New Year's Resolution FAIL

"Oh hi.  Hope you had a good holiday!"  is what I find myself saying to everyone lately.  And now I'm saying it to you.

Well.  Here we are, friends.  The end of yet another year.  Of course, it never feels like much of a milestone to me.  I don't think I measure my life in days, months and years.  So I don't know if this year was a good one, but I know that things lately feel pretty darn great.

Still, there is something to be said for giving yourself a moment to reflect on the events of your life.  And for the plans that you've made, the plans that you've stuck to and the plans that evaporated into thin air while you were watching The Hills.  

Last year I made a hearty list of resolutions and, in an attempt to hold myself accountable, I published that list on my blog.  

Let's see how I did:

1. No more starbucks mochas. 

I had one today!  And one last week!  And the peppermint ones are only available during the holiday season so it's only logical that I need to drink as many as possible.  

2. Drink only 1-2 glasses of wine per night.

Actually, I did manage to achieve this.  And some nights I don't even have any!  I don't know if this is because of any real effort on my part or because I'm getting old and I can't overindulge like I used to.  

3. Stop interrupting people when they talk just because I think I have something so witty to say that it simply cannot wait.

I'm a little embarrassed to say that I have not made any improvement in this area.  

4. Stop writing blog while at work. It's not professional.

Yes!  Mainly because my job got so busy that I no longer have time.  But I'm counting it anyway! 

5. Only have cheese in one meal per day.

To be honest, I forgot about this resolution entirely. 

6. Quit acting like "party cigarettes" means something and just stop smoking altogether.

Okay, well, I haven't exactly quit quit.  But I'm capable of going weeks at a time without a cigarette, so that's gotta mean I'm not a hopeless case.

7. Stop telling my coworkers stories about my cats, it makes me look super lame.

I think I've gotten worse.  I now also email them pictures of cute cats I find online.  And tell them stories about my dog.  And about my dog and cats interacting together.  

8. Join gym.

Done!

9. Go to gym.

Eh...

10. Read a biography of Oscar Wilde.

I haven't...yet.  But I do have tickets to see The Importance Of Being Earnest.  

11. Read James Joyce's "Ulysses" so that I can tell people I'm reading it.

I don't even know why I said this in the first place.  Like, really.  I can't remember what this was about.  

12. Learn how to play poker.

Nope.  But I did learn that it's fun to hang out with your girlfriends on a weekly basis and call it "poker night."

13. Make jazz the new thing that I'm into.

I think this was a joke.  I always say I want to get into jazz because I want that interest the same way that I want to become someone who knows a lot about yoga and exotic herbal teas.  It's an insincere desire to be someone I'm not and probably never will be. 

14. Get car washed more than twice.

I believe I've washed my car three times this year.  So...yay for baby steps.

15. When complimented on clothing, don't say "Oh, it's just from Target."

I rarely get compliments on my outfits any more, so this problem solved itself.

I admit, this doesn't look like a big heap of success.  But, I'm okay with that.  Because I've never been the sort of person to stick to her resolutions.  So, at the very least, in 2008 I stayed true to myself.  

It's Frickin Freezing

I don't know if there's a strong Siberian wind flying over the Pacific or something, but it is so cold in California that people are fa-reaking out. It's been getting down to the 30s an 40s at night, which doesn't sound cold to some of you, but trust me, it's bad news.

And it was all so sudden! Last week I was prancing about town in a light sweater, and now I'm cozying up to my space heater, wrapped in blankets, wearing every sweatshirt I own, and wondering if my living room window has always been so drafty.

The only plus side to this nippy weather is that it arrived just in time for Christmas.

And speaking of Christmas (and pathetic segues)...

My neighbors, whose peculiar Halloween decorations were the subject of this post, are now crapping all over Christmas. Only a few houses got into the holiday spirit by decorating, and of those houses, only a handful elected to hang up the traditional string of colored lights. Instead, my neighbors seem to lean toward decorations of the giant inflatable variety.

Exhibit A:



Behemoth creatures like these are taking over my neighborhood. Or, at least, they were until it rained. Apparently they don't do so well when wet. Look at this poor guy:



Making the whole soggy mess even worse is the notable absence of snow. I imagine that even a light coating of snow would probably forgive the aesthetics of even the saddest displays.

This is a notion I clearly share with my neighbors with the face-down Santa shown above. See how they added some snow to their display?



Fixes everything right up. I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...

Now, you may remember from my Halloween decorations post, a certain house that went a little "out there" with their display.

You know...this one:





Thankfully there are no corpses or nightmare-inducing bunnies in their Christmas display. In fact, they've really cleaned up their act. It's still a little peculiar, but variety is the spice of life.

Ta-da! :



Yes, that red puddle in the front is yet another deflated Santa. It's like a massacre on this street.

In the background, you'll see a big screen TV and 2 Adirondack chairs (a repeat from their Halloween setup). I didn't know what this was all about until last night when I drove by and noticed they were playing a Christmas movie. Neat, huh? It's like having a Sears home electronics show room in their front yard.

Forgive this next picture (dern sunshine! always screwing things up!), I had Seamus on the leash and at the time of this picture he was showing off his dance moves for a snarling boxer across the street.



They are rejoicing penguins! Good morning, sunshine! Christmas is here! Wheee!

Or maybe they are just celebrating the demise of the inflatable Frosty the Snowman in the center of their circle.

Well, you know what they say, "You can't un-evil a penguin!" But they've come a long way from their gun-toting, pimping days.



It's a Christmas miracle.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Days Later

Well my mouth is healing nicely. This experience hasn't been nearly the disaster I'd anticipated. I was expecting to get the dreaded "dry socket" that everyone kept telling me about. People kept warning me "Don't get dry socket! It's the most painful thing EVER." To which I would just nod slowly and resist the urge to punch them in the face. I mean, really, it's rude to make someone petrified about a condition that's not entirely preventable.

Anyway, I think (I hope) I am in the clear now and will be all healed up in the next week or so.

I have to say I enjoyed my weekend of resting and recovering. Recent oral surgery is the perfect excuse to watch television for three days straight without showering, speaking to anyone, or picking up after oneself.

Also, I think I may go down as the only woman in history who actually gained weight after getting her wisdom teeth out. Yesterday at Koo Koo Roo I requested EXTRA gravy with my PINT of mashed potatoes.

The downside to all this is that I haven't been able to get any Christmas shopping done and my parents get into town TOMORROW.

Time to bring this sloth-fest to an end.

I might still be a little sedated...wheeeee

This morning I has my wisdom teeth out. All 4 of them.

Most everyone I know has had them out by now. They got it done when they were 20 and didn't have to take time off work and could have their parents pay for it.

The thing is, that when everyone else's wisdom teeth were growing in and being pulled out, and I'd hear horror stories and terms like "impacted" and "had to break my jaw,"  I was waiting for my teeth to show up.

Little did I know, my teeth were just slowly, surely growing in like normal teeth. I didn't even know I had them until 2 years ago when I was at the dentist and he asked if I had a plan of attack for my wisdom teeth. "Uh, let's cross that bridge when we come to it," I scoffed.
"Well, no, I mean you have all four of them right here."
"I do?"
He handed me the little circular dentist mirror to point them out.
"That's what those are? They're wisdom teeth? I thought they were teeth teeth."

So I thought I'd lucked out. No sideways-growing, infected, disastrous wisdom teeth for me. Tooth Win!

But then, like all things in my life, everything went wrong. And the teeth all started to rot out of my skull. And my dentist suggested that maybe I should just pull them out since they all needed major work and were going to continue to need lots of care for the rest of my life.

And so here we are. For weeks I've listened to everyone else's stories about their wisdom teeth. My anxiety grew and grew. I was certain that I was going to die during the procedure. A tooth would come loose from the pliers and launch into my brain...somehow.

But then all of my nervousness went away the second they brought out the laughing gas. And they brought it out rather quickly, to my surprise.  It was like, "Here, sit down. And...now breathe this." Before I even had my IV or was hooked up to blood pressure monitors. Before the oral surgeon was in the room.

And I looooved it. I could hear two nurses speaking in spanish outside my room. But their words were soooo sloooow. And then I looked over and saw the monitor with my blood pressure and I watched the number drop from 90 to 85, 75, 70, 69, 68, 67... Wait should it stop dropping at some point? Oh well I don't care.

I was actually genuinely disappointed when the oral surgeon was hooking up my IV and I knew I'd be asleep in a minute and my awesome high would be over.   

Now I'm home, watching TV and wondering if anything I type makes sense. Today I learned that it's worth having 4 teeth ripped out of your head for 5 minutes of laughing gas and a day off work.

Have a great weekend.

I don't care what your mama says...

Christmas time is neeeear!

Getting in the Christmas spirit these days. The office holiday party is tonight, which means the rare offering of unlimited free booze and food. It also means I'm going to get really anxious because one can only consume so much of these things before looking like an ass in front of one's boss and his important clients. So.

While I'm still feeling jolly I wanted to share my favorite Christmas song with you. It's from SNL a few years ago.

Click here to watch.

I particularly like Tracy Morgan's dance moves.

Happy Anniversary

...to Hollywood Sucker!

It's been a year since I started this blog. And I can't tell if that year has flown by or dragged on slowly, if I've accomplished a lot or nothing at all, if I've said too much or said too little. But one thing's for sure: I still don't know where I'm going with this.

But it's been fun. And I've met so many blogger friends. I wish you all lived near me so we could actually hang out! And I've enjoyed getting my thoughts out of my head and onto the internets where friends and strangers alike can read them.

So in honor of this special occasion, here is a link to my first post ever.

Thanks to everyone who reads this.

xo
b

On Dead Bodies and General Slobbery

Last night, for some reason, I watched the local news at 11. Let me tell you these news stories were real gems.

Most notably, there was a piece that took place in North Hollywood, where I live, but thankfully not right in my immediate neighborhood.

It all started with a house that had always been a little ill-kept, but over the past year had gotten completely out of hand. The lawn was all weeds and dirt. There was garbage heaped around the property, rotting in the hot sun and attracting vermin and stray cats. The whole place reeked and a neighbor finally got fed up and called the police.

When the cops got there, they found a shriveled up corpse sitting in one of the living room chairs.

The inhabitants of this house were a man and his mother. And the mother had apparently died a year ago and the son just never really did anything about it.

A reporter interviewed a coworker of this man, who said that he seemed pretty normal, if a little gross and smelly.

I know. Who leaves a dead body in his living room for a year?

But if you think about it, after a few weeks I'd imagine it doesn't stink that much. And by a few months, it's probably hard as a rock. And then, it's very likely she just got buried in old soda cans and KFC buckets and he forgot she was even there.

It may seem like I'm defending this poor slob, but I'm not. Well, not exactly. It's just that right before I watched the news, Devin stepped out to take Seamus for a walk and as he grabbed his leash off the ledge by the door he said "Hey, this cat puke's still here."

See, the cat threw up over the weekend and Devin discovered it. And I was supposed to clean it up when he was out with the dog...but I didn't. And then I forgot about it.

And then the puke dried up and became less noticeable and got covered in junk mail and stuff.

But last night when I got home from work, I noticed it again. "Oh yeah...that..." I said to myself. Only, I still didn't clean it up. I just carried on with my life and made dinner and watched The Cosby Show.

And when Devin later reminded me about it, I still didn't clean it up and carried on watching the news.

But it's a good thing I did watch the news, because after realizing that I had so much in common with the unnamed slob on TV, I immediately got up and cleaned the crusted cat vom.


UPDATE: Thanks to reader Raych for providing me the link to this news story. Check it.

Gobble gobble

For the fifth Thanksgiving in a row, I've managed to be too drunk to appreciate my dinner.

Indeed, since I moved to Los Angeles and began celebrating with my friends instead of my family, this holiday's become more about the morning-to-afternoon-to-evening drinking. Bloody marys and mimosas in the morning. Beer and wine in the afternoon. And then by the evening someone gets the terrible idea to break open the whiskey and have a few shots.

This year about 25 of us gathered at the house my friend Ryan is house sitting (don't worry, the owners of the property are aware of, and in fact encourage, our parties there). The weather was great and I spent the day sipping wine, snacking on things, and being cute and sweet to Devin (much to his surprise).

Occasionally I wandered into the kitchen, where two of my friends had been cooking tirelessly. I felt bad about it and offered to help, and usually they'd request I go outside to fetch them more drinks. As it got closer to dinner time (which could have been 3 or 5:40 or 9:15...I have no clue), I made the big dish of sweet potatoes. This and dinner rolls were my assigned foods. Things went well until I had to take the pan out of the oven, at which point the thin, disposable metal pan sort of buckled in the middle and a wave of sweet potato juice rushed over the side, spread over the open oven door, and then fell onto the floor and my feet. I shrieked and then stood there uselessly until someone rushed to my aid. To my surprise, my feet weren't burnt, just sticky. It only took a minute to clean up, but I think the hassle I caused was enough to keep me out of the kitchen for the rest of the day.

All in all it was a great party and I loved spending time with all of my friends. Here are a few pictures, courtesy of Barry, our resident photographer.

This is Barry:



Yes, the party had it all!

Construction paper feather headdresses.








Seamus! (Who refused to wear the headdress, but looked handsome nevertheless.)




Fabulous chefs!




Cute boys!



And after dinner hot tub action!

Christmas Gift Idea

Fundies. When you love someone so much, you want to share your underpants with their junk.

Yes. I’m still alive and well. But quite sleepy.

I’ve been missing because last week was a crap week. I worked entirely too much and too hard. Some days, I even forgot to eat lunch!

It was a week of being tired and cranky. Of being nervous and on edge. Of wanting to eat nothing but cheese. It was the sort of week that would proceed my having a dentist appointment at 8:30 on Saturday morning. The only thing worse than getting a tooth filled is getting a tooth filled while hungover.

And then I meant to catch up with blogland over the weekend, but we got Guitar Hero for Wii and all other plans went out the window.

So here is my attempt to catch you up on important events:

1. Drunk + microwave popcorn = smoky burnt mess.
On Friday, I was so happy that my crap week was over that I went straight from work to the bar. Luckily, some friends met up with me there. But if they hadn’t, I probably would’ve just hung out there by myself.

At the end of the night, I went home and was starving. I went to the kitchen and made a bunch of noise, slamming cupboard doors shut and shifting dirty dishes around in the sink. Eventually, I found a box of microwave popcorn and decided this would be a good treat. So I took the plastic wrap off one of the bags, read the directions – 2 mins, 30 seconds – and tossed the packet into the microwave.

It seemed like about 10 seconds went by before the horrible smell of burnt popcorn filled the air and the bag had a little black spot on it. Out of curiosity and the hope that I could save a few good kernels, I opened the bag and dumped it into a big bowl, only to discover that about 60% of the popcorn had molded together into an awful brown and black mass.

There’s no point to this story, other than it reminded me of freshman year of college, when everyone had a microwave in their dorm room and popcorn was a favorite late night snack. And the frequent incidence of burnt microwave popcorn became such a nuisance that our floor had to have a meeting in the lounge about it. We all had to swear that we’d be careful when we drunkenly made popcorn, lest we accidently burn the building down or condemn our floormates to the stink of burntness for another day.

2. Books
I have to tell you that, despite my bi-monthly attempts at personal betterment, I don’t read books. I like the idea of reading books, I really do. But TV is so much easier.

My last job was in creative development for a production company. This involved reading lots and lots of books and scripts. I probably read about 80 books over 18 months. Since that job, I’ve read about 3.

Last month, when Devin and I flew back east for a wedding, I brought a book with me. Possible Side Effects by Augusten Burroughs. I was done with it by the time we boarded out return flight. Turns out, reading is the only thing that keeps me occupied on a plane.

After that trip, I was again inspired to read more. So I went over to the bookshelf in our apartment and scanned all of Devin’s books. There were a few by Chuck Palahniuk, but he scares me. And a few by Charles Bukowski, who I like a lot conceptually, but his writing doesn’t really do it for me. And then I found The Curious Incident of the Dog In the Nighttime. I remembered this book from my last job, when there was a lot of fuss about it. Apparently it’s written as though from the perspective of an autistic teenager and this makes it amazing (if a bit gimmicky).

So I’ve been reading this book now for like 2 weeks. I’m about 90 pages in because I fall asleep every time I get through 2 pages at once.

TV wins!

3. The Big One
Two Thursdays ago, Southern California had a big earthquake drill. At 10 am, everyone was supposed to pretend there was an earthquake and figure out what to do with themselves. Our office didn’t participate in this, as most of us roll into work at about that time so it wasn’t entirely convenient. But at our next meeting, one of my coworkers brought up that we should still probably take the time to have a drill because “The Big One is definitely coming.”

After the meeting, he chatted with me more about The Big One and how big earthquakes come every 150 years and we’re long overdue. And how it will last for over 90 seconds, compared to the 10 seconds of the last one we experienced. And how the brick wall next to my desk will crumble down and how the big window over my head will shatter and how I’m in the worst place in the whole building, but lucky for him he’ll be safe. My other coworker who sits with me in the death trap didn’t like the sound of this either and later, with much giggling and silliness, we worked out our evacuation plan.

Ever since that day, I’ve been really preoccupied with The Big One. Every time I am in a new environment I think about where I’m going to duck for cover if The Big One strikes right at that moment. I now know where I’ll hide if I’m at work (the doorway by the bathroom, or outside if I can make it), at home (run outside, it’s not that far), on the street in front of our building while walking Seamus (hold onto a stop sign pole and watch for falling palm fronds), at the bar we went to Friday night (duck under table), at the bagel place (again, table). And so on and so forth. As you can see, I’m extremely prepared and partially insane.

Ok, Ok, I Give Up

I have some news:



I know that I was fighting it. Fighting it for far too long. But lately I noticed that when I admitted I didn't have a facebook account I was met with looks of disgust and confusion. As though I'd just told them I eat poo and sew all of my own clothes.

Moreover, I realized I was missing out on some good stalking.

And so today I signed up. Within 4 seconds I was confronted with a page of 55 profiles of people I apparently knew through one channel or another. "Would you like to send friend requests?" I was asked. Ok, sure. But HOW did facebook know that these people were my friends?

I checked off a bunch of boxes and then skipped over all of the hobbies and interests section and then ta-da, I was a facebooker.

I didn't know what exactly I was supposed to do at this point, so I just decided to ignore everything for now and check my gmail account.

And oh hey! 4 people already accepted my friend requests. And someone wrote on my wall. And Devin updated my relationship status and I needed to verify it, or something.  Man this facebook is like quicksand!

So I followed a link in my email to try to respond to whatever facebook wanted me to respond to but then I was just led to my homepage which was like a little patchwork quilt of pictures and words and cool kid facebook slang that I don't comprehend. I felt a knot in my stomach.

This week on Brotherhood, Mrs. Caffee, a senior citizen, gets a new prescription from her doctor, but learns that her healthcare plan requires her to go through a phone service to order it. There's a scene where she is reduced to tears because the automated system on the phone is too unfamiliar for her. 

I felt like that.

Anyway, if you'd like to validate my questionable decision to sign up, please be my guest.  Friend me.   I'd send you a link for how to get to my profile, but I have no idea how that works.

Class of '00

The other day I got a little postcard in the mail from my high school's directory office asking me to call within 7 days to update my info. I nearly threw it out, but then thought I should follow up because this might have to do with my 10 year reunion. I want to make sure I am invited so that I can make a big deal about refusing to go.

So just now, while there was a calm point in my day at work, I dialed the hotline number on the card. I wanted a website. Who does these things over the phone?

While waiting for someone to pick up, I noticed the address for the directory office was a P.O. Box in Chesapeake, Virginia. My high school was in New York. What the?

And then someone picked up. He said that they were checking all of the graduates' contact information for some directory they'll publish soon.

Me: I've never gotten a directory before.
Him: We only do this every 8 years.
Me: Oh. So it has everyone from the last 8 years in it.
Him: It has everyone ever. Or, everyone who agrees to be in it.
Me: So this is optional.
Him: Can we start?
Me: Ok.

He double checked my name and mailing address and the year I graduated. He asked for my email address. I hesitated, but then figured what if SOMEONE randomly wants to talk to me? Like someone who graduated earlier than I did and also works in the entertainment industry and needs a new VP for his or her company and wants to hire an alum. I should at least be open to such things. So I gave the email address I rarely ever check.

Him: So what were your favorite activities in high school?
Me: I didn't have any.
(A pause)
Him: Did you play any sports?
Me: ...No.
(A pause)
Me: I was in marching band?
Him: OH! Well that's something!
Me: Great.
Him: And what is your favorite memory from high school?
Me: I don't have any.
Him: None?
Me: None.

I can just imagine my listing in the directory:
Favorite activity: marching band
Favorite memory: none

How sad.

Him: Do you have a spouse or kids?
Me: No.
Him: None?

I didn't like the tone of his response.

Me: None.

I was about to ask "well, I'm engaged, do you put that in the book?" but then he kept talking

Him: No kids?
Me: No.
Him: Or, at least, none that you know of, right? Hahahaha.

I wanted to tell him that this joke would only work if I were a man because, as far as I know, a woman can't birth children without her knowledge.

By this point I felt like I'd been on the phone for an hour and I was worried I'd provided much too much information about myself. I also figured no one would ever read this directory because everyone just stays in touch through facebook (except me, but I might get an account soon).

Then came the part of the conversation where he tried to sell me this directory. Or rather, "order a copy in advance."

Me: No thanks...
Him: Well, that's fine, but maybe a soft cover copy. It's $20 cheaper.

$20 cheaper? I wouldn't pay $20 total for this thing.

Me: No, really. I don't really want to talk to anyone or hear from anyone I went to high school with.

I hope they don't print that either.

Him: Oh. Got it. Can I email you my youtube videos?
Me: What?
Him: You know. Since you do production stuff.
Me: Oh. Uh, fine.

Say Hello To My New Pal

Election night was full of fun surprises. And the biggest surprise of all came late in the evening when our neighbor returned home from a party with a bigger than life size Barack Obama cardboard cut out.

Here it is. It's like 7 feet tall.




And a close up. Look at that handsome face.



When Mr. Obama arrived at our door, we had only the screen door open. There was a knock knock, and I looked up to see him standing there. It startled and confused me. Our neighbors remained out of view as the President Elect stood at our door. All I could think was, "Is he personally thanking all of the voters?" I couldn't process that this was a cardboard object, and not a person. I think I was getting tired.

The neighbors brought him inside and then there was the telling of the story of how it came into their possession. And then the taking of the pictures for facebook use.

And then we didn't know what to do with it. We wanted to leave Barack somewhere in plain view, at least for a week or so. But, it turned out, there was nowhere in the entire apartment that we could put him that wouldn't cause you to jump out of your skin when you entered the room. That first night alone I scared myself senseless about 10 times. I think I actually screamed on a few occasions. I'd come inside from walking Seamus or go to the kitchen to get a drink and then HELLO! there he is again.

By this point I've gotten used to his presence and placed him in what's turned out to be the least upsetting location in the apartment.

Except that he watches when I walk out from the bathroom after I take a shower.

Okay, it went right.

Which is good, because I don't have to move to outer space. My costume was too tight anyway. It was hella uncomf.

When I heard the election results I just sighed and said "Thank God." Then I heard other people in my office/loft building cheering.

Shortly thereafter I drove home. All through the streets I could hear cheers coming from apartments. Much better than the riots I anticipated if McCain won.

Speaking of him, I feel a little bad. I mean, I'm extremely glad he didn't win. But it's sad to lose. And unlike George Dubs, I don't think McCain is rotten to the core. I think he just hangs with the wrong crowd.

Also, I hope Sarah Palin feels like a jackass. She should. And did anyone see that footage of her voting in Alaska? She was wearing a ratty winter coat. You're on TV, woman! Pull yourself together.

My favorite moment of Obama's victory speech came after he'd finished. First Biden walked out on stage. And then a few minutes later, about 20 family members. They stood around awkwardly hugging for a while. Can you imagine if the first 10 minutes of your family's Christmas party took place on stage in front of the world? It was like that.

And then, Michelle Obama's mom, in the midst of all of this excitement about her son-in-law, pulled Michelle to her, pointed toward the crowd, and said, "Look! There's Oprah!"

If This Election Goes Wrong

I'm all set to move to outer space.




I even made a paper mache helmet.

Thrill The World - Happy Halloween!

Frankenspecs

Just over a year ago, I got prescription glasses. For years, I hadn't been able to see distant objects very well, and over time I also had trouble reading street signs or words on the TV.

I spent $500 on my new glasses. That's a good chunk of money that I'd normally never drop on one single item, except for maybe a plane ticket. MAYBE.

But I figured these specs would last me for years, so I may as well splurge on designer frames. And, while I was at it, get the best "glare free" fancy pants lenses too.

For a few months, life was grand with my new glasses. People said they made me look hip. And cute. And I, in turn, felt hip and cute.

Then we got Seamus the puppy who promptly found my glasses and chewed on them. The left arm (stem? stick? what is that called?) came off and he left little tooth marks on the lenses.

Angry, I ignored Seamus for a few hours. He didn't seem to notice. How does one teach a dog not to chew glasses? It's probably easier to teach a human not to leave her glasses on the coffee table.

I threw my mangled glasses into a drawer, figuring I'd get the arm re-attached...eventually. After all, I'd spent years squinting to read the menu at Starbucks, I could certainly handle it again.

I handled it for, oh, 6 months.

I know, I am a horrible procrastinator.

Finally, after nearly turning the wrong way down a one-way street, I decided it was time to get my glasses repaired. So on my lunch break one day last week, I drove them to Lenscrafters, where I'd purchased them in the first place.

"My dog ate my glasses," I announced to the woman at the front desk. God, I'm so adorable.
"Oh dear. Well let's see."

I opened the case to produce the chewed frame and the detached arm. For effect, I separated the two pieces by a few inches when I set them on the counter.

"Now, we can't fix those here, but..." What? Why not? Are you not a maker of glasses? Do you not have tools? "Here is the business card of Joe Roberts Optical. It's on Magnolia. He should be able to solder that back on."

Hrrmph.

So I drove to the block of Magnolia where I thought I'd find this store. I parked my car and then walked up and down the street, but I didn't see it anywhere.

Finally, I spotted what looked like the door to a small storefront, but was actually more of an open archway that led to a secret courtyard filled with many blue doors. There were all sorts of businesses hiding back here. Accountants and talent agents and chiropractors. And it looked as though nothing had changed since the 60s --faded signs, cracked paint. It was eerily silent. No one else was walking around. I felt as though I'd stumbled upon a hidden time portal. (That last statement gives you some indication of how desperate I am for a little adventure in my life.)

I found Joe Roberts Optical at the end of one of the corridors. I opened its blue door and walked into a teeny tiny room with two chairs and a torn leather couch. The walls were covered by wood paneling and signed headshots of old actors, presumably Mr. Roberts' patrons.

No one was in the room to greet me. To my left there was a doorway into a small office with a desk and 2 chairs. And behind that, another doorway leading to a back room. What a weirdly deep space.

I stood there silently, looking at the headshots in the front room. George Burns! Huh.

"Hello?" I heard a man's voice from the back room.
"...Hi"
"Come in, sit down."

I presumed he meant for me to enter the room with the desk, so I did just that. At the same time, an old man came through the doorway to the back room. He struggled to walk, and used the handle of the open door to support himself. It made me sad.

We met on opposite sides of the desk in the center of the room. He was completely adorable.

"My dog ate my glasses."
"Let's see."

Just as I'd done at Lenscrafters, I dumped my mangled glasses onto the desk. He picked up the pieces and examined them. "Well, I can't solder this."

Crap. I imagined this meant the frames were now totally useless and I'd have to drop $500 on a new pair.

"You see, if you solder it, it will melt this plastic. But I can try to dig up another one of these (he held up the detached arm) and attach that instead."
"You mean find some random piece and attach it."
"Yes. If I can match the color close enough."
"Oh...uh...sure."

So I left my glasses there for him to fix. And by fix, I mean attach some foreign arm that came from who knows where, thereby negating the entire point of designer frames.

A few days passed and I called to check up on my glasses.

"Are they ready?"
"I think so."
"Ok...can I come get them?"
"Yes."
"How much will it be?"
"Twenty dollars." Score! Suddenly I didn't care what my glasses looked like. I'll put up with a lot for a good bargain.

I made my way back to his store and he greeted me. His shakey hand held out my glasses.

"Here. Try them on."

I wanted to look at the new arm a little better, but didn't want to give the impression that I cared about it. So I put the glasses on.

When I did, he smiled. "Good as new."

And so now I have these glasses with two different arms. The new one is tortoiseshell, whereas the original is solid brown. And the new one has this little metal diamond on it instead of "Ralph Lauren." And also the new one is sort of sticky, like it had been wrapped in tape.

But that's okay. Because I like Joe and his tiny store in the time portal.

Also, it's physically impossible for anyone to see both sides of my head at once. So no one will ever know about my Frankenspecs.

There's Something On Your Lawn

I've grown to really enjoy my morning walks with Seamus the dog. Yes, it means getting up earlier than usual, walking aimlessly through the neighborhood and picking up poop. But it's also a chance to enjoy the day when the air is cool and the sunlight in bright yet gentle. There are few other people milling around, just those unfortunate folks who have to head into work earlier than I do and some other dog owners (who always stop to remark just how handsome Seamus is).

During these walks, Seamus is oh so happy just to be alive and starting his day, and watching him makes me feel the same way.

But lately there have been some odd sites in our neighborhood that make it a little difficult to feel jolly and energized. Now, our particular block is all apartment buildings, but as you head further into the neighborhood the streets are lined with neat little one story houses. As Seamus and I walk passed them, I admire the well-kept lawns, Spanish tile roofs and cactus gardens by their front porches.

And now that it's nearing Halloween, there's something else for me to look at: A shit ton of heinous stuff on their fronts lawns.

This morning, I brought my cellphone with me to take pictures to share this all with you.

First, there is a house just a block away from us that has their whole front lawn covered in tombstones and zombies that look like they are crawling out from the ground.

They also have a monument to the death penalty.



I'm not sure why, but skeletons have always made me uncomfortable, ever since I was little. And I don't appreciate how close this one is to the sidewalk. I find I keep crossing to the other side of the street to avoid it.

And see that hanging man in the background? Is that legal? Doesn't it seem like it would be illegal to have a life size dummy hanging from a real noose on your front lawn?

This house also had some small spooky little touches around the side of the house. Like these impaled skulls in the rose garden.



I've also noticed that those gossamer spider webs are a popular choice for decorations. You know the kind I mean? It's like a loose wad of cotton that comes in a big package for like 75 cents.

Anyway, this one house LOVES fake spider webs. And, apparently, they also love caution tape.



I think at some point people just started associating this fake stuff with general creepiness and forgot that it's supposed to represent a spider's web. No spider or group of spiders could possibly ever generate this much web.

Except, of course, for this spider:


One block over, a house is entangled in a spider web. As some of you may recall, I'm not a fan of spiders, and this sort of made me uneasy. I also don't like the two evil people standing on the roof.

And now that I've given you a little tour around some of my favorite displays, I'd like to show you the piece de resistance. A whole lawn chock full of batshit crazy. I really have to applaud these people.



See, some how these folks obtained the shell of an airplane and made a zombie pilot. They also made a scarecrow and carved a jack o lantern head. Look closely and you'll see the scarecrow is holding a rope, which is tied around the neck of a wheelchair bound person with a bag over his head. Behind that, you'll see a mirror. "Redrum" is written on it in red paint (Or maybe actual blood. I wouldn't put it passed them.) There is a whole movie theme worked into this display. And that mirror represents, of course, The Shining.

But wait, there's more! There is so much shit going on here that I needed to take several pictures.

Here is the representation of Se7en. That sign reads "What's in the box?"




You can't ask me "What's in the box?" and then put a box in front of me. I stood at this stupid thing for entirely too long, resisting the urge to open the box. I know...I KNOW these people put something in there, but I'm too terrified to see what it is.

Then there is a bathtub with Psycho written across it and a dead woman.




Seamus smelled this part of the display for a good while. He was all, "You look like a person, but you smell like old plastic. And you're weird."

This next part of their display has nothing to do with the movies, but it's disgusting.



And then there's this baby in a basket, with a sign that reads "Don't abandon your baby." Ah, maybe a nice bit of social responsibility?




But then what's with the other sign, "Don't abandon your human" with some sort of wolf thing eating a baby? A dingo! A dingo ate this baby!

At one point, the owners of this house must have gotten a little too creative, and they began inventing other movies, such as Attack of the Polygamous Pimp Penguins From The Projects of Pittsburgh PA.



Are you allowed to leave rifles on your front lawn?

And yes, in the background that is a hearse. The hearse first appeared a few weeks before this Halloween clusterfuck came into existence. I saw it parked on the street near their house, thought "Who has an effing hearse?" and then poof, it was on their lawn.

And yes, it's driven by a maniacal bunny rabbit.



When I saw this small detail I was actually startled. I felt a little flip in my stomach.

So my hats off to these particular neighbors. You've really come up with something here. I have never seen anything like this in my whole life. And I hope I never see anything else like it again.

Engagement Pictures

I have no talents. Really. But I do have a lot of talented friends. Maybe you could say my talent is making friends who are talented.

And my talented friends are also very helpful. One such person is Kesila, who offered to take engagement pictures of Devin and me. I'm not quite sure what one does with engagement pictures, but I never turn down free offers of anything, so we gratefully accepted hers.

We met on Saturday to take the pictures. I knew things wouldn't go well because, as I mentioned before, I'm not photogenic. And Devin won't sit still for 5 seconds and also has a problem with seriousness. We were somewhat doomed from the start.

However, SOME of the pictures turned out well. Here is what we have so far. Keep in mind these aren't touched up yet.

A good one, though I might look a bit evil:



**

Not sure why we decided to act this way, but it's certainly easier to goof off than act like terribly serious and important engaged people:



**

I like this one because it seems like a picture taken by someone who was spying on us, hiding behind something:



**

A big smooch. Sadly we are facing the camera the wrong way and missed a good opportunity to show off my engagement ring bling. But I like this ring too. It's also from Devin:




And then we cut the session short due to the camera's fussiness with lighting, so we still have some more smiling and cuddling to do in a future session.

Foods I Apparently Felt Were Absolutely Necessary To Shove Into My Fat Face Today - The Fried Sandwiches Edition

Oh hi there. It's been a while since I did one of these. And it's the perfect time because in the past 7 days I've had 2 grilled cheese sandwiches and 2 tuna melts. That's right, 4 sandwiches that are made by slathering butter on the outside of the bread, then frying it. 4 sandwiches filled with cheese, 2 of which are also made up of 90% mayonnaise.

It began over the weekend, when Devin and I were at a wedding near Buffalo, NY. We were staying at Beaver Hollow (hehe), a resort in the middle of the woods. There was no cell phone service and no sign of civilization, except for Smokey's Bar and Grill, located about a mile up the road. We went there after we arrived at Beaver Hollow on Friday and I was starving. As we pulled our rental car into Smokey's gravel parking lot, I noticed no other cars parked out front and wondered if perhaps the establishment was closed. But when we went inside, I was surprised to find it quite full of patrons. How had they gotten here? Had they just emerged from the woods? By the looks of them, probably.

The menu featured a great many re-workings of two key food stuffs - ground beef and breaded chicken fingers. The only thing I saw on the menu that I could eat: grilled cheese.

To my delight, the grilled cheese sandwich totally ruled. The bread was crisp and yellow, having apparently soaked overnight in a tub of melted butter. The cheese was of the unfortunately delicious, processed variety. Bright orange, like a traffic cone.

That night, after the rehearsal dinner, everyone gathered around a bonfire and drank. We woke up at noon the next day, missing breakfast by several hours. The kitchen at Beaver Hollow doesn't stay open all day, and so we knew we'd need to go back to Smokey's. This time we brought some new friends we'd made --wedding guests on the groom's side who were in need of some good greasy food.

Surprisingly, the menu hadn't changed on my second visit to Smokey's. And so again, I ordered the grilled cheese. It was just as delicious. But I was beginning to worry I'd gone too far.

Cut to yesterday. Lunch time. I go out with two friends to a little diner. Before I even get there, I know I want the tuna melt.

And so I order just that, and I eat it. ALL OF IT.

WITH FRENCH FRIES.

This morning, when I got dressed, I could barely fit my fat mass into my jeans. And even after I managed to zip them shut, I found it hard to walk or sit.

Today, I told Devin to meet me for lunch at the same diner. Without even meditating on it, my fat self was demanding another tuna melt. Must...have...butter crusted bread...melted cheese...

Let me also interject that I started my morning off with a mocha latte with WHIPPED CREAM.

When Devin and I sat down at the restaurant, I confessed my dilemma. "I want a tuna melt. But I can't. I CAN'T."

"Oh, just get it," he responded.

"Okay. Good point."

And so with that I came to consume my 4th fried sandwich of the week.

I am banning them from my diet until my jeans fit comfortably again.

3 Items to Discuss On This Wednesday

Item 1: Subway

I was just at Subway picking up some lunch and I noticed something that I've noticed before. When you ask for cheese, you get 2 measly triangles that are so thin they are nearly translucent. When you ask for tomatoes on your sub, you get 3 slices the size of nickels.

But when you ask for banana peppers, your whole sub becomes 80% banana peppers. The sandwich-maker sticks both hands into the banana pepper tub, scoops out giant mountains of peppers, and mashes them onto the sub. Peppers are falling off the top of the heap, but the sandwich-maker gathers them up and places them back on top. They add the top half of the roll, then cram more banana peppers into the crevices on both sides of the sub. "Would you like some extra banana peppers in a little cup on the side? In case you need more?"

I've noticed this also happens if you request jalapeños or dill pickles. Those little items that are only meant to add a touch of flavor.

Why?

Item 2: Excess of Target clothing

While I was waiting in line to pay for my banana pepper sub, I looked down and admired my shoes. "You'd never guess they were from Target," I thought to myself. Then I noticed my pants are from Target. And so is my shirt. Indeed, Target clothes are to my closet as banana peppers are to my sub.

I didn't want it to be this way. I know I am thrifty. And poor. And that I hate spending a lot of money on clothes because I always end up spilling soy sauce or red wine all over them. But still...a whole outfit from Target?

Item 3: The dent in my car

Once I left Subway, I got in my car to drive back to work. As I drove through the parking lot, I slowed down to go over the speed bumps. It was at one of these speed bumps that a man in a truck going the opposite direction waved his hand to get my attention. I nearly ignored him, but then noticed he was looking at the side of my car. Right away, I knew what he was trying to tell me. I rolled down my window to see if my hunch was right.

"I can fix that scratch on the side for ya," he offered.
"Oh...um..."
"I work at a dealership, but I will do it on the side. I'll fix the paint, pop out those dents."

You see, I got my car brand new 2 years ago. When I drove it off the lot it had 24 miles on it.

I bought the car to replace Misty, my previous car, who was killed in an accident. Misty also had a giant scratch along her side, resulting from a parking garage with tight corners and a big cement pole near my assigned space. I'd done this damage about 3 days after moving into my first apartment in LA.

When I drove Misty around, I'd often get stopped by car repair people --when she was parked at the 7/11, when I'd pick her up at valet --who would offer to fix the damage. "How dare they!" I thought. "How do they know I don't like my car all scratched up. And...and who are they to butt in and point out her flaws?"

Still, when I brought my brand spankin' new car, I was happy to drive something around that wasn't all scratched up.

This lasted for about 2 months. Until I pulled into my parking space and scratched the whole side of it. Same situation, different parking space. Go me!

And so when this guy in the Subway parking lot pointed out my unsightly dent, I tried to pretend there was no dent.

"It's fine! I hardly notice it!"

He had a little kid in the passenger seat. I could see him pearing from behind his dad's shoulder. Judging me. I pictured them later driving off, the father saying to his boy, "Now when you grow up, you have to take good care of your things. Or you'll be like that lady with the banged up car."

The man was persistent.

"Won't take me long. I'll charge you $170."

Cars were backing up behind both of us. The kid was squirming around in the passenger seat. I was holding him up from his Subway lunch.

I sighed. "Fine. I'll think about it."
"Great. I'm Peter. Just ask for me at the Ford dealership up the road."

I know already I'll never go get the dent repaired. But I'm getting a step closer. And I know that years from now, when I scratch up my next car, I'll be sure to get it fixed immediately.

These Kids and Their MTV

We're throwing a Halloween party. It's our third one and I'm pleased Halloween is finally landing on a weekend.

Because I'm excited, and because I haven't had much to do at work lately, and because the last episode of The Hills was boring and I don't have much to say about it on Hollywood Sucker, I've spent the day planning for the party.

After sending out the invitations (not using evite...I can't stand evite any more) and ordering decorations (streamers! and paper bats!), I decided to make a playlist.

Obviously I don't have my itunes library here with me at work, so I figured I would think of some new songs I can download.

It took me all of 20 seconds to realize I couldn't name one new song ---and certainly nothing anyone would want to hear at a party. I don't have much of a drive to work in the mornings, so I don't really listen to the radio in my car. And I don't get out much, so I'm not really around DJs at clubs.

So I found myself on MTV.com, watching 25 music videos I'd never seen --mostly by artists I'd never heard of --jotting down songs I liked.

I don't have a point to this story, other than to remark on how old and out of touch that made me feel.

And while I'm (sort of) on the topic of my Halloween party --can anyone tell me what to be for Halloween? I have no ideas.

My top 3 options so far:

1. A martini (but I was a margarita last year and I don't want to be stuck in a rut)

2. A fairy (but there isn't anything funny or clever about this...I just like wings...)

3. A sweatsuit

Please help.

Good News For Booze Enthusiasts

From the gmail labs: Mail Goggles. This application for your gmail aims to prevent you from sending drunk emails. The feature activates late at night, and forces you to complete a series of math problems before allowing you to send your alcohol-fueled, poorly typed and over emotional email to your ex, your long lost friend, your crush.

For more information, read here.

I was going to write something like "Why didn't they have this when I was still single?" But then I realized gmail didn't exist then either. And that I've actually never sent a drunk email. (Usually I prefer to embarrass myself in person.)

But anyway, I'm ever impressed by new technology. I want an application like this for iTunes. Something needs to stop me from getting drunk and downloading songs just because I liked them in 8th grade (See: Nada Surf's "Popular") or because I heard it on the radio earlier in the week and desperately needed to hear it again (See: Snoop Dogg "My Medicine").

The Hills Recap: Star-Crossed Lovers

Last week, Heidi's mom came to town to check in on her little blonde angels and see how they were fairing in the big city and with the Big Shitty (Spencer). Her visit brought her to tears as Spencer acted like an asshole and Heidi, quite frustratingly, defended him. "He's not that bad. He's just ruining our lives. And yes, Mom, he has a real job. He's a producer. It's super important."



After witnessing this family drama, big sister Holly decided to launch her plan to reunite Heidi and Lauren, thereby saving the pair and securing her role on The Hills. It's time to put an end to Speidi and move forward with Laurdi. (I don't know yet if it's pronounced Lordy or Lardy. I prefer the latter.)



STEP ONE: HANG OUT WITH LAUREN ON A SEMI-REGULAR BASIS

We join Lauren and Lo in their kitchen.

Lo: Morning, shmoopie!
Lauren: Hey. How's it going?



Lo: Great! I like your new headband. It's like you have a banana on your head.
Lauren: Thanks...what's wrong with your mouth?
Lo: What ever do you mean?
Lauren: It's all red and irritated.
Lo: Oh, right. I was just practicing kissing with the bathroom mirror again. I think Conchita is using some weird new glass cleaner that I'm allergic to. Remind me to leave her a note.



Lauren: Will do. Hey, are you busy later? Holly invited me out for drinks.
Lo: Holly? Again?
Lauren: Is that bad?

And then Lo says something that really confuses me. "Drinks are harmless." Ah, yes, isn't that what everyone's always saying about drinks? How harmless they are. How they never lead to inappropriate behavior, regrettable hookups, accidental divulgence of secret information, unimpressive dance moves, and Sundays wasted hugging a bottle of gatorade and watching Julia Roberts movies on TNT.

Drinks are harmless. Harmless, I tell you!

STEP TWO: RUB IT IN HEIDI'S FACE

Heidi and Holly meet up for a nice lunch.



Heidi: (perusing menu) Hmmm. What looks good? Ooo heirloom tomato sal--
Holly: I'm hanging out with Lauren.
Heidi: That's...nice.
Holly: Yeah she is so fun! Don't you think so?
Heidi: If memory serves...
Holly: Yeah we went to breakfast the other day and now we're going to S Bar. I haven't been yet.
Heidi: Why are you telling me all this?



Holly: What? Are you jealous?
Heidi: Yes.
Holly: Excellent...

Meanwhile, Audrina is blissfully unaware of the Laurdi activities. She is out on a date with Colin, a man who is intentionally the opposite of Justin/Bobby.



He is conversational, clean, and lacks that certain horrible something that just makes you want to sleep with him despite your better judgment. (You know what I mean, right? No? Just me. Ok then.)

Colin: I'm really glad you came out with me tonight.
Audrina: Well thanks for asking me out, Justin.
Colin: It's Colin.
Audrina: What is?
Colin: Me. I'm Colin.
Audrina: Duh... Have you had too much to drink or something? You're acting weird.




Colin: No. And even if I did, I'm not a weird drunk. I'm a happy drunk.
Audrina: Justin's a mean drunk. We fight every time. He just gets so bossy. And full of himself. And he starts ordering me around...and it's just so...hot.
Colin: Um.
Audrina: Justin has a shirt just like the one you're wearing. His has a big barbecue sauce stain on the front though.
Colin: Look, I don't know who this Justin character is, but I've had just about enough of him.



Audrina: Oh, Colin, I like when you get angry.

Meanwhile, in another fancy place in Hollywood, Holly is working her plan.

STEP THREE: DO A SOLID HEIDI IMPRESSION AND HOPE FOR THE BEST

Holly meets Lo and Lauren, who all but burst into tears at the sight of her. And no, not because her hair's so tall, but because she allegedly reminds them so much of Heidi.

Lo: It's uncanny.
Lauren: You're just like her.
Holly: Um...really?



Lauren: Yes. Like twins.
Holly: Hum. That's interesting. You know, these are my real boobs. And everything on my face...it's real.
Lo: That's exactly what Heidi would say.



Lauren: Adorable.
Holly: Ok. So I take it you miss her?
Lauren: Yes.
Lo: Totally.

Holly pulls out a tiny notepad.

Holly: How much would you say you miss Heidi on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being "Heidi who?" and 10 being "She completes me"?



Lauren: I'd say about a 7.
Holly: Hmmph.

Holly writes something, then closes her notepad, shoves it back into her purse, and lifts up her drink.



Holly: Well. Cheers!
Lo: Yay I love this part! Cheers!

STEP FOUR: RECONCILIATORY CORRESPONDENCE

Holly really timed this out perfectly. She had Heidi write a good old fashioned love letter to Lauren, and then sent it out so that Lauren would get it the morning after Step 3 was put into action.

Lauren brings the note with her to work to get Whitney's opinion on it. Oh yeah, Whitney's on this show. I forgot.

Whitney: What's this?
Lauren: A letter from Heidi.
Whitney: Oh wow. That's crazy. Can I read it?
Lauren: Of course.



Whitney: Dear Lauren. I've been thinkingk about you and I just wanted to say I'm sorry for everythingk I did. You're a good friend. I like butterflies, do you like them too? My favorite color is purple. I have a cat named Binxworth. Your friend, Heidi.
Lauren: What should I do?
Whitney: I don't know.
Lauren: Then why are you even in this episode?



Across town and still totally unaware of all things Laurdi, Audrina goes on date #2 with Whats-His-Face.



Colin: How was work?
Audrina: Good. I was tired though. Justin called and I was up all night talking to him.
Colin: Outstanding.



It doesn't take long for Colin to realize that Audrina's too caught up in her old flame to give him a fair chance. He probably should've realized this on the first date, but we can't all be geniuses.

And speaking of geniuses, mastermind Holly is still working feverishly to reunite Lauren and Heidi. She drops by Lauren's house to carry out step 5.

STEP FIVE: ENSURE RECONCILIATORY CORRESPONDENCE WAS RECEIVED, UNDERSTOOD



Lauren: Hey new bestie, what's up?
Holly: Just dropping by for a little chat. Get any interesting mail lately?
Lauren: Oddly enough, yes. I got a letter from Heidi.
Holly: You don't say...
Lauren: She said she was sorry. She wants to be friends again.
Holly: And what do you have to say in response?
Lauren: I mean, I want to move on, but--
Holly: Wait! Don't say anything yet. I need to get my notepad.
Lauren: OK...

Holly rummages around in giant purse. Produces her notepad.

Holly: Ready.
Lauren: It's just that I want to punch Spencer in his stupid face. And as long as she's with him, I can't be around her.
Holly: This makes so much sense. I --I can't believe I didn't see this before...
Lauren: Why does she even need to be with him anyway?



Holly: Well some people prefer to be with someone horrid than to be alone.
Lauren: Ha! That's crazy! I'm alone and it's...pssh...awesome. I get to hang out with my friends in my kitchen. I get to go on dates with guys I went to high school with. It rules...
Holly: Yyyyeah. And how certain are you that you'll be friends with Heidi if she ditches Spencer?




Lauren: Very.
Holly: Aaaand if you were to rank that on, say, a scale of 1 to 10?
Lauren: 8.
Holly: Nice. Well I'll just be heading home now.
Lauren: Aren't you gonna stay for dinner?

The next day, Lauren and Audrina convene in their backyard to sunbathe.

Audrina: Hey hey. What's new?
Lauren: I think Holly is plotting to make me be friends with Heidi again.



Audrina: Wow, really? Since when.
Lauren: She started a few days ago. I don't think she knows how obvious she's being.
Audrina: And I missed all of this? Where I have been?
Lauren: Good question. Where have you been?
Audrina: I went on a few dates with some guy. Carl or Gavin or something like that. He was a bartender. Or maybe he built custom coffee tables?



Lauren: Sounds like it's not going so well.
Audrina: I broke it off with him. I just can't stop thinking about Justin. And the way his hair smells.
Lauren: Kinda like tree sap?
Audrina: And cigars. Yeah.
Lauren: So this Carl/Gavin guy? Is he cute? Is he my type?



Audrina: You're kidding, right?
Lauren: Ha! What? Yes! Of course...

STEP SIX: GET HEIDI AWAY FROM SPENCER FOR THREE FREAKING SECONDS AND TELL HER WHAT SHE NEEDS TO DO


Holly: I talked to Lauren again.
Heidi: Good for you.
Holly: No, I mean. I've been doing some detective work and--
Heidi: Nerd.
Holly: Do you want to be friends with her again or not?
Heidi: (sigh) Ok, what's the deal?



Holly: On a scale of 1 to 10 she is just 2 points away from being your friend.
Heidi: Beg your pardon?
Holly: You're so close. All you have to do now is...

Holly trails off, looking at something behind Heidi.


It's Spencer! (Cue sinister cartoon music.)

Spencer: Why are we discussing Lauren? I gave you a list of acceptable discussion topics when you arrived at this apartment, Holly.
Holly: I know, but I have nothing left to say about the jelly fish tank, Les Deux, Batman, or "tight" brunch spots.
Heidi: Spencer, we were just talking about my attempt to fix my friendship with Lauren.
Spencer: Well that ain't gonna happen, not in a million ye--
Holly: Spencer is the reason it won't work! There I said it.
Heidi: That's not true!
Holly: Yes it is! Studies show!
Heidi: Really?

Heidi is quiet for a moment. She looks as though she is about to make an important decision. And then--

Spencer: Forget it, babetard. You're mind.

STEP SEVEN: AW, NUTS.