A Gentleman vs. The Prick

You head to your friend's house party. Before you make it you have to stop at the grocer to pick up some "Adult Soda" or some ice or maybe some snacks per your friend's request. In any case, you make your purchases and load your car up heading off to your friend's. You contemplate calling your friend for help from your car because you bought the twenty pound bag of ice that was cheaper than buying several smaller bags and you opted for the 36 pack rather than the 24 pack of beer because it too was cheaper or on sale rather. But instead you decide you're a strong woman and you can carry it all by yourself. It's not that far. As you make it to their door you're like oh wow I may drop this. The ice is busted open at the top from when you almost dropped it or maybe when you pulled it from your car. Your fingers are aching because the cardboard from the beer box or the grocery bag handles are digging into your skin by your wrist. You're thinking, "That's gonna leave a mark." But despite that factor you're at their door knocking. You hear the routine "Come in." Of course you're thinking, "Hey assholes I can't open the door with my hands full but fine I'll figure it out. You open the door and everyone either just stares at you as you waddle in hoping you don't drop everything right there as you're perspiring and wishing someone would come help you and take away some of the items in your hands. Instead, one of your friends just says hey and you hurry over to a wall to drop the items. Now there's a brief moment there where a true gentleman or gentle woman would come try to help you and at least offer or hold the door or something. A prick of any kind will just watch you suffer or try to see who's at the door and literally walk away from you.

You're not alone. This happens all the time in LA. It's like guys here left their manners back east or in the south or maybe they never learned. I mean WTF?! Help a girl out. Maybe it's time everyone got a reality check and remembered that something as simple as holding a door open for the next person behind you or just paying forward an act of kindness is worth the smile and thank you you get back. What have you done for a stranger lately?

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?!"