Le Douche-Bag

One thing I dislike about L.A. (other than the usual) is the confidence and cockiness that complete losers have. And not Napoleon Dynamite losers...those I like...but over privileged soft around the edges losers. You can spot an L.A. native from a mile away, he has an unjustified swagger and complete disregard for personal boundaries.

Last night I was at a party in the canyons...my friend was filming a live performance with his band and I was there to help out and support.
It was getting to the end of the night...a few more songs and this guy sits next to me. He's friends with my friends so I chatted with him as a FRIEND, he was not my type. Next thing I know he has his hand on my knee. I grab his wrist, look him in the eye and say "Absolutely not."
So he backs off a little and he keeps talking so I pull out my Boston Bitch personality, which usually scares them off immediately,( sarcasm is L.A. douchebag kryptonite ladies), in this case, it did not work, he loved it, couldn't stop asking for my phone number. So he is showing me his business card (meh, lame) and so I take it and say "listen, I have your number, if I want to call I'll call, if I don't, I won't". I hate being mean, but I was so not interested.
Didn't get the hint.
I'm doing dishes and he comes up and wraps his arms around me.
I'm sorry, I forgot we were dating, because that's a move a boyfriend does, not a complete stranger at a house party.
Eventually he left, because it was late and because I made it a point to talk to every other person but him, and goddess forbid he actually help clean up, but I was free!
Right, my point about L.A. guys: He looked like this (no it's not him, he was not as cutsie but same shape)

On what planet does that guy find it acceptable to put his hands all over you...while sober or any guy for that matter?? Because in Michigan or Boston THAT guy uses his finely tuned sense of humor to woo women and maybe some killer dance moves or excellent taste in music.
In L.A. he uses annoying persistence and wandering hands, because he's spoiled.
The business card will go to the next hideous and insane woman I meet.
Besides, my type is:

Porcelain Gods

I had M&M's and fruit snacks for lunch.
And then I puked.
At work.
I puked at work.
I was sitting here and my heart was racing, and I'm trying to breathe deep and drink water and after all the cookies and cake and brownies and pie I eat...M&M's send me over the edge...and then I get a weird brain stem headache and I can feel that tingle in your throat where you know it's bad news.
So I go down to the lobby bathroom (the least used and it's a single), take off my sweater, put down a toilet seat cover, and puke.
I handled it like a big girl.
Usually I cry like a baby and fight it.
Again, I puked at work.

Free Return Address Labels?

Does anyone else get letters from charity places and enclosed are "complimentary return address labels" and it encourages you to make a donation?
I friggin LOVE those. Free labels!
I usually don't open those letters but now I know what to expect so it's like mini-Christmas.
Who doesn't love putting a sticker on an envelope instead of writing it all out?
Last year I donated to a Breast Cancer Walk and got on the permanent mailing list and they sent awesome labels with stars, moons, or a cool calligraphy "c".
This year I got some from a random children's charity (I did not give them my address! Thieves!) and they have these have ugly little angels on them. But there is like 50+ of them!
So, of course I'll donate something now that I have put it out there on the Internet that I use the labels, I'd be an a-hole not to, but the best part was the donation form which read;
"Please send in a donation of $10... $6... $15"
I'm going for the $6, since they obviously value that denomination more than $10.
Typos will cost you ladies and gentlemen.

Selfish Tsk Tsk Tsk

Two weeks ago I planned a trip to Petco or a pet store to get our cat Mini a litter box (although she likes doing her business outside, we thought we would save her the trip...not my idea...I like keeping poo outside, on the front lawn, where it belongs) so I decided "I want a pet...a dwarf frog or a fish".
They stay take responsibility in steps:
plant ----> small pet ----> more demanding pet ----> spawns
I researched dwarf frogs
...what? they might get disease? clean out aquarium? net out old food? bloodworms?
Eff. that.
Betta Fish. Cool. Bowl, rocks, fake plant, fish, flake food. Check.
I have 8 plants I care for, 5 at work, 3 at home, I can handle a fish.
Then before the store I started getting anxiety
"holy crap, I have to clean a fish bowl, no way, too much responsibility. What if I get whisked away to a foreign country for a year, who will feed Henrietta?"
Really? Am I that selfish with my time that I can't dump and refill water?
Apparently.
No fish...yet...stay tuned.
But for your viewing pleasure, a picture of the fish I would LIKE to get.

My Life

"'Family Guy' creator Seth MacFarlane proved he's a real ladies' man during a pre-Emmys bash, where he hopped onstage with Maroon 5 singer Adam Levine. Afterwards, women were throwing themselves at him left and right, according to the NY Daily News. While he played it cool, he wound up sneaking off with five beauties at the end of the night. Wonder if ex Eliza Dushku is kicking herself right about now. (Sept. 21)" (AOL)

I was there.
I wasn't one of the women "throwing myself" because I'm not a star chasing hussie,
but I took that picture.
My life sometimes really, really rocks.

Rip Van Winkle

I am a modern day Rip Van Winkle. If it weren't for the fact that I set my alarm on the weekends I would probably sleep 24 hours. And even with the alarm going off every 10 minutes I still manage to hit snooze for 4 hours.
No joke.
Saturday morning I went to bed at two a.m. (story about that night later) and set my alarm for 10 a.m.
10 a.m. comes around...eh...snooze. My sister calls (I never miss one of their calls)
...Zzzz...
she texts "how do you say 'Hello Handsome Boys' in french"
She's invoking my french skills...must...open...one...eye...
I text back "Bonjour beau garcon, beau like bow, garcon like in Beauty and the Beast"
(see? my brain is thoughtful about phonetics while sleeping)
then snooze again...until 2:30 p.m.!
I wake up (only because I feel like I should, not that I want to) and walk into the kitchen
"Goodmorning"
Uncle J. looks at the clock, then at me, "Morning??"
Yeah yeah it's morning on my planet.
Some day I won't set an alarm and we'll see what happens...24 hours, 6 years?
4 hours of snoozing every ten minutes=24 snoozes. I had to wake up and hit a button 24 times and still decided sleeping longer was the best decision.
Catherine Van Winkle.

Guilty Pleasure

I have a secret. I heart Real Housewives of Atlanta. Those are some crazy bitches and I don't miss an episode. Ridiculous.

Evil Glowing Ball of Fire

I played in a horseshoe tournament on Saturday, and by played I mean I pathetically threw a horseshoe toward a stick and then socialized the rest of the time.

Before starting the day I lathered up with SPF 50 from head to toe. I felt all proud that I was so thourough and headed to the beach with confidence that this time I would not come back looking like a lobster.
4p.m. "Wow, my lips hurt"
6p.m. "Holy crap it feels like midget fairies are cutting my lips with tiny knives"
10:30 a.m. -pre IHOP..."Ah! My lips have been replaced with crunchy bubbles"
Gross. Bubble wrap lips. Seriously? So first I get the wisdoms out, then the cavity filled, then the temp crown, then the allergies/cold, then another temp crown, now burnt lips. I will never kiss again!
Today they finally started looking more like lips and less like tissue paper. Everyone is all "oh you can't even tell"...really. Thanks for being nice but umm...i'm looking in a mirror and it is NOT HOT.
Beware the sun...

The Poo Fairy

The poo fairy came to my house this weekend. She graced my lawn with a thick stinky layer of steer manure. How awesome is that? I get to walk out the front door before work every morning and get greeted by a wall of stank. Seriously, a layer of shit was spread all over the lawn and it's nasty. You know, it would've been great if the "winning lottery ticket fairy" or the "gorgeous single straight man with a career and trust fund fairy" came to visit.
But, no. I get the poo fairy.

Queen Tooth

I have a temporary crown on my tooth. I hate it. It's HUGE! And it's longer than my others and it's resin and it feels all weird.

Waaah waaah waaah.
Mutant tooth.
That's what happens boys and girls, when you eat cake and cookies and brownies and ice cream and and the 8 lbs of Halloween candy your Dad and sister send you every year and don't go to the dentist for 10 years...you get a big weird tooth on a slant that feels weird to chew with.
If I can stop sticking my tongue over there and obsessing about it maybe I can be productive today.
Does a crown make that tooth Queen of my mouth? I hope she doesn't start getting all demanding "I don't like Arm & Hammer, use Mentadent...Spinbrush? too cheap to buy a real power toothbrush?....floss is for commonteeth, I want a water pick"

Stairway to Italy

My favorite toy at the gym is the stair-master. I can bring a book and go on that thing for an hour and I love it.
There are 5 stair-masters at my gym and typically I get them to myself but about twice a week someone else will come over to stair-world and it is always the same people.
The people are as follows:
Other Girls-
which are fine because they don't smell and they keep to themselves, and sometimes they smell good which is a relief from the usual smell of sweat and b.o.
Adventure book reading possibly gay guy-
he reads the same books as me and I get really excited but won't talk to him until I know for sure he's gay because he is NOT HOT.
Sweaty guy with nice calves-
He doesn't smell too bad, so we're cool. And he has nice calves.
Tourettes conductor old guy-
This guy, not cool, I was on the end, there were 4 other empty machines, he picks the one next to me and does this weird OCD arm flailing thing every 35.7 seconds...and he's old, but whatever.

THEN...
yesterday, I was all into my book and enjoying the empty stair next to me when along comes "short, too tan, but kinda cute guy" and I think 'okay, no biggie he doesn't seem to smell' and so he gets on the machine and "sniff sniff"...ugh...what the hell...he's burping up meatballs. The last thing I want to smell while 30 minutes into a workout is meatballs...i'll take sweat and b.o. but meatballs was just foul. And then he did it again! I just sort of looked at him like "wtf". He left after about 10 minutes (thank goodness) but to all of you out there who think of eating a big feast before the gym...don't.
The poor girl next to you is going to dry heave every time you burp in her face.
I am banning Meatball from my section of the gym.

Mini

My cat ate Bob last night.
Bob is the spider that lives in my bathroom.
I love that cat.
Guardian Mini: Protector of Humans from Evil 8 legged beasts!

Senses Overload

I have a very acute sense of smell, which can be great when it comes to cookies and roses and puppies...but very bad when it comes to crowded places and homeless people and bodily functions.
So despite the fact that the cold was annoying, it was somewhat nice to go about my daily life without having to smell pollution from fires.
Then Monday came...and I had finally gotten control of the evil allergies (many thanks to Dayquil & Nyquil) and I was walking through a mall...snarfed...cleared my nose...
and bam!
It hit me like a ton of bricks. My sense of smell was in hyperdrive and I could smell every store...lotion...the air...food court...and worst of all: the people.
I went and saw a movie and I could smell the people around me and the seats. They smelled like b.o. and unshoweredness.
Eww.
People are gross.
Next life choice # 1: Turtle. #2: Toucan, #3 Monkey with no sense of smell.
That was my Monday. Oil Change, Mall, Movie, Sniffing people.
How did you spend your labor day?

Drip Drip Drop Ya Don't Stop

A poem:

My allergies have taken over my head.
Claritin 24 hour did NOTHING to help.
I'm so congested I can't feel my face.
A drip of snot just fell from my nostril.
I didn't feel it.
Numb nose.
Take THAT America's Next Top Model.

The End.

WTF?

With the dog-sit commute being roughly 2 hours each way, I get on the road, throw on some music and zone out.

The song ends, I look to the right and...
"Holy crap!"

This is what I see:Let's get a close-up:

"Tailgaters Get The Evil Eye"
Now, i'm a HUGE wuss. I run and leap into my bed & under the covers after turning off the lights in case some mythological monster from the latest Blockbuster that I haven't seen and will never see, grabs my legs from under my bed and pulls me into his fiery realm where he eats out my eyes. Yes, that much of a wuss. So you can imagine what I did when this pulled up to my right.
"Ahhh!H!!!!aHHAHHHH!!!"
Thank goodness we were in stand-still traffic or I might've had a little fender-bender.
Then I realized that it's pretty darn awesome and snapped this photo for your viewing pleasure (you're welcome).
I'm guessing the eye opens when someone gets to close? Maybe squirts something? No clue, nobody dared to try, which is surprising considering the guy was going about 30mph BELOW the speed limit and holding everyone up.
I guess you can drive like a dick when you have a corpse hanging out of your truck bed.

When Your Belly Starts to Quake...

I'm in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and all of the sudden I smell something

...I can't place it

...it's familiar.

..I sniff around the trash

...then the sink

...is it me? No. Hell no.

I turn around and there is Zorro (dog # 2) with a huge grin sitting behind me

I sniff him. Jackpot. What is that? Did he eat garbage and light himself on fire?

No. It DIARRHEA.

Fricking diarrhea. All over his big hairy butt.

I grab some paper towels and start to clean it off like an adult, then I start dry heaving.

The tomato soup and bread I just snacked on, coming up.

I stand over the sink, and I keep dry heaving...Ah!

Think of anything else...rainbow bright...guitar hero...elves. Another heave.

I think "that's it, i'm going to blow chunks in their sink"

I look to the right and see a soap dispenser...I pump it into my hand and shove the soap up my nostrils and breathe deep.

Ok. Under control. I need to get Mc.Poop downstairs and outside before he jumps on the bed.

Mission accomplished.

Wipe, wipe, wipe. 10 more times. Dish soap. Still smells.

I am wiping a DOG'S ASS.

I am DRY HEAVING.

F this. I'm cutting it out. I'm cutting his butt hair.

I NEVER want to be a pet owner, or a mom. Ever.

What did you do tonight? "Oh, played guitar hero, cut diarreah out of a dog's asshole, you?"

I am so allergic to these pups. Like, itchy eyes, runny nose, hives, itching my throat with a toothbrush" allergic.

Did I mention I cut diarrhea out of a DOG'S ASS?

eff my life.

Mediocre Dilly

I got really excited last night because there is a Dairy Queen on the way to the house I'm dog-sitting at. So I pull in, park, take out the $5 bill I have been saving for this momentous occasion and stroll inside.
It went something like this:
"Hallo, welcome to Dairy Queen" (he has a little bit of an Asian-American accent)
"Hi! Thanks! What flavor dips do you have?"
"Chocolate"
"And??"
"Just Chocolate."
"What!?! No Cherry!?! Nooooo!! You're the only DQ in the state and you don't have cherry!?"
"I'm sorry."
"Ahhhh, boo. Okay, thanks anyway" *turn to leave*
"Wait! (they obviously were very bored and needed my dollar fifty seven) We have cherry Dilly Bar! Same thing!"
"Really? It's the same? Ooooo!"
"Yes, same cherry dip"
"Hooray!! That's wonderful news! I'll take it!"
Liar.
Not even close to the thrilling soft serve twist surrounded by a sea of warm cherry flavored sugar dip gloriousness. This was hard low-fat ice cream with a thin cherry shell.
But thank you DQ man, you did the best with what you had and I appreciate it.
It was the same dip, just 98% less of it.
I ate it all the same, and cried.
j.k.
Almost got hit by a car that matched my Dilly Bar though, I think he was jealous.
Dilly rage.
I like saying Dilly, it sounds like something between a dirty word and the name of a cow in Montana.
Dilly.

Sexy is not an adjective for you

me: my mouth is so itchy from the fire

i keep sneezing

Brandon: i've had tons of dry boogers

me: gross.

To Fritter or Not To Fritter

I've come to the realization that we, as people (or maybe just some of us...or maybe just me), put way too much emphasis on our purchases. And while sometimes it's a really good thing to be frugal and conscientious, other times it's just downright stressful. With my student loans, car payment, insurance, rent and cost of living, I am a paycheck-to-paycheck gal. I usually have enough leftover for a nicer meal or two and the rest goes into savings (aka $30 goes into savings). So if there is something I really really want, I have to think about it, rearrange my finances, and squeeze it in. But it takes a whole long thought process. And while this only makes me appreciate each purchase more, it is SO annoying that I have never made a purchase that I did not feel somewhat bad for making. Ever.
The same goes with food. And not financially, but calorically (not a word, but it is now). Story: I went to Starbucks this morning (had a little gift card) and I saw a very sexy apple fritter sitting in the glass case. I have a weak spot for apple fritters. So I stood there for 3 minutes having an internal debate. Apple Fritter...or low-fat berry sunrise muffin. I don't like the berry sunrise muffin...but it's low-fat...so I should be health conscious. Finally, after standing there drooling like a dope and probably making a weird face because my brain was arguing with itself, I thought "Wait...I'm 26, I am thin, I go to the gym...I can eat a friggin apple fritter once this month".
The apple fritter came home with me. We made out in the car. a.k.a I bit his face off. It was love.

Sitting on Dogs...or Dog Sitting

I'm dog sitting for a week up in Santa Clarita.
Wednesday pm-Tuesday a.m.
The commute from there to my work is 46 miles, which in L.A. equates to roughly 1.5-2 hours. L.A. is burning and because of that I wake up to ash covering my car and air that is practically un-breathable.
But...it rocks!
I get to do my laundry with a washer AND dryer...no more waking up @10 to hang clothes that will take all day to dry. There's a huge tv, tons of movies, a Wii, Wii Fit, Guitar Hero, Karaoke, Jacuzzi tub, Massage Chair, and 2 stories of fabulous air conditioned house.
So, other than the long commute (which I get through easily thanks to a certain sister who makes killer mixed cd's), it's like staying in my very own big resort.
And as a bonus, I wake up to two giant fuzzy beasts (Sparky & Zorro).
Me, Sparky & Zorro, and a Guitar Hero Career to rock this weekend.
Look at that fuzzy face with the crazed "give me attention! now! dammit!" eyes.
1, 2, 3...awwwww.

One Hot Piece of Ace

My body wants me to be out of shape and gross and never ever make out with anyone ever again. I'm convinced (and obviously melodramatic). So a week and 1/2 ago I get 4 wisdom teeth out. Nothing says "let's make out" like 4 open holes in the mouth that taste like salt water...yum. So because of the surgery and pain killers...I decided not to operate heavy machinery (aka not go to the gym). I'm thin, super thin, so one would think not going to the gym would be no big deal, BUT, since I could only eat soft things for a week I chose ice cream, pudding, cake, pie. Why? Because I felt I deserved it and because I'm a big pig. So, case in point, I need to get back on that stair master and haul ass because that 2 months of a healthy meal plan and working out like a champ has left me at the same place I started thanks to my lack of self control. So now my mouth is almost healed! Probably another week or so, and I can now go to the gym...so what happens Sunday pm? 6 hours of being violently ill! Yay! Sexy me! Because of the long night of torture, laying on the bathroom floor hanging out with the spiders...I caught a chill...and ta daaa, a cold. A lovely, sexy, make out with me, sniffly, sneezy, look like a zombie cold.

I'm bringing sexy back. Watch out L.A. I'm on FIRE!