Fawty with my Shawty (or eating on my birthday)

Why, hello again!

Yesterday was my birthday and anniversary (Birthaversary) so I am now 1 day older and deeper in debt, literally, cause we spent some ka-ching yesterday!

Since it was so low-key phenomenal, and totally all about eating, I figured I'd give you the highlights (with minimal pix, cause we forgot the camera like dummies):

1st - Wanted to start the day with yoga, but was sleepy. We said screw-it and slept in. Sean made me delicious protein pancakes with berries. That was healthy right?!?

2nd - gym, ran, weights, sweated, did not feel like a total gluttonous lump...yet.

3rd - Lunch reservations at The Huntley Penthouse, which is a fabulous hotel about 1 block south. It's normally way to fabulous for the likes of us, but Seen got me a saucy black dress as a present, so we decided we could fit in. The view is gorgeous. The restaurant is on the 16th floor, exactly 2 blocks east of the Santa Monica beach, so you can pretty much see up and down the coast through giant windows that surround the space. I was facing the beach, so that's the view I had. Seen was facing the restaurant, so he got to look at me (great view...) AND pretty much the whole city. We both had the crispy skin salmon, which was served on tomato coulis. Is it still a healthy lunch if I had a big ole Mojito. The salmon was good, the mojito was ok, I kept burping mint the rest of the day (TMI?)

4th - We met Irma at Oceana, which is a swank hotel about 1 block north of us. Due to it's swankness and celebritardness, they don't usually allow non-guests to come into the lounge, which is right off the pool area. We just walked in like we belonged and nobody bothered us :)

The Oceana makes a toasted marshmallow shake that Irma had told me about 3-4 weeks ago. I figured it was a good b-day desert. I was right, it tasted like a toasted marshmallow shake, which costs $14. Lets just say I'm gonna figure out how to make those at home.

5th - Exhausted by the days exploits (of walking 3-4 blocks for foods) we decided to skip our beach plans and just hang at home and make dinner. I made pesto, tossed some chicken I'd baked earlier into the food processor with the pesto and then made home-made ravioli's with the filling. Now I really want a pasta maker, cause I just can't roll this dough out thin enough! As I am normally a horrible cook, I'll take the raves we both gave this effort.

See, nothing too exciting, just food, lots of delicious food! Seen made the day wonderful by taking off work and hanging out with me. I kinda wish every day was my birthday (then I'd be a little over 14,000)

Textercising - Copyright Stinky Junior

This post makes me feel a little like Andy Rooney, only I'm not as funny or as saggy (yet): Didya ever wonder who is so important that they have to be texting while they're on a treadmill?

We're going to the gym now instead of Muscle Beach, which is not happy making because I am still sans iPod and our current gym is like 4 blocks from UCLA, so it's filled with beautiful co-eds who are probably very smart, but because I'm shallow and they're pretty, let's just say they are vapid and I prefer working out on Muscle Beach, well, cause it's on the beach and it's all gymnastical and body weight. (and it's cool.)

But Seen hurt his ankle on the Santa Monica stairs, and we're workout buddies, so we go to the gym so he can avoid feet related exercises, like slippery stairs and walking and such.

While at the gym, I try to just focus on my own mat, as they say in yoga. Focus on my own workout, but hell, there are pretty co-eds of both varieties to look at. Lots of eye candy and fashion ideas. What cracks me up is the 40% of girls, and about 3% of the boys, who are texting while they work out. I can not relate (or conjugate) to textercisers.

Dude, I don't really like going to the gym, so I'm gonna actually make an effort while I'm there, so I can get OUT of there. Why go if you're just gonna kinda pedal on the stationary bike while textercising or sorta do crunches while your thumbs are flying away? Okay, you do look good in your Juicy sweat gear, but there is a Coffee Bean 3 doors away... Much less effort down there, and they have cookies!

"I just don't get it." Amy Rooney

No Wheaties

Beer. I love beer.

Unfortunately, I also have that whole "sensitivity to wheat" thing going on, so beer stuffs me up and gives me hella hangover the next morning, even if I only have one! Life seemed so unfair, until...

Hurray for Redbridge! A delightful beer that has a wonderfully rich red flavor. It is made with sorghum instead of wheat, so no hangover (ok, hangover may occur if you have more than, say, 2 or 3.) I've tried several gluten-free beers and this one is the tastiest (also the most readily available.) We've asked our local liquor store to stock it and I know that BevMo does carry it.

Redbridge is Anheuser-Busch's answer for the alcoholic, beer-loving Celiac suffering crowd and we say 'Thank you sirs!"

Inspirational Pigeons

It's mid-year (almost) and my mid-year resolutions have just kicked in. Okay they were kicked in last week, but hey, I'm an early starter.

Big resolution: Since I am "Fun-employed" I am treating my writing like a job. I have a set, scheduled time to write daily. I've been going to the Coffee Bean and writing for 1-2 hours every morning. (Ok, 4 mornings in the last week).

There are two pigeons hanging around the Coffee Bean who are "handicapped": Stumpy, who has one regular foot and one foot with just one talon on a stump and, the guy I saw this morning with two toes that are black and turn up on the end of his foot. Ouch.

They don't seem to let their handicap stop them, so I'm oddly inspired by them. I've got good feet, aside from a slight case of plantar faciitis, and no health problems. If these little moochers can make a go of it, I guess I can make it out of the house to write.

I'll try to get a pic of Stumpy tomorrow. I always try to slip him some scone without the other pigeons noticing, maybe he'll see me and pose for the camera.

sticky kitty

In the Lessons I've Learned from Munchy file.

Liquid cat laxative, Lactulose, doesn't always go down the hatch properly. Sometimes, even when you think it's all in, it can bubble up out mouth corners and and drip onto fur.

Lactulose makes for sticky fur if not thoroughly washed off immediately. Munchy has a few pointy spots here and there on her fur. Petting her comes with an occasional fun and pokey discovery now.

And now for something completely different, Munchy action shots:






Yup, she's nutty.

One Year

One year ago, on May 4th, our Weasel passed away. Weasel was one of a kind. Since she didn't have a memorial or couldn't have an obituary, I thought I'd write a few words about her here. So that her legacy lives someplace outside of the hearts of her people, who miss her still.

Sean rescued Weasel and her sister Munchy from a house filled with noisy children and dogs and lots of other cats in August of 1992. She was a 4 month old, bossy runt of a grey striped kitten. Anytime we moved, and we moved every year, she ran around the new digs, yelling and owning the place immediately while her sister would find any closet to hide in.

As a kitten, we would take Wease into the yard and toss roses from the rose bushes or dandelions into the yard for her. She would chase them and bring them back in her mouth. She must have missed that game, for a few years after we decided to keep her indoors, she would pull socks out of the sock drawer and walk around the house yowling. We called her the sock killer. And we could never keep flowers in the house. Weasel loved to eat roses, and then throw them back up.

During the first 6 months I was in California, before Sean moved out and I was all alone in the heart of a pre-gentrified Hollywood, Weasel was my comfort. She slept next to me on the tiny futon on the floor and loved me in my loneliness.

As she aged she developed some odd habits; she loved being held and nursing on the shoulder of a terry-cloth robe. At some point she decided it would be awesome to stick her nose into my ear and start licking. It wasn't a constant occurrence, but when it happened, she purred with kitty glee and we cringed and laughed at the tickling.

Weasel was the cat who would always come out and say Hi to guests. She always wanted to meet people and be in the middle of the conversation. When she passed, several people who knew her agreed she was the best, most sociable cat they had known.

She was sick for a while, losing weight for a good 6 months with no diagnosis as to what the problem was from the vet. Then, one night she just suddenly jumped off my chest and ran out of the room. I knew then that something was seriously wrong. She stopped eating, she threw up 5-6 times a day. I took her to the vet for fluids and diagnosis, but he was cold "how long do you want to experiment". I didn't want to experiment, I just wanted Weasel to be ok. I called the House Call vet to come see her as soon as he could, Sunday May 4th 2008.

Friday and Saturday we gave her IV fluids but on Saturday afternoon she was obviously gravely sick. She even turned her head when offered bits of turkey. She hadn't eaten anything of substance since Monday morning. She even threw up water immediately and continued throwing up over and over again.

Sunday morning, she laid next to me in her usual position, tucked between my arm and my body with her front legs extended, kneading my bicep. She yelled at me and jumped onto the counter to drink water. I petted her boney back and her sweet head and she loved me back. When the vet came, he explained that she was very, very sick and after much description and discussion gently helped us come to the conclusion that she was in a downward spiral with more and more days like Saturday ahead of her. He helped us in our decision to help her out of her pain.

At 4:45 he gave our Weasel a sedative. I rocked her in my arms. I kissed her head and told her that I loved her. I thanked her for taking care of me for 16 loving years. She slowly licked her lips a few times and then she stopped. Then the vet gave her an injection that took the spirit of Weasel out of that tiny grey body, leaving only the shell.

No sad music played on a soundtrack for Weasel. There wasn't a list of her accomplishments in the paper. I told people about her, but she there was so much to her, I'll never remember everything. But some of it is here, so she won't be lost forever. I won't forget all the good.

She was the best cat, friendly to strangers, ornery and funny and extremely loving. I love you The Cheese. I still miss you. You are irreplaceable.

Hustling for my Blog

Hiya,

The truth has finally come out. I was indeed a model for Hustler.

Hustler Clothing that is, and the pictures were never published. Check out the whole story on my FaN Blog.

BTW, my eyes are up here.





(naturally sexy)