The trick, not treat

Last night I had a horror movie scenario happen to me.

So I get home around 6:30 and am in the bedroom puttering around. My boyfriend works late on Mondays, so I wasn't expecting him home til later, when I heard my front door open quickly. Being the jumpy person that I am, I screamed at the intrusion. I was expecting my boyfriend to say "sorry it's just me," but instead I was met with silence. I look out my bedroom door and see the front door closing and someone leaving. I couldn't see the person, just a presense retreating. I grab the closing door and look out in the hallway to see that the hallway door, which is always propped open, is also closed. I immediately slam my door, chain and lock it and put my back against it. All I could think of was that someone had just entered my home, but was desperately hoping it was my boyfriend playing a mean trick on me, after all it was the day before Halloween. Then I thought maybe someone had the wrong apartment and was afraid to admit that they entered the wrong unit.  

I make several calls to my boyfriend, but can't get a hold of him. He finally calls me after seeing my TXT message, which read "Please call me." He was at work, I could here his colleagues in the background. My terror increased since I knew it wasn't him joking with me. I told him what happened and he said he would leave right now, but also said it was probably a mistake and that someone tried the wrong apartment or something. Yet, I started to wonder if the person actually left my apartment or if there was another person who entered my place. So now I very slowly with a steel pot in my hand, start to open closet doors and creep around my place. 

10 mins later, the front door knob slowly turned again as I stared at it in horror. Seriously this happened. I felt like I was in a Halloween film and was the babysitter or someone trapped in their house and being toyed with. 

I try to call my boyfriend again, but I get cut off since I have no bars in the apartment. You believe this shit? I've always had dodgy reception at home but of all times and we don't have a landline since we both just use our cell phones instead. It's was all starting to feel like a real horror movie, but I kept brushing that thought off. 

I finally get though to Raphael, who's now in his car and he tells me to call the police. I argue with him at first saying it could be a prank or a mistake. Angry he tells me to call 911, so I do. Explaining to the operator what happened help make me calm down a bit too, since it was very methodical. They were sending police shortly. 

Everyone arrives at the same time. The police said they checked out the area, but didn't see anyone suspicious and told us to call if anything happened again. 

Raphael does his own search later on and notices that our welcome mat is missing and that in this other section of the apartment building, on the other side of the propped door there is a person with a handkerchief around their head curled up on the floor sleeping in front of someone's door.  It seemed too much of a coincidence that this person wasn't the same person as before. So we call the police again, but not their emergency number. Again they said they'll have someone come by and take a look. 

We eat dinner and are on the couch watching TV when the door rattles again. I grab his knee in reaction and he jumps up for the door, with a golf club in hand. He barges into the hall shouting "are you looking for someone?" The person he saw on the floor earlier, is a woman and she and a couple of the neighbors are outside. Apparently the woman had just tried their doors too. She was obviously homeless and strung out. These guys next door got her to leave the building. She left saying that she was a woman and needed a place to stay and why didn't they understand? 

I get that she might have wanted to sleep inside our building in the hallway instead of outside or in our parking garage like the rest of the Venice Beach bums, but why try all of our doors repeatedly to get in? She was obviously crazy or high, but at least the mystery was solved and I wasn't being targeted specifically. It also helps knowing it was a woman, which doesn't mean she isn't still dangerous, I know. 

Crazy, huh?  For now on, I'll always lock my door as soon as I get in.
--- 

PS: I'm the only one wearing a costume in my office today :( That's OK though, it's my favorite holiday and it is fun to dress up. I even saw two homeless guys dressed up as demons asking for "change for the strange."  

 

Bonfire of the Vanities

I went to my first beach bonfire last weekend. I guess it was my first bonfire in general though. It's activities like these that I imagined doing when thinking about California over on the East coast. Very Gidget and Beach Boys-ish. And not only was it a beach bonfire but it was a Halloween beach bonfire too, so mostly everyone in our group was in costume. Raphael and I went as Spartan Cheerleaders from the SNL sketch, which works Perfect since I happen to be Cheri Oteri height. 

 You don't have to build a pit or use a metal trash bin for the fire, since the beach has several stone pits already placed in the sand for loading of wood and paper into the hallows for burning. We had arrived when it was light out and played some beach volleyball (I'm getting better) and ended with grilling meat and roasting marshmallows by the fire. Add in some contraband jello shots, punch, candy and beer and it was a festive night. If it wasn't for the warmth from the bonfire I would have been freezing, but my bare feet were still numb from the cold sand. The Pacific water felt warm in comparison.

I went home smelling of firewood and smoke as if I spent an evening at a cabin and not a night on the beach in Los Angeles, my sandy feet though proved otherwise.

Oh and my blog headline reflects the Tom Wolfe novel and was not used to infer that any of us at the bonfire are vain :p

Interview: I just did a Q&A over at Associated Content, check it out in their Blog Spotlight

The rooftop bar

Two Friday's ago my friend Caroline, who I've known since the 8th grade, was in town over the weekend for business. She does video production for the WWE and they were having a Pay Per View wrestling event at the Staples Center in downtown LA. We wanted to meet up at a shi shi bar after work over there, so we went to the Standard Downtown Hotel rooftop bar with a bunch of other friends. It reminded me of the Ganesvort Hotel and 230 5th in New York minus the views of New Jersey and the Empire State though.

The buildings were lower but so were the prices of the cocktails (barely) but this lounge also has a little pool, dance floor, more seating areas and pods. What are pods? They are three partially enclosed spade looking huts with a water bed inside. 

 

At 9:00 I had climbed down the ladder of the heated pool and entered to my knees. I was wearing a skirt and was the only one going near the pool. The editors at CitySearch.com named Standard Downtown the best outdoor bar for 2006. In their review they also write: "A small pool lined with chaise

 

lounges offers stacks of towels for anyone brave (or drunk) enough to take a dip." Oops wish I knew there were towels, I had to settle for drying myself off with cocktail napkins.

By 10:00, we were bouncing around in one of the pods.

From 11 to 12:30 we moved over to the crowded little dance floor. Oh and I also got a free cocktail for finding a guy's Georgio Armani sun glasses.   

The first dent is the deepest

I dented and scratched my new car that I just blogged about getting. It doesn't even have permanent plates yet and here I went and scraped it against the wall of my narrow garage entrance way. I was afraid that it would happen since the parking garage is so tight and crowded. I guess I got cocky since so far so good and then wham, literally.

It felt like I got hit, since the blood rushed from my face to my feet when I heard the terrible scraping sound. It's one of those bang your hand against your forehead moments, or in this case my steering wheel. I just leased the car and now I have to pay to get it fixed. At first white paint from the wall was streaked across the black paint, but I paid a car wash shop to buff out the paint and scratches. It helped remove the white paint and dim the scratches, but it wasn't a miracle worker. Here's my rear tire area with it's new dent and scratches :( It's kind of hard to see in this photo though since the black color reflects.

So that was my sucky day, but yes I know it could of been worse. I could have been in a real accident or not even have a car to hit. Plus my boyfriend cheered me up with pity flowers and a mini cake that had a sad face painted on it for my sad day.

My Celebrity Look-alikes

Check out this new online service powered by Cognitec. It does face recognition by looking at an online photo of yourself. It uses algorithms that compare the features in your face, with all faces previously known to the MyHeritage Face Recognition, through contributed photos and meta-data. Here are the matches from one of the photos that I submitted.

I'm not sure if I really look like any of those actresses, but funny enough I've been compared to Sarah Jessica Parker before. I think it's because I lived in NYC and wrote this blog though. In other phtos that I uploaded I was linked to Alicia Silverstone, Princess Di and Jennifer Aniston too. All pretty flattering at least.   It's interesting to see who the site comes up with and it's cool to see it scan your image as well.

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