Tag Archives: culture

I told ya, baby… I’m a rockstar

Well, the big photo shoot was on Saturday.  It actually went really well for the most part.  I did all my prep before hand – tan, teeth whitening, mani/pedi, facemask… you get it.  Which was probably too much prep because it didn’t seem like any of the other girls did things like that, but it’s whatever.  I think it was good regardless for me to put some time and money into myself, because it made me feel better.

So I show up at the studio and as I’m walking around to the front of the building I see a photographer in the ally taking pictures of a girl sitting on a dumpster.  Oh, so that’s how this is going to be? I walked up and met the casting agent who cast me for the gig and about that time another girl walked up so we went in to get our hair/makeup done and met the rest of the girls.

Let me elaborate on who I was working with here… There was the heavy set improv actress/comedian, the quiet shy stood in the corner and didn’t say 5 words asian girl, the bubbly fun ditzy blonde, the older wise mom type who only spoke when she had something deep and heartfelt to say, the crazy haired urban token wild black girl, the sweet as pie blonde, the gorgeous REAL actress who is on tv, and me, whatever I am, “the new comer”.  

I walked in with an attitude of, “Okay, I can do this.  I’m stepping out of my comfort zone.  I don’t know ANYONE and instead of being recluse and shy I’m going to break out and make some new friends.”

So as soon as I walked in the door I told everyone how me and “sweet as pie blonde” accidently went into the wrong door and nearly got attacked by a giant vicious dog.  Everyone looked at me, didn’t say a word, and then went back to what they were doing.  Oooook, then.

As more people showed up the mood lightened, but sweet as pie and I clung to each other for the first half hour sharing our stories of how we came across the agency and what we wanted to gain from it.  She had been married for 8 years, was in her early 30’s and needed a hobby to get away from her husband and 3 kids every now and then.  The other thing I learned was that I was the only person in the group who is single.  As per usual.

Eventually, I got my hair done and it looked AWESOME.  It was like wavy/curly and beautiful. The make up? Not so much.  I didn’t have a chance to look at it before I had to go get my first round of pictures so I honestly had no idea how it looked, I just knew that the makeup artist layer caked it on.  The thing is, I’ve had my makeup professionally done a good amount of times and not once has anyone been able to do it where I thought it looked good, so I don’t know why I expected this time to be different.  I don’t know if it’s because I typically don’t wear much makeup or what, but because of my dark hair and eyes everyone takes it upon themselves to put the darkest colors ever on my face and those colors just flat out don’t look good on me.

So I went down to the ally to get my first round of photos taken.  When I went to change into the second outfit and looked in the mirror I nearly pooped myself.  The make up was AWFUL.  I was expecting the dark smokey eyes, which don’t look that good on me to begin with, but I knew she was going to do it.  She also put brown lipstick on me.  I just don’t know what would possess someone to do that?  Brown lipstick doesn’t look good on anyone.

Lucky said it best, “They put brown lipstick in samples because no one buys that shit” EXACTLY!

Honestly it looked like I had been down in the alley munching on a big turd.  Really.  So I wiped it off for the second round of pictures and put my pink lipgloss on, which looked better but brown lipstick is hard to get off, so I had turd colored residue on my lips for the rest of the shoot.  I am just still appalled at the lip color choice.  Ick!

Lucky suggested that maybe she was trying to make me look older, which is a good guess because I was the youngest one there, but I just don’t know.  Gross.

Anyway, once I felt like I looked like a human we went on to the beach to do the group shots.  It was pretty chilly and windy, but I think the beach pics will be good regardless.  They did have us rolling around in the sand, and I’m pretty sure there was a funeral going on about 50 feet away, but whatta ya do?

All in all it was a really good experience and I’m glad I did it.  The girl who does the casting was full of good info.  She’s one of those people that speaks what’s on her mind and 99% of the time it’s something hilarious.  She’s worked a lot in Hollywood and has been in a lot of movies and was telling us that she can walk into a room and tell everyone who they’d play in a movie.  I was the love interest/girl next door/secret geeky star wars fan , the wise mom was the smart always wins lawyer, the impromptu actress was the witty barista, the quiet asian was the secret serial killer, sweet as pie was the over emotional too involved mother… and she gave us all a part to play in our shoot too and even offered to let us use her name in the biz, because “she knows everyone”.

What really got me going was while we had a little bit of down time the actual tv actress was yammering on about all of the gossip with the other actors and actresses on the show that she’s on, which I thought was HIGH-larious.  If it were me, I probably wouldn’t have been saying that stuff in a room full of strangers, but being on the receiving end it was pretty exciting.  That is until she whipped around and asked me, “So what do you do? Are you an actress?” To which I had to hide my face and shame at all the other people who actually are actresses and make a living doing it and say, “No, I’m an accountant…”

All in all, it was a good time, I met some nice people, and got my foot in the door doing something that’s 1 million times better than sitting behind a desk with a calculator all day.  SUCCESS!

 

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11 weeks and 11 pounds

This week has been a real whirlwind for me, first because of all the unexpected contact with guys from my past over the weekend.  Then, as soon as I got to work yesterday I had a missed voicemail from my stepmom, saying my dad was in the hospital.  She didn’t leave much detail, only saying that he was bitten by a snake twice, he was ok, but would be in the hospital over night.

So I started to freak out and basically got nothing done at work yesterday.  It took me forever to get ahold of them and when I finally did they were just kind of ho hum about it.  Apparently my dad was with my grandpa at his country cabin and my dad was mulling around in a wood pile and when he pulled his hand out and it was gushing blood, swollen, and had 4 fang marks where the blood was coming from.  My grandpa had some kind of venom extraction do-hickey at his cabin so they tried that, but it didn’t work so they took my dad to the hospital where his motor skills were becoming slow and he was having trouble breathing… the works.

He didn’t see what kind of snake bit him, but they could tell from the side effects that it was venomous. He is ok, he gets to go home in the late morning and I still hate snakes.  I mean really… could anything else bad happen with snakes? Oh right, I forgot to mention that over the weekend when Betty was visiting she wanted to make sure the snake was in the cage and  we discovered that in fact it is not and Doogie has yet to inform anyone, but took the liberty of shutting off the heat lamp to save some energy and a few bucks.

So I told Anth that because of what happened to my dad it’s totally justifiable that I murder Doogie’s snake if it’s ever found…. and he told me that I need to reevaluate what is a big deal and what isn’t.  I mean…. my dad being in the hospital is a big deal, fucking asshole.  He claimed that me hating Doogie’s snake wasn’t a big deal because it’s a boa and it can’t do anything to me.  But, the simple fact that I could wake up in the middle of the night to that thing trying to choke me out because Doogie is so careless with it is plenty of reason to be afraid of it and want it dead.  I stand by my opinion – Anth’s an asshole!

Anyway… exactly 11 weeks from today I leave for Hawaii!! And that means I am getting down to the diet crunch time.  I’ve been slack assing on the working out because I’ve been super stressed at work, but I made the decision to make myself work out every day for the next 11 weeks and then after that I can go back to being fat.

So, if anyone wants to join my weight loss crusade I’ve done some research and here’s how it’s going down.  3500 calories = 1 pound.  But, you don’t lose a pound just by cutting 3500 calories out of your diet… it has to be a 3500 calorie deficit.  So you start with your resting (or basal) metabolic rate… I’m going with 1200 calories per day, but here’s a link to find yours in case you aren’t a 26 year old, 120 pound, 5 foot 3, female.

So every day my base calorie intake is 1200 calories, anything over is weight gain and anything under is weight loss.  To lose 1 pound a week I need to either burn 500 calories a day by exercising or only eat 700 calories.  So I’m going to need some ideas from everyone on low calorie foods that I can eat a lot of because only lazy days when I don’t want to work out I’m going to need some tasty ideas!

I ordered this Victoria’s Secret seashell/mermaid bikini

I was pretty disappointed last night when I tried it on and it didn’t look the same on me as it does this girl… so, operation lose a pound a week from now until I leave for Hawaii is in full force.  

Any dieting tips/staying strong advice/words of wisdom anyone has…give it to me!

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The return of every guy I’ve ever dated… and a Brit.

I’m just going to cut right to it, last week started off with a bang, Sunday night I got another text from Douchearoo:

“Thank you, just thank you for being so normal.”

I decided not to reply to this one, because really? Is this what he’s going to do every time him and his crazy pants girlfriend get into a fight and she throws stuff at his ugly face, or whatever it is that crazy pants girlfriends do?  I don’t need anyone to remind me that I’m not crazy, but thank you anyway Douchearoo.   I’m sure he feels like a big douche right now, as he should.

Monday, I got a text from Texas…. he’s baaaack, for good. I opted out of hanging out with him last week because I just need time to adjust to the fact that I’m going to have to start drinking during the week and that I might just have to throw in the towel and make out with him.  He seems all right after what I went through this weekend.

Saturday, Betty came for a visit.  We started drinking pretty much the second she arrived.  5 or 6 hours later we made our way downtown to a bar next to a concert hall.

We walk in, grab a seat, and start to suck down drinks when I hear someone walk up behind me and say… “Gizzy?” I turn around to see that it’s Snoop-Linus.  What. The. Fuck.  He pulls up a chair, is wasted and acting like a drunk asshole, pulls out a wad of cash and says, “I’ll take this to the store right now and buy you a ring, I’ll do it, and we’ll go to Vegas tonight.”  Um, good for you but I don’t want to marry you, or talk to you, ever.   But what I really said was, “What kind of asshole walks around with that much cash?  You’re going to get robbed, idiot!” He proceeded to tell me that he was at the bar alone, and was about to attend a concert alone next door, because his phone was dead and he doesn’t know where his friends are.  

Then, he ordered me, Betty, and the 3 old men to his right drinks, then got in a fight with the female bartender that ended in her buying him a drink.  And I was just flabbergasted.  At this point I got up, and said… “Well this has been grand.  Goodbye.”  Walked out of the bar grabbed a cab.  Of course he chased us out asking if he could stay at my place, if I would give him another chance, and if we could just talk in private for a minute.   Now, seriously, what the fuck!?  I couldn’t even say anything, I just got in the cab… there are no words.  

Yesterday I get a text from a number not in my phone saying, “I’m in love with you and never stopped loving you.  I would give you the stars and the moon if I could.”  I replied being all, “Uhh who is this?” and it was Snoop-Linus.  Apparently he lost his dead phone Saturday night and decided to get a new number.   I just can’t even be funny about this because it’s that stupid, what an idiot.

Anyway, after we dipped out on Snoop-Linus, Betty and I came across an underground tavern.  We went in and started playing a game of pool when these two guys in suits came up to us… 

One was engaged, one was not, one was 36, one was 29, one was cute, one was not, one was British, one was not, and they were both professional tennis players.  

That conversation went down like so, “What do you guys do?”… “Well, we’re going to sound like asshole’s, but we’re tennis pros.” Yep, you’re right.  You do sound like assholes.

Since Betty is basically married she took it upon herself to pair me with the 36 year old, not cute, single, british guy… I mean ok, his accent was cool and it was fun to talk to someone who has traveled the world and done cool things that I haven’t.  But pretty much as soon as I started talking to the guy he was saying shit about how we were going to get married.  Which I’m just like, have some tact man.  You’re british, you’re supposed to be classy.  

I mentioned mine and Lucky’s 30th birthday Euro trip, since he is from Europe he had some interesting things to say… he asked where we’d be going and I said, “Well we haven’t really talked about it, but probably some of your standard European countries/cities…. London, Paris, Italy…maybe Greece and Spain?”  Well, being a “pretentious European asshole” (his words not mine) he pretty much had to put his 2 cents in about everything I had to say about it.  “Ugh.. why would you want to go to Greece!”  “Ummm… because it’s beautiful.  That’s why.  I actually would like to honeymoon in the Greek Isles if I can ever meet a guy who isn’t a douche.”  Then he proceeded to tell me that he knows someone with “fabulous summer homes” in each of these countries that we could stay at.  I mean that’s cool, but #1 this trip is 4 years from now and #2 you’re not coming, so thanks for bragging but no thanks.  

The conversation from there on out got a little blurry because I was drinking heavily to avoid all that awkwardness… the next thing I remember him saying is that he’s from Wales and it’s like the West Virginia of England – I was wasted so I just thought that was down right hilarious and started saying, “Prince Harry of West Virginia!” in my finest British accent to everyone in the bar.  

THEN! The other guy’s fiance and her friend bust through the bar doors with massive chips on their shoulder.  With good reason, I guess.  They left and dragged the engaged guy out with them. So Betty, myself, and the Brit were left at the bar to drink.  The next thing I know after that I hear Betty inviting the Brit back to my place.   Which I don’t do.  I’ll hang out with strangers in a bar, but we’re not in college anymore – we can’t just be inviting random guys back to my apartment, but he came anyway.   I offered him a beer, apologized for the fact that I live in a frat house, and got into my pajamas as a hint to him that it was time to go.  He stuck around for a few hours and finally took the hint after I wouldn’t let Betty leave the two of us in the room alone, but not before he could get my number.  

Not 2 seconds after he walked out my front door he texted me, “Would you like to grab a movie or a bite on Monday evening? It was really nice to meet you tonight.”

I didn’t reply.

The next morning I get another text from him, “Morning! If you girls would like to come to the tennis club for breakfast this morning, come on in, it’s on me!” (The tennis place he practices at is like a block from my apartment.  Yay.)

4 hours later I replied, at 2pm.  “Ohh sorry, we just got out of bed.”

“No worries, I am jealous you got to sleep in.  I have been training since 6:30!  Can I call you later?”

I didn’t reply.

Later that night he texts me again, “Hey how was your day?  I’m bloody exhausted.  I was wondering if you’d like to grab a drink on Tuesday night?”

I replied yesterday morning saying, “My day was good, I have plans Tuesday night (lie) but thanks.”

He replied, “How about bowling on Wednesday?”

So I pulled the unthinkable, “I’m actually leaving for a business trip for the next week.” Another lie.  ECK!

So he says, “Safe travels, lets catch up next week.  It would be fun to hang out.”

I know that lying was wrong, but I don’t have it in my heart to tell someone that I’m just flat out not interested.  He’ll get the hint right? Betty was all, why don’t you just hang out with him and tell him it’s just as friends?  Because! Yes I know I am looking for friends, but I am looking for friends that are in my generation..and he’s 36, that’s 10 years older than me and quite honestly it makes me a little uncomfortable to even think about it.   I just came to terms with the fact that I might have to date a guy who is 30, so 36 is like really pushing it. 

Now, before everyone starts calling me an ageist and posting nasty things about me on your own blogs and start commenting saying I should give the guy a chance because love has no age and all that bullshit… Let me just say that this is my life and if I don’t want to get to know an old man I don’t have to and anyone who doesn’t like it can kiss my ass.   I’ll do what I want! Damnit!

Then I got a text from Dina yesterday begging me to come out with her and Sweater Vest next weekend, because “he really wants to see me”.  And I just realized that I’ve never told you about Sweater Vest…

Sigh

I’m tired.

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The Art of Being Single

Step 1:   Have a fuck you attitude toward the world.  

Step 2:   Don’t hide your flaws.

Step 3:  Date every asshole imaginable.

Step 4:  When you’re nearing a scary milestone in your life (30) plan a Euro-Trip with your co-blogger/best friend.

And if not….

Sunday night Lucky and I got to talking.  Yes our lives are boring, we hate men, our jobs are going no where, we have nothing to look forward to yada yada yada… then we came up with the most brilliant plan ever – Europe.  

3 weeks in summer 2015 Italy, Greece, France, Spain, England… we’ll be there celebrating our 30th birthdays.

 

So we are pretty excited about it.  We’re going to eat good food, drink good booze and get ourselves cultured.  We’re planning it four years in advance because we’re not going to backpack through Europe – we’re going to live in the lap of luxury.  And by that I mean we plan on staying in hotels and not hostels where we will get murdered and raped.   So we will be saving up our monies for the next 4 years so our fun Euro Trip doesn’t send us into debt.  All while all of our married, kid frenzied friends are spending their hard earned bucks on formula and diaper genies. 

 

We realize that four years is a long time.  But let’s be honest – 4 years ago Lucky and I were no closer to marriage and families then we are today, so we are pretty confident we won’t have to cash in our Euro fund for a down payment on a new mini-van. 

 

Traveling through Europe is something I have wanted to do for years.  I never studied abroad because I didn’t think I could last 4 months away from home, but I was always so jealous of those who did.  They came back knowing new languages, they had new life-long friends from across the country, they had stories of the sights they saw in different countries, and pictures of themselves with famous landmarks.   Finally – Lucky and I can live it up!

 

Anyway, I got yelled at and called a bitch this morning by a homeless man because I wouldn’t give him a new shirt in the backseat of my car and my lunch.  I see the guy at the same place every day, he’s always standing at the stoplight when I get off the expressway with a sign saying “Homeless: Need work or food.”

 

Living in the big city I see multiple homeless people daily – they all want money, free food, or a job.  Well don’t we all.  I mean yeah, I feel sorry for them because I know it’s rough out there, but 99% of the homeless people begging for money on the streets are just lazy.    So I pull up and every morning when I see this guy standing at the stop light with his sign I groan, because he’ll stand at the front of your car with his sign and stare at you expecting a hand out, but he’s never said anything to me until today.

 

He walks up to my car with his sign, I shake my head and don’t make eye contact.  Then he starts beating on my window saying, “Hey can I have that shirt back there?” I shook my head and continued looking forward, then he beats again, “Hey can I have the food in that bag (my lunch)”  I shook my head again and continued looking forward.  Then he beats so hard to the point where I was afraid the window would break and he says, “Hey give me one of those waters back there!!” I had the remainder of a package of water bottles in my backseat and there were like 3 bottles left.  I finally looked over, screamed “NO! GO AWAY!” and he walked away but not before saying, “Bitch.”

 

I’m all about helping people who are less fortunate then myself, but I’m not going to give handouts to people who just expect me to give them whatever I have, who are rude, and lazy.   I mean, I do NOT drive a nice car so it really pissed me off that this hobo thought he could walk up to my car and start calling out demands of things he wanted me to give him.  #2, my window doesn’t roll down – so I’ll be damned if I open up my door to give someone a damn bottle of water.  Every morning I get irritated with this guy because he stands there for hours upon hours asking people in the street for money instead of walking across the street to the 4 or 5 gas stations, Mcdonalds, Wendys, and Burger King and filling out applications. 

 

I get pretty annoyed at this group of girls that I see on my way home from work too, almost to the point where I have opened my door to say something to them because I want to tell them off.  But, I don’t want to get shot so I keep my mouth shut and my door closed.  These girls, usually 5-10 of them stand in the intersection before you get to the expressway in the street with Tupperware containers collecting money.  Yes, nice, EXPENSIVE Tupperware containers.  They are well dressed, carry coach wristlets, and are wearing new Nike’s and people are still giving them money. 

 

For a while when it was just 2 or 3 of them I thought maybe they were raising money for something, but as I’ve watched their group grow I have realized that they’re just standing there asking for people to give them cash.  And they usually do have their Tupperware containers full of dollar bills.  If my window worked I would 100% roll it down one day and ask what they are raising money for just to make them feel stupid.  But then again, they never come up to my car – because I’m a white woman and they can’t sweet talk me like they can the brothas.

 

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I’ll kill it. I will.

I don’t know where to start.   There’s 4 things on today’s agenda:

1. I got in trouble at work

2. I got in a fight with Anth

3. I dumped HOTTIE and shoved a fork in his eye.

4. I live with a snake.

But not in that order.  Although that order would make more sense then the order in which it all actually went down.

It all started a few weeks ago before I got the plague and was deemed terminally ill.  I was going home for the weekend for some good old TLC when I decided to stop and have dinner with HOTTIE on my way through.  All was good in the hood until a text popped up on his iphone.  (Iphones.  Blast!) It read:

Text Message WHORE #2

I know that since you’re all up to speed on your outdated Cocktails At Tiffany’s characters you’re sitting there thinking, “Wait a tick, WHORE #2 is a whore of Snoop-Linus.” And with those thoughts you would be correct.  Which is why I was instantly infuriated.  Not only was HOTTIE FULLY aware of my man hating trust issues, he also knew every last detail of what went down with Snoop and all of the whores, #2 included.  So imagine my surprise when I see her name pop up on his phone.  No, I didn’t grab the phone and speed off to the bathroom to analyze every text and then smash it like I wanted to.  I simply said:

“What the fuck is this shit?” (Now mind you, I normally don’t cuss when I am fighting with someone face to face because I think it’s tacky/trashy and we know I’m all about the CLASS.  So I was pretty much as pissed as a Gizzy can get.)

To which he said, “Oh what, WHORE #2? She’s cool, she’s my friend.  She probably wants to party tonight or something.”

Which left me with one choice.  To stand up and stab him in the face with a fork.   Kidding kidding.  Even though I totes wanted to.  But I did make a scene by standing up and throwing my napkin on the table and screaming, “FUCK THIS AND FUCK YOU!” And then I stormed out of the restaurant and realized my car was parked like 2 miles away.  I walked, because I’ll be damned if I was going back in there to look weak and say, “Umm hey, can you take me to my car?” Which is what he totally expected because it took him 2 weeks to call me and apologize.  But he did call.  Sunday – just in time for Valentines Day.

The conversation went down pretty much how you would expect.  He apologized for being the biggest douche on the face of the Earth and I told him an apology didn’t mean jack shit 2 weeks later and he could go live it up on drug island with WHORE #2.  He claimed she’s just a friend, I claimed she’s just a whore. He asked to see me again, I asked where he got the ring so that I could kindly return it, and he hung up on me.  HE hung up on ME.  Yeah wtf, that’s some BULL-shit!

So here I am back to square 1.  Anth feeling ever so sorry for me because I picked another winner and had a crying fit Monday morning when I realized one of our roommates has a boa constrictor living in his room,  (Which I am totes NOT ok with.  Anth claims he told me, which he absolutely did not.  It’s cool though, if I ever see the thing I’m going to kill it, which is what I told him. Don’t go all PETA on me, because I don’t care.  If it ever gets out of it’s cage, it’s dead.  End of story, there is no purpose for a snake in the city and I’m not going to get choked out in the middle of the night and served for dinner because this guy needs to feel like a “man” and own a snake.  No!) offered to take me out for Valentines Day on Monday so I got all ready, I even curled my hair and put on perfume, and then he stood me up.  Some words were exchanged, I went out to dinner with an ex out of spite (like Anth cares), went to work yesterday with what might be the biggest hangover of my adult career and got in trouble.

Here’s the thing, when I was hired and numerous times after that, my boss explained that we have “flex time.”  So we are allowed to come in anywhere between 7:30 and 10 and have to stay 7.5 hours then we can go home.  Last time I checked 9:30 was within those hours but yesterday I got in trouble for being late.  My boss said, “Next time call and let me know.”  I said OK, but lady – after what time do you consider me late? Because I’m pretty sure I was on time.  IDK.  I can’t take these old people.  They’re all senile.

So in case you were wondering Anth came home from work tonight and we played Jeopardy like it ain’t no thang.  However, I did find a pair of my shoes in the oven – so I’m not really sure what happened on Valentines Day while I was gone.

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