About a month ago, a bright and shiny new Pinkberry shop opened up on St. Mark’s, a Hipstered-out street that’s only a few blocks from where I work. The first time I tried the mystery confection, I wasn’t sold. It kinda tastes like cold yogurt, I thought. Cold yogurt…but not.

But the second time, after eating an entire medium cup filled with the “original” flavor (don’t call it vanilla, they get oddly pissed) and a few scoops of fruit, I thought, it kinda tastes like cold yogurt. Cold yogurt…but better!

Since then, I’ve been a regular customer at this low fat, low calorie chain. So regular, in fact, that I actually felt sad when the New York Times recently confirmed my suspicious that things which seem too good to be true — are.

Seems that even though Pinkberry totes itself as all natural, it really, really isn’t.

“The list [of ingrediants] includes at least five additives defined by the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization as emulsifiers (propylene glycol esters, lactoglycerides, sodium acid pyrophosphate, mono- and diglycerides); four acidifiers (magnesium oxide, calcium fumarate, citric acid, sodium citrate); tocopherol, a natural preservative; and two ingredients — starch and maltodextrin — that were characterized as fillers by Dr. Gary A. Reineccius, a professor in the department of food science and nutrition at the University of Minnesota and an expert in food additives.”

Damn you, Pinkberry! Damn you for letting me think I was eating a natural, low calorie snack when what I was really doing was stuffing myself with low calorie chemicals that will most likely cause my liver to shrivel and heart to explode in like 8 years.

Why didn’t you just stay in LA?!

Dear Blackberry,

I have been sooooo busy; I totally haven’t been able to write to you until now! Like I’ve even been too busy for Benji and I totally love him. Not like I love you or Tink or myself. Or all of my mirrors. And my car. And my reflection in store windows. But I love him. Screw all of those other guys. This is for real. You know how I know it’s for real?

Because I get to go on tour with his band. He knows that music is my life. I bet he’ll want me to sing with them soon and then they’d be even more famouser! He totally gets me.

Did I tell you that he takes me to all of these made-up places? South Africa – you never heard of it either, right? Like West Africa is a real country, but South? Also, he can wear my hats. That means that when I play dress up with my doggies he’ll fit right in. It’s so totally perfect. Read More »

Just in time for the second episode the newest season of The Hills, I was presented with the opportunity to kick back and chat it up with Lo via my cellular.

Um, obviously I couldn’t wait to take that phone call. I watch and obsess about the show enough to pretend those girls are my homies – especially the fantastic and now more frequent member, Lo. If I got her on the phone I could get all the gossip and maybe convince her to invite me out to L.A. for some Pinkberry and bonding time.

Unfortunately, I didn’t woo Lo into becoming my BFF, but I did get some insight into life in front of the camera, her life with Lauren and the reality (or not so much so) of The Hills.

How do you feel about the way you are portrayed on the show? Is that the real Lo?
“I’m pretty confident on how I’m portrayed on the show. Sometimes they go a little too far with the comments I make but I am a good friend to Lauren and I think that they show that well and I bring some comedy to the show. I am an honest person and like that in real life. I’m honest but I’m fun.” Read More »

Deflowering a virgin is something that guys think about…and they usually think about it in one of two ways: they either are dying to do it because they love the idea of being a girl’s “first” OR they’re terrified of it because they can’t emotionally throw down and they don’t think it’d be fair to rob a girl of her innocence without being able to give her foot massages and take her out on dates.

However, when I deflowered my first and only (or so I hope to be my first and only) virgin; I wasn’t thinking about either one of these things. Because I didn’t know he was a virgin. I had just met him.

Here’s what I DID know:

-He was bangin’ hot.
-He was a few years younger than me. However, he was 19 and legal.
-He was shy around me and I thought it was cute.
-He was willing to drive two hours to meet up with me the day after he met me.
-He still lived with his parents.
-He worked at Jamba Juice.

Here’s what I found out during the act:

-He was afraid of giving oral. I taught him how. (In my defense; I believed that there was a possibility he could have been inexperienced with oral, but still experienced with intercourse.)

-He had no idea how to take charge in sex. (Yawn. I hate that.)

Here’s what happened after the act: Read More »

I am feeling sick. Hungover sick. The sad part? I only had two beers and a shot last night. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. But I am.

I spent all day yesterday looking forward to midnight. I got all dolled up and went downtown to a show–which was so pretentious buzz indie rock that I was suffocating soberly in a room filled with drunken hipsters. At midnight, some gentleman friends of mine took me to a bar for a drink.

A cold, fizzy beer thrilled my lips more than any part of any male has probably ever done. I finished the beer and it was time to move on to another bar down the street. And everyone there was SO HIP. No, I don’t mean to sound like a sarcastic b*tch, but I just loathe walking into any place where people stare me down because they’re trying to figure out WHO I am. It’s so L.A. and I wish that kind of stuff would just stay in L.A.

After waiting for the bartender to attend to my off the wagon needs for twenty minutes…I was really starting to wonder what all of the fuss was about. All of that ridiculous waiting while the sad looking hippie girl, who undoubtedly thought she was the one who invented dangling earrings, was elbowing me in the boob…it all seemed a little silly for a simple PBR. Read More »

I’ve got a good group of guy friends here in LA that I grew up with. Having friends from home alongside me in such a huge city is amazing. These guys are literally like family. I consider them brothers and if, for whatever reason, I had to call them and ask them to pick me up somewhere an hour away and to bring cash with them…they would do it in an instant and they would do it at any hour, too. Our bond is solid.

I have watched them go through girls the same way that they have watched me go through guys. I make it clear to any guy that I date that they need to respect these guys and treat them the same way they would treat my own brother if I were introducing them to him. For the most part, the guys that I have dated have totally understood this and everything on this frontier has gone rather smoothly. But the girls that my dudes date aren’t always understanding. Read More »

Two old women from L.A. apparently had a really unusual, really twisted idea of how to fund their retirement (and, as it turns out, youth-preserving plastic surgery): Murder homeless men.

Here’s how it would go. They would befriend some poor homeless guy, put him up in an apartment, and get him to sign a life insurance policy listing them as the beneficiaries. After waiting a couple of years (as an immediate death would raise the insurance company’s suspicions), they would drug him senseless, run him over with a car that — presumably — would not be traced back to them, and claim the payouts.

Helen Golay and Olga Rutterschmidt evidently did exactly this in 1999, and got away with it. Then they did it again in 2005 and got caught. Even weirder — both women are in their 70s! These are serial-killing grannies we’re talking about!

Serial-killing grannies with expensive habits, evidently: A letter from Helen to Olga talks about Helen’s plastic surgery (at age 72!) and how painful it was. Since this letter was written in 2002, it was probably the first man’s murder that paid for said plastic surgery. Morbid to think about it, isn’t it? Read More »

Very often Los Angeles ends up being this glamorized, tourist version of glitz that all gets summed up into: Hollywood Blvd, Universal Studios, Grauman’s Chinese Theater and Walk of Fame. All of which are great, and must’s, if you haven’t even been…but beyond the celebrity centered attractions, L.A. is full of exciting spots that are often overlooked.

Some of the best food in Los Angeles, though not in the guide books, are still celebrity packed (if you’re into that sort of thing) so, even though it may look unassuming, don’t forget to bring your camera.

Best Mexican Food- Casa Vega, located on the other side of “the hill” also known as “the valley” is the number one BEST burrito machine, ever. Huge portions, flavored margaritas, dim lighting so the stars can eat peace and friendly mariachi. This is a must, make sure to visit with an empty belly. Read More »