People Are Stupid

You may have noticed the title of this post: "People are Stupid." My prime example and the driving force behind this sentiment is a person that I, and only I, call "me." (Others may say "Alyson," "Al," "her," or "you" [depending on who they are talking to])

• My blog is called Alyson of L.A., yet there is a picture of San Francisco as the header.
• This is the blog that I linked to my anonymous twitter account. I mean, Alyson of L.A.? Could I have gotten any more specific? One could easily figure out which Alyson is writing here to you right now, and by backward investigation, uncover the identity of the mysterious (and offensive) enigma, @grumpybartender) There can't be more than 10,000 Alysons in the city. All it would take is a little dedication and a sprinkle of obsession, and poof: I'm found out.
• Final act of stupidity: My remedies for the stupid acts fore-declared are stupid, which calls for another remedy, sending me endlessly spiraling into infinite stup (pronounced stoop).

I solved the San Francisco header problem by moving to San Francisco, so, while accurate as an autobiographical illustration (in the, less commonly used, dipictionary sense of the word), it still leaves the Title/Picture contradiction perfectly intact, and adds yet another unresolved spiral to this very entry.

My corrective measure for the explosive divulgence of my no-longer-secret character on twitter was to come clean to my followers about my true self, right here and now, which is information I regret confessing before I confess it (a mere twist, or another full circle?), as I realize the non-stupid thing to do would be to unlink the unknown and the known selves. This lack of privacy exposes me for the blasphemy against the employer that gives me my only muse about which to tweet, and will inevitably terminate all access (and employment) to subject matter worth writing, and in turn destroying the once-concealed personality and myself all at once (because it is the same person).

I, being a singular (well, double in this case) representative of people, having destroyed my own selves in a backwards, circular, absurd, and unnecessary manner, am true proof that people are stupid.

Meme

I think I am going to commit to a 10-day meme, even though I do not really know what a meme is, but nobody really reads this blog anyway!

Corny as it sounds, I need practice being more internet-y. I mean, I had to google "what does SMH stand for?" SMH.

The fact is, we are all self-obsessed and like talking about, dwelling on, and sharing with the world, ourselves.

So here is my first experience with being a part of 2010 with most everybody else.

A never-meant-to-be-seen preface to a pointless thought-spewing entry:

It's Not That I'm Cheating, We just Have a Different Kind of Relationship!

TheBestAlysonInTheWorld.Tumblr.Com

Some people write pointless and uninteresting blogs. I should be allowed too.

Today I realized something that shocks me how long it took me.
The signs were all there. Blindly, I found myself in the same bad situation over and over, yet didn't learn the lesson I was meant to learn.
Trust your instincts, people!
I realized today I just plain don't like omelettes! I like the idea of them, they always sound good. But when I get them in front of me, I am constantly reasoning with myself "oh, I just didn't get the right combination of ingredients in that bite, the next one will be good." "Maybe it needs salt," "ihop should really stick to pancakes"
It just doesn't make sense! I like eggs, I like mushrooms, I like cheese. I even like them together! Maybe I will give it another chance... Should I?

Calling All Fatties!!!

I am tempted to create a "Show Your Skin Day" (cause obviously if i create it, it'll catch on like wildfire and the world will be changed forever. It's just a matter of me deciding to make it happen or not) which is a day where everybody wears the littlest amount of clothes possible. EVERYBODY!!

Now before you sickos start reaching for your camera phones, before a religious mob starts chasing me with rods of fire and wooden stakes, and above all before you "flawed" beauties start panicking about people seeing your body, read on.

What's shameful is not the body you were born with, or the body that expresses your experience, joys, pains, and life until now-- but the fact that you carry on this message that it's not good enough.

For some of you, the only thing you will eat up is some bullshit about looking perfect that you are fed. Why don't you feel guilty about eating that? That person who, instead of thinking for themself, buys what the media sells (media [TV, print, movies]-- all systems which are known to be bad and NOT in the interest of the viewer...evil!!) is permeating that belief to others, maybe younger people or someone who looks up to him/her. The media plants the seed and like blind followers we water it! (If I believed in "shoulds" I would say:) You should literally look at yourself and be ashamed that you are promoting this hatred and judgement. It's embarassing-- your backwards heirarchy of priorities (moral beliefs being lower than appearances) makes you more vain than spiritual, intellectual, or unique. Who wants to be that?! Lets's change it up and live in love, tolerance, acceptance, satisfaction, joy, appreciation, and beauty! Real beauty.

I'm calling all of you out! If you want to make a change, let's get naked! And let us appreciate diversity!

I'm Letting My Insensitivity Out For One Sentence

Why, the sudden urge to blog when you have a baby? Maybe I will find out later. Probably not, because after having a puppy, I no longer want a parasitic organism that is depending on me for life, while similtaneously destroying mine. I might just let go one day....
Just kidding, I'm not that evil (not as evil as my dog is).

Alcohol abuse made me push a button in my car.

As many of you know, I am the proud and loving owner of a midnight blue '07 Nissan Altima. Among the many features this gangster magnet on wheels has, there is the option to choose what is displayed on the dash.. This week I changed the display from my usual xx miles-left-until-you-run-out-of-gas to the current temperature in farenheit. I think this is a hugely symbolic event and a growth that came very unexpectedly.

When I got back from this latest tour I had grown so much. I have learned a lot from living in a myriad of large vehicles for a month a time. Each tour, I change a little for the better, or grow up in a good way. This last tour, however, was, in my classification, party like you're fifteen again. I thought this was my break-from-positive-growth tour. Wrong. Dead wrong.

In my alcohol induced mornings of horrification and despair of life, I desperately turned to google for help. I googled "the meaning of life,""why,""unrequited love," and more, but one thing I came upon was the law of attraction. Lost, lonely, and searching for a purpose and somewhere to belong, I hooked on and suckled. I read about thinking positively, and that true happiness comes from having a lot of money. Google told me if I think good changes will come, then they will. I started to practice changing my thinking.. And it worked.
When I got home for some strange reason (probably the spirit of the law of attraction) I was divinely inspired to see the temperature every day when I drive instead of how much gas I have left. I wanted to see "now" instead of "you're goin down soon homie, unless you can come up with some cheddar."
Things are turning up for me! All that morning-after misery has lead me to this gigantically different life I am leading today. I'm very excited about my new life as a instantaneoous-meteorologist.

Deeming Shia LaBeouf my EX future husband (not saying if I had the chance I wouldn't....)

Things I am supposed to be doing:

Writing a letter to my landlord

Watching "Yoga for New Beginners" on Youtube.com and hopefully following along

Getting prepared for a heinous tour through the Colorado Rockies during El Nino (something I still do not know exactly what is)

Working on myself

What I am actually doing:
While this is actually productive because I learned for sure how to pronounce Shia LaBeouf's name (having heard it from his mouth), I have forsaken all of my intended day's activities to watch Shia Lebouf videos on youtube.com (just bare with me.. I am still working on accepting that "You Tube" is an agreed upon unobjectionable word).
As much as I would like to be a postitive thinker and believe in "The Secret" that anything I imagine will come true, I also-- for the sake of my fragile, dragged through the mud, and repeadedly patched up heart-- must be what us negative thinkers diplomatically call ourselves, a realist. Tonight my mission is to convince my Disney-movie-conditioned mind that the chances of me ever meeting Shia LaBeouf are scant (although maybe its a sign that my love at first sight for him took place on the Disney channel). Its just so hard because I know he is the perfect man for me. Physically, he has my 2 it-doesn't-matter-who-you-are-I'm-sold traits: uneven front teeth and hazel eyes. And his personality is flawless. From what I hear through TMZ, he has the mouth of a sailor and is kinda a loner. What else would one need to know? Anyway I think I might be straying from my mission. How to convince myself to move on from the imagined happiness and fulfillment that being with him would bring?

Be on alert for a missing bad dog!

Today I got home to find that my precious, beloved, horrible pet dog was missing. She must have been dog-napped which is probably my payback because I, myself, dog-napped her to begin with.
The perpetrator was very sneaky, because all of my doors were locked before I left and were still locked when I got back! He or she must have come in through a window or something. I cannot believe this. Here is a picture incase you see her...

She answers to the name of Tramp... She will respond to "Shark Week" as well.
I need to find out who did this to me...
Even worse-- as some sort of cruel and disgusting form of torment-- that sick, porch-hopping crook who carried this out placed another dog in my house to taunt me!
This dog looks EXACTLY the same as Tramp (AKA Shark Week), however it is not her. This dog is a good dog. Gentle, calm, obedient. She's not even a shark minute.



Who is this good dog and what have they done with my bad dog?

Update: The fly

I got 'im!

Help me find a stage name!

I feel like a real blogger for the first time in my life...I finally posted my first entry on my originally intended blog (not this one), The Knockabout.

Tonight's events leading up to my first real blog post:

1. The virtual roommate moves my computer into my room against my will.
2. Cooked a hardboiled egg for my amazing Greekly inspired Israeli Salad.. maybe I'll post a recipe, or maybe I'll just start a 80% vegetarian recipe blog, since I'm totally a blogger now (permission to e-punch me next time I say the word "blog" in this blog... starting now!)
2. An unsuccessful inning of baseball (well, a frustrated kitchen inhabitant's version), I put the dishtowel down and gave the stupid fly a break. I'll get 'im later.
3. Thrilled with my salad, wondering to whom can I rave about it, I head to my bedroom instead of my computer desk in the living room.

So then I did it. I was sitting on my bed, with my laptop on my lap (Oh, thats where they got the name!) typing a blog. I felt like I should have a nom de plum, like, sOcAliBlOgGRRLL or something. You know, like Hilary Duff in The Perfect Man.

Does anyone have any suggestions for a name???


Noteworthy events post becoming a real blogger

1. Used the word "e-punch" in a blog. I would rate that 68% unacceptable. It's not like I'm a pro yet.

This is Alyson L signing off.

List of Things My Dog, Tramp, Has Ruined

MY:

Bathroom drawer, wall, and door

Blow dryer

Loofah

Miss Dior Cherie perfume

Pill bottle of Xanax

Free Spirit

Pumpkin scented candle in the shape of a pumpkin

Love of dogs

Multiple towels and sheets

Couch cushion

To be continued... (unfortunately)

Don't Let This Be True!

This is just like when you finally talk to that person you like, or the one you admire, and for once, you were totally cool-not nervous, witty (but not too much to the point that it feels annoyingly like a ping pong match of offensive rhetoric), and charming. Afterwards you hurry to the nearest mirror forcing yourself not to smile until you know that nobody is around that can laugh to themselves at you (or wonder if you are homeless or on PCP [sorry I'm from Venice, and that exactly what people wonder when they see somebody smiling to themselves {its really a vicious life out there.. We should be able to do whatever we want whenever we want.. Especially smile for freedom's sake!}])--and its not like you're in your car doing it, or you would have shelter from this judgment by continuing to talk to yourself forcing the onlooker to assume you are on your blue tooth. So then you look in the mirror..... NO. This can't be true. My eyeliner is dripping, my cheeks are red and my pores are HUGE! I look like a sweaty beast. The thought of having looked like that in front of your feared and admired one is too much pain to bear, so you wipe off your eyeliner, blot away the shine, and stare at yourself in the mirror ‘til you have convinced yourself that the new fixed up version of you is exactly how the ever-so-important person perceived you.
That moment the horrible realization ALMOST has victory against your denial is the moment I am in right now.
I just bought a pair of tie-dye socks. Finally after admiring, wishing and coveting from afar. I immediately put them on (they are red white and blue and I bought a second pair because those ones had purple and yellow in them too) and as I walked with my head high back toward my car from a very successful night of hippie dancing at the greek theater, my ankles started to itch. NO. The dreaded truth. My new socks aren't itchy, it must be my imagination. Walk it off. Still itchy. I sooth my uneasy mind with the brilliant reminder that I had taken 4 vicodins (for my work related injury. Don't judge me the doctor gave to me and told me it was ok!) and vicodin makes you itchy!

This can't be true. Please don't let my new, long awaited, esteemed, glorified tie dyed socks be itchy.

I once heard "denial is not a river in Egypt." --Author unknown (well, unknown to me at least and I am too frazzled to go look it up on Wikipedia right now).

OK UPDATE:

September 23, 2009

I realize this entry makes no sense. Please understand I wrote this AS I was wearing the socks. I was heavily intoxicated.

From Certified Juror to New Kid on the Blog

....::::::Jury Duty::::::....

Eyes heavy as sandbags, 7 am as I suited up for that daily grind at the ol' nine-to-five at Malibu Courthouse. Its actually Monday, my first day. Had it been my second or third day, I would have known that it is "Juror Appreciation Week"

Needless to say, I was very nervous for my first day on the job, especially because I arrived 15 minutes late with a fresh starbucks drink in my hand. I was afraid they would either judge me or reject me. I tried to hide it in my purse right side up so it wouldn’t spill on my Archie comics, new spiral notebook from Michaels with 3 ready printed lists (stuff to watch, read, and listen to), or, GOD FORBID, my precious Blackberry, Joseph. The girl at the desk knew my dirty secret, I am sure of it. Who knows, that could be the reason the end of this story is so bittersweet.

When I got to check-in, I was informed of my termination. I mean, I was nervous and all, but never did I imagine getting fired before I even started! She asked me if I needed proof of my service this morning for my employer, a vicious stab at me knowing very well that I quit my other job for this, what I thought was a swinging door of opportunity, my last fighting chance at freedom and justice.

Christina (the girl at the desk) sent me on my way with a juror word search, a Malibu Courthouse pencil, and my two new proudest possessions: a juror bookmark and a sticker that says "I served." Although short-lived, I will always cherish my career as a certified juror.

Alright Fine

I constantly want to blog but I know I have to introduce myself first.
Dammit here it is.

My name is Alyson L. I am still not sure if I will share this blog with others or make it personal. I'm leaning towards personal, so, sorry.

Here is a list of stuff I like so you can get to know me.

• certain words (for example: frontier, portal, weird) and phrases (like "that's the ticket," "what's the big idea?" and [a very over-used one for me...] "on the double")
• nostalgia
• colors (red, white, grey and royal blue are my favorites--in that order)
• literality
• making up words
• dreadlocks
• dogs, polar bears and puffer fish
• questions- asking and recieving them
• crafting and sewing
• thinking and challenging
• sandwiches

As I was writing that, I was just wondering what the point of a blog is. If you know of one, please let me know.