SG goes all Hollywood on yo ass (or at least in her own mind)

My work days have been packed with, well, work – boo! So there hasn’t been much time to write from my desk. And my weekend was pretty much eaten up by bad decisions and about 10 rounds with Depression in which the Big D KO’d me early Sunday.

I’m going through some big downer kind of stuff that I’ve been contemplating writing about here. Truth is, it doesn’t serve much purpose other than to bum you guys out, so I’ll probably skip it for now, but just know that when I don’t write for days it’s not you, it’s me. For realz.

I’m going bezerkers at my desk today.

Many days I think I’m simply not cut out for this work stuff and this is one of them. For one, I have a bad video game habit. Have since Atari. Right now I’m in the secret laboratory dungeon on Persona 4 and I REALLY want to fight those shadows and find out what happens next. I sit here thinking, “Would my boss really notice if I slipped out for a few hours? I must know if those teens catch the killer and return Inuba to its former quiet state!”

Also, I’m about to be the next Food Network star. Well, maybe not. But I am being considered for one of the cooking challenge shows and I have to finish writing my recipes and get them to the casting director by tomorrow! This means I need to leave work early, go shopping for all the yummy ingredients, make the dishes all one more time, invite over taste testers and quadruple check the recipes I’ve written -- all in the next 12 hours. Do I have to do this AGAIN, you may be asking. My OCD brain answers, yes! Besides, I want to win this biatch. Big cash prizes, fame, fortune, a marriage to Christian Bale, a house in the English countryside, babies that look like Harry Potter and have magical skills … whoa. Carried away. Seriously people. The Food Network changes lives. Have you seen the Rachel Ray story?

All this is to say sitting here thinking about the precise wording to use in a gift acceptance policy is not exactly enough to keep my attention right now.

I will leave you with this little gem. It’s the trailer for a “Lifetime summer movie event” (again, not Hushed Rapings.) If you watch the movie closely when it premieres on May 30, and you know what you’re looking for, you will see me and Martini. It’s going to be awesome(ly bad – but seeing me and my besties Martini and Sarah Chalke on the small screen will be great, right?)

* Dumb Lifetime will not let me embed so you'll have to click here: Maneater. It's soooooo worth it. (Not really, but if you're reading this you probably have nothing better to do ;-)

Scale it the frack back: My Earth Day lament.

I woke up this morning with a little ditty in my head that went a little like this: “Earth Day, Earth Day. Earth! Earth!” to the tune of Billy Squier’s “The Stroke.”

Just a little peek into the wacky brain of SG.

Happy ED everyone! (no, not erectile dysfunction, Bob Dole – I know you’re a secret follower.)

I try to live every day like it’s Earth Day. I know a lot of shmucks say that, but it's true.

I eat very little meat. I take public transportation nearly every day. I walk places. I reuse. I get my food out of the dumpster behind Whole Foods and find many of my clothes lying around at bus stops and in public restrooms (those last two are not true, but I hear some people really do it and I won’t knock it ‘til I try it.)

I take up very little space. This last one is important to me because I live in one of the most sprawling cities in the U.S.

I used to write for a publication about home and garden design and décor. I’d go to all these houses that were just excessive. Forty miles from where they worked. Four car garage. Five bedrooms and just one person living there? What is that? As a single person I say three rooms max – one for me, one for when Christian Bale visits, and one for my imaginary friend, Ristian Chay Ale Bay.

Yes, I can afford a house with several bedrooms if I wanted one – but I don’t need one. It’s just me and Little B. We’re perfectly happy in our little loft apartment. It’s close to work. I only need to have one light on at any given time. The electric bill is $55 in the middle of summer with the air running all the time. It’s only a few steps or a good lunge from the couch to the toilet – convenient for those hangover moments.

A fellow sassy single friend of my mine was recently bemoaning the fact that she was moving from one small apartment to another. She said she had hoped her next move would be into a bigger place – maybe a condo – with multiple rooms. I think that’s a pretty normal sentiment, but I asked her, is it really what you need? It’s just more to clean anyway, right? Why would you want that? And think of all the money you could save and spend on martinis instead.

The idea behind her concern is totally understandable: What’s the balance for we 20 and early 30 something singles between dorm room and excess?

I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately. I work with some people who are well, how can I say this … snobby boob faces. We’re around people with a lot of money all the time and they want to look like they have some, too. They just can’t except that I’m completely happy in my tiny space and will stay like that until there’s a compelling reason to change it.

I’m not saying I’m perfect (if you read this blog your know Imperfection is my middle name ... or is it Vodka.?) But on days like today I like to challenge myself and others to think about ways they can scale it the frack back. How do you all keep your stiletto print (or Puma print for the gents) small? Or do you not really think about it? Just curious.

Also, this was just too cute: http://blaine.org/sevenimpossiblethings/?p=1655

It’s about creative ways to reuse stuff around the house. I actually did the old cans thing once and it’s really charming. Love this blog and love these kind of ideas!