Month: March 2015

LA Story (Part I)

While most of you were busy watching the basketball games over the weekend, I know there was probably a pretty large percentage still trying to knock out the new season of House of Cards.  I’m about halfway through, but I keep falling asleep toward the end, which I do with MOST shows at this age, so I have to go back and re-watch about 1/2 of it, and it just becomes a whole thing.  But my favorite part of House of Cards dominating my newsfeed again is the fact that I get to retell my Kevin Spacey story.  (I just heard an audible groan from my friends who have heard it 50 times, but when you get to the end, you’ll be surprised I didn’t make T-shirts).

Back in 2006 I was still working in sales and my friend Sara* owned a clothing boutique.  One summer Sara was going to “Market in LA” (whatever that means, I’m still not sure ) and we decided to make it a long weekend and stay out there to see my little brother.  It turned out to be the best, most ridiculous weekend ever.  And I do not say that lightly. We spent the first two nights in Santa Monica eating amazing Italian food and shopping, then we headed into LA to stay one night at the Chateau Marmont, because even after scraping together all of our pennies, one night is all we could afford.

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View from Sunset Boulevard. Photo cred: http://offroaduruguay.org/img/chateau-marmont-history.html

View from Chateau Marmont

Th Chateau boasts some pretty amazing views, especially at night. Photo cred: http://simonbatters.com/chateaumarmont.html

One we checked into the Chateau,  Sara and I immediately put on our swimsuits and went to the pool to scope for celebrities and enjoy the LA weather.  My brother and his former gf met us at the pool, and we started ordering drinks and “charging them to the room”, because why not?  They can’t be that expensive, right?   Wrong.  I don’t remember exactly how much the tab was, but I do remember it was more than the cost of our entire room.

One of the main reasons we wanted to stay at the Chateau was because at the time the bar in the hotel was the LA hotspot, and Sara and I had an unhealthy obsession with all things US Weekly.  Our plan was to get a room, because then they would have to let us into the bar area.  Brilliant! Problem was, the bar and restaurant were completely shut down because of the wedding of some studio big-wig.   We were understandably devastated.  However, we decided right then and there (or maybe the pool margaritas decided for us) that we would go back to our rooms, change into our fanciest clothes and try to sneak into the reception, which was being held out in the garden area.  Where, incidentally, we had seen Justin Timberlake and Cameron Diaz eating a few hours earlier.  I use the term “eating” loosely, Cameron was more like angrily pushing her salad around and cutting it into tiny pieces like the lettuce owed her money, and JT was just staring at his phone.  Celeb love is so romantic.

Terrace at Chateau Marmont

The scene of the reception and JT and Cameron’s super tense lunch. Photo cred: http://simonbatters.com/chateaumarmont.html

Back to the reception.  I’m petrified because I’m 6’1 and don’t do a very good job of sneaking anywhere, but my brother was convinced it was going to be fine.  Plus, he and his ex were both models, so they looked the part.  Sara was also in wedding attire, but I was basically wearing a pin-striped shorts version of a “smart pantsuit”, so I stayed in the back until we made it all the way in.  To this day, I have no idea what we were thinking, but I guess we thought – worst case scenario, we get kicked out, or not let in at all, and we go back to our rooms.  This was shortly after the movie  “Wedding Crashers” came out, so naturally I blame Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson.

 We made it in and honestly, no one even seemed to really care or notice.  There were approximately 400 people milling about, and Jackson Browne  was playing and singing on the piano, so I guess it’s not crazy that the bride and groom didn’t notice four kids from Oklahoma standing in the corner.  At first we didn’t branch out much – we didn’t want to be even more rude than we already were – so none of us drank the champagne or ate the food, but as the night wore on, we got a little braver and all of a sudden we were mingling.  With all these studio execs and Hollywood people in the middle of the Chateau Marmont lawn.  Then, I spot him.  Kevin.  Spacey. Talking to my brother.  Lester Burnham from American Beauty, John Doe from that one movie I don’t like to talk about because it scared the crap out of me, Verbal Kint from The Usual Suspects (one of my all time faves), and finally, now all these years later, the greatest character he will ever play, the formidable Frank Underwood.

Frank is cool with wedding crashing, obv

 

Of course this was years before House of Cards, but Spacey was no less impressive.  He was talking to my brother in casual conversation, so I walked up and asked him to light my cigarette.  Partly because I wanted to come home and tell the story about how I asked Kevin Spacey for a light, and partly because I couldn’t find my lighter and I really wanted a cigarette (sorry Dad, yes I smoked a cigarette with Kevin Spacey).  He looked at me a little surprised, lit my cigarette, then I introduced myself as Justin’s sister, and he continued to chat us up.  He had obviously figured out by then that we didn’t belong there, but he apparently didn’t care, and proceeded to take us under his wing for the rest of the night.  He brought all of us champagne and asked us about Oklahoma, and our jobs at the time, etc.  He would even get up to use the restroom, or talk to someone, then come right back with more champagne and sit back down on this little couch with us.  It was so surreal, and he was just so nice.  I’m glad that he wasn’t Frank Underwood yet, because honestly, even though it’s just a character, there is no way I would have had the guts to talk to him after what I’ve seen him do on that show.

At the time he was the artistic director at the Old Vic in London, and also acting on stage in several productions.  He told us all about it, and talked about how much he enjoyed being back in London and acting on stage.  I was all, I know, right???  Then, and this is the best part, he asked me if I’d tried any of the sushi at the reception.  I said no, because I didn’t really want to eat these people’s food, but he told me it was incredible and that I had to try some…then he offered me a piece of sushi from his own chopsticks.  Although it was probably only a few seconds, I felt like I sat there contemplating that strange turn of events for several minutes.  Look, I am a grade A, certifiable germaphobe.  I’m not as bad now, but back then, I wouldn’t eat or drink after anyone, not even a family member or someone I was dating.  I just wouldn’t do it.  So, I was sitting there, at the Chateau Marmont, with Kevin Spacey offering me sushi, and I’m staring at this piece of fish on his chopsticks and finally I just said to hell with it and dove right in, to everyone’s complete shock.  Later, towards the end of the night, as everyone was saying their goodbyes, he handed me a big candy heart like the ones from Valentine’s day with a little message on it.  It said Be Mine.  I kept it for a long time but it finally disintegrated in my drawer, as candy hearts most often do.

Sara and I went back up to our room going over and over what had happened so we wouldn’t forget. It’s too bad we didn’t have smart phones or Facebook in 2006 or there would have been photos and status updates, but instead I have to remember that night the old-fashioned way, by telling and retelling the story until everyone wants to punch me in the face.  The next morning Sara and I both woke up really late and really hungover, put an exorbitant amount of money on her credit card, and almost missed our flights back home.

Stay tuned for LA Story Part II – it involves talking our way into a party at Paris Hilton’s house, knocking over someone’s really fancy motorcycle, riding in Allen Schwartz’s Bentley, and smoking cigarettes with Courtney Love.  I told you it was the best weekend ever.  Maybe I will make a t-shirt…

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Thanks Imprint.com!

*Different Sara from St. Patrick’s Day – you can tell by the missing “h.”

The Luck of the Irish

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!!!  Hope everybody is well into their third green beer by now and you’re trying to read this while crowded into an Irish pub.  I personally choose to avoid St. Patrick’s Day celebrations when it falls on a weekday, namely to avoid the dreaded work hangover, but I hope all you crazy kids out there who’ve been at it since noon drink responsibly and remember to Uber home tonight.  

I also have kind of a hard time with SPD because I don’t really like the color green all that much.  I think it stems from playing T-Ball when I was a kid.  My team colors were green and white and I was called the Jolly Green Giant all the time because I was tall and skinny, and well, as we know, my hair looked a bit like roughage.  I also had a green cardigan with leather elbow patches that  I wore with brown stirrup pants (I don’t know why) and all the kids told me I looked like a tree.  This is not a joke.  So I think I just subconsciously gravitate away from anything green.  BUT, I am a total stickler when it comes to wearing green on the 17th.   Growing up, the kids in my elementary school in Ardmore took St. Patrick’s Day very very seriously.  And should you choose to ignore the tradition of wearing green, their pinching was NO JOKE.  You wake up late and forget it’s St. Patrick’s Day…you came home looking like you’d been in a car wreck from the neck down.  These kids were animals.  They didn’t even care if you were wearing a variant on the color green; if you didn’t have on something that looked like it was designed by the leprechaun on the Lucky Charms box, some grubby little kid’s fingers were digging into your skin by the end of first period.  It was horrible.  So, even when I don’t want to, I always begrudgingly wear some sort of green on March 17th because I have some form of PTSD from elementary school.

Today’s #ootd courtesty of Anne Taylor Loft, otherwise known as my work clothes mecca. This shade of green would have been a death sentence at Lincoln Elementary.

My St. Patrick’s Day outfits in the past have been pretty half-assed because I never own anything green.  It’s usually something I throw together last second, like mardi gras beads around my wrist, or maybe a green scrunchie.  Then, there was 2004.

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It’s too bad we didn’t have camera phones back then because unfortunately all I have from this evening is this head shot of me and my friend Sarah.  We don’t get to see the outfit in its entirety, which is partly a blessing and partly a real damn shame.  But I’m going to try and describe it and then recreate it below so you can use your imagination.  Bottom line, I should have never been let out of my house.

Let’s assess:  First up, green Von Dutch T-shirt.  (Was Von Dutch even still a thing in 2004?  Wait, don’t answer that.)  The version below is a little brighter than the one I had, I think my color was called “heathered green”, but you get the point.  Your style maven didn’t stop there, though…next I paired the green tee with a white khaki skirt.  Finally, I finished off the outfit with the pièce de résistance – WHITE  PUMPS.  To add insult to injury I think I also carried a black furry purse that night too.  You guys, this outfit is so bad, it’s embarrassing even for me.  At least you can still purchase both the skirt and heels today (J.Crew and Steve Madden, respectively) but the Von Dutch tee is long gone.

                                              

That night, after I got all gussied up, I marched my tail down to the local Irish pub where I promptly bumped into my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend, who just so happened to NOT be dressed like a slutty keebler elf.  After that I took way too many Irish Car Bombs, gave him an hour’s worth of side-eye, then called it a night .  Ahhhh, memories.

Lazy Single Girl takes on Pinterest. Alternatively titled: How to Handle a Pinterest Induced Anxiety Attack

I’ve been a bad blogger.  I haven’t posted in, well, longer than I care to admit for having a new blog.  BUT, I have a good excuse, and it’s called Pinterest.  I decided a few days ago that my next post was going to be about someone like me, the Lazy Single Girl (or LSG for short…because, I’m lazy) taking on something like Pinterest.  Which is NOT a lazy endeavor. At all.  In fact, I’ve decided that maneuvering through Pinterest is harder than complex math.  Maybe even harder than figuring out COMMON CORE, which is basically gibberish (sorry not sorry, math people).  I promised myself I wouldn’t post until I got an account set up and figured a few things out, which consisted of several days of panic attacks, a few episodes of throwing my phone across the room, and a lot of “NO ONE’S HOUSE REALLY LOOKS LIKE THAT LADY”.  But, finally, here we are.  Don’t get too excited, there’s not much, but by God I have 6 boards and I’m proud of it.  Except the photography board has a baby on the cover, which sort of freaks me out, because every time I open it up I’m like, WHY IS THERE A BABY IN MY PINTEREST, but then I remember it’s just an article about how to take good indoor photos.  Which is a must have for, you know, cats.

Pretty adorable kid, but WOW look at that lighting. Photo cred: doeadeery.blogspot.com

I have a “fitness” board, and a “food” board, which are both in “quotations” because I don’t currently cook, and I don’t currently fitness, but someone once told me Pinterest was like a big online vision board a la The Secret, so it stands to reason that if I pin a bunch of dishes to cook, and exercises to try, then one day I will just magically begin to do those things, correct?  One can only hope.  If that’s the case I also need a board for cleaning and getting places on time, and learning to avoid run-on sentences, but…baby steps.

I also have a board for Products because, hey tiny little bottle that costs a fortune, if you say you’re going to get rid of the circles under my eyes and make me look like Blake Lively, then you are coming home with me.  My last two boards are titled “Humor” and “The Lazy Single Girl” and both are empty, so read into that what you will.  My next plan is to add one for travel and maybe one for blogging because BOY does Pinterest love bloggers (and vice versa).  FYI – it took everything in me not to have a board just for cats, but so far I’ve refrained.  Take THAT cat lady rumors.  (OHMIGOD YOU GUYS THAT LINK I’M DYING).

I’ve learned that the Pinterest search bar is kind of like Google, so that does make it user friendly.  You can basically just ask it a question and it comes ups with all these little ideas for your vision board, like magic.

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This pretty much sums it up

I, for one, think I will sort of miss having a bulletin board because at least with pin tacks I can just stick myself in the eyes when somebody talks about making easy DIY headboards.

So what about you guys?  Are you avid Pinners?  Is that what it’s called?  What do you pin and why?

Happy Pinning everyone!

 

 

Fangirl Friday – Love and Sapphires

It’s been a few weeks since my last Fangirl Friday, so I thought I would bring it back with a bullet.  Today’s post features my friend Laura of Love and Sapphires.  Laura and I go way back to the Kappa house at OU.  She was my “little sis” and we roomed together because we shared a love of sleeping.  Because college is exhausting, right?  Who knew years (and years) later I would be writing about her on my new baby blog.  Laura is doing AWESOME things over on Love and Sapphires and because I am so fashion…well to put it kindly, averse, I read each of her post’s with the awe of a kid reading about space for the first time.  I mean, I blog in over-sized sweatpants and a T-shirt with the neck cut out of it (you can say my style lands me squarely in the 80’s), and she probably blogs in Balenciaga – and yes, I had to Google that. The other thing I love about Love and Sapphires is the fact that Laura herself is featured in each one of her posts.  It’s such a real style, you aren’t just seeing clothes displayed strategically against a white background or on a runway, you’re seeing the outfits Laura wears every day.  I clearly should have paid more attention when we were roomies.  It also doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous!   I love how she will either a) link to where she got the item, or b) show you where to get something similar.  And she also uses the same staple pieces and accessories in a ton of different ways.  It makes me think even I could be a fashionista one day.   I’ve clipped in some of my favorite looks below.

Laura explains on her blog how she came about starting Love and Sapphires and her “blog beginning” has always really resonated with me.  Her father, who was indeed such a kind man, battled cancer for about 9 years before finally succumbing to the disease.  She named her blog Love and Sapphires because of the loving imprint he left on the world and the birthstone they both share. As I mentioned earlier in the blog, I also have a mother who passed away from cancer and similarly to Laura, she too been such an inspiration for my writing and even the name of this blog.  As written by Rumi, “Don’t grieve.  Anything you lose comes round in another form” and I think that’s so true for both of us.  He also said, “cats are awesome”, but I might be wrong about that last part.

Congrats Laura!  Can’t wait to see what’s next!   Don’t forget to follow her on Instagram, Twitter and Pinterest.

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And then he blessed me and I think we had a moment

I have a rabbit “leopard” fur coat.  It’s stunningly beautiful.  I received it as a gift from my brother from his gorgeous clothing line two Christmases ago and I adore it.  BUT, Oklahoma doesn’t exactly have a lot of places you can wear a leopard fur coat, so when I wear it, it definitely makes a statement and I have to admit, I feel a bit conspicuous.  I basically look like a 6 foot 1 part-woman-part-animal coming straight at you.  I can only  imagine its terrifying.  I wear it to fundraisers and gala-type events (when I get invited), big nights out, and then I always wear it on Christmas Eve for Midnight Mass.

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The coat in all its glory. Jules thinks it’s faux. Shhh.

A few years ago I was in LA visiting my brother right before the holidays and he gave me the coat as an early present.  We were having a cold winter so when I got home for Christmas Eve, I bundled up in black tights, and black skirt, tall suede boots and a red top (very Christmasy if you ask me) and topped it off with red lipstick and my leopard coat.  I was running late that night, as I often am, and I misunderstood what time I was meeting my family at the church.  I thought we were going to a quick come-and-go communion at 7:30, but they went to communion about 15 minutes before.  So, I’m late, and when I walk in, communion is over, and almost everyone has left.  I should quickly point out that I have an extreme need to take communion anytime it’s offered (blame my Catholic baptism and Episcopalian upbringing).

I see that the minister is starting to put away the wine and the bread, so I sprint down the aisle in my Christmas outfit, leopard coat flapping behind me in the wind, to try to get him to give me communion at the last second.  The minister stops and sees me coming, probably wondering if there’s a wild animal that’s escaped from the zoo and is now terrorizing downtown Tulsa.  I know I look distraught because I’m late and out of breath from running (in heels thank-you-very-much), and I can imagine he’s watching me and thinking, apparently this girl REALLY NEEDS TO TAKE COMMUNION.  He stops what he’s doing and I get to the front of the aisle, all out of breath and disheveled, and he puts his hand on my head and blesses me right then and there and gives me communion, no questions asked.  I think we kind of had a moment.  I leave and meet my family for dinner, and start thinking back on the evening’s events, realizing that the minister most likely assumed I was some sort of working girl coming in off the streets in my leopard fur coat and red lipstick asking for last second forgiveness of all of my sins.  Eh, probably not that far off.  Anyway, leopard coat -1, Me – 0

The next time I wore the coat, it was to a fundraiser.  I had it on over a short navy long-sleeved dress.  Problem was, the coat was longer than the dress.  I had the coat clasped together in the front and bundled up around me, and only then did I realize, along with everybody else  (yes lady, I DID see your side-eye) that I looked like I was wearing my leopard fur coat…and nothing else.   And it was too cold to take off my jacket until we were seated for dinner.  Leopard coat – 2, Me – 0.

I thought about it over the weekend because I went to another fundraiser on Friday night and had on the same coat, which was still longer than my dress (maybe that’s my problem?)  But, at least this time I had the good sense to keep the jacket open so people could tell that I was wearing clothes.  Leopard coat – 2, me-1.  We still have a few weeks left of winter so stay tuned for more of this developing saga.  Also – on the same night as the aforementioned fundraiser, I slipped and fell on the ice (in my leopard fur coat)  and now have a hole the size of a half-dollar in my knee, but that’s a blog post for Wednesday.

By the way, this is why I can’t have nice things.

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