...So, when are you going to make her a Mrs.???

For today's entry, I would just like to begin by discussing a little issue I like to call "None of your goshdarn business." I know for a fact that many of my friends are currently experiencing this very situation and I would like to address it for once and for all.

The following are all the reasons why I AM NOT MRS. GAFFEY or even THE FUTURE MRS. GAFFEY:

8. I haven't been asked.

7. I HAVEN'T said YES.

6. Do you have $8000.00? Really? Good. You buy me a diamond ring.

5.5. Ring for girlfriend or Car with working driver's side door? Girlfriend stays if boyfriend can drive her places. Girlfriend goes away if the only transportation is on the back of his bicycle.

5. Free milk? Buy cow?? Hmmm...tough one again. Even I'm too cheap to pass up free milk.

4. (this is a big one). Weddings cost $20,000 and higher. I barely earn that in a year. YOU do the math.

3. My friends barely earn $20,000 in a year. Low salary = can't afford good presents. I'll pass on the 6 salad shooters. A wedding can wait until my friends can afford the good china.

2. Have you met my parents? YOU ask them for permission.

...and the #1 reason is -

1. I KILL PLANTS. I KILL FISH. HOW CAN YOU EVEN SUGGEST THAT I TRY TO KEEP A HUSBAND ALIVE???

Thank you.

WINNER AND STILL CHAMPION!!!

I am the QUEEN of Trivial Pursuit. Last night, a wide-spread power outage led to a candlelit matchup between my beloved and myself. Three questions in, the accusations started flying - don't count, roll the dice better, you read the questions. Which brought me back in time...Many years ago, a certain cousin of mine, (Stacey, yes, Stacey, I'm talking to you!) once accused me of cheating. How, you ask? She accused me of reading and memorizing all of the answer cards. Well, Stace, it's 15 years later, I have a 60 hour a week job, and a brandy new version of TP. AND HA!!!!! I still win!

EAT THAT, B****ES!!! NERDS RULE THE WORLD!!!

My closet is going to eat me like the sandworm from Beetlejuice.

I hate it. This morning, I wanted to cry, because my dresser is broken and I couldn't get the drawer open for unmentionables. The rack that MY clothes hang on is broken and fell off, AGAIN, and I got stabbed in the hip by a hanger, because some dickwad decided that 1.5' is enough room to maneuver in a 'walk-in closet.'

As these blogs seem to be an excellent way to fill people in on the goings-on in my life, as well as an outlet for the creative process, I'm going to use it for something else. From now on, I will be using my blog to share with my love the ideas that I have that I know he will hate.

Dear Mike, Babe, My Heart,

When I get my first paycheck next week, I am going to Ikea, buying the entire wooden closet organizer that Heather and I looked at a few weeks ago, and I am reorganizing our closet. I love you. You may not want to be around for that. Please leave the first aid kit close.

Love Jaime

ps. The living room is next.

...And a very Special Happy Birthday...

To Mike,

May all your birthdays be as "Special" as you are...

On a lighter note...

For the last week, I've had some houseguests...they arrive every night between 10:30pm-11:00pm, and hit the hay in the tree next to my balcony. That's odd, right? Not really, when you consider that they are a raccoon mommy and her two little baby raccoons...One night, I heard this bizarre scratching noise...it sounded like it was coming from my kitchen, so of course, I stared accusingly at Short Bus and ChaChi (our goldfish), daring them to make the noise again. (ok, so it was late, I was alone, and kinda freaked out...don't expect too much reason). Well, the next night I heard it again, and sat out on my balcony. Before I knew it, I saw these three raccoons climbing the tree just 5 feet from my balcony...they stopped at the bend between two large branches, and just went to sleep laying on top of one another...Too Cute. Well, they've been back every night, alternating between the two trees there...and every night, I go out to visit with them. I would post a photo, but I'm nervous that the flash would send the mommy raccoon jumping onto my balcony to attack me, so I won't. Instead, here's a cute picture of random raccoon babies that kinda look like mine.

...Today I'm going to have Art on my jeans!

No, not some guy named Art - real Art...at least, as much of Art as can be put on jeans. My friend Pam and her friend Jon have started this incredibly inventive little program called SendMeYourJeans.com(site in progress) where you send them your jeans, and Jon, an artist, will make Art all over them. Don't know exactly what that entails, but I'm excited!

On a different note, my boss is back in the continental US. She called me at 8:30pm last night, because she knew I was concerned...Boy, was I. As I was standing in line at Hollywood Video, my copies of Velvet Goldmine and The Pillow Book in hand, she went on a 20 minute rant about how poor the car service was. There I am, prepping for our Ewan McGregor filmfest (girls, you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about), and she thinks I'm gonna drop everything to call the car service...But, I must say, I was brilliant..."I will, Fern, I will...you sound exhausted...you should take the next few days and JUST relax...nothing is of utmost importance that cannot wait until Monday. I will take care of everything from here..."

Ah yes...pina Coladas by the pool till Monday...then back to the grind.

To my Dad,

...I want to bitch-slap the Bionic Woman.

Just on a short note - I visited my friendly, neighborhood bank to make a withdrawal last week, and the clerk spent 30 seconds staring at my withdrawal slip. "This says, 'Jaime' (hi-may)." "No, it's Jaime." "But it says Hi-may."

I will forever blame my father for his RIDICULOUS obsession with Lindsay Wagner and the Bionic Woman. In fact, I called him, and accused him of spelling my name like this just for pure entertainment purposes...(I WAS BORN IN ARIZONA - EVERY 2ND PERSON THERE IS MEXICAN - DON'T TELL ME YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT WOULD HAPPEN!!!)

His reply?

"Just add an apostrophe...then you'll be J'aime, french for 'To Love.'"

Yeah, okay SALVATORE.

..."We'll be in touch"

It's funny how quickly an interview can go from good to awful in four short words. "Thanks for coming in. We'll be in touch." Why don't they just say, "Thanks. You tanked your interview and we're definitely not going to call you back." I had an interview today at First Look Studios, the brandy brand-new company that is the result of a merger of First Look Media (financed Waking Ned Devine) and Capital Entertainment (DVD distro - did Bend It Like Beckham and the American Idol DVDs). I met with Richard Shore, a fairly good-looking youngish lawyer who will be overseeing the production arm, Glass Key, and is also the SVP of Business Affairs. They called me less than 3 minutes after receiving my resume (huh - who knew the UTA joblist ACTUALLY had real jobs on it??) Seemed like a good opportunity - a fledgling young company, cool young staff, and MILLIONS of new dollars to spend on independent films. So, needless to say, I'm pretty pumped about the phone call. I spend the night researching the companies, the power players, the library, the works. Is this the opportunity I've been waiting for? Could be...so I arrive at the interview, freshly starched resume in hand, my most grownup, uncomfortable high-heeled shoes on my feet, 8 minutes early. Just early enough to be punctual, not so early as to piss them off...and as I approach the reception desk, I realize no one is there. There is a sequined purse lying open next to the latest issue of Cosmo, but there is no receptionist. This could be interesting. I wander around, poke my head down the hall - no people. I peruse the issue of EW with Harry Potter on the cover - damn, I wish I had gotten that issue...I'll have to call them and get it. I check out Time magazine, about the anniversary of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Suddenly, a tall, blond PRINCESS walks into the office. "Yeah?"
"Uh, hi...I'm Jaime...I have a 4 o'clock with Richard Shore..." Princess replies, "Uh huh..." and then walks down the hall and out of sight. Hmmm. Not the response I was hoping for. Then, 3 post-college frat boys walk into the waiting area. OH SHIT. I never did extremely well with the Greek system...and Princess was surely Delta Delta Delta material. One of approaches me.."Jaime?" "Yes?" "I'm Richard Shore, follow me..." NICE - he came in himself and didn't make me wait. That's a first! And then comes the interview. I use the term interview very loosely, because if memory serves, and interview should actually involve QUESTIONS!!! Instead, he asked me two - "what do you want to do in this business?" and "So, you do a lot at your job...what do you do there?" Um, buddy, you've got my fricken resume sitting in front of you...I've got 25 power points about what I do...but, what the hell, I'll summarize for you. "Oh, you've got a lot of production experience..." NO - If you'd read my fricken resume, it clearly shows that what I do is a lot less production and a lot more STUPID OFFICE BULLSHIT that is extremely important in any job. But I Digress - he then goes on a 15 minute spiel about the company, the history of the company, the merger, his position, the films, and what he needs in an assistant. Okay...great. So, ask away. I sit on the edge of my seat, waiting for the questions to roll. "So, that's about it...oh, and the salary is $30,000 with full benefits and a 401K. I'm meeting people all week, and we'll make a decision at the end of this week or the beginning of next. Thanks so much for coming in..." Huh? uh, okay. #1 - $30,000? Are you friggin kidding me? Good luck finding a top notch assistant with experience at that salary. #2 - Are you going to ask me ANYTHING??? And to top it all off, he tries to pay me a backhanded compliment - "well, clearly you are a jack of all trades, and you're obviously very smart...there have been girls, oh and some guys too, that I haven't spent this much time with." RIIIIIGHT...so, you're looking for that post-frat, pretty boy that you can hang out with during down time. GOTCHA...I got it. "So, thanks for coming in. We'll be in touch."

Yeah. Just validate my parking, Flounder.

...SWEDEN ROCKS!!!!

Heather and I went to the mecca of all meccas today. Just 20 minutes south on the 405, and it's glorious blue and yellow facade glimmers like tiny little diamonds over the horizon. It is .... wait for it ... IKEA! Okay, let me just say - although Swedish meatballs scare me a little bit, I LOVE IKEA! When you walk in the door, and grab that yellow bag, paper tape measure, and the Swedish pronounciation dictionary, you can feel the endless possibilities. Both Heather and I fell MADLY in love with a little line called Hemnes - made of real, actual WOOD! Wood, you ask? Yes, WOOD! Ikea has begun utilizing resources that actually come from nature. GOD BLESS cheap maple and pine wood dressers. But that's nothing compared to the fabulousness that is Closet Organizers...