Celebrity, etc.

Today I sold a turkey to Diana Ross.

Faye Dunaway asked me for the time.

Yesterday, I observed Kirsten Dunst to eat a chocolate from the bulk bins. Stealing a chocolate. In pink converse.

And finally, last week I saw Leonardo Di Caprio, who departed Whole Foods in a large BMW. Not a hybrid. Fraud.

In conclusion, I miss truly crappy weather.

Funnestness

Alt+Clicking at the New York Times Website.

Tips
To find reference information about the words used in this article, hold down the ALT key and click on any word, phrase or name. A new window will open with a dictionary definition or encyclopedia entry.

This is awesome. I want the whole world to be like that.

Christmas shopping, joyous new finds

Etsy is my new obsession. For those unfamiliar, it is a virtual bazaar of all things wondrous and handmade (and bargainful!). I purchased a most beautiful umbrella print, and am eagerly scouring the site around the clock for presents.
I can not begin to tell of my excitement in finding such treasures as a burnt Patti Hearse lamp, or perhaps a Derrida onesie. Look for yourselves, and, crafty friends, sell your wares!

Nasi Bungkus

Bill and I sampled Indonesian cuisine at our local Indo Cafe. It was supremely delicious, and I ate something called Nasi Bungkus. Unfortunately, I learned that Nasi Bungkus basically means wrapped rice, which so totally does not describe what I ate today.
Bill and I were also complimented on our spicy-eating, which of course, made us feel totally special.
Anyway, here is a picture of Nasi Bungkus. It is insanely cute, even if the name is pretty vulgar.

longing?

i don't know if it's because of lack of fun in my daily life, but for some reason, i am driven mad with longing for a Nintendo Wii. I just know that I have to have it.

New Experiences, bad.

For the first time in my life, I live below someone. Someone who apparently has some sort of incredibly loud menagerie, with things like stampeding antelopes and perhaps a handful of elephants. They are new to my building, and I miss the old, silent, above-me residents.
I think they now have chimpanzees jumping on some sort of trampoline. I can't be sure, but it's mighty loud.
One of the words that greatly pleases me is "misspellings." Blogger assures me that I have none.

For some reason, Bill has held off on posting on my eminent greatness as a girlfriend. I baked cinnamon bread yesterday, and, if I do say so myself, it tastes and looks just like real cinnamon bread. And, at the estimated cost of about $.50 a loaf, definitely trumps the cost of purchasing speciality bread at the grocery store. However, it is messy, and cleaning is Bill's job. Perhaps this is why he is not singing my praises to the moon or whatever.

Yes, my new hobby on my days off is "baking." It's not my preferred day off activity, as it's not as fun as drinking, shopping, etc, but it is more productive. And sadly, I have yet to acquire any friends in Los Angeles of the girl-persuasion, whom, let's be honest, are vastly preferable to friends of the heterogametic sex. Possibly this is the first time I have used the word heterogametic. I will continue to do so.

one of the things...

People from Los Angeles (by this I mean those that feel some sense of ownership in this bizarre city--which basically means anyone who has lived here longer than me) like to do this crazy bait and switch thing, where they ask you about your celebrity sightings and the joy you must take in their proximity, and then, when you express any interest at all in continuing the conversation, announce their total indifference to celebrity while recounting their own Julia Roberts sighting at Starbucks that very morning.

Of course, since virtually all of my readership lives outside of Los Angeles, I will now talk about all the celebrities I have thus far seen.

1. Guy who plays Uncle Vic on Queer as Folk.
2. Ed Begley, Jr (see a few posts ago).
   
3. Less-hot Doctor on Nip/Tuck (hotter than expected, to be sure).
4. Emily the crazy one on 90210 for one season (Christine Elise is her real name).
5. Thora Birch (on the red carpet at the AFI Film Festival).
6. Debbie Mazur (also at AFI).
7. Guy who plays John Abruzzi on Prison Break (in track pants, cheap slip-on sandals with socks, and a "Superlative Conspiracy" t-shirt). We had a passing-the-time at the check-out line conversation. I am glad that I did not make a joke about Whole Foods superlative turkeys, as I see now that Superlative Conspiracy is merely a brand.
   

In any case, I've just passed the two-month point with life in LA. So this is where I stand. The only celebrities I have recognized without assistance have been Emily from 90210 and Uncle Vic. I need to work on sharpening my eyes.

Progress

I made bagels. I'm not generally a baker, and I've never journeyed into the world of yeast, so this is a pretty big deal for me. They taste good, but don't look so pretty. I'll try again another day. They are topped with chives (from my garden), garlic, and pecorino.
Here they are:

Yes!

Congress is like, totally the Democrats' oyster. I hope they eat it raw.

Montana, cool now?

How flipping rad is it that Montana elected a musician/organic farmer to Senate?

I mean, sure, it will be like, slightly hilarious when Tester shows up for the first day with a banjo and buckwheat, but will be so much cooler than the guys who show up in sport coats and playing-it-safe Cole Haans.

It's about time you claimed your excessively large state as the kingdom of hipdom--after all, your ladies have been tucking their jeans into their boots for decades. So, Montana-- the new Vermont?

As expected, oblivious.

Today, I met my first celebrity.
As a part of my new position as "Marketing Assistant" at Whole Foods, I had the opportunity to attend a product expo, where I sampled about a million different organic products. Not only did I get a recycled wood fiber toothbrush, and a variety of new age beverages, and a whole half-pound of the divine La Tur cheese to take home, I also responded with dubious ambiguity to a celebrity's offer to demo his product in my store. To be fair, my dubiousness had nothing to do with the celebrity (whom I didn't recognize), or the product, merely my unwillingness to make a commitment as I am new to my position.

So anyway, I came home with my assortment of goodies (including some truly disgusting quinoa cookies that Bill liked, in a radical departure from his typical "more fat the better" mentality) and pointed out that the maker of "Begley's Best" looked familiar. Bill said that the name Ed Begley was familiar, so I did the whole Wikipedia thing, and alas, Ed Begley, Jr.

All the more ridiculous in my inability to recognize Mr. Begley is the fact that I have seen him in literally dozens of different shows. From Happy Days to Arrested Development, Six Feet Under to Seventh Heaven (yes, I occasionally...), Best in Show to The Smurfs, Ed Begley has been a part of my life for the past 25 years.

So, I'm sorry, Mr. Begley. Your product seems outstanding, and you were totally down-to-earth when you were offering to come to my store. I should have recognized you, and thus avoided speaking with you. And I loved you in This is Spinal Tap.

Last Meals

So, prompted by some last-season Prison Break watching, I have been pondering the concept of one's last meal. It appears that the state of Texas used to post the last meals requested by their death row inmates online. The list can be found here. Fascinating stuff, really. The list consists of primarily hamburgers, fried chicken, and steak. Specific soda requests are common, as are ice creams.

Of course, this all makes me wonder about my own last meal. The death row inmates don't pay much regard to menu planning: pizza with stir-fried beef, chocolate cake, ice cream, broccoli, grapes, 10 quesadillas and more (Jessy San Miguel, executed in 2000).

On one hand, I'd be tempted to request pad thai, chicken paneng, Papa John's hand-tossed with pineapple, chocolate mint ice cream with york peppermint patty mixed-in, vegetable samosas, chevre cheese, nectarines and Coca-Cola. I think the above constitutes a fair representation of my favorite foods, but, for a last meal? I mean, would gorging myself on all my favored flavors give me the requisite level of satisfaction, or would I be better served by creating a real meal?

Ahh! It's an absolute nightmare. I am giving myself a headache planning my theoretical last meal.

I suspect I would enjoy an exquisitely executed (ha! puns!) last meal, but how could I turn my back on goat's cheese, or pad thai? I'm afraid I could never decide. Thus, I would end up with a massive stomach ache before my extermination, OR, the better alternative: I am never executed.

$10, 3-hour haircut

yeah, i'm pretty excited about it. whoo hoo vidal sassoon academy.

messages

So, my birth control comes with a label saying that I should not take it if I am trying to become pregnant. This is the first time I think I have gotten this particular pharmacy sticker. I wonder if the pharmacist thought that this would be an amusing addition to the "take with modest meal," "some antibiotics may lessen the effect..." and "may turn your urine funny colors," or if someone has really deemed this message necessary. I suspect it's the latter.

In other strange-message news, I am currently temping and the previous non-temp version of me was given the axe. She has two little epigrams jotted on a notepad: "You can't fail if you don't give up!" and "Never trust anyone!" Hmm.

suckas...

While the rest of you fools will be voting at libraries, schools, and other unspecial places fitting of your dull, non-Los Angeleno lives, I will be voting at the Culver Hotel.

That's right. My polling place was once owned by John Wayne, and housed the Munchkins during the filming of the Wizard of Oz.

Ha. Ha.

$5.50 and the poorer for it.

Why, why, did I spend $5.50 to send a fax, only to end up with some creepy guy claiming to be a lawyer calling me on my daytime minutes?

Why don't I know how to send a fax, free, through my computer? Surely this must be possible...

Why didn't I check the number on the confirmation?

Now, I must do one, or perhaps a combination, of the following things:

• Temp tomorrow, and try to hop on their fax machine, violating my temping rules on the very first day of employment.
  
• Wait until Saturday when I will be able to go to mom & pop print shop (they have, of course, mom & pop hours), and get my $5.50 back.
• Find some other place tonight to send a fax from... like, the grocery store? Kinkos is not close and they are mean anyway. Where does one send a fax from, if not the mom & pop print shop on the corner?
• Drive fax to location--not close, but equidistant to the Kinkos.
  
• Abandon fax entirely and not write freelance articles for toy magazine that didn't offer me a real job.
• Demand cookies from friends not located within the Pacific Time Zone.

Disaster!

One sad thing has happened since our Los Angeles arrival (actually, more than one--but I'm not counting parking tickets).

Bill and I accidentally bought the orange-flavored toothpaste. In bulk. We have 6 tubes of Aquafresh Orange toothpaste. It's like brushing your teeth, then drinking orange juice. And we'll be doing it for the next year.

Friends & Countrymen...

I have returned from a monopoly-imposed hiatus. After much battle with TimeWarner, I am now restored to home internet life.

I just ate tamales from my local farmer's market, have an herb garden on my balcony, and had an interview for my dream job last week. Things are looking pretty good, though my mouth is burning from my tamale consumption.

You may now consider California Ruth open for business.

my weather is better than yours.

Well, Bill and I are no longer homeless. That is pleasant. We have an apartment now, which is filled with mostly good things and too-tall cabinets. Otherwise, happiness and joy.

We have a good location, close to many restaurants, etc. Also close to 'the studios.' I haven't seen any celebrities yet, but I have seen more cars worth over $100K than I have in my whole entire life. It seems probable that famous people drive them, but that may be my midwestern naïveté talking.

So, these are all good things. Bad things include the fact that I will likely still be unemployed upon turning 25. However, last year I turned 24 unemployed and living at home, so this year is somewhat of an improvement.

at 4:59 am

So, last night I woke up to Bill beating me. In his sleep.

No, we aren't talking about the rolling-over, arms-splayed type-beating (that's more my m.o.).

What happened was this:

I am asleep. On my stomach.

I wake up. Bill is straddling my back.

He hits me, and says "there's someone in the room."

I am freaked out. My semi-aunt, with whom we are staying, does not really lock doors, and our ground-floor window is wide-open.

It becomes apparent to me that Bill is still asleep. I say, "do you want to shut the window?" He grunts, un-straddles me, and goes back to sleep, while I squint, contact-less, at shadows.