Outed By Technology Part 2

Until the past year, I was not an avid phone text messager. It's convenient and kinda fun, but I simply cannot type so fast on a phone keypad like some of the young'uns out there. I don't think I even have a text message plan on my cell - it's probably charging me per text and I can't wait to see how that cost is coming out from all the recent exciting texting activity.

As I was replying to a certain boy's text the other night, while walking with my brother and trying not to run into a wall, other people, or my brother himself, he looked over and said "Who are you texting?"

"Um, no one." (Yeah, I'm not so slick.)

Later that night at the basketball game, I decided to divulge the fact that I was dating somebody to my brother. Strange and fascinatingly wonderful that my brother is becoming one of my closest friends as we get older.

Being my friend, he asked all the usual questions that I would ask him about his new girlfriend. Background, age, nationality, how you met, etc.
He also replied, "Yeah I figured. From all your texting." Doh. So much for subtlety.

Being my brother, however, he did have to end the conversation like this:
"I want to meet him," he said. "So I can intimidate him with my height."

Outed By Technology Part 1

Sometimes I can be a bit retarded when it comes to technology, such as simple things like locking my cell phone key pad.

"Hey there! I keep getting accidental text msgs from you! Who are you saying goodnight to?" Me@Co asks me.
"Really? I'm sorry!" says me, all the while mortified at what else I've accidentally sent out to the first name on my phone list.
"There was one with a photo of your dad...I figured it was just an accident," Me@Co says.
"Must lock the phone down..." I explain.
"Who are you dating???" inquires Me@Co
"Oh god, now I'm racking my brain to see if there's anything embarrassing I might have sent you."
"Nope, that's all I got." she assures me.
"Whew."

Celebrating the End of the Fifteen Day Virus

Man, getting older sucks. Getting older means being sick longer. No more "bouncing back," no more playing through it... only rest and bland foods seemed to cure it. Which makes being better all the more glorious!

On Tuesday, Sly and I again hit the Troubadour to see Sondre Lerche, a boyish floppy haired Norwegian singer songwriter. He had quite the following, including a significant group of his fellow countrymen cheering him on. Though Sly had already heard of him, I mainly went because he composed the score and sang all the songs in the movie Dan In Real Life, and it was just the type of music I liked.

A more pleasant surprise was the old fogey who opened for Sondre. Dan Wilson. I never heard of him either. Until he started telling a story about his band and how he hid an ode to his newborn baby in this one song so as to not be so blatant and cheesy. Then he started singing this song and I realized I had seen this band Semisonic in concert years ago.



On Wednesday, my brother scored tickets to a Clippers game through his work and we enjoyed the luxury of sitting in the suites. Not only do they have comfortable leather seats, they had a catered spread, a dessert cart that visits each suite, and a plasma TV in each suite so that you could watch the Lakers game on TV in between watching the Clippers game live. I don't know if I can ever go back to regular seats again.

I was starting to feel better, so I had a hot dog and some of my brother's chocolate cake. Then crossed my fingers. It was a week of rice porridge so I decided to go big. Luckily my body had called a momentary truce to the war it's been waging on me.

Thursday night was a fun work outing to Universal Studios, where I had the privilege of organizing 20 hapless artists, no sheep, for a screening and dinner with our clients. I honestly do not understand how so many grown men cannot get to a location on time, not get lost, or wander off aimlessly. I imagine this might be how it is to chaperone a field trip for a class of five year olds without extra parents to help out. Luckily no one got hurt, a good time was had by all, and I didn't need to smack anybody upside the head. I know I'm getting better when I have the energy to smack people upside the head.

A Boy

Because life is such that everything is happening at once or nothing at all, there is also a boy to throw into the mix of all the illnesses, the concerts, and overall life events. A boy I mentioned before, whom Wavy has given the new nickname of Captain Attentive instead of Captain 3X. A boy who somehow has already seen me at my worse, sick in my pajamas wrapped in a blanket, raspy voice and all, and brings me vitamins, candy, and a magazine. And still keeps calling. A boy who is happy to go anywhere I drag him to, whether that is a concert for musicians he's never heard of or shopping for a birthday gift for my brother.

It kinda freaks me out.

Earlier this month, I flip-flopped everyday on how much I liked this boy, whether it was even viable (with aforementioned three strikes) and would ask myself questions such as:
If I stopped this thing right now, would I be an a-hole? Yes.
If he were to suddenly go away, would I still be ok? Yes.

Yeah, I've got issues. Some that I didn't even realize I had until now. Trust issues. Check. Abandonment issues. Check.

I was just telling friends how much I was enjoying life lately, being single, not having any boy angst plague me for the past several months. Overall, I've been happy and I can't remember the last depressed spell I've had. I know it can't stay that way forever, but I was hoping I could at least enjoy it a teensy bit longer.

It's the age old cliched fear of being hurt and let down. It floods my brain. Why is this boy so nice to me? He barely knows me. He can't possibly keep this up. This endless stream of considerateness. It's the fear that this only lasts at the beginning before the "icky middle" comes along. The fear that it's all just talk, and this nice guy thing? It's just a front. Mr. DD and that boy who was the one but stomped on my heart sure did a number on me. Because the biggest fear? What if he stops liking me after I've really fallen hard?

It's still too early to tell where this will go, though I see the difficulty of extricating myself already. Could get messy, could be fun.

Dragging My Sorry Sick Ass To A Couple More Fun Things

My body is waging an all out war for me. The actual cold may be gone, but it left a parting gift of continuous coughing that has ravaged my voice. And perhaps some dizzy spells and a stomach virus just for kicks. So that I'm reduced to pretty much eating baby foods like rice porridge, soup, jello, applesauce, and if I'm lucky some bread every other day so that my stomach won't freak out and reject it right back. God I miss ice cream. And pies. And perhaps a big ole steak. At least my lack of ability to go work out will be balanced out by this necessary diet. Pooh.

Despite all that, I still had plans nearly every night this week, including two concerts to attend, concerts that I should have gotten out of to rest, but didn't really want to.

On Tuesday, I joined Sly and the other Banger Sister to see Orange Lights at the Viper Room. Yup, thee Viper Room of River Phoenix's death fame. I forgot how tiny it is. It was a chilly night, walking along the Sunset strip, but I wanted to see Orange Lights because they sound a lot like Coldplay, they could be the next big band, and it was at a small venue. The music didn't disappoint, and hey Sly got free vodka and a press pass to take pictures of the band.

Last night, I saw Swell Season, the band that consists of the two leads from one of my favorite movies of the year, Once. Though I had tickets for general admission floor at the Wiltern, all I wanted to do was sit and enjoy this mellow music. I found seats in the back near the bar but the sold out concert had so many people there, that I often only had a little window between someone's head, under another's person arm, or through the spaces between a couple's necks in order to see part of the band. I even whacked some guy on the arm with my purse when he walked over and stood right in front of my chair. He quickly moved away.

Glen Hasard, the Irish male lead loves to chatter and explain the back story for a good minute or two for each song. It makes him as endearing as Marketa is sweet and cute with her delicate voice. I would definitely watch them again if they decide to continue as a band once the fervor of the movie has died down.

With little sleep and a continually queasy stomach and light head, I went to see the play History Boys at the Ahmanson Theater this afternoon. Luckily Sly drove. The play takes place in the 80's and in between the stage acting, they bridge the segues with black and white pre-filmed sequences set to 80's music like Duran Duran and Depeche Mode. It's a little jarring and strange but overall the play was compelling. It involved things I know nothing about, such as prepping for university in England, all boy Catholic schools, and sad to say, history, one of my poorest academic subjects next to chemistry.

It was a draining week but fun nonetheless. And I wonder why I'm not getting any better.

Emerging From the Quarantine

After not leaving the house for over forty-eight hours, it was time to go outside, have some brunch, shop for my brother's birthday gift, and hit a concert. On Saturday, I joined Sly for another concert at the Troubadour to see Matt Nathanson. He was hilarious, a great performer, and even threw in a couple of fantastic covers. Like this one originally sung by James.

A pleasant surprise was the opening act - Ingrid Michaelson, a cute Lisa Loeb like singer songwriter famous for her Old Navy sweater song, The Way I Am. When she finished a duet with Matt, he patted her on the head. That's how cute she is.

On Sunday, my brother requested ribs for his birthday dinner so we hit Lucille's BBQ. Boy does our family love meat. My mouth waters just thinking about it. We ate at a crazy early hour so that I could continue the birthday festivities by taking my brother to our client's premiere party for the Simpsons.

These clients have been driving me crazy, but the Treehouse of Horror themed party was a brief respite and reward for this project. It took place in a restored cathedral complete with intact confessional booths, featured gambling, a make your own donut station, and waitresses wandering around dressed as Marge.
I wanted one of those blue curly haired wigs, but even the waitresses said they didn't get to keep them at the end of the night. Alas, being sick and all, I was wiped out before the party ended at eleven. After not winning the raffle, my brother and I bolted before the crowds hit the valet parking. But not before my brother swiped me a much coveted devil pitchfork centerpiece.

Sick Like Clockwork

Alright, all the going out is perhaps catching up with me. Or maybe it's the stress of work, though I don't feel consciously stressed. However, my mind does take awhile to catch up with my body when it comes to incurring stress. It doesn't seem like a coincidence though, that around this time last year, with the departure of the other producer, I caught a cold.

It started with a sore throat on Tuesday, some head congestion yesterday, and finally not keeping down food today. I actually had planned on taking the day off to rest, maybe try out Guitar Hero 3, which I just bought for the Wii. What I did not expect was to actually get even more sick today and legitimately be out of commission, too tired to even eat, play my new game or even go out to find my brother a birthday gift for this weekend. The doctor even told me she'd fax me a doctor's note to stay home from work tomorrow! I feel like I'm a little kid in school again.