Author Archives: wendynewell

Sent From Where?

22 Tuesday Dec 2009

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When I send messages via my iPhone there is a templatized sign off that says “Sent from my iPhone.” Some people choose to take that message off. Probably to try and fool their boss into thinking they are at their desk working vs. off shopping or something equally as non-worky. I choose to leave it on. The main reason is my lack of skill on the mini iPhone keyboard is shocking. That paired with my lack of spelling skills equals nothin’ but pure email comedy. If you don’t know, the iPhone will often try and predict what word you are typing and if you aren’t paying close attention (and I never am) then your message is often littered with odd nonsensical words. The ending message, that I am typing and sending the email by phone (vs a human sized keyboard and computer), gives my readers the security that I’m not having a stroke but instead they need to do some iPhone to human translation.

My super creative friend Martha has revised her ending message to say, “sent from my bra.” HA! HOW MUCH DO YOU LOVE THAT? I giggle every single time I read it. I’m angry that I can’t do something equally fun and creative since I often use my iPhone to write work messages. Of course Martha uses her iPhone email for work and yet, somehow, it seems totally acceptable when coming from her!

What would my email sign off be if I was as creative and free as Martha?

* Sent from your butt.
* Sent from my butt.
* Sent from the middle ring (of the three available).
* Translated from Riggins thoughts.
* Sent from deep within the Rabbit’s hole.
* Sent while climbing a crazy large beanstalk.
* Sent from a yet to be named planet.
* Sent from A Beautiful Mind.
* Sent from a keyboard designed for fairies and small elves.

Thoughts? Suggestions?

Cutier Than any Baby

22 Tuesday Dec 2009

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Okay loyal readers (all three of you). I may have had a day yesterday that quickly spiraled out of control and ended with the need for a box of tissues. I’m shaking it off and moving forward. My mini-breakdown came for no specific reason. Just an overall boringly crappy day. It started with me having to work when I’d much rather be off the week before X-Mas playing with friends and family. It wasn’t helped by the horrific holiday traffic and level of stupid being shown by humanity. This alone lead me to throw a fit so horrific the poor man at the parking structure in Pasadena had no choice but to allow me to pass without paying the required fee. The residents of my hood where no help as they took up all block space leaving me no room for my garbage cans at the curb not to mention cutting my driveway entrance in 1/2. (Day before trash day is always a coin toss as the drive down the street leads to the question, “will there be room for my trash cans today?” The answer is almost always, “nope.”)

The one bright shinning light of my day was the delivery of my “sneak peak” of the pictures I had taken of Riggins of me. That was tarnished with the self discovery that I wouldn’t be able to share this pictures with many others as it would only cause discussion and rumors (on my behalf but not necessarily to my face) about why I don’t have a boyfriend/husband. Just add it to the list folks. It was started by others before you long ago. You can nestle it right there between, “doesn’t cook” and “has short hair”. (BTW my hairdresser once told me when she meets a guy the first thing she asks is if he likes women with short hair. If his answer is anything but positive she walks away. Ha! She is so cool!) Here are my, admittedly, over dramatic points as to why I now own professional photos of my dog and me:
* I don’t have super gorgeous photos from my wedding day looking all shinny and happy.
* I don’t have adorable pictures of my children in all their cuteness.
* No husband and no children does not mean I don’t f*ing deserve some g*dd*mn professionally pretty photos too — so suck it!
(I apologise for my outburst and unlady like language. It all started yesterday. I couldn’t be stopped. I screamed curse words I’ve never heard before. It was impressive. I’m pretty sure my neighbors think I have tourettes. It worked though … the car blocking my driveway was “magically” moved forward.)

BUT I will happily share my sneak peak with you — enjoy. http://fusarophotography.com/blog/2009/12/riggins-sneak-peak/

I may consider it the best money I’ve ever spent!

Up In The Air

21 Monday Dec 2009

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To mix things up instead of reviewing a movie and giving you my thoughts on acting, plot, writing, and directing I’m going to share with you the thoughts I had prior to watching Up In The Air at the Americana at Brand this weekend.

* Is going to a mall the weekend before X-Mas just to see a movie a good idea?
* Hey. Parking wasn’t bad! I still say whoever put this “two merging lane twisty” parking garage entrance in Glendale was an extreme optimist or didn’t know the lack of driving/merging skills of the Glendalians.
* (As I stepped off of the last escalator) Good lord. Where did all these people come from? It’s like god threw up humanity all over this place. I can see the light of the theatre. Let me through …
* NO LINE AT THE AUTOMATED TICKET MACHINES — MERRY X-MAS TO ME INDEED!
* NO LINE AT THE CONCESSION STAND. IT’S LIKE MY OWN LITTLE X-MAS MIRACLE!
* Good, not that many people so no one will sit by me.
* (A few minutes later …) I said no one would sit by me. No one would sit by me. Don’t sit by — damn it.
* That Benihana’s commercial makes me giggle every time. Makes me giggle and want to drink mixed cocktails from a Buddha mug!
* The creative agency who made the National Guard spot deserves some sort of award. It is mighty powerful. I would never join any armed (or non-armed) forces. Honestly it would take about 1 hour before I started a one woman coup and went AWOL. AND EVEN I get 1/2 way through that spot and want to scream, “where do I sign up?” You know what they should do? They should hand out sign up sheets and little miniature golf pencils as you walk into the theatre and then have army guys stationed at the end of each aisle and the second you sign and date the paper they sweep in and grab it from you before you come to you senses and eat the evidence.
* Good thing this Walmart/Coke spot is seasonal because it annoys me. They should get the creative shop that the National Guard uses to look this thing over.
* I’d date Alec Baldwin. I mean he is old and crazy but doesn’t he look like he would be fun for a couple dates? You know before super crazy kicks in.
* What movie am I here to see again? Oh right.
* I bet I’d be good at George Clooney’s character’s job in this flick. I mean his life looks lonely and horrible … hence the movie and all the award buzz around it (you don’t get award buzz unless something is tragic) … so I’m not saying I want that job I’m just saying I might be good at it. If this was High School and I was taking that test that tells you what you could be good at “when you grow up” I bet you money my test results would head closer to “lay off people” than “school teacher”.
* Apparently there are no unattractive people in whatever town Valentine’s Day is filmed in.
* Okay why am I the only person laughing out loud at the Death at a Funeral trailer? That movie looks hysterical.
* Seriously what did I come here to see again? Oh right. Clooney.
* Was From Paris with Love filmed in 1982 and is just now coming out? What is with the crappy production quality. Did they do that on purpose to look all “arty” … sigh … I bet they did … sigh.
* Hey! Leonardo DiCaprio is finally beginning to look older than 18. Good for him!
* MOVIE’S STARTING. WOOOOO HOOOOOOO!

I Got Somethin’ You Can Hold

16 Wednesday Dec 2009

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Over the past couple months I’ve become addicted to an exercise class called The Bar Method. Before I start detailing the hell on earth that I pay to endure let me start with the positives.

* By far the NICEST human beings on the planet. Crazy nice. The two owners, every teacher, adorable “boys” who check in and take care of everything. ADORABLY NICE. It makes me feel horrible that I’m so unskilled at what they are attempting to teach me.

* Damn it if you don’t see results. Torture = results. Honestly if I didn’t see changes in my body (like the joy I get when I have to say, “sorry just a sec my pants are falling down”) I’d never go back.

* Pasadena location = super duper nice.

Okay now the cold hard facts. I consider myself fit. Run 5K’s often. Work out (really work out not wussy work outs) 5 days a week minimum. Hike on the weekends. Not pathetic “walks” at an incline. Take a look at the window. See that hill … nah mountain? That. I climb that. I, wrongly, thought that the “girly” work out known as The Bar Method would be nothin’. Even with my complete lack of flexibility I’d still come out as the shinning star student. Right.

WRONG.

It’s hard. And I don’t mean “hard”. I mean F*ing hard. F* F*ing hard.

From start to finish there isn’t a part I’m not concentrating so hard I’m sweating. Each movement is so tiny and yet so horrifically painful. I appreciate the constant “cheering” from the teacher but in my head I often reply “F* off”.

“Wendy good shaking.”
“F*off.”

“Wendy don’t give up.”
“F* off.”

“Wendy leg higher. I know you can do it.”
“F* off.”

“Don’t give up on the ‘hold’ … and hold … and hold … and hold …”
“F* off … and F*off … and F* off.”

You get the point. AND THE SHAKING. If you aren’t shaking you aren’t working. Here’s a test for you. Stand up with something (like a desk or chair) to hold balance with. Feet hip distance part. Go up on your toes. Higher. Higher. As my favorite instructor Maxx (2 the Maxx) would say, “the highest heels ever.” Tuck your seats (aka tighten your butt in), bring your abs in (aka suck in your stomach). Comfy? Good. Now come down as far as you can (bend your knees) keeping that position with your flat back as Max would say, “like you are sliding down a wall.” Comfy? Good. Now go down 2 inches lower. Now just go down a little and up a little with very controlled small movements. Comfy? Good. Now do that about 1 million more times. If you aren’t shaking by the 3rd time then you are cheating. Go higher on those heels and lower to the ground.

That doesn’t even touch things like push ups and non-stop curls and something that makes me shake just thinking about it called “the pretzel” …

Remember when I said I’m fit. Throw that right out the window. I look like giant uncoordinated hippo when up next to the svelte ballerinas. I have to control myself from blurting out in the middle of class, “Oh yah Gumby? Well I can beat you in a 3.1 mile race so … ha!”

As they say no pain no gain. And the non-flexible Wendy can now officially touch her toes. So I’m going to keep going and keep struggling to keep that internal F* you from coming out my mouth!

Aaaaaaahhhhh!

02 Wednesday Dec 2009

Posted by in online dating, Riggins

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I give up. Done. Out. See ya. Men are morons (sorry you are — all of you — ALL OF YOU). I’m marring Riggins and living happily ever after. If that freak in Japan can marry a computer avatar I can marry my dog. It will probably be legal in CA before my gay friends can get married so take that Yes an Prop 8ers and shove that up where the sun don’t shine. (http://features.csmonitor.com/innovation/2009/12/02/man-marries-video-game-girlfriend/)

Here are just a few things that have sent me jumping off the edge:

* Hey online daters. POST A PICTURE A HOLES. Seriously. POST A PICTURE. What is wrong with you? I am NOT going to suggest we meet for drinks if I haven’t seen a picture. Call me shallow. Fine. I’m shallow. But I have about 5 pictures of me up there and does that seem fair? No. Stop being such a holes and post your picture.

* Take the douche photos off. I find it SERIOUSLY HARD TO BELIEVE that the only photo you have of you is with your shirt off. Really that’s it? You live in a world without cameras and when you happen to see one you whip off your shirt, throw on your ray bans and strike your pose. That isn’t hot. That isn’t cool. That’s douch-y. Might as well put that Ed Hardy shirt back on (I know that is what it is) and just move on from my cyber life.

* Hey guys old enough to be my dad or grandfather. I realize I would totally be brilliant arm candy but unless you have added the words, “rich and near death” and have a doctor and banker’s note to prove it move along. I already admitted to being shallow so I don’t feel I have to apologise for this statement.

Gone to the Dogs

19 Thursday Nov 2009

Posted by in wine

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Should I be horrified that this was the twitter list I was a part of yesterday? I’m not sure what the #WW hash tag means but after some research I think it is Woof Woof or Woof Wednesday or something with Woof in it. A doggie shout out if you will. I appreciate how all the names on the list have “dog” or “poo” (which is dog enough) in them but mine. Like I’m a closeted crazy dog person that Wisdom Panel was smart enough to sniff out.

I suppose it makes sense as the night before I was asking for suggestions on how to sneak wine into the dog park to make it more enjoyable. Maybe these are my wine drinking fellow dog lovers.

I’ll assume that, embrace them, and start following them all.

Target is What I Expect Heaven to be Like

10 Tuesday Nov 2009

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It is rare for me to randomly come across humanity being good — where I’m involved. When I do I feel the need to share.

Today I left work early, due to chest pains (probably caused mostly by stress), to go pick up my meds at Target. There is a long story about that. Target rocks and I love getting my prescriptions there but, in general, their service is lame. They only have one supplier vs. the normal pharmacy which has 3. That means, more than once, I’ve had to “pick another prescription” or wait a very long time. Normally that isn’t a HUGE deal but when it comes to life changing high blood pressure it can be an issue. Still I refuse to move to another pharmacy as it is Target and it’s the only store on the planet I go to just to “have fun”. So after a weekend of not being on a high enough dosage my meds finally came in.

As any BRILLIANT person would do after picking up her extremely potent blood pressure medicine I took the elevator upstairs (yup — my Target is 2 stories. Boo ya! SEE WHY I LOVE IT?) to get a snack. Nothin’ says intelligent like my need to take my blood pressure meds with a caffeinated soda and super salty popcorn. It’s a combo at the snack bar. How do you expect me to pass that up? I’ll just call it dinner to make it alright in my head. OF COURSE, since I was in a semi-hurry, there was only one person working the snack counter. Normally this would send me into a fit of furry rarely seen since the American Express incident of 2001 (don’t deny my card — seriously — unless you want to taste blood), but I was trying to bring down my blood pressure so instead I just stood there silently taping my foot with my arms crossed. Then I realized (which also rarely happens as the person closes to me usually gets the full wrath of my hate) it wasn’t this poor woman’s fault that some moron called in sick and her idiotic managers have no actual skill to see there is an issue that requires them to take action. To this woman’s credit I have NEVER seen the kind of glove on and offing, microwaving, cash registering, skills in action before. It was almost magic. And the group of hungry wolves crowding around her responded. I’ve seen people get physical in this line before. Not today. Today we were all under her charm as she carefully and skillfully multi tasked. Then it was my turn … and she was starting to waver. It’s like seeing a marathon runner stumble near the finish line. WE HAD TO HELP HER. WE HAD TO WALK OUT THERE AND PICK HER UP AND DRAG HER TO THE END. SHE COULDN’T GIVE UP. WE WEREN’T GOING TO LET HER. So after I ordered I brought the guy who ordered ahead of me his pretzel that was hot from the microwave just so she wouldn’t have to leave her post to add “waitress” to her, already ridiculous amount of work. Then the Target rent-a-cop saw my effort and had a straw waiting for me when I went to get my heart stopping caffinated soda. I’d like to think we started a chain of love at the Target food court. That after I left the poor super multi-tasker didn’t lose her shit and fall to the ground sobbing under the stress covered in liquid cheese and frozen hot dogs. I like to think that every new person who ordered helped someone else and together we brought peace and love to the worlds most perfect shopping location … Target.

(It’s perfection made only more obvious when I walked to the door and realized THERE IS A NEW “FRESH” FOOD SECTION. TAKE THAT MEAN PEOPLE AT WHOLE FOODS. I CAN NOW DO ALL MY SHOPPING IN THE LOVING ARMS OF THE RED AND WHITE!)

He is NOT a Lab. Take that back.

08 Thursday Oct 2009

Posted by in online dating

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I’ve posted a number of online dating tips up for the guys. Here is one for the ladies — “On a first date tone down the crazy.” I realize that isn’t specific enough to really help you or those wacky single ladies in your life but it is hard to be more specific. After all we each have our own level (some are mighty high) and tone of crazy.

Mine is easy to diagnose. If I want a higher probability of seeing a second date I have to lay off the Riggins talk. This is MUCH harder than it sounds. After all I adore him more than any other living creature on this planet. He also takes up about 80%-90% of the pictures on my iPhone. It’s hard to get around it. I’m a bit dog crazy (admitting it is the first step). If I had my way it’s ALL I’d talk about on a date. And frankly I don’t want to hear my dates wacky pet stories (especially if they involve cats). I want to do all the talking and I want it to be all Riggins. See … that is “crazy”. During a first date I have to consciously NOT bring up the dog every 30 seconds.

Here is what is brilliant about this. Inevitably there will be a date I’m on that within a few minutes I’ve made the decision I NEVER want to see this person again. So I take all that stored up crazy from other times and LET IT LOOSE! You know a date with me is going south when I make you look at approximately 20 pictures of Riggins on my iPhone, fight (which has to includes screaming) that he is NOT a lab and demand you take it back, only talk about things I do with Riggins and talk about my plans to open dog friendly bars and gyms so I never have to be without him.
So although I hide crazy (aka my real self) I occasionally get to have it come out to play!

Happiest Place on Earth

08 Thursday Oct 2009

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Earlier this month my sister and her family came down to go to Disneyland in honor of my nephew and her birthday. This would be my nephews first trip to Disneyland so, of course, I couldn’t miss it. Even though I was sicker than a dog. Have you been to Disneyland when you feel like passing out (and not for any good reason) and it is approx. 1 million degrees outside? I really wouldn’t call it “super fun”. Since I couldn’t do much more then sit I was the perfect companion for my niece who is still super teeny tiny. One of the few rides we went on was the steamboat. As my dad, brother-in-law, nephew, and sister easily romped up the stairs to go to the higher levels of the boat I happily sat down on a bench about 6 ft. from the entrance with my niece on my lap. Next to me was two lovely women with their wild kids. During the cruise around Tom Sawyer’s Island one of the women asked me how old my baby was. I answered “3-months” (I’m actually not really sure but this sounded good to me.) To which she replied after looking me up and down, “Wow. You look great for just having a baby.”

THEN AND THERE MY DAY WAS MADE.

Now I realize this isn’t much of a compliment since I have never actually given birth to a child after all the adorable baby in my arms was my niece. STILL in my mind I translated her comment to, “Wow you are so fit and skinny and beautiful.” THANKS RANDOM DISNEYLAND LADY! THIS IS TRULY THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH … even sick!

14 Monday Sep 2009

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Info on a “gentleman” who emailed me from a dating site –

My Self-Summary

i have 2 sons , i have been divorced for 5 years and i have been single since then. i have allways been careful not to get hurh again. but i have realised its not a good thing to be alone cos life os too short

(Wendy note: I don’t blame you. Getting “hurh” totally blows and life “OS” too short.)

I’m really good at

everything i do

(Wendy note: Umm. I’m reading this and I’m just going to go out on a limb here and say, “no not everything.”)

The six things I could never do without

God

(Wendy note: That’s one. Even as the “trinity” that is still less than six.)