Archive | January, 2013

The J. Lo Bag

31 Jan

2013-01-30 00.31.37

As an added perspective, the surfboard is over 7′ 

One of my nicknames is J Lo.  Okay, fine, one of the nicknames I constantly try to promote for myself is J Lo.  I’ve signed emails J. Lo. I’ve introduced myself as J. Lo.  I’ve even answered the, “what name would you like to be called” beginning-of-the-semester question as J. Lo.

I mean, my name is Jillian Lorraine.  It’s RIGHT THERE.

Keep this in mind, because this becomes important for the story later on.

Moving on. I recently bought a beach bag, a big deal in my life.  Things had reached a drastic turning point where I was hauling beach supplies all around Malibu and it just wasn’t right.  The time had come!

I spent a few minutes looking online, made what I thought was a wonderful purchase, and moved on with my life.

Said beach bag arrived this week in a crate.  As Lane Kim said, “To paint you a picture, it can fit you and me plus everything we own and still have enough room to do a little souvenir shopping.”

“Maybe it’s okay.” I thought.  “When’s the last time you ever had a beach bag and went–you know what would make this even better? If it was smaller. NEVER, that’s when.”

I reached out for guidance to my friends Kitty Cat and Chuckjuice. (It was a nickname sort  of day.)

J. Lo: It’s not that bad, right?

Kitty Cat: You know, it’s kind of like you.  It’s cute and a little ridiculous.

J. Lo: Aww, thank you so much.  Chuckjuice, what do you think of my bag?

Chuckjuice: (Wide eyes)

J. Lo: Well?

Chuckjuice: We have a thing called beach swag and that’s not it.

J. Lo: It’s a J. Lo bag.

Kitty Cat: You could put all your gold hoops in that.

J. Lo: So am I keeping the bag?

Chuckjuice: That is a bag.  Like if I saw you at the beach I would think…that girl is going to the beach.  Like she’ll be there from 7:00am to 7:00pm.

J. Lo: But I could put all my books in there.  You know I go to the beach with three books.

Kitty Cat: You could put three 12 packs of diet coke in there too.  And a toddler.

Chuckjuice: (Wide eyes)

I think I’m being forced to reevaluate the J. Lo bag.  Is this why the J. Lo nickname won’t stick?  I don’t have enough swag?

I Blame Autocorrect

30 Jan



I love the autocorrect excuse.

I misspelled a word?  Stupid autocorrect!

I said something I really shouldn’t have?  There goes autocorrect again…

LA has record cold temperatures? I BLAME AUTOCORRECT AND SO SHOULD YOU!

Really it’s a catch-all.

This week, however, I’ve had to come to terms with some of my own autocorrect problems, namely the things my phone now recognizes but probably shouldn’t.

A partial list of words my phone autocorrects aka a harsh look into my life:










What does this say about me?  Wait, don’t answer that.  Let’s just blame autocorrect.

Working The Chuck Angles

29 Jan

The most important thing I learned this week?  How to “work the Chuck angles.”

I’m confident my serious face will improve.



Bouquets of Sharpened Pencils

28 Jan


This year for my birthday my friend Amy gave me two things:

1. The When Harry Met Sally screenplay (Nora!)
2. A bouquet of sharpened pencils (Nora times two!)

There are a few conclusions you could come to about this. Like perhaps that I’m obsessed with Nora Ephron (truth). Or that Amy is extremely thoughtful (truth times two). But the main conclusion from this is that I’m ridiculously sentimental. You see, the pencils came along with this instruction:

Any time this year you have a moment, a moment of happiness, a moment of writing, leave a pencil there to mark the moment.

There were some additional instructions and meaningful insights, but that’s the gist. I was given 18 pencils and the instruction to mark my happiest moments of my 25th year of life with them.

Amy thinks of these types of things and I only-too-happily fulfill them. I was MADE for these types of things. I WIN these types of things. I told her by the end of the year not only would I have given all the pencils out, I’d probably write a book about the emotional journey of the pencils.  I can see the bestseller now:

On Point: How One Girl Changed Her Life With Only The Help Of 18 Pencils

(I am now accepting any and all title suggestions…)

This week I had a pencil moment, pencil moment number six to be precise. It was unexpected as all my pencil moments have been so far.  I love that.  I love not knowing when my life is going to surprise me with 100% happiness.

It was just me and my camera and the Malibu Pier. It was blustery, I was wearing my “writing sweater” and the sky was perfect. I took a bajillion pictures and felt so unbelievably lucky to live where I do.

That’s the magic of the pencils. It makes me realize when I’m really, truly at peace. It helps me learn about myself and my priorities.  It reminds me how simple my happiness can be if I let it.

Bouquets of sharpened pencils for everyone!

The Wisdom of LC

27 Jan



Brody: Honestly, I’ve not had the best relationships in the past so I’m scared to get into a relationship.

Lauren: Nobody’s had the best relationships in the past, that’s why they end.

Only In Dreams

26 Jan


In my assignment of Grey’s Anatomy characters, Amy is a Bailey.  I am a Meredith.

I take my dreams very seriously, too seriously some might say.  Luckily so do my friends.  This means several times a week I have conversations like this:

Amy: Last night I had a Grey’s dream.  I had my baby at Seattle Grace.  She needed surgery, and I only trusted Alex with her life.  Of all the doctors.  And now I’ve been thinking about it all morning.  Is Alex the person I trust most in the cast?  What does this mean?

Jill: I trust Cristina most.

Amy: In waking hours I would say the same, but apparently my subconscious has other plans for me.  You should consider who is your doctor at Seattle Grace.  It might throw you into madness, though.

Don’t I just have the best friends?

PS After careful introspection I’m still going with Cristina as the cast member I trust most.  And McSteamy as the cast member I trust most with my heart.  WHAT? Yes, I went there.

Instagram Attack

25 Jan

Chuck working his angles.  Hilary dancing it out.  Me eating…life as usual in Malibu.


Attention 12-Year-Old Jill

24 Jan



Dermot Mulroney, a crush for all ages.

This weekend I was supposed to go home for the Sundance Film Festival.  Then reality hit, and the fact that I’m a student hit, and the fact that I have no money REALLY hit. And here I am, not in Utah.

This is a huge disappointment.  There are a lot of wonderful things about Utah–chocolate covered cinnamon bears, for one–but near that top of the Wonderful Things About Utah list is the Sundance Film Festival.  And I’m missing it.

When I was 12 if you had told me I would ever utter the sentence, “there are a lot of wonderful things about Utah” I wouldn’t have believed you. You see, at the age of 12, I moved from the perennial heat of Las Vegas to the frozen tundra of South Jordan, Utah. At the age of 12 I only had two words to describe my new home, “cold” and “weird.”

It didn’t help that because of my move I was forced to go to FOUR years of middle school.  Yes, 6th-9th grade I spent in a perpetual state of awkwardness.  I deserve some sort of medal for surviving that, and surviving it without the help of a straightener, to boot.  (Pictures will not be forthcoming.)

Over time and post the-longest-middle-school-experience-ever, things improved for me in Utah.  I purchased a pair of snow boots.  I made some amazing friends. Cafe Rio opened its doors. Eventually I went from the girl who hated Utah with a burning preteen passion to the girl who loves Utah, weirdness and all. I even find myself oddly protective of it now, in a I-still-make-fun-of-it-sometimes-because-you-have-to-laugh-at-yourself kind of way.

I wish I could go back and tell my 12-year-old self that it would all be okay.  That Utah would grow on her and eventually feel like home.  That one day she’d even order fry sauce to go with her Leatherby’s fries.

There’s no way she’d believe me, though.  12-year-old Jill still had a lot to learn.  Like what to do with her eyebrows.  Like why Mambo Number Five wasn’t the height of musical genius.  Like how to find the good anywhere she was.

I imagine if 12-year-old Jill had been able to read this and get a glimpse into her future, she would have rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever.  I’ll always and forever hate Utah.  Also, where did my life go so horribly off course?  What is this Kate Middleton girl doing with my man?”

Sorry, 12-year-old self.  You didn’t marry Prince William.  But you did learn to love Utah.  Call it a wash?

In Which I Wax Overly Emotional About Conan O’Brien

23 Jan


We know my feelings on the charming, charming Jay Leno and his jean on jean get up.  We know about my vibes with him.  We know that he’s got it going on.

But then last week I went to Conan.  Last week I saw that tall redhead dance and perform physical comedy and light up the room and my heart.

I know what you’re thinking.  Again, Jill?  Do you just fall in love with any old TV host you see live?  WHERE DOES THE MADNESS END?

Believe me, I wondered this myself. But today I went to Dr. Phil and there was just nothing between us. Nothing at all. So there.

Anyway, while at Conan, I suddenly grew emotional about the whole Tonight Show debacle.  The unfairness of it all just welled up inside of me. “This man deserves everything good in the world,” I thought, watching him video blog in front of a live audience.

“Jill,” my rational side implored, “It’s okay.  This man has a good life.  He has a wife and kids.  He has a great show.  His hair is perfect.  He was paid $33 million in the whole ordeal. This happened in 2010.”

And then my emotional side answered back, “Yes, but he didn’t want the money.  HE WANTED THE TONIGHT SHOW. This is as relevant today as it was in January 2010.  This will never stop being relevant.”

I was genuinely torn up about the whole thing, perhaps a testament to my ability to over-relate to people I do not know.

Team Coco!

PS: Can we talk about Andy Richter for a moment?  What is he doing on this show?  I think he spoke two lines the whole time.  I’m confused??

New Year, New Word

22 Jan


Yes, I do own and wear a Star Wars shirt.

If you’ve watched any television show with me EVER, I have:

1) Assigned you a character from the show

2) Assigned myself a character from the show

3) Assigned a character from the show to every important person in my life, complete with well-thought-out reasoning and personality analyses

You could say I like assigning things.

I thought this was normal until I was talking to a friend one day who had never done this. Like ever.

“Wait, so who is your Friends character?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”


I’ve been told before that this need to categorize is annoying. “Just watch the show! Not every character has to relate to your life!” I can’t help it. I love putting words to things. And just so you know, I’m a Ross.

In Eat, Pray, Love, The Great Elizabeth Gilbert does something similar–she assigns words to cities. She says:

Every city has a single word that defines it, that identifies most people who live there. If you could read people’s thoughts as they were passing you on the streets of any given place, you would discover that most of them are thinking the same thought. Whatever that majority thought might be – that is the word of the city.

I adore this concept for a million reasons, but mainly because ever since I read Eat, Pray, Love I’ve been assigning words like crazy–to cities, events, people. And then at the end of the year, I assign a word to the year.

2012 my word was healing.

I didn’t know that at the time. I was just living life, trying to make it through, but at the end I could see it. I started 2012 broken and ended it…not.

What will my 2013 word be? I wish I knew in advance. I wish that someone would just say, “Hey Jill, your 2013 word will be mortgage!” or “Heads up, 2013 will be the year of the perfect hair.” Then I could plan for the sudden financial windfall that will enable me to buy a home or hang my life’s hopes on a haircut. How delightful would that be? Alas, I will have to wait and experience it as it happens. I’m bad at that.

I want my 2013 word to be “writer.” Can I say that? I’m always so embarrassed to admit that, but I’m getting better at owning up to it.

What was your word for 2012?