Jenny Fest Part 1

I just got back from Omaha. I was there visiting my "sister" Jenn. (For more on that, see this blog post).

She is the female lead in a hilarious and sexy musical, "Reefer Madness." She plays a sweet little teenage girl who eventually becomes a dominating sex kitten after being introduced to marijuana. Jenn was gorgeous and brilliant in the production and I couldn't have been prouder. She has the most amazing voice I have ever heard in my life and I have no doubt she will be a big Broadway star after she graduates with her Masters next spring.



After the musical, we hung out and I got to meet some of her old college buddies and her new boyfriend (who is awesome). We had a few drinks and talked the night away. It was lovely.

The next day, after I had a goodbye breakfast with Jenn and her boyfriend, I met back up with my parents at their hotel. We spent the rest of the day downtown, browsing through fabulous boutiques, eating lunch at a quaint little cafe, and walking around an art fair, before heading home.



It was a perfect weekend.

What's even better is that Jenn is coming to visit me tomorrow in my town and will stay for a couple days. I'm so excited! So now this time she will get to meet my friends and see my boyfriend again and see all my hangouts! So exciting!

I'm hoping this week is just as wonderful...

The day legends died...

This was initially supposed to be a Farrah Fawcett tribute only. But when Michael Jackson passed away this afternoon, I realized I couldn't omit him.

Let's start with the blonde bombshell...



Having a 65-year-old father, I grew up watching reruns and tapes of a lot of classic television shows most kids my age didn't watch on a regular basis. One of those shows was Charlie's Angels. Three beautiful Barbie Doll type women who solved crime? Sign me on! I wanted to be just like them. I want to have the full-bodied, flowing hair of Farrah. I wanted to wear the hip hugging bell bottoms. I wanted to kick ass without breaking a nail.





Farrah was truly an icon for her generation. Millions of women wanted to look just like her (radio programs used to give step-by-step details on how Farrah shampooed her hair). Millions of guys wanted to date her. She was beautiful. She was talented. She was a legend.



I was driving to meet my dad for lunch when I heard the news of her passing on the radio. It broke my heart. She was young (62) and her long battle with cancer must have been absolutely horrific. I can't even imagine what pain and sadness was going through her mind in the past week.



I hope she rests in peace.

And now...



I don't know about you, but the whole Michael Jackson suddenly dying thing was pretty random to me. I didn't even know he had that terrible of health conditions. I have mixed feelings about his passing. It seems that in life, he was so troubled, that perhaps death was a blessing for him. I hope it finally gives him the peace he deserves.

Like most people my age, I don't remember Michael Jackson as a superstar. By the time I was old enough to know what was going on around me (late 80s) he was gaining his creepy status and his skin had changed color. I knew he was a legend and listening to his music, I could tell he was a genius. But I never got to experience the amazing concerts, tacky fashion trends, and overall insanity of his status back then. Which is sad.

And I know he was weird and had a lot of shady things going on in his life, but I felt like the media backlash against him was too harsh. The cruel jokes on television...the cartoons...the clear lack of respect. The man was obviously troubled and disturbed, but nobody cared. That breaks my heart. No one should have to endure ridicule like that, especially if they are messed up.



But I think now that he is gone, his legend will be preserved as it was back when his career took off. We will always remember him for being the King of Pop. The glove. The moonwalk. Thriller.

May both of these Hollywood icons rest in peace.

Depressed ramblings and a blog award

I have been hopelessly depressed lately.

I haven’t been blogging about it too much because I don’t want to scare away my online friends. And I haven’t been talking about it much to my friends at home because I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer.

It just seems like everything in my life right now is falling apart. I spent every penny of my life savings a year ago on a car that wasn’t worth it. I am now spending the money I have saved since then to fix the car’s air conditioner. I don’t have a penny to my name.

But it’s not so much the money troubles that are bothering me. It’s everything else.

I’m clinging to a job that doesn’t excite me anymore and has no possibility of a financial rise.

I’m in love with someone who isn’t sure he ever wants to get married or have children.

Most of my close friends live in other parts of the country and my best friend who does live here has her own troubles.

I can’t even go home to cry.
My father disowned me the minute I moved out because a single girl living on her own is a shame to the family.
He’s disgusted with my job because it makes only a fraction of what he does in a month.
He thinks I’m fat.
He hates my boyfriend and tells me so every day.
And my mom doesn’t defend me. She’s so tired of it by now, she just lets him have at it.

In addition, I feel like I’m going through some kind of syndrome. The twenty-something girl’s syndrome? Nothing in my life is as it should be. When I was in high school, I had big plans and goals and dreams.
I imagined myself a young newlywed at 25. Or perhaps a glamorous fashion magazine writer, traveling the world for stylish feature stories.
But no, I’m stuck in a job I used to love. I’m a news reporter for a dying industry.
I’m nowhere close to getting married. I don’t think I’m ready yet anyway.
I’m just scared that if this road keeps winding in the direction I’m headed, I’m going to end up 40, single, and childless. Oh, and stuck in this same cubicle. And living in the same tiny apartment.

Fuck.

I’m sorry for rambling. If you were sweet enough to read this entire thing, I thank you tremendously. I just needed to get this off my chest.
Hopefully I can make a change in my life for the better, but I’m still looking for that opportunity to knock on my door…

On a happier note, I received this blog award from my dear friend Morena. She has an awesome blog and if you haven't already checked it out, I highly suggest you do.



I pass this award on to all my followers.

Thinking about Gia...

I partied way too much last night and today I paid for it.

I didn't know a hangover could last all freaking day. If this headache and grogginess and nausea continues, it looks like my week is going to get off to a horrible start.

And it kind of makes me wonder about people who feel this way every day. People who are addicted to alcohol or drugs...it just seems so sad that their only source of happiness is artificial. And when the high wears off, all they're left with is a sick hollow feeling.

Every time I think of things like that, my mind always goes to Gia Carangi.



For those who don't know (but I'm sure all of you do), Gia was one of the first supermodels. When the modeling industry was filled with blond-haired, blue-eyed smiling Barbie Dolls, Gia turned everything upside down. She introduced the modeling world to unusual poses, facial expressions, and gestures. I guess you could say she was America's Top Model.



She was only 17 when she started her explosive career. Unfortunately, a horrible heroin addiction developed while fame and fortune flourished. She craved the drug so badly she did sexual favors for it and was even raped by a drug dealer. She was sharing needles with strangers.



She eventually died from AIDS at the ripe old age of 26. It makes me want to cry just thinking about it. Just thinking about how a girl as beautiful as her could feel so lost and insecure as to get caught up in an addiction like that one. Just thinking about how promising her modeling career had been before she fucked it up. Just thinking about the waste of life.

And thinking about her life makes me appreciate mine. I will never touch drugs. I space my partying and my drinking binges. I notice life around me and appreciate it too much to throw it away.

Sometimes I just wish others felt the same...

Bunny time!

I want a rabbit.

I grew up having rabbits as pets. But for some reason, they keep coming to tragic demises under my care.

When I was four, I had two rabbits, Maple and Blondo. Maple ate Blondo. It was very sad.

When I was six, I had a rabbit, Miles, who drowned (his outdoor cage was next to our creek, which flooded).

When I was seven, I had another rabbit, Wabbit, who lived in the same cage and during a similar storm was struck by lightning and died.

When I was eleven, I had a rabbit named Ivory who was eaten by a fox.

When I was twelve I had a rabbit, Oreo, that got stuck behind our fridge and died.

When I was eighteen, I had a rabbit, Murphy, who attempted to run away but got stuck in our metal backyard fence and died.

When I was twenty-two I had a rabbit named Chuyia who was eaten by a hawk. (Chuyia had been tied to a tree for some exercise).

When I was twenty-four, I had a rabbit, Dusty, who ran away from home (she escaped from her leash on the tree) and we never heard from her again.

When I was twenty-five (one month ago or so) I tried to raise two baby wild rabbits, who eventually died two days later of starvation.

So clearly I have problems raising rabbits. But that doesn't stop me from loving them. They are my favorite animal.

Here are my two most recent rabbits:


Chuyia before the hawk ate her.


Dusty before she ran away.

Here are some rabbits I wish were mine:

My big fat Greek weekend

I spent the first half of my weekend with my parents. It wasn't a total migraine-inducing nightmare this time.

Besides playing tennis, watching old television shows, and arguing about useless crap, like we normally do, we also attended a charming little Greek festival held in a neighboring town. We go every year.

This year was like all the other years, which is okay, because it's usually quite quaint. We stood for an hour in the food line, which is like five miles long. Tired, sweaty, and starved, we finally arrived at the buffet. And what a buffet. Lines and lines of delicious, mouth-watering Greek cuisine. Buttery, fluffy pita bread stuffed with roasted lamb, fresh tomatoes, and creamy yogurt sauce. Tender grape leaves filled with minced meat and seasoned rice. Salads, mixed with crisp green lettuce, plump tangy olives, freshly grated feta cheese, sparkling cucumbers, and an olive oil dressing that will make you swoon. I could go on forever.



And don't even get me started on the dessert table. (Because this is bikini season, I will spare you those details. You're welcome).

While we stuffed our faces, we enjoyed a lively band playing traditional Greek songs and dancers, draped in colorful costumes. The beat was so catchy, I couldn't stop tapping my foot!



After every morsel was gone from our plates, my mom and I made a beeline for the little shopping booths. Since I am poor, I could only look. Sparkling diamond and sapphire necklaces twinkled in front of our eyes. I longed for a gorgeous flowing beige sundress I spotted, but sadly, I just couldn't afford it.

My mom pitied me and bought me this fab foot thong (except mine is pink):



Overall, it was a pleasant evening.

As for the rest of the weekend, I was unfortunately at work. I wasn't stuck in the office, however. I covered an early Father's Day makeover at a nearby salon and then interviewed a man at a nearby theme park after he walked 150 feet in the air on a metal wire (with NOTHING underneath to catch his fall). So it was mostly running around town for stories.

Not a bad weekend at all.
I hope everyone else had a pleasant one as well!

Fashion blog

Out of boredom...or fabulousness, my friend Kerrie and I created a new fashion blog, "Fab Heaven, Caj Nirvana."

We are also going by pseudonyms because we are awesome. Kerrie is Caj; I'm Fab.

The blog is going to consist of our wonderful shopping adventures, fashion tips, fashion disasters, features on interesting designers, profiles of our style icons, and whatever else we find insanely cool.

It is still a work in progress. But like most blogs, it will take time to grow.

Since we both love writing in our personal blogs, it seemed like a natural fit to go into a fashion one together. (After all, Kerrie, er, Caj, is studying fashion design in college and I'm a journalist. You can't get a more perfect combination than that.)

I hope you guys like it and check it out once in a while.

And I will still be here too, obviously. This is my home. The fashion site will be my vacation. Ha.

Enjoy!

www.fabulous-nirvana.blogspot.com

I'm a Kate Moss mess

I am stuck in a funk and I need to get out.
Like, right now.

It seems my winter blues have turned into spring blues and now they are alarmingly close to becoming summer blues. I must not let this happen.

Summer is too bright and cheerful and warm and happy for me to be feeling so glum.

What's even worse is that I don't care about what I look like anymore. I looked in the mirror three days ago and screamed.

I am a wreck.

My gorgeous designer summer dresses are still packed away. I haven't even touched my Jimmy Choos or Kate Spades in ages.

Today I went to work wearing my boyfriend's gigantic button down white long-sleeve shirt and a pair of torn blue jeans. I also wore his watch. I had huge dark circles under my eyes and I was so dazed, I forgot to brush my hair.

My hair looked like this (not kidding):



Sure, my look sounds very Kate Moss, but remember, I went like this to WORK.

My editor took me aside and (to my horror) told me about our company's counseling program.

Unfortunately, I can't afford to go. It's very sad.

I think I just need to get my act together. Start going to the gym and get my blood pumping. Stop drinking so much (four nights in a row, woke up to find an empty bottle of Chianti on my night stand), and quit being so dazed.

I swear the days just go by in a blur. Sometimes I will just sit somewhere and stare into space and not care about anyone or anything. Because nothing matters.

I wish I had money. I think shopping would cure my blues...

In all honesty...

One of my favorite bloggers, La Femme Chic, gave me this award. :)



10 Honest things about myself:

1) I am of Indian, Swedish, German, and British descent.

2) I have never met anyone on my dad's side of the family. I don't even know their names.

3) I was addicted to pain killers my junior and senior year of high school. To this day, my parents still hide any kind of pills around their house and it's a hassle to even get an aspirin.

4) I once went two years without wearing a pair of pants. I only wore skirts and dresses. Everyone thought I was nuts.

5) I have been to 14 different schools and my family has moved 13 times around the country.

6) My high school sweetheart turned out to be gay. He didn't come out until college.

7) I hate green peppers.

8) I have never dyed my hair, yet it is a mixture of red, blonde, and black strands. Together, it looks completely brown.

9) My mom and I got our noses pierced in a seedy little tattoo parlor a couple years ago after I went through a hellish breakup.

10) I always get mistaken for 16 and I hate it. (I'm 25).

I give this award to:

Planet Plum
Chic Heroin
Limadean
That's All
Qin at the Disco
Tia Cherie
Couture Carrie


Requirements:
- I must thank the person who gave me the award and list their blog and link it
- I must list 10 honest things about myself
- I must put a copy of The Honest Scrap Logo on my blog.
- I must select at least 7 other worthy bloggers & list their links
- I must notify the bloggers of the award and hopefully they will follow the above three requirements also.

My six favorite things...

I've been feeling kind of blue lately. And not a fab sky blue that sparkles with the sun, but a more sickly pale blue that keeps getting darker and more dreary as time goes on...

My car's air conditioner is shot and I can't afford to fix it (gonna cost $500-700). I can stand these 80-something degree days now but when July brings those 100-something degree days, I'm not quite sure how I'm going to survive in traffic without getting a heat stroke.

And our phones are down at work, which sucks because I am a journalist. So for the past two months I have been using my cell phone for interviews. My phone bill is usually 50 bucks per month, but due to my interviewing, my bill for last month came as $400. So that's where my money went, which I could have used towards my car. It's all very sad. Especially since my company cannot afford (we just had five massive lay offs) to reimburse me for my cell phone bill. Which really, really sucks.

But I don't want to pass along my troubles to you. Just a head's up on why I've been MIA lately.

I was lucky enough to be tagged by the fabulous Couture Carrie with the Six (un)Important Things That Make You Happy.

Here are my six:

1. Funky, glamorous eccentric cocktail rings

2. Pedicures



3. Hummus



4. Flowing white dresses



5. Bubble tea



6. Chick lit


What are your favorite things?

Talk to the hand!

A blogger friend of mine recently posted a video on her site that took me back. Way back.

When I was a dorky high school sophomore, I stepped into the new millennium, leaving the 90s behind. Or so I thought. But listening to the cheesy beat of the Macarena brought back a wave of memories. And because I know you all give a damn, I'm going to list them right here.

"How Rude!"



Like most 90s kids, I was a television addict. Not many people had internet or cell phones. If you didn't like the beautiful outdoors, you had Uncle Jesse in a box. I'm surprised how many times little 9-year-old me watched Full House without realizing how gay it really was. And before I was ten, I also knew the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air song by heart and had memorized all the Saved by the Bell characters and their life stories.


"I was surfing the crimson wave. I had to haul ass to the ladies'."


Words cannot describe how obsessed I used to be with Clueless when I was 11 years old. I yearned to see the movie so bad but my parents wouldn't let me. That made it even more vital that I see it. So my friend Megan and I pretended to go see a talking pig movie and snuck into the Clueless theater.
Oh. My. God.
The fashion. The sass. The wit.
That movie changed my life. And I still long to be a 1995 Alicia Silverstone.

"Although we've come to the end of the road..."

When we were 12, my friend Megan was dating an eighth grader. He was taking her to the sixth grade spring dance. It was a pretty big deal. To make me feel better, she found his friend, Mark, a seventh grader, who agreed to become my boyfriend at 2:15 p.m. that day. I sat in math class, staring at the clock. And when the short hand hit the two and the long hand hit the three, my heart skipped a beat. I had a boyfriend! My very first! I wondered what he looked like. More importantly, what was I going to wear to the dance that night?
I ended up wearing a dark green velvet top with ripped sleeves and a denim mini skirt. I thought I looked hot at the time but old photos prove otherwise.
And when I met scrawny little Mark on the dance floor, "End of the Road" by Boys II Men was playing. We slow danced and then I hugged him and then I ran off to meet my friends. I never saw Mark again.

Spice Girls Phenomenon

Holy hell.


While a huge part of me has no desire to go back to the brace face with zits, I can't help but feel a tinge of longing for the 90s. It was a pretty cool decade to be a kid. Life was a little more simple. I didn't waste my life away with text messaging. I wasn't twittering at the age of 12. I bought CDs at the mall with friends, rather than downloading them alone on the internet. Movies, music, and television were cheesy as hell and we loved it. We didn't take anything seriously.

Life was fun.