In my mind, I am taller. My mental pictures owe a lot to Photoshop, apparently. I’m svelte, sophisticated and statuesque inside. The fact that no one in the history of time has ever thought the word “statuesque” in relation to someone like me is probably not shocking to those of you on the outside. To
I’ll admit that I’m oddly fascinated with the concept of this website: http://www.whatsyourprice.com/ I’d like to say that I have my finger on the pulse of the dating scene, but my dating scene is more corpse-like than vivacious and thriving. Luckily, I have friends like Pen to introduce me to the newly terrifying ways of
My magical mystery tour of Los Angeles has continued. Today’s tour stop: Compartes Chocolatier in Brentwood. If you are a chocolate fan, this place is your nirvana. Not only is the chocolate amazing, but you can actually watch it being made right there at the facility. Also, an incredibly nice man brought me chocolate to
I innocently wandered into a store today and admired a pair of jean shorts. They were longer than the typical shorts, which I can appreciate since I’ve never had the assets of a Blake Lively or Cameron Diaz. I justified the purchase with the fact that they were on massive sale. I grabbed a couple
Many of these euphemisms made me laugh, and I figured some of you needed the laugh today, too. Returning to work after long weekends can be hard. I am here to help. Also, I had no idea #5 was from Othello. I’m not sure it’s going to make me cringe less if I hear it
Wishful Thinking: An hour after I quit my job, my future path will be clear. Reality: Oh, it’s clear alright. It’s clear I have no idea what I am doing. Wishful Thinking: When I quit my job my apartment will be immaculate. Reality: HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. Seriously, I
Anyone else would have embraced the opportunity presented: a room full of industry people actively hoping to form a network of writers, directors, producers, actors and more. Lovely setting. Early enough to not be confused with clubbing. Anyone would have taken the opportunity to put out a hand and make some introductions. Anyone except me.
It’s 3:00pm. I’m drinking a glass of red wine and watching the sequel to Center Stage. I’m not finished with the credits yet, but it feels remarkably like the Step It Up movies, and I’m left wondering who is going to utter the immortal words: “I am the best goddamn dancer in the American Ballet
I’m sitting in a dance studio– not any studio; the studio. I can’t begin to count the hours I spent in here– required hours, stolen hours, all hours. Sense memory took over as I walked across the floor. Same creaks. Same smell. Same sense of wonder even if age has made some of those possibilities
I have three red shirts in my closet. For most people, this is probably not a stunning development. For me, it is practically as revolutionary as the color associations have been. I have black clothes, and when I want to spice it up, I move to gray or tan. Seriously. I’ve flirted with blues, but