My Life, As Told Between (Baby Cakes') Naps

Went out in Hermosa Beach last night with a big group of people to listen to this band.  What band you ask?  I have no idea.  I don’t remember much about the actual band as I spent most of the night obsessing about (a) the fact that I had somehow lost my driver’s license on the trek between the front door and the restroom and then (b) the fact that I had somehow found my license and would be spared the ordeal of going to the LA DMV.   I oftentimes have a one track mind (see numerous posts about my hair); this borders on being obsessive compulsive when I’m drinking.  As the night progressed, my friends noticeably winced when they saw me start to say something, wisely and correctly reasoning that it would, in all likelihood, have something to do with my license.  They started ducking out of sight when possible.  Did I mention I lost and then found my license?  =) 

Speaking of my hair (you know you were waiting for it), one of my friends requested I post about The Mullet Months.  Many of you have already heard this tale of woe.  Please feel free to skip ahead.*  About two months ago, I went with a friend to see her hair stylist.  As it turns out, his English wasn’t the best and my Mandarin is nonexistant, so I gave him too much discretion and not enough direction.  No one told me that his de facto haircut, unless specifically told otherwise, is a mullet.  Yes, for the first two months of this year, I sported a mullet.  (*hangs head in shame*)  Children would laugh and point and adults averted their eyes from the disaster atop my head.  I’m only sharing this because I realized last night that I’ve finally shed all traces of the mullet.  It was a cathartic moment.  In an effort to put the painful incident behind me, I’m writing this post and forever closing the door on The Mullet Months.     

*There’s nothing ahead.  Sorry.  The mullet’s all I’ve got at the moment.  Check back in a few days.  Stop harassing me already.  I can’t write under this kind of pressure.  Ack! 

As evident from the title of the post, I dropped by Home Depot on the way home from work last night to buy a filter for my shower, in furtherance of my plan to fix my hair (I will wrap up this topic soon.  I promise!).  Despite the title of the post however, it was actually not at all an adventure (but now that I’ve lured you in, you’re stuck).  It just happened to be the first time I’ve ever been to Home Depot on my own.  It’s a huge and very intimidating space.  And I am very small (well, I’m short anyways) and the opposite of intimidating.  Gadgets of all sorts covered the entire surface of the huge warehouse from floor to ceiling.  Most jarring of all was that utility took precedent over aesthetics, which is not the case in any other space I occupy.  In fact, as a female, I’m trained to put aesthetics above almost everything else, most especially utility.  (How else do you explain high heels?)  You will all be relieved to know though that I only did the paralyzed doe caught in the headlights thing for a few minutes.  After a few deep breaths and a little internal pep talk, I eventually recovered and even managed to wade through the murky waters of my local Home Depot, clinging to a helpful store clerk the entire way, to triumphantly retrieve the filter.  Even if the shower filter doesn’t work, I’m hoping my hair will be grateful I went through the effort and will stop acting up as a show of appreciation. 

My hair has been broken since I’ve moved to LA.  I don’t know if it’s the air, water, or some mysterious hair-destroying agent lurking in the food I’ve been consuming, but my hair has been increasingly ick (I think that’s the scientific term, please correct me if I’m wrong) since September.  I think I may have fixed it though, thanks to a line of shampoos and conditioners a friend recommended. 

Update:  My brilliant molecular biologist, and apparent hair expert, friend has informed me that it is indeed the water.  It’s good to know the real culprit behind my increasingly horrendous hair, but I’m a little disappoint now that she’s dashed my grand delusions involving secret spies intent on giving me bad hair by injecting my food with hair-altering chemicals. 

(Yes, I thought this was blog-worthy.)

I have many complaints about LA and work and life, but sometimes little things, like lunch with a good friend, a sunny day, and a tea latte from The Coffee Bean, make it worth-while.  On the way back from lunch with a friend from my old firm, I stopped by to try the new Lavender Mint Tea Latte.  Yum.  Somehow it makes having to face another 8+ hours of work more tolerable. 

And yes, I realize I sound like a commercial for The Coffee Bean.

Yay, the Patriots won!  Yes, I only half-assed watched the game and yawned through most of the parts I did watch, but there’s still a twinge of pride that my team won.  It’s funny how people become enamored of teams that only have a loose connection to their own lives.  Merely by living in Boston for three years, and breathing the same arctic air as the Patriots, I have somehow adopted them as “my” team (second only to the Niners because I was raised in the Bay Area and because if I say otherwise, there is a reasonably large chance my parents would disown me). 

Luckily, I survived a foray to Hollywood’s Sunset Room last night and made it to a friend’s Superbowl party in Pasadena today.  Barely.  It was touch and go for much of last night.  At least the parts I remember.  There may have been some pitiful whimpering cries of “I’m dying” as I curled up in the fetal position on the couch, broken only by occasional belligerent shouts of “Why don’t you guys care that I’m dyiiinnnggg?!!!”  Most of you already know I have a tendancy towards melodrama and histrionics when drunk.  And when sober.  Oh, and no, I didn’t run into any walls this time round.  Thanks for asking.   

Visited the Getty again, which really is breath-taking.  Managed to avoid spitting over the rails.  I’ve been informed that something about the combination of heights and rails triggers a spitting impulse in guys.  I’m just going to take this statement at face value since I have absolutely no desire to try and prove it.  

Sigh.  Work tomorrow.         

One of my best friends came to visit this weekend, so it was spent shopping, drinking, dancing, eating, and recuperating from one of the most stressful weeks of my life to date.  Although having to go clubbing two days in a row was also rather stressful.  Especially when it involves trying to coordinate 30 people on a Saturday night, coming from all corners of the earth (or at least LA), only to find out at the last minute that the club where we were all supposed to meet was closed, thus entailing the making of last minute plans as everyone was en route to the closed club.  A million frantic phone calls later, we all ended up at another LA club, which essentially turned out to be a guest list only venue.  Award for most appalling comment I heard all night goes to the guy who was trying to convince the bouncer to let a big group of his friends in by reassuring the bouncer that “We have a lot of hot women with us and only one fat one.”  Ouch.     

So as some of you already know, I resigned on Friday.  The partners I’ve been working with left for another firm, for a variety of reasons, and gave their entire team the option to come with them.  We all went because they really care about their associates, which (and those of you who work for big firms know this) is pretty rare.  In fact, they volunteered to have lunch with the parents of one of the other junior associates to reassure them about their daughter’s decision.  Yup, you read that right. 

In any case, for those of you who have yet to experience it, resigning is stressful.  Deciding to resign is stressful.  Packing up the office is stressful.  Saying good-bye and trying to leave on a good note is stressful.  Inevitably burning bridges behind you is stressful.  

Be prepared for a host of new complaints in the upcoming months! =)   

No, seriously.  Why do people keep trying to make me sing?  After dinner yesterday, I was dragged to a small karaoke bar.  There were maybe twenty-five people there.  Keifer Sutherland was one of them.  Weird.  Someone (not Keifer Sutherland) complimented my cleavage.  Anyone who has ever seen me will understand why this is possibly even weirder.

Also attended a great cocktail party in downtown LA Saturday.  The hostess, HB, had amazing appetizers and even better friends in attendance.  I ended up, as is my wont lately, discussing the half ton man.  In exchange, or perhaps retaliation, one of the guests told me an extremely disturbing story involving a heavily overweight woman, folds of fat, and a dead kitten.  (Mental note:  Stop talking about the half ton man.)  The highlight of the party may have been my being drafted into the Cupcake Brigade.  I’m told it’s a great honor.  Thank you, General C.  =) 

In any case, the party renewed my interest in throwing the housewarming party I’ve been talking about since October.  As long as HB caters the party, my friend ML organizes it, and my roommate cleans up afterwards, this party may actually happen.  Maybe in June…

Went hiking with a friend on the Mishe Mokwa Trail in Malibu today.  It was a beautiful day and a terrific one to spend outdoors.  So much better then working.  I need more three day weekends.  

The electricity in my apartment has been flickering on and off all weekend, presumably due to the storm that’s wrecking havoc in LA.  The old Jewish woman who lives down the hall from me dropped by yesterday, during a period in which the electricity was working, to ask for help in resetting the clocks in her apartment.  I think she wanted the company more than the help, since the clocks were bound to flicker off again anyways.  In the fifteen minutes I was there, she managed to tell me about the family, and the baby, she had lost in the holocaust and the husband she had lost to old age.  Her entire apartment was a shrine to her former life, with faded pictures of her and her husband scattered throughout.  I tried to stay and talk to her as long as I could, but soon the walls started to feel like they were closing in on me and I just had to escape.  It was a sad and sobering reminder of what it must be like to grow old in America.  I hope I work up the nerve to visit her again.  I’d like to, but I’m not sure I’m that brave.     

Aside from no hot water and all the food in the fridge going bad, my roommate and I have been forced to entertain ourselves by telling stories and “using our imaginations” this weekend.  Apparently, neither of us have much of one, so we ended up discussing our current topic of obsession – the half ton man.  I don’t know why I find him so riveting.  I think it’s because he makes me reconsider the limits of the human body.  Or that, even tipping the scales at 1,000+ pounds, he’s been married for over nine years.  The idea of a Mrs. Half Ton Man is mystifying to me.       

Ran into someone from HLS at a bar in Santa Monica last night.  I think I may have done a comic double take.  That’s the third HLS person I’ve run into since I’ve been in LA (the other two were at Ikea and the airport).  We were both so shocked, we didn’t even pretend to do the obligatory number exchange and false promise to meet up for coffee.  Oddly enough, even though I’ve seen all these people at totally different places in the city, it turns out they all live within a couple of miles of my apartment.  Small world.

So as some of you know, I went to a co-worker’s party last night. There was hot tubbing involved. Yes, a hot tubbing party in the middle of winter. Only in LA. Party was a fun, nice mix of people rather than a lawyer-intensive affair, which has been the norm for me recently. There was food galore, a small, contained fire in the backyard to roast marshmallows for s’mores, and alcoholic drinks freely flowing. And in an odd twist of events, the combination of an open flame and obscene amounts of alcohol did not result in any hilarious hijinks. Although there may have been some nudity in the hot tub. I can neither confirm nor deny the rumors (but y’all may be relieved to know that I, myself, remained fully clothed).

Hot tubbing aside, had a productive and educational weekend. A little bit of shopping at The Grove. Saw the sequel to Bridget Jones with my new-found friend (who had the misfortune of being seated next to me on a flight to New York a few months ago and hasn’t been able to shake me since). By the way, I agree with the critics, regardless of the movie’s ostensible message, the real message is that fat is unattractive. Met with one of my best friends from high school for brunch at the Grand Lux Cafe. Yum. Finally got Tobe Too washed. It turns out you can only skip washing a car for about two months before you’re unable to see out of the windows. Also learned never to get into the cash only line at a grocery store unless you know (a) exactly how much cash you have on hand and (b) exactly how much your groceries are going to cost. Otherwise, it’s a nerve wracking, nail biting (Hey, let go. Ouch, that hurts!), thoroughly unpleasant experience.

Hi all!  Well, I’ve caved to the pressures of the blogging world.  And by that I mean a friend innocently suggested I start a blog and I quickly acquiesced.  A medium through which I can ramble on and on about the minutiae of my daily existence?  How did I not discover this sooner? =)  Plus, I figured those of you who were constantly being spammed with my Friday Updates would appreciate reading updates on my life only when you felt like it and not whenever I felt like sending out mass emails.  For as long as I maintain this blog at least.  I’m sure many of you know my fickleness and will share my skepticism at the longevity of this site…then again, I do so like to talk about myself, so who knows?

I drove down to LA last Friday and have spent the last few days in a whirlwind of drinking and furniture assembling (and disassembling in some cases).  I’ve sustained a mass of Ikea-related bruises, but rather foolishly keep going back.  Ikea’s like the abusive ex who keeps drawing you back despite all your good intentions.  In any case, the apartment’s starting to look decent, so I hope y’all come visit.  I need people here to appreciate it!  I keep intending to throw a housewarming party of some kind (gifts!), but currently don’t know enough people in LA to even fill up the couch.  I’m going to have to make new friends so I can throw the party so I can get gifts.  Cause really, isn’t that what housewarming parties are all about? =) 

Alright, it’s getting late and movers are coming over bright and early tomorrow (or so they said, which, given my recent dealings with movers, really means they might make it over here sometime next week).  Night all.