Ugh. Worst. Day. Ever.

I don’t even want to go into it.  Suffice it to say that I have officially hit rock bottom.  At least, financially.  I’m ready to do anything to earn a living at this point.  Sell drugs.  Sell my body.  Suck the giant cock of conformity … whatever.  I think I’m about to be evicted.  Seriously.  Can’t. Even. Discuss.  I think that I may be the least successful person in all of humanity.

What in the Blue Blazes is Going On????????????????

Geez Louise.  On the plus side, it looks like my life may FINALLY be taking a turn for the better.  On the not necessarily “minus” side but just the “weird side”, I have a lot of bizarre events all converging this week.

For the good news first … I have an interview tomorrow.  For a full-time lawyer gig which I always SAID I really wasn’t interested in doing.  However, I had a shitload of experience with the particular area of law involved and it’s really easy.  Good billing, lots of travel (which is great for my sports biz), and the hiring partner and I actually had a mutual connection.  The firm is a Texas firm and they have an office in Northern California, JUST in case I thought about moving back there.  I know this is a totally odd thing to say but … I totally think they will offer me the job.  Could be wrong … often am …. just have that feeling.  We’ll see.

Now for the weirdness … in the past 24 hours I have had not one, but 2 separate former clients of mine confess their “feelings” for me.  Out of the fucking blue.  One is a guy who I never stopped talking to.  Even after he stopped playing, we’ve always been buddies.  He’s a totally funny dude.  The other guy is someone I literally haven’t spoken to in about 2 1/2 years.  While he was playing, I always had the feeling that he might have a little crushie crush on me but he has never been anything but a gentleman.  Well … we just got back in touch (through fucking Facebook, of course) and it turns out that he’s now a college coach.  And one of his coach-ees is a client we are advising for the draft next year.  Anyway, we have been texting and last night, we had a 2 hour conversation wherein he basically admitted all these “feelings” has has for me.  And has had, apparently, for quite a while.  Anyway, his team comes out here in Feb. to play USC.  Conveniently the visiting player hotel is literally right across the street from me.  I have sort of weird feelings of inpropriety with this situation but since: (1) he’s no longer my client and (2) he’s no longer my client, I guess I can just see where this goes… very weird.

My other friend is just going through a rough patch with his gf, I think.  But, I was telling him the story about the first guy, “G” and he lets loose with “you know I’ve always had a crush on you, too.”  WHAT?????????????????????????  Ummm …. no, I didn’t know that.  P:  “Do you think I spend that much time talking to everyone on the phone?”  Me:  “I thought you were just a chatty guy.”

I have NO idea of what suddenly happened.  I have been in the worst dry spell for MONTHS (not including FB who is also trying to come back into the picture but that’s for another time and post) and now it’s raining ex-athletes all over the fucking place.

Halloween Approaches and My Life Gets Weirder and Weirder

Yet another beau from my not-so-recent past has popped up again.  This one is truly strange.  Stranger than usual.  To really help you understand how odd, I must give you the whole story.

A few years ago, my dear friend TawNeE/Ashley/Shelden (college friend, thus, all the nicknames) came out to visit me from Boston.  She also was out here to see her then-boyfriend whose band booked a gig at the Whiskey.  On a Wednesday night.  At midnight.  Obviously, a very coveted position, so you can imagine what a fantastic band they were indeed.  TawNeE, in spite of being the preppiest person in the entire world, also harbors a not-so-secret love of all things heavy metal.  Her bf’s band was a step away from being a Led Zeppelin cover band, in my opinion.

Anyway, TawNeE was out here for days before the show, as was the bf.  She doesn’t hear from the bf the entire time she’s in L.A.  Which we both take as sort of a bad sign.  When we arrive at the venue, we learn that we aren’t on any sort of list so we each have to pay $10 to hear this crappy band.  (My response:  “you’re fucking this guy and we can’t even get on the pass list to see this band?????)  Anyway, T, my friend, Susan and I all go in where Susan and I proceed to get shockingly drunk as there are about 10 people at the Whiskey and there doesn’t appear to be much else to do.  We meet Johnny, T’s bf, who immediately tells me that I don’t look like the picture of me that he saw because “my boobs looked bigger” in the picture.  This is the bf’s first meeting with one of his gf’s best friends.  He then proceeded to grab my shirt and pull it tighter in an attempt to examine my chest more closely. 

T is not really paying attention as she has spotted a girl in the crowd who appears to be Johnny’s ex-gf.  Sure enough, Johnny and T go off to the bar to have a chat.  T comes back looking stunned and holding a bunch of DVDs.  She states “Johnny just broke up with me.  He’s back together with his ex-gf.”  Me:  “What are you  holding in your hand?”  T: “Oh, he gave me these DVDs of his band.”  Me:  “He broke up with you at his fucking concert that we had to PAY to get in to and then gave you promotional materials as a consolation prize?????????”  T:  “I think I need to go into the bathroom now.” 

While T is in the bathroom getting herself together, Susan takes off to go have a chat with the ex and now current gf to see if there’s anyway to turn her against Johnny.  I take off after Johnny himself where we had a conversation that went along the following lines:

Me:  “Did you just break up with my friend?  After she flew across country to see you?  That’s a pussy move.”

Johnny:  “You don’t understand our relationship.”

Me:  “Maybe not but I understand that you’re a dick.”

After T, Susan, myself and the ex/current gf have a conversation where we discover dear Johnny has been two-timing both my friend and the ex and encouraging her to confront him immediately, we take off for a bar so T can drown her sorrows.

Now, we get to the part involving the weird guy from my past.  At the bar we wind up at, I meet this guy at the bar from New Orleans, Andre.  Seems super cool, around 40, very cute, charming, etc.  We start talking and have this amazing connection.  A very weird connection like we had known each other forever.  Andre owns this restaurant down the street and the whole group of his friends and mine go over there and open it up so we can continue hanging out.  I have to admit … I was a pretty shitty friend to poor T.  Which I have apologized for numerous times.  It was incredibly bad timing.  T gets dumped and I meet this super fun, interesting guy on the same night.  As T stated:  “I swear to fucking God, if you meet your future husband tonight, I’m going to kill myself.”  Anyway, Andre and I wind up drinking/making out/talking etc. all night.  During which time he tries to convince me to drive to Vegas with him in the middle of the night so we can get married.  Even in my very drunken state, I realized that this did not appear to be the best idea ever.  But he tried, numerous times.  Finally, I have to take T home so we leave.  After that, I do hear from Andre a few times but, for whatever reason, we never end up getting together.  And that was it.  End of story.  So it’s probably a good thing we didn’t go to Vegas for the wedding.   But … I can’t deny that we had some super crazy chemistry going on.  Super crazy.  Like we had known each other forever.  Very weird.

O.K., this all occurred at least 5 years ago.  Out of the blue, I get an email from Andre.  Seriously.  He emailed me, not through the evil Facebook, but through Linkedin, which is like a work networking site.  So fucking random.  And I guess he’s now living in Portland.  How totally fucking bizarre is that?  I never get rid of anyone I date.  My therapist, Dr. Sue Harris, says she always finds it entertaining that I have abandonment issues since it doesn’t appear that anyone ever really leaves me … they’re always circling around waiting to get back in.  I’ll keep you updated on what our friend Andre has to say …

“We could pop bottles all night and baby, you could have whatever you like … “-TI

Dude … I’ve been listening to this TI CD all weekend, “Paper Trail” … it’s brills.  Super super brills with whipped cream on top.  Even if you think you don’t like rap, you should purchase.  It’s very lyrical and melodic, especially the song with Rihanna “Live Your Life” that I can’t stop singing.  It’s like my new favorite song of all time.  Buy it!  If you don’t know what I’m talking about, video is below for your listening and viewing pleasure … I dare you to listen to this song and NOT walk around all day singing “just livin’ my life (ay) my life (oh) my life (ay) my life (oh).”

“I Want to Be More Than a Pretty Girl”-Ani DiFranco/The Loneliest Boy in Hollywood

I was just listening to this song … sort of ties in nicely with the theme of my day. 

I broke the news that I had decided to leave L.A. to one of the most important people in my life, today:  Dr. Sue Harris.  Dr. Sue Harris has been my therapist for the last 5 years.  But to just call her a therapist is really not doing her justice.  She is really there for me, day and night.  The reason that I haven’t thrown myself off a bridge somewhere is directly due to Dr. Harris.  At this point, I really don’t make any important decisions without consulting her first.  And, she’s always right.  Always.  The woman may be perfect.  Anyway, we were discussing my reasons for wanting to move, specifically those centered around guys.  As much as I discuss being a committmentphobe, I really think I’m over that period of my life now.  I’m ready to have a boyfriend.  A real boyfriend; one who lives in the same city.  The problem with this place is that I cannot imagine myself dating any of the guys I meet here.  In fact, I feel like I have nothing but utter contempt for the men in L.A.  It’s a difficult town for dating. 

Callie and I further discussed this evening.  Callie has this friend who I have named “the loneliest boy in Hollywood.”  John is your typical, low self-esteem, douchey mcdoucherson LA guy.  In his mid-30s, attractive enough, semi-charming but finds himself to be much more charming than he, in fact, is, etc., etc.  You know the type.  Anyway, I met him one night and we had a conversation wherein he told me that he had such a difficult time dating in L.A. because it was hard to find “a woman of substance.”  I shit you not.  He used those exact words.  As soon as I heard that, game over.  Sure enough, I learn from Callie that this guy: (a) gets more ass than a toilet seat and (b) usually “dates” a wide variety of cocktail waitresses, 22 y.o., etc., etc.  Now, my problem is not that this guy wants to fuck around with a bunch of chicks.  My problem is that he’s a complete liar about it and misrepresenting himself to the abovementioned cocktail waitresses, who, let’s face it, are probably not that bright if they’re willing to go out with this guy. 

Anyway, apparently his latest victim is a 33 y.o. mortgage “consultant” from Kansas City with no college degree, divorced and has 2 broken engagements post-divorce.  Lonely Boy told Callie that she is “the smartest girl he’s ever dated.”  *Sigh*  This is 100% typical of the dating pool choices out here.  And here’s the worst part:  let’s say that I suffered some traumatic head injury and decided that I really liked LB and wanted to date him.  I wouldn’t even have a chance!  There’s no way that a 37 y.o. attorney would ever be in consideration with this guy.  Just pathetic. 

I know another dude out here in his mid-40s.  He told me that he didn’t want to date any women in their 30s because “obviously they all want to have children right away.”  Thus, he prefers dating women in their 20s.  I believe I called him “pathetic” to his face which was a lot nicer than what I was thinking, I can assure you.  This is coming from a guy who has had some substantial drug problems as well as multiple failed marriages.  Yes, I’m sure all those smart, capable, cool women in their 30s are just DYING to procreate with this guy.  Unbelievable. 

I think L.A. is the perfect town for women if you fit the following mold:

(a) 18-25 y.o.;

(b) super hot; and

(c) pretty dumb.

If you have even a hint of intelligence or a soul, it will be impossible to thrive in this environment.  Trust me.

Anyway, I want to dedicate this song to Callie and all the other rad chicks out there who are not “pretty girls” and don’t want to be fucking rescued like a goddamned kitten in a tree.  I also dedicate this song to the dudes out there who don’t want “pretty girls”, either.  I know there are a bunch of y’all, too.  I’m not mad at you … just talking about a specific type found in the Los Angeles metropolitan area. 

Not a Pretty Girl

i am not a pretty girl
that is not what i do
i ain't no damsel in distress
and i don't need to be rescued
so put me down punk
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair
isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

i am not an angry girl
but it seems like i've got everyone fooled
every time i say something they find hard to hear
they chalk it up to my anger
and never to their own fear
and imagine you're a girl
just trying to finally come clean
knowing full well they'd prefer you
were dirty and smiling

and i am sorry
i am not a maiden fair
and i am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

and generally my generation
wouldn't be caught dead working for the man
and generally i agree with them
trouble is you gotta have yourself an alternate plan
and i have earned my disillusionment
i have been working all of my life
and i am a patriot
i have been fighting the good fight
and what if there are no damsels in distress
what if i knew that and i called your bluff?
don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
whether or not you ever show up

i am not a pretty girl
i don't want to be a pretty girl
no i want to be more than a pretty girl

To Crevasse and Lawrence

Newsflash … this is NOT Match.com!  E and I are feeling nauseated by Lawrence’s inept flirting.  We must ask you both to cease and desist immediately for the benefit of both us and all of my readers out there.  And you, Krevasse … “when I’m teasing, you’ll know”???????????????  Krevasse, I thought better of you.  I’m very disappointed.  Lance Bass also told me to tell you that he is disappointed.  *Shakes head*  Please try to live up to the high standards that led you to become the Krevasse in the first place, please!

L.A. … Totally. Over. It.

On the eve of my 7th anniversary in So. Cal, I’ve made an important decision … I’m leaving.  For real.  Not tomorrow or anything but by June 1, when my lease is up.  I’ve had it.  I think L.A. is a very difficult place to live.  The weather is fantastic, but that’s really the only thing fantastic about this place.  So … where will I go?  Not sure yet but, I have 2 places I’m seriously considering:

1.  Chicago; and

2.  San Francisco.

I’ve lived in SF already … in fact, I left SF to come down here.  I really do love it up there BUT  … that day-in, day-out fog and 60 degree weather may not cut it.  Which leaves me with Chicago, which is probably the frontrunner at this point.  It is really, my home.  And obvs, I’m a bit obsessed with Chicago sports.  Plus, I have family there, as well as a lot of the friends that I love the most.  In SF, I also have a lot of friends, though.  Living there was such a great time for me … I dated like a motherfucker, drank everywhere for free, ate for free, walked everywhere so my body was rockin’ …  hmmmm.  In any case, I’ve decided to visit both places asap.  I’m planning to go up and see my dear friend, K in the next month or so in SF.  Then, I’m trying to figure out a good time to go to Chicago.  Def when the Bears are in town, obvs.

I’m really excited, now that I’ve made this decision.  I really do feel that I’ve been nothing but unhappy since I moved here.  I always thought that people were exaggerating when it was said that this town is comprised of people who are “empty” and “superficial” but … you know what, with a few exceptions (basically, my friends), it’s pretty true.  I sort of hate every single person I meet.  At least 99.9%.  I’ve been trying to hold on and make it “better” by moving all over the city but … yeah, still sort of hate it.  Definitely over it.

Ellen Really is Just All Sorts of Awesome

Ellen just posted this on her official blog … pretty hilarious:

“Hey everybody. There’re only a couple weeks left before we vote. In California there’s a proposition that’s trying to take away my right to be married. And if it passes, my marriage will probably no longer be valid.

The supporters of Proposition 8 have raised more than $25 million just to discriminate against same-sex couples who want to get married. That’s a lot of money.

I can think of 25 million other uses for all that money:

- How about paying teachers more?
- What about helping those people who just lost their homes in the recent fires?
- How about buying a pony for every child in California? How much fun would that be?!

Don’t let them convince you that discrimination is okay just because they can pay for a commercial. It’s wrong. Please vote NO ON PROPOSITION 8! I’m begging you. If you vote no on Prop 8, I’ll buy you a pony.”

One Fifth Avenue-Candace Bushnell

Ms. Bushnell is an author who has my undying devotion as she is the author/creator of Sex and the City.  Her new book is AWESOME.  Total page-turner.  I haven’t been able to put it down since I purchased.  BUY IT!  YOU MUST PURCHASE!!!  In fact, just to help you out, here’s a link to the Amazon.com page. 

http://www.amazon.com/One-Fifth-Avenue-Candace-Bushnell/dp/1401301614/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1224581484&sr=8-1

Why the Jonas Brothers Represent Everything Wrong with Civilization Today

As you can tell, not a Jonas Brothers fan.  I just watched their new video out of a sense of morbid curiousity and … I just don’t get it.  Now, I realize that I’m not exactly in the Jonas Brothers’ demographic of preteen girls but, I have to believe that I wouldn’t dig these guys even if I WERE a preteen girl.  Before I go any further, please watch said offensive video; I warn you, it’s 4 minutes of your life that you will never get back, but I think that watching will make the rest of the post easier to understand:

Now, I’m sure that these 3 young men are fine, upstanding citizens and all that crap but teen heartthrobs?  First of all, don’t you need some level of sex appeal to be a “heartthrob”?  The Jonas Brothers have to be the 3 least sexy dudes I’ve seen in a long time.  And I don’t just think that because they may be under the age of consent.  Not only do they look like children but they look like dorky children.  These guys, to me, look like the band geeks from high school that I used to make fun of.  First, their music sucks so much ass as to render unlistenable.  Second, they appear incredibly earnest, never a sexy quality.  Third, I know that they all wear those “purity” rings which promise that they’ll be virgins until marriage (yeah, right.)  I know one of these dudes was dating Miley Cyrus and there’s no way that girl is a virgin.  She’s like 15 going on 35.  I like that Miley, though.  At least she isn’t total cookie-cutter; little Miley is talented.  This “Love Bug” (ugh … even the name is totally offensive) video makes me want to “eat raw meat and go fuck in the streets” as my mentor, Henry Rollins, would say.

This led to me to think about my own preteen years and what guys I thought were hot during that time period.  Now, again, I may not represent the typical preteen as I was studying every video on MTV when I was 10 and saved my money to go out and buy “Combat Rock” by the Clash as soon as it came out.  I recall having 2 fantasy boyfriends during that time period:  Adam Ant and John Taylor from Duran Duran.  I decided, in the interest of research for this blog post, to watch some old video to see if these boys were actually just as lameo as the Jonas Losers.  First, Adam Ant, “Goody Two Shoes” which, I believe, came out when I was 11 or 12.  See below.

O.K., AA is skinny, wearing eye liner, a half shirt, red leather pants, yellow boots, and has his hair tied back with a ribbon.  And is dancing like a loon from Loonville.  Pretty freakin’ gay, right?  WRONG.  Hot hot hot.  I totally stand by my original 11 y.o. opinion … hot as hell.  Dude.  At the end, where he’s manhandling the journalist and taking off her glasses?  Whew … in fact, I may need a short break.  Be right back.

O.K., sorry about that.  I needed to splash some cold water on my face.  I remember seeing this video and having my first real “sexual” feelings towards a dude.  I don’t think I realized that’s what they were, but most of my fantasies of boys until this point involved holding hands.  Perhaps a chaste kiss on the cheek.  After seeing Mr. Ant in all his New Romantic glory, I realized that holding hands was definitely not going to cut it for me.  I didn’t know WHAT precisely I wanted to do with Adam, but I knew tongue kissing would be involved.  Which was the dirtiest thing I could think to do with a boy. 

I next watched my fave Duran Duran video “Rio.”  A video of some controversy among myself and the world’s other hugest DD fan, my friend TaWnEe/Ashley as she thinks the video qualifies as definitive proof that Simon Le Bon was the hottest member of Duran Duran while I hold that John Taylor, cherry-red suit and all, is by far, hotter.

Again, a bunch of skinny, effeminate Brits BUT … unlike the Brothers Jonas, you do not watch this video and come to an opinion that these boys are “safe.”  And this song is about 700,000x better than “Love Bug.”  I know, that’s a given, but just thought I’d throw it out there.  “Oh Rio, Rio, hear them shout across the land … from mountains in the North, down to the Rio Grande …”

So …. my point?  My point is that music is not SUPPOSED to be “safe.”  Rock stars are supposed to be dangerous and dirty.  ESPECIALLY the teen “heartthrobs.”  Those preteen years are when you start first exploring your sexuality.  If your teen heartthrob at 6 y.o. or 7 y.o. is one of these Jonai, I get it.  If you’re 11 or 12 and your heart is yearning for nerdy mcnerdersons with purity rings, that means that you probably live somewhere in the Bible Belt and are horribly repressed.  And thus, most likely to get knocked up by the time you’re 15.  See Jamie Lyn Spears; also see Bristol Palin.  If you’re allowed to express your sexuality in a safe and normal way, i.e., having dirty dreams about men in red leather pants and pirate makeup, you’re much more likely to grow up to be a healthy, sexual adult.  In theory, anyway.  Perhaps I should publish a book on the subject.  I believe I can call myself Dr. Lisa as I do have a J.D. … hmmmm … point to ponder.