Does anyone else use WordPress.org? Can you please tell me why they have a new updated version like every frickin week? It drives me nuts.

I think I am going to transfer my other blog over to Blogger or something because I cant handle it anymore. What the hell is wrong with these people at WordPress.org that they cant make a decent, foolproof blog platform that will just stick already?

I wish I would have never used WordPress.org.

WordPress.org sucks.

I cannot even handle America anymore right now. Why IN THE HELL are people voting for the next American Idol and voting to KEEP people like Jason Castro, the dredlocked freakshow, and NOT voting for the best singer in the whole damn competition? Carly Smithson?

This is totally turning into a popularity contest instead of a singing contest. Let’s face it: people with no chance in hell of ever getting a record deal keep getting put through – Jason Castro, Michael Johns, Amanda Overmeyer…

They are getting put through because there is a certain genre of teeny boppers out there who keep voting for them. AGGHHHHHH. STOP IT. The best people on the whole show are David A, Carly, Ramielle and Seyesha. So can everyone start voting based on the singing talent and not the cuteness (or hotness) of the contestants?

Thank you.

Maybe you were right when you said, “We don’t even have to try, sister.”

They don’t even know what’s there, sister, they just want to get inside. Like it’s a fuckin amusement park ride.

Hold on, we should give ‘em blindfolds, because the illusion you safeguard allows you to hold

them in your cupped hands until they fold-and give you the gold at the end of the rainbow.

They’re yours to mold, sister.

Like the God-damned Plato we had when we were little, arguing over who would sit in the middle, and who would go first, and who was prettier.

Now it’s a matter of who’s been treated shittier, and who cares less about the quarter-life mess we seem to think we’re in, And, those wanna-be riders we left back in line, second guessing ourselves and our own skin.

I’m making sure all the pieces properly fit in. I’m measuring the growth marks on the old closet wall

Against our undocumented sins, sister.

You make me smile, not cry. You try not to keep things inside.

You help me to let go. You tell me things I need to know.

You scratch my back – help me see what I lack.

You make me tea at night. We hardly ever fight.

You’re always there for me. Especially financially!

You’re starting to tell me how you, too, have been hurt.

When I make a mess you help me sweep up my dirt.

You’ve always tried to make up for my Dad. And although it was killing you, you’d make sure I wasn’t sad.

You may as well have raised me alone (don’t protect him). You’ve taught me not to throw sticks and stones (don’t defend him).

Although it hurt, you set me out to be free; and now you’ve even learned from me…

You’ve shown me what a true woman should be.

And I hope everything that you are will one day be seen in me.

A month has passed, maybe two. I wonder why I still watch you.

I said to you — please keep in mind when you’re choosing — that what you give -you’ll get right back, and you know how I hate losing.

I think that sometimes we’re thinking the same, then you remind me–it’s all about the game.

Are you challenging me?

It’s just like getting on base, it’s more exciting when it’s all about the chase.

But I need something I can actually claim, I was thinking when you whispered, “You love the game.”

But then you walk, you smile at me as you talk. Your eyes tell me: “I’m glad you came.”

You don’t know I figured out your game.

I’m done playing — but your others will do. They’ll keep trying and trying to score for you.

You’ll eventually realize that you’re brimming with shame because everyone knows you didn’t really win any games.

You’ll say, “Gimmie something – she’s familiar – what’s her name? I’ll start all over – I love this game.”

So this is just a big rant.

Last Friday I’m driving along the road about to turn right when this lady smacks right into the back of my car. I immediately turned on my hazard lights and pulled over to the side. Imagine my dismay when she pulls up next to me, rolls down her window, and screams “Oh – there’s no damage,” and speeds off. What the f**c? Are you KIDDING me?

 Not one to be outdone or taken advantage of I pursued her while on the phone with the 911 operator. Mean while I’m hysterical crying and shaking with anger. I followed her for about two miles and got the license plate number but that was not good enough for me. While the operator is encouraging me to back off since I gave the plate number, I am honking and flashing my lights at her and yelling at her (like she can hear me or something). Finally, this stupid nitwit pulls over in the parking garage of the mall.

Still on the phone with 911, I SCREAMED out the window, “Pull the F**K over – the police are coming. You just fled the scene of an accident.” She started to freak out and stopped her car. She got out and came to look at my car and I yelled: “you don’t just smack into someone’s car and leave you idiot.” Meanwhile the 911 operator – on the phone with the local police – is saying “Caller is about to get into an altercation with the suspect.” HELL YA I’m about to get into an altercation…

 Then the lady comes over to my car and I’m SCREAMING at her, “there’s no damage? You stupid $%#$%#$.” And she has the nerve to say, “well that damage isn’t from me.” OH MY GOD it took every ounce of strength I had to not attack this woman. I DO know karate and I was so tempted to take her the F**K down.

The police finally get there and took a report, took pictures. The police woman takes our insurance and gets both sides of the story. This stupid bitch that hit me said that I TOLD HER TO MOVE. What an idiot. I was motioning for her to pull over and she tells the cop that I told her to LEAVE. I WAS ABSOLUTELY DUMBFOUNDED that a 50-year-old woman who has her daughter in the car sits there and LIES TO THE POLICE LADY’s FACE. Who does that? I cannot catch a break here.

The police woman gave me the other lady’s name and insurance (supposedly) and tells me that she is citing the lady for fleeing an accident scene. YES!!!!!!!!

Imagine – again – my dismay, when her insurance company calls me and says the car is not insured with them. This stupid woman FALSIFIED A FREAKING POLICE REPORt. I went and got a copy of the report. AGAIN, I can’t catch a break. That stupid LYING COP — (Officer Traub, Beachwood Ohio Police – if you are out there I’m talking to you) cited her for FOLLOWING TOO CLOSELY. SAYING NOTHING ABOUT FLEEING THE SCENE.

The lady that hit me can’t even call me back. She has her husband do it, and he tells me his wife is a “tough patient.” I could think of more choice words on that one.” He has the nerve to start yelling at me when I ask for the correct insurance information. Telling me it will be taken care of. And telling me that it isn’t his car OR her car, it’s his Dad’s or something. Then  I tell him that Nationwide called me and said they don’t cover the car. Then he starts yelling even more, pissed off that my insurance guy had already been processing this.

THEN my insurance agent calls me and tells me that Nationwide’s claim service SUCKS and they are trying to avoid setting up a claim.

So here I am -  a week later with NO answers, no idea who owns the car, no idea if they even have car insurance, and an estimate for $500 worth of damage to my year-old SAAB. My baby.

Why do the people who deserve bad karma never get it?

I have absolutely NO power here and it’s driving me crazy. There is nothing I can do. I do intend to call the police officer and politely ask her why there was no citation for fleeing the scene of an accident. Then I plan on telling her there is false information on the report. Then, if she doesn’t do anything, I plan to write or visit her Captain and tell him of the inefficiencies of his police force. AND the Mayor of the City. That’s how PISSED OFF I am right now.

 Suggestions…?

Who likes to shop online? Who has an unstoppable addiction to the wonderful process of buying something at the click of a button, then getting one of those wonderful smelling UPS packages on the doorstep the next day…?

I can never help myself. The makeup-buying is the worst. God forbid I just go and buy mascara at the grocery store. Eventhough it will sit in my drawer filled with all the other $15 tubes that I have amassed and not used…

 Thank God for Cyber Monday. Across cyberspace we’re all getting discounts, free shipping, free giveaways, incentive prizes and more! Whew -hew! Especially for women’s products, BuymeBeauty.com has 30% off of your order, and they have all the over-the-counter stuff as well as high-end.

Sephora.com has free samples when you purchase something if you sign up for their mailing list (which you can later opt out of). Plus they have free shipping if you spend $50 (which is nothing if you ask me…)

philosophy.com lets you make payments on their beauty kits - which are the best thing ever created for womankind. That stuff keeps my skin so squeeky-clean and blemish-free, it’s amazing considering the amount of soda and cigarettes I consume. Plus, you get ALL KINDS of good stuff if you join their Radiant Rewards program. Philosophy is the mecca for women who want clean skin and the best skin care (for body, too). I’m telling you – it’s worth it. I have never turned my back since I discovered this line. Try the Inner Grace line - it is so soft and feminine, and clean, but it’s not overbearing, deeply floral or musky or anything gross like that. Plus, if you order something now from their site you get free Microdelivery Peel pads. These things are like skin-liquor. I swear by them.

Dermstore has free shipping right now on all orders, too, and you can shop by phone if you’d like. Sometimes that’s easier… Their site is really neat because it’s all alphabetized so it’s really user-friendly. Cosmetique also gives you free shipping if you spend over $40.

Let me know what you gals find and what you think, too.

Happy Shopping!

I chose the title above because it was something I never understood when I was younger. Reading T.S. Eliot in Honors English (I wasn’t good enough for AP English… if only they could see me now! A REAL writer, a published professional one!), I came upon this quote and was completely perplexed. Usually when I don’t understand something I reject it. I think a lot of people do that.

Anyhow, I wrote it off as stupid and meaningless. Now that I am old and wise (jk) I realize how it applies to me. Anytime something changes in my life, whether self-inflicted or otherwise, a new door opens. Sometimes the door shuts, sometimes it doesn’t. Anytime I go through one of those doors, it’s a beginning.

Thus brings me to a beginning. A beginning I had shortly after I came across that saying.

I grew up in Solon, OH. Boring, small town but as a teenager it was the only thing I knew. And I knew it well enough to know that I wanted to get the hell out. I felt I was destined to find bigger and better things. Solon was a town divided in half: the Jewish people lived in north part of town, the rest in the south and middle. We had a few diners, fast food, and strip malls, a really good football team, and a really good community park - so I’m not talking small town with no traffic lights, but it was small enough where everyone in high school new everyone else’s business, everyone else’s family, etc. And it was small enough to have the typical chick cliques, etc (which I was never a part of). I spread myself around with my other two best friends and we often got “snubbed” by the “popular” crew for befriending their not-the-chosen-ones types. We were popular enough to be on Homecoming court, but normal and nice enough to be friends with everyone and not judge people. That drove the other girls nuts! (Ahhhh-haaaa.)

Anyways, the summer before my senior year of high school my wish to leave Solon and Ohio in general was granted. My mother got remarried and moved me to the OC. Yes, I went from teeny, tiny Midwestern Solon to big bitchy, intimidating Newport Beach, CA.

I had no idea how hard it would be to make this new beginning until I was standing in the airport clutching my best friend so tightly her teeny anorexic body almost cracked in half. I couldn’t let go and suddenly burst into tears which was rare for me.

It was the end of “the old me.” It was the beginning of “the me I don’t like.” The beginning of the latter was the end of the former. HAHA. (How’s that for wordiness?)

The first day of school I pulled into the Senior Parking Lot at Corona del Mar High School. I was SO excited because I was driving my Mom’s brand new Altima. (I never had my own car in Solon, we couldn’t afford it.) Imagine my surprise when I find myself in a sea of classic Corvettes and muscle cars, Mercedes-galore, and Lexuses. I was quickly humbled and got out of the car. A girl came FLYING into the spot next to me and immediately looked me up and down as she almost ran over my foot. She was driving my dream car:  a shiny, sparkling, black BMW 325-i convertible with a tan interior (the top was down so I could see inside). I looked it up and down and noticed the license plate. It said: “AS IF.” That was it. “AS IF.” This is straight out of the movie Clueless, and I soon realized the whole damn senior class personified this.

 Anyhow, I braved the first day without a friend as I expected. What I didn’t expect was to go 3 months without friends. The kids were so judgmental and impolite, they talked down to their parents and teachers, they were crude, they were impolite, and they had SERIOUS entitlement problems. Most of the girls I tried to make friends with called me a lesbian for talking to them. At school and anywhere in Newport Beach – the mall, the grocery store, the park, I said hi to people as is custom in the Midwest, and they would just look at me in amazement like I was interrupting the most important moment of their lives. The schoolkids made fun of my Birkenstocks, casual dress, willingness to participate in class and sit in the front, and God damn them for making fun of my fishing hat (my old boyfriend gave it to me and it was very close to my heart).  Making it even worse – I never wore makeup. I’m not blowing smoke up my ass – but I didn’t need it. Plus I didn’t really have any, and if I did, I had no idea how to apply it. My only armor was lip gloss and shiny nose powder. Simple as that.

The first day of school they sent home a Dress Code Manual – yes, a MANUAL – and the number two rule was: “All females are required to wear underwear at all times on campus.” These chicks didn’t even wear underwear!!!! I didn’t even know what a thong was at that point in my life, but didn’t wonder why it was necessary to have that rule, as I got flashed a cooter in homeroom from the girl in front of me. She was this teeny, tiny little Vietnamese girl dressed like a hooker (they all were – even the ugly girls dressed liked hookers) and she leaned up to talk to the person at the desk in front of her, and BOOM. The pink taco was out!

After eating lunch alone in the bathroom for a week I learned I was allowed to leave campus since I had above a 3.5 coming in.  Thank God because no one (girls) really ate.

The girls had $5k credit card limits on their Daddy’s AMEX every MONTH. They drove brand new BMWs and Mustangs and Suburbans. The girls got boob jobs for their 18th birthday presents, they got lip injections, eye-widening surgeries (the chosen procedure for the Japanese and Asians there – which there are a shitload of), and nose jobs. They surfed, skateboarded and played water polo and did all kinds of things I never knew about. Including druge. The very first time I ever saw weed, cocaine or Meth was at a New Years Eve party that year and I was scared shitless of it. Not only was I intimidated as hell at the party because I wore a simple black skirt and cute top and these chicks were totally pimped out in Gucci and Betsey Johnson, but also I was intimidated by the fact that everyone did drugs. I couldn’t understand it.

Throughout the year I would call my friends back in Solon, LONGING to return. I was SO close to moving back to live with one of my two best friends, but suddenly struck with a kidney malfunction (don’t ask) that required hospitalization and 6 weeks of bedrest so I wasn’t going anywhere…

When I came home to visit for the holidays (pre-surgery) it was like storytime around Jaime. It was like a TV show. You gotta understand that growing up in a tiny Midwestern town my world was very safe. Very contained. Very protected. So I was very naive. Very nice. Very confident and quite fearless. To teenagers (and actually to a lot of older people I know) California is like this big dream place. When you hear California, you think of Hollywood, Los Angeles, the OC (TV show), Laguna Beach (the TV show), and celebrities. You think of the Grammy’s anmd Emmy’s, Melrose Place and Rodeo Drive, Pretty Woman, Haight Street in San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge, Jack Kerouac and the bleeding-heart liberals at Berkeley.

What people DON’T realize is how many freakin’ WANNA-BES there are there, how disdainful, immoral and unethical the people are. How materialistic everyone is.  How there’s no middle-class.  How minorities outnumber American caucasians. How there’s NO open space and no greenery. How residents don’t care about all the aforementioned. And how sad most of their lives really are…

 …to be continued