Witty Indulgence

That Little Cheese Tour

2011-03-29T21:31:00.001-07:00

Some of you may be aware that last year I embarked on a unique, cheese-filled tour throughout eight states and over 110 cities. Well, a few months being out on the road and I was approached to do a little tour blogging. If you are just dying to read my awesome take on the tour, follow the following links:

Loaf Love Tour Stories: Goodbye California!

Loaf Love Tour Stores: Washington

Loaf Love Tour Stories: Cheese & Potatoes in Idaho

Loaf Love Tour Stories: Peaches & Cheese in Utah

Loaf Love Tour Stories: Rad Coloradans & Amiable Arkansans

Loaf Love Tour Stories: Wrapping up the Tour in Texas

Colombia Part 10: Fun with Stereotypes

2011-03-29T16:54:00.000-07:00

Whether we like to admit it or not, we all have our stereotypes right? In this trip, I have had the pleasure of conversing with people from all over the world and the topic of other people and cultures always comes up. Funny thing is, whether from France, Germany, Ireland, the USA, Colombia or wherever, we all tend to give the same stereotypes of our fellow friends around the world. I couldn't help but start to take some notes. However, before I begin....

**Disclaimer** For those who offend easily, or in my opinion take life too seriously, the following may piss you off.

• Germans are way too serious. It also must be noted that some of the men travelors where their pants a little too tight and a little to highwatered. Anyone ever hear the term mooseknuckle?
• Irish are all friggin nutso. Although, if you want to drink heavily, use an obsene amount of foul language and perhaps pass out in your own vomit, please endulge.
• Japanese are just plain smart. Yes, the image still stands that the Japanese are brilliant thinkers and make the best electronics. Lucky bastards.
• Mexicans are the crazies of the Americas. Put in your mind the image of a Mexican on a horse wearing a large sombrero with a knife in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other, gallavanting through the streets yelling, ''Ay ay ay, arriba, arriba!!'' No joke, people think this.
• Canadians are lame. Sorry, my dear friends to the north but the word on the street is that ya'll just don't do much, and beyond the cities Quebec and Toronto, people just don't think you really exist.
• Argentinians are the Europeans of South America and act as such. This means they think they are at the top of the food chain and come with a snobery as such. Although they do make killer wines.
• United States. My fellow North Americans, how you be? Oh, you be acting like you the shiz. That's right, people think we act as though we can do no wrong and rule the world. Oh, I said it. We are also too loud and too obnoxious. I kinda agree. •French smell.
• Australians. Oh you clever folk from down under. What is said of you? Well, the females are kinda slutty, okay maybe the men too. But hey, just having a good time traveling right?

Only a little taste into the minds of many here but thought it funny. Needless to say, I still love them all and have many a friend among these groups.

Latinos: Top 10 Reasons I Love Them

2011-03-29T16:51:00.000-07:00

I was the thinking the other day while I lay swinging in a hammock among singing birds, butterflies all about, lush green mountain views, the sound of music floating in the air from all directions...okay, you get the picture. Anyways, I was thinking, why do I seem to favor those hot-blooded Latino men? So, I came up with my top 10 reasons.

In no particular order of course:

1. They have incredible rythym. I'll stop with they are excellent on the dance floor and let your minds wonder a bit with the rest.
2. Sentimientos. Feelings. Oh, how open they are with their feelings. No topic goes untouched, unheard or is off limits. Me encanta.
3. They like to laugh. Muahaha all the time. Either everything south of the border is friggin hilarious or they just have good senses of humor. I don't know.
4. Aprovechan. Perhaps this ties into laughing a little but I needed another number. Go ahead, have a good time, we are Latino, why not?
5. I've always liked a little panela in my life. Gringo translation: A little brown sugar never hurt nobody!
6. Bottom line: they listen to their women. Okay, maybe not, but they sure as hell pretend well!
7. Alejandro Sanz, Enrique Iglesias, Mario Lopez, Alex Rodriguez, Cristiano Ronaldo, Javier Bardem,Chayanne, Ricky Martin (make fun if you want, but he is hot!), Gael Garcia Bernal, Mark Consuelos (damn you Kelly Ripa), Juanes...I think you get the picture.
8. La música. All day, every day. You may be thinking, um yeah, how special is this? Let me tell you. There is something alluring about guy not afraid to sing, dance and feel the music anywhere. Any place can be transformed into a dance floor.
9. Sus ojos. Just take a minute to look into their eyes. That's all.
10. Because even if it's for 1 night, 1 hour or 1 minute, they can make you feel like you are the only lady in the room. Awww :)

Colombia Part 9: Never too old to explore

2011-03-29T16:46:00.000-07:00

I have once again ventured off and away to a small pueblo where the only thing here are the basic necessities. You know, one computer with internet, a number of cows, loud chickens, rice, beans, fruit and of course the obligatory soccer field.

A number of people commented about Tierradentro being nothing more than a place with holes in the ground (tombs), but I am finding it to be so much more. After bidding farewell to Katie I hopped the bus for another bumpy ride up and over to this very small town. Of course, my luck, I arrived with vomit all over my bag thanks to a small little boy who couldn´t handle the fun ride. I met up with my friend Hector at an adorable family owned hostel where we bunkered down among birds, iguanas, chickens and roosters alike.

Thinking it a good idea to test the limits of my physical capabilities, we decided to hike up about 1800 t to the peaks of Al Aguacate (elevation about 6200 ft) and explore the first of many tombs. It´s a sight to see for sure! Not only were we up among the clouds but walking across a mountain ridge full of underground tombs that date back to thousands of years before Christ. You would think that climbing into hole after whole would be boring, but I tell ya, it was amazing to sit down in there, shining your light on ancient paintings and only imaging what people´s bones occupied this space so many years ago. Call me a creeper, but I think it´s kinda neat.

After about 16 miles we ended our adventure. I never thought the classic Colombian meal of lentils, rice, fried plantain, meat and cucumber-onion salad would be so amazing after our long trek but I could have killed the damn vaca (cow) myself! Did I mention we drank 3 different types of fresh juice in one day? Um yeah, after papaya with orange, rasberry and lulo I was rather regular if ya know what I mean.

Today we ventured into the small town of Inza, which besides the quiet minutes we spent in the church, really there is nothing much to see here. So after some silent praying, which I didn´t realize until after that I did it in Spanish, Hector and I began to talk. Now, one would think sitting in a cathedral surrounded by figures of Jesus, Mary and numerous saints we would be inspired to talk of spirituality, religion and such right? No people, we began to talk about Clint Eastwood as a fine director. Hey, to each their own right?

Tomorrow we are off to find a small pyramid that we forget to get off the bus and see today. Oh, yeah, forgot because we had to take the schoolbus back into town and it was packed full of kids from age 4 to 16. Talk about bringing me back. Well, except for my busses were orderly and this was, well, fun! Music, joking, teasing, running about the bus, singing, laughing.... Although, school is a fairly new thing in this pueblo. Not too many years ago these children would be working the farms, not studying math and experimenting with the latest nail polish color.

Venturing north towards Bogota soon!

Colombia Part 8: I am in Love

2011-03-29T16:41:00.000-07:00

So, how many of you thought that subject line referred to a male? Oh, how I love to tease. Of course I am referring to this incredible country of Colombia that gets better with every bumpy bus ride, meat and beans lunch, horse ride and of course the daily interactions with everyone I have the experience of meeting. I can't say enough....but I will say more anyways!

With our travels taking us from city to country often, we left the quant, white-washed walls of Popayan for one of Colombia's adventure capitols of San Agustin. Since we tend to be social gals, we picked a few friends up along the way and thus entered our Peruvian amigo Hector and our Israeli friend Matan.

Based on a recommendation we arrived at our eco-refuge hostel at the top of the hill, Casa del Sol. The grounds are amazing and while we have to carry our own trash down to town and compost everything we dont eat, the views and the beauty are worth the "hassle." Again, I find myself trying new things on this trip, so welcoming the much needed rain here in front of a fire pit, dancing, singing and drinking aguardiente seems rather normal you think? My fellow Oregonians may find this crazy to dance for rain, but they have been dry in this part of Colombia and need rain to replenish their many varieties of plant life.

It's amazing the views I continue to see each day! I honestly have moments where I smile to myself and think, chica you are one lucky lady! I only wish I could package up a piece of Colombia and send it to each and every one of you. I have spoken often of the incredible people here and their passion of renewing their country after years of conflict, but it's hard not to mention it again. I am inspired daily here with the kindness, generosity and fabulous attitudes the Colombians have.

Someone told me the other day that to enjoy life with music, friends and family is so important in life, even when you are faced with death, loss of money, loss of pride and such, you must take time to enjoy yourself. I find this simple, yet powerful. How often in the USA, we fight depression, we complain of our circumstance, we hide away and get angry with what life is throwing our way and stop the fun. Why? I do not know, but I can only imagine what it would be like if we lost our jobs and decided, what the hell? Let's throw a party!

I could continue on for hours discussing my changed attitude, but I need to log-off and go enjoy this good energy, because today, my horse was a bitch and it turned my mood. I know, what a complaint eh?

Colombia Part 7: Mountains to the Ocean and Back

2011-03-29T16:31:00.000-07:00

So much seems to have happened since my last e-mail! Earthquakes, mice, face swelling...Let me just tell you all about it.

Backing up a few days, we left the beauty of Solento to experience the salsa dancing capitol of the world, Cali. I have to be honest here, Cali has little to offer during the daytime hours - it's muggy, kinda dirty, and reminiscent of most large scale urban sprawl cities I have had the pleasure to experience in my life. However, nightfall creates a vibrant scene of salsa dancing that wouldn't have Baby sitting in a corner if you know what I mean. If you don't know what I mean, get up on your pop culture people and rent Dirty Dancing.

A couple days of a hot city and we popped off to see a small village by the name of San Cipriano. Now the people of this little place are ingenious because there is only one way in an out of this crazy place, and that's by railway. You may be wondering how that is ingenious since we have been using rail for years right? Well, there is no train. These dark chocolate colored people (oh, I said that) have rigged up motorcyles to plank boards and toat you throught the jungle down the tracks at amazing speeds. An experience for sure.

Safe and sound, and for sure the only gringos in the town of just 700, we settled into our little hotel (El David) for some good R&R, hahaha. Soooo....first night I wake up to a rustling sound, turn on my flashlight and discover I have a little mouse friend in my room - yay! After befriending a cat, waking up Katie and trying to convince two little Colombian girls to check my room for said mouse, I just go back to bed.
The reaction of the hotel guy was the best, he thought me crazy to care about a harmless mouse and explained it like this, "it's just like Mickey!" I should have told him I am more the Donald Duck type.

Night two arrives after lazy swims in waterfalls and long UNO competitions with local kids who just love Katie and I for some reason. I just close my book an drift into sleep when all of a sudden the earth starts moving. Am I in L.A?! Nope, but yes, it's a rather nice sized earthquake we are having. Local reaction the next day with breakfast lady? "No big deal, everyone is fine, it happens. Did you want milk in your coffee?" and conversation done. Great attitude! However, my North American self was kinda hoping for Newschannel 8 to cover the story endlessly for weeks. No such luck.

After a few days of mice, an earthquake and my repeatedly telling people I don't have nor want a boyfriend, we take the track out of town and head towards the grand ol' Pacific Ocean. However, we have no info on where to go or stay because tourism is still nothing much in this area. I find that just following the flow and listening to locals advice works well so that's how we end up in Juanchoco. Still not sure if this is an island or a jetty as it doesn't appear on my map, we took an hour boatride to our little oasis for a few days.

We splurged on a two night ''all-inclusive'' (soooo not Sandals) hotel with ocean views, a pool, air-conditioning and a T.V. (Ahhh!) so we could relax in comfort a few days, and that's what we did. Nothing. Pure relaxation while I waited for the swelling in my face to ease; thanks to some lovely mosquitos that feasted on my eyelides, nose, forehead and cheek all night. I mean, thanks mosquitoes, my goal was to look like I had elephantitis while at the beach.

Thankfully by the time night fell on our final day I was back to normal, whatever that is. Back to reality of sorts, we made it to Popayan! Looking forward to exploring this Spanish Colonial city, taking in some nightlife, doing some bike rides, maybe mount another horse and perhaps enjoy a volcano or two before trudging forward in our little adventure. Colombia, you just get better and better.

Colombia Part 5: Smells of Cow

2011-03-29T15:47:00.000-07:00

Let me start by saying that I spent a good hour in a cow pasture today, just chillin. After the city life in Medellin, we moved further south to check out the good life and apparantly relacing on lush green pastures is one of the things you do. We spent 2 nights in the mountainous city of Manizales (pop 300,000), just enough time to take a voyage to the 5th tallest volcano in the Colombian Andes, El Nevado del Ruiz. We made our way up to just shy of 5000 meters (roughly 15k feet for you Yankees lol) with stops along the way to learn about the land, the plants and the history of this glacier.

I am so taken by this country. For those of you who think Colombia is all about cocaine and the FARC, you are so wrong. As we delve deeper into the country we are seeing beautiful, lush lands filled to the brim with cows and horses, nature reserves, crystal clear rivers, snow-capped mountains and muchas Palmas de Cera (the national tree of Colombia at 60 meters high). The people here love their land and take care of it, it's a treasure they grew up respectimg and now...low and behold here people....have found a way to utilize the idea of sustainable growth that benefits their pocketbooks and the environment. What a concept! Stepping down from my soapbox now...and...okay down.

So Katie and I decided that la vida buena (the good life) was going to be in a town of just 7,000 further south down the Gringo Trail - welcome to Salento! A quant, colorful little city set among the hills and further surrounding mountains. It looks like a scene from a Hollywood movie; men and women saunter about in Colombian cowboy hats, jeans, boots and panchos while tourists and locals alike hang out of their bright balconies onto the plaza, enjoying the fresh air both day and night. Horses share the streets with pedestrians, few cars and lots of motobikes.

Our hostel (Estrellas sin Fronteras) is like a cleaner version of camping. You open the window from our room and you view the horse stables, upon approach you walk down a good 20 stairs made of old tires past chickens and cows, but the water is hot (yay!) and the kitchen has gas, works for me. We feel quite at home already and spent the day trekking all the way to the neighboring town of Cocora, where we hit some trails, bought some goods, layed in the cow pasture and enjoyed the over-the-top views that had you wanted to run through the hills like a scene from The Sound of Music. I didn't FYI, I can't get too dorky too often :)

That said, we will probably be here a bit longer. Tomorrow we are taking a good saunter over to a small coffee farm to get some samples and see how they do it here. I am in coffee heaven right now - missing Starbucks is so not an option here. Sorry Darla!

Colombia Part 4: Medellin...Medellin...Oh Medellin

2011-03-29T15:41:00.000-07:00

Wow. Medellin. A beautiful city in so many ways. I am amazed each time we leave our hostel at how gorgeous this city can be when just less than 10 years ago the street were filled with death and the fiasco that was Pablo Escobar. I am enjoying talking to locals about the progress and were they see taking this city into the future.

The streets are clean because they have started recycle programs, put trash cans on every corner and created jobs in the garbage industry to have more boots on the ground so to speak. They are the first and only Colombian city to have a Metro line that takes you across town and out to certain barrios (neighborhoods). They have enforced street parking, people follow traffic signals and walk signs - I even saw bike lanes during one of our long walks. Amazing.

It really shows the resolve of these great people here; to be able to transform their government, eliminate loads of poverty (still lots, don't get me wrong) and clean up a city in virtual ruins is inspiring. Power to the people :) We found a great hostel in a middle class neighborhood full of tiendas, cafes, small business, hostels and a hop, skip and a stumble to the bar strip where the blend of various music types blends into the air.

I am so enjoying the views of tall, green, lush mountains (most full of beautiful cattle farms), brink buildings winding up the hillsides, colorful graffiti on the walls and art, art, art... For an even better view today we took to the skies in a paragliding little adventure. After heaving myself out of a plane this past year at 15,000 feet, running and jumping off the side of a hill was a walk in the park. While not the same thrill, natural high and pure rush I got from skydiving, the views were incredible and it was a highly relaxing ride. It's always nice to be up with the birds, although it has me craving more action.

Tomorrow we plan on exploring more of this grand city of nearly 2.3 million to see the botanical gardens, university districts and some great statues, murals and colorful parks Medellin has for us. While I think I could buy flat here and call it a day...the adventure must continue, so stayed tuned because I think it's gonna get even better!

Colombia Part 3: Geeks and such

2011-03-29T15:37:00.000-07:00

What to share...what to share... Well, we arrived in Cartagena, got our accomodations settled and headed out for Indian food, because we like to live on the edge. We were the first into the restaurant located on a narrow, crowded street in the Cartagena hood of Getsemani, however our gringa scents must have attracted all the whities because it was soon crowded with many others. Wiffs of shit flowing in made the experience that much better. Mmmm....

En route to Cartagena from Santa Marta I gave my Facebook info to a 12 year old Cost Rican boy. Looking forward to seeing how that goes. Perhaps I can adopt hahaha

Pissed off the cab driving upon arriving something fierce. He really seemed put off by my insisting on the ride being 3 thousand pesos less than his origional price offered. Um, he didn't have to let us into his crap cab ya know! Funny though, I laughed when I told him the exact street and he gave me a sideways staredown for a good 10 seconds. What a turd.

Staying at the Hotel Holiday where I have been before and sharing a room with Katie and a lady from Australia named Mandi. She cracks us up with her wild stories and Aussie lingo. She looks like the typical seasoned travelor with her short gray hair, flowing dress over pants and assortments of great ethnic jewelry.

By the way, in case you didn't all know, it is totally socially acceptable as a travelor to rock the loungpaints and jogging shorts with your flip flops and fanny packs. You can in fact maintain your sexiness. It's true, I have found many a hot guy to be wearing this dork outfit and yet it doesn't phase me. In the U.S this nerd wouldn't get the time of day of course, but the foreign accents pops them from a 3 to a solid 7 on the scale, if you know what I mean - and I bet you do!

Off to soak in mudbaths of a volcano tomorrow before taking the night bus to Medellin - cannot wait to see the former drug capitol-turned artsy city! You will here more about this I guarantee.

Colombia Part 2: Lazy Tagangan Days

2011-03-29T15:29:00.000-07:00

Life here on the Caribbean Coast is simply amazing, 'simply' being the operative word here. There's no rushing, people saunter about happy to be away from the hustle and bustle of big city life - or they are all stoned - but either way, it's amazingly relaxing. No pressure, no schedule, no time.

In fact, the other night a bunch of us were hanging out in the communal rooftop bar/lounge area here at the Oso Perezoso, playing games, listening to music, talking, drinking....you know...when Katie and I were asked if we were going out with them to the disco down the street. First thing I did, the damn American I am, was to look at my watch. 1am. Katie and I exchange glances like, well, it is late perhaps we should go to bed....when the token Aussie of the group (a commonplace thing in travel to have) asks us, "Why not? You have big plans tomorrow or something?" Hmmm....do I?

I laugh and say, "I have to go to the ATM...." While a trek to the ATM does mean a bus ride to the next town over and the often unneeded worry of getting robbed because you just pulled out a wad of cash equal to a months pay or more for some locals, it's not an excuse to not go dance to local beats while on holiday. We all got a kick out of this for some nerdy reason because all of us starting laughing about what a lame excuse that is. I mean, back home if a friend invited me out I would say, "Sounds like fun, but I have to go to the ATM today." However, with travel in off the beaten path locations this can be a bit of an adventure. Anyways, this was just a good reminder to let go, relax, go with the flow [man] and just enjoy this. Oh, we did go out by the way and danced our asses off until about three in the morning, in case you were wondering.

So while some of you might think it sounds like we are doing a whole lot of nothing here in Taganga, let me ensure you that we are. That's what people come here to do! Museums? Nah, I'll wait until the city for historical learning. Do my hair? Be productive in some way? Why?! It's the beach people. Hikes to seasonal waterfalls, lazy strolls along the beach walk, people watching (which is awesome here what with the mix of city vacationers, Argentinian clowns, local fisherman, daytime drunk gringos and street dogs) and reading a book in the hammock is productive enough for me right now. It's no wonder people come here to visit, come back often or just never leave.

This is all about to semi-end as we leave for Cartagena on Wednesday to explore one of the most beautiful big Caribbean cities I have ever scene. I cannot wait for Katie to fall in love with it as I did before. Until then, we will enjoy the lazy days of nothing but good conversation and meeting new friends.

Colombia Part 1: The Arrival

2011-03-29T15:19:00.000-07:00

We arrived after a loooong flight into Cartagena around 2:35pm, walked a block to hop a van to Barranquilla, which of course meant total confusion on price and destination. Why? I don't know, it's just always that way here. Commence the crazy, death defying, go-kart race of a van ride. Here, tailgaiting, break slamming and illegal passing that misses creating human road kill is the norm. Also a bit fun....in a sick way.

Van 2 proves better, as in plush seats and warm darkness that provokes sleep. So sleep I did, and not just due to exhaustion bit because I had to pee, bad. Sleep just helped me forget that fact. Taxi ride after van took us up the hill and over to Taganga. Greeted by cool winds we finally had arrived at our first destination.

After quick hellos to Brit and Nathan we trudged down to the main strip along the Caribbean Sea for some eats. Settled on my fav pizza lady. Pizza? In Colombia? Oh yes, all handmade freshness that makes your tastebuds go crazy. Since this isn't a food review I'll stop there.

Tired and kinda grimmy from a near 24 hour travel we crawled into bed - I called the top bunk - and slept a solid 9 hours. Well, the 6am sunrise and massive amount of birds did have us briefly up, but nonetheless we slept great. Breakfast of fresh fruit, granola, juice and Colombian coffee provided fuel for our little hike to see a great view of Playa Grande, Fisherman's Beach and the Tagangan Bay before we took a nice dip in the sea, stared at bare-assed Colombian women in bikinis and Colombian families taking in the sun on their January breaks at the beach.

Lunch of homemade soup filled with delicious local veggies and chicken and then a little siesta. Sundown shopping trip for necessities: Coke, lime, rum and arrepas. Oh - we also indulged in a deep fried egg covered in deep fried breading, followed by deep fried potato with, oh yes, hot dog and hard boiled egg. Won't be repeating that one!

We will be hanging here in Taganga enjoying the relaxed pace of life before jetting off to Cartagena and then....you'll have to wait and see!! Okay, off to enjoy the Tagangan night with friends - new and old!

A little tune

2010-07-14T21:54:00.000-07:00

I am having a definite wine and writing night. On top of that I am listening to the most mellow music to go with my mood: Frank Sinatra, Pink Floyd, Fiona Apple and John Mayer are at the top of my list. Another glass of wine and I may just throw in some Juanes - he sings some great hate songs.

I don't know what I would do without music. They say the eyes are the windows to your soul, so they may be, but I think the music you choose says a lot about where your soul is as well. The right song in the morning can set me on the path to a very good day, full of positivity and light. On the other hand, there are those days were all I crave is a good blues riff with some pain and angst to sooth me and make me feel as though I am not alone. Angry? Oh yes, I have songs for this too. Although my musical selection will of course depend on the type of anger I am feeling - or better yet at who my anger is being directed. Sometimes it's a general 'I am mad song' like Nine Inch Nails, Metallica or the like. Other times I grab right for what I describe as my 'sad-ish mad' music like The Cranberries or Joss Stone.

Anyways, so why the music talk tonight with the need for a glass of smooth red wine and a keyboard? I feel alone. I feel left out. I know the source, which does me little good right now, but there is nothing I can do about it at this point. Be angry? What's the point? Get even? Why bother? Instead I choose music and lots of it. Not going to lie either, there may be some dance involved later. Nothing all hip hop like though, that may be odd all alone in my room. Then again, why the hell not?

The rubdown

2010-07-13T22:20:00.000-07:00

I am not totally sure but I may have just received an odd, yet good, massage from a questionable location. Questionable in that they may perform more than massages.

Beyond the new experience of having someone walk on my entire body and massage me with their toes, I had a few moments during the 60 minute ordeal that had me questioning the place I had chosen. For instance, I got all the way down into my skivies (as one getting a massage would do) but felt a wee bit odd when the masseuse pulled my thong down to where it rested on my cheeks halfway off. Perhaps I should have left but I stayed because she was doing a good job at working out all the kinks okay? Maybe I also should have left when she massaged my inner thigh just a little too close to my vagina. Serious.

Nah, I stayed. I stayed for the stomach massage that I didn't know was to happen. Yes, she rubbed my chubby belly. Back and forth, in circles, and all around as she needed my skin like pizza dough. Then she slapped me. Well, slapped my stomach multiple times. At this point I was like, you know, this is odd. Maybe I also though it odd that the only voices I heard coming from the hallway and other rooms were the voices of men. Men and little girlie giggles. I was the only female besides the workers.

Scary thing is? I would go back. Why? She loosened up all my muscles, it was inexpensive and she gave me a chocolate mint candy afterwards.

2 kids, a cat and a dog

2010-07-09T10:46:00.000-07:00

After what I like to call 'Facebook stalking' my friends, their friends and old friends that I forgot I had (okay, sounding like a creeper), I feel like a bit if either a black sheep or a wild child. Depends on how you look at it. You see, while a good 90% of the people I stalked are married with kids, pregnant or showing off pics of their recent wedding albums, I am not. In fact, my posts are so far from that. I am showing off my nice tan in an assortment of travel and party pics and laughing hysterically about the night before while my other dear friends are posting all about how little Joey just took his first poop in the toilet like a big boy or how teenie tiny Tiffany just ate a lemon for the first time and made a silly face (um, duh, it's a frickin lemon).

Don't get me wrong, I am not bitter. I want my life and I am happy they enjoy theirs. I just feel like, wow, I am soooo not there yet. Do I want kids? Sure, maybe someday. Do I want to be married? Heck yes, sounds like a blast. Do I want a house in the burbs? Hell no. Do I want an SVU? Only if it's to load my friends up for a road trip. I guess I just have to come to terms with the fact that I may be a little different than my "typical" friends back home, and that's okay. Just please, please, please my lovely little Susie Homemakers, stop telling me "it must be nice." Cause you know what? It is. Its bloody lovely.

Travel Freaks

2010-06-13T19:29:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I may not be a global traveler on a crazy level, but I have gotten around. To different countries that is. What I have also had the pleasure of observing is that there are a ton of girls that like to get around - with other people that is. Funny thing is lots of people like to stereotype American travelers as those annoying people that speak too loud, are rude, don't even begin to make an attempt to learn about local cultures and then assume that everyone should speak English. Then you have the Wild on E! style Americans that like to flash their boobies at Carnival for beads, jump on top of tables while showing off their g-strings and bumping and grinding to Eminem while letting loose the occasional "Whooooooo!" loudly before laughing hysterically and then possibly contributing to the new trend of girl-on-girl action in a sad attempt to be cool. So why do Americans get pegged as such freaks? Hmm...that's a hard one. However, I say what about the freaky deaky Europeans? Canadians? Aussies? Huh? How do they seem to come off as such travel pros? Dare I even say, refined? I have been observing something for years now ans after my recent trip to Barbados just feel the need to share.

Bottom line: Europeans like to get local ass. Crude? Maybe. True? Yes. Germans, British (especially), Irish (you know it)....they all like to tap into the local pool of men and women. It's so odd. It's like they spend all this time back home, pent up in their cubicles at work, analyzing business trends, commuting on the train in their respected countries only to take holiday to head off and get some uninhibited local action. I find this happens more in the, um, how do I be PC....more dark-skinned areas? It's hilarious to watch these usually proper people (I mean, I am assuming they aren't trashy sluts back home. Especially the British right?) go nuts over some young chocolate stud on the dance floor, grinding on the dance floor and taking shots only to stumble out into the street and head to God knows where to get it on. It always gives me a nice giggle to see them all haggard on the beach the next morning, getting all fried from the sun only to head out on the town in hot pursuit for another night. What's even more funny is that in just a matter of time they will be back in their home country, at their shabby little offices, in their conservative dress answering to "the man" when just not so long ago they were getting smashed and boning everyone across the pond. Ha.

Flight delay

2010-06-12T20:07:00.000-07:00

You know it's amazing the way things are sometimes meant to work out. For instance, I was set to depart on a red-eye flight from San Francisco to Miami as I made my way to Barbados for my vacation. On the plane. Whoops, mechanical problems. All fixed. Set to go. Haha kidding. Still mechanical problems. So at 1:15am we are told to deboard the plane in hopes of hopping on a new one. Oh how they tease. Cancelled. So now I am stuck on a standby ticket on a 6am flight. The only flight that can get me to Barbados that same day. Lovely.

Frustrated I decide to step outside to get some fresh air. After sitting there a number of moments I am informed by a nice lady that I can't get back through security now until 4am. It is only 1:30am. So I settle in for a nice chilly night outside with the smokers, because after all those are basically the only other idiots who chose to exit the secured area. Addicts. Turns out one of them ends up being a pretty cool chica named Kristen. Kristen is a coast guard electrician who basically spends her life travelling about and fixing, well, electrical problems on ships. Makes sense. She is also more than likely into women. Just saying. Anyways, her and I ended up spending the nexgt number of hours shootin the shit and learning all about each other's travels, jobs and all that good stuff that complete strangers feel the need to exchange when they find themselves in the fun situation of being stuck outside the San Francisco airport at 1:30am in the morning.

Time flies, chat, chat, chat and then we finally saunter inside to get in line for security that opens at 4am. Oh ha, now that would be just too easy if that worked out accordingly right? Of course right. Security will now now open until 4:30am. Second in line we begin to do what we do best, which is apparantly talk to more strangers. Enter Heather and Steve.

We start going through all the same ol' intros. Where we are from, where we are going, were you on the cancelled flight too and so on. We get to the part about what we do for a living and whoa is me, these people are in the cheese and seed business here in California. No way. Did they know about Tillamook Cheese? Of course, they eat it. Did they know it was farmer-owned? Um no, bout now they do. Also come to find out they are going to be at the same event as my co-workers this weekend. Oh what a small little world. Just so happy to have found some kindred spirits we all go and grab some early morning grub. That is after we made it through security and everyone had fun pointing and laughing at my as I went through the additional pat down by the TSA. I now know that long skirts/dresses will guarantee you additional screening. Apparantly you can too easily shove some additional whatevas up there.

Heather and Steve are off to catch their flights after card exchanges, handshakes and an open invitation to come and tour their farm when I get back into the area. Oh wait, something possibly even cooler happened before the flight cancellation that I failed to have mentioned. Excited to be heading to Barbados, and honestly wanting to keep my goodbye buzz going, I decided to grab a quick drink at the bar. Little did I know I would be having breakfast at this same place just hours from now. This is where I met my first new friend of the day, Bob, or Robert if you please. After a good 30 minutes of good conversation about our lives, he was on his way to a funeral in Illinois, I spoke about my grandmother just passing and work stuff of course (and yes he likes our cheese). After learing more about my new friend - he's divorced but has a good relationship fir the most part with his ex, his cell broke today but got a new one just in time to head to the airport and stuff like that, he excuses himself to go and catch his flight. Before he departs he gives me his information with a personal invite for me and a friend to come up to Paso Robles where he lives and take an aerial tour of the vinyards. Back up, private plane ride? I ever so casually ask him as I am shaking his hand, "Oh, you have a plane? You fly?" Oh yes, yes, for years now and apparantly I really must come up and check it out.

Needless to say after what nearly caused me an anxiety attack, I am the last person to be allowed on the plane, I am finally off to Miami in hopes to get on my flight to Barbados! Just think, if it weren't for those lame mechanical issues I would have never met these great people. That is what I keep telling myself after loosing an entire day in the Barbadan sun.

Multiple Personalities

2010-04-19T22:35:00.001-07:00

I keep having these battles in my head lately about who I am and should be. Don't worry, I am not feeling all blue and in no way, shape or form am I depressed. Perhaps I am just full of bullshit, have multiple personalities and should just embrace my odd self. Maybe I need to explain this with some more depth, or maybe nobody cares and I should just grab a corner, hug my knees and cry. Oh come on people, that is so Hollywood. In the real world I would go find an empty bar stool at some dark, dingy place where I can make friends with the bartender and the old fart next to me before finding the only half-decent and non-toothless idiot to hang all over until I feel better about myself right? Hmm....maybe that is too real. Anyways....

Each day lately I have all these thoughts roaming in my expansive brain about the future. You see, I am usually a big time planner but am trying to get away from being way too German and OCD. Sooo...this new non-planner me is having a hard time finding focus beyond the day, okay week really. Some mornings I wake up and want to be this aloof, moody, brooding deep thinker who walks about all mysterious-like and makes everyone feel less smart and less cool than me. Then afternoon hits and I am like, really? So not you Rebecca. Next. Enter hippie me. Now this personality takes things as they come, is super happy, not too chatty but definitely social. She also likes to be outdoors, and stare at the sky. Maybe even smell some flowers, pick one for her hair and comment on how the trees are so pretty. Oh yeah, this me is very lovable. Just when I think maybe there is a good mix going on...enter the puta. For whatever reason I cannot seem to get rid of this pesky bitch for the life of me. I don't like her, either does anyone else. Unless of course I happen to drink too much tequila than the puta is funny, oh so very funny. I am working on getting rid of her asap. So not good for the party man. I suppose there is also just the chill me. I like her. I want to mix this attitude with the brainy aloof girl, with the aggressive business woman I can be and the amiable hippie me. I am weird.

Perhaps what I need to do is open up a hotel (all environmentally sustainable of course) on a nice beach where I don't have to wear shoes and allow only moody artists and uptight Wall Street peeps to come hang and take a load off. I don't know. Either that or I can do the complete opposite. Whatever that is. You see my dilemma here? ha

The American Dream

2010-04-18T22:20:00.000-07:00

I saw a glimpse into what my future will not be today. I worked in a certain county in the state of California, that for the pure politeness factor I will not mention by name, that made me want to find the nearest pine or palm tree and hang myself. For many people this community appears to be rather lovely. Jogging trails through man-made forest parks, alongside man-made lakes with cookie-cutter track homes, close-in to your nearest upscale grocery store and chain restaurants. Oh - and not too far from a possible yoga studio where you and other wifies can get together 3 mornings a week after the kids get off to school to gossip and take your life to the perfect zen place. Gag me.

Not that there is anything wrong with basically being bought to keep some techie geek happy while you live it up in a nice home with a nice car and a black American Express card. Or is there? My pride and self-respect as not only a woman but a human being won't allow me to perform my wifely duties for some flabby ass old white man just so that I can have the latest Prada loafers on my perfectly manicured feet. Nope. Can't do it. In fact, the notion of this "perfect" little suburban life just makes me want to gag. Keep up with the Jone's? Why? The Jone's kinda suck in my book.

However, here is where I sound like a wee bit of a hypocrite. I, myself, would have zero problem with having a 'kept' man. Yup, I think I could do it. However, here are were me and this corporate, fake boobies, liposuction, 2 little brat kids and a Range Rover part ways. My paid man would be hot, younger than me and be able to do more than just pleasure me, give me children and look good at the neighborhood Christmas/Hanukkah party. Oh yes, he better be able to fix anything that needs fixing, tell me "no" in a firm manner when needed, keep me in check, and then basically let me get my way (or at least thing I am) and be loyal. Like a dog. Although housebroken and less smelly. Unless of course he smells of grease, aftershave and maybe coffee or a hint of good whiskey. Gross, but oh so good.

Anyways, I am glad I had this conversation in my head today. I just reassured myself it is okay to be me and not want to live this so-called American dream thing. How freeing of me.

Who gives a damn

2010-03-08T20:12:00.001-08:00

I have a feeling this addition will come off sounding like a bit of a bitch session, but guess what? I don't care because this is my blog and I can, well, rant if I want to. It's just that today it occurred to be that yet again you can't trust anybody or even begin to. Okay, let me exclude a few people here, like my mother, but for the most part we are out for ourselves and ourselves alone.

So is this a bad thing? Not necessarily. I know me, I know what I like, I know what I need, what I want....or do I? Oh you see, this is where I can begin to get all deep and crap. So think I will spare all of you my 'dark pre-teen depressive child' self and just buck up and get the hell over things. So it doesn't always end up the way you want, you can't always have what you want, but so what. Perhaps life really is too short to spend more than a few moments (or a blog entry for that matter) worrying about things that have little to no importance in the grand scheme of things. Does he like me? Who effin cares?! Do I look ugly today? Probably, so put on a damn smile and fake it - or globs of makeup, that can always help. Will life work out for me? Will I make good money? Will I be happy? Blah, blah, bah. Moral of the story: Just be you, be happy and live each day to the fullest and stop worrying about dumb ass things, and especially dumb as mutha fuckin idiots who can't....oh forget it.

Rockstar

2010-03-02T18:48:00.000-08:00

I feel like a rockstar. Yes, it's true. I travel about the U.S., I drive a cool vehicle, I get asked by random people for my picture and I stay in nice hotels. There is however a core difference between myself and an actual rockstar: I talk about cheese all day long. Oh, and I also happen to lack the grandeous musical draw that sells out major stadiums across the world and makes young girls cry at the very thought of me. I have also yet to wear super tight leathers, lipsinc horribly at an awards show or have an affair with a B list actor who post break-up gets signed to do Dancing with the Stars. On the other hand, I do tend to get photographed at grocery stores and have pictures of me taken while driving down the road. Now all I need is 5 kids from different countries and a hot 'semi-husband' to make all things complete.

Too cool

2010-01-26T12:15:00.000-08:00

So this may be a topic that I have discussed at great length before. In fact, I guarantee it is because it tends to be a big part of the story that is my life. Sometimes it can just sick to be the "cool girl." What? Huh? Really? In my case this is so wrongly true. Okay, so obviously this has everything to do with boys and nothing to do with friends, work and fun times traveling. Because of course in those times I beyond friggin rock because, let's get real here, who doesn't just love having the cool, fun chica around right? Need I mention I tend to bring major fun times to the bar scene too? Haha, now I am bordering on bragging so let's ge back to the topic at hand. "The cool girl" syndrome, as I have decided to call it, is lame, lame, lame. Bottom line, if I am so cool that you can't imagine life without me by your side, I make you smile, I make you laugh, blah, blah, blah - what the frick is your damn problem bro? I mean, really? Obviously I am not perfection people, I have been known to rock a freak out session or two. You can't blame a girl and let's face it, I would be a freak of nature not to have a wacked out emotion from time to time. Gotta say though, lately there has been a certain somethin', someone, whatever, that has me erked a bit. I am getting the same old "your so cool" speech (which believe me, doesn't totally suck to hear) but I fear that I may get sucked back into the same story were I end up frustrated and only a friend. What's so wrong with just going with the flow and when it feels right just take it? Oh, who knows? I don't want to totally geek out on the situation because it is what it is. I guess I will have to continue my mission in life to have fun, love life and just roll with the punches so to speak. I mean, it wouldn't be cool if I didn't right? :)

Yo Yo Yo.....

2010-01-13T18:59:00.000-08:00

Been in Tucson, Arizona for a good week now and every time that I even begin to think that I am figuring these people out, I meet a 'Mario' of sorts. Today I am rockin' it out at the cheese tent in a sketch part of town, you know, just doing my thing and up comes a little old man guido named Mario. It was either that or Vinny eh? Not only is Mario (yo) wearing a white wife beater, warm-ups, sneaks and fanny pack, he also happens to be sporting a shiny gold New York Yankees medallion. Aw, hell yeah. Did I forget to mention that this flashy 75 year young man hails from the great hood of The Bronx? Not only did he tell me I was a healthy girl (insert the boob grab motion here) he talked about how he still gets the ladies (bow chicka wow wow) and works out every day. That's what I am talkin' bout yo! Oh man, been rocking the accent ever since we met this guy. I just can't help myself. In fact, listening to some Pittsburgh accents online right now thanks to Tyler. I am dyin' right now, you all have to Google CSI Pittsburgh. Alright, gotta jam out because I need more wine after this more than thrilling day :)

Cacti, wine and cheese

2010-01-10T17:18:00.000-08:00

I have arrived! The first stop on the cheese tour has rolled into Tucson, Arizona ready to rock. Although upon arrival I have begun to question my real maturity level, mainly due to the fact that I laugh at cacti, I still smile and point up in the air when a plane goes overhead (yay for me we are staying next door to the U.S Air Force base!) and I have had conversations with certain someones that have me questioning my emotional maturity levels at times. Too funny I am, really. On the other hand, I make up for it with my consistently stocked wine selection, dinner making abilities for the whole crew (and one lunch packed for a crew member so far) and my need to make sure nobody is hungry, thirsty or lacking in basic necessities like aspirin. Ask me how much I care about their needs 3 months into this tour. I may be telling everyone to bite me and walk to the Walmart or Denny's if they need anything.

Basically our days consist of driving to stores, rolling out our killer little buses, popping a tent and telling people how much our cheese is the best ever and having them munch on the goodness. After that's done we cruise back to the hotel, decompress, drink wine, eat dinner, work out (okay, done this once so far but it's only the first week) and then get cozy in our king size beds and sleep. Not too shabby. Looking forward to our day off on Tuesday cause we are going hiking up in the mountains. Thanks to the local news channel this morning I am now armed with the knowledge that jeans are best to wear when hiking here due to the massive amount of rattle snakes. Umm...sweet.

I now must go see who wants to grab some tacos with me. Found a fabulous taco shack down the street that is on the corner of Mexico and Gangster Avenues :)

On the road again...

2010-01-05T22:58:00.000-08:00

I am officially beyond proud of myself. After many years of traveling about, I think I have mastered the art of the packing job. I am shocked that with my first shot at a packing list and my first attempt at a "mock-pack" everything fit! For once I have no ridiculous emotional attachment to that stupid sweater I never wear, but may need of course, or that one skirt that wouldn't go with anything but I just love too much to part with. Now believe me, I am nowhere close to being able to pack just one pair of shoes or roll around like a smelly hippie with dreadlocks and one dingy white button up with brown cordoroy pants. I still need me some comfort clothes of sorts. Like my jewelry and every bra that I own. Of course I overpack on the undies too. You just never know, and dirty undies are so far from okay.

So with one bag (one!) and a carry-on, I am venturing off to spend the next 11 months on the road representing one of the best Oregon brands ever - Tillamook Cheese people! Hopefully the constant access to incredible cheese will not increase the size of my already bootilicious figure - I may have packed well but have no space for XXL size clothing by any means. I did pack my workout clothes, and unlike previous trips I didn't take them out last minute to make space for another dress and pair of heels. I feel so grown-up :)

Adios Portland, Oregon! See you in November!

Excuse me miss...

2009-12-30T00:39:00.000-08:00

In the panic that is prepping to be on the road for nearly a year, I found myself sitting at the DMV for over an hour waiting to get my driver's license renewed. First and foremost, I feel the need to comment on the lack of English being used at the DMV. I mean, damn it's a good thing I speak Spanish. Don't get me wrong, I am all about diversity, the use of other languages in the melting pot that is the United States, but come on here. If all the instructions, road signs and the like are in English, then shouldn't the instruction to follow them be in English? I don't know, just sayin...

Anyways, off track here. As I mentioned, I was sitting in the office for over an hour, just chilling and being patient, smiling at people and such without a clue that the entire time my top was completely unbuttoned. Yes, I was exposing myself right there for who knows how long. The thing that gets me is that nobody felt the desire to tell me this. Not the nice older woman sitting next to me, the lovely lady at the counter who helped me. Nobody. I mean, what is wrong with people nowadays? I feel like I am always letting people know when they have food in their teeth, toilet paper on their shoe, their fly is down, or their skirt is tucked into their undies. Either I am just overly aware or way too polite. But hey, at least I have a nice rack and a pretty bra.

Cheesy goodness

2009-12-20T15:35:00.001-08:00

As many of you may know, I finally got myself a damn job! Of course, knowing my style it's not going to be anything normal right?! So folks, I am embarking on an 11 month tour throughout many a lovely U.S. state to slang cheese. Mmm....queso. While I originally debated back and forth as to doing a six week on/off dealio, I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for the gold so to speak. A lot of this decision came down to the fact that I didn't want to miss out on spending a good deal of time in sunny San Diego or miss seeing some crazy ass mountains in Utah and Colorado.

I couldn't be more thrilled to be living in hotels either. There's just something about mini-lotions and shower caps that make me smile. Not to mention I don't have to clean a toilet, scrub a shower or make my bed for nearly a year. Oh the joy! While I will kinda-sorta miss my friends (I may shed a tear for one or two of you) and my family (you all better keep in touch!!), I know this experience will be up there with others I have had in my life as of yet. Thankfully I am young so if it sucks I have plenty of time to make this year up. Just saying.

That's so wrong

2009-12-15T19:07:00.000-08:00

I feel like I border on being highly inappropriate at times. I only verge on this though, so I may actually still be okay. For example, the other night I was volunteering at an emergency warming shelter for the Red Cross (we were below frigid here in P-Town for a week straight) and as I was sitting in a dark little corner watching a rather large group of homeless folks sleep, I felt the sudden urge to just scream at the top of my lungs. Did I? No people. That would be what we call inappropriate. However, the very fact that this crossed my mind as something that would be funny to do slightly concerns me. I mean, come on, it's quiet, everyone is asleep, their reaction could be hilarious as they wake up suddenly and think "what the f*ck?!" and then there I am in the corner laughing hysterically to the point of tears....or, um, maybe not.

I had another moment of this stupidity while sitting in my sexual harassment training today for the new job. For some reason all I wanted to do during the class and afterwards was say something so full-blown wrong and sexually inappropriate. I couldn't help looking around the room at everyone and wondering if I am the only weirdo who has these thoughts running through my obviously overactive mind. I guarantee I am not. I would like to think there are many other closet dorks out there.

Drunk Dialing....

2009-11-29T20:03:00.000-08:00

After way too many close calls (pun intended), I have decided to make a few changes in my life. You see, I suffer from a disorder called drunk texting and calling. Don't laugh my friends, this can be very serious. Ahem, um, so for some reason I find I have little self-control when it comes to realizing that after a few drinks too many it may not be wise to send a little hate-note of sorts to an ex whatever he is. I just also came to realize it could be taken as highly inappropriate to call someone at 3am just to say "hey" and see "what's up." I don't know why it took me so long to realize that when I get those calls at that hour, it tends to look a lot like a desperate booty-call. So why it wouldn't appear the same when I do it is beyond me.

So after yet another morning of looking back over my calls and texts from the previous night and feeling a wee bit of regret, and let's face it, borderline humiliation, I decided to be proactive and take a positive step into my new found rehabilitation. Yes people, I hit the erase button and it felt so damn good. Perhaps I should also take into account that alcohol has something to do with this too....naw.

Snobby Bi*ch

2009-11-16T13:27:00.000-08:00

Despite the fact that I haven’t worked in damn near two years, have a very small savings account (um, like $8), and admit that at times I do return pop bottles for gas money, lately I am feeling rather snobby. Surprisingly, this attitude seems to be rearing its ugly even though lately my overqualified ass (see what I mean) has not been able to find a job even as I keep getting told I am “great,” “extremely experienced,” and “more than qualified.” I have also managed to keep up a less than lackadaisical appearance with no roots (since I went back to my natural color that is), and thanks to discount shopping stores my fashion hasn’t suffered too much, although I still am in need of some hot new boots. But hey, whatever.

This feeling of snobbery hit an all time high the other night while out and about scoping the scene in town. Some guy (who will remain unnamed) at some lame bar (which will also go unnamed) thought it okay to begin to get his flirt-on with me. So, here I am, looking hot in my new black skinny jeans and über high heels kind of feeling the night and thinking this could be good. Semi-good looking dude is chatting me up with the basic compliments (yawn) and giving me the puppy-dog eyes (endearing at times, not so much tonight). We get to the breaking point of me thinking, well, maybe this guy is decent enough to share a few more moments on, after all the bar is not hoppin’ tonight. Then he begins to tell me how hard he’s been working lately…

I’m thinking manual laborer, which is totally fine and expected in this part of town, but I can feel the snobbery rising in my blood. He works with people…he has to be up early…he’s been there about 2 years…it’s just down the road…it’s retail…you’ve probably heard of it…it’s effing Subway. As in “Eat Fresh,” I am a sandwich artist. While I am glad that he has a job in this rough economy, it’s not as if he’s doing this to make his way through school. No, it’s what he does. Snob level has hit an all time high now as I look deep into myself to gain the strength not to look him dead in the eye and ask if he seriously thinks he has a chance with me. After all. I am highly educated, speak, speak multiple languages, am well-traveled, blah, blah, blah. Instead, I take a deep breath, look at him and say, “Um...yeah…I gotta go!” before grabbing the tab and hitting the door. Yes, I am a snobby bi*ch, so what?

Bitter

2009-10-18T23:49:00.000-07:00

I feel like it's been a long time since I last blogged for whomever is actually reading my rants. I've thought about it, just really been too lazy to want to do anything about it. Instead I have enjoyed reading a massive amount of books at a rapid rate (every hold I had came into the library in one week!) and continued my job seeking endeavors. Oh, and I got what I assume was probably the swine flu because it's been in my body for over 2 weeks now. With that said....

I finally had a job interview! After spending the last year and a half with no luck I was thrilled to get an e-mail that didn't begin with "Thank you for your interest in Company XY, however...." Seriously, I actually got a letter from one potential employer that told me they decided to go with someone else for the position I applied for, and wait this is good, "any other positions currently available." Ha. Interview went well, I rocked it of course. It couldn't have come at a better time either, with the holidays approaching I am battling the depression that comes from the inability to buy anything, for me or others.

It has become a regular thing for me now to drive down my beloved streets of upper NW Portland and know that I cannot afford anything there anymore. Where I used to sit and have $15 desserts and $20 dinner plates after a delightful afternoon of shopping is now where I sit (for a $1.50 coffee) and watch everyone walk by laughing and enjoying a glorious afternoon with shopping bags in their hands. It's sad when you can't even afford to thrift shop anymore too. I budget Taco Bell for fricks sake. Over it. So over it.

People annoy me

2009-10-01T23:39:00.000-07:00

It was pointed out by my bestie (yes, I use words like that) today that I have added to my continuously growing list of pet peeves. Hey, in my defence it's not my fault that people are just becoming more stupid! I also highly doubt that I am the only person who finds the blatant misuse of common words annoying and downright disgusting really. Okay, example. My friend sent me a text the other day and wrote, "Oh dam!" Really?! Really man? I know you aren't referring to something either beavers or incredibly brilliant engineers design right?

Oh, but wait, this is not the only new addition to my list o' peeves such as people who drink way too much soda and coffee (talking like 5 Big Gulps a day here, not a trip to Starbucks and a Dr. Pepper with lunch okay?) and those who can't seem to understand that dishwashers are designed for full-capacity, efficient loading. I have also come to realize that I have major beef with people who can't seem to use appropriate, professional e-mail formatting. If I know you, be casual. No need to address me accordingly each time, or hell, even sign your name. However, if you are corresponding with me about a job opportunity or something, check your grammar and use the lovely creation that is Spellcheck. I mean, come on, Microsoft has made it easy for you to appear smart, take advantage of it.

I am also under the very snobby opinion that if you are educated (not just college, talking educated in life, and just generally intelligent really) you are free to use improper speech in an attempt to sound cool, young or just plain hip. You've earned it. If you haven't been able to slightly master what is the English language (and your first language of course, I give a break to those who didn't begin the journey at birth. I'm not a total bitch.) then shut it please. It's painful for those of us that care.

TMI ladies, T-M-I

2009-09-16T02:50:00.000-07:00

I have a bit of a rant for all my lady friends out there - for the love of God, please stop going into rancid details about what is happening to your lady parts! It grosses me out that some of these things actually happen to me, what the heck makes you honestly think I also want to be that in touch with your cycles and systems?! I can handle the "Damn, I hate cramps" comments, and won't cringe if you ask me for a tampon, I mean after all, I am 30 years old. However, I have to draw the line when you start telling me about itchy things, odorific stuff, having a heavy flow or anything that goes into an overabundance of detail about your nether regions. I mean really, can't you save that talk for your lady doc? I simply don't care, nor want to know that about you.

While I am on a roll here, for all you strange ladies at the gym: Do you honestly think I want to watch you dry off every crease of your wrinkly naked body while I politely change into my sports bra? Um, no. I don't even think your husband wants to witness that, so why would a strange female in the locker room be down? Oh, and FYI, I can understand how the Brazilian isn't your thing, but at least a little landscaping if you're going to show it off please.

I'll take a pack of Newports and your best Merlot please

2009-09-12T21:08:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I have to be a snobby (real from birth mind you) Portlander for a moment because while riding the yellow line MAX this afternoon down the glory that is Interstate Avenue, I had a moment, of disgust really. After passing through the very north part of town and past the only Fred Meyer in the city you may need to pack heat to enter, we got to the "new" part of north Portland (NoPo if you will). This is where my disgust builds as I look at the very trendy New Seasons market filled to the brim with silver Priuses, Subaru wagons, and of course globs of bicycles, because this is not a classic image of this historic neighborhood. Of course spilling out of the store (baguettes, organic spinach and bottles of wine in their reusable totes) are this new breed of very white, very trendy in that, "Oh, this scarf and boots don't go together, I just threw them on, really" kind of way people; Who until 10 years ago were afraid to drive under 25mph past the beginning of MLK Jr Blvd without sweating profusely in fear of being car-jacked or shot.

Oh, but not now. Now, they flood the neighborhoods with their over-the-top ideas of what is true art, unkempt looking flower and veggie gardens spilling over their decks onto the sidewalks, and "I am so cultured because I moved away from the non-integrated burbs where I came from" attitudes. It bugs me, a lot obviously as I devoted an entire blog to it, because with this new influx of creamy white complexions to the "hood" comes a somewhat lack of consideration for the families that have called this neighborhood home for so many years. So while 'Tiffany' and 'Joey' flood the new shabby-sheik coffee shops with their iMacs to read the Willamette Week and wax-on about politics, the real locals are dealing with rising property values and the slow death of their colorful culture as they know it. There. I am done. Perhaps next time I will give my true opinion of the Pearl District.

Spanx me baby

2009-09-04T14:21:00.000-07:00

Whoever said that Spanx were comfortable are big, fat liars. Actually, it's more likely they are tiny, skinny liars because, baby, if you have an ounce of chunk on you, these are not cozy okay? I fell for the Hollywood trend awhile back when starlets like Eva Longoria started raving about how they never leave the house without their Spanx, aka God's little secret for women. So I rushed to Nordstrom's, slapped down a quick forty and left with a big grin thinking to myself that no longer will I have any weird lumps, bumps or rolls on this hot body. No people, from this point on I will be smooth as vanilla soy in my pencil skirts.

My excitement was short lived when that next Friday night I decided to give my new wonder undies a try. It took me a good 10 minutes to jump, twist, crouch and tug my way into the torture device (and yes I had the right size, I am not so vain I buy 'too small for me' undergarments). I pulled on my pencil skirt and slightly fitted shirt excited to see how I am now going to appear "a whole dress size smaller." While I admit my tummy was now just one tight, round pooch, I appeared to have grown a massive tire around my thighs and one whole extra set of boobs - on my back. Need I go into the fact there is also a pee hole for all your urinating pleasure? But mind you, when you try to bend over and adjust accordingly to use it, the top of your Spanx will only roll down and piss you off. Despite all this, I decided to give them a whirl on the town. I spent the next 4 hours trying to stay upright and not allow anyone to touch me for fear they would find out I was wrapped up like a sausage under my skirt. Then I had the pleasure of pealing them off me at 3am and having to shower due to the sweaty, red lined mess they made me. Yeah, um, I think I may just try a good old-fashioned corset.

Mad Men...Mmm

2009-08-30T22:34:00.000-07:00

As I sit here watching the glorious splendor that is Mad Men I wonder how long I would have lasted back in the 1960s since I tend to be a loud, opinionated female with a mind of her own. While I most likely would have been a "Peggy" due to my high intelligence and ability to be one of the boys (not a hint of narcissism there), I actually dig the odd, simple and quite nature of Betty. She may have it all: the hot husband, the big house in the burbs, two kids, a hot body, great hair and a closet full of the latest fashion.

I know she is married to a, albeit super sexy, terminal cheater who smokes more than a fire and favors one too many bourbons while demeaning her very being, but I envy her. Sometimes I feel like I want to be made a fool by a man like Don Draper and not say anything when he comes home after "working late" smelling like a Upper East Side floozy as he lights up another cig at the dining room table to eat the pot roast I spent all effen day cooking in between ironing, cleaning and taking care of the two bratty kids we had because "that's what you do" after you get married. Oh, and to spend all day getting gussied up to only have to sit through the dull evening with your colleagues that all know you are a cheating bastard when you think you live a Ken and Barbie lifestyle (although didn't Ken end up being gay? Anyways...).

I think I am smelling a little social experiment in the works. Does being a quite, weird women attract a playboy like Don Draper? Could be fun to find out. Then again, do I really want to put myself into a potentially emotional abusive relationship just to play out some silly 1960s housewife fantasy? Um, I hate to say it but...maybe.

Hey fat ass!

2009-08-26T17:47:00.000-07:00

I finally got off my lazy butt and made it back to the gym today. I have a feeling this new found sense of urgency to get fit again came from my recent trip to the Gulf Coast beaches of Florida where the white sand shoreline was filled with motivating visions of large-and-in-charge women in tiny bikinis waddling along under the hot sun. Not the postcard vision of Florida I was expecting. On a positive note, I felt super hot and most of them were with very good-looking men, despite some resemblance to Tweedle-D. While I saw firsthand that there are many men out there who so enjoy more cushion for the pushin' so to speak, it still made me realize that I need to get my ass in gear, and pronto.

Don't worry, I am not one of those annoying skinny girls who thinks she needs to loose 20 pounds (so she can be an effin size 4 that is). I am 5'2" and weigh 1...ha! As if I were going to blast that number online, but really I could stand to drop a few L-Bs. So to be as healthy as possible in this endeavour, I am choosing to re-commit myself to Weight Watchers, although I really wish they had leaders who yelled and shamed you into losing weight, eat as much raw food as possible and actually go to the gym on the regular. So thank you Florida for hosting such fat asses on the beach, it really motivated me to get healthy.

Destination location: The airport please

2009-08-17T16:30:00.000-07:00

I used to be one of those people that got all snobby and thought the U.S. doesn't have any real culture. I mean, come on people, it's not culture unless it twirls in fancy skirts, beats drums, speaks a foreign language, has weird food you can't identify, and well, basically looks nothing like a purebred white boy with a Boston cap - right? Oh no, no, no this is just not true, so I am learning. There are so many sub-cultures that exist in this sprawling country from west coast, to the south, the north and to the east (and all those useless states in the middle right?) we are different, some might say unique really, with little splendors that set us just the slightest bit apart from one another. The great thing about it is, I don't need to play golf in Arizona, deep sea fish in the San Juan Islands, ride a horse in Texas, catch some jazz in New Orleans, or hail a cab in New York City to get the gist of what these people are like. I just need about 10 minutes in their airport.

It should really be a vacation package of sorts, what with all the great restaurants, bookstores, upscale duty-free shopping, sometimes free music if you're lucky, plus the walls are adorned with great local facts, figures and pictures of the area. Why leave? Some could even be considered Eco-tourism, like Portland, which has a very sustainable airport you know. I'm digressing here, back to the people and culture. My travels have allowed me to stop off in many different airports and therefore given me just a glimpse into the local cultures and I thought I would share a few of those with you now, tell me if I am stereotyping too much by all means:

Chicago: rude (a little smile and hello is much welcomed after being out of the country for 6 damn months thank you), dirty, gray, crowded, good looking businessmen, cold, great food, drab with only a hint of fun in the sports bar.
Los Angeles: lack of intelligence (don't get me started here), crowded, an air of haughtiness, wait a minute am I in Mexico?, great variety of salads, lots of colorful clothes, fake boobies, fake blondes, lots of "important people" and nothing is on time.
Hawaii: very friendly ("Aloha! Oh my, I am so sorry, but it looks like you have been randomly selected for additional screening. Is that okay? Mahalo." I'm not kidding), great tropical drinks, breezy tropical breezes, lots of flowers, smiles all around, no worries, no rush.
Arizona: nobody pays any attention to anything, lots of tan people, the majority are pretty fit looking, people seem smart, they may own stock in the khaki shorts and sun visor industry, golf shirts everywhere and most of the women look like soccer moms with extra, sun-freckled cleavage and bachelor's degrees.
Charlotte: more "colorful" if you will, fried food at every gate, people appeared a bit, um, stupid really with how they talk ("We be boarding zone 1 and 2 now" & "You be allowed one carry on..."), slow walkers, less fit in appearance that Arizona that's for sure, no apparent style to be noted, unless stretch cotton is the new thing.
Portland: uber clean, bright, very "green," tons of stuff about nature all over, coffee shops galore, 8 out of 10 people wear brown shoes (this is my own personal survey I have conducted many times over the years), lots of readers, and super friendly people who keep to themselves.
San Fran: almost as rude as Chicago, rushing, everything is a rush, good looking people everywhere (if you are into the stock broker looking, leather shoes, trench coat thing, yum), newspapers abound, good food variety, lots of coffee options, confusing, everyone appears to be doing something or going somewhere.

Ah...unemployment

2009-08-09T18:02:00.000-07:00

People seem to be intrigued that I have stayed unemployed for such a great length of time, as if I prefer this lifestyle or something. I get a great deal of the classic, and frankly annoying, comments of "must be nice" in that sing-songy tone that is only intended to imply that my life is crazy good and I should feel sorry for them because, wah, they have to go to work 5 days a week. Because yes my dear friend, it is nice not having a steady income and have to rely on Uncle Sam to barely pay my bills each month. Oh, and it is so lovely to send out over a hundred (that is not an exaggeration) resumes, portfolios, applications, cover letters and the like to either get no response at all, or better yet a lovely letter telling you about how you would be a perfect fit, have killer qualifications, but they really just don't care to even bother interviewing you.

I know I shouldn't be complaining all that much, and that I should be grateful that at least I don't have a mortgage to worry about, kids to feed, I have my health, blah, blah, blah, but I have had to make some adjustments that make it hard to look at the glass as half full. It's not easy when you aren't able to feed your shoe habit the way you are accustomed to. It's also highly discouraging to choke down my well (ugh) whiskey and diet, get chased by damn wasps while washing my own car (finally decided I live in Oregon and who cares), buy my $4.50 hair color (that's after the double coupons), or have to actually budget in a Taco Bell splurge, because there is nothing like an occasional double beef burrito to keep you regular.

Bottom line, it is "nice" to be able to sleep in as late as I want, mooch of my parents more than usual, not shower for 3 days if I so desire, spend hot summer days at the river, volunteer, and have time to read a good book a week. I have to be honest though, as much fun as it is to see how long you can go without shaving your pits, I would much rather be meeting up with friends for happy hour to have a much needed bitch session about how unappreciated I am at work and how much better I am than half the people there. Come on, everyone says or at least thinks that, so don't be judging me. If something doesn't "come along soon" (another comment that makes me want to whistle and skip) I may end up finding my calling as an unemployment support group leader. We'll meet up at the pub with the $1 Pabst beers and kareoke, so we can at least drown our sorrows with cheep beer and bad music.

A jolly, gay ol' time

2009-08-08T00:19:00.000-07:00

Times are rough right now, what with the high unemployment rates, health care debates, worries of swine f -oops I mean N1H1 virus, and for us single ladies, the lack of good-looking, fun, honest men who just want to find their best friend to spend the rest of their lives with climbing pyramids, laughing at each other's lame attempts at real humor, having crazy wine-induced sex while vacationing in Spain before coming home to our fabulous flat in the city where our extremely intellectual and amazingly cultured friends come to enjoy a fabulous night of conversation...okay, I went too far, but I think you get the point. Anyways, after little consideration, I have decided to go gay.

I am not writing off all men in favor of the female-persuasion, don't get me wrong, but I am utilizing my gay male friends a lot more, what with my stream of unfortunates lately. I'm not giving up though, I do believe that there is someone out there for me, I just need a little pit stop on that eventual road to bliss. It just so happens that my pit-stop involves being made to feel like you are the hottest chica in the room, late night cuddle sessions, romantic comedies, hot men, and great dance clubs. I'm not pulling a total Will & Grace here, but a little dose of cheeky, neurotic behavior can't be that bad for my single soul.

Hola, how much?

2009-08-07T23:22:00.000-07:00

As many of you may know, I am currently seeking a job beyond honing my fabulous cooking skills, reliance on government funding and being a damn good social (and highly educated I might add) butterfly. So when I ventured out last night to down a few at the local pub my buddy works at I was expecting a night of bad karaoke, strong drinks, local drunks and non-thought provoking conversion - not an unconventional, albeit slightly enticing, job offer.

The older I get the less I am shocked by people, so when a very middle-aged Latino entered the bar, we'll call him Señor Suave for fun, I wasn't at all shocked that he wanted to talk to me. I was however a wee bit shocked at what he wanted to talk to me about. What started out as a very interesting conversation about his family history (his family lived in the Los Angeles area when it still belonged to Mexico, kinda cool) and the general bar-friendly chit-chat that means nothing really, was very quickly turning into the very first solicitation for my services.

Apparently my slight interest in Señor Suave's life translated to him thinking I would actually consider being taken on as an, um, personal assistant of sorts. Thankfully since the conversation was all taking place in Spanish I was the only one privy to my being cheapened. So according to my dark, wrinkly suitor, I was to be outfitted in all the expensive clothes I would want, have use of his Mercedes convertible and even get a flat in the Pearl. I don't know what offended me more, the fact that he thinks I would actually want to live in the fakeness and un-authenticity that is the Pearl District, or that I appeared to be someone that would consider such a thing as being "paid" for sleeping with a man. Oh but wait, I wouldn't have to sleep with him, he promised me, he was just looking for beautiful (aw shucks), young woman to have good conversation with. Ha, yeah right, what am I stupid? I could forsee the requests for a junior high school style hand job in exchange for the new Hermès scarf I would have never before looked twice at, before becomming a kept-woman that is.

Funny thing is, beyond my getting asked to be a hooker of course, that when I told my mother about this her first question was "Well was he at least good looking?" Really? Really mom? As if that would make a difference and then maybe, just maybe, I should have at least considered the poor guy. Okay, maybe it would have, I can't lie.

I give wedding advice...huh?

2009-08-06T18:29:00.000-07:00

I got published again! Whoop whoop! Another little quirky story about wedding advice. I'm not married you say? Um, exactly :) Check it out HERE.

To Whom It May Concern:

2009-08-02T15:09:00.000-07:00

For those who have been in the job application mode lately, you may get a kick out of this, and for those not, well you may get a giggle as well. You see, I keep getting these fabulous rejection letters from potential employers telling me how great I am, but no thanks. So, I think we should start sending them out for all types of rejection, because come on, why limit it to just the job market?

Dear potential boyfriend/girlfriend,

I would like to thank you for taking the time to apply for a position as my potential significant other. You have an excellent history of not cheating, a great background in commitment and are fluent in great conversation. However, after much consideration I have decided to interview other men/women for this position.

I will keep your application on file for future positions if the other idiot that I decide to choose happens to not work out, or I get extremely drunk and call you at 2am, whichever comes first.

Sincerely,

Miss/Mr. Jerk

Here we go again...

2009-08-02T13:21:00.000-07:00

I am quickly coming to the conclusion that all men really are created equal; equally confused and living in their own little twisted world that is. This may sound like a rant, call it what you will, but I am honestly over some of those who consider themselves a part of the male species. While I like to pride myself on being a bit of an oddity at times, come on, I usually get invited to hang with the boys on guy's night because I'm 'just cool like that', but when it comes to getting duped I admit, I will always be just one of the ladies.

The fact that being 'confused' seems to happen not just to me, but basically all of my female friends, is leading me to believe that it's not just us ladies that are simply not getting it. Perhaps, it's all you boys (read into the fact that I said boys and not men) that lead us to believe that there is actually something substantial and worthwhile happening that we should stick around for. Perhaps we just want to believe that what you say and what you do are going to be the same thing, or perhaps it's just wishful thinking that there are actually people out there that mean what they say. I tend to be a rather good judge of character; I rarely make things up in my head (really, I try not to, so not a good practice) but every now and then apparently I like to get really girlie and think that there may be something when there is nothing. Funny how that happens. Sucks how that feels.

I have to thank the author of He's Just Not That Into You for laying it out there like a real man. I don't think he will ever fully understand the gift he gave to us women who choose to actually heed his advice. If he is "too busy" to make time, yup, not into you. Can't because he just got out of a "serious relationship?" Yeah, um, not into you. "Confused" about his feelings? You guessed it, really just not that into you. You see, I am glad that with age comes the increasing wisdom to know that if someone is not willing to put out an ounce of effort, despite some of the above excuses, then they really just don't care enough, because people, if you are really into someone, there is nothing that will get in your way.

I've been published!

2009-07-30T20:06:00.001-07:00

Okay, so it may not be an article in the NY Times, or even Star for that matter, but I got published! So if you are interested in knowing all about Kim Kardashian's beauty secrets (oh I know you are!), the click HERE to check it out. Sweet.

Reality...it ain't no show

2009-07-29T00:45:00.001-07:00

It has to be said that television and movies have simply ruined women (and men too) to the reality of what is reality when it comes to relationships. We fill our minds each day with the idea that men really do run off to Paris to rescue you (thanks Sex and the City), that people are always moving cross country for love, being spastic and crazy is actually endearing, and open-relationships can actually blossom into loving, committed bliss. Um, yeah right.

In my movie, sitcom, reality show, whateva, fabulous first dates are followed up by a text message, you move and are lucky to get a quarterly generic e-mail update about their new dog and fabulous new life without you, and being laid back and chill gets you...nowhere. Visions of grandeur that life is filled with helicopter rides over waterfalls and 25 men vying for your attention just don't ring true in the everyday. While I enjoy the mind numbing invention of the romantic comedy, I question if it hasn't in some way made an impact on the over 50% divorce rate we hear so much about. Maybe if we weren't being filled with unrealistic expectations on a daily basis we could all actually come to the reality that relationships are not all about prince charming riding up on his white horse to whisk you away to lala land. It's more likely he'll be riding up in an 85' Nissan Sentra and whisking you through the Taco Bell drive-thru, and then stealing all the fire sauce.

Fabulously Flawed

2009-07-27T15:27:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I am a bit obsessed with this new show on the USA Network called Royal Pains. It is not because the dialogue and storyline is so riveting, it's not, but it does have something to do with the awkward, big-nosed, curly-haired, bow-legged star of the show, Mark Feuerstein (aka Dr. Hank Lawson). He's what I like to call fabulously flawed; by many standards not 'hot', but his unfortunate genetic code has created something super sexy. Hollywood is full of them too, just look at Joaquin Phoenix and his famous upper lip or Kirsten Dunst with her snaggle tooth. While society seems to be hyper-focused on perfection, I think they have it all wrong. In my opinion there is nothing sexier than an overly large, and if lucky, crooked nose, one odd little tooth that won't straighten out, or even ears that stick out just a wee bit too far. Maybe this obsession has something to do with the fact that I am perfect...naw...that can't be it.

Nice to meet you. I live at home with my mommy.

2009-07-26T21:29:00.000-07:00

Just admit it, in some ways you are jealous of me. I mean, come on, I kind of have it made right now. Granted I can't paint the walls whatever color I want, have gentlemen callers when I want to scratch an itch, and my step-father seems to be in the bathroom every damn time I just happen to want to use it...but hey, I don't pay rent, I have an entire floor to myself, the fridge is always stocked, and my mom will still pick up my tampons for me without so much as a blink of an eye.

Even so, I feel discriminated against. It's sad and unfortunate that many here in the good ol' U.S of A find it less attractive to live at home than it is to have a fungal infection of some kind on your girlie parts. Yes, I just said that. Since when does living with your parents at the ripe old age of 30 mean you are less succesful, and let's just be honest here, kind of a loser? You know, cross the pond and you won't be surprised to find a nice bloke eating fish and chips in his parents living room at all of 38 years of age. If my mom gives me permission I may even go with you.

By the way, I'm at home while I wait for this stimulus package to actually work, and I was finishing my degree, and I wanted the chance to travel, and yes, I feel the need to tell you that.

Hello. My Name is Cheater.

2009-07-26T16:57:00.001-07:00

So why is it that when a guy wants to cheat on his wife he feels it is totally appropriate to basically just let you know. Can't you at least try and lie? I mean, it was wierd enough when you were acting like a total creeper and just staring at me. It was also rather odd that you were all trying to get up in my biz when I was so obviously ignoring your blinged-out ass and trying to watch the show. No, we are not drinking. No, we don't want a drink. No, not married. Yes, he sings good. Yes, I have a lighter. No, unaware Market of Choice doesn't sell ciggies. No, we aren't going to drink with you. Yes, lame you are fighting with your wife. Yes, I am sure you do love her very much. No, didn't know your wife has issues with your torrid, slutty past. No, we are not drinking (didn't we cover that?!). Yes, you are an ass!

Welcome to my blog yo!

2009-07-25T14:21:00.000-07:00

I find that I am a highly opinionated person who likes to spout off ideas, comments and the like without an invitation, so figured why not start a blog where nobody can stop me right? So here it is, hope ya'll can dig it.