in my closet

The weather's so great today, I'm so excited to bare some shoulders and legs (the less material the better!). After trying on 20 dresses I went back to this one, an old favorite from Urban Outfitters. The best part about this dress is that you never have to iron it, no matter how balled up it's been in the back of the dresser.



I got these feather earrings for $3 at Forever 21. I always get Pocahontas comments when I wear them.

enjoy the sunny weekend!

Amore, it's sunny and 79 degrees here in NYC today and I was planning on going for a bike ride this morning. But I woke up with a bit of a hangover. I know I said I was going to try to drink less- but it was free so I am saving like I said I would! : )

I decided to take in this beautiful day from my roof top. I'm wearing a big floppy hat because I'm vowing to keep my face out of the sun this summer. I ain't getting any younger, you know?


I'm so proud of this yummy little lunch that I made. Tuna salad with mesclun greens, avocado, and balsamic vinaigrette in a whole wheat wrap. Mmmm.



Oh and I made this shake of strawberries, orange juice, and mango sorbet for dessert.



This weekend I don't have any plans aside from going to see Greg Holden with Bionic Woman tonight. Planless weekends are always the best because it leaves plenty of room for me to get into some trouble. hehe. If you're in NYC I hope you're enjoying this lovely weather! baci!

ice cream pinata

I'm debating having a BBQ on my roof deck for my birthday. Wouldn't this mint chocolate chip ice cream cone pinata be great?

doing things

I'm in yet another one of my funks. I took a look at my finances the other day and let's just say it's not how I'd like them to look. And lately, I've been hating everything I'm writing- It's a cycle most writers go through- One minute you think you're typing gold and the next you want to throw it all out, laptop and all.

My birthday is coming up in a month and I tend to do a little self reflection around this time and I'm beating myself up a bit. But giving myself bruises and telling myself I'm a broke, sucky writer isn't going to get me anywhere. I actually need to do something about it, don't I. So up until my birthday I will be on a "Get Your Shit Together" plan. Eating better, drinking less, working out, and writing more. Oh, and I'm not spending a penny (except for subway and groceries) until my birthday. It's just a month. How hard can it be?

(poster via Swiss Miss)

Funny People

I've been wanting to see Funny People since its release last summer but everyone told me it was a pretty depressing movie. I finally got around to watching it last night with The Boy (we're doing ok. I stopped being crazy) and I don't know what everyone was talking about. Adam Sandler plays a famous comedian who finds out he's dying and hires Ira Wright, played by Seth Rogen, to help him write new material and sort out his life. I thought the characters were great, showing that some humor comes from pain, and loved watching the journey of the young struggling comedians, Ira Wright and Leo Koenig, played by Jonah Hill. The jealousy, doubt, and competition reminded me of something my friends and I- as aspiring actors, writers, models, directors- can relate to. Def add this to your Netflix! So many laugh out loud jokes!

Cali diary (San Francisco)

So after we found Hannah, we took a taxi to meet my mom, ate some yummy noodles (again in Thai Town), and set off on our roadtrip to San Francisco. Hannah was a funny random addition in the car. She was in LA visiting our mutual friend, Nick, but loved San Francisco so much that she preferred to return a day early and asked to tag along on our drive. I was more than thrilled to have someone to talk to in the car and we were still giggling over the events of the night before. I was super excited about the drive, I had never been north of LA, and excited to see a new city. Everyone I know raves about how great San Francisco is, including Hannah who claimed it's one of the cities she would consider moving to if she left England.

The car was a little cramped with me, Hannah, my mom, her two friends, and the loads of snacks my mom packed and my hangover wasn't helping much. When we stopped for gas my mom's friend offered to let me drive and have Hannah accompany me in the front. I was thrilled to get out of the backseat and a little excited to drive since I don't get to drive much here in NYC (it's been almost 2 years!). (This decision to drive will later turn out to be a huge mistake).

The drive took about 6 hours total and the views along Highway 5 were beautiful. I was told Highway 1, along the coast, has amazing views but I didn't dare ask my mom if we could drive another 2 hours out of the way. This was a mountain scattered with flowers. It looks like someone spray painted different spots on the mountain.



By the time I reached San Francisco my legs had cramped up and I was a little tired of driving. At this point I was pretty stressed because I am not used to driving and didn't know the way. I also wanted to take in the views more but I had to keep my eyes on the road. We drove straight to the Golden Gate bridge hoping to catch it during sunset (we were still too early).



Here's me and the Thai's. My mom is to the left of me.



After the bridge we drove past it to a viewpoint on a mountaintop. It was getting darker, especially in the shadow of the mountain, and my mom's friend wanted us to turn around. I took my eyes off the road for one second to look at the view when all of a sudden a deer darted in front of the car. I swerved off the road and everyone was screaming in the backseat. I was so startled I had to stop the car to catch my breath. I was so tired at this point and just DONE with driving. We decided to go to Fisherman's Wharf for some dinner. Hannah and I were so hungry and all we wanted was clam chowder in a bread bowl but my mom picked a packed, touristy restaurant. Dinner was nice but the place was definitely a little too touristy for my taste.

Next was a mission to find a place to stay for the night. We were in need of a shower and Hannah and I definitely needed a drink after 6 hours in the car with my mom. Of course when you need a motel you can never find one. We drove around and around until we found Oasis Motel. The elevator had carpeting on its walls and it smelled like wet towels but we booked a room anyway. I cringed when I saw our room. It just felt dirty. There were minimal amenities, no phone, no mini fridge, but that is not where the complaints lie. Again, it had a musty basement smell and all of the furniture looked like it had been acquired from the side of the road. There was a lone cigarette sitting on our bathroom floor. The covers on the bed smelled. We didn't want to take off our shoes to walk on the carpet. After a long, tiring day, this was not the place to unwind and take your shoes off. Ugh. I was so skeeved I just wanted to go to a bar and get a drink and get out of the room. Hannah and I were terrified to walk the motel halls alone. There was a creepy mystery door across from our room that wasn't a numbered motel room.

We googled our motel so that we could find out what bars were nearby and a bunch of reviews of the motel popped up. One star, no stars, red flags, and reviews written in bold and all caps: NEVER STAY AT THIS PLACE! SUCH A RIP OFF! SO GROSS AND DIRTY! GOT BED BUGS!!!!!!!! I scrolled down and review after review warned of bed bugs. That explains all of the old mattresses and bed frames sitting in the parking garage below. Hannah begged me to stop reading. We were already staying there and there was nothing we could do. If you don't read about the bed bugs then they're not really there, are they? We decided to just walk around and find a nearby bar.

The streets were pretty dark and empty. We would reach an intersection and look left and right and guess a direction based on the brightness of lights we saw. After each turn we made it just got worse and worse. Dark streets filled with bums and prostitutes. I had one hand clutching my purse and the other clutching Hannah's arm. "Dude, I live in fucking New York City and I've never been this scared," I told Hannah. "Yeah, I'm a blonde wearing a blazer and pearls. I'm screaming RR right now! Rob and rape me!" I was so incredibly over San Francisco!

We finally found a bar and drank as many drinks as we could squeeze in before 2AM. While talking to Hannah at the bar I began to scratch my legs and my back. I tried to ignore it but I felt so itchy. I finally had to ask Hannah if she felt itchy too. She looked worried but said it's probably just in my head. Ok, I tried to believe her but I was still scratching. I tried to pay attention to the guys that kept coming up to us with the lamest lines ever. I blame Hannah for being a leggy blonde with a British accent. I was the anchor that the wing man had to humor so that his friend could talk to Hannah. haha. Where were all the handsome, successful, eco-friendly men of San Francisco? All we met were lame, unattractive trust fund babies who seemed to be drinking and talking to girls for the first time in their lives. We had a bottle of vodka in our motel room and I told Hannah I preferred to buy some mixers and drink the itch away in the room. Not before we were lured to a strip club and a gross homeless man grazed me in a crowd did she agree.

We woke up the following morning, packed our stuff, and checked the hell out of that place. We drove to Chinatown and had some yummy dim sum for lunch. We went to this intense place where there were tables of non English speaking Chinese and Hannah looked like something out of a "Find What Doesn't Belong" game.



After lunch we drove through the Crookedest Street. I loved the homes on the street but felt bad for the people who live there that have to deal with all the tourists. I mentally apologized for being there.



Sadly, we dropped Hannah off at the airport late afternoon so that she could sort out her flight issues. Her flight back to the UK was cancelled due to the Icelandic volcano eruption. I sulked like a teenager for the remainder of my time. I was just so tired of driving and not getting to see San Francisco the way I wanted to. Later another car hit us while we were in a parking garage and I almost lost it right then and there. San Francisco was like something out of a horror show. One thing after another kept going wrong and I just wanted to go home!

We stayed one more night, visited Alcatraz, and then got the hell out of dodge SF! Alcatraz was awesome by the way. I'm normally not a history buff but I loved following the audio tour and trying to imagine what the lives of the prisoners were like. (It helped that I got to tune out my mom for 2 hours!) I peered into the isolation cells where the prisoners stayed in the dark for 23 hours of their day. I just couldn't imagine being trapped there.





After Alcatraz I drove as fast as I could back to LA. San Francisco was beautiful. I'll give it another try after I get over the trauma of this trip.

peek-a-boo

I finally bought this American Apparel bodysuit that I've been eyeing since the winter. I'd normally wear it with high waisted jeans and a blazer but since I was going clubbing with 21 year olds I felt I needed to show more skin.



Black skirt is also American Apparel.

Cali diary (more LA)

Hannah was quite relieved to be in the company of girls (me and Kate) because she had been staying with Nick and his friends and, well, sometimes you just need a break from the boys. We went through the same getting ready routine again, trying on everything in our suitcases and beating ourselves up for how fat, pale, and old we are. (Haha- does anyone else go through this?) Again, nothing a little vodka and spray tan can't fix.

We chugged some 5 hour energy (again, we are old) and headed out to Rockin' Thai for dinner. Another friend of mine, LA Boy, met us at dinner. Le sigh. LA Boy is one of those guys who is confident and charming and makes you giggle like a little girl when he's around. I met him 2 years ago and he still pops up in my mind every now and then.




After dinner we actually went back to the same club, My House, because we didn't want to drink and drive. The doorman does this thing where he makes you wait outside the door and then he opens it in this grand gesture and says, "Welcome to My House!" as if he was a butler to a castle. Hannah was quite excited but Kate and I were like, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just open the damn door." We had a great night, drinking and dancing, and no one was assaulted on the dance floor. Strength in numbers. Or maybe you just need one 6'3 black man standing with you. Ha.



Kate had to work again in the morning so we had said we would keep the night low-key. You should know from my past blogs that whenever I say I'm having a low-key night it is always anything but. But I tried to keep my promise of not being a bad influence. I left for another party and kissed Kate and Hannah good-bye as they were going back to the hotel.

I returned to The Inn early in the morning and only found Kate  sleeping in her bed. She had 2 more hours to sleep so she mumbled something about how she'll talk to me when she wakes up. I went back to sleep as well. I woke up around 9AM because my mom was calling. She and her friends were picking me and Hannah up to drive to San Francisco at 10AM. I hit "ignore". UM. I turned over to Kate. Where's Hannah? Kate said, well, they ended up going to another party afterwards but then Kate had to leave and she asked for Hannah's number but Hannah didn't have a phone so she left her. UM. My mom was gonna be there in an hour. The following 2 hours was like something out of The Hangover. Kate and I tried to piece together the events of the night before to figure out where she could be. Kate had to leave soon for work and my mom sure as hell was not going to wait around. We had no idea what to do with her bag. Do we leave her? Take her bag? She'd have nothing to wear but her LBD. I kept ignoring my mom's calls. It was the funniest 2 hours ever. We were concerned. A little. But we couldn't stop laughing. The night before the club was playing the Sugar Hill Gang song and we were all jokingly singing, "hotel, motel, Quality Inn," and Hannah had said, "Oh my God, this whole time I was singing Comfort Inn!" I shook my head at her saying the syllables don't even fit! I thought, surely from this funny mistake she would remember the name of our hotel. It turns out, she didn't. She was looking for us at the Comfort Inn.

We eventually found her and I blamed our lateness to meet my mom on finding a taxi (she felt terrible for not picking us up), the taxi guy getting lost (he was offended that we blamed him), and the ever so trusty, LA traffic. Everyone understands when you say, "LA traffic."

Cali diary (LA)

My trip to Cali was fantastic but I sure am happy to be home and sleeping in my own bed again. I originally planned the trip to see my mom who was visiting from Thailand. But then my bestie, Kate, had work in LA the same weekend. And then my friend, Hannah, was on holiday there that same week with her family. And my friend, Nick, from Thailand, lives in Orange County. So it was a trip made of a random group of people. And that's probably the best way to sum up the entire week: Random.

I was excited for a short holiday but also thought it would be a good chance to take a little break from The Boy. Things have been going well but you know when you get to that stage called "The Crazies?" Suddenly I was analyzing everything he was doing and became super insecure and felt like I was doing most of the pursuing. What did I want from him, he asked me. Nothing, was my answer because I really have no idea what I want. He told me from the beginning he wasn't ready for more. I told him from the beginning, neither was I. So what was my problem exactly? What had changed? I think the problem was with myself. I was angry with myself. The statement, "I'm not asking anything of you," has been uttered by me before. It felt strangely familiar. I had "asked nothing" of TA and a few others before him who had my heart. I took what they could give me, never asking for more because I knew they didn't have more. So anyway, I was looking forward to the time away to see what I was really feeling.

My journey to Cali was seemingly getting off on a right start. I got a cheap taxi from my apartment to LaGuardia, had plenty of time to check in, got an aisle seat with an empty seat next to me. I was buckled in and ready to nap the entire way when the pilot came on the speakers, "Folks, looks like we're being held here momentarily. The mechanic said there's something wrong with some door and a thing needs to be brought to fix the thing." UM. My annoyance for the delay was put aside for the fact that our pilot had no idea what the parts of the plane are called. Is he high? I thought. To make it worse, because we were delayed for a while, they decided to let some stand-by passengers on. I suddenly had very unpleasant seat neighbors; a talkative, bratty child, and 2 ghetto parents. During our connection, I bonded with my window seat neighbor over complaints of our new flight mates. He asked if he could call me when we got back to NYC. Hmm...

I arrived in Santa Ana and it felt just like being home when I saw my mom. I was instantly fed and fussed over. The following morning my mom and her two Thai friends drove me to get lunch in Thai Town ( I would seriously move to LA just for this) and then dropped me off at the Beverly Hills Hotel to meet Kate. Kate and I drove straight to Venice Beach because we were desperate for some sun but unfortunately it was still a little too chilly. We met this little cutie, The Flying Lion, when we were walking on the boardwalk. His leash was tied to a skateboard outside of a restaurant while his owner dined inside. I wanted so badly to take him and the skateboard home.



After the beach we went to get dinner at the Farmer's Market in La Cienega. (I would also move to LA for this). We walked around The Grove for a bit and stumbled upon a free Jordin Sparks concert. How random. We hung around for a bit but it was getting late and we still didn't have a place to shower and rest our heads. Facebook status: "Perhaps Kate and I should leave the Jordin Sparks concert and try to find a place to stay for the night." We looked up some places on her iphone and after driving past some sketchy motels in Hollywood we settled on the glamorous Quality Inn. (We can't wait until we make more money so that we could at least afford the Holiday Inn. Sigh). We showered up and tried on a bunch of different outfits. The result? We felt pale, fat,  and old. Yikes. After a few Vodka sodas and a touch of Victoria's Secret spray tan our perception was altered. Damn, we look hot (for our age)!

We headed to My House, a club in walking distance from our hotel motel. For some reason I just felt like I was too old to be there. We drank, we danced, but I threw in the towel when Kate was accosted on the dance floor, being humped from behind, and I was boxed out. (I was also extremely drunk by now). I said to Kate when we stepped outside for air, "Lets find some hot...pockets and heat 'em up in our motel microwave." Kate started laughing, "At first I thought you were gonna say let's find some hot men. Things have definitely changed." Indeed, they have.

The following morning we had brunch at the Omelet Place. (Also, would move to LA for this). Yummms. Kate had a photo shoot in the afternoon so she dropped me off at Venice Beach. Like a dog chained outside a grocery store, I just stared in the direction of her car when she left. I missed my Romy already. It was slightly warmer so I decided to read my book on the beach. I took off my shoes and jeans but it wasn't warm enough for full on bikini so I left on my shirt and leather jacket. I must've looked like I forgot something when I left the house in the morning.

I finally finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy and I highly recommend it. It's a story of a father and son living in a postapocalyptic America and their journey to survive. With all of the end of the world talks lately, I bit my nails throughout the entire book thinking this could be non-fiction some day. I sat there on the beach crying after I finished the book, and still pantsless. I must've looked like I fit right in with the freaks of Venice Beach.



My cute red Vans in the sand.



Some more pics from Venice beach



Finally, my friends, Nick and Hannah arrived. We walked around the boardwalk some more, watched the boys play hacky sack (people still do that?) and skateboard (so hot) and then they dropped us back off at "The Inn" as it was now called.

I love this photo of us.

wind thingies

I've been pretty busy trying to get settled back in. I have some great photos from my Cali trip to go through but here's one for now. It was taken somewhere on Highway 5 on the way to San Francisco from LA. (I thought it kinda looked like something out of Lost. Is that weird?)

I'm back!

Hello hello! I'm back from sunny California. I have so much catching up to do but my internet keeps kicking me off. Sad face. Hopefully I'll be back to posting soon! Missed you all!

Cali bound

I'm heading to California tomorrow morning. My mom is visiting from Thailand and it's been 7 months since I've seen her. My best friend, Kate, is also out there for work and I have friends in LA and Orange County so I'm hoping to make my rounds and see everyone. My mom and I are planning to drive to San Francisco which I'm really excited about since I've never been.

I'll be there for 6 days and I've packed 6 pairs of shoes. I'm definitely becoming a more efficient packer.

summer shoes part 2

So I decided to go with these Vans Authentic Lo Pro Gore instead of the other ones I was looking at. They're slip-ons so I love not having to sit down and tie laces (yes, I'm that lazy) and they're extremely comfortable.

I also want these Vans Zapato Del Barco in navy. (Can you tell I'm on a Vans kick lately?)

my weekend

I feel like I haven't slept since last Wednesday. I was having an early drink with Little One on Saturday when Miss Brit texted me that she was a friend's band's show and there were people dressed as unicorns. I rushed from East Village to Astoria because who doesn't love hanging out with unicorns? LO and I were pretty drunk when we arrived but there definitely were unicorns and robots at the bar. I mean...what the? It was the funniest, most random thing I've ever seen. People were wearing unicorn horns made of aluminum foil and robot outfits. Sober or not, we could not figure out the association with the two. But who cares, right? I stole someone's horn that was laying on the table and danced around with it until I broke it. Miss Brit broke the horn apart and then suddenly starting stuffing its contents in my mouth. Turns out the horns were stuffed with rice krispies treats. What a nice surprise! And then later somehow a random can of whipped cream appeared next to me. Unicorns, robots, and whipped cream. And of course, because I wasn't planning on going out, I didn't have my camera on me. I assure you, it was funny.

On Sunday I went to Jersey to see some of my girlfriends. It was also Thai New Year so we all went to dinner at a Thai restaurant I used to work at when I was in high school. I haven't eaten such good food since my mom moved back to Thailand! After dinner we all went to a local martini bar for the usual, dirty martinis. We were having a great time talking and catching up and were ready to wrap up the night around 12PM since it was Sunday and all. But then suddenly my arm was ripped out of its socket by a man asking forcing me onto the dance floor. And that's when the night went from "just a few drinks" to "I don't know how many martinis I had." Girlfriends, good food, martinis, unicorns, and total randomness are a good combination.

watermelon nails

I was getting some toiletries at Duane Reade today and couldn't resist picking up this Essie polish in Watermelon. It actually comes out darker and more pink that this photo. I rarely wear pink but I'm in love with this shade.

The other thing this photo doesn't show is how red my lips actually are. I had an allergic reaction to Burt's Bees lip balm and my lips are swollen Octo-mom style and super painful!

resident party girl

My biggest fear is...ok well I have a lot of fears...but a fear of mine is becoming that lame girl if when I'm in a relationship. I am still single but the other day, during an awesome Easter bbq, Little One told me she felt she hasn't seen much of me lately because of The Boy. Eeeeeep! I never wanted to be that person. In the past few years the number of single girlfriends I have has been dropping like stripper panties and inevitably I saw each of them less and less. I remember being out at the bars with the few single amigas I had left, vodka glass tipping in my hand, and saying, "I don't get it. I'm still going to want to go out when I have a boyfriend." And with that we clinked our glasses to mark my words.

Conversely, I've also noticed in the past few years that more and more people refer to me as a "party girl" and it didn't sound like a compliment. I wondered, "What makes them think that? Just because I go out a few days a week? Or because my facebook photos are always of parties? I mean, I'm not gonna post pictures of me spending hours at my desk trying to type out my book, am I?" I felt like I was being mislabeled and suspected that the suitors weren't lining up for me because a party girl seems like the antithesis of the "girlfriend type."

A few months ago, a boy named Chapter 9 asked me if I brushed my teeth in the morning with a bottle of Jack, referencing the singer, Ke$ha. He said when he first heard the song, Tik Tok, he thought of me and wondered if I was going to start putting dollar signs in my name. I tried to defend myself, wanting him to see me as girlfriend material. I mean, doesn't everyone wake up feeling like P. Diddy?

Lately though, before The Boy and all the movie nights and snuggles, I began to reassess this party girl label I've been given. After yet another night of returning home while others were heading to work, wearing my shoes on the wrong feet, I thought maybe people had a better vantage point, from the outside looking in. Perhaps I am a party girl. Do I have trouble turning down a drink? Do I dance on any platform that I could balance on in heels? Do I sometimes wake up in another state next to a farm animal? Yes. Yes. Yes. and No. So, I'm always up for a good time. If that makes me a party girl, then so be it.

I recently read the April issue of Maxim where Ke$ha was asked in a interview if she was a party girl. She answered, "That depends. You've got to define 'party girl.' If you mean I'm a walking good time, then hells yeah. But I'm not wasted and stumbling out of clubs and getting DUIs. I'm not that kind of party girl. I may be blonde and fun as balls, but I'm not a moron."

The label, "party girl," has a negative connotation, often confused with "sloppy drunk" or "tranny hot mess." But it doesn't have to be that. Why can't it just be someone who likes to have a good time. And there's nothing wrong with that, right? I've gone out with Little One the past two nights and I woke up in my bed today at 5:30 PM (yes, in the evening), naked, with a Barnes & Noble gift card stuck to my arm. That's right. I'm fun as balls. And you can suck it.

happy birthday, nick!

It's my big brother's birthday today. Sigh. The years just fly by.

PS - Isn't my little nephew the cutest?

having a moment

Warning: I'm about to say something incredibly rude and you can't slap me over the internet.

You know what drives me seriously nuts? When you're standing on line for the dressing room at H&M and you only have 3 items to try on and the line, as it always is, is all the way to the men's department, and everyone in front of you is holding more than the 8 maximum item limit plus accessories that they need to leave with the dressing room lady and then take her away from assigning dressing rooms after they're done because for some reason the employees can never figure out where they stash the accessories that you can't take with you into the dressing room. (How many times did I just use dressing room in one sentence?) Whenever I go to H&M I have to assume that at least 25 minutes will be wasted waiting to try on the clothes and then another 25 on the line to pay. But that's not the part that annoys me. That is time already factored in to my decision to shop at H&M (double that time if I choose to shop at the Herald Square location). What drives me nuts is when you get almost to the front of the line where you're standing in the fitting room area just staring at the doors with the numbers on them, willing them to open, and you see the girls who come out shoeless, half dressed in their own clothes, and half in something with tags, and they're waiting for their friend in another room to come out and help them decide on the item displayed on their body. The culprit, the one who, once she got to the dressing room, magically forgot how long she waited for the room and how there's new people waiting just as long for the room, is usually a teenage girl trying on something that would land her on a Fashion Don't List had she been a celebrity. It's drives me fucking nuts that this person A) is committing crimes against fashion and B) can't make a goddamned decision on what looks bad on her body without wasting everyone's time twirling in front of a 3 way mirror and waiting for her friend's opinion. I just want to scream, "That looks fucking horrible on you, get new friends that won't lie to you, and get the hell out of the dressing room!"

There. I'm sorry. I feel better now.

on writing

"Starting things- relationships or non-profits, screenplays or marathons - takes a certain willing suspension of disbelief. This suspension is hard to maintain, but its perpetuation is Job One. I've written two books, and I can tell you that writing one word at a time, when there are 60,000 words to go, requires a state of flat-out dissociation. You'll need to blow up a nice big bubble and find a way to live in it long enough to forget the world of reason and probability, the world that is staring through the filmy edge of your bubble, barely obscured, mouthing the words "Who do you think you are, anyway?"

-Kelly Corrigan, author of The Middle Place

The Crater

Are you guys tired of my Utah stories yet? Too bad! Here's another!

It was our last day in Utah and we had woken up too late to get a decent day in on the slopes. We perused a Utah guide book to see what our options were for the day. I mean, we had pretty much seen everything Utah had to offer; snow, Mormons, pubs, and child molesters. Speaking of, we decided to text Acid Chef (what? we had pre-abduction Stockholm Syndrome) to see if he had any ideas. He suggested the Hot Springs which sounded relaxing and exotic so we began getting ready and packing our bags with bathing suits and towels. We decided to head to Park City first to walk around and grab some lunch. We picked a little sushi place that didn't seem too expensive or too far of a walk for our need to be instantly gratified. While eating, we googled directions to the hot springs. Just to be sure we asked our waiter if he knew how far the hot springs were. He was more than happy to help (Utahnites are very friendly) and seemed eager to have someone to tell his life story to. He began with, "Yeah I know where the springs are," (only telling us a third of the way before saying, "and then it gets complicated") and ended with, "So I can't wait to get off work today because I've been writing this song about a tambourine and it's my first time writing a song but it's really good stuff because it's an analogy to life because a tambourine just sits there and doesn't make any music unless someone shakes it so it's like saying 'Hey, don't just sit there being useless like a tambourine, do something with your life.'" He walked away and I needed a moment to let his pot brownie philosophy on life sink in. My friend turned to me and asked, "Is everyone in Utah on acid?"

We finished our lunch and piled in the car, following google to the hot springs, excited to be doing something new and different. I pictured flat lands with steam rising from holes you can't see, a picturesque snowy mountain backdrop, and some hot mountain men who may or may not be high telling us, "Hop in, there's plenty of room." We warily followed the directions past some horses, canyons, and ice castles, unsure if we had passed it until we reached a sign for The Homestead Resort. "Yay! Here it is!" we cheered and pressed our faces to the car window, looking around for signs of steam rising from the ground. We saw written signs for parking, accommodations, and adventure. By process of elimination we deduced the hot springs must be under the "adventure" category. We followed signs that led us to the adventure center building.



We walked in and eagerly announced to the desk lady, "Hi, we're here for an adventure!" She pushed 3 waiver forms across the counter and asked us to sign. She added that for an extra $5 we could rent snorkels but we thought, "Who wants to look at each others legs and butts in a hot tub?" No thanks, we told her, we were just excited for a relaxing soak.

She pointed us in the direction of a huge raised rock mound and told us we had to walk up a few stairs so we figured the springs sat atop the rock.



We walked up a few steps and the only passage of entry seemed to be a steel door at the base of the rock. This doesn't look like the right way, we thought, but since there were no further stairs we assumed we reached the entrance. We opened the door and followed the path through the cave, very Raiders of the Lost Ark-esque, until we reached a girl at a counter in a cave. We approached her as if we were unsure if she was human or spoke English or if she was just a troll that inhabited the cave. We stared at her until she put down her crime novel and stammered, "Um. Hi. We're here for the, um, hot springs?" She rolled her eyes at us as if she was tired for always being confused for a non English speaking cave troll. She said, "The changing rooms are over there, there are lockers here for your stuff, and when you're done come back to me and I'll give you your life vests and tell you the rules." What the? Life vests? Rules? For a little hole in the ground filled with hot water? We did as she said and changed into our suits. We returned to her and she gave us the vests and showed us how to inflate them and loop the strap through our legs and up to be hooked at our backside. "I've never worn a life vest that gave me camel toe before," said Care Bears.

After we were read the rules we were pointed to a cave opening past her troll checkpoint station. There we stood at the edge of a body  of water, the size of nursing home exercise pools, still enclosed in the cave. There were about 10 other people floating about in their camel toe inducing life vests, seemingly unaware by the fact that people wearing  life vests floating around in a cave is a tad peculiar. They seemed to actually be enjoying themselves, holding conversations while floating about on their backs. I felt like I was 14 and wearing a bikini for the first time again, conscious of my body, and feeling like everyone was rating my parts. The three of us slinked into the water in an enclosed area where we assumed the water must be warmer, kinda like the hot tub section of a pool. This was not the case. It seemed this little section in the water with a seating area was just built for timid people who were too embarrassed to swim near others.

The Hot Springs, also called the Crater, was the furthest thing from what we had romanticized in our imagination. Where was the steam? The view? Even the temperature? I felt like I was sitting in a lukewarm bath. We splashed some of the water onto our arms. Isn't this water supposed to be good for your skin, we asked each other, the only justification to be sitting in lukewarm water with 10 strangers. We looked around the cave enclosed stagnant water and wondered how this could be sanitary. The cave troll had told us we had an hour before the Crater closed but somehow, we thought, we probably wouldn't be using up the hour.

We joined the rest of the people in the non sectioned off part of the water and tried our best to pretend we were enjoying ourselves. Then suddenly we saw bubbles sprout up from below. "What the hell is that?" we swatted water at the bubbles to push ourselves backwards away from the...bubbles. Where the hell is that coming from? We looked down and saw shadows moving below us. I immediately thought sharks or at least some whirlpool that would suck us under. Some of the other swimmers floaters had on masks and were looking at something under the water. What the hell was under there? Why didn't we splurge the extra $5 so that we could figure out what was going on under our dangling feet? I began to whimper. "I don't like this at all!" I admitted. Care Bears, who felt the same way, laughed at us. We're such typical North-Easterners who can't just sit in a body of randomly bubbling water in a cave and relax, she said. It's true but so be it. I'm sorry that I don't think being attacked by the bubble monster is relaxing. Just then the bubbles started again and the shadow looked like it was getting closer to the surface. What do I do in a shark attack, I thought. Karate chop nose or poke eyes? Gah!!! Karate chop or poke?? And just when I was about to make a last minute decision, a person in scuba gear emerged from the water. Oh right, we thought. We did see some signs about a scuba class earlier. That explains the bubbles, at least, but not why anyone would volunteer to pay $15 to soak in a lukewarm public bath in a cave.

I think we were hoping if we stayed in the water a little longer something would happen like maybe our skin would turn into gold or at least the water would get warmer, or maybe we were trying to be open minded and show we could appreciate new things, or maybe we just wanted to stay in until we felt we experienced it long enough to make having paid $15 worth it. We looked at each other, me, slightly crying, and agreed, we had had enough.



We got out of the water and quickly squeezed our damp bodies into our clothes and half ran out of the crater. "I am traw-mah-tyzed," declared Care Bears in her best Samantha from the Jersey Shore accent. I emerged from the steel door crying as if I had just been tortured for 15 whole minutes.



We got in the car and made a pact, "We're never going to speak of this ever again." And we drove home in silence.

good reads

I finished this book last week and absolutely loved it. I originally picked up the book because of the title and the cover (how does that saying go?) because I thought it would be a cutesy gift for my insomniac friend. It's about a boy who's friend never had to sleep and one day the were on the run from men in suits who wanted to tap into the boy's mind, told in a really funny and observant point of view of an awkward teenage boy. And if you don't trust my recommendation, the book made it on Barnes & Noble's Discover Great New Writers List, so there.

look at me, I drink coffee too!

So I bought a travel coffee mug today. I know, doesn't everyone own one? I haven't had one since my freshman year of college when I bought it at Bed Bath & Beyond along with all the other items on the College Checklist that I didn't need like a lap desk and inflatable chair. I remember the first time I used it. I made some instant cappuccino in my microwave and proudly toted the disgusting tasting product to my 8AM Calculus class and felt all collegey and cool. My misconception that people who walk really fast holding coffee mugs are really important started back then. I got to class and chose a seat in the middle corner (not too close but far enough where the professor can't see me drawing cartoons the entire hour). I took one sip from the mug and had brown liquid dripping down my chin. Yeah, I was way cool. I took another sip and the same thing happened. What the f? It took about 3 more sips and the entire front of my shirt looking like a Rorschach blotch for me to realize the lid had a crack in it. And I never carried a travel mug or drank instant cappuccino ever again.

Anyway, so today I wanted to be a cool owner of a travel mug again. If I can't have a goddamned full-time job at least I can walk around looking like I do! It's a Contigo mug with an autoseal and supposedly spill proof so we'll see if I will end up looking like I took a sip after being injected with novacaine.

What's that? Oh you wanna know about the adorable headband that I'm wearing? I made it myself! : )

happy easter!

It's another gorgeous sunny day here in NYC. I made a yummy pancake breakfast with strawberries and blueberries to start my day off. I'm going to go for a bike ride to clear my head a little and then come home and eat chocolate bunnies in bed.

Hope you have a Happy Easter!

dreams, not the good kind

I had a really disturbing dream last night. Perhaps it could be blamed on the bottle of wine I drank mixed with my anger at The Boy, my friends, and just the world in general. (I am so dramatic). So here's how the nightmare went down. I was laying in bed in my apartment when I heard a lot of noise outside. I looked out my window and was startled by a bunch of obnoxious guys partying on my balcony. I told them to shut the hell up and they got violent and started trying to break into my windows. Of course none of my windows would lock. I started screaming and crying and calling my brother for help. I ran into the other rooms in my apartment and it was pitch black and I couldn't see anything. But I could make out some people sleeping and I assumed one was my brother and I tried to shake him awake. But when I did it turned out to be one of the guys attacking me. So then I ran and ran through my apartment and was going to escape through the balcony. But when I stepped out the balcony was no longer there and I was all of a sudden living on the 80th floor. I fell out the window but was able to grab on to a ledge. I looked down and as I was struggling to hang on I thought, "I can't die like this. Not now. I haven't accomplished half the things I set out to do." But then I couldn't hold on anymore and I let go and began falling. I screamed and cried the entire way down, scared and bracing myself for the pain of hitting the ground. But then halfway down I stopped screaming and thought it was meant to be and I closed my eyes as if I was going to sleep and said, "I did my best."

UM. How sad and scary is that? What do you think it means??

texts from tonight:

I thought this was funny:

Little One: I'm free next week donuts party time!!!

Me: Hahah OK.

Little One: It says donuts! It's supposd to say "so it's"! haha

Me: Hahaha I was confused but I figured I'm down for a donut party as well!

Little One: And that's why I love you!!!!

Shortly after I got a call from Care Bears that said, "I'm reading about your little crisis all over facebook and your blog. What's going on?"

My friends are funny.

late 20s crisis

It's 11PM on a Saturday night and I am sitting on the couch watching Sweet Home Alabama, eating eggs and bacon, and drinking wine. This is not normal, right? What has my life become? Yesterday I turned down a party to watch movies with The Boy. (We watched The Reader which I had mistaken for Revolutionary Road so the entire time I was expecting to see Leonardo DeCaprio and confused as to why Kate Winslet had an accent. But other than that I thought it was a really good, but sad, movie). The day before that my hangover lasted until 8PM and I needed to take the night off from drinking. I never let a hangover hold me back! I brush my teeth with Jack Daniels for Christ's sake! Tonight, I don't have any single girlfriends left that could come to a party with me. This. Is. Really. Depressing. I think I'm having a late 20's crisis.