Consider yourself warned.

Have you ever watched or listened to something somewhere where you knew no good can come out of it because you'll laugh? Or what's worse/lamer is when you just remember a funny thing? I distinctly remember being in 8th grade and constantly recalling what happened during lunch or whatever and having to put my head down in class and just shake uncontrollably, desperatly trying to calm down and catch my breath. This dumb habit has stuck with me. I remember being in a Pro-Tools class battling with some guy next to me, making faces at each other JUST to make the other person laugh. We found out the best way to stop laughing was to pinch your nose and just stop breathing. It gives you time to cool down and revert your attention to what you needed to pay attention to in the first place. The whole lack of oxygen to the brain thing really makes you think, ironically enough. Ok, so now comes today. I get an email. I click. I end up not only hunched over and shaking, I started desperatly trying to clutch my nose and then my mouth. When that didn't work, I actually tried to strangle myself. I was in such a bad, painful laugh I thought if I try to inflict injury, it will divert my attention. No such luck. Now I'm bruised on my inner arms. And I will never click on an email link again...yeah right. Who am I kidding? I love crap like this.

Meet me in Montauk

Football season is now upon us, and this season I have decided I’m going to be hardcore. I’ve always liked watching football, and have been known to yell at television sets (especially in sports bars) but I’ve never really had a team of my own. I usually rooted for the underdog or better yet, during the whole U.S.C. vs. Longhorns game, I rooted for the Longhorns. I think I was the only one in Los Angeles to root for Texas. That may have been the sweetest win, too. Well, anywho, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need an actual team to root for this season. I have narrowed it down to three teams, giving me a better chance to have a team in the Super Bowl, and therefore me yelling at the TV. I am ready to jump on the New England bandwagon because (and yes, this was the actual reasoning) I’ve never met a clam chowder I didn’t like. Except Manhattan clam chowder, blech. I am also considering the Buccaneers. ‘Cause they’re pirates. They’ll fight for a just cause, just ‘cause. The third team, I feel, was chosen because I decided to go classic Americana. The Dallas Cowboys. How very J. Crew of me.
I think I totally got my bases covered. I think I have a fighting chance to make it all the way to the Super Bowl this year. I think I need my friends to humor me by going with me to Hooters, drinking beer, and chowing on wings.

I mutate it my way!

If I were to have an esophagus that became irritated, I would be pissed. If I had an esophagus that became MUTATED I would be overjoyed. I already decided what I want my esophagus to mutate into. An awesome robot that sings Frank Sinatra songs. Can I choose what I want my mutated esophagus to turn into? I would be so sad if it turned into a basketball. I hate basketball. And chances are I would dribble all over. BA ZING!

Tanner is wise beyond his three years

Last night one of my friends spent the night. This means I have to entertain someone else in the morning and not just entertain myself. Well, in my half-sleep/ half awake state, I started telling her a story about when I was five. My mom had closed an account and had all these blank checks that were useless, so she gave them to me to play with. I’m sure she thought I was going to write checks to the grocery store, or the mechanic or somewhere where I actually saw her write checks. She was more than a little amused when she saw that I wrote out a check for one million dollars to Toys ‘R’ Us. When she asked me why I wrote it out to there, I calmly stated that it was because I liked toys. Now, if I base this little episode on my nephew Tanner’s logic, that means that I was, in fact, a little kid and not the young lady I was constantly reminded to behave like. My mom still has the check. I still like toys.

road rage is all the rage

I never get mad at who I should get mad at. In fact, when I used to see a therapist (long story, sad story, not a blog story) she said that the reason I have road rage is because I am not able to tell the people in my life how mad they make me, so I take it out on random people that I know I’ll never see again anyway. Ok, this little tidbit of info was made relevant again on Friday. After a bad day at work that left me feeling defeated and deflated, I walked to my car. When I get off of work now, it’s dark. So here I am, this angry little girl, walking to my car in the dark. As I’m walking, there were about five teenage boys walking down the street. One was skateboarding, one was wearing ridiculously tight pants, and the others were just there. In other words, mad Natasha was not scared. As I approach my car, they had to walk past me, and one of these teenage hooligans said, “ hello there young lady.” Wow, what a nice chap. I’m sure he didn’t expect me to yell back, “ I’m old enough to be your mother!!!” and slam the door to my car. As I’m sitting in my car asking myself why the hell I did that, I turn the car on, and much to my chagrin, I started blaring Jay- Z rapping about ladies being pimps too, and getting that dirt off your shoulder. I’m sure they want me as their mother now.

The Lovers, The Dreamers, and Me

When I decided I was going to go to Art Center, I kinda went into creativity overload. I was constantly analyzing movies, dreaming up commercials and music videos in my head, writing stories and scripts, etc, etc, etc. It got so intense at one point, my friends couldn’t stand to be around me cause I was speaking as though I was a cartoon. Not voice wise, but as in talking about anvils falling and dodging raindrops and slipping on banana peels. (Okay, that last one wasn’t so cartoony, but I’m not in that mode anymore, so lay off.) Well, during that period, I came up with something that still “haunts” me. I came up with this kick ass music video for the Gorillaz song “ Dare.” I mean I came up with the choreography, the characters (it was a bear dancing and singing with daisies… I’m not going into specifics. I still may do it) and all of the main shots, lighting and location. I was a woman obsessed! So, every time I hear the song, even now, I picture my video, and not the horrible one that the band actually put out for it.
I honestly thought I was the only person who did this. Last night at dinner though, I was informed that not only am I not the only person that does this, but that their “video” is all they picture when they hear the song too. And now, when I hear the song (which for some reason was a TON of times today) all I can “see” is their interpretation for it. And their rendition, even if it only really exists in my head, is 10 times better than the actual video for the song.

Sorry Dad

So this morning, as I was getting ready for work, a couple neurons in my brain started rapidly firing. The memory that they conjured up made me realize I am way cooler than even I thought. So as I get ready, I listen to my music on random. A song I didn’t remember I had came on.
Ok, first back story…last summer I went to Greece. During my trip, I found out that The Bloodhound Gang is HUGE there. Like massively huge. All I really knew of them was The Bad Touch and that Fire Water Burn song. But the song that was being played at all the bars and stuff was new and was actually kind of good. I blamed the ouzo. So when I came back to the states, I was really sad that they never played The Bloodhound Gang. I downloaded a couple of their songs and changed my Myspace page around, including making my song a BHG song and wrote a bulletin about it. I got a tad OCD about them.
Back to this morning…a BHG song came on my random itunes thingy. I forgot how much I liked them. So I went to their website to see when their next album was coming out. They had a new video. They had a new song. I listened to the new song. I loved the new song. They are apparently on tour. I looked to see when they would be coming to a town near me. They aren’t. Apparently Evil Jared Hasselhoff (who is my Myspace friend…OCD) refuses to come to the states until George Dubya is out of office. (He lives in Germany…OCD) I got sad, felt defeated by Dubya, (again) and put my itunes back to random. Soundgarden came on.
Second back-story…when I was 14 I saw Soundgarden in their last ever Los Angeles concert. It was an okay concert considering the company I was with. (Megan, I’m looking at you) It was sponsored by K-ROQ and that’s where I met Carson Daly. (That’s another story unto itself!) Okay, so since it was being sponsored, K-ROQ brought some up and coming band. I hated the band. They were uber frat-boyesk and only into the ladies with big fake boobs. (I was 14…I don’t know why I was comparing myself, but I did.) Then they played one song that I actually knew. My friend and I got excited like giddy little girls and started screaming along since we could yell out “burn mother fucker, burn.”
Back to this morning…when I realized this, I actually said out loud, “ Holy shit! I did see them live.” And then I got jealous of myself. I am too cool, son.