And, well . . . I am a material girl. I've been thinking and most likely in a previous life I was a Leona Helmsley or some other notorious rich bitch. I probably had a dozen servants waiting on me hand and foot, massive property, endless amount of spending cash for shopping sprees around the world and at least five homes in different countries. And I probably treated everyone like shit.
So, if one takes into account karma and past-life evil-doing, I can pretty much justify being broke ass poor in this one. (And true, you can never say you're poor if your rich in health.)
But every now and I then I do actually like to go participate in the art of consumerism. I don't do shopping sprees anymore, though.
This past weekend, my cousin and I decided to do something a little different than wine tasting at the vineyard up the street from my aunt's house or heading to Sonoma Square. We headed out past miles of rural country roads, cows, and vineyards into Petaluma.
I've never been to Petaluma, unless you count the Premium Outlets. It's an uber cute little town full of old buildings and a salon on every corner. They were in the middle of their "American Graffiti" Days. Not one of my favorite movies, but it was filmed there and it starred a bunch of famous people and directed by George Lucas pre-Star Wars. So, to celebrate, the good people of the town put on a vintage car show and set up some live music stages. It just makes me want to say "Go, Grease Lightning!"
Right. Wrong movie.
We did end up going to the outlets, but I was not impressed. Then we got pedicures and I was still unimpressed. (I've been spoiled by the place I go to in Hercules.) By the time we finally ate something, I was totally unimpressed.
That's not to say that Petaluma sucks. I'm just unimpressed with things lately. There was one redeeming moment, thankfully. We decided to get ice cream after dinner and the older gentleman who served us our waffle cones totally restored my faith in humanity just by getting my order right and not looking like he was going to spit in my margarita or pick the shit out of my toe nails.
But I was unimpressed the next day when I got lost in San Leandro with my good friend from back home. Didn't spend much, but apparently found out I have a case of Tourettes. I wonder what Madonna would have to say about that.
So, if one takes into account karma and past-life evil-doing, I can pretty much justify being broke ass poor in this one. (And true, you can never say you're poor if your rich in health.)
But every now and I then I do actually like to go participate in the art of consumerism. I don't do shopping sprees anymore, though.
This past weekend, my cousin and I decided to do something a little different than wine tasting at the vineyard up the street from my aunt's house or heading to Sonoma Square. We headed out past miles of rural country roads, cows, and vineyards into Petaluma.
I've never been to Petaluma, unless you count the Premium Outlets. It's an uber cute little town full of old buildings and a salon on every corner. They were in the middle of their "American Graffiti" Days. Not one of my favorite movies, but it was filmed there and it starred a bunch of famous people and directed by George Lucas pre-Star Wars. So, to celebrate, the good people of the town put on a vintage car show and set up some live music stages. It just makes me want to say "Go, Grease Lightning!"
Right. Wrong movie.
We did end up going to the outlets, but I was not impressed. Then we got pedicures and I was still unimpressed. (I've been spoiled by the place I go to in Hercules.) By the time we finally ate something, I was totally unimpressed.
That's not to say that Petaluma sucks. I'm just unimpressed with things lately. There was one redeeming moment, thankfully. We decided to get ice cream after dinner and the older gentleman who served us our waffle cones totally restored my faith in humanity just by getting my order right and not looking like he was going to spit in my margarita or pick the shit out of my toe nails.
But I was unimpressed the next day when I got lost in San Leandro with my good friend from back home. Didn't spend much, but apparently found out I have a case of Tourettes. I wonder what Madonna would have to say about that.
I've had her new single stuck in my head for the last week or so. I was talking about how awesome the single is with a couple of coworkers. Me: "I love the fact that Justin's in it." Coworker: "You guys are on a first name basis?" Me: "Well, I only call him JT in private." He did bring sexy back. See for yourself.
No comments:
Post a Comment