The One About the One-Legged Prostitute

For the next week, I'm going to be doing some traveling for work. I'm in Los Angeles now and then early Saturday morning I'm headed to Chicago. Because the weather has been so frigid in Boston lately (Nine degrees on Monday!), I decided to stay at the beach during my time here.
Now, I know Venice Beach has its "reputation" as being a place for the down and out or characters, as they're sometimes called, but throwing caution to the wind and trusting the pictures I saw online, I booked a room, eagerly anticipating the sound of waves and the salty air.
Typically when I travel, I like to book at mom-and-pop hotels because you're supporting a local business and there's usually a little more attention paid to the customer. I may never do that again after what happened today.
I park my rental car, and start walking to the hotel, I notice a few of the Venice characters roaming about: the woman wearing rollerblades laying in the middle of the street (sidenote: dead? maybe?), the man with the biggest dreadlocks I've ever seen in my whole life, the young couple sitting in a shopping cart together, etc. Then, I round the corner and see my hotel.
Outside, there are more characters, including a woman on crutches with one leg, wearing a see-through shirt, and her friend, who looks very possessive of her, ifyouknowwhatImean. I keep my head down and walk into the lobby, which is in shambles. Continuing with my "benefit of the doubt" attitude, I start the check-in process. The young lady and the gentleman come inside and push the elevator button, and the woman behind the desk says they're not allowed to enter the building anymore.
She says, "You are not guests here; you need to leave. There's been reports of thefts. We know what you're doing up there."
The woman is very obviously intoxicated (and, uh, also missing a leg), and tries to grab the counter and misses. She falls backwards and SLAMS her head into the wall. I'm standing there speechless, with my eyes bulging and my hand over my mouth in horror.
The guy helps her up and tries to move her to the lobby couch, and the woman behind the desk says, "You still need to leave. Get out of here."
Now, THIS is the point where most people would leave. I chose to view it as an isolated incident, and said, "Room 310, you say? And, how do I get wireless Internet again?"
I go up to my room, and it's disgusting. It's incredibly hot with no air conditioner (usually not a problem at the beach, but I LOVE sleeping in a cold hotel room), the toiletries had been used and my pillow case had black scuff marks all over it.
On the verge of tears, I sit on the bed searching online for a new hotel and feel so bad for having to go downstairs and tell the woman at the front desk that I'm unhappy. I really hate complaining, but I think a one-legged prostitutes, dirty sheets and used soap are legitimate reasons to now be typing this from a cushy Sheraton that serves Starbucks coffee in the rooms.

Keeping It Real

I may have the grown-ass job of a 28-year-old, where they send me around the U.S. making business decisions and throwing down plastic at client dinners, but I still have the expense report of a 6-year-old left to their own devices with their allowance:

Yes, I NEEDED that cheesewedge magnet and animal crackers.

Isla Nublar

Look at that baby hand! Have you ever seen something so disturbing? I look like that creepy sister from the Lawrence Welk show parody on SNL.

That picture is from my recent trip to Costa Rica, and had it been time-stamped, you would know that I was drinking a beer at 11 am. During the trip, that would be considered a "late start" for boozing. Our first day there, we were drunk by 10 am, and swimming up to a bar by 11 am for more tropical drinks. The trip was amazing and exactly what I needed.

I've never considered myself the beach vacation type, but this trip has changed my mind. The people there was incredibly friendly, the beer was delicious (and cheap!), I had SO many opportunities to talk about Jurassic Park and we saw a ton of wildlife. This little guy was eating a lizard up in the trees, and decided to throw the intestines of said lizard down at the tourists below. Cheeky!These guys were running all over our resort. They were running even faster when one of my friends decided to start chasing them.
There was some surprising wildlife there, too, like the deer we saw, or these rabid, daytime raccoons above. I stupidly thought animals like deer or raccoon are exclusive to North America, or a similar climate. We also saw a raccoon at our resort, too - through the peephole in our hotel room's door. We heard a loud crash outside our door, and one these menacing-looking bandits was going through someone's room service tray across the hall from us. We called the front desk to alert them of the creature, and no one came up to investigate for HOURS. While we were being held captive, we just decided to play "Colones" - a came of quarters using the local currency.

I definitely have a travel bug now, and can't wait to play games called "Euros", "Pounds" and "Yen" hopefully in the near future.

Southern Hospitality

My boss and I went on a business trip to Nashville, TN and Greenville, SC together last week. We were both dreading it because we were going to be working with some sales reps who sell into Christian retailers. Our dreads came from two different places: I know nothing about religion and my boss is gay. Just to set up who we're dealing with, there is a book we sold that features animals and they said their stores didn't like it because it looked like the animals were having sex, but at least they appeared to be male and female and it wasn't interspecies! Oof.

Also, another book we sent to stores featured a picture of Jesus on the toilet with the words "Holy Crap!" above him. (editors note: oops!) I didn't know how to NOT laugh, or not say "crap" so in my scrambling I promised to never again show them a book that has the Lord "making a two". They all laughed at - not with - me. Oh, and our presentation was recorded, so they'll have that for eternity (which they believe in, incidentally).

Anyway, to take the edge off, my boss and I ate approximately 80 pounds of food over two days, and stayed (in separate rooms!) at a bed & breakfast in Greenville that was - well - below are some pictures. During breakfast (pudding-stuffed french toast with bananas), my boss and I were joking that we looked like newlyweds with the others around us saying, "That poor girl is in for a BIG surprise when she realizes her husband is gay!" and "Why are her pants so baggy and his so tight??"My room was "Out of Africa" themed, my boss got Chantilly French (all pink!).Imagine waking up to this in the middle of the night. Her eyes were blacked out like that Bone Thugs 'N Harmony video. There were all these adorable little gnomes around the outside of the house. David the Gnome was one of my favorite shows growing up, so I had to pay my respects.The woman who runs the B&B saw us taking goofy pictures all around the property (86 pictures, to be exact!), and made us pose for this one. We'll call it, "Divorce. Reason cited: fraud". What a cute, confused married couple. That woman was so nutty. When we got there the night before, she told us it was her first night away from her newborn kid, and she had a glass of wine. She said it was hitting her a lot harder than she thought it would, and she kept giggling all crazily when she was checking us in. Ok, now for the food: Ice cream in Nashville.PUDDING-STUFFED French toast at the B&B. Don't worry, I asked them to print out the recipe if anyone wants it.And, Catwater, this is for you. And, this ... this "All-Star Special" was for me!I've never felt like more of an all-star in my life.

Is That a Baby in Your Uterus, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

I have been traveling pretty steadily in the last few weeks for my job, with the longest stint being in Atlanta for just under a week, a Wednesday through Sunday. The Sunday I left, I was actually only going to be home for a few hours with a car service picking me up at 2:30 am the next day, Monday, to head to Dallas. Actually, the car service never showed up and I had to beg a random cab driver at 3:00 am to "step on it" to Newark Airport and I'd tip big (read: show him my boobs for five minutes in a ROW).
So with little sleep, a lot of taking off and landing in the past week, a week before my "moon cycle" and no pooping for a long time, I actually made my flight. Honestly, what's with not being able to number 2 unless I'm at home? Gross, right? Anyway, please picture an atypically larger-than-normal bloated me. If you've never met me, just take whatever mental picture you already have (no doubt this) and add some weight below the belly button.
I arrive at my meeting in Dallas and am greeting the sales reps I haven't seen for a year, and one of them says, "Let me be the first to say 'Congratulations'". Well, I figured she was referring to the recent announcement of the added responsibilities for my job - not a promotion. Don't worry, guys, I'll just do two people's jobs for the price of one. Anyway, I was all ready with my modest response when she cuts me off by asking when I'm due.
When I'm tired, I'm emotional. When I'm NOT a pregnant woman, I'm emotional. I'm a sensitive girl. So, after telling this "sales rep" - if that's really her name - that you're NEVER supposed to ask a girl if she's pregnant unless they say something first; I spent the rest of the meeting trying not to cry. Being pregnant sounds awesome, but being constipated and mistaken for pregnant is the OPPOSITE of awesome.
So, please, don't EVER ask a girl this - EVER. I've since de-bloated and feel amazing with all the running I've been doing, and am very thankful that my self confidence has finally showed up after 27 years of being absentee. Otherwise, I would have developed a major complex over this. That woman's still a bitch, though.

Phoeni-X Files

For the last few days, I've been in Phoenix, Arizona for work. My parents flew out from Los Angeles and stayed with me in my (never going to be big enough) hotel room. I can safely say I will never move there, but the scenery was beautiful. The weather was really hot, about 98 degrees, but at least it was dry heat. Here are some scenic shots from a day trip to Sedona, Arizona:
Here is the best part, besides, of course, seeing my family. In Sedona, there are a LOT of psychics and vortexes (vortices?). According to fact (read: Google), the vortexes in Sedona are not created from wind or water, but spiraling spiritual energy. My source says, "It is not easily explained ... it must be experienced." Well, go no further than Ye Olde UFO Store. Apparel:

"What's Probed in Sedona, Stays in Sedona."

Oh, hi.

Wheelz.

Anticlimactic Car Accident Post

This weekend I went to Newburyport, Mass. where my aunt, uncle and grammie live. If you live in the Northeast you know how beautiful the weather was this weekend; if you don’t live in the Northeast, well, the weather was beautiful.
On Saturday, my aunt, brother, grammie and I went to Salisbury Beach to sit outside for a little while and bask in the sun and watch boats putter about where the Merrimack River meets the Atlantic Ocean. On the drive back from the beach to my aunt and uncle’s house, we were rear-ended pretty hard. My grandmother was wearing a pink Boston Red Sox hat that flew off her head and I screamed loudly because I do not deal well with surprises – like, not even a little bit. I’ve had freak-outs so bad that I’ve needed to be slapped.
Thankfully, we were only going about 15 miles per hour, at most, and everyone is ok for the most part. The girl who hit us accidentally accelerated when she was trying to break in order to tend to her toddler son in the backseat. That was her first mistake. Her second was not driving with a license. Her third was not having up-to-date insurance, and her last mistake was being British (U-S-A! U-S-A!).
We called the cops to make it all official, and really, there’s not much to this story except I definitely have a sore neck and was a little shaken up. So, feel sorry for me, ok?

We Want You!

Today is my first day back in the office after many days of traveling to Atlanta, Dallas and finally, Chicago. I came back to work today (two hours late, whoops!) with a full voicemail box. One of the messages was from a recruiter in the "Chicagoland area" who wanted to talk to me about a Vice President of Sales position she is looking to "network".
This is the first recruiter call I've received, but man, they clearly don't know who they're leaving messages for. Yes, my title at work includes the word, "manager" in it, but it is preceded by "assistant". No, "to the" is not in between "assistant" and "manager" either.
Having just been in Chicago while it was negative 8 degrees and I had a hole in my boot; I'm not itching to move there. Nonetheless, I was flattered.

How to Make Friends on Transportation: A User's Guide

Around this time last year, I was taking the subway back home from work and saw a guy my age sitting down with a giant tin of popcorn on his lap. I searched his face, and couldn't understand why he looked so familiar. Finally, I remembered where I had met him before.
Months prior, a friend of mine and I were taking the train back out to Astoria after seeing some other friends of mine play at a club in Manhattan. Sitting across from us were an incredibly drunk guy and his seemingly sober friend who was trying to wrangle said drunk. The drunk guy kept falling over wanting to lay across the subway bench. The poor woman sitting next to him was less than pleased. My friend and I weren't hiding our amusement very well when he tried to make phone calls underground - we started cracking up.
I thought this was so funny that I not-so-stealthily started taking pictures with my cell phone camera: We started talking to the sober friend to find out how his friend had gotten that way (bachelor party), where they were headed (the same stop as me) and was his friend going to be ok (no, they had to get off the train at Times Square because his friend was going to puke any second). As the train pulled away and we watched our new drunk friend vomit everywhere, I thought that would be the last time we'd see each other. That December night when we were reunited on the subway, we got to talking and now, we see each other about once a month for drinks (within moderation and not on a subway).
***
This summer, I was flying home to Los Angeles from New York for a friend's wedding. As I wrote about before, I had a stopover in Cincinnati. On that flight, I mentioned I met an actor - and former Blue Man Group performer - who seemed incredibly nice and upbeat. Hoping to set him up with my equally nice and upbeat roommate, I gave him my business card, never really expecting to hear from him again.
Three months later (!) I got an e-mail from him saying he found my business card in his wallet and he wanted to know how I was doing (which completely reminds me of this). We're trying to find a time to hang out, where I can continue to give him a hard time - as I did on the plane - about him only have Tool, Dr. Wayne Dyer and one Bjork song loaded on his iPod.
So, to make friends while traveling is an easy 3-step program:

1) Find yourself in a strange situation, be it with a drunk person underground, or tens of thousands of feet above ground sitting next to an actor with a terrible iPod

2) Utilize your ability to laugh at other people's expenses

3) Wait a few months for the universe to magically reunite you and make plans to build a friendship

Can't Spell Drug Bust Without B-U-S

This weekend I went to Philadelphia to spend some time with my brother and sister. We didn't do much, but it was still good to be in the same room with both siblings.
On Sunday afternoon, my return trip to New York was relatively uneventful, until we exited off the New Jersey Turnpike an exit sooner than we should have. The bus slowed down and someone wearing a backpack jumped off in a very seedy looking part of Jersey City (note: Does Jersey City have any non-seedy parts?). A lot of people on the bus were confused by this, gaping out the window as the gentleman jogged away.
I wasn't as shocked as my traveling companions because this same thing happened on another bus I took a year ago. At the time, I was on a bus traveling towards Philadelphia to see my brother. The driver exited the New Jersey Turnpike and was taking a more rural route - a short-cut, I thought. Until, the bus slowed down to about 5 m.p.h. and a guy jumped out of the bus and ran off towards a gas station.
I honestly don't mind being an accessory to whatever crime there is for passengers wearing backpacks and running into the jungle of Dirty Jersey. I pay $10 for a ride that keeps me on my toes, I get to hear loads of new curse words in Chinese and get a little adrenal pumping. Plus, I've always felt prepared for a hard-knock bus ride. After all, in eighth grade, I owned the Dangerous Minds soundtrack on cassette (which my mom took away from me) and I watch The Wire (not very courageously as evidenced last night by me gasping so loudly at a shooting that my sister, in the other room, burst through my door to make sure I wasn't dying in my sleep).
I just wonder how I can get a little more involved in this operation; I think I'd be the least suspicious-looking drug mule around: Cardigans? Check. Loafers with tassels? Check. Mopey indie rock on iPod? Check. Where do I sign up?

Shake Shack

I'm a-scared to go home Thursday.

Los Angeles just had a 5.4 earthquake and I HATE earthquakes. I was in the Northridge Earthquake in 1994 and was traumatized for months afterward. You know when someone freaks out and all you want to do is slap them and scream, "Get a hold of yourself"? I was the one who needed the beating and my mother was the punisher. I wanted to sleep in the living room with my whole family afterwards, my leg would twitch outside of my control and eventually we ended up moving away from Southern California (only to return two years later).

The strange thing was, the night before the quake I had one of the greatest nights of my then 11-year-old life. It was a three-day weekend so I was sleeping over at my neighbor and closest friend's house. We stayed up really late choreographing and filming a dance to Rod Stewart, Bryan Adams and Sting's "All for Love" from the "Three Musketeers" and then we watched movies (most likely our favorites, The Burbs and Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and ate junk food. I performed Rod Stewart's part, by the way.

At 4:31 a.m. I was woken up by the sound of a loud bang, the ground shaking violently and the windows rattling. Shortly thereafter, my friend and I were being pelted by books flying off the shelves in their living room. After it was over, I remember screaming my friend's mother's name over and over again in total agony. Thankfully, my house was just down the street and my family came to get me (and slap me). We slept in our Aerostart that night, right after I peed all over myself that is. For a few days we survived on a strict diet of Pop Tarts and Sunny Delight while sitting outside and riding the aftershocks.

The last time I felt an earthquake was in 2003 when I was home for Christmas, and that was enough to stop my heart. I just really hope when I'm home (planning on having a few more 'greatest nights ever' hopefully involving Rod Stewart) there will be no earthquakes to speak of.

The 404

"I just got back from Atlanta ... that town is WHACKED." - Todd Packer

I'm a third of the way through my marathon of traveling. This past weekend I was in Atlanta working at the America's Mart during the busiest gift show of the year. It was a really tiring experience full of old ladies buying tons of crap for their stores, speaking in very thick Southern accents and wearing Tammy Faye Baker-esque amounts of mascara.

Before I traveled I had asked a few Southerners I know where I should go or what I should do after work wrapped up every day around 6:30 pm. Thursday I was so exhausted, this is what I did:

I was staying at the Ritz-Carlton, which was a really strange experience. The only other time I had been in that hotel was when I was younger and had to pee really bad. I still remember how weird I thought it was that they had cloth towels in the bathroom instead of paper. While I was checking in with the concierge they asked me if I needed help with my bag up to my room, I said "no thank you." As I went to grab for my bag, a man had already come over to grab it. I said, "oh, thank you, sir, but I've got it." He said, "Miss, I'm just turning it around for you." I'm not cut out for this, despite being fancy with my penthouse parties.

Friday, I made it out to the Georgia Aquarium, which was really impressive. It only took about an hour to walk through, and they had a jazz band playing there, too. I touched a shark and a sting ray, and the tanks were full of all sorts of fish, and even followed along the ceiling:


Saturday I got supper at Ted Turner's restaurant with someone from another publishing house, and I tried bison for the first time. We sat right next to the kitchen and a hot onion ring fell on my thigh; the waitstaff quickly apologized and then put the onion ring right back into the serving tray for someone to enjoy. Later on Saturday night, I did something I'd never done before: went to a bar by myself. Now that I'm a "business executive" I wanted to try it out, and it was pretty boring. I did watch an elderly couple cut a rug on the dance floor and the very flamboyant bartender gave me some "cheese nubblies - they're good for you!"

After working a few hours on Sunday, I went to the airport to get an earlier flight. I got one, thank goodness, but then the heaven's opened up and a big thunderstorm hit. My flight got delayed to the original time I had booked. Charlie Brown. Today I'm so tired and I look it. I went into work late and my boss said, "WOW, you look exhausted." I worked a total of an hour and then went out to sushi with a buddy of mine.

Overall it was a good trip. I met some fun people, slept in an amazing bed, stole tons of toiletries and even met a cab driver whose family lives on a street very close to my childhood home outside Los Angeles.

Tomorrow it's off to Chicago for a day, and then to Los Angeles for the rest of the week and weekend. Los Angeles should be interesting given the state of the family right now.

Pooped

Being at work after a one-day trip to Atlanta that began at 4 a.m. and ended at 11 p.m. is not the best thing that could happen to me. However, going home tonight to my first three discs with Netflix is the best thing that could happen to me. I got There Will Be Blood, Persepolis and I'm being reunited with The Wire.

DC recap

"Hey, just like in Forrest Gump!"

I heard this a few times in Washington, DC whilst visiting my brother last weekend. The first time was on the double-decker tour bus. A father - who insisted on speaking over the trivia announcements - was explaining to his daughter what is the significance of the reflecting pool at the base of the Washington Monument. I also heard a lot of references to the movie when my brother and I were walking from the reflecting pool to the Lincoln Memorial. "Jenny! Jenny!"

Another moment of patriotic ignorance happened when we were driving through embassy row in said bus. We passed nations from Africa, South America, Iraq's embassy which has since been shut down (someone remarked, "Uh, duh, I wonder WHY!?") and Asian embassies. While we were passing South Korea someone in the bus said, in a very thick Southern accent, "That there is CHI-nese." Yikes.

Despite these instances, the trip was really fun. I got to DC later than expected. My brother picked me up and we headed back to Sliver Springs, MD. My brother is subletting a room in a great house in a neighborhood that has lots of Ethiopian restaurants (we ate at one on Saturday night, and it was delicious) and a cute downtown strip.

His roommates were very nice and responded well to the cupcakes I brought for them from Buttercup Bakery. My favorite roommate was Penelope the hound. This dog is the friendliest I've ever met, other than my old puppy Summer. Penelope wags her tail, smiles and needs lots of attention and affection. If your hand stops scratching her back for a few seconds she rests her snout on your thigh and just sighs until you start up again. This pup is the canine equivalent of my neediness in the affection department.

Saturday morning we got up early and headed back into the city and saw SO much: Lincoln Memorial, Vietnam Memorial, The Mall, Georgetown, Smithsonian Air and Space and Natural History (dinos!), White House, The Capitol Building, Washington Monument, Arlington Cemetery, we at lunch at the National Gallery and walked through a Texas/Bhundi festival. Saturday night we got Ethiopian Food went to see Wall-E, which I really, really liked.

It was a really great trip and I love hanging out with my brother. We got very lucky in the family lottery.

Here are some photo highlights:
Mastadon at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum


The National Cathedral where MLK, Jr. gave his last Sunday sermon, and where there is a sculpture of Darth Vader.


The great emanicipator:


Even pirates (or Piratz, according to the name of the restaurant) need a break:


People soaked their feet in fountains all over the city. It was such a hot weekend, my brother and I put our feet in the fountain near the National Gallery and WWII Memorial fountain - my grandfather would be so proud he served to cool his grandkids' feet.

W a-s-h i-n-g t-o-n, baby, D.C.!

I'm off to DC this weekend to see my bearded big brother. He's living down there for a few months to do research for his dissertation.

I've never been to that city before so I'm really excited to walk around in the near 100 degree humidity it has to offer. I'm anticipating some swamp-like conditions, and I don't think brother has air conditioning either. But, he does have two roommates who apparently have a strict "No Shirt" policy enforced in their house.

To get down there I'm taking the Bolt Bus. My brother kept telling me it's such a steal, you can get fares for a dollar! I think he was living in a lands of a freaky, freaky dream. Forty-three dollars later, I will be zooming south in the lap of luxury and free wi-fi.

Our plan is to take a bus tour around the city, and hopefully we'll be able to stop into the Smithsonian or the Spy Museum at some point.

This weekend kicks off a few REALLY busy weeks of travel: July 7, business day trip to Atlanta; July 11-13 weekend business trip to Atlanta; July 15-16 business trip to Chicago; July 30-August 4, home to Los Angeles for a few days and then down to San Diego for good buddy's wedding. Phew.