Wouldn't It Be Nice

If the men in LA weren't all gay or taken? Starbucks is killing me today! I'd say I should just get away from Melrose Ave and head to another part of the city, but there's no point in doing so; still gay, or still taken, from Santa Monica to Silver Lake. Fuck.

I Love Lamp

San Diego has got to be one of the - if not the - most beautiful places on earth. Especially La Jolla, which is a place that should only exist in the back lots of Warner Brothers and such. Where the hell else can you frolic in caves on the beaches, with seals on one side of the beach, and warm weather penguins on the other? To say we didn't want to go back to LA would be one hell of an understatement.

Go fuck yourselves, happy couple (but enjoy the scenery while you're at it!)

We were so relaxed (lots of weed and lots of beaches will do that to a person) and happy and carefree. We wandered around the beaches, we went to an Indian Festival in Balboa Park, we wandered into an Afro-Cuban dance class and had fun kicking our out-of-shape asses AND making fun of each other for making fools of ourselves, and it was pure perfection. Pure bliss. Pure happiness.

Of course then we got back to LA. Look at the difference between the serenity of San Diego, and the madness of what happened at Lucky Strike in Hollywood:

You've got a little crack under your nose, guys.

How were we not kicked out? I guess it's cause we're professional backup dancers on tour. Such is the life of a Hollywood celebrity.

California Here We Come (Right Back Where We Started From)

I do need to catch you all up on the things that happened before I left for California: namely, teaching sex ed to 13-15 year olds, and having my car towed and nearly witnessing a shoot out in the process, deep in the ghettos of... Newton?

But for now, I'm back in Los Angeles, and things are already back to business as usual. As of this morning, I've already:

- had my favorite turkey bacon BLT from Toast
- been molested by Andrea
- got a sunburn
- went shopping on Melrose
- tripped over Adrian Grenier when he jumped out of his car too quickly and almost took the both of us out

It's good to be back.

Wisful for the Weather

Let's take a quick look at the current temperatures for my hometown, shall we?

Brisk and freezing! Although better than yesterday's midday average of 27 degrees, wherein it felt like 11 degrees. Nothing says "Holidays!" better than freezing to death when attempt to take the dog for a walk.

Now let's take a look at the temperature of West Hollywood, where I just left:

Not only is it significantly warmer, it actually feels like the actual temperature, rather than feeling 20 degrees colder because of the bone-chilling winds and arctic freezing.

And now here's San Diego, where my bitches are off for a few days of fun, relaxation, and quality time at the zoo:

That's just fucking cruel.


But I have to admit, I kind of am enjoying the weather today, mostly because it means I can wear lots of cute layers and look very homeless-chic, a la Lindsay Lohan. I always knew she'd be good for something.

Last Day in LA :(

Oh my god, I can't believe this is my last day in LA for months :( I can't even think about it, so I'm going to post some pictures from this last crazy ass, amazing week instead:

YOU GIRLS ARE AMAZING <3

Tomorrow's Weather Outlook

Los Angeles:

Boston:

Oh Shit.

Nothing Like Warm Milk to Relax

After stressing so badly about my move out, I can officially say it's over and done! Somehow, every last piece of crap that was taking over my apartment has been packed and shipped (or given away to my friends, in a Very Jewish Christmas style) and I can finally breathe again. Seriously, I was so insane I thought I was going to have a heart attack. And so did my friends, apparently, because they surprised me with a spa treatment at Burke Williams!

For those of you not in LA, Burke Williams is a ridiculously amazing spa in Hollywood, where celebrities and rich people (so: not me) frequent. But the girls surprised me with a milk bath treatment and a calming detox wrap, and holy shit, I haven't been that relaxed since I was in elementary school.  At first I didn't believe them when they told me to sign in, and then I started getting all teary eyed like I've been prone to doing lately, and then I finally got my shit together and went and enjoyed an hour of ridiculously luxurious pampering; I nearly spilled off the table afterwards, I was so boneless.

I don't know how the hell I'm possibly going to survive leaving my friends, even though I know I'll see them in January, and at the latest again in March (fingers fucking crossed.) It's surreal to think that I'm going back to Boston on Monday (Monday!) and that they'll be 3,000 miles away. And of course that makes me teary eyed yet again, because apparently 23 years of surpressing my emotions mean they hit me all at once like a freaking tsunami. But they'll visit in January, hopefully, and they won't die of hypothermia, hopefully, so it gives me something to look forward to. And of course there's New Year and I get to see all of my amazing college friends, so things really could be a hell of a lot worse. 

Packing Sucks

For some strange reason, I used to very much enjoy packing. I was terrible at it, mind you, fretting about things getting wrinkled or broken or somehow shifting unappealing during travel (why, you ask? because I'm insane) but I liked it - it signaled change and adventure and excitement. So I assumed that when I started packing for my move back east, it'd be yet another OCD-riddled excursion in fleeting glee.

I was wrong. 

I've been shuffling around the apartment, irritably folding clothes, shoving DVDs into boxes, and putting every home accessory I have on my kitchen counters, so I can see what crap of mine my friends might want for their own apartments. And it's exhausting. Granted, I'm still in Crippled Mode, so it makes packing somewhat more difficult, but I'm far more mobile than I usually am after an explosion - this time, I just don't want to pack. I want to pull a Barbara Eden, cross my arms and nod my head, and instantly have all of my belongings arrive in Boston. I don't mind if they're strewn about in messy heaps, as long as they get there without me having to put any effort into packing and shipping them. Is it really too much to ask? 

So we'll see. I'm taking a break, but I know I need to actually get my shit together and get the majority of my apartment packed up today. If all goes according to plan, I'm moving out Thursday night, so I need the apartment empty and ready to go, and I need all my shit either already shipped out via UPS, or neatly packed and waiting to go on the plane. And seeing as we're going out for a going away dinner tonight, and I think I'm going to attempt working tomorrow night, I'm a little short on time. So I'll get to it soon. Very soon. Just after this stand up special on Comedy Central is over.

(More) New Beginnings

Okay, so, here's the deal. Once upon a time I had a charming little blog called The Snark DC, which was my first forray into the wonderful world of blogspot.com. Then I moved to LA, and a blog with the term "DC" in it was no longer applicable, so I created LA Celebutard, which I thought was particularly amusing, seeing as it was sort of like the celebutard (never mind that it should be a masculine "le" not a feminine "la") as well as Los Angeles Celebutard. But then I made yet another major move, and realized that maybe I should drop the kitschy location-based names, and just pick something kitschy and versatile. Something I could update and stay on-top of, regardless of where the hell I was at any given moment. And thus Meshugeh was born.

And while technically I haven't headed back to Boston yet, god only knows which direction my life will go in again, so I thought it was smartest to go with something that I wouldn't have to potentially change every 6-12 months. And, somewhere, my Jewish grandparents are smiling down at my choice of a blog name. Or perhaps rolling fits in their graves, but that's a risk I'm willing to take. Sorry, papa. 

So in twelve days - November 24th, to be exact - I move from LA, where the temperature is projected to be 80 degrees:

To Boston, where the projected temperate is somewhere around -100 degrees:
Alright, maybe I'm lying; it's only supposed to be -70 degrees. And as anyone knows, after living in LA from June-November and experiencing something like 150 days of 80+ degree weather, with literally only 2 actual rainfalls (one of which lasted all of 5 minutes), it might take some adjusting, going back to a place with actual seasons. Because a drop from 80 to 79 is not, despite what some out west might say, a seasonal change. 

But I have to admit I've been craving a change of seasons. I love summer as much as the next person - in fact, I've spent the past 21 years (basically since I was capable of speaking) bitching about how much I hated the winter and how strong my desire was to flee to Southern California in order to rid myself of it entirely - but this whole endless summer thing is trying the very last of my patience. I need seasons, I need a change, I need some kind of signal that one chapter of my life has ended, and the next is beginning. That's my fancy BA in English talking, right there. 

But it's going to be harder to leave LA than I thought. Not particularly because it's a nice place - because it's not. And not particularly because I see myself here longterm - because I don't. But because I've carved out a happy little niche for myself here, and because I've made a few incredible, amazing friends, and the thought of leaving them even short-term makes me show more emotion than perhaps I have in years. Those of you that know me know that I'm not a crier, but I've spent the better part of the last week in a perpetual state of 'sniffly-and-teary-eyed' and it's throwing me off all the more. But then look at these hot bitches - can you blame me?

I've always had a lot of acquaintances, but oftentimes I find it hard to find real friends, people that I really connect with and really trust and really feel comfortable with. Despite my amazing college and high school experiences, there's only a handful of people I'd really consider true friends, and, frankly, I didn't think I'd gain anymore coming to LA; god only knows how fake most of the people are out here. But I shocked myself by making a couple of great ones, and even though we've only known each other for 6 months, it feels like a lifetime. Saying goodbye to them, no matter how temporary, is the hardest thing I've had to do in a long time. And that's saying something, considering the insanity that has been my entire time out west. 

So the next 12 days are going to be one big mashup of sadness, mayhem, excitement, and insanity. And the very real possibility of me gaining 20+ pounds, as we embark on the comfort eating binge to end all comfort eating binges.