Lori MacBlogger

Eternal questions for a spotless mind

2010-12-13T19:54:00.000-08:00

Hi there, my long-lost blog readers! How are you? I'm fine. You're looking well.

Ok, let's be honest... I don't know if anyone will actually read this. If roles were reversed I would have taken this blog off my Google reader long ago. But this story is too odd not to share, especially since it's a follow up to this post from last year. Go ahead, read it. Then come back here.

To recap: this guy I went to camp with randomly contacted me on Match last year, not realizing we had known each other 15 years prior. I reminded him who I was, and he eventually did remember, but it wasn't immediate on his part and it was an ego-bruiser on mine. We went out for drinks, and I didn't feel a connection, and texted him so the following week, saying that I'd still like to be friends. His text back replied, "That's okay, I have enough friends. LOL." Bitter, party of one? That's fine. Point taken.

So can you guess whom I might have received a Facebook friend request from tonight? That's right - the guy who said he had enough friends. All I ever really wanted was to be Facebook friends with him, maybe get together a few times a year with other friends, stay in contact since there are so few camp friends I actually am still in touch with. So I accepted his request, wondering if I'd ever hear from him directly, or if curiosity just got the better of him and he'd silently stalk my photos for months to come. Very quickly, I had my answer - a message from him in my inbox. I think I gasped audibly.

Will he apologize, I wondered. Sheepishly make a joke? I tentatively opened the message, which, to my surprise, read: "Congrats on making it to LA as well! How long have you been out here?" Which apparently means... he totally forgot. So, can you help reconcile this in my brain?

A year ago, I had to remind him that we had been friends in camp. Understandable, I guess, since boys don't always remember friendships the way girls do, and that had been 15 years - and many hairstyles - prior. But now, after seeing him less than a year ago, he forgets THAT DATE, but remembers me from 15 years ago. The me I had to remind him about.

And now, how do I answer this email? "Hi! I moved here in 2005, just like I told you last year when we went on that date that you apparently don't remember. How are you?" I feel bad bringing up the date, because I'm guessing it's going to mean reminding him of what happened afterward, but I don't know how I can honestly answer him without mentioning that, um, hey, I saw you a year ago and we discussed this at length. How can he NOT remember?

The truth is, I always felt bad about the way I handled things. It all took place over text, which I wasn't used to at the time, and I could have phrased things better. But the fact that he was so bitter and tantrum-y about it also makes me kind of embarrassed for him. I don't want to have to remind him that that's how he reacted. Can I maybe rewrite history here? Tell a different story about our date and hope that his amnesia doesn't one day clear up?

The whole thing kind of weirds me out and makes me wonder if something is wrong with him. Part of the reason I didn't like him last year was that he seemed a little sad, or disconnected, or like that something was a little bit off. His childish text response kind of reinforced to me that he might not be emotionally secure. I'm glad he's not pining over my rejection in any way, but the fact that he doesn't even remember it seems a bit, I don't know, just WEIRD. Even if he doesn't remember what happened after the date, how does he not remember going on it? It's like that entire night, and our entire conversation never happened. Which wouldn't even be that odd if we hadn't had a history together, but we do, and he clearly remembers that now, so... I don't know, I am at a total loss.

Any thoughts? Suggestions for how to handle? Ideas for how I might rewrite our date story with a happier ending?

Why I'm still single, part [insert high number here]

2010-04-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

I was standing in line at Starbucks this morning, counting my change to see if I had the exact 50 cents or if I needed to hand over an extra dollar. It was early, and dark in the store, and my non-caffeinated brain couldn't tell the difference between the dimes and pennies, nickels or quarters.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the man in front of me staring, so I looked up.

"Are you short?" he asked. I had been self-conscious about the cropped pants I had put on that day, since I probably should have shaved my legs and my new gold heels were only bringing attention to my calves, so I immediately thought he was referring to my height or the length of my slacks. It was something my father might have said, trying to be funny: "Are your pants too short?" I cringed and got annoyed in the span of a second.

"Excuse me?" I asked. Surely I had heard him wrong. Why would this stranger be commenting on my clothes?

"Are you short" he repeated. Still thinking he was commenting on my appearance, I gave him a grimace, and a slightly nasty "I'm sorry, what?" I can be such a teenager sometimes.

Then I realized he meant short on change. "I thought you were short on change," he said. "I would have offered to put it on my credit card." Oh. He was cute, for a 40-something, with a Jonas-brothers haircut. I was mortified.

"I thought you were referring to my height!" I apologized, embarrassed. And, since I suddenly realized that would have made no sense - why would a man standing next to me have to ask me about my height? - I then went on to explain, "I was self-conscious about my pants! I thought you were telling me my clothes didn't fit!" Clearly TMI. Stop talking, Lori.

If I was insecure, he was more so, apologizing even more profusely: "I'm so sorry you took it that way!" He was. He was embarrassed. And so was I. Telling him I was embarrassed about my outfit. Which was cute, by the way. Need-to-be-shaven legs, aside. We fumbled like in a stupid movie and I high-tailed it out of there before he could look at my legs and wonder what on earth I had to be insecure about.

This is why I should not be allowed to have conversations before coffee.

Thank you

2010-03-21T20:17:00.001-07:00

Hi, Everyone. I just wanted to write a quick note to say thank you for continuing to be interested in this blog, even as I admittedly write less interesting things. I'm hoping that, at some point, the inspiration will come back. Blogging has been one of the single best things I have done over the last five years, and you guys are undoubtedly the best thing to have come out of it. It means a lot that you all are sticking around.
Love, Lori

Seasons change

2010-03-16T19:23:00.000-07:00

Wow. So, as if cued by Daylight Savings Time, the seasons here seemed to have changed overnight. It's been in the 80's the last few days, and 60's -70's at night. I went from turning the heat on on Saturday to contemplating taking my fan out of storage on Monday. My pale feet have been liberated from socks and tights and thrust back into spring and summer shoes, invoking painful, but not unwelcome, blisters. I could get used to this.

As much as you know I love the warm weather, I'm actually not thrilled it's here. Time just seems to be moving so fast these days. I guess I say that every year, but usually by the time the seasons change, I'm dying for summer to come, and now, well, I guess I'm just dreading turning another year older. Not that that's happening tomorrow. It's just out there.

Sally: I'm gonna be forty.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it's there. It's just sitting there, like some big dead end.

Of course, we still have a few more months of cold and gray and gloom before I turn another year older and it officially turns into beach season. I just wish I could slow things down a bit.

As things are, it was five years ago Thursday that I picked up and moved to LA. Five years. And that seems to be about the average amount of time it takes for a once-hit TV show to officially jump the shark. Which is why I think it's a good time to admit to you all that I think I'm officially out steam for this blog.

I'm all about being official around here.

Part of it is simply that I'm out of material (same home, same job, same social status), and part of it is that I'm over the urge to write. Over the last five years, material hasn't always been plentiful, but I've always found inspiration, always had a voice editorializing in my head, imaging how the most obscure or arcane scenarios could be storied in print. Now, even when I have good material - celebrity sightings, dating warfare - it's a struggle to string together interesting sentences. I just think I need a break.

I'm going to leave this up for the next few days, so people can read this, and then set the blog on Private, with the intention of writing at best, once a week, but more likely, monthly or even less often. I don't expect many of you to keep up. But if you'd like to, please send me your email address and I'll add you to the list of private recipients so you will be notified and have one less thing to check everyday. I love that my friends and family check in, unprompted, to see how I'm doing, and I'm not entirely ready to lose this channel of communication.

To all of you who have kept up, and chimed in over the years - thank you. You have made this experience so unbelievably rewarding. I can't currently imagine my life without Lori MacBlogger, but right now I just don't feel like I am doing her justice.

And with that, I guess this is all I have left to say:

Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you

2010-03-10T20:40:00.000-08:00

I know I've been slacking on the blog, but you didn't think I'd let Corey Haim's death go unaccounted for, did you?

This here is what's left of my VHS library - carried with me across the country and through numerous apartments in New York - even though I haven't had a VCR on which to play them for at least seven years.

Lucas, as denoted by that decrepit piece of masking tape marked with my 12-year-old penmanship, was one of my favorite movies growing up. I had recorded this off one of the movie's many airings on HBO, and watched it all. the. time. throughout my teens. It had a great cast: my girl crush Kerri Green, Brat Packer Charlie Sheen, a barely-adolescent Winona Ryder, an already-balding Jeremy Piven, Courtney Thorne Smith, and the guy who would go on to play Jason Bateman's best friend on The Hogan Family. I never saw License to Drive until sometime last year, and never saw The Lost Boys at all, but this movie was enough to permanently enamor me to the fairer Corey.

While we're rifling through my drawers, let me tell you about the other components in this technology time capsule:

1. Today's Summer Hair: Did I ever mention I was on The Today Show? Getting a makeover? One of the perks of working in beauty PR is that anytime any of us got a segment or a story for one of our clients, we would need "models" to shoot. I've been in the New York Times getting my hair colored, in Harper's Bazaar getting facial injections, and this time, they needed curly haired girls for a segment on managing summer hair. Since everyone else in our agency was getting Japanese straightened at the time, I thought I was a sure thing; however the client didn't think I was pretty enough to represent him on TV. Awesome! Regardless, he didn't have a budget to pay for real models and I had already been approved by the producer, so I got to have my moment on national TV and a VHS tape that I watched exactly never, since I think I had already moved on to a DVD player by that point.

2. Class of '94 Video Yearbook. Pretty self-explanatory. I'm sure we thought we were so cutting edge, filming a video yearbook in addition to our printed one. Calling Donna and David... we were so West Beverly High. I don't think I've seen this since probably Thanksgiving break of my freshman year of college, but I would LOVE to see it again. And then probably burn it.

3. Alice in Bodyland. My fourth grade play. This tape dates all the way back to 1986 (!!!) when video cameras were still a real novelty, and it was a big deal that the play was not only filmed, but ran on our local cable station. It was a small cable station - the one that normally played only our soccer games or announced school closings - but it was a huge thrill, at 10 years old, to see yourself on TV. I think the tape had some issues the last time I watched it - many many many moons ago. While I might want to burn my video yearbook, I'd like to bronze this tape, or at least have copies made on DVD, Blu Ray, You Tube, etc. It might be mortifying but it's absolutely brilliant.

4. And, finally, The Wizard of Oz. I think my dad got me this one year for Christmas. (Thanks, Dad!) Knowing how much I loved that movie, he also bought me the DVD years later. (Thanks, again!)

I also still have Aladdin on tape, but the plastic case was too large for the drawer.

Why do I keep these so long, when I don't even have the technology to play them? Sentiment, I suppose. A reminder of my childhood. Memories, like Corey Haim, John Hughes, Andrew "Boner" Koenig, that I'm not quite ready to let go.

Sat on our barstools like bookends

2010-03-01T21:34:00.001-08:00

This was the third weekend in a row in which I had an old friend come to visit, and as such, was the third weekend I found myself playing tour guide. Tom was one of my good friends in college, and one of the first people I knew to move from school to NYC. I wrote, years ago, how he stayed on my aunt's couch those first few days, and he always remained part of my New York social circle.

Tom came out partly for work and part for pleasure, so we made plans to have lunch on Sunday. I woke up early to a sun-filled morning and figured - since lunch would likely include drinks - it would be a good idea to squeeze in some exercise. I'm never much of a morning runner, so thought a brisk hour walk would suffice. Until I got outside, and the gorgeously clear day and sweet-smelling air filled my lungs, and I don't know what came over me, but I just got the urge to run.

"I just felt like running." - Forrest Gump

I ran to the top of the hill on my regular route, where, on a clear day, you can see the beach to one side and the Hollywood sign to the other. Sunday, not only could I see the Hollywood sign, but I could see the majestic snow-capped mountains behind it, 100 miles away. It was nothing short of breathtaking. I tried taking photos with my iPhone, but the effect looked much farther away. In that case, then, I decided, I should keep running east, towards Beverly Hills, West Hollywood if I had to, in an effort to get a decent shot of the sight. This was the best I could do:

And it really does not do my view justice.

Anyway, I ran out past the border of Beverly Hills before I decided to turn around and head back. I walked/ran home, feeling alive and enthused and so unbelievably blessed about my life.

Since it was such a nice day, I suggested we head down to Venice Beach, have lunch by the Pier, and take in the crazies on the boardwalk. It was great catching up, and Tom was a competitive player in my favorite game of making every possible geographical reference to the original 90210. "This is where cokehead Colin lived." "There's where Kelly's rehab-roommate-stalker hid her suitcase when she was on the streets." "Why yes, Pasadena is the home of the Rose Bowl where Donna competed on the Royal Court and learned her mother got pregnant out of wedlock." We're both watching reruns every Saturday morning. The day could not get any better.

1997

2010

Why yes, those are crows feet by my eyes and gray hairs on my head. I much prefer the ponytails.

All in all, it was a fantastic day. Fortunately for me, I have one more week of Old Friend Fun in store. My college and NYC friend Heather is flying west this weekend, and we'll be hanging out with Cara in San Diego. Four weeks, four good friends. No complaints over here.

A gift

2010-02-24T19:42:00.000-08:00

After a gray, rainy day, and sitting in rush hour traffic for an hour and a half, there are few things better than coming home to a care package tucked neatly under the doormat at your front door. Especially if the care package is a totally unexpected and unnecessary surprise from a good friend, and included three things that you specifically said you loved, wanted, or needed.

First, loved: Graham crackers. We were in the car one day, and Julia asked me to list my top five favorite foods. I couldn't. You may have noticed, but I'm not an enthusiastic eater. I don't really like a lot of foods, let alone "bad" foods that most people would list as their favorites. But graham crackers are the one snack over which anyone who knew me in my early 20's could attest that I have little control. I rarely buy them anymore for that reason, but once in a while will indulge myself with a box that will usually be gone in a few sittings.

For the record, I listed coffee and wine as two of my other favorite foods. I don't think I was able to come up with a four and five. Cheese, maybe, if I had thought of it. Yogurt? I'm really lame.

Wanted: a phone charger for my car. Would be nice not to worry about a low/dead battery in case of an accident. It looks like the charger will also work with my iPod as well, which is a nice bonus.

Needed: a new rubber case for my iPhone. Mine was torn along one side which, while still usable, compromised the safety of my phone, should I ever drop it. Which you know I do. I actually almost bought a new case at Target last week, but none of them were the right model, color, or price, so I passed. How cool is it for one to literally appear at my fingertips, in the exact color I wanted?

And how cool is it that Julia took note of and remembered all that? In this day and age, I feel like so few people really listen. Everyone skims and nods their head and takes back bits of the bigger picture, but details get forgotten if they were ever even absorbed to begin with. I do it, too. We're all so busy and distracted and not entirely engaged. This was such a welcome reminder of how good friendships can be.

This may well be the laziest post I've ever written

2010-02-23T16:32:00.000-08:00

... but Cara has graciously recapped our weekend so I don't have to.

Oh, and in addition to Wanda Sykes, we also had a random Top Chef, Season 3 sighting. I didn't even watch that season, but he's so tall, there's no missing him.

My bathroom is done, kind of. The shower doors and tile look good, but the floor is a mess. It's uneven and sloppy and I'm the last person in the world who notices that sort of thing, but even I can see it's lazy, rushed work. They've already agreed to re-do it.

I've also mentioned before that my carpets are kind of a disaster. It took the workers leaving such a disgusting trail of plaster, drywall, and odds and ends that they were dragging in and out for me to finally do something about it. For $100 I bought a Hoover Steam Cleaner at Target, and spent an hour or so steaming the carpets on Saturday. And oh my, do they look good. I'm kicking myself for not doing this four years ago. Not to overstate things, but the entire feeling in my apartment has changed. Suddenly I am living in less of a crack shack and more of a modern-looking abode.

Or at least I will be until Linoleum Installation, Round 2.

Home improvement

2010-02-16T20:18:00.000-08:00

After entertaining a house guest for six days and exercising my brains out for five of them, there was nothing I was looking forward to more than a long, hot shower in the privacy of my own home.

Mmm... Nothing says "relaxing" like bare bathroom foundation. Restoration Hardware should take note.

So naturally, yesterday would be the day that my bathroom was being remodeled, requiring me to take my next few showers at the gym.

I'm not, despite appearances, complaining about getting a new bathroom. Last week, my shower curtain rod collapsed, bringing a small chunk of wall down with it. After discussing with my landlord, she decided they should just install shower doors, and sent someone over to my apartment to take measurements. That's when they found that my tile and linoleum floor were so old they were a health hazard (awesome!) and decided to redo the whole thing.

The landlord told me the process would take all of Monday, but would be finished by Tuesday morning. The above photo was my bathroom Monday night. Tonight, things are bit further along, and I am told it will be finished tomorrow, but I am afraid to be optimistic. I am, however, thankful. Thankful that this did not take place while Julia was here. And thankful that my gym is actually a lovely place to take a shower. They offer free Kiehl's products in the locker rooms now. I passed some delightful quiet time in the steam room yesterday. The challenge is navigating through the busy morning rush, fighting for a hair dryer, and remembering to pack along everything I might need to get ready for the day. I almost forgot shoes to match my work outfit this morning.

But overall, I have little to complain about. Except that all this is making it very hard for me to ever move out of this apartment.

Working on my fitness

2010-02-13T11:20:00.000-08:00

You know how most people go on vacation, or have guests come visit for a week, and their whole healthy lifestyle gets temporarily put on pause? Homecooked meals are forsaken in favor of restaurant dining, and exercise is all but thrown out of the window?

This has not been one of those weeks.

My high school friend Julia came to visit me this weekend. Well, she traveled here specifically for her cousin's bar mitzvah, but flew in a few days early to spend time with me. Julia is a triathlete, marathon runner, trail runner, and all-around exercise fiend. You thought I was dedicated to the gym? She wakes up at 5 AM to train every morning. In the cold/dark/rain/snow of west North Carolina. So nothing was getting put on pause this week, and in fact, my schedule has been set to Fast Forward.

She arrived Wednesday night, and we had a nice evening in, catching up over a bottle (or two) of wine. Thursday morning, we got up, made breakfast, then went to yoga, and then went on a hike. Friday morning, we got up, went to 8 AM pilates, and then went on a power walk around the neighborhood. This morning, we got up and went on a 7 AM walk, to fit in an hour of exercise before her cousin's event.

I am EXHAUSTED. In a good way.

My muscles ache mildly - not enough that I can't walk, but enough to let me know they have been challenged. My arms, legs, abs and ass feel tighter, even when I am lying, spent, face down on the floor. What's more, Julia - in a complete coincidence - has also been using the Lose It program, so we're both helping each other record every single calorie.

In between all of this activity, I've been accompanying her to some of the more informal family events, and generally running around town trying to fit everything in. I expect we'll go on one final walk tomorrow morning, before attending the farewell brunch on the beach, at which I will happily help myself to unlimited mimosas and possibly pass out in the sun. Not from being drunk, of course, but from sheer physical exhaustion.

Which, in the expected 75 degree weather, sounds like a perfect way to spend the day.

Rent-a-bachelor: rose ceremonies, Chris Harrison not required

2010-02-08T20:36:00.000-08:00

I'll take a 5'10, blue-eyed creative type with a gym membership and full-time job for Valentine's Day, standing Saturday nights, plus assorted holidays and mandatory work functions.

Cheesy airline pilots need not apply. Brad Womack, of course, is welcome.

On the table: taking up tobogganing

2010-02-06T09:59:00.000-08:00

I've been sicky/coldy/sneezy for the last half of this week, and now, after staying home from work yesterday and after two nights of 12+ hour sleep, I can't decide if I'm finally feeling better or just feeling the effects of my coffee's caffeine powering its way through my empty stomach.

A flatter-than-usual empty stomach, mind you. I do love being sick.

For the past two weeks, I have been kind of obsessed with this iPhone app called Lose It. You enter in your height, current weight, and how many pounds you want to lose over a period of time, and then it tells you how many calories you can eat, per day. You then enter everything you eat and how much you exercise, and the app calculates how many calories you have banked and how close you are to meeting your goal.

Like a good piece of technology, it has a lot of information pre-stored. So, for instance, you can enter that chicken drumstick you ordered at a restaurant and it will likely have calculated all the oil and fat that went into it. On the flip side, it has at least 50 different types of exercise, including my favorites like like running, walking, elliptical, and yoga; to sports activities like archery, badminton, baseball, and billiards; to the daily mundane calorie-burners like carpentry, gardening, house cleaning, and music playing. I always get a laugh when I scroll through these activities, as they include such random (to me) things as: Broomball (wtf?), Fencing, Hang Gliding, Jai Alai, Luge, Sexual Activity (!), Tobogganing, and my personal favorite, in case you are using this app in the mid-1980's, Slimnastics.

An hour of Slimnastics, by the way, burns 300 calories. An hour of sexual activity only burns 18. Possibly why people gain weight when they are in relationships.

The first week, I went over my daily calorie limit every day. Mostly because of wine/alcohol. That was okay with me, though, figuring I needed a week to see exactly where my calories were coming from before I could wrap my head around making changes. This past week, I have been under every day except one, though from Thursday on, that has been due to being sick. This coming week might be tough, as I have a friend from HS coming to stay with me, and I expect we'll go out to eat some and drink wine, some, but I know we'll also be exercising a lot as long as the weather holds up. Overall, I am only looking to lose five pounds or so, and it doesn't even really need to happen that immediately, but I have been the same weight and have had the same stomach/ass/hip issues for so long, I need a little help and reassurance that I can actually do something about them.

I bought my first pair of skinny jeans a few weeks ago. (Yes, I know - three+ years after they came back into style.) I fit into them and even look flattered by them; however I would just like to feel a bit more confident in them. I've never been one to care about the numbers on the scale as much as the numbers on my clothes - and those have pretty much remained consistent - but I think I could look just a little bit better.

I'm interested to see if/how much this changes my habits, or if I'll lose interest at the first sign that I can't change, at all. But, for now, it has been enlightening to see exactly what I'm putting into my body, and has made me feel like just maybe I have a little bit of control.

The rain exploded with a mighty crash as we fell into the sun

2010-01-30T10:08:00.000-08:00

One of the few good things that came out of 2009 (my God, are you as tired of my whining as I am?) was that one of my very best friends from college and NYC caught the west coast bug and moved to San Diego. Cara and her boyfriend moved in October, spent a few months in temporary housing, and at the first of the year, signed a lease for an ocean-front apartment in Mission Beach.

And when I say ocean-front, it's actually more like ocean-back, because this is their backyard:

That white stuff isn't snow, as I originally thought, but foam, brought up to the sea wall from the rain storm that roared through Southern California earlier that week. Because it happens so infrequently here, rain is considered a novelty, and - in LA, at least - it's a welcome relief as it clears out the smog and cleanses the city.

This trip was, in a sense, cleansing for me. First, I had never been to Mission Beach, never knew a place like that existed. It's basically a vacation town, where people actually live and work, though I can't imagine anyone gets much work done, what with the beach and so many bars and neighbors within distraction distance. It reminded me of my summers spent on the Jersey Shore - which weren't that different from that Jersey Shore - in that the whole town just seemed like one party after another. Good-looking people walking, rollerblading, running on the beach; neighbors drinking wine and beer on their porches, inviting us in; bar after bar after bar after bar; after-hours in abundance. And, my goodness, the boys. How have I never heard the term Man Diego? Good-looking, all-American-looking, single-looking guys, all around my age, seemingly around every corner. I was completely floored. I'd seriously given up on the idea that they even existed.

Beyond anything that Mission Beach offered, I just had more fun with my friend than I have had in a long, long time. We laughed for two days straight. My sides hurt, my cheeks hurt, and it was the best I've felt in forever.

I'm so extremely thankful they have a guest room.

Friends, friends, friends, we won't always be

2010-01-21T18:10:00.000-08:00

We haven't had a good laugh around these parts in a while, so let's talk about my dating life.

The joke, of course, being that if I went on any fewer dates, said life would surpass the "endangered" list and ultimately be declared extinct.

I've been on Match for a while but participating half-heartedly, finding very little interest in very few people. This may have less to do with their profiles than my mind-frame, but I guess I feel like I should be doing something to keep myself out there, even if it's only keeping an active profile for hundreds of people to judge.

A few weeks ago, I got an email from someone who struck me as somewhat familiar. I opened his profile, and it turns out, we went to summer camp together back in the early 90's. I wrote back, sharing immediately that I recognized and remembered him, and then was humbled when he replied that he had no idea who I was. Awesome. My ego is fine, thank you. With little prodding, he finally remembered me, we caught up over a series of emails and texts, and met up shortly thereafter.

And I had a nice time. He was nice. Not particularly my type - he seemed a bit quieter and shyer than the guys I go for, but it was fun catching up and we had some interesting things in common. That said, I knew right off the bat I wasn't interested in dating him. I just wasn't attracted. Our whole date seemed more like it had a friendly vibe, though, so I wasn't that worried about having to tell him that, or tell him anything, and I hoped we could transition things into a rekindled friendship. Even if that friendship was based only on our newfound proximity and one summer 20 years ago that he clearly didn't remember.

I don't ask a lot from my friends.

He texted me every day that week, much more than any of my actual friends. While he didn't outright ask me out again, I could tell he was fishing to determine my interest. I kept it friendly, but brief, and hoped he'd get the hint. I guess he's not much one for subtlety, though, because the following week, I got this:

So, let me put it out there... did you want to get together originally just to catch up or do you think there is something more there potentially?

Yikes. Wasn't expecting that kind of text in the middle of my work day. Wasn't expecting to have this conversation over text at all, but I guess if it is his communication of choice... I wrote back:

Just to catch up but I had fun and think we should be friends, stay in touch. I like connecting with people from the past b/c we naturally share something in common, and that is rare out here.

Honest. I probably could have worded it better but it distracted me so much at work I just wanted to write back and get it over with. I debated glossing it over and saying that I was open to seeing where things could go, but really, I wasn't. And if I've learned anything from my two decades of dating it's that it's always easier on everyone to end things sooner rather than later.

He apparently appreciated honesty too, considering his quick reply:

That's cool... I have enough friends... lol

Wow, ego-bruiser! Tell me how you really feel.

I admit, I've thought, and said that phrase in jest about similar situations. Say, I was telling a girlfriend how a guy might have said that to me, and I'd be all - to my girlfriend - "like I need any more friends!" Ha! But I would never, NEVER say that to a guy! I'd be like "Sure", and then never answer the phone again, maybe, but I wouldn't be all bitter like that - to their face!

(I try to reserve my bitter for the privacy of home. Trust me, everyone is happier that way.)

In fact, I remember the time I broke up with this guy. He wouldn't let me off the phone until I at least agreed to be friends. So I did, thinking it would mean nothing, maybe he would call once in a while if he was in the neighborhood, or we'd add each other to our birthday party guest lists, but that's it. After all, why would he want to be friends with someone who made it very clear she did not want to date him? Right?

Wrong! He thought my agreeing to be friends with him meant that we could forgo the dating part of the relationship and just have sex on occasion. He called me every week for a month before I finally told him to get lost, and he told me the real reason he kept calling.

I met him on Match too, now that I think of it.

Anyway, I wouldn't have even included the friendship remark if we hadn't actually, at one point, been friends. I totally get that it's a shitty thing to hear, and I really don't have any interest in being friends with most of the random guys I date. But I don't consider him random. I thought it was really cool that we reconnected across the country, and I was sincerely hoping to make him part of my social circle. Don't get me wrong - it's not like I'd be calling him up for weekend lunches or to gossip about my day. He'd be like every other guy friend I have that sits idle in my phone book, that I banter with on Facebook, and maybe see three times a year. So what's the big deal, then, you ask? If that's all I wanted, aside from avoiding any hurt feelings and snide textual remarks?

Well, the big deal is that it is rare to meet people from my past out here. And unlike high school and college, I didn't stay in touch with my camp friends after I stopped going at 17. Facebook has reconnected me with some, but I haven't seen most of them in real life in fifteen years. Having one pop out of the woodwork like that was a refreshing and comforting reminder of the pre-teen camper I used to be. Bottom line: there there are only a handful of people in the world that shared the exact same experience I did, that carry around the very same memories I have. It was nice thinking I'd reconnected with one of them.

Then again, it's not like he had that great of a memory.

Done good

2010-01-18T09:38:00.000-08:00

A big thanks to everyone who commented on this post and helped raise $100 for the Red Cross to provide assistance to victims of the Haiti earthquake. Here is a copy of the receipt, as best as I could cut and paste from my basic PC software:

This is the best thing to come out of an overpriced car estimate, yet. I hope you all had a fantastic weekend, and thanks again!

How I unlocked my radio security code and saved ANOTHER $135 by avoiding the dealer

2010-01-16T17:22:00.001-08:00

I mentioned yesterday that, because the car guy had disconnected my battery in order to change my timing belt, I had been inadvertently left without a working car stereo. Apparently anytime the battery dies or gets disconnected, my radio goes into protection mode and requires a special anti-theft code in order to turn itself back on. The car guy didn't know the code or how to get it, and the Santa Monica Acura dealership was going to charge $135 to tell me. I believe that might be what some people refer to as "extortion."

Dreading another day of a tinny Pandora-via-iPhone soundtrack, I sat down to consult the all-knowing Father Google. And lo and behold, what did I find within one minute and the first five links of my search? Well, first I found a couple of links which mentioned that if the dealer sold you the car, they are required by law to give you the code for free. I did buy my car there, but even if I hadn't, Honda (which makes Acura) actually set up a consumer website for this exact purpose. Following that website, I was able to follow the simple directions and within minutes, had a working car stereo. All for the price of... wait for it... zero dollars!

Seems the only thieves I should be worrying about work at the dealer.

Drive me crazy

2010-01-15T12:47:00.000-08:00

I wanted to give a quick update on my car situation, but first, thank you to everyone who has commented on the post below. If you haven't yet, please do! It's for a good cause!

So, Thursday morning, I woke up early so I could drop the rental off at Enterprise and pick my car up at the dealer. Everything worked out smoothly, and I was at-work at 9 AM problem-free. Well, almost. Apparently, when they worked on my car they had to shut down? take out? insert car lingo I don't know? my battery, which prompted my car stereo to invoke its security protection and turn itself off, for good, until I can enter the security code. The car guy told me it might be in my manual (it wasn't) or that I should call the dealership, who should have it. So I drove away in literal radio silence, and called the dealer once I was back at the office. The dealer apparently doesn't have it, but if I bring it in, they will charge me $135 to re-set it. Click. I called my new auto-body shop to ask about it, though so far have not heard back. I've been listening to Pandora on my iPhone, which is a God-send, but seriously people, this kind of sucks.

What also sucks was that Thursday evening, as I was driving to meet a friend for dinner, I got rear-ended on the 101. Rear ended! The same day I pick my car up from the shop! So awesome! (Though I am grateful it was only that and I didn't, like, total my car the day after I put multiple hundreds of dollars into it.) We pulled over to the side of the road, and in the dark I could barely even see the damage. (And yes, I did take photos). In today's light, I can see paint scrapes from her car, but there are no dents or any real damage to it. And she was a lovely older woman who was very apologetic about it and I'm really thinking it's not even worth going through insurance and maybe not even worth getting fixed.

This is the third time I've been rear-ended. Note, I have never done it to anyone - I am always the recipient - so I am pretty sure that it's not my driving. The first time was the worst - notable damage to the bumper and the under-carriage, and I went through insurance and had it fixed. Literally weeks after I got it fixed, I got rear-ended again, and that time, the damage just didn't seem worth going through that hassle. I've been driving around with scrapes on my bumper for four years now, so the new ones from last night aren't really putting me out. I'm more put out at the idea of taking my car back to the shop - even the really good shop - and raising this woman's insurance for scrapes I'm just not that bothered about. Is that naive of me? Girly? Lazy?

Any advice is appreciated.

Do-goodery

2010-01-13T21:44:00.000-08:00

I have so many things I've been meaning to write about, but, I don't know - I've been so tired, or so busy, or there is such good TV on again...

I'll save some of those stories (reminders: Santa Monica, camp, nails, Jay Leno) for another time, so I can focus in on a few that fall under one common umbrella - giving, generosity, and the kindness of the human spirit.

To start, my car recently surpassed the 100,000 mile mark, and Acura has been telling me - since about 75K - that I need a new timing belt. The price they quoted me was a lot - about $1300 for the belt and $900 for the cooling hoses that go along with it. Hello! Who ever advised me that owning a car made good financial sense? I am totally leasing next time.

Anyway, I decided I wasn't going to take it to Acura, at least not before getting a quote from somewhere else. The problem was - I didn't really know anywhere else. Most of my friends here lease, and the ones that own cars seem to have daddies that take care of these problems. Finally, I got a recommendation from a friend at work who is the most meticulous, Type A researcher you could want recommending these things, and was backed up by another coworker who got work done at the same place. They both told me the guy was uncommonly nice, trustworthy, and basically a diamond in a coal mine. So I called for the estimate on Monday, and you know what it was? $600 for the timing belt and $200 for the coolants. SOLD.

His auto shop was by my office, so I could drop it off in the morning, and he assured me it would be done by 5:30 at night. Ideal. This week has been crazy for me, with something either every morning before work or evening after, but I decided to drop it off today when he assured me it would be finished, and if there was a problem, he would know by 10 or 11 AM and call me so I could make any alternate transportation arrangements. I made a very big point of making sure of this, because I had something at 7PM tonight in downtown LA that I really couldn't miss.

I was getting ready to leave the office at 5:30 when he called to say it would be at least another hour until the car was ready. That was unacceptable, and I told him so. Not only did I have this meeting at 7:00, but I had asked a friend at work to drive me back to the auto shop, and I wasn't going to ask her to wait around for another hour. New York Lori made a bit of an appearance. I wasn't mean, I wasn't irrational, but I reminded him of our conversation and I told him in no uncertain terms that this was not acceptable.

He recognized his mistake for not calling me sooner, apologized profusely, and offered to book me a rental car for the night, at his expense.

And then I felt like a royal asshole.

But seriously? That is good service.

Enterprise picked me up, and I was on the road myself by 6:20. The "meeting" I had downtown was actually an orientation for some volunteer work I plan to do this season through a company called Taproot, which basically pairs professional people like myself with non-profit organizations to provide pro-bono work in the area of our expertise.

My expertise, in this situation, is as a copywriter. I was accepted to the program in December, but had to attend an orientation to be matched with a project. Basically, if I missed tonight's orientation, I would have to wait until March, which I feel would be a big waste of two months in which I have a lot of free time. And yes, I had to be accepted. Apparently they only accept 10% of applicants so it is a fairly big deal to be part of the program. There was a ton of talent in the room tonight, and for the first time in a while, I actually felt quite young. The majority of the people there had 20-30 years of experience. I won't know for a few days or even weeks what kind of project I'll get put on - they approach me based on my skills and I can accept or decline - but I hope it's something that excites me and I can find some passion for.

So, all of this do-gooding brings us to the situation in Haiti, which no one needs me to opine about. Instead, I suggest this: for every comment left on this post between now and 11:59 PM on Sunday night (1/17), I'll donate $5 to the Red Cross. (Don't worry - I don't have a lot of readers!) (Though just in case, let's say that I'll donate $5 for each comment up to $100/20 comments, and $1 per comment after that.) Here's my only request: Please no anonymous comments. You don't have to go whole hog with a Blogger account if it's too much trouble, but leave your name (or any name) along with some line about how you know me, or how you found me. Feel free to repost or reTweet or do whatever you can to raise the amount. I'll post the final donation receipt on Monday.

Think of it this way: I just saved $1400 fine-tuning my car. I can pay at least a fraction of that forward.

And this is why I live here

2010-01-07T16:31:00.000-08:00

Trouble ahead, trouble behind

2010-01-05T21:15:00.000-08:00

So, it seems like the Tragic Celebrity Death Circus of 2009 is intent on continuing its show through 2010.

One of the most common themes in the media coverage of heiress Casey Johnson's death was the coverage itself, why there was so much of it when she was barely a celebrity, famous for nothing but her last name and sharing a yearbook with Paris Hilton.

I actually met Casey back somewhere in 2001 or 2002, when she worked as a beauty editor for a local magazine. She had always been on our media lists, invited to every event and copied on every press mailing, but was somewhat of an enigma and never showed any interest. I guess she covered more of the local beauty beat than the national launch news, and maybe she didn't need a sponsored lunch at Fred's to get content for her monthly column.

Then one day, she actually responded to one of my pitches. I was working with a skin care client launching a new line, and we invited editors in for one-on-one appointments. To my surprise, Casey was interested, and we spent an hour together, just me, her, and my crazy client. She was definitely different than the other beauty editors - clearly an LA socialite versus a NY-driven journalist - but she was nothing but sweet and professional and I think even ended up writing about the line.

I'm not saying she didn't have any troubles back then - she was cosmetically plumped and primped beyond any 20-something I had ever seen - but she wasn't the kooky character we'd all come to question on the pages of Page Six and the TMZ screen.

Anyway, that's my good memory of her and what I'll remember. Hardly a band-aid for something much deeper.

Good things cooking

2010-01-03T18:19:00.001-08:00

I know very little has changed except the number, but in the first three days of 2010, I already feel lighter, happier, just all around better than I did for the last nine or so months of 2009. The last few days I've just been bumbling around my apartment, unusually happy, optimistic - a feeling I barely recognized after the last year. Before going to bed last night, I found myself and giddy and full of gratitude - for no reason other than I feel like something significant has shifted. Even if it is only a page on the calendar.

My New Year's started early on Thursday, around 10:30 AM to be exact, when the six of us at the office popped open the first bottle of champagne. That led to a bottle of wine, which led to another bottle of champagne, which led to about an hour and a half of sobering up before I went to the gym. Hey - had to leave room for later. That night, my friend Lauren had a party, and since I had started earlier - and was driving - I had exactly two drinks and left at 12:15. It was a fun night - I just wanted to leave before having too much fun.

Friday morning I woke up at 7:30, watched three hours of BH90210 on Soap Net, then started to wonder what to do with the rest of my day. As I was cleaning the apartment, I got struck with an odd urge to cook, and so invited my friend Kim over for a Mexican fiesta. Keep in mind that I never cook, never have any desire to cook, and yet I could not think of anything I wanted to do more that day. So I went shopping for ingredients, and whipped up these yummy low fat chicken soft tacos that were actually more like chicken fajitas, and which required me to actually handle the raw chicken breasts, which for some reason, I actually did not mind. Um, hello? Who AM I? Certainly not this girl who had an emotional meltdown over buying the wrong breasts and actually having to touch them. Maybe 2010 Lori is turning over a new leaf.

Well, that might be optimistic, but I can't help but be reminded of how I'd always held kind of a disdain for yoga, until the one day I just woke up with the urge to do it. Is cooking the new yoga? Probably not, but if I see yummy tattooed Top Chef Michael Voltaggio one more time, I might have to start paying attention.

Because, yes, I saw him at the beach today, where it was 80 degrees and I went rollerblading with Miya to celebrate the weather. He was with his wife, and I'm surprised I even recognized him out of the element, but, like I said, maybe I just need to start paying attention. After rollerblading, Miya and I went to a beachside bar to grab a drink as the sun set, and ran into another friend. And that's a good way to sum up how this whole weekend has felt - random, fun, full of energy and good things on the horizon.

Thanks for continuing to join me on this journey, and happy 2010!

Holiday recap

2009-12-29T05:42:00.000-08:00

I was planning a nice photo recap of the holiday weekend back east, but when I went to upload the photos, and, for the first time read the manual, I accidentally deleted all the pictures from the camera. Oops.

So, for now, here is a brief, bullet-pointed list of the highlights:

- Flew out on Thursday morning. After a brief delay, ended up sitting next to a nice young guy on the plane who chatted my ear off for three of the five hours. He was fun to talk to but I always think it is so awkward to have a conversation with your seatmate because you either strain your neck, or have to physically turn your body to face them, either option which results in talking about six inches away from their face. I've felt less intimate making out with certain people.

- Spent Christmas at my father's house with about 10-12 friends and family members. Learned my dad's house has a ghost, which I always kind of suspected, but just based on my own crazy paranoia, and nothing concrete. Now I'm wondering if my 33 years of crazy are well-founded. I'm never sleeping over there again, in any case.

- Ran lots of errands with my mom and let her cook for me. Did you know my mom is going to Ft. Lauderdale for New Years? Hanging out at the Hard Rock? How cool is she?

- Saw some old high school friends, and their kids, which I really enjoy.

- Went to see "It's Complicated" in the theater. Cute movie. A little over-directed, but very funny. Alec Baldwin plays a character similar to Jack Donneghy, and he, I thought, was the best part of the movie.

- Woke up yesterday at 4 AM (EST) to make a 6:15 AM (EST) flight, which delivered me in LA at 9:15 AM (PST) which basically meant I had been awake for eight hours before even starting my day. Though I did sleep on the plane, so that helped in terms of exhaustion, though not in terms of making me feel like I'd been through some arcane mode of time travel.

There were probably a few other highlights that I am forgetting, but I should be getting back to work, even though it's fun just to sit in my office and play among the quiet. I hope you all had a nice Christmas or just a few days off, and that you'll join me for some decent blog writing in the new year.

Vanity and vapidity

2009-12-20T20:02:00.000-08:00

The laws of living in LA require me to note that while my family and friends in the northeast were getting pummeled with snow, I was sipping sangria outside on Venice Beach on the 79 degree day.

Sorry, kids. Just fulfilling my civic duty.

After a week or two of genuinely cold temperatures, it began warming up on Friday. I noticed when I went outside for lunch, and started sweating through my heavy sweater. Which got me thinking... why are they called "sweaters"? It can't be because they make you sweat - that would not be a selling point. Why aren't they called "warmers"? Or "woolies"? Or something that highlights their best attribute, that they keep you toasty in cold weather? I guess because "toasters" was already taken?

On that note, why do the British call them jumpers? What do sweaters (or, warmers, as I'm going to start calling them) have to do with jumping? I can understand why we (Americans) refer to a certain style of dress as a jumper. At least, when I think of a jumper, I think of what I wore as a four year old, when I was doing a lot of jumping and playing and romping around the room (see also: romper) - there's a certain implication that because they are long enough and heavy enough (my imaginary jumpers are all made of corduroy), one could actually jump in them without the material flying up and exposing the midsection. Of course, this all made sense in my head but was just invalidated with a quick Google search that resulted in this explanation. So, never mind.

Those same deep thoughts continued to occupy my brain as I walked towards my parking garage at the end of the workday. As I passed by the neighborhood diner, I turned to the window to check out my reflection. I was surprised to see a woman a few steps behind me, walking so close in stride, I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed her at my heels. Instinctively, I looked over my shoulder, perhaps to confirm that I should move out of her way. She wasn't there. I looked over my other shoulder; also not there. Confused, I looked back into the window for this invisible ghost woman, and realized that she was not walking behind me at all, but was, in fact, a customer at the diner. She was inside the restaurant.

I don't know which came first but the egg will certainly outlast

2009-12-13T17:27:00.000-08:00

So, it's been more than two weeks since Thanksgiving, and I'm still working on all the leftovers.

No, I don't mean turkey, sweet potatoes, or any of the main course dishes - those I finished early into the first week. What I am still working on and feeling guilty about neglecting are the odds and ends like carrots and celery stalks, four types of both cheese and crackers, and a seemingly bottomless supply of eggs.

Since my mom was flying in late the night before Thanksgiving, I had to do the food shopping ahead of time. She gave me a list, checked it twice, and on it were two dozen eggs. "Seriously?" you may ask. I did. We were only hosting four people.

"Sure," she said. "Whatever we don't use, you can hardboil." Okay.

We used four. Four eggs out of 24.

Now I like hardboiled eggs well enough. I typically only eat the whites, with a little yolk thrown in for good measure. But no one, other than perhaps the Easter Bunny, ever needs 20 hardboiled eggs on-hand.

I boiled eight of them two Sundays ago, and ate egg salad every day for lunch that week. Then last Sunday, I boiled the remaining 12, and ate spinach salad every day for lunch that week. Except Friday, which was our office holiday party, where we get taken out to lunch. No matter. I included three eggs per salad, so by Thursday, I was officially finished with my marathon egg-eating anyway. Or so I thought.

This year, instead of our annual white elephant gift exchange, my company thought it would be festive to hold a cookie contest. The entries didn't have to be cookies - they could be any dessert - and they didn't have to be homemade to win. But you know that nothing store-bought would. So after pouting and shouting and generally sulking about having to bake during my busy week, I got in the spirit and decided to just pick up a box mix. Which, you know, meant buying more eggs. (This time, at least, I purchased only half a dozen.)

Since I knew my box mix wouldn't win on originality, I thought maybe I could at least make mine look the most festive. I found this recipe for M&M's Gingerbread Picture Cookies, and it seemed simple enough. Except that when I got home and started baking, I didn't realize until after I poured in 1 and 1/4 cups of water that I was following the recipe for gingerbread cake and not soft gingerbread cookies. Crap.

I contemplated running out and buying another mix, but truthfully, I just didn't care that much. I figured I would cut the cake into squares and decorate them anyway. Not to mention that once I took a closer look at the two recipes, I realized that the cookies didn't even NEED eggs, and then I would have bought them for no reason.

What I should have gone back for was "Mini" M&M's. I somehow missed that word when reading the recipe, and just bought the original-sized M&M's. And this is how you know I am bad at math since it never occurred to me that they might be too large to effectively decorate a 2-inch cookie. But because of my poor reading comprehension skills, I wasn't making 2-inch cookies anymore, so I managed to pull a Tim Gunn and make them (kind of) work:

Cute as they were, it probably won't surprise you that they didn't win. That prize went to a red and green jello mold that, in fairness, tasted better than it looked. The good news is that I did win $100 in a belly-dancing contest, which was probably one of the last things I would ever want to do in front of co-workers, but at least I was compensated for my loss of dignity.

What? Your company doesn't bring in a half-naked dancer to your holiday party and expect everyone to get up and take a lesson? You mean that might be considered awkward or inappropriate? Oh, that's just par for the course around here. Though nothing could compare to the money machine.

So that was a nice, unexpected end to the week, but I'm ending my weekend exactly as I have for the past few Sundays - hardboiling this week's lunch. I'm letting you all know now - I'm officially skipping Easter this year.

It's not supposed to look like this, right?

2009-12-08T11:50:00.000-08:00

On the plus side, if I stand close enough to it, maybe my bathroom could double as a tanning booth?