liz in la

the Radish: resurrected

Long ago I, along with my esteemed coworkers, wrote weekly office updates in a faux publication we dubbed, "the radish". Please enjoy the news from 1999.

Reckless Driver Spares LightRay Car, Destroys House
An inattentive driver careened out of control on a narrow Hollywood Hills street this week, swerving sharply to avoid an automobile owned by a LightRay staff member and plowing instead through the yard and living room of an adjacent house. Upon arriving at the scene, Creative Director B Stevens profusely thanked the dazed driver for choosing the house over the parked car. "That house really needed some work anyway," stated Stevens, "so this might really have been a good thing. "

LightRay Receives Ominous Phone Call from Piano
Creative Director B Stevens received a startling call this Thursday morning from an apparently confused piano. Lack of caller I.D. in the office prevented company employees from tracing the call, which lasted about 30 seconds before Stevens had heard enough and hung up. "I know everybody talks about this thing called the language of music," stated Stevens, "but I sure as hell didn't understand a word of what I was hearing." Company psychiatrist Liz T issued a statement assuring all LightRay clients that Stevens is in sound mental condition and "fully capable of directing all office creativity."

Design Accolades Go to Microsoft??
After years of grousing and dismay as to the unsightly and un-designerly nature of browser frame displays, Lead Designer Liz T had to give it up for Microsoft Internet Explorer version 5.0 on the Mac. "Don't think it doesn't get me where I live, giving design props to the boys at Microsoft." In fact, part-time conspiracy theorist that she is, Liz believes that the new browser window may have actually been designed by a trained artist!! Popular opinion is against the idea that anyone with such highly honed design skills would be employed by the decidedly creatively-challenged corporate giant. "I believe it may have been contract work," claims Liz, "and I intend to get to the bottom of it." Creative Director B Stevens agreed to serve as temporary Chair of the Public Relations Committee and offered this statement: "I want to assure clients that while Ms. T is pursuing her detective work, all projects will remain on a normal time schedule; no delays in project deliverables are expected."

Project Coordinator Gets Flat Tire, Responds with Drunk Phone Call
Project Coordinator R.J.'s fly hoopty, a 1989 Toyota Corolla, was the unfortunate victim of a flat tire. The incident occurred deep within the recesses of Santa Monica Canyon. Fortunately, Margarita Connoisseur Liz T and her boyfriend, reputed Ninja Assassin B Cameron, were on the scene and able to fix the tire. R.J. contributed by calling an unidentified Pepperdine coed while stumbling around someone's driveway. "Hey," surmised Cameron, "R.J. fixes tires like he manages projects - from a distance and with lots of booze."

LightRay Mascot Perishes in Brutal Nighttime Attack
The company experienced a tragic loss recently of its much-loved water-dwelling mascot, Mercutio. The animal, a feisty but friendly betta fish, fell victim to an ambush last weekend by a renegade feline. Mercutio, attacked while blowing bubbles in his small glass fishbowl, was rumored by witnesses to have "put up a decent fight, but unfortunately not a victorious one". The suspect cat, now in custody, has yet to be charged for the murder. Company employees, while still working at full efficiency, are beside themselves with grief for the deceased creature. "Why Mercutio? Why our precious Mercutio?" asked LightRay Lead Designer Liz T. LightRay has declared May to be a "Month of Mourning and Excessive Wine Consumption" in remembrance of the beloved mascot.

Project Coordinator Can't Hear "The Bizkit", Asks Coworker to "Pump Up The Volume"
RJ, Project Coordinator for LightRay Productions, recently expressed his discontent at the inadequate volume at which his "Limp Bizkit" CD was enhancing the office mood. Liz T, the company's Noise Abatement Consultant, claimed that "The Bizkit" can be "detrimental to business when played at loud volumes while someone else is on the phone, having a discussion, etc." Upon lowering the volume during a recent consultation, Liz T found herself encouraged by RJ to "pump it back up, so that everyone can 'feel the flow'".

Lead Designer Stumbles Upon Four-Year-Old Email
Liz T, head of LightRay's graphic design team, was startled Monday to discover a 4-year-old piece of junk email in her computer's InBox. In a statement to the press, Liz said, "I can't believe it's been there all this time. I just must have never scrolled down far enough to find it. " Internet historians called to the scene to verify the discovery were beside themselves with joy. "It's a genuine relic," claimed Hank Wilkerson, president of the Society for Preservation of Internet Antiquities. "It's a piece of history, perfectly intact, from the very dawn of the Internet. We had no idea anything this old still existed. Furthermore, its content represents everything that is so great about modern capitalist Internet-addicted America." The email, apparently unsolicited junk mail for an online dating service, will be printed out and delivered in an armored vehicle to the SPIA museum for display. "You can never be too careful with something this valuable," explained Wilkerson.

LightRay Staff Member Breaks World Record
LightRay Creative Director B Stevens broke the world record last weekend for the number of visits to a Home Depot store within a 24-hour period. By shopping at the Hollywood branch of the national home improvement chain 63 separate times Sunday, Stevens broke the previous record by 61 visits. LightRay spokesperson Liz T announced early Monday that the company "doesn't know whether to be proud or embarrassed." Home Depot representative Hank Smith was quite pleased, claiming that Stevens "is the only customer of ours capable of single-handedly affecting our stock price."

LightRay Discovers 108th Element
Upon rising from bed Monday morning, Creative Director B Stevens discovered in his kitchen what scientists called to the scene are touting as "undoubtedly a new chemical element, likely a member of the metals group." Only twelve hours earlier, the substance had been a half-pound tri-tip steak, set to fry for five minutes in butter. "I have no recollection of actually eating that steak, " claimed Stevens in his police statement, leading investigators to believe that the meat fried for twelve hours straight on high heat, causing a chemical reaction that transformed its atomic structure. "I had no idea of what it was when I found it," added Stevens. "But it was black, real black, and it smelled bad." LightRay media relations coordinator Liz T hopes the accidental discovery will boost company exposure as the word spreads around the world. "Our current clients shouldn't fear this new business," announced T. "Our old clients still get first priority when it comes time to send out wine and other gifts."

LightRay Hammered
LightRay staff members are currently winding down from a celebratory round of drinks. Liz T, who normally would have something to say about this matter, was unable to coherently issue any sort of public statement. Creative Director B Stevens stepped in and stated, "Clients not should concerned. Projects going normal."

Following Third Explosion, Creative Director Completely Abandons Efforts to "Electrically Enhance" His Hollywood Dwelling
LightRay Creative Director B Stevens was unharmed Thursday evening as yet another brilliant flash of light, originating in his hall closet, illuminated the Hollywood Hills for a brief moment. Medical Director Liz T has placed a permanent moratorium on Stevens' electrical work, citing the need to "keep the number of LightRay staff members at it's current level." She then added, "We'd like to avoid having to hire a new Creative Director because the hiring process is a pain in the ass."

Recent Survey Reveals "Radish" Readership to be "Nonexistent"
A recent survey conducted of 1000 Internet users nationwide found that absolutely none of them had ever even heard of the LightRay Radish, let alone read it. Immediately following the survey report, Radish Publication Director Liz T stated, "There's no need to worry that we'll stop writing the Radish just because nobody reads it. This important information needs to be disseminated regardless."

LightRay Staff Member Finds Misplaced Natural Wonder
Creative Director B Stevens became momentarily disoriented Wednesday night upon discovering the apparent relocation of the famed geyser "Old Faithful" from Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming to the corner or 6th and Rossmore in the Mid-Wilshire District. A quick call to 911 revealed that authorities were on their way to the scene. Yellowstone had reported the geyser "missing since last weekend". Stevens, who had been on his way home from the office at the time, took another route home, citing the fact that "driving through a geyser in a convertible wouldn't be in the car's best interest."

Brilliant Flash of Light Illuminates Hollywood Hills
An apparently incorrect wiring combination sent a massive explosion of flames and sparks through the residence of Creative Director B Stevens Wednesday night, briefly illuminating the nearby Hollywood Hills and causing passersby to pause in wonderment. Stevens had been attempting to perform routine "do-it-yourself" electrical work in his home at the time of the incident, which left him "stunned at first, and then suddenly in the dark". The explosion followed a similar incident the previous night, discussed in the article below. Medical Director Liz T reassured clients that Stevens "is in stable condition and is more than capable of performing his regular duties, whatever they may be".

LightRay Creative Director Disregards Medication Warning; Explosion Ensues
LightRay Creative Director B Stevens, upon plugging his power sander into an unexpectedly high-voltage wall outlet, recoiled in horror as the tool, apparently overwhelmed by excess voltage, exploded in a violent display of flames and sparks. Stevens, who sarcastically lamented the need for his tenth trip to Home Depot in a 24-hour time span, was not harmed. Power Tool Supervisor Liz T informed clients that Stevens' "propensity for operating high-caliber power tools while taking copious amounts of mind-altering prescription drugs should not effect productivity. After all," T noted, "he's been hopped up all along."

Illumination Specialist Gets Hair Illuminated by Specialist
Office Illumination Specialist Liz T, citing boredom and a desire to "shake things up" recently had several blonde highlights added to her hair. Though the change in coiffure went initially unnoticed by her coworkers at LightRay, Ms. T was encouraged by the amount of cat purrs and whistles she received while walking past a nearby construction site following her appointment. Ms. T said that clients should not be concerned about the blonde highlights, stating "My duties as Medical Director and Horticultural Manager should not suffer as a result of the recent hair treatment, however I will cease work as Power Tool Supervisor immediately in an effort to ensure the safety of LightRay staff." Aspiring upper-middle-management-member RJ  explained, "Blondes and power tools just don't mix."

Staff Mourns Demise of Ficus, Remains Hopeful for Ailing Orchid
Memorial services were held Tuesday for one of the offices most beloved ficus plants. An autopsy revealed that the plant, named "Frank" by company staff, died of "complete lack of water, sunlight, and plant food". Recently-appointed Horticultural Manager Liz T has been given temporarily leave from her foliage maintenance duties pending an investigation into the recent death. "Never fear," Liz wishes to assure clients, "for I'm pleased with the recovery of the orchid on B's desk and confident that company productivity will not be affected. We're taking it one day at a time, but I'm certain that all of us here at LightRay will overcome this tragedy." Creative Director B Stevens noted with pleasure that the death marked a need for a run to Home Depot, his home on weekends and evenings, to purchase a new plant.

Company Considers Formation of Horticultural Maintenance Team
The quantity of plants in the historic LightRay offices, combined with the harsh dryness of the Los Angeles air have created an unexpected need for round-the-clock care for our leafy companions. "I've never seen plants dry out so quickly," said Creative Director B Stevens. "I see a definite need for prompt assistance in this area." Other employees expressed concern about oxygen levels in the office, worried that unhealthy plants lead to unhealthy air. "Clients should not be concerned," added Lead Designer Liz T. "Horticultural difficulties should have no effect on business."

LightRay Loses Crucial Illumination During Freak Lightbulb Burnout
Upon arrival at the office February 11, Creative Director B Stevens was disappointed to discover one of its most important light bulbs had passed away overnight. Lead Designer and Illumination Specialist Liz T assures clients, "There's no need to worry about company productivity - we work better in the dark anyway."

NDA Signings Render LightRay Staff Unable to Speak to Anyone About Anything. Ever.
Recent nondisclosure agreements signed by LightRay staff members have rendered our employees completely mute on all subjects of every kind "throughout the universe, in perpetuity, and in all languages." Public Relations director Liz T attempted to reassure clients that projects underway would not be affected by this development, but her announcement was deemed an NDA violation and stricken from all public records.

Project Coordinator Caught in Violent Bar Brawl
Esteemed Project Coordinator RJ  was recently caught in the crossfire as an friend and associate bloodied an ill-tempered degenerate at a Palo Alto drinking establishment. Witnesses claim the degenerate had been harassing a woman, prompting LightRay consideration of placing photos of the chivalrous battle in its impressive portfolio of work. Liz T, promotions advisor for LightRay, finally advised against inclusion, citing the graphic nature of the imagery. RJ was not harmed in the incident, permitting him to resume standard duties at LightRay the following Monday.

vexatious mojo

I have been the unwitting recipient of male attentions for about a week now, ever since I got back from my trip. I can only assume this is because I no longer wreak of rage and bitterness.

I am disastrous at flirtation, I submit as proof the following:

At Starbuck's, I started to sit down. A man GRABBED the chair away from me. I fixed him with my most evil glare and opened my mouth to unleash a barrage of self-righteous indignations punctuated with expletives, only to have to mutter, chagrined, "thank you, that's so nice of you," when it turned out that he was pulling the chair out for me to sit on.

During yoga... a pudgy white guy, I believe, tried to hit on me. I really can't posit with absolute certainty because it was awkward and badly implemented. I was in downward dog and man boobs looked sideways at me and making eye contact said, "dog". But he said it all gangsta, like "dawg" and he drawled it, making it into a really long word. And I'm pretty sure he had a lascivious look on his upside down face, but I was upside down and things just don't look right from that vantage point. "Daaaaawwwwgggggg."

Yo.

I may have mentioned I'm tone deaf. Therefore, I only sing alone in my car. I sing very loudly and I am so very awful that my terribleness cracks me up and I find myself driving around with a big, stupid smile on my face. Bringing me to our next chapter, accidental vehicular drive-by flirtations.

I do not have any idea how long this guy must have thought I was staring at him with a huge smile on my face. I'm guessing it was a pretty long time for him to decide to follow me into the parking lot at my office and ask for my phone number. It was nice to meet you, Mike.

Coachella. No, I don't think I'll accompany you to your tent for blow.

Produce section, the c0-op. "Do you do yoga?"

"What gave me away? Was it the yoga mat slung across my left shoulder?"

He then interrogated me on my length of vegetarianism. Tried to lure me over to the Vegan camp. Chastised me for wearing leather flip-flops and then asked me if I want to have dinner with him at Real Food Daily.

I declined. Not three minutes later I overheard him asking another girl out by the oranges. Real Food Daily.

And I thought I meant something to him.

I conclude with a text message from an ex:

When am I going to see you? I have a new couch. Microfiber.

It seems that I once seriously dated a guy who thinks that microfiber is not only a durable upholstery fabric, but also, an aphrodisiac.

another LA day culminating in the consumption of vodka

I direct art, most days, beginning around 10am. This precludes me from drinking and napping all day, which is what I would do with my life if I had been born to a wealthy landowner in, say, England prior to 1850 or so. I would wear crinoline, swoon, write romantically macabre gothic novels and indulge in a rather wicked laudanum habit. With joy and gladness, absolutely guilt free.

Alas.

Instead of giving into my slothlike desires for sleep and opiates, I directed the art and then went to a two hour yoga class. Because I am a vegetarian, co-op shopping, non-smoker and at this point, yoga is pretty much required.

First, the man kept "adjusting" my posture. Which seemed to involve much massaging of my lower back and some forceful repositioning of my hip bones, manually.

What I didn't say: You touch my chakra one more time and you're going to lose that hand.

During the interminable two hours, the instructor repeatedly stated, "Take responsibility for your body." What the hell? Was he calling us all fat? Out of shape? Or did someone's body go off the reservations, throw a keg party and wreck the lawn?

During relaxation we are all instructed to relax various parts of our body. It's nice, meditative. Relax your toes. Check. Relax your calves. Roger that. Relax your mouth. Done. Relax your anus.

Uh huh.

Not.Making.That.Up.

On my way home from yoga I stopped at the co-op for Kombucha tea, because I was already feeling like a stereotype and resigned myself to embracing it. I also bought raw food "pad thai" and never has such liberty been taken in the audacity to call it that. Bean sprouts cannot and should not be considered a passable substitute for noodles. Thinking it couldn't taste any worse, I warmed it up in the microwave. It was wrong. It was worse. Much worse.

And now I have the blind Russian. It's chocolate milk for borderline alcoholics.

Coachella: now relocated to the surface of the sun

I had never seen Portishead live. Beth Gibbons' voice enthralled us, we thousands, shoulder to shoulder, swaying to that voice. When she sang "Give me a reason to love you" I was suddenly back to my dark, brooding art school days. Where with black lipstick, spiked hair and a nose ring I made that song my mantra. As it turns out, that philosophy coupled with that lipstick shade did not produce the hoped for results.

Afterwards, still giddy from the afterglow, I was confronted by a thirteen year old boy who demanded to know what was good about Portishead. I glared at him, with narrowed eyes, conveying my most world-weary and disdainful of looks. As a rule, if your Mommy still purchases your underpants, you do not have the luxury of being pretentious about anything, particularly music.

Maybe it was the heat, or the Rum, or the vodka. Possibly, the hash. But whatever it was, I was altered by the time Prince went on stage. From the terrace at the Tiki Lounge, the crowd seemed to be without end, the roar reverberated off every surface as Prince took the stage.  Eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, I turned to my comrades and reverently whispered, "He's so...  sparkly."

I'm pretty sure at that point I was hallucinating. But at a Prince show, how can one really tell?

I was recently informed by a teen that liking Death Cab is tragically unhip. Guilty.

Based on this sign, I deduced that the hotel parking lot was imperiled by rabid, feral ducks. I never encountered any. Calamity thereby averted.

the next best thing

upon my arrival home from Nicaragua I vowed to live a simpler, less materialistic existence.

I just published this post with my brand New iPhone.

My glee is near orgasmic.

Sunshine Superman

It was such a long day and the only thing that got me through it was this cheesy song from Donovan. Sunshine Superman inspires me to wild arm flailings, potentially hazardous hip girations and quite a bit of chiropractor prohibited head bobbing. It's likely not very fluid or attractive to watch, but it feels SO GOOD.

In response to recent comments & emails...

I posted some photos of the trip.

I am actually not wee. I am 5'9 and change. I have enormous feet and spent my Jr. High years slouched over wishing with everything I had to be 5'1. I am short in comparison with my mother and grandmother, but they were freakishly tall. The bag from yesterday's photo is absolutely, ridiculously huge, because I made it myself and have no sense of scale. Also, I enjoy crafts in tandem with vodka.

I know I've never posted a photograph of my face before, no matter how far away. My criteria was, given this photograph, would anyone be able to recognize me at the gym? I found the answer to be no and therefore deemed and approved it: stalker-safe.

As for my romantic adventure, I won't go into details. It was very special. The experience was further evidence that I am no longer broken. That part of myself that I thought was dead turned out to be just fine, sitting in there quietly and waiting for its moment. For the first time in years I felt genuine, uncalculated passion and it was breathtaking. I have a restored sense of hope and a few perfect memories. The rest I leave to fate, or Jesus, Buddha, God, whoever has time to look in on the matter.

I had conversations with two of my oldest and best friends today. Both of whom have this laser like ability to make apparent to me my own deficiencies and misteps. And without them pointing out what a fucktard I can be sometimes, I would be utterly lost. Love you Ern.

I am a terrible travel writer. I have all my notes, but no fortitude tonight to get it done. I just got home and I am headed to Coachella tomorrow for the weekend and am quite looking forward to my solo three hour trek through Friday night rush hour traffic.

This is the puppy I fell in love with at Casa Iguana, my hotel on Little Corn. He was half dead about a week before our arrival, but then the guests banded together and started sneaking him table scraps. He's a tenacious, cuddly little guy who started out with the ignominious moniker "Fleabag", went through Tiger, Iggy and as of my check-out day was known as T bone. I think it suits him.

vacation hangover

I attended work today, in much the same way I used to attend classes, in body if not mind.

I have the serious vacation hangover, I swing between finding myself staring off into space with a goofy grin on my face to nearly bursting into tears every time my office phone rings. And my blood alcohol level has been within legal driving range all day, the first day in eight. I'm not adjusting well.

I did try out some Managuan taxi driver moves on the 10 East this morning. It was not appreciated by my fellow commuters, but it did feel really good to mash the accelerator to the floorboard and feel in control of my destiny again, rather than leave it in the hands of boat captains, plane pilots and maniacal, psychologically unstable cabbies.

One unmarketed attribute of the Corn Island and Nicaragua: it's fat camp. I lost two pounds due to a diet consisting solely of vegetables and fish, nary a piece of chocolate to be wrested from a small child. That coupled with what I like to call the dysentery diet, which I brought home with me. And is awesome. I think I've cut a full second off my ten yard dash.

I have to go talk some sense into my irritable and disgruntled stomach, maybe turn on the TV really loud, tune it to Roseanne or WWF wrestling, Golden Girls or  Miami Vice, just to prove to my stomach that we really are home. I have fully appreciated the complaint it has lodged, but really, truly, it can expect to return to its usual diet of completely processed foods, sans those irritating natural bacterias.

Travel notes tomorrow. I promise.


(I hold the Island record for whitest person ever. They might make me one of their gods.)

stateside and shower-ready

I wasn't there when the Israelites finally got to the promised land after the forty years wandering in the desert, yet, I feel I conducted a passable reenactment upon my arrival home tonight. I lacked period costumes to make the scene feel historically accurate, however, I imagine the Israelites did not smell too fresh, and neither do I. I have a most peculiar odor. I had the funk and my suitcase had the funk and when I opened the suitcase tonight the funk had fermented. It's a delightful bouquet of eu de deet (3 different bug sprays worn simultaneously), sun block, oil, sea, sweat, damp and just a note of b.o. to bind it all together.

The drug sniffing dog at customs caught a snoutful, whimpered and quickly moved on.

Tomorrow I'll be posting my official illustrated travel guide to Nicaragua. Here's the sneak preview: once Little Corn gets the hot water thing worked out I am moving there and never coming back. Big Corn, not so much. In fact, I highly recommend that the sea rise up and swallow Big Corn, just something to keep in mind, God, if you're feeling full of smite and not sure what to do with it.

Tonight I'm clearing out 732 emails. My favorites thus far have been

from: Missy
subject line: Do you want to watch me take a shower?
True, I've been out of the States for a week, do we send RSVPs for showers now? I was going to take one in ten minutes, is that okay or too short of notice? And I'm unsure who to put on the shower notification email group. Would you say just inner circle, close personal friends or extend to co-workers and acquaintances? This is an etiquette minefield, someone should write Emily Post STAT.

from: Kaboom
subject line: never scrub your toilet

More tomorrow, I have to go blow up my toilet.

and then there were sand fleas

At Casa Canada, Big Corn Island, Nicaragua

1. I was right. Sand Fleas are Satan´s minions. Sneaking horrid hungry creatures.

2. The flight from ManaguA to Big Corn was like being attached to a kite with duct tape and then set free in a hurricane. There was vomit.

And in a stunning bit of irony I flew to a third world country and had a brief island romance.  With an American in Nicaragua. I like to think that Jesus does in fact, offer rewards for good behavior.

THIS KEYBOARD IS NOW STUCK IN CAPS LOCK. 

Merry Christmas

Raina & I are in Nicaragua and checked into our hotel, where the walls are thin and the beds are made of nails. But it's good, it's clean, it's safe and eventually, after much gesticulation, arm flapping and an odd combination of Raina speaking Spanglish and I interjecting the occasional disconcerting French, we seem to be making our way. Although, sadly, I fear we are not advancing the reputation of American travelers as erudite and worldly. We're not rude though, just hapless and I daresay, comedic.

Oh and for my part, drunk. I've been inebriated twice today already, and I must say, it is lovely.

I love vodka, which they also have in Nicaragua, thank the gods, bacchus in particular.

I started my drinking at the Miami airport, after much trekking, searching and wandering. Since when do they make it difficult to find alcohol in an airport? Anyway, after the drinks and on the way back to our gate I said to Raina, "Doesn't it seem like we walked a lot further than this?" And then in answer to my own question, I announced loudly, ÖH! I was sober!"

And what a difference that makes. Upon our arrival to the hotel tonight I tipped the bell hop and wished him a Merry Christmas. Apparently feliz navidad is Merry Christmas and Buenos Noches is good evening. Whatever, I've decided to wish everyone a merry christmas as it seems to cheer them up.

Oh! And a nice Jewish couple at the airport wished me a happy Passover. We discussed it and they agreed with me that Lobster & Rum are TOTALLY kosher for Passover. I love them.

Feliz Navidad! I'm off for more vodka followed by a massage.