I have never had a more complicated moving-going experience than the one I had last night.

(I promise this has VERY little to do with the movie itself)

I’ll admit that I go a little crazy pants when it comes to the Twilight Saga. No, I don’t don Team Edward shirts or cry/scream when ANYTHING New Moon appears. But I did buy a ticket to the midnight showing of it. I figure it lessens my chances of running into anyone I know – however, I don’t know anyone here so I probably would have been safe. Anyway!

So I drive to the theater not knowing that it’s in a giant mall. I find the mall’s parking garage, but some how got turned around. Instead of exiting by the kiosks, I find a stairwell that leads me down into a back alley. Smart Jenn. The door, of course, only opens from the inside. So I’m wandering down this back alley thinking about how this would make a funny episode of Criminal Minds when I see cars passing ahead. Convinced that’s where I want to be, I run.

Turns out there’s a theater in front of me. Great! I give the woman my card since I ordered my tickets online and she tells me that I did no such thing. Uh, pretty sure I did because I remember drawing a big red circle around the date on my calendar after buying them. Ugh I’m such a dork. So she tells me that there is ANOTHER theater across the street in the mall. Are you kidding me? Who puts TWO theaters on the same street with only a block between them and similar names?!

So I wander over to that theater, which is impossible to find. You wouldn’t think a 10 theater building would be so hard to find, but it is. I walk behind a large group giving any potential attacker the illusion that I roll with a posse. Idiot. They’re all talking another language and I can’t even eavesdrop during our long walk.

I finally find the theater. The obnoxiously long line out the door gave it away. I channel all the patience in the world and get in line. They herd us along like cattle and point us to the theater, which is already packed by the way. I’m pretty sure people were here at 9 pm. Being a single viewer it was easy for me to find a seat. Take that world!

Of course I picked the seat next to the two most ungrateful girls in the world. They were discussing their trip to France and Venice and actually COMPLAINING about it! What? Was the food not French enough? Oh you couldn’t find your Versache scarf? I’m so sorry. Shut up! Don’t ruin my movie going experience with your stupid banter.

The movie starts. People scream. I roll my eyes. WHY AM I AT A MIDNIGHT SHOWING OF THIS MOVIE?! Just when I start enjoying myself I remember that I have absolutely NO idea where my car is. At 2 a.m. I will be wandering the streets of LA searching for this parking garage. I try to follow a big group out in hopes they parked in the garage, but everyone decided that it would be a GREAT idea to stand in the lobby and chit chat about the ending. NOTE: If you read the book, this should NOT be a surprise to you AT ALL. Man up.

I manage to find the garage, which looks like an eff’in hotel, and find myself in the aisle I parked my car. Except not. It turns out that the ENTIRE floor is labeled 2A. GREAT. So I walk around with my keys waiting to hear my horn honking.

Obviously I made it home. I am not blogging on location. It was an incredibly frustrating night and I’m surprised that I remember seeing the movie. In the future, I will not be going to that theater at night. No way man.

Moral: I should have bought that $2.99 parking app from iTunes. Damnit.

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Last night I officially decided that I am going through my quarter-life crisis. It’s the only explanation for the major freak out I’m dealing with. Of course this warrants some soul searching and being a blogger, well, I began exploring blogs. I came across Kim’s post and I definitely stole her idea. So thanks Kim. You definitely brought my freak out down from a level 6 to a level 3.

Jobs I Could Not Have

1) A Judge (or juror). I’m easily swayed. I watch those law shows where the defense gives you their side and then the prosecution gives their side and before it ends, you have to decide if he’s guilty or not. I’m always like he did it! Then the next side will speak and I’ll be like it was the grandmother! Moral of the story: Don’t put anyone’s life in my hands.

2) Preschool teacher. Kids have sticky hands. They drool, poop and scream. I lack the patience and immune system to handle that.

3) Librarian. I love books. I love the smell of books. I love seeing shelves and shelves full of books. I love hearing people flip through pages. I do not, however, love being quiet. I have a very hard time speaking with an indoor voice sometimes – especially when I find something funny.

4) Professional Poker Player. You DID read my Vegas story, right?

5) Technology Recycler. I just watched an episode of Dirty Jobs where Mike was working in an electronic recycling facility. At first I’d be game. Mocking the technology that froze up on me would be great. But then I’d find myself trying to sneak out TVs, hard drives and cell phones. It wouldn’t be good.

Speaking of technology, don’t forget about the HP Pavilion dm3 giveaway!

Keep tweeting, blogging and commenting!

I was thinking about all of your screennames yesterday. Some are really hilarious. Some of you have been using the same one for 10 years, which baffles me. I have username ADD. That got me wondering if any of you name your laptop/computer.

I named my very first Macbook, Pancake.

Now you go. Did you name it? Would you name it?

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I don’t normally have big news to break via my blog, but today, that’s all going to change. By reading this post you’re on your way to winning a FREE HP Pavilion dm3 laptop. (Do I have your attention?)

OH MAN!

I don’t do a ton of giveaways on Free and Flawed, but I knew that holding out for something awesome would pay off. HP is giving me one thin and light HP dm3 to give away to one of my spiffy readers. Yep, Christmas is coming early folks. Just call me Santa Jenn. Ho, ho, ho!

What You Need To Know

- HP dm3 is 1-inch thin and 4.5 lbs. Your shoulders will be happy!
- Features like snap, pin, shake and peak (sounds like a weird dance) in Windows 7 make day-to-day tasks a breeze.
- Conference goers rejoice! The HP dm3 boasts 10 hours of battery life (TEN!) Thank the mega awesome power management system, which tells YOUR brand-spankin’ new HP to run fewer background activities, dim the screen and turn off unused ports. Phew!

I’ve been taking a walk down memory lane and thought about my very first computer: A giant mammoth of a monitor and a super slow processor. Remembering my dinosaur got me thinking about the HOURS I would spend on AOL chatting it up with complete strangers in hope one would turn out to be my soul mate (thanks for the false hope Meg Ryan!)

Naturally I blamed my screenname for that.

What You Need To Do

You have to share something embarrassing with me. I want to know what your first screenname was.

My Top Three:
1) Newbie: jennco02 (jenn class of ‘02 – unfortunately people thought my name was jennco.)
2) Conceited: angelickisses (don’t judge me.)
3) My emo phase: noturstar (you can thank Dashboard Confessional and Something Corporate for that one)

There, if I can share so can you.

But Wait! There’s More!

If you think you could use some extra luck, share this giveaway with friends. TWEET about it, BLOG about it, SCREAM it from the rooftop. Each tweet/blog post = another chance to WIN.

If my blog generates the most comments, tweets, posts, etc. out of nine others, I will receive another dm3 of my very own, which I will also give away. That’s a possibility of TWO laptops and TWO happy readers.

How to enter: (You can do ONE or ALL of the following)
1. Leave a comment with your most embarrassing screenname. If you weren’t a chatter, use a blog name!
2. Tweet about it and ask your friends to tweet too! Leave a separate comment linking back to your tweet every time you do and I’ll count each of those entries.
3. Write a blog post about a) what you would do with a new computer, b) how technology has changed your life OR c) share more embarrassing details from your AOL days (be sure to link to this giveaway & comment with a link to your blog post.)

Don’t forget to wish Peter a very happy birthday!

I will stop collecting entries on Tuesday, November 24th

It looks like Alexa is also giving away a laptop! You are some lucky blog readers!

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Over the summer I was invited to a Born To Fit party sponsored by Brand About Town and The Gap. I have the hardest time finding jeans because apparently I’m an awkward size. I’m too short for the big girl jeans, but too curvy for the juniors. Woe is me! I was excited to attend in hopes of finding the perfect pair of jeans. Unfortunately, I didn’t, but my sad face turned into a happy one when I was given a chance to go back to the Gap and pick out a pair of jeans that fit (perfectly) and walk out with them (for free.)

I’ve been putting this off to avoid the disappointment. I have yet to find a pair of jeans that I absolutely love that didn’t have to be hemmed or tailored. Inspired by Erini’s post I decided to put on my big girl panties and go to the Gap.

At first I was disappointed because no one was asking if I needed help, when I obviously did. I didn’t understand their sizes and I probably looked like I was solving math equations in my head instead of buying jeans. Eventually I was greeted by a wonderful saleswoman who piled up the jeans and stayed outside my fitting room the entire time, making sure I a) didn’t look like an idiot and b) was happy. I left with two pairs.

First I went after an Always Skinny jean. I know. I’m a trend follower. But I assure you they’re not glued onto my legs and/or ass. I was worried, but they’re surprisingly comfortable. The best part: I don’t have to have them hemmed AND they’ll go with a really cute pair of flats I have.

Then I had to balance out the skinny jean purchase with a comfier jean: the Sexy Boot. I was happy when I found these because the color is perfect for work or play and they don’t have to be hemmed! They’ll work with flats or a wedge. Oh happy day!

I used the money I saved, thanks to Brand About Town, on a cute pair of flats and a cozy sweater. It’s safe to say that I’ll be checking the Gap in the future, but I’ll definitely be watching for sales!

P.S. It is impossible to take a flattering fitting room photo.

Where’s your favorite place to find a pair of comfortable (and affordable) jeans that don’t have to be altered (does that place even exist?!)

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I’m not a big fan of those carts in the middle of the mall. You know the kind. They’re always selling some type of weird flying helicopter, massage product or hand/hair product that’s going to make your life ten times more amazing than what it is. I try to avoid them just as I avoid those people on the street (listen, I can’t afford to save the trees, children, polar bears and ozone layer okay?)

Anyway, normally I avoid them, but today I’m going to help them out a bit by sharing some advice. If you’re going to hire someone to be the most hated salesperson in the entire mall, make sure they speak English.

I’m wandering around this mall that must have been built to confuse Chicagoans when I notice I’m in between two sales people and their carts. Oh crap! Okay… breathe. Maybe they didn’t notice you. Frack! They did. So as I prepare to be attacked and fought over like a gazelle in the lion’s den, I find comfort in the fact that I mentally checked out yesterday. All I hear is lalalalala. The conversation ensues:

Sales Guy: Hello (awkward pause) Question?
Me: (Is he asking if I have one or if he can ask one?) Yeaaaaaah?
Sales Guy: Give me your hand. (Pretty sure I’ve seen Lifetime movies & CSI episodes that started off like this)
Me: (Confident that I have my pepper spray I rely on my humor to save my life) In marriage? No thanks.
Sales Guy: Can see hand?
Me: My hand? Uh, why?
Sales Guy: I can help. You can test.
Me: Uh… what? (So I show him my jazz hands because they’re beautiful)
Sales Guy: Test?

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but think about the confused look on the poor guy’s face. I’m not sure which one of us was more confused actually. Did I just provide some in-mall hand porn for a stranger with a fetish? I don’t think either of us knew what he was trying to sell. Sorry guy! Maybe try something along the lines of restocking shelves or customer service.

P.S. This is for department stores. I realize that the holidays are on everyone’s mind right now, but I hope you do know that the constant stream of Christmas music will only make me hate Christmas and your store by the time December gets here. Seriously. I will be knocking down your Christmas trees by December 24th. Fear my jazz hands!

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Song I’m currently loving: Across The Universe | The Beatles/Rufus Wainwright

P.S. Is that little girl Dakota Fanning? I think so. Too cute!

What’s in your playlist today?

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I wonder at what point will I realize that I am now living in Los Angeles. The 30+ hour 2,000 mile drive didn’t give it away.

You’d think that the palm trees would give it away. Nope.

Passing movie studios, such as Raleigh and Paramount, on my way to work would be a solid clue, too. But nope.

Seeing people lying by the pool in November – hell, the fact that I have a pool should drive the point home.

Reading celeb gossip and seeing that Gwen Stefani and her family ate breakfast at the cafe I was at yesterday should probably give it away. But no.

Or, you know, there’s that whole address thing. I’ve been handing out the new address left and right, but still it hasn’t hit me.

It’s as if I’m just spending a week or two here for work, like before, except that all of my stuff and my cats are here too. You’d think after seeing my apartment I’d realize I live here.

Nope.

Maybe someone just needs to follow me around with a sign that reads “You ARE in Los Angeles!” And if that someone happens to be a handsome aspiring actor who strangely shares features with Johnny Depp, well, so be it.

* You know what WILL make me realize I’m in Los Angeles? An earthquake. However, I’m not ready to handle the ground shaking beneath me so feel free to postpone the next ‘quake until I leave. Thanks. Now about that sign…

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It seems like just when I feel comfortable going through a security check at the airport they change the rules on me and make me feel less like an expert and more like a novice traveler. I may as well be standing there in my undies like this guy.

Credit

I’ve flown a lot over the summer and I like to think that I am well prepared when it comes to going through security lines. I have my liquids in a baggie and out for inspection. My shoes, belt, jacket/sweater are off. My laptop is out of its bag and in a separate bin. Boarding pass in hand. I’m ready to go!

Some airports just like to screw with people I think. At one I can leave my carry-on on the belt and not in a bin, but at others they want me to put it in a bin. At one I can put my shoes in a bin and at another they want my shoes directly on the belt.

Stop changing the rules TSA! It messes with my head and it makes me a less confident person. Seriously. You can see the confidence leave me as I pass through the metal detector. It’s bad enough I’m walking barefoot through an airport. I have enough anxiety just trying to get out of O’Hare LAX on time. On top of that I’m an assumed criminal/bomb specialist with smelly feet who doesn’t know how to go through a security line.

You’re paying my therapy bills.

What do you hate most about traveling?

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Reward: Super awesome posts that (1) make your belly hurt from laughter (2) Inspire you and (3) Make you ask, “what the #@&!?”

Could you imagine if blogs had season finales just like TV shows?

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I don’t have a green thumb. I know very little about keeping a plant alive. Some how I’ve gotten lucky and just like that goldfish I won from the carnival, these plants just won’t die. I stick them in the truck of my car for 30+ hours and they’re still thriving. I credit the California sun.

I could never go on house swap or swapping places or any of those TLC/HGTV shows that involve decorating someone else’s home. I’d be the idiot who pairs polka-dotted wall paper with striped art.

So imagine my surprise when I pulled out my inner Ty Pennington and transformed my new apartment into a home of awesomeness. From room dividers and matching wood to accent candles and art. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Where am I?

Two of my favorite additions are my postcard hangers and my, as I so lovingly dubbed it, “remember this sh*t” wall.

Many thanks to Rachel and Erin for this awesome gift!

This was an idea I stole from The Personal Organizing Workbook. I love this book. It’s full of ideas to minimize the clutter in your purse, drawers, and life. The clipboards are on the first wall I see when I walk in. Eventually the clipboards will have more to them, but right now my calendar is all I need.

I’m still waiting for my couch though. The Great Couch Debacle of ‘09 has been tiring, but I have a feeling it will be here this week. Now if only I could get it in a non-broken state, then I’d be one semi-happy LA transplant. I’ll share more pictures of the new place soon!

How did you spend your weekend? Let me live vicariously through you. I promise that my box fort wasn’t as fun as you might think.

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