New York in LA

I did a very New York thing last night: I went to see amateur actors perform monologues for even more amateur audience members. I guess the fact that they were amateur actors gives this some LA cred, but the whole thing reeked more of performance art than budding talent. It was a good call on my part to actually check the event out before committing to anything, because while most of the performers were in need of a good Lather, they weren't exactly our target audience. Andy Dick was the biggest name on there, and he was a no show. To reiterate, not exactly our target audience.

But I am being mean. And shallow. It was actually pretty fun. Just not my scene. I might have appreciated it more had I not been stuck behind a pole all night and maybe could have SEEN the performers, but I need to be near the bar at all times and that took precedence over actually watching the show.

The start of summer

Just when I was complaining that there was no official start to summer here, mine seems to have begun this week, just in time with the actual calendar. Ironic, since I am in one area of the country in which the calendar doesn't reflect the seasons at all, at least temperature wise. I don't know why, exactly, it's just that suddenly this week I got busy at work (still not like NYC, but busy) and all of aa sudden everyone is talking about travel plans and future trips, and it just has that feeling of summer.

Last night I went to a housewarming party for this girl that I met who also just recently moved from New York. She got a deal on a place downtown, which is NOT an an area in which anyone lives, hence the deal. They (the city of LA) are trying to build up the downtown area, so they've developed these great apartment complexes, and to get people to sign up, they'll offer a month or two free rent. Plus, these places have rooftop pools and hot tubs, game rooms, etc., so you do get a ton for the money. However, the rules of real estate to my knowledge have not changed, and in my opinion, it's still all about location, location, location. Her place was great, but you couldn't pay me to live there. Her apartment was nice and big, but we spent most of the time on her roofdeck by the hot tub. I got there around 8 when the sun was setting, so that was kind of nice having the sunset and the big shiny buildings all around us lighting up for the night, but guess what - that's exactly why I left New York. If I wanted roofdecks and skyscrapers, and city trash and elevators, I would have stayed on 33rd Street. I'm glad she's happy, but it's not for me.

I met Tracy out after at Falcon, which makes that my second time there in a month. It was a good scene, but I was tired, and left around midnight. Next Friday we are going to Prey for one of her friend's b-day's. I'm excited for that - I've wanted to go there since it was featured in Entourage last season. I'm easy to please.

The Joys of PR

This is great. I first read yesterday from the Associated Press that Snapple had attempted to create the world's largest popsicle as a publicity stunt to promote their new frozen treats. The result was straight out of any publicist's nightmare - the 35,000 pound popsicle melted before it was even erected, dousing the north end of Union Square in a sticky, strawberry-kiwi flavored mess. You can read different accounts of the mishap here, here and here. It makes my old problem with Cojo and the Flosser seem like beans compared to this.

The irony is that the mishap garnered more press than had the stunt actually worked. I mean, Snapple won't be written in the Guinness Book of World Records, but I've never understood what kind of value that really lends a brand anyway. Sure, there will be bills to pay that Snapple might not have accounted for, but I'm sure they can dip into the budget for Wendy the Snapple Lady, as she is obviously back on the PA circuit. Aside from appearing in the second season of VH1's Celebrity Fit Club (apparently the first season didn't work too well), I saw her name in the paper this morning for - and I'm not kidding - attending a "fat" party in New York.

Of course, there's always the possibility that the melting WAS the stunt, taken from the not-so-top-secret PR book of Brangelina and TomKat. I do find it hard to believe that Snapple, which is owned by Cadbury Schwepps who makes NUMEROUS chilled beverages including 7 Up, Dr. Pepper, and Hawaiian Punch, among others, would somehow lack the technology to create a frozen popsicle that might withstand the elements for an hour or two. But then again, we are just PR people.

Happy Father's Day

... to all of the great dads I know.

Today was a good day. I had told Tracy that I was feeling homesick, so she and her family invited me out with them for their Father's Day lunch today. It was an all-day outing. I first drove up to Tracy's. Then her sister and Mark and their 16 month old baby Ella picked us up, and we met her parents for lunch in Malibu. After lunch we all walked around the many shops and boutiques, and Ella played on a playground. It was hot, sunny and gorgeous out. Then, we all went out for frozen yogurt, and then Candace and Mark drove us back to Tracy's. By the time I walked in the door, after a detour for food shopping, it was 6:30! It was a good day though, and nice to be with family, even if it wasn't my own. Being an only child, I've never had anyone to really share these holidays with, and with my parents being divorced, there was never much "family" available for "family outings". So today was nice.

The party was fun last night, but we didn't stay too long because Natalie drove and neglected to mention that she had another party to go to later. I ended up (randomly) talking to the two people at the party who went to Syracuse. Of course. Another city of millons of people, and I end up talking to Newhouse dorks.

Happy three months!

Three months ago today, I moved to LA. I don't know if that seems like a long time, a short amount of time, or just about right. Oddly enough, I spent a lot of this week feeling homesick for some reason. No reason, really. I guess things here are finally just settled, and it's not so new and adventurous anymore. Apparently my permanent vacation has suddenly become less a vacation and seemingly more permanent. And when I got online considering flights home for July 4th weekend, it hit me how far away (and expensive) the east coast really is.

I still love it here. The weather is great, the people are nice, the pace is nice, the quality of life is high quality. I need to get busier at work and start going out more like when I got here. When I moved here I was in touch with so many people; since I started my job I've barely made an effort. Tonight I am going to a party with Tracy, her friend Natalie who lived in our building on 44th street, and one of Natalie's friends. It is a house party in Sherman Oaks, which should be interesting, for this guy's 30th birthday. I remember when 30 used to sound so old; now we are all getting ready to round that corner. Speaking of time, I can't believe July 4th is in two weeks. In NYC, that always signified the "true" start of summer, when it would really kick off with the hot weather, parties, and frame of mind. Here, it is just another day.

Earthquake, part 2 (or 3, I'm losing track)

I just sat through my first noticeable earthquake action. Sitting at my desk, my legs felt the floor and bottom of my desk rumble for a few seconds, and it felt like it could be an earthquake, but lasted longer than one on Sunday, which was over before I could really think about it. Then, all of a sudden, the walls started shaking, and everything started making noise. It was pretty startling, and everyone came out of their offices at once. Our office is a two-story building, and we have skyilights, so one of the girls who sits under a skylight got scared, but otherwise, it ended with no real incident. I'm listening/watching the news now via live feed on KNBC.com. The news says that it was a 5.3 magnitude, centered in Yucaipa, which is about 70 miles west of us. They are saying no one was hurt and there was no real damage. I say, still better than terrorism!

Earth-shattering news

I went to bed at 9PM last night, so I was not aware until I was driving to work this morning that there had been an earthquake off the coast of California/Oregon, which resulted in a brief (and subsequently retracted) tsunami warning. Natural disasters aside, there were two other stories that shook the earth on this morning's radio broadcasts.

1.) Phil Jackson is back with the Lakers. (Great. I didn't know he left or who he was in the first place, but apparently, that makes me the only person in LA who doesn't know his story. Or care.)
2.) Jennifer Aniston admitted to a Vanity Fair editor (what is with VF getting all the scoops this month?) to be published in an upcoming issue that the reason she and Brad broke up was not because she did not want children, but because Brad was cheating on her with another woman.

This girl has an interesting theory that Brad's peeps may have planted the tsunami story in the hopes of detracting attention from Jen's confession, and even brings MJ and W into the loop. Tom Cruise's people (Lee-Ann) could take a lesson here...

I think I've been in LA too long.

Oh yeah, one more reason for leaving NYC

Sunday, June 12th, NYC: Puerto Rican Day Parade - As the NY Post reports, and as so eloquently summed up by Gawker: "Amongst the hundreds of thousands of revelers, a mere 120 members of the Latin Kings gang were arrested, a lone three people were stabbed, just a handful of guns, knives, and drugs were confiscated, and only two NYPD officers were drunkenly groping women. By all accounts, the event was a smashing success".

And on the left coast, on the same Sunday, June 12th, Los Angeles: The Gay Pride Parade. Funny, the only offense this parade seemed to render was Paris Hilton's dress.

Ah, I do love it here.

Soap Star Sighting

John Reilly (not to be confused with John C. Reilly) who I know best as Sean Donnelly from General Hospital but the rest of the world would know better as Kelly Taylor's dad from 90210, at the Grove last night. Still great looking, especially considering he is pushing 70. I'll take the name of his plastic surgeon, thanks.

I was at the Grove to see a movie. We had gone to see Mr. & Mrs. Smith, but shockingly (not) it was sold out, so we saw Cinderella Man instead. Terrible. It was the most torturous movie I've sat through in quite a while. Maybe it would not have been so bad had I not had the recurring feeling that maybe I had seen this movie before - and about 4 times in different variations. I think it was called Rocky.

My California Initiation

In news that will surely have my parents pleading for my return to the east coast, I felt my first earthquake this morning. It was kind of fun. I was lying in bed, having just woken up but not feeling any rush to get up and start my day. I felt the bed shake, but not a lot, and as soon as I could think, "earthquake?", it stopped. I don't think anything else in my room rattled - I had my eyes closed - but it didn't seem like it. While it was a distinct movement, it wasn't anything that would have woken me up, had I still been asleep. I thought for a second that ghosts were shaking my mattress. Not that I think I have ghosts, I just thought that a far likelier possibility than an earthquake - go figure.

Update on log-lifting at the Stairs: A few weeks ago I commented on a guy lifting a log at the bottom of the Santa Monica stairs -- a makeshift barbell, if you will . What I thought was so bizarre about the whole thing was that he apparently transported the log back and forth with him -- Paul Bunyon meets Body by Jake video to go. Well, I stand corrected. I did the Stairs again on Saturday, and there nestled in a nook near the bottom of the steep set, was said log. For some reason, that is just so much more normal to me.

Reason enough to leave New York

I had a lot of reasons for wanting to move across the country. Most were fairly conceptual in nature - wanted more space, better weather, a slower, nicer pace of life. Others were more concrete - fear of buildings falling on my head from the next inevitable terrorist attack, better weather, and of course, the inevitable waterbugs. I came across this nice reminder of them today which made me give thanks again that I got out right on time.

I spent a good deal of time in New York talking about waterbugs, thinking about waterbugs, wondering when the next time a waterbug would make me consider suicide a better alternative than going to sleep for the night.

My first waterbug scare was in my kitchen on 86th street. I went to open one of the cupboards, and the thing flew out at me, flew across the room. I must have had Nick or Ryan kill it. We always had a supply of Raid - since we knew they were in the building from the ones which scampered or settled for life in the laundry room/basement, and were aware that you can NEVER EVER EVER step on a waterbug because on the off change you actually manage to squish it, the female's eggs will scatter everywhere and then settle and hatch and haunt for years to come. So, Raid, then, yes. Great to spray in the kitchen, by the way, especially when you're cooking.

Later that summer we saw a couple in the bathroom. I think Ryan or Nick was in the shower one time, and I saw another in the tub which we never used. Luckily, the boys always seemed to be around to take care of the problem. Not always, of course.

The next summer, when Kristin had moved in, she woke up one morning to a scratching in her closet. Scratching. The sound of a bug moving across the floor actually woke her up from sleeping. She got up, saw what it was, and started screaming. The thing ran out the door and down our hallway. I'm not sure what happened next, but Chachi had stayed over and managed to corner the thing (or so we thought) with some newspaper or a bag and threw it in the garbage or something. At that point, Ryan came stumbling out of his room, What happened? Always the pretty boy.

You'd think by this point I might have wanted to move out of the apartment. I had already started taking my laundry to the laundromat down the street to avoid the creepers in the basement and the horrific thought that one might find it's way into one of my loads of laundry - while being laundered - and I would end up with a freshly smelling load of waterbug puree with my gym clothes. But no, it was a great apartment, and I for one was not ready to leave. The turning point came during Mother's Day weekend the following year, 2001.

It started one innocent Thursday evening. I had gone to sleep for the night, when at about 3 AM I woke up to some really strange music coming from outside of my window. My window was open because it was unseasonably warm, and because the window in my room also led to the fire escape, I had no screen - only a gate. I have to talk about the music for a second, because it's one of those things that I still think of to this day whenever a conversation turns to the supernatural or something like that. The music was odd - not live music (someone practicing an instrument), and not the radio (I don't think) - it was more like circus music or some old music playing from someone's Victrola. But it was goofy music, and after initially waking me up, made me wonder what on earth it was and where it was coming from at 3 AM?!.

While I was wondering about the music, it came. I don't know if I heard it, or just knew. I never saw it come in my window, I just knew it was there. The next thing I know, the bug is in my room, has dashed from the window behind my bed, and was now hiding out behind my night stand on the other side of the room. At some point I had run to the bathroom to get the Raid - and turn on my light. I was hoping, praying, that Ryan or Jeff would wake up, but for some reason, I didn't want to be a girl about it and wake them. And maybe I didn't want to scare the bug into running into the depths of my closet never to be seen again until I went to put on the shirt the next day and ewwhatsthatmovingonmyneck. While I was perched on my bed - Raid in hand - waiting for the bug to show itself again, I realized that the odd music had at some point stopped. I've always felt that that music was playing for the sole reason of waking me up that night.

At some point, the bug tried to make a run for it, and I used nearly half that can of Raid to make sure it died right there. You have to. Even if it doesn't take a half a can to kill it, the bug can run/fly/transport itself across the room in the time it takes to feel the effect of a spray or two or ten. So the idea is to basically drown it with something, because I swear these things have built up a resistance to Raid over the years. And they may have wings, but they don't have gills. Yet.

I barely slept another wink that night. I wouldn't even lay down on the bed until the sun started coming up, and then I had to get up for work around 7:30. It was awful. That was the weekend I became a changed woman.

It was Mother's Day weekend, and both Ryan and Jeff had gone home to visit their parents, so I was alone in the apartment. I think I had slept at Hilary's that Fri or Sat night, because I was still so traumatized by everything. But I remember Saturday was a nice, sunny day, and I was in my room reading a book, trying to forget my last 48 hours. Then, in the silence of my reading, I heard it. Scratching. Coming from my closet. Faint, but distinct. I almost lost it. This couldn't be happening. Again. To me. Alone. And in my closet, which meant if I opened the door it could come flying out, or fall on my head, or crawl over my feet. Ugh. There was no way I could face that. I truly would have had to kill myself.

So, I did what any girl would do in NYC, I went to my neighbors. And because why on earth would I know the neighbors in my building (?), I went to the neighbors I did know - the guys who ran the liquor store downstairs. Finally, being an alcoholic has some benefits! One of the guys came back up with me, and stood with me for ten minutes as we both looked at my closet and the sounds that WEREN'T coming from it now that there was an audience. Too exhausted and exasperated to even feel sheepish, I had no choice but to let the guy go back downstairs, as I pondered where I was going to sleep that night and how could I pack when I couldn't even open my closet?

So, as luck would have it, as soon as he walked down all five flights of stairs and I was alone again, the scratching started again. From my closet. So I went BACK down to the liquor store, brought the guy BACK up to my apartment with me, and watched as he personally removed every single article of clothing from my closet so we could find this f***er. And guess what? There was nothing there! Of course there wasn't. Because it turned out the noise was coming from mice! Mice in my walls! That's a new one!

You know you've been in the city too long when you'll fall over yourself with relief that the vermin problem of the day is only some abstract moving concept in the walls. Something you don't have to look at or ever see, something that won't expand its wings to a 6 inch diameter and fly at you armed with a personal vendetta, knowing that no matter how many bottles of Raid you may keep, it will be the only one of the two of you to survive that next terror attack.

My Birthday

I turned 29 today (29!!!), and I am happier about having a birthday than I have been in years. I woke up feeling giddy, like a little kid does who can't wait to be older, or like I suppose I felt when I turned 21.

I came into work, and the girls had decorated my office with streamers. No one has done that in a LONG time. I remember working at Behrman - it must have been my 24th b-day (which was probably the last birthday I absolutely loved) - when Jill had decorated my desk and gave me stupid presents that I kept for years after. My company actually gives everyone the option of taking their birthday off, but I didn't want to sit home alone for no reason; I'll save the day for when I want a long weekend or to travel or something. We'll have cake later today. I probably won't do anything tonight, which is fine, since I am still recovering from the long weekend with Kris and Maria. I am looking forward to this weekend, during which I plan to shop, gym, wash my car, and relax!

June Gloom

Like clockwork, every June L.A. experiences what is commonly referred to as "June Gloom". Something about the way the area is situated on the coast and a weather pattern that hits specifically at this time of year gives us gray, gloomy mornings, every morning, and gray, gloomy nights every evening. The gloom burns off mid day, providing nice sunny weather for the bulk of the day, but it's funny - no one ever mentioned June Gloom before I moved here. Not that it would have mattered, but it's like this big secret that Californians keep from the rest of the country. Our June Gloom seems to have started last week, but it hasn't really interfered with anything. Maybe it will allow me to sleep in a bit this weekend.