Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

The life and times of a girl named Swishy.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Multiple-choice test

I haven't written a good and proper blog post the past few days because I've been too busy:

a) attending the wedding of Khloe Kardashian (yes, I caught the bouquet, and OH, YES were Kim and Kourtney pissed about it).

b) being booked at the police station for reckless something or other after flipping out on the passive-aggressive man driving 15 mph in front of me on a 35 mph road. For, like, TEN MINUTES.

c) cashing my lottery check and heading off to Bora Bora.

d) watching the copious amounts of television I managed to accumulate on my DVR after just one week of the new season. (OK, spoiler alert: I WISH THIS WERE TRUE. But so far Modern Family gets a thumbs up, and so does this season of The Biggest Loser even though it makes me cry and makes me feel guilty for eating my turtle Chex Mix. Grey's Anatomy, on the other hand, gets a "I really, really think I'm done this time ... for real." I had to see poor George's funeral, though!)

e) luxuriating at the spa and swimming in a tub of chocolate BECAUSE I'M WORTH IT.

f) I can't remember. Not so much in the "waking up on the couch of a dashing stranger" way but more of a "Where did Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday GO?!?" kind of way.

Correct answer gets a prize. :) Happy Monday, everyone!

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Happy, happy Emmy day!

You know Emmy day is a big day around here (see exhibits A, B and C) but this Emmy day might be the biggest of them all. Not because of who's nominated (where is Friday Night Lights?!?) or because of who's wearing what (the red carpet hasn't even started yet), but because this year, I have a very special Emmy guest. An Emmy guest named ... Emmy. Yes, THAT Emmy. I have a friend who has won a couple (JEALOUS MUCH? NO, NOT ME!) and he very kindly offered to let Emmy come over for the Emmys.

Emmy and I have had a very action-packed 24 hours together. First, we had to rest up for the big show.

And then make the Emmy party food:

Of COURSE, we had to primp:

Best dressed or worst dressed?

Ready to watch the red carpet!

(Back with the live blog in a bit!)


6:07: Ryan's hair is a bit tall. Still not tall enough to make HIM look tall, though (Heidi Klum is totally towering over him!).

6:13: Oooh, Giuliana's wearing her ring again! I guess I'll have to take back my Giuliana and Bill divorce rumors.

6:21: Christina Hendricks has a smoking body (apparently, I'm a 12-year-old boy). But seriously! She's like a human hourglass!

6:32: I say this every year, but I LOVE MARISKA HARGITAY!

6:47: Did you know it was hot in L.A. today? It's hot in L.A. today. Everyone is sweating. Ryan's sweating, that girl Kaley Cuoco is sweating ... CAN WE PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT ALL THE SWEATING???

7:08: What is with E!'s vampire obsession? Twilight and True Blood, I get it, I get it. Can we go back to the sweating?

7:27: Oh, Kristen Wiig. Such an unfortunate dress.

8:01: What a weird introduction. But here's Neil Patrick Harris singing!

8:03: "She could turn a gay guy straight ... oh, wait, there's Jon Hamm!"

8:12: I TOTALLY DO NOT GET THE GLASSES THING. Like, at all. What am I missing?

8:13: Aww, Kristin Chenoweth. She's cute.

8:27: Nice sweater vest, Jon Cryer. Funny first line, though!

8:35: Justin Timberlake wears glasses when he is SERIOUS Justin. (Not surprised about Toni Collette. OK, a little surprised.) (Second sad face in a row! First Rainn Wilson, now Mary Louise Parker! Usually they cover it up better.)

8:52: It is hard to type with Turtle Chex Mix on your fingers.

8:57: I am a sucker for a good little dance routine. I think Karina and Maks should go make out in a corner now and rekindle their romance.

9:00: Awww, Probst. I was going to rip on him for not wearing a tie, but it actually looked kind of disheveled/hot. And he gave a good speech. And he has really, REALLY great dimples. In fact, I'd like to take a bubble bath in those dimples now, please.

9:23: Dorky Emmy note: I like the way they've reordered the show by genre (all the comedy awards, then all the reality awards, then all the miniseries awards). I feel like it moves at a better pace this way. Added bonus: Since I know the miniseries awards are going to take up the next 20 minutes, I can pee and practice my fake acceptance speech with my borrowed Emmy in the bathroom mirror!

10:19: Drama montage. My friend: "If Friday Night Lights was on HBO, it would be nominated in every category." SO TRUE.

10:35: A belated yay for Michael Emerson and awww for Patrick Swayze, Bea Arthur and Co.

10:36: I am totally platonically spooning with Emmy on the couch right now.

10:50: Boooooo, I wanted Michael C. Hall to win. And I seriously think Jon Hamm was about to start crying, bless his heart.

10:58: What's with the Leno slam, Tina Fey? He didn't take your time slot!

11:01: Dexter or Lost, Dexter or Lost--booooooooooo. I have tried watching Mad Men. I have TRIED. And I JUST DON'T GET IT. It moves SO FREAKING SLOW!

And it's a wrap. Emmy and I are off to crash some very exclusive VIP parties (translation: read all the backstage gossip) ... happy Monday, everyone!

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Randomness all around

A few very random, nonsensical stories from my week to make up for my lack of blogging (long post alert!):

*** So, I'm driving home from book club a few nights ago at like 1:30 a.m. I'm behind another car in a left-turn lane. The light turns green but the car doesn't move, and we miss the light. A minute or two later, the light turns green again, and he's STILL not moving. I honk a little. Nothing. I honk again. Nothing. I LEAN on the horn. We miss the light. I get fed up and flip around to go the other way.

But then I'm like, crap, what if something's wrong, so I turn around again and go back to the intersection. I pull up next to him, and I can see him slumped over the wheel, so I jump out of my car and start knocking on his window to wake him up. Nothing. I try the door. Nothing. Now, I'm like, OK, SHOOT, what do I do? Do I call 911? Does this count as an emergency? Will I be arrested for abusing the system? I don't want to go to jail! Should I call the police department? I think I see a cop down the street, should I just go get him? Should I just keep knocking until he wakes up? WHAT DO I DO?

I decide to call 911. I go to my car to get my phone, and another guy pulls up behind us. I run over to tell him, look, you're gonna have to go around this guy, he's asleep and I've been trying to wake up him and now I'm calling the cops. He happens to work as a private security officer and has his radio with him, so he's like, here, I'll call dispatch. Two minutes later, we have FOUR cop cars and two EMTs in the intersection (plus my car, still running with the door hanging open in the middle of the street).

So the cops start pounding on the window with their flashlights, and he doesn't move. They get their lock thingies and try to unlock the door, and can't get it open. Then the paramedic looks in and is like, guys, I don't know if he's breathing, we need to break the window. So they smash the back window and he STILL doesn't wake up, and I'm like HOLY CRAP, what if he's dead, that will be so incredibly freaky, and the guy next to me is like, maybe he's in a diabetic coma, and I'm like, maybe he had a stroke or a heart attack, and he's like, maybe he had an allergic reaction, a really bad one. And back and forth we go.

Well. Apparently our friend in the black Explorer did not have a heart attack or a stroke, he had about 18 Jack and Cokes and was merely inebriated to the point of total nonresponsiveness. The cop took down our info, thanked us for our call and sent us on our merry way.

(Later, when I told people, they were like, YOU ARE INSANE. DO NOT GO UP TO PEOPLE LIKE THAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, THEY COULD KILL YOU. And here I was just worried about 911 etiquette.)

*** So this guy at work is in a band, and we went to this bar to see him play the other night. And there are two women dancing next to me, and all of a sudden one of them grabs my arm and points. "WHOOPI!" she cries.

She's pointing at this woman:

And, yes, the resemblance was impressive, striking even, but the funniest part to me was that this woman said nothing else, just grabbed my arm and yelled, "WHOOPI!" And now I have to keep fighting the urge to point off into the distance and yell "WHOOPI!!!" for no reason other than it makes me laugh.

*** I finally went to the dentist here, not so much because I'm concerned about my oral health but because I want to do Crest Whitestrips and I want to put those little strips in the best position to succeed by giving them super-clean teeth to work with. So I go, and they give me the "new patient" paperwork to fill out, and there's this whole huge medical history section. And maybe it's just been a while since I've filled out that kind of thing, but oh, my goodness, nosy much, Mr. Dentist? There were SO MANY things on there! The best is that it asks in about 16 different places whether you've had an STD. Like, OK, you said no the first time, but wait! We're going to ask you about VENEREAL diseases now! And herpes! And chlamydia! Like they're going to trick you into finally saying yes. The whole thing was just awkward. (P.S. They scraped the living hell out of my teeth and apparently I have a teeny, tiny cavity in between two of my back teeth, that maybe doesn't HAVE to be filled but should be, so I have to go back in two weeks. NOT THRILLED. Especially since my old dentist had cable and this one doesn't. It is SO much more palatable to have someone sticking drills and sharp objects in your mouth if you can watch Access Hollywood while they're doing it.)

*** We started talking about Miss Cleo at work the other day. No, I have no idea why, that's like asking me to explain cell division and binary fission, some things are just beyond my comprehension. But we were talking about Miss Cleo, which naturally led us to Miss Cleo's Wikipedia page, and did you know that Miss Cleo wasn't even Jamaican? I knew there was some big legal brouhaha a few years ago but I didn't realize that was one of the major takeaways, that she's not even Jamaican. (THE OUTRAGE!)

Anyway, my coworker is in the middle of a Miss Cleo rant when he stops and looks at me: "You totally called her, didn't you?" I look away, like, la la la, I can't hear you, I have things to edit and emails to reply to, and he's like, "You did! You totally called her! I knew it! WHY DOES THAT NOT SURPRISE ME ONE BIT?" And I'm like, well, if it doesn't surprise you one bit, why are you asking and, by the way, I only called for the five free minutes and she didn't even tell me anything ANYWAY.

He stares at me. "You know that wasn't really Miss Cleo, right? When you called?"
"You know they can't predict the future, right?"
He pauses. "So what did they tell you?"
"I don't know. I'd get married to someone with brown hair and have three kids."
"You know that like 90 percent of the population has brown hair, right?"
"I KNOW. I didn't say I was, like, RELYING on it. It was FIVE FREE MINUTES and it was, like, SIX YEARS AGO."
He shakes his head for a very, very long time. "I really do not understand you people."
I throw my hands in the hair. "You people? What is that, you people? What does that even MEAN?"
"WOMEN. I don't understand you WOMEN."

Right. All because of Miss Cleo.

(P.S. Have a great weekend, and by the way, SUNDAY IS EMMY DAY, YAY YAY YAY! I will be blogging during the show as always, with a little surprise this year. See you then!)

Thursday, September 10, 2009

If my life had to be a movie, why couldn't it be one starring George Clooney?

So I'm sitting there the other day, and I feel something tickling my ear, which is not such an unusual thing when you're a girl with longish hair. I put my hair behind my ear, but I still feel it. I push it back again, and it's still there and ... AHHHHH, IS THERE A BUG IN MY EAR? SICK, SICK, EWWWWW, GET OUT--

There's no bug in my ear. My ear stops tickling and I move on with life.

But THEN! A day or two later, I feel it again. I smack my ear for a minute, and it goes away. But then--THEN--yesterday at work, I feel it again. And it WILL NOT GO AWAY, and did I ever mention that I was neurotic, and did you ever see that Star Trek movie The Wrath of Khan with the little worm things they put in people's ears, and OH, MY GOSH, I AM GOING INSANE.

"I think I have a bug in my ear," I announce.

"You do not have a bug in your ear," my coworker says, already completely bored with the whole conversation.

"But how do you KNOW?" I ask.

He lets out a very heavy, very labored sigh, the sigh of a man who knows it's only 8:23 a.m. and there's a whole lot of neurotic, hypochondriac chatter left in the day, and walks over. He looks in my ear. "No bug."


So, naturally, my next step is to turn to Google (the litany of dire diagnoses--skin cancer, brain tumor, leukemia--it has given me in the past clearly not a deterrent). And instead of telling me that, no, silly Swishy, there is definitely not a bug in your ear, Dr. Google tells me that, you know, stranger things have happened than a doctor finding a bug in someone's ear. I tell my coworker as much.

"Well," he says, "what kind of vacuum do you have at home?"

OK, I say, that is definitely not funny. What do you think it is?

"It could be swine flu," he says. "I don’t know all the symptoms."

I glare at him and tell him I hope he catches it, then, for being so rotten. Another coworker jumps in and says I should go the doctor: "He’ll either tell you, yes, you have a bug in your ear, or no, you’re just paranoid, get off the crack."

"Not that!" my other coworker exclaims. "You can't take away her crack!"

Ha ha, very funny, you are all hilarious, just two big rays of sunshine and light and laughter in my life, I reply. Meanwhile, a bug is LAYING EGGS in my BRAIN.

A few minutes pass, and the feeling goes away. Of course, I announce as much. "Well, it can’t do any damage if it’s napping," my coworker says. He pauses, then adds: "You know what you should do? You should rent movies like Alien and watch it for possibilities of what could happen."

I think that's when I threw the Nerf football at his head.

So I go home, and I eat dinner, and I'm rinsing dishes at the sink, when I look up and see something seriously--I really am being serious now--SERIOUSLY disturbing. Like, freak-out disturbing. Like, run and turn off the kitchen light and hide in the corner disturbing (which, incidentally, is exactly what I did).

OK. This is the deal. There are spiders building an entire housing development outside my kitchen window. SCARY SPIDERS. POISONOUS-LOOKING SPIDERS. SPIDERS WITH BABIES. It is literally Arachnophobia outside my kitchen window. And yes, my window is closed, but wait, what's this? ONE OF THE BABIES HAS GOTTEN INSIDE AND IS SITTING THERE ON MY WINDOWSILL MAKING FACES AND STICKING ITS TONGUE OUT AT ME.

So, to recap: I feel like I have a bug in my ear, and mere hours later I see the New York City of spider towns outside my window AND a baby spider IN MY HOUSE. Hmmm. IS IT ANY WONDER I'M NEUROTIC?

I mean, did you THINK I was exaggerating here? TOTAL ARACHNOPHOBIA SPIDER!

OK. I killed the baby, just smushed the hell out of it, so it's gone. The rest sleep during the day, they come out at night, the whole thing is very disconcerting, but I mean, as long as I keep the window shut, I'm OK, right? They'll die when it gets cold, right? They won't lay a bunch of spider baby eggs that will hatch in the spring and eat my brain and feast on my corpse, right? RIGHT?!?!?

Holy crap, my ear is totally tingling again. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

A little bit of whatever

Well, hello there. One of my best friends came to visit, so I've been kind of MIA lately. We did a little bit of everything--concert, movies, amusement park, yummy food, sightseeing-ish stuff--and it was just nice to be with someone familiar again. He's known me for almost 10 years and is one of the best people I've ever known, so kind and patient with me. He left yesterday and oh, my goodness, the train wreck he left behind. I was crying rivers and swimming pools and hot tubs all night and into this morning. I guess I just miss everything. And sometimes when I'm stressed or trying not to be sad, I act really mean and snotty to people who are good to me, which makes me feel horrible and makes everything so much worse.

Sigh. So, yes. Lots of chocolate and Kleenex in Swishyville this week.

But! Visits are good, the weather's good, life is good, People.com and Entertainment Weekly are good. Let's talk some pop culture and entertainment to make everything a little better, shall we?

Big Brother. Yes, I am inexplicably still watching this train wreck of a show, albeit mostly in pieces while I clean or check email or whatever else. I cannot stand that girl Natalie, CANNOT STAND HER. The fact that she won HOH for next week is almost enough to make me shut it off for good. CAN'T. STAND. HER.

Project Runway. My early money is on Ra'mon, Shirin and the girl with two names and blonde hair. (How lazy am I that I am ON THE INTERNET and I won't just Google her name. Instead, she's the girl who two names and blonde hair. Fine. FINE. I will Google. Carol Hannah, her name is Carol Hannah. OK? Everyone good?) Also, maybe Christopher.

Top Chef. Love the brothers and the sorta-bitchy blonde girl whose name is ... wait, I've got it ... JENNIFER! Yes! I remembered one of the reality blonde girls' names! (The one name versus two definitely helps.)

Friday Night Lights. We had a little mini-marathon Sunday night and oh, man, that show just kills me. Just do yourself a favor and rent it. You will never, ever, ever regret it, except maybe the fact that it'll spoil you for TV forever. (Or not. See Exhibit A: Big Brother. But at least you'll KNOW you're spoiled!)

(500) Days of Summer. Very cute movie, with a perfect ending that made me a little teary because even though it was perfect it was still ... well, if you saw it, you know. Also saw The Time Traveler's Wife, which, while a bit slow, also made me cry. YES, I AM A GIRL.

The Duggars. Oh, goodness. I think it is a little tacky the way people talk about them sometimes because, you know, it's probably not really anyone's business how many kids someone does or doesn't have as long as the kids are taken care of and supported. But holy freaking crap, I cannot wrap my head around 19 kids. Nineteen children coming out of one person's body. Not all at once, but still. NINETEEN. I just ... wow.

Jon Gosselin. Total emotional infant. I have officially flipped from Team Jon to Team Kate, although to be honest I wouldn't really miss either one of them on the cover of my People magazine. Give me hot sexy single bachelors, People magazine!

OK, that's all I've got for now. Have a good weekend, everyone!