Archive for October, 2003

No God

Published by
julie
at October 28, 2003 in Uncategorized. 3 Comments

It has been there for months. Written on the Econolite electrical box on the busy sidewalk outside of our bathroom. Every time I hang out at the bathroom sink I stare at it and wonder.

“No God” it says.

What does it mean? No God in the schools? No God in politics? No God anywhere? There is no God? Is that the name of yet another crappy new band?

I constantly consider changing it. But then I have this vision of going down to the street in my pajamas and using a sharpee to write over it. Just as I begin to make my lone stroke of the pen, a police officer rides by and gives me a ticket for defacing public property, and suddenly I am in front of the judge, still in my pajamas, fighting the $1,000 fine that I acquired just because I wanted to defend My God. He doesn’t understand. But in some scenarios he thinks its funny. But still gives me the fine.

I finally muster up the courage to do it… I did it! And with nary a cop in sight. After all, we are Brentwood-adjacent. Of course, I could get a knock at the door at any second. Why is my heart pumping? What a dork. It wasn’t a big deal.

But it is to me. I go to the sink, and for the first time stare out the window with satisfaction. For a moment, I am a Crusader for the Cause. A sort-of-vigilante for God.

Where it once says “No God”, it now says something much better. A little encouragement for everyone who walks by. I turned something ugly into something positive and beautiful with just one stroke.

Its out with “No God” and in with “Mo God.”

I am a stinkin’ BRAT

Published by
julie
at October 21, 2003 in Uncategorized. 1 Comment

After years of trying to pretend it was otherwise, I have decided to come clean with the fact that I am an impatient brat who is prone to ridiculous little temper tantrums when things don’t turn out the way she envisioned them. This has become evident in the past few weeks since I have started using the creative side of my brain once again. The side that had pretty much been dormant since college.

You see, years of being trapped in jobs that didn’t stimulate me in any creative way has afforded me the illusion that I have learned to control this pretty strong part of my personality. By simply never being in a position where I had to create something, that is. Now that I am in design school, I am being challenged regularly. Frustratingly so. Yikes.

The other night, I was working on a self portrait for my intro to drafting class (just to get us back into the drawing mode, I suppose), and things were going quite well for the first hour and a half or so. Satisfied with my progress, I took a break and revisited my work that evening. That is when I noticed my left eye. My damned left eye was drastically different from my right eye, and unless I was suddenly Shannon Dougherty, it had to be corrected. So I took out my “trusty” kneaded eraser and proceeded to erase a near-hole where my left eye used to be. I started to sweat. Then I felt something like a fiery inferno start in my chest and move upwards, destroying everything in its path. I wish I could say that I kept the tantrum to myself, but husband Rob was witness to it. And now he intimately knows that hideous part of my personality. Ugh. So I figured that I should come clean to all three of you who read my blog: I am a total brat. And I get so stinkin angry with myself, its quite a sight to see. And hear.

Once I calmed the “you suck” voices in my head and on my lips, with much help from Rob, I was able to sit down and salvage the drawing in about 20 minutes. So much so, that Professor Larry took MY sketch book and walked MY portrait around for the whole class to see. This was how to draw a portrait. Yes… validation.

But empty validation. It was tainted by all that I had done to myself, and all that I had portrayed to Rob, to get there.

I envisioned myself sitting on the 3rd Street Promenade with my easel and pencils, drawing portraits of tourists for $20 a pop. What would happen if I erased a near-hole where their left eye should be? Would I jump up and throw a tantrum about how much I sucked? And what if Rob wasn’t there to calm me down? Help! And why am I drawing portraits on the Promenade, anyway? The money sucks. I don’t even like the Promenade. Its way too congested, filled with people like me.

Tragically, this scenario repeated itself with Project #2. And will probably continue to do so for a while, until I learn to control it. I keep wondering whatever am I going to do when I have kids that I inevitably will not be able to control? Those poor yet-unborn little guys. They are going to be so screwed up. I weep for their future.

By the way, you have undoubtedly deduced that I am hyper-critical of myself. You don’t even want to know what I think of you.

Just kidding.

I SAW J.D. I SAW J.D. I SAW J.D.

Published by
julie
at October 18, 2003 in Uncategorized. 3 Comments

Its not often that I get “star struck” when I see a celebrity. At least that is what I like to tell myself. But today, I am happy to report, we were dining al fresco at Quality on 3rd Street in West Hollywood, (great grilled veggie salad, but the way) and HE walked out of the restaurant.
Before I even recognized him, my eyes fell on the concave stomach of his dining partner. I immediately wondered if she ate any bread. No way you can maintain a stomach like that on a diet consisting of bread. Or pasta… Or any kind of sugar… Or any kind of carbs, for that matter. Then my eyes fell on the half eaten biscuit on my own plate. Shame. I once again pondered the “toned body vs. enjoyment of food” debate I constantly had going on in my head: is it better to live on a restricted diet and love your body, or is it better to eat whatever you want and love your life?

The thing is, I could probably have a pretty toned body if I wanted to make some sacrifices. In fact, I have had one at one point or another in my lifetime. The time when I was eating no bread. Or pasta. Or any kind of sugar… Or any kind of carbs, for that matter. Was I happy? I don’t remember. But I do remember not realizing how fit I was at the time. In fact, I didn’t realize it until years later when I saw some photos from that time in my life. I wondered why I didn’t appreciate it more. Say, walk around naked in public more often… but it wasn’t enough then and it probably wouldn’t be enough now.

A few months ago, a friend I hadn’t seen in about a year and a half greeted me with “You’ve gained weight. I guess that’s what marriage does to people.” I am going to pretend it was because she had last seen me right after I had run a marathon and, hence, was at an impossible-to-maintain weight. I am also going to pretend she was not being a tactless uber bitch for saying something like that. Furthermore, I am going to choose believe that thing my mom always told me when I was growing up - about people saying mean things because they are jealous: she is obviously jealous of my post-marathon weight gain. She should BE so lucky.

We have Ben and Jerry’s in the fridge. Coffee Heath Bar Crunch (hands down the best ice cream ever. period. exclamation point.), plus some Peanut Butter Cup (the runner up), and Cookie Dough (which tastes like medicine to me). I wish I could say that I wasn’t achingly looking forward to indulging tonight, and won’t be quickly shoving down my turkey burger in anticipation for what comes next. But it makes life sooooo much more enjoyable. Doesn’t it?

And that woman dating Zack Braff/J.D. from Scrubs? She is probably starving right now. And miserable. And wishing she were sporting some post-marathon weight gain. Jealous.

Isn’t Scrubs nearly the best show ever? I mean, I almost peed my new velvet pants when I saw J.D. walking out of the restaurant. Why don’t people appreciate it more? Where was their Emmy? Not even a nomination? Hello???

Justified

Published by
julie
at October 15, 2003 in Uncategorized. 3 Comments

Given the chance, I fear my husband would leave me for Justin Timberlake.

Its all Saturday Night Live’s fault. Since they had him host the other night, Rob cant get enough of him. Its Justin this, Justin that. The likes of “Rock Your Body” and “Senorita” can now be heard reverberating from our apartment at any given hour.

I admit it. Justin Timberlake was a most excellent host. It was enough to make you forget he was ever in the Backstreet Boys…or was it Nsync? (Heck, maybe they were good all the time?) And kinda understand why Cameron Diaz would date someone nine years her junior. In my book, she is no longer slummin’.

In fact, he was as good, if not better, than some of the regular prime time players. Stole every scene, from playing Ashton Kutcher, to Robin Gibb, to that guy in the omelette suit. Definitely hilarious.

Which brings me to which will no doubt be the first of many blog lists: The best SNL hosts ever…or at least since I can remember…since Tivo…

1. Alec Baldwin (obviously)

2. The Rock (Tune in and just try to argue with me. The guy can sing!)

3. Queen Latifah

4. Rob’s own Justin Timberlake

Some of the worst ever SNL hosts:

1. Adrian Brody (I am still sooo embarrassed for him)

2. Robert DeNiro

Since SNL, some comments that have been heard around our household:

“I can’t believe Justin he was booed off stage recently. Who would DO that? He is AWESOME.”

“Trey said that he thinks Justin’s album was the best R&B album released last year. He is AWESOME!”

“Justin can do Human Beatbox! He is AWESOME!”

“Justified is a wicked stupid name for his album.”

At least he is maintaining some kind of control.

Queer Eye Rules

Published by
julie
at October 14, 2003 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments

more soon, but check out their site

Me = Boob

Published by
julie
at October 9, 2003 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments

I just wanted to share with you all the fact that I made a royal arse of myself in boxing class the other night. Fell hard on both of my knees in
front of about 25 well sculpted bodies. What caused my fall, you ask? My accident was a product of someone else’s sweat. A salty, watery substance secreted from another human’s body, carelessly left on the floor for some unsuspecting boob to slip in. Enter me. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the few kind souls who stopped, stooped down, and asked me if I was okay, as I lay on the floor, in pain, with everyone else running around me like I was some kind of maypole or something. Sans all those silly ribbons, of course.

My fall reminded me of a class trip I took to Europe when I was in tenth grade. We were traveling on a boat from England to France (or was it the other way around?) on a particularly windy day, and everyone was seasick. I mean people retching and vomiting everywhere you look, on and off deck. I thought I was okay until someone told me I was positively green. Anyway, a particular image is burned on my brain from that fateful trip. The subject: one John S, a terribly overweight bloke with a heart of gold, who ALWAYS wore a suit to class. And everywhere else. Including the boat. Even on vacation, the guy wore a suit. He was so stinkin sweet, I often wonder where he is now. I try to forget the fact that Cousin Paul told me what he is up to these days, and it involves some man love. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but you see, it was always John S’s lifelong dream to become a Catholic priest. And now he is out of the closet. Too ironic for me to digest right now. But I am glad he is happy. Anyway, the image I have is of a portly, suited-up John S slipping and sliding down the entire length of the boat… IN SOMEONE ELSE’S VOMIT.

I guess my fall could have been worse, no? Let’s be careful out there, folks. And for God’s sake, keep your sweat &
whatnot to yourself.