She can't even boil an egg.

Despite the fact that my mother was a professional chef during many of my formative years, I do not have any sort of knack for domestic kitchen type activities. For the past few months, I have been trying to perfect the art of hard boiling an egg. Its seems simple enough and there have definitely been points in my life in which I have been able to accomplish this feat. I'm not sure if it's the stove in my current apartment or if I'm just a lazy a-hole. Either way, I have solicited the advice of many in this process. Everyone seems to have a personalized technique which they were keen to share with me. Some people add salt to the water; some set the water at a certain level in the pot. One friend told me that he had a sixth sense about egg boiling and could pinpoint the exact right time to yank them out. For some reason, whenever I have given this a try lately, it just hasn't turned out quite right. The yokes are sometimes a weird color and often the shell is difficult to separate from the white.
Anyway, last Sunday, I was watching TV (Real Housewives of NJ, I'm sure), having just awoken from a late afternoon nap. It was slightly warmer than usual in my apartment which I chalked up to a break in the clouds from the June gloom. I was still a little groggy and didn't feel like getting off the couch to open the kitchen window to promote a cross breeze. I had slept for approximately 1 hour and had been watching TV for about 20 minutes, when I was jolted by what I was sure was a gun shot coming from somewhere in my house. "What the fuck was that?" I asked outloud to no one (I accidentally killed my beta fish in the garbage disposal last week - terrible - one of the worse cases of fish-slaughter ever committed, I assure you). I jumped off the couch and started to investigate when a second round was fired. I ran into the kitchen to find eggs literally exploding out of a pot which I had started before my impromptu nap and about which I had completely forgotten when I woke up. Excuse me? Eggs explode? You bet your ass they do. All over my freaking kitchen. The water had completely evaportated and they were as hard as rocks. Apparently, it's like putting a can of soda in the freezer and forgetting about it (not that I would know anything about that).
I spent a good part of the next hour de-egging my kitchen. Gross. I'm giving up. Screw hard boiled eggs. I don't even like them that much anyway. I will get my protein elsewhere, thank you very much.

Terrible Headshots - Vol. 8

Here are the winners for June. Clearly, the woman at the bottom would like to be considered to play opposite Ryan Gosling in the Lars and the Real Girl sequel.

Terrible Headshots - Vol. 7

Remember this gentleman? Well, he has some other poses now available that you may enjoy. Just keeping you updated!

Where to begin here? Important to touch up those photos before you print them out and mail them, don't you think? It's called HD, people, and it isn't kind. Hide those things for as long as possible.

Check out those guns! No, really, there are guns in this "headshot." I think this really shows versatility. She can play a sex slave, an assassin, a lawyer or the ethnic best friend!

I made it!

It's Friday! Thank you, Universe, for helping me make it through another week. Yesterday, the outlook on that actually happening was iffy at best.
This week, I aquired a balance ball chair for my desk at work, manufactured by the fine people at Gaiam. So, essentially, I sit on a bouncy ball all day and bounce. It isn't exactly comfortable, but I pretend it is so my employers don't think they were right when they told me they doubted I would last a week on it. Ha ha! I have lasted a week, so the joke is on them! And on my ass which is pretty much numb by the end of the day. We all have to make sacrifices.
Still doing P90X, but a wine and cheese party that I hosted on Tuesday night seriously derailed my meal plan. It also left an obscene number of used wine glasses piled on my kitchen counter that I haven't touched yet. It was all completely worth it though, as it resulted in some high quality girl friend time. I think that I am back on track now and am blessed with a four day work week next week, followed by a 2 day work week the following week and THEN another 4 day work week. There is a chance I will continue to survive somehow.
A week from today, I am going to visit my BFF in Austin where she will be graduating with her Ph.D. Yeah, she's really smart. I feel like I have also completed something. That something will likely turn out to be a bottle of tequila. Yay, Texas!

P90 eXcuse me?

Well, just so you know, I lasted about 2 hours without television. That was a stupid idea. I'm clearly not capable of that kind of commitment at this point in my life. Also, there was a place card for me at the previously mentioned wedding. Sadly, by the time that was communicated to me, I was in Oxnard at a thrift store formerly know as The Association of Retarded Citizens, but now called ARC. Apparently, if you refer to it as the Retarded Citizens Thrift Store in an Oxnard gas station, the proprietor of said gas station will know that you are "not from Oxnard, huh?" I guess some drama went down in that town over their beloved second hand shop. Anyway, I heard it was a beautiful wedding.
Fitness Update:
I have quit boot camp. I know this won't come as a complete shock to most of you. What is shocking is how long I actually went. There are various reasons for my departure, but the main one is that I really wasn't loosing any weight and although we can pretend all day that I just want to "feel better" and "get healthy," I think in our heart of hearts we all know what the real goal is. So, I've come up with a new way in which to torture myself - P90X. Every heard of it? I'm about to close out my second week on the program. If you've never actually done it, you should know that it is not only an at home exercise program, but also a nutritional program. The workouts are very difficult and the diet is strict. If this doesn't work, I have no idea what will. I do live in LA, so I guess the next option is lipo. Speaking of which, does anyone have a baseball bat I can borrow? I need to beat the shit out of a bathroom scale, Office Space style.
Apt Update:
Yesterday when I was doing Yoga X (P90X yoga for superheroes), I was half way through a sideways twist when I noticed that there was a large unpainted circle on the wall above my bathroom door. I also realized that the smoke detector that used to be in that spot was now in the living room over top of a painting, off centered. At first I thought, wow, has that always been like that? No, certainly not. I wouldn't have been able to stand #1 the unpainted circle or #2 the off centered painting. I was pretty pissed because obviously my building manager had authorized someone to come into my apartment without my permission and replace/move the smoke detector. I also suspected that they had come in without my permission on another occasion several months ago when I found a piece of insulation on my balcony which I did not put out there. All day long, whenever I would look at that damn circle, I would get angrier and angrier. So, this morning, I called my very nice landlady and left her a message asking about the situation. She called me back and said that she had never sent anyone into my apartment to move the smoke detector!! She had called the maintenance man and he didn't know anything about it either!! She also assured me that the smoke detector had indeed been above the bathroom door as they are all in the same places in all of her apartments. WTF??! Who would come into my house and move a smoke detector? Very weird. She is having the locks replaced today and moving the smoke detector back where it was. Matt says I should call the police and report it just in case there is a serial killer on the loose who breaks into ladies' apartments and moves the smoke detector shortly before he comes back to murder them. AAAHHHHHH. I don't want to die! In case the murderer is reading this blog, go fuck yourself! I have a giant killer dog now who will eat your face off if you come in again.

Save-the-Dates TV Challenge

I am issuing myself a weekend challenge - Not to turn the TV on from 7pm Friday to 7 pm Monday. This is what is referred to as "Extreme." Maybe even "X-treme." Put your bets in now, people. I will report back on Monday and let you know how I do. It may prove to be particularly difficult on Saturday afternoon as many of my friends are attending a wedding to which I was not invited. Interestingly, I received a "Save-the-Date" for said wedding, yet no official invitation ever arrived. This presented a socially awkward/unpleasant situation with which I was not quite sure how to deal. What is the protocol for something like that? Clearly, they had planned on inviting me 5 months ago. BUT, in the 5 months that have passed since the Save-the-Date was received, I haven't seen the bride and groom too much. Perhaps they realized they had over-invited and had to make some cuts? Who knows? It is a question, unfortunately, I felt like I could not pose to the happy couple. If they had indeed uninvited me, it would be embarrassing and rude to make them say it to my face. On the other hand, there is a possibility that my invitation was lost in the mail. I have moved since the Save-the-Date was sent, but, my mail was forwarded, so even if they sent it to the old address, it should have made it to me. Of course, if this is the case, then they probably think that I am the asshole who doesn't RSVP and is just not going to show up for their big day. Either way, I think that is a topic that can't really be broached until after the wedding, so I am going to miss it tomorrow which will make it very hard for me to resist turning on the television set and feeling sorry for myself. I'm going to do my best to stare at the wall and feel sorry for myself instead.
No carbs til Tuesday when Megsy and I go to The Palm. Oh, Lobster bisque, I cannot say no to you.

The Tax Man is making me need therapy.

I've spent the last day or so working on my taxes and organizing financial documents. A couple of months ago, I decided to stop opening mail and just shove it all in a drawer in my kitchen. After spending a delightfully long weekend with Niki in Napa, I figured I needed to take care of all this shit. Of course, the timing could not have been worse since I spent probably 2 weeks salary on booze while I was up there. Anyway, the result has been a downward mental spiral that has culminated in the realization that I am poor. I don't like it. How dare the Universe take It's problems out on me like this? I have half a mind to stop participating in society just to make It feel badly about what It's done to me. If It thinks I'm doing yoga or sending It positive energy anytime soon, It can think again.

To add to my misery, I've put the smack down on carbohydrates once again. It seems that when I refuse to eat carbs, I comsume considerably fewer calories throughout the day. This isn't always a good thing. If  I am not allowing myself carbs, I guess I would rather just not eat at all. According to Livestrong, I only ate about 1200 calories yesterday and most of those came from a jar (that used to be full) of olives.  Sigh. Why do I insist on making life more difficult for myself? Flabby arms, that's why!

Have you seen this thing yet?  http://www.lewhif.com/
Le Whif is breathable chocolate. What? It's either the stupidest or most brillant thing I've ever encountered. I don't think you can get it in LA yet, so I've yet to make a final decision. I believe it is available in NYC. I'd love to hear any reports from verified users. As a former smoker, the cigratte-like packaging is very appealing to me. As is the sucking.

So, while I await my accountant's verdict, I will dream about pastel tubes of cocoa powder and a world in which onion bagels have 0 grams of carbs and love you back.