Born Marion. Nicknamed Mayan. Graphic Designer.
SD native living in LA.
Young the Giant addict.
If you don't know who that
is, then we are wasting our
time here.
I just need two more things to make this overpriced studio a home. Anyone know where I can get a good deal on a french bulldog and/or a couch in the south bay? I went furniture shopping this past weekend, and nothing seemed worth carrying up three flights of stairs or testing my friendships over.
Say goodbye to ugly white vertical blinds, and hello to wood blinds and linen curtains. And if you’re wondering if the drapes match the carpet, I’ve got hardwood floors. And so does my apartment! Ha.
I know this is just a rental, but I like to fill the void in my life with home decor.
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I don’t know what drugs to take
To successfully alter the state
That my mind has been in as of late
Something is eating away at my brain
New album = new tour! I love me some Dallas Green.
You have nothing. You have a pile of secrets and lies, and you’re calling it love. And in the meantime, you’re letting your whole life pass you by while they raise children, and celebrate anniversaries, and grow old together. You’re frozen in time. You’re holding your breath. You’re a statue waiting for something that’s never going to happen. Living for stolen moments… you keep telling yourself they all add up to something real, because in your mind they have to, but they don’t. They won’t. They never will, because stolen moments aren’t a life. So you have nothing. You have no one.
I’m officially settled into my new home on Manhattan Beach Boulevard! I hired a moving company because I live in a third-floor walk-up, and I may or may not still be sore from bringing my TV up the other night! Ha. I was hoping the movers would look like Ryan Gosling à la Blue Valentine, and they did—except they looked less like Ryan Gosling in the first half of the movie and more like Ryan Gosling after they fast forwarded a decade and ripped his heart out (along with most of his hair). Them’s the breaks!
9:30 in the morning might seem a bit early to chalk this day up as a loss, but I’m going to do it anyway. This does not bode well for my weekly weigh-in tomorrow.
What was supposed to be a quick break from baby shower planning turned into 7 hours of drinking and me getting a ride home at 2am! This hostess was def hurting in the morning.
OLIVIA: I wait for you. I watch for you. My whole life is you. I can’t breathe because I’m waiting for you. You own me, you control me, I belong to you…
FITZ:You own me! You control me. I belong to you. You think I don’t want to be a better man? You think that I don’t want to dedicate myself to my marriage? You don’t think I want to be honorable? To be the man you voted for? I love you. I’m in love with you. You’re the love of my life. My every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can’t breathe without you. I can’t sleep without you. I wait for you, I watch for you. I exist for you. If I could escape all of this and run away with you? There’s no Sally and Thomas here. You’re nobody’s victim, Liv. I belong to you. We’re in this together.
…
I stayed home from work for a couple of days this week… partly because I have the flu, but mostly because I wanted to catch up on Scandal!
I may be a little late to this party, but how awesome is this show???
Much needed mo-pho-jitos at Manhattan Beach Post last weekend with my friends who came to visit and a one Marshall Faulk who is probably the biggest dick on earth.
He and his bevy of blondes were seated at a communal table with us. I had no idea who he was, of course, but Anthony has been a fan of his since he played for San Diego State. Marshall Faulk was such an asshole to Anthony when he tried to talk to him, though! Hey man, only me and my friends are allowed to be assholes to Anthony! Ha.
After putting in 20 hours of overtime this weekend, I don’t know what’s sadder—is it that I had vending machine pop tarts for dinner, or that I know from experience that the lights automatically shut off at my work at midnight?
It was raining all weekend, so naturally I thought it was a good idea to bust out the ice cream maker attachment that my brother-in-law got me for my stand mixer!
Last night, I made a raspberry sorbet that would bring you to your knees.
6 cups fresh raspberries
1 teaspoon lemon juice
Simple Syrup (see below)
1 cup Framboise Lambic
Place the raspberries and lemon juice in a food processor and puree until smooth, then pour through a fine-mesh strainer into a bowl, pressing on the solids to extract the raspberry puree. Discard the seeds.
Whisk the chilled simple syrup into the raspberry puree. Put mixture in fridge to chill.
Pour the beer into a medium saucepan and place over medium heat. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat slightly, and boil for 1 minute. Watch the pan carefully so it doesn’t boil over. Remove from the heat and let cool.
Gently whisk the beer into the raspberry mixture. Process in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer’s instructions.
Simple Syrup
1 cup water
1 cup sugar
In a medium saucepan, combine the water and sugar. Place over medium heat and bring to a boil, whisking often to dissolve sugar. Reduce the heat to medium and-low and simmer for 4 minutes, while continuing to whisk until all of the sugar is dissolved. Remove from the heat and let cool, then transfer to a container, cover, and refrigerate until cold, at least 1 hour.
Um, of course my #choking playlist has Young the Giant on it… as does my workout playlist and my baby makin’ playlist. Just kidding. (I don’t have a workout playlist.)
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I gave my landlord a swanky electric wine opener for Christmas, so he invited me upstairs to try his favorite cab sauv before I left LA for the holidays. After a few glasses, he asked me if I had a visitor around 3am the night before. 3am??? #1 How dare you? And #2 that was a one-time thing, and I thought I was being discreet! Ha.
Anyway, he said he heard some noise at the door around three in the morning, but he (mistakenly) thought that I had somebody over, so he didn’t want to go downstairs and bother me. He went to bed and didn’t think anything of it until the next day when he noticed that the front door had been tampered with, and there were fresh scratch marks near the dead bolt. Apparently, someone tried to break into the house while I was dead asleep downstairs! Yikes.
If I knew someone was going to come here in the middle of the night looking for money, I would have woken up and looked with them. I OWN NOTHING! But seriously, according to my landlord, he’s ‘good with rifles’ (um, what?) and I’m pretty good with fabric scissors, so beware, burglars!
I forgot my cell phone in my car last night, and I didn’t realize it till almost midnight.
Can we just take a second to talk about my parking situation??? Okay so #1 I don’t have a designated parking spot. My garage is only big enough for my landlord’s BMW, his Mini Cooper and his diamond shoes. #2 I live on a one way street. If I can’t find parking (which is always), I have to go around the block and onto one of the busiest streets in Redondo before getting back on my street. Don’t even get me started on the street sweeping that happens twice a week. Sometimes, some asshole parks in the middle of two driveways and doesn’t leave enough room to park in front or behind them. And sometimes that asshole is me. But I digress.
It was already late, and I had to park two blocks away last night, so I considered staying off the grid till morning. Plus I had already taken my bra off, so I was in for the night. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to wake up for work without all the alarms I have set on my phone, so I grabbed my sharpest pair of fabric scissors (in case some beach bum tried to get crazy) and sprinted to my car. Okay so maybe it was more of a light jog. Get off me. Not only was I running with (fabric) scissors, but I was also running with no bra on, and that’s a dangerous situation in itself, amirite?