Yep ... time for yet another chapter in the melodrama known as "Lisa's Love Life." Have a date with gym boy #2 tonight ... Rob. At first glance, Rob appears to be exactly my type:
1. Owns his own business customizing classic cars (I'm fully dying for a pink 1963 Ford Falcon ... have been FOREVER);
2. Is completely my physical type-very tall, very muscle-y, tattoos, short hair, etc. Sort of a young Henry Rollins type. Love that; and
3. Is a punk rock fan, i.e., if I launch into a discussion of which Social Distortion CD is my fave, he'll know what the hell I'm talking about.
Seems great on paper, right? I'm sure he'll turn on to be a convicted felon. Or somehow related to that creepy Austrian guy who imprisoned his own daughter and forced her to bear his children (how fucked up is THAT, by the way?). We'll see what happens.
In another, unrelated matter, I was just having a conversation yesterday with K.C. re: celebrity look-a-likes. It recently came to my attention that K.C. may resemble Thomas Hayden Church. When I was in law school and just out, I must have had at least 50 people tell me I looked like/had the personality of this girl on "My So-Called Life." The actress' name is A.J. Langer. Seriously ... like people would tell me that everyday. Just a couple of years ago someone brought it up again. So weird. Of course, I started watching the show and I don't really see it. She's totally adorable and all ... great compliment, but I don't get it. Anyway, E and I were just up to a little internet research and discovered that the actress is "5'1" and also has fibromyalgia! Maybe we are related ... twins separated at birth? Not very exciting ... just of interest. I've attached a clip so those who know me can judge for themselves.
Dude … she is the bomb-diggity. (As opposed to my fave song “No Diggity” referenced below or “Hot Diggity” as my darling, yet, hopelessly out-of-touch, K.C. referred to it today). It’s my first night in months with no “Big Brother.” Plus, I’ve been so ill all day … I was really worried that I could be hopelessly depressed tonight. But no; my girl, Paula, once again saved the day.
Tonight is Neil Diamond night on “American Idol.” I LOVE Neil Diamond. He fully rocks my socks. “Forever in Blue Jeans”, “Heartlight”, “Cherry Cherry”, “America”… I mean, how could you NOT love ND? I might even love him more than Barry Manilow. Hmmmm… that’s a tough one. Anyway, I was hoping that I wouldn’t be horribly disappointed.
In a shocking turn of events, the night mainly sucks. Like, right now, I’m listening to the massacre of “I Am, I Said.” Great song. Shitty version by this blonde chick with the weird face. I think this is the same girl who said she’s never watched a R-rated movie. And she’s married. Boy… their sex life must be hot. I can only imagine. Anyway, everyone is singing 2 songs tonight. After the first round, Ryan Gaycrest asks the judges for their opinions. Paula starts critiquing the dreadlock kid about both of his tunes. Unfortunately, he only had sung one song at the time. Everyone is looking around awkwardly like “what the hell is she talking about?” Finally, Gaycrest breaks it to her that the kid only sang one song. Paula: “He did? I thought he sang two … this is so confusing!” I fucking love her. I want a prescription for whatever she’s taking.
This David Archuleta kid is now singing “America” but not even in a really cool, campy way. Like a serious way. The judges love him. I think he’s like a Stepford kid. He weirds me out. I bet he grows up to be a serial killer. That reminds me … besides “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers”, I think I would also like to sing “America” at karaoke. Draped in a giant flag. I can just see myself dramatically gesticulating … “Today! My country ’tis of thee … Today! Sweet land of liberty …” I would kick ass on this song. Must find a way to make this happen. I’m downloading this onto Itunes right now.
O.K., only decent song of the night … “I thank the Lord for the nighttime.” I like this song. ND is one funky Jew.
Just woke up from a loooooong nap. Feel almost like a human being again. Whoo-hoo! Contemplating food that could stay in my stomach. I have a protein shake in my fridge … maybe that will work? I wonder how old said protein shake is … one must always ask these questions when peering through my fridge.
Rob, the giant from the gym, offered to come over with supplies. Awww … Very sweet. Since I’ve been vomiting for nearly 24 hours and my hair looks like it was styled by Amy Winehouse on a bender, I declined. We are having dinner tomorrow night, though. If I can hold down solids, that is. Should be interesting. Of course, Bradley is still calling. I think he returns this weekend. I may need a good hiding place. I don’t think we’re going there again.
Post more later … just wanted to let you know that I’m still alive and will be honored to serve as your blog host for many weeks to come …
That’s me. This could explain my moodiness and general irritability last night. I feel like I could have some kind of food poisoning. E thinks it could be stomach flu. Yuck.
I also received a call last night from Rob, the large man at the gym. Supposed to dine tomorrow. At this point, NOTHING sounds good to me, food-wise. I can only hope that the benefit is that I’m supermodel thin after a few days of this.
as my late grandmother, Dorothy, would say “those are high class problems to have.” Then she would probably give me a lecture about feeding a family of 6 on 5 cents a day during the Great Depression. The good thing about being a moody bastard is that if you don’t like my current mood, just wait a few minutes and it will undoubtedly change.
Listening to one of my fave “bad mood” songs. I have a bunch of them but “No Diggity” is probably my favorite. It’s just impossible to be bummed out when listening to Dre and Blackstreet. Ooh … best part of the song coming up:
Shorty get down, good Lord
Baby got ‘em open all over town
Strickly biz she don’t play around
Cover much grounds
Got game by the pound
Gettin paid is her forte
Each and every day true player way
I can’t get her outta my mind
I think about the girl all the time
East side to the west side
Push your fat rides it’s no surprise
She got tricks in the stash
Stacking up the cash
Fast when it comes to the gas
By no means average
She’s on when she’s got to have it
Baby your a perfect 10, I wanna get in
Can I get down so I can win
What a great fucking song. I’m going to listen to it about 5 more times. Followed by another favorite dark mood tune … “Save it For Later” by the English Beat. Possibly the happiest music ever composed.
Just the way I feel tonight. Drained. I don’t know why. Had a great time with Kimmy and Molly. With all my friends this weekend. I think somewhere along the way, I picked up this idea that I need to entertain people all the time to be of any value. I guess I usually don’t mind. I like being funny and telling stories. Tonight I feel exhausted. Somehow, I feel like I’m “on” 24/7. I wish I had an “off” switch. I’m not sure who I am if I switch “off.” I’m afraid that others won’t like me. I’m afraid that I won’t like me. This is an ongoing theme with me, as of late. I guess I just always thought that at 36, I’d have my shit more together. At the very least, I’d have an identity. Sometimes, I wish I could just disappear. Go to some faraway locale where no one knows me. No one has any expectations of me. Just live a quiet life. And then I think to myself “I’d never be happy with that life in a million years.” It’s true, though. If I went to some small island nation to relax, I’d guarantee that I’d be dictator in about 9 months. Possibly be at war with another small island nation. I was going to apologize for writing such a navel gazing, self-indulgent post and then I realized, “hey … this is my blog. I can write whatever the fuck I want.” So I’m not apologizing. I’m giving you a glimpse of the girl behind the mask. Enjoy it while you can.
I totally have one. That’s probably why I will go to hell, in the end. Actually, I think there are a myriad of reasons I may wind up roasting marshmallows in the afterworld … this is just one. I do not know what is wrong with me. I’m not like “pulling the wings off a butterfly” cruel … more like “poking someone until they cry” mean.
So … many months ago, my friends Alex, Jenny, Callie and I were having a fine time at Daddy’s in L.A., which sadly, no longer exists. I’m not sure if this is the night where we were hit on by a guy who looked like an Indian version of the ugliest vampire from “Lost Boys” … possibly. Anyway, there were these guys handing out CDs … only to certain girls. Like “hey babe … I’m in a band, listen to my demo” kind of vibe. The band has an unusual name, which I will not repeat here. I’m not THAT cruel. Anyway, we went on to their website and started sending them all this “fan” email about how much we loved their band, etc., etc. I believe I asked if I could get backstage passes … in a shocking turn of events, I was told that they didn’t really “have” backstage passes. I guess there is no backstage when you’re playing at someone’s barbecue. In any event, they also have their crap poetry on their website. Here is a great example:
idahow idahow
ida,how da fuck yo end up in idaho?
idahow idahow
Sheer brilliance, really. Wow. It’s like Lord Byron was reincarnated.
Anyway, they were so pathetically grateful that we “loved” their band that I finally felt bad and had to stop my email campaign. I just found out that they are playing down here this month … I feel drawn to go to have more material but I think it’s too mean. Even Lisa has a heart sometimes. Lisa also likes to talk about herself in the third person. Lisa is Deion Sanders.
Big Brother ended last night. I feel like someone I really loved and adored broke up with me. The googly-eyed guy with too much saliva won. No Big Brother until July. I am not sure what I will do. That was my entertainment 3 nights a week!!!!!! Now what? I’m just at loose ends. Floating in a universe of uncertainty. I think I have now become an existentialist. My life has no meaning without Big Brother. I did get to see the bikini barista last night on the finale but really, I won’t be happy until Team Christ has their own show. I would be happy to represent them and pitch the idea.
sorry … been a little slow with the blogging lately. Three good reasons:
1. My friend, Kimmy Kim and baby Molly are in town;
2. It’s Africa-hot in L.A. which makes it too hot to do ANYTHING. I do mean anything. If Colin Farrell came by right now, he’d be SOL (that means shit out of luck for those who don’t speak “Lisa”). I want to lounge on a chaise and have young cabana boys fanning me;
3. I feel sort of craptastic. Just gross and nauseated. No idea of why. I can almost 100% guarantee that I’m not pregnant. There may have been a little indiscretion a few weeks ago but … that’s it.
Kimmy and I have been having a delightful weekend in spite of the fact that Kim and Molly are VERY fair and do not do well in the heat. Poor things. After braving it out at my place, they decided to stay at a nice, air-conditioned hotel with a pool. I cannot blame them at all.
Hmmmmm … what else do I have to report? I’m planning to go buy a new car this weekend which could send me into a fit. The last time I purchased a vehicle, I spent 7 hours at the dealership. There was a lot of fist-pounding and raised voices. All from me, of course. Not a good time. My father offered to fly in and go with me so the salesmen would “take me seriously.” The sad thing is, they probably won’t try to fuck me over as much if there’s a guy with me. Even though I’m an attorney/agent. All I do is negotiate. Fuckers. I think I have everyone today. I’m having one of those days. Nothing is going to make me happy at the moment.
Btw, we have another possible impending date with yet another gym guy. “Rob.” Big dude. Like “6′3″ or “6′4″ is my estimate. At least a foot taller than me. Big muscles. Short hair–linebackerish looking. Soooo my type. Mmmmmm … we like big muscles. Maybe focusing on Rob and the muscles will ease my irritation. Updates to come.
I’ll try to find you, left of the dial.” Yep. More Replacements. Probably one of my top 10 favorite songs of all time. Always really identified with this song. Probably because I AM left of the dial. So … I dedicate this song to all of you out there who are also a little “left of the dial”… full of confusion, contradiction, love, longing, heartbreak, anger, poetry, music and beauty. May we all stay that way forever. Wouldn’t life be boring without us? Not the greatest version of this song above, but it’s still the ‘Mats so you have to love it… love to everyone tonight. No, I’m not drunk or drugged… just feeling complicated tonight and oddly happy about it.
Very sweet. Since I’ve been vomiting for nearly 24 hours and my hair looks like it was styled by Amy Winehouse on a bender, I declined. We are having dinner tomorrow night, though. If I can hold down solids, that is. Should be interesting. Of course, Bradley is still calling. I think he returns this weekend. I may need a good hiding place. I don’t think we’re going there again. 
