Hey There, Pammy-Girl!

A new friend out here seems to be quite popular with just about everyone. So much that she’s double-booked on most weekends and her phone is ringing constantly with admirers. She has what she calls a “Boy-tourage” and what a group it is. Yes, I am jealous because I, on the other hand, have a “Wierdo-tourage”. Always have, too. Couldn’t expect that to possibly change just because I got a different zip code.

Several months ago, I was asked to be the PR person for a fundraising event (pancake breakfast and auction). Since we’re located in Hollywood, we got some VERY NICE donations: $500 necklace (which sold for $35), crystal encrusted flip-flops (OK, those were kind of lame), $300 leather purses, scores of DVD sets (Fraiser, Seinfeld, LOST), 2 all-access passes to the LA Film Festival, beach cruisers, passes to Disneyland, mani/pedi, personal training for a month… REALLY nice stuff.

The day of the event, my job was over because I got the word out: both the public and the press showed up. I pitched in where I saw a void and that was in the kitchen cracking eggs and making pancake mix. Did I mention I wasn’t looking my best? My hair was clean and I had on my lip gloss and mascara, but that’s about it. I was in the kitchen making food for 100 people; how was I supposed to look? I didn’t think anyone would take notice of me. HA.

When I first arrived in LA back in January, a 50 year-old guy hit on me in a major way and I was frightened. If he had green hair, you could mistake him for an Oompa Loompa.

There’s just something about him and he has a crazy look in his eye, along with a disturbing smile. He’s the one who offered to pay my friends 20K if I married him. I’m not making this up. SHUDDER. (Turns out I’m not the first woman he’s bothered; I’ve heard stories that sent shivers up my spine. He’s been approached a number of times by mediators, suggesting he back off.)

After putting the word out that I’ve got a serious boyfriend, I’ve successfully avoided him since February. Then came last month’s breakfast and auction. He followed me around all day with a camera: making pancakes, carrying a container of eggs, pouring juice, eating, picking up trash, holding someone’s baby, talking to people. I finally told him to leave me alone (I think what I really said was, “Get away from me. I don’t need your help and there will be no more picture taking”). I bet he’s got some creepy collage / shrine in his basement next to a mannequin that’s got a blond wig and wearing that sweater I can’t find.

· Do you dance in front of the mirror? I wouldn’t so much call it dancing.

· Ever told a lie? Please. Do I breathe?

· Been arrested? No, but I busted some students for drugs who were then subsequently arrested.

· Kissed a picture? I’m sure I did back in the day… didn’t every hormonal teenager? 

· Fallen asleep at work/school? You bet. In fact, I learned that if I put a pen in my hand and cradled my head in the other from the back of the room it’s hard to tell if you’re sleeping or concentrating REALLY hard.

· Held an actual snake? Yes… which is why I’m now terrified of them.

· Ever run a red light? Hello… I lived in DC and now live in LA. Of course I’ve run red lights. Ran three this morning on the way to work, actually.

· Ever drink and drive? Never, but I did get in a car with a friend who had drunk too many and it scared the shit out of me. Now I always drive.  And I don’t drink so it works out for everyone.

· Been suspended from school? Almost. After a nasty chat with the Dean of Women and some groveling on my part to the principal, I received 3 days of Detention Hall a week before high school graduation.

· Ever been fired from a job? Well, I was asked not to come back to a temp job because I lacked a high enough skill set (to answer phones and open the front gate, mind you).

· Been in a fist fight? Freshman year, my scary roommate tried to break another roommate’s arm. I pulled them apart and that resulted in a fist fight between me and the brute.  Apparently I hit like a girl.  This might have something to do with my enrollment in boxing classes a few years ago.

· Sang karaoke? You know it. Used to do it every Thursday. Loved it!

· Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? Duh. I’m a woman.

· Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes. It’s painful and you smell whatever you drank for the rest of the day.  I have to say that chocolate milk is the worst because what smells worse than old milk?

· Ever gone “under the knife?” Plastic surgery, no, but I’m not against it. I did have a tumor removed a few years ago which caused me to spend 3 days in the hospital and 6 weeks recovering. Not fun.

· Ever laughed until you wet yourself? No, but I have laughed so hard I’ve snorted.

· Ever been dumpster diving? I found some really good furniture that way (this was in college before I could afford furniture).

· Kissed in the rain? Sadly no, but I have kissed on the beach.

· Sang in the shower? Not often as it distracts me while shaving my legs.

· Sat on a rooftop? Yes. I’ve also fallen off a rooftop.

· Ever witnessed a crime? Yup: vandalism, attempted kidnapping, shop lifting, and I saw some women pull a gun on her husband. She didn’t shoot him so I’m not sure if that’s really a crime but since it was at an airport, she got arrested (and this was pre-9/11).

· Thought about your past with regret? I did that so often that I made a goal 10 years ago to live without any regrets. This is why I do so many incredibly strange things.

· Been pushed in the pool with your clothes on? Of course.

· Skinny dipped? Nope and I don’t feel bad about that.

· Cried yourself to sleep? Just the other night, actually.

· Fired a gun? Yes, but only at targets and those orange disc thingys.  I took a class in college (Literature of the Outdoors) and we were taught how to pack and shoot black powder rifles.  First, black powder tastes awful.  Second, they pack quite a punch and if you’re not careful you can dislocate your shoulder.  Finally, you can’t hear for about 6 hours after you fire one of those things.  I’m not a big fan of guns or the NRA.

· Liked someone with nobody else knowing about it? For a little while, but I usually have to share with someone so I can over-analyze everything.

· Played strip poker? Just regular poker and I suck at it.

· Donated blood? I’m anemic so no. Plus I pass out when I see needles and blood… I was a mess prior to my surgery.

· Liked someone you shouldn’t? Always.

· Have a tattoo? No, but I think about it lots.

· Been to jail? I visited but not because I was arrested. It was a school field trip… probably set up to scare the heebie jeebies out of us. 

· Have or had any piercings? Remember when it was cool in the 80s to pierce your ears 50 billion times?  And when it was cool to have more than one piercings in one ear than the other?  That was me.

· Caught someone cheating on you? No, but I’ve let guys lead me on (”I like you and I want to move this forward but I’m not sure because there are lots of people out there, but I really like you…”) and I’m so stupid that I just take it until I’m pushed too far.

· Mooned/Flashed someone? Not on purpose.

· Been to a rodeo? You bet… love them! I love demolition derbys, too.  They’re like throw-backs to 80s hair band videos.

· Been to a NASCAR race? No.  Yuk. 

· Been in love? I’m not sure.  I know I’ve gotten my heart broken, though. 

· Met a celebrity? Yes and to be honest, most are are huge tools.

· Been on TV? Yes, but only on “uncool” programs like the evening news.

· Know how to cook? I make magic in the kitchen.

· Slept outdoors? Yup.. love it! 

· Spent the night in a snow cave? Why in the hell would I do that?

· Smoked? Hell no. Breathing is hard enough… why would I light a fire 3 inches from my face and inhale?

· Ever done drugs? You can get certain drugs in Canada without scripts and I took far too many pain pills at a business meeting after tearing my rotator cuff, hitting my head and blacking out. I showed up to an event completely stoned.  The president was horrified and sent me back to my hotel room to sober up and then didn’t speak to me for a few weeks.  In my defense, it wasn’t my intention to be stoned… I had avoided using the pain meds for the duration of the conference so I wouldn’t be spacey.  This was the final event party and my body needed a little relief.  Sadly, I went a little overboard in getting that relief due to the pain.

· Thought you were going to drown? I can think a couple of times when I was a wee bit panicked, but nothing too traumatic as I love to swim.  I do stay out of the water when I hear about a shark sighting, though.

· Play an instrument? I play Rock Band like a pro.

· Bungee jumped, skydived, based jumped, etc? No… I’m terrified of heights. I can’t even cliff dive.  But I’d actually love to go sky diving, so who wants to take me?

My mouth gets me into trouble… a lot. Sometimes I don’t even have to try and I find myself insulting someone for no apparent reason. I don’t even know these people and I skewer them in public. What is wrong with me? Several years ago I went to a dinner party knowing only a handful of others in attendance. For some unknown reason, I told a story about a co-worker who continually asked me to babysit her son. I said, “I’m almost 30 years old and I’m babysitting. I have a 14 year-old’s job.” And wouldn’t you know it… the girl sitting next to me said, “I’m a nanny.” NICE. Am I classy or what?

So tonight found me at a similar gathering. Someone complimented me on my tan (thanks, because I was feeling quite Casper-esqe) and then asked if I’d lightened my hair. This led to a discussion of hairdressers where one guy asked, “And what was your rule again?” I of course said (and this is where the not-thinking part comes into play), “Gay men only. I just don’t trust women to do my hair because I don’t think they’re as good.”

Of course, of course(!) the girl sitting across from me had said not 20 minutes earlier that she was a hair dresser. AUGH!!! Where are the Earth’s sink holes when you need them? I wanted to die. How do you apologize for something like that without sounding like a huge tool?

UPDATE 1:
Tonight I was playing Bunko and I was the youngest by at least 20 years. One woman was telling the group how her niece was worried that she’s not married (at age 20). I piped in by saying, “Oh there’s nothing to stress about. If I had gotten married when I was 18, I can’t imagine the loser I would’ve picked.” The woman sitting next to me said, “I got married at 19 and it’s all worked out.”

UPDATE 2:
One woman kept referring to a man named BILL and continued looking at me as if I knew him (because everyone else seemed to be in the know). Finally I asked who Bill was. “He’s my dead husband,” she said. Oh my.

I had a close call on Saturday morning while I was out running. There have been numerous occasions where I’ve had to dodge traffic because people A) don’t pay attention to pedestrians; or B) don’t care and gun it when they see you trying to cross the street. I’ve actually punched the back of cars and yelled to let people know they got far too close, but I’ve been able to escape actual injury. Until Saturday.

Like I said, I was running west towards the beach. I noticed a woman pushing an older lady in a wheelchair. I estimated that we’d arrive on the corner at the same time, so I decided to speed up in order to avoid an awkward corner meeting. Well I’ll be damned if she didn’t start sprinting, too. Give me a break. She’s pushing someone who’s older than dirt and has the sudden need to reach the corner before me, a runner? Did I mention that I also had to jump to the curb to avoid being hit by an over jealous teenage driver?

The corner was not a happy place. I saw the wheelchair ramming into my already weak left ankle so I jumped over the old lady’s outstretched legs like a hurdle and went sailing into one of those metal boxes that sells The LA Times. There was a thud and a dull pain to my left bicep. I stumbled a wee bit and grunted some. I didn’t think much of it until I got home and pulled my iPod out of its pouch which, of course, straps on to my left bicep. While I could still hear music, the screen was cracked in multiple places and once the songs in my shuffle were complete there would be no way of successfully starting music over again since the screen no longer worked. At the point of impact was a deep dent from the corner of that metal newspaper box.

So at this point I’m glad my arm is in tact and that I have no cuts or bruises. Then I got ticked. iPods aren’t cheap and while I can still function without one, running has become much easier and almost bearable since I can turn the music up so loud that I can’t hear myself wheezing panting breathing. I can’t believe I let a woman in a wheelchair knock me off balance. But then I have to wonder: what would have happened if I crashed into her instead of that metal box? While I’m not as spry as I used to be, I still probably heal faster than Grandma Moses.

I trekked down to the Apple store, told my story and while they felt badly for my plight, I was informed that my iPod was no longer under warranty. They gave me a 15% discount on a 3rd generation Nano for recycling my old one, though. I wanted at red Nano, but they only sell the red ones in 8GB or higher because, well, they didn’t really have a good answer for that. So I settled for silver. Now I have the joy of synching my music with my new iPod and trying to figure out why only half of them transferred. I was going to purchase a new cell phone but I suppose that can wait. Do you think the federal government will issue another stimulus check? I could really use one.

Is that the most random thing you ever heard? Ya well, it came out of my mouth a few months ago during a conversation about what couples have (or don’t have) in common. It’s specifically for times like these that I’ve kept empty notebooks around so I can write down such verbal treasures. Sometimes I’m pretty witty but most times, I steal from others. Thankfully, they’ve got good stories to go with them.

“You’re one cough away from having your own 900 number.”
- former co-worker after hearing my Kathleen Turner impression thanks to another bronchial infection, 2003

“Giving me this cold is reason #17 as to why that horrible woman will never be visiting my house ever again. Do I even want to know the first 16 reasons?
Well, they involve a lot of swearing and probable cause for murder, so I’m thinking not.” - me telling said co-worker how I got the cold and why I loathed my roommate’s mother, 2003

“You can’t do worse than zero.
Um… yes you can.”
- conversation between me and my BGF. He was right, 2005

“He’s seven. It’s not like he’s Picasso of the piano.
Right… because that would be Mozart.”
- my older sister explaining the finer points of her son’s talents and my smart ass response, 2004

From my understanding, men are visual creatures… why do you think the porn industry is so successful? Thin women with flat abs and big boobs will always be the center of attention, brain dead or not. It’s true that women look, too.  I’ll admit that I drool when I see someone attractive, but the men I lust over just might surprise you as I can be incredibly shallow.

1. The Rock. I’m incredibly attracted to Polynesian men and he’s half-Samoan.  Is he smart?  While he does give a good interview, I’m betting he’s not going to win a contest of wits.  But this is strictly a visual thing and he is ridiculously hot.

2. James Marsters & David Boreanaz (AKA: Spike & Angel). Scoff all you want, but Angel and Buffy were quite possibly two of the best-written shows of television and their characters were rich and complex (and shirtless just enough).  In fact since my cable is loopy until mid-next week, I’ve been watching Angel and Buffy DVDs.

3. Dr. Drew. The hair, the glasses, SMART, the fact that he’s an MD who deals with relationships, emotions and effed up celebrities with drug issues… all very hot.  Plus isn’t afraid to tell the world that Tom Cruise is a freaky mess and needs help.

4. Jonathan Rhys Myers. He morphs into characters (Elvis, Henry VIII) and has that Irish accent, a great singing voice and nice lips, too.  I’m pretty sure he’s an alcoholic with emotional issues and a strange attachment to his mother, but who cares?  Look at him!!!

5. Zach Braff. I think it’s because he’s so incredibly awkward… it’s adorable.  In interviews he sounds like the world’s biggest d-bag but again, can’t help being attracted to the smart dorky ones.

6. David Beckham. Not very bright. Has annoying girl voice. Married to a praying mantis. But have you seen his legs, abs and arms? Great smile and fabulous hair, too.  This reminds me: I think I’ll purchase tickets to an LA Galaxy game for an up close and personal view.

7. Brian Williams. He’s not the only reason why I watch the NBC Nightly News, but his delivery of stress-inducing topics (the current state of the economy, natural disasters, War in Iraq, the housing market) makes them much easier to digest.

8. Justin Timberlake. A little out of my age range, I know, but come on. He digs older women. Talented, respectful, multi-talented, sharp dresser, finally stopped thinking he’s black, that smile…

9. Ryan Reynolds. Fuh-ny. Really funny. Great teeth. Beautiful. He should be engaged to me, not Scarlett Johansson.

10. Sean Connery. You know I’m right and you guys… as the BEST (original and iconic) James Bond, don’t be ashamed of your man crush.

LATE BREAKING UPDATE:
Bluesuit 12 reminded me of one I over looked and I don’t know how that’s possible.  Well, I blame the writer’s strike for Prison Break going off the air in February.  Wentworth Miller is low-key, low-maintenance, low-profile.  Basically, he flies under the radar and I’ll be damned if I’m yet to see him filming around here.  Apparently he’s in Pasadena as I write this, filming next season’s episodes.  Good lord this man is beautiful… and I don’t care about the gay rumours, either.  And did I mention that he’s smart?  Hot and he has a brain.  Hey Wentworth!  My number is…

It’s a universal truth in Pammy Girl’s life that the first day (and sometimes week) of any new venture (job, school, moving to a new state) will result in nausea or vomiting.  I won’t sleep very well, if at all, and be nervous until I adapt to my surroundings.  Sure, I’ll drop a dress size or two which is always nice but I’ll feel like total crap and be jumpy — which doesn’t give off the best first impression.

For example: when I was in the 8th grade, my father took a sabatical and we moved to be closer to my grandparents.  On the second day of school, I missed the bus because I was busy throwing up.  My dad then drove me but had to pull over twice so I could puke on the side of the road.  Once arriving at school, I made my way to math class.  Fashion-wise, the teacher was a throw back to 1955 and could’ve been mistaken for an older George McFly.  Seriously.  The exact same glasses, greasy hair, pocket protector, stained shirt, dopey laugh… this guy was the total package.

Sometime over the summer he had broken his foot and was in a plaster cast.  Hygeine was obviously not a top priority as he hadn’t bothered to trim his toe nails since March the previous year.  He was also suffering from athletes foot and some other type of toe fungus.  Why didn’t he wear a sock over the cast?  I can only assume he wanted to air it out because not only did he have kicking breath, but the odor from the cast / foot created noxious fumes.

I was already teetering on the edge when sheer boredom overwhelmed me (how much fun can 8th grade math be?) and his diseased foot pulled me into a trance.  I couldn’t look away and suddenly realized there was going to be a serious problem unless I left the room.  I actually wrote him a note, saying I needed to barf.  He shouted for me to get out and I ran down the hallway.  Problem was, I’d never been on the second floor of the building and couldn’t find the bathroom.  I remember hearing an adult (it turned out to be the vice-principal) yelling after me as I was bolting down the hall.  She left me alone once I let loose all over the bathroom wall (I didn’t quite make it to the toilet).

I have dozens of stories like this and to be honest, I fully expected a repeat performance yesterday.  Oddly enough, the nervousness never showed.  I even ate breakfast… and a greasy one at that (egg, sausage, and cheese biscuit from Jack in the Box).  I love my job!  Here are the bad things (which really aren’t bad): my furniture hasn’t arrived yet so I’m at a desk in the lobby outside the dean’s office; HR is a little slow so I don’t have a parking permit, network access (official email), or an ID card (which functions as a key); and the dean’s assistant has a HUGE jar of mini chocolate bars between her desk and mine.

Once I get my office set up (next week), I’ll got a great view of the city.  My boss (the dean) is incredibly liberal with my hours.  Everyone is friendly and glad I’m here.  My commute is a whopping 15-20 minutes.  The bathroom is super clean and I’m yet to see anyone else use it.  There’s free GOOD chocolate any time I want, which will most likely come in handy when I have PMS.  I’m now fully insured and have a steady paycheck.  Did I mention that I’ve got 3 weeks of vacation in addition to 16 paid holidays (like Caesar Chavez Day) and the week between Christmas and New Year’s?  I’m also considering going to law school rather than working on my PhD.  I get free tuition, so why not?  I think my gym membership will be activated next week and I’ll most likely be getting a personal trainer by the end of the summer (must counter act the free chocolate).  Yes, my dear readers, things are looking up and the fact that I didn’t vomit proves it.

I was blog MIA last week due to a weekend getaway to Utah and Idaho to see family and for a friend’s wedding. I arrived on Wednesday and promptly ran into someone I had a crush on 12 years ago. Thankfully he’s still good-looking (well, a little pale and on the skinny side) and single (to be honest, he made a point of telling me he’s got a girlfriend but didn’t go into great detail). No, we did not exchange numbers or email addresses. No, we did not make plans to meet up or even ever speak again. It was just a nice random conversation and now it’s over. Unless he dumps his girlfriend and moves to LA, then it’s so on.

Is it sad to say that my longest relationship with a man is with my gay hairdresser? Every time I go to Utah, I make it a point to pay him a visit so he can make me feel like a princess. This time I talked my sister (Bluesuit 12) into going with me and viola! She’s now a convert and will become a slave to highlights and hair cuts. After flirting late last year with dark brown hair, I’ve returned to my almost platinum status. So if I do anything silly, klutzy, or say something remotely ridiculous, I’ll just blame it on the hair.

BEFORE

AFTER

Thursday found me meeting up with one of my closest friends from DC and we then drove to Pocatello. We had an intense conversation about — drum roll — changes in technology and web development. Snore all you want but it was good times. The next 24 hours were a blur of wedding preparations and the wedding itself. We had an impromptu hen party, complete with special items I gave the bride despite not knowing what most of them were. Yes, I went to a “naughty” store and purchased unique items for the honeymoon. While her mom and some sisters-in-law thought I was the world’s biggest pervert, the bride was most appreciative. I had the opportunity to do the bride’s make up and serve as a back up photog / bridal assistant for the day. I even caught the bouquet at the reception. That, of course, wasn’t hard to accomplish since my only competition included an 8 year-old, 6 year-old, and my DC friend who’s engaged.

I am so the next one to get married

The weekend concluded with a trip to my aunt’s house to catch up. Despite averaging 5 hours of sleep per night, I’ve never felt better. I had a fabulous time and sadly, it was only 5 days. Hopefully I’ll see my sister again in a few weeks and will definitely see my friends in October for the next wedding (not mine, though, despite me catching the bouquet).

Set ups like this are the norm here in LA. You can even look find out what’s going on (movie, TV, music video) if you know how to read the cryptic yellow signs designed to keep away the curious or if you know who to flirt with (like a super bored security guard). But look closely. You will find nothing of importance happening nor will you see any A-listers. Why is that? Because movie production moves a wee bit faster than slugs. All they do for the general pop is take up valuable beach parking.

Trailers for the stars. Trailers? They’re acceptable when on a set but actors would NEVER be caught dead living (and yes, I get the irony of that) in one.

The snack tent or kraft services or whatever.

The overall look.

P.S. I didn’t bother flirting with the security guards because, quite honestly, I just didn’t care.  I’m already jaded!!!

I readily admit that I am partly responsible for the Global Warming and I’m paying for all the damage I did to the environment 20 years ago. I’m also horribly embarrassed, but it wasn’t just me and I think my older sister was the “stylist” of the below looks. I can’t believe my parents ever let us out of the house.

Fall 1988. Oh my scary. The pink button down is actually a nice blouse but the bangs… do you see how they jet straight up on one side only to swoop forward? How in the hell was this accomplished? It must have taken forever to create this every morning and I’m pretty sure most of my meager paper route salary went to pay for Aqua Net.

Spring 1989. I can’t believe my permed hair got bigger. The bangs have to measure AT LEAST 3″ above my head (possibly more)… they defy gravity!!! And what in the hell am I wearing??? Those “mom” jeans actually buttoned up above the waist and folded down. Combine that with a sailor shirt and a hankie around my neck — who did my sister and I think we were… pirates? To top it all off, notice the thick blue eyeliner.

March 1991. It just keeps getting better and better. I think I curled my permed hair to give it more volume. Really? It NEEDED more volume? That rat’s next already offered a child the same shade as a small tree and yet it needed to be bigger? I shudder to think how many hours it took to create that fortress of solitude. You realize that no individual hair moved on its own. And once again, I’m wearing so much blue eyeliner that you can barely see my eyes. At what point did I think this was an acceptable look to have before I walked out of the house, had a professional photographer capture the moment for eternity, and then actually send the photos out with my graduation announcement? Good grief.

August 1991. Looks as though bangs went out of vogue and ratting them into a barrette on my head was the replacement, along with crimping my already permed hair. Did the guy I went out with ever think, “Man, her hair is blocking my blind spot.”???

Not only did I destroy my portion of the environment, I also suffered some personal harm. If you look closely at the middle of my forehead (where the widow’s peak is supposed to be), you’ll notice a small bald spot. One morning I fell asleep while curling my bangs and dropped the curling iron on my head and burned half the hair follicles of my widow’s peak. And I wondered for such a long why my hair was damaged. Did I mentioned that it caught on fire freshman year in college during night games when a group of us broke into an abandoned building? Lit up like a torch. I don’t think I can support the return of big hair… and I’m a wee bit frightened of open flames.