August 25, 2007

From the wedding ...

We were all the way up in the mountains, in the middle of nowhere - the weather was perfect - just a little breeze, which kept blowing my cousin Elizabeth's veil in this right-out-of-the-movies-no-seriously-where's-the-film-crew way.  She looked gorgeous.

I teared up when she came walking down with my uncle towards the groom ... I think my dad teared up too.  Then again, he teared up when we watched Father of the Bride when I was 20. (Dad: "Well, Steve Martin makes me cry in all his movies!" followed by laughter)

Lots of deep talks with The Parents (little brother is studying for a major physics test at MIT, so I got them to myself), some about my own future wedding.  Of the many things co-decided: It will be glamorous, probably held in Cathedral Hall at the University Club in Chicago, I will wear my mother's wedding dress (altered to be more poofy.  I like poofy.), and avalanches of cupcakes will be served IMMEDIATELY upon arrival.  I hate having to wait to eat the damn wedding cake - why save the best part for last???  I want my guests on a total sugar buzz when I'm walking down that aisle.  Oh and also?  Grooms are so last year.

With the bride.

In Denver This Weekend

Flying to Denver for my cousin Elizabeth's wedding in approximately, uh, three hours (at 6 am). Have. Not. Packed. Yet.  Crap?

I don't have a fantastic excuse for this, except that tonight I dropped off Lilly at a friend's apartment in Brooklyn, and spent the evening hanging out there.  Then I decided to take my sweet time getting home on the subway and disembark at Grand St, which isn't remotely close to where I live, just so I could walk for a bit.  It was gorgeous, and I had great music on my pink iPod and no one I had to answer to or "check in with" ... and the incredible novelty of that (8 months after the demise of my last serious relationship, I'm still marveling at the concept of total freedom) meant that all I kept thinking as I saw couples hand-in-hand was "Thank GOD I'm single and I can do whatever the hell I want whenever the hell I want and I don't have to be on a mind-numbing 'date night' or 'movie night' or 'hang out with his stupid friends night' right now."  I almost floated home, the thought made me so happy.  (Perfect attitude for going to a wedding, right?  hahaha) Insert contented sigh here. 


August 05, 2007

Lazy(ish) Sunday

Spent the morning with my Grandmother ... and the afternoon debating in the kitchen with my parents about the following topics:

1) Immigration (Dad's against it, Mom thinks everyone who has a job should be able to stay here, I tend to agree with Mom, because I don't see immigrant-citizen employment as a zero-sum game.)

2) Health care (continuation of yesterday's non-debate.  I'm still vehemently in favor of universal health care and my parents are still vehemently skeptical of Michael Moore.)

3) My alleged excess of opinions (My dad doesn't feel I have the right to have them because I "haven't been paying taxes long enough.")

I transcribed part of #3:

Julia: Wait, so why am I not allowed to have opinions again?

Dad: They're irritating, and by the transitive property, you're irritating.

Julia: And that's relevant because ... ??

Dad: Okay, let's be a little more analytical and candid about what is it that irritates me about you so much.  It's not so much the content of your opinions - some of which I actually agree with.

Julia: So why do you want to disagree with me so badly?

Dad: It's the assuredness and certitude and manner in which you say things that immediately drives me nuts.  I think A) who the hell is she and B) she doesn't know this and C) even if she's not wrong, she sounds wrong!  She should be wrong!

This reaction is not new, but I think maybe it's accentuated by the fact that you get paid to be on tv shows in which your whole job is to come up with opinions which are concisely but argumentatively stated - and the more colorfully, and in some instances stridently, you espouse that view, the better for your role.  Comparable to that is that a lot of lawyers get into argumentative habits and then apply that across the board.

Plus you have a loud voice.

Julia: So do you!

Dad: But I'm your father so I get to have a loud voice.

Julia: Are you kidding??

Mom: Who wants a cupcake??

August 04, 2007

In Chicago, staying very, very in tonight

There's nothing like going to an animated movie about a small gourmet rat on a Saturday night in the suburbs WITH YOUR PARENTS to calm one down after a long week.  It was so very wholesome.  Aww.  Now we're back, the puppies have been walked, my mom's in bed (uh, it's 10:30 pm, of course she's in bed!) and my dad's reading the Wall St. Journal at the kitchen table across from me. I keep trying to discuss Michael Moore's movie Sicko (which I saw two weeks ago), and the urgent need for universal health care, but he's not having it. He voted for Bush. He hates Michael Moore. Now he's giving me some stupid line about how he doesn't want his taxes increased, and I'm telling him that it's not about spending MORE money, it's about spending it smarter, and maybe, oh, you know, not spending it on killing people! He's saying I have too many opinions, and I'm reminding him that I get paid to have opinions, albeit not really on politics. He's laughing, and heading up to bed (now it's 11 pm) and telling me not to leave the lights on.

Aw, Quality. Family. Time. I could stand to do this more often.

Good Morning Lake Michigan!

My dad picked me up at the airport this morning (5:45 am!  he's such a trooper), and when I walked in the house, I took the puppies right outside to the beach for a long walk.  It was stunning ... I have to say, I prefer Lake Michigan to Malibu any day.

In Chicago on the Beach with the Puppies from Julia Allison and Vimeo.

August 03, 2007


At my grandparents' house in LA.  About to hop on a redeye to Chicago for some Quality. Structured. Family. Time. with my parents (My father Speaks in Capitals. Very. Slowly. And. Deliberately. As If It's Possible. You. Just. Might. Be. Retarded.  I blame myself.)

More later.


Got to LAX only to realize that I had been distracted when booking my ticket, and mistakenly clicked on August 17th instead of August 3rd ... after finding absolutely no record of my reservation, I somehow convinced the plane lady to just put me on standby for the redeye.  The power of looking legitimately forlorn should never be underestimated.

Julia flies from LAX to ORD from Julia Allison and Vimeo.

July 22, 2007

The Origins of that Infamous(ish) Horse Photo

I just "discovered" (and by discovered I mean someone told me about it) a video uploading/sharing site that 1) doesn't deeply confuse me 2) doesn't assault me visually and 3) will still allow me to squander loads of time I should be spending, uh, reading celebrity magazines.

It's called Vimeo, and visually & style-wise, it is to YouTube as Facebook to MySpace.  Cleaner design, less trash, you don't feel dirty afterwards.  Anyway.  It's my flavor of the month, although I suppose we'll see if it has the staying power to keep my attention (Flickr didn't).

In the meantime, appreciate the precursor video to the infamous(ish) shot above, which I've oh-so-helpfully entitled "Horse, Beach, Bikini," from last December in the Dominican Republic.  Thanks to my cameraman/photographer/ex, who never gets a photo credit for the damn thing.  I'd give him one right here and now, but he's not currently speaking to me.  Sigh.

June 22, 2007

Milan. And Lake Como.

Occasionally I think to myself "I do not, in any way, deserve my life."  (You may think this constantly.  I don't entirely blame you.)  This is one of those times.  I'm going to Milan, very short notice, will be back Tuesday.  I plan to do things like, breathe (see yesterday's stress related post).  Also, sleep.  And, eat.  In conclusion, in no way do I plan to work like I did in St. Lucia.  So, Fun.  Good times.  See ya next week.

Update: by Milan, of course, I meant Lake Como.  ;)

June 08, 2007

Back from St. Lucia

At LeSport, a Sunswept Resort in St. Lucia.  (We stayed at Cotton Bay most of the time, however)

No bikini shots here!  Because I'm classy now.  Also, someone's gained a little weight, which I think could perhaps stem from a diet mainly consisting of french fries and Milky Ways, while continuing to live in the deep denial that confuses "paying for a gym membership while remaining more or less unclear as to said gym's location" as "exercise."  (No, seriously.  Once I actually tried to go there - 2nd time since LAST AUGUST, and after walking around for a while, I couldn't find it, so I gave up and got a mid-afternoon sugar snack at Whole Foods instead).  Other activities rounding out my daily physical fitness routine: "trudging to corner deli for the purpose of purchasing very large, very moist, very chocolate chip cookies" and "getting out of bed."  Sigh.

At Rendezvous, another St. Lucian resort, although one I wouldn't recommend, due to their incredibly offensive and backward stance on gay couples (they won't let them stay there).  Bizarre.

June 03, 2007

In St. Lucia until Thursday

I leave for the airport in less than two hours and I haven't started packing yet.  Nothing like a little procrastination to get a vacation started right.


April 21, 2007

In DC this weekend

Me, circa 2004, Supreme Court style.  Holla, etc.

Anyway, the S.C. really doesn't have anything to do with the rest of this post, it just happened to be the first DC-esque photo I ran across.  Right.  So ... tomorrow I'll be down in Washington covering the White House Correspondent's Dinner for the Huffington Post.  I've been trying to go to this damn dinner since 2000.  Only took me seven years, but who's counting?

Unfortunately, I'm setting my expectations for a scandal-filled weekend rather low.  After last year's Stephen Colbert fiasco, the freaked-out organizers hired Rich Little, someone so old-school, so non-confrontational, so absolutely inoffensive, so practically dead that nothing truly amusing could happen, with the possible exception of him forgetting that the current President isn't Roosevelt.  Then again, Karl Rove could always jump around like a gimpy squirrel on crack.  Nothing better than lame-duck season in a non-election year.