Best Job In The World

YOU GUYS.

Have you heard of the Best Job In The World contest hosted by Tourism Australia?

I hadn't until a couple months ago.  I heard about it from a girl at the Arboretum who was shooting a video.  I asked her what it was for, and she said it was to apply for the Lifestyle Photographer position as part of the Best Job In The World contest.

After that conversation, Brian was all, "you should apply too!" and I was like "who, me?"...and then we batted the idea around for a while, like "OMG can you imagine?" -- entirely hypothetically speaking, of course.

But the seed had been planted.

So a couple of weeks later, I made a video.  30 seconds long (that's all they allow), and just a simple video in the park by our apartment.  I didn't want to spend too much time/effort on it because, I mean, let's be real.  People like me don't win crazy contests.  And who knows if anyone was even going to watch this video.  It was probably going to be emailed off into a black hole in the interwebs never to be spoken of again.  But the opportunity was cool enough and it was easy enough to apply that I thought, why not take an hour of my time to do it.

So I did.  I uploaded the video and (mostly) forgot about it.

And then today, I got an email saying I was "shortlisted" -- I was chosen as ONE OF THE TOP 25 FINALISTS out of 600,000 applicants!!!!!!!

ME!  Shortlisted!

I am a) completely shocked; and b) 100% psyched!  Here's my video if you want to check it out -- but really, you should go here and check out the other 24 videos because those people are like whoa talented.  I can't believe I'm even on the same list as them!  Ahh!

No matter what the outcome is, today is such a welcome reminder to me that if you see something you want, JUST GO FOR IT, even if it seems against all odds.  There are so many opportunities in the world that could be yours for the taking if you just reach out and grab them.

What an unexpected and wonderful surprise!

We Came. We Raved. We Loved.

Let it be known that last Friday, Brian and I went to a rave.

And we liked it.

I remember this one incredible moment when Swedish House Mafia was playing Don't You Worry Child and we were spinning and jumping and laughing and swinging each other around and a space cleared for us to dance and I was so happy.  It's one of those scenes, a snapshot of life, that stands still -- the kind you know you'll remember again, and when you do, it'll make your heart smile.

When it was all over, we trekked back through the endless mud and walked approximately another 8 billion miles to Union Station to take the train home.  Which I was ok with only because 1) I was in a state of post-concert euphoria; 2) I drank my last drink really really fast; and 3) Union Station is pretty.

My feet/legs were sooo gross and muddy.  I have never been so thankful for ugly cheap-o tennis shoes.

 And that is the story of The Time We Went To A Rave.

I'm bookmarking this one for [totally speculative] future child's reference to prove WE WERE COOL ONCE I SWEAR.

We have a pan somewhere, right?

While we're on the topic of cooking...

Let's take this opportunity to re-watch this little gem of a YouTube hit, just for a minute:



Filmed at my neighborhood store nonetheless.

It relates[ish], I swear.

Whole Foods and I used to be bff's.  I knew which organic cereal was actually edible (it's the peanut butter Puffins), which sheeps-milk yogurt was worth the price, and always remembered to write down the sku number for the bulk almonds.  But for the past year (yes, year), I haven't been cooking at all.

In law school I cooked for basically every meal (except for when I actually went out and tried to have a life).  It used to bother me when people said they "didn't cook," because to me, cooking was just a basic part of taking care of yourself.  It was what you did when you got hungry.

And then I got a job.  And you know the story.  Countless fridge loads of the fresh ingredients I'd spent my precious Sunday afternoons picking out went bad, and I felt like such a shmuck every time I had to throw them out.  I told myself it was because I was busy; I didn't have time to cook.

Of course, I knew I was lying.  There's always time to make a stir fry.  Alllllways.

The truth is, I just didn't feel like cooking anymore.  I just felt like I deserved a break.  A break from responsibility, from discipline, from "should's" and "to do's" and anything that required a list.  Frankly, I needed a break from pretending to be a grown-up all day, almost every day.  So I didn't cook.

And nothing bad happened, health-wise at least.  In fact, I'm fairly certain that I ate more vegetables because of the constant health-guilt I felt for eating out all the time (also, no one wants to be that person who orders two slices of cake for dinner...).  Our credit card bills, though...eh hem...they've fared a little less well.  So, sitting by the Seine one day in Paris, Brian and I decided we'd rather spend that eating-out money on plane tickets and adventures or my asos.com shopping habit, and made a plan that when we got back, we'd start cooking to save money.  We set a goal of three times a week and said we'd think of it as our fun-enabling savings plan.

Naturally, I started by spending some money (ha) on some new cookbooks* -- the kind that responsible adults own that give you tips on how to prep stuff ahead of time and plan out grocery lists.  Sounded pretty boring, not gonna lie.  I wasn't stoked.

But you guys.  This meal planning stuff is changing my life!  And yes, I am fully aware of how LAME that sounds, and I feel like a total loser/soccer-mom-without-a-kid right now, but honestly, I'm loving it!  Case in point:  Monday night we had Morrocan turkey burgers with dried figs, cumin, and goat cheese, and a side of butternut squash with coriander and cinnamon (and butter, obvi).  On a Monday.  And it took me ~15 minutes!  (I know, I know, lame -- but when your usual Monday dinner is a mall food court salad, turkey burgers are a life improvement worth getting excited about.)

The best part about this whole cooking experiment though, and the reason I'm sharing it I suppose, is really just the fact that every time I make a meal on a weeknight, I feel like I'm making this BigLaw life that shouldn't work, work.**  Which is so gratifying!  It's like, at least I'm winning at dinner, right?

Anyway, I'll try to post my favorite easy recipes as I discover them, and I hope you'll share your own faves in the comments or by email!




*The book I've been using most is Robin Rescues Dinner, which is organized into 52 weeks of 3 seasonal meal plans per week.  The recipes allow you to make some stuff a day or two ahead of time, and they have overlapping ingredients so you don't end up wasting food (also, this is where the awesome turkey burger recipe came from!).  I also bought Cook's Illustrated's The Best Make Ahead Recipes and Not Your Mother's Slow Cooker Cookbook.  I have high hopes for the crockpot -- I feel like you can do incredible things in there.  (Crockpot cake anyone?)

**Alternatively, I may have written this post entirely as an excuse to re-watch that Whole Foods video.  Which (in my book) is totally legit (just sayin').

Friday Night Date

I've been feeling a little down on LA lately, but Friday night was one of those nights that reminded me just why I decided to move here in the first place.

I had no expectations going into this Friday.  I had resigned myself to maybe a dinner out and some tivo.  But then I came across a blurb on the LAist about this Surf & Skate auction at Bergamot Station -- the first in the Venice Art Walk & Auctions series.  Interesting, I thought.  We would definitely be the square-est people there, assuming there were people there, which there might not be, and that would just be awk.  And it could definitely get weird; I mean, it's an art thing, and it involves Venice.  But.  Imagine the people watching.  Maybe Tree Man will show up.  So much potential there....

So we went.  And it was awesome.

The show and auction took place at Track 16, one of the galleries at Bergamot Station (the largest group of art galleries on the West Side).  All the displayed boards were designed and created by local artists, and most of them were really reasonably priced (many of them went for around $100-200).  They also had a 50's-style diner car inside the gallery for all your PBR-drinking needs, and a DJ playing weird electronica.  Totally set the scene.

After perusing all the people art, and having a drink in the diner car, we took a food-truck break.  (Obviously there were food trucks.  Did you really expect that guy in the cheetah-skull jean jacket to eat food off of a real plate?)  We went with the Lobsta Truck because Brian had read a rave review on Urban Daddy, and let me just tell you, YOU NEED TO FIND THIS TRUCK NOW.  Seriously.  It's worth creating a Twitter account just to track the whereabouts of this truck so that you, too, can experience the sweet, sweet buttery joy of the Lobsta Truck lobster roll.  We went back and gave them a giant tip after we finished our roll because it was just that good.

And then when the auction ended, we went home and drank wine along with Anthony Bourdain while he drunkenly stumbled through some other third-world country, as he does.  

How's that for date night?

Deadmau5

We went to Hollywood on Saturday night, and this is what happened:

(Necessary soundtrack)

{via YouTube}

{thanks to Tim for the tickets!}

If you played the soundtrack up at the top, then you don't need me to explain how freaking amazing Deadmau5 is (and if you didn't, you're missing out)!  The Hard X Mouth Taped Shut concert (and Sony promotional event for Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - CANNOT WAIT) was the most insane, exhilarating, all around most fun party/concert ever!  Like the kind where you can't help but jump like you did when you were 11 at the Blink182 concert but it's ok because everyone around you is jumping and you're all part of a giant pulsing techno mass and you feel like maybe all those feet landing at once might actually be part of the beat and you can't help but be happier than ever before.  You know what I mean?

Thanks, again, L.A. for my second totally unexpected and awesome music experience this week (the first is here)!

Still 18 at Heart

I'm pretty sure this song is supposed to make me at least roll my eyes, or shake my head in disapproval at the degenerate state of youth and the music industry today, or something like that.  But instead, it makes me want to dig a red solo cup out of my cabinets (we always have an emergency supply), raise it valiantly in salute to Toby Keith, and shout "PROCEED TO PARTY!"  That probably says something about my maturity (what maturity?), but for reals guys, this song just makes me so unexpectedly happy.

{OK, I'm not vouching for the video guys, just the song.  Chill.}

I bet this is now the unofficial soundtrack to life on every college campus right now, and ohhhh, how I wish I could be there, singing along, saluting the greatness of a life of irresponsibility.  There's not much I wouldn't trade for a few more years of college glory.

"I'd Rather Die Than Exercise"

{hello lady bug on my sneaker}

I have a confession to make.  I've been running lately.  It's not anything serious; but it is running.  Please don't de-friend me.

If you don't know me, you might not understand why this is a confession at all.  So let me start by saying that one of my friends (Caroline, of "friendship wreath" fame) recently sent me this WSJ article in which Danielle Steele was interviewed, with the introductory note "Ashley, I think you would approve of Ms. Steele's attitude towards gyms."  The attitude referred to can be summed up by this little quip from Ms. Steele, herself:

"The French don't really exercise and I'm originally French. I used to ride horses and ice skate as a child, but I would rather die than exercise today. I smoke, I drink and while I have a trainer, I avoid her by all means necessary. People in California always want to know about your workout program; I don't really know what to tell them."  (Emphasis added, obvi.)

Turns out, Caroline was right about me, as good friends always are.  And turns out Ms. Steele and I share more than just a common disdain for the American institution of the gym; we were also both ice skaters.  Yes, it's true.  Once upon a time, I was a figure skater (oh, just for 11 or 12 years or so).  During that time, my fellow skaters and I spent about 6 hours per day in some sort of intense fitness training.  Usually around 3 hours of skating practice per day, and then 2-3 hours in either strength training with high school football players (I wish I were kidding), or in a ballet class in which our miniature yet incredibly intimidating teacher would contort our bodies into unthinkable positions usually resulting in one or both feet positioned and pointed somewhere above our heads (and from which I may have developed workout-PTSD).

We also had to run.  A lot.  On treadmills.  Burning throats, heaving ribcages, and the generally degrading awareness of being forced to run in place.  Inside.  On a machine.  But yet, here I am giving running another shot.  I'm still adverse to the gym, mind you, as this running occurs only outside, where there is at least a possibility that I could catch a tan, or a nice view.  But I am running, and I kind of sometimes maybe a little like it.

So to what do I owe this sudden change of heart?  Let's start with the wrong answers.  First: I promise you that I am not running out of some mindless acceptance of the commonly repeated adage that "you should run a marathon once in your life, just to say you did it."  Doesn't anyone know where the name "marathon" came from?  It's not exactly a winning endorsement.  I just will never understand how the marathon has become such an accepted element of popular culture.

Second: I also promise you that I am not chasing a vain and unrealistic dream of attaining the "perfectly toned" body.  No my dears, a toned body has never been, and will never be enough motivation to make me endure the awful reality of running.  But you know what is?  A toned brain.  (Please note that the dorkiness gets worse from this point on.)

Brian (which is only one letter switcheroo from being "brain" -- totally irrelevant) has been reading (listening on tape to) this book called Spark: The Revolutionary New Science of Exercise and the Brain, by John T. Ratey, in which John, or shall I say, Dr. Ratey, rattles on about the non-aesthetic benefits to exercise, and especially cardio.  Seeing as though he is a real life psychiatrist and professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School and all, I'm inclined to believe him.  Now, don't quote me on this because it's all coming second-hand from Brian (and don't quote him on it either because that's a lot of pressure), but the book points to all sorts of studies that show that exercise increases neuroplasticity (the quality in brain cells that allows you to LEARN), stimulates your hippocampus (the thing in your brain that allows you to REMEMBER what you learn), and helps you both eliminate the STRESS you are already dealing with (by allowing your body to release the fight-or-flight chemicals that build up) and be able to better cope with future stress (by inducing low levels of stress so that your brain builds up a sort of immunity).  Well now, those words sound a little familiar.  Yes, in fact, learning, remembering, and stress might just be the three keywords to sum up the life of a law school graduate studying for the Bar exam.  So he got me, this Doctor.

How did he know that in my Bar-Brain-induced desperation to memorize endless stacks of flashcards and Roman numeral-ed outlines, I will do almost anything that brings with it a promise of increased brain power?  I don't know how, but he got me, that sneaky Doctor.

So now, I run.  I run because I need to pass the Bar exam, and I need to be a lawyer, and because I'm realizing now more than ever that my currency in life is my brain juice (thank you, Manrepeller, bringing that term into my vocabulary).  Yes, it's quite clear to me that in the marriage of my mind and body, my mind is definitely the bread winner, and for that, if for nothing else, I need it.  And as the days get closer to when I will actually have to put my thinking to the real world test, where all I will have to count on when I'm suddenly accountable for representing other people's interests is my brain juice, I am more and more terrified aware of the importance of the mind-body connection, and more and more willing to do anything, even run, to make that connection stronger.  Except maybe drink those gross green shots of who-knows-what at healthy smoothie places.  So instead, I've been running lately.