Today's ramble

Last week I vowed that I am not going broke, however, today I fear that I already am! Lol :( I got a letter from Uncle Sam yesterday stating that he's coming to collect his First Time Homebuyers' funds from me. That asshole. How is it a "credit" when you want it paid back? I mean, I realized it was a loan when I agreed to accept it two tax seasons ago, but I had no idea I'd have to pay some of it back so soon. And now that I've spent it, and not particularly wisely, and Pres. Obama decided to let the other new home buyer's keep their dough, I'm a wee bit salty about forking over these clams given my circumstances. Last night, I decided to go over my income/output for the year in order to see if I could afford the two trips to NOLA and Costa Rica. That's when it occurred to me that I'm po'. It's not a good feeling, let me tell you. Something will have to give in order for us to make it through this year as comfortably as we did last year and the year before that. We're finally beginning to feel this recession and it's scary. My son is none the wiser, of course, which is the way I want it. As a parent, I don't want him needlessly stressing over how I'm going to do my job of supporting us. I will be sure to return the favor once I'm old and gray and in need of his support, believe me.

So I haven't slept all that great for the past two days and money wasn't even the entire cause of it, but it definitely played a leading role. We'll manage in that regard. Money's co-stars last night were loneliness (my son just left for Victorville for four and a half days, I have no dog and no boo), frustration (I'm not fond of my job at all and I'm antsy about the future), and worry (for some reason, everyone's trying to scare me up over home expenses. I haven't had anything major to worry about to date *knock on wood, thankfully, though). All of this adds up to me staying in on New Years Eve and New Years Day to map out an action plan for the new year. I will do this to the sounds of some jazz greats, old and new-ish, while painting the kitchen and drinking rounds of cider.

Mon petit château

It's cottage revival time. I bought a sign this afternoon for my humble little abode that reads "Mon petit château," which is absolutely perfect since my château is indeed petit. While I was out, I also picked up a can of red paint for my kitchen cabinets. They are currently plain 1920s wood and in desperate need of freshening up. This is how I am planning to ring in the new year - by reviving my cottage home. Things will be moved around, repurposed, reorganized, and refurbished. And once I'm done, I will put on "The Long Kiss Goodnight" with Gena Davis and Samuel L. Jackson, grab a couple of bottles of cider, wrap up in my favorite throw and kick back on the couch until midnight strikes.

Be careful what you wish for

You just might get it :) I wished for travel and I got invited to Costa Rica, Miami, and New Orleans this year. Wow. Of course, I want to go to all 3, plus my birthday trip to San Francisco in January but I've no idea how I'm going to pay for it all. I want to take my son with me to Costa Rica so he can get his first passport stamp at the age of 16. But that'll be double the expenses for me. And with San Fran in January, Miami potentially in March, and N.O. in July... Costa Rica times 2 in August would certainly be pushing it. I have a feeling the Miami trip or the N.O. trip might fall through, though. We'll see. Whatever happens, I'm absolutely delighted that this is my life.

In other good news, I was told that my nephew spent all day Sunday working on his drawing skills for when he receives the tattoo kit that I ordered him. He's even started marketing himself on Facebook. Ha! And his daughter loves the school bus I bought her for Christmas. Her mom says that as soon as she wakes up in the morning it's the first thing she reaches for.

It started off promising...

then my adopted "cousin" called my step father and asked him to come and pick him up so that he could come spend Christmas Eve with us at my house. The evening started with me, my mother, my step father, my nephew and my son. It was Hallmark-ish and I was loving it. Me and my mom worked side-by-side in my kitchen preparing gumbo while Nat King Cole and Donny Hathaway and Otis Redding, played in the living room. Then we got the call. Let me back up a bit:

Years ago, my cousin Nicky made friends with a very dysfunctional woman named Janice. Janice had two kids, a girl and a boy. The boy was always in need of someone, the girl had her god-mother to run to. So the boy spent an enormous amount of time with my family. Even a few Christmases with us because his mother didn't particularly care for him. We bought him his first and only dirt bike that first year and he was thrilled. Well, long story short, somehow we lost touch with the little boy, until one day I ran into him as a teenage man in the mall. Judging from his attire and the guys he was with, he was clearly in a gang - his new family. I hugged him tight and told him that my mother and the rest of the family had been looking for him and that he should come by my mom's house. He did. As time went on, I came to see that he had grown up to be quite bitter and unethical. Stealing came easy. He beat a neighbor kid with a baseball bat to near death with no remorse. My mother still saw potential in him. I was hopeful, yet doubtful. Fast forward and he is now an alcoholic at 27, has a 2 year old son with a girlfriend who is just as full of drama as he is (match made in Hell), and his fingers are still sticky. He came over to my house and told us how he'd lifted over $600 worth of toys from his employer with his managers' help. Great. He went on to say that his girlfriend was angry at him for leaving on Christmas Eve. Naturally. Then he started to talk about the Christmas when he was 12 and my son had gotten more presents than he could open. He always brings this up. He'll never forget it, apparently. Anyway, yes, my son is spoiled and it was not my idea for him to have so many gifts to open that year when he was about 4, I think - it was his daddy's and my mother's. So then he starts to gossip about his girlfriend and how scandalous she is. He runs into the hallway and snatches down two of my photos. I am annoyed but trying not to spaz. The night is long.

I could barely sleep because I was worrying about his sticky fingers. Then, with a little help from my spoiled son, he managed to alienate my nephew who is already feeling unwanted and unloved because his mother is a nutjob :( *le sigh

I love my nephew more than he probably knows and it is truly breaking my heart that he is having a tough time right now. I'd need a separate post to even begin to explain it all but I can see him slipping away slowly. And I really wish he didn't have that other one, the one my mother adopted into the family, influencing him and putting ideas in his head.

So I made it through the night, albeit sleeping on eggshells for fear of something in my home being "lifted." Then on Christmas morning my ex texted to say that his father would be coming to pick us up around 12pm. I wanted to take my nephew with us but my son, who I am still angry with, pitched a fit. He didn't want my nephew mingling with his cousins on his fathers' side for some reason, saying that it would be awkward and weird...all in front of my nephew. I blew a gasket and later on when my nephew was out of sight, I told my son he'd better apologize OR ELSE. His behavior is another post, as well, but suffice it to say that I will get to the bottom of his snobbish behavior. Anyway, I told my ex that I would be driving my car up to Fontana because I wanted to make sure there was room for my nephew. But after my son's hissy fit, and the adopted cousin talking my nephew into not going, we ended up having one-less riding with us. He went to the casino with my mom and stepdad and their adopted son of Lucifer. But since you have to be over 21 years of age to even step foot into San Manuel Indian Bingo and Casino, my nephew spent Christmas sitting in the car for hours, talking to and being influenced by that adopted jack ass. smh.

My spirits already dampened, I show up to my ex's sisters' house and am greeted repeatedly with love and affection throughout the afternoon and evening. Sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, cousins...everyone was perfect. It was enough to make me sad because I knew I no longer belonged and my own family was such a mess. My ex said that everyone has come to expect me to spend Christmas with them and his sisters and father had made mention of me spending Christmas with them, weeks prior. He said that even though he and I are no longer a couple, they still consider me family and I don't require an invitation to attend. But how can I continue to? As much as I wish I could, I know that as long as my ex is the way that he is (and he isn't changing, that's for damn sure), there is no way that I should. I have to let them go, too, and it hurts almost just as much. So, this Christmas was bitter sweet.

His sister just called to tell me that Teena Marie died and to talk about last night. I am such a wuss! I cried :( and I know she knew it wasn't over Teena Marie dying. She probably thinks it's over her brother, but it's really over her and the others. Haha. I stopped crying over him a long time ago.

My ex invited me to his family's holiday gathering

He did it via text message to our son last night. I haven't spoken to him since early November and when I did, it wasn't good. So I can only guess that his family is asking about me and they're the ones who really want to see me on Christmas day. I love his family, dearly. Especially his father, brothers, and his oldest and middle sisters. His nieces and nephews still call me "Aunt Val" and treat me as such. I was around them when they were all little elementary school kids and now they're grown, in college, with families of their own, etc.

Of course, my son wants me to go. After the Christmas Eve sleepover at my house with my family, I had planned to spend Christmas day relaxing alone at home eating gumbo and watching movies, maybe even starting my painting project in the kitchen. My mom invited me to go with her and my step father to the casino but I hardly want to spend Christmas in a casino surrounded by cigarette smoke and gambling. It's funny to me that my mother was raised in such a huge house with a large family (13 biological and 3 adopted kids, grandma and grandpa, and German Shepard named "Bullet") steeped in tradition and Catholic religion, living life straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting...and today she'd prefer to spend her Christmas driving around town playing Santa and ending up in a casino. Meanwhile, I wasn't raised that way at all and I crave it deeply. When I was a kid we kept to tradition, somewhat, but it was just me and my cousin, who my mom raised with me, so there wasn't as much excitement. And we didn't do all of the things that my grandparents did (caroling, cleaning the house from top to bottom making everything smell like cinnamon and vanilla, fixing big feasts for dinner, decorating the biggest tree they could find, etc.) But as I got older, less and less did she try to recreate the holidays of her past. Now she tells me that it's actually Thanksgiving that's designated for family time, not Christmas. Bah-humbug. It took some complaining on my part to get her to agree to meet me half way this year and that's how the Christmas Eve sleepover came about.

Anyway, my ex's family gets together every year at his middle sisters house - all 6 kids, both divorced and remarried parents, all 14 grandkids, and two great grandkids, with in-laws. When we were a couple I wasn't too keen on spending Christmas with them because I hated his sisters house back then (think Amityville except full of rodents :/) and I hated that no one wanted to be the first to go home so they stayed there until after 1 and 2am sometimes. Well, she and her husband have finally left the Amityville horror house and moved into a very nice home out in Fontana that isn't drafty, moldy, junky, or rodent infested. Last year I spent Christmas day with them after my son and I returned from Hawaii and it was surprisingly fantastic. I'd missed them so much and they all welcomed me back in as family, nevertheless. It was as if I'd never left. The food was phenomenal, as usual (omgawd! was it!) and the oldest and middle sisters and I did a whole lot of catching up and "girl talk," which was nice. Oh, and his father is the best :) He is so funny and country and full of enthusiasm. He calls me "Valley" instead of Valerie, lol. He was very happy to see me last year, too.

Anyway, I would love to join them but I'm hesitant to ride up there with my ex. He and I aren't on the best of terms right now so I'm not sure what to do. I know he won't act a fool in front of his family but the ride up and back might be a bit awkward. And LONG. I'm leaning towards going but we'll see how I feel on Christmas morning.

Tuesday's Musings - money, money, money

I’m all about wise money management and trying to learn as much as I can about making my money work for me. When I’m shopping, I calculate how many hours of work I’ll have to put in, in order to buy an item. If you read this blog every blue moon, you might recall the time I posted about my friend buying a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes and how I equated that to roughly the amount someone would spend on rent or a mortgage payment. I do this with many of the things I buy and try to stay within my budget, which is stored to memory and typed out in a simple excel spreadsheet on my computer at home. You don’t have to be a math wiz to be fiscally fit – I damn sure am not. All you need are basic math skills and a decent memory to stay on your game and keep your head above water and your overhead low. Part of my day-to-day budgeting consists of packing a lunch and a few afternoon snacks taken from my own kitchen. I’ve dwindled my debt considerably over the past 5 years (25g’s down to 6 in 5 years, then I fell off the wagon a few times. Otherwise I’d probably be debt free by now).

I’m highly focused on debt reduction because early retirement and working for myself are so very exciting to me. I’ve wanted to work for myself since grade school (as previously blogged). It’s just been a bit of a struggle letting go of my money woes and fears. I find myself worrying so much about potential “rainy days” and being able to make ends meet, that I sometimes can’t focus on developing a business plan. I tell myself that if I had financial security, I could focus on other things. It’s a never ending cycle. But it’s not completely lost on me that I’ll never make money if I’m constantly worried about it. I think I’m a little afraid of being completely responsible for my own well-being. Sounds nuts, I know. And I do recognize that working for someone else is an extremely false sense of security, and that I am more vulnerable as an employee than I would be if I was the boss. However, being a cog in the wheel doesn’t seem to be as much work as being in charge of the whole wheel. Or so I’d like to think since I’m sort of a yellow-belly J. Okay, I’m making excuses, but at least I recognize it! And I’m trying to convince myself to change with this blog entry, lol. Soon, I will be brave enough to face these irrational fears, get off my bum and do something extraordinary, or, at the very least, make myself proud. I’ve begun to draft my business plan. But until I am brave enough to take it from paper to reality, from dream to fruition… I will continue to build a safety net full of money in case I fail. I mean fall J

Being creative and in charge is definitely something that excites me.

It’s quite time for me to move on, though; find another love, find another way to earn a living, address what I believe is my calling, while improving my life and spirit and income. Success is part luck, part hard work. Wish me luck, por favor.

Salvaged Goods and Christmas Eve Sleepover

I found a fantastic little thrift store near my house but its proprietor talks to much (did I post this before? no matter...). It’s a funky little house (not in odor but in style) with “junk”, or as I like to call it “abandoned treasure” in the front yard and neat old and/or unusual stuff in doors. I was so excited when I walked inside, ready to patiently sift through all the goodies, when out walks this pretty, older, Afro-Brazilian lady and her mouth. I don’t know how she thought I was supposed to hold a lengthy conversation with her and shop while not being rude. I wanted to be left alone to peruse and spend my money on something I may later regret and can’t return. But no, she talked to me about every thing under the blazing sun and then some. And then she blatantly talked herself out of a sale when she mentioned how another customer had thought the price she was selling a picnic basket for was way too high. Before hearing that, I was about to buy said picnic basket. After hearing that, I questioned whether or not the price was too high and put the basket back down. Eventually, I got tired of her following me around with her gibberish. I needed to think, weigh the pros and cons before handing over my hard earned cash. Things like “do I need this?” “Do I want this?” “Where will I put this?” “Is this worth the asking price?” “Would someone want this as a gift?” “Can I find this elsewhere?” “Will I regret this purchase in a day or so?” all needed to be thought out and answered in my head. But I was distracted by her jibber-jabber, so I left. I wonder how she ever makes a sale with that mouth of hers. Too bad, she has some great finds in there.

I plan to go thrifting in San Francisco when I get there next month. Haight Street is full of second-hand stores and I wont have nearly enough time to peruse them all but I hope to find some good stuff. My style is a cross between vintage shabby modern chic. I don’t like stuff just because it’s old, like some people. But I will buy new stuff that looks old, lol. For instance, my chandelier that I love so much which cost me 80 some odd bucks but I can’t even hang it in my bedroom like I want to because my house is vintage and the light is on the wall, rather than on the ceiling, is actually new but it was made to look old. It’s sort of a rusted gold color and has plenty of jewels on it (some of which have broken off since it’s been sitting in the box waiting to be hung L ). I think I’m going to go ahead and bite the bullet and have someone come out to reroute my wires so that I can hang that sucker from the ceiling before it gets too broken up and I’m crying over my 80 some odd dollars even more. I have a lot of little unique stuff in my house, and that’s what I prefer – nothing cookie-cutter, nothing “in style”, everything “my style”, old and new but with lots of character.

Christmas Eve Sleepover

So it looks like I will be having a small Christmas gathering at my house on the 24th. Here’s how it came about: My mother has this uncanny ability to stress me the hell out over nonsense and before I realize its nonsense, I’ve done something I regret and my day/night/mood is ruined. Last night she called me in a panic, quivery voice and all, saying that my 18 year old nephew had walked to her house in the pouring rain after his wretched witch of a mother who hates him, walked into his bedroom and socked him as hard as she could in the chest. Mom claims his ribs are broken and he has no way to get to the hospital. Of course, I am flooded with panic. She’s putting all this responsibility on me to help him because she can’t. And I’m thinking, how the hell am I going to make it all the way down to L.A. in this torrential rain with the tires on my car on a Sunday at 8pm?? The stress creeps up on me and before I know it, I’m calling up my nephews’ loony-bin mom, asking her if she’s going to take him to the hospital and she says she has to go to work. Incredulous, I ask her if she’s okay with him dying while she’s at work and has she lost her mind, socking him over a cellphone charger, and she calls me out of my name and hangs up the phone. I call back, livid, and she doesn’t answer so I leave a very nasty message that would make your ears bleed. And that’s when it occurs to me that I may have been duped, yet again, by mother dearest. I call my mom back and that’s when she discloses that he feels fine BUT they were about to hop on the bus and go to the hospital, except my nephew said it wasn’t that big of a deal. I no longer want to talk to my mother but I’m not sure how to explain this given how angry I am at her. Don’t want to say the wrong thing ANYMORE, you know? I just boiled over, instead. So now, in addition to my mom and step father, my nephew is also coming over to my house for a sleep over on Christmas Eve. Should be festive.

This Christmas I am not going broke

That would be incredibly foolish. I am buying a handful of gifts, only for those who I actually see on Christmas day. Christmas isn't about the gifts, anyway. It’s about time spent, love, appreciation, and joy. Not money or material things. It took me all these years to realize thatand it wasn't without some struggle, unfortunately. I used to get so frustrated around this time of year, trying to get folks to act right, trying to please everyone and satisfy their impossible expectations of me. Ugh. I used to half-way joke around, saying “I’m not John D. Rockefeller!” but really I’m not. And I’m certainly showing it this year (as I did last year when I split and went to Hawaii). I’m finally almost out of debt and I didn't come this far just to muck it all up over a bunch of meaningless gifts that won’t be appreciated anyway. I don’t expect to see but two family members aside from my son on Christmas day, anyway, and they’re who I’m buying for. Oh, and the baby, of course, but I’m taking her gift to her. She’s still innocent.

My Christmas will be peaceful. My mom and step dad will come over on Christmas Eve to spend the night. We’ll stay up watching movies with blankets while eating sweets and drinking cocoa. I will cook a big breakfast on Christmas morning, get dressed, open presents, and then relax until my folks leave for the casino (yes, my mother goes gambling every year after she drives around to people’s houses playing Santa Claus). Later that night, I’ll fix dinner and plan/prepare for the New Year while my son is away with his dad. I usually write my ‘Power of Intention’ list around my birthday in January but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to start it a little earlier this year, here’s a loose list of what I’m planning for 2011:

· Travel to San Francisco, Vegas (annual trips), Miami (maybe, for a friends’ birthday), and Costa Rica (for La Romeria – pilgrimage for Mary)

· Get my groove back

· Write a business plan

· Continue my labor of love so that I can finally birth this elephant by 2013 (can’t go into details, don’t want to jinx it)

· Paint my kitchen cabinets and/or remodel it, if I can afford to

· Mark at least 3 items off my bucket list

· Volunteer, donate, recycle, pay it forward

· Shoot for the stars

Paramore

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-J7J_IWUhls

I think I've played this about 10 times today, so far.

I hate bikini underwear.

They are never, ever practical. Every time the phrase “panty line” is uttered, you should already know that the culprit is wearing a pair of bikini undies, or granny panties. No matter what you’re wearing, be it a skirt, dress or pants. But the alternative, decent boy short’s, are a bitch to find. If they’re made out of lycra/spandex, which tends to stay put well and that’s all you really want - coverage, but if they don’t have a cotton crotch, forget it. You’ll hate your gynecologist even more than you already do. You’ll want to press charges and see him/her in jail. It’s not worth the aggravation, trust me. Plus, if you have even the slightest bit of junk in your derriere, bikini’s will creep up into the crack. They don’t stay put like good ole boy shorts do. So you’ll be digging them out throughout your day. And don’t even get me started on thong underwear. Ugh. Suffice it to say, thongs are the devil, Satan himself wedged in betwixt your ass cheeks, wreaking havoc on your vajayjay.

They really ought to quit making thong and bikini undies, in my opinion. But too many women are creatures of habit, even with things (like sanitary napkins and nylon stockings) that don’t work. We just prance around in our high heel shoes enduring the pain and discomfort without demanding change. They burned bras in the 60s for all the wrong reasons, really. We ought to burn bikini drawls and granny panties, this decade. And what kind of drawls do I have on today? Mm hm, that’s what prompted this post. I need to do laundry.

Holy Mother of God

Okay, I know I said that my next trip after San Fran in January would be to Positano but something has come up. My friend has invited me to go with her to Costa Rica this summer as she walks for the Virgin Mary! http://costaricatravelersblog.com/?p=410

Excerpt:

More than 2 million people make the voyage…During August 2nd, the streets and roads of Costa Rica transform into a meandering river of human souls who profess their Catholic faith. The majority of the Costa Rican population participates in this religious tradition. Friends and family walk together in groups with tennis shoes a backpack full of water and snacks.

The idea consists of making a sacrifice (walking the long pilgramige) and making a promise to the Virgen of Los Ángeles.

She has family there and speaks fluent Spanish, so I’m not concerned about my measly two years of high school Spanish making me a potential victim of any sort of crime. AND we’ll have native tour guides to show us around for free. What’s topping that? This also means that I could remove an item from my Bucket List – zip lining through the Costa Rican jungle! And the religious event itself, I imagine, will be magnificent. I plan to participate, if I can, and crawl into the church after the long walk with everyone else. I’m pretty excited about this.

I need romance. I want to feel love and receive affection. Much more than sex, I want the butterflies, the longing, and the special treatment a man gives a woman he likes and is actively pursuing. I miss that terribly. On my way to work this morning I reminisced about the guys I dated who gave me all of that cutesy stuff – the damsel in distress treatment when my bike had a flat (lol), or a tire needed changing (sigh), the kisses in the middle of traffic (he was the best), the poems, the songs/raps to serenade me with, the hand-made, rubber stamped get-well cards, the tulips and roses and kissing fish and joint video game playing, etc. Anyway, it’s been a while since I had butterflies L I think the last time was 3 or 4 years ago. I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever feel them again. Maybe I’m too old for all that chivalry stuff now. I’m hoping it’s just that I don’t get out enough. It’s about to get cold outside (for California) and I’d like to spoon with someone cute under a goose down.

I've procrastinated all week

Actually, make that two weeks. I'm so behind on things that I need to do and normally I'd be highly frustrated about this but for some reason I am not. I sort of still feel like procrastinating a bit, as if I have the time. When really, all I have is two measly days to get an enormous amount of "stuff" done! <---yeah...still not panicked, lol.

At two o'clock I am going to Mimi's Cafe to meet two of my dearest pals for lunch and catching up. We're so busy in our day-to-days, and I haven't been much of a phone person since high school, that we haven't had much time or wherewithal to keep in touch regularly. But we're still each others favorite trio ;) One of us recently moved from San Diego to Lake Balboa, where ever the hell that is, exactly (somewhere near Encino, she says). The other two of us live in Montebello and Pasadena. We're planning to meet up half way, somewhere in the middle.

Anyway, other than that, my mother is hounding me to go to JCPenney today to buy her Christmas gift while it's on sale for 70% off. She wants jewelry and, according to her, "Penney's" is having a phenomenal sale so I need to get while the getting is good. However, I'm feeling lazy and can't shake it off. I'll probably just end up paying full price later on just so I can schlep around a little longer doing nothing much.

I'm in a vintage, thrift-shopping, unique-holiday-ornament-shopping mood, honestly. I think I may poke my head into a couple of thrift stores on my way back from lunch today before I head to the grocery store. Everything else that I have to do will get done at some point between now and midnight tomorrow. I'm sure of it :) Since Monday is my deadline.

Cravings

I have been craving greasy, bad-for-you foods for 3 days straight now. No matter how hard I tried to forget how delicious they are. I woke up this morning wondering what time the pastrami spot by my house opens up. I wanted one before 8am. This is how I know I could never be a vegan. I'd be depressed as hell, lol. So I made a quick run to Chipotle about 10 minutes ago and now there's nothing but crumpled up foil on my desk. I devoured that chicken burrito. The ENTIRE thing. And I never eat a whole Chipotle burrito in one sitting. Now I'm sitting on swole. But I'm so content :)

Marilyn

Have you ever looked at a picture of someone and tried to imagine who they really are? Not who they appear to be or pretend to be but who they are when no one is looking. Look at these two pictures of Marilyn Monroe and how different she appears in each one.

The shot before she entered Hollywood is remarkably different from how she appeared once she became a movie star. She looked so sweet and normal when she was Norma Jean.

The other night I watched the movie “Some Like it Hot” and read a few blurbs online about her, and it seems that she lived a life where she was never “off-stage” once she began making movies. And center stage, at that. I think it shows in every picture she took as "Marilyn." I’m sure this is true for a lot of celebrities today, but I can’t think of anyone who is as famous as she still is today. Her screen persona became who everyone thought she really was so in a sense she was living in a prison. But the blonde hair, the beauty mark, the doe eyes, and breathy voice clearly were for show, all of it fabricated. Some have said that she was extremely vulnerable and troubled underneath all that, stressed over too much movie-making, conflict in her personal life and a miscarriage she’d had. They say she popped pills regularly just to fall asleep and quiet her raving thoughts. Looking at the transformation in these pictures, I am intrigued with knowing what she thought of herself. I think that she was probably high on drugs in many of her most famous photos, hence the droopy, “seductive” eyes. She wasn’t in film or Hollywood for very long, dying of a drug overdose at age 36, but she left a VERY lasting impression. I’ve heard stars like Megan Fox, Lindsay Lohan, Beyonce, Scarlett Johanssen, and others say that she is their idol and you can see just how much she has influenced some of them.

The original blonde bombshell, sex goddess was once a telephone operated with dark brown hair and buttoned up blouses. She became larger than life in such a short period of time and the pressure of it all became her demise before she reached the age of 40. But the publics’ fascination with her may never cease.

The Operation was a failure

A friend and I went out last night. It was just a day or so ago that I was complaining to my mother, saying that I felt like a certain somebody had stolen my youth and caused me to miss out on some good fun having times. Last night I realized that I aint missed shit. So the original plan was attend a celebrity charity function at My Studio in Hollywood. Our "way in" told us to meet him there between 8 and 10. Sounds simple enough. I was ready, the perpetual planner that I am, by 8:30pm. My friend wasn't ready until after 10:30pm. She asks me to drive to her house so we can take her car there. Since I drive a regular old car and she drives a sporty new Mercedes, I figured this would be a good idea. Boy was I wrong. We got to My Studio and, naturally, our "way in" isn't trying to disturb his groove and come outside to get us and my friend does not want to stand in line. So we waited out in the cold for approximately 40 minutes, me in an itsy bitsy sequin mini skirt, tank top and quarter-length sleeve jacket (we saw d-list celeb, Samantha Mumba with a tacky homegirl, too, by the way). He told us, via text message, to let the guys at the door know that we're on his guest list. My friend felt that was beneath us. We ended up next door at Geisha House having a drink and working on Plan B and Plan C.

Plan B was supposed to come and pick us up in a cab. He never showed. Plan C was this super thirsty Persian guy who has allegedly been trying to get naked with my friend for quite some time now. He and a friend of his, also Persian, showed up in a very nice Audi to pick us up. The four of us drove down Hollywood Blvd. to a club called "Playhouse" where they play nothing but techno music. The oontz oontz kind. I don't typically go to places like this but I was optimistic and since everything was free, so far, I was ready to make the most of the night.

Now I was fully aware that the guy who wanted to make sexy time with my friend was hoping that his friend would play wingman and keep me occupied but there really wasn't any sort of love connection popping off whatsoever from the jump. He clearly was expecting someone of latin descent and quite possibly a size 2-6. I'm an 8/10 with meat on my bones. Anyway, we were both good sports though, so we entertained each other a bit, for our friends' sakes. He told me he'd been doing a lot of traveling lately and hadn't had much time for fun. "To where and for what?" I asked, in so many words. And he replied "Southeast Asia, mostly, for business."

He also made mention that the Audi his friend was driving was his. Fast forward and I'm getting my groove on the way I know how and it's apparently attracting attention because Persian guy #2 shimmies on up to me and starts trying to get more familiar. He whispers in my ear that all the women on the dancefloor are watching me. I hadn't noticed. I was in a zone as though I was dancing in my living room, really letting the music feel me up, ya know? So then I opened my eyes and spotted a trio of women dancing next to me, staring, just like he'd said. I was flattered. So the night went on, more oontz oontz oontz and I've practically danced a hole in my soles. I'm ready to go. Look at my watch and it's a quarter to 2am. My friend is drunk off her ass, or at least pretending to be. Persian guy #1 is thrilled and clearly plotting to get her in his bed, stat. Persian guy #2 is slyly copping feels on my sequined booty and repeatedly running his fingers through my hair looking for a weave track, lol. I find this funny so I run my fingers through his hair a few times and this fool loves it. He comes up behind me a few moments later and bites my shoulder! I'm like wtf!@? He's making crude comments asking me how many husbands I've bagged "white, black, persian..." and I say none. He says "so you just fuct the shit out of them and sent them on their way?" I laugh, like "how dare yOU!" and say "not all of them." He asks me if I'm left or right handed. I say I'm ambidextrous, which I'm not. And he says "well, which hand do you prefer to slap with?"

"My right," I say. To which he replies "faces and asses?"

He thinks he's cute. He bends over so I smack his ass. I think he fantasizes about being dominated by a "sista"

So finally, 3 am and I'm beat as a dog. I tell my friend that either I'm going to go to valet and pick up her car and drive myself home without her, or she can come with. It's her choice. She pretends to not comprehend. Next thing I know, we're back in the Persian guys Audi and he's promising us he'll drive us to valet to pick up the car...after we get something to eat. He says we need food in our drunk bellies. I insist that I'm not drunk, despite their best efforts to get me there. He's not listening. He speeds through Hollywood and the next thing I know, we're in FUCKING BEL AIRE! The first thing that hits my head is that movie Taken with Liam Neesom in it. If you haven't seen this fantastic flick, Liam's teenage daughter is taken by some foreign thugs and forced to be a sex slave. It's intense as ache-ee-double hockey sticks. I'm in that backseat plotting my escape, memorizing street names and twists and turns up the hill to this beautiful house that I couldn't give two shits about - I wanted to go home! Persian guy #2 makes a point to mention that it's his house, not his friends. His friend is flossing for my friend. So there we are, the two of us, my friend and I, sitting in this pretty house on a hill behind a remote gate, looking at each other like "what to do now?" I whisper to her that I'm trying to get home, gotta get home. She whispers back to me "Okay. Let me just go in the room with him for 10 minutes of (she makes sexual sounds here) and then he'll drive us back to my car."

They go in that room for 30 minutes without a peep. Persian guy #2 tries to make his move on me :( It's not remotely appealing, and as much as I'd love some sex in my life, I was feeling nothing but mortified and "rhet to go" (c) Wanda.

He rubbed my thigh. He told me that he'd made the guest room up for me. He studk his hand down the back of my skirt to feel the top of my ass crack. I asked him to call me a cab. He realized I was adamant about leaving so he did. When the taxi pulled up, I was out of there so fast he could barely keep up to walk me to the gate. Then, he tried to kiss me but he ended up licking off ALL of my lipgloss instead, lmao! GROSS!!!! I felt infected with germs all the way back to Hollywood, where my plan was to pick up my friends car and split.

But guess what? Valet was closed. It was 4am. The taxi ride was $45 (not of my own money but, still). I asked the cab driver, which was a lady, thank the good Lord, to drive me to my mother's house in L.A., where I spent the night next to her in her bed, comfy and cozy.

The next morning I had my cousin drive me back to Hollywood to meet up with my friend so she and I could pick up her car and go back home. She claims that she fell asleep on Persian guy #1 and he was disappointed that he didn't get to have sex with her.

So now I'm home, still recovering from lack of adequate and consistent sleep, about to take a shower and decide if I have the energy and wherewithall to drive down to Santa Monica for drinks with an out of towner and a few other folks.

My goal was to find a date last night but the date that found me was not what I'd had in mind. And the guys that I fancied were all colorstruck. But what's new?

I think God was trying to tell me something - for one, I didn't miss anything in my twenties, and 2, I really don't need a date as much as I thought I did. Oh, and 3, that you can't plan a fun night, especially in Hollywood. If fun happens, it's by sheer luck.

Giving to the needy

I get to get dolled up tomorrow night and it's not even my company's holiday gala yet. My friend and I are attending a celebrity charity event with the son of a super celebrity. I'm not exactly sure what it's all for but she's geeked and dragging me along with her. And since I haven't been out since the disaster that was my Vegas trip in early November, I'm going. And I'm aiming to look fierce. I just hope my hair cooperates. And I hope there are some good looking, eligible men there who would just love to take a girl like me out on a date. Before my last relationship, I was doing absolutely fine being abstinent. But now? I feel like a crack fiend with morals. Life would be so much easier if I didn't have any :(. But I do, so I'll have to really deck myself out tomorrow night and come with my A game if I hope to someday SOON relieve myself of this love jones.

I'm not sure what I'm going to wear yet but I'm thinking "low cut," "form fitting," and "stacked!" I can't lie, I'm pretty stoked about this shindig, too. Especially about the possibility of getting my own needs met. I'm actually going to pray on it tonight. I'd appreciate it if you did too. Thanks in advance.