Sound Bites

Technology and Dating… Then and Now


Dating… Then.

You meet a guy at a bar. You exchange phone numbers. You suffer through 8 hours of work the next day and come home to the glorious blinking red light of your answering machine.

The two of you stay up all night talking on the phone. This is it. He is The One.

You make plans for the following night.

First date goes according to plan. Second date goes according to plan.

Somewhere around the third date, the phone calls start to fade out.

Insanity kicks in.

The 8 hours at work start to feel like a year. All you can think of is the damn blinking red light.

You arrive home. Nothing.

You stare at the phone, willing it to ring. You wonder what he’s doing, if he’s out with another girl, if he’s sitting home doing the same thing you’re doing.

You debate calling him. You debate leaving, but decide against it in case he does call and you’re not here.

You realize you know where he lives. You consider the unthinkable.

You pick up a bottle of vodka and your best girlfriend. In the off-chance you do get caught, at least you can blame it on the booze.

You do the “drive-by.” His car is nowhere to be found.

You return home with the exact same information you left with.

The light still isn’t blinking.

Dating… Now.
You meet a guy at a bar. You exchange phone numbers, email addresses and Facebook URL’s.

You get absolutely nothing done at work the next day because spend the entire time scouring his Facebook page and digging up any information on him that you possibly can.

You discover the names of his parents, best friends, the city he grew up in, and what he’s done during every weekend since the beginning of time.

The two of you stay up all night texting. You make plans for the following night.

First date goes according to plan. Each time he mentions a relative or friend, you pretend you have no idea who these people are, even though you could pick them out of a lineup.

Second date goes according to plan. There is no mention of a third date yet.

The texts are still coming, but less often.

You refresh his Facebook page every ten minutes. He is now friends with “Theresa Olsen” and “Megan Shea.” Theresa is a 42-year old married woman. Megan is a 22-year old single blonde.

You refresh Megan’s page every ten minutes.

You notice he has a new wall post from “Laura McMillian,” relaying some sort of private joke from the previous night.

You refresh Laura and Megan’s page every ten minutes.

Desperation kicks in. You log on to Facebook IM to see if he’s on. HE IS.

You wait.

You consider “poking” him.

Ah, the glorious popping noise. He wants to know what you’re doing tonight. Relief sets in.

Night falls. Still no text.

You log onto IM again. He’s on. You’re on. He sees you’re on. You log off, because in some sick way, this leaves you feeling the tiniest sense of power.

You check his page again. He is now friends with Tracy Carmen, who has also just left him a smiley face comment.

You come to the conclusion he is sleeping with Megan, Laura and Tracy.

You delete his phone number.

Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a teeny bit, but if, at some point, you’ve found yourself concocting some serious internet stalking missions, then you can agree with me that THIS is one of the many reasons why technology is evil. At least before, we could pretend the reason for the silent phone was because his life suddenly became very busy… he just got out of a relationship… you know, the usual lies we feed ourselves to avoid the simple truth that they’re fucking other people. Now, we have Facebook as a daily slap in the face to remind us of this.

But aside from dating and Facebook, I could on go for days about the madness of technology. To quote comedian Louis CK, “Right now, we live in an amazing world, and it’s wasted on the crappiest generation of spoiled idiots.”

In case you need a good laugh, feel free to watch this Louis CK video “Everything’s Amazing and Nobody’s Happy.”



The guy is 100% right. People would rather bitch about what their cell phone can’t do than to praise the nine million amazing things it can do, or complain about how long their flight was delayed instead of reveling in the fact that they’re sitting in a chair in the middle of the fucking sky.

Don’t get me wrong, I think technology is a wonderful thing and has made our lives a million times easier, but at the same time, it’s almost too easy. Think about old TV shows…

TV… Then.“Donna, we need to find David! Have you heard from him?”

“No, I called his house, his work and even the Peach Pit. I'm going to drive down to the beach and see if he’s there. You try calling Brandon, Dylan and Steve and see if anyone has heard from him.”
TV… Now.“Donna, we need to find David! Have you heard from him?”

“Yeah, I texted him. He’s at the beach. He should be here in about fifteen minutes.”Ever notice how any “crisis” that occurs in modern television always contains a close-up of the cell phone displaying “LOW BATTERY” or “OUT OF SERVICE” in bright neon letters? Because naturally, without that, the storyline would be completely unrealistic.

And also, there’s no mystery anymore. My friends and I went out for lunch today and I swear, every other sentence out of our mouths was “Oh yeah! I read that!” And we’re not talking about the newspaper; we’re talking about each other’s fucking Facebook pages. We all already knew every single detail of what has transpired in each other’s lives over the past week, which doesn’t really leave you with a whole hell of a lot to talk about.

Now think about this from a high school reunion perspective…

High School Reunions… Then.“Oh my GOD! How have you been?”

“Great! My husband and I have three children and live in Colorado now! What about you?”High School Reunions… Now.(Everyone just dumbly stares at each other because they already know everything about every person in the room.)

Again, I’m exaggerating, but this really happened to me. I bumped into a girl I went to high school with at the mall, and I just stared at her for a good thirty seconds like an idiot, because I had absolutely no idea what to say. In that thirty seconds, this is what went through my head:

My mouth starts to form the words: “Hey! How are you?”
My brain answers: “You already know how she is. Her boyfriend Jim McDonald proposed last week.”My mouth tries to form some more basic questions: “So, are you still working over at the hospital? Where are you living these days?”

My brain answers: “You know she’s still working at the hospital. You also know she’s living in Plymouth with her fiancé and their pug, Winnie.”
I was faced with two dilemmas: I either pretend not to know these details and ask anyway, thus I am a huge liar, or I can let on that I know this, thus I am a huge stalker. Either way, it’s a lose-lose. So instead, I duck my head in shame, mumble something about it being nice to see her, and walk away.

As much as I love iTunes, iPods, cell phones and Facebook… sometimes, I miss the days when things were simpler.

It’s been a while since I last blogged, so here’s a little update on what’s been going on the last few months…

February: the day finally came – my 99 weeks of funemployment is over. Back to the workforce I go.

March: Odd-jobs to pay rent- Background acting (cool to see famous people be filmed, not-so-cool to make $8/hr, be on set at 6am, and work ridiculously long hours), consumer product testing (cool to make $100/hr, not-so-cool if you need a steady paycheck.)

So, with no other options available and April’s rent approaching, I reluctantly succumbed to rejoining the world of recruiting.

The invitation to hell:

I land an interview for an insurance call center, and I know the second I step foot in the door that I already hate it. My future boss greets me in the lobby, and my first thought is that he is stunningly gorgeous. After opening his mouth, my second thought is that I can’t believe God would waste such impeccably good looks on such a soulless creature.

As soon as we enter the interview room, I can already tell that he’s one of those suits who talks for the pure sake of hearing himself talk. He tells me at least 27 times that his title is CTO – Chief Talent Officer - which is funny because I’m pretty sure that in every other company on the face of the planet, CTO actually refers to Chief "Technology" Officer. Chief also tells me half a dozen times that he lives near me, but that he's actually “over the hill” (i.e. lives in the Hollywood Hills) and that he has a gym inside his house. I am not impressed. Chief is undoubtedly the type of guy who likes big important titles and big expensive merchandise to overcompensate for other “small” things.

Chief calls me and invites me back for a second interview with the CEO, and instructs me to wear a suit. I dust off the dreaded pieces of pinstriped fabric that I haven’t worn in 6 years. Putting it on feels similar to the way I’d imagine it feels to put on an orange jumpsuit right before being sentenced to life in prison. Like superglue on my skin.

The CEO spends the entire interview staring at me like I’m a meal. Chief makes me an offer of more money than I’ve ever made in my life, and even that isn’t enough to instill any enthusiasm. Instead I reply, “cool,” and tell him I can’t start for two weeks, hoping I’ll find something else in the meantime. But with my rent date nearing and the job search process becoming tedious, I decide to give it a shot and see how bad it really is.

Day 1: My life is Office Space. I am surrounded by cubicles, printers, and people who are either stupid, unhappy, or too stupid to realize they're unhappy. My cubicle evilly beckons from the corner. I want to pour gasoline on it, light a match and run for my life. Words like “corporate environment” and “company morale” make me want to stab myself in the eye. Chief has me come in at 9am and keeps me there until 7pm. When I inquire about the hours, he arrogantly replies, “Well, I don’t know how they work in Boston, but here in L.A., we work 60 hours a week.” Funny how he didn’t mention that in the interview.

Chief represents everything I hate about Corporate America. He doesn’t eat or sleep, his entire life revolves around living and breathing work. He has no spouse, no children, just a big important title and a bunch of expensive things that probably never get used. Newsflash Chief: When you die, I’m pretty sure no one cares how many hours you've worked or how much money you made in the process.

Day 2: I come down with a cold. I haven’t been sick in over 3 years. My body is literally rejecting the idea of returning to the corporate world.

Day 3: I’m actually excited to spend the day out of the office at a college job fair, until I realize that Chief is coming with me. As soon as I get there, he eyes my purse and tells me that purses are unprofessional and I really need to buy a briefcase. I almost laugh until I realize he’s serious.

Day 4: By this point, my body is so numb with misery that I almost start thinking the job might not be that bad. Then Ashley comes. Ashley is the girl who should have my job, because she’s endured the hell of this company for many years, and knows everything about the business there is to know. But Chief insists that she's not qualified for my job because she is not experienced enough (young), not professional enough (fat), and not a good person to represent the company (black). Ashley spends the entire afternoon piling on things for me to do and making it clear that she knows how to do it all. She hates me. My job should be hers. We both know it.

Day 5: I receive a call from a little angel named Laura, who invites me for an interview with an agency that hires for all the L.A. studios. I call in sick, go to the interview, and am greeted by Laura, the beautiful receptionist who saved my life. Laura brings me to meet Rob, the boss. He’s from Boston. He loves me. The office building is gorgeous. The bathrooms are spotless. The people are great. I get offered the job on the spot.

I send my resignation to Chief through the company email and don’t even bother to read his reply. My new boss agrees to let me work part-time hours until I’m done with school. The girls there all wear jeans to work and watch American Idol. I am happy.

I love my new job.

11:00am: Wake up. Look at the clock. Go back to sleep.

12:00pm: Realize I have to be at school in one hour.

Unemployed observation #1: It is not impossible to oversleep for a 1pm class.

12:15pm: Get up. Make coffee. Check email and Facebook to have some sort of contact with the outside world.

Unemployed observation #2: You become accustomed to keeping track of the days by people’s “Monday complaints” on Facebook.

Confession: Every time I read another “Monday complaint,” I smile a little inside.

12:30pm: Cook an egg an jalapeno omelet. Since my lay-off, I have since discovered that jalapenos are the secret cure for weight loss.

1:00pm: Arrive at class.

Unemployed observation #3: Two hours of school is still better than rotting in a cubicle.

Unemployed observation #4: Almost anything, with the exception of snakes, spiders and Jersey Shore reruns, is better than rotting in a cubicle.

1:05pm: Discreetly eyeball the girl seated behind me who has brought her toddler to class. People, IS THIS ALLOWED?? In any event, I don’t think it’s cute, so I don’t pretend to like it.

1:10pm: Relocate to the opposite side of the classroom. No one notices.

1:15pm: Wonder if I am the only 27 year-old creature with a vagina who would duck if someone ever tossed me a baby.

3:00pm: Leave school. Go food shopping.

Unemployed observation #5: Trader Joe’s is still jam-packed at off-peak hours. There’s no way around it.

4:00pm: Arrive home. Debate on whether or not to shower. Realize 90210 is on Soapnet. Decide not to. Dylan McKay = ‘gasm.

Unemployed observation #6: Showering is for the birds.

5:00pm: Think about going running. Realize another 90210 rerun is on. Decide to go tomorrow.

Unemployed observation #7: Everything you always said you’d do if you didn’t have to work (i.e. get in shape, redecorate your house, start a band) you never actually do. If anything, you only get more lazy.

6:00pm: Check my bank account. Smile.

Unemployed observation #8: Regardless of what anyone says, getting free money does not suck.

6:15pm: Make plans with friends who are now home from work. Realize you still haven’t showered. Shower.

Unemployed observation #9: It is possible to become extremely busy doing absolutely nothing.
8:00pm: Meet friends for drinks. Feign attentive listening while they complain about their day at work. Smile and nod.

Unemployed observation #10: No matter how nice your co-workers were or what qualities you liked about your job, you will never miss it.

11:00pm: Arrive home. Make to-do list for tomorrow. Realize that laundry has morphed from a chore into an exciting fun task.

Unemployed observation #11: The people that say they’d “get bored” on employment are full of it. Only boring people get bored. Fact.
12:00am: Eat klonopin. Eat ice cream. Watch infomercials. Realize there is something seriously wrong with a product called “The Magic Bullet” that doesn’t involve sex.

1:00am: Drift into sleep. Klonopins = Bliss

That’s it for today.

Happy Monday kids.

When it comes to Christmas presents on my dad’s side of the family, no one is safe. Last year, I received a book about the Aztecs and an Andy Warhol pop box from my uncle. From my aunt, I got a multi-colored Bill Cosby sweater that looks like a quilt, and a mini blow-up doll. My stepmother got a book on bird mating.

That said, the following is a re-enactment of what occurred over my Thanksgiving break:

The family sits around the patio enjoying cocktails before Thanksgiving dinner. Auntie enters the room, equipped with wrapped gift boxes. She passes one to me and one to my younger sister.
Auntie: I brought your Christmas presents since I won’t see you next month. Open them! (Smiles expectantly.)

My sister and I exchanged frightened looks. We open the gifts. The first thing I see is a large black bottle with the label “Sexiest Fantasies” on it. Things are looking up.
Me: Wow, sexiest fantasies body spray. Cool. (Like an idiot, I announce this to the whole room.)

I look to my left. My little sister has received the same bottle. I continue digging through the box and uncover a small glass perfume bottle in the shape of a naked woman. My sister receives one with the status of liberty placed on top. She lives in New York. This makes sense, I guess.
Me: Wow, I've never seen a perfume bottle with boobs. Thanks, Auntie.

Sister: Um, mine’s actually cologne.

Sister attempts to cover up this ungrateful statement by digging further through the box and handing the sex toys to our little brother, than attempts to pretend she didn’t just attempt to do that.

We keep digging. The next item I remove is a small pink box with the label “Titillation lib balm” scrawled on it, and a white tube with the label “Edible body bling.”
Me: Ooo, titillation lib balm and edible body bling. Nice. (Again, I announce this. I might as well say, please insert creepy inappropriate daughter/stepdaughter/grandaughter titillating-body-bling mental image here.)

Auntie: Yeah, it’s honey vanilla flavored too. (Winks at me.)

Dad casually leaves the room.
Sister: Why does it say on the bottle “’To book parties, please call Felicia?’ Did you get these at a sex toy party?”

Auntie: Oh, yes. And these body sprays have pheremones in them. Do you girls know what pheremones do to men?

Grandpa casually leaves the room.
Me: Oh yeah. I got a vanilla pheremone spray at my last sex toy party.

Sister: This is great. Ryan will love these.

Stepmom suddenly becomes very interested in the ceiling tile patterns.
The rest of the afternoon is spent taste-testing the honey vanilla dust, trying to figure out why they refer to lotion as "body sauce," and avoiding dad, until it’s time to eat.

I think things are looking up in the family present department.

I think when sex toys and paternal parentals are in the same room, things get real weird, real quick.

I think my aunt thinks my sister and I are whores.

Clarification… I’m not necessarily using the term “sexiest” to mean songs to have sex to. More so, songs that make you feel sexy. Dark, eerie tracks you can jam to while doing yoga… drinking red wine… whatever gets ya in the mood. These are my faves:

1. Florence and the Machine: “Seven Devils” – Confession: when I’m in my car, I chain smoke Marlboro menthols and listen to this song on repeat. And I don’t even inhale. Because I don’t even really smoke. I just like the idea of it.

2. Jeff Buckley: “New Year’s Prayer” – My de-stressing remedy is as follows: Xanax, red wine, bubble bath, this song. I do this often.

3. Puscifer: “Potions” – Ah. Maynard James Keenan and Trent Reznor. Together. Rolled up into one little orgasmic combination. It’s like combining Oreos and Ring Dings. Johnny Depp and Ryan Gosling. Champagne and ecstasy. The perfect blend of sexy.

4. Garbage: “Milk” – The lyrics to this one are a bit strange (I am rental kitchen?) but God bless you Shirley Manson for this beauteous little gem.

5. Sarah McLaughlin: “Silence of Relief” – Yeah, yeah I know… having Sarah McLaughlin on your iPod is about as cool as having Peter Cetera on your iPod. But this song is badass. And I actually do have Peter Cetera on my iPod. But that’s not even the embarrassing part – the embarrassing part is that I have him stored under “Misc. Artists” so that if my friends ever go through my iPod artist list, they won't a) question my taste in music, and b) know that I secretly listen to “Glory of Love” when I’m alone and fantasize about my dream man taking me to his castle far away.

6. City and Colour: “As Much as I Ever Could” – I have no words. Just listen. You will understand.

7. Florence and the Machine: “What the Water Gave Me” – Yeah, she gets two. This song was on the show “The Secret Circle” a few weeks ago, which – if my de-stress day happens to fall on a Thursday – I like to watch (post bath/wine/Xanax) and pretend that I have superhuman powers like the witch girls in the show.

8. Gus: “Don’t Fear the Reaper” – Remember back in 1996, when America was still creative enough to develop their own movie storylines? Well this song was featured in the original “Scream” (before script writers ran out of ideas and decided to make three more). Just a guy, a girl, and a very subtle acoustic guitar. Simplicity = sexy.

9. Radiohead: “Street Spirit” – An oldie but goodie. Even if you “don’t get” Radiohead or you despise Thom Yorke, you’ve gotta commend the guy for this one. Immerse your soul in love, people. IMMERSE YOUR SOUL IN LOVE.

10. Coldplay: “Don’t Panic” – Do you ever visualize a movie scene when you listen to a song? Or make one up? Like, when I listen to Jeff Buckley’s “Everybody Here Wants You” (another one that almost made the list), it makes me think of a dimly lit jazz lounge, like that hot scene with Jennifer Lopez and George Clooney in “Out of Sight.” Anyways, this one makes me think of fall. Like it should’ve been in the background when the weird neighbor kid in “American Beauty” is filming leaves blowing in the street, trying to capture beauty in the simple things in life. Don’t panic. It’s a beautiful world.

My favorites.

I love this.

"We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It's easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven't even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else." - Chuck Klosterman

Hey, I have an idea. Let’s buy some college kids a bunch of Ferraris… but if one of them crashes theirs going 200 MPH, let’s ban Ferraris all across America.

Seriously. That’s how ridiculous this Four Loko ban is. Leave it to some juvenile morons to go and fuck up the fun for everyone.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: unless you are a 300 lb man or have a death wish, you do not need more than one Four Loko within a multi-hour time span. One Four Loko contains 24 oz of 12% alcohol. One beer contains 12 ounces of 5% alcohol. So, just in case you’re an idiot, allow me to do the math for you: one Four Loko equals five beers. Two Four Loko equals ten beers. What happens if you decide to funnel 10 beers within one hour? The same thing that would probably happen if you drank two Lokos within that timeframe: you’d be tanked.

The only harm that Lokos really cause is that they contain caffeine, which causes the alcohol to flow through our system faster, thus the reason it makes people hammered. Yeah, yeah, I know alcohol is a depressant and caffeine is a stimulant and when you mix the two it’s bad for your body… yada, yada. Red Bull and vodka does the same damn thing, but you don’t see the FDA banning Red Bulls across America.

The funny thing is, all the media has done with this hype is provide an all-expenses-paid revamped marketing plan for Four Loko. I’ve been drinking Lokos for the past year and, before now, everyone looked at me like I’d sprouted a third eye because I was walking around parties with a giant purple can. Now, with all the publicity, it’s selling out in stores. So, in the grand scheme of things, Lokos’ revenue is undoubtedly tripling in size.

I will say from experience that, when consumed properly, Lokos are amazing. After polishing off one Loko, I can suddenly sing like Mariah, solve everyone’s life problems, and do backflips on pool tables. All for the small price of $2.50.

But, of course, our country doesn’t see it this way.

America: where fun goes to die. We’ll outlaw great contributions to society such as pot and Four Lokos, legalize pharmaceuticals and other toxic substances, and make you work to death while other countries get mid-day nap time and 3 month annual vaca’s.

I love our country for a lot of things, but this time, they’re wrong.

Admit it ladies, there’s only one reason we look forward to Halloween: because it’s the one and only day where it’s deemed socially acceptable to release your inner whore. You can finally unleash that little vixen you’ve been whording inside the depths of your soul on those other 364 days of the year.

And look at the incentives. Every bar within a half mile radius of each other has a “sexiest costume” contest where you can win a shit-ton of money. Think about it, if you pay 5 grand for a new rack, then use that rack to win the $1000 grand prize, they’ve just paid for 20% of your implants. The logistics are surreal.

So my fellow ho-bags, don’t be afraid to slap on a pair of fishnets and your favorite whoredrobe of choice and skank it up. Remember, we’re all in this together.

Happy whore-a-ween, kids.

Is it me, or does it seem like everyone nowadays is trying to re-create the 90's? I always assumed the 90’s were my favorite musical decade because that’s what I grew up listening to, but now everywhere I look, kids are wearing converse sneakers and flannels, Forever 21 now sells Nirvana T-shirts, hell there are even new spin-off’s of 90210 and Melrose Place. Everyone must too busy updating checking their iPhones and updating their “statuses” to think of anything new.

On the other hand, the 90’s were pretty kick-ass, and I don’t mean it in a narcissistic “my decade is better than your decade” way. Think about it: who is this generation’s Kurt Cobain? Lady Gaga? Justin Bieber? Ick.

The 90’s were notorious for grunge gods like Cobain, Vedder and Cornell, goth gods like Reznor and Manson, the genius of Radiohead, Shirley Manson's on-stage sexcapades. Then of course, there were the great 90’s one-hit wonders- Spacehog, 4-Non Blondes, Crash Test Dummies, Tracy Bonham, Marcy Playground, Days of the New, Veruca Salt… and on it goes.

But what I really miss the most are the goddamn music videos. Remember the warm and tingly feeling you’d get inside when Alicia Silverstone hopped into Liv Tyler’s convertible and tossed her catholic school uniform out the window? In case you’ve forgotten, here is a reminder of why the 90’s were so memorable:

Which brings me to my next subject: 90’s flicks. It’s like the entire music scene took over the movie world, too: Clueless, Empire Records, Singles, Reality Bites, Mad Love. Admit it, how hot was Drew Barrymore with her short blonde/black hair, rocking out to L7 in thigh highs and Mary Janes?

Even TV was great, so great that the producers of 2009 have caused Aaron Spelling to roll over in his grave by bringing back all his old shows. Back before reality TV took over the world, we actually had good fictionalized shows, My So-Called Life, Dawson’s Creek, (90210 and Melrose go without saying).

At least now we have Youtube to access the greatness of the grunge era.

Long live the 90’s.

Favorite fashion trends of the moment...

Leg Avenue Vintage Tights
Available on their website or eBay. http://www.legavenue.com/

Last month, my friend Danielle and I decided to join the boys in The Wandas on their west coast tour. The band and their crew drove an RV but we opted to rent a car for the trip and stay with friends and family along the stretch from San Diego to Seattle.



The first two nights the boys played the Ruby Room in San Diego and Mr. T's Bowl in L.A., then it was on to San Fran. We took the Pacific Coast Highway and drove up the coast which took us about 8 hours, but the view of beaches in Malibu and the mountains in Northern California were definitely worth the extra driving.

San Francisco was the best turnout as far as shows went. Another Boston band, Ketman, opened for the Wandas at Thee Parkside, so there were lots of familiar faces at the venue. Danielle's cousins took us sightseeing to the Golden Gate Bridge, cable cars, Fisherman's Wharf, Chinatown. San Fran was everything it was rumored to be: beautiful city, great music, Jack Kerouac memorabilia everywhere, etc.

Portland was different than any city I've ever visited, very hipster... the boys played at Kelly's which was packed for a Monday night. Seattle also fit the cliche, it poured the whole time we were there, but I got a snapshot of Cobain's house and had dinner at the Space Needle, which had a beautiful view of the entire city and rotates every 46 seconds. The only downside was that after we came out of the space needle, someone had smashed the window to our rental and stole our laptops, GPS and ipods :(

Here's a video I put together of the trip, although I lost the footage of driving up the coast because it was on my stolen computer, but most of it I still had on my camera.

The Algonkian Pitch and Shop Conference was held in NYC this past March, my first time attending a writers workshop. I met so many great, supportive people and now feel like I'm one step closer to making my writing career happen.

So just to recap...

Day 1: American Idol with 15 judges. I’m in the women’s fiction group, so we all go around the room, read our book summary, and one by one each person tells you if they like the story, what they like about it, and what they would reword in your pitch to make it sound better. Our group leader was Susan, who had her book published through this workshop, so she had some very helpful advice as well.

Day 2: We pitched to our first editor, and older woman named Jackie, as sort of a practice run, and she gave us feedback from an editor’s perspective.

Day 3: VICTORY! We had to pitch to 2 agents, one in the morning, one in the afternoon. The first editor I pitched to was total poker face, no smile, no feedback, nothing. So I leave thinking she hated it, then Susan calls me in after to give feedback and says “Congrats, she loves your story and requested your manuscript.” I almost fell off my chair. You should’ve seen this place, it was like American Idol, every time someone came out of the room and got a request everyone would scream and exchange hugs, it was really sweet how supportive everyone was. So I went out with the girls afterwards and had drinks and celebrated.

So now I have to have an editor edit my manuscript before I send it to Penguin, then they’ll take up to 6 months to let you know if they want to publish it. In the meantime I’ll be finished the rewrites to my 2nd book in hopes of never returning to the corporate world again.

This was my first year at South by Southwest music festival in Austin, TX. I wasn't planning on going but I had got laid off the previous week and was invited by my friend Danielle who is a booking agent in Boston. We flew in to Austin Wednesday, met up with a few friends of Danielle’s and went down to 6th Street, which they block off, so its like Mardi Gras, thousands of people covering the streets and live music everywhere. Wednesday was a low key night, as I drank way too many margaritas and was slurring by noon, and Thursday was pretty uneventful as well... Danielle’s friend Jonathan came down from San Antonio with his 2 friends and they dragged us to some sleazy bars with loud rap music and screaming girls on the bars. BUT...

Friday rocked! We went to the Fader Magazine party which was outside and kind of like a small Great Woods sort of place and the drink were FREE! Amazing. We watched Peter Bjorn and John play, then hopped in some random kids convertible to hit an after-party.

Saturday rocked too! We went a free show at an outside park, where they were serving rum and cream sodas backstage (my new favorite drink). The band Lucero that was playing invited us onstage with them, then we went to this rooftop party at the Mohawk bar.

The next night, we went to an 80’s party, but not just any 80’s party, a hardcore 80’s party, it was like stepping into a Molly Ringwald movie. One woman even had a giant tattoo of David Bowie from Labrynth on her back. So we rocked some Duran Duran and made friends with our cab driver Carlos, who took Danielle and I to a breakfast joint at 3am.

So the next day Carlos took us sightseeing to some Lake and to the Oasis, you know the Oasis… “I got friends in low places, where the whiskey… bla bla… think I’ll step on down to the O-O-OASIS” yep that’s the one! It has over 800 tables and 5 balconies that overlook the lake. Gorgeous.

Definitely going back next year...

I don’t care what anyone says, all women go through a major change once they hit 25. It’s as if we’re all just floating along, enjoying life, and BAM. 25 smacks you out of nowhere. You’re going to be thirty in five years. Party’s over.

You start thinking about all the things in life that you haven't done yet. You still haven't traveled to Brazil... or published that book...

You start analyzing the person you're in a relationship with and wondering why you’re wasting your time with them.

You start analyzing your job. You don’t love it. You don’t even like it.

Every second that passes from that point on feels like a giant waste of life.

Okay, maybe this doesn’t happen to everyone, but it definitely happened to me. I suddenly realized that the dreaded 30 was slowly creeping around the corner and I was facing a few problems, those being:

- I did not want to spend the rest of my life with the person I was in a relationship with.

- I had no idea how to tell the person I was in a relationship with that I did not want to spend the rest of my life with him.

- I did not want to spend the rest of my life at my dead-end job.

- I had no idea how to tell my boss that I did not want to spend the rest of my life at my dead- end job.

- I wanted to travel. And by “travel” I don’t mean “two weeks of approved vacation” per year.

So, first things first. I dumped my boyfriend and moved out. And then he got a new girlfriend. And then I did the whole “I’m sad he’s with someone else and want him back” mourning grievance for about a week. And then I was over it.

Then, by some miraculous grace of God, I didn’t even have to quit my job. I got laid off. Unemployment = amazing.

So I went back to school full time, landed a few freelance gigs for music magazines, wrote two novels, got signed by a lit agent, saw half of the US, and plan on doing a semester in Europe within the next year or so.

Remember, life is what you make of it. So get off your ass and go do it.

Ok, so I wasn't sure what to expect when I went to the Road Recovery 10th Anniversary concert in NYC on Thursday because it was a collaboration of so many well-known artists (Slash, Jerry Cantrell, Tom Morello, Ours, Perry Farrell). Let me just say, what a show.

First off, I just want to say that Perry Farrell is the cutest thing I've ever seen. Literally. The guy is happier than rainbows and puppies. Secondly, I want to say that Slash is the fucking man, not just because he's Slash, but because the guy smokes butts the entire time he's playing the guitar.

(On a side note, my friend almost hyperventilated when he came on stage, which considering that she has his autobiography, a Velvet Revolver purse and a Guns and Roses cell phone, I knew was bound to happen.)

So, after another one of Jimmy Gnecco's breath taking performances, they announce that there's a surprise guest that just showed up: Jakob Dylan. Good God. Jakob Dylan = walking sex. Then, Sen Dog from Cypress Hill came out and sang a few tunes to mix things up.

For the finale, Tom Morello asked the audience what they wanted to hear, and in response to the "Guns and Roses" chants, Tom brought everyone back on stage and everyone sang "Paradise City" together.

Other highlights of the night include:

- Denis Leary opening with "Rehab" and "I'm an Asshole."

- Ours acoustic performances of "Murder" and "Autumn."

- Jerry Cantrell and Slash covering Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here."

- Perry Farrell performing "Mountain Song" (Jane's Addiction),"Pets" (Porno for Pyros) and Stevie Wonder's "Superstitious (along with Morrello, Cantrell and Slash).

- Sen Dog from Cypress Hill singing "Jump Around" and "Insane in the Membrane."

- Jakob Dylan covering "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands."