soju sisters

i have to admit something. even though i moved to LA under the auspices of a new “heal the world” job, i’ve always fantasized about being “discovered” in hollywood. with every other show on TV having to do with medicine or forensics and with a dearth of professionally-trained epidemiologist-actors, i figured it was just a matter of time before i was cast as a lead on one of those shows. But after 3 years in lalaland, i started to worry that my E! True Hollywood Story was not to be. And then it all changed. with her.

Dr Lisa Cuddy!

Dr Lisa Cuddy! somehow, my prayers were answered. i was about to get the once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet the most awesomest actress on the most awesomest medical show.

when i was told Dr Lisa Cuddy planned to visit our office in our quest to find a celebrity spokesperson, my heart nearly lept out of my ribcage. and while that could represent a significant medical emergency for the coco, i wasn’t remotely worried. i mean come on. Dr Lisa Cuddy would be there soon and she’d make sure House fixed it within 60 minutes (inclusive of commercials). no sweat.

i had 2 days to plan what to wear and what to say when i met Dr Lisa Cuddy. it was daunting. would i play it cool? would i gush? would i tell her about our manifest destiny? how we’d meet and become instant best friends. and how she’d come over to my humble apartment on Monday nights and we’d drink soju martinis and eat veggie burgers (my future bff is a vegetarian) while watching the latest episode of her show. we’d talk for hours about life and yoga and our close encounters with robb lowe. we’d go to runyon and the emmys together. she’d come see my small theatre productions and urge the HOUSE casting directors to call me in because how often do you find an epidemiologist who also can act? they’d come to the closing night of one of my shows, fall in love with me, and cast me as the talented yet mysterious Dr Coco Cornell. and then i’d be able to hang out with Dr Lisa Cuddy every day at craft services and in our trailers. she’d introduce me to Omar Epps and we’d fall in love and get married. Dr Lisa Cuddy would naturally be my maid of honor and all would be right in the world.

or perhaps that would be too much?

once the epic “meet Dr Lisa Cuddy” day arrived, i could barely contain myself. but i had decided earlier that morning i’d take the cool, calm and collected route when we met. i’d hide my adoration along with my copious piles of paperwork waiting to be filed and dirty coffee mugs. it was a solid plan. but when it was my turn to introduce myself, the well-rehearsed words were hijacked by a terminal case of verbal diarrhea. i commenced into a diatribe about her amazing work with differential diagnoses and infectious diseases and medical epidemiology and character development. she just politely nodded which just led to more words. and in those 5 minutes of coco idiocy, i saw my manifest destiny flat line.

so as i catch up on HOUSE episodes tonight on HULU, i choose not to dwell on what could have been. instead, i’m looking forward.

anyone know how i can get a hold of Meredith Grey?

happy almost weekend, y’all!

coco 2.0 (beta)

one of the best things about january is that you get to fantasize about creating a new version of you.  like how i’ll start looking like megan fox, start acting like mother teresa, and stop drinking like amy winehouse.

and while i think i just heard some snickers across the innertubes, i would like to point out that i actually made a list of goals for 2010 with the help of my lovely ladies in book club.  the book club that hasn’t kicked me out even though i drink all their wine and have yet to read a book.  clearly they’ve got the mother teresa thing down to a tee.

and i’ve heard that the best way to actualize my outter meghan fox (cuz i’ve mastered my ‘trashy, bad acting inner megan fox’) is to share your pipedreamsgoals with others.  by doing so, it supposedly makes you accountable.  so, to start the ball rolling, here’s my top 2.

1) get in shape. this one might be the hardest goal for coco.  it’s mostly because she’s afraid of the outdoors and sweat and gym equipment and flat shoes, in general.  but i’m putting my fears and slothness aside and putting my faith in her:

look at her. she’s wearing hot pink.  she’s smiling.  she’s got mom hair.  and even though she’s clearly got to pee, she’s not going to let that get in the way of giving coco abs of steel. and she’s not offering up just a normal slim down blend.  NOOOOOO, it’s “SUPER”.  in caps.  with a hot pink bar on each side of “SUPER”.  she’s all about the flair. i die.  in light of her awesomeness, i’m banking on miss hot-pink-pants-with-mom-hair-who-sits-like-she-has-to-pee.  if she can’t whip me into shape, no one can.

2) be happy. i always thought i was a moderately shiny, happy person. but then i watched JULIE AND JULIA.  and then i all i wanted to do was eat a stick of butter (i’m quite sure megan fox does not do this as part of her fitness plan) and cry because i do not possess one-bazillionth percent of julia child’s joie de vivre.  even though her silhouette was closer to big bird’s than bridget bardot’s and she was a virgin until the age of 40, the lady might have been the most effervescent person who’s EVER walked the earth.

that laugh!  that positive outlook!  that perseverance!  and while cooking souffles and tartines and beurre blanc and other really hard frenchy things.  when i cook, i swear a lot.  and i burn things.  and let’s just put it this way…the stick of butter isn’t the only thing having a melt down moment in the kitchen. so, after my julia child interventioninspiration, i’m vowing to belly laugh more and belly ache less.

so dear friends, feel free to share what you’re working on to become less lindsay lohanmore you…although between you and me, i kinda think you’re awesome just the way you are.

hugs and sloppy kisses,

coco 2.0 (beta)

a whole new choo

welcome, bright and shiny 2010! oh, how i’ve been looking forward to your arrival!  you see, the promise of a new year always reminds me of one the best things in the wholewideworld…

a brand-spanking-new pair of pretty shoes.  unblemished, unscuffed, and unbelievably exciting.  but like a gorgeous duo of just-a-smidge-slutty stilletos, one never really know if a new year will also lead you to gripping pain and a few embarrassing falls.

2009 had a few manolo moments for the coco.   the promotion to director at work was kinda rad. getting cast in a play even though my audition was as unsightly as a croc sandal was amazing.  scoring good grades in grad school didn’t suck (and getting three “g”s in that sentence was kinda gnarly). but aught-nine often felt like a BOGO sale at a payless in the valley.  and for non-shoe connoisseurs…that’s NOT a a good thing. going through the pain and fear of a home break-in was akin to wearing 6″ strappy heels fashioned of barbed wire and broken glass on a hike through runyon.  and then there was the break-up with the boy who you thought was “the one”.  you know those super pretty shoes you invested a lot in and adored more than life itself, but after a few years you realize that they just don’t seem to fit right?  and after much crying and contemplation, you begrudgingly have to let them go?  and then you go into a deep depression thinking you’ll never find another pair and will end up alone with 50 cats and wearing knockoff uggs?  and then there was the whole, “a new shoe rack? already? really? without even leaving time to resole,  mr. ex shoe? whore.”  yeh, it was a lot like that.

so now that 2010 finds me single, sassy and in a pretty nifty apartment up in the hills (hi speidi!), i can’t help but to wonder what type of shoe moments the next 12 months have in store for the coco.  will there be beauty or bunions?  arch support or arch enemies?  catwalks or catastrophes? i guess no one really knows except jimmy choo, i mean god.  but, footie in hand, i’m ready to try on some new opportunities…even if it means falling flat on my face or breaking a heel.  wish me luck, y’all and happy new year!

vaccine-olicious

i’m sitting here with not one, but two mac books staring me down. those cursors blinking in frustrated anticipation of a sentence.  heck, the cursi would prolly settle for a word at this rate.  but today’s work task of writing about HIV vaccines is just not happening.  so what does one do when their not feeling vaccine-olicious?

• floss

• watch this morning’s twilight press conference even though i’m a lost boys kinda gal

• two words.  lol. cats.

• eat anything in the fridge that has yet to transform into penicillin

• log into my myspace page.  yeh, it’s that bad

so PLEASE use a condom, and don’t share dirty needles until i can find my way out of this writer’s block and find a cure for the AIDS.  kthankbye!

eggstatic about 2009!

i love 2009.  ah…2009. those four numbers have a lovely ring to it, don’t they?  and just like my brand-spanking-new super-sized, i’m-so-hollywood chloe sunglasses, the new year feels like it has so much potential for unfettered awesomeness.

supersized awesomeness in '09

and let’s be honest…it can’t be that hard as 2008 kinda stunk.

you see, coco is a hopeless optimist. i thought 2008 would be the year to beat all years.  i believed that madonna and guy ritchie would make it. i thought i’d lose those pesky 10 5 pounds that make my thighs look scarier than a monster from an old godzilla movie.  and  i truly thought that it was my destiny to bump into david beckham at the grove…literally “bump” into him like all the ingénues do in romantic comedies when they encounter ‘him’.  and then he’d send me a little van cleefs set as they matched my big eyes sunglasses.

he had me at "van cleefs"

but alas, madonna left guy,  i still have mothra thighs,  and i’m still van cleef-less. thanks for nothing, 2008!

yet, when i look back to 2008’s trials and tribulations, i have to say that those pesky 12 months might have been good for the coco.  losing my job last march meant being vulnerable and scared…two things i’ve never been really good at.  learning that ‘the one that was supposed to be forever’ got married to someone else meant finally mourning the loss of love so that new chapters could be written.  and while being told by my doctor that i’m of “an advanced reproductive age” made me want to rip her ovaries out and stamp on them,  it also made me finally start thinking seriously about a mommy.

so, while i may have lost a few paychecks and A LOT of viable eggs along the way, i seemed to have somehow gained a smidge of perspective in the good-ole naught eight.

and perspective weighs less than muscle, right?  yey!

happy belated new year y’all and here’s to a wonderful year ahead!

dear silly frat guy…

dear silly frat guy

clearly drunk and possibly high

trying to drop trow in my hood

peeing in public you wished you could

but hells no not on my street

cuz walking in urine isn’t a treat

really…in front of my face?

please go find a better place

so if i see you again whizzing al fresco

you best not argue with the coco

cuz i’ll record you mid-pee

and post it on youtube and tmz!

it's sasha, b*tch

those who know me can attest to the fact that i’m the original obama girl. but after four great years of unwavering barack-worship, i’m kinda done. yes, there’s a new object of my affection.

i’m in love with the sasha.

it's sasha, b*tch

crazier than george w. during his coke years and feistier than howard “yeahhhh!” dean after his iowa loss, sasha obama has it going on. and it’s only a matter of time before we find out she’s the real brains behind the operation. in between play dates and pokemon, sasha’s been busy vetting veep choices, planning the withdrawl from iraq and designing a bouncy castle for the rose garden. screw nap time–sasha has to focus on world domination…and installing a water slide in the reflecting pool.

it's a sasha world. i just let you live in it.

over the years, we’ve been entertained/bored/embarrassed by our president’s spawn, most notably:

amy "snooze" carter

and

sox "i did not have sexual relations" the cat

and

drunkardson twins activate!

other than the drunkardson twins, we’ve been given snoozefest after snoozefest. but move over first families…we’ve got a new kid in town. and she’s gonna be fierce!

dontcha wish your jenna and barbara were hot like me?

so when i rock the vote for obama in november, i’m really doing it for the sasha.

do what i say, daddy, and nobody gets hurt

and trust me…if you don’t, she’s gonna hunt you down on her big wheel and make you listen to the cheetah girls until you break.

happy friday and don’t forget to register to vote, y’all!

it’s sasha, b*tch

those who know me can attest to the fact that i’m the original obama girl. but after four great years of unwavering barack-worship, i’m kinda done. yes, there’s a new object of my affection.

i’m in love with the sasha.

it's sasha, b*tch

crazier than george w. during his coke years and feistier than howard “yeahhhh!” dean after his iowa loss, sasha obama has it going on. and it’s only a matter of time before we find out she’s the real brains behind the operation. in between play dates and pokemon, sasha’s been busy vetting veep choices, planning the withdrawl from iraq and designing a bouncy castle for the rose garden. screw nap time–sasha has to focus on world domination…and installing a water slide in the reflecting pool.

it's a sasha world. i just let you live in it.

over the years, we’ve been entertained/bored/embarrassed by our president’s spawn, most notably:

amy "snooze" carter

and

sox "i did not have sexual relations" the cat

and

drunkardson twins activate!

other than the drunkardson twins, we’ve been given snoozefest after snoozefest. but move over first families…we’ve got a new kid in town. and she’s gonna be fierce!

dontcha wish your jenna and barbara were hot like me?

so when i rock the vote for obama in november, i’m really doing it for the sasha.

do what i say, daddy, and nobody gets hurt

and trust me…if you don’t, she’s gonna hunt you down on her big wheel and make you listen to the cheetah girls until you break.

happy friday and don’t forget to register to vote, y’all!

i can has hoomanz court?

howdie y’all. it’s been ages since i wrote something other than a cover letter or an unemployment claim. and while it’s kinda neat to be a statistic, representing 1 of 467,300 laid-off californians has provided me with a remarkable lack of writing inspiration. it did, however, provide ample time to acquire a few new hobbies.

1) THE PEOPLE’S COURT. this isn’t your mom’s people court, y’all. move over judge wapner and los angeles. the 2008 version is filled with CRAZAY new yorkers who willingly choose to be humiliated on national tv by a judge who’s just like that super mean-but-hot junior high teacher who scared the hell out of you.

not only is the new people’s court good television..it’s also a great form of therapy. if you can’t feel good about yourself after watching trainwreck after trainwreck get ripped to shreds by judge Marilyn Milian, you are probably beyond hope.

2) LOLCATS. let’s be honest. i think i have the crazy cat lady gene in me. i’m probably one PETCO adoption day and two unemployment checks away from realizing my crazy-cat-lady-in-a-trailer destiny. the good news is that i’ve found another way to get my feline fix without spending my entire severance on kitty litter: LOLCATS. this phenomenon of linking cute kitty kitteh pictures with urban/internet misspeak is better than a doublewide trailer with cat flaps. who needs gainful employment when you have free entertainment like this?!

3) professional audience member. one of the best things about being laid off in hollywood is that you’re not alone in being job-challenged. at any given time, 98.9% of its residents are both unemployed and drinking caffeinated, soy-based beverages at the Coffee Bean. i figured that if i was going to be starving, i might as well be a starving artist. and by artist, i mean paid audience member. my resume now boasts 2 episodes each on DEAL OR NO DEAL and a certain late night talk show that has a guy with a scottish accent that i’m forbidden to name. and while i think i could hear my mom and grad school professors weeping at each clap cue, at least these gigs succeeded in keeping me away from PETCO.

so as i get ready to mail my last unemployment claim (yes, mom, i finally found a ‘real’ job), i can’t help but feel a little verklempt to say goodbye to my new hobbies. indeed, these weren’t just guilty pleasures…they managed to tickle my funny bone during some not-so-funny times.

so if you find yourself here…

don’t worry your pretty little head. just remember that they may be able take your job away…

but you can ALWAYS has cheezburger.

happy summer y’all!

they call it bunny love

i’m no stranger to crime. coco lived adjacent to the nation’s capitol during:

(1) the reign of mayor marion “the bitch set me up” barry

(2) the crack cocaine epidemic

(3) and the most shocking crime against humanity: mc hammer pants .

so you can imagine that west hollywood is quite a change from the mean streets of DC. in stark contrast with our capitol’s penchant for murdering and crack-whoring, weho’s weekly crime reports are usually filled with misdemenors like, “according to the victim, the perpetrator wore a brown belt WITH black shoes in non-compliance with West Hollywood’s fashion code” or “a fight ensued after a mid-thirties, totally taut and spray-tanned man fought with a cross-gendered person (age unknown) over the last box of organic granola at Whole Foods”. indeed, the 90069 isn’t what you’d call ‘compton’.

or is it?

in the wee small hours of thursday, february 22nd, some mean-spirited bunny hater stole bunny’s license plates. both of them.

and just to add insult to injury, they broke her cute little antenna, too.

but break her spirit? never.

after two side swipes, a rear-end collision, and a hit-and-run in less than 17 months, bunny has had just about enough of the drama. we hoped the additon of (1) my confirmation st mary medal and (2) a st. christopher “protector of the highways” visor medal (both blessed by roman catholic father dudes for extra-strength god protection) would be her salvation…

but after the latest violation, we’re gonna have to call in the big guns…

if god can’t ward off the negative karma, i have no other option but employ a creepy, saccarine-sweet license plate frame. if you want the bunny love, you got to respect the bunny. it’s just that simple.

so if you see bunny and i hopping around the weho all pimped out with her new license plate bling, show her some love and respect. y’all. and by love and respect, i mean don’t hit or steal from her.

and just so we represent old-school style, bunny’s also got a good luck song:

here’s to peace, love and bunnies, y’all!