i could never be a terrorist, i lack dedication.

My mother and I have many interesting conversations while we're at work. They are mostly political and they're mostly debates, not conversations. Today, one of them surrounded the reasoning as to why America, the most powerful nation in the world, has yet to find a certain cave dwelling specimen going by the name of Osama bin Laden (if that is in fact his real name). Her response to this inquiry is my favorite to date:

Lisa Moffett: i think it's b/c they're not like us. they are completely committed to their cause and willing to sacrifice a 'normal' life. i think they truly live in caves and never come out. any of us would be like, 'hey, just this once -- i want to go out to dinner' or whatever.

Doesn't that make sense? I could never be a terrorist because damnit when was the last time we went to Chili's?! I just love the visual image I have of bin Laden and his accomplice sitting in a dark cave in the middle of the desert, tired, battered and starving. "Come on, Osama! Just this once! The McRib is back!"

the little radio that could

Last night I ventured over to Detroit Bar with some friends to check out the residency band for March, BLOK. They were great and I really enjoyed their set, but unfortunately they are not the band that predominantly sticks out in my mind today. The visions I keep replaying in my head are from their opening act, Little Red Radio. This “band” consisted of two “singers” (notice that the quotes denote sarcasm); a girl and a totally fabulous homosexual “rapper” (though I find that to be oxymoronic). In addition there was a drummer, keyboard player and two DJ’s. One actual DJ and the female singer who was scratching her own personal turn table on stage for all to see.

Clad in ripped up tights and some money making hooker shoes, this girl was entertainment for those over the legal age to purchase pornography. I could barely pay attention to anyone else on stage because for some reason she felt the need to continue DJing herself, if you will. Of all the times I’ve been to Detroit I’ve yet to see eccentricity like this. As I stood there tapping my boot and swaying my hips, I didn’t want to show too much enthusiasm in fear that she might mistake my slight movement as an attempt to dance and she would try to join me or perhaps take a whirl on my DJ equipment.

Was it avant garde? Not really but it was an attempt at being. Here’s the problem with bands like this. They are more focused on the oddity they bring to the stage than musical ability. That’s why I like Lady Gaga. Yes, her freak show persona tends to overshadow her actual talent. But strip off the crazy make up, bubble wrap, cigarette adorned sun glasses and possible male reproductive member, she’s a great musician. Unlike her predecessors Madonna or Britt, Gaga made her persona much like Bowie did.

Even though I’m a fan, after watching last night’s performance I’m not sure whether to blame or acknowledge Dame Gaga for her contributions to female artists.

purely painful

Since March has arrived it’s time for me to begin my yearly ritual of preparing for bathing suit season by getting back into shape. Each year there’s a new exercise regiment and diet that lasts about a week until I get lazy and hungry. This year I decided to go with a fairly new and trendy workout called Pure Barre. It’s a combination of yoga, pilates and ballet. Actually, there is no ballet involved whatsoever besides the fact that you hold onto a bar for balance, so that last part is BS and very disappointing. The reason I bought the damn DVD is because I wanted an exercise that involved elements of dance.

Regardless of the false advertisement, it was a great work out. I did it for the first time last night as I begrudgingly put on my exercise appropriate attire, grabbed my yoga mat and put down my Pinot. If you haven’t sensed it from my tone yet, I’m not a big fan of exercise. I used to be in great shape when I was a cheerleader in high school (haha, I know, so funny) but since my high kicking, toe touching days, I just haven’t been as active. I know this is just going to solidify all stereotypes about cheerleading, but I’m not quite what you would call an athlete. I’ve always been a dancer but put a ball in front of me and I’m lost; just ask anyone who’s ever taken PE with me. I enjoy sports from the perspective of the sidelines. But, I will say that cheer is a pretty bad ass sport (or “sport” for those of you who haven’t come to terms with reality). I can’t tell you how many injuries I accrued throughout high school from stunting and I had some serious unlicensed guns . But I digress, back to Pure Barre.

If my thighs could have made an audible sound it would that of a screeching cat that’s stuck in a bathtub with no way out while getting declawed. Ok, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration; I’m not that out of shape. It was probably more like an annoying whimper. Either way, it freaking hurt. My legs were shaking and my ass couldn’t clench anymore regardless of what the bitch on the DVD said. But, all in all it was enjoyable and something I will probably keep up with. Although I feel utterly deceived about the presence of ballet, I’m going to trust that they are telling me the truth about the outcome of my participation. I’m actually elated about this new purchase and look forward to doing it and the new firmer me that will be the result.

and the award goes to... an actual good movie.

The two best parts about The Academy Awards:

1. Dual hosting by two comedic geniuses. Seriously. Who thought of this magnificent, side-splitting idea because I’m authorizing the fact that they deserve a raise. The only drawback was that I didn’t really care so much to watch who won what because I was so enthralled with Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin. In the past decade there have been a slew of great hosts, John Stewart, I even enjoyed last year’s musical extravaganza with host Hugh Jackman, Billy Crystal, and so on and so forth. But, I really feel like this year they got it right and I couldn’t have loved the witty banter between hosts and various celeb attendees more. (And I loved the opening with Neil Patrick Harris, ugh fabulous.) I particularly liked the cracks about Meryl Streep. She's such a good sport and the epitome of glamorous.

2. Avatar DID NOT win Best Picture. I was so fearful that this “film” was going to sweep the Oscars and leave all the actually great nominees in their dust. Was it awe-inspiring visually? Of course. Its innovative technology will pave the way for many of the movies that will come out in the future. But the story was just about as weak as the acting and in no way deserved to receive one of those very coveted statues. Granted I have not yet seen The Hurt Locker, but if I had voting capabilities I would have cast mine for Inglorious Bastards, hands down (shout out to Christopher Waltz; one of the most deserving winners this year. When was the last time you hated a villain so much that simultaneously made you want to piss yourself?). Good for Cameron and crew though because the movie did win in its appropriate categories; Best Art Direction, Cinematography and Visual Effects.

2.5 The Cove won for Best Documentary and my good friend Kathleen has a credit as a Music Assistant. At 23 the girl already has a credit in an Oscar winning film. Impressive doesn’t even cut it.

I realize the list grew from just two things, but whatever I wrote in the parenthesis doesn't count.

loves this too much

i know mustaches are the hipster MO right now, but i don't care. i love them. and i love this picture brought to you from the good people at Urban Outfitters.

happy mustache march. may i meet many of you sporting one during this fine month the lord has made.

illegal jonas lovin

I’m convinced that my emotions have gone haywire. And no, I’m not about to receive that glorious monthly gift, that was very cliché for you to think that. I think being 24 has really started messing with my head. Here is an example:

Last night I watched the new Jerry Seinfeld creation, “The Marriage Ref,” mainly because my girl Tina Fey was on. But also I like Seinfeld and laughing at other people’s problems is always a nice way to end a long day. So with red wine in hand, that’s exactly what I did. Laughed and scoffed at stranger’s marriages and thought to myself that marriage looks like a huge ass ache. It’s not like the show I watched prior, “The Office” where Pam and Jim are blissfully witty and adorable when they argue. No, real marriage is more like when Hulk Hogan met the Undertaker.

That’s all normal, right? This is where it gets weird. I’m finishing my second glass of wine so it’s getting closer to my bed time. I put OnDemand on so that I can fall asleep to 30 Rock. Yes, this is my nightly ritual and I love it. If you're not fortunate enough to be familiar with the OnDemand world, they do these obnoxiously loud and annoying commercials in the right hand corner of the screen about new movies, shows and music. Just as I turned it on there was a commercial featuring one of the Jonas babies and his new music. He belts out the line “I just want to find someone to love me for who I am” and I got chocked up. REALLY ALLISON!?!? You’re such a joke. I know that’s what you must be thinking. I’m not sure if it was his tightly wound curls, prepubescent belting or his 5 minutes of love experience that got me but I’m seriously considering either giving up drinking at night or think I need to drink more.

Should I buy a cat?

let your freak flag fly.

As I’ve already stated in an earlier post, I’m a young single lady living and learning through the foggy lens of the dating world. I take copious mental notes as I watch my friends meet guys, observe my roommates’ relationships with their girlfriends and obviously through my own painful and often entertaining experiences. It’s not that I’m obsessed with love or am the kind of girl who needs to have a boyfriend; it’s just so damn intriguing to me. Through this I’ve learned that one of my biggest pet peeves is when people aren’t honest with each other but more importantly themselves. Women act like men are ass holes who walk around treading all over them for no reason. Here’s a clue ladies, you not only gave them a reason but you allowed it to happen so stop crying (I’m talking to myself here as well).

It’s not hard to figure out that sex is a definitive part of the male/female relationship. Men want it and women know how to use it to get what they want, at least most of the time. But, if not utilized carefully sex can take things away from women and that’s when they blame men the most. Come on chick, you just gave him alllll your junk and you’re expecting him to stick around? For what? Are you going to shoot fireworks out of your ass or squirt beer through your boobs next time? Even if that happened it still wouldn’t matter because he got what he wanted and now he just thinks you’re easy. He may bring you around his friends just for the sheer entertainment of your new found party tricks, but that’s it. So, for all of you clueless women out there that are constantly blaming men for all of your nights spent alone finishing another bottle of wine, read this and learn from it.

It’s really not that hard to understand…

If you want to have sex with a guy the first night you meet you better believe he’s going think you do this all the time and peg you as someone like that. This even applies to making out on certain occasions.

That is the rule. Are there exceptions, yes, but that is the rule.

So if you want to sleep around then have no attachments and no expectations besides an orgasm (and even that can be too much).

But, if you want to find someone who will like you and respect you, don’t sleep with him for a while.

Really simple, right? Then please don’t cry to me about how he doesn’t respect you and how you saw him making out with another girl at the bar. DUH! And please tell me why you’d want to hang out with a guy that slept with you that quickly. If he did it with you then he’s done it that way before and he’ll do it again. If you want to sleep around, be my guest but at least own it and say, “Look at me world! I’m a Samantha!” Yes, that was a Sex and the City reference, got a problem with that?

ray of light.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

Two of my closest friends, Lara and Chelsea, are leaving today for London, Ireland and Scotland. Neither one of them have been to Europe before and are of course, extremely ecstatic that today is finally the day they get to go. I too have never been across the pond or have even left North America before. This now makes me the only person out of my friends and most humans I come in contact with who have never had the privilege to travel. I live in beautiful Southern California where it’s currently 70 degrees and the sun is beating down on me through the sky light in my office. I’m really deprived, aren’t I?

I love where I live, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure the folks in multiple feet of snow on the east coast would trade with me any day. But, I can’t help but feel like all I want is out. There is a great big world out there that I haven’t even seen a speck of. Well, my family and I have driven across country three times and I grew up in New Jersey and did a semester in New York so maybe I’m being a bit melodramatic.

I’m so thankful for what’s been given to me in my life and even for what’s been taken away because it’s all made me who I am today. I’m constantly reminding myself that I live among a very small portion of the national population that have been given certain privileges, such as traveling, that most of the country has not been given. It’s all about perspective (thanks Mom). Things could obviously be much worse than not getting to study abroad in Rome. Come to think of it, I think Haiti is pretty miserable right now so I should probably shut the hell up.

I long for the cobblestone streets that line Rome, to can can in Montmartre and jig in Dublin, admire the architectural design of the ancient Egyptians, sun tan in Thailand and Goa, and enjoy an ice cold Hefeweizen in Munich. Someday I will grab a backpack and begin my nomadic journey. But until then, I will appreciate my 70 degree weather and sun filled sky.

becoming one with the natives.

I absolutely love music. There’s not a moment in my life when there isn’t music in the background. Hell, I can’t even take a shower or a twosey without bringing my iPod and speakers into the bathroom. Work is where I get most of my music research in since I’ve got all day and why would I actually want to get work done?

So this week, thanks to NPR, I’ve been previewing the new Local Natives album, Gorilla Manor. BTW, NPR saves my life daily while I’m at work. If you don’t already, I highly recommend signing up for their Song of the Day and What We’re Reading newsletters. The writing is insightful and progressive. But I’m sure you already knew that.

Anyway, I’m completely enamored by this album. I’m already a big fan of folk music but I was yearning for something new. My Beirut and LCD Soundsystem Pandora stations were starting to repeat themselves a bit. If you like Fleet Foxes there is no doubt you’ll like the Silverlake natives that pour themselves into each song. I particularly enjoy “Shape Shifters.” It’s a bit melodramatic but I dig it from start to finish. His voice vaguely resembles that of the Cold War Kids but you don’t feel like he’s yelling at you.

The problem with folk music is that sometimes you feel as if they’re gently rocking you into a comma. I don’t know when that started since whenever I hear Dylan I feel more like getting in a fight then sleeping, but somewhere down the line folk music became wussy. Take Band of Horses as an example. I love them and listen to the frequently but sometimes I feel like that guy just needs a punch in the balls to see if he still has any. This is not the case with Local Natives. They sing caramely smooth harmonies and keep their manhood at the same time. Plus, with songs like “Camera Talk” that you can move to in more than just a sway motion, it’s also fun to listen to.

The album will be up for free until February 16 on NPR.com.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=123495758#playlist

bitchier is better.

I have a confession to make. At the risk of giving too much of myself away, I must come clean. I am reading a book that I typically would have mocked and ridiculed any girlfriend or female acquaintance for even looking in the same direction as. It’s called Why Men Love Bitches. Ok, get the laughter and judgmental comments out now or stop reading.

Over my college years I prided myself on being somewhat of the feminist persuasion. Not burn my bra, let unsightly armpit and leg hair grow, read everything Margaret Sanger ever wrote kind of feminist. I have just the right amount of feminist fire to extinguished my maternal instincts or need to get married any time soon. I’m also someone who fervently believes that what the sexual revolution did for women was empowering, not derogating. But I digress.

I decided to read this book because if you glanced over my first post about boys, you saw that I’m certainly in need of some sort of guidance through the tough terrain in the vast, apocalyptic world of dating. I dated the same guy on and off for six of the most passionately argumentative years of my life. Since we’ve parted ways I have met countless amounts of boys finding that none of the witty banter and pitchers of Bud Light shared has actually turned into something real (go figure).

And trust me, I’m not alone. I have a handful of gorgeous, intelligent and all around comical friends that are also playing the single game. I can’t tell you how many times one of us has met a guy and then said, “What went wrong?” I, for one, am sick of asking that question, hence why I have called for outside reinforcements. What I’ve found so far? Apparently I’m too nice. Yea, that’s a thing.

To much of my surprise, Why Men Love Bitches has given me great insight about dating and has actually reinforced some of my feminist beliefs. I have to pause and say thank you to the author Sherry Argrov for letting me off the cooking hook. Phew.

Is reading this kind of self-help propaganda a little desperate? Maybe. But if desperate is what it takes to turn a cynic into a dating optimist then I’m okay with that. But, I will always be a realist.

subcontext of up in the air.

Last night I watched the new critically acclaimed Jason Reitman film, “Up in the Air.” I knew that I was going to like this movie because of the directing and acting alone. Plus all the reviews that I read told me I would. (And let me say, this is probably the only movie that I’m completely enamored by George Clooney from beginning to end. can you say jaw structure??) But, I was surprised about how much I enjoyed it and how perfectly poignant I found it to be. It effectively captured the emotions of those that are trying to survive in the cold and mean climate our economy is in. I couldn’t help but get emotional thinking about all those people across the country that are losing their jobs and are 50+. What are they to do now?

I graduated college in May at one of the worst times to possibly graduate. As I was walking across the podium to receive my much deserved and anticipated diploma, I felt like a groundhog that saw their shadow but was stuck because someone just filled my hibernation hole with dirt. I knew I was about to enter a scary world where I would have to compete with people with master’s degrees and others who actually have professional experience.

My dreams of becoming a writer have been put on hold (hence the not-for-profit blogging). My current job is working at an online advertising company that specializes in the debt settlement arena. So my job is to call these poor (literally) people and talk to them about their debt. I get hung up on, cursed at and demoralized. But, I still get a paycheck and that’s all that seems to matter at this point. Would I rather be breaking stories from the front lines in Iraq? Yes. Would I rather be writing for ANY publication that would take me? Of course. Would I rather be pulling out my own hair? Yea. But that won’t earn me any money and I don’t think I can pull off the bald look.

At this point I just need to be thankful for where I am. I can pay my bills, go to Malarky’s on Fridays and consume a few bottles of 2 Buck Chuck a week. So all in all, it’s not too shabby.