Hello? Is anyone out there? I know it's been more than a year, so why should anyone still be clicking on little old me. What a ride it's been since we've last touch based. And no I'm not referring to Jurassic Park, which I'm sure must have been quite boring to look at all this time. To quickly catch you up for anyone who might care, I am employed- a network assistant. Although, I care not to change the name of this blog, because I trip about what tomorrow brings on a daily basis, and i have a habit of tripping so it just seems fitting.

So something happened to me Tuesday, I never really imagined would happen. I was leaving a mixer for assistants with two other girls, when these firemen waved to us from across the street. So we go over, and they gave us a tour of the firehouse. Now, firehouses have always fascinated me. Everytime I drive by one, I wonder who's on shift, where the kitchen is? Strange, maybe. Kismet, yes. We sat in the firetruck and we were able to put on their headsets equipped with mics so we could hear what eachother were saying had the siren gone on. Then the extremely fit masculine fireman asked us if we wanted to slide down their pole. They asked us this in all seriousness , without any irony. How could we say no? They took us up three flights off stairs to a dark room, where firepeople slumbered. We were asked to be quiet so as not to disturb them, meanwhile, three giggling girls in heels (me in a short flouncy skirt) found ourselves facing a pole. A steely pole that had to be 18 ft hight in the middle of a 5ft wide circle. It was much higher then I ever thought. We were told to lean against the pole and the put one leg across it, and then the other. One girl went down, then another. It was just me and the burly fireman. He asked me in his deep voice with his hands stretched out, "Do you trust me?"

Sorry, did I hit my head and wake up in a romance novel? Well guess what Mr. Fireman, I just met you and NO I don't generally trust strangers, and what are you doing that will help me get down this pole?? My getting down the pole depends entirely on the strength of my own legs.

But, we only live once, and when else will I be kindly asked in the humble abode of these kind heroes. So he asked (as my knight in shining armor would) the other firemen below to turn their heads, so as not to see up my skirt. I leaned. One leg, then the other. And WHOOSH! I made it. Slid down, skirt up, but as I was told by my friends, I looked like Mary Poppins.

And really, what more could I hope for. And to top it off, we were then treated to homemade cookies in their kitchen.

My Week at a Glance!

Hello Lads and Lassies...it has been a loooong time indeed! But if you take a look at what I've been up to, you'll see why I have not had time to write, it really was not even up to me:

First, I fell 94 feet. Yea, BIG fall, but don't be too concerned, it was on Jurassic Park-the Ride at Universal Studios. I was there with my nephew and step-dad, Howie. Now, I had been hassling Howard alll week that he better go on this ride with me, otherwise this trip would all be for nothing. And he wouldn't hear of it. I was telling the man who's about to walk from one side of England to another in two weeks that he has no sense of adventure--some would say it was on the brink of obnoxious. Not I! "What are you chicken?!"...in so many words or less, and then he agreed to go! The ride is extremely tame, basically like Disneyland's Jungle Cruise, but you're periodically getting squirted with water. But at the end when the boat started to ascend at nearly a 90 degree angle, I started to panic, my heart racing a mile a minute, and think to myself "What the hell was I thinking? Since when can I handle rides like this?!" Meanwhile Mr. 70 Yr Old Doesn't Like Roller Coasters treats the whole thing like cool beans, while I scream my head off like someone had a knife to my throat. He was just worried his sunglasses were gonna come off.

Second, in an unfortunate event not to far from "Et tu, brute," I went out Saturday night with Carrie and Liana in an effort to get my mind off things. We went to a billiards place called Q's, but in my naivete, I thought it was spelled the way it should be- CUES...clearly I'm just not hip to the savvy ways of nightclub/bar spellings. One of the things I must admit that I hate about going out is it requires me to show my ID. When I was 15 I must say,not so attractive--seriously though, how many of us were? I was the awkward, gangly, frizzy haired, unplucked eyebrows, bigger nosed girl. So every time I hand over my ID to some cute bouncer, they look me up and down, and and raise their own eyebrow, and wonder if possibly that girl lived within me. "SAME girl buddy, let's keep it movin!" Now it's one thing to get yourself to the bar, it's a whole other ballgame meeting the guys at the bar. Carrie and I went for a lap around the joint, flippin' our hair, flashin' our smiles--maybe next time we'll have to woo the fellows with our skills at the Q tables.

Third, if you must know, I managed to sustain two injuries. I hurt my armpit while dancing to Nelly Furtado. I know, you must be thinking, "What in the world does this girl do when she dances?" Well I hadn't exercised in awhile, so my dancing was quite aerobic. More in the Jane Fonda workout genre. There was kicking, jumping, punching in the air--therein lies the injury. For at least a day it hurt to pick up my computer, certainly to type this sentence....owww. Injury numero due was sustained after a day at the beach. Need I say more? No, my horrible fear of being eaten by a shark was not confirmed. Rather, it would seem after 22 years, I still don't comprehend that my fair skin doesn't bode well under the sun's brilliant rays, certainly not for four hours. Suffice to say, my stomach and back turned the shade of a cooked lobster-colorful, no?

So you see my dear readers it was not up to me to leave you for this long. It was out of my hands and in the hands of...well.. in the hands of a force bigger than me. I will do my very best not to leave you again like this, but you never know what rollercoaster, or catchy Nelly Furtado song lies ahead. Forgive me. And on that note, I bid you, adieu.

Italia Vince la Quarta Coppa del Mondo!!!

Congratulazioni Italia!!! First I would like to preface that I don't consider myself athletic. Really, at all. Dabbled in cross country in high school- but by no means was I the star athlete. Now, I haven't been following this whole World Cup shebang, but I caught a glimpse of the France-Portugal game and I was hooked. Thoroughly impressed by the athletic prowress of these men who can run for 90 mins across a ridiculously sized field, kicking this ball (sometimes even with their head, and then just shaking it off!). If I ever went head to head with any one of these men, it really would be a sight to see. They'd walk away with their heads bowed down in shame, no doubt--as I said I'm a quality athlete. But seriously, this game is really quite thrilling to watch when there's so much at stake. To say that I was excited to watch this final game is an understatement I can't even begin to express. Having spent 5 months studying in Rome last year, you can guess who I was rooting for. I went to the game with two of my closest friends, Carrie and Liana, and brought them as much Italian regalia as I could, so when we went to a sports bar this morning we could go fully prepared!

As I threw on my favorite "Ciao, Roma" shirt, I had a good feeling in my veins. Liana was wearing my Jonathan's Angels Roma muscle tank, a complimentary gift from one of those unforgettable nights, which has the words "Dormo con chi mi pare" written on the back. Italian words which read as music to many a men who can understand these I'm sure. We were ready to go. And so was ITALIA! But Yankee Doodles had standing room only...the f*ckers. So we ended up watching the game at sophisticated Broadway Deli. Not the ideal place to watch a game where you want a rowdy crowd, but by the second half the place was packed, and we had found a man to sell us Italian flags, so we were happy as clams. But really that game was wild, it got intense!! What was Zidane thinking with that headbutt?!! Like seriously, has he lost it? And that greaaaaaat save by the Italian goalie!!! But how it got down to those penalty kicks!!! And that Frenchman who just totally missed one! AMAAAZING!!

BUT REALLLLY THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING that came out of this was the intoxicating celebration afterwards. Oh yes, it is the only way the Italians do it; and though not one of the three (Carrie, Liana, or I) have Italian blood in us, we paraded like we did! We proceeded to drive through most of West Los Angeles (ie through Montana, San Vincente, Wilshire through Beverely Hills) with our flags hanging out the sunroof waving wildly. Honking the horn, and screaming our heads off like a bunch of hooligans --well it was only fitting seeing as the reaction we got from all the good looking Italian men, guys, whatever who also supported the team, could you really blame us? For the 45 minutes that we were driving around the city we had people from every race, gender, and age cheering, honking, giving the peace sign, or a fist in thrilled defiance--it was truly a sight to see, and quite exhilarating. If only every day was World Cup Day...and if only every day our team won. :)

When I Grow Up...

So Happy Belated Independence Day...even though little about this country feels independent or like freedom ringing, but I shall not preach about that. I welcome you to let your voice be heard, but in fact I'm gonna veer this into a different direction. Parenting.

Yesterday I was walking on the beach with three of my closest friends in "celebration" of the 4th, from Venice Beach to Marina del Rey (not a shabby walk, let me tell you!); having a deep philosophical walk about where we are in our lives, when we were so rudely interrupted when an obnoxious child threw wet sand at us. No, we weren't seriously harmed in this incident; no one even got sand in their eye. But where was this child's parents to give him a little scolding? I'm not saying a spanking, but seriously, get a hold on your child. I can appreciate an adorable child. Please, make no mistake about it. I was oooing and aahhing at all the children who weren't throwing sand at me, because their parents know how to discipline them and keep a watchful eye on them. It is this kind of parenting I appreciate and intend to take on, one day far in the future. Sure, easier said then done. But no baby of mine is gonna be throwing wet sand at strangers. You can be damn sure of that. That's just not acceptable. It's all about discipline. All his beach toys would be ripped out of his hands! Teach him a lesson. Too harsh? I'm a tough cookie, I learned from the best...but I'd probably get him a frozen lemonade on our way home.





VS





which child would
you prefer to parent? If it's a tough decision, don't bear kids.

ANNNND ACTION!

As I pour over a selection of possible careers on Craigslist and Monster.com (which I must say, I feel is a poorly constructed site), I must say there's that nagging in me that always goes to square one. What's square one? Square one is Hollywood--not the trashy Hollywood as we know it now, but dig deep to great classy Hollywood where meaningful films are made by intelligent people; and Broadway. So square one is "Hollyway". That is my dream career. The only problem is whenever my mom tests my ability to hold a straight face in front of her by miming a camera a la charades I burst into the giggles within mere moments. Giggling fits do not an Oscar and Tony make. But I sense their is a triple threat talent within me that is untapped and it's just a matter of Speilberg or Coppola tapping into, not Mrs. Temkin (I mean that with no disrespect and out of love Mummsy, it's just hard NOT to laugh when you put your hand up to eye and start winding up the other hand).

The point is I have spent maaany a nights rehearsing, if you will, for a Broadway musical. Take your pick- Oklahoma, Chicago, Wicked, Pippin, I know all the songs, all the words, all the parts; so I am ready if at any point someone should get sick to slip in and take charge...and become a star. But seriously, my feeling is why not make use of all the time I spent prancing about my room, blood, sweat and tears, memorizing those lyrics and choreography and cast me in a Broadway role? I may not have gone to "dance school" or have much "experience", except my glorious moment as Annie in 7th grade, and then the 5th Indian in 8th grade in Peter Pan (don't even go there), and then I was rejected from Rocky Horror Picture Show Freshman year in college probably because I was too square--and yes, that pun was entirely intended. But by God, I bet if I was on stage in front of Stephen Sondheim auditioning or if Speilberg yelled action I would not giggle cause I would be just too damn frightened!

Make New Friends, But Keep The Old?

To those of you who I've called my best friend at different times in my life, I don't know what to tell you other than there's a new friend in town, and she goes by the name of Eva Marie Saint. Oh! Have you heard of her? Yea, she won an Oscar back in 1954 for her role as Edie Doyle opposite Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront. And she hung from Mt. Everest grasping for Cary Grant's hand in North by Northwest.

True, I have never won an Oscar playing opposite Brando, or hung from Mt. Everest grasping for Grant, so you might wonder what do I have in common with Eva--and yes, I'm on a first name basis. Well, as it turns out, we both have a taste for choral music on a Sunday afternoon. Or rather her daughter -my mom's business partner- sang in this said choir, and we were the happy and supporting audience as they sang Mozart, etc. As our two parties met during intermission, my unusual name and recent graduation immediately made for interesting and lively banter. And thus a golden friendship was born. She was so warm, and not movie-star-ish, telling me I had to travel to Australia and Africa--as this is the time to be enjoying myself.

At the reception after the performance, she asked me what I thought about the film Cars. So I gave her my two cents, telling her it was my least favorite of the Pixar films because it's not very interesting to watch automobiles trying to emote sentiments for two hours. To which she responded, "Oh, that's a really interesting observation...ya know it's too bad, because Paul Newman, who I know personally, is such a great actor!" So, realizing I may have stuck my foot in my mouth, I sorta backtracked and restated; "it has nothing to do with the obviously amazing cast, it was just the concept that was the issue." Phew! But Eva gets me. Then as we hugged goodbye, she and her lovely director husband of 55 years (how fabulous is that?!) wished me good luck, and she said to me, "I've got a good feeling about you Chloe, you just send out vibes." As a film enthusiast, I can't really complain about that Sunday, except for maybe if it was Hitchcock or Cary Grant themselves, but they're both dead, so that would have made the story just plain creepy.

'Breakin Up' is Hard to Do!

Kudos to the Carpenters to writing those moving lyrics, but bigger kudos to the crafty minds behind the more recent film of the similar name (The Break Up, for you slow folk). Crafty indeed the little bastards. As I have recently discovered, this charming and funny film(which I thoroughly enjoyed) has actually had various interpretations. And by various I really mean two. But in discussing this film with my peers I've come to think the ending was intended to be ambiguous, and that my degree in film was worthless if I can't even breakdown a romantic comedy between Jen Aniston and Vince Vaughn. I mean surely a BA in Film in Digital Media should teach you how to a least recognize an ambiguous ending.

I left the theater SURE of how the film ended, only to be shocked later to find out that people had left thinking it had ended in an entirely different way, which naturally left me second-guessing myself. Why has this film caused such a divide? I ask you, does it depend on the person? Who you're with? The mood you're in? Or plain and simple smart vs. not so smart? And I'm not claiming to be one or the other, because to this day, I'm not sure what the filmmakers were going for, but I'm just so curious as the fabulous divide that this film has created. And arguments can be made for either side. Alright, now I can only talk about this ending for so long without actually saying what it is..

SPOILER ALERT AHEAD...IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE ENDING, STOP READING. So the divide is those who believe that Jen and Vince are getting back together after they run into eachother on the street after their break up (my kind of people). Evidence includes crazy chemistry, making plans for coffee, Vince winking at her after they walk away. (I'm sorry, does that couple look like they're headin' to Splitsville?)

And on the other side of the ring are those who believe they are not getting back together and that the film was going for an independent kind of end in a Hollywood film. Ya know, where although they loved eachother, they're not meant to be with eachother, they've moved on and it's a coffee date they're never gonna do a la Carrie and Aiden 6th Season. So what I've decided what I must do is see not only see it again and really watch it more closely, but also take a poll of everyone leaving the theater. Thank you.