This video makes me snicker. Having gone to high school with the Kardashians (Khloe was a year below me), I can vouch for Kris. All the methods she mentions were in fact common practice at good ol’ Marymount HS. Although, she dates Kourtney because by the time I was of age, the teachers had caught onto the calculator trick. As for Kim, writing on the inside of your skirt? Please, amateurs. It’s all about about the inside of your water bottle, in light pencil! Not that I ever cheated……
Hi friends. My friend, Alaina, asked me to recommend a good book for her vaca. Things to keep in mind about Alaina:
She doesn’t typically read. At all. No fantasy-esq books. So no Harry Potter, Twilight, or The Hunger Games. No funky dialects or hard-to-read language. So no The Help or Everything is Illuminated. She wants an easy, beach read. But also not something totally far-fetched or predictable. So no chick lit. No Something Borrowed or Shopoholic. Nothing that’s already been made into a movie. No One Day or The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo or Marley and Me or see above. And so here we are. She wants something contemporary, easy to read (but not stupid), fairly realistic, smart and witty. She’s open to non-fiction, and she loves a good crime story. Off the top of my head, I came up:
…they have the audacity to send me emails, trying to get me to buy things I surely cannot afford. But if I HAD to, you know, like if someone absolutely forced me to purchase absurdly overpriced fabulous furniture for my future penthouse, here are a few things I could make do with.
A mirrored bedside table for my bedroom, of course:
A colorful bench for a themed guest room. Because when you have boatloads of money and rooms to spare, you can have a brightly colored, tribal themed guest room:
A classy headboard I could surely find room for:
Why wouldn’t you need a purple chaise:
A bar cart that rolls. Imagine the possibilities once you’ve consumed a few:
A perfectly vibrant zig zag chair for my closet and/or dressing area:
And something my mother would call a “poof.” Just because.
Remember yesterday when I was bitching about Obama taking over my neighborhood? I would like to recant that.
Obama, I would like to request you move the White House to West Hollywood. I FLEW home. Traffic was non-existent. Everyone was out and about walking around. (See LA, isn’t walking nice?) It was pretty fan-freakin-tastic.
I got home early, gave Bru a bath, and took a shower. When Kara got home, we decided to take the dogs for a long walk. We unintentionally made it La Cienega as people started to line up to see the Motorcade go by. We decided to hang around for a bit.
Bru was none to pleased having to stand there and wait.
After a bagillion motorcycles, police cars, and trucks full of guys in riot gear went by, the Pres finally made his way down to Fig and Olive. (Sidenote: one of the riot police dudes was taking a video of the crowd and waving to everyone. Only in Weho. Always a parade of sorts.)
And as the last troop passed us, Bru got introspective. He really took in the moment:
There would be pictures of Kara and I, had I thought NOT to throw on my “Ames is my homeboy” hot pink shirt, Old Navy yoga pants from 2007, and walk out the door with no make-up and wet hair. Lesson learned. Put some effort in for a dog walk. You may run into the President of the U. S. of A.
Without broadcasting my exact address to the whole Internets, I will say the entire vicinity of my apartment is closed. Which I don’t get. Will they let residents in? How will I get home? My dog child is at home. The news keeps saying, “Prepare for traffic.” HOW DO YOU PREPARE FOR TRAFFIC? And what does it mean if your street is CLOSED?!
Late night on Friday, there were extra Emmy tickets floating around work. It was date night, I was tired, over it all, wanting to go get home, blah blah blah. When asked if I wanted the tickets, I kind of gave a “meh” response. I called my date who said he would like to go but wasn’t dying one way or another. So I somewhat passed. I said I’d take them if no one else wanted to go. Needless to say, I watched last night on my couch.
But now it’s Monday, and Modern Family won big, and everyone at work went, and they are swapping stories, my facebook newsfeed is a collage of behind the scenes pictures, and I feel like a big fat loser for passing. What was I thinking? I had a date, a dress, and nothing to do. Yes, there is always next year, and better yet, ABC has the Emmy’s in 2012, but still.
Note to self: IN LIFE, DON’T BE “OVER IT.” TAKE ADVANTAGE OF EVERY OPPORTUNITY GIVEN. BE GRATEFUL. BE HUMBLED. REMEMBER HOW LUCKY YOU ARE. AND GO TO THE GOD DAMN EMMY’S WHEN OFFERED.
Michelle Obama said Thursday that a pledge by the Olive Garden and Red Lobster restaurants and their sister chains to serve healthier meals is a “breakthrough moment” for the industry.
Darden Restaurants Inc. is pledging to cut calories and sodium in its meals by 10 percent by 2016, and 20 percent over a decade. Among promised changes for children: no more french fries. A fruit or vegetable side will become standard with kids’ meals. One percent milk also will be served, including free refills, unless an alternative drink is ordered.
“With this new commitment, Darden is doing what no restaurant company has done before,” said the first lady, who joined executives of Orlando, Fla.-based Darden for the announcement at an Olive Garden restaurant in Hyattsville, Md., just outside Washington.
“This is a breakthrough moment in the restaurant industry. I believe the changes that Darden will make could impact the health and well-being of an entire generation of young people,” added the first lady, who is leading a nationwide effort to reduce U.S. childhood obesity rates.
On July 15th of 2010, I picked upOne Day, which if you’ve read the book, you’d know that’s quite the coincidence considering the book takes place on July 15th of every year for 20 years or so. I loved it and knew it was going to be a long wait for the movie. Well, a few weeks ago, Kara, coworker Amy, and I made our way to the Grove for a Friday showing. They both wanted to see a “romantic, happy movie” and had not read the book. (Little did they know the story rips your heart out, steam rolls over it, and takes a big dump right on top.) But I was dying to see it, so I allowed them to think we were in for something light and fluffy. Muhahaha. Anne Hathaway’s accent turned out to be far less annoying than I thought. Jim Sturgess is HOT. The guy who plays Ian NAILS it. All around, a decent adaptation.
After the movie, things took a weird turn. Amy so eloquently stated, “You guys, I need to go home, and write in my diary…that I don’t have.” Some agency girl stopped Amy and I and said she recognized us and knew we worked at ABC. Weird. I befriended a French Bulldog in the parking garage named Oreo. Later in the night, Oreo was in the car next to us, so I rolled down the window and said goodbye. Kara and Amy thought I made up his name and didn’t realize we were clearly, involved. We did the only thing 3 weepy single girls could do. We headed to the bar. We promptly ordered pitcher after pitcher to drown out our sorrows. Men who approached us quickly regretted it. We played quite the revealing round of Never-Have-I-Ever. I’m not pointing fingers, but one of us may or may not have had sex with someone they just met as a 21st birthday present. We’re giving girls. One Day turned out to be quite the no-good, very bad, sad, depressing, poor-me-something-strong kind of day.
Love me some Michael Kors, but does anyone else feel like Safari/Resort/Animal Print/Neutral tones has been done? And “Rolling in the Deep” is the music? Hello, they did that on Glee. Played, Michael. So played.
In addition, the actor says, his marriage to Jennifer Aniston wasn’t the golden love story it appeared to be. “I think that my marriage had something to do with it,” he said. “Trying to pretend the marriage was something that it wasn’t.”
I’m sorry, but I’d just like to say: Fuck you Brad. Team Jennifer always and forever.
My mom and I have almost nothing in common. She loves Jesus and George Bush; I fell for a half-Jew, and I’m so far to the left I might fall off the cliff. She thinks all reality television is trashy and pointless, and my first job out of college was Wife Swap. She’s emotional, and I’m just, well, not. But one of the few things I did get from her? An appreciation for nail polish. (Told you this was going to be important). Every Friday, for 30 years, she has had an appointment with Ruthie at a small salon on Ventura Blvd. We’re not particularly high maintenance women, but a mani/pedi every few weeks is just part of our routine. For the Taylor Swift concert a few weeks ago, I decided to rock teal sparkly gel polish. And let me tell you, never ever have I had SO MANY people comment on it. Good, bad, “oh that’s different,” without fail. Women, men, straight, gay…it’s quite the conversation starter. Who knew? If you’re looking for attention, teal sparkles might be the way to go.
Oh my shit, you guys. Are you not watching Dance Moms? Because you should. You should grab your best girlfriend, your couch, and your brain altering substance of choice, and watch Dance Moms. (Red Wine? White Wine? Beer? Pot? Hard stuff? Computer duster? No judgement here.) I’ll admit I was skeptical. I was actually starting to lose faith in reality television. (And that is saying A LOT since it’s been my career for, oh I don’t know, nearly 6 years.) But then my friend, Crissy, started recapping the episodes, which peaked my interest. I was still kind of “meh” about it. And then I happened to catch an episode the other night. And then Kara and I promptly On-Demanded every episode we could find. This shit is frrr reeal. Quality television I tell you. Everybody be hatin on Maddie, but that kid is clearly a STAR. Abby Lee Dance Company FTW.
I just don’t know where. Something about catwalks and fashion week and walking on a different type of catwalk and incorporating the word “meow,” should be happening right about now, but I just can’t get it all together in one witty or smart and not cheesedick kind of way. Sorry kiddos. Sometimes you got it, sometimes you don’t. I’m bust today.
But I do have some sheisty, grainy, all-around-crap pictures for you! Who says I’m not a giver? As most of you know, Bachelor Pad wrapped last week. Contain your withdrawal symptoms, we start shooting Ben’s season soon. It seems like every season, we shoot the finales at a different stage in Los Angeles. (Not that you’d ever know, those set designers are on point, I tell ya.) One of my favorite parts of each finale is exploring the soundstage. It’s so fun to think about the history of each place. Some are cooler than others, and this year was definitely one of the best places yet. Why? Oh, the ridiculously terrifying catwalk above the stage.
Hundreds of feet in the air, suspended by wires and chains, was a rickety catwalk. It was hot as balls, totally creepy, and yet so awesome. I’m not one for heights, but I felt like Angelina Jolie up there. Hook me up in a harness, give me a prop gun, and I’ll pretend I’m being chased by scary bad guys. I so badly wanted to run from plank to plank and swing from chain to chain. Instead, my coworkers and I held on to the railings for dear life and took bad cell phone pictures. Kinda the same, no?
And just in case you’re wondering what the stage looked like from way up there, here ya go. Can you spot your favorite cast member?
While I was getting my coffee yesterday morning, I struck up a conversation with a coworker. I was once again reminded I should never, ever, under NO circumstances engage in conversation before consuming approximately 12 ounces of caffeine. Especially on Mondays. After a 72 hour bender of a weekend. The conversation went something like this:
Me: How was your weekend?
Coworker: Quiet. Next weekend is my birthday.
Me: Oh, are you doing anything special?
Coworker: Well, I’ve always wanted to see the sunrise. I’ve seen a million sunsets, but I’ve never seen the sunrise.
Me: Well, hmmm. Where do you plan to do that here?
Coworker: [Insert expensive hotel name here.] Down at the beach. I’ve just always wanted to see it rise over the ocean.
It was then I realized I had a few options. I could attempt to explain the laws of physics, gravity, and/or the earth’s rotation. I could print out a map and show her where Los Angeles is. You know, where we live. I could call corporate and see if they had any spare Styrofoam balls lying around. And maybe some spray paint. I could stare blankly at her and hope something would click. Or I could just give her some brief advice, which is what I opted for.
Me: Might I suggest checking out the hotel rates in Boston?
Maybe it’s me. Is it me? It must be. Can’t make this shit up.