Thursday, March 31, 2011

More on Me

Here is another one of these fun-filled questionnaires for you to ponder, copy, paste, circulate, fondle… whatever works for you.

  • Age or Ages You Would Like To Do Over? 24 or 29. These were both big decision-making years for me. I'd be curious to see what would happen if I had taken a different path—provided, of course, I could change everything back if the path led to something worse.
  • Worst Ages? For what? Clothing? 14 though 17 so far. Actually, that would probably be true regardless of issue. Those ages are just really tough for girls (and perhaps boys, but I wasn't one, so I can't speak to that). But really, nothing says drama like a 15 year old girl.
  • Respect or Money? Tough one. I assume this means in a job and not in a relationship because the money issue might lead me to think that illegal activities are going on. Otherwise, I'd like to say respect, but I have bills that need paying. Though it is shocking that "But my parents respect me" doesn't cover rent. I will say this, though: without respect, the money has to be a lot higher.
  • Ever Quit a Job? What time is it? Yes, I have, but not recently.
  • Ever Been Fired? From a job, no. From a relationship, yes.
  • Best quality? I'm ridiculously loyal even when that loyalty hasn't been earned, or is no longer warranted.
  • Worst quality? I'm really judgmental. Of course, I think being judgmental is a great quality because no one wonders where they stand with me. Ever.
  • Word or Words Used to Describe You? Short. Really short. Breathing.
  • Word or Words Never Used to Describe You? Urban. Hip. Cool. Trend-setting. Fun-loving.
  • Do you blog? LOL um…yes, but not nearly as often as Danielle would like.
  • Geekiest Thing Ever Done? Um… has to be a tie between flying up to Wondercon for The X-Files panel, and lining up for the I Want to Believe Premiere. I am still costume free; however, as I've never dressed up as Scully. Or Mulder, for that matter.
  • Favorite Sexual Position? Anything that allows me to continue to watch TV.
  • Piercings? One hole in each ear that was re-opened after about 5 years of pondering the decision.
  • Tattoos? Nope. There isn't an image that I'd want on me forever. Plus, I hate needles—why do you think it took me 5 years to get my ears re-pierced?
  • Career You Wanted Growing Up? I said doctor, but given my deep love for Nancy Drew, Charlie's Angels, Remington Steele and Scarecrow and Mrs. King, I think I wanted to be a detective (or spy… spy would have been good).
  • Buy or Read Tabloids? Do entertainment blogs count? Otherwise, no. This one is a bit of a battle for me. On the one side—if you do the crime, you do the time. If you don't want to get caught having an affair with your three co-stars, then don't have an affair with them. On the other hand, I reject the idea that anyone's personal issues be made into sport. Now, the celebrities who literally call for that kind of attention, they make me uncomfortable. You can't invite that attention in and then get to be dismayed when they feel like they have a right to you. To paraphrase the brilliant War Games: "The only way to win is to not play the game."
  • Ever Hooked Up With a Celebrity? Given that I still don't have a clear definition of the phrase "hook up" in its current incarnation, I'd have to say no. Unless it means "have a conversation with them about how you wish they would write more" and then, yes.
  • Favorite saying? Currently, it is one coined by Claire: "Everybody dies, Meggie! Everybody dies!" It's to ward off bad decision-making. I'll let you work out the context.
  • Starbucks or Coffee Bean? Ah, now we are getting into the deep philosophical questions. Neither. I don't drink coffee. That's right. I'm the one.

  • Guilty Pleasure TV? Has to be a tie between anything on HGTV (House Hunters, Income Properties, Property Virgins, etc) and Ghost Hunters. I don't feel even remotely guilty about my other television options. Come to think of it, I don't feel all that guilty about the ones listed, either.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011


Women worry about everything. And if we have a moment when we aren't worrying about something specific, we are unsettled and worried about our lack of worry.

Somebody has to do it.

My Ex and I had an ongoing debate about worry. He never saw the point in being worried because he thought it didn't solve anything.


Of course worrying solves something! If I didn't worry about it, the universe (which Pen now refers to as the Taco Supreme) will see its opportunity to screw with me. Worry allows me to hope that in some small way, the Taco Supreme will be thwarted.

Unfortunately, this "must worry about everything" aspect of my personality can sometimes be paralyzing. You should see my "Pros" and "Cons" lists—they go on for miles. While I make decisions every day at work, personal decisions seem to come to me more slowly with every passing year.

How do you know when it's time to make the big changes? In relationships, when it was up to me, my rule was, "If I'm more miserable with someone than I am alone, I'm out." (As an aside, when my Ex asked, "But how do you know" to that theory; I did begin to get just the tiniest bit concerned.) But what if the list of "Pros" and "Cons" are weighted differently?

Is it possible for a constant worrier to leap—and not end up with a broken ass for her troubles?

Monday, March 28, 2011

NSFW: Thoughts for March 28

As I'm sure the case was for most of you, the weekend was far too short. I'm now faced with a Monday morning with the following thoughts racing through my brain:

  1. Why God Why? This is a given. It's 7:00am on a Monday, and I am already in an office surrounded by work and the assorted debris of a life not quite reaching its potential.

  2. How long does it take for toenail polish to wear off on its own? It's pretty self-explanatory. If I were a precise girl, my toenails would always be pristinely polished and buffed to a light sheen (as in glow, not Charlie). But I'm not a precise girl, so I am currently conducting a science experiment in which I refuse to remove the flaking polish and redo them. Ok, perhaps it isn't so much of an experiment, as it is a testament to how lazy I am. Also, who is looking at my feet? Nobody. Ergo, no need to contort myself in order to make "breakfast in bed" re-appear on my feet. Side question—who names nail polish? Can I do this job? I think I could do this job.

  3. My birthday balloon is mocking me. I have a Mylar balloon in my office that was given to me to extol the virtues of my slow decline. There were two smaller, standard balloons with it. Those, much like hope for my love life, died a while ago, but the gigantic one is still proudly erect and swaying over my head. My reaction should be something akin to a warm glow at the lovely gesture meant to celebrate my life. Instead, I think I'm going to have to stab it.

  4. Twatoo-ing. What the hell are you people doing to yourselves? My horror at the concept was only matched by the hilarity that ensued when someone over the weekend tried to explain this to me. I'm a literal person, so when someone said, "inside the vajayjay," I thought they meant inside the body cavity itself. I couldn't stop picturing some dude with a mining helmet and headlight going in with a tattoo needle. And how big is that cavern anyway? And who sees that? Is it a special message to your gynecologist? Thank goodness for T, who discreetly mouthed "labia" at me. Huh. Naturally, Sadie has a friend who has done it, and her tattoo reads "hope" in Chinese characters. Awww! That's sweet, but I think we can all agree that those Chinese characters probably actually say, "Free delivery with an order of more than $10." Also, when someone refers to a "tramp stamp" in the future, I will not be thinking about a lower back tattoo. Please tell me this is not another wave of the future. Because if I have to experience deforestation, anal bleaching, vajazzling and get "Promise Land" tattooed inside the zone (Sadie's twatoo of choice) in order to get a man interested in having sex with me, I'm out. I'm just done. I've already got one foot inside a convent, and I really think I'd rather take the veil than deal with this.

  5. I wonder what kind of spam mail I'll get now that I've had to look up how to spell "twatoo."

P.S. For those wondering, mine would probably read:

  • Keep Out

  • By Invitation Only

  • Coat and Tie Required

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Everything Old Is Me Again

I was enjoying an inner rant this morning, and I remembered this older blog. As many of you are new readers, and possibly haven't wandered back this far, please enjoy this reposting of "Multitasking." And yes, I am playing that Berlin song right now.

Happy weekend!

Friday, March 25, 2011


Any idea if Scott on HGTV's Income Properties is single, straight and living in the lower 48? He's cute, capable and, apparently, honorable (I know this because he looked directly into the camera and said, "I'm not comfortable with that" when someone suggested he do something that isn't entirely legal).

Also, putting new shelving into my closet would be a terrific "I'm so glad to be dating you" gift. I'm just saying.



The world is in desperate need of a Single to Dating Dictionary—and by "world" I mean "me." Clearly, I can't be the one to write it; largely because I don't understand modern dating language (also, most of the euphemisms used on Californication). But let's start simply. If you can help me with these three very basic ideas, I'll be one step closer to success (and let's not dwell on what "success" would actually mean).

  1. Hook Up.
    What does this currently mean? When I was in college, "hook up" for my friends meant kissing and perhaps a little bit more (aka "No, we just hooked up—it was nothing serious"). There was no sex involved (Clinton definition or otherwise). Alas, now it appears to mean something far more naked. At the rate we're going, in another three years "hooked up" will mean "married with three children."
  2. Serious.
    See above for an example. What does this mean in a dating setting? For me, any activity that could hasten my death, create life or increase my taxes equals serious. But I've actually heard someone say, "We're just living together; it's nothing serious." Wha? In that case, which dating/relationship stage does constitute serious? I mean, if I'm discussing Russian literature with a guy, and he says, "I'm married, but it's not serious" should I be fazed?
  3. Later.
    I continue to struggle with this one. Maybe my problem with the word "later" is more of a miscommunication between the sexes. When I hear the word "later" I think that means "later that day." Men appear to mean "any time after this point, but more than likely next week…possibly." Is there a set definition for "later" in the dating world? If not, let's make up one now—and force everyone on the planet to comply in order to get me one step closer to world domination (ahem).

Next week, we'll conquer the word "date". This one is very tricky and apparently should not be used to describe a meeting for a set time period between two people who find each other attractive and have some romantic intent toward one another. Because calling that a "date" is crazy talk.

If we were to actually create this Single to Dating Dictionary, what definitions would you need?


Thursday, March 24, 2011

For LA Readers: Napa/Sonoma All-Star Wines

I highly recommend hitting this event. It's a lot of fun and involves some great wineries. Hit up the link at the bottom to get more details and to buy tickets (at a big discount)!

Sunday, April 17th 2011, 1-4pm
Under the Big Top at Wally’s
Only $39.99 per person!
$50 at the door

A tasting of nearly 200 Napa/Sonoma All-Star Wines!

Baseball season will just be under way, but Wally’s will be prepared to play host to over 70 proven All-Star wineries, each of which will be fielding a pair of their finest offerings. The Wally’s Big Top will be teeming with nearly 200 Napa/Sonoma wines being poured by, in many instances, the winemaker or winery principal. In addition, All-Stars II event special pricing will be extended exclusively to those in attendance. Cheeses and bread from the Wally’s Cheese Box are included in the price of admission, highlighted by Cowgirl Creamery’s Peg Smith’s personally offering samples of her award-winning products. The popular duo of “Let’s Be Frank” and “Eduardo's Border Grill” will be on hand, so the very best hot dogs, burritos and tacos will also be available for purchase. Don’t delay, tell your friends and sign up today!

10 For Thursday

Over the last few days, Twitter has been buzzing with #100factsaboutme entries (the assumed ending being: "that you don't already know"). Though I'm clearly a fascinating creature, I'm not sure any of us is really ready for you to have 100 new pieces of information about moi. I do, however, think that divulging 10 new, and potentially embarrassing, factoids is something we can all survive.

Here are your 10 for Thursday.

  1. I can't stop singing "Loser Like Me" from Glee.

    There is just something so relentlessly upbeat about it. Even my hard-won cynicism is powerless in the face of that much hope. I'm seeking therapy.
  2. I've already cried at the trailer for Fox's Mobbed.
    Before you judge—have you seen it? The guy loves his intended so much, he takes over The Grove, gets hundreds of people together, and they all perform an intricate dance leading to the marriage proposal. I can't get a guy to hold the elevator for me when I'm carrying a month's worth of groceries.
  3. I'm the person the article warns you about (
    It's true. I confess. The first thing I do in the morning, regardless of how early the hour, is check my blackberry's email. I claim that it is because I want to know what the work day has in store for me. This is partially true. Doesn't really explain why I head to Twitter immediately following the email check, but let's pretend it's related.
  4. I love The Broad Stage.
    Not only does The Broad Stage have amazing artists coming in every month, but the facility is gorgeous. Things people don't mention about this place—the bathroom is sumptuous, the parking is at the facility (and free) and the receptions out in the courtyard are completely worth the extra on the ticket price. I'd like to take responsibility for the facility as DM and I attended one of the first fundraisers for the construction, but something tells me that it cost more than $100. You get bonus points if you can tell me exactly how David Duchovny, Jeff Goldblum and Blair Underwood are related to the place.
  5. I'm envious of the person with a concert hall attached to her house.
    No, seriously, I know someone who has a concert hall attached to her home. You'd never know it from the street, but it's there. They don't really advertise. The events are mostly word of mouth, but once you are on the list, it's magic. Right now there is a play reading series, featuring known actors, happening in someone's backyard addition. This is the secret Hollywood I can get behind.
  6. The surest sign I will purchase/use something is if you hear me say incredulously, "Why would I need that?"
    See iPad, iPhone, iPod, Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr. What can I say; I play almost as hard to get with technology as I do with men.
  7. I'm obsessed with 80s mini-series watching.
    Not that long ago, I allowed some friends into my apartment (shocking!) to watch The Thorn Birds. We watched all eight hours in one sitting—that's a lot of cheese, popcorn, cupcakes and wine. And I'm not likely to stop any time soon—after all, East of Eden has arrived.
  8. I'm never spontaneous—until I am.
    I moved to Los Angeles from New York without knowing anyone because of a vacation I took with a friend of mine. I flew to San Francisco for Wondercon one year without making any plans (including plane reservations) to be there.
  9. I can't figure out why women want to look like porn stars.
    Nothing against porn stars—I'm sure they are all fabulous, beautiful people. But there is a particular look, and it tended to be one that non-porn industry professionals tried to avoid. The longer I'm in LA, the more it seems as though that particular industry has informed everything from behavior to body hair. Have the women of Los Angeles decided that they need to duplicate the fantasy in order to connect with the 5.6 straight, single and employed men who shower currently living in this city?
  10. The biggest compliment I can give someone is to tell them that they interest me.
    Despite my self-professed hermit-tude, I come into contact with a lot of people. However, I'm much more likely to be perplexed or vexed than interested. It's just part of my charm.

Those are my 10 for Thursday. Now you play.


Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Quick Question

If a man said to you, "You are all round and soft in a way few women in Los Angeles are" would you feel affronted or flattered? Peevish or preening? Dropped into a never-ending pit of despair followed by six consecutive months of Bar Method, or continued gentle glides around the neighborhood?

I honestly don't know.


Tuesday, March 22, 2011

The Serenade

Dear Serenading Neighbor,

I understand that there are times when the music just takes you, and your soul demands that you sing "Love Will Keep Us Together" at the top of your lungs. Who doesn't love the Captain and his Tennille? There is many a drive to work that has included my stunning renditions of "Muskrat Love."

Was that a snicker? Sir, you are in no position to laugh.

Nina Simone was an amazing singer. I get that you would want to pay homage… for three or four hours…last night… when I was trying to sleep. And again at 3:25am. However, the neighbors screaming at you from below your window did not seem to feel the same degree of music appreciation that I was experiencing. Perhaps you had on headphones and couldn't hear the villagers gathering with their pitchforks? That might also explain the somewhat atonal quality of the vocal stylings.

I'd like to believe that you are preparing a serenade inspired by Lloyd Dobler himself. If that's the case, let me know. I will hold your boom box (not a euphemism).

If not, perhaps you should keep in mind that there is absolutely no sound-proofing in your apartment. And that "feeling good" becomes somewhat less thrilling the later the hour and the greater the number of times you decide to sing it.

I'm not saying that you should stop—sing on, good man; sing on. But perhaps the zeal could come on a little earlier in the evening?

Oh, and if you actually turn out to be John Cusack reminiscing, I am absolutely willing to forgive you (and I have an entire book of duets that could be perfect for us).



Monday, March 21, 2011

Invisibility Cloak

Do you ever have one of those days where you just want to burst into tears for no discernable reason? Yeah, me neither.

(picture me kicking the dirt with my toe, head hanging down)

Ok, that might have happened to me once… on Thursday… when my invisibility cloak came out of retirement.

It was a typical day at work. I'd gone through the standard "why-God-why" mantra when forcing myself out of bed for work. I'd arrived at work thinking something along the lines of, "There has to be more than this." I braced for impact when a particularly abrasive colleague asked for something ASAP—which naturally meant drop everything you are doing to help me because I'm stomping my foot and I said so, rather than a reflection of any actual urgency. I dealt with it with my usual aplomb: completing the request while mentally re-writing my resignation letter to exchange "regretfully" to "gleefully."

It was an ordinary day.

At lunch, I escaped to a little café near work. It was early for normal humans to be eating lunch, so there was only one other customer waiting (she had already ordered). I walked up to the counter. The woman behind the counter was on the phone taking an order, so I waited. She finished the order call and turned away from me to submit the order. I remained at the counter patiently and contemplated my life. She turned back around and picked up her cell phone. She texted. She turned to talk to the other person in the room bagging up a delivery order. She turned back around towards me. She went back to texting. Just as I was about to say something to her, a man walked into the café. She immediately looked up and asked him if she could take his order.

I looked around. Did anyone else notice that I was being totally ignored? No.

No one noticed me at all.

Normally, I pride myself for being undetectable. I like being the "man behind the curtain," so to speak. But to my dismay, I started to feel my nose get red and my eyes well up. And I just turned around and walked out. I never said a word and no one ever acknowledged that I was there.

They never saw me. I didn't count.

It was an ordinary day.

I'm not loud. I'm not brash. I don't take what I want. I'm the consequence girl who works hard and thinks that slow and steady will be enough. I'm polite—even to people I can't stand. And I don't count.

It was an ordinary day.



Thursday, March 17, 2011

Lovely LA Times Surprise

Look what the lovely Los Angeles Times provided the city with this morning.

Click on the image to make it bigger.

Monday, March 07, 2011

White Collar

It has been a while since I've brought you a little touch of Hollywood. Tonight, I attended the "White Collar" panel as part of Paley Fest. I'm a casual viewer, but Pen is slowly turning me into a fan-- and it has made the DVR.

After tonight, I think it's going to make the DVR's consistent line-up! The cast and crew were terrific, and I loved having David E. Kelley moderate. It turned out to be a very entertaining way to welcome me back to LA after another trip to New York (more on that later).

And now... a couple of photos of the panel (alas, I couldn't get a good shot of the entire group, but my side was awfully pretty...)