What I've learned this week:
1. Sometimes I share too much with people who don't know me very well. It's one thing to bare a dark secret to strangers onstage and turn it into a joke, but it's worse to drop it into conversation with someone you know *a little*... "ONE TIME, I MADE MY HUSBAND SO MAD HE SPIT ON ME." Aahhhh that's adorable....and you must be CRAZY!
2. I am uncomfortable folding my underwear in front of my roomate.
3. I need new underwear.
4. Positive healing energy directed to someone in need is a powerful thing. If you are reading this, please send some healing vibes to my friend Shelley.
5. Making low-fat cookies allows me to justify eating more of them.
6. I look rediculous doing pilates in my living room. (whoever was spying through the blinds tonight- you're WELCOME for the free boob shot).
8. I need better blinds.
9. Late-night dialing ends in frustration. Unless it's the "it's Michael's birthday, and listen to how drunk we are!" call....then it's hilarious.
8. Clean sheets make me happy.
9. I need a diagram to flip my mattress (every time!)
10. Weeds was worth the wait. (say that three times)
11. I am proud of people who are living their dreams, even if I don't know them. Of course, it's cooler when the people are also nice. (I met some people in Aspen last year who made a film that was nominated for an OSCAR this week....I emailed just to say congrats, and the director emailed me back. Cool).
12. I hate Oprah's hair right now
13. I'm not good with numbers.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Sunday, January 14, 2007
LAUNDROMAT OF FUN
PART I.
I have a short attention span. In the time it takes me to write this blog, I will think of 20 other things I need to do (websites to look up, people to email/call back, things to do this week, etc). By the time I finish this blog, I will have forgotten all of them. For this reason, I hate doing laundry at my apartment. It takes a full day of focused effort to get all my laundry done, one load at a time. I set the kitchen timer so I can turn the laundry when it is done, but I still forget about it. I hear the beep and think, "I will go turn the laundry in a minute." An hour or two later, I remember. And sometimes, I don't remember until the next day when I have no underwear. CRAP! And on several occasions I've gone out to the laundry room and found that someone has not only taken my underwear out of the dryer but folded it nicely. EWWWW. Hands off my junk, stranger!
ANYWAY, I've gotten off track (see how I am?). The point is that I discovered that I love going to the laundromat down the street. I live in "the valley," so it's pretty suburban (no meth heads or tap dancers), and relatively safe. When I was younger, the laundromat was a place we went to out of dispair- when our machine at home was broken, or when my parents were fighting and my mom needed a break. It was always a place I associated with sadness. Sad people, sad about their lives, carting around sad children who had to sit with their sad parent and wait for their laundry, sad about NOT being able to stay home and play with other children....you know just SAD.
But now, no sadness. I go because it is more efficient- it is a place of EMPOWERMENT! I go in with a mission. I prepare. I have a game plan. I have all my quarters, my detergent, my dirty laundry in layers for each load, and either a book, my laptop, or my notebook to write in. Each time I go, I make it a personal challenge to get in and out in ONE HOUR. Depending on the time of day, this challenge is not only possible, but it can be FUN. It involves focus, concentration, timing...and most importantly: NOT talking to strangers.
Uhmm....yeah. That's the hard part. People always want to talk to you at the laundromat. I am ON A MISSION. NO TALKIE TALK ON A MISSION, PEOPLE.
HEY cute guy in sweat pants washing your comforter with a "mystery stain"- NO, I don't know how to use the industrial washer! Hey loud foreign woman who has never used a quarter machine- sorry, but I can't help you! Hey hipster/socially awkward guy- I want to tell you can have my machine in two minutes, so you don't have to shove all of your laundry into the only open machine, but I can't! I can't initiate, and I will not respond. Because I am NOT TALKING TO STRANGERS!
I am wearing my sunglasses. I am reading my book. I am pretending to be a mute, quietly observing what's going on around me, while keeping an eagle eye on the giant cage-enclosed clock above the door. Twenty-five minutes till liftoff suckas! THIS IS A RACE PEOPLE. OUTTA MY WAY! I am not here to engage or make friends. I'm here to fold my own underwear and be gone before you figure out which way to put your dollar in.
PART II.
The best part about being a mute laundry ninja is observing the others. I cannot engage in conversation, but I feel it is my DUTY as an actor who finds joy in mocking others to observe. Some of them are normal, but most of them are CRAZY (said the mute girl on a sunglass-clad mission!)
One day, there was the lady who obviously never learned the art of sorting. She had all of her laundry in a massive garbage bag, and a bottle of Shout in her hand. She took each piece out of the bag, COMPMLETELY covered it with a shocking amount of Shout and then fretted about which machine to put it in (she was monopolizing EIGHT different machines at once). And the whole time, she was breathing heavily and mumbling "...there's so much pressure at the laundromat. I feel so pressured! Jeeezz."
But today, it happened. The best character study EVER walked in, and I almost missed it. I was reading yet another self-help book, immersed in the possibility of changing my mocking ways. And out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her. She was wearing pigtails. "Cute" I thought, until she turned around. A LITTLE too old to be rockin pigtails honey (late 50s?). But still...cute. She was wearing jeans, tennis shoes and a t-shirt. She reminded me of Amy Sedaris. She had been there for about 5 minutes, unloading her garbage bag into a machine.
So, I'm reading, and I notice that she's putting on a skirt. OVER her jeans. In an instant I think 3 thoughts at once. "She's trying to see if it still fits," "Maye it's clean enough to skip washing this time," and "That would be awesome if this was a hidden camera show and she takes her clothes off to wash them."
WELL GUESS WHAT PEOPLE? She did it. Door Number 3. She takes her shoes off, wiggles out of her jeans (unerneath the skirt because WOAH ooohh WOAH, she's a LADY), puts the jeans in the machine, and then leaves. I laugh to myself, thinking "I'm psychic, where's the camera. I bet they have a killer reaction shot from me."
Five minutes later (I'm folding like a banshee- 10 minutes til liftoff suckas!), I see she has returned. Why? I thought she was done loading the machine....what could she possibly do to top the "jeans-off under the skirt" move? That's when I notice she is now wearing a red wool coat, and combined with her pigtails, bare legs and sneakers, she's looking even more crazy. It's not that cold in here. She closes the lid on her machine, and wraps the coat VERY TIGHTLY around her torso. She comes over to the dryers toward me (too close really, but I didn't say excuse me because I am mute), and she looks in her dryer wishfully. I glance at her back, and down the red coat to where it is split at the bottom (she was INCHES away from me, don't judge). GUESS WHAT? No skirt peeking out the back of the coat. NO SKIRT! Just legs and underwear. AND NO SHIRT (she was holding the coat really tightly remember?? No SHIRT, NO SKIRT, NO SERVICE lady! WHAT THE HELL?
She must have done the "shirtsy offsy underneath coat" move in her car, or in the alley when she left the first time. She must have been washing everything she owned. Maybe she had a hot date tonight and needed the skirt immediately. Who knows.
All I know is that she beat me. Her mission was even more dangerous, and more successful than mine. Liftoff happened at one hour and FIVE minutes, and I didn't wash EVERYTHING because I kept my clothes on.
You win this round crazy people! But I'll be back. This is not the last you'll hear from the mute laundry ninja. MWWAAAHHHAAAHAA. (can you technically hear anything from a mute laundry ninja?)
Now what was I gonna remember to do??
I have a short attention span. In the time it takes me to write this blog, I will think of 20 other things I need to do (websites to look up, people to email/call back, things to do this week, etc). By the time I finish this blog, I will have forgotten all of them. For this reason, I hate doing laundry at my apartment. It takes a full day of focused effort to get all my laundry done, one load at a time. I set the kitchen timer so I can turn the laundry when it is done, but I still forget about it. I hear the beep and think, "I will go turn the laundry in a minute." An hour or two later, I remember. And sometimes, I don't remember until the next day when I have no underwear. CRAP! And on several occasions I've gone out to the laundry room and found that someone has not only taken my underwear out of the dryer but folded it nicely. EWWWW. Hands off my junk, stranger!
ANYWAY, I've gotten off track (see how I am?). The point is that I discovered that I love going to the laundromat down the street. I live in "the valley," so it's pretty suburban (no meth heads or tap dancers), and relatively safe. When I was younger, the laundromat was a place we went to out of dispair- when our machine at home was broken, or when my parents were fighting and my mom needed a break. It was always a place I associated with sadness. Sad people, sad about their lives, carting around sad children who had to sit with their sad parent and wait for their laundry, sad about NOT being able to stay home and play with other children....you know just SAD.
But now, no sadness. I go because it is more efficient- it is a place of EMPOWERMENT! I go in with a mission. I prepare. I have a game plan. I have all my quarters, my detergent, my dirty laundry in layers for each load, and either a book, my laptop, or my notebook to write in. Each time I go, I make it a personal challenge to get in and out in ONE HOUR. Depending on the time of day, this challenge is not only possible, but it can be FUN. It involves focus, concentration, timing...and most importantly: NOT talking to strangers.
Uhmm....yeah. That's the hard part. People always want to talk to you at the laundromat. I am ON A MISSION. NO TALKIE TALK ON A MISSION, PEOPLE.
HEY cute guy in sweat pants washing your comforter with a "mystery stain"- NO, I don't know how to use the industrial washer! Hey loud foreign woman who has never used a quarter machine- sorry, but I can't help you! Hey hipster/socially awkward guy- I want to tell you can have my machine in two minutes, so you don't have to shove all of your laundry into the only open machine, but I can't! I can't initiate, and I will not respond. Because I am NOT TALKING TO STRANGERS!
I am wearing my sunglasses. I am reading my book. I am pretending to be a mute, quietly observing what's going on around me, while keeping an eagle eye on the giant cage-enclosed clock above the door. Twenty-five minutes till liftoff suckas! THIS IS A RACE PEOPLE. OUTTA MY WAY! I am not here to engage or make friends. I'm here to fold my own underwear and be gone before you figure out which way to put your dollar in.
PART II.
The best part about being a mute laundry ninja is observing the others. I cannot engage in conversation, but I feel it is my DUTY as an actor who finds joy in mocking others to observe. Some of them are normal, but most of them are CRAZY (said the mute girl on a sunglass-clad mission!)
One day, there was the lady who obviously never learned the art of sorting. She had all of her laundry in a massive garbage bag, and a bottle of Shout in her hand. She took each piece out of the bag, COMPMLETELY covered it with a shocking amount of Shout and then fretted about which machine to put it in (she was monopolizing EIGHT different machines at once). And the whole time, she was breathing heavily and mumbling "...there's so much pressure at the laundromat. I feel so pressured! Jeeezz."
But today, it happened. The best character study EVER walked in, and I almost missed it. I was reading yet another self-help book, immersed in the possibility of changing my mocking ways. And out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her. She was wearing pigtails. "Cute" I thought, until she turned around. A LITTLE too old to be rockin pigtails honey (late 50s?). But still...cute. She was wearing jeans, tennis shoes and a t-shirt. She reminded me of Amy Sedaris. She had been there for about 5 minutes, unloading her garbage bag into a machine.
So, I'm reading, and I notice that she's putting on a skirt. OVER her jeans. In an instant I think 3 thoughts at once. "She's trying to see if it still fits," "Maye it's clean enough to skip washing this time," and "That would be awesome if this was a hidden camera show and she takes her clothes off to wash them."
WELL GUESS WHAT PEOPLE? She did it. Door Number 3. She takes her shoes off, wiggles out of her jeans (unerneath the skirt because WOAH ooohh WOAH, she's a LADY), puts the jeans in the machine, and then leaves. I laugh to myself, thinking "I'm psychic, where's the camera. I bet they have a killer reaction shot from me."
Five minutes later (I'm folding like a banshee- 10 minutes til liftoff suckas!), I see she has returned. Why? I thought she was done loading the machine....what could she possibly do to top the "jeans-off under the skirt" move? That's when I notice she is now wearing a red wool coat, and combined with her pigtails, bare legs and sneakers, she's looking even more crazy. It's not that cold in here. She closes the lid on her machine, and wraps the coat VERY TIGHTLY around her torso. She comes over to the dryers toward me (too close really, but I didn't say excuse me because I am mute), and she looks in her dryer wishfully. I glance at her back, and down the red coat to where it is split at the bottom (she was INCHES away from me, don't judge). GUESS WHAT? No skirt peeking out the back of the coat. NO SKIRT! Just legs and underwear. AND NO SHIRT (she was holding the coat really tightly remember?? No SHIRT, NO SKIRT, NO SERVICE lady! WHAT THE HELL?
She must have done the "shirtsy offsy underneath coat" move in her car, or in the alley when she left the first time. She must have been washing everything she owned. Maybe she had a hot date tonight and needed the skirt immediately. Who knows.
All I know is that she beat me. Her mission was even more dangerous, and more successful than mine. Liftoff happened at one hour and FIVE minutes, and I didn't wash EVERYTHING because I kept my clothes on.
You win this round crazy people! But I'll be back. This is not the last you'll hear from the mute laundry ninja. MWWAAAHHHAAAHAA. (can you technically hear anything from a mute laundry ninja?)
Now what was I gonna remember to do??
Thursday, January 4, 2007
DENVER IS MY NEW BOYFRIEND
OH Denver. I love you. I hate you. I need you. I need to be away from you. I want to snuggle with you when it's snowing, and I want to push you away when you snore. JUST LIKE A BOYFRIEND. A boyfriend who hits you, but then asks if you've been losing weight, because you flew back a lot farther than normal. "Oh come on sweetheart, it's a compliment!"
Denver is awesome. Don't let the Real World fool you, there are more than three bars (and no one has a ski lift or a stuffed ELK chilling in their loft apartment). I have lived there all my life, and I just discovered 2 new bars and 2 cool neighborhoods that I had never heard of.
But Denver in a BLIZZARD makes you do crazy things. I had fun visiting- too much fun really. I saw a lot of people I wanted to see...and *almost* got out of town without falling into the "BLIZZARD VORTEX." I don't have any regrets....just a few moments that make me laugh, vomit, blush, or all three at the same time.
It was Christmas time. There was comedy. And drunk girls yelling rude things. I don't back down from confrontation. I take it head on....with a microphone in my hand. OOPS! You're right, if we met under different circumstances, we probably would be friends. We could have formed a "rude mean lady gang" that goes around town talking on cell phones and complaining when "the show is SO effing stupid." I think we should have purple jackets and big hair.
It was Tuesday. There was laughing, and then crying. And walking in the snow for some "eggs." I didn't know the store was so close to where I was staying...OOPS! BLIZZARD VORTEX.
It was the 11th hour. There was panic, a cell phone, and WAY TOO MUCH vulnerability. OO.OOO. OOOOOOPS! BLIZZARD VORTEX.
Mile High snow messes with your mind. And Mile High snowy mind messes with your strength. I have one foot in Denver and one foot here. And I hate my feet so much that I lock the door when I shower. If someone is going to break in with the intent to kill me while I shampoo.....he is gonna have to wait till I put my slippers on.
Regrets? Mistakes? No. I just call it life....with socks on.
Denver is awesome. Don't let the Real World fool you, there are more than three bars (and no one has a ski lift or a stuffed ELK chilling in their loft apartment). I have lived there all my life, and I just discovered 2 new bars and 2 cool neighborhoods that I had never heard of.
But Denver in a BLIZZARD makes you do crazy things. I had fun visiting- too much fun really. I saw a lot of people I wanted to see...and *almost* got out of town without falling into the "BLIZZARD VORTEX." I don't have any regrets....just a few moments that make me laugh, vomit, blush, or all three at the same time.
It was Christmas time. There was comedy. And drunk girls yelling rude things. I don't back down from confrontation. I take it head on....with a microphone in my hand. OOPS! You're right, if we met under different circumstances, we probably would be friends. We could have formed a "rude mean lady gang" that goes around town talking on cell phones and complaining when "the show is SO effing stupid." I think we should have purple jackets and big hair.
It was Tuesday. There was laughing, and then crying. And walking in the snow for some "eggs." I didn't know the store was so close to where I was staying...OOPS! BLIZZARD VORTEX.
It was the 11th hour. There was panic, a cell phone, and WAY TOO MUCH vulnerability. OO.OOO. OOOOOOPS! BLIZZARD VORTEX.
Mile High snow messes with your mind. And Mile High snowy mind messes with your strength. I have one foot in Denver and one foot here. And I hate my feet so much that I lock the door when I shower. If someone is going to break in with the intent to kill me while I shampoo.....he is gonna have to wait till I put my slippers on.
Regrets? Mistakes? No. I just call it life....with socks on.
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