Commitment Phobia

Remember that time I got drunk and cleaned up the heavy traffic stains in my carpet with Resolve and forgot about it until the next morning until I discovered a sparkling clean entryway in my groggy haze? Well last night I threw myself a little party with my secret lover, Franzia (purchased from Wal-Mart just because I'm so friggin' classy. I had to slum it, since I was cheating on Two Buck Chuck). I only had maybe two dollar store wine glasses full, but that stuff is POTENT. This morning I woke up to find the a much larger version of the blanket I started crocheting before the birth of my now three-year-old niece, Sadie. Yup, red wine makes me crochet, in addition to scrubbing carpets with Resolve. I'm like a tipsy eighty-year-old woman with dementia, just cleaning and crafting with abandon. I should probably start drinking more often though if I want to finish that blanket by the time Sadie graduates from grad school…

My drunken spirit animal, Dorothy.

I guess it's been so long since I've written that my boyfriend and I broke up for a whole month (during which I briefly dated someone else who saw his future children in my eyes, oy), and we're already back together again. Without getting into details, there were just too many external circumstances beyond our control that made it hard to be together. But seeing how most of those obstacles no longer exist, or are currently in the process of no longer existing, it's all goofy smiles and romantic trips to Ikea. (Though we made a pact never to attempt building any Ikea furniture together, if we want to remain together without one or both of us committing significant other-icide.) 

The couch that almost sank a newly rekindled love affair.
Isn't it pretty though?

Even more changes have occurred since my last post on Mother's Day (Jesus, where does the time go?). For example, I'm at a new job, in a new apartment, driving a new car, all in a new city, and in general I no longer hate my life due to the misery caused by an unnamed company with an unnamed management team. HUZZAHS ALL AROUND!! I shall now elaborate in the form of a list:

Basically what I do all day, minus the crazy eyes.

• New Job: the dude responsible for my entire career in property management who hired me initially in customer service at Studio City almost three years ago, who hired me again when I transferred to leasing in Pasadena, has now hired me a third time and promoted me to Assistant Manager with a new company in Norwalk. Whut uuuupppp??? Seriously though, god bless this man. More responsibility, more authority, more pressure, but buckets less of daily stress and the least amount of bullshit possible with any corporate gig. I'm so much happier now, I can't even explain it without vehemently comparing my experiences and coming off as bitter and gloating. :D

Not my actual kitchen, but it's basically the same.

• New Apartment: While I was bummed to have to part ways with my awesome roommate, my housing discount from my old job died when I quit. I don't believe in commuting either, so as much as it killed me to leave my beloved Pasadena, I now live on-site at my property in Norwalk and it. is. AWESOME. Sure, it's waaaaaaay more money that I probably should be spending, even after my discount, but it's amazing to live alone again in such a nice place. Plus, you can't beat the ten second commute. Getting to not only come home for lunch, but run and grab a fancier blazer when an unexpected executive visit springs up, is pretty much the best thing ever. I'm saving so much money on going out to eat, which is good, since I can't really afford it anyway. As someone who hates driving, it's an incredible thing to only use my car a few times a week for errands or recreation (saving gas too!). Speaking of my car…

Muriel. Suggested originally as a joke from said boyfriend,
but seeing as Muriel Heslop from Muriel's Wedding is my other
sprit animal, it was PERFECT. 

• New Car: It took a lot of test drives, financial anxiety, and an epic spreadsheet using a point system to try and decide which car to buy, but it was all worth it when I finally brought home Muriel. After ten months living without a car in LA, it was miraculous driving down Colorado Blvd, blasting my Bon Jovi and singing along at the top of my lungs. I realized that if you don't have a car and find singing in the shower to be awkward even when you live alone, you just don't sing. And a life without singing is just sad and shriveled. With that in mind, I was able to finally re-join the Sally Tomatoes, my kickass a cappella group. It was nice having a break, especially since I was dealing with a lot of other crap, in addition to the commute being brutal and damn near impossible on public transportation. But I missed those girls and that music, and all the karaoke you can handle!

There aren't many photos of Norwalk online.

• New City: Norwalk is a strange place. And by strange, I mean it's probably not strange at all compared to the rest of America. I've realized that every place I've lived has been very distinctive. Irvine, with its wide, clean streets and Big Brother watching your every move in a soulless but aesthetically-pleasing atmosphere. South Central, with its crazy characters, cheap rent, and great stories. North Hollywood/Studio City, with its wannabe-famous actors/porn stars and medical marijuana as far as the eye can see. Pasadena, with its charming and historical shops and restaurants, and pedestrian-friendly geography (*sheds tear*). But Norwalk is pretty generic, as far as I can tell. Not quite LA, but not quite Orange County. It's in this weird state of limbo where people aren't terribly tech savvy, no one uses reusable grocery bags, and you have to drive twenty plus minutes to get to a Trader Joe's but Walmart is just down the street. I don't mean to sound condescending when I say this. It's just when you've lived in LA so long, you don't realize that it's far from normal.

As close as I could come to capturing
LA yuppie culture in one photo.
I'm a bit disappointed in the internet today.

I'm sure there are other changes, but those are the big ones. It's crazy to think how drastically my life has changed from one year ago. And from the year before that. I never thought of myself as restless, but I haven't lived in the same place or worked at the same job for more than a year and nine months (random number I know, but it's been a pattern). In fact, it kind of freaks me out to think about the future and where I'll be in five years. Probably in a foreign country teaching English and taking vacations in Thailand with my Doctors without Borders husband, Ron. Anyone want to start taking bets?

Playing Ketchup Part 1

I've definitely been through some crap in my life, but the Universe (my arch-nemesis) decided to throw my way a rather eclectic slew of challenges both big and small within a relatively short period of time. With every new shitstorm, I would chuckle and utter, "Well played, sir, well played." Then I would burst into tears because eventually even the most minor of hiccups would send me reeling at the cruelty and injustice of fate. Once the clock struck 2013, however, life became just a little bit brighter. (After I stopped vomiting all over San Francisco, details to come). I know it's insane to think that things magically change when one year ends and the next begins. But the proof is in the pudding. Mmm... pudding.

Playing Ketchup

How do I summarize six months worth of drama, heartbreak, transition, and triumph? Why, let's make a list! (I feel like this is the start of a very bizarre musical number, but then again, that's how I feel about 90% of the time).

1. My Body Has Declared Mutiny

After hardly being sick a day in my life (other than a random week of vertigo in high school during which I tried to walk down the hallway and ended up swaying and stumbling into lockers like the love child of Lucille 2 and a drunken sailor), I managed to end up at the doctor at least a bajillion times (more like 7 or 8, but still). While the issues I faced were in no way serious or life-threatening, (trying to maintain perspective), it definitely felt like it at the time. Ultimately I blame the stress from my job at Studio City for completely fucking up my immune system. I'm still dealing with some health problems, but everything seems to be under control at the moment. Of course now I find myself frantically WebMDing even the slightest twinge, cough, or tummy rumble. The experience has made me a raging hypochondriac, so thanks for that new diagnosis as well, Universe.

Lucille 2
My imaginary mother

2. RIP Stan 1989-2012

My beloved car and oft-mentioned Partner in Crime, Stan, perished on October 5th, 2012. I was coming home from Sally Tomatoes practice late at night when I noticed he was making strange chugging noises up the 405 near Sherman Oaks. All of a sudden, the lights went out. Whatever strange car disease he caught must have been contagious, since he sidled up right behind another car that was also stopped dead in the right hand lane. They had to shut down the whole frickin' freeway which was still crowded at 10:30pm on a Wednesday, so a CHP car could literally push me up the hill and roll down the other side to the offramp. It was very dramatic. While I waited in the cold for a tow truck, I curled up in a ball in the front seat, sobbing. I had a feeling this was the beginning of the end for my dear friend. Sure enough, Pep Boys would have had to basically rebuild the whole frickin' engine. Not worth it for a car this old and admittedly shitty. So I donated his body to charity and adjusted to the harsh reality of being a pedestrian in LA.

3. The Schlep

I had only just transferred to my new property in Pasadena, originally a mere 20 minute drive from North Hollywood, when suddenly I had a two hour commute on my hands. This involved two trains and a thirty minute walk through ghetto NoHo. Because LA public transportation is stupid. Adding two hours on either end of my work day was just killing me. Not literally. But it did suck.

4. My 25th Birthday

Speaking of suck, October 16th was my 25th birthday. Arguably the last milestone birthday I will ever have (if you consider finally being able to rent a car as a milestone). I had to work that day, so I carried my party dress, cute shoes, and makeup all the way through the Schlep for my birthday dinner at Cheesecake Factory in Old Town Pasadena. I invited fourteen people. Guess how many showed up. One. My dear gay husband Eric, who still made the whole affair fabulous. But when you're already having a hard time, you just want to have fun and cheesecake with the people who love you. While I know that this is not the end of the world, especially compared to everything else that was going on, it was definitely the rancid cherry on top of a crap sundae.

Fun Fact: My birthday was at the same Cheesecake Factory where Penny works in the Big Bang Theory. It looks nothing like this and I'm not sure why on earth she wears that ridiculous uniform that also bears no resemblance to the real thing. In any case, the more you know!

5. The Big Move

This one is actually a good thing. Because I could no longer stand losing four hours of my life commuting, I knew I had to move to Pasadena STAT. Ever since I left UC Irvine, I vowed never again to have a roommate. Not that my experiences with roommates were so bad, but I love being Queen of my own castle. I finally came to the realization that I could either spend $775 for a terrible one-bedroom in the ghetto with no A/C or heater, but plenty of cockroaches, or spend substantially less to share a discounted luxury two-bedroom in glorious Pasadena at one of my company's properties. Needless to say, my place is BOMB (to borrow a 90s colloquialism)! Also, my roommate Smita is awesome. We very rarely see each other, but when we do, we hang out and watch Say Yes to the Dress or forensic cop shows.

Another Fun Fact: the exterior of City Hall from Parks and Rec is also in Pasadena. I fucking love this town!

6. Boy Drama

a. Winston.
I took a break from boys while I was figuring some stuff out. But once I thought I was back on my feet,  I met a guy named Winston. He was very sweet and I thought the name Winston was the best thing ever. Sadly Winston gave me the creeps. I could never put my finger on why exactly. I tried to give him a second chance by inviting him to watch Community over at my place. I was still commuting at the time, so I ended up falling asleep on the couch halfway through the second episode. Yes, I was exhausted, but I have a feeling if I had liked him more, I probably would have powered through. Poor guy, will probably always be traumatized by that. He tried to kiss me good night and my gut instinct was to basically shove him out the door. The last time that happened was with the French Creeper. Has this impulse ever happened to anyone else?

"Are there other black nerds, or is it just you and Urkel?" -30 Rock

b. Patrick
Patrick was a good guy. Imagine Toofer from 30 Rock, only slightly less pompous. We went on a fantastic first date to a South American BBQ place that must have been really expensive. (I'm not used to that). We got along great, talked for a few hours at Starbucks, and he walked me home in the rain. Then I was an adorable romcom heroine and couldn't get the damn security gate unlocked with my fancy new laser fob thingie. I ended up having to call myself on the intercom to buzz myself in. Which he thought was hilarious. And then I never heard from him again. At least not until a few weeks ago. I was used to guys disappearing though it always drives me nuts. But he sincerely apologized and explained himself to my satisfaction. When I told him I was dating someone else, he gallantly said, "I knew I couldn't be your only fan." Sweet, right? Though now it sounds kind of creepy and stalkerish. But I swear, it wasn't like that. I hope.

c. Matthew
Frickin' puppet master. Not even worth a whole paragraph.

I find this picture highly unsettling...

d. James
The first time I ever said "Fuck you" to someone, and genuinely meant it. I guess it's my own fault. Damn those twinkly blue eyes and devilish grin. That boy is poooooiiiisoooon.

7. Family Drama

I don't really want to go into the details of this one. Basically, the one thing I always thought I could count on, my family, nearly fell apart around Thanksgiving. As a whole, we seem to have moved past it, but it's still not ok with me.

Corporate espionage!!! Dun dun dun!

8. Selling Out

The Monday after Thanksgiving, my company found out that our two biggest competitors bought us out and were going to divide us up 60/40. The well-established, flourishing company that I finally had grown to love (after transferring to Pasadena and realizing that it was just Studio City that was Hell on Wheels), no longer exists. Imagine if McDonald's and Carl's Jr. randomly decided to buy out Burger King. It's kind of like that. No one saw it coming. At the time, we didn't know if we were all still going to have jobs, or what the new company would be like. The term "drinking from the firehose" was thrown around a lot. The sale is finally complete, but we are still in the painful process of transition. It's turning out to be ok, just awkward. The only thing that remains to be seen is whether I my kickass employee housing discount will be cut in half. That would suck. But we shall see.

9. Grief

Not long after attending a friend's funeral, I lost two members of my own extended family. Some of my other friends have experienced similar tragedies and my heart just breaks for them as well. It definitely comes in waves.

I wish I looked this pretty when I'm sick...

10. Vomitting on BART

To top off a truly banner year, on New Year's Eve I christened a Bay Area Rapid Transit train with the contents of my upset stomach. Specifically, copious amounts of pasta mixed with vodka. Sorry about that, people of San Francisco! But that's what you get when your best friend who moved to San Francisco leaving you alone and miserable in LA is a former alcoholic and drinks vicariously through you and you just happen to be a lightweight. After a lovely day visiting with Eric and exploring the city, we had decided to watch the midnight fireworks over Fisherman's Wharf from on top of a faraway hill. But the entire time the fireworks were exploding and Eric was sharing the traditional New Year's kiss with his boyfriend, I was blorching like a champ. I like to think that I was vomiting up everything bad about 2012. I still had a nasty hangover on January 1st, but once it was over, a fresh start lay ahead.

So that's just a sampling of everything that sucked about 2012. This is already a really long post, so I think I'll leave the sort-of happy ending for next time. Ta da!

Plenty of Awkward

The past few weeks have been filled with awkwardness of the most acute variety. Mainly from two sources which I will now proceed to break down like a late 80s neon-clad subway busker on a cardboard dance floor:

PART ONE: Here fishy fishy!

I have mentioned before that I have twice dipped my toe into the proverbial ocean of online dating via Plentyoffish.com. First, I just looked around, was disappointed in the kind of menfolk that were available, and ran away screaming. The second time, I gave it some more thought and actually tried to fill out a profile. This just made me depressed and caused hours of tipsy self-analysis. Since then I hadn't really given plenty o' fish another though. My life is complicated and stressful enough without adding some guy's baggage to it.

My own baggage is already full enough.

But a few weeks ago I was clearing out spam from my personal e-mail, already bored with my weekend. I noticed an e-mail with the headline "Hutch, you have 17 new matches!" Woop-de-doo. Doesn't mean jack. But still, it piqued my interest. Why the hell not take a look? So I finished my profile (queasy the whole time) and started fishing for real. It seemed like every guy listed 'working out' or 'going to the gym' as one of his interests. Whether he really is a gym rat, or thinks that by saying he is, he will get more girls, I don't know. But anyone who views exercise as fun and not a necessary evil is clearly someone who will not be interested in me (who works out faithfully for months at a time, only to go months without working out at all.) Not that staying healthy and active isn't important. But if you spend over twelve hours a week in the gym running in circles and lifting heavy things, your priorities are out of order. Or they just aren't in sync with mine.

Just seems rather pointless, doesn't it?

I also noticed an inordinate amount of guys with pictures of themselves in the bathroom mirror taken with their iPhone. Whether they were fully clothed, shirtless, or lifting up their Ed Hardy shirt Situation-style, this was a major turnoff (*salutes* "Major Turnoff!"). I don't know why it bothers me so much. Some guys may just not have a good picture of themselves, but can't they have their friend or mom or cat take two seconds to snap a photo that doesn't have a toilet seat in the background that clearly hasn't been cleaned in years? Nothing says sexy like seeing which kind of deodorant and shaving cream a guy uses while he throws up some lame peace sign. Of course I'm judging these guys, but I'm sure my profile is just as lame in other ways. Because as I observed previously, it's impossible to create these things and not come off as some type of tool.

Typical. And just silly. Stop it, boys.

Within a few minutes with my face permanently fixed in stinkeye position, I already had a couple guys interested in meeting me (meaning they probably just pushed the 'yes' button while scanning my picture for .5 seconds without actually reading my profile. Not really flattering, but I'll take what I can get). I also had a message from one guy. It wasn't much, but it was a start. So I started e-mailing back and forth with this one guy, as well as a couple others. The problem is, what on earth do you talk about with a complete stranger?

The basic theme of the conversations seemed to be "Hi, how are you today?" Me, being the witty conversationalist that I am, always tried to throw them off with something adorable and quirky, but they didn't seem to really appreciate my sense of humor. Many of them just wanted to get my phone number so we could text. Like I'm going to give out my number to someone who could be an axe murderer. (Which could conceivably happen in a bar or other socially acceptable arena, but at least then I would know what he was really like in person first and if it was worth the risk). Plus, and more importantly, I don't have unlimited texting and this could get expensive.

This kind of messaging went on for a few days until one night when I got a chat request from some guy I had never heard of. He was kind of cute, and had a profile I would actually consider. (The ratio seems to be one in twenty-four profiles is not completely abhorrent to me. That sounds like I'm really picky, but I just don't want to waste my time with Douches. Note the capital 'D.') So we're chatting away, which seems to be slightly less stilted than e-mailing back and forth. Discussing relationships, men and women, even sex (but in a general, philosophical sense). Then he started getting dirty. Like really dirty. Which freaked me out big time. Aaaah! What the heck? Am I here just for some cyber one-night stand? Plus he still lives with his parents at 26 and uses 'u' instead of 'you'. NOPE!

"Well as far as I'm concerned, the internet is just another way of being rejected by a woman."

-George from "You've Got Mail"

So that put me off the whole process for a while, but there were a few nice guys I was still talking to. I like that you can sort of get to know each other first before giving out any personal information lest they turn out to be an uber-creeper like the aforementioned. And you can always block a guy if he says something really random but cruel like one guy did. I won't repeat what he said, but it didn't warrant a response. Just a swift click of the 'block user' button. I got that message, another chat request from dirty perv boy, and made a connection with one of the good guys all within about 10 seconds of each other. A little overwhelming ride of emotions, from pain to disgust to delight. I'm meeting one of the guys for the first time in a few hours (in a public place in mid-day). We'll see how that goes...

PART TWO So when did you get saved?

Yesterday I was invited to my neighbor's birthday party. He's a nice guy that I've talked to a few times since moving in in March. I always kind of got the feeling he dug me. Which put this whole fantasy in my head a la Friends or Big Bang Theory of falling in love with the guy across the hall. Not that I was that into him, but that's a pretty powerful pop culture image. Plus, it sure would be convenient seeing as it's the complete opposite of a long distance relationship.

I miss "Friends" a lot.

I stopped by about 30-45 minutes late because I thought it would be awkward to be the first one there. Hah. Also I was watching Friday Night Lights which is my new favorite thing in the world. (Sorry Desperate Housewives, you've been replaced. I don't give a crap about high school football, but this show is riveting and so well-done! Plus I met one of the actors and wanted to get more familiar with his oeuvre of work. Tee hee, oeuvre sounds dirty doesn't it? Anyway, back to my story.)

Hell yes!!

I walked across the way to my neighbor's apartment where several people had already crammed in the tiny one-bedroom. Picture this, a room full of nicely dressed though slightly douchey looking dudes sitting in silence around a veggie tray watching a subtitled kung fu movie. There was one other girl, but she didn't seem to have anything to say other than "Are you sure you don't want any potato chips?" Maybe she was just as bored as I was. I could tell something was off about this party. But not wanting to sit awkwardly much longer, I asked, "So, how do you guys all know each other?"

"Oh, we all go to the same church."

Oh....

I should have suspected this when I noticed the cutesy angel sign reading 'God Bless This House' over the bedroom. Not that there's anything wrong with going to church. By all means, if it makes you feel good and provides the social atmosphere that people crave, that's fantastic. I just knew I was even more out of place than I thought (besides being underdressed in just jeans and a t-shirt). So more awkward silence persisted while the kung fu movie gave us something to look at besides our shoes.

Hell no!

Then one of the guys turns to the guy to his right and asks, "So when did you get saved?" The guy responded, "Once when I was seventeen, then again when I was twenty-six and gave my life to god to be a pastor."

It was at that moment that I knew I had to get out of there. Luckily, I had a good and true excuse that I had to go meet up with a friend. But our host was hiding in his room talking on the phone and folding laundry. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. Because we were all sitting silently, I couldn't just slip out unnoticed. So I counted the minutes until my neighbor was done with his laundry so I could say "Happy Birthday" and take off. He gave me a hug, (which I am not a hugger, but whatevs) and said to stop by when I got back.

Finally I was free!!!! I drove off like I had the devil after me (tee hee). I went to my friend Eric's house for our Sunday tradition of quiche and True Blood (which is a whole lot more satisfying than church in my opinion.) Why quiche you may ask? Because it's effing delicious for one thing. And for another, Eric and I have been making quiche ever since his 21st birthday almost exactly five years ago when we got drunk and were craving quiche even though we had never made it before and ended up making the best quiche ever even without any recipe or soberness and proceeded to eat it on the floor of my kitchen with two random girls we met at the supermarket at midnight after work. So that's my quiche story which I've probably told a million times, but it was such an awesome memory I don't care.

After True Blood, I headed back from Koreatown to NoHo only to find an ambush waiting for me in the parking lot. My neighbor's "party" had turned into a late night bible discussion. My neighbor called me over and I couldn't very well say no even though it was late at night and I was tired. True Blood takes a lot out of you, you know. He asked me about my faith, which I tried to sum up succinctly. "I believe in something, but I'm not a fan of organized religion." Of course, my religious history is a hell of a lot more complicated than that, but it was too late to get into it.

But he kept goading me in the polite, well-meaning way Christians often do. And I just couldn't deny my Hutch heritage to debate circles around an opponent. Normally I hate debating, but he wouldn't let it go. So I let him have it. And I explained how many horrible things I have witnessed under the guise of religion. How I don't believe in the bible, so don't use that to support your arguments. How my biggest political believe is that religion has no business in politics. How I don't agree with a large majority of what is considered to be a sin. How pretentious, insincere and commercial religion has become. How religion has mistreated a large number of my friends who happen to be gay and caused them so much pain and heartbreak. For all the good things religion does, it destroys and divides just as much.

It was a calm, respectful discussion for the most part, but it did raise my hackles quite a bit. Especially when an older gentleman got involved and tried to convince me that people aren't born gay. I tried to make him understand that why would someone choose to be estranged from their family, bullied and beaten at school, not given equal rights under the law, and suffer so much derision from people like him if they weren't being true to themselves?

Anyway, so now it's going to be suuuuper awkward whenever I see my neighbor. I used to think he wanted in my pants, but now I know he just wants to save my soul. Which is kind of hurtful to my ego, but whatevs.

Fictional Men who have Ruined Real Men for Life

I was attempting to distract myself from the tortuous waiting of a very important phone call, so I decided to make a list. Upon revisiting The Office after watching Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, I have determined that no man will ever live up to the glory that is Jim Halpert. Sorry heterosexual menfolk, you just can't catch a break. He's pretty much perfect. Tall, sweet, adorable in a non-Ken doll way, smart, funny, hopelessly romantic but in a subtle, not-cheesy way. Jim got me thinking about all the other fictional men who collectively set the absurdly high standard their gender.

Yes, we realize that these are not real people. Mr. Darcy isn't really going to sweep us off our feet one day. And in reality, my personal standards aren't terribly high. But we've devoted countless hours to drooling over perfect (or perfectly flawed) man candies we can't have. And so here is a tribute to them and how they make every man we will ever meet seem short, awkward (in a not cute way), and generally off-putting. And I put a picture for every man because I was that bored today.

1. Jim Halpert - The Office

The perfect man. Period.

2. Jake Ryan - Sixteen Candles

The last real dreamboat and every teenage girl's fantasy.

3. Angel - Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel

Hulking brooding savior complex type with an unexpected self-deprecating sense of humor.

4. Mr. Darcy - Pride and Prejudice

Every woman's fantasy. I had a Mr. Darcy myself until I realized he really was just an asshole and not secretly awesome in addition to being sexy.

5. Seth Cohen - The O.C.

Snarky, adorable, with pop culture references to spare and the world's greatest jew fro (one of my particular weaknesses).

6. Prince Eric - The Little Mermaid

I'm not taking it back because he happens to be animated.

7. Captain Malcolm Reynolds - Firefly/Serenity

Badass space cowboy pirate, aptly nicknamed Captain Tightpants.

8. Indiana Jones - Duh

Fedora + whip + stubble = hawt.

9. Tom Lefroy - Becoming Jane

I heart James McAvoy with all my soul, and if Jane Austen is going to give up on him to be noble, I will gladly be there to pick up the pieces. I'm no saint.

10. Christian - Moulin Rouge

He's got a huge talent.

11. Lloyd Dobbler - Say Anything

Quite possibly the greatest grand gesture of all time.

12. Ned - Pushing Daisies

Hopefully I don't die before we get together and therefore can never actually touch him.

13. Theodore "Teddy/Laurie" Lawrence - Little Women

As with Jane Austen, if Jo is a moron and doesn't realize what she has, I'll tap that.

14. Wesley - The Princess Bride

I dig the mask. As you wish indeed.

15. Ferris Bueller - Ferris Bueller's Day Off

Can you imagine how perfect life would be? Everything would just fall into place.

16. Connor McManus - The Boondock Saints

Irish vigilante in a pea coat, what's not to love?

17. Crybaby Walker - Crybaby

The only role I truly dig Johnny Depp in as a sexual object. Swoon.

18. Chuck Bartowski - Chuck

He's just so darn cute. And he has skills.

19. Ted Mosby - How I Met Your Mother

Mostly the first season before he gets all Barnified. Hopeless romantic who performs a rain dance for the woman he loves.

20. Dr. Jack Shepherd - Lost

Maybe I just like guys with God complexes. Plus the manliest stubble ever depicted on celluloid.

21. Ben Stone - Knocked Up (This may be just for me)

I definitely have a thing for delightful Jew-fro'd shlubby guys with hidden sweet sides.

22. Bill/Eric/Alcide/Eggs/Jason/Sam, pretty much most male cast members of True Blood Who is their casting director? Because they have mad skills.

So that's my list. Feel free to contribute, but they must meet the criteria of: fictional (not actors, though it could be argued that their public persona is in fact a character and not actually representative of them in real life), and they have to be the kind of guy you want to run away with. Not just to take advantage of him and then never call again. If you mention Edward Cullen, I may have to slap you. Unless I'm kind of tipsy and admit that I secretly love him even though he is everything that is wrong with males (possessive, sexist, poncey, with too much hair product. But goddamn, can he wear a pea coat. Which everyone knows is my weakness). Also if you're a heterosexual man reading this, you are fully entitled to create a corresponding female list. No double standards at Sporadic Sporkitudes.

UPDATE: That phone call never came, so now I'm drinking a delicious glass of Two Buck Chuck Cabernet and feeling just fine. Though still tortured that Jim doesn't exist. And that Jim also happens to be my dad's name. So that would be a problem if Jim Halpert did exist. But I like to think we could overcome that. I could always give him a nickname. Big Tuna?

"Ellen Feeds off Your Energy"

I am simultaneously exhausted and ecstatic. Literally dragging my feet on air (if that's possible). I just got home from one of the longest and yet most amazing days of my life. Thanks to our friend Nicky being a total flake (which is why we love you!), I got to go to a live taping of the Ellen Degeneres show with my partner in crime (and by crime I mean obsessively quoting How I Met Your Mother among other things), Kelly Bean.

The queen of all things delightful!

I haven't watched the show very much to be honest. I'm not usually around during the day, and if I am, I haven't had even basic network television for almost two years now. But I love Ellen with all my heart and soul. She is a goddess. I worship at the altar of her witty yet relatively clean standup ("Gloria Estefan is the copper plumbing of the music industry!"). Her performance as Dory made Finding Nemo one of the few computer animated I absolutely adore. And of course there's her courage, kindness, and all around kick-assness that cannot be denied. Naturally I was so there it was insane. Not to mention I am a film geek and will look for any chance even to be in the same vicinity as the people who make movies and television. I would have been happy just to sit in the parking lot (which we did a lot of today...).

After waking up absurdly early to beat the surprisingly non-existent traffic to the Valley, I picked up Kelly Bean and headed out to Burbank towards the Promised Land (aka Warner Brothers). It was tough, with Kelly's bitch of a GPS guide (not so lovingly named Karen), mumbling orders seconds before they had to be executed, but we made it there before 9 am. We got our tickets, 287 and 288, and prepared to sit for 5 or 6 hours until the show started. Luckily the nice, perky show wrangler Kathryn (who looks startlingly like Rachel from Glee), told us we could skedaddle until check-in at 1:30pm. So we returned to Studio City to watch Arrested Development and eat pasta salad. Riveting, I know.

Later, we headed back to Warner Brothers where Abercrombie Chad, the nice, cute, possibly gay wrangler helped us to get checked in. Meanwhile I grilled the security guard (who went to film school like me) how he liked working for the WB. Always networking, that's my occasional motto. Kelly and I played Crazy 8s and Go Fish with the tiny cards I always keep with me for just such occasions, while hoards upon hoards of people arrived. We got to see a few episodes of Ellen while we waited, which was ever so pleasant, and heightened the anticipation of seeing the Great One in the flesh. But as time wore on and announcements were made, it became clear that we might not actually get into the taping. They overbook the show like crazy, so most standby ticketholders end up watching the show from the aptly named Riff Raff Room.

Since awesome things like this rarely work out for me, I assumed that we would end up among the Riff Raff. I hate getting my hopes up just to be disappointed. "I bet they cut it off right in front of us," I wagered to Kelly Bean. I bet her the enormous sum of $3, which of course she now owes me. Yes. I was the very first person in line in the Riff Raff Room. We started the process before 9 in the morning, and here it was 2 in the afternoon and we weren't going to get in, despite Kathryn/Glee Rachel playing with our hopes. When the seats had all been filled, she looked at me and said "We have room for one more." Seriously? Well Kelly was the whole reason I was there, I couldn't just abandon her because I'd arbitrarily grabbed 287 and not 288. So she called for a single rider and someone else took the very last spot in the Cathedral of Degeneres.

While some mediocre comedian warmed up the crowd in the next room, Kathryn attempted to console the unwashed, unchosen masses with a raffle. Oooh lord knows I'd take a good raffle over meeting one of my idols any day of the week. But sure enough she called out '287,' obviously unaware that I never win anything. Part of me thinks she took pity on me being first in line and rigged it. But in any case, the winners were led into a corner to claim our prize. Which turned out to be "12 tickets." At least that's what I heard. I had no idea what that meant. Like twelve tickets to twelve different shows? Cool, I guess, but some of us (ideally) have work. But all the shrieking middle aged, big haired ladies informed us that she meant the "Twelve Days of Christmas" series of the Ellen Show. Apparently the first couple weeks of Christmas, Ellen gives everyone in the audience thousands of dollars worth of gifts. FUCK YES!! (Though I just know something is going to come up that will prevent me from getting my gifts and actually seeing the show being taped.)

At last it was time for the show to start. Eva Mendes was first. Eh. Then Flo Rida performed "Club Can't Even Handle Me" completely off-key but that song is a bit of a guilty pleasure for me. And it was awesome when he removed his comically oversized gold glitter bling necklace and bestowed it upon a lucky audience member. All this we watched from the next room by the Ellen gift shop, close enough to hear the audience clapping, laughing, hooting, uproariously. Kind of depressing, even though I scored with the Twelve Days tickets.

The last guest on the show was Mindy Kaling, who is another one of my idols. We didn't know who the guests were going to be until we got there, and I think I was the only one ridiculously stoked about her. For those not aware, Mindy is Kelly Kapoor from the Office, but she also happens to be one of the main writers (the genius who created Jim and Pam's epic wedding episodes), as well as an executive producer. Plus I follow her twitter and she is hi-larious! Mindy even has the honor of being mentioned in my inaugural Sporadic Sporkitudes blog. That's how much I adore her. Sadly, her segment wasn't terribly good, but she is still one of my role models.

Mindy along with fellow

writer/producer BJ (tee hee) Novak

During one of the commercial breaks, the lights turned up in the Riff Raff Room. Kathryn made everyone stand and turn towards the main staircase. Everyone was buzzing, "She's coming! She's coming! Oh my god, she's coming!" Which sounds kind of foreboding, but as I saw a shadow coming down the hall, I knew it was her. Ellen came down the stairs, not six feet from me, smiling and waving to the peasant folk below. She was so beautiful, with her brilliant blue eyes sparkling, and her smile genuine and gracious. Sort of like a lesbian Grace Kelly. Even if I hadn't won the raffle, that moment right there would have been worth the hours of waiting on the drafty parking lot bench area, and the disappointment of just barely missing the Cathedral.

The show was ending, and Kelly and I bolted to the door to beat the traffic of Ellen-sheep. But Kathryn halted us. There was more? Sometimes they film segments from different shows when they can and SURPRISE! Ben Affleck was there! Kathryn pulled me aside and said they had one seat to fill. I looked at Kelly, then asked, "It's only this segment, right?" So I headed up the stairs, totally pumping my fist the whole way. I got lost at first, but then they led me to a seat in the second row! I was in heaven. There was the set, the cameras, the real audience, everything! I tried to take it all in, but was overwhelmed.

YAY!

Ellen came out in a new outfit, and introduced Ben Affleck. My 7th grade self was delighted to observe that in real life Ben is super tall (a particular fetish of mine), with super nice teeth, just as studly as he is in the movies. (Now that he's starting to take himself and his work more seriously, I can respect him again.) So I got to be an audience member for about 15 minutes. I thought it would be awesome to dance around and get my groove on. But let me tell you, it was AWKWARD. Especially since I was all by myself, kinda tired, and slightly self-conscious that I looked kind of rumpled with greasy long-day face (after I had applied my make up so carefully and selected the perfect outfit for my television debut). The comedian kept making us clap and shout way longer than was natural, and it was hard. Woe is me!

Catch Ellen's show on Wednesday to try and find me during the Ben Affleck segment. I'm sure I looked awesome. Even more awesome about getting to watch this small part, was that I got to win the stuff Ellen gave away! The Riff Raff Room does not get presents, it turns out. But I was entitled to a Flo Rida CD (woo?) and a $100 gift card to Victoria Secret. Personally, I'd rather just have $100. I'm not big on the frilly things, and I'm too big to actually wear anything from there. So I gave it to Kelly Bean so she wouldn't hate me as much for getting to see the set. Fair tradeoff? Sort of? Well she's my guest for the Twelve Day's show, so we'll both score then, hopefully. (I want a new tv, a laptop, and a pony Ellen!). They called me right when I got home today and we are scheduled for December 14th. Even without the gifts, I'll just be stoked to see a whole show. It is such a high, even though this is is really only the second live taping I've seen in my life. The first being a sitcom pilot that never got picked up though I enjoyed it immensely.

What else could explain her

youthful appearance and demeanor?

Sorry this is such a Russian novel, but one of the funniest things I noted was the oft-repeated wrangler phrase, "Ellen feeds off your energy." Meaning, dance, cheer, clap, etc. But the way they said it made it seem like Ellen is some kind of demon who literally feeds on your soul. The more you applaud, the stronger she grows. Soon she'll be UNSTOPPABLE! Why else do you think she dances so much? But if any one person has to take over the world, I'm glad it's going to be Ellen. But I am utterly exhausted, so I think she really did drain my energy and use it to stay so young at heart...

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Puppy Snuggles

A lot of the time I'm pretty much Little Miss Doom and Gloom. But today is unequivocally awesome. So I think I shall revel in this euphoric feeling before it passes and I return to regularly scheduled whining. Yes, I'm at work on a Sunday, and have worked every one of the last 8 days. But I honestly love my job and will genuinely miss it when it's over next week. (And not just because unemployment sucks). I think the reason today rocks so much is because it was supposed to be INSANE. But here are the reasons why I'm full of sunshine, lollipops, and puppy snuggles today:

This is me today.

1. Daylight Savings Time. I got a fantastic night's sleep thanks to good ol' DST. I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day. And because it's Sunday, there was no traffic. At all. It took me less than 15 minutes to get here. If you've experienced L.A. traffic, you know what a HUGE deal that is.

2. My car, Stan, doesn't smell quite as bad as he did yesterday, so things are looking up after that fiasco.

3. Though I had no caffeine in my system, I was absolutely wired when I got to work. Like seriously, I had to reign in the impulse to perform an impromptu floor show set to a mash-up of the Hawaii 5-O theme song and Fuck You by Cee-Lo Green (the medley running through my head at a squirrel's pace and pitch). I so rarely feel naturally energetic and it was glorious.

4. I got to work in the registration room at work. Which does not sound remotely interesting or fun. Today was supposed to be our busiest, most hectic, most scream-at-each other's-incompetence day. But everyone I encountered was also in a stellar mood, super friendly, and grateful for our excellent customer service. I don't interact with new people all that often, so the chance to actually have some face time with people who do what I want to do, was exhilarating. It was fast-paced, but never overwhelming, and made the morning just fly by. Plus, someone asked me to bless their badge so they would have good luck at the Market. I placed my hand on it and cried, "BOOSH!"

5. Because today is our busiest day, we got to order room service for lunch on the company's dime. Free food is always welcome, and fancy free food that they bring right to your door is quite the novelty for me.

6. When I sat back down at my desk, I had an e-mail waiting for me from the Sassy Curmudgeon. I had e-mailed her a while ago to tell her how much her blog meant to me (and how frickin' hilarious it is, so if you haven't read it yet, check it out post haste. I'll wait...). She is super cool and was really supportive and encouraging of my little endeavor here. I felt literally star struck. She also made the incredibly kind gesture of plugging Sporadic Sporkitudes via her blogroll. So yay many times over!

7. The weather has finally cooled down, but it is still an absolutely gorgeous day in Santa Monica. We can hear the screams from the roller coaster on the pier, which sounds disconcerting, but is actually kind of fun. We can see sailboats gliding on the mid-afternoon ocean and the waves are all sparkly like something out of a beach town reality show.

8. I feel hot today. I probably don't look hot. But it's of those rare occasions when my self-esteem is actually pretty damn high. So even though I know it's all in my head, and I'll soon go back to feeling like a lumbering Russian circus bear, I like the way I look today. (Plus I got a sweet but not creepy compliment from a guy in the reg room).

9. There are hot. guys. everywhere I look. I never get to see attractive men. It seems like everyone I meet is either female, gay, married and/or old, or freshly released from prison. (Sadly I was attracted to the ex-con. He was easily 6'3'' and I have a tall-guy fetish. Plus I made him giggle. A huge, tattooed bald ex-addict with a Hollywood anklet and I made him giggle). Not only are there hot guys everywhere, but they're hot film guys. Double bonus. Plus, I met the love of my life. A be-stubbled Canadian filmmaker with a Jew fro in a plaid shirt who was a decent height and who laughed at my lame 'pen thief' joke. That's like every single one of my turn-ons.

10. Working today means I get super duper magical bonus round overtime pay. And there is not a thing wrong with that ; )

Seriously. Wow.

So to recap, I feel fantastic about life. It may be light-years from perfect, but right now I really can't complain.

UPDATE: Just as I finished this ridiculously saccharin post, I've learned that there is a Laker game tonight. Goddammit. That means I have to sit in my smelly car for an hour. Well, the euphoria was nice while it lasted.