Bridesmaid and grooming

If I tried to relay every funny story and tender moment and all-around-awesome time I had at the wedding this weekend, this post would be more akin to a screenplay than a summary. As such, I'm going to start off with a single, simple learning I took away from the experience: If I ever get married, it's going to be in LA.

All week, New York lay under a thick cloud of humidity that threatened rain every morning and delivered every evening. The wedding was wonderful, nearly perfect, but I spent the weekend worrying about the weather. The outdoor ceremony offered the option to move indoors, if necessary; the options for my hair, however, were another story.

Because this wedding wasn't about me, though, I'll spare you the frizz-fighting details, and instead link to the photos that have left me wishing for just one more day with my friends. Even if that day is a bad hair day.

New York City Blues

Things I miss about New York:
- The 59th Street Bloomingdales
- Being warm enough at night to go out without a jacket

Things I don't miss about New York:
- Everything else

Yeah. I'm about half way through my trip here, and while it has been great seeing my friends, I'm so over the city. For a change. I will say, though, because I have turned into a much more positive person since I moved away from this septic tank three years ago, that I do like being away on business in a city I know so well and can navigate through so easily. I can't imagine if my job sent me on regular gigs to say, Dayton, or Dallas, where I'd know not a soul and need a car just to get around. Here, I may dirty my own soles but at least I have the knowledge and ability to do so.

The trip started off on a good note, with a familiar celebrity sighting at JFK: Daniel Cosgrove (probably best known in my circle as Kelly Taylor's lawyer boyfriend in the later seasons of 90210, but he's been in a ton of other things). The reason it was familiar is because when I lived on 44th street, he lived and worked in the same neighborhood, and my roommate and I would see him all the time. Even before I realized it was him at the airport, I looked up, mouth gaping as he walked through the terminal, as he is truly one of the best looking men I have ever seen in person in my life. Seriously. Naturally he was with his wife and fam.

And, of course the trip should end on a good note, as Friday I can head out of the city up north to Tarrytown, for my friend's wedding. Photos and stories to come, I'm sure...

Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty

The first time I ever went to Scottsdale - in July - I was told that the summer heat there, which routinely hovers around 110 degrees, feels like someone is blowing a hair dryer at your face. That's exactly what Pasadena felt like today. And just a little bit more extreme than what my apartment feels like now.

Speaking of hair dryers, I got my hair cut yesterday, and while I thought the woman did a great job, she took twice as long to blow my hair out as she did to cut it. I was literally sitting in her chair for an hour, 40 minutes of which were spent under the dryer. The heat didn't bother me as much as my impatience, and the fear that she didn't know what the hell she was doing. But, fear not, she apparently was just taking her time. Her slow, sweet time.

We did hit one snafu when she used too much anti-frizz serum. I have thin hair, and it gets weighed down easily. The brand she used was particularly heavy, and my hair quickly went from sleek to limp. To correct it, she then added this powder or dry shampoo, which brought my texture back. It also left a crap-brown residue on my hands (when I ran my fingers through my hair), on my neck, on my towel at the gym, and later, on my towel at home after I showered. Apparently Bumble & bumble thought ahead only enough to assume (correctly) that brunettes don't want their hair powder being mistaken for dandruff; however I don't really need a day of dirty fingernails and skidmarks on my crisp white bath towels either.

Tomorrow is a busy day. I have a ton of errands to run, possibly an out of town friend to meet for a lunch, a photo shoot for work, and possibly a party tomorrow night if I can get it all together and pack for my trip as well. Sunday I leave for New York first thing in the morning. I'll be spending four days doing press appointments, and then shifting gears into Bridesmaid of the Year for my friend Kristin's wedding. It should be a good week, but right now I am just looking forward to the hotel air conditioning.

Random Tuesday Goodness

For the record, I thought you'd like to know that my suitcase from Vegas - the trip I returned from 9 days ago - is still sitting, open and unpacked, in the middle of my living room floor. I suppose I should just leave it there until I have to pack for my New York trip this weekend.

In other "I need to get my act together" news, my refrigerator currently consists of liquid egg whites, peanut butter, half a bottle of water I purchased at the gym tonight (where I saw Dennis Haysbert) and condiments. I tried going to Trader Joe's on my way home earlier, but the traffic in that lane was nearly twice that of my exit.

Normally I do all my errands and cleaning on the weekends, but this past weekend was a busy one. Friday night, Miya's brother - who I went to high school with - was in town, so a group of us met for dinner and went out to a club. I drove from my house in West LA to meet them for dinner in Venice, and then drove 20 miles in the other direction to Hollywood. After I had spent two hours in the car already that day, commuting back and forth to work in Pasadena. That's normal, right? I mean, gas is only roughly $500/gallon.

The club was fun and Tila Tequila was there. Not that one thing had to do with the other. But we practically closed it down and I had to get up early on Saturday to run all of my errands before heading in to work for an event that evening. I left at 3, worked from 4 until 9, and didn't get home until 11, when I crashed. I had intended for Sunday to be my productive day, getting in all the errands I didn't have time for on Saturday; instead, I spent the day alternating between my bed, reading and finishing Moose, and my computer, where I spent about four hours composing this post. Thank you, by the way, to everyone who responded. If anyone else has anything to add, please do so.

It's kind of weird watching the Celtics and the Lakers play against each other. I remember watching the last time they were in the finals together. In 1986. I was 10. Back then, my hometown played at Boston Garden, not whatever it is called now. (I gave up trying to keep track after it stopped being the Fleet Center). I remember when I was a freshman in high school, our basketball team won the division championships, and they played the final game in the Garden. That was a huge deal back then - 16, 17 year old kids playing on "the pah-quet."

I was a JV cheerleader, and had been cheering for the JV basketball team all season. Part of me was disappointed I couldn't be out in the middle of the Garden, cheering for Varsity; part of me was relieved. Of course, by the time I made it to Varsity, two years later, I decided I hated cheerleading and quit halfway through the season. I wasn't much of a team player. That's actually how I met Miya, though - we both cheered together and complained about it.

Here's a funny picture of me on JV, just for kicks.

I know, you love my hair. Note the ever-important Gap bag. You couldn't carry your stuff in grody bags from Marshall's. (Much to my mother's chagrin).

It's funny. I always root for the Boston teams - the Red Sox, the Patriots - I have since I lived in New York and loved the rivalry. But I went to my first Laker's game this year, and I have to say, I'm kind of a fan. As I write this, the Lakers are trailing by nearly 40. Jeez.

Finally, my uncle tagged me in a meme.

1. Write the title of your memoir in six words: Wherever you go, there you are.

2. Post it on your blog. Done.

3. Link to the person that tagged you. Again.

4. Tag five more blogs: Desiree, Crystal, Tiny E, Hilary, and Nicole

How to Move to LA, Part II, 3 years later

A while ago, I noticed that the single most common search term that brought people to this blog was, "How to move to LA." Back when I was still living in New York, I penned a post with that phrase in the title, and have gotten a fairly steady stream of traffic from the term ever since. Unfortunately for those people, however, the post didn't really explain how to move to LA - at least not past the point of my packing for it. So when one reader emailed me a list of specific questions, I thought I should publish my answers here to hopefully help out anyone else who finds this in the future.

Since I am only one person with one set of experiences, please feel free to offer any additional advice or alternate viewpoints in the comments section.

There's a negative vibe I get from the media, from conversation, and from others that LA is a place where EVERYONE is just trying to make it and that making new friends is hard. What do you think about this judgment? Adding to that, if I moved to LA, I would know only two people, both of whom I don't really know.

Well, first, "everyone" is a sweeping generalization. LA is an ambitious town, and the entertainment industry is highly competitive, but that doesn't have to define your experience. Before I moved, I heard the same thing - that LA people are shallow, vapid, out for themselves. I pictured a city full of Ari Golds and Cher Horowitzs. And yeah, they're here. But people are people, and I truly believe there are good, solid, down-to-earth people everywhere, including LA. It's easy for me to believe that, because many of those people are my friends.

That said (and I am going to repeat that phrase a lot in this post), it's hard to meet people anywhere as an adult without a job, a spouse, or other friends to introduce you around. I had a lot of "acquaintances" when I moved here - people to grab drinks with, really - but only one good friend. Through her, I met some other good friends, then I met more good friends through my job, and more good friends through this blog. But it wasn't always fun - I spent a year constantly feeling "on", like I was going on interviews - and in the process, I had a lot of nights where I wished I had just stayed home.

I would start networking as much as you can, talking to people, if only online, that will meet you for a drink once you move. When you do move, stay busy. Join Meetup.com or an online dating service. Go to the beach, museum, volunteer. There's no shortage of activities here, and I've found that most people are pretty friendly. Most everyone in LA was new here at some point, and I think half of us came from New York.

Best ways for finding a place to live or share with others?

Craigslist and Westside Rentals. I never had to use WR because I took over my friend's apartment, but that's pretty much what most people use.

Is there a community that is safe, near the movie business, and not impossible to rent in if you have roommates - something where you can walk to stores, restaurants, nightlife. What would be your favorite place to live in and why?

First of all, the movie business is pretty broad, and I'm not sure what you are looking to do. (Act, produce, direct, edit, represent, etc.) That distinction is important, because the business is all over LA. While the studios (Disney, Warner Bros, Paramount, Universal) are mostly concentrated in Burbank and Hollywood, the talent agencies (CAA, Endeavor, etc.) are in Beverly Hills and Century City and editing houses, post-production, etc. are all over.

Studio City and other areas of the Valley are probably some of the most affordable areas where young people live, but you can't really walk anywhere. And while Ventura Blvd has some great restaurants, it's not known for its nightlife. Hollywood and West Hollywood might be a bit more expensive, but - especially in West Hollywood - you can walk or take cabs to a ton of great bars and clubs.

If I were you, I would try to find temporary housing (no lease) until you get a job, and then decide where to live. You could find a great place in Studio City and bank on getting a job at nearby Disney or WB, only to end up working at Sony way down in Culver City, which would be a miserable commute.

I've heard great things about Silver Lake and Echo Park, two (I think) relatively-inexpensive yet charming areas northeast of Hollywood. Unfortunately, I don't really know anyone that lives there, so if any readers have info to share, please do.

Personally, if I could live anywhere, it would be Santa Monica. It's a pretty, laid-back-but-citified beach town with good shopping, restaurants, and nightlife within walking distance. It's a bit quieter than I would have liked in my 20's, but at 32, it's exactly what I think I want. (It's also a bit expensive to purchase a condo, which is why I don't live there now.)

What's the weather like year-round? Are there clothes you don't wear anymore, like coats, etc? Do dark colors go out the window for men who dress in nice slacks and button downs for work and lighter colors are used, or is it like the east coast and dark is still a starting point.

One word: jeans. Guys here wears jeans. Unless you are an agent, suits and dress pants are rare. For the most part, everyone - especially in the more creative fields - wears jeans or cool pants paired with some combination of ironic t-shirts, blazers, sweaters, or jerseys. I'm not suggesting you go on an interview like that, but you'll see very quickly that things are much more casual than they are in New York. Button-downs here are more likely to be vintage patterns from Urban Outfitters than tailored trims from Brooks Brothers. I wouldn't worry so much about the colors as the style. You won't see a ton of people wearing gray wool slacks, but it's not Miami, either.

The weather is great, temperate, dry. It's heaven in the winter and a bit cool for my taste in the summer (I like it hot!) but overall, it is fabulous. Keep a winter coat for trips back east, but I gave away all but a few of my wool sweaters. Even in the coldest weather (40's in the winter) you're probably not going to feel comfortable in the preppy Apres-ski style so popular in New York.

I know you're not in the film business, but suppose someone with limited cash moves to LA to try and find an entry-level film job and hopes for the best. What is your reaction to hearing this - the feasibility of it all (monetary suicide/starving) or can it be done in some way?

Well, you're right - I'm not in the film business so I can't give you specifics, like the number of open jobs or the likelihood of you finding one. I have heard, and have experienced, that yes, you really need to know someone. In LA, and in the entertainment biz in general, who you know is often more important than what you know. So start networking. Do you have a college alumni group you can contact? Family friends? Former employers with contacts out here? Get talking.

That said, I had a handful of professional connections when I moved out here. They were all very nice and helpful, but none led to my current job. That, I got randomly off of Monster.com, due to my experience. So take that for what its worth.

Obviously you know that the economy is horrible right now, and I wouldn't suggest picking up and moving without some money in the bank. I had about $8000 saved when I moved here, a small stream of freelance work, and I had paid my first month and a half's rent when I was still getting a paycheck in New York. So I felt okay about my risk. That said, I was also dying to move here, and nothing could stop me. If this is your dream and you have no major debt or commitments back home, I say take the plunge! What do you have to lose? Worst case scenario is that you move back. Just start saving as much money as you can, and have a plan in mind about, at what point, do you start applying to Starbucks? How badly are you willing to work to make it?

Any recommendations if getting a job before moving isn't a possibility?

Network. Save as much money as you can. Sell the stuff you don't need. Be prepared to work at Starbucks or waiting tables or in retail. I would also take a trip out here, just to make sure that you like it. See if you can set up some informational interviews. Get a feel for the city and the industry you want to work in. Make sure it's something you really want. If you aren't comfortable staying with friends, look for a housing swap on Craig's List. Start a blog about your experience. Get some advertisers.

(As an aside, I tried pitching my move to MTV as a documentary special, hoping they might finance it: Spunky NYC girls packs up and moves across the country! Watch as she navigates finding a job, driving a car, and looking for love in the land of La! They didn't go for it, but hey, I tried.)

What are some things you could not have known about LA, or didn't believe until you lived here, i.e. traffic.

Honestly, I didn't expect to be continuously surprised by it's beauty. LA does get a bad rap in the press (smog, people, congestion, vapidity) but even after three years, I am still finding amazement in the architecture, the ocean, the desert, the views. I guess I just assumed it would have gotten old by now, the way New York did. Other than that, I really had no idea what to expect, and came here with little-to-no expectations.

What is the price of brand name gas (Amoco, Mobil, etc.)?

Currently, at this very second, my local Mobil is selling it for $4.61/Regular. That will probably go up to $4.64 tomorrow. It has been going up about $0.03 every other day. Only two or three weeks ago, I was paying $4.29. It is miserable.

Are necessities in general more expensive?

Compared to most areas of the country? Yes. Compared to New York, they are actually cheaper. I remember on my first morning here, realizing my daily Tall drip at Starbucks was $0.25 cents less than in New York. That's a savings of $1.75 per week, $7.00 per month, $84.00 per year. That's a pair of shoes! Groceries are less expensive (compared to New York) and I can buy in bulk and throw in my trunk, rather than carry up four flights of stairs and into my single kitchen cupboard. Dinners out are less, alcohol costs less. All compared to New York. Rent is less, or if you live in a more expensive area, comparable to New York, but you get so much more. I wouldn't recommend making the opposite move.

Any tips for saving money that you might have picked up?

Shopping at Target. Buying in bulk. Having a car versus living in Manhattan has allowed me to do both these things which weren't an option before. Also, having to drive all the time has cut down on my drinking considerably, so my entertainment expenses are much lower. Trader Joes is usually cheaper (and better) than regular grocery stores. I signed up for the Spare Change program with Bank of America which deposits the balance of every dollar I spend on my debit card into my savings account. (So if I spend $5.64, $0.36 of that is automatically transferred to my savings.) I also have $50 per month automatically moved from my checking account to my savings account ($25 on the first of the month, $25 on the 15th). I use one credit card that gives me airline miles so that, occasionally, I will get a free flight. (The key to this though, is to make this your only credit card, and use it only for the things you will buy anyway. You might as well get something for the money you have to spend.)

SPECIAL BONUS ADVICE:

One of the easiest and most helpful things you can do - if you aren't doing this already - is reading. Start reading the LA Times online, if not every day, at least on Sunday. Subscribe to Defamer and LAist and Nikki Finke's column. Even if you don't understand or relate to the specifics right away, you'll pick up a sense of the city and the industry, get familiar with key players, and broaden your knowledge base which will help when you start going on interviews.

Also, someone once told me that it would take 18 months to feel like LA was my home. That advice was spot-on. While I loved it here since Day 1, it took almost exactly 18 months for me to really feel comfortable here - like I had my own friends, my career, and a life that moved forward without me having to nudge it a little.

And finally, I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you to get a Thomas Guide.

Good luck!

When words collide

Last night I had the opportunity to meet one of my favorite writers, Stephanie Klein, at the book signing for her new coming-of-age memoir, Moose.

My mom introduced me to her first book, Straight Up and Dirty, about a year ago. I read it in three days. Since then, I have been reading her blog, Greek Tragedy, and following along with the ups and downs of her life - from afar, of course, in true blogger style: getting intimately familiar with the details of her life without actually knowing her.

A few weeks ago I saw that she was coming to a bookstore only a mile away from my office. I'm there! I thought. It's too good to pass up! And then a small cosmic turn of events happened that made me even more excited to go.

New reader Desiree randomly left her first comment on my blog the other day, so naturally I went to her blog to check it out. The top post just happened to be about her coordinating raffle items for this exact event, and did anyone have any ideas. Um, our store is in Pasadena, and our products are ideal for the book's target genre. I happen to be the person in charge of gift basket requests, and this could not be a better fit. Not that she had known any of this when she commented.

So I volunteered my products and met Desiree last night (she's very pretty and nice by the way) and we talked about blogging and our backgrounds - again, familiar with the persona but not the person. Then Stephanie came out and warmed up the crowd, and read some excerpts from her book to engage us. As if we needed any encouragement to buy it. Preaching to the choir, you might say.

Now, I had always thought I had a lot in common with her - the New York thing, the camp thing, the half-Jewish thing, etc. That's fairly common with bloggers, though - we find a few similarities to which we relate and then fill in the blanks with our own ideas of what they might be like. But some of the stuff she spoke about went into a more in-depth, psychological level, and really mirrored a lot of the same thoughts and feelings I've had running through my head for the last few months. Her issues are different than mine on the surface, but really, not at all dissimilar. I sat in the front row fully engaged, sure she must be thinking I'm some sort of crazy person not capable of breaking eye contact.

I ended up being the first in line for the signing, and before I could introduce myself, she said, "How do I know you? I've seen your face before." Flattered (!!!), but suddenly shy, I told her that I've commented on her blog once or twice and perhaps she'd clicked on my handle. She concurred that yes, maybe that was it, but neither of us seemed convinced. We clearly recognized something in each other.

I gave her my name, and my mom's name (Mom, of course I got you a copy!) and stammered a bit telling her what I did and where I lived and all that. I didn't even look at the inscription until after I had paid for the books downstairs. And to my not-so-surprise, it started with a sentence plucked from my own brain, a common theme but one relevant to me nonetheless. I don't know if, by my rapt attention during certain parts of her reading, she inferred what I wanted to hear (or, rather, read) or whether I'm attracted to her writing because this is what it's fundamentally about. But I left feeling connected, like coincidence was on my side.

Oh, and of course, I can't wait to read the book.

But now we're rocking on the dance floor...

Before you look at the following photo from last night in Las Vegas, please promise you'll ignore the fact that I'm wearing the same dress I wore to my birthday party last weekend.

Considering I own no less than 10 additional-yet-similar dresses, I'm not sure why I opted to wear the same one two weekends in a row. Especially since, now that I look at the photos, I've decided it's possibly the least flattering thing in my closet. I don't care how much this style may be in style, I'm officially over the pregnant-babydoll-sad-sack-of-potatoes look.

Other than this one night's wardrobe, everything about this weekend was fantastic.

Friday night was a low key dinner before heading out to Prive at Planet Hollywood, where Kristin had gotten us on the VIP list. Now, I'm not a huge club person. I went through a phase in my early/mid-twenties when I loved dancing on platforms and twirling glo sticks and sidling up to sweaty men who considered t-shirts optional. But even then, while I could appreciate the (glamour?) excitement of the club scene, I've much preferred laid back bars and lounges and going home before 4 in the morning.

So I don't know what got into me this weekend, whether it was the supposed-oxygen being pumped into the air or the energy of being around my friends, but I surprised even myself with how much fun I could be. At Prive, we started out with a price-inflated bottle of vodka in the somewhat sleepy VIP section, but there wasn't a lot going on, and at around midnight we decided to go somewhere else. As we walked out, however, we noticed a separate room with entirely different music, people, and energy. And we danced until 3 in the morning.

Saturday, we headed to the pool at the Hard Rock. We were going to get a cabana, but those were all in the shade and further away from the action than we liked, so we got a day bed instead. In short, it was awesome.

We had a waitress bringing us food and drinks, a DJ spinning great music all day, an endless supply of eye candy, and it was basically the biggest display of hedonism this side of the Playboy mansion. In fact, it was exactly what I imagine the pool at the Playboy mansion must be like - well, without all the naked ladies. (Although we do all look naked in that pic, don't we? I swear, it's just the camera angle and our attempt at avoiding tan lines.)

Saturday night we had dinner plans at 8, and the Thunder from Down Under show at 11. Now, if I'm not really a club person, I'm even less of a cheesy male strip show person. But this turned out to be a hilarious, high-energy, fully entertaining hour-and-a-half of fun. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I highly recommend it.

On a normal night, I'd have been clamoring for bed by now, what with it all of 12:30 AM. But it was not a normal night, and so we headed back to the Hard Rock to dance at Body English until 4:30 AM. Per my suggestion.

Seriously? Who AM I? I, apparently, regressed for the weekend into Fun Lori of the Summer of 2000, when, after breaking off a fourteen-month relationship, decided I had spent too many Saturday nights dining with adults and not enough dancing with degenerates. No, I haven't regressed into that girl at all, actually, but it was fun for a weekend to party it up and pretend I was someone more fun than I have been feeling lately.

The nice thing about going to the clubs and dancing for hours was that it kept me from drinking too much. Really, have you ever tried to dance with a drink in your hand? It doesn't work so well. So, while I drank heartily and consistently throughout the weekend, I never felt too full or fat or drunk or hungover. In fact, I may have even gotten in a workout.

I am tired today. And quite a bit poorer. But, while that would normally worry me, I came home to another freelance check and my economic stimulus check in my mailbox. I can't help but think that's the Universe's way of telling me it's okay to loosen up for a little while.

That Universe can be such a bad influence.

No money, but Vegas, baby

I have been so apathetic with writing lately. I just can't find anything new to say.

The news now is that I am heading to Las Vegas tomorrow, for my one of my dearest friends Kristin's bachelorette party. Normally I'd tell you about the first time I went to Vegas, but I've already done that. So, naturally, I'd want to bring up the last time I went to Vegas, but I've already done that, too.

I'm hoping this trip will fall somewhere in the middle of both visits, a happy medium between staying out til 5 AM and getting eight hours of sleep. Ideally, I'd have no problem staying out til 5 AM this time around, but my 32 year old body might beg to differ. It took until Wednesday of this week until I finally felt rejuvenated from my birthday party - on Saturday - and I didn't even drink that much! I've decided that four-day hangovers are nature's way of telling me I'm too old to be consuming alcohol as one of the four major food groups.

But I also know I am going to have a lot of fun this weekend, because I'll be with two of my best friends, and also a group of other girls that I know are really cool and fun and low on drama. I am a bit worried because Maria has had a stomach virus all week - so bad that she was at the hospital on Saturday and on a diet of Popsicles since (damn her looking better than me in a bikini!) - and even if she doesn't cancel tomorrow, she's going to be at half-mast all weekend. I was really looking forward to the QT with my girls, and now, it's just going to be a little bit different. But I am excited to go out, dress up, do it up with flashing penis veils and Thunder From Down Under, partying the way only these friends and I can.

I feel like I have gotten into a bit of a rut here in LA - there's always the driving thing, and then there was the dating thing, and then there's the fact that somehow, most of my girlfriends here seemed to have gotten boyfriends - and I look back and I can't remember the last time I actually got dressed up and felt cute and flirted and had fun. I mean, aside from last weekend. I need this weekend to feel a bit more like myself, or at least the person I used to be.

I'll post pictures on Sunday of what that person looks like, assuming they let her pass through security.

Thirty-too-old-to-party-like-this-but-too-young-to-stop-now!

Where to begin, where to begin.

My Birthday! Weekend! Spectacular! actually started on Friday night, not with any birthday activities but with my seeing Sex and the City: The Movie. What can I say? I loved it. I'm a chick. I loved the show. I have the six-season DVD box set that I play in between the PG-rated reruns on TBS. The movie was like watching a yet-to-be-taped Season 7, a confectionery mini-series minus commercials. I loved the writing, the cinematography, the wardrobes. The plot was a little simplistic and slow and some details were completely unrealistic, but none of that mattered. I sat in the theater for two-plus hours with a shit-eating grin on my face and I swear it had nothing to do with the bottle of vodka I sneaked into my Sprite.

Saturday morning I woke up bright and early to prepare for the second annual birthday party with Nicole. Our friend Lauren let us host the party at her fabulous Malibu house, so we spent the day food shopping and prepping and generally, just party planning. The event started at four, most guests started showing up around five, and by seven the party was in full swing, just in time for the start of a gorgeous sunset.

Why yes, that is the view from the deck.

By nine or so I decided it was time for a dance party.

I thought I might demo The Charleston.

And practice my showtunes.


"Together, wherever, we go"

I think the last guests left around 11:30 or midnight, and I crashed soundly in the guest room, so, so, so happy.

Sunday we woke up, cleaned, and just lazed in the sun, sleeping off our hangovers. There could be worse things.

My company gives everyone the day off for our birthdays, so I took full advantage of that this year, and spent the day cleaning, running errands, and catching up on general weekend stuff I had to forgo in lieu of party-planning. Oh, who am I kidding. I slept late, spent half the day on the phone and the other half marveling at all my awesome Facebook messages, feeling extremely blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life who actually remember to wish me happy birthday. Who am I? And how did I get so lucky? I know I wrote something similar last year, and I don't want to repeat myself, especially since I am too tired to articulate it as well, but I just feel ridiculously, overwhelmingly blessed.

I also feel extremely exhausted and have been nursing a weird case of heartburn since last night (why, hello 32 - is that you?) but I still met Tracy out for dinner tonight, capping off my birthday weekend with the girl who has been my best friend since I moved out here three years ago. I really could not ask for anything more than what I have, and I am so glad my 32nd year has started out as amazing as it did.

Next stop: Vegas. Four days and counting...

In case you were wondering how the party was

this pretty much sums it up.

I'll write a longer post tomorrow, but in the meantime, you can see more photos here. Enjoy.