What Do You Believe?

I believe that all is fair in love and rock n’ roll. I believe that the path to Eden leads straight through paradise. I believe that your soul meets your body where the ocean meets the sand, I believe in Juicy Couture Jeans. I believe that the cost of freedom is buried in the ground. That Sodomy is between God and me. In red wine. In New Castle. In 85% dark chocolate. I believe that you can seduce someone with your eyes or an ass wiggle when you walk. I believe in change. I believe we are young despite the years. We are concern. We are hope despite the times. I believe in green eyes. In security blankets. In the difference between self-love and conceit. I believe music saves your mortal soul. That baseball is a class act and that tivo is the greatest invention since sliced bread. I believe that I have so much life running through my veins that I am going insane. Lets imitate reality. I believe I am the radio song, the one that you turned up. I believe that love will be my strongest weapon. That Oral is fun. In concerts. In scary movies and romantic comedies. I believe there is nothing you cannot be do or have. I believe that guys with good taste in music are more interesting and better looking. I believe in a thing called love. I believe in superheroes. I believe I can get whatever I want. I believe I get everything I want eventually. I believe Mr. Big was a better guy to be with than Aiden. I believe everybody needs somebody to love. I believe in caffeine, in high heels and flip-flops. I believe in peace rather than being anti-war. I believe that since everyone is dying, maybe it is time we live. I believe it is never too late. I believe it takes courage to right a wrong, to take it back, to apologize and swallow our pride. I believe in grabbing my guy’s ass in public...and holding his hand. I believe we are allowed to want what we want without anyone saying otherwise and I believe that the Angel’s will kick the A’s ass this week and come out on top. I believe in sunrises and poetry. In ice cubes and electronic bill pay. I believe nothing is wrong, hats only work on some girls, and the ego is the only cause of ones suffering. I believe in kissing…lots and lots of kissing and really hot showers…with someone in there with you. I believe true love shouldn’t be easy to find, cause then the quest to get it would have no reward. I believe hindsight is 20/20, springtime in New York is perfect, America is a pretty damn good country, mint chocolate chip ice cream is a great accessory to summer and guys with fake tans cannot be trusted. I believe in the hot dog, the Koala bear and diamonds….lots of diamonds.
I believe in filing my cup and making me happy, in lazy days and passion fruit.

Dear ones, tell me….what do you believe?

And bonus points to anyone who can tell me what song lyrics are sprinkled in there : )

How Rachel Heather Lost Her Modesty

This is a quite embarrassing (not for me but maybe for readers) story and deeply personal and yet recent conversations have inspired me to write it. If you are modest and/or blush easily…please skip now.

As I have touched upon before, I got very sick when I was 13 and as such had to be put on very high doses of prednisone. I am not talking about the doses they give to asthma patients. I am talking about doses as high as they gave Mickey Mantle post transplant. Many of you may not remember, but post transplant with all that prednisone (a type of steroid) he ballooned out. Need a visual? Think of Violett in Willy Wonka.

So there I am at 13, gaining 45 pounds on my very tiny frame. People actually stopped recognizing me but I will get into that story later.

Fast forward a couple of years and all of that weight had come off, I was my petite self again and back to dancing. Except one thing. My freaking boobs were gianourmous! You know those anorexic looking models or porn stars with HUGE boobs and you have to wonder if they might topple over if the wind picked up even the slightest? That is Rachel Heather at the age of 15.

I hated it. OK girls I know what you may be thinking (“is she nuts” comes to mind) but picture a 4’11” (ok fine at that time I was more in the 4’9” category) who was 90 pounds with melons that might look normal on a girl of the 5’7” variety but looked quite “odd” on me. Factor in that being a competitive dancer ain't a good thing if you have large jugs.

Age 16, I finally convinced my mother to let me get a Breast Reduction. I called it a very expensive conversion back to tiny tank tops with no bra.

Was I nervous? No.

I was not nervous when I went in for my consultation and had to disrobe for my dad’s college roommate who happens to be the best plastic surgeon in town.

I was not nervous when he took pictures of my breasts.

I was not nervous when he grabbed a red marker and starting drawing on my boobies making me look like a porno version of a circus clown.

“What size do you want to be?” he asked me.

I immediately liked and trusted him because he did not ask my mother that question, he asked me. I also had seen pictures of him drunk, flipping off the camera, in the old UCLA dorm so I had blackmail just in case he fucked it up.

“I just want to be the size I was supposed to be, as if I were never on the meds,” I explained to him.

Much to the shock and awe of my friends and fellow dancers I went ahead and scheduled the surgery.

As I walked into the hospital on the morning of my surgery the nerves finally set in. Though, I was determined not to show it I secretly just wanted to hold my mothers hand through the whole damn thing.

It was one thing for my doctor to feel my Cha Chas but quite another to have a room full of surgeons, anesthesiologists, nurses, interns and residences' all staring at my naked body while it was being cut to shreds, prodded, poked, maneuvered, and sewn back together again. I had not even gotten naked in front of a boy yet and here I was putting on a whole show!

See when I put it that way who would not want to shit their pants?

I sat in the pre-op room and took off my clothes and Dr. Vladamir (yes my plastic surgeon was named Vladamir….I see your smirks) came in to discuss the procedure and do my pre-op clown markings.

I handed him a size XS pretty purple tank top with no room for a bra or anything besides a b-cup.

“Just in case you forgot the size"! I told him, trying to use humor to deflect my feeling of impending doom.

By now you all probably think I am totally nuts. Stick with me.

I am wheeled into the operating room and a friendly (almost too friendly..like the kind that try to smile really big when they tell you that you are going to die) nurse walks in. She is too enthusiastic and it makes me want slap her except she has drugs in her hand so I would rather play nice so she can share the wealth.

“Would you like something to relax?” she asks me

“Hell yeah,” I say, “I will take whatever it is you got”

She inserts a needle into my IV while telling me this would help with the nerves.

I don’t even remember falling asleep. All I remember is opening my eyes, feeling heavy and glancing at the clock to see that it is 6 hours after I first went into the operating room.

Holy shit! That witch tricked me!

OK at this point I am on drugs so the thoughts coming out of my head will have to remain classified for I don’t want any readers to judge my sanity.

The surgery was a success. I was given my own suite in the hospital (benefits of having a dad that is one of the head honchos) and was catered to by many nurses including one very handsome man who I think I made a bad first impression on.

I didn’t do much; I just threw up on him…no biggie right?

Everyone made a big deal about it. It might have been the exquisite morphine but, honestly, nothing really fazed me. I felt pain (pain like I cannot even describe so I won’t) but then it went away and I was floating up in the air and laughing. Or I was sleeping. When the pain was not there, I only felt pressure.

They told me I could not dance for six weeks. I was back dancing in four.


When I head back to the dance studio my dance teacher takes me into the backroom and asks to see my new boobies. No, this is not odd. My dance teacher has known me since I was three; she was just excited for me. So I went and showed her my boobs along with some fellow dancers. I got big huge hug (as much of a hug as you can give someone with a big bandage and stitches)

From then on out, I did not give two flying shits who I showed them to. Friends saw them. My best guy friends saw them. I was so proud I might as well have walked around topless shouting to the world, “Hey look at these! Look at how perky they are!!!”

When I went to visit my plastic surgeon for my post surgery check up his response was, “Gorgeous. Just perfect.”


To this day it does not bother me. I have gone into the bathrooms at nightclubs to show complete strangers because after hearing that they want to get one, and I confess I have had one, they promptly want to see if I have any scars and judge my boobs on whether or not they should get one.


So that is how I lost all my modesty at the age of 16. People saw me naked. People saw me throw up on them. People saw me ramble about God-knows-what while on morphine, people saw my breasts with stitches…and when that happens, how can you remain modest?

I loved my Cha Chas after that. Occasionally I would accidentally find myself grabbing them. Even to this day sometimes my trainer has to nudge me while at the gym because I forget I am feeling myself up in public.

Sometimes people ask me if it was worth it. Yes it was horrifically painful, more pain then I have ever felt. (I glossed over the pain part because hello, blog has been depressing lately). Yes I had scars. (Though they are so so faded now that you have to get real real real close to see them. How close? Well put it this way, if you are not my boyfriend you probably won’t notice. In fact one boyfriend never did...not very attentive that one)

So when anyone wonders, why I like my body so much and why I am not modest in the least about being naked, I always tell them, “Well my dad’s college roommate saw me naked, I figure everything else is just gravy.”

Besides, I have ten thousand dollar boobs and how many women can say that?!?!

Wait, I live in SoCal..so I guess a lot huh?

The "Block" is a Deadly Thing

The past few days I have had an uncharacteristic case of Writer’s Block. It does not happen often but it does happen sometimes. I usually sit and wait it out, take a break from writing and whatnot. But, my newfound promise to myself to write 1-2 hours a day NO MATTER WHAT has made it impossible for me to wait out this BLOCK.

So I aimed to consult the experts.

One expert that comes to mind, as always, is one of my personal heroes, Ray Bradbury. I have taken much of his advice on writing to heart, including his main rule of, “If you want to be a writer, then write.” I have seen him speak a few times and always forget to ask him this important question. What do you do when you are blocked for ideas?

Michael Stipe once got very very blocked. So he traveled and during this album, where he was so blocked, they ended up recording it in a few different places because of his blockage. However, as always, and maybe because of the traveling and seeing new places, he got rid of it. BUT I am not traveling anytime in the next month so....there goes that solution.

So the next personal writing hero…Kevin Smith. Kevin’s style, though not liked by some, is an inspiration to me. Not only can he write amazing dialogue but also he never never never stops writing. When he is not writing a movie, he is writing a book. When he not writing a book he is updating his blog. He blogs all the time. He writes all the time and not once have I ever seen him take much of a break. I did not get to personally ask him the question of what he does when he has writers block. However, on a DVD of his he addresses this subject.
In short, Kevin said he has never had much of a problem with writer’s block and when he does he just “rubs one out” and it is over.

So is that what I am supposed to do?

Is the answer to many writers’ frustrations simply to “rub one out”?

I can’t imagine myself in a meeting with my future boss when he asks me how my “front page feature” is coming along (This is my fantasy I get front page) and I answer,

“Well boss, I am kind of stuck right now. I am going to go to the bathroom with my Jack Rabbit vibrator here and I will see what I can come up with.”

Yeah I can imagine that solution might not be worker appropriate.

So I ask all of you out there, and those of you that are writers…how do you get rid of “The Block.”

Enlighten me.

Make Sure You Act Like a Kid Sometimes

As I was taking an early afternoon nap on the sofa I saw the blinds being closed on the floor to ceiling window adjacent to me, blocking out the late afternoon sun.

“Why did you do that”? I said groggily.

“The peeping Toms are back” was the answer.

I was being protected.

And who were these Peeping Toms that spent their afternoon taking pictures of me through a window?

Two Thirteen-Year-Old boys. Two young boys who take pictures of the apartment as well as heckle girls down on the street while humping the air. Classy. It is hard to believe such young kids can be so perverted. What happened to the days when young boys spent their time with legos and star wars figures? These kids spend their days dry humping a balcony gate while invading others' private time.

On Sunday, during the day, before our evening concert, the day was spent at Sea World.

I got to see Shamu and the Polar Bears. I got to feed the dolphins and get wet on water rides. I felt like a kid again.

Marine animals are another thing I am obsessed with (take a look at my 100 things post and you will see one number about Orcas).

As I watched these animals I loved and adored I got to thinking about my own childhood.

I was one of the lucky children. I had a childhood filled with hope and beauty and love. I got to have my innocence for as long as possible and now, as an adult, I cherish spending days reliving that childhood where everything seemed magnificent.

As the day came to an end, and we walked out of the park carrying multiple bags full of goodies I got to thinking about my peeping toms.

I was not angry or upset. I just felt sorry for them. Because, where is their childhood?

When they are all grown up with women problems are they going to look back at their childhood and love every memory of it? Or will they be in therapy discussing how their women troubles began when they were young boys who took pictures of women while they slept?

I know I am not a kid anymore. But, it is nice to know if I ever need it...Shamu is just a car ride away.

The Apple May Fall Far From The Tree...

But...the the seeds are still the same

They say the apple never falls far from the tree. I always disagreed with that statement because I don’t look like most people in my family (except a few features here and there) and I have always considered myself the oddball black sheep that everyone looks at and thinks, “Did that girl come from my blood”?

I have always been the girl who never identified with my families great business skills, mathematical ability and the natural inclination to never get into any trouble. My parents are both successful business people and what everyone loves about me at my job is “my personality and smile.” My mom does my taxes and I cannot even grasp the idea of Quicken. My father is even keel and calm and I have enough energy to illuminate New York for a week. Don’t get me wrong; I happen to think I will be very successful as well. But, my strengths are nothing like my families’ strengths.

However, at certain times I have been shown some evidence that, while I may be the oddball in the family, there are some traits they did pass on to me.

The evidence

So, how did I get so interested in the body?

When I walked into my grandmothers house a couple of weeks ago I was greeted by my very beautiful grandmother who then proceeded to lift up her dress.

“Look at these glutes sweetie! Can you believe how tight they are for a woman turning 70!”?

“Wow Grandma, yeah you have a great body”

“I know,” she said still holding her dress up, showing her black lacy underwear, “Come on feel them, and I don’t even have cellulite”!



And my obsession with shopping?

Text message received by Mother on the day of the Nordstrom sale:

“Hi sweetie. I am running to the Nordies sale. Do you want me to pick you up any Hanky Panky Panties? I am not going to get much, probably just the one D&B bag.”

Five Hours Later

“Hi sweetie, I got four pairs of shoes and three handbags in honor of Nala.”

I text message back: “Ummmm, I thought Dad gave you a budget”?

She writes back: “He did. But, I am emotional.”



My openness to talk about butts, boobs, and penises anywhere and everywhere?

I am standing in my parents kitchen when my dad says, “Ya know I think Boris (my pug) has a penis complex.”

“HUH”?

“Well I feel bad for the guy, he has a small penis.”

I am sitting with my eight-year-old cousin watching a Britney Spears DVD.

“Rachel, look at that,” she says, “I can see her nipple”!



My obsession with reading?

All four walls of my parents three-car garage is lined floor to ceiling with books. I have three bookshelves in my apartment of books and four more at my parents’ house of books that would not fit here.



My love for music?

I walk into my parents house to the sounds of Creedance Cleerwater playing loudly in the background. My father is in the kitchen and I am not sure which I can hear louder…the CD or my father putting food in the microwave and singing at the top of his lungs, “Dowwwwnnnn onn the Cornerrrrrrr”

Don’t even get me started about when he sings “Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds.”

Every single time I visit my brother he hands me a stack of about 10 CDs and all he says is, “Here listen to these.”



So maybe my apple did fall far from the tree…but they at least passed on some of the flavor. Maybe I am not adopted after all.

So what traits and/or interests do you all think have been passed down to you from your family?

Take Off The Mask and Show Me You

On Saturday my very cute outfit was topped off with my very very cute and very sexy Juicy Couture Newsboy hat. When I wear that hat (as is the same when I wear my Burberry hat) I feel like a Queen Bee. I feel even more confident and sexy than I already think I am.

The hat is my black feather (Dumbo reference for those of you that forget such good movies). I can fly when I wear my hat.

As we are walking, or should I say sauntering, to the various bars we were going to I was told that a couple of them were very hard to get in to.

“We might have to wait a bit Rach.”

“Oh no problem," I shrug off.

We get to On Broadway, a huge huge nightclub built in an old bank. It has seven dance floors including a soundproof dance floor in the old vault.

A line had formed outside.

As we walk up I jump over the rope, cut in line and head toward the bouncer.

I flash a smile at the bouncer and he smiles back.

“Would you like to come inside?” he asks.

Since when do bouncers invite?

“Yeah me and him” I reply.

Wow, I thought to myself. That is four clubs I did not have to wait in line at tonight! It is the hat! My hat is lucky.

We made our way down the stairs and into the vault room where we settled on some sofas to take in our surroundings.

“Rachel, you know you could get any guy you want right”?

“No I cannot” I reply.

“I am just being honest”

“Since when are you the authority?” I know I can’t get just any guy. “I look like crap in the morning, trust me. I just clean up well,” I say trying to keep the conversation light.

Because, I know I am not perfect. We covered that illusion. I know I have my "faults" and I know I am no model or even the next Bill Gates.

But then I got to thinking…

Is it really the tight jeans and the hat that makes me bypass lines, receive heartwarming compliments, and all the love I have?

What if I was to just stand there completely bare? No hat. No makeup. Hair a mess. No clothing. Nothing but me and all of me. Would I still get it all?

We wear “masks” to become something else. A perfect example of this is Jim Carrey in the movie, The Mask. We have personas and we have roles we play. We feel confident in a certain outfit. We feel sexy in another. We feel powerful in our business suits and we feel successful in another. Baseball players have lucky socks they don't wash. And even Presidents and politicial people wear the "red tie."

But what if we strip it all away? What if I show all of me? Am I still that girl? Can we be so lucky even without our lucky charm?

It might come as a surprise but I don’t let people see all of me easily. It takes a lot of trust to let somebody in to see all of who I am. But those that have seen it, love me...so why the mask?

“You really think I can get any guy I want”?

“You’re the package that is for sure.”

So maybe it is what is under the mask that makes us special. We don’t need special jeans or lucky hats or any rabbit’s feet. Dumbo was able to fly without the feather.

His belief in himself made it so.

It was then that I realized that who I am is enough to get exactly what I want.

“I think I am rather drunk” I smile.

And then, I let myself just be.

Nordstroms, Nudity and Guys

“Hey where are you? Why is it so noisy”?

“I am at THE Nordies sale, remember”?

I have my ear-piece in and I am talking on the phone as I make my way through the crowded aisles full of very aggressive women spending more money than they do in an entire year while their husbands, boyfriends and fathers read the newspaper and groan at the café upstairs.

Yes I am talking about the Anniversary Sale, a National Holiday in my neck of the woods. The ladies line up at 6:00 a.m just so they can be the first to grab the heavily discounted fall lines before they either a) sells out (which the hot items often do on the first day) or b) before the prices go up in two weeks.

This sale is the only sale where NEW clothes go on sale first. It is all new. It is all wanted. And, it turns normally dignified women into raging loonies.

“Rach..hellooo..you still there”?

“Yeah I am still here. It is nuts”!

“I almost forgot you and that sale thing. Hey do they have men’s clothes too”?

“Of course they do!” I say with excitement. “It is all very hot, hot, hot”!

“Well do they have any of those shirts, ya’ know, that I wear”?

Well isn’t that typical guy speak. That is like asking someone if they have that movie. You know? That movie? That movie with the guy in it? Seriously.

“What shirts? Which ones? You have a lot of shirts.”

“Ya’ know with the thing. The thing on the front of it.” He replies.

See what I mean?

If this were a woman she would be telling me the brand, the size, the date of manufacture and what shoes she might have that go with it. But no, this is a guy and all I get is, “the thing.”

Hearing my laughter he responds, “Well it’s like a lizard.”

“You mean an alligator”?

“Yes YES. That’s the one. Can you see if they have those”?

“It is called Lacoste, dumby, and I will see what I can find.”

I hang up the phone and head over to the mens section. It is far less crowded and no one seems to be fighting.

I look to the right towards the women’s handbags and notice two women arguing over the last brown suede Coach bag.

I let out a sigh and wonder…

Men don’t give a shit what we wear. They only care what is underneath what we wear. So I have to wonder who women are really dressing up for? Is it for ourselves? Is it for other women, like a competition? No guy I have ever known or been with has given two flying hoots whether my jeans are Frankie B or Frankie Generic. Now gather, men seem to be progressing toward dressing in finer clothes (even if they have no idea what it is called) But, the obsession is still very much one sided.

I head over to the jewelry section, eyeing the diamonds and pearls and ponder the thought… Is it worth all the fuss? Is it worth all the time and energy?

Then I spot it.

Beautiful Pave diamond necklace. Fit for only a princess. The facets of the diamonds twinkle and my eyes light up.

Someone once said that the most sexy a women could look is naked wearing nothing but diamonds. Well that is fashion too.

So is it worth it?

I look around and notice everyone smiling.

Yeah, I think I’ll stick around.

100 Things About Me

In an effort to feel better I have decided to be a total narcissist. What is it about lists that are fun? Ahh well, not to question it I will just go with it. The idea was taken from my dear friend Nigel so with that I give you 100 things you probably never knew and did not want to know about me. Enjoy and maybe give me some tidbits about you. I love when people share ;)

1. I have watched all six seasons of Sex in the City on DVD so much that my DVDs are almost ruined.
2. I have a Jade Charm I keep in my pocket at all times and whenever I touch it I say something out loud that I am grateful for.
3. I am one of those rare girls that really likes her ass
4. When I was a toddler my mom used to put me and my brother in a bath together to save time (she was a working women) but that promptly stopped once she overheard me saying to him, “What is that? Does it grow?”
5. I have read The Count of Monte Cristo a total of seven times. It is 1200 pages long.
6. I have had major surgery once in my life when I was 16 years old.
7. I have broken my left wrist twice. I loved my purple cast because I thought it was cool.
8. I won my first writing award in the fourth grade for a very long, run on story about a girl named Danielle who runs away to the beach
9. I have studied metaphysics and the Kama sutra extensively. Both are not what people think they are
10. My uncle is only 7 years older than me and grew up more like my brother than an uncle. However, he still cringes if I so much as mention even kissing a guy.
11. My first portable music device was a Walkman called “My First Sony.” I would fall asleep at night listening to Billy Joel and The Beatles.
12. I have had to be rescued by a lifeguard three times. I had to be given oxygen once.
13. Much to my brothers embarrassment I used to take my cabbage patch kids to the mall in the special designer cabbage patch kid stroller.
14. The carpet does not match the curtains because I got rid of the carpet.
15. My first case of puppy love is now on The Real World and whenever I watch it I am amazed how much my tastes have changed since high school.
16. I have lived with one guy and I learned from that that guys don’t like to clean their hair out of the shower.
17. My senior year of high school I was voted Worst Driver, Best Photographer, and was second place for Best Eyes.
18. When I was five I lied and told my neighbors that I was a princess and got to go to Disneyland every weekend. I expected them to believe me.
19. I have a “face” I use when asking for something I want. This usually only works on dads, boyfriends, and guy friends. My mom has yet to fall for it.
20. I can read people’s subconscious motives and hidden depths very easily.
21. I always over pack. A girl has to have options.
22. I love lingerie. I LOVE lingerie.
23. I own about 400 DVDs. I own about 1500 albums.
24. I almost was not able to walk at my high school graduation because out of 50 seniors who did the senior prank, I was the only one the cops where able to chase down.
25. I dance in my panties in my living room whenever I get alone time.
26. I get very into celebrity gossip and am very skeptical that Tom and Katie had a baby. (Just read about the new birth certificate drama)
27. I am scuba certified but have not been diving in a few years.
28. I am not that innocent. But, I sure look it.
29. Everything I used to hate about myself I now love (my height, my temperment, etc.)
30. I read poetry, philosophy and cheesy chick lit.
31. I went to Mexico four times without my parents ever knowing. They thought I was camping.
32. I once drove to Vegas by myself. It took me 8 hours because as luck would have it (or not have it) I ran across a plane crash, witnessed a horrible car accident (where I had to help the guy out of the car and give a report to the police) and got stuck in the middle of the desert for two hours with nowhere to go because a car a mile ahead caught on fire.
33. When I was a baby everyone thought I looked like Pebbles Flintstone because my mom would pile my hair on top of my head with a clip.
34. I had a “boyfriend” in preschool that I played “doctor” with. He is now a baseball player and my mom and his mom still talk.
35. My kindergarten boyfriend is now also a baseball player
36. I once got lost in South Central Los Angeles in my mothers car at 5:00 in the morning.
37. I am addicted to shopping. I love shopping. I study the history of designers. Did you know Coach bags history lies in baseball?
38. I can get judgmental on people’s bodies (including mine)
39. I have very very ugly feet. 20 years of dancing and now running have taken its toll. When someone said to me, “Rach I bet they are not that bad,” he then looked at them and said, “Oh, you are right.” There are scars and cuts all over the place.
40. I got a tattoo on my butt when I was 16 and everyone found out about it except my mother who did not actually accidentally see it until I was 23.
41. I love Cosabella and Hanky Panky panties. Both are divine.
42. I know a lot more about things than people think I know.
43. I can remember conversations word for word that I have with people…even many years later.
44. I think three of the most amazing love songs are “You Are the Everything” by REM, “In My Life,” by The Beatles, and “God Only Knows” by The Beach Boys.
45. I already know what my wedding dress looks like.
46. I have been told I am both addicting and impossible. Sometimes both at the same time.
47. I once wanted to be a magician. As well as the following: an astronaut, a professional dancer, an actress, a PR rep, a writer, a Pilates instructor and photographer. Dancing stuck for 20 years. I sucked at acting. I found out magicians have horrible lives. I found out astronauts have to know science it is not only about flying. Writing and photography stuck. Pilates I am starting now.
48. I once adopted a whale: It was an Orca.
49. I love Neil Gaimen; most people are surprised about that.
50. There are two guys that I have met for only one minute each, in passing, that still remain etched in my memory very very vividly.
51. My sister in law thinks the only two things my brother and I have in common is our love for music and our ability to piss people off.
52. Until recently I was horribly naïve.
53. I silently fear success just as much as I do failure.
54. Cops let me and a bunch of people have a tailgate party at the Irvine REM show because I flirted with them and let them join the party.
55. One day I want a Yorkie named Demitri and a German Shepard named Brando
56. My parents don’t mind if I don’t marry as a Jewish guy as long as “he makes me happy and we have passion.”
57. I study music history incessantly.
58. I really like really raunchy jokes (i.e. anything that comes out of Kevin Smith’s mouth)
59. My ex boyfriend once stood on stairs blocking a rock star from getting to my room.
60. At times during the day the only thing on my mind is what guys usually have on their mind.
61. I will write a book, it will be called “Life and How to Live it” (those of you who got that reference are special)
62. I love eating peanut butter and peanuts. Peanut butter is extra crunchy. Peanuts are always planter’s honey roasted. I can eat an entire thing of peanuts.
63. When I was three I cracked my head open when I collided with a sliding glass door.
64. I drink diet cokes until they are half full and then put them back in the fridge. Right now there are 7 half full diet cokes in my fridge that I might not ever drink. However, I feel as if I am wasting money if I throw them away.
65. Every single REM album is used for a specific emotion I am feeling at a given time. Right now, it is Automatic for the People that is played whenever I feel sad.
66. My best girlfriends nickname for me is “Snatchy.” This is a name that has evolved. It started as Rach. Then moved on to Rach n Snatch. Then became Snatchy. It is not in reference to my private girly area, however, it does get some looks when they yell it in a crowded place.
67. I believe, and will always believe, that love conquers all. Love is all you need.
68. I have a fear of negative emotions and crawl into a hole when I feel them because I fear people don’t like to see that side of me.
69. I loved Pirates of the Caribbean so much that the first time I saw it I went out and bought a black pearl ring.
70. I once played Thumbalina as well as Hodel (Fiddler on the Roof) in a school play.
71. I want to have three children. I plan on being a hot mom.
72. I am 75% Russian and 25% Scottish. My Scottish heritage was Masons descending from King James.
73. I am a Scorpio.
74. I once went Bungee Jumping in Las Vegas.
75. I once burned my brother’s hand with a curling iron in purpose.
76. I got the chicken pox when I was 2 months old and had a total of 19 pox on my entire body.
77. To this day, I am not sure my father has ever said no to me.
78. I am only 4’11” and yet sources tell me I hog the bed completely.
79. I believe in magic and mysticism.
80. I am named after my Grandma Rose and my Grandma Hazel (Great Grandmas). And, I have four given names. Rachel Heather Shoshanna Hannah.
81. I love giving gifts. I also love receiving them. I am a great receiver.
82. An old old man once told me I was a “woman who runs with the wolves.” I am still not sure what he exactly meant.
83. My greatest gift, as well as my greatest curse is that I understand human behavior very well.
84. My favorite flowers are orange roses, not red.
85. I silently judge people based on the music they listen to. I have never dated a guy where I did not like their taste in music.
86. I got very very sick for a year when I was 13.
87. I have a hard time making eye contact until I know someone well enough to trust him or her.
88. I am a total pack rat. I collect everything. I have enough stuff to take up, not only my apartment but also two bedrooms of my parents house and a storage unit.
89. If I want something bad enough, I get it. If I want something to work bad enough, I make it work.
90. I have yet to figure out the true meaning of the poem Kubla Khan. I will accept help on this though I believe one might have to be high on Opium to find the true meaning.
91. I have a very overactive libido.
92. I am going to live in New York.
93. It took me a long time to finally realize I am worth it. However, I now know I am worth everything.
94. My Pug, Boris masturbates. He does it in front of people. Everyone talks about it. People have imitated it. He also grunts while he does it. He has no shame
95. I base my life around baseball and concerts.
96. I can quote Ace Ventura, Mall Rats, Shawshank Redemption, Love Actually, Bull Durham, Batman, Rent, The Lion King, As Good as it Gets, Spaceballs, When Harry Met Sally and Nightmare Before Christmas all by heart.
97. I have a big big big heart but hide it from those I don’t trust. I don’t trust easily, but trust completly when I do...and if I lose it then it takes moving mountains to get it back,
98. I have the natural ability to make people feel comfortable around me and share everything.
99. Depending on the day I am either very very very active or lazy. Rarely am I anything in between.
100. My coffee of choice is a Vanilla Latte Breve

The Diva Takes the Stage One Last Time

I had made plans to spend a “girl weekend” with my best friend who moved to Minnesota about two years ago. I bought my plane ticket long ago and since Nala had come home I decided not to postpone this short weekend trip we had been looking forward to. Besides, I would only be gone for the weekend so I knew if anything were to turn the other way in Nala’s favor it surly would not happen until I had come back home.

Thursday night I went to my parent’s house to spend some time with her. She seemed perky and had been eating. I was nervous to leave her but I knew I would only be gone for a couple of days.

Maybe Nala just wanted to come home for a day to say goodbye to my other animals. Maybe she just wanted one more day of normalcy. Maybe she carried with her the great meaning of life and had to pass it on to her younger disciples before she departed. Maybe, in her true diva fashion, she just had to go on her own terms.

I arrived in Minnesota and from the moment I got off the plane we started a party. We had a Guster concert with The Fray at this outdoor festival followed by many more drinks at the bars.

I was two shits to the wind when I think the phone calls started. And then the text messages. Maybe, I am just good at denial…but I did not want to know. I shut my phone off. I shut it off because isn’t it better not to know anything? I thought they were lying. I hung up on them before they could even say a word. Because, if it was not told to me then it did not happen…except it did..I just did not listen.

I knew the next day.

It was too late to do anything. She had been fine all day and then at a drop of a hat she declined so rapidly that there was nothing they could do.

Nala was a fighter, but I think her body just did not want to fight anymore.

I have not talked about it with anyone. I can’t yet. I am so afraid that if I start talking about it and see the looks on the faces on my friends, family and loved ones I will lose it.

I have seen those looks before. Sympathy. Compassion. Hugs and kisses and a shoulder to cry on. I am eternally thankful for that. Except I am not ready to cry yet.

My father picked me up from the airport tonight and asked me, “Do you want to talk about Nala.”

“No” was all I said.

I changed the subject.

I wasn’t ready.

I know death is a part of life. We lose loved ones all the time whether they are animals or people. I have watched Lion King (obviously hence Nala’s name) and know all about “the great circle of life.”

I know death is also new beginnings.

I know when we get pets or even chose to love another person that the time with them will eventually end.

I know all this.

It just does not make it any easier.

So, it is here that I bid farewell to my first doggie that loved me half of my life. She never listened to me or followed rules and she was a total spoiled brat...but loved unconditionally. She lived a very good 12 years and I will always love her.

Rest in Peace my Diva.

:)

Nala is home!!!

She is not out of the woods yet and still has to have her treatment but she keeps on imporving :)

I will be away from the computer all weekend.

Have a great weekend everyone, thanks again for the good vibes and here is praying and hoping things continue to improve

:)

Dogs Act Like Their Owners

This is Nala today, looking perkier. The bottom half of her body is shaved but you can't see it in this pic and that thing on her leg is where ther mainline IV thingy is. But...she is smiling :)

First off I want to thank everyone who sent well wishes and good vibes my way! The good news is it seems to be working! Nala, as of a few hours ago has turned a corner and, while we are not out of the woods yet, it is looking promising. So thank you all for the praying, sending good vibes, and well wishes cause he made me feel a whole lot better.

She has stopped bleeding internally for the most part and has not needed a blood transfusion in over 24 hours which means she is making new blood on her own. She is on a lot of treatment medications. Her immune system, because of an autoimune infection thingy, was causing her bone marrow to attack her blood and bleed internally but as of today, she seems to be making progress. We might even get to take her home tomorrow! THAT is nothing short of a miracle, being that she was near death just a couple of days ago.

As I walked into the hospital today for my visit, I was greeted by a very stressed out receptionist.

“Yeah 10 emergencies already today, we are swamped here”!

“I am just here to visit Nala” I assured her.

“Oh, Nala! We love Nala. She is the best dog ever. She really is such a well trained dog”!

HUH? Wait…HUH?

Did I just hear that right? If I had been drinking something I would have spit it out. Now don’t get me wrong, I love Nala (obviously), but best dog ever is not a category I would put her in. Nala is totally demanding and spoiled and hits you and barks at you if you don’t do what she wants. She won’t sit anywhere except shotgun in the car and puts up a fight every time we try to get her outside. I am not complaining cause I love her that way. I am just stating that, contrary to what the receptionist said, she is not well trained. After all I raised her so what more could you expect? LOL.

“She must be behaving for you guys, cause she knows you are trying to save her” I smile back.

After a wait I headed into the visiting room and shortly thereafter GVM walks in with Nala, who still has to walk with a sling.

“Here is your girl” he said and brought her to a blanket to get her settled.

“I hear Nala is getting rather popular back there”? I asked.

“Oh yeah, she is great. All she wants to do is love and she is so sweet.”

I let out of a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” GVM asked.

“I am laughing because you all say she is so compliant and sweet and nice, when I can see right through her. GVM, she is flirting with you so you give her extra special attention”!

He gave Nala and pet on the head and laughed a little bit. Nala looked up at him and tilted her head coyly.

“Now what is so funny”? I asked him.

He gets up from Nala and headed toward the door.

“Well,” he replied, “They say dogs learn most of their unique personality traits from their owners…”

He laughed again.

And with that, he left the room.

Wait, was he talking about me?

I bent down and sat down with Nala. She looked up and me and then lay her head down to nap. I sat there for a half hour petting her and wishing her improvements would continue. They said the medications and treatments had started to work and there was cause for big hope.

I looked at my dog, and realized that yes she IS just like me. Demanding and spoiled. She is expensive (I swear we probably just paid for all those Vet’s new plasmas) and flirts just so she can get special attention from the doctors. But, hey no one seems to complain about me so why should I expect anything else from those around her?

“You really are my dog huh”? I said to her while laughing. “I have taught you well, everyone loves you Nala.”

I would not have Nala any other way. And, because of some miracle, she might just get to remain my dog for quite some time.

Dogs Hate Hospitals Just as Much as We Do

Thank you all for the warm and well-wishing comments, they mean a lot to me. Keeping sending those good vibes!

I walked into the hospital today to visit my baby. They are still running diagnostics, trying to figure out what it could be causing the internal bleeding. Right now it can be one of four things and about two of those things, she will live and the other two….well..ya know.

Meanwhile they are giving her blood transfusions to keep her alive but she is still very weak and is unable to move much.

So I went in to visit with her, and at that time she was being given her blood transfusion of the day so they took me to the back room. I walked in and she immediately perked her head up and while her usual tail wagging and barking were absent I could tell she was happy to see me. I started crying once I saw all the tubes and needles in her but tried to remain calm despite that. I knelt down and started petting her just as an alarm started sounding.

An unbelievable, gorgeous, model looking man knelt down beside me while shutting off the alarm.

“Sorry about that,” he said, “We have to take her temperature every 10 minutes during the transfusion to make sure she is not having a reaction.

“That’s ok” I replied as I rubbed Nala’s now shaved belly.

As Gorgeous Vet took her temp, Nala gave him a LOOK, as if to say “Honey I don’t care how gorgeous you are, first you give me the bikini waxes of all bikini waxes and now you are shoving things up my ass…I am a lady and this is uncalled for.”

I kept petting Nala to comfort her but chuckled at the expression on her face, almost as if she was embarrassed.

“How has she been today”? I asked GVM (Gorgeous Vet Man)

“She is weak but she ate a bit, she has been very tired but far less than yesterday.”

I start crying once more...and of course when I am emotional I start pouring my heart out to complete strangers.

“Just please save her ok? I am not ready to let her go, I am really not ready. I can’t take this so just please do whatever you have to do. Money is no issue. Even if she has to be in the hospital for a while, as long as you save her. My other dogs are really confused. She is like their mother. Sugar would not even take a treat today because Nala always gets one first. And, I have had Nala since I was 12 so just save her ok”

GVM put his hand on my shoulder. Now guys are automatically sexier when a girl sees them being all lovey with animals or babies so you could imagine how incredibly sexy GVM looked.

“There is still hope. Hang on to your hope ok”? He said compassionately.

"Man, I don't know how you guys do it, working here."

"It is tough sometimes, but it is worth it" replied.

I had been petting Nala this whole time, knowing that since she is a typical Princess she hates it if you stop petting her. However, I stopped at that moment to get a tissue from my purse to wipe away my tears.

As I was doing so Nala took her paw and hit me. I smiled. That’s my Nala.

“You see that GVM!! She hit me! She always does that when I stop petting her! Maybe it means she is feeling a bit better! Yesterday she didn’t even move when I stopped petting her and today she hit me!”

“Rachel, we will find out the results tomorrow or the next day. But, yes that is a good sign, and the fact that she perked her head up is a good sign too, keep your hope alive,” he smiled a warm smile.

He got up to tend to another dog, and I sat with Nala for another half hour or so. She fell asleep so I gave her a kiss and told her I would see her tomorrow.

I waved bye to all the amazing people working to save my dog. I felt like I was in a special animal version of the TV show House, with GVM and team working against time to try to figure out some rare illness my dog has.

But the patient always gets saved at the end of the show…so I know there is reason to keep my hope alive.

Besides, she hit me, which means she was pissed. And, I could have sworn she was flirting with GVM. When us girls get pissed and flirt, it can only mean one thing…

We are alive.

Dogs Are People Too

The eldest of my three dogs, Nala, is very sick. They have yet to figure out what is wrong and she has been at the hospital since yesterday morning. I sat with her yesterday when I went to visit her and she actually took her paw and put it in my hand. So, of course, I started balling in front of everyone as the Vet told me the prognosis is "not good."

She got transfered to a specialty animal hospital, the best in Orange County so they could run some advanceddiagnostics. She has a lot of internal bleeding but if it is from a bacterial or viral infection they might be able to save her.

Otherwise we have to put her to sleep.

So....


Please give my baby some good vibes today. We need a miracle people!

For all you dog owners I know you understand. For those that are not, our dogs are like people too, they have personalities and they know how to love so being that I have had Nala more than half of my life...I am a complete mess.

Sorry to kill the cheery vibes here, I am just a mess.

Good Vibes to Nala !!!!!

Here is Hoping for a Miracle