Having Your iPhone Stolen Sucks

I just got my first iPhone a few months back. It was love at first sight. The sleek design. The colorful apps. We were a match made in heaven. In fact, if my husband and my iPhone were both drowning I’d have a hell of a hard time deciding which one to save. But, today my deepest fears came true when my iPhone was stolen. I was at the beach with my daughter and a couple of her friends. A man (later to be known as “the thief”) came over and sat close to us.  Not too close to bother us, but close enough to feel like he was invading my personal space. He waited until we were all in the water and then made his move. By the time I was out of the water, my iPhone was history. This man was a good thief. His calculated move of sitting close was brilliant so nearby beachgoers would think nothing of him going through my purse. The thief also faced the water so I never saw a good look at his face therefore being unable to identify him. Yes, this thief was a good thief. So good in fact, that he almost deserves my iPhone. Not quite. But almost.

Did You Know I’m In A Band?

Yes, it’s true. I learned how to play guitar a few months back, and now I’m a member of a band we call, The Liver Spotz (notice the letter “z” which makes our name ultra cool). The band consists of friend Simon Millar on guitar, Paul Gardner on keyboard, and my husband Jeff on yet another guitar. Currently I’m sleeping with Jeff, but you never know what can happen because, hey, I’m in a band. I too play guitar and I’m also lead singer (because no one else wants to be), music sheet copier and distributor (because no one else will do it), guitar strap and music stand procurer (because I have a friend who’s a musician…thanks Kay), and roadie who sets up the band whenever we have a gig (we actually had one!). The only thing I don’t do is tune my guitar because I think tuning is for wimps. Besides I don’t know how to so my my husband does it for me. I am sleeping with the guy so it’s the least he can do if he hopes to keep me around.

As mentioned, we had a gig. It was last night during the Abram’s drinking party. There was plenty of drama surrounding the day with our keyboard player quitting the band and then changing his mind at the last minute, and Simon insisting we rehearse one more time as if it would make a hell of a difference. We went on at 9:00 pm and  our set consisted of three songs: “Mother and Child,” “Father and Son” and “In My Mind I’m Going to Carolina” (yes, we’re old). We had more songs to play, but after three songs we realized how much we suck, and how the guests were more interested in getting Jello shots than listening to us play.

All in all, it was a great evening. Historic even, since it marked the last performance of The Liver Spotz.  I did learn a lot though. I learned how hard it is to keep a band together. Why concert tickets cost so damn much because there’s so much work takes place behind the scenes. And how much alcohol is involved to make an inherently shy woman get up in front of group of people and make a fool out of herself. But when you’re in a band, you do what ya gotta do. And yes, I am in a band.

Having Your Kid Graduate From Elementary School Sucks!

I knew the bubble would burst one day, and that day is finally here. After six very fast years, my little girl is now a woman…or at least an elementary school graduate. Good-bye enchanted land of jungle gyms and milk wagons and children laughing on the playground. Hello middle school with your nasty underarm hair and body odor and raging hormones. What was once, “Mommy, guess what I learned in school today?” will now become, “Hey lady, it’s none of your damn beezwax what my homework is…and don’t be picking me up in front of school where everyone can see you. Haven’t I told you enough times already? Jeez!”

So if you hear the sound of a loud burst today, don’t worry. It’s not a space shuttle entering the atmosphere or a wrecking ball hitting a condemned building. It’s just the sound of that six year old bubble finally exploding. Oh, and don’t be surprised if that popping sound is followed by a torrential downpour. That’ll just be my tears. I’m thinking it may ease the L.A. drought situation.

Congratulations to my beautiful, precious daughter on your amazing accomplishment! I couldn’t be more proud.

“Divorce Sucks” Cover

I can finally post the cover art for the latest book in the “Sucks” series, “Divorce Sucks!” Written by Mary Jo Eustace, the woman whose hubby left her for Tori Spelling, it’s one part divorce guide, one part laugh til you cry saga of a courageous woman whose post marital heartbreak was splashed all over the Hollywood tabloids. If she can make it through to the other side a happier and better person, so can you! It comes out in September, but amazon is taking pre-orders now. Click on cover art on the right side of this site to order your copy today.

“Divorce Sucks” Has Finally Leaked!

I haven’t wanted to say anything but it’s been leaked to both Page Six and Perezhilton. Yes, it’s true! My next book is called, “Divorce Sucks” and it’s written by none other than Mary Jo Eustace, the woman whose husband left her for Tori Spelling. I was friends with both Mary Jo and Dean when they were married and witnessed Mary Jo’s tremendous courage when Dean “met his soul mate” and left her and their newly adopted infant daughter. She went through a horrendous divorce in the limelight of Hollywood and is finally ready to tell her tale. But, it’s not a tell-all. Although there are many tasty tidbits , like all the other books in the “Sucks” series, the main focus is to help others through a difficult time and Mary Jo does a tremendous job of guiding someone through the perils of a sucky divorce. The book  is full of advice, tips, stories and inspiring thoughts that can make the hell of ending a marriage a whole lot easier. Look for “Divorce Sucks” in September or you can pre-order it through amazon.com. I’ll post the cover as soon as it’s allowed. It’s pretty cool!

GUILTY!

It was unanimous. All twelve of us came to the conclusion that the defendant was guilty! There was one women who took a long time to move over to the dark side, but she brought in homemade chocolate chip cookies this morning so we forgave her. They were still warm. We had no choice.

After all said and done, and all my bitching and complaining, it really was a good experience. I learned a lot about the judicial process and felt that I was part of an important system. And when it was all over and we got to chat with the lawyers, I felt confident we had made the right decision. Oh, and when I asked the lawyer how they could have chosen me for a juror when I had a minor child to care for, he said that can’t be used as an excuse anymore. He went on to say he chose me because I came across as an intelligent person capable of making an informed and educated decision. So I forgave me. Like with the cookies, I had no choice.

I Forgive You, O.J. Jurors

For years, I’ve been harboring resentment towards the jurors in the original O.J. Simpson case. How can those twelve people hear the evidence and not convict that man? I was perplexed. Dumbstruck. Even angered. But now that I’m the one sitting in the juror box all day, listening to testimony, weighing the evidence, and staring at the judges horrendous toupee wondering how that thing can sit on his head all day without moving, I now understand how a thing like that can happen.

You see, we jurors are given strict guidelines to follow that educate us in what determines guilt, how to judge testimony, what constitutes a “shadow of a doubt” and other various aspects of a case that are too boring to show on dramatic television. So today, when I sit with my eleven fellow jurors deciding the outcome of my trial, I’m grateful this case wasn’t broadcast to the world so that others won’t judge me as I did to the O.J. jurors. Forgive me O.J. jurors. I was wrong. An now that I sit in your seat, I understand why you sided the way you did. What I can’t understand however, is how a judge can wear that thing on his head and be oblivious to it’s powers of distraction.

Jury Duty Sucks Again

A couple of years back, I wrote about my sucky jury duty, but back then, I wasn’t even chosen for a trial. This time, I wasn’t as lucky. Yes, for the next week, I will officially be referred to as “Juror #10,” a vital part of the judicial process. So vital in fact, that it is deemed worthy of $15 per-day salary plus one-way milage reimbursement. Whoo boy.

Look, in an ideal world, I’d be delighted to serve on jury duty, but not when I have a kid in elementary school to pick up every day. There were 35 of us to choose from, many of which stated they’d be delighted to serve. But did they choose them??? Noooooo. Even though I told the court I had no one to get my daughter, they didn’t give a courtroom crap. They didn’t even dismiss the poor woman who recently lost her child nor the one whose husband just lost his job so she’s the sole provider of her family of eight living paycheck to paycheck. Jeez! Dear President Obama, can’t you please restructure the judicial system so the court will prioritize their jurors according to those that want, and are able, to serve. Thank you.

Your biggest fan,

Juror #10, the bitter and disgruntled juror

Getting Old Sucks

This is how pathetic my  life has become now that I’m over forty…okay, way over forty. In my younger days, before the need for wrinkle creams and hormone patches, I’d get attention from men. But back then, I hated it. Whenever I’d walk down the street and some creep in a construction truck would gawk and holler, I’d get grossed out, look down and sprint  on past. But now things have changed. Men don’t gawk anymore. And the only time they holler is if I’m crossing against the light. But this morning, a miracle happened. I was finishing up a hike and heading back to my car when a guy in a pickup said hello to me. This time, instead of being grossed out, I was so pathetic, I looked up at him and smiled with grateful eyes. Turns out, the guy in the truck is a friend of the family who was just saying hello. Crap. It seems the only way a guy will give me attention anymore is if I actually know him.  Man, getting old sucks big time.

This Day Sucks

I spent the morning cleaning off the pool cover after a Winter’s long period of neglect until it’s nothing but a slab of plastic covered with primordial ooze. Then, my pre-teen, hormonal, pissed-off daughter just ran away from home. Gotta break it to the hubby. He will not be too pleased. Be on the look out for a bitter eleven year old.

* Update: The kid came home after 6 minutes and announced that she was going to play outside. Is it wrong to say it was one of the calmest six minutes I’ve had for the past 11 years?