Let Me Count the Ways

oh july! how i love thee eternally, for you always remind of summer vacations, even though i’m a working stiff now who can’t take summers off anymore like i could when i was middle-school-aged and carefree, and spent days at the mall with my friends, hanging out in arcades and making eyes at boys — “he was totally checking me out!!” — while wearing blue-and-yellow eye shadow stolen from my mom’s makeup kit, applied haphazardly and looking quite garish, though it didn’t matter because it was eye shadow that i considered myself old enough to wear, forget what my mom had to say. plus she would never find out anyway because i would lick my palm and remove all traces of the color on my way home in time for dinner.

oh july! how you and i go way back, way way back, almost as far as the stone age, or maybe it was 1988, the same summer i turned 12, got my first period and became obsessed with “Days of Our Lives” and man, wasn’t Bo the most handsome man ever with that beard? he had a boat on the show that he named The Fancy Face and i was sure he meant me despite the fact that my face was fancy with pimples at the time, but i knew he would still love me unconditionally because he still loved his girlfriend on the show who one day woke up to find herself deaf and even forgave his mother for not telling him that his archnemesis across town was actually his father from a tryst his mother had 30 years back during a hot Salem summer, i’m sure it was in july.

oh july! do you remember that one time we were hanging out with my cousin Gitella, i was probably 9, and we were giggling and trying to see who could fart the loudest, and she accidentally fell off a bar stool and onto the floor, which somehow caused a giant wall mirror to fall on top of her and shatter into a million little pieces, pieces that wedged into her skin and made her bleed like something out of a horror film, streaks and streaks of blood down her freckled face. she was crying and i was crying, worried about those seven years of bad luck we would surely have. then a neighbor came to our rescue and helped clean up our mess and reassured us that everything would be ok, though i knew it wouldn’t be ok because my father was going to kill me when he got home, but my mom came home first and i begged her on hands and knees, crying hysterically, not to say anything to my dad. and she was a champ and didn’t say anything and instead took the blame for the whole thing, saying she closed the screen door too hard and the mirror fell because of that, nevermind all the bandages on my cousin’s face, they were because of something else. and he bought it.

oh july, do you remember me? because i remember you.

One-Hit Wonders: June 2009

there was a noticeable reduction of sexual search terms pulling up my blog this month, with more terms centering on home improvement projects and household issues. oddly, i find myself saddened by this as it makes me think this blog is turning more utilitarian than sexy. from this point forward i vow to write more about hairy balls, lactating breasts and the always popular milla jovovich sausage nipples.

• agggggh


• urine bag disguise


• milla the last man


• my puppy goes insane at sundown


• am i allergic to my comforter


• can fumigation resolve chinese drywall


• i want to buy a loft in downtown l.a. how is parking


• conclusion for photo essay on my life


• what is selective slut


• rolling wine bottle on stomach to flatten abs


• my sister tortures me about my big breasts


• i live in mexican neighborhood treated like shit


• is the word gradumacated spanish

The Home Improvement Chronicles: The Tree Stump Removal

stump and stumper: if there’s one thing the former owners of my house did right, it’s cutting down the two palm trees that once stood in the front yard. but of course we’re talking about the same owners who used staples to attach door trim, so their good work had to stop at the halfway done and mostly decent point.


some of my best friends are palm trees: i have nothing against palm trees, but i don’t want them on my property. they look awesome on tree—lined streets and near the beach, but on my little piece of earth, they block the view and are just too damn imposing. their stumps are no better. so i called in the reinforcements who began the stump removal with a little chainsaw action to the jugular.


stump and a half: the current state of the yard is pretty pathetic. i call it the "dirt pile." the idea behind removing the stumps was to bring Mo and i one step closer to being able to landscape the front yard, which we plan to do right after step two: winning the lottery.


do i make a sisyphus joke here? that’s too obvious, right? ok, pretend i never mentioned it.


the stump grinder: being a homeowner has exposed me to tons of gangly machinery i never understood before, and the stump grinder ranks at the top of my list of Gangly Machinery That Is Damn Sexy. after seeing it in action, i couldn’t help but rub up against Mo and whisper illogical yet dirty puns about stump grinders in his ear, to which he replied, “that’s almost as bad as your sisyphus joke.”


stump and stumper never stood a chance: that thing whittled them away in minutes, leaving a massive pile of sawdust in their place, which prompted me to rename the front yard the "dirt-dust pile."


danger! not only can the stump grinder pulverize you with its blade, the sawdust it produces can kill you by asphyxiation.


meanwhile: the other two stumps stayed safely tucked away on the deck, eager to descend into the yard and explore all the new space they could pee on.


more stumps: these were at the north side of the house, near the detached garage. nine dead cypress tree stumps that were once beautiful and thriving hedges before the former owners started depositing used motor oil in the soil.


not art: and before the owners’ jackass kids used them as a canvas for their tagging.


Mike to the rescue: you might remember Mike the Tree Guy from that time he pruned the overgrown Chinese Elm in the front yard. he’s simply the best tree guy in LA and you should call him immediately: Mike @ Eagle Tree Service: 626.353.3186.


timber: some of the cypress stumps were so dry that they could be pulled up from the root with just a few strong tugs. so with a little grunting and a long rope, Mike pulled them out one at a time while i yelled “go hercules” from the sidelines.


eight to go: after pulling them up, Mike chopped the wood into small "cedar" blocks that i put into every closet in the house. the leftovers were handed out to neighbors who also did the same. and the street smelled delicious.


stumpless: with the stumps removed, the front yard actually looked less awful, or maybe it looked a different kind of awful in the same way that chunky peanut butter and regular peanut butter are two different types of awful-looking. or maybe not. have i told you my sisyphus joke yet?

Stuff and Things

• the results are in: layoff week at work came and went and left me still employed. sadly i can’t say the same for 820 coworkers who got the boot. i feel bad for them but happy for myself. i did not want to be in the jobless boat. not in this economy and especially not after seeing my parents and countless friends suddenly become jobless, panicked and struggling. i know strife builds character and all, but i’m ok with being vapid if it means i get to eat.


• speaking of eating: Mo and i have been superchef bandits lately, making feasts for ourselves and our friends that have included such gastronomical masterpieces as Mo’s magic gumbo, my world-famous gazpacho, homemade rosemary bread, ravioli from scratch, endless grilled meats and, of course, many mixed drinks. our goal is to make restaurant-quality food that dissuades us from spending money on eating at restaurants. so far it’s been working. we are fat and happy.


• Lake Wobegone: Mo and i recently attended a taping of Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion at the Greek Theater in Los Feliz. the show was quite fantastic and featured great guest appearances by the likes of sheryl crow, martin sheen and the super butch kd lang, who looks and sounds more and more like roy orbison every time i see her. we must have been the youngest people in the crowd, save for the two teenagers who sat behind us, likely dragged to the show by their parents who, along with us, had to endure constant mutterings of “this isn’t even funny!” that’s when i realized how expansive the generational gap really was — to these kids i was part of the unfunny “them” that included their parents. i was part of the geriatric crowd that found MTV too racy. i shuddered at the thought, but only for a moment, before wrapping my shawl tighter around me and resuming my toe-tapping.


• and the livin’s easy: i have been finding myself uncharacteristically excited for summer. the hot weather i still dread — along with the ants that are already marching through the kitchen — but i’m oddly achy for the socializing that comes with the season, and i’m really hoping that fireball in the sky helps energize me into finally cleaning out the garage. i’m also excited by the fireworks i see popping nightly now in my neighborhood, which will culminate in the killer fourth of july show that is just weeks away. then there are the perfect, warm nights that allow me to eat dinner on the deck again, and even the 100-degree days when i can wash the dogs with the garden hose before turning it on myself.

Tug of War

On Like Donkey Kong

nothing makes me happier than a little June in my life. it also makes me busy and broke, but happiness has its price. the reason June is the best month of the year is because i was born in June, on June 26 to be exact, so you have some time left to get me a birthday gift. please make it BIG. ribbons are also welcome. and if you’re my mom, i would love a spa day with an hour-long massage by a cabana boy who will pepper me with compliments about my youthful appearance.

i’ll be a whooping 33 years old this year, which brings me one year closer to the time when i should be lying about my age. i’m guessing that happens around 39 or 40. but for now i’m ok being 33 and being honest about it. i’m ok with the fine lines i see developing around my eyes, the laugh lines deepening with each year of good times spent with family and friends.

the thing i can do without are the relentless gray hairs that have stepped up their assault in recent years. all the women in my family have this problem of premature graying, so i’ve been plucking these wiry, witch-like gray hairs from my scalp since i was 19. when i complain to my mom about this, she says, “just wait till you have to pluck them from your pubes.” then i stop complaining.

June is also the month of my sister’s birth, as well as the births of a few close friends, three of whom were born on June 5 (happy birthday Ann, Dave and Sharon!), plus father’s day and my anniversary with Mo (4 years!). Juice’s birthday is also somewhere in June — somewhere mysterious and forever unknown as LA pound puppies don’t come with birth certificates, but she’s a June baby all the same. she’ll be 7.

it alarms me that this year is already half over and (of course) i haven’t put a dent in all the things i had planned to beat into completion with a baseball bat when the year began. and of course i say this every year, in June and again in December when i run through the list of things i’ve yet to complete, a list immortalized in an entry i wrote three years ago when i turned 30, replicated below with a progress report in italics:

• have a kid! maybe even two (three tops). maybe this won’t play out completely perfectly, maybe you’ll need to visit the sperm bank when you hit your “scary age” but have a kid at some point, even if it’s just one, because from the outside, parenthood looks interesting, exhausting, otherworldly and definitely worth knowing.
  thankfully i’ve found a wonderful candidate for this, so no sperm bank visit will be necessary! we still need a couple more years to make this happen and we plan to practice plenty until it does.


• don’t get married just to have a kid or just to be married. honor the promise you made to yourself regarding marriage — that you’ll do it only if it feels absolutely right in your bones, your blood and your brain. and even then reconsider.
  again, i have my candidate and it’ll happen with a bit more time. quit rushing me!


• write a friggin book! or two or ten. find the time and discipline and just write already. potential without action is worthless. publish or perish, bitch.
  doesn’t the blog count? i need a book deal to write a book. any publishers out there?


• quit being negative. we’ve gone over this before.
  shut up and quit being so critical.


• recognize that everything that’s happened up to this moment, whether good or bad, is not as important as what happens after this moment. remind yourself every day that the past does not have to impact the future.
  i think i got this one down. denial works wonders.


• get better at buying your own bullshit if you expect other people to.
  can i retract this? it doesn’t work for me anymore, because the older i get, the more i get to know the truth about myself, and the more i get comfortable with that truth, the less i feel like masking it with bullshit. updated goal: get better at being true to yourself if you expect others to view you accurately. on second thought, forget the others and just be true to yourself. the rest will come.


• buy some property. G-d ain’t making any more real estate. and then sell the property. paper equity is not as good as money in the bank.
  finally! one i actually accomplished!! CHECK!!!


• dogs. have more.
  yay, another! Pinko makes two dogs in the house!! CHECK!!!


• all that adult shit that your pops has been telling you about for years — saving for retirement, insuring everything, maintaining good credit — subscribe to it. also, eradicate all student debt by 40.
  working on this one, though house = debt. but my bills are paid on time and i always live within my means.


• prepare for deaths in the family. you aren’t the only one who’s aging.
  gulp. everyone’s still healthy and i don’t even want to think about it so quit playing debbie downer. this is a fun post.


• don’t bother with people you don’t care for, tasks you don’t need to do and situations you’d rather not be in. you have the freedom to politely excuse yourself from all of them. up until you have that kid, your greatest obligation is to yourself.
  yes, be more selfish! good advice.


• now go get ’em, tiger.
  okay.

The Home-Improvement Chronicles: The Kitchen Completed!!

behold the new kitchen! it looks a lot like the old kitchen. only this kitchen is sans leaky fridge from hell, which has been replaced by the super sexy Nutid fridge from Ikea.


the hotness: the bamboo floors, which were damaged by the mold spawned by the leak, were also replaced after much waiting for a shipment from china. thankfully these boards matched the old flooring perfectly, except for the dog scratches, which were conspicuously absent.


the sexy fridge: i looked at a lot of fridges before landing on this one — at sears, best buy, frys, even a used appliance store. they were all decent and dull, as good as any other fridge. truthfully i didn’t know what i was looking for in a fridge beyond the basics of being able to refrigerate my food and not leak. then i saw this Ikea fridge, with its sexy silver pulls, and suddenly believed in love at first sight. i was smitten immediately and had to resist the urge to rub up against inappropriately in front of the sales clerk.


so i waited until i got it home: where i rubbed it, caressed it, cuddled it and put it in my will, especially after i saw how beautifully its pulls matched the silver pulls on the existing ikea cabinetry.


other fridges do, too: the new fridge, however, has done a great job not ruining the kitchen or anything else. welcome home, fridge!

The Return of the Love Note

i can't believe that it's been over a year since i posted one of these love notes. apparently Mo has been slacking with his dry-erase board drawing duties, but i think i may have found one of his sweet spots that reduces him to putty in my hand. i won't disclose much of it here beyond saying that it involves buying him beer and cooking him bacon.

The L Word

a few concerned readers (my parents) have asked me how my job situation is and whether the dreaded layoffs my company announced in march have finally occurred. sadly they have not yet occurred, and i use “sadly” here because imagine the anxiety of coming into work for the past two months wondering, “is today the day?”

imagine the whispered conversations with coworkers by the water cooler that go something like, “hey, heard anything?”
“no, have you?”
“no.”
“what do you think is gonna happen?”
“i don’t know. what do you think is gonna happen?”
“i’m not sure either. it’s messed up, man.”
“yeah, it is. but hey, i heard there were leftover donuts in the breakroom.”
“cool, let’s go check it out.”

tragic, right?

imagine the sleepless nights and wild dreams spent worrying about the future. just the other night i dreamed that i walked into work and was intercepted at the elevator by some faceless HR drone with a clipboard who led me into a room where a few dozen of my coworkers were already waiting. it became clear that the drones were leading everyone into different rooms where we would all wait to find out our fate, American Idol style.

through the glass doors, i could see Randy, Paula, Simon and that new judge entering rooms to tell us employees, “sorry, the journey ends here,” or “congratulations, you’ve made it to the next round!” some rooms erupted in cheers, others in wails. then they approached the room i was in and walked through the door in slow motion. i looked around to see whether i was in good or bad company and saw that others were doing the same. it was impossible to tell as there were bad and good seeds (and singers) among us.

a lump gathered in my throat as Paula began to speak. as usual, she seemed drunk, maybe drugged, slurring her words and ribbing on Simon. she even leaned over and squeezed his nipple before throwing her head back and laughing maniacally. confused looks shot all across the room and i looked over at Randy, wishing he would call me his “dawg” like he did during Hollywood Week.

then Paula became serious, steadying herself to finally deliver the news. i could feel myself twitching nervously, a panic overtaking my body as i waited for her to tell me whether i could still pay my mortgage after today. she was about to say it, the words rolling slowly out of her mouth while my heart pounded in my chest.

then i woke up.

One-Hit Wonders: May 2009

• how to start a conversation to jerk off


• japanese girls hot sexis


• overproducing snot


• high school wasn't that traumatic


• AryanDoctor.com


• i fucked my mil stories


• maytag fridge keeps triping out


• straitjacket sneakers orgasm


• big tits and sexy ass hole pic


• the most friendest towns in the us.


• why is new york city so alluring


• ma jerks me off

The Home-Improvement Chronicles: The Doorway

the before shot: this doorway, with its obnoxious geometric shape, is another one of the inexplicable uglies my beautiful house suffered from. the previous owner seemed to be trim-averse — despite living in a 1920s bungalow — with only a handful of doors and windows having any sort of molding, most of which was attached with staples. love that Chuy.


Mo says hi: we were going to fix the doorway during the house gutting and fix-up that was done prior to move-in, but vetoed it in favor of replacing the rotted subflooring. Mo and i have quietly endured the eyesore for a year, smiling politely when friends have come over and said, “oh, it’s not so bad the way it is. i kind of like it.” thanks, guys, but we know it looks like shit.


enter Leaky Fridge Drama: the drama, which is 95% resolved, provided the perfect opportunity to finally fix this hot mess of a doorway. thankfully we had some trim left over, so the extra expense was reasonable and the extra mess blended in seamlessly with the kitchen disaster just around the corner.


the after shot: for the first time, the four doorways in this area looked cohesive, symmetrical and even happy. or maybe it was just Mo and i who were happy to finally see the kids wearing matching outfits and looking alike. no more red-headed stepchild of a doorway to endure.


aren’t they cute? the twins in the corner even befriended their brother, or at least stopped calling him Hexagon Head. then they all ran out to the yard and played kickball.


the deck door agrees: a little trim does a house good.

The Sads

aside from that first week spent in new york, i had an intense case of The Sads all through april. i think the new york trip played into this considerably in the way that vacations tend to produce depressions fixated on the idea that life should always be a vacation.

i became fixated on the idea that my life should be, as well as the lives of my friends whom i would visit in various cities around the country at a moment’s notice. together, we would go out to fancy meals, drink pricey bottles of wine, visit museums, see movies and plays, and enjoy each other’s company without ever having to worry about the scary Excel spreadsheet waiting for us at the office.

but the scary spreadsheet beckoned and i soon found myself in the office again, immersed in daily shit storms that brought long hours and endless office drama. add to that the looming threat of layoffs “any day now” and the nonstop rumors on how big they would be. (“bloodbath” was the term bandied around the most.)

then add to that a rocky home life born of the leaky fridge drama and the fact that Mo and i had been bickering about everything and nothing for weeks. plus, my birth control pill was making me a complete lunatic, no doubt intensifying my Sads into a case of The I Can’t Do Anything Rights.

i even saw people grabbing their children and running away from me on the street when they saw me and my unhappy aura walking toward them. it got so bad that my own dogs wouldn’t play with me despite the steak i attached to my neck. and there was that piece of spinach always stuck to my tooth and the pile of poo permanently attached to my shoe.

i seriously felt like the Sad Girl in those commercials for antidepressants, the one who walks around with a little cloud raining just over her while smiling children frolic in a meadow nearby. i even thought of taking some antidepressants despite my disbelief in them. ultimately i opted not to.

(of course, i speak only for myself in poo-pooing antidepressants. if you take them and they work for you, more power to them and to you. i just don’t want to take any mood medications because i don’t believe i have a chemical imbalance that needs correcting. you might, though. but trust me, i’m not crazy. so what if i speak to aliens you can’t see? it only means you’re not as perceptive. where’s that voice coming from anyway? it’s commanding me to eat cheesecake. weird.)

these Sads were getting out of control and too often became The Mads that turned even the usually cute things the puppies do (Pinko talking) into a source of tremendous frustration. i didn’t feel like writing, and when i tried, all that came out was, “this blog entry sucks.” i began thinking i would never again have a day when i woke up feeling optimistic. instead it was all irritability, all the time. even cheesecake didn’t help.

and then it happened. May happened and the tide turned. two huge work projects finally launched, making the workday feel more like a workday and less like finals week in college. suddenly i could breathe a little easier. then the kitchen flooring finally arrived, as did a new refrigerator (photos forthcoming). then i got news that my mom found a job after months of unemployment (pops is still out of work). then Mo and i had a series of great days when we kissed and made up, which lead to more kissing and even some heavy petting.

gradually i woke up each day feeling better, calmer and more optimistic, charmed again by Pinko’s incessant chatter. it’s amazing what a little heavy petting can do. also amazing is what a little yoga can do, and also a pill switcheroo courtesy of my doctor. plus, i picked up some mighty nice freelance work that made me reconsider applying for that part-time job as the Towel Girl at the Y. the universe really does provide!

i’d like to think it provided me with a shitty April so i could appreciate a spectacular May, but with the month not even half over and layoffs still looming, i can’t be sure. what i am sure of is that the last 11 days have not sucked hard enough to make me respond to the Starbucks barista who always says “good morning” to me with, “yeah, what’s so good about it? huh, bitch? tell me because i’d really like to know.”

i only hope this trend continues, though i doubt it will because, clearly, the Entire Universe Is Against Me. now if you’ll excuse me, a strange voice is ordering me to eat cheesecake. i must obey.

One-Hit Wonders: April 2009

• milla jovovich's cell phone number


• photos of termite feces


• 500 yards is 1 milla


• keflex for ingrown toenail infected badly


• low hangers


• milla cause and how to treat


• +wife +corset +straitjacket


• 38d uncovered tits (self taken pics)


• ecstasy seizures "eye twitch"


• www.milla.is.a.homo.dk


• family matters when father carves the duck


• tania amazon is as happy as retard in a crayon factory

The City So Nice

i spent the first week of april in new york, hanging with good friends and loving on the city more than i usually do. it’s a love that surprised me especially, given my generally lukewarm feelings for new york, which amount to regarding it as a great place to visit, awful place to live. but this trip was different. this trip, i found myself enamored with aspects of the city i’ve long disliked, like the subway, which is still a cesspool of bacteria that makes me yearn for a full-body chemical peel each time i ride it, but it does go places — far more places than the cleaner LA metro. i can't say it didn't make me jealous.

even the congestion, the prices, the daily hassles that make life in the city seem like an endless pain in the ass suddenly appeared exciting. i found myself taken by the fuss of it all, infected by the contagious energy that defines new york and its residents, my fabulous friends among them, who make living there look so glamorous and alluring. there’s a palpable feeling among them that they’re the privileged few who live at the center of the world where everything important happens. this trip, i felt that, too. this trip, i wanted to remain a part of it. i thought of defecting, of uprooting and restarting.

the thoughts lingered as i looked upon the faces of my smiling friends, while sitting across the table from them for drinks and dinner, drinks and brunch, sometimes just drinks and drinks, spending days with them loitering in central park, at the whitney, eating oysters at grand central station, pub crawls through the lower east side, meals in fancy restaurants, shopping in soho, even a celebrity sighting.

life was good in new york. i had fun in new york. it was an intense, much-needed fun, my first real getaway since taking on the house last year. only when i was flying home to los angeles, eager to see the pups and enter into Mo’s arms again, did i realize that all my daydreaming about living in new york was the result of a damn good vacation, one that hypnotizes you with escapist fantasies. a week of work-free gluttony, spent anywhere, will do that.

now that i’m back in LA, back to the daily grind and still dealing with the evil fridge, i no longer daydream about moving to new york, only vacationing there again, anywhere again. (i hear cruises are cheap.) big thanks to the friends who made new york so enjoyable by housing, feeding and liquoring me up: jon-david, cesar, john john, karen, als and zahra. all nyc photos can be viewed here and below.

Pinko & Mo Conversating