Tampons in the Zombie Apocolypse

Let the record show that the only reason I'm writing this is because my brother David says I can't legitimately open up my bottle of fancy champagne until I write something worth celebrating. And homegirl needs some wine stat. I actually meant to write this weeks ago and just never got around to it. Like I never get around to most things... So here goes.

This blog is dedicated to that bottle of champagne,
which I will be drinking shortly
to celebrate my return to blogging.
Don't ask about the bananas and bare chest.
Long story.

Anyone else here tired of zombies? I know that I am. They're gross and boring, despite the few movies and television series that attempt to prove otherwise. (Warm Bodies is the exception. And the Shit.) In any case, zombies are a good demonstration of the philosophy that you just never know. And that it doesn't hurt to be prepared.

So freaking adorable. Though I would not tap that.

I started thinking about zombies a few weeks ago after LA was plagued by a rash of earthquakes. I was sitting at home by myself, when I felt a single jolt. My first conclusion? Some drunk ass ran their car into the building (much like I did when I was 16 and was backing out of the driveway by myself for the first time. True story. Though alcohol wasn't involved). But being too exhausted to investigate, I let it go. Maybe 45 minutes later, I felt The Big One. (At least the Biggest One I've Ever Felt. Tee hee, that's what she said...). I jumped out of my comfy chair and stood in a doorway. I was ok in the moment, but as soon as it was over, I instinctually called my mommy. When the call wouldn't connect, presumably because the circuits were jammed and you're not supposed to use your cell after an emergency, I started having a panic attack. I full on hyperventilated, even after reaching my half-asleep mother. As the on-site representative of the property management, I probably should have ventured forth to check on the welfare of my residents. But… rum happened instead. I would have been no good to them anyway with my nerves frazzled to hell.

Pictured: My worst nightmare

Lots of people on Facebook were making fun of those of us who collectively lost our shit, even though nothing really of consquence happened. While I am a native Californian and this was not my first rodeo, earthquakes are my biggest fear. Really, all natural disasters. But earthquakes specifically because of my geographical context and the complete and utter lack of warning. Chances are, if a zombie apocolypse hits, there's gonna be some kind of notice sent out.

The next 24 hours after the Big One, I felt 5 aftershocks. The earth refused to sit still and let me walk all over it. By the last one, I ceased to be panicked and breathless, and started being annoyed. The best way for me to deal with my anxiety over feeling helpless is to switch into project mode. I decided to finally put together my earthquake/tsunami/zombie apocolypse kit that I promised my dad I would make when I first moved down to Southern California in August of 2005.

Girl Scouts Prepare
Me: Before, Me: After. Pigtails and everything.

It's weird to think about what kind of things may come in handy in an emergency situation. Of course, I packed the usual: first aid supplies, bottled water, the combination flashlight/radio/phone charger/siren I bought on a whim during an ill-advised late night Walmart excursion. Then I started looking around at the random stuff I have around my apartment that I ended up stuffing in the ugly, hand-sewn tote bag I made as part of a mother-daughter Mormon activity night.

Yep. I made that bag. With my own two 12 year old hands.
And you never know when you're gonna need a bullhorn.

1. A floral hammer with Russian doll nesting screwdrivers in the handle. An unironic gift from my amazing, late grandmother. I know that she would want me to be prepared in case things get primitive and I have to construct myself some kind of shelter. And still be fabulous at the same time.

2. Playing cards, because I assume waiting for help to arrive will get pretty boring without electricity.

3. Garfunkel & Oates lighters, which I got an inexplicably large amount of after a concert at Upright Citizens Brigade. I don't smoke, but I don't like to throw away potentially useful things. Plus, Garfunkel & Oates would be amazing survival buddies.

What's your zombie apocalypse book?
Chances are it's a hell of a lot different than your desert island book.

4. "God Bless You Mr. Rosewater" by Kurt Vonnegut. I've never read it, but I bought it at a library book sale for a quarter a few years ago and never got around to it. (Notice a pattern here?) I think Vonnegut is a good choice for zombie apocolypse literature though.

5. A change of clothes: old athletic pants that probably no longer fit, my bright yellow 'P' t-shirt from high school (Go Hillmen!), socks, and some granny panties. Because no one is gonna care what kind of underwear you're wearing at the end of the world. But they do care about school spirit.

Sadly, I couldn't find a picture of the legendary P shirt.
Do they even still make them?

6. Non-perishable food items: all I had was ramen, Costco tuna, and a can of nonfat refried beans for which I purchased a cheap can opener.

7. Toilet paper.

8. Notebook and pens. In case I get the urge to pen the great Post-Apocalyptic American novel.

Fun fact, in the original screenplay, Julia Roberts was supposed to be snorting crack, not flossing.
But that would have made a less peppy survival tip.

9. Various personal hygiene accoutrements. Because as Julia Roberts tells us in Pretty Woman, "You shouldn't neglect your gums." Not even after a major disaster. Seriously, dentists may be in short supply.

Guts & Glitter
I found a happy face made out of tampons. My life is now complete.

10. Tampons. Because your period may not be able to wait for FEMA.

After I was done with my kit, I felt an enormous sense of accomplishment. I took control over my destiny. And the universe will get no pleasure from fucking with me now that I'm prepared. And my dad couldn't be prouder. Unless I had fashioned the whole kit from duct tape.

PS. I think my kit needs a kazoo. And I just so happen to have a Garfunkel & Oates kazoo. Everyone is gonna wanna be my survival buddy now!

Playing Ketchup Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

As promised, here is the sequel to Playing Ketchup Part 1. Things get a lot cheerier in 2013. I decided to follow through on my recurring New Year's resolution to do more awesome things. So far, I think I've been doing alright. Here is a list of the cool stuff I've done:

1. I stayed in a hostel when I was in San Francisco visiting Eric. Even though I was only there for one night and I spent most of that night throwing up, it was still cool to harken back to my backpacking days. The tiny dorm rooms, the familiar silver Ikea bunk beds, meeting cool people from other countries (my roommates were from France and Germany), and the cute guy at reception with the adorable accent. I never get to travel for real anymore now that I'm broke and have a grownup job. Even though San Francisco was only a few hours away from my hometown and I had been there several times growing up, it still felt like a vacation.

That's my girl, killin' it!

2. I got to see my homegirl Kelly Bean in a creative re-imagining of Twelfth Night set in the Golden Age of Hollywood. Needless to say, she NAILED it! This was another mini-vacation all the way in Camarillo. Our best friend Jenna also came down from NorCal for the event. We needed a girls' night something fierce and celebrated afterwards with wine, cheese, and other delicious treats. We also watched "She's the Man," since you know, Twelfth Night. And if you haven't seen it, it's pretty frickin' epic. Tragic what happened to Amanda Bynes, isn't it?

3. I re-enacted the Ferris Wheel scene from Season One of "The OC" at the Santa Monica Pier. Check that one off the bucket list. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, don't even worry about it.

Damn good chicken and damn good waffles. Still not sure they go together.

4. I finally explored Downtown LA. I had never seen the Library, ridden the Angel's Flight trolley, hung out at the swanky Bonaventure Hotel (with the terrifying glass elevators!), explored California Plaza, and walked down Olvera Street. I also took the time to really check out Union Station and not just rush to and from the Gold and Red metro lines. I've always found it sad that if a place isn't on my way to work or not an Irish pub, I probably don't know it exists. Sidebar, I also finally went to Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles, another LA landmark.

Swoon!

5. SOCIAL DISTORTION!!!! AAAAH!!! I saw them once in college at the Disneyland House of Blues. And that was the last concert I had been to. Until I saw them again at the House of Blues on the Sunset Strip (Which is another area I've hardly ever been to even though I've lived in LA for years). I don't care if Mike Ness is as older than dirt and shorter than I am. I would do awful things with that man. Especially in his Machine Gun Blues gangster getup... We were about five feet from the stage which was super awesome except we were right in front of the mosh pit. I got kicked in the head by a crowd surfer, had at least six drinks spilled on me, and spent most of the time being knocked over. Soooo worth it!

This was at the Eddie Izzard venue.
I don't know what it is but I find it simultaneously terrifying and hilarious.

6. Eddie Izzard. What what??

Toepick!

7. Anaheim Ducks vs. the Los Angeles Kings. Hockey is the world's greatest sport. It has everything I love. Canadians. Burly men. Violence. It's glorious. Plus I was a Ducks fan sitting in a major Kings section. Gotta love crosstown rivalry games. It was a good one too. We scored in like the first 10 seconds, and then it was back and forth until nearly the end when we stomped on them. There was an insulting mass exodus of Kings fans when they realized they couldn't win and left before it was even over. (Sidebar, I'm usually a Kings fan, but the Ducks will always be Mighty to me thanks to Disney). After the game, we went ice skating at the Ducks practice rink in Anaheim. It turns out that skating is hard and dangerous.

I also shot at a zombie I named Hank. Because I'm also awesome.

8. LA Gun Club. Best. Date. Ever. Me and the Fella (oh yeah, did I mention there was a Fella?) got to shoot a Beretta handgun at a surprisingly popular gun range in the scary part of downtown that has also known visitors such as Queen Latifah, Exhibit, and Ryan Gosling. I'm not a great shot, and it felt a little like being in a war with so many guns going off (I left a bit shellshocked), but it really is a fantastic feeling. Amazing stress release. I have no interest in owning my own gun, but in a controlled environment it's AWESOME.

It's even cooler inside!

9. I saw Noel Cowards "Fallen Angels" at the historic Pasadena Playhouse. Oh the witty banter and the hilarious drunk old British ladies brandishing umbrellas at each other. I literally live around the corner from this beautiful historic theater and I had never ever seen it. I was also going to see Jekyll and Hyde at the Pantages, but I was too sick to go. Boo.


10. After my dear friend (and the woman responsible for my gainful employment) Allison, had her going away party (at where else but our favorite karaoke dive bar, Gabe's), I got stranded at Union Station at 3:30 in the morning. I had read the metro timetable incorrectly and missed the last train. I decided just to take a taxi, since it would take at least a half hour for the fella to come rescue me. I ended up waiting even longer than that for the taxi to come pick me up until I realized that I was on the wrong side of the station and that there were five taxis standing by the whole time. And I had to work four hours after arriving home at last. While this seems like a bad thing, Union Station after hours is truly a magnificent thing to behold. I got hit on three times (I must have looked like a fairly expensive prostitute I guess, though I didn't think my outfit was revealing at all), saw two people without pants on, and witnessed what I'm pretty sure was a drug deal. Fascinating I might have to go back on purpose sometime just to observe.

Meet CJ, the classy, blind, anorexic business fish.

11.  I bought a fish and named her Claudia Jean after my favorite character on the West Wing. Sadly, she died the other day because I can't keep a fish alive to save my life. Which is too bad because I'm not a cat or a dog person and cage animals like hamsters and birds freak me out. That leaves fish. Which are the least commitment possible. Speaking of low commitment, seven-day Betta food blocks do not work. Ask your roommate to feed your fish if you need to leave town.

I have this admittedly cliche poster on my wall and I was so excited to see that there was a statue of it! I tried to get homeboy to recreate the pose with me, but he would have none of it. Even after being shamed by a random Midwestern lady. Men are useless sometimes.

12. Speaking of leaving town, after living in Southern California since 2005, I finally went to San Diego for the first time. The fella and I decided to get the hell outta dodge and go exploring down Mexico way. (Without actually going to Mexico because despite being of Mexican descent, he doesn't have a passport and wouldn't be allowed entrance). Since we're both poor, kind of lazy, and didn't bring proper walking shoes, our exploration was somewhat limited. But it was lovely to take a Bridget Jones mini-break regardless. The beauty of San Diego is that it's so close, we can always go back. There wasn't so much pressure to fit in as much sight-seeing as is humanly possible, which is the speed I'm used to when traveling. San Diego in March is also bloody cold at night, which I also didn't prepare for. But I scored a $90 white Burberry-esque pea coat for $46 in under five minutes, so I think I just won at shopping.

I think this lists covers most of the awesome/interesting events of late. Basically it's a compilation of status updates/tweets/iPhone photos to serve as a memoir for a much happier time than the previous crap-tastic era. Let's hope the streak continues! Next on my list of conquering Los Angeles is to finally go to a Dodger game (or any baseball game for that matter. I'm a bad American for never having been...)