Tales from La La Land

As much as I have wanted to bury that piece of poop that I called a vlog (yes, Lamb, I know I completely underachieved on that), I haven’t had much time to catch my breath this week.

And suddenly it is Friday.

So, a brief update.

I started training for the another half marathon that will be in April. I’m not nearly as motivated as I was the first time around. It mostly has to do with the time commitment. I am not in shape enough to skip days and still be able to show up and run 13 miles one day. But, I got back on the horse this week, and after the first three days of running, it is starting to feel like part of my daily routine again. So, that’s good.

I ordered our wedding invitations. I am fucking paranoid that there will be a mispelling or some kind of huge error. In other wedding-related news, I seem to have a problem with my FMIL’s address. Both her save-the-date and shower invitation were returned to me because I had the wrong address. I’m pretty sure that of ALL the people to fuck up an address for, your future in-laws should not be on that list. I think I have fixed the problem and am hopeful the wedding invitation makes it.

Laef is out of town this weekend so I’m heading to San Diego to celebrate Ben’s birthday.

Speaking of Laef. He had a giant beard, which turned into a giant mustache. Photos coming your way when he returns from the trip. Can’t wait to make out and try to have sexy times. There’s no way I won’t laugh.

Oh, and while we’re on the topic of hotties. This is the story of The Sanch’s life:

Dingleberry’s and porn staches. That’s what I’ve been up to.

TGIF!

Laef and I did about 16 takes of a vlog idea we had. We both hated the way we looked. And, it’s kind of scary to put yourself out there. I was hoping to vlog prior to the Oscar Live blog, but it didn’t work out.

However, I spent all day yesterday learning how to upload videos from camera to YouTube and such, so I felt compelled to put something up.

Which means, The Sanch gets the first debut on the blog. As you can see, he stepped way the fuck up. Not. Laef says it’s super boring. I don’t care, we were posting a video today.

One last note regarding the Oscars: My mom emailed me saying: “Who is this Heath guy and how did he die? And, why do you hate Miley? She is cool!”

I am trying to put onto the blog what I thought when I read it. But, the reality is that my brain went numb. It’s along the lines of Laef seeing a clip of Bawbwa Walters’ interview with Anne Hathaway and saying, “Awwwww….what happened? Did she get her little heart broken?”

Check out all of the red carpet dish from my live-blog over at The Cooler on Sunday.

It was a lot of fun and a big thanks to everyone who joined in. The comments were hilarious and it was fun to have all the interaction.

Let’s be honest. One of my all-time favorite movies is Secretary so I don’t hold much street cred in the movie department.

But, I am overly excited that I will be live blogging over at The Cooler this Sunday. While I may not be half (OK, 1/8) the movie buff that my good friend Jason Bellamy is, I have read enough Perez Hilton, TMZ and US Weekly to qualify for writing about the good stuff – the red carpet pre-show.

Beginning at 6 p.m./3 p.m. PST I’ll be drunk live blogging about the sites (possible Aniston-Pitt encounter) and sounds (Mickey Rourke, anyone?) of E! TV’s red carpet deliciousness. I hope you all will pop over so we can dish and gossip and gaggle at all of the beautiful people.

There are sure to be some awkward moments, questionable fashion choices and long pauses after questions that are deemed too personal. So, I am really looking forward to it, and also writing down my thoughts.

Last night, I was getting very excited and a million thoughts were racing through my mind. I jotted down a bunch of notes about different actors/actresses, movie experiences and things I hope to touch on.

Then I got this super great idea and I ran it by Laef.

Me: “What if I got all dressed up, put on tons of makeup, did my hair and wore that black booby dress. Then, we could dress you up like a douchey actor and we could act out a red carpet interview!!!”
Laef: BLANK AS FUCK STARE
Me: “I have been wanting to vlog for like two months. This is the perfect vlog opportunity.”
Laef: “What is a vlog?”
Me: “A video blog!!!”
Laef: “What’s your other idea?”

Sure, there are some logistical problems. If both Laef and I are IN the vlog, who will record it? I am working with The Sanch to see if he will learn the on/off button if given wet food.

Also, this requires me to shower and put on makeup on a Sunday. That hasn’t happened in …. ever.

Check back Sunday to see if we pulled it off!

TGIF

I can not believe it is Thursday already. Another thing to love about long weekends: short weeks.

However, short weeks mean cramming five days of work into four days. I have barely been able to keep my head above water this week (seriously, it has been raining like a mutherfucker) and am already looking forward to the weekend.

We can’t really slack off on the weekend’s anymore as we have this wedding thing coming up, which feels like it will be happening tomorrow. Can someone please tell me what happened to the months of January and February? We’re making progress and things seem to becoming together. I am a little bitter that my department is hosting a week-long meeting with 85 attendees in March. This means that I have been reserving banquet rooms, planning menus, arranging a dinner reception and making registration packets. I suppose it is good practice for my own personal event planning, but UCLAs budget is quite different than ours.

Anyblackedout, (yes, it’s been that kind of a week), Laef and I got home last night at around 8 p.m. just in time to watch American Idol and give The Sanch some kibble before he gnawed off one of his paws. We always pretty much smother him with kisses and scratches when we first get home (which he gives two fucks about because he is starving), and yesterday I noticed he had yellow shit all over his eye. He looked like he got punched with a highlighter.

It wouldn’t come off, prompting Laef to plead for us to finally give him a bath, which I quickly shot down in an effort to avoid huge gashes on my arms. I told The Sanch to lick his paw 800 times and rub his head until it came off. He laid down and too a nap instead. It should come as no surprise that he is pushing 3 bills.

We had no idea what the fuck he got into, but decided to watch Tatiana and her new Xanax/Heroin personality get kicked off American Idol. Sidenotes: Is she trying to speak with an accent now? And, is there a better representation of the people who should be wearing Paula’s jewlery?

At some point, Laef went to the kitchen and brushed up against the pretty flowers he got me for Valentine’s Day. And when he did, he noticed something on his hand (yes, he reenacted it to take a picture):

And it all came together, The Sanch was on the counter doing god knows what, rubbing his dingleberry ass all over the place, doing shit he is not supposed to do.

So Laef decided that the cat needed to be shot 100 times with the squirt bottle. Which has only led to The Sanch’s binge eating because he was pretty much like, “What the fuck? When did laying on the carpet minding my own business lead to be being squirt-bottled?” He was confused as fuck.

Laef thinks if he shows him the flowers and squirts him, he will put two and two together.

At which point I stopped talking.

P.S. Apparently UCLA athletic trainers participate in Mustache March. So, be on the lookout for blogs about Laef and his sick stache.

We are midway through what has been the best three-day Valentine’s weekend ever.

No, we didn’t exchange gifts of diamonds or fancy trips, but we were in an unfamiliar place nonetheless. A place of total and utter relaxation for three days. Lately, it seems one day of no responsibilities is hard to come by, so the past three days have been nothing short of heavenly.

On Friday, we were supposed to go to the movies. We never made it. Instead, we rented three movies at Blockbuster, bought insane amounts of candy and began our Valentine fort sesh.

The Sanch was front and center and desperately wanted a part of it all – the candy, the popcorn and the scary movies.

I will get a flavored Lemon Head before I die.

I will have popcorn before I die.

After one million times of being yelled at and several squirts from the water bottle, he finally bought into laying the fuck down and chilling out.

Fine. I will watch Friday the 13th Part VII.

On Saturday morning, I was wide awake at 8 a.m. I wish I could feel that awake during the week. Since we didn’t make it to the movies on Friday, the plan was to get there sometime Saturday.

My favorite thing to do when I have free time is cook. So, I spent most of Saturday in the kitchen making yummy recipes from the fabulous Williams-Sonoma bride and groom cookbook that Annett and Ben gave us. We had French Onion soup, oven-baked fried chicken, mashed potatoes and grilled artichokes for dinner. It was comfort food at its best, complete with lots of butter, lots of cream and a bottle of Veuve champagne for a V-Day toast (this was a Christmas gift to Laef from one of the UCLA doctors. If you think I would spend more than $4 on a bottle of Cook’s you are crazy).

Unfortunately for Laef, Valentine’s Day ended at about 8 p.m. for me. After cooking all day (and drinking wine/champagne while doing it), I was more than happy to let him play video games and rest my eyes for 12 hours.

I’m sure this sounds un-romantic to people, but I am happiest when doing hobbies I like while Laef is doing hobbies he likes. But with us both under the same roof. Oh, and I like when Sanch is there too, running around trying to get rid of his dingleberry’s that plague him day in and day out. Yes, everyone, Valentine’s Day is all about dingleberry’s and WoW. Total bliss.

Anyway, all of the cooking took its toll on our kitchen plumbing system and so things got even more romantic when we had water all over the floor on Sunday. Our landlord sent over her 85-year-old father to fix it. There’s nothing like an old man in knee pads in your kitchen to spice things up!

We decided to drag ourselves off the fort and out for a walk to burn a few calories. We had been doing nothing but eating and being horizontal for 48 hours so in an effort to prevent bed sores, we headed out for a four-mile walk. The exercise also motivated us to finally see the movie. Except when we got home (and finally got warm), we had an hour to kill before the movie started. Which essentially led to not getting back up again.

So, here it is Monday. Day three of horizontal living. We are really going to try and see this movie today. But the bed is still in the living room and looking damn good.

Apparently, people do buy Valentine’s Day balloons. I revisited Ralph’s yesterday and was actually curious to see if its supply of balloons had dwindled. Turns out the guy in front of me was buying not one, but two GIANT Valentine’s Day balloons. Yes, I am the crazy who took a picture with my phone. Don’t worry, I was very nonchalant about it.

So I was wrong. There are people out there who love the spirit of Valentine’s Day. Like my friend Sarah’s husband, Dave. I got a call from Sarah yesterday while I was at work. She was giddy beyond belief because Dave had woken her up at 5 a.m., blindfolded her and taken her to the airport. They had a layover in San Francisco, where he had reserved a spot for them in some special lounge that was equipped with all-you-can-drink mimosas and bloody mary’s.

She called after a few drinks and after realizing that they were about to board a plane for New York for six days. For Valentine’s Day. What. The. Fuck? Well done, Dave. Well done.

As for our plans. First of all, I have Monday off. Which I am pretty sure makes me almost as excited as Sarah is right now. We are seeing Friday the 13th tonight. Then we are getting super crazy and wild and moving our mattress into the living room for three days. It’s basically like reverting to five year old behavior and building a fort. Then we can eat breakfast in bed while watching Little People Big World marathons.

Lamb, if you make one comment, I will PYITF.

TGIF.

This morning I woke up horrified with myself.

Me: “Hey, um. I had a dream that Brittany kept showing you her boobies.”
Laef: “What did they look like?”
Me: “I don’t know. I was mad, left in the car, but realized I was in Ohio and didn’t know how to get anywhere.”
Laef: “I had a dream about Bill Clinton. He knew my name. I was so stoked.”
Me: “Hmmm. Something is not right here.”
Laef: “I would have preferred your dream. We should sleep touching heads tonight and see if we can trade dreams.”

Yeah, because clearly everything is ass backwards around here. I should be dreaming about hot ex-Presidents. NOT Brittany’s boobies.

That’s what the blog world will do to you though. It plays with your mind. These people are in your head all day long, sharing deep personal stories about everything from peeing their pants to boiling diapers to crazy nights with their future husbands.

Anywasted, thank god I dreamt about Brittany and not Lamb. Because Lamb probably would have been sitting ON Laef while showing him her new pregnant boobies.

The good news about my unamazing OBGYN appointment yesterday is that I got to leave work early. The bad news is, well, the whole stirrups thing, and the fact that my appointment was at 4 p.m. and I finally saddled up at 4:45 p.m.

But there was more to this appointment. I have become engaged since my last appointment and I’m also approaching my 35th birthday, which seemed to lead the doctor to press me on my future plans. She gave me the whole, “Sooooooooo, how long have you been on the pill? Are you thinking of having babies? Soon?”

Our plan was to enjoy one year of marriage together before trying. Which is basically code for, just one more year of being totally selfish and doing whatever we want whenever we want. One more year of beach living and mimosas at noon on Saturday. But, other than that, there is no rhyme or reason to our plan.

So anyway, she suggested that I stop taking the pill in November because it might take a while. And if we are so lucky to get pregnant right away, then, “Yay, us!” is basically what she alluded to.

Which made me kind of excited. And totally freaked out. Like, stop taking the pill? THIS year?

The timing actually seems perfect because I realized last Friday that it is time to retire from certain behavior. It was raining that day so I put zero effort into my outfit. I wore my running shoes, jeans and a ski jacket to work. I was wayyyyy behind on laundry, so my only sock option was my brand new Christmas socks with a little pocket for…actually, I don’t know what the pocket is supposed to hold.

Annett came up from San Diego that night and we decided to go out to dinner. By the time I got home, we were starving so I didn’t bother to change. Well, after dinner, we figured we should grab a drink over at Beaches.

OK, I had not realized that Beaches was voted “Best Dance Club”. The music was certainly blasting and the florescent lights did me no favors. It was obvious I forgot my dancing outfit. My shoes were glowing from here to Oregon. I guess it kept me safe from getting hit by a random dancer.

As time went on and we drank more, we kind of started to get into the music. Suddenly, I had forgotten that my outfit consisted of these socks:

I certainly did not fit in because as I glanced around, I saw all sorts of skinny jeans, knee-high boots, low-cut shirts and sparkly lipstick. Then it just sort of hit me: I do like getting dressed up once in a while. I love girls night out. But, if I had to pull it together EVERY SINGLE weekend, I would be exhausted.

Soooooo….maybe I am ready to ditch the pill and be exhausted for reasons that don’t involve raging hangovers.

My sources tell me that McFrosty has descended on Eugene.

Message No. 1 (via Facebook): February 2nd, 4:19 p.m.
Smitten Kitten #1:“New coach sighting. I’m not saying he’s a Dave Heeke, but he sure is going to brighten my day!!”

For reference – Dave Heeke:

Message No. 2 (via Facebook): February 2nd, 4:34 p.m.
Smitten Kitten #1:“I’d be able to better assess the Heeke-ness of the new guy if his wardrobe consisted of something other than baggy jeans and untucked shirts. But I’m not ready to kick him out of the office.”

Message No. 3 (via Gmail): February 3rd, 2:10 p.m.
Subject: He’s Here
Smitten Kitten #2:“McCute”

Message No. 4 (via Gmail): February 5, 10:54 a.m.
Subject: 411
Smitten Kitten #3: “Confirming McFrosty is hot in person. Definitely in shape.”

After yesterday’s email exchange with Smitten Kitten (SK) #3, I sent out an APB to the UO PR guy, who is not as cute as McFrosty, and definitely bitter about it.

Me: “I need a Q&A with McF STAT”
Bitter Kitten #1: “You’re twisted.”
Me: “Um. It’s for my readers.”
Bitter Kitten #2: “Well, I haven’t even met him yet. When I do, I will determine his blog-worthiness.”
Me: “Well, I’ve got three sources already confirmed that it’s blog-worthy.”
Bitter Kitten #2: “Pigs.”

So I may have to attempt to get this Q&A all on my own, but I’m having anxiety. I mean, really, do I email him?

Dear Coach McFrosty,
You may not know this, but I used to work at Oregon when the coaches were old and bald, and I noticed that you got hired, and I have this blog, and I told all seven of my readers (many of which are married or pregnant or male) that I wanted to find a nickname for you and we haven’t really settled on one yet, but Lamb’s McLikeMyJohnson is the front-runner. So, anyway, despite the fact that you are busy teaching Oregon receivers how to catch, I am wondering if you could answer a few questions that I could post on my blog?”

Best Regards,
McLooney

P.S. I know some of you don’t see it. But, we need to refrain from saying how ugly he is because he pretty much looks EXACTLY like my own little McHotty. But, I’ve whored out McHotty far too much on the blog. He needs a break.

XO!

TGIF