The Bachelorette

This past weekend, I made a whirlwind trip to San Francisco for less than 48 hours for a combination bridal shower/bachelorette party to celebrate one of my high school friends. I went back in the archives to see if I discussed her engagement when it happened last summer, but I only mentioned it briefly in the context of a whine about being single, so here we go: she's marrying an Aussie she met on New Year's Eve in Budapest---very romantic! He was living in London, she was living in Spain, they fell in love over Skype and while traveling together to many exotic places. They've been living together in London for the last few years, and they're just adorable. I love her and am so happy for them.

I was stressin' about the weekend, as you know, but of course I ended up having a fabulous time, as I knew I would. I'm so glad I got to celebrate with her, as I can't make the wedding. SINCE IT'S IN FIJI. You think I couldn't really afford a weekend in SF? Try a trip to FIJI.

The weekend began, well, not as planned. I set my alarm early, giving myself plenty of time to shower, and finish gathering my shit, and get to the Buff's so we could carpool to SB, meet up with the rest of the crew, and head to SF. Except...it didn't go off. Because I set my weekday alarm. I happened to wake up exactly at 6:50am, which was precisely the time I needed to leave to get to her house by 7:15. I literally knocked on her door exactly on time. No shower for me.

We got to SB early, met up with the girls, and crammed ourselves and our stuff into one of the husbands' bigass SUVs. Thank god for married folk and sharing! We had an awesome time road trippin' up the coast, gossiping and laughing and singing along to the weekend's theme song. We stopped at Denny's for a wholly unhealthy feast of pancake bites and breakfast burritos and milkshakes, then immediately all fell into food comas once back in the car---except, of course, the driver. Before I knew it, we got to our classy hotel in San Francisco (after we looped around the block once when we missed the entrance, blasting Miley and Kanye and dancing our asses off for the amusement of strangers on the sidewalk) and the staff treated us ever so nicely. Like we were adults or something. Seriously, highly recommend the Stanford Court, they practically encouraged us to party.

We freshened and prettified, and the bride arrived, and off we went to the bridal shower. It was held at a beautiful, amazingly decorated apartment on the water, right near...one of the various piers, 30something, with the following, unedited view from the roof:

The bridal shower was so sweet and wonderful, with delicious food and lovely conversation and fun games and copious wine and it was all very, very classy...just like me.

After all the older and younger and more conservative of the guests went home or back to their hotels, those of us with naughtiness in our veins changed our attitudes and our clothes and got ready to go out on the town. There were shots. There was face paint. And we were ready. 

Of course, the bachelorette was a vision in white as is customary, from her dress, to her veil, to her sparkly white wig, and we her loyal maids (not all official bridesmaids, but maids for the night in spirit) were bewigged in neon bobs.

Like SO:

And me?

I LOVED HAVING PINK HAIR. I was so sassy. I got to be someone else. It. Was. Fabulous. I never wanted to take it off. Now I know why Katy Perry dyes her hair so much.

We went out and danced and made friends and drank and squealed and were generally obnoxious. It was a grand ole time. I don't even know what we did half the time, but it was splendid. 

At the very end of the night, as we waited for cabs, I was standing off by myself on the side of the street. An extremely drunk British guy came up to me and said, with what seemed like complete sincerity, "Is that your real hair?"

"Do you think this is my real hair?" I replied with equal sincerity. 

"...no?"

"Good job!" It was like I was talking to a puppy. A drunk puppy. 

"What color is your hair?"

"What color do you think my hair is?"

"...brown?" His hopeful guesses were pulled out of his drunken brain verrrry carefully.

"GOOD JOB!"

This went on for a while. I could not stop my playful bitchiness, until my friends found a cab and I ran off with a screamed, "Bye, I love you!"

The cab took us past Taylor Street, which of course made my narcissism very excited.

Once back in the hotel room, we ordered a 3AM pizza, feasted on Doritos, and then passed out happily.

Of course...the next morning, not so happy. But that doesn't need to be recapped. Eventually we all made it home safe and sound, including the bride, with our memories to comfort us when...other things were not so comfortable.

I hope my friend greatly enjoyed her American bachelorette. She also had a British hen party, and will have another in Sydney. Such the melting pot wedding, this is.

So...who wants to buy me a ticket to Fiji?

Tacos and Talks

Y'all, I made a friend!

Last night I had plans to have a sleepover with one of the girls from my yoga training. The original agenda was to study some sequencing and veg at my place, but we were in the mood to go out so we hit up the Cabo Cantina for Taco Tuesday, and it turned out to be a very interesting night.

We got to the bar and it was crowded due to their 2 for 1 happy hour, and we decided to hit the bathroom before searching for a table. It was occupied, so we waited, and then surprisingly a dude emerged from the ladies'. We had a somewhat hilarious interaction with him, he held the door for us, then we went on our merry way.

When we emerged and reentered the bar, we ran smack dab into him and his friends, and ended up spending the whole night with them. We had so much fun! They were half drunken douchebags, half totally nice guys, and thoroughly entertaining, and it was just awesome to have a night out socializing with some new people. Mostly, though, it was just so awesome to spend time with my new yoga friend, who I shall nickname Sunshine, and bond with her over the tons of stuff we have in common.

We got tipsy on margaritas, stumbled home from the bar arm in arm, cuddled with Tree and gossiped in bed, then passed out happily.

It was a fantastic night.

I made a FRIEND!

Tonight

I have plans today y'all. Plans that guarantee me getting hot and sweaty!

I'm meeting one of the girls from TT for a class after work, then we're going to study a bit together and I'm going to see if I have the energy for a second class.

WOO.

Socialization + Yoga?

I might actually be holding on to last night's feeling...

Yogaful Weekend

I had the best weekend ever.

The best.

It was full of yoga and joy and new friends and fun, and I can't remember the last time I had a weekend that was so full of just...fun.

Yesterday I worked a morning cleaning shift at the studio, took a class (yay!), then had training, then went out for drinks and dinner with some of the girls from the program. I know, right? I was social. Everyone was so nice and hilarious and we all had a blast. I think...I might be making friends? I know, I know, let's not get too ahead of ourselves here, but they all live in the area, and we're bonding over our love of yoga. And margaritas. It was awesome.

Today was more training, which ended early because there was a yoga festival in Santa Monica that our instructor said we could attend if we so chose to. Called Wanderlust: Yoga In The City, it featured, well, yoga. On the pier, in the city.

And free snacks.

It was magical. Just being in a huge crowd of like-minded people, with the sun streaming down on us, the ocean breeze on our skin. Laughing. Bending.

Awesome.

Then after the yoga, MC Yogi put on a mini concert for us, and I danced my little ass off, and oh my god.

I'm just so happy.

Best day, best weekend.

Sunshine Serenity

The Banana Debate

As I've mentioned, through the Weight Watchers message boards I've managed to find myself with my own little support group, despite the fact that I don't go to traditional meetings. We're spread far and wide across the continental United States, and one of us is even in Australia. It's awesome to have a group of like-minded ladies to chat with about food and fat and fitness, and they definitely keep me on track. These are the girls I went to Vegas with, and the girls who keep me occupied while I should be working, and we've become real friends, not just Internet friends.

What's awesome is they're all almost as ridiculous as I am, or in some cases, moreso (you know who you are). They get my sense of humor, and we can get down and dirty with our jokes without fear of anyone taking offense.

And we get into the weirdest conversations.

Case in point: for the last few days, we have been having a group text debate about the proper way to peel a banana.

One one side, we have the traditionalists, of which I myself am a member. You peel a banana like a NORMAL PERSON. Stem at the top as a lever.

Then on the other side, the goddamn banana molesters who violate their bananas by peeling from the bottoms, "like the monkeys do!"

The debate culminated in this video of a flaccid banana, at which I cracked up at my desk for at least fifteen seconds.

I love my fake Internet friends.

Cinco de Buffo

After we got our tattoos yesterday, it was time to celebrate the Birth of the Buff! We got back to their awesome house in the Valley to find The Husband setting up to throw her what turned out to be the best party ever, full of margaritas and snacks and puppies and people who love her, so basically, what more could you want?

We dined on a light salad, and a less light mini margarita, which packed enough of a punch that I passed out for an epic nap while spooning Jojo.

Bitty bottles! ALWAYS WITH THE
WRINKLE FACE.

After we napped, I ate another salad, because apparently that's all I do, then we started drinking more margaritas, and the partying began!

It was a fantastically fun evening, and a much necessary letting down of the hair, literally and metaphorically. I should straighten my hair more, I like flipping it about. It's always amazing to spend time with my ladies, and my Spanish girl was there too with her Puerto Rican lovah. Also, I talked to a boy I met last December at a party, and he remains cute and I am intrigued. And I got to see a lot of people I haven't seen since their wedding, which was really fun, and a lot of the girls I bonded with at Buff's bachelorette were there, which was so great. Also, met some of her coworkers, and it's important to meet new people! One of the girls was super sweet, and works in the area I live/work in, so that's nifty.

The pups also had a grand time, Jojo and Gracie performed quite well for the guests and played and played and played until they passed out. Frankie did very well accepting attention, even though she gets a little scared in large crowds. Of course, immediately upon entering their home she found a toy she liked, and spent most (all) of the evening guarding it from every other creature. Silly.

So all in all, I say: SUCCESS. 

Pictures.

I ended up with ALL THE PUPPIES. Oh yeah, and Drunk Me
decided Fanta sounded like a GREAT IDEA.

NO ONE MUST HAVE THE TOY.

The Husband asked if I wanted him to
take a picture, and I said I preferred
narcissistic self shots. In which I make
dumb faces.

King Tiburon sleeps.

Doodle cannot part with the toy to join the others.

As always, The Married Couple were excellent hosts. I want their house and their pets and their awesomeness.


Basically, I want to be them when I grow up. Is that okay?

Dinner Party For Four

Last night, I had a friend and her boyfriend (who I'd say I could now call a friend on his own) over for a home-cooked meal and some catching up.

But that was really just a pretense. 

First things first. Nicknames. 

This friend was my Facebook wife for five years, so I could call her The Wife, but that seems so unoriginal, and untrue, since she dumped me last summer for this boyfriend of hers. TEARS. Ex-Wife? She did live abroad in Spain for three years, so that's a wealth of inspiration there...Besos. Yes, I shall call her Besos.

As for the boyfriend, he is the one who made us the delicious and authentic Puerto Rican sangria, so the Puerto Rican seems reasonable. PR.

So anyway, I invited Besos and the PR over for dinner, but really, Bentley invited them over. He put on his bow-tie and everything. See, he is quite sick of this whole "celibacy" thing I'm doing and goddamnit HE WANTED A MAN TO SNUGGLE.

And snuggle he did.

Plus, Besos was always his most favorite of my friends in high school in college, in fact there was one inebriated night during which she claims they "exchanged souls", so overall, Tree had just about the best night of his life.

I made my standard guest fare, parmesan crusted chicken with balsamic roasted veggie and feta salad with another batch of the brie and apple crescent rolls. I tried a few with poppyseeds, which were pretty delicious too! I also substituted agave, as my Besos is not a fan of honey. Still tasty but I prefer the honey.

Food, wine, friends, so much cat hair everywhere it was ridiculous---definitely a successful evening.

A love letter to a new friend.

Dear Boobalicious (you know who you are),

Oh, you.

I'm ever so glad we "met".

And then met.

I've made a lot of Internet friends over the course of my dorkdom, and plenty of them continue to be important parts of my life, some for the last decade. Anyone who doubts how valuable it can be to make connections over the world wide webz is a willful idiot stuck in the Dark Ages. But you, my dearest dear, are special.

Doesn't it just seem like we're on the same wave length, you and I? In our depraved delight, intelligent indifference, our rambunctious revelry, dedicated debauchery, irreverent insanity, our rampant ridiculousness?

We're the best.

Sometimes you make friends that are great for you because you're so different, and you can learn so much from them. Sometimes you make friends that are so similar to you, and you get along because of those similar qualities.

And sometimes you meet a Twin who is almost always on your same page that you know you can be totally honest with, and you just want to smother them with smooches.

I adore you, and our hilarious IM conversations, and when we toast our days together, our dirty texting and the fact that when we send each other pictures they are either of our cats or our boobs 99% of the time, and our serious conversations where we give each other such great support and advice.

You rock.

And I love you.

I can't wait to see you soon.

Love and kisses and motorboats,

Me

How To Be A Klepto

Saturday night before hitting the bars (and getting in a bitch fight), my Biff and I went to dinner at my friend's parents' house with her boyfriend and mommy and daddy to celebrate her birthday. We had a fabulous time chatting and drinking authentic Puerto Rican sangria made by the Puerto Rican boyfriend, and after a few glasses I of course had to use the restroom. There, Drunk Me discovered and coveted a pair of colorful retro aviators. I tried them on and admired myself.

When I emerged, I asked if they were my friend's younger brother's, who lives at the house with his parents. (A few years ago, he was my roommate in LA, but that's a story for another time.) He was lurking about, had eaten dinner with us but was mostly hiding in his room. The answer was yes, so next time I saw him I caught his attention.

"Hey. You know your sunglasses in the bathroom?"

"Yeah?"

"They look really good on me."

(pause for laughter)

(longer pause)

"You can have them if you want."

That was totally not the intent of my comment, but I guess my subconscious manipulations were effective.

Hey, free sunglasses!

Buddy Yoga

I love having a partner in crime to go to yoga with, so any time one of my friends wants to try my studio I get so excited! (Plus, the fact that I get $5 added to my account whenever I bring someone to sign up for a free week doesn't hurt.) My college roomie is doing an internship near the studio and she wanted to try it out this past week, so she signed up last Tuesday and we practiced together that day, and tonight too.

Last week's class was HOT HOT HOT, I told her it was definitely one of the warmest I've had in awhile, where you can actually feel the air crawling over your skin. The flow got pretty complicated, like, turning from front to back to front again, which started to stress me out, so I'm sure it was even more confusing for a new person! She said she really liked the instructor though, one of the more hippie-ommm ones at the studio. And the music was awesome.

Tonight we went to one of the other more spiritually-focused teachers, and had a much better practice, in my opinion. I was really focused the whole class, and while I didn't feel that strong and took quite a few breaks, I left feeling energized and yet calm.

Also, you know what's more fun with a bud? Eating sushi. The Buff left her purse in Santa Barbara at her parents' house, so I picked it up for her this morning and as a thank you she bought me sushi tonight after class. It tasted better with a friend.

Everything's Coming Up Sunflowers

Congratulations to my beautiful, brilliant, inspiring, incredible, fantastic, fierce, fabulous, favorite Biff.

She was accepted into a grad program she has been working towards for the last year.

Of course, I never had any doubt she would be.

My mama and I went to the florist this afternoon and picked out a bouquet of her favorite sunny sunflowers, which I took over to her place this evening when she got off work for our usual ritual of chatting and lounging.

I AM PROUD LIKE A MAMA BIRD OF HER BABY BIRD FLYING OUT OF THE NEST OR SOMETHING VERY POETIC LIKE THAT.

CONGRATULATIONS!

It's elephant love.

My darling Buff gave me a pair of incredibly adorable earrings for my birthday, so bright and funky, and this super entertaining kid's card. I cannot stop messing with it.

And my Biff gave me a present too! This perfect necklace: an elephante! I am so in love with it.

I will wear it always. SPARKLY HAPPY ELEPHANT.

Vegas: The Recap

I am home.

I am practically almost human again, maybe, if you ignore my smoker voice and my inability to get out of bed on time.

I am so, so happy.

One million and a half thank yous to my Biff and the Married Lady (who could probably use a better identifier, Buff? Let's go with Buff, since she's a marathoner and all) for a seriously amazing birthday weekend. They were oh so sweet to me and we just had THE BEST TIME EVER. I love them so much.

I'll start from the beginning.

The road trip there was a grand time, of course. AND BEAUTIFUL. I couldn't get over it. Big storms came to Southern California and Nevada this weekend, and Thursday night a clap of thunder exploded so loudly directly above my apartment that both Biff and I woke up. The skies were gorgeous the entire drive, and all the mountains were capped with snow.

Oh yeah, and it was fucking freezing. My car said so, with a snowflake. And you know...SNOW ON THE GROUND.

We stopped for lunch at the In and Out in Barstow, the land of the magical two women's restrooms. Cheeseburger, protein style, animal style. OMNOMNOM.

We made great time on the drive and got checked into the hotel just a little bit before Buff arrived from the airport. We were at the Flamingo, 'cause it's cheap and pink. And I do love pink. We ended up with a view of the Strip, which was awesome!

Then we dumped all our clothes on the bed and played dress up like the five year olds we are at heart. Vegas isn't Vegas if you don't end up wearing something of someone else's.

We decided to leave the comfort of our tacky amazing hotel room with its hot pink dead muppet blankets and go hunt down food. Lo and behold, there was a pizza place right by the elevator, and our journey did not take very long. We were back on our beds eating delicious pizza and drinking delicious mixed drinks provided by Buff's homeowner bar of booze within minutes. FYI: Vanilla vodka and Hoegaarden? Tasty.

Then we got pretty.

The Biff and I played with hair chalk, and I made a giant fucking mess and had a bit of a meltdown (maybe my drugs are out of balance), but went and mediated in a corner and was fine again. But yeah, hair chalk? More trouble than it's worth. Or maybe the set I bought on Dealfind is cheap. Or maybe I was way too enthusiastic.

But you have to wear gloves while you do it, and they were BLUE.

TWO BY TWO, HANDS OF BLUE.

If you get this reference,
two points to you.

So yeah, I had pink hair for a night! And check out the beautiful earrings my Buff blonde beauty gave me for my birthday! Exactly my style, and PINK!

Our first night out was so much fun! We went to Tryst at the Wynn, which is one of our usual haunts, 'cause we know a promoter and it's usually a good time. Free drink tickets, no line, no cover... Per usual, we hooked up with a bachelor party with bottle service, and we finally realized we should probably stop trying to figure out who the bachelor is, and asking him about his wedding: they don't like it. Unlike women, who display their bridehood with tiaras and sashes or, in one lady's case, a FULL ON BRIDAL GOWN, men want to pretend they are not getting married. The hot blonde bachelor said to my Biff, "If you know I'm the bachelor, why are you talking to me?" Like she was a devil temptress sent to harass. Hilarious.

In the morning, the Buff went for a run, 'cause she'd a goddamn lunatic. I lounged in bed but had trouble sleeping, 'cause I'm old now and the second the alcohol leaves my system, I'm up. 

We lounged in bed for awhile, guzzled Gatorade, gossiped, and groused. 

Then we went to the buffet. And it was delicious.

There were mini pot pies.

Then back to bed with our lazy butts. Lounging. At one point the married one was texting her husband and he asked what we'd done that day. 

"Went to the buffet."

"And...?"

"...And?"

After a day of napping and chatting, we did take one field trip out of the hotel and went across the street to the mall at Caesar's to look for a) double stick tape b) lip gloss and c) bra, one item for each of us. It was a long and treacherous journey but we made it. By the end the sun was down and people were emerging in suits and glitter, and we were still in our lazy finest, and it was shameful. It's hilarious the difference in the effort we put forth between, oh, four PM and ten PM. From no makeup and sweats to layers of spackle and spray. 

When we re-emerged again a few hours later, we earned a round of applause as we walked back through the casino, so I guess we improved. 

We started at Tryst again, 'cause why not? More drink tickets! I went to the bathroom, and while I was gone we were apparently pimped out by a bouncer to yet another bachelor party. Canadians, this time. They were all total sweethearts and we had a blast dancing with them, then decided to head over to another club in the same hotel, Surrender.

I imagine Surrender is a lot more fun in the summer when it's warmer as it is all outside, but it was really pretty. A huge pool with tons of private cabanas, then big dance floors and such. We didn't stay long once we found our promoter and said hi, 'cause the mood was pretty mellow. We tried to get into XS, but they think way too highly of themselves and we didn't have some necessary THIRD HAND STAMP from Tryst, so they wouldn't let us in without a $20 cover. And I don't pay no cover, I highly doubt your club is $20 worth of fun.

We went back to Tryst, and our Canadians were SO HAPPY TO SEE US. 

And we danced, and drank champagne, and chatted, and the energy was awesome, and we had such fun.

The Biff and the Buff and I are all on the exact same page as far as party personality and style, which just works out so well for Vegas, which can get too crazy. We were always ready to go out at the same time, and leave at the same time, and do the same things. And they put so much care and thought into making sure I had the greatest time. LOVE THEM.

Honestly, despite my prediction, my hangovers weren't that bad. I drank plenty but I wasn't shitfaced, and I stayed hydrated, go me. The badness only came from lack of sleep. So the drive home was uncomfortable but not torturous, though the last hour or so got a bit dicey...the car would drift...

That is all I can remember, for now, for my recap. Oh yeah, I smooched another Canadian. Middle Eastern and quite hot, though then I started talking to his friend and liked him better and was like "damn, this is why you don't pick so early". Oh, and HOW AWESOME ARE MY PINK SHOES? They gave me blisters, but really they were not that bad considering they're bigger than my head. And my oh my did I let off some necessary steam. And I should really unpack tonight.

And I love my Biff and my Buff.