HAL: Well, let’s say that since you were little, you always dreamed of getting a lion. And you wait, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait but the lion doesn’t come. And along comes a giraffe. You can be alone, or you can be with the giraffe. OLIVER: I’d wait for the lion. HAL: That’s why I worry about you.
I had happy hour at The Prado at Balboa Park last night! We enjoyed margaritas and live music by Trent Hancock. The highlight of my night was when he asked for song requests and hand to god, someone suggested Hoobastank (and it wasn’t me!). The lowlight was parking down the street on 6th and trekking to the restaurant because I didn’t want the valet attendant to see my secret shame! Ha.
Phil’s is opening a restaurant in Santee! This alcohol notice confirms it. Soon I’ll be able to get drunk and stuff myself with meat closer to home. And then I can head over to Phil’s afterward 😉
Charlotte Sometimes is on The Voice! Waves & The Both Of Us got me through some shit with Il Postino years ago! So excited to see her on the show. Now I have a reason to watch besides Adam Levine’s beard (as if that wasn’t reason enough).
Charlotte Sometimes – Pilot
[audio:http://www.mayanrocks.com/blog/Charlotte Sometimes – Pilot.mp3]
And when I say that you should stay
Remember what I’m drinking’s cheap
And I’m a pilot and I am steering deep
I’ve been spending a lot of time with my grandma since she had heart surgery last week, and I’ve found that we have a lot more in common than I thought we did.
SCHMIDT: Every time you have sex with the same person, Jess, you die… just a little bit. It’s like a copy of a copy. JESS: Lucky us, we get to go out looking for some straaange. Happy V-day, playa! SCHMIDT: Holla!
I have three weddings coming up (none of which are my own, of course), and Yelp just threatened to take away my gym junkie badge due to a lack of check-ins. If that’s not a sign to start working out again, then I don’t know what is. Besides, isn’t the point of weddings to get good photos of yourself while you’re thin?
This past week, I received an email from an old high school friend I lost touch with, two of my old coworkers from two different jobs both texted me out of the blue wanting to hang out, and I just happened to cross paths with someone I haven’t seen in ten years. What’s next? The return of Crystal Pepsi?
Rusted Root – Send Me On My Way
[audio:http://www.mayanrocks.com/blog/Rusted Root – Send Me On My Way.mp3]
Thanks to this week’s episode of New Girl for my new ringtone! Expect to see these dance moves every time I get a text message…
Find a new home. A new apartment, a new house, maybe a new city… No one is keeping me here but myself.
Pay off my credit cards. I just paid off my car, but my credit card debt is seriously cramping my style.
Find a new job. It’s been over four years since I took this internship as a “stepping stone” towards my dream job. Two promotions and seven interns later, I know I’ve reached my full potential here and exhausted my stay.
Conquer the elusive French macaron. I’m going to bake a perfect salted caramel macaron, and it will be glorious.
Try new things. The same old is getting old. I can’t remember the last time I did something for the first time.
Travel more. Go somewhere I’ve never been before for more than just a weekend.
Appreciate what I have. I’ll try not to lose any sleep over the nine couples I know getting married this year. Yes, I said nine.
Procrastinate less. If being stuck with no gas at Anthony’s during The Great Blackout of 2011 taught me anything, it’s that Anthony uses Aveeno Skin Brightening Daily Scrub. And that I shouldn’t wait until my gas light is on for two days before filling up.
Take better care of myself. Eat better, exercise more, get regular checkups. Losing my aunt to lung cancer last year coupled with my mom’s painful battle with pancreatitis def put my health in perspective.
Be more organized. My dad once told me that guys like girls who are more organized. I used to think it was just something that he said to get me to take the half empty bottled waters out of my car, but now I’m not so sure.
Go to more music festivals. Outside Lands in SF last year was amazeballs. There are so many other festivals… Coachella in Indio, Lollapalooza in Chicago, Bonnaroo in Tennessee, SXSW in Austin… Where should I go next? Who’s coming with me? And most importantly, which festivals will Young the Giant be at???
Since I didn’t instantly turn into a little old troll under a cave when the clock struck midnight on my 30th birthday, I abandoned my original plan to hide under my bed all weekend and celebrated instead:
Pink champagne to toast my dirtieth at work, courtesy of my boss
Pammie’s CMYK balloons made my little design nerd heart race
Pizza and beer at Blind Lady Ale House to celebrate Anthony’s, Christine’s, and my birthday week! The only sausage I had that night was the chorizo on my artisan pizza, Shirley May =P
Moscow mules at El Camino and a Seau sighting at Lucha Libre with Christine, Pammie and Jessie
I made a wish on my creme brulee and practiced my indoor voice at Donovan’s for Restaurant Week with Pammie, Chel and Shi.
I made it through my 30th birthday relatively unscathed with a little help from my friends and a lot of liquor 😉 Thanks for a great weekend, loves ♥
Thank you for taking me out for beers on your birthday. I was one beer away from jocking you hard into a half mouth kiss. LOLOL. That’s so ugly. My stomach hurts from laughing all night. You really are a beacon for lost souls, if only my own. Happy birthday, friend!
I don’t know what’s sadder—that I spent my last weekend in my twenties at yet another baby shower, or that I won the dirty diaper game by identifying 10 out of 10 melted candy bars (some without even having to smell them).
This is the thing: When you hit 28 or 30, everything begins to divide. You can see very clearly two kinds of people. On one side, people who have used their 20s to learn and grow, to find themselves and their dreams, people who know what works and what doesn’t, who have pushed through to become real live adults. Then there’s the other kind, who are hanging onto college, or high school even, with all their might. They’ve stayed in jobs they hate, because they’re too scared to get another one. They’ve stayed with men or women who are good but not great, because they don’t want to be lonely. They mean to develop intimate friendships, they mean to stop drinking like life is one big frat party. But they don’t do those things, so they live in an extended adolescence, no closer to adulthood than when they graduated.
Don’t be like that. Don’t get stuck. Move, travel, take a class, take a risk. There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. This season is about becoming. Don’t lose yourself at happy hour, but don’t lose yourself on the corporate ladder either. Stop every once in a while and go out to coffee or climb in bed with your journal.
Ask yourself some good questions like: “Am I proud of the life I’m living? What have I tried this month? What parts of my childhood am I leaving behind, and what parts am I choosing to keep? Do the people I’m spending time with give me life, or make me feel small? Is there any brokenness in my life that’s keeping me from moving forward?”
Now is your time. Walk closely with people you love, and with people who believe life is a grand adventure. Don’t get stuck in the past, and don’t try to fast-forward yourself into a future you haven’t yet earned.
Give today all the love and intensity and courage you can, and keep traveling honestly along life’s path.
It was my last NYE in my 20s, so I thought I would go out with a bang. Today, I woke up in Las Vegas sore as hell and $300 richer! Sadly, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as it sounds.
RUXIN: Because of that HR asshole, I have no computer access to league activities. So I’m using my old personal email address— KEVIN: herdsman@earthlink.net? RUXIN: No. PETE: yaya@yahoo.com? RUXIN: If you must know, it’s the_ruxtor18@hotmail.com. PETE: I can’t tell what’s funnier—is it that you chose “the ruxtor,” or is it that you have an actual Hotmail account, the official email for foreigners and poor people?
Sure, I used to be YummyMAYANaze@hotmail.com. And maybe on AIM, too. And okay, before that I was GUMMYI3EAR@aol.com (yes, that “B” consists of a lowercase “i” and the number 3). I’m obvi still yummy and I still like gummybears, but you don’t see me bragging about it on my GeoCities website!
I was doing everything short of bending time and space to get these damn flans out of my supposedly nonstick brioche pans when my aunt turned to me and said, “It’s so hard being Martha Stewart, isn’t it?”
Not only did I receive a reminder from Anthropologie that I’m turning thirty next month, but I also got stuck with a “family” frame (for the husband and kids I don’t have) at the white elephant gift exchange at my office today.
If only I had picked the booze that Jesse brought so I could drown my sorrows.
3:18 PM
Jesse: so im going to the home depot parking lot in 15 minutes to buy nye tickets from dude off craigslist
me:i hope you have your gat strapped
3:21 PM
Jesse: if im not back in 30 minutes, call the police cuz ive likely been stabbed and robbed
me: can i have your white elephant gift if you don’t come back?
I’m pretty sure this is Jesse’s way of saying that he no longer appreciates hearing me blast Young the Giant in my shitty earbuds all the livelong day.
I was sitting in Grantville Park on my lunch break with my rolled tacos in one hand and my iPhone in the other wondering how the hell I was supposed to eat my Taco Fiesta AND watch episodes of Happy Endings at the same time (and in case you were wondering… yes, my wallet’s too small for my fifties and yes, my diamond shoes are too tight).
My friends and I are doing another Elfster gift exchange this year, so I’ve added an iPhone Moviepeg to my wishlist. The list is really more of a loose guideline. Like if you were to get me a KitchenAid Stand Mixer in Imperial Black even though I clearly wished for Onyx Black, I would still accept it.
I figured out how to make my own bliss bars, and now I can have them anytime I want! These were good, but they would taste even better if they were made with a KitchenAid stand mixer 😉
DAVE: You’re really going with the coupon books that no one wants again this year? ALEX: People love my coupon books! DAVE: Nibble your name into a cobb of corn? Who wants that? ALEX: You know you want it. Pick a font, baby. Don’t be shy. DAVE: I do not want that in Helvetica.
Gandhi said that whatever you do in life will be insignificant.
But it’s very important that you do it.
I tend to agree with the first part.
Don’t postpone what you want.
Don’t leave anything misunderstood.
Make sure the people you care about know.
Make sure they know how you really feel.
Because just like that… it could end.
As someone who relies on a Magic 8 Ball app to make my life decisions, it’s no surprise that I’m all about this wishful thinking crap.
And so today at 11:11, instead of wishing my usual wish that I won’t mention (partly because it won’t come true if I do, but mostly because it’s frowned upon), I wished for the speedy recovery of my best friend’s dad who suffered a heart attack and had quadruple bypass surgery yesterday. And for a miracle to happen for my mom’s sister who is back in the hospital and losing her battle with lung cancer.
I think you could fall in love with anyone if you saw the parts of them that no one else gets to see. Like if you followed them around invisibly for a day and you saw them crying in their bed at night or singing to themselves as they make a sandwich or even just walking along the street and even if they were really weird and had no friends at school, I think after seeing them at their most vulnerable you wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with them.
I really hope no one was following me invisibly tonight, because they would have seen me in bed watching Remember Me while sobbing uncontrollably, and then watching the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show while regretting everything I’ve ever eaten in life and trying to suck in that little pouch where I keep my extra cookies.
I’ve waited a hundred years
But I’d wait a million more for you
Nothing prepared me for
What the privilege of being yours would do
I may or may not have cried during this scene when I watched it for the first time at the theater on Friday. And again when I watched it on Saturday. And a third time while watching the bootleg I just downloaded today.
I made bourbon pumpkin spice whoopie pies for Thanksgiving this year. They’re filled with cream cheese, love, and that mini bottle of Maker’s Mark that I keep in my purse.
I love baking with booze… and sometimes I even put it in the food 😉
It was a Saturday night, so I was in bed eating beef ribs from Phil’s BBQ when Christine called me and said that Diplo was having a free show downtown for the America’s Cup World Series. I’ve had this weird crush on Diplo ever since I saw him in that Blackberry commercial, so I finished my ribs got ready and was out the door by 7:30.
I had dessert and drinks with Christine at Karl Strauss, walked to the harbor, fist pumped to Diplo’s set, met up with Jessie, had one too many mules at El Dorado, ate late night tamales at La Fachada, and got home at three in the morning.
Today, I woke up with a headache and a half eaten burrito next to my face.
Dude, check out what we’ve been working on all afternoon.
I’m supposed to be finishing the last book of a certain love saga that shall not be named so that I can watch the movie today with the girls (if you know what I’m talking about, I will judge you, but I’m already super busy judging myself, so don’t feel too bad about it).
Instead of reading, I’ve been staring at this animated gif from Happy Endings all morning. I laughed so hard during this scene that I scared my dog!
There’s this Chinese hole-in-the-wall that I order food from whenever I’m feeling shitty (so like… every Wednesday), and they used to give me four sets of plastic silverware, because I clearly ordered enough food to share with three other people.
And then there was a period of about a week where I ordered takeout from them like three or four days in a row, and they started giving me just one set of utensils for all that food plus extra fortune cookies (to feed my pain, I’m sure). Actually, this was last week.
The New Girl is my favorite new show this season! I just want to put Jess in my pocket and keep her forever. Also, I’d like to take Nick down to Chinatown and slice him off a piece of this pumpkin pie!
Not only do I teach my interns how to polish a turd in photoshop, but I also encourage them to forego their grad school scholarships and follow their dreams.
Somewhere, right now, Angela’s grandma is giving me the stink eye.
I find that my feelings toward work this week are best expressed through animated gifs. In addition, I really picked the most inopportune time to lay off the booze.
True story. I’m not sure why I have a Google+ account. Most of the gmail contacts they suggest to me are people that I know, but deliberately choose not to be friends with, and the rest of them are craigslisters I’ve risked my life meeting for casual encounters concert tickets. And so I’m left with 7 friends in my circle. I’d ask them what they’re doing for Halloween, but I really have no idea how to use this thing.
Laying out on the beach with the girls in a belated attempt to get a tan this year. In other news, it’s snowing on the east coast. Try not to be too jealous.
Happy birthday to my BFF at work! I didn’t come in an hour early to post-it bomb just anyone’s desk 😉 My appreciation for you runs deeper than your secret love for Hootie and the Blowfish. And I think we both know just how deep that is. Ha!
Whoever said that nothing tastes as good as thin feels has never had a Porto’s cheese roll, obvi. But I didn’t go to the gym at an unholy hour on a Saturday just to offset my workout by inhaling one of these delicious treats… that my aunt brought me from LA… that I probably won’t have again till Thanksgiving. Or Christmas. Or 2012.
Why You Need A Man, Not A Boy | Mindy Kaling via Glamour
Until I was 30, I dated only boys. I’ll tell you why: Men scared the sh*t out of me. Men know what they want. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn’t on the floor. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they’re thinking of kissing you. Men wear clothes that have never been worn by anyone else before.
OK, maybe men aren’t exactly like this. But this is what I’ve cobbled together from the handful of men I know or know of, ranging from Heathcliff Huxtable to Theodore Roosevelt to my dad. The point: Men know what they want, and that is scary.
What I was used to was boys.
Boys are adorable. Boys trail off their sentences in an appealing way. Boys get haircuts from their roommate, who “totally knows how to cut hair.” Boys can pack up their whole life and move to Brooklyn for a gig if they need to. Boys have “gigs.” Boys are broke. And when they do have money, they spend it on a trip to Colorado to see a music festival.
Boys can talk for hours with you in a diner at three in the morning because they don’t have regular work hours. But they suck to date when you turn 30.
So I’m into men now, even though they can be frightening. I want a schedule-keeping, waking-up-early, wallet-carrying man. I don’t care if he takes prescription drugs for cholesterol or hair loss. (I don’t want that, but I can handle it. I’m a grown-up too.)
When I was 19, my co-worker Mike took one look at my 21-year-old boyfriend and told me that I needed to date a real man (Mike was 30 with tattoo sleeves on both arms—I’m pretty sure he was talking about himself). Fast forward 10 years, and I’m still not dating real men! Maybe I’ll consider upgrading when I turn 30… in 3 months. Yikes.
To celebrate Chel’s 30th birthday, we went to Skateworld to roll bounce the night away! Just kidding. We only skated for an hour, if that. My nearly 30-year-old body was winded after a few laps. Ha.
There’s an indirect correlation between the amount of work I get done and the number of gchats I have going at any given time. Today is Friday so… you do the math.
This was me after the recent layoffs at work these past few weeks.
Jesse said it was so quiet in the office yesterday that you could hear a mouse fart. My boss let go of half of our marketing team (including the two interns I wasted six months of my life training), and I’ve been given all of their marketing responsibilities. If I have to google how to do one more fucking Excel formula, I might have to cut a bitch. And since no one else is left, it might have to be Jesse. Or that farting mouse.
Loved, loved, loved 50/50… even though my friends totally served me during this scene! Just because my car is a perpetual mess… and we often clean it out when we’re near a dumpster… and I sometimes stalk my ex boyfriends on facebook.
I went home sick from work today. Besides drinking my weight in orange juice, I’ve been staring at this picture of Adam Levine for the past twenty minutes… and probably for another ten.
Since you’re having a bad day today, I’m going to arrange a pizza party with the Ninja Turtles, and you can invite anyone you want to (except for that heifer, April, of course). And all the pizzas will already have the cheese taken off for you, and I won’t even give you shit about it, even though I’ll never understand why you don’t like cheese on your pizza. And you’ll get to eat next to Michelangelo—not because he’s your favorite, but because he’s mine, and I’m willing to share. And before the night’s over, I’ll somehow initiate a dance sequence that involves Vanilla Ice.
Or… you can just give me the social security numbers of the bitches who ruined your day today, and I will ruin their lives for you. It’s your call.
SHI: we were gchatting for five minutes and then he told me he had just gotten out of the shower and was butt naked the whole time he was talking to me! ME: i mean, put some clothes on and then check your email! why was he gchatting naked? SHI: i don’t know, why do you curl your hair naked? ME: i hate you
Yesterday, Antonio invited us to JT’s for karaoke night.
#1 I’m not that kind of Asian and #2 I only go to JT’s for happy hour after (and sometimes during) a shitty day at work! We decided to go anyway, and I actually ended up having a pretty good time. But when I tried to close my tab, they couldn’t find my credit card. Instead, they found a receipt with my name on it and a signature that wasn’t mine! The bartender apologized for giving someone else my card and gave me two free drink tokens for the mishap. Yeah, just because I occasionally drink my lunch there doesn’t mean that two free drink tokens makes up for losing my card… especially since the person they gave my card to used it to pay for their food at Taco Fiesta afterward! FML.
I knew it was a bad omen when we saw that trashy girl at the bar with the dead black front tooth!
Going to Superbrows and letting someone besides Rosie thread your eyebrows is like going to to Viva Brazil and letting someone other than Linda wax your vagina—it’s social suicide!
Rosie is on vacation for two weeks, so I opted to get waxed at my old stomping ground, Vivid Nails. Tiffany wasn’t available, so I let some random woman wax my eyebrows. What was I thinking? She made them crazy thin, didn’t shape them, left a bunch of strays, and the worst part… she kept blowing on my face when she had clearly eaten KFC right before she waxed me. I had to hold my breath the entire time! And now I have to fill in my eyebrows till they start growing back. Boo whore.
It was pretty much the worst decision I’ve made all year. And I’ve made a number of bad decisions this year, so that’s saying a lot.
I’ve had Young the Giant’s In the Open Sessions on rotation all summer, but I’m pretty sure I’ll still be listening to them this fall. And next winter. And when I’m on social security.
After the Bon Iver show last night, Jessie and I met up with Shi, Christine and Antonio at The Local and drank away our sorrows till last call. And then we ate our feelings at Lucha Libre. And then we went home alone and cried ourselves to sleep.
I won’t be able to make it, but there’s a “Party in Pink” zumbathon this weekend that benefits Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Research! Details here if you want to join the party. Dancer’s body optional.
Trace and I got STACKED after work today! Yes, that’s an iPad. And sweet potato fries. And a pretzel bun. And a sunny side up egg. And an ice cream cookie sandwich. And my stretchy pants*
Jessie was able to score us free tickets to SD Beer Fest last night! Shi was the least drunk, but managed to spill the most beer. And had a hard time remembering anything this morning. So… pretty much a regular day for her. Ha.
It probably wasn’t the best idea to drive on gas fumes yesterday. Or offer to give my stranded coworker a ride home when we got off early. Or blast my air conditioning while sitting in traffic for 45 minutes because all the lights were out.
During The Great Blackout of 2011, I was stuck at Anthony’s house with an empty gas tank thinking, This is who I’m spending the end of the world with??? Ha.
Things I learned during the blackout:
Don’t wait till your gas light turns on to fill up
Anthony washes his face with Aveeno Skin Brightening Daily Scrub
All you need in an emergency situation is a bottle of wine, a gas grill, and a friend who knows how to cook
Pammie came down this weekend, so I had a lazy Saturday with her watching movies and making homemade ice cream sandwiches.
I was eating a cookie fresh out of the oven when a scorching chocolate chip fell out of it and burned my bare thigh! Pammie’s response? “And this is why we wear pants…”
