What I'm Thankful For

As I sit in a house that's not mine, trying to find a place to put my purse so it isn't in the way but always ends up being in the way, feeling useless because I want to help but  don't want to get yelled at if I mess up the said helping, watching a football game on tv that I could care less about, all the while hoping someone switches the channel and happens upon The Incredibles playing on Disney, there is one thing on my mind that makes it all worthwhile:
Stuffing.
Beautiful, glorious stuffing. I really don't see why people nicknamed Thanksgiving Turkey Day when it's really all about the stuffing. Stuffing Day would be so much more appropriate. And it is a day where we indeed eat to the max, thereby "stuffing" our bodies, if you will, so it works both ways. I don't think I've ever met someone who did not say, "Yeah, turkey's ok, but what I really love is the stuffing." It's the number one desirable on the dinner table. It's the first leftover to disappear, if there is any to save. Nobody is saving a spot on their plate for cranberry sauce. It really makes my day go round. Even after the plates are cleared, and people start claiming patches of carpet to nap on, I'm thinking about 2nd dinner and the stuffing i will again pile on my plate in a few hours. I feel so bad for the souls who have ever suffered from bad stuffing. God knows I've heard horror stories. Bad ones. And the worst? Some fancy Aunt/Uncle decides that watching food network makes them a real chef and makes some gourmet stuffing with pecans or some other shit in it. Thankfully, that has never happened to me, and I'm pretty sure I will riot if someone substituted Old Faithful for "Stuffing Pizza." It's exactly as it sounds.

For some reason, this is the only day I eat stuffing (Friday after Thanksgiving excluded). I know stores sell it, but I feel just a little ridiculous and lot like a stoner if I sought out stuffing on regular days. I know there's no rule, but there is a guideline, and it's probably in my best interest to follow that guideline. And just like the McRib*, maybe stuffing is all the rage and then some because you only get it once a year. Unless you have it on Christmas too. Which I still don't get. Why turkey on both holidays that are a month apart? Branch out a little more, Whiteys.

So on this upcoming Thanksgiving Day, enjoy your stuffing. You earned it. And add an extra scoop for me. For reals. If you cannot finish it, which is highly doubtful because, come on, it's stuffing, pack it up and send it my way.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

*This in no way condones the consumption of McRib sandwiches. I'm looking at you, Maggie Clarke.

SmorgasBORED of thoughts.

Well, I'm bored as usual at work, and I decided to have that work for me and pick up my playwriting/screenwriting/any kind of theatrical writing because let's face it, it's fate that I am sitting in front of a computer all day with a lot of time on my hands. The universe is begging me to write. One tiny problem: I have writer's block. OF COURSE. I have it in all aspects of my life, including this blog that was started in order to amuse you and myself; well mainly just me and maybe my bored co-worker, and just the teensiest bit for resume purposes in case an online magazine is looking for a blogger specializing in rants and television. Thankfully, I can now write about writer's block so I guess I don't have it anymore but once I'm done with this post I will have to go back to simultaneously writing and deleting which has unwittingly turned into my new favorite past time.

And now I'm stuck again. I swear I had more on the subject but it left my brain. Now all I can think about is how Undercovers has been cancelled and I'm not too surprised because it wasn't anything out of the ordinary but I'm also sad because that means Ben Schwartz is out of a job but that also makes me happy because it wasn't a good role for him. Yes I did have coffee today why do you ask? Is it my lack of a structured sentence? Grammar can suck it right now cause I'm just going with the flow. Back to the show: I never gave you a review of it because I really didn't want to. The whole show was just about married spies who have to learn how to work together as a team in a new way. And NBC wondered why it wasn't attracting a young audience.

Back to writing. I have a lot of things swirling around in my little head that always sound good until I put them to paper. Right now I have three plots about a girl my age who isn't doing anything with her life. Whomever said to draw from your own experiences should have followed up with "if your experiences are exciting." Naturally those plots are on the back burner. And by back burner I mean saved and probably not revisited until I have to clear some space on my flash drive. I admire all you real writers out there. You can probably think of a beginning, middle, and end off the top of your head. I'm still stuck on the beginning.

I'm over this. McLafferty Out.

Halloweentown 2.

Song Stuck in Head: Fernando-Abba

I hope everyone had a good Halloween. I actually had plans for the first time in years, which sounds really sad but I don't lie about how boring my life is. That would be unfair the older me whenever she wants to reminisce about what a self righteous smart ass she was. Good times.
My friend Jessica discovered a 70's Soul dance party at SoHo on Saturday night. We all attempted to dress as 70's as we could. I say attempted mainly because I couldn't find anything that I liked/ fit me until the very last minute, and even then it was eh. Turns out it was not strictly 70's dress up, it was any costume, but oh well. They didn't turn us away. I made some makeshift bell bottoms an hour before I met up with my friends a.k.a. I pinned the fabric to my jeans. They hurt whenever they caught on my skin, but I got used to it. I had a Led Zeppelin vintage shirt for my top; I guess I was trying to go as a female Hyde from That 70's Show. Jess braided a band for my head, which helped tie my look down to a specific era. I like going to SoHo, mainly because I was one of the younger ones there. Everyone else was definitely 15 years my senior, and it's nice not having to crawl amongst the stupid 21 year olds that populate the other bars I seldom visit. And not to brag, but we were easily the best dancers there. i don't know if you lose skills as you age, or maybe it was the demographic (white, middle aged, heavy drinkers), but it wasn't hard to do. I couldn't seem to make out most of the costumes, but there was a guy who was dressed like the alien guy in Avatar whose name I would know if I saw that movie (suck it, James Cameron), and when he wore the full mask he looked super creepy. PLUS, we saw a big group of people do the thriller dance. Yeah/

I actually succeeded at my pumpkin carving adventure this year. Every time I attempt to do a somewhat intricate design it turns into a huge hole. In honor of my blind, not so cute dog Snuffles, I carved a Boston Terrier. If she could have seen it, I'd say she'd approve, then bark at me to get her a treat. Stupid dog. Johnny Boy did a tribute to Conan which looked awesome, and you'll have to take my word for it because I don't have the pictures uploaded yet. My hands, fingers, and arms hurt today, and even though I immediately assumed it to be early onset arthritis, common sense kicked in when I went over my previous day. Pumpkin carving is hard work, yo.

I also made my Dad's chili. Well, it's not his creation, but it's the one he made every Halloween for us and it is amazing and one of the few foods he could make better than my mom. That and meatloaf. It's ok, she's aware of it. I have extra if anyone in the Santa Barbara area wants some. Seriously. It can serve a small army.


High point of my day: Customers did not make me want to shove a pencil into my forehead. Success!

We so Crazy

I've heard it before. The same question, always asked with the same tone and inflection, usually a mixture of curiosity and exasperation with a hint of indignation, and a male is always the one inquiring.
You might know what I'm about to write. Us ladies have heard it many times in our life.
"Why are women so crazy?"

It's the question of the millennium. For males, that is. It feels like that's the first question they'd probably ask God when they die, only to be met by a hopeless shrug and an apology from the big guy.

But I know the answer. All women do. We only fight you because we are embarrassed to admit that we do have a whole bunch of crazy up in here, and the reason is even more appalling. The answer?

Men. It's always men. And not even men who are worth it. But why do women allow themselves to fall apart because of them? I don't know, the jury is still out on it. It must be something primal, but I'm no scientist, don't quote me on that. And I wouldn't have ever admitted it until I saw this story on Yahoo. Yes, that's where I get my news. Stop your judgment. The story was about a woman was just sentenced to 30 years in prison for tampering with another woman's parachute, causing her to fall to her death. Els Clottemans was a schoolteacher and an avid skydiver, which sounds like a cool gig, so why did she throw it all away?
It was all for a man. The deceased woman was apparently dating the same guy as Clottemans. Funnily enough, they're both named Els. Weird, but not the point. How much easier would it have been to break up with him? So much easier! And it would involve a lot less jail time. But the crazy doesn't help you think things out very well. It doesn't help at all.
It's why we see girls starting fights in clubs over some douchebag with bottle service. It's why some friendships are permanently ended. It's why girls are much better Facebook stalkers than guys. It's why we drive by boyfriends/crushes houses all the time for no reason at all...apparently....so I've been told. Why did Juliet kill herself when she awakes to find Romeo dead? Cra.zi.ness. Literally. I know that's fiction, but I know a lot of girls have fashioned their heartbroken suicides after that play. Fo' reals. I read about it once.

I know it's not just women who do this, but it's a pretty big majority. As one of the saner ones, I'd like to tell all the others out there to stop making us look so bad. It's not fun. We've come so far ladies! Are we really going to throw all our credibility out the window for some guy? Listen to me: Check yourself before you wreck yourself. It's for the good of our people. I know, it's not our fault. None of us are immune to the crazy. But keep an eye on it. It hurts more than it helps.

5-6-7-8!

So this weekend I tried Zumba for the very first time. "What's Zumba?" anyone under the age of 40 and/or not living in LA might ask. Good question. I'm not entirely sure myself, but it is a whole bunch of fast dances all mixed together to get you to sweat your soul out of your body while also being able to make you look completely ridiculous. Bonus! It is pretty fun, once you get over the fact that the moves can only be mastered by professionals. My friend and I got there a few minutes late and tried to hang out in the back, but the over-60 crowd dominated that area, too afraid to move up, so we made our way to the middle and literally, I mean literally, started shaking our asses. I don't know if the instructor had explained the warm up to everyone, but she gave no warning as she moved from exercise to exercise. I felt like Liz Lemon in a season 1 episode where Jenna drags her to a exercise class where everyone knows what they're doing except for her. Memory not as good as mine? Well, I'll show you. I searched high and low for it, and I couldn't get it alone, but it's in this here video. Enjoy. I'm at work, so I didn't watch it with sound, I hope there's not some weird song playing over it.



LOVE. IT. That was me at the beginning of class. Later on she explained the moves, and most weren't too hard to follow, but I definitely danced like a drunk white man at a wedding. Thankfully, everyone around me was flailing as well.
Will I go again? Definitely. Will other people laugh at me? Probably. But I'm used to that. Just another routine day for Angela...I need to go.

La cita delle ristoranti

Hello, my name is Angela, and I have an addiction to Facebook games.
(That's where you all say Hi, Angela. Or if we were in RENT we would sing to each other. In a perfect world...)

That felt good. Not really. It's sick. I need to stop, but I can't, not until I win. Want to know the kicker? You never win. Ever. It keeps going on and on and on and you're helpless to it's power. Apparently the games' only weakness is a healthy social life, and that is why I continue to spend my evenings at the computer, cleaning my restaurant and feeding my pet, Roscoe. It's horrible.

I used to scoff at these games, ignore all the invites my friends sent me, and just check my facebook only 10 times a day. I don't even know how I happened upon Restaurant City or Petville. I do know that I was overjoyed to discover that my co-workers had pets and we could all be neighbors. Then it all went downhill, and I believe at one moment I had 5 games I had to look after, each one more pointless than the next.

I blamed work. I mean, it's not very demanding. IMPORTANT? YES OF COURSE IT IS WHERE ELSE WOULD PEOPLE GO FOR QUALITY ENTERTAINMENT IN THE BEST LIVE VENUE IN SANTA BARBARA? (You never know who's reading this thing) I thought that if I had games to take up my day, the hours would pass. Yet they slow down the computer, take forever to load, and I can't even access Petville from my computer here. Did I quit then? No, of course not. Then I wouldn't be writing about this right now. Jesus, keep up people.

Even now as my avatar wanders down the street of abandoned restaurants, looking for coins or ingredients, I still keep it up. It's not like I'm enjoying this. I cringe when I hear the start up music, so why do I persistently check in every two hours? Sure, we have rehab for meth addicts, but what about facebook games? Where's my Loser's Anonymous?

I could just stop playing? Yeah, I suppose I can do that. It sounds weird, but I could try it. I might have to write out goodbye notes to all my friends who still play, but since it's really just my sister and two people whom I suspect are only participating in it to humor me, it won't be a long list.

Don't worry about me. I'll heal in time. I'm anxiously awaiting the release of Boy Meets World on Netflix. That'll keep me occupied for a while, so, that's not too bad. Maybe I'll take up needlepoint or baking. Either one will be perfect practice for when I become a cat lady. I mean, when I'm rich, famous, successful and living in a mansion overlooking the ocean while sending my security team to take care of the papparazzi hiding behind my guest house. It will literally be a house. Not a one room thing.

What's Souplantation without any spoons?

So a few years ago, I started a game with my college roommate, Polly. It was called "Let's see what cutlery we can steal from Cheesecake Factory." It was more of a competition than a necessity. When we explained it to friends, some people would look at us with concern in their eyes, and offer us their extra silverware, if we were really that hard up. They just didn't get it. It was for funsies. I was really bored, too. Sometimes, the game would expand to the dining hall, mainly with fruit.. The next year, I let my roommates in on the game, only to discover that my new roommate, Maggie, was already an avid restaurant thief. We combined our talents and got some great silverware that year, my pride and joy being that huge steak knife from Outback. I never saw this as wrong, per say. I mean, I knew waiters would probably look down at it, maybe even stop us if they saw it going on, but for the most part, it was silverware. They probably lose more in the trash then they do with people stealing it. Plus, I have a thing against chain restaurants. They have millions of locations across the world, and a lot of sexual harassment or unfair work environment lawsuits to look after, so I doubt that they were ever concerned about the loss of forks from their Irvine chain.
I highly encourage this game to you out there, just don't get caught. Because it would be the stupidest thing to get caught stealing. Seriously.

I have since ceased my game, mainly because my mom would probably question why we have mismatched silverware in our drawers, and also because I don't go out to eat a lot anymore, and when I do, it's a local place. I draw the line at local establishments. Plus, my wonderful little sister told my parents about it, and it was like I robbed a bank. They were horrified by it, and my dad said I was a sociopath because I didn't feel any remorse. From stealing silverware. Because that's where sociopaths start. With forks. If I had killed someone, maybe I'd agree with him, but I did not.

But where's the line drawn? Was it wrong for me to give my friends free drinks when they would visit me at work? Or save my ice tea cups so I only have to pay .65 cents instead of 2.35 when I go to the bean? Or take the stupid dress code poster on my last day? I think not. I'd like to think that I have a good moral code when it comes to other things. I'm like the wimpy version of Robin Hood. But I think on a list of travesties, mine would not even be on there. I'm not just saying that to make myself feel better, it's true. I mean, people steal dogs just so they can collect the reward. That's pretty low. Or those scammers that targeted the families of 9/11 victims? REALLY? I know that was a long jump from abducting pets, it still pisses me off. I always measure my wrongdoings by how guilty I feel. That wouldn't fly with a priest, but I think it's a good rule of thumb. If you feel guilty, you're probably doing something bad.  Unless you're a sociopath, of course.