Standing before me, amongst the big sky backdrop of Suburbia, Texas, stood Super Wal-Mart and Super Target.

I needed toothpaste and undereye concealer (a necessity ever since 7th grade when a classmate told the school I was a cocaine addict), so I decided on the lesser of the two evils and pulled into the stadium size parking lot of Super Target.*

Super Target boasts a grocery store AND retail store. Anything you could possibly want can be found there. You can furnish your entire house, fill up your refrigerator, flare up your closet, and entertain yourself with a plethora of options at Super Target. Want California grown avocados? Super Target’s got ’em! Want visually displeasing bedding from a sell-out designer? Look no further! Need your fix of forced sardonic dialogue and excessive pop culture references? Get the entire series of “Gilmore Girls” on DVD…at Super Target!

It’s easy to get side tracked at Super Target. I found myself wandering into the produce section, picking up fixings (more…)

I’m watching my hands shake on the wheel and the tears start coming.
I’m not even outside of L.A. yet.
Fuck.
I can’t see.
I’m going to crash before I even cross the county line.
Turn off Sia’s “Breathe Me”. You’re doing this on purpose.

As I watch the sights that I’ve seen a million times before grow smaller and smaller in my rear view mirror, I think about all my failures in this city. And a boy.
My failures in Los Angeles and failure with the boy are insignificant to the greater picture of this move, yet they’re all I can think about.

My feelings towards the boy are the same I have for L.A. We had a brief and tumultuous affair, and after being fucked in the ass, love turned to hate and now the two dance together on a pencil thin line. That’s why I needed to get away. Not because of the boy. Though beautiful and purposely tragic, he is a major pain in my ass. No, it’s because of the delicate tango my emotions have played over these past five years in regards to my relationship with Los Angeles.

I’m (more…)

They say, “You can never go home again.”

Who says that?

I want to know!

According to Quoteland.com, it’s a dude name Thomas Wolfe, but that’s not confirmed.

Ok, so Thomas Wolfe maybe once said, “You can never go home again.”

Well, Thomas Wolfe, you’re wrong!

I think you meant childhood. If you actually wrote “childhood”, you’d be spot on.

Because I’m discovering something, Thomas Wolfe- you can go home again!

When I first moved to L.A., I immediately transformed into a discombobulated head floating in the smoggy atmosphere of the city. As I waved good-bye to familiarity, I continued swimming deeper and deeper into the grey-orange abyss, only occasionally brushing against solidity. I’d touch down for a moment or two, only to be shot back up into the clouds, letting them take me wherever they’d like. My feet weren’t planted here, but they were no longer planted in my hometown either. Every trip back to New York, I felt a deeper disconnect all the while reading “Less Than Zero”. While I was in NY, (more…)

I hate you Whole Foods!
But you’re all I think about at night.
I dream if I will see you the next day.
Or the day after that.
And I wonder if you’ll ever let me go.
Or if I will have to muster up the courage
To stop going to your salad bar.
Do you know how difficult it is to walk by
Your marinated mushrooms
And not stick my face
In the vinegary coolness?
Do you?
Can you possibly know what it feels like
To see others picking the best of you?
Scooping up the uncoagulated tuna salad
Before I even lay a finger on you?
Oh, Whole Foods
It hurts me when I take such little from you
But my receipt says I’ve taken so much.
Whole Foods,
I’m tired of spending on you.
I’m tired of being a slave to your Vegan Potato Salad.
Please just let me go,
Because as I sit here
Cradling my recycled cardboard to-go container
With the words “Whole Foods” printed on the lid
I realize I will not find the strength
To do it myself.

A friend just emailed me pictures of my high school boyfriend’s new baby. I’m reading X-files fan fiction in my underwear.
Growing up is not easy. Some of us welcome adulthood with open arms, while others try to beat it off with a blunt object while sitting in a thong reading poorly written Harlequin stories by obsessed fans of a show that’s been off the air for many years.

I liked my childhood. I didn’t particularly want to give it up.

The days when one could dress up as your favorite role model, Dana Scully, and people thought it was cute instead of creepy. The days when I wrote “Things I want to do before I’m 25 List” consisted of pragmatic goals like “Have completed ten novels”, “Have starred in ten movies” and “Have two ex-husbands”. The days where I had no concept about the unfairness in the world, the bills I’d have to pay, the emotional breakdown that would actually come at 25 instead of stardom and divorce settlements.

I believe my childhood died in fragments, not in one final, grand (more…)

I walk this Earth looking for a man that resembles Lindsey Buckingham circa 1977. If you see a man that looks like this, please let me know.

The dude still looks hot at 60! I caught a Fleetwood Mac show about 5 years ago and couldn’t take my eyes off the man. Stevie who?!

He still wears low v-necks!

Let’s analyze, shall we? That hair! Those eyes! Those angry, minimalistic lyrics! That odd way he moves stiffly while playing guitar!

No better way to get your Lindsey fix than “Holiday Road” from NATIONAL LAMPOON’S VACATION.

Sshh…you know you love it!

and this is what our child would look like…(thanks for Buzzfeed for showing me Makemebabies.com)…

Is this creepy?

Movies about New York City made me want to live there. Movies about L.A. made me never want to go there.

So I move to L.A.

After quickly getting acquainted with the City of Angeles, I began to shovel in movies about it. Each one seemed like a love letter to the city. Sometimes a sweet and nostaligic love letter, sometimes a fucked up, hateful one about a love affair gone wrong.

And it’s the fucked up ones that make me proud to live in this city. The even better ones make downtown look romantic (oh, how I was deceived!)

1.) L.A. CONFIDENTIAL
2.) BOOGIE NIGHTS
3.) JACKIE BROWN
4.) BOYZ N THE HOOD
5.) BEVERLY HILLS COP
6.) THE PLAYER
7.) CLUELESS
8.) REPO MAN
9.) COLLATERAL
10.) THE BIG LEBOWSKI
11.) MULHOLLAND DRIVE
12.) WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT
13. ) TRAINING DAY
14.) SWINGERS
15.) DEVIL IN A BLUE DRESS
16.) FRIDAY
17.) SPEED
18.) VALLEY GIRL
19.) TO LIVE AND DIE IN L.A.
20.) L.A. STORY
21.) TO SLEEP WITH ANGER
22.) LESS THAN ZERO
23.) FLETCH
24.) MI VIDA LOCA
25.) CRASH

I’m happy to see that MAGNOLIA and GRAND CANYON (more…)

Last night, as I sat staring wide-eyed, open-mouthed at Marlon Brando’s solid, sculptured arms and chest in A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE, I tried (key word “tried”) thinking of the other cinematic performances that have captivated me in such a way. Performances where the actor has utterly and completely embodied their character. Where you’re watching the film and you think there is no actor, only this character. This character is real.

Here are my top 5 favorite performances by a male (in no particular order):

1.) Marlon Brando as Stanley Kowalski in A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE-
I don’t give a lot of actors credit, but this guy….fuck!…he is so good. There is no eloquent way to put it. He WAS Stanley. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he delivered- all looked so effortless.
Below is the famous “Stella!” scene. So sexy!

2.) Gene Wilder as Victor Frankenstein in YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN-
One my all-time favorites. This film was chocked full of terrific performances (Marty Feldman, Cloris Leachman, (more…)

The apartment was covered in drawing paper taped to the walls. In what looked like children’s handwriting, the words “Don’t give up” lined the room.

“Want a pair of my cowboy pants?”

These words broke me from my daze.

“Oh, um, sure?”

He guided me into his barren spare room that had only a tool bench and a closet full of jeans.

“I think we’re the same size. You can borrow them anytime.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks.”

We sat down on his couch and he picked up his guitar. I couldn’t look at him anymore. He was winning me over, so I tried to keep my focus on a used piece of floss lying on the coffee table.

I didn’t want him to get under my skin. For all I knew, this was all an act.

Lauren, just keep reminding yourself that he did it, whether it’s true or not.

Before I left that afternoon, I asked him what he had done for Thanksgiving that week.

“Oh, it was Thanksgiving? I bought a chicken from Gelson’s and drove up to Ojai and ate it in the woods.”

I smiled and patted him on the arm.

As I left, he said,”Maybe we can (more…)

I’ve never seen “Gossip Girl”. I’m not sure I really care to.
However, there is one thing that interests me about the show- the clothing.
I have to say. Those “OMFG” and “Mind-blowingly inappropriate” posters got my attention.
Not because of the stupid kids copulating in them, but because of a single bow-tie.

The character behind the bow-tie is quite cute (in fact, he reminds me of a gentlemen I occasionally see who will never ever date me….sigh). While waiting at the stop light at Lincoln and Venice today, staring at the 20th “Gossip Girl” poster I’ve seen that morning, I asked myself, “Are you actually attracted to the man or to the bow-tie?” It sounds like a silly question, but I’ve found myself so intrigued by the picture that I want to WEAR the bow-tie. It’s not just the bow-tie either, it’s the whole look. The suspenders, the white loafers, the scarves, the modern-day Gatsby in the Hamptons look.

Can a person just be attracted to clothing? What is it about the bow-tie (more…)