A Store Front Reads:

If only it was that easy.

Unlucky Charms

I was ravenously hungry last night around 1 am, and somehow found myself wandering the 7-11 isles for an obscene amount of time. I acknowledged the cashier was staring at me, curious how one decision could be so impossible to make. But you know when you're so hungry, you could eat everything. Or nothing. You'd hate to make a decision, commit to a sandwich, then be disappointed you didn't choose the KitKat. So after I could feel his eyes burning through my back, I surrendered to the urge of Lucky Charms. It's been about a decade since I had them. Upon reviewing the box, while I inhaled, I was taken back by "game" on the back.

A demon posessed dragon lurks upon the leprechaun, ready to consume him.

This may be the unluckiest leprechaun I've ever seen.


In other news: If you happened to catch 30 Rock tonight, I, Like Liz, left my phone in a cab recently. And he also blackmailed me for it. And now is a better time than ever to tell the story.

After an "eventful" Saturday night out of dancing, bongo drums, champagne, we hailed a cab to take us home.

It was late and I only had debit card for payment. He refused to accept it. I know how these Hollywood cabbies work: they don't get as much tip off cards, so they just say they 'don't accept them.'
I tell him that he better accept it or we will not be paying. It was certainly threatening coming from a slurry blonde in a poofy dress.

He yells at us in broken English to just give him five dollars. It was a heated exchange in two different languages, and so I resign and throw five dollars and hurry out in the heels-I-always-regret-wearing-the-next-day.

As soon as opening my front door, I knew it. Knowing the odds of getting it back, I began to mourn the loss of the beloved blackberry. After two days of various text messages in hopes someone will see it, the Russian Cabbie calls @ 6 am. I answer the phone call on Marcus's phone seeing my name and number flashing. My heart leaps while realizing that at any moment my battery could die and it would be gone forever. High stakes. It's surely a miracle the battery has held on for 2 days. I manage to make out he is "far away but for 65$ could make special trip." I say I don't want to spend 65$. He tells me that will be his fare from where he is. I tell him he is a liar, then quickly take it back knowing he has my heart in his sweaty sausage fingers. Twenty minutes later, I give in to said price of 40$.

I must disguise myself as I wouldn't want him to recognize me from the aforementioned event of the drop off. *cringe* I bust a green beret and bulky jacket. I go into my wallet to get what I thought was 40$, I realize I only have 25$. I call him, explaining what I have, and he tells me I am a liar, and he will now make it 70$ for me to get it back. He asks me to go to ATM for the rest. Heart is racing, tears begin to flow like the Nile. It is 7 am, I am emotionally fragile, and broke. So I try to appeal to his money hungry negotiations. I will come to him wherever his next destination is and still give him 25$. Russian Cabbie then admits he's already here, parked outside. No. Are you kidding me? Blood boils at the fact he would demand 70$, while he waits around the corner. Where are my numb chucks?

I tear downstairs looking in each direction: no sign of cab. In the distance appears a short stubby balding man in a corduroy jacket. Dear sweet blackberry is in his grasp. I begin jogging toward him. He sees my desperation, as I gratefully pass all the cash I have to him and thank him through dramatic gasps of breath. And then, something outrageous happened.

Russian Cabbie hugs me. A dad hug. Not creepy old man hug. He soothes me patting my back saying, "is oh-kay, no worry, no worry." I hug back. We share a moment of silence.
I still can't wrap my mind around how Russian Cabbie morphed from blackmail threats to loving father figure in a matter of minutes. Whatever it's worth, thank you Michael from United Cab for my phone, the hug, and the story of redemption. Maybe you do have a soul after all.

Ninjas aren't always rich

Sure, everyone wants to be a ninja. But it takes fierce concentration, cat like reflexes, and most of all: money.

But now, you too, can be a ninja on a budget.

http://www.wikihow.com/Train-to-Be-a-Ninja-With-a-Low-Budget

This is a test, this is only a test

Despite my frustration with my lack of technical skillz, I am trying to upload a video. Of me doing nothing. In my kitchen. This is only a test.

Will you be my Technical Wizard?

I wish I was a technical wizard. I regress to the mental state of mentally handicapped 8 year old boy when dealing with computers. I mean, I get it enough. That meaning that I just figured out how to incorporate pictures on this thing and it was a proud moment.

So I decided that I would be proactive and shoot some shananigans, just for my own experience, and hell, if it looked decent enough to put it on something so I could be like: look-- I can act. I just assumed my computer would hook up to the camera and it would figure it all out. And then I could teach myself new editing software, and do it all myself. I was a production major, not an effing rocket scientist. Turns out I needed firewire hookup and this computer must have been made before the internet and it didn't have one. So I venture to Best Buy, carrying computer like a small baby, and ask the largest man I've seen in some time to help me. After rambling on and dropping words that would dictate I knew what I was talking about, his eyes widend and he said, "Easy child, easy."

No help there. But at least he was kind.

So then to two more stores to get a card reader (which I had learned about via Best Buy boy) and they didn't carry them, or they were fresh out. Not giving up yet, I ask a friend for a computer to borrow, and STILL it will not upload. For real? So now, I have to pirate software I can't afford to buy to put on the other computer just to get this done. Ay.

And so, I sit here somewhat defeated. I wish so badly I was someone who was good with details and wizardry of computers. To feel like I got something useful out of today I have also had my workout clothes on....for several hours. I don't know if I'll even make it to the gym, but the percentage is a great deal higher.

Sorry man, that was painfully boring eh? I assure you I will not write anymore boring things. I am attending an epic (1000$/ticket, yes) party in a few days that will be much more exciting to blog about....just you wait.

And, We're Back.

To the five or so people I had reading my previous blog, (Grandma, that includes you):

I’m Sorry. One evening a few months back, I was feeling annoyed by my clichéd enteries and erased it spitefully. And now I miss it. So here I am: Take Two ala Mickey Rourke.

Hopefully this time I’ll incorporate further insightful narrative to awaken your spirit, and make you feel good about your life and the fact you aren’t on a street corner making balloon animals.

(Although I’d applaud anyone who ever worked the Denver Buskerfest and resided to giving the “art” to the homeless in trade for McDonalds coupons. They do have tasty fries.)

Ugh, why do I bite my nails like this? I swear, every year I have made a pact with myself that THIS will be the year I stop biting my nails. I have gone for weeks, and even months when my will power overrides my desire to knaw. But seemingly, every New Year I look down and realize nothing has really changed. It’s actually quite fascinating: I can examine my nails and decipher my subconscious and state of mind for the previous days. In a good week, they are unnoticeable and well kept. But days of running late, tension, dissatisfaction, they are mangled and a helluva embarrassment to even myself.

I can thank my mother for introducing me to Broadway Nails: For Petite hands.
These have come as a life saver for auditions when I must flash my hands in front of my face, and not relive the Mary Kay audition nightmare of my youth **

They really aren’t designed to last for more than one day, and lets be honest, for $5.99 I have fairly low expectations, but often I’ll keep them, admiring my beautiful hands if only for a day or two. Usually circa day 3, one will pop off. I must make a note to find the nail immediately at all costs, acknowledging that if anyone found it they too would be appalled. This has happened, seriously, at a boyfriend’s house, a football tailgate, a business meeting, carrying menus to a table and setting them down, you name it. I resisted all urges today in Target when I saw them in the beauty isle. It’s not worth it later when they fall off, I decided. And so I moved on to browse more crucial items like candles, frames and children’s clothing. I’m regretting it now, glancing down as I type.
One must sacrifice pride for beauty. And so, I plan on returning to purchase them.
It was a challenging week and my nails have suffered the consequences.

Moving on, I just finished watching the Oscars. They really took it to musical town with this one. I mean, Hugh Jackman, gayer than a day in May, did an entire song and dance to announce each best picture nomination. And then a lap dance for Barbara Walters in the interview to follow. A straight man cannot move his hips like that. Obviously, I was blissfully happy and couldn’t have been more impressed with the musical splendor. Bravo Oscar producers. I will put it out there that if Vanessa Hudgens can perform at the Oscars, I think America could have a black president. Oh, wait.

I also suggest you invest in the Slumdog Millionare soundtrack. It puts me in this elated-overseas- trance frame of mind, where nothing can bring me down and I want to dance around West Hollywood bindi and a bedazzled sarong.

Uh, crap, my right eye is twitching. It only does this when I’m exhausted or have been looking at something intensely for an extended period of time. I have been staring at my computer and working for the past 4 hours, and so my vision is beginning to blur and actually…ya, uh, the twitch is getting worse. Ok time for slumber.

I wish I had a closing contemplative inspiration for the day, but I’ll keep the expectations low for now, as not to disappoint. That, and my internet is down so I can’t google inspirational quotes.


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**Had an audition for a Mary Kay commercial back in the day, and not only did I have to flash my hands in the face deal, but actually had to place my hands on the table in front of the casting director. They were but painful nubs and I was so flustered, that when I went to do my line for camera, I jumped in the air and my lanky arm flew up in the air and I punched myself in the eye.