Watch Out For Poompy

Sibley wanted to know. And now I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep at night.
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After he came up with these results, I looked at him and said, "You'd eat human flesh to survive???" He replied with a completely straight face, in a calm, even voice: "You'd starve to death with food nearby?"

Oh. My. God. I'm married to a cannibal.

Thanks A Lot, Sibley.

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I am now thoroughly freaked out.

We Reap What We Sow

Poompy and I come home from an evening out with friends and were looking forward to curling up and doing married people things, but oh no. Not tonight. Because, see, we have four animals. Four. We open the front door and are greeted by the following scene:

The Chiremlin feasting on a pile of litter-caked cat poo, Theo lapping up a puddle of what could only be cat-poo-vomit released unto the carpet thanks to the Chiremlin, Toby cleaning out our toaster oven with his tongue, and Amelia hacking up a hairball onto our clean but not yet put away laundry.

Remind me again why we have four animals?

Tragedy

Let's just take a minute and say a prayer for the family and friends of actor Heath Ledger. He was an artist I truly admired. It's a terrible, terrible loss. And a frightening reminder of just how fragile life really is.

Los Angeles Tourists:

Stay the hell off the freeways during commuter times! I think that it is great that you are here, really I do. Everyone should see L.A. at some point. Hollywood Boulevard, Sunset Strip, Disneyland...well...that is Anaheim, but oh well. It is all great, I know. And I understand that you want to "get a head start" and "take advantage of the day". But if you don't know where you are going, Please, for the love of all good things, don't get on that freeway until at least 10:00 AM. We Los Angeleans KNOW where we are going. We know what lane to be in at all times. We know exactly where our exits are. We know what the traffic should be doing at every minute of the day. You, you tourist, DON'T. I understand that in every other part of this country (except Texas) 65 mph might be considered a bit faster than the norm. DEAL WITH IT. If you cut me off again going a cool 50, I will hunt you down and slash the tires of your compact rental car. If you signal left and jolt into the right lane in front of me again, I will stop you fast and rip you out of that driver's seat. This one I don't understand at all; rental car or not, isn't the turn indicator a standard down=left, up=right? MORON.

OH! And one for the spammers who insist on replying to posts: stop peddling your shit on my blog. I don't need to meet some 90 year old psycho who claims he is 26, asks me for coffee, then they find pieces of me scattered througout the Hollywood Hills. Also, it is pretty damn obvious that I don't know you when you offer me, a very small 85 pound person, weight-loss advice. I've got enough of that to share. THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

I am sorry, I don't know what has come over me. My brain is fried from this heat. I will be happier tomorrow. I promise. Don't go away! I really can be a very positive, happy person. You'll see.

I have the BEST Poompy EVER

He just gave me my birthday present and it's something I've wanted for years.

Guess what it is!

No, it isn't a dead animal. No, it's not a shiny piece of charcoal either. It's a pair of 20-hole Doc Martens! I really do have the best Poompy in the world.

Puppy Shower

I was cruising Overheard In New York when I saw this. I thought to myself, "No Way. No one would ever have a puppy Shower because that's stupid." Turns out I'm wrong.

Click here to see the latest thing to make me want to gouge my eyeballs out of my head with a dull butter knife.

If anyone ever invited me to their "Puppy Shower" I would immediately end the relationship. Immediately. Because a Puppy Shower is just a really lame excuse to make your friends buy you crap you don't really need. And because I'd be really jealous because I have two dogs and no one has ever thrown me a Puppy Shower. 

24 hours Rock Star-style

Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a Rock Star? Well, I can tell you. Because I know. Because I lived it. Sure, it was only for 24 hours and I didn't have to deal with paparazzi or screaming fans and I didn't accept any awards or perform any awesome shows or do copious amounts of drugs or sleep with any random strangers or anything like that, but still.

This past week, Dr. J and I left beautiful Manhattan for Sunny California. We were invited to the Aesthera Annual Awards Dinner in downtown San Diego as "Guest Speakers". Pretty freaking snazzy, huh? Well, at least for me. Dr. J is used to that kind of thing. Anyway. At 7 a.m. sharp we hopped into a sleek black town car and drove to JFK. We flew Jet Blue (Yay Direct TV for five hours straight!) to San Diego and aside from the plane taking off over an hour late, the trip was easy and uneventful.

We were met at the airport by a chauffeur holding a sign for us, escorted to another sleek black town car, and driven to this GOR-GE-OUS five-star hotel in downtown San Diego. I felt totally famous. I mean, except for when the chauffeur slammed the car door on my legs (twice) so he could help Dr. J get out of the car and except for when he made me carry my own bag even though he totally could've carried mine and Dr. J's at the same time but apparently he just didn't feel like it, and except for when he shut the trunk after putting Dr. J's bag in and I had to ask him to open the trunk so I could put my bag in and rather than opening the trunk for me and taking my bag like it's his JOB to do, he just popped the trunk and made me do it myself, except for all that I felt totally pampered. When all that happened, I felt more like the assistant-to-a-Rock Star rather than an actual Rock Star, but still.

Once we got to the hotel, after we waited for forty-five minutes to get our room key, I totally felt like a Rock Star some more. I mean, this place was insane. Doormen, cabana boys, velvet wallpaper, antique furniture, marble floors, absolutely beautiful. Our room had this unbelievably lush carpeting, gorgeous bathrobes waiting for us, a coffee maker (ok, even the Hilton has a coffee maker, but still), a HUGE flat screen TV, a Dream Machine (seriously), an enormous marble shower, down comforters, down pillows, feather mattresses..... I've always thought that MY bed was the most comfortable bed in the world, until I took a nap in the bed at this hotel. Holy. Crap. It suddenly became VERY clear to me why some people would choose to spend upwards of $500 a night on a hotel room.

So here I am, my first time in such a posh hotel room, feeling like the Biggest Rock Star of All Time and what do you think I did? I pilfered the place. You can take the girl out of The Valley, but you can't take The Valley out of the girl. Travel size shampoo, lotion, mouth wash, sugar packets, coffee pods.... nothing was safe from my little fingers. Anything small enough to pocket landed in my suitcase before I even tested out the softness of the mattress. And of course, a couple of hours later when Dr. J wanted to make some coffee, I had to fess up and sheepishly hand her a coffee pod. Only slightly embarrassing. Five minutes after that she says, "I can't believe they didn't give us sugar and creamer!" Sigh. Out they came from my bag, to her utter amusement. Luckily.

Anyway, after we dropped our bags at the hotel, after I'd pilfered the goodies but before I'd had to fess up to it, Dr. J and I headed down the street to this little sushi place where we GORGED ourselves on fresh sashimi and cocktails.... for free. Well, not for free, but we didn't have to pay for it, so basically for free. Because we were like totally Rock Stars. After that, we took delicious naps in our comfy 5 star beds and after that, we primped and after THAT we were GUESTS OF FREAKING HONOR at this awards dinner. We got applauded and thanked and PAID and everything. Totally hot, right? I know. The dinner was an unbelievable four course gourmet spread involving teensy beautifully arranged servings of lobster and steak (poor little lobsties and cowsies) and cappuccino cakes and lots of free wine. And all night people came up to us gushing about how freaking awesome we are. I know. You're jealous. It's cool. I would be too.

So with full happy bellies, after a mere nine hours in San Diego, we packed our little carry-on's and said good-bye to our luscious hotel room and hopped into our third sleek black town car of the day and headed back to the airport where Dr. J treated us to upgrades so we could take our red-eye in style. Oh yes. You read that right. This little Valley Girl flew first class. I slept through the whole thing, but still. It was beautiful. Except for the turbulence which woke me up several times and had me praying for my life and except for having to change planes in D.C. and except for having to ride with the common man in economy class from D.C. to NYC. Other than that, it was beautiful.

So, yeah. Pretty much, if (and I'm saying "IF", people) all it took to be a Rock Star was to spend a lot of time on a plane in a 24 hour period and nap in a posh hotel and eat a lot of expensive food, then I would be a completely real Rock Star by now. Because I did that. Me. Well, me and Dr. J, but still.

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Don't you wanna know WHY we were asked to speak at the Aesthera Awards Dinner??? Because Dr. J is an awesome doctor who uses the Aesthera laser and I am one of her patients who went from being a nasty-ass pizza face, to having gorgeous, flawless skin in a matter of months! I stood up in front of a hundred business men and women in evening wear and talked about the trials and pain of being an adult (in name only) who suffers from acne. I even cried, you guys. I cried. It was perfect. The audience ATE IT UP. I gots me some serious stage presence, fo sho.

I love my neighborhood

Amazing things happen where I live.

It happened before I could stop it....

I've often been heard whining about how I think New Yorkers are really lazy because they think it's too much trouble to travel from downtown to uptown. Kids, learn from my example. Watch your mouths. I totally get on the subway now instead of walking ten blocks. I cringe with dread when I know I have to head all the way downtown for something. I have my groceries delivered because walking four blocks with a weeks worth of groceries is too exhausting. I HATE traveling cross-town even though I know Manhattan is only about three miles wide at it's widest point. But the real kicker?

Yesterday I dropped my laundry off to be washed for me. That's right. I can't even do my own laundry anymore. I'm actually paying someone else to do it for me.

I don't think I'm in the Valley anymore....

No Odors, so you can get some. Some what?

For the man who is too lazy to shower, but not too lazy to apply cream to his nads, click here.

Happy New Year!

I hope you all had a simply wonderful New Years Eve. Poompy and I shared a really perfect holiday together. I mean, we paaaartied haaaard. Seriously.

Ok, I'm lying. We totally took it easy because we were (are) EXHAUSTED from our Christmas holiday. We slept until about 11:30 on the 31st and the first thing we did when we got up was eat cereal. I know, it's pretty exciting. Then we took the dogs to the park for about two hours, then we came home and did an hour of yoga together. And chanted mantras. Yes, you read that correctly. It pretty much rocked. THEN we made jalapeno poppers and ate Christmas dinner left-overs and THEN we made giant lists of our goals for 2008, which we hung on the door in our "office" where we can look at it every single freaking day. THEN we plopped down in front of the TV and watched four episodes of The Shield and Superbad. And we forgot to ring in the New Year with the bottle of bubbly Poompy bought. But that's ok, we'll save it for a date night.

So, yeah. It might sound lame to you, but it was exactly what we needed to seal 2007 and open up 2008. I feel rested and happy and ..... now this you might really get a kick out of..... I'm totally ready to show off a new hair color for the new year! OMG y'all! I'm a brunette!

Whaddya think?

Old me:











New me:








We* think we prefer the dark hair. It's slimming! And it makes our eyes more intense, for sure. At least that's what we're told!**

Anyhow..... here's to wishing you a happy, healthy 2008 during which you make all your beautiful dreams come true! That's what we're*** aiming for!

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*From here on out, as in, for the rest of 2008 we are referring to ourselves as the Royal We. Totally.

**Ok, sorry, enough of that. I just read Perez Hilton and I got stuck in his obnoxiousness for a minute. I won't really refer to myself as we or whatever. It was a phase that barely lasted the length of this post. You can now breathe easy.

***Me and Poompy, not the Royal We. Silly. I stopped doing that! Seriously.