Whoopsy Daisy

In the past couple weeks I can't tell you how many times I've found myself referencing a string of "accidents" I had in middle school. Where to begin? Can't really remember what happened first but here it goes.

Sixth grade P.E. class in the new gym. That's what we called it because the old gym was well from like the 60s with neck high bleachers and it was well small in comparison with a dirty ass floor. Talk about dirtying up your knee pads that had suddenly turned black. We were playing on two small scale courts. You know where there's four goals on the two sides by the bleachers so you can play two games at once. Anyways, I was running backwards to get back on defense and this girl stopped as I turned to run into her falling to the floor. BOOM my teeth hit head on with the floor and I catch two pieces in my right hand. Breathing hard from running and weirded out because I just caught pieces of my teeth in my hand, all I can feel is cold air hitting my front teeth where it feels like my teeth are enduring Arctic air.

One blurred walk to the infirmary and a call to my parents leads to another call to my dentist who is unavailable. Luckily my dad knows a guy who used to be his dentist and works out of his home. Too bad this is the guy who was the magician that performed at my sister's birthday party a year or so earlier. My mother tells it like the parents that showed up were a bit concerned for their children with his adult commentary but he had doves fly out of a hat. Maybe he'd make my teeth fly back into my mouth good as new. Ironic part about all this was I'd been to my dentist just days earlier and she had brought in another dentist just to brag about how great my teeth looked and how beautiful a smile I had. Thanks a lot for setting up that jinx lady.

Looking in the mirror of my dad's passenger side seat I admire the large gap in my front teeth where my teeth broke diagonally leaving a big triangle shape in their wake. He's worried as I'm sure my mother put him through hell since he was closer from work than her from home and getting me to his dentist to save my roots and thus save me the pain. We arrive and honestly I didn't really feel much pain. It was just a weird feeling to not have complete front teeth. My Dad and I enter Doc's house. That's what my Dad calls him and that's all I've ever known him as. Doc and his eccentric life with his lovely wife. We enter through the living room and down the stairs we go into Doc's lair. I still remember the smell of smoke as he was a big smoker which is really such an appropriate habit of a dentist. I mean it's odd enough when your dentist has yellowing teeth and his breath smells like an ash tray. His dentistry certificates and diplomas line the wall as he sits me in his chair. One thing leads to another and he shoots me up with a couple novacaine shots where I can't feel the entire lower part of my face from the nose down to my neck.

Doc's oversized hands go to work as he breathes heavily in my mouth as I hold back gagging noises. Poor Doc probably never had a clue how horrified I was that afternoon. But in any case I made it out alive. Only I came out with temporary adult size caps until he could get the ones he took a mold for. Talk about the worst yearbook photos ever. That's right it was like having two chiclets for teeth. You know that gum, I mean you can see from the pic above. But let me just segway to reference that having a mother with three brothers and two sisters who were mostly older leads to a mother who loves to tease her children endlessly. So who do you think started the chiclets comments which will never end to this day. I mean we're talking about the years in your life where you're most self conscious and insecure. Hello?! Puberty! Boys! Hormones! Anyways, after the new installation of my chiclets, I got to enjoy a magic show. I mean who doesn't want a magic show with doves appearing out of a hat with a numb face and shock from the trauma of such an eventful afternoon?! I mean I had a whole entire visit to look forward to the next time once the real caps had come in from the molds he'd taken.

Lucky for me, after college I got my fancy porcelain teeth that at least look somewhat natural and aren't as oversized and bucked out as before.

Hmmm what was next. Oh right. Most shit happens in threes right? I mean you have one bad incident and then two follow leading to what you can only hope will be a period of luck after that. This was my seventh grade year in a nutshell.

It began with a visit to my Mom's art class or where she basically helped teach art to elder individuals. My sister and I were riding with her and probably just picking up some of her art works. It was early and I was exhausted from who knows what and what do I do but slam my thumb in the car door. Ouch. Talk about annoying and painful. I think I cried because I was so pissed at what an idiot I was. A week later I'm playing volleyball and for those of you who know the game I was on the back line because I was good at digs. We're playing the middle school of which I knew most of the players because I played softball with them in the summertime. So my friend Courtney is serving and well, softball players are known to have killer serves. She served a floater which curves as it shoots onto our side like a bullet and the eighth grader goes for it with me giving her coverage just as she backs off at the last minute and I go for it half assed and half shocked she didn't go for it. Wow. I look down and my right thumb, the one I slammed in the car door with a black thumbnail is now pushed behind my other four fingers. Rushing me to the school's trainer I sit there looking at my thumb on the other side and out of joint. It was kind of like something out of a bad horror movie. Poor Courtney feels all bad because she knows me and I'm just sitting there shocked, disgusted, and in pain from the jolt and bummed I can't keep playing.

My mom rushes me to the ER at Vanderbilt. We sit there for hours as my thumb, now numb from the pain just chills while we watch people rushing by as I guess there was a bad car accident causing me to sit there longer. Finally we get into a room with none other than Dr. Love. Talk about one hell of a Doctor's name. It was like out of Days of Our Lives or Grey's Anatomy. Oh McDreamy! Seriously he's dreamy! I've seen him in person at LAX! So Dr. Love says he'll put my thumb back in place as it's dislocated and I have the option of a shot to numb me or he can just reset it right there. At this point I'm so numb and just want it to look normal again I opt for resetting as soon as possible. CRACK! Oh that's much better. Then it's time to put my arm in a cast. Good times. Talk about itchy and wow what a smell when that thing finally came off. You all know what I'm talking about if you've ever had the pleasure of enduring a cast.

But rewind, I'm at school with a black cast and matching black thumbnail and decide it's a great idea to play basketball in P.E., again, but this time in the old gym. Smaller courts and small bleachers, remember. We're playing coed and the P.E. coaches don't notice that I should be sitting out and instead I'm playing. I mean what could happen? I'm going up for a lay up and one of the guys is stupid enough to push me and what happens, I bounce into the bleachers and ricochet off like a rag doll. Probably resembled a skit from the Looney Tunes or Robot Chicken. I believe I was knocked out for a few minutes as I remember coming to looking at Coach E, our high school basketball coach who coached me in AAU basketball and was also our P.E. teacher. There must have been blood everywhere because he looked horrified as my peers and friends stand over me gawking and the right side of my face is pounding. Back to the infirmary I go and you can imagine how pleased my parents must have been to receive this call. Luckily the school nurse knows a great plastic surgeon in the area as my parents are both there and take me over themselves. All I really remember from this was being wide awake with classical music playing in the background as my parents sit watching as this Surgeon guy stitches me up with those dissolving stitches that itch and make you want to just rip them out. I mean it was cool for a little while as it looked like I got beat up and I could say I won but in a nutshell it pretty much made that year hell as I couldn't play sports and I wanted to just cut off the right side of my body and start over.

What was the saying from Forrest Gump? SHIT HAPPENS.

Do the Limbo!

Every limbo boy and girl
All around the limbo world
Gonna do the limbo rock
All around the limbo clock
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
All around the limbo clock
Hey, let's do the limbo rock

Limbo lower now
Limbo lower now
How low can you go

First you spread your limbo feet
Then you move to limbo beat
Limbo ankolimboneee,
Bend back like a limbo tree
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
All around the limbo clock
Hey, let's do the limbo rock

la la la etc (instead of instrumental break)

Get yourself a limbo girl
Give that chic a limbo whirl
There's a limbo moon above
You will fall in limbo love
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
All around the limbo clock
Hey, let's do the limbo rock

Don't move that limbo bar
You'll be a limbo star
How low can you go
http://www.weddingvendors.com/music/lyrics/c/chubby-checker/limbo-rock/

How is it that this is so relevant to well life?! I mean I don't know about you but it sucks when you go as low as you can go and you get stuck under the stick and go where no one has gone before, yet. Either you make it through unscathed or you knock the limbo stick down and better luck next time. I guess religious nuts might think this game is blasphemy considering limbo is being stuck between heaven and hell or in some religions actually a division of hell or outer circle. Isn't that why we have ghosts? Where are the Ghostbusters when you need 'em.

Imagine you're life completely up in the air, stuck between a rock and a hard place or just stuck. More simply you're feeling like a nomad with no place to call home whether it's a place, a person, a group of people, work, and/or school. You're probably just thinking, "What? Isn't that what happens when you're homeless?" Um, literally maybe but no. Point is, have you ever felt like all aspects of your life were just stuck or going back and forth without a solution or sense of stability. Of course you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't experienced this well you're just lying to yourself. Maybe you're in the "limbo of admission." What do you do when you're living in limbo?! Don't ask me, I'm just writing this.

Ask your magic 8 ball! It could be any of the 20 answers:
● As I see it, yes
● It is certain
● It is decidedly so
● Most likely
● Outlook good
● Signs point to yes
● Without a doubt
● Yes
● Yes - definitely
● You may rely on it
● Reply hazy, try again
● Ask again later
● Better not tell you now
● Cannot predict now
● Concentrate and ask again
● Don't count on it
● My reply is no
● My sources say no
● Outlook not so good
● Very doubtful
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magic_8-Ball

Scrub a Dub Duds

I'm like the biggest laundry nerd. I like to be able to do laundry when I want and when I need to. I HATE, no I LOATHE doing laundry at laundromats. Maybe it's my days in Texas when my roommates and I would go together and pile our laundry in and we'd sit in these non air conditioned places where you felt like you needed to strip just to clean the clothes on your back it was so humid. Or maybe it's the fact I hate hoarding quarters to save for these epic days.

I've been so lucky to have had a washer and dryer inside my last two apartments. It's like a little piece of bliss. I spill something on myself or get spilled on in a bar, no sweat. Throw it in when you get home or the next morning and no worries. I work out everyday and play softball on clay dirt and I don't want that red dirt to stain or sweat smell to settle, no problem. Not to mention it's free!

But now that I'm moving I'm back to a communal laundry room with my laundry basket and the old school shit to deal with. You know what I'm talking about?! You forget about your laundry and someone impatient or under a time constraint throws your clothes on top of the dirty dryer or washer in a dirty laundry room. I mean, I don't really want some old dude pulling out my underwear and putting it out for all to see and for him to touch. Not exactly something I want to think about. Or the fact that some people have sticky fingers and there goes your favorite shirt. It just took a walk into someone else's closet. Not to mention that some dryers don't work as well because there are too many people using them and they end up breaking or not drying your clothes sucking more money out of you. It's like you have to devote so much time to protect your laundry from strangers and ensure it gets done. And what about the fact that you could have clothes in the dryer and it breaks as soon as you put quarters in. Not only are you SOL but you have to call maintenance and wait days until it gets fixed. I actually heard some dude on my kickball team talk about how he has saved himself so much money by using a paperclip or some other item to make the washer and dryer think he just put a quarter in. Brilliant. Too bad my new place doesn't use quarters. It's a card. These apartment managers get smarter all the time.

But seriously, do you have any idea how much laundry sucks when you don't have your own to use as you please?! It's no wonder people wear the same thing the next day hoping no one notices!

The Little Things

What is it about something so subtle or so minute in the larger scheme of things? Somehow it's the little things in life that make our day or get us through the week. Forget the cheese and the cliches, some things are just meant to make those moments last forever.

Making someone smile or laugh
A kiss that says a thousand words or is just simply a genuine kiss
A hug, and not the patty cake hug, a REAL hug)
A sunset on the beach or with no beach at all
A Full Moon with stars in a clear sky
The Sound of waves crashing against the shore
The warm sun hitting your face when you step outside
A food fight
Music that fills the soul and don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about
A school of dolphins swimming by as you're walking, sitting or running on the beach or a whale sighting
A smile from a stranger
Sharing a laugh with a stranger
An unexpected call, text or email that makes you smile or even laugh out loud
Encouraging words with wisdom or no wisdom
A fortune from a fortune cookie that somehow applies so well
Laughing until it hurts
A green light when you're running late
A meter with minutes still on it
Something free like a cool t-shirt or a break light replaced
Food or drink you have time to sit and enjoy without scarfing it down in a hurry
Paying it forward
Giving someone a gift and watching their ecstatic reaction
Catching a shiver and curling up under the covers
Goosebumps
An ice cold beer on a hot day
Sitting by a camp fire and perhaps roasting marshmallows
The rush of going fast
The first rain drop to hit your head
The tickle in your throat you feel after you take a shot and then it's all warm
A hot drink on a rainy day
Lying in bed on a rainy morning and not having to be anywhere
Finding a piece of clothing or outfit that is just what you were looking for
Getting ready before a theme party or halloween party
When you first step into the shower
Doing something you've never done before


Whether any of these or all of these are your little pieces bliss, just remember it's the little things that can make it all worth it.

Damn, It's the Po Po

Oh Rudy. How you truly made one of my nights in Los Angeles my first year here so memorable. What is the deal with the LAPD? I know one cop could just be trying to warn you that your tail light is out and you should get that checked out. OR they could be some asshole on a power trip.

Let me preface all this with a valuable lesson I learned in the good ol' state of Texas. I was working out of a hotel in Dallas and three of our rental cars were broken into. With the responsibility as liaison with the hotel it was my fantastic job to clean up the mess and deal with the Po Po. So, the hotel manager, a sweet lady, helped me deal with the cop who came to check out the "scene of the crime." Ironically, the questions become interrogative and I become on edge because I'm tired and none of this shit was my fault. I didn't leave a stupid GPS in the rental car knowing full well Dallas has become a high crime area because of the influx of individuals cast out of Louisiana by Katrina and left with nothing. The sweet hotel manager lady approaches me asking if I feel like I'm being interrogated and explains her father is a cop. She explains that a lot of cops take a certain tone with all citizens because they don't know what they're going to deal with as you can only imagine the druggies, murderers, liars, cheaters, etc they encounter. With that she kindly speaks to the cop on my behalf asking him to lighten up and in a immediately he turns into the nicest guy who acts like he cares and wants to help me find the thieves who did this. Amazing right?! We so often forget a lot of these cops have children and are just doing their job.

Now I prefaced this story with my experience in Texas because I don't want to hate the Po Po because I understand the above is true and I want to support our local police for doing their job and taking care of the real bad guys. HOWEVER, that doesn't mean the LAPD doesn't have assholes on a power trip or losers wanting to harass young women in Hollywood because they're bored or want to catch a celebrity doing something to make an example of them. So let's talk about Rudy the ridiculous.

It's a Friday night, I've been out with two girlfriends at a bar and then a house party. I'm DD so I'm taking Sunset Blvd. headed to one of their apartments to drop them off before I head home. Now, yes I've had two beers in a matter of like five hours. As a woman I know full well that two beers can put me over the limit if I'm not careful and don't allow enough time. But clearly, I've allowed enough time and knowing me I probably ate some cake at the house party (a birthday party) which absorbed some of the alcohol. My first mistake was I used my horn. I never use my horn. I'm not a New Yorker, I'm a defensive driver and I don't use my horn unless absolutely necessary. On this night, a car full of guys waits as a group of girls cross the street. But instead of going they remain stopped clearly checking out these guys. So I honked just annoyed with the situation and wanting to drop off my friends who mind you are drunk so I can get home. Two seconds later, the lights go up and siren on and I get pulled over. Nervous about getting pulled over with my friends freaking out next to me and in the back seat we wait. Cop comes up and asks if we've been drinking. I say no and explain I'm just driving my friends home. I don't remember the entire exchange at this moment because I was nervous as hell and probably just trying to hold it together. I remember debating crying on cue but I wasn't by myself and my friends are drunk so it wasn't the best move given the situation. He asks me to step out of my car and instead of giving me a breathalyzer or walk in a straight line he puts me in the back of his cop car. Mind you, he didn't take my license or registration so I'm thinking this guy just wants to scare me. I mean here I am as a short blonde in a little yellow bug full of smiles with my two girlfriends and he opts to put me in the back of his cop car? Hmmm. Yeah interesting. It's my turn to take control you fucking asshole. He starts talking down to me like I'm a child so I come back with some shit about my father being a lawyer and I know my rights which he's welcome to read to me if he wants. Not to mention that despite what he might think based on appearance of my vehicle and my going out attire, I'm incredibly capable of driving my friends home. I didn't even mention the fact that he at no point gave me a valid reason that would hold up as to why he pulled me over in the first place. Needless to say, he changed his tune after my response. He's telling me I'm a good kid and introduces himself as Rudy and lets me out escorting me back to my vehicle urging us to go to Mel's Diner for an hour. Perhaps, I played up the southern girl charm but it worked and no, we did not go to Mel's Diner.

Po Po, I ask you, please stop wasting your time pulling over people for no reason or just to meet your quota. If I break the law speeding, swerving, or running a stop sign or light then yes, pull me over. But, otherwise stop wasting your time with pointless paperwork and our time. We're just as scared of you as you are of us. What was it one cop told me when he pulled me over for a busted tail light, "We're not the bad guys. The bad guys are out there. We're here to protect you." Then protect me! Don't pull me over in an unlit area when I'm clearly by myself as a woman and the streets are desolate because it's 2 am when I'm driving home from work or from a friend's.

Baby, Baby Are You Okay?!

It was the early 90s and I was in middle school P.E. (Physical Education for those of you who call it something else). We were all required to take a first aid class and become certified. The brilliant part about it was we were to endure videos each day that were shot in like the 70s. Imagine watching some dude with a mop top and acting resembling that of Jim Carrey in "The Mask." It's not necessarily a bad thing but it most definitely leads to cruel and unusual ridicule. Needless to say the only useless piece of information I remember from that class was when someone approaches an injured child and says, and I quote, "Baby, baby! Are you okay?" Really. That's what you're teaching us. So from that day forward and still to this day, I use this line or at least let it mull about in my head while I laugh internally.

Despite this silly quote I still don't understand why it's human nature to hover over an injured individual. It's like "Boom" accident happens, and everyone around runs to their aid or just stands there observing and hoping someone will take charge and know what to do. I mean we've been told countless times by educated medical professionals to give an injured individual space and let the one person who knows what to do actually do their job or try to help.

It was just yesterday when I was playing slow pitch softball and our third baseman took a bad hop on a grounder to the forehead. Immediately we all run in to see if she's conscious and okay but after seeing she was lucid no one backed off. It was like let's all stand around this poor girl who's head is blowing up with a baseball size tumor on her forehead from the swelling and she's toughing it out because well, she's awesome. I'm standing there knowing full well if it were me I'd want someone getting me the fuck off the field so I could go cry from the throbbing pain by myself with no one around and to avoid the stares at my protruding egg on my head. So I sat there wanting to take charge but knowing it wasn't my place because I'm like the newbie oddball on the team that no one knows because they're all friends and hang out on the weekends together and they're all couples married or with children.

So next time someone gets injured in your realm, please give them some space if you aren't helping them directly. And in a less threatening situation, feel free to share a little piece of the 70s with someone. "Baby, Baby! Are you okay?!"

You Ain't Nothin' But A Baby Killer

There are two kinds of people on any given day; a "People Watcher" and an "I'm Clearly Oblivious." In this instance, I was the "People Watcher" and my co-worker and boss were the "I'm Clearly Oblivious."

It was a beautiful day in Beverly Hills 90210. I was working on a gig where my boss thought it would be a nice treat to take one of my co-workers and I out to lunch in the fashionable neighborhood. As my boss takes his long chest out strides down the sidewalk with my co-worker using his short legs to quickly speed walk aside him as they discuss something work related that clearly doesn't involve me, I attempt to keep up as pedestrians cut me off and I end up walking behind them and then speeding up my short strides so I can be back alongside them as they proceed back to the office. At a pedestrian crossing where we wait for the streetlight to turn and the little white light to beam with the asexual figure, I look to my left to see a woman in Juicy Couture and lots of bling holding what upon first glance looks like a small dog. Obviously an easy conclusion as all Beverly Hills women appear to have a small dog on their arm thinking they're a celebrity, perhaps being one themselves though a D lister, or perhaps parading around as the wife or girlfriend of one. In any case, I look again not completely convinced the animal is a small dog. To my astonishment it's a FREAKIN' GUINEA PIG!

Unable to take my eyes away from this horrific sight and wondering why the hell a woman in Beverly Hills would be carrying a pet guinea pig around, I look around to see if anyone else has noticed. It's as if no one even batted an eye. I mean I've seen the pet goats and pet pigs in Hollywood but never in Beverly Hills. I have no one to share this ungodly sight with and laugh about the ridiculousness of it all. It's like having your mouth sewn together like the zombie in the Halloween flick "Hocus Pocus." I mean it's a guinea pig. These are the horrendous animals that EAT THEIR OWN BABIES. What are they Irish? (No disrespect. Hell, I'm part Irish. Just a little ode to Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal." http://art-bin.com/art/omodest.html)

I'll never forget how my friend had one when we were like ten years old and the mother had eaten one of the babies between the times I slept over and I thought I was gonna lose my shit. These animals are vile. What purpose do they serve except to eat, shit and multiply. They are purely for lower school classrooms with show and tell. Remind me to keep my future children out of those classrooms. Why put them through that kind of trauma or put yourself through the trouble of explaining what happened to the little future baby killer.

Needless to say, Guinea Pig, yeah I'm talking to you, "You Ain't Nothin' But A Baby Killer."

Hugs XX

Leave it to the Urban Dictionary http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Hug to truly define a HUG.
Hug: "A way of making someone feel all warm and fuzzy inside without being weird about it."

We all have signed an email with xx or xoxo as it's become the international trend over the internet to show you care. Now whether you really would go through with the kisses will be left unknown but we're not discussing kisses. So a hug is something that makes you feel warm and fuzzy but it's not WEIRD. Let's keep this in mind. For all of you huggers out there, stop making it weird.

Let's begin. Vince Vaughn, says it all in one long winded explanation to his associate at work as character Jeremy Grey in the film "Wedding Crashers." This is the most brilliant quote ever so listen up.

Jeremy Grey: [sigh] Janice, I apologize to you if I don't seem real eager to jump into a forced awkward intimate situation that people like to call dating. I don't like the feeling. You're sitting there, you're wondering do I have food on my face, am I eating, am I talking too much, are they talking enough, am I interested I'm not really interested, should I play like I'm interested but I'm not that interested but I think she might be interested but do I want to be interested but now she's not interested? So all of the sudden I'm getting, I'm starting to get interested... And when am I supposed to kiss her? Do I have to wait for the door cause then it's awkward, it's like well goodnight. Do you do like that ass-out hug? Where you like, you hug each other like this and your ass sticks out cause you're trying not to get too close or do you just go right in and kiss them on the lips or don't kiss them at all? It's very difficult trying to read the situation. And all the while you're just really wondering are we gonna get hopped up enough to make some bad decisions? Perhaps play a little game called "just the tip". Just for a second, just to see how it feels. Or, ouch, ouch you're on my hair.

I think I lost five pounds when I heard this the first time I laughed so hard. Maybe you all have experienced this or maybe you remain unscathed. Point is we've all experienced an awkward hug. The most amazing part about a hug is there are so many different variations. Let's see if we can list them all. Feel free to comment adding more and I'll plug 'em in.

Bear Hug: Big man or woman embraces you and keeps you in tight but you kind of like it because it feels nice and comforting.

Ass out Hug: Exactly what my buddy Vince is talking about. The "not sure if we can get that close" hug.

Patty Cake Hug: This is what I referenced in my last post about my cousin. He's totally a pro. It's a half ass out hug with a pat on the other person's back with both hands. Since my cousin is family it's not awkward it's just weird. I mean, we're related and you're married! Get over your fear for hugging women who aren't your mother or wife and just hug it out already. I never liked Patty Cake. Now the wheels on the bus, that was a good'un.

Chest Bump Hug: This is what guys usually do when they're playing sports where they jump up and bump chests and yell, "Uh!" This is not quite like that but similar with the chest out bump and quick embrace with just as quick of a release. Women don't usually partake in this as our breasts are precious and that shit hurts. I'd kind of like to leave my options open in case one day I want to breast feed my imaginary children.

A Giant Squeeze: Imagine squeezing an orange to make orange juice and you don't just get all the juice out once since it takes a couple of tries. You are the orange and they are the ones squeezing the juice outta you. Not just once, but twice and maybe three times because "It's, oh, just so good to see you!" Maybe it's been too long or maybe they're love deprived. In any case this shit could lead to suffocation. I got a squeeze from a woman with the most overpowering perfume and all I have to say is that was the end of one of my nine lives.

A Nuzzle Hug: This is one of those cutesy hugs you get from either someone you love or care about who likes to play. They curl up in your neck underneath your jaw. Usually occurs between two lovers or a parent and child.

The It Ain't Over Yet Hug: This is similar to the bear hug only it's not comforting. It's usually with someone who hugs way longer than you do. You've already released thinking you're giving them the cue it's over only they're not done. So you go back to embracing them only you're waiting for them to send the cue. This can happen with your best friends or your family members.

Political Hug: This is what the typical male politician hug where the two men shake hands and use their other hand to grab onto the other's arm and look into the camera or at the crowd smiling. Or this ends up where the two after the shake go in for a solid pat on the other's back and go through the motions of a hug but still keep that professional spacial distance between them using their shaking hands. It just looks uncomfortable.

What Are you Thinking Hug: This is where it would be awesome to have cameras on opposite side of the two people embracing because this could be the perfect hug and both parties could be into it BUT one closes their eyes while the other rolls their eyes. Or perhaps one looks like they might cry while the other is clearly thinking about something else.

Peck me Hug: This is where a girl may stand on her tip toes to get closer to a guy's face so she can give him a little peck in the middle of the hug or allow him to do so. OR it's the hug where the guy gives the girl a kiss on the head or forehead. This can be between a father and child as well.

Group Hug: Typically one big clusterfuck but it is a fun one if you do it properly. Just watch your head because some people get a little rowdy with this one, especially with intoxication involved.

Well, there you have it. Next time you go in for a hug or receive one, think about whether you're the one contributing to the awkwardness or if you're giving in to the warm embrace of a fantastic hug.

“We need 4 hugs a day for survival. We need 8 hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth.” - Virginia Satir

A Cup of Massage

While sipping my soy vanilla latte with an extra shot, it was a late night, and waiting for a friend to show despite the likelihood of her having overslept, I find a seat on the outdoor patio of a busy coffee shop in the valley. Now this is not just any coffee shop. We're not talking the overexposed, heavily marketed chains like Starbucks or even Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. This is Priscilla's in Burbank. Go here if you don't believe me it actually exists. http://www.priscillascoffee.com As I sip away I pull out my computer to pound on the keys and try and get some "work" done. A couple of old men who are clearly regulars sit to the table next to mine. Of course I'm half listening and wondering if they come here every morning for a nice cup of coffee and to discuss their issues. Suddenly an old beat up white van pulls up on the corner and a woman driver yells through the passenger window at one of the men like she knows him. The men look at each other inquisitively. The woman drives off and the old men comment on how some crazy lady is mad at somebody but it ain't one of them. Mistaken identity or shameful lie?

I get back to pounding away at my keyboard and trying to get a hold of my sleeping friend on my little keyboard. Then up walks a lady with a large black rolling duffle bag. She asks me to borrow a chair, she lays down the bag between the old men and I. One of the old men turns around to greet the woman and another stands to give her a big hug. She then appears next to me asking if she can move my table and myself over a bit. Being the courteous patron that I strive to be, I moved over. Then as she opens her bag she starts pulling out some sort of contraption. Now I'm hooked. I can't take my eyes away. It's like there's porn on the television. The woman sets up this seat and then it hits me. Wait a minute, she has scrubs on and this comfortable looking contraption. Upon the reclined forward seat the woman sits down and leans forward placing her face in the padded holder. She's a freaking masseuse. Since when are there masseuses that show up at coffee shops? Is this the new trend? I thought that was only at big studio seminars like that one they did at Sony and required all employees to attend. "Let's try to save the environment and to reward your attempts you get a free massage with leave of absence from work." Lucky bastards.

I get back to work clearly trying to not get distracted by a masseuse only a couple feet from me. Of course she has to set up directly next to me out of all the areas on the patio. One of the old men says goodbye to his friends and gets up to bid farewell to the masseuse. Instead of a hug it's this big awkward "bash brothers" forearm five with a peck on the cheek. Definitely the first time I've seen that one. Why not just a nice awkward hug with the pat on the back for good measure? My older cousin is a pro at this. It's like I go home for the holidays and my mother and I joke about whose going get the pat hug first. I mean are you supposed to match the pat or go in for a real bear hug and make the other person feel really awkward. I'll save this for another post about affection.

After this awkward exchange, a woman sits down for a massage. Now I've had a massage at several spa centers and by a college friend of mine in training. But nothing quite compares to what I bore witness to. She ran her fingers up and down the woman's back with outstretched arms like she was a mentally challenged ballerina. But her face is what was so unforgettable. Closed eyes, her head slowly bobbing back and forth, and I mean she was really getting into it. I know I'm weird but wow. Only in Los Angeles.

Valley Girl

"Valley Girl (or Val, Val Gal) is a term originally referring to affluent upper-middle class girls living in the bedroom community neighborhoods of San Fernando Valley[1]." Thanks Wikipedia! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valley_girl

Why is there such a negative connotation with "The Valley" in Los Angeles? I moved here having that judgmental attitude towards the valley. Is it because it's ten degrees hotter in the valley than everywhere else? Or the assumption there's no "scene" in the valley? Really though, I think it's because of pop culture references.

Let's take "Clueless" for instance. In an exchange between Cher and her father...
Mel: Where are you?
Cher: I'm just having a snack at my girlfriend's.
Mel: Where, in Kuwait?
Cher: Is that in the valley?

Now this exchange makes you think the valley is "like so far" from civilization. Not to mention the other references Cher makes when they go to a party in the valley and Elton leaves her deserted in the "middle of nowhere." Then look at the new "Melrose Place" on the CW. Ella, Katie Cassidy, comments, "If I hadn't learned that, I'd still be commuting to Beverly Hills from Van Nuys in a hatchback." In other words, if she hadn't learned to go after what she wants she wouldn't be living on Melrose in Hollywood and she'd still be living in Van Nuys, in the valley.

Despite pop culture references there's gotta be more to it than this right? I mean I read the books about twins Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield at "Sweet Valley High." I've also met a lot of cool people working in the Los Angeles area who grew up in the valley and liked it. Not to mention at this point having lived in LA for a while, there's a lot of places in the valley I know of and visit especially when I'm working there at one of the studios.

So why am I bringing this all up? Because this girl is moving to the valley. I will soon be a "Valley Girl" living in Burbank and commuting to the studios and to Hollywood. Not to mention trying to get away from the heat and escaping back to Redondo Beach where I will be leaving very soon. I think I've had countless people ask, "Why would you move from the beach to the valley?" Great question. No excellent question. But unfortunately I have a lame answer. Save money on a cheaper place, commute a much shorter distance to work, and live closer to most of my friends. And who says I won't be visiting my friends in Redondo on the weekends, and especially in the summer. Gotta get away from the heat somehow!

All I ask is if I totally start using any "Valspeak" like seriously slap me silly. Don't wanna be a Joanie. As if. Well, I'm outtie!

The Crusty Fork

Imagine when you sit down at a restaurant and the complimentary bread or first appetizer comes out. You pull the cloth napkin wrapped professionally around the silverware and place it in your lap. Just as you're about to put the silverware back down on the table you realize there is no napkin to place the silverware on. Your table was wiped down, yes, but probably by the already used and dirty rag the bus boy used on the last table with his or her hands that have more than likely not been washed or sanitized since the last wipe down. So you panic internally thinking you're going to surely catch the swine flu or H1N1 virus just because you didn't properly protect your silverware prior to your meal. But then you either think to ask the waiter or waitress for some extra napkins because you'll probably need them anyway to clean up the splatter from the ketchup, sauce or dropped food on the table. If you're feeling generous. Then again you may get over it thinking that you transport enough germs yourself just opening the door to enter the restaurant or from the restroom door you exited just prior to sitting back down before your meal arrives. (Take it from the pro who uses the restroom more times in one day than most normal individuals and who can probably tell you where all the restrooms are in every location she's been to before. It's a sad existence but at least it caters to my need to wash my hands frequently. No I'm not OCD.) After you've solved this little internal issue you notice there's something crusted over in between two prongs on your fork. You examine it closely. You ponder whether to just pick it off with your napkin or one of the paper napkins the waitress brought because, duh, it's disposable. Or you think to ask the waiter or waitress for a replacement. HOWEVER, this is when you remember that film you watched called "Waiting" with hottie comedic actor Ryan Reynolds (Scarlett Johansson, you bitch for stealing him off the market) and Anna Farris (I want to be her). Not only do most of us know the stories of restaurants spitting in food or doing heinous things behind your back as you wait for your meal, but we all know that the last thing you want to do is piss off your waiter or waitress. It's the domino effect. Word gets around and next thing you know you could end up like Kyle in "Road Trip" and eat something without ever knowing what really happened during the preparation. Anyways, back to the crusty fork. You search your surroundings and you find a small child. Jackpot. Blame it on the kid. The waiter or waitress will likely feel bad for the little girl or guy and have some compassion. Or they'll just spread the word there's a kid in their zone and then the blame's on them not you. New fork in hand and an enjoyable meal fret free. SO next time you sit down at a restaurant opt for the booth or table near a small child. You may endure some screaming, crying, or table banging but at least your silverware is safe. Hmmm, is this a Larry David moment minus the outward yelling and pissing someone off? Perhaps.

(Note: If anyone reading this really has this many issues or internal monologues like I do, I suggest you either drink during your meal so you get over it or go see a psychiatrist.)

Best Snack Ever with Wine

Ever invited your friends over for wine and wrestled over what kind of snacks to serve? Or maybe you just want to kick back with some wine and cheese for the evening but you feel like it just isn't enough? If you like avocado then you MUST try this snack recipe to pair with any wine. It's better with a red but it's still phenomenal with white. I got this from Reustle, a vineyard outside Portland, Oregon in the Prayer Rock Vineyards. They have a great vineyard and wine membership. Check it out if you so wish... wine@reustlevineyards.com. What's so great about this recipe? It's quick, easy, tastes delicious, and it'll make a wine's finish really pop. Plus you'll impress your guests!

AVOCADO CROSTINI

Ingredients:
1 loaf of Artisan bread (I prefer french bread because I'm on a tight budget)
Olive Oil (I don't even use this because you don't necessarily need it)
1 Package of Chevre at room temperature or microwave for 10 seconds to soften (This is goat cheese for those of you who are not cheese connoisseurs or don't look past the Kraft branded items. BUT brie or another french spreadable cheese works just as well if you don't like goat cheese.)
Ripe Avocados
Sea Salt and Fresh Ground Pepper

Instructions:
1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees
2) Cover both sides of bread with olive oil or leave dry and bake until crispy
3) Let the toasted bread cool and spread a thin layer of cheese on top
4) Top with thinly sliced avocado
5) Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt and/or ground pepper

VOILA! Pour yourself a glass of wine and enjoy!

A little taste of the area

A friend told me the other day she wished she could just put me in her pocket to help recommend places she could take her visiting friends or family to since she hasn't been in Los Angeles long enough to know where to go. Despite my feeling quite out of the loop in the muck of Hollywood's social life, I guess I still know some cool places to go. So here is just a little taste of Los Angeles and its finest from this JJ's perspective.

BEST SUSHI: Izakaya by Katsuya. Why you ask? One, the spicy tuna on crispy rice is to die for and I loathe jalapenos like I loathe freezing rain. Two, because it's a friendlier atmosphere with good service where you don't feel like you're dining with Michael Bay's agent and wishing you had opted for take out.

BEST SUSHI HAPPY HOUR: RA in Del Amo Fashion Center. This may sound crazy and I'm sure there's several other great sushi happy hours but this place has a killer saketini. Try substituting plum wine for the vodka and really charge those taste buds. Not to mention their happy hour is 7 days a week. That's right 7 days and there's an 80s night on Thursdays with board games. Battleship people! Seriously break out of your X Box cocoon and enjoy the good ol' days of board gaming.

MEXICAN FOOD: This is one of those topics that's well, way too difficult for someone who actually lived in Texas for four years and enjoyed both authentic Mexican and Tex Mex. TOTALLY different from California Mexican. However, Casa Vega in Sherman Oaks has come the closest that I've tasted to the best cadillac margarita and fresh tasting lobster quesadillas. I mean nothing is better than a Blue Cactus Margarita in San Antonio, Texas but we'll just ignore that factor for now and go with Casa Vega as the best Mexican restaurant. I still like Chevy's in Burbank because it's cheap cheap and the breakfast burritos from the catering truck on film/television sets. But we won't go there.

MARTINI: Toss up for me here. Greatest special ever with two for one martinis, extra dirty with gin would be my preference, at HT Grill in Redondo Beach. This place is an upscale restaurant with outdoor patio featuring a fire pit and heat lamps. Otherwise, the martini at Lola's in West Hollywood is pretty fantastic and there are pool tables or dining to enjoy. Who doesn't love sipping a martini while shooting pool?!

BEER AND TONIC WATER: This may sound strange but the tonic water at Father's Office in Culver City is not just imported, it's actually the best tasting thing you've ever had by itself. It tastes like Sprite without that sugar after taste. Then imagine mixing this heavenly mixer in a little glass bottle with vodka, and not just some well vodka. Of course their wall of beer tap selections is incredibly extensive with one of the best burgers in LA and sweet potato fries. Now of course everyone says sweet potato fries are delicious but what they don't know about this place is that they serve them in little grocery carts that sit on your table inside or outside on the heated patio.

BEER AND FOOTBALL: Backstage in Culver City and Big Wang's in Hollywood. Now, I haven't been to the Big Wang's in NoHo, which I'm sure is just as great as the one in Hollywood but I can't say because I've never visited the fine establishment. Backstage has great bar food, good bartenders, pool tables, karaoke, and a big fat screen TV so everyone can cheer their team on and still enjoy other games on the other TVs. However, Big Wang's is definitely a better place for several large fan bases to enjoy several games and not get into a fight, or maybe not but can't say that I've heard of fights breaking out there.

BEST MOJITO: Several places must bare mention here. Lazy Dog in Redondo Beach at Del Amo Fashion Center because they have a Pomegranate Mojito that is out of this world and you can sit on their patio with a fire pit and heat lamps feeling the beach air blow through your hair. World Cafe in Venice on Main Street has a Mojito bar dedicated solely to mojito concocting. Of course this can lead to the resemblance of a cafeteria line and the result of an uncared for mojito and thus bad experience so don't say you weren't warned. Otherwise, The Standard on Sunset in Hollywood, their diner has a great mojito. Lastly, I've heard but not tasted the mojito at Paradise Cove Cafe in Malibu as yet again they have their own mojito bar and being as it may that this is a tourist spot, I'm sure they take more pride in their mojito creations.

BEST HAPPY HOUR: There are a number of places with decent happy hours but there is still one that just kills it. Cabo Cantina in Brentwood on Wilshire Blvd, the one on Washington in Venice, and the one on Sunset in Hollywood. All three have their own character native to the area and all have the best two for one deal seven days a week. I would recommend double checking your specific location as this could have changed.

BEST MACROBIOTIC FOOD AND YOU MAY NOT EVEN NOTICE: M Cafe de Chaya has amazing salmon, sushi, salads, and numerous other cuisines. This place is for the uber healthy and those just wanting to be. Imagine feeling good after you eat and knowing you ate in European style. I know meat eaters, it's like committing suicide but just try it once. You may actually feel lighter after rather than like you're carrying a food baby.

BEST SNACK: Yogurtland, Pinkberry, Mango Dolci, etc, etc. All these places have their own fantastic snack treat that make ice cream a faint memory. Whether it's tart, strawberry, cheesecake, or chocolate with fruity pebbles or mochi or whichever topping you choose from the outlandish list of choices, these treats despite their hidden sugars or calories taste refreshing and amazing. It's a party in your mouth! And it doesn't just taste like yogurt!

BEST WINE BAR: Two places come to mind. Bodega Wine Bar on Broadway in Santa Monica and Salute Wine Bar on Main Street in Santa Monica. Bodega has several great tapas but not much of a wine selection. However it's priced average and often sports a DJ to set the mood and serves as a decent after work bar for the wine drinkers. Salute, however, has the wine selection and the tapas. Not to mention they have the cool machines where you can put your card in and wine taste. Neat-o! I'd recommend Salute for any one of you looking for a spot on that first date or blind date.

I'm sure I'll come up with more to add but that's all for now.