I had a positively wonderful 4th of July a few weeks ago. I attended a roof top party with my room mate Noel. I drank & ate, but mostly drank. I enjoyed the summer sun, the incredible view, & the company of strangers.
At the end of the night I was ready to go, which apparently meant nothing to the cab company that was backed up for hours. After watching Charlie's Angels for about 5 minutes on Noel's boyfriend's couch I got the bright idea to walk home from Hermosa Beach to Redondo Beach. I went outside & a brighter idea came to me, hijack the Domino's delivery truck. Without a second thought I hopped in the front seat & waited. A stunned darling Mexican man got in a minute later. I begged for a ride home, pleading what I am sure was an obnoxious case. He told me he was happy to take me home but we had to make a couple of stops. Girardo & I became fast friends between deliveries & sooner than I knew it we were at 232 N Juanita. I will likely never see Girardo again, but I won't forget his kindness.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
For Her Eyes Only
It is my understanding that my audience primarily consists of my dedicated sorority sisters & there are likely two potential male readers. To those two, stop reading. This post is for her eyes only. Seriously. Stop.
Last week after exhaustive talk & questioning I decided to get my first Brazilian. This is extremely personal of course, but I feel that as a part of the healing process I need to share my story.
Upon arrival at the spa I was led to the pretty little room where I've been getting my brows done for months. Little did I know this quaint room was actually a torture chamber. My miniature Chinese torturess came in & instructed me to drop trou without so much as a hello. I tried to break the ice by cracking jokes, some of my top shelf material. She looked as though she hadn't smiled in at least 30 years, & made it clear she wasn't planning on starting today.
Without hesitation I can honestly say this was one of the most painful experiences of my life. Tears were swimming in my eyes & I was sweating like Tom Vaughn walking around the block. The torturess made my gynecologist seem like Santa Claus. I can assuredly say that she was getting a kick out of the supreme pain I was in. She is lucky she didn't get a kick in the head. My legs were uncontrollably flailing about. When I would whimper or yelp she would repeatedly say "almost done." She told me she was almost done about 37 times before I asked to her please stop saying it.
After she finished the basement she wanted to work on the back door. With tears in my eyes I said "no one goes back there, let's skip it."
The part I really can't get over is that I paid her to do that to me. I gave her cash money for that abuse. In my head she should be supplying me with some sort of compensation. A muffin basket perhaps?
Last week after exhaustive talk & questioning I decided to get my first Brazilian. This is extremely personal of course, but I feel that as a part of the healing process I need to share my story.
Upon arrival at the spa I was led to the pretty little room where I've been getting my brows done for months. Little did I know this quaint room was actually a torture chamber. My miniature Chinese torturess came in & instructed me to drop trou without so much as a hello. I tried to break the ice by cracking jokes, some of my top shelf material. She looked as though she hadn't smiled in at least 30 years, & made it clear she wasn't planning on starting today.
Without hesitation I can honestly say this was one of the most painful experiences of my life. Tears were swimming in my eyes & I was sweating like Tom Vaughn walking around the block. The torturess made my gynecologist seem like Santa Claus. I can assuredly say that she was getting a kick out of the supreme pain I was in. She is lucky she didn't get a kick in the head. My legs were uncontrollably flailing about. When I would whimper or yelp she would repeatedly say "almost done." She told me she was almost done about 37 times before I asked to her please stop saying it.
After she finished the basement she wanted to work on the back door. With tears in my eyes I said "no one goes back there, let's skip it."
The part I really can't get over is that I paid her to do that to me. I gave her cash money for that abuse. In my head she should be supplying me with some sort of compensation. A muffin basket perhaps?
Monday, July 5, 2010
NYC, OMG!
Jenny & I had an extraordinary mini vaca in New York City last week. The readers digest version goes something like: champagne, red wine, hookah, mojitos, sangria, hotdogs, hangover, repeat.My friend Rich was kind enough to vacate his Upper West Side apartment so Jenny & I could live the grand life at a price we could afford-free.
Jenny learned a lot of important NYC lessons, such as the danger of texting & jay walking, how to use the NYPD as a taxi service, pee in the street, etc. A very successful trip all in all.
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