Friday, February 24, 2006

I hate when that happens

Oops, I just had an inadvertent flirting-while-driving moment. I was getting down to some Poison (thanks, Jack FM!), drumming away on my steering wheel and singing out loud. In my peripheral vision, I could see a guy in a delivery truck drumming a similar beat, so I turn to look at him, right when I get to the unfortunately worded chorus: "Talk dirty to me!"

So then we pulled over and made out. I had no other choice, right?

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

We are PUMPED!

What? The wrapping paper and LA Weekly pages hanging over the window in the living room? Oh, that. Well, funny story (not really funny. Not funny at all, actually. But a story nonetheless. Wait, what counts as a story? Maybe I should just explain why the window looks that way without worrying about the intro so much.).

Okay, so last week I bought Kinetic for Playstation 2. It uses the EyeToy technology, which is a little camera you put on top of the TV so you’re on the screen in the middle of the action of whatever game you’re playing. Kinetic is like a workout video on crack! You get a personal trainer (choose a sexy British woman who reminds me of the bitchy trainer on The Biggest Loser, or an equally sexy American dude) who takes you through a 12-week program. You set up a profile, take a photo of yourself, answer a few questions, and *boom*, you’re off and running your personalized workout program!

The series of workouts include games that you interact with as an image on the screen. Objects fly at you and you have to punch or kick or sweep to eliminate them or bob and weave to avoid them. There are walls of bricks to punch out, discs to move along a target, asteroidy things to knock into space, and even optional yoga and floor exercises. Your trainer talks you through the workout, leads you through warm ups and cooldowns, and grades you for the day. Let me tell you, this thing blows the Jane Fonda video I did as teenager out of the water! The camera can be a little twitchy and it took us several configurations with the lights and furniture in the room to figure out the best set up, but once we got going, we were so into it! I’ve been rushing home from work to do it every night (my freakin’ arms are freakin’ killing me!), and N even woke up early to get his workout in! Next time you see us we’re gonna be RIPPED!

Oh, so the wrapping paper thing. If you’ve been to our place, you know how we don’t have anything covering the windows and we can see right into the neighbors’ place (and vice-versa). Well, this game requires a lot of waving at the TV to change modes (no controller is used), not to mention all the punches and kicks and yoga and floor exercises. There’s nothing like having the neighbors think you’re obsessively waving at them! When I saw the neighbors were home last night, I scrounged around the house to find something to cover the window. First I tried tacking a sheet up, but the wall is like solid concrete or something, so the tack did nothing. Then I remembered a roll of ugly wrapping paper that I knew I’d never use anyway, so I put that up, but found out I didn’t have enough for the whole window. Finally, I found an old LA Weekly, so I pulled a few pages out and taped them up as well. It’s a nice little collage! Eclektra, you’d be so proud (or disgusted. Don’t worry, I’m going to find a more permanent temporary solution this week.).

Anyway, so that’s why you won’t recognize us next time you see us (or why you, neighbors, can’t see us eating our dinners in front of the living room TV anymore).

Monday, February 13, 2006

Livin' on the Edge

Okay, so I might be a little sick of the blog thing, but I wanted to tell you this (don't worry, I might get back into it more regularly...someday). Last night N and I decided to go out for our "Valentine's Day" dinner to avoid the crowds on Tuesday. We had reservations at Gyu-Kaku on La Cienega, but once we got there, I saw it was right next door to Fogo de Chao, a Brazillian steakhouse that I'd heard about. A pricey one, at that. So, after a minute of debate (not debate, really, but heavy-duty decision-making), we decided to ditch Gyu-Kaku and live it up at the $$$$ meat-on-a-stick extravaganza. It was good, but whatever with that. Halfway through our meal, I see N is distracted, so I ask what's up. He's looking over my head and says, "I'm trying to figure out if that's someone fame...oh my god, it's Aerosmith!" Seriously, Joe Perry, Steven Tyler and a gaggle of people were walking in! It was a motley crew (pun sort of intended) of people, with young kids (not their dates, as N would like you to believe), senior citizens, possible bodyguards, and roadies, all traveling as a pack, even to the restroom (we think), and especially to the salad bar, which is exactly where we were sitting (not on the salad bar, but three feet from). For the record, Steven Tyler piles his salad plate high and eats off other people's plate in line (presumably people he was with), and Joe Perry puts olive oil (or it might've been vinegar) on his bread slices. It was funny to watch little pockets of the restaurant and their reactions to the group. People our age were not-so-subtely pointing or taking cell-phone pictures. A group of nicely dressed seniors were completely oblivious. It was pretty exciting, I have to say.

In other news, things I haven't felt like writing about include finally unpacking every last box, N's birthday (thanks for coming to the party. I think the neighbors have recovered by now), my mom's week-long visit, my new commuting hours (I haven't felt like killing myself in a week!), and Dick Cheney shooting some guy (that is just classic).