Eff with my lunch, you eff with YOUR LIFE.

An open letter to the person who took the golf cart for over an hour during lunch:

Dear Golf Cart Hog,

First off, let me start by saying, I don't know who you are. I don't know your status within the Reveille family. You could be one of the managing directors, you could be Liz Murdoch herself. Let me also state, that I don't give a care.

In case you are either an intern, a newbie, or brain-dead, let me refresh your memory of our bungalow situation. Due to cutbacks that were never explained to us, NBC Universal has now limited us to one golf cart for 4 bungalows. I know, its preposterous. We sent out many company wide emails when this new downgrade was implemented, all of them clearly addressing the need to "restrict your golf cart use to reasonable time increments", "only use the golf cart when necessary", "let others know when you are taking the golf cart" and, most importantly "do NOT keep the golf cart for a long amount of time, especially during high volume hours, i.e. lunch time".

Golf Cart Hog, are you too good for multiple memos from Mr. Head of Worldwide Business and Operations himself, the omnipotent and just Lee Rierson? Shame on you. I didn't come into work today with a low grade fever, fuzzy sore throat and cramps to take your golf cart stealing bullshit.

Who is your boss GCH? Hmm? Who are they? Do you have to tolerate their "jokes"? Does their office continuously smell like farts and ketchup? Do they eat apples like they are making out with their sixth grade girlfriend? Do you have to tolerate their incessant talk about how they reached their burn on the stairmaster EVERY morning? I LIVE for my thirteen minutes of lunch, okay? The few sunny minutes of my day spent feeling the cool breeze through my hair as I leave my fake laughter and feigned interest behind, sailing on the golf cart and laughing with my friends. For those few moments, I'm no longer "Jeff Friedman's Office", I'm alive. And hungry. All morning I gaze longingly at the commissary menu, wondering what the "california chicken" is made of; wondering if the "split pea soup" has ham in it.

I can't remember a time I was as excited as I was this morning. The new menu had just been posted. Monday: Beef Mac and Cheese. BEEF MAC AND CHEESE YOU ASSHOLE. And because some selfish bastard commandeered the golf cart for the majority of lunch, I was not able to experience it.

Listen, and listen good GCH: If I find you, I will punch your teeth out.

Hope you enjoyed your lunch, fucker.


Ashley Walker
Office of Jeff Friedman

So Live Your Life, ay ay, ay ay, ay ay

I don't really know how to handle it when people make excuses. I don't mean, "oh, I can't go to your birthday party because I have to water my fish", I mean the big ones. The excuses that affect peoples' lives and attitudes on a daily basis.

I understand what excuses are: the human's natural reflex to fear. We make excuses because we are scared and/or don't want to be uncomfortable. We all make them. Everytime I pass that crazy homeless man on the corner of Alvarado Ave. I make excuses. Everytime I have to get up early in the morning, I make excuses. My question is, why can't we be productive with that fear? When it comes to MY happiness, and MY success in life, I refuse to let fear control my life, and it makes me really frustrated when others around me make excuses as to why they can't be happy or why they can't have the life they always wanted.

Sure, I'm not a fan of my job. Everyone knows that. But I have plans. I've come to the firm belief that nothing in my life at this moment (my current job, my current and potential financial situations) is as sad, depressing and terrible as not reaching my ultimate goals in life. And what's weird, is that while I currently fear I will be broke, lose friends, and ultimately fail at reaching my goals, I simultaneously have a deeper fear that I am losing time, which fuels me to get past the other fears. So I press on and continue to live everyday with hope and positivity, because, honestly, if your job sucks, you have $2 in your pocket, and $14,000 worth of credit card debt, what else can you do but be happy? What other option is there? Hell if I lay down and die, and HELL if I have people pity me.

If you want change in your life, YOU need to make it, and its not going to come easy. You need patience, self control, focus, and fear. You NEED fear to motivate you to make that change; fear of compromise, fear of complacency, and fear of not being who you always thought you'd be. That fear will help you stay patient, controlled, and focused. The fear that haunts me the most is "What if I look back 15 years from now and I'm not happy with my life?" If I get off my lazy, complacent ass and make the strides to get where I want to be and really work towards true happiness and passion, I highly doubt I'm going to look back on my life later and think, "Gee, I really regret being broke for those 6 years" or "I'm never going to get over the fact I have lots of debt". Things start to look less and less threatening when you prioritize.

With all that said, California's employment rate hit 10.2% yesterday, and I'm leaving my job in the beginning of the year. Am I scared? Eh, sure. Am I worried about making ends meet? Definitely. But you know what I'm more afraid of? Being unhappy and missing my chance at loving my life. So, eff you economy. You can't scare me, or hold me back. I have God on my side, and I will FIGHT to the death to get what I want. If that means living in my car, so be it. If that means maxing out all my credit cards, well then, bring it on. We are lucky to be blessed, and even if you think you are "broke", or "not lucky in life", we live in America. You are lucky in life and you certainly are not poor. We all can afford to sacrifice. I honestly, can afford to sacrifice a lot, I just need to change my lifestyle. Again, while it would be hard, nothing is harder than the reality that I'm not where I want to be. I am willing to sacrifice if that means being happier in the long run. Now, I may be bold and a bit out of my mind, but I am not dumb. I'm not going to up and leave Reveille without a plan. I will have thing(s) lined up, but when I say I'm out of there at the start of 2010, I need to be out of there before February ends. So, I guess I'll be BUSTING my ass to get out of there. No excuses!!

Mr. Carter

There is a man. Correction: he is more than a man; a Legend some might say. His name is Dwayne Carter Jr., aka Mr. Carter, aka Weezy, aka Lil Wayne. The Greatest Rapper alive.

A brave group of documentarians has made a two hour biopic about his life. They followed him around for 6 months and filmed everything. At the beginning of the process, they had Lil Wayne's blessing, but once it was all said and done and they showed him a screening of the first cut, he was not pleased and withdrew his support. That's how real that shit gets.

My bestie JD downloaded this masterpiece from iTunes and we are screening it tomorrow night at his house while enjoying some sizzurp. Well, not real sizzurp, because none of us have a prescription for codine. We are going to make raps and beats and listen to Lil Wayne until our ears bleed. We call this epic fest THA CARTER WEEKEND.

Sizzurp recipe for those who aren't from the streets:
2 liter of A&W root beer
1 small bottle liquid codine
1 small bottle robitussin

That mess will kill you. Apparently. I obviously do not take part in drugs, or mixing drugs for that matter, but to get the full effect of living the life of Lil Wayne, I'm going to probably drink some champagne. And pour some out for my lost homies. And take a swig of Robitussin because I'm feeling a bit of a sore throat and cough coming on anyway.

We have been talking, thinking, breathing Lil Wayne literally nonstop since we learned of this documentary. We already knew wholeheartedly Lil Wayne is the best rapper of our generation, and then to learn that there was a controversial film of his insane life out there for the world's watching, we automatically went into Weezy worship mode. My daily stream of consciousness for the last five days has been Lil Wayne lyrics, quotes from the first ten minutes of the documentary that we found leaked on youtube, and new freestyle lines that come to mind because of the constant Carter inspiration. Needless to say, its been the best five days of our lives, and tomorrow night is going to be the culmination of all things Lil Wayne and we could not be more excited. It will be like the Christmas morning of hip hop.

There will be pictures taken, and rap battles fought. Stay tuned. Here is a convo between me and JD, just a smudge of our pages and pages of dialogue regarding Lil Wayne. I found this one particularly amusing, following the best tweet I've ever made:

TWEET: ash412: tha carter weekend starts tomorrow. can we survive it? as weezy says, "matter of fact its gon kill me b*tch".

bubblesavd3 (6:21:16 PM): i just tweeted the most thug tweet of my life. it even shocked myself.
johnnybravo3dx (6:21:30 PM): i saw
johnnybravo3dx (6:21:34 PM): i almost threw up in excitement
bubblesavd3 (6:22:10 PM): i'm just reading it over and over like a heartfelt greeting card.
johnnybravo3dx (6:24:35 PM): i am so proud of you
bubblesavd3 (6:26:06 PM): i may or may not be writing a blog post right now completely dedicated to the carter weekend.
johnnybravo3dx (6:26:49 PM): haha
johnnybravo3dx (6:27:10 PM): since we're being real right now
johnnybravo3dx (6:27:12 PM): can I tell you deep down how badly i want to call someone a "bitch ass nigga" and mean it

I Heart Ellen

If you know me at all, you know that I LOVE Ellen DeGeneres. I have loved her show from the beginning, and for the last 2 seasons (since I've discovered the wonderful world of the DVR) I haven't missed one single episode. She is everything I want to be in a person, and she is a tremendous and awesome influence on her audience, the entertainment industry, and the world.

Ellen has been having a busy TV season so far. Her issue of O Magazine comes out in 2 days, and she was just on Oprah's show to speak about the issue, her life, and how her and Oprah are now real life friends. :) I had the privilege of watching the interview via youtube today at work, and have a few observations.

1) Ellen and Portia have a beautiful relationship, and they fit each other so well. You can just tell by their body language and the way the speak to and about each other that their relationship is healthy and really really inspiring.

2) Oprah is a freaking force. I have never seen an episode of Oprah in my life. I watch some bits of interviews and I hear stories, but good Lord. The opening of the episode, Oprah walks out onto the stage and the first thing she does is open her arms out to the crowd in a "the hills are alive with the sound of music" style. The audience (middle aged women) go BONKERS. They are clapping in the air, jumping up and down, there is some serious energy like they are at a Tony Robbins convention. Its incredible.

3) She then goes on to conduct the interview in the most captivating way. She is just talking about random, kind of mundane things, but she brings out the most beautiful answers and says all the right things you can't help but think, "She is soooo right."

Go and watch the interview if you have the chance. Search Ellen on Oprah 9/9/09.

Update (Numero Dos)

Life in the apartment saga has gotten a little better in the past week.

My roommate finally paid up, and our deposit checks were cut and sent out by our landlord.

Gina's parents came to visit this past weekend. Gina's Italian father had a very rude run-in with our landlord at the property when he was walking to our door. Our landlord ran up to him yelling "What are you doing here? Why are you on this property?" To that, he was able to answer something along the lines of, "Visiting my daughter. And why isn't anything done in their house EVER?" He proceeded to sternly question him about why our requests are never answered, and made sure our landlord didn't think he could take advantage of us girls because we were young, and he was going to make sure things got done. Right then and there our landlord came into our place and checked out everything we had been asking him to. While he didn't fix it, at least he was intimidated enough to act like he was going to get it done.

Our thermostat now works, and they installed ALL our fixtures (outside and inside). :) Thanks Mr. Siemplenski!!!

Update

I figured I should update you on the happenings of the last week or so with my new living situation.

Newsflash: My landlord still sucks.
We sent him a list of things that need to get done in our place three weeks ago when we moved in, we have followed up twice, and finally I sent him a stern email to get them done asap (among some other terse choice words). It finally decided to rain in So Cal this past week (we have a "rainy season" which is from the first of October to the middle of November, then we don't see rain again for the whole year), so from Tuesday to late Wednesday night it was a steady, healthy rain. Perfect for the earth, horrible for my shoddy apartment. We don't have weather stripping on our front door. We have been asking for it since we moved in. Weather stripping is a necessity for any dwelling for many obvious reasons.
Our reasons include:
1) Blocking out the noise from our annoying Asian neighbors who have a child who screams bloody murder literally all hours of the day.
2) Blocking out the desert draft that comes across LA when the sun goes down. Once our thermostat starts working (yes folks, that's on our list to our landlord too, but has he fixed it? Nah) our energy efficiency will be terrible if we don't block out that draft.
3) Bugs. Big ones. Enough said.
4) It was pouring for two days straight. We don't have eaves or any kind of overhang over our door; its very open to the elements. And when I say "open to the elements" I mean that water was puddling and spewing around, and under our front door onto our new, real, hardwood floors.

Great.

I pay almost $900 in rent a month. I think I deserve what I ask for. Not even what I ask for, but what a functioning, proper, modern, and stylish apartment that's worth $900 needs. Even trailers have weather stripping. Even the cheapest Motel 8 has some sort of central air, and a housekeeping staff. I deserve to move into a spotless, unstuffy apartment, and I sure as hell deserve to get all of these requested things within a month of moving in without a smidgen of a hassle. He never did clean the house. We finally got fed up and did it ourselves. The blatant lack of cleaning was the last straw for me, so all these other things that are not getting done are only cycloning my rage into a Twister (starring Jodie Foster) style wrath.

He finally came yesterday and installed weather stripping because that was the thing I specifically bitched him out about in the email. Everything else on our list of about 6 things remains untouched. I'm guessing I'll probably have to send him a separate phone call/email for each. We'll see.

I have symmetry issues. I want EVERYTHING to be perfect, clean angles, yet I cannot for the life of me hang a shelf or towel bar straight. I decided I have too many projects that involve things being leveled properly, so I need to hire a handyman. I have this amazing plan of walking into Lowe's, going to the Customer Service counter and getting the assistance of this nice older man with while hair who's been a handyman for years. He would get in his 2008 red Ford pickup equiped with all of his tools, and come to my house to put up my curtains, and hang my shelves and large wall mirror. I'd offer him lemonade, he'd talk about his grandkids in college, and I'd pay Lowe's a reasonable hourly rate for his services. But, I don't live in Palm Coast anymore. I'm probably either going to ask for assistance from Lowe's and pay out the butt for them to come to my place and spend too long doing my projects. Or, I'm going to have to resort to getting some sketch handyman guy off of craigslist who will later come back and rob my house with his cousins since he will then know where I live. Looking forward to it.

I've been involved in this terrible drama between me and my old roommates. One of them has terrible fiscal responsibility (for the sake of this story let's call her the FIO, Fiscally Irresponsible One) and bounced MANY a check during her stay with us which was a huge pain in the ass. She is too prideful to tell us about her financial issues, so we would never know our utility accounts were in trouble until the next bill came and we had bounced check fees. We'd then gently have to confront her to pay for not only her part of the bill, but the fees that were tacked on. I'm sure my credit score just jumps for joy when the gas bill, that's in my name, has an overdraft/hold fee multiple times.

I understand. We have all been there. Those days of growing up where you throw your credit and finances into disarray because you don't know any better. But you'd think after the first, or 16th, bounced check, or after all the creditors calling and sending you letter after letter, you'd learn your lesson. Apparently not. As my beautiful roomie Gina would say, "You are almost 25. That's halfway to 50. Get your shit together."

Our last month of living together rolls around and we are working hard to finish out the last of our bills and get a walk through scheduled with our landlord so we can get our security deposit back. Me and my roommate find out from our landlord a week before we are supposed to move out that the FIO's rent check bounced for the last month's rent. She now owes $850 in overdue rent and fees. Our landlord keeps getting excuses from her. Our landlord tells us that if FIO doesn't get the money to her, in cash or money order, in two weeks, it will be taken out of our security deposit, aka, the $291 each we were to get back would then be dwindled to $25 each. Oh. Hell. No. Me and my roommate are furious. While we are not surprised, we are pissed that FIO wouldn't warn us that she is in this deep, and now, its come to the end of the line and she may end up using our hard earned security deposit portions to cover her ass. We confront her. She says she'll "take care of it". A week and a half goes by. She still hasn't. Me and my roommate are freaking out. While we hope she's a better person than that, FIO could easily just let the security deposit cover her debts and never speak to us again, leaving us no choice but to take her to small claims court. Or, she'd let the deposit cover her and then we'd have IOU's from her. Oh, did I mention FIO already owed my other roommate almost $150 from the many times my roommate has "fronted" (as she likes to call it) her for other bills she couldn't afford at the time? Hell if we're getting an IOU from her. We KNOW she's not good for it. And its OUR money. We have an intervention the night before the money's due. She NEEDS to find it. She needs to put her pride aside and start asking people for loans. FIO tells us she "hopes it can happen and she'll do her best". Me and my roommate leave the meeting more scared than ever. The next day we are on FIO's ass ALLL DAY LONG. We are checking in with her and our landlord simultaneously. We want to know every move they make so we know when this transaction will go down, that is, if it does go down. We realize the horrible truth that that day was Colombus Day. Banks are closed. We beg our landlord to move the deadline to the next day. She obliges. (She is the nicest. I can't believe she was so forgiving and understanding. God bless her please.) The next day we don't hear from FIO until I text her at 1:30. She answers that she's on her way to our landlord right then to put the money order in our landlord's hand. (Why we didn't hear about it, we don't know, but at least it was happening.) She texts us the transaction was complete and that our landlord would cut our checks that day. The landlord calls us to verify. Crisis solved, although not without tons of stress, a few borderline anxiety attacks, angry outbursts, and hostile texts/emails.

On another note, Gina texts me two days ago to tell me she's been released from work early. She has a fever. Yesterday she goes to the doctor. I meet her at home last night and she mentions to me the doctor thinks it may be the swine flu.

Never a dull moment.

Who Wants My Job??

This past weekend was a great one. Had a really successful 201 class, got to go to lunch with my west coast bestie in beautiful weather, shopped the one and only Ikea, got my cable and internet installed, got most of my house put together, had a long convo with my east coast bestie, and relaxed a whole bunch. Most of all, I got really excited to move on from my job at Reveille. The fear of leaving is finally over, and now its just excitement to get on with my life. I have a plan, and I'm not worried at all about executing it.

I came to the realization this past week that even though my boss may have a timeline for me, my timeline for myself will always be more important. He offered to talk with the head of our company about giving me a raise. Which, is terrific. I'm glad he thinks I'm a great worker and deserve to be compensated for ALL the extra shit I do. He mentioned that he'll talk to him first and then I can pull up the rear and solidify the whole thing. He also said he isn't sure 1) If I'll even be granted the raise or 2) If I am, when it will take effect: right away, or in January. That was two weeks ago. To this day, even though I am ready and he KNOWS I'm ready, he still has yet to talk to Lee. He keeps mentioning that he has to, and doesn't. He also mentioned that he's not going to push for it to start right away. I'm beginning to think this offer for a raise is more for his gain and not so much for me. I mean, that's how he operates anyway, so why would this be any different? He's trying to keep me here. He's playing the game.

And you know what? I'm okay with it. Because, in January, I'm outta here. Whether this raise starts now, never, or in January, my timeline that I have set for myself is more important than sticking around to see if I ever get this 30% raise. If it happens in the near future, great. A few extra bucks before I leave. If it doesn't, no skin off my teeth. I'm not going to put what I really want to do on hold while I see if I can make $17 an hour. I'm not emotionally invested enough, and this is DEFINITELY not what I want to do. It doesn't make me happy, and frankly, I hate it and feel like I'm wasting my life.

I also recently realized that all the connections I've made here, the people I have come to know, are still going to be here when I leave. I can still call them up and ask to meet with them, give them my casting documents, etc. I don't have to work here to stay in touch with these people. They have come to be my friends, and I know they will take care of me no matter whether I'm sitting at this desk, or enjoying my life.

I'm excited for what 2010 is going to bring, and I'm glad that I'm not living in fear. I'm honestly optimistic and full of anticipation. I've been ready since the day I moved here (and before) to do what I really am meant to do, I've just been so scared. Now is the time, and I feel like its right.

It's Been a Bad Week, Nothing New For October

Its been a rough one. The world knows how to file me down to the lowest bloody cuticle of annoyance, self loathing, jealousy, and remorse. I know that sounds a bit harsh, but its been once of those weeks.

October has always been a really weird month for me. I don't know if its because of the moon and sun aligning a certain way at this time of year, but October always seems to be the month I go bat shit in one way or another. I move, or change my mind about BIG things, or some other life altering change in lifestyle, all around this time of the year. Its beginning to not be a happy time for me, when it should be. I am beginning to fear my own self when October rolls around. And this past year was no different.

My LA anniversary is approaching and I should be looking back on all the things I've accomplished in this past year. For some reason this week, all I can reflect on is all my wasted time, failures, and regrets. I just keep thinking of what I was doing this time last year and how I miss it. I can't see how my life has gotten any more exciting. It seems like I started out great, then slowlyyyy got into this boring, weird normalcy. Blah-ville. I can't determine if I'm happy or not. I wish I could rewind and play this year over again and do SO many things differently. Maybe this was my big year of learning. Maybe I'm supposed to have a love/hate relationship with this past year. I can never have a do-over, and that bothers me.

I need to vow to myself that 2010 is going to be the year for me. I'm going to heal all the wounds that late 2008-2009 left behind. Most of all, I need to start a trend of making October a good month. How? No idea. But it needs to happen because I can't keep acting out in extreme ways. And I can't live in this fog anymore.

The best revenge is success. And that's all I have to say for October.

Moving SUCKS.

I knew that moving was not going to be an enjoyable experience, as much as I wanted it to be, its just a fact of life: moving sucks. The actual process of moving is annoying, strenuous, time consuming...I could go on and on. My process though, was in its own class of terribleness. Bear with me, this is going to be a long one.

It all started on a sunny afternoon at the beginning of September. I was at work (of course) perusing craigslist for apartment listings. Gina and I had decided to be roommates a while ago, and vowed that we would start searching early. Throughout August we tried to haggle our way to a lower rent at Park La Brea, to no avail. We were scouring craigslist for cute apartment options, but every place we called said they needed someone to move in right away. Our move in date wasn't until the end of September. Finally September rolled around, and on this particular day, I found a listing for a brand new 2 bed/2 bath, hardwood floors throughout, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, dishwater, underground parking, central a/c. A HUGE find for something in our price range. We made an appointment with the Property Manager, Justin, for that weekend.

That Saturday morning, we went to the new place to do a walk through. Justin was a grungy, pothead type who, while "on a hiatus" from acting, took this job as Property Manager for some extra cash and the free rent. He showed us a few of the units. We loved them. They were beautiful. The complex itself was still under heavy construction. The garage was full of random construction materials, the laundry room was dirty and no where close to being usable; barely anything was in working order besides the unit itself. He told us of all the plans for the complex. How if we chose the bottom floor we'd get a private patio space outside of our sliding door, and all these other cute odds and ends. We were some of the first people to come look at the place, so we could have our pick of the units. Justin told us that utilities weren't included, but with the two of us, we figured it wouldn't be too much a month. We were three weeks away from the end of our current leases, so we decided to put in an application. Justin also said that he would try to get us a week to move in before the lease began. This was the best deal we had found in West Hollywood; a terrific neighborhood, permit-free street parking for our guests, and we each had equal size rooms with our own bathrooms. Close to the Grove and Larchmont Village. Not to mention the appliances and apartment itself were beautiful, and with some minor cleaning, it would be a very classy place to live for a pair of 20-somethings making $30k a year. Three weeks was plenty of time to get the rest of the complex in clean, working order right? He told us right then and there, as we filled out the application, that he would run the credit checks tomorrow and tell us if we qualified, then we could get the process started and sign a lease later in the week. Whaa? Wait. My buyer remorse started to kick in. The place was pretty ideal though. Is this how fast this process is supposed to happen? I agreed to let the credit check happen, and crossed my fingers that this was the best we could find. Even after that week, and after the lease was signed, I continued to check craigslist to see if I could find anything better. I couldn't. I started to feel a bit better about being rushed into signing my life away.

Justin called us the day after we saw the place to tell us we had been approved. We can sign the lease and put down the deposit. I couldn't get paid until Friday, but he was once again rushing us, telling us that the money NEEDED to be in by Tuesday because he had a lot of people who wanted to see the place, threatening that it wouldn't be there by Friday. He also wouldn't let us only pay 1 month's rent as the deposit, we HAD to pay 1 1/2, and as soon as possible. That meant we would have to run to the bank sometime during our busy day and get a bank check, and for me, I'd have to borrow $1200 from Mark to get that bank check. Great. Buyer's remorse creeping up once again. We obliged, but we both work late and couldn't get all the way across town to sign the lease and drop off the deposit until 8:30 that night. Could he meet us then? Nope, it was "too late" for him. Well, could you meet us halfway? Nope. We had to take more time out of our day and leave early from work to meet this kid for this apartment I was still wasn't 100% sure I wanted. He told us he'd meet us at the new place. (What grinds my gears is that to this day, there are still three units available. "Will be gone by the end of the week" my ass.)

We get to the street of the new apartment at 8pm. He is standing outside his beat up car waiting for us. He tells us that he "forgot that the unit doesn't have electricity yet, but this should only take us 5 minutes", so we'll just sign it here under this street lamp in the middle of the street on the top of my shit ass car. Reeeeal professional. And this isn't going to take 5 minutes, because I'm going to read every single line of this shady lease. He keeps stressing to us that he needs to be somewhere by 8:45. I don't give a shit. I need to read this, calm down and be accommodating for once. At the top it said that the landlord pays for water.
Me-"Wait, water is included?"
Justin-"Oh yeah."
Me-"I thought we had to pay for utilities. But not water?"
Justin-"If it says he pays for water, I guess he does. Sweet."
Fucking stoner. He also continued to tell us that the landlord wouldn't give us a week before to move in, but he'd give us three days. Right then and there I wrote it in my planner. September 28th. Move in. Albeit a Monday, but if that's the best we could get, fine.
I took a while to read through each part of the lease, and let Gina know that it was alright to sign. We gave him the deposits. All in the moonlight of Elmwood Ave. He then told us we had one more thing to sign. A waiver. The units were originally built as condos, and then the market went sour, so the landlord decided to put them on the market as apartments for lease.
Me-"Oh. So we need to sign something that says we aren't responsible for homeowner's fees or dues?"
Justin-"Uh. Yep. Right."
He is good for nothing.
Me-"Cool. Where is it?"
Justin-"I don't have it yet. I meet with him tomorrow and will get it then. And after I meet with him and he looks over the lease you signed, I'll fax you a copy."
Hmm. Okay, well at least he knows we need a copy. Too bad I can't have one tonight, unless he has some sort of copier in his piece of shit vehicle. We'd have to come all the way back to this side of town tomorrow night to sign one, single piece of paper.
Justin-"I only need one of you to sign it, so only one of you needs to come."
Yeah freakin right. Like I'm going to go to your sketch apartment at 8:45 at night by myself. Thanks but no thanks bud. I'll bring a freakin posse.

I text him the next day to see where the fax was of the lease. He said "I won't give it to you until you sign the waiver, that way all the paperwork will be together." UGH. Fine. Gina and I go that night to his shoddy apartment at the border of Koreatown to sign this paper. He gives us a copy of the signed lease. I read the waiver paper. It is NOT a waiver of the homeowner fees. Its a waiver of our rights. If the landlord wants to all of the sudden make our unit into a condo, while he needs to get it approved by the city, he has every right to kick us out without any relocation help, etc. Uhhh. I don't know how I feel about this. Justin says its "standard". I decide that there is always a way out of a contract. It states that he needs to give us 30 days. Fine. I'll sign it. Buyer's remorse. We get a copy of that also.

The next week I call Justin to see if we can come and measure.
Me-"Can we come Sunday at noon to measure the place?"
Justin-"No, I won't be around."
Me-"Oh. Okay, what about Saturday morning?"
Justin-"Nah, I don't have to show the property that morning so I won't be there."
What? Then effing come and unlock the door for us. Thanks for being accommodating. Fine. I'll try the next weekend. The same thing happens. We can't make it the times he will be there. Why he can't just come for a few minutes and let us measure is beyond me. This happens three weekends in a row.

Gina calls to introduce herself to our landlord the week before we're supposed to move in. She wants to move in the weekend before because it would be easier. She can't move during the week, she has to work, and doesn't have as lenient as a boss as I have. He tells her no. If she wants to pay $200 extra, she can move in early. She was going to pay it. I told her it was too much money and completely stupid. I was getting a U-Haul on Monday and would come and get her stuff for her while she was at work and we'd split the cost. She was very grateful. He was hesitant to give us three days, but he said that he was "willing to work with us" and finally granted us permission. We would move in on Monday.

Finally, this past weekend, two days before we are scheduled to move in, our schedules align. We could come measure. We show up Saturday morning and meet the landlord, Mark, face to face. He is actually really nice and has a cool African accent ala Dave Matthews. He mentions how we are scheduled to move in Monday. He puts our numbers in his cell phone and is really friendly. Justin lets us into the unit. Its still filthy. It still doesn't have fixtures. Nothing has changed since we saw it three weeks ago. I talk to the landlord quickly as we leave.
Me-"Nice to meet you! Should I call you tomorrow about getting the keys and such?" (I had other questions I wanted to ask too.)
Mark-"Call whenever!...Actually the office is closed tomorrow."
Me-"Okay, then I'll call you early Monday."
Mark-"Great! We'll get it figured out."
I should've called 45 minutes from then. I'm an idiot.

Monday morning I call the office at 9am sharp. I need to get the key situation figured out before I leave work to get the U-Haul. I'm also worried, based on Saturday, that the place hasn't been cleaned up. His receptionist says that he's not in yet, but she'll give him the message. The receptionist calls me back at 10:30. Mark isn't available the whole day. WHAT? I tell her he knows we are moving in today, we need the keys. She is really sweet and tells me I can come get the master key so I can move in my stuff. I ask her if she knows if the place has been cleaned yet. She has no idea.

I leave work at 1:30, meet Mark (my Mark) at the U-Haul place, he goes back to my place to load some of the trailer and do some laundry. I head to Koreatown to get the key. Its the sketchest part of mid-town. The office doubles as a leasing office, and a woodworking/cabinetry supply and showroom. There is a crazy homeless woman sitting near the steps yelling at herself. There are three Mexican kids under the age of 10 playing under a dirty dirty stairwell with no guardians in sight. Thank God its 3 in the afternoon and broad daylight. The overweight receptionist gives me the keys and tells me to return them "whenever". Uh. Alright.

The apartment is on the way home, so I decide I'm going to stop by and check to see if it has been prepped for move in. The whole day I have this huge knot in my stomach and a terrible feeling its going to look just as it looked on Saturday morning. Please God let it be move in ready.

I open the door and my worst thoughts are realized. Its exactly the same as it has been since the first second we laid eyes on it. The only difference is that Gina got the electricity turned on. How am I supposed to move things into a dirty apartment? I'm beyond infuriated. I'm stuck at a crossroads because technically, Mark is doing us a favor by letting us move in early, but he also knew we were coming today and should have had it ready, or at least should have been available to talk to. I'm so upset. I don't know what to do. I guess I could just swiffer one room and put everything in there? I only have this U-Haul for 24 hours. I need to get this done today. I call Justin. He is upset too, which makes me feel a little better, but he doesn't do anything about it. He suggests I call Mark the next day and bitch him out, and he'll call him too. That's all he offers. He is useless. There are also a few things wrong with the place that I want to address with Mark, but if I move in my stuff, will the nicks and dents now potentially be my fault even though they were there before I moved the stuff in?

Mark (my Mark), Gina and I spend until 11pm moving in our stuff. I started with just piling it in my room, but then we ran out of room and had to let it spill into Gina's room and the living room. I don't know how they're going to clean around it, but they'll need to figure it out. Gina had to stay there last night, and I guess she just didn't shower. I still have yet to hear from the landlord or Justin regarding the situation. I told Gina to call him because I will chew his ass out (which might be what he needs) but I haven't gotten any response from anyone.

This is so frustrating. Why can't stuff just work out? Moving is stressful enough as it is, then add all of this rediculousness and it becomes suicidal. All I want is a clean apartment that I can put my shit. Is that too much to ask? Apparently.

I'll keep you all updated. Please pray for Gina and I.

Best Craigslist Ad of the Day

I just found this ad on the crazy LA Craigslist. Thank goodness I know some Spanish, or I would've passed right over this hilarious gem. I will put in the original Spanish (just in case you want to comment because some of my Spanish may be wrong) and then the translation:

Mujer bella? pon tus pies en mi cara (Sherman Oaks)

Tienes pies bonitos y suaves? Se calientan y sudan adentro de tus zapatos? Ponlos en mi cara! Dejame olerlos y probarlos... Mill dolares por semana. Busco un arreglo regular. Tienes que ser linda, 18-50 anos ded edad, y vive en el valle de san fernando. Manda foto y tu numero de contacto. Estoy muy serio y busco una mujer linda con pies deliciosos....

Translation:
Are you a pretty woman? Put your feet in my face (Sherman Oaks)
Do you have pretty and smooth feet? Are they hot and and sweat in your shoes? Put them in my face! Leave the odor and try this...a thousand dollars a week. I am looking for natural. You have to be cute, 18-50 years of age, and live in the San Fernando Valley. I must get a photo and your contact number. I am very serious and am looking for a cute lady with delicious feet.

Rap Battle: Corporate Style

JD and I's epic rap battle yesterday, and its origins: Check our flow:

AW:
Yo kids,
Good news!
#1: Its almost Friday.
#2: 5170's fax is working again! Sooo fax that shiz up.

Hearts and love,
A Dubs

JD: Wow, thuggin it out

AW: i don't know what you're talking about. that's just how i talk. you're not the only one with the dream of a lucrative hip hop career.

JD: Little girl, you aint the only one that got it
But I will drown you in the ball pit
At Chucky Cheese for profit-
So don't try to rhyme, just stop it

AW: Uh..uh..give me a beat..

I may be white and get fitted at the Gap,
but that don't mean I ain't fitted to rap.
Stop judgin my flow and get educated,
this "little girl" as you call me
will soon be elevated,
to high class status, baller hall of fame,
you'll still be gettin todd coffee
while they're screamin my name.

JD: Yo, yo yo.

You think you bad? You think you hot? Well are you ready or not?
To play the game, with man, who talk you to walk?
And I'm not playing, I'm just saying, that you're mostly just talk
I'll stay forever, but your name will wash 'way like Chalk

And all this fame that you speak of, is all in your head
Turn on your TV and you'll see me, while you cryin in bed
You might be famous to you friends, but to the world you'll be dead
Cuz I'm star child and you're the one they keep in the shed

Ohhhhhhhhhh

AW: Check your grammar,
spelling and syntax
you call yourself a rapper?
Check yourself real fast:
"who talk you to walk?",
and comma displacement?
Proofread yo shiz
before you get all brazen.
Cuz you'll be dazin'
While I'll be grazin'
On all the praisin'
That this caucasian
Will be raisin'.
So stop your jealousy,
Don't cry or pout,
I'll take you to a fancy dinner
when my platinum album comes out.

JD:I don't read my shit back, it comes straight out my head
The essence of these lyrics should be heard and not read
So pardon my sloppy prose, you care to much, it shows
I'd sweat the small stuff also, if I knew my rap blows

Now I keep girls awake, like a can of Mountain Dew
But, sit back, relax, I'll show you how I do
And I'll speak real slow so I won't lose you
and I'll fill up your up dish and get you back to the zoo

You animal, you come at me like you don't know who I am
How many times can you hear about me and not know I'm the man
Cuz I be Solo like Han, and a geek, still sleek
The folks at home love me like my name Shark Week

Now how's that for a Discovery, girl
Take me to your leader, girl
Crash landed on your bitchass world
From the Lord, I am god sent
with a word YOU can not represent: talent




Umm, please. Clearly, I'm more hood.

Houston We Have A Problem

Oprah calls her "THE Voice". Many call her "THE Diva".
Whitney Houston. She's back, and still crazy.

I caught some of her comeback interview on Oprah the other night (don't ask why or how: when you live in my apartment, you only get to watch BET, Oprah, Black America, or trashy reality TV) and I'm sad to say, she's still messed up. I guess a long life in the spotlight will do that to you.

I truly believe Oprah was trying to ask all the right questions to put Whitney in the best light possible. I don't blame you, O. You tried. And we all have high hopes for Whitney, but she is still a hot psychological mess.

Oprah opened the floor for Whit to talk about how being with Bobby ruined her career and life, and how he abused her, made her into this "bad girl", and how they'd do drugs together for nights on end. Whitney described one instance where her and Bobby sat on the couch in a drugged stupor for days, not even saying one word to each other because they were so high. She didn't seem embarrassed or remorseful, and defended Bobby til the end. She also went into uncomfortable detail, randomly may I add, about how they couldn't keep themselves off each other if you know what I mean. Inapprops and awkward. Whitney didn't miss a beat when Oprah asked her what her and Bobby's "drug of choice" was either. She situated herself in a horse-stance on her seat and kind of got this bright look in her eye, her speech elevated, as she gleefully explained in detail to Ms. O how to lace a joint with premium rock cocaine. Yeahhh. Hm. Poor Oprah. She kept saying things along the lines of "Interesting...but did you ever think this was a bad situation for you?" Or, "Yes...but did you ever wonder why you weren't happy?" etc. Trying to prompt her to finally see that the life she was living was desecrating to her and her family. Whitney told a story of after an alleged domestic abuse incident where the police were called, her mother came to her house in a storm and told her she was hauling her off to rehab. Her mom told her she didn't want her ruining her "gift" (her voice) and the lives of her children. Once again, she didn't seem to be phased by the relationship situation. She brushed off the incident and focused on her mom being upset about her career. Newsflash Houston: Don't think she was upset that your career was failing.

There were redeeming times in the interview where Whitney spoke of her faith and how God pulled her out from the deepest, darkest parts of her life, and how she was happier in the beginning days of her career when she was "singing for God". But, what bothered me, is that she defended Bobby, his actions, and how he treated her, up and down continuously. Its like she is clean (kinda, there were times when I was wondering) but she still hasn't grasped the fact that they had a terrible, termultuous relationship that harmed her psychological wellbeing, her career, and her children. She was basically refusing to admit her relationship with him was the worst thing that ever happened to her. I'm sure that's a hard thing to admit, but its just so sad and embarrassing when you can't be honest about such a serious situation. There's a part of me that doesn't want her to come back until she has her range back, and is mentally normal.

Email Fight!

I've been having the most awesome email "fights" with my work friends this whole week. Here is a transcription of the best one so far between me and my good friend Josh. Of course these aren't real fights. We just get bored and decide to kill time by being sacastically aggressive with each other via company email. Sometimes, I get so engrossed, I forget I'm at work. Which is the point I believe.



Ashley Walker: Hey guys, The fax in 5170 is on the fritz. You can still pdf, copy, and print to the xerox, but the fax function isn't working (sending or receiving) for some reason. If need be, please direct people to the SI xerox, and Diana is on the situation as we speak. When you fax to the SI xerox, be sure to go over there and pick it up asap; I'd hate for our papers to clutter up their groove over there. I'll let you know when its fixed.
Thanks,
A Dubs

Josh Levin: whyd you break the fax?

AW: your mom broke the fax. i just didn't want to embarrass your family.

JL: WOW. so on. it is SO on.

AW: i ain't scurred. bring it.

JL: i will use a systematic approach in dealing with spreading the rumor that your mom broke the fax machine. i will start small, maybe dropping hints that she was here visiting, and holding a bunch of papers, etc. etc. slowly word will travel, and quickly the "truth" will be known

AW: too late. i already told everyone, in the same systematic approach, that YOUR mom in fact broke the fax. i just looped you out. BOOM. people are talking about your mom behind your back. and how she ruined our fax capabilities.

JL: your mom broke the copier and i wont even get into how. BOOM.

AW: good luck convincing everyone. by the way, story's changed: i just called your mom and convinced her that YOU did it. now you're grounded.

JL: i already was grounded. BOOM

AW: this is the best email fight we've EVER. HAD.

JL: Hey other email fights, I'm a let you finish, but THIS email fight is the BEST OF ALL TIME!



My fav is the shout out to Kanye's audacity at the end.

Next post: JD and I's freestyle rap battle via email that is currently going down.

Winning it BIG

Subway has a promotion going on based on the Scrabble board game. Maybe this has been going on for years, who knows, but my eyes have just recently been opened to it thanks to my friend JD who is actively and fervently trying to win the $100,000 prize. You could win big money or big prizes if you collect letters to spell out certain words. While I know most of these types of promotions are gimmicks that yield odds much like state lotteries (1 in millions), I am a sucker for a fun game that involves food. I always convince myself that if I eat enough, I will win, because honestly, someone's eventually going to win. Why not me? I'm a bit upset and embarrassed that I missed the bandwagon on this healthy Scrabble game. Why didn't someone inform me that there was a lower calorie alternative when I was trying to win McDonald's Monopoly?

My sister Lauren and I were roommates for a year in college. One afternoon, we drove to McDonalds to get...honestly, God knows what. Lauren is obsessed with McDonalds, and would go about once a month to get a Big Mac or something. While sipping on her Coke, she realized that the Monopoly game was going on for a limited time. We could win up to a million dollars. We needed some cash. We loved McDonalds. We were totally in.

From that day forward for a month and a half, we went to McDonalds EVERY DAY. We were both so terrified we would get fat, but we wanted to win so bad. We each had the Monopoly board taped to our dorm room walls and would come home and put the stickers on. We'd go through the drive through and get the things that would make us feel the least bad about ourselves that would also have the game pieces on them: Two large sweet teas, which we would take home and pour into a large pitcher in the fridge to drink at our leisure; a large fry that we would split; and fried Chicken Selects strips that we would put in a freezer bag to heat up in the future. Once we collected all the easy pieces, (you know, the ones that they make 14 million of so you think you are getting close) we started to get desperate. We were spending $10 a day on McDonalds, upping our caloric intake, and getting nothing in return. We came up with a solution: We needed to disperse. Going to just ONE McDonalds in all of Orlando wasn't going to get us the pieces we needed to be millionaires, so we began traveling to other McDonalds restaurants in the metro area hoping to "cheat" the system. Needless to say, we didn't win. I won about 14 free Quarter Pounders with Cheese, and about 12 "free soft drink with purchase of a Big Mac".

What's weird with Subway's promotion is that they are only offering the game pieces on large drinks. Not even on the sandwiches. Odd. I think McDonalds (and other fast food restaurants that use these kind of promotions) should put the game pieces only on healthy foods so you'd have to eat well in order to win. "I won a million dollars!! AND lost 11 pounds!!" That would be the best day of my life.

Its Hard Out Here For a 20-Something

As much as I want to, I can't please everybody. But for some odd reason, when I'm not pleasing everybody, I'm also not pleasing myself. Believe you me, I wish I had endless funds, and endless days in my week to visit people, be where I'm always supposed to be, plus find time and money for myself and my aspirations.

I don't mean to leave people in the dust. It breaks my heart when I can't attend your wedding, when I can't visit you for the weekend, when I can't send you money for your graduation, when I can't call you back for a week because by the time I can its 11pm your time, when I miss your 21st birthday party. I'm sorry. I lose sleep over it. I really do. It sucks that I can't get to know your new boyfriend, or your fiance. Or, when I do take the time and money to go to your wedding, I have never met your husband before. It sucks, and worse off, I never fully understood what a steep sacrifice I'd have to make moving here. I knew it would be tough being far from my family and friends, but I never knew how guilty I'd feel for being here.

I'm so conflicted sometimes. I love it here, I love my life, and I'm proud of who I am, what I'm learning, and where I'm going in my career. But people in my life make it seem like (whether intentionally or not) I am choosing my life over theirs, or that I am selfish for planning things for myself, or missing things because I honestly just can't make the time or pay the price. I get it. You are upset because I can't be there, but I'm trying my BEST to spread myself as thin as possible. I'm not living on the streets, but I only have so much to give in terms of funds. Believe me, my credit card company borderline hates me. I'm not staying in the office everyday of the week, but I do work 11 hour days, have a demanding boss, a boyfriend, am trying to keep some friends around me so I don't go into a depression, not to mention trying to further the REAL career I want in my "free" time. I give you the time I can when I'm not blacking out because my brain is on overload.

I moved here for a reason. And everyone knew that. I'm not here for shits, and I'm definitely not here because I like it. I'd be in Manhattan if I wanted to be somewhere that I truly loved. I'm here because I need to be to do what I want to do. Yes, its across the country, and yes, I have put myself between a rock and a hard place when it comes to having time for others, let alone myself, but everyone needs to understand I'm doing my darndest.

I don't say this to make you feel guilty for giving me a hard time, but I am working hard out here. Honestly, probably harder than a lot of you will ever work, or have worked in your life. Hopefully, it will be the hardest I'll ever have to work/have worked in my life. You're not here to see me hustle. I'm not being melodramatic, slash ghetto, and saying, "You don't knowww me", but...you don't know. I don't know anyone that will be reading this that understands what my life is like right now. And I'm definitely fine with that. I guess what I'm trying to say is this: I can't go 90 and you only go 10. We need to be at a common understanding that I'm trying my best, and you are also trying your best. I'm spending every last penny (and every last fake dollar of my high interest credit limit) to make everyone, and sometimes myself, happy. I will drive hours to see you. I will buy $400 plane tickets to come to your wedding where you barely speak to me, I'm in Palm Coast/Flagler Beach for less than 48 hours, and take 5 hour plane rides straight back to my 60+ hour a week job at 6am on a Monday morning. I'll fly home for whirlwind weekends where I need to schedule time to see 15 people in a 35 hour period. I will call you, albeit its at midnight. I will send you a birthday gift, though I can't be there in person. I'll send my condolences via phone, though I'm sorry I can't be there to give you hugs and make you brownies. I AM TRYING. It hurts me that I am merely a shadow in your life, but please, don't make me feel bad for following my dreams and trying to make it work. I am giving you everything I can, while still trying to salvage a bit for me. Its hard when I'm expected to make time and pull funds out of my orafices, while many don't understand that, sometimes, I need you to do the same. And not only do the same, but also realize that I'm going to NOT be able to do it everytime.

Like I said before: I'm here for a reason. I need the weekends to take classes. I need those "dollas" for headshots. I need the extra minutes/hours/days I have to actually feel like I live here and pay rent for a reason more than just storage of my belongings, the occasional nights of sleep, and a shower every now and then. To be honest, sometimes I want to dish out a few hundo to eat a fancy dinner and buy some shoes on Melrose instead of paying $280 for jet lag, gossip about my sister's terrible relationship, and a guilt trip about how I didn't spend 4 of my 48 hours going to a shower party for a girl I haven't seen or talked to in 7 years.

I appreciate those that make the effort and spend the money to come see ME. Thank you to those who continue to call and leave me non-condescending voicemails until I get the chance to call you back and have more than a 2 minute conversation with you. And all of you, if you ever, EVER want to come visit me, I will take all the time I have to be with you while you are here. I will even do my best to foot every bill I can. If you can't come see me, I will make sure I carve out time when I come home to spend with you and only you. I love all of you so so much. Now give a sista a break.

Oprah Doesn't Lie, Right?

I think she made this up to make us feel better about ourselves...

http://www.thefrisky.com/post/246-fat-is-fabulous-in-mauritania/

THE BEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN

Watch him peel out in the church van at the end. This is hilarious with a capital H.

http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/video/video.php?v=1211810531812&ref=nf

10 Things Cooking Taught Me About Life

I found this article by chance today, and I was brought to tears. Cooking is such an important part of my life, and a real, honest joy for my heart. I decided after reading this, that I could use the joy I get out of cooking for the joy of others.


1. Small gestures can make a big difference. The day after the Virginia Tech shootings, in April 2007, when my community in northern Virginia was shaken with grief, I found myself baking a batch of lemon cupcakes with milk-chocolate frosting. As I admired their glistening tops, I couldn't help but wonder: Could a tiny cupcake make the world feel like a more tender place, even for one bite?
As I delivered the cupcakes to my neighbors, the smiles on their faces were proof that, yes, indeed it could.

2. Cheap thrills are closer than you think. In this BlackBerry-crazed world, growing your own food, even just a little herb garden, can help you appreciate the present moment: the sweet delight of that first cherry tomato, the heady perfume of fresh mint.
During the holidays, I am always thankful for that backyard rosemary when I pluck it from the bush and add it to apple pies, roasted meats, and white-bean bruschetta.

3. Control is overrated. When my fiancé and his stuff moved into my one-bedroom apartment, I was OK with the books and the CDs, the quirky framed prints, and even the oddball knickknacks he squeezed onto my already crowded shelves.
But when it came to my kitchen, nothing was allowed to disrupt the order and flow. So when, a few weeks before we were married, he bought a knife without consulting me, I nearly had a stroke. Of course, my response symbolized my many years as a single woman who had only herself to consider. If I was going to let him into my life, I quickly realized, I had to let him into my kitchen, too.

4. Sing if you must, but quit thinking so much. Despite my culinary training, I couldn't make a pizza dough to save my life. It was either too tough, too doughy, or riddled with holes.
Then a friend visiting from Australia, who loved to sing while he cooked pizza, showed me the error of my ways: In my stressed-out quest to make it perfect, I was overkneading the dough. When I stopped fussing over it, I got it right.

5. There are always second chances. A dear friend of mine died suddenly of a heart attack in early 2007. For months I had intended to cook for him, and now it was too late. Or was it?
In tribute, I baked him a marble cake and took it to his funeral, where his friends and loved ones stayed behind to eat it and exchange stories about this wonderful man.

6. Substance beats style every time. You might think a trained chef has a gleaming kitchen filled with expensive appliances. Well, I spent the past four years in an apartment with a kitchen so lilliputian that even making room for a toaster was out of the question.
My husband, who found bread crisped in the oven an unworthy substitute for the real stuff, pleaded for mercy. So I bought a $3 collapsible tin toaster from a camping store. Not only did it take up hardly any space but it also toasted bread to crunchy perfection.

7. We all have what it takes to create something. The legendary cookbook author Edward Espe Brown taught me a lot about the creative aspects of preparing food -- how the sheer physical act of it is an artistic expression, like painting or dancing.
Now, that might sound a bit lofty when you're racing to get dinner on the table. But if you think of cooking as creating something, even when you're making the most basic meal, you might get more enjoyment out of your time in the kitchen -- where we all possess some creative ability, however great or small.

8. Communicate, any way you can. Two years ago, we weren't sure my kid brother was going to live. He is fine today, but back then, powerless to help him, I placed his photo on the kitchen counter and taught him aloud how to make meat sauce, step-by-step, as if he were next to me. Although the conversation was one-sided, having his smiling face staring up from that photo as I stirred the sauce helped me through one of the most difficult experiences of my life.

9. Your instinct may not be the best, but it's yours. A fearsome chef-instructor at a cooking school in Italy once gave an assignment to me and my classmate Max to make risotto for lunch. While I stirred, chef Sergio sternly reminded us to add salt before serving.
"How much?" we asked. "Enough," he replied and walked away. We felt lost, but lunch was imminent, so we took turns salting and tasting until we both agreed it was just right -- then high-fived to our accomplishment. Did chef Sergio like it? No. But then his food was always too salty for my taste.

10. Less really is more. Exhibit A: the grilled cheese sandwich. If I cooked my last meal over a skillet, ironing two pieces of Cheddar-stuffed bread together with some strong mustard, I would be smiling wide.

Can This Be True???

Oh man. I just peed a little when I got this email from our President, Lee. I will keep you posted if this actually happens for me, (knowing my boss, yeah effing right) but until then, I'm going to daydream about what I'm going to do with my extra 8 hours of the day tomorrow!! AHHHH

START OF EMAIL:

SUBJ: half day tomorrow
SENDER: Rierson, Lee (Reveille LLC)

In recognition of the labor day weekend, subject to your supervisor's approval, Reveille and Shine International staff in the U.S. offices may leave at 1 p.m. tomorrow. Enjoy the long weekend!

your friends,

The Reveille Managing Directors



EDIT: I got off at 2:45...better than nothing!!

FAILS of this week

- Spent $98 online for about 4 pounds of gourmet truffles from an expensive chocolatier in Brentwood. I have yet to eat them because they are in the mail.

- Went to the gym only once.

- In that one time only gym experience this week, I couldn't even run one mile on the treadmill.

- Couldn't find a way to sell my Kings of Leon ticket because its too late of notice, and probably because its only ONE ticket.

- Used my credit card to buy two pairs of TOM's shoes online.

- Dropped my planner on the floor of my bungalow and a really nice mom with her triplets picked it up and gave me a weird look when she handed it to me. When it fell, it was open to this week, and I have two curse words written down because I'm planning on seeing "Inglorious Bastards" and a show at UCB called "Shitty Jobs". I don't think she respects me.

20 Things to Do Before You Marry

http://www.thefrisky.com/post/246-20-things-every-woman-should-do-before-she-gets-married/?cnn=yes

As silly as this is, this is so true. While I haven't completed all of these things (my 25th birthday is still a few years away), the ones on the list that I have braved will forever be in my heart and mind as the things that made me a stable, upstanding woman who is on the road to being mature enough for a marriage. I got teary eyed reading the list and being proud of the things that I have experienced, on my own, in life. It takes a lot of strength to not only complete some of these things, but to GET OVER completing some of these things, and the heartbreak and guilt that comes along with them.

This note also comes on the brink of a revelation I had this weekend.

King David was a man after God's own heart, because of the ways he would respond to the holy spirit's conviction on his errors and immediately be humbled and willing to repent and make right his wrongs. Not because he was a fierce warrior, a devout disciple, and sometimes a terrific person, but because in his weakness before God he would say, "You're right. I'm sorry. I have wronged you. But, what now God? Tell me and I will go." His family was eventually brought to their demise by David's sins, and for a culmination of things, a few being: He was lustful to a dangerous degree, he was "unequally yoked" (I can explain that to you later if you'd like, right now that's not the point of my story), and he was passive in many aspects of his family life. There is a verse that states, "[David's son] was never rebuked by his father, him asking, 'why do you behave the way you do?'" Later in his sons's lives, David would again be passive, not asking the tough questions, not convicting in a loving manner, which would eventually lead to his children's deaths and the deep brokenness of his family and faith.

Sorry. Don't mean to creep you out. :) The reason I tell you this story is because I was convicted of being too passive in my family life, as David was. Not that it will ultimately cause my son to rape his sister or my sons to kill each other, or create some irreconsilable rift in my family (God I hope not), but I do believe that God is trying to speak through me in a way that can touch someone's heart. I call myself a great daughter, a great sister, because of the ways I listen, am patient, and try to constantly make everything smooth over. That's fine, but I do that too much. I'm afraid to tell people what they need to hear because my family is the type that never ceases to tell you the way your life "should" be lived. Because I'm not there all the time, so how could I possibly know what's going on? Because they hear it enough from those around them who aren't speaking words of truth, just words of scorn. Because what if I say the wrong thing and it pushes them away? What if I lose their trust?

My sister is getting married. Its a terrible idea. I said it. Terrible. I can list the reasons. But I won't. I haven't told her that I think this is a bad idea on many levels. I am just being "supportive" because she hears enough shit from the rest of my family; random reasons that don't matter to her.

Do you love someone enough to not be passive about their decisions, their life, and how they are treating others? If you can see the potential in them they can't see, what do you say to them? I'm tired of being passive. I have never been one to stand on the sidelines and act joyful. I dive in, and AM TRULY joyful. I don't feel that way towards what is supposed to be the most joyful day of her life. I feel God is calling me to talk to her about it, but I don't know where to begin, or how I'm going to say something of meaning in a caring way that 100 other people haven't already tried to tell her. Maybe its not my job to change her mind or to make her see that she is better than the life and relationships she is setting up for herself. But maybe, just maybe, if I enter the conversation in prayer, humility, and compassion for her life, God will say the words that I can't think of to say.

Best Craigslist Ads of the Day

The Los Angeles craigslist is the best place for creepers. Here are some of the best posts of the day, and my commentary on each:

1) $eeking Butt models ( Encino)
Do you have a tight, gorgeous, little ass? offering $3,000 per month for the right ass model. Race open, just be slim, in great shape and between the ages of 18-40. Send your picture and contact number. Details when we talk. Be local, IN THE VALLEY.

I love how they used a dollar sign as the S. "Details when we talk"; if that's not rapist lingo, then I don't know what is. And whoever's ass looks great at 40, please let me know.

2) Looking for girls that want to enter or are experience in modeling (Los Angeles)
Looking for girls that in need for modeling portfolio or been thinking of modeling in want to get there feet wet in modeling. Also experience models that want to update there portfolio. If you feel ready to work send your link or pictures of portfolio, and contact number. If you are what we are looking for someone will contact you in set up photo shoot or interview.

This may come across as horribly racist, but if you are having language barrier issues when you write a craigslist ad about "talent", especially modeling, I picture you as a hairy, smelly, overweight Russian or Italian man, and I immediately write you off as creepy.

3) Seek gorgeous actress to play sexy, psychotic hypnotherapist killer (Hollywood)
Internet media company needs a gorgeous actress to play a sexy, psychotic hypnotherapist. Video will contain REAL hypnosis. Plot themes vary: hypnocrime, hypnomurder, and other forms of evil mind control depicted. Actress should be ambitious, intelligent, power-hungry, and comfortable with the concept of total mind control. For consideration, submit portfolio, resume/salary history, contact information, and good time to reach you. Internet-oriented talent strongly preferred.

This is a cult, brainwashing, murder crime waiting to happen.

4) Tickling models (Los angeles)
I look for a ticklish girls for a tickling jobs, serious job, the girls may are very ticklish. No nude !!!!

This one takes the cake. See my above note regarding language barriers. This doesn't sound like it was written by a creepy foreign guy at all.

You Know You're Broke When You...

All of the below I have actually done within the last year. And no, they aren't from Suzie Orman. They have genuinely been compiled by yours truly.

1) Purchase a hamburger with your credit card.
2) Have to get a cash advance to pay your rent.
3) Subscribe to the LA Times Sunday Edition for $4 every 6 months just for the coupons. (I literally don't read any other part of it, except I sometimes keep the crossword puzzles.)
4) Sleep on an air mattress in your $800 apartment room for 7 months because you can't drop $500 for a bed and/or mattress.
5) Have to keep your horrible, time consuming job because you have $1400 worth of debt to pay every month.
6) Have to transfer money from your savings more than three times a month.
7) Use all of your tax return towards your credit card payment and it still only pays for a fifth of it.
8) Resort to eating 7 month old soup and crackers from crafty in your bungalow because you can't go out and buy lunch.
9) Can only fill up your gas tank to $10 every time you go to the pump.
10) Force yourself to work 14 hours a day to get the overtime money.

FML. Actually, more like L is Fing Me.

Life is forever...so don't waste any time.....?

I have many questionable friends on Facebook. And by questionable I mean obscure people from my grammar school days that used to be normal, and now are weird, trashy, thug, slutty, or just crazy. But, they make my Facebook stalking a lot more interesting.

I got a good laugh this morning from the status of a boy I grew up with.

The only reason you would pen a mantra or inspirational quote and post it on Facebook is because you personally believe it would be inspirational to others, or because you thought you sounded smart at one time in your life, and wanted to document it. Here is the forementioned status that just became my favorite of the day so far:

(I highly doubt he will be reading my blog, but I'll change his name nonetheless.)

Bevin Be La Bosa "Life is an eternity...make the most of it - Bevin Be La Bosa"
(I know, I know, I didn't have time to think of a descrete name. moving on...)

Not only did he post this for everyone to see, thinking that it was clever, he made sure everyone knew HE made it up.

Life is an eternity, make the most of it? Doesn't make sense, bud. Thank you for being my favorite status of the day. ....Please don't come shank me.

Beers and Babies

A natural and obvious fact of life as you get older is that you will be inevitably blindsided with things you had not prepared for. This week, I've been bombarded with a maturity epiphany I did not see coming:

People you know getting fatter.

Being in California, and just getting the hell out of Palm Coast in general, I don't stay in touch with a lot of my acquaintances from high school. Facebook is my link to the past. Not only are people having children (which is a whole 'nother realization I had to learn to deal with) they are gaining, ahem, "baby weight", a.k.a., 40 pounds.

Now, when I calm myself down, I understand that I can't expect people to have the body of a 13-21 year old forever. Just the initial shock of seeing their bloated facebook photos is alarming. And, really? 20 pounds? What are you doing?! I can understand 7-10 pounds here or there as you reach your late 20's, but good Lord people. And with all that gettin it on you're doing to make those 3 kids, you'd think the cardio would melt away some of those pounds. Also, if you are still under the age of 30 and have the time to party at classy Razzles in Daytona Beach with your buddies, there's no excuse as to why you are a fatty. Go outside and bench press the cinder blocks your car is sitting on, or chase around your 4 dogs.

The people who have shocked me the most are the people I saw just a few months ago. Either while I was still living in Flagler, or when I came home for winter vacation. At their peak physical shape, and now, 6-9 months later, put on a few pants sizes. Most of these people being those whom enjoy a few (read: 17) beers a night, and now that they are near the end of their college years, don't have the metabolism or liver like they used to. Some though, I could NEVER envision overweight. If you showed me my current Facebook 8 years ago, I would've had a lot less self-esteem issues throughout school. "Yeah, invite that future fat chick/mom-of-two-when-she's-20 to prom. I'm good, thanks."

I hope no one is reading this right now thinking about me, "I laugh at your Facebook everyday fat ass!" My vow as of this day for my future is to gain only wrinkles and fame.

Two Heads Are Funnier Than One

Here's a survey Keri and I completed last night called "Complete the Sentence". We each answered individually.

1) My ex...
Keri- Has a REALLY ugly girlfriend. I'm not just saying that because I'm bitter. We're talkin elephant-like legs and balding.
Ashley- Likes boys but won't admit it to me.

2) Maybe I should...
Keri- Be less critical of fat, balding individuals. Ah hell, she's ugly.
Ashley- Shower more often.

3) I love...
Keri- Being sexy.
Ashley- Food. All the time.

4) When I wake up in the morning...
Keri- I'm lookin like a lion.
Ashley- I'm wishing my company was the victim of a freak electrical fire so I wouldn't have to go to work EVER.

5) I lost...
Keri- This should just say "I am lost" because I really always don't know where I am/going.
Ashley- I lost...all respect for...who have I lost respect for?
Keri- There's gotta be someone. Lindsay Lohan? She's a screw up.
Ashley- Never had respect for her.
Keri- What a lez.

6) Life is full of...
Keri- Shady ass mofosss.
Ashley- Chocolates. Oh, wait. That's life is like a box of chocolates.
Keri- I watched that movie the other night! It changed my LIFE! I'm dropping out of college to be a shrimper for Bubba's sake.
Ashley-Bubba's dead.
Keri- Harsh.

7) My past is...
Ashley- Pretty boring if we're being honest.
Keri- Sad. I can't think of anything either.

8) I get annoyed with...
Keri-EVERYTHING. I'm PMSing hardcore and I hate everything living and breathing.
Ashley- That is a loaded question. I'm pretty much annoyed by everything. How about what I'm annoyed with this month? When my boss leaves people on hold for more than 5 minutes, when people have southern accents, when people don't know how to cook, when people don't eat veggies because they "dont like them", don't get me started.

9) If I had a million dollars...
Ashley-I'd give it to my parents.
Keri-That's really nice of you. I was thinking I would buy myself a yacht.
Ashley-...After I paid off my debts. That would leave them about $500.

Grandma Usin' the Intrawebs

You should know a little bit about my family. They are FLAMING Republicans. They don't know why besides everyone in my family is one, and if you have (or want to have) a lot of money, you have to be a Republican. You can NEVER be a Democrat because only blacks, the poor, and atheists are Democrats. All Democrats want to do is steal your hard earned money and put it into programs that help these "people" who are too lazy to help themselves.

That said, my grandmother is one of those Republicans who doesn't know why. She watches FOX News and believes terrible email forwards full of right winged bias and bogus news.

She also sends me, and everyone she has ever met in her 60+ years, literally three to five email forwards a day. Mostly terrible political statements about Obama, or warnings about what is in your plant food, or how to keep from being raped in a mall parking lot by using your jewelry.

Today, another Obama stab. Apparently (one click on snopes.com will probably prove it wrong), a sign on the side of the road in North Carolina. I know I know, when you hear North Carolina, you automatically think, "Wow!! NC? No way! I always fancied them such a forward thinking state!"

_____________________________________________________________

START OF EMAIL:

Hats off to those North Carolinians!!!!!


Subject: Sign On Hwy 15-501 - North Carolina SIGN OF THE TIMES!!

These signs should be placed at every major intersection in the U.S.
Seen on US Hwy 15-501 at Lamm's Grove intersection. (near Durham, N.C.)

Now if only grandma could give me explanation as to why the sign says all these things about the Obama administration.

HP6 Baby!

Here's what I know about Harry Potter:
-The books, I think there are 7, are extra thick.
-Harry Potter is some sort of wizard who had a terrible childhood and has a scar and plays a flying version of lacrosse.
-Hermoine (sp) is a girl who used to have crazy hair, and now they are making her prettier as the movies go on.
-Ron is a redhead, and must be the sidekick of Harry and H-Girl.
-People go ape shit over it.
-The author of the series is annoyingly unattractive for a filthy rich woman.
-Harry Potter is played by a really creepy guy named Daniel Radcliff.
-In one of the books there are giant spiders (my therapist recommended I call them "angels" so as to soothe my arachnaephobia) so I chose not to read.

Yep. That's the extent of my HP knowledge. My good friend Alex's knowledge of the same matter is just as abundant. His roommate in Boston and he decided, on a whim, to go to the midnight showing of "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince" at their local cinema last night to watch some nerdy, freaky HP shit go down. Alex also geniusly decided to capture the night in what he likes to call a "live blog". While it is obviously not live anymore, the craziness of last night is forever documented.

Read the hilarity here: http://waitinginlineforhp6.blogspot.com/

Here we go...

Oh boy. I'm super nervous about this blog business. There are a lot of things that have run through my mind the last couple months as I contemplated if I should start this webspace for myself:

"Do I want everyone I know to see this?" "Should I censor myself?" "Am I going to make this funny or informative?" "Do I have time to manage it?"

Andddd I finally thought:

"F it."

There are too many interesting/hilarious things that go in my life on a weekly basis that I should share with my world.

Let me share with you what you can expect from my bliggity bloggy blog:

1) Sporatic posts called, "Grandma Usin' the Intrawebs" which are going to be posts of forwards my grandmother sends me (and everyone in her address book) on a daily basis, with commentary from yours truly.

2) Hilarious posts called, "Two Heads are Funnier Than One" which will consist of online quizzes/polls/questionnaires filled out by the comedy powerhouse team of my best friend Keri Stagner and myself.

3) Updates about my daily life here in the L to the A.

4) The occasional rant about the things I like or don't.

5) Probably some other random crap.


Wow. This sounds super lame so far, I hope I can live up to the hype I've created in my head for this thing. Stay tuned.