home

LA was definitely a breath of fresh air.
(Well, okay, not “fresh air” but let’s just go with the analogy, no one ever said, “ahhh, what a refreshing breath of smog!” besides me.)

Here’s one thing I don’t get: the LA hate. It seems to me that so many people, Californians and otherwise, hold so much resentment towards that city. And I think some people are just jealous. I’m jealous, in a lot of ways. Especially when I know I was on track to make a career there and know so many amazing people who reside in the area. I think it is a very special, surreal place. There is no other metropolis like it. I dare one person to name another city that is similar. Seattle and Portland? Pretty similar. You get what I’m saying.

If I were a cheesy asshole, I would say “oh and it looks like I brought the sunshine with me!” because finally Seattle is sunny and warm. But I am not a cheesy asshole, therefore I will not say that. I will just say, I am very thankful about this, it made returning to regular life back in Washington a much easier transition (everyone knows how much I detest cold weather, right?). If I had landed and it was rainy and dismal like it has been all summer, I might have booked the first ticket back… turns out I just get to feel bummed I’m back from vacation and go run around Greenlake in 80 degree weather. I can suck it up in this scenario.

The funny thing is, I never really DO anything when I visit California. When I lived in OC/San Diego, I feel like I always went on adventures and went exploring and found creative ways to entertain myself. Now when I head down to visit, I just party and drink and bar-hop and eat burritos and shop. It’s kind of sad. I told myself on this trip that I would go to Runyon Canyon, eat at Canter’s, patronize the Getty, finally visit the Elliott Smith mural (as referenced in my last post)… oh and speaking of promises I didn’t live up to from my last entry, I didn’t even eat at Pinks! What is wrong with me?! Too busy imbibing tequila, I guess. As usual. I will say that I got to visit and compare/contrast the LA Cha Cha… sorry, Seattle, it totally owns us. Their photobooth is in color and only $2, plus they serve Sparks! No contest. On the other hand, we had to wait in a massive line to get in, something foreign to me as a Seattle partier.

And I did get to hit up the heaven that is Yogurtland not once, but twice.

Celeb sightings? So glad you asked. Only the most obvious: Cee-lo (at Mel’s) and Janelle Monae (at the Beverly Center – and she was eating Yogurtland too!).

In conclusion: There were good and bad things about going. There were good and bad things about coming back. There is not one city that I feel I 100% belong in. I will never honestly be able to say, “oh SO glad to be back in my real home, Seattle!” and I know if I left here and returned to California for good, I would never be able to say “Thank God I ditched stupid Seattle, now I’m where I belong for certain!” This is not an epiphany. Every trip to LA, even a random party trip, I just have to handle the weird “life choices” emotions and know that time will take me in many unknown directions. Apparently at this point, it is taking me in the direction of Sparks and bad late-night Mexican food, and that is good enough for now.

Thank you to California and especially a few of its most incredible residents for a memorable holiday and escape.

hotel california

It is July 1^st. It is also 55 degrees and rainy. Seattle is basically giving all of its residents a big “fuck you.” I, for one, am deeply offended.

That is why (or, a component of why) I’m ditching out. Three-day holiday weekend? You’ve got to be crazy if you think I’m spending it in this. There is only one solution to my summer blues: Los Angeles.

Hot dog heaven!

You heard it here first. I threw down a ridiculous chunk of change on a very last-minute round trip on Virgin America. I am going to visit friends, go to beach parties, window shop, eat Pink’s hot dogs, and hopefully this time I won’t spend hundreds of dollaz at Moods of Norway, but we can’t rule anything out at this point. Also, as per my last entry, I will probably spend a fair amount of time “retoxing.”

The irony of this post’s title is that KJ and I don’t even know where we’re sleeping down there. Details.

I have an issue where I feel guilty spending money, but I am trying to work on that. What am I hoarding all my paychecks for? The car I don’t drive, the wedding I’m not planning, the kids I don’t have, the house I don’t own? What? I have no expenses besides rent and my one credit card. I have no one financially dependent on me. I am not saving up for any big purchases in the near future. (Except I am dreaming of a big-screen HD TV, but still, in the scope of things, not that huge of an investment.) Also, it’s pretty patriotic to spend money, and what better time to support our country’s capitalist economy than during 4th of July?! USA!

Plus, these days, I seem to be raking in the money… in weird ways. Last night I was at a concert and some dude in line for drinks paid me $20 for my number. Hahahahahaha. You better believe I engaged in that transaction. (Then proceeded to ignore his subsequent calls/texts last night, because… no.)

Here is my Ultimate LA Playlist:
Miley Cyrus – Party in the USA (for KJ, if nothing else)
LL Cool J – Goin Back to Cali
2Pac – California Love
Phantom Planet – California (not amazing, but it makes me feel like I’m in The OC, sooo…)
LMFAO – Shots (this is really a playlist song for any time I am partying outside of Seattle.)
Beach Boys – California Girls
There are obviously a lot more great songs about LA/California, but they are kind of downers, and when I am on vacation, I want to ignore life and pretend that everything is one huge celebration… therefore I cannot in good faith include things like Elliott Smith – “LA” and RHCP – “Californication”… although to include stupid Miley Cyrus over Elliott Smith on any playlist just feels plain wrong. But I do plan on visiting his memorial when I’m down there this weekend! (And maybe his house? Too creepy? Also not part of the “life is just a party” mood I’m attempting to cultivate for my weekend, I guess.) 

Well, see you in California. Time to R-O-C-K in the USA.

detox, retox

As per my last entry, lately I have been feeling… gross. In every way. Why? Multiple reasons. Sometimes just working through life seems like this huge pressure that I am unprepared to deal with. 

When I am really overwhelmed by my existence, I like to revel in it. I’m like a pig in shit. (Is that the saying? Well, it fits.) Seriously. Normally I am a really tidy person. I have nearly impeccable hygiene. I like to plan, I don’t like surprises, I like to keep busy, I like to feel in control of my activities and actions… so when that goes out the window, it REALLY goes. We’re talking bad. I don’t buy groceries, I don’t do laundry, I don’t even bother to put clothes back in my closet or in the hamper… I either don’t eat at all or binge on random snacks in a drunken stupor. I don’t move or I obsessively workout all night long. I listen to bad music alone in my room while wondering where all my friends are, or if I even really have friends. I sleep at random times but not when it’s dark out. Symptoms of depression? Just apathy? Regression into the lifestyle of a teenage boy? All of the above, probably. I’ve been feeling like Lindsay Lohan, and not in a good way. (see pictorial evidence.)

Anyway, I was pretty lame this weekend. I mostly just slept way too much in the daytime, drank a lot of alcohol, and ate a lot of Taco Bell. I woke up with a dual hangover from both late Sunday morning. I was supposed to go downtown for the Seattle Pride parade. While I am clearly not gay, I do support the lifestyle as well as equal rights for everyone. Furthermore, and almost as importantly, I support any holiday in which I am encouraged to day-drink in public while watching people in funny outfits. My dreams for any afternoon activities were shattered, though, when I remembered the tequila shots at the karaoke bar, the stupid texts, the Chicken Crunchwrap Supreme… I wasn’t in a very festive mood, to say the least. Luckily, my friend Yumi pulled me out of my Mexican torpor with this text convo:

Yumi: We’re getting ready now and heading up there. Your plans?

Emily: …still at home. In my pajamas, listening to R&B.

Yumi: Emily!!! No R&B in PJs! Come hither and hang out! How was the Rickshaw?

Emily: Intense. I just re-realized I ate Taco Bell.

After she didn’t respond to my pathetic Taco Bell epiphany/excuse for being a lazyass, I decided I needed to get myself together. I was a mess and it had gone on long enough. It was time to put on a colorful dress, buy a Gatorade, go downtown, and participate in the celebration.

Revisiting the public and life outside my pit of a bedroom, I felt a lot better about life. If the gay community can be so festive in the face of such oppression, I can at least get out of bed at a reasonable time and keep my living space tidy, for christsake. I came home that night, and armed with determination. In true Emily fashion, about five minutes into my mission I got bored/unmotivated and was about to give up and watch Entourage, but when I stepped on a tortilla chip with my bare foot while making the journey to my bed, I knew I had to get my ass in gear. Not only was my abode an embarrassing disaster, so was my entire digestive tract and nutritional compass. I finished what I started and promised myself I would do even better the next day.

SO YESTERDAY, GUESS WHAT. Not only did I eat incredibly healthfully, I did not drink a drop of alcohol, I worked out a shitload, and even ran (literally!) to the grocery store to reload on healthy groceries. I was almost drawn into temptation by a gigantic display of the newly released “pretzel-filled” M&Ms (excuse me?!? This must be revisited after I lose 10 pounds in July), but the knowledge that I was trying to turn my life around propelled me to the produce section instead. Score. Then, last night, I fell asleep alone, naturally, which never used to feel like an accomplishment, but lately…
Then, granted, today I ended up doing happy hour, but it was to celebrate Shawna’s promotion, plus I only had two glasses of red wine, which is heart-healthy. I also walked for a very long distance to get to the bar, including multiple flights of stairs. That’s something.

Here’s the sad part. I was so proud of my Monday (and semi-Tuesday) of glory, but the truth is, that shining moment of health is over. Tomorrow I am going to a show with Matt and Mini, two of my favorite people in the world, and also two of the worst (and therefore, in a way, best!) influences when it comes to making decisions involving “having a good time”… Thursday a huge preemptive 4th of July BBQ blowout in my backyard… then I have a sick 3-day weekend which will have to be expounded upon in a later entry. So, enjoy that 48-hour period of health while it lasted, everyone. Let’s just take a moment though, and acknowledge that I knowingly made positive decisions. I at least don’t feel as Lohan-esque, more Ashley Olsen at this point. Yes!

gross

Signs you know your life has somehow derailed:

• Your friends forbid you from watching your worn DVD of Center Stage again.
• You cry in front of the checker at RadioShack.
• You actually mistake your digital camera for a cell phone and try to text someone on it. Sober. Actually.
• The cornerstones of your healthy diet are tap water, black coffee, Tums, and painkillers.
• You listen to the Cruel Intentions soundtrack on repeat.
• You contemplate wearing your father’s old thermal shirt as appropriate “business casual attire” (but luckily, back out at the last minute). But you still wear the same pair of pants four days in a row, because everything just seems like too much effort.

GROSS. I used to think that being tough and immune to messiness/emotions was my thing, but it looks like my persona is headed in a different direction. Now being a completely useless trainwreck is my new “thing”. (My other new “thing” is chewing a huge wad of gum while I work out, I think it helps concentration and rhythm… but that is a different theory for a different day.)

I am an official disaster zone. I slept in until 11:00 today. I never sleep in past like, 9:00 on the weekends. I was supposed to meet people to watch the World Cup hours ago, but nope, snoozing in my underwear is apparently all I could handle this morning. It’s now past 2:00 and I was supposed to be at a baby shower by 1:00. Once again, no, apparently couldn’t be bothered to go to that. Of course, it was supposed to be nice outside but it is grey and gloomy. This non-summer is really getting to me. I haven’t even changed out of my robe. My biggest accomplishment today: I just finally mustered up the strength to eat something. I made an egg and ate some Wheat Thins. Back in the day, I was so optimistic when I cooked for myself… what used to be an omelet with caramelized onions, mushrooms, goat cheese, egg whites, etc. is now…. one plain egg cooked in PAM spray. Sad.

Also, my living area is a disgrace. I’m a neat and organized person, and to enter my bedroom is shocking. We’re talking about half my wardrobe on the floor, the onion from my purse still sitting on my nightstand, DVDs from at least six different shows littered around various flat surfaces. Random paperwork everywhere. Empty pint glasses. Make-up. Right now, in my bed, is a box of checkbooks, a bunch of photographs, a paper plate, two remotes, and six pillows. (One of my friends, I forget who – maybe KJ? – has a theory that the more pillows a girl has in her bed, the crazier she is. I have gone from three pillows to six in the past few months. That means my crazy has doubled?!)

Well, in respect to the aforementioned chewing gum work out, I am going to attempt to run. The idea of moving at all is pretty horrible to me, but I am so embarrassed of my level of apathy and laziness right now. Then again, there is a slight chance I might just go back to bed.

summer blues

One of the most difficult things in life, for me, is returning from vacation. I can’t lie; relaxing and drinking in a warm climate is pretty much my favorite thing in the world, so after a weekend of doing just that, I am downright depressed returning to my so-called “real” life. Especially during summer, the most festive season.

I have just returned from the Oregon coast. I journeyed to Matt’s beach house in Manzanita with a handful of my friends, and as they can attest, it was a lovely time full of the beach, booze, BBQ, bonfires, ummm.. can’t think of any other alliteration… so also golf, shots shots shots sho-sho-shots!, hiking, pie, music, oysters, World Cup, horseshoes, Catan, questionable Dairy Queen, Camaro, semi-sunshine… you get the idea. I’m still shocked by the amount of activities we were able to pack in, considering (a) how little time we really spent there, only four days, and (b) how intoxicated we were the majority of the vacation. Productivity at its finest!

Now I am back home, sitting alone at my desk, looking around my room, and feeling deflated. This is borrrrringgggg. I don’t understand those people who are all, “I can’t even relax on vacation! After two days I am so ready to get back to the real world. I hate feeling so lazy, there’s so much to get done!”… oh, shut up. You can do my work, too, then. Don’t get me wrong, I do love my job and I feel good after working hard on a project or whatever. But let’s get real. If I could spend the entire summer the exact same way I spent this extended weekend, I would be in heaven. I would not feel guilty in the slightest (in this imagined scenario, clearly I would have a lot more money and maybe six-pack abs).
We were talking in the car on the way home about how awesome it was being a kid in the summertime. No job, no school, maybe, like, sports camp (or if you were me, theatre camp, holla!) and even for that “obligation” your parents are the ones responsible for scheduling and paying for it and driving your ass around to it. One drawback, there is no sex and no alcohol, so you do miss out on those summertime delights. As a kid, though, those aren’t even on your radar. (Hopefully.) That might be even better! You are free to be totally lazy and selfish… unless you were some superachiever prodigy but clearly that was not my childhood experience. Now we’re adults and have to work for a living and worry about finances, relationships, careers… ugh, so complicated and often so devoid of satisfaction. I can deal with it, but c’mon, at least give me summer break! Twelve months of this bullshit?! It seems so unfair.

That is why our trip’s theme song should be everyone’s ultimate summertime life theme song. Observe:

Special thanks to Patrick for busting out that song on his iPod on our ride down, and another special thanks to Matt for getting it permanently in my head by constantly humming it while we were playing golf together. And special thanks to me, actually, for finding this sweet vid on YouTube.
We love everybody but we do as we please
When the weather’s fine
We go fishin’ or go swimmin’ in the sea
We’re always happy
Life’s for livin’ yeah, that’s our philosophy
…would that it could be so simple, eh? I think that’s why I love/hate taking trips. For a few days, you can pretend.
Now to detox, work out, unpack, balance my checkbook… okay, jk on that last one, I have never balanced a checkbook in my life. I do as I please!

serious baggage

In a misguided attempt to be productive tonight, I decided to “clean and organize my entire room” which obviously means “empty out my purse, get annoyed, then watch DVRed E! reality shows on the elliptical.” Nonetheless, cleaning out my one purse proved to be a very daunting task. I became very overwhelmed by my possessions, and my life itself. Peruse this list of unnecessary handbag contents, and perhaps you will realize why.
(Note: I promise I am not exaggerating ANYTHING.)

- My passport (for all the international travel I so frequently embark on…)
- Two packets of Orbitz gum (normal)
- Two packets of Japanese Mamba candy (not normal)
- Three different chapsticks
- Three packets of oral contraceptives (cause I guess you just never know how protected you need to be)
- An eyeshadow that I swear I have owned since I was 17
- A personalized, signed copy of Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea
- No less than 10 expired Metro transfers
- A pair of $5 H&M sunglasses in a $100 Pucci sunglass case (because it’s all about appearances)
- Two pairs of earbuds
- One earring. I lost its match on campus at UW about four years ago, and here this lone earring shall remain.
- Mini tube of Colgate toothpaste
- Gatorade caps
- About eight different post-its with different people’s addresses on them
- Rosary necklace
Finally, and probably most hilarious/mysterious…
- A whole, large, Walla Walla sweet onion!

And BP thought they had issues cleaning up that oil spill! How much more work can one be expected to complete after dealing with this disaster?! In case you haven’t guessed, I carry a pretty large purse. It’s deceptively regular from the outside, but that bag can clearly hold some shit.
Now that I have completed the laborious mission of dumping all those contents on my floor, desk, and/or the foot of my bed, I am too tired to handle the rest. The new plan is to get into said bed with a glass of red wine and a DVD of The OC. Really, what more can a 20something young professional woman want out of a Tuesday night…

sunday morning smackdown

I awoke from a very vivid and realistic dream of being an Olympic swimmer (it could happen!) to the sad realization that I was fully clothed and fully hungover on Steph’s couch. We have spent a verrrry lazy morning here, mobbing on some delicious homemade bacon-avo eggs benedict and trying to piece together last night and how/why it quickly commenced on a downward spiral of self-destruction and gay leather bars. Oh well. Some things you will just never have an answer to.
Stephanie says: “I don’t think we learned any lessons, though.”

Here are snippets of our ultra-important and competent conversations this morning:

(Chris and Ryan are playing with an air rifle.)

Emily: What is that thing?! What is its purpose?
Chris: Nothing. To do this. (while Ryan is fake shooting it in his face)
Emily: But… why?
Chris: Had to spend money on something.
Emily: Wait, you refused to go out to breakfast this morning because you didn’t want to “waste money” but the air gun was a necessity?
Steph: …Yep.
Emily: But why own it? Is it, like, part of a program or something?
Steph: A “program”? A program for what?

Ryan: You guys, I had the best day at work on Friday! First of all, this lady gave me a gift basket full of candy for delivering a package to her door.
Emily: Why did she give you a gift basket for just doing your job?
Ryan: Because I bought it to her actual door! It was great. She even gave me sour apple Warheads! Those are my favorites, for all of your future reference.
Emily: I haven’t thought about those since junior high.
Ryan: Then, I was bored and was digging through the trash at work…
Steph: You were digging through the trash because you were bored?
Ryan: Yeah, and I found a Nalgene!
Emily: You found a Nalgene in the trash? Good one.
Chris: What’s a Nalgene?
Steph: Wait, no, do you seriously dig through the trash at your workplace?
Ryan: That’s shit’s like $10 in the store!
Chris: WHAT’S A NALGENE?
Emily: C’mon. You know what Nalgene is.
Chris: I’ll know once I Google it.
Ryan: Then we can go outside, cook some ribs, and toss around the Nalgene.
Steph: …What?

Chris: Steph, do you want to come to the store with us?
Steph: I can just tell you what I need and you can pick it up for me.
Chris: Sweet, then I don’t have to buy all that name-brand shit.
Ryan: Yes! Safeway Select brand, bitches!
Steph: But I need name-brand cheese because it tastes better!
Chris: Did you say “Velveeta”? I thought you said “Lucerne.”

crimes of the heart

I haven’t written in so long. I have been busy with things like partying in Miami and working a legitimate job. (I can tell I need to practice my writing more, as I just spelled that “legitamate” on first attempt.)

Yes, now that I have a “real” career of some sort and am not attempting to sustain my existence via freelance copywriting and social marketing… I have (a) less time to chill on the blogosphere and (b) less desperation to get read/noticed, since my paycheck doesn’t depend on any type of e-success. Despite my lack of internetting, somehow I still find the time to peruse and make fun of seattletimes.com every morning. On this lazy Sunday I stumbled upon a true gem of a news article:

Nev. woman accused of stealing wine while topless

A Nevada woman is accused of stealing a bottle of wine from a store while she was topless and intoxicated.

MINDEN, Nev. —
A Nevada woman is accused of stealing a bottle of wine from a store while she was topless and intoxicated.
Brandi Smith, of Gardnerville, acknowledged her behavior was “mind-boggling” during an appearance Wednesday before a judge to face charges of indecent exposure, felony drunken driving and burglary.
Authorities say the 41-year-old was arrested May 10 after stealing a $20 bottle of wine, then driving to a nearby fast-food restaurant, where an off-duty sheriff’s deputy kept her in the vehicle until other deputies arrived.
A preliminary test revealed a blood-alcohol level of 0.14 percent, nearly twice the legal limit.
A records search found Smith has two prior convictions of driving under the influence in California.
She was in jail on $5,000 bail.

This is awesome on so many levels. And, yes, definitely mind-boggling. Before we judge Brandi too hastily, though, let’s keep something in mind. Yesterday morning I was wandering topless through my kitchen (hey, I was home alone and had just gotten out of the shower) when I saw a huge bag of European chocolates that must have been acquired by my Norwegian roommate. I was sooooo tempted to steal some. If I had given into this urge, I would have committed almost the same crime. (Take note, I was a good person and did NOT scam any of the candy, even though clearly it had been placed there to sabotage me. Also take note that I first spelled sabotage as “sabatogue” and once again I am appalled by myself.) So am I that different from 41-year-old drunkass Brandi Smith?!? Well, kind of, since I wasn’t drunk, wasn’t driving, and didn’t steal anything. On second thought, I am way different from her. Sorry girl, I can’t defend your actions. Judge away, readers!

single mothers: welcome?

me:  should it make me feel weird that a craigslist ad says at the bottom “single mothers welcome” ?
for their job applicants?
AJ:  i think it should make you feel weird if it said “single mothers not welcome”
me: i would probably think it was funny
AJ:  i would apply just because of it
me:  would you say you were a single mother?
AJ:  yes
me:  even though they EXPLICITLY said single mothers not welcome?!
AJ:  yes. and i would prove that i am just as able as everyone else
me: this is sounding very inspirational
AJ:  hahaha
me:  like a movie
AJ: ”he was a single mother, trying to make ends meet”
me:  hahahah “HE”
AJ:  yup. because i’m starring in this movie
me:  how can we sell audiences on the idea of a male single mother
AJ:  that’s the twist, to draw people
me:  “what?! how can HE be a mother?!” “…and how is he going to make ends meet?!”
AJ:  by proving he is just as able as everyone else
me:  …that answers the second question, but not the first. actually, or DOES it answer both?
AJ:  it does
me:  i guess we’ll have to head to theatres on MAY 9th, 2010 to find out. (that’s mother’s day btw)
AJ:  hahaha. perfect
me: too bad we can’t call our movie “mr. mom” cause i think that one’s already been taken

ultimate miami playlist

I’m headed to Miami in less than 12 hours! Spring break! Immediately after I land, it should look something like this:

…maybe.
(By the way, everyone should do themselves a favor and Google Image “spring break” like I just did. Comedy.)

In all seriousness, I decided that this epic vacation deserves an iTunes playlist, as every occasion does. Are you ready for the ULTIMATE MIAMI PLAYLIST that I just created?!?!?

1. LMFAO – “I’m in Miami, Bitch”
2. Will Smith – “Miami”
3. Gloria Estafan – anything. but only pick one song or you’ll get annoyed.

Now just put this playlist on “shuffle” and “repeat all” and get ready for HOURS of prefunking enjoyment on the airplane. Try to get your seatmates in on the action! Singing loudly while repeatedly pushing the “stewardess help” button to request rounds of mini bottles of Malibu rum should do the trick.