Friday, July 31, 2009

The future

I haven't yet mentioned this, but I got news from my boss last week. They would like me to stay on as a regular employee. Yes, folks. I now have a permanent job. I can stop worrying that I would soon have to start seeking employment elsewhere. As you can surely imagine, this is a great weight off my shoulders.

So let us raise a glass to my good fortunes!

Also in the future is the arrival of my Boston buddy, Brandon. He was one of my first grad school friends and I am excited to be reunited. He will soon begin an epic road trip from Boston to a new life in LA. He will be finishing up his schooling on the West Coast and then, life allowing, stay on indefinitely.

I feel really guilty though. Another great Boston friend also came to LA to finish up grad school and is still living here. I came back from England, but have not spent a single moment with her. At first there were legitimate reasons for not driving up to visit her. There was that month where I had the neverending flu. Then one thing or another got in the way. And then my fruitless job hunt drove me into a depression that took me away from even my best friend for a very long period of time. I don't think any of these circumstances are my fault, but maybe they are. Life just kept getting in the way. I just feel guilty that I'm in a better place with this friend as opposed to my other good friend. On the plus side, they'll both be in LA and I can make up for lost time with the both of them. I'm sure everything will work itself out.

And now I raise my glass to your good fortunes!


- R

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

From the twisted mind of Roberto

It's a fact that I have the strangest and most vivid dreams.

Take last night's show for example......

It featured an opulent mansion that was the site of a fancy dress party. This mansion belonged to my best friend's ex. Emily and Richard Gilmore (of The Gilmore Girls) were my grandparents. I had to fetch a tuxedo from within the mansion, but had to convince the butler that I was actually performing a task for the lady of the house and not just trying to steal the tuxedo. The butler gave me a choice between the Berton (pronounced with a French accent) or the Burberry tuxedo. I chose the Berton. Upon acquiring the tuxedo I was informed that my essay (I apparently had submitted an essay into a writing contest) was chosen for publication. The four judges could only speak French, so we start having a conversation in French. After leaving the French-speaking judges, I enter the party inside the mansion. Within I find my high school French teacher. Also there are some of my Nordstrom co-workers, but I recognize them as classmates. I start having a drink to celebrate my win, but my former teacher informs me that no drinking is allowed at school functions. I apologize (still in French), but she allows me to finish my drink since it's a special occasion. At this point my friend's ex comes home and I follow him up to his room. I help him fold a large wool blanket and put it on his sister's water bed.

Then I wake up.

Someone make sense of this for me. I have no explanation whatsoever. Then again I can never explain any of my dreams.

Like the one where I am flying around in a little rocket ship. My ship is hit by an enemy missile and I crash into the water surrounding San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge. I then realize that there is a shark in the water. I stand/float perfectly still so that it won't attack me. The shark puts its face right next to mine and I can feel one of its teeth graze my cheek as it wonders whether I'm actually alive. I woke up frightened and the physical feeling of that graze still present on my cheek.

But the most terrifying dream I have ever had was one that bothered me all the next day. I dreamed that my sister was late in coming home. My mom and I go out looking for her. We eventually find her on the driveway of some house, her body lifeless and limbs all askew like a rag doll. We discern that she was raped, murdered, and thrown off the 2nd story balcony of the house we find her at. I could physically feel my body tensing up as my mind registered the shocking image. Then my mother emits a blood-curling scream that is filled with such indescribable pain, disbelief, and rage. I woke up from this dream a sweaty and terrified mess. My poor girlfriend lying in bed next to me was just as scared because I practically threw her off the bed as I violently awoke.

Of course, not all my dreams are nearly this exciting. There was one where I simply stood at a sink and shaved. That's it. Nothing else happened. I just watched myself shaving. I woke up from that one confused and bored out of my mind.

What is the most bizarre/scary/vivid/boring dream you've ever had? I can't possibly be the only person with a crazy imagination.

Share with me, people.


- R

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Things I overheard #12

Was at work when I witnessed some Grade A cattiness. This short-haired blonde woman was checking out Reef flip flops while on her cell phone. She looked and sounded very Orange County. If you don't know what I mean by that, then just imagine the most haughty, egotistical woman you know.... and double it. That is what I mean by a woman that is so Orange County. A very Orange County guy is also haughty and egotistical, but blended with a large dose of douchebaggery. This place and lifestyle goes to people's heads and makes them believe that everything they do and say is oh so important.

That being said, on to the story. Imagine that every word reeks of overblown indignation.

"Oh my god, Lauren. Can you believe Kate didn't invite me to her wedding? Not that I would have gone anyway! But I should have been invited. *scoff* I know I didn't invite her to my wedding either. *sigh* I guess you're right.... Why would she want me at her wedding when I didn't want her at mine? But still! I should have received an invitation. I swear, some people are so petty!"

I was not shocked in the least by this woman's behavior. These are the kind of people that live in Orange County. I'm used to the BS. What I did do was try my best to contain my laughter.

Also, I could not help but be reminded of my own family. With the exception of one, all my aunts are just like this woman. The women my uncles married are the quintessential backstabbing, two-faced, hypocritical "frenemies." At any one time they are sweet talking one sister-in-law while talking shit on another, all while oozing self-righteousness from every pore.

I often get asked why I hate living here so much when it looks like one giant vacation resort with such perfect weather. Yes, it's pretty. Yes, the weather is pleasant. But oh this place, that has such people in it!

Welcome to Orange County.


- R

Friday, July 10, 2009

My raisin and me

I've been staring at this blank page for the past.... well, I won't admit how long I've been staring at this blank page. Let's just say it's been a while. Damn writer's block!

It's been far too long since my last post, so I will fix this situation by presenting another blast from the past. That's right, folks. "Classic Roberto" is back! It's been a while since the last one, hasn't it? If I don't have the time to write an original post, then I might as well bring out some of my past writings from limbo.

Today's piece is a bit of creative writing I did back in journalism school. We had to eat a raisin and describe the experience. It was supposed to teach us some sort of lesson about writing, but I'm not sure any of us actually learned something. All I know is that I don't care for raisins and here was this man telling me, "Here. Stick this in your mouth.*"



- R

* Yes, I am very much aware of how filthy this sounds. I love a good double-entendre, don't you?


I’ve never felt more self-conscious about eating a raisin. I’ve also never put much thought, or any thought for that matter, into my experience with a raisin. It’s not often someone tells me to eat a raisin and be in the moment. Moment? What moment? Usually I just put them in my mouth and that is the end of it.

Well, actually, I never eat raisins… unless they are covered in chocolate. I find that most foods simply taste better when they are covered in chocolate, or fried. But I digress. Back to the raisin.

It goes in my mouth and I realize how similar the texture is to that of a rubber band. “How do you know what a rubber band tastes like?” you say. To that I reply, “I was curious.”

I chew the tiny dark fruit for what seems like an eternity. It’s amazing how long you can make a single raisin last. Spending so much time chewing a raisin is also a bit awkward. I can feel the raisin’s tart gooey innards slowly seeping out of the wrinkly, rubbery exoskeleton.

The awkwardness continues as that same rubbery and wrinkly texture inexplicably reminds me of “The Golden Girls.” Now it’s just uncomfortable. “Oh God, I’m eating Sophia!”

I can never look at a raisin the same way again. At least, one that isn’t covered in chocolate.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

I just had an orgasm

I just want to say that seeing these promotional shots for Tim Burton's upcoming adaptation of Alice in Wonderland have caused me to spontaneously climax. I am now in need of new pants. That is all.


- R

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Manners are so last year

Why are people so damn rude?

I'm speaking to you, Miss Chews Gum Like A Horse Eating Hay. And you, Miss Never Gets Off Her Cell Phone.

I don't care if people chew gum. It's the people who chew gum like it's their job to ensure we see and hear them chewing it.

"So *smack* can *smack* I *smack* get *smack* this *smack* in *smack* a *smack* 6 *smack* and *smack* 6 1/2 *smack**smack*?"

I think I demonstrate a lot of restraint by not slapping it out of their mouths.

But worse are the people whose phones are permanently attached to their ears. If you are having that important a conversation that you absolutely cannot hang up, then you probably shouldn't be out shopping for shoes. Your attention should be soley on your conversation.

The absolute worst was one woman who apparently was having the most important conversation of her life. She came in talking on her phone. Grabbed the shoes she wanted me to get her. Used her fingers to signal the size she needed and walked off.

I came back with the shoes she so politely requested. She was still on the phone. I had her sit down to try on her selection, but I seemingly picked a bad spot because her reception cut out.

"Aww.. no reception," she commented. She gets up and finds herself a cell phone-friendly seat to continue talking. I bring the shoes to her new spot. She tries on her shoes whilst talking on the phone. Then, still talking and without really looking at me, hands me a shoe box and her credit card. I bring over her purchase and she walks away, still talking.

What. The. Hell?

Is it so bloody difficult to say, "I'll call you back"?

Apparently so.

Dear readers, I hope you treat other people with respect. Courtesy is neither painful nor a waste of time.


- R