30 Days to a Better Blogger

Didn't think I was coming back, didja?

I am pleased to announce that I have officially moved to La-La Land, and will no longer be commuting to Orange County for 2-3 hours a day, and will therefore have time to tend to my bloggie baby.  

One of my friends informed me that I was blogging less now than when I didn't live in LA, and I have to say that he is right.  This is annoying and dumb and must be rectified immediately.

Therefore, I have chosen to embark on the "30 Day Blogger Challenge." I credit my friend Alex Butts for this idea and inspiration, and I am totally not sure if I can do it.  Given my track record, it's looking like a stretch. Heck- at this point, two days is looking like a stretch.

I will persevere, however, jump back on this bandwagon, take life by the reigns, and carpe diem. 

Like, every diem.  

This is what we have to look forward to... Get ready for Day 23, it could get a bit melodramatic.

Day 0: The 30 Day Challenge Explanation and Description
Day 1: Introduce, recent picture of yourself, 15 interesting facts
Day 2: Meaning behind your blog name
Day 3: Your first love
Day 4: Your parents
Day 5: A song to match your mood
Day 6: A picture of something that makes you happy
Day 7: Favorite movies
Day 8: A place you've traveled to
Day 9: A favorite picture of your best friend
Day 10: Something you're afraid of
Day 11: Favorite TV shows
Day 12: Something you don't leave the house without
Day 13: Goals
Day 14: A picture of you last year - how have you changed?
Day 15: Bible verse
Day 16: Dream house
Day 17: Something you're looking forward to
Day 18: Favorite Place to Eat
Day 19: Something you miss
Day 20: Nicknames
Day 21: Favorite Picture of yourself ALL TIME Why? 
Day 22: What's in your purse? 
Day 23: Favorite Movie 
Day 24: Something you've learned 
Day 25: Put your iPod on shuffle, first 10 songs
Day 26: Your Dream Wedding
Day 27: Original Photo of the city you live in
Day 28: Something that stresses you out
Day 29: 3 Wishes
Day 30: a picture of yourself this day and 5 good things that happened since you started the challenge

And now I simply must go to bed.  Er, go watch the season premiere of Entourage and then go to bed.   

A girl has to have her priorities, right?

"Work, work, All week long..."

Quick! Name that country song!

Okay, it's Alan Jackson's "Good Time."  It's also becoming increasingly more popular on my radio, as my work hours become increasingly longer.

Coincidence? I think not.

You see, my radio and I have this cosmic connection.  For example, I have a bit of an unhealthy obsession with Selena Gomez's song "Who Says."  I literally stalk 20 on 20, Hits 1, The Blend, and The Pulse for this song.  I have heard it on all of these stations and I have a sort of fear of missing it while I am in the car.  When I stumble upon the last chorus of "Na na na na na na na na na na na na na!" and miss the rest of the song I feel an incredible amount of disappointment.

I know this is strange, and a sane person would just buy the dang song on iTunes.  But as I'm sure we've established, I am not exactly what you'd call sane.

Now, I feel like I must explain my obsession before you judge me more.  Here goes... "Who Says" came out right around the time I was leaving for California.  It's so inspirational.  I feel like it validates my entire decision to move out to this crazy land.  I swear, the line where she says, "Who says you can't be in movies, listen to me, listen TO me!" was written for me.  Not that I want to actually be in movies... but you catch my drift.  I cling to this song like a sort of lifeline, and if I don't hear it on my hour to hour-and-a-half drive each morning, I fear my day will be awful.

And no, I'm not superstitious.  At all.

So yes, I'm a big believer in the fate of Sirius XM radio DJ's choices and my life choices.  So lately, Alan Jackson's "Good Time" is simply taking over.

This could be due to the fact that I listen to country music more here than I ever did in Texas (I'm blaming this on whole "grass is always greener" theory) or the radio is just reading my mind again.  Because, borrowing Mr. Jackson's lyrics, I truly do work, work, all week long, punching the clock, dusk 'til dawn.  And by that I mean that I leave my house around 8am and get home around 9pm.

This is nuts, by the way, but I love it.

I do exciting things all day like figure out how to work phone systems, set up camcorders, make copies of scripts, and stalk actors.  It's fun.

(When I say "stalk," I mean it in a very professional manner, by the way.  My stalking involves calling their agent to ask about their availability, and if they are not available, which city I could find them in.  So not creepy at all.)

I have one small qualm with Mr. Jackson's lyrics, though.  Kinda the main point, actually.

When the week is done, all I want to do is sleep.  Mr. Jackson is tired, doesn't want to sleep but wants to have fun.


Looks like I'll be upping my caffeine intake.

Again.

Ringing in my Ears

I hear phones everywhere.  I am currently curled up in my fabulous (and newly Lindsay-fied) guest room and I swear to you, there are 4 angry agents, 2 producers and 3 late-for-audition actors trying to get my attention right now.

Three days into this job and all I hear are phones... everywhere.  They are haunting me.

The problem with the phones in the offices in which I work is that they ring at a very low volume.

So low that I imagine I am hearing them even when I am not.  So low that I have to carefully consider the blinking dot and analyze all the other blinking dots in the office to be sure I really do need to answer that call.

So low that when you accidentally confuse the blinking light for a call, when it is actually your boss on hold with the President of a major studio and you somehow inadvertently hang up on both of them, you feel like a doofus.

(Okay, so that didn't happen, but I came awfully stinking close.  Awwwwwwwfully stinking close.)

I think I might have nightmares about hostile phones with angry red lights tormenting me tonight. And constantly buzzing at a barely decipherable ring.

Brrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnggggggggggggggggg.........


Wish me luck.

P.S. Is there a "Mastering Office Phones with 57 lines for Dummies" book available?  Perhaps I should start there...

Wide Open Spaces

Guess what?!?!?

(I learned that little punctuation trick from my 13 year old sister, whose text messages usually contain 4x the amount of normally used punctuation.)

I MADE it to La La Land!

Er, well I made it close.  After a grueling 20 hours in the car with my Daddio, a pit stop and money-making venture in Vegas, and a final 5 hour stretch by myself, I rolled into Huntington Beach, where I will be residing with my incredibly generous and hospitable Uncle and Aunt until the big move to the city in about a month.

I guess I am a Californian now... weird.

(Every time I hear or say the word "Californian," it always comes out with Arnold Schwarzenegger's accent.  Again, weird.)

But let's start at the very beginning.  And pretend like I don't abandon this poor bloggie baby for weeks at a time.

My dad and I embarked on our adventure bright and early Wednesday morning, car packed to the brim and headed west.  We intended to stop in Flagstaff, Arizona, but alas, we didn't plan ahead and Flagstaff hotel rooms were a hot commodity on Wednesday.  So we carried on until 1 a.m. to Kingman, AZ.

We were tired.  17 hours and a little over 1000 miles is a lot of road to cover.

Sometime in those hours, the song "Wide Open Spaces" by the Dixie Chicks came on the radio.  Now, I clearly remember the album cover photo for this CD, because either all or some of the Chicks had tattoos on their toes.  And I remember thinking this was scandalous and awesome.  Anyway, I don't think I'd ever listened to the lyrics.  In many ways, it's me right now.  Heading west, needing to find her own place, make her own mistakes (can I skip this one, I wonder?) etc.  And I guess I had much more literal wide open space before, but I'm going to go with that anyway.

Also, we were in the middle of stinking wide open spaces.  For like, forever.

Next stop: VEGAS! My dad had the bright idea to swing by Vegas on the way, seeing as how I'd never seen this gem of a city and we are basically card sharks.

And I have to say, wow! Vegas! Look at you go!  This is a fun place folks.  We started with a quick tour of some hotels, which is entertainment in itself.

And the flowers in the Bellagio... swoon.

We dined well, saw some pretty incredible acrobatics, and hit the tables.

Now, like I said, we're pretty darn good gamblers.  We made a total of $125 playing Blackjack.  Super duper high rollers, as you can tell.

And then everything came crashing down.  The water and my tears.

Let me explain... The Bellagio has this fabulous water/light show every 15 minutes every night, and it is just plain gorgeous.  Who knew that water could be so captivating.  So we kept missing the start of the show, seeing the very end of "Your Song" once and the end of "One" from A Chorus Line the next time, until we finally got in prime viewing position for the last song of the evening.

The song was "Time to Say Goodbye." Possibly the most heartbreakingly beautifully haunting piece of music ever composed.

I love this song.  I listen to it when I'm feeling nostalgic and wanting to cry for no good reason.  I also want to walk down the aisle some day to a string quartet version of it.  (Staking my claim here and now, so don't even think about it friends.)

Here is a snippet...

Like, really, Bellagio? Time to freakin' say goodbye?

Ah, me.  So that was beautiful and tragic and amazing.

And now I've made it... to the land with absolutely zero wide open spaces.

And jobs looming on the horizon... translation: Monday.

Stay tuned...

Snake Farm

(WARNING: This post contains images that may induce nightmares, night terrors, and night seizures.  If you have night issues, it might be best to read this in the day.)

True life: My house is located on the edge of civilization.  We frequently have raccoons, tarantulas, coyotes, armadillos, centipedes, and even the occasional mountain lion roaming about.  To some this might seem scary, but we just like to think of it as our own little zoo.

With highly poisonous reptiles roaming freely, of course.

We were hosting a lovely little pool party on Friday night complete with Central Market cake (the addition of this novelty in Graham signals a super-special occasion) custom floral arrangements and queso.  Okay, so I arranged the flowers and Pioneer Woman inspired the queso, but I think you get the point... Clearly, this was one classy affair.

Our evening would have continued on uninterrupted if not for the appearance of one slithering friend.

This, city friends, is a copperhead.  (Sorry, city friends.  Y'all are just too easy of a target when I'm living in this wilderness.)  Copperheads are bad, bad, bad.  You can tell this by the triangular shape of their head.  You see, all the poison is stored in the jaw area, creating the "triangle" shape.

I didn't even make that up.

So, luckily my mom is a true Wilderness Woman and is always on alert for slithering friends at night time.  She shouted, my dad quickly grabbed a garden hoe, and we said our farewells to the serpent.

Seriously friends, click on the picture.  Or don't, depending on your aversion to reptiles and flesh wounds on said reptiles.

I mean, wow.  He almost looks alive.

So, as luck would have it, we met our second snakey friend of the weekend coming home from the lake.

Now our snake knowledge doesn't go much further than copper=bad, but all signs pointed to this little buddy being friendly.  Not too friendly though.  Anything that is four feet long and hisses must stay safely below the car window.  So we carried on.

Here's to hoping that was the last appearance of the serpentile variety for awhile.


Wait, they don't have snakes in California, do they?

Hair Feathering: Graham, TX Style

Hair feathers.  It is an interesting concept, no?  I mean, I guess I could see the appeal, there is a distinctly hippie-chic edge when feathering your head, and it seems to work well for Steven Tyler.

I mean, wow.  Who wouldn't want to look like that?

Don't answer that.

So, believe it or not, the craze that has swept everyone from Hillary Duff to Ke$ha has made it to small town America.  At the current time, there are approximately 3 school aged girls that are rocking the look, and there is a monopoly on the services to precisely one salon and one hairdresser in town.

Clearly, this is a hot-ticket item.

So, my younger sister decided that she wanted a feather in her hair to commemorate the last day of school and the beginning of summer.  Because she is the baby of the family, and my mom has some sort of desire to live her feathered-hair dreams vicariously through her, we had an appointment within the day.

Things like this seem to always work out for some people.  Am I right, middle children?

Anyway, my innovative neighbor was appalled at the idea of paying for a service such as feathering, when she had a perfectly good stack of feathers lying around her house just waiting to be stuck onto some poor, unsuspecting person's head.

This was her proposal.

These are pheasant feathers.  Like, straight off the bird.

That second one is an full blown wing.  Now wouldn't that be stylish?

(After reading on the official website that the feathers used in salons were sterilized and color-sealed, my neighbor was sure to note that these feathers were not sterilized.  Just to prevent any possible lawsuits.)

Anyway, she had also pulled out some sort of shot-gun shell type things to affix them to the hair.

(Actually, I don't really know what they were, but if I was making a hypothesis, I'd guess some sort of bullet.  But don't quote me on that.)

After we rolled on the floor for five minutes laughing, we tried to trim the feathers and shape them to appropriate hair feather dimensions.  Unfortunately, pheasant feathers have this annoying vein running through them that makes them stick out of one's head like some bad version of Black Swan.

And if you saw Black Swan, you know that we don't need anything more bizarre than what they offered up to begin with.


Here is the finished product, by the way.

A bit subtler than the wing, I guess.

Let's Pretend I have the Flu or something...

Instead of the fact that I am simply finding too many fun things to do in Graham, TX.

That's not a joke.

If you are still checking in to see what pithy remarks I might have today, bless you.  And I apologize for letting you down, day after day after day.

I like to console myself and my blogger's conscience by pretending that no one wants to read anything until I reach La-La Land (the big departure date is June 22, by the way), but that is just a lame excuse.

So, start expecting posts galore.

(Just what you wanted, I'm sure of it.)

Coming soon: Hair feathering: Graham, TX style.


I love y'all.  Seriously.  And I miss you like nobody's business.