"When it's 100 degrees in New York, it's 72 in Los Angeles. When it's 30 degrees in New York, in Los Angeles it's still 72. However, there are 6 million interesting people in New York, and only 72 in Los Angeles."*

   It rained** over the weekend and so today it was so clear that I realized that the San Gabriel Mountains were much larger than I thought they were. I’d never really seen them before and it turns out I’d just been looking at the foothills all these years. Ha! Weird, though, because if you can never see them, does it even matter that they’re there? (Whoa, that’s totally existential of me.) But we get so few clear days in Los Angeles that it was a real treat to find out about the mountains. Today it looked like this:

I love those hot air balloons. Love them.

   Minus the hot air balloon. And the regular balloon. And I didn’t draw in the mountains. I guess this is just what today felt like in my head.

  I was feeling pretty awesome this morning even without the mountains (though those made it even nicer) because I’ve FINALLY lost the weight I put on over Christmas and the New Year. That’s right, folks. I gained 6 pounds in two weeks at my parents’ house eating the following: Christmas cookies, my dad's brownies from-scratch (Grandma Begge's recipe), Kraft mac-n-cheese, and copious servings of buttered toast. (Disclaimer: these items were either gifts from schadenfroh*** neighbors or purchased by my mom for my sister Penelope, who can apparently eat whatever the fuck she wants and drink six regular cokes a day and not gain weight. The last time I could get away with that kind of diet, I was 8.) Turns out flour and sugar are bad for you and I had the gut to prove it. But now I’m back to my pre-holiday weight so I can start again with my regular 15-lb weight loss goal. Hooray for baby steps!

   So I went to my appointment for laser hair removal. (Yeah, I do that. You never know when Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue will need a last minute replacement for Marisa Miller.) So anyway, I had consciously made the appointment with Aren, seeing as how she is the technician I always visit. But it turns out my technician’s name has been Linda this whole time. Wow, I feel like an asshole leaving all those tips for Aren. And...wait for it...Aren is Linda’s SON. And he was the only technician working today. The receptionist, Annabelle, informed me that he’s really good and he’s an R.N. so I shouldn’t worry about showing him my vagina.

   I said, “Have you ever been to him?”

   She said, “Well, he’s my brother, so…”

   “So, no.”

   She said, “No. But people love him! He’s really good! People request him specifically.”

   I think that the “people” specifically requesting him were me. Last week. And notice she said "people" not "women."

   But then Annabelle told me that she has a male gynecologist. Helpful.

   Anyway, long story short (TOO LATE), I sucked it up and had my appointment with Aren. 

   Aren came out and Annabelle said, "Aren, take really good care of Lacey. It's her first time with a male technician and she's really excited!"

   I said, "Well now, that sounds wrong somehow."

   But you know what? Aside from not having much to say while he was working, Aren was truly excellent. I would see him again (just as friends). I think he’s better than his mom, even. And I feel like he probably deals with a fair amount of sexism (not to mention skepticism) in his line of work, what with being a man and all. On the other hand, maybe that’s a weird profession for a man. But on a third hand, I’m sure dudes that are getting hair lasered off their butt cheeks are happy that he’s doing what he's doing. Okay. I’m totally sold on Aren. (Which is apparently pronounced like “Aaron” and not, as I previously thought, an exotic, Armenian name pronounced like “are-en.” Or R.N., which he is!) And at least my tips were staying in the family.

   That’s enough/more than enough for now. Happy Monday!

*Neil Simon. Not to shit on LA, but have you ever noticed that when people who live here talk about it we always say, "Well, you can't beat the weather." That's because if we didn't have the weather, we'd kill ourselves.
**Due to the rain, my power went out for an unknown period of time over the weekend, which explains why the milk I poured all over my oatmeal led to a near-brush with vomiting.

***Schadenfroh, according to my sources (the Interwebs), is the adjective form of schadenfreude. It’s not really used in English, but it was the only word I wanted to describe people who bring plates of cookies to your house during the holiday season and call it "a gift."

"If you are blue it's easy to shake off your cares and troubles."*

Ann Miller shakes the blues away in Easter Parade.

            I’ve been slow to post in the last few days (week) and it’s not just because I’ve been eating for six.

            At the risk of sounding like a bah-humbug, I have to say that Christmas, once again, depressed the shit out of me.

            It’s a beautiful time of year, sure. People put lights on their houses and trees, frosted cookies in festive shapes abound, and I saw several yahoos driving around with antlers on their cars.

            But it’s also kind of a bummer somehow. I always end up feeling fat from all those cute cookies, the music is somehow sad because it reminds me of being younger and more excited about gifts and parties, money flies out of my bank account at incredible speeds, and the days are short and cold.

            Are you depressed yet? I hope not.

            This post is supposed to be about what I think can make the most sullen Scrooge McDuck feel a little bit better about life, even if it’s often more fun to think that life is meaningless and lay on the couch in the fetal position watching Sarah McLachlan sing about saving all the unwanted dogs and cats of the world (always thought that song was supposed to be romantic—boy was I wrong!). 

Sarah McLachlan's ASPCA ad.

            Here are my suggestions for riding out the holiday season, such as is left of it:

1.     Watch a movie that has NOTHING to do with Christmas. In fact, I did that one better and watched a movie about Easter. Easter Parade, to be exact. Now Easter is supposed to be the really big deal in the Christian calendar, because of the Resurrection and all that, but it often gets passed over (no pun intended, though I’m chuckling as I write that. I’m so clever!) because Christmas involves presents. But Easter Parade has nothing to do with Easter, and it’s just so damn happy that you can’t help but feel a bit better after watching it. I’m a sucker for Fred Astaire and Judy is at her finest, as I know I’ve mentioned before.

2.     Throw some stuff away. I went through my storage closet and started rummaging through boxes I hadn’t opened since I moved into this apartment seven-and-a-half years ago. Scary. And fun! I found clothes I didn’t want, spools of yarn from my short-lived knitting phase, a bunch of college papers and the screenplay my friend Gabe and I wrote in high school.

3.     Find the screenplay you wrote in high school with your friend Gabe. Ours was entirely handwritten in pink gel ink inside a red notebook. I actually couldn’t tell my handwriting from Gabe’s. After reading that, I couldn’t stop smiling for days. I’m smiling right now just thinking about it. And I’ll probably read it again tonight. And not just because it’s brilliant.

4.     Start your New Year’s resolutions early. I put the kibosh on eating entire hams and batches of cookies when I realized that I wasn’t at my parents house anymore, the scale thinks I weigh ten pounds more than I think I weigh, and I hadn’t exercised in six days. It’s only been one day (or 9 hours), but I already feel a lot better about my prospects for 2012.

5.     Reread a book you haven’t read since you were in fourth grade. I chose Island of the Blue Dolphins. I highly recommend it. And it won’t tax your brain, which is key if this suggestion is going to make you feel happy.(And don't start thinking about how you'd never make it on an island by yourself for 18 years. That's counterproductive and it's unlikely you'll ever be in that situation anyway.)

6.     Stop caring so much. I’ve decided to adopt a more hippie philosophy for the days sliding into the New Year. So what if life isn’t quite what I want it to be right now and I’ve not met my potential financially, romantically or artistically? There’s always the first of January looming and I can turn it all around then. In the meantime, I’m going to relax, bathe when it suits me, watch some bad television and let this year die with dignity.

            I hope this doesn’t make it sound like I’m really depressed. I am, but that’s not the point. This is supposed to be a funny blog, so I’m giving you the best I got at the moment. Here’s to the end of the old year!!

*This quote is from "Shaking the Blues Away", a song from Easter Parade. It was performed by Ann Miller and written by Irving Berlin. It was pointed out to me by one of my charges that most of the famous Christian holiday songs were written by Jews. He is so right. Love it.

"I'm looking through you, where did you go? I thought I knew you, what did I know?"*

           Well, I’m leaving Omaha today. It’s been a nice long vacation and I feel well rested and well fed. It was my dad’s birthday the day after Thanksgiving, so in addition to the copious turkey, stuffing, potatoes and pies left over from the holiday, we also had an AMAZING birthday cake from Bliss sitting around. I polished off a good third of it. Yum and ew, at the same time.

            I’ve not got much to say at the moment, except I feel it necessary to point out that I was misinformed when I said on Wednesday that Omaha doesn’t have those x-ray machines in the airport. Apparently, they do. I don’t think I went through it—they have to tell you, right? It’s random, right? I’d hate to think that the TSA crew just got a free show and I didn’t even know about it. I know a lot of people are concerned about the harmful effects of radiation, but I’m really just worried about getting naked in front of the airport staff. My body just isn’t where I want it to be right now.

This is atrocious! And this isn't me, so we're clear.

            And with that being said and the holiday being over, I head back to Los Angeles to begin again my obsessive war with food until December 22^nd, when I lift the ban on delicious things again until the New Year. (Okay, I just lied. I have no ban on delicious food. I have no self-control.) Thank god for the holiday season and stretchy pants. And, Omaha, I'll see you at Christmas. 

Aww...that's nice.

*Quote is from an esoteric 60's band called The Beatles. "I'm Looking Through You."