By Beauty Damned

What Doing?

I have been doing other stuff aside from watching shitty tv and reading trash, smokin cigarettes and sipping coronas. Yeah. I'm a classy gal. I know it.

Work is good. Weekends are better.

The air conditioning in my office kills me everyday. I freeze and no matter what I do in terms of contacting the proper people to get it taken care of, it is still icy cold, every day, while outside the sun is beating down a hundred degrees, humidity is through the roof, literally hell on earth as far as most New Yorkers are concerned. New Yorkers love to complain. They complain all day long. It's what they do. It's a way of life, actually. I have a heater at my desk in the middle of summer. Everytime I get up and go to the bathroom I come back shivering and have to warm myself. Apparently our building can't seem to figure out how to turn the temperature up a notch. This is how we complain. Then we go outside and bitch about how gross and hot it is.

So every weekend I try to do something fun, get out, enjoy the heat, find a body of water in which to immerse myself. I've been to Coney Island a couple times and last weekend Kathleen and Kimberly and I braved the public pool in Sunset Park. I haven't been to a public pool since I was a kid. I used to live across the street from Santa Monica Community College in L.A. That's where I learned to swim and on the weekends it was 50 cents to swim all day. It was a big beautiful Olympic size pool with another pool that was 12 ft deep beside it. That one had a high-dive. I loved the high-dive. Anyway this pool in Sunset Park didn't have any diving boards at all and it certainly didn't have a 12 ft deep pool. The water felt nice but I was skeeved out about all the people and hair and dead skin and any excretions and all that is associated with public pools. When I did handstands I could feel all kinds of creepy sediment on the bottom of the pool. I don’t know if the one in Santa Monica was less skeevey (I doubt it) or if when you’re a kid you just don’t give a shit about other peoples’ grime (that’s probably it), but I am pretty sure that's going to be the last time I ever go there. I'm glad I checked it out, but the more I think back on it, the more I realize I'd take the beach instead anytime.

In other news re: Maria’s kickass summer, I've never cooked brunch for a crowd before. I made Huevos Rancheros for 8 people over at my friend Jen Katz's house last Sunday. I've never cooked that fast for that many people. I could be a line cook. I never knew that about myself. I cooked 8 tortillas and 16 eggs faster than I ever imagined I might be able to. Kathleen spread the refried beans on the tortillas and I topped them with cheesy fried eggs. Kathleen made a beautiful fresh salsa with lots of cilantro and lime. That and sour cream were thrown on at leisure. I know I don't have to tell you that they were the bomb. Every bite was ecstatic. Of course, I can only speak for myself but it’s quite possible that if I were going to the electric chair, I would want that to be my last meal (I’m a simple girl and almost nothing makes me happier than good Mexican food). Jen cooked up some veggie sausages and some delicious Italian sausages and amazing potatoes with bell peppers and mushrooms and onions. And of course, we had mimosas, and when the champagne ran out we had mango rum, orange juice and seltzer. After we ate and enjoyed being in the kitchen, we all went up to the roof of Jen’s apartment and checked out the view. It was lovely. An experience I hope to repeat again soon. Now I've gone and made myself famished.

Foooooood.

This weekend Rob is taking Kathleen, Charles and I on a little trip to Pennsylvania for a couple Heelys demos. I'm excited to go on a roadtrip with my best friend and her boyfriend and my boyfriend and stay in fun hotel rooms that we don't have to pay for and work for Heelys, which is good times. I love Robert's jobs. They always come with perks. He's worked for Heelys for a long time, but when he worked at MGM it was the movie premiere parties and now it's fun roadtrips and hotels. He gets amazing deals on Priceline and pays heed to the bottom line, but he always makes sure his girl is comfortable. I'm not high maintenance, but there's nothing I hate more than a Super 8 or Days Inn. The best part is that I get to spend the entire weekend with Rob, which is rare because he almost always works weekends. I only get to hang with him if I work too. So I'm pretty hyped about our excursion that starts tomorrow. Yay! Room service! Swimming pool! (not public!) Here I come.

Junk

You know what it is? I'm overwhelmed. I have a hundred thousand thoughts running through my head every time I sit down to write. Everything I've done for the past six months, everything I've read, everything I've reminded myself to blog about, but haven't, all stored up, waiting to be poured out. It's an insane feeling of not knowing what to do or say first.

I could tell you about....

The weird prank call I got where someone told me they'd found my cat, and when I told them that I actually found her already and it must be someone else's cat, they said "I'm eating your cat right now"... Yes. Eating. When I hung up the person called back and left a message letting me know that they were going to find out where I live and kill my cat and dig her heart out with a spoon. PSYCHO! Maybe it was the weird neighbor...how fucked up would that be? I input my phone number into google and was relieved when it didn't come up with my home address, even though I knew the calls were just a retarded prank from some little speedfreak assholes anyway.

I saw Tatum O'Neal all by her lonesome on Park Avenue yesterday. I didn't say hi, just took a note. Then in the Daily News today there was a tidbit about her being party to some rucous that took place on a New York city tour bus on Tuesday night, where O'Neal and friends purportedly refused to sit down on the upper deck, causing the bus driver to become a very angry man. According to the Daily News, the driver was shouting "we're gonna lose our jobs!...We don't have fancy jobs like you people!!!" I imagine he was also shaking his fist to emphasize his severe dismay. D'tk'r'jbs!

And speaking of self absorbed celebrities, there's no shortage of those to dish about. See I just said "dish." That's a surefire sign that celebrities will be involved in the topic of conversation. Where to begin? Jude Law, you're a fucking moron. Same goes for Tom Cruise. Obviously, two far different breeds of moron. Jude is of the incorrigable and deadly trouser-snake variety. Cruise is of the ignoramous-scientologis type which is more annoying, but less harmful than the trouser-snake. Sienna, don't look back sweetheart. Katie, stop eating your crazyflakes and run fast my child. Run fast and far.

Speaking of Tom Cruise, I saw that War of the Worlds fiasco. Boy was that movie a hunk of dung. I read many rave reviews that seemed totally willing to overlook all the stupid plot holes, cheeztastic moments and lame ending. That's fine, but I'm going to come out and tell you the truth in case you haven't already wasted your money on this crappy movie: it's terrible. The special effects are not worth the dough, though they were momentarily entertaining while displaying in front of me for a couple of hours. But not entertaining enough for one to endure the entire movie.

I saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith too. That was better. Anything with Angelina Jolie OR Brad Pitt is automatically better than anything with Tom Cruise. It's an incontrovertible fact. But I did actually think it was a pretty entertaining movie, as far as action flicks go, though they never are my favorite.

I went ahead and watched a couple of episodes each of "Being Bobby Brown" and "The Surreal Life," both of which are completely insane. Turns out, Bobby Brown is an immature lout and Whitney Houston seems pretty unenthusiastic about her fate in the episodes I saw. Maybe she just wasn't used to the cameras yet, but she seemed under the weather quite a bit. And their daughter Bobby Kristina looks pretty damn somber herself. I don't know what they're doing, but it wasn't enough to make me want to keep watching. Or maybe it was... who knows when I'll stumble upon it again, but as far as I can see, it's just another huge waste of time.

It also turns out that Janice Dickinson, (who feels perpetually compelled to proclaim that she was the World's First Supermodel) is one more to throw up on our menagerie of crazy celebrities. Anyone who can make Omarosa Manigault Stallwit - or whatever her crazyass name is - look sane and normal, has got to be a true crackpot. And Janice is. One minute she's flashing her ass at her housemates (not that there's anything wrong with that), and calling mentally handicapped people at the bowling alley "Retards," (I'm outraged!!! a little. Some were kind of mean little bastards though.) but the next she's crying about how she can't perform in a non-nude burlesque show because if she exposes so much as a shoulder or a leg, she will "be splashed on the cover of every newspaper tomorrow morning, all over the world, in every language because [SHE] is an international SUPERSTAR." Period. Which is why she is on the Surreal Life. Duh. Ego or Insecurity? Who can tell?

Lately I have enjoyed watching reruns of Oz, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Sex and the City, and whatever good movies are on. I also recently read that book "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey, which I thought was amazing and you should read.

This is what it's come to. Summer is for indulgence, no?

Another Revival

Hello my friends! My loooong lost friends. At some point earlier this year, all my motivation to sit down and stay still and create sentences and scour current events began to fail me. From the looks of things, my lethargy and laziness have gotten the best of this blog and the more time that passes, the less inclined I am to try and post.

The biggest reason for this is the feeling that I've fallen behind. The other reason is that I've just felt like doing other things. It's summer. There's all kinds of stuff to do outside and I get stir crazy every time I sit down at my computer at home.

Excuses aside, I am going to try and get back into a groove. I know I've been saying that for a long time, but I really mean it.

My boyfriend is Hot

R.I.P. Grandpa Raymond

Sadly, I never knew my grandpa Raymond very well. He was the victim of a terrible car accident when my mother was very little and he was left with permanent brain damage. In a time when it was difficult for a woman to get on with a few kids and no husband, my grandmother Beverly, a school principal, remarried a wonderful man named Buddy.

We visited Raymond a lot more when I was a kid, but as the years passed it became less and less. His sister Elsie took care of him his whole life since the accident, but towards the end I think she was tired of it and that's when she got a little anxious to let him pass. He was never a vegetable. Always recognized us, but had a lot of trouble communicating normally. I have become increasingly bothered and guilty over the past few years that we haven't seen more of Grandpa Raymond. My mother has spent more time in Arizona over the last year as his health has declined. I always felt terrible for Raymond. Like his life was snatched out from under him. The life that he already thought he had in his grasp. A beautiful wife and a gorgeous towheaded brood and a whole future of love and family waiting to be had beneath the brilliant Arizona sky. Instead it was all gone in a heartbeat. I love my Grandpa Raymond, and I will always hold on to the few memories I have of him. He always looked so happy to see his grandchildren. He wanted to squeeze us so tight, sometimes he would forget his own strength. He was a big, tall, redfaced man with a smile that was always genuine. I will forever regret not having spent more time with him before he passed away. He had a gracious soul. May He Rest in Peace.

Young Raymond

Raymond with my mother, Tara

Raymond, Beverly and their children, Tara, Dana and Lane.

Raymond with the kids

It's ALIVE!!!

Damn. My blog looks like it had a coronary. I guess I should try to breathe some life into this bitch. ;o)

Actually, I don't know if it's much of a time for those types of jokes...

Rob and I just returned from our visit to Ashland, Oregon for the 4th of July, etc. It's always a mixed bag when I have visited home over the past couple of years. Family difficulties. My latest motto has been "if there's no drama, it ain't family." My family has had drama-a-plenty over the past two years. Actually, come to think of it, we've always had drama, it's just never been so internal as it is now. I hate to blab about overly personal issues online, but it's hard when that's all you can think about. My brother is very physically ill and has been fighting health problems in and out of the hospital for a long time now. Meanwhile my sister has morphed into rebellion-central at the ripe age of 23. I seem to be the only one who is solidly standing on my own two feet. I wish that weren't true. My siblings are such great people - super talented and amazingly smart. Both of them. And even though we were raised in the same household by the same excellent parents, our life experiences are all so individualized. What's ironic is that I am the middle child. I am such a worrier. Of course, I know in my heart that my sister will be fine, though I feel some indignation towards her at the moment. Always tempered with love of course. I just wish I felt so confident about my brother. I don't want him to have to live his life this way. In a hospital bed. In pain. My heart aches for him. My brother is one of the most important people in this universe to me. He is my friend and my hero. I just wish he could conquer this ruthless malady.

Aside from these familial sagas and the yanking of heartstrings, we had a great time in Oregon. We gave it our all. Life goes on right? We went swimming a lot and ate at our favorite restaurants and enjoyed more than a couple of cocktails. Rob and I camped out in a huge tent in the backyard of my parents' house for the duration of our trip. The weather was so amazing and the tent was like a castle (huge!). We snuggled close under the stars at night and woke up sprawled under the sun every the morning.

Darcie and Tom stayed there with us the first couple of nights. It was fun - like having a slumber party with my best friend...and BOYS. On the 2nd we went to Darcie's 10 year high school reunion. I pretended it was mine too, but it was really my 9 year high school reunion. I was a paying attendee, yet I was still crashing. We had a good time. There was a fun group of old friends. We segregated ourselves much the same way we did in high school. All the "stoners" out in the garden, smokin cigarettes and downing cocktails, looking much like we all did in high school, but a more cleaned up version, while the "jocks" and "hicks" stayed inside for the most part, looking - I think - older and fatter and far more matronly than one might have expected. Perhaps my good friend said it best when he looked at me and blurted "it's weird to see girls that I thought were super hot in high school and realize that if I'd gotten what I wanted, right now I could be married to one of their fat asses." (Not that there's anything wrong with a fat ass. No offense is intended here to my readers with a more ample derriere.) I know, it's so cruel. But it was a high school reunion. It's supposed to be catty, right? Or is it supposed to be a time of reflection and comradery? I dunno...that kind of goes out the window when you remember how mean kids were in highschool. That's when the pleasure of shit-talking about former classmates comes into play.

Aside from all that, so many old friends were a sight for sore eyes. It was an entertaining affair starring a good cast of characters and we may have left too soon when we decided to hit the bars instead. That was kind of a mistake. The service in the bars downtown Ashland can be a crapshoot. The night of the reunion it seemed that snotty attitudes and neglectful treatment of patrons was in full force. We went home in a cab, bitching about bad bartenders.

My parents threw a party on the 4th. All kinds of fun people showed up, the food was excellent, we lit off some bitchin fireworks, and then we took a ride downtown to see the city fireworks. They were so short that we watched them out the window all the way to the college parking lot and when we got there, the grand finale was already in progress. Cheap bastards. Then we walked to a party about a block away which was being chaperoned by the always amicable Ashland Police Department. We stood in the front yard behind the wooden fence drinking beers while the pigs hung out in the street waiting for any unseemly activity to occur. "Big Brother" did come to mind and tongue. Nothing ever happens in Ashland. I guess that's the problem. Those guys have nothing better to do than wait outside of a house party for an intoxicated individual to wander off the property and do something stupid. That's pretty much the extent of the APD's job description.

Needless to say, we left that party shortly and headed even further downtown for more socializing. We ended up at the Vinyl Club, where everyone was. I don't have the sharpest recollection of what went on, but I know that I felt fine in the morning. In fact, despite the quantity of alcohol that I did consume while on vacation, I feel that I paced myself well and managed to avoid any hangovers that might have caused me to enjoy my trip less.

The only thing that brought me down was the trivial aggravation of America Worst (the shittiest airline EVER), and the devastating sight of my brother going through a heap of misery. Obviously, one was much more painful than the other. I don't wish illness on any family. There are few things more heartbreaking than seeing someone you love existing in a state of suffering. To make things even more interesting, my grandfather Raymond passed away on Thursday. It was awhile in coming, so it wasn't unexpected and he was quite old. My mother seemed more relieved than heartbroken. Not because she didn't love her dad, but because the final year of his life was a tumultuous one. RIP Grandpa Raymond.

So the whole trip was bittersweet. At the same time that it feels great to be home in NY, I miss my family so much already and wish that I could be there to see my brother and my parents through this time. I also wouldn't mind spending the rest of my summer swimming in the Illinois River and camping out in my parents' backyard... But NY calls.