January 30, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

I continue my long, strange trip through the Land of Crazy Sleep Patterns. It’s been several weeks now, and let me tell you, it’s getting old. Apparently I need to start taking drugs before bed, ‘cuz this all-natural lifestyle is not workin’ for me.

Last night’s Dreamland show centered on making lunch plans during exam week in high school. Remember how everyone’s schedule would be mixed up based on which exams were scheduled for that day and the lunch period was twice as long as usual and there was much schedule coordination required? Anyway, yes, I was making lunch plans - with people I knew in college, grad school, professional life, but few people actually from my high school days. In a building that was most certainly not my high school, and in fact did not resemble a school in the least.

And then I woke up. At 4:30 a.m. In the words of Dave Barry, I am not making this up. So, if I seem a bit discombobulated today, you’ll know why.

January 27, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

*The sound of angels singing.*

Glory hallelujah, there is a Chipotle a mere two miles from my office! Truly, the Fake Mexican Food Gods are smiling on me. (Note: I am making no claims here that Chipotle is real Mexican food, nor that it is the best Mexican around. Please, I do have some culinary taste!) And only two miles away! That’s totally drivable for a quick lunch run. Yes, that’s right, I drive to lunch. It’s California - I drive to lunch two blocks away. And I am much ashamed, because in DC a fifteen minute walk was considered “close enough,” but what are you gonna do? It’s just different here.

How can a girl survive without Chipotle??? The horror! The horror! Ten months I’ve lived here and I just became aware of Chipotle’s existence a couple of weeks ago. I shudder to think that I’ve been missing out that long, so I’ll just pretend that it opened last month. (Coincidentally, Chipotle’s IPO was issued yesterday. Sorry, it’s too late to make your quick millions. But, like me, you can pretend to own your own slice of the Burrito.)

Chipotle is oodles better than the Dos Coyotes three blocks from my office that I have been stupidly going to for my Fake Mexican Food fixes the last ten long, dark, Chipotle-less months, and for that I am eternally grateful. And today was definitely a Chipotle day, as the alignment of the stars clearly angered the Telephone Conference Call Gods, and they flung their wrath down upon me. But, we won’t go into that here. Happy thoughts!

I love America. And restaurant franchises that allow you to order the same thing from one end of the continent to the other and get exactly what you want. (Burrito Bol, no rice, just lettuce. Black beans, fajita vegetables. Maybe chicken, maybe not. Mild tomato salsa and corn salsa. No cheese or sour cream. Guacamole only if there’s no chicken and I’ve gone to the gym today. Not that I’m particular or anything.) And the guacamole! Mmmmmmmmmmm. Nothing can replace the Chipotle guacamole. Nothing. (Got that? No-thing.)

Filed under: The Fam

Yes, that’s right, today is my little brother’s birthday. And I, as the big sister, have the duty of informing the Internet and providing embarrassing pictures of you. It says so right in my contract. See?

Anyway, today (and it’s still the 26th here in California…aren’t time zones grand?) is Steve’s 23rd birthday. Which merely serves to make me old, old, old. But that’s ok. Cuz he’s really a pretty good kid (despite that high school propensity to refer to me as a dirty little whore, completely unprovoked) who loved dinosaurs and went to Space Camp and is now graduated from college and is an actor and works in finance and teaches improv classes and is listed on IMDB.com and everything. (Go look him up! But I will not link you directly to him, because you are not allowed to stalk him, random Internet people. So, if you don’t know our last name in real life, I apologize, but again remind you that I am the big sister in this equation, and this is how it’s gonna be.)

Ta-da!!!

This picture was taken in January 1983, according to the note on the back. So, my math skills say you were approximately one week old. Or less. Or it was actually from February, but, really, who’s gonna know? It was probably the day you came home from the hospital. Mom would know. I still remember being woken up and taken to the neighbors’ in my pajamas the night you were born. Which is pretty good, considering I was only four and did not yet have a firm grasp on Where Babies Come From. (And, thanks to Catholic schooling, that firm grasp didn’t arrive until sometime in high school. No, college. But that’s a different story.)

In short, Happy Birthday, little bro. Don’t forget me when you’ve written, scored, choreographed, are directing, producing, and starring in the hottest show on Broadway. Please? I’ll come see it, I promise!

January 26, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

I went to San Francisco last night to have drinks with a colleague, followed by dinner with a DC friend who’s in town for a few days. It was excellent. San Francisco, yay! A real city! With traffic! And expensive parking garages! And restaurants where you need a reservation on a Wednesday night! And requirements that you walk everywhere!

So today? I am exhausted. And have very sore feet, from the whole walking-around-the-neighborhood-in-search-of-a-restaurant-where-we-
don’t-need-reservations-in-three-inch-stiletto-heel-boots. And, yes, I knew there would be much walking, but I had to wear them – the boots rock! This knowledge in no way precludes me from complaining about the sore feet today, though. Beauty over pain, c’mon people! (Followed by whining, which is definitely not beautiful. Just be sure to do it in private for the entire Internet to read.)

The highlight of this little adventure had to have been the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, as it is officially known. The locals refer to it as the &*(#$%#& Bridge. It is annoying enough in regular traffic, but there was some sort of car fire thing that wreaked havoc on all the rest of us. But, I couldn’t be too upset, because at the toll booth just before getting on the bridge, I had the following experience:

Me: *Hand my $3.00 to the attendant.*
Toll Booth Attendant: You are beautiful.
Me: *Laugh; thinking, Why, yes, yes I am.*
Toll Booth Attendant: I love you.
Me: Thank you! *Thinking, May I proceed now? And, can I bottle this stuff?*

Just so you get a complete picture, Toll Booth Attendant was 40-ish and African. I know this because he had an accent from Zimbabwe or Jamaica or something. Queens maybe? At any rate, this is why you need to look stunning every time you leave the house: you just never know when someone is going to notice your kick-ass black stiletto-heeled boots and radiant beauty.

Also, a shout out to 92.7, which, on my drive back to Sacramento, played a “Cheesy ’80s Dance Mix Sung by Women with Fluffy Hair” for a good twenty minutes. Paula Abdul, Debbie Gibson, even a dance mix version of “Memory” from the musical Cats. No, no this didn’t make me feel old. Or lame for still knowing most of the words to these very tragic songs. Nope, not one bit.

And now, I’m off to hook myself up to some kind of caffeine IV, if it’s not too complicated. Because my tired little brain can’t handle much exertion today. Nor can my feet.

January 25, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

Thank you for tuning in to Sunday’s Special Edition Spazzing. (If you missed it, perhaps that’s for the best.) We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Except that I. Got. Nothin’. Work, work, blah de blah blah blah, work. Damn, that work thing is annoying sometimes! Perhaps I can distract you with something shiny and pretty? Ok, not shiny so much, but definitely pretty.

I walked into Macy’s looking for a pair of black and cream heels (I thought I owned every pair of black shoes known to woman, but apparently I was wrong because I now need black and cream heels) and walked out with these: Pretty New Red Shoes. I already have red boots and red going-out shoes and red cocktail-dress shoes, but no red wear-to-work shoes. So, this purchase was totally justified.

Here they are again!

Clearly Pretty New Red Shoes can solve all of life’s problems, from Special Edition Spazzing to not having enough time to write a proper blog entry. Maybe I should let Condi in on this little secret…our foreign policy would be the better for it.