Freckles Are Funky

Oh well...

2011-06-06T23:44:00.000-07:00

Just like every journal I've ever started, I have left this one hanging...

How long have I been gone?

My last post was about a new site called Amie Street that was making waves in the music industry by bucking the system and providing a fan-driven pricing platform for all musicians.

Over a YEAR ago, Amie Street was bought, eaten, digested and discarded by Amazon...

Well... I'm back.

Ahhhh Amie Street

2007-02-10T02:10:00.000-08:00

So, I am in love with this website...

amiestreet.com

You simply MUST spend some time here.

Use the promo code: populuxe
for some extra credits.

Here's the deal:

"Our Purpose:

Amie Street is charting the future course of music retail

We know music is social, and the process of music discovery is stunted by traditional digital music retail sites because they are not social (or fun). Music discovery is best catalyzed by communication between people, so we reward fans for recommending songs to their friends by giving them credit to buy more music. Whether you spend two minutes or two hours on our site you are connected to a world of music lovers.

We support our artists by giving them 70% of song sales and never taking ownership of their creative work. We want all artists on Amie Street to be successful and we believe that our unique marketplace will accomplish this goal to a degree never achieved before. Amie Street is where bands and fans run the show.

Move to Amie Street, music lives here."

Brilliant

More Poland...

2005-09-03T03:48:00.000-07:00

Where are the movie Cameras?
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

This is real...this is Poland...

2005-09-03T03:47:00.000-07:00

There ARE no movie cameras - this is real...
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

I was walking in Krakow when I looked across the street to see this. An old lady shoveling coal into little tin buckets so her husband could carry it up 3 flights of stairs.

I cried.

It's really sad that in the year 2005, senior citizens in Poland have to cary coal up 3 flights of stairs to keep warm. I have never seen anything like it.

Actually, I have.

In post war films.

So I looked around for the movie cameras...

But there were none.

I offered to help them but apparently these people didn't take kindly to the kindness of strangers.

So I snaped these photos and walked away. Two hours later I returned to this street to buy gifts at a shop i had passed earlier - the entire pile of coal was gone - what brutes!

Poland?

2005-09-01T07:57:00.000-07:00

Poland morning...ugh
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

Yes, Poland.

What an unreal experience.

I have been in a lot of places but Poland takes the cake – it’s just not the chocolate cake – it’s the cake that has been put in a cupboard and forgotten about for a couple hundred years…

What is inexplicable to me is the obscene amount of tourists here.

“Hey honey! I have a couple of days off work – what do you say we cash in those frequent flyer miles and take that trip to Poland we’ve been talking about all these years!”

I don’t even know how or where to begin.

My first morning here I looked out the window of my hotel, the Novotel Centrum, Krakow, and saw a lovely castle perched high on a hill top in the not to distant distance. Not too shabby.

Krakow is often referred to, in Poland anyway, as Poland’s historical & cultural jewel. From what I can ascertain, this is mainly due to the fact it is still standing.

To be fair, Krakow is jam-packed with beautiful buildings like the castle – complete with it’s very own dragon legend, a cathedral dripping in wealth, and one of the largest town squares in Europe.

The weather in the summertime, while extremely dreary in the morning, burns off quickly to bright sunshine, moderate heat and low humidity.

The currency, the zloty is pleasantly conducive to gift buying with an exchange rate of 3.4 zloty to one American dollar. (but I wrote that yesterday and today it’s 3.1PLN/1 USD – what’s happening here? Is this because of Katrina?) The food, if you are a meat eater is surprisingly good and the desserts are to die for. If, however, you do not eat meat or sweets, Poland is the world’s greatest diet. Unfortunately for me I do not fit into this category. Surprisingly enough, the best meal I have had here was Italian. Go figure. The apple strudel also deserves an extremely honorable mention. I have had one almost every day – can’t seem to get enough.

Fortunately the Novotel Centrum comes with a fitness center to offset the pastries they serve here…

The problem I am having with Poland is the depressing-ness of it. This country’s been torn by war, communism, harsh winter weather and stunningly brutal atrocities against human kind. You can see the result of this history where ever you look. Blood everywhere – except, of course, in the churches, which somehow survived both the Nazis and communism with astonishing grace. You can see it in the people’s eyes, which often look as if they are made of glass, and in every weathered brick of every meticulously preserved building.

I didn’t walk into this blindfolded. As the granddaughter of survivors from Poland I flew here well aware of Poland’s history and fully expecting it to be frozen in time and horror. It has been quite a difficult experience for me to be here, be Jewish, and have a good time in the process. To be accurate it has been impossible.

To make matters, if not worse, more bizarre, the movie that is being filmed here takes place in a war-torn 1940’s Poland, complete with a slew of extras dressed as clergymen, nuns, period towns folk and Nazi soldiers so as I walk the streets of this historic town, these characters add to the chilling reality of this places historical terror. The disconcerting image of Nazi soldiers walking through the cathedral’s private courtyard with their lady friends, laughing it up and taking pictures, actually makes me feel ill. I understand this to be irrational, but I truly feel frightened by it, and as a result have spent the bulk of my time within the safe confines of my hotel. The modern day Poles do not seem much happier than the period extras, and the older folk do not dress much differently either. For example:

In Italy – they know you are a tourist as soon as you open your mouth to speak.

Here in Poland, you’re outed as soon as you crack a smile.

I am not kidding.

Don’t get me wrong. I have managed to cover quite a bit of territory here – seen a lot of things. My first full day here I went to see “Lady with an Ermine” one of the three da Vinci oil paintings on the planet. The painting is ugly, but of course, masterful. The lady holds a ferret so ugly it makes your skin crawl – but it’s a da Vinci, and any painting that can conjure an actual, physical response is worth a serious gander.

I have also had access to areas not generally seen by the public because of my association with the movie shoot. The movie, apparently, has been given almost unrestricted access to some of the most historical places within Krakow because of it’s subject matter – the Pope, John Paul II – the Polish Pope is a hero here and the people credit him for their liberation from communism.

I have seen hundreds of registered artworks, what feels like twice as many places the Pope once slept, countless churches and even more camera stores for some reason no one can seem to explain to me – since they don’t appear to actually manufacture cameras here in Poland. Despite having really “done” Krakow, I still feel very uncomfortable in my surroundings. Tomorrow I will board a bus to go and visit Auschwitz and Birkenau – the ladder of which is the largest of the Nazi death camps. After that, I will be glad to cross Poland off my list – been there – done that - and ecstatic to board my plane in the wee hours of the morning, and head back to the good old US of A – It really is, sometimes, so easy to forget how good we have it.

I could never feel at home here…

Italy?!

2005-09-01T07:52:00.000-07:00

View From the Hotel...
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

Yes, Italy!!

With only one day left in Europe, and that day slotted for visiting the local Nazi concentration camps, I can safely say, that the best part of my Poland trip, was the Italians I met here, (In Poland - most of the film crew is from Rome) the Italian food I ate here, and the trip to Venice Jamie, the greatest boss ever, along with Joan, his lovely traveling companion, arranged as a treat during one of his breaks from shooting.

The only thing Italy and Poland have in common is the Pope/Church thing – and somehow, even that is more charming en Itallia.

I was in Poland for 11 hours when I was whisked away by Austrian airlines to Venice, Italy.

Ahhh Vennezia…

The last time I was in Venice, two and a half years ago, with my sister Abigail, it was January, it was snowing, and I was in a completely different tax bracket making it almost impossible to exist there for more that two days. Venice is extremely expensive and the Euro is kicking the Dollar’s ass.

There are only two things about Venice that aren’t quite as amazing as the rest of Italy:

Seat-less toilets…why?
And a ridiculous amount of tourists resulting in outrageous prices almost everywhere you go.

Everything else in Venice is spectacular – everything. It is not entirely fair for me to sit and write about Italy from a mediocre restaurant in Poland – perspective is everything – I was a big fan of Italy to begin with and it’s life and luster is only further highlighted by the frowns and potatoes of eastern Europe.

But!

Here I sit and it gives me nothing but warm, fuzzy feelings to bring you a bit of Venetian life from this Polish barstool.

Venice, with it’s twisting canals, and salt weathered walls is, quite possibly the most beautiful place I have ever seen. The beauty of this floating town more than makes up for the hoards of tourists buying Gucci handbags and the lack of toilet seats.

Fortunately, our hotel, Hotel San Moisé, did have toilet seats. My room looked similar to an old chapel with low, wooden beamed ceilings and a smattering of Venetian glass for color. The hotel was located just off San Marco Square, by far the most tourist-y area of town but full of cafes, pigeons, music and activity.

Upon our arrival, Joan and I took a restaurant suggestion from the concierge at our hotel and walked through tiny alleys and over two bridges to Galileo for an amazing dinner of fish and vegetables.

You really can’t eat enough when in Italy. You simply must eat three meals a day because any meal you skip is a missed opportunity.

Venice is all eat and stare with wonder…sit and drink coffee and stare, and draw, and listen and stare and write and stare and eat some more, while staring. It is hard to actually do anything but stare at the beauty all around you. Every corner you round takes your breath away.

The Italians are full of life – you can taste it in their food, in their wine – you can easily see it all over their faces – they actually appear to be glistening.

Venice is a town that cannot be crossed of your list when you are done because there is simply, no way to finish - too much to see, and the thought of never going back can actually give you stomach pain.

I spent all five days completely lost in the serpentine alleys that turn you around and around until you wind up where you started, laughing it up with a guy who has watched you walk by his gellateria 5 times thinking you where going places.

Sure – I’ll have a small cup of vanilla…

If you need to actually get somewhere – the locals are more than happy to direct you. They will say:

Cross the square, go down the road to your left – over two bridges and then ask someone again.

You will always get there – but often will have to ask fifteen, twenty people in the process which is really no problem because every one of them smiles, places their hand on your back like an old friend, points, waves, and explains – no trouble at all.

I felt at home in Italy from my first sip of espresso. Yum by the way…
The coffee in Poland is surprisingly decent – far better than the US, but the coffee in Italy is completely obscene.

To go from Italy to the USA is hard, but leaving Italy and flying to Poland actually kills brain cells.

I cannot wait to go back.

Matthijs is back...

2005-06-27T09:16:00.000-07:00

me & Matt
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

My pseudo roommate's back from the Netherlands...Sweet little Dutch boy -

Ladies!

Get in line!

This Dutch boy's single!!

Marry him so he can stay here and pay part of my rent!

Just look at this face!

How could you resist?!

...Realizing that there are only two women who read this blog...

Gentlemen...

Could you do me a big favor?

If you know any cute girls who might want a Dutch husband can you send them my way?

Especially if they're Asian - he loves that!!

I'm poor! I need my roommate!

I'll start the bidding @ forty dollars...

Where has all the fresh water gone?

2005-05-28T11:25:00.000-07:00

I cant imagine actually liking the beach. So damn bright, sun reflecting off everything, sand, ocean so you squint, and avoid looking at the fat pale guy who is scratching himself - shedding his winter skin - reflecting so much light the people sitting next to him are burning to a crisp. Sand everywhere, in your eyes, hair, down there, ugh. I think people all pretend to like the beach because, of course, how could you not? The beach is just a place where people with some body confidence can freely flaunt it without looking trashy. I have never been one of these people. As a redhead, sunbathing has never been much of an option. Crowds of amazed strangers gather around to watch my freckles pop and darken. They laugh, and in 10 minutes I begin to burn that's fun to watch too! The only good thing about a hot day on the beach is having a friend with the foresight to pack a cooler with ice and freezing cold beverages to consume - replacing the sweat thats dripping down your toasted body.

Theres also the sound of children having fun. Thats kind of nice too.

I can appreciate a cold day at the beach. Meditation, waves, no one around just you and the frozen ocean spray - like needles on your face...

But for warm weather I would much rather bake on a rock by a waterfall, or on a raft @ the lake. I'll take a rope swing over a wave any day of the year.

Online dating...

2005-05-24T09:37:00.000-07:00

I have seen plenty of advice posted by men, for women about what to say in their profiles and what type of pictures to post. Some of them are very funny but I am here with a reality check.

It really doesn't matter.

If you are a woman - you will have no problem getting dates online. It doesn’t matter what you write – most of the time men don’t read it anyway. I don't know what the male/female ratio is but I am thinking it's the industry’s best-kept secret and judging by the fact that I have just been given my 4th free trial membership, these sites are hurtin' for women.

There is a funny guy on Jdate who has a profile called "Advice4Girls" He updates it monthly and I get a chuckle whenever I read it:

"Tired of being single? Maybe I can help. It’s been over a year since I joined Jdate and thought I'd share some male observations. Those of you have been with me from day one have heard me doing a lot of ranting and raving about the flaky girls on Jdate and offer some basic guidelines in acting like a considerate human being. Well, this time around I think I'll skip the psych 101 routine and just dive into some meaty observations about the profiles I've seen. Let's start from the top, shall we? Let's all take a nice, long, hard look at your pictures. Now look in the mirror. Do they match? Probably the #1 complaint people have is that that we're meeting folks who don't look like their pictures. There's nothing that sucks more than showing up all excited for your date and finding someone else waiting for you. Can we all pledge to put up an honest picture? This whole "once he meets me he’ll fall in love with my personality" stuff doesn't fly. Put up an honest pic and you'll actually meet people who dig the way you look. Believe me, I know what it's like to want to post that one pic from three years ago where you looked totally hot, but if that's not you on a daily basis, leave it in the drawer. Otherwise sure, you're going to reel in a lot of guys, but they're going to throw you back and that just leads to hurt feelings and wasted time. You may get fewer responses with an honest picture, but it's not about quantity, right? It's about the ones who you will truly be compatible with.”

Yeah, men never do this.

I wish there was an emoticon I could insert here to accurately express my reaction to this paragraph - one eyebrow raised and an eye roll...

Please.

This paragraph applies to both sexes. I have been on quite a few dates and only a handful have looked like their photos. Women don't bitch about it nearly as much because they have a much bigger pool to go back to. I have been disappointed, I have been pleasantly surprised, and I have fallen head-over-heels for people I had no initial attraction to. Bad dates are part of the process right? They provide comparison so that you can thoroughly appreciate how great the good ones are. Deception is a hazard of the online medium – let’s all get over it – I hardly think that going on a date with a fat person who has deceived you by posting a photo of Christy Brinkley is the worst thing in the world – it sure as hell gives you a funny story to tell – and life is all about collecting funny stories…

“Ladies… ‘Medium build’ and ‘Soft’ can mean many things, but ‘Firm and toned’ is pretty specific. It means, ‘Not overweight in any way shape or form.’ Jdate makes it nice and easy for us to leave out our actual weight, let's not abuse the privilege by fibbing with the handy 'vague' option, ok? Seriously, if someone puts 'firm and toned' and they turn out to be 'lardo' it should give you the right to just turn around and walk away from the date so either go to the gym or make your selection more accurate!"

Yeah, men never do this either...

This is one of my biggest pet peeves. I put "Voluptuous" under body type. Nine out of ten guys that contact me open with the line "You don't look voluptuous/fat to me...you look great"

Yeah?

Thanks.

My profile clearly states under the heading "Perfect Match":

"A person that knows the definition of voluptuous is not: to be fat, so he doesn't have to ask."

This is not a trick.

I am not trying to catch you not actually reading my profile...

BUSTED!

I just don't want to date a guy who only looks at my pictures, body type and weight to decide if am worthy to drink coffee with him. I want to drink coffee with a guy who has bothered to read what I have bothered to write...maybe it's naive - but I have no shortage of responses - and no problem whittling the list down to a handful that took the time to find out something about me - or at least enough intelligence to know, or curiosity to look up the word voluptuous in the dictionary before contacting me. It is not my fault that other women use voluptuous when they mean fat. I don't want to date them either - they are the deceptive ones - not I.

Advice4Girls says,

“Oh ladies…First of all, maybe it's just me, but profiles that start out with 'hey guys' or 'hiya fellas' just sound a little impersonal. 'Us guys' already know we're competing for you, so you don't have to throw it in our faces. If a guy's opening line was 'hey ladies what's up' he would probably come across as a player, right? 'Nuff said. Another popular starter is 'I can't believe I'm doing this' or 'I finally broke down and joined.' Roughly translated that means 'I was above it for a long time but now I have finally stooped down to the same level as the rest of you losers.' Seriously, that's how it comes across. You have nothing to apologize for; this is the way everyone is meeting now! Anyone who makes fun of online daters just doesn't have the courage to do it themselves, so be proud you're joining and just get on with it. As far as talking about who you are, anything goes, there are definitely no rules, just have fun and be yourself. The only observation I have is that sometimes people seem to turn their essays into resumes or travel itineraries. Honestly, listing every country you've been to or every job you had isn't going to tell us anything about you and it might even make you sound like you're bragging. Saying you have a passion for traveling is more than enough. And while we're on the subject, pictures of people standing in front of the pyramids, Big Ben or playing with dolphins is just plain silly! Unless you are a dolphin trainer, that pic really doesn't tell us who you are and there's a good chance a pic of you in a wetsuit squinting into the sun isn't very flattering. The bottom line is don't try too hard to impress, just be yourself."

Yeah, I agree with all of this for the most part (other than his use of 'Nuff said’, which makes me cringe.) I think his whole diatribe would have been far more effective if he put it out there for women AND men…no?

Additional dating advice, just off the top of my head…

DO NOT post a topless photo. I am a sucker for abs but no matter how hot yours are – you look like a dick showing them off on line – especially on Jdate – what would your mother say?!?!?!

DO NOT post your income if you are not specifically looking for a gold digger. It’s tacky.

If you are balding, DO shave your head - DO NOT try to photo shop hair into your receding hairline. This may sound obvious but it happens frequently.

If you are looking for “marriage & children” DO NOT offer up naked photos in the first 3 minutes of an online chat and certainly DO NOT send them.

When you meet a girl’s family for the first time and her grandmother asks you,

“So? What would you like to do with your life?”

DO NOT answer,

“I want to be a great husband and father.”*

*Credit goes out to the fellow my friends and I now affectionately refer to as… The Rug Vomiter

Interestingly enough fully clothed, good-looking men seem to actually read profiles, shirtless men don’t even pretend to have read them, and men with photo shopped hair read just enough to come up with a snappy email that appears to show interest in something other than how your breasts look in your photos.

Back to where I began…I agree that people should post a profile that accurately represents who they are but the online medium allows people to be something a little different – to talk to people they would be too shy to approach at a bar, to brag a little about what makes them proud about themselves – sometimes being more real than they feel they can be in a social setting, more confident, etc. Whatever – we are all human AND we keep going back for more…

At least I do. Don’t know if I’m a glutton for punishment or just looking for new blog material…

So you want to produce?

2005-05-13T10:19:00.000-07:00

Check out this website:

1 Second Film

What a creative, amusing way to do something good for the world.

I'm inspired.

I am also a producer!

Intelligent Life On Mars...

2005-05-06T09:14:00.000-07:00

Went on a date last night with a guy who was not a sociopath.

Just thought you all would want to know.

The guy promised to restore my faith in normal with out being boring and he delivered on both fronts. None of the people drinking coffee around us looked over at me and mouthed the words:

Are you ok?

So, very refreshing. I needed a good experience in this arena - I was beginning to think of this dating thing as more of a sociological experiment...

Which, essentially it is. I'll be honest - It has been a fascinating experience.

But it's good to know that they're all not mutants -

And it's good to know you can be "normal" and interesting at the same time.

Fantastically bad...

2005-05-04T08:31:00.000-07:00

but for some reason - I'm loving it!

I have a friend who is seeing multiple people. (This friend shall FOREVER remain nameless so don't even ask)

I don't think that there is anything wrong with seeing a few people at a time. It's good to keep your options open. It can help you discover what it is you really want out of a mate. As long as you are careful and honest with the people you date and with yourself I think it's healthy to date around.

This friend, who I will call "R", is seeing multiple people, some believe that they are involved in an exclusive arrangement, some in a strictly booty-call situation - so unfortunately, this is not an honest scenario... but R's gotta do what R's gotta do - who am I to judge?

What's fantastically bad is the toothbrush situation.

R shuffles the suitors through the apartment offering them each a toothbrush in the morning. R has repeat visitors and everyone has a toothbrush. How does R keep track of who's toothbrush is who's - making sure that those that don't realize they are not the only one don't find other toothbrushes hanging around? Well, in this case it has been easy.

They have all been using the same toothbrush for a month now.

I don't know why I find this so funny. I guess I never thought about it before.

I've thought about the condom issue - W thinks there are 6 condoms left in the pack, G, 7 so you have to have either 2 separate boxes hidden in different drawers, or a 3rd box elsewhere for replenishing - but that could be complicated - 'cause then you have to find a place to hide the tally list and that would be a really bad thing for someone to stumble across...

I suggested a fish bowl filled with condoms - anyone who would take the time to count shouldn't really be there in the first place.

But the toothbrush situation has been a shock to my system - not that I have any toothbrushes out in the world right now - just a sonicare charging in my kitchen, but you better believe I'm gonna spend the dollar necessary to purchase the emergency travel toothbrush for my purse that Cosmo's been urging me to buy for some time now.

I suggest you all do the same. Good oral hygiene is very important.

Be prepared.

Relax...

2005-04-27T07:13:00.000-07:00

OK.

Everyone take a deep breath.

First of all I would like to thank the universe again for the amazing group of friends I have managed to collect over the years. I am so lucky to have so many outstanding people looking out for me.

Thank You!

Thank You!

Thank You!

That being said, I want to reassure all of you that life in Los Angeles is under control. I have great friends here looking out for me - and a few street smarts myself.

Dating, anywhere, is pure comedy. The bad dates tend to be much funnier on paper than the good ones are. There have been good ones. I still have a bit of faith left in my judgment. I am being careful - I'm on sabbatical - and I'm gonna be OK.

Thank You!

Thank You!

Thank You!

For all of your concern but PLEASE don't worry about me.

I always land on my feet.

Crazy....

2005-04-26T08:48:00.000-07:00

Ok, I actually woke up early so I could vent this before the 9am barrage of phone calls begins.

I have started dating again, in an attempt to mix things up a bit - and distract myself from things that aren't mixing very well at all.

Unfortunately, yesterday I was fully scrambled.

Calling a girl you have just met 4 times a day from the other side of the planet will scare her.

Calling 12 times from her very own neighborhood? Even scarier.

Leaving bizarre gifts on her doorstep after placing all these calls and receiving no answer? That is called stalking, and stalking is not sexy. It is frightening.

Crazy was the theme of the day.

I met another guy for coffee. I cannot really go into the details of our conversation - but it became apparent in the first 5 minutes that I was sitting across from someone who was crazy. Not crazy-fun, crazy-insane. I was sitting across the table from the type of person who takes an shot gun to work and blows everyone away.

Seriously.

I am not qualified to make this type of diagnosis but there were, thankfully, other people in the coffee shop who had both full credentials - and the foresight to keep me inside the coffee shop for a full 40 minutes after I asked my date to please leave.

Signs you are on a date with a crazy person:

1. He chews a full pack of gum, piece by piece before your coffee has cooled enough to sip.

2. He tears newspaper and his coffee cup in to tiny pieces creating a mountain of abused paper in the center of the table

3. He says things like, "Empathy is a damaging human emotion - if you can rid yourself of empathy - you are on the path to enlightenment..."

Yes. Really.

And last, but certainly not least...

4. @ 7:15 you know he was abused by his alcoholic parents, has a history of hitting his girlfriends, and a problem with impotence. You got there at 7:05.

No shit.

Not sure what else to say here. I have another date tonight but I am quite sure it needs to be canceled. There's something to be said for boredom I think. Maybe I'll get some writing done...

Boo Radley...

2005-04-18T21:53:00.000-07:00

Tonight I am writing out of guilt.

There is a celebrity who lives in my neighborhood. The celebrity has a history of screaming at people for no reason...or worse, really, really bad reasons. Everyone on my block is scared of her. She screams at everyone. I have been witnessing extremely bizarre activity over on that side of the street on at least a biweekly basis since moving here in September of last year. She's the block comedy. Shared experience. We all have something to talk about. Boo Radley - that person that lives in that house on the corner...

In LA, in general, I have noticed a lack of neighborly activity. People don't really know many of their neighbors. They know people within their own buildings but they aren't on even a last name basis with more than one or two other people on their block. In Boston the reverse is true. My neighborhood in Boston was easy. Everyone was named Baker (Bake-ah) and I was definitely the only Silverman. Everyone waves at each other. Everyone says hello. When the mailman dropped someone else's letter in your mailbox, you ran it over to the proper recipient personally. This does not really happen here in LA, but because my block has Boo Radley, we have become Boston-close.

Well tonight I really felt ashamed. Boo Radley had to move a car for street cleaning. Boo has to be somewhat wealthy - she's been highly successful in the entertainment world. She has a circa 1980 Volvo that is covered in nicks and bruises. Why? I don't know. Needless to say she had to move this crappy car for street cleaning. The car is completely shot. It's an automatic and the transmission has gone. Boo drove around the block tonight, pushing the car as it screamed. There is no way for me to accurately describe the noises that were coming from this poor Volvo. Rocket launching loud sounds of a dying machine. Everyone in my neighborhood came outside to see what was going on. Everyone held their ears - it was painfully loud.

Here's where the guilt comes in...

Nobody offered to help. Nobody, that is, except a stranger who happened to be driving by. We were all outside but nobody lifted a finger. If it had been anyone else's car we would have been a crew of good Samaritans. But it wasn't someone else. It was Boo. We watched from stoops and balconies, hiding behind landscaping, and did nothing. I felt guilty and ran across the street in my pink fuzzy slippers to offer to push - but when I got near the car I became frightened that the Volvo would explode so I aborted mission and ran back to my stoop with my tail between my legs.

Boo struggled for a half an hour with her screaming car and no one came to her aid. I am sure Boo's not a bad person. I'm thinking that she's just had a bad life - always being looked at - people always wanting something from her - thinking they know her 'cause they saw her in a movie...celebrity really isn't all it's cracked up to be - of this I am sure. I am very disappointed in myself. I should have helped. No wonder why she hates her neighbors...

I'm an ENFP...

2005-04-14T18:59:00.000-07:00

Take some of these tests - MUCH fun and scarily accurate... Similar Minds

Everything...

2005-04-14T17:28:00.000-07:00

hospital
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

This picture of my father and I napping in his hospital room was taken by a nurse shortly before my father's death. When the flash went off I opened my eyes to see a group of nurses and doctors with a Polaroid staring back at me crying.

To many folks, this picture is disturbing. People get very uncomfortable when they see it.

To me, this photo is...

everything.

It's a picture of me and the best friend I have ever had. The most outstanding friend a girl could ever hope for. I was so lucky that this remarkable friend was also my remarkable daddy.

It's a picture of the exhausting fight for my father's life - the time I was given to fight for him and along side him. Even though ultimately, we lost this battle, we got to fight a good fight...

together.

I miss him more and more every day but I know he's around here somewhere.

Thank you dad for being such a rock star.

I'm "hangin' in there."

Simply Punning...

2005-04-13T12:17:00.000-07:00

*GROAN*

I love to laugh.

I love listening to others laugh.

I think that the worst thing a person can lack is perspective, and the second worst is a sense of humor.

In my father's case, his killer sense of humor made the last few years of his life livable.

Dad never gave me very much advice. He was always supportive and had a lot of faith in my ability to make good choices for myself.

Because he gave advice so rarely when he did advise I hung on every word.

The last advice my father ever gave me was:

You should never again date a man who doesn't find Eddie Izzard "Dressed to Kill" hilarious.

He was dead serious.

He was dead right.

He actually said that I shouldn't even be friends with anyone that didn't "get" Eddie but I have had to relax on that a bit.

He was a bit of a humor snob, and I am noticing that I am too -
Because really, the only thing worse than having no sense of humor, is having a bad sense of humor. It's really so much worse.

Now, I know that humor is subjective, but this is my blog and these are my opinions.

There are so many different types of humor. Slapstick, sarcasm, dry, subtle, dirty...

It seems as if all types of humor can be good or bad, even bad humor, but some types of humor are hardly ever good.

The problem of puns...

Puns are hardly ever funny. For the most part, puns are followed by eye rolls - not laughter. It is so rare that a pun is laugh-out-loud funny or actually even clever, that I'm thinking it would be outstanding if puns could be outlawed for use with the obvious exception of witty business and product names.

The top 10 funny puns on Punoftheday.com as "as voted by visitors to this site" are:

1. I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me. 4.1 stars
2. He drove his expensive car into a tree and found out how the Mercedes bends. 4.1 stars
3. A grenade thrown into a kitchen in France would result in Linoleum Blownapart. 4.1 stars
4. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. 4.1 stars
5. A bicycle can't stand on its own because it is two-tired. 4.0 stars
6. Show me a piano falling down a mineshaft and I'll show you A-flat minor. 4.0 stars
7. A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat. 4.0 stars
8. When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds. 4.0 stars
9. Those who jump off a Paris bridge are in Seine. 4.0 stars
10. To write with a broken pencil is pointless.

This in my opinion illustrates two things...

1. Puns are not funny
2. People that go searching for puns online have a bad sense of humor (or are just searching for validation that puns suck...)

Here are some links to websites dedicated to punning. I think you will agree that other than poor design, they all have one thing in common. They are simply put:

Unfunny.

You decide...

Puns...
More Puns...
Even More Puns...
ENOUGH PUNS ALREADY!!!

If you don't agree by all means - let me have it.

Then go watch Eddie Izzard and tell me what you think...

Happy Friday...

2005-04-08T22:02:00.000-07:00

Ugh, T.G.I.F.

Josie...make it funny in the moment, please...it really is funny.

So today,

April 8th, 2005

I had my wallet stolen.

That makes three times in two years.

That's not funny...

I'm sorry, that's friggin' hilarious!

The cards are all canceled,

appointment @ the DMV for Friday,

I never really liked the wallet anyway,

If I really wanted anything to do with the people on those business cards I collected, I would have entered them into my palm,

I have been meaning to change my passport photo for a while now,

Didn't like my license photo much either...

Shiny new cards are on their way, aching for new debt.

Anyway - I ate some chocolate and I'm feelin' pretty good.

Whew!

2005-04-07T19:05:00.000-07:00

You Have Good Karma

In general, you like to do the right thing when it comes to others.

Your caring personality really shines through.

Sure, you have your moments of weakness - and occasionally act out.

But, all in all, you're karma is good... even with those few dark spots.

How's Your Karma?

South Central Garden...

2005-04-07T11:08:00.000-07:00

The South Central Garden is an amazing place. I have been working with them to help save the farm - South Central Garden

The South Central Farmers have been struggling for the last year and a half
to preserve 14 acres of community farmland at 41st and Alameda in South
Central Los Angeles- Seriously - a 14 acre farm @ 41st and Alameda! Currently, they are in a legal battle to save this oasis that feeds over 300 low income families - over 1,400 people! They work together, as a community, young, old, from all different countries, growing medicinal herbs, fruit, flowers and vegetables that are rare, nutritious, and beautiful. There is no drug problem among the youth of this community - the families work together closely and the kids assume responsibility within this community. It is an amazing social pod, thriving in the poorest community, surrounded by frustration and despair, these amazing people have grown life.
The stakeholders of South Central Los Angeles dearly need this green open space.

SO PLEASE...

South Central Farmers present:
Concert at the Farm

Sunday, April 17, 2005, come and join the South Central Farmers and Mezklah,
Domingo Siete, Quinto Sol, Fosforo, Kemit Qutob Shabazz, Najite, and others
for a Concert at the Farm.

Los Angeles, CA, March 29, 2005:

Who: The South Central Farmers present a free concert at the farm.
What: Free Concert at the Farm
Where: 41st and Alameda in South Central Los Angeles
When: Sunday April 17, 2005, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Why: Celebrating 13 years of farming in South Central Los Angeles. Survival
and Self-Defense.

Please join the South Central Farmers and the following performing acts:
Mezklah (Latin Alternative Drum and Bass)
Quinto Sol (Roots Reggae)
Fosforo (Drum and Bass)
Kemit Qutob Shabazz (Spoken Word)
Najite (African Drumming)
and Others

Come down and see for yourselves. I promise, you will be inspired.

Poem...

2005-04-06T23:34:00.000-07:00

Here is a poem
A message from someone
Looking in through a window while out in the night
Into somebody’s some-room
Filled with fragrance and light
And someone is up on a stage for display
For the dusk and shadows that’ll flee come the day
When faced with the spotlight
There are those that will hide
In the pantries and hallways
Rooms tucked deep inside
But it’s hard to see out
When you’re buried within
When you cling to the people,
The places you’ve been
But it’s time to come out
And to be unafraid
Of what people will think
Of mistakes that you’ve made
Step into the limelight
Step out on the floor
Seek out the night watchers who wait at your door
Step into the spotlight
You may be surprised
The watchers will all be impressed with your pride
Because people, they should see the things that you do
The sides of yourself that they never knew
There will always be those who won’t like what you say
But you’ve put yourself out there;
You’re out in the day!
You’re out in the streets;
You’re looking around
There are endless new things to see and be found.
And if someone should ever stand in your path
Just step right around them
Move onward, move past
It’s true; sometimes people can really be mean
But you’ll find the good ones,
Go see and be seen
It’s not worth retreating
And running to hide
‘Cause it’s lonely in here
While they’re all outside
So take the first step into fragrance and light
And maybe tomorrow step into the night
Aren’t you tired of feeling so blue?
This is a poem;
A message from you

Stress...

2005-04-06T17:29:00.000-07:00

A long, long time ago I was given a gift certificate for a back massage as a birthday gift. I have been waiting for a good day to do it but that day just hasn't surfaced. Today I walked by and figured - why not? It's not the perfect day for a massage because I have a lot to do but I have been feeling stressed and emotional lately and I figured a massage was long over due. The massage was excellent. I zoned out completely and for the first time in months, or years, I really couldn't tell you, I didn't feel stress in my body. When I was done I dressed and headed out to the reception area where my masseuse was waiting with a glass of water for her tip. AFTER she had been tipped she asks me:

Can I ask you a question?

You just did.

I said yes.

She says:

Did you recently lose a parent? Your Father?

Come on.

While I cannot say that her intuitiveness did not impress me, I think that both the time and place were completely inappropriate.

Did I mention that I have been stressed and emotional?

By asking me this question she instantly undid my hour massage.

Shoulders are like rock.

And I feel violated. I didn't go to a psychic - I went to a masseuse . And she didn't even have anything to tell me beyond that. It's not like she followed up with a:

Well, he's watching over you and he's really proud.

Nothing. Just curious. Just checking to see if her intuitiveness was accurate. No explanation what-so-ever. No:

I could tell because when a person's father dies they get a knot just under their trapezius.

Whatever. I am not impressed.

Good Friends...

2005-04-02T15:54:00.000-08:00

I am not afraid to sound like a sap.

I don't care if this post is trite or boring to everyone that reads it.

I just want to write, about how incredibly lucky I am to be surrounded by such an outstanding group of people.

Talented, eclectic, unique, clever, funny, warm, elevating, lovely people.

I am not a very confident person, but when I look at the people who choose to spend time around and energy on me, I really feel good about myself.

I must be doing something very right to have so many people of this caliber in my life.

I learn something every time I have contact with them.

I am a better person because of them.

They inspire me to be a better person.

And most of all...

They make me laugh.

They make me smile.

The past few months would have been hell with out all of you and the past few years,

Impossible.

Unsurviveable.

THANK YOU FOR BEING MY FRIENDS

Go figure...

2005-03-28T10:18:00.001-08:00

I did better than I thought I would...

You Are 55% Normal

(Somewhat Normal)

While some of your behavior is quite normal...

Other things you do are downright strange

You've got a little of your freak going on

But you mostly keep your weirdness to yourself

How Normal Are You?

Lame...

2005-03-22T16:40:00.000-08:00

Pink fuzzy slippers again...

My identity has really become wrapped up in these pink fuzzy slippers. I had two pair. The other day I lost one.

Not one pair, one slipper.

Now I have one and a half pairs of pink fuzzy slippers.

Don't know how I managed to lose one slipper - my house is a bit chaotic right now - I'm sure the lone slipper will turn up eventually.

So. I wear these slippers all the time. Not just around the house - I wear them everywhere - In my neighborhood I'm,

"That girl in the pink fuzzy slippers"

which, I know, is only slightly better than "the cat lady".

Anyhow, I went back to the fuzzy slipper store today to stock up - slippers don't last long when they're your everyday shoes.

The store no longer carries pink fuzzy slippers. They had some purple ones on clearance, so I bought them up.

They just aren't the same.

I am wearing them now and my legs feel...

Dead.

So I googled "pink fuzzy slippers" and searched for over an hour...

Many fuzzy slippers, many of them pink - but none of them quite the same breed of fuzzy or the same fun of pink.

Much more fluffy than fuzzy...

more pink-y than pink.

I'm not sure what to do about this...

it is completely unacceptable.

I have been told numerous times, and agree wholeheartedly, if it is not on google, it does not exist.

I searched by:

"Pink Fuzzy Slippers"

"Pink Slippers"

"Fuzzy Slippers"

and, of course,

"Pink Fuzzy"
(I don't suggest trying that search...)

I should have bought 'em all up while I had the chance and now they're...

GONE

"

On dating...

2005-03-19T21:19:00.000-08:00

So I met a guy.

He was cute, so cute, charming, oozed charm, and the reason I have decided to take a break from dating for a while. I don't know if its that I don't trust other people, or I don't trust myself but this last one is, if nothing else, a really funny story.

Men. They are really amazing sometimes.

So this guy takes me out and was the perfect gentleman. He was interested, attentive, charming, and he laughed at my jokes even though I had a sneaking suspicion he didn't really get them.

He was gorgeous and I was a dumb girl.

He fell for me that first night - honked his horn, flashed his lights and pulled me over because he "Had to kiss me."

How romantic.

Ugh. I should have known.

Now, I really want to avoid sounding bitter because really, I'm not. It's just - well...

It's just, you want things to turn out the way you dream it will and its so rare that it ever does.

I really wanted to like this guy.

He called the next day and had to see me. He chatted up my friends and played terrible pool with great humor. He gave me a sweet kiss goodnight and really, I felt nothing.

Ugh. I really wanted to feel something.

Maybe I knew - maybe I can trust myself.

Maybe I should just trust me a little sooner.

Day three - two calls by 11am - strange.

I let it go to voicemail. I was working. By five, two more calls.

The guy really likes me?

My first response to positive male attention kicks in:

He really likes me. What's wrong with him?

I shake it off -

"I'm great!"

But somewhere inside I saw the red flag. I know I did because I never told my friends about the frequent phone calls.

On day four, call three, he actually asked to meet my family. I became concerned.

"I'm not that great"

I arranged to meet him for lunch to talk about the rapid pace he was setting.

This was not a race.

We never made it to lunch.

The night of day five there was an unexpected knock at the door.

Thursday night.

11pm.

Unannounced, he stood, on my doorstep, drunk.

Lovely.

He had driven his car, drunk, to see me.

How romantic. This guy was sweeping me off my feet.

What follows is hard to believe but true, I swear.

I let him in - couldn't let him drive...

"You're drunk."

"No I'm not. I never get drunk"

"You just walked into a wall"

"No I did not."

"Uh, Ok, well - I am going to go to sleep - I have had a long day. You should really crash out too..."

He stumbles around a bit and analyzes a crack in the wall plaster...

"I just need to sit here for a few minutes - "

He slumps onto the couch.

"You ok? you need anything?"

"No, I just need to sit here a minute"

Uhuh, ok, he's passing out - good. I excused myself and went to bed, leaving him on the couch to pass out 'till morning.

At 1am I heard him vomit.

Now, it wasn't really a shock that he was vomiting - but the origin of the vomit noises were coming from my living room...and they kept coming.

I put on my fuzzy slippers and padded into the living room to see him crouched on all fours, vomiting on my rug.

"Are you ok?" - exasperated. I know, stupid question, but really - what to say?

"No." - charming smile.

Ugh.

"You drove like this. Drunk. You could have killed yourself or some innocent person just crossing the street. This is not cool."

Outside for a cigarette. He joins me.

"You know, I feel bad and embarrassed enough - you don't need to lay a guilt trip on me"

Seriously.

"Excuse me?"

Bonus*It was here that I found the humor in a crappy situation while it was happening! Thanks dad!*

"I already feel bad and you have to give me shit about drunk driving...and its not that I'm drunk - its the way everything hit my stomach. I think I have a virus or something."

That, seriously, is a direct quote.

"Are you kidding me? I have done nothing wrong here - do not turn this around on me."

"Well I'm not drunk."

"You know, there are two options here. You think I am stupid, or you are far stupider than I thought you were. If you feel like your going to throw up and you're not drunk - you would at least be heading to the bathroom. You wouldn't just roll on your side and vomit off the end of the couch onto the floor. I have been a human for twenty-nine years and I know that if I was so sick I was walking into walls - I sure as hell wouldn't have the energy or nerve to pick a fight with a girl I just met after vomiting on her rug."

"Whatever."

Lovely.

He tries to clean the floor and I excuse myself again - just need to sleep - end this experience.

An hour later he crawls into my bed...a man I had only kissed before. Vomits on my floor and then climbs into my bed - no, he's not drunk...

I get up and move to the guest room.

He comes in at 5am, kisses me on the cheek and leaves.

When I wake in the morning - the house smells of vomit and alcohol and the rug is still there.

I start cleaning frantically.

Brunch with the crew. They took it well. We all had a good laugh. Its pure comedy.

He calls

"I am so sorry. I think I have a really bad virus or something...when can I pick up the rug? I'll take it to the cleaners."

A really bad virus.

He came to get the rug. He brought flowers.

The rug will be ready on Monday.

Who's dumber - he or I?

Don't answer that - it doesn't really matter - it makes a great story. I'm glad I have it. I don't really know what else to say about it except for...

"THE END"

Life Observations...

2005-03-17T17:04:00.000-08:00

I have been having a lot of good ideas recently. I'm thinking it's dad - I'm channeling Larry.

It's all very exciting but equally sad. Part of me wants to fail - 'cause being a success without him around to be proud seems pointless. It's so strange! I really feel that! Wow.

Why do the opinions of others effect me so damn much. It is truly embarrassing. I'm disgusted.

So here's how I've been feeling the past few days...

Drivin' down the road...long, long, road...long, long journey...

I LOVE to drive. Love it.

But I'm not driving.

I never get to drive.

I sit on the passenger side, finding CD's, and lighting cigarettes for the driver. I read the maps, and take the lids off soda bottles.

I search for ziplock bags of cheerios and organize games of license plate BINGO to appease the restless people in the back seat.

I don't even get a minute to look out the window.

If I had to pee - I would wait patiently, to the point of pain, for someone else to have to pee too and request a pit stop.

And I have.

Many, many times.

Poor me right?

WRONG!

It is up to me to take that time for myself. To tell everyone I need a moment of silence.

Get it yourself.

...or at least pretend to be sleeping...

Too much time, I spend trying to keep everyone comfortable, putting other's people's comfort before my own, feeling like a failure until someone else is proud, terrified to upset someone, living in fear of dissapointing someone, dreading situations and conversations in which someone could get angry with me. Everyone! Please like me! Tell me I am great!

How utterly depressing. The whole point of this blog was to get rid of that person. New Year's resolution was to leave that person at an Oklahoma truckstop. It's already March...I better ditch this looser before the first of spring.

Stop this car! I want out! I would so rather walk!

Or let me drive for a while. I am a really good driver!

UGH!

Thank God It's...Thursday...sigh.

Sunshine...

2005-03-13T18:36:00.000-08:00

flower power
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

Just want to bring a little sunshine into this blog - after all - I started this little writing exercise with the intention of finding the humor in ALL of life - because even the worse things can be funny @ times.

"The worst thing you can lose in life is perspective." My uncle said it and I think it's genius.

I had a great week - not everything that happened was great - but the bad things were immediately funny so the week was a success.

It feels great to be full of sunshine on a cloudy Sunday, curled on the couch with a mug of tea. (actually it's this morning's coffee, microwaved, but the tea sounds cozier...)

"Let the sun shine..."

Is it June yet?

When daddy cried...

2005-03-05T22:12:00.000-08:00

My father. Again.

*a disclaimer - this is not a happy post.

I have written briefly in the past about my father's positive outlook on life. His ability to look at a bad situation in a positive light, to remain calm in a stressful situation by essentially not really recognizing the stress at all. He (almost) always had a smile on his face. He (almost) always seemed happy. He was so good at it no one will ever know if he really felt it.

My father was and always will be my hero. I look up to him in countless ways. This does not mean he was perfect.

Dad had an instinctive talent for making and losing money in massive quantities. Money really didn't matter. Making it was really just an unexpected consequence, and losing it done in a very off-handed, absent minded professor kind of way.

He loved to work. He was an idea man and his life was driven by the need to explain the thoughts in his head until they were realized by the world around him, and was, as a result, responsible for a few substantial shifts. Once he had seen his industry grab the idea...

New idea...
New industry...
New challenge...

New life for everyone around him. Usually meant new financial situation, new house, new town, new school...

Following the dream. Larry the nomad.

At the end of his life my father was battling a debilitating illness, feeling, physically, at most times, as if he were suffocating. This did not stop him from dreaming. He was working on marketing an exciting new technology to the entertainment industry. He worked on this project for the last 6 years of his life, the longest amount of time he had ever devoted to any one idea.

...there's no context here...

My father was penniless. He was dying. He needed a $300,000 lung transplant. He had no insurance. His social security payments were so high from all the money he made and lost in the past, that the state insurance he received for being disabled demanded an 85% monthly deductible leaving him with $450 dollars to pay for 6 essential prescriptions not covered by the government that totaled $1,400/month. I paid his rent and eventually moved him into my studio where he slept on an air mattress for 4 months on oxygen 24 hours a day. He went to the doctor's for a check up, was put in the hospital, and sat there for 4 months until he died Christmas morning. On the 17th of December he made a meeting to consult on a university business curriculum half way across the state for "after the holidays." He just never quit.

Back to the exciting technology. He had a partner pull the rug out from under him. They had a deal with major revenue potential. Transplant money potential but we never really spoke of that. The bids were in and his partner got greedy, substituting his own inflated pricing plan without consulting my father or his other partner. They were made to look like greedy fools - and there was no way to charm his way back into the deal. The partner said..."Sorry."

We were sitting at a yuppie filled restaurant waiting for our bowls of oatmeal and he tried to tell me. He tried to tell me what happened but he couldn't - he ran out crying. He didn't want me to see it. He was humiliated. He felt embarrassed, he felt like a failure, he felt hopeless, he felt guilty for burdening me with any of it. He was terrified. I ran after him and hugged him, both of us weeping. I knew at that moment that his life was over. He didn't give up - tried to resurrect, tried to launch something new. But I knew the transplant money was gone. And I think, at that moment, he knew it too. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. I was 28. It was a year before he died but the moment we said goodbye...and we never really said it.

Three things...

2005-03-02T13:20:00.000-08:00

My lost twin Gingerbrew posted her "Three things" Here are mine...

It would be great if you can share your list of three things too.

Three things that never fail to make me laugh
1. Eddie Izzard "Dressed to Kill"
2. Life's twists & turns
3. The Daily Show

Three things that always annoy me
1. LA drivers in a drizzle
2. my phone ringing... and ringing...
3. Daylight savings time

Three things I didn't much care for but can't live without now
1. Computers
2. Flip-flops
3. Blogging!

Three things i used to like but don't much care for now:
1. Friendster
2. Ice Cream
3. 24

Three things I like and always will
1. Coffee
2. Laughing
3. XOXO

Aloha...

2005-03-02T13:11:00.000-08:00

P2260007
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

I've been away for a while...off in Hawaii for a wedding and a much needed break from the world. It was only 5 days but it felt like the peace that follows a long awaited yawn...

*Yawn*

(did you yawn?)

Bad Boys

2005-02-17T20:43:00.000-08:00

Everyone makes mistakes.

Learn and move on.

But what do you do when one follows you?
What do you do, when you come around the corner, and your mistake is there to slap you across the face, every so often, and always, when you need it least.

How do you keep your sense of humor? Because really, without humor, life would be completely unacceptable.

My father was a genius at finding the humor in a bad, or even fatal, situation. I guess, in my case, I am going to just have to channel him. I am going to have to actually picture my dad pretend to die in his hospital bed when the nurse gave him a new medication. Seriously. Pretend to die, tongue hanging out of his mouth, just to have a laugh with the nurse. I am positive that his humor was equal parts defense mechanism and genuine amusement, but if you are going to defend yourself - isn't that the way to go? I have it a bit, but can you learn to be better at that? I want to be that good.

When you look back @ things, it's easy to see the humor but I want to figure out how to find these things funny in the moment.

I want to laugh at all my mistakes.

Why won't they go away?

Dr. Telesh

2005-02-15T11:13:00.000-08:00

Kimmy&Josie
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

This morning, I would like to send some positive energy in the direction of my dearest friend Kim Telesh.

Kim is essentially a super hero who, today is taking on one of her great nemesises, the job interview.

The job interview is a very crafty villain who is not strong so he uses his power of manipulation to psych out his adversaries. He creates self doubt, shallow breathing, and in many cases, sweat, hoping to thwart his opponent's attempts to appear confident.

Kim has all the super powers neccesarry to completely slaughter the job interview and I think she knows it. She is 210% qualified and I have no doubt in my mind she will provail.

So Dr. Telesh - go forth and seize your destiny! May the force be with you!

Big Daddy Matty

2005-02-15T02:26:00.000-08:00

Matty
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

Matty is the best thing I've ever found in a bar.

That includes the hundred dollar bill I found on the floor @ the Beer Garden, and the Channel sunglasses that became mine after sitting for three months in the lost and found basket of the Riverside Bar and Grill.

Matty is better than both of those things... Play Matty anyway.

The jury's still out on Work Matty.

The jury's still out, because you wont find Work Matty at a bar...but Work Matty will be the first to remind you that Work Matty's still better than your average person.

Right now Matty's working. We don't see him much. He occasionally stops by or drops a line but when he's working - it's more like the suggestion of Matty. This would not upset me so much if Matty wasn't the coolest person in LA but, he is. He might even be the coolest person I know.

He might even be perfect...

if he could only learn how to play pool - we are looking for a challenge here buddy!

Ah, Matty...he's chicken soup.

Adjacent.

2005-02-14T23:51:00.000-08:00

Please allow me a moment to just vent about something petty that will forever annoy me about Los Angeles...

How could you live in a neighborhood called "Beverly Hills Adjacent?"

"Were do you live?"

"Beverly Hills Adjacent"

"Beverly Hills Adjacent?"

"It's right near Beverly Hills."

Come on.

Do you know what would happen to a person who said they lived Brooklyn Adjacent?

Beat down.

LA's such a pansy.

Yours disgruntled,

me
-Weho Adjacent

Once upon a time...

2005-02-14T23:40:00.000-08:00

There were a pair of Portuguese water dogs named Papercuts and Lemonjuice. They lived in LA, actually, WEHO Adjacent, with an actor's assistant, and a website designer.

Their house was small, but the four got on quite well, and life was both happy and hectic.

I used to live next store to them but the neighborhood was getting a bit expensive so I moved into the Valley to save a little cash. I'm still over there all the time.

Their house was always a flutter with activity, comings and goings at all hours and much laughter in between.

The assistant and the designer were jovial folks. They loved big laughs and had positive outlooks on the world around them.

Papercuts and Lemonjuice were quite the opposite. They were both worriers, king and queen "what if?", always the voices of reason.

Their inability to cut loose created quite a juxtaposition within the household but it was a balanced equation.

Anyway, like I said, I used to spend a lot of time over there - just sitting on the couch observing the circus.

Every night they'd order Thai food and pizza and every night the cast of characters would change. Same food, new faces. I knew right away I had to be a regular.

I was brought into the circus after meeting Lemonjuice at the dumpster behind my apartment building. He was standing there debating whether or not to eat the half eaten Big Mac that had been tossed, and missed the dumpster. It was partially wrapped and lying on the ground in a puddle of what appeared to be anti-freeze.

"Is it really garbage if it never actually made it into a garbage can?" He asked without looking up from the burger.

"No, not garbage. Worse. Litter. I wouldn't eat it." I replied and we both nodded our heads.

He slowly turned around and looked at me as if he had just noticed I was there.

"Hello," he addressed me calmly, "my name is Lemonjuice. It is not in my nature to speak to strangers but I think we have a lot in common. I make bad things worse. You do too!"

He seemed to have no idea that this was an insult so I tried not to be insulted.

"Why do you like to make bad things worse" I asked, hoping I wasn't returning the insult. He tossed head back to move his curly fur away from his eyes and addressed me coolly.

"It is not," he was offended, "that I like to make things worse, it is my duty to show how much worse things can be."

How dreary - I thought to myself, but I couldn't take my eyes off this dog. Not only was he speaking to me as if he were human, but I had the profound feeling that his intelligence far exceeded my own. I could learn a lot from this dog.

"Where do you live?" I asked him - knowing full well he lived in the circus across the street having spent many nights watching the people parade in and out of the house, wishing I was one of them.

"Right over there, across the street." He responded casually waving a paw it the house's direction. "Would you like to meet my family?"

"YES!" He looked a bit taken aback by my enthusiasm. "I mean, yes, I would love to meet your family."

He lowered his eyebrows, considered me for a very long moment and said:

"Please throw the burger away and follow me."

I was in! I would finally be a part of all the activity - the circus across the street! I was equal parts excited and nervous and to be honest, I found Lemonjuice to be creepy as hell, but loneliness and curiosity overruled. I wanted to be part of the fun.

He glanced over his shoulder at me as he pawed at the door knob. "Welcome home," he said, "please leave your ego at the door."

The issue of curls...

2005-02-13T23:11:00.000-08:00

As if freckles were not enough...there were also curls, or as I have affectionately and collectively come to know them, "the beast."

The beast and I were born at the same instant, on a chilly November morning long, long ago. I fought and screamed but the beast was silent, lounging peacefully like a serpent on the crest of my wrinkled head.

I was addressed first-

"It's a girl!"

and then the beast-

"Look! Red curly hair!"

This would be the last time I would be acknowledged before the beast. It is my cuter sibling always having it's cheeks pinched. They fawn over the beast and then turn to me and ask if I know how lucky I am to have it in my life.

Sometimes I answer with a simple: " Yes, thank you."

Sometimes I try to get them to take it: "You want it?" but they always think I'm joking.

The truth is that the beast is lucky to have me. It would never have survived this long without my cooperation and dedication.

I digress...

For the first few years of our lives the beast and I lived in harmony. We pretty much ignored each other - went about our own business. As we both grew, the beast would relentlessly tickle my forehead, annoying, but all in good fun.

Time went on.

The beast was growing fast now, and rather unruly. My mother would round it up and fasten it in a plastic hair clip. The beast would fight 'er off, digging it's heals into my scalp, slowly escaping though out the day.

I tried to ignore it but the larger it grew, the meaner it got. By the time I was six - the beast was just plain nasty and my mother was beginning to see that it was the trouble child. After our nightly bath I would dry off and be ready for bed. The beast had other plans...

"NO! You will sit here while mom tries to comb me for hours, with only a useless bottle of "No More Tangles" to aid her. I will pull mercilessly on your scalp, holding on for dear life. During this time, I would ask you to please not cry because we don't want the neighbors to call the police for a domestic disturbance again..." The beast was bossy and out of control.

I would lie awake every night, bruised head resting gingerly on my pillow, thinking up ways to solve the problem of the beast.

I tried gum but mom got it out with peanut butter and ice.

I tried a self trim but that didn't go over well. I needed to solve the problem of the beast without risking my cookie privileges in the process...

and then it hit me -

The Perfect Plan...

Be careful what you wish for... Day One

2005-02-11T13:42:00.000-08:00

Puberty is the longest four-letter-word in the English dictionary.

As a little girl you dreamily await it's arrival...
You read "Are You There God, It's me Margaret?" and chant "We must, we must, we must increase our busts..." at slumber parties with the rest of your flat-chested friends, flapping your elbows back and forth with your fists tucked into your armpits...

Seriously, girls really do this.

My personal experience with puberty was a little different than most. It started five years earlier than anyone I knew, and lasted about twenty minutes. It was not slow and gradual. I was a child in June of the fourth grade and a woman by September.

My mother went away for a weekend to visit some friends. I was looking forward to bonding with my dad - maybe roller skating in the park. I woke up Sunday morning with my period. I was nine. I had no idea what it was and was completely unprepared as was my father. I ran into his room sobbing. Even though I had been waiting for it - it never occurred to me that I had started my period. I thought I was dying and so did dad.

So dad scooped me up in his arms, ran me out to a cab and off to the emergency room. No lie - I wish it was. We sat in the waiting room for hours - me crying softly, very frightened, and my father in full on hysterics running up to the front desk every few minutes to try and highlight the severity of our situation.

The doctor took a full three minutes to hand my father a sanitary napkin and announce, "Your daughter has her period"

A humiliating experience - and pretty harsh for me as well...

That was day one.

The gift of dyslexia...

2005-02-10T14:44:00.000-08:00

Did you know...

That "STRESSED" is "DESSERTS" spelled backwards?

No wonder a chocolate brownie is the antidote to crabbiness!

Matthijs

2005-02-09T22:04:00.000-08:00

P1200003_1
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

Matthijs is gone. I miss him.

- Got on a plane this afternoon, flew back to Amsterdam and left me here...

So - here's a shout out to my favorite roommate Matthijs - come home soon...

and send stroopwaffels!

MWAH!

Freckles are Funky - The Trilogy Part 2 - Denial

2005-02-09T10:14:00.000-08:00

It is next to impossible to keep a low profile when you have red hair & freckles. Red heads account for about 4% of the world population... and 78% of red heads have freckles - so there's not many of us...

I would like to take a little time to talk about my path to freckle acceptance.

When you're a kid - you just want to be like everyone else. You don't want to be special, because special means weird in the playground. You want to have blond or brown hair that lies flat and isn't greasy and skin that tans in the sun.

The grass is always greener does not apply in childhood. Well, not to red hair and freckles anyway. No child wants red hair. They don't come home from school crying, saying - "Mommy I wish I had red hair like Josie so everyone would call me Bozo and throw sticks at me at recess!"

And Freckles - what a nightmare. Even Barbie's red haired friend Midge by Matel has ivory freckleless skin. And straight hair.

Don't even get me started on the issue of curls...

So when you are a red headed, freckled child you spend much of your time trying to be like everybody else. You systematically deny the presence of your physical rarities and make a conscious, yet pitiful attempt to be "normal."

"Mr. Douglass, three children from your school stole 37 cents of penny candy from my shop this morning...three girls - one was wearing blue, one had brown hair, and one had red hair and freckles."

Great

Needless to say - it's difficult to blend in to the crowd when your head is on fire...

I NEVER got away with ANYTHING.

So life went on like that for quite some time and my friends reaped the benefits of me being the sore thumb, while I learned quickly the benefit of being tight lipped in the principal's office.

What a drag.

I did, however, get the opportunity to prove my loyalty as a friend. I refused to rat out my accomplices resulting in a substantial popularity spike. Every clique needs a scapegoat. Everyone has their role... I had to accept my freckles, and my future as the fall guy.

Freckles are Funky?

Blog Intentions...

2005-02-08T01:26:00.000-08:00

1. To exercise the skill of finding the humor in life. I want to laugh at everything. I want to laugh hysterically at myself. I encourage all digs - I need to lighten up.

2. To shed the ego - it holds me back - I've had enough.

3. To work through that shit I've been ignoring. It's not going to just disappear.

4. To do something for myself.

5. To learn to type...and maybe spell.

6. To have some fun.

Simple.

*Please be advised that many of my posts will be only LOOSELY BASED on reality - 'cause I don't want to piss anyone off...

:)

Pink Fuzzy Slippers...

2005-02-07T23:04:00.000-08:00

fuzzy slippers
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

not sure what I used to do without them. I am 100% reliant on my Pink Fuzzy Slippers. The best $9.99 I've spent in years - I bought two pairs so I can be seamlessly pink slippered when one pair needs a wash.

Jeffrey the wonder boy took this photo...I made it silly on photoshop...

Freckles are Funky - The Trilogy

2005-02-07T22:23:00.000-08:00

Freckles!

In the first grade, Bobby Sax told me freckles were cooties. So when talk of cooties would arise in the recess yard I would stand very still so they wouldn’t notice that I was covered in the things. Just stay out of it.

Bobby also told me my Cracker-Jack temporary tattoo would only stick to my skin if I ate some hand soap first.

Yes. Yes I did – thanks for asking.

It was a blessing to move around a lot as a child. Got to start over and over. New friends, new school… Nobody here knows me as "soapsuds" – here they call me "SUNSHINE" – really! I think I like it here.

The nicknames were left behind a grade, but the freckles came everywhere with me.

I remember the first day of school was always exciting. People would come back from their summer breaks an inch taller with a fresh haircut and a cool new T-shirt. I would show up with more, darker freckles and the same frizzy braids. I could have been dressed in a garbage bag– no one ever looked past my red headed-ness.

“Carrot’s in my home room and she has a buh-zillion more freckles than last year!”

What happened to “Sunshine?” I was doing so well…

In the 3rd grade my mamma threw something else my way.

The T-shirt. Every kid needs to have a new t-shirt for the first day of school.

It was yellow, bright yellow, and on the front, a line drawn smiley face with freckles, red curls, and the words:

“FRECKLES ARE FUNKY!”

Is she trying to get me killed?

In the 3rd grade, the only thing that was more bizarre than my spotted body and orange hair was the fact I had the stupidity to wear this garment out of the house.

Couldn’t mom have pulled this before, when none of my classmates could read?

It’s just not nice.

All I could do was pray for a growth spurt that would render the t-shirt obsolete. *

*A future post on that coming soon {be careful what you wish for...}

Freckles are Funky - The Shirt

2005-02-07T21:24:00.000-08:00

Freckles are Funky
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

Hewins Sunset - In Deep Thought...

2005-02-07T15:26:00.000-08:00

Hewinssunset1
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

Wish I was right here.

Welcome to sunny California...I found a dandelion in front of my house this morning, the 7th of February. There is something unnatural about it - there should be snow on the ground, and it should be 6:09 pm - living in a never ending summer with a three hour deficit - is this keeping me young?

Is this sunset perfect? Not postcard perfect but come around the corner "oh-my-g-d I can't believe the world works like this" beautiful. I will take a Berkshire winter sunset over a California sunny day, any day.

Jo @ pool #4
Originally uploaded by josiebeth.

Here I am, in California. This is what I look like when I think - which has been rarely these days. I guess I need a blog to start up my inner dialogue...get the thoughts flowing again...

Might as well start with a bang...

2005-02-06T16:00:00.000-08:00

This post is for my father...and for myself because I'm thinking that I might as well just get it out. I am sure this will be a very recurring theme.

Larry and I...

Wow. This is hardly the way I thought I would start sorting through the dad situation - online for everyone to see. I don't really like to be looked at physically - but I have much more confidence in what's inside so I really, upon consideration, have no fear spilling it out into cyberspace.

My father died on Christmas morning, around 8:30. My phone rang early and my first reaction to the chimes of my restricted number ringtone was aggravation - "8:30 in the morning on Christmas. Come on. Who are these people?" And then, before I reached for the phone, I knew.

No, I knew before that. The most valuable thing my father ever gave me was the ability to find humor in any situation. As I drove like a shuttle to and from LAX shipping all the people I knew in LA home to their families for Christmas, or off to bake in the Caribbean sun, I knew. I knew he would die on a day like Christmas, I knew dad would have seen the humor in it - the more tragic it was. "I would die on Christmas..." Good thing we're Jewish. But somehow, I'm thinking that if dad died on Hanukkah I wouldn't have felt nearly as shafted. Who the hell knows.

I do feel shafted. I lost my daddy and my best friend in the same second. That's not completely true but it's another post entirely. It's hard to maintain a friendship while being thrown over a cliff you know...

That's enough right now...baby steps.

Day One...

2005-02-05T00:31:00.000-08:00

What a strange thing to do - starting a blog. It makes it seem as if I feel I have something interesting to say to the world - "Hey, over here! Listen to me!" I'm not sure I do but I might as well practice my typing...

It will be soft and cuddly and I will call it...

FRECKLES ARE FUNKY...

the blog.

This is really ridiculous...I hope this thing has spell check...Whew!