<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:44:27.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>La Femme Goes To San Diego</title><subtitle type='html'>From Austin to LA to San Diego...and eventually back to Texas</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-6369124647281733890</id><published>2009-05-15T10:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T10:20:02.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrity Morph by MyHeritage</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTI*MjQwNzQ4NzE5OSZwdD*xMjQyNDA3NzE2MDY4JnA9MTEwNTcxJmQ9bW9ycGgmbj1ibG9nZ2VyJmc9MiZ*PSZvPTNkNDJkMGQyNjJlOTRlMzU4MWNjY2ZkNTVlYmMxZjY3Jm9mPTA=.gif" /&gt;&lt;table height="1" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" border="0"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td height="1"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.myheritagefiles.com/videos/R/28/ebgt10_816107753ad0a4lazs5610" width="340" height="340" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.myheritage.com"  &gt;MyHeritage&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;a href="http://www.myheritage.com"  &gt;Family tree&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://www.myheritage.com/genealogy"  &gt;Genealogy&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://celebrity.myheritage.com/celebrities"  &gt;Celebrity&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-6369124647281733890?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/6369124647281733890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=6369124647281733890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/6369124647281733890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/6369124647281733890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2009/05/celebrity-morph-by-myheritage.html' title='Celebrity Morph by MyHeritage'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-8543924466826125574</id><published>2009-04-14T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T14:24:23.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New blog</title><content type='html'>So, I've thought about it.....what do i really want to write about? Golf.  So i've decided to do just that. Golf with a girls perspective.  You can except posts about how hot so and so is, what a douche one guy is, but mostly genuine enthusiasm for the game. Haven't thought of a name just yet...any ideas are welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-8543924466826125574?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/8543924466826125574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=8543924466826125574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/8543924466826125574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/8543924466826125574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2009/04/new-blog.html' title='New blog'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-2254511877743362525</id><published>2009-03-31T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T09:55:32.987-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salty</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SdJKPSLiGPI/AAAAAAAAAGE/pzl2LqRmLcE/s1600-h/opening+ceremony.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SdJKPSLiGPI/AAAAAAAAAGE/pzl2LqRmLcE/s320/opening+ceremony.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319395736316680434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Golfer me: You can't really see how golfy I am but slacks, tennis shoes, golf shirt. It's pretty hard to look remotely attractive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I really have quite certain nobody ever reads this, I would like to give credit where credit is due for my return, even if it's short-lived.  Constance encouraged me to keep writing, and you know I have the time now at work so why not?  The tournament is over, i find myself running checking the same websites again and again because i have nothing to do.  There's only so many friends getting married and having babies to fill my time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe it's April, I've been a California girl for 10 months now.  I didn't really expect me to be able to leave Texas behind and not really look back....but San Diego feels like home now.  I came to that realization last week when I was in Austin for SXSW...maybe it the influx of hipsters or having san diego friends with me or seeing most of my Austin friends growing up and moving on, but Austin didn't feel like home.  I love Austin, I'll always love it....and who knows maybe I'll be back there eventually but my goals have definitely shifted the past several months.  It's a great and sad feeling to have that part of my life in the past.  I miss the great years of the Lords of A-Town. I think it's safe to say that 85% of that group has either gotten married or moved to New York with the exception of me, the west coaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, let's see.....I adore golf.  Like full on obsessed, in love, would run away and elope with golf.  I did not see it coming.  I really just saw my job as a stepping stone, and I still see it as such.  A stepping stone to eventually work for the Tour.  Or marry a golfer.  Either or really.  I loved golf as a kid, first set of clubs when I was 4. Grew up watching my dad and watching it on Sundays with him.  It was a way of life.  And i thought i left that behind me when I went to college....little did I know that it was dormant and would come back in full force.  I watch a live stream on Thursdays and Fridays at work. I sometimes dvr it.  You bet I watch it on Saturdays and Sundays...I know.  Granted, some of the love came from the excitement of watching a certain player that I met during our tournament.  I think it just woke a sleeping giant.  Because i watch it.  All the time.  And i love it.  Like next week for example, it's the ultimate weekend.  Easter and The Masters with my Dad.  Yes please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/nerwin/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SdJKA15-IsI/AAAAAAAAAF8/MjY5BPaT3z8/s1600-h/nick.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SdJKA15-IsI/AAAAAAAAAF8/MjY5BPaT3z8/s320/nick.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319395488208659138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Favorite picture from the tournament.  He won and took almost close to a million so I'm not really making fun of him.  I will say if he hadn't decided to get back with his gold digging ex fiance, I might have put up another picture. Just saying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/nerwin/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-2254511877743362525?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/2254511877743362525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=2254511877743362525' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/2254511877743362525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/2254511877743362525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2009/03/salty.html' title='Salty'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SdJKPSLiGPI/AAAAAAAAAGE/pzl2LqRmLcE/s72-c/opening+ceremony.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-2675495346650325579</id><published>2008-12-05T14:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T18:14:31.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Something's Gone Awry</title><content type='html'>I feel like I'm in a lull. i don't believe this has anything to do with me turning 25 in 3 weeks...i think that is merely coincidental. But holy crap, where did this year go? I feel like I just had my 24th birthday. I love that on my birthday last year i wrote the following in my journal:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"24 just feels like it will be a life-changing year.  I don't even know what that means, but it just feels like it will be."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not where i thought I would be right now. I thought LA would be my home, I thought I'd have my hipster boyfriend, I don't know what I thought. I'm living in a city that blows me away with how beautiful it is on a daily basis, I'm excited about the friendships that are starting to form, I finally have a job in sports, but I still find myself in this lull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to think that I'm a good judge of character.  So, when I find out that I was completely off, I'm thrown for a huge loop.  Especially this time.  I keep finding out more and more, so much so that I have no idea what my reaction will be when i see this person again because I feel like I have no idea who the person is behind the facade. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to the lull ending soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-2675495346650325579?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/2675495346650325579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=2675495346650325579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/2675495346650325579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/2675495346650325579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/12/somethings-gone-awry.html' title='Something&apos;s Gone Awry'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-5554784483484710157</id><published>2008-11-25T09:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T15:52:22.957-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunset schmunset</title><content type='html'>Last night....in San Diego...while driving home from work.....&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SSw2RFf71nI/AAAAAAAAAF0/GUHYuOjeiFQ/s1600-h/sunset.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272648930905806450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SSw2RFf71nI/AAAAAAAAAF0/GUHYuOjeiFQ/s320/sunset.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.....best sunset I've seen since living in California.  And it came on a day when i really needed to see such beauty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so ready to be back in Texas. Family, best friends, college football, and Austin....all things i love.  I'm thankful for where I'm at in life right now-there's no question that San Diego is where I feel like I'm supposed to be and I'm excited to love this city more than I already do.  Which will be easy come December through March-WHALE SEASON!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My flight is at 6:40 tonight-don't get into San Antonio until 1:30 am....ugh.  On the upside, I'll finally get to listen to the new music from my emusic downloads! And if Lorne comes through with the airport pickup, an even later night/early morning at IHOP.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-5554784483484710157?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/5554784483484710157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=5554784483484710157' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/5554784483484710157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/5554784483484710157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/11/sunset-schmunset.html' title='Sunset schmunset'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SSw2RFf71nI/AAAAAAAAAF0/GUHYuOjeiFQ/s72-c/sunset.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-5870078073727542128</id><published>2008-11-21T15:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T16:11:12.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shipwreck eyes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I know, it's been awhile. But I have another hour of work, and I don't feel like working. My voicemail light is blinking red and telling me I should get back to work, but i just can't do it. My brain won't allow it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been listening to Thao for the past 6 months-so good. I'm just now starting to hear some of her solo stuff...and although I generally prefer her work with the band on "We Brave Bee Stings and All", this track is well worth a listen (or twelve, in my case). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thao Nguyen's song Tallymarks off her solo album "Like the Linen" has some of my favorite lyrics ever. I'm usually not a fan of meta songwriting but the song is so adorable that I can forgive her and embrace the embarrassed, sweet little chorus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"But I think I might miss you enough to say so,&lt;br /&gt;and I think I already did.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I think I might miss you enough to say so.&lt;br /&gt;There you go, I just said it again."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It hits a little to close to home at the moment. Or maybe i'm just delirious from getting little to no sleep last night. All i know, is that I want to be back in texas right now, all bundled up in front of a fire - it sounds like the most comforting thing. I can't wait to be back for five days! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh yeah to rewind my life back 2 months.....it's funny how God works. I went back to Austin for ACL Festival - granted I had already planned on being there for ACL, but it was also a trip to get me prepared to move back to Texas. I had maybe been in Austin for 4 hrs when i got the call. The call offering me a job...in San Diego...as a Charity Coordinator with The Buick Invitational. I didn't hesitate, I accepted immediately. And I moved to San Diego as soon as I got back to LA. God definitely has a sense of humor, as soon as I was taking it into my own hands, he guided me in a different direction. Gotta love it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Definitely been a blessing. For many reasons, moving and starting a job provided an escape. And i don't think escapes are always for the best, but it's what i felt like i needed. And while I feel so much stronger than I ever thought possible, I don't feel strong enough to fully deal with this. And not that it doesn't cross my mind at least 15 times a day, it does. I think it will for a long time. I trust that I'll be able to accept it, deal with it, and move on...but right now, i don't want to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But anyways, I have a new job, my own studio apartment, and i'm having fun.  My apartment below....still very much a work in progress.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271267494342848770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SSdN25RecQI/AAAAAAAAAFg/ahfq8xgDdYU/s320/living+room.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-5870078073727542128?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/5870078073727542128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=5870078073727542128' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/5870078073727542128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/5870078073727542128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/11/shipwreck-eyes.html' title='Shipwreck eyes'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SSdN25RecQI/AAAAAAAAAFg/ahfq8xgDdYU/s72-c/living+room.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-3415755063924274720</id><published>2008-09-18T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T21:14:18.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You're so vain, I bet you think this blog is about you</title><content type='html'>There are a couple reasons why I've stopped posting. &lt;br /&gt;1. Fairly certain no one reads this.  And while, I'm not entirely writing this in the vain hope that people will think I'm witty and smart, that's part of it. &lt;br /&gt;2. Writing makes me think about being unemployed even more than I already think about it.   I more have the problem with trying to act like things are fine and writing about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;such inane&lt;/span&gt; things, while my mind is constantly consumed with such heavy thoughts. I just can't seem to do it, which is such a bummer because I find such joy in inane things.  I feel like I'm not allowing myself to fully experience where I am right now because I'm worried about where I go from here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could live more in the moment, if there's one thing I could change about myself, it would be that.  I envy those who can truly live in the now.  There aren't many moments that I feel like I'm fully present, enjoying the moment, savoring the experience.  I find myself always thinking about what's next, is this going to get my there, will this 4 month gap in jobs hurt me down the road. Or thinking about the past....did i say the wrong thing, what did i do wrong.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind feels heavy-I am just so mentally drained.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-3415755063924274720?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/3415755063924274720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=3415755063924274720' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/3415755063924274720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/3415755063924274720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/09/youre-so-vain-i-bet-you-think-this-blog.html' title='You&apos;re so vain, I bet you think this blog is about you'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-8169548398793310068</id><published>2008-07-29T17:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T11:06:35.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When the house is a-rockin....</title><content type='html'>Well, another first.  I felt my first earthquake this morning! I was just sitting in the apartment reading my book, when it sounded like someone was running up the sidewalk to the door.  I definitely thought someone was about to barge in so I was scared.  Then the apt started to rumble, I had like 10 seconds or so of, "what the hell is going on". When it clicked-earthquake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being that it's hard to be prepared for something you've never experienced, for a few seconds, I thought, "That's it, the world is coming to an end, and I will be found in the most mismatched outfit and bed-head hair."  I know, it's a very shallow thought, but I thought it.  Just ask Stephanie, she saw me this morning-she knows what I'm talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after the earth stood still again, I immediately called my mom(who pretty much feels obligated to answer all of my calls because of the possible impending breakdown that could happen at any moment from not having an apt or a job or anything really.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I found out it was a 5.8 quake.  I like that I've gotten this whole earthquake thing out of the way, so now I know how it's going to feel and hopefully next time my heart won't feel like it's about to jump out of my chest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-8169548398793310068?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/8169548398793310068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=8169548398793310068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/8169548398793310068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/8169548398793310068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/07/when-house-is-rocking.html' title='When the house is a-rockin....'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-406482081185622525</id><published>2008-07-25T16:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T16:41:15.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad celebrity sightings are my favorite</title><content type='html'>First of all, I love that I am blessed with awkward D-list(or lower) celebrity sightings.  It’s the only way to go.  The A-listers are cool and all, and I wouldn’t mind seeing John Krasinski out and about because how else is he going to fall in love with be and decide to quit acting to work at a paper company and be Jim forever.  But seriously, I like seeing “celebrities”, actually the people I see probably are past the point of being referred to as celebrities, more like people who once upon the time were popular and that’s it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I was at Abbott’s Pizza in Venice and noticed a cute guy at the counter eating a slice with WAY too much lettuce and other things that have no business on a pizza.  I looked past the green “California” pizza because he was cute.  We eye-flirted a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stood up to leave and had this huge crumb in his beard, then it clicked.  It was Xander from Buffy the Vampire Slayer!  I think it's funny, but this story seems to be lost on everyone because apparently I'm the only one who watched Buffy.  I think people are lying.  Buffy was on for like 8 years-you people watched this show, don't be ashamed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to find a better clip of the show to put on here-to hopefully inspire you to confess your love for the show, but instead I found this.  "Funny" moments from Season 4, set to the music of Blink 182.  You remember them. It's okay, admit it you liked them too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oRl-FICkZ4I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oRl-FICkZ4I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone knows where Ryan Gosling or John Krasinski go to eat pizza....I'm all ears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-406482081185622525?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/406482081185622525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=406482081185622525' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/406482081185622525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/406482081185622525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/07/bad-celebrity-sightings-are-my-favorite.html' title='Bad celebrity sightings are my favorite'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-97665577181070796</id><published>2008-07-18T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T15:13:31.775-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Elf Ears</title><content type='html'>So, this week was another tough one.  However here is one of the good stories that came of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at Best Buy the other day exchanging my headset for my phone. Oh yeah, on July 1st California made it a law that people cannot talk on their cell phones in their car without a headset.  And I have to say, I was so against this headset business because I hate it when I look over at someone and think they're talking to themselves and I'm a little amused, until I realize they're talking to the little electronic thing attached to their ear. I've changed my tune, but I have not changed my tune about people continuing to talk on these things when they're no longer driving- it's kinda like people talking on their cell phone while checking out somewhere(i'm not completely excusing myself of this, but I can count on 1 hand how many times I've done this.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I've changed my tune, so aside from the fact that people have to be driving better and fewer wrecks happening, as Stephanie pointed out yesterday, you can now sing in your car without people having any idea you're singing in your car. I had not yet thought of that!  If only there could be a way to clap in your cars, without people knowing you're clapping to music.  Which if you're one of the few that have every witnessed this, you know that I freaking love to clap to songs.  Umm I'm not sure that there's anything better than that.  Sometimes songs are just so good that you have to clap.  It's true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sidetracked, back to the story.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I'm talking to the Best Buy guy about why I have to exchange my headset:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Me: "The headset refuses to stay on my ear, and I know I have small ears, but apparently I have freakishly small ears because it falls of every 5 seconds."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best Buy Dude: " Who doesn't these days? It's like a genetic defect.  Everyone has small ears."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, is there any validity to that whatsoever?  I wanted to tell him that I was going to buy something so there was no need for the awkward nonsensical chit-chat.  And that I'm pretty sure what he just said was maybe the most ridiculous thing I've heard in awhile. But I didn't, after staring blankly at him for a few seconds, I did the right thing and fake laughed.  Or was it the right thing, and that's why people continue to make awful jokes these days? Because of people like me who give them the laugh, even if it's fake, it still encourages them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I'm choosing to remember this week.  The 30 second conversation about small ears, and not how I took a 10 page test on the NFL.  Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-97665577181070796?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/97665577181070796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=97665577181070796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/97665577181070796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/97665577181070796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/07/elf-ears.html' title='Elf Ears'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-2882941966271243539</id><published>2008-07-08T17:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T17:42:32.891-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scranton</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PbdGN9jy7Qk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PbdGN9jy7Qk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, i love that there are people out there that have nothing else better to do than make cheesy montage videos and put them on Youtube.  And yes I realize that I am one of many who spend hours watching them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Saturday, we went on a quest to Van Nuys.  A quest to find Scranton Business Park aka where my tv boyfriend works. Steph, who seriously has the best sense of direction, found the place singlehandedly.  It was so exciting to see the Dunder Mifflin Parking signs and know that this is where all of these hilarious moments were filmed.  I freaking love The Office. So yeah, chalk up another reason why I love living here. See below for a completely dorky picture of me, in front of my favorite office building that will ever exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHP_z-mALXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/5asSoYj7ZZY/s1600-h/DSC03631.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHP_z-mALXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/5asSoYj7ZZY/s320/DSC03631.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220797661493341554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;That's all I got.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-2882941966271243539?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/2882941966271243539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=2882941966271243539' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/2882941966271243539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/2882941966271243539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/07/scranton.html' title='Scranton'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHP_z-mALXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/5asSoYj7ZZY/s72-c/DSC03631.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-1988187509007939736</id><published>2008-07-06T22:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T09:05:12.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>America F*!# Yeah!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHL2l6lwp_I/AAAAAAAAABs/7VF1n0Mpsv4/s1600-h/DSC00754.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHL2l6lwp_I/AAAAAAAAABs/7VF1n0Mpsv4/s320/DSC00754.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220506049319053298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until July 4th, I'll admit that I hadn't really missed Texas(aside from family and a few amazing friends of course!) But yeah I'm telling you, I have never in my life wanted to set off a bottle rocket more than I did on Friday. I was craving everything Texas all weekend.  I didn't know I loved BBQ until it was taken away from me.  I'm tentative on even trying a barbeque place out here, I need to remember to bring bbq sauce back with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was my first July 4th in LA and I think it was the first of many!  Mark my words, I will do fireworks next year, even if it gets me arrested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHKS6hQGq3I/AAAAAAAAABk/uRvgzl_MmVY/s1600-h/n1253550034_30047693_8916.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHKS6hQGq3I/AAAAAAAAABk/uRvgzl_MmVY/s320/n1253550034_30047693_8916.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220396452131810162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended up at this awesome rooftop in Marina Del Rey to watch fireworks.  It was the best view , you could see like 5 different fireworks shows going on across all of LA-pretty awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In memory of awesome Texas-made July 4ths...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHKSuIZQHXI/AAAAAAAAABc/F8971VegeWw/s1600-h/IMG_0713.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHKSuIZQHXI/AAAAAAAAABc/F8971VegeWw/s320/IMG_0713.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220396239300861298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-1988187509007939736?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/1988187509007939736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=1988187509007939736' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/1988187509007939736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/1988187509007939736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/07/america-f-yeah.html' title='America F*!# Yeah!'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SHL2l6lwp_I/AAAAAAAAABs/7VF1n0Mpsv4/s72-c/DSC00754.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-4506321563309492317</id><published>2008-06-23T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T13:47:42.589-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LA Hipsters</title><content type='html'>Best weekend I've had in a long time. I am really loving living in LA...I am a little shocked at how much I am enjoying it, but it just feels right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday, I went to Peter's house in Silverlake for brunch. I know, unexpected but we are a we again.  maybe not the best idea but there's just something there and we both keep going back for it even if it makes no sense in the long run. And i fully moved out here intending to never hear from him, but of course he can sense when I'm almost fully over it and before I know it, I'm fully submerged again. Which I am...fully.  It just all has been different with him, he's been up-front from the get go.  So nice to finally meet a guy that isn't into the games.  He made it clear he was into me and wasn't going to walk away my initial wishy washiness. And for being such a rough guy who's definitely still in his rebellious mode, he's so sweet with me.  For now, I just want to enjoy being able to see him more and dancing with him at shows and just being with him. And take much pleasure in what an odd pair we are....a short,innocent texas girl and a TALL lanky full on hipster/skater.  okay i'm done, sorry to my family if that was way too much information. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, he was cooking brunch for his roommates and wanted me to meet everyone.....this from a self-proclaimed jerk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After brunch we went to Little Radio's Summer Camp. I will definitely be going back to this place-maybe one of the most favorite things I've ever been to. It was in this warehouse in downtown LA(and not good downtown LA, scary downtown LA). Inside there were bands playing and free beer, but outside there was a waterslide, a pool, badminton set up, a dj, and tons of hipsters laying out in the sun. i loved it. Seriously it was awesome, and not just because of all the incredibly bad tattoos we saw. It was just a perfect way to spend a lazy Saturday afternoon in 90 degree weather.  Peter and I totally kicked butt in badminton (I think him being 6'5 helps).  Yep, fully back in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you're wondering what hipsters wear at a pool party, here's a visual for you: guys in super super short shorts and girls in skimpy bikinis. Neither should necessarily be wearing that, but nobody cares and that's what i love about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FYI. Peter and I were not sporting hipster attire.  He in board shorts and I not in a skimpy bikini.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-4506321563309492317?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/4506321563309492317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=4506321563309492317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/4506321563309492317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/4506321563309492317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/06/la-hipsters.html' title='LA Hipsters'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-1674353824772803311</id><published>2008-06-18T18:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T20:18:46.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A little bit of turkey at the beach</title><content type='html'>I went to the beach for a couple hours today, quite content to lay there basking in the perfect heat, while listening to the waves and maybe even reading my new book, " A Prayer for Owen Meany."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 20 pages into the book, some kid interrupted me and asked me if I was in a movie. I couldn't totally understand him but I'm pretty sure he said Baby Got Back.  I could be mistaken.  But thinking about it now, I wonder if he was making a joke.  Yeah I have no idea but I'm not even to the funniest part yet.  So, he apparently takes my hint of looking at my phone to mean I want to have a conversation with him, so he sits down.  He asks where I'm from and when I say Austin(I dropped Boerne because I just don't want to have to go through that whole dog and pony anymore about yeah the town is called Boerne, yep it's near san antonio, and that whole thing, so I'm now from Austin).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tells me that he's going to Austin next week.  Wait for it......on a class trip because he just graduated.  HIGH SCHOOL.  After a few minutes of inane conversation, he went back to his friends.    He comes back only to ask if I needed any sunscreen because he didn't use any and look at this(proceeds to lift his shirt up to show me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 30 or so minutes of beautiful alone time, these 2 guys set up shop at the most 2 feet away from me.  Seriously?  It's a huge beach, and it's Wednesday-beach is not crowded.  But whatever, I sense a guy wanting awkward conversation so I hurried to turn my ipod on....he beat me to the punch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"You look like a model, you are one yes? Models smoke cigarettes, can we smoke on the beach?"&lt;/blockquote&gt;After a few minutes of laughter on my part, I tell him he can't smoke on the beach and I am definitely not a model.  I mean come on guys, you gotta get better pick up lines if you're going to try and pick up women. And maybe not be a 39 yr old Turkish man with a hairy back.  Ahim and his nephew are from Turkey.  Ahim didn't stop with the questions.  I mean really, I am obviously looking at my ipod because I want to listen to music.  He was nice though, I'll give him that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of nowhere, high school boy is back and sitting his 18 yr old toosh right next to me-i mean right next to me.  He starts talking to Ahim and being a total 18 yr old douchebag.  He then asks me if I'm leaving anytime soon.  I think his plan was to come in and "rescue" me from the Turkish guy.  So high school guy gets the picture and leaves, but not before he showed me his chest again for no reason. No more gratuitous chest showing please, thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after all that,  Turkish guy proceeds to ask me to go to the beach with them tomorrow and drive because I have a car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly, all the way in Austin, sensed something was happening and called me. I am so glad we have that psychic connection.  I did the classic, it's my friend I have to take this excuse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess lesson learned is I am totally in with high school boys and Turkish men....score one for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-1674353824772803311?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/1674353824772803311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=1674353824772803311' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/1674353824772803311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/1674353824772803311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/06/little-bit-of-turkey-at-beach.html' title='A little bit of turkey at the beach'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-4048781637149243264</id><published>2008-06-17T15:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T23:51:00.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Me gustan toothpicks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFhD3IvjcdI/AAAAAAAAABM/Obc8Ht0by8Q/s1600-h/toothpicks2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFhD3IvjcdI/AAAAAAAAABM/Obc8Ht0by8Q/s320/toothpicks2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212991183200154066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After much thought, I feel I should explain my love for toothpicks.  And yes, I have a lot of free time on my hands, I don't need you to point that out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started with my Dad.  After every meal, you could find him with a toothpick, he even had a thing in his car full of toothpicks.  I thought it was weird, I think even annoyed me - but I think that's because he made an awful sucking noise.  I digress.  Maybe a few months ago, I realized that there was more to a toothpick than just checking to see if the middle of a cake was done or making it more fun to pick up grapes and other food.  Not only can it get food out of your teeth, but it also can make you look like you have an edge. But really though, how convenient are they?  They can fit right into your purse or wallet and can save you from embarrassment-broccoli in the teeth anyone? think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new favorite thing is driving with my windows down, aviators on, and a toothpick in my mouth.  I know, it's a little weird.  But I'm a little weird. And hey, if you're feeling artsy-look at what you can make with a million toothpicks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-4048781637149243264?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/4048781637149243264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=4048781637149243264' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/4048781637149243264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/4048781637149243264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/06/me-gusta-tootpicks.html' title='Me gustan toothpicks'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFhD3IvjcdI/AAAAAAAAABM/Obc8Ht0by8Q/s72-c/toothpicks2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9030697731892844710.post-6993107815412254149</id><published>2008-06-02T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T13:04:28.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Clickity Clack</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFLeEX21AVI/AAAAAAAAABE/Fs-Djbr_M1E/s1600-h/DSC00717.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFLeEX21AVI/AAAAAAAAABE/Fs-Djbr_M1E/s320/DSC00717.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211471885525909842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I feel like I should preface the fact that I only deci&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ded &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;to have a blog in order to keep ya'll updated on my new &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;life i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;n California. Writing that freaks me out a lot less than I thought it would.  I'm here, I guess going on a week now.....and I really like it.  Linsey and Stephanie get the credit for that, they have been really great and it's been so fun hanging out with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; them.  I'm really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;excited to start fresh and be completely out of my comfort zone-I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; fig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ure it'll be a great time to learn m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ore about m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;yself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFK4Ln21AOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Exy3cXrT2ss/s1600-h/DSC00629.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFK4Ln21AOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Exy3cXrT2ss/s320/DSC00629.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211430228638105826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Our roadtrip w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;o put it simply, awesome.  We left Wednesday morning and arrived in Marfa, Texas.  We some&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;what knew what to expect, but it surpassed our expectations.  The whole tow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;n &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;kno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ws each other, which means we were obvious outsiders.  We walked around the ghost town and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; asked someone where we should eat.  The answer, "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; Well there's Maiya's or Alice's...wait is Alice's even open tonight?"  So apparentl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;y a Wednesday night in Marfa isn't the most happening nig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ht....no late night dance fest or whatever it is they do out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; there(or at least nothing that we knew about.)  We went to dinner and felt like we needed to be chain-smoking, have a scorpion tattoo, and a bandana around the neck(tied just so that it doesn't look like you spent 20 minutes in the mirror&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;).  We were hanging out in the hotel room before going to see the Marfa Lights, when Linsey looked down into&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; the room below us.  A pho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;shoot was in progress.  We saw a women in lingerie posing in front of t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;he fireplace.  So we did what anyone would do in that situation, watch and listen.  It passed the time. We did see The Marfa Lights-so weird.  How awesome would it be if it was just some kid playing this elaborate practical joke?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The next day we drove to Phoenix.  There were several good photo op&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;s on the way.   This place called The Thing was advertised for like 200 miles, so of course we stopped to check it out....and you all should do the same.  I found a postcard with A WHALE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; ROCK! I know, freakin awesome. We went on a whale rock hunt, and while we didn't find the rock from the postcard, we did find this one.  And i don't care what you say, in my heart and to my eyes, it's a whale.  I was very happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFK5R321API/AAAAAAAAAAU/1JuBrt1udN0/s1600-h/DSC00669.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFK5R321API/AAAAAAAAAAU/1JuBrt1udN0/s320/DSC00669.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211431435523916018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFK57321AQI/AAAAAAAAAAc/ub881jjLMPs/s1600-h/DSC00681.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFK57321AQI/AAAAAAAAAAc/ub881jjLMPs/s320/DSC00681.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211432157078421762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The next day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; we drov&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;e to Sedona-it was absolutely beautiful! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We hiked a little bit and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;walked ar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;oun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;d the town- wh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;o knew Arizona was so pretty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We arrived in LA around midnight Friday night.  We are 95% certain we saw a UFO upon driving into California and we weren't delirious at all.  We may or may not had a strobe light dance party using Susan, my new GPS Friend, who likes to play around and take us to places we didn't want to go and having us end up in Malibu instead of The Getty Center.  I didn't know Susan was a special when I bought her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;During this trip, I learned I have an affinity for two things: Toothpicks and reading online restaurant reviews.  Seriously ask Linsey or Stephanie, it's so much fun.  If I could get paid to do that.... So we went to this all you can eat sushi place, Midori. It was delicious! All I know is Linsey stole like 50 individually wrapped toothpicks and I was one happy girl. A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;s seen below:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFLWhH21ARI/AAAAAAAAAAk/p1rX4oeEWyQ/s1600-h/DSC00738.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFLWhH21ARI/AAAAAAAAAAk/p1rX4oeEWyQ/s320/DSC00738.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211463583354126610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFLcr321AUI/AAAAAAAAAA8/U9H0voVgEos/s1600-h/DSC00737.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFLcr321AUI/AAAAAAAAAA8/U9H0voVgEos/s320/DSC00737.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211470365107487042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That's the roadtrip and my first week in a nutshell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFLWhH21ARI/AAAAAAAAAAk/p1rX4oeEWyQ/s1600-h/DSC00738.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9030697731892844710-6993107815412254149?l=lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/feeds/6993107815412254149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9030697731892844710&amp;postID=6993107815412254149' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/6993107815412254149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9030697731892844710/posts/default/6993107815412254149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lafemmegoestohollywood.blogspot.com/2008/06/clickity-clack.html' title='Clickity Clack'/><author><name>La Femme</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rY2ZSE5deN8/SFLeEX21AVI/AAAAAAAAABE/Fs-Djbr_M1E/s72-c/DSC00717.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
