Hi there, stranger.

You guys, people are so good. I kinda always knew that, but sometimes I have reasons to doubt, you know? Like the neighbor who continues to report me for locking my bike up in the parking garage, the people who continuously send me facebook game requests, and the woman in line in front of me at Starbucks wearing Luis Vuitton printed jeans. But overall, people are cool.

A couple of weeks ago, I lost my purse at a bar in Venice. Whatever, it’s fine. Shit happens. I carry absolutely zero cash and I doubt my debit card would even support a round of tequila shots for the lucky individual that found it so I wasn’t entirely concerned. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world, except also in my purse were my car keys, all forms of identification, and the most perfect matte shade of oxblood lipstick. Still not entirely the end of the world, except they were my spare set of keys because I already lost the first set at the turtle races. I was carrying my passport because my driver’s license was expired, the replacement was somewhere on the floor of The Hudson, and I hadn’t made it to the DMV since it’s disappearance in October. And there is no way in hell I’m able to justify spending $24 on a Nars Lip Crayon twice. So there I was, without transportation, identification, and with pale lips. Ugh.

It was probably pure denial, but I never cancelled the cards or replaced anything. I guess I figured that once whoever had it realized oxblood is a really hard lip color to pull off they’d return it to me. My name and home address are on my ID and I’m not really that hard to track down.  But after I refreshed my facebook messages 89435679205 times, I started to freak. Then laziness took over and I decided to wait it out and think good thoughts. That’s when my sister sent me a photo on what is now one of the greatest days of my whole life, second to hanging backstage at an O-Town concert in 2001. She sent me a photo of a handwritten note, addressed to me from a man who had found my purse, listed everything inside, and was looking for a local address to return it. Seriously. A guy found it. Wrote a letter to the address on my driver’s license. And wanted to return all of my belongings. I shit my pants.

After contacting this guy, we arranged a time to meet. While nothing could quite compare to giving me my whole life back in the form of a cheap H&M envelope clutch, this guy decided a drink on a Friday night would suffice. While I am now more than ever convinced people are generally pretty cool, I’m also a freak. So naturally I wrote down everything I knew about him in a note entitled In Case I Am Murdered. I assigned friends times to call me to ensure I was still alive. And I only put 30 minutes in my meter for a quick getaway. What? This person knows my home address, for goodness sake! And for all I know he’s a serial killer who stalked me, stole my purse, contacted my family and was setting me up this whole time. I think I watch too many crime shows. But you guys, after meeting this sweet man, who based on his handwritten note is obviously too old to be facebook savvy, I could not have felt more like an asshole for being so paranoid. Seriously. He drank white wine. He read my palm. He thanked me for our paths having crossed. I just can’t even. You’re welcome for being a hot mess, sir. It was my pleasure. Anytime.

Obviously I wanted to tell you all about it. So I thought, Oh heyyy I have a blog where I can post embarrassing things like this to share with the world. I do? Yeah, I guess I do. Man, it really has been that long. But I mean, I talk to my mom nearly every day so she pretty much knows what I’ve been up to. But in the off chance you’re reading this and you’re not my mom (Hey, Grandma!! Can’t wait to see you at Easter.), I’ll fill you in on things as of lately.

For starters, I got an iPhone. And I haven’t even lost it, or broken it, or anything like that. I didn’t do it by choice. My friend Alex told me he wouldn’t hire me until I had a reliable phone, and contrary to popular belief I actually enjoy working. And it kinda panned out for me, this whole having a phone that actually works thing. I styled my first credited, solo shoot with the sexiest Russian actor who doesn’t speak English or know my name but kissed me on the mouth so obviously that means we’re in love and I’m moving to Russia. So what if the movie is in Russian. I’m sure it’ll be available with subtitles. Snoop Dogg has a cameo. I actually worked with him a couple of times. And with these guys for their first single. The song is super catchy. And I assisted on this one. I cruised in boat through the marina, styling a guy in a white Tom Ford tuxedo while he splashed about on a jet ski. Then I dried it with a blow dryer, and put it back on him, which I’m pretty sure is illegal in the wardrobe rule book. You don’t do that to Tom Ford. But he looked great. Like, really great. Then I switched gears and styled some video vixens in “sexy guerrilla warfare” for the Tyga and French Montana song, Thrilla in Manilla, in case you were wondering how versatile I am. I did some work for E! too during award season, typing up what designers the stars were wearing so it could run across the bottom of the screen during the preshow. I guess you could say I like clothes. A lot. But this is Los Angeles, so aside from the entertainment industry, we’re also, like, super trendy and in to fitness. So I got my yoga instructor certification so I can stay current. And once this Lululemon recall is sorted out, I’m sure we’ll be okay. But I’m not going to lie to you, it’s kind of touch and go right now. All work and no play makes Samantha a dull girl, so I did some other stuff too. A couple of my friends got married. And I cried for days at the fact that I’m old and mature enough to have friends who are actually choosing to get married had the privilege of dawning a couple little chiffon numbers and standing up there with them. With the bridal parties came a weekend in Vegas that I probably can’t tell you about, because you know, the rules. A trip to Disneyland. A bridal shower turned roast in Napa. And so much champagne I have a perma-headache. But you guys, don’t worry. I only tripped down the aisle in one of the weddings. So it’s fine. My sister also came down to visit. A couple of times, actually. We went to Jingle Ball and she ran in to people she knew, which made me feel like a super cool big sister. Concerts are fun, so I snuck in to a suite to see the Black Keys. I was legitimately invited to a suite for Muse. And I think I consumed more caffeine than any normal person should, because you know, life. It’s exhausting. But it’s kinda fun too. And it’s nice getting in to a rhythm. So let’s keep this going, yeah? I promise to pick up where I left off so we don't have to do this again. I think we’ve got a pretty good thing going on here.


1 comment: