Sometimes, you've just gotta say, "Fuck it."

I apologize for being so crass, but seriously, guys.  It took me 28 long years, but sometimes you've just gotta say, "fuck it."  I mean, this can apply to most anything, but as a Cancer, I'm a total drama queen.  (99.9% of you are saying to yourselves, "Um, YES" right now.  It's cool.)  There have been several situations recently where I could have gotten all crazy and emotional, but instead, I just shrug and move on.  Trust me - I can still be crazy at times.  I can still talk 100 miles a minute and complain and yell and whatever.  But sometimes...sometimes...

I can't get into specifics here, because I really have no idea who reads this crap anymore.  But there have been a few times recently where I have been accused of something that I KNOW I either didn't do, or wasn't a big deal.  So instead of being crazy and getting all passive aggressive and silent treatment-y, I just moved on.  I've got big plans, kids.  No time to worry about people's petty bullshit.

It's time to think about me.  I'm not going to say I always put other people first or I deserve some sort of humanitarian award, but for real, the older I get, the more I realize that I'm a pretty nice person.  I do nice things for people.  I choose who I want in my life, and I treat them well.  Am I wrong?  Nope.  And that's awesome - My mother taught me from a young age to be nice to people.  It's rare, and it's a quality that a lot of people out here in LA could really benefit from.  But I'm over it.  I'll always be nice, but it's time to think about my needs, as an almost 30 year old woman.  I've always believed that if I'm nice to people, they'll be nice in return.  But that is not always the case.  Sadly, it's OFTEN not the case.

So, time to do me, kids.  I like my job.  I love my friends, both from Buffalo and LA.  I've met some crazy awesome people out here, who I hope will be in my life for years to come.  I miss my friends from Buffalo, and I want them all to move here immediately so that my life can be complete.  In the meantime, I'm going to do what I want to do, when I want to do it.  You don't like that?  Shrug.  Fuck it.

Celebrity sightings of the Week:


1.)  Steve Carell:  I mean, just shut up.  Shut.  Up.  You all heard the story.  Ok.

  He's alarmingly skinny now.  Almost gross.  I hope it's a Christian Bale situation.

2.) Zac Efron:  I didn't tell you guys about this one.  I've seen him before, but just outside.  He actually came in this time.  Whatevs.  (JAAA-DED.)  I let my coworker serve him, because I'm over him.  (Though I did sort of collapse behind the espresso machine when he came in.  Sorry.  I'd rob that cradle every day of the week.  Twice on Sundays.)

    I had to restrain myself, but it's cool.  I'm too jaded to fawn over you now.

3.)  Kevin Dunn: (most recently known from Transformers):  I knew this guy when he came in, but it took me an entire day to figure out who he was.  We now call him "Transformers Dad."  He's been in the last 3 days in a row.

                           You know him, guys.  He's been in tons of stuff.

4.) Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy: (If I have to tell you who these two are, just get out of my life right now):  You heard this one too.  They were SO fucking nice, it should be a crime.  Ugh.  Bill Macy is basically one of my heroes, and I've loved Felicity since Transamerica.  (Ok, since Desperate Housewives, but I really loved that movie and thought she deserved the Oscar.)

            I collapsed, guys.  Most beautiful, nicest, best people EVER.


**PS - I totally forgot to tell you guys.  My boss' son, Nick?  The one who made it to the finals of the National Barista Competition?  He got 2nd.  To a guy in Hawaii.  So, basically, I work at a coffee shop that makes the best lattes in the continental United States.  Pretty fucking cool, right?

Words of Wisdom

Earlier tonight, I was having a mini breakdown at work due to something seemingly insignificant.  Our gelato order had just come in and did not include a few of our most popular flavors.  I was ranting about how we're going to get so much shit from all of the LA moms for not having Dairy Free Chocolate in the case all week when my coworker stopped me and said, "Brittne - why do you care?  This is not your problem."

That stopped me in my tracks.  Now, I think we all know by now that I enjoy a bit of complaining from time to time.  (Time to time = most of the minutes in a day.)  I get worked up over most anything; I sweat the small stuff, as they say.  Being out here has helped me to be a bit calmer - maybe 24%, by my estimation.  But I'm still the Steven Seagal: Lawman of Making Things My Problem.  So hearing this brought me back to a weird place in my own head.  Why was I complaining?  I didn't place the gelato order.  All I have to do is scoop and smile.  I feel like I need to adopt the saying, "This is not your problem" into more situations.

While admittedly given to me by a laid back surfer dude, it's a really good slice of wisdom pie to munch on, especially in work-like situations.  (I mean, unless it IS your problem, in which case, you should probably make it right.  Don't be that guy.)  Someone's not listening to me?  My shit's done - not my problem that yours isn't finished.  Coworker late to work, thereby making me anxious that I'm about to watch them get yelled at?  (Watching people get yelled at is on my top 10 list of most uncomfortable situations, guys.)  Not my problem - I'll find something to do so I won't have to watch.  We're out of bagels for the day?  Not my problem - how about a nice scone instead?  Boss walks in while coworkers are standing around talking?  Not my problem - I'm on my hands and knees, scrubbing out the fridge, thankyouverymuch.  Ooh, this could be refreshing.  Doubt it'll stick, though.  Damn surfers and their carefree attitudes.


Celebrity Sightings of The Week!


1. Sam Anderson (aka Bernard from LOST):  If you remember, Sam is the very first celebrity I saw in Los Angeles at my local Starbucks last fall.  I didn't have the guts to talk to him then, and I still don't, but I can sure serve the hell out of some gelato when he comes in.  (PS, this is now the fourth time I've seen him, you guys.)

        Bernard, were you ok when the island was all shaking and falling into the ocean?


2. Thomas Everett Scott (That Thing You Do!, Dead Man on Campus):  Nothing too exciting to report with this one.  I gasped quietly when I saw him, because I used to think he was beyond cute.  (I might still think he's beyond cute.)  He was very polite.  And cute.

                             Waaay cuter IRL.  And a tad gay-er.


3. Eddie Jemison (from Waitress and Hung):  SUCH a nice guy - has the two cutest kids on the planet.  He always makes time to ask us questions about our day or find out more about us.  The other day, some fan asked him about Hung, and he graciously gave them some info.  ADDED BONUS:  His kids aren't assholes.

                                   This is one awkward yet charming bastard.


4. Holland Roden (aka: younger version of John Locke's mom in LOST):  Ok, I know that literally 0.001% of you will even get this reference, but I wanted to remind you of how ridiculous I am.  This girl comes in a lot.  I've always thought she looked familiar, but never connected the dots.  After she left last week, I let out some sort of squeal and ran to get my phone.  I googled "Emily Locke" and tried to find out the actress' name who played the younger version.  In one episode of LOST.  I found it, and looked up her picture, but none of them looked like the character I remembered.  I was understandably distraught over possibly getting a celebrity sighting wrong, until my coworker remembered that the girl had paid with a credit card.  My coworker went over to the register to get the receipt.

Coworker:  "Uhh...what did you say her name was?"
Me:  "Holland Roden?"
Coworker:  "You are ridiculous."

Win.

                            She'll always be Emily Locke to me.


5. Taye Diggs (no description should be needed, unless you are named Martha Pace):  As I said on facebook, my cousin and I were walking around my neighborhood when she almost collided with a handsome black man.  Said black man was out with his famous wife and adorable child.  My cousin ran into him so hard, they almost open mouth kissed.  Here is that man:

                      Idina Menzel is being fierce.  Taye Diggs is looking in to your soul.


6. Jon Cryer:  Oh, did I forget to tell you guys?  His wife comes in all the time.  This was the first time I saw him there with her.  I really wanted to work "winning" or "tiger blood" into our transaction, but I didn't want a bajillionaire to give me bitch face.

                             Say "hey" to Ashton for me, k?


7. Jared Padalecki (from House of Wax and Supernatural):  Saw this one out at my favorite local bar.  He's very loud and likes the ladies a lot, bless his heart.  I was sort of impressed, as a fan of House of Wax - especially the scene (SPOILER ALERT!!) where he gets his Achilles tendon cut in a dark room.  Love that shit.

Unfortunately, I was way more jealous when my friend returned to the the same bar a few days later, sans me, and saw Penn Badgley from Gossip Girl.  Ugh.

                          You're cute, but you're no Dan Humphrey.

Irrational Fears

So I just wrote about this on facebook, but it got me thinking, so allow me to elaborate.  I just went outside on the patio attached to my room to have my last cigarette of the night.  I live on a really busy street, but at 3am, it's pretty quiet.  There's this huge white van parked right outside my bedroom.  Bigger than your average rape van, but with blackened windows.  I paid it no mind, and lit my smoke.  I had my laptop on my lap, so obviously my face was illuminated (as was, I assume, my cleavage).  30 seconds after I lit up, I heard the sound of the side door of the van opening.  I looked up, startled, to see a hand emerge and pour a liquid on the ground.  The interior of the van was pitch black except for a green blinking light.  The door closed.  I sat there, frozen.  Immediately, ridiculous thoughts began racing through my mind.  Cops on a stakeout?  Stalker bugging someone's apartment?  Sniper?  Creepy hippie who is watching my tv through my sliding glass door?  Pervy old man who was minding his own business until he saw a girl with big boobs come out on to her patio to smoke, so now he's contemplating hopping over my patio wall when my lights go out?  (I'm ready for bed, but have yet to turn my light off for that reason.)  These are things that I seriously think on a regular basis, you guys.  Any time anything remotely odd happens, I nod to myself and think, "Yep.  Home invasion time, Brit."

I've done this for years, and it can be both annoying and amusing.  Some of my fears are so irrational that I have to laugh at myself.  Just earlier, I had myself convinced that I would die because the eggs I cooked at work seemed a bit runny, and I've heard that raw eggs are bad for you.  I didn't even finish them.  So dumb, you guys.  I lay in bed several times a week and plan out exactly what I would do if someone was looking in my patio door at me.  (Freeze, pull the covers over my head, yell for BRO.)  Most of the scenarios I make up for myself involve some version of me freezing.  I mean, isn't that what you do when you hear a weird creak in your house at night?  I'm not an investigator.  I'm a hider.

The day "The Rapture" was supposedly upon us, BRO was having a bit of fun with me by asking me what I would do in various scenarios.  My answer every time, without fail, was, "sit in a corner and cry."  I'm just no good to anyone.  I'd like to think that I'd rise to the occasion if a Japan style earthquake were to hit LA, but mostly I think I'd just scream and cry and clutch my dog.

On a daily basis, I have at least 4 psychosomatic near-death experiences.  At a gas station?  Don't breathe too deeply, or you'll inhale too many fumes and die.  Working out?  You're breathing too hard, you're probably going to have a heart attack at any moment.  My brother driving me to work?  He's not paying attention and we're about to crash into that pole/car/old man.  Bringing the furniture inside after the cafe closes?  Some hoodlum is about to approach you and demand money before shooting you in the face.  This is my life.

I know I'm not the only one this happens to.  Last year, I was driving to NYC with a friend and it came up that I don't like being stopped under highway over-passes because I'm terrified that they'll collapse at that exact moment.  Her fear was even more irrational - she doesn't like being stopped just after the over-pass because she's terrified that a car will come careening over the edge and land on top of her car.  I had to laugh at that, but I secretly understood.  After all, I'm the kind of person who firmly believes that I have a blood clot in my leg at least once a week, for no other reason than they scare the shit out of me.

So now I have to try to go to sleep, knowing that there's some random person doing God knows what in a creepy van 50 feet away from my bed.  Thankfully, George barks at his own shadow, so at least I'll have some warning before I retreat, crying, to my corner.  

Pet Peeve of the Week!

Ok, guys, this is going to sound really lame and bitchy of me, but my Pet Peeve of the Week is LA moms.  Now, of course, this generalization does not apply to ALL LA moms.  I've met some lovely, wonderful, attentive moms over the past 8 (!!) months.  But there are a few exceptions.  Allow me to lay them out for you in list form, because listing things fills me with joy.

LA Moms who can suck it:

1.) The Mom Who Sends Her 7 Year Old and 5 Year Old Into My Cafe Alone With a Sweaty $20:  Listen, Moms, kids that age probably shouldn't go to the bathroom in your house alone, let alone wander down a busy street with visible money in their hands.  If your child can't read and/or still calls you to wipe their asses after they poo, they are not up to ordering gelato on their own during a busy weekend rush.  They point at the tags (remember, they're illiterate), and I can't see what they're pointing to, and then the SEVEN YEAR OLD talks to me like I'm an idiot because I didn't know they were pointing to the chocolate.  Oh yeah, bitch?  At least I wipe my own ass and can read The Cat in The Hat on my own before bed.

2.) The Mom Who Doesn't Teach Her Child Manners, And Seems To Encourage a General Sense of Entitlement And Scorn For People Who Serve Them:  These moms are among my favorites, because they will literally stand there with their sunglasses on, looking bored, while their child talks to me like we're on their plantation in the South in 1860.  They'll interrupt me, refuse to say please or thank you, and aggressively grab their cone/cup out of my hand and walk away.  They'll ask to try flavors like Vanilla, just to be assholes.  I'll say "Hi, how are you?" and the child will ignore me and demand a sample of Strawberry Chip.  This makes me unbelievably sad.

3.) The Mom Who Lets Their 3 Year Old Make All of The Decisions And Has All The Time In The World:  These moms KILL me.  They'll come in with an adorable child, barely old enough to say "ice cream," and they'll stand in front of the gelato case pondering EACH flavor (over 20), asking what the child is in the mood for.  First piece of advice: before you go get "ice cream" (IT'S GELATO), perhaps ask your child how the mood is striking them.  Is today a chocolate day?  A raspberry day?  Maybe some yummy Rocky Road?  Ok, you've got a plan.  LA mom doesn't do that.  They'll ask their 3 year old things like, "How about Honey Fig Marscapone?"  Their child will begin to loudly demand chocolate.  The LA mom will then spend 5-15 minutes trying to reason with the 3 year old, who is at this point dangerously close to a spoiled-piece-of-shit tantrum.

Once a flavor is decided upon (note: the 3 year old always gets his way), the argument about cup size will begin.  The child wants the large, of course.  The mother wants him to have the "kiddie" size.  The child obviously balks at the word "kiddie" and begins to lose his shit again.  The mother smiles, not apologetically, just affectionately.  How adorable your little asshole child is.  LA mom will finally give a little and decide on an adult small.  As I begin to scoop (at this point about to throw a tantrum of my very own), the child will decide he wants a cone instead.  I have already scooped 4.5 ounces of gelato into the cup and adorned it with a small cookie straw and plastic spoon.  The LA mom's response?  "Oh, you want a cone?"  This is said loud enough for me to hear, hoping that I'll rise to the occasion and save the day.  Most times, I'll just plop the cup on the counter and stare stupidly, forcing LA mom to ask me.  She'll wince slightly and say, "He wants a cone.  Is it...is it too late?"  Too late?  Why would it be too late?  I've basically completed the transaction, the gelato is already melting in the expensive cup that I'll now have to throw out, and the nice couple behind you has now been waiting patiently for 20 minutes while you talk to your 3 year old like an elderly father with dementia.  Nah, let me put that on a cone for you!  After this, a few more "requests" are demanded of me before we can be out of each other's lives for good.  (ie:  "I WANT SPRINKLES!!  I WANT TWO EXTRA CHOCOLATE STRAWS!  I DROPPED MY SPOON!  I DROPPED MY CONE!")  All the while, there are no sheepish apologies, no explanations of missed naps or troubled phases.  Just a swipe of the credit card and the shining beacon that is our future can happily sit wherever he wants, where he will promptly spill and smear gelato all over his immediate area and LA mom will leave it for me to clean without so much as a head's up.

Final note on LA Mom #3 - HE IS A CHILD.  TELL HIM HE GETS A SMALL VANILLA OR HE'S GOING HOME WITH NOTHING.  I cannot wait until that asshole is a teenager.

4.) LA Mom Who Lets Their Tween Child Order a Decaf Latte...But Only If It's "Nonfat:"  This is wrong on so many levels, I can't even.  I mean, this place is lousy with stage moms, but to blatantly and pointedly make your kid get a nonfat drink?  Trust me, it ain't because it's good for them.  It's because LA mom wants her meal ticket to look perfect for her audition for the new Bratz Dollz commercial next week.  Just.  Gross.

Again, there are a lot of wonderful moms who come in, too.  They have lovely, well-behaved children who smile and say "thank you" and are a pleasure to deal with.  But some moms...just, no.  Some of these ladies need to step back and reevaluate what they're contributing to society.  The world doesn't need any more Lindsay Lohans, ok?  Please.

                The sight of this makes small children lose their damn minds.




**PS**  I almost forgot to tell you guys - My boss' son came in second place in the Southwest Barista Competition...and today, made it to the TOP SIX at the Nationals.  To put it like I told BRO today, "It's like a Miss USA pageant.  He was Miss Southwest.  If he wins the national competition, he'll be Miss USA.  And then he'll go on to the world competition, representing the US.  So if he wins that one...I guess he'll be Miss Universe?"  I just think it's neat that I work at this tiny shop, and this dude is so good that he's gone this far in the competition.  My place of employment is turning me into a big coffee nerd, and my boss' son is largely responsible for that.  Good Luck, Nik!!

**PPS**  Celebrity Sightings of The Week!


1.)  Ian Ziering (aka Steve Sanders of the original Beverly Hills 90210):  I know I sort of told you about this one already, but he was just so freaking cool and nice, I thought I'd elaborate.  He and his very pregnant wife came in.  Ordered gelato.  He got a coffee.  We use a pour over system, so we brew every cup individually.  He was giving my coworker such a hard time about it, it was hilarious.  "Don't mess it up, dude.  I could have you fired."  So awesome.  And equally cool?  His hot pregnant wife had the baby only days later.

2.) Justin Bruening and Alexa Havins (former Babe Chandler and Jamie Martin from All My Children):  Only soap fans will know these ones, but they come in all the time and I forget to mention it.  They are the hottest, but sweetest couple ever, and they have probably the cutest baby in LA.  And Justin is the nicest guy.  He'll chat with us all day if he's alone.  So cute.

3.) Jenna Fischer (aka Pam Beesley-Halpert of The Office):  Omg, so exciting.  Especially since I just cried my ass off this week at the Pam-Michael scene on The Office.  She was dressed down, with a friend and her baby.  She was SO nice, and I kissed her ass like it was my job.  Need to use our bathroom?  GO AHEAD!  Fill up your water bottle with ice and filtered water?  GIVE IT HERE.  She asked me to recommend a gelato to her, and I told her that biscotti is one of my faves.  (Yes, I said "faves.")  She immediately ordered it without sampling first and thanked me.  She hung out for a while.  It was awesome.

RAoK

Ok, so this may not be a big deal to some of you, but apparently I have emotional stability problems today, so it almost made me cry.

At work today, our gelato-maker, Allesandro, stopped in with a delivery.  He's a really nice guy- only came to the US from Italy 5 years ago and speaks adorable English.  (For example, he says my name "Bree-knee" and calls our small storage shed out back "the garage.")  I was working with my boss, J, and another dude, A.  When Allesandro got there, we all exchanged pleasantries, and I stayed out on the floor to help customers while the guys put away the gelato order in the back room.  A few minutes later, a customer ordered a panini, so I went in the back to grill it.  The back door was propped open, and I could see my boss sitting in his car and Allesandro kneeling on the ground.  I stared curiously until Allesandro caught me and yelled, "Bree-knee!  I am putting air in your tire!"

I was extremely confused at first, until J waved at me from his car and gestured to the dashboard.  It took me a moment to realize that J was powering some sort of air compression system through his lighter/adaptor, and Allesandro was pumping air into my back tire with it.  I was floored.  I don't know why, but my eyes welled up with tears.

Allesandro, still crouched next to my car, continued shouting;  "Is dangerous, you know!  You are so low, you gonna make a turn and blow it up!"  I felt the need to apologize and explain that while I may have suddenly become responsible in some areas of my life, taking proper care of my car wasn't one of them.  (I was also too embarrassed to admit that coworker A had warned me that my tire was getting low...2 months ago.)  He brushed me off and went back to work.

I stumbled out to coworker A and began to whine.  He was confused.  I said, "I'm not used to this!  I'm not used to people doing nice things for me like this!"  He rolled his eyes and shook his head.  (I was being a bit of a basket case over this seemingly every day situation, if you couldn't tell.)  Now listen, I'm not going to sit here and say no one does anything nice for me.  I think I've told you about my generous mother a time or two.  I'm always very grateful when BRO or BIL take the dogs out an extra time because I don't feel like it.  My aunt sends me care packages filled with candy and money.  And it's great to have a friend buy me a drink once in a while.  But for these two people, my boss and Allesandro, who I barely know, to do this for me?  I didn't know what to say.  This is in absolutely no way meant to be a negative thing, but I cannot imagine one person I know back in Buffalo doing something like that for me.  It's just not something you think about.  So for them to look at my tire and make the conscious decision to take moments away from their work schedules to ensure that I was safe was almost too much for me to handle.  Drama queen, much?

Moments later, I wandered back outside to see that they were now filling ALL of my tires with air.  Ugh.  I thanked them profusely, to the point that it got embarrassing.  It was no big deal for them.  And then Allesandro said, "Bree-knee, we do this for people we care about.  We no want you to get hurt."  UGH!

The moral of the story, kids, is to check your tires for air.  Or maybe it's that little random acts of kindness can go a long way.  Or maybe I need to get more sleep before my morning shifts so that I don't turn into a blubbering idiot when my boss offers to make me a coffee or give me a five minute break.  I don't know.  But today was the first time I felt like I was truly cared about in this city.  And it felt friggin' great.

Pet Peeve of the Week!

The phrase "just sayin'" drives me nuts.  It's a poor man's "no offense, but;" a passive aggressive "just kidding."  People think it's an automatic freebie to be rude to whoever they want with no consequences.  It's one of my newest pet peeves, and ranks right up there with people who send me text messages that read, simply, "K."

Examples of instances where "just sayin'" is not cool:

-"Those pants make your ass look weird.  Just sayin'."
-"I heard that the guy you like might be gay.  Just sayin'."
-"You're being a real bitch right now.  Just sayin'."
-"I mean, I wouldn't sleep with him on the first date.  Just sayin'."
-"You're going to which bar?  I heard that place if full of old dudes.  I mean, I'm just sayin'."

It's just another one of those things that people do that annoy me.  I mean, I have a pretty long list, so I suppose this could just be chalked up to my own heinous bitchery.  My list includes things such as: People who drag their feet when they walk, people who chew with their mouths open, girls who put a question mark at the end of every sentence, and people who dye their dog's hair pink.  Just sayin'.

Celebrity sightings of the week:  4


1. Kat Dennings : But she comes in a lot, so it's no biggie.  (Said like a true jaded asshole.)

2. Zac Efron : Real talk: I was walking outside with my friend, both to say goodbye to her and turn on these little lights we have on the umbrellas at work.  As I stepped out the door, there were 3 guys walking towards us.  I looked up and made eye contact with Zac.  I stopped talking mid sentence.  I'm pretty sure I began to emit small animal noises.  He walked on by.  I sort of collapsed on a patio table.  That was it.

3. Thomas Calabro (aka Michael Mancici from Melrose Place - the original, not the Ashlee Simpson piece of shit) : He was very polite and hasn't aged a day; but he was with some sort of Trophy Girlfriend who was wearing a polo shirt and tennis skirt, and they were both wearing visors.  So the coolness factor dropped a trillion degrees.

4. Kevin McHale (aka Artie from Glee) : I was actually on my break when he came in.  Again, it was a bit startling to see him walking, as disgusting as that sounds.  He looked good, came in with a friend, and actually stayed for a bit.  But I walked to the store while he was there and didn't insist on waiting on him, like I do with every other pseudo celeb that comes in, so that should tell you how exciting the whole thing was.  Jaaaa-ded.

               This is what I think of when I see Kevin McHale.  :(

Social Experiments Are Fun

Tonight, I decided to get off my lazy ass and go to the grocery store to procure more lazy-ass supplies (ie, various cheese snacks, frozen corn, and fruit strips).  At Von's, which is LA's version of Tops, there is only one cashier open after 9pm and no self checkout.  So as I'm standing in line with my random hodgepodge of the things I consider treats these days, I noticed that the girl being rung out couldn't find her Von's card.  Before the words, "I can't find it" were even out of her mouth, the two men on either side of me were ripping pockets open trying to loan her their cards.

Was the girl normal looking?  Of course not.  Clad in the late night LA shopping uniform of black leggings and a oversized, off the shoulder t-shirt, this girl looked like the long lost Kardashian sister.  Maybe she auditioned to play a cousin on their "unscripted" reality show, but was rejected due to the only glaring difference between her and the sisters:  She had a normal sized backside.  Poor thing.  I can only assume that she now spends her nights watching E! and refreshing Khloe Kardashian's Twitter feed.

Nah, I'm sure this girl generally does ok in life.

Anywho, the usual pleasantries were exchanged when a stranger does you a favor, and Kardashian Sister #4 shimmied off into the night.  Moments later, a thought struck me.  Hmm.

I was dressed in "boyfriend" jeans (cute name for jeans you can look like a frumpy asshole in, but it's ok because they're trendy) and a striped shirt - not a total scumbag, but nothing to cause a dramatic spit take.  I had showered today, and still had on (at least half of) the makeup I had applied this morning.  What if I couldn't find MY Von's card?

As the cashier rang up my items and did that inexplicable thing where they put a paper bag INSIDE a plastic one to bag your items (note to baggers and cashiers around the world:  if I ask you for paper, it means I don't want you to use plastic in any capacity), I mumbled that I couldn't locate my card.  I made a small scene where I rifled through my purse, huffing and puffing.  (Editor's note:  I knew where the card was the whole time, for my slower readers.)

The guys around me averted their eyes like I had just begun breast-feeding in front of them.  I continued my ruse for just long enough to almost make it weird, then triumphantly pulled out the card.  Nothing was said, no pockets were half heartedly patted, no wallet was reached for.  It was almost embarrassing for me, if it weren't so embarrassing for the guys.  How sad!

Listen, dear readers - doing little things like this could really give me a complex.  And of course, there was definitely a moment where I thought, "Really, motherfuckers?  This is how it's gonna be?  37 seconds after I WATCHED YOU give KS4 your card, you're going to pretend you have no idea that I exist?  Got it."  But it's so stupid, I really have to just shake my head and laugh.  I mean, maybe it had nothing to do with KS4's tiny waist and my lumpy one.  Maybe the guys prefer long dark hair as opposed to long red hair.  Maybe they thought I had mental problems and they got embarrassed, like when you see a kid in a wheelchair at the mall and you feel bad but you kind of move away at the same time.  Maybe they had used up their daily allotment for kindness.  Or maybe they thought they were on Primetime: What Would You Do? and didn't like what they were wearing, so they didn't speak up for fear of being featured on tv in their jammies.  Whatever.  This is how this damn town works, and it's important to keep perspective.  It's better to find things like this hilarious than to go home and cry into my cottage cheese because two douchers didn't look at me and immediately contemplate rapey situations.

At least I know that my mother raised me right, and I will always over tip, smile at strangers, ask a server how they're doing, make eye contact with the barista at Starbucks, and let people in when stuck in traffic.  And, dear reader, if you ever find yourself at Von's without a card and I am in line behind you, I will always let you borrow mine.  Even if you are a little person.  And little people scare me.

New Leaf

Well, it's been a while.  I've decided recently that I need to stop trying to think of these huge long posts to write once a month and utilize this blog for what a blog is meant for:  Daily writing.  So, from now on, I'm going to try to write something short a few times a week, whether it be about me or celebrities.

Let me begin by clearing up a few misperceptions about my life in Los Angeles.  People always want to know "what's new and exciting."  Well the truth is...nothing, really.  That's not to say that weekly celebrity sightings aren't awesome - they're what I live for.  But really, all I do is work, sleep, and take the dogs out.  You see, LA is expensive (you didn't know?), so to pay my bills, I need to work 6 days a week.  That leaves little time for fun excursions.  My coworker was shocked today to hear that I have yet to visit Santa Barbara.  I felt like saying, "You see me here EVERY DAY.  When did you think I would go - on my 10 minute break?"

But at the same time, just being here is amazing.  I've really fallen in love with it out here...I find that I think about Buffalo less and less.  I miss everyone, but in a different way now.  I'm establishing friendships out here that, while lovely, could never compare with my friends back home.  But it's nice to be able to invite someone over for a movie marathon and not have their answer be, "Yeah, let me just hop on a plane."

So while my life may not be all glamour and opportunity at the moment, I will still try my hardest to keep you updated here about the daily goings-on.  The next time an exciting celeb comes in, I'll make sure to blog about it instead of just a short blurb on Facebook.  That way you all can really live vicariously through me, the glorified ice cream scooper!

I'm also going to touch on interesting celeb stories throughout the week.  So male friends, this may be when you'd like to hit the little red "x" in the corner of your browser window.

1.) Charlie Sheen's Tour:  I haven't blogged about Charlie because SO many people are, I really have nothing more to say.  But I do find it almost sad that the first "show" on his "tour" bombed so badly.  Not sad for him, so much, but just at the situation.  I'm sad for the thousands of people who paid money to see that train wreck.  I'm sad for the people who are working behind the scenes who think they'll be on the road for the next month or so, and will now probably be forced to look for another gig.  And I'm sad for Charlie's kids - but I'm always sad for them.

Above all else, I think it's amazing that people booed the entire show and left early.  "I already got your money, dude!" = One Classy Bitch.

2.) Britney Spears' 2nd (4th?) Comeback:  So Britney released her SEVENTH album this week, and she was all over my tv promoting it.  Seriously, you guys...what is wrong with her?  Isn't she supposed to be better by now?  I mean, I get that she had a breakdown a while back.  But hasn't she been on meds and in therapy and all that?  Why is she STILL so out of it?  And why doesn't she dance anymore?  She just kind of kicks her legs and gyrates her hips.  Oh, and flips her hair.  Lots of hair flipping.  Also, why doesn't she EVER fix her weave when she goes out in public?

(Or wear a bra, apparently.)  I think she's really, really crazy in the head, guys.

3.) Lindsay Lohan to Play Sharon Tate?:  News broke today that the role of the brutally murdered Sharon Tate has been offered to LA's resident denial queen, Lindsay Lohan.  The movie would center on Charles Manson and his "family," including on the infamous murders of a pregnant Tate and her friends.

Beyond the superficial similarities (which include blonde hair and...that's it), I cannot see how this is a good choice.  If I were a surviving member of Tate's family, I would be on every news program that would have me to protest this casting choice.  Lohan doesn't deserve to play someone so innocent.  This may not be an issue come April 22nd, however:  Lindsay faces 3 years in prison for grand theft and probation violation.

4.) Reese Witherspoon Gets Married Again:  Yawn.  But thanks, Reese, for putting my oneandonlylove, Jake Gyllenhaal, back on the market.

Until next time, friends...which will be sooner than 3 months from now, I promise.

---Celebrity sightings this week:


1: Meredith and Lexie Grey's Father (Grey's Anatomy); aka Thatcher Grey
Real Name:  Jeff Perry
Other notable credits:  Lost, My So-Called Life, The West Wing, Wild Things, and Prison Break

A Girl's Gotta Have Goals

2011 is here, and instead of making flimsy resolutions that won't last a week, I've decided to lay out a 5 year plan for myself.  Here's what I envision:

2011:

I will become "shift lead" at my place of employment.  Am admired by coworkers and tons of new friends for achieving this feat.  Will be on a first name basis with all of the high profile celebrities that come in.  Within the first few months of the year, Jake Gyllenhaal and Taylor Swift will come in.  I will mumble a gentle dig at him for dating a girl barely out of her teens and he will duck his head and blush.  I will be gracious to his gal pal, but make confident eye contact with Jake the entire time.  As he leaves, he will slip me a note.  "You're unlike any other girl I've met," it will read.  I will sigh and roll my eyes, going back to my work as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

A week later, Jake will return - alone this time.  We quickly become a couple after he makes it clear that he only dated Taylor for publicity.  I will shake my head knowingly - it will become a running joke between he and I, his love for tweens.

We spend a blissful summer at his walk-up in Manhattan before returning to LA in the fall.  I lament about returning to the drudgery of customer service, and he begs me to let him care for me.  I agree, feigning the appropriate amount of reluctance.  We end the year cozied up in front of a fire in Paris.

2012:


Jake is on location in Italy, filming Prince of Persia 3 (which I have advised him against but hey, it's a paycheck).  I am holed up in a 5 star hotel room, blogging lazily about my new life.  On his lunch break, Jake comes to see me, as he always does.  With him, he brings several award winning screenwriters.  While I have always kept my love of writing to myself (I wouldn't want to outshine my beloved), Jake seems to sense my talent.  He has set up meetings.  Within a half hour, I have 3 outlines.  After a few phone calls, I have an offer from a studio.  I reward Jake with a bowl of Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, fresh from the microwave.  They're his favorite.

2013:


One of my screenplays has been purchased, and two are being fought over by different studios.  I am the most sought after female screenwriter since Diablo Cody.  I've actually heard that she's been talking shit about me, but I don't care.  Jake and I are back in LA, dealing with all of my meetings with various bigwigs.  While my career is flourishing, Jake is in a bit of a rut.  I suggest that he look for more dramatic roles, with costars like Penn, Clooney, and Swank.  He'd prefer another rom-com with Anne Hathaway. This is a point of contention for us, as I've never liked her and find their friendship to be a cover for a secret flirtation.  I make sure to wear my best bra whenever she comes to dinner.

At the end of another glorious summer, Jake finally agrees to do a political drama with George Clooney and Matt Damon.  I am confident that my beau will win the respect of The Academy with this role, although he is reluctant because filming takes place in Dubai and I cannot join him due to my new career.  As he departs for the airport, I assure him once more that he can trust me completely and that I would never cheat on him.  Jake can be a bit needy at times, but I love that about him.

2014:


After Jake's breakthrough role in the Clooney film, we spend the holidays with George, Brad, and Angelina in Italy.  George's Lake Como estate is everything I'd hoped it to be, and we have a marvelous time.  Oddly enough, Angie thinks I am hysterically witty, and we spend most of the evening in stitches over some thing or another.  Her and Brad's children run around us as we lounge, punctuating the comfortable silence with fits of giggles.

Jake seems happy, but as we get ready for bed that night, I notice him brooding.  When I ask him, he confesses that he thinks these people, while lovely, are too old for us.  I bristle.  Are you calling me immature? I ask.  He says that he's not; that he misses our old life, our old friends.  I begin to pace around the luxurious guest room, listing off reasons why this life is a better choice, a better fit.  As my voice gets louder, I don't immediately notice that he's left the room.  When I look up, Angie is standing in the doorway, holding her newborn adopted Chilean daughter, asking me in hushed tones to please keep it down.  I am mortified.

2015:


Jake and I are completely avoiding each other after the Lake Como fiasco.  A few magazines get wind of some sort of "blow up" at Clooney's estate, but it dies down after no one can cite any reliable sources.  My writing career slows down as rumors of my alleged "ball busting" spread.  I manage to lock down a deal for my second screenplay, a fluffy romantic comedy I wrote for Jake to make up for the Clooney film I forced him into that, in the end, did not result in an Academy Award nomination.  But now that Jake isn't returning my calls, the script's future is in jeopardy.  The casting director and I begin frantically looking for a replacement.  Tobey?  Leo?  Ryan?  Other Ryan?  No, there is no one right for this part other than Jake.  As a last resort, I reach out to Anne Hathaway to see if she can get him a message.  When I ring her home number, a man answers sleepily.  Jake.

I pull out of the deal with the studio, citing a conflict of interest.  They don't want to hear my sob story, and demand their payment back.  They have already purchased the rights to my screenplay, you see.  My hands are tied.  I pay them back and book a one way ticket back to Buffalo.

2016:


Back at home, I begin to turn back into my old self.  I mourn the loss of my perfect relationship that I single-handedly sabotaged.  My old friends cannot get over the fact that I stayed at Clooney's house.  I smirk at first, but then remember my pity party and go back to intermittent weeping.  No one really sympathizes, as I have still made quite a bit of money off of the two screenplays I sold.  I decide to go try and work things out in LA.

Once I am back, the cover of US Weekly hits me.  Anne is pregnant.  I don't have to look at the accompanying name to know who the father is.  Jake always wanted kids.  I find myself wandering back towards my old job at the cafe.  As I walk in, I am greeted by familiar smells and welcoming smiles.

A few months later, I have quit the "Hollywood" game and am quietly writing a novel under a pen name.  I am back to work at the cafe - I need to feel normal again.  Right before the holidays, Ryan Gosling walks in with a girl who can't pronounce "espresso" correctly.  I mumble something under my breath to Ryan about there being no "x" in espresso.  Our eyes meet...