Next up: PosiTAno! (said in my best Italian accent)

Jamaica may have to wait. I've fallen in love with (pictures of) Italy again.

*swoons

Not as good as Under the Tuscan Sun, but not too shabby either

I finally saw Eat Pray Love this past weekend and I can’t say that I was terribly disappointed, but it did occur to me that if I hadn’t read the book, I might have been. The primary point of the movie was left out, as a couple of the Yahoo movie reviewers previously noted, and Liz Gilbert seemed like an insanely confused white woman on the verge of something incredibly stupid. Like, she’d lost her entire mind and would, at any moment, be committed to a mental institution. She didn’t read like that in the book, though, unless I read it wrong, lol. To me, she came across in the book as someone who was tired of living the way society felt she was should live. She wasn’t happy with her marriage, which only came about because it was expected of her by others. And, in order to get over the disappointment of her failed marriage and subsequent divorce, she jumped headfirst into what promised to be a disastrous relationship with a younger man. Eventually, she decided that the best way to pull herself out of the muck she had created was to get as far away from it as possible. The first stop being Italy, where she let go of herself and her waistline, happily overindulging on good food. She used food as a healer in Italy, then came prayer and discipline in India, then practicing being balanced and content in Indonesia, where she stumbled on love. Eat Pray Love. Well, the movie crammed all of that together so that it wasn’t as coherent as it was in the book. I’m sure it must be difficult to translate words and emotion into action without subtitles or a narrator (or maybe I’m just providing excuses for Brad Pitt). Under the Tuscan Sun was able to do this by simply including the heroine, Frances Mays, as narrator throughout the film. But Brad Pitt, who directed “Eat,” and whoever wrote the screenplay didn’t pull it off.

Fortunately, I knew exactly what was going on at all times because I had read the book and the movie followed the story to a T (except for the ending, but I'll get to that). But my movie buddy was lost and bored. For instance, in the book it is explained that Ketut Liyer, the old Indonesian medicine man, doesn’t speak English very well so he confuses the greeting “Good to see you” with “Good to MEET you,” instead. So the viewer is left thinking that this old man has no idea who Julia Roberts is and forgets her every time she leaves him. Julia Roberts sucked, by the way. But Javier Bardem and the guy who played Richard from Texas (his name escapes me) were great. If you go see this movie not having read the book first, you will be left wondering what the flipping point was, or how she could afford to just get up and live abroad for a year “finding” herself, after giving away all of her possessions and money in her divorce. And speaking of her divorce, it was clear to me in the movie why she wanted one, so I don’t understand how anyone could think she left a perfectly good marriage and was being extreme and selfish. That man didn’t know whether he was coming or going. He didn’t support her in any way and was extremely fickle-minded, changing careers constantly, and then expected her to put him through graduate school knowing that he couldn’t commit and was historically unstable. It was obvious that they both wanted different things from their marriage.

The only part that I didn’t like about the movie was how they changed the most important part – the ending. They got lazy, and rather than make it clear why Liz had cold feet with Felipe, they just made her appear even crazier than they had initially. There’s a part in the book that was left out of the movie, where Liz, in so many words, says that she needed to be her own father. She was lamenting on how in India and with some other cultures, the father or parents select a spouse for their children, with their children’s input, in most cases. Yet in her case, everyone assumed that at 22 she knew what she was doing when she chose her first husband. She didn’t ask all the important questions that she imagined a caring father would ask his daughters suitor – are you financially stable, are you sane, what’s your future look like, etc. etc. She had gotten married for all the wrong reasons, and mainly because everyone else wanted and expected her to. When she realized she wasn’t happy she began to question everything about herself. Frankly put, she lost it and needed to do more than a little soul searching. So when she met Felipe, after finally forgiving herself for all her past mistakes and sadness and heartache, after finally finding balance in her life on her own and without having to give herself wholly to someone else to be complete, she was naturally a little scared. But Ketut reassured her (I won’t spoil the book entirely, lol) and she trusted herself.

It played out much better in the book, I promise. But the movie wasn’t too shabby, either. Go see it if you like watching the Travel Channel or flipping through Conde Nast. Bali and Italy look awesome :)

Eat, Pray, Love...Rant!!

I haven’t gone to see the movie yet but I have read many of the reviews on Yahoo Movies and, just like with the movie Riding in Cars with Boys, men generally suck at reviewing chick flicks… frankly.

So many people are bashing this woman’s true life story because she “left a perfectly good man” that she wasn’t happy with. Apparently, it is criminal to leave an unhappy situation with someone you don’t hate, who doesn’t beat, cheat or regularly berate you. How appallingly ungrateful it is not to accept the perfectly nice guy as he is and live happily ever after. I know plenty of people who fit the “perfectly fine/nice” description, men and women alike, who don’t beat, cheat or berate me but that doesn’t mean that I’d want to spend the rest of my life as their mate. And if you feel like that makes me spoiled and ungrateful, kindly get the fuck out of here. It’s as if they all feel that, with the extremely high rate of male infidelity/indecision/inability to settle, any woman would be a plum fool to walk out on a nice guy in exchange for being alone. Being alone gets such a bad rap! It’s so unfortunate.

Allow me to put on my feminist t-shirt for just a moment and point out that unmarried women outlive their married counterparts, and unmarried men die before their married counterparts. Why? Because the married woman (God bless her heart) is typically signing up for a life of hard domestic labor. She is no longer just taking care of the household, no. In today’s day she is also out there bringing home the bacon and, after a long day among pigs, expected to come home and fry it up, as well cater to a grown man and kid(s). Add to that the stresses of pregnancy, childbirth, post partum depression, post-baby body image, and crying, needy children and…well, any woman who claims that she’d gladly to take all that on in exchange for living like Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat Pray Love, is a bold faced liar or a fool. That is not to say that all marriages or relationships operate this way, but the vast majority of them are fixed on this 1950s-meets-new-millenium model. Was Liz Gilbert being selfish? Yes, and? Who doesn't do anything that doesn't satisfy them? Who can honestly claim to be a true martyr? Every gift you've given or received was for your benefit. What do you do that is completely selfless? I'd love to know.

These Yahoos (movie reviewers) are also angry that she was fortunate enough to not have anything stopping her from traveling to and living in three countries for an entire year. Downright angry over it, even, lol. Whoever said the truth can be stranger than fiction was a genius, yet these movie critics can’t seem to see beyond their own honking noses. I happened to like the book. No, I do not have the money or time to spend a year living in three countries, but I know some folks who very likely could if they wanted to. Nor, am I white, blonde, or over 6 feet tall, either. I do admit that somewhere along the time she spent in India and just after she arrived in Indonesia, I put the book down for more than 6 months, only picking it up again when I found out that they were turning it into a movie. But that does not negate the many valuable lessons in it, which made it a joy for me to read. I have more than a handful of the pages earmarked for quick access to sage gems. Now, according to some of the positive reviews, Hollywood left out the main message of the story and decided to glamorize it out, as they often do. If this is indeed true, and the movie is devoid of any substance, rendering it a truly nauseating chick flick (the kind I don’t like, lol) then, okay. I will accept a smidgen of defeat and allow (some of) the Yahoo movie critics their say, unchallenged. I can deal with Javier Bardem being cast as the 50 year old Felipe. But if I go see this movie and it is even a little bit wonderful, I’m bashing the hell out of those backwards, chauvinistic Yahoos.

Under the California Sun

The days are heating up and summer is finally here in Southern Cali, which means Operation: Bring Sexy Back is in full motherfucking effect. The diet is shaping up swell, but with so much to do, see, and plan, it’s hard for me to squeeze in time for formal exercise. I do my 15 minute brisk walk around the “compound” most days after lunch (other days I’m napping in the car. Did I mention that I take the best naps there? Well, I do) and when I get home I’m either watching something on TNT or HGTV, cooking, cleaning, or taking care of something imminent. I count cleaning as exercise, though, and I’ll throw in about 10 push ups to make it official. And I don’t mean the pansy kind of push ups, either. I’m talking straight military style, baby – legs straight. One night before bed I started doing them and my guy friend was stunned. He sat up in bed and made such a stupid fuss that I couldn’t finish my set for laughing so hard. As if ladies can’t do push ups off our knees. SMH. Anyway, when the house is clean and there is no dinner to be made, I flip my mental switch and imagine myself traipsing along the beach in Brazil in a hot, red THONG bikini J (Yeah, buddy, lol) while my perfectly sculpted PHAT ass and long, lean ridiculously sexy legs force everyone to stare, mouths agape. Then I smile slyly and stick my ipod on the Bose docking station, turn that sucker up HIGH and begin my pre-workout warm up shimmying and shaking all over my living room. Once the good old blood is pumping I have energy to spare, I’m feeling good and high off endorphins, and my workout begins. I’ve also written a list of 20 reasons why I’m working out (e.g., healthy heart, lower cholesterol, increased energy, better mood, etc.). It’s titled “I AM LOSING WEIGHT BECAUSE...”

And I’m not doing too shabby. Especially when I look at Facebook pictures of my relatives in the Midwest. L Egads! It’s such a shame how fat many of them are. And it seems to be the norm. Everybody seems to think they’re still sexy. My little cousin has tree trunk calves at age 23. She posted some pictures of herself on holiday while wearing a super smedium t-shirt and some teeny tiny shorts. Looked like she had “K” leg, as my mother calls it – her thighs were hugging and parted at the knees. And her waist looked like the Michelin tire guy’s body. Flipping through the rest of her pics and I realized it was a theme that everyone is okay with. Only the men were normal sized. Fat American’s; it’s true. We are the supersized nation.

Anyway, I’m not in the Midwest, thankfully. It’s not so accepted here. So I’m getting back on my game, hardcore. Planning to lay out under this fine California sunshine until fall crashes the party. I’ll be at the beach this weekend and most likely next weekend, too.

It’s 8:43am and the temperature outside is already in the 80s. Dios mio.

Jesus Spam

If we're lucky, we have someone who spams us constantly with emails about God/The Lord/Jesus Christ. Even if we don't read them. Just having someone who hopes and prays for our wellbeing is a blessing in itself, in my opinion. My Jesus spammer, much like yours I bet, usually sends me forwards that, at the end of the message, either tries to elicit guilt in me if I don't send the email on to X amount of people in X amount of time, or tries to scare or trick me into believing something bogus, like "if you love/have time for/believe in God, you'll do xy&z...," etc. But sometimes they can be way over the top. Anyway, today my Jesus Spammer sent me this , and I liked it enough to forward it on...and post it here :)

I hope you like it too:

If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.

The Poem

I knelt to pray but not for long,

I had too much to do.

I had to hurry and get to work

For bills would soon be due.

So I knelt and said a hurried prayer,

And jumped up off my knees

My Christian duty was now done

My soul could rest at ease

All day long I had no time

To spread a word of cheer

No time to speak of Christ to friends

They'd laugh at me I'd fear

No time, no time, too much to do,

That was my constant cry,

No time to give to souls in need

But at last the time, the time to die

I went before the Lord,

I came, I stood with downcast eyes.

For in his hands God held a book;

It was the book of life.

God looked into his book and said

'Your name I cannot find

I once was going to write it down...

But never found the time'

My moment on the "catwalk"

The photo shoot was a slight disappointment. I didn’t expect it to go perfectly, although I strongly wished it had. This was my very first, and most likely my last, professional photo shoot for a publication. Of course, I wanted it to go as I’d always dreamed it would. But when they emailed me that hair and makeup would be minimal and that they wanted us in our “natural state” and to arrive with freshly cleaned, dry hair sans any styling products, I was confused. My hair is naturally curly. If I wash out all of my natural oils and don’t replace them with any, my hair is not going to dry, um… beautifully. My natural state, sans product would look sort of cave womanish. And then, trying to style my naturally curly hair while dry would be an even worse disaster. Couple that with my shoot location being the beach, and I was sure to have a dry, frizzy, salty-headed mess. So, I decided it might be best to straighten my tresses and trust that the stylist could do some minor maintenance. I still followed the rules and put nothing in my hair, hoping that the stylist would at least spritz me with a little holding spray.

Now, my company’s annual picnic at Universal Studios was the same day as the shoot so by the time I left the picnic, 4.5 hours later, my hair was not at its best and I was dead tired. Still optimistic though, I high stepped it into the studio smiling and warm-spirited. This was going to be a great, once in a lifetime experience J

I was the first of the last 3 women to be shot that day – the first to be shot on the beach and the 3rd to the last to be shot since 6am that morning. It was 4pm when I arrived and the crew was still somewhat upbeat, cha-cha-sliding to the cha-cha-slide song that came on the radio and drinking wine. I got my hair and makeup done simultaneously so I couldn’t see a thing that was happening to me. But from the feel of things I was getting much more than minimal makeup and much less than minimal styling. The stylist flat ironed my hair a bit more to remove the excess waves that I had sweated into my hair while traipsing around Universal Studios and riding roller coasters, then she created two tiny braids on each side of my head and connected them in the back. The makeup artist painted a Picasso on my face. She used wet makeup and a soft brush, covering every inch of my face from ear to ear, and scalp to chin. I barely recognized myself when she was done and my hair had zero pizzazz. Yet, still hopeful, I smiled and followed the crew 1.5 blocks down to the beach in nothing but a pair of flip flops, my robe and my panties. All eyes seemed to be on us – and particularly me, the girl in her robe and a ton of makeup.

Despite the somewhat muggy day on Saturday, the beach was jam packed and I was instructed to ignore everyone and just be a model. They wrapped a blanket around me and changed me out of my robe and into a thin piece of fabric right there at the waters edge and soon enough, I had forgotten about all of the people watching. Mainly because of all the direction I was being given by Tomiko, the real model, and Natiya, the photographer.

“Turn left… rest your eyes… stop squinting… back up a bit… imagine you’re an island girl… where are you? …Feel unbound… try not to get the fabric wet…”

Then, after a wave suddenly plowed into all of us and wet the bottom of my fabric dress, they asked me why I was running from the water 0_0 By this time, my hair was a mess and I didn’t know whether to turn left, right, pose, jump, smile, or cry. My bangs had lost their curl and my hair felt like straw from the salty beach air.

“Let’s give her beach hair!” they said, and then proceeded to take down the tiny little braids the stylist had connected in the back of my head. “Toss your hair, bend over.” So I did and my hair went wild with the wind. “You want to do that? O_o , Oh. Okay,” exclaimed Tomiko, the real supermodel. I was thoroughly confused and could only imagine how horrible my pictures looked because of this beach hair and my frozen poses.

Although the photographer made me feel beautiful while I was standing there being shot, as soon as I was done I felt like I hadn’t done my best and needed a do-over, this time knowing precisely what to do (mainly, my own hair!). But after about 20 frames, my time was up. My once in a lifetime opportunity had passed in the span of 1.5 hours. Then it was time for my interview on camera - unscripted, totally raw and totally cringe-worthy in hindsight, lol. And, as a bonus, this interview will be played during the books launch party in October. Egads! I'm already embarrassed just thinking about it.

I won’t get to see my pictures until about 2-3 weeks from now, and I won’t get to pick or know which picture they are picking for the book until publication. The anticipation has been killing me since the moment I left the beach. I don’t have a good feeling about my shots, mainly due to my hair being a fly away mess and not knowing how I was posed in each picture. I’ll just have to wait in agony, I suppose. Or just forget the whole thing even happened.

Being Vegan is for the birds

A couple of weeks in and I'm ready to quit. The constant scowl on my sons face whenever I even mention dinner let's me know that he is annoyed, frustrated, and resentful of this imposition on his diet. He appeared to have a stroke when I told him that we wouldn't be ordering or buying any pizza anymore unless he was having a sleepover and I didn't want to cook. Maybe I went about this all wrong. He's scoffing at everything non-meat/dairy, except the sweet stuff. He liked the hemp ice cream at Real Food Daily but he was almost angry over his "burger". And, at $15 wasted, so was I. It's a whole song and dance we have to go through just to get him to try something "different." Quite frankly, I'm hungry too, and all of my taste buds aren't being satisfied. I don't want to change my eating habits, but I don't want heart disease or any other food-related ailment either. This is tough. I'm cutting back, that's the most I can do right now considering my long history of loving and eating meat, sweets, and other no-longer-good-for-me junk. Now, damn near everything on that little health food pyramid they gave me in fourth grade is considered bad to eat. ...Or maybe I've just been reading it upside down. lol, the inverted food pyramid.

Last night my guy friend came over and cooked for us because I couldn't even bear to think of what kind of healthy concoction to prepare this time. It was overwhelming and stressful and I just wanted it out of my hands. He was all too happy to because he got to do his laundry for free and eat as well. I have no idea what we'll eat tonight, though. This shit is a full time job - nothing out of a box, nothing out of a can (which we haven't done for years anyway, but I digress), nothing with tons of preservatives (ie, no Costco or Trader Joe's fruit or veggies), nothing loaded with fat and cholesterol (most meats and treats). So basically, I need to grow and tend my own garden and farm, and maybe get a free-range chicken or two to roam around my yard like the Mexican's down by my cousin's house in L.A. The Good life is all about good (read: tasty) eating. It sucks that I can no longer eat shrimp and lobster tails with reckless abandon. I guess I'll have to schedule a back yard fish fry/crab boil at least once a year and do it up big to get my fix. Either that or suffer eating oatmeal and Cheerios everyday to control my cholesterol :/

How am I unbound?

I'm supposed to be writing a paragraph about how I am "unbound" for this coffee table book that I'll be taking a half naked picture for on Saturday, and I have no idea what to say. How the hell am I unbound? lol. Ugh. I need to get unWound and ARound all this mumbo jumbo trying to cloud my life. My brain has been on mush-mode all this month and part of last month but I have to crank something out of it by tomorrow for this book. Just one measly paragraph. So far, my rough draft contains all sorts of feel good cliche bullshit. Okay, not quite bullshit, lol. But definitely cliche. I'm going to scrap it and start over this afternoon while spending my lunch in the quiet confines of my car.

What I really would rather be doing is exploring this big blue world of ours. I need to get away. Lately, my favorite magazine is the free AAA mag that they send me for being a member, and Conde Nasts' Travel magazine. All I watch on TV, aside from home remodeling shows and The Closer...oh, and Memphis Beat, is the Travel Channel; Anthony Bourdain and Samantha Brown, particularly. I miss my boo, Dhani terribly, too. I hope they bring his show back for another season. It was kind of great to me.

I think for now, since funds are on the low side and time is short, I'll just stick to planning day and weekend trips all around town - the greater Los Angeles area and its surroundings. There's plenty to see and do and, even after having lived here my whole life thus far, I still haven't seen all there is to see. Thankfully.

So my "unbound" paragraph will likely center around body image and acceptance of what I've got. I think.

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday

After work on Friday, Mr. EC asked me to go out clubbing with her. I'd been giving her the freeze for so long and turning her down that she put the guilt trip on me and made me promise. I don't break promises unless I absolutely have to. So I went home and cooked an early dinner so that I didn't feel or look bloated later, took a catnap and vowed to just make the best of the night. It couldn't be worse than last week with my glamour shot friend, I rationalized. Even though I wasn't even remotely prepared to be going out. My hair was a mess, I'd cancelled my waxing appointment until two days before my upcoming photo shoot so my legs had stubble and I was not hairless and sexy. Thank goodness it was dark and I wasn't trying to catch any male attention. Just dance (c) Lady Gaga, which is what we sort of did. We went to this really nicely decorated, trendy, super Hollywood spot called My Studio, and was let in ahead of a bunch of desperate people in line (I hate Hollywood's club scene for that) because EC knew Anthony Quinn's son, who is a promoter.

She bought me a bunch of Malibu Rum + Pineapple juice drinks that I sipped carefully, hoping not to get drunk because I knew I'd be driving home alone. She, on the other hand, got toasted. All this week at work she's been wide eyed and dreamy over this 22 year old guy she can't stop talking about. She spent a good portion of the night texting him, too.

About an hour spent at My Studio and she was ready to leave. "Let's get a cab and go down the street to Playhouse!" she yelled at me over the oontz oontz music. So we left, walking out looking like a couple of rock stars, flagged a cab on the opposite side of the street like we were in New York, and ran across Hollywood Blvd. in high heels to hop in. Then my fun began to subside.

I spent my Saturday laughing and screaming at Knott's Berry Farm. We did what you'd expect anyone to do at an amusement park - we rode rides, walked a lot, ate junk, screamed, laughed, howled at our after-ride pictures, and went home. I slept until 12:30pm on Sunday and then watched Kick Ass with my son.

Around 7pm, we went to Real Food Daily for some delicious vegan grub in West Hollywood and I dropped 90 bucks into the register. Ouch. But it was my guy friends' bday and I felt kind of like splurging. $15 meals, $6 apple juices, $8 desserts, $12 "Not-chos"...yeah, vegan food is super expensive. Then we rode around Hollywood to avoid freeway traffic and, as a passenger, I wished like hell that I had brought my camera with me. So many things worth taking a picture of. It's such a treat to notice the details when you're not driving. Next time though.

We stopped at Amoeba Records and I almost bought a bunch of stuff but he said he could get all of my choices for me for free, so I put them all back in the racks. We left and I resumed my sight seeing and reminiscing as a passenger, which is a rarity for me.

I love L.A. So much cultural diversity all rolled into one big city.

Now I'm home and utterly exhausted. About to finally finish reading Eat Pray Love before the movie opens next week. Goodnight.

A few, uh...bunch of things

- I've decided to straighten my hair for the photo shoot. They say hair and makeup will be minimal, whatever that means, and to come well-groomed. I'm not taking any chances on getting someone who is all thumbs with my hair, so I'm straightening it.

- I made pad thai last night and it wasn't good. It was edible but nothing I'd want to eat again :( I'm going to keep trying.

- Since the folks over at Disneyland have lost their ever-loving minds with this price hike, we'll be going to Knotts instead. The last time I went to Disneyland was about two years ago on my birthday because I got in for free, and when we arrived I commented on the new parking structure to one of their employees who told me that it had been erected many years ago, lol. Oh. I guess when or if I ever return, they'll have made many, many more changes. But at $76 a ticket, I doubt I'll ever go back. Part of me wants to write them a nasty letter for exploiting children but I doubt anyone would care and nothing would change. I'll just never support them in any way again. There is no way they can justify their prices when other amusement parks operate just fine for a fraction of their admission fee and a fraction of the amount of visitors they see daily.

- I don't think I'll be going to Jamaica with my friend and her friend. For the longest I was wondering why they kept insisting on using a travel agent when we could, and did, find better deals on our own without having to pay someone to do it for us. Well, the other day she tells me it's because we can pay the travel agent monthly on a payment plan. I told her we could do the same thing with a credit card. And that's when she finally confessed that both of them are completely maxed out on their credit cards and heavily in debt. Naturally, I asked why on earth they were trying to go to Jamaica if they owed so much money already and were broke, to which she replies "We can make it happen. We'll be alright. J just came back from Brazil. She makes it happen all the time."

Call me a goody-two-shoes if you want, but I have NEVER ever maxed out my credit limit on any card. And if I had I damn sure wouldn't be ignoring it and making plans for an expensive trip out of the country. That is totally irresponsible. What happens if we get stranded somewhere, go broke, run out of travelers checks or cash? Yeah, no.

Immortalize my shit

About a week ago, my glamour shot friend sent me an email flier for a pretty well-known supermodel’s upcoming photo book. The flier was looking for a diverse group of women to participate in a photo shoot for potentially being included in the book. The deal was: submit a photo and your payment of $100 to be considered. If chosen, you will receive professional hair and makeup and a private photo shoot with *world renown photographer (who shall remain nameless for now). If, after the shoot, your picture is chosen to be included in the book, you’ll get your money back and you’ll get your photos for free. If your picture is not chosen, you’ll have gotten hair, makeup and a professional photo shoot on the beach by *world renown photographer, and the experience of a lifetime.

Of course, the skeptic in me was like, eh. But my friend was gung ho and talked me into submitting my photo, saying, albeit somewhat jokingly, that if I got chosen and she didn’t she would be “maaaaaad as hell.”

As you can probably tell by now I GOT SELECTED! OmyGOD! OmyGOD! OmyGOD! I have no idea if my friend got selected, though. I sent her a text about 30 minutes ago and she hasn’t replied yet. Eitherwhoo…Yit-ti-deee!

Wow. I'm still skeptical, lol. I probably won't believe it until it happens and I have my pictures in-hand. (I've been ripped off before :( Damn Chinese bootleggers) Wish me luck!! :D