this post is full of complaining. you have been warned.

This weekend, suffice to say, was not one for the books.

It wasn't horrible by any means. It was fun, a lot of fun actually. It included funk music in the park, while drinking champange and having barefoot dance-offs. Hanging out with S while she's hopped up on Darvocet and verbally abusing Costco employees. Then subsequently locking her purse and keys in the trunk. Upside? I got to use my AAA membership for the first time, and it wasn't in a situation where my life felt threatened. Oh, and I was introduced to what I now believe to be one of the greatest shows ever created, Deadwood. Seriously, two episodes in and I am HOOKED. My vocabulary however, is worse than it ever has been. And I didn't think that was possible.

But I didn't get anything done that I really needed to, unless you count spending 3 hours in Forever 21 trying to find a black and white dress that a) wasn't patterned and b)didn't completely scream SKANK as being productive. 3 hours it took me to find a dress that matched that very specific criteria and THEN, they don't have my size. Of course they wouldn't because that would just be too easy. So what's a girl to do?

I buy the size smaller than what I usually wear, and just vow not to eat for a week and not breathe the day that I have to wear it. Because, you know, not sleeping plus not eating plus enough anxiety to kill about 100 people is the perfect equation for a lovely vacation.

Oh, vacation. Speaking of the thing that's happening in oh, about 35 hours and I have not yet done one single thing for. Not one. I guess maybe because the more I put off preparing, the less I thought about it. The less I stressed about it. Oh wait, until it's the night before and I realize I have done NOTHING. And then the anxiety shoots up through the roof trying to get everything done and then I have a heart attack and die.

Following through with my preparation, has never quite been a strong point of mine.

So tonight, I have to do laundry. Fold. Pack. Clean. Download movies onto my iPod. See my Grandma. Fix a purse that I want to take with me. Squeeze in a trip to Target. Did I mention I'm running on about oh, 11 hours of sleep in the last 72 hours?

At least that means I'll probably get everthing on my list done!

Psssh, and people say that I'm a pessimist? Please.

pacific natives.

Things I learned this weekend:

- The older I get, the more I should listen to my body. As in if I know that I'm more than just a little lactose intolerant, making cookies and drinking a huge glass of milk will ultimately end in complete and utter destruction of my digestive system. FOREVER.

- Reading Stephen King novels will always, and I mean ALWAYS, give me intense nightmares. Once you've read Pet Cemetary and It, the damage will NEVER BE UNDONE.

- Namaste Yoga is much, MUCH easier with a bottle of wine under my belt.

- Eating an excessive amount of Sour Patch Kids makes you feel like your tongue was raped by sandpaper. Multiple times.

- Taking a hike, barefoot, makes me feel like a complete bad-ass.

Oh and this sight:



will never, ever fail to make me week in the knees. I live here, in this beautiful place. Even after two years, I still just can't believe it.

takeover, the breaks over.

I thought that a weekend to myself would help me decompress and clear my mind, and it did. A little bit. No responsibilities, no commitments, no effort, no desire to do anything but lay on my couch and exist for a little while. Do exactly what I want to do. Not answer to anyone. Not deal with anyone or their problems. Or mine, I guess. Just merely, exist.

My car sat in the same spot for two days.

I turned my phone off. I didn't put on a stitch of makeup. Didn't take off my glasses, and didn't change out of some form of pajamas. I marathoned Law and Order: SVU, and made myself pancakes. Did laundry, listened to music as loud as I wanted, danced in the kitchen as I loaded the dishwasher.

Slowly but surely, I began to feel human again. Like me, again. Something that I'm afraid I've been losing touch with, especially within the last week. I've been feeling overloaded with everything, and it's like there's a short-circuit in my brain somewhere and my capability of dealing with anything has plummeted to absolutely nothing. Every waking moment was a struggle to keep the tears at bay, the sobs held back in my chest. It was a chore to get up, to put one foot in front of the other and to keep my eyes open through the day. For what reason? I haven't a clue. It just needed to go away, that's the one thing I could say with certainty.

So, I ran.

Whether it was the side-effects of not leaving my house for 48 hours or too much sleeping or just not being quite ready to start another week and have it turn out like the last, I'm not sure. But I've never really been one to just get up and go for a run so when 11pm rolled around, and there was no inkling of sleep in my near future (and my gym not opening for another couple hours), I pulled on a sweatshirt and shoes and just left.

Okay, in hindsight, this = not a great idea. I know. It's late, I have no form of identification on me, no one knew where I was and my neighborhood isn't really high up there on my list of "safest places in town" right now and my current track record of almost being raped / abducted isn't the greatest.

But I just needed to hear it. Everything that wasn't in my head.

The rustling of wind, cars driving by, the faint sounds of people staying up late and watching television. The panting of my breath and my lungs were fighting to expand and contract coupled with the slamming of my heart against my ribcage to try and keep up and give me what I needed to continue. The slap-pound-slap of my shoes on pavement was oddly the most calming sound I've heard in a long time, and by focusing on that, I felt better. So when I wanted to quit, when my mind started to wander to anything else, I'd focus on that to bring me back to the present. And it worked.

Getting up this morning wasn't as difficult as it has been. My eyes wern't as heavy (despite the 2am eventual bedtime) and breathing, just breathing, felt easier. Maybe it was the weekend, maybe the run, I don't know. But I already have a better feeling about this week. Bring it on.

all we need are good friends, cold nights we will not forget.

The Setting: 4:30, Friday afternoon. I'm sitting at my desk cruising Facebook working and up pops the most glorious thing I've ever seen:

"Cayucos house is empty for the next few days. Girls weekend? You in?"

...UM, HOW IS THIS EVEN A QUESTION?

I may hate the ocean (too cold, too vast, and well, SHARKS LIVE THERE) but I absolutely adore the beach. Living here gives me access to a plethora of beach towns yet, I never seem to fully appreciate and experience them. Nor do I get to spend a full weekend there in the cutest house I've ever seen FOR FREE.



SERIOUSLY. Is that not just the cutest thing? I think I squealed in delight when I pulled up and was met with that. And that was just the beginning.

The rest of the weekend cruised by in a haze of sun, sand, booze, girl talks, staying up way too late listening to the ocean, mid-day naps, indulging in too much food, laughing until my stomach hurt, shopping and an amazing impromptu Beach Vacation playlist, put together by yours truly. I'm not one to pat myself on the back (too often, anyway) but seriously. This kind of came together in a mismash of ways. Started with some songs, lost and added some along the way. I've been listening to them non-stop since I got back into the real world on Sunday and they take me back every time.

I already miss this view.



1. Florence + The Machine - Dog Days Are Over
2. The Clash - Rudie Can't Fall
3. Mumford & Sons - Little Lion Man
4. Stars - I Died So I Could Have You
5. Marina and the Diamonds - Oh No
6. Lissie - Little Lovin'
7. Josh Ritter - Empty Hearts
8. Feist (Feat. Ben Gibbard) - Train Song
9. Jack Savoretti - No One's Aware
10. The Guggenheim Grotto - Everyman
11. The Avett Brothers - If It's The Beaches
12. Bon Iver - Skinny Love

[ed. note: the massive 2am living room dance party had a much more shameful playlist. But, believe you me, the shame was so worth it.]

this weekend, briefly.

I think this photo pretty accurately depicts this weekend. The Mid-State Fair started last week and Saturday was the first night I braved the masses and went face-to-face with the freaks that come out of the woodwork for this fair. Seriously, I don't know where they come from. Some other planet, I imagine. Or hope.

I went to experience Morris Day and the Time live (and for FREE, score!) and, experience I did. Hands down, one of the best shows I've been to in a very long time. And at one point in the second show (and in my ridiculously overpriced $7 beer drunken stupor) I looked up on stage to realize that the one and only, amazing, Auntie S was shaking her groove thang ON THE STAGE WITH MORRIS DAY.

Screaming does not even begin to cover the epically monumental freakout that ripped from my body and out of my mouth at that moment, because it was truly THAT FREAKING AWESOME.

Let's just say I woke up the next day with a voice that teetered between Miley Cyrus and Fergie. Thus, my life was not awesome.

And that brings us back to the picture. The next morning, Cowgirl Cafe for breakfast. Being filled in on my drunken antics from the night before, wearing the same outfit from the night before (note: drunk laundry is so not my thing) but still smiling. The wrath of the Mid-State Fair was not lost on me because I PREVAILED!

I also managed to see Despicable Me in 3-D and tag team babysit Magatron. Pretty successful weekend, I'd say.

face meltingly cute.

Summer has finally decided to actually show up, and we’ve been stuck in a Dante’s Inferno-esque Hell for the last week and then some. I’m talking the “I-don’t-want-to-leave-my-house-because IT’S SO HOT I WANT TO DIE” weather. Saturday morning for example, I’m freshly showered and in my car making the 7 minute drive from my house to my Aunt’s. Let me emphasize, SEVEN MINUTES. In the whole seven minutes, my body managed to completely sweat out every ounce of lotion I had just put on post-shower. I felt like I had mixed-up my bottle of Jergans with a bottle of Astroglide and smeared it all over my body. Seriously. And that type of mixup hasn’t happened in… well, a really long time. Let's just leave it at that.

The only saving grace are the nights. Around 7, things start to cool down and pave the way for a perfect and glorious summer evening. On Friday’s, this means that Music in the Park downtown is the place to be. There’s something about sitting around with friends (and family), listening to live music, snacking and drinking in public.

Yeah, I can’t lie. The whole drinking in public thing is my favorite part.

However, surprise appearances by babies name Maggie totally trump the whole drinking thing.

america!!1!!1

I didn't have concrete plans but at some point I slipped into something red, white and blue (well, white and blue. my iPhone case was red) to be respectful and headed out. I ended up at Templeton Park with these fine ladies for a little while where they promptly ordered me to put on red lipstick to "complete my patriotism". We were all dressed in blue bottoms and white tops with red lipstick...and no, we didn't plan that. Not that it's easy to avoid considering everyone dresses in the trinity of colors but I just feel like that needed to be pointed out.

The afternoon continued with beer and good talks with friends and evening ended with a quiet dinner and personal fireworks display at the George's. All in all, a pretty mellow Fourth but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

I'd probably be considered horribly un-American. It's not that I don't love my country but, I just don't get all crazy over the Fourth of July. I hate fireworks (too loud!) and I usually spend at least one day a weekend drinking anyway so, it's not all that special to me. However, it is nice to see people come together to celebrate the "birth of a nation" (yeah, I gagged just typing that fyi).

Though my one patriotic contribution throughout the day? Quoting "Team America" of course. My personal favorite? "America, FUCK YEAH!"

short weekend update.

This weekend flew by in kind of a blur. It was the first in two weeks that I didn't go out of town, so it was pretty uneventful.

Friday night consisted of getting gussied up with B and going out to dinner, which is always fun. Saturday was spent watching the World Cup while hanging out at Flyin' G Ranch, and sharing a bottle of the most delicious Chardonnay I've ever had. Which I suppose really isn't that hard to say considering I detest most white wines. Sunday brought ridiculously hot weather of which I escaped by going to San Luis and hanging out with the George's. Lunched at Firestone and got Maggie-time. Pretty solid day if you ask me.

As I was laying in bed last night, I found this on my phone:



I think my heart stilled for a minute. I stopped breathing, and tears pricked at my eyes. It's probably the best photo I've ever taken, iPhone quality or not. I absolutely love everything about it.

weekend in pictures.

Friday morning I recieved a demand invitation via text to take a little girls-only day trip with M-Squared to Santa Ynez on Saturday for Live Oak 2010. Considering it's pretty much just one huge group of people hanging out, listening to music and drinking / eating all day...of course I wasn't going to turn that down. I've never been (and neither had Maggie) so we had our first Live Oak experiences together! S and K were already set up there camping for the weekend, so it was all good. If I had any outdoors-y bone in my body (or, a badass RV maybe) I'd totally be down for camping. But since I don't sleep outside, use port-a-potties or function in any way without electricity...keeping it to a day trip is where it's at. I'm no Bear Gryllis is all I'm sayin'.



The only bummer? Josh Ritter was playing on Sunday night. I knew this going in, and had kind of succommbed to the fact that I wasn't going to be able to see him so I didn't let it ruin my day. Positive thinking? Maybe. Though I'm sure the 12 beers I slammed had something to do with said "positive thinking" as well.



On Sunday, I saw Toy Story 3 (in 3-D) with B. Who is 22 years old and sobbed her way through pretty much the whole last half of the movie? THIS GIRL. I'm borderline embarassed for myself but IT WAS SO SAD. Who would have thought I'd be able to relate so much to a Pixar movie. NOT ME.

We then went over to our friend Alicia's to hang out and pretty much decided that Sunday's are now going to be pot-luck dinners with everyone. This idea excites me way more than it should, given that I don't cook...ever. Yeah, I'm that girl who obsesses over Rachael Ray (and uh, has had a subscription to her magazine since it first came out) It's not that I don't like to, I'm just horribly lazy and never do. However, I did get down on cutting those carrots and tomatoes for that salad though. My backlog of issues of ED w/ RR will sure come in handy this summer, I think.

But Monday, oh glorious and wonderful Monday. Normally, I hate the day. And this one didn't start off any differently, other than the fact I had to get up earlier than usual to water plants and ended up SHOOTING MYSELF IN THE FACE with the hose. I honestly don't think there's any scenario in the world that's a worse way to be forced to wake up. And this was pre-coffee too so, let's just imagine how well that went over for a second... It's was UGLY.

So, flashforward. I'm driving to work, still flaming pissed / hating the world for the cruel wakeup call I recieved two hours earlier (because you know, it's the UNIVERSE'S FAULT for leaving the hose upturned from the previous morning) and I'm just about to get on the freeway when I see the George's getting off the freeway and motioning for me to turn around and pull over. So, I do. And greet them with some sort of horribly sarcastic and rude remark because again, it was all Kevin's fault I got shot in the face because they were HIS plants that I was watering. The conversation went something like this:

K: "We have something for you"
S: "Yeah, we couldn't wait to give it to you."
Me: "It better be like, 'you got Josh Ritter's phone number for me' good considering I got up early to water your plants this morning and took a shot from the hose STRAIGHT TO THE FUCKING FACE."

I honestly don't know how people can even stand to be around me sometimes, with my charming and polite demeanor and everything.

But then, oh THEN, they pull out this little number:



...and I just started screaming. I mean SCA-REAM-ING. Full on, jabbering incoherantly, can't get out of my car because the door is locked and I don't realize it, OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD SHUT UP. IS THIS HAPPENING BECAUSE THIS CAN'T BE REAL LIFE, I THINK I MIGHT BE DEAD.

Total and complete freak-out ensued. In public. At 8:30 in the morning. And I DIDN'T EVEN CARE. Hearing them talk about his set (it was amazing, he was so good) and how NICE Josh was to all his fans (he's a big hugger apparently, shoot me now) was just awesome. And how they both knew they'd have to go over and get him to sign something for me. It's just, really cool. I didn't expect it and I'm just glad that even if I couldn't be there, they could be to appreciate how awesome this guy is. I can't thank them enough for thinking of me that night.

Suck on that, Monday.

the post in which I have an Oprah moment.

Saturday started with a 6am wake-up call to meet Bethany, Chelsea and Monique and drive up to SJC to drop Chelnique off so they could go on their Rufus-Fest 2010 in good ol' Canada. [Fun fact: they were flying from SJC to DTW and going into Windsor. My old stomping grounds! Made me a bit nostalgic] So, after we dropped them off, B and I made our way to Santa Cruz for a little while. Other than wanting to die driving to get there (I still don't do well on windy, mountain-esque roads. Don't do well meaning NEED TO PUKE) it's was beautiful. Found an estate sale, saw downtown, had lunch while watching the USA vs. England game, and went thrifting. On our way home, we stopped in Gilroy and hit a Salvation Army when I found a new knit dress THAT HAS POCKETS. FOR FIVE DOLLARS. Needless to say, it was a pretty successful day trip.

...other than the fact that I was so tired when I got home, I felt like I was stoned. No seriously, even a dinner of In N' Out didn't register on the delicious scale when I ate it. All I could think of was the cool underside of my pillows and when I finally did get home it was faceplant into bed, clothes still on and didn't stir until about 10:30 the next morning. Glorious bed! OHMYGODI'MNEVERGOINGTOLEAVEYOUEVERAGAIN BED!

However, the fact that it was about 90 degrees outside, and I was laying in a nest of sweat and drool when I woke up the next morning (AT TEN THIRTY) meant that I needed to get the hell out of dodge and oh, you know, HAVE to go down to San Luis and while I'm down there, just HAPPEN to see Maggie. And when I say "see" I really mean spend the whole day hanging out. It was fun, as it always is.

I really cherish the relationship I'm building with Megan at the same time. It's funny to think that, aside from a few (maybe two) visits to Michigan and two trips here...we didn't really know each other. Now that I'm here and she's here (and um, my incessant need to see her and Maggie just about every weekend) we can finally hang out and get to know each other. I've always said that one of the best things about me moving here was the fact that I could finally get to know this side of my family that I really didn't know for the greater part of my life. Now that they're in my life (or, they allow me to be in theirs, whichever way you look at it) I can't picture them NOT being in it. I constantly learn more about them and our relationships always seem to be enriched and growing. And have I mentioned how much I love being a part of it? Yeah, that horrible noise heard from the rooftop? That was me screaming how much I love it.

Or, it was me scream laughing in a drunken stupor...both scenarios are very likely.

Ok, that's the end of my "ohmygod my family is so cool" Oprah / Dr. Phil ramble. SOMEONE GET THIS GIRL SOME TISSUES, PLEASE.

Oh wait:

This works just fine.

weekend del sol.

Summer is here.

Don’t get me wrong. I love, LOVE Summer. If I could throw a Bradley Cooper-esque face and body on it and wrap it up in an Armani suit, I would marry it. Everything about it, pretty much rules but lets be honest: it really just gives me ample opportunity to justify why I feel the need to drink at least three times a week and allows me to wear cute summer dresses while doing so. Yeah, I may be that vain. Only a little though.

HOWEVER, there is only little issue that has arisen...

SUMMER, WHERE IN THE HELL DID YOU COME FROM?

Ok, I live in California. I get that. It gets hot, H-O-T, hot here. Accepted. But we went from 70 degrees to 100 in less than a day and it’s been like this for a week. A WHOLE WEEK OF 100 DEGREES ALREADY. Need I remind Mother Nature that it is only the SECOND WEEK OF JUNE. I am not equipped to handle living in the fiery pits of hell quite yet, as I thought we would get a gradual warm up. Something to ease us into the blistering summer months that we all know and detest (and maybe sometimes secretly love) but nope. We get raped by M.N. herself. Thanks a lot, bitch.

Whatever. I got a new dress out of it. And decided that when it gets too hot to stay up here, I’ll drive down to San Luis where it’s cooler and I get to see this face:



Yeah, I don’t think that’ll bother me too much. And by that I mean NOT AT ALL because just, LOOK AT THAT FACE.

dream a little dream

I got to spend a good chunk of the weekend with that cute face (sans bink, sometimes) and I think I went a little bit overboard with the photos on Saturday but I'm blaming it on my newfound love for the Hipstamatic App for my iPhone. No seriously, the possibilities seem to be endless and I can't stop taking them. It just so happens that Maggie is the perfect subject to test it out on since, if it's not obvious, I can't stop taking pictures of her anyway. So I'm putting them all in a seperate set on my Flickr. But who could resist this face?

I always laugh because she looks SO SERIOUS in most of the photos I take. But I've realized that it's just due to the fact that when she smiles and is generally being the most adorable thing in this whole world, I lose control over all brain functions other than squeeing, laughing, smiling and planting kisses all over those perfect cheeks! To even think about trying to snap a photo in those moments is hilarious because you know, I'm trying to remind myself to keep breathing and not die. And while this girl has perfected the serious face, she also smiles and grins and drools all the time...and it is absolutely my favorite thing in the whole world.

My second favorite thing that I really probably love just as equally?

Holding her while she sleeps for so long, my arm falls asleep and shoulder starts to burn. But not realizing it because she's in such a blissful world of awesome baby dreams and I can't look away from the cuteness. I'm only reminded the next day when the ache is still there but I don't mind because it's pretty much the best kind of pain ever. Yes, it does exist.

So, other than going gaga over my Maggie filled weekend, it also included drinks and dancing at the Kilt on Friday night, tequila shots with my roommate on Saturday night for her 21st birthday and the Lost finale last night. The last of which, I am still processing because I haven't quite accepted the fact that it is gone forever. I'm working on that one.