tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19328012024-02-01T21:39:37.740-08:00A Generous PourMy life as a part-time bartender, full-time tv writer, and some other crap thrown in for good measure.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-32331593983363365042008-09-17T21:58:00.001-07:002008-09-17T22:06:03.964-07:00SamanthaI know this blog has turned into a brag book about my nieces and nephews, but seriously how gorgeous is this kid?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxg60w6dWQEphczl8oluuXLhNY53oX1EcW_IG3WD5v4lsut2cBM3RVRWK6bPqeznzFKN3ge7GiSMJydmrVt3MeRFgw7v5U9hpeeuuSYF-P1bZpXfhRgjIngsQ6dyYR6-Lpomg/s1600-h/n1309209972_84530_6515.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxg60w6dWQEphczl8oluuXLhNY53oX1EcW_IG3WD5v4lsut2cBM3RVRWK6bPqeznzFKN3ge7GiSMJydmrVt3MeRFgw7v5U9hpeeuuSYF-P1bZpXfhRgjIngsQ6dyYR6-Lpomg/s320/n1309209972_84530_6515.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247221822315929474" border="0" /></a><br />That is Samantha; Larry and Michele's little girl. I don't know her as well as I probably should, but I hear she is wicked precocious. She kind of looks like she knows it, too. I hope that confidence sticks with her throughout her teens (which is years away). But it's a time in a girl's life when you have to hold onto your self esteem with a vice-like grip. Oh, and in your late 30's, too.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-36791362494397540612008-09-06T14:14:00.000-07:002008-09-06T14:25:33.790-07:00It's Been Way Too Long...Since my last post. I've never worked this hard in my life. <a href="http://www.cbs.com/primetime/project_gary/">Gary Unmarried</a> is the (new) name of the show I'm working on. It premieres on Wednesday, September 24th at 8:30pm. Please watch it so I know these 70+ hour work weeks are not for nothing.<br /><br />In the meantime, everyone else has been enjoying the last days of summer; no one less than my brother, Chris, and his family. Here is a shot from his summer vacation on Squam Lake. It's pictures like these that make me think: Am I working to live or living to work. Seems like the latter. I wanna jump like a mad woman off a rock.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp94mUCCQHfo3eD4CtWNnXxbgZU54_nLc9qXKthhfHSjiskVK1IE30Qg2d7y6BzfU0EWbZzD55fhATL1HRuHTiqeAOdvuoPQ57xlfrHKw7MJJnc8jJz3c2viJaUS6wa-JVy8A/s1600-h/devin+and+dadda.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp94mUCCQHfo3eD4CtWNnXxbgZU54_nLc9qXKthhfHSjiskVK1IE30Qg2d7y6BzfU0EWbZzD55fhATL1HRuHTiqeAOdvuoPQ57xlfrHKw7MJJnc8jJz3c2viJaUS6wa-JVy8A/s320/devin+and+dadda.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243020912419948834" border="0" /></a><br />Oh, and that's my niece, Devin, with him. She's 11. Even in her crouched jumping position you can tell she's a tall girl. I called today to see what size show she take (her birthday is in a few days and I love buying her shoes) and apparently she's a women's 9! Wow! That's one size less than me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-51148754531855985132008-07-23T09:02:00.000-07:002008-07-23T09:08:06.636-07:00Paul's New Yorker PieceI know I haven't posted in a while and posting someone else's work shouldn't really count as a post but I wanted to make sure everyone reads Uncle Ball's new piece in The New Yorker because there are some jokes in here that made me laugh out loud. <br /><div id="articleheads"> <h4 class="rubric">Shouts & Murmurs</h4> <h1 id="articlehed">Stump Speech</h1> <h4 id="articleauthor"> <span class="c cs"> <span>by </span><a href="http://www.newyorker.com/search/query?query=authorName:%22Paul%20Simms%22">Paul Simms</a> </span> <span class="dd dds"> July 28, 2008 </span> </h4></div><div id="articletext"><p class="descender">Ladies and gentlemen, as I’ve campaigned across this great country of ours, one of my greatest pleasures has been meeting all the wonderful Americans whose voices are so rarely heard—and whose stories are so rarely told.</p><p>I’m thinking of the young woman I met in Texahoma, Texas: a single mother who has three full-time jobs—but no health insurance. Or the young man I met in Oklatexa, Oklahoma, who has tons and tons of health insurance—but no job. I’ll never forget the look in that young man’s eye when he said to me, “Also, I’m single, and I’d like to meet a woman who already has children and who preferably lives in an adjoining state.”</p><p>These are the moments when you realize that the current system has failed us, and that there’s absolutely nothing you can do to help.</p><p>I’m thinking of married couples like Jim and Sheila R., of Fort Injun, Wyoming. Jim has spent most of his fifty years laboring manually in a pebble mine. And Sheila—without any government aid—has started a foundation to enlighten Americans about the putative value of hand-mined pebbles. But despite a banner sales year, during which they sold almost six sacks of their artisanal-quality hand-mined pebbles, they still haven’t been able to scrape together enough money to buy a last name.</p><p>I’m talking about people like the wonderful Mexican gentleman I met in Hilltop Hollow, Arizona, who, when I told him of my great affection for the country of Mexico, looked me in the eye and said, “<i>Yo soy de Nicaragua</i>.” Which reminded me how I’ve always thought that one of the most beautiful languages in the whole world is Mexican.</p><p>Or the young man who walked up to me after a speech in Townville, South Dakota. He handed me a 1923 silver dollar and said, “This coin used to belong to my father. It was his prize possession. But I want you to have it now. And I want you to carry it with you on your travels from state to state.” And, as I was thanking him, this young man looked me right in the eye and said, “Actually, I stole it from my father five minutes ago. He’s standing right over there. No—don’t look, don’t look. Be cool. Maintain. Just put it in your pocket. I’ll be in touch.” And with that he walked away.</p><p>I’m talking about the young man—a boy, really; he couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve years old—whom I met in an online game of Halo, who said to me, “Headshot! Suck it! Pwned! Be less gay!,” after he had killed me by camping a respawn point, which really should be illegal.</p><p>I’m talking about the mother of five in Badhampton, New York, who told me, “Between getting the kids up at 5 <span class="smallcaps">A.M.</span> for gymnastics practice, then driving them to school, then taking the dogs to the vet, then picking up the kids after school and taking them to gymnastics meets, then feeding the dogs, then putting the kids to bed, then walking the dogs, then waking the kids and the dogs up for midnight gymnastics practice, I still worry that I’ll never realize my dream of assembling the world’s most awesome dogs-plus-humans gymnastics troupe.”</p><p>I’m talking about the middle-aged man from Monterey, California—a Mr. Sammy Hagar—who told me, “I can’t drive fifty-five.” To tell the truth, I never had the good fortune to meet Sammy face to face, but we did have a long and fruitful one-way conversation through my car stereo one night during a Classic Rock Block.</p><p>I’m thinking and talking about a man I met in New Carsmell, Vermont, before my campaign even began. He had inherited from his step-uncle, after much legal wrangling, the family diner. I remember as if it were yesterday asking this man for a ham-and-cheese sandwich. And he made me one. But, before he served it to me, he smooshed it down in this hot-presser thing that sort of looked like a copy machine. So, when it was done, the sandwich was like a flattened-out grilled cheese with ham, which the man claimed was an Italian delicacy. That thing was delicious. I can’t remember right now what it’s called, but more and more places are starting to serve them, so, if you ever get the chance to have one, definitely try it. I think it might have been called a “pannioli” or something. Something Italian-sounding.</p><p>But I digress.</p><p>What I’m really trying to talk about on this great occasion is women like your mother, whose decades-long struggle with morbid obesity has earned her much renown in the urban folklore of our great land. That’s right—your mother: a woman who is said to be so fat that, when she sat down on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday got bounced into the middle of next week. If I could, I would give her a medal, even though she would probably eat it, thinking there’s chocolate inside.</p><p>As I conclude my remarks here tonight, I can’t help but think of whichever one of you it was in the audience who sarcastically applauded when I said “As I conclude my remarks” a few seconds ago. It’s easier to tear down than to build up, Ma’am. And I call you “Ma’am” with the full knowledge that you’re probably actually a guy, because I just got you back.</p><p>You know, when I began this campaign, people said I was crazy. They said it couldn’t be done. They said that no one, in the entire history of American politics, had ever mounted and run and, God willing, won a national campaign to be elected King of Prussia. They said that King of Prussia is not really an elected office. They said that King of Prussia is just the funny name of a town in Pennsylvania. They said that when most people hear the phrase “King of Prussia” they think of the famous mall there, and not of the governmental position that apparently does not exist.</p><p>Well, maybe they’re right.</p><p>O.K., that’s the part where you’re all supposed to yell, “No!”</p><p>Nothing? No one?</p><p>Whatever. Fine. I’ll be in the food court if anyone wants to sign my petition or have a photo op or buy me a Burrito Supreme. <span class="dingbat">♦</span></p> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-36334951568628847352008-07-07T22:32:00.000-07:002008-07-07T22:39:48.245-07:00August GrimstadWhen you hear the name August <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Grimstad</span> you probably picture an old man in a Dickens novel who tortures kittens and orphans. Or perhaps a professor who droned on and on while you daydreamed about your unrequited high school love who went to a better college. Well, in a true case of a book not being judged by it's cover, will the real August <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Grimstad</span> please stand up:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMN98hk1Yh0ckPIp6gNUja8QJRb_JzVVrPesV95YjmEGAp4nM1Y9sVDr0Iv46NPn-Vovrq_yAr8SnfZImgNDb-knW4kWXgBpsdzO5yvuRbVCQUYGuxV9AKP4Ttew5OorKvGc/s1600-h/IMG_1103.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMN98hk1Yh0ckPIp6gNUja8QJRb_JzVVrPesV95YjmEGAp4nM1Y9sVDr0Iv46NPn-Vovrq_yAr8SnfZImgNDb-knW4kWXgBpsdzO5yvuRbVCQUYGuxV9AKP4Ttew5OorKvGc/s320/IMG_1103.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220512661639518178" border="0" /></a><br />GUS!! If that face doesn't scream Gus, I don't know what does. I can't wait 'til he's old enough to drink with. That little dude looks like a good time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-81821683852872907182008-07-05T17:30:00.000-07:002008-07-05T17:46:46.012-07:00My Third CareerNate and Ivy have been here for a little more than a week. When they arrived, Nate's hair was huge. One of my favorite things to do when the kids come to visit is to cut Nate's hair. I gave him my specialty -- the number two, then cleaned up his edges with my fancy new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Tweezerman</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">scissors</span>. They were very sharp so my lovely assistant, Ivy, held <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Nato's</span> ears down so they didn't end up on the floor with the rest of his hair.<br /><br />I didn't take a before picture but I did take an after:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46qco6njJ9XWzu1AupGSScKmIi9nvDCQh316zKqY4YgeFsEfQ27kBtzN-W0ahw7EHV8W82lcuyc7vWYIke9rD6OV0bNrZB3F6ydig8ZXu6tBf57i9tE-7JUgQ4X_t7o8qOgA/s1600-h/IMG_2222.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46qco6njJ9XWzu1AupGSScKmIi9nvDCQh316zKqY4YgeFsEfQ27kBtzN-W0ahw7EHV8W82lcuyc7vWYIke9rD6OV0bNrZB3F6ydig8ZXu6tBf57i9tE-7JUgQ4X_t7o8qOgA/s320/IMG_2222.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219694175505628050" border="0" /></a>Nate doesn't like this picture (he's holding the broom) but I think it shows my skills better than his choice:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SJSl0wLcRtShTNHOpFhozqxOalplLg55G5wDTwQwlYtj3ZZsJsu-bAvApQj46aIGF9c95NV7ngo7VkwMjMCkEd-j-YBmeCR9SxPn8_sn3JqSbScgeC_rb8qzO0W6Z8e-Cs8/s1600-h/IMG_2223.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SJSl0wLcRtShTNHOpFhozqxOalplLg55G5wDTwQwlYtj3ZZsJsu-bAvApQj46aIGF9c95NV7ngo7VkwMjMCkEd-j-YBmeCR9SxPn8_sn3JqSbScgeC_rb8qzO0W6Z8e-Cs8/s320/IMG_2223.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219694488083370994" border="0" /></a>Ginger thinks I did an awesome job.<br /><br />And one last picture of Nate's fallen soldiers which we later tried to glue to Sam's head.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRSrNq1psdpymA7Ttn4nfMjRS0pkcaCxxHzzG1b-jogeY7vkqb8drF2rZoJPjPOQ5g1w36JspljXS86hV6VNr3AIm_7ofGkcb1Vedqrs6QJ_WYlmMWvl4WhB-q-NxNfZdrdw/s1600-h/IMG_2221.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRSrNq1psdpymA7Ttn4nfMjRS0pkcaCxxHzzG1b-jogeY7vkqb8drF2rZoJPjPOQ5g1w36JspljXS86hV6VNr3AIm_7ofGkcb1Vedqrs6QJ_WYlmMWvl4WhB-q-NxNfZdrdw/s320/IMG_2221.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219695013864852194" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-9696320064908089452008-07-03T22:56:00.000-07:002008-07-03T23:00:17.227-07:00For RussThis is for my friend, Russ ,who moved to Portland last week and doesn't have TV yet. I wanted to post something he could watch 1000 times over until the cable man comes. Here you go, Russ. I hope you love your new life.<br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VghnM9LJ1R0&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VghnM9LJ1R0&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-92097289646513662892008-06-23T07:43:00.000-07:002008-06-23T07:45:31.986-07:00New JobI started my new job last week on Project Gary. (We're trying to figure out a better name for the show but I got nothing.) Life on a big network show is living. Now I know what all the fuss is about. <br /><br />More to come...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-44951521614614770972008-06-16T10:32:00.001-07:002008-06-16T10:36:09.351-07:00The Other Larry BeanWhen the link to the Herald article didn't work, Kerri googled Larry's name. She found the other Larry Bean. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d0AhwG0eD6VOYBf38Pnuh7C3HSVCEPlOlcwbZtkhwsY2rasBY4ex5lVldk7UEHAwd9y5RjsaXai7eQRKVsZSWwZXWnobU0dwnc1qYdQaaON2eLfo0midoo3o1PB3G5RV-fo/s1600-h/image003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d0AhwG0eD6VOYBf38Pnuh7C3HSVCEPlOlcwbZtkhwsY2rasBY4ex5lVldk7UEHAwd9y5RjsaXai7eQRKVsZSWwZXWnobU0dwnc1qYdQaaON2eLfo0midoo3o1PB3G5RV-fo/s320/image003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212533789869600914" border="0" /></a><br />If you're looking for "clean" entertainment, apparently, Larry's your man. Go to <a href="http://www.beanmagic.com/">Bean Magic</a> for more details.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-69406933411125323732008-06-15T11:52:00.000-07:002008-06-15T11:58:50.154-07:00Big News in BostonMy brother Larry made the Boston Herald! And look at this picture! WTF!! I thought I got the looks in the family. Apparently I'll have to settle for the brains.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEg9RXNHr-Y4VxKFxkFE7Wi2okUVWyRk9fxgDfKM2wTYt2UJ6d8kQiR3sReVnosZXni4N8dZ2l5nl4VQFriGpsUL6SrejMw55fLlFQOCT_bvKbTCe9XQ9jU4jDXKi32N5deV8/s1600-h/4105014d39_bean06132008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEg9RXNHr-Y4VxKFxkFE7Wi2okUVWyRk9fxgDfKM2wTYt2UJ6d8kQiR3sReVnosZXni4N8dZ2l5nl4VQFriGpsUL6SrejMw55fLlFQOCT_bvKbTCe9XQ9jU4jDXKi32N5deV8/s320/4105014d39_bean06132008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212183436677514626" border="0" /></a><br />Here's the article:<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Larry Bean knows luxury.<br /><br />So Boston Common magazine wasted no time in scooping up the former editor-in-chief of the Robb Report - the authority on the likes of the filthy rich.<br /><br />When the Robb Report relocated its editorial operations from Acton to Malibu, Calif., where its corporate offices are based, Bean could have followed but chose to stay in Boston.<br /><br />Boston Common Publisher Glen Kelley said it was an opportunity to pick up a “great player” and has hired Bean as his glossy magazine’s editor-at-large.<br /><br />“We’re able to bring in an editor that already understands luxury lifestyle magazines,” Kelley said yesterday. “That’s something that is very unique.”<br /><br />Bean, who started at Boston Common last week, will be working with Executive Editor Terri Stanley, who joined the publication in 2006 from Scene magazine, now North End Scene.<br /><br />A Somerville native, Bean is a Harvard graduate who had worked at the Robb Report since 1998.<br /><br />Kelley said he views Bean’s hire as “adding to the strength of the team.”<br /><br />“As Larry is more and more involved, he’ll end up putting his personal stamp on there too, which is true for all editorial staff,” Kelley said.<br /><br />For now, Bean is learning the ropes. “It’s a little bit of a learning curve for me,” Bean said.<br /><br />Stanley also said Bean’s experience is a good opportunity for Boston Common, which publishes six times a year.<br /><br />Stanley said she’s looking forward to collaborating with somebody who understands luxury lifestyles as well as the magazine’s concept and can help her “shape” the magazine.”</span><br /><br />Cool, right?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-64818192084678299292008-06-13T10:49:00.000-07:002008-06-13T11:13:31.424-07:00Vito Check In<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6t1PylZUNhX04StOCeQq7SXf5H993zUdeSX1iXP1nQ4Ng2GsF6omscIQtbGqkvFdXGjtEVZgN2MVsCjOYnCe1vv7Ce2bNh6Jg4yZXtXwTOF9xMedrFlROGlnkIM_quoXkOM/s1600-h/IMG_0421.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6t1PylZUNhX04StOCeQq7SXf5H993zUdeSX1iXP1nQ4Ng2GsF6omscIQtbGqkvFdXGjtEVZgN2MVsCjOYnCe1vv7Ce2bNh6Jg4yZXtXwTOF9xMedrFlROGlnkIM_quoXkOM/s320/IMG_0421.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211425261228162338" border="0" /></a><br />Michael Udesky took this picture on Wednesday night. I like it for two reasons: I just had my hair did and I'm holding the shaker just right - making me look skinnier than I actually am.<br /><br />I'm going in tonight for my third night in a row. Last night things got pretty raucous at the bar. The Lakers/Celtics game was on the tiny TV behind the bar directly above the cooler which holds all the martini glasses that I always seem to need at pivotal points in the game. Being that it was a very intense game 3, the noise level was at an all time high. With about 2 minutes left in the game, the TV shut off. Naturally everyone starts screaming at me like I did something. I looked around for the remote but couldn't find it. Finally, George, the lovable but extremely gruff waiter, comes behind the bar with the remote and says in a very thick Latino accent, "I want everyone to shut the f*ck up! It's too loud in here and this is a family f*cking restaurant. You don't stop screaming, I turn it off for good! Jesus f*cking Christ!" He then puts the TV back on and walks away.<br /><br />Good ol' George. A true wordsmith.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-76904609390162198242008-06-10T12:16:00.000-07:002008-06-11T09:24:36.137-07:00A List To Catch Us Up To SpeedSince my last post I:<br /><br />Have been to New York.<br />Watched my step daughter play Lacrosse.<br />Wished I could’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ve</span> played Lacrosse.<br />Cheered step-daughter on in the stands with my husband’s ex-wife in the pouring rain.<br />Accepted a ride home from ex-wife.<br />Spend a couple hours lost in car with step-daughter, ex-wife and ex-wife's boyfriend.<br />Spent $700 to get back to Los Angeles early for a job interview.<br />Got fired from The Game.<br />Delayed my trip to Boston for a day to have second interview for job.<br />Flew to Boston on a three hour delayed red-eye.<br />Took the water shuttle from airport to downtown Boston - so cool.<br />Heard rumors that I got hired on new show.<br />Couldn't get my agent to tell me if I got hired on new show.<br />Ate at Kelly's Roast Beef.<br />Got heartburn from the onion rings.<br />Finally found out I got hired on <a href="http://www.cbs.com/primetime/project_gary/">Project Gary</a>.<br />Drove to Vermont for Rick the Pickle Man's wedding.<br />Was told by my husband not to wear the totally unflattering <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">muu</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">muu</span> (think Maude) to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">WASPy</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">pre</span>-wedding cook-out barn party.<br />Cried over being fat.<br />Cried more over not knowing what to wear to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">WASPy</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">pre</span>-wedding cook-out barn party.<br />Sucked it up knowing husband was right.<br />Attended my first wedding officiated by a female priest.<br />Partied with my step-kids at reception.<br />Chatted with my husband’s ex-wife at reception.<br />Watched my husband deftly avoid all contact with his ex-wife at reception.<br />Asked ex-wife's boyfriend what he did for a living, didn't understand what he said, finished cupcake and walked away.<br />Drove Back to Boston.<br />Was mean to my mother whom love more than anything else in the world.<br />Walked for miles along the Charles River with my husband. So beautiful.<br />Flew Back to L.A.<br />Gave up on losing weight.<br />Had a two day hangover.<br />Considered quitting Vito.<br />Reconsidered quitting Vito.<br />Had <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Hagie</span> the dog groomer shave Mabel.<br />Think I love Mabel more due to her new haircut.<br />Cut my forehead open stocking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Pellegrino</span> at the bar.<br />Considered quitting Vito again.<br />Reconsidered quitting Vito again.<br />Have tried to think of story ideas for new show.<br />Have decided my head is an empty vessel good for nothing except banging against cabinet doors.<br />Made this list.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-10966420463725621782008-05-23T11:04:00.000-07:002008-05-23T11:05:59.013-07:00Computer DownMy computer is the shop. I won't have it back until next week. So until them I am stealing time on Sam's computer. Posting will be very sparse. So I guess what I'm trying to say is: there'll be no change at all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-61698816797784409892008-05-20T10:25:00.000-07:002008-05-20T10:28:13.502-07:00QuickieI am not weighing in today as I just got back from NYC last night and ate my head off while I was there. I will, however, give a review later of all the restaurants I went to with Paul, the NY Foodie, and of Ivy's lacrosse game.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-71945615448838589882008-05-13T09:11:00.000-07:002008-05-13T09:22:37.067-07:00Weigh In Week 40<br /><br />Holding steady at the 3 pound weight loss. Yes, I would have enjoyed holding steady at the 5 pound weight loss but it just wasn't in the cards. <br /><br />Working all weekend at Vito has definitely been a challenge to the diet. Between drinking sink slop and eating a bite of everyone's plate, I'm doing unnecessary damage to the diet. A mouthful of Fettuccine Burino here and taste of Veal Meatball there adds up. When it was just Saturday night it I could work off whatever went down the gullet in a couple of days, but 3 nights in a row both weekends has got me behind the big fat 8 ball. <br /><br />The only thing keeping my spirits up is that I know my body is firming up a bit with my "Walking With Weights" (copyright to come) workout. My upper body feels stronger and tighter. I'm up to 100 reps with the 5 pound weights. It may be time to kick it up to 7 pounds.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-53306869595710106772008-05-06T09:53:00.000-07:002008-05-06T10:20:10.116-07:00Weigh In Week 3+2.<br /><br />Yep, you read it right. I just had to rip the band-aid off quick and say it. I'm not too upset by it because I knew the gain was happening last night when I ate nachos made with ground bison (yuck), drank two <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pomegranate</span> lime margaritas, and a row of Now & <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Laters.</span> (Still the greatest candy ever made but you have to get the ones made in Mexico not in the US. The US ones are just lame and chewy like taffy the whole time. The Mexico ones are hard and crunch <span style="font-style: italic;">now</span> and soft and chewy <span style="font-style: italic;">later</span> -- the way God intended it.) The worse part of the night came when I finished the Now & <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Laters</span> and was still hungry. The bison on the nachos tasted <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">gamy</span> to me so I could only eat the outside cheesy bits. So what did I do? I marched downstairs and did the unexplainable -- I made two hot dogs. HOT DOGS??!!! Yep, two delicious, salty Boar's Head hot dogs with all the fixings. I felt sick halfway through the first one and managed a bite of the second before I gave up.<br /><br />Two pounds is a blessing after reviewing last night's menu. That and the fact that it's lady business time; I feel like I kind of got off easy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-83863366937643721422008-05-02T13:15:00.000-07:002008-05-02T13:21:33.011-07:00Mapping My WorkoutMy friend Russ directed me to a website called <a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/">Map My Run</a>. Just point and click on their map where you went and it tells you how many miles you logged. Delicious.<br /><br />2.86 miles doesn't seem like a lot but it's all hills. Here's a map for those of you playing along at home.<br /><iframe src="http://js.mapmyfitness.com/embed/blogview.html?r=b2210262700921be2fa1ad8055f3db46&u=e&t=run" height="700px" width="100%" frameborder="0"><a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/united-states/ca/santa-monica/354850961049">Ashland Hills</a><br/><a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/find-run/united-states/ca/santa-monica">Find more Runs in Santa Monica, California</a></iframe><!-- MMF PARTNER TOOL -->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-63970115484445957072008-05-01T14:45:00.000-07:002008-05-01T15:00:05.861-07:00Working Out For Weigh InsI know this matters to no one but me but I feel the need to post my workouts. Inspired by my friend Stacey, I have decided to do all my working out in the outdoors -- without instructors. When you look at how much money a year you spend for spin class or a circuit training class, when there's nothing new you're learning there, it's a stupid investment. The only thing those classes really provide you with is a place to show up to and strangers to work out with. So with that in mind I've been trying to incorporate a new workout regimen into my life. It's easier now that I'm officially done with work. (The Game wrap party is tonight -- whether me or the show get asked back for a third season is in question.)<br /><br />My latest thing has been to walk the hills of Ocean Park (my Santa Monica neighborhood) with 5 pound weights doing constant reps with my upper body. I did this once along the Charles River with Kitty and could barely move my arms the next day. I know from all my Pilates classes that constant reps with small weights are the way to tone and not build muscle. So knowing that while keeping my heart rate elevates on the hills has turned into my walk into an excellent workout. The only downside is I look like a crazy person. (Pictures to come.)<br /><br />Yesterday I waled from my house on 2nd Street to 17th Street. Not sure of the mileage -- have to clock it in the car someday. I walked up and down the hills for 1 hour. My heart rate (Yes, I wear a heart rate monitor and there are people out there who hate my attachment to it -- Maura -- but too bad. I love assigning numbers to my workout.) I was "in zone" (meaning not to low, and not too high) for 00:20:57. My average heart rate was 172 ( I used to train for marathons at 155 - 160, so I'm working pretty hard on these hills.). My maximum heart rate was 194 (Yikes, almost died on that one.). And the total number of calories burned for that hour was 782 (Think a bottle of wine.). <br /><br />All and all a good day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-35579033048812527302008-04-29T18:52:00.000-07:002008-04-29T18:55:50.682-07:00Weigh In Week 2To be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">consistent</span> (and to give myself an extra day to try and shake off the sillies from the weekend), I have moved my weigh -ins to Tuesday. I stepped on the scale this morning to find my self...(drum roll)...<br /><br />-2 lbs!<br /><br />That puts the two week total at 5 lbs. Not bad, not bad at all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-64798801430553718682008-04-22T08:35:00.000-07:002008-04-22T08:40:35.674-07:00Weigh In Week 1Our guests left at the crack this morning so I was able to weigh in.<br /><br />-3lbs.<br /><br />Not bad considering Sam and I took our guests out last night for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Mexican</span> food and margaritas. I went easy on the chips knowing I had a showdown with the scale today. However, I didn't fare so well in the margarita battle which continued on after the restaurant in my living room while we played Texas Hold 'Em. But being that I'm at minus 3, I can't complain. In fact, I'll drink to that!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-33018130217221556502008-04-21T17:29:00.000-07:002008-04-21T17:34:00.309-07:00Weigh In PostponedI'm not trying to dodge the weigh-in, it's just we have guests staying with us and the scale is in their bathroom. They leave tomorrow so I hop on then.<br /><br />Overall I think I've had a decent week. I ate well, I worked out some but, man oh man, did I fall off the wagon over the weekend. Maura and I went to Vegas and you know how they say, What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? Well, that's true. Except for the bloat you put on while sitting by the pool all day drinking mojitos and eating nachos. I'm pretty sure that weight comes home from Vegas with you. We'll find out tomorrow.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-24345289055328519822008-04-15T16:47:00.000-07:002008-04-15T17:02:55.471-07:00One Reason To Love L.A.It was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">absolutely</span> gorgeous here this weekend. I think it was 90 degrees at the beach. On Saturday morning, I couldn't find my spin shoes and by the time I did, it was too late to go to Spin class. So I decided to get on my bike and do it the old fashioned way.<br /><br />I needed to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">replicate</span> the awesome work-out I get when I spin so just sticking to the bike path wasn't going to work. (On a beautiful weekend every weekend warrior asshole and his kid is out there swerving all over the place -- dangerous and annoying.) I decided to take the path up to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Temescal</span> Canyon and figure it out from there.<br /><br />I took a right at the first light on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Temescal</span> and made my way through the Pacific Palisades. I was unfamiliar with the neighborhood but knew if I stuck to making only rights I would be nearest to the streets that hang over the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">PCH</span> and the ocean. This is what I found:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLYqU4YpyGdOV3UrN-kqtkmLG32IoqhIoI-aodxsBX1egWgfuoNBeHnwDO62RplKC4EJiyLmyV5nyGO-wcXvhGbARCMgcDlylF8bqhHtWG3Hp_6nVJlbe4RrRjl42r_EyAhc/s1600-h/palisades.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189626156369451586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLYqU4YpyGdOV3UrN-kqtkmLG32IoqhIoI-aodxsBX1egWgfuoNBeHnwDO62RplKC4EJiyLmyV5nyGO-wcXvhGbARCMgcDlylF8bqhHtWG3Hp_6nVJlbe4RrRjl42r_EyAhc/s320/palisades.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And that's taken with my cell phone! Just when you think you've had enough of Los Angeles you find a little gem of a bike ride like the one I found on Saturday. So beautiful.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-74622430952493702782008-04-14T12:38:00.000-07:002008-04-14T15:39:16.129-07:00Maximum DensityI'm at it. For real. I have been living in the fast lane, burning candles at both ends for too long. I'm not taking proper care of myself and it shows. Big time. I'm going to be 40 in 9 months and there is no way I'm going to be fat and forty.<br /><br />I had this idea in December to do a project here on the blog called "12 to 40." For twelve months I would document my progress of trying to get in decent shape by the time I turned 40. Pictures and all. Then I realized that posting pictures of myself in my underwear is something no one wants to see. Especially now. I will, however, track my progress at trying to lose twenty pounds here without pictures.<br /><br />I've found that the only way I succeed at losing weight is when I am accountable somewhere - weighing in once a week sucks but it works. So last night, I put new batteries in the scale, took my head out of the sand and saw the truth. HORRIFYING!<br /><br />Starting today, each and every Monday I will post my loss or, God forbid, my gain.<br /><br />And no, I'm not posting my starting weight. But if you need to get an idea, just go out and weigh the nearest trash dumpster. It's about the same. Wish me luck.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-55230871021723149192008-04-12T09:27:00.000-07:002008-04-12T09:40:10.694-07:00Best Toast Ever!The ceremony was, as Al said in his comment, legendary, but the toast given by Nate was truly the highlight of the evening. Spider caught most of it. <br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw9qGk4hGc7o_2PW4pjK3HyZNq-oWUdHVo3A7RUYnknUfa_yKFnbLFWJcUWW8cWb0j_S63mZEamoA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-59763932690071192962008-04-10T20:55:00.000-07:002008-04-10T21:18:04.858-07:00The Best Wedding Ever!Seriously, it was. I didn't have a videographer (is that a word?) at our wedding. Had I known what Maura had in store for us, I might have wanted to capture it on film because our wedding has gone down in history as the funniest ceremony ever. In fact, it was ripped off by a famous showrunner when he officiated a ceremony months later. We know he ripped it off because he did exactly what Maura did and that groom's brother was a guest at our wedding. No hard feelings. Anymore.<br /><br />Spider caught what he could on his camera. Here you go.<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzXpluIqOXE_51euhj6hB9XqCS4vwwHkwy3JWxevvPGMNQFG1zUo4_PRhLu56mArgu8Pt8wC2pH8w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932801.post-6542943822815580922008-04-10T10:41:00.000-07:002008-04-10T18:59:22.337-07:00Happy Anniversary, Husband!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjBXbGQALVVCmUHaTHZkCCl-s7GhykcuaTQycnodix81ixgzMJ6aVv-q1EuZbjS7g5LGfdBKhLAgyabkwjUYYoaFWViZHgvCp93kAGrByCagO2VvAN9gWKkoCqyW411Wg5U8/s1600-h/IMG_2081.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjBXbGQALVVCmUHaTHZkCCl-s7GhykcuaTQycnodix81ixgzMJ6aVv-q1EuZbjS7g5LGfdBKhLAgyabkwjUYYoaFWViZHgvCp93kAGrByCagO2VvAN9gWKkoCqyW411Wg5U8/s320/IMG_2081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187680925419132034" border="0" /></a>Today is Sam's and my wedding anniversary. Apparently, flowers are the proper gift for a 4th anniversary because they represent the blossoming partnership as a couple. Blossoming, just blossoming?! What the hell's been going on for the past 4 years then? A loose association? Is it in full bloom in 8 years and then falls off and dies? I don't like the sound of any of this so I think I'll stick to normal presents that mean something to me. Like the Major League Baseball package on Direct TV. Now Sam can watch all 100+ Red Sox games. And if you know Sam, you know the one thing he really loves is sports. Sports!<br /><br />We are very lucky to be remembered by our parents on our special day. My mother hooked us up with a lovely bouquet. Look:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghGZNdzuL5RLWdgs58FBdM5uyOuAyy9Jwqz0bNzTyhTiZS7zrj4ZN0EKeYDzW3MoqKxY_Vdg997ukOhSg92SG7eRqFfJDLzyrnn_dI1OhFvReTgipt5qUMHjd3n4QX1pvczbA/s1600-h/flowers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghGZNdzuL5RLWdgs58FBdM5uyOuAyy9Jwqz0bNzTyhTiZS7zrj4ZN0EKeYDzW3MoqKxY_Vdg997ukOhSg92SG7eRqFfJDLzyrnn_dI1OhFvReTgipt5qUMHjd3n4QX1pvczbA/s320/flowers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187680603296584818" border="0" /></a><br /><br />While Vard and Ruth laced us with some green for a fancy dinner. Awesome. <br /><br />It's gonna be a good day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2