june gloom

In the last week and a half I have uncontrollably cried in front of a parking attendant, watched a 73-year-old man in assless-leather-chaps sing Like a Rhinestone Cowboy ten times, chopped off seven inches of hair, and played my first round of real-life-not-on-a-Sega-Genesis roulette game.

I am living the life.

Then FLASH, BANG, ALACAZAM--- Jenny was back yet again, writing away. (Didn't she say she wasn't going to write anymore? buzzbuzzbuzz). I listen to Aretha Franklin and Chaka Khan, you guys. I'm a woman. It's my prerogative to change my mind. 

You may notice my lovely new blog update. Simple, sophisticated, and understated... wouldn't you say? My dear friend Belinda took it upon herself to re-design my look and I couldn't be happier. She specializes in website design so you can imagine how endlessly unamused she was with my choice of generic fonts, colors, backgrounds, etc. Belinda's the best. It's important to have classy friends. Classy friends keep you classy. 

Time for some stories!

Story #1 Update #1 My hair. It's short. Shorter than I prefer, but long enough to still feel like myself. I am seven-inches-of-hair lighter and I do feel great. 

Me and my good friend, Peach Bellini in Caesar's Palace this weekend. 

Story #1 I have bizarre crying tendencies. I do not cry when I am in heated arguments. I do not cry in front of people when they decide to trample on my heart for whatever sort of reason -- be it ending relationships or being told sad news. I'm a regular ice queen in the heat of confrontation and empty promises. But if I break a rule... or if someone tells me I did something wrong... and I DON'T KNOW THEM AT ALL.... I will cry. And it will be completely involuntary and I will be inconsolable. 

Exhibit A: A few months ago I cried at my new optometrist because he told me I owed him $110 instead of the $40 I expected to pay. Thinking he was taking advantage of my naivety and sweet demeanor, I broke down in tears at the welcome counter and expressed my distaste for his 'LA slick talking' and lack of concern for my budget. 

...He then explained that this was a new optometry rule effective everywhere: a contact lens fitting is required in order to get a contact lens prescription and the mandated cost is $70. 

Ahem. Right. The good news? He gave me a free box of contacts because I cried. Like I was a five-year-old who just got a shot or something. I'm okay with this.

Exhibit B: Last Friday morning I had an early breakfast date with my friend Beau. I found a cheap place in Century City-- that was only cheap because the parking around it started at $3 for each 15 minutes. After zooming in and out of various parking structures and lingering too long in one of them (an unfortunate $2 for a whole 2 MINUTES later), I quickly messaged Beau to meet me in Beverly Hills instead, as there are several structures that give you two free hours of parking. 

I pulled into the structure, grabbed my ticket, and met Beau at Le Pain Quotidien-- one of my very favorite cafes. An hour and a cappuccino later, Beau and I headed out to go our separate ways for work. And I had lost my parking ticket. In an hour. I got to the window and I was a pressure cooker of emotion. And then I just sat there. And cried. I'm not sure why, but I just cried. It was probably a combination of my realization of the irony of paying $24 for parking in order to avoid what would have been $10-12 in Century City. That and the fact that I paid $24 to park my car. For an hour. 

The guy felt really bad and was very nice to me, explaining that he would let me go if he could. I made sure he understood that I am only a cry baby when (a) I'm in trouble and (b) when I know I will never see the person again-- which he said he regretted--- with a wink. 

Thanks, parking attendant. 

Story #2  I attended my first awkward work outing. Not awkward because I was with work colleagues, but rather the content of the evening. We went to see a Tony Clifton show in Hollywood. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Tony Clifton, he's an old Las Vegas lounge singer character that Andy Kaufman originated in the 70s. Tony Clifton is loud, obnoxious, rude, and incredibly inappropriate. Andy Kaufman insisted to audiences that he was not Tony Clifton, and had his friend Bob Zmuda play Tony Clifton on stage so that he could interact with him. After Kaufman's death, Zmuda continued to perform as Tony Clifton as an homage to Andy Kaufman and to keep the character alive. Here's a link to a clip from Man on the Moon with Jim Carrey as Andy Kaufman interacting with Zmuda as Tony Clifton. Pretty interesting. 

Now Bob Zmuda is in his seventies and still performing Tony Clifton in LA-- and the show is as raunchy as ever.  Our production company is close with Zmuda and got some great seats at the Comedy Store on Sunset. I was thrilled to be invited. We knew it was going to be inappropriate and slightly uncomfortable... but it was ten times worse than I expected. Every song that Clifton performed was partnered with a girl who stripped down completely to pasties on stage... then followed with some of the most horrifying jokes I have ever heard. I don't mind risque humor, it's just that it's a bit shocking in a work environment... with me in my I'm-out-with-bosses-taking-myself-seriously-outfit complete with blazer and my hair pulled back in a tight Spanish au-pair-esque bun. 

The second act started off with a bang with assless-leather chaps and a matching thong, and Clifton singing Like a Rhinestone Cowboy on repeat between pelvic thrusts and multiple shots of Jack Daniels. It... was... a very bizarre evening. 

So, old men in chaps aside, life has been relatively wrinkle-free. (...too much?) Alison and Connie visited from Arizona last weekend and we had a BALL eating and flea marketing and laughing and movie-watching. I really wish they were closer, I miss them everyday. 

Alright, I should go. I'm exhausted sitting at my desk right now... I had a quick little turn around trip to Las Vegas this weekend to visit my friend and see her show. It was bloody hot there and reminded me how glad I am to NOT be in Tucson for the summers anymore. Have I mentioned how much I LOVE Los Angeles weather? Because I do. I'm in love with June Gloom and I don't care who knows it!! 

Happy Monday, friends! Kisses!