Heppy Renewed Year

As we prepare to welcome a brand new year, we tend to reflect on the year we had and look forward to the year to come. There are those who celebrate this time to start anew: "Out with the old, in with the new."

I'm devoting the last day of this year to do just that...of sorts. I am in the process of converting old t-shirts into yarn.

I had the idea to make some t-shirt yarn for some time, but I haven't really made the effort to try until now.

After a helpful tip of a Goodwill that sells clothing by the pound in Long Beach, I figured getting a big bunch of test shirts and make a lot of yarn, so I grabbed my roommate and called up a local friend and went on a little field trip and found the "Last Chance" warehouse behind a proper Goodwill store.

After a lot of digging through piles and piles of sometimes very smelly clothes, I managed to get a sizable pile with which to work, and for $1.99 a pound, I (think I) got a pretty good deal.

After a good washing, I tried a few methods to cut the yarn, and found the spiral cut method works the best for me, particularly in getting most out of the shirt.



So now I have this little pile that I can power through and make some yarn.


We'll see if I can salvage these last chance finds and make good with their new purpose...once I figure out what to make with all that I've got. One of my resolutions is to try to make more handmade things, and another to be a little greener; take up more sustainable practices. Doing this kills two birds with one stone, so we'll see how this goes!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Resolutions Better than Yours

How many of you commit to resolutions every year? I never have and never will—except this once. My life’s been uneventful these last twenty years, so to spice things up I decided to include only heroic feats in my one and only new year’s resolutions list.

• Tame horse to rescue damsel in distress and flee by jumping over canyon.


• Enter burning building, exit with soot-faced baby.


• Utilize martial arts to apprehend head of criminal organization.


• Protect honor of shy woman by smashing a bottle of vodka and holding shard to offender’s neck.


• Infiltrate compound to thwart weapons smuggling by using weapons in question to dispatch enemies.


• Remove shoes, jump into pool, emerge with coughing baby.


• Ram tank into helicopter.


• Sacrifice self to help friends escape dungeon by using body to hold open stone slab only to reappear later to surprise sullen friends.


• Stalk, capture renegade circus elephant. Gut, extract living human baby.

Taco Holder

I am a lightweight when it comes to drinking. One watered down mai tai and I'll be dialing the big white telephone all night. A second drink renders me so drunk that I no longer care if I am sickeningly dizzy. Well, what the heck? It's the holidays! Sure, I'll have another... After perusing a long list of fancy cocktails I ordered the prettiest one, because well, I am a sucker for cute. "I'll have the Rainbow!," I happily proclaimed. "Hmmm, really?" The waiter warned. "Yes!," I uncharacteristically raised my voice, "I want to taste the Rainbow! Ha Ha!". The waiter warned me again, my friends cautioned me, I contemplated offers of other fruity drinks (the appletini, the lycheetini...), but I still had my heart set on those colorful, layered swirls.

I tasted that rainbow. And then I tasted it again on the way out. Since I am a skilled vomiter, I was fully equipped with a barf bag. I gracefully (yeah, right) fell outside for some cool air and privacy while a friend held my hair back. Yes, I carry barf bags on my person at all times. It's what an expert does. It's not like I have many accomplishments to be proud of, so I like to point out all my various profeciencies and tout them as remarkable achievements. I have a wall map littered with tacks, pin pointing all the various places I've vomited. Sometimes supplementary maps are needed to add specific detail for bigger cities. A shiny red tack marks the corner of Westwood Blvd. & Broxton in honor of this event.

On the ride back home in my friend's car, I demanded a pit stop for snacks. Armed with enough burritos and tacos to start my own Taco Bell franchise, I finally arrived home. After covering my bed with various wrappers and hot sauces, I immediately felt the need to bathe. I grabbed a taco and headed for the shower. That's when I discovered it. The soap dish/taco holder. I've always wondered what that little dowel was for! The way that taco fit so perfectly in its holder was shockingly beautiful to me. Being able to eat a taco while washing my vaguely pukey-smelling hair was exquisite! I had to call everyone that night to apprise them of my exciting discovery.

I've never been so drunk and I hope I never am again, but there was something special about that night. That magical night in which I discovered just because you want something doesn't mean that you should have it, and that my shower sports an excellent taco holder. Should you find yourself in a similar predicament this holiday season (or place of bliss depending on how you see things), I hope you too are fortunate enough to have a friend who will hold your hair back and a revelation so profound that you need to call me at 3am to let me know all about it. Have a festive and safe new year!

I've Got Spirit, How About You?

Last night, on Christmas evening, I caught an episode of 3rd Rock from the Sun, the sitcom from the late 90’s starring John Lithgow as the high commander of four aliens who settle in a small city in Ohio to observe the human race. They were happy to celebrate their one year anniversary being on earth which also happened to be around the time of Christmas. They were very excited about the holiday until one thing or another extinguished their Christmas spirit, only for it to be rekindled before the end of the episode. That episode basically summarized in 28 minutes what I’ve gone through with my sentiment over the holiday season in the 28 years of my life.

This time of year used to be my favorite ‘twas the season to sing Christmas carols, watch A Christmas Story, eat candy canes and get presents. As a kid, I would do as any other kid would, get excited about getting presents, and tried to sneak peeks into what I would get. As I got older, the obligations and responsibilities of getting older, like taking tests and writing papers, along with the pressure of getting presents for the people “who counted” and making sure that I gave the right present – something that’s nice, but not TOO nice as to imply you were trying too hard for the particular person. Then came combing the malls and battling for parking spaces during the holiday shopping crunch, trying to find that “perfect” present for anyone and everyone. I sang few carols during that time, I didn’t get as many candy canes, and I cared less and less about getting presents, and even if I had any, I was more conscious of the beautiful wrapping that someone paid for just for it to be torn apart and discarded without much thought.

That’s not to say that I’ve become a regular Scrooge when it comes to this time of year; it just didn’t have that same kind of magic that it once held in my heart. Thankfully, my most recent trip to Europe reminded me what the Christmas spirit was all about. In fact, being there seemed more like Christmas than I’ve felt in a long time.

It helps that Munich and Salzburg are both very Catholic, and with Christmas just around the corner, holiday decorations, ice skating rinks, and if they weren’t up yet, Advents/Christkindl/etc. market stands were going up and running, selling Nativity scene figures and sets, Christmas tree ornaments, handmade toys, etc.

The highlight of these markets were the food stands that would sell things like Heisse Marroni (Roasted chestnuts), Gebrannte Mandeln (candied almonds), candied fruits, various types of Wurst, and the highlight of the trip, having Glüwein (mulled wine served hot) to warm up during the cold, winter-like days.

Aside from the fact that this was my first time being in a snowy place for the longest period of time, particularly during the Christmas season, being surrounded by Christmas without the pressure of having to buy something or get something for someone else.

I came back from the trip charged with Christmas spirit, ready to face the mall and whatever holiday season frustration I may have to face. That included being flipped off by a well-manicured hand that came out from under a window of a minivan while my roommate and I were driving on the 5 Freeway the day of Christmas Eve.

Short Story (part 5 of 5)

[Here's the conclusion to the critically acclaimed comedy I wrote last year. Peter Travers of Rolling Stones wrote, "it is an explosive tour de force magnum opus the likes of which we have not seen since Shakespeare himself trolled the internet." Here are parts one through four.]

“To great fucking friends!” Pablo said. I sat and the world spun like a carousel. My icy gin was like icy water. I lit a cigarette and gave one to Kent who slid it above his ear like a pencil.

“Lemme have one, Frank.” Had I not been so drunk I would’ve declined Vin’s drunken request. His girlfriend looked at me the way a gangster looks at a rival gang member. It wasn’t annoyance anymore. She looked as though she was going to maul me. I laughed.

“Hey, guys, hey, who in the hell goes to the beach, applies sunscreen on their body and neglects her face? Seriously, why would anybody do that?” Vin’s girlfriend had been guilty of this on an excursion we took to Mexico several years back. Her face became bloated, red, and her skin molted off. I laughed harder.

Kent lit his cigarette and I threw mine into the fire. I kept going about her folly at the beach and the smoke from Vin’s cigarette was blowing into her face in bursts through his chuckles. She was furious and trembling. I’d never seen her so angry.

“You stupid shit! You stupid, lazy shit! Why won’t you get a job! What the hell must your parents think!” She yelled and I laughed harder. She stood over the fire to look me in the eye. “You’re old, when are you going to start working!” Kent tossed the log into the fire. “Why haven’t you started wor--“ an ember flew into her face and she squealed as she slapped it off. Another flew onto her peasant dress as she sat down rubbing her face. The ember stuck and Vin attempted to bat it away, but in his drunken stupor, he only batted it deeper into her dress. A small flame caught and she panicked and attempted to get up but was unable due to Vin’s swatting at her legs. I stood and poured my watered down cup of gin onto her dress and the fire extinguished.

“Kent, shut it! Shut it, okay? You guys are making way too much noise!” Kent’s mother yelled half asleep and annoyed from the door of their house. Vin’s girlfriend was sobbing into his shoulder as they leaned into each other from their seats. Both of their faces were hidden behind the fire.

“Are you okay,” I asked her.

“Let’s go, Vin.” She stood and half supported him on her shoulder as she led him down the steps. We waited until we heard Vin’s car’s engine start before we began speaking.

“That was weird.” I said.

“You don’t remember last night, huh,” Kent asked me.

“What happened?”

“Vin called Pablo back. You asked to speak with him and asked that they join us. He said no and you pleaded that they join us next week. You said you wouldn’t tempt him with anything, and they agreed to visit on that condition.”

“Oh.” I felt a flicker of guilt. “Let’s take another shot.”

“To Vin?”

“To Vin,” I said and we drank.

Gender Issues in Illness

Apparently it’s common for women to complain about men being sick. Apparently, all that women do in their spare time is talk about how men are such babies. Babies!

My girlfriend and I were getting a ride home from my friend, let’s call her Raimee, when all of a sudden, as though unleashing a decade’s worth of repressed fury, Raimee explains to my girlfriend how men are such babies when they’re sick. My girlfriend reciprocated with the fervor of a priest belying the evils of satan to his parishioners. I was dumbstruck.

Waking with a fever of 105 and a migraine, I told my girlfriend that morning I had only a minor case of the sniffles, nothing to worry about, shall be fine with half an aspirin. She scoffed, turned and rolled herself in the blanket. I tugged at the blanket, but the fever’d sapped my strength. I tried to fall asleep but my shivering woke her.

“Oh, does the baby need his bwanket?”

“Please? It’s cold.”

“Here, you go. Da baby needs his bwanket!”

I was still deathly ill when I went out that night, but I doubt the women saw through my poker face. They carried on with their girl talk:

“When I get sick, nobody helps me out with anything! I do the laundry, the dishes without asking for a thing!”

“Haha, yeah! And when men get sick, all they do is complain! ‘Wah, my head hurts. Wah, my throat is sore!’ Nothing but complaining.”

“This morning my boyfriend—oh, is it too cold fo’ da baby? Does da baby need his window up cuz da baby is sick?”

“It’s a bit chilly, yes.” It was just above freezing, I’d given my jacket and sweater to my girlfriend and Raimee, and for some reason only my window was down. “I’m just glad we’re almost home! I’m really thirsty and could go for some chamomile and something sweet.”

“Wook, Waimee, da baby needs noo-twee-ents fo’ his body!”

“Aw, po’ baby needs his glucose monito’! Is his bwood-sugaw levoh too low?”

“Aw, da baby has hypoglycemia!”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m feeling faint and very nauseous. Any sweet will help me feel better actually.” At that point they started playing cat and mouse, tossing a Snickers bar over my head. After a minute or so they unwrapped it and ate it.

I’m not sure where all this hatred came from. Maybe all women are innately misandrists, and men being ill somehow disables what I like to call the Misandry Filter. Maybe I just don’t understand women. Maybe that’s why I’m still a virgin.

Chillin' in Los Angeles

When I was walking in a winter wonderland a little under a month ago in München and Salzburg, I figured that time spent in the freezing cold would be an excellent primer for the cold Los Angeles is experiencing now. Boy, was I wrong.

I suppose 10 days walking around dressed up like Randy in A Christmas Story wasn't quite long enough to thicken my Angelino-raised blood to this kind of chill. I feel somewhat defeated, for I think it was a big deal that I survived being in that kind of cold for the first time in my life, and can't seem to handle the weather when it's double the temperature when I'm at home.

In my own defense, there was a time in my life when I was slowly growing a thicker skin when I spent a few weeks in the New York City area, where I experienced freezing temperatures completely unprepared, and then spent the rest of the trip running around in a windbreaker and short sleeves in 50 degree weather. But that time is not now, and even though Jack Frost nipped at my nose in Europe, I am for sure not having it here in Los Angeles, of all places.

I am not one of those people who don the Uggs and the scarves when the temperature drops below 70, but when the temperature drops to the 40's at night and I'm hanging out at a place where heating isn't equally distributed around the place(For example, my house, my parents' house, some friends' homes, work), I get a little disgruntled that I almost have to wear the same clothes I wore outside in Europe when I'm indoors.

It's a little scary to think that it's not officially winter, but I do have to take into account that we're in between arctic storms, so that may have an effect on the current temperature. I'm sure with time, I, along with the rest of the frozen Angelinos, will eventually build a tolerance to this cold (even after heat spells in November), and in the meantime, American Apparel is once again very punctual with new products and can be stylin' wearing their new Unisex Ear Muffs

I may hold off on getting those, but I have to say earmuffs are definitely lifesavers out in the cold (I personally like this type myself), but in the meantime, I should maybe put on some socks and my brand new fleece fingerless gloves, because, Jiminy Christmas, it's COLD!


Me modeling my new gloves made for me by the lovely Sofia!
Do note the above photo is taken indoors, and yes, that's a little neckwarmer I'm wearing along with my coat and new gloves, which I didn't take off until I used the toilet this morning. It's THAT kind of cold.

Yelpy Holidays

If you're like me, unless you can't because of religious, health or personal reasons, you like drinking. And quite possibly, you'd be willing to do interesting things for booze. I have stories of helping a good friend clean up after the peak of her housewarming party and refusing to dump all the abandoned alcohol and kicked off the second part of the party disposing of the under-appreciated drinks. I've drank reclaimed Maß (German for their famous one-liter glass mug) after another when a best friend took a Stein or two from the vacated table of the group we joined in München's famed Hofbraühaus. I wasn't raised in the church, but if I was, I would have gladly ensured the tasteless and watered-down sacramental wine from mass would not go to waste.

Sadly (Perhaps fortunately...for everyone else), I didn't have that an exciting (Rather, drunken and cheap) night at this year's L.A. Yelp's Holiday Party. Sure, I had a blast, listening to the perfectly spun setlist by the night's DJ, trying to pretend my feet weren't killing me in my sassy gold Nicole Miller shoes (I am still waiting for all of the feeling in my third and fourth left toes to come back from that night) while I mixed and mingled and kind of tried moving as if to imply I was dancing without aggravating my aforementioned foot pain situation.

This is not to say that I'm not able to have a good time without being inebriated, for I really wasn't about to wait in the unbearable line to even pay for a drink. It was a nice opportunity to say hi to friends whom I haven't seen in ages, but made it really difficult to avoid those who I'd rather not see (like...that person I slyly cut in front of the line thanks to saying hi to a friend whom I haven't seen in ages).

It wasn't until my blog buddy, Frank, had the smart idea to accompany myself and some others and step out for a drink to take a swig o' the ol' Santa Anita Race Track water bottle (AKA Flask Pro Tempore). We were doing fine until we realized that there wasn't much in FPT to really get a good buzz going.

"No!" Frank yelled at us. "NO!!!"

"Frank, we can do a run to Trader Joe's around the corner." I told him. Without a word, Frank left the car and made his way back to the party.

Fortunately (for him), Frank managed to quaff a good volume of alcohol that night, while I stayed relatively dry until I was taught where to get the "Secret Wine."

All in all, the party was a great night, seeing old friends, rubbing elbows with the dressed up and cleaned up Yelpers and friends who aren't always looking as shiny and glammed up as most were that night...


...and of course, I along with those closest to him, needed to make sure Frank was eventually cut off as he started talking like a mad man, and wanted to prevent him from harming himself and others.

Holiday Party '08

If you’re like me, and I know you are, all of you, you like drinking. In fact, you like drinking so much that you’d be willing to kill for booze. Don’t deny it, there’s murderosity in each and every one of you. People are happy at parties until the booze runs out when free-for-all melees consume everyone in individual fight clouds.

This is how it was at Yelp’s annual holiday party. I was having a blast, enjoying an awesome mix of music, and dancing my ass off. I waltzed, did the twist, and tangoed all at once making women within eyeshot swoon. I was the life of the party, cracking jokes and making crowds explode with hearty laughs!

Everyone was having fun, even those waiting in the unending line for booze. I shook hands with my friends and glad handed my enemies. There were many.

Yes, everything was dandy until I stepped out for a drink. I invited a handful of my friends and we drank from a water bottle filled with vodka. We were doing fine until we left the car and were confronted by a couple bitter and very sober partygoers desperately in need of a drink.

“No!” I yelled at them. “No!”

“frank, there’s plenty left, just let them have some,” my colleague, Corazon, told me. They took a step closer and eyed me with despair and aggravation (desperation I think is the word). I pushed the guy and shoved his girlfriend. It was unfortunate that I did this as two police officers were driving up the street behind me.

“Shit, the fuzz!” yelled my colleague. She stashed the bottle in her purse and ran. I tried to keep up but my legs aren’t what they used to be in fifth grade and I was eventually tackled and beaten by the officers.

I spent the night in jail. All in all, the party was pretty fun. I'm happy to have seen my friends, I'm just glad the bitter couple's murderosity was far from surpassing Corazon and my murderosities.

It's a Little Easier Being Green

In the excitement of the giving season...rather, in the excitement of getting them in the mail, my sister gave me my Christmas present early, which was this awesome bamboo utensil kit from To-Go Ware I was jazzed (pictured is the design I got). Even though she kind of hinted that I'll be getting it, I was stoked to actually have it in my possession for me to use!

It's a one-stop container for one's utensil needs: a knife, fork, spoon and even swirly-ended chopsticks made of bamboo all in a container made of repurposed plastic shopping bags. The case is made by employing ragpickers in India to find discarded bags and create these cases, which gives them a job to do, and the utensils are made of bamboo, which is a very durable, sturdy and sustainable product; bamboo is a grass that grows quickly and is sustainably grown for this purpose.

After having it for two weeks now, I've had several opportunities to use my utensils that come with me wherever I go, and it's great. The spoon is a good size and its bowl is deep enough to get a nice bit of soup to sip. The fork's three wide set prongs work pretty well, but since the prongs widen quickly, it's sometimes hard to get a good grasp on some things like a piece of sliced carrot. The chopsticks have a cool spiral design on its top, and I really wouldn't know how a pair of chopsticks could be dysfunctional, and I have yet to try the knife. It isn't serrated, but it's not sharp per se, but it should be good enough a blade to cut through most things - I don't think it could get through a steak, but if you're eating a steak, I wouldn't think you'd be eating it at a to-go setting.

Even though I usually keep my plastic utensils once I've used them, using these utensils in lieu of their plastic cohorts will reduce the demand for them, and even though they'll still keep some in stock, using these reuseable option will reduce their need to restock the supplies, and one has more incentive to take home one's used utensil if there's a washable carrying case for one to take home and wash to use again another day.

I was at a meeting this week that provided lunch, and I got a big thumbs up when I busted out my bamboo fork for my pasta salad, and as all the other plastic forks were being tossed away after their one use, I wiped mine down, wrapped it in a bit of my old napkin to take home and wash for another day. Of course, the fork that came with my lunch came home with me to go with the other accumulated plastic forks, along with the Styrofoam containers my pasta salad and hot coffee came in so I can wash them and put them in my (now full) container full of old toilet paper/paper towel rolls, sauce cups, microwave dinner trays, foil, magazines, tissue paper, etc. so I can take them all to the Armory Center for the Arts so kids in their art classes can use them for their art projects.

It may take a little more work and effort to actually take these steps to make sure that waste isn't quite real waste until all its uses have been exhausted, and sure, sometimes I get funny looks or comments when people see me carrying around something I could just toss but keep knowing I can find another purpose for it. In the end, all these little steps may make a big difference, and thanks to this little kit, I'm better able to do my part in reducing my footprint on the earth.