You may remember when I was stressing out about being on that new game show, Starface, and then how I went and sat around all day and didn’t even get on. Well, I went back and taped the episode, and it’s airing this Wednesday night, August 9, at 9:30 P.M. on GSN. BUT PLEASE check your local listings, because that might be the wrong time. Apparently it’s on an East Coast feed, whatever that means, so maybe it will come on at 6:30 on the West Coast? I’m not sure. Also, when I was checking my TiVo last night, I saw another show called Star Face, two words. I don’t know what that is, but it was on a different station, so make sure you search for the one that is ONE WORD: Starface.

I’m not going to tell you what happened, but I will say there is more to the story. Maybe this will make sense when you watch it; maybe not. I’m not sure what I’m allowed to say right now (I signed some scary lawyery forms saying I wouldn’t disclose the results, etc.) But anyway.

OH, and can I just say, What the H was up with my hair?! I NEVER wear it parted in the middle like that, but that day that is ALL it would do. UGH! I tried and tried to force my bangs into their usual sidesweeping motion, but they were not having it. So, while I may or may not have won that day, in the competition between my hair and me, the hair came out a clear winner.

Hope you enjoy the show! I haven’t seen it, so I hope I don’t regret telling you to watch!

P.S. Did I mention that Danny Bonaduce is the host? Yeah.

A while back, I was on my way to meet Jeff somewhere Hollywood-ish on a Sunday afternoon, and traffic was exponentially more ridiculous than it even usually is. I was all, “Whaaaaaaaaat the fuuuuuuuck,” and I called Jeff and was like, “What is up with all these cars, is there some kind of festival going on this weekend?”

“Yes,” he answered. “The Festival of Traffic.”

Since then, whenever traffic is on a larger scale ofridiculosity than the normal level of ludicrosity for no good reason, other than it’s super fun to sit still in a running car burning your hard-earned cash at the rate of $3.50 a gallon, we refer to it as “the L.A. traffic festival.”

So. I was feeling exra festive Monday afternoon, and decided I should try to get from my office in El Segundo to my acting class in Studio City at six o’clock in the evening (I usually don’t work on Mondays so it’s not an issue). For those of you familiar with the greater L.A. area, I don’t believe I need to expound on why this was the worst idea I’ve ever had. For those of you not so familiar, conjure up your worst stereotype of an L.A. freeway at rush hour on a Monday evening. Then picture me taking three of those freeways.

Luckily, I was able to while away part of the time on the phone with my scene partner, also on her way to class and stuck in traffic in a different part of town. We discussed our scene for a while and chatted a little about the traffic festival, deciding we would both probably arrive at 10, as class was ending. About half an hour later, at 6:47 pm, she sent me this text message, which prompted the ensuing text conversation:

her: If u get there let them kno im coming but im still not even 2the 101

me: I’m still on the 110 near downtown! Let’s race.

her: Haha deal. Im going zero mph right now beat THAT!

me: Ouch. I’m now going 15. Progress…

her: Dead stop. But i love traffic when i have 2b somewhere.i find it very relaxing. kina like meditation

me: Me too! Nothing better!

her: Haha see u at 10

me: See you then!

Oh, the traffic festival — always a good time. While participating in the festival, one fun activity is taking pictures of all the fun things the festival has to offer. I’ve made an album so I can cherish the memories. Click here to view it — and maybe I’ll see you at the next festival!

It’s adorable. We frequently go to an Indian restaurant — So frequently that they always get excited and greet us, and comment if we haven’t been back for a while. Every time we go, we order the chicken korma curry (spicy), okra masala (medium), rice, and naan bread. Some people grew up eating okra. Jeff did not, and therefore didn’t grow up pronouncing it either. So, before we order, he always asks me to remind him how to say it. Then he orders, and says it wrong anyway. He either says it with a short ‘o’ sound, like “Ah-kra,” or “Orca,” like the whale.

I find this positively delightful. It makes me want to go to the other side of the table and sit on his lap facing him, which I have done before in a restaurant when the occasion warranted, and smother him with kisses. I hope he never figures it out.

Last Friday night I went to see The Shins and Belle & Sebastian at the Hollywood Bowl with Rebecca and her friend Emily. (Is that a record for most links in one sentence? If so, is there a prize for that? If so, where do I collect said prize?) The bowl is always an excellent time. Rebex and I found great parking and got there in plenty of time to see the Shins, even though we were terrified that we wouldn’t make it all the way from work on time. We had wine and delicious picnic food, including various cheeses, the most delicious strawberries in the universe, and chocolate bundt cakes, which I stubbornly insisted on calling butt cakes.

Despite the good music and great company, as the night wore on I found myself getting fidgety. The show went from 7:30 to 11, and everyone was staying seated. Well, I had been sitting down for over 12 hours already that day, counting the commute to and from work. I needed to move around, dudes! And suddenly the best idea ever appeared like a light bulb over my head. I thought, I’d be so happy right now if I was on an exercise bike or an elliptical cycle. I could be enjoying the live music while getting a workout! So I determined that the best concert hall ever would consist of a normal stage and layout, but instead of seats it would have cardio machines, circuit training machines, weights, and mats for stretching. Now, you might say “But what about just standing up and dancing to the music?” Well, I agree that dancing is often a good solution for fidgetyness, but along with that comes people banging into you, spilling drinks on you, jumping in front of you and blocking your view, and the general ruining of fun. If we each had our own exercise equipment, we could all maintain our own personal space! And we could spin, run, or lift to the music! We would all be healthy and have hot bodies, and also be well-rounded individuals, due to all the concerts we were taking in. By George, I didn’t become a certified genius for nothing!

I spent all f-ing day sitting around waiting to tape Starface, and they didn’t even get to me. Now I have to go back another day! I’m just glad I wasn’t there even longer. I guess it could have been worse. As it is, I got an extra couple hours of free time, compared to my usual workday. Whatever. Now I’m at Jeff’s house by myself waiting for him to get off work, because he lives right around the corner from the studio and we’re going out to dinner tonight. I think I’m going to go downstairs and get some Famous Amos cookies! I know he has some, because his grandma always gives him ginormous bags of cookies from Costco. I love that woman. BTW, there were so many contestants today who talked about celeb gossip ALL DAY LONG. These people are obsessed, and are virtual wells of useless pop culture trivia. Useless unless you are trying to win a dream vacation on a game show about pop culture trivia! Blast!

Welcome to my new easier-to-remember blog address. Right now all I can think about is how nervous I feel. Tomorrow I’m going to tape a new game show called “Starface.” It’s pop-culture trivia, and that’s about all I know. I don’t know the format, they didn’t give us anything to study, it’s just me winging it. I meant to study Entertainment Weeklys and Sports Illustrateds this week, but I haven’t had a blessed minute to sit down and read a magazine! I bought US Weekly yesterday but all it had was the same old stuff about Katie Holmes, Jessica Simpson, and Angelena Jolie. Are there any other celebrities in the world? Because I haven’t heard about anyone but those three for seriously the last year.

Anyway. One of the “interests” I listed on my Friendster and MySpace profiles is “losing on game shows.” Because a couple years ago I went on “Shop Till You Drop” with my friend Eryn, and we lost so hard we practically went down in flames. But this one, guys, This one I plan on winning. The prize is a vacation package (hopefully not to Lake Mead, which was one of the many Shop Till You Drop prizes Eryn and I did not win). I need a vacation. Bad. Therefore, I really want to win, and therefore I am nervous. The thing is, the nervousness is what will kill me if anything will. I can be an expert on something, but when I get nervous my brain goes into top-security lockdown and won’t release any information without a complicated finger-printing, retina-scanning process, which takes a lot longer than the typical amount of time you have to answer something on a game show. Like, even super duper easy questions, like “What is your name?” Anyway, guys. I need to stop being nervous, and I need to win this thing. Please think good thoughts for me!

P.S. I just returned from my lunch break, at which I rushed to Sephora at the Manhattan Village Mall and had a whirlwind session of looking for some foundation so my face doesn’t disappear on camera, and chose among 3 kinds that all looked bad to me, but the girl said the one I got looked good and I was out of time so I got it. I hope it looks good. Plus, and this is the worst thing, and it’s all my fault because I’m a horrible procrastinator: My eyebrows are a complete disaster. Like, awful. I called my lady today hoping to get an appointment tonight after work, but not only is she not available, my backup lady is also unavailable! What am I going to do? I’ll tell you, and it’s terrible. I have to pluck and trim them myself, which I am horrible at. No matter how thoroughly I think I’m plucking them, they never look neat when I’m done. What can I do? Do I trust someone new with my brows? They might ruin them! Can I go to my lady in the morning? It might work if my show gets taped in the afternoon, but if they tape it in the morning (and i have no way of knowing in advance), my eyelids will be all red. No, I don’t think either of those are options. I think all I can do is try and pluck them myself. Shoot, shoot, shoot!

P.P.S. Don’t forget to think happy, winning thoughts, and pray with all your might. I want this vacation!

I’ve just posted some new photos in my Flickr account from the 4th. Check ‘em out. I went up to the roof of the Bel Age Hotel with some friends to eat, drink, and watch fireworks. Although there wasn’t a huge fireworks display nearby, we were able to see them exploding all across the horizon, which was a cool new way to enjoy them. Jeff’s roommate Mike was our bartender, and we ended up getting away with lots of free drinks, as if it weren’t payment enough that we got to laugh at his funny little shorts and polo shirt uniform. Dang, why didn’t I take a picture of that?!

My British friend Virginia came to celebrate our country’s victory over hers, and pointed out how amazing it is that we’ve built all this in 230 years. (”We” including me, of course, because I have built a great deal of this country with my bare hands)!

In other news, Missy has moved to New York, which is sad for us, but happy because she booked a 3-year contract role on All My Children. She’s been in town this week packing up. On Sunday we all drank mimosas and talked while she packed. Here’s Jeremy and Missy doing a coreographed scene from a musical about packing. Good times.

In one last piece of news, This Just In: Working in an office sucks.

So last week I was listening to KCRW on the way home from work, and they started giving out tickets to a show called Mortified, which involves "everyday adults reading aloud their most embarrassing and REAL teenage diary entries, poems, letters, lyrics and locker notes… in front of total strangers." So I called in, and after a couple tries with busy signals, I got through!  Except that in order to win something from KCRW you have to be a member, and I lost my membership card like the first second I got it, if I ever even did get it, so the radio dude got my name and put me on hold saying "I'm going to put you on hold, so have your member number ready," but I was in the car! But very close to home!  But I didn't even know where my card was, if it was at home!  So I started saying, "Ohhhh, Keep me on hold! Keep me on hold!"  (Probably the only time that phrase has ever been used in history and the last time it ever will).  And he did keep me on hold for a few minutes, but not quite long enough!  So when he came back I was like, "OHH, I'm in the car, but I'm almost home and I don't have my card! Can you put me back on hold?"  (Again, words that have never been uttered and never will be again). And he said he'd call me back, so I raced home, ran upstairs to my room and proceeded to tear it apart like a rabid wolf searching for food or fresh blood or whatever rabid wolves are likely to search for.  And I didn't find the card, but once my room was torn apart from corner to corner and everything that had previously been "put away" was now "scattered about in the middle of the floor," I found something KCRW had mailed me, a program of upcoming events, and it had my member number on it!  And the guy called me back, and I gave him the number, and all was right in the world! And I won the tickets!  And the best part is, I went last night and took Jeff with me, and it was AWESOME.  It started with a play called Material Girls, about two 8th-grade best friends, which was brilliant and terrifying in that I completely saw myself (more like my sixth-grade self) in the characters.  And then came the part where people read their embarrassing stuff outloud, and they were so funny that I was laughing so hard tears were pouring out my eyes, and my abs were burning!  It was unbelievable!  There's one more show tonight in LA, and then they go to New York (with different everyday people reading their stuff).  Y'all should go!

P.S.

I once also won a fleece vest from the UNC student store for guessing the weight of a giant pumpkin.  I just figured it weighed a little more than me, so I added 20lb. or so to my weight, guessed, and won!  The vest happened to be a men's XL (uh… thanks, guys), but I gave it to my dad and he loved it.

I'm just going to come clean.  I can be a jerk sometimes.  If I'm ever a jerk to you, though, just know that I will beat myself up about it for days, weeks, months, or years, depending on the severity of the jerkiness.

My most recent incident of jerkiness happened a couple weekends ago.  I was setting out on a hike at Runyan Canyon with Rebecca, and while walking up a residential street on the way to the park, a guy up ahead let his dog poop right on the sidewalk and didn't pick it up.  This is a common problem on that street, and you always have to watch where you step, and the street stinks at all times.  Anyway, I saw the dog poop, and I saw the guy not pick it up, and without warning, out of my mouth came, "Nice. Thanks."  It was kind of at a shout, since he was a good 20 feet ahead of us, and it surprised him, Rebecca, and me.  What?!  I don't shout at strangers, unless I'm in the car and they've just committed an extra rude traffic faux-pas.  It just came out of my mouth, and I couldn't believe it.  Anyway, so he turned around and got befuddled, and tried to explain that he didn't have a bag, and then he just stopped and looked at me, waiting for me to answer, but I didn't, because I was just as surprised and befuddled as he was, and we just kept walking toward him, and then he turned around and kept going ahead of us, and we walked in silence for several seconds until I turned to Rebecca and whispered, "This is going to be an awkward hike," at which point my hair began to fall in my eyes, and I was only too happy to have an excuse to stop and fix it while letting the guy get farther up ahead of us. 

So I fixed my hair, slowly, and then we proceeded on our way, and as the shock of my behaviour subsided, in rushed the guilt and remorse at having spoken so harshly to someone who, yes, was doing something annoying, but who may have had a good excuse.  I don't know, maybe he had two bags but the dog pooped three times and he was out of bags.  Or maybe he had just run out of the house with the dog after a bad fight with his girlfriend and had been too upset to remember to bring a bag and hell if he was going back in there now, or maybe she had even locked him out.  The point is, I didn't know, and he seemed like a nice guy, and I could tell he was embarrassed, and I felt like a big, fat jerk.  Combine that with the fact that I was nigh on PMS, and for much of the hike I was trying not to cry because I felt so bad, and I looked and looked for him so I could apologize, but he was nowhere to be found.  I have no idea where he disappeared to, but he was gone.  So, I did the only thing I could do in this situation: I put an add on Craigslist Missed Connections.  Here's what I posted:

I Fussed at you at Runyan today (Sat.) – w4m – 27

---

I saw your dog poop on the sidewalk, and you didn't pick it up, so I yelled, "Nice. Thanks." You seemed befuddled and tried to explain that you didn't have a bag with you. A few seconds later I felt really bad. I decided I wanted to apologize, but you disappeared. I'm so sorry! That was really rude and unlike me, and you seem like a really nice guy. I hope I didn't completely ruin your hike, or your walk with your dog.

I got 3 replies to the post, but unfortunately not from the guy — although all of them made me feel a little better.  Here they are:

Number One: The inevitable Craigslist pickup attempt, complete with photo of him and his dog:

I'm not the guy….but at Ruyan all the time…..I like that you took the time to apologize!!  If you see me..say "hi!"  I promise, I'll have a bag.

(Don't worry, Jeff, I didn't reply)!

Number Two:

hi, i'm not your missed connection, but i wanted to say that i'm glad you yelled at that guy. don't apologize for that. people like that are always trying to get away with it, and they need to be scolded publicly.

thanks!

fellow dog poop hater
los angeles, ca

And My favorite:

I live in that neighborhood. You had every right to give that guy "shit" pun intended. He knew he didn't have a bag when he took out his dog. But rather than have his dog crap on his carpet, he crapped on my sidewalk.  Don't feel bad about criticizing that guy, I probably stepped in it on Sunday.  When you take your dog on a walk you should have a leash and a plastic bag… no excuse.

So there you have it.  I still think I was a jerk, but if three strangers think otherwise, I guess maybe I'm being a little hard on myself.  Lessons learned: Never speak to strangers while having PMS, Craigslist can be relied upon to ease one's conscience, and Always carry a poop bag for your dog, or face the unleashed wrath of the Minton.

Yay! It finally feels like Southern California.  Jeff and I ushered in the gorgeous weather by spending Memorial Day weekend with his family, along with lots of friends, in Laguna Beach for their annual wine-tasting party.  The weather was perfect, and good times were had by all.  Click on my Flickr badge over on the left side of this page for a photo diary of fun!

P.S.  Eric is sending me photos from his camera, many of which I took after my battery died.  They are pure awesomeness, so be sure to check the photo album later for some new additions.

Update: Check out Eric’s blog to see his photo diary of the weekend, and go visit his Flickr page for “deleted scenes.” Just be warned, some of the pictures of me in both locales will give you a good laugh at my expense!  

Shortly after Jeff and I started dating, we were driving down the road and spotted a guy in a Porsche.  "What do you think of those?" asked Jeff.

"What, the Porsche? Gross."

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know, I don't know, I just always think of guys in Porsches as old dudes having midlife crises, or cheesy guys trying to compensate for something."

"Like what?"

"Um, you know, short man's complex, small penis, whatever."

"Really?  What if I drove one?  Would you be embarrassed to ride with me?"

"Um, Yes!  They're so cheesy and lame!  They're so cliched, it's ridiculous!  Whenever I see a guy in a Porsche I assume he's an arrogant asshole who's trying to cover up some insecurity!"

"Well, what about the older ones, like the 80s ones?"

"Gross, those are the worst of all!  It's a guy in a white leisure suit and wrap-around shades, with some dumb vanity plate that says 'Smokin'' or 'So cool.'"

Do you see how he led me into this trap?  How he asked me those loaded questions, so that three weeks later when I visited his parents' house for the first time and saw in the driveway not one but two, yes: two Porsches, one shiny new one and one that was smack dab out of the mid-80s, can you see how I could feel a little bit like sticking my foot in my mouth? 

Evil. Just evil. 

I was reminded of this lovely milestone in our relationship the other night when he, Eric, Mike, and I piled into the 80s Porsche to go get some dinner.  He's borrowing it while his car is getting some routine maintenance. And I have to admit.  It was fun, DESPITE that while in the front seat my life continuously flashed before my eyes the whole time, since Jeff was pealing around on the street like a cheetah out of hell, and on the return trip I sat in the back seat with Eric, a seat that was so tiny even my tiny butt didn't fit all the way back in it, and my head now rests at a permanent ninety-degree angle on my neck. But anyway, no, I have to admit: it's really, really, cute, yet also masculine, just like Jeff — heehee!  And riding in it is fun, especially when we blast 80s tunes and wear sunglasses at night. 

So I can change my mind, and admit when I'm wrong and have wrongly judged a person, place, or car.  See?  Live and learn, my friends. Live and learn.

Oh, and P.S. Now they have three.

Why do I keep buying those microwave Lean Cuisine meals?  They taste delicious, but they do not make me any less hungry than I was prior to eating them.  I'm serious — I would expect them not necessarily to fill me up, because it's not a lot of food, volume wise.  But I sat here eating one today and I literally felt NO less hungry after I finished eating.  I was still every single bit as hungry as before.  Now I'm in a tough situation, because Jeff is taking me out to dinner tonight at Lola's, which we used to go to all the time but haven't in a while, and I plan to eat a lot of food, including their amazing mac & cheese, and also to drink my favorite alcoholic beverage of all time, their canteloupe martini.  However, I'm starving to death now!  Do I eat something now and risk not being hungry enough later?  Or do I sit here wasting away until dinnertime, which by the time we're eating will be 8:30 at the earliest?  At least I'll be a cheap date!  I'll probably be drunk after one martini!

Cheers to that!

By the way, I just re-read this post and realized that a huge number of my blentries are about food.  I'm going to have to create a food category!

I like how the kitchen gets warm and humid when the dishwasher is running.

I like the way the sky looked at dusk last night — still baby blue, with white fluffy clouds, but with a depth to the light that marked the difference between evening and night.  Not dissimilar to the ceilings in the shopping areas of Las Vegas hotels.

Oh, this is a good one:  A couple weeks ago I was sitting on a low stone wall waiting for a friend, and a woman with an adorable little fluffy black dog walked by.  When the dog passed me, he did a double take and tugged on the leash, demanding an opportunity to say hello.  I petted him, and he instantly fell in love with me and didn't want to leave.  Even after she pulled him away he kept looking back at me.  He couldn't get enough!  I like that a lot.

And bubbles come out!  Haha, Got You!  Really, though, get this: It wasn't a belt that had slipped loose.  It was the water pump. and the timing belt. and the thermostat. and about five other things, ringing up a grand total of… fourteen hundred dollars.  That's $1400.  One thousand, four hundred smackers.  In case you didn't hear me, I'll tell you once more that the repairs for my car cost one four zero zero.  1400.  At least I saved money on gas by getting rides to and from work all week.  I will need those pennies to buy myself food, as my bank account is now sadly much emptier than it was last week at this time. 

I make it sound bad for dramatic effect, but in truth this hasn't been much of a hardship at all, and for that I'm extremely thankful.  I've gotten rides to work, my dad helped me foot the bill (although I still forked over a healthy chunk myself, mind you), and I'm so relieved that I was close to work when it happened.  In any case, it is humbling to realize that although I may think of myself as totally independent, in truth I rely on people a lot.  And yet, realizing that those people are there to help, are happy to help, that I have that support system, is liberating.  It's a pretty amazing paradox, I think.  So maybe it's good to fall a little sometimes, just so we can feel the safety net that is right there, ready to catch us, and we can be grateful.

So, on my way to work this morning, thankfully at a red light right outside my office building, my car suddenly started to squeal and whine, like “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” and stinky, burning smoke (as opposed to non-burning smoke) started billowing out of the hood. At first I thought it was someone else, because my car is reliable, dammit! My car is never the smoking, screetching car. But this time it was, and I was like, “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” And I turned it off, and I was in the lane going straight, but the left turn lane next to me got a green arrow, so I turned my car back on and leaned out the window and looked as pitiful as possible until a truck let me turn left in front of him, and I went in the side entrance of my building and parked, and grabbed my stuff and got the hell out of there in case the car was planning to catch on fire. It didn’t, though I guess I wouldn’t know because I didn’t stick around to find out, but anyway, wow, that was scary, and I’m so glad I was already almost here or I would be stuck somewhere in maybe-not-the-worst-but-certainly-not-the-best-either part of town, waiting for AAA and having no idea where to tell AAA to tow me. But instead I’m at work making money, which will surely come in handy for whatever repairs will need to be done, and waiting for my co-worker Steve to give me the name of his trustworthy mechanic, and it can hopefully all be taken care of while I’m here, although I’m not crossing my fingers. Steve said it sounded like a belt had slipped loose, and I hope that’s all it is, because I don’t exactly have a new car budget set aside. And interestingly, I just got an oil change last weekend. Hmmmm….. could Jiffy Lube have done this? In any case, here we are, and there you go. I feel like such a young adult. A young woman caught in the rat race, working an office job and dealing with car problems. It’s like an initiation into the American Experience. Gross.