Is the Gym That-a-Way?

I apologize for the lag in blog time- sister has been busy and has not been feelin’ well. However, as it is Friday, I dare not disappoint. Thankfully, my new gym provides amazing content. Here we go…

If you know me at all you know I am about three steps away from pitching a tent so I can be closer to the gym. I am one of those weirdos who actually enjoys going to the gym. In fact, I get seriously cranky when I don’t go.

Cranky: See picking fights with the bf for no reason; see also unnecessarily complaining about being fat. [This is after ONE day people. I have no clue how babe puts up with me]

For the past year or so I have gone to a gym that is very close to my apartment. Its large, has free parking, a pool and sauna, lots of room and great group classes. [I’m a spinning MACHINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] So, when my gym CLOSED FOR FIVE MONTHS for renovations- you can guess my reaction.

Despair 

Denial

Anger

WHAT THE…

Yeah- it was bad. Thankfully I found a new gym that is even closer to my apartment that actually costs less. This is great… but it comes with a price. The new gym, that I shall not name, is a bit...dirty. The people are…eclectic. I am all for a big ass melting pot of people, but at the gym this type of mix can get dicey.(I will save the dirty gym blog for another time). Although the gym is dirty, it provides all that I need to exercise and more. My gym provides ENTERTAINMENT! Allow me to explain.

Gym preview: The gym opens at five to a looooooooong line of, I kid you not, senior citizens. Those toothless mamma-jamma's cannot wait to get into the gym. The anticipation… and the doors open…and they rush in…

to sit on the stationary bike pedaling at .1 miles an hour.

Someone please explain this to me. I told this to the bf the other day: I just don’t get it, but I guess when I get old I will go to the gym and walk or something so that I can work out my joints.  Response, "Babe, let’s not talk about the days when we will have janky joints. I know you are a planner, but come on." Point babe.

Once inside the gym, things look ‘aaight. There are plenty of machines, a pool, a running track and group classrooms. I get there around 5:10 in the morning [I told you, I’m insane] and my favorite thing to do is look for When. Not at typo- the dudes name is When. EVERY SINGLE DAY When wears: a Hawaiian shirt, neon sweat pants, mismatching socks and tie-dye crocs. Who the hell would by a tie-dye crock?!?!?  Not only does he look insanely amusing, but he is one of those people that never uses the machines the way they were intended to be used: the leg press is to be used with your hands, the pull up bar is to hang from your knees and benches in the weight room are for lounging. The guy is like a human fruit bat.

The thing that I actually like about the gym is that there are very few women there. Yeah, yeah yeah, not for the reasons you think. Most of the men there are middle aged and in incredible shape, like my dad. (yay dad!) I like to watch what they do with free weights sometimes to get ideas, (I hate my arms)... Ok that’s true- but the reeeeaalll reason I like the men is to hear their conversations.

[ACTUAL CONVERSATIONS- NO, SERIOUSLY.]

“Hey Jon- did you remember to bring your gloves today?”

“Oh shit I forgot them- check up your ass!!”

“I told Nancy we should never have girls. This jackass came over and wanted to take Sarah out. His pants were so low I went into the closet and got him a belt of mine. Sarah was pissed, but I don’t give a F***. My daughter isn’t dating a douche who shows his ass crack.”

“Hey Sam, how’s the Rogaine going? Hahahahaha”

“Shut up- who cares that I use Rogaine? That shit works. It’s like the commercial- I use it and get ass every time.”

If anyone reading has ever needed inspiration for a script or if you just want to be entertained, come to my gym. Come early and we can wait outside with all of the Q-tips.[old people with white hair. te-hehe] When the gym opens we can go visit When, and  then be entertained by a sea of middle aged men!

Aside from it being entertaining, have I mentioned I’ve lost five pounds since going to the new gym? Yeah, laughing your ass off. heh heh. 

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND! 

Block PartAy

I had every intention of posting a blog this weekend, for your reading pleasure, but my weekend got in the way. I woke up Saturday morning convinced that I had been hit by a truck. I officially diagnosed myself with a swollen head as a result of an already large brain colliding with a semi. Unfortunately, my diagnosis was incorrect. The truck scenario really was the result of a block party. Yes, you heard correctly, a block party.

My block is diverse, to say the least. (See blog post below) As you know, I LOVE my block. I love the people, the neighborhood and the… um, the “experiences.” Friday after washing my car I took Dot for a walk. Low and behold a large group had formed in the neighboring complex. PARTAY!!! I walked with neighbor Mark to Vonns in order to buy supplies- booze, charcoal etc. We grilled cheeseburgers, drank wine and listened to the hilarious ranting and raving of our neighborhood drunk.

I don’t remember why, but at some point my friend Brian brought up his cooking blog. Oh em gee I have a blog too! Its really funny (I hope) –  yall should read it! Not more than two seconds later, Brian comes back with his guitar and his computer.

“Taylor this blog is really good! This is one is really funny- the stoner, the drunk… wait a minute. You didn’t write this about us did you?”

MOTHER. OF. GOD.

I knew that this was going to happen, but I wasn’t prepared to address the masses. “Um, no, of course not. I’ve lived a lot of places and met a ton of people. I just thought this was funny- you know every block has a stoner and a drunk!” I always have nightmares that someone is going to break into my apartment. If I disappear soon- you know who it was. The drunk and or the stoner.

The problem is that, sure, some of the descriptions were a bit crass but they were FUNNY! I wrote them to make people laugh, not to provide some sort of bitchy rant about the people I encounter and their flaws. Thankfully I was able to divert their attention to other posts yes, I really do want a pogo stick. No I’m not too big for it...jackass.

A cheeseburger, and a BOTTLE of wine later, it was probably time to throw in the towel. Of course I didn’t go home- have we met? Anywho- Brian and Todd had their guitars. It was time to do some jamming.

Editors Note: I LOVE to sing- I sing in the car, I sing in the shower, I sing in my living room etc. I shoulda been on American Idol yall… BUT I hate singing in front of others. I had no problem with it in High School and College- when I was actively in choir and practicing my craft (tehehe my craft), but I am pretty sure I am rusty. Well, apparently Charles Shaw disagrees with me. Charles told me to suggest song #41 (Dave Mathews- uh-mazing). You know what… I wasn’t that bad!!!

Wasn’t that bad: See: bottle of wine consumption; see also: I’m the shit yall.

All in all it was a fabulous night. I really love that I can hang out unplanned with all of my neighbors. I mean the age range between us is from 19-60. How awesome is that? After about an hour of singing, and moooooooore drinking it  was time to throw in the towel.  As I started to leave, my friend the drunk followed me and said:

“I really am a fan of the blog, and you in general. I have a suggestion- why don’t you add to the list of characters the bitch who thinks she can sing…” (wink wink).

Well played sir, well played. Although it was said in jest I think the old man’s still got it. Until next time… 

My Cheap Ass Genie

Sometimes I can’t sleep at night. Ok- well most times I can’t sleep at night. I stay awake obsessing about my student loans, stressing about my lack of a post-grad job and fretting about whether or not the bf is going to like living in LA. Also, I share my bed with a tiny bed-hogging COW, so that creates problems as well.

Therefore at night I day dream- night dream? - about what would happen if I had three wishes. Don't judge- you know you have thought about it too... Oddly enough, my wishes are always the same. First, I would like to become fluent in Spanish. I currently speak “white people Spanish,” which works, but it’s not ideal. Second, I would like to have a better body. Yeah yeah yeah every girl wants this, I know. However I bust my ASS daily (waking up at 445 am and going to the gym SIX days a week), and I still am not happy with the ‘ole bod. I think I could dig on Brooke Burke’s body, minus the big boobs- all you need is a handful right? (sorry dad)

So- speakin’ the Spanish with my bangin new bod, I would wish for…. ONE MILLION DOLLARS. For some reason in my dream the genie is a cheap ass and won’t let me have more than one mil. Something about the IRS, taxes, losing his lamp privileges. Who knows. I realize that 1 million bucks really isnt’t that much money… but I can’t change my dreams people!  Anywho- I want a mil. The first thing I would do is pay off my credit card debt and student loans. I can FEEL my credit score getting higher. WEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!! But then what? I mean sure, I would go buy an unnecessarily expensive purse and probably take a vacation, but then what?

               

Unnecessarily expensive purse: See Marc Jacobs, Louis Vuitton or Prada; See also Fendi, Miu Miu or Chanel.

That’s it. The dream always ends there. I have the bod, the Spanish and no loans- but I never spend the rest of the money. Clearly my dream self and my real self have not met. In real life, I honestly would pay off my debt and put the rest in savings and or investments, and spend a little but my dream self would SPEND ‘DAT MONEY!!! (sorry dad)

Today in class at home, I pondered what I would buy.  I am VERY TYPE A (shocking right) and my days are pretty regimented. Up at 445, gym until 645, work and or class from 830-5, homework/tv and cooking/boozing until 930or 10. Rinse, lather, repeat. (Shit I’m boring- I promise my weekends are waaaaaaay more fun). I really don’t shop very often. Truth be told, the bulk of my money is spent on food/drink out with friends. 1 million bucks of food and drink? NOT A GOOD LOOK. (oink) maybe I could go on that show Heavy afterward- that might be cool! NOT.  

Random thoughts-

 Maybe I can give some to the bf and he can guy another gun or something? HELL NO- I promise, if you knew how many guns he had you would agree with me here. Also, guns = dead animals that he will want to hang on my walls. Oh no he didn’t. 

Maybe I could buy a bigger house? Earth to Taylor- you don’t even have a job yet. Lets not put down roots when you may have to ditch all of your shit for a neon shopping cart. Ya dig?

I could donate some of it? Yeah sure, donate it. Just make sure that you stop by and visit all of the dogs (I would FOR SURE give to the SPCA) while you are wandering around town with your shopping cart. 

What about clothes? You will need clothes with your new body! True- a few items of clothing would be fabulous. Make sure that you buy a few suits in the extremely unlikely event you get a job. Also make sure you have warm clothing, layers etc. See neon shopping cart.

So there you have it- I got nothing. I don’t need a new car, I won’t have any debt in my dream, I sure as hell don’t/won’t have kids to take care of thank you Ortho Tri-Cyclen (sorry dad).  There are only three things that I am FOR SURE going to buy:

1. laker tickets (Meeting Jack Nicholson is on my bucket list- and I LOVE me some lake show)

2.  a golf cart (I have no reason for this, I just want one)

3. a pogo stick ( I seriously loved that thing)

Any ideas on how I should spend the rest of the monies?!

Urban Dictionary a la Taylor

One of my favorite things to do at work at home is to visit Urbandictionary.com. If you have never been, do it. NOW. No seriously. I’ll wait. 

[insert hold music]

……….

It’s great right? I mean come on, their word for the day is: Sympathy Seeker.

Sympathy Seeker: A person whose status updates on facebook are solely for the purpose of gaining sympathy. Johnny is such the sympathy seeker that he would go on Facebook to say that his Pet-Rock died if it would get him sympathy.

How lame! You know who you are…

You can even urban dictionary your city!

Los Angeles (my hood): A massive tangle of highways and roads, also rumored to contain people and houses. I spent all weekend in a traffic jam in Los Angeles.

Calabasas (my office): Stuck up, bitchy, horny, "straight but willing to experiment", rich, slut princesses (with the exception of the minority of genuine people) and many of the guys are self centered egotistical testosterone filled jackasses with their heads shoved  up their asses. "What school do you go to?" "Calabasas" ::disgusted looks::

(If you have ever been to Calabasas you are probably dying with laughter- this definition is oh so true.)

So there you have it. Confused about a word? Check it out on Urban Dictionary. While thinking of what to post next, I realized that I should have my own Urban Dictionary. I need a manual for Taylorisms, as it were. If you know me, I am sure that you agree. Taylor speak is sometimes difficult to decipher. (Imagine the confusion when I am drunk…te hehe).I’m not really sure the origin of most of my words. My mother had a knack for interesting vocabulary and grammar; I’m sure it is a product of that. For example: Target = targe boutique, Taco bell= T.Hell etc. Oh Jill, you are such a character. Moving on.

I present to you... Taylor’s Urban Dictionary:

Ratly: dirty, funky and generally unkempt. Think gnarly, but a twinge more negative. Did you see those kids at the skate park? They were totally ratly. (sentence probably spoken holding a joint…)

Strumpet: female who is currently irritating you. A fleeting term, it’s more of a rotating adjective rather than a character description. Did you talk to her? Yeah, the strumpet finally texted me back last night.

Bomb: cool, awesome, rad. Think early nineties. For the older cats, this is no way affiliated with an explosive. (Wait you think your blog is going to explode? Nope.) You have to check out this website, its bomb.

Troll: descriptive adjective, can be used negatively or ambiguously. This has nothing to do with hiding under a bridge or with those dolls with the cute little gem in their belly buttons. Look at that troll, what is she doing?

Jank: whether used as a verb or adjective, something’s off. Think ghetto- like when you see someone with a duct taped bumper. I got drunk and lost my key, I had to jank my way in. OR Did you see her hair extensions? Sister’s hair looked jank!

Slore: a mix between a slut and a whore, (sorry dad). The mix lessens the blow, lowering it from a cuss word. Listen slore, get your hands off me.

Ass Clown: basically a general description. You can be drunk or a normal functioning individual. This word runs the gamut. Honestly, its just fun to say. My boss is such an ass clown. (te hehe!)

You can use these words in everyday life, and I encourage you to do so! Seriously:

Mom, stop being a ratly troll.

I had to leave, I was acting like an ass clown.

Yeah, I tried to hit on her. She turned out to be a total strumpet.

Dude it was horrible, I had to jank my way out of the bathroom through the window.

So there you have it! I am sure I will add many more posts as time goes on with new material. Don’t you worry, I will have all of you participating in my slang world of Taylorisms in no time.

Seriously slores, don’t act like a ratly strumpets. Follow this troll’s bomb blog or else I will come jank you. Love, Ass Clown.

Put a Ring on it. Kind of.

Before my family goes insane, I am not talking about weddings here. I realized that all my posts have been somewhat sarcastic (shocking!) and story-like. I’ve decided I should have a few posts about things I love and things that inspire me mixed into my ranting and raving. So, here we go.

I LOVE JEWELRY. My friends find this odd because I don’t wear a lot of it. The reason? Sister can’t afford it. Champagne taste, beer budget anyone? I would rather save my money for one nice piece rather than buying a whole lotta crap. One of my favorite things to do in the morning is drink coffee and sift through the overwhelming amount of shopping related e-mails I receive every night. Gilt Groupe, Shop it to me, Nordstrom and Urban Outfitters are my favorites. If you don’t subscribe to Gilt you really should- the amount of material they provide for procrastination’s sake is amazing. (Don’t worry dad,  I don’t buy anything…)

This morning at work at home while I was perusing, I came across some AMAZING right finger rings. I don’t wear anything on my left hand; I expect those fingers to be empty for a loooooooooooooooong time. (I gots to gets me a real job before I gets me a husband, ya dig?) Below are some of my favorites. 

!!!!!!! Aren't they great?! I realize they are all a little  "Miami meets Kanye West," but I think they are FABULOUS. Now I just need find 3K to buy one... Happy Thursday!

The Fabric of LA

There have been those who have questioned my deep obsessive love for the city of Los Angeles. I recently learned that according the U.S Census, there are 9,818,605 MILLION people in LA as of 2010. Seriously- I feel like 1,000 of those people live on my block. When I first moved in I was astonished at how many people they cram into each street. "Hey you! See this shoebox? You can rent it for the cheap price of $900 a month!! It even comes with a sink and a toilet!!! Oooooooooohhhhh aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!" Yeah, not so much.

Anyway, I found that although it’s crowded- I LOVE IT! Despite the sea of independent individuals, there are a few types that I notice can always be found in any given neighborhood. Its like the city planner has a list of these people- “New block off of Federal? We need a drunk, a dog walker and a foreigner, STAT!” In an effort to give you a better idea of these people- I give you the people that make up LA:

The Ex-Actor

                NOTE: if a person in LA has been involved in any part of a film- they consider themselves an actor. Seriously. The dog shit picker upper that worked on the set of the second Chihuahua movie that went straight to DVD? AN ACTOR I SAY! These individuals are really the founding fathers for all of the categories that follow (minus the Asians- being a failing actor probably doesn’t change your ethnicity… right?) Actors and Actresses come out West for thousands of reasons. After all, LA is the land of DREAMS! of PROMISE! of HUGE SALARIES! …of congregations of homeless people who fight over their shopping carts. [NOTE: I am giggling while I write this, but I really shouldn’t. The bf and I end our nightly prayers asking God to please make sure we don’t join the shopping cart all-stars. However, I do have my eye on this bad ass neon cart in case things go south…]

                Usually the ex-actress gets married after she gives up her dream, but for the actors life is not so easy. The ex-actor is, by definition, a loner. These guys have seen it all- and they want you to know it. They spend hours sitting on their balconies, hoping someone walks by so they can share their experiences. (Actually , they usually chill on the step in front of their door- balconies are expensive. Know what I’m sayin’?!) They have amazing tales of shooting in Arizona (head shots taken in the valley), meeting Robert De Niro for lunch (seeing ‘ole Rob as he biked on the street across from the Palm), and schmoozing with directors (working as a waiter at their cocktail parties). Never the less, they are really the fathers of the block. “Come ye and I shall impart my wisdom!” Moral of the story- if you are bored at home, grab yourself a roadie and find your closest ex-actor.

The Dog-Walker

                The dog walker is arguably the most important person on the block. If you live in LA, you are bound to have a dog walker in your neighborhood. If the ex-actor is the father of the block, the dog walkers are the fairy god-people. In my house, if Dot ‘aint happy, nobody’s happy. Luckily for me, mine is a saint. She loves Dot and Dot loves her.  I can text mine at any time of the day during any day of the week and she comes to my rescue.

Text anytime: See one-eyed text sent during a boozy afternoon in Venice with the bf:  Hey Nancy, I’m tooo2o2o drunk to come back and I dont wannaaaaaa to call a cab, can you take out muffin? Reply: Of course! Have fun! [thank god she understands drunk law students]

You SOOOOOOOO can’t do that with a kid. [Another reason I plan on sticking with dogs.] If this behavior sounds odd to you, it shouldn’t.  I’m definitely not alone. 90% of residences in my zip code are apartments. Therefore we got a whole lotta dog without a whole lotta yard.  At any given moment, there may be six dogs fighting to leave their mark on one single patch of grass. I don’t know about y’all, but mama is in no mood to hang out while her dog engages in a pissing war. Many of my fellow furry friend owners agree. Value your free time? Want to be able to hang out drink too much on a Saturday? Find the fairy god mother on your block. A word of caution- do not piss her off, no one wants to come home to a pile of shit in their shoe. Just sayin’.

The Drunk

                Doesn’t everyone fall into this category? Yes- at some point in time we all get drunk, but we are (hopefully) not the drunk. The drunk may be the dog walker, or the ex- actor. As a rule- drunks are never seen going to work. They don’t have jobs, but somehow they pay the rent. [If you are the neighborhood drunk and you are reading this, please email me the secret. Kthanks] My neighborhood drunk is incredible. He wakes up at noon and spends the rest of the day hanging out in the courtyard of his apartment- our neighborhood dog hangout- giving people advice. He has lived here for over two decades and can tell you about every tree on the block, and every person that lives on our street. At first I found this incredibly creepy- how do you know that Sarah lives at 1526 in apartment B? Now I’ve just accepted it as some sort of strange 6^th sense.

                As a rule, you want to be friends with the neighborhood drunk. Not because he will give you alcohol, but because he will talk smack about you to the rest of the block if he doesn’t like you. It sounds childish, but if he doesn’t like me, the dog walker (his neighbor) won’t like me. See shit in my shoe. If you are interested in the history of your block, or are nosey and want to know about your neighbors, go visit your neighborhood drunk. Believe me, if you just moved and want to be well received, you want this guy in your corner.

The Stoner

                I know what you are thinking, “They have these in every city.” Yes they do. BUUUUUUT the LA stoner is not so much a type of person, but rather a thread that connects almost every person. Its kind of like a way of life here, and let me tell you I am not opposed. Sorry dad. We have quite a few stoners on the block, but one that I have crowned The stoner. If I am ever having a bad day- I pray I run into the stoner. Nothing is better than listening to some Jimi Hendrix or some Steeley Dan with this guy. Duuuuuuuudddeeee listen to the guitar. It’s sooooooo mellow…like a mushroom…that’s growing the size of a tree.

Um, right. Just go with it. Even if I’m not feelin’ it, how can that type of cosmic description NOT make you feel better? I’m a big fan of the distraction, and this joker definitely provides one. The greatest thing about my stoner, and probably most of them, is that he is also a flaming liberal. This makes me giddy with excitement. You think liberals don’t make sense sober?   There is NOTHING like arguing with a high democrat. Law school be damned, I’ve perfected the art of the oral argument with my stoner.  I bet Sallie Mae is happy I didn’t find him six semesters ago. Sigh…

The Asian 

[Disclaimer- I love Asians. No disrespect y'all] 

                DO.NOT.DRIVE. around this person. Ok wait, that’s not fair. Do not drive around an oooooollldddeerrr Asian. [most]California Asians can drive, which is a great thing considering there are more Asians than white people in LA. That also might be the reason that there are 11, ELEVEN, sushi restaurants within three blocks of my apartment. [insert: joy, cymbal clanging, religious dancing] Anyway, every block will have its share of Asians. The first thing to know- the Asian is much much smarter than you.  This is for sure a result of their upbringing. Wait- you people actually OBEY your parents? Hahahahahahahahahah! [Asian response: yes, bitch. That’s why I got into a better college than you.] Scoff, scoff.

The Asian also rarely socializes alone- they travel in packs. They are also very punctual. The Asian girl that lives above my apartment can only be seen twice a day. Once at 7:15 when she goes to work- seriously, 7:15 on the dot every single day- and at 5:30 when she gets home. It’s like clock- work. Last month my microwave- my only source of time- broke. Fear not! I set the time based on my Asian. It’s a beautiful thing.

The Foreigner

                Whether this is an individual or a pair, you are sure to find a few on your block.  The idea of living in LA is extremely appealing to foreigners. I have to say, I really don’t understand why. Who in their right mind would want to leave Europe or Italy? EVER!? In college, I spent three months studying in Sicily.

Studying: See flirting with Italian men, bronzing on the beach and drinking wine starting at 9am daily. See also: learning about the mafia. [Yes, they still exist. Yes, they will burn your shit down if you don’t pay.]  

Anywho- my love of Italy and my experience works out as my foreigners are Italian. Yippee!! As a rule, most foreigners in LA can speak English, but only when things are going well. When they are upset? Holy hell- it’s like those episodes of I Love Lucy when Lucy Eff’s up and Ricki goes ass Cuban on her ass. I always wonder- what the hell are you saying? If you need to learn American cuss words, you have come to the right place. Mama is an authority on four letter words. I blame public school. Again, sorry dad. Foreigners are great- you can actually learn about culture and bomb.com cooking without traveling.  Turn it into a game- you teach me how to make that amazing eggplant cheese thing and I will teach you some four letters words. BOOM- that’s friendship baby.

Recap: the rules to hanging on the block: Love your dog walker. Set your clock by your Asian. Perfect the craft of debate with your stoner. Relax with your ex-actor. Make friends with your drunk. Lastly, culture yourself by way of your foreigners.

It really is like Mr. Rogers neighborhood isn’t it?