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Showing posts from July, 2005
MY MAC ATTACK At lunch today I zipped over a few blocks to The Beverly Center for some super duper moisturizing shampoo and conditioner to get my hair in tip-top shape before my next Japanese straightening with Michi in two weeks. Yes, it's time. It's been over a year since I've had it straightened, and my outgrowth is about 4 inches long now. It didn't bother me until recently when someone took a Polaroid picture of me at a wedding shower and I was horrified to see that my hair clearly was comprised of 2 polar opposite textures. The lower half being straight/swingy and the top half being wavy, and sad to say, poofy.* My hair has a look reminiscent of the dreaded 'root perm' that they taught us in beauty school. Lord knows why anyone would have that procedure done. I don't know if salons even still do that awful perm. While at the Bev Center I stocked up on super luxurious hair products. And then thought I should pick up some cosmetics while at the mall an
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FLUID PUDDING'S 2-YEAR OLD'S INNER VOICE & SWEATY COOKS? Of course I devour other people's blogs. Of course. How did I get started blogging in the first place? Well, Eric Zorn of the Chicago Tribune did an article on blogs and had a link to Danielle Hubbard's blog which I clicked on and then read daily. I stalked that poor girls blog even when she was studying in Russia and Greece. Ah, I miss Hubbard's Cupboard. So now I'm a devotee of Mimi Smartypants' Dairy Land and Finslippy who is a young mother living in Brooklyn and Laid Off Dad as well as Fluid Pudding. Angela at Fluid Pudding has a 2-year old named MC who is missing her "inner voice" and apparently that causes the child to scream random thoughts whenever they come into her head. Makes me think of my old pal Pam. After reading today's Fluid Pudding I truly believe that Pam is just missing her "inner voice" which in the past I just chalked up to an inability to whisper.
PATHETIC GIRLS GONE WILD DORKS OK, I know you all think that I spend my life standing on elevators while fearing that they'll send me plummeting to my death, staring at odd little bits of graffiti that is even penned inside the ones at my office building in Beverly Hills and being confronted by odd people. Cases in point: Woman who had drown herself in Youth Dew cologne Woman who kept asking me for a lunch recommendation and exclaiming "Oh no! That's too expensive!" Man who offered to hypnotize me over the phone to sleep "like a baby" if I'd just give him $20 and my phone number. Woman in my building who suffers from incontinence and always climbs in blaming some imaginary child, "Ick! The baby peed on me! Ick!" Felix's (our neighbor) wife who gleefully waived shopping bags at Joe and I "I just shop-lifted a bunch of stuff from Nordstrom!" not knowing that Joe's a Los Angeles prosecutor. The shoe fetishist. The elderly
WHEN BEING A STAR AIN'T ENOUGH So many young girls have a dream of being able to sing well enough to be a star, of being the next Brittney, the next Madonna, the next Shanaia - and for a very lucky few that have the awesome combination of looks, talent, dance, luck and that all too rare 'entertaining gene' their dream comes true. Today I looked up Mindy Mc Cready on iTunes and immediately found a treasure trove of catchy songs that make ya wanna hop up and two-step, or cling romantically to some cowboy. Why did I look up Ms Mc Cready on iTunes? Well, because she's in the news today and apparently in her 28 years on the planet, this beautiful blonde has not only had quite a nifty singing career in Nashville and around the world, but she's overdosed, been charged with fraud, identity theft, and a host of other legal and substance problems. Today she is in a hospital in critical condition after being found unconscious in a hotel lobby. Makes you wonder what would
THE PIANO TEACHER and DARK SHADOWS First, let me just address The Piano Teacher which was delivered by NetFlix on Friday. I'd put it in the cue after my office mate Monica told me it featured a great French actress I admire, it is really well done, it is based on a Pulitzer Prize winning book and there's an extremely hot sex scene in a bathroom. Isabelle Huppert unfortunately is such a good actress, that she was able to convincingly play such a warped and repellant character that I didn't like her. I'm not sure what the Pulitzer category that this book won in, but perhaps it was The Repressed Neurotic Unsavory Relationships With Our Mothers Category? Oh, and I must talk to Monica about that scene in the bathroom. Not hot and um, not sex so I feel that I misunderstood her somehow. On to my childhood, and whenever it's on SciFi Channel current guilty pleasure: Dark Shadows! Who knew they have Dark Shadows Festivals every year? Well, this year it's here in Ho
IVY THE NEW NUMA NUMA KID? OK, just for clarification so the e-mails can stop. The only reason the camera was in our office gym was because they were testing a new set-up for a live workout with one of our trainers that is scheduled for this weekend on a fitness site. And I feel somewhat better that the link to the live site where my workout was visible wasn't sent to anyone during the hour that I was making a spectacle of myself (unknowingly) in our private gym. So the odds are very slim that footage of me doing bad crescent kicks (which no one else would even recognize as crescent kicks cuz they look more like I'm just flinging a slightly crooked leg to one side or other) with mascara smudging my face ---all to pumpin' club tunes-- will be looped and shown over and over again across the globe. Katie Couric: What made you make this video of yourself? Ivy: I didn't, it was an accident at work that wasn't supposed to happen. KC: By accident, are you referring t
AIR FRESHENERS THAT ARE JUST WRONG or CINNAMON POOP OK, I'll be brief on this disgusting subject. I know that the posh Beverly Hills office complex where I work strives to keep the common rest rooms fresh and clean, but their selection of complementary aerosol air fresheners needs to be re-evaluated. What's wrong with good old-fashioned Lysol? What's with the ineffective cinnamon or strawberries and cream scents? I mean, look, it’s a bathroom. These sprays will never fool people into thinking they're in a kitchen. And let's address the fact that fake food scents never even approach the actual aroma they're attempting to mimic. I say there is no good reason to invent banana-mango fresheners, no excuse to create boysenberry-sunrise varieties of room deodorizer. Let's all boycott these distasteful sprays until they stop making them, or at least for the love of all that is holy, promise me not to spray them in a common rest room once you've made a stink.
THE COOK, THE THIEF, HIS WIFE AND PETER GREENAWAY Yesterday while driving across town in classically nasty LA traffic, I called my sister* which is my favorite thing to do to keep me from flinging myself out of the car in frustration and yanking people out of their cars for doing stupid things that hold up traffic, oh, say like the woman in the Audi at the gridlocked corner of 3rd and LaCienega who was in the middle lane of LaCienega, and decided to nudge the front of her car into the lane to the right of her in an effort to move over 2 full lanes and make a right turn onto 3rd from the middle lane! I was behind her in the middle lane of LaCienega and sat through 2 lights as she pig headedly refused to just proceed forward a block, then get over to the right turn lane and circle back onto 3rd from Beverly Blvd. Bitch! She eventually blocked 3 lanes with her car until everyone including bike messengers stopped for her. Insane Bitch! Anyway, as I was saying, my sister was able to dist
THE WEB! IT'S EVERYWHERE! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! Oh my God! I just found out that I've been on the Web while working out! You see, we have gyms at our office and we're encouraged to sign up for a convenient time and workout either alone or with buddies. I've had the same time slots for a while now and am currently working out alone and today I was doing a kickboxing routine that has me incredibly sweaty and gross. So I was walking past our editing department a minute ago when Rick calls out, "Hey, saw you doing Turbo, do you like that routine?" I stopped and turned slowly, "What do you mean you saw me?" He seemed completely casual in his reply, "We've got a camera in there and a bunch of us were watching you, looked like a fun workout." Homeysayswhat?! Turns out that the camera sitting up on the entertainment equipment was on. I mean, we film all over the place and there are cameras and camera stuff laying all over the office and gyms.
TODDLER VIDEO GAMES? and TOO UGLY TO FUCK? This week I've ridden in the elevator of my apartment building with a woman in her mid 40s or so. She silently pushes a stroller onto the elevator and positions herself behind it - staring into space. The kid in the stroller looks to be about 2 years old. He is avidly playing some cool looking video game, which is clutched in his chubby hands. Chubby thumbs working with mind-boggling speed. His eyes are burning into the screen, which features really impressive graphics. Music is pouring out of the little machine and I guess it's theme music that goes with the adventure the little fella is playing… it's not bad music. So I guess the days when you'd hand your two year old a rattle or stuffed toy to keep them occupied are over. But that game looks to be quite expensive and don't 2 year olds bang things around and break them? I mean, that's why all the toys made for their demographic are durable plastic right? Not that I&
OOPS! WOOPS! GET OUT OF THE HOUSE WHILE YOU CAN! Ever have one of those mornings where you're a clumsy oaf? Yeah, well, this morning it was both Joe and I sending things flying. I should have known it would be a bizarre day when I awoke at 4:50 a.m. and Evadnae was using one paw to massage my throat (somewhat painfully - cough!) in a very focused manner, and cupping my left eyebrow with this other paw (somewhat painfully - blink!) little toes pushing on my eyeball. What the…!?! I pushed him off and went back to sleep. Later, when my alarm went off I got up, got myself ready for work, and then launched my enormous glass of iced coffee onto Joe's law books. His law books that were safely tucked away on a bookshelf. How did I manage that you ask? Easy, I just swatted it off the side table where it was perched with the back of my hand. Don't normal people reach for things with their palms - so they could actually grasp and pick them up? Yeah, but not this morning. I even saw
BLINDLY EATING SOUP So this morning while snatching my keys off the front hall table, I glanced at the Wild Orchid Thai-Japanese take-out delivery menu that had been shoved under my door yesterday. It was just lying there next to my keys. Thinking of lunch, I grabbed it and stuffed it into my bag. You see, I'm very tired of eating each day at the deli in my office building. So tired in fact that for the past few weeks I can only get through half of my order at lunch. Today, I was tantalized by exciting flavors and was even reading the menu while driving the few blocks to work (not very safe I admit). I swept into the office and declared to my office-mate Monica that Wild Orchid was the ticket out of our pathetic lunch stupor. I got an order of Pad Woon Sen and a giant Tom Kha Gai soup. Monica got Ginger Chicken and a Tom Yum soup in a more typical cup portion. We rushed to the receptionist's desk when she paged and carried our little Bangkok bundle to our office. Monica was
MORE ELEVATOR ENCOUNTERS Why do I always meet the odd people in the elevator? This morning a pudgy old man stepped into the elvator beside me, pushing an empty library cart. Glancing down at my feet he scoffs: "AACH nice shoes. You think those are nice shoes? Those 2 tiny straps cost more than that whole shoe. Don't tell me. I know. AACH. It doesn't make sense. It's a crime I tell you. I know what straps cost…" He continued griping about my shoes in a charming but heavy Yiddish accent as he got off at the lobby level. I stared at my shoes paying close attention to the 2 tiny straps, each with a tiny little bow until I got to the parking garage. What's with my shoes and freaky men in elevators? I won't tell him. He knows. Ivy All Red Ivy compositions, posts and blog content Copyright protected.
MAKE THE NUMBERS STOP! TOO LATE! MY BRAIN LEAKED CLEAN OUT OF MY HEAD! 4 weeks ago I was speaking to my boss who was fretting over a major report that until recently was painstakingly generated by an employee who has left the company. Before leaving, said employee had taught someone else in his department to generate this weekly report. But that employee couldn't do his job and the report as well, it was just WAY too much. I volunteered to hop in and do it, I mean, heck, it could only take me 1 day of serious concentration to knock that out each week. I'd devote Monday's to the task. Two Monday's ago I started in. I got a hot cup of coffee and rolled up my sleeves, and what a ya know? By mid-day on Friday I was done! OK, there were many intricacies that not only could I not understand at first glance, but the remaining employee who knew how to generate this report - didn't have time to sit with me. So in preparation for last week, I had sat down and created a sim
HE'S SO HAPPY HE COULD JUST PUKE Why so much barfing at the ol homestead? I assure you I do not know. I mean, I had my recent bout of feverish barfing after eating leftovers from Maggianos -- but that is really nothing in comparison with Hannibal earning the richly deserved nickname Pukey or The Pukester. Sure, he threw up the first day we got him home, when he was 7 weeks old and the exact size of our TV remote control. Just a bit of barf really. We figured that he was just nervous with the excitement of being adopted, or maybe it was all the licking and grooming he was doing that first day with Evadnae. Whatever. But even with taking him to the vet and putting him on medication that we had to deliver orally twice a day, he only eased up on the hurling - you know, there's less hurlage when he's on the meds, but he was certainly not "cured". We've always fed him high-quality, no-additive canned food that he was raised with which is inconvenient to get and
MOVE LIKE HELL THEN BE PERFECTLY STILL So, what were Joe and I up to this 4th of July weekend? Well, we used to go rollerblading all the time, but now have yet to strap on our blades this summer. We decided that the holiday weekend was a perfect time to blade along the beach, take in all of the freaks on Venice Beach and get a bit of sun, exercise and fresh air. We steered the happy clown car away from beach traffic and parked in a Santa Monica neighborhood. Then bladed through town, down the pier (hand over hand lowering ourselves on the handrail like doing push ups to keep us from accelerating to warp speed down the long decline to the ocean) and onto the strand. Then we immediately hit turbo and scrambled as fast as our legs could push us. Weekend bicyclists hollering "on your left!" sweeping past us, serious Olympic bicyclists swearing and bursting past the weekend bicyclists, parents peddling like mad on bikes outfitted with strange kiddie pup-tents on wheels containing