HOBO CHIC

                                 
Turns out, on one hand, I'm sometimes fashionably on top of it and somehow, simultaneously, Im the epitome of the "Fashion Don't." You know, the girls at the back of the magazines with the black bar over their faces… yeah, sometimes -maybe more often than not- is me. I'm not the one with the sparkly Ugg boots and weird leggings though. My social blunders come by way of slapping together something in the dark. Not in the form of, hey world, look at me, I want you to know I can't dress! For example, I'm wearing my ripped shorts, cute black top with the lace back, a zip-up hoodie and sweater boots. I'm officially a "Malibu" girl according to my close girlfriends but I'm a fashion travesty to the rest of the world. California girls will wear Ugg boots with anything. I mean, anything. Dresses? Uggs. Shorts? Uggs. Mini skirts? Uggs. House robe? Uggs. Evening gown? Yup, Uggs. Well, you get the idea.

In Malibu, I got many compliments on my outfit. 'Oh, you look adorable." Thanks. "What a cute choice." Aw, thanks. "That's a cuddly ensemble." Thanks.

But, add anyone east of the California border and the compliments turn sour. "That's an interesting choice." Oh. thanks. "Was that a fashion suggestion in Vogue?" (Followed by a giggle.) Erm, uh, not sure. But thanks. Hey, Not every outfit can be a winner. Thanks fault-finding patron, so struggling when it comes to figuring out what to wear every day in the sunshine state is always challenging. Shrugs. I could honestly care less about fashion (lying), yet I still don't want to look like a hobo. Maybe I should start a company called "Hobo Chic." Where I can wear my Uggs with pretty much any damn thing I desire and when someone says, uh, what's the direction you were going with that outfit -I can respond with, hello, the direction of awesome. Haven't you heard about that new clothing line by Rita Slanina? Oh yeah, clothing designers always refer to themselves in third person. It's all the rage, Ugg boots with anything! It's Hobo Chic, man. The next big thing! Totally jumping into their psyche forcing those fashion appropriate demanders of style right into submission.

Listen, friends who live anywhere but Cali. Here's the deal. In the lovely southern region of bankrupt state with the Golden Gate, it's difficult to know if its going to be hot or cold here. It's cold in the morning until it gets hot. And, its hot until, suddenly, it's cold. Then it's hot again. Or wait, now it's cold. Dammit. I should most likely always bring a sweater, or tank top, maybe flip flops, but wear my boots. Or, darn it, I should have grabbed my parka. Then it's hot again and I'm sweating bullets. Now that I ponder a solution to this madness, I might consider tossing a bag in the trunk of my car with extra clothes for when the weather plays backgammon with my emotions, and my wardrobe choices. More often than not, if I'm not bundled up, I freeze to death. Because, it was hot but was suddenly bone-cilling cold and apparently the Antarctica wind chill factor has kicked up. So, today I guess, to avoid a fashion faux pas, I'm going to lug my suitcase of two or three articles of clothing, now fifteen different options to peruse and hope for a blizzard. Yeah, right. Judge me, fashion superstar. I don't care if you sneer. Because, I'm rollin hobo.

Text you a picture of my what?

Yes, please and thank you! Ok, I have mixed feelings about "sexting." By no means, if you are under eighteen and reading this should you do it, its HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE. Public service announcement out of the way. I would do it if I was in a relationship, I've done it, but then you're always hesitant because what if the jerk puts your peachy nana all over the internet? There goes my dream job in politics. Just kidding. But, hey, look at what having your fruit basket plastered all over the web did for Kim Kardashian. Seemed to work out well for her, didn't it? Although, I don't see politics in her future either. Ever.

But, what about the guy you have put into the fun category? Should you send him these naughty delectables? I'd say no, but then again, I've done that too. What other purpose would the guy you keep around for your amusement be otherwise anyway. The playtime-only guy would be the most open to sexting back and forth his junk. And believe me, in that case, I want to see that eggplant. Yep, I'd plaster that yum yum all over my wallpaper on my computer… for inspiration, of course.

Maybe there should be some unspoken ground rules here. Example.
"Hey boo, send me a pic."
Um, "Ok," I say. So, I take a picture of my ankle and send it off.
 He laughs and retorts, "no, girl, give me something to work with… a little dirtier than that."
"Um.. ok." So, I snap a shot of… well, something else. Sent.
He sends a "much better" reply and we're off and running in this sexy session of texts. I gotta say, I'm delighted and feeling pretty hot. And, he's not so bad either. Until he requests, "Send me a shot of your… while sticking a… and don't forget to smile" text.

HUH? Stick what? Where? Smile? Have you gone mad? We had such a nice naked game of badminton going and you had to go and volley that. Eh, lost me. Sexting should be a sort of, foreplay, for the real thing, I think. At some point, you can shove whatever the hell you want in the cookie jar when you see me. Well, maybe not "whatever the hell you want." Chances are, I'm not going to send you that capture on film; thats reminiscent of free porn on the net. And not that I know anything about that. Maybe. But, either way, I'm most likely going to send a photo of a banana and me staring at it like it will probably kill me and flip you off at the same time.

Sucky Friend Alerts

I want to create an app that would allow sucky friend victims the opportunity to let their peeps know when they're being terrible peers. Wouldn't it be amazing to send a push notification when your buddy is being a sucky friend?

Let's say you and your sidekick have plans to go out on the town. You have a set time to leave, you speak to them confirming but they she's running late. Five hours later, you figure out that this cow has stood you up. You open up the app and send, from a barrage of choice alerts, in this case it would be "you stood me up jerk!" And you can list everything you did and the time it took out of your day so they can see the impact it made for you to be a good chum to them!

If you and your friend go out but her desperate ass ditches you for a guy and you have no way home. Yes, this has happened to me. Just open up the app and select "Really bitch?" Hit send. And voila! She will now be annoyed until she rectifies the situation.

And there should be no end to these alerts, basically, endlessly annoying her until she makes it right. Oh yeah, this won't be like your alarm clock where you can just slide open the phone and it shuts off. Nope. This will be an interactive alert problem for her. She has to respond to the alert from the app choosing "I'm sorry", "oops my bad", or "hey! Im a sucky friend, let's make up!"

Ha! I think it should take a picture of said friendship violator while she reads your sent notification. I would love to get that in my banner update with her making some whack face that I can laugh at because she's been busted by the playmate police.

There should also be camaraderie awards alerted too. It can't be all bad. If you and your girlfriend are getting in the car and keep getting an odd whiff of doo-doo, randomly, you both entering and exiting the vehicle, creeping in the back of the car thinking maybe a stray cat shit on the floor or something. Yet, after much deliberation and investigating it turns out that she had the biggest clump of poo stuck to the bottom of her boot. She'll get an alert from the sucky friend app but instead of the "your lame" context, she'll be smiling at the gold stars and rainbows she's received for "My Best Pal Ever!"

Obviously, there could be a bunch of creative ways to say "You Suck". And maybe its just me, but I think this would be hysterical. And If anyone takes my million dollar idea without breaking off a piece to the creator -me- then "Boooo" on you! OH! and send yourself a Sucky Friend Alert because you're just an a**hole. 

Under Construction

I hate doing my website. If any of you have noticed, my website has been "under construction." Its not that designing my website is hard, per say, its just time consuming. Hence, my undeniable desire to procrastinate is strong. Case in point: I should be pecking away at it now instead of blogging this post; But, hey, I struggle. There are just some things that are mind-numbing and re-doing my website -which I tend to do more often than not- is one of them. Praying to the website Gods doesn't seem to get it done. Wishing in wells doesn't seem to help. Grabbing a leprechaun to get this dirty work done, and maybe that pot of gold they like to keep hidden, doesn't do the trick either. And the leprechaun never did lead me to the pot of gold. I really wanted that. Stingy leprechaun.

When you have a small team, you tend to discover many talents that you may -or may not- have. I've learned to build a website on less than a dime, some tricks about social media marketing/networking, design posts on twitter on less than fifteen characters. Actually, the twitter posts, I'm always going over on those. Annoying. I know, I know… there are apps to help shorten whatever you want to say into a convenient link; but after trying that, it turned out I just had an extra app laying around on my phone that collected a lot of pixie dust because the pixie fairy wouldn't do it for me… Stupid pixie fairy.

To make a long story short, I don't wanna do my website today… waaaaa! =( Although, if I don't my manager will get in my butt and that's probably a fate worse than death. Why is it, even as an adult, if we get our asses handed to us for not doing something -that we should be doing anyway- we digress to childhood shame? Maybe, if I hire a neanderthal to take the blows from my manager, I can procrastinate for one more day about this website task…

Damn it, now that I think about it, the neanderthal probably won't be smart enough of to even show up. I'm screwed.

#SuckNut

I'm at the grocery store and I'm trying to decide on what chips to grab. Cheesy? Crunchy? Kettle? Vinegar? Healthy? Screw it. I take my arm and just scoop them all up and as I'm feeling quite happy with my array of options, a man walks up and for some reason feels the need to give me nutritional facts about my bags of potato and corn machine cut munchies. I'm stunned at first and rather tongue tied as he's carrying on about transfats, and the lethargy effect. Oh Holy Hell. I need an escape route. Where is a group of oversized, genetically modified apes ready to pounce when you need them?

If I'm not mistaken, this fool isn't coming home with me, isn't my boyfriend, isn't my brother, and isn't my son or uncle. I'm rather confused at why the hell he cares so much about whats in MY basket of delicious goodies. "Uh, sir, you must have me mistaken for someone else… does your wife look like me? Is she in another isle and you have some form of dementia that causes you to randomly attack unsuspecting snack hoarding single mothers with your torturous banter?" Well, I'm still standing here wishing I'd say something to get this junk food hater far, far away from me and I'm speechless. I know. Me. Never.

I glance around his shoulder-he's carrying on with a quinoa liturgy- as if I've noticed the person I've come shopping with - There's not. I came alone. A woman catches my gaze and quickly puts her head down and scants away. Great. Thanks sister. My hand is in the air giving a stuttering wave as this organic tomato is now looking at me quizzically. I, slowly, attempt to creep away and he starts to follow me. Holy Gluten Batman! I have an idea! Maybe if I put all my sodium-filled choices back on the shelf he will finally give up on this lost sugar cookie. Oh, but I so envisioned myself deep into a food coma before dawn. This King Arthur of saturated fat is far, far from the aisle of "get lost" where he needs to be with his round table of dried fruit and legumes. It is time to put an end to your dietary fiber legacy.

Wait a minute. He's in MY isle. I had planned an evening of lustful endorsement full of artificial flavorings. This nut job is sucking the cheesy puff face stuffing challenge I was gearing up for and I can't take any more of this peanut-free headache. I know what this guy is, he's a suck nut! You and your intrusive Dr. Oz wannabe advisory label shanking!

There is only one way to end this. I hand him my card, thank him for his percent daily values run-down  and stare him dead in the eye. Reaching, hostilely for a bag of chocolate kisses and hold the bag near his face. I state that he would love my blog and should "hashtag suck nut" on Twitter. Toodles.

The Business of the Self-Starter Insanity

I've kind of done it, haven't I? I mean, I took the leap and took a huge risk. I uprooted and relocated to Hollyweird and with great effort am tirelessly working towards my goals. I'm falling on my face on a daily basis; But, the reality is, I'm still getting up everyday and haven't given up. What the hell is wrong with me? No really, there's gotta be some kind of malfunction in my brain to continually torture myself everyday! Auditions, acting classes/workshops, the never-ending pursuance to finish my album, the magazines and music videos that just don't want to pay us girls for our time -chewing us up and spitting us out. The douche bag dating system that IS Los Angeles - I've gotta be able to find someone who's had a decent upbringing eventually, right? And the blogging of what is literally mi vida loca! Seriously, what kind of nut job would keep doing this to themselves? Me.

Yup, me. I grew up with a dad that was constantly doing the same with and my mother who supported all his whimsical, entrepreneurial endeavors, that just never seemed to work out with happy endings. It was probably predestined for me to push myself to live my life similarly. Except, I believe my happy ending is in the fact that I rather enjoy this insanely, stressful journey.  My dad had a janitorial company -which he had us kids helping , a roller rink -we helped there too, a gymnastics gym - I had the title of successful gymnast on my shoulders and rarely, did my dad work for anyone else. He wasn't much of a people person though anyway. t can remember one time that he worked for a company as a sales representative. That didn't last long. As ambitious as he was, working for other people just never seemed to be his gig. At one point, he was raking in past the million dollar mark but I also remember him losing it all. My theory is you can't fault a man -or woman- for being a risk taker. I've had interesting jobs to keep me afloat but taking the biggest risk of all and falling on my face has actually made me stronger. I know I can get it all back! I may never be normal, but I can live with that. Normal can be pretty darn boring anyway.

Listen, Hollyhood, you haven't defeated me. I was built for this. Everything I have done has served and is serving a purpose. I haven't a damn clue what it is yet. But, none the less it's propelling me somewhere. Let's just hope somewhere is where I have been planning to land! Crash landing? The long and short of it is, that we can never predict what is going to happen. So, go for it. Who cares if people are going to judge you. They will. Or if they will talk shit about you. They will. Get off your ass and make something happen today. I've fallen on my face already today and I've only been awake for 12 minutes. No, seriously, I fell off the bed reaching for my coffee. Shrugs.

It's too freaking early for this optimism.

“Coffee... Without it, I might kill you”

I wake up in the morning, push the button of my Keurig Vue machine and wait for the smell of my Italian Roast to brew aromatically throughout the room. (Mind you, my Keurig is on my nightstand next to my bed, yes, I LOVE coffee. Mess with my morning coffee and I’ll most likely hurt you.) I finally drag my limp body to a sitting position and reach for my freshly poured cup and sip.... Nothing. I look in the cup to make sure I’m not still trying to drink imaginary coffee. Dammit. I forgot to put the pod in the machine last night before bed. How could I possibly have forgotten to do that? Oh yes, I remember, Jack came over last night and we had conversations about art and politics into the wee hours of the morning. Jack was helping me mend a broken heart due to some jerk breaking it. Jack is such a great friend. Always there to cheer me up when I need it. But, we made cups and cups of coffee last night and amidst the evening chatter, I must have forgotten to fill the pod dock before finally crashing into a deep slumber. 

The amazing thing about the Keurig Vue machine is that you can fill the water carafe once and it can produce multiple cups! The next thing you know, you’ve run out of pods before you’ve needed to fill up the carafe again! Damn you Jack. So, I plop back down under the covers after popping in a fresh pod and impatiently await my first cup of joe. As I grab the now freshly brewed cup of coffee, I go to take a sip... My manager is calling. Shit. I put down my mug and quickly answer the phone. As she’s going on and on about deadlines and meetings I need to get to and errands I need to run for him, I can’t help but stare at my poor little coffee cup with its beautiful steam coming off the top of the pretty coco colored liquid inside. As I’m rushing around, the phone between my ear and shoulder, I’m hopping on one leg slipping into my socks and as I zip up my boots, I toss the notepad (I’ll remember what my manager is saying later, right?) and reach for my coffee.... Nope.

Instead, I find myself trying to catch my fall as I trip into the nightstand and the phone bounces out of my reach and I hit the floor. Face first. Nice. Rolling over to my back, I see the phone has slid underneath my bed, (ugh), and reach for it with my fingers and as I bring it to my ear again, my manager is still talking about who knows what and finally says she wants me in the office by 10:00a.m. Ok, no problem, after I accomplish all million and one items on the to-do list, I’ll get right on it. Sigh. I hang up and my eyes shift to the ever-lasting cup of love that I need to get through this evil, evil morning. I scoot in towards my nightstand, legs crossed, arms extending to finally get that warm cup in between my hands. As I breathe in the smell of those refined coffee beans, I find myself giddy with excitement, the now lackluster vapor traveling through my sense as I inhale with glee. Someone knocks on the door. I stop mid-smell, the happiness quickly fades from my face. I abruptly put my coffee cup on the nightstand, more like slammed it, but who’s keeping track? And I huff and puff my way over to the door and ask who it is. No one replies, so I open the door angrily now and see a package. Oh! It’s my order of Keurig Vue pods! When I run out of pods, I can easily get online at www.keurig.com and order up a shipment to replace my waning home supply quickly and easily. I can choose from a variety of different coffee and tea flavors as well as for other drinks I may desire from the Keurig Vue machine! I can also login to my account where it remembers what I ordered! A light crosses my being as I skip along with my newest shipment of assorted coffee and tea yum yums to fit my fancy. I was out of the iced tea pods so this actually makes my day feel brighter.

Back to my coffee of the morning, I realize that my once hot brew is now a sad existing cold one. Sigh. Blah, I decide that this will not do. So, I set it aside - I’ll just add some ice and creamer to it later and toss it in the blender for a frozen treat to top off my afternoon - and I decide to pop in another pod into my machine. And within a couple minutes, I have a nice, fresh, HOT, mug of a Breakfast Blend at my lips! As, I go to sip this fine fragrant delectable, my phone rings once again. I exhale a deep breath, set down my coffee and pick up the line to see who it is. It really doesn’t matter actually, because at this point, there is only one remedy to ensuring my daily fix gets met. I stand up, open the window and throw the phone. Maybe it will fly, most likely it wont. Either way, nothing is getting in the way of my breathable savor this time. I hop back underneath the covers, snuggle into my fluffy pillows, cuddle myself into my chalice and begin to let my taste buds reveal the flavorful wonders that only my Keurig Vue machine can deliver. Sure, you can hang on tight to your old Keurig machine and thats great. But, why do that when you have the newest member, Keurig Vue, brewing appliance? It does so much more than just coffee, I don’t know how I survived without it. Seriously, I haven’t a clue.