Sense Memory

Yesterday was exhausting, Grams was admitted to St. John's Hospital in Santa Monica in the early hours of Sunday morning. I of course did not hear anything about it until 6:15 Sunday night, and it gets worse. The only time in 10 years my phone has not been in an audible distance, and I don't check it until 10:30pm, and I was stuck with nothing to possibly do till Monday morning. By that time...it was 1:30 am on the East Coast-I didn't want to wake my mother, and I wasn't about to call the Hospital at that time either. So I took care of everything, Monday morning am...and went to see my Grams. I guess yesterdays events took me to today's "truth"...

In the car this morning, on my 20 minute (lovely) commute to work...I turned on K-Earth 101.1....yes I like the oldies but they also have a traffic report unlike my go to Jack FM...while I was listening to the traffic report I was transported back to the days of my youth. See, while my Grams and almost the entire rest of my family lived here in Los Angeles, my immediate family lived in our states Capitol. SACRAMENTO...ugh. My parents sent me to LA during the summer months to spend time with Grams, every morning at the butt crack Grams would get me up, get me dressed and we would make the hour long commute from her condo in Encino to Mort's Palisades Deli, where she worked with her Brother, Mort (my great uncle), as the Deli's book keeper. Every morning grams would have N.P.R playing on the radio. This morning, as I am listening to the traffic report, the 405 and 118 both backed up. I got this sense, it felt like it did on those mornings back in the late 80's. Cool, crisp, sunny...but this time, the overwhelming sense that I was safe and taken care of, was gone. It was replaced with the knowledge that nothing ever stays the same- that you in fact do get to "return the favor", that now...it's my turn.

In the Comments Section

I troll the internet looking for interesting peoplescentric stories almost everyday. Even though I know better, even though I know where it will lead, I always make my way down to the comment section to see everybody else's take.

Big Mistake...let's ignore the assholes who post ad's for "working mothers", " work at home" scams, internet porn, webcam chicks or the crazy weight-loss trends and get right to the meat of the situation.

These people are so stupid...seriously! Most of them cannot construct a simple sentence. I'm not saying I can, but at least you can read my blog and understand the point I am trying to make. I use spell check, which is way more than I can say for the crazy comment mass's.

I have to stop myself from making measly attempts to try and piss these people off. I get so much joy from thinking about what I would say to these idiots who think the are the be all end all. When they come back to reply to another dumb fuck and reinforce what an ass they are, it makes me even more crazy. They are ignorant pricks who think the bible belt is what holds up their pants. I do find it fascinating however, the way these douche bag brains work. NOM, Republican, Right Wing...Mother Fuckers. I really just want to track them down and sterilize them. But alas...I cannot. For fear or being lynched because I am a woman...and a gay woman at that.

It's always Something...

It being Monday, you already wake up with a bad taste in your mouth. I'm not talking morning breath, I'm talking Monday Morning Breath. It's bad when you already have the "ugh...I have do do this again" look out. But when you leave your house at the normal hour, and traffic ads an extra 15 min to your commute- and nothing goes according to plan you sit in that stinky Monday funk. It's 3:44pm and I am still stinky people, I can't scratch my way out. I'm not sure what it is, but that hefty feeling resides over my head like a poop filled balloon just waiting to drop.

One thing goes wrong and it's all over for me, I'm convinced I am doomed. It's the end of the world, everything begins to fall apart and I can't do anything right. I wish I could dissipate into the air like mist from a humidifier. Yet I am still here, as real as ever...dealing with it.

Cookin with Gas

Being a slave to an all you can eat Buffet for 30 days is quite a challenge, besides trying to find something healthy to eat when as far as the eye can see "is belly fat, and chubby thighs"-you also have the same choice's all day everyday. So when I arrived home, I dove right back into my love of creative cooking. Now I usually take a look as some recipes, and go from there but for the past two nights I flew by the seat of my respective American eagle jeans and dove right in.

Last night I tried my hand at fish taco's. Ok, yes I get how to some of you the fact I made fish taco's is quite amusing, but you would stop laughing the moment you actually tasted them.

Next time I will do a few things different... but here is the list from last night.

Four (4) pacific cod fillets dusted with the following; garlic powder, sea salt and fresh ground pepper, paprika and chili powder. Pan fried in a little bit of evoo and lime juice-cooked till a crust formed on both sides, and chopped up for taco filler.

For toppings: Both green and red cabbage (damn Von's for not carrying Napa cabbage-but I use what I can find)

Pico De Gallo

Avocado, chopped

A sour cream sauce that was divine- this is where I leave you hanging with the ingredients. What I will tell you was the base- Adobo.

Cilantro

Corn

and DAMN WERE THEY GOOD!!!

Now, the night before I made Turkey Curry. I have never made a curry sauce before and I will look harder next time for a good curry power to use but overall it was great.

Turkey Medallions, green beans, garbonzo beans, and cauliflower in a yellow curry over brown rice. I will make it for you next time you come over :)

Random Conversation and Weird People

January 17, 2007 - Wednesday

Random conversation and weird people So, since I have nothing to do here at work (at the moment) I've decided to blog to take up some time. I take smoke breaks every two hours; there is this really strange guy who works on my floor. I don't know his name, and I can't place his accent, but he always ends up outside during my me times. My "me" times can be described in two words...smoking alone. This guy obviously has no idea that I want my me times, that I treasure my me times, that at work-smoking is a solitary thing. No, he insists on having a conversation when all I want to do a stare off into nothingness and puff away. He asks questions, he tells me random facts about nothing at all, and acts as if we have a nicotine connection. I do nothing to encourage this man...I avoid eye contact, answer in short bursts and tend to put my cig out before I'm even done with it...because he makes me that uncomfortable. Today he told me that I should be working from home since my bosses are out, and he went on an on about the differences between ...New York, LA, and San Francisco. Normally this discussion would have been a pleasure to have- with someone other than him. This man is by no means better than the homeless guy I pass everyday on my way to pick up lunch BUT- at least the homeless guy makes comments about my tits, and asks nothing of me but a smile. Which I give-if I think the tit comment is especially inventive. I might have to start taking the long route outside and smoke in a different spot from now on...damn you weird accent guy

The Mystery Revealed, Originally Posted January 2007

January 16, 2007 - Tuesday

I'd like to lodge a complaint! Category: Jobs, Work, Careers Even though I am a busy bee today... on the fast track to quick like bunny. I would like to lodge a complaint. I share my office floor with 4 other MEN, now the only other woman is my line producer who happens to not be here today. There are two other floors in this building that house maybe a total of 4 women. So ladies-why do you insist on taking shit's in the 2nd floor womens bathroom. Now, I really wouldn't mind so much...but come on...I've purchased lysol, citrus spray, there is even a toilet brush, and pretty smelling handsoap. USE them!!! I bought them for you, I don't crap at work....it's mixing two things I don't care for. Working and shit! So I guess the moral of this story is...don't poo on my turf, poo on your own. January 25, 2007 - Thursday Mystery Revealed Ok...alright. I've figured it out. So...MY OFFICE BATHROOM It isn't girls....apparently the guys use the girls bathroom....mother fuckers. Why? Why would you do that....there are TWO for a reason. I think I might just take the guys bathroom...put a Jessica sign up there over the man with the pants. Because, I'm tired of smelling your shit. Really, it makes me gag- and hold my nose. I'm too old to hold my nose...if I have to go so far as to put a sign up then I will. Because damn yo' ass stink. Eat some bran and shit at home....jeez

Dumb Things I do when drunk, originally posted 9/9/06

September 9, 2006 - Saturday

Dumb things I do when drunk First off I did not get home until 6:45 am. And I am up now because I can't sleep anymore, but I'm fucking exhausted. My cab driver loves me, he wants to take me out and get to know me personally. He thinks I'm beautiful, and have a great smile. He wants to hold me....He kept asking...."what are you doing to me?" If I heard "I feel so happy, so happy, right now, I would take you any where, I would take you to the moon" One more time, I would have thrown up. Apparently I have an amazing capacity to love and it show's all over my face, I am intelligent, and friendly and lovely.This is all well and good, but Sir you have an obviously very drunk and very tired girl in your cab, who only wants to go home and go to sleep, and you are scaring her. Besides the fact that it took a full hour for me to get home in a cab because this jerk off went 20 miles per hour and took me on a residential tour of queens, I was pretty positive I was going to get raped, possibly killed. I told him to just take me home, and he said he didn't want to because our time together would be over. Why can't I inspire this kind of attention in people I'm actually attracted to? Wait, maybe I don't want to do that...one stalker is is one too many for me. So the moral of this story is never smile at cab drivers. However, I didn't have to pay for the cab home.. I narrowly missed getting raped, and I have a cabby who loves me. Everything is ok with the world.

A realization, originally posted 2.1.07

February 1, 2007 - Thursday

A REALizATION Alrighty, I have been a member of the workforce since I was 13. Yes- years in between now and then I was not employed- but it was at 13 that I held my first job as Kindergarten TA for the Sunday school class at my synagogue. At 13 I didn't mind pouring juice and wiping snot for the tot's, I liked creating art projects and getting a healthy yummy snack ready for the little nuggets. I tend to refer to children under the age of 6 by small food items and pop able candy- like goobers, and raisenetts (blame it on my father). A few years went by, and after my move at 15 years old from the west to the east coast, I started working at the Greater Hartford JCC as an after school care provider- K-5. Now, this was a little more challenging- homework- cranky kids after school- this one Six year old who always smelled like shit (and I mean shit, literally he smelled like poo- ok enough of that). I did that for a while, worked for my father for a summer in his office- mostly stuffing envelopes and making drops of legal papers and other crap. I worked retail at Pottery Barn- so I learned how to BS customers into thinking I knew what I was talking about- I mean who really needs to know the entire Pottery Barn lighting department? I also became the fastest on returns at the register in PBWestfarms history. After I graduated I started working as a cater waiter and bartender for Café Louise out of New Britain, CT. I continued to work for her during my winter and summer breaks- this was awesome- great tips and usually a bottle or two of wine from the host if they liked my shining personality and winning smile. I tried to work during the year, but not only did I have little patience for the Pottery Barn manger who was a TOWERING 6 foot 2 Asian man that yelled at me for no reason, but I had little time. With all my rehearsals and reading, class work- and oh yeah DRINKING- I just couldn't cut it- plus- the asshole pottery barn manager- just proved to me (maybe the first in a long line of firsts) that you can never go back again. This is where it all began- seriously- this is where my negative feeling towards authority figures and bosses made a wrong turn. When I graduated (on time) from college- I began looking for jobs- it took me 6 months to find a waitressing job at a local family owned pizza parlor. I began to laugh when I just wrote that- forgive me. I got this job through my best friend and roommate at the time Donna, after I went through training and learned the pyramid of authority at the Restaurant, things began to get more difficult. I was constantly berated by the owners and managers (owner's sons) for mistakes made by the kitchen and the elderly patrons who frequented the establishment. Not that I didn't make mistakes on my own- they happen- but this constitutes being a little out of control. I got hit on by members of the mob (well, I can't say that for sure but-you know- it was Queens New York) and after two years it became unbearable. So I gave two weeks notice and left after one. I began another job search while working part time for the Manhattan JCC as an after school care provider (again)- no issues there. Just kids with control issues, ADD, attitude and money (truly a winning combo- I dare say) and part time with Restaurant Associates- a large catering corporation where they referred to you by number. I finally landed a job as a receptionist with a small boutique real estate firm for shit money and no perks. They paid me under the table, I worked 8:30 am to 6:00 pm rarely if ever took a lunch break, and dealt with a President/Vice President-Husband/Wife team. I worked, I hated being told what to do, but I did have fun most of the time- miscommunication- no clarity in the position, and agents who never worked the right way made it difficult. I moved up the ladder quickly, from reception to office assistant/personal assistant- to Office Administer in about a year. They expanded had two offices- and I was there for all of it. I grew with the company- I cared about the people. I made a wonderful group of friends- BUT I hated my job. I decided to move…cross country. They were sad to see me go, threw me going away parties, and gave me an amazing farewell. I arrived back on the west coast after about 11 years- ready to make a change. I did- from Real Estate to film production. Yet still, everyday-realizing that as a rule, I don't really like being told what to do. So, as I sit here- at my new(ish) job. I think, what am I going to do when I grow up?

Is it too much to ask?

In my days before returning to the left coast I blogged almost everyday about the usually unusual happenings in the Subway and streets of NYC. Since I arrived here in Los Angeles- I have not come across anything as unusual as a seemingly normal person watching porn (without the use of headphones) on his mini dvd player on an uptown 9, or the small Asian ladies who would bark and shove me to make sure they and their push carts got on to the 7 train, all the while running over me and my new high heels to make sure they got out. I have not seen a bum pee into a water bottle on public transport and I haven't been cursed at for hailing a taxi and getting in it before an upper eastsider claims I am stealing his ride-while he stood at a distance under a canopy during a summer rainstorm and yelled at his wife on his cell phone. Sadly, I miss the characters- and endless ability to people watch. Is that so wrong? Besides Venice beach and the occasional hooker on Hollywood Blvd. I just don't come across these people anymore. Where have they gone? I'm positive they exist here in the Land of the fur coat in summer time-but do I just not pay attention anymore-am I waisting my time driving? I could use the "GULP" public transportation system here in la la land..but would it be worth it?
The two or three people I see a week picking their nose while on the 134, just isn't cutting it. Is Los Angeles just too spread out to get access to the nut jobs, assholes, pricks, bitches, sluts, old bitty's and dirty old men-all in one place? Nothing quite compares to the ny subway-everybody takes the subway. The bum's to Mr. Wall Street. It's the ultimate inspiration for people watchers, and noticers such as myself. Someone please inspire me...

Things I have come to know 2004...2009 coming soon.

Thursday, December 2, 2004
9:44AM - Things I have come to know.
When that tall skinny girl is starting at you in the subway, it’s not because she thinks you’re ugly or fat. It’s because she is imagining that you are a gigantic loaded baked potato. What is fashion to you is crap to somebody else so go ahead and wear what you want, in a city this big someone is bound to pick up some trash.The recession special at grays papaya is the yummiest and cheapest meal in Manhattan.Gay men (born anywhere but here) are bitchier then a rich Manhattan born women. When writing in your journal on the subway be sure to let the older man next to you read over you shoulder, that way he can get to know you without really “getting to know you”If you take the “I’m not budging stance” when you are on the subway, stick to it. The worst thing to do is move for somebody, if you do you’ll be trapped in a corner, and when you try to get out the person you moved for won’t let you by, no matter how many times you say “excuse me”. (I have been known to use force when exiting the car).Your commute to and from work will always suck, even if you leave the house earlier or later, even if you take a different train. Most Dates and Even relationships are based on a dare. Find a job where you can wear your Pajama’s to work. (or something that you find just as comfortable)It’s ok to be a cliché (example: as a receptionist it is a joy to chew gum, file my nails, and answer the phone in an overly nasal voice) if it spices up your day.
Current mood: bored
Current music: Lauren Hill

Old Post's, please enjoy

Today, I am trying to motivate and write about my life, which is something I enjoy...but haven't done in, forever. Please raise your glass, for motivation....ps, I am pulling these from my livejournal blog (remember live journal, jeez) circa 2004-2006
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
12:24PM - Office....lingo, assholes, characters and annoyances
As I walked into work this morning I was greeted by my lovely VP who informs me that I have done something wrong (well more like forgotten to do something for about 3 months, Oh happy Day!) Which, just for your information is not true, the application I supposedly have left out of our new hire info packets has been there all along. Unfortunately no matter how much I like them, the new hires take awhile to catch on...putting two and two together does not always make four.....if you know what I mean. Meanwhile, on the other side of the cubicle, I hear my VP giving a lecture, or as she likes to call it reinforcement training, which is just a lot of common sense crap, with fancy wording......if I have to hear how you bridge an appointment, how hungry you must be to succeed in this business, how you need a mission, how to stay on the right side of the trouble line and basically how you have to lie, cheat and steal if you want to make it in sales, I’m gonna fucking puke. Damn you Mr. Sandler!!!!! On top of the fact that it’s gorgeous outside and I’m stuck in here till 6 pm, probably with no break, I have to sit on my already spreading ass and thighs and watch these nut jobs, deal with, most times even nuttier clients. They drive me to the brink, and let me tell you I am already there, so I have nowhere to go. You know how sometimes just the sight of someone drives you crazy. Well half of this office is tied for the number one spot. If you stand in front of my desk, waiting for me to notice you, ask you if you need something, tell you to go away or are expecting me to offer you some of my heavenly and damn expensive café latte...you got another thing coming bucko....because I’m not interested in what your cat did last night, how long you were in the bathroom this morning, how many guys you gave blow jobs too on the dance floor at splash, how many gallons of water I should be drinking a day, or to just sit and smile when you are plainly staring at my tits.....we are traveling on the same highway and your going 15 mph in the fast lane. Get the fuck out of my way, because I have a job to do. The most frustrating thing is that, in the simplest terms I work for you (I am your support staff, your administrative goddess, your secretary, and most importantly your receptionist) Don’t cross me, don’t piss me off, and DO NOT BERATE ME (I’m talking management here) Just like you have no tolerance for numbers being discussed in public, no tolerance for client prospects being discussed in public, and the inability to use spell check (yes, I understand that has no connection but I had to throw it in) Does not mean you have the right to berate me in front of my co-workers. You do realize that I log all this negativity away to use on that special day when I either quit or have had enough of your bull crap to yank you into your loft like office digs and tell you exactly where to shove it so you either fire me for being “insubordinate”, or apologize profusely and give me a raise. I am tired, I have spring fever, I need a PAID vacation, and I want to be respected.Sadly, it’ll never happen.
Current mood: working

So, since I have not actually written anything in quite some time, I decided to inspire myself with REALLY OLD BLOG POSTS FROM 2005. Hoping to reignite that old flame for witty/wry/writings. Enjoy.
Thursday, April 7, 2005
10:48AM - stop staring at my crotch
I was on the subway last night heading to the upper west side and some middle aged Jewish guy who's yarmulke was slightly crook't off to the left side clinging to the few wisps of comb over with a gold bobby pin kept staring at my crotch. Why or why Jewish guy were you staring at my crotch...there is nothing prominent in the area..... as I am a GIRL and do not posses a penis, shlong, cock, or any other form of DICK...(except when I take the initiative to strap one on)..So once again why are you staring and my chotch? There is no stain present on my jeans, my very real tits are displayed prominently in my tight eeyore t-shirt which by the way I stole from my 13 year old sister, so there is no way I could possibly be a trannie, queen, or cross dresser. I would definitely appreciate if you took the hint to stop staring at my lower private area when I so noticeably, angrily, and outwardly, looked directly at you and gave you the dirtiest look I have available. Which can best be described as a Keep doing what your doing buddy and I will kick your ass, followed by a few you fucking perverts, finished off with a I have no problem making a scene in public. Thankfully I scared the shit out of you when I purposely followed you off the car and into the street at a very close proximity, looking as ominous as I could in chucks, jeans, an eeyor t-shit, and carrying a pink adidas bag. Luckily you got off at the same stop and walked in the direction I was going. I am still questioning the reason you were staring at my clothed vagina (yes I did just use the word vagina). And if I see you again, I must remember to stare perversely at your non existent breasts.
Current mood: amused

H.U.G.S

In the way back of my memory, which is not too long ago-however it seems as though it is. I have snapshots and short video clips of a former self. A self who got satisfaction from making someone feel welcome. Who found that hugs were meaningful, comfortable and necessary. Who hugged strangers and those first met when saying goodbye...and hello. For the most recent newly met group, I have not been so emotionally communicative. In fact after our opening night the thought of hugs was nowhere in my mind. A few actors and the director approached me and I had my once enveloping arm out for a handshake instead of a hug. I have no idea where the former self went.