I was thinking, YES. This is a happening. I got my boots, my LA-fake-Autumn sweater… my pleather H&M pants that fit like a glove. Like a glove that’s one size too small, on the hand of a man with sausage fingers. BUT. Still good.
In my mind I almost looked like:
Or even a little like:
I pulled on the pants, buttoned the fly, and bent my knees to test for bendiness.
They made a little rubbery sound. — Ha. Continue reading
It’s my super favorite time of year at my delivery job! Where the night settles in just as my shift is starting, and I’m blindly feeling for doorbells and buzzers on dark porches where people have forgotten to leave the lights on for “service workers”, like me. When dead bodies, bloody brides and elaborate pumpkin arrangements are common sights, and there’s a 50/50 chance that the spiders are real.
Make that an 80/20 split.
Even though LA boasts a ball-busting sweltering start to Autumn, I manage to find my pumpkin spice. The light is different as the sun crosses the sky. There are crunchy fallen leaves on some streets. And the evenings cool down to a brisk 65 degrees. Even the wind in the trees softly whispers, “WHERE MY UGGS AT. I WANNA WEAR ‘EM WITH MY SHORTS AND MY AZTEC CAFTAN. OMG I CAN’T FIND MY PHONE.”
Bliss. Continue reading
This is the real story of one woman, one murder, really complicated words, a disappearing knife, and a crappy cappuccino.
To be honest, I had been postponing my jury duty for months already. “I don’t get paid for this shit…” I mumbled to myself as I punched in the numbers to check in for my summons. It was my last day of calling-in, so I figured I was pretty much home free —- “YOU ARE REQUIRED TO REPORT ON FRIDAY AT 7:45AM.” I had to repeat the message from the robot on the phone. Ugh, crap.
OK, ok. I could do *one* day, downtown at the courthouse. I mean my work doesn’t pay me to be there, but — I work at night, the court stuff’s during the day, civic duty, might be a kinda cool, blah blah blah. Don’t be a weenie.
Besides. I could make it a fun experiment. Hey-oh! What a fun little day-in-the-life-of-a-reluctant-juror this will be! And then I’ll get back to my regular life! …Right?
You’s guys. My bezzzz friend Dan Magro and I FINISHED 18 bonafide episodes of “Sleepover With Dan + Lauren”! And to celebrate — in lieu of having everyone over for the world’s sweatiest, most awkwardest actual sleepover — we threw a good ole fashioned party.
That’s us up top, kinda looking like DJs, kinda looking like we had a personal relationship with the bartender…(Looks like water, tastes like alcoholic Christmas trees!)We gussied ourselves up (I am definitely wearing that same dress I always wear: Mischa Barton’s hand-me-down Herve Leger, which I’ll wear until it becomes one sad little dangling bandage…) and hit Gold Coast in West Hollywood. With a million of our closest friends and fans (wink!). We felt totally honored that everyone came out to party with us (and watch the Season 1 finale!) It was — a total blast. Continue reading
I am having some JGSAD today. (June Gloom Seasonal Affective Disorder). June Gloom is this weird cloud layer (It’s not SMOG – I checked) that hangs around and makes the mornings dark and kinda chilly. I’m drinking iced cold brew coffee, wearing a sweater and shorts, squinting even though there is no sunshiny sun — WHAT IS REAL ANYMORE. But we Angelenos willingly accept this month-long punishment for having the best weather in the continental U.S. the rest of the year.
I mean, come on. My skin has become the thinnest layer of an onion, tolerating nothing but 75 degrees and mostly sunny. Thanks, Los Angeles!
That’s what THREE YEARS IN LA will do to ya. Turn you into a weenie who’s disturbed by clouds. I’ve actually been here 3 1/2 years and to celebrate, my old roomie Chris Turnham and I made our first pilgrimage to the Hollywood Sign! High atop the hills of mansions and celebrities, there are the letters: H-O-L-L-Y-W — ok, you can spell. Continue reading
I dunno about you guys, but I loves me some pie. Apple, key lime, chocolate cream, peach, blueberry, strawberry, razzleberry… You get it.
So when I got the chance to be obsessed with pie on camera for a paycheck, you know I pretty much cocoa-pie’d my pants in excitement!
Marie Callender’s only ever existed in the freezer aisle of my formidable East Coast years. But on the West Coast, there are like — real restaurants, with delicious HOT food. And margaritas the size of your head. Us actors would be playing the most enthusiastic Marie Callender’s servers ever there were. Continue reading
That room right there in that photo? Totally glowy in hot pink light, that you get to stand in the middle of, blissfully losing touch with reality, even though you’ve got super-dork booties on your feet. Like you’re some kinda hippie barefoot doctor of… not helping people.
My friend Chris Turnham asked if Ervin and I wanted to go to LACMA (Los Angeles County Mega Awesome…right?) to see the James Turrell retrospective, a few weeks back.
“YES!!” I said. And then, “Who is James Turrell?” is what I typed into Google. Ah-HA. He does art with light and something or…. I don’t know. But everyone and their blogging bestie was raving about this show. I wasn’t NOT gonna go. Continue reading