Another Fun Quirky Movie

Last week, I managed to walk out of work somewhat early to see a sneak preview of Dan In Real Life with Sly. There are some slight continuity problems, but overall, it was a really cute and funny movie. Everyone laughed out loud just enough, and we could all connect at an emotional level to the characters even if you couldn't empathize with the main characters.

I was never a huge fan of Steve Carell but after Little Miss Sunshine, catching some episodes of The Office, and now this movie, I'm impressed. He's like the next Tom Hanks, Jim Carrey, Greg Kinnear... All expressive with the puppy dog eyes, all comic restraint, and all manchild-like though slightly more man than child in these recent roles.

I love these ensemble cast movies where the chemistry between all the actors are vital to the movie. Just like one of my all time favorites, Playing By Heart (something I've made almost all of my friends watch). The next one I'm looking forward to is Feast of Love. It's about time the giant splashy summer blockbusters are done for the year and we can look forward to the quieter introspective movies they start throwing out from now till Christmas to make the Academy Awards season. That and the new TV season starting, I have more than enough escapist pleasure to get me to 2008.

Do We HAVE To Be Boring Ole Adults?

Brother: You know, a lot of people at our age stop buying birthday gifts for each other.
Me: Uh huh.
B: What do you have, like at least ten close friends you buy gifts for? That's over $300 a year at least.
Me: Um, actually more. And now everyone's got babies.
B: You guys should just agree to stop buying gifts for each other. Save that money and instead of getting something you don't want, everyone can buy something they really want for themselves.
Me: Well that's no fun. Are you saying we shouldn't get gifts for EACH OTHER?
B: No. Just for your friends. What do you want for your birthday anyway?

My brother seems to think we're too old to buy birthday gifts for our friends. Vaj doesn't want to celebrate birthdays anymore. And most people with kids know that realistically, you can't buy gifts for everybody or else you become bankrupt in a single Christmas season. Is this what being a grown-up means? Booooooooooo...

Me? I'm going to celebrate all of next month for my birthday. It's an excuse to see friends, eat well, love and be loved, and be pleasantly surprised. AND, I'm still going to buy gifts for people when I feel like it. Because buying things for other people actually makes me happy. Did I mention how much Christmas excites me? When EVERYBODY gets gifts at the same time? Eight-nine more days to go...

A Sad Whimper to the End of the Work Week

This week, work has soundly kicked me in the ass all up and down Monday through Friday. I still haven't had my review, but maybe it's for the best as god only knows what might come out of my mouth.

Highlights from the work week include:
- Artists on my projects blowing every possible deadline
- Mr. DD in full beeyotch mode, not only being extremely unappreciative but actually giving me attitude about work he's SUPPOSED to do. I'm nor sure if I've ever hated him more
- Making an artist cry (a girl, though it would have been interesting to have made a boy cry)
- Plenty of "what went wrong?" meetings - I'm starting to feel like a failure here...

Now, it's raining cats and dogs. Like thunderstorming. And as much as I love rain, I'm actually still quite frightened of lightning and thunder, a silly childhood fear I never kicked. And I realized I don't know who I could call or if I have anyone in particular to call who could comfort me at this hour. Silly I know, but still sad. I think I'll just try to go to bed early and end this week once and for all.

Suck It Up

Recently, the company decided to recycle all those giant computer monitors and replace them with the swanky new (and less space consuming) LCD monitors. Everyone was also encouraged to bring in their old unused monitors for recycling or donation. As we (ok not me, I just directed the boys to move them in the right place and carry my old one from the car) piled them all in a row out back, the blank screens stared back at us forlornly, some still attached with stickers, personal post-it notes, and other vestiges of former ownership.

One of them had a simple note that caught my eye. "Take the hit and keep moving forward." I had no idea who it belonged to but I wondered about the type of person who lived by this motto. A soldier? A person who pents everything up inside until he implodes one day? And how long do you keep taking the hits before you hit back or sit down and refuse to budge until they apologize? Perhaps I'm overthinking this, but obviously this monitor belonged to a boy.

The annual fall breakdown

It must be cyclical. I have been feeling so worn down and unable to sleep well the past two weeks, plagued by work dreams and a brain that won't shut off long after my head has hit the pillow and the covers are pulled up to my neck.

Maybe it's the weather change. I woke up on Monday and felt the chill in the air and in my head I screamed out in exuberance. "Fall is here!" Unfortunately, it means being chilled to the bone, achiness, swollen glands, and sitting on the precipice of illness.

Maybe it's the stress of the annual work review. Which has been postponed to possibly tomorrow and about a month late. Which I don't even feel up to par for battle as all projects are in full swing and kicking my ass everyday. Not to mention certain artists driving me nuts and not being very nice or appreciative. It hasn't happened in awhile, but today I wanted to cry like a girl for no reason at all as I drove home.

Some Things Come Full Circle

It was a fun and exhausting weekend, logging over 150 miles in my car. There were college friends in town and Ballet Dancer's birthday party unfortunately on opposite sides of southern California.

Vaj threw housewarming party part 2 in honor of some college friends in town. This time I didn't get eaten alive by mosquitoes in his backyard, and it was much more low key. The food however still rocked, courtesy of his mom.

Spending time with one of my old college roommates, my future book club partner, felt like going back to high school days - sitting in our PJ's at our makeshift slumber party in her parent's house. Except this time, one of us is in her 2nd trimester and falling asleep as soon as the lights are out before we can really start talking about the good stuff. Ah well... She used to fall asleep like that anyway.

After meeting Vaj and our friends from NY for a quick brunch in Huntington Beach, I hooked up the Ipod, and prepared for the trek up north to Valencia. An hour and a half later, I was up on a hill, dipping my feet in the pool of Ballet Dancer's boyfriend's house. A swanky seventies style L-shaped home, in which nearly every room has giant windows facing the pool AND there is already a telescope built in the backyard. How cool is that?

At her party, two funny things happened. As I walked in, Dancer's tea business partner turned around and said "we were just talking about you!" Of course, I wrinkled my nose and said "uh, why?" "Work relationships!" she exclaimed. Uh oh. Then I remembered that duh, both Dancer and her business partner met their significant others from work. Of course, the mouse-eared company is much larger and affords many more places to hide when things don't work out - thus my problem with the whole dating at work debacle.

"How would you feel about being set up? I know this really nice guy and he just broke up with his girlfriend...." Well first of all I was flattered because I've only met Dancer's business partner a few times and she thought highly of me enough to play cupid. Then I proceeded cautiously with some questions.

Turns out I know the guy. Met him years ago when I was still at the company. We were friends for about a month or so, and I found it odd that a month into our friendship, after a couple of lunches and emails, he then casually mentioned his girlfriend was in town taking care of him while he was out sick. When I mentioned this to one of my girl friends, she surprised me with flowers at work a week later, with a card that read "Until you stop meeting weirdos, flowers will have to come from me." Not only is it hard to top that kind of sweet gesture, it was also a good tip off that my gut feeling about things being weird was right. I left the company some time later and didn't keep in touch, though I would still see his name in some credits.

Anyway, he and said girlfriend must have broken up, because now cupid is pimping him out. I gave her my card and told her to tell him I said hi. I'm sure he'll remember me. We'll see what happens.

The second funny thing of the evening occurred after most of the guests had left. I had underestimated how tired I'd be and decided not to head out to Hollywood Bowl for the Pink Martini concert, instead planning to close out this birthday party. A couple of Dancer's boyfriend's friends showed up. The very ones who knew Mr. DD. The same hostess who disliked him. When I realized who they were, I caught Dancer and whispered "is that her?!" "Yes!" she mischievously smiled.

When the couple realized I worked in the same company as Mr. DD, they were also pleasantly surprised. And I wondered if the wife put two and two together to figure out who I was from what Dancer had mentioned to her. It was like a game of "I wonder if she knows that I know that she knows. Or vice versa." Fun indeed.

Like Death and Taxes...

It's that time of year again. My annual work review. I enjoy these about as much as I do raisins, prunes, pickles and getting my semi-annual dental cleaning. Postponed twice and nearly a month late, I think it just might happen as scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. I'm not quite as anxious as years past nor justifiably angry. The boss amuses me in a "man, he's such a tool" kinda way. And the artists? Most of them are big babies.

Within 2 minutes of sitting down at my desk this morning, I was harassed by artist after artist in person, via IM, and over emails about what THEY needed. EVERYTHING is a priority. What about what I need? Like my morning cup of tea and some breakfast? Or MY priorities? Like making sure I'm awake and well fed else I bite someone's head off as a casualty of war?

Alright, I kid but only because I've been in a petulant kind of mood all day. I do like most of these people. Even Mr. DD, who is the biggest baby of them all and the one I have to work with the most. (Demented fairy godmother I tell you.) But if any of these people say one bad thing about me in my review, heads will roll...

How to Scare my Coworkers

After a particularly frustrating day of uncooperative hapless coworkers, I started fantasizing about ways to make people listen to me. And after my boss's pre-review critique about my not-loud-enough voice during meetings, the ideas really took off. I don't believe in having to yell to make my point or exude authority. And I cannot win in a whoever-has-the-loudest-voice-takes-over-the-conversation contest. I'm all about speaking softly and carrying a big stick. Thanks to a wicked imagination and some equally creative friends, here are a few ideas we came up with to have more of the artists fear me.

- Carry my brother's samurai sword on my back at all times while walking through the office and checking in with the artists, asking them "Did you fill out your timesheet today? Then you may keep all your fingers."
- Have my old boss from the mouse-eared company come in and pretend to yell at him until he cries and begs for mercy (he's the kooky one who suggested it)
- When everyone is quietly working in that serene moment of the work day, let out a bloodcurdling scream and hurl a notebook through the air clear across the room, then carry on my day as if everything is normal
- Smack one of the guys upside the head without warning when they don't listen
- Go in the back room and practice my boxing or swordfighting skills, complete with yells, which will eerily echo back to the main room

In the meantime, I've decided to just rebel against the etiquette and manners from my upbringing that have constrained me, and just plain be more rude. As in not waiting my turn to speak and interrupting others when they talk, just like all the boys do here at my work. Otherwise, I wait forever for an opening to speak up and constantly get talked over by a louder person.

It felt good to reprimand my boss during a meeting and tell him "hey bossman, I can't talk over your loud jokes. Work with me here!" And pleasantly enough, he stayed quiet for the rest of the meeting. I felt giddy with power when some of the guys started interrupting me and going off on tangents and I said "Hey people! I'm talking here!" and they all turned to look at me in shock, apologized and allowed me to continue running the meeting. The surprise tactics seem to be working. And I enjoy keeping them all on their toes.

Once, years ago during the mouse-eared company days, I started banging my forehead on the desk in frustration. Not hard enough to dent my head or leave a mark, but apparently loud enough to draw the attention of my department. It was probably the only time I remotely had an outburst at that stressful job. They still talk about it to this day.

I Am An Apple K2

On feeling a little glum and left behind from all the weddings and babies coming up

Me: I'm starting to feel obsolete.
UBBF: You are not an Apple K2.
Me: Yes! That's exactly what I am! That's what I'm going to call myself from now on.
UBBF: You are ridiculous. But you are not an Apple K2.

Yeah, we're kinda geeky that way. But that's why I love the UBBF.

A Little Bit of Irreverence

Thanks to half priced tickets off Goldstar Events (I highly recommend this site to everybody!), I dragged my brother with me to see Avenue Q, a satirical look at life after college, struggling to make a living and finding yourself. All done with puppets. Sounds strange, but it works. AND it's hilarious. Though I was fond of Sesame Street as a kid, I wasn't obsessed enough with the show to be bothered by this spoof, including imitation Bert and Ernie puppets struggling with the issue of homosexuality. The first few songs just hook you in right away, with exceptionable titles such as "It Sucks To Be Me," "If You Were Gay," "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist, " and "The Internet Is For Porn."

After the musical, I dropped by Singer's "Summer Party and Come Meet My New Boyfriend" BBQ. I'm not kidding. It's in the evite. I had briefly met him a while back, before Singer and I had gone to the Police concert, but I wanted to see her anyway. Because of dinner plans with the family, I could only stay for a little while. That turned out ok because I knew nobody there. And the people who were there were all her devout church going friends and colleagues.

I'd like to think that I'm pretty open-minded and categorize myself as agnostic, but I have to admit I'm not comfortable with people who repeatedly invite me to visit their church nor with people who mention God every few sentences. (Singer wasn't like that and because the four of us college roommates were all so different in terms of religion, friends, and personality, we got along in our own little world and tried very hard not to impose our own views too harshly on each other.)

Example 1: Singer says to a friend "Wow, you look good. You've lost a lot of weight since I last saw you."
Friend: "By the grace of God."

Example 2: I ask a girl at the table if she went to the same university as Singer and me.
Girl proceeds to tell me that she was always jealous of Singer because she couldn't get into our school. Instead she went to another branch of our public university system and says she wasn't that crazy about it. Then ends the conversation with "Ah, but it was God's will."

Ok, how do you respond to these answers?! Do I say "AMEN sistah!" or "Can I hear a HALLELUJAH?" And I guess it would have been rude to inquire what kind of exercise or weight loss plan that was. As with most things, I decided to smile politely and refrain from talking.

Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo

That demented fairy godmother of mine is sure getting her jollies in. On the life changes front, in just one day, the wedding count and baby count each went up by one for next year. And no, those weren't linked together either.

On the boy front, another new person joined our company last month. And I kid you not, he has the same name as The Boy, resembles the one I dated AFTER the Boy in height, lanky build, shortly cropped hair and plethora of tattoos, and hails from the same town as my favorite loner - dubbed the "uber work boy" by Wavy. With the temporary absence of our pseudo HR guy/welcoming wagon, I was asked to show him around and get him set up on my project for his first week. My initial reaction when I met him? "You have got to be kidding me." Though Wavy's parting advice was "Stay away. Like ten foot pole." this one has turned out to be nice and harmless, though separated from his wife and trying to work that out. Yikes.

Because THAT still sounds too simple, there is also someone else. A very sweet, seemingly shy nice guy who asked me out to go hiking. But he's also a part of the influx of new guys at work. AND he's a good friend of The Boy - that's how he got here. On top of the rational and emotional reasons of why this is a bad idea, there is also the shallow one. He's short. Wavy has dubbed this fellow Captain Three Strikes.

Now any of these reasons by themselves I could probably overlook. But all three together? I dunno. It's been a tough one to balance as things swing back and forth in my head.

He makes me laugh by randomly IMing me throughout the week with funny things to say. And he promised to sing me Milli Vanilli songs one day.

Then he mentions how much he misses The Boy and how they used to chat everyday. Erf.

I declined hiking on account of the heat and having other plans over the holiday weekend and he says "ok, you let me know when you are free, whenever you want." When I mention that his project is getting really busy and he seems to have to work every weekend anyway, he replies "No I won't. Anything for whatchamacalit." Awwwww

Then it turns out he's moving in to live with another coworker that I've known since I started there. As if there weren't enough hurdles on privacy as it is. Ack.

He gives me just enough space. He doesn't sit near me and we're not on the same projects (yet) so I can go days without really noticing him. But at least once a week, he'll pop up on the radar with a whimsical comment like "whatchamacalit rocks!" No more. No less. Er ok. :)

If there is a game being played here, he's playing it well. But I'm wary. Wary of ignoring all those hard earned lessons of not dating people from work. Wary of inadvertently letting The Boy back into my life second-hand. Wary of turning another "nice guy" into a jerk. Because that seems to be my gift/curse.

I took Wavy and M. Night's advice to invite him out to a group thing, and decided to have him join our merry crew for the Griffith Observatory last week. But I'm no closer to any decisions. Obviously, I enjoy having someone treat me well and behaves so nicely toward me - I don't take that for granted. But the rational, wary side of me screams so much louder these days.

Mi Casa Es Su Casa

I love my eating out, traveling the world, buy what makes me happy (within reason) lifestyle too much to buy a home. My parents however have hounded me with home ownership as diligently as they've hounded me with business school. So far, I've succumbed to neither plea.

Today, I met my friend M. Night (we call him that because he is seriously M. Night Shymalan's doppelganger, much to his chagrin) for lunch at a cute little bistro type restaurant, Piknic, in Playa Vista. It's a new city that sprouted up in the Westside, touted as the first new community development in LA in over fifty years. There was definitely some careful planning and thought that went into this little village and I was kinda won over by the layout, the mix of residential and commercial space, and the sense of community (even if it was calculated more so than natural).

My dream home if I really had my way includes a porch with rocking chairs, a swimming pool, game room, sound proof room for my piano and a drum set, central AC, and walk in closets. Never mind all the other basics. BUT, all of a sudden, I thought "I would live here." It's brand new, close to the ocean, the temperature is divine, everything I need is within walking distance, freeways are still close enough, AND work is still only ten to fifteen minutes away. If I had to fork over something like four hundred thousand dollars for a one bedroom apartment, this would be the type of place I'd like. M. Night even mentioned that they had a pretty good program for first time buyers. Also, check out all this foolproof technological upgrades they include in every home. Drool...

The catch? There always is... Um, it's built on some crazy hotbed of methane gas AND ancient Indian burial grounds. I'm normally not THE most paranoid superstitious person there is, but that is asking for some seriously bad juju right there. I am NOT down with angry evil spirits, gas explosions, or pissed off environmentalists. Nor should consulting a shaman for the blessing of my home be on the required checklist of "Things a Homeowner Needs to do Before Buying the Place." Guess I'll be a renter for awhile longer.

View From the Griffith Observatory

I read somewhere long ago that one of the best views of the Hollywood sign is from the Observatory, so I always took care to point it out to the friends I take up there and catch a picture for myself. This one came out surprisingly sepia toned as the sun was setting, fittingly old world glamorous.

Life Changes (For Other Folks)

Is it terrible that although I'm extremely excited and happy for my best friend Turtle, I'm also a bit sad that she's now a mother? It must be the year of the golden pig or this age bracket we're in, but babies are dropping from the sky left and right, no less than eight from last month until next February for many good friends.

I honestly do find babies cute and often like friends' babies. I'll even go out of my way to make time for them (unless their babies are especially crabby). I love furry animals and sweet, well-behaved kids, but the best part of the day is going home after a day of playing with them, free to do whatever I want, sleep and eat whenever I want.

That mystical biological urge? It has never struck me. There is a coworker of mine, a tomboyish twenty-five year old married for about a year or so, and she tells me that about once or twice a month, this irrational urge in her body screams out "ARGH! I WANT A BABY!" Otherwise, the rest of the time, she feels fine and knows she's not ready yet. A couple of us (all non-children desiring folks) stared at her blankly, likely thinking "Huh. How odd. And how probably annoying that voice must be."

I'm not sad that Turtle is now "one of them" - our friendship remained the same despite her move up north and getting married. I'm sad more on a selfish, personal, childish level. Her husband may have become her number one priority when she got married, but now there is someone who actually requires her love and attention, patience and presence ALL THE TIME. There is no sharing. There is no compromise. It's not that she doesn't have enough love and care for all of us nor no longer wants to be there for me, it's that there is something so much more rightfully important now that will sap any remaining energy, brain cells, and empathy for all my single girl petty woes. I am trivialized in the face of a helpless blob/bundle of joy. I am jealous of a baby because I can no longer be the one that needs to be taken care of when I need a refuge or a shoulder to cry on. She can no longer be my go-to person because I don't want her to fail.

A nanny will take over the guest room I long ago claimed as mine when they first bought their house years ago. There was once that old list of "What Every Woman Should Know By the Time They're 30" saying that every woman should know where to go when her soul needs soothing. That place was up north at her home.

It wasn't until five days after she had delivered that I knew the baby was here. And that was only because I was borderline stalker-like and calling every couple of days near the end to check on her. When her husband (finally) picked up the phone and apologized for not letting me know sooner, he sounded strangely energetic from a brief adrenaline high, though neither of them were sleeping more than an hour at a time. She was too tired to come to the phone, too tired to do much of anything. I felt very sad that hearing about the whole ordeal made me not want kids even more. And then I felt even sadder when I realized I wouldn't hear from her for a long while, that even though her husband was just being kind and protective, it was very much a "Please. Don't call us. We'll call you."

I worry that on top of the "couple friends" that couples tend to make, she will now have a band of "new mother" friends to turn to for discussion of things I can't possibly understand or relate to. I worry that the stupid biological urge will hit me when it's way too late, like in my forties, when it'll be infinitely more expensive and difficult to conceive, and all my friends will be dealing with teenagers and soon to be empty nests while I wrestle with a newborn and make all new "old mother" friends so I have people to relate to. Or worse yet, I worry that the children-laden friends will secretly shake their heads at me if I'm still flitting about, traveling the world alone, wondering about another man/boy, and thinking "poor thing, she's all alone with no children to treasure in her old age." Most of all I worry that I will lose another dear friend ever so gradually to normal life changes, just like I've lost many others before her.

Rediscovered Love for My TV

Eureka!! I reprogrammed the TV and found all my free HD channels and then some. Take that stupid ole Time Warner and your stupid ass unhelpful customer service. Wish I thought to do this sooner. TV is now living back up to its full potential. Oh it's the joys of the little things... Two more weeks till the new fall TV season and being mindlessly entertained by non-reality shows.

Labor(less) Day Weekend

In a long stretch of no work holidays until Thanksgiving, I thoroughly made the most of the Labor day weekend by mixing equal parts quality time with friends and equal parts sitting around like a log.

On Saturday, a group of us headed over to the newly renovated Griffith Observatory to enjoy the view, learn about space, and in general, hang out with one another for Jigaho's birthday weekend. Getting to the actual observatory is still quite an ordeal - you have to reserve a shuttle time online, drive out to the LA Zoo and park, catch the shuttle which takes you the longest possible way around the park and up the hill to the far end of the Observatory parking lot, and schlep over to the front desk and make sure you get tickets for the planetarium show before they sell out. We ended up staying there for hours until closing time, eating dinner at their little cafe and exploring the all new downstairs area, where you can weigh yourself at every planet's station to see how much you'd weigh, say on Jupiter. (About 400 pounds. Pooh!)

Though the live narrator's voice was extremely soothing while dramatic, I promptly fell asleep through half of the planetarium show per usual, as soon as we leaned back in our chairs and the lights went out. Maybe I'm just a gigantic nerd, but I already knew most of the stuff we were covering from all those astronomy classes I took in college and the gazillion times I read National Geographic's Our Universe cover to cover as a child. Not only did I fear spiders, monsters and the dark as a kid, I genuinely worried about supernovas and the fact that the sun would one day grow large enough to swallow Mercury, Venus and Earth in its path. Never mind that this would occur millions of years after I'd long walk this earth.

After looking at Jupiter and it's moons through the telescope, we headed back down and finished off the night with yummy milkshakes at Fred 62 in Los Feliz. Anyway, I can't wait until the hype of the Observatory dies down again and I can drive up that hill and park right in front whenever I want. I used to do that all the time and take out of town guests up there to enjoy the view and experience a piece of movie history.

On Sunday and Monday I scooped up the cat enjoyed the luxurious AC at the parents' house for the rest of the weekend, making sure to lounge in the pool for a good hour both days. I must admit, I have been spoiled with access to a private pool for almost half my life and I do feel sorry for people who never had one. It's a lot of maintenance, but oh so decadently wonderful on a hot summer day. I managed to step out twice during the weekend. Once to pick up boba teas and club sandwich making ingredients at the market with my dad, and Sunday night for Peruvian food and a movie with Bizarro twin.

Bizarro Twin took me to a hole in the wall Peruvian restaurant in the Anaheim hood, ordered our food in impeccable Spanish and proceeded to discuss ethnic stereotypes, growing up multicultural and our own perceptions of various people we've encountered. Life is never dull having her around and I often laugh out loud much more than usual. We topped off the night by watch the anti-date movie 2 Days in Paris, a movie that throws you in the midst of an angsty relationship for two days. It's directed by Julie Delpy, from the Before Sunrise and Before Sunset duo, and boy does that woman like to talk and dissect every nuance of a relationship to death. Though there are lots of funny moments in the film, we both left the movie emotionally and mentally exhausted. "I don't want to watch all this craziness much less live though it!" exclaimed Bizarro Twin. Good for us, since neither of us are remotely close to being in relationships such as the one portrayed.

On Monday night, I capped off the weekend in the best possible way. Glued to the television for two and half hours, watching the Justin Timberlake concert live on HBO, before heading back to my sauna of an apartment. Now my life is complete and I'll never have to pay to see him live in concert.