Tucker: 1) Yes, the brown kitty in the bathroom is staying so be nice. 2) When my eyes blink, that does not mean bat at them.

(This blog was originally written on Tuesday, I just needed a picture.)
Day 3 in Kittenland.

Tucker slept next to me in my bed all night, only waking me up twice. I've never seen a kitten sleep so much. Though he did decide to get up at 5:30 and discovered, with sheer wonder, that my eyes do indeed blink, but are not for playing. 

I had class for an hour at 10:30 and then returned home so Kristen and I could drive 20 minutes to pick up her kitten, Mason. The SPCA is usually closed on Tuesdays, but we walked up to the door and it was immediately unlocked by a woman asking if we were Mason's owners. She put him in the cardboard carrier with the purple knit mat on the bottom and gave us his updated information. 

In the car, we figured he was still drugged from the procedure, which is why he wasn't freaking out like Tucker did. Kristen laughed at how he purred despite the car speeding down the highway at 80 MPH. We decided to keep him in the bathroom alone for as long as possible since he wasn't stitched up, just glued. But that didn't last long. I opened the door and Tucker zoomed in and before I knew it, they were sniffing each other out and spitting and batting. It was like they didn't know what to do with each other. Kristen was in class taking a test till 4 so I was left catering to Mason on the bathroom floor while Tucker was in Jessica's room. 

A little while after Kristen came home and a group of her classmate friends came to see the kitties, I was lying on her bed when I heard, "Chrissy. Help!" from the bathroom. I went in and saw her holding Mason on his back. "Look." I got closer and saw at the base of Mason's tail was a little white worm. "It came out of his butt," she said. I gasped. Ugh! And the kitten troubles begin. I held him while Kristen picked it up with a tissue. She looked utterly terrified. "What do we do? Should they not play together?"

I told her to just call a vet immediately and they'd tell us what to do. Turns out there wasn't any need to worry. Kristen called the vet nearest us and we asked for a free check-up and told her about the worm we found on Mason. I could hear over the phone, "That's very common if the kitten had fleas before. It is transferrable but it's nothing to worry about... they can still play together.... The only way we can get it is if we literally put their fluids in our mouth...." We got an appointment for both of them at 5 o'clock today since I was worried about one of Tucker's eyes. He tends to squint it more than the other one. 

With that out of the way, our night carried on with the loud galloping sounds of the kitties racing around and playing, occasionally jumping on Kristen's bed while we watched Gossip Girl. 

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, take a looksie. At "Catfish."

I happened to stumble upon this trailer on the Apple trailers site. The caption was "Don't let anyone tell you what it is" as in, watch the damn thing for yourself and make your own conclusions. Fair enough. 
From what I know, Sundance audiences and critics have been raving/spreading the word about this mysteriously enticing film that looks interesting at first, and then seems to take an extremely unexpected turn at the very, very end.
It's a mockumentary, one of my most beloved genres. It's an exciting art to take on, almost as raw and exhilarating as watching a play with the actors in front of you, in the flesh, nothing to hide behind. I am very intrigued to see this entire film considering how choppy the trailer is and gives almost nothing away. Like one little hint would spoil the entire ending. The latimesblogs.latimes.com has a complete article on the film here: http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/the_big_picture/2010/01/sundance-fever-what-catfish-says-about-our-247-video-age.html
(I haven't mastered linking yet so bare with me.)
Watch it.

I hope my wedding is this cool...

Lauren + JP from Matt Odom on Vimeo.
Love the heart balloons and origami and the dance moves. Adorable yet modern :) .

Tucker status: Day 2.

This morning, Kristen and I woke up to find Tucker asleep on her stack of magazines next to her dresser. He followed us into the bathroom and prowled around while she readied herself for school. When Kristen left, I made my usual cranberry tea and got on my laptop. Little did I know he would crawl onto my keyboard and tip the screen back so it knocked into my glass, sending it to the floor in a red splash. Juice stained the bottoms of my curtains and faux carpet. I spent a good 15 minutes cleaning up the floor and scrubbing the curtains till finally I made a phone call asking for new curtains. Ah, well. It was a complete accident.
I had a Career Development appointment today between 2 and 4 with Brian, a tall, Asian man who gives the impression of having gone to Harvard or Yale. I started to feel sleepy around 1 and Tucker was already asleep in my lap. So I laid on my side in bed, Tucker next to me, and napped till 2:30 before getting ready and leaving at 3. That was when I learned Tucker could sleep anywhere, anytime, in any position (hence the picture of him in Kristen's lap). Totally cute.
When I sat down with Brian at his office, I said, "I got a kitten yesterday. He's white. His name's Tucker." Brian nodded. "I like kittens," he stated, "but kittens tend to not stay that way and after that, I'm not a cat person." Fair enough.
I returned a little after 4 with a classmate I hadn't seen in a while and bumped into at the elevators. He asked what I'd been up to so, naturally, "I got a kitten yesterday." Oh, let's see it, was his response. So once again, I brought another hopeful to the apartment, because who doesn't want to hold a 3-pound fuzz ball that purrs constantly? Tucker met yet another human, but non will compare to his new kitty friend, Mason, when we bring him home tomorrow.
Every once in a while, Kristen will rush in and scoop him up and then squeal about wanting her kitty. Then Tucker will scamper away from her and she'll squeal about him hating her when really he's just hyper. He whines when he wants to get on the kitchen counter and crawl around. He whines when he's by himself in the bathroom. He whines when he's purring on my lap, and he whines when he's standing around wondering where I am and I say, "Baby," or "Tucker" and he finds me.

Aujourd'hui j'ai adopte un chaton. Son nom est Tucker. Il est trois mois.

He's white with grey on his face and tail and grey spot on his back. His eyes are green. And he's completely sweet and lovely.

Kristen and I spent half the day driving from shelter to shelter all over LA looking for kittens since she was determined in every sense of the word to find a kitty--today. Finally I made a call. 15 kittens available at the SPCA-LA. We hauled ass since Kristen was on a schedule. After a 20-minute highway drive into uncharted territory, we walked in and went straight into "The Cattery." The door was decorated like a child nursery. Four kennels in the first room. Two kittens, one bunny, one empty kennel. Next room was strictly a play room for adult cats. One large cat named Iris looked to be ruler of them all, perched high on a scratching post and extremely intimidating. Branching off of that were two kitten play rooms, with constantly stationed caretakers in aprons playing with them, because heaven forbid they aren't frolicking like kitty-cherubs. 

In the very first kennel, before the adult cat playroom, was Mason: a tiny chocolate kitten with long legs, green eyes, and white specs on his chest and tummy. He lounged in our arms like he'd known us since birth, stretching out for our hands and faces. He meowed when we left him to play with the others. In the second kitten room, sharing a kennel with his sister, was a white kitten named Tolouse, the only white kitten in the entire facility, no black or brown to be found, just grey. "I've always wanted a white boy kitten," I said. I asked to hold him and he wailed in the cage and in my arms, desperate to play. The second time I held him, he was more relaxed and purred on my shoulder. I wanted to give the only white kitten a second chance. 

Kristen wasn't able to leave Mason alone for more than five minutes at a time. No other kitten compared. He wasn't easily distracted, nor did he have that baby dumbness that kittens usually possess. He seemed intelligent and calm for his age. 

Giving Tolouse a third and fourth chance in my arms, I decided on him. I wasn't letting him get away. So Kristen and I had the caretakers take the Mason and Tolouse's cards off the cages, meaning they were taken, and we spent about 30 minutes filling out paper work for the both of them. It involved calling Jessica and having her talk to the manager so he could make sure she wasn't allergic. Mason wasn't neutered nor did he have a microchip, both of which Tolouse already had, which meant I could take Tolouse home, but Mason would have to be neutered the next day and be picked up on Tuesday between 2 and 4 PM. I'll have to do that since Kristen has class. 

The manager gave us each a cardboard carrier with holes to take the kittens home in. On the bottom of each was a sewn, rustic knit mat--mine multicolored, hers purple. Then we were handed fancy customized folders containing our paperwork and information, along with two large tote bags stuffed with free goodies like cat nip, food, treats, and toys. The manager went back with the cardboard carrier and put Tolouse inside.

In the car, I took him out because he was whining and I cooed, "You're freaking out, I know, you're freaking out." After about 30 minutes, he fell asleep on my shoulder despite the bumpy roads and harsh turns. 

At our apartment, he met a slew of people within an hour. Friends flocked from everywhere to catch a glimpse of him. Jessica, Crystal, John, Mitch, my hair dresser. They all cooed over him. Kristen had comedic outbursts about not being able to hold Mason till Tuesday. 

When Kristen was in class, I drove to Collars & Leashes and bought a litter box for him. Then I took out the bathroom mats to wash them, mopped the floor, then mopped it again, and dried it with a rag.

During dinner, Jess, Kristen, and I were debating on a new-house name for Tolouse. I had originally wanted to name him Sasha, a definitive of Alexander, because I love unisex names. Then, because Sasha wasn't received too well by friends, it changed to Shiloh. I was pretty stuck on "S" names. Finally I went to babynames.com and saw Skylar. That was it. He immediately became Skylar; it was already programmed. I told my roommates and neither of them liked it that much. Finally Kristen said she had the urge to call him Tucker. Since that name is already very high in my book, I decided my little white feline would indeed be Tucker from now on. When he's not zipping from room to room on a catnip high, attacking random objects on the floor, he's sitting next to me or kneading on our bodies.

Brandon Flowers, meet Charlize Theron. "Crossfire" video.

Damn Brandon Flowers for being married with a kid. 

Trois est meilleur qu'un: L'anatomie des compagnons chambre.

Il semble raisonnable quand vous pensez cela. Combien de temps prend-il habituellement pour finir par savoir quelqu'un? Un mois? Deux semaines? Jessica pleure au telephone comme j'ecris. Cela a pris quatre mois pour qu'elle devienne assez confortable pour pleurer devant moi. Kristen et moi on appris a recevoir les imperfections de chacun, aucunes questions posees. Hier elle m'a apporte une fluer orange et l'a mise sur mon oreille. Et j'ai saute dans ses bras et elle m'a pris, bruits totalement romantiques, droit? Je ne pourrais pas croire combien je me suis allume par un si gran pourtant petit geste. Une fleur foutue d'une fille m'a mis sur le nuage neuf.
Pendant les trois semaines passees, les trois de nous n'avaient pas ete plus divises pourtant davantage connectes dans toute l'heure ou nous avions vecue. Kristen et moi sommes devenus une equipe tandis que Jessica semblait etre dans une certaine trouille etrange qui a laisse nous le sentiment echoue dans un. Il n'y a aucune autre connexion comme celle entre les personnes que vous vivez avec. Soudainement les choses sont plus se sont senties que dites. Sont les entretiens pour partager ce que doit etre partage, plus d'un avertissement  a' l'autre personne ainsi ils savent votre esprit fonctionne. (Jessica a juste dit qu'elle se sent triste et seule. Un autre choc quand vous vivez avec deux autres personnes.) Il est tout au sujet de connexion de chimie. (Jessica juste a colle dehors son pied et je l'ai gifle et elle a ri nerveusement.)
La division vient de decouvrir ou les trois de nous vont vivre une fois notre bail est vers le haut. Jessica peut seulement se permettre certains luxes, pas le tout baisant le sac de Chanel. Kristen et moi veulent le sac de Chanel. Avec arrose. Kristen a senti la victime a Jessica la volant ce luxe, ce bonheur et etincelles. Il a obtenu au point ou Kristen n'a voulu vivre avec Jessica plus. Meme j'ai ete convaincu que trois separeraient dans un et deux. Mais....
Nous n'avons pas su que Jessica ne nous comptait pas dehors. Nous etions toujours un groupe de trois personnes a elle. Et Kristen et moi ne pourrions pas controler cela. Ainsi nous l'avons laissee nous garder ensemble. En depit de sa depression qui a obtenu de la voie de tout notre bonheur, pas simplement elle, nous tous avons mange le dejeuner ensemble cet apres-midi. Ensemble. Et nous etions heureux et rire. Puisque nous sommes tous nous avons quand nous sommes a la maison.

The cutest way to eat a watermelon.

Must try this with my cat.

Close to Godliness: The Facebook Movie Trailer. "The Social Network."

When I first heard there was to be a Facebook movie, the first thing I thought was that it would be another waste of film, of actors, of money period. That was before I knew that David Fincher was to direct it and Jesse Eisenberg, Justin Timberlake, and Arnold Garfield was to act in it. Suddenly not a waste of money after all. But still, how on earth was this supposed to work? Turns out it's the autobiographical, raw truth to the creation of Facebook. Not only about who is obsessed with the site, but who fought to even have it run on the Internet. The haunting background music gave me chills. It's too beautiful. It's too stunning and real. Je l'aime.

Movie: Inception. No spoilers, I promise.

Here's the thing. I saw this thing last night at 12:15, in West Hollywood's Arclight, in the cinema dome. Pretty awesome set up. Once the announcer told us the movie ran at 2 hours and 35 minutes, there was huge collective, "Oooohh!" as in "no way!"
Written an directed by Christopher Nolan, I bet you're wondering just as much as I did exactly what this movie is about since the trailers can only explain so much and it's a very mysterious, did-he-just-say-what-I-think-he-said? concept. And here's the gist simply put: Agent Cobb (Leo DiCaprio) and his team (Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ellen Page, Tom Hardy, Dileep Rao, and Ken Watanabe) enter the dream of a young heir named Fisher (Cillian Murphy) in order to plant an original idea, which is, in dream terms, the most difficult task you can ever take on. That's right, there are easy and difficult ways to spend your time in dreams. Although, in order to do this task, they cannot enter only into Fisher's dream, but they also must enter into three other dreams while in that dream, getting deeper and deeper into the subconscious. As Cobb puts it, "a dream within a dream within a dream."
Fisher's dream takes place in a rainy town. One by one, the team captures Fisher and his Godfather, who knows a very important detail in order to plant this idea in Fisher's mind, and they all gather in a rape-van. But wait! Fisher's subconscious knows they're in there. He's been trained to kill off any intruders, and the assassins come in the form of men popping out of buildings trying to shoot the driver of the van. BUT. They must go to sleep inside the dream, so they all go under once more and wake up in yet another layer of Fisher's subconscious. The driver of the van stays awake on that level so he can keep them all alive and the dream does not collapse.
The civilians in Fisher's hotel-dream are constantly watching the team members, following them down hallways like robots out to destroy, and glaring at Cobb as he explains to Fisher that he is in fact in a dream and that he must shut off his subconscious security so the team is not shot. He obeys, but the security only subsides a little.
Gathered in a hotel room, the Godfather is captured again and they go into a sleep state once more to enter yet another layer of dream, but inside the Godfather this time. One team member stays awake to keep the balance of that dream level, just like the van driver.
The next layer looks like the icy Himalayas. There's an icy temple containing Fisher's dying father where the original idea will be planted in Fisher's mind once he relives his father's death, only this time, he will go as nature intended and finish the half-heard sentence Fisher could not decipher in reality.
I am leaving a massive layer here involving Cobb and his family life, but I'll leave that part up to you to see. In the end, vous n'avez aucune idee si sa realite est reellement un reve ou pas.

The more he talks, the angrier I am at straight news anchors.

Johnny Weir is always an athlete first. Always. Ils peuvent se baiser.

"Brian Eno." MGMT can write one hell of a song.

So tired
Soul searching
I followed the sounds to a cathredal
imagine my surprise to find that they were produced by Brian Eno


past the gates
quite stark
the roses trimmed and the windows dark
I see the walls through a limestone crack
not red not blue not yellow but black
and all this space is left for you
if the sky was synthesized you'd probably know


he taught me many things
the wisdowm of o bleak stratagems
the prophet of a sapphire soul
presented through creative freedoms
and everything i say is true
cuz if i was telling lies it'd probably show


i can tell that he's kind of smiling
but what does he know? (what does he know?)
we'll always be a step behind him, he's Brian Eno
Brian Eno


when I was stuck he'd make me memorize elaborate curses
tinctures and formulas to ditch the chori and flip the verses
my whole foundation came unglued
when i tried to humanize by ambient light
dipping swords into metaphors yeah but what does he know?
we'll always be a step behind him he's Brian Eno
Brian Eno!


he promised pretty words and all the silence
I could dream of 
Brian peter George St John Le
Baptiste De La Salle Eno


well all alone by the oldest stone where the shade
trees grow (what does he know?)
the creature by the water feature with a
ghostly glow (Brian Eno)
he's making sure that time's preserved
well we reap what we sow 
we'll always be a step behind him he's Brian Eno
Brian Eno


Well I can tell that he's doing well now
But what does he know?
Brian Eno
We'll always be a step behind him (cuz I don't know)
Brian Eno 

Regardez les lapins mignons de bebe!

55 seconds of furry white noses and mouths. Yes please. 

Fleet Foxes' 1-verse song is the best thing ever.

I was following the pack
all swallowed in their coats
with scarves of red tied round their throats
to keep their little heads
from fallin in the snow
And I turned round and there you go
And, Michael, you would fall
and turn the white snow red as strawberries
in the summertime

Texas Restaurant: Fredrick's Bistro. Il est Francais.

Yeah, this one isn't in LA, but it stilled passed the expectations bar, believe it or not. On the outside, you can't even see through the windows into this mysterious place that's open from just 11 am to 2:30 pm. My mom and I were on the adventurous side today so we parked in the sweltering heat and ventured in. As soon as the door swung open I heard, "Hello, how are you?" My eyes found a silver-haired man standing with his hand out. Do I shake it? I extended my hand and he raised it to his lips and kissed it. Oh, boy. It's one of those restaurant managers. He did the same to my mom. "Two? Follow me, ladies," he said. At the booth, he unfolded our napkins and laid them in our laps. Mom and I couldn't help looking up at each other and smirking. It was like watching a Saturday Night Live skit and we were the only ones in on the joke.
We were given two small rolls of French bread and a dish of fluffy, room-temperature butter. That's it. Just two rolls and water before the meal. Based on the recommendation from our waitress, we ordered parmesan-crusted rainbow trout with an avocado relish (for Mom) and pan-seared salmon with artichoke hearts in a champagne sauce (me). While waiting for the food, Mother continued to be amazed at how packed the place was. I, on the other hand, was more interested in the dim lighting during day time and the fact that I was the youngest eater in the room.
Our dishes arrived with the waiter saying, "Careful, the plates are very hot." No shit. He wasn't kidding. My hand merely brushed the rim and I could imagine hot coils from an oven. No wonder the French take their sweet time eating. The food stays hot for an hour on those scorching plates of fury! But man were they pretty to look at. A puff of creamy mashed potatoes that looked squeezed from a frosting tube, a single spear of perfectly cooked asparagus, two plucks of broccoli, and a tender roasted tomato stuffed with seasonings. Looking around, I could tell these sides were routine with each main course.
Mom and I immediately cut off pieces of our fish, placed them on our bread dishes for the other to try. Her trout was crunchy and salty while my salmon was juicy and salmony in the beige champagne sauce. Halfway through, we were both full and decided to box it up to take home. Five hours later I wrapped the leftovers in foil and put the fish in the oven to eat again. Totally worth it.

Pointing out the obvious. MGMT is a ridiculously cute band.

Andrew Vanwyngarden. Awesome name for an awesome face. Oh, and there music rocks too.

Attention obese people and parents of toddlers: I wish you didn't exist.

You might be wondering what's causing me to write this article. Well, here's your answer: I had to sit in a relatively small movie theater today for two hours watching the delightful Toy Story 3 for the second time. To my left was an obese mother. And the 50-foot radius between me and walls was packed with parents and their noisy toddlers.
The large woman to my left was seen as a disgrace to my mother, who was sitting to my right and shaking her head and drinking her orange tea with pity as the woman told her husband she wanted the value box with popcorn. Handful after handful, she put away the popcorn, as much as there was, in a small amount of time. She reminded me of a baby eating Cheerios off a highchair trey. Pretty eye-rolling from a grown up. I even noticed that had she been five pounds heavier, she wouldn't be able to squeeze between the arm rests comfortably.
Given this is Toy Story, we were definitely not spared in the child annoyance department. It made me think, Hey, Dana Carvey is right when he said, "Let's use our inside voices? What ever happened to Shut the fuck up?!" Good point, sir. Next to my mom was a row of at least 3 toddlers, non over the age of four. They made squealed, attempted sentences, and wailed like screeching door hinges every few minutes to which my mother responded by glaring in that direction till they stopped. Neither of us are ones for tolerance when it comes to misbehavior, but I did have to tell her to stop staring because it was bothering me.
So, parents, wait till your kids are least five to leave the house. Keep your little ones on the leaches with the mouth guards to keep them quiet. And please, for the love of God, extra butter is not the answer.

I want to be Johnny Weir's lady partner.

I don't care that he wore a man corset and gyrated on ice to Lady Gaga or that he wears glittery lip gloss all the time. He is a truly modern, sexy, intelligent being and I want him to teach me ice skating. Badly. Very badly.