Summer of Surprises

It's getting hot in LA. We still have our breathable days, but the other day I opened my car door and thought perhaps I'd entered into some giant oven in the sky and I was a live, squirming piece of meat shoved into it. Summer seems to be coming early, because it usually doesn't get really bejesusly hot until July and August, and then unless you permanently take up residence on the sand or become a merperson, you begin to think you wish you lived in a place with seasons so we didn't get so punished for five to six weeks for not having to suffer through winter. But then September comes and you laugh at people buying winter clothes and you forget all about that time you wanted to die a month earlier.

But it does remind me of what I love about summer. Themes! Okay, themes run rampant everywhere in my life, including daily wardrobe choices, but summer brings out the grand themer in me. Each summer I get unnecessarily enthusiastic about one particular thing and proclaim that I'm going to make it the common thread that I sew through every day of summer. It somehow makes summer feel more festive now that I'm an adult and don't have actual summer vacations.

Here's a look back at some of the highlights:

Summer of White 2003

This is not actually from the Summer of White. But I am wearing white. In a white room. Looking especially white.

Ah, Summer of White. The inaugural summer. The year the first Paradise Hotel ruled my television set, and the summer I lived with my best friend Melissa in a cool loft building with a pool. We'd come home from our boring jobs and make blended alcoholic drinks and talk about Paradise Hotel in our pool. It was a glorious summer. And I made the conscious decision to wear white practically every day. It was a good look. I felt bright and clean and fresh and it had a nice effect on my psyche. The boring job I held that summer was managing a small Pilates studio and one time the massage therapist complained someone used the washing machine for their own laundry and she'd known it wasn't me because nothing in there was white. That's when I knew Summer of White had made it's mark. A tradition had begun.

This summer was subtitled Summer of Shout, because I'm a mad spiller, and white is probably not the best thing to wear everyday when you are me.

Summer of Mint 2005

More theory than praxis.

This was a particularly strong theme in my opinion, but unfortunately it never took off. Mint is so refreshing, so cooling, it's a perfect summer theme. At the beginning of summer I had high ambitions that I was always going to have a pitcher of chilled mint water at all times in my refrigerator, as well as find exotic recipes that included mint, if only as a garnish. But it never gained momentum. I am still a huge huge fan of all things minty, so this will be revisited at a later date.

Summer of Avocado 2006

No. You are.

Summer of Avocado could also be called Summer of Guacamole, because I consumed probably a gallon a week of that Mexican delicacy. I was supremely dedicated to this theme and have actually never abandoned it. I still consume about a gallon of guacamole a week. But this was the summer that really put it on the map. It's the time when I wasn't afraid to stand up and say, "Hey. Avocado. I love you. Let's make this last."

I have also long held the belief that if I were a fruit, I would be an avocado.

So sweating and choking on smog, this week I began thinking about this summer's theme and realized it could very well be this:

Contender for Summer of 2008 Theme

My subzero on a happy day.

My diet has become 80% delicious, exciting drinks from Whole Foods. I used to be a water drinker. I felt that was all I needed and didn't understand the fuss of sodas, iced teas, et al. But now, NOW! I live to have my top shelf filled to the brim with new and novel beverages from high-end organic retailers. Notice there are no Sprites, no Snapples. This is an urbane, evolved exploration of the daytime drink. I love opening the door and seeing a rainbow of elixirs. Some healthy, some sugary, some calming, some caffeinated. I might just be willing to embrace this as my summer love, but it's still too early to call it. Especially when there are massive changes afoot.

Because on a bittersweet note, this is officially the last month with the subzero, truly the Cadillac of refrigeration devices. I'll be moving on at the end of May and taking my cornucopia of beverages with me. I'll miss the Silver Lake hipster shed, but I have high hopes that something marvelous is around the corner. The spring changes are giving birth to a summer of new and the theme is yet to come.

Hotbox my inbox

Below is an email exchange from this weekend, which proved that while pot smokers tend to be forgetful, they easily find humor in said forgetfulness.

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from: My Friend
date: Sun, Apr 27, 2008 at 10:30 AM
subject: forgive me!

I NEVER HAVE DONE THIS EVER IN MY INTERNET LIFE. I am forwarding a link to a page which VERY EASILY forwards a letter to your state representative regarding DECRIMINALIZING PERSONAL MARIJUANA USE.

Whether or not you are a midnight toker, the legalization and taxation of marijuana alone would be enough to fund a national healthcare system. Or improve school systems, social programs or would be instrumental in LOWERING YOUR TAXES. This is a win-win-win.

California has made HUGE strides toawrds decriminalization, now is the first time this serious momentum has been put into action. PLEASE go to this link - it takes 10 seconds - and forward a letter supporting decriminalization.

Or risk getting a phone call from me in the middle of the night asking you to help bail me out. And horizontal stripes do not flatter me. Have mercy.

Much Love - hope all's well.

***************************

from: Lady Sensation
to: My Friend
date: Sun, Apr 27, 2008 at 11:36 AM
subject: Re: forgive me!

girl, i don't know if you're making an argument for smoking less weed, but you're gonna have to include the link if you want us to help you out.

***************************
from: My Friend
to: Lady Sensation
date: Sun, Apr 27, 2008 at 11:45 AM
subject: Re: forgive me!

OMG!
that is hilarious!!

hahahahahahaha!

***************************

from: My Friend
to: Lady Sensation
date: Sun, Apr 27, 2008 at 5:45 PM

i think you should post that whole exchange in your blog. I'm dying.

Point taken, 'little miss fully functioning brain cells'

!

xo

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I may go over everything with a fine-toothed comb, but I wouldn't say fully functioning. My brain cells are goin' down, too. I just prefer to crush mine slowly by suffocating them with neurotic thoughts. It's my own brand of torture and I can hear them begging for mercy, wishing I just did drugs.

Speaking of pot humor, Pineapple Express actually looks hilary! Never one to find being stoned a punchline and growing a bit weary of the Apatow empire, I thought I was gonna steer clear of this one, but hey-o! Maybe it's the M.I.A. song or this James Franco individual (Where'd he come from?). But suddenly I'm loving the pot lovers.

London Wife: The dream job with a green card

Anyone hanging around Camp Sensation these days knows I'm on the hunt for some Gainful Employment. And that search has taken me far and wide. Los Angeles just doesn't seem to contain my dreams and ambitions at the moment. (I realize there is a built-in question there: How could Los Angeles not contain everything you dream of? And to be honest, it does. But while I am still working out critical details of my novel, which will garner an initial three-book deal and then be adapted and turned into a lucrative movie franchise, I'm pretty much freelancer to The World.)

So, I started to toy with the idea of New York again yesterday, as well as actively pursue a more serious commitment with my long-standing fling, San Francisco. And then this morning just said, "F*ck it. Let's see what the WORLD has to offer!" So off I went to jolly old England, where I found a casting for the greatest role of all: Wifey. It's mighty tempting, given that I possess the necessary skill set AND sexual "fluency" (not even a requirement!).

Here is the post in case anyone wants to beat me to it. My comments are italicized.

****************************
Wife (UK)

London based entrepreneur, 41 is seeking a person of graduate calibre or above, highly motivated and with a strong desire to be successful in whatever they do, for a challenging position of long term partner/wife.

The successful candidate will have a proven track record of handling a wide variety of situations and challenges, good organisational skills, common sense and personal initiative while being able to teamwork. Excellent personal manner, creativity and artistic approach are important and for the right person the job will be a varied, exciting and challenging position.

(Okay, admit it. You copy and pasted that from every job posted on Craigslist. That paragraph is in every job I've applied for. All that's missing is the mention of a 401k and paid vaycays. Seriously. If you want me to bring my A-game to your home environment, you best be ready to hook it up with a timeshare in Seychelles.)

Operating from the stylish premises in North London in a fun and supportive atmosphere, you'll deal with high-priority tasks and use proactive methods in managing overall workload. Specific duties include, but not limited to:

• Child bearing and upbringing (I've always referred to my extensive nanny work as MILF training. Bring it.)
• Creating and maintaining positive atmosphere in the immediate environment (I get enthusiastic about my smoggy, trafficky neighborhood in LA. Staying positive in tony North London would be cake.)
• Coordinating meeting food/catering requests (I don't even have to cook? That's more chillaxed than I thought. Do they have good reality shows to watch while I call the caterer and do my nails?
• Anticipating and planing for upcoming needs (I don't meditate everyday for nothing. Learning how to intuit my man's needs is half the reason I do it. For the right man, I'll bump that number up to sixty percent.)
• Maintaining stylish looks of herself and the immediate surroundings (I live in LA. You don't get to live here if you're not at least somewhat vain and concerned with appearances. Done and done.

No ironing skills are required for this position. (I was gonna ask for a referral from the caterer for that kind of thing anyway.)

The compensation is negotiable. This is a permanent position following a period of probation. (Yes, a good wifey does need a substantial allowance. But the permanent part might have to be negotiable.)

You'd need

• To be well-spoken, charming and outgoing (I'm nothing if not svelte, witty arm candy.)
• Have interest in arts, sport and literature (Check. Sports, I'll sign off on, since calling soccer "football" just sounds so adorable.)
• Be smart in appearance (My glasses definitely make me appear smart.)
• Be between 25 and 35 years of age (Yes.)

Sexual fluency is a plus but not crucial as training will be provided. (No training required. I'm a steal!)

Please apply via email enclosing covering letter explaining why you think you are the right candidate. Please enclose full CV, some photographs and brief description of your expectations from this position.

****************************

Wish me luck, guys. "Mail order bride" isn't actually on my "CV", but I think if I just send over a link to this post, this accomplished and established gentleman will see that I'm just perfect for him.

Badvertising

My agent said I would have a better chance of being a contestant on MILF Island if I recycled.

I risked bodily harm and a possible jay-standing violation to bring you this hard-hitting photojournalism. I stood in the middle of National Blvd just below the 10 freeway to capture this newest addition to the green marketing canon. Now most advertisements aren't known for being genius works of art, but at least try to make sense.

I was pulling onto the 10 east earlier in the week when I saw this smug stay-at-home informing me that she recycles. And her "reasons are her own". Initially I just felt a little put off by her defensive stance on recycling (like why would anything to do with recycling be a secret?), but immediately chalked it up to the fact that my whole life I get a little icky when people are quick to say things like, "That's none of YOUR business" or "That's for ME to know" or something equally presumptuous that you actually give a shit.

But then I realized that her story didn't even check out. Because correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there just, you know, ONE reason to recycle? Maybe I'm living in a limited world, but I didn't know one could have a litany of reasons to recycle. Like, my Bunco game is sooo much better when I recycle. Or, my husband doesn't beat me when I recycle. My little brain thought we had "saving the earth" and that's about it.

And also, why try and make recycling such a personal, private endeavor? Like I lovingly place each empty kombucha bottle in a blue bin and reflect with a serene smile on my own personal motivations for doing so. Get over yourself, bottlesandcans.com. We're trying to reduce waste in landfills and there aren't many other ways to approach it. That said, if you need a new copywriter, my services are available!

I'm gonna love him, and squeeze him and call him George.

Baby animals, not bombs.

These blue-eyed love muffins appeared in Ex's backyard last week and I finally made it down this weekend to witness the perfection firsthand. Soft, fuzzy creatures plus the opportunity to speak incoherently twelve octaves above my normal speaking voice equals I'm in! It's been a while since I've been in the presence of such brand new kittens and the cuteness is remarkably overwhelming. When I get them in my paws, I'm afraid I'm going to get so excited I'll crush them, just like the mentally challenged individual in the PETA classic, Of Mice and Men. You pet the kitties too rough, your brother shoots your head off. Any questions? I'd say that fear in their eyes was for me, but I wasn't at the photo shoot.

I know what you did a bunch of summers ago.

Your pedicure is about to get effed up hard, sweetcheeks.

That last post sparked my memory a bit and reminded me that there was another time in my life when fright was in fashion. In high school a small group of friends and I became obsessed with renting the worst (i.e. awesomest) horror movies on the Blockbuster shelves.

We invented this game where we made each member of our group a character in the movie, (I particularly loved being the dumb blonde slut.) and relished as each character got picked off in some over-the-top, farcical manner, hoping ours made it too the finish line. We got to root for ourselves as the fat kid, the old person, the gimpy person. It really made us empathize with every walk of life. If we got killed off too early in the movie we were allowed to switch characters. I encourage you to adopt this interactive practice into your own life to experience maximum viewing pleasure of any movie. It works best with horror, but I'm sure is still fun even if your cup of tea is, like, Atonement.

And we went deep. Most of the names of the movies during this time period escape me, which is a shame because there were some real treasures in there. Of course, Piranha was a pretty unforgettable classic, but I think our crowning glory was this:

Despite what you might think, that's not my genius photoshop work. Though I wish it were.

"They love their grandchildren...well done"?? Could that tagline writer be a bigger genius? I still don't understand how a story this sophisticated and crowd-pleasing did not win an Academy Award.

So feel free to play this game yourselves and let me know how much y'all love it, too. No thanks required. I just like to give back when I can.

"The Ruin" of me.

But we're too pretty to die!

I love to be fake scared. I've been a late bloomer to the zeitgeist, but for the past several years, I've been loving some popcorn horror films. So much so that last night I went by myself to a late showing of The Ruins.

I'm not into the Saw oeuvre or whatever Rob Zombie does, which for someone reason seems trashy and tasteless (I know, makes no sense), but I am an enthusiastic fan of horror movies about a group of pretty white kids on a vacation that goes way way awry. (read: Turistas, The Descent, Hostel 1 and 2, and now, The Ruins) Keep 'em coming, I say! As long as there continues to be over-privileged youth, vacation spots and weirdo ways to kill said youth, there will continue to be a place for these films in the world and, of course, my heart.

I love the silly anguish that overcomes me, curling myself up in a little ball, half-shielding my eyes with my hoodie. The suspense! The agony! The knowledge this was completely avoidable had one person not had a harebrained and/or slutty idea! I wring my hands and think about how so-and-so was right. A Cassandra in a sea of Trojans. (Luckily the Cassandra is the one that survives. Prudence usually pays.) I dream up all the ways things could have worked out differently had one key decision been made. I try and figure out what I would do in that situation.

I get the same reflex when I see a live performance of Romeo and Juliet. I always have the urge to yell out to Romeo in the catacombs when he thinks Juliet is dead and tell him not to take the poison. Especially because they are live performers and they could hear me! I swear the desire would overtake me, except, fortunately, the knowledge of ensuing mortification overrides it.

I am not sure why I enjoy these misery fests so much. I'm pretty wimpy and hate actual violence. I chalk it up to the fact that these are so ridiculous, I can get the scare without the scenario feeling remotely real. Plus, my life is cake in comparison to what they're dealing with. Even on my most grim days, at least I'm not lost in a cave nobody knows about, covered in my dead friends' blood, having to deal with this fool:

Hey there, handsome.

It's all so life-affirming!

Scribe

It's a common phenomenon that after a few months of the initial blogging thrill, most bloggers cool off. Their posting numbers decrease from month to month and the honeymoon period, fraught with initial posting fervor sadly wanes to a paltry, complacent once-a-week situation. At best. And it would appear that Lady Sensation has fallen into this trap. In fact, I even got the monthly drop off percentages sent to me by a keen observer and I was highly embarrassed.

Because let me assure you, lack of interest has nothing to do with my scarcity around these parts. I'm just writing so much these days I've had to put the not-so-sensational-at-the-moment Sensation on the back burner. I just don't have time in the day right now and that makes me sad.

I've jumped back up to two shows at TVgasm (always late). I am also creating posts for a clever, cheeky LA blog (more on that soon). And I am also submitting for actual writing jobs with some semblance of structure. (Tax season always makes me long for a W-2.)

So I've also been mocking up copywriting materials and I'm not so sure I'm cut out for that line of writing. I got to the test portion in applying to do all the written material for a large fashion group and had to do a write-up/ review of their fall runway show. My submission was about half the word count suggestion because I couldn't come up with any more synonyms for "flirty", "feminine", "elegant". It exhausted me. And I have a veritable thesaurus in my head. Copywriters, how do you do it? That said, call me back! I am still jonesing for that 401k and some expensive clothes.

Once I get a handle on all these new projects and things simmer down, hopefully I can get back on track. Either that, or I'll let you know the design empire I get hired to write for and you can go read the written advertising in stores around the country. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

Rock of Love

Virtual Lady Sensation

I rocked so hard this weekend, I broke a Playstation. I discovered my new passion in life, eclipsing all other passions:

Catapulting my rock band on the video game Rock Band to international stardom.

I became so preoccupied with this task everything else fell by the wayside. I was introduced to this marvelous phenomenon at Ex's Rock Band party Friday night. At first I simply found it to be an amusing thing to do with a group of people, much like renting a karaoke room with friends, with added instruments and a scorecard at the end. A sort of Dance Dance Revolution for your fingers.

We rocked it till 2 am and, completely spent (not really ever staying up into single digits), I thought I was done with Rock Band until the next gathering. But the next morning Ex asked if I wanted to jam again, just us. And this is when I was introduced to the "Create a band" function. And my world was turned upside down. Maybe I am the last person to discover this gift from god, but did you know you can create a personalized band with your own name, get a manager, make set lists, tour all over the world and "earn" new, locked songs by performing well? It's amazing. It's a nuanced, sophisticated world and I can honestly say that I have created the hottest avatar ever in my likeness and she even wears knee high socks like me. I am obsessed. I'm an egomaniac. I'm also the lead singer of our band.

Much like rock 'n roll itself, Rock Band is a lifestyle. I looked at their website while researching this post and found that there is a worldwide "community", music videos, a merch area. It's the perfect blend of rockstar and dork. Everything I stand for. I get thousands of fans and never have to leave the house.

But unfortunately, there is a sad end to this tale. After spending the entire day touring relentlessly with our band, late Saturday afternoon, the game stopped responding. I was hoarse and we both realized we had other things to do so we finally called it a day. We didn't realize anything was seriously wrong until tonight when we both succumbed to rockstar excess and realized we couldn't live if we didn't indulge ourselves more, only to discover that the whole Playstation device is not working. The box could not handle us. I don't know what all has to be done to repair or replace, not having played a video game since original Nintendo, but now it looks like it'll be a while before I'm back on the mic. I am so sad. Which is probably for the best, because already the rockstar lifestyle is taking over my soul. I want nothing more than the roar of applause and a "most gutsy" performance superlative.

But I miss you already, Rock Band. Please feel better soon. If I were an actual rockstar, I would write you a beautiful ballad.

Fated to pretend.

Mission Aborted

Meet my friend:

I'm more than just a hot piece, ladies and gents.

This is Dr. Schulze. Most people probably aren't aren't familiar with Dr. Shulze, but he's sort of the Tony Robbins of herbal products. Passionate, moving, just this side of a cult leader. As a connoisseur of natural remedies, I can attest that his concoctions are simply the best, and I'm a huge fan of his one man mission to topple to the FDA with his radical approach to herbal healing. I am perhaps simply jealous of anyone so purposeful.

Every spring I do his liver cleanse. It involves three days of juice fasting, book-ended by two days of raw fruits and veggies. You start your day with a delicious ginger, garlic and olive oil drink and pepper the day with several foul tasting formulas for detoxing. It's truly nasty stuff. It's damn hard, but I always look forward to how fresh and alive I feel at the end of the week. Of course within a week, I'm hittin' cupcakes and all types of processed foods again, but at the end of those five days, I actually contemplate not breaking the fast. So unencumbered by dense matter! So unattached to the earth plane! Unfortunately, this is sort of my thing in general and this week is not the week to indulge my natural desire to disengage from the world.

I knew my plate was full this week (figuratively!), but was still ready to plow ahead, so committed to a thorough spring purge was I. So yesterday Ex and I started the cleanse and by the end of the morning I knew I was in trouble. I assisted him shopping at the Promenade, while he hunted for all the white clothing he could possibly find. (White is the color of summer this year.) I already felt weak and distant but diligently followed him from store to store. I was already avoiding responsibility after one missed meal. If I don't have my morning baked goods to tether me, what reason do I have to participate in this charade we call life?

So, particularly unbearable on this jaunt: Abercrombie and Fitch and Diesel. A&F was so loud, it sounded like a discotheque from across third street. I rarely think of the plight of others, but I actually spent a moment feeling for the employees and wondering how they could hear each other over the throbbing house music. How could one not go insane during an eight hour shift of that? Diesel, okay I was cranky, but I'm so over the gay Euro vibe, the clothes hurt my eyes and I wanted to kick the Freddie Mercury wannabe, Williamsburg hispter dude working there in the shins. What are you doing in Santa Monica anyway? I did pull it together to recommend hitting up Zara, which turned out to be dynamite in the white department. But I felt exhausted being in charge of pulling different sizes and wrangling assistance. And I'm usually totally good for that kind of thing.

By five pm, I had not done returned one phone call, nor responded to a single email, because I couldn't think clearly and couldn't muster the motivation. So instead I ditched traffic and went to the Century City mall and spent thirty bucks on designer teas, because that's the only place you can get this one brand of tea in LA. I know: Eat, bitch. Eat.

Finally after a very confusing back-and-forth internal struggle in my mind, (I really do love the cleanse and it has served me well over the years) I busted out some Trader Joe's. And within twenty minutes, I was back on the program and reuniting with my to-do list. There really are some big changes afoot in Sensationland and I have to be here to make them. Alas.

So I am sad, but hopefully sometime this year I will be able to get on some liver detoxification. And, I still love you, Dr. S. I just need my diet of chocolate croissants and meaty pizza right now, because, unfortunately, it seems to be the key to my success.