Bigger Dummies Than Me

I didn't fall in love this year. I didn't have a boyfriend or make a penny more than I made last year or get a new, better job and move into a bigger apartment. My bank account was overdrawn more times than I'd like to admit, and I haven't yet fully eliminated hangovers from my life. I didn't get better at playing drums, in fact, I sold my kit and stopped taking lessons. I flew in an airplane for a total of 10 hours, spaced between two weekend trips, and never left the country. I read a bunch of great books, saw very few movies but enjoyed the ones I did see. I joined a gym, got in shape, stopped working out and gained a bit of excess muffin top, and started working out again.

I went on a handful of dates, shared a heart fluttering kiss with a guy I had met that night outside of my favorite bar, got into a screaming fight with the one guy I dated with any seriousness, and can't think of a moment when I was truly lonely, even though the majority of this year was spent single. I was turned down by two guys I asked out, went on two lovely dates with the above mentioned favorite-bar-kiss fellow where we ate until we almost burst, and expect to see more of him in the coming year...but back to 2009.

I spent my time with wonderful people, being my silly self, and felt truly loved by those I'm luckily enough to count among my close friends. I went to therapy and got past a lot of my childhood resentment and feel like I'm closer to my sister than we've ever been, even if that means only talking once a week or so. I signed up to be a bone marrow donor, gave blood, and donated money to a little girl who I wish could have been saved.

I helped my big brother's very pregnant long-time girlfriend with her hair and makeup as she was getting ready to marry my brother. I told him after the wedding that the way he treats his new wife, and the wonderful man he is when he's around her is part of the reason I left my five year relationship...that I didn't want to settle for anything other than what I saw him give to the woman he loves. He made me cry when, in a moment of uncharacteristic seriousness, he told me I deserve just that.


I was in the New York Times with my very best friend, a girl I can't imagine having gotten through this year without. A silly idea we had over drinks and popcorn is turning into something that might make the rest of my life, or at least the next couple years, something I could have never imagined. The possibilities are endless, and I'm looking forward to my future with excitement and awe, instead of the nervousness and worry which used to consume the daydreams of my future.

This year was the best year of my life. I'm almost 30 and pretty much completely confident with myself, and the little bit of self consciousness helps me to be humble and thankful for all the wonderful things in my life. I feel like I have something to offer the world, don't feel like I'm owed anything by anyone, but know that bigger dummies than me have carved their own happy little niche in the world, so why the hell not me, too??? I'm sorry to be leaving 2009 behind. It will always have a special place in my heart, and I can imagine looking back and seeing how this year was the turning point in my life. But really, I'm looking forward to showing 2010 who's boss [hint: I am].

xo,

Georgia

Holiday Stories - A Lack Thereof

I can't stop reading the Holiday Horror Stories in the comments of this Gawker post. They're making me crack the eff up with thier terror-filled awfulness, but also making me oh-so happy with my current status as Jewish Girl Whose Entire Family Lives Within An Hours Drive. Honestly, I don't know how you guys deal with this time of year, all you Christmas-celebrating folk. I really, honestly feel so much sympathy for you, but am also so confused as to why you subject yourselves to the madness!

One of my favorite topics of conversation amongst those who aren't Jewish, is their family's holiday traditions. I'm so fascinated by them, seeing as how mine is so nontraditional - consisting of cramming dozens of just out of the oven latkes into my facehole, followed by a corned beef on rye which has been catered into our home, all the while consuming vast amounts of wine with my huge, awesome family. Gifts are given to the children only, and the twenty or so minutes of unwrapping are pandemonium of the greatest kind.

I never have to travel anywhere, and I get to spend Christmas weekend all alone in my lovely Los Angeles, which is happily void of crowds and tourists. This year I plan on making chocolate dipped pretzels for a Christmas Eve get-together at a friend's, hiking through Griffith Park, and sipping Hot Toddies (even though it's like 75 and sunny here in Southern California) while reading my awesome book about the Nuremberg trials. Not exactly a typical Christmas, but there will be no horror stories to be told outside of my book, and that's just how I like it.

Now appease my curiosity and tell me about your Holiday traditions and horror stories! The more horrific the better, as I am nothing if not morbidly curious, but sweet stories welcome, too.

My dad and I last Christmas Day, after eating at a Jewish deli.

Style, Betch

Remember when I went to New York last week and I couldn't talk about why I was going/what I was doing there?


Well I'm free to talk about it now.

Yep, that's me mid-guffaw, clutching a McNuggetini on the cover of the New York Times Style section. THE COVER. WTF, life??!

Read the lovely article here, and if you feel like being generous and racking up some good karma, head over to the article and email it using the button at the bottom of the piece. Email it to a dozen friends or so (or whomever...email it to me, to yourself, your friends, family, congressman, ex flames) so we have a shot at the coveted "Most Emailed" page.

And if you're new to this blog via the article, welcome! I curse a lot and talk about being single and my childhood and other fascinating things! Familiarize yourself via my "Best Of" links in my sidebar, won't you? You can also watch mine and Alie's epic videos here, and learn more about us here. Hope you stick around. It's cozy around here and always smells like fresh baked cookies.

For those of you who have been reading my blog for some time, don't think I'm not 100% aware that your support and lovely presence has contributed greatly to the awesomeness that is my life lately. I'm a lucky blogger. I heart my readers! I owe you guys a boob shot, at least!

This Heart's On Fire

"My dad is the sweetest, most paranoid person I know," I wrote on my Facebook wall last night after opening the carefully wrapped gift he had given me for Hanukkah. We had just gone out to dinner at a little old school Italian joint in North Hollywood, a place that is supposedly famous for their meatballs and that, according to my father, my deceased grandfather (George - my namesake) used to deliver meat to back when he ran a butcher shop on Fairfax. The meatballs were indeed wonderful, and while the glass of wine we both ordered left something to be desired, the conversation and garlic bread made up for that.

Presents have never been that big of a deal in my family, and I follow that tradition by regularly forgetting to prepare for any birthdays or holidays that require such. Likewise, I'm always taken aback when someone gifts me with a thoughtful, or even meaningless present. It isn't necessary to me, you see. Good company and a shared drink are all I need to celebrate. Don't get me wrong, I always do my best to show my friends and family I care when those days that necessitate a gift role around, but it takes effort and more than a little stressful, last minute shopping on my part.

When I was a kid, due to monetary limits, we would get a dollar a night for each night of Hanukkah, with usually the last night reserved for a thoughtful trinket. I never had a problem with that. I do remember feeling a bit embarrassed when friends would brag about what they got for Christmas, but looking back I wouldn't change a damn thing. Although my childhood was a bitch at times, I love the person I've become, and I can't pretend that the financial hardships we faced and the lack of greed it projected on me didn't contribute to the awesomeness that is me (I kid, I kid...kinda). It just means that those trinkets we were given meant so much more. I still remember the Fivel plush doll of '86 and the Rocky Horror Picture Show calendar of '93 fondly.

At our family Hanukkah party on Saturday night, my mother presented me with a beautiful mezuzah, resting in a lovely silver box, with a scroll inside that "cost more than the actual mezuzah," according to her. It was a lovely and practical gift, as I've been meaning to get just such a thing to adorn the doorway of my apartment.

Practical gifts are a favorite of mine. For her birthday I gifted Alie, my best friend, with a nice set of kitchen knives and cozy pajamas and slippers - all things she was lacking. For Hanukkah this year I gave my sister a electric blue vintage clutch purse because last time we went shopping, she commented that she wanted one, but wasn't able to find a good one. A magazine subscription is one of my favorite go-to gifts when I'm short on ideas and time.

Anyway, after dinner last night, I headed home with the still-wrapped present that my dad handed me before I dropped him off. I sat on my couch with a curious kitty on either side of me as I peeled back the wrapping paper which I could picture him carefully using to dress the gift he was giving to his youngest daughter (me) - a girl who was so happy to have such a wonderful father, a father who never hung up the phone without telling her how proud he was of her and whose lived his life by the motto that if his grown children still wanted to spend time with him (we do), that meant he was successful, despite any struggles with money and lackluster career.

I laughed out loud when I saw what he had given me, and immediately texted him "thank you, I love it!".

It's a disposable fire extinguisher. It's just what I wanted.

My dad and my brother - Israel, 1977

Alone In New York

By noon on Sunday we were finished with our meetings. We had been up painfully early to meet with two lovely women at a diner that had supposedly been a go-to spot for the ladies in Sex in the City, and later we conspired over coffee down the street with a sweet girl who was excited about our future prospects and her potential contribution to them.

Alie wanted to hit the Natural History Museum, and I would have too, had we had more time to spend in New York. Instead we had a mere six hours or so before our flight back to LA. I knew that I needed some time to wander alone, as that's something I've always loved to do in an unfamiliar city, and the trip wouldn't have felt complete without it. So we hugged goodbye, with plans to meet later in the afternoon, and each started down the street in opposite directions.

I had forgotten to bring along my cell phone that morning, and the sensation of being unattached made me a little giddy. The knowledge that I had no idea where I was, or where I was heading as I made my way down the stairs to the subway platform was even more of a thrill. I'm lucky enough that I spent three years in San Francisco with the subway being my main mode of transportation, so the intricate maps and payment systems of big city public transportation don't intimidate me as much as they should.

I hopped on a train headed toward Brooklyn, and jumped off a few exits later, intent on wandering around until I found a cute pub where I could sit with a beer, watch people, and finish the wonderful book I had brought for the trip. I didn't know where I was, as I mentioned before, and as I walked climbed the steps leading to the street above the subway, my heart swelled up like it hadn't done in years. I love, love, love being by myself in an unfamiliar city.

Being left to my own devices, not knowing what lies in store for me, walking down streets that are warn with a history that I'll never learn, and passing people that I'm free to make up stories about because I'll never meet them...well it's one of my most favorite possessions, if you could call it that. It's all mine. Like a good book, I could get lost in it forever and be perfectly content.

I clicked along the sidewalk in my high-heeled black boots that were tucked into my tight jeans. It was freezing cold but after a few blocks I warmed up enough to shed my scarf, and a few blocks later my favorite coat as well. People watched me pass and I wondered what stories they were making up about me. I wondered if they thought I looked happy.

Soon I recognized the name of a restaurant which I had noticed the night before while out looking for dinner. Paprika. I looked across the street and recognized the facade of the hot dog place, and then the little Australian market, and suddenly I realized that I knew where I was. You should know that I'm a very independent person, being self sufficient makes me proud. Being able to figure out an unfamiliar subway system and then to find my way back home after being let out in the middle of god-knows-where in the freezing cold is better than any cozy cab ride or perfectly detailed map.

I walked by a bar that had good music and a youngish crowd spilling out onto the sidewalk, and a quiet front patio with an open seat. I bought a pint of local IPA and took a seat, my feet starting to ache from all the walking. Soon I was engrossed in my book, which I finished along with the beer sometime later.

While on my way back to the apartment, I ran into the fellow we were staying with along with a friendly German acquaintance of his, and we all spent the rest of the day wandering the sunny, chilly sidewalks of the lower east side neighborhood he lived in, laughing uproariously and snapping pictures as we walked.

I haven't said something like this in a long time, so please understand that I'm not exaggerating, nor do I say something like this lightheartedly: that Sunday spent in New York Cit, was one of the best days of my life. It was perfect in its simplicity, and I wouldn't have changed a thing. I'm so glad it's mine.

New York, I Love You...and your pork buns.

Well THAT was one of the best weekends of my life. Phew...honestly, I can't even begin to tell you how perfect the last few days have been. I guess I should come clean and tell you the original purpose of our weekend trip to New York, instead of being so vague...but unfortiately you'll just have to sit tight. I promise to come clean when I get the all-clear.

It was a whirlwind weekend of meetings, makeup, mucus (on Alie's part) and mayhem that's best summed up with photos and notes, as most good things are.

These things happened:

We weren't scheduled to fly out until Friday morning, but someone who wanted to meet with us would be out of town from Friday night on. So Thursday night we begged and pleaded our way onto a red-eye flight. It wasn't the most graceful thing that happened during our trip, but it was successful, so there's that.

Happily waiting for our flight.

I fell down a flight of stairs, stone cold sober both times, and have a huge bruise on my ass and forearm to prove it. Yes, I'm a klutzy person, but in my defense the stairs were worn by decades of use, and my favorite black flats that I insist on wearing to death have ZERO tread. Ass, meet marble.

We attended a Tumblr Meet-Up with many lovely New York Tumblrs in attendance, not a few of whom were consuming our infamous McNuggetini's which the bar owner so graciously allowed to be served for the low price of $4 each. It was so fun to meet and chat with all these new people, all the while having a McNugget-garnished drink clutched in our hands. Photos to come.

Stayed with a sweet (and more than a little attractive) friend of Alie's who was the most gracious and accommodating host one could ask for (above, he's serenading me with the most beautiful version of Georgia On My Mind). The first day we arrived, after a long nap in his bed and a quick shower, he showed us around the store he works at.

It's an amazing place with wall-to-wall vintage decorative pieces that blew my fucking mind. He let us try on jewelry that is worth more than my car, which doesn't really say much actually, as I drive a ten year old Jeep...but you get the idea.

We happened upon this amazing street performance in the middle of what was already one of the most wonderful Sunday's of my life. Photos by our host, Cole. Read about it here.

Obligatory tourist photo with a beautiful mural.

Posing under my brother's name.



We escaped the snow by ducking into a little deli and ordering coffee and donuts, which I hear helps protect one from nasty weather. It worked.

We had the most amazing time. Only two words can describe how awesome our trip was:

Thanks to all your wonderful recommendations for places to go and things to eat in New York. We sadly didn't have time to pwn as much food as we would have liked, but what we did eat was beyond spectacular (namely that freaking rice pudding at Rice to Riches and breakfast at Cafeteria). This was the first time I ever considered New York to be the type of place I'd want to move to, and it had a lot to do with all the amazing hospitality and graciousness of the people I met while I was there...and also the architecture. God I love the architecture.

Alie & Georgia Present: The Bloody Bacon & Cheese

Before I post a long entry all about our (amazing, wonderful, life-changing) weekend in New York, I wanted to share mine and Alie's newest libation creation with you. Directed and edited by the talented Mr. Peter Atencio, we think this is the best video so far. Very Twin Peaks, no? We hope you enjoy it! There's plenty more where this one came from.



And here's the McNuggetini video, also directed and edited by Mr. Atencio, in case you missed it the first time around.

And be sure to check out our You Tube page for more videos, and our new and exciting website for info.

Cheers!

New York & Lola

I'll be in New York this weekend with my best friend, Miss Alie Ward. I wish I could tell you the reason we're going, and all the amazing and potentially life-changing things we'll be doing while there, but I'm afraid to jinx it. I'll just say, for the time-being, that this trip was made possible by the McNuggetini, which is pretty mind blowing. Who'd have thunk that a meat-garnished drink, invented over White Russians and popcorn at a dive bar, would lead to such potentially great heights??? Not I.

Friday night there will be a Tumblr Meet-Up party thrown in our honor, at which the aforementioned life-changing McNuggetini being served. If you'll be in New York and want the party info, I'd be happy to provide you with it after you prove your sanity and pinky swear that you're not a anti-blogger sociopath. Promise? Swear?? Okay, email me for the party info here: georgiaisyourfriend@gmail.com

I've only been to New York twice before, and both those times with romantic traveling companions. I'm excited to go this time with my partner in crime and hopefully have a fabulously nefarious time. Also a gluttonous time. I'm determined to consume as much New York coffee, as many bagels and slices of pizza, and as much strangely flavored rice pudding as possible. What's your favorite thing to eat in New York? I need suggestions so that I can achieve my goal of weighing at least five extra pounds by the time I step onto the returning flight Sunday night.

...........................

This week has been crazy due to all the trip planning, so I haven't had a chance to update regarding the new kitty. Things didn't go as planned when I met to meet my potential superfluous-toed kitty. She just didn't give me that "that's MY cat!" feeling for some reason. But as I was leaving, sadly empty handed, I was told there was a Siamese mix kitten available if I'd like to meet her. Ummm, yes please!

Within minutes she was sitting on my lap, melting into my arms as I gave her my patented expert cat ear rub. "She's yours," my mom, who was perched on a chair watching, said with a glint in her eye. An hour later she was home with me.

Lola

So far Elvis likes her, and although they don't snuggle yet as I had hoped they would, they play together like they're old friends. He avoids me just a little, and doesn't sleep with me anymore which breaks my heart just a tad. He'll get over it, right?? Lola, on the other hand, is possibly the sweetest kitten (six months old) that I've ever met. I swear she just melts into your arms the moment you pick her up. She's playful but not destructive, silly and cute, with the most darling little mew you've ever heard.

Have a lovely weekend, friends...New York updates to follow!

xo