The hideousness of this dance will haunt my dreams forever.
Can we go on record and say this is the last picture we’ll be taking at a Salinas fiesta?
Every year, the town my mom is from in the Philippines hosts this fiesta in San Diego. And every year, I look forward to one thing… nachos. It used to be seeing my relatives, but lately we’re the only offspring who show up to this shindig since all of our cousins are too busy reproducing. So as I got ready this morning, the only thing keeping me from staying home were those nachos.
Pammie and I met up with Chel, and I noticed she was eating an empanada. She loves nachos even more than I do (if that’s possible), so I asked her if she had already eaten nachos before we got there, and she tells me they ran out! WTF. We only stayed there long enough to say hello to our aunts and take this one last picture. Boo whore.
Congrats to the Naveas! The table I was assigned to was the last to be served dinner, but the closest to the open bar (clearly the best table).
|Mom: They’re getting married this friday.|
|mayanrocks: do her kids know she’s getting remarried?|
|Mom: No… so don’t tweet about it!|
|mayanrocks: i don’t even know who you are right now.|
Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worst, returned. But one thing about human beings puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within.
This is my third post this week that has food as its focal point. Someone randomly messaged me and asked where he should buy his girlfriend’s birthday cake yesterday. Do I look like I’ve eaten a lot of birthday cake or something? Because sadly, I have. And if you’re wondering what I suggested, I told him that European Cake Gallery in Point Loma is the place to go! Their White Bavarian cake with fresh strawberries, whipped cream and white chocolate shavings is the best I’ve ever had. And I’ve had a lot.
Anyway, Pizza Port just opened a location in Ocean Beach, and I’m excited because it’s closer than the ones in North County, and it’s near Trace’s house so I’ll have an excuse to see her more often. She couldn’t make it tonight, but Chris, Jay and Liz were able to go.
In preparation for the damage I was going to do at Pizza Port, I got my Slim Fast on at work (I didn’t lunge and squat to an entire
Ke$ha song after an hour of kickboxing last night for nothing). Yes, that’s Robert Pattinson on my desktop. And yes, I know that my desktop is littered with an embarrassing number of icons. Get off me.
It probably wasn’t the best idea to have a beer when all I’d had was Slim Fast the whole day. I already felt buzzed by the time our food arrived.
We started with some Garlic Beer Buddies (whole grain beer crust brushed with garlic and deliciousness):
Then we ordered the Meet Extreme Meat pizza. And the Garlic Veggie pizza (pictured). And some wings and cheese sticks, too. In our defense, they were just 35¢ each. It would’ve been ridiculous NOT to get them…
As we rolled ourselves back to the car, we passed by the OB Farmers Market and picked up some mini donuts like we hadn’t just gorged ourselves at Pizza Port:
I wish we would have stopped there, but we hit up Yogurtland before heading home, too. For shame :(
(image via the notebook doodles)
The Postal Service – The District Sleeps Alone Tonight
A stranger with your door key
Explaining that I’m just visiting
And I am finally seeing
Why I was the one worth leaving
At the risk of ruining what glimmer of street cred I might have, I’m going to let you in on my secret shame… I used to be in show choir. I have the sequin dress and nude character shoes to prove it. Fortunately, there’s no audio or video proof, but I think that admitting it is proof enough. Naturally, I fell in love with the TV show, Glee. And yes, I’m a total Gleek… What of it??? Last night, the girls and I headed up to LA to watch them in concert.
I took the day off from work, but was awakened at an ungodly hour by Shi, who loves her job and decided to take a half day instead. I mean, I don’t even know why she went to work at all. I’m sure her day consisted of taking two lunches, removing her nail polish with the cotton balls and nail polish remover she keeps readily available in her office, and calling me six times before 10am. Seriously, can I enjoy?
We picked up Pammie in the OC and stopped at In-N-Out for lunch. With our ridiculous order of extras (extra fries, extra-large drinks, extra-toasted buns, burgers cut in half… who are these people?), I’m surprised we ever made it to LA at all.
The LXD opened for Glee and I was blown away (especially by Madd Chadd Smith and his panty droppin’ chest pops). Def check out their inspiring performance at TED earlier this year. I’ll spare you the rest of the concert details, but the show was amazing. And I’m pretty sure Puck singled me out in the crowd and gave me a thumbs up in this picture. Try not to be too jealous:
We stayed the night at Pammie’s and planned to eat brunch at Break of Dawn in Laguna Hills before heading home:
Little did we know we’d be waking up at the break of dawn, too. Shi needed to be back in SD by noon, so brunch turned into breakfast. 8:30 isn’t too early for a cocktail, is it?
Shi ordered the craziest mac and cheese I’ve ever seen. It had Sicilian sausage, short ribs, smoked gouda, tomato carbonara sauce, and was topped with bacon fried eggs:
Pammie and Chel both ordered the green eggs and ham benedict. Would they eat them in a box? Would they like them with a fox? And an even bigger question—how has Shi never heard of Green Eggs and Ham???
I ordered the most sinful thing on the menu… creme brulee french toast. It def beat the strawberries and cream french toast I had from Cafe 21 (and that’s saying something):
Pammie also got promoted to manager of her auditing department yesterday, so I just wanted to say congrats again! I know she won’t be moving back home to San Diego anytime soon, so I guess I’ll just have to keep going up to the OC to visit her. And if I’m forced to eat at Break of Dawn while I’m there, then so be it.
Christine, Shi, Chel and I hit up The Pearl Hotel for dinner, drinks and Dive-in Theatre tonight. They were showing Sex and the City: The Movie poolside, so we thought we’d get together and watch it for the millionth time.
Shi: (looking at the menu) What’s a pom-us fritz?
Mayan: Pommes frites! It’s what you’re eating, crazy! French fries!
I wish I wasn’t so mean about it. Karma’s only a bitch if you are (as I would find out later). How is she supposed to know what pommes frites is, or how to say it? This is the girl who thought we made up the word aioli, after all.
I love it when I arrive for dinner and there’s a cocktail already waiting for me:
Our pommes frites appetizer tasted like skinny In-N-Out fries (my favorite!):
The highlight of my evening… prosciutto-wrapped shrimp skewer with fig/onion marinade:
And the lowlight of my evening… eating shit on the way back to my car with Chel. I tripped over the curb, scraped my elbows and knees, bruised my shins, and ripped a hole in my favorite jeans.
I’m sorry, Shi… You can call it “pom-us fritz” if you want to.
(image via fuckyeahrdj)
I will outclass you so hard you will cry tears.
Here is the aforementioned I ♥ Haters shirt that Shi gave me for shits and grins. Don’t hate. I only wear it when I’m breaking into my own house with no bra on.
I found myself locked out of my house this afternoon. Bra-less.
It was my worst nightmare realized.
I went into the garage to get my bra in my car (don’t ask me why I thought it was in there), and I realized that I had locked the garage door behind me by habit. And then I realized that my bra wasn’t in my car. And then I realized that I was fucked.
I found the “I ♥ Haters” shirt Shi had given me in my trunk, so I threw that on. I knew that my bedroom window was open, but my room is on the second floor. I went into the backyard and scaled the fence like a ninja. I stood there for a few minutes staring at the gap between the roof I needed to jump on and the top of the fence where I stood. I just kept imagining myself lying on the ground with my legs broken… my “I ♥ Haters” shirt over my head, exposing me in all my bra-less glory while I waited for someone to help me. And so I decided to explore other options.
I went around the back and checked to see if I left the sliding door open after I let Rocky out. But of course, today was the one day I remembered to lock it. I didn’t think that the front window would be unlocked, since I never open it, but I checked it anyway, and it was! I took the screen door off, slid the window open and climbed inside. During all that commotion, Rocky just lay there on the couch staring at the wall. Useless!
Here’s what I’ve learned from this experience:
- It’s a little too easy to break into my house.
- Don’t take your bra off in your car.
- Get a dog that will at least try to look alive when someone is potentially breaking into your house.
Deftones – Risk
You can’t talk, I’m anxious
I’m off the walls, I’m right here just
Come outside, and see it
But pack your heart, you might need it
My coworker ate shit, split her lip and nearly broke her arm while walking to work today. As someone whose legs are permanently scarred (and ruined!) from falling down the stairs last Halloween, I empathized and tried to ease her pain with an Iced Caramel Macchiato and a ride home from work. She loves Chelsea Lately and would definitely appreciate this quote:
At some point during almost every romantic comedy, the female lead suddenly trips and falls, stumbling helplessly over something ridiculous like a leaf, and then some Matthew McConaughey type either whips around the corner just in the nick of time to save her or is clumsily pulled down along with her. That event predictably leads to the magical moment of their first kiss. Please. I fall ALL the time. You know who comes and gets me? The bouncer.
Luckily, I have friends who escort my drunk ass out before the bouncer does. The same friends also take incriminating cell phone pictures of me passed out in hotel bathrooms and whip them out amongst strangers, but that’s neither here nor there.
Every night after work, I begrudgingly drag my ass to the gym. But today, I finally found my motivation. Turbo Kickboxing Instructor Mike, where have you been all my life??? It will be like that summer I took that art class in college with that hot teacher and had unusually perfect attendance that quarter ;)
Update: I just googled Mike to see what gyms he regularly teaches at since he subbed my class today, and his personal training site lists him as MARRIED (of course he is). Come to think of it, that hot art teacher from college was married, too.
Yeah, I’m pretty sure God wants me to die alone. And possibly out of shape.
My life is in shambles. I pretty much have no reason to live now that they’ve canceled the 91X morning show (again). They already broke my heart in 2007 when they fired Cantore. My morning commute to work won’t be the same without the Drunk Dial Line (often powered by the Lakeside double-wide division) and the always awesome Mat Diablo. Seriously, what’s up with me and my tendency towards married men with children???
Here’s Mat with my other love, Sam the Cooking Guy (who’s also married with children):
Now if they decide to cancel Sam the Cooking Guy’s show, I will have to kick whoever’s responsible square in their taco. Don’t think I won’t!
If my mom had taught me how to cook, I would have made her brunch today. Instead, my aunts came down from LA for Mother’s Day and made these nutella-filled ebleskivers. I inhaled maybe twenty of them, give or take a few. Fucking Europeans trying to sabotage me with their delicious treats. It’s not racist if it’s a compliment, right? Is that how it works?
Aww, check out my mom with her mom on Mother’s Day weekend. I know what you’re all thinking… Yes, my beautiful mother looks freakishly young for a woman in her fifties. And yes, my children will be just as blind as us four-eyed freaks. I would say that 20/20 vision should be a requirement for my future baby daddy, but the pool keeps shrinking the closer I get to my dirty thirties, so I think it would be wise not to discriminate, don’t you?
I’m all about good food and good drinks with good friends, and this diet is just ruining my life. I don’t even know who I am right now. Did I really say no to Cinco de Drinko at D&B’s with Jay and his coworkers AND margaritas at Ortega’s with Shi and her coworkers this week? I think the bigger question is what’s the deal with me hanging out with my friends and their coworkers??? As a general rule, I don’t go out with the people I work with. At least not since my manager’s drunken birthday disaster of 2008. Yikes. Anyway, with only six weeks left till Chel’s wedding, I’ve been eating bird portions and hitting the gym every night in a late attempt to fit into the bridesmaid dress I purposely (and over ambitiously) ordered three sizes too small. Apparently, losing 25 pounds wasn’t enough. It would’ve been, had I lost it all in my chest. As I always say, these ladies are a blessing and a curse. This sudden spike in turbo kickboxing classes has also left me with some seriously sore stems. I have to admit, walking around like I’ve just been butt-raped has been very humbling.
Julian Casablancas – Glass
I don’t believe it
I won’t believe it
I’m not sad
That’s how it goes
I’m in love with the Strokes, but I’m not really into Julian Casablancas’ solo album. I do love this one song, however. I’d love it more if he sang it acoustic. In my bedroom. With no pants on.
I’m not sure how I got swindled into baking brownie bites with peanut butter frosting for the Cinco de Mayo potluck at my work when a) I don’t even eat anything at the potlucks because I Lean Cuisine it during the week and b) what the hell do brownies with peanut butter frosting have to do with Cinco de Mayo? Someone scribbled “Marion’s brownies” on the sign-up sheet underneath the guacamole and tortilla chips. Freak ass freaks. You bring something good once, and people just won’t let you forget about it.
Today, I’m excited because:
- I just bought tickets to the Neon Trees/30 Seconds to Mars show in LA.
- I weighed myself after a few months of dieting/exercising/losing my will to live for Chel’s wedding, and I’ve lost 25 pounds.
- Shawn the stripper has been confirmed for Chel’s bachelorette/passion party.
I don’t think I have to tell you which one I’m most excited about… Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve been looking for an excuse to bring Shawn back into my life since 2005 ;)
Neon Trees – Sins of My Youth
Call me crazy, I was born to make a mess
Would you love me still if I were to confess
That I had a little too much fun back when I was young
I’ve got these habits that I cannot break
And as I’m older there is more at stake
Go ahead and call me fake, but these are the sins
The sins of my youth
The girls and I stumbled by Station Tavern and Burgers when we were down the street getting our Booty Bassment on at Whistle Stop a couple months ago. The restaurant is beautifully designed, and they’ve got these gorgeous lights hanging in their outdoor patio, so we said we’d come back to eat there sometime. We had dinner there last night, and it changed my life! My burger was amazing, and I wanted its pillowy challah bun to have my babies. Hodad’s still has the best burger I’ve ever had, but Station Tavern is a very close second. If the bacon at Hodad’s joined forces with Station Tavern’s challah buns, its level of deliciousness would be illegal in some small countries. Their garlic fries were pretty outstanding, too. And it was cheap! The four of us spent $50—burgers, sides and beers included. It’s in South Park, so it’s family-friendly. Everyone was there with their babies and/or their dogs. Well, everyone except for us. #1: I don’t have a baby. And #2: I left Rocky’s funky butt at home where he belongs. We stayed there
bitching about ex loves reminiscing till they closed at midnight. And as if we didn’t have enough meat on Saturday, we hit up Phil’s BBQ today for some more meaty goodness. I think I might have been overcompensating.
I’ve got wallowing down to a science… I spent the better half of 2006 perfecting it, after all. I’m not gonna lie, my usual method of getting over someone is by getting under someone else. But I’m realizing that happiness is an inside job. I can’t sit here waiting for another guy to come along to stop wallowing about the last one. One day, you just have to decide not to be sad anymore. And that day was today. Well, actually it was Friday, but killing a few bottles of wine with Anthony foiled that plan. And then I decided it was yesterday. But while getting drinks with friends, one of the employees came up to our table and asked if any of us were he who shall not be named, because he who shall not be named had a phone call. Coincidence or cruel joke? As I walked out wondering if it was a sign, I looked up to the sky, dramatically shook my fist at the heavens, and almost got hit by a car. And so I decided that today would be the day (again). It’s barely noon, but I’m feeling optimistic. I mean, I’m going to Phil’s for lunch… If a beefy rib tickler isn’t guaranteed happiness, I don’t know what is.
Phoenix – Lisztomania
Let’s go slowly, discouraged
We’ll burn the pictures instead
When it’s all over we can barely discuss
For one minute only, not with the fortunate only
Thought it could have been something else
This song always puts me in a good mood :)