Waaah. Waaaah.

So sad Alix left. You know when you make that first trip to Dairy Queen months (or days, depending on your willpower) after 'dieting' and you just say fuck all and order a medium cookie dough blizzard make with chocolate soft-serve and a diet coke? (you have to justify the ice cream, duh.)

There's that first bite and your mouth just doesn't know what to do with itself. Alix is that sensation of delayed satisfaction ... that favorite thing you don't even know how much you miss it until you have it again. And then you woof it down and it's gone and you know it's going to be another six months before you can justify it again? That's Alix. She's a blizzard. Apparently, a 'magical' blizzard.

On a completely seperate urban note, I have a cougar crush on Chris Brown (who didn't know that one) and I actually like Flo Rida's music. Gross.

Besitos de Besckstasy.

XOXOXOOXOXO

A really stellar compliment

I was called a "magical person" last night. What an awesome compliment. Heading back to Portland today. Not exactly as pumped on it as I thought I would be.

Layla's Journey: Accounting for my whereabouts because I'm a burnout

Ok, this is a selfish posting that's really more like what I'd jot into a journal, but don't have one. I just want to be able to remember how I spent all my time, and it just gets blurrier and blurrier, and super fun times get overshadowed or over shadow regular fun times. Run on sentence. No apologies, since no one is probs reading it anyway.

Sunday 14th: Becky's then Bayside
Monday 15th: Struggles' p.m.
Tuesday 16th: Mike DiMotta's slumber party. Beers and Little Shop of Horrors. Forest Hills looks like the inside of a snow globe. Beeyooteefull.
Wednesday 17th: Cards with assorted D-Gen. Scobee goodness with Eric.
Thursday 18th: Went into the city with parents. Shopped with mom, met with dad, visited the tree. Such a nice tree. Make it nice around the tree make it nice. Downtown to eat tasty Middle Eastern food. Then to 394. Rad fucking time. Probably the first time I was totally relaxed and all over enjoying myself. Funny commie pictures taken. Late night trip to Don Dons.
Friday 19th: Vegged out and slept all day since it was blizzarding. Necessary, to make it to UES and mini-McGill reunion. Great to see the 3711 St. Dominique crew. Good good whiskey filled times for the second night in a row. Taxi ride back to the Hobes, passed out past 4 again, and slept soundly.
Saturday 20th: Snuggled with kitties, my how they've grown. Trip to Brownstone with Janus and Beckstasy, hatched seemingly innocent plan to go to Secaucus. Dealt with pre-Xmas lunacy, attempted and failed quick getaway. Sad times for Jane's car. Quick quick quick getting ready and whisked away by the amazing Tiffanie. Visited her stellar man and sweet as pie pigdog. Then back to 394 for impromptu gathering, as freezing weather and a wise former roommate convinced us all that traveling to Manhattan was foolish. Good times had though some strange hostility permiated the scene. Visited Don Dons again, and again passed out. Rinse, lather, repeat.
Sunday 21st: Brunch with Dara at Freemans. Man I've been pissing through money, almost like I have it. Bounced around LES for a little bit and picked up some necessary NY cheapie items. Travelled back to Bayside, snatched parents car, off to see the Fagans and their newish daughter. What an awesome little kid. Too precious, too much fun. Sure to be trouble. Back to the city to see Struggles and bonus Damon. Fun times viewing Twins. Man that movie is appauling, yet totally addictive.
Monday 22nd Woke up sore, sleeping on couches sucks. Back to Bayside. Kelly Kapowski says hi. Picked up Jomo, Monday noon and Jamaica Queens funking. (Sorry it's in my contract as a douche from LI). Off to Great Neck to see Anna and Steph. Very fun. Back to Bayside, chowed with the rents. Whisked away by a kindly and wonderful young gent for the quintessential Long Island pre-Xmas date. Through careful and keen cooperation, we navigated Roosevelt Field successfully and made it out alive. Very very super nice and awesome fun evening. Really. Super awesome.
Tuesday 23rd Headed to Rahway to see my main bitch Beckstasy. Then we tackled the Jersey Gardens. Dined at Chili's, as per duh. I wish I could miniaturize Becky and carry her in my pocket at all times, because she really does make everything better. Yay.

Wow I'm all caught up. Not much time left here and I'm a lot sadder about it ending than I would have expected at all. Well, there are no guarantees my flight will even get me back on Friday. We shall see. Not really sure which way I'd prefer it.

I don't think I can handle boys

Yeah. I don't think I can. I'm either terribly cynical, or I get overly excited. Well, truth be told, I don't usually get overly excited. But when I do get excited, uccch it doesn't lat because then I can't stop thinking about it. Despite all my great attempts at NOT letting my imagination run wild, I've realized I can't really ever turn it off. I'm blaming it on being an only child. More reason to resent my mother.

I wish I could just give up and buy one of these and call it a day.



No I don't really want to give up. But I want to believe that magic can sometimes happen, and that I'm not imagining it.

Bah.

I'm a tool.

So, I didn't invite this boy home with me last night that I totally should have. Well, maybe it was a sort of good idea I didn't. I dunno. I mean, I didn't, because I thought it made me seem coy, and that I didn't come that easy, and that it was sort of punishment to him for previously acting aloof and like a general freak. But in the end, who's really being punished? I ended up going home just as alone as he did, and waking up the same way. So that's my punishment for playing games, which I really try to avoid. Games are stupid and not my bag. Don't know why I would decide to play them during a bourbon fueled evening, or really at all for that matter.

Uccchhhh. So now how do I make up for it? I mean, I don't think I necessarily OWE him an explanation, but I sort of feel maybe one is in order. Or maybe that's just my lonely lady parts talking.

I left my bad habits at the border

I did. I had several bad habits that I've been battling on and off for years, so I decided to leave them behind. I was hoping to not bring them to Portland when I moved out here, but I was also hoping to not have been lugging some of them around for as long as I had been.

Things that I left behind at the border

-Another phone charger.
I'm 2 for 2. The charger was to a phone that is virtually dead anyway. So I guess the bad habit I'm leaving is treating my phones like crap. When I get a "new" one, I'll treat it like gold.

-Coffee.
I have on-again-off-again romances with coffee every few months. I'd been really bad lately, blowing my money on venti non-fat lattes and feeling like crap afterwards. So no mo.' Back on the tea wagon, and I feel better already.

-Cigarettes.
As most of you who know me know, 2007 totally blew. For a varietal of reasons. It was also the year I started regularly smoking again, after over 3 years of not having even a drag. And I really picked it up with a vengeance. If I have a pack of cigarettes, I'll smoke a pack of cigarettes. I'm not drawing any lines in the sand though, if I'm wasted and I bum a drag, don't give me shit. But as it stands, I haven't had even a whiff of butt smoke since Sunday night. SO yeah. That's something eh? Plus I'd made a commitment to myself that if I got drafted to A o A I'd quit them. So there it is.

-Nail Biting.
Just like my coffee habit, I go through phases with biting my nails. I'll go 5 months with perfectly maintained, high-gloss, long nails perfect for scratching that itch, and the envy of many. Right now, they're little nubs that look like they did in High School. No bueno. I've got other things to be self-conscious about...and I'd rather not be self-conscious about anything if I can help it. James treated me to a mani-pedi while I was up there, so I'm gonna stick with it. Well, I'll do it myself. I'm broke as a joke.

-Predictable Heartache.
A certain Canadian man that's never made me feel very good about myself, that I've put too much stock in, and that doesn't really care to be the object of my affections. Rather than waste anymore time, energy, self-depricating thoughts, or blows to my self-esteem, I've really decided to move on. Like, for serious. Because where as before, I had been leading MYSELF along a path of "well, maybe we could make it work," and had experienced the same sentiment from friends who dubbed themselves hopeless romantics, where the hell has it gotten me? Another day older and deeper in heartbreak. So Saint Peter don't you call me, cause I can't go. I owe my soul to...well to someone that's deserving of it. Whereas I used to think I would be rewarded in the end, I've just been feeling pathetic. It's too pathetic to pine over, it's too pathetic to talk about (anymore than I've already done) and it's too pathetic to cry over. And I've worked too hard over the past year in the decisions I've made to let myself be so stagnant, let alone blatantly pathetic.

Onward and upward.

Breaking up is (not so) hard to do

Dear East Coast,

First of all, I want to say that you've been mostly great to me over the past 28 years. I don't think had I had the opportunity I would have done many things differently. For the most part, you've been nurturing. And though I'm sure this isn't coming as much of a surprise, given my departure in March, I'm afraid that this break wasn't temporary.

East Coast, I'm leaving you for something better.

I'd like to say "it's not you, it's me," but I can't take all responsibility for our inevitable parting. I think the blame really lies on both of us. Rather than mull over all your flaws and idiosyncrasies, I would rather be positive about this separation. You weren't happy with me, and I wasn't happy with you, so in the end, why designate blame? Better for us to just move on in the right direction, separately.

I'm just happier with the West Coast. Yes, she's better looking. I'm sorry, that was a really low blow, but that's not all it's about. I'm really not THAT superficial. Ok, maybe I am. Seriously, all the people* here on a whole are just more attractive, happier, more welcoming, and more fun. Maybe I'm still coasting (no pun intended) from romping in the woods all weekend in the sunshine, but I really don't think that's it alone. You're allowed to be bitter for the time being, but don't hold on to it for long---your bitterness was one of the things that drove me away.

So I bid you farewell. Good luck in all your future endeavors, and I'm sure at some point we can get together for a little visit to reflect and reminisce about good times spent. Until then, take care.

Warm and sunny regards,
Layla

*The only thing I DO miss about the East Coast are my friends. But all you betches know that right? Come visit me, see what the fuss is about.

Random quickies

Umm, when I heard the news that Clay Aiken was going to be a father, I was shocked. And then I heard it was by artificial insemination to a 50-year-old woman and I was just like "oh, right. obviously." It was much less shocking, and that says a lot.

"The Strangers" was fucking scary. Scary.

Outback Steakhouse is pretty much the shit. And while we're on food, let's talk about Dairy Queen. I had a kit kat blizzard made with chocolate ice cream and it's right up there with corn dogs. Beckstasy was in ecstasy, babaw.

I apparently have the Lyme disease again. What, with all the woods in Jersey City and all the hiking I do, it's no wonder the ticks find me. Even though I've never found them. I'm totally going to a specialist for a second opinion.

My bed was christened. And not by me. LAME.

Ashlee Simpson is married to Pete Wentz and they're having a baby. The poor kid is going to be born in a Massengill box.

"Rejection is the greatest aphrodisiac"

Per Madonna, anyway. And I agree ... we always want what we can't have, right? This may be a bit mopey, so get ready.

I had to reject a dude (pronounced DOOOOOOOOOD) tonight and it doesn't feel good. It's actually pretty shitty. We went on a "date" and I had a genuinely good time with him but it just isn't romantic. And I could probably fake the funk or convince myself to just go with it because he's got a ton of great qualities and he's not mean to me, but it's the year of MIH and that's just not acceptable. There's is no settling anymore -- not fair to him and not fair to me.

And so I'm trying to explain myself to him and being so honest and genuine (if you think there's any other way, you're wrong ... the truth, no matter how much it hurts to hear or say is always fucking better than lame-sugarcoating ... and that's coming from a girl who's had her fair share of an assortment of rejections) and saying the most cliche things: "You're a great guy," "I really want to be friends," etc. And every one of them is true but I still end up sounding like a dick. And I don't know what he thinks ... I can't read him yet.

And there it is. Perpetually single Beckstasy passes a decent one up. Makes you wonder where the actual discrepancy lies.

Whatever. Someone go get laid for me. Oh, that'd be you Layla.

*** Beckstasy ***

Ex-wives is CRAZY

For serious. Like a fucking tornado of crazy. You'd think for me to be having ex-wife drama I'd at least be boning an ex-husband. So not even the case.

I understand why men think women are fucking crazy. Seriously. I'm just so blown away. I don't even know what else to say, aside from bitch is crazy.

I don't think I said crazy enough.

BATTY. CRAZY.

Status Cars and other musings

OK, I was KNEW GM was gonna come out during Idol (pretty much the only minutes of the show I watched). I would have wanted him to do something a little more jazzy though. I would have LOVED had he done "Freedom '90," but secretly I really wanted Gayken to come out and duet on "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me." I'll never forget when Gayken did it during his tenure on Idol. It totally gave me the chills. Wow, is my stock plummeting or what?

I miss pedicures. I miss my feet not looking a hot mess. I mean, they're absurd enough as it is, with all my toes being pretty much the same length. They look like bears' paws. For serious.

So I got to thinking about status/sports cars a few days ago. I mean clearly, that stuff just ain't my bag. But what really got me thinking was about how much of a commitment owning one of those cars must be. Not in terms of maintaining the car itself, but about maintaining your image. I don't know one new model from the next, but those who keep up with this sort of thing sure as shit do. I mean, you have to have the newest, fastest, shiniest, most banging model right?

Like, I'll see an old corvette (not vintage old, just like 80s old) and think about the schlub driving it. He probably got so much pussy back in the day, when he had all his hair, an eight-ball to spare, his brand new shiney red corvette, and new all the words to "Wall Street" by heart. Greed was good. But really, who can be bothered?

Random thoughts for 12:40 a.m.

Harrison Ford is a funny DOOD.

Leona Lewis has an awesome voice.

I need a manicure with a quickness.

They always come back. Honestly, they do. You can only hope that by the time they come to their senses you've moved on.

I'm pumped for "Idol" to end and "So You Think You Can Dance To Start." Seriously.

Cover letters kill my soul.

"The Motown Song" by Rod Stewart and The Temptations is the J-A-M, jayum. Listen to it.

And that's the best I can do right now. I have a career day tomorrow at a middle school (isn't that a bit early?) so I need to get my beauty rest for the kiddies.

*** Beckstasy ***

Act II: Layla gets her groove back

What does a gay horse eat?

Heeeeeeeeeyyyyy!

So yeah, I know it's been a really long time since I've updated anything, and for that I truly suck. It's funny though, because Beckstasy was telling me about going back and reading old posts and realizing our brilliance and humor. When I go back and read mine I just sort of cringe! HA! Needless to say a lot has changed or gone on or whatevs since I last posted. I was just too busy or depressed to keep a running commentary going.

So yeah, I've since taken on, and then quit a second waitressing job. I just wasn't into it, and I was working constantly. It totally blew. I was very blue and cranky and meepy. Still not homesick, but intensely people sick. I couldn't make any plans or see any of the new people I'm trying to develop relationships with. So I says to myself, I says:

"This is not why you moved to Portland."

I re-crunched the numbers, and after remembering that I actually get paychecks from my wages, I could make it work. So I effin quit that other waitress job at the fish restaurant, and felt tons better. Then a really amazing opportunity dropped into my lap to fill in for a gal at a PR firm while she's on maternity leave. Now, THAT'S why I moved to Portland, to expose myself to new opportunities. I'm so thrilled that my buddy T'Beatcha had the good faith in me to suggest me for an interview. One turned to three, one of which last three hours alone. I'd never felt so confident about an interview though, and they responded in kind...so that's a huge boost for me and I couldn't be more excited to get it under way.

That means this week is my last week on the schedule at Touche. We came up with the joke that Touche years are like dog years. I can't believe I've only been there a month. It's not necessarily a complaint, because I'm not excited to be done there, I'm excited to just be done with waitressing. I'm really over it. The people have been really good to me, and I am flattered to have been welcomed into the cliquish little family they have. It'll be fun when I randomly pick up shifts.

So yeah, that's the past month or so for you. It feels like a lot longer. The weather has been unfuckingbelievable for the past few days, not a cloud in the sky. I already have a tan. For serious. I really am so affected by the weather, and I'm starting to worry about what winter is like here, but eff it. I'll burn that bridge when I come to it.

Annnnd, you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout I'm telling you why, Maura Mone is coming to town. I'm super excited about that shit meng! It's gonna be a funny bitch party when we go camping with her girls from Leeds.

I'm starting to really have a lot if fun. I've been skating more than ever, doing the 12 mile outdoor loop a few times. I feel great afterwards. Derbs is great of course, though we lost to GnR last night. I'm not to bent out about it, despite the flaws, I think it was a great game, and I really like all the broads I skated against. They're funtime peeps. We had a derby BBQ yesterday and it was a real blast also. Lots of food and chillaxing.

So I start my new job on Wednesday. Wish me e-luck. I don't really feel like proof reading this. I just can't be bothered. I hope it isn't boring. It might be, I don't want to disappoint the readership (all 7 of you good folks). Hope your taking your passion and making it happen too.

PS, I fucking miss me some Beckstasy. Now the pressure is on her to post something. Oh, and if you people are reading this, feel free to comment for us.

Adventures in food poisoning

I'm disgusting and warning anyone reading this that it may get gross. We'll see how I feel.

So yesterday, Kathryn and I went to Bazookas Sports Bar in Secaucus for lunch. I drowned my fries and burger in ketchup per my normal routine but I was only able to finish half, which for me is pretty unusual. But whatever, 20 pounds by July, right?

Anyway, I come home and get a call from my friend Anna who wants to meet for dinner and a movie in NYC. Cool, I tell her I'll be there around 9. As I'm getting ready, I start to feel kind of queasy but figure it'll pass. Mind you, I hadn't eaten anything in 5 hours and I hadn't been 'sick.' So it was right about the Hoboken stop on the PATH train that my stomach took a hard-core turn for the worse. Anna met me a Christopher Street and we started walking and the gross feeling began to pass so I figured I'd make it. We popped in to a little Thai place and I ordered food with absolutely no intention of eating it.

After my water came, I excused myself and headed to the ONLY female stall in the place. And I kind of let loose. It's a little awkward vom'ing in a public restroom and not being intoxicated. Especially when the sink is on the outside and it's not very convenient for rinsing your disgusting mouth. Oh, that, and you never actually get the fun of being drunk. But I digress ...

Two trips to the bathroom later and a full serving of chicken pad Thai wrapped to go, Anna and I head out to the Angelika. At this point I feel like I've emptied my stomach and everything should be good. Sure, at one point I felt like I was going to pass out after I had expectorated gallons of 'stuff' from my body, but it passed quickly and I really was feeling much better.

So we're headed down Bleecker, passing NYU, when super-disgusting queasy feeling creeps up on me and I tell Anna I have to go around the corner.

"Are you going to vomit?" she asks in her posh British accent.

"Totally," I say as I kneel down and lose it right there in NYU's courtyard at 10 p.m. on Saturday night. And poor Anna (she must have been so embarrassed) insists I get in a cab and go home.

So we hail one and he wants to charge me $42 for the fare and $8 for the toll. WTF?!?!?!? "Actually, can you just take me to the Christopher Street PATH station?"

(Two-minute time elapse) "Actually, can you go ahead and take me to Jersey? Fuck it."

So I give the man my right arm and run upstairs to the bathroom where I stay for a good 25 minutes, constantly toiling over whether I should be hunching over the toilet or sitting on it. Two ruined pair of panties later and I realize I should've just holed up in the shower. Duh.

But on the bright side, I lost five pounds in a single evening and that's 25 percent of the goal.

I really hope this story brings us all closer together.

*** Becks ***

Kudos for Zimmipants

Alix makes people look in the mirror and like what they see, regardless of our own perceptions. And that makes her awesome. Duh.

*** Becks ***

Just a squirrel trying to get a nut ...

In reponse to Layla's posting on John Mayer:

I just saw the promo photo for the reunited New Kids On The Block and I hate myself for saying it but I would have sex every one of them. Oh yeah, even monkey-faced Danny. They're wearing well-tailored suits and I'm two years, eight months and 12 days not in the hole (and yes, I remember the exact date ... it was that lame). I'd be embarassed, but I'm way too sexually frustrated to let any other type of emotion seep in. Except for crazy -- that's always welcomed.

Speaking of crazy, good luck to the next DOOD who does get to lay me. Once he gets past my constant recitation of "I don't put out," he then has my Wonderbra speech to look forward to, as well as my "I need a lot of reassurance" episodes. And an ice pick ... he'll definitely need an ice pick, and probably a three-day weekend. But after all that, he'll be one of the luckiest guys ever. And I can attest to this because one way or another, they always come back.

Poor love of my life. He has no idea.

Besitos, kids. And appreciate your sex life because you never know when you're going to get laid again.

*** Beckstasy ***

Someone marry me

Preferrably with less than 8 letters in their last name. I can't handle having a 10 letter last name anymore. It's too hard to type fast when I'm buzzy. I'm over it.

Beckstasy. you better step up to the plate with this blogging action.

xoxo
LS

WTF

Perez Hilton actually got to smooch on John Mayer? Where the fuck is the justice in the world?

And I'm not feeling guilty about lusting after that self-proclaimed douche anymore. He's a tall drink of water, with questionable taste in women. The consistent theme is this: Huge Jugs. Well I got 'em Johnny Boy, and my body's a motherfucking wonderland.

One year and four days in the hole. Or rather, not in the hole.


grrrrrr.....

Scissor Sisters, always a good omen.

HIYEE!

So I just came from "working" at Touche. I think it's awesome that I'll be working at a place that's one letter off from douche.

Anyhoo, let me say that place is effin great. Amazing menu, super staff, and regular clientele. I guess The Pearl District is similar in nature to the Meatpacking District? I mean, supposedly it's considered the swanky, trendy, dare I say pretentious area of town. But clearly the Portland notion of pretension is quite different than what it's like back East. Regardless, if it all adds up to me making serious bank, then I'm not gonna argue.

So apparently they really like me there. I can't say that I blame them, I think I'm built to serve. I mean, I love food. I love eating it, I love looking at it, I love thinking about it, and I like talking about it. I'm going back in on Saturday night, and I've filled out a W4 already, but until I hear the words "You're hired, here are your shifts..." I'm not celebrating yet. As I was leaving after eating my tasty dinner and sipping on some yummy Spanish wines, "Take Your Mama" came on the Ipod that was shuffling. I have to assume that's a good sign.

I love it out here. I just can't believe how smooth a transition I seem to have made. SPEAKING of transitions...I hope people caught "The Pregnant Man" aka Thomas Beattie on Oprah today. Did you know he lived in Oregon? I wonder if Bend is gonna become a new destination for previously oppressed trannies.

xoxo
Layla

No seriously

http://www.dlisted.com/node/24969

That shit about his abuelita is too fucking much. If you don't think it's hilarious, then why are we friends?

~Layla

Guilty pleasure

Ok, maybe I shouldn't feel guilty about it. My Ipod's on shuffle. It's got MC Paul Barman on right now, and I'm stoned reading Dlisted.com. And I'm laughing maniacally. That shit is super funny though, the whole lot of it. Whatevs. I live in Portland. I needn't make excuses.

xoxo
Layla

Mad ups to Eric

I'm urban.

I just read on PerezHilton.com that Rick Astley was on Seacrest's morning show talking about the Rickrolling phenomenon.

Are you kidding? Eric broke that shit years ago.

Have you ever met a 25-year-old cougar?

Can we please talk about "American Idol" last night? First, Dolly Parton is probably the best human being to ever walk on the planet. She has the kindest spirit and the biggest rack of anyone on the Earth. And that's awesome. As for the performances ... meh.

I'd also like to go ahead and put it out here that I have a serious cougar-crush on Jason Castro. I'm not even into skinny boys with dreads but I'm enamored with him. He kinda looks like a girl ... maybe I should do some experimenting? And he sings with his entire face and looks all crazy and I love it. Love it.

I also want to have babies with David Cook, especially now that he's growing something around his skeevy soul patch (Note to Caucasian Boys: Say "no" to soul patches. Thanks.) I'd hit it.

In other awesome news, one of my interns interviewed a martial arts guy last week. He called today asking for us to do a follow-up story on how this Saturday he'll attempt to break "5,000 pounds of brick and concreek." That's right kids, conCREEK.

Muchos besitos!

Inaugural Blog!

I'm popping Ooooogurrrl's cherry! Finally, I'm getting some sort of action in the New Year. Beckstasy and I have been threatening for a while to do some sort of collaborative writing effort. Now that I live on the other side of the country, we figure this is the perfect time to stop being lazy. Man we suck sometimes.

This is an opportunity for us to stay in touch (aiming for daily) as well as a way for you sick internet fucks to keep up on our musings. I mean let's not kid ourselves here, we're pretty hilarious, and you know you miss hanging out with us.

So that's all I have to say for right now. I should probably go start my day. It's not raining or hailing yet. In fact there isn't a cloud in the sky. Take this opportunity to flag the page, make it a favorite, and start stalking. You know you want to.

xoxo
Layla