Sephora euphoria

Thanks to a lovely gal pal, we tarried away in cosmetic powerhouse Sephora the week prior for their glamified Express Services gala,where we got dolled up by a platoon of amicable makeup mavens who wielded the expertise and tools to spruce up our mugs with liquified colored paints,were subsequently bequeathed a nifty trove of complimentary goodies for the face and for the stomach,all the while encountering new chummies of admirable talent (Carissa, Michelle, and Steppie) with a similar penchant for the art of blogging and all things artsy. 'Twas such fun to indulge in pampering and chitter chattering! Thanks a bunch, Katie, and Sephora Express Services!Do try out Sephora Express Services if you're residing in the City of Angels! There are 3 additional days to dive into this event: this Saturday, October 3rd, in Century City, this Sunday October 4th, and next Thursday, October 8th, both in Santa Monica. So assemble your gal pals and contact 'em here! Cheers, m'dears!

(Yes, I'm quite aware this is not my first time partaking in the novel era of viral marketing that is blogging, but hey, that's what ensues when you invite bloggers to an event and bestow upon us free stuff. I ain't ashamed. Ahem. Iadorevintagegoodsandcupcakes. Wink.)

Seriously surprised

If you've been gandering at my blog for a while, you'll have perused anecdotes about my bosses, particularly ones involving Boss 1's mind-boggling forgetfulness. 'Cause sometimes, he's just not all there. And this time around, I really couldn't blame him.

Yesterday was Boss 1's birthday.

Boss 1's a pretty snazzy fellow to work for and I fancy commemorating birthdays, so a celebration was in order. I conspired to execute Operation Surprise Shindig in his honor yesterday afternoon. Office-wide email invitation? Sent. Available afternoon block in Boss 1's schedule? Verified thanks to handy dandy Outlook. No spontaneous dinner plans with the family that he'd have to exit early? Confirmed via correspondence with Boss 1's wife. Miscellaneous departmental staff meetings where some would not be able to attend? Negative. Conference room venue available? Yessiree. A slew of tasty treats to feed the imminent mob? Baked the evening beforehand and ordered the morning of.

The clock strikes half past noon and he departs for his lunch meeting (aka birthdayballoo with his buddies at the ritzy country club) with an offhanded "See ya later."

"Have a good lunch!" I chirp in reply at his retreating back. I then made a beeline for my trusty automobile, weaving in and out of congested lunchtime traffic to pick up from several vendors all o'er town an array of fresh-baked cookies, warm fudgy brownies, and a frothy layered cake. The tottering tower of decadent-smelling fresh-baked goodies teased my senses senseless as I lugged 'em to my floor, scampering to furtively arrange said sweets on party platters before Boss 1 returns. I tidied up the conference room. I sent out an email reminder to the rest of the office. All bases were covered. I thought.

The minutes tick-tocked by. No sign of Boss 1. I answered some calls, scheduled some meetings, soothed a frantic Boss 2's nerves about his travel via phone, forwarded some emails, administered some paperwork. Minutes morphed into hours. I futilely cocked my ear for Boss 1's signature gait. Still no sign of him. Dude, a normal lunch does not take 3.5 hours, even for him.

Then the dreaded email popped up, validating my fear: "Helen, my meeting ran late. Email me all calls and messages." Euphemistic code for "My lunchtime huzzah-ing got a tad out of hand and I'm too drunk to make it back to the office in a respectable state."

The surprise was on me.

I laughed really hard as I sent out another email to the entire office in order to postpone the birthday bash. And harder yet when a handful too many executives, in failing to check the email, stormed the conference room in befuddled pandemonium only to confront the celebrant's absence.

All we were counting on was Boss 1's presence.

But all fared well, 'cause we got him good this afternoon. For such a smooth schmoozer renowned for his ability to have clients swoon at the brandishing of his charm, he was a flustered speechless tomato-faced mess in the spotlight of his fanfare. Poor guy.

Jolly grand times.

Post-surprise today:
Boss 1: Oh boy. (shaking head and rubbing his beet-red face) Helen, you are one of a kind. You sure surprised me.
Me: You surprised me first when you didn't come back after lunch yesterday.
Executive 1: And everyone knew you didn't come back to work after your "lunch meeting."
(Uproarious guffawing.)
Boss 1: The surprise was on us both.
Executive 2: So what did Helen say to get you out of your office and in here just now?
Boss 1: She asked me to help her with something. (cracking up) She never asks me for help. That's my line for her. I should have known better!

In honor of Sir Abbot Kinney

"How can anyone resist a place that promotes tote bags?"

Or any of the following, for that matter: charming pastel-hued edifices
and vibrant mosaic-made murals that embody Venice's unabashed bohemian spiritthroughout arterial thoroughfare Abbot Kinneythat yesterday hearkened the 25th annual Abbot Kinney Festival,a people-plagued community affair to commemorate eerthang that is unpretentiously hip and vivacious Venice -environmentally-friendly and health-conscious goods,resounding live tunes for the appreciative ear,creativity divulged in a myriad of forms,bicyclovin'of the endearing vintage variety,savory fresh fare aplenty,a plethora of intriguing characters at whom to oogle,and best of all, a chummy palshowcasing her ever so lovely wares.Perfectly peachy afternoontide with these friendly folks!

Milgram's theory

has been ringing ever so true. 'Tis a small world, indeed. I'm confuddled at the people entering (and exiting) my life of late. God's a funny one, he is.

A round of cheers

to an organic oasis amid the luncheon hour,and another Bruin-infested UCLA Young Alumni hosted shindig at the swankified Life on Wilshire, sans the audacious creepers.On another note, HAPPIEST OF BELATED BIRTHDAYS to you, Soledaddy! We love you,especially your Amy!

A montage of inspiration

strikes on whim whence dilly-dallying around and about the City of Angels, first through quaint age-worn brick-embedded thoroughfares in my former home, thence via irresistibly palatable organic foodie goodies to relish with lovely chummies of the crafty naturebefore bombarding Skirball for an aesthetically wondrous screening of French masterpiece Coco avant Chanel,where the turn-of-the-century costumes, vintage furniture, and illustrious cinematography within the climactic tale of France's most famed mademoiselle (brilliantly portrayed by the enchanting Audrey Tautou) before the unparalleled heights of her career as a world-renowned fashion designer, pulled at me heartstrings. 'Twas a most dandy evening!

A motherload

of highly anticipated televised gems have been returning to primetime of late, amongst them the acclaimed How I Met Your Mother. The consistently side-splitting writing, the cast's unparalleled dynamic, and the glowing presence of acting wonder Neil Patrick Harris guaranteed the sitcom's fifth season premiere a sky-high rank on the awesomeness meter, but I was even more keen on the episode 'cause of the employment of my alma mater as a prominent on-location backdrop, utilized for the launch of Ted's college professorshiparound and about North Campus and within Haines Hall. Oh Haines, how fondly I recall daily dozing off into many a euphoric slumber in your cushy seats to the professor's vapid drone.
Another motherload of hilarity that ne'er fails to add a dash of peachiness to my day - mi madre herself, in this Black Friday-themed video circa 2006:

I love my mother and How I Met Your Mother!

Flea market jackpot

O flea market, how I adore thee, with your sun-baked premises swelling with oodles of time-honored goodies from nostalgic eras pastfrom foreign lands of the whimsical European variety.Time and time again, you capture mine heart with your prolific parade of vintage knick-knacksthat once more, successfully tempted me to snag for my keeping way more than a rustified 1940s bucketful o' linens for a new project. My flea-frenzy left me incapable of snapping any more snapshots. Oh, I cannot wait to showcase my new regiment of antique lovelies!