infinite gratitude

dark moon diary

2011-04-26T22:53:00.000-07:00

God, the dark moon has been a pain in my ass lately! I’m pretty sure it has at least a little something to do with the fact I have my period. I mean, it’s supposed to be a good thing when you menstruate with the dark moon, but in my opinion it’s a bit overwhelming. All that dark moon angst plus PMS equals.... well, it my case, apparently it equals nightmares, because last night I had a bad one. You know the one I’m talking about. The one where your brain somehow gets a hold of every deep, dark fear your soul possesses and then mercilessly combines them all with whatever emotional process you’re having the most difficulty working through, resulting in the type of horrific image that makes you say “Fuck!!! Did that really come out of me?”

Yup, it was a bad one. So bad I had to wake my boyfriend up and even after he had done his ultimate best to calm me down, stroking my hair, telling me it would be okay, checking every room and closet to make sure no one was in them because I thought I heard someone typing on our computer but it turned to just be the cat munching on cat food, I still couldn’t sleep and had to watch a stupid Adam Sandler movie and then talk about what the dream meant for me emotionally.

Seriously, be glad you’re not my boyfriend.

I did eventually manage to fall back asleep. Right around the time that the sun was coming up and my alarm was about to go off anyway, that’s when I finally managed to fall back asleep. But you know what, in the end, it was fine. I’ve always been quick to get really bent out of shape over a nightmare or a creepy image. I’ve always let these things in more than I should. I’ve let them affect me, and my life and the things that I love. But last night before I was falling asleep, I was telling my boyfriend that I wasn’t scared anymore, that my life was beautiful and that I (finally) felt I had nothing to be scared of. And maybe a month ago, I would have had that nightmare and seen it as some cruel trick from some malevolent higher power like, “Haha, you think you’re happy? I’ll show you!”, but this time around I just didn’t feel like it. I mean, I just really didn’t want to believe that that was the case. So, I didn’t.

I woke up this morning (approximately fifteen minutes after I had fallen asleep) and my life wasn’t a nightmare. I was still inside my beautiful apartment, the same apartment that I had just spent the weekend taking pictures and making food and entertaining guests and laying in bed watching movies with the kitties in. I was still healthy and happy and so, so fortunate. And even though it was the dark moon at night, it was still a gorgeous sunny morning.

love always

I'm back....again

2011-04-23T14:45:00.000-07:00

So, you may have noticed that I've been posting here again. Or perhaps you didn't because I oh-so-cleverly changed the date on all of my posts to reflect the date they were actually posted. Allow me to explain.
Remember when I wrote that goodbye post, about how I had outgrown this space and would never post here again, etc, etc? Well, I pulled a Kid Cudi and changed my mind. Having a new and different blog was great, but it wasn't what I thought it would be. I thought it would be a place where I could seamlessly blend my love of food, fashion, travel, astrology, foul language, feminism and bathroom humor into one big, exquisite blog-thing that would be an exact representation of me in my purest form. What actually happened was kind of like what happens when you blend all your paints together or mix all the food on your plate. It became brown and murky and impossible to make out even one tiny detail. More importantly, I learned that I don't want to see a representation of me in my purest form. I don't want to blend all those things together. Frankly, some of those things don't belong together.
So in the interest of keeping the food posts appetizing and the personal posts as raw and honest and well, ok, vulgar as possible, I've decided to separate the two (hence the moving of old posts from that blog, to this one). So here at infinite gratitude you can basically read my diary with some sparkly pictures thrown in for good measure and over at bitter honey you can catch a glimpse of the more civilised aspects of my life (food, culture, etc.). Will the two occasionally intersect? I'm sure of it. But I think there's a boundary. You don't want to talk about menstruation two paragraphs before you talk about phenomenal pizza. I have a burning desire to write about menstruation and pizza, but I don't have to do it in the same place.

I guess in the end it went a little deeper than just blogging. I mean, I have these two kind of divergent aspects of my personality; the foul-mouthed, over-emotional, perpetually teenage feminist and the gentler, more polished, officially-classy-and-cultured adult woman. Having these two sets of qualities exist within the same personality has always been a challenge for me (please see my astrological chart for reference). But I think I may have finally found the answer and it's almost blasphemous in it's simplicity: there truly is a time and place for everything.

love always

what I wore - New York

2011-03-21T10:51:00.000-07:00

For some reason, leather pants always remind me of New York. I bought these pants while living in California, from a company whose warehouse is located a few miles from my job, and I've worn them in California a million more times than I have anywhere else. Still, for some reason, I think of this a quintessential New York outfit. Maybe it's the adolsecent shopping trips I used to take to St. Mark's Place where I would buy all manner of scandalous clothing to wear at my small town high school, inculding, of course, leather pants. In any case, these are the perfect leather pants that I wore in New York on a perfect snowy day, during my perfect vacation in January.

I love Coney Island forever and ever and that is enough

2011-02-27T22:25:00.000-08:00

When I landed in New York, it was barely morning and it was bitter cold, maybe 8 or 9 degrees in the sun. I took a deep breath and prepared to step out of the airport into the most frigid air I had experienced since moving to California over a year ago. Now matter how cold it felt, it wouldn't matter, couldn't matter. I was a girl on a mission. I wanted, no, needed to get to Coney Island that very day, even if it meant freezing my ass off.

You probably think I'm a total freak for this, but oddly enough I wasn't alone. My friends drove up from CT for the sole purpose of visiting Coney Island with me in the dead middle of freezing winter. Not because we thought it would be warm, not because we thought it would be fun, not even because we wanted an excuse to drink four loko on the subway (although we did do that, too.) We visited Coney Island because we needed to pay our respects.
To us, Coney Island is much, much more than a trashy amusement park set on the water on the outskirts of the world's most fabulous city, although even if it were just that, it would still be pretty spectacular. Our connection with Coney Island goes back to the summer of 2007, when it became the setting for a day, perhaps a moment, perhaps the moment of our young lives. I've tried to explain it and I've tried to retell it countless times, but I never quite succeed in conveying the immensity of what occurred that day and why it keeps pulling us back, even on the coldest day of winter. Still, I'll try again.
I can't tell you what was happening for anyone else at that time, but I can tell you what was happening for me, and me, I was heartbroken. And in that heartbreak, the world seemed intensified so that even the smallest everyday occurrences felt unbearable. Work was awful, going out was awful. Fuck, breathing was awful. I woke up in tears nearly every day, devastated to remember that the circumstances that had driven me to such heartbreak were still true. I would stumble downstairs hysterical and my roommates, utterly bewildered and alienated by the intensity of my grief, despite their best efforts to be supportive would look at me in total loss. What could they possibly do for me?
Still, I did not give up. I tried to go out and force myself to have fun on numerous occasions. I even came sort of close a few times, but usually, whatever substance I was using to forget about my grief would turn on me and end up reminding me how bad I wanted to call, wanted to beg, wanted to do all those things you're not supposed to do when nursing a broken heart. That is, until we went to Coney Island.
It was summer, so it was Siren Fest. We Are Scientists and M.I.A.- for free!!!! Seriously, though, that doesn't even matter, because it wasn't the music and it wasn't the crowd, it was just the day. We listened to all the right songs on the way to the train station, faced the exact correct number of calamities to make it feel like an adventure (including taking the subway in the wrong direction and ending up in Harlem), and somehow ended up dancing underneath a roller coaster while sipping Jack Daniels through a straw on the most gorgeous of gorgeous summer days. It was the type of perfect day that's just too perfect to even imagine or fantasize about.

Now, I had perfect days before that one and I've had perfect days since, but the way that particular day appeared, in the midst of crushing heartbreak, has always seemed like a small miracle to me. The friends I was with on that day were not recovering from a wounded heart as I was, but I know it felt miraculous to them, too. It was as if, for one moment whatever we were dealing with at the time, be it heartbreak or something else entirely, just faded in the shadow of an idea; that the world was a big and beautiful place, that it was possible for someplace like Coney Island to even exist and that it was possible for us to exist there along with it.

After that day, I began handling things differently. Instead of dwelling constantly in the heartbreak of my past, I thought instead of what I liked. I made mental lists, as I began to remember I like sushi, I like vintage dresses and soon I found myself fully recovered, planting gardens full of vegetables and getting shitfaced at paella parties. My freinds displayed similar behaviour. We all seemed to feel more in touch with our own preferences, who we were, what we liked, most importantly, what made us happy. It's an easy equation; no matter how down I feel, thinking about dancing with my friends underneath The Cyclone at Coney Island always makes me happy.
That day left an imprint on my heart. A map for how to get back there. Now, when I am feeling upset, I look back to that day. No matter how tumultuous and stormy my thoughts and feeling become, that day is the center that everything else swirls around, the eye of the storm. It's where I go when I'm lost. It's where I go when I need to remind myself who I am and what I love. I love dancing. I love being drunk in the sunshine. I love my friends more than anything in the world. And no matter how bad things get, no matter how cold it is outside, I still love Coney Island, and I always will.

i've been sleeping

2011-02-27T19:59:00.000-08:00

I can't believe that I have somehow managed to not write about New York, yet. I've been home for a month, one whole month!, and somehow, not a word. While I was there, I imagined different ways to tell you about the perfect truffle fries I was eating or the flawless pair of boots I spotted on the subway and instantly coveted. In fact, I wouldn't even have to write in order to tell you about New York. I would simply have to type. The tough part has already been done and then filed away in the back of my mind to pull out whenever I have a second., which of course, I haven't.
I could blame it on my job. My schedule recently shifted and while it is now infinitely more manageable, it is taking me a bit of getting used to. I could blame it on my boyfriend, too. Since his return to Oakland he has insisted on usurping every last particle of energy I may have possessed at one point or another in my life, by forcing me to lay around in bed with him and have perfect weekends and be blissfully in love and such. That shit is draining, I tell you! Really though, I think it's better if I blame it on a book. The one I mentioned in my last post: Just Kids by Patti Smith. You know, the book that made me forget I was on a six-hour flight from the East to West Coast?
Just Kids was written by Patti Smith as an ode to her friend and sometime lover, photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, but it's actually a name-dropping, self-glorifying, masturbatory description of what it's like to be the coolest chick in New York in 1970, (which in case you aren't cool enough to know this is way cooler than being the coolest chick in New York today...) and holy fuck, it is a masterpiece.
I don't know, it's totally possible that Patti Smith could write a three hundred page treatise on what it feels like to take a shit and I'd eat it like candy. There's something about her style of writing that feels instantly heart-wrenching, and at the same time, so familiar as to be almost familial. Maybe this is because my first exposures to her particular brand of intensity all occurred through my parents who were both on-and-off fans of hers. Who the fuck knows.

In any case, I think the whole thing is beautifully written. It veers occasionally into the realm of the unbelievable, portraying the author as nothing less than a saint, abstaining from drinks, drugs and everything fun, and stumbling, completely accidentally of course, into glorious social situations with the likes of Joni Mitchell and Jimi Hendrix whilst she was simply trying to focus on her art and be noble. But really, who cares? We all do that. We all remember things in a way that allows us to view ourselves favorably, and I think we all also know that Patti Smith did as many drugs as anyone else who lived at the Chelsea Hotel in the 70s. But truthfully, it just doesn't even matter. I mean, she's writing about living in the Chelsea Hotel for fucksake, and getting coffee with Allan Ginsberg and it's all just so enviably romantic.
Actually, my favorite part of the entire book is in the very beginning, when she's talking about living in Jersey or Pittsburgh or some similarly god-awful place and being dirt poor and getting knocked up by accident. She mentions something about going to some diner once a week to get a donut and listen to their jukebox and how that was like, the bright spot in her life at that time. For some reason, the idea of Patti Smith self-soothing by eating a shitty donut at some shitty diner in shithole Jersey, all by her lonesome, was just so, so touching to me. Maybe it's because when I get depressed, I too have a tendency to eat shitty food in solitude. It just seemed like such a vulnerable, human thing to share, and the fact that it happens in the beginning sort of sets the tone for the entire book. So, even though her remaining attempts to portray herself as a real person with real struggles fall sort of flat in light of the fact that she doesn't actually have a real job besides being photographed all day and kicking it with celebs, you kind of forgive her for it, because you know, at one point in her life, she ate shitty donuts like the rest of us.
And I know, I know, everything I have to say about this book is just reeking of jealousy. I'll admit it freely. Stories like this make me jealous. I've said it here before, but goddamn, I want to be an artist!!! I want to quit my day job and be a fucking artist! I'm positive that this is part of the reason this book is so appealing to me. I have differing opinions on Patti Smith's merit as a musician. I find a lot of her music whiny and self-indulgent, but Dancing Barefoot resonates with me more strongly than almost any other piece of music I've ever heard. But regardless of her talent, or her skill, she set out to be an artist. She had some sort of blind, almost naive, but nonetheless fierce faith that she would be able to support herself through means other than the conventional, and whether she got lucky, or worked her ass off for it, she succeeded. Things could have fallen apart for her at any given moment, as easily as they could have for any one else, but they didn't, and in that, there is magic.
There is magic, too in the way that she describes the city. The mood she creates is just so, so New York. After a week of trudging through blizzards, getting snowed in, and remembering why I moved to the West Coast in the first place, I needed that. Before I tried to tell you about my vacation, before I even tried to digest it myself, I needed to remember that New York is magic, too. So, on the plane ride home, I read about New York and I re-lived my vacation. I re-lived every moment I've ever spent in New York surrounded by that particular type of magic, and in re-living, it all became tied together. This book, my vacation, every moment I've spent in New York city from the day I was born. I think that after one month, I'm finally ready to tell you about all of it.

a dream about flying

2011-01-30T10:06:00.000-08:00

Melvin Sokolsky

Sometimes, an airplane can feel like a death sentence. Hours of your life, wasted, twisted up like a pretzel, hungry and cranky, with approximately one-hundred strangers who are also hungry and cranky and you all have to stay like that for hours, crowding each other's space and breathing each other's air. It's like something out of a horror movie. Some sick form of torture that only a madmen could ever devise.

There are other times though, when it doesn't feel that way at all.

I am writing this on an airplane right now.

And it feels good.

My flight was delayed due to the fog in San Francisco. Would you believe that? I mean, you'd think that by now they would realize that it's usually pretty foggy in San Francisco and plan accordingly. Then, after we boarded, we sat on the ground for another hour while the plane went through de-icing, and guess what?

I still feel good.

I feel better than good. I feel free. I've got about four more hours ahead of me, and I'm not sure that I've ever felt more free. I am somewhere between New York and San Fransisco, somewhere between my boyfriend and my empty bed, somewhere between my family and my future. And I cannot even explain to you how deliciously fucking free I feel.

There's a part of me that feels like a total bitch saying that. Especially if I start thinking about the boy I left in New York, his eyes like icy pinwheels, lost and confused, while I build walls to tear us apart.

“I'm really sad that you're leaving.”

“Oh, come on. I'll see you in four days. It's no big deal.”

And then, “I'm just moody because my vacation is over.”

It's been a whirlwind of a week. It was exactly the vacation I needed but it ended and not a moment too soon. Don't get me wrong, it was perfect, or maybe it was imperfect in all the right ways. The weather was disastrous. During my five days on the east coast, it snowed and rained and snowed and slushed and sleeted and snowed some more. Temperatures dipped down into the single digits, and my bank account came pretty close as well. Still, it was my vacation and I loved every second of it. That is, until I started to drown in it.

You see, I have this habit of isolating myself. When given the option, I'd take at least one hour each day to do nothing but sit in silence and revel in the detail of my own mind. I am a champion daydreamer, a world class fantasizer and my ability to overanalyze is so keen that I've occasionally been called obsessive. Some might argue that tendencies like this are destructive or anti-social. I believe however (and I'm not the only one – my therapist agrees with me!), that these moments of intense thought are crucial to my ability to live a rich and satisfying life.

My personality is highly empathetic. I feel other people feelings, dramas and issues as if they are my own. I'm not really sure why I do this, but I like to think that it's a good thing as it keeps me humble when I'm not otherwise inclined towards that. It does however, have it's drawbacks. Like when the people that I love start to overwhelm me. Like when I start to hate being looked at, let alone touched. Like the fact that I need hours to myself for deep contemplation when other people don't and sometimes this makes a mess of things.

That's why I'm happy to be on this plane. That's why I'm happy to be lost behind my laptop. That's why I'm happy, because I have an excuse. Everyone isolates themselves on planes. They made me turn my phone off. I'm alternating between writing this and reading Just Kids by Patti Smith. Honestly, can you think of anything more romantic than to be reading that on the way back from Brooklyn to San Francisco? I'm totally smitten. Not to mention the fact that I'm weightless, flying through the air, a million miles above every thing that matters. And I've got six whole hours of this. That's enough to make up for all the seclusion I missed this week and then some!

That's not to say that I'd like to stay this way forever. The second my boyfriend left my side, I felt his absence acutely. Not like a wound. Maybe more like a cramp, or the way your muscles ache the day after the gym. Kind of sweet, kind of sore. I'm glad that I've only got four more days until I see him next. I'm glad that he'll be back in Oakland soon. Any longer than that and I would start to get desperate. The way I did before. Wondering if he would prefer some other girl over me, if I had alienated him with my unrelenting need for space.

But I won't worry about those things now. Instead, I'll read my romantic book while I eat pastries that I smuggled in my bag from Brooklyn. I'll marvel at the idea of eating pastries at 36,000 feet. Maybe I'll order a movie or a jasmine tea (I love virgin!). Until I land in San Francisco, this moment is mine.

dream manifesto

2011-01-29T21:12:00.000-08:00

nhung

When I was 11, I had this dream. It took place outside of my elementary school, which happens to be located down the street from my childhood home. It was a dream about two boys, both of whom I knew in real life, neither of whom I had ever thought about sexually before (yes, I thought about boys sexually at 11! Stop pretending you didn't.). In the dream, I lost my virginity to one of the boys, while the other stood and watched. I did not however, lose my virginity to him in the normal way. There was no penetration, maybe not even any bodily contact (It's a bit blurry. It was, after all, 15 years ago). It was more just an awareness that it had happened; a strange knowledge that I had chosen to give this boy a piece of my innocence, and a feeling that it was supremely right or meant-to-be.

I woke up that morning and proceeded to have the most gigantic crush of my life on this boy. Then, five years later, at sixteen, I lost my v-card to him on the floor of his friend's sister's dorm room. I felt nothing. I felt less than nothing. We fooled around for a long time before he actually, you know, put it in, and when he finally did, I had to question whether or not he really had, because that's how much it felt like nothing. It was if I was merely carrying out the physical end of a spiritual contract I had made a million years ago.

Don't you think that shit is fucking bizzarre?!

For the longest time, I swore I was psychic. I had other experiences of this type, too. Where I would dream something and it would come true. Or I would dream something and someone would start talking to me about a similar situation the next day. One time I was involved in a very, very bad romance with a paranoid schizophrenic and I developed these nightmares about terrible gruesome creatures only to find out later that the creatures in my dreams matched the description of his schizophrenic delusions exactly. Needless to say, this was a big motivating factor in choosing to never sleep next to him again ever.

Later, I developed an odd recurring dream. Almost every night, I would dream of having sex with one of my close family members. I would wake up every morning disgusted with myself, sometimes in tears. I went to therapy and my therapist assured me that I was not sick or secretly desiring of incestual encounters. Then, I moved away and the dreams stopped. It never occured to me that the dreams were actually my subconcious screaming at me You are too close with these people!!!, despite the fact that the dreams started at the exact same moment when I became too scared to leave my hometown for fear of abandoning my family.

Yup, I've had a long and intense realtionship with the part of my mind that wakes up when my body is sleeping. Even when my dreams are not psychic, or incestuous, they are often vivid and strange; filled with beauty and symbolism and emotions too raw to ever feel in real life. I have come to the conclusion that I would not trade my good dreams in for relief from the bad ones, even when they were seemingly ruining my life. I love dreaming. I love my dreams. They are one of my primary interests and motivations in this life. When I saw Inception, I left the theater pissed that it was not real, because if I could dream for a living I would do it in a second, no matter how dangerous or illegal.

I have long searched for an outlet for my vivid dreaming. If I had any skill at painting or drawing, I would put them on display for the whole world to see. I have tried to write them out, but it is infinitely frustrating. Our language is not designed for such intense things. Over time, I have resigned myself to the sad truth that dreams are not for sharing, and even if they were, how could they possibly mean as much to someone else as they mean to me?

But then, this morning while I was running, I had a thought. It was briliantly sunny out, and the song that was playing on my ipod seemed to complement the weather perfectly. I had a desire that was similar to my desire to share my dreams; I wanted to store that moment and save it for later. I wanted to bring it home to Connecticut and pull it out to show all the people I love who have never been here what a California winter feels like. Then it occured to me that had I never moved here, I'd be one of those people who had never experienced winter in California, and then I started to consider what effect that would have on my dreams.

Sometimes in my dreams, I visit places over and over again. Often these places do not exist in real life, but are evocative of other places that do. Sometimes, I dream of feelings over and over. Sometimes I dream of people who I love, or people I have never even met. I have come to think of all the things I dream about as my dream vocabulary. The pictures and symbols and sounds and feelings my subconcious has latched onto, either in real life or my own vibrant imaginings, have served as a pallette that I've used each night to create an entire dreaming world that I inhabit. What a fucking miracle that our brains are even capable of this!

Even more miraculous is the realization I came to this morning; that our dream vocabularies are (mostly) under our control. That if we cultivate beautiful experiences and think beautiful thoughts, not only will we live beautiful lives, but we'll dream beautiful dreams. And in this way, our dreams are actually moments that encompass our entire lives. Every memory that you thought was gone forever is a part of the material that creates your dreams. Dreams are what our lives look like when time no longer exists; a snapshot of every moment we've experienced all rolled into one, and in this way, when we're dreaming we are infinite and eternal.

Fuck, that was one of the best thoughts I've ever had!!!!!

So good a thought, in fact, that it's where I have decided to start. And I know, I know; technically I've already started. I told you all months ago, about this new beginning and then I halted, stuck. There was a spark, but then it never ignited. I carved out my place and I waited.

And I don't mean to say that I've seen the light. I don't mean to preach at you like some evangelical nutcase claiming that I know the answer because god showed it to me. Rather, it was as if all the thoughts I had been mulling over, arranging and re-arranging in my mind, slowly came to form an image that finally felt right. I realized, very calmly, in a single moment that all I've ever wanted to do was collect dreams. Or more precisely, collect experiences and filter them through the kaleidoscope of my unique perspective to create dreams, and I realized also, that I want to record that process and that ultimately, that is the only imprint I want to leave on this world.

So, here it is: from this moment forth, a new paradigm. I will write as if I'm dreaming. I will write about my dreaming. In the end, they are the same thing; a collection of moments, perceptions, realities. Welcome to my museum

enchanted forest

2011-01-15T21:04:00.000-08:00

Suza Scalora

When I was little, I used to read fairy tales. Weetzie Bat fairy tales. Tarot card fairy tales. Books were my religion. Children went to church with their families, I was curled up at home reading fairy tales.

When it was time to grow up, I never knew how. People asked me what would you like to be? and my heart would answer i'd like to be an artist. i'd like to be a hero. What does anyobody want to be except exactly who they are?

Fairy tales do not tell you what you will have to sell in order to pay your rent. They do not tell you what you end up trading for your success. There are no instructions for what to do when your work becomes a monster that steals your time, your energy, your ability to trust and love. There is no handsome prince who comes to slay the beast.

I have heard tales of those who do things differently. But they are tales. Not false, necesarilly, but pleasant and polite. Whenever someone whom I admire is interviewed about how they got where they are, I wish they'd stop talking about how important it is to follow your dreams and just tell me how the fuck they paid their rent while they were waiting for their dreams to make money.

So, this is where I am now. In the woods. Not pleasant. Not pretty. But I didn't promise to be pleasant or pretty, I promised to be honest. In all honesty, I wish I had something beautiful to share with you, but I just don't

I'd like to be honest with you, if I may.

2010-12-05T21:55:00.000-08:00

I had a blog before, but I stopped liking it. It was boring, confining, less than authentic. Those of you who know me are aware of how much authenticity I require. Actually, authenticity is a pussy word. I require brutal honesty. Nothing but the realest.

So, I made this new blog where, I imagined, I'd be brutally honest. I would stick to writing about the things that I love, but I would do so without fear, or hesitation and with a level of candour previously unheard of in the blogging world. And then, I didn't. I promptly resorted back to my old ways, deleting millions of posts before I even finished writing them for fear of pissing someone off or creating an image for myself that might not be so complementary. Old habits die hard, I guess.

But it's not working for me. I need to say what I feel, and I need to say it with faith in my heart that no matter how ugly I am capable of being, what lies at my center is good, and worthwhile. I've got a point to make and I need to stop being scared to make it.

Take this week for example. I didn't write a thing. Not a single thing. I didn't have time to take a picture Actually, I did take some pictures, but then I promptly left my camera in Ashley's car. It's been one of those weeks. My day job feels like an abusive relationship. My relationship ran away to Canada. My friends all moved, or are busy, or tired and when they're not, I'm fucking tired, and in the midst of this I keep managing to prove to myself again and again that I have no self control. None whatsoever.

Look at me falling apart at the seams!

No, really. Look:

This is me, at home in my bed. I'm not wearing any makeup and my hair looks like shit because I went to the gym and got all sweaty and was too lazy to wash it. My eyes look like death because I've been drinking too much and everyone knows that sleeping when you're drunk is like not sleeping at all.

Still, I'm happy to be at home. I'm happy that I finally managed to find time for a workout. I'm happy that I seem to have hit some sort of rock bottom. Now, I will curl up here for a few days and sleep. And when I'm done, trust. I'll come back brighther than ever. I'm really much better at this brutal stuff than I've ever cared to admit.

Thanks, for real

2010-11-30T20:08:00.000-08:00

I wanted to tell you a story for Thanksgving.

I wanted to tell you how, when I was 23, I made the best Thanksgving dinner Highland Ave has ever seen (God, I miss my house on Highland) I wanted to tell you how I stayed in the night before (for the first time ever!) and blanched brussels sprouts instead of crushing long islands at Kev's Pub with my girls. I wanted to tell you what a baby my ex-boyfriend was about his deathly hangover the next day and how I managed to pull it all together at the last minute despite an incident involving a bloody nose and an almost fire. I wanted to tell you how I curled up at the end of the night, watching Sideways for the first time and eating Delice d'Argental with my fingers, and felt like I had finally entered adulthood and like things could stay that way forever.

And of course they didn't. That was the moral of the story I wanted to tell you. Things change.

But I wanted to tell you about what stayed the same, too. I wanted to tell you how right before that 23rd Thanksgiving, I received the largest sum of money I'd ever seen and in my infinite 23 year old adult wisdom I decided to invest it.....in as much vintage as my closet could hold. I wanted to tell you how I purchased this unnasuming BCBG piece that I ended up wearing that Thanksgiving, and how it sticks out in my mind more than any other detail about that day, how I've worn it a million times since, ripped it and sewn it back together. And I wanted to tell you how my Thanksgiving this year felt like a real holiday because I wore that dress and all it's history, because I followed a tradition that I made by accident while trying to be an adult, and that's why clothing is important to me, and that's the only reason I'd ever even bother to take a picture of what what I was wearing on a certain day or list my outift details.

(I promise I will never be one of those fashion bloggers who bores you with endless outfit posts that all look the same and then feels clever because they managed to rip off someone other motherfuckers stupid, trendy look so accurately. I think that's shameful and disgusting. But seriously, though, have you ever seen a more perfect dress to wear on Thanksgiving? I promise you haven't because it does not exist.)

But I didn't write anything on Thanksgving. I barely even managed to take photos of the aforementioned dress. Instead, I made this hazelnut cake with brown butter (minus the chocolate) and it was quite possibly the best and most easiest cake I've ever produced, ever. I also made a stuffing that included way too much chicken stock and resembled more closely a bread pudding, but was adictively good nonetheless. I discussed with my uncle the promised benefits of listening to binaural beats and whether or not they could possibly be anything other than bullshit and I played with my new SLR and learned a tiny bit more about how a camera actually works.

Most importantly though, I felt thankful. Without warning or warrant, seemingly from nowhere, I felt thankful. I felt thankful because I felt at home. I felt thankful because this year, on Thanksgiving I felt like I was having a real holiday and not just honoring the ghost of some ritual I used to celebrate, in my old home, where I used to live.

This is my excuse. This is the reason I did not write you a meaningful story on Thanksgiving. I was too busy giving thanks. Being humbled by the kind of gratitude that comes swooping in like a storm and knocks you on your ass. Yes, things change, but on Thanksgiving for me this year, all the changes I have endured over the past couple of years added up to one of those perfect moments where all you can do is sit in awe and honor that perfection with the knowledge that it is fleeting and thing will change again. Soon.

So, I hope you can forgive me, for my lack of proper picture-taking and for my confession of supreme gratitude on a day that's not even sanctioned for that. And I hope you know that whether they are belated or not, my wishes that you and everyone you love should constantly be humbled and awed by intense gratitude are no less sincere.

Happy (late, late, late) Thanksgiving!

goodbye.

2010-11-10T19:32:00.000-08:00

i can't even remember how many times I've written a post here swearing up and down that I would update this damn thing more often. and just as many times, I've broken that promise. i must confess, it's been a while since this felt like it was truly mine.

this has always been my "personal" blog. meaning that I wrote about personal subjects, but also, that I took it personally. i shared this blog with my friends, my family, my facebook. and you guys all read it! maybe you never commented, but you read it, you sent me texts, asked me when the fuck i'd get around to posting again, and because of that, I continued to write it. for you.

it's been a long time since my first entries in this thing have had anything to do with the person that I am now. i do not look back and cringe, as if wishing I had never been young or stupid or bratty, naive, in love. rather, i look back and feel disconnected.
i go through these phases where I think how much I want to write and I swear that I'm going to start updating this damn thing again, and maybe, just maybe, I can manage to push out three decent posts before the weight of all the baggage i've unloaded here over time becomes crushing and i lose my desire to write at all, because writing here has become a chore and that's never been what this was about.
but i do want to write. if you know me, you know that. i treasure my perspective more than i treasure just about anything else, and i go to great lengths to preserve and maintain it, to not allow it to be muddled or skewed. and I do this because I've always felt it would serve me well one day, and I've just decided that day is happening right now. it's been happening, all around me, for months and i've been ignoring it.
so, i'm not done writing. but I am done writing here. and i'm done writing for any reason other than to honor my perspective in all it's sloppy, vulgar, intense fragility, and if that's not something you think you can handle, than you're entitled to your opinion, but to be frank, I could care less about it. but if you do think you can handle that and maybe that it could even be fun or entertaining or worth five minutes of your time, then you can visit me here in the future.

i still love you, always.

this microphone is not a dildo so you are going to have to cum a little harder than that

2010-11-04T13:35:00.001-07:00

oh, jasmine mans. I just so happened to wake up so full of feminist angst this morning that I seriously considered quitting my job just so that I wouldn't have to come in today and look at anyone's stupid face, and then I saw this. Now, all I wanna do is watch it on repeat...and maybe make out with you a little.

love always

birfday witches

2010-09-20T21:58:00.000-07:00

Yes, yes, it's that time again! My birthday is right around the corner. Yes, yes, I know. I'm bad at birthdays. Always have been. I get all caught up in the expectation to have the best time ever, and I go cray cray trying to control shit and then I'm inevitably let down. Last year was the crown jewel in a long line of bad, bad birthdays because I had just moved to California and did not know anyone besides my Dad and his girlfriend and my Uncle. So, I pretty much went to bed at ten o'clock on my birthday and may or may not have cried myself to sleep.
But this year will be different, I just know it! I have the most fabulous friends in the world to keep me calm and grounded and I'm gonna do my absolute best to just chill out and let it happen.
Now, I am not at all expecting presents. In fact, I could care less about them. If no one buys them, I will still be happy as long as I have a good time surrounded by people that I love.
-But.....
people have been asking me what I want, so to make it easier, and just for the sake of fantasy, here's what I'd like if you're buying.

-Tickets to Treasure Island (Saturday only! I repeat, only Saturday!)
I wanna see LCD Soundsystem! So fucking bad it hurts. Seriously though, I don't go alone, so I'm not actually asking you to buy me a ticket. I can afford my own. But, if this sounds like something you might wanna do, please buy yourself a tickets, that way we can go together and hold hands and dance in the sun!

-Moneys
I know that is a seriously weak request. Especially considering that I am not broke. I do however, have to afford a plane ticket home on Christmas Eve. In case you didn't know, flying on Christmas Eve is insanely expensive. If I had a choice, I would not do it. But my work schedule demands that I be there right up until the last second, and I cannot, absolutely cannot spend Christmas away from my family. Sooooo, any monetary gifts that I receive for my birthday this year will be funding that trip. I promise.

-A bike (pink, please!)
When I first moved here, I swore I would never ride a bike. It seemed like the trendy thing that everyone was doing, and therefore, I felt I should avoid it like the plague. But since then, I can't even tell you how many times I've wished I had a goddamn bike. Like when all my friends don't have to worry about parking/driving drunk but I do. Or the other day when my roommate and I were trying to decide whether to walk or drive to the farmer's market and the obvious solution was to just bike there, but since I don't have a fucking bike, we walked. In the rain. You should have seen my fucking hair after that.
And no, I don't actually know how to ride a bike, but many people have generously offered to spend their time teaching me, and I think it would be shame not to take advantage of their generosity.

-Bubbles
If you want me to love you forever I'll take bottles of Egly Ouriet, Pommery, Vilmart & Cie and Nicolas Feiullatte, please and thank you. Although, you could also just buy some cheap ass drugstore shit and I'd be equally pleased, as long it sparkles.

-Cupcakes
Do I really even have to explain this?

-Your beautiful faces
What I want most for my birthday is to see as many of my friends and family as possible. I understand that some of you live far and that makes it pretty much impossible, but those of you that can show up, please do. Having your friends three-thousand miles away on your birthday really puts this kind of shit into perspective. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would make me happier than to turn 26 surrounded by as many of you as possible.

Okay, now let's go celebrate!

love always

seasons change but people don't

2010-09-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

The other night I was laying in bed, after a deadly combination of red wine and white russians, and I had a thought that sent me absolutely crazy! Like batshit, I tell you! The thought was this: I am currently missing fall on the East Coast!

This has never, ever happened to me before! It almost came pretty close to happening last year, as I was preparing to move cross country with little more than a week's notice, but I stretched out my time at home, opting to drive faster and longer days so I could squeeze more time out of my last autumn.

weheartit

Like many New Englanders, autumn is my favorite season, and it's not just because of all that beautiful fall foliage we're so famous for (although it is insane, I promise you). There's something about the air. The way it smells (crushed leaves and bonfires), the way it feels (crisp and cool, almost brittle). For a brief moment in time, having to wear a scarf and a hoodie feels downright romantic.

weheartit

Fall in New England is fair season. I know I'm corny for it, but I absolutely love fairs. The Durham Fair is my personal favorite, although the big E is impressive and unbelievable in it's tackiness, and runs a close second.Here's the worst part about my mini-obsession with the Durham Fair: I never even go on any rides. Nor do I play games, or look at handmade candles and dream catchers. I go there for one thing and one thing only; the food. Fair food is hands down, my favorite, favorite guilty pleasure. Must haves at the Durham Fair include strawberry shortcake, clam chowder in a bread bowl, and a ginormous bag of kettle corn, and if you go to the big E, for the love of god, eat a cream puff!

weheartit

Fall in New England is also apple season. I mean, I'm sure it's apple season here, too, but I don't think California has quite the wealth of apples as a place like CT, and even if they did, they most certainly do not have Lyman Orchards, where you can get an apple cider and a cider donut and then, maybe even go on a hayride (do they still do that?) with a bunch of bratty, dirty kids. The best thing though, about Lyman's is the way their apples taste, straight off the tree. Simultaneously juicy and crunchy and altogether perfect.

weheartit

It breaks my heart to think that children in California have never spent an afternoon raking leaves in their yard and then jumping into the piles, running around smelling like damp earth with twigs in their hair.
If I had my way, for my birthday, I'd take all the people I love who live here and put them on a plane to meet up with all the people I love back home, and then we'd go have a bonfire in the woods, just like when I was 17.
I guess I'm just feeling homesick. Waxing poetic about the east coast and forgetting that after fall comes winter, which is bitter cold and, after Christmas, completely unbearable. I've heard rumors that the West Coast has it's fair share of fall activities, too. Harvest festivals and haunted houses. The air here at this of year feels warmer, but not altogether different. There's still that sense of changing seasons, some things ending, others just beginning. Who knows, maybe ten years from now, I'll be looking back here longingly, thinking how much I loved spending fall in the bay area.

weheartit

But for now, I'm feeling bittersweet. Almost enjoying the way my heart aches for what feels like home. There's something special about being here and missing there. When I was younger and the feeling of loss was a relatively new sensation, I would always go to my father with my troubles, bemoaning how much it hurt. "So let it hurt," he would say, "That's how you know it meant something."

love always

holiday

2010-07-18T14:42:00.000-07:00

I finally had an actual vacation! Like, as in, I got on a plane and went somewhere new and different for fun. Not for work, not for some tedious family obligation, and certainly not anywhere near CT (even though I don't live there anymore, something about it is like, the anti-vacation). I went to San Diego to visit Scarlet and Geoff in their cute new house and celebrate the 4th of July by drinking copious amounts of alcohol and eating way too much food.
The best thing about Scarlet and Geoff's new house is their shower, for sure. I noticed their amazing shower curtain first, with it's impeccable detailing and flawless craftsmanship. Would you believe they sourced it all the way from Target?! Astounding! After cooing over it for like an hour when I first arrived, I was awed to find, the next morning, that behind this masterpiece lies the most fabulous mint-green tile I have ever seen! Of course I promptly forced Scarlet to take slutty photos of me standing in front of it.Unfortunately, the colors didn't come out the way I had hoped, but I promise you, it was the mintiest mint I've ever seen!
Also, check out my outfit! I got the cover-up at H+M and I've been dying to wear it ever since. I was so pumped for this trip, because unlike the Bay, San Diego actually gets beach weather. I wanted to wear my cover-up and get a tan and drink pina coladas! Alas, it was totally grey the entire time I was there, and I only actually wore this outfit for the above photo. Goddamn June gloom!
We still totally had a blast, though. On the first night, we went to this dive bar where they had this old chick handing out these awesome patriotic accessories.

We found some randoms and bought them home with us.
When the sun came up in the morning, Scarlet and I were still awake watching creepy videos like this one.
We slept for approximately five minutes. Geoff made waffles in the morning and Scarlet and I lit things on fire to make bananas foster. Then Scarlet and Geoff had a party.
Lots of people came and we ate lots of food and drank lots of beer and vodka. We went to see the fireworks at the ocean.We sat on top of this cliff and watched the fireworks explode over the water. It was dark out and the waves were crashing over all these dark, jagged looking rocks. It was one of those moments where it's so pretty you wish you could share it with everyone, so you sit there clicking the shutter on your camera, attempting to record it somehow, but eventually you just give up because you know it'll never look as beautiful as it did in person.
After the fireworks, we walked back to the house. There was another fireworks display going off in the distance. We couldn't see the actual fireworks, but it lit up the sky and made it look like magic. We stayed up drinking, yet again, until the wee hours of the morning, and by the time I got on the plane on Monday morning I was in this bizarre, slightly blissful half hungover state that lasted a good twenty four hours. I guess that's how you know you've had a vacation, right?
love always

pride

2010-07-07T22:00:00.000-07:00

So, I went to the gay pride parade in San Francisco and it was pretty fucking fantastic.
I've been to gay pride parades on the East Coast, and while I was never entirely unimpressed by the spectacle of it all, I always felt like a bystander. A mere observer. Someone who is not allowed to truly take part in all the glittering festivities because I, myself, do not identify as gay. I have often found myself wishing there was a holiday in which heterosexuals were allowed to parade through the streets wearing nothing but a sparkly g-string. (and trust me, I get it. In our culture everyday is a celebration of heterosexuality. I just wanna wear the damn g-string!)
Prior to this event, all my friends assured me that it would in fact, be entirely acceptable for me to walk around in a sparkly g-string. I was planning to go all crazy with my outfit, constructing some elaborate costume-thing. But then I went to this party on Friday night and ended up spending Saturday throwing up and eating chocolate sorbet and burnt caramel ice cream from ici in an attempt to cure my hangover and I woke up on Sunday with nothing planned, or even laundered for that matter. So, I threw on some jeans and a fancy halter, hopped on BART (which was swarming with folks in rainbow tutus) and set off to meet my friends at Oona's office, which is three stories up and has floor to ceiling windows. Straight VIP status, I tell you!
From the second I got off the train, I could tell this was a different scene than I was used to. I swear to god, it felt like everyone in the entire city had shown up to watch this thing. I don't know how to say this without being totally cheesy, but I found it tender, heartwarming, touching that an entire city would show up to honor gay pride. Not to hate on my hometown, but where I'm from, there are people who wouldn't go to a gay pride parade if you paid them. Pathetic, I know. To most folks from the Bay Area, I imagine that it's no surprise to see their community united this way. It's a well known fact that San Francisco is a notoriously accepting city, not only of gays, but of people from all different walks of life. Still, to me it was really special to know that a place exists where being gay (or a sex-worker, or a radical, pagan feminist, etc.) is not only allowed, it's simply not a big deal. I got hollered at by mad straight dudes who showed up for gay pride and no matter how annoying it may have been (I had one dude scream down the street at me “Girrrl, you got a fattyyy!!”) that's actually kind of cool when you think about it.
Plus, the parade was breathtaking:So, yeah, I was getting all emotional, not to mention tipsy and feeling so damn warm and fuzzy that I failed to notice I was missing THE BACKSTREET BOYS!!!!!! They played a set after the parade and I was too busy holding hands with my girlfriends and crying happy tears into my gin and tonic to realize what the fuck was going on. The shame! The horror!

After I finally recovered from that massive heartbreak (2 seconds later), we decided to walk down to the castro, where, sure as shit, everyone was still out and about celebratin'. Oh, except for this chick:We started talking to her because Oona wanted to adopt her cat, but unlike most of the people you encounter posted up on city sidewalks, this woman was actually making sense. She told us this story, how she came from a small town in Ohio and couldn't wait to get out, how she was young and wild and having the time of her life in good old SF, and then, how she found she had HIV and her life fell apart. The saddest thing about her story was the earnestness with which she described attempting to get government assistance and then realizing that all the money that is supposed to be helping people like her is actually being embezzled by fat cat politicians who are using it as a means to their own end. I can't guarantee that she isn't full of shit or batshit crazy, but it was a good reminder that if you're donating to charity and you don't fully research or understand the causes you're donating to, you may as well be throwing your money in the trash for all the good it's doing.This chick is like, 60 years old and has been living with AIDS for years now. Can you imagine how beautiful she must've been when she was younger? And the whole bit about being from a small town and moving to San Francisco and loving it? That could've been me! Seriously people, if you're shelling out money to some random charity just so you can feel like you're doing something good, please stop. Find a legit program that's actually out there helping real people.

After all that heavy shit (plus a failed attempt at using a public bathroom) we were in desperate need of a drink. We found this place that basically looked like a swanky hall of mirrors and settled in with some dark and stormys

I took random photos in the bathroom.

Then we took off to another bar, where we engaged in more debauchery.This is where things start to get a bit blurry. Drunk drama, an insufferably long wait for the BART, I may have even eaten mcdonald's (ugh). Still, it was all so fucking worth it. I might not be gay, but when it comes to being part of a community that knows how to unite and truly go wild in celebration of our differences, I'm totally fucking proud.

love always

Best Day Ever!

2010-06-29T20:53:00.000-07:00

No, not because Eclipse is finally out today.
Today is my best friend Amy's birthday! 27 years ago today, a miracle occurred and one of the baddest bitches this world will ever see was born. Here, the top five reasons why that makes me so ecstatic:

5. Her sick dance moves!
No disrespect to the king of pop or anything, but now that he's all dead and gone, Amy is officially the only person on the planet who truly knows how to work it out to "Billie Jean". Seriously, if you live in Mtown and you've never experienced this phenomenon in action, go to Amy's house and beat down her door until she agrees to show you her old dance videos. No life is complete without seeing this.

4. She had a baby on my couch!
After an experience like that, how could you not be close?! The way that Erin came into this world is so intense and so magical. I feel privileged to have been a part of it.

3. She is an excellent mother, among other things.

Amy's devotion to her daughter is truly moving. Her comittment to raising her child in a loving and supportive manner is nothing short of exemplary. But Amy's not one to flaunt that. So many of my facebook friends who have children are constantly posting about how much they love their kids, which is sweet and all but it's also kind of a given. Of course you love your kids! Everyone loves their kids! Amy loves her daughter with a fierceness like no other, but that hasn't stopped from doing a number of other amazing things, like finishing her graduate degree and being an all around down ass chick.

2. She's funny as hell!Even in my darkest moments, Amy is one of the few people who can always get me to crack a smile. Her sense of humor is dark, occasionally innapropriate and always hysterical. From telling boys "I already had you!" to joking about beating off with weston corn oil, this bitch always has me dying! Plus, she has one of those awesome laughs that makes everyone else want to laugh too, even though she says it's really a cackle.

1. She's the bestest friend in the whole wide world!
Amy is loyal, almost to a fault. No matter how many times we've lost touch throughout the years, no matter how many bad situations I've dragged her into, she has always come through for me when I needed her. Amy is that chick who will sit and have a deep conversation while you're trying to work out your shit and then drag your ass out dancing and force feed you shots when it's time to move on and get over it. I seriously cannot even count the number of dilemnas I've successfully made it through just because she was there to support me. Despite the face that I live three thousand miles away, she still picks up her phone whenever I'm feeling low, and most of the time, just hearing her voice on the other end makes me feel better automatically.

I love you Amy LaMarre! My life would not be complete without you! I hope you have the best birthday ever because no one deserves it as much as you!

love always

time and space

2010-06-17T20:21:00.000-07:00

Finally.....
A moment to breathe.
I wish I could spend all day writing in this thing, telling you about every single one of my fabulous adventures. Alas, I am too busy having them. And also, you know, working and sleeping and doing normal stuff (what a bother!)
I do have to say though, as of late, I believe I have become more adventurous...and more fabulous! Last weekend was a wild dance party on treasure island.

Look at that breathtaking view!!! Look at those palm tress!

Look at that sunshine!Look at my adorable friends! I live in California now! Can you fucking believe it?!

Admittedly, I love it here. Since I moved, I have been happier, healthier, more centered and at the same time, crazier than I ever would have believed possible. Do I think it's because I live in California now? No. Do I think it's because I actually had the balls to pick up my shit and move out here? Do I think it's because I faced down one of my worst fears and actually left the place where I felt safest and most secure? Yes, yes, a million times, yes! The best advice I can give you in this entire life is to find what scares you most and then do it until you're not scared anymore.
With that being said, there is a very special place in my heart that is still entirely owned by lovely little Middletown, Connecticut. I visited a few weeks ago. It was my first time back in six months! I have never before spent that amount of time away from Middletown.There was a part of me that felt, without me there, that it might have just disappeared or vanished into thin air.
But no, of course it was still there. In all it's humid, thunderstorm summertime glory, smelling exactly the same as it did when I was sixteen. And even more amazing, all the people that I love had somehow survived and were just as sweet and warm and cozy as I remembered them.
My Mom, who somehow seems to only get more beautiful as she gets older.
Amy's doll Erin, who somehow became a mini woman since I left home.
Tiffany, who somehow manages to not burst into flames from her perpetual hotness.
Mojo, who somehow got even cuter AND sassier since I saw her last.
And Amy, who somehow always leaves me shocked and awed that any one person could be such a good friend.

So many beautiful, inspiring women! There was a part of me that didn't want to leave these girls, and at the same time, I was starting to miss the bay. What's a girl to do when her heart lives in two places at once? I closed my eyes really tight and made a wish that the town where my heart lives would somehow join forces with the city I am in love with and make a baby, but then I realized, if they did, it would look just like me.
love always

half of me is the gasoline, but the other half's the surf

2010-05-05T21:20:00.000-07:00

When Vampire Weekend first came out, I thought they sounded like a bunch of pussywhipped bitches. I'm not even sure which song of theirs I listened to that gave me that impression, but for some reason, it stuck with me. That is of course, until I moved to California and I kept hearing this cute little song on the radio about drinking horchata. When I found out it was by Vampire Weekend I kind of felt like a huge d-bag for liking it so much, but I got over that pretty quickly, especially when they came out with a video starring not only my boyfriend Joe Jonas, but also my husband, Rza.

A few weeks ago they played a show here in Oakland at the Fox . Even though I've totally come to terms with just how much I like them, I was not expecting them to sound as mindblowingly good as they did. I read an interview with them once where they said their album Contra is about California, and holy fuck, they got it so, so right. The set they played sounded like everything beautiful about living here.

When they left the stage, they had the audience straight-up begging for an encore. Like, I felt like if they didn't come out and play another song, I might lose my shit temper-tantrum style.

Afterwards, we were super hyped, with no desire to go home at all, so we hit up the afterparty, for major debauchery, including a sick DJ set from the band (no lie, they played Don't You Want Me by Human Leauge - my favorite 80s jam ever!), and thus commenced the absolute drunkest Monday evening I think I've ever had.

By the end of the night, after dancing our asses off like rockstars, we were in total groupie mode, shamelessly begging the boys in the band to let us accompany them back to their hotel (I am all about the hot gay one), but alas, they drove off in their Honda Element, leaving us stone cold!

A few days later, I received word that some pictures of my friends and I had popped up on a local website.

Of course I am looking all bedraggled and busted like I'm about to fall flat on my face (fucking paparazzi!), but really, we're just having waaay too much fun!

sigh. such is the price to pay for a life of excitement and glamour.

love always
p.s. Thanks to the lovely and talented Ash for taking so many beautiful pictures!

i'm baaaack!

2010-05-03T14:10:00.000-07:00

Expect massive amounts of posting to commence.....NOW!

love always

valentine

2010-02-13T20:30:00.000-08:00

This year for Valentine's day, I am without a valentine for the first time in four years. Admittedly, it feels a little odd to not be enacting the Valentine's tradition I shared with my ex - dinner at forbidden city, accompanied by copious amounts of wine - but I'm not yet at the point in my singledom where I feel bitter or slighted.

So, I'd like to celebrate with what is undoubtedly my most favorite piece of romantic poetry ever. In a way, this is my Valentine to myself. If I were to receive a Valentine, I would want it to say exactly this, as I have always fantasized that in some strange, far-off, magical way, this poem in in fact, for me (I do have rather tiny hands you know..)
But this is also my Valentine to you, to the entire universe, with love....

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
by E. E. Cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

love always

golden age

2010-01-26T22:45:00.000-08:00

"Bright moments always come back vivid..."

you know those times in your life that stay all lit up in your memory? Times when things felt effortless, easy and perfect? Times when all the people and places and things in your world just seemed to fit?
I have been lucky enough in my 25 years, to be able to say that I've got quite a few of those memories. In the past I've stumbled onto moments, periods, eras that feel so right they could only have been destined. It is in these times that I've found reasons to keep existing, to keep trying, to keep persisting.
Only, it's been a while. It's been raining here for like, two weeks straight (which feels like an eternity) I've been working and fighting and holding it down, and I'm tired, and I need, I mean really need to slip into that mode where the world just sort of starts happening around me and I can relax and know that everything is going to be not just alright, but perfect and blissful.
So I've created a plan. I've simply decided to be in that place, right now.
Beginning at this very moment, I am going to fall in love with the city I've moved to and it's going to love me back. I am going to be surrounded by beautiful and interesting and charming people, and when I have the misfortune to come across someone unpleasant, I am not going to take their behavior personally, but rather I will laugh and feel sorry for them. I am going to have adventures fall in my lap so often that I will have the freedom to pick and choose exactly which opportunities I will take advantage of. I am going to protected by a magical circle of love and starlight and sunsets and bubblegum.....and you know what the key to all of this is?
i don't have to worry about a fucking thing. I've made my decision and I'm pretty sure that for that reason alone, all of this is true.

love always

peace out 2009, it's been real

2009-12-31T11:14:00.001-08:00

It's hard to believe this past year has actually come to an end. I remember this time one year ago, thinking on my future and wondering where I might be in a year. It was a strange time in my life. I had just come out of a long, hard relationship, suffered a scathing rejection from the first boy I had dated in 4 years, dragged my mother out of the depths of a dark depression and into a brand new condo, which I was living in with her at the time, oh, and I was working a job that I absolutely hated but wasn't quite ready to admit that to myself yet.

In the midst of all this bleakness, I found a ray of hope to latch onto. My horoscopes for the year, every single one, were unanimously predicting that 2009 would be the year that I would find true love. I know what you're thinking "don't all horoscopes say that all the time?" or "why would you put that much faith in astrology?" There are a few different explanations. One is that I am hopelessly obsessed with my horoscope, as you may or not know from past posts. But the other is far more personal, and I'd imagine, easier to relate to as well. I believed that this was true because I wanted it to be true.

I wanted to fall in love with a vengeance unlike any other I had ever experienced. My life was in shambles. There was no easy solution. The best circumstances I could imagine at the time involved a charming man on a white horse (or similarly symbolic mode of transportation) swooping in to pull me out of the dark depths to which my life had sank and into a safe, happy bubble of blissful romance.

But in 2009 I did not fall in love. I went on a few dates (but, to my surprise, promptly pulled away as soon as things started to get even a bit emotional). I spent an inordinate amount of time with my ex, who despite his multitude of wonderful qualities, is decidedly not the one for me. But nowhere, at no point, in no way did I, in 2009, fall in love.

Now to some, this may seem a bit depressing. It may reek of loneliness and desperation and cold nights spent at home with no one but my cat to keep me company. But the fact that I did not fall in love this year is, in retrospect, the best thing that's ever happened to me (and I swear I'm not just saying that to make myself feel better).

In January of 2009, I hopped on a plane, for the first time in five years, to visit my dad in California, at the time, a further distance than I had ever traveled. And this seemingly small, inconsequential action set off a chain reaction that consumed and ignited and took charge of my life for the entire rest of the year. This week-long vacation set in motion a chain of events which pulled and compelled me towards bigger and greater and more outrageous outcomes than I had previously ever dreamed myself capable of.

Shortly after this trip, I was asked to leave the job that I would not allow myself to admit that I hated. I then, spent the money from my settlement check on a vacation to puerto rico, supplementing my income with a job that was neither serious, nor enduring. I left that job just in time to take advantage of a new opportunity, which ultimately led me on a cross-country adventure to a new home in a new place that one year ago today, I had never even visited.

In the past year, I have more than made up for the five years in which I did not fly. I've been back and forth and all around this country so many times it makes me dizzy to think about it. I've seen things in person that I had previously only imagined. I've seen things in myself that I had previously only imagined; a newfound sense of independence, bravery, determination. I've created a home for myself in a brand new place, complete with friends and pets and a job, rather than letting my home and my friends and my job create me. And I like myself a million times better because of it.
No, this year was not ecstatic every single second. It was no easy ride down the side of a rainbow. It was hard. It was fucking terrifying. It was heartbreaking. But in the end, it was so worth it I cannot even explain.
So, I'm happy to report, now that it's all said and done, 2009 was NOT the year that I found true love. Instead, I found something better. I found myself. And as for my love life...there's always 2010.

love always

i live here now

2009-11-22T18:15:00.001-08:00

so i think it pretty much goes without saying that since i made it to LA, i am now in my final destination: sf bay area. i feel like i ought to apologize for not updating in a while, but if you can possibly imagine moving 3000 miles away from the only place you've ever lived......
it's been complete madness.
i've been living here for about a month and a half now and it still does not feel like home. i'm not really sure if it ever will. i am homesick a large portion of the time. i miss my family, my friends, the corners and smells and flavors of the place i'm from. at the same time, i feel like i can't really go back, at least not yet. it's kinda like i'm trapped in some strange purgatorial no-man's-land and i'm not quite sure how to get out of it and into that place where i live somehwere again.

as much as i thought, upon making the decision to come out here, that the bay area was all rainbows and sunshine and crunchy, granola-y goodness, i've realized that like any other place, it has it's dark side too. I'm living in oakland, in an amazing beautiful house that was once featured in a magazine, on a tree lined street in what looks to be a charming little neighborhood, but just last week as my downstairs neighbor's friend was walking to her car, she had a gun pointed in her face and was forced to hand over her keys to some random stranger who couldn't even figure out how to start her car and ended up just running away, but still, that shit is pretty scary.

i have had two terrible nightmares since i got here and both of them sperately were some of the most unsettling i can ever remember having in the entirety of my life. sometimes the combined forces of working every single day at a job that seems like it will never be finished, plus getting lost all the time and not knowing where things are, and just the unfathomable weight of being totally and completely alone out here makes me think i might be lossing my shit for real this time.

but there are good days too. red velvet cake is pretty trendy out here. i've seen it in a few different incarnations, as cupcakes, sheetcakes, etc. it's all good with me and it makes it kinda hard to stay despondent for too long. the mocha's here are infinitely better than in ct. almost everyone eats their veggies. berkeley bowl trumps whole foods by like, a landslide. one day i managed to run all my errands without the assistance of my gps and i felt really proud and accomplished.

i live with two of the sweetest, most congenial people one could ever hope to meet and also the most adorably goofy yet well-trained boxer in the world. sometimes i get angsty and spend too much time in my room and forget to take advantage of them. i also have the privilege of working with the downest chick that ever lived and she has taken me on some fun adventures to haunted houses and fancy ice-cream shops. the other day we went to ikea and then ate hot dogs, which was really fun. she likes to make fun of twilight as much as i do, which when i really think about it makes all this moving shit almost worth it. her roommates are really rad too.

what i haven't been doing is taking pictures or documenting. i mean, i can barely remember how to breathe sometimes, but even though this is all kind of confusing and uncomfortable, i have a feeling that when it's all said and done, i'll still want to remember it.

love always

road trip, day five: LA

2009-11-06T11:38:00.000-08:00

i know, i know, i'm supposed to be writing about LA. I've been working on it, believe me. I've started this entry i don't know how many times, only to abandon it after a few sentences. i guess i just feel like LA is a big deal. I mean, I spent a large chunk of my adolescence reading FLB and fantasizing about living there. I jut don't feel like anything i could say would really do it justice.

Actually, I really don't feel like the time I spent in LA did it justice even. It was towards the end of our trip, so I was tired and cranky. I was feeling all twisted up and conflicted and emotional about the fact that I finally made it to California. Half of me wanted to turn around and speed back the other way towards home. I was burdened with the terrible knowledge that my traveling companion and soulmate would be leaving me soon. I was weird. And confused. And slightly psychotic.

On top of that, LA was fucking intense. Our hotel was like a fucking hipster circus.The fact that our bathroom wall was glass made me really uncomfortable because like, what if I had to take a shit? I mean jon and I are close, but not that close.

Hollywood was even more intense.

At a certain point I think I just shut down and went all numb and apathetic about the whole thing. It was just too much for an angtsy, overtired girl to handle, you know?

The one thing I do remember about Los Angeles with perfect, crystal clarity is the fucking meal that we had there.Pedro took us out for bbq in koreatown, and it was seriously the best, most hauntingly satisfying meal I have ever had.
I have not stopped craving that shit since. (Although I hear there's some pretty good korean bbq in oakland as well).We also drank this weird korean booze that tasted like poison but worked like a charm on my hopelessly frazzled nerves.

Later that night we totally were gonna hit up the rooftop bar at our swanky hotel, but when we saw how busy it was and how under-dressed we were compared to the glammed-out barbies and kens that were swarming all over the place, we decided to just retire to our room and watch harry potter instead.

the next morning we had a really overpriced breakfast that consisted of amazing, fresh squeezed juice and the grossest, runniest eggs I have ever paid $20 for.our waiter looked unnervingly like jon circa 2005.

Oh, LA, I'm sorry we didn't really have a chance to bond. Maybe I'll visit again once I've recovered from this whole ordeal and we'll hit it off smashingly like I always imagined we would.

love always

p.s. on the way to LA we totally stopped at In-N-Out burger and that shit was bangin.sorry y'all, i just couldn't help myself.

road trip, day four: NM, AZ

2009-10-16T21:40:00.000-07:00

i've totally put off writing about this day, because i will always remember it as the day we got stuck in the most horrendously awful traffic of my life. to say the least, it was truly bad.

it didn't start off that way though. we woke up on old route 66 in New Mexico in the king suite of the super 8 motel. what can i say? i'm a classy broad.

for anyone who's ever seen cars, route 66 really does look like radiator springs.
we stopped at the KIX on 66 diner and ate some really yummy huevos ranchero for breakfast.
when we got on the highway, we saw a sign for like, the most amazing, coolest rest stop ever that's totally worth waiting 70 more exits for or something like that, so even though i really had to pee, we decided to hold out. it's a damn good thing we did too, otherwise we would've missed out on the largest selection of fake-ass native american touristy shit known to man. including such gems as this
and this
i really shouldn't talk too much shite because we totally did buy a pair of baby mocassins for adonis. they were too cute to resist!

after the tourist trap, my camera battery died, which is really kind of a mini-tragedy because New Mexico and Arizona were some of the coolest looking states we drove through.

at one point, we were in the dead center of this mountain range in Arizona, coming down through the mountains as the sun was setting. it was so beautiful it felt surreal.
then, about ten minutes later is when we hit the traffic. we were still coming down the mountain and up ahead the only thing visible was a spiral of breaklights. all the exits had creepy, foreboding names like bloody basin and dead man's ditch and when we called laura, she assured us that no, there was no point trying to get off and go another way. we were indeed, stuck there.

now, i'm gonna try not to go into too much whiney detail, but can you imagine, after four straight days of driving, stiff neck, no sleep, miles from home, we sat in traffic for two whole hours and moved only ten miles. it was heartwrenching.
eventually, we did make it to laura's house, where she and kevin were kind enough to feed us the best tacos ever and let us sleep in their guest bed, which, after three nights of hotels, really was the nicest thing anyone could've done for me.

love always

road trip, day three: MO, OK, TX, NM

2009-10-11T09:34:00.000-07:00

the third day of our trip took us out of missouri and into oklahoma, but first we had to stop at the waffle housefor us northerners, it's a bit of a novelty but i get the feeling that waffle house is like a southern version of denny's.
siting there that morning, looking out the window at a completely unfamiliar
scene, I had this overwhelming sense of freedom, like I could spend the rest of my life driving around and eating in crappy diners and be totally happy and content.

in oklahoma we saw lots of cows and hay.
In texas, the landscape started to shift with little hills popping up in random placesthe road we were driving seemed to go on forever

when the sun set, there was not a cloud in the sky and it was almost painful, hot and blinding.

we stopped in amarillo to eat good, old-fashioned texas barbecueour meals came with coleslaw, potato salad, onion rings, apricots, beans and texas toast. it was quite the setup. but the best part by far, was the decor!

love always

road trip, day two: OH, IN, IL, MO

2009-10-08T10:24:00.000-07:00

after the panic-inducing first day of our trip, things got decidedly better. jon insisted on starting out the day by watching bolt on his ipod with the volume on full blast through my speakers, which made me tearfully homesick for my baby kitty, but around the time the movie was finished, we crossed over into Indiana, which was the first place we saw that looked truly different from the northeast.Indiana, at least the part that we drove through, is pretty much cornfields for as far as the eye can see.
Indianapolis reminded me of hartford, but mostly because of the way the highway looked approaching it.
Illinois was more cornfields.
St. Louis looked like a pretty sweet city. Of course, we didn't stop. We were determined to just keep on pushing through.
In Missouri we saw one of those amazing western sunsets that are impossible to take a decent picture of.

when we got hungry, we started scanning the signs off the highway looking for something promising. we came across a billboard for a place called the missouri hick, which served barbecue and we decided to go for it. we took the exit as the billboard instructed, and found ourselves literally, in the middle of nowhere. when i attempted to turn around in someone's driveway, at least ten pitbulls came running from their yard at our car. the driveway that i finally managed to pull into did not have pitbulls, but rather hens and chickens everywhere, just roaming around as if they owned the place. it was slightly terrifying.
when we finally hit civilizationa again, we stumbled onto this place called matt's steakhouse .
seriously, if you are ever in missouri, go to this place. i promise you will not be disappointed. The decor is all cheesy 90's faux-upscale, with a waterfall in the middle and booths the size of a bed. And the steak....the steak completely redefined my idea about what a steak is supposed to taste like. we ordered the KC strip, which made the entire idea of a NY strip seem like a feeble joke. Also, they had these amazing breadsticks that bore an uncanny resemblance to fried dough.

After our amazing meal, we splurged and got a decent hotel to make up for the previous night's disaster. It was small and unremarkable, but we reveled in every detail, from the clean towels to the multitude of pillows. when you're far away from home, it's the little things like that make a difference.

love always

road trip, day one: CT, NY, PA, OH

2009-10-07T16:28:00.000-07:00

yes, I have arrived safe and sound, in my new home on the west coast. yes, it was a long, arduous, exciting, painful, exhilarating, gut-wrenching, liberating, action-packed adventure of a journey to get here. and yes, of course, I plan on at least attempting to tell you every juicy, little detail about it.
To start off, let me just say that the experience of leaving, actually getting in the car and driving away, was unlike any other. I mean, physically, it really, truly felt like my heart was being pulled in two different directions. I don't think it helped that our first day took us through new york and across pennsylvania, which was boring, cold, rainy and loooong.

When we finally stopped that day, it was in Ohio at a motel 6 that was so disgusting it completely redefined my understanding of the word skeevy. Aside from the bed, and the tv, the only furniture in the room was a small folding table with a chair in front of it that could not have possibly served any other purpose than as a surface for crushing and inhaling drugs. The sheets had cigarette burns in them. I woke up in the middle of the night, sat straight up in the rock-hard bed and cried. It was one of those nights I wasn't sure if I'd even make it through.

There was however, a ray of sunshine in the midst of all this doom and gloom. Somewhere in the middle of pennsylvania, we stopped at this adorable place called the twilight diner and ordered these:buffalo-style beer-battered jack and blue cheese sticks. yes, i'm fucking serious.

the whole place was like something out of a movie about where you'd wanna eat on a road trip.
and the food was so good that i'd almost consider doing it all again just to eat there.

love always

my heart will always live here

2009-09-28T19:22:00.000-07:00

this past week has been exactly everything i could've asked for when leaving the place i grew up. it was like all the things i love about being here happened in rapid succession, like the finale at the fireworks display. i will try my best to show you:
rose-petal-lychee-tini and cucumber martini at koji

tavern classic and truffle fries at plan b

mmm, cherries....

chicken tacos

vietnamese iced coffee

the durham fair, a ct classic

trade shows every two seconds

and of course every hug, every sad goodbye, every last second i got to spend with all the folks i love. see you all at xmas!

love always

retail therapy

2009-09-26T09:32:00.000-07:00

i know that the west hartford whole foods has way more stuff, but for some reason, the whole foods in glastonbury is my favorite. it feels somehow warmer. the lighting is less harsh and the merchandising is cleaner. plus, i'm there so often that all the boys who work in produce know me by name. i truly do have a deep, sentimental attachment to the place. it borders on freakish.
in all my moving-out-of-state madness, i felt it was important for me to pay tribute to the place where i've spent such a large majority of my time and money over the last couple years. so, i did what i usually do, which is go to whole foods, buy some stuff and make something.
my purchases. i decided to go with a salad, since i've been eating so much garbage lately (more on that later).

butter lettuce and cilantro

tossed with diced tomato, raw corn kernels, black beans, diced poblano pepper, and finely chopped onion. plus, a dressing made of fage, a bit of honey, some chipotle in adobo and lime juice.

i topped it all off with some diced aguacate for richness. you could also add some shredded cheddar or crumbled bacon, but like i said, i've been eating trash all week.

this is totally one of my favorite salads ever. it tastes really good and everything in it is really clean and good for you. i know that i'll still be able to make it once i move, but the fact that it comes from my original, hometown grocery store, makes it extra-special in my opinion.

love always

if you never read this, i still mean it

2009-09-21T10:55:00.000-07:00

have you ever found yourself wishing you could have a do-over? a second try at something that just didn't go your way?
last week i received an e-mail saying thank you for sharing your obvious passion for wine with us, after an interview in which i was caught terribly off-guard, and i couldn't help but wonder if it was perhaps, a bit sarcastic. in that moment, i found myself, for the first time as a result of fear, confusion and doubt, unable to articulate exactly how meaningful my chosen profession is to me.
over the years i have had many a revelatory experience in this field.
like on my first day at my first real wine job when i tasted the kim crawford sauvignon blanc and someone said grapefruit and i could actually taste that.
or how i thought that napa cab was a huge, overrated joke until i tasted the rich, heady terra valentine
or this moment when i tasted the cuvee louise from pommery and started to like my job again.
or the time when a friend and i ordered an entire bottle of anselmi i capitelli by the glass because it was just that freaking good.

the truth is, i am beyond passionate about wine, as anyone who has seen me run around a tasting shrieking "ohmigod, you have to try this!!!" can attest to. i'm emotionally attached in a way that borders on un-professional. and yes, there are days when i just wanna order a diet coke, but that's because i spend a good deal of time over-consuming, over-analyzing and over-working myself for the sake of what i do for a living.
if i was unable to convey this to a few select people, i would just like to state for the record: i love my job, i know my shit and if there's one thing i'm certainly not lacking, it's passion.

love always

sometimes you just know

2009-09-21T07:29:00.000-07:00

ahh, what a crazy, mixed-up world we live in. nothing is ever as it seems, at least for any fixed length of time. things change and evolve, shifting shape right before your very eyes just when you think you've got it all figured out. sometimes a situation can seem so certain, so right, so meant to be and then wham! out of nowhere mercury retrograde comes sweeping through in all it's stubborn reluctance to let go of the past and you're left standing in the ruins of what you thought was a really fucking good idea.
such is the nature of things, and also, exactly what happened to me this past week. i waited so long and i was so cautious, taking care not to jinx any opportunities or count my eggs before they hatched, but still it all went up in flames and now i'm left confused and uncertain, trying to make sense of a situation that's been blown completely out of my control. what can you do in times like these but sit and wait? try and be still and listen to your heart.
when i flew to san francisco a few weeks ago, i believed i was going to there to make an impression, to influence a decision. instead, what i discovered while i was there is that the decision does not truly matter. while it may be difficult to discern underneath the fear and uncertainty about what my future holds, there is one thing my heart knows for sure; i absolutely adore the entire bay area.

every time i leave, i tell myself that i imagined it. that no place in the world is truly as magical as i remember that place being, that i'm embellishing the memory. but no, at this point i truly don't think i am. this past visit, while cruising around berkeley and trying to get a feel for my new home, i stumbled, literally stumbled, onto this amazing treasure trove: a farmer's market, the likes of which i have never even imagined here in CT. trust me when i tell you, it makes my beloved whole foods look like a joke.
tomatoes, like jewels in every shape, size and color imaginable

squash that look like spaceships and a completely new discovery, the lemon cucumber!

a rainbow of peppers that you could literally smell like, a block away.

after the farmer's market, in need of refreshment, we stopped at the nearest coffee shop/bakery. forgive me, i can't remember the name, but it was really the most adorable thing.

we ordered iced coffee and a pistachio macaroon!!!!

the macaroon was perfect! floaty and sugary on the outside with a layer of creamy goodness in the middle.

yup! it was the macaroon that made my mind up for me. this is the place i wanna live.

love always

goodbye middletown, hello berkeley

2009-09-14T08:37:00.000-07:00

I've been holding off on posting because my mind as of late, has been occupied with some pretty huge news which i was not entirely certain would be a sure thing, but now it's official; i have been offered an amazing position with a large, respectable company in berkeley, and i will be moving to the bay area in approximately two weeks!!!!!!
as anyone would expect, i have a multitude of intense, deep-seeded, hard to decipher feelings regarding this change. i think it's been fairly obvious for quite some time that the small town i live in is not exactly the right place for me. that does not stop me however from feeling deeply attached to it, as well all the people who live here and who have shared and shaped my life for the past twenty-four years. there are aspects of being here which i will miss profoundly.

but as we all know, when one door closes, another inevitably opens and i cannot think of another place in the world where i would rather begin anew than the beautiful bay area. i hope that everyone who i was close with here in middletown will take the opportunity to come visit me in my new home and see exactly why i've become so enamored with this particular corner of the universe.

right now, it feels as if i've got one foot on the east coast and one on the west, as i search for new roommates, pack my old things and attempt to spend as much time as possible with the people whom i care about before i have to say goodbye. it is decidedly bitersweet; heart-wrenching, exciting, intoxicating, humbling, terrifying all at once, but there is no doubt in my mind that it is totally and completely right.
i searched for jobs high and low, on the east coast and the west and none, not one, worked out until this opportunity came along and showed me where i need to be. i had been sort of half-heartedly hoping to move west since i lost that evil job of which we no longer speak, but somehow the powers that be must have heard the half of my heart that wanted this and decided it was the right half because i literally could not have afforded to stay here even if i wanted to and when i visited berkeley a few days ago, i felt for the first time in years, at home in my own life.
middletown will always be my hometown and one of the best in the enitre world, simply because there are so many people here who have been so worth loving to the fullest extent of my ability. i promise to stay in touch and visit often and i hope you all know that i'll be keeping you with me, as close to my heart as possible as i embark on this new adventure.

love always

a diva is a female version of a hustler

2009-08-11T14:00:00.000-07:00

you may have noticed that there's been a general lack of blogging going on over here. allow me to explain: i have recently embarked on a perilous and passionate quest to find the best job ever.
what that entails to me (i assume it's different for everyone) is opportunity for rampant international travel, plus enough room for my ginormous creative spirit to stretch out in, and of course, an assload of moneys.
as you might imagine, jobs like this are not exactly easy to come by (especially in tough times like these). so, i implore you to please excuse my absence, while i search for this elusive dream. i promise i'll make it up to you later with riveting tales of my glamorous and exotic new career.

love always

channeling cher

2009-07-28T06:15:00.000-07:00

i remember distinctly, when the movie clueless came out. i was in fifth grade and it was the first time i became truly aware of the idea of personal style. up until then, i had experimented a bit with some ghetto-trashy fashion. even as a kid i was drawn to all the hoochie stuff. but it was alicia silverstone's cher who opened up my eyes to the fact that clothing can be just as artistic an outlet as painting, writing or dancing, and that you can use your image to tell the world all sorts of things about yourself.

from there i went wild, taking fashion risks, going through a goth phase, a glam phase, a slutty phase. i still phase in and out of different styles, tyring to find the one that works best for me, but i always look fondly back at that first phase, the one that started it all.

which is why i'm fixin to bring that shit back! i know that the nineties is experiencing a weird sort of resurgence in fashion lately anyways, so it's not like this is totally original of me, but still, somewhere deep inside, i've always been waiting for the day when i could rock my knee-hi's and plaid skirts with pride again.

now, all that's left to do is find an uber-hot, smarty-pants, paul rudd look-alike and my life will be complete.

love always

let's talk about baz luhrmann please

2009-07-26T16:45:00.001-07:00

i totally meant to write something about just how much i adore baz luhrmann right after i watched australia, but i never got around to it because i was too busy crying about how freaking adorable nullah is.

in any case, baz luhrmann is my favorite director ever, without a doubt. so when i read today that he's gonna be directing a movie version ofthe great gatsby, which is my favorite book ever, without a doubt, i pretty much did cartwheels all around my condo despite the sweltering heat and lack of a/c.
the tool who wrote the stupid article was concerned that the new version won't be "american" enough. if by american he means dull and polluted, then he's probably right. here's what's going to happen: baz luhrman is going to come in and make the whole thing into a huge fucking sparklefest. personally, i think this is a good thing.
i have never been let down by luhrmann's work. the images in his movies appeal to me on such a deep, subconscious level. they've been with me for so long and they mean so much to me, it's like you could use them to make a map of my heart.

love always

i have a new girlcrush

2009-07-25T05:05:00.000-07:00

i went to see beyonce on thursday night, and i must tell you, she was so insanely good. i'd never really given her a second thought before. i admired the fact that she has always been fearless about flaunting her curves, and i assumed that she must have a big heart to be able to get past the fact that jay-z is hands down, the ugliest human being on earth (no matter how rich and talented he is). i kept a few of her songs on my ipod for those days when i felt like being super girly, but would have never considered myself an actual fan.
then, by some brilliant stroke of luck, i somehow managed an invite to the super-special, private, vip party thrown by moet in the top box. in all honesty, i could have been seeing fucking nickelback and i probably would've still loved it because of a). the amount of champagne involved and b). the idea of being glared at enviously by the paltry masses who had to sit in regular old seats. if i had been able to figure out how to use the camera on my new phone, i would now be bombarding you with pictures of my insane glamouressness.
on the other hand, i think i would've been pretty floored by beyonce even if i was sitting in the worst seat in the house behind some fat, drunk guy who smelled like ass. the second that she came out, she owned that entire stadium. something about her energy is just larger than life. she had about eight million costume changes and everytime she left the stage you could literally feel her absence. when she smiled, i could see it from all the way up where i was sitting and it made me want to smile too.
her stage show, with all it's glitter and costumes and special effects felt like something i would've dreamed up as a little girl. she looked unapolagetically gorgeous, with all this fake wind blowing her long hair around, and she danced flawlessly the whole time in high heels. it was so over-the-top fabulous that i felt like i had been sucked into some kind of super-girly alternate universe (this is where i think all the moet had a big influence).

and that's the other thing, her performance was so female-centric and y'all just know how i go weak in the knees for the super-feminine. every single musician on her stage (all eight-hundred of them) was female and she made a point of mentioning that to the audience. she sang songs about loving yourself, being proud of your accomplishments, not needing anyone or anything else to survive. i think it was during the part where she asked the audience to sing irreplaceable when i realized that i was surrounded by a sold-out stadium full of girls all singing about how they don't need a man and feeling totally empowered by that.
it occured to me then, that beyonce is more than just a pop singer. she's a feminist icon, making room in this world for more girls to be sexy, glamorous, succesful, proud of the bodies that they were born with and still maintain their dignity, class and self-respect. how often does she mention the fact that she makes her own money without ever relying on a man? i never really noticed before, but it's like every two seconds. that is the message that i want my unborn daughters to hear; go out in the world and make your own way, so that you can make your own rules.

as you can probably tell, i left this show feeling so inspired, so empowered, so reassured and validated, that in the course of the past twenty-four hours i have become beyonce obsessive. songs that used to sound like pop fluff to me, now sound like pure musical genius for no other reason than that they make me feel good. and everyone knows that the world could certainly use a little more of that.

love always

bring on the karma baby!

2009-07-19T11:51:00.000-07:00

on the 21st of this month, there's supposed to be a huge solar eclipse. the longest of the 21st century! unfortunately, all us middletown folk will not be able to see it. it will be visible only to people living in china or the pacific ocean, who i am now insanely jealous of.
according to penny thornton whose horoscopes i follow obsessively on astrolutely , "eclipsed new moons bring new beginnings, which is an entirely positive process, however, the way those new beginnings come in could be disturbing. if you go along with the notion of karma- the spiritual law of cause and effect- you might like to think of eclipses as karmic points- periods in which the harvest of past actions is reaped, and the seeds of of future events are sown."
normally this sort of proclamation would send me into a panic, obsessing over every little thing i've done wrong and wondering in what awful ways god would choose to smite me, but for some reason, i'm cool with it. when i look back at my past actions, i feel pretty happy. i'm no angel, but especially recently, i think i've run my life with a fair bit of integrity, grace and compassion. i may have had my ups and downs, but i've worked really hard to not betray myself and that, i think is what makes for the best karma.

love always

it's all about me, me, me, me, me!

2009-07-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

when i was in something like sixth grade, i had this shirt from contempo casuals that said worship me like the goddess i am. it was pink and adorable. the only problem was that the words were written in this elaborate cursive scrawl that was a bit hard to make out and so people would always come up to me and be like "who's the goddess jam? i never heard of her..." and i'd just be like "duh, loser, it says 'worship me the like the goddess i am' so, you know, get on your knees bitch"

i'm not even exagerating. i was like that all the time as a preteen, and most of the time as a full-blown teen as well. then, something happened. call it whatever you want. getting lame. getting old. getting a conciense. one day, i just went too far and i hurt someone who i cared about and all of a sudden i became aware of other people's feelings, and then the next thing you know, i was taking responsibility for other people's feelings, and soon after that, there was no room left for my own feelings, so i pushed them off to the side and with them went my self-esteem, my lust for life, my faith in god, not to mention my sex-drive, my social life and a whole slew of other things that no longer seemed important. i was being noble. i was being humble. i was doing the right thing .
and eventually i would be rewarded for it
but i wasn't rewarded for it. i don't know what i expected, except maybe for the sky to open up and shower me with blessings, but it sure wasn't happening. even worse, i found that when i neglected my own feelings to pick up the slack for others, they rarely did the same for me. still for some sick reason, i perservered. i was determined to be selfless, because i thought of that as a good thing.
now, i look at that word and it seems so accurate. self less. without my self, there was less of everything. less love. less fun. less faith. the truth is, i ain't no martyr. i do really, genuinely want everyone in the whole world to be happy, but if you gave me a choice between my own hapiness and that of another person, and i made that choice genuinely and from the heart, i'd choose myself, one-hundred percent of the time.
and is that really such a bad thing? i'm not saying that there aren't people who i care about in this world. i'm not saying that there aren't sacrifices worth making. i'm just saying that truly, no sacrifice is worth making if it doesn't eventually contribute to my own hapiness. no person is worth so much of what's mine that there's none left over for me. after all i've been through, the hard truth i've finally learned is that if i abandon myself to care for another, no one's going to pick up the slack for me. if i don't look out for myself, no one else will.

there's a word we generally use for someone who understands this: self-centered. in our culture, we throw this word around like in a derogatory manner, accusing people of being self-centered when we want to guilt them into doing something for us. but if we really look at this word, if we take it apart, we're left with self, as in self esteem, self worth, self actualization, to thine own self be true, and then another word: centered.
doesn't that kind of sound like it'd be better for all of us?

love always

fancy footwork

2009-07-09T20:36:00.000-07:00

for some reason they were playing this video at my gym today and i couldn't help but swoon over these amazing moves:

i've had a thing for mr. pop since i was a kid and my momma used to lay in front of the stereo and daydream while listening to candy, which is totally my favorite song ever. in fact, i have this crazy fantasy where i meet my soulmate and the only way i know he's my soulmate is because he knows all the words to that song and we totally sing it together just like in a musical.

short shorts, fat ass

2009-07-08T07:02:00.000-07:00

it's finally summer here. the sun is shining. the birds are singing. the rain has slowed to just one eensy-weensy little thunderstorm a day (trust me, this an improvement). all in all, i should be a pretty happy girl, right? i should have little to nothing to complain about, correct?
nope. never!
my latest qualm was actually brought on by the beautiful weather, which has reminded of one of life's little injustices that i never fully could accept:
my complete inability to wear shorts.
for years, i avoided even the mention of them. why? because the second i put them on my big, cuddly ghetto-booty takes one look at them and goes oh! what a cute little pair of shorts you are! let me give you a hug! om nom nom nom! and then proceeds to swallow them whole so that all that's left is a tiny swatch of fabric sticking out of the vast landscape of my bare asscheeks.
now, i've tried some basic solutions i.e., buy a bigger size, shop in the old lady department, avoid anything fabrics that might be prone to riding up. apparently, nothing works. case in point: i recently bought a pair of sturdy denim shorts two sizes too big and a few inches too long. i'm talking grandma style. my mom even borrowed them from me once, reasurring my initial assumption that coochie cutters, these are not. so i wore em out last week and i'm walking towards my friends car and she starts screaming out the window "damn girl! put some clothes on you little slut!" later, after much scowling, sulking and pouting from me she's like "you know i was just kidding right?" and i'm thinking yeah, sure you were.
now normally, i wouldn't sweat it that much, but the situation brought back a seriously painful memory for me. a few years ago, my current beau and i decided to grab a pizza and spend the night in. i wore a sexy little pair of velour booty shorts, hoping to seduce him. so when we went to go pick up the pizza down the street, the owner/manager of the pizza place who happens to be an aqaintance of ours is like "um, excuse me but your ass is hanging out. i can see your buttcheeks. you might want to put some clothes on" and of course, i'm completely mortified! i was just trying to look nice for my boyfriend, and on top of that, it's not like i'm the first woman to ever wear a pair of short shorts. once we got in the car, i told my boyfriend how embarassed i was and he was just like "bae, what do you expect when you dress like a slut?" EXCUSE ME, MOTHERFUCKER, BUT I WORE THOSE FOR YOU!!!!!
i now realize that it takes a huge d-bag to make a comment like that, and an even bigger d-bag to not have his girl's back, but still, the memory of it shames me and induces massive amounts of cringing, not to mention a strong aversion to ever wearing shorts again.
the problem is, i like shorts! who the fuck wants a pair of skinny jeans hugging up on your thighs in ninety degree heat? plus, the fashion possibilities are endless! shorts with tights, shorts with knee-his, shorts with boots. but no matter how i wear em, i always end up looking like this guy:

*le sigh*

love always

fluffems stylie

2009-06-27T08:35:00.000-07:00

one of the best things about my vacation in puerto rico, was all the packing. i spent weeks figuring out what to bring, finding the perfect swimsuit, sundress, denim shorts, floppy hat...
what cracks me up, is that fluffems felt the exact same way. he even went so far as to insist that i take numerous different pictures of him, in each of his carefully selected getups, a task that i was more than happy to complete. fluffems' sense of style has become a source of great amusement to me. he is one of the few males i've ever encountered whose fashion risks rival my own.
in the beggining, i was a bit put off by some of the items in his wardrobe. i even went so far as throw away a few choice garments one day when he wasn't at home. since then, however, i've learned to accept his style for what it is. after all, i'd rather be seen with someone whose style clearly shows personality, even if it is a bit ridiculous at times, than someone who always looks bland and boring. in this way, i've come to think of his more, *ahem*, "outlandish" pieces as funny and endearing.
here's an example of a piece that would've ended up at the salvation army. yes, that is a pikachu t-shirt, and it was clearly made for someone about half his size and a quarter of his age.

in this ensemble fluff is trying to channel the spirit of a ten year old girl by simultaneously wearing knee-his and posing like he's in ballet class.

fluff was so excited to finally get to meet his style icon, zac effron. his brother ernie was pretty into it as well.

fluffems' style trademark is none other than the kangol. he has one in every single color known to man. he even has a department store style hat-rack, complete with fake heads, for storing them all.

i must admit, he does clean up pretty nicely, and he is kinda dreamy.

and last but not least, here is my favorite picture of fluff ever, ever, in which he proves how gangsta he really is, depsite the fact that he's wearing women's sunglasses (mine). also, he's wearing a bright blue bowtie which he decided was a good idea after seeing one on some kid from the disney channel. still though, he's a total badass. i doubt that there's anyone else in the world who could put on this same outfit and wear it with as much sauvidad as he can. in the end, that's one of the things i love about him the most. his style is always, one-hundred-percent, utterly and completely his own.

love always

p.s. thanks to k @ blog goggles for giving me the inspiration for this post.

R.I.P. M.J.

2009-06-25T19:30:00.000-07:00

i was never a huge fan of michael jackson to be honest. when i was a kid, the video for thriller scared the bejesus out of me and i never quite forgave him for that. i do, however, have fond memories of this:

best dance video ever made!!!!!!!!! those who dare to disagree with me can kick rocks.

love always

p.s. - i totally forgot that eddie murphy was in this video, which makes it even better.

daddy's day

2009-06-21T09:24:00.000-07:00

every year on father's day, i make my father dinner. i drive up to his apartment with my car full of groceries and force him to gorge himself on the type of greasy, bad-for-you fare that he normally attempts to stay away from. only this year, i can't. i can't make my dad dinner on father's day because he is no longer just a car ride away. he's in a strange and distant land otherwise known as california. so, while everyone i know is planning some sort of grand tribute to their fathers (or their baby's fathers), i'm left wishing that i got to spend father's day with my daddy.
you know how some people grew up taking their father's for granted? i never really had that problem. with a father like mine, that would be kind of impossible. my dad was everything a dad was supposed to be; practicing softball with me when i wanted to try out for little league, showing up to every single dance recital and school play i was ever in (trust me, there were many), hating on any boys who dared to think they might be good enough to date me. even when my parents split up, my father was never the absent type. he encouraged me, supported me and loved me through every awkward phase and minor drama exactly the way a good father should.
the most important thing my father did for me however, goes far beyond the realm of basic parental nurturing. in short, my father showed me how to live.
my father is, and always has been, a free spirit. never one to conform, he sold drugs in high school and wasted his college years on art. even crazier, he was the only man brave enough to impregnate my mom (she's a crazy bitch, but, you know, the good kind).
the thing is, my father could have so easily fallen into that whole flaky artist/slacker thing that's so common amongst the creative folk, but he didn't. my dad holds a steady, respectable job (i think his official title is evil computer genius), in addition to finding time for more fulfilling pursuits such as teaching pottery to teenagers, going rowing with his girlfriend and learning to speak spanish. and yes, he's still an amazing father, sometimes taking up to ten phone calls a day from my whiny ass.
i'm not saying that he's superman or anything, but my daddy ain't no slouch! he takes his responsibility as a human being very seriously. he operates with a firm concsience and an open heart. he does what he feels is right rather than making excuses to do what he wants when it's wrong. he communicates openly and honestly with the people he loves. and most importantly, he lives passionately, taking risks and daring to love deeply no matter how many times he's been hurt or knocked down.
in a world that can be at times, so harsh and so cold, i feel so infinitely grateful to have been blessed with such a strong male role model. in my most difficult and desperate moments, i look to my father as a reminder that love exists, that people can be good, and that it's possible to live a life outside the norms of society without giving up one's integrity and ambition.
i'm finally coming to a place in my life where i feel happy to be who i am. i look back at all the events that have led me here and i can't help but feel that i owe so much of my progress to my father. nobody else in this world could have raised me the way that he did. even though he's not here for me to say it to in person, i still feel like so lucky to have such an excellent father to honor today.

daddy, i miss you so much today. i wish i could spend father's day with you, but since i can't, my second wish is for you to know that i love you more than words could ever express.
happy father's day!!!!

love always

june gloom

2009-06-20T07:48:00.000-07:00

lately, the weather in lovely ct has been absolutely poisonous. eerily dreary and stiflingly humid. just walking outside feels toxic. my friends keep getting sick and everyone looks like they have storm clouds under their eyes.
it's time like these i think, where i grow the most. stay indoors and curl up, into myself where i can remember the answers i already knew. feel the way my heart beats at the center.....
in other words, i feel all angsty and goth and emo and like, fourteen years old or something! wtf sun, why you gotta be all non-existent and shit?! get your ass in gear and shine on us before i start writing poetry again....
or indulging in crap like this:

or even worse, this:

love always

this is what my summer smells like...

2009-06-19T08:25:00.001-07:00

(having actually received my order, i had to delete my last post and start all over. i did not feel that i truly did this topic justice.)
you know how they say that scent is the sense most closely tied to memory? for me, that idea explains a lot. i have a hard time letting go of my memories and i often use scent, in a very personal way, to re-create moments that would otherwise be lost. like for example, i started wearing the escada summertime line (rockin' rio, sunset heat, etc.) during one of those times in my life when everything was giddy and ecstatic and meaningful. i subsequently made a connection between the smell of escada and my own happiness, which eventually turned into a morbid superstition that my life would turn to shit if i did not wear escada. (have i mentioned that i can be a bit dramatic at times?)
these days i do my best to avoid irrational superstitions. i have still however, maintained a great fascination with the concept of fragrance, and have continued to search for scents that make me swoon. so when i stumbled on the website for black phoenix alchemy lab it was pretty much infatuation from the gate.
black phoenix alchemy lab, or bpal as it's affectionately referred to by it's devotees, is a company that hand blends scented oils to create fragrances like no other. with names that run the gammut from the mystical to the taboo to the downright creepy, and scent descriptions that read like softcore porn, they go beyond the world of perfume and into that creative territory known as art. what can i say? i'm weak for this kind of this shit.
apparently, i'm not the only one who feels this way. there is an entire forum dedicated to discussing and analyzing the intricacies of these unique scents, complete with reviews, reccomendations and bottle swaps. at first glance, it may seem a bit obsessive to some folks, but considering that i make a respectable living off sniffing an entirely different kind of bottle, it makes perfect sense to me.
it's been said that each blend changes depending on the body chemistry of the person who's wearing it, in addition to numerous other factors such as time of the month and bottle age. i think perhaps, that this is what attracts me the most; the idea that each scent is highly personal and completely unique. i've tried a handful of scents, and i don't love them all. but the ones that i do love smell like they were made specifically for me. (so far, to my nose, bon vivant, shattered, and queen mab smell like a fucking orgasm in a church.)
these fragrances are so much more than just pretty smells. they're scents that tell a story, that have something to say, that evoke an emotion or a memory and isn't that what we're all looking for in a perfume? a scent that defines who we are, that sends a message to those around us? these are scents that make people feel something.

love always

cheesy song AND a cheesy boy crush

2009-06-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

um, so i'd kinda be down to fuck lil' wayne. you know, like, if i was given the chance or whatever. i mean, admitting to this does make me feel like a pedophile and all, but there's just something about him.....

like when i first heard that young money song, i was all enraged like who the fuck do you think you are trying to fuck every single girl in the world?! that's just gross!!! but then i heard that part where lil' wayne's all like anyway, i think you're bionic and i don't think you're beautiful, i think you're beyond it, and i just melted. i couldn't help it. dude is charming. he probably could fuck every girl in the world and i'd be in line right behind the rest of 'em.

love always

holy hangover!!!!!!

2009-06-14T05:30:00.000-07:00

last night was steff's birthday party! And......
i can't tell you much more about it because within like, the first hour i got stupid drunk off of a combination of red wine, spiked punch, beer and sweet tea vodka. yum!
i did however, discover that apparently people actually check this thing! so i'd like to take a moment and appreciate my loyal readers

the amazing thing about this picture is that vinnie was looking away when i took it, but somehow managed to look back and vogue for me as soon as he saw the flash.

and of course, the lovely amy who also gets her nails did at palm nails.

thanks for reading guys!

love always

k, i'm done now

2009-06-11T07:25:00.000-07:00

i've realized that the monogomaus relationship with writing about puerto rico that i've committed myself to is not really working out. frankly, i'm just not ready settle down like that. maybe someday i'll write a fucking book about it, but for now, i need to be free to explore my blogging options and write about whatever i damn well please.
perhaps in the future we'll get back together, or maybe we'll enjoy a couple of one-night stands when i'm feeling particularly sentimental about it. i'm not sure that i'm ready to let it go completely....
for now, in the interest of having some closure here's some pretty pictures of what we did.
our hotel again, but seriously, that shit was beautiful.

this is me on the previously discussed horse, of which my bar patrons are so envious.

the cemetery. in puerto rico it's important to have sauvidad even in the after life.

bananas plus crazy looking tropical flower, and this is just in fluff's abuela's backyard.

vieques. sometimes i wonder if i dreamed this part.

yup, it's the jungle! but it's also fluff's other abuela's backyard.

okay, now onto more relevant topics....

love always

vega baja

2009-05-29T11:01:00.000-07:00

i must tell you about vega baja, which i have decided, is the most armpit-ey place i have ever visited (sorry new rochelle). vega baja is located on a mountain. i assume, because of the name that it's at the bottom of the bottom, but i assure you, that doesn't make the possibility of falling off any less terrifying. and in vega baja that actually is a very real possibility because of the one lane road that zig-zags cartoonishly up the side of the mountain. you have to beep when rounding a corner so that anyone who might be on the other side knows you're coming.
we ended up in vega baja after our expedition to old san juan. we were trying to find morovis, the town in which fluff's family is located, but when our gps decided to spazz out and stop working, we ended up in vega baja instead. i wish i had thought to take better pictures, but we were completely lost, with no cell phone service, and emotions were running high.
the thing that sucks about being lost in vega baja is that there is nothing but houses, or rather, i should say shacks. there are no defining characteristics. no place to stop and ask for directions. just one broken down shanty after another. at one point we saw a row of cars parked all the way down the road and we got ou hopes up, but when we drove by, we found that it was just a larger shack, inside of which they were apparently holding cock fights. we were all too scared to park and get out right there. (even fluff, who is truly a fearless warrior).
finally we found a bodega across the street from a negocio, where we managed to get spotty cell phone reception. we tried asking for directions, but they looked at us like we were crazy, even though three of my fellow travelers speak fluent spanish and were literally born right down the street from where we were.
finally we managed to get in touch with fluff's dad and explain to him where we were. the instructions he gave us were to wait for him, he would come to us. so we parked outside the negocio and ordered beers for $1, which they let us bring into our car. we watched a toothless drunk sitting outside with a stray dog in his lap attempt to get up and promptly fall on his ass. finally, fluff's dad showed up with his aunt netty, who instructed us to follow her and then got us the hell out of vega baja, going like, 90 around all those scary curves.

love always

old san juan suavidad

2009-05-28T05:56:00.000-07:00

did y'all happen to check out my sassy threads in the last post?
let's take a closer look:

bright green day dress from marshall's, about $15

ginormous floopy hat from forever 21 , about $10

sparkly necklace from some souvenir shop in old san juan, about $8

that beatific i'm in fucking puerto rico glow,

priceless!

love always

old town

2009-05-19T20:08:00.000-07:00

On the second day, I decided that i'd like to see old san juan. my grandmother had been raving about it to me since childhood. she used to vacation in puerto rico and it was all beautiful, she'd say, but oh, how she loved old san juan, with the cobblestone streets and the quaint little shops and the big, ruined castles that they let you walk around in.
so in much the same fashion that i decided i'd like to go swimming and found, like some sort of miracle, that my wish had been granted, i decided, that very same day, that i'd like to see old juan and found myself en route just a few short hours later.
i was feeling quite romantic about this particular expedition, what with my grandmother's wistful descriptions, and the fact that i was still swooning over the idea that i was actually on a real life tropical island and all. even when the blue sky turned gray and threatened to pour rain all over my plans, even when fluff fell asleep on the way and then snapped at me when i tried to wake him up to look at the amazing scenery, i still felt romantic.
i didn't start feeling unromantic in fact, until the hunger set in. we had been driving in and out of san juan for the past fifteen minutes trying to find a parking spot, but all i could think about was eating.
when we finally did park, we walked straight towards the square in the center of town and looked around, hoping to find sustenance. since we were on a mission to eat only the most authentic, greasy, grimey puerto-rican food, we settled on a place marked san juan food court. unfortunately, it was two in the afternoon and all the vendors in the court had already put away their food for the afternoon. i consoled myself by drinking a coconut full of rum.

after the coconut, we became briefly distracted by all the absolutely outrageous tchockis in the overpriced souvenir shops, but quickly returned to our quest for food. after searching for about twenty minutes, we came to the conclusion that the only food available in san juan was ridiculously overpriced and decidedly not puerto-rican. we settled on a tapas restaurant called toro salao where i was finally able to order a salad. i thought that the food was awesome, but everyone else ordered croquetas with jamon serrano and then complained that the ham tasted weird.(i got my revenge later that afternoon when i sullked the entire time we were in senor frogs, a tourist trap where they sell you frozen drinks for eighteen dollars that don't even get you drunk.)

my favorite part of the day though, was when we visited the castillo de san cristobal and pretended that it was a playground.

love always

golden sands

2009-05-17T16:49:00.000-07:00

i can still remember every tiny little detail about our hotel.
driving through the gate where they would occasionally stop us and ask where we were going, as though they actually gave a fuck about our security. past the tree with the ginormous nest in the branches, housing god only know's what.

down the long strip of palm trees and golf course, past the toughest, meanest-looking ducks i have ever seen
(at least i think that's a duck)

to our perpetually full parking lot, where we would park in the corner and hop over the fence and onto the walkway that led to our suite (2192-2194).

i remember how unbearably cold it always was in our room and how we would rush to get back outside, because who the fuck wants to spend their tropical vacation shivering in a hotel room?
i remember waking up early and drinking coffee on our patio, thinking to myself how much i'd like to go swimming and then realizing that not only was this a completely viable option, but i had a choice between a pool or the ocean! (i ended up choosing both- first the ocean, then the pool)

one day we decided to explore our beach, walking to the edge where all the rocks were.

what we found was like another world. all these tiny creatures i'd never seen before
hermit crabs that were much, much bigger than any i've found in the northeast.

baby snails in brighter colors than i even knew existed in nature

flower-like creatures that opened and closed of their own accord.

we even found a plant that looked like nothing but a pile of curly grass, but when you touched it, would curl in on itself and almost dissapear.

and of course the flowers

and the palm trees

and the cocconuts
(and the silly boys i was staying with)

i've never traveled so far in my life, but somehow, at the end of the day, this always felt like home.

love always

numero uno

2009-05-16T07:43:00.000-07:00

I'm writing this from my beautiful suite at the golden sands resort in dorado, puerto rico, although, you won't be reading it for at least another week. We have no wi-fi here. Still, it felt important to me to document this in real time. I've spent a vast majority of my time on earth so far in the same small town, so any change from that is still a bit of a novelty to me.

I must say, it's a huge relief to be warm and secure under clean white hotel sheets, with disney channel playing in the background. It's been a long, hard journey getting here. Although, I did a lot better than the last time I flew. I actually only felt nauseous for about ten minutes on our first flight. The hard part this time was not in the flying itself, but rather in the departing of middletown for the airport.

I had to work last night, so while fluff enjoyed a relaxing farewell dinner, I was staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until I was officially allowed to slip into vacation mode. Naturally, the second that I got out, I called him in a frenzy like, dude, i'm ready to go!!!! and he's all nah son, I gotta finish dinner and get a haircut. At ten o'clock at night he had to get a haircut! (granted, his brother was the one cutting his hair, but still) For some reason, this irked me beyond belief. When I finally got to his house, I was already all cranky, and then to add insult to injury, fluff's brother in the next room, decided that the correct way to prepare for a five am flight to puerto rico is to watch the fast and the furious at max volume, so I got zero hours of sleep. When it was finally time to go, it felt like pulling teeth trying to get these dudes in the god damned car and we were of course, sprinting to our gate at the last second.

Of course it was all worth it. By no means am I complaining even one little bit. I could've come here crammed into the trunk of a car, and I still would've been ecstatic to be here. I'm just trying to paint a picture of how confused, and stressed and just absolutely raw I felt. Case in point; I watched bolt on the plane, and absolutely lost it. I'm talking sniffling, tears, the whole nine. The grumpy puerto-rican dude in the seat next to me was looking at me like what the hell is your problem woman?!

As we were descending, we were still over the ocean, so we got an absolutely amazing view of the coast on the way in. when we landed, the whole plane burst into applause (fluff says: only in puerto rico). So, we got off the plane and everything was in spanish! I know that to most people that's probably a given, but i've never been anywhere where english is not the primary language. It just felt so insane to see ads for things like mcdonalds, only in a different language than the one i'm so used to.

Outside, it was pouring. Worse than in ct even! I hardly noticed though, I was so wrapped up in just looking around. The best word I can think of to describe what I was looking at: green. Everywhere. Things growing out of the sides of mountains, along fences and buildings, even in san juan, which is by no means rural.

On the way to our hotel we spotted a truck with pastel pink rims selling food by the side of the road and nearly got ourselves killed pulling a u-turn just to get to it. We ate alcapurias doused in goya hot sauce and a pionono, which was by far, the best street food i've ever tried in my life. Crispy flaky dough surrounding a filling of ground seasoned meat and fried platano. It was beyond perfect. The salty, spicy meat and then soft, sticky-sweet plaintain, all crowned with that golden flaky dough.

Our hotel was, perhaps, the most pleasant surprise of my life. We paid a relatively small amount of money for a villa here, and after reading numerous online reviews that described the place as “out-of-date” and “sub-par”, we weren't expecting much. So imagine our surprise to find our suite was huge and comfortable with five beds, a kitchen complete with dishwasher, two bathrooms (one with a jacuzzi) and two patios, both overlooking this:

never in my wildest dreams did I ever think i'd be this fortunate.

the hotel also has an astounding pool, with waterfalls, jacuzzis and a sweet little bar in the center.It seemed imperative that we hit up this bar immediately, in order
to make it clear to ourselves and everyone else that we were officially on vacation. We ordered an assortment of tropical drinks, my favorite being the black cocconut (j.w. black and coconut water-yum!).

The other place that we drank has a name, but I don't know it. It's on the main strip in dorado, and is identifiable by a large sign that states simply patio bar. But to call it a patio bar is a drastic understatement. There are actually two patios. One high and high lower, both shaded by lush greenery, and the place smells like fucking gardenias and jasmine, which I know sounds like something of weetzie bat, but I swear, it's the truth. We ordered these amazing fried cheese cubes, somewhat akin to mozzarella sticks, only served with a sauce of mashed garlic, mayo and ketchup, which, believe it or not, is my new favorite condiment.

Totally drunk, totally overwhelmed, completely exhausted, we came back to our hotel and slept like babies, eased into dreaming by the lullaby of the coquis. I woke up in the morning a bit dissoriented for a second. I sat up in bed and thought where the fuck am I? And then I remembered.

Paradise.

love always

warning!

2009-05-14T20:43:00.000-07:00

i returned home to soggy, rainy connecticut early this morning after spending the past week in puerto rico. i worked a double, with only an hour long break to deposit my check into my empty bank account. i felt a sharp, stabbing pang in my chest everytime i remembered that this time yesterday i was somewhere else. needless to say, i'm a bit melancholy about being here.
the past week was everything a vacation could possibly hope to be; good, bad, rainy, sunny, humid, exhausting, emotional, unreal, exciting, terrifying, frustrating. i have stories to tell, pictures to show, moments to relive. i'm still in the process of digesting it all.
at the moment it seems pretty unlikely that i will want to write about anything besides this trip for what may seem like an unreasonably long time to some of you. for this i appologize in advance and offer up my sincerest hopes that it doesn't get old too quickly.

these are words that i need to write.

love always

i'm making a fashion statement

2009-04-29T18:44:00.000-07:00

so they fired my friend shelly at work, and now i have to tend bar. this is good for a few reasons, namely that my primary expertise is in the consumption of alcohol, and also that i get to wear my own clothes instead of some dumb-ass, manly uniform.
it is also bad for a few reasons. i go to work earlier and stay a bit later, so my free-time has been minimized by a significant percentage. worse than that though is the large contingent of pervy guys who are regular customers at the bar.

some of them are really nice. i mean, they're not all terrible. there are a few gentleman who come in and talk with me, tell me i'm attractive, offer to take me out sometime, but know, in their hearts, that i will never actually date them. one of my favorite customers has made a game of trying to feed me the absolute worst pick-up lines, because he knows it cracks me up.
there's even a guy who comes to the bar, who i totally would go out with, if he got the balls to ask me.
then there are the desperate ones. the guys who have deluded themselves into thinking that i'm uber nice to them because i want them, and not because i work in customer service. i've started wearing my most conservative career clothes from my sales days in an effort to convince them that i am a frumpy, uptight bitch. it hasn't worked. at all. now they just say things like i love a classy woman and did ya dress up cuz ya knew that i was comin in?
the worst came the other day when a group of them was asking me about my upcoming vacation and i told them i was planning on going horseback riding. the grossest one out of all them of course, had to say this:
man am i jealous of that horse, hehe.
i was absolutely horrified! keep in mind that i can be kind of slow when it comes to shit like that, and so i'm sitting there thinking why is he jealous of the....OH!...eeeewww. i had to stop myself from gagging right in his face. and that was my frumpiest day of all. i wore a knee-length, collared, shirt-dress, that is literally shaped like a paper bag.
that night i was driving home from work, racking my brain for some way to get the message across to these guys, when it finally came to me:

i'm rocking this shit at work from now on. because nothing says i don't want to fuck you like the snuggie.

love always

something must be done

2009-04-22T10:12:00.000-07:00

caprese salads get on my fucking nerves. don't get me wrong, i'm fully aware that the combination of tomato, mozzarella and basil can be absolutely sublime. it's just that when your restaurant is still serving this dish in the dead of winter, with pale, grainy beefsteak tomatoes and chewy, leathery old mozzarella, i think you're kind of missing the point.
still people insist on ordering this shit. trust me, we serve it at my job. what's even worse is when people add other stuff to it. like on our menu, you can add chicken, shrimp, salmon or scallops to any of our salads, and people order the caprese salad with scallops! i'm not even kidding you. in fact, on my first day of work i asked one of the other servers what i should order and she actually suggested this very combination to me!
i ordered it like she told me to because i'm a pussy and i hate to make other people feel bad, but the whole time i kept thinking damn these scallops would taste pretty blazin' if i didn't have all this tomato obstructing the flavor. i don't know what it is, but i just happen to think that tomatoes bring out the worst in seafood.
still, people continue to order this horrid concoction. my guess is that they love the cheese. i mean, we rarely see fresh mozarella offered in any other incarnation. so here's my solution:
first buy the best mozarella you can get your hands on. how will you know which one is the best? easy. it's the one that traveled the least amount of miles to get to you.
next, sear some sacllops in a super hot pan with just a microscopic drizzle of olive oil. i like a nice brown crust on my scallops, but you can cook them for as long or as little as you like. also, size does not matter as much as you think it does when it comes to scallops. the little guys are just as tasty as those ginormous monsters that cost a fortune.
once your scallops are cooked to your liking, splash some olive oil onto a plate and place your scallops on top. break off a chunk of mozzarella and put that on the plate too. top it all of with some lovely avocado slices, as avocado pairs beautifully with both mozarella and seafood. sprinkle some sea salt and lemon and you're good.
so much better than that crap you've been paying ten bucks a plate for at the faux-italian restaurant down the street....despite the fact that i work there.

love always

karen o. is the new siouxsie sioux

2009-04-16T19:56:00.001-07:00

can someone please explain to me why karen o. wasted everyone's time moaning and groaning like a cat in heat on 2003's fever to tell, when underneath all that racket, she totally had it in herself to be this androgynous, avant-garde disco-queen?
on songs like zero and heads will roll, she totally reminds me of siouxsie sioux, who is like the queen supreme of androgynous, avant-garde disco.
clearly, i'm into it.

love always

the craziest easter ever yo!

2009-04-12T18:12:00.000-07:00

today is easter. i have no clue what that's really all about since i was raised to fear catholicism. what i do know is this:
some people think that easter is like a knockoff version of the pagan holiday eostre, which is basically a celebration of the fact that it's fucking nice out finally.
also, easter is a day set aside for feasting on all the cute baby vegetables that grow in spring.
for these two reasons alone, i am down with easter.
i really wanted to wear a frilly, pink, layer-cake of a dress just like when i was five, but i didn't feel like that would be received so well at our yearly family easter dinner, so i wore this instead:

-blue rose-garden print cardigan from forever 21
-black babydoll tee from h & m
-the only pair of skinny jeans that actually fits over my ass from marshalls
-and some fake-ass native american fringey boots, also from forever 21
i topped it all off with a spritz of victoria's secret double body mist in candy baby, which smells just like marshmallow peeps and is therefore the official scent of easter.
the day started off perfect. i downed a few glasses of wine, ate about a pound of caviar, and was just sitting down to a fabulous looking easter dinner, when wham! the inevitable drama of being with my family came to what i just might call an all-time high (or low, depending on how you look at it)
seriously, words cannot do justice to the shitstorm that went down in my house on this holiest of days. one thing i love about my family though is that after everything was said and done with, we all ate cake and laughed hysterically about it.
now that's what i call a good old-fashioned holiday!

love always

forget sarah marshall, i'd rather have mila kunis

2009-04-09T12:34:00.000-07:00

i've been avoiding this movie for quite some time now. from what i could gather, it was just annother american pie knockoff (and i didn't even like the original!), filled with sexist, immature bathroom humor, and lots of naked chicks. needless to say, my prude, feminist ass does not do well with that sort of thing. sunday however, i was so emotionally wasted/hungover that when fluff put it on i didn't even bother to argue, assuming that i'd fall asleep before i caught anything that seriously offended me. thus, i was pleasantly surprised when i not only stayed awake for the entire time, but i also kind of enjoyed watching it.
don't get me wrong now, it was exactly everything i thought it would be. the first half of the movie is spent building a case for why the title character is such a ginormous, evil uber-slut for cheating on protagonist peter, and then "moving on too quickly" after they broke up. yet, in the second half, he cheats on his new girlfriend, rachel, and the movie closes with her forgiving him. can you say double fucking standard?
in addition to that, peter is a total d-bag. when sarah is basically like "dude, i broke up with you because you let yourself go and sat around the apartment eating fucking fruit loops all day, and being a huge waste of oxygen", i can totally relate to her. i would've broken up with his sorry ass too.
here's why the movie is even remotely enjoyable: mila kunis as rachel. to say that she was compelling would be a gross understatement. she was charming, feisty, sensual, witty, passionate, genuine, way too good for that jack ass peter and oh yeah, she was totally fucking hot.
now, i'm not the type to usually say that about females. i've had my fair share of lesbian experiences, and trust me when i say that they did not turn out so well. every once in a while though, there's that one random girl who just totally does it for me. mila kunis' character in this movie just so happens to fall into that category.
it's also worth mentioning the fact that i think russel brand did a fabulous job as well. i saw him host the mtv vmas last year and he was a total trainwreck. in this movie however, he plays up these subtle nuances in his character that make him come off as endearing, rather than obnoxious. for example, when he breaks up with his girlfriend, he seems ever so slightly bummed, whereas i think most actors would've played that part as though he didn't even give a shit. he added some depth to the role, which was nice.
so rather than actually getting invested in the story, i spent the duration of the movie fantasizing about a threesome with mila kunis and russell brand. kinky, yes, but it just goes to show that even in the shitiest of shitshows there is occasionally some tasty little morsel worth staying awake for......or lusting over.

love always

about that waitressing gig....

2009-04-08T18:18:00.000-07:00

'member when i wrote all that mess about being psyched to start waitressing again? let me just state for the record that i was absolutely right. on the whole, my waitressing job is fan-fucking-tastic! you may check out the website for the restaurant that i'm working at here . notice how a vast majority of the items on our menu are organic? me likey. and yes, the food really does taste as good as it sounds. add to that the fact that i work with some truly kick-ass females, who all do a different cool and interesting something when they're not waitressing, and you've got yourself a recipe for one very happy ex-wine-sales-rep.
until today that is, when i experienced my first waitressing throwdown of my new career. i knew that shit would happen eventually. here's the deal:
i was not scheduled to work dinner today. i was only supposed to work lunch. since i had the night off, i decided that i would make dinner. i had a chicken in the freezer that needed to be defrosted, and i've been reading for a long-ass time that brining your meat makes it taste better. so i decided to try it. yesterday afternoon, rather than just throwing the chicken in the fridge to melt, i lovingly prepared a brine using salt, sugar, garlic, honey, bay leaf and of course, lots of water. i planned to let it sit for a full twenty-four hours for maximum flavor retention.
as soon as i put that shit in the fridge, the wheels in my brain started turning. i thought about how i could blanch the gorgeous baby artichokes i bought the other day with some new potatoes and then throw them in the pan a few minutes before the chicken was done. then i thought about possibly adding some quartered shallots as well, maybe making a nice arugala salad with honey mustard dressing to serve with it all. before i knew it, i had my whole meal mapped out, from the prep down to the plating.
i know that may seem a bit excessive for a weeknight dinner, but food is my obsession y'all. it's what makes me tick. some people eat to live, i live to eat...and cook...and read about cooking...and eating. you get the point. so when i received a text this morning asking me to cover someone's shift tonight, i politely declined. i had much more important things to do.
the trouble didn't start until after lunch, when my boss basically demanded that i come in for dinner, or never come to work again. my hands were shaking. my lip was quivering. i was using all the willpower i had to simply not shed a tear. how could they demand that i abandon my chicken?! i had spent so much time thinking about it over the past twenty-four hours that i felt like i had an emotional connection with it! i was pissed yo!
thankfully, my mom came to the rescue (as mom's often do) and offered to cook the chicken for me so that it wouldn't go to waste and let me tell you, it was the best damned chicken i've ever had. despite the fact that my mom cooked it for a good three hours (she's paranoid about food poisoning), it was still moist and juicy. the brine had soaked all the way through, permeating the meat with a savory-sweetness and a rich, herbal flavor. it was so worth it. all the heart-wrenching, power-struggling drama was totally fucking worth it. i'd do it again in a heartbeat.
let's just hope that next time, i won't have to cover anyone else's shift.

love always

you can learn how to dress just by checkin my fresh

2009-04-01T07:24:00.000-07:00

last night i went for dinner and drinks, plus american idol on tv and camp rock in the car. it was quite enjoyable. here's what i wore:

bright pink aviators from urban outfitters
black zip-up hoodie from h&m
big black purse from marshalls by ecko red
vintage leopard tunic from retro2mod
bright pink studded belt from forever 21
black trouser pants from marshalls by michael kors
bright pink jelly flats from hot topic (*blushes*)

yes, yes, those are indeed jellies. take a closer look:

love always

rock n roll is back from the dead

2009-03-28T22:01:00.000-07:00

seriously folks, when was the last time you heard a good rock record? not pop-rock, not emo-rock, not even 80s hair band rock, but just good old alternative rock. i'm willing to bet that it was sometime in the 90s, as evidenced by the fact that "modern rock" stations are still playing nirvana every two seconds.
if you, like me, are infinitely irritated by this, you'll be happy to hear that metric's new album fantasies is a sprawling, guitar-driven masterpiece that is, in my opinion, capable of reviving an almost extinct genre. i'm talking about catchy hooks, pounding drums, and of course, dirty, grimey distorted guitars. the cherry on top is emily haines' appealingly careless vocals, an ever-so-slightly-flat sing-song that says i'm way too cool to give a shit whether or not my pitch is perfect.
lyrically, this album is among the most intense i've heard. in my opinion rock lyrics have suffered possibly more than any other aspect of the genre. when rockers started disowning the emotion behind the music, they forced it, like any thing that is stifled, to emerge in disturbing forms, such as slit-your-wrists emo, or whiny, creed-esque country rock (shudder). it seems that nowadays it's considered hip to remain emotionally distant from the music you write.
while the lyrics to these songs do border on the enigmatic, they still contain enough raw emotional substance to truly hit home. whether on the glittery, creeptastic satelite mind, or in the animal orgy/throwdown of stadium love, these songs pack a punch while still managing to leave plenty of space for the listeners own interpretation. to me, this an album about what happens at 4 am in the dessert, but i highly doubt that anyone else has made the same connection. in a way, that makes it even more special to me, because my understanding of it is so highly personal.
this is, perhaps what i like best about this album. it is what you make of it. these are the kind of songs that encourage you to think, to imagine, to become inspired. (i took out my guitar for the first time in years, just to attempt to learn gimme sympathy so that i could play it for fluff.) in this way, metric has taken it way back, to the root of everything. fantasies is what rock n roll dreams are made of.

love always

p.s.- there's even acoustic versions of some of the songs. how fucking rock n roll is that?

really cheesy songs i like, part deux

2009-03-24T06:07:00.000-07:00

in order to tell you about this amazing piece of musical genius, i have to make a confession.
i'm twenty-four years old and i watch the disney channel .
yes, yes, i know this may seem a bit immature, but in my defense it was fluff who got me hooked on it, and like many things that i enjoy, it's harmless and comforting.
now that that's off my chest, i can tell you that the other day i was watching disney, when i saw the video for the new demi lovato song and immediately fell in love. it's called "don't forget" and it's so simple that even i could probably figure out how to play it on the guitar.
i have a love-hate relationship with demi lovato. she's like the ghost of what i thought i wanted to be when i grew up. she's so fucking pretty. and she's young. and her voice sounds the way mine used to sound before i smoked cigarettes for ten years. even more jealousy-inspiring is the fact that she got to star in camp rock. i seriously would've given up my pinky finger for that part.
in any case, here's another confession:
i actually bought the cd from itunes. i liked the song so much that i couldn't even wait to download it illegaly, so i went out and purchased the damn thing. i've been listening to it non-stop ever since.

love always

my brand new non-career

2009-03-22T17:34:00.000-07:00

tommorrow is my first day of work at a brand new job where i'll be......waitressing! i know that some people in my life see this as a desperate move, or as a sign that i'm throwing in the towel, but honestly, it's exactly what i wanted. after being "let go" from a job that i worked so hard to obtain, a job that i perservered at despite the fact that it made me unhappy, simply for the sake of my career, i really just want to wait on tables. it's like when you get out of a real serious relationship and you're not really ready to start dating again. i got burned pretty badly and i'm not in the mood to jump into another career just yet.
i waitressed for five years before i decided to sell wine for a living, and although i occasionally resented my customers, got sick of the late hours or felt like everyone's slave, for the most part, i really enjoyed it. here are my top five reasons why:

5. you actually get to move
the first year that i was waitressing, i dropped about twenty pounds and i couldn't figure out why. then i got a job in a fancy wine shop where i sat at a computer all day, and i gained it all back. that's when it clicked. all those hours that i was busting my ass waiting on tables, i was excercising without even realizng it! not only is it great to be active because you lose weight, but it can also improve your mood drastically.

4. time flies
working in a restaurant is simple. you go in, you do what needs to be done, then you leave. there's no watching the clock, no trying to look busy. either you are busy, or you get cut.

3. free time
restaurant hours are great. shifts are typically short and don't start until later in the day. no one calls you on your day off. no one expects you to put in more time just to prove how dedicated how your are. no one expects you to do anything except show up for your shift and finish your sidework. what this means is that you get plenty of space to do what really matters to you, whether it be working on a side project, or drinking till four am every night.

2. it's such a bonding experience
restaurants are pretty low-commitment, but at times, they can be brutal. the staff gets overwhelmed, the customers get hungry, the managers are all overworked and underpaid. emotions can run pretty high, especially when it's busy and everyone's in the weeds. because of this, you really rely on your co-workers to get you through it when they can. i've met some of my best friends working in restaurants, and we're still close to this day.

1. it's fucking fun!
yes, it's hard work. no, you never get the appreciation that you deserve. sometimes the chef flips out and calls you a whore. other times you wanna murder your co-worker who somehow always gets the best section despite the fact the they never do their sidework. despite all that, it's great fun. you schmooze your customers, gossip with the staff, and deliver people yummy food and drinks all night. you meet lots of cool people, try lots of great food and you get to be social all the time. coming from where i'm coming from, that sounds like a pretty sweet deal.

love always

i always suspected he might be gay....

2009-03-18T16:48:00.001-07:00

um, wtf, i'm really confused. i thought that twilight was supposed to be about sparkly, angsty abstinence. now that the dvd's about to come out, i feel like it's turning all sodom and gomorrah on me.
like the other day, steff and i went to hot topic to buy green hair extensions for st. patrick's day, and the guy at the checkout totally tried to hard-sell me on pre-ordering the dvd so i could get an invitation to the exclusive hot topic twilight release party. when i told him that i didn't want to be the oldest person there he got all defensive and said i'd be surprised how many people my age would be there. i still declined, politely i might add, but then his friend jumped in and said that i'd be missing out because there was gonna be a ventriloquist there with an edward puppet.
i've been having nightmares ever since.
then, i saw a preview of one of the deleted scenes on the dvd, and it's so awkwardly sexual that i felt like i was watching a porno. basically what happens is, bella's all like "hey edward, want a taste?", then she proceeds to finger-bang his mouth while he tries not to eat her fucking hand off. that shit isn't even right.
then, worst of all, i heard about how edward ( i mean robert pattinson) plays salvador dali in a gay porn.
wait, what? was dali even gay?
i'm alternately dying to see it and trembling in fear.
seriously though, does anyone else find it ironic that stephanie meyer's horny, mormon ass accidentally created such a sexual phenomenon?

love always

i'm totally not irish, but...

2009-03-15T05:09:00.000-07:00

yesterday i got dragged to the hartford st. patty's day parade by steff, who has spent the past couple weeks making every single guiness sign in hartford (whoa!).
we went shopping the day before for some green gear that was appropriately flashy yet fashionably subdued. in other words, we wanted to go green without looking like every other girl in downtown hartford.
here's what i came up with

(i look uber-pissed, but i'm actually not. i am however quite innebriated in this particular photo)
mostly, it ended up being a good time. we started drinking around 10 am (car bombs and jameson on the rocks- yes, i'm hardcore). the parade included a fairly large number of grown men in skirts which was entertaining, but the cheerleader's uniform's were so short that i also saw a fairly large number of pre-teen asscheeks, which was a bit disturbing.
the other thing that was disturbing was the lack of public restrooms. they literally had two porto-potties for the whole parade, which meant that steff and i spent a lot of our day squatting behind various dumpsters.
when the parade was ending we decided to hit up spiritus to get our drink on in case the bars got too crowded. consequently, i ended up carrying around a bottle of cono sur pinot noir (one of joe schling's favorites for y'all that dont know about that) in a black bag like a straight-up hoodrat.
at that point, we were navigating through this intense, thick sea of people and every two seconds someone kept stopping me to be like "OMG!!! kanye west!!!". obviously, it was because of the shades. i mean, aside from them, i do not resemble kanye west in the slightest. but seriously people, did kanye west invent shutter shades? is he the only person in the world who has access to them? i get that he did indeed wear a pair of them once, but other than that, is there any reason to get so starstruck over a pair of glasses?
after a while, we thought it would be funny if we let vinnie wear them, because he bears a much stronger resemblance to kanye west than i. i didn't get to snap a pic with the glasses, but just try to imagine it

it really did look kinda convincing. the funny thing is that as soon as he put on the glasses, not one person came up to us. not one! perhaps they thought he really was kanye and they got intimidated.
in any case, a fun time was had by all. i've been hearing about this particular event for a really long time, but it never really caught my fancy. i'm glad that steff suggested it, because i plan on leaving CT as soon as i possibly can, and it really would've been a shame to miss such a crap carnival as this.

love always

here's where the insanity starts

2009-03-11T15:14:00.000-07:00

now that i'm no longer working on a daily basis, i've got tons more time to do the things that i actually want to do. like going to the gym on a regular basis, writing and um, you know, stuff. to be honest, i'm actually uber-bored. i find myself dragging out the most basic, mundane things and turning them into big huge processes just so i'll have something to do.
case in point, this morning i spent such a long time making myself a beautiful breakfast, that i couldn't just eat it. i had to take a picture of it, which i will now share with you.

in case it just looks like a bowl of glop to you, i will explain it.
first, i took some organic oats from whole foods and boiled them in water with a whole bunch of butter. if you ever make this dish, do not skimp on the butter. it's such a healthy meal that a nice chunk of butter is perfectly acceptable, unless you'd prefer eating something that tastes like cardboard.
ok, after your oats are all buttery, you have to cut up a massive pile of fruits and put them on top of the oats. then you can dollop some fage, or any other thick greek yogurt on top of that. for those of you who don't know about fage, you're totally missing out. it's truly amazing stuff. it's thick and rich and ultra-creamy. honestly it tastes alot like sour cream only more yogurty. i use it in everything. salad dressings, breakfast, dessert, you name it, but the best, and easiest way to enjoy it is simply drizzled with a lot of honey. yum.
now that your breakfast has been faged, you can sprinkle some sliced almonds, drizzle some honey and you're good to go. it doesn't just look pretty, it tastes good too. i promise.

love always

i'm such a trendsetter

2009-03-09T17:24:00.000-07:00

when i was just a wee lass of about twelve years old, i used to wear a studded dog collar to school. i think it goes without saying that i was teased mercilessly for it. but now, those of you who were doing the teasing can politely raise your hands and bow your heads in shame, because i have the pleasure of announcing that shit is officially in style!
not necessarily the dog collar, but the studs in particular. i've seen them everywhere. on shoes, shirts, bags, earings, you name it. i'm especially pleased about this because it means that i will be spared the embarassment of walking into hot topic just to purchase my studded accesories.
sometimes i get really possesive about fashion statements. like, if i've been rocking a particular style and all of a sudden everyone else is wearing it, i feel kind of jilted. studded accesories however, are one trend that i really don't mind sharing. i seriously love them that much. they are just so classic. i mean, nothing says badass better than the three-row pyramid belt.
the best example of this new trend that i've seen so far are these amazing sandals from urban outfitters. admiteddly, they are pricey as shit, but some things are just worth it.

love always

everything was worth this

2009-03-06T14:19:00.000-08:00

i'm truly, truly ecstatic right now. i just received conformation from expedia that i did indeed purchase a round-trip ticket to san juan, puerto rico, and i will for sure be leaving CT for puerto rico on may 6th!!!! i can't even believe that shit is real!

sometimes i get scared that i won't do enough stuff before i die. that's there's just too much beauty in the world and i won't be able to experience enough of it. that's why things like this make me so happy. i get to step outside of my little box and really do something new.

now, of course the most essential part of such a vacation is figuring out which swimsuit i should buy to bring with me. for this, i have been neurotically consulting the orchid boutique . i can't decide between the aqua de arcoiris from aqua bendita or the dezert love bikini from maaji.....
in addition to my little trip to p.r., i'm also planning another big adventure in september, but more about that later. suffice to say that right now i'm not so upset about losing that job anymore.

love always

okay, so i lied

2009-03-06T09:14:00.000-08:00

i really honestly thought i wouldn't be devastated if quest crew won the season. who the fuck was i kidding? of course it was devastating! america hates females and that's all it really comes down to.
yes, quest did a few really cool tricks, and during britney week, they almost had me. im glad that the crew who won was actually capable of dancing. but in all honesty, beatfreaks deserved that title.
(it did not help that fluff teased me mercilessly about the fact that they lost. he got me feeling really sulky and resentful.)
the best part though, by far was when j.c. (swoon) called quest "america's best hair crew". that shit had me dying.
next season, i am forming an all-girl crew, and we better win that shit!

love always

the moment of reckoning has finally come

2009-03-05T10:56:00.001-08:00

despite the fact that i totally got fired last thursday, i still managed to watch last weeks episode of abdc. i could not miss that shit because i knew fly khicks would have to bounce, and that totally made me smile.
so now we're gearing up for the final episode tonight on mtv, and i couldn't be happier or more excited. both of my favorite crews made it to the final two, and for once i feel like it (mostly) a fair game. i've decided that i want beatfreaks to win tonight. yes, it's because they're girls! the past two seasons it's been all guy crews and that shit just ain't right. also, if they do win, i'm totally looking forward to lots of crying and girlyhugs and blabbering about feminist dreams and whatnot. that kind of stuff really tickles my fancy.
if quest crew does take it, i won't be that, that upset. unlike the winners from the past two seasons, these boys are actually good dancers. i just think that ocasionally they lost the aesthetic appeal of their dances, because they focused too much on doing tricks. typical boys!
beatfreaks on the other hand, were always clean, always tight, but sometimes i think they didn't do enough tricks to really grab the voters' attention. last week, their performances were solid, but a bit bland. i fear for them!
in any case, no matter who wins and who loses, i'm glad that the voters and the judges managed to decide on two talented crews to face off in the finale.

love always

this is the lamest recession ever

2009-03-02T15:02:00.000-08:00

the recession has finally hit home for me.
i woke up on thursday morning, all set for a super-long day at work. i had accounts to see, and immediately afterwards, a long sales meeting. but then i got a phone call from my boss asking if i could please come to the office a bit early to speak with him. i knew right then that something bad was going to happen.
i tried to get my boss to meet with me earlier. i was anxious and scared and not looking forward to an enire day of shaky anticipation. he refused.
at my last account of the day, i could barely hold my shit together. i rushed out before i had even finished the order, leaving my customer confused and bewildered and tripping over my own feet on the way out.
when i finally made it to my bosses office, they called in my direct supervisor and delivered the blow swiftly.
we've been waiting for you to exhibit certain behaviors that you have not yet exhibited.
you're a nice person, but that's all you are.
we're going to have to let you go.
and the icing on the cake: is there anything you would like to say?
in fact, there were many things i would've liked to say. such as: exactly what beahviors were you waiting for me to exhibit? perhaps if i had magically grown a dick so as to fit in better with the rest of the sales force?
i did not say any of those things. instead, i tried not to cry as i attempted to erase all incriminating evidence from my company issued laptop. eventually, we all agreed that perhaps it would be better if i returned the laptop the next day, after i had a chance to pull myself together.
i drove home in a haze of tears. i screamed into the phone at my mother that no, everything was not fucking okay. i called the customers that i was exceptionally close with and they reasurred me that i would, indeed be missed, and that no, i was not a terrible sales person.
then i sat. i sat and i thought, for a really long time. i thought of how i had spent my birthday this past year sitting in a wine class that failed to teach me anything i did not already know. i thought about the abortion that i had in may because no one wants to buy booze from a pregnant chick. i thought about the new car i had purchased, in order to run my new route, and i wondered how the fuck i would ever make the payment if i were forced to take a pay cut. i waited for some great realization, but it did not come. i could only sit and go over every sacrifice i had made for a job that no longer belonged to me.
it wasn't until later, after i admitted to myself that maybe i shouldn't be alone, and had gone to find comfort at a friends house, that it started to be okay. we were watching some commercial, possibly for apple or some such company. the commercial featured words like innovative, creative, ideas and the future. i used to see commercials like this and feel jealous. for me, those words, that concept, the image that those companies are trying to sell, was a thing of the past.
now, it didn't have to be that way.
i had liked some things about my job. mostly, i liked the fact that i was bringing in good money for a job that felt easy. there were also, however, things about my job that i had hated. things that opressed me. things like when my boss told me that in order to succesfully sell wine, i had to wear darker colors. or like the fact i always felt like i was faking it, and sooner or later, i would be found out. or like the way that during sales meeting my co-workers would always make snide comments like "i guess i have to watch my mouth now that there's a lady in the room."
the bottom line is that i never fit. and in this economy there is no room for an employee who doesn't fit. while this may feel like a bad thing, especially to those of us who no longer have a steady paycheck, i think that there are some positive aspects to the situation as well. it forces us to take a step back and think about where we do fit, where our skills would be the most useful and valued. it forces us to aks ourselves what we can do in this world, for this world, rather than just accepting whichever job pays the most.
personally, i'm excited to no longer be a wine sales rep, because that's not who i am. i am a writer. i am a thinker. i am a fabulous dresser (in brightly colored clothing!). i can do a cartwheel on my elbows, and i also happen to know more about wine than anyone else i know. i know in my heart that somewhere on this earth, there is a job for someone with exactly those qualifications, and now i am free to go find it.
there are people in this world who were born to sell wine. people who sell wine so well that it inspires people. people who sell wine in a way that changes the world. people who are so fucking amazing at selling wine that they should be famous for it. i am not one of those people.
there are also people who are great at other things, and who do those other things in a way that inspires people or changes the world or makes them famous.
now, i get to take my place among them.

love always

welcome to really cheesy songs i like

2009-02-23T14:25:00.000-08:00

today, i'll be discussing "thinking of you". ya know, that song where katy perry does a frighteningly accurate impersonation of alanis morisette?

i think the reason i like it so much is because the subject matter adresses my most biggest fear at the moment; banging someone new only to find out that your ex was really way better. since i absolutely refuse to download anything by katy perry, i only ever listen to this song in the car. when it comes on the radio, you can generally find me white-knuckling my steering wheel and shaking in terror, with just the faintest sparkle of a tear at the corner of my eye. i know this sounds a bit unpleasant, but it's actually a weird, sort of adrenaline rush type thing, like how people watch horror movies because they kinda like being scared.

in any case, way to go katy perry! you've actually made a song that doesn't make me wanna rip out your vocal chords on behalf of all womankind.

love always

p.s. check out the video as well, in which ms. perry pretends that her ex is dead, as if the song isn't about her being a foolish slut. really katy, i can relate to the foolish slut thing, the dead boyfriend, not so much.

oh the weather outside is frightful

2009-02-22T11:45:00.000-08:00

which means that it's time for me to face the awful truth about what happened on abdc this week. i will do my best to keep my cool while relaying this sad series of events.
first of all, i could tell it was gonna be a shitshow when they started off with an opening number. the opening number on abdc signifies the start of many bad decisions. among them, the decision to eliminate fish 'n' chicks in the first season, which takes the cake for my most devastating abdc moment ever. in traditional opening number fashion, the choreography was beyond cheesy. it literally hurt my eyes to watch.
after the opening number came a really sweet performance by quest crew, during which i came to an important realization about why i like this crew so much. have you ever seen the movie hook? if you haven't, please watch it immediately. if you have, you'll feel me on this. quest crew is the new incarnation of the lost boys. d-trix even has the same hairdo as rufio.

after quest crew, beatfreaks went off!!!! again. seriously ladies, spice it up a bit. at this rate, you're gonna win the show- no contest. now, where's the fun in that?

here's where the trouble starts.
strikers all-stars and fly khicks are in the bottom two. i was cool with fly khicks when they beat the ringmasters but since then, they've been in the bottom three motherfucking times! doesn't that tell you something?

strikers had it tough. they were given a shitty song (pose by daddy yankee), and then asked to emulate the video, which is miles away from the type of dance they normally do. so to begin with, the boys are out of their element. then, in the middle of the routine my boyfriend mike (you know, the one who ditched obama for mtv) fucks up and does this ridiculous spinny airplane move because he can't find his place. the judges give him hell for it. then, right before they cut to break, they show him backstage pacing around, totally freaked that he just screwed the whole thing up for his crew.
you can already tell this is going to end badly.
at this point, i'm praying for strikers. hoping that fly khicks at least get a shitty song too, you know, to level the playing field. of course they don't.
they get pon de replay by rihanna, and then they show them backstage talking about how they have to wind like rihanna. winding? really? i came out of the womb knowing how to wind, and that's their challenge?
so, the girls come out and wind flawlessly, as if that's actually a difficult thing to do. during the judges commentary shane is like "yo, you dance like my sister buffy." my point exactly shane.

then there's this whole thing about how fly khicks is getting back to their roots by wearing baggy jeans. alright, listen bitches, the only thing i have ever seen you wear is booty shorts and bras. even with your baggy jeans you're wearing bras. could you please try to be beatfreaks just a little harder. maybe while you're at it you could take some dance lessons.

i think you already know what happens next.
when they announce that the judges chose to keep fly khicks instead of strikers, the girl stading in the front for fly khicks is like "what?!". even they were dumbfounded that they got to stay.
meanwhile, poor baby mike from strikers is biting his lip trying so hard not to cry on national tv. seriously though mike, i just want you to know, everyone messes up, and you are still a truly fine specimen of a man. if you need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me.
actually, i was getting a bit teary myself. the idea that i have to look at fly khicks again for another week is truly devastating to me. i swear to god if they make it into the top two, i'm breaking up with abdc.
then again, i think i say that every season.

love always

surpirse, surprise. i'm sick again....

2009-02-21T19:37:00.000-08:00

for the past couple of weeks, i have been on-and-off sick. today and yesterday have been an all-time low. it's hard for me to accept being ill, especially when it means staying home and recuperating and especially in the midst of such an exciting time in my life. what this means is that i've been attempting to go out and live like the healthy, but i'm not quite there. i'm only giving fifty percent. i'm like a zombie, going through all the motions but not really feelin it.

oh, and i'm in bed early. like, really early.

you'd think that all this rest and relaxation would give me a perfect opportunity to sit down and write something, but it hasn't. i'm bored! if anything, this mellow time has only strengthened my resolve to get out and do something. anything. many things. but all of them real, raw and honest.

however, as they say, every grey cloud has a silver lining. so i'd like to give a shot-out to all my silver linings.

like how nice it is to have friends who you feel close enough with that you can temporarily move your sick bed over to their place, and then lay around in your pjs watching movies.

or how good it feels to make up with someone, even though you still disagree with each other, because you love each other enough to not have to agree.

most importantly, finding a sense of comfort in yourself, whether you're sick or not.

love always

they're fucking with me, i just know it.

2009-02-20T17:08:00.000-08:00

this weeks episode of abdc was such a travesty, that i'm going to have to ask you to just bear with me for a few days until i calm down and am able to write about it without BUGGING THE FUCK OUT!!!
now, if you'll excuse me for that small outburst, i'd like to say that aside from abdc, i'm really quite pleased with the way things have been working out lately. i had a lovely tasting this evening at my newest account, kaman's. i was chatty and bubbly and most importantly, i sold things, which always puts a smile on my face.
even better, i stood up to my ex-boyfriend today, which is truly a cause for celebration. normally, i'd drink champagne, but even more impressively, i've quit drinking for the week.
cheers!

love always

growing pains

2009-02-17T15:11:00.001-08:00

a few days ago, i was peeing in my friend steff's bathroom, when the most recent issue of spin caught my eye. i picked it up, intrigued by the image on the cover; an impossibly skinny brunette, with a gawdy hairpiece and loads of makeup.

"who the fuck is this?!" i asked of steff

"lily allen" she answered.

i looked at the magazine again, comparing the porcelain doll on the cover to my mind's image of what lily allen is supposed to look like.

"why'd she lose so much weight?" is all i could think to say.

"she's really insecure" steff answered "she talks about it in the interview. it kinda made me like her more"

a few days later, i downloaded her new album it's not me, it's you. to be honest i was still a bit distressed by that photograph. since when did lily allen so uncanilly resemble katy perry? i loved her in her prom dress and sneakers, and i wanted her to stay that way.

listening to the album, i felt the same way all over again. i had become addicted to alright still after a traumatic breakup. every song was a gem, with some fantastically clever line hidden in the center. i had loved how simple and blunt and bratty it all was. on the new album, everything sounds shiny and glittery and polished.

in short, it bothered me. in fact, it bothered me so much that i felt compelled to listen to the album for as many times as it took for me to figure out why exactly it was so bothersome. it seemed most apparent on songs like not fair and never gonna happen. the kind of boy-bashing anthems that made alright still such a fun album in the first place. they were missing something. a spark, a flame, an emotion, anything. then it occured to me: she's lost her swagger.

immediately, i fashed back to what steff had said about how insecure she was and it all made sense. i've been through the same exact thing. you think you're tough shit, and then for whatever reason you fall off and you keep trying to get back up again, but it's lost. you can't repeat being naive enough to feel invincible, no matter how hard you try.

then again, who would want to? what lily allen seems to be experiencing is that heartwrenching process we like to call growing up and when taken for what it is, it's not me, it's you is a painfully accurate documentation of that. on everyone's at it she dissects that moment when drugs start to look gross rather than glamorous. chinese finds her playing house, and actually preferring it to all the hustle and bustle of her celebrity lifestyle. and in back to the start she reaches new levels of maturity by admitting to a friend that she acted like a catty bitch because she was jealous.

i still think that the dry british humor she's so well known for is a bit lacking on this album, but on the whole, it's quite endearing, and more importantly, relatable.

so i guess i owe lily allen a big huge apology. i'm sorry it took me so long to accept the fact that you're growing up. all i can say in my defense is that it's taken me longer to accept the fact that i'm growing up as well. i guess we all are.

love always

this is what us single folk do on valentine's

2009-02-14T09:07:00.000-08:00

yet again, i am uber-late with the abdc update. can you tell that this new-england winter shit is really getting to me? it's like my cells are actually freezing, so that they're susupended, or moving in slow-motion or something. therefore, it is quite easy for me to lay around watching crappy tv, but formulating an actual opinion on it and then articulating that opinion is another thing entirely.

nevertheless, i will attempt it.

beatfreaks, i love you gals so much! especially adorable marys, who dedicated her performance to her late brother, who so sadly passed away before he even turned 18. after the performance, they showed her backstage telling her crew "i love you guys so much. you're my family." in her sweet accent. now, i really want her to be my new best friend.

also, this week i like beatfreaks better than quest crew again, because quest crew's performance was kinda whack.
strikers all-stars also gave kind of a weak performance, but they totally made up for it by being SEXY AS FUCK.
fly khicks and dynamic addition had to battle it out at the end, and y'all know how i feel about both these crews, but lo and behold, the cloggers actually learned how to dance! i've never seen clay aiken look so gangsta!
of course, as soon as i decide to like them they go and get eliminated. all because fly khicks know how to do splits in their booty shorts.
typical, abdc, so fucking typical.

love always

this is too good to wait till later

2009-02-12T13:18:00.000-08:00

oh my word! the best thing ever has finally happened. mike jones is making a comeback!
my faith in the universe has been restored! i am convinced it is a sign from the heavens that a new era is dawning.
also, i love the new song by soulja boy kiss me through the phone. it is fantastically cheesey that i cannot help myself from becoming hopelessly addicted.

love always

back from the grave

2009-02-08T06:57:00.000-08:00

it's been so freaking long since i've updated, but i swear, i have an excuse! i've been sick and cranky and trust me, non one should have to hear from me when i'm in that sort of a state. now, i'm almost all better and i have just one thing to say:
in regards to thursday's abdc episode, thank you god! i am certain that you heard my fervent prayers to have the ringmasters eliminated, and you have so graciously chosen to answer them. all i can do is express my unending gratitude for this small miracle, because watching those dudes was starting to make me nauseous.
yes, despite the fact that i was sick as shit, i did literally jump for joy when they announced that. also, since it was fly khicks that won the battle, i must say, i might be able to tolerate these bitches just a tiny bit more from now on.
other than that, it was a pretty uneventful show, all the crews that are usually good were still good
oh, wait! there was one more thing. the cloggers (dynamic addition) SMASHED IT! THEY SMASHED IT!
granted, mtv did kinda throw them a bone by allowing them to dance to achy-breaky heart, which is totally their favorite song ever, but still, they were pretty freaking flawless. way to go clay aiken!
poor beat freaks! they had to dance to pretty fly for a white guy.

in totally unrelated news, my friend made me watch hancock last night. i was not all that psyched about it, but it actually turned out to be really good. you should totally check it out.

love always

lifestyles of the young and reckless

2009-02-02T05:22:00.001-08:00

i had such a fabulous weekend this past weekend, that i kept waking up in the middle of the night on sunday, just to mourn the fact that it was over.

as i mentioned before, my weekend started with an extensive sherry tasting on friday, accompanied by assorted spanish treats, such as marcona almonds, serrano ham, and the most amazing garlicky olives ever. the tasting was led by a seriously charming spaniard, who simultaneously had a british and spanish accent. technically, this event was a "sales meeting", but halfway through it, i was feeling so light and fuzzy that i drunk-texted everyone i was mad at, and made up with them right then and there.

post sherry extravaganza, i napped, bubble-bathed and pretty much luxuriated in every way possible, so i woke feeling happy and refreshed on saturday morning. i hit the gym to burn off some of those extra pork-fat calories, and then treated myself (along with heater and her adorable daughter) to a delicious lunch of fresh spring rolls, coconut soup, and spicy-steak salad. afterwards, heather suggested that we go shopping at marshalls, where i picked up three pairs of the cutest sunglasses i've ever seen, including these bad boys:

i also got a pair of professional looking, black kors pants, a sheer white tee, a pink, halter-top bubble dress, sexy boyfriend jeans, and tweed pants from the limited in their cassidy fit, which is my fav. as we were ringing up our purchases, i realized i was late for my hair appointment, so i hightailed it to the angry chair , where i got the best haircut/dye job ever, courtesy of dan, who's a real cutie. check it:

when i arrived home from the salon a million hours later, there was a dinner party in full swing at my humble abode. i spent the evening eating delicious food and having some very entertaining conversation with just a few of my most favorite people.

i woke up early on sunday and just barely managed to make it to the gym again, before i had to help sarah shop for her super-bowl party. we then went back to her house and proceeded to make quacamole, buffalo wings with bleu cheese dip, some really tasty snack mix, artichoke dip and ceasar-deviled eggs. steff and vinnie arrived around 4 with yet another dip, one of my favorites, cream cheese, chilli and melted cheddar. we started pouring pink punch and before i knew it, i was once again in a food/booze induced stupor. unfortunately, all the fabulocity became a bit overwhelming and i had to call it an early night before the super-bowl even ended (not that i was paying attention to it anyway).

i then fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed of being on a permanent vacation....

my reason for existing

2009-01-30T15:06:00.000-08:00

i've just woken up from a very refreshing nap, after a sales meeting during which i completely saturated myself with sherry and jamon serrano. aaah, the good life...
there are however, very important matters to discuss. the time has come for yet another season of my most favoritest show america's best dance crew. we're about three episodes in, so basically, it's just starting to get good. for those of you who don't live under a rock, the show is on mtv, at 10pm eastern time.
now, let's talk about the crews.
beatfreaks- these badass chicks are currently my personal pick to win the season. they're sick, just sick, no other way to describe it. their movements are complicated, precise, clean and together, oh, and did i mention not slutty? as this is an as-of-yet unheard of concept on abdc i'm pretty psyched.

strikers all stars- another crew that actually knows how to dance! i think we may be apparoaching a new record here mtv! also, these boys are smokin', especially the one who got an invitation to perform at obama's inauguration, but ditched it to be on abdc instead. he so clearly has his priorities straight! i sure would love his phone number......

dynamic addition- oh my word, these people are cloggers. as in they wear clogs and bang around on the floor making lots of noise and looking like tools. they are also white as shit. i mean like, lily white, see-through white, twilight white, i don't know what else to call it. the group consists of four burly females, led by a very small man, who is clearly clay aiken's little brother. wouldn't you know, the audience loves them. i feel bad for them, but it's all just a bit too lord of the dance for me.

quest crew- cute asian boys. watching them reminds me of working at forbidden city. they're all so cute and asian i just want to pick them up and squeeze them until they turn blue.

fly khicks- ugh, another girl cheerleading crew. gag me with a motherfucking spoon. they're actually not anywhere near as bad as fembot five or any of the other cheer crews we've seen in the past, but still, give it a rest ladies, it's fucking exhausted.

team millenia- team millenia kinda reminds of fanny pak, only boooring. wicked cute girls, semi-gay boys. they dance well together, they just don't really stand out.

ringmasters- seriously, these boys should put an nc-17 rating on their performances, because they are hands-down the most disturbing thing i've seen in a good, long time. they don't even dance. they just sort of skulk around the stage looking like deranged convicts, showing the audience their weird double-jointedness. it reminds of being in school and having some dude come up and be like "hey wanna see something cool?" and then proceeding to perform some disgusting act like dislocating his shoulder or something. i'm totally waiting for one of them to shoot milk out of their eyeball across the cafeteria.

there were some other crews, but they've obviously been eliminated, and no one cares about them anyway.
last night's episode was, yup, you guessed it, a total crap carnival. (it was also britney spears night, yay!)
beat freaks and strikers all-stars went first, and i have to say, these two crews are so good it's almost boring. there's no element of surprise to their performance. you know they're gonna come out strong, you know they're gonna make everyone else look like a joke. there's no suspense. all good marks from the judges, of course.
the only exciting moment was when the girls in beat freaks flipped out because MTV tried to force them to be sluts and wear creepy clothes like britney. i must say, they handled it nicely. moderate coverage bustiers with menswear pants. sexy and classy.
then came dynamic addition. these poor souls had to dance on chairs for their physical challenge, and clay aiken's brother was all worried that they'd fall off. pussies! so they brought the chairs out and jumped up on them for literally two seconds and then proceeding to clog happilly around the stage to stronger. the girls were all wearing matching pink jackets and long blond wigs, and clay jumped off a chair.
during the judge's comments, shane let on that he was obviously shitfaced by proclaiming "i couldn't stop thinking about the movie white chicks." damn shane, that's cold. true, but cold.
next came quest crew in what was arguably the best routine of the night. their physical challenge was to dance blindfolded, and not only did they dance well, but one guy did a dive role through another guy's legs, blinfolded! i mean, seriously dude, that could've went wrong in so many ways. once the blinfolds came off they got totally femmey and somehow executed a dance that was complete and utter britney spears perfection. maybe they secretly have vaginas....
after quest crew, fly khicks came out and got girljuice all over the stage. let me state for the record, that i do not have a problem with these girls because they are sexy. i have a problem with them because they are sexy in a way that is contrived and embarassing.
and then, the moment of reckoning. it was team millenia against ringmasters in the bottom two. team millenia's routine was perfectly respectable. ringmasters on the other hand... i had to stop myself from getting up and punching a hole through the tv. they danced to circus of course, which was pretty fitting, except for the fact that their dance had no relevance whatsoever to britney spears, or to dancing in general for that matter. plus, their bone-crushing or whatever they call it, is just gross.
of course, lil' mama likes them because they're from brooklyn. so in typical abdc fashion, team millenia was eliminated in favor of a group of gimmicky freaks. i should've know that would happen, but for some reason i get my hopes up every single time. i'm already hoping that they'll get eliminated next week, but when the time comes we shall see.....

love always

i am a sucker for all things fluffy

2009-01-25T14:50:00.000-08:00

in regards to yesterday's post
the new weetzie bat was.....
just like the old weetzie bat.
weetzie ends up with my secret agent lover man (who is now called max, weird) even though he is a total buzzkill, but first there's lots of magical stuff. i think the last three lines of this book may in fact be the same last three lines from i was a teenage fairy
that being said, of course i loved it. it was great fun. there was creepy hermaphrodites, mermaids, elf-babies, goat boys, a spider-woman, a flying bride and yes, tons of hot clothes and delicious food to keep me drooling the whole way through.
but dude, witch baby shaved her head. that is so not even right. now all of us girls who loved her because we shared her tangly hair are left out in the cold, with no snarly-headed fictional heroines to relate to (except hermione, but she doesn't count because her hair is flat in the movies).
speaking of movies, i would love to see this book as a movie. baz luhrman should totally direct it, and robert pattinson would have to play the hot goat boy. i swear they were gonna make a dangerous angels movie, or was that just in the book?
in any case, it was pretty fab. unanashedly feminine, fashion-focused, and fantastical. i did not discover any hidden secrets about how to kiss better, or retain my youthful spunk well into adulthood, but i was quite inspired by weetzie's sparkly sense of style.
do y'all think pink vintage chanel qualifies as professional attire?

love always

and the moral of the story is.......

2009-01-22T00:17:00.000-08:00

i had a dream that reminded me of my vacation, and i woke up and realized that maybe i ought to wrap it up so i can write about something else.
the last couple days i had in california were much more mellow. i went to ironstone winery, hung out with my family, ate some good food, including thai spaghetti and meatballs, which was really bizarre. on friday, the day before i got home i got really sad, whether this was because i didn't want to leave or because i was dreading flying home in the middle of a freaking snow storm, i'm not entirely sure. either way, i felt very emotional.
actually, during my whole trip i felt pretty intensely emotional. there is something about being that far away from home that makes me feel vulnerable and anxious. i'm really attached to everything i surround myself with here, in connecticut, but what if i had a choice? what if i could choose to go somewhere else and get attached to a different set of things? maybe even a better set of things?
so this is the direction my thoughts have been taking since i've been home. just how much do i wanna stay in this cozy little box i've made for myself? the world is bigger than i thought, and i haven't even left the country yet.

love always

now that i know how to post pics....

2009-01-14T18:21:00.000-08:00

okay,k, k. i've been home for almost a week and i still haven't even discussed the most fantastical part of my trip; san fransisco!
we went to san francisco on a wednesday and it was super nice and sunny out. as we drove into the city, i was literally swooning in the backseat. yes, folks, believe the stories. san francisco is fucking gorgeous. none of that grimey, gray sludge that coats the atmosphere in nyc. it's all blue skies and clean air and weird achitecture.

in short, i'm in love.
after we parked the car, we took a trolley to chinatown, which is so way better than any other chinatown i've been to before. i mean, you can tell that you're in chinatown, not because it smells like fish, but because it looks chinese.

like, this building is a fucking bank. how cool is that?

we ate lunch at this place called brandy ho's. the food was remarkably similair to the food at forbidden city, but seriously, these people should win an award for having the best restaurant name ever.

aslo in chinatown, i shopped for super-cute, super-cheap clothes and jewels.
after chinatown, we walked back through the city to the car. on the way we hit up this crazy fountain, that is also a monument to martin luther king jr.

i looked pretty hot inside of it!

after that, we went to the filmore, which is a shnazzy nieghborhood that costs a million dollars to live in. we took the dog for a walk in the park and at the park we could see the whole city. sheryl said "it's like meeting a guy who's really hot, and really nice and he's totally into you.", which is in fact, exactly what it's like.
we ate dinner at spqr, and i'm still confused about why the hell food and wine named the pasta carbonara as one of the ten best dishes of the year, but somehow neglected to mention the insane lasagne, which almost had me rolling around on the floor it was so good.
so now that i'm in love with san fran, i think i will get super-rich so i can move there and live in a house that looks like this:

or even better, one that looks like this:

love always

berkeley, again

2009-01-09T09:01:00.000-08:00

when i woke up on tuesday, i still felt a tad bit groggy, but mostly all better. i was pretty psyched to actually get out and do stuff since i had been such a lameass the day before. the first order of business was getting some food, and for that, we headed to pancake circus, the diveyest restaurant ever. i had the veggie benedict; english muffin, scrambled eggs, avocado, tomato and onion, all smothered in this insanely buttery hollandaise.
after breakfast, we decided to go back towards berkeley and hit up the meditation center that we skipped out on the night before. the drive there was pretty freaking amazing. we drove through sonoma to marin county, which is super pretty, and ended up at spirit rock which is even prettier. we weren't allowed past the gates because there was a silent retreat going on, but we climbed the beautiful hills instead and looked down at the whole thing from way up high. it was very hobbit-esque. check it out.

after we departed the shire, we headed back to berkeley for some dinner with my uncle. we ate at this thai place cha-am , which i must say, serves some seriously boombangin thai. i ordered a simple dish of shrimp and scallops with veggies, garlic-chili sauce and brown rice, but it was perfectly done and i didn't stop eating it until i was uncomfortably full.
my uncle invited us back to his place for some pastries, tea and desert wine. i convinced him to give me this test to find out whether i'm "androgynous" (he's a psychologist). basically, the idea is that a someone who is healthy and balnced has equal high amounts of masculine and feminine qualities. i scored abnormally high on both the masculine and feminine parts. so basically, i'm a genius, but i've kind of had a hunch about that for a while...

love always

i suck at vacationing

2009-01-08T07:37:00.000-08:00

So, to continue with my story....

after my horrific plane ride, i actually did land in sacramento. by that point, i was barely concious, but since this is my first time on the west coast, i tried to stay awake for the ride. we saw a del taco which was definately different than connecticut, but the thing i was most amazed by, was the fact that they have lemon trees and orange trees and grapefruit trees just growing in people's yards like it's nothing.

i slept like shit the first night, even though i was dead tired, but when i woke up, sheryl made ham and eggs and coffee, which was pretty awesome. then we walked the dog and i stole an orange off someone's tree, because i just had to taste it. i must admit, it was pretty slammin.

we headed off to berkeley around noon to visit my favorite uncle and go to a meditation thingie. the drive was so overwhelming for me, because everything looks so different here. and not in the way that i expected, either. yes, there are palm trees, but what's really crazy is the land itself. sometimes it rolls into these big green hills, and other times it flattens out completely, but it always looks bigger than in connecticut, and the sky looks bigger too.

by the time we got to berkeley i was so blown away and disconcerted that i really couldn't even focus. we hung out at my uncle's apartment for a bit, and then we decided to walk downtown and find food. on the way we saw these gorgeous flowers with these odd pod-like things attached to them, which we later found out were passion fruits. we also saw lavender plants, and sage and all sorts of fancy-smelling things, and the flowers were actually in bloom! in the middle of january!

we decided to eat at this vegan/raw restaurant called Cafe Gratitude . it was super cozy inside and the menu was huge. they have this whole gratitude theme going on as well. the food is called stuff like i am amazing, and when they bring it to you, they say "you are amazing". they also asked us the "question of the day", which was "what about your life is blessed?" i ordered the i am abundant sampler plate and although most of it tasted like your average health food, the hummus and the olive tapenade were super-tasty. i also had a killer dessert called i am bliss, which kind of resembled a chocolate cream pie and really was quite blissful.
the trouble started after our meal, when we were walking back to the apartment. all of a sudden, out of nowhere, i felt like i had swallowed a basketball. maybe it was all the dense vegan food i had just eaten, or maybe it was the fact that my whole body was still reeling from the traumatic night before, but of course i did not consider either of these possibilities. instead i panicked, and decided that i must be pregnant.
at that point we all decided that i was in no shape for sitting through an hour long meditation class. sheryl went to the elephant pharm to buy me a pee test, and we decided to just head back to the apartment and chill, which was nice because i really haven't seen my family (or at least this sect of it) in a long time. my uncle was very sweet, providing us with tea and plenty of little things to nibble and pick at. i fell asleep on the car ride home, and woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and ready to go......

love always

next time, i'm upgrading to first class

2009-01-07T08:10:00.001-08:00

i swore that when i got to california i was going to write every single day, and of course i've been here 3 days and i haven't even written a word. it's not that i'm being lazy, it's just that there's too much to do! i'm beyond overwhelmed. i do however, feel that it's really important for me to document this stuff. i just need some time to process it all.
Like for example, the plane ride was so fucking traumatic that i had to wait a few days before i could even think about it again. what happened was, i left connecticut at noon for laguardia, and i didn't even arrive in sacramento until 1 am cali time (which is 4am CT time). So, yes, if you did the math, i spent sixteen hours traveling and it was HELL! The ride up to laguardia wasn't bad. we stopped for food and took our time. laguardia itself wasn't that bad either, although all they had in the bookstore was twilight so i had to read eclipse again, but even that was fine. the trouble started when i was actually all the way on the plane and we were taking off.
it's been five years since the last time i had flown prior to this, and i don't know if my body changed or if i just forgot, but holy mother of god, i hate flying. all the bizarre changes in pressure, the fact that the airplane seat is barely large enough to seat a five year old, plus my fear of heights as i watched new york city turn into this tiny speck of glitter, all of that together made me so sick that i literally had a panic attack in midair when i realized that i had to do it all over again once i got on my connecting flight.
and of course, the connecting flight was delayed, because, get this, someone on the plane before me had a medical emergency and they had to do an emergency landing at a hospital. i truly hope that whoever that was is feeling better and getting the best care they possibly can, but honestly, how often does that happen? my guess is only when i'm flying. so, the flight was delayed and the continental people were being total assholes about it, refusing to answer anyone's questions about when our flight was coming in, or what gate we were leaving from. i called everyone i know and cried about how i'd never leave the houston airport, and i'd be stuck there forever and then, we finally got on the plane and this jackass asked me to switch seats with his daughter so she sit closer to him and i felt bad, so i said yes and then i ended sitting next to a fat man in an aisle seat. at that point i gave up and ate one of the klonopin that my mom gave me and attempted to sleep through it, but alas, that stupid drink cart kept hitting me in the elbows and ankles. in short it sucked.
many more thngs happened after that, but i'm just getting started. more later.

love always

i'm a slave to the awesome power of truffles

2008-12-30T17:31:00.000-08:00

i woke up this morning at 4 am and could not get back to sleep. my stomach felt all queasy and upset, almost like when i drink too many jack and gingers. but for once in my life i could not blame my suffering on jack daniels. this time i had no one to blame but the lovely folks at plan b and their ingenious combination of french fries + truffle oil.
for those of you who have never experienced truffles or truffle oil, let me tell you, you are missing out in a big way. i would even go so far as to say that you're life can't possibly be complete until you eat a truffle (or at least something truffled). truffles taste rich, earthy and almost garlicky, and when combined with the basic, comforting potatoey goodness of french fries, the flavor becomes addictive.
i first had the truffle fries at plan b on a wednesday. i returned that friday for more. then a week later i got take out, which was the beggining of a plan b extravaganza that lasted all of this weekend. i'm not even kidding you. friday, saturday and last night as well, when my body finally gave out and protested my newly formed habit.
i'm detoxing now. lots of green tea and brown rice. but i'm not even gonna lie to you and say that it's easy. i am constantly being tempted by visions of not only their truffle fries, but also their tater tots (which taste like mcdonald's hash browns, in a good way), their parmesan fries, and their burgers. oh, lordy, their burgers. that's another addiction in and of itself.
also, their list of alcoholic beverages is freaking phenomenal, mainly because it focuses on dark liquors, like whiskey and bourbon, rather than prissy flavored vodka martinis. they have shit like mint juleps, and sidecars, and also, this ourtageous drink that combines galliano with cream to make a surprisingly accurate imitation of a root beer float.
since it's obvious that i'm not ready to completely kick my plan b habit, i'm going to try to limit my consumtion to once a week only, in the hopes that my digestive system will forgive me that small indulgence. in the meantime, i'll be sleeping soundly, dreaming of truffle fries all night long.

love always