Exoterica Two Years Later

Looks like I missed my own blog-o-versary. Oops. Which is not spelled
o-p-p-s.

Sooo...what did we do around here? I'm not particularly thrilled about where this blog has gone. I've become a little to self-indulgent lately and less aware of the outside world. Maybe because there's a pointlessly slanderous presidential race taking place and that sucks the fun out of all conversations.

But it's not too late to turn the bus around! Lets reminisce on the highlights:

- Befriending a Spanker: he's now my go-to legal expert.
- Worst Blind Date Ever: but I still wear red lipstick.
- I'm a Boy: except for the boobs.
- Q&A w/GPG: interviews are fun.
- Happy Birthday to Me: because I have nice boobs.
- Faux Celebrity-dom: I'm not her, get over it.
- Discovery of a New Vice: it's so damn good for you
- And The Family Grows: he's so fucking adorable

Then nothing good until some Queer Dude acted the fool at the nail salon.

Maybe this year will be better? You tell me: what should I do now? I must overcome this blog ennui!

Worst Places to Live

10 years ago, at the tender age of 18, I ran off to college on the east coast. Because all the "good" schools were back there. And also my perfect GPA, mix of extracurriculars, various internships, the fact that it was cousin's alma mater, and maybe even a dose of affirmative action combined to get me into Wharton. That's just not something you say no to.

So I settled in on the west side of Philadelphia. It was awful. It's grey. I know it's old and has a bunch of cool history (which, ironically, is the degree I ended up with), but the place is sad. Decrepit. Like having historical cache means it's allowed to be dirty. If Philly was a person, it would be the disabled homeless Vietnam vet that sits in his wheelchair on the corner in any given ghetto that we all want to pretend doesn't exist, who at one time was a war hero and is now just an embarrassment to society.

And it's overrun with pigeons, which are the dirtiest animals. Like rats with wings.

I'm not the only one that thinks so. Forbes.com recently ranked it as the 5th most miserable city in the United States. From the article:

How miserable is Philly? The residents of the City of Brotherly Love once booed Santa Claus and pelted him with snowballs at an Eagles game. Maybe it's the long commutes, violent crime and plethora of toxic waste sites that has people grumpy. Philadelphia scored in the top 20 in all three areas.

And the picture that accompanies that quote is of a crime scene. With at least 12 markers for what...bullet casings? And it's raining. Oh the fucking rain! God hates Philly, so he's always crying. That's why it's always fucking raining.

Coincidentally, Los Angeles ranked 6th worst. Because we have long commutes. Yeah. I've always been a proponent of living close to work. If you don't, you're just an idiot and have only yourself to blame. But at least we don't have "violent crime and plethora of toxic waste sites" to KILL us. Jesus Christo! We also don't have a pro football team, but no one gives a shit because our top-ranked college sports and pro basketball teams keep us pretty entertained. Oh, and that entire industry of entertainment keeps us from going ape shit on a poor guy dressed like an old fat man at a damn football game. It was probably raining then too. Or worse yet, snowing.

Philly is a shit hole. And I have yet to meet anyone from there that wasn't an idiot . I don't say that to their faces, obviously. But I do feel sorry for them. And oddly superior. Actually, I feel that way about everyone I meet, but Philadelphians bring out a special type of pity.

Don't go there. It's almost as sad as Reno...which is where your dreams go to die. Philly, on the other hand, is where they go to be brutally murdered.

Buried Treasure

It's amazing what randomness you'll come across in the midst of packing. There are movies I didn't realize I even owned, forgotten portaits of a certain Krazy Mommy we took for her husband back when they were first dating, and just now, an interesting trip through the memories of an old fling.

It was August 19, 2004 and between the hours of 3 and 5 pm we engaged in an incredibly filthy email chain that spans 5 pages.

I'm getting a little hot just reading back through it. He was dirty in the best of ways and I adored him. With blond hair and blue eyes, he was the exact opposite of my usual prey, but the moment I set eyes on him it was all over for me. He spoke Swedish, French and English. Man, I loved that accent. The one he refused to admit he had.

That was a fun summer.

He's back in Sweden now. I'd practically forgotten all about him. Until now. As I was rifling through old papers, ready to throw them all away.

I think I'll hang on to this one for a little longer, though. Never know when you'll need a good read.

Exoterica One Year Later

It seems unreal, but I've actually been at this little online experiment for a full year as of today. I don't think I've ever committed to something that long. Wow, go me.

And what an interesting year it has been. I've met (and drank with) a gang of delightful people, some of whom live over there in the GPG Harem. They brought more people to the party, and now everyone knows that the Curly-Haired Girl loves tequila and her boobs, has a horrible memory, breaks easily, and celebrates the hell out of her birthday.

What more was there?

Here are the highlights:

- The Intro: welcome to me. I'm crazy. And cute. And everyone loves me.
- The Theory: it's the only thing you'll ever need to know about relationships
- 28 Vital Stats: the birthday edition of "welcome to me"
- I'm a Logical Creature: it's true
- I Fall Out of Bed: and sometimes I run till it hurts
- When I'm Unemployed: I drink and wear funny socks
- Foreign Boys: *swoon*
- Good Kisser Boys: also good for dancing in the rain
- International Spying: my new hobby
- Queen of Lists: it's good to be the queen. And a photographer. With boobs. And curly hair.
- Blue & Gold: school spirit rah rah rah!
- Platonica is Hard: like diamonds, and just as rare
- Running Sucks: like, for miles and miles and miles. And then more miles.
- Valentine's Day: yay, I'm not a cynic!!
- I Make Bad Choices, Sometimes: then lock them up in GPG Jail
- But Sometimes I Do Good: really good...and blog drunk

Want more? Read over the girls, a certain man, overheard..., and then pick your own favorites.

Also, thanks for reading. And commenting. You're the bestest!

Memoirs of 2006: Fall

The end is in sight. I swear.

October
While I went searching for a clone, my entire family descended on Malibu to watch my cousin (the same one who unintentionally barred me from getting that damn job) get married. Again.

Then I ran. A lot.

A certain man came in for a surprise visit and I ran off to San Francisco (with Pete Carroll of all people) to shoot and cavort. With the ultra-spectacular Jack. Who has promised that next time we can drink without a time limit. The Raiders won their game that day, by beating Carroll's darling, Matt Leinert's team. A good Sunday all around!

The Princess and I celebrated our first reanniversary (we fell out of touch in high school, but it's all better now) by going to Halloween Haunt. We held hands so that the monsters wouldn't eat us.

Then there were the Halloween festivites during which I spent as a big, dumb blonde.

November
La Ria and I finally saw each other again, after an extended life-related hiatus. Then I took her to see the Bouncing Souls and all was right with the world.

I then embarrassed my work by showing it to a bunch of morons from New York. I've apologized to it and decided to just show it to you guys every single Friday instead.

I then forced all my friends to wear hats during poker. Because I can. And they did, even if one was a tinfoil beanie. My friends love me. And they damn well better after I sat through 90 minutes of watching some of them simulate sex. Gay and incestual sex, to be exact. I'm nothing if not supportive of the people I love.

My sports bras, however, are not. Assholes.

December
102 hours on the job in 11 days. I was fucking tired all month long, but still made time for UCLA, another half, and my boys. For my troubles I received another traffic ticket and smashed up my roommate's car. I swear to god, I'm fucking cursed. Fuck fuck fuck.

Then the Cat-roo-key turned 30 and we gorged on sushi. And soju tonics. If you've never had one, I highly recommend them. Zip on 3rd and Traction is the place. Hit it.

The final blogger meet-up of the year finally came to fruition. Yay! I love me some Roonie. She's fun. And funny.

Then a raise, Xmas, and NYE at a pajama party.

THE END.

Memoirs of 2006: Summer

Oh, what a summer.

July
I had gotten wind that my job might be in jeopardy the month before, but choose to ignore reality. People were being laid off left and right, but I was riding high on some great career accomplishments.

I spent 5 glorious days in Texas, networking and abusing my corporate account. Because I could. It was a good thing I did meet people, because a week after I got back to LA, I lost the job. Oh well. I spent a weekend partying with Exile and the rest of the time generally abusing my severance.

And trying not to fall out of bed.

August
This month was a blur of interviews and time spent drinking. Birthdays passed without the usual Vegas fanfare, but I met yet another blogger who was brilliance squared. It always nice to find out that the people behind the words are cool in person, too.

There was the 10 year reunion and that was a fabulous party. Being sans job was actually great because I did whatever the fuck I wanted whenever the fuck I wanted. Till the severance ran out because I'm not good with money sometimes. Like when I'm unemployed. And am rejected for a job I'd kick ass at just because my cousin is a moneymaker there. Fucking financial firms with their Sarbanes-Oxley restrictions.

Then Lex left us for the KY and life hasn't been the same since. Miss you, doll.

September
Interviews, job offers, a guy that said my blog made him want to make out with me. I tried raising money for cancer, but just ended up drinking a lot of Rolling Rock instead. And making out with said guy. Though not at the same time.

We drank whisky instead.

La Ria's birthday at the Laugh Factory gave us a glimpse of what Michael Richards would do to himself shortly thereafter.

For the record, he's just not funny. Like badly NOT funny.

Memoirs of 2006: Spring

Continuing on...

April
I worked my ass off making up for all the work I missed in March. There were huge sales conferences at work, and photography in the free time. Two pictures I took ended up in a beverage magazine, which was awesomeness squared. Plus infinity. To the five-teenth power.

The Cat Burglar and I started drinking together, mostly in a mutual attempt to mend our respective and freshly broken hearts. It worked for some time.

I also chopped off all my hair and then got the crazy bug up my butt to run a marathon. It's been 8 months since the hair surgery and it's only grown 3 inches. Regret is a strong word, but probably the most relevant.

May
The year never really starts until my birthday, and I was more than happy to forget the 4 previous months. Work was kicking my ass with more sales conferences, but I also got to throw a mega-circus of a party for the founder of the big toy company AND meet the original Barbie. It was a really good few weeks, professionally speaking.

After my own birthday party and making out with various peoples, I acquired myself a stalker. That wasn't fun. At all. But then a certain man came to town and made it all better. Aw, that boy...

May rocked. Lets just call it the highlight of the year. Even if some asshole almost ended it all. I win!

June
Also a good month, it was characterized by much running and the easiest tradeshow to date, even though it was still exhausting. In fact, we were so hands off on the execution of it, I even found time to shoot the 44 women during it. Good times.

This probably also marked the downward slope where the Cat Burglar was concerned, but that wouldn't become apparent until much later down the line.

For my baby brother's birthday, he smashed up a Batman piñata and then a gaggle of rowdy strangers sang him happy birthday at a nearby restaurant.

Life was good'ums. Squared.

Until I lost the ability to walk.

Memoirs of 2006: Winter

Because my favorite ex-boyfriend of all time asked so nicely, and because I have a pathological need to keep track of everything that happens in my life, I decided to recap the past year. You don't have to read. In fact, you never have to read. But you do. I don't know why...

So here goes:

January
I woke up on New Year’s Day to mimosas and a text message from the Sugar Bitch, C-dub, that she was engaged. Happiness! And the USC lost to Texas! More happiness!! I celebrated by going to see Dane Cook be not-funny at The Improv. La Ria loves him, but I think he’s ridiculous. But there’s really good spinach dip at The Improv, so we kept going back. And learned that Sunny D tastes like clown asshole. No lie. Then we watched people get kicked out of the club for having sex in the bathroom. Which I’ve never done.

That makes me sad.

There was also that super secret Louis XIV show we got into. Being in the know was all kinds of cool. And was one of the things the Evil Engineer told me he liked most about me. Gee, thanks. You like that I have a social life? Ass.

Then there was the night we subjected ourselves to Trapped in the Closet, Chapters 1-12. That’s 40 minutes of our lives we’ll never get back. Baretta does NOT rhyme with dresser!! That was followed by a card game with the Poker Nazis, who no longer play in our semi-irregular game. I learned the hard way that just because everyone loves me does not mean they’ll love each other. Especially when there are egos involved. Annoying.

Finally, the Krazy Mommy turned 28 and all was right with the world. We celebrated by gorging on fried food. Yum.

February
Before I ran off for 10 days of New York Toy Fairing, we celebrated the Krazy Daddy’s 30th birthday. There were surprises, a condom-filled piñata and more poker! The rest of the weekend was spent soaking up all the love I wouldn’t get while back east.

While I was in NYC, two people I cared for died, which sucked really badly. And the city had the worst blizzard in recent history (26.9 inches in one night). The night before which, I stumbled drunkenly through Times Square and came so very close to hooking up with a fellow photographer...but I was a good girl. I threw up my Chilean seabass instead. I'm so sexy when I try.

Valentine's Day was spent in that damn city, watching people ice skate in Rockefeller Center. That didn't really measure up to the hot sex I could have been having back home, but I returned to my hotel room to a display of chocolate-covered strawberries and rose petals strewn about my the bed. L'sigh.

Almost immediately when I got back into town, it was the boy's turn to leave, so I went to a wedding with an ex-Marine. It rained on the outdoor reception, but we still danced the night away. With tequila. Which is so very dangerous when I’m with someone out of the little black book, but once again I was a good girl. He kept pushing the issue of our brief prior relationship, but I still behaved.

(Quick aside: a few months later, the same boy would take a punching joke too far and be cast into GPG Jail, where he still lives to this day. Don't piss a GPG off. It never works out well for you.)

2 weeks later the EE and I broke up over brunch. Then I went to one of the funerals. Suckage.

Somewhere in all this hurt, I introduced the Princess to her Rockstar, and it’s been blissful living for them ever since. When one relationship ends, another begins. Who says life isn't bittersweet?

Consolation prizes for the broken heart: getting a thank you in the liner notes of a cd, and turning up in the commercials for Last Comic Standing. Which you all saw because they ran for-fucking-ever. Yes, you may have my autograph.

March
I was sick, sick, and even sicker forever. But I managed to pull it together enough to brave the freezing rain and celebrate the Princess’ birthday. Two days in a row. Because that’s just how we roll in this clique. There was kissy-facing, band boys who stalked us, and a fuzzy purple penis. Which I bought her at the Hustler store.

I give the best gifts.

She and I were also stalked by the pretty gothboy lead singer of a band. He just seemed to turn up everywhere we went, so we finally decided to catch a show. They rocked, but he was the flakiest, most self-involved person I've met in a long time, so there were no repeat performances.

UCLA lost the NCAA basketball tournament and the boy and I lost at rekindling. Things you should never do: give any sort of second chances to the exes. They’ll only continue to disappoint from then on.

It was an icky month. And fucking cold and rainy. Thus ended the "winter" in LA season.

I started blogging sometime around this point. You can really read the rest of everything in the archives. So the rest of the year will be only quickly summarized.

Enjoy.