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.