Crazy cat lady buys chocolate eyeballs

I went out driving today. It was fun actually. I have a good instructor who seems to think that not only am I not a BAD driver but I'm actually a good driver. I think she's just happy she survived the ride and would have said anything to get me to give up the wheel. I'm exaggerating a little bit, of course.

I'm worried that I'm slowly going crazy. Having no friends means having no social life so I've been going to the gym, watching movies and taking meaningless walks up and down Charleston Boulevard. I know this will eventually change the longer I'm here and I'm normally big on alone time. HOWEVER without some social activity soon I may lose it. I've been talking to myself a lot. I bought some paper jack-o-lanterns and some bags of Laffy Taffy and chocolate eyeballs and now I'm just praying for trick-or-treaters -- so I'll have someone to talk to even if its just to say "So what are you supposed to be?"

I've already looked up adopting a cat. I found a cat adoption place that is a short bus ride away. Of course, if I get one cat I might as well get two so the little muffin has someone to play with. And then I have to find out if you're allowed to take the cat carrier on the bus. I think I'm gonna do it, though, become a cat mommy. Hopefully I won't turn into one of those crazy people and start throwing birthday parties for the little fellas and baking them little tuna cakes. The other night I caught myself talking back to the judges on Dancing with the Stars so I'm not far away from becoming that crazy cat lady as it is.

What Nevada Day means to me...

Happy Nevada Day everyone! Today is Nevada Day, otherwise known as roundabout the day that Nevada officially became a state. It actually happened on Halloween but the state legislature thought it might be a good idea to give people another three-day weekend. And I couldn't agree more. I spent Nevada Day in my jammies watching True Life and drinking tea. Because I am intrinsically a lazy person. If I had been born during the pioneer days and it had been left up to me, Nevada never would have even be discovered to become a state. The other pioneers would have found me napping in the covered wagon and kicked my lazy ass back to Utah... or wherever the Nevada pioneers came from.

I went out for my first afterwork happy hour last night. Some girl I've met three times is moving to Phoenix so some of us office folk celebrated her departure and wished her well with giant margaritas and taco chips. The three times I met her she was very nice and I don't know anyone here anyway so I went. The margaritas at Agave are HUGE. That stopped bothering me after one of the office bigwigs pulled out his credit card. Suddenly two or three of those bad boys didn't seem so hard to handle. 'Cuz they was free.

I have absolutely no other plans for the rest of the weekend other than driving lessons. Pray for my neighbors please. They have nice cars and I can just see myself hitting one of them as I pull out of the complex.

Everything sounds better with "a go go" at the end

Michael invited me to brunch at Hash House A Go Go. I highly recommend it but keep in mind two things before you go. 1) They stop serving at 2:00 pm on Sundays and don't reopen for dinner and 2) they serve portions that could choke a horse. A horse and a goat and possibly another horse. Whatever -- enough food for several farm animals. Great big bloody mary's, too, which made me very happy. One of Michael's friends is from Jackson Heights. He totally knows all the places I know -- he's even a fan of Jackson Hole. If you're in New York and you're hankering for a burger the size of your head, that is indeed the place to go. The one on Astoria Boulevard is also the same diner that was in the movie GoodFellas.

It was nice to actually leave my house on a weekend. Mostly I hang out compuslively watching the kitchen counters and watching bad movies. Not because I'm a crazy shut-in but because I don't know anyone here yet. I spend a lot of time at the gym on the premises. There's never anyone in there so it's like my own private work out room. I even sing while I'm on the treadmill. I probably just jinxed myself and the place will be packed the next time I go in. Hopefully no one will walk in the next time I'm busting a move while listening to A Tribe Called Quest on my MP3 player. That would be pretty embarassing.

Next weekend my driving lessons start so as to prepare me for my driving test in early November, after which nobody is safe. I pray I don't kill anyone. Driving seems to come so easily to everyone else.

Mace might be a good investment

The last time I purposely stayed home on a Saturday night is a distant memory for me. But I don't know anyone here yet so I'm sort of on my own. So I went to the supermarket to buy super important cupboard staples (ginger snaps and black olives) which was my only semblance of a social activity so far this weekend. It was kind of social actually because some guy followed me from aisle to aisle until I stopped, turned around and stared at him until he went slinking back to the cheese display. Maybe I should buy some mace.

I love watching the news here because every single network has the same backdrop -- the Strip -- which makes it look like the super important news from cartoon-land. Newscasters look less serious with a faux Eiffel Tower behind them.

Have I shared my bus stories with you guys yet? No? Here's one. Yesterday I thought I had a meeting first thing in the morning on the Strip so I prepared to take the three buses there. On the second bus I noticed a tugging on my hair after I sat down. I turned around, saw a seemingly harmless looking toothless woman. So I turned back around, went back to reading my book, and she proceeded to pull my hair every thirty seconds for the next ten minutes. As I disentangled myself in order to get off to catch the third bus (corner of Rainbow and Flamingo -- even the streets here sound made up) I saw I had a voicemail from my boss telling me not to come, the meeting had been cancelled. So I rode with hair puller for nothing. Well, not nothing. It's made for something to tell you people.

On a nice note, my boss and I were supposed to go and see Toni Braxton the other night. It was inexplicably cancelled but my boss took me to Sushi Roku instead. Sushi was okay but the view was incredible. I highly recommend it. When it's not propped up behind newscasters, the view of the Strip is freaking cool.

Welcome CBs

My friends went to see RHCP without me. I was supposed to go -- they were MY tickets after all -- but I had to go and move to Vegas. Jessica was nice enough to call me so I could hear the raucous "Can't Stop" along with her. She assured me that, yes, John was cute as a button and she loved him much more than she expected to before she got there. I love to be able to convert others to the religion that is Frusch Worship.

Did you guys hear that CBGB is coming here? Weird. Fun and fabulous Vegas is. Let's see if punk rock history has a role here. I hope it doesn't become like Hogs & Heifers -- used to be a legit bar in New York but in Vegas it's a tourist trap, albeit still fun. I'll let you guys know what happens. I'm kind of happy about it actually. It's like one of my old friends is moving here.

Selling organs on The Strip

I know that I'm a girl... well, last I checked anyway. But I get an awful lot of enjoyment out of Harold & Kumar go to White Castle. Funny funny funny. Even though I hate White Castle.

I'm broke as a joke. I owe the cell phone company and the cable company and I have NOOOOOOOOOO money. Not a little money. NO MONEY. There isn't even any change in my couch because it's brand spanking new.

So what shall I do for money short of selling organs? Peddle my skanky ass on The Strip? Sell my valuables? Stop eating till my paycheck clears? Any and all suggestions are welcome.

Leaving excitement behind

All of my stuff from New York arrived. YAY! I spent the whole day unwrapping bubble wrapped items, putting things away -- stuff like that. What an exciting life I do lead out here in the Wild Wild West! So Saturday night I'm sitting here watching 8 Mile (again), thinking about the exciting life I left back in New York... well, more exciting than this anyway. For instance, the first time I saw 8 Mile it was because I was invited to an advanced screening, and I sat behind Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins. Ah well. I have a nicer apartment here. That's something.

I walked to the bank and Von's and Starbucks today, proving that one's legs do work in this land of speeding autos. It's been raining a lot. RAIN IN THE SOUTHLAND! Who knew?

Anyone else been watching Survivor? I think it is sooooo wrong that Jonathan is competing, considering he probably still makes residual checks from the crappy TV shows he did over the years. He does NOT need a million dollars as much the nursing student that got kicked off this week.

Can't look away

Living alone is scary. I have no one to shake awake to tell them I think there's someone hiding in my closet. Not that I ever did that. Noooo, not me. If you know my old roommate, John, and he tells you some story about me looking for the "killer", empty handbag in hand with which to bludgeon him in case I found him under the bed... well, he's making the whole thing up. That never happened.

Work is still good. They seem to think that I'm, like, smart and know stuff about PR. WHERE did they get these crazy ideas? I spoke to my boss on the phone -- he's in Germany on a European media tour. He seems to think I'm going to catch up on all the projects we're working on in no time. But he was jet-lagged and just back from a beer hall when we spoke so let's wait and see what he thinks when he gets back to Vegas.

On a lighter note, the girl in the cube next to me is a HUGE Yankees fan and she is just as sad as I am that the playoffs were cancelled this year. They were, too, cancelled! If they weren't cancelled then explain to me how they completely ceased to exist for me as of Saturday night? Ah hah! You can't explain it. Stop trying to talk sense into me. I'm beyond help.

I just got an email from Tina about Adriana's birthday party which I will be missing YET AGAIN. I used to miss it every year because I was always on a press trip in October. Now I went and move across the country. I can't catch a break. The email made me wistful and a little homesick. I really like it here so far. But I miss New York and my friends and my family. I guess that's only normal. On Adriana's birthday, instead of being drunk with all of my friends at Croxley's Ale House , I will be listening to Stephen Baldwin speak about becoming a born-again Christian. No, seriously.

Let me explain. The chick who used to live in this apartment was apparently an uber Jesus freak and all of her mail came to me. One piece of mail was a flyer to hear Stephen Baldwin talk about the changes in his life since he chose to accept Jesus Christ as his personal savior. I cannot resist -- I must check this out! It's at the high school down the street from my office so I'm going to go and check it out. It's the same reason I always watch when I'm flipping channels and I happen upon Kirk Cameron's preachy TV show. It's like watching the alien in the movie rip his face off. You want to look away but you just CAN'T.

Transportationally impaired

I can't believe I live here. It's very cool but very odd at the same time. Today was my first day of work -- I arrived yesterday. My dad picked me up at the airport, drove me to my apartment, took me to Target to buy stuff I forgot to get last time -- like a lamp and shoes for my first day of work (long story). He took me grocery shopping and then he hung out here all day with no visible source of entertainment to wait for the cable guy to show up. He did -- I have TV. It's a lot less lonely in the apartment with the sound of canned sitcom laughter, let me tell you.

My first day was awesome, albeit overwhelming. Everything is so different in a corporate environment. First of all, I've never worked with so many people before -- this company has 166 people in the Vegas office ALONE. Everyone was so nice to me. I think I'm going to like working there. You know, until they figure out I'm a big stupid fraud and fire my ass.

I'm still on New York time so I'm a little sleepy and slightly disoriented. If anything funny happens to me on the way to and from work in the next couple of weeks I will highlight it on this thing. But being "transportationally impaired" means my social life will be pretty non-existent for a while. Thereby making me less interesting. Thereby making this blog downright boring.

Last day musings

Please send positive thoughts to the Yankees? They're killing me right now. Maybe they're sad that I'm moving. D'ya think?

So today is it. The last day. I don't live here anymore. I'm sad and excited and jumpy as hell. My mom invited my whole family to her house for pizza and beer. My kind of party. If you're in the Astoria area and you want to come for a slice, lemme know.

I am so tired of talking about leaving but that is all anyone can talk about, understandably. I'm freaking out all of my friends, also understandable. Last night was Adriana and John's wedding, which was a wonderful excuse to do two things -- 1) see all of my friends and get drunk with them one last time and 2) wear a pretty party dress. Adriana and John looked very happy and we were all ecstatically happy for them. They're such a cute couple. I've known Adriana since God was a child -- I'm happy she found John. He's ADORABLE and he loves her to bits and pieces, just like I do.

My other favorite couple, Kristin and Chris, were there. Chris gave me yet another reason to believe he is the best possible match for my Rydell. They're getting married next year and he waxed poetic about how happy he is that she is his fiancee -- it was actually genuine, though, not sappy and put on to impress her friends like some men I know have been known to do. I love when my friends meet GOOD people to settle down with. And we all know that it is VERRRRYYYY important that I approve of who you choose to marry, dear readers. Very very important.

Go Yankees!

This entire blog is dedicated to the New York Yankees because desperately need good things to happen for them before I leave New York for good and it's out of my hands. Positive thoughts, people. Positive thoughgs.

Does everyone love how I posted a blog about "What Motley Crue song are you?" No? Well, bite me!

GO YANKEES!

I saw Chloe from Project Runway in Bloomingdale's the other day while I was buying an overpriced dress for my friend's wedding. Very uncharacteristically I went up to her to tell her that I loved her and then introduced her to my mother. She looked frightened. Frightened and very, very short. I'm so cool.

GO YANKEES!

I called several of the companies I owe money to to tell them that I'm moving and give them my new address. I was told that the computer doesn't recognize my new address and, in fact, the computer said that the street I claim to live on in Las Vegas does not exist. This does not bode well.

GO YANKEES!

Jessica's boss entrusted her with his paddle at a charity art auction last night. She was allowed to bid up to $15,000. Jessica. My sister. Someone trusted her to spend $15,000 of their money. With my help. I was of no help. But the aucitioneer was John from They Might Be Giants so that was cool. She didn't get the painting.

GO YANKEES!

Afterwards, I forced her to go to The Half King, which is one of my favorite bars in New York, followed by McFadden's, one of my least favorite bars in the world. But Kathy Katherson was there so we had to go. Hi Kath!

GO YANKEES!

I can't believe I only have two days left in New York. It's freaking me out! Any advice, dear readers? If not advice, do you have any tranquilizers that I could take on the plane? Because I'm freaking out now. I can only imagine what I'm gonna do the Jet Blue crew on the way there.

The last time I drank sangria

I'm a little sad tonight. Mostly because I'm a little drunk tonight. And "drunk" almost always equals "melancholy", especially when you are leaving the only city you've ever known to move somewhere where you know no one. I had drinks with Emily and Katie at Mosto and then, after putting a very tired Em in a cab and parting ways with Katie (for probably the last time) on 2nd Avenue, I wandered into a CD/DVD store that was still open at 10:00 pm and a sense of sadness overcame me. One does not wander into late-night record stores in Vegas. My twin sister and my mom do not live in Vegas. Katie and Emily and I will not have dinner on a random Wednesday in Vegas.

I walked to the subway, then to my mom's house, and I passed the tree-lined street that leads to my grammar school and the church where I made my First Communion and I realized that something I had said to Katie earlier that night was truer than I knew it was while I was saying it. The last time is the last time whether you know it or not. When you break up with someone you don't know the last time you are having sex is the last time -- or the last time you kiss them or eat at a restaurant with them or wake up and have coffee with them -- any last time doesn't really present itself as a last time. Unless you plan it. And if you plan it, it's not really the last time. It's a version of the last time you created in order to say goodbye to something -- like breakup sex. Leaving New York -- the city I love and the city I love to hate -- is a bit like going through a breakup. A breakup I initiated.

So the last time I did all of the things that made my life in New York so great, so memorable, so comfortable, so whatever - well, they happened and I misssed it. I might not have even enjoyed them as much as I would have had I known I would never do them again. They might have even happened before I announced the big move.

Deep thoughts brought on by sangria and cold chicken cutlets. Tune in tomorrow for caustic, witty Louise. This sad sack version is going to bed now.

Turn signals are very important

My official last week in New York has officially begun. Shortly after waking up my first day back (yesterday) I went to my cousin's 40th birthday brunch at Cebu in Bay Ridge. Great restaurant if you're just willing to drag your candy ass all the way out to the next-to-last stop on the R train.

The party went on at the same time as the 3rd Avenue Festival out there during which my 7 year-old nephews saw their first drag queens. Then Nicholas, the blond one, looked up at me and said, "Aunt Lula, will I ever see you again?" All together now... awwwwwwwwwwwwww! He told me he's coming to visit me tomorrow to see the pool in my apartment complex and the Grand Canyon, in that order. (Kids and their priorities -- swimming pools trump natural geological wonders every single time.) I explained I wouldn't be living there yet tomorrow but he was not to be dissuaded. Maybe at 7 years old tomorrow means any day in the future. I certainly hope so otherwise he ran away from home today to go sit in Kennedy airport.

As we were driving to and from the party through LIC I had another,"What the fuck am I thinking?" moment. Why am I leaving here? New York annoys me sometimes but its the greatest city in the world? Every culture is represented and, even in Long Island City, there are places to get Turkish coffee, vintage clothes and pizza on like EVERY street. It's New York -- make it here and you can make it anywhere and there's a reason that traffic is so bad and apartments are hard to come by. It's the crossroads of the world and I love it.

But then I was watching a commercial for the Comedy Festival that's coming to Vegas in November and I remembered that I'm going to a city with a palpable sense of excitement in the air where events are always happening and people are loathe to go to sleep for fear of missing something. Vegas is like that. You can meet people from all over the world just by strolling down the Strip. Once you leave the Strip, a sense of normalcy pervades the city -- well, if you consider it normal to be able to play slots while you are waiting for your prescription to be filled at CVS. And, yes, we all do live in cookie-cutter condo complexes out there but the people are anything but cookie-cutter. It's the West, where there is lots of space and warm weather and people who look you in the eye. It's not New York but I think I'm gonna like it. If I could just teach them all to signal before they change lanes, life will be good. (Anyone wanna hear the story of me hitting the tire of a cement truck on Flamingo Boulevard?)

My friend Diane is making me dinner tonight which should be nice. Before that, I have to go buy a suitcase for the rest of my clothes. I brought two huge suitcases with me when I was there last week but I still have more clothes. Katherine used to say she shuddered to think of the amount of clothes that were stuffed into my closet here in New York. She will be happy to know I have a walk-in closet now. If it doesn't all fit in there I officially have a problem. I have so much to do this week but top of the list is seeing anyone who isn't sick of my ugly mug so let me know if you want to grab a coffee or lunch or a cocktail this week and I will do my best to make it happen.

Who's a muff'n?

Have you guys seen the latest issue of Guitar Player with cute little John Frusciante on the cover? I wish I still played the guitar so it wouldn't be quite so weird that I bought it. But I had to. In addition to a large photo of the Frusch (reason enough to buy any magazine) the article has the word "muff'ns" in the headline. Now is that fate or what? Everyone who knows me knows that I call people that I love "muffin". And I love JF so I would call him "muffin" if we ever met. Granted, the use of the word "muff'n" in this particular article was referencing a type of distortion pedal but whatevs. I think it means that I was meant to hug JF and make him a sandwich and call him "muffin", as I always said that I would if we ever met. And now I live much closer to him than I ever have before -- Vegas is only 4 1/2 hours from LA, I'll have you know. This sort of makes not being able to see him in concert with my friends in October not as horrible. Well, not really.

Did I mention I'm jet lagged and my ears haven't popped and I'm not making much sense right now? Yeah. My ears hurt. I love John Frusciante. I have a headache. I live in Vegas now. Short declarative sentences. That's what I can handle right now. I'm going to go watch Detroit Rock City and then go sleepy sleepy.