Drowning in Suburbia

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I'm going to come right out and say it. I love Halloween far more than Christmas. Blasphemy! Oh God! But it's true. Has been ever since I was little.

And it's not just Halloween, but the entire month of October. It's like 31 days of increasing spookiness that all leads up to one fantastic night. Granted, this year has been a little iffy with some odd health related issues (damn you cold that refuses to go away), a hockey team that can't seem to win a home game to save their lives, and some serious work drama... but I still have found time to take an obscene bliss in buying pumpkins, visiting a Halloween store, downloading silly Halloween apps for my iphone, watching the obligatory mass amounts of Horror movies, playing Halloween-related things in my usual MMO, and so on. Nothing can kill this month for me...NOTHING.

I guess it started when I was little in the fact that my parents always let me dress up as whatever I wanted. It didn't seem to matter how much a costume cost (within reason...sometimes I got a cheap knock-off) if I wanted to be a mermaid, then dammit my mom and dad saw to it that I got to be a mermaid! Same went for Jasmine from the Disney Aladdin movie (they even colored my hair!), Tails from Sonic the Hedgehog, a Hobbit, Kitana from Mortal Kombat, and so on. Of course I did the obligatory angel one year, a witch, a devil... but I think the seriously custom home made stuff where we ended up dying fabric to make it work was always the best. Hell, I don't even remember it but I have to admit one of the best costumes I ever had was when my parents dressed me up like a bunch of grapes (dark green sweat shirt and pants and purple balloons pinned to my clothing. ha ha)

My parents always made sure to decorate the house...and when I was old enough, once again, let me call the shots there too. If I wanted plastic pumpkins filled with glowsticks to light up the walkway - I got it. Spiderwebs? No problem. Dry ice? Why not? Tombstones hand made from giant blocks of styrofoam? Hell. Yes.

Even if we were out of town on vacation (I can think of at least two times this happened) my mom and dad always made sure I'd still have a pumpkin or two to carve.

In short...they KNEW I loved this Holiday...and they fully supported it. Sure Christmas is awesome in its own right... but Halloween just brings this overwhelming giddiness out of me. Hell, I STILL plan costumes and dress up even if I'm not going anywhere... (Last few years it's been the usual stand-by costume of American McGee's Alice) yes, I'm a nerd like that.

So yes... this week is just awesome for me. I get to carve up 4 pumpkins this year (yes, pictures to come) and I know I'll be doing it while watching some cheesy horror movies that I may or may not have seen a billion times before (Dawn of the Dead will be a must!) as well as watching The Nightmare Before Christmas...because that's just tradition at this point.

And because I live in Southern California... On November 1st it's like a bonus day of skeletons and such... I head over to Olvera Street for all the Dia de los Muertos festivities I can take. Sugar skulls for the win!

And I'll finish on this...

Get your damn Christmas decorations OUT OF THE STORES... at least wait until my Holiday is over! Once November hits I don't care anymore...but dear god I don't want to even see the hinting of pine trees with little lights on them until I'm tearing down the tombstones in my front yard!

How Disney Made Me a Traitor

Tonight at the Honda Center in Anaheim... hockey happens. It's preseason hockey, but it's happening. I guess that makes it the perfect time to finally get something out in the air...

Hello. My name is Sarah. I live in Los Angeles, have all my life. And I am a Ducks fan.

That's right...Ducks. Not Kings. Get your torches and pitchforks ready (For the record I loathe the Lakers and the Dogers too). Guess it's a good thing that the 9th circle of hell (reserved for traitors) is frozen, huh?

How on EARTH did this happen? What has possessed me to commit such blasphemy? I blame Disney. No. Really. I do.

I've grown up in a household with people from the East Coast. New York to be specific. I can remember many instances of my dad grumbling at the TV when I was younger when the Islanders weren't quite playing their best (...I almost feel bad for him nowadays), and he always got a good laugh out of any fight that irrupted at a Islanders/Rangers game.

For some reason though... I could never get behind the Kings. I blame my parents for this (damn NY people). I knew people who were all about them, heck, how could you not? When I was a kid the Great One was on the effin team! Enjoyed watching them, but never really could bring myself to be all "WHOOO Kings!" (ew...I feel dirty typing that)

And then it happened... that fateful year. 1992. I was a huge fan of Disney movies, all of them. So...naturally, that damned Emilio Estevez with a bunch of underdog kids who end up winning movie was seen and enjoyed by me. And then they did it... next year a team appeared in Anaheim by the same name as that movie. Being the lame little Disney-loving 9 year old I was... my team was found. Now, only being a 9 year old with a television with only 13 channels in my room meant I couldn't really watch the Mighty Ducks do their thing, but I still enjoyed hearing about their wins when I did.

Well growing up, as we all do, my interests moved and waned and for a long time I didn't even really think about hockey. Still would watch a game or two if it was on the television, but didn't actively pursue it. Somewhere in college I started gaining interest again (I think a friend started playing in some local pick-up games around here about that time)...and in 2006 I heard the news that my post-college little black cold heart loved: The Ducks were no longer "Mighty" and they were no longer associated with Disney. My team had "grown up"! And with a badass new color scheme (admit it, the "eggplant" and teal combo was hideous) and having shrugged off the corporate identity that, let's admit it we've all become a little sour towards, I latched on.

With my interest piqued once more I started watching... a lot. Once again ignoring the Kings for their rivals... And they were winning. You caught the year I got excited about hockey again, right? The year I semi-randomly went ":D Yay Ducks!" again for the first time in years? Yeah... that would be the 2006-2007 season. Ha. Ha. Ha. I can't begin to express my "OMFG =D" moment that last game. I remember I jumped up and cheered like a psycho... in a room, at a home...filled with Kings fans...which meant they were all cheering for the Senators since I think most would rather take an acid bath than cheer on Anaheim. Oops... Blame Disney.

The next season I watched all I could on TV, I even ended up getting to go to my first actual live game courtesy of my mother as a birthday present. The game was at Los Angeles... Kings vs Ducks. Last game of the season for the Kings at home... and the Ducks won. And once again I was in the minority of cheering. Oops... Blame Disney again.

Last season... having a job made all the difference in the world. I actively went to a LOT of games (some of which were my first post-season games!), cheered my boys on like a crazed maniac, and genuinely had a ton of fun. Even in the beginning of the year when they weren't doing so well I cringed but held my loyalties to my team.

Now we're about to start it all up again. In a year where I now have season tickets. Madness.

So yes: Blame Disney... I know my boyfriend does. Who, by the way, is also a Los Angeles native... and is a Kings fan but apparently also likes watching the Ducks. He must...he agreed to go halfsies with me on the tickets and actually bought me a customized jersey last Christmas. ha ha. I think he's more of an outcast among the Kings fans than I am... dating a traitor like me, tsk tsk. I'm still amused over the fact that every Los Angeles fan during the playoffs last season wanted the Sharks to crush the Ducks...except for my boyfriend. At least the loathing of the Sharks is mutual between us.

So here's to this season! Filled with many a drive down to the Honda Center rather than the closer, more convenient drive to the Staples Center. Yep... Blame Disney.

The great internet extravaganza.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around it (or maybe that's just the post-con-party-thing cold I've caught), but somehow, someway, the internet crossed over into real life. No, it really did! I have the (now infamous) pictures to prove it!

So sometime last year the forums I have been somewhat a part of/spoken to people from/lurked on/etc.. for the better part of their existence celebrated their 10 year anniversary. To commemorate this event it was decided, hey...let's get together at Dragon*Con. Somewhere in my infinite wisdom I agreed, and even more so, nodded approvingly and planned accordingly to extend my trip to a post-con "Alabama Rave".

I can honestly say I wasn't sure what to expect from the trip. After all, the vast majority I didn't really know, some were people I've talked to for 8+ years (which basically means they dealt with me all through my teenage life...and they still talk to me: bonus!), and some who had recently become among the few that I counted as close "far away" friends. I honestly expected a lot of awkward silence and fidgeting, this was a group of Star Wars nerds, after all.

What actually happened? A week full of amazing memories I will cherish for a VERY long time and about 12 new friends made. Dragon*Con in itself wasn't "amazing", I've been to San Diego Comic Con too many times to be baffled by the whole convention scene anymore...but I must admit it did feel a bit more consumer-friendly/run rather than the corporate giants going "lookit what we have for you!". I even managed to get into a Battlestar Galactica panel by only showing up about a half hour before it started - THAT would never happen at SDCC.

The real fun came with just hanging out, meeting, and getting to know an amazing group of people over the course of a week. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry...couldn't have been more true. Each day was a new experience and each one flew by in a flurry of laughter, alcohol, and good times.

So, rather than trying to post summaries of each day for an entire week...maybe I can just list some highlights. And yes, this will pretty much accurately describe the pure madness that was felt the entire time:

• Hilton room 2447 - The Party Place. Glad I was staying there, it meant less work to crash when the madness ended for an evening. Doctor Horrible Goggles, lazy phone lightsaber fight, watching the masquerade on the TV, Captain Kirk is Climbing a Mountain! (Why is he climbing a mountain?),Chris giving me rum, the infamous photo op, Peter Panning, lampshade on heads, random steam punk people!
  
  
• Aquarium - HOLY SHIT GIANT FISH. Honest. The Georgia Aquarium blew my mind. Manta Rays, "Jedi Juice", 3 effin Whale Sharks!, amazing costumes, fishhhhhiesss!!
  
  
• BSG Party - Boo to Jenny not getting alcohol. Tigh puppet, tons of 6s, pilot costumes, fancy auctions, crazy dancing, cylons!
  
  
• Post-Con Alabama Rave - Charley is an awesome cook and him and Christin were great hosts! SARS #4, Senator Horse, ORDER OF THE SCORPION!, fireflies!, amazing...amazing food: tongue and alligator and constant-bliss. Oh my. No end to drunken shenanigans (don't say shenanigans again), Slutty Half-Zeltrons for all!, FOODGASM at the fancy restaurant with fancy bathrooms, jumping off of decks, Liz dancing, Nerf War 2!

I'm sure I'm forgetting things... but these would be the highlights for me. I can't wait until the next get together which now won't be so much as "meeting people from the internet" as "getting to spend time with my friends again". I like that change, I like it a lot.

Oh...and that infamous picture I keep mentioning?

Right here, buddy.

You killed off WHO??

(Beware of spoilers in this. But seriously, the ones I'll mention I'm willing to bet about 90% of people know about If not uhh...read with caution?)

I swear to god there is a conspiracy among authors. A horrible, evil agreement they all must have made sitting at a long square table ages ago that the new and upcoming writers all must sign in accordance with. Oh, not just by those that write novels, oh no. But movies and television shows and comics and just about anything else that requires words to be put down in some form of story.

There's a rule and it MUST be obeyed.

Thou Shalt Make an Interesting, Overly Agreeable Character. And Then Thou Shalt Kill Him/Her/It.

Having recently finished A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin, I honestly found myself sitting there going "Wait. Really? Seriously?? WHY!?" I mean, there were several deaths in there (one of which was immensely satisfying) but if you've read the book, you know which in particular got me all in a tiff. Half surprised they didn't knock off Snow while they were at it... but then I realize I have 3 other books that have already been written and I think another 3 he has yet to write. Oh Jon Snow, my love for you will surely end with your demise.

Do I have other examples of this? Oh you betcha!

(I believe I can rant about Harry Potter books at this point without worrying about spoiling anything for anyone)
J. K. Rowling has earned a special spot of "I'm going to hit you if I see you" for all those she offed in the last two books. But the unforgivable was the particular maiming of George...and then offing Fred. You. Bitch. Adding insult to injury was Remus too. There aren't enough fist shakes in the world for that last book.
...that being said, I still immensely enjoyed the book. I just wanted to throw it across the room when I was reading it at several points.

Even before reading it, I knew Wicked could only end one way, really I did. But the PLAY managed to make everything end all shiny! I did read the book first, but come ON.

Interview with the Vampire bothered me insanely. I know Louis was the main protagonist, but we all know Claudia was really the awesome one. Why couldn't we have it from HER side and have Louis get burnt to a crisp? Huh??

As far as movies go, I think the most memorable here would be from Braveheart. The Campbells were like my favorite characters in the ENTIRE THING. And when the Elder bit it, I sobbed like a pathetic mess. I am a girl. Let's not forget this. But seriously how could you NOT like the old man?

Don't even get me started on Serenity, I think I could rant for a good solid hour on that one and on many a drunken night after watching it, I believe I have.

And while we all saw it coming, Mufasa in the Lion King, wasn't any less sad.

Then there's The Matrix, who introduced Mouse, made us love the little pervert and then offed him just as fast. Bastards.

Even video games mock me! Fallout 3, anyone? I'm sure there's more here that are at fault. I hesitate to mention Final Fantasy 7, just because ...well...I thought Aeris was annoying.

I could probably just keep adding to this list in all the categories but I think you get the idea.

All that rant aside guess I could throw in something that ended up positive.
Tolkien and Eddings both almost earned my ire but saved themselves...

I was fairly young when I read through the Lord of the Rings trilogy and dammit, I sobbed. I cried. Then I got over it. I still want to bitch-slap those that made the trailers for the movies though. The whole "Oh, btw, Gandalf aint dead :D" thing was a MOMENT in those books. One of those things that made you go ":D OH MY GOD!!!!" and they showed it in the TRAILER. Eff you guys.

As for Eddings. Yeah. "Man with Two Lives" indeed. If he'd been "The Man who Got Offed" I think I would have wrote an angry letter...never would have mailed it though. Ha.

So, remind me please, if I ever get the gumption to actually pen/scribble/type out anything noteworthy... I need to follow the rule. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll break it. Kill off the dweeby main character and let that badass on the sidelines live for once.

Comic Con, not just about men in tights!

The very name "Comic Con" I think conjures up a variety of images for people. To those that have been there it can mean a variety of things: Endlessly waiting in a line to get Stan Lee's autograph, endlessly waiting in line to get that exclusive figure, endlessly waiting in line to get into that one panel you really want to see, endlessly waiting in line to get into the restaurant to finally get your food and drink on, etc...etc. To those that haven't been there, well I suspect the images are more of a bunch of freaks in costumes who all have asthma and talk with a slight lisp thanks to their retainers. Okay, so those people aren't quite off the mark either. But with over 100,000 people there on any given day, trust me, it brings out all sorts. The anime geeks, the star wars nerds, the comic elitists, even the film students. So I guess really what my point here is that while it may have started out as a comic convention... Comic Con really has expanded into just a giant gathering of entertainment. Video games, movies, TV shows, comics, graphic novels, even just normal old books, toys, even equipment to create all the above!

Shit, I'm rambling huh? Well I guess that almost can accurately reflect the sheer madness that is Comic Con. So what does SDCC mean to me? It can pretty much be summed up by this: Buying my Living Dead Dolls, stalking a few artists I respect, spotting a few actors, buying whatever books are my fancy at the moment and misc useless figures, making fun of those in horrid costumes while respecting the work put into the good ones, gawking/giddiness over the next big video game or movie or show that I am interested in, and above all else, getting out of LA for a day or two and getting drunk off my ass in San Diego with my boyfriend/friends.

It started out the first year the LDDs did their exclusive there, it was the Blue Eggzorcist and me and the boyfriend decided to just hop on by on Friday one year. Amateurs. We parked almost 3 miles away, I was wearing flip flops and we were by no means prepared for what happened. Little by little over the years we've learned. Get there early, nap in car, drive home later that day (which gave into staying the night, then two nights, and so on). We've added in trips to Sea World and the San Diego Zoo in there too. This last year we went Thursday and Friday, drove home Saturday. Worked out great, didn't overstay my welcome and got home with enough weekend to recuperate before Monday.

Where else but SDCC?

Now all this was supposed to lead back to how Comic Con isn't just about the comics and relate to the funny story of when I came across the guy younger than me bitching up a storm about how Comic Con wasn't about comics anymore with this over elitist attitude...while he was standing in line for the Dexter panel... but the more I thought about it it the less I want to give that jerk any real recognition (more than I've already done) and the more I want to remember waiting in line for a BAG only to have them run out when we got to the booth, me being overly giddy about the Bioshock 2 and Castle Crashers booths, getting something painted by Ben Templesmith, having my photo taken with Adam Baldwin while wearing my Jayne shirt, and getting so drunk I don't remember most of Friday night. Yep. Comic Con...it's not about comics... it's about pure EFFING MADNESS. And I love it.

Despite looking grumpy as hell, EJO was actually uber nice... As was Ben Templesmith (Thanks again for the painting of Phoebe!) Never made it to that Dexter panel, bailed on it because the line was huge, but did manage to see some props over at the booth!

See ya next year, San Diego!

This one's for the old man.

So living in Southern California, Los Angeles specifically, has basically made avoiding the Michael Jackson hoopla impossible. Not that I don't respect the guy for the work he has done, not that I wasn't an 80s kid growing up to his music (Some...school production thing actually had us doing Thriller back in early grade school... and that remains to be one of my fave long-ass music videos, but I digress...)... but let's be honest here, the last few years in particular of his life really have made it so a vast population, myself included, went "Oh, that sucks." and that's about it. I had this discussion with my boyfriend the other day and we both came to the conclusion that, sadly, the MJ we remember has been "gone" for a long time now.

The memorial service yesterday happened over at the Staples Center and really my mind was more on "dear god...this is costing our already uber in debt city HOW MUCH?" and well...traffic issues. We had it on here at the office I work at but I didn't really care too much. I had well, work to do.

By now if you didn't catch the main thing, however, no doubt you've been hearing (and seeing/re-seeing) the clip of his daughter, Paris, speaking. Now one again I find myself loathing how much the mass media is just infatuated with this clip.

just in case you haven't seen it...

But there's something here. Something...well, that actually caused this cynical bitch to pause. Here I am watching some 11 year old girl burst into tears and somehow it actually got to me. I don't think I care so much that it shows some insight onto Michael Jackson's role as a parent... I think I just well... could empathize.

I didn't see "Michael Jackson's daughter, Paris." up there on that podium. What I did see was a young girl, who just lost her father, speaking at his memorial service, in front of 18,000+ people she doesn't know. She chokes up and instantly seeks comfort in her aunt's arms after she basically says something where you can literally hear her little heart breaking. Does that sound sappy? Probably. But as a girl, with a father I care deeply for, I couldn't help but step back and realize that one day...while I certainly won't be an 11 year old girl...that will basically be me. 

Similar circumstances? Not really. And god willing I'll get many more years out of my dad. But one day it will happen. And while I won't be standing up in front of thousands of people when I say my goodbyes at a memorial service, I don't doubt that I too will be telling of how my father was the best there was and say something similar to..."I just want to say I love him so much."

Maybe one of these days I'll even get the gumption to tell him that before it's too late. Even if he'll probably reply with some snarky comment. But that's my dad for you and while I'll probably call him an ass quickly following the sappy comment, I think he'll get it.

Scorchfest 2009

Summer has officially arrived in Southern California! How can I tell aside from the fact that my calender has a big old "Summer Begins" back there on the 21st? Easy. I feel restless, can't sleep, and that thermostat I have that sits on the front "porch" area of my house has already given me triple digits. Yee-fucking-haw.

I'd like to say that I love Summer. I'd like to say that I want it to never end, that Winter and Spring and Fall SUCK. I'd like to...but I can't. Maybe if I lived quite literally at the beach I would like it more, but when the sun is beating down and the heat waves are coming off the ground making you wonder if you're literally cooking as you step outside, that half hourish drive to the coast suddenly seems like a death march. Especially if you are in my car where the air conditioning decided to die last year. Speaking of which...

"No pleasure, no rapture, no sin greater than central air." - Azrael, Dogma

He's fucking RIGHT, you realize? If you've grown up with air conditioning all your life... well let me first off say I hate you and second "You don't know what pain is!" err...heat...is. (And yes yes, I know coming from a semi-spoiled Los Angeles girl I don't really either but this is my damn blog and I'll rant if I want to!) ...my house does not have air conditioning. Now, not saying it doesn't have an air conditioner, actually, we had two! One in the living room and one that for a decent chunk of my childhood, was in my bedroom window. So what the hell am I griping for, right? Ahahaha... well, you see, I think the last time the one in the living room was run was sometime when that house well...wasn't owned by my parents. I distinctly have memories of ivy growing THROUGH the thing into the house. It's not that it doesn't work, it's just so old that I swear it makes the lights in the house dim when you turn it on. So it basically does not exist.

Now the one in my bedroom was a different story. That was my slice of heaven and if I asked REAL nice I could turn it on for about an hour before I went to bed to cool my room off long enough so that I could get to sleep. Another energy hog, it served more as a place for the cats to sleep on top of when they went outside. I remember every year when I would get to turn it on for that first time...the horrible...crunching noises that would happen. I know it was probably just leaves and other such things that had been blown into the dumb thing during the cooler months, but I always imagined it being spiders being ground and squished in the inner workings. I remember always being afraid a bunch would come running out of the vents and into my room. Never happened, but didn't stop that fear.

I remember wanting to throw a fit when my parents replaced the windows in our house and well...away went the air conditioning. Away went the single thing that made MY room the most comfortable place in the whole house in the Summer. And thus doomed me to a box fan in the window and ceiling fans on high like the rest of the place. I don't sleep well in the summer and I have to wonder if it's from the heat...or the drone of the fans.

Soon here, very soon, and probably overdue, I will be finally financially in a position to yes, get the hell out of my parent's place. I practically live at my boyfriend's apartment anyway, but where the head finds rest is still "home" to me and that means the house of heat is still my toasty little oven in the Summer. Hopefully this will be the last one I will have to endure it and then it's sweet, sweet AC for me. Though I do get this impression that I might occasionally turn it on a lower setting during the evenings...if not off completely. And then pull out a big box fan to place up against a screen door leading to that typical apartment balcony and once more resume my insomnia and contemplation of the differences in those subtle changes in tone in the fan droning. You know...or not.

How's your Aspen?

I'll never forgive myself for making that pun but it'd been repeated in my head for too many days now to not go ahead and use it.

I blame my insane love of all things woodland on the fact that for a good chunk of my life my parents took me to Yosemite all the time. I mean like once a year all the time. They have tons of stories of me being a little munchkin running around in the woods. One in particular of when my parents were camping and apparently I wandered off in the middle of the night giggling much to the first panic then amused annoyance of my mother who then tethered me to the tent or something once I was found.

I have tons of other things that happened in Yosemite that I can remember as well - Spending a Halloween there with a cabin full of family and friends and carving pumpkins in my badass 80s Minnie Mouse costume (complete with crappy plastic mask. Hell yes). Being old enough to go with my father into the heart of Yosemite falls... then being old enough to go up into the freezing cold that was Bridal Veil that first time. The epic tale of me and my grandfather vs the mountain lion, the first time it actually snowed, the list goes on and on. All happy memories, one very sad one (the year my grandfather actually died while we were there and didn't go again until well... last year.), but memories that pretty much highlight my entire childhood nevertheless.

So when my boyfriend asked if I wanted to go with him on a weekend trip to his mother's in Colorado and subsequently bribed me with a trip to the "Maroon Bells", I was won over pretty damn fast. I had no idea what the Maroon Bells were. I had no idea it was in Aspen. But one google search later I was insanely excited and let me get this out of the way right now... it did not disappoint.

Apparently I was the animal whisperer. Also saw a snake, some funny little bird that hopped along the trail ahead of me for about 5 minutes, and we had some sort of blue jay hang out with us at lunch.

I really wish I could come up with the wording to describe my feelings during that Sunday we spent there. Excitement, euphoria, bliss...yeah, those don't really cut it. I sense of "I never want to leave" I think begins to edge upon what I was going through. I love hiking, I'm kinda a sissy and refuse to go on "dull" hikes that take me no where - what can I say? I'm spoiled thanks to... well.. Yosemite. I don't care how hard the trail is (last year's venture up Vernal Falls instantly comes to mind), I don't care how much I whine leading up to it, I don't care how many times I may have to stop and take a breather, I'll go and I'll have a blast.

We started out on the hike around 8:30-something in the morning and instantly we had the option of just doing the "scenic loop" or going and trudging it uphill to Crater Lake. Guess what won? (If you guessed the 4 mile round trip to that lake and back followed by the much easier and shorter scenic loop around the lower lake and river after lunch, you get a cookie.) My legs are still a bit sore, the day after was hell to try and move (the plane ride home in particular was less than fun with a sore leg that started cramping up), but I would go again. And again. And again. There was promise of more lakes further up the trail that apparently quickly became a downright bitch to get to for the novice hiker and yet all I could think of the entire time we were there was "someone get me a bedroll and a backpack, let's go!"

Maybe next year.

Seriously some amazing stuff here.

Oh, and for the record... I tried out that SPF 100+ stuff. AWESOME...you know...if you apply it. Somehow I always seem to forget that the part in my hair shows skin and just happens to be on the top of my head where it's most subjected to the wrath of the sun. Amazingly, I'm surviving. Thank god for Aloe Vera gel.

How I found God in a 3.0 FL Oz tube (no, not really)

I would first like to apologize as this entry is being fueled by rum. That means a lot of cursing will probably happen and well...nonsense. But it's RUM. RUMMMM. Nature's Candy, don't you know? (Or was that beets? - heaven help you if you get that reference) But you get a picture at least, right? RIGHT? Oh screw it, I know my drunken photography skills aren't that awesome. This is a shame to the few product shots I have done and I know it. But every little bit helps, I suppose.

So this all started out sometime last year in my epic quest of Irish-heritage pastyness to find "the perfect sunscreen". You see...my skin is white. I'm not talking about just "white" I mean...WHITE, White...been called "Powder" and compared to paper, ok?

I've come close a few times. Bath and Body Works had this awesome SPF 50 thing that smelled like oranges and was wonderful as SIN until they discontinued it. I still own about 5 bottles of it because I found it on clearance and couldn't help myself...even knowing that as a sunscreen passed it's expiration date it wasn't as affective. SCREW IT, even if it somehow gets reduced down to SPF 15 I'll still bathe in the stuff - it's that wonderful. But I digress...

Last year I discovered Neutrogena's "Ultra Sheer" SPF 70. I wore that bitch to the beach every damn time I went and you know what? No sunburn. No greasy feeling. I was in heaven.

Maybe I should stop here and roll back a bit and explain WHY this is such a huge deal to me. Yes, I mentioned I'm white, like uber white. What I failed to mention was the fact that I have experienced numerous sunburns. Now, not the "Oh, you look like a lobster" and it hurts for a few days sunburns... I'm talking full blown sun poisoning, blisters the size of half-dollars, don't make any fucking plans for a few days - sunburns. The last time I got burned I couldn't feel a good patch of my crispified skin and ended up going to the hospital. You starting to understand this better now? No? Then you probably never will. For the rest of you... let's move on.

Sunscreen is important to me. I AM one of those psychos that wears SPF 15 (at least) every damn day and so the thought of going outside...standing in the sun (which actually does cause a great deal of discomfort if I'm not distracting myself with some sort of activity)... well, that's truly terrifying to me. So Summer and I have always had a love-hate relationship. I get to go swimming (which I LOVE), but am often forced to either coat myself in sunscreen every hour or wear a giant white shirt...or both (which I HATE). So discovering that SPF 70 last year was a dream come true...until I saw a commercial on the TV yesterday.

I work in marketing, specifically I MAKE ads...so all advertising to me is scrutinized and glared at. When it spoke of UBA and UBB rays I casually went "Yeah fuckers, I already know." but then it showed that magical, mystical number I had only dreamed of. SPF 100. Not just 100, but 100+. Being the proper American consumer whore I am when I found myself in Target today...I went 'Holy shit, I have to find it." And find it I DID.

Oh Lord, please let it live up to my fantasies.

Now...I haven't actually gotten a chance to test this bad boy out. I bought it tonight but I guarantee it'll be thrown into the line of duty (with that lovely SPF Orangey 50 as a back up if it sucks) this summer. I'll have to get back to you on how it works. But right now, it's earned a place in my "summer kit" and there it shall stay until it has proven itself unworthy. I have joked and waited for my SPF 100 for years. YEARS. And now it is in my hands and I REFUSE to be dissatisfied by it. 

And so it starts...

So I've finally hunkered down, kicked my own wanna-be writer ass and started up a blog. Dear god, may the heavens smite me where I stand. Or...sit as it were.

I debated on the car ride from home as to what to write about here. I don't need another "journal", I have the Twitter for that sort of thing and a failed LiveJournal I can look back on and cringe when I feel the need. So what goes here? I've basically settled for two "categories", random musings and short stories. Something to keep my muse amused when I find I can't write for one of my characters and Photoshop is giving me hell.

So that leaves me with a where to start? What is Blog etiquette anyway? Do I need something profound here? Do I introduce myself to whoever the hell is reading this crap? I guess I could do that, but honestly, that's not why I made this damn thing in the first place so sorry folks, that can't happen.

Nope, instead I guess I'll just throw in my lot with the rest of them. There's a few sayings around here in Los Angeles that run amok. If you live here, no doubt you have heard them and I'm sure everywhere else has their variations, but here's two that always seem to stand out at me: "Los Angeles is like a bowl of cereal. Full of fruits, nuts, and flakes." and "LA...Where you could throw a rock into a crowd of people and you are guaranteed to hit one of the following: An artist, an actor, a producer, or a writer. And you have good odds that they're probably more than just one of those things."

Where do I stand along all that? Well, friends would call me a nut and a flake alike and well, yep, artist by profession and writer by lame. Know actors and producers and plenty of fruits too (Again, I have to remind myself that more than one title fits a person). So I guess here starts my actual "writing", where I'll try and not just drown myself in the random thoughts of various characters, though I'm sure they'll show up in their own short stories and the like. Hopefully this will be a good outlet, for myself, I'm sure you're bleeding from the eyes by this point.

And that's that. Victory, or something like it from just another nut artist in Los Angeles... Drowning in suburbia.