Tuesday, October 20, 2009

10 (+) Year Old Valentine

Dear Annie,

Sorting through all of my old letters tonight, I ran across a stack of mail from my parents, which they had sent me while I was in boarding academy and college. A couple stood out above the rest.

One is a Valentine's Day card from February of 1997, when I was 17. It says:

"Daughter, our Valentine wish for you is the same as always... that Cupid will take aim at a well-mannered young gentleman with a good job who has nothing pierced or tattooed."
The funniest part of the card is what my Father wrote underneath:
"- and no sooner than 10 years from now!" Love Daddy

Thanks a lot, DADDY! And he wonders why he doesn't have any grandchildren yet! (Out of spite I've given him two more years than his request!)

Another highlight is a poem that my mother copied down for me in a letter. It reminded me of you!

It ever has been since time began,
and ever will be, till time lose breath,
That love is a mood- no more- to man,
And love to a woman is life or death.

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1850 - 1919


Saturday, September 19, 2009

Saturday Night Baker

Dear Annie,

This evening I found myself driving through an LAPD checkpoint.

"Ma'am, have you had anything to drink tonight?"

There are so many witty retorts I could have used:

"I wish."

"Not yet."

"You busy later?"

"Is it free drink night with the LAPD? I'll
take an Amaretto Sour."

But as the officer bent over and shined his flashlight on me, it was apparent by the look on his face that he did not require an answer. My corduroy pants, cleavageless shirt, messy hair and salivating mouth, made it obvious that I was a girl on a different sort of mission.


That's right, Christian girls don't drink. Instead, I sheepishly said "No," and drove on to the grocery store, where I had to suffer through the humiliation of a bag boy making fun of my ever so conspicuous shopping cart.

"Mmmm. Mmmm. Ghirardelli double chocolate brownies. You know you could get a Hershey's bar to go with this on aisle 4... or a nice carton of homogenized whole milk."

I informed him that the two pints of Häagen-Dazs accompanying my purchase would suffice.

Now it is midnight, and I have a whole batch of brownies sitting on my counter along with those pints of Vanilla and Amazon Valley Chocolate ice cream in my freezer (which I barely touched).

I think I have finished reading all three amusing posts on craigslist for the night, so now it is time to go to sleep.

MADE BROWNIES, CAN'T FINISH - 29 - (North Hollywood)

I made brownies tonight and there is no way I'll be able to eat them all by myself.

I'm a SWF, cute, intelligent, not fat (yet), looking for a kind, honest, Christian man who likes baked goods. If we have a connection, there may be room for seconds.

Must love ice cream.

No nuts.

Delectably Yours,

Friday, August 7, 2009

To My Future Children

Dear Annie,

The only time I ignored a fire alarm, there was actually a fire.

This incident occurred at boarding academy one lazy afternoon, and it wasn't until I heard girls running through the hallway, screams, and doors slamming that I finally felt curious enough to see what the fuss was all about. I opened my door and the entire hall was filled with smoke.


It wasn't my fault that I had ignored the alarm. I'll blame my dawdling on many years of fire drills in elementary school. The administration, for some reason, felt the need to train the students what to do in the event that there was a real fire. All it did, instead, was render us immune to the screeching sound and its intended warning.

The absolute worst drill in school was the one they set off for earthquakes. The noise it made was akin, perhaps, to a rebel yell: a wail both completely indescribable and terrifyingly chilling. It made my skin crawl. I don't understand the purpose of an earthquake alarm: do you really need to be notified that the ground beneath your feet is shaking violently?

Now that I think about it, my childhood was filled with apocalyptic warnings, mostly from my loving parents cautioning me weekly as to the trials and tribulations my future would hold if I did not heed their every word. My father used to tell me: “A foolish man learns from his own mistakes, a wise man learns from the mistakes of others.” But of course I didn't understand or listen to half of what they told me until it was too late. Only now am I learning to obey my mother when she gives me advice, and it is still tough, even at 29. When I'm struggling with potential life changing decisions, I have to call her repeatedly and let her brainwash me for hours on end so that I don't screw up my life. The sad truth of it is that she has never been wrong. Never.

Why is wisdom so counterintuitive?

A year or two ago I tried to create a YouTube video for my future children. I thought that perhaps my 15 year old daughter would rather listen to a semi-wizened 27 year old Lisa than to her painfully uncool, decrepit old mother (who uses words like "uncool"). I never posted the video because, after I edited it, I looked so old and boring in the thing that it depressed me.

So, I've decided that I shall write my sage advice here, instead.

Advice for My Future Children

To a Daughter: Wait till you are at least 20 to start dating.

To a Son:
Wait till you are at least 30 to start dating.

Daughter: Challenge yourself, have a myriad of hobbies. The sooner you figure out what your passion is and develop it, the better chance you have of turning it into a successful career.

Don't play video games.

Daughter: Read lots of books by old dead guys.

The word "tomorrow" is not spelled "tommarow." And please learn the difference between "your" and "you're."

Daughter: A certain kind of man will say anything to get whatever it is he wants from you. Yes, anything! He will tell you you are the most beautiful woman he has ever met, he will say he loves you, he will tell you you are the reason for which he exists if he thinks these words will help him accomplish his mission. And then, when he gets what he wants or you don't live up to his expectations, he will discard you like a used piece of rubbish. Run from a man who promises you the world.

Son: Contraceptives are not foolproof. Don't be a fool.

Daughter: Learn the art of femininity: how to dress, poise, etiquette. Wear dangling earrings, curl your hair, but don't put on too much make up - just enough will do.

Brush your teeth.


Friday, July 10, 2009

Amazing Grace

John Newton

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Then when we've first begun.

Monday, July 6, 2009


Dear Annie,

Everyone thought my first boyfriend was gay...

During my sophomore year of boarding academy, I had many suitors. Three of them declared their undying love for me in the same week, two wrestled each other with me as the intended prize and one chased me across campus.

I dated none of them.

Instead, I dated Jesse,* the weirdest freshman in school.
"Dude! Did you hear that Jesse has a girlfriend?"
"No way! I feel sorry for her."
It was true. Jesse was a bit... odd. He was highly intelligent, eloquent and magnetic. He loved literature and the arts. He was also so flamboyant that everyone just assumed he was gay. Jesse claimed it wasn’t true. In fact, I got to know him through my friend Heather, on whom he had a big crush. He did however love theater and the arts, wear makeup and there were rumors of him running around the boy's dormitory one night in hot pink polyester pants. It didn't matter to me. I was smitten. Eventually we began dating.

At times, I too, had my doubts about Jesse’s sexual orientation. He never cared to sit by me in church, we never kissed, and he even refused to hold my hand because, as he said, "our hands just don't fit together."

Jesse and I talked about books, philosophy and politics. Every night we walked around "the loop," which was a road encircling the entire campus. He told me that his mother used to date Bill Gates, and that he knew the guy personally. His parents were divorced and he much preferred his estranged father to his crazy mother. Jesse aspired to be a politician, seeing that he had connections with the higher-ups. He told me that he had been born in Essex, England, and that his mother had smuggled him back to the USA so that he could be a true US citizen.

On the last day of school, Jesse kissed me goodbye. It was my first kiss, and also the last time I saw Jesse. My parents shipped me off to Spain that summer, and even though I wrote to him every day, the only message he ever sent back was a short email letting me know that he was dying and had four months to live. He made up some name for his disease. My dad couldn't find it in any medical text book, and a phone call to his mother confirmed our suspicions. Almost every wild story Jesse ever told me was a lie. How very pathological of him.

I suppose when you are a 15 year old boy who wants to dump your overly devoted girlfriend, it is just as easy to tell her you are going to DIE. In retrospect, I was insanely obsessed, so we'll just give him the benefit of the doubt.

Jesse is still alive of course. He's since been married... and divorced. He smokes, drinks, is an atheist and a liberal.

I know, because I Google.


*Names not changed to protect the almost gays.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Too Little, Too Late

Dearest Annie,

On my way home from work tonight, there was an ambulance on Magnolia Blvd. As I pulled over to let him to pass, I noticed that the driver wasn't quite behaving normally. He was driving rather slowly, and eventually paused a long time in the middle of the road. The lights were flashing and the siren was sputtering, as if he couldn't decide whether to turn it on or off. Then he slowly pulled onto a dead end street.

I continued to drive merrily on my way, but as I looked in my rear view mirror, I could see the poor fellow turning around. Again, I yielded to let him pass. He was obviously very disoriented on his journey to what may have been a life or death situation. It must have taken him a minute or two to slowly catch up to me as I was halted there on the side of the road. He paused yet again, and eventually turned left on a side street. I've never seen such a slow ambulance! I snickered at the irony of it all as I continued home. Somewhere someone was dying, and the ambulance sent to save the poor chap was frightfully lost!

"It could have been me..." I thought, in a desperate attempt to not make light of such a grave situation. That didn't much help. I continued snickering.

It is interesting how much timing plays a role in our everyday lives. Some call it fate, some call it an "act of God," but I like to call it coincidence. I'm not saying that God doesn't intervene in the minutiae of our lives, I just mean: "Who am I to assume any given event is a divine sign from above that I should to this or that?"

There has been lots of ironic timing in my life these past few months... an unexpected guest at the roller rink, a flower unknowingly left on my doorstep just minutes before I break up with its sender, an email delivered only hours too late...

Back to the present.

I park my car, gather my belongings and, in an unusual moment of productivity, decide I should probably check my mail box. I usually only check the mail once a week. I open the thing, which is stuffed full of newspaper coupons and Netflix DVDs. As I extract the crumpled mess, my eye catches a glimpse of a small envelope resting at the bottom of the box. Call it sixth sense or feminine intuition... I know immediately what it is:
Dear Lisa,

My heart feels so joyous now. I just wanted to write you an encouraging note. I enjoy our talks, laughs, encouragements and inspirations. You are so smart, talented, funny, caring, and very beautiful. You inspire me!!! I pray the Lord will quickly show us the way and remind us to trust in Him always. He knows what our desires will be. We have had many trials and yet we continue to learn for God is good.

Yours Truly,

I am mortified. There are tears. Six days ago, Annie. Six whole days.


At any given moment I have 2-3 men showing interest in me. It is really tough to figure out

a. which ones actually LIKE me
b. which ones I might like
c. when to take the risk and date one of them?

Sometimes I just wish they'd all go away!!!!

CAVEMAN (I should ask David Cho to illustrate this) :
Hmmmm. She's kinda cute... can I do better? Yeah, I think I can do better. Do I really want to date right now anyway? I have so much I want to accomplish before I "settle down." Wow! Family Guy is on. I'm so glad I bought this big screen TV...

Mmmmm... popcorn.

But back to the letter...

Endearing as this scented missive might be, perhaps it is too little too late? It is flattering, I'll give it that, but still it lacks true conviction: "I pray the Lord will quickly show us the way... He knows what our desires will be..."

What are your desires you FOOL?
Why do you torture me so?

Perhaps our lost ambulance driver could have used a GPS. God, however, does not provide us with a divine decree for every decision in our lives. In a way, the bible is our GPS, and as I mentioned above, in it, MEN WERE DECISIVE! Can you imagine Adam, upon beholding Eve for the first time as he arose from his deep slumber, proclaiming to God, "What's this? Can't you do any better?"

I'm not advocating a man marry the first woman he meets. All I'm saying is if he finds her "smart, talented, funny, caring and very beautiful," as my would-be suitor proclaims, then why not pursue her with true conviction and Godly intent?! If his decision is not to pursue me, or he is unsure of his feelings, then why is he telling me all these lovely things in the first place?

I'm starting to sound bitter, so I'll shut up now.

Undecidedly Yours (Truly!!!),

Monday, June 29, 2009

Gay Bar

Dear Annie,

When I first began attending church again, I was dating a Lutheran named Paul. He was a "good kid" from Illinois: smart, accomplished, conservative, and he liked athletic things. He was a private pilot, advanced SCUBA diving instructor, and enjoyed monthly trips to the shooting range. It goes without saying that Paul was not a thinker, nor did he care for theological discussions. I didn't much care at the time, either. All that mattered to me is that we generally believed in the same God, and felt it right and proper to someday live on a farm, vote republican and keep a loaded rifle under the bed.

Paul came from a culture in which you just don't talk about things... anything really. It is okay to discuss the weather, but only if the weather channel is on, (which it is, of course). I didn't get along with Paul's friends, really. Somehow I would always manage to embarrass him around them. I could do no right in his eyes. I'd spend a whole day of socializing with them, being on my best behavior, and on the ride home, I'd receive heaps of criticism for the littlest mistake. I had to really fight to fit in with his crowd.

Near the end of our relationship, his long-time friend Sarah flew out to visit. I desperately wanted to make a good impression. She had some other friends in West LA, and Paul told me they were spending that Friday night hanging out at a local bar on the Westside. I had to be at church that night.

All through the sermon, all I could think about was Paul and his female friend in West LA without me... having fun... drinking just a little too much. Who was this Sarah person and why was she with my boyfriend!? By the end of the service, I had resolved to leave the safety of my church group and join the dark side.

Paul was quite surprised to hear from me:

"Want me to come hang out with you guys?"
"Oh... no, you don't have t-"

Luckily Paul had been foolish enough to tell me they were at the Cabo Cantina on Wilshire. I drove home, exited my church clothes, and put on my best representation of what I thought "clubbing attire" might be. I got in my car, sped down the 405, parked a mile away, and made it to the bar about five minutes before they were ready to leave. "Good," I thought. I was relieved to be away from the loud music and drunkards. We went back to Sarah's friend's apartment, about three blocks away.

Sarah's friends included some hotshot wealthy business entrepreneur who lived in a swanky high rise apartment building, and a Latin pop singer (who we'll call "Rico"). I felt glad that the night was over, content to be sitting on the couch chatting over a cup of tea, but to Rico and Sarah, the night was still young.

I've learned over the years that it is simply not wise to go places with "friends of friends." I know it seems entirely logical that a decent person would have decent friends. This just isn't the case. Often times I've found myself held hostage in a car with one of these semi-strangers, being completely at his mercy and too polite to protest whatever wild adventure he has in store.

Rico was a friend of a friend of a friend. He had a delightful personality: magnetic and quite charming. He was smart, cute, ambitious, talented, and, well... gay. I was happy to have made his acquaintance until he suggested that we should all go over to West Hollywood and check out the gay scene. At this point I would have been happy to walk the mile back to my car alone and call it a night, but the thought of my boyfriend gallivanting around West Hollywood at 2 am irked me. I felt compelled to join the fun.

By the time we parked in West Hollywood, I had to go to the bathroom rather badly. Paul and the boys took the liberty of peeing in some dark alley. That was rather interesting. Women, of course, do not have that ability. When we reached the first bar, Sarah and I immediately ran to the bathroom. It was occupied. We waited several minutes, and whoever was in there simply would not come out. Sarah knocked on the door. Someone knocked back!

Now, there are stories you hear of certain communities that you just categorize under stereotype or urban legend. You never imagine that they could possibly be true. As we stood there, hopping up and down with our legs crossed, to our shock and horror the door finally did open and I kid you not, three men emerged. They took great pleasure in insulting us on the way out. Let's just say it was offensive.

We hesitated for a minute, afraid to look inside and see what these men had left behind. I was finally brave enough to crack the door, and what I encountered is an image forever ingrained upon my mind. Seriously Ann, a completely wet floor, flooded toilet, used condoms, syringes, a pile of used toilet paper at least a foot high... it was dark, dank, festering... worse than my worst nightmare. I'd rather rot away in a Mexican jail cell than spend 30 seconds in that bathroom. Sarah agreed. We decided holding it in was a better option for the time being.

Upon returning to the boys, Rico assured us that "not all gay men behave that way, just the insecure ones." This was mildly reassuring. It was fun to watch him flit and frolic about the room. He knew people, so it seemed. We eventually did find a bathroom in the next bar that was not quite so bad. By that time I had no choice but to use it. The night ended around 4am with Rico throwing himself at a very good looking man who simply wasn't interested.

Ultimately, I suffered through this West Hollywood night(mare) in vain. Paul dumped me a month or so later, and I really wish I had a more exciting denouement... it is amazing the things we do to impress the ones we think we love.

I talked to Paul a couple months ago. He's now a Master Mason, and has taken up sailing.


Saturday, June 27, 2009


Dear Annie,

It's 11pm and I just had an opossum waddle through my apartment door. I know what you are thinking... why is my apartment door open at 11pm? It's hot, that's why! I know, I live in North Hollywood, which dictates it much more likely for a drug addict, transient or transvestite to wander on in... but no, I get an opossum.

Opossums may not be as terrifying as spiders; however, you can't exactly squish an opossum and flush him down the toilet now can you? (Let the record show that I actually rescue all arachnids and deposit them safely outside in the flowerbed).

Luckily, all I had to do was utter one syllable and he turned right around and ran out. I wonder if opossums would make good pets? They seem a rather docile creature. I think this is the same opossum I've seen out in the parking lot. He sits up on the brick wall and licks himself like a cat.

Well anyway, I hope this mildly entertained you.


Monday, June 22, 2009

Chat with Craig

a modern day technological poem.

: i'm going "invisible" but you should still be able to type to me.
invisible! ha ha.
2:23 PM weird. it made invisible bold
i dont know why
it didn't that time
Craig: haha

8 minutes
2:32 PM Lisa: this should be bold
this italic
2:33 PM Craig: was it?
Lisa: for me it was. i don't know if it showed up that way for you if you are on your phone and not a computer
2:34 PM for you it might have shown up with stars around the word or an _

52 minutes
3:26 PM Craig: nothing fancy here, just whatever you type
3:27 PM yes I'm on my phone
3:31 PM Lisa: well too bad then... you may miss my subtle innuendos written in italics!
3:32 PM brb
Craig: bold
3:34 PM Lisa: yes that worked
that you can do that
yet can't see it
Craig: annoying?
3:35 PM well I know what it means
3:36 PM Lisa: oh
Craig: so I can figure it out
Lisa: so you see the stars
3:37 PM Craig: did the bold and italic work at the same time?
Lisa: yes
it did
the "i can" is not bold
but the figure it out is bold and italic
i can is italic
but not bold
3:38 PM Craig: so it's backward?
Lisa: that is correct
3:39 PM Craig: that's not right
Lisa: ?
Craig: underscores have been used for centuries to signify underlines for printing presses
3:40 PM Lisa: yes. and since the advent of the computer, underscores mean italic
an underlined word
should be italicized instead
i know. i took typography
italic is the new underline
get it?
3:41 PM Craig: lame
3:42 PM why so confusing
computers have earned the name a friend of a friend calls them: confuser
4:01 PM Craig: good
does that work?
4:02 PM Craig: wh*a*t
4:03 PM _

Saturday, June 20, 2009


By Lisa Gilbert

Friday night, Ms. Ariel Morgan, a Southern California resident, was found dead in her North Hollywood apartment. While investigators have not ruled out homicide, her tragic demise seems to have been self-inflicted. "It appears that Ms. Morgan died of undying devotion," says Detective Reynolds of the North Hollywood Police Department. "I see this all the time... it's a classic case of Hamlet and Ophelia."

Authorities are not sure, as of yet, who the object of her affection might have been. A hundred candles were found in Ariel's apartment, along with what appears to be an unaddressed love note. The most striking evidence in this case, remarkably, is the peculiar letter-shaped lacerations:
discovered on Ariel's neck. However, Ms. Morgan apparently perished before carving out an actual name. "It appears that Ariel accidentally gouged her jugular, and the rest is history," lamented a teary-eyed Reynolds, "In my thirty years on the force, I've never seen a case of unrequited love this gut-wrenching."

Miss Morgan's family is devastated, as well. "Ariel had a few men showing interest in her, but we had no idea anything had gone this far." A friend, who wishes to remain anonymous, disclosed to reporters that Ariel was extremely devoted, and once she fell for a man, he could do no wrong in her eyes. "The word 'no' was simply not in her vocabulary."

UCLA psychology professor, Belinda Havarti, informed LA Times reporters that there have been an increasing number of these cases in the United States over the past ten years. Psychologists unanimously blame the phenomenon on movies such as Twilight. "Women watch these films and get an unrealistic idea of what love is," says Havarti, who suspicions the root of this disorder stems much deeper than originally surmised: "Not every man turns out to be a 'Mr. Darcy.' We just have to get that through our thick skulls. There are far more 'Mr. Wickhams' in the world, tragically."

The real question of the hour is, even if Ms. Morgan is technically responsible for her own death, could this still be ruled a homicide? The National Organization for Women thinks yes. "Men should not get away with taking advantage of women like this. This man, whoever he is, needs to be punished," says NOW's president, Nancy Jones. " The ACLU has also exhibited extreme interest in this case.

Detectives are still hunting down the culprit. "Until we find him, we'll have no idea what really happened to this poor young woman," says Detective Reynolds. "All we have is her note." Authorities would not release Ms. Morgan's letter to the public due to sensitivity issues; however, it is rumored the last line of the note reads something to the effect of:

Not Again! Why? Why? Why?



Thursday, May 28, 2009



I'm reading Octavius, and this passage that Mark Felix writes about his dear friend reminds me of my friendship with you! (Except the part about Octavius being dead, of course).


"I often reflect on my memories of Octavius, my dear and loyal friend. I remember his charm and sweetness so vividly that it seems that I'm actually journeying back in time - rather than simply reminiscing about events that have long since passed. Although I can no longer actually see him with my eyes, a vivid picture of him is deeply etched into my heart. It's no wonder that I've missed this remarkable and holy man so much since he departed this life.

"He radiated a deep love for me at all times, during both work and play. The things I loved, he loved. The things he disliked, I disliked. You would have thought that our two bodies shared but one mind. He was my confidant in my loves; my pillar of support in my mistakes.

"And when I climbed out of the gloomy abyss of spiritual darkness into the light of wisdom and truth, he did not cast me aside. Rather, he also turned to the way of truth - and even outstripped me in his spiritual walk. For that reason, when I was recently musing over the events during our many years of intimacy and friendship, I reflected at length on our time together..."

-Mark Minucius Felix, Octavius


Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Salad Bar

Dear Annie,

It is with great fear and trepidation that I make my salad at the Gelson's salad bar every day for lunch. The tongs always fall into the bin of spinach, and as I pick through it I can't help but think about the hundreds of hands that have touched those tongs which subsequently have touched my spinach. My only consolation is that I'm not dead yet, and I've been eating lunch at Gelson's for over four years, almost every day.

The worst part about the salad bar is that they put the cheddar cheese between the tuna and the chicken. I don't know how this happens, but little flakes of chicken end up in the cheese. I see them floating around as I pick through it. (I know what you are thinking: "Why bother with the cheese!!?" I really don't have an answer for you other than that I just really like cheese.)

Today I held up the entire line as, to my horror, I dumped a tong-full of cheese on my salad and noticed a little chunk of chicken fall into the mix. I paused for a moment to stare down at that little chunk, wondering what my next move should be. The lady next to me asked me what the matter was. I informed her that I am a vegetarian, and that there was chicken in my salad. "I know what you mean," she said, "I'm a vegetarian now... well... trying anyway... it's hard!"


I gingerly reached my pinky finger into my salad, trying to flick out that chicken speck. I ended up just pushing it down farther. People behind me were becoming impatient, so I dumped a few more items on my salad, in a daze, trying my best to ignore what had just occurred. Finally I decided that I had to get that chicken out of there at all costs. I went straight to the end of the line and grabbed a fork. I picked and prodded all around, but that chicken flake was nowhere in sight. I found other flakes of chicken, but not that big chunk.

I'm sitting here now, eating my salad, and all I can think with every bite is that somewhere lurking in my lunch is a chunk of chicken. I will not taste it when it finally ends up in my mouth, but it has still managed to ruin my meal.

People ask me if I am going to raise my children vegetarian. Frankly, in some ways, it is just too cruel to do such a thing in this carnivorous world. I can't even imagine trying to be a vegetarian back East or in the Midwest. I'd starve. Maybe I'll raise half my kids vegetarian as some sort of odd scientific experiment. Which batch will grow taller and stronger? Which batch will be less prone to disease? Maybe they'll cover it in the local news.


It would have to be a slow news day of course.


Monday, April 6, 2009

Facebook Stalking My Mother

Dear Ms. "I deleted my blog,"

I am presently chatting with my mother on facebook. She doesn't seem like herself through the chat window. I had to type: "Is this my mother talking?" It's a bit disturbing. In fact, her profile doesn't really feel like her either. The things she types, the pictures she posts, and the comments people leave her. 

She just now changed her relationship status to "married," which seems weird. Firstly that she waited so long to do it, and secondly the idea of her being "married" at all! I mean, I know my mother is married to my father but to see the little facebook heart there with "married" next to it forces me to think about my parents in that other way... 


In fact, when I asked her about it this is what transpired:


i'm glad you changed your status to "married" ha ha ha


Well, no comment

ha ha


WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? I've never heard their names in my life, and this Angela person is having lunch with my mother? What in the world?

Annie, I just can't handle it!!

CONCLUSION: Mothers shouldn't be allowed to have facebook accounts. That's all there is to it.


Wednesday, March 25, 2009


Dear Annie,

In 7th grade my parents decided they wanted a change of scenery, so we moved to Santa Rosa, California. We were only there a year, but when we moved back home, everything was different. I remember crying on the car ride there, and crying on the ride back. It's tough when you're a kid, adjusting to such seemingly drastic changes.

So we moved back home and I returned to my old school. There had been an influx of new students, and my best friend Julie had latched onto a whole new group of friends. One girl in particular, Rachel, seemed dead-set on becoming Julie's new best friend!

Julie and I had been best friends since third grade. We used to alter the lyrics to songs like "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" to say inappropriate things. We had countless sleepovers, and my family took her on many of our camping trips. One of our favorite playground pastimes was making fun of the boys at recess who would pretend to fight each other karate style. (We called them the Karate Idiots, and would make up witty things we thought they might say to each other.) Somehow I thought our friendship would last a lifetime.

Rachel and Julie had some sort of connection that I didn't share. I tried desperately to remedy this. Nothing seemed to work. I remember one day we were walking to class, and I thought to ask Julie what her favorite color was. I kid you not, Rachel piped up and asked the same question just seconds before I could utter it!

"Hey, Julie... what's your favorite color?"

"Sea green."

"Wow! Mine too! Let's be best friends forever!"

That's how I remember it anyway.

As the year progressed, I felt increasingly distanced from Julie. I was the "outcast." They would go to parties and events, and somehow I was rarely invited. I felt lucky if they even saved me a seat at the lunch table!

After a while I simply accepted my place on the fringe, and felt lucky I had friends at all. Then, one day during Phys Ed, Julie approached me, motioning that she wanted to whisper something in my ear.

Could this be? A secret? Was Julie actually going to tell me a secret?! Suddenly I felt as if perhaps the tables were turning...somehow secret telling signified the ultimate form of acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, Julie and I were still great friends.

I leaned in eagerly, fully accepting the bait, only to receive not a secret, but an ear full of cold water. That's right. Julie had spit a mouthful of drinking fountain water right into my left ear!

The tears welled up immediately. I sat in the corner of the gym the entire period and cried uncontrollably. Julie must have been shocked. I don't think she had any idea how she had made me feel.

Well life goes on and time heals all wounds. I left for boarding school a year later and made a whole new bunch of friends with an entirely different set of issues. That, however, is a different story for a different time!


Saturday, March 14, 2009


Dear Annie,

I am thirsty.

Very thirsty!

The only thing keeping me sitting here so patiently is the knowledge that I can easily get out of my seat at any moment, go to the kitchen and drink a glass of water.

If, for some reason, I realized that there was no water, I'd absolutely panic. I'd feel that I was on the verge of dehydration! I would be wondering how I had survived this long without a drink, and praying my last prayer.

Instead, I can type this calmly and rationally... and even take the time to try and be just a little bit witty...


Thursday, March 12, 2009

Movie Sweater

Dear Annie,

As a single 29 year old, I have finally learned the joys of going to a movie all by myself. It is quite nice, actually. I am able to eat at whichever restaurant I choose, and I don't have to feel guilty for watching a movie I want to see and no one else does.

I don't go that often... but when I do, it's an event! I pull back my slightly unkempt hair into a pony tail, and throw on my movie sweater. Yes, that's right! I have a favorite sweater to wear to the movies. Normally clothing wears out after a while. Not this sweater. I must have washed it hundreds of times and it still looks brand new. In fact, I've had it for eleven years. It is the most amazingly comfortable sweater in the world... it is red... plaid... polyester... and the thing is three sizes too big for me. It belonged to my high school sweetheart, Michael Bork.

Michael dumped me for my ex-roommate Breanna right after I graduated. The two of them were married last year, but I STILL HAVE THE SWEATER. I'm thoroughly convinced that I got the better deal.

Some may find this odd... firstly that I would keep it, and secondly that I would be so fond of the thing as to tote it along on my solitary movie expeditions, but I do not attach sentiments to objects like some people do. That is simply unhealthy behavior.

I suppose I'll throw it out the day I get married. Perhaps it can be the "something old" or, even better the "something borrowed" at my wedding. Though I suppose if I marched down the aisle wearing that wretched thing it would be a lot more difficult for the poor fellow facing me to say "I do!"

Oh well... a little test of true devotion never hurt anyone.


Call... Waiting...

Dearest Annie,

I hate call waiting.

Nothing is more annoying than talking with a friend on the phone, only to be ditched for an incoming call. That being said, it is very odd now to call your home line and be met with the interminable "busy" signal. I feel so... helpless! I cannot even leave you a message!

Yesterday I called and your line was busy. I tried a little later... still busy...


frustration sets in..............................

still busy.......


It's been an hour now. I get impatient. I call again. Still busy.........

Finally I call twice in a row, with only perhaps twenty seconds between each call, and to my shock and horror, Jim picks up.

JIM:  Helloooo?
LISA:  Uh... Oh hiii Jim... It's Lisa.... is... Annie there?
JIM:  Have you been trying to call this whooole time?
LISA:  Um... no.... I haven't been calling incessantly... every minute... for the past hour. I have a life... I'm at work.... I'm, you know, busy and stuff....  
JIM:  No... of course you wouldn't do thaaaat...

Moral of the story:  GET CALL WAITING!

Much Love and Devotion,

Monday, February 9, 2009

Friday, February 6, 2009


Dear Annie,

Do you ever feel mortal? Sometimes I'll touch my skin and think of all the muscles, sinews, organs, bones and blood that lay just beneath the surface. I can't quite fathom how I'm a living, breathing, thinking, feeling human being. Probably the closest one can get to being solely spirit is to be in a quiet, dark, weightless, soundless environment.

When I got home from work today, I filled my bathtub with hot water, turned out all the lights,  and closed the bathroom door. Then I immersed myself to the point where the only part of me above the water was my nose. I stayed this way for a long time.

Have you ever opened your eyes underwater? I'm assuming most people have. It is odd, though, opening your eyes and seeing nothing but darkness. There is no real way for your eyes to tell that they are in water at all!

In boarding academy I used to drag my plastic desk chair into the shower stalls. There was an endless supply of hot water and I would sit in there for well over an hour with my eyes closed. Sometimes I would take a book. My favorite book was Peter Pan. It is a shorter story, and I think I printed most of it out onto one piece of paper and laminated it. That way it wouldn't get wet.

I went swimming at 5:30 this morning in the rain. What is it about water that is so soothing? 

Well, sorry for this brooding blog. I do believe it is time for me to sleep. Hopefully it will be a good 12 hours before I am conscious again...


Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Just for Kicks.

Some of my Myspace stalkers:

hello like to meet u . u look nice
and it is a nice smile on your face.
beautiful girl. what to become friends
and talk on internet.

Hi Lisa, I must admit that I laughed when I read that at some point laundry is inevidible!! NICE My mother doesn't say I should marry a farmer, but she would like to see me move back to the midwest. I loved reading your profile and as far as the Bible goes a couple of my fav books are Laments (gets pretty deep when it talks of mother's eating their children) and Luke. I don't mean to sound boring picking a gospel, but Luke tells it in a way the other 3 just don't.

I wanna meet a down-to-earth, cool girl like you so check out my profile and if ya have time look at SpiderBABY, my number 2 friend. I am the drummer in the band, it's my dream and my passion! Take care and hope to hear from ya....


I went through your profile inside out and the first thing that got my attention was your pics. I dont know how you look so damn cute? It cant be just the great angles ;) Of course then I also took some more time and read your profile to see that we got a few things in common. Well if you like what you see over here and read my profile as well, maybe we can talk sometime? I do want to emphasize reading my profile.. since I like to stay honest.

Oh yea Im not tryin to get into your panties..so dont get em up in a bunch already. And feel free to holla at me on AIM as ________ and YAHOO as ______. I m just givin that out to you since you dont seem like a stalker.

Hit me up if you like


be easy
Do not open till xmas

ha- you're soo impatient! ;p i read your page and there's something interesting i noticed about you. im curious.. what are your thoughts on being romantic? like, when is it too early to display that side of you when you're just getting to know someone?

(there are no words)
how r u ?
i m tiffanie
do u mind being friends or u have yahoo IM to chat

Dr. Peter
I just saw your profile on myspace and see that you are single and not that far away from me. I live in Irvine. I would like to get to know you better. I am a down to earth person. I am fairly educated, got a doctorate in Satellite communication systems, used to work for NASA. I own a small engineering firm in Irvine. I am musical and I play the violin. Like the outdoors, surfing, skiing, tennis etc.
You can call me or email me, maybe we can get together for a coffee or something more. If interested, my email is _______ and my yahoo messenger is _______.
My cell phone is ______

soooo, how's that whole 'im hot' thing going for ya? because you are...very hot.

My most eager internet suitor ever was a guy named Tom. His first email he sent me was this (and I should never have written back!):

i like your profile... but why huckabee ?? its interesting how he came from nowhere and now he is the front runner.. please explain :-)

Half way through our communication he sent this:

so tell me more about you what do you want to do with your life? I am planning to retire early and travel the world. im going to Italy in a few months. it should be fun in going wine tasting there . lol its going to be so much fun. I trying to set rooming with my suppliers so I can stay at the vineyards. oh yeah.do you like wine?

you should also know im very old fashioned I think the man should take care of his wife and family. I don't even think I want my wife to work while the children are young and not in school. well.. since im putting all the cards on the table.. i should explane this better.. i come from a very wealthy family.. my parents are in the process of passing money to me that way i dont have to give 46% of it to the government.. so basicaly they are going to pass me enough to buy my 2nd house out in la.. i plan on living in this one.. therefor i dont see the need to have my wife work if the house is paied off and i have a good income.. However if she wants to work I don't think its my right to tell her what to do. I only want my wife to stay home because im not big on having strangers baby-sit my children,

ok.. I guess to sum it up.. I think I have a lot of quality's about you I like. I don't want you to compromise your beliefs however there is so much more you should look at than just god.. I had a friend that because freaky and did not leave the house other than to go to church.. and he would tell me I was going to hell when sneezed ... and I was like bro you need help.. im not saying your like that.. and I hope your not that extreme ..however I think the fact you have god in your life is a good thing.. and I have a lot of respect for you :-) and im happy I met you and I think god had wanted me to meet you for some reason

And near the end of our emails... the ultimate line!!!

if your open minded and still want to chat let me know and ill tell you more about me... if not it suck that I don't have a chance with a woman that could potentially but a amazing wife and mother for my children :-(

Monday, January 12, 2009


Deus ex machina or reason #501 to delete my myspace account?

Hi Lisa,

I work in casting for the Emmy Award-winning company that does Project Runway, Top Chef, Last Comic Standing and other top-notch shows. We're currently developing a documentary series (not a dating or elimination series) about new marriages for a major television network.

We recently finished a nationwide search and found a good looking, athletic, very down-to-earth and educated guy who is ready to settle down with the right woman. It's our job to find her!

I found your Myspace profile and am approaching you because from what I can tell, I think you might be a match for him. If you're interested, I'd love to speak to you more about this project. I can be reached at either the number or email below to help explain in more detail.

Thanks and I look forward to speaking with you soon,
Magical Elves Casting (this is a link to their myspace page)
MagicalElves (
their website)