I Still Love Donuts!

And I refuse to apologize for it.

Find me on Twitter if you want to know how I celebrated La Ria's birthday by wearing the big girl lipstick.

Happy birthday, Ria!!!

Overheard over Thai

I have a client who is friends with a former president. I shared this story with the girls while we were having dinner together the other night.

I also happened to be wearing a blue dress at the time. That I apparently spilled something on.

GPG: Does this look like a white spot to you? I can't tell in this light.

Krazy Mommy: Now she thinks she's Monica Lewinsky, all because she has a connection to Bill Clinton.

La Ria just laughed. KM is so funny.

Hey, That's My Bike II

Sometimes we don't solve problems. We talk over the ones I create for myself. Here's what happened when I tried to use a discount code for tickets to Wicked.

GPG: Oh dammit! Dude, I just spent over $200 on the tickets.

La Ria: Uh oh.

GPG: I so didn't mean to do that! I was trying to check my points balance and then all of a sudden it said congratulations. And you can't return them! I hate Ticketmaster.

La Ria: Can you sell them?

GPG: No, because the genius that I am, I opted for Will Call. So I'd have to show up on the night of and become a scalper. Oh Christ.

La Ria: That's too much hassle. We might as well just use them.

GPG: Oh my god I'm so retarded!

La Ria: Well, where are the seats?

GPG: Oh, that's actually some good news! We're right smack in the middle. Which isn't bad for $100...Still, I'm so pissed I hit the wrong button!

Then we got there tonight and found out they'd upgraded us to the second row. All in all, a pretty damn good screw up.

Just Another Random Wednesday

Having things to look forward to is what makes the world go 'round. It's like I was telling La Ria this morning over our morning cup of email banter: I'm all perked up now that I'm not just staring down the barrel of 5 days of nothing but work. First of all, I've already crossed two off and tonight I get to drink!

And so I did. Thank god for bourbon, that's all I've got to say.

But also, there is travel back to 1995 with Blues Traveler on Friday and EVEN BETTER: my baby brother will be here this weekend!!!

And I was able to watch part of the Celtics game over the bar.

So here I am, stuffed full of Kentucky's finest, wondering if my girl Lex will be her for my birthday in 3 weeks and really just babbling. I should try to put something cohesive together, like date tips for girls concerning an unexpected phone call from an ex...or how I ran into a magical Swede on the internet recently. Also unexpected.

But isn't my nicely lubricated babbling so much better for you? Something keeps bringing you back. I don't know what it is...boobies?

Are You White Too?

I have a confession to make: a few of my friends are white. Or, to be politically correct, they're Caucasian. Especially La Ria, whose people hail from the Caucus Mountains. So she's like ultra-white. I know, I should be utterly ashamed. I think I can safely assume most of my readers are white too. It's horrible!

But there's a hidden benefit to all of this. Being the only Hispanic in a group of white people automatically makes me the coolest person in the group, especially given that I'm the awesomest combination of Spanish-speaking people. When I have to share the ethnic token with someone else, then we look like your typical United Colors of Benetton ad, and that's just cliché. And the only thing worse than being a cliché is being white.

White people are fun to ridicule. It's totally acceptable to do so because, well, they've been oppressing everyone around them since the beginning of time, so now we get back at them the only way they understand: through clever jokes and innuendo. It's an intellectual challenge. And who doesn't love those?

Which brings me to my newest most favorite blog of all time: Stuff White People Like. It's pure genius. And actually really well written. I admit that I like a lot of the stuff they list too, like sushi, wine, (the idea of) marathons, and David Sedaris. It's quite easy to become confused about my own ethnic background. But my saving grace is that I hate Sarah Silverman, Manhattan, 80s night, and Apple Corp., so I clearly can't be white. And that means all is right in the world.

Overheard at the Sofitel

Last night, La Ria and I got together once again to enjoy more of our industry perks. Namely, partying at a swanky hotel.

We got to sit among the Hollywood wannabes discussing their movies. And smoking. Isn't it illegal to do that yet?

I hate smokers.

I spilled tequila on myself because my stupid swag bag fell over on it. So annoying. It was good tequila too. So we had to sit around and wait for me to dry off, lest the lingering stench of alcohol cloud our ride home. Can you imagine if we got pulled over?

But the true climatic event of the evening came when the old geezer next to me decided to comment on my choice of scotch.

Blonde bartendar: That's the last bit of the 18. We don't have any more bottles.

GPG: This is less than a shot. Wow.

BB: It's all yours.

Old Geezer: 18 year old scotch, huh?

GPG: My boyfriend says it makes me mean when I drink it. I'm not talking to him tonight, so I'll steal this opportunity to enjoy it.

OG: It makes you mean?

GPG: Yes. But I'm Puerto Rican, so that's allowed. He knew what he was getting into from the moment we met.

At this, the geezer made a face like he'd given up trying to understand women. He briefly pontificated on the difference between "mean" and "nasty," then went to put the moves on the budding starlet sitting on the other side of the bar.

It fascinates me to no end how old men will never hesitate to hit on young women. It's entertaining.

Almost as good as free cheese and wine. And scotch. She didn't end up charging me for my miniscule shot. Or the one I spilled.

It was a good night.

Overheard in Los Feliz

La Ria and I work in the same industry. So when one of the industry trades threw a party, off we went.

We had one drink and then left to Eat. On Sunset.

It was a very Hollywood night. Right down to our conversation, which somehow centered around Scientology:

La Ria: And that actress Erica Christensen was there. She's been in...

GPG: Yeah, I know who she is. I get her confused with Julia Stiles sometimes.

La Ria: That's random.

GPG: I know. But Julia has straight hair and Erica has curly hair, so I can usually tell them apart.

La Ria: Good thing.

GPG: Yeah. I like to keep my curlies straight.

And then we laughed at my unintentional pun. I'm funny on Tuesday nights.

July by the Numbers

Seems like Jay's advice works and you can force a title in the box. I like it "in the box."

Heh. I'm five.

Because my pseudo-vacation robbed me of any and all energy, the June recap is a little late. So much so that I barely remember the month...but here's the ol' college try:

1 new little French Canadian brought into the world
5 glass of scotch in a single sitting
21 years of aging in port wood
18 year old Macallan that has become the delicious standby
110 miles to a San Diego resort
2 days "resorting" with my favorite Krazy Mamacita
116 dollars for 2 bottles of wine
4 birthdays celebrated
108 years combined
2 brothers sizing up my date
9 children I think I'm related to, creating a ruckus in my parents' house
1 adorable baby boy who I'm definitely not related to, but seems to really like me anyway
10 magnificent ounces of steak enjoyed above the city
2 days spent waking up at the crack of fucking dawn
1 incredibly successful summit at the horrible convention center
3 of the worst meals I've ever been forced to eat (worse than prison food, I swear)
6 hours slinging authentic Louisiana snowballs in Long Beach
2 sunburnt shoulders
3 songs in a serenade
2 new objects of my affection
1 is a man (the other is scotch)
1 amazing duck breast
1 G-brat doubled over in hysterical laughter, quacking
93 minutes of the original 1932 Scarface
4 hours giggling with La Ria
2 incredibly disappointing restaurant experiences
2.5 combined hours spent waiting for food that never came
13 major work events to round out the month
403 attendents at the installation of the company's new president
50 at another party 2 days later
3 judges at the table
1 newly minted president sitting right next to me
30 minutes chatting with her about the future of the organization
1 dinner with the Krazies
2 mutual great first impressions
1 very happy GPG

Overheard on the Way to the Bar

La Ria has a degree in English. She really, really, REALLY likes words and language and etc. While we were on our way to a drinking establishment the other night, we passed a fast food restaurant. This ensued:

La Ria: Carl's Jr.

GPG: Yeah?

La Ria: I've never understood the name. Carl's? With an apostrophe S?

GPG: I've never actually noticed.

La Ria: It used to bug me a lot when I was younger.

GPG: God, you are SUCH a word nerd!

And then I bought her an Amaretto sour. Because she clearly needed it. My Word Nerd. She thinks too much.

Overheard at Disneyland

Today is the Princess' 29th birthday. She and I have been friends since we were seven years old. There are many, many, many memories spanning those 22 years. Like NKOTB. Heh.

To celebrate, we spent Saturday at Disneyland. What happens when The Girls get together? Zaniness. Add a dash of the happiest place on earth, and we're full on wacko (especially after the margaritas at Ariel's Grotto...thank god they didn't give us whipped cream!).

At the Princess' house before we left:

Princess: Here's a picture from us in 6th grade!
GPG: Oh Jesus Christ...look, there's the Princess with her real hair color.
La Ria: *smirks* Nice dresses.
GPG: It was 1990, ruffles were in!

***

In the car on the way in:

GPG: *to the Princess* How did we get back in touch?
P: Myspace...I found you on JTS' page and figured if he remembered me, you'd have to.
Krazy Mommy: *from the front seat* Wait, who are you again?

***

On the carousel:

GPG: Did you guys ever read this blog about naming your vaginas? I'm gonna start calling it Crotchles.
LR: The Crothles District!
GPG: Since KM has kids, she should call hers Bertha.
KM: No, that's my grandmother's name!!

(We nearly fell off our animals, we were laughing so hard at this.)

KM: Instead of the Vagina Monologues, we can call it the Vagina Dialogue.
LR: VD!
GPG: We have VD.

***

Continuing in the line to Pirates of the Caribbean:

KM: Since La Ria is so quiet and sweet, we should calls hers something sassy. Like your alter ego.
LR: Quiet and sweet?
P: Yeah, so it should be something evil!
KM: Like the Devil Inside.
P: Or Pillowpants!!
LR: Huh?
GPG: Didn't you see Clerks 2???
LR: I don't remember that.
GPG: Movie night on Friday: we're watching Borat and Clerks 2, dammit.
P: Got them both.
GPG: And I'm going to call it Meow-meow from now on.

***

On the tram back to the car:

GPG: Back to the gym this week, Princess?
P: Definitely.
KM: I don't know how you guys work out, I hate it.
P: The endorphins are really great.
GPG: Sometimes almost better than a Meow-meow workout!

We talk about sex and our privates a lot. Girls are just like guys in that respect, we're just prettier and have boobies.

And I'm sure there are a lot of other funny things we said and did, but after 12 hours at D-land, we hurted a lot. I sounded like a 30-year smoker all day Sunday from all the screaming on the rides all day. Hot.

But that's why I love my girls. Happy birthday, little one!! Hope the Rock Star makes it a good one tonight. ;)

Super Boobie Power

What started as a conversation about my vanity (because I just noticed wrinkles around my eyes today and am feeling fucking old!), led to a followup to yesterday's boobie talk.

Because if there's one thing we girls love, it's our tits:

Krazy Mommy: Just as long as you don't get old in the boobs. If Bush doesn't get out of Iraq soon we may need your missile deflecting boobs to protect us!

Princess: Well I hope that I get some compensation for that one. Geez I don’t want them blown off, then what the hell is going to protect us?

KM: I think you are well compensated. We give them plenty of attention, sometimes a little touchy feely and sometimes they even get dessert! Hehe

P: Yeah yeah, it’s all fine and good but that all ends the minute they get blown up!

KM: Thats ok. Dr. 90210 can make you more, maybe he'll throw in a free amplification shot.

La Ria: To be on the safe side, just like you would keep a spare tire in your trunk, we would need to make sure we have a spare boob set. Any volunteers?

KM: Mine are too deflated. Sorry, 3 kids sucked the life out of them.

GPG: Mine are not nearly as big as the Princess', but I'll offer mine up in case hers are injured in the line of duty.

KM: Does that mean we have to give them lots of attention too, so they will be ready to go if needed?

LR: GPG, you're a real patriot.

I totally am.

Birthday Present Quandry

Help me out here, kids.

My biggest problem right now is figuring out what the hell to get my friend La Ria for her birthday this Friday night. She's going to be 27. Which, for me, was a great fucking year. Turning 28 hasn't been that spectacular (had my heart broken...twice), but 27 was pretty damn good.

When my birthday comes around, I make it easy for everyone. Of course, no one has been able to procure me a Greek manservant with flowing black hair, broad shoulders, strong arms, with a penchant for walking around in nothing but white linen pants and catering to my every whim. But I'm holding out hope.

La Ria, on the other hand, is a bit tricky.

She actually stated that she can't think of a single thing she wants. And she certainly doesn't need anything. Except a clone and about 24 more hours in a day (the girl works too hard, but she loves her job).

Really, what do you give the girl who has everything and needs nothing?

Several of us are in this boat together. Ladies, I would say lets pool our resources and just take her to a strip club. Except she doesn't have a free night between now and the end of October, so that sucks. We could all go to a UCLA football game, but the only one that matters is already sold out and, again, that's not till December. Showing up empty-handed is really lame, though.

So, what to do???

First person with a decent idea gets my undying love. For about an hour. If I can fit it into my schedule.

***UPDATE 9.27.06 8:00 am***

I realize I didn't give you any background info on this girl to make intelligent suggestions. So here goes: has a degree in English; runs a local theater; loves punk and 80s metal (we've gone to so many punk shows, that I lost count somewhere around 832), dolphins, Last Comic Standing, Rockstar (both seasons), 24; has more arcane musical knowledge than anyone I know (except Will); and is very close to her extended family. Who all live in Glendale.

Okay, go!

***UPDATE 9.27.06 6:30 pm***

The Bouncing Souls are playing at the House of Blues on November 3rd, so I bought us tickets, printed them, and will put them in a card to give her on Friday. And we're taking her out for live comedy, which she loves probably more than the Souls themselves. So yay, we're done!

Thanks everyone. Y'all had good ideas. You are invited to my next birthday party.

Land o' Lists

I make lists. They help organize life. La Ria does it too, so I know I'm not alone in my idiosyncrasies.

I used to tease my boy Mr. Reed about being a Check List Checker. He is in charge of huge files with blue lists attached, and every so often, he marks something off. In the course of that, a home loan is approved or denied, but that's neither here nor there. And it's really funny how pissed off he gets when I call him a Check List Checker.

Anyway, back to me and how fabulous I am. Here are a few lists I compiled for your reading pleasure. Because your pleasure is almost as important to me as my own.

The Incomplete List of Random Things I've Said Out Loud Recently:
- Fuck, I need a passport, don't I?
- I want candy!!
- What, you're not going to call me fresh meat?
- I don't really like the Beatles.
- Ooh, check out that young lawyer boy. Mmm.
- They're not "stupid," they're just shallow.
- You don't like tequila? Sissy.
- Blue eyes are scary.
- Where are my keys? I need to pee!
- Wearing a suit makes me feel like a little kid playing dress up.
- Your super power could be that you piss Guiness, like you're your own personal keg!

The Incomplete List of Random Thoughts I've Had Recently:
- Did I just break my shoe?
- I hate the fucking traffic in Koreatown.
- She did NOT just say "supposably," right?
- Why does my seat feel sticky?
- Tim Allen is a fucking moron.
- Wonderful, now I have blue ink all over my face.
- Please don't be white trash.
- Did I have lunch today?
- Wait, I'm busy Thursday too?
- Oh, he did not post that, really? Really?
- Aw, I miss my Sailor.
- Poor people drive like shit.
- Can I eat a jalapeño popper while driving?
- When did my hair turn black?

Incomplete List of Random Lines from Recent Emails I Wrote:
- It's a party! Against cancer! Which is fun!
- Otherwise, you can go with your gay bf sans chaperone!
- I emailed you from work, to your work, so our work emails could bond.
- Woo, Borat!
- I underestimated you. You have proven yourself a worthy nemesis. The battle is on!
- I'm not sure Pollock ever dabbled in the "brains & gore" medium.

Read "Colors Insulting to Nature"

Do it.

Cintra Wilson, sometime Salon.com contributor, pop culturist, and all-around word genius, put together a novel case study on the disease that is the quest for celebrity, replete with "the B-movie template for becoming one of life's golden winners--see page 20."

Liza Normal (it's called subtlety), the unfortunate by-product of an oversexed, self-centered, fame-addicted mother and absentee womanizing father, is doomed to follow in her mother's footsteps. Set in the suburbs of 1980s San Francisco, we observe Liza in her innummerably vain attempts to fit in while obstinately setting herself apart, falling back on the belief that she will one day be famous, saved only by her best friend Lorna and her quest for the Golden Stag.

Her older brother Ned, on the other hand, swings towards the extreme other end of the spectrum, and effectively becomes a hermit. Who said the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?

Wilson, who obviously "gets it," illustrates how truly ridiculous this Neverland-disguised-as-Hollywood is:

Though everyone was unreasonably good-looking and well dressed, they seemed hollow and desperate. These were Lost Children of Easy Glamour--young people too rich and too pretty for Life to have made many demands on them. There was a clingy sense of tribalism; they seemed to travel in packs for safety and reassurance. Liza thought, in a moment of imperiousness, that none of them had substantial character; they all seemed to be adrift, flitting in the breeze, fickle and insecure, coddling themselves by burning money up their nose holes and talking frantically about themselves.

Does Liza get her just desserts? Read the book, dammit! I'll give you this much (to quote La Ria of 2004) it's "so thing." I mean, right? Actually, you can't really know this unless you've observed it up close and personal. Just take my word for it. It is, indeed, "so thing."

To put it in the proper terms, think Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted. Or Skookum's daughter.

Up next, I'll get wade through Wilson's collection of essays on the "grotesque, crippling disease" known as Celebrity. But first, I'm working on Mike Albo's Hornito. C'est tres funny.

And that is Book One off The Summer Reading List. Word.