Sometimes, I'm Just Asking for It...

I chalk it up to eternal optimism. Once I see something good in a person, it's hard to let that go, despite repeated incidences of asshole-ism.

Today was Mr. DD's birthday. I remember from last year, because well, I inadvertently ended up including him in as one of the birthday guests of honors in one of our mutual friends' birthday party. I doubted anyone would know it was his birthday today, but I thought that if it were me, I'd be a teensy bit sad if no one acknowledged my birthday, even if I hadn't told anybody.

I still find it easier to be nice to him than to be mean. Since a couple of coworkers and I have had a running joke of me tying girly ribbons around all their ugly figurines from comic books and videogames, I decided to tie a gigantic ribbon around Mr. DD's monitor and a taped a monkey sticker, saying happy birthday on his second monitor.

Would you like to guess how he reacted? Nada. No reaction. No acknowledgment. In fact, he didn't say one word or even glance my way today. Pretty big feat considering we're working together. This is where Wavy or UBBF or actually anyone in the whole wide world can say "told you so." Not that I expected anything, but "wow," I thought, "this guy must really hate me, no not hate, but not care for me one tiny bit, that he can just be like 'whatever.' OR he was seriously raised in a barn because the guy has no manners."

It boggles my mind. At the same time, it's good because it'll toughen me up and help me along in seeing just what an inconsiderate clod this guy has turned out to be. It saddens me that I'm disappointed in him not only as a friend I once admired, but as a human being.
"Waste of perfectly good ribbon," UBBF remarked. But she also brought a up a good point. You can't let the mean, ungenerous, inconsiderate people bring you down to their level or change your personality. You can keep hoping that the "do unto others as you would have them do unto you," would one day rub off on some, but you can't expect it.

Thwarted

Last night, Sly and I tried to participate in the LA Film Festival and watch a screening of Buffy the Vampire Slayer's "musical" episode from season 6. Apparently, it's become this new cult phenomenon much like Rocky Horror Picture Show, complete with props and singalongs. We realized this too late, however, and drove by the long line for people who actually had tickets and then passed by the other long line for standby people who didn't have tickets. Who knew there were so many geeky fans like us out there?

We decided to not waste our time in line and headed for the newly reopened Barnes and Nobles bookstore. As we walked up to the door, the security locked it up right on the dot at 10pm, only letting people out. We pressed our noses to the window to see if anything had changed at the bookstore and whether there had been any hullabaloo or fanfare on reopening day. None at all. Just your usual books.

We walked across the street to get some ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery. The employee inside locked up as we walked up to the door, shaking his head at the girl begging to be let back in because she actually left her cell phone in there. Sheesh, these people really do just close up as fast as they physically can, regardless of business.

We gave up and headed to the supermarket instead, picking up a pint of Ben and Jerry's and heading back to my place for one of the many movies still on my Tivo. I decided that Sly HAD to watch She's the Man with me again because we needed a good laugh from the night of bad luck. I think the ice cream and silly movie at my apartment ended up being the cheaper, more fun alternative!

Rockin Out With the Old Folks

Back in March, I forked out an obscene amount of money for the first and only show for the Police reunion tour in LA, at Dodgers stadium. It was so expensive, it physically hurt but I thought "hey, once in a lifetime opportunity!"

Everyone told me to sell the tickets on Ebay, use the profit to finance my trip to Africa. I waffled and weeks later, they added two more arena dates in LA. By the time I decided I could live without seeing the Police play live and tried selling the tickets for face value, it was too late. People were selling below cost! Luckily, my good ole college roommate, the singer, agreed to go, making it so appropriate since I had also seen Sting in concert twice with her years ago.

The concert was scheduled to start on Saturday at 6:30. We figured we could miss part of the first opening band and just watch Foo Fighters and Police. I left home at 5:30 to meet up with her and leave one of our cars. At 6:30, I managed to crawl through about 17 miles of traffic to meet her in Los Feliz. Leaving a little before 7, we inched forward to the stadium, a mere 5 miles away, at 2 miles an hour.

By the time we were at the base of the hill, I had to go to the bathroom so badly, I was near tears. Guys were leaping out of their respective cars and running up the hill to pee in the bushes or behind trees as traffic came to a near standstill trying to get into the parking lot. I briefly contemplated running up the hill too but realized it could only end with me falling on my ass and rolling down the hill with my pants down. Not something I wanted to chance.

When I couldn't stand it any longer, I handed singer her ticket, jumped out of the car and ran up the hill all the way to the stadium, begging security to let me in for the bathroom. Of course there was a line. And it was close to 8:30 already. I squinted down at the stage and realized that Foo Fighters was nearly done with their set. ARGH!

By the time, singer and I met up at our awesome seats on the field, Foo Fighters wrapped up their last song, and we were left standing next to a whole lot of old smelly people, frazzled and astounded at how painful it had been to get in. I took the opportunity to take a picture of how close we were to the stage with my cell (my tiny cellphone camera has no zoom), but it doesn't do it justice. Took this 5 seconds before the lights went out and the show started.


When the band finally came on, I was brought back to my high school and college days, when I listened to their greatest hits CD so much that I broke the first one and had to buy another. Not only was it refreshing to be one of the younger folks in the crowds, it was amazing to see how great these guys were. The Police now, could blow any of the popular younger bands I've seen out of the water.

Stewart Copeland hit the drums with so much vigor and smiles, I wanted to make him my new drumming idol. Right up there with Dave Grohl, Larry Mullen Jr, and Taylor Hawkins. Andy Summers had some minor technical difficulties with his guitar so he had a perpetual scowl on his face, but Sting's beautiful voice singing and playing songs I never thought I'd get to hear live in my lifetime eased away most of the pre-concert trauma.

Going Back to Basics

My six months of free HBO and Showtime ran out last month and after eyeing the nearly $100 dollar statement that showed up yesterday I called up Time Warner cable to downgrade. At first I was only planning to cancel the premium service, but then I noticed something. For ten bucks, I could have the broadcast basic service, which means I basically pay them to have clear reception of what I remember we had free as kids - channels one through thirteen.

Paying ten bucks for basic service isn't the issue. I was already doing that for years with Comcast. The issue is that when Time Warner bought out Comcast about six months ago, and forced digital cable on me, their brochures said they were getting rid of the broadcast basic service. When I called to complain, instead of telling me that THEY WERE LYING, they apologized and offered a bunch of discounts and free six month premium service. It was still twenty dollars more a month but I really really did not want to resort to bunny ears.

Now that this option was back, or perhaps had always been there and I had just been hoodwinked, I decided to go cold turkey and give it all back. Go ahead and take back that fancy digital receiver. So long On Demand! Bye Bye Cartoon Network!

"You know, you'll only get channels two through thirty," the rep cautiously warned me, as if I were renouncing all modern technology and joining the Amish.
"Yup," I answered. "That's what I had before Time Warner came along. I'll be fine!"

The Art of Not Telling the Truth

Lying. It kills friendships, destroys trust, and breaks hearts. It's one thing to tell a little white lie "no you don't look fat today!", but another thing to flat out lie when asked a serious direct question. I understand avoidance and not divulging everything when not prompted. I understand poker. I understand protecting a loved one. But I don't understand looking someone in the eye and giving a false answer when asked. Maybe because I'm just not wired that way. My brain might short-circuit or severe twitching could occur.

I have a friend who constantly and not so subtlety changes the subject when he doesn't feel like answering a question. At first, I thought it was a cultural or language thing, perhaps a Swedish thing? Some days it's annoying, some days charming in a kooky kinda way. I finally realized he does that because he's a bad liar like me. Changing the subject and just avoiding the question altogether is his only defense. Of course he needs to work on those conversation segues a bit more so that he's not glaringly drawing more attention to the truth. Or nontruth.

I ended a friendship once, abruptly and without remorse, because lies were told and my sympathy manipulated. That was over ten years ago and I'm not sure I've forgiven. Or more accurately, I don't know if I care enough to even ponder forgiveness, it's that inconsequential now. All I knew is that I no longer wanted this person in my life, effective immediately.

My brother lied to me about his breakup. And tried to manipulate my feelings. Obviously I can't cut him out of my life, I adore him. And I almost understand what's he trying to do. But I'm quietly disappointed that he flat out lied to me when I asked him a direct question. It almost would have been better if he just pretended not to hear me or changed the subject to something temporarily distracting and entirely ridiculous, like baby penguins.

Why I'd Be A Poor Candidate For Grad School

My dad always wanted me to get an MBA. Not that I had any aptitude in business. He just felt like an MBA degree equated financial and job security for me. My parents finally gave up the harassment after 3 straight years of nagging. I can be quite stubborn to say the least.

Luckily my brother accomplished that dream. And several of my friends. Graduations have been my thing lately. Two in one week. Some people crash weddings. I attend graduations. And promptly ignore all the long-winded speeches by daydreaming and doodling because I have the attention span of a six year old.

Here's what I did at Wavy's graduation last week. The kid on the right didn't think much of the keynote speaker's speech either. He plugged his fingers in his ears the whole time.Ran out of blank space on the program and resorted to sketching these kids in my little notebook that I carry around everywhere. It was nice to sketch again, even if prompted by the strangest time and place to do so.

Movies of Conflict

Rarely am I ever in the mood to watch war films or movies depicting the atrocities of humanity or civil unrest. I much prefer happy escapism. Why bother with movies depicting real life when I already think real life and growing up two highly overrated things one must endure? Anyway, occasionally I'll stumble upon these movies when they fall into my lap.

While I was in Chicago, my brother happened to have a DVD of The Last King of Scotland. I heard great things but nothing about it interested me. But hey, since he had it around, why not? From the first 15 minutes, I was intrigued. I can't quite explain why it was so mesmerizing. It could be the phenomenally charismatic portrayal of Idi Amin by Forrest Whitaker. Or maybe the charm of newcomer James MacAvoy. Mainly it could be the story itself, about the fictionalized friendship between the dictator and his personal physician, seen through the young idealistic physician's eyes. Whatever the reason, the movie was riveting despite the subject matter.

Another movie I happened to watch on cable this weekend, was Courage Under Fire. It's over ten years old, but I remember I was somewhat interested in it when it first came out, probably because it had Meg Ryan and Denzel Washington in it. Now that it happened to be on at the right time, I couldn't stop watching it through dinner, Father's Day or not, much to the amusement of my parents. It's a little slow, but the mystery that slowly unfolds is worth it. Great acting on everyone's part, including a very young and skinny Matt Damon and a tough-guy Lou Diamond Phillips of La Bamba Fame.

If I Only Had Wings...

I hate flying. I hate the act of traveling. It tires me out either from the glut of people or the lack of oxygen on the plane. Then there's the layovers and the delays, like the 7 hours my family and I spent at the Chicago Midway airport just last weekend because of bad weather on the east coast. Yet, I'm always restless to hop on the next flight for another trip. I like going to new places and being temporarily away from my normal routine.

Unfortunately, short of sprouting wings, there's no other quick way to get to all the places I want to go. I wish I could apparate into a new place, ala Harry Potter but it sounds difficult. Then there's floo powder for beginning wizards but you need a fireplace. Finally, I could hope for beaming technology like Star Trek. But I'm a little frightened of what could go wrong. What if I'm reassembled with my arm on top of my head or worse, inside out as in Galaxy Quest? Not pretty...

Until something quicker and better comes along, I do have two free flights to go anywhere I want in the continental US, courtesy of all the frequent flier miles I've accumulated. Hoorah! The choices are endless... another trip to San Francisco to see the pregnant best friend before she explodes? New York city again for a birthday indulgence? Seattle to visit Princess while she's up there on a project for the summer? Or maybe Austin to see my old boss, purely because I've never been to Texas and it would check off another state in my quest to see all 50 states one day. Or if I was feeling especially masochistic I could fly to Vermont for the Boy's wedding since I did receive that dreaded invitation. Ha! I'd rather chance beaming technology and be turned inside out.

Obscuring English Words

My brother finally told the parents about the break up, saving me from uncomfortable explanations of why I changed our accommodations in Chicago from a one bedroom suite for the three of us to a swanky hotel for them and an air mattress for me at my brother's apartment. Thank goodness because I'm a terrible liar. I manage to hide things well, but faced with a direct question from a person, short of running away, I usually just blurt out the truth so that my head won't explode.

Within a few hours of my brother's revelation, my parents called me last weekend and the conversation went something like this:
Dad: Hi! Are you coming home to visit this weekend? Did your brother and his girlfriend break up?
Me: Yes I'm coming over for lunch and uh... did you talk to him?
Dad: Yes, he told us they broke up.
Me: Well... then I guess they did!
Dad: Ok, hold on, Mom has some questions for you.
Mom: Hi honey, did you know? When did you find out? What happened?
Me: Hi mom, I have no idea. He hasn't returned my calls. You know about as much as I do.
Mom: Well, he explained to me what happened, but it was all in English and I don't understand him very well. It was "something something personal something something..."
Me: Hahaha
Mom: That's ok, we'll be able to ask him in person next weekend!

I'm sure my brother can't wait for the family inquisition tonight. I recounted the conversation to him and we had a good laugh. He told me "when I tell things to Mom, I try to obscure the English words to her."

Grass Greener, Etc, Etc... Redux

These rose-colored glasses, they're stuck on with crazy glue! There are days when I look at Mr. DD at work and I think "oh holy mother of God, what was I thinking?" And then there are those days when I get so angry at myself, so pissed at my stupid ole brain for still being the slightest bit attracted to him. The days when he speaks so patiently and intelligently to other newer artists, the way he hasn't changed his hair in months ever since I told him it looks good at that length, or when he smiles carefreely in some very rare occasions. I'm sure it all means nothing and rationally, I know it's just because I have no space from him.

Unfortunately for me, the space is about to get smaller. I have a huge project coming up in which I'll be working closely with Mr. DD from August till the end of the year. However, work has been slow and I know I've been coasting along pleasantly while my colleague is unfairly overwhelmed. Insert foot in mouth to boss and offer to help out. Voila. Beginning next week, I'll take over one of her projects in which I'll start working closely with Mr. DD next week, as soon as I come back from Chicago. Next week until the end of the year. Until 2008. It's going to be an interesting second half of the year.

Tongue-Tied

There is eye candy at work. A tall dark haired, blue-eyed, beautiful cheek-boned Irish looking man freelancing upstairs in our other department. I met him before last year but I don't think he remembers me. I hardly think we have anything to talk about nor would I ever dream of dating someone that uncomfortably good-looking. But he is quite some eye candy.

As I walked upstairs to the copy room, wondering if I'd see him that day, thinking that I was having a pretty good hair/outfit day, I ran smack into him coming out of the room. He smiled and I attempted to saying something that resembled hi. Instead, I think it came out like "Hielphhllphh..." Graceful, yet eloquent.

Milking The Premium Channels For All They're Worth

Have I mentioned how much I hate the Time Warner Cable Service and their monopolies on television? I used to pay ten dollars a month just to get basic service for my local 13 channels. As if that wasn't highway robbery enough, once Time Warner bought out Comcast and Adelphia, they forced everyone to upgrade to basic cable for forty-five dollars a month or suffer the fate of bunny ear antennas and fuzzy reception. What happened to the days of free and clear TV of yore?

Because I could not bear to deprive my Tivo of its glorious recording capabilities and brand spanking new TV of its hi-resolution potential, I sucked it up and continued to pay. I stay on hold for over an hour with customer service to log my complaints and get refunds when the service goes down. I send them emails complaining of their crappy services and policies. And the lovely thing is, they sometimes set it right by crediting my money back or in my case giving me six months free of premium channels.

I think that's how they get you. It's like drugs. Now that I have HBO, Showtime, and TMC, I don't know if I want to give it up. This whole On demand thing is brilliant. And the shows they're airing on cable these days far surpass many network shows and feature films at the theater.

My six months free is nearly up, so as I teeter on the fence of practicality and thriftiness versus indulgence and lunacy, I've been recording every movie I can get my hands on, every movie I ever remotely wanted to rent or watch if it happened to be free and landed squarely on my lap as I sat there bored with nothing else in the world to do.

Last night, I watched half of The Lake House, which I already saw a while back and made me weep yet again. I followed that up with She's The Man, a modern remake of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Now I am a SUCKER for any modern remake of classics. Clueless. Loved It. Ten Things I Hate About You. One of my favorites. She's All That. Pygmalion story never grows old. I actually laughed so hard and so loudly at She's The Man, that any person who happened to pass by my apartment at that time must have thought a crazy retarded person lived there. It was that funny and cute. I may need to watch that one again.

Finally, I watched Just My Luck, in which Lindsay Lohan actually reminds me that she's a cute adorable girl who can act and oozes charisma. The whole luck thing was very appropriate for my recent entry and I love the idea of karma and balance in the world.

There's ten more movies beckoning to me in the next week or so. The farewell to premium channels never felt so sweet.

My Book Club of One

One day, I'd like to be in a book club. It would force me to be disciplined enough to read consistently, discuss things other than celebrity gossip, friend gossip, or movies, and provide quality social time with other like-minded friends.

I recently finished a hilarious book one of my old college roommates (the cute little quiet one who also loves books) lent me last year. Jennifer Weiner's "Goodnight Nobody." One of our other roommates called her "Sweets" - though Sweets certainly possesses a wicked (sometimes dirty) sense of humor also found often in her choice of books.

This book is probably classified as chick lit since the main character still angsts over her first love, but it has a murder mystery thrown in it, along with a well crafted and thoughtful look at being a grown up. And by grown-up I mean, getting married, having kids, moving to suburbia, mourning the loss of a career and juggling a meaningful relationship with your single friends.

Jennifer Weiner is a funny and intelligent writer. Even though I can't relate to her other books about having kids, marriage crises, and the like, I will probably seek out some of her other books for a read.

My favorite part of the book? The protagonist's best friend tries to get the guy who broke her friend's heart deported. Ah, a story point and best friend clearly after my own heart.

When Sweets moves back to LA, we may have to start our own book club, though she'll probably read circles around me and pick up more meaningful intelligent scifi/fantasy novels. I used to read that stuff before my attention span got whittled down to the size of a goldfish's brain. Maybe we'll have to alternate the scifi/fantasy/grown up stuff with my graphic novels, children's books, and chick lit. It'll be one awesome book club.

Easy Listening Music

Last night, SC Homey scored some free center orchestra seats at the Walt Disney Hall for songwriter Burt Bacharach. AND since Acura was sponsoring the event, those whose drove Acuras could park free. Wheeeeee! Did I mention the good folks at Acura also provided free desserts from Patina afterwards? Not bad for a plain ole Tuesday night.

We were by far some of the youngest people in the crowd of gray hairs. Though I wasn't familiar with Mr. Bacharach, I love going to the Disney hall for its beautiful acoustics and architecture. I can't pass up a live concert at such a wonderful venue.

OK, I have to admit, I slept through two of the slower more unfamiliar songs but my catnaps left me quite refreshed. To my pleasant surprise, I also recognized about half the songs which threw me down memory lane.

"Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" is one of the first songs I can remember as a kid, when I used to carry around a yellow windup music box toy with rotating ducks and a plastic handle. My mom sang that song for me though after the phrase "raindrops keep falling on my head" we were out.

There was also "Say A Little Prayer," "What The World Needs Now Is Love," "That's What Friends Are For," "What's Up Pussy Cat?" and "Arthur's Theme," that song about being caught between the moon and New York City. (huh???) Of course, I don't remember hearing any of these songs when they first came out. In fact, I think I heard the Pussy Cat song with a cartoon, "What The World Needs Now Is Love" during Forrest Gump, and the "Say A Little Prayer Song" in the romantic comedy My Best Friend's Wedding. I'm guessing his music, though charming and slightly sappy, will continue to entertain future generations - and they will have their own memories of when they first heard those songs. I'm wondering if anything I'm listening to these days on KROQ will become classics like Mr. Bacharach's songs. Hmmmmm....

Anyway, my first thought was "wow, I can't wait to tell my parents about the concert and make them jealous!" But then it was followed immediately by "this would be an awesome birthday or Christmas or Father's Day/Mother's Day gift for them next year!"

Grass Greener, Etc, Etc...

Since the painful days of high school, UBBF and I were firmly convinced that we were bestowed fairy godmothers with a warped sense of humor. It's hard to complain about because in a way, we're both pretty fortunate. We were good students, had caring parents, silly siblings and every necessity a girl should possess. And strangely enough, I always had decent luck. Most of the time, if I wished for something, I got it, though usually in a bizarre way.

UBBF suffered a similar fate. For example, there was the time when she wished for a sensitive guy. The deluge of uber sensitive, not too ashamed to cry, can't get enough of pouring out their souls type guys that came forth for the next year is only something we can laugh about years later.

Apparently, we're still plagued by those persistent and irritating godmothers. The Boy, whom in my mind, I had already said goodbye to, won't leave me alone. He IM's me at work and bugs me for lunch even though I've made myself invisible to him on IM. "Egad! How does he know?!" I keep thinking. I even had Wavy test out this invisibility thing. Immature, I know, but people, I'm trying to achieve some closure here. I would have longed for this kind of attention from this boy ages ago if only he wasn't engaged and didn't tell me he doesn't like me "in that way."

On the other hand, I could drop dead and Mr. DD wouldn't notice. However, we're persistently thrown together, on projects, on lunches together with coworkers, at parties with mutual friends. When we oh so briefly dated, he had no time because he was swamped with work. Now we seem to have all the time in the world together. Yay.

My married friends covet my single lifestyle (or at least that's what they tell me). I, of course, would like to stop searching, or at least stop going through the motions of it anyway. And yet we both know grass greener, etc, etc...

Work Void

As I've mentioned before, ever since I got back from the trip, there's been nonstop change to adapt to. I've mentioned the best friend being 6 months pregnant, the brother dumping his long time girlfriend, the departure of The Boy... and then there's the mass exodus of several work friends. Ten people in one month to be exact.

I was shocked and then sad. But what I didn't expect was this consistent void and feeling of disconnect the past week. Not to mention the grumpiness and indifference. My work load itself has been a breeze of late. I can't complain. Only two projects, boss too busy to bug me, clients behaving, artists behaving, long lunches, early departures. Yet I walk in every morning and think "God, I hate everybody and I want to go home." It's best not to talk to me before 11am, before I've come to my senses.

Half our company is filled with new people. Many fresh out of school, eager, unfamiliar with all the stories and histories of those who left and those who have been left behind. New people who unfortunately have met me at the wrong time and the wrong place, when I'm no longer eager to befriend them and help them out with everything they could possibly need - finding an apartment, suggestions on where to eat, places to shop for furniture, must-sees in this city... I've done that already, multiple times like Groundhogs day.

I miss certain friends, looking forward to having lunch with them each day, coffee runs, and getting the random IM's or chat breaks that helped a gal get through the day. Instead, I go home to eat alone half the time, no one to vent to about work (people who would actually know what I'm going through and the people I deal with) and I'm not sure what to look forward to at work each day anymore. I know I'll eventually get out of this funk and life will go on as usual. But for now, I'm in mourning. And yes, I'm hating the changes.