September 28, 2008

Fool Me Twice

Reasons dating still makes you crazy:

Your hair took longer to straighten than the actual date lasted
You made a rookie mistake of talking and emailing daily for 3 weeks before meeting
You honestly thought, this one could be different
You get in an argument with your therapist when she suggests you may not be looking at this realistically (reality is so bleeping overrated)
You block out the entire day for daytime date because that is what you and date had giddily talked about before meeting ("now we will have ALL day")
You realize as soon as you sit down that this is not the date you ordered
You wonder how long you have to sit there and make awkward chit chat which contradicts the hours spent on the phone in laugh-a-minute conversations
You realize as you get in your car that you have pepper in your teeth and wonder if this is what maybe was the problem
You call all your girlfriends and feel like you just went through a breakup and then feel stupid for taking it all so seriously
You're glad you didn't give him your blog address even though he repeatedly asked for it
You begin accumulating all past dates that have ended badly and curse the idea of it all
You can't believe you shaved for this
You quickly make alternate plans with friends so that you will not go home, cry and watch "Cheaters"
You have more fun with your friends than you did on your date
You sigh, cry, laugh and cry and then sigh thinking about how you must have pulled the joker card for romance when you were born
You realize you got your period and maybe this has something to do with your emotional state and that cramps make everything feel more apocalyptic than they probably should
You go shopping
You work out
You realize that prior to a short time ago, this person, didn't exist in your life and you start to take a mental note of why and how you got attached so quickly
You decide you will talk about this with your therapist even though you are still pissed that she was right the other day when you got in the argument with her
You curse that there are 4 psychics who have told you your soul mate is David and wonder if you should avoid all Davids because the hype is not worth the payoff (and you realize you can never let the David know that you were told this by psychics because it sounds like you go David hunting AND that you actually go to and believe in psychics)
You realize this is the most important time to laugh at yourself even though you are taking yourself quite seriously
You drink
You sleep

You brush it off, stand up straight, shave your legs for you, look fabulous and strut your shit up and down the street because you just checked yourself in the mirror and guess what? You hair still looks fabulous from yesterday's effort.
So enjoy it, flaunt it, relish being single and maybe next time, you may just get it right

Posted by Kirsten at 05:02 PM | Comments (15) | TrackBack

September 23, 2008

Drunk Punch Bowl

So there we were after our little picnic, going our separate ways: Mads and Steven heading to the P1 section and the gals and I heading towards L.

I had already been liberally sipping from my ever-replenished wine cup.

We weren't sure you could have bottles in the Bowl for this show, so we had boxed wine and it holds A LOT. If someone kept pouring the wine, I would keep drinking. And someone always seemed to be pouring.

MGMT was great. The daytime sky began to meld into the evening light that I love soooo much. Dusk is my favorite. Dusk at the Hollywood Bowl while I am drinking is even better.

We danced and laughed and took photos.
We chatted quietly and then not so quietly.

In between MGMT and Spoon, Jazzy and I went to L1 to see Mads and Steven.
"You are DRUNK!" Mads squealed to me.
"Yup" I smiled
They called me a pretzel pusher when I tried to get them to eat the dark chocolate covered pretzels.
"It's dark chocolate so, it's healthy...manga!"
"Pretzel Pusher"
"Sorry...drunk Pretzel Pusher"
"That's more like it," hiccup.

I actually did get the hiccups at one point. Like some crazy homeless guy who carries his drink in a bag.

During Beck, some guy was wandering up and down the stairs, looking at his phone and then looking at the crowd.

Jazzy asked him to take a picture of us. He reluctantly did so.
Then Jazzy's Peruvian cousin asked him to take a picture with her camera.
He did so (again reluctantly) while saying, "What is wrong with you guys? Don't you have email? You email her with the picture I just took."
But we ignored him and he still took the picture.
He felt the need to explain his loitering since if he didn't, he would stand a good chance of being our photographer for the evening and it was clear that he didn't like that option.

"I am looking for my girlfriend. She is in this section but I can't find her."
"You are in a different section?" Tams asked.
"I'll be your girlfriend," Jazzy said (she was also a little tipsy).

And like lightning, he stopped and came to my side (I was on the aisle, next to Jazzy).
"Really? Could you be with a guy who is in an open relationship? Because I think you are hotter than Sh*t!" he said with a lot of intensity.
"What did he say?" Tams leaned over asking
"He said, 'she is hotter than sh*t'" I repeated, sitting between him and Jazzy.

Jazzy got a scared, flattered look on her face and grew silent.

"Oh I see...her bark is worse than her bite." he said nudging me.
"Look what you started," I whispered to her.
"Um..." is all she could say.

I started in on him like, "how does your girlfriend feel about being in an open relationship? I mean, is she really okay with it? Or does she just say she is so you won't leave her?"
"Well, it's complicated. In theory, she is okay with it. It's just the details that get difficult. But she is into women so it makes it a little easier."

Huh? Unless he is talking about threesomes, I don't know how that would make it easier, but I continued asking questions. I am a social anthropologist when it comes to these things. I am not comfortable with fringe relationships, myself, but I am fascinated with people who are in them.

"Here, put my my number in your cell phone and if she changes her mind, have her call me."
"Her name is Jazzy" I told him.
I thought why not allow another Angeleno to add to craiglist missed connections postings.
"But I don't think she will call you. She wants a man of her own."
He stood up, ignoring me.
"Bye Jazzy." He left to go find his girlfriend.
"Well, that's interesting," I said.
Jazzy was still silent with a weird grin. Scared AND flattered AND confused.

The rest of the concert was a blur for me. I wanted to put my head down and rest. I went to the restroom once and I swear it seemed like I was gone for hours. I wandered around and watched people and smiled. I think I almost sat down in some random section because I just grew tired.

I finally found my way back to my seat.

When the show was over, we waited out the traffic and just hung out there in the benches with smatterings of other folks who looked as wasted as I had been earlier in the night. I was starting to feel normal again.

Fall began this week. The concert was a last vestige of the summer I had come to feel had been a roller coaster. Lots of amazing adventures and some stressful times.
But to end on such a great note, feeling so carefree and happy was a true joy.

And that wasn't just because of the wine.
Though in fairness, it was a nice part of it too.

How lushy sounding of me.

Posted by Kirsten at 01:52 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 22, 2008

Otherwise Known as Kirsten the Geeker-Outer

I wanted to title this entry, "Are you there Lauren, It's Me, Kirsten," but since Sarah Grace used that similar title oh so recently, I was challenged to find another one.

But mine would have fit.
Seriously, no joke.

So I went to the M Bar to see Blumesday, which started kind of clunky and made me wonder if this was going to be a long night of funny people being reverent and just reading Judy Blume's works.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that I it wasn't.

The evening did not disappoint.

There was an I-chat with Ms. Blume herself who turned 70 (can't believe it - she looked great) which was kind of cool.

And there were these hostesses Bev and Ronna (youtube them, they are hilarious) who had me laughing my tucchus (sp?) off.

My favorite part of the evening was Lauren Weedman reading "Are you there God, It's Me Margaret." And by reading, I mean, she would start reading and then veer off her in comedic way and talk about something relevant in her own life and then come back to the book. It was inappropriate and raunchy and I haven't laughed so hard in so long. I had heard about Lauren awhile ago when co-worker Garth handed me an LA Weekly with her on the cover. " are funny. Here is an article about another funny woman."
"Thanks" I said half heartedly like, Why would I wanna read about someone ELSE who is funny?
But I kept the issue.
And because I am a slow reader (translation: lazy), it took me a few months to get around to reading the article. I liked it and knew that if I ever saw this woman perform, I would either LOVE LOVE LOVE it, or be very scared and turned off.

So when I saw her name on the roster to be a reader at Blumesday, I was excited to see what she would bring.

She is a prettier Chelsea Handler-esque blondie and she was wearing a blue dress. She looked harmless except for her fingernails which were short and painted black and they were chipping. The whole picture threw me. The rest of her looked so put together. And then she started her reading. And I about fell off my chair. I definitely had tears in my eyes.

When the show was over, Lisa and I compared notes on who we thought did the best and hands down, we both voted for Lauren.

Fun Friday night.

Saturday night, I was meeting Jazzy and the gang at the Hollywood Bowl to see Beck, MGMT and Spoon. I had been looking forward to this concert and I just knew it was going to be awesome.

I took the subway there and then hopped on the shuttle and Hollywood and Highland (the whole trip cost me $1.25!) to be dropped off in a prime location.

I waited for my group. Everyone was running late, so I people watched. It was quite interesting and kept me entertained until Mads and Steven arrived.
I was telling them all about Blumesday and about the wildly inappropriate comic and how hilarious she was. Jazzy was on her way and had my ticket. The plan was for us to picnic before the concert and the table we wanted to nosh at were inside so we had to wait.

Jazzy arrived with Tams and Jazzy and Mads's cousin visiting from Peru.

We headed to the picnic area. Full.
We headed to the other picnic area. Also full. We walked all the way to the end, where we saw two tables: one had a friend of Jazzy's but it was full, and the other had a couple sitting there.

Mads walked over to the couple and asked if we could share with them. The guy said sure and there we, all 6 of us, invaded their date.

I was seated across from the couple. They were quietly murmuring since their date had been infiltrated by us. I looked at the woman and she seemed familiar. She looked like a lot of people you may see around town: blonde, attractive, etc but there was something more familiar about her.
I looked at her nails.
And there, before my eyes, was 10 digits with chipping black nail polish.
I looked back up at her.
"Are you Lauren?" I blurted out.
"I AM Lauren!"
"I saw you last night and hands down, you were the best!"
"Thank y-"
"You were in LA Weekly too, once, huh?"
"Yeah, I wa-"
"Oh my god, I am so trying to be chill but I am coming off like a stalker."
"Are you kidding," Her date said, "She loves this stuff"

And so there we were, talking about the night before. Like we were old friends.
She introduced us to her date/boyfriend and I introduced her to all of us.
And we chatted about the concert we were all about to see.

It was pretty damn cool. And I think I de-geekified myself. Well, at least I hope I did.

The concert was starting and we all parted ways.

This night was already amazing and the show hadn't even started yet.

Stay tuned for the rest of the night, or as I like to call it, Kirsten drinky drinky a little too muchy muchy....

Posted by Kirsten at 04:58 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 19, 2008


Tonight, I am headed to Blumesday to hear people like Jill Soloway ("Six Feet Under") and Carrie Aizley ("Campus Ladies"), Melanie Hutsell ("Saturday Night Live"), Joanna Rubiner, Andy Corren and Maggie Rowe ("Sit N Spin") read passages from their favorite Judy Blume books.

I love living here!

Posted by Kirsten at 10:34 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Reading Takes a Holiday

At a friend's urging, before my move from Portland to LA, I was told to read Sandra Tsing-Loh's "Depth Takes a Holiday" because she humorously nailed what it is like to live in Los Angeles and its environs.

I read it.
I loved it.
And even though I didn't know it then, I would later try and form a life of an essayist and stand up too.

So imagine my surprise when my neigbor Lisa mentions she is heading down to the local bookstore to see Sandra read from her new book, "Mother on Fire".

I invite myself.
I meet Lisa at the bookstore as it starts to fill up.

It took awhile for the evening to start.
Wine was passed around.
Women were chatting like they knew each other.

Apparently they did.

The woman who sat next to us with her infant son, asked us if we were part of the mom's club. We told her we were there just to see Sandra read from her book.

Then someone came up to the mic. It was the head of the Mom's club. She jabbered about this and that and praised certain people in their club. A smattering of people applauded but most of the place was filled with people like Lisa and me were not even aware that there was a Mom's Club.

Then after a raffle and some more jabber, Sandra comes out.
And talks about how she is now a Mother on Fire. She said that men and women differ as they age: men become more conservative and women become more radical. At which point, a few "Yahs" emerged from the crowd. Radical? I don't really get along with radical people. They are so unfunny usually. But this was Sandra Tsing-Loh, who is funny. So maybe she can make radical funny. I got comfy in my chair and waited to laugh from her passages.

Except she wasn't going to read from her book.
Say that again?
She wanted to talk about the state of public schools.
It's what her book is about.
Except that her radical-ness AND not reading from her book is starting to not sit well with me.
She told her radical story in a funny way. But it soon was apparent that even though this was being held in a book store and her book's cover was blown up on poster board behind her, this was a town hall meeting.

The head of the Mom's club got up to speak again. She was the main woman hooting and hollering and clapping and saying "Oh yeah" and throwing her blond highlighted hair back over her pilates driven shoulders and wiggled around in delight at herself for putting such an evening together.

After she was done, they invited the literacy coach from the local elemetary school to speak about the school and how it has gotten better. Again, admirable. But where were we? I blinked a moment wondering if I hadn't fallen asleep and awakened at a PTA meets Town Hall soiree. Frankly, since I don't have kids and I don't want to have kids and I am not a Mother on Fire and nor am I in any Mom's club, this wasn't really my scene.

Lisa whispered, "wanna go?" and before I could answer, I was already out the door.

As soon as we hit the sidewalk, our simultaneous response was "What the fuck?"
We laughed and walked around our neighborhood in search of dinner.

I am glad that Sandra has found a new level to reach people through her writing. It's an important message. And I love kids and know they are the people that will be monitoring my $$ and my meds when I am in my late 90's, so I know it's important to care. It's just not my scene at the moment.

I loved the first book I read of hers because it was something I could relate to. So I guess it is my turn to write something that future essayists will be able to relate to.

And at my reading, you will know it's a reading. Because I will actually be reading.

Posted by Kirsten at 10:19 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 17, 2008

Kibitz Room Goggles

After a very exhausting week, Jazzy and I headed to El Coyote last Friday to eat the guac, shoot the shit and drink the margaritas.
We decided to order something other than the tostada salad (which we ALWAYS get) and go with something that turned out to be yummy. It also turned out to be what every person in our section had ordered and our loopy waitress got EVERYone's orders wrong. jazzy and I started having phantom conversations with her since whenever you would start a real one, she would walk away talking to herself.

After dinner, we were still up for hanging out and decided on our new favorite place The Kibitz Room.

It wasn't crowded and we wondered as we sat there for a bit, if we hadn't made the wrong choice.

But then the place started to fill up 10 minutes later.

Some guy kept eyeing Jazzy and he finally approached our table with the line,
"Do you girls know boxing?"
"No," we said, simultaneously.
"I am a kind of famous boxer."
"Nice try," I said being the boner shrinker (thanks Amy P/Hillary), "If you had asked us if we were into fly fishing and we said no, would you have told us you were the premiere fly fisherman?"
Jazzy and I laughed at his expense.
But he persisted.
He actually was quite funny and Jazzy and he had a very good reparte going. Almost a love hate relationship. He "rumplestilskinned" her. If he could guess her last name in three guesses, she had to marry him.
We laughed.
She told him it was 5 letters and started with a "C" and he said immediately, "Cortez".
"That's 6 letters" she said.
"Jazzy, your kids will be no brain surgeons." I poked.

He then came up with a new plan. If he didn't guess her last name, she would have to go out with him.
Give the guy points for trying. And being persistent.

His friend was another story.
Kind of cute.
Kind of not.

He approached me saying, "I know you want to take me home," as he grabbed my hand and kissed it.

Guess again.

He slid next to me into the booth and proceeded to point out every beautiful woman in the bar to me.

He then would ask me serious questions. I answered glibly. He would get annoyed. So I would answer seriously and without fail, he would interrupt me and yell out to ANYONE passing by the booth, "WOOO HOOO!"

I learned from him that he was a pot farmer.
And that he found LA life to be complicated. When I asked him why, he interrupted his own story several times with "WOOO HOOO" and I never got the whole answer. Something about people and their lack of respect.
I learned from his friend that he was going to jail in a few weeks.
I looked at Jazzy and said, "Am I talking to the guy who is going to jail in a few weeks?" and she nodded.
"That is what I thought"

He wanted to take me to a strip club. He marveled at my looking younger than my age. He and his buddy were both the other side of 30 and looked like they could be pushing the other side of 40, skipping the 30's all together.
At one point, my pot farmer looks at his friend and says, "these girls are too sober."
Jazzy pointed out that if he didn't like that we didn't have drinks that he could remedy that.
So my pot farmer tells me to take a drink from his beer.
A charmer like no other.

At 1:30am, after meeting several people who stopped by our table and joking with the best of them, Jazzy and I were decided it was time to put the lid on the night. My pot farmer grabs my hand and says, "seriously, am I coming home with you tonight?"
"Seriously? No."
"I am proud of you for being smart enough not to take me home."
"Aw thanks. I am not new to this you know."
"I know. But know better and that makes me feel better."

Glad I can assuage his guilt.

As we were leaving, a very handsome East Indian man walks up to me and says hello.
I ask if he is an actor.
He says he is a dentist.
I tell him he looks too young to be a dentist. (look at me and my lines)
He hands Jazzy and me his cards. Her boxer gets all bent out of shape and jealous and says to the guy, "they are never gonna call you."
I don't know how to right-hook someone, but I would have. Instead, I told Boxer to "shut it". This Dentist was cute. And he worked in Beverly Hills and whitened teeth. Not that I am superficial but when the universe hands you lemonade, you don't try and find lemons to squeeze. You drink the lemonade. Maybe even add vodka.

And you thank said universe that even though you don't look your age, you have learned from your years that you are no longer that girl in the bar who thinks the pot farmer, for all his backwards, woe-is-me, going-to-jail, no one-understands me charm, is a fixer upper. You leave him Whoo Hoooing everyone, sitting in the booth to ponder how is life will be different in 2 weeks.

And you leave with several cards you probably will throw away the next time you clean out your purse and Whoo Hoo yourself that you don't care.

Posted by Kirsten at 05:33 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 12, 2008

Miss Cleo tells you how it is

The plan last Saturday was to have fun.

I was to go to a workshop in the afternoon. It was to learn how to tap into my psychic abilities. As I thought, I am not really psychic. I did, however get some things dead on so maybe I am more intuitive than I give myself credit for. All I know is that if the numbers that appear to me in a flash, actually won me something in the lottery, I would believe a little more in my abilities.

After some psychic energy, I headed over to Tom Bergin's to meet Mads and Jazzy. The plan was to go to a networking event, drink some, schmooze some and chat some.
It was a really fun time. We met some interesting folks. We hung out for awhile with a guy who was engaged to a certain KCRW DJ. She was DJing so he hung out with us for a little. He told me he came back from Burning Man and I made an "UCK" sound out loud. I apologized and told him that I just ended something (yet again) with a certain Burner. I automatically liked this guy we just met when he responded with "What an a-hole, we don't like him."
He actually kind of redeemed Burning Man a little for me. I now don't think they are ALL sex-crazed pervies running around in the windstorms of Nevada. Mads and I jokingly talked about making a documentary next year of the whole event. I can't picture that ever happening but stranger things have happenend.

So as the night was waning there, we headed on foot to location 2 which was to LACMA for a really cool exhibit that featured photographs from 1973 from a project where LACMA hired photographers to take fashion and street shots. Or something like that.
I actually never got to see the exhibit.
The show ended at 11pm. Our arrival time was 10pm. We had purchased tickets online and were ready to keep the party train a-moving.
Except that LACMA had other ideas. Like, keep our money and not let us in.
There was a growing number of us who were not happy about this turn of events.

The security guards were looking at us like we were demonstrators ready to throw flowers at their guns. "The box office is closed, m'am. I don't know what you want from me."
"We want to get in."
"It's at capacity", he said as throngs of people were leaving.
Just then, Rachael walks out and says, "Let em in, they're with me."
We laughed for a moment.
And by we, I don't mean the security guard who now was walkie talking to get back up for a "situation of trespassers".
"WE are trespassers?" I screeched. "YOU are thieves who took our money!"

Emotions ran high. Jazzy was like, let's get out of here. And when Mads and I looked around and saw the people who we were now aligned with, we realized it was better to split. They were crazier than the security guards.

We still had some rocking and rolling to do.

We ended up at the Village Idiot.

A group of guys from Michigan let us sit at their booth. One of them works for Found Magazine. He was impressed that I had heard of it when we chatted before he needed his nicotine fix. When Mads and I headed to the bar to cash out, a guy approached her. Turns out he was a guy she had had one date with years ago. His name was Peter. He was pretty cool. My favorite moment was when he said, "How has internet dating been treating you?" and she lifted her left hand and said, "Good. I got married." His face sort of fell.
But he tagged along with us to a party the Michiganders invited us to.

I ran into a guy who I had gone out with once. I think I thought it was a date then...and he didn't. But whatever. He was a Groundling and got me in for free to see his show at the time and it was a fun night regardless.

He laughed that we were headed to a party at 12:45am. I told him that's what Saturdays are for. People are you writing this down? My bon mots are golden.

The party reminded me of college. Peter said it was more like when you are out of college and have your first job and throw crazy parties.
He was right actually. That is exactly the kind of party it was.
At one point, one guy frantically ran around to all of us, "The cops are here, the cops are here!"
Peter smirked and said, "Should we hide our crack?"
He stone faced replied, "If you got it, you better hide it."

We all started cracking up. We didn't even have drinks in our hands.
We were so blase about the whole thing.
That made me feel old.
Or very LA.

We left shortly afterwards and dropped everyone off at their various cars.

Plans change, but according to my psychic abilities, I knew I would have fun.

And I did.

I guess I am psychic afterall.

Call me for a reading. I will reveal all you want to know.

Posted by Kirsten at 04:40 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 04, 2008


My worlds are converging.
And it's all because of Facebook.

I am a Myspace girl myself, but it seems people from my past like Facebook/trust Facebook/choose to let their time be sucked away with Facebook better than Myspace.

And that is cool.

Because I am getting in touch with a lot of people from my past.
Which is good and bad.
There are a lot of people I have parted ways with. Some intentional, some situational, some who knows why.

But it curbs the curiousity bug of "where are they now?"

And what I am trying not to do is compare if people are in a better or worse place from me.

Because let's face it, someone is always worse off and someone is always better off and I like the odds to be more in one camp than the other.

I found (through my super-sleuthy/stalkerlike ways) an old friend from college.
She wasn't as much a friend as an experience. Not in a lesbian way. But more in a I will sit back and watch what her life is like way.
I was kind of envious of her.
She was the free spirit I never could be.
But her demons were bigger than mine or she had something different to prove to herself.
I will write a story about her one day because she has been on my mind.

I like to think I am a character that people would always remember.
I used to want boys to write songs about me and blah blah blah...
She was the kind of girl who was a character you would remember and the kind of girl boys DID write songs about. They wrote songs, poetry, painted pictures, etc.
She had a wild past.

It looks like she has a kid now.

I thought she would either be traipsing the world or perhaps have died due to her risk-taking ways.
But there she was. Living a cool, quaint life. At least what I derived from the photos. You can learn a lot from photos.
That is what I tell myself when my imagination takes me to places that are better left to fiction.

Every day, I get a new request from someone or I find someone from my past.
And it makes me question how far (or not) I have come.

But then I have a wonderful summer like I have had and I reflect on all the conversations and dinners and brunches and performances I have participated in and I realize...that wondering who, where and what I am is kind of antiquated for me.

I move forward.
I live better than I have.
I am less sad.
I am more content.
And it's nice to see Facebook being a living photo album of my past coming to life in my present.

Most past transgressions are forgotten and emails of catching up take their place.

And I smile thinking about how many people I have known and how many adventures I have had.

A boy never wrote a song about me.
But I can write my own story.
And I do.
Every day, one little story at a time.

Posted by Kirsten at 10:01 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack