The Heathernet

So. It's been a while.

2011-09-15T01:19:00.002-04:00

Hi there. Oh, remember me? Yes, we've been estranged for quite some time.

But I have something for you. Something I think you might like?

Go ahead.

Click above.

See how I've spent the last three years of intense grad school in a competitive MBA/MFA program at a top tier university.

Years of study. Concluding in the above link.

And yes, I am looking for a job.

Things I do not understand

2008-08-09T15:17:00.003-04:00

It's been less than a week since I descended upon New York, and I already have so many questions about my strange new home! I thought perhaps some of you might be able to offer up some insight. Without further ado, I give you:

Things I do not understand since arriving in New York!

1. Mystery condensation
I'll be walking down the street, making my merry way through the city, and doing my best to look tough and menacing yet captivating and approachable. When out of nowhere - BLAM! - a droplet of water will find it's way to my head/face/person. I look up - no clouds, leaking faucets, waterfalls - and so I do NOT UNDERSTAND where this water is coming from! (And let's assume, for the sake of my emotional wellbeing, that this IS in fact, water - I'm better off not thinking about the alternatives...) My early theory was air conditioning units but this mysterious moisture seems to find me indoors, outdoors, underground while waiting for the subway, everywhere! If anyone has a non-disgusting explanation, I await your hypotheses.

2. Why more people don't shop at Kmart
Or maybe they do! And maybe I am the only one who has heretofore turned up her nose at Kmart. I've always been a proponent of Target. But let me riddle you this: what is the ONE thing Kmart has that Target, sadly, does not? Two words, friends: Martha. Stewart. I was wandering the streets of Manhattan yesterday in search of affordable home goods, and becoming increasingly discouraged. I needed plates! I needed a colander! And might I remind you, I have no job! In the most expensive city in America! Along trots Martha to the rescue. Let me say this: I am a little obsessed with my new plates. OK, a lot obsessed. But look at them! P.S., that's a light silver hue - yes, folks, they are shiny! But not too shiny!

3. How one Trader Joe's is meant to support the entirety of the New York metropolitan area.
Look, I can't tell you how overjoyed I am that you're here, but there's a reason your lines are like Disneyland's. Please expand.

4. How people function when it's raining.
This is likely a holdover from L.A., and unrelated to the aforementioned mystery condensation. But seriously, in L.A. at least we have a car to sit in when it rains like, 12 days a year. Since I've been here it's rained three times. It's August. So people in New York, what, just walk around in it?

5. Why I don't have any friends yet.
Right?? I KNOW.

6. My bathroom.
Not sure why I am paying 3x my previous rent yet must run the water for 15 minutes to get it up to "tepid". And I'm not quite sure where to store my hairdryer because there don't seem to be any spare precious inches for some sort of makeshift cabinet. I do kind of like that the only window faces a brick wall though, as that soundly eliminates the possibility of any peeping tom issue.

7. That Kevin Costner continues to make movies.
Nothing to do with New York. I've just never understood it.

Perhaps these questions will remain unanswered, or maybe they'll simply be forgotten as I come up with new, more compelling questions, like how to fit a sofa in my studio apartment. Either way, please enlighten me if you have the key to any of these enigmas.

Oh, this site still works?

2008-08-01T18:27:00.000-04:00

Ah, well..... what can I say........ I like taking summers off? I know, I'm incorrigible!

OK, so that big secret, that I was waiting on, and then consequently you were waiting on? I'm sorry about leaving you hanging like that but now it's "all happening", and to get you up to speed:

Heather has quit her job.
Heather is moving to New York.
Heather will be attending grad school at NYU.
And apparently, for the purposes of this list, Heather has taken to referring to herself in the third person.

Yes folks - that math studying, the exploratory trip to New York, it was all a clever ploy on my part to get admitted to grad school! And it worked! I've already left Los Angeles, and am currently in a transitional residence (aka my parents') until next Tuesday, which marks The Big Move! So what am I doing instead of making sure I am ready and packed for The Big Move? Why, sharing my news with you, old internet pals! It's really the least I can do after my, erm, months of neglect. Which I already apologized for, so get off my case.

So the big news is that The Heathernet is going East Coast! And I won't have any income, which really shouldn't change things much with The Heathernet, unless someone wants to offer me a lucrative contract to ensure I post regularly. I think that would require some sort of advertising, right? Let's hear it for Mentos! The freshmaker.

Look out for updates from my adventures in NYC! I don't know a lot of people out there yet (read: I have no friends) which should leave me more time to spend with the likes of y'all!

Goodbye for now, golden state! I'll miss your sunshine and superior produce. Man, I love me some bear flag.

waiting sucks

2008-03-25T17:30:00.000-04:00

Hi friends.

I recently discovered I have a problem with being patient. I have been waiting on the outcome of a potentially-life altering decision for weeks, and while I received some information to ease my mind last week, I am still waiting for the final verdict. It's not easy, waiting, contrary to what people like Nelson Mandela would have you believe.

But Heather, you say, I've been waiting for you to update this blog for almost two months!

Touché, faithful reader, but lo - you have been rewarded! Because isn't that what being patient is supposed to be all about? The big payoff? "Good things come to those who wait" and all that?

I tried looking up some resources online that would help me with the actual agony of waiting. Turns out a lot of famous old people had already confronted the challenge of being patient! I compiled their advice into one handy column. So without further ado, I proudly present:

PATIENCE THROUGH THE AGES!

Patience is the greatest of all virtues. - Cato the Elder (234 BC - 149 BC)

Wow. Really going back here.

Patience is the greatest? Well while you're busy being a cheerleader for patience, what about a little virtue I like to call "honesty"? Or "respectability"? And perhaps my personal favorite, "prudence"? Besides that, your little quotable does nothing to help me wait. Moving right along...

Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold. For if you put on more clothes as the cold increases, it will have no power to hurt you. So in like manner you must grow in patience when you meet with great wrongs, and they will then be powerless to vex your mind. - Leonardo da Vinci, Italian engineer, painter, & sculptor (1452 - 1519)

Uh, sure Leo, being patient is just like wearing clothes. For being the archetype for the "Renaissance Man" or "Universal Genius" that everyone says you are, I would have hoped for a little more from the likes of you.

We could never learn to be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the world. - Helen Keller (1880 - 1968)

Helen, I want to like you, and the whole overcoming adversity against all odds thing? Brilliant. But do you have to be such a downer? Think about the upside: if there were only joy in the world, then perhaps we wouldn't need to be brave or patient. Circular reasoning. Next.

You must first have a lot of patience to learn to have patience. - Stanislaw J. Lec (1909 - 1966)

1. Who are you?

2. Patience to have patience? Another logic-defying chicken-and-egg scenario which helps me none.

3. Nice headshot tho.

I am extraordinarily patient, provided I get my own way in the end. - Margaret Thatcher (1925 - )

Now this is what I'm talking about! Finally, somebody who knows what's up. I'm with you Maggie, you wily old bird.

So until the outcome of my potentially life-altering event shakes out, you and I will be waiting here with bated breath. Or maybe just me. Either way, hopefully I will be able to update you in the coming days on the status of My Entire Life.

An obituary, and other interesting tales

2008-02-07T19:57:00.000-05:00

The criminal element has made itself known to me in 2008.

On a rainy night in early January, Loretta was struck in cold blood by an unidentified driver in an Oldsmobile Alero.

Well, not completely unidentified - sir, I got a good look at you and know that as soon as I have mastered the basic elements of ninja training, you will be the first object of my vengeance. (That is, after all, what we ninjas do, we avenge).

Officers arrived on the scene 20 minutes later. But the damage had been done. Loretta was later pronounced dead at J and J Auto Body Repair.

Loretta, as you motor on to the next world, I would like to thank you for always transporting me safely and stylishly to my various destinations. God bless.

So, one week after my car was totaled, I receive a phone call from my younger brother, debatably recent college grad, with this piece of news:

His car, a 1991 Toyota Camry, had been (wait for it)... STOLEN!

Yes, stolen. His 17-year-old car, plucked off the San Franciscan streets to feed some diabolical street gang's need for speed. One day he parked it outside his friends' apartment building; the next morning it was gone - no towing company or impound lot had any record of it - the car had simply vanished into the criminal underworld!

He posted this sign to aid the hunt for his vehicle. It must have helped, because a couple weeks later, his car was recovered! Complete with missing/altered parts and parking tickets! Stereo, gone. CDs, gone. They had even taken his cologne, those sweet-smelling bastards.

The best part about all of this was that while my brother and I were busy losing our cars, our parents were trying to vacation around various parts of Asia. They received the news about my accident via email, and had been so "terribly upset" that my brother didn't know how to tell them his car had been jacked just one week later. He was still contemplating how to sugarcoat the news, when my mom called to check in on affairs at the house.

He employed a strategy of talking quickly and since (I suspect) she was too stunned to respond, this seemed to work. He imagined mom surrounded by relatives, calmly trying to wrap her head around this latest development. She finally stopped him and said she had to go, but not before a final entreaty.

"Gordon?"
"Yes?"
"Find a job. It's time."

The latest is my brother has procured some fancy used Volvo at a local car auction since his old car is toast, while I'm still technically a pedestrian. To my knowledge, he also remains on the hunt for that ever-elusive paycheck. In the meantime, I've been renting, but that is not without its own headaches. [Apparently you need a credit card to rent a car?? Damn you and your discrimination against the validity of the Visa check card, Deluxe-Rent-A-Car!]

Anyway, this all makes me very glad I've taken up ninja training, as I clearly have a lot to contend with in gangland, what with drunk and/or uninsured drivers and thieves of low-quality autos.

resolution time

2008-01-04T20:44:00.000-05:00

I am really excited for 2008. The last time I was anticipating a new year this much was probably back at the end of 2004. My pal Mary and I both made a pact to really take advantage of all that 2005 had to offer - and perhaps it was this positive frame of mind, but in my estimation, we succeeded! 2005 was a banner year. 2006 was eh, just ok, and 2007 has been an all too valuable "rebuilding year". But what I'd really like is to enjoy the results of some of those refurbishing efforts and have a spectacular, super fantastic 2008 to look forward to!

That being said, I present, my resolutions. At least, those fit for publication online.

Become a ninja. [Lest you think I presume to become a ninja in one year, step one is kickboxing class. I would, however, like to keep the ultimate goal - namely, ninjaship - in mind]. Enjoy your last moments of complacency before I am a trained killing machine.

Improve my foreign language skills. I can either build upon my high school Spanish or my rudimentary French, consisting of Christmas carols my grade school made us sing in 4th grade en français.

Go somewhere new and/or foreign. Live in solitude and focus on being creative.

Stop saying "I don't know". Not entirely, but I rely on it all too much. Sometimes I do know.

Run a marathon. wait, WHAT!? OK, this never would have made it on my resolution lists in years past, but while I was in New York and on my way to the airport, I saw the proud, beaming faces of the marathon participants. Some of these people were pushing 80 years old! I said to myself, hey, I want to feel like that, and I'm only pushing 28! If not now, when?

Have a glass of champagne. This may take a wee bit longer, but know that I am working on it.

'08 is already off to an auspicious start. I spent New Year's Eve at the Mars Volta show in SF with Schmen, where we both dressed up as flappers! It was fantastic. In other good news, I've got all sorts of gift cards from the holidays eagerly awaiting redemption!

I close with a little tip for y'all: My path to ninjadom begins Tuesday. This will be your only warning.

Art.

2007-12-03T17:59:00.000-05:00

I made a short film!

That makes it sound like I crafted this thing by myself, which is in fact, not the case. I had the help and support of roughly 7 hardy volunteers, who sacrificed their weekend (and in some cases, much more) to help me create: Art.

What is this Art, you ask?

Well, I can only allude to it's magic, for to explain it in full here would only serve to diminish its value - as Art (obviously).

But just so you aren't totally in the dark, here are some visual clues:

Last night I had some people over to view the finished product. Needless to say, the audience was astounded by the cinematic tour-de-force packed into the 12 minutes that was my short. Not to mention I plied them with wine and osso buco to get them "receptive". Sometimes Art appreciation requires a little coaxing.

I bet you had no idea that my first foray into fillmmaking and Art would be so successful! Well, neither did I, but you can't control Art, it controls you! Yet another nugget of insight you might want to sock away for later...

Does Heather Spend Thanksgiving Alone??

2007-11-26T21:03:00.001-05:00

As promised, the blog that takes on the question only The Heathernet dared to ask: DOES HEATHER SPEND THANKSGIVING ALONE??

no. She does not.

I'll stop talking in 3rd person now. And how about correct tense, Thanksgiving was Thursday.

While I did not get to spend Thanksgiving with my family, I was not crying by myself into my turkey platter at Marie Callender's, thanks to the kindness of some lovely friends on the eastside. Before you go getting the Marie Callender's people all up in arms, allow me a quick sidebar: Do not cry for Marie Callender's - they were not hurting for business over the past weekend's holiday. To the contrary, when my roommate called to inquire about coming in, they informed her that all of their reservations were full. While I am, by all accounts, a notorious food snob... RESERVATIONS?? Am I the last person shocked by anything anymore?

I called home to extend greetings to the family just as my Dad was eating some uni, a Japanese delicacy that I won't get into too much detail about here, but a) it's delicious (trust me on this), and b) obviously not a Thanksgiving staple and therefore absent from my own celebration. Pretty sure he told me to ensure I wouldn't miss Christmas. Then I got passed around to every respective member of my family, amid loud background noise and shuffling. Each conversation went something like:

"Hi Heather! Happy Thanksgiving!"

"Happy Thanksgiving, Auntie ____!"

"We miss you!"

"I miss you too!...OK bye!"

Innocuous enough, I suppose, but multiply that out by about 15 in as many minutes. Cousins, aunts, uncles, family friends. I guess I should be grateful for being missed at all. Isn't that the whole point of Thanksgiving in the first place? Man alive, I am still a brat.

Anyway, my own Thanksgiving was still quite lovely. And the important thing, I managed to be somewhat productive, still working on that secret "time machine". Now to buckle down and finish up, so no more blogs until I defeat the laws of physics!

See you in the future, chumps!

On New York

2007-11-20T21:25:00.000-05:00

Hi gang,
I thought y'all might appreciate some updates, rather than be left to assume I had died in some horrific Times Square shoppers' massacre (why do I always imagine you suppose the worst...?) Not to fear, I survived the frozen tundra of NYC and am back in somewhat overcast Los Angeles. I had a super time in New York, and I wanted to take the opportunity to share some of my insights from the trip.

But first, a quick note on Virgin America.

Have any of you seen the movie Soul Plane? Now, this is a terrible movie, one that I might never have seen had I not been working for the studio that was responsible for it, MGM. In it, Snoop Dogg of gin-and-juice fame navigates a purple plane with rims and an onboard hip hop club. When I boarded Virgin America - soft purple mood lighting, light electro jazz, personal entertainment stations - I got sort of the same vibe. I felt like I was on Prince's private jet nonstop to Erotic City. But here's the thing: I loved it. The purple lighting was far superior to the harsh florescent tones of normal commercial planes and the whole atmosphere totally mellowed me out for my sleepytime redeye. Also, as passengers boarded the plane, I observed that everyone who got on the flight appeared to be incredibly good looking! Was this an illusion due to the purple lighting, or are Virgin passengers just subject to photo approval? Either way, big fan.

So, on to New York! OK, first trip, remember? So for those of you are like me and waited 27 years to visit, here is what you are in for: NEW YORK IS CRAZY! That's all I could determine during the first 24 hours. It's just...... crazy! There are so many people, there is so much going all, its all close together, and busy and there are always people all the time everywhere nonstop crazy crazy loco crazy! It took at least a day for me to process it. I've been to a lot of big cities, Paris, London, Bangkok, but the only place that really kindof compares is Tokyo and even then its like, not the same at all. I spent a lot of time just trying to comprehend it - in some ways it felt like travelling to another planet. I would be on the subway just watching people: "so... that's a New Yorker". In turn, they played their part by ignoring me, which kind of started to make me feel like maybe I fit in...

The other thing I did a lot of in New York was walking. There is a popular misconception that people in LA don't walk; that we all drive around in our cars to go a couple blocks and that even gyms have valet. OK, so this is actually not so much a misconception as it is an indisputable fact. Without Loretta, I'm basically immobile. So I was delighted to regain the use of my legs in NY, ambulating with ease throughout the city sans auto. Yes, my feet were tired, but I think it was one of those "good tireds".

I did not take as many pictures during my trip as I would have liked. In fact, I only really took photos when I was in Central Park. Half of these were of squirrels. [note on photo: the photos of squirrels that I did capture weren't even that stellar. Hence, this photo, which I borrowed from elsewhere on the interweb]. Dude - even the squirrels in New York are crazy! They were everywhere, jumping around, crawling around in the dirt, eating twigs. But somehow, crazier than our mellow squirrels here in California. Or maybe the cold was making me delirious...

It was very cold. That's not doing it justice: cold that somehow found its way past my layers of shirts and sweaters and jackets to my skeletal system. I am not built for cold. I have long spindly arms that long sleeves don't cover. My self-led tour of Central Park ended abruptly when I lost feeling in my hands and had to leave to purchase gloves. I walked to Times Square, to see what all the fuss was about, which was the height of craziness: gazillions of tourists (did I count as one? dammit!), groups of angry protesters, mentally unstable street vendors. I ducked into The Gap to buy gloves and make a phone call before bracing myself to face the throngs of people outside. Then I promptly got myself lost on the subway. Local versus express?? Why don't they label these things?!

Other highlights: I met up with my old bowling teammate in Soho, watched some bands play at a bar in the East Village, ate pizza, bought boots, enjoyed a drink at the top of the Hudson Hotel, went to dinner in the West Village, had brunch with a bunch of ladies... Things I did not do: see the Statue of Liberty, scale the Empire State Building, eat a hot dog, go to a museum, hold hands with anyone but myself. But, I suppose its good to leave some things for next time. All in all, I think the trip was a success, my first venture into the big city. Finally!

Upcoming blog topics: Heather creates Art, and, Does Heather spend Thanksgiving alone? Tune in, I'm trying to get the ol' reliability factor up.....

would you accept, summer break?

2007-10-24T18:49:00.000-04:00

Faithful readers!

According to my records, it would appear the last time I logged an entry in the ol' Heathernet would be sometime around.... oh, what does that say, July? Yes. I have been neglectful. My own unannounced summer vacation, I suppose. But what I'm certainly not here to do, is beg for your forgiveness, or deign to offer a litany of excuses attempting to explain my long absence. I don't have to justify the actions of The Heathernet! I don't have to answer to you!

OK, fine, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. But seriously? It's been really busy. Other things have been occupying the precious space in my mind, such as:

Hello? Bowling! A charitable bowling league does not run itself! There are forms to be filled out, playoff brackets to be organized, needy charities to be paid... contrary to popular belief, there is more to being a bowling commissioner than just glitz and glamour. A lot more. But the season is over now, so we can all proceed with our everyday lives until next season. (Jan. '08 people: the time to work on your roll is now!)

I moved! No, not to Venice, but to another delightful area within walking distance to bakeries and museums and concert venues and other nice things. It's a little less rent and lot more heart - think West Side Story meets Home Alone. Actually, neither of those are really accurate representations...

I've been studying math. Friday nights, Saturdays, basically anytime anyone else was doing anything fun. Oh, so much math. My review was comprised of: basic arithmetic functions, word problems, algebra, geometry - all your old friends from junior high and beyond! Improper fractions! Quadratic equations! My motive? I think I'll let you draw your own conclusions... (menacing laughter)

Fires. Have you read the news? Yeah, the fires haven't really affected me at all personally. But it all makes for a nasty commute - yet another reason there were delays posting to The Heathernet!

I could go on and on, but as I said, this really is not the time nor the place to go over excuses for my lapse over the past few months. Oh, AND I am helping plan my dad's surprise 70th birthday this weekend (don't worry, he's not a Heathernet reader), AND I am going to New York the weekend after that, so yeah, like I said - busy. Anyway, what's important is: we're all here now, The Heathernet is back in fall production, and hopefully we can pick up with the same high standard of quality where we left off: with blogs like this!

Coming Attractions: Heather blogs about her impending first trip to New York(!)
Includes such highlights as: Heather gets mugged and run over by a yellow cab!

If it wasn't for bacon...

2007-07-24T21:23:00.000-04:00

...lettuce and tomato would try to pass themselves off as sufficient sandwich filling. Not on my watch!

...pigs would run overrun our cities and urban centers like giant flightless pigeons

...what would dogs have to look forward to?

...I could be a vegetarian (ok, this one's a stretch)

...I would probably have flung myself out the window today. I may still, but the bacon at least staved off immediate death.
I'm having an unhappy, bad mood, everything-is-no-good day. Lest you think The Heathernet is all sunshine and rainbows and bowling, news flash people: it most certainly is not. It's a reflection of LIFE, and that means dealing with the harsh reality that sometimes that means shittiness. Deal with it!

Thankfully, today's crap-awfulness was mitigated by the helpful presence of bacon.

The delicious, greasy, crispy bacon that found it's way into my sandwich also nuzzled its way into my heart. Bacon: you are a marvel. Dejected as I was, the fatty bacon molecules somehow reached the happiness receptors in my brain, at least enough to keep me from running screaming from the building. Today.

I do think it's important to remember what simple things can keep your spirits up when you are feeling down. In this particular case, my BLTA. As fun as it can be to wallow (and I mean fun in the most self-pitying of ways), I don't know that it does anything to solve whatever issues ye be plagued by. Bah. Yeah, I know that in my mind, but right now wallowing seems like the best way to occupy my time.

Buuuut, I suppose it does no good to sit alone pouting in my misery. Heavy Sigh. Is that going to help me get where I want to be? No. So until then, happiness via bacon or whatever other little joys there are will have to be enough to sustain me through this harrowing time. Being grateful for the positive things in life.

Like the fact that LA is not beset by wild boars.

It's BACON!!!!!!!!!!!

4th! 4th! 4th!

2007-07-03T13:55:00.000-04:00

Go 'merica!

I thought that perhaps after announcing my dual-citizenship, or posting this entry comparing one great American President to one not-so-awesome current Head Chief in Charge, some Heathernet patrons might find this blog to be inflammatory, or even unpatriotic. Well, this is simply not so! And to prove it, this blog entry is dedicated to things I Love About America:

In 'n' Out Burger
NPR
hot dogs (just try eating them in a foreign country)
modern plumbing
labor laws (even if they're not always upheld *ahem* - having them around makes me feel a little better)
I like the beach. I like mountains. I like greenspace.
Thanksgiving! (duh)
The freedom that allows me to watch whatever movies I want, to join a cult if I so choose, and write this blog.
This commercial

Admittedly, I was initially bummed about the 4th's unfortunate midweek position this year. I get one measly day off and then have to turn right around and come back to work?! But - here is another way of looking at it: I have two two-day workweeks this week - and like, three weekends! Now that is what I call looking on the bright side! [Let's dismiss the fact that my nemeses in the TV department allegedly also get Thursday and Friday off...] Anyway, it's not the AMOUNT of time, but the QUALITY of the time, am I right?? Ehh, sure.....

In any case,

Happy Independence Day!

I am not dead yet... and bowling news

2007-06-26T14:50:00.000-04:00

Man, from the last entry on the ol' Heathernet, my faithful following probably thought I had perished from my debilitating illness.....

NOT SO!

Because here I am, alive!

I mean, I am at work, so take from that what you will.

Sorry to have neglected The Heathernet, but I have been unfathomably busy. What with work, my social calendar, bowling...

Oh, what's that? Yes, you read right: BOWLING HAS BEGUN.

So far it is super fantastic! I mean, my team isn't winning per se, but since I am in charge of the league, I am really more focused on the greater good. Like making sure everyone pays up. Most people have, but it may be skull-cracking time pretty soon for those who haven't! (I may not even give those delinquent on payment a warning. Why not? Eh, well, I feel like maybe some leg-breaking practice might not be so bad for me.)

I mean, the importance of payment is not so much for me, as I have nothing personal to gain from the league except the envious glares from other, inferior-uniformed bowlers. It's for the children. Because while we are bowling for fun, our other focus will be helping impoverished kids and shit (to paraphrase a wise man).

In other bowling news, I need to step up my game. I think my high this season (and granted, its only been two weeks) is a 118. Fine for amateur status, but now that I am the commish? Time to get motherfucking serious: I need to link more strikes, pick up those spares! If anyone else can offer concrete advice, I'm all ears.

So, in conclusion: sighs of relief, all around, I am alive, and may we conquer our foes tonight on the lanes!

the illest

2007-06-06T15:08:00.000-04:00

hi loyal Heathernet readers,

I'm sick. :(

This is my plaintive cry to all of you for pity and sympathy. Let the record show that through this debilitating illness, my first thought turned to you, dear patrons, and my blog.

I am congested. My throat is sore. I am feverish and weak. And through it all, here I am. Blogging for you.

Last night I had some Thai wonton soup. It was fantastic. The aromatic broth healed my spirit. Apparently it did little for my physical being. I feel like shite.

Oh, this blog is boring? Well f you then. I am sick.

Tho I suppose I am also delirious. I guess I could share with you some of my fever-induced delusions, and that might provide some entertainment. Last night I had a Nyquil fueled vision that I was in Paris, living in an apartment styled after an old French New Wave film and there was a revolution taking place outside my window. There were also cats in my new apartment. I am allergic to cats. One of them had an ear that was tore up and looked mangy. Feral? I decided they could stay. I thought, hm, I could probably take some allergy medicine to deal with these cats. My new life as a French revolutionary!

Does my dream mean that living in France is the same as being infirm? Ugh. Pray for me, readers...

O Flower of Scotland...

2007-05-22T16:17:00.000-04:00

Exciting news!

I am an official U.K. citizen!

After years of delays due to paperwork, procrastination, red tape, bureaucracy, lost birth records, and questionable passport photos, The Heathernet goes British!

I found out a few years ago that even though I am American born, since my Dad is a Scotsman, I had the ability to apply for citizenship in the U.K., enabling me to live and work anywhere in the European Union. Yes, tiny Malta, this now includes you! So, I asked my Dad if we could look into this. This proved to be a long and arduous process, involving many forms, photocopies, and the retrieval of countless records, including my Dad's 1937 birth record from Crieff, the second largest city in Perthshire! (For those curious, picturesque Crieff boasts a population of almost 6000 people and has been a holiday destination since the Victorian Era!)

In any case, the point is that after two plus years of effort + waiting, I now possess the coveted BRITISH PASSPORT!

Besides being able to seek employment in hospitable European countries, here are some other things I can do now that I am under the Queen's rule:

Write words with their "correct" English spelling: eg. neighbour, colour. Ditto for pronunciation. Aluminium! And, No more silent H for you, "herbs"!
And along those lines, increased profanity vocab: Shite. Bugger. Arse. Wanker.
Eat meat pies freely without enduring the damning judgment of others. I just like meat in pastry, ok??
"Sorry boss, I can't finish that memo for you right now. It's tea time."
Finally I can justify having a bagpiper at every special occasion! Future invitations will also encourage kilts.
Sing lewd and rowdy rugby songs in the pub with my mates. Initiate/participate in bar fights as necessary.

I'm so excited about my new dual-citizenship status, I couldn't be more chuffed! (You see what I did there?) Fellow Britons, you can now count me among your brethren, you lucky people! Now to await the opportunity to utilise my new all-access-pass across the pond and beyond...

God save the Queen.

BOWLING BULLETIN!

2007-05-18T15:49:00.000-04:00

The light of a new day is upon us.

The sleepy administration behind the timeworn Jesus Quintana Bowling League is retiring, and stepping up to fill their regulation shoes?

The New Bowling Initiative Coalition of Fun!

I mean, me! And my friends!

At last! We will be privvy to the inner workings of the bowling league and uncover the mysteries and conspiracies of days gone by! No longer will teams be allowed to sandbag their handicaps under the protection of a shady league office! We will be there, illuminating the lanes with our morally upright standards of righteousness! Finally, there will be high-fiving for all!

Team slots are filling up quickly. Our first game is in a few weeks. If you're a bowler, not a shifty-eyed cheater, and have 3 equally enthused pals predisposed to drinking and throwing heavy objects, then perhaps you would be interested in participating? Let me know.

Ah, the promise of a new day. The lanes look shinier already.

My Favorite President

2007-04-26T21:15:00.000-04:00

PSYCH!

Hahaha, gotcha! Btw, in looking for photos to post for this intro "prank", I came across this photo, of President Bush and his wife participating in a colorful Malaria Awareness Day event in the Rose Garden:

Yeah.

I mean, not to make light of malaria, which is certainly a serious disease that warrants attention and funding, but... am I missing something? This is the leader of the free world. During wartime. Doesn't he have other shit he needs to be dealing with? Like, I don't know, the unending war in Iraq, global warming, guns in schools, the economy... and by the way, can someone explain to me how this little dance party is furthering efforts against malaria?

Sigh. By contrast, think of your favorite president. Maybe it's JFK. Maybe it's Abraham Lincoln. Now look at the photo above. Is this something your favorite president would be doing?

Which brings me to my actual favorite president, who would certainly not be caught messing around with conga drums while there was shit going down in America:

motherfucking THEODORE ROOSEVELT!

Now, this, this is the type of guy I want leading my country. Theodore Roosevelt is an undeniable badass. Oh, what's that? The Spanish-American War? Oh, I'm not just going to talk about it like some pansy-ass politician - I'm gathering up a group of volunteer soldiers, and we're all going down to Cuba to straighten shit out. Maybe you've heard of the Rough Riders? That was all TR. Probably the only group from the early 1900's to be adopted by the modern-day rap community.

TR was progressive for a Republican, and party members regarded him as a bit of a "loose cannon". But he was popular with The People; he was a war hero. The Republicans thought the best course of action would be to put him on McKinley's ticket as VP, where he could help drum up popular support but couldn't cause too much trouble. So McKinley got elected. And then McKinley got shot. So guess who that made our 26th president? In your face, stodgy 1900's political machinists!

As president, TR really took care of shit. His motto? "Talk softly and carry a big stick." Do you know what that means? It means, yeah motherfucker, I'm not going to threaten you per se, but I think you know and I know that I could totally kick your ass if I wanted to. So don't mess. Inherently, its actually a message of pacifism! Like, I'm not going to start the fight, but if you start one with me I'm going to finish it. What.

My man Teddy was a noted conservationist. Do you enjoy nature? Well guess who is responsible for instituting protection for some of our most treasured national resources? Damn straight, motherfucking TR. He protected more land (designating national parks and nature preserves) than all former U.S. presidents combined, to the tune of 194 million acres. Here he is in a photo with John Muir, first president of the Sierra Club. This was taken in Yosemite, where Muir invited Roosevelt to go on an extensive hiking tour. Thanks to TR and people like John Muir, we have maintained refuges away from places like the Beverly Center, and the 405 freeway.

Remember when you wanted to go from Boston to San Francisco via sea, but the only way to get there was to go ALL the way around the tip of South America? It took FOREVER! But then came a little innovation I like to call "The Panama Canal". And that's what they called it, The Panama Canal! What a brilliant solution! Thanks again, Theodore Roosevelt.

TR read a book a day. He wrote 40 books. He led cabinet members on long, fast-paced hikes. He won a Nobel Peace Prize. He was a teetotaler. He boxed in the state rooms of the White House. During one such boxing bout, he was permanently blinded in his left eye. After serving 8 years as president, he went on a year-long African safari. He was shot by some lunatic but survived - and not only did he give his scheduled speech immediately after just being shot, but the bullet remained in his body until his death. I mean, come ON. The guy was a machine!

And he cared, passionately, about doing good for his country. You may agree or disagree with the specifics of his politics, but this was a leader who genuinely wanted to put the people's interests first. He was engaged and interested in life. He was a great leader. And that's why he is my all-time favorite president. And that's why he's on Mount Rushmore (and you're not, Andrew Jackson, you Native American slaughtering prick).

I hope you enjoyed today's blog. I realize it is essentially a 5th grade history project with a couple cuss words for fun. But I never went to 5th grade. So there! Give it up for TR!

Loretta haikus

2007-04-24T21:33:00.000-04:00

Please get better soon
I need you to pass the smog
five bills poorer; shit

No car is no fun
kindness of coworker pals
now I owe favors

Is Midas crooked?
Did they charge me too much scrill?
Note: learn about cars

C is for Cookie

2007-04-18T18:15:00.000-04:00

I had P.F. Chang's for lunch the other day. Whereupon, I realized. I have a gripe with fortune cookies. First of all, let's get this out of the way: are they delicious? Would I eat them if not for the promise of a mystical fortune inside? My verdict: nay. Without the potential for getting a glimpse into my future, I would much rather opt for some version of dessert that is actually palatable, like say, a lemon bar, or banana cream pie. Not a dry cookie with the consistency of compressed wood. And would it kill the fortune cookie people to mix up the flavor? I don't even know what to call that. Nilla Wafer lite? What benefit do I have in eating this? It is neither healthy nor delicious. What does the cookie part of the fortune cookie do for me?? Nothing.

So, as explicated above, we've concluded that the cookie part of the fortune cookie is essentially worthless. We're getting somewhere! Stop bitching, crack the thing open, take the fortune, leave the cookie. Done. Well, that's all fine and good, but sometime long ago in my youth, someone once informed me that in order for your fortune to come true, you have to eat the entire thing. You leave a crumb, your fortune is void. I still have no idea what they had to gain from this sadistic piece of advice.

So I eat the cookie. For the fortune. And here in lies my real problem with fortune cookies.

My fortune reads:

"You have an open heart of love and acceptance."

Well that's fucking delightful, but where is the fortune in that? This tells me nothing! I mean, that's great about my open heart and all, but what is this telling me? I don't ask for fortune cookies giving me compliments. I don't want to know that I am a person of wisdom and principle. I want to know the future!!

I eat the cookie anyway. I don't want my lame fortune to be renegged and all of a sudden for my heart to become closed-minded and prejudiced. Stupid cookie. I'm annoyed. Emily, my coworker, notices, and gets me another fortune cookie and one for herself. Hers is equally disappointing:

"He who hurries can not walk with dignity."

Thanks for the tip, cookie. Thanks for proffering this important piece of "life advice". Again, if I wanted advice, I would turn to Ann Landers. Know your role! You exist to tell me the future!

I open my second cookie.

"You will make extensive travels and find great prosperity."

Now this is what I'm talking about! Yes! I get to go on a trip AND I get untold riches? I like this fortune. All fortunes should be like this. And it can be bad news too, as long as its like a "heads up". Like, "Be wary of a mysterious gift at this time" or "Call in sick for work tomorrow". I like those too. Because they are fortunes. And now, when I receive said ominous gift, I will know what kind of action to take!

So, in conclusion, I say this to you, fortune cookies. If you would like to improve your status in the cookie and general dessert realm, then I suggest you take heed and follow this fortune. A little more clairvoyance, a little less moralizing, and we should get along fine.

That Guy

2007-04-09T22:28:00.000-04:00

Flying blows.

Last night on my way home from SF, I was smushed into a middle seat on a completely full-flight between two strangers circa 10:30 pm. Not ideal, but fine. I can deal. What I was not prepared for, however, was what would ensue.

One row behind me, and one seat over by the aisle, would soon be seated: That Guy.

That Guy struts down the center aisle of the plane talking on his cellphone at about 10 decibels above the customarily acceptable "inside voice". Every captive passenger along his path has no choice but to hear his entire conversation, comprised mainly of him reveling in how trashed he is at this exact moment. He has a trucker hat on. I check my calendar; it is 2007.

After the flight attended informed That Guy that he couldn't use his phone any longer, he got acquainted with his neighbors, the people seated directly behind me. He would not stop for a breath of air until... well, I am not sure when he stopped for air because he was still going strong when I got off the plane in LA. Without the benefit of earphones during takeoff and landing, my brain was exposed to a dangerously unhealthy amount of TG's ramblings.

Some of my favorite quotes from the flight:

"I'm an actor, but my main focus is saving animals and shit"

"I'm on Entourage next week - you should watch!"

"Watch me on Entourage next week!"

"Do you get HBO?"

"So I paid the cab driver ten bucks to smoke weed in the cab. And that's why I don't have any now, because we smoked it all, so I'm like, fuck it, I'll fly home. But I haven't flown in like, 7 years because you can't bring pot on the plane. I got in trouble for that the last time I flew, and they were like, gnarly. And I only had a quarter, you know? I didn't think it was a big deal because it was like, 'dude, it's a quarter'. But I remember when people used to just RAGE on the plane, smoke, get fucked up, nobody gave a fuck"*
"I think she's so hot. I'm going to talk to her when we land. Like, 'hey, I think you're really pretty, I'm really bummed we didn't get to talk more on the flight...'" Re: the stewardess
Stewardess: "Please place your tray tables down if you would like beverage service."
*LOUD BANG*
[apparently TG's tray is now down]
TG: "Hahahaha. She said to put my tray down, fuck yeah I want a drink!"
"Hey, are you guys on MySpace?"
"How old are you? Do you guys rage? I bet you just rage!"
"I love you guys. No, really, you saved me, I was a mess. I love you."

Air travel has become untenable. With the delays at security, carry-on restrictions (I bid farewell to my $40 facewash because I was late to the airport and couldn't check my bag), the crowds, the ever-diminishing legroom, threats of terrorism, crying children, and That Guy, is there no more peace?

I miss my friendly skies.

*Because he would not stop talking, I later learned that my fellow passenger was 31 years old, 4 years older than me. That would have made him all of 13 at the height of the 80's, when smoking was banned from commercial flights. And already: an enviable rage-aholic! Party on!

Enjoy the hair

2007-04-02T20:45:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, I bid farewell to my hair. 12 inches of my hair. Sigh. Since it was for a good cause, I am fine with it looking less than optimal for a little while. Plus, hair grows, it's good to embrace change, blah blah blah.

So, knowing I was going to go drastically short, I still wanted something a little hip. I showed my hairdresser a couple pictures of modern celebrities such as Rachel McAdams, Jennifer Aniston, even JLo got in there for ideas!

Let the record show my hair looks nothing like any of these people.

Anyway, what this means is that for the moment, I am sporting a classic look you should all be familiar with. No, not that tired "Rachel", but something a shade more timeless and enduring.

Oh, you'd like to see a picture? OK...

ready?

I give you: The Hamill!

A little background. The Hamill is of course named for prolific ice skating champion Dorothy Hamill, who won the gold medal at the 1976 Winter Olympics. However, what took the world by storm, was not only her championship-worthy skating style, but her revolutionary 'do! People were mesmerized at how it managed to stay completely unmussed despite Hamill's execution of challenging double-axles and the like. Upon landing, the hair would whip right back into place! Miraculous!

I certainly hope that my new cut will serve me with the same kind of memory technology this Nasa-like hairstyle seems to employ. While its importance is sometimes downplayed, it is nonetheless crucial for my hair to remain exactly as coiffed amidst my phone-jockeying duties here in the office.

What's that? You want an actual photo? Hm, maybe soon as an update. I just don't know if I am ready, the sting of the haircut is still a bit fresh. Admittedly, it's not quite as short as Dot's, but I am still not sure if I am ready to post online. I salute you, Dorothy, for being braver than I, and bringing this hairstyle to the world.

And hey, hopefully some poor kid will enjoy wearing my old hair sometime soon! I may not be able to bring home the gold from Innsbruck, but I can still try to do my part.

*Update 4/2 8:45pm: fuck it. enjoy.

Recycling update!

2007-03-27T17:31:00.000-04:00

The greatest thing ever has happened to the corner of Olympic and Robertson. I never have to visit the crappy recycling center at Vons ever again!

But let me start at the beginning.

Several months ago, a rundown crappy gas station I never went to was closed and the area was totally curtained off from the street, hidden from view! For months, they worked on this mystery construction on the southeast corner of Olympic and Robertson. I had to pass by it everyday, wondering: What new neighborhood jewel will I be greeted with when this is done? Will it sell macaroni and cheese? Will it delight me with that frozen yogurt from Japan am I so inexplicably addicted to? Or will it just be a refurbished gas emporium? Then, after months of speculation, they unveiled THIS:

THE HELIOS HOUSE.

What is this monstrosity, you ask?

It's a gas station. But, as their billboards tout, "a little better". I will admit, upon my first drive-by, I was indifferent. What's the big deal? It's still a gas station, just with cute buttons and green glowing lights. It looks like LAX had a baby with the Disney Concert Hall. Where's my mac and cheese?

I mean, I "got it". It was meant to be like, an eco-station, environmentally beneficial, and all that. But as far as I could tell, it was still selling regular petrol at regular prices. Still bored.

Last night, as my gas light reminded me it had been glowing for 20-odd miles, I relented. FINE, I thought, I will go to your farce of an earth-friendly gas station, but only because I have to buy fuel anyway.

So I filled up Loretta with some 87 (I'm not made of money, people) and as I did, a handsome, articulate BP employee was graciously giving a couple of people a tour of the facilities.

I'm sorry, did I say handsome? Like, probably the best looking person to ever grace the full-service side of the pump.

So he is giving them a tour, and he tells them, oh, and you can bring all your recyclables here too: and indicates a recycling center right there (mind you, two blocks from my front door) for plastics and bottles, paper, etc. And then he looks up at me and says, hey, and you can too!

I certainly can!

I also did a little more investigation, and they also recycle cell phones there, the roof is made with solar panels, they have irrigation systems in place to channel rainwater for use (like we get rain in LA, but still, nice idea), the paint has reduced toxins, and the whole place is made up with lots of recyclable and sustainable materials. Still a ways off from improving the nature of what they are actually selling, it is nonetheless a step in the right direction as far as getting people to be environmentally conscious and a major improvement over what was there before.

Did I mention the gas attendant was not only well-spoken but highly attractive?

Needless to say, I will be returning to the Helios House.

Find out more here.

I Heart The Train!

2007-03-19T20:05:00.000-04:00

Whenever I go visit friends in San Diego, my preferred method of transportation is via train.

Specifically, the Pacific Surfliner, pictured above pulling into sunny downtown San Diego. I love the train for so many reasons, I wonder if just one blog entry can even do it justice. But I can try. For the train, I will try.

First, there is the beautiful Union Station in downtown Los Angeles: In the midst of the accountants, crackheads, and rats (yes, folks, LA has rats - I've seen them) that populate downtown Los Angeles, there is this magnificent building. Which is only more support for my burgeoning love for/obsession with downtown LA. Look at it! It's gorgeous!

I like looking at the board with the arrivals and departures as if I am a foreign backpacker making my way around the country. I usually sit in one of the old leather chairs and read while waiting for my call for departure.

Which brings me to my next point: productivity! I am all about maximizing my limited free time, and the train fits that mandate wonderfully. If I was driving on the 405, my supplementary activities would be limited to listening to the radio and/or talking on the celly. There would also be the threat of debilitating traffic. However, while I am on the train, I can do whatever I want! I can read, write correspondence, eat, drink (folks: they sell beer and wine on board! Not that I am at liberty to indulge at the moment...), sleep, work on my needlepoint (if I knew how or was so inclined) - really, there are limitless possibilities. And if you want to do NOTHING - there is always the beautiful Pacific Ocean right outside your window so you can sit and stare and contemplate the nature of Man.

Here's another brilliant point - one more person on the train (me) equals one less car on the road (Loretta). The passengers on the train are effectively working to save the environment! Mass transit works! And unlike the airport, where you have to get there all early, check your baggage, get your liquids confiscated, traverse across terminals, blah blah blah, there is none of that at the train station! You get there, you check in, and you are on your train. For this you require maybe 10 minutes. The train gets me to San Diego in about the same amount of time it would take me to drive.

The train does not come without it's drawbacks, however, outlined below:

Prohibitive cost. A roundtrip ticket from LA to Solana Beach (north SD) will run you about $46. Add to that parking at Union Station, which is about $6 per day. Sadly, gas is more economical.
Train's getting popular. Fridays and Sundays are especially crowded. This weekend I had to sit backwards from LA, and I sat with a "new companion" on the way back. Not ideal train-riding conditions for me, but still not enough to put me off the idea either. Business class is always an option to ensure greater comfort and exclusivity, but that brings us back to the first bullet.

So, for now, the train remains a "special treat" that I like to indulge in when I know I have the extra cash, and when I can ride at non-peak times to avoid the masses. I love it! The adventures you can have on the train! You can meet new friends (I met some Heineken-drinking 19-year old Marines on this last trip - Hi Tony). On my birthday, the conductor gave me a FREE upgrade to business class, where I kicked up my feet with a complimentary bottle of the finest in twist-off-cap wine. Thank you, Pacific Surfliner, Amtrak, and locomotive lovers everywhere - and long live the train!

The Hump

2007-03-14T03:10:00.000-04:00

What an incredibly suggestive title! How I would love to increasingly pepper my everyday speech with "clever" sexual innuendo like this, and then react with puritanical shock when called out on said innnuendo. "NO! I am not talking about humping, you dirty blog readers!" But the disappointing reality is I am probably just too inhibited to talk even referentially about such things anyway. I do get fretfully giggly when people talk overtly about (SEX)! My own hangup, I suppose... So the title of the blog actually just refers to the fact that I am over halfway done with my Lenten sobriety quest. "Over the hump", as they say. Which makes this camel photo all the more appropriate. Not only does he have a hump, you see, but he is also traversing across a dry, arid desert. Like me! He's dry. And not drinking. You see?

So, not that I am counting, per se, but I do believe I am somewhere around Day 20/21... fabulous, no? This weekend should be an especially challenging one. There are a myriad of drinking events all centered around the celebration of dear St. Patrick.

Last year, I spent St. Patty's in Savannah, Georgia, which boasts the 2nd largest celebration in the U.S. outside of Boston. It's true - google it! Legions of green-clad, would-be Leprechauns all drinking unhealthy amounts of green beer on River Street. I went to visit my cousin and spent a long weekend amongst the mainly Southern revelers. Lots of fun. This year, it's even on a Saturday, adding to the potential mayhem.

I think the good thing is it's not like I have felt tempted so far, or even like I need to be drinking... which is good. And I have been going out, to various funtime events at which I would normally have a drink or 7. Like, last weekend, I went out till all hours at some fun bars, a downtown warehouse party, and danced around like a drunken fool - only not drunken! Which... I suppose just makes me a fool. But, I still had a blast.

Point being, I expect this weekend should be no different. Me - still being foolish, wearing green, dancing around, and all that. Maybe the only thing I WILL strive for is more spicy allusions and sexual overtones...

Like: "I'd sure like to find HIS pot of gold..."

Eh? Eh??

I'll work on it.

productive things accomplished this weekend:

2007-02-27T18:38:00.000-05:00

Checked out new bar/gastropub The Village Idiot on Melrose and Martel. I like. Except that it's a little too bright/ loud for me to be sipping on the Arnold Palmer I was denied earlier in the week. We leave before last call.

Picked up new desk from furniture store downtown w/ help of generous truck-owning comrade. It looks so good in my room, all my existing furniture feels embarrassed by comparison.

Attended baby shower. With gift. Très responsible. Fortuitously, I missed this part of the party:Yep, it's beer in those baby bottles. Does anyone else find it the least bit disturbing that only men are competing in this contest? Totally sexist. Things would be soo different if I were not teetotaling this month... sigh...

Stayed in to read on Saturday night. Who says abstaining from alcohol affects your social life!

Got a facial! Thank you, ex-lover-I-no-longer-talk-to, for the gift certificate to Burke Williams which I would like you to know I have been enjoying immensely.

Attended a small Academy Award gathering complete with cucumber sandwiches and hyperactive dog aptly named Oscar.

aaaand still sober.

Day 7.

The Other Side

2007-02-22T22:22:00.000-05:00

Day 2 of the Sobriety Manifesto. So far, so good.

Last night I went to Kenne's birthday party at the new Busby's on Wilshire just west of La Brea.

btw, I'm purportedly stone cold sober in the pic above. I know. Frightening, isn't it.

Anyway, back to Busby's. In my mind, no argument is strong enough to convince me that Busby's was a franchise that deserved to be cloned from its fratty incarnation in Santa Monica. But the bar was admittedly, fine, not overly crowded, and (here's the important part): they had a foosball table!

More establishments should have foosball tables. You don't see them very often in LA. I know of one at Barney's Beanery, which I generally try to avoid because I feel it represents evil. The problem is, some people mistake Barney's Beanery for a "cool" dive bar. People: it's not. I like dive bars. Barney's Beanery is a Hollywoodesque faux-dive that falls under the same classification as such offensive establishments as Miyagis and Saddle Ranch. You should already be familiar with the client base; girls who carry dogs in purses do not go to dive bars. It is my theory that between the three bars in this cheesy trifecta exists the exact location where the Von Dutch trucker hat rose to power back in 2002. (Who remembers 2002! I do!)

Anyway, so I am in Busby's, completely sober, and not even convinced that alcohol would improve my opinon of the place. I try to keep my spirits up by ordering an Arnold Palmer (a "fun" sober bevvie! caffeine and sugar!). They can not accomodate me. I get a sparkling water. Yay.

And then, we spot it: the foosball table! That will be my salvation!

I'm really good at foosball. No, really. I am. Challenge me. I will beat you. I beat boys. Overconfident ones, at that. I beat rugby players in Scotland. I cannot throw darts, I cannot play pool, but I can kick your ass at foosball. Let me put it this way, I am more confident about my foosball skills than my bowling skills, and by now if you have been reading The Heathernet AT ALL, you should know I take my bowling very seriously.

So foosball! I love it. It saved me. I got thoroughly hydrated, played a few rounds, and destroyed the morale of my competitors. All without the benefit of alcohol!

So what's the moral of the story? Well, Kenne didn't make it into work this morning. And good for him, it was his damn birthday, after all. But me? I went home, read a script, and woke up at my normal time, 20 minutes after the alarm goes off. So... success! 1 night down, just 39 to go...

brace yourself: The Sobriety Manifesto!

2007-02-15T20:05:00.000-05:00

Supportive Heathernet readers, a day you thought might never come. It is a new era, and continuing the newest phase of my life (namely, total all-encompassing maturity) I have made an important decision:

I am giving up alcohol for Lent!

Yes, everything. No beer. No wine. No vodka. (ohh, delicious vodka!) Not even soju, tho I agree, it hardly counts... Now, you may wonder, what brought on this extreme exercise in piety? Well, as much as I love Jesus, this isn't really about him. I actually don't think JC minds terribly if I have a drink; after all, you may remember him from such fame as Turning-Water-Into-Wine!, and referring to that infamous goblet of wine as "the cup of my blood". By contrast, when my blood has turned to wine, it's more in reference to my BAC rendering me incapable of operating an automobile than any sign of divinity...

I am taking a break from the sauce for reasons beyond the Catholic mandate of sacrifice for the 40 days of Lent. To me, Lent is actually providing a handy little frame of time for something I would like to try anyway: getting by without alcohol. As you may have inferred from numerous other posts on The Heathernet, I have had an intimate relationship with the drink through the years. And over that period of time, we've certainly had our ups and downs. When it's good, it's great, but when it's bad, it's very, VERY bad. Like the time I told that officer in Santa Barbara that I didn't give a Fuck if he called my parents to tell them how I was spending my college education... Or the time I very publicly yelled at a former flame and accused him of being completely devoid of feelings... Or that time in San Diego/ Las Vegas/ Yourtown, USA... see, somehow I'm not convinced I would do these things if I were sober.

I use alcohol all the time, for my social life, my love life, professionally (no, not at work - yet - but certainly networking, etc.), to relax, to improve my dancing... I just want to know I can get by without it.

Drastic? I don't think so. I'm looking forward to my experiment as a teetotaler. I hope it will bring an interesting change in perspective. I hope I can trade my hangovers for increased productivity. I hope I can save money, lose the beer gut, sleep better, and maybe, just maybe, gain some focus. But not, of course, without sacrifice...

This delightful period of time begins on Wed, Feb 21st. So if you are on the lookout for a designated driver, feel free to give me a call after that point! But not before. After all, its a 3-day weekend, and I'll probably be at the bar mentally preparing for the journey ahead. ;)

Dumplings!

2007-01-29T19:31:00.000-05:00

Ohhhh, how I heart dim sum!!

Are you fortunate enough to know what dim sum is? It's delicious, is what it is. Bascially, for the uninitiated, dim sum is a brunchtime treat of little Chinese snackies, dumplings, steamed buns, and fried stuff (fried stuff!) all dipped in your own combination of soy and chili sauce and washed down with unlimited piping hot tea. Impatient and usually incomprehensible (unless of course, you speak Cantonese) Chinese ladies walk carts around with their various offerings and you pick and choose the ones that you want. You can have your table laden with goodies in minutes. You continue to collect trays upon trays of food until you can not eat another bite. It's truly something quite magnificent.

My favorite places for dim sum are in San Francisco. Yank Sing and Ton Kiang. They are a little more expensive than other dim sum places, but said to rival the top places in Hong Kong, where the dim sum is purported to be at it's apex. I'm still eagerly awaiting the opportunity to verify this claim for myself.....

So, yesterday, in an effort to find the most excellent dim sum in the area, four friends and I took a trek out to San Gabriel Valley for some fine feasting. This is the heart of dim sum dining in the greater LA area. Now, I had been to a couple dim sum places in LA before, and been disappointed compared to what I was used to up north. However, in this instance I-wanted-some-damn-dumplings-and-I-wanted-them-now! so I was willing to go in with an open mind. For this weekend's outing, Theo recommended NBC Seafood.

All of the big dim sum compounds are designed in much the same way: with high volume in mind. The places are palatial. We got to the place around 11 am, and pulled a numbered ticket, like waiting in line at a deli. There are mad people there, and predominantly Asian. Young, old, babies, invalids..... all waiting for their moment of glory within the fortress of food. We wait. I think about 40 minutes pass. I am with four dudes, all starving. I mean, I can't lie, I'm pretty famished myself. After minute 20, I think someone in our group goes up to check if our number has been called every 2 minutes. Finally, finally!, we get the signal. Our table is ready.

Let the eating commence! Off to a tearing start, it's an ordering frenzy. Among the treats we sampled: shrimp in rice noodles, pork short ribs with rice, roast duck with plum sauce, fried turnip cake, pork buns, the ubiquitous siu mai dumplings (pork dumplings, pictured right), also-popular har gow (shrimp dumplings, pictured above), shrimp fried in seaweed, and scallop dumplings. The only notable absence for me was the fried taro, one of my all-time favorite dim sum staples, which they informed us they had run out of.

We start slowing down.
No one wants to admit defeat. The rookies drop out first, I think due to their zeal, then Eric Luther Ling and I start to get full, still reaching out for the occasional bite of pork bun or crispy shrimp. However, in the end, the clear winner was Theo, who had enough room to consume a bowl of preserved-egg porridge and still be able to share some mango pudding with me.

So the dim sum in Monterey Park was a resounding success! We all left full to capacity, our happy bellies stuffed with dumpling goodness. And the total cost of this awesomeness? $13 per person, including tax and generous tip. $13! For the amount we ate, that is criminally cheap. So the next Saturday or Sunday morning you are pondering how best to relieve your hangover haze, might I suggest some medicinal tea and a metric ton of Chinese delicacies. Just travel due east on the 10 towards the SGV, or head towards your nearest respective Chinatown equivalent. I promise you will not regret it. Hooray for dumplings!

concert in review: Justin!

2007-01-12T18:02:00.000-05:00

I like to think I have decent taste in music. I mean, everyone likes to imagine they do, right? I like a pretty wide range of music, and I think I am open to a lot. However, there are definitely musical groups that make it into my rotation that I am not entirely proud of. I don't have a huge appetite for cheesy, but certain songs and/or "artists" (I don't mean to abuse the term) just hit the spot for me. I'm sorry! I like Kelly Clarkson! I like that annoyingly catchy Beyoncé song! And yes, sometimes I dance around in my room alone to Mariah Carey. I know, it's embarrassing, you're probably going to cancel your trips to The Heathernet, and I can't say I blame you. I am ashamed. I do draw the line at anything Fergalicious, but again, it's a thin line, and I don't even know if I could tell you where it starts or stops. [btw, sharing the Mariah Carey thing is huge for me. I hope you appreciate that and will keep that in mind to reconsider coming back to The Heathernet.]

Teetering somewhere along this fine line is Justin Timberlake.
You may remember him as the young gentleman currently bringing sexy back. On Tuesday night, I shared an intimate evening with Justin and approximately 18,000 screaming ladies in Anaheim, California. Never have I been in such a concentrated throng of women, much less ones so acutely focused on a singular goal: sleeping with Justin Timberlake.

I am assuming that most of his fan base present were grown-up versions of the N'SYNC fans Justin had accumulated at the beginning of the millenium. So the 11-year-old prepubescent in 1999 was now the supremely mature 19-year-old coed. Being that the show was in Anaheim, also consider the effect of the Orange-County-dynamic to the make up of the audience. And the additional info that Justin and Cameron have just called it quits. So, you have the 19-year-old OC girl who imagines she is going home with JT after the concert. From what I could tell, this was your typical audience member.

And while my girlfriends and I all obviously enjoyed the 2+ hours of JT time, surprisingly captivated by his experience there was my friend's boyfriend. I mean, here you are, in an arena normally home to hockey games and other demonstrations of masculine sportsmanship, now occupied by literally, thousands of fanatic, rabid young ladies. If I felt that the environment was all a bit surreal, how was he holding up? I tried to gauge if he looked uncomfortable or bored, but he looked engaged in the whole affair. I imagine it must have been like secret access to girl world, like sneaking into a gigantic sorority. And I think he enjoyed being privvy to all this; as you might surmise, the people watching was pretty rich.

And JT himself? I can tell you this: the man is talented. He can sing, he can move, he can play the electronic keyboard like a guitar! He was on stage bopping around for over 2 hours, sending out sexy vibes the entire time! I was exhausted and I was sitting down half the time. He played almost every conceivable song in his repertoire, except maybe his laudable classic, Dick in a Box. Given his wide range of skills and dedicated showmanship, I should have no problem owning up to the fact that I love him. And neither should my friend's boyfriend, or anyone else for that matter! In fact, maybe I can inspire others to own up to their particular taste for what they consider embarrassing tunes, because it happens to the best of us. So you secretly love R. Kelly? I may not be able to support your decision, but I can encourage you: go ahead and admit it.

fuck magic.

2007-01-03T20:09:00.000-05:00

I have a serious issue with magicians. I don't like them. But why?, you ask, magic is so innocuous, so entertaining! Well, for starters, they are cheesy as fuck. Exhibit A, on the right. Yes guy, you truly look powerful summoning the properties of water and fire and your pleather pants to mystically suspend your lady friend over your head. Look at that smug look of achievement and confidence; he really looks convinced that he has in fact been endowed with supreme magical powers.

Which leads me to one of my main issues with magicians, which is that they are inherently fradulent. There is no real "magic" happening - it's all tricks and deception! To me, they are the equivalent of trumped up carnies, and I think we already know where I stand on that issue. They're grifters masquerading as entertainment. I just have a problem with the guy who is like, you know what? I want to earn my living through trickery. Shady, people.

This new generation of celebrity-magicians is equally distressing. Criss Angel (yes, he spells his name "Criss") and Satan incarnate, David Blaine. I hear they have beef too, like they are rival magic-trick-performing gang members. You're magicians! Do you understand how lame that is?? Do you think you are Tupac and Biggie? You make things "levitate" and put playing cards inside of car windows. Not the same.

Holding your breath underwater or living in an aqua-sphere for a week is not magic. No sir, that is what carnies call a "freakshow". Now here is what really pisses me off. So immediately after David Blaine completes his fantastical accomplishment of living underwater for a week, he collapses and must be rushed to the hospital where a team of doctors and nurses must now attend to his ailing internal organs. So here are medical staff and resources being used on some idiot who decided to give being a merman a try, taking time and attention away from people with actual, serious medical conditions. David Blaine, you are an idiot.

My coworker John swears my belief system is all wrong. In fact, he asserts that women LOVE magicians. He claims that if David Blaine came-a-courting, I would be all about it. Of course, as outlined above, this does not hold true in my case, and I would sooner go out with an aspiring actor. But I still just don't buy it! Ladies? Do you agree? Some cheesy guy comes up to you at a bar with a card trick, does this impress you?? I am inclined to disagree, but perhaps I am in the minority... varying viewpoints, anyone? Please, enlighten me, though I will not be easily convinced. And in the meantime, a message to would-be magicians everywhere: do everyone a favor, leave the magic to Harry Potter.

New Look for the New Year!

2006-12-30T21:41:00.000-05:00

I have made the executive decision that the time has come for The Heathernet to undergo a little cosmetic upkeep. Much like her moderator, The Heathernet requires constant maintenence to stay on top of her appearance. Oh, you think stunning aesthetic beauty just "happens"? Reality, it's Los Angeles, we're all high maintenence, and these blogs aren't posting themselves, people...

As much as I would have liked to save the old, archived posts in the "old format", and only present the new shiny format for forthcoming posts, I don't believe blogger.com agrees that this detail is an important one. So there you go. It's revisionist history. Soon people will forget all about the old green, friendly Heathernet and only this new fancy impression will remain!

A note on why I chose this template: Primarily, I believe, it was the simple fact that Blogger.com calls this layout "Snapshot Tequila". Now, I've looked it over, and I haven't seen any evidence, photographic or otherwise, of tequila on the page. However, the name did succeed in attracting my attention, hence winning out over such options as "No. 897" and "Simple II". I sincerely hope you enjoy this new layout as my contribution to usher in a fantastic 2007!!

what a boring fucking post. The content will be next to recieve a makeover, promise.

this little piggy

2006-12-29T14:45:00.000-05:00

I would like to take the opportunity to thank, via this forum, perhaps the most popular guest at my Christmas dinner last week:

The Pig!

In keeping with Filipino tradition, we had a lechon, which is a whole spit-roasted pig, complete with head and decorative ear ribbons. My brave mother, who bafflingly accepted the challenge to prepare a Christmas feast for 40 invited guests, decided on ordering said pig from a restaurant/store in Vallejo, where the Filipino population is more prevalent than say, anywhere in the delicate balance of the vintner/hayseed/hippie occupying cultures that comprise Sonoma County. Yes, it's a complicated place.

In any case, back to the star of the show... So my dad helps my cousin haul in this roasted pig, which was touted to feed 40 people. And everyone's jaw collectively drops. The thing was massive, at least twice the size we had envisioned. It's fairly dramatic, to say the least. Immediately, cameras are whipped out and everyone starts posing for photos w/ The Pig. [Amazingly, none have circulated quite yet, but as soon as they do, I will add accordingly.] So, the photo taking, admittedly felt a little weird to me; I don't often pose for photos with dinner, and less frequently with meat that more closely resembles a barnyard pal. On the other hand, I am a staunch carnivore, and have unapologetically tried meat that many might find offensive. Let it be known, however, there is a distinct line in the sand re: dogs, cats, monkeys, and most certainly insects.

So the pig, of course, was delicious, as was the variety of other food being served: zucchini frittata, leg of lamb, butternut squash soup, and [holy crap, this was good] the pecan pie and bread pudding. Deeeeelicious. But I wanted to resolve these feelings that we did have so much food, and this gigantic pig was on the table, and I believe the way to do that is to be grateful. In the days of the Native Americans, hunters would ceremoniously thank the buffalo for allowing itself to be killed and eaten in this great cycle of life, as well as gratitude for replenishing to provide for the tribe. Everything [yes, I don't care if you are vegan] that we eat was at one point, alive. Think about it. Vegetables, fruit, meat, eggs, dairy, all of the things we eat are dependent on the life that is around us. And it works the same way for animals. So, it is a cycle, and we are part of it, and it connects us all to each other, to the animals, and to the earth.

Wow, heady stuff for a blog that includes a photo of Dakota Fanning. Anyway, I guess my point is, beyond being thankful that food is wonderful, and that you have the means to procure it, and that some higher power [God?] provided you with this food, I also think its important to think about and be thankful for the source of your food, or the food itself... unless you find yourself ruminating on what you just picked up from Taco Bell, then you might want to rethink your standards of eating...

So think, and say thanks!

*Update 1/3/07: photos of The Pig!

here is a photo of my dad carving The Pig amidst a throng of hungry admirers...

and here is a close up!

Turkey Day! or How Carnies Ruined The Best Holiday Of The Year

2006-11-09T18:33:00.000-05:00

Its officially November, which means the greatest holiday ever created is right around the corner: THAAaaaaaNKSGIVING!

Thanksgiving is the best holiday because it focuses solely on food and eating. Other holidays might get sidetracked with religious undertones, or giftgiving. [Don't even get me started on Valentine's Day. Last year, I ended up getting a debilitating case of hives. My doctor blamed the antibiotics; I found it a little too convenient that the outbreak occurred dead on V-Day...]

Not Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving, your only objectives are to eat as much awesome food as you possibly can, share the wealth with others, and all be grateful that you are enjoying a delicious meal. Thankful for the earth's bounty, and whatnot. It's a glorious, glorious holiday.

For me, specifically, there are a few simple, traditional components that I think we can all agree help make Thanksgiving the most delicious holiday:

mashed potatoes
gravy
green bean casserole
stuffing/dressing
cranberry sauce

and the most important element, obviously:

The Turkey.

In my household, its important to note that battle is waged over the drumsticks and thighs, with turkey breast/white meat living on in perpetuity in the form of sandwiches and inventive casseroles in the weeks that follow.

Now, for the past few years, the Jack clan has celebrated Thanksgiving at my aunt and uncle's house just outside of Sacramento. My aunt is from Louisiana, and she is a phenomenal cook, truly. She is also a very sharp and extraordinarily kind person. Thus, I was extremely confused when we arrived at her house on Thanksgiving in 2004. I looked at the presentation. Everything initially seemed in order: veggies, potatoes, bird..... but the bird gave me pause. Was it a little bit smaller than years past? My internal monologue went something like this:

"Hm, that's a small turkey..... wait, why doesn't it have any drumsti-OH MY GOD!"

Folks, my aunt had purchased a turkey without legs or wings. On purpose. It was, in fact, an all-breast turkey.

Where had the legs and wings gone? Why were they selling maimed turkeys at the store? And how had my otherwise intelligent and generous aunt been conned into buying one? I thought this might have been a fluke, but in 2005, the same amputee turkey showed up for dinner.

This year, I have had time to mentally prepare to greet the white-meat only turkey. It is just something I have had to come to terms with and accept; no hint is subtle or tactful enough to imply to my dear aunt that I prefer my turkeys with all of their limbs. So, my strategy to overcome this is to overcompensate with (as outlined above) sides, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. to mask the white-meat-only nature of the meal. In addition to this, and as my mother would pronounce, I probably also require an "attitude adjustment". Look, I understand that those less fortunate than I would be ecstatic to have any turkey. I get that. Fine!

My beef remains with the food manufacturers: where do you get off selling people turkeys sans appendages?? Why do you feel the need to further demoralize this already flightless bird by rendering him even more flightless? And, the most obvious mystery in this whole affair, where are the missing turkey components??

Well, I'll tell you where the drumsticks are: they are at traveling carnivals and county fairs and Magic Mountain, all selling for $9 a leg. I think the implication is all too clear: who is responsible for this travesty?

Carnies.

The carnies are turning a tidy little profit at the expense of the American People!

So carnies, I just have one more question for you... what have you done with our wings??

Faithful readers: Don't let your Thanksgiving fall victim to carnie propaganda. Take a stand and take back the turkey!

perhaps one reason why people don't recycle

2006-10-30T13:06:00.002-05:00

Not everyone recycles. I know that. People throw away their recyclables all the time, because recycling is too inconvenient, because they can't be bothered, whatever. In my neighborhood in Los Angeles - one of the major metropolitan cities in America - there is not a scheduled recycling pickup, only garbage removal. Which, honestly, I find shocking, especially given all of the resources we have in LA, but for whatever reason, no recycling pickup. In any case, that means anytime I want to recycle, I have to load up Loretta (the-little-red-Jetta) with bottles, cans, what-have-you, and take them to the local recycling center so I can appease my conscience that I am at least doing some small part of what I can do to help stave off global warming and reduce waste. I know its not much, but it makes me feel better. I drink a lot of water, and those bottles aren't going to recycle themselves.

ANYway, this past Sunday, in an attempt to clear away the water bottle graveyard that had been accumulating in my room/Loretta, I headed to the recycling center in the parking lot of Vons on the corner of Santa Monica and Barrington in West LA. Now, here's another point of contention with the state of recycling in Los Angeles: this particular station will ONLY take beverage containers. However, they are also kind enough to give you the equivalent of cold hard cash for your troubles. I think the last time I dropped off my recycling, I made a cool $3.75 or thereabouts. Apparently plastic is not as valuable a commodity as aluminum.

So, its Sunday, its 2:45, and I have just finished separating my recyclables. There is a healthy line of people, and I patiently get in the back of the line, to witness:

the man who is taking the recyclables is BERATING a woman who is trying to turn in her plastic gallon-juice bottles.

Crazy-Recycling-Overseer: LADY! YOU CAN'T TURN THAT IN HERE!
Woman-Trying-To-Recycle: what? why not? it's recyclable.
CRO: YOU CAN'T RECYCLE IT HERE! YOU CAN THROW IT AWAY OVER THERE!
WTTR: i don't want to throw it away; it's recyclable!
CRO: LADY! YOU-ARE-NOT-LISTENING TO ME! YOU CAN'T RECYCLE THIS HERE!
WTTR: but... you used to take them!
CRO: WELL, WE DON'T TAKE THEM NO MORE!

So I am standing awkwardly with my bags of bottles, when Crazy Recycling Overseer turns his attention to me:

CRO: WHAT are you DOING??
me: (thinking... uhm... is this a trick question? rhetorical?)
CRO: WE ARE CLOSED! THESE PEOPLE WERE ALREADY IN LINE, WE ARE NOT RECYCLING NO MORE TODAY!
me: (pointing to car where I had been separating my plastics for the last 20 minutes) but I've been here!
CRO: WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? we are CLOSED! YOU CAN'T LEAVE THAT HERE TODAY!

In the meantime, the woman holding her juice containers, to her credit, had apparently come up with some new angle to her argument, bc as I stormed off from the recycling center, she and the crazy recycling man quickly got back into their spirited debate.

Now, I have no idea where they hired this man, or why he hates people, or what they pay him. Maybe he has to deal with a crappy boss, maybe he is on parole, I have no idea. But I do know, that the following factors are not encouraging people to recycle:

non-pick-up with regular trash
inconvenient acceptance policy - beverage containers only, and seemingly arbitrary denial of specific juice containers...
crappy hours (as I mentioned, this was around 2:45 on Sunday)
crazy person yelling at you

So, despite the joy I find in arguing with the crazies, I am not looking forward to returning to the fun-time all-smiles recycling center. However, I do eventually have to turn in my recycling before it takes over my entire car... my coworker informs me that he goes to a lovely place in Burbank, where they accept all of his recyclables, but by the time I've driven over the hill, isn't the gas I've burned counter-productive to the goal?

In relating the story to Eric Luther Ling, we both lamented the lack of photo documentation regarding the event. He was kind enough to supply us with this artist's rendering:

Yeah. It went down something like that.

about bloody time...

2006-10-09T17:00:00.000-04:00

So you can breathe again - bowling starts up tomorrow night.

Somehow those chuckleheads at the league pulled their shit together and we're actually all set to go tomorrow evening! It's a different ball game going into our third season; we're returning vets now. We know how shit is run. Other teams know, and (appropriately) fear us. We have forged alliances with a few teams we like, and are gunning against some we do not (i.e., Tim Farmer, chubbies... if we don't like you, you probably know who you are). Regardless, this is the season where it all comes together for Off in the Corner. As Beau Ling so aptly put it, the question is: which team are we beating tomorrow?

So, to review, Off in the Corner is back, and better than ever! Basically, this is how I think it breaks down:

Season 1: Beginner's luck - we had low expectations and high handicaps. In the end, TF took us down with a combination of voodoo and poor fashion.
Season 2: Sophomore slump - some bad luck combined with a corrupt bowling administration led to the team's collective low point, imparting valuable lessons about perserverance, and alcohol tolerance.
Season 3: Total Mastery and Domination (yes, it all needs to be capitalized) - where Off in the Corner silences all rivals with superior bowling skills and dance moves to take the championship.

The magic begins tomorrow at 9pm, Bay Shore Lanes in Santa Monica. Feel free to stop by, have a delicious bowling pin shaped beer, and show your support. We will also be celebrating our imminent victory at a nearby tbd watering hole.

Go Off in the Corner!

Further bowling outrage

2006-09-12T21:18:00.000-04:00

I was so incensed at the fact that bowling is supposedly meant to be starting in the next couple of weeks, and with no word from the organizers, I just wished I had an outlet to express my rage!

and then I remembered: my long-neglected blog!

Apologies for the lapse in entries lately. I blame Thailand, and its laze-inducing influence. Never mind that I probably should have had an actual "post" regarding my trip to Thailand, but all in good time, let's not be greedy.

So back to this bowling issue. We already know the bowling league is run by people of questionable moral character; that's not even the issue. Despite all of their shady business, the very least they could do is pull it together to get the league going again. The league was meant to be starting any week now, and random fellow bowlers I had run into all had the same question: when?

I asked my friend Tom, an opposing team captain but fair sportsman, to see if he couldn't shake an answer out of the league operators. He dutifully emailed, but... no reply. One week passes. We are, naturally, distressed. We called the bowling alley. Indeed, they had encountered the same problem: radio silence from our league administrators. What the fuck?

In the meantime, rival bowling alley/Mon night industry league at Mar Vista Lanes is on week 3. Week 3.

So, being the agile-minded athletes that we are, Tom and I agreed there was only one viable solution: We would usurp the league. Yes, we would lay seige to the bowling alley on Tuesday nights and take over as fair-minded administrators for OUR league! It was brilliant! It couldn't be that difficult to do, and we would be relatively impartial, since we were on opposing teams anyway. I think the current organizers were even turning a wee profit. It would be easy enough to do, as Off in the Corner, is, as you well know, the darling of the Bay Shore Lanes circuit, and we've got mad connections in positions of influence.

So we were all set to make the call, when Tom receives this email:

We will be sending out an email in the next week or so. Thanks for checking in.

Supremely. Weak. But whatever, right? It's still good news, because it means he's alive, and will be running our league.

But.

This email is now one week older... Mar Vista Lanes will be trucking right along to Week 4... and we still have no idea what the hell is going on! The league is crying out for leadership! I'm sorry, Bowling Officiant, but you leave us no choice: we will revolt, and we will take over the league! Viva! Revolucion!

Tom pointed out this would be a big responsibility.

I reminded him: With great power, comes great responsibility.

Thanks, Spidey.

Cheers! La revolucion!

2006-07-21T20:05:00.000-04:00

Consider: the cost of the average beverage in Los Angeles is continually on the rise. This disturbing trend is true even at less expensive establishments. Last night I ordered a jack and ginger that set me back a staggering $8! Now I don't know about you, but for the HJ, $8 a drink makes for an expensive evening out. After a night of a few too many drinks, my rent may be in jeopardy. This can not and will not stand! But, you say, what can I do to combat this alarming development? The bars certainly aren't going to make their drinks LESS expensive after setting this precedent. If people are paying, they will keep charging. It's a case of simple economics, supply and demand.

So, by that theory, if we stop buying drinks, the prices will come down. I for one, am happy to lead the charge against this exploitation. I am not, however, willing to suffer by practicing sobriety at the bars - it's not the alcohol's fault, after all; Jack Daniels is not the subject of my boycott. The only solution? Bringing my own stash of booze.

The flask is maybe the most underrated and underutilized tool at any drinker's disposal.

Now, most bars would probably frown upon the practice of bringing a flask in to mix your own cocktails. In fact, I would even say that some might go as far as to throw you out, or confiscate your flask! Indeed, to carry a flask, you must be bold, yet covert. You must be prepared to deal with any negative consequences. You have to be a renegade.

Once committed to this worthy task, you will find yourself pleased with the wide variety of uses for you and your trusty new best friend:

sporting events
bowling
concerts
amusement parks
movies
the beach
nights spent gallavanting on the town
and of course, expensive bars

The flask is endlessly versatile. Going to a tequila bar and don't like margaritas? Fill your flask with vodka! Worried the flask will clash with your style? Don't fear - there are many different flasks for every personality. You can even have yours personally engraved, to avoid mixups with your friends' flasks. Think you can't carry a flask because people will peg you as "an alcoholic"? Please! Just a case of jealousy and why-didn't-I-think-of-that rearing its ugly head. You will be ushering the flask into its new status of acceptability!

All this, and you will be drinking for a cause! Sticking it to the man! You will be living the dream; the rebellious life of a revolutionary!

Hail to the flask!

YARRRRR! the remix...

2006-07-07T14:44:00.000-04:00

So, realizing all too well that my initial pirates themed posting attempt was, admittedly, very weak, I consulted my blogging muse Martin Luther Ling to ask if he had any ideas to help "spice it up". He suggested adding a picture.

Here are some pictures I found in an effort to create a superior pirates themed blog.

The Pirate Puppet.

The Pirate Showercurtain. Because dammit, even pirates value their privacy! Arrr...

Dial-a-Pirate, for a handy rolodex of pirates at your disposal

Pirate band-aids, for when you have pesky sword-inflicted injuries, but an ordinary non-pirate bandage will not suffice.

Pirate llama. Awwww... looks like the scurvy got you too! But just because he only has three legs, don't think he's not lethal with that dagger...

and perhaps my favorite.......

A Very Pirate Jr. Prom

nice work on the authentic teeth, buddy!

YARRRRR!

2006-07-07T12:56:00.000-04:00

go see pirates.

one year ago...

2006-06-01T18:07:00.000-04:00

In one month (and a few days) I will have been at my current job for one year. And on that day, the anniversary of my re-entry into the workplace, we can look back on that productive year and smile. But for today, I'd like to take a moment to reflect upon the glorious place I was in one year ago: Unemployment.

After being laid off and cut the largest single check of my life (thank you, severance!), I thought to myself, 'now what'? I knew at some point I would be re-entering the workforce, but did I really have to rush right into it?

Things I decided I would allow myself to do before finding a job:

Take a 2 week trip to Argentina with someone I had only had two in-person conversations with.
Extend that trip by one more week after aforementioned person left to return to America.
Visit my newly engaged pal in a remote Canadian town for a long weekend.
Spend a week with my parents, learn how to fly-fish with the old man, eat everything my mom cooked up.
Convince my best friend/job hunt coordinator to cancel her work drinks every night for a month so we could properly spend our evenings getting wasted together.
Celebrate the 4th of July with a week-long bender that culminated in dehydration and police intervention.

Ah, memories. Could I have asked for better circumstances to be unemployed under? I had money in the bank, I was as tan as I've ever been, and I had time to read books! For fun! I also bought houseplants (which have since passed on to the next world) and vowed to master the Spanish language after being inspired by my trip to Buenos Aires.

I think now about how things have changed... while I am, admittedly, gainfully employed, I have little/no money in savings, very little time to vacation, and my Spanish practice has been relegated to short conversations with Lopez in the kitchen. I love working at The Brucks, but I do sometimes get a bit misty reminiscing about my short-lived freedom, Summer '05...

I will say, in all fairness, that while it was a glorious, lovely time to be free, I always did have an underlying anxiety... What if there are no jobs out there? What if I run out of money? What if no one will hire me? Despite my great tan!?? So for now, I do have that security and peace of mind, even if it is keeping me from the beach for now...

Conspiracy!!

2006-05-18T14:00:00.000-04:00

As you may already be aware, there is a huge conspiracy afoot. It has created such a stir in the public, that as we speak, protests are occurring throughout the world. This controversy has been even further mitigated by the media, and at this stage, has permeated almost every aspect of our lives: spiritual, emotional, and physical.

No, kids, I'm not talking about The Da Vinci Code. There is something much more sinister at hand.

I'm talking, about JQBL playoffs.

Exhibit A:
Off in the Corner, everyone's favorite bowling squad, played a team we'll call "The Chubies" earlier this season. The Chubies showed up with two regular season players, and one substitute. Let the record show that they were playing with only 3 out of 4 players for our entire matchup. And, they were bitches. Here is a full account of that travesty.

In any case, when we wrote to the organizers of the bowling league about the injustices that had taken place that fateful night, we were met with silence. Had they no interest in justice?? This was our first clue as to the organization we were dealing with.

Exhibit B:
After the last week of regular play, Off in the Corner was informed via email that we were in 17th place and would not be making the playoffs, which was limited to the top 16 teams. So close! Understandably, we were crushed, but because we are such avid supporters of the sport and upstanding sportsmen in general, we still decided to watch some of our friends compete for the championship. Upon arriving (in our leisure clothes, as our uniforms for the season were retired) Beau Ling happened to grab a copy of last week's standings and happened to count our placement in the standings.

"1... 2... 3... 4......... uh... guys?"
"yeah?"
"uh - this says we are in 16th place."

WHAT!??????????

Oh yes, faithful supporters: it was right there in black and white. 16th place - which meant we should have been bowling at that very moment. Filled with a new deliberate rage, we scanned the lanes to see what team had somehow made it to the playoffs despite being lower in the standings. It was no other than LMB Partners, the team we beat in last season's playoffs. They were in 20th place on the scoresheet, well below our team, but somehow were duking it out for a shot at the title?? What?? Immediately, we used Pop-pins' blackberry to once again contact the organizer.

"We are upset and confused"...
His lame reply via email 30 minutes later? "LMB Partners were owed 3 points from a forfeit. Sorry for any confusion."

Yeah

Fucking

Right.

Exhibit C:
Spare-y Pop-pins' boyfriend succeeded in getting his team to the playoffs. They were matched up with TIM FARMER... and lost.

Mere coincidences? Happenstance?

I'll let you be the judge.

Seek The Truth.

Mud Run, bitches!

2006-04-11T12:59:00.000-04:00

That's right: the era of Heather as a sedentary, inactive slob has come to an end! In a rare display of athleticism and ultimate physical exertion, Heather conquered an event that has brought no less than marines and militiamen to their peril.

Yes, I speak of the inimitable...

MUD RUN.

I have compiled a little photographic tour so that you might be able to experience some of the glory that was the 5k Mud Run from the comfort of your computer, without so much as a fleck of unwanted dirt on your person! I know, I am a giver...

Here I am looking cocky before the race. Ooh, look at my shiny white tank top! I'm so clean and mud free!

It is approximately 7:30 am here, btw, which is a feat worth mentioning in itself.

So then, I meet up with the other members of my team, which were assigned by our mutual friend and relentless organizer Kat. You may remember Kat from other such "active" blogs, as Hiking, and other activities where she uses her wiles to convince me to do things I would usually not. Though I guess in the end, that's probably a good thing... I mean, look at me! I have a number on my shirt! I look like a seasoned athlete in this photo!

So the Mud Run begins, and we take off, all smiles and high hopes. Here is the beginning of the race, where a truck propels water over all of the participants as we begin. Ha! Water? That's the least of our concerns......

So the beginning is not too bad for Team Bigfoot (as we have inexplicably called ourselves), we try to pace ourselves while also trying to gain ground on Kat's team. There are obstacles in our path, like haystacks and tires and tunnels that we have to navigate, but nothing too major up front.

This is the first mud pit. Jack (on my team, in the red) appears to be pretty confident about plunging into the mud. The look on my face, however, says one thing.

Ew!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Damn, suck it up, Heather! You're embarrassing your team!

This is the second mud pit. As you can probably tell, this was much, much worse (aka, muddier) than mud pit #1. See those turquoisish poles? There were Mud Run volunteers yelling at us to "GO UNDER! GO UNDER!" So, as we approached, we had to fall onto the ground, in the mud, to crawl under the poles. They were pretty close to the mud, so there were instances where we had to hold our breath, and just duck our heads into the mud. Pret-ty gross.

So after emerging from the mud like some kind of bog monster, I am saturated in mud. Shoes, socks, shorts, underwear, everything. I found mud in my ears afterwards. I am in the midst of blinking away mud, when I look up to see, looming ahead...

THE HILL.

The Hill would not end. This photo doesn't really do The Hill justice. If you think it ends where you can kindof see the horizon, you would be wrong. The Hill leads you up a sharp right and continues for about twice as long. Everyone is at this point caked in mud, trudging uphill, and murmuring curse words when breath will allow it. Running is no longer an option for me. I am sucking air, The Hill has taken my last ounces of energy. I wonder, at this point, if I will have to be carted down The Hill, if I will indeed make it to the finish line. There are volunteers standing by, surely one has a walkie talkie they could summon help with. My team was ahead of me, but I was pretty sure Kat's team was behind me... and so, I kept going. I could NOT be the reason my team lost to Kat's... Closer to the top, Sylvia and Jack (Team Bigfoot) waited for me with words of encouragement. I kept going, but was thinking, my God, I bet we're not even halfway done...

And would you believe it, after The Hill, it was all downhill! I caught my breath, and it was easy for me to take off down the hill... we were home free! We just had to link arms and cross the finish, except(!), to our dismay, for a final mud pit. Oh, sure, why the hell not? Crawling again, under the flags, we finally made it to the end, and in an astonishing 23 minutes! Yes folks, that's less than an 8-minute mile! We did in fact beat Kat's team, and rinsed off some of the grime before they finished, but Sylvia and I were kind enough to wait for them to finish for a semi-muddy last photo...

It was, in fact, a very triumphant feeling. And they had free pizza waiting for us at the end! I was actually pretty pleased with myself that I had done it. Dammit, Kat was right again. At least I beat her in the race! Face, Kat! And... I did get this picture to take away...
*photo credit to Kat's boyfriend. Nice one, Burton.

Pizza Party

2006-03-28T17:25:00.000-05:00

I made pizza last night.

From scratch!

OK, so my version of scratch involves refrigerator section "fresh" pizza dough from Trader Joe's and pizza sauce from a jar. But nonetheless! I rolled out the dough! I grated the cheese! I sliced up the mushrooms! And by 10:30 pm, a mere 2 hours after I embarked on my mission, I had my first taste of my deliciously fresh, homemade pizza...

...and its' soft, undercooked dough.

Where had I gone wrong? Never mind that my oven is so old the temperature markings on the dial have worn away... I cleared that hurdle with an oven thermometer, an enterprising move on my part if I may say so myself. No, it was supposedly at the requisite 400 degrees farhenheit. The package of dough told me 10-12 minutes in the oven... but 15, 20, 25 minutes later... still chewy flour flavor. What the f, man?

So, finally, I'm starving, I've gone through 2 glasses of wine and half a script waiting for this thing, and I can't take it. I take my undercooked pizza out of the oven. The veggies have roasted to 1/4 their original size, the cheese is healthily browned, but the bottom of the crust? I can't take it anymore. I cut out a couple slices, and into the toaster oven with it.

Waiting.

Waiting.

[Do you know that feeling when you are just starving, and all you can think about is food?? I get that a lot.]

Freaking finally. It's so hot, I don't care. Thank God, it's still good. The charred veggies, the crispy cheese, it doesn't matter; it's still pretty damn edible. And I have that satisfaction of having made it myself! Tho, it is admittedly quite late... where did I go wrong?

I will never again take for granted the 30 minute delivery guarantee. Does anyone even promise that anymore?

Lopez: king of the office

2006-03-07T16:57:00.000-05:00

This is a shout out to my man Lopez, who keeps the Brucks running like a well-oiled machine.

Lopez is from Guatemala. He is fluent in Spanish and English. He claims that the key to never getting sick is drinking quality tequila (his personal recommendations: Patron or Don Julio). And - he makes amazing carne asada.

Our typical morning conversations take place in the kitchen, and go something like this.

HJ: Hi Lopez...
L: Hola, senorita! How are you?
HJ: (exasperated sigh) I don't know... maybe I should just give up and move to Fiji.
L: Why you want to move to Fiji?? It's boring!
HJ: Because! I can just relax, lie in my hammock, catch fish...
L: You can't move to Fiji!

Then I reflect on his argument, which is a convincing one, finish applying cream cheese to my bagel, and go to my desk for another productive day.

From what I can tell, Lopez loves the Brucks. He always has a smile on his face when I see him, he never complains... everyone loves him.

Perhaps the only person in the office who has drama with our beloved Lopez is Paul. The trouble began during an event now known to most as "Pretzelgate". The disgruntled Paul, miffed there were no more pretzels, rummaged around the kitchen, on a crazed search for any remaining pretzel fragments. Paul (who, in his defense, was completely joking) turned to Lopez and demanded, "Lopez! What happened to all the pretzels!?" and continued on with his search. Now, I am not bilingual, but I imagine that if someone was being facetious in a language that was anything other than English, I would be completely lost. As it turns out, Lopez did not see the humor, and thought Paul was berating him for lack of pretzels. Hence... he may have a vendetta against Paul. We are not sure. But I digress...

Where would we be without Lopez? Hungry, uninspired, sick, unkempt? Maybe I would be in Fiji... which, yes, is nice to think about every now and then, but maybe after a little while it would get boring...

So thanks, Lopez. For the kind words, the inspiration, and the justification to drink tequila when the sniffles are coming on.

going postal

2006-02-28T14:22:00.000-05:00

For. the. love. of. all. that. is. holy:
STOP sending me unsolicited crap!!!!!

please.

This is a desperate plea directed to all the misinformed freaks and psychopaths out there that think that blindly sending off movie ideas to random companies is a good idea. Might get lucky! Make a million billion dollars on the next Armageddon! Couldn't hurt?

But it does hurt. It hurts me. Personally. Very very personally. Becuase for every single person from New Mexico, or Montreal, or small German towns I can't pronounce, I am the one who gets the distinctive pleasure of mailing back all of the material and informing these aspiring whomevers that we cannot even so much as look at it.

Sometimes, some of these brilliant people decide that me responding to their query is an opening for more correspondence! A phone call, perhaps? No! That is INcorrect! My letter is to inform you that your correspondence is not requested, desired, or sanctioned AT ALL! If you send me another piece of mail, I will still be the one sending it back to you. I will still be the one committing hari kari because you fedexed a bubble-wrapped box containing some random manuscript that I now have to figure out how to send back to you.

I am not even getting into the ideas or loglines behind the gems that find their way to my inbox each day. But here's my one piece of advice. You think you have the next $100 million blockbuster movie? Get an agent. Preferably one anyone working in the industry will return phone calls to. That's all. I'm not going to tell you how to go about finding one, or how to submit your material. That's your job. And there is this glorious learning resource called 'the internet'. Use it before you call me and ask for any and all knowledge I have on the matter of getting your screenplay looked at.

In the meantime, please don't send me any more unsolicited mail. I beg of you.

Because the mail never stops. It just keeps coming and coming and coming. There's never a letup, It's relentless. Every day it piles up more and more, but the more you get out, the more it keeps coming. And then the bar code reader breaks. And then it's Publisher's Clearinghouse day.
- Newman, Seinfeld, 1990s.

Special Edition Guest Blog: Melancholia 5.1

2006-02-22T22:12:00.000-05:00

So, as a special treat to fans of the Heathernet, today we have a guest blogger, our very own Mr. Paul Lyons! After I told him I was a little bummed out, and certainly in no mood to blog, he took it upon himself to write up the little entry below to share with all you impatient readers! I hope you enjoy, it made me think, reflect, and feel a little better. And if that doesn't work, there's always cheesy potatoes!*

- Haj

*(see last blog entry)

Alright, let’s face it….we have all experienced sadness and disappointment in our lives at one point or another. I’ve had a plethora…a cornucopia….a King’s ransom’s worth of disappointments, let-downs, put-downs, put-upons, frowned-upons, dissings, ditchings, dumpings, teasings, tauntings, tortures, and general melancholy. You would think by now, I would be some sort of expert on the subject. That I would have an innate, superhero type-ability to detect the upcoming disappointment well in advance, and as a result I would either avoid it….or manage it in a way that would have me coming out ahead. But no….I experience life’s shortcomings just like everyone else…. No special concessions for us world-weary veterans. No hats, nor t-shirts nor souvenir badges….seerslee, nothing…nada. So what does one do in such times of sorrow…knowing that one’s suffering, one’s sadness, one’s disappointment is no different than anyone else’s? Well…you could, I suppose, start a worldwide contest to see who is really the person who has had the biggest disappointment, or the greatest sadness in life….ever. The judges could be famous experts on the subject(s)…or maybe the judges can be non-famous people picked at random, like TV’s Nielsen system. Whatever. People could be judged by Style, Depth of Pain and/or Sadness (measured by a machine designed by NASA, or perhaps Microsoft…..no Apple), Ripple Factor (i.e. husband dies, then wife and family gets kicked out of house, etc…), and of course…the wildly popular “My Life Is Sad and Hopeless” essay, monologue, verbal ranting, picture collage and/or diorama presentation. Now I am thinking Donald Trump could be involved….Okay, now I’ve completely gone off track….Where was I? Oh…yes….sadness. The way I see it….life would not be life without sadness and disappointment….Our lives are shaped by both good and bad experiences…I believe both are of equal importance. Too much of one, or the other is horrible. If all one experiences is nothing but good good and good….well….my guess is that one would eventually no longer appreciate the value of the good….and so to…would at some point, no longer be able to identify that it’s a good at all….It would become….standard. You win a million dollars every single day of your life….after awhile….it becomes standard issue…no big deal….whatever. Today I read in the L.A. times about a rich dude who crashed a $million dollar Ferrari in Malibu. The mf crashed the car, and ran away. To most of the world….it’s beyond belief, not crashing the car…but actually owning a $million dollar Ferrari! Yet to the billionaires of the world….who cares? I mean….car is a car is a car….why not race it, crash it…whatever. Point is…too much good is, well….not so good. Look the Paris Hilton’s of the world….she has everything, but have you met anyone who really, truly wants to be her? It is my feeling that we should embrace what we have in our lives…including the bad stuff. Own it. I read somewhere that Jack Nicholson said he is proud of the marks and lines on his aged face….he said something to the effect of “I’ve earned every one of them.” I happen to agree with that sentiment. Own your life…earn your success and failures….and failures, in themselves, are always disguised opportunities….to learn and grow. So, I am sad today….no big deal. I will live through it…and get over it…but more importantly….I earned it, I own it. It’s mine. It’s me….and only I can take my sorrow away. So what the F am I waiting for????

Cheese and Potatoes

2006-01-27T18:50:00.000-05:00

are two decidedly delicious foods in their own right. Independent of each other, each possesses fantastic potential for making wonderful cheesy or potatoey dishes. HOWEVER, this awesome power is only enhanced, when they come together... and form...

cheesy

potatoes.

Good God, man, combine them and you not only have food that will appeal to the masses, but also fit for gods and kings! Now, of course, one can't ignore the unfortunate fact that in many ways, these are two pariahs of the food community. After all, cheese is, well, fat. And potatoes are pretty much the embodiment of evil for anti-carb fanatics. But vilification aside, can we focus on the food itself for a moment? Cheesy fries, potato skins, hash brown casserole, baked potatoes with melty cheddar... think about it: cheese and potatoes were made to be friends.

My personal love affair with the combination of cheese and potatoes probably reached it's apex while I was in Scotland, getting styrofoam containers of piping hot chips (fries) and cheese at 3 am. Oh my God, the Glaswegians did it right, adding liberal amounts of salt and vinegar, sometimes even a little chili sauce (depending perhaps on how many beers you were trying to neutralize). You add a big handful of shredded cheese to a batch of chips right out of the fryer, add s & v to taste, close the styrofoam, shake it around... 2 minutes later, absolutely heavenly chips and cheese. Magic.

Yes, it may not be your healthiest option. It's no secret that the Scots aren't necessarily known for their lithe/slender body types (tho, don't misunderstand me, their legs look dead sexy in a kilt). But I will argue against Atkins fans, in saying that a diet consisting only of lettuce wrapped burgers and bacon wrapped steak can't be the best thing for you either... so give balance a chance!

...and balance your potatoes with a healthy side of cheeeese!

Reflections on a sober weekend

2006-01-16T17:32:00.000-05:00

Whoa.

First of all, some of you may be saying to yourself, "wait, did I link up to the wrong site? I thought I was on The Heathernet...?" Well, yes friends, despite the initial shock, the implausible title of this blog, is in fact, fact. Heather spent the entire week, including the 3-day weekend, in complete and total sobriety.

Here are some things I learned from this sober weekend that I hope will serve me in weekends to come, when drinking may well work its way back into my repertoire:

- Weekends are not as short as I once presumed! In fact, this weekend seemed to last an incredibly long time. Granted, it was a 3-day weekend, but I remember this sensation of extra time striking me as early as Saturday! Not only did I pop into the office for a few hours over the weekend, but I also managed to get a haircut, attend a friend's birthday party (in the valley, no less!), go out to breakfast, read a script, meet up with an old friend for sushi, go grocery shopping, cook myself lunch, and write this very blog! Laundry is next! Overall productivity is up, seemingly a byproduct of this unfamiliar non-hungover state...

- Karaoke, which I remember as being fairly ridiculous while drunk, is still ridiculous while sober. I may have to make a note not to attend future karaoke functions while not under the influence of some type of drug or alcohol.

- Peer pressure still runs rampant. Drinkers like to be in the company of other drinkers, not bland "designated drivers" such as myself, guzzling water while the "cool kids" are downing shots and wearing other people's underwear on their heads. I understand that some people are more easily influenced by their peers than others, so I have developed this clever comeback to quickly diffuse an awkward peer pressure situation. Please feel free to take your own liberties when adapting the following quote to your own, personal situation.

"You know what, guys?? I'm "cool" without drinking/using pot/smoking crack, I am still a fun and exciting/interesting/studious person, and if you can't see all that I have to offer just because I don't have a beer/blunt/crack pipe in my hand, then you can find yourself a new friend."

Problem solved!

- Sparkling water is still less expensive than vodka tonics at most LA bars. Pour into a glass and add a lime and its like you have a fancy cocktail! Only you will be the wiser ;)

So my experiment as a teetotaler has been an unmitigated success! I would like to take this opportunity to thank my many supporters who made this sober week/weekend possible, and also to those who gallantly agreed to help take care of me when I end the experiment this weekend, at my birthday party.

Offensive Auto Roundup

2005-12-29T18:29:00.000-05:00

As I was trekking my way down I-5 in the 8 HOURS it ended up taking me from NorCal to LA, I had the opportunity to observe some prime examples of automaking at its most hideous.

Here, in no particular order, are some cars that should no longer be allowed on the road.

1. The Honda Element. My friend Natty, visiting from Argentina, saw one in a parking lot. She was shocked. "What is that?? It looks like a fridge!" Seriously, now. Why would anyone want to drive a box? [Close relative: the also-boxy Toyota Scion.]

2. The PT Cruiser. It looks like a British black cab met a hearse and had a baby and tried to pass it off as something new, but at the same time, "retro!" Ooh, baby boomers loooove the PT Cruiser! Its so nostalgic! Nostalgia for what? A time of ugly cars? Sick. It's so ugly, it hurts my eyes to look at it for too long. The worst is that eggplant purple that seems to complement the hideousness of the body so well. People who drive this make me angry. It's like they are a cult of jukebox-listening, sock-hopping freaks who are relishing the idea that they are part of an exclusive hot rod club. They are probably listening to Buddy Holly as they drive.

3. The Aztec. Pontiac made this SUV and I have never forgiven them. I used to drive a Grand Am, so its not like I have no love for the Pontiac, but I was apalled, I repeat, apalled, that the Aztec passed all the requisite car-making greenlights to get designed, manufactured, and sold on the free market. But more appalling, and certainly more distressing, is that fact that somewhere, someone thought to themselves, "hm, I'm going to buy a new car today." And came home with an Aztec. For shame.

4. Hummers. Of any make/model. I'm sorry, but nothing screams "inconsiderate, self-important prick" like these 11-miles to the gallon monstrosities. Why the fuck would anyone need a military-grade vehicle for their everyday life in suburbia? Moms, you don't need an all-terrain army vehicle to drop the kids off at their 0800 soccer tournament. And can we talk about the fact that they are ugly? This is only enhanced when their idiotic owners make creative choices like bright emergency yellow.

Holiday treats

2005-12-21T17:50:00.000-05:00

OK, can we talk about the fact that over the past couple weeks, approximately 1 metric ton of cookies, cakes, muffins, tarts, cupcakes, caramel popcorn, candy, brownies, pies, christmas-tree-shaped rice krispie treats, and various other assorted fatmaking treats have been delivered to my office and subsequently found their way into my stomach. Literally, the sweets and crap are overflowing out of the JB kitchen and into reception. While I know I really shouldn't complain about the deliciousness of all of these generous goodies, I am beginning to feel a bit like Gretel walking into the JB Gingerbread House each morning to go to work. I just get tubbier and tubbier and basically wait for my inevitable fate to be basted, thrown in the oven, and served up for dinner.

What can I do to prevent this?? Self-control? PLEASE. Any of you the least bit acquainted with the HJ know the whole "self-control" option effectually phased itself out after freshman year in the dorms. I believe "hedonism" is the word. Some have gone so far as to liken my eating habits to that of a goldfish. A goldfish, for those not familiar, will continue to eat if there is food in front of it, without stopping, to the point that it could ostensibly eat itself to death. I fear that my goldfish-eating tendencies are reaching critical mass. Clearly, relying on the strength of my self-control isn't going to do shit.

So, excercise right? This morning I actually woke up at 7am and took a 30-minute jog around the neighborhood! Great, right? I also ate some chocolate-orange cake, a cookie, and a piece of chocolate, all before lunch. I would have to run a 10k each morning to work off what I eat in the course of a day in the office.

So, maybe when I leave the office and go home for the holidays there will be some relief from all of this food madness? Oh no. Think again, my friend. I am going home to visit my parents, specifically, my MOM. Who, while admitting I am getting a bit "softer" as of late, will feed me to the point that I can eat no more. We will eat. A lot. Which is, honestly, the most fantastic thing I could ask for. I love food, right! My mom makes the best lasagna, we go to Chinatown for dim sum, lunch up in wine country... are you kidding?? It's going to be the best!

Until suddenly, it's January. The food drunk has worn off. And my jeans no longer fit.

Fuck.

Fire up the oven; Hansel - I'm not going to make it.

Hey ya!

2005-12-08T13:57:00.000-05:00

Hi Andre,
So, when you came into the office the other day, I felt like we had a moment. I mean, not that you don't have "moments" with people all the time, probably every day. But yes, I think we both felt that undeniable connection as you glided through the office, we locked eyes, and you peeked out from beneath your stylish cap.

I believe the only verbal culmination of all this was, "hi".

Wow, I mean, it was so sudden, I didn't really know how to respond! I mean, we come from such different worlds! Here you are, international superstar, hip hop phenom, burgeoning movie star, and here I am, behind a desk, lowly assistant, can't even afford to move to Venice and get a dog. But something happened the other day, you probably can't explain it, goodness knows I can't. But I think we both know that on some cosmic level it was meant to be. If only in that moment.

I'm sorry the harsh realities of our circumstances have to keep us apart, Andre, but sadly I think that is just the way the world works sometimes. Maybe in another life, this would have had a chance. But it just can't work, I'm sorry.

I hope you understand.

If however, you do not understand, and think we should face the odds no matter what, you can reach me at work between the hours of 9am to 8pm, or on my cell anytime you like.

Positivity!

2005-12-07T19:22:00.000-05:00

When things inexplicably seem to suck, it is time to look on the bright side and be positive.

1) The email I received from JQBL today saying that Tim Farmer and his team of losers won the bowling league. Man, that pissed me off. Looking in the bright side, however, I am not bald, and I don't wear bowling shirts from 40 years ago and think I am the shit. For this I am grateful.

2) When someone you hate emails you, not a personal email, but a forwarded joke that is not even funny. I take solace in the fact that from all evidence, they still reside outside of the state, and still have an underdeveloped sense of humor. I am further glad that my humor is not impaired.

3) Christmas is upon us and I have to buy presents. Malls are full of crazy people. I thank the inventor of the internet and online shopping. Bless you.

4) I got a new cookbook today. Food is delicious. For this, I rejoice. OK, and the fact that I can afford food. That's good. I can afford food because I have a job. Having a job is really good, plus my boss just had a baby, so maybe more time will open up so I can actually cook something out of my new cookbook. Spectacular!

Wow, I really feel much better. If you like food too, and you are someone that I don't hate, I would be happy to make you something delicious that we could share. I think my landlord is fixing my fireplace. Ooh, look, #5! Fixed fireplace for the winter! So we could have a nice little fireside dinner. Would you like that?

Did I just turn my dismal day into a holiday dinner party invite? Why yes, I think I did. Hooray for positivity!

P.S. Don't cross me today, I am in a bad mood. For my pending dinner party you can bring wine.

Black Wednesday

2005-11-30T12:47:00.000-05:00

Today is a dark, dark day. Last night, Off in the Corner suffered its most harrowing defeat to date, and was knocked out of the JQBL playoffs. After making it to the elite eight, and despite the enthusiastic support of our fans, we succumbed to a bitter loss. Today, I have a new sworn enemy, and he goes by the name of Tim Farmer.

Tim Farmer is the new face of evil. He wears a retro-style bowling shirt. He doesn't have any hair. He has a ball towel.

How did he get so many strikes? Did he go by himself to the bowling alley everyday after school in high school because he had no friends? Did he sign an allegiance with Satan? Is there some evil power in his crappy ball towel?

Whatever, Tim Farmer, you know what? You made it to the next round of playoffs, but do you have the awesomest team in the league? Does your team high five until their hands are hurting from the force of the slap? I don't think so. If I am correct, you are the only one on your team with that lame ass bowling shirt. Whatever happened to unity, Tim Farmer? Answer me that.

Off in the Corner is just starting. We will be back, and our vengence will be directed towards you. We will be hungry to win next season, and you will be crushed. Because good guys win in the end, Tim Farmer, thats something we will prove to you next season on the lanes.

Playoff time

2005-11-21T18:29:00.000-05:00

Today we got the standings for regular season play for JQBL. Your plucky heroes in pink are currently in 4th place. 4th place! Not only that, but upon reviewing the stats, we are also the only team to have a perfect attendance record. Sparey Poppins and her destructive score last week? I mean, 170 raw score?? Come ON!

So our strategy remains much the same. Our first face-off is against LMB Partners. Not to talk too much shit, but seriously? One of their players showed up for 10 out of 20 games. At my school, 50% equaled an F. Sorry guy. Also, what does your name even mean? LMB? Lame Mommy Boy Partners? Or is it some allusion to boy band acronyms? Either way, weak.

How they train: not showing up to games, scoring less than 800 + handicap
How we train: duct-taping 40s to our hands, imitating cars at fast food drive-thrus, general ferocity conditioning

OK, we need to focus. Enough slander of the other team: we have to get our heads back in the game. It's sudden death, and that means no f-ing around. Seriously, its go time. We are NOT about to go out like a bunch of punks.

We have one week, I repeat, ONE WEEK, to rest, practice, pray, meditate, train, whatever. When we get back from our fatty turkey meals, there is no turning back. I love you guys; now it is time to bring home the gold.

GO OFF IN THE CORNER!

A post... of nothing

2005-11-18T20:42:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry, its Friday.

By Friday, all brain cells that haven't already checked out by Wednesday (Wednesday being the new Thursday, which was the new Friday) have also been depleted or used up in some futile endeavor like, composing writer's lists, or ordering lunch. So now I have for you, nothing.

If you are pissed off that you are reading this right now, you may direct your anger to Eric Luther Ling, who when informed that I had nothing to post today, actually suggested that I post exactly that. "Well, there's your post right there."

Here is the resulting post. I'm sorry.

In other news, who is doing Edward 40 Hands tomorrow night? I have never done them before, so I am starting with two forties of Bud Light. I know, it is weak. But I am old now. I'm 25. This is the same liver that supported me through a freshman year of jello shots and beer bongs for three consecutive quarters at UCSB. I am not an alcohol workhorse, people!

OK, I might be a workhorse, but these precious organs have served me so well since my drinking career began a legendary 10(?) years ago, can I really afford to abuse them now? Good God I am old.

I think I was better off with nothing...

Kelly Clarkson: yes.

2005-11-17T16:26:00.000-05:00

10 things I would like to say to Kelly Clarkson:

10. Thank you, Kelly Clarkson, for singing what the rest of us have been thinking all our lives.

9. I love you

8. Miss Independant? Fuck, that is a good song.

7. Since "Since You've Been Gone", have you really found that you have been getting what you want?

6. Sometimes I think you should stray from the sidewalk... but you probably already know that, because it's like, the point of the song...

5. Hazel is a good eye color, especially when used for hiding tears/emotions. Not like I would know, my eyes are just plain brown.

4. Does Paula look scary in real life? Were you ever afraid of Randy Jackson stealing your lunch?

3. Don't get too skinny. You're hot, and if you like food a little too much, well you know what? That makes two of us.

2. Clay Aiken? Bitch, pleeeease.

1. I forgive you for From Justin To Kelly

Only the best night of the week...

2005-11-15T19:22:00.000-05:00

Yes, once again it is Tuesday. and that means one thing:

BOWLING, BITCHES!

But this week it is bittersweet, as it is the last week of regular season play. Thankfully, Off in the Corner has been devastating our opponents lately, so we are all but ensured a spot in the playoffs. Now don't misunderstand me, its no time to get cocky. Playoffs are rough, and insidious dirty tricks will likely abound. Just because Off in the Corner is an upstanding team of morally upright sportsmen does not mean that other teams also act accordingly. Therefore, I have outlined some of the tenets that have made us so successful and a model team.

1) High-fives. All the time. Between rolls. After rolls. During rounds of drinking bowling pin-shaped beer. After lacing up our bowling shoes. When Jeffy kisses his guns.

2) Dancing. Yes, constant dancing. It totally psyches out the other team, plus, keeps us 'warm' for our next roll. And please, with skills like these, it would be a crime not to share them.

3) 4 team members = 4 beers. No exceptions. Well, barring that one time when I had bird flu, and that other time we had a 'guest' so we had five beers each. But I think the 5-beer time I bowled like 36. In any case, it is not bowling without our delicious bowling pin beers. Oh yes, soon my pretties...

4) Our team is 50% Asian. 50%! Plus, we have taught Jeff not to hate Asians any more - a big step! I think this alone speaks to the bond our team has, defeating racism with nothing more than a heavy ball and community shoes.

5) Our infamy and status as a team. The pink shirts, the ritualistic slap of the door post as we enter, our supreme awesomeness overall... don't think we don't know y'all are jealous. But please, don't hate. Off in the Corner is all about love. We don't want anyone beating Off in the Corner tonight or any other night.

Go team!

Hiking

2005-11-14T19:48:00.000-05:00

Hiking. Why.

OK, so I went out for a hike on Sunday and I was prepared to go and conquer "the mountain". Now, first of all, what the hell was I thinking after a night of lemon drop shots and red bull vodkas, washed down with Jack in the Box at 3am? I wake up one morning and I am a spelunker? I blame you Kat, if you are reading this. Always motivating me to do "active", "adventurous" things. You know I am just not built for that sort of thing. Regardless...

So we start climbing, I'm feeling good. Fresh air. Random wildlife [and let me clarify, this is in Pasadena, so like lizards, birds, and large beetles about do it]. Then it gets hot. Like, really fucking hot. So I drink water. and I'm still climbling. And while I can see the bottom, and yes, its really pretty and like, small looking, I still can't see the top.

This goes on for two hours.

One member of our fearless party starts to fall behind, bless her soul. So while some are pressing onward, we still can't see the top, the sun is setting, we are a man down, and I am beginning to think the mountain is roughly the height of infinity. At the same time, Lance Armstrong and company are like, pushing past us on their mountain bikes at a stupidly incomprehensible speed and North-Face outfitted senior citizens are passing us on their way back down from the top.

The top, which we didn't make it to.

We asked one of these intrepid geriatrics exactly how much further up it was, to which we were informed, "well, its about another half hour to the 2.7 mile mark [fyi, NOT the top] so if you don't have any more water I'd say that's something to consider." Oh, the smug look on his face as he brushed past us. Yes, I get it. You are old and in better shape at 60 than I am at 25.

So today, I am sore (is it really a good sore?) and still tired, and I don't even have triumphant photos to show for it. So in conclusion, hiking: would I go again? Perhaps. But not unless I know I can get to the top, and if that means I have to start by climbing up something a little less ambitious like to the top of the parking structure at the Arclight then so be it.

Senior citizens be damned.

In defense of Gobbles...

2005-11-11T16:28:00.000-05:00

So after I posted my now infamous "dog and a bike" manifesto, I received some feedback from some haters who deigned to tell me that "Gobbles" is not an acceptable name for a dog.

First of all, Gobbles the beagle may not even be born yet for all I know, so I am forced to defend what may be my as-of-yet unborn puppy. You are disparaging the name of a dog that hasn't even been born yet. How can you people looks yourselves in the mirror?

OK secondly, as to the claims that my dog will be a Nazi, I simply say: no. Gobbles is the name of a lovable beagle puppy, friend to people of all races and creeds. Not to be confused with Joseph Goebbels, chief propagandist and leader of the third reich. Lets examine the differences:

Goebbels: best friend is Hitler. Instrumental in the execution of the holocaust, he kills himself and his family rather than face consequences for atrocities committed during WWII.
Gobbles: likes meat-flavored biscuits and smelling other dogs' behinds. Best friend is his soccer ball shaped chew toy. Also enjoys long periods of having his belly scratched.

Again, very clearly, not the same.

Next point of contention: the assertion that the name Gobbles calls to mind the eating of food, gobbling, or Thanksgiving. And what, might I ask, is so wrong about these allusions? Also as previously discussed on The Heathernet, food is a glorious thing. Thanksgiving is a celebration of that glory. Hence, Gobbles, who will undoubtedly be a little fatty like his owner, will have a perfectly suitable and apt name.

Finally, 'Gobbles' sounds like 'Goblin'? Please. Which one of us has not had their name turned into some lame play on words in junior high by kids who are now working as cashiers at their local Savon? No name is free from this kind of abuse, and as my dad would say, it builds character.

Gobbles, never be ashamed of who you are. I wouldn't name you Gobbles if I thought other puppies would make fun of you at the dog park. You have a lovely name. But is that what counts? What counts is here, in your heart. You have to be yourself.

[And please please don't prove me being wrong by being a Nazi.]

I love you!

Spotlight: lunch

2005-11-10T17:37:00.000-05:00

Isn't lunchtime the best? Taking a brief respite from the madness of phones, meetings, filing, dealmaking, faxes, and the like to sit down to what one hopes will be a fantastic meal and a well earned break. Sadly, this honor is not something normally bestowed on me during my typical workday.

But not today!

Today the illustrious Devo 4 (my squad of hard-working development team members) left the phones on voicemail as the bosses were all out to lunch, and took a field trip in the runner-mobile.

While we were initially startled by the shining orb in the sky (which we later learned goes by the name 'sun'), our eyes began to adjust to the light and we squinted around in search of the restaurant. Once we got there, the normally fearless Devo 4 were uncharacteristically disoriented.

"is that a menu?"
"wait, what's going on here?"
"seriously, I don't understand, do we order here? is that tuna?"

After the initial confusion, I tried to calm one member of the posse down by pointing him in the direction of his familiar friend and old standby, the turkey sandwich. This backfired.

"What? I don't want you guys giving me crap because 'ohh, Jeff's having a turkey sandwich: a-gain!' I'm getting the pasta salad." Well, imagine his surprise when he found out the pasta salad contained his mortal enemy, blue cheese. That's when it pays to be loyal to the friends who have been loyal to you. Lesson learned.

So, we sat out on the patio, with all the suits that work in the area, and overall enjoyed a perfectly lovely lunch. In fact, we took to it so naturally that the time literally flew by, and it was soon time to race back to the office before our bosses discovered we had breached the borders of the compound. Sigh. Until next time, elusive lunch...

Meet Off in the Corner

2005-11-09T22:13:00.000-05:00

Bowling.
A sport of champions. Only true, hardcore, renegade competitors can ever experience the beauty that is aggresive bowling. Thats where Off in the Corner comes in.

You see that photo above? Look at those hardened expressions: we are ready to fucking crush people. Oh, you thought I was kidding? Think twice, fool.

Scared of the people in the photo on the right? Well you should be, because they are the stuff nightmares are made of. Mary has a lethal throw that reverbrates through the entire bowling alley. Eric just looks at the pins and they evaporate. You have not prepared to get served like this.

In all seriousness, dancing aside, we are the baddest team ever to emerge out of Pico's mean Bayshore Lanes. So watch your backs, bitches. I'm already bored of warning you.

-Fatty McGutterpants

A dog and a bike

2005-11-09T18:19:00.000-05:00

I've come to the conclusion that all I need to be happy is a dog and a bike.

I've tried to deny it through other means (dulling my senses with alcohol, liaisons with questionable gentlemen) but really, I think I have found the answer. So now to put it into action, right?

Now, living on a main 6-lane thoroughfare in the dead center of LA and working 12 hour days have both been interfering with my goal. The following are factors that I think could improve my chances of achieving happiness:

1) quitting my job. Would improve hours I could spend with Gobbles (my future Beagle) tho it might significantly limit what Gobbles could eat. Plus bike maintenence would be difficult without income.

2) moving to Venice. Gobbles would have lots more room to play, plus, he could run alongside me as I pedal my way down Abbot Kinney. I'm not sure that Gobbles would necessarily enjoy the beach tho, he/she(?) might not take to the water... we'll take things slowly...

3) having a roommate who could spend time at said Venice house during the day to look after Gobbles and still bring home enough money to help split the rent. Preferably a nice looking boy who could also adopt the role of cuddle buddy. Acceptable lines of work: writer, artist, carpenter, landscape architect, architect architect, chef, independently wealthy trust fund heir, grass-roots activist, composer, other. Unacceptable lines of work: actor. model. etc.
[note: if you are a 'heterosexual' male and drive over an hour in order to get a haircut, you can consider yourself in the same category as gentlemen in the aforementioned occupations]

4) Getting a big payday for all the hardwork I am putting in so I can afford a fancy alarm system for my sweet bicycle and the finest in doggy day care.

Gobbles, have no fear. I am already saving my pennies for a bike and a deposit on a little beach cottage for us.

Food: A love letter

2005-11-08T19:51:00.000-05:00

Sometimes when I am down, I forget what's important to me. You know who never forgets about me? Yes, food: you.

Remember that night at the sushi restaurant in Santa Barbara? Or the magical time we had over Thanksgiving a few years back? These memories will be with me forever, treasured, as our relationship continues to blossom...

Food, you have always been there when I needed you. You don't judge. If I look like crap and am in a bad mood, do you reject me? No, rather, you are there to embrace me. Do you care that sometimes I demand too much of you? Not at all; in fact, you are often there with open and loving arms, offering me more. Sometimes I don't even have to call: you are already there.

So let me just explain, that while I have tried my best to hold back, or even take some time apart, I can say with some confidence that I will never leave you again. After lunch today, it became all too clear: you are the love of my life.

Never forget that.
hj