Getting Through the Day

Man I must have been feeling really bad. I was looking through my old mole skin and found a note to get a book called "Getting Through the Day." Was that really me?

Awesome

The girl who teaches the Bar Method in Pasadena is awesome. She's awesome because when she asks people their name and they say Sally or whatever, she goes "awesome." Then she goes on to the next person and the same thing happens. Awesome. But she does teach a wildly effective class. Even if it's twenty bucks a pop.

Man with Breasts in a Vons Shirt

This week I saw an old-ish man with man boobs wearing a Vons shirt hurrying up Alvarado. He had the kindest, sweetest, grandfatherly face ever. And yet the man boobs swaying from side to side. And the stained Vons shirt. Growing old gracefully isn't an easy task.

Owls Again

I thought owls had had their 15 minutes of fame. That's until I saw the owl bag from Anthropologie. Me wants it! So ironic. And it's just $398!

Scarlett Johansson

There's Gwyneth. And then there's Scarlett. Scarlett seems smart. Even Woody Allen likes her, uhm, brains. But it's still funny to see her teamed up as a brunette chanteuse with a wayfarer-wearing Pete Yorn, on an album that sells at Starbucks.

Brown Bear, Brown Bear

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, what do you see? Gwyneth Paltrow lisping at me. Ugh. Can I never get away from her? Got a book order form from preschool and one of the options was a CD of butterface reading Eric Carle's Brown Bear and other stories. Gag.

MILF UP!

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Wanna Check Out My Pad(s)?

Despite my resolution not to, for fear of looking like a football player, I wore a vintage dress with shoulder pads yesterday. I got it last year at the très glam St. Vincent de Paul. Gosh, I'm so ahead of the curve!

Coffee Enema?

I wonder where I could get a coffee enema? I think there's a place in Palm Springs, but somewhere closer to home would be nice. Losing weight is not the primary motive. Of course I do want to lose weight, but I really just want to get the yuck out. And since I love coffee so much, I thought it might be a good match.

Gestalt

People I talk to have been saying "gestalt" a lot. Not when discussing the operational principle of the brain as holistic, parallel and analog but, say, living on nothing but buttermilk for a year or dads' behavior (versus moms) on the playground. Either they think I'm really smart and feel they need to impress me with their gestalt. Or they just talk like that all the time. It's almost as funny as 'hyperbolic,' but that one's so 2007.

Girl, Interrupted

I'm feeling a little unhinged these days, even though Dr. S. is firmly planted back in the cesspool of my life. And even though fall has finally arrived with crisp mountain air and dying leaves. And even though M. couldn’t be any yummier. What's up? I need me some shopping therapy and a big glass of red wine and a day of watching Twin Peaks while eating pie.

Weird Teenage Kid

I've always trusted my 'weird intentions radar' when it comes to suspicious characters in the street. Earlier today, I pulled into the library parking lot to drop off three Elmo DVDs, and there was a teenager loitering that just had a funny vibe. When I got out of my car, he asked me for the time, which I knew was totally phony. When I got back out into the parking lot he was hanging near my car on his phone. I had a feeling all of a sudden that he might corner me, push me into the car, who knows what. And then I thought, no silly, he's just a kid. You crazy bitch. But as I got into my car he said, hey, you dropped this and handed me a piece of paper with his phone number. Then he said, God you are so beautiful. Frigging sex offender.

Nip/Tuck

Kundalini on Sunday = Spiritual Nip/Tuck. Why? Focus: the heart and self-love. And it worked! I found myself actually liking myself, this soft warm post-partum animal! And I crossed the fence into the other side where the beautiful people live. For one day, in many, many months, I did not lump myself in with the fat and ugly crowd. Because, you know, in my head there's a clear division.

Guilty Pleasures

Shoulder pads on the other hand can be way cool. But why am I thinking so much about fashion? Why am I not thinking about preschools and vitamins and baby wipes and bottle feeding? What happened? Am I maybe becoming my shallow, materialistic (vs. maternal) self again? Have two years of intense work in the Zen school of Dr. S. accomplished nothing? Case in point: $20 dollar exercise class at glam studio followed by shoe shopping at Zara and an overpriced Latte at Le Pain Quotidien, while stowing M. away at daycare. And he was clinging to me leg this morning. Can we say GUILT?

Blazers

Mantra: I will not wear a blazer. I will not wear a blazer. I will not wear a blazer. I will not wear a blazer. I will not wear a blazer. Hated them in the 80s and hate them now. Same with 80s curls. When will the 80s ever go away? They have been around since 1998!

Where is Dr. S.?

I fucked up. Dr. S. is not returning my call. Because I cancelled a session 2 weeks ago. And I was a coward and had A. call him. And then I was scared to call him. And now he probably dropped me as a patient. Because, after all, he is retired and was only seeing my out of the enlightened goodness of his yogic heart. But no more. Every day I'm a little worse. Every day I crumble a little. What will I do without him?

Pilates

I don't know why I took a Pilates class this week, but so what, I did. The teacher was ten minutes late and ended class ten minutes early. But that wasn't it. The fact that the class had no soul wasn't it either. But 15 minutes in, with all of us lying supine with our legs raised at a 45 degree angle, a pregnant woman walked in and put down her mat. She looked about 30 plus weeks. She should have been next door in prenatal yoga and I was going to say something but waited to see what would happen. The teacher was oblivious. Then another student said to the ripe mama-to-be, hey, you should probably be next door. And the idiot teacher said: 'Oh, no, Pilates is great for pregnant women!' You stupid, stupid cow! Not only should that mama not be lying flat on her back. She also shouldn't focus on rock hard abs. You feckin moron!

The Horrors

My band days are over. The Horrors at the El Rey = horror. KCRW crowd in baseball caps and football jerseys instead of eyeliner-wearing emo boys. Boring college kids with zero style or charisma. Who were the Horrors performing for? A sad representation of a city that at one point actually did have style. And then, of course, the usual suspects who experience the whole show through their cell phone or camera. And the young couples sitting side by side, texting people, together and yet light years apart. At one point A. asked me if I missed going out. I said no way. He said he didn't either. I said, how come? He said, not if going out means this.