internet porn

Another lonely Friday night in front of the computer. I found myself watching "Sex and the City" and experimenting with a few new sites. In no time I was cooing and awwing - and quite frankly getting a little excited. And then . . . just like that I felt dirty and ashamed.

No payoff.

Piperlime.com: Nothing. Footcandy.com: Nada. bananrepublic.com: Zilch

I am even sad to report that I walked into a Sephora this week and simply walked out empty handed. Depressing. tonight I found a couple of pairs of hot shoes on Piperlime. I placed them in my checkout and then just clicked out.

Sorry, Carrie Bradshaw . . . i let you down.

better than riding the ferris wheel

I spent all day yesterday watching TV. I don't feel guilty at all. It was raining and I had been up since 5:30 a.m, which is just wrong on a Sunday. It's Unholy.

Flipping though the channels, I came across "Uptown Girls". Not one to miss out on a Brittney Murphey movie, I decided to stay put.

Anyways . . . there's this scene where she drags the uptight Dakota Fanning to Coney Island to ride the tea cups. None of the rides are open. But she decides since they took the subway all the way to the end of Brooklyn, they should at least make it into Nathan's Hot Dogs, where she makes the little girl take a bite of a all beef kosher frank. mmmm.

It's true - television makes you do things. Ah, the power of suggestion. Since I can't just hop on the D Train down to Coney Island I did the next best thing. I headed to Raley's down the street and got some whole wheat hot dog buns, some brown mustard, and a pack of nathan's all beef kosher franks. mmmm.

It reminds me of the first time I went to New York City. I was staying with my friend LMY who had just moved to Brooklyn. We decided to venture off to Coney Island because I "just had to see it". It was freezing. Windy. And there was sleet all over the sidewalk which made me slip and slide. The rides were obviously closed since it was early January.

But . . . I guess no trip to New York in complete without heading to Coney Island and enjoying a hot dog. I mean, I always live off of hot dogs when I go there, but nothing compares to a Nathan's dog. Afterall, that's the dog those food eating champs chomp on.

ol' blue eyes was right

That's life, that's what all the people say.
You're riding high in April, Shot down in May. But I know I'm gonna change that tune, When I'm back on top, back on top in June. I said that's life, and as funny as it may seem Some people get their kicks, Stompin' on a dream. But I don't let it, let it get me down, 'Cause this fine ol' world it keeps spinning around. I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, A poet, a pawn and a king. I've been up and down and over and out. And I know one thing: Each time I find myself, flat on my face, I pick myself up and get back in the race. That's life I tell ya, I can't deny it, I thought of quitting baby, But my heart just ain't gonna buy it. And if I didn't think it was worth one single try, I'd jump right on a big bird and then I'd fly

I'm beat. I crossed nine Bay Area county lines this weekend. It's fun to have family fly in to one air port and then fly out of another one the next day.(You're right if you detect a hint of sarcasm.) I guess it would have been worth while had it not been pouring rain because there's nothing greater than driving on 101 through the Golden Gate Bridge in 70 mph winds and pouring rain at 6 a.m. on a Sunday.

I've had a really tough week with the contemplation of life and other existential dilemmas. So, I don't know if it was driving in the rain early this morning, or the "This is what you should do with your life" conversations. I realize that I might not make the best choices in my life, but i don't think anyone has the right to tell me how to live my life. I'm open to suggestions and advice. Always. But I don't need someone telling me I'm not living my life right. I have some people in my family that get it. Others just want to add their two-cents. I know it means they care. At the same time it's incredibly exhausting.

This does a lot to the psyche.

But . . . I've learned that it's not about what other people think. Everyone always has something to say. And they all have their own agendas or motives for saying those things. I'm not one to give in to fatalistic views, even if i believe in destiny. If I listened to everyone and their two-cents I'd still be working two dead-end minimum wage jobs, throwing up my arms up in the air and muttering "that's life".

That's life
That's life and I can't deny it
Many times I thought of cutting out
But my heart won't buy it
But if there's nothing shakin' come this here july
I'm gonna roll myself up in a big ball and die
My, My

happiness is a warm gun (a la mode)

I hate Wednesdays.

Especially on mornings when the i-80 is a friggin' parking lot that stretches from Vallejo through the maze and past Treasure Island on the Bay Bridge. It's especially bad on those mornings when even the diamond lane refuses to budge. And then you have those crazy jackasses who decide they're going to drive on the right hand shoulder all the way to the exit.


Now I understand why highway shootouts have become popular within the Richmond city limits. Not only is there the heaviest amount of traffic in that area, but also some of the worst drivers. that's some hard-core road rage.


Plus, if I haven't had my morning coffee by the time everyone's already read this week's paper it can be pretty damn bad because all you hear throughout the office is: "oh, what the fuck?!"

I'd had a headache pretty much since the morning's commute, which I thought would be eased by screaming in my car at the top of my lungs and blasting Nirvana's "Nevermind" louder than hip hop eminating from the pimped-out Buick with shiny rims that was hovering next to me.

I figured two things might help. 1.) A Parisian style lunch at Cafe Clem in Berkeley and 2.) A double-shot iced mocha from Scharfen Berger Chocolates down the street from the cafe. No relief. Even the extra-strengh pain reliever from the office medicine cabinet refuses to help me out.

I will say that lunch was superb as always. I tend to get the same thing: le monsieur sandwich on rustic bread. It's basically a grilled ham and cheese sandwich - comfort food on a day you just want to curl up into the fetal position and dissappear.

I usually get my lunch to go and eat it in the office, but today the office was the farthest place I wanted to be at. So, I sat at one of the little cafe tables reminiscent of the ones that you find all over Parisian cafes. All I needed was a pack of French smokes, a cafe au lait and a stack-full of post-cards. Then it would feel just like Paris. Instead I sat and read a book. I figured if I didn't the smoke coming out of my ears would be visible.

I still needed something . . . chocolate and espresso, perhaps? That always helps. So, I headed to the only chocolate factory I know of here in the East Bay. I love the smell of chocolate. It reminds me of home. I grew up with the bittersweet aroma of cocoa coming from the Guittard chocolate factory in Burlingame. That smell, along with the airplane fuel exhaust and midnight jasmine, always remind me of home.

But of course, one does not walk out of a chocolate factory with only a mocha, does one? Yeah, I caved in and got a raspberry chocolate cheesecake. (They were out of their signature chocolate cake). But as with anything chocolate. two bites is always more than enough.

I think the only thing that can cure this headache is lots of alcohol at the event we're hosting tonight. That might just be the cure. Here's to a Midori Sour!

check (yerba) mate

I've made a decision that the next city or town I move to needs to have a decent Latin population. Not just Mexican and Central American, either. There has to be enough of an Argentine base that the local latin market will never run out of La Saltena empanada tapas, Havana dulce de leche, or Materva Yerba Mate Soda. (or any form of yerba mate for that matter).

For those of you not familiar with Argentine culinary delicacies, let me give you a crash course.

Empanadas are stuffed pastry filled with anything from ham and cheese to ground beef, olives, hard boiled eggs, and raisins - or my family favorite corn in a white sauce. I like to prepare the meat filling and keep it frozen for use whenever I'm too lazy to cook anything else. Therefore, I like to stock my freezer with pre-packaged tapas (dough disks you stuff). God forbid I actually have to roll the dough myself. Talk about exhausting! (I did that once with my nonna A. and trust me it took all night.) So, I always buy the Argentine imported brand La Saltena because they make different types of dough for deep frying or baking. And whenever I have to make the corn empanadas for family functions it's easy to arrange them in an assembly line for my cousins to help out with.

Dulce de leche is the Argentine version of caramel - only it's milkier and smoother. But just as sweet. It's mostly spread on media lunas (croissants) and other factura (pastries). And of course, it's used as the filling in alfajores (cookie sandwiches traditionally covered in powdered sugar or chocolate.) Because it is a traditional dessert in Argentina, there are many versions of it and many brands. But there is only one I ever ask people to bring back - Havana. (Yes, like the capital of Cuba.)


And I'm sure most people are familiar with yerba mate by now because it's become so popular that we even keep a canister full of it in the office kitchen. (And I swear I never put it there.) It's an herbal beverage made from the mate plant found in the northern province of Misiones (by the Iguazu Falls). It's known for it's many health benefits because it's an anti-oxidant, a hunger-suppressant, and a natural stimulant better than caffeine. But for Argentines it's a traditional social beverage to share within an extended or close-knit group of friends and family. Everyone drinks out of gourd and Bombilla (straw). Sounds a bit unsanitary to share with a bunch of people but it's rude not to accept it.

I drink it in tea-bag form from brands like Guarani - or as a carbonated beverage created by Materva soda. Interestingly enough, Materva was created in Cuba, not Argentina, Uruguay or Paraguay. Looks like Che Guevarra had a bigger influence on Cuba than just helping with the socialist revolution.

Hmm . . . Well, luckily I don't have to go to Cuba or Argentina for any of the goodies above. All I have to do is walk three blocks down the street.

any general would be proud

Miss Piggy and I have always shared a certain simpatico. We're both big girls whom have an affinity toward the color pink (or any form of it), we seem to fall for stringy guys with nasal voices, but most importantly, we know how to own our diva-esque fabulousness. And no doubt we also share the same taste in food.

So, there was no contest as to which plate I would order this afternoon during our lunchscapade to 900 Grayson. Starving for something new, my coworkers and I headed down 7th Street in Berkeley. I love how the outside of 900 Grayson reminds me of the 16 Mile House and the old train station in Millbrae. It has an old post gold-rush feel to it, but it's in the middle of an industrial area.

I'd heard that the demon chicken was bomb. It's spicy fried chicken on a buckwheat waffle with homestyle gravy. I'm almost glad I didn't get that because after trying the seiten (hehe, satan chicken) I was sure it was too much.

Besides, I knew I was getting "Miss Piggy and the General" the second I saw it on the menu. Basically, it was a pulled-pork sandwich the Miss would've approved of. It was filling, but not stuffing. Still . . . I would have liked a little more kick to the BBQ sauce. I felt like I was missing something. The only time my taste buds responded was when the vinegar cold slaw and pork meshed together in one bite. All this was accompanied by garlic herb fries and washed down with a limeade.

Needless to say, after lunch I felt like I was ten months pregnant. So, the only fitting dinner for me was a chocolate iced kreme filled doughnut from Krispy Kreme. I got me some good 'ol American feast today.

osin!

When I was a kid - my first stuffed animal happened to be a polar bear I called "Osin". I still have him somewhere, but he's losing all his stuffing. anyways . . . my mum sent me this today which counted as my "cosi petite" moment of the day. i'm still LOLing. Ha! So, I had to add it to my "blob" as mom calls it.

happiness is living in el sobranee

I always thought I'd end up living in some glamorous cosmopolitan city a la carrie bradshaw. Instead, I live in this quaint little unincorporated town smaller than my hometown, surrounded by refineries. I'm not complaining. it has it charms. Like . . . little Latin Carniceria markets where I often purchase Hellman lime mayo, El Mexicano soup packets, Inca Cola and, of course, La Satena empanada tapas - staples of any good Latin meal.

But besides the Latin food and cheap gas stations it has really nice people who always say "hi" to you even if they don't know you. They seem to have a love-hate relationship with their town. It happens to be nestled in the "Richmond Hills" as I call it because the city of Richmond surrounds it. So, it's close to Tilden Park and the San Pablo Dam Reservoir. The reservoir itself supposedly has a ton of bass that locals fish. Personally, I prefer Tilden Park and trails I can get lost on. But this weekend I felt like doing something a little more off the beaten path.

After loitering (as opposed to littering) outside Starbucks, I headed toward Crockett - home of the C&H Sugar factory off the Carquinez Strait. Talk about quaint. So cute. A little on the not-so-happening side, but I'm guessing that because everyone was still at on of the many churches on the main street. I just wanted to get over to the other side of the highway and get some shrimp linguini at the Dead Fish and enjoy the view. But I'm broke so I had to make my own version of that. And this afternoon I got lost in Rodeo. Talk about desolate. I knew it was the end of the road when I hit a large 76 Oil refinery with smoke coming out of all these chimeneys. Wasn't that where the alleged Zodiac killer worked?

ok . . . i need to go down to oakland, or something. time to get some city vibe.

tease!

I'm still not sure how I'm supposed to feel about the early spring preview we get every year around the second week of February. Part of me is grateful that it's not raining or freezing and that I can wear short sleeved shirts outside. Then there's this other part of me that is already jaded and bitter because I know it's probably going to start snowing somewhere in Tahoe next week.

I'm not going to lie: I've actually been looking forward to the freakish weather phenomenon probably caused by global warming, since late December. not just because i'm sick and tired of 42-degree mornings, but mostly because now instead of waiting thirty minutes for a table at Rudy's Can't Fail Cafe (in E'ville) during lunch, I also have the option to sit outside on their patio. And seeing how I go there at least once (if not twice) a week, that's a good thing. Plus, the warm weather makes me a little more ambitious with my orders. no more boring (yet, delicious) bacon cheese burgers for a while. Instead . . . a different offering.

Buffalo chicken salad with blue cheese dressing and an Arnold Palmer: good. listening to a group of pixar geeks at the next table telling someone not to wear green while they're in front of the CGI screen: annoying.

Oh, well . . . always need to have the good with the bad. Otherwise it's not fair to the balance of the universe, or something. Warm weather: good. Early spring allergies: baaaaad.

* And yes . . . those are indeed the dudes from Green Day. One of them is a partner in the business.

how do you say "d'oh" in fritalian?

It's Friday night and I should be out partying but I'm beat. So, I'm veggin' out in front of the TV watching the weeknight CSI marathon and whatever else is on. But something caught my attention while watching CSI on Spike tonight: a Dunkin' Donuts commercial. It goes without saying that I love Dunkin' Donuts and have many fond memories of eating their delectable pastries when i'm on the East Coast. (I have yet to find one in the Bay Area).

I remember when I was in Boston how blown away I was that there was no line at the Starbucks because everyone was waiting for their coffee and pastry at the Dunkin'. But now it seems they're competing with Starbucks (why bother, their stock has sunk so low Micky D's is kicking their ass). Yet, they're making fun of the wacky "fritalian" lingo frou frou coffee places like Sbux use. (trust me, i was a barista for six years - it ain't all hoity-toity haute java.)

I digress . . .

The commercial itself is annoying, which works well to get the message through, I guess. But the one thing that caught my eye and counted as my "cosi petite" moment of the day was one of the crazy coffee concoctions they had listed on the menu board: himen plu centa.

That was my definite LOL moment - and i didn't even indulge in the beer we had at the office this afternoon. or . . . more appropriately . . . my momentus grossus of the day.

* By the way cosi petite is "fritalian" small things.

cosi petite

remember when you were a kid and the world seemed like a giant playground and the scariest thing you could image was getting a splinter from falling off the monkey bars and into the tanbark?

. . . and then you grow up and you realize life as an adult sucks. all of a sudden you're stressing out about suffocating or cheating significant others, mounting bills, slumlords, commuting, demanding bosses, and paying taxes.

sometimes i know yoga just isn't going to do the trick. sometimes it's just the little random things in life that make you smile even when you're stuck in traffic at 8:45 in the morning and are in desperate need of coffee.