Movin' On Up!

Hey there internet community!!! How in GOD'S name are you? Haven't talked to you in a minute! Things have been moving a mile a minute for me these days (and not just with regards to my bowels even though that's also true). My tenure as resident "most attractive man of Little Armenia" has come to a sobering end as I have moved on to my new home in Highland Park. So I've traded my Armenian neighbors for Mexicans. Their skin color is comparable but they drive way slower and have a much less visible mafia presence (is that insanely racist? Haha probably). I have made the leap to shack up with our beloved David Osenbach. For those readers who aren't familiar with this specimen, just Wikipedia "Adonis" and imagine glasses on that thing and a much more nuanced and sophisticated palate for wine. SO far it's been a pretty fly time. The neighborhood is two tons of fun (not unlike my sagging gut which is housing a 9lb mass of local taco truck meat at any given moment). I think the notion of the "Freshman Fifteen" is really ringing true again as me and the D-man are on a stampeding campaign to sample every restaurant in a 5 mile radius of our new place. Which, while a fun and delicious experience, is becoming rather taxing on my belt. Putting that thing on every day is no longer a "cinch" (get it?).

So anyhow, much of my time is dedicated to fixing up the new house. But ok, to get totally real on you, MOST of my time is dedicated to sitting on the couch watching Roseanne saying "there's so much that needs to be done. We should make a list of things. Eh, later...oh, Darlene. They give her the best lines. Oh are you getting up? Can you refill my wine glass? Oh, really? Then let's open up a new one..." etc. We HAVE made some significant progress though. I mean, not to brag, but we now have not only a TV and a couch but ALSO a fridge (be jealous. Just do it). I'll be sure to update this blog as the rest of the place comes together.

However this weekend we are taking a little break from furnishing a home as we are heading to New York! I'm embarrassed to say that I've actually never been to New York. I'm a poor, POOR representation of my "white suburban kid" demographic, I know. But I'm super stoked. However, there is one MINOR hitch. There is this really pesky hurricane just slithering it's way up the coast towards the city RIGHT when we're slated to arrive. So, that's fab. All I keep imagining is that footage of Al Roker trying to keep his footing while a team of people try to steady him during that gnarly hurricane some years ago. Although I know, I know, that's not gonna be me. Because obviously I'd dress way better. Although to be totally honest I'm more concerned with having a rocky flight than anything else. Fear of flying is something I always forget I have until I'm physically on a plane, which is great. So, like clockwork it shakes out like this: "Alright, it's time to board. Yay! San Francisco here I come...oh, this seat is comfy. Wait, why am I sweating and panting like Tony Soprano over here? How come my asshole is clenched shut like a steel trap? Damnit that's right!!!! Flying scares the bejesus out of me!!! WHAT WAS THAT NOISE!? Oh dear lord the engine just blew I knew it!". You get the picture. So, luckily I had the foresight this time to call up my good friend, let's call her Daisy (you know who you are), to hook a punk up with an ass-load of Xanax. My goal is to coat all the anxiety of the flight in that warm, comforting cotton-ball opiate glaze that kicks in just after take-off! So, I'm all set! I may not be able to lift any of my luggage once I arrive because I'll be so doped out but que sera, right?

So, regardless of whatever torrential curve-balls mother nature can hurl at us, I'm happy as a damn clam about this trip. We have plans up the yang for this one. David's got an Excel spreadsheet going like we may never see the light of day again. We're going to see the Lion King which I'm super excited about. I haven't seen live theater in the better part of a decade (I think that last time was a stage production of the Wizard of Oz with my grandmother, I'm not even kidding). Hopefully I can put aside my feelings for Julie Taymor for a night. Although I may need to make some kind of vigilante statement like covering a 'Titus' DVD in poo and throw it on stage while on fire. We'll see, I'll play it by ear. We're also checking out this nutty looking restaurant called WD50 where they do things like fill a condom with fish-scented air and pop it at your table before your entree. Or something. I don't quite know what they do there but it sounded wild. And of course we're going to museums, and seeing ground zero etc. etc. whatever. And because we're real, we're staying in Park Slope at a Super 8. No frills, folks! Well, except the ones on that frisky lingerie that I have saved for a rainy day (which looks to be abounding back east). Regardless of how the trip goes, though, I'll be combining some of my all time favorite things: having an excuse to eat like a pig, drink like a fish that doesn't have to drive anywhere, NOT be at work, and sleep on a bed with caked on semen from hundreds of strangers (kidding..........).

So I will be sure to keep all y'all posted about the rousing adventures of this trip! Unless I'm swept into the ocean by a stiff wind, which, you know, probs won't happen! I'll write you all postcards (not really, get over it)! Be well, urrybody!

Twenty-High-Five

**Disclaimer: This should have been posted nearly a month ago when, you know, my birthday actually happened. Pardon the delay**

It's funny, I just turned yet another year older and I really don't feel any different. Actually, that's not true. I feel bloated and hungover but that's a whole different kettle of sweaty, red-faced fish. This Labor day weekend I celebrated my 25th birthday! Or, as I've been saying, I gave life a twenty(-high)-five. I must say, the stars really kind of aligned to give way to a rather perfect time. The fact that my birthday fell on a Friday before a 3-day weekend was pretty boss already. But on top of that, I hopped in my car that morning and my commute to work suddenly shot down from nearly 2 hours to 40 minutes which basically made me want to pour a glass of cold water over my face and do the Charleston across the 110 (I didn't, though because the Charleston is totally over). Then I get to work and I got a flurry of lovely little Birthday greetings. Most of which were a terse "Happy Birthday" but all that activity simulated the feeling of being popular so I was down like Chinatown. Since I had arranged a half day, I was able to tear outta there at noon and head on home! Me and David decided to spend the day by going to Huntington Gardens in Pasadena. Holy smokes, that place is CARRAZZZZYYY. That succulent garden looked like some gloriously desaturated Seussian dreamworld! Thank god I was able to keep it totally real in my t shirt with a hotel logo and my shorts and long socks and a Nikon camera, in no way resembling a pathetic tourist of course. That place just had EVERYTHING: succulents, lilly ponds, rose gardens, Japanese gardens, Chinese gardens you name it! The only hitch was that this joint closes at 5pm on weekdays. Fucking 5pm?? I'm sure the clientele skews a bit on the geriatric side of the spectrum but come ON! Some people, like, work during the day. But as abbreviated as our trip may have been, it was still pretty magical (albeit hot...it was seriously fucking hot). We also got balls of rice krispies treats with rainbow sprinkles in them which were rather heavenly.

Then by the time we got home all the pollen and vitamin D got the better of me so I collapsed into a 45 minute nap. Well, 45 minutes by way of 2 hours. When I woke up mr. Osenbach put the finishing touches on my cake! Holy Fuck that thing was a work of art. Being the 87 year old woman I am, I love Fig Newtons...SO, I was presented with a brown sugar brown butter fig newton CAKE with bourbon butter cream frosting. It was like a pile of decadence, dipped in happy, fortified with yes and baked in OMFG. So once that was boxed up, we were off to the restaurant for the more formal dinner setting with only my CLOSEST friends. That exclusive gauntlet of dignitaries and luminaries that I call my besties. We went to Maximiliano, which is a bomb-ass Italian joint in my new hood. It was a blast! Although we were sat at the "communal table" int he middle which was this L-shaped banquet table number. This proved to be a smidge awkward because I was at the center but I was situated in between the two halves of the table so I felt like I was entertaining questions at a press release. Dinner was fabulous, per usual, and then it was off to Verdugo Bar for some more unruly fun.

I was almost 40 minutes late to my own birthday party which was a total statement and not at all tacky/rude on my part. There was a good turn out though! I got to shoot the shit with all sorts of people and get drunker and drunker and drunker as the night went on. Birthday parties are always kind of weird because even though they're obviously totally fun, I get so jacked up on adrenaline at the notion that 5+ people are stoked that I was born and then I drench that sensation in alcohol so I turn into a jittery mess come midnight! And of course it's a meeting of different circles of friends so I have to make the rounds and ensure every party is enjoying themselves and not regretting they came. I've also noticed that whatever notion of time I may have completely gets thrown out the window on Birthdays. Realistically I was at the bar for a good 3 hours but if you had said "dude, you showed up for 40 minutes and then peaced it" I would have totally believed you. So I got to see lots of lovely people and have a real bitchin time. The taco truck we stopped by on the way home was I'm sure delicious but my bowels the next day were, ummm, not.

Now, if you thought the weekend excitement was over for me then you are just sorely mistaken. The rest of the weekend was dedicated to FYF! So first off I gotta say: I DO NOT LIKE MUSIC FESTIVALS. The music is fine of course but it's as if every thing I hate is thrown into one bubbling stew of Brett-Bummer. Crowds? Hate 'em. Heat? Hate it. White chicks in headbands and moccasins? Hate 'em. Etc. I mostly ended up going because everyone else seemed to be going and I just pretended it was a special birthday festival for me :) The whole thing turned out to be pretty alright though. I think my favorite part was the notion that I could hop on the train and be there in 10 minutes.The only thing that seriously chapped my ass was that the will-call line was an hour long. I could hear the faint jangly murmurs of the Pains of Being Pure at Heart echoing from the across the street as I stood in a 3 mile line overhearing rich white kids in their 20s pour over Burning Man this year. But once I was in it was pretty swell. And after last year's expired ID-no drinking fiasco, I was very glad to be able to enjoy my $8 Bud Light.

Aaaaaanyway, so my recent birthday weekend ultimately went off without a hitch! And now I embark on a new year of being alive. Let's hope this one continues to be something that doesn't suck!