Trying to change, for a change.

Ok, this is experimental. My home smells like fish, badly. I took out the trash, turned on the ceiling fan and lit my BBW Beach Cabana three wick super powered candle but it just won't go away.

Reason being fish is all I've been eating lately.

LA changed me. Seriously.

I probably haven't cooked meat in five months. I love meat.

I guess this town forces to have you ground yourself to something. Everything spins around so fast and you don't wanna get thrown out to the edge. That something people hold on to most of the times is within them. The one thing you can really trust to keep you sane.

Someone gets spiritual, someone looks for energy in the gym, someone smokes to find clarity.

I, like the many other pathetic wanna-bes that punctuate this city turned to a healthy all round life style. But come on you know I'm for real and all the other pale skinned, fakely shabby fucking hipsters have nothing on me. I do get to rub elbows with them on the path I've chosen but I'm gonna throw a big fat disclaimer out there: my reasons are ethical, medical, and most of all true, theirs is just a way to spread the word that they are vegan, whatever the fuck that means.

***

I'm making a habit of starting posts and then leaving them to dry in the sun so a dog can come and chew on them, like beef jerky.

The point was that I had introduced every inch of my body to a new lifestyle. Then I went home to Italy and fucked it all up. Food is just too good.

Now that I'm back and working there's no room to be picky as any crew member knows when it comes to crafty, it is what it is.

I was being so good at going to yoga classes, skinny little blondes didn't even make me throw up in my mouth anymore, I also bought a Groupon for Cardio Barre classes, that I haven't printed out yet, but fear not! The offer doesn't expire till December and I am sure I will find my way back Master Jedi.

As my fridge is empty, any day is a good day to go out and restock on healthy foodery. And I might just do that, someday.

But in the meantime if you are being a good girl here's what you might find very helpful.

My Fitness Pal is a little (FREE) app that will keep you on track.

It's easy to use, fun too if you like me are batshit crazy and like lists and forms and boxes and check marks.

It is in no way a nutritionist or accurate but it does provide you with an idea of how much exactly you've been staring into the fridge per day. Which I find very useful as I tend to get hungry easily and forget that I have just finished stuffing my face like minutes before.

Here's how it works:

You set it up with your height, weight and desired goal, so the alien inside your iPhone does the math for you and comes up with a calorie plan that fits. Mine was too low, but I kept it as a reference, knowing that I would go over it anyway, at least I would stop when really needed.

Everyday you fill in your diary with info. All kinds of info. What you've eaten, neatly divided per meal, how much you've exercised, personally if I walked 5 minutes to my car I would put that in there, how many dumps you've taken. Just kidding. And thus you have an exact map of meaningless aspects of your life. 

How to add foods you ask?

Here's the lowdown. There is an online database, updated daily worldwide, so any kind of food is already in there. For those of you in the US there's a bunch of popular restaurants' dishes too, like I don't know Starbucks, Corner Bakery, and for the brave Jack in the box or In & Out, the healthy stuff... You just select it and BAM!

The food you're looking for is not there and you're too lazy to look up nutritional values and type them in? Calm the fuck down, there's an amazing feature. Barcode reader. Yes your eyes do not fool you. Select, place your phone in front of a barcode and BAM!! Product's there.

It's the simplest thing I'm telling you!

 

At the end of the day you have a whole lotta bunch of charts to show you your progress and shit, by day, by week, and in regards to your set goal.

Unfortunately you have to have a pretty amazing constance. I lasted three weeks, then as you can see I went missing, in Rome, with some carbonara up my ass.

I guess I should start calling LA home now

I started this post on March 6th.

Today marks the second week of my glorious return to Los Angeles.

On the night I got back I was so shitfaced from the flight I went straight to bed. When I woke up I felt kind of stoned. First of all it was 5:00 am, a time frame I don't chew on easily. Second, I wasn't sure where I stood in relation to the place I woke up into, it felt like I knew it, in some sort of etherial way, like I had once dreamt of it. That kind of threw me off a bit. I floated around its lavishly dirty locales (two months and counting without a single dusting - but I have to admit it looked better than I expected, which was basically a single comprehensive rolling hay bale of lint) and since I couldn't really make out if I was awake or not, I went to get a new phone deal and a car. Upon my retreat to the palace I took a breather and realized that I had indeed not seen it in my dreams, quite the contrary, I had lived in it and made it much my own. A wave of recognition crushed my skull and everything suddenly started to get a lot more real. So real in fact that I got hungry, and wanted to make soup, only to discover that I had no gas. Apparently you have to pay bills in the US, tsk.

Cue day two. I took a trip to the Gas Company because they had to cross check two photo IDs before they could issue me any services. By any means the US government cares to make you feel like a vicious cockroach. When that was settled I found out the first available appointment with a technician was going to be in a week. Jesus H Christ. Ok Ralph's, load me up with frozen meals. Thank the begeezes I had purchased a microwave before leaving. No cooking ability at home gave me the opportunity to space out, thus making it possible for me to gather an LED TV, a 3D blu ray player, a Keurig, cable TV and a gazillion knick knacks to make my place much homier. So when gas finally made its way back I was totally dolled up in a bubble of joy. Not to mention that my week in the making gas guy found out the heater in my living room was slowly killing me via carbon monoxide. Bad bad bad rental agency. Should I sue? Come on it's America!!

The Oscars kind of marked the end of my big transition. It was so over the top to be here, just a couple of blocks away from the real thing that after that glorious Sunday things shifted back to a lower, steadier gear. As they should.

To begin with, Stacy Keibler was wearing gold. And a big fat flower on her hip. When her man is up for an award a lady does not outdo him. Take Angelina, and let's please forget about her leg for a moment, who stood aside and let nominated Brad Pitt walk the carpet alone and get his press and shiz. Now we know you're not really dating George, Stacy, but since you're pretending you should pretend well, and with class.

Then I saw Penelope Cruz, and once again she butchered the English language. Now these are things that fuck with me. She is allowed to come and go as she pleases, she practically lives here, and doesn't even care to learn how to speak. I'll tell you more. I went to Sears the other day looking for power strips, so I approached this sales assistant, regularly employed, possibly possessing permanent residency, Lord have mercy even citizenship, and told him what I needed. This is what he responded: "Can you ask someone else? I only be in America one year. I no speak English". Should I comment? No, because I totally could. In fact I will. One thing is to make it to immigrant status before I do, I will bitchslap you, but not hate on you. One entirely other thing is telling TO MY FACE that you are legally allowed to stay and work in this country, and you have in fact already been hanging around for a complete earth turnaround, and you didn't even bother learning how to fucking speak English... when I am quite frankly an asset but was cornered like a motherfucker and almost asked to pee on a stick to be allowed back in the door. How does that happen? HOW DOES IT HAPPEN??

Back to the Academy Awards, ok, they were obsessing over telling us how much they love the movies. Will you just go back to buying tickets to the theaters America? So they can spare us. Thank you very much. On this matter I actually read the tweet that summed it all up, @poniewozik wrote: You know what part of the Oscars should remind people that they love movies? THE NOMINATED FILMS. Amen.

And just as a side note everyone I know texted me about the lady dedicating her Oscar to Italee. Yes, we thug.

One more thing that strikes me every year is how all the technical winners always manage to stand up and walk to the stage, no matter how emotional or astonished. They cry and smile and overall healthily react to the win. It's a huge thing for them too you know. And then there's actors. Oh actors just have to add that twist. They have to. Octavia Spencer, I kind of like you. But what about the fact that you need help to be extracted from your chair and wobble your way up like a huge truffle with disabilities. You just wanna milk the very last drop of that standing ovation, attention whore. Actors.

Speaking of, watching with me in the Burbank living room it was mostly kiwi actors, out here for pilot season. They're all so pretty without even trying. Gracious, from within their sundresses and impossibly sculpted perfect fake bed hair.

Back on March 6th, this is where I was going to go with it:

- actors depress me, because they always look better than you, they are funnier than you, they have better answers and nicer jokes. They also most of the times have less brain, but that, not always I find easy to remember.

- coming down from the Oscars high was hard. The little animals of the forest retired in their warm burrows and left me out in the cold. No one seemed to remember I had once lived here, despite my describing all the newfound memories of me actually inhabiting the land. And then I discovered Food Network and I pondered a change of career. But that didn't happen. I'm too greedy to share meals with others.

And this is what I'm gonna say now:
- bye!

Coo-kie or not coo-kie

I'm sitting at my brand new vintage shabby chic table contemplating whether I should eat a cookie before going to bed or maybe not when a HUGE sign comes my way.

I have approximately 3.481 cookies to go before my ass looks like those two half inflated basketballs, so... I'ma say YES! Although maybe my mouth is too full with the words "shabby chic" to allow for both some chocs or a "yes"...

Los Angeles update coming soon!

Roma VS Los Angeles

Things I’m going to miss about Rome

Bidets

It appears this is the French word for pony because you ride the thing like it takes you places. One never stops learning. History tells us that furniture makers in the late 17th century introduced it in France for their Royals’ rooms. Because we all know they are clean people over there.

This would probably trick you into thinking they are big on bidets in baguette land nowadays. Think again! Looks like this is the one thing we savvy borrowed from our arch nemesis. We are smart what can I say. A bathroom without a bidet is not on anybody’s radar where I come from. We’re just not built that way.

Now this is a definition taken from Wikipedia, best ever, cracks me up!

Bidets are primarily used to wash and clean the genitalia, perineum, inner buttocks, and anus.

Very meticulous, thank you.

Some other little facts I didn’t know and have learn today:

Fact # 1 - Bidets may also be used to clean any other part of the body; they are very convenient for cleaning shaven heads, for example.

Who knew! I’d love for someone to explain me why that is better than a regular shower or sink. Leg exercise?

Fact # 2 - Bidets once served as a practical way for couples to prepare themselves before sex.

Any expert?

The thing I don’t get about countries that don’t use them is why the heck should one take a whole shower or, and I don’t want to think about it, keep the dirt where it is, when somebody actually gave them a way to get the best of both worlds? Just beyond me.

So here I am picturing myself trying the weirdest stuff to clean my genitalia and anus, thanks again Wikipedia, next to the sink with the aid of maybe a sponge, dripping water all over the floor. Very convenient.

Mozzarella e prosciutto

Hot summer days’ quick lunches, year round munchies. Fine sliced raw ham, prosciutto, and milk dripping buffalo mozzarella are my saviors. I usually wrap the prosciutto around a small mozzarella ball and OMG. I may be able to find it in So Cal but what will I have to sell in order to buy them? We shall see… Some things I can certainly deprive myself of for a bite of heaven!

Blinds

When I was young before going to bed I used to cover up every single light in my room with a piece of cloth. Digital clocks, TVs, chargers, you name it. Then I lived in England. Come dawn I had no escape, that sneaky light was all over the place. British boot camp built my character and I can proudly say that I no longer go coocoo on every electrical device in sight. But I still love my Italian traditional blind, it astounds me how smart we are. As above, why not use it if it’s there. US sunrise I fear you not, but I hope I get thick curtains in my house.

My room

I designed my room from scratch in 2005. I sat down and I drew it all with colored pencils. I was so dedicated to it. I got it so right after 6 years I would change nothing. My room is an open book to read me, it is me if I were furniture, that’s why we get along so well. I’m going to miss you room!

Cappuccino e cornetto

I get it I’m a hunger whore. I just love food what can I say! Have you ever tasted a hot cappuccino with powder chocolate all over it and a flaming cornetto with tender insides melting in your mouth first thing in the morning? If you have, you understand me. If you haven’t, sorry dude.

Things I’m looking forward to in L.A.

Thrift

Old and skanky is the new sexy. From clothes to furniture my DIY geekness is in serious need of an outlet and believe me when I say choice in Italy is limited. The closest thing to a supply store doesn’t even carry magnets, how lame is that? Also we don’t have yards, do your math. No yard sales, no used stuff, no nothing. Pardon me what? Oh flea markets, yes we have those. Go take a look at one of them, I’ll pay you if you find anything interesting!

My own kitchen

Last time I lived by myself in British boot camp the sweetest thing that happened to me was having my own kitchen, without my mom. Now cooking is my outlet. Some people create stories, I create dishes. This woman who gave me life also likes to take it away a little piece at a time with her obsessive compulsive need to clean and never let go of the stove, so I have no outlet, and I die. She cooks good for me don’t get me wrong but sometimes I just need to get my hands dirty and she just, won’t, let me. Listen to this, one time at dinner I was pouring some stuff from a pan. When I was done (30 seconds later) I went searching for the lid on the table where I left it (30 seconds before) and it wasn’t there. It was in my mom’s hands, at the sink, being washed. And her dinner was not even finished. You understand my excitement.

Eggo’s chocolate chip waffles

The sharpest memory of my 2001 summer in Omaha, Nebraska. Great times huh?!

Disneyland

You think I’m weird and giddy? You’ve never seen me inside the happiest place on earth that’s all I have to say…

Pancakes

Or probably I should say french toasts, cause I don’t know if they make funnel cakes down in So Cal. Anything American, sweet but not too much that can substitute a cornetto and that I never get to eat at home will make my sour times less bitter. I’ll stack up.