My Many "Talents" Part I

There are some things I have a talent for...but I am not sure if "talent" is the right word to use. I guess they are just strange things that always seem to happen to me. Judge for yourself!

1. Lost Luggage
Almost every time I am on an airplane, my bags are lost! This is a horrible thing and I absolutely hate it. The worst was when I came back from a summer interning in France. My bags sat in the Frankfurt airport for fucking days! All my clothes were in those two bags and everything else I owned was in storage. And when I finally got my bags back, over $700 worth of gifts were missing! I was really pissed.

2. Attracting All the Weirdos
This also is not a good thing. Wherever I go, so does every crazy in the city. In Europe, I had some insane guy chase me down an alley offering me an envelope full of money...not cool. On St. Patrick's y Day an odd Irish guy with teeth that were definitely the product of the British health care system (EWWWW) would not leave me alone! He kept trying to talk to me about how he has photographed all these famous people and would not stop looking at my nonexistent cleavage. And when he wasn't trying to talk to me, every homeless man in Santa Monica was! This past weekend some old guy my dad's again wanted to take me back to Greece with him...and then there was the time in Oxford when an angry Englishman punched me and knocked me out after I rejected him...and the many stalkers I've had...so not cool.

3. Shopping
This is a good thing. No matter what you are looking for, I can tell you where to buy it! Whenever a friend needs a dress or suit, I am their woman and know exactly what store to go to. I also pride myself on always having the exact perfect pair of shoes and hand bag to accessorizes any fashion ensemble. At times, I have been known to find incredible deals- $17 designer dresses, $45 stilettos, $20 jeans...it truly is a gift!

4. Adventures with Emmers the Great
Emily, one of my girls from Toronto, and I always manage to have fun and cause some trouble when we are together. Whether we are having a night of debauchery on the town or a night in with the porn on good ole CBC, there is always some great story to go with it...which leads me to my next skill...

5. The Stories
Along with my shopping skills, I am also know among my peeps for having the best stories. Only I can turn a simple trip to the gym into an hour-long tale of random trials and tribulation. I can spend the whole car ride to Palo Alto recounting just a small portion of my epic narratives of the past 24 years.

Hells yeah, this baby's got a Hemi!

I survived the first week of my new job! Yay! The company was sold on my first day, so it got off to an interesting start. I also got my company car- a Jeep Commander! It's huge and has just about every option known to man- navigation, satellite radio, leather, camera...and a Hemi! So not only is it big, it's fast. It is black with tinted windows and has more chrome than I have ever seen in my life- it looks like it came from a rap video...I feel like a bad-ass pimp when I drive it! It's great! The one bad thing is this tank gets about ten miles per gallon...but then again, I'm not paying for gas, so I don't care!

Everyone I work with is nice, but on average about ten or fifteen years older than me. I feel very young. I met some of the other district managers today, and I am the only one under the age of thirty and one of the few women. It is a very strange situation for me. I am used to being one of the younger ones, but I am by far and away the baby! Many of these men are my dad's age! It does make me feel almost like a spy or something- I have successfully infiltrated the Old Boys' Club of the automotive world! This week I have my first business trip- a few days of golf and the 2008 Chrysler, Jeep, and Dodge line-up in Laguna Beach!

On another note, I am finding Orange County to be a very weird place. It is very suburban and mostly families live here. Anyone my age is married with a baby carriage and everyone female over the age of eighteen has HUGE breast implants! I am afraid that some of them will burst or poke the wearer in the eye! They are kinda disgusting because they don't really move- they just sit there no matter what the rest of the body is doing.

Yesterday I went to the market after the gym. I was gross and sweaty in my workout clothes, with no make-up and my hair pulled back. And this kid came up to me and asked me what I was doing for prom! He thought I was in high school! I told him I was a little to old to be going to prom. It's nice to know I still look young!

My Mother's Italian, My Father's Jewish, and I'm in Therapy!

I saw an advertisement for the Off-Broadway play "My Mother's Italian, My Father's Jewish, and I'm in Therapy!" And for some reason, I was able to identify with the title, as all parts hold true for me. My mom comes from an Italian Roman Catholic family and my dad comes from a Russian-Polish Jewish family...so that makes me a Cashew! And I am in therapy...but that's a whole other story!

For the most part, the two sides of the family get along great. I think part of the reason is because the Jewish and Italian cultures are so similar and have many shared values. My grandmothers were so much a like and were very close friends. The problem is not the relationship between the two sides of my family, but within each side. Whenever there are family gatherings, there never fails to be some sort of drama or fight. My mom's brother and sister hate each other. My aunt gets pissed off when we see my uncle and she's not told in advanced, yet she refuses to see him. My mom's aunt just hates everyone. My dad's sister managed to piss everyone off. My dad's father divorces his mother a long time ago, and his new wife always gets in a fight with someone. So, between the two families, I never know what to expect!

This is the abbreviated, light, short version of the Kleiman Family, but I think you get the picture. You can imagine my shock when I went home for a visit that everyone got along! One of my sisters graduated from university, so my parents had a party for us, as I graduated a month or so ago. My mom's siblings played nice together, and my grandmother behaved herself, although her appearance was brief. None the less, it was surprising WWIII didn't break out.

Overall, the trip back East was good- short and sweet! TO was fun, and Fairport was...Fairport. I was happy to see my family and my sister graduate. Now she is off to Oregon where she will be interning for the government. She will be working on an Indian Reservation tracking plant life...riiiiiiiiiiiiiight. And my other sister will be home for the summer. She goes to F.I.T. in Manhattan. How different can we be and still be related?!?! I was really happy that I was able to be home for Mother's Day, or at least part of it.

It is always difficult for me to come home because I hate leaving. It isn't that I don't want to leave, but I get the world's biggest guilt trip from my parents! They always say how much they miss me and don't get to see me enough and just go on and on and on. And I feel so bad because I hardly every go home. It's hard to actually WANT to go to a small suburb outside of Rochester, New York, when you live in SoCal! There is nothing to do. I feel like I am in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, there are like cows and farms and lots of trees and no traffic! The shopping and nightlife suck. But I go because I love my family.

Oooot and Aboooot in Toronto, eh!

As always, my trip to Toronto was a wonderful and interesting one. I stayed with my partner in crime, Emily (or who I like to call Emmers the Great because she is). Whenever the two of us are together, we have so much fun and manage to cause some trouble. This visit was no exception.

Now that we are both no longer living in the T-dot, we have a greater appreciation for the city and how much we love it. As soon as we got off the subway and walked on to the street, we both looked at each other and said, "Ahhh, Toronto! We are home!" We hit some of our favorite stores and bars in our old stomping ground.

It felt so good to be back in the city I love. I guess the only way to explain the role Toronto has in my life is to compare to New York City in "Sex and the City." It has almost taken on a persona of its own. Whenever I go back and visit, I feel like I am seeing an old friend. Even when there are new stores and buildings, I still know my way and feel comfortable...like I never left. At the same time, there are things about the city that piss me off, like the flaws of a person. It gets cold and icy in the winter. The Maple Leafs haven't made it to the playoffs since before the strike. When it gets humid, there are smog warnings. But, as with someone you love, you look past the flaws to embrace to finer qualities. Great shopping, great bars, and great people.

Whenever I think of Toronto, I am overcome with memories of university and the people who helped make my four years as meaning as they were. I remember the stress and pressure I felt from my calc and com sci classes first year, and I remember the feeling of accomplishment when I turned in my thesis on the American response to the humanitarian crisis in Darfur, which was my last mark for U of T. I remember the fear of writing my first exam and the joy of writing my last. Whenever I walk through Queen's Park, I remember those morning runs I got up really early for so I could see Matthew McConaughey practice chi-chee...and all the drunken stumbles home back to residence!

I also have the most incredible group of friends who have shared these moments and many more with me. They have been there to support me through the most difficult time in my life. They have seen me at rock bottom and at the top of the world.

Each time I go back to Toronto, it reminds me of how much I love the city and how lucky I am to have my friends.

In the words of Gwen Stefani- I'm Just An Orange County Girl

I somehow managed to pack up my 57 pursues, 217 pairs of shoes, 34 skirts (...yeah, you get the point- I have a lot clothes and accessories) and move to the OC! It's different from LA County. I mean there is still traffic, but it seems more residential and newer. The people here are different, too. Much less Hollywood. And there seems to be two categories- 1. The Rich and Beautiful, 2. The Poor and Ugly. Either you are extremely good looking and drive a fast German car, or you are trashy and drive around in a pick-up truck or mini-van. I do not fall into either category, although I wish I belonged to the first...maybe someday after I've made my millions that will buy that hot car and pay for my plastic surgery, but for now I am in my own category.

I am doing about a good a job of unpacking as I did packing. Yesterday, I went to Calabasas to get the rest of my things. Then to Santa Monica for the gym and yoga. And then back here. But of course I did not unpack. I had to explore the local shopping opportunities. Next, I discovered the horrible, zombifying force known as DIGITAL CABLE! I have never been much of a television watcher (aside from Grey's Anatomy and Project Runway, as well as the occasional C-SPAN and E! at the gym). And as a student, I have had little time to go to movies. So when I made the discovery that my new condo has all these premium movie channels, I got sucked in. Game over. I lost, HBO won. I don't think I have ever watched so much TV at one time when I wasn't sick! Mind you, I am only talking about four hours and during most of those four hours I was doing other extremely productive things, such as talking on the phone. And then today I hit the gym and worked on my tan. Contrary to popular belief, it is work! It is hard to get that perfect, even tan (or in my case burn). It must be timed precisely and take many variables into consideration, such as time of day, angle of the sun, nearby bodies of water, splashing children, and attractive males.

Now I am actually doing a little unpacking, but that is only because I need to pack for my trip back East. God, I feel like all I do is pack, unpack, pack, unpack! I also need more storage for my extensive wardrobe. The one measly closet is not enough for a fashionista such as myself. So why bother unpacking until I've gotten back from Toronto and New York, and I have a place to put things!

Speaking of the trip back East, I am very excited! I am going to Toronto for a few days to visit with my friends, shop, and cause some drunken trouble with the Girlies. The Girlies and I always manage to consume one too many shots of tequilla and then have crazy adventures. I can't wait to see what we do this time! And then I am off to New York! One of my sisters is graduating from university and the whole fam wants to see me. Family get-togethers are always an interesting experience. Let me just say that my immediate family is very functional, it's just the extended family on both sides that's fucked up. It never fails for a fight to break-out on holidays, weddings, funerals, or other events that require families to gather together. I am looking forward to the trip, but I don't know what to expect. At least I know I will be well dressed!

Pep-talks with Daddy- Heartless bitch versus Strong, Dumb blonde versus Intimidating Intelligence?

So, my parents are great (as seen in the picture). I always have a great time with them and appreciate their and support. But sometimes my dad will give me these pep-talks and I am not always sure what to make of them.

Pep-talk I
As I have mentioned before, I don't form strong emotional attachments to people. I move on and get over things. I have never cried over a boy. Even when my ex-boyfriend of three years broke-up with me via email (which is almost as bad as a Post-It), I didn't cry. When I found out I was married with a kid and had cheated on me, I didn't cry then either. I am brutally honest, almost to a fault, because I would rather tell the truth than spare someone's feelings. On numerous occasions, this had lead my friends and those close to me to tell me that I am a Heartless Bitch. I am close with my dad, so I told him this during one of our many phone conversations. After what I can only imagine was a few minutes of contemplation over silence, he said, "Oh sweetie, it's not that you are heartless, it's just that you are strong!" He went on to tell me that this was nothing to be upset about and my mental toughness is something to take pride in. And those who tell me that I am heartless are really just jealous of my inner strength. It shows that I have a strong sense of self. I think being strong is much better than being a Heartless Bitch. Now whenever I am called a Heartless Bitch, I say that I am not heartless, just strong! And you are just jealous of my inner strength!

Pep-talk II
This little Pep-talk left me a bit miffed, to be honest. (Miffed, what a strange word is that?!?! I don't sound 24 when I use that word, but I like it anyway. It also means discombobulated, petulant, vexed, unbrageous, and piqued, which are also all excellent words.) He wanted to give me some advice about the corporate world so I wouldn't make the same mistakes he made. Now, this starts out all nice and good. He tells me that there will be some people I will work with who do not like me and will do everything to see that I do not succeed. My dad said I need to ignore it, as hard as it might be, and rise above it to let me stellar performance speak for itself. As a District Manager, I would be working with Daimler Chrysler dealership and analyzing performance, helping them to identify areas of improvement, help them improve, blah blah blah. He went on to tell me that he thought I would get along great with the dealership owners, who are primarily older white males. So far, so good. He then went on to say that the other DMs would hate me!!! Not so good. He said that because I am a young, blonde, female the dealership owners would love me, but this is also the reason the other DMs would hate me. My dad said that "once they realize how smart you are it will shock them and they won't like it and won't want you to do well. They will not expect you to be so smart because of how you look." Hmmm, so basically my dad told me that I look like I am a dumb blonde, but because I am not, people won't like me. Talk about a left-handed compliment! I am not sure what to make of this one. At least he didn't call me stupid, only that I look stupid.

All that being said, I found the Pep-talks valuable. My dad is great and understands me like no one else. But I think we share the same fault- we are strong and brutally honest!

Moving

For the past week or so I have been "packing." And by "packing" I mean I say that I am going to sort through and organize everything I own, throw out the stuff I don't want, and put the rest into boxes. The key phrase here is the "I say that I am going to." Thus far, I have been incredibly unsuccessful. I keep finding things I would rather be doing. This is far worse than my procrasti-studying with excessive cleaning. At least then I was being productive. Now I am just doing things like writing in my blog and painting my toe nails.

I am not sure why I am putting it off for so long. I'm not sad to be moving or scared or anything. I think that it's just not the most fun thing in the world. This time last year I was getting ready to move to France, and two years ago I was getting ready to move out of my place in Toronto. A lot of people get sad or scared when it's time to move. They don't want to leave the friends and life they have built for themselves behind, or go somewhere new and different. These things don't bother me...maybe because I have moved so much in life and haven't had the same address for more than three or four years ever.

Moving around so much has taught me a lot. I know that I will stay in touch with the people in my life who are important and meaningful to me. These are the people that I don't say goodbye to, but rather tell them I am looking forward to the next time we see each other. I see moving to a new place where I don't know anyone as an adventure! I get to leave all the bad things about my past behind and only bring the good to my new life. It means there will be all new shops, restaurants, bars, and places to discover and new people to meet. I have never really formed strong emotional connections to people and don't have a problem leaving the old friends behind to make new ones. I normally meet people and make friends easily, so going someplace new alone doesn't scare me. It also give me some time to just be alone with me, which I do enjoy from time to time.

Moving is not the end to an old life, but the beginning of a new one.