Someday, someday. I’m constantly telling myself that, yes, I will have a big, droopy-eyed, long-eared, 1 part chubby & three millions times sweet badass basset hound someday. I can’t help it! I grew up with these adorable thangs. Seeing Sadie, (Aka, Sadiepants) my parents’ aging basset, a few times a year is.just.not.enough! I want my own basset to shower with love and to spoil rotten. It would have to be a girl. I would love to adopt her, (as I did with kitty Bette Boop) and I would love to take her for walks, pet her & talk to her in my doggy voice, and I would love for her name to be Mona. She’d also be BFF’s with Bette Boop.

I’ll pour my heart out more tomorrow about this subject. Oh, and because I’m in the mood to speak in French (en francais)…. AU REVOIR!

Omigod, I have a serious problem. I think I must have watched each episode from the season at least twice. Yeah, see? Serious addict. Remember when I was all, “Ramona rocks. I wish I had her personality and gumption?!?!?” Well, after watching and re-watching the “Real Housewives of New York City Reunion,” I came to the conclusion that Ramona may in fact be on drugs.

What helped me the most in reaching this conclusion is when host/big shot Bravo exec Andy Cohen read a question from a viewer at home. Something along the lines of “Ramona, your eyes always look crazy & you act like a maniac! Are you on something?” In true Ramona fashion, she retorted something along these lines, “No, I’ve always just had high energy levels. I’m high on life,” and yadda yadda yadda. She couldn’t keep still in her chair, there was constant twitching, and her wide bug eyes looked like they were on the verge of popping out. Wait… wait. I had to take two steps back, two New York City steps back, that is, thank you very much. Had I been admiring the crazy antics of a drug addict? Ohhh nooo! Not good Korlina, not good!

As I watched the rest of the episode (twice! what?) I tried very hard to hate (strongly dislike) Ramona, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t deny that I still thoroughly enjoyed her spunk and ability to throw in an unhealthy dose of shock value. I hope her hyper, take no shit, say whatever is on her mind personality isn’t a result of drugs. If she is or isn’t on drugs, perhaps we viewers will never know. Either way, it’s official. I’m hooked on the show & season II needs to get here! Soon!

This weekend J and I went to the Grove. We saw “Forbidden Kingdom,” at the theaters there. I was pleasantly surprised. I highly recommend this movie not only for the kickass fight scenes, but also for the storyline. I left the theater in tears, but the good kind.

On Sunday morning J and I played racket ball. Yeah, I knew you guys wanted to hear all about my weekend! I knew you wanted every last detail. Yeah right! All I will say about the racket ball is that I am improving immensely! J was proud. The first round I came close to beating him. However, I lost all three rounds just the same. I swear that my backhand is truly coming around though!

I was out sick yesterday. Typically, on days you go into work after being sick as a dog the day before, you have trouble catching up on everything you’ve missed. Not Korlina! I’m all caught up at 3:23pm. Wahoo, that means time for the blog!

Things That Will Never Come Outta My Mouth…

1. Traffic isn’t all that bad. I can always deal with it very very very well!

2. No margarita for me. I’ll pass!

3. I loooove eggs! Yummy!

4. I don’t feel like going to Vegas. It’s boring there.

5. Go Yankees!

6. Go Lakers!

7. Go Giants!

8. I never want to have any more pets.

9. Freelance is the way to go!

10. I’m so friggin’ pissed that Bravo decided to pick up another season of “The Real Housewives of New York City!”

11. I can help you figure it out. I rock at math!

12. I don’t miss my family… ever!

13. My sis and I are like BFF’s.

14. I’m not ready for a vacation.

15. Yeah, we should get Indian food tonight!

16. Brooke White should definitely win American Idol.

17. I really miss having Miss M for a boss. She was my favorite favorite boss & so much fun to be around to boot!

18. I hate reading.

19. I’m not a fan of having mani/pedis.

20. My crafts service guy is da bomb!

Alas, I am sick today, so I didn’t exactly have a good morning. Since I’m sick & home from work today with a restless mind that isn’t allowing me to sleep, I decided to write a post about yesterday morning. What a morning it was!

I woke up in a slightly hung-over state. This called for a bagel before work, smothered with a lot of cream cheese. I swear to God, if it wasn’t for cheese, I’d be screwed. It has the magical power of healing hung-over Korlina.

I flew out the door, promising J a blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese. Once in the Corolla, as I put the key in the ignition and mentally debated over going to Manhattan Bagel or Western Bagel, a folded paper on my dashboard caught my eye.

GREAT! I thought to myself after reading the girly-written note. Amy, an apt. neighbor I barely know who happens to park in the spot next to me, hit my car the night before. There’s a dent. Oh fuck. Just another thing to have to deal with later. I’m not as annoyed as I could be because, really, she left a note. Not everyone does that. I had to admire her courtesy in a world gone awry. Still though, not a fine way to start a Tuesday morning when you’re hung-over as is. Blah.

I decided on Western Bagel. It’s closer, and I didn’t want to be late for work. I went up to the counter to order. I half noticed in my blurry state, an older woman staring at me. I collected my change & was about to go over to the side counter to wait for my bagels WHEN…

“Excuse me,” it was the older lady. I half expected her to ask me about the bagel I ordered, (sprouted wheat. it was actually tasty!) but instead I got, “Will you marry my son???”

“Excuse me?” I wasn’t exactly sure if I had heard her right. She repeated herself. Yup, she had asked me the question. I looked at her quizzically & she replied, “Why, you’re just so beautiful. Honestly, will you marry my son?”

One of the guys behind the counter, slicing into a bagel, smiled. I blushed. She had kinda caused a scene. I told her “thank you.” I have to say, it was VERY flattering. When she pressed a third or fourth time, I informed her I have a boyfriend, but that I was sure her son was lovely. How funny!

I left the store beaming. I couldn’t help it. I love compliments, no matter how uncomfortable they make me, and no matter how weird they may be. I don’t think I’m overly attractive. Attractive, yes. That is, if I put some effort into it. Ya know? If I wear make-up, have my hair styled nice. However, I had my hair pulled into a messy bun, no make-up, and sweats yesterday morning. They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This woman thought I was gorgeous. Why, she even blurted out “drop dead” gorgeous.

I seem to get compliments about my looks from older people. When I was a PA, I’d grocery shop for my office every morning. I’d go to the same Ralph’s each & every day & always run into these two old geezers who shared their old geezer stories over coffee at the bakery counter. Sometimes, riding up on the elevator with them, my cart stuffed with bags, they’d tell me how beautiful I was. I’d smile and blush. We’d all laugh. It always brightened my mornings. Bad breakup? Well, the old men at Ralph’s think I’m hot, so screw that asshole for breaking up with me! Stressed out from a long week? The old men at Ralph’s helped me see the light at the end of the tunnel. New ugly dent in my gold Corolla? Older woman at Western bagel thinks I’m drop dead gorgeous. I don’t care if they’re old and aren’t Brad Pitt. It’s nice to get a compliment, no matter what kind, and no matter who gives you the compliment.

So… what’s the best and/or most random compliment you guys have ever received? I may be feeling sick today, but I’m also feeling vain. Yours doesn’t have to be re: your looks. Just any compliment that made your day.

The title of this post is rather fitting in describing last night. I had plans to meet up with a few of my girlfriends for a night of margaritas at a local joint, Mexicali. Mexicali isn’t the best restaurant in town for authentic Mexican food, but it’s gotta pretty chill scene, an array of pretty good 80’s music, pretty tasty fish tacos, and you don’t leave the place with your wallet screaming at you. Always a plus, always a pretty plus.

All the girls, myself included, started off with fairly standard, run of the mill margaritas. Shall we call them margs? I heart abbreviating, really. By the time I had finished downing my first marg, I was more than ready for my next. Yeah, hi, I’m Korlina and I finish my drinks really fast. Unfortunately, I’ve built up quite the tolerance as of late too.

Our server (don’t you love how PC I am?) came over to our table and, seeing my empty glass, asked if I’d like another. I hesitated for a sec, deciding whether or not I wanted to ask “Could I please have a ‘Skinny Girl Margarita?” but chose instead to ask for the drink in a way that states how it’s supposed to be made. I learned of this drink’s existence thanks to good ‘ole “The Real Housewives of NY.” Thanks Bethany! “Could I please have Silver Petron on the rocks with fresh lime juice, and a splash of Triple Sec?” See, I was trying to make things easier, I swear, BUT… I couldn’t have stumped Mexicali Server more.

“Umm, well, I dunno if the bartender could do that. Ummmmmmm, he can probably make it with sweet and sour mix though.” Umm, well, I was disappointed to hear this disturbing news, but I couldn’t think fast enough to argue with him (just as I couldn’t think fast enough to defend myself and my right to lunch yesterday to Badass Crafty).

“Ah, okay, that’s fine,” I retorted weakly. All my girlfriends were staring at me, visibly amused over this whole thing. “Is it just me, or was I asking for something very hard to understand?” Naturally, my friend Anne came up with the perfect response! “Korlina, of course he didn’t understand you. That’s why he’s a waitor at Mexicali!” Duh, I knew that. However, I still needed a friendly reminder from my girlfriend.

When the drink came back, I liked it. A little sweet, but fine. The sweet and sour mix didn’t make it a “skinny drink,” but what the hell? I didn’t care anymore. Who really cares if all their friends are dieting and debating how much of their food they should put in their mouths while you’re in the fast process of wolfing down your heaping portion of fish tacos? The nonskinny drink just added one more “who cares” to the evening.

We all left in happier spirits (merci beaucoup margs). I, for one, was exhausted at the god awful late hour of 9pm. As I got into my lil gold Corolla, I couldn’t wait to be relaxing on the couch with J, as he played online poker.

Once back at my apt, J told me he had a surprise for me. It took me a while to discover the surprise, but he had cleaned my shower! It had been a long time since I (well J, actually) cleaned it last, so to say it needed it would be an understatement. J, always a man of unexpected sweet jestures had done this while not feeling well! And in the midst of an online poker tournie! Have I told you how much he rocks & how much I loooove him?!?!?

We took a walk down to the liquor store. He wanted to have a glass of red wine before bed. I promised myself not to drink any of the bottle, no matter what he chose to purchase. I had had enough alcohol for one night. At the store, J grabbed his wine, and I grabbed some flaky British candy bar. I may have promised myself no more alcohol, but flaky British candy? Paaaaleeeeaaase! My will power’s not that strong… this week. Ask me next week though. I’ll probably be eating the candy bar and drinking wine I don’t need. I’m good like that.

No, I’m not talking about the ‘ole back in the day MTV reality show. I’m talking about today, on stage, at work, in the crafts service area. On most days, my office orders lunch out with the writers. However, on certain days, my boss instructs the production team to go down to the stage & eat the crafts service lunch.

Now I’ve worked on numerous shows & every show has their own drill. Most shows I’ve been on in the past are used to the concept of sometimes production being able to eat on the stage, and, as such, the crafts service person is supposed to order more lunch for the days when production will be eating on stage. It’s all about the word inclusion. Try saying it to yourself a few times before you go to sleep tonight, Crafty on My Show. Oh, yeah, and did I not mention that said crafty has worked on another show that I worked on in the past (canceled, of course) and even the WRITERS ate on stage?!?!? He still hasn’t learned this pretty friggin’ 3rd grade level concept. Ahem!

So today I had to go down to stage after the production lot meeting. Side note: I used to kinda loathe these meetings, but now I heart them thanks to my winning streak at the trivia that starts off every meeting. But I digress… Once I’m done doing my thing on stage, (that “thing” being giving the stage PA vouchers for tomorrow) I saunter over to the crafts service area to check out the crappy food I’ve been ordered to eat on the stage today. Shall we pause this clip for a second? I.am.not.even.eating.a.thing.I.am.glancing.over.everything.not.one.bit.impressed.with.the.presentation.of.shit WHEN…

Camera dude that I don’t even know the name of begins dissing me. “You guys from production and the writers office always take all of our food on stage,” WAH WAH WAH! “You guys have to stop taking all of our food!” WAH WAH WAH. He says this very loudly, in front of a group of people. All eyes turn to me, Fatty Korlina (or at least that IS how it made me feel at the time). I turn bright red, beyond embarrassed. If Ramona had been in my shoes during this awkward “scene” she would have laughed at everyone and demanded, “Got a problem?!?!?” Korlina stutters, “Well, I…I…I… never eat on stage and was told to do so today.”

Crafty got all “Ohhh, do you have a sunburn, Honey?” I reply, “No, you guys have just really embarrassed me. I haven’t even taken any food.” Then crafty mock-yells at camera dude for making me feel bad. He demands that I take the food since everyone else has eaten. I feel like spitting out the words, “Fuck you for not sticking up for me! Fuck you for making me feel 100 times more awkward now! Fuck you for not remembering the million and one times I went out of my way for something for you on this show, and now you’re helping to make me feel like shit! Fuck you for acting like I should only be able to eat once everyone else has. Fuck you for being just another person who uses me as the easy target that I am!” Instead, I grabbed tongs, placed 2 watermelons in a paper bowl, and got outta there.

I immediately tossed the lousy watermelons into a trash barrell outside of stage.

For reasons I cannot fully articulate, this whole incident made me feel (at the time) more lousy than I know I should have let it make me feel. I pass a writer going down the hall on my way back to my office. He says hi in a genuinely nice way. I say my hellos as well. Afterwards, I want to cry. I have to go into my boss’s empty office to get a hold of myself, to stop the nascent onflow of tears.

Luckily, I snap out of my craziness pretty fast. I just needed a moment. I know that. I know I can pick up from where I left off in my day if only I take a few deep breaths and find a space where I can temporarily be alone in my thoughts. I only wish, at times (too many times in my life) that the awkwardness that’s a part of me would go away and never return. If it simply can’t & I’m stuck with it the way one is stuck with their freckles, then I wish I could get a grip. Once again, I wish I could handle situations like Ramona, only with more class.

On Saturday morning I caught up on all of the episodes of this reality series gem. Thank you, Bravo, for your weekend marathons! What would I ever do without you? Oh, and I can’t wait for the series finale this evening, although I can’t believe it’s already the freakin’ series finale. Sigh.

Why do I love this superficial program full a caddy women who somehow were blessed with more money than they know what to do with? Well, I enjoy watching their so-called everyday drama unfold on camera. It happens quite organically. Shocking, I know! I’m unsure as to how scripted this reality series is, (i hear through the grapevine it’s more of them being thrown into a situation & then they all go from there) but if it is heavily scripted, I’ve gotta tell ya these women are some kickass actresses. I believe them entirely! Hey, I went to college with these types of women, after all!

What I enjoy the most about them, even more so than their every day drama, is their candidness. Fact about me- I rarely say what’s on my mind in the moment. I either a. wait for someone else to let cats out of bags or b. tell myself silently “WHAT A BITCH!” or the classic “WAIT??? DID THAT REALLY JUST HAPPEN FOR REALZ? OMIGOD!” Fact about these “housewives”: they.are.not.like.me.at.all. When a situation presents itself (and it always does) it’s like a competition of who can speak their mind the fastest. I, love it. I love it because most days of my life I wish I could act as bravely as these ladies who lunch act.

Case in point, Ramona. Omigod, Ramona, if you had been my mom I would have loved every second of it! You’re so fun! You’re always laughing! You take your daughter, along with all her girlfriends, to get their hair and make-up done for the school dance! You bust out dance moves while all the girly girls get their hair dried! You go right up to the young pretty thang flirting with your hubby at the big paaaty in the Hamptons and accost her without missing a beat, “Are you hitting on my husband!” You then cause a huge scene when said young pretty thang informs you that said hubby isn’t wearing his wedding ring! You dash over to your pal Jill, (also quite the “what you see is what you get” attitude) and demand to look at her hubby, Bobby’s, ring finger. Alas, Bobby lacks his wedding ring at this lovely Hamptons soiree as well! You act all cute and silly about the whole fiasco. Everyone crowds around you, laughing with you and at you & it’s quite the party because of your presence.

See? This is why I looove Ramona. If a similar situation played out in my own life, people would have probably called it a night and left the soiree in a huff. A horde of people wouldn’t have gathered around me, holding their bellies from all the laughter. This would have happened to me in the Hamptons…

Korlina leaves bf for a moment to fetch herself a drink from inside the tent. She orders a Long Island iced tea. When in Rome, When in Rome. Outside the tent, she can make out her bf, under the white-lit tree, chatting and laughing with a younger more beautiful woman. She looks kinda like that girl from “Transformers,” only hotter. The temper tantrum is underway.

Korlina darts past men and women carrying pigs in blankets on platters. She nearly knocks one over, she’s moving so fast and angrily (a person, not a “pig”). She finally reaches bf and young pretty thang. Bf is a deer in headlights. Unlike Ramona’s husband, who’s still all chuckles and “Hey Honey” when Ramona accosts him, bf is fearing for his life.

Korlina says hello to the girl that he’s talking/flirting with. She thinks in her head, what a slut. Such heavy make-up! Nice fake boobs, Honey Bunches of Oats!!! Korlina’s “hello” is flat, but syrupy sweet at the same time. Bf knows that that means trouble. He says bye to girl, and walks over next to Korlina, tail between his legs. He tries to hold her hand, but Korlina, stubborn devil, shoves her hand away. He asks if she wants to leave. She says that SHE will leave, but he can stay & drink Long Islands under the moonlight with Slutty McSlutterson. No flies on her back! He tries to reason with her, but she’s immature, insecure, and hurt. The Long Island hasn’t helped her rational thinking either. Korlina begins to run away from him, the tears streaming down her face now. He catches up to her, grabs her wrist, and they both fall into one of the tents, knocking it down. Yeah, like a said, party is over. No fun spunky blonde woman named Ramona around to make an awkward situation laugh-worthy.

Tonight, curled up on the couch, sipping my wine, and ignoring J’s comments about this gem of a show, I think that maybe I should take notes! Why? Because I don’t wanna be that jealous girl anymore who doesn’t have a backbone. I wanna speak up when someone is flirting with my man & then laugh about it moments later with my friends. I wanna say what no one else is brave enough to say when a husband dares to show up for girls’ night out. I wanna dance in front of my daughter’s friends (if I ever have a daughter) & not feel embarrassed. Basically, I wanna come out of my shell and be more confident. Perhaps PERHAPS this show will help me. I know that’s a stretch, but hey… I can dream!

J and I went to our favorite Mexican restaurant last night. It never gets old there & that’s why we love it. We ordered our standard Cadillac Margaritas, (seriously, they’re the bomb) picked at each others’ entrees, and kissed between sips of the Caddy’s. The waitress even gave us an extra martini glass of limes last night. I guess this is the new form of VIP status at said Mexican restaurant. I dunno, but we appreciated them just the same.

A few moments before the bill arrived, the same flower dude that saunters in every night, sauntered in, arms over-stuffed with bouquets of voluptuous flowers. He approached our table, as per normal, but this time J stopped flower dude in his tracks. He bought me the most beautiful bouquet, the prettiest of the bunch. I blushed profusely as I admired the perfect arrangement.

“I was planning this for the longest time. I wanted to catch you off guard,” J admitted. I gave him a big kiss. He was right- he had caught me off guard and, I loved it.

When we got back to the apartment, I pulled out a vase. I began the task of cutting off the ends. The flowers looked just as splendid in their new vase home as they had looked all wrapped up. Once I had placed the vase on the kitchen table, I clapped my hands in excitement. Yippee!

Cut to Bette Boop moments later, as I started to settle on the couch with J and catch up on TiVo. She rubbed up against the flowers, sniffed them, acted like she was on cat Ecstasy, and bit into a rose. I gasped, sprang to my feet, took the vase off the table, and scolded my evil cat. Guess I hadn’t been thinking back to the time when my old roommate received birthday flowers & all the cats had a field day (or feast) with the bouquet. She had to put her bouquet in a closet because certain flowers can be poisonous to cats. Damn these cats sometimes!

J made the executive decision to leave the flowers in his bathroom, with the door shut. Bette stared at us for the rest of the night, wondering where her flowers had disappeared.

For Valentine’s Day this year, J gave me a giant scratching pad for Bette Boop because she no longer had one after my roommate moved out with her 2 cats. It was an expensive present, but we both admit it was well worth it because Bette LOVES it. There are little plush balls attached to it via strings, so it gives Bette hours of playtime. In other words, Bette gets treated very well. J tells me all the time that she is spoiled & I always silently agree with him. 

Dear Bette, I love you so, and you’re a very adorable cat, but why do you have to take my first flowers away from me??? Isn’t your extensive collection of toys enough? Isn’t your scratching pad better than my flowers? WHY, BETTE? WHHHHYYYYYY?

Already! I can’t believe it! It feels like I just got back here after being out of work for over 2 months (why thank you, strikey strike!). My boss told me yesterday that I’d be getting two weeks of wrap. That’s fine, really. It’s more than I thought I’d get. After all, all I do during wrap is sit on my ass and twiddle my thumbs and, sometimes the producer will take us out for lunch. We all (or more like just moi) get tipsy and it’s great. I don’t mind wrap! I don’t mind getting paid to be lazy.

Fast-forward to once wrap is over and done with in early June. I’ll be outta work for about a month (that’s dependent upon whether or not my show gets picked up) & bored to pieces while all my pals all work. I’m the only crazy girl who works freelance.

Here’s a day in the life of Korlina during hiatus. If you’ve ever seen the movie “About a Boy” (you know, the one with a very disheveled Hugh Grant) you’ll comprehend what my days are like.

8am-8:30am: Get up, make coffee, eat breakfast, watch “Regis & Kelly,” and play with Bette Boop.

10am: Play around on the Internet (AKA, waste a lot of time).

11:30am: Drive to gym.

12pm: Work my ass off at the gym. Stare enviously at all the size 0 platinum blondes with the biggest boobs ever who are probably wanna-be actresses. Get over it quickly when I hear them talk on their cell phones in the dressing rooms. Besides, their boobs are fake anyway and, would probably pop like balloons if I were to stick a pin in them (not that I would. I’m only a ‘lil crazy).

1:30pm: Back at my apt, I play with Bette Boop some more, check my emails (or lack thereof because the emails definitely take it down a notch when I’m not working), eat me some veggie burger, and take a long shower.

3pm: Read a novel. Typically, destination= Peet’s Coffee. It’s the ideal spot for quiet reading, people- watching, deliciously strong coffee, and relaxation. The classical music they play triggers me to unwind right as I step in to the shop.

5pm: Back at the apt, (or what J likes to call “The Pad”) I munch on a snack, catch up on TiVo, and once more, check my poor excuse for emails. If I’m bored with TiVo, I’ll stroll down to the public library at the end of my street. If the library sucks, I’ll walk back, get in my Corolla & cruise over to either Trader Joe’s or the mall. I’ll spend an insane amount of money on stuff I really don’t need. An insane amt of money I don’t even have.

7pm: J is home… WAHOO! Time to drink! OR Time to go out for dinner!

This day (or something that resembles it very closely) replays over and over again when I’m on hiatus. Ah well, at least I’ll be getting more gym time in!

I’ve been MIA lately for various reasons. Stress, you ask? Yes, there’s been that. Fear of having to censor myself? Yup yup, that too. Mainly though, this blog isn’t anonymous & I realized I’d be enjoying it more if it were completely anonymous.

So… I have a new anonymous blog some where out in the blogosphere. I don’t have many readers yet, but hopefully in due time.

I will continue to write on this Ksumy blog too, (I know ya’lls were on the edge of your seats!) but will devote a ‘lil less time to it. I can’t give it up completely after all! I love it when friends, my sis, and the bf read my blog.

Since I usually write about things that happen to me on a daily basis on this blog, I’ll continue in the tradition & share with you my morning. HINT HINT: I’M VERY PROUD!

Okay, give up? Fine, I went to the gym! Yeah, really! Nope nope, it’s wasn’t that hard. My pal C Money, who recently began gyming it pre-work, told me that getting the hell outta bed would be the toughest part. Lemme tell ya’lls, it sure was! Once at the gym, there were difficult moments on the treadmill at times, (next time I know to drink more water before I start my a.m. iron-pump session) but I am Korlina and, naturally, didn’t let them conquer. I turned up “Born To Make You Happy” on my Ipod (yup Britney, but i heart the beat) and kept at it.

When I left the gym, towel around my neck, face all red and in need of oxygen, I felt good. I felt proud of myself and my ass. Now if only I can tempt my ass there tomorrow morning. I’ll keep you updated, you lucky ducks!