and Veronica (from the Archies) together (and let me tell you, Jo plays a mean frisbee tamborine), got drunk together, got stalked by crazy men and Burnley Workshop employees together, took our driving tests together, and lived through some crazy years, both good and bad, together.

Joann is pretty much the perfect friend. She never judged me, always called me on the stupid stuff, supported me when my parents divorced, stood up for me when people were mean, put up with my lack of punctuality, always shared no matter what, allowed me to be her only son's godmother despite my flaky ways, and didn't make it hard on me when I moved 3,000 miles away. She always understood me even when I didn't, and I love her dearly.

On the night before her wedding, Joann and I sat in her childhood bedroom drinking wine coolers and crying. Crying because it was the end of an era, because this meant growing up, because "we can't walk to each others house anymore." (that last one made us laugh and then cry some more)
As if marriage or distance could keep us apart--never--we are forever inextricably linked. Why just this week we went shopping together (online, via email, it was fun).

Happy Birthday my beautiful friend. I love you.

What's missing?

The wreaths are gone!

Either my neighbor reads my blog or he has checked out Google Maps Street View for himself and was embarrassed. They may have been gone for days, or even weeks, and I never noticed. I just happened to look back at the house today as I was getting into my car and--WOW--they're gone! They were definitely there in February because I had a friend over who made a comment and I said I would festoon them with hearts for Valentine's Day. I wonder if his wife finally shamed him into taking them down. Now if she could do the same for the take-out menus stuck in the screen door. (I know, baby steps)

Fun with Google Maps

Have you noticed the Street View feature of Google maps lately? It's incredibly useful when researching new apartments. It's good to see the neighborhood is crappy before wasting your time driving over there. Out of curiosity, I checked my own neighborhood. Jamie was fortunately not on the street at the time of photography (which is not up-to-the-minute as one might expect) but look at my house.Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my neighbor STILL has those Christmas wreaths on his front window. Still. Since Christmas 2006.

Go ahead and check out your house. (some areas not included).

The Roy is damn funny; (It runs in the family)

Yet another reason to love my nephew
I was Gmail chatting with Roy yesterday and mentioned that I am avoiding Frau. (I've lost the actual transcript somehow or I'd just paste it) Roy said something to the effect of "You can outlast her. She's pretty old." To which I replied, "She'll outlive us all because she's a cantankerous old bitch."
Then Roy said the greatest line ever: "Yeah, even Death is faking the shits to avoid her."
On its own, it's a great line, but it brought to mind a visual of Death avoiding Frau. I kept picturing Death (you know, bony guy, black robe, sickle) ducking down an alley when he sees Frau approaching, hiding behind a dumpster, kicking at the stray cats so they don't give him away. So Roy replied:
Hiding behind the curtainducking behind a newspapertop of his hood and sickle poking up over the heads of high school students in line at the In-n-OutWhy is this the funniest thing in the world to me? Because Roy has only been to Hollywood twice and still made a spot-on In-n-Out reference. And because I can totally picture it.

and the bean grows on
OMG, look at my bean. The leaves are bigger than my hand. WOW! Here are some photos for size reference. I realize my arm in the photo doesn't help unless you know me and have seen the length of my arm, so I measured the bean and it's currently 13" tall.








In other news
I got a mani/pedi today and my legs feel like silk. Seriously. Come feel my legs. They massage the lotion in, then wrap your legs in hot moist towels leaving them so silky smooth I just wanted to walk up to every man I saw and say, "Come on, wouldn't you want this snuggling up against you tonight?" The gal doing my pedicure kept giggling at my Harold tattoo. I sure she, like most folks, thought he was holding his penis. (It's a CRAYON) That's okay; I still chuckle at my manicurists name--Phuc. Fortunately, he let's me call him Peter (which, truth be told, still makes me giggle because I'm 12).

Have a Great Sunday. I'll be doing laundry, trying to get my brake light fixed, my car smog checked, knitting, but NOT seeing a show at the Troubadour, sadly.

Unmired and inspired

The fortunate thing about being a Sagittarius is that we don't tend to wallow in our self-pity for very long. Of course I'm speaking in general; you may know a Sag who does. It's not me.

So, I'm alright today. I overslept but rather than skip the shower or toss the hair up to disguise it's uncleanliness, I took my time. I listened to a few of my favorite songs before getting out of bed. That's the key--before getting out of bed. Have your music handy because once you're up, it's over. Then I showered, washed my hair, made it look acceptable, put make up on, ironed my clothes (gasp), stopped to put gas in the car, listened to more favorite music on the way in, and basically eased into my day. It has made all the difference. Although, I still haven't called Frau back. Avoidance, thy name is Laurie Ann.

I received my package from a knitting swap and it was chock full of inspiration. The softest yarn, needles, stitch markers, a necklace, patterns, chocolate and Twizzlers--not Red Vines. Ah, Twizzlers, food of the gods. And a big bag, too, not the wimpy single serve. My swap partner is awesome. (I'll post more on that later)

So there you have it. I'm on a sugar high and I actually want to knit. Problems solved. (if only)
But hey, why waste my time and yours with silly issues. Instead, please visit The Roy * for his rant on March. It is partially responsible for my good mood today.

*The Roy is my nephew, for those just visiting. I heart him immensely.

I've lost that loving feeling...

...for knitting, for Los Angeles, for my apartment (sure, that's been long gone, but still).

I haven't knit since my ill-fated attempt two Thursdays ago in which I forgot the gauge and couldn't get my square to size. I have to force myself to do something this week because deadlines are looming and I've already missed two. What happened? Damned if I know, but I'd better get some inspiration and fast.

LA, city of my own initials, what have you done to me. I used to be so in love with you. My first apartment (okay, technically my third apartment but it was the same building and we moved three times until we found the apartment we liked) was two levels and the top floor balcony had the best view of downtown and the Hollywood sign. I never got tired of seeing that sign. It meant so much to me. It meant freedom. I mean no offense to my friends and family back home, but I never quite fit there and knew I'd be leaving eventually; I just stayed so long out of loyalty. Even after I moved to a different apartment, I always found myself turning toward the hills to catch a glimpse of my sign on my way down Sunset Blvd. My current office window has an awesome, albeit long distance, view of the Hollywood sign as well as the Capitol Records building. My desk purposely faces that direction. I hardly notice the sign most days.
I don't know what has happened to make me love LA less these days, but I do. I'm getting antsy again. I need a change. But...

I really need out of this apartment. I cannot--CANNOT--deal with Frau Piss-me-off any longer. I got a call yesterday to tell me that I owe her for the extra large water bill due to my leaky tub faucet. [okay, it was kind of my fault, but...] Water is included as a part of my lease, and while I'm open to paying a fine of sorts for my unchecked leak, she indicated that the bill was 3X larger and "you're going to be responsible for it." Um, hells no, not the entire bill! I am tired of her combative attitude every time she calls and her insulting lectures, as if I'm a child. (She also said, "I came by and your check wasn't in the box and it's the first of the month." It's the first all day, lady, so I can drop it off after work and still not be late.) I hate confrontations for the most part and I know she's going to make this difficult. I will ask to see copies of the water bill so I can see the increase and I'm sure to get an argument from her. It's going to be ugly and I don't feel like fighting. I have too many other things on my mind to fight with a cranky old bitch.
Which then begs the question: Should I look for another apartment in LA, possibly with a short term lease, or stay in the mouth of hell while trying to figure out what I want to do and where I want to be?

Meanwhile, it's 10:30, I haven't knit a thing, I need to figure out what I'm wearing tomorrow, I haven't eaten dinner, and I haven't returned Frau's call. If I speak with her today, I will cry.

Because I still need a new car if I'm going to move further from work.