Category: Dan

  • three random pictures

    It’s been a busy-ass couple of weeks, so indulge me this blog post of three totally unrelated visual images. First: Since I have to admit to myself that it will be a bit more time before I move into my house in the Valley with my husband and our adopted Sri Lankan tsunami refugee baby,…

  • gossip = true

    Word for word, people, that’s how it happened. Trust me.

  • go outside

    I hadn’t. In two days. Which is what just made a co-worker and I feel the sudden and compulsive need to run relays back and forth down a long, deserted hallway. Oxygen? Rocks. She was hella fast. I kicked her ass on the sprints anyway.

  • my mom and my stepdad saw Shopgirl

    The following conversation might have occurred because, after four years of bicoastal living, I finally ran out of excuses not to get California license plates. So after two hours at the DMV and only one incorrect answer on my written test (if I’d gotten a perfect score, I was going to ask for a copy),…

  • the day the music died

    I promised myself I wouldn’t keep bitching about the basement. But honestly. Here’s the thing. I have one week left in my hiatus, a break that represented the first days I’ve had off in the history of my checkered past in LA. Ever. Well, I had five days off last year, but I spent them…

  • and now, here it is, your moment of zen

    Actually just on CNN: “And, when we come back, would you believe it…an old-age home for chimps!?!” I believe this is one of those few instances during which the old “exclamation-point-question-mark-exclamation-point” punctuation is absolutely appropriate.

  • Freaky Friday

    Rove still has a job (FOR NOW), Mr. Sulu is gay, and New York smells like maple syrup. Someone explain to me what is going on. And there’s about to be a “Hurricane Beta.” The world is ending.

  • The Journal of Truth and Greatness

    So, sometimes you want to order a pizza. And sometimes you’re slightly tired and delirious and you’ve had a couple of beers without getting to eat any of THAT PIZZA THAT HASN’T SHOWN UP YET. And you call Pizza Hut (sorry, all of my friends in New York) because you’re in L.A. and it’s late…

  • observe THIS, griffith park observatory

    As Darren so wisely put it: “This looks like a picture that would be taken right after your mom says, ‘Honey, go stand next to your brother. This will be so cute.’” Even the Hollywood sign is like, “Dude, I’m running away from them.”

  • mom’s basement

    My mom overreacts. I don’t begrudge it and I don’t judge it and I’m certainly used to it, because mom has always been a wonderfully neurotic Jew from Long Island who thinks the sky is falling or her plane is crashing or everyone has cancer. It’s fine. It’s culturally-appropriate. It’s an early Woody Allen movie.…