Archive for the 'I Heart LA' Category

Published by admin on 27 Jun 2011

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Published by admin on 23 Nov 2007

And I’m so thankful for my friends

I might never cook a turkey again. It took forever. My only thought was it wasn’t completely thawed before I started cooking it. That or there was a bit of confusion as to where the thermometer actually was supposed to go.

Breast down

It looked pretty. We started with it breast down, but the breast wasn’t getting to the right temp, so I flipped it.

Turkey - Breast down

The gravy came out so ridiculously salty that it was almost inedible. We soldiered on.

Champagne cures all ills

The successes were the easy dishes, the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, the rolls and the cranberries. Oh, and the champagne, definitely the champagne. One must always remember to have several bottles of champagne at the ready, no one will remember the turkey or the gravy after that.

Funny turkey

After dinner we went to the weird festival of lights in Griffith Park. We walked down there and almost gave up, but if we had, we would have missed the awesomeness of the artists interpretation of the awesomeness of LAX, which is almost an identical representation of LAX.


My hangover is just fierce enough to make me regret all of those damned dishes. But it was a great night. Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

DWP light festival

Published by Tamara on 23 Mar 2007

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Published by Tamara on 17 Apr 2006

Hello, Drama, Meet your Queen

I am happy to report that an apartment has been secured. I will not have to fashion my queen sized pillow top mattress and box spring into a makeshift bed on the top of my car. I will not have to give up any of my books. I will not have to clean pigeon poop off the balcony. Again.

Actually, that last one is not true. Because I spent an hour yesterday cleaning pigeon poop off the balcony. It seems that the fake owl is no longer scary to the little bastards. Pigeon poo is remarkably resistant to cleaning and simultaneously easy to clean. It seems that pigeon poo is a dichotomy wrapped in a paradox.

We met with my weird landlord yesterday. He asked Louie weird questions. Then we all signed a lease and french kissed on the couch. (My landlord has mad skills, yo.) And in that moment I felt like Atlas, if someone had taken the world off his shoulders and given him a two bedroom apartment in the prettiest little neighborhood in all of Los Angeles.

Louie took a picture of me laughing on the balcony and managed to capture all four of my forehead veins. Apparently, when I laugh, I look hideous. Good to know.

I don’t know how to stop the drama queening in situations like this. I don’t like taking a step and not knowing if there is solid ground to catch me. It’s just me, I guess. Thankfully I have a partner who is more than able to enforce a calm zone around me, letting my stress bubble only extend to arm’s length.