ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!

I finally finished reading Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn last night. Fuck this fucking book. Fuck it six ways from Saturday.

I would say "spoiler alert!", but please, please allow me to save you the time you'll spend on this particular piece of literature.

I should have known. I should have known by the hype surrounding this book, and I definitely should have known when they chose David Fincher to direct the upcoming movie based on said piece of shit.

Let me explain....

I had read the description, I had even watched the first teaser trailer for the film. Looked very interesting; I wanted to make sure I read the story first. I was advised by two different Harvard graduates, whose social skills I trust very much, that this book was outstanding. Oh... and was it ever.

I was had. I got one paragraph in and thought "this is great, I really miss being curled up reading". Fuck that. I was totally devoted to this book. Though wordy and full of dialogue (both inner and outer), it's a quick read. You are hooked fairly early on and seem to sail through how candidly Gillian is able to tell such a detailed story.

In the middle, you're just all "I need to hurry home from work and read this shit, I have to KNOW.". Then, even when you think you're starting to figure things out, twwwwwist! And not a crappy twist, a really clever, evil twist that makes you wonder if the author is actually sick. (answer:yes)

Toward the end, you're basically emotionally exhausted. You just want closure. You're hoping for the big bang of conclusions; to feel the satisfaction of justice. You are awarded no such thing. Yet...you're not rewarded the opposite either. It is the most hideous of tie scores.

As I read the last page, I thought I had missed something. I literally checked if there was a chapter beyond the acknowledgments. I actually checked to see if my binding was all messed up and a chapter had been left out. No. No. In reality, you NEVER get closure. You get to sink down into the sickening emptiness where the characters also dwell. And it becomes far-fetched. Not only because this has just never happened before, not even on the show Snapped, but because the ending is utterly countered to the beginning of the book in such a horrifying, unsustainable way.

I almost threw my copy. I went back and watched the trailer twice and realized "OF COURSE!". Obviously I should have known the book would end up like this as Fincher is known for directing dark, hopeless pictures lacking a viable closure of story: Fight Club, Seven, The Social Network, etc. Oh! Let's not leave out Zodiac! A movie about a killer who was never ever caught. Well, good luck, David. I have no doubt the adapted screenplay will be stellar and I'd like to thank you in advance for your lack of soul. How you delight in such fruitless journeys, I'll never understand!!

I made 3 different phone calls to just bitch and bitch about this book and how I actually felt like the victim knowing the story did exactly what it was intended to do: draw me in and disappoint me for life. Just like Nick....Amy got me too. Thanks, Amy. Thanks, Gillian Flynn. Thanks a whole bunch.

In closing, this book is The Red Wedding of hype novels... well... besides the actual novel containing The Red Wedding. You know what I'm saying, just save yourself the time. Or don't. Read that shit. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

My Office Has Just Become A Place Where I Eat Trisquits

Today I laughed my shit off at Inside Amy Schumer because that couples counseling skit she did with Chrissy Teigen was outstanding.

Then I zenned my shit out when I got back to work from my place because I have been obsessing over this song we stretch to in Pure Barre. It's all jazzy and soothing and uplifting all at the same time. My teacher Paige, who is just the sweetest, strongest soul you'd ever meet, is super into it and plays it before class as well and dances around and kicks her legs high and the sight of her doing that in my mind just makes me feel joy. Anyway, I youtubed it to play over and over and over until the whole building hates me and turns out there's an actual official music video for it full of beautiful hipsters who appear to be walking around somewhere in the Leland-Walloon area of Lake Michigan! They road trip through fields and get out of their Coachella van to walk through wildflowers and hike through this gorg forest out to a cliff and in my head I was all "Wtf, that's totally Kelly's dad's house and the exact hike we take!". Of course, it's not, but it looks very similar with the cliff and beach and all, so close enough, son.

All of this means nothing. I'm really just passing the time to get through work and working out til I can cuddle up in bed to read Gone Girl and watch the Red Wings lose while telling JD he should become a Blackhawks fan if he wants the really quality back tickles from me. I'm half assing it through the playoffs.

And all the while, here's the happy soundtrack to week days. (Weekends: the music is much more Miguel)

Zen Your Shit Out.

I.........Love It.

I have nothing of real worth to say today. (And yes, everything else I say on here is Dixie Chicks seriously important because people who don't even like me still read this shit). I'm still in a post-Easter/pre-bangs trim happiness phase.

BUT, I did laugh for at least a good 11 minutes over the latest episode of Gay of Thrones.

You're Welcome. Enjoy.

"Do You Have Easter In Austria?"

The breeze on my face. The taste of a perfectly cold beer at 1pm in the afternoon with an even more perfect, greasy bar burger. The release of a huge bout of laughter with your head thrown back. The look of dusty perfection through sunglasses on a back road. The silky, butterfly wing feeling of daffodil petals against my face. The satisfying tug of my muscles while lifting feed sacks and cleaning the barn. The fluttery heartbeat of a baby chick behind its dandelion puff feathers. The hot stone feeling of the driveway pavement beneath my sister and I lying in the sun. The feeling of relief that summer is actually coming after begging and finally being told "the pool will be open in 2 weeks, calm your shit". The smiley feeling while saying "Happy Easter, my little bunny" and the warm-water-being-poured-over-my-heart feeling of him answering "You too, my little chick".

I Can Not Hold It. I Can Not Control It

I'm not really feeling work this week.  Its uninspiring and stressful and monotonous all at the same time. Killer combo.

In an effort to inspire myself to "do better" as my friend Tony would say, I decided to watch some old school Britney videos on youtube to get me moving. Um.... yeah, that didn't do the trick. It did make me want to move, but pretty much move out of the building.

"Everytime" made me a little sad, as it always does, because it's a song about longing and regret that you can almost feel when you hear it. Sadney wrote this and Sadney is my least fave Brit. I'll take pink wig Brit over that. But, whatever, it made me want to be in a yoga class making my muscles long and lean and breathing into stretches and staring out the window at sunshine as I do it. I was leaning back over my chair stretching my arms and hearing my Pure Barre instructor in my head saying "let your head fall back, reach for the corner of the room, close your eyes and breathe". Made me feel relaxed and awesome. I decided to press on.

I looked up "Overprotected", but it was the original. I watched that video just because, but everyone in the world understands it's inferior to the Darkchild Remix/Chris Applebaum version. Once I put that on, I wanted to do plenty of things. None of which involve my job.  I wanted to see how many push ups I could do in a row, then follow regular form up with tricep on my knees and see how low I could go and how many times. I forgot all about the dancers doing the splits in that video as well, so I wanted to also work hamstrings and calves and then turn the heat up in the room and continuously ground stretch until I could prop myself up in the splits.

Figured I should keep going, so I watched "I'm A Slave 4 U" several times. That just reminded me how good Francis Lawrence was at music videos and how fantastic Wade Robson was at choreography and ruining relationships. Also, I realized that may have been the best Britney's body ever looked. So fucking sexy. Which, obviously, made me want to go to Pure Barre. But also to be at Goodnight Gracie dancing allllll night long while spilling my Moscow Mule all over everyone and giving zero fucks. Just getting low and grinding and rolling and singing until I'm borderline blackout. Followed, of course, by exhausting drunk sex. The kind of night I absolutely love. (I also realized that a mash up of "I'm A Slave 4 U" and "Sweater Weather" by the Neighbourhood would not only work, but blow my mind in a very, very, very good way)

That got me thinking about mash ups and so I had to watch the live performance of Kendrick Lamar and what's their names singing "Radioactive" which got me PUMPED like no other. That made me want to do sprints, get stretched out, shower, then have more sex. "Turn Down For What" came on after and that made me want to go dancing again. I mean... it's a vicious cycle. My brain is not sedentary. It just isn't.

I think the moral of this twisted story is that I'd rather be working out, dancing or fucking (or writing, clearly) than doing anything else. Especially my job. If I had the guts, I would apply to be a girl that teaches pole class. I could then combine everything I love in one to make money! Well, not the sex part. I'd have to do that on my lunch.

Things I Miss About Coachella

1.  Flowers in my hair. I am actually still a huge fan of pick flowers and sticking them in my hair, but nowhere is it more an acceptable piece of uniform than Coachella.

2.  Watching celebrities (who are truly there for the music) just chill and rock out looking a little sweaty and dirty. I stared at Danny DeVito jamming to Jack Johnson for at least 20 minutes straight. I couldn't look away.

3.  Watching celebrities (who are there to be photographed) look around very confused and try to make it into a fancy cocktail party.

4.  Churros. Shit, I love eating Churros. I order them at Imperial in Royal Oak all the time, but they are always overdone and just not...Mexican enough.  Sorry about the borderline racism.

5.  Lying on the polo fields in the sun. Not too many places to lie around in the grass when you're a grown adult. Unless you live (ironically) in New York because Central Park is huge and peeps do it there plenty. Boats? Yes, tons. Lakes? Many, including Lake Michigan, but it's just not the same as lying on a perfect lawn.

6.  Saving all your most comfortable hippie clothes that are too whacky to wear normally, but juuuuust right for Coachella. And then matching them with your most practical footwear because you walk forever.

7.  Walking into the EDM tents to get shade and seeing all the people super drugged out just so I can bop around saying "man, this tent makes me want to party" and hope none of them are sober enough to get the Jackass reference and/or kick my ass.

8.  Staying at Big's house afterwards and getting to wash all the sand off. No matter what you're doing in Palm Springs, at the end of the day, you're covered in sand. My ex Andy and I had to get in the pool every night because there's just always a layer of grit and you'll destroy each other's skin during sex if you don't. I usually swam in my sundress. I miss that too.

9.  Networking with people while drunk/high and knowing you'll most likely NEVER reconnect back in LA, but it's nice anyway.

10. The spa treatments Andy would buy us the next day because, man, you need the detox after that much rocking out. Get all the booze, drugs and hippie out of your system.

Things I Thought This Morning When I Saw A Dusting Of Snow

1.  *tears*

2.  You have got to be fucking kidding me. It feels endless and hopeless.

3.  I should start my car, but gas is expensive. I'm tough, I can just scrape.

4.  Fuck. My wipers are stuck to my windshield.

5.  It must be awesome when your parents own the company and you don't have to wake up until way later and the sun has already melted this bullshit.

6.  What if the sun....doesn't melt this bullshit.

7.  What if this is it. Endless Winter. I'll never eat frozen yogurt again.

8.  Is this black ice? Nope. It's not. Good.

9.  I feel like I can never get a car wash again because it always rains or snows.

10. I guess I'm excited to wear my tweed jacket again... I look like a lady who lunches.

Benji

The last time I remember seeing Benji, we were on set. He had just bought a brand new Mercedes and this car was *flawless*. Beyoncé flawless. I think it was when the CLS was first made into that really swoopy model. As most Production Designers do, he parked as close as he could to the action, but agreed to give me his keys to move that beautiful machine if needed. By the end of the day, I had lost his keys. I swore I gave them back to him though, so he took on the responsibility. I remember him saying "you know, I actually did take them from you, this is my fault". I couldn't remember if he had or not, truly.

Either way, I started to get absolutely nuts and anxious and teary-eyed and I can remember him putting his hands on my shoulders and saying "It's just a car. They'll make more keys for it. Not worth flipping about". That was so Benji. I was always SO excited when directed to put his name on a call sheet. I knew fun was ahead.

I know there are those people that make us all think "oh, he was so full of life" or "man, he was talented", but Benji was both of those things in a way the rest of us could only dream of. He was bursting with life, but in that subtle way that doesn't make him a total clown. And he was creative in that manner that makes the rest of us who like to think we're creative seethe with jealously at how effortlessly good ideas came to him.

Benji was the kind of guy you wanted to hang out with so badly. He was bright and fun and coolly calm all the time. And when he did slightly lose his temper, he was so handsome doing it you didn't even care. He was the sort of man that could pull of sleeves of tattoos and a suit with simultaneous relevance and timeless class. He was impossibly hip. He looked like a banker, art gallery owner, box office lead, old-timey gangster, and NYC club promoter all at once. The man was beautiful.

When I left production, he's not a person I really kept in touch with until Instagram. I don't remember if he followed me or I followed him first, but his account was such a delight. It was a perfect mix of production and partying and daily normal life, but it was very clear his favorite subjects of art were his children. So many incredible photos and videos of his beloved babies who all seem to be little sparks that flew off the flame that was their father. My heart absolutely breaks for those kids. And his new fiancé. Benji just seemed SO happy. That's really the only consolation I can take in a time like this. That Benji passed away in what appeared to be a very high peak in his life, surrounded by love and beauty.

UPDATE

After behaving like a normal person and eating a lovely, fresh dinner and catching up on my favorite show I was feeling really accomplished and productive so I decided to cut up an apple for my sugar fix.

I could physically not put one inch of the apple into my mouth without a slice of brie on it. The apple became a meaningless vessel to transport more white gold into my gullet.

The obsession continues....

Brie. It's What's For Dinner.

I can't stop with the brie. I literally can't stop.

I have been eating more brie than I believe is healthy for any human, but I don't get tired of it. I don't even really have the taste for anything else. Every time I'm asked "what sounds good for dinner?" the look of shame that creeps across my face prompts a sigh and then "I know... brie. You can't just eat brie and fig jam for every meal!" but....I can. And I do when I'm at home.

You know, it's not my fault its so good. I'm not to blame for the sweet, creamy goodness that is heavenly both warmed or cold. I don't want to apologize for enjoying a substance that tastes fantastic with every kind of cracker and bread available to man. (but best with Trader Joe's rosemary crisps)

I really blame this on my taste buds changing. I guess it's more my palate. I know this because my smell preferences are also fluctuating right now. Where I normally wear very heavily scented lotion, I prefer fragrance free or my lavender and honey scent. I also normally prefer VERY heavy perfume like Lancôme La Vie Est Belle (full of iris and patchouli), but I have recently been wearing Dolce and Gabbana The One which mostly smells like Vetiver to me. It's powdery and very ladylike, not what I usually choose at all. I normally smell like a baby prostitute.

Anyway, back to the Brie. Did you know they also sell it in a little log?! So much easier to slice up for crackers and bread, but when I picked it up in the grocery store the other day, the look of disapproval I was given cut me deep. Not deep enough, apparently, because I still bought that stick of yum.

Brie, you guys. Brie.

Gone, Baby, Gone

It started with my dad.

When my dad decided to get remarried, it almost felt like losing him. The three new kids he had to take on were so young, 5 year old twin boys and an 8 year old girl. And they were wild as hell, they had been through so much already. I didn't like it. I didn't like one thing about it. I wanted to flip out and beg him to pick someone else to marry. But I knew deep down he didn't want to. And even after he was married and I wanted more of his attention, I realized they needed him more than I needed him. Sure, I was very sick, but they had no father at all, no guidance, no control, no structure. I knew sharing him was the right thing.

When it was time for Adam and I to break up, I felt like I could have kept him. I was making terrible decisions and we had outgrown each other, but I knew he loved me very much and I could have really pulled out the stops to manipulate him to stay with me. But I loved him too much to do that. I knew I had to give him up and let him go from our romantic relationship. Even now, it's an internal battle sometimes to not have his complete attention, but I know it's ok and that's natural.

When I dated Andy, it was just such a dream. Until his mother came in the picture. She was a grieving widow and that made her very emotionally desperate and selfish. Sadly, she let me know right away that she expected to be his first priority, and after not too long, his only priority. She took every opportunity possible to express to me how unwanted in her picture I was. And as a 23 year old girl totally in love with her 30 year old boyfriend, this was so miserable. He was so in love with me too, but he was caught in the middle of wanting to be with me and needing to take care of his mother. After a few years, I realized there was absolutely no way to stay in the relationship and I packed up and left because you can't ask someone to put you above their mother. If they wanted to, they would. He begged me to come back as it happened and promised it would change, but I didn't want him to have to fight with her for things to change. We still speak and catch up every now and then, and to this day, he still regrets the situation. And actually, so does she. Even now, years and years later, when he explained to her he was never as happy as when we were together, she attempted to contact me and apologize and right the situation. It was touching, and I appreciated it, but I could never be sure things would change and I couldn't live my life as a wedge. A 36 year old girl is a completely different person than her 23 year old self.

When I realized I had fallen in love with Alex, I thought that was really just the greatest. He was a lot younger than me, but I have never been concerned about age difference, and what a badass thing to fall in genuine love with your best friend's brother, that's the dream right there! When I knew it wasn't just infatuation, it was real stuff, I was so excited about what that meant and how cool that future would be. I would have never even allowed myself the opportunity to think that way if I had known how that would actually turn out in the end. When his sisters made it VERY clear that neither his nor my happiness mattered at all in the situation and they would always be disgusted and unhappy with it, I knew right then and there it would never be ok. Even with great efforts, deep down I knew he was just not tough enough to cope and I wasn't strong or selfish enough to pull us both through it. Even when they were faking tolerance for it, I knew them well enough to know what was happening behind that and it felt like willingly taking a little dose of poison every day. Aside for my grandmother dying, I can't remember a harder time in my life. It was the 2nd biggest heartbreak I had ever suffered and it drug on until I wasn't even the same person anymore. I thought taking a break and starting it over may work, but the wounds are so deep, I didn't know if they could heal. It still drags on. He still contacts me all the time. Even though we've both moved on a few times, and even when I say the meanest things I can think of, he doesn't relent. I don't know if he keeps it up because he still cares and he fears he'll end up Andy 2.0 or if he does it because he hates me deep down and wants to be a constant reminder of what I unknowingly gave up for him. I'm not even sure he knows why he does it. I just wish he'd stop. But I've asked him to a million times and he doesn't.

Because of all this, I'm just not a huge fan of conventional relationships. I'm certainly not against it, I'm just not one to invest totally anymore. Over time, it has become increasingly clear to me I'm much happier when I don't have expectations for relationships, if I just float through them, enjoying the good parts and putting zero pressure on the situation, there are no bad parts.  I don't know if its because I fear that anything I touch turns to shit, if its because I feel like I break people's hearts, or if it's because I despise the feeling of pain more than I enjoy the feeling of utterly committed love. And I'm totally happy. I feel content and calm and have a great time every day. I feel like people hate so hard on a Gwyneth Paltrow/Chris Martin situation because they can't stand the thought of admitting how gravely unhappy or just ....dead-souled and complacently numb they are in their own relationships and they've come so far in the conventional picture that they're embarrassed to give it up. I totally don't blame them because I really thought the same way for a long time, but man, you have your heart shattered into a billion pieces, you tend to come out the other side seeing things quite differently.

The moral of the story is I don't know that conscious uncoupling is something I do, but it actually may be my constant state of being. And I'm totally ok with that shit. I've always had a bit of a gypsy soul, so it just works I suppose. It's a sunny place to live. I'm a giddy little girl.

RAAAAAAAAAAANT

I know a woman with a full time job (where she is a manager), husband, two dogs that also teaches Pure Barre. Yesterday, she told me a story about a girl that works under her having a meltdown and running out of the building covering her ears and shouting that she "can't take it anymore!". She became concerned that something was terribly wrong with the girl and asked a co-worker to check on her. Said girl, called the co-worker back and said she "preferred to speak through her exclusively" and that she just found the job "too stressful at the moment" and that her manager (the woman I know) was "mean, I don't like the way she talks to me" and so on and so forth. She said that she'd like to keep her job, but she wants to be treated differently and gentler. To my relief at hearing this story, I learned they were like fuck that, and called her back to give her an exit interview and inform her that leaving work in that fashion is a resignation. I applaud them. Because this person would do something similar again. I call it "emotional terrorism". People who do things over and over again to manipulate people in such a way to make the emotional current of every situation exactly what they want it to be.

We ALL freak out to an extent. We have our moments, our days, our weeks, whatever. And there are some people who do this, but genuinely realize it, are trying to stop it, and apologize and correct their actions. It's a one or two time event with them and they fix the issue. If it was learned as a child, it probably takes a long time to grow out of.  BUT I'm telling you, I have noticed a pattern in the people that do this on the regular as a way of life. The following are my findings:

1. Often younger. I think around 27 and on down. The "What's In It For Me" generation. They grew up with cell phones, the internet, everything ready and at their fingertips with the click of a mouse. They don't understand the lack of instant gratification and they won't stand for it. Also, when you're in your twenties, you really think you have shit figured out. Until you turn about 32 and cringe at the thought of how very wrong your younger self actually was.

2. Only children. This is particularly bad with only children because they were never put in an all-the-time sharing situation from birth. Your personality develops pretty early. When you are forced to realize the world doesn't revolve around just you, it can be hard. You have to learn to deal with someone else receiving attention or things you didn't receive. But, you love this person, so you learn to also share with them and champion them and cope. Also, when you are left in charge or under the charge of a sibling, you learn responsibility, consequence, compassion in a very specific way that you don't learn at school. It's an important dynamic.

3. The youngest child in the family. This can coincide with #1 because they may have been born in a more convenience-based time, but there's also something to be said for the parents just being at the end of their ropes, and after stressing out about the older children, they're ready for an emotional break and they just sort of let the last one do whatever. These sad individuals are never wrong. They usually grow up with zero understanding of their shortcomings and an incapability to admit they even have any. It's always the fault of someone else. Anyone else. Just not theirs. And people should help them. With everything. They've earned it simply by....being.

4.  People who haven't faced much adversity. Whether it was having a wealthy family, perfect health, being naturally good at most things, if you don't face any adversity in your life or nobody teaches you that at some point you will, the first time you come in contact with it, you don't know how to react. If you didn't learn it as a child, as an adult, you may handle it like a child. I also call this "Every kid on the team gets a trophy" syndrome.

Everyone on the team does not deserve a trophy just for showing up. People don't deserve to be handled with kid gloves just because they're sensitive. The world owes you nothing. Not one minute on this planet is guaranteed to you. It is a miracle you get to breathe in and out every day. It's an even bigger miracle if you were born and stay healthy. Just because someone opposes you, challenges you, pushes you, does not make them insensitive or bad or, my personal favorite "out to get you". They are providing you with a very valuable service which will build your character and skill set.  Even if they ARE assholes, the world is full of them, so get used to it and learn how to handle it gracefully. Stay away from the people that really make you feel bad, but if you look around and suddenly find no one, maybe it's time to examine yourself, the way you're handle things, and your tolerance threshold. Sometimes, you have to communicate things to people that aren't all that pleasant or you have to hear things that are even less so, and you know what? That's life. That's communication. And people don't always tell us what we'd like to hear. It's good for us. It's just as large a part of what makes us strong, capable people as when someone loves and supports us.

If I'm not doing my job, I'm not contributing to a team, I'm making people's lives harder, I get asked to bounce, that's ON ME. Even if I truly feel I gave it 100% and did nothing wrong? Still ON ME. It's on me to pick up those pieces and move forward understanding that it's life and life isn't fair. It is what it is. Keep moving.

Breathe deep, put a helmet on, don't take things personal, hear things with a positive, curious, compassionate mind, realize that all you can control is yourself, learn that you only get one body so take care of it. Remember the world owes you nothing so take everything you do receive as a big ol blessing. You actually owe it to yourself to be the best version of yourself and ask what YOU can give back. What can YOU contribute? What can YOU do for yourself to make YOU a more vital person?

And if you expect a trophy from me for just showing up, I'll give you one all right. I'll shove a trophy so far up your lazy ass it busts out your dumb skull. 

Have a nice day :)

Things My Mom Currently Believes

1.   Turn signals are optional and only needed at "certain times".

2.   Because she paid for Geek Squad on the TV and blue ray player she bought me as a housewarming gift,  they should come to my house to assist with any and all technical needs. I explained to her several times that Geek Squad can not come help get my Comcast wifi working, they are ONLY available to help with things purchased at Best Buy, but she just keeps insisting "Call those bastards, that's what I pay them for!".

3.   Brownies from her favorite coffee shop have some sort of addictive chemical in them and that's why she eats so many.

4.   Farting in public is totally fine as long as you walk away because "it's harmful to keep inside you".

5.   The more pets, the better. Especially of the rescued variety.

6.   Putting clothes on above pets is not only acceptable, but hilarious and warrants a facebook post.

7.   My friend Tony Chin-Quee is the FUNNIEST, and the emphasis should go on the Chin part of his last name.

8.   She can pull off aviator sunglasses.

9.   It's not cool or special unless it comes from a flea market or yard sale. (she's actually remarkably good at finding cool stuff at both places)

10. This is totally the year for the Cubs to win it all.

Oh, Vanessa...