Like a child in grown-up's clothing

I had a doctor's appointment this morning, and since it was at 9 AM on my side of town, I was looking forward to sleeping in a little bit. Because it was a slight change in my routine, though, it only made sense that I would have anxiety dreams about missing it, which in turn made me almost actually miss it. I woke up from the last dream at ten past eight, and realized that I'd inadvertently set the alarm for 7:30 PM. Oops.

Interwoven with that dream, I also dreamed that I was hours away from getting married when I realized that I didn't want to get married to my soon-to-be husband. It was nothing personal - I didn't even know who he was. He was just some unnamed, blank-faced figment of my imagination. In my dreams, I had to wait for his family to come in from afar, then rush to my doctor's appointment, then find him before the start of the ceremony so I could end things like a responsible human being who'd just spent $30,000 on a party.

My subconscious has apparently been working overtime in adulthood lately, as the night before I'd dreamed that I was changing a poopy diaper. There was a baby attached to the diaper but it wasn't mine and I didn't seem concerned with whose it was or why I was charged with changing it. No, I have just never actually changed a diaper before - ever - and in my dream I was primarily concerned with whether or not I was doing it right. I remember being proud of myself that I'd managed to do so, until I woke up and really thought about the process, at which point I remembered that I'd never actually removed the baby's clothes and instead just dabbed at the mess on the outside of the pajamas. Also, oops.

If I had babies on the brain, it was for a few reasons. For one, that day, I had been shopping for gifts for my friends' kids - including two newborns - who I am going to see next week. Then, I came home and read that Dooce had had her baby, so I spent the late afternoon checking for updates on the name and details. Then, finally, in the evening, after exhausting my television rerun options, I ended up engrossed in two hours of this show on the Discovery Health Network: I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. What?

Have you watched that show? Are you aware that it is not only possible to go through nine months of pregnancy without knowing it, but that it is seemingly a common occurance in certain parts of the south and midwest? I watched, transfixed, the stories of young mothers having babies in toilets, on the living room floor, and in one case, a dirty bathroom in a Wisconsin camping ground. Throughout the episodes, both the narrator and the mother explain very clearly and convincingly how this phenomenon is possible. The women have irregular periods; they are unusually skinny or extremely overweight; they never develop any symptoms other than an odd craving for pickles or unusually swollen feet. The next thing you know, they go to bed and wake up to the baby crowning.

No wonder I've been having nightmares.

The baby dream, by the way, had nothing to do with my doctor's appointment this morning. Let me be perfectly clear.

Speaking of kids, I volunteered for my local alumni organization this past weekend, helping them out with an event that welcomes new graduates to the LA area. I was there to talk about my career in PR, and answer any questions from students looking to get into the same field. The event as a whole, though, focused on what it's like to move to Los Angeles, and I'd say at least half the questions from this post came up. "How to move to LA" is still the single most popular search term that brings readers to this blog, responsible for a good 5% of traffic, and about 50% of new visitors. So, I'm thinking that there is a legitimate market for this, and who's a better person than me to sit down and write the book? Right? Right! So, do you know anyone who wants to give me a book deal? Right...

The night before the alumni event, I spent with another friend who is moving here from the east coast. She's moving to San Diego, but we're in similar fields, so many of the same rules apply. As I was throwing out suggestions for networking, I realized, I may have found my niche.

When I'm not helping people move to the west coast, though, I am making my own plans for an upcoming trip back east. I'll post later this week with details, but in the meantime, can you suggest any good airplane/summer vacation reading? I don't mean to hijack (ooh, bad choice of words, there) Hilary's What Have You Read posts, but I am in need of some engrossing, yet lightweight, reading material.

Preferably not having to do with babies, diapers, or doctors. Thanks.

Random Wednesday Goodness

Yep, still here! Not too much going on at the moment, but here's a brief update:

As you can see by the (expired) ticker in the upper right hand corner, I met my 40 mile cardio goal in March. To celebrate, I decided to take April off. Not from exercising completely, of course - do you not know me at all? - but from making cardio/running my main goal and reporting the progress here.

I have been setting these goals for myself since October, and, to be perfectly honest, I am thoroughly sick of the gym. I've been doing mad yoga (that's not like hot yoga or anything, just an enthusiastic way of saying I've been doing a lot of it), but otherwise, I can't bring myself to walk through the door. Now that it's getting nicer out, anyway, I'd rather bring my workouts outside, and I don't know if they make a ticker that would track my laps up and down the Santa Monica Stairs.

Despite my slacking, I'm not that worried about gaining weight, since, at three weeks into Invisalign, I've already seemed to have lost some. Only 2-3 pounds or so, but that's enough to keep me guilt-free until I consider re-starting the mileage goals in May. Of course, every time I stop working out I tend to lose a little weight, because muscle weighs more than fat. Unfortunately, muscle looks much better in a bathing suit.

Having nothing to do (well, having little to do) with the Ghost Cat, I decided to burn some sage throughout the apartment last week. It's supposed to be a spiritual cleanser, and, truthfully, I felt like my spirit could use some cleansing. So I bought a bundle of sage leaves, read up on how to burn them, and did so last Thursday night. Everyone always talks about burning sage to get rid of spirits and cleanse the soul. You know what no one tells you? That burning sage smells exactly like marijuana. Which I suppose wouldn't be a big deal to some people, but I don't like pot, and more than I don't like pot, I HATE the smell of smoke.

I don't like smoke or the smell of smoke coming within any discernible distance of me. My mom, who is a smoker, mailed me a book last week. It was a great book but I had to read the whole thing in the living room because I didn't want the pages - which still smelled of her Barclay 100's - within breathing distance of my sheets. And, now, here I was spreading what smelled like marijuana smoke all over my comforter, every item in my closet, and every nook and cranny of the house. Wearing my favorite dress that I had just brought back from the dry cleaners. I opened the windows as far as they would go, at which point I realized I was giving my neighbors totally the wrong impression. I'm not nearly that fun.

In any case, the whole time I burned the sage, I mentally told the Ghost Cat he could stay. I really kind of appreciated his presence.

The book, by the way, that my mom mailed me was Carrie Fisher's Wishful Drinking. It was cute, funny - all about her experiences growing up, living, and drinking in Hollywood. It was also a quick read - I read it in three hours one night - so it wasn't that big of a deal to have to read it on my couch.

After I finished that, I immediately started the Dooce book. Hilarious. Awesome. I highly recommend it. It's written in the same witty tone as her blog, but, as a story, is much more thorough and satisfying. I read a little bit each night, the whole time dreading the night it would be done. That night was Monday, so if you have any recommendations, please feel free to make them.

Finally, in case you were wondering, I decided not to take another class this quarter. The Humor Writing class that I wanted turned out not to be closed, but was canceled due to a personal issue with the instructor. None of the other writing classes really grabbed me, and, when I really thought about it, I didn't want to shell out money for tennis lessons -- I already know how to play. So, instead, I am actually attempting to enjoy this down time, reveling in the self-imposed slackdom from the gym, trying to reconnect with my friends and with myself. Doing a little spring cleaning for the soul.

Which, let's be honest, is much more fun than cleaning my apartment.

Random Tuesday Goodness

So, remember this dress? I wore it today for the first time this season, and, for the first time ever, didn't need the Spanx. Apparently, FINALLY, thankfully, my hard work is working.

Random Tuesday Goodness is usually comprised of bullet points, but tonight, this news is more than enough.

Random Tuesday Goodness

I seriously have not been this busy, work-wise, in months. I'm actually pretty busy socially, too, but that seems to ebb and flow. Work, for the most part, is pretty tame, but suddenly I'm doing Power Points at 10 PM and don't see it ending til at least October. That, of course, is a good thing.

Remember last month when I said I had something planned every weekend in June? I can already say the same about July - and it's only the first day! Can someone please slow down the calendar, just for a minute? Or maybe a year?

Highlights of and funny stories from the wedding:

- Setting off the fire alarm in the bridal suite. Kris and I were getting makeup done, Maria and Sabrina were running around. Suddenly, the alarm goes off at full volume, throwing us all into a panic. What do I do in a panic? Well, grab my camera, of course. Must. Capture. Memories!

Fortunately, Maria was a quicker thinker than I, and raced into the bedroom to cover Kristin's dress, which was sure to be doused by the sprinkler system if this kept up. Just as we finally resigned ourselves to maybe stepping outside, the phone rang.

It turned out, the problem was coming from inside our suite: Sabrina left the steamer on, facing due north directly into the fire alarm. Only the Tarrytown Fire Marshall could turn the alarm off, so we sat, getting ready, under the shrill piercing for another 20 minutes. Fortunately, there were no sprinklers.

- I mentioned the weather? The wedding was set to start, outdoors, at 6:30. At 6:15, it started raining, and the crew transported the entire set-up - 10 foot flower arrangements, seating for 100 and all - inside. The wedding started maybe only 10 minutes late. And five of those minutes were because the Maid of Honor couldn't find her flowers. The wedding was held at Castle on the Hudson, and while I'm sure an outdoor ceremony would have been nice, I really preferred the old Medieval architecture and the sacred feel of the banquet hall.

- While dancing with one of Kristin's friends who I dated once or twice in New York, I was told that I had this happy glow about myself he didn't remember. "You just look so, so... radiant," he said, "so different from when I knew you." "I'm happy now," I replied. And I am.

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

Random Wednesday Goodness

I don't have much to write this week - basically, I am just posting for the sake of posting. I have been practicing some writing exercises lately - just for fun! flexing my brain muscles! - and the one tip I see over and over again is to just start writing, not edit, and keep going for five, fifteen minutes straight. That's not what I intend to do here - thankfully for you - but I thought it might get the blood pumping.

Oddly, just when I decide to start trying to write more, more writing has found its way to me. I've picked up a couple of freelance assignments recently that are easy for me to do, but challenging in a way I haven't been in a couple years. It's also nice to have some extra cash flowing in, even though said cash is going to straight to my AMEX bill. I've been eyeing some new bags and some shoes and maybe shooing the bags under my eyes, but for now, I'm just doing what I can to break even.

On the work-front, I am headed to New York next week for another Spa event. I leave on Saturday morning, and will spend the night with my friend Kristin. Sunday I'll head into the city, and I'll spend four days in the frigid cold before heading back here on Thursday. Despite the temperature, I am actually looking forward to the change in scenery and seeing my friends. Apparently if I stay stationary too long I get antsy. Wasn't I just complaining that I travel entirely too much?

Maybe so, but I did get bit by a little travel bug this morning. My friend Karen, Briztow's mom, sent me photos from her recent honeymoon in the Virgin Islands. Looking at the blue skies and white sand and crystalline water and rolling hills had me salivating even before I noticed the bottles of champagne and wine and rum and beer in every photo. Mmm, vacation. No sooner had I closed out of Snapfish than I received another email from my friend Lauren, this time directing me to Kodak to look at her album from France and Germany. The opposite of the Caribbean, Western Europe was snow-white and bitter cold, but I couldn't help but want to be there.

I've mentioned before that I went to Europe once, when I was 19. It was an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime kind of trip, but I never really ached to go back. I just remember the hassles of the different languages, different currencies, and living out of a suitcase for five weeks straight, and I was happy to have my European adventure behind me, residing only in photos and memories. But, after looking at Lauren's pictures today, I miss it. I've missed a lot, it seems.

What I won't miss, however, is tonight's Project Runway, on in 10. Aufweidersen!

Random Thursday Goodness

-- You know how a few months ago I saw celebuspawn Scout Willis at my local Starbucks? This morning I happened to catch her sister Tallulah there. Is it weird that I absolutely LOVE that name? Is it weird that Tallulah is 13 and drinking coffee?

-- For the past two days, I have been obsessed with the dialogue generated by this blog, written by Wired magazine's Editor in Chief. The editor, it seems, has been besieged by spam emails by publicists trying to get their item run, and in response, he "outed" their email addresses, in part to embarrass them but also in the hope that spam bots will pick up the addresses and give these "flacks" a dose of their own medicine. This story has been covered to death on all the industry blogs, including my good friend's over at Candyland, and I kid you not - I think I have read every one of them. Twice.

I am so obsessed with this topic because this is exactly what I do. Not spam editors - that's exactly what I try NOT to do! - but pitch editors my story in the hopes that they will want to write about it. As I commented on his post, I can't imagine ever pitching an Editor in Chief. Anyone who has worked in PR for more than a year would know that an EIC has little to do with assigning, let alone writing, stories. They're more about the big picture and direction of the magazine, as well as acting as a "face" of the brand. Part of the problem, of course, is that it's often these junior publicists or even interns making the media lists and sending the pitch. When I worked at an agency, though, senior staff always reviewed the list, and if there was anyone glaringly wrong on there, it would get taken off. I've worked in beauty and fashion my entire career. I've never once sent Anna Wintour a press release.

I was surprised to find how many publicists came out and said, "Well, you make it so hard to find the information. The website only lists one email address." Um, pick up the phone and ask. Or, better yet, read the source you intend to pitch. This, my friends, is exactly why I get so stressed out sometimes. I complain that I'm overwhelmed, that I "have so much reading to do", and while that probably sounds important, often it's just a week's worth of Women's Wear Dailies I need to catch up on. I read practically everything I think is relevant to what I'm doing. Even if it means getting newsprint on my sheets and forgoing plans because Vogue happens to be four pounds that month.

Anyway, the subject has been covered ad nauseaum and I have little more to contribute, but I will continue to watch from afar because I think that this is a significant move that might have some impact on the industry. I do have one question though. In the comment section of the blog, a reader made a reference to the PR people being not "the sharpest knife in the draw." Um, in the draw? Or in the drawer? I always thought it was "in the drawer," but, well, I'm only a publicist.

-- Gawker posted this question on it's site today. Yes. I probably am.

More Random Tuesday Goodness

- Honestly? In 2004, could we ever have imagined that Kevin Federline would turn out to be the better parent?

- At the risk of asking the obvious, what is the point of the "poke" application on Facebook? I'm not being facetious, I honestly just don't get it. Is it a flirting thing? If so, then why am I getting poked by a.) a married girlfriend who never accepted my friend request and b.) some guy I don't know at all but is married with kids? I mean, why don't you just send me an email?

But you know what - don't bother. Like Hilary, I've recently found myself entirely over the whole concept of both Facebook and MySpace. What will I do with my free time now? Maybe converse with people in person, I guess.

- When I lived in NYC, I constantly had to take my shoes in to get re-soled. I took them wherever was most convenient, but I remember friends saying, in passing, "Oh, I have the best shoe guy!" I never really understood what made one shoe guy better than another. All they ever did for me was replace my heels, reinforce the toes, and give my old kickers a nice buff and shine, usually for $15 or less.

Well, today I learned that you can't recognize a good shoe guy until you go to a bad one. I'd put on a pair of wedges I'd just gotten back from the cobbler, and realized, only after I left the house, that they seemed unnaturally high and wobbly. Upon closer inspection, it seems that the new heel tips he put on were about an eighth of an inch higher than the originals. A small amount, sure, but enough to make my foot arch at an uncomfortably high angle. I tripped twice at work alone, and no, I hadn't been drinking. I suppose I could have just been unused to the arch, since my former heels had worn down some; but, if that was the case, the cobbler should have reinforced the toes too, to balance them out. Boo for bad service.

- How is it that three friends can call me in the span of a 10 minute shower, but when I sit alone in traffic for an hour and a half, not a single person in my address book can pick up their god damn cell phone?

- Finally, I'll leave you with a cute picture of me and my mom from this weekend, because, you know, I haven't posted about her at all lately. More photos are here.

Random Tuesday Goodness

I was driving home from work tonight and almost drove off the road when this song came on the radio:

The last time I heard Boom Boom Boom, I was in sixth grade, not exactly keeping up with dance club beats, and don't think I even realized it WAS a song; rather, I just thought it was something dirty the older kids made up for us to chant in class. I couldn't have even known what the lyrics meant, but I have very vivid memories of singing it with my sixth grade clique.

That's kind of like my experience with the song Supersonic. Like Boom Boom, it came out just before my time, and I grew up chanting the chorus, not realizing until very recently that it came from an actual song. Like, from the radio. All I knew was that the S was for Super and the U was for Unique, the P was for Perfection and so on.

Apparently Paul Lekakis has an anniversary remix out now, and I've watched it seven times already on YouTube. I've watched the Supersonic video four.

At least it's getting my mind off the fact that I came home tonight to find a giant wasp's nest hovering above the front door to my apartment. Okay, it's not giant, but it's horrifically scary and not at all welcome. Is this something appropriate to call my landlord about? I hope she thinks so when she gets my voice mail tomorrow morning.

I do have a hunky neighbor I sometimes call on for stuff like this, but he's not home right now, and, anyway, I have a bit of a problem with the whole "damsel in distress" thing. I don't know why - I have plenty of friends who are happy to play that role - but I guess it's the influence of growing up under such a strong mother. Who would be horrified to think of me singing the Boom Boom song in between rounds of Spin the Bottle.

Because of my job, I receive a lot of email newsletters from various spas and skin care companies. I received one today from a company that we work with on occasion, and I got pulled in by their inspirational lead: I was at at dinner party recently in Los Angeles, and a guest there said he felt like he'd just "woken up" after realizing that he'd spent years working so hard for his company that he had truly sacrificed the time for developing a meaningful life. He didn't have a family or a wife... and while he had been successful at so many other things... now he felt remorseful and unfulfilled.

The letter then went on to talk about how we all need to take more time to smell the roses, and something related to spas, etc. but I couldn't quite follow it because I was still stuck on the lead sentence. She sat next to a single, successful, relationship-seeking man at a dinner party in Los Angeles?

What dinners parties is she going to? Now THAT is news I can use.