A Fabulous Fortnight

This year is only two weeks old and I am so in love with it, I could lick it. And, yes, I type that tentatively because I know that so many people are having a tough time. Two wars and a rotten economy are affecting us all. Friends of mine are dealing with job losses, major health crises, even deaths of their most cherished. I can't hug them enough, even if that embrace can only come through an email. I blame 2008, though. 2008 was rough. I think we are all breathing a collective sigh of relief that 2009 is here. Or maybe it's just me.

Let me share with you, before you think me too glib, that I only know for sure I have a job through next month. I'm hoping it will be extended a bit longer, but there is an air of the unknown going on in my life, too. Everything is in flux. The Jello of my life is still a thick, unset liquid. Nothing is yet concrete. But, that has not has not diminished the shine this year has brought me.

What has this year delivered in such a short time? Contentment. I know. You just threw up in your mouth a little, right? I could hear your groans from here. But, for an A-type Aries personality, contentment is HUGE. I have only flipped off a stupid driver twice this year. I know. Pick your jaw up off the floor. Granted, now that I'm not commuting to the outer reaches of Malibu, I hardly drive. But still. The streets are littered with crap drivers. The short little drive to the gym could bring on Carpel Tunnel. But the middle-finger reflex is no longer automatic.

The last nine years have been *challenging* for me to say the least. Going freelance right before the economy dipped the first time and the internet imploded probably wasn't the best timing. I've been digging myself out of that crater since I made that move. Being utterly stubborn (and allergic to office air), I sort of refused to give up on the life I wanted. Which is one of independence. Many friends suffered along the way with me. Understandably, they grew a little weary of hearing me say, "Sorry, I can't afford it," or kindly picking up the tab. Believe me, I didn't enjoy it. There is a deep level of humiliation in having a friend subsidize your bar tab. You know you are low when you get a Trader Joe's gift card in a "Thinking of You" card (which was so perfectly timed, I cried). Finally, though, there is a shift. Not necessarily a material one, but one of perspective and actually seeing the opportunities in front of me. Yes, there remains some instability and unknowns in my world. But this is the year.

This is the year for all of us. Don't you feel it, too? Even my friend who is going through chemo and all the *fun* that brings is loving 2009. There's just something in the air. And, even though it is only two weeks old, this is already the best year of my life.

Yes, I hear the groans. Apologies for inducing your gag reflexes. Deal with it. I'm happy. I hope you are, too.

Happy

Okay. It spite of my Friday whine, things are going pretty good. Not much has changed. Nothing monumental has occurred. No lotto wins or such. No. I'm just happy. And oddly so.

It started on Friday, as a matter of fact. And it was just the little things. Beautiful day. Open pump at the cheap gas station. No line at the bank. And now, I'm getting miles on my debit card. For a girl who never has cash and will use her debit card to buy gum (and then get cash back), this is sort of fabulous thing. It makes me quite happy.

My venti-soy-latte from Starbucks was perfect. I had lunch over the Malibu surf and under blue skies at Gladstone's -- and was not shat on by the plethora of seagulls and pigeons that hover over the patio, which was sort of cause for celebration on its own. I had a nice dinner and was in bed early. I didn't even mind the midnight phone call that pulled me out of the deep sleep I just hit. It was worth it. I felt content.

The weekend was warm and quiet and easy and relaxing. Like I said, nothing monumental or anything in particular has happened to bring on this perma-grinned bliss. This isn't medicinal. Or liquid. As a matter of fact -- and not to be all TMI -- PMS didn't even bring it down a notch. See what I mean by odd?

Yes, things remain on hold. And, nothing's really changed. I didn't lose eight pounds overnight. I didn't wake up a multi-millionaire. I didn't win a Golden Globe or have dinner with the Clooney. A SAG strike looms (which could really put a hiccup in one of my projects), I haven't even begun to deal with my taxes (or input all my debit card usage into QuickBooks), and I'm super behind with work. None of that has diminished the happy. Which is terribly odd, don't you think? But, I'll take it. And, whatever this is, I hope it sticks. This simple form of happy is really kind of groovy. I hope it's like a new flu and you can catch it, too.

It's All About Getting Your Stockings Stuffed

And so it is Christmas. Eve, anyway. I wish you all well. I hope that you have a wonderful holiday, free of drama, food poisoning, *misunderstandings*, hangovers and all the other *joys* this time of year can bring.

To me, the holidays are about the little things. A smile. A heartfelt holiday wish. A card from someone far away. See's Candies. Silk soy nog. Kisses under the mistletoe. My friends. And stocking-stuffers. I always got a kick out of what I might find there. There was always some sort of curious little surprise that I would end up adoring (a roll of toilet seat covers for one's travels), or things that I might need (double pack of Lady Gillettes or a plastic rain parka), or things I really needed (cash), or sweet treats (I have a thing for Mon Cherie chocolates). It seemed I could tear through the gifts under the tree in a flash, but the stocking-stuffers were endless, both in number and entertainment.

So here's to your stockings being properly stuffed, brimming with happiness and anything else you may need and/or want. And for a little treat I can't get enough of, here's The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl. "Fairytale of New York" is the most perfectly beautiful dysfunctional Christmas song ever created. Enjoy. Cheers! xo

Who Gives a Twit?

By now, you must know that I'm addicted to the Twitter and the TiVo. Life is a little less real without them. Well, that might be taking it a bit too far. But it is certainly more convenient and fun having those two Ts around.

Twitter seems to be a mystery to a few. It's rather malleable and deeply dependent on who you follow. It can be kind of lonely in the beginning. Who do you follow? Where do you find them? I got lucky. At the time, I was testing out BlogHer and announced I was on Twitter. Immediately, I got a response by other groovy chick bloggers (not that I'm a groovy chick or a groovy blogger, but I do have a uterus and a blogspot). I got the gist following their tweet leads, then I did the unthinkable...I cruised the people they were following. I followed a few of them. A few of them followed me. And the next thing you know, I've got nine pages of tweets to catch up on when I get home from work. They are a prolific lot, and I adore them so.

In case you aren't a Twit, tweets are what you post on Twitter, and they are broadcast to all of your followers, and the public stream unless you opt out. You can let people know what you are up to, what you're thinking, share news, announce you're latest blog post or re-tweet (RT) someone else's tweet to share with your followers. Confused? Don't be.

There are various ways to use the big T. I prefer information and entertainment. I want to get the latest on the news front (which was very handy during the campaign), updates on the film industry and social media, some tech, and the brain droppings of my blogosphere friends. I actually read all of my tweets, and feel like I'm missing something if I don't.

There's another way to use Twitter -- a much more annoying way -- and that is to chat amongst followers, having 140 character exchanges. These are called @Replies and are typically used to respond to a tweet (give information requested or to give an attboy/girl). However, some have misconstrued the purpose and feel the need to @Reply to every tweet that comes their way. That would be a tw00b move. If you want to have an exchange you can DM (direct message) that person (if they follow you). But the endless @Replies finally led me to un-follow a very sweet blogger who would blast out twenty or more @Replies about three times a day. C'mon. That's what Facebook is for. Flip open your SideKick and text away. AIM someone, but I don't want to have to weed through a plethora of Right on!s to get to something more substantial. But that's me. I can build my Twitter any way I like. And, when I find a part that just doesn't fit, I un-follow it.

She un-followed me, too, for un-following her. Whatever. Which leads me to another question: When you follow someone, are you doing it because you are interested in what they have to say, or are you in it for the numbers?

If you look at my stats, I follow a mere 23. Of that, about 16 follow me back (some of the twilebrities don't always do a reciprocal). The other collection of my "following" are some nice people who tune in for whatever reason (cheers!), then there are random individuals and companies who seem to join and follow a bunch of folks hoping they will follow back. That was the Twitter etiquette from the beginning -- follow me, I follow you. But, as Twitter has grown, spammers and other forms of "promoters" have infiltrated, and that has made me think twice about doing a reciprocal. You usually know who the numbers people are because, if you don't follow them within an hour or a day, they un-follow you. Which can be rather funny. Because I actually take a few days to see what a follower posts and how often (including how may right-on @Replies they do) before deciding if I will follow them. And, even the followers I don't follow, I will check out their tweets from time to time, visiting them like extended family. But, for those who want the numbers, I'm not the gal for you. I like quality over quantity. But, that's just me.

So far, I've only un-followed the over-@replier and the Today Show (@Today). The Today Show had some pretty weak tweets. Let me know if Lauer joins Twitter. I'll be all over Matt that. Instead, I've got @RickSanchezCNN, @RachelSklar, @RachelMaddow and my friend @SuBu28 serving me up news. In addition to that, I follow a stellar lot of bloggers. They are informative and witty and rather provocative. Sometimes I have to be sure to swallow that swig a wine before reading a tweet because it could end up being sprayed all over my laptop.

Oddly enough, I only follow three personal friends on Twitter (though, I consider the network of bloggers I follow as buddies). For me, in most cases, friends are better suited for Facebook. Twitter is a little different. I think I actually enjoy it more that Facebook. There are no applications to deal with.

Then there's the other T in my life. The TiVo. I couldn't live without it. Seriously. I live on the corner of a busy intersection that is on the main drag to head East after a day at the beach. I cannot tell you how many crucial movie moments have been ruined by the thumping stereo of someone waiting at the light. Or the sirens from the firehouse a couple blocks away. Now, I can replay when interrupted, or pause when I need to pee. I keep up with the O-ster and have a stash of movies saved for when there is nothing good to watch on real TV. But, as my free time has diminished, so has my patience for meh shows. I'm un-following cancelling my Season Pass to "CSI Miami" and "My Name is Earl". I know. I loved the first two seasons of Earl. I'm just over it. And Miami was harmless mind candy for a bit, but now it bugs. Way too much filler, if you know what I mean. I think that leaves the original "CSI" as the only network show I watch. No, wait. There's "Biggest Loser". Duh. It's hard for me to give up on a show I've followed for so long. It's a loyalty thing. I want to support the effort. But, at the end of the day, I find that I'm deleting instead of watching...and that just means it's time to part ways. Besides, there's always a few episodes of "True Blood" saved I can replay instead.

Get It Straight

I got a Brazilian this weekend. No. Not that kind. A Brazilian Blowout. It's a new straightening technique. Not something I had planned on doing, but a friend of mine recently got certified and offered to help me de-puff my 'do. All I had to do in return was agree to a before and after shot, (which you will never, ever see...sorry, I do like my privacy, especially when it comes to my humiliation). I was also sort of serving as a guinea pig, testing out a new formula to see the effect it has on different hair types. My small contribution to all the fine-but-wavy-haired girls out there who are frying their locks with a flat iron. Something that kind of got me where I am today with the Katie bob. Besides, it only lasts eight weeks, washing away without unsightly regrowth. I'm living on the edge these days. What the hell, right?

Basically, the process goes something like this: She slaps some keratin concoction on like you would hair color, blows it dry, flat irons it, lets it cool, washes it out and blows it dry again. The kicker was that she used no product or brushes when she did the final style. Just the dryer and her fingers, and it looked like she spent an hour flat-ironing it to perfection. It's awesome. Even when I went out that night in the rain, nary a frizz in sight. No poof, either. Who can beat that?

Well, this is me we are talking about.

I woke up the next morning after a rough night of sleep (my allergies have kicked in, which feels like I'm fighting the flu), and my hair was perfect. But the true test was going to be doing it myself. I have zero talent when it comes to my hair. That's why long and one length is best for me. Idiot proof. Sadly, it's going to take some time to get that again.

I let it dry naturally, to see how it would land. Pretty good, but I needed to take the dryer to it to polish the ends (you really do need a precision cut for hair this straight). That took all of five minutes. Holla! This is so going to rock my world.

But, remember, this is me we are talking about. I can't leave a good thing alone. Ever.

After running around to a meeting and dinner with a friend, the length of my bangs was beginning to bug. Just at that annoying point where they were poking me in the eye. I don't have an appointment with my stylist for another two weeks and, with my jacked schedule, I wouldn't have a chance to pop in for a quick trim. So, I took matters into my own hands.

This isn't the first time I've cut bangs. So, you'd think I'd know better. Yeah. This is me we're talking about. Let's just put it this way: At least they are no longer in my eyes. Happily, they aren't hacked to my hairline either. My stylist is probably going to have a few words with me, though. She will likely start with, "Let me get this straight..."

Getting Good Head

(Right now, every guy I've ever "known" who has sworn he never reads/will never again read this site has read the title of this post and is thinking, "I bet this is totally about me." No. It's not.)

As I mentioned in a previous post, I treated myself to a new showerhead this week. And, as I mentioned in that post, it's not that kind of showerhead. I have the worst water running through the rustiest pipes that my landlord is too cheap to repair. It's not really what you want to be showering in. It's not exactly good for my hair, or my skin, for that matter. And I was beginning to notice the effect.

Now, the obvious reaction would be, "Well, get off your ass and get a filter, you ding dong." Yeah. I had one for a number of years, operating off the same filter until it was so clogged with what-have-you that water wouldn't come out of the nozzle. (I guess you are supposed to change the filter from time to time...yet another thing on the to-do list.) Since Gelson's, The Gap, Ann Taylor Loft, DSW and CVS don't carry water filters for your shower, several months (cough *two years* cough) passed before I ventured to Bed, Bath & Beyond with a coupon and picked one up.

Yes, I am that lazy/busy/pathetic when it comes to getting the little things done for myself. I'm a writer; what do you want? If I've got free time, I'm writing through it.

This week has turned into a fustercluck proper, and yesterday was the first opportunity I had to enjoy the benefit of filtered shower water at length. There are few daily tasks I look forward to more than the warm baptism of my shower. Sadly, most of them are hurried through in order to beat the clock. But, yesterday, I was determined to take my time. Rather than slapping around the lather of my hand-milled French soap, or shuffling around shampoo I overpay for, I finally got the chance to indulge in the thick rain of the new showerhead. A nice switch from bearing the needle shards of my old one. It was glorious. And it's going to make taking power showers that much harder. I'm going to have a hell of a time being on time for the new job. Damn.

Is there a difference? Yep. My hair is softer and smoother (less flyaways...hate those damn things). And my skin, which was always pretty soft because I slather it in cocoa butter, is even silkier. The filter is also supposed to help keep your shower cleaner (reduces scale), but I guess I'd actually have to clean my shower in order to notice. Hiring a maid is on my to-do list. I'm a writer. If I've got clean time, I'm writing through it.

In case you are curious, I got the Culligan Clear Promise. It's good 'head.

The End of the World

I know this is older than the internet and you've seen it a thousand and one times, but I lurve it, so make it a thousand and two. (There is some adult language in it, so you may want to turn the volume down if you're at the office, school or find yourself around uptight individuals.)

Mads About You

I'm in love. Truly, madly, deeply in love with the music of Mads Langer. Now, if you aren't from Denmark or don't listen to Passport Approved on Indie 103.1, you may not have heard of this wonderful wunderkind. Allow me to bring him to your Attention Please.

http://www.myspace.com/madslanger

Unfortunately, "Shine" isn't on the playlist there. That's the song that brought Mads to my attention and trust me when I say that it is one of the most perfect songs I've heard...and I'm not one to gush over just any bit of music. I can be a little snobby about it, actually. I come from a 70s glitter/glam-80s punk/new wave (though it gags me a tad to even write that phrase) musical upbringing. Bowie and Lennon were my first musical loves, and I fell for them when I was six. K-Tel 8-tracks and daytime showings of "The Midnight Special" brought David into my life, and my stepdad's favorite non-Neil Diamond album was Lennon's Shaved Fish. These men were songwriters. Though, I couldn't really grasp the concept of "Cold Turkey" at such a young age, and envisioned a really pissed off bird chasing after John. Anyway, "Shine" caused me to race out of the shower, dripping over to my laptop to Google him when I heard the song on Indie early one Saturday morning earlier this year. I found Mads but discovered "Shine" wasn't yet out in the States. I had to wait ever so impatiently for it to hit iTunes two months later (it's there now on the EP Fact-Fiction. Pop-Or ???, buy it).

"Breathe Out" and "Poem With No Rhyme" (my personal anthem), are from his debut album, Attention Please, and they are my two faves from it. From what I understand, he was 21 when the album came out. I'm sorry, but no one that young should be that talented. It's almost kind of rude, even at 24. The other song on the playlist, "Killer", I believe will be on the upcoming album (due to drop early next year). And, yes, I still call them albums because I'm using my power of positive thinking to bring LPs back. I miss liner notes.