Slacker

I have been quite a slacker on the blog of late. No bueno. The problem is I go to work. And then sometimes I continue with more work after work. And the times when I don’t continue with more work after work I really don’t feel like even looking at my computer, let alone turning it on in an effort to say something blog-worthy.

Working 9-5 everyday, doing the same thing everyday, it just doesn’t really lend itself to the randomness that used to inspire some great blogs. There are only so many stories you can tell about post-it notes and company meetings.

Can you friggin’ believe it is October already? This is not good. Where the hell did this year go? I lost a few months at the beginning of the year while I was traveling around in a motor home pimping the book. Ever since then I’ve been a bit surprised at how quickly the year is passing. Surprised and not so happy.

I’m going to be 30 in January. I’m not looking forward to it. And yet there it is, waiting for me at the turn of the new year. I think for me turning 30 is going to be harder than any of the other major birthdays. 30 is the end of your twenties and therefore the end of it being cute to not really have any idea what you want to be when you grow up. 30 year olds have life plans and 401k’s and mortgages. That doesn’t sound like very much fun. And yet here I am.

I hope to be out of the country on my 30th birthday, I think that would be the only good way to ring in a new decade. Last year when we were in Guatemala one of the guys with us turned 30. I remember thinking a cheesy party or gift could never be as cool as being out in the world exploring with the clock struck 3-0. It’s a good precedent to set, I think.

Who the hell knows what I’m rambling on about. Basically it’s October, I’m getting old and post-it notes are uninspiring.

I know. Turns out I don’t have to wait until age 30 to be boring...

Blog Forecast: Not so good

Uh, remember how I haven’t been blogging much? Cause I had so little time? I have terrible news. It’s Premiere Week on my TV. This does not bode well for the blogging. What little free time I have must be devoted to my television now, for the free days of summer are gone. I don’t know why I don’t make more of a note of it, but jesus do I have a lot more time during the summer. Tonight alone I taped like 4 hours of TV. That’s a part-time job. Throw in the occasional Oprah and I may have to reevaluate this whole employment thing. I mean, my DVR can only hold so much.

Tonight Dancing with the Stars premiered. Good god do I love that show. It’s just ridiculously cheesy and over the top, but I can’t get enough of it. Kelly Taylor for 90210 is on it!!!! I actually thought about voting for her, that’s how much I loved her when I was a teenager. She was a slut with a heart of gold! Tonight they had the women compete, tomorrow the guys will compete. You really have to love guys, cause they were doing a promo for tomorrow’s episode and they had a package edited together of all the guys basically talking a big game. They were all saying how badass they are and how they are there to compete and to bring home the top prize and pretty much just being boys. But you have just got to love that the big prize is a trophy shaped like a disco ball. I mean really. Does it get any better than that? I think no.

And can I also point out that the chick that danced the best on the show tonight was probably the heaviest set girl on the show? And she still looked awesome. I kept thinking of little Britney Spears and her bikini-ed ass making a mess of herself on MTV a few weeks back. Everyone said she was fat and looked horrible. Britney Spears is not fat, she’s probably tipping the scales at like 138. What she is is a complete friggin’ moron who thinks that going on national television in a bikini is a fantastic idea. The girl on the show tonight easily has 20 or 30 pounds on Britney but she actually had the sense to work with a costume designer and put on something that covered and tucked in the right places. Then she went out and danced her ass off, another thing Britney wasn’t quite in the mood for. Dancing’s hard y’all.

And speaking of overweight, an overweight young woman wrote to me the other day to tell me that she had decided to train for a marathon and that her doctor recommended my book. She then said she’d read my book three times and was “inspired” by me. There are a couple things that don’t seem right here. First off: Why are doctors recommending running books that reference Cheetos on a pretty regular basis? Second off: It’s a bit alarming how many people have written to me to say that they are inspired by my book. How bizarre is it that my lazy ass is inspiring American’s to run around in circles? Oh the mind. How it boggles.

If you ask me I think I should get burnt calorie credit for all the work my readers are doing, I mean, I inspired them for god’s sake.

Pass me the remote, Curb Your Enthusiasm’s on, the laughing will work my stomach muscles...

Things

Hello out there. It has once again been a little too long between blogs. My bad. I just don’t have much to blog about these days. I spend my days in corporate America, and while many things entertain me there I don’t think it the best idea to blog about them here. I will tell you that the other day we actually had a meeting about a meeting that we are going to have that will be about a big meeting we are planning. Ahhhh.

There is also another AWESOME story that I can’t tell you about, because it took place at someone’s wedding and I just don’t have the heart to be the possible destroyer of unions. But believe me when I say that it was the best wedding ever. If only because I was so amused by the things going on. That AND I got cake.

One thing that I did find entertaining that I can actually tell you about:

I was walking through the frozen food aisle the other day and a box caught my eye. It had a smiling man on it and for a brief moment I thought maybe it was Wofgang Puck. But no, this guy was a (tiny bit) darker than Wolfgang. Then I did a triple take and saw that the guy was actually Smokey Friggin’ Robinson. On a frozen meal. Unfortunately there were other people in the frozen food aisle and I just couldn’t muster the courage to randomly start snapping photos (who knows why I was all of a sudden shy about randomly snapping photos). But I did come home and find Robinson’s website. "The Soul is in the Bowl."

Awesome. And no mention at all of how ironic it is for a man named Smokey to be in the frozen food section.

Nothing else is really going on. I’ve started playing on an indoor soccer team and I’ve also started realizing that soccer is not a sport that you just decide to play after a year or so. I’m pretty sure I may die on the indoor soccer field, as I’m pretty sure breathing is an important part of remaining alive. But you know, we all have to go sometime. At least I’ll go with some kick ass bruises all over my legs. That’s my favorite part of playing soccer, the funky bruises I get that get even funkier as the week goes on. I couldn’t wear a dress to the awesome wedding I went to, because my legs looked like I had been severely beaten. But even if I had been severely beaten I still wouldn’t have had the best story at the wedding...

God, it would have made a great blog...

On Demand

I’ve already thanked the lord for the internet and now I must turn my attention to the television, for there he has blessed us as well. We won’t even touch on the obvious blessings like 4000 channels and HBO and the Foster Farms Chickens, because we don’t have enough time to thank him for all the wonders that within the world of TV.

Instead, let us concentrate on the On Demand feature that some cable carriers have. And again, let’s ignore the beauty that is being able to watch a million cable shows and fantastic movies from our youth whenever the hell we feel like it. Oh no, we don’t have time for the glory that lies there either.

Today we will focus on something a little hidden, something that isn’t seen by a lot of people, yet something that is just as worthy of our praise.

It is called Dating on Demand. And it is awesome.

I was over at my parents house this weekend and I saw an ad for an On Demand Real Estate station that featured local real estate in the area (have you heard? there are a few houses on the market here in California. teensy tiny foreclosure problem going on.) I told my mom I wanted to check it out. (I don’t have these On Demand features at my house because I have satellite (thank the lord in heaven, or I’d never leave my house, ever.))

To which mom answered, “You know they have lots of local stuff, they even have personal ads.”
To which I answered, “Show me. Now.”

This is just amazing. People are posting on cable for dates. And apparently people are looking on cable for dates. It’s all so convenient. And scary.

Here’s Nate. He’s in Sales. Mom thinks perhaps it might be marijauna sales.



This is Bill. He’s Charming. He has a “soft spot for children”. That doesn’t actually sound as charming as it sounds creepy, Bill. Just FYI.


Here’s Doug(yFresh). He’s looking for “love and money”. Aren’t we all Mr. Fresh. My dad came in and told Doug, “You ain’t getting love without having money Doug.” A wise man, he.




Here’s Cecil. He wants someone “skinny and pretty”. Mom doesn’t think I should put this video up. Because maybe Cecil is shy. Often shy people put their videos on cable stations.

My Dog

My dog has issues. Let us discuss them now.

#1 - He REALLY like the taste of poo. This REALLY upsets me. Not only does he like the taste, he likes the smell and is able to hone in on that smell from a good 50 yards away. He’s like one of those drug-sniffing dogs. Except I can only imagine what kind of criminals he’d catch.

#2 - He REALLY likes laying in water. It doesn’t really matter where the water is. He learned of his love of water while laying in a baby pool at a dog park. But now EVERY time I take him to my dog park he doesn’t let a little thing like lack of baby pool get in his way of laying in water. So EVERY time he lays in the mud puddles. A lady asked me the other day, “Are they water dogs?” as she looked at my dog, lounging in up to his ears in a puddle of mud and water. “No, he’s a crazy dog. His breed has nothing to do with it.” The other day, while at yet another dog park my lovely dog made his way over to one of those water fountains that has the human water fountain at the top and the doggie water fountain at the bottom. After the doggie’s drank out of the fountain my genius decided to sit in the fountain. Because, you know, there’s water in there, and water is for sitting in.

The only good part of #2 (maybe the poo one should have been here instead...) is that I have figured out a fantastic way to bathe the dog post-mud dip. Initially I was trying to bath him in the sink like I normally do for his baths. But this was not a good time. Because most of the mud is on his underside and trying to spray that underside usually resulted in my spraying mud up into the air and all over my damn kitchen. And I have to keep the kitchen clean, because sometimes I put take-out boxes on the counter.

So then. Instead of taking him inside for the bath I have decided to keep him outside for a squirt down from the hose. I hold on to his little leash and spray him off. He thinks he is getting shot and I think I’m taking out a lot of poo and mud anger on him with a high-powered sprayer. This makes me much happier than the mud in the kitchen.

#3 - He’s got issues. He’s gotten a lot better about going up to people and not being super afraid of every human being that isn’t me. (Which always cracks me up, because in his little life span, I’m the only human being who has spanked him, yelled at him and sprayed him with a high-powered hose. Yet I’m the only one he trusts. Like I said, issues.) He is mostly okay with people outside, but once they come into our house, he’s not a huge fan. He backs away from them, he barks, he hides. Maybe he thinks that they are going to spank and yell and spray too, who knows.

So I hired a dog-walker, because he didn’t seem to like Doggie Daycare that much (How do I know this? Because I too have issues and watched him on the internet doggie cam.) so I figured I’d just leave him home and have someone come over to walk him once a day. I know, I’m a yuppie. Whatever.

So the dog-walker came over the other day and when I got home there was a note that read: “Please call me.” There were also many a toy thrown throughout the living room. Uh oh. I’d seen this scene before, when I asked the roommate to take the dog out one time when I wasn’t home. I came home to all of Nola’s toys at the bottom of the stairs, an obvious attempt by the roommate to lure the dog towards the front door. From the cussing I heard coming from upstairs I figured that these attempts had not been successful.

I called the dog-walker, she was distraught. “I don’t know what was wrong, I tried for 45 minutes to get him to come to me and all he would do is bark and back away. I’ve never experienced anything like that.” “Well, my dog is unique to say the least.” “Don’t worry, I won’t charge you for today, since I never was able to take him for a walk.” “Uh, yeah, it’s not your fault my dog is insane, go ahead and charge me. At least he got a workout trying to get away from you.”

Tomorrow the dog-walker returns to try again. I’ve put leftover chicken in the fridge to aide her efforts. Of course I should probably just recommend bringing some poo, that ought to get him to come to her right away.

God Bless the Internet

Whoever invented the internets should be sainted. I think that goes without saying. I mean, there’s the e-mail, the Google, the porn, the list goes on and on. But I must say that without the internets I don’t know that I’d be able to work a 9-5 job. (Don’t worry, I’m not looking at porn at work (but do you know that a guy got fired for looking at porn at the last place I worked? Isn’t that funny? And even more funny is the fact that it was his SECOND time being caught looking at porn at work. He’d just gotten a warning the time before. Seriously. What kind of idiot #1 Looks at porn at work and #2 Keeps looking at porn at work when it has been made clear that looking at porn at work is probably not in the best interest of his efforts to remain employed? People have issues.) But I digress.).

I have discovered the most wonderful thing of all: Online radio. Where the hell have I been that I never discovered this before? I do not know. But I am here now and I am here to tell you that one should not reside in a cubicle for hours on end without the aide of internet radio.

God bless internet radio. And god bless Adam Carolla. I’m sure that some of you either don’t know who Adam Carolla is, or think he’s an idiot (The Man Show), but I do not care. He is my savior. The guy has cracked me up since LoveLines and ever since Howard Stern left radio Carolla has been doing a morning radio show. Given the fact that I haven’t seen a lot of mornings since Howard Stern went off the air, I hadn’t listened to Carolla’s show. But now, because I am a functioning member of society I get to listen to all the morning radio I want. Morning radio and Mountain Dew are the only thing that get me to noon without passing out. And Adam Carolla. He helps a lot. The guy is just a “dude”. He likes cars and building things and has a general bad attitude about everything on the planet. He cracks me up. And when spending time in a cubicle, his rants sure do help the time go by.

Then after him there are these three called Frosty, Heidi and Frank. Frosty, Heidi and Frank used to be Jaime, Frosty and Frank and I used to listen to them during my ridiculous commute when I lived in LA. Until one day I turned on the radio and it was just Jaime. And Danny Bonaduce. Jaime, Frosty and Frank had worked together for like 10 years, starting in Denver or something and then moving out to LA together. Then, after all that time Jaime totally stabbed her boys in the back and saved herself. Bitch. I never listened to the show again. Who knows what she is doing now, because Bonaduce is now on Adam Carolla’s show. Followed by Frosty and Frank. Jaime? Off the air. Karma. It’s a bitch too.

So then. As you can see, the internets provide me with both entertainment and life lessons throughout the day. Can’t ask for much more than that.

I’m Confused

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Wrong

I got this postcard in the mail today.



Uh. Does this seem really, really wrong to anyone else?

"Well, yeah, cancer sucks and all that, but it's not really a big enough reason to go get myself checked. Whatever, I'll do it sometime, when I- Oh! The possibility of $100 towards Cosmetic Services?!!! Sign me up!!!"

The New Girl

Some of my best friends are people I met at work. I guess it’s natural, because you spend so much time at work. You are going to either end up loving or hating the people surrounding you (On the same note, some of my least favorite people are ones I met at work). One of the things I missed when I worked freelance from my house was the interaction with my co-workers.

But sometimes it takes awhile to go from being The New Girl, to being A Friend.

Today I walked into the bathroom at about noonish. When I walked in I saw my reflection and I saw that on that reflection was a large white spot. On the reflection’s boob.

Apparently I’d leaned into my bagel sometime on my way into the office and had spread cream cheese all over the underside of my boob, and its black top, in the process.

This cream cheese wasn’t visible to me because it was, well, under where I can see. But it was visible to every person I passed and talked to for half the day.

But no one said anything.

The best friends I mentioned earlier? They would have pointed, laughed, made fun of me and told everyone else within earshot to come look. But they wouldn’t have let me walk around looking like a lopsided lactater for half the day.

I miss being Friends.

Pictures

Look at me! Two days in a row with the blogging. Hot damn. I might have made the error of drinking a Pepsi an hour ago and I might now be wide awake, even though it is 10:30 and I just finished work and I should go to bed so I can get up and do another 15 or so hours of pretty-making tomorrow. But no. I had a Pepsi. So you get a blog. It's very exciting.

Some pictures for you:

I took this when I was in LA a couple months ago, and I guess I forgot to post it. It just struck me as funny. "Under New Management. Now Serving Falafel." Those other managers were falafel haters, apparently. And that is why their business failed. These new managers are bringing the falafel and they are ready to make some money.

I saw these in a bookstore this weekend. They are laminated pocket guides of sorts. You buy them, I guess, and then you have a nice little pocket guide for whatever topic you might need a pocket guide for. Such as? Western Civilization (this is a lengthy topic, so it needs TWO pocket guides). Or maybe you were looking for some help with your public speaking? I can think of no better way to learn about public speaking than a laminated pocket guide. I'm sure Martin Luther King carried one of these around right before his Dream speech.

The most alarming has to be Personal Finance. Please. People. Do not make personal finance decisions based on a laminated piece of paper at the local independent bookstore. I mean geez, at least go to a chain store for that kind of information.

My new lovely car has a lovely feature that tells you how many miles you have left until the lovely car runs out of gas. When you push the button and you get nothing but stars? That is not a good thing. That means there are no more numbers, no lower the lovely meter can go. Ru roh.

This is not the first time I've seen the stars. See, another lovely feature of this car is that not only does it burn gas like a fool, but it also has a problem with the gas tank thing. Depending on the gas pump sometimes my gas tank just won't let me put gas in. It does that ANNOYING thing where it clicks the gas pump off, as if it were full. But, uh, not full. Not even $3 in the gas tank yet. Good god.

So here I am trying to hold the gas pump just so, to convince the gas to come out. Of course holding it just so makes the gas come out as if it were mud coming through the nozzle. So I end up having to hold it for minutes and minutes at a time. But guess what? I don't have a functioning hand that is able to hold it for that long without needing some sort of pain medication and/or arm transplant. So I usually end up only putting like 10 bucks in. Which in SUV speak is like 4 feet worth of gas.

So then. I've been seeing a lot of the stars.

Speaking of mud. This is the underside of my puppy. Can you see it? It's not the best shot. But it's a lot of mud. All over his belly. Oh, aren't puppies just a joy?

When he goes with my parents to the dog park by their house there is a little kiddie pool there that he has become quite fond of. Can't get enough of that cool water, promptly plops himself in it right when he arrives at the park. But at the dog park by my house there is no pool. Never one to let a little thing like that slow him down my brilliant K9 found the nearest thing that resembled water and plopped himself down in it. Unfortunately it was a mud puddle.

The funniest part (besides me trying to hold him off of my new leather seats while I drove home) was right before he sat down everyone in the park went, "Uh, ooooh," plop "Ohhhhhhhhhh no." They all got a chuckle out of it. Mostly because they weren't the ones holding a mud-drenched puppy out from their body.

And this is just a little picture of Nola saying hi. Post-mud bath.

Another Week Gone By

Yet another week has gone by since I last corresponded. I’m not doing so well on the blogging of late. There are two reason for this. 1) I’m absolutely exhausted and have no energy to come up with blogs before I go to bed and 2) I don’t really have anything blog-worthy to tell you about.

Remember those 10 weeks I went off to travel the US and pimp my book? Well, those weeks weren’t cheap, and lets just say that now is the time when I’m paying the price. So here I am. And there you are. Both of us without any writing on this blog. It is so very sad, all if it.

Even sadder? I am typing this right now because it’s 9:30 and I think I may go to bed soon. What the? Last week I went to bed at 9:30 two nights in a row, because I was so exhausted. To give you a bit of a perspective on this, I don’t think I’ve gone to be at 9:30 since I was like 7 years old. And even then, I was probably feeling under the weather or something. The saddest part of my early bedtime is that it doesn’t really matter, I’m still exhausted the next day.

I went to bed the other night at 9:30pm and got up at 6:30am. That is a nice little 9 hours of sleep. That’s good night’s rest. But noooooo. I was still exhausted the next day. Yet, when I used to go to bed at 5am and get up at 11 or 12 I was fine. No tired. You know how some people are just born with the ability to play golf or run really fast? I think my skill is being nocturnal. It’s a skill that doesn’t come in so handy when you go to bed only an hour after it gets dark. I’m working against destiny here people.

This weekend was another one of doing a whole lot of nothing. I was actually sore last night from laying down too long on the couch. I had to take some Advil because my neck and the back of my head were throbbing from laying in the same position for so very long. I might have had the early stages of bed sores. Which was exactly my goal.

I was supposed to go camping this weekend, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s the yearly trip that my friends have been doing for awhile now. Every year I hate camping, but I enjoy the company. But this year the logic of driving 4 hours each way to sit outdoors with people who live in the same town as me was just not quite apparent. I started out the week with high hopes of getting out of town and relaxing with good friends in a great location. Then, as the week (and I) dragged on the thought of wasting precious non-working hours in a car just started sounding like less and less of an ideal way to spend my time off. I was supposed to drive with a friend and we were both secretly hoping that the other one would flake, so we didn’t have to make the trek. We started an email correspondence around Wednesday about the logic of this camping trip. And by Thursday we had decided there was no logic and we’d be better off just staying home. We did get together on Saturday to hang out, at which point we both looked at each other and said, “God, I’m so happy we didn’t go this weekend.”

I think we are officially old.

You know how to feel really old? Have a 21 year old live with you for a few months. Jesus. This guy that is renting my spare room has more friends and more of a life in this town than I think I ever did. Every time he comes home it’s from some adventure or party or whatnot. He came home the other day, “Look! I have pictures of me sky diving!” Then a week later he comes home in a wife beater tank top, with paint splattered all over him, “We went paint-balling!” Then one night he headed out, looking sharp as hell, “Whereya headed?” “A friend of mine is in town for a sorority convention, so I’m going to go meet up with her and her friends.” “Wow, you gotta like your odds at a sorority convention.” “Sly smile.”

One day he comes out with a pair of shoes, “Do you think these will pass for shoes instead of sneakers? We’re going to some fancy club in San Fran and I can’t wear sneakers.” I looked at the shoes that probably cost more than his monthly rent, “You’re a black man, you know how to dress, no one can tell you what suitable fashion is. Tell the bouncers that.” “True, true.”

I think he will be moving out soon, which is good, it’s exhausting just hearing about his exciting life, I don’t have the energy to keep up with it...