i spoke too soon.

Apparently i'm not out of the woods with this sick boob thing.

I had surgery again on Friday and it was a much more brutal experience than the one in October. I'll resume posting next week. And maybe I'll even share the gory details if you all promise not to be squeamish about it.

Let me know if you want any Vicodin. I'm carrying enough painkillers to warrant a spot on the next Celebrity Rehab.

Churched & Sated

Now that I'm moving out, I guess it's okay to discuss the residence frankly. Like share the exact address.

In case you'd like to stalk me the one afternoon I'm going to collect my belongings at some point during this month: I've been living in The Biscuit Lofts in downtown LA since last spring. A former Nabisco factory turned architectural wonder and luxury loft building. I am also lucky enough to have had a friend that wanted to split a unit. (Let's be reasonable here. Clover's not pulling solo Biscuit cash these days.)

So for those of you not familiar with the eastern section of downtown LA, the neighborhood can be summed up as one block of Chelsea and twenty blocks of Skid Row. Just how I like it. And one of the factors contributing to the Chelsea-ish qualities is a trendy bistro of a place called Church & State.

And just how hot is this joint? WELL, I will have you know, it was name dropped recently on the new Melrose Place. (You know. The guy who was Ella's boss at the PR agency before Amanda Woodward came back and fired him was trying to impress someone by saying he had "standing reservations at Church & State.") Or something like that. I wasn't paying that close attention. Okay I was.

(ASIDE: Melrose Place is only one in a long list of many shameful television programs I consume weekly. Yesterday morning Boyfriend asked me what shows he should set a season pass for from the living room and yelling them out from the kitchen was difficult even for me, and I have a say-it-loud-say-it-proud policy with my low brow television viewing. Q: Do you know how cool it sounds to yell "The Bachelor" urgently from across a house? A: As cool as being a contestant on The Bachelor.)

SO. Anycomfortablewithmyself, I have been a longtime enemy of this Church & State establishment.

Yes, I appreciate that its presence makes the otherwise no man's land that is my corner of DTLA a destination. And I like that it gives extra cache to the building. My beef with C&S stemmed entirely from the close quarters we shared. And when I mean close, I mean it's like this, y'all:




Shit gets loud.

My only understanding of Church & State was that its employees liked to listen to Kings of Leon and Journey. Loudly and often. And exclusively. While there was the audible din of a dinner crowd on a Friday night, the real headache began after the doors closed and before they opened, when it appeared the only songs its staff enjoyed hearing were "Sex on Fire" and "Don't Stop Believin'". There were times when I thought the bands were giving in-house performances and hoped for an earthquake so I could come crashing down on them. When this is occurring at 8 am after working at a bar until 2 am the night before, you easily become homicidal. Ear plugs do not cancel out the throbbing bass that will pulse through your loft floors. Goodbye rest and youth and beauty.

But I had heard the food was awesome there. And while a few nights over the past year I had gone in for a drink at the bar, that was not enough to win me over nor justify its existence. Plus I walked by it everyday. It wasn't THAT exciting. Usually I would glare at the patrons in my sweats while carrying groceries and feel completely desensitized to its awesomeness.

But this week, as my tenure at the Biscuit comes to a close, I decided it was high time Boyfriend and I had a date night there. As excited as I am to be back in Silverlake, I'm already having downtown nostalgia. I got misty as we sat at our table, and while checking my email on my iPhone, saw my wireless network pop up. Aw, Bisky. It's been so real.

And Church & State is absolutely as good as the hype. We ate like Royalty. (Like how Marie Antoinette got killed for eating this awesome. Also under this Royalty eating structure, vegetables are for the cake-eating plebes.) Eat this: the steak tartare, the foie gras served in a magical little French-y mason jar, the moules frites and the frisée salad with an (also magical!) soft poached egg and warm bacon vinaigrette.

So go go go, people. I'm totally over the time they ruined my sleep for a year.

I'd rather be lucky than good.

Back in November I got this Facebook wall post from one of my favorite bloggers (and IRL friend!) Bex.

G! What on earth has happened to your life since we saw each other last? You went to court, had surgery, are now In a Relationship and you LOST YOUR iPHONE?


Yes, that's what's been goin' on. And the answers to all those questions are, respectively: charges dropped, breast, yes, and I got a new one. Each one of those are worthy of several posts, but I've exhausted the topics by repeating them so much verbally. I just can't elaborate any more right now. I do have much to say about all of the above, however, ranging from my disillusionment with the health care system and gratitude for my parent's financial support for said breast surgery, to my run in with the law and having my first attorney. I guess the Serious Relationship thing is kind of a big deal, too.

Basically things are kind of different. Including that I am now thirty. Yes. THIRTY. I probably wouldn't mention this fact had the past three months of being thirty not been a glorious departure from the shit storm that was The Twenties. I am not unconvinced I didn't walk around with a glittery marquis sign above me for the entirety of the decade (invisible only to me) that screamed "Fuck this bitch."

Although there has been some holdovers. I'm still excelling in my wheelhouse of "car problems" and "evictions".

Exhibit A: Right before the holidays some kind jackoff hit my parked car and knocked off the bumper. I think about this person at least once a day and wish them evil things. Like a knocked off side mirror and a flat tire in rush hour traffic on the 405. (Also instead of using my blog as a platform for iPhone solicitation, as was last year's urgent request, this year I'm asking for a Prius. Dream big and impractically, I've always said.)

Exhibit B: Also right before the holidays, the place I've been living in in scenic downtown LA got foreclosed on, and I was told that the bank wants us out, like, ASAP. (Soooo... where was that rent money going if not the mortgage?) But whatever, who wants to live in a nice building with a pool and famous people and a doorman anyway. Not me.

But now that I'm thirty, things are getting progressively better. Including The boyfriend and me moving in together, which is like winning a Prius and a brand new iPhone all at once. Which leads us to my first point of order in the new year (and upcoming post): Cohabitation. Gentle Interfriends, I am about to embark upon the glorious enterprise otherwise known as "living in sin". And I have much to learn about this endeavor. Although. I've been living in sin long before Boyfriend came along, so it already feels pretty homey.

happy new year.

i'm drafting. genuinely drafting. internet sensationing is a resolution i'm keeping this year.