Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Holiday Cheers.

It's been about 8 years since I have celebrated Christmas.

I'm not Christian and just find it weird to celebrate the birth of the savior of people who believe in this great myth. It actually upsets me that people are so excited to celebrate a holiday that was adapted from another mythology by a bunch of evil rulers many years ago as a way to control the actions of the population.

I find Christianity to be hypocritical- why put so much faith in a religious figure who was kind, gentle, generous, able to accept the ultimate punishment for expressing love and unity - and then wage bloody, cruel wars in that same figure's name? Why persecute all who didn't hold the same beliefs and values? It goes against logic and upsets me that the people practicing Christianity rarely recognize this.

But I'm over being upset about this. In a world that is in constant turmoil because of religious clashes, I have accepted that this is not isolated to Christianity. It is not isolated, even, to this century. Since time immemorial, people have needed something bigger, greater, more powerful and mysterious than themselves to believe in. It gives them hope and that is an incredibly comforting emotion.

So fine. I'm glad these people have hope. And that they can remind themselves of the hope by hanging bright lights from dead pine trees and baking gingerbread cookies and giving each other fancily-wrapped presents. I'm glad that during this time of year, people are reminded that they should offer to help strangers and give money to charities.

Earlier this year, I decided not to despise this holiday anymore. My roommates and I got a tree and we spent hours and many dollars shopping and decorating. We hung bright, beautiful lights on our balcony and put a Santa hat on a life-size skeleton that hangs off the same balcony, just over our front door.

I went to San Francisco in a Santa costume to party with hundreds of other people in similar dress. I bartended and played Dance Dance Revolution at an office party. I even bought a few ridiculously funny presents for one of my roommates during our decoration shopping spree.

This feels much more lovely than in previous years, where I had to take a vacation in order to distance myself from these kinds of festivities. People are giving me booze and bath salts and cookies, for crying out loud. And I'm thankful for it. Mostly for the booze.

We're having Christmas dinner at our beach house with family and friends. I'm going to insist on a prayer before dinner. It just seems like the right thing to do.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Gross realization

Iwoke up early this morning, excited that I'll be off to San Francisco in a few hours for SantaCon. Let the dogs out in the rain and made some coffee. After two cups, I hopped in the shower. As I was washing my hair, I started to feel a little queasy.

I often feel like I'm going to hurl. It's my weak stomach- not pregnancy. I hope. So I continue my business and breathe through it. Just as I finished applying conditioner, I shocked the hell out of my shower by projectile vomiting all over it. Disgusting. I don't think I've ever done that before.

Anyhow, it was my coffee with vanilla flavored cream and there was more to come, so I hopped out, dripping wet and confused, and got rid of my second cup in the toilet. Well placed. Much better than in the tub.

When I was finished, all I could think was- I wonder if the caffeine made it into my blood stream yet or if I'll have to drink more to feel the effects. That's when I realized I have a serious problem. Caffeine addiction.

Here I sit on my deck overlooking the Pacific ocean, hair still full of conditioner, drinking my third cup of coffee this morning. I'm waiting for the lingering effects of the nausea to pass before I attempt to finish my shower.

What a gross way to start my day.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

The grass is always greener on the other side of the tow truck

I don't generally whine much about how much I hate my job. Please don't look through old posts to prove me wrong and call me a liar.

But yesterday. Yesterday, my car was broken and my plans to go into the office were dashed. Instead, I was loaded up with two fellas in a tow truck and we drove around Southern California in traffic, my big sedan on the back. It was one of the guy's second week at his job. The other guy was training and enoying the intricacies of the job as he explained them to the trainee.

We bumbled along the freeway at low speed and drove through a truck weighing station at 3 miles per hour. The whole time, I was listening in to a conference call for work and realized that I have an incredibly boring job in comparison to theirs.

I talk to the same people, day after day. I know what meetings I'll attend and what I'm responsible for delivering before my week even begins. I don't chat with strangers in the front seat of my car for an hour or two while passing the time in traffic.

I'd really dig being a tow truck driver. Or a horse trainer. Or maybe a cashier at a night club. OR OR!!! Perhaps a TSA agent. Yeah, that would be pretty cool.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

This is off to a great start

I met this guy at a friend's wedding recently and we got along great. He made me laugh. He asked me to dinner the next week. Cool!

We had dinner, he KILLED me with laughter. I seriously had to stop laughing at one point because I was about to pee myself and that just wouldn't be ladylike.

He travels for work a lot and told me he was going on a trip to Lake Tahoe this week. Poor fella was sick with the flu over the weekend, so I sent him a text on my way home from work last night. And so began one of the strangest text conversations I've ever had.

Tabbie: Hope you're feeling better & enjoying your "work", funny man.

Him: Air is thin

(Tahoe is up in the mountains. Okayyy...?)

Tabbie: Yeah. Go to an oxygen bar. It makes a world of difference especially if you're drinking.

Him: My job promotes drinking yeah

Tabbie: Dude then take my advice & go breathe pure oxygen so u don't do a crappy job of drinking for work!

Him: Heart beats harder


Tabbie: That could just be all the excitement

Him: I like it warm

Tabbie: What?

Him: Altitude

Tabbie: U like warm altitude?

Him: I like it warm

Tabbie: Well, this is an odd conversation.

Him: Its the drinking abd altitude

Tabbie: Whoa drunk by 7. Good work!

Him: Good time

(so I thought that was the end, but at 12:54 am...)

Him: Oh

(so strange... right? I sent this one back at 5 this morning)

Tabbie: Random Oh in the night? Hmmm

(then at just past 7am)

Him: Pain

Tabbie: Drink some water take an aspirin and go back to sleep

Him: The best hangover remedy is sex

Tabbie: So have sex. Duh.

Him: Ya there are no soft women here, my profession still has a lot of males

Tabbie: Bummer. Maybe u should try to handle it urself

Him: I know. It is happy right now

Him: Say something dirty

Tabbie: R u still drunk?

Him: Yep

Him: Dirty birdy

Tabbie: Ah. That explains a lot. OMG.

Him: Sex is a good thingy

Tabbie: Ummmm yeah

Him: I think sex with you would be a good thingy, you look soft

Him: It would

Tabbie: Wow. U may want to consider sleeping this one off. Not that I disagree about sex with me being a good thingy.

Him: Sweet, I'm trying to but need to handle myself first

Tabbie: good luck

Him: Nice

(and several minutes later)

Him: Pain

Tabbie: You're repeating yourself, drunky.

Him: No, I was coming full circle

Tabbie: Oh

Him: Ya

He's joining me for a friend's birthday party on Friday night. I wonder if he's crazy or just REALLY REALLY wasted. Miss M, please give me a breakdown of what you think of him? Of course, he may get REALLY REALLY wasted at your party too and then we may never know.

Saturday, November 14, 2009


I met a 9 year old girl at my friend's birthday party last night. She told me her name was Trinity and I said - wow! You know trinity is 3 and what's 3 times 3? Nine, she told me. That's your age- how cool. This is your year to shine, Trinity. Her face lit up and she clapped her hands together, forgetting the helium-filled balloon she was holding.

Her face dropped. It hit the ceiling and the ribbon was out of reach. I said Trinity, if you were a giraffe, you could just reach up and grab that down. Since you're not, how are you going to get it?

She asked me if I'm a teacher and I said no- but I'm a tutor. While she looked around for resources to make her taller, she told me her friend Haley has a tutor.

And it hit me. I'm good with kids. I love to see them learn and discover and explore and find excitement in the whole process. And that's why I'm incredibly upset. Not that I have this passion, but that my student- the one I've been tutoring for over 2 years now is even more at risk than when I started with her in kindergarden.

I volunteer for an organization that provides tutors for homeless kids. My student's dad is a drug addict. Her mom was living in a womens recovery shelter. Fresh out of jail for drug charges, she wanted to get her life on a better track. Throughout the past couple of years, I've seen my student's mom go from having nothing to working full time, taking college courses, and moving into her own apartment.

Along the way, my student has relaxed. She concentrates on her work and became the top student in her first grade class. Seeing these two thrive was incredible. But then. Then my student's mom stopped returning my calls for tutoring appointments and the ones she did show up for were cut short because she was late. And she lost oh, about 30 pounds in just over a month.

While I recognized these signs as looming disaster, I couldn't say a word about it. Part of my agreement with the tutoring organization is that I don't ask questions about the family's situation. We don't speak about it unless they bring it up. Now it's been 5 weeks since I've seen them. This girl means so much to me. Her future is in such a fragile place. I want to be there for her. To tell her a million times that she can do whatever she puts her mind to. That there is a world out there that is ready to reward her for her hard work and talents.

But I'm bound to shut the fuck up and see if her mom will take the time to meet with me.

I'm a rule-follower, but screw that. I can't sit back and watch failure when I know I can help.

Monday, November 02, 2009

Strangers and Hugs

Last night, I hugged a homeless crack head on the sidewalk in Oakland late at night.

I had been drinking a tiny bit inside the bar with a couple of friends when I needed some fresh air (I lie. I was smoking. Wasted drunk and smoking to be very clear.), so I stepped outside and the bouncer followed me.

This homeless dude came up to me and asked if I could spare any money. I was like- all I have is this iPhone, this cigarette, and this lighter. But then I checked my pocket and had TWO DOLLARS! I passed it over to the man and wished him a good night.

The bouncer who was guarding me shook his head. He asked where I'm from. Obviously not a local, huh? I was being a bit too sweet to the crackhead homeless dudes for his taste.

To make his job of guarding me more difficult, another homeless crackhead came over and asked me for money. (Oakland is kind of ghetto in most areas, by the way) I told this new guy that I had just given ALL of my TWO DOLLARS away to the last guy. But then I said- you know what?

I'll give you a hug instead of money. Every homeless crackhead needs a hug, you know? So I shocked the living hell out of this fellow and hugged and told him I hope he gets better and that he finds a meal tonight. And he asked me if he could finish my cigarette. I handed it to him and went inside with Mr. Bouncer.

He came over to where I sat down with my friends and told me I need to be careful- that these guys have scabies. I didn't notice any scabies on my crackhead friend, but I did appreciate the bouncer's concern, so I asked him if I should go to the hospital. He didn't think I'd need to do that, but recommended that I don't hug any more of these guys.

It's not like I go around hugging ALL of the homeless crackheads in the Bay Area. I mostly just high five them. Duh.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Empty Wishes

I wish to have a filter that would force me to say NO to staying out all night to party until the sun comes up.

I wish to be more organized and remember deadlines and act on them accordingly.

I wish to be able to eat delicious Mexican food and pasta daily and have a slim, athletic figure without exercising.

I wish to dedicate time to doing laundry before I end up with only ridiculous looking outfits to wear.

I wish to have a job that pays well, is geographically desirable, and has incredibly generous benefits.

I wish to have my essays write themselves.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Learning from mistakes: I'm doing it rong.

SOME people make a mistake, feel stupid, and try not to repeat it. Me? I happily do the opposite. I've been reminiscing and telling stories about the stupid things I've done all weekend and it's just so- um- sad yet funny. I live a full life without worrying too much about where I'll end up. Consequences be damned.

I mean- my dating stories alone could fill 600 hilariously painful pages. I love laughing at myself.

I also love feeling the fiery passion and adrenaline that comes with jumping into major life decisions with both feet.

The feeling that I get when I'm on the verge of a possibly very fun but risky adventure... Haaaaaaa. Can't wait.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Fun game

I've been doing this for several days now.

Step 1: lose all of your phone data
Step 2: respond to text messages as if you know who is sending them
Step 3: guess who the person is and make plans to meet them- text only! No phone calls to see if you guessed right.
Step 4: show up at your meeting spot and see if you guessed right

someday, I'll need to re- enter my phone data.

Thursday, October 01, 2009

Stoopid week

My week started off badly. Sunday night/Monday morning will go down in the history books of Tabbie for all time as one of the top 10 strangest experiences of my life.

Drinking turns some people into completely psychotic dick noses. I'm not going to go into details here because it's too much to put into writing. Maybe someday when we're sharing our 3rd bottle of champagne (or cap classique) of the night, I'll tell you the story. By then, it will be light-hearted and I'll toss in all of the things that make me giggle about it. I'll leave out the parts where I was afraid for my safety and the part where I thought a friend of mine was for sure about to produce a monstrous amount of puke and/or get arrested in Nevada.

After that night, my week got worse. The drunky drunk friend let some information slip that shouldn't have gotten out. Another friend of mine got her feelings hurt. I hate to see my friends hurting.

HATE it.

But there was really not much I could do about this. So I just sent out a warning signal to the other people involved in the mess that there was, in fact, a mess. And I backed off.

Now, I'm not sure where to turn next. It's like my ability to process friendship information is broken. I love every one of the people involved in this icky mess, but they don't love each other.

People I love are being mean to each other. I HATE this.

Also, there's no goddamned clock on this computer screen. It's some kind of bullshit when I can't even use a computer screen to tell the goddammned time. Fuck you, screen.

Wait. It's not the screen's fault that I'm pissed. Still, I hate this stoopid, worthless screen.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Get Fucked

The above is the #1 most used phrase of the weekend. I don't think I've ever said it out loud, but I heard it mucho much from Friday to this morning.

We were in Vegas for my friend Jen's bachelorette party. "We" being my roommates and my Aussie friend. Jen had something like 10 ladies there from all of the different times in her life. Her sister hosted the weekend's events and we toasted and drank and toasted and drank...

I met Jen in high school. We were sophomores and she was already hanging out with all the college kids from the town just next to ours. We hit it off instantly and one of my first memories with her was being at a keg party and being driven home by one of her friends. Jen and I both ended up hanging our heads out the window to puke on the ride home. Gross.

Just a couple of years ago, Jen and I were on a pub crawl together. We were walking back to her place from the last bar we could reasonably stay awake at and she fell down in an alley. There was a garage full of guys watching football that opened to the alley and they all saw this happen. She was super worried about them all seeing her fall down, so she pulled me down on top of her when I went to help her up.

As I was screaming and giggling and trying to get up, she explained to me that she wanted them to think we were just rolling on the ground, making out. That she was totally down there on purpose. Oh... Jen.

So I guess we're used to being trashed wasted drunky tanked around each other. Which is why she handled me falling off a table at the dance club on Saturday night like it was no big deal. I mean, I didn't just fall one time at the club either. It was just once off a table. The next night, she wouldn't allow me to even say I fell. She insists she caught me every time. That I couldn't possibly have fallen with her there to catch me.

She's such a fun friend. I love the ones who are just going to be in my life forever and understand what I need to hear in order to feel okay about acting like a total jackass.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Bet it all!!!

My mom insists on everyone yelling "BET IT ALL!!!" while watching the TV show Jeopardy in her home and someone gets a daily double. I yelled it out at a Mexican restaurant the other day while my roommate and I were picking up dinner.

She sneered at me and said "We're not at your mother's house."

I don't care. It's something that is so ingrained in my psyche that it would literally hurt to fight it.

Tonight, my two roomies were on the couch, watching high quality reality TV programming and eating Carl's Junior takeout. I walked in to the living room to say something really witty and let them admire my beauty for a minute, but was interrupted by the male of the pair. He was mumbling something with a full mouth of burger. Just the way I like him. Wait...

Anyway, my female roomie grabs her dog (apparently, she understands burger mumble) and holds her down. The dog. Just making sure that was clear.

And I go- what's that about? She says- he doesn't like the dog to watch him eat.


Weird, right?


I mean... really? The dog totally hangs out with him all the time, but- HEY! No watching me chew!!!

So my female roomie says something about him being a freak and I stepped in to his defense. Something about "there are weird things that bother me too". But I was silently laughing at him. Really... the dog can't watch you eat?

We were talking outside a little later - mostly me laughing openly at him - and we pinpointed this eating behavior to his mom's strange eating habits. She'll eat like 3 things in the entire food chain. Sliced tomatoes, plain lettuce, and white wonder bread. Maybe hold the bread. So that's PROBABLY where his "issues" stem from.

Moms make us say and do crazy things.

What do you do that comes from your raisin'?

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Epic WIN

I woke this morning at just before 10am, to my personal psychic calling- telling me we'd have to reschedule our appointment for the day. Of course, I immediately thought she had finally got some insight into my true soul and became afraid. So I slept another 30 minutes to celebrate our breakup.

Then, my roomies & I went to our fave breakfast place with our pups. They were closed due to a catering gig for the day. We sadly trekked out to another place near home with crappy food and ate there. I bitches about my life being ruined, but put a brave face on because we had big plans for the day.

It was international talk like a pirate day and we were soon off to a pirate festival nearby.

There was a man swallowing swords that I couldn't watch and a face painter with beautiful breasts and a tendency to lean into her art and piarate men to leer at. Rawr. Errr arrgh. Whatever. Hottie pirates!

Following the fair, my roomies& I scooted out to some secret hot springs down the road and soaked for a few hours while I drowned my sorrows in high quality vodka & red bull. Luckily, I was not at the wheel tonight.

Next, I sleep. Tomorrow, cleaning my room. It is a disaster. Unless I find something(someone) more exciting to do.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Indicators of sleeplesness

Today, I am considering the need for friends.

So much of the time, I feel like having friends is more of a hassle than its worth. Friends hold me accountable to things. Being there for them during happy and sad times. Showing up to events that they give a shit about.

I didn't invite anyone to my own freaking wedding, for serious. Why do I have to show up to yours?

A few of my friends are super people-lovers. They often tell me- oh, you have to meet so and so. You'll love them!
And all I can think is- probably not. I'm chatty and friendly with people I meet generally, but it's not like I want to meet them for drinks later just to chat. I love talking to people and laughing and hearing their stories, but fuck. Then they want me to schlep out to their kid's party on a weekend when I could be vegging out, reading Odd Thomas.

But then. Then I remember that most of my good friends are incredible people. They hug me and ply me with xanex and wine when I'm broken and crying my eyes out. They take me on adventures and hand me toddlers to swing around with on dance floors at their birthday parties. They drop everything and take trips into wine country with me to play with cheetahs. And sometimes they even applaud after incredible singing of karaoke in their living rooms.

So I'll keep being friends with people for now. These ones are worth it, at least.

I fucking need a nap.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Gogogogogogogo Go!

There are times in my life when all I want is everything I don't have.

Currently, I want to take off and start something new. Somewhere new.

I want to live in another country. To run a fantastically successful business and embrace a local culture that is wildly different from my own.

I'll graduate with my MBA in November, the job that I start tomorrow will complete at the end of the year, and my lease is up in February. I've got to move relatively quickly to set this in motion.

Go go go!

Friday, September 11, 2009

batshit crazy for two

I met a man while traveling last month.

He owns a hotel in the Costa Rica Caribbean and after one night at his hotel, he practically begged me to stay another night so that he could take me out and have me with him for a few more hours. He was the one who checked my Aussie friend and I into a great room with an ocean view when we arrived.

Immediately, I could tell that he liked me. It wasn't very well hidden in his eyes or his frequent offers to bring things up to my room personally- extra towels, a bottle of wine, my shopping bags which were light enough to be held with one hand. There is a hotel manager and a maid- surely they could have been as helpful? But no. He was over the top.

It's why, when I was checking out after only a one night stay, he asked me to sit with him and shared his coke light with me. And begged. Pleaded for me not to leave that night. Asked what was more important than spending time with him?

We stayed. He took me out and introduced me to every single local we came in contact with. Some were rude to him and he brushed it off as jealousy- he had money and they didn't. I wasn't buying it, so I cornered one of the guys who was only just civil to my host. I asked him what was up and he confirmed that my guy was regarded as an outsider by many of the locals even though they have all known each other since childhood.


Then, on the dance floor later that night, I guess I got too friendly with another man. We weren't even dancing close, but my host whooshed me out of there and to the next bar with a few harsh words for the other man on the way out. Jealousy already? Really? We only just met. At the next place, he was much more attentive to me-meaning he was never more than 3 feet away and kept asking me to adjust my top. I was wearing a lowcut shirt that highlighted a couple of my greatest assets and he saw other men looking my direction quite a lot.

The next morning, my Aussie friend and I left town, in a rush to the big airport in the city. I didn't expect to hear from my host again, but after a couple days back home, he called. Wanted to know how soon I could manage to come back. Spoke with me about being able to collect me from the city if I could spare just a couple days for him. I was noncommital.

Two days ago, he called again. This time, speaking about how he can't wait for his children to fall in love with the beach and with music as he did as a child. As of yet, he only has a dog. He spoke of his future children. Then, he offered a bold proposal.

He asked if I would go to the Phillipines with him to meet his adoptive family there. He admires and respects his parents and thinks I would adore them and they would love to have me.

Ummmmm... After knowing me for two days? Really?

But who am I to turn the other cheek just because an idea seems crazy?

Wednesday, September 09, 2009


Again, my subject line won't change. Fine, subject line. You win.

In other news, random texts from recent hours:

I have a boomerang.

Exactly, very safe cept for rope burn.

I ran into ur twin in SF today. You are the evil one.

Bye bye baby, see u on the rebound!

Who are you and what did you do with my sister?

Are you back from that awful hippie event?

Have a stick-on bra, size c. C ya soon.

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Too legit to quit

I was just reading a recent post here on the blob blog about how I'm not going to be doing any intentional dating. Well, I haven't gone out of my way, but I have an incredible tendency to fall in love every five minutes.

Can't change my nature, so I just roll with it, Baby.

Since that post many moons ago (3 weeks? 4??), I have had a couple/few mini-romances. Several close encounters of the humankind. But zero true "connections". Two of them, I said "I love you" to. But one was a friend kind of love. She's gorgeous and fun and supportive and a delightful kisser.

The other, I did love in the moment and would have run off with to spend the rest of my week with if he'd encouraged it enough. Yeah, week. Not life. It's just the kind of love I share with guys I met two days ago.

So all this yammering on about how I'm not going to date is really just bullshit. What I should have said is that I'm having commitment issues. But fleeting romance? Bring it on. I hope someone surprises the hell out of me and I'm blinded for more than five minutes at a time.

Saturday, September 05, 2009

Survival of the freakiest

Yesterday, the delightfully hilarious Dirt Princess and I returned from a several day camping trip in the desert.

This wasn't just any camping trip- we went to the Burning Man festival in Black Rock City (Nevada). It's a place where artists and creators of all sorts go to congregate and be free to exress themselves anually. Boy, do they ever know how to let loose.

More on the details later when I'm a bit more rested and not using my nearly dead iPhone to type with...

But I will say this: My third morning there, I woke up, walked down the sandy lane to the porta potty, and saw a scene that proved you can do whatever you want in Black Rock City.

An older man was standing in front of the bathrooms, naked, holding up his bicycle, blowing his nose.

I just giggled and did my business and decided that diving into the cultural experience was my best bet for survival out there.

Saturday, August 29, 2009


Ok so my subject line refused to cooperate with me.

In other news, for the last several days, I was insanely nervous that I was going to produce a child very soon. I was 5 days late for my period. This morning, my dreams of late night feedings and complicated parental relationships were shattered.

I hate the whole monthly visitor process. For a few hours, I was sure that I was going to simultaneously hurl on the floor of Walmart while losing control of my bowels in my pretty new dress. Not a fun time at all. Then I took some delightfully generic Ibuprofen and moved along to a baby shower.

I'm exhausted. Oh, my little sister got married yesterday. She looked amazing. Her husband beamed the whole night. I cried like a baby during the toasts and danced with a high school friend of my dad's. My little brother got freaky on the dance floor with great gramma, who is 97. She's still got the moves.

Tomorrow, I leave for a camping trip in the desert. Ugh. It's gonna be hot. Hot hot hot.

I'm ehxausted. Did I say that already?

Edit: a lady just stopped to tell me she really likes my dress. So glad I didn't mess it up earlier today :)

Monday, August 24, 2009

Stupid girl

Stupid stupid tears.

I shouldn't be crying over this. Over something that I've deemed useless to think about- to spend any more time on. I'm not an incredible idiot. Promise. I know that what I'm crying over is futile. No amount of wishing or talking or lifting a finger will change the fact that I can't have what I want.

But that doesn't stop my feelings from being hurt.

Recently, I was at a party and introduced myself to a boy. His name is Rob. I said to him- Rob was the name of my first love. He broke my heart into a million pieces.

Rob asked me- did you ever pick up all the pieces and put them back together?

I thought about it. Yeah, I did. It took a very long time, but it came back together. But I busted it again. Pretty much all on my own this time, with a little encouragement from a guy I fell really hard for.

Now it's scattered again- everywhere, I keep finding little pieces of it. I'll need a lot of glue to fix it this time. A lot more than last time.

Friday, August 21, 2009

San Jose to Arenal / La Fortuna to Puerto Viejo

I met my Aussie friend in Costa Rica for a 6 day road trip while she waited for her new Visa to process. Girl has been traveling in the US for 3 months and wanted to come back for more.

So I get to the airport and we had decided at the last minute to rent a car. Thought we'd be really super extra brave. Well... there are no street signs in Costa Rica. No one mentioned this to me- ever. And I didn't notice the last time I was there because I wasn't the one driving.

We were supposed to meet between 2:30/3pm in front of the US consulate in downtown San Jose. I got directions from the car rental place and ended up... somewhere else. Somewhere very rainy. Okay, so it was raining everywhere in San Jose just then, but I thought ESPECIALLY where I was driving. After stopping at a few places where I tried out my special brand of remedial Spanish mixed with charades, I found it. American flags flying. Ahhh, what a great feeling.

But no Aussie waiting for me. Apparently, she had wandered off 10 minutes before i finally got there- in search of internets to get in touch with me. I stood under the shelter of my umbrella and waited. My phone rang- it was my roommate. My Aussie friend was chatting online with her from somewhere near by. Yay! A few minutes later, we hugged it out and scuttled back to the rental car around the corner.

She wanted to take me to a delicious local restaurant near where she had stayed the previous night. When we got there, I was surprised to see it was the same exact place where I had my first dinner in San Jose during my trip in 2003. It's a very unique, welcoming restaurant with staff who kissed and hugged us on the way out.

Off to La Fortuna, we went.

It's supposed to be a 3 hour drive, I think. We left at around 7pm and made it by midnight. Not bad, considering a total lack of street signs and a fragile grasp of the local language.

We stayed at Kokoro Resort just up the road from La Fortuna. It was a gorgeous, private getaway in between the Baldi hot springs resort and the bigger, fancier hot springs resort just up the road.

After checking in and looking around a bit, my friend asked about the resort's pool. He told us it was closed for the night, but that we could use it tomorrow.

Oooookay. We prepared a couple of strong cocktails in the room and snuck past our host a little while later to take a quiet dip in the gorgeous pool. The scenery even at night time is breathtaking and the water was perfect. We were careful not to splash and giggle, but I think he knew what we were up to. I gave him silent kudos for thinking of issuing great customer service first, rule enforcement second.

Thus ended my first day and night in what I refer to as "my country". I love it only second to my own. Possibly more, but shhhhh don't tell the patriots.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Somebody stop me

The iPhone really needs a breathalyzer application.

I have a few drinks and send texts and emails that would make even Snoop Dog blush. Jesus, what the hell happens in my brain that I think it's okay to have that shit in writing?


Monday, August 10, 2009

Costa Rica bound

@LAX. 1 Sapphire & tonic double down, 2 flights to go, 1 very cute boy met... :) :) :)
And off I go.

Just arrived in Houston. Walked outside & looked to see if I was standing near a large generator- what was causing this incredible heat? Nothing. It's nature. 6:30am and the heat is stifling. Incredible. Remind me not to go to Houston in the summertime. Ever.

After 3 or so hours of light sleep on the plane, I fear I will collapse somewhere around baggage claim and sleep through my connection. Will locate coffee to fight the urge of sleep.


Yesterday after church, I went to see a psychic.

Yeah, so now I guess that was a strange course of events. Anyhow, it's just how I do things... I never know what the hell I'm going to do from one minute to the next.

I've seen the psychic just once before and she was dead-on about things. Things I doubted heavily until a few weeks after I saw her and stuff started to happen just like she said it would. So I thought it's been a couple months-I wonder what she'll say now.

First, my home life is uncomfortable and the negativity there is unhealthy. Well, yeah. Very uncomfortable lately. But I already knew that. Next, I don't need to worry about finances. Hey lady, I'm thinking- I don't have a job- just like you told me I wouldn't last time! She was not deterred. There is a business I'm working on developing and it will blossom just as it should. I don't see how in the timeframe I'd need it to, but okay. I'll half believe that for now.

There is also a love in my life. A pesky, impossible love that I keep trying to get rid of. She assured me that it will not go away. Well, fuck. But it's so impossible and he's so unattainable and it's really just a silly fantasy. I tried explaining this to the psychic and she quietly listened before disagreeing with me. Fuck.

I'm too karmically negative for things to go my way right now, she says. Too many connections to past experiences. If I continue this way, I will not move forward in a positive way. I may have temporary success. I may be okay with my living situation, find a great job, a new love, but I will inevitably sabotage it all. I think- if past experience is any indication of the future, well... That sounds about right.

And then... Out of the blue... I'll be pregnant by the end of next year. My eyes went wild and my flight response tried to take over. I don't even have a boyfriend! No prospects, no job, no fucking WAY can I have a baby in 2011. But wait... I think- that's still a long way off. Calm down, you.

But what now? I have to clear out my karmic mess and get on track to great success. The lasting kind. So I paid the lady a hefty sum and she's going to work with me and several of her psychic best friends to set me up all fresh and clean. She said this must be done now so that my next adventure in September will not rain down in a great mess. I didn't even tell her about my planned camping trip in September that I'm incredibly worried/excited about.

Phew. I hope this shit works and that my babydaddy is prepared to meet me. Fuck.

Sunday, August 09, 2009

Dream a little dream of me

This morning, I awoke after a dream feeling dread. Pure, unmistakable dread.

I woke up at around 7am to let my dog out to use the little boy's room and did some Facebook commenting while I waited for him to finish his business. During said waiting period, a friend called me.

Said friend and I chatted for a bit, then I let my pup in and went back to sleep. As soon as I was back to dreamland, the friend I spoke with on the phone popped in. To the dream. He and I didn't speak. We kissed passionately. He took me to the bedroom and before my clothes fell off, there was a knock at the door.

My pseudo-mom was at the door. Maryssa... Why was she trying to ruin my wonderful time with this friend in the bedroom? WHY Mom, why???

I tried to get rid of her, but then my pseudo-dad showed up. They sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and telling me about their latest series of dramatic events without being asked. Damn. All I wanted was a few minutes alone with this guy.

Then, dogs barking. Wait. That was my dog. In the room with me. Barking at whomever was up in the house.

Reluctantly, I woke up. And I felt like I should call Maryssa immediately to see why she's showing up in my dreams. But I don't want to hear their latest drama. I really don't. I'm also pretty pissed that she interrupted me with... him. He is delicious and I believe dreamland is the only place I'll be getting to see him.

Fucking bad timing, you know. Dang, I'll call her tomorrow. Even though I know that I'll just be torturing myself because there is always SOMEthing extreme that is going on in her life and she talks for hours and hours.

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Sometimes love comes around and it knocks you down

Just before I took off for South Africa, I broke up with my boyfriend, the rocket scientist.

We had dated for something like a year and a half, took almost two years off, then tried dating again for about six months. It just wasn't there for us- we are polar opposites in almost every way imaginable. I party like it's 1999. I talk to EVERYONE all the time. I talk about traveling, then half-remember to pack a bag on the way out the door for a trip. I think the world is made up of people who mean well.

Just think of the opposite of all those things and you'll get an accurate picture of him. There is nothing wrong with him as a person, but completely wrong for me. We'll still be friends, but won't try the dating thing ever again. He's completely on board with this plan.

So now... I'm single. I don't think I'm very good at being single. Recently, I realized that I'm one of those girls who is ALWAYS dating someone(s).

But I'm taking a break. No intentional dating. No active online dating. No set-ups between friends. Nada. I'm just going to let love come and sweep me off my feet if it chooses to and let it pass me by otherwise.

I have no timetable. I have no obligation to anyone to be in a meaningful relationship with them. I'm going to enjoy this purposeful singlehood.

But I certainly won't turn down an offer of a kiss from a beautiful stranger on my next vacation. It would be criminal to do so, don't you think?

Friday, July 31, 2009

Surprise Adventure

A couple years ago, my mom and I were visiting San Diego at the same time and wanted to go on an adventure.

My sister lives in Oceanside, so she got a few friends together to take a day trip to Tijuana, Mexico. After parking on the USA side of the country border and walking into the downtown area of Tijuana, I saw a big sign for a night club and my eyes lit up with wonder and excitement. I had never been to a night club in Mexico before!

I said to the group: Oh my god, you guys! Let's go there!
Worried looks were tossed my way from everyone in my vicinity. Probably even passers-by worried for this small group of silly tourists.
My sister flat-out said no. She didn't think it was a good idea.
But I am convincing and was determined.
Come on you guys! Have you ever been to a night club in Mexico and DURING THE DAY??? How exciting! Stop being sticks in the mud. Live a little!

And so, we were ushered in by a very welcoming man who stood at the entrance, just waiting for us to make up our collective minds.

As soon as we walked in, I heard some peppy music playing and squinted my eyes to try and see in the darkened club. I followed the man from the entrance as he led us to a long bench seat against a wall on one side of the room.

I thought it was strange that we were all seated at such a long bench and just as my mom sat down next to me, I looked up and finally, my eyes cooperated to see what we had walked into.

A very young-looking girl was dancing around a pole mostly naked on the stage in front of us. My jaw dropped and my stomach turned. SHIT. I just brought my mom to a seedy strip club in Tijuana.
Just as I was about to get up and high-tail it out of there, my mother leaned over speak firmly into my ear: We are having ONE drink and then we're leaving.

Ahhhh, mom. She didn't want to cause a scene, so she played it cool. My sister glared at me and her friends laughed. Dang. They all knew how much shit they'd be able to give me for practically forcing them to go into a strip club in the middle of the day on a family outing.

When we finished our drinks, we departed and it was unanimously decided that I was no longer allowed to choose activities for the remainder of the day. Probably for the remainder of my life on family outings, actually.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

RIP Tina

An old friend of mine passed away last week.

I met Tina through one of my oldest friends, Michael. He and I were next door neighbors when we were super little- he was still in diapers when we met. Of course, I was already potty-trained and 6 months younger. Go me!

We attended kindergarten together and his mom watched her 3 boys and my sister and I every day after school for years and years. Our moms are still best friends.

Michael is... not smart. He is actually pretty damn stupid, but I love him. Flaws and all.

Tina and Michael met when they were about 20 years old. She was lots of fun to hang out with, but came from a life of being shuffled from foster home to juvenile hall to her completely fucked up mom's house back to foster home. So she was a little bit reckless.

Coupled with Michael's lack of brains and her carelessness, they made a baby. Tina was horribly sick through the entire pregnancy. She had to be on bed rest very early-on and was hooked up to a fluids IV at home. Michael wasn't a big help to her, but his mom let her move in until the baby was born so that she could make sure Tina and her future grand baby were taken care of.

Tina recruited me to help her through the delivery. She was afraid that Michael would bolt from the hospital the second she screamed at him in anger. The day came for her to finally give birth and we all rushed to the hospital at an ungodly early hour in the morning.

She delivered with the assistance of a mid-wife. Michael, surprisingly, made it to the hospital and was not looking terribly uncomfortable until Tina had to start pushing. A nurse held one of Tina's legs back while I held the other. Michael looked like he was going to pass out and mumbled something about needing to get out of the room.

I knew how important is was for Tina to have him there, so I held Michael tightly with my free arm. The baby boy was born and two ecstatic parents cooed over him and both cried with joy.

Unfortunately, the joy didn't last between Michael and Tina in their relationship. He got bored or distracted or forgot he was a baby daddy and went off to start a new relationship with another lady. Tina moved into her own apartment and relied on public assistance for her income. Michael was almost completely uninterested in spending time with their son.

Michael went on to have 2 more children with 2 more ladies in the next few years. Like I said, not so smart. He has neither the resources nor the dedication to be a good father to any of them.

Unfortunately, Tina went back to what she knew- living recklessly. Drugs, stealing, drinking, constant drama. She got tossed in jail a few times, but didn't slow down at all. She couldn't concentrate on ruining her own life while raising her son, so Michael's mom and dad stepped in and he has lived with them since the time he could crawl. Tina didn't see her son for years.

Last year, Tina was thrown in jail for yet another drug charge. Just before she was sentenced, she noticed a lump in her breast. During sentencing, she asked the judge to allow her to suspend her entry into jail so that she could seek medical attention. He assured her that it would be taken care of while she served her time. They would provide her with medical attention during her 6 months in jail.

But they didn't. By the time Tina was released, she was sick with cancer from her head to her toes. It went from something possibly minor to an all-out war against her system. She knew that this was it for her- that she wouldn't survive this attack. Tina went through every kind of cancer treatment possible to extend her time on Earth so that she could try to right some wrongs.

She spent time with her son. She stayed at her father's bedside while he died. She spent more time with her son.

Then, she died. I'm not sure if her son knew her well enough to feel the incredible pain of saying goodbye. But knowing Tina, she felt every last second of every day she didn't spend with him. If she had known that her life was going to be so short, she would have been there. She would have tried harder to be a good mother. I can't imagine the pain she went through- knowing the choices she had made were so thoughtless.

I just hope that she has found peace. That she connected with her son, who desperately needed to feel loved by his mother. And I hope that Michael, at some point, realizes that he needs to put his desires on the back burner and give his son a father.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Babysitting is not my calling

I am currently babysitting my two year old niece.

My sister is about to produce her next child. Any day now, a little nephew will join us. So, sis is running around, finishing up stuff that needs to get done prior to his birthday and I'm on babysitting duty.

Honestly, I'm not good at it, but she's still in one piece and so am I. So far.

We went outside to play a little while ago and I couldn't really stop her from having a great time, splashing around in the bit of water that was left in her kiddie pool. And then putting a bucket kinda dripping wet onto her head.

I mean, she's pretty convincing with her adorable language that only she understands, you know? And after playing at the park for awhile, I was a tad bit tired. Now, she's watching Barney (thank goodness for purple dinos) and tearing apart a package for a stuffed animal that she dropped in the dog's water bowl earlier.

That's okay, right?

Saturday, July 11, 2009

And now, for pictures of South Africa

My host and favorite new friend, Marcia. She did not actually roll in the grass. Just rested like a proper lady.

Dear Patrick, It's winter. The water is freezing. Love, Tabbie.
Dear Tabbie, I don't care. The ocean calls me. Sincerely, Patrick.

Apparently, penguins bite. I did not verify this with a science-based approach, but I believed the warning signs.

I didn't notice how gorgeous this was until I saw it on the computer screen. Funny how that happens, huh? This is the beach in Simonstown, where the penguins are.

Some rules were not made to be broken.

Petting cheetahs is A-ok!

I stopped rolling around on the grass, laughing til I snorted, to snap this. Trees! Sky!

Lunch at a vineyard?- Yes, please. More wine, please.

Le Meems sent me on a mission to get a bottle of Cap Classique. And get it, I did.

Local wine from the cafeteria atop Table Mountain

The tippy top of a mountain and the sea from the tippy top of Table Mountain


Friday, July 10, 2009

You can't choose your family

I was just reading something that one of my cousins wrote and was offended. I should know better than to pay attention to what she says, but I kind of can't help it. She's family and I want to know what's happening in her life.

But... She's so cunty. It's just how our cultures collide, I guess. I'm one sort of person and she's- well, Mormon. And not even a good one, but she acts all holier than thou. My other Mormon cousins have pretty much the same views, but the walk the talk. They live the values that they are taught. And they're really damn sweet about it.

Then earlier, I was thinking- hey it was my dad's birthday a few days ago and Fathers day recently. I didn't give a shit about him enough for even a phone call either time.

How sad is that? On the one hand, I have some super spectacular family that warms my heart. On the other? Some of my family can totally suckit.

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

Home, sweet home

I don't feel like crying anymore.

I've had the giggles all day. Even when I went for my torturous waxing this afternoon, I was giggly. Deanna is working at a new salon that hands out WINE for every client. THANK YOU, SALON!!! And she said it's really slow lately, so I should drop by just to chill, have a glass on the patio overlooking the marina, and chat. I love my waxer.

So- I am not unpacked yet, but I should probably do that tonight. We have some couch surfers coming in, but I forget who they are/how many they are. It's been awhile since we said they could come. Whatever- new people, new adventures. We shall see if they are rad, hmm?

I talked to my mom on the phone for the first time in a couple of weeks today and it took me about 15 minutes to give her a whole rundown of my trip to Africa. Most of it was stories from dance floors. Guess that's just the way I prefer to spend my time. Also, I broke my foot from so much dancing. Lame!

Mom told me my sister is having some issues with her pregnancy- she's at 35 weeks and her mucus is gone or something and she's dilated. I don't know how long babies are supposed to stay in for, but mom says it's too early for my nephew to meet the world. I'm thinking I should shoot down to San Diego for at least a few days to help my sis out so she can rest. She's working until Friday, then she's off to put her feet up and keep the baby in for as long as she can. I'm pretty sure my niece won't mind me being around either- we have super lots of fun together.

Monday, July 06, 2009

Traveling is hard.

I'm finally at a point where I can't wait to be home.

I've had a spectacular vacation and made some great new friends. Saw penguins on the beach, pet a cheetah, drank far too much wine. Rolled in the grass laughing, stayed at a backpacker, was blinded by strobes on a dance floor. Attended a FIFA world cup final, played with kitties and a dog. Met an interesting character or two or three.

All I want now is... rest. Cuddling with my puppy, laying in the bathtub, swinging in the hammock on my roof, and a good long cry. I'm a cryer- it makes me feel better.

40 hours or so from now, I'll have exactly what I want.

Friday, July 03, 2009

African Dance

Last time I was in Africa, I visited villages and saw how the locals spent their downtime. Dance routines and songs and all of the family members are involved. We enjoyed being able to witness the talents in such unlikely places.

This time in Africa, I'm in the city. No villagers with routines here, but there is dancing. Oh my, there is quite a lot of it.

Two nights ago, my Couchsurfing host Marcia and I went to a gay bar called Bronx in Cape Town. The music was loud, the dance floor was welcoming. We shook our asses to the beat until 2am. Ehxausted, we left.

Last night, we met up with the wonderfully gorgeous and sweet Sid (wish I could insert a link- but I'm on the iPhone). She reads & comments on Le Meems blog "Hallelujah". As soon as le meems heard that I was coming out here, she messaged Sid and told her (not asked! Bah!) to take me out while I was here.

We had 1/2 price cocktails then went to a fancy place where they were giving Salsa dancing lessons. Unfortunately, we were just a tiny bit late for the lessons, so we watched the last hour or so. The music came on at the end of it and a few of the ladies with us went out onto the floor and did some impressive Salsa moves, considering we'd missed the class.

I wanted to shake my groove thing a bit harder, so Marcia and I made our way out and to a nearby club called Jade. Hot, sweaty, packed. They played Michael Jackson and hip hop and we climbed over a couch into the VIP area. It's just how we do. Too hot, too packed though. So we went back to Bronx.

As soon as we walked in, we were specially greeted by a few men we'd met the previous night. They were happy to see us back. After leaving at 3am, hopping in the nearest cab, and getting home, I slept til after noon.

My feet hurt, but I'm feeling happy. A little joy does wonders for the soul.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Don't look back

Don't look back don't look back don't look back.

I chanted to myself over and over again after I said goodbye and boarded the escalator to the next floor up. Tears in my eyes. Don't fucking look back. This is goodbye, not see you soon. Goodbyes like this don't get a look back. And they don't get tears.

Goddamnit don't cry. And do fucking not look back.

And then I did. And I was reminded of the story in the bible where the one true god demanded that a family flee from their city that he was destroying and told them they'd be doomed if they looked back on it. The woman did and she turned to a pillar of salt.

But I stepped off the escalator and was still whole. Except for the tears that had escaped along the way. But those don't matter. I'll make more later.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Jetlag or?

I arrived in Johannesburg on Saturday morning after 1 domestic and 3 international flights. The plane I was meant to take from Minnesota to Amsterdam had mechanical problems, so we got off the plane and waited 4 hours for the replacement. My connection to Johannesburg left 10 minutes before I arrived in Amsterdam, so I boarded the next flight to Frankfurt and finally to my destination.

After 2 days of travel, I wanted nothing more than a shower and a change of clothes. Unfortunately, my luggage was left in Amsterdam, so I got the shower and went shopping.

My luggage still isn't with me, but I have a really cute new hat, jacket, scarf, etc. I've mainly been going pantiless because I forgot to buy extras. It's actually kind of liberating.

Off to a big soccer match between Brazil & USA tonight then Cape Town tomorrow. I'm looking forward to getting my groove on with the locals there.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

So I said to the plane

Will you use your wings to take me somewhere far, far away?

And the plane said yes.

Adventure awaits me in South Africa.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Driving is hard.

January 9, 2006, I was driving my little Miata (that I just gotten back from the mechanic. WooHoo!) and made a grave mistake.

I was in unfamiliar territory - my sister Maria and I had gone out to try a Chinese restaurant a town several miles from my home. I was exiting to go across the street and paused a bit at the exit because there was something a little bit off about the ramp, but it was dark and it looked fine after all and so I continued forward.

Stupid, stupid, stupid curb!!! And Stupid Miata and stupid driver behind the wheel!!!

So there I was with Maria, stuck on the curb. My back wheels were still touching pavement, but just barely. We got out and surveyed the damage. Two guys pulled over to offer to help and Maria goes- Wow! This is a great way to pick up guys. And I thought- oh yeah. Keep that one in my pocket for future reference. Right now I'm just worried about my adorable little car and so the guys walked over and decided what to do.

Can I just take this moment to thank mother nature for the invention of boys and muscles and ingenuity? I love boys.

SO- they decided I should get in and hit the reverse while they both lifted the front of my car to push it back. It worked right away and I thanked them both profusely.

I would have loved to get the very cute boy's attention under other circumstances, but I don't think he could ever really respect me after seeing me drive right off a curb.

My car was fine. Maybe a new little noise, but it kept going until I traded it in for my granny car a month later. I decided not to drive off any more curbs.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

As fate will have it

Sometimes in life, we reach a turning point.

It's a point in time when there are so many possibilities. So much opportunity. Twisting, winding paths. I'm there. At a turning point.

I was laid off from my super corporate basement cubicle job at a giant company last week. I was ELATED. As the vice president of my department was breaking the news to me in her office with the human resources guy there to explain the process and the severance package, I was stifling the urge to do cartwheels.

They were both shocked when I thanked them for this. This wonderful vacation. They're paying me 6 full months of salary plus a bonus just to get me out of their hair.

My department was dissolving because funding had been cut to a minimum for the project we were working on. All over the company, they are laying folks off and cutting costs. Everything had been moving at a snail's pace and I wanted out of there with a fiery passion. I got what I wanted and it was everything I could do not to squeal with delight when I started to pack up my office and wheel the boxes out.

Freedom. Sweet, delicious time.

But now. Now I have some decisions to make. What the hell am I going to do? I'm not worried about finding work. I have a usable skill set and a stable employment record. My resume looks good and I'll work on it to make it even better.

The decisions about which job to take aren't on the top of my mind. They are about where to go from here.

Vacation. What to do, what to do...

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

let's talk about tact: Then/Now

Resurrected post from 1 year ago today:

My grandfather passed away in the early hours this morning.
Know how I found out?
A text message from my aunt.
I was prepared for this news, but who fucking sends a text to announce a family member's death?
Then, not 20 minutes later, I got a text from my dad- grandpa is gone.
And I thought... Did anyone in this family learn anything about tact-Ever???
As I was steaming about that, my dad calls.
He apologized for waking me, but not for sending that message by text. What an ass. After I asked if he was okay and he confirmed that yes he was, we were very thankfully done talking. (FYI I'm not a fan of my dad)

Seriously, texting death messages?? There is a time and place for texts. This isn't it. Assholes.

And a new take:

It's been a year now. My grandfather was the only constant male figure that I looked up to throughout my life. He was kind and generous and FUNNY and cuddly and patient and so so intelligent.

He was a thorasic cardiovascular surgeon and the president of a mormon temple and a dedicated gardener. A very busy man. He always and forever made time for his family and showered us with love. He taught me how to play well with others and to respect people from all cultures, no matter what differing views we have.

Three days after he passed, my grandmother fell in her front yard. She broke her shoulder. Along with her mental anguish, she was in terrible pain and couldn't do much at all for herself.

She had a complete breakdown. Her docs prescribed some pain killers, antidepressants, and valium for her. She cried all day and all night- hardly sleeping because her best friend from the time she was in 5th grade was gone.

My aunt and uncle recently rescued her from a pit of despair and checked her into a hospital. She transferred out to a convalescent home about a week later. She is in physical and mental rehabilitation and finally feels human and ready to live again. Tonight, they're taking her out to dinner- to celebrate grandpa's life and to close the book on grandma's deep mourning.

As soon as she is capable of living on her own again, they'll take her home and set her up with a maid/cook 3 times a week to make sure she has every chance possible to relax and to meet up with the other widows in her area. She knows of 30 just off the top of her head.

Seeing my grandma go through this after the loss of her husband scares the shit out of me. What if I end up giving my heart to someone and they're gone one day. Ouch. I can't imagine how much it hurts.

Grandpa, I hope you've found peace.

Monday, June 08, 2009

Sometimes, a picture really does say it all

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

I am so professional... NOT!

I just left a little team meeting at work in the basement.

I was in my boss' office with a couple other staff members to work on some strategery stuff. One of my teamies asked about where our boss got the content in a presentation slide.

She said "I just pulled this out of my behind."
He said "Well, it looks really good."

I, of course, giggled and looked down at my notebook where I had been scribbling notes throughout the meeting.

Then, he said "Considering where it came from."

It's a good thing my team has gotten used to my childish sense of humor.

Monday, June 01, 2009

Dear Liver,

I know that I don't treat you well and that sometimes, I forget all that you do for me. You work tirelessly to process everything that I throw at you and there isn't any overtime pay. I just want you to know that I appreciate it. I appreciate YOU. Lots and lots.

Tabbie. Like Cabbie, with a T.

P.S. I'm so sorry about this weekend. Beer, vodka, champagne, and wine aren't supposed to mix well. But you make it work! Again, thank you thank you thank you.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Countdown to chips and beer in 3...2...


I'm finishing up my last few minutes of "work" before heading out to happy hour and trivia night at the Mexican place close to work.

I was supposed to either win or lose a bet today and probably buy the first round of silver bullets, but that fell through. The bet was on who was going to get into more trouble with our boss today: me or my co-worker. The one in less trouble had to buy drinks.

Thing is, neither of us got yelled or scowled at. Somehow, we pulled it off! YES!!! Our boss doesn't think we're fucking up! Ahhhh. Nice.

So I'll buy my own beer and eat chips and "slasa" and get smarter in order to play trivia against the other happy hour-ers.

4 minutes..... this has been the longest end of day ever.

3.... ugh. I can't wait!

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

You look like you could use a little sunshine!

Over Thanksgiving weekend last year, my roommate and I went on a road trip. First, to my mom's house way up in Northern California for karaoke, drunken uncles, and heaps of comfort food. Then, off to milk a cow in the countryside. Next, we visited a closed down haunted inn way up in the mountains. And then, dropped by the most interesting bar we've ever been to. My dog, Regis, was allowed to go in with us. Lovely.

On our way back to Southern California, we stopped over at our friend's house for a tree decorating party and debauchery. After the party was over and most everyone had gone home, a small set of us was still rockin out and wanted to dance dance dance.

Off we went, to Moe's Alley- with our delightful wigs and permagrins ready to party.

The three of us ladies were taking a break out on the back patio when one of the two of them noticed a couple arguing in the corner. I guess it was getting out of hand. There was some shoving and grabbing- no full on punching or anything. A lover's quarrel. The ladies looked concerned. I told them it would be okay- of course at this point, I was in love with everything and had a little trouble remaining upright. The ladies told me to go stop them from arguing.

I waltzed right over to them, got in real close because they were all huddled up to argue as intensely as possible. I looked at them both and sing-songed "You two look like you could use a little sunshine!"

The only possible next step that I saw was to instigate a group hug, let them both try on my wig, and lead them out to the middle of the floor to boogie down with us. They were laughing and having a wonderful time. She looked like Faith Hill and we all got along great.

The couple ended up driving us back home and staying up to dance dance dance with us at the apartment until late at night when I finally told them lights out. Faith kissed me and Regis goodnight and she walked out hand in hand with her man.

Sometimes, all you need is a touch of sunshine to get you out of your funk.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Adventures in sleeping

I have stayed with the same couch surfing host in San Francisco 3 times now.

The first time I stayed, my friend Melissa and I were sharing the sofa bed in the living room. We went to bed in the wee hours of the morning. I got up to use the loo and I must have been disoriented (verrry drunk) and ended up choosing the dining room table as my bed for the rest of the night. Melissa got up, wondered where I was, and saw me sleeping on the table like a body in a coffin- perfectly straight, hands at sides. I remember wondering why the bed was so uncomfortable.

The next time I stayed, it was a surprise visit. I decided to rock it out and dance til 6am with Melissa and went back to the house with her to crash for a few hours. That time, I had to wee again and, on the way back to the living room, decided I'd just sleep on one side of my host's bed. He wasn't using it and didn't mind sharing the blankets.

This time, I took a full tour of sleeping surfaces. Our first night there, the Aussie couch surfer and I were sharing the guest bed. Only, when we got back from a dance club at 3am, there were people still up, hanging out in the living room! I was feeling super social (verrry drunk) and stayed up to chat while the Aussie went to sleep. I guess the little after party ended while I was napping (passed out) on the couch- half sitting with my head tilted against the cushions. Snoring, I'm sure. My host's best friend was on the other side of the couch, same sleeping position as me. I covered him up with the blanket and made it to the guest bed for about 2 hours of comfy sleep.

Last night, we were moved to the living room to sleep, as we had 2 more people sleeping over. We got in late, as usual, and everyone went straight to bed. I was rocking out to my iPod and wanted to have a bath and just 2 more glasses of wine before bed. I got in the bath at around 4:30 in the morning and woke up to cold water a couple hours later. Dang! At least I was clean...

I relocated to the mattress in the living room, right next to the Aussie and Melissa.

I may or may not have to purposely sleep somewhere odd the next I am in the city. My host recommended the laundry room.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Bad decisions

I'm going to make some this weekend.

Off to San Francisco, I go. There are many lady couch surfers I will be meeting up with in the city. Parties, music, dancing (only a little. plomise.), substance abuse... Ah, long weekends. How I love thee.

The Aussie couch surfer who I had super lots of fun with a couple of weeks ago will arrive at my home tonight and we're driving up together in the morning. We've been invited to several parties and I'm not sure which we'll choose. But I'm saving most of my liver, etc. for Sunday night.

For the arrival of the great and powerful Dirt Princess. Praise cheeses, let's share bathroom stalls in crowded clubs and PLEASE remember I'm in there with you this time :)

Can't wait.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Forgot the car

My friend Wendy and I worked together at a hardware store and lived together in our tiny little town when we were 19/20. We went out and got wasted one night at a party and somehow made it back home. Neither of us remembered who drove us back, or where we left the car, but we had to be at work by 9am.

While I showered, Wendy called her step-dad to come pick us up and take us to work. We'd find the car later-after the hangovers wore off and we were done with work for the day.

We both got all ready for the day in our matching store shirts and heard Shawn pull up, so we went out to the driveway. And there was Wendy's car. Also in the driveway. Shawn was looking at us like we had three heads each- if we had the car, why did we need a ride?!?!? Oops.

I drove Wendy's car to work and Shawn took Wendy in his truck so that he could lecture her the whole way to the store.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Questions from a Psychoanalyst

I've spent the last several days in the close company of an Australian couch surfer who also happens to be a psycho analyst. Some things she asked me made me a bit uncomfortable- like how I tend to get in the therapist's office when they ask me "how does that make you feel?"

Q: Do you think I'm attractive?
A: Yes. You're lovely
Q: Are you attracted to me?
A: (Oh shit- is she hitting on me? Oh god.) I try not to go there - I'm trying to be a good girlfriend, so I really shouldn't even consider actually BEING attracted to anyone else.

Yay! Passed that one... right? Next was:

Q: Which perfume do you like better- this one... or this one?
A: I like this one better - it's not as spicy as the other
Q: What do you like about this one?
A: It's just more delicious is all.

She put the good one on. The other one smelled like fennel. Phew. And next!

Q: Do you like this dress for the wedding... or this one?
A: Ooooh- that one is gorgeous! Look at the material. It shines. I love the way it falls.
Q: What do you think this dress says about me?
A: It says chic sophistication. Very New York.
Q: Is it too dressy though?
A: It's a wedding. I think it will be fine.
Q: This other one- what does it say about me?
A: It says you know how to have a good time.
Q: Does it make me look slutty?
A: (oh crap.) Not at all- it's just more relaxed than the other one, but still very chic and expensive-looking.
Q: How much does it look like I spent on it?
A: I have no idea. Either dress will be great.
Q: But which one do you think is more expensive?
A: Ummmm... the more relaxed one.
Q: How could you tell?
A: You said it's from Paris and that's a fancy place!

I'm exhausted. Usually I'm asked general questions and can get away with completely generalized answers. I didn't expect to get the third degree from every answer I chose. It was kind of like an inquisition, but a pleasant one where my inquisitor took her shirt off a bunch and showed me what was under her fishnet stockings.

Monday, May 11, 2009

A night "out"

When partying at gay bars, keep your fantastic boobs covered up.
Leaving them out in a tank top for men to see may lead to:
Uninvited motorboating
Getting bit hard enough to leave a huge bruise
Having one of the hottie gays take your number to hang out "some time" and getting 3 calls within 2 hours of saying goodbye
Accidentally getting kissed hard on the lips by a flamingly gay boy. No tongue.

These are all tips from me to you, based on a- whoa. 4th call from hottie Elvis boy. Says I have the best boobs ever and something about laying pipe all over LA? WTF. I told him I'd google that. Laying pipes... Any input?

Friday, May 08, 2009

Cultural surprises

I have an Aussie couch surfer staying with me for a few days and I really like her.

Here are some reasons why:
She says the letter "H" like "haich". It's funny cool.
She uses the term "gift box" for a girl's down-belows.
She didn't know what a pearl necklace meant, other than a piece of jewelry and I got to explain it to her.
She said she was wearing "runners" (her shoes!)
She was a great teammate last night in a winning game of pool against a Brit and a big scary dude in a dive bar.

And finally, she's convinced me to muck up work or something and go get a mani/pedi right now.

All hail Australians!

Creativity or Lack Thereof

Is that even how thereof is spelled? What a strange word. Maybe I should start using spell check here. Meh, why start now though?

So- what this is really about has nothing to do with spelling or with my technical skills or lack thereof.

This is about "jokes" in my household. I noticed this morning that we tell the same joke over and over and it's starting to get old. It goes like this:

Person 1: blah blah blah insult.
Person 2: Your face.
Person 1: Your mom's face.
Person 2: How dare you.

I think we need some new material.

Thursday, May 07, 2009

Don't drink and drive

Liquor may lend to forgetfulness, stupidity, and scary partial memories. Case in point:

Wendy and I were out drinking late on a night when we were about 19/20 years old. She decided to drive us home because we had to be at work the next morning. At some point along the deserted highway, I started to feel ill, so she pulled over.

I got out and lost my last keg stand-worth of beer in the gravel while she got out of the drivers seat, fell because she couldn't walk so well, and crawled around the car to where I was. I finished my puking just when she announced that she was too drunk and couldn't see to drive anymore.

So I told her I was ok now and I could finish the trip home. But I couldn't walk so good either, so I crawled around to the drivers seat and pulled myself onto the chair behind the wheel. Great. I was ready to go.

I guess we eventually made it home, because that's where we woke up the next morning- bright and early and ready to serve customers. It's scary to think of how much we risked by driving that drunk.

Monday, May 04, 2009

Conflict, Schmonflict

Some people run from conflict.
Some people thrive on it.

I have a mixed relationship with it. By mixed, I mean that I avoid it and hate it and can't even begin to describe the fear that I have of it.

I don't mind arguing- as long as I know that the stakes are low low low. If it's with a customer service representative, then it's their job to argue with me. I don't mind that. If it's with someone over which is bigger- 1/3 or 3/4- I don't mind that either because there is nothing invested for either of us in the correct answer (I was wrong on that one, mmmkay?).

But when there is something real and bothersome... Or something that could hurt someone's feelings- I avoid conflict like the plague. Or the Swine flu, to be more current and to add to panic.

For example: When my roomies and I moved into our new place, we had a moving truck. There was definitely enough space for the truck to park on the side of the house, but the neighbor's truck was parked there. My delightful roommate, GB, asked me to go see if he'd move the truck since I'd already met him and had been talking to him already.

The idea of asking him to move his truck scared the hell out of me. I couldn't bring myself to do it and she huffed and hemmed and went over there herself. And he moved the truck. I told her I was too shy to go over there myself, but she didn't buy it. I don't blame her either- I'm generally pretty chatty and I have a tendency to talk to strangers. A lot.

It's just- what if he had said no? What the hell would I have done? And would that have made living next to him completely terrible for the whole year that we're leased for? It was just too much to handle.

So I'll live with things and let things get to me. I'll totally blame myself for letting things bug me when I could just ask people nicely to stop/start doing something different. Maybe it's a fear of rejection.

Or maybe I just need another drink... Yeah, I think that will help.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

This might shock you

I am not a model citizen.

So there, it's out. I know you're surprised. Because really, I seem like I do everything right all the time. Follow all the rules.

Okay, so I'm a bad liar. Whatever.

I was thinking this morning, on my way to work- AM I IN MY LANE? AM I SUPPOSED TO BE DRIVING THIS DIRECTION??? And that minor freak-out reminded me that even when I'm okay, when I'm doing stuff right, I doubt myself.

But I doubt myself even more when I'm doing stuff wrong. Like when... I don't want to get into what I'm doing that isn't above-board. I want to keep a shiny, bright image going here for the most part.

Let's just say that sometimes, I fuck up. Often I do. Continuously. And I do give a shit that maybe it's negatively impacting my life.

But then, I do a lot of stuff right. Like I meet my deadlines at work and it's high quality stuff I'm producing. I get really excellent grades in school for an MBA program and I help my teammates with their work. I volunteer for an organization that I believe in. I call my grandmas at least every few weeks, just to say hi and let them know that they are loved.

At some point, I like to think that the good and bad- the right and wrong cancel each other out and I get to be just... neutral. Just regular. But then, I think- that can't be right. I need to be "good" and "pure" and... ?

But I don't think it's possible. I'm too set in my ways, too tempted by the notsogood side of things. Of myself. I think I'm screwed.

If only therapy could fix "screwed", I'd be all over it.

Monday, April 27, 2009

The creamed corn episode

I've always been a picky eater. It drove my mom BANANAS when she had to cook for me and I'd refuse to eat whatever it was.

I was a natural vegetarian- never cared for any kind of meat that I could identify as having been an animal. Hot dogs and pepperoni were fine, chicken and steak was not. It was a total mental sickfest in my head when I tried to eat meat. Gross.

Mom was always having to feed my sister and I simple foods- my sister refused to eat anything that tasted weird and I refused to eat meat, squash, brussels sprouts, mushrooms, and any kind of squash. I still do. And she still does too. Funny how some things never change.

So, mom went shopping one time when I was about 4 or 5 and accidentally picked up some creamed corn instead of the regular stuff that we loved. She felt bad that she had gotten the wrong thing, but figured she'd still try to get us to eat it. She was a single mom, trying to raise 2 kids on a tiny income and it's all she could do to keep food on the table, much less go get another can of corn because we weren't interested in the one she already bought.

My sister and I saw the messy mush of corn on our plates and pitched a fit. My sister gave in and ate hers, but I couldn't do it. It was mushy. And looked gross. And the goddamned trusty cat was not waiting for my food droppings under the table this night (he was soooo fat from hanging out with me at the table!).

I sat. And stared at the hallway. And didn't eat my corn. Mom lost it a little and went off about how unappreciative I am and yeah. I was. And I wasn't eating her fucking creamed corn.

She got up and tried to feed it to me, in one of those frantic "WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS BRATTY ASSHOLE CHILD" moments. It wasn't happening- I was a bratty asshole child and would not open my mouth to eat the stupid creamed corn. So mom did what any frazzled and crazy mother would do- she shoved an entire spoonful up my nose.

Creamed corn. In my nostril.

I have no idea what happened after that- she probably felt like a jerk and washed me up and sent me to bed. And now, looking back, I can laugh about it. I can only imagine how pissed off she had to be to actually shove creamed corn up my nose. I hope I am not cursed with a child as assholey as I was.

Friday, April 24, 2009

I'd like to thank the academy... I mean The Silver Bullet

I won GOLD in the darts tournament last night!
A gold medal!
My team of four really freaking competed hard. It was intense.
We had to play a game to get onto the score board, win it, then play the winning teams of other matches 4 times. Or 5 times. I don't count good.
The more Coors Lights I consumed, the more bullseyes I hit. Once, I even got 2 in one turn. That's 2 out of 3 darts hitting my target!
Ahhhh, I love winning.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

I coulda been a contendah

Tomorrow night, I'm competing for the 3rd year in a row in a corporate darts tournament.

My arm hurts like MURDER from practicing, hitting the bulls eye again and again. I've been getting better at it and have been using the Silver Bullet (coors light beer) as inspiration. It helps me to aim. And to talk mad shit to the competition.

I hope I don't totally fuck up and let my darts fly off in all directions during the competition. I've never won during this particular sporting event and don't necessarily expect to tomorrow. I mainly want to be sure not to embarrass the company that I work for.

Then, on Saturday, I'm competing in a grilled cheese competition. My roommate and I won 3rd place for a sammich last year and we expect to do even better this year.

I have butterflies in my stomach from the anticipation of this competition. I can't believe the butterflies found their way in through all the cheesey fatty goodness from all the taste test-testing and grill practicing I've been doing all week.

Eeeek! I need another trophy. Must. Win. Big. This. Week.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Happy Holiday

I called my friend Wendy yesterday to wish her a happy 4/20. I do this every year and have since the year we met. Even when we lived together, I called and left a message on the answering machine, wishing her a happy holiday.

Yesterday when she answered the phone, she didn't say hello. She said "DO NOT TELL ME you're calling to wish me a happy 4/20! You're still doing that? I can't believe you're still doing that!"

Yes, Wendy. I am.

And on the day following, for years, I'd wish her little sister-my other best friend-a happy 4/21. Wendy's sister Jenny has always been late for everything. She'd always want to smoke a bowl (of reefer) at exactly 4:20 in the afternoon, but she would consistently miss it by a minute. Just one minute!

So I started a tradition of wishing her a happy 4/21. We laughed so much about her trying and failing over and over to hit 4:20 on the dot. I'm not sure she ever did. She had a great time, making fun of herself for missing it by one minute, so I didn't feel the least bit guilty calling her year after year, the day after I called Wendy.

I wish I could call her today. I really liked that tradition. And I miss her laugh- I can almost hear it now.

Friday, April 17, 2009

The Velvet Bow

I used to work for a completely insane, drugged up, brilliantly talented dog groomer named Dave.

My friend Billy worked for him first. Then, Billy went to jail for drugs and Dave was without an assistant. Billy knew I had just gotten canned from my job (I was late every day for a year and a half. Oops.) and told Dave that he should ask me if I wanted to replace him.

So there I am, sitting in my living room, smoking the reefer and wondering how I'm going to afford next month's rent when Dave walks in. Just waltzed right into my house and introduced himself.

I knew who he was through Billy, but we had never met.

It was kind of funny to me that he didn't knock or think to at least stop in the doorway for a quick "yoohoo" before strolling in, but it wasn't uncommon. My home was a welcoming place at the time. The door was never locked and I often found friends hanging out at my place when I returned from wherever I was. It's not like I had anything to steal when I was that young, in my first apartment.

Back to Dave- he told me that he needed me to come work for him. He'd train me and I could schedule grooming appointments around MY schedule- he was flexible. Wow, what a great deal! No job search. No filling out applications. No driving to work even- he was a few blocks away.

I ended up working for Dave at the Velvet bow for about 9 months. Over that time, he got more and more strange, but he still paid me and I learned a lot about dogs and grooming, so I didn't mind much. The benefits were great too- he'd leave a pipe full of reefer in the bathroom for me, with instructions to turn the fan on in there to smoke so customers wouldn't smell it. AND he'd always leave a 6-pack of beer in the fridge and encourage me to have some throughout the day.

Things started to fall apart between Dave and his very straight & narrow wife and he started to have trouble with the law- something about the sherrifs getting pissed at Dave for shooting his rifle on his acreage late at night. He liked to do target practice in the dark.

He stopped showing up to work when I had appointments booked for him and I certainly wasn't about to try the super fancy cuts that he did on the dogs I booked for him, so we lost a lot of customers and I wasn't making as much money, and I left. On good terms though, no hard feelings.

I guess he and his wife broke up and he continued to get weirder- he showed up at the bar where my sister worked about a year after I left. He was wearing a bathrobe and was rolling on the floor. They asked him to leave and he did, but not before inquiring about how I was doing. That was an awkward call from my sister for sure.

I drove by the Velvet Bow shop last time I was in town and saw that it's now a massage studio. I was kind of sad to see the old place go.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Pain is just weakness leaving the body

I'm pretty bummed today.

I have this thing- this medical thing that's not letting me do whatever I want all the time. See because my bones break- for no apparent reason. One day, I'm fine. The next- I'm limping and wondering what the hell went wrong.

I get MRIs, X-Rays, Nuclear bone scans, bone density scans, and all kinds of lab tests. Same thing every time- I currently have a fractured toe (that I deserved- I jumped over a wall), a fractured hip, and just found out yesterday that my ankle is fractured too.

It was definitely sore, but I didn't realize it was broke. Dang, so just when I thought that I was getting all healed up from the hip fracture, this one hits me. I miss skipping and jumping on my trampoline (with panties, thanks.) and most of all, DANCING.

See- the rest I could live without. I wouldn't even particularly be upset about not being able to skip around if I could still dance. But no- my ankle/hip/toe will have none of that.

I keep thinking I'd be much better off if I could be bubble wrapped and rolled around... but that wouldn't help with the dancing.

Anyhow, since I'm feeling all down and mopey today, I've decided to drink a corona (and by "a", I mean "6") with a lemon and chill this evening, make some kick-ass, soon to be award-winning grilled cheese, and forget about my self-pity for a few hours.

Sound good?

Monday, April 13, 2009

Pantiless trampoline incident

I used to have a completely insane co-worker.

She is a total slut and a stoner and prays before every meal, wears a cross around her neck, and goes to church on Sundays and Wednesday nights. Seriously- she's not just a little bit of a slut either- she used to bang co-workers in little empty offices at work. Just before she walked out to her car to smoke a bowl on her lunch break.

Now, I'm not saying that being a slut or a stoner is a bad thing. Not at all. It's just an odd thing for such a religious person. Aren't Christians supposed to be more pure than the rest of us?

She went to lunch with my friend and I one day. She had just returned from an extended medical leave- turns out she broke her leg while on a trampoline.

She tells us her story over enchiladas and iced tea:

I had just come home from church on a Sunday and I had a friend over, so we wanted to go and jump on the trampoline in the back yard. I was wearing a skirt for church, so I tossed on some daisy dukes and went out there. I wasn't wearing panties with the skirt and didn't even think to put them on with the shorts.

**I interject- No, I'd never wear panties to church!** She doesn't really notice the sarcasm and continues...

So I'm showing off my old cheerleading moves for my friend and I jump like 5 feet in the air and do the splits and I landed before I was ready for it. And my leg just snapped.

My friend called the paramedics and all these firemen show up - and it turns out I "Know" one of them, you "know"? So they want to straighten my leg out and they're trying to mess with it and I remembered that I hadn't shaved recently!

So I've got all this bush hanging out of my daisy dukes and all I could do was cover it up with my hands and ask for a blanket before they could go on with their work.

I guess the moral of this story is that you should always be prepared. If you're going to be wearing short shorts and no panties, do some grooming beforehand. And if you're going to be breaking your legs on trampolines, get to know your local emergency responders in advance. They'll probably treat you extra special.