Could you pick me up some beer?

I imagine the clerks at CVS think I am not only a lunatic, but a raging alcoholic. It's an easy place to stop on my way home from work to get beer, chapstick, wine, bubble gum, vodka, or if I'm feeling naustalgic, a 40.  While getting a shopping cart full of booze this afternoon I was getting a , "Jesus! Lady" look from the cashier and I had a great conversation in my head explaing to him the need for so much alcohol:  I'm 30 and I just moved back home with my parents (thus the bottle of vodka).  My brother is 29 and he, too, just moved home (thus the two 24 packs of beer).  My Mom just had her two adult children move home (thus the two BIG bottles of wine).  This is logic!  They say you can never go home.  I think it's more accurate to say: You can go home, just be ready to consume large quantities of alcohol. Haha. 

If They Only Dripped Wine

Long time, no post, my friends.  Sorry about that.  My goal is to get back into writing with a passion.  That's the idea, right?  I have that.  My goal is to make you laugh or at least smile (I'm talking to you hard asses out there). I'm trying to harness my inner Hemingway.  Not sure I really have that, but I am half-drunk, and that was his thing, so I can't go wrong. Now we have to decide on a topic.  I have little neon stickies on my desk, but nothing to stick them to.  I have a million ideas running through my stubborn little gourd but not sure what to pick as my next project.  I am focusing on forgiveness right now, so maybe I should talk about that.  I hate to get too preachy to y'all, though because I've been there. This awesomeness, this zen, this peace that I feel now didn't happen over night.  I can't tell you to blink five times and cross your eyes for 45 minutes and you will be happy.  It doesn't work like that.  Things have to "click" for you. It sounds weird or cheesy, but it's true.  You have to be ready to be happy. To laugh. To accept good.  All of that from a pad of post it stickies? They're neon and I love bright colors.  They  remind me of the hair bands I loved as a kid (not the kind that held my hair back, but Def Leppard, Motely Crue, and Poison) and I get excited.

What makes you laugh?  Look around you and see the positive that you associate with your surroundings.  If the things around you don't make you smile, throw them in the trash! Because nothing makes me smile like saying, "Fuck that!" and throwing stupid stuff in the trash can!

Just Writing Thoughts

I'm rarely at a loss for words.  My roommate lost a loved one a few days ago and I don't know what to say.  It's one of those situations where words just aren't enough.  I've never experienced a loss on this level, so I have no experience to draw from to try and find the right words.  I'm out of town, so just being there isn't possible.  It's hard for me to even call because I don't know what to do.  I feel lost and unhelpful.  And it sucks.

But They Feel Gravity

I'm coming up on my two year mark in California.  Man, is that ever weird to say.  It's been a crazy journey.  I think coming out of film school, we expect to be instantly recognized for our genius and handed millions of dollars to make our brilliant minds blossom onto the big screen.  Ha! PA jobs aren't even easy to come by.  I jokingly say, "You've got to give head to get ahead."  Sadly, it's not far off.  Filmmaking.  What a trip.  You learn very early on that all the Hollywood glamour has very little to do with the actual production of a film.  And if that shit was important to me, I would be in a very different career path.  Filmmaking is tedious to say the least.  I always laugh when my friends come onto set for the first time and then leave after an hour.  I can see how they think it's boring.  It's certainly a slow process.  And it is a lot of hard work.  So much sweat and man power goes into making a film.  There's a lot of hurry up and waiting going on.  It takes a very patient person to be in this industry.  But I love it.  I have from the beginning and I can't see myself doing anything else.  That's why I'm still here.  I'm still trying to pave my own path.  Good thing I come from a family with really strong work ethic.  It keeps me going.  It's hard sometimes not to freak out or give up.  There is a lot of pressure out there to be in certain places at certain ages.  And I've never been one to really give a shit about rules or conventions, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the pressure.  But I've got to harness Frank Sinatra and Sid Vicious and do it my way, right?

Navigating New Territory

I joined a gym.  This isn't the first time, but it's the first time I've seriously used my membership.  Gyms are intimidating as hell.  Especially to chubby girls, like me.  The machines, the beautiful people, the mirrors (they're everywhere), it's a lot to take in.  I've always started out with good intentions, but I always end up feeling ridiculous or too silly to ask for help.  But I guess I've finally gotten to the point that getting in shape is more important to me than caring if I look a little ridiculous.  The good news is, after two months, I have some insight into gym culture.  I will let you all in on what I've figured out so far.

So we all know the stereotype of the Meat Head.  The ripped, protein-shake chugging, beef cakes that look pretty hot until they open their mouths.  They're there, but I don't find them nearly as interesting as the girls that go to the gym to meat these assholes.  I never really believed that girls (in full make-up and hair all gussied up) went to the gym and just half-assed it so they could meet guys until I witnessed it first hand.  These girls look amazing.  I will give them that.  But it's not because they work out.  They come in packs.  And they usually stick to the stationary bikes so they can sort of pedal a bit, but they are there to watch the Meatheads.  I guess it's the gym version of a Snow Bunny.  I don't know, and it baffles me.  They don't come everyday.  Mostly on the weekends and you can't miss them because they're giggly as hell.

Next, we have the weekday morning aerobics classes.  Cue the housewives.  This crowd is pretty obvious. They only come during the week and to classes that happen while the kids are at school.  A pretty fit group.  A little gossipy, but it makes me laugh.  These classes are my favorite, because they are the least crowded and let's face it,  Moms are nice and I don't feel like they're sizing me up. Haha.

Oooooh! And let's not forget the Cougars.  These huntresses have to stay in shape.  Young, virile men aren't looking to get Couged by an older lady that isn't sexy as hell.  And these women know it.  I've been in the middle of some serious Cougar chats at the gym and you dudes don't know what the hell you're getting yourself into.  These women are professionals.  They are going to eat you alive.  And I'm gonna sit back and watch the show.  I think it's fascinating.  Maybe I should be shooting a documentary on this shit.  I do know these women can run circles around me.  While I'm sweating gallons, deep breathing, and turning bright red like a freakin' cherry tomato, these babes are slightly glistening and preparing for the prowl.  It's good to have something to look forward to if I get my ass in gear...

Then there's my peeps.  People that actually need to be at the gym and they waited a bit too long before realizing it.  We're easy to spot.  Bright red, dripping with sweat, gritting our teeth.  I want to high five all of them.  It takes a lot of guts to get started and I'm proud of us.  Haha.

Okay so maybe I really only talked about the different groups of women at the gym.  Truth is I try not to check out guys at the gym.  I'm already intimidated as hell being there.  And the last thing I want to to do is draw any attention to my super sweat drenched self.  It's not cool at all and I really am not at the gym to meet dudes.  I think I would start to lose my nerve if I thought I had to make eye contact or even talk to the men at the gym.  Maybe once I get over this phobia, I can break them down more for you.  The only guy I can really talk about is the one in my Zumba class and his girlfriend makes him go. So there are two things I can write: I feel sorry for him (especially since he is the only male and the instructor makes him come up on stage every time) and that he is a way better dancer than I am (which is kind of sad).

I think I've ranted enough about the gym.  Feel free to ask questions!  I am a fountain of info. Haha.

Especially When Melting

In the middle of making some major changes in my lifestyle, I find it funny to look at the things I am having trouble letting go of.  I don't know how to untangle myself from these images, ideas, habits, and labels.  I worry about losing some part of myself.  I don't want to be less me, yet I want to be more than I am.  Evolve as a person.  We become comfortable or at least complacent in the terms used to define us.  The funny one.  The drunk girl.  The loud one.  The fat chick.  The loud-drunk-funny-fat girl.

Somewhere in this mess is the person I want to be.

Punches in the Gut

Man, I am cranky today. I didn't wake up that way.  I've just been dealing with A-holes all day and it's starting to rub off.  That and I am having major cramps.  I'd like to say that the bitchiness associated with the female mensus is false, but it's not.  I'm a raving bitch today and it's no small coincidence that my period is involved.  I'm trying to make myself write something nice.  It's not going so well.  I think I've deleted about three paragraphs already.  There is a really pretty orchid blooming accross from my desk right now. Does that count? 

Let's think about something awesome:


Ice cold beer.  Now I'm feeling a little better.  This positive thinking shit really works.  Just looking at that picture made me feel pretty happy.  Now we can talk about something that makes me laugh.  Me at the gym.  It's pretty comical.  I tried a Zumba class.  It was ridiculous!  The room was packed and all of the women looked pretty sexy working out.  I on the other hand was a lost, chubby girl.  You want me to do what with my pelvis?!?  Not to mention the profuse sweating and the bright red face.  And lucky me, there are about a gazillion mirrors in the room.  So if there was a moment where I thought, "Hey, I think I'm getting this."  All I had to do was look up and realize, "Oh, no kit kat, you don't!".  Haha.  Someday.  I think it's important to be able to laugh at yourself, right?