Thursday, September 29, 2011

Jenny the Hutt

I feel like Jabba the Hutt right now. Not physically of course, just in the hypothetical sense. I am in a "Jabba the Hutt" state.

Now that I've written that I have no idea what I meant or where I was going with it. But I have decided to leave it there. Let's analyze it for a second. Jabba doesn't seem like the worst guy out there. I mean, I don't know what other Hutts look like, so it's hard for me to say that Jabba is overly indulgent and that has led to his insane extraterrestrial obesity. Maybe he's a really nice Hutt, the kind of Hutt you would be privileged to be chained to with a gold bikini on. I don't know.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I think what I meant is, "I feel like a blob in my life right now."

Yeah... that must be it.


Moving on.

Look at this.

Really? How am I still unpacking things? This is ridiculous. I feel like I am in a constant state of settling. Settling into a new job, into my room, into my life, etc. I suppose the madness never stops. It keeps me on my toes, for sure.

My mom just left a couple of days ago after a very short visit. She brought up some shelves from Tucson because I was seriously lacking in that department. FINALLY somewhere to put my stuff. Becca and I had a menacing Berlin Wall of boxes that were lining our living room until I heroically braved them on Sunday. It was starting to get ridiculous. Things are looking semi-livable now, minus the two bikes in our living room. Apparently me locking them outside on our courtyard railing was an eyesore to the neighbors (aka my rude landlord who decided to grace us with his presence). Boo!

Apartment life is very fun despite our lack of storage space. Becca and I are constantly baking and cooking up a storm! Here's the pretty lady herself making homemade potato chips!

And here is Jimmy, awkwardly taking a nap with Frasier...

I have no idea how he fell asleep in that position but luckily I snapped a picture before he woke up. Frasier has been a traitor recently and has been sleeping with Jims on the couch almost every night. Rude.

My mom and I had a busy weekend in LA-- the highlight being my nephew, Mason's 4th birthday! It. Was. So. Fun. I am endlessly entertained by children. Especially when they are related to me, which is a completely new concept. I usually watch events from another state but now I have the opportunity to be at all sorts of kid things. Little people who are related to you are kind of the best thing ever.

Little Mason. Seriously.

Here's his sweet jumping castle! And him not very safely laying on the dismount pad...

Here's Makena waiting to take a whack at the pinata.

And now for the best pictures of all...

I couldn't decide which I liked better so you get both.

Sunday night confirmed that working at LUSH is the best thing that has ever happened to me. We had a party to celebrate how great our store has been doing. In fact, we have been making all of our daily goals and have been even getting little bonuses here and there! Awesome. But that's not the exciting part. I'll get to that. But first let me start by saying a little PSA for people who want to have parties.

People having parties: don't make your party a theme party and not mean it. You know why? Because people like me will show up expecting everyone to be dressed accordingly.

I was the only one to wear pajamas to the LUSH "Pajama Party".

Really? Come on guys. I don't want to be the only d-bag who dressed up. I came in matching pajamas with bunny slippers on. Mind you, our store is in a mall, this party wasn't at some private location. Luckily I brought some flipflops to bring my square status down a few notches.

Leave it to the new girl to take things literally. I'm sorry-- I was just following directions. I didn't realize it was a test to see who was cool! Then again what I lacked in social tact I made up for in comfort. So there. I do love my coworkers though. LUSH people are the best kind. We always have so much fun together!

And now for the sweet part... We get FREE STUFF. I was in shock. I walked out of that party armed with all sorts of NEW goodies! (And of course that would happen the day after I made a big purchase... nice). We have all sorts of Christmas and Halloween things coming up and it is SO exciting! I wish I could post a picture of all of my stuff... Alas, I cannot. It's still a big LUSH secret. But oohhhhh NELLY get excited. Guess what everyone's getting for Christmas?

In other news, I was cruising down Ventura Blvd yesterday and guess who was driving next to me in their little Jaguar?

I screamed like Lucille from Arrested Development whenever she sees Gene Parmesan.

It was very exciting.

Friday night I FINALLY got my haircut. I've been overdue for a while. I was starting to look like Ozzy Osbourne with my long flat hair just hanging on my head. Finding a hairdresser is a difficult thing. I have been going to the same girl in Tucson for a couple years now, and I was resistant to find another stylist. After checking out a few places and asking some friends, I soon realized that I could not get away with a normal haircut in LA for under $50.

Humph. Rachel and I tried twice to go to the Paul Mitchell school where students cut your hair for dirt cheap prices to no avail. Both times we went they were randomly "busy" or "closed". I took it as a sign and took my hair elsewhere. I found a little salon in the back corner of the Glendale Galleria... CARLTON ACADEMY.

No, it's not what you're thinking. They don't cut your hair like you live in the 90's in Bel Air with your kooky family and oddball ghetto cousin. Though I'm sure sweet dance moves would be welcome. Apparently Carlton is a pretty commonplace high end salon in California like Regis, Toni & Guy, Paul Mitchell, etc. News to me. I walked up, things looked semi-legit, (and let's face it, I was super desperate), and I waited for my hairdresser to come from the back.

She seemed pretty normal, and then she took me back to her little station. I walked past head after head after head... mannequin heads. Complete with FULL HEADS OF HUMAN HAIR AND FREAKY PAINTED ON FACES. "Where are the people?", I thought to myself, as I sat down in the chair and signed WAIVERS. Ffffffffffff. I was the only human in the salon who was getting their hair done.

Yup. Weird. It took a little bit longer than usual because she was taking her time and being as meticulous as possible, which I appreciated. Her teacher had to make all of the first cuts or "guides" and she did the rest. My hair actually turned out pretty awesome. And all for $30. Take that LA. I look fabulous and so do all of those mannequin heads and it cost me less than Tucson.

I'm not going to lie, this post is kind of all over the place. I get that. Sometimes I feel like I am overflowing with stories and ideas and then there are times like now when I feel rather uninteresting.

I'm sure that will turn around this weekend though! I have two very special visitors: my bestest Darwin friend, Bryan is coming up from Tucson! U of A is playing USC this weekend and he's making the trek out to watch the game. I miss him everyday and I am excited to see him and hug his little self. My second visitor is my handsome San Francisco friend Spencer who is also flying to LA to see the Cats! I looked into tickets for myself but after spending a buttload on the Sharks game, I'm a bit sports-event-ed out in the wallet department. But never fear, I shall find a bar and I shall keep my fingers crossed that we can pull out a win...? Whatever happens, I'm expecting a full array of shenanigans this weekend. Just what I like.

Here's to hoping your thoughts are a bit more consolidated than mine. It's probably because all of my thoughts go to consolidating other people's freaking debt. Meh. ......Anyone have a real job for me?

Love and kisses!

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Manly Bits

Like sands through the hourglass... so are the days of our lives.

Phew. How's everyone doing? I can hardly believe that it's already the tail end of September. How did that happen?

I've been a little under the weather recently. I'm thinking it has a lot to do with my not sleeping. Who's surprised. I worked 14 hours on Monday: 9 of them consolidating debt and the other 5 making people look and smell beautiful at LUSH. Look at me, helping people and brightening their lives right and left. A modern day Mother Teresa, really.

Once you're in the swing of things, work can get a little addicting. It's sick really. But I cannot tell you how excited I am to get two fat checks tomorrow. And when I say fat I really mean husky. Eh, okay, big boned. They have a fast metabolism, okay?!

I have had a lovely lady-like evening tonight: Happy Hour with Rachel, Yoga Rocks at Yoga Shelter (I almost passed out/vomited--- good class... note to self: don't do Happy Hour before yoga), a delightful candlelit bubble bath, "Love is in the Air" station on Pandora (completely commercial free and romantically delightful to boot), apple tea, and a manicure by yours truly. I have been feeling pretty manly the last couple days so I had to get back in touch with my feminine side.

Allow me to elaborate.

Friday night Jimmy, our friend Kate (also a Wildcat!), and her roommate and I all went to go see Drive with Ryan Gosling.


Yes, you're right. It was great. And yes, Ryan Gosling was quite dashing.

But no, you're wrong. It wasn't a "fast-and-impressive-car-driving" kind of a movie. It was a "Let's-savagely-kill-everyone-and-do-it-in-the-most-disturbing-way-possible" kind of a movie. I started to get kind of sick by the end of it all. Bleh. But the soundtrack was really good...? Don't get me wrong, it was a pretty fantastic movie. Just don't go expecting to see sweet driving and crazy stunts. That's what all eight of the The Fast and the Furious movies are for. Duh.

We went to the Arclight movie theatre on Sunset which was quite the experience. It's surrounded by cascading waterfalls when you walk in. Only in Hollywood. Here's the inside, which looks less impressive than it actually is, but still, you get the picture. Grand Central Station, anyone?

After the movie Jimmy and I were walking back to my car, discussing all of the brutal murders we had just fictionally witnessed, when we got to a four-way stop. We waited, looked both ways, then proceeded to cross the street as we saw the car came to a stop for us. Standard. Then as we crossed to the other side of the street, this crazy lady stuck her head out of the back window and yelled at the top of her lungs: "KIM KARDASHIAN BITCH!!"


I'm sorry I had to bring you into this, Bert.

I suppose there are worse things to be called. I could have been called a "ROSIE O'DONNELL HO" or the ever-insulting "HILLARY CLINTON C-WORD". Kim Kardashian? I'll take it. A'thank-you, ma'am. Have a good evening and I apologize for upsetting you with my sultry good looks and pulchritudinous posterior.

Clearly we're twins.

(This is where I would insert the Bert Stare if I hadn't already used it.)

After recovering from the semi-hurtful insult/compliment, Jimfi and I went to In-n-out by our apartment to scarf down some snickysnacks. Los Angeles nightlife will never cease to amuse me. We made friends with a group of drunk, promiscuously dressed seventeen year olds who had just got out of a Ke$ha concert. We were so happy they decided to talk to us. They were hilarious.

This is pretty much what they looked like but with a little more glitter. And maybe a little less creepy. Yeesh.

They thought that Jimmy and I were nineteen and almost fell off their chairs when we said we were 22 and 23. "Oh magahh you guys are SOOO OLLDDDD. Sorry we're so LOUD but we're so DRUNNNNKKK".

Okay, girls. First of all: who let you out of the house dressed like that? Your epidermis is showing. Second of all, don't you know you shouldn't have glitter so close to your eyes? You're just asking for an infection. And finally, who the heck let you go to a Ke$ha concert?

Come on moms. Step it up. Your daughters clearly need attention. Set some standards.

I'm not going to lie, they were certainly amusing and somewhat endearing. As we were leaving I made sure to remind them to respect themselves and "don't chase the boys, let the boys chase you" (something my mother would say to me every morning as I left the house... starting in second grade on...). They drunkenly slurred something incoherent. Sweet. This is why you put your daughters in girl scouts and don't let them shave their legs till they're in middle school. Just sayin'.

Tuesday night Rachel and I went to see WARRIOR! It was seriously fantastic. Rachel wasn't super wild about it but I actually loved it. It's about MMA (mixed martial arts) which is basically insane-monkey-no-rules-fighting. It's ridiculous. But it was a really well-done movie and I highly recommend it. That was part II of my manly experiences.

And part III? Going to the Sharks vs. Ducks hockey game in Anaheim last night!

I have always loved going to hockey games. Now that I can't go to the U of A Ice Cats games, I was in the market for a pro hockey team. Unfortunately that now means that I no longer get to pay $8 for tickets or be able to move around and sit wherever I darn well please whilst being surrounded by redneck Tucsonans. Such is life. Rachel is from the Bay Area and is therefore a HUGE San Jose Sharks fan. I simply mentioned a couple months ago that I needed a hockey team and the rest is history.

Going to a hockey game with Rachel is kind of like going to a public execution with a serial killer. She gets a little into it. Which is sweet, really. People from all directions were very confused how this preciously freckled red head girl could get so heated and nasty about hockey. But she does. She yells at all of the players and calls them by their first names, or as Rachel says, their "Christian names". It's ridiculous. People kept asking her for backstories about the players and about trades, etc. She knows her Sharks, let me tell you.

I can't imagine a better night to officially begin my fandom.

After the Sharks dutifully beat the Ducks 6-1, USC's hockey team played UCLA. It was sad. The college band playing, all of the students bundled up in their school colors, chanting their fight song. I got a little sentimental. I'm not a college kid anymore. I'm an adult. An adult with responsibilities and goals in life. Humph. I miss being a carefree Wildcat. It was weird realizing that I only get to look back on my college years now. They still seem so sweetly recent. Boo. I need more Zona gear.

I've got a busy weekend ahead of me. My mum is coming to visit! A girl needs her mom every now and then, or else I would be wearing holey booty shorts and my hair would be all ratty. Oh! And my nephew Mason's 4th birthday party is on Saturday! I am super excited to see the little stinker. Kids birthday parties are kind of the best. There's usually some pretty delicious finger food and someone always cries. Dinner and a show.

I should probably get to sleep. I have to be at work at 7 am, everyday. I KNOW.

Ah well. This is the time for me to be doing everything in life in a comedically crappy way, right? I've got the right mindset though. Bring it on, humorously fickle life. BRING IT.


Saturday, September 17, 2011


This is what my Friday nights have resorted to. Writing to the orbs, playing love songs on my guitar with a purring cat on my lap, drinking a glass of Moscato, listening to Frank Sinatra on pandora, and making eight servings of pasta because I am apparently incapable of eyeballing it and cooking for one.

I had a realization yesterday.

I'm an adult. I can do whatever. I. want. to. do.

Phew. What a freeing thought. I've got a degree and I have moved myself to a big fancy city! And now?

I'm debating going to grad school. Hmph. I've been quickly filling up a PRO/CON list.

Here are some of my concerns in the most raw dramatic form:

1) I've only been out of college for what, three months and I'm already ready to go back? Sounds like someone's been in school since they were five years old and now doesn't know what to do with her spare time. I miss being told what to do and when to do it. Finding opportunities and applying myself is a) exhausting and b) too abstract.

2) I must be looking for an excuse to move. I like LA. I just don't know if it's my place. Just like when I was living in England--- I loved it-- but when I got to Germany... there was an audible click in my universe. Everything made sense to me there. It felt like home.

I've never had that instantaneous click with LA. I've developed it, surely, and I'm sure I could get even more comfortable. But that's like an arranged marriage: start as friends and learn to love each other. No thanks, not for me. I refuse to settle. I want a city to sweep me off my feet. As well as men but that's another story. And I don't want LA to expel me like it has other friends. I want to leave on good terms.

3) If I want to be a writer-- then all I need to do is write. Right?

4) This would be ALL me. So here's to hoping that silly Magna Cum Laude title can land me some scholarships. But this of course is coming from the girl who didn't even know what that meant on graduation day, with the name card in my hand.

I've been chatting with several people to collect opinions. First of all I talked with my mother, whose main concern was DON'T GO INTO DEBT followed by DON'T GO INTO DEBT. Which is of course the most logical motherly advice but is still no fun. Then I talked with one of my best friends and mentors, Christin, yesterday afternoon. I met Christin my sophomore year at U of A. She taught my Rituals and Performance class and my life has never been the same. We became good friends after she asked me to co-write an original play based on the Federal Theatre Project that was produced last fall followed by developing solo performances in the spring.

Christin is one of my heroes. Strong, independent, beautiful, sassy. Everything I aspire to be. And she is EDUCATED. She of course supports me in everything that I do, grad school or no grad school. And I knew how our conversation would go. It was just nice to hear her voice. She listened dutifully as I explained my aspirations and concerns, then said, "Jenny. It sounds like you've already made your decision".

And she's probably right. I have. I want to go to grad school. I just want to make sure it's for the right reasons and that I REALLY know what I'm getting myself into.

I also spoke with two other women I admire: Gretchen and another mentor from U of A, Megan. Gretchen treated me to a delicious groupon dinner at the Fat Dog on Fairfax last night. She game me advice on every subject in life and I soaked it all in like the little impressionable sponge that I am. She also encouraged me to follow my bliss and to not follow society's or other people's expectations of me. Here, here.

Megan, a brilliant playwright from Iowa, always challenges me when I ask her opinion. She led a writing workshop I did last year to prepare for the play we were writing. She and I had a little phone conference this morning, bright and early. It's refreshing to speak with Megan because she has no bias and is completely objective when it comes to my life. There is no right answer with her. Which I completely respect and love. But the indecisive piece that I am desperately wants someone to tell me what to do. She reminded me that I am still very young and that I should go around and collect experiences and then look into it later. She congratulated me on my three odd jobs and said, "Welp. There's your material. This is the best time of your life! You're a floundering, attractive woman in your early twenties stuck in a super crappy situation! That's comedy. Why do you think Friends was so successful? Rachel was a coffee shop girl for crying out loud."

She's right. This all must be very entertaining or else no one would be reading my blog. But you can't blame me for trying to get myself out of it. Floundering wasn't exactly part of my life plan. I'll certainly embrace it for a certain amount of time while it's still hip and kitschy, but at some point I've gotta pick myself out of it.

I could hang around LA for a couple of years-- working odd jobs and scouring Craigslist for opportunities. But I'm all about seizing the day! My cup floweth over with gumption and ambition! I want to wander blindly into the future and make some decisions already!

There is no right answer. I get that. Do I need grad school? No. But what do I actually need in life? I could go wander through the mountains of Burma and shave my head. We don't need anything. But going to grad school would open a lot of doors for me and completely change my life course-- I suppose every decision does-- but this might lead me where I want to be.

If I had majored in Creative Writing in college, I don't think I would necessarily need to go to grad school. I researched a couple of programs at work today (I'm really good at multitasking... something that comes in handy when you work nine hours straight at a debt consolidation company everyday with no breaks). I don't know the first thing when it comes to writing. I probably have some amount of raw talent, but really, I don't know how to turn it into something substantial. Writing is a lot more left-brained than we think it is. It needs structure and the right tools to make it worthwhile. So grad school would definitely give me that. The courses are pretty incredible and just reading about them made me do a little dance in my rolly chair.

Being in a school setting might also give me opportunities to get noticed and put me in with the right writing crowd. ...If there is a crowd. Or if they're all like me--- sitting at home on a Friday night. Writing. How romantic.

Benjamin Franklin once said, "Genius without education is like silver in the mine." A wise man, ol' Ben. It's there. I've got the right equipment. I just need to read the manual. Or pay $20,000 a year to access it. No big.

So where have I been looking?

I'm not going to lie. San Francisco. I love that city. I always have. I wanted to go there for undergrad but they didn't have the program I wanted. Out of all of the grad programs I researched today their's is closest to what I want to do. I also am looking at a couple schools in New York, too. Just for funsies. But I can really see myself living in San Fran, for sure. Being there this past weekend rekindled all of my childhood fondness that was laying dormant. I also like USF's tagline: "Educating Minds and Hearts to Change the World".

That's kind of amazing. Educate my mind, USF! And throw some financial aid my way, too, while you're at it! I want to change the world! Let me at it!

I'm only 22 years old and I have serious ants in my pants. I want to get stuff rolling already. But as Frank just said on my pandora, "Nice'n'easy does it, every time". Everything will happen in due time. I just love life and I want it to all start coming together already. But it is and I get that. Ezra told me to just let everything be what it is, whatever it is, and to ride the wave as it's happening. And I love him for that. General, ambiguously open-ended advice is the best.

I debated posting all of this. You'd be surprised how much of what I write doesn't make it on here. I'm sure what I usually take out is MUCH more interesting. Let's face it, it's all the juicy stuff, but there you have it. Another thing I'm sure I'll learn about writing: if you don't want others to read it it's probably what they want to read. Eh.

We'll see. Midnight kisses, all.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

flowers in your hair

There are some days that make you feel like you are in the right place, at the right time, with the right people. Recent events have allowed me to confidently say that I am right where I need to be. For now at least. So I would like to extend a serious thank you to LA. Fo realz. You've been working some serious magic recently and I am sorry I ever doubted you.

What a sweet little love note to LA. But really.

Let's get real, I just had the best weekend ever! But really, who's surprised? If my former posts weren't evidence enough, I was super pumped to make a little escape from LA and soak up my favorite city in the US-- San Francisco.

Jimmy and I packed ourselves up and set out Friday morning, homemade chocolate chip cookies in tow. Becca dropped us off at the airport and we quickly made friends with people around us-- Albert Brook's sassy knitting mother-in-law for one. We enjoyed some coffee and chatted as we waited for our plane. Here's us about to board. Look how cute we are.

A short hour and twenty minutes later and we had landed. We hopped on BART and motored over to Embarcadero. Jimmy taught me this San Fran finger sign so I wouldn't be too much of a square.

Unfortunately I only operate in square mode. But I've been told that's what gives me gumption.

We met Spencer right on Market Street, scruffy face and all. We walked to his cozy little apartment to drop off our luggage. Spencer lives right off of Haight and Ashbury-- the epicenter of interesting characters/hippies/straight up crazy hobos, or as Spencer calls them "Haightsters" (pronounced hate-sters and to be said slowly in his deep scratchy voice). We stopped by the laundromat to start a load of laundry for Spencer, grabbed a burrito for Jimmy and horchata for me, and made a couple stops at some very interesting stores. This one in particular. It's called "Loved to Death" and it apparently specializes in anything dead and creepy. If you think taxidermy is weird, you ain't seen nothing yet.

Yes. That is a squirrel dressed up in 19th century clothing in a shadow box. My mouth was agape the entire time I was in the store. There were albino raccoons, necklaces that contained little dead animals... it. was. strange. A good welcome to Haight. After testing our shock reactions, Spencer then decided to test our agility and endurance by taking us on a steep hike up to Buena Vista Park.

On the way we stopped at a playground to swing and spin around on the little merry-go-round. Then we got to the very top of the park. The fog was just rolling in and starting to cover the little city. We laid in the grass and watched dogs running around chasing after balls that their sassy gay owners threw for them. It was kind of like heaven.

We walked back to pick up Spencer's laundry and stumbled into a shoe store. Jimmy came very close to purchasing a pair of light blue shoes that were a) women's and b) referred to by Spencer as 'fairy' shoes but were c) only ten dollars. He didn't end up getting them, but Spencer did grab some pretty snazzy black Nike's that he proudly sported the rest of the weekend. After donning his new pumped up kicks we met up with Spencer's roommate Tim and his girlfriend Kelly for dinner at a Puerto Rican restaurant called Parada 22.

After stuffing ourselves full of delicious things (including my first fried plantains...) we headed to Whole Foods where I found this little beauty:

Yup, 1 1/3 bottles of wine-- delicious wine-- for $6.99. Done. We all had a couple drinks then headed to their friend Ned's house for a little high school friend reunion... plus Jenny. I felt a little bad crashing the party, but everyone was so sweet and welcoming. I can't imagine a better group of people. Ned ordered a limo (?!) for us and we all piled in to head to a local Irish bar. We danced around until we were exhausted. Last time I was in San Fran I think I was 16, so this was my first time experiencing the city as an adult. I loved it.

We woke up late the next morning and headed to get some breakfast at Pork Store Cafe. The food was delicious and certainly filled us up-- it was our one meal of the day! Jimmy had a very cute dish that was awkwardly named "Two Eggs in a Tasty Nest". Awkward only because I feel like they could have come up with something shorter and more clever than that, but then again, I don't have any hilarious ideas, so who do I think I am? After breakfast we waddled over to Goodwill to get some thrift store finds for what would be one of the most interesting experiences of my seasoned 22-year-old life.

Dance Party is a public access television show on KOFY TV in San Francisco. It's basically just people dancing around like they're insane for a half an hour with a host and DJ that look like they have been artificially assembled by aliens to somewhat resemble humans. Spencer stumbled upon the show a month or so ago and made it a personal goal of his to make an appearance. Luckily for Jimmy and I they were filming while we were there. We went to the 80s themed Dance Party, though you probably can't tell from our outfits...

...looks like Beetlejuice took up jogging with a dirty pirate and a smurf manchild.

Tottalllly 80s.

We danced around to fun music and enjoyed all of the crazy characters that showed up in ridiculous costumes. It was the weirdest mix of people ever-- old, young, short, tall, ugly, handicapped, loaded. La crème de la crème of San Francisco. It's a good thing we weren't under any influence or I may have not believed it was all real. We were incredibly sweaty by the end of it. We mustered up the strength to hail a cab then headed home for a much needed nap.

Jimmy headed off to Slim's, a swanky little bar where his brother Carlo was performing with his band, Dylan Cannon and the Woundlickers (sweet name, right?) Spencer and I left a little later because Jimmy had to be there early to take pictures. Well, we got a little bit lost off one of the bus stops and ended up getting there in time... to hear the last half of their last song. But of course we got there in enough time to pay the $15 cover charge. Awesome. We had some beers, met all of Jimmy's AMAZING family, and had a nice chat about life in general. Afterwards we converted Spencer into a crepe lover at the little cart vendor across the street. Nutella and bananas... mmm...

Jimmy stayed out with his family and Spencer and I headed home to watch some much needed Curb Your Enthusiam. It's been too long. That show.

And then came Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. Spencer and I got up early and walked to "Happy Donuts" to redundantly get some doughnuts. I of course appropriately embarrassed myself by saying, "What kind of doughnut is that? The one covered with crumbs?"

Small bald foreign man: "Ehhh... A crumb doughnut."


Spencer got a maple doughnut (which was, let's face it, a rather safe choice) and we headed back to his apartment to begin the neverending day of football watching.

I'm not going to lie... I secretly loved it. Which I realize isn't the cool girl thing to do-- but again, I work in square gumption mode. We watched NFL RedZone, which only shows the exciting integral plays of every NFL game going on at that particular time--- non-stop and uninterrupted. It was insanely overstimulating. The boys have an absolutely monstrous television, and my brain was completely consumed with football. Spencer got a huge bbq chicken pizza and we slowly made our way through it as the day went on. By 4 pm, the games were done and we desperately needed some fresh air and exercise.

We packed up a frisbee and a couple of beers and headed to Golden Gate Park. If Buena Vista Park is heaven then Golden Gate Park must be the upper echelon. Truly.

We wandered for hours. We walked by the Japanese Tea Gardens, bison grazing in the field, split a deliciously messy ice cream cone, and I made myself a little daisy chain to wear around my head, as pictured here by this majestic waterfall.


Then we stumbled upon this sweet little windmill.

We finally found our way down to the beach, just as the sun was setting and the full moon was rising. We bravely whipped off our shoes to feel the cold waves.

...Did I mention heaven?

We took the bus back to the apartment to give our tired legs a break. Spencer and I wandered back down Haight in search of some free jazz music to no avail. Darn Sunday nights. We ended up stopping into Blue Front Cafe to split a gyro platter for dinner. We ended the night with Jimmy watching more Curb and Dexter. We were all exhausted. A very well-played weekend.

Jimmy and I reluctantly left the next morning bright and early. We all said our tired goodbyes on the BART.

Then of course Jimmy and I HARDLY made our flight thanks to SFO's ridiculously long line for Southwest.

It's always been sad to leave San Francisco but this trip I may have been a tad bit sadder.

Jimmy and I scurried home and picked up Becca to get some birthday pizza lunch. Both of my roomies have the same birthday! ...those silly Virgos. Get a shot of those little scamps, will you? Aren't they lovable? (I'll give you a high five if you get that reference). I treated them to some delicious pizza at Caioti Pizza Cafe in Studio City. Mmmm.

I really like them.

The rest of the day Jims and I laid pretty low. I skyped with Jamie for a couple hours before meeting up with a beautiful blend of Bravo and Bang friends at the Fox and Hounds to celebrate birthdays and a promotion for Mariko! Woo! It's only a block away from our apartment. It may or may not be our new stomping grounds.

A bittersweet ending to a very sweet weekend. Thanks to everyone who makes me feel like I am right where I need to be.

The rhythm of the weekend, with its birth, its planned gaieties, and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it. -F. Scott Fitzgerald

Kisses, all.