Grocery shopping is probably one of my favorite things to do. It’s something I usually do alone and after midnight. I think that I purposely go without making a list first just so I can stay there longer. Pammie hates grocery shopping, so she especially hates grocery shopping with me. Whenever she finds herself at the grocery store with me, she says, “We are NOT getting a cart, Mayan.” Psh. Like not having a cart is gonna shorten my grocery trip. Anyway, today I was cooped up in the house watching Gossip Girl CNN. Pammie had already gone home to the OC, Rocky was busy being dramatic and sighing/tossing/turning on the tile floor, trying to keep cool in this unbearable summer heat. Alicia was with Ray at the fair watching War sing her all-time favorites (Lowrider and Cisco Kid LOL). Il Postino had not called, of course (le’sigh). I figured I could go to the grocery store and find something to buy. Even though I had just gone to Costco yesterday… and Albertson’s the day before.
I moved quickly past the cookie aisle so I wouldn’t stop and drool over all the calories I shouldn’t be eating. My uncoordinated ass pushed my cart directly into the shelf, causing a few boxes of chocolate-drizzled rice cakes to fall on (and around) me. As I was picking up the boxes, for some reason at that moment, I thought about Ken from Pat & Oscar’s in Del Mar. I ate there once years and years ago. I remember everything about that day. I was wearing my baby blue New Found Glory shirt (that I’ve since retired) and actual shoes with laces. If you know me, you know I rock the Reef flip flops all year round. Hey, it’s San Diego… you can get away with that here. It mostly started because I’m one of those people who’s always late, so I never put my shoes on till I get to my destination and that day was no different. I was sitting on the curb outside Pat and Oscar’s tying my shoelaces and my ex-boyfriend was standing there with his arms crossed wondering why I didn’t tie my shoes anytime during the half hour drive to Del Mar and saying, “You shouldn’t be allowed to wear shoes with laces. We should get you some velcro shoes, Mayan.” I opted for flip flops instead. Anyway, I digress.
We’re eating dinner with some friends and I notice this really tall, really cute waiter named Ken carrying a huge stack of plates. He’s like whoa.. whoa.. and the plates are on the floor. I was watching the whole time and I started laughing, and he noticed me laughing and flashed an embarassed smile my way. We were almost done with dinner and I mused outloud, “I think I want a cookie for dessert.” The cute waiter guy is standing nearby and walks up to me and was like, “You want a cookie?” and I’m like, “Ummm, yeah” and I get up to go get one at the counter and he’s like, “I’ll go get it for you” and I’m like, “Okay,” so it takes me like five minutes to dig through my purse for some change for the cookie (sidenote: in re-telling this story, I’m realizing how much I have NOT changed since then), and the guy comes back with the cookie and I hand him the money and he’s like, “Oh, don’t worry about it…” and I was like ok what. I never forgot him. Stuff like that just never happens to me, and that is probably why I remember it so well. I guess i’m just waiting for another Ken to give me a free cookie. Or at least help me pick up these boxes of chocolate-drizzled rice cakes that almost killed me. Someone to just do something nice for me… Gosh!
I always get involved with the same jerks. My therapist says that it’s not THEM, it’s ME. I can only blame myself for choosing the jerks over the nice guys. And by “therapist” I mean The Love Doctor from Channel 933. It’s the only thing on during my morning commute! I don’t know what it is about assholes that attracts a nice girl like me. Maybe it’s the sarcasm. Or the biting wit. Who knows, really. All I know for sure is how it always ends up. And that’s with me grocery shopping alone after midnight. Yet I still involve myself with these jerk offs. Some things never change, I guess… especially me.
I feel completely violated… Can I make it through one day without someone touching my butt? So I’m swaying my hips to Kanye last night, and this Mexican guy behind me is standing pretty close, but I’m like whatevs, we had floor tickets, so everyone was all kinds of close. But then I feel this guy’s hands on my hips and moving down towards my ass, and I’m like whoa, whoa, WHOA! I grabbed his wrists and pushed them away… I’m just not that kind of girl, no matter what you’ve heard on the streets! So anyway, the next song comes on and I’m still swaying and I feel his hands on me yet another time… and I’m like, This bitch. His junk is on my ass and his hands are moving down my sides… WTF. I push him off me one more time. I should’ve punched him in his throat, but he was such a stoner (he smoked out my friend between ass grabs) and I was just trying to have a good time… Then something weird happened. I’m still dancing during Kanye’s set, and I feel his now familiar hands on my hips again, but this time he reaches for my hand and tries to entwine my fingers in his. What are we, on a fucking date or something?
Seriously, can I just find a decent guy who doesn’t feel me up without asking first? Can I? Can I?
Eric: I saw a movie this weekend that I think you’d really like. mayanrocks: yeah? which one… Eric: Moolade mayanrocks: i do like cows. and lemonade. is that what it’s about? Eric: Sort of. It’s a manifesto against the genital mutilation of girls in Africa. mayanrocks: ok what.
…
Apparently, I’m putting some kind of vibe out there that makes people think I’d enjoy the mutilation of African genitals.
I’ve come to realize that I am useless in emergency situations. I thought about it when I went biking downtown with my friends the other weekend… Trace and I were trailing behind, talking, and I was pedaling entirely too fast. I kept bumping her tire on accident, and I was scared that I was going to make her fall, so I just let go of the handle bars and dove into the grass nearby. It didn’t occur to me until I was face down in the grass that all I had to do to avoid falling was put my feet down. Duh. God forbid, I blow a tire on the freeway. Yesterday, a far more serious emergency occurred and pretty much confirmed my inability to function during a crisis. I was at work and it was almost time to leave. I heard this moan followed by a loud bang, so I got up from my seat and looked over my cubicle thinking my co-worker had fallen out of his chair. Instead, I found him hunched over his desk having a seizure and staring directly at me, helpless. I just stood there in horror, unable to move or call for help. Fortunately, my other co-workers were much more useful and were able to get an ambulance there within minutes. I still can’t get the image out of my head. Every time I close my eyes, I see him struggling and me just standing there like an idiot! You should never hang out with me alone. I will clearly be of no help to you in an emergency. I told Pammie what happened, and she was like… What’s gonna happen when you have kids! How about I worry about finding a boyfriend first, okay? Gosh!
In all this hoopla, I almost forgot that I left my iPod at the gym over the weekend. And that I called them to see if it was still there and it was. And I went there, and it totally wasn’t mine. And I had to buy another iPod—my third in three years (the first one destroyed in the great purse disaster of 2005). And that I lost 6,000 songs. And that all my pictures from Hawaii were on that iPod. And that someone is out there listening to my Baby Makin’ playlist and looking at unedited photos of me in a bathing suit.
Yeah, I’m totally gonna forget my kid at the grocery store one day.
Some guy came up to me at a bar tonight and said, Haven’t I seen you before at Dick’s Last Resort? I looked at my coworkers and thought, Is he serious right now? Maybe if I had been a bit more drunk I wouldn’t be at home in my pajamas blogging about this.
I miss Hawaii. The food. The beaches. The weather. The lomi lomi massages. The BOYS. Sure, I can eat kalua pig and spam musubi at any one of the L&L joints in San Diego. And sure, I can pick up entire loaves of taro bread at any of the Asian supermarkets in San Diego. And sure, I can go to any beach I want in San Diego. And fine, the weather is pretty much the same in San Diego most of the year. But do we have Hawaiian boys over here? Maybe. But it’s not the same. The more I travel out of San Diego, the more I’m convinced I’ve exhausted my stay here. They closed my favorite dive bar earlier this month, and if that’s not a sign that I should get the fuck out of here, I don’t know what is. Hawaii is so laid back. I consider San Diego pretty laid back. At least more laid back than LA or Frisco or NYC. But Hawaii is ridiculously laid back. Like telling us to meet in front of the hotel at nine in the morning to be driven to the moped rental store and us showing up ten minutes early and waiting twenty five minutes for someone to arrive kind of laid back. And I like to consider myself a laid back, no worries kind of girl. Even when we were transferring boats to go from jet skiing to parasailing, we were hurrying to take our life jackets off and cross over and the HOT! parasailing instructor said, “There’s no rush, darlin’… This is Hawaii.” That was probably the exact moment I decided I wanted to marry that man stay there forever. Yet here I am… blogging from the Valley. Hawaii was just so amazing. I plan to revisit again and again in this lifetime. My vacation couldn’t have been any more perfect. I miss the girls already. I miss trying to sleep through their symphony of snoring (okay, maybe they miss trying to sleep through my snoring). I miss waking up to Shi singing “Morning’s here.” I miss Chel sticking her fish eye camera in my face. Next year, we’re planning on hitting up NYC. Until then, it’s back to the real world! Boo whore.
The real world ain’t so bad, though… Since I’ve been back, I’ve received an unexpected promotion at Emitations.com, where I’ve been a graphic design intern for the past couple of months. All of a sudden, I found myself putting my two weeks in at AAA. I’m sad to be leaving, but I just can’t pass this promotion up! When you find a job you love, you never have to work a day in your life. Starting next month, I’ll have nights off. And weekends off. I won’t know what to do with myself. I suppose I could go to the gym and lose all that weight I planned to lose BEFORE going to Hawaii. And all that weight I gained while I was IN Hawaii. Or I could just have more time to blog about how much I want to lose weight while snacking on these chocolate covered macadamia nuts I brought home from Hawaii…
So my birthday kicks off this weekend followed by a week in Hawaii with the girls. In preparation, I’ve exercised twice a day drank several Coldbusters to make sure this cold I got over New Years doesn’t ruin my vacation. I’ve also made my pearly whites more pearly, gotten my eyebrows waxed, made an appointment for a pedicure… You know, normal girly things that girls do to make them feel nice (and make boys notice their niceness)… The rest of the girls I’m going to Hawaii with all 1up’d me and gave up carbs and exercised daily and oh, did I mention they all got motherfucking BRAZILIANS! What’s a brazilian, you ask? No, it’s not Tom Brady’s ladyfriend. Let me spell it out for you… It’s P-A-I-N. I popped a vicodin or two (or five) to ease the peroxide-induced pain of teeth whitening. I’m exaggerating zero percent. What would it take for me to numb the pain of waxing where the sun don’t shine? A fucking qualude? That’s a level of sexy I’m not ready for. Most (if not all) of my girl friends are in a relationship. Including my one lesbian friend. I’ve found that as a single girl you can go in one of two directions… You can either wax your nether regions, wear makeup just to get the mail outside and follow a strict diet to a better skinnier you. OR you can take advantage of the fact that nobody sees your legs anymore and let a day or two go by without shaving, eat all the carbs you want because sandwiches make you happier than any man ever could, and forgo the expensive perfume you used to wear for a cheaper bar of Ivory soap. I’ve elected to go the latter since my break up almost two years ago (has it really been that long?). Maybe I’ll reconsider becoming that hairless waif when I don’t enjoy having my bed all to myself anymore.
Seeing Muse headline KROQ’s Almost Acoustic Christmas in LA. The balloons are always my favorite part. More Muse vids from the show here and my own vids of the rest of the bands here.
Getting the best Christmas presents EVER. Pammie bought us both a cooking class with Sam the Cooking Guy (pre-Cinco de Drinko with margaritas, of course!). Alicia bought me a ton of things I love: a Jamba Juice card loaded with enough credit to get me a week’s supply of original sized White Gummi Bears, crushed red pepper in a portable seasoning shaker to carry in my purse because I like it spicy, moisturizing gel gloves from Bath & Body Works that I’ve been eyeballing for years and mint-infused lip balm because I’m all about moist lips and fresh breath. Shi got me a gift certificate for Yogurt World (I profess my love of froyo to anyone who will listen). Chel and Jay both got me cupcake recipe books (though I’m convinced it was more for Jay’s benefit than my own). My WISH LIST is still up for my birthday in two weeks!
Snagging an internship at Emitations where I browse celebrity gossip sites and magazines to see what jewelry the stars are wearing. I’m basically getting paid for something I already do on my own time! Like this. And this.
Getting our Rockband on at Errol’s house.
Gerald coming home for the holidays.
The Bad
My mom having an unexpected surgery and me having to put up her Christmas tree by myself. I’m insanely obsessive-compulsive at times… I had to make sure that all the ornaments were evenly spaced out and that all the colors were balanced around the tree and that no like colors were touching. This went on for HOURS, and I was so sick with myself throughout the entire decorating process. I clearly need help.
Working two jobs and having no time to do much else.
Going downtown and getting so piss drunk that everyone in the car was vomiting (except for the driver, of course… poor Gerald! This was only the second time I’ve heard him yell in ten years—the first time being the day he taught me how to drive a stick shift in his beloved truck… his clutch has since been replaced). We walked ten blocks from Landlord Jim’s to the car and I ended up with a skinned knee and a bleeding puncture wound about the diameter of a stiletto heel in my foot—I was wearing flats, so it wasn’t self-inflicted. But I don’t remember anyone stepping on my foot, either. It could’ve happened during one of the multiple times I slipped and fell on the walk back to the car. Yeah, it was one of those nights.
The Ugly
Getting smoked salmon as a white elephant gift at my family Christmas party. My relatives are pretty vicious when it comes to this game, but I had it all planned out. I formed an alliance with Chel and Pammie so that if anyone stole the gifts we wanted, another one of us could steal it back. I ended up picking the last number and by the time it was my turn, every gift I wanted was locked and couldn’t be stolen. I ended up taking the last unopened gift, and it’s been rightfully submitted to the Bad Gift Emporium.
No time to blog lately. School is kicking my ass. Maroon 5 show last weekend. Met the band. In love with Jesse… And mostly because he resembles Milo Ventimiglia since he cut his hair (which is kind of unfair, really). I used to be into their original drummer, Ryan, and even though I’m all about Jesse now, I’ll always have a soft spot for Adam. It’s like deciding which New Kid on the Block is your favorite all over again, Jordan or Joey (or Donnie, if you’re that kind of girl). Anyway, the show was amazing. We were sitting close enough for Pammie to catch a guitar pick from The Hives and a drumstick from Alex Greenwald, the lead singer of Phantom Planet. It was the end of their tour, so they played a lot of fun pranks on each other. Luckily, I was able to get it all on video…
Here’s Maroon 5 performing “Won’t Go Home Without You” (more from the show here)…
Still amp’d from the show, I stayed up till four or so in the morning watching “The Office” with Jay—not the greatest idea since I had an early morning flight to catch. Jay stayed the night since he was taking me and Pammie to the airport (in the guest room, of course! What kind of girl do you think I am? The Donnie-loving kind?). Pammie woke me up in a rush 45 minutes before our plane was supposed to take off. It all happened so fast. I just remember running around the house trying to get our shit together and making sure everything was locked/turned off and screaming Jay’s name every couple of seconds to make sure his ass was up. We were the last two people on the plane, but we made it…
Before I knew it, we were in Vegas. I ate at multiple buffets, watched the Beatles LOVE show again, watched the Ice show at the Riviera, gambled away $250 of my own money (plus $60 of Pammie’s money)… and then it was time go home. Pammie didn’t have Monday off, so she flew home to the OC early in the morning. My parents and I were supposed to catch a flight to SD around eleven. It was like a repeat of Saturday, with us running towards the terminal. Dropping off the rental car was an unbelievably lengthy process. You have to return it miles away from the airport and then catch a shuttle back to the airport with a bunch of other people who are all carrying an even bigger bunch of luggage with them. By the time we got back to the airport, through security and to our gate, the plane hadn’t boarded yet, so we thought we were okay. The flight ended up being oversold, so all the boarding passes had already been taken and we were told we’d be on standby for the next flight… which turned into the next flight… and the next flight… and the next… and even more flights. We were on standby for SEVEN FUCKING HOURS. I read half a book that I bought from the gift shop. Learned how to do Sudoku. Tried to enjoy a venti iced soy chai tea latte. Finally, around 6 o’clock (and about an hour past when I was supposed to be at work), I go up the the gate where the millionth oversold flight to SD is about to leave and tell the Southwest lady that my family and I have been on standby for seven fucking hours and ask her why we’ve had to wait so long for a flight. She tells me that we’re the first people on the waiting list and she isn’t sure why people have been let on the previous flights before us. I’m standing there going… WTF! Mate! And it turned out that a few people who had already picked up their boarding passes for the oversold flight about to leave didn’t show up to board, so we were able to get on that flight. Before I boarded the plane, I snatched the wait list from her hands, ripped it in half and said, “You fucking remember me forever!”
…except I did not say fucking. Actually, that entire last sentence is completely untrue.
I met Pammie at the Belly Up after midterms to catch the Rooney show. It’s been years since I saw them last, and they were as awesome as I remember them (if not better). The Redwalls opened and they were a nice surprise. Both bands remind me of the Beatles and you know how much I love the Beatles.
So I tried to log into this SDSU database that hosts all the images of the paintings I need to know for my midterm tomorrow. It wouldn’t let me access it from home and the online help desk wasn’t really helpful, so I went all the way back to school to try to access it from the library. I paid for parking, because I don’t have a parking pass—I usually take the trolley. After some help, I was able to get into the database and was told that I *could* access it from home… All I had to do was register. Ugh. I figured I would stay there and study since I was already there. So I’m saving all the images so I can squeeze them all on a few sheets of paper, since I’m just going to cut them out and make flashcards. I’m on a PC and it doesn’t have Photoshop on it, so I E-mail each individual image to myself, so that I can open them on a Mac nearby. I set up all my documents in Photoshop, and I go to print it and the printer isn’t working. I go to the help desk and they say their printers went down earlier, but they should be working on the PCs… but the PCs don’t have Photoshop. I ask them if they could print my document from their computer at the help desk. They say they can’t, but they can print the images from the database. It ends up being eleven pages instead of my condensed two. Whatever, I tell them. I’ll pay for it. At this point they ask to see my SDSU ID. They say it’s the only form of payment they accept and that I can put money on my ID card on the machine around the corner. I stick my ID into the machine and it says to insert cash for deposit. All I have in my wallet are five credit cards, a frequent frozen yogurt card and a couple Sacajaweas that I got as change back from the vending machine at work—don’t even get me started on that. I go back to the help desk and I’m like… So it only takes cash? They tell me I can go to an ATM at one of the markets around school… but they’re all closed right now because it’s ten o’clock at night. At this point I decide that I’ve wasted two hours of my life and $6 in parking and it’s time to go home. I hope I have better luck on my midterms tomorrow.
I just finished memorizing the titles, artists and dates of 75 paintings for part of just one of my midterms tomorrow. UGH! I’m such a procrastinator. I had an entire week off from school last week because of the fires, and instead of studying for my midterms, I baked some red velvet cupcakes, watched a concert at the Belly Up, taught myself how to knit (because I’m not enough of a spinster already), dyed Jay’s shorts Hooter-orange for his Halloween costume, changed my Myspace playlist… Le’sigh. I’ve vowed to start studying for finals early so that I’m not a stressed out biatch come December. I just want this week to be over with already…
Here’s a video from the Colbie Caillat show I went to…
I started this blog over the weekend bitching about the third parking ticket I received this year alone in the OC last week (the second in SD and the first in LA—it’s like I’m trying to be ticketed in every city). Now that San Diego’s going down in flames, it all seems so trivial. I can see one of the five fires burning around SD from my own backyard in the Valley. Besides having class canceled during the Cedar Fire of 2003, I’ve never really been affected by a fire until last night. I thought I’d be able to sit it out in the comfort of my own home like the last time, but the police pounded on our door around six o’clock and urged us to evacuate immediately. I didn’t realize how serious it was until I saw the flames rising above Mt. San Miguel towards my house on TV at my grandma’s apartment. A lot of my friends live in the same neighborhood, so I contacted them all to make sure they were okay, along with my relatives who had evacuated the fires in North County. Luckily, everyone was fine, but my relatives up north won’t find out if their houses were spared until they’re allowed to go back home later this week (along with nearly a million other displaced Californians). I was supposed to have two midterms, a project and a term paper due this week, but class has been canceled through the weekend… That doesn’t really make me feel much better about what’s happening here at home, though.
On a happier note, I finally booked our trip to Hawaii. Pammie, Shi, Chel and I are going to have an amazing time… The only thing I’m not looking forward to is all that exercise I have to do in order to be beach-ready by January. And all that yummy food I have to avoid over the holidays. And all those nights I’ll spend crying myself to sleep out of hunger. I mean… What.
Getting to the station just as the trolley is leaving.
Waiting fifteen minutes for the next trolley.
Realizing I forgot my phone in my car.
Missing the next trolley while I’m looking for my phone in my car.
Not finding my phone in my car.
Waiting fifteen minutes for the next trolley. Again.
Finding my phone in my backpack.
Getting dropped off in front of campus.
Walking ten minutes to the art department in the back of campus.
Walking down five flights of stairs to my classroom.
Finding a note on my classroom door that says my only class today has been canceled.
Attention, unmarried people of America: You can splurge on a fancy new wrist watch without having to explain yourself. You can stay out till 3 a.m. without having to phone home. You can leave the toilet seat up. In fact, there are many, many ways that single life rocks, though you may forget that fact when your relatives are grilling you about settling down. Not only do you have the freedom to do anything you want—it’s also the best time in history to be flying solo. Want more specifics on why you should celebrate being single?
Reason #1: You have a better body. We’ve all been there—you get into a relationship, and suddenly you’re trying out new recipes all the time and cuddling instead of exercising. Well, things tend to get worse with marriage. A recent Cornell University study found that women generally gain five to eight pounds in the first few years of marriage and unhappily married women gain an average of 54 pounds in the first 10 years.For the unmarried, though, the motivation to stay slim remains: “Singles look at themselves through the eyes of others and want to be attractive to potential partners,” says Susan Davis, Ph.D., a clinical psychologist in New York City, “so they’re still ‘working on themselves.’” In short, being single is way better than any New Year’s resolution or exercise DVD to motivate you to stay in shape.
Reason #2: You’re more likely to achieve great things. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you have the time, the quiet and the lack of familial responsibilities. In fact, your premarital motivation to excel in life may be biologically programmed. According to a study conducted at the London School of Economics and Political Scientists, male scientists who stay single longer peak in their careers later in life and tend to be more productive than their married counterparts. Researchers theorize that men, in general, may show off their talents to win the interest of women and then, once they’ve won a wife, get comfortable and do less. In fact, studies have shown that testosterone levels, which boost action, decrease after a man gets married and has children. So single folk should know they are primed to achieve—whether that means turbo-charging their careers or honing their rock-climbing skills—and get out there and work it!
Reason #3: You do less housework. You know that saying about a tree falling in a forest and there’s no one there to hear it? Well, if you leave a sock on the floor but there’s no one else there to see it, does it really need to be picked up? If you’re a single woman, you can contemplate deep questions like this one because you have more free time. According to one study published in the Journal of Marriage and Family, women do less housework when single than when married. Men, on the other hand, do more housework when unmarried (that’s probably because there’s someone picking up after them once they’re wed…). So the message here is for unmarried women to enjoy their less chore-filled life; fill those free hours with classes, good books, blabbing with friends—whatever makes you happy.
Reason #4: You can do what you want with your money—including keep it. Go ahead: Splurge on that pricey moisturizer or that obscenely large plasma TV you’ve been lusting after. You don’t have to justify your purchase to anyone but yourself. Once you mix money with marriage, though, things change—and fast. According to a survey by SmartMoney magazine, 40 percent of women and 36 percent of men have lied to their spouses about a purchase. “When you’re single, your finances are your own,” explains Phyllis Chase, a Los Angeles–based psychologist and co-host of the radio show Shrink Rap. “When you’re married, you have to deal with different styles of spending and saving, and you may take on your partner’s debt.”
Reason #5: You have better sex. Married couples may have more sex (approximately 98 times a year vs. singles’ 49), but singles have better sex. According to a recent study published in the British Medical Journal, married women are significantly more likely to report problems with their sex lives than single women. “People who are dating have better sex because it’s novel,” says Davis. “Married people have to relearn how to play. It’s natural for singles because that’s the nature of a courting relationship—they tease, they experiment, they explore.” Nature lends a helping hand, too. According to researchers at the University of Pisa in Italy, raging testosterone levels in both men and women makes the sex hotter during the first two years of a relationship. After that, other hormones take over—most notably, oxytocin, a bonding chemical, kicks in. While getting connected and comfortable is a positive step in a relationship, long-term lovers have to work harder to keep things hot in the bedroom. Singles, however, sizzle just the way they are.
Reason #6: You’re better rested and smarter. While snuggling up next to a warm body can be pretty fantastic, according to a survey conducted by the National Sleep Foundation, your bedmate can cause you to lose an average of 49 minutes of sleep per night. Sleeping two-to-a-bed just isn’t as restful as snoozing solo. Other studies confirm that singles generally get more rest—seven to eight hours of sleep a night—than marrieds, which enhances memory, mood and concentration, as well as allows your immune system to recharge.
Reason #7: You’re less depressed. Although the media often perpetuates the image of single people being down in the dumps, overall unmarried people tend to be happier than their married counterparts—if you’re a woman, that is.
Reason #8: You have better friendships. Significant others are a wonderful thing, no doubt, but friends count, too. And on that front, one study found that, when women get married and have children, they spend much less time with their friends—less than five hours a week, down from 14 hours. Singles, however, often have the greatest sense of friendship and community—which can actually decrease stress levels, according to researchers at UCLA. Here’s another way to look at this: “Singles don’t rely on just one person to meet their needs. You don’t automatically know who you’re going to spend Friday night with,” says Sasha Cagen, author of Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics. “The plus side is that you have a lot of different people in your life and potentially a greater sense of social possibilities.”
Reason #9: Your travel tales are enviable. Marrieds take the most vacations, dominating the market with 62 percent of all trips taken, but singles arguably go on more interesting trips. According to the Travel Industry Association of America, singles corner the adventure-travel market, engaging in activities like whitewater rafting, scuba diving and mountain biking. Being single and relatively footloose certainly allows you to expand your geographical—and personal—borders.
Reason #10: You know yourself—and what you want out of a relationship. You’re a better catch now than you were at 20. You may have signs of, ahem, experience etched on your face, but that’s OK because you’re more interesting and more self-aware. Not only have you grown as a person, but you’ve probably been through the ringer a few times in matters of love and now know what you want—and what you don’t.
And that’s a wonderful message: Your single self is great… and should you find the right person and decide to marry, you’re more likely to thrive in that stage of your life, too.
I hit a girl. We were in the pit waiting for the Killers to be up and I hit a girl. She was clearly wasted, pushing and punching her way through the mass of people in front of the stage. I heard this commotion of people yelling behind me as this girl started fighting her way to the front. She tried to get past my sister and began punching her from behind. This bitch. She tried to get in front of me next and was digging her elbows into my back, and that’s when the ghetto child who grew up on Deep Dell came out. I pushed her off me and smacked the bitch. I have never in my life hit someone. Well, hit someone and meant it. Sometimes I get excited and push you in all my excitement, but that’s different. I kind of surprised myself (and Pammie and Tin and Jay and Meehchelle). I’m a fucking sweetheart, but I can be a bitch on wheels when push comes to shove. Especially if you’re fucking with me when I’m about to watch the Killers!
ANYWAY. The rest of my weekend rocked! Street Scene was SUCH a disappointment last year because of the unexpected no-shows… But this year, MUSE headlined, and I cannot get over how AMAZING they were. Matthew Bellamy is a musical genius. Muse is the greatest band I’ve ever seen live, hands down. Even Pammie was in the pit with me, jumping up and down and pumping her fists to lyrics she hadn’t heard before! They were EPIC. You should really do yourself a favor by going to one of their shows if you ever get the chance. They’ll be headlining Vegoose with Rage Against the Machine at the end of October, so try and make it out there if you can. You won’t be disappointed!
Here’s Muse performing “Butterflies and Hurricanes” at the show…
The Killers really improved from the last time we saw them at Street Scene a couple years ago and shortly after in LA. I loved their music back then, but their live performance was a little boring. They were awesome this time around… Here they are performing “Jenny was a Friend of Mine”…
Other mentionable artists I saw include the Arctic Monkeys, Panic! at the Disco, Pepper, Z Trip, T-Pain, T.I. and Too $hort (biiiiitch!). The $100+ two-day pass was worth Muse alone.
I’m going to see Kate Earl at the Hotel Cafe in LA tomorrow night, so I’ll have more vids from her show up this weekend. Till then, check out the rest of my VIDEOS from Street Scene, Incubus and my best friend, Trace, rocking the recorder.
The stars and the moons have all aligned at this point in time and have made the unthinkable happen. It has been well over a decade since it last happened and a handful of guys that have brought us to this point. Chris, Dang, Duke, Edgar, Viet, Alvin, Dennis, Daniel, Jed, Anthony, Flex, Mark, and all the miscellaneous boys in between have brought us four to this very place…together.
We’ve been through it all. They love us but we don’t love them. We love them but they don’t love us. Engagements. First apartments. Break-ups for the wrong reasons. Break-ups for the right reasons. Multiple make-ups. Home wreckers. Friends into lovers. Lovers into friends. Lovers into enemies. Lovers we cut out completely. Under cover lovers. Wedding call offs. Returned bridesmaid dresses. College break-ups. Long distance relationships. Being in hopes. Finally letting go. Fighting to make things work.
We could write a book.
“We’re older and we’re not fuckin around anymore.”
I’m always thinking… in life…is it always black and white? Or is there that “grey” place where we can sit and hide from making definite decisions? To me…It either is or it isn’t. You either do or you don’t. That’s me. I wanted to finish college…I did it in 3 years and a quarter. I wanted my real estate license…I woke up, studied, took the state exam, and passed. I wanted to be a manager at my last branch…went to work early, worked overtime, and got it. I wanted to leave the banking center…applied for commercial banking and now I’m here. Dude…I take less than a minute to figure out what to eat at a restaurant. You will never hear me telling a server that I need another minute to figure out what I want to fucking order. To me…it’s THAT easy. But with chel, pam, and mayan…I see that it’s not always black and white. Sometimes it is grey. And trust me, I have bitched with this realization.
There’s a reason why all four of us are going through all this shit together. We’ll know to be careful. We’ll know when it’s too late to make things better. We’ll know when the situation is too fucked up to fix. We’ll know when to forgive. We’ll know if there’s room to let them back in. Or we’ll know when to just walk away. We don’t know for sure now…but our experiences help us put it all in perspective.
I would not want to be single with any other three women than these three bitches.
…
“While everyone is changing, and everything is more fucked up than we ever could imagine it to be, we’re here for each other because we pinky promised we would be.”
Today I wasted 45 minutes of my life driving through streets and parking structures I didn’t even know existed looking for parking on my first day back to school. You would think that I’d be able to find one parking space among the 14,000 spots SDSU claims to have. I ended up paying $12 to park in the one spot open in the KPBS visitor lot that is on the opposite side of campus from my first class (which I had already missed the first half hour of). I bought a semester trolley pass in a blind rage after class. Public transportation? Yikes. It’s gonna be one long semester.
This is MY LIFE for the next sixteen weeks (there are few things I enjoy more than organizing my Google calendar—Yes, I’m a total nerd). If you’re lucky, I’ll pencil you in somewhere between my classes, internship, regular job, possible weekend screen printing course and visits to the gym in attempts to be beach-ready for Hawaii in January. My best friend is a personal trainer and I work next door to the gym, so you’d think that I’d take advantage of that instead of taking advantage of my work’s proximity to Panera. Well… You’d think that if you didn’t know me and my love for sandwiches.
Congratulations to my dear friend, Gerald Mamaril, on officially becoming a NAVY SEAL. I’ve never been so proud in my life. Gerald’s been talking about becoming a seal ever since I rocked braces. He’s just one of those people who follows through with everything they say—a quality I’ve always admired, but am clearly lacking myself. It’s obvious by my extended stay at SDSU and Pammie’s ridiculous fifty-pound lead in our race to bring sexy back. I’ve been trying to get my life together, though. I’m taking an unheard of (to me, anyway) eighteen units this semester and keeping both my internship and regular job on top of school. Once this crazy semester is over, I’ll be taking a celebratory vacation in Hawaii with Pammie, Chel and Shi during winter break. And hopefully, I’ll be able to visit G on the east coast sometime before he comes back. There’s just so much I want to do, and I feel like I can do anything now. Trace and I were talking about moving up to LA together once she’s finished with cosmetology school. I’m looking forward to the possibility of living with my best friend (who just happens to be a personal fitness trainer. And a yoga instructor. And a hair stylist. Who cuts my hair for free). We’ll live in WeHo. She’ll do hair and I’ll do art. We’ll eat Pinkberry for breakfast. And maybe for lunch, too, if it’s that kinda day (and it will be). I’m not gonna lie. It’s gonna be fun times. If not LA, I’m open to moving to NYC and working for Connected Ventures. If I landed a job there after college, I would move to New York, no question.
Subtle reminders of my age have been more noticeable lately. I noticed it when I filled out a survey and realized, for the first time, I could no longer check the “18-24″ age box. I noticed it when, on a recent trip to Vegas, the highlight of my weekend was not partying at Tao and being drunk off my ass, but watching a Cirque Du Soleil show completely sober. I noticed it when I was up at two in the morning researching a good primary care provider for my HMO instead of refreshing my Myspace page for new comments. Also, a lot of people I know got married and/or reproduced this year. I guess I’m around that age when things of that nature happen. I just always thought that it would happen to me by the time I hit twenty-five.
The thought of growing up used to terrify me, but now I’m excited about the years ahead. I guess it isn’t so bad when you’ve got Hawaiian vacations and the prospect of life in a new city to look forward to. I feel fortunate to have nothing (and no one) holding me back. Unless one of Gerald’s hot Navy Seal friends wants to hold me back. Because then I’d have to reconsider this whole single life in the city thing.
Whenever I exchange E-mails with Pammie, Chel and Shi (which is frequently–unless my boss is reading this, in which case it’s occasionally and only on nights and weekends), our conversations always revolve around the same topics: bitches, assclowns and our love for frozen yogurt. Chel and Shi have been raving about this place in SD that rivals Pinkberry, so we finally got together on Thursday night and had ourselves some fro-yo (while talking about bitches and assclowns). A great start to a pretty fuckin’ awesome weekend, I must say. We hit up Riley’s for drinks afterwards where Chel’s boyfriend was spinning and met up with some friends I haven’t hung out with in forever. The boys and I caught up over late night munchies at Denny’s and headed back to the valley for a short hookah session at E’s house before passing out at home.
When I woke up the next morning afternoon, I found out that Dino DeMilio was using the illustration I made of him as his default image on his Myspace aaaaand he credited it to mayanrocks.com! A lot of members created dollar graphics in honor of Dino and the Divide Social Club, but I wanted to put my spin on it. I drew his head in Illustrator and morphed it into an Obey homage to The Godfather. Fitting, isn’t it? I thought so. I’m honored that he put it on his Myspace. You won’t have access to their pages since they’re private, so here’s a photo of Dino, Milo and Russ of the DSC. YOWZA.
Julz and Jay’s birthday bash at Heat Supper Club was the highlight of my weekend. I’m usually anti-downtown when it comes to partying. I’d much rather chill at a dive bar than anywhere on Fifth. HOWEVER, all that was forgotten once I was introduced to bottle service. And roped off VIP booths. And microsuede walls. I pretty much had the time of my life that night… and I’ve got 500 pictures to prove it (cut down to a little more than half that after I deleted all the drunken, blurry pictures of nothing). Too bad I’m not in any of them since I was the drunkie snapping away all paparazzi status. I guess you’re just gonna have to take my word for it.
We continued Julz’s birthday celebration at Morena Club on Saturday night. It was pretty low key… Just our group of friends celebrating on familiar territory. Julz threw up, of course, but he surprisingly wasn’t tied up this year! Not yet, anyway (maybe in Vegas this weekend). We ate breakfast at Tyler’s afterwards and went home to rest up for our softball game on Sunday. I wasn’t planning on playing, since I had work later that afternoon, but they needed a catcher. I was wearing a jean skirt and flips flops, so I was the obvious choice. I was just there to get my tan on before work! I told them I didn’t like balls flying at my face, but I ended up playing anyway. I always find myself in Eastlake on days that Chick-Fil-A is closed. It’s probably for the best.
So I can’t wait till this weekend. Having limited time with my friends lately has made me miss them.
…
I’ll probably be bitching about them when I come home from Vegas.
Rocky would be so much happier if you bought him this dog bowldesigned by Milo Ventimiglia. It’s for a good cause… Wouldn’t you love to help provide for the well-being of animals in Southern California? Or maybe just Rocky’s well-being? I mean, look at him. Could he be any more dramatic in this picture? Anyway, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to blog, let alone have a decent night out with my friends. I’ve been looking forward to this Vegas trip for months now. I’ve been excited about partying at Tao. I’ve been excited about singing along with the Beatles at LOVE (a Cirque du Soleil show). I’ve been excited about getting out of SD for a few days… but now that it’s just weeks away, I’m dreading the forecasted 110° weather… I’m dreading sharing a room with twenty people… and I’m especially bummed that I’ll be going to Vegas the weekend of Comic Con since Milo Ventimiglia is going to be there this year with the cast of Heroes (again), and I’m going to miss it (again).
BUT… I’ve still got my hopes up for an awesome weekend. Everything just seems to be falling into place for me. Don’t you love when that happens? I’ve been so worried lately. I had all this anxiety about my new job. I didn’t get my grant for school. I got a $400 traffic ticket. I’ve been barely getting by since I left my job at the bank to do a meagerly paid graphic design internship at SDSU last semester… and now everything is just working itself out. My new job at AAA pays well, offers benefits and works around my internship and school schedule… and they gave me the weekend off for Vegas. My traffic ticket was dismissed after I contested it in court. I’m no longer swimming in a sea of debt now that I’ve had extra money to pay off my credit cards. Sure, I work two jobs that hardly allow any time for me to do much else… and sure, I have to take calls sometimes from pervs who need a tow home from Spearmint Rhino. Whatever. I’m happier than I’ve been in a while. With all this good fortune, I half expect a Pinkberry to pop up in the valley.
So you’re shopping on Melrose and you only have, oh, let’s say, $5.96. (I’m just throwing a number out there.) You can either try and find something affordably vintage at Wasteland or buy a cup of deliciousness at Pinkberry instead! It’s only the greatest frozen treat you’ll ever taste in your life. Every reason I could think of why I’d never want to live in LA was forgotten once Pinkberry hit my lips. Why am I so butt-crazy about Pinkberry, you ask?
Being NONFAT and just twenty-five calories per ounce made me feel less guilty about those chicken and waffles I later ate at Roscoe’s. And the ham and cheese croissant I had for breakfast at Southcoast. And the chicken sandwich I had for lunch at Auntie Em’s. With avocado. And bacon. And Shi’s bacon because she doesn’t eat bacon (I don’t understand it, but I won’t judge her). And fine, the two cupcakes I also devoured from Auntie Em’s. Get off me.
Awesome toppings like Cap’n Crunch, fresh fruit (mangoes!), MOCHI (Japanese rice cakes), Fruity Pebbles, chocolate chips…
It’s the only place I know that offers green tea froyo.
Pinkberry is tart like sherbet. There’s supposedly a lawsuit involving Pinkberry’s owner and the FDA because she won’t disclose what’s in it. I personally think it’s made of happiness and crack.
Tigra from L’Trimm sings the Pinkberry jingle (Cars That Go Boom, anyone?).
I could go on and on about my love for Pinkberry, but instead I’ll tell you about my awesome weekend in LA. I had work till eleven o’clock at night all last week, and looking forward to this weekend was the only thing keeping me sane. I drove up after work on Friday and crashed at Pammie’s in the OC. Shi and Chel were fading in and out of sleep by the time I got there at one, but Channing Tatum kept me awake till four in the morning watching She’s the Man. Damn, he’s fly! The four of us hit up the H&M in Southcoast first and we ended up running into people we knew from SD. It’s weird when you see people you know from home in a completely different city. Especially people you aren’t very fond of. ANYWAY. We had lunch at Auntie Em’s Kitchen in Eagle Rock afterwards. Their cupcakes were featured on Bobby Flay’s Throwdown and Pammie’s been raving about them ever since. We didn’t get to try their famous red velvet cupcakes, because the biatch in front of us snagged the last two. Oh, well. She was really skinny and needed the cupcakes more than we did. They had really good food there otherwise, and we got to try the chocolate and carrot cake cupcakes (our favorite!).
Afterwards, we hit up Gallery 1998 on Melrose to check out Kurt Halsey’s exhibit. It was beautifully intimate! It closes tomorrow, so stop by if you’re near the area. We were browsing through the shops on Melrose when we saw this crazy line at the Pinkberry across the street. We decided to try it, and I’ve been a changed woman ever since. After my first bite, I was like Hmm. This is pretty good. Then I bit into some Cap’n Crunch and was like Oh my, this is ridiculous! When it was over (and it was over fast), I was like Did I really just eat this entire thing? I almost ate the cup. It was that good. Don’t take my word for it, though. Go get some and call me while you’re eating it. Because I love Pinkberry so much that the mere thought of listening to you eat Pinkberry excites me—Yes, it has been entirely too long since I’ve had a man in my life. Anyway, we continued shopping on Melrose and everyone found cute stuff except for me. I was thisclose to buying this gorgeous mustard bag from some random boutique, but thought that I really shouldn’t be spending $50 on a bag when I’m trying to save for me and Dy’s apartment. The only thing I bought that day were shoes from H&M with a curious semen-like stain on them. Ugh. Shi graciously treated us out to dinner at Roscoe’s House of Chicken & Waffles. We somehow rolled ourselves back to Pammie’s apartment close to midnight and Chel and Shi drove back home to SD.
On Sunday, Pammie and I slept in and ate a late lunch at Sonic Burger—Yet another food chain I wish they had in SD. I don’t know why they tease us with Sonic commercials on TV when they only have one location in the OC for everyone in southern California to eat at. There’s upwards of ten Sonic Burgers up north in Bakersfield. There is nothing to do in Bakersfield. I’m sure that all anyone does there is eat at one of the many Sonic Burgers they have to choose from. And that would be perfectly fine by me. We hit up the Beverly Center where we weathered the most annoying elevators I have ever been on and returned my only purchase from the day before. The aforementioned semen-like stain repelled the soap and water I used to try and lift the stain the night before. It was like that one time I was ten and spilled nacho cheese on my shirt while watching Three Ninjas at the movies. Fearing my mom would yell at me, I went to the bathroom and tried to wash the stain out, but the nacho cheese spread into this huge orange mess, so I turned my shirt inside out thinking no one would notice… even though the stain was equally visible on the inside of my shirt. At least H&M let me return the shoes. We ate a vegetarian dinner at M Café de Chaya with my cousin and her friend who both live in LA. It was the only healthy thing I ate all weekend. The best part, though, was that M Café was right next door to Pinkberry on Melrose. I had me some more Pinkberry goodness (with MOCHI topping this time… FYI: You have to ask for it because it’s not on the menu). By the time we had gotten back to our cars, both my cousin and I had received parking tickets for having our cars parked on the street after six. Where the fuck did it say that? I looked around and found a very confusing parking sign, and clearly, it wasn’t confusing to just me because every car parked on that street had a parking ticket. Apparently, these confusing parking signs are rampant in LA. Bah.
After dinner, we headed out to the Hollywood Bowl nearby to see John Mayer. It was our first time at that venue, so we weren’t sure where it was exactly. We just parked at the first paid parking lot we saw on Hollywood and Highland and ended up trekking almost a mile up to the show. I’m sure I burned the calories from at least that second Pinkberry I had that day. The Hollywood bowl was GIGANTIC and crowded and pretty awesome. We don’t even have a venue in SD that compares to this in size. Ben Folds was the opener and he was alright, but he didn’t sing The Luckiest which is pretty much the only song I know and like from him. John Mayer was really, really good. I’ve seen him one time before in SD and this show was so much better! This was an add-on show, and he had played the Bowl the night before, so he didn’t sing some of the songs we hoped he would (Comfortable, Stop This Train, In Repair), but he did sing some of my old favorites. He seems like a very grateful, charming guy who knows how to entertain. There are few things I dislike more than going to a show and being bored. Jack Johnson hardly uttered a word in between songs when we saw him last, but that didn’t stop Edgar from being the happiest person on earth! Ha, ha. Engaging the audience in between songs makes for a better show, in my opinion. John Mayer really delivered. By far, the highlight of my night was when he opened one of my favorite songs, 3×5, with Springsteen’s I’m On Fire:
I’m unbelievably starstruck, so it’s probably a good thing I don’t live in LA. Although San Diego does have its share of homegrown celebrities (Um, hi? AC Slater?). We ran into Schuyler Fisk and Joshua Radin on our way to our seats, and I just about died. Pammie was like, “Wait, who are they?” You’re probably thinking the same thing. I saw Joshua Radin a couple years back on the Hotel Cafe tour and Schuyler Fisk is his ladyfriend (also a singer/actress). It’s a good thing Paris Hilton’s in jail. My stomach would’ve fallen out of my butt if I ran into her at Pinkberry.
Before I dropped off Pammie in the OC after the show, we stopped by Diddy Riese in Westwood for cookies (as if I didn’t eat enough unhealthy food that weekend). As I drove home from LA, I sighed at each and every Pinkberry-less mile.
I started this blog over the weekend bitching about the third parking ticket I received this year alone in the OC last week (the second in SD and the first in LA—it’s like I’m trying to be ticketed in every city). Now that San Diego’s going down in flames, it all seems so trivial. I can see one of the five fires burning around SD from my own backyard in the Valley. Besides having class canceled during the 
Attention, unmarried people of America: You can splurge on a fancy new wrist watch without having to explain yourself. You can stay out till 3 a.m. without having to phone home. You can leave the toilet seat up. In fact, there are many, many ways that single life rocks, though you may forget that fact when your relatives are grilling you about settling down. Not only do you have the freedom to do anything you want—it’s also the best time in history to be flying solo. Want more specifics on why you should celebrate being single?
Rocky would be so much happier if you bought him this 
So you’re shopping on Melrose and you only have, oh, let’s say, $5.96. (I’m just throwing a number out there.) You can either try and find something affordably vintage at Wasteland or buy a cup of deliciousness at 
I could go on and on about my love for Pinkberry, but instead I’ll tell you about my awesome weekend in LA. I had work till eleven o’clock at night all last week, and looking forward to this weekend was the only thing keeping me sane. I drove up after work on Friday and crashed at Pammie’s in the OC. Shi and Chel were fading in and out of sleep by the time I got there at one, but Channing Tatum kept me awake till four in the morning watching She’s the Man. Damn, he’s fly! The four of us hit up the H&M in Southcoast first and we ended up running into people we knew from SD. It’s weird when you see people you know from home in a completely different city. Especially people you aren’t very fond of. ANYWAY. We had lunch at Auntie Em’s Kitchen in Eagle Rock afterwards. Their cupcakes were featured on Bobby Flay’s Throwdown and Pammie’s been raving about them ever since. We didn’t get to try their famous red velvet cupcakes, because the biatch in front of us snagged the last two. Oh, well. She was really skinny and needed the cupcakes more than we did. They had really good food there otherwise, and we got to try the chocolate and carrot cake cupcakes (our favorite!).
Afterwards, we hit up 
On Sunday, Pammie and I slept in and ate a late lunch at Sonic Burger—Yet another food chain I wish they had in SD. I don’t know why they tease us with Sonic commercials on TV when they only have one location in the OC for everyone in southern California to eat at. There’s upwards of ten Sonic Burgers up north in Bakersfield. There is nothing to do in Bakersfield. I’m sure that all anyone does there is eat at one of the many Sonic Burgers they have to choose from. And that would be perfectly fine by me. We hit up the Beverly Center where we weathered the most annoying elevators I have ever been on and returned my only purchase from the day before. The aforementioned semen-like stain repelled the soap and water I used to try and lift the stain the night before. It was like that one time I was ten and spilled nacho cheese on my shirt while watching Three Ninjas at the movies. Fearing my mom would yell at me, I went to the bathroom and tried to wash the stain out, but the nacho cheese spread into this huge orange mess, so I turned my shirt inside out thinking no one would notice… even though the stain was equally visible on the inside of my shirt. At least H&M let me return the shoes. We ate a vegetarian dinner at M Café de Chaya with my cousin and her friend who both live in LA. It was the only healthy thing I ate all weekend. The best part, though, was that M Café was right next door to Pinkberry on Melrose. I had me some more Pinkberry goodness (with MOCHI topping this time… FYI: You have to ask for it because it’s not on the menu). By the time we had gotten back to our cars, both my cousin and I had received parking tickets for having our cars parked on the street after six. Where the fuck did it say that? I looked around and found a very confusing parking sign, and clearly, it wasn’t confusing to just me because every car parked on that street had a parking ticket. Apparently, these
