Bringing Back the Fanny Pack

On Sunday I went to the LA Wine Fest with a few friends and if anyone has ever been to a wine tasting, you know that you get tipsy quick. We decided to take the bus there so nobody had to drive and 30 minutes into the ride we were eager to get off...not because it was taking too long, but because of a certain homeless guy who walked aboard and starting causing a havoc. Immediately when he got on, he threw down his belongings (three plastic bags full of more plastic bags) and starting ripping the posters off of the wall. The bus driver wasn't happy and luckily for her, there was a supervisor parked on the side of the road whom she motioned to come aboard. Once he climbed abroad the homeless person asked him if he was Hispanic or Central American then threw his Lunchable to the front of the bus...all I could think of was, 'they still sell Lunchables?" Then I figured he may have been holding onto that one for a while..... As he was being escorted off, he whipped out a package of ranch dressing and started drinking it, spurting out a few profanities and walking off the bus with the supervisor. As funny as that experience was, I wanted some wine!

When we got to the festival, I started to see people with bright neon fanny (or butt) packs with the car service, Über, written on them. I wanted one....now! So my mission began- Operation Butt Pack! Between my wine tastings, I would seek anyone out with a butt pack and ask them where they got it. I got a few rolled eyes and some, "they don't have anymore" but I knew I had to have one. Finally, I found the Uber kiosk and thought I hit the jackpot. But they really were out and even though they loved my enthusiasm, they assured me there was nothing that they could do to help me. I was devastated. I pleaded and begged and finally, out of the blue, like an angel from heaven, a little Asian guy appeared with a box. He nonchalantly opened it, handed me a butt pack and gave me a smile. I screamed, did a dance, strapped it on and promoted the crap out of Über.....I was finally complete. After the hoopla, another guy asked for one and the crew said that the one they gave me was literally the very last one they had. I looked him square in the eye and said, "Jealous?"

Tap Tap Tap On My Window...

Last year, when I lived in West Hollywood, I had a very annoying neighbor. But this neighbor wasn't a person at all, it was a tree branch. Night after night I would try and fall asleep to the tap tap tappity tap of the branch against my window, which of course was right above my bed. I was surprised that it actually bothered me since I could literally sleep through anything. Chainsaws, babies screaming, my mom once standing over me in bed washing my windows- yup, anything!

But for some reason, this branch (I called her Michelle Branch) drove me looney night after night. It was an annoying tap that would progress throughout the night...every night! So, one night when I couldn't take it anymore and was on the verge of calling my landlord, I figured I would take things into my own hands. I sprung out of bed and went out to the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors. Once I was back in my bedroom, I hopped up on my bed, opened the window, removed the screen and squeezed half my body out of the window (scissors in hand) so I could reach the damn branch. I grabbed it, pulling it close to me and cut it in half, sending it crashing to the ground. Bye bye Michelle and goodnight Erin!

Mouse On The Move

The other day while I was driving, a huge moth flew in through the window scaring the crap out of me. It flew under my seat and stayed there the entire ride to work, making me feel uneasy that at any moment, it would fly up and surprise me. A few days after it entered my car, it emerged again in my backseat, flopping around, trying to get out. I haven’t seen it since that day and I am hoping it died- sorry little moth. That occurrence reminded me of an incident I had while in college. One that I will never forget.

I was driving home from class one day in my Plymouth Laser when I saw something out of the corner of my eye move. I looked over quickly and saw a little mouse scurry under the passenger seat. I screamed, slammed on the brakes and pulled over. Luckily I didn’t get so freaked out that I crashed my car. I jumped out of my car, left my door open and just paced back in forth for about ten minutes, grossed out and trying to think of something to do. I think I even tried to coax the little guy out by talking to him, as if that would actually work. Finally, after realizing that he was most likely as scared as I was, I decided to gun it to my apartment, which was only a few blocks away anyways. But it’s not like I could drive like everything was normal within the confines of my Laser, I drove like the floor was made of lava and there was no back to my driver’s seat. 

I pulled into my parking garage and asked the security guard to come help me get a mouse out of my car. He looked at me like I was crazy, grabbed a flashlight and followed me outside. He explained to me that mice can easily squeeze their little bodies into the engines of cars and into the interior and that he was probably already gone. I didn’t trust him so I made him look under the passenger side seat where I spotted him. All he found was a chewed up Starburst. That little bastard, he broke into my car and ate my candy? For the next month, I still drove like he was in the car with me and think I even pulled my legs up and sat Indian style at every stoplight.

My Leaning Tower Of Clothes

When I moved in with my boyfriend a few months ago, I gave up my giant closet and had to squeeze all of my stuff into his little space with all of his clothes. This was not going to work. My solution? I was going to go to Target to get one of those double hanging racks and put all of my stuff on it. Perfect! I bought the rack, put it together and started loading on my stuff. In my head, I was thinking how great this would be- Anthony could have the whole closet to himself and I would put all of my clothes on the rack...he wouldn't even know I was there! But in reality, I didn't read the weight requirements on the rack and literally put my entire wardrobe onto this thing. I was even hanging things I had never hung in my life, like t-shirts, because hey, I had a double hanging rack!

Although Anthony wasn't a big fan of having my entire wardrobe in our bedroom, out in the open, he was dealing with it. He knows not to say anything negative about a woman and her clothes. And I felt like a model getting ready for the runway every morning with my new hanging rack. Everything was just fine in the Gudin-chak household. Until, I went home to Maine on Easter weekend. While I was gone, my hanging rack decided to misbehave.....

I got a text from Anthony that Saturday morning while I was enjoying breakfast with my parents telling me that my hanging rack was done. Kaput. Huh? Here's what happened: Anthony came home late from work that night, or should I say that morning, around 4:00 am  to find my entire wardrobe on the floor and the bed. The hanging rack split in two, marking up the walls and spewing my clothes all over the bedroom. Groggy and tired, he naturally thought someone robbed our place and had a mini panic attack. When he figured out what had happened, he just picked up all of my stuff, threw it on the kitchen table and left it for me to deal with when I got back to LA. He was not happy.

What did I learn that day? I learned that you must read directions when buying a hanging rack because you can't just put everything you own on it (I even put my necklaces and bags on it) and that Mr. Clean Magic Eraser works wonders on black scuff marks on the wall. I did manage to save the bottom half of the rack (above) with some electrical tape but it leans a lot toward the right....my lovely leaning tower of clothes!

My Marilyn Moment

Have you ever had one of those moments that is so mortifying yet hilarious at the same time, that you just don’t know what to do? I had one of those yesterday- my Marilyn moment.  Anytime I wear a dress or skirt to work, I am weary of the wind and make sure if I step outside on my lunch break, I hold my skirt close so it doesn’t blow up and expose my skivvies….

Yesterday, I was walking out of the building to my car at 4:00 pm, after the workday was over. I was in front of an older gentleman in a suit and tie, whom I rode the elevator down with. He was a few steps behind me, so when I got to the door leading outside, I held it graciously, waiting for him to catch up. Just as he reached the door and thanked me for holding it, a huge gust of wind blew my dress up and I could feel the breeze blowing on my legs and butt. I scurried to release the door and hold down my dress but it was too late, I was already exposed. I glanced at the man behind me, laughed to myself and told him “you’re welcome” for holding the door (acting like he didn’t just see my butt). What I wanted to say was, “you’re welcome for the show!” Whoopsie Daisy…

Stalking In Sin City

I won't name any names, cite any exact dates or even admit that this is true (wink wink) but I am going to indulge you in a story of a little trip I called 'Stalking in Sin City.' This girl I know, we will call her Karen, was totally in love with this boy at her college and although they had a few classes together and said hello to each other in the halls, Karen never made it to the next level with this boy. I'm convinced it was because Karen gained the freshman thirty which didn't leave her body until after her senior year, but who am I to say why this relationship never blossomed. It wasn't me after all....

A few years after graduation, Karen and her friends moved out to Los Angeles and one day while at work aka stalking her college crush on My Space or AOL Instant Messenger (this was pre-Facebook) Karen found out that he was going to be in Las Vegas that weekend with his friends. Karen told her best friend about this situation and her friend, let's call her Felicia, convinced Karen that they had to drive to Las Vegas and 'bump into him." As Felicia put it, "what do you have to lose?" After Karen answered, "my dignity," she told her that this may be her last chance to see him, while he was single and while Karen was skinny. Shallow girls, I know. But who knew? Maybe this was fate (not stalking) and it was meant to be?

So Karen and Felicia 'called out sick' from work the next day (Thursday), booked a room at the cheapest hotel in Vegas (Circus Circus) and drove four hours to Sin City that night, excited, nervous and trying to convince themselves that they weren't crazy. When they arrived at their hotel room (not the nicest in the city considering it was only $60/night) they opened the door and found the maid laying on the bed watching TV. Startled, he jumped up and said hello. "The room is just about ready, you can come in if you want!" he said as the girls looked at each other in shock. They decided to wait in the hall until he was done with his show, or rather cleaning.

Karen and Felicia learned that the boy was going to be at the Coyote Ugly bar in the New York New York hotel that night and as they got ready, Karen started to freak out a bit. What if he didn't remember her? What if he told her that she was a crazy stalker? Or what if they never even saw him? Nonetheless, Felicia told Karen that they didn't come out here for nothing, gave her a shot and told her to hurry her ass up. After about three shots each, the girls headed to Coyote Ugly, Felicia walking in front like the proud matchmaker and Karen dragging her feet behind like a kid not wanting to go to school on her first day of Kindergarten. Next thing they know, they are standing outside of the bar and Karen spots the back of her crush's head and naturally freaks out and hides behind a nearby puppet show. Don't ask...it is Vegas and there was a puppet show apparently...I wasn't there. Frozen like someone who just saw a ghost, Karen couldn't move and as Felicia came towards her she said, "this is like you taking me to the Grand Canyon and me not getting out of the car!" And although Felicia had a point, Karen was terrified and ran back to the hotel (or the nearest bar), never seeing her crush and never knowing what could have been. Although Felicia was mad, the two are still best friends and everything worked out for the best. Karen and Felicia are some crazy girls! I wish I could have hung out with them.... ; )

My Nail Rant...

Here it goes, my over-the-top nail rant:

Thanks to my friend Mary, who told me I should be a hand model, I have been overly conscious about my nails lately while I am trying to build my hand modeling portfolio. No joke- I have convinced my boyfriend that once he buys a nice camera, he is going to help me take all the pictures for the portfolio, you know- me holding a coffee cup, playing on the iPad, gently clutching keys to a Ferrari and holding a wad of cash- the typical posters you see in the nail salon! I am going to be JP Prewitt from Zoolander. I have always been good about doing my nails, keeping them well polished and making sure if I get any smudges or chips I re-do them immediately. But there a few things that no matter how hard I try, I cannot avoid!

• I always seem to do my nails simultaneously while doing laundry. I'm not sure why I think it is a good idea but I end up either having to mess up my nails when I switch my clothes from the wash to the dryer, or keeping my wet clothes in the washing machine too long while I allow my nails to dry that I have to re-wash them because they smell like mildew.

• Even if my nails are 100% dry because I painted them 2 hours ago, I still walk around, not touching anything because I am convinced they are still wet.

• No matter how hard I try to not touch anything during the painting process, I still manage to get that one tiny hair that came out of the cotton ball I used to remove the previous paint stuck in my nail polish and magically it dries quicker than the speed of light so I have to redo the entire nail.

• It is inevitable that if paint my nails on Monday, by Tuesday I will have at least one chip in my nail which I will try to fix but end up getting annoyed and repainting all my nails with a new color. And don't even get me started on the French manicure- those babies chip while I am screwing the top back on the nail polish bottle.