Archive for November, 2008

I’m fairly positive that I’ve gained at least 20lbs. since Wednesday.

Who knew I would be starting a new Thanksgiving tradition?

It all started last year when I was working at Bank of America. My boss wouldn’t let me have any time off around Thanksgiving, not the day before, and definitely not the day after. Determined to have the family together for Turkey Day, my dad flew me home for less than 24 hours so that I could partake in the eat-a-thon. Now this might not sound that bad, I know. Big deal, you didn’t get to see your family for very long for Thanksgiving, boo-hoo. However, the day of my flight (something my boss new of for weeks in advance) I was not allowed to leave work more than two hours early. I worked downtown in Union Square, it takes at least an hour to get to the airport from there and being the day before a major holiday, it’s usually understood that the airport will be a zoo. As my work day went on, the amount of time I was allowed to get to the airport became shorter and shorter until she only gave me an hour to get to SFO. By the time I was counting out my drawer I was shaking with anxiety, on the verge of tears with less than an hour before my flight. I grabbed my bag and was literally running down Powell St. I ended up with bruises on my hips from running with my heavy, heavy bag.

By the time I got onto BART and sat down I thought I was going to start losing my hair from stress and I had to put on my sunglasses to hide the tears that were slowly making their way down my cheeks. All I could do was keep praying that I would make my flight.

I got to the airport 10 minutes before my flight was to leave, checked in and ran to the security check. Unfortunately, I still had my “bro beater” on my key chain (something I had gotten through security check with before) and was detained by an obese asshole who refused to let me go until I admitted that I was in fact carrying a weapon, which was something I refused to do. It was a no-win situation. The ass finally let me go (without my bro beater); I grabbed my stuff and sprinted to the terminal where they were apparently holding the plane for me after seeing that I had checked in electronically. I was crying, thanking and apologizing to every flight attendant I saw as I made my way to my seat. I sat down, buckled up and was immediately taxiing down the runway.

Needless to say, I quit Bank of America as soon as I got back into the city for fear of the same thing happening for Christmas (among other things).

This year I was positive nothing would go wrong. I mean, sure I had to lug my suitcase around in the rain, but I enjoy the rain anyway, so no biggie. I got to the airport in a timely matter and went to check in. Having never flown with United, I had no idea that they charged you extra to check in one bag. I didn’t have my debit card, they didn’t take American Express and the only thing I had was cash. Since the machine didn’t take cash I was directed to another line, a long one. There were two attdendants helping at the counter, not nearly enough for the line that was forming. When I got up and explained my situation to the very disconcerted attendant she informed me that I was too late and they were no longer checking bags for my flight. Apparently there’s a 45 minute cut-off and I was 10 minutes late. She gave me no other options and dismissed me from her counter.

I had no clue as to what to do and started to panic. I called my parents who also weren’t entirely sure about what I should do. My dad suggested putting my suitcase in a locker and just getting on the flight or just trying to take the thing on the plane, which wasn’t really an option because it’s just barely over the carry on size limit. It was decided that I needed to go and ” raise fucking hell and make a scene”. I was already starting to cry, feeling defeated and thinking that I was going to have to go back home, and since I’m usually not one to go and raise a stink about something, I was hoping the tears and runny mascara would work. I went to the nearest attendant, who upon seeing my tear-streaked face and hearing my situation went right to work to make it all better. Unfortunately, they still wouldn’t take my suitcase and all other flights to San Diego were booked. Orange county was booked too and my next option was LAX, which is where I ended up. My new flight was supposed to leave 40 minutes after my San Diego flight, which wasn’t bad, but once I got to the gate I learned there was an hour delay. Lame. It took my sister longer to drive to LA to pick me up than it did for me to fly there. I started my journey to Vista at 12pm and didn’t make it to my parents house until almost 8pm.

Again, needless to say, I’ll never fly United again. So what am I thankful for this year? Once again making it to Vista to see my family for Thanksgiving by the skin of my teeth. Let’s hope there’s not a repeat next year…


You have got to be kidding me.

I have started yet another blog! Ambitious, I know, considering I can hardly keep up with this one. It’s a joint blog though of mine and Kiss’s (nighttime) adventures here in the city. It should be a riot, so check it out! And tell us what you think. There’s not much there yet, but it just started, so give us some time and some quality words will be typed and published…

Really, it’s always the little things that make me happiest.

Take tonight for example. On my evening commute home, I hopped onto the MUNI West Portal shuttle at Montgomery to find a fairly well-dressed, but ultimately smelly homeless man sitting on a seat with a cat in his arms. I admit that I am not, nor have I ever been a “cat person” but the cat in this man’s arms was nothing short of WONDERFUL. I couldn’t help but stare at it in wonder and try to stifle my very apparent laughter. As soon as I got a good look at it, I desperately wished I could have taken a picture of it. I will do my best to describe its features.

For starters, it was on a leash, and I have a thing for cats on leashes. I’ve only seen them here in San Francisco, and it never ceases to amaze me. Like many cats, it was fluffy and a multitude of grays, black and white, but that’s not what made this little kitty so special. It was the face. As soon as I saw that smashed in face, lazy-eyed, mouth-opened, tongue-wagging face I knew I was in love and I just couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

An example of a "smashed face" cat.

An example of a

After googling “smashed face cat” this was the best I could find. I couldn’t even figure out what kind of cats these are, but I’m on a bit of a time crunch too. So, anyway, picture a cat similar to this one with a much more smashed in face, a lazy eye and its mouth open, with its little pink tongue hanging out in the arms of a homeless man, on a leash. Fucking amazing.

My roommate tried to kill me again tonight.

Two things that I will no longer be able to eat after this past weekend:

1. Donuts

2. Salmon patties

P.S. I can’t sleep.

This is an apology that you will never actually see.

This one is a little personal:

I have once again drunkenly out-done myself. I didn’t think I could possibly get any better, but apparently I can with the help of my old, deceitful friend, Mr. Vodka.

Please believe me when I say that this was truly an accident. I swear on my beloved, deceased, best friend, Tuffy. Clearly, I did not remember New Years’ Eve of 2006 when Mr. Vodka and I first hooked up…which ended in regret the next morning, which was when I decided to swear off of him and all of his flavored friends. I just couldn’t trust myself alone with them.

Fast forward two years later: Disco, Drugs and Drag Queens is the theme and the celebrated event, my roommates birthday. I was persuaded to wear ridiculously sexy, leather-looking leggings of the Lindsay Lohan fashion with a slinky gold top, and needless to say, I was scared. I have short stubs for legs and the top was held together with one little string. Never in my life have I considered myself “sexy” nor purposely dressed the part; so a good stiff drink was in order. Having also been a little tired from the previous night, I decided to mix my Rockstar energy drink with vodka. Who knew that Rockstar would mask the taste of vodka so well? I kept topping my drink off with vodka thinking there wasn’t enough in it because I couldn’t taste it…I had two red cups of this mixture before the party even started…plus a shot of Goldschlagger to get the party started…

As my roommate Kiss described, it was as if I had an “on/off switch”. One minute I was fine, the next, I was all over the place. I could have been running around naked and I wouldn’t have even cared. I was dancing, DJ’ing and dancing some more. At one point I ran to my room for whatever reason (probably to find my phone and then proceed to drunk text) when my computer caught my eye. I immediately got on and started drunkenly chatting with friends. At one point I remember how incredibly difficult it was becoming to type and the next…? I got a text from a particular friend whom I was really looking forward to seeing/snoogling/hanging out with that said he wouldn’t be making it to the party…it was all over after that…unfortunately, another friend got the brunt of my anguish over this situation via internet chatting and I didn’t even really realize it until the next morning. That was the most painful conversation I have ever had to reread in my life. And embarrassing beyond words. I can only imagine what this person must think of me; especially since he has not talked to me since and I’m too ashamed to do anything about it. When I told a friend of mine this story, she assured me, “This will be funny in a few months, it is now. [He probably thinks] that you’re a crazy bitch. Hahahaha. It’s cool. Take comfort in the fact that you’re not, and that makes it even funnier.” And she’s right. So that’s what I’m trying to do.

After I made that mess, came the uncontrollable tears. Huge alligator tears that I just couldn’t stop from crying despite my best efforts. I literally cried all of my make up off and was a mascara-tear streaked mess. I really wish I had a picture of what I had looked like. When I try to imagine it, I get that Hole album cover in my head, the “Live Through This” one; only 10 times worse. I know I must have been sobbing pretty hard because my eyes were all swollen the next morning. It’s amazing the way Mr. Vodka can fuck with me and intensify my emotions.

Around 3am a friend woke me up to check on me. I immediately ran to the bathroom to rid myself of the bottle of rubbing alcohol I must have drank–that’s what it smelled like anyway. As I stood up, I caught myself in the mirror–hair wildly disheveled, make up completely gone, and one false eyelash still attached with my party clothes on. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself and wonder what in the hell happened.

So, to those of you that I missed at the party because I locked myself in my room and passed out wasted around 11:15pm, I apologize. I’m sorry I missed all the dancing and debauchery to be had. And to the person who I wrote, “Please don’t ever see me again” (or maybe it was “talk to me again”? I’m not sure, I erased the conversation because it was too terrible to keep) and spewed word vomit all over, I am sincerely sorry. I paid for it the next morning, believe me.

And to the man–nay, the boy who made me cry, I still hate you. (Not really, but it makes me feel better to write that…and with time, I’ll get over you just as easily as you seem to have gotten over me.)

Organic whole-wheat pasta is not what I thought it’d be…

Just a quick update on the whole kankle-calves thing: For those of us girls with larger-than-average calves, I have discovered that Target makes boots that will fit us! They’re cheap, and they probably won’t last long, but they’ll fit! Yay!

I danced on a float during LoveFest!

My roommate, Kiss, tried to starve me to death recently. If you ask her, she’ll tell you it was my idea, and I’ll admit it was, but she was the one looking for an eating disorder, not me. Actually, we were both just feeling a little fatty that day and were looking for a quick fix when I remembered a little something called “The Master Cleanse”! I suggested it to her, and after some quick internet research (no, we didn’t even buy the book) decided it was exactly what we needed. Here are the deets:

For 10 days you drink nothing but (water and) 2 liters a day of a concoction of water, lemon juice, cayenne pepper and maple syrup. It sounds kind of gross, but it just tastes like liquid hot Cheetos or that Mexican candy Lucas. And the longer it “ferments” the spicier it gets. The diet calls it “lemonade”, we just ended up calling it “spicy water”. Along with this, you’re suppose to also drink a laxative tea and a “salt water cleanse” once a day.

The salt water cleanse or “SWC” scared me. You have to chug a liter of salt water (which isn’t actually digestible) and wait for its after effects which I read weren’t very pretty…I read that after chugging this “cleanse” you’d end up spending quite a few hours in the bathroom…on top of that, people that had actually done this on a daily basis said they felt as if they needed to puke half way through it. This was not at all something I was looking forward to. Honestly, who has the time to spend up to 3 hours on the toilet?

Now, people that do this Master Cleanse claimed to lose up to 20 pounds–water weight and intestinal waste, mostly. But it sounded promising none-the-less. However, at one point during my internet research I found a cute little paragraph that compared this cleanse to those suffering from anorexia…Kiss said she wanted an eating disorder, right?

So, we made our spicy water in preparation for our first day on the cleanse. Kiss had school, and I, work. The next morning, I took a back pack to work with my 2 liter jug in it because I was too embarrassed to carry that thing around. Now, the office I work on takes up three stories of a building downtown, and rather than taking the elevator up and down, I take the stairs. It’s usually faster and I enjoy the exercise. Not on this day though. I found that I couldn’t run up the stairs at my usual pace, and when I finally reached my destination, I was usually a little dizzy and lightheaded; more so during the end of my work day. And apparently it showed on my face because a friend/fellow employee who knew I was doing this cleanse told me so. By the time I got off of work, I had turned down both chocolate and gourmet coffee, drank almost all of my spicy water, started to get a headache and felt about 3 times slower than usual. It was a long day.

I felt like a crazy person as I finally reached my house after that long, undernourished day at work. I crawled to my room, dropped my things and crawled to Kiss’s room where I collapsed on the floor in a hazy delirium. She was laying in bed, but seemed to be in better shape than I was. Despite the increasing intensity of my headache and the hunger pangs, I was still on the fence about giving up. We weighed the options and decided to keep going and see how we felt the next day.

We went to the living room to hang out and be around eachother for moral support. I ended up passing out on the couch with a pounding headache hoping I would not wake up for the following reasons:

1. I didn’t want to have to drink anymore spicy, lemon water. Just the thought made my stomach turn.

2. I couldn’t handle the headache.

3. I really just wanted to eat.

4. I was scared to death of the “salt water cleanse” and its after effects.

Unfortunately, I woke up. And not only did I wake up, but I woke up to the smell of my other roommate making himself dinner. At this point, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I started begging to be allowed to eat; and although no one was physically holding me back, I just couldn’t abandon Kiss. So instead, I took it upon myself to convince her that eating was much more fun than not. However, it was our other roomie, the voice of reason (the one eating dinner) that finally convinced us both that we were being completely ridiculous, and thank goodness too. When he left to go to his room, we were still hanging on to the cleanse idea when I finally just chucked it and went for the kitchen.

The first thing we dove into was the peanut butter. The most delicious peanut butter I have ever had in my life. While eating spoons of peanut butter we made the best pasta I’ve ever had in my life; making this one of the happiest times of my life. Food had never tasted so good and to this day, that’s probably the best pasta I’ve ever had.

The next morning, we both woke up chipper and in a healthy and productive mindset. It was wonderful. Since this near death experience, we have decided that starving ourselves at least once a month will make us appreciate eating in all its glory. So that’s the plan.