So I come home last night totally pissed off cuz I’ve had a humdinger of a day: went to the dentist and found out only AFTER paying $600 out of pocket that he’s out of my network. Well, he’s also out of his MIND cuz he thought I was going to pay $2000 out of pocket for my next visit. AND he doesn’t validate!! Creep. Then I had to deal with my psycho crazy neighbor upstairs who’s been threatening me and leaving harassing, illiterate notes to keep the noise levels down, when he is the f**k face waking me up every morning at 4, 5, and 6 am. a-hole! Did I mention I had a bad day? Well, poor Marisa had her blackberry stolen so we were both ready to kill someone.
As I strolled out to the living room to talk shit on our psycho neighbor, I peer down at our bar stool, and notice a pigeon sitting on it. It took me ten seconds to focus on the image blinking back at me and realize that the nastiest of the bird family made his way into our house and made himself comfortable! I had a rather silent scare, and whispered to marisa that a pigeon was in our house. She lept up from the computer hysterical, screaming and jumping. I started freaking out cuz I thought if we screamed it would peck us to death! Marisa tried to shoo it with her jacket, umm haven’t you seen Birds?! He was going to peck my face off!
Then I realized the little guy was docile and almost adorable. He was too fat to fly. And so sweet. He didn’t want to hurt us, he just wanted to chill in our dope pad. Can’t fault him for that.
So what did I do? What I always do when I need someone to do something for me. Called Scott. He came over in a flash cuz he rocks and lives 3 doors down. And after hysterically laughing at us, he cunningly swiffered the pigeon out of our patio and back into the wild.
I followed Pidgey out, got on my knees and saw that the green band around his ankle said 334. Didn’t know if he was a carrier pigeon like the ones from LOST, or some lost science experiment. (Later I was told he’s a working pigeon!) So I sat there with him for a little bit while he stood around not able to fly, realized he was sweet and with teary eyes, sighed and waved goodbye. I felt bad for the poor thing, and wished our little Pidgey well.
I came back in feeling a little forlorn and said, “Well at least he didn’t shit in our place.”
Except that he did. Marisa pointed to our bar stool, and that asshole crapped all over our chair! F birds.
Don’t ask me why but I don’t hate pigeons. And they’re rather fond of me as well.
Exhibit A
Thursday, May 24, 2007
So, am i going to get the bird flu now?
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Apolo Wins the Mirror Ball!
And I can’t say that I’m disappointed. Except maybe that people could make an award so tacky and god awful. Leila and Max ended up in 3rd. And if Maksim needs a shoulder to cry on, or a leg to feel up, he can call me. Or if he needs a naked rubdown or naked cha cha….you know, whatever will make him feel better.
Actually, Maksim Chmerkovsky (sounds like Bazensky) and Leila Ali came into our work 2 weeks ago to do a meet & greet for People Magazine. Where I coyly asked if he could teach me dance lessons (in my bedroom). He said he lived in NY (tear) and could refer me to someone. That totally ruins my whole him-lusting-after-me thing and dancing/falling in love with me Dirty Dancing/Girls Just Wanna Have Fun/Save the Last Dance/Dirty Dancing Havanna Nights (yeah, i said it!)/Step-Up style. (Side note: Step Up was absolutely horRENdous!! And I have EXTREME-ly low standards for my romantic dance movies!)
As delicious and hot as he is, Maksim’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, and he’s kinda arrogant and douche-y. Or a LOT arrogant, and overbearingly douche-y. Hello bright orange t-shirt, suit jacket, and matching bright orange sunglasses! Made my eyes bleed.
But no fret, Max (Maks?). Just keep moving those hips and being drool-worthy, and ignorance will be bliss once again. Congrats Apolo, job well done. I wanted him to win, and he deserved it! Now bring on So You Think You Can Dance, my most favorite dance reality show EVER!
R.I.P. Dance Life. Double sigh.
p.s. I did not mind at ALL when Maksim groped me all over for this photo op. I am mildly pathetic.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Stank Traffic
To the guy who stunk up all of the Wilshire/Sepulveda intersection and outlying areas during rush hour today: Dude, either roll up your windows, or ditch your heinous cologne! For the love of all Angeleno commuters!
Unbelievable. Here I am, stuck in traffic, minding my own business, shuffling through my iPod cuz it dawned on me that all 4 stopped lanes of Wilshire have heard me blast Belle & Sebastian's Another Sunny Day 6 times in a row, and now I'm kinda embarrassed – when all of a sudden I'm suddenly hit in the face with a disgusting whiff of some NASTY-ass cologne. So strong and so rancid that I repeatedly coughed and my eyes teared. At first I was in dismay that I was even close enough to another human being that I could be choking on their rancid scent. Then I was in even more shock cuz it kept lingering. It didn't seem to want to go away. Even as I drove. I kept looking around thinking that a cologne store might have spontaneously combusted in the middle of traffic when I wasn't looking. Good god, this was ripe and cruel! It didn't go away, and the suspects were many.
Let's check the line up:
The stank culprit could either be 1. the UCLA student rocking out in his truck (nah, I didn't smell Cool Water and plus his windows seemed to be closed) 2. the old man in the Prius (awwww, he's too cute helping out the planet, and he probably wears Old Spice anyway) 3. the metro business dude in the Audi (metros are too careful about their scents, and by the looks of it, he looks horrified by the stench as well) 4.the creepy old married dude in the Jag who still managed to eye me over like a slimeball as he yelled vehemently at someone on his Treo (dick) 5. the super vanilla guy listening to KBIG in what I could only imagine to be a company or rental car (windows are open, but I doubt he wears something with that much of a bold statement) 6. the dad in the Camry equipped with cigarette and my kid is 'fill in the blank 'bumper sticker 7. the hipster in the coupe (his odor is of a different origin) 8. the gangsta rapper poser in the Hummer (I can't even focus, cuz his stupid army car is too obnoxious for words - you could learn something from Old Prius guy) or #8: the Persian in the Mercedes. Ahem.
It took a good mile for the scent to go away. It's a miracle I didn't pass out. It was all a little too weird and unsettling. I guess I could have closed my sunroof, but it was too gorgeous outside, and my sunroof only closes when it rains.
As soon as the air and my car were odor free, my nose thanked me, the gagging presided, and turned to my trusty ipod and blasted Another Sunny Day.
7 more times.
