YAY: Cake.

And not the band Cake, either. Though I have to admit that "No Phone" still has remarkable "earworm" potential.

ODE TO CAKE
By Amanda Mason

Ode to cake,
The days you make,
Better with carbs,
Negating the barbs

You cancel out my walk,
With sprinkles you talk,
You say, "Life is okay,"
And my diet you sway

But I do not care,
For you're better than flair,
With frosting that smiles,
And chocolate for miles

Birthdays are cool,
For them I'm a fool,
Cause for goodness sake,
THERE WILL ALWAYS BE CAKE!!

NAY: Expense Reports Involving Foreign Transactions

Okay, let's be honest here. (And by "let's," I mean me.) This is kind of a lame NAY. The truth is that (a) I wanted to do a "nay," and (b) I wanted that nay to be "Hillary Clinton's Campaign" since her supporters so pissed me off at the DNC thing on Saturday. But, then I heard that she might concede the nomination tonight, so I thought that was an utterly unclassy thing to do. And I am nothing if not classy. (Shut up, Allison.)

So, here I was without my beloved "nay." What's a bored girl with no willpower to work to do? Look around her desk for inspiration! I realized that I need to do expense reports for my bosses and that some of these involved set visits to Canada ("Boston, California"), where film incentives are high and french fries suck, if a recent e-mail from my boss is to be believed. One would think that with all of the French Canadians, the fries would be off the hizzle. But no. Then again, he's currently in Toronto, not Montreal.

Expense reports involving foreign transactions suck for a myriad of reasons. First, the system my company uses requires the user to convert everything, which means entering the exchange rate. This is a problem because the exchange rate changes every day. (This quote, of course, makes me think of Gabby Hoffman's line from Sleepless in Seattle regarding the price of airfare to New York. "Nobody knows! It changes practically every day!") Then, when I look up the exchange rate for a particular date on the Internet, it never matches up with the transaction amount shown on the credit card statement, forcing me to do convoluted mathematics to determine the correct exchange rate.

The second major problem with these things is that one has to wait on the credit card statement to arrive before processing said foreign expenses. That can lead to a huge delay in reimbursement for airfare, hotel, and overpriced lackluster french fries in the airport. Plus, they add their own little foreign transaction fee, which must be accounted for on the expense report. All in all, just one of these little puppies can take up two hours of my day. That's two hours I could be spending on status reports, answering phones, making sure that every person one of my bosses has ever met with, had lunch with, or spoken to on the phone is in his Outlook Contacts, and periodically checking the Television Without Pity message boards for any updates on the upcoming X-Files movie. (Did I just type that out loud?)

Again, I recognize that this is a lame nay. I promise to exercise more discretion in choosing my topics of bitchiness in the future. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with a Xerox machine and a dozen restaurant receipts. Oh goodie for me.

YAY: The Cellar Restaurant

Truthfully, I almost started this blog off with a "nay." It's probably the cloudy weather just making me cranky, but I couldn't think of anything that I wanted to speak highly of. But
then K reminded me that we're going to lunch at The Cellar with A and M, and I realized I had my YAY.

The first time I heard about The Cellar, I don't know what I thought it was. I knew it was a bar. I knew people from my office in Century City went over there after work on occasion. But I've been there so many times in the past year that I don't remember my initial impression. Did I think it was The Standard? Or The W? Or, even worse, Skybar? (Yes, I am still bitter about being denied entrance three summers ago.) What I do remember, though, is being surprised to find that it was a cozy little hole-in-the wall joint in the high-rise district that I call my work 'hood. They have a patio area with plenty of seating and heat lamps, which is perfect for when you or your companions want to light up. The indoor seating area has a cozy, British pub-style atmosphere, complete with wing-back chairs and old books lining the shelves on the walls. By night, The Cellar has drink specials, which you can enjoy with yummy tortilla chips and runny salsa. By day, replace "drink" with "lunch" and "tortilla chips" with "bread." (This reminds me of another "YAY" I can do on another day: CARBS.)

I guess you could say that The Cellar is my office's own version of Cheers. Sometimes we want to go where everybody knows our names -- and our drink orders. Waitress Extraordinaire Cristina has a mind like a steel trap. Whenever our group shows up, she walks back into the bar area and returns with our drinks -- without ever having to ask what we're having! She. Just. Knows. She knows what happens when I drink tequila and that once I've had one of my drinks (vanilla vodka and Diet Coke), it's time to switch to straight Diet Coke. She knows that K and C will have "the bucket" (of Coors Light). And that Ka likes rum and Diet Coke with a cherry in it. This woman is like a regular Raymond Babbit without the Asperger's. Or the Y chromosome.

Don't take my word for it... Where else can you hear such comments?

• "I don't know what they do to this tuna, but it's the best tuna melt of my life." - M

• "Anyone who lives with (Mandy) has to be easy!" - Cristina

• "May I have a Diet Coke? And a side of your babies?" - K

In summary, if you are one of the minions living in or near Century City, definitely check this place out. It kicks the ass of X-Bar or Pink Taco (yes, that is what it's called). Don't tell them Mandy sent you - they'll cut you off before you even start drinking.

The Cellar is located at 1880 Century Park East in Los Angeles (90067). Phone: (310) 277-1584.