cosi petite

Rad

2011-09-02T13:59:00.001-07:00

This mural is both awesome and super creepy to me at the same time. Don't know if the older dude is supposed to be Ghandi, but he kind of looks like an old Tupac. It reads "spiritual release", but I like it more as "ritual". It's on the wall of what used to be the Parkway Speakeasy movie theater. So sad it's not open anymore. I'm sure they'll turn it into some church like they do with most old theaters.

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Someone finally read my mind

2011-08-14T15:24:00.001-07:00

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Look what I found this morning in the Mill Valley Whole Foods! Now I can eat a cupcake and not look like a total glutton. It's all fancy-like.

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Ice Cream + Portuguese wines = Wow.

2011-06-16T16:30:00.001-07:00

The simplest equation ever.

Left to right:

1.) Apple + Vinho Verde Sorbet

2.) Strawberry Ice Cream

3.) Mango Sorbet

4.) Vintage Port Ice Cream.

I also highly recommend their Piri Piri chicken salad.

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An "Awesome" Adventure in New Zealand's Northland

2011-06-16T16:21:00.001-07:00

I love New Zealand. It's my home away from home. Literally. (My mother lives there.) I love how I never get homesick, or feel like I need to be back in California ASAP because it kind of reminds me of home with its Green hills, coastal views, big cities, fresh food and great wine. I also love that I can opening say "awesome" as much as I like. (Can't do that in other places without getting strange looks).

As much as I love Aotearoa, I always feel a slight pang of guilt at traveling to a place I've already been to more than twice, considering there are so many places on my list that I'd like to see. Luckily, there's so much to do there that you can't do it all on one trip.

This time around mom and I headed to the Northland and Bay of Islands area, which was not only stunningly beautiful, but actually warm. Since I always go in winter when it's cheap, I have a tendency to think of the place as being balmy, rainy, muggy, and chilly. This was a nice departure. It almost seemed like I was visiting a country I'd never been to before.

We took the Awesome NZ tour - see, there's that word I love again - from Paihia, where we were staying to an old forrest full of ancient Kauri trees. Our guide told us that if we hugged it, we'd feel refreshed and awake. I didn't feel so jetlagged anymore, so maybe it worked. Although I had already been there for a few days . . .

Then we drove down the 90 Mile Beach, which is a highway where cars go at 90 KPH, that's only like 55 MPH, but needless to say I almost lost my mom to a reckless Audi and a mistunderstanding between her and some Singaporean tourists who were taking pictures. They were telling her to look out and she thought they were telling her to get outof their photo, so she ran right in front of the on-coming car. She was looking right . . .

Needless to say, she didn't get run over and we then headed on to the sand dunes, where I've now discovered something way more fun than body surfing and snow sledding: sand boarding. You basically take a Bodyboard, climb up a huge sand dune, lie on the board on your stomach and go. Although, word to the wise, I don't recommend screaming down the hill. Sand is nasty when it gets in your mouth.

We then headed to the Meeting Point at Cape Reinga where the Tasman Sea meets the Pacific Ocean. It's a spiritual place for the Maori. It's beautiful, so one can obviously see why it's a special spiritual place for them. Our guide was of Maori heritage, so he told us there is a prayer they always do when approaching the place, which he chanted for us. Last year we when we went to Christchurch, we went to a reserve where did the god-aweful touristy thing of participating in a Maori warrior reenactment. It was cheesy, but interesting at the same time. Who doesn't want to learn how to do the Haka like their national rugby team, The All Blacks?

I've always found the Maori culture fascinating, probably because it kind of reminds me of the Hawaiian one and I remember being ten and how learning how to say a few words in Hawaiian were just the coolest thing ever. I feel super cool now that I've learned a few Maori words from our driver. Ok, really only "nui" which means big, but it's a start. Once you've got Kia Ora and Aroha worked out it's smooth sailing from there. Sort of . . .

I guess we spent too much time on the killer sand dunes because we arrived late to Maunganui, which means "big shark" according too our guide, because we only had a few minutes to grab THE best fish n chips I've ever had. (And I've eaten a lot of fish n chips in my lifetime.) The thing that always kills me about New Zealand is their stinginess over condiments. I'm American. I like my condiments! They always charge extra for ketchup and tartar sauce. I mean, I can understand why. It's an added expense, but seriously, you need

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When it rains have some Spain?

2011-05-26T18:58:00.001-07:00

I find it slightly amusing that I headed all the way to New Zealand and ended up at a Spanish restaurant drinking sangria and eating paella. And yet . . . That's exactly what we did. Delish. I highly recommend Limon by the Auckland waterfront if you're craving something a little different.

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This made my day . . .

2011-05-16T17:37:00.001-07:00

Go to this website and get your Tumblr collage. I kind of love how mine has "strategy" hidden in it.

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Must be good mustard, no?

2011-04-29T22:06:00.001-07:00

I just said that in my best Russian accent, in case you couldn't tell. Found this gem at my favorite specialty food store in Marin. (No, not the Tyler Florence store.) Even Gorbi gives it a thumbs up, so you know you can't go wrong. Great for steak tartare or piroskis, I'm sure. Hmm. I like to think that this is what babuska dolls of former Soviet leaders do post retirement. Makes it sound even cooler.

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Gorbi gives it a thumbs up

2011-04-29T21:55:00.001-07:00

Must be good mustard, no? (I just said that in a Russian accent in you case you couldn't tell). Hmm. Now, I have a sudden craving for piroshkis. Ah, the awesome things you can find at local specialty food stores.

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Hostess with the Mostest

2011-04-24T23:24:00.001-07:00

Remember that episode of Friends where Monica and Rachel trade apartments with Joey and Chandler and everyone decides they want to hang out in the guy's new apartment?

Monica gets all pissed off and annoyed because she's used to having everyone at her place. So, to entice them back over to her new crummy little apartment she bakes chocolate chip cookies and blows the smell over with a hand fan. Once they're all back where she wants them, she proclaims: "I'm always the hostess!"

Well, I'm kind of like that, but without being all psycho hostesszilla-like. But it does give me an excuse to evoke the inner Martha Stewart in me. Besides, we all need an excuse to use Cadbury Creme Eggs as part of a place setting.

Delegating work is the key to a successful family holiday dinner. My cousin, Rach, made the two delicious quiches (asparagus and leek with gruyere and artichoke and mushroom with swiss cheese) and my uncle, John took care of the ham. I made the Torta de Santiago and the goat cheese stuffed dates.

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Epic April Fools Joke?

2011-04-02T21:19:00.001-07:00

Food junkie that I am, I've been following @RuthBourdain's enigmatic Tweets for quite some time. Love how he/she managed to pervert Ruth Reichel's charming and colorful food writing with my all-time favorite food writer, Anthony Bourdain's, kick ass and in-your-face rock and roll attitude. It was like Foies Gras rolled in bacon and sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon.

Imagine my shock and awe at seeing this posting on my Tumblr dashboard yesterday:

No fucking way! I thought for sure this had to be a joke. (Especially when you consider the animosity between Bourdain and Waters.) But LA Weekly's Squid Ink confirmed it, so there it is, I guess. Oh, wait dateline reads April 1st, right?

But Alice Waters would never lie. Even on April Fools. Would she? All I know is if she's Ruth Bourdain I'm not sure of anything anymore.

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So, this is what the ecological side of advertising looks like?

2011-04-02T20:53:00.001-07:00

I'm perplexed. An ad made of 100% recycled ads? It's quite a bold concept considering this comes from a company who is known for it's boldness. I have to say I love the idea as a whole. But the execution makes me cringe. Why does it look like they fired their agency and got an art student to edit this? I'd really like to say that I'm a fan of this ad, but to be honest, aside from reminding me that I need to plug my Nike+ meter into my Nike sneakers before my next run it really didn't do much else for me. **Meh**

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Honestly insightful

2011-03-09T13:50:00.001-08:00

I love social experiments. I especially love them when they manage to do good things for a good product. As a wannabe-sociologist-slash-quasi-cultural-anthropologist, I found this one for Honest Tea incredibly insightful.

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Cloudsourcing

2011-03-06T00:15:00.001-08:00

Quantitative, qualitative, flowcharts, infograms, user-generated blah blah blah. Sometimes the best information comes from the simplest things. Well, ok, I didn't actually get any real insight from staring at clouds a couple of days ago, but I did get some peace of mind and a bit of my dormant creativity back.

Plus, there were some good ones out in the valley on Thursday, I couldn't resist. All I wanted to do was lay out in the middle of the vineyard and stare up at the sky. (And snap some pics of course.)

This is my idea of "going to the cloud."

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Advertising about it is great, but what are you really doing to be socially responsible?

2011-02-28T12:04:00.001-08:00

Like a lot of people I thought that Crysler's Superbowl spot "Imported From Detroit" was brilliant. I still think it's a compelling and heart-felt portrayal of hope. And of course, Crysler upped their ante in the street-cred department by not only featuring the soundrack to "8 Mile" but also showing Eminem driving the 2011 Crysler 200 - a car that looks badass on its own, even if it doesn't fit my personal aesthetics. Needless to say, I was almost moved to tears.

But then I came across a link that Eric Asimov from The New York Times Tweeted a couple of days ago with images of a dilapidated Detroit. We're all aware of the economic hardships that Motown has suffered in the last fifteen years or so, but watching "Mike and Me" couldn't prepare me for what I saw. The photographs from the French design website,Ma Revue, made me so sad that this time I actually did cry.

I wondered, how can a city have such little regard for their architectural history and cultural heritage? One of the photographs was from the Vanity Dancehall, which despite the fact it opened in 1929, not only survived the Depression, it also thrived up until the 1960s with such acts like Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman. It even got a second life in the '70s with bands like The Stooges.

In 1982 it became part of the National Register of Historic Places, yet twenty-six years later is was listed as one of the ten endangered buildings in Detroit by their preservation society. I know we had a few economic downturns in the early '80s, but what about the mid '90s when we had enough money to do something? Why wasn't the money spent on beautification and restoration of historic buildings. Or were we too blind back then to see how greedy GM and Crysler were becoming and that would eventually lead to their inevitable bankruptcies?

Maybe it's because I live in an area that values its history that I feel a pang in my stomach from seeing a city in the US let it's buildings decay as much as its economy. Maybe it's because I'm an art student, or because my grandfather was an architect-engineer and taught me to appreciate buildings that it hurts me to see these places so mistreated. Afterall, Barcelona wouldn't let its Gaudi buildings crumble, would it?

Most would ask: where are they going to get the money? (Especially now that we're past the point of just "recession".) And yet there's always money for other stuff. I'm sure not all of Detroit's residents are completely destitute. I'm sure there are a few people out there who have the time and resources to organize something. Nearby Grosse Point is one of the wealthiest small towns per capita in the U.S. and it's less than 25 minutes away. (I also counted another six zip codes within Michigan on that list of 100 wealthiest cities in the U.S.)

Some would argue that time and money could be better used to improve schools and hospitals. But I think when you give a community beauty and restore it's cultural heritage you give them a sense of pride that no one can take away from them. I'm no urban planning professional, but I'm pretty sure that redevelopment and regentrifiation bring more street traffic and in turn more businesses too. There are industries in this country aside from the automobile industry. Build it and they will come. (So will the jobs).

See Oakland's Uptown area. During the first part of the 20th century it was THE shopping district in Oakland. It kind of lost it's magic during the middle of the last century including many failed attempts of restoration and redevelopment. In the last decade a couple of new restaurants opened up in the area, followed by condos and in 2009 the Fox Theater reopened after being closed since 1966 after which it was known as “the largest outdoor urinal in the world.” I was lucky enough to attend that opening night at the Fox Theater in '09 with a stellar performance by Al Green who seemed to shine his effervesent positivity throughout the concert-hall. The Fox is not only a theater with big-name shows almost every night, it's also the home base for Another Planet Entertainment and the location of Oakland School of Performing Arts, a public charter school.

With that said, let's turn our attention back to Crysler, shall we? After seeing photos, like the ones above, I wanted to know exactly WHAT Crystler was DOING to show their loyalty toward their beloved Detroit. What are they doing in order to gain the American consumer's trust, especially since an Italian car-maker has owned half the company since 2009. Yes, I get that they're a "car company" so their main focus is on the automobile. But now they're also saying they're more than that. I want to know exactly what social responsibility means to them?

Looking at the Crysler Foundation website I saw that they raised money for Katrina victims and also for the victim's families after 9/11. According to their website they even donate to the arts, eduction and environment. That's great, but why was there no mention of Detroit, specifically? Maybe it's just assumed that they give back to the community. I mean, they supposedly create tons of jobs for workers in the area, right? There have also been talks of expanding the main plant on the Jefferson and reopening other factories that were shut down in 2009 before FIAT got half of their assets.

I'm not belittling their efforts because it seems like they do some good works, but why doesn't that still seem like enough to me? I want to see more. As a consumer, American, and advertising person, I want to see more accountability from a company that boasts it is all about the city it started in. I want to see it contribute more to that city and I want to see exactly what they are contributing - time, money, resources.

We need to hold our companies accountable for the messages they send out to us because they need to know that the American public is not that gullible. "Imported from Detroit" was an awesome example of what they can aspire to be again both as a company and as a city. I bet that if they actually focus on social responsibility there on their home turf they will see their numbers back in black once again.

I know I'm just a California girl, who's never been to Detroit and am probably just an idealistic naive dreamer who hasn't experienced poverty and doesn't know what it's like to see something like that, but I still want Detroit to thrive because it means that we all have hope everywhere else in this country. There is no excuse for a city in one of the wealthiest states to look like a warzone. The spot showed us what we as a country can be if we have faith, hope and a badass sensibility. (The American Dream?) I want Crysler to man-up and live up to the promise it made in its Super Bowl ad.

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Communication Breakdown

2011-02-24T01:58:00.001-08:00

I always gather some pearls of wisdom whenever I Skype with my mother in New Zealand. (Aside from just getting a sore throat from our hour-long conversations). Not that I mind, really. All I need is a glass of water and I'm set.

However, the sore throat and the whole awkwardness got me thinking about conversations, in general. I'm talking about actual face-to-face conversations. We don't seem to have too many of those anymore.

This particular conversation started with Social Media. I'm pro, mom's against, even though she has a Facebook account she never checks. We were talking about privacy settings and how I had just heard of this program that some digital strategist are using to bypass people's privacy settings on Facebook and Twitter to gain insight on their Social Media behaviors.

"Big Brother is watching," my mother said."Goes to show, you might think something's private, but anyone can look at it. You should make sure you're not posting anything crazy there."

First of all, as a grad student, I have no social life. Social Media is my social life. That said, I don't really care about people finding what I've posted on my Facebook. Sure, I have uber-privacy settings on that thing, but the main thing is that Facebook is my one outlet where I get to be who I really am and communicate with my friends about what's important to me.

"Well, you better talk to your little cousins about that stuff," she said. "I've seen drunken pictures up there and party pictures. They should know that this is probably going to keep them from getting a job some day in the future."

My cousins don't even have privacy settings on their Facebooks. One got his account hacked into. One posts too many party pics, and one posted some private information about an employer's alarm code.

"Someone needs to talk to them," my mom said. "School doesn't do it and teens don't talk to their parents. I hope their teachers at least take their phones away if they're using it in class."

I guess I never thought about that because when I was in high school we had pagers (yes, I'm that old) and they were confiscated if you were caught checking it during class. Plus, I always talked to my parents about everything. (Well, almost.)

"Teens don't talk. Period," I told my mother. At this moment I had a very strange revelation. Teens don't talk anymore because no one talks anymore. I mean, no one really uses their vocal chords to communicate anymore. It's a rare thing to even have a phone conversation with someone. Most of our communication is through email, Twitter, status updates and text messages.

Growing up in the era before text messaging, as a teen, I would spend hours on the phone with my friends. Sometimes I would even fall asleep with the phone cradled under my ear. The phone was used to schedule hang-out times and places. I was the one responsible for organizing things, so I would be on the phone all afternoon calling all my friends until we had a definite arrangement. I was kind of glad when everyone finally got AOL and we could just email or IM and conference IM what movie we were seeing at the mall and when.

Now we don't even talk anymore. If I have something to say to one of my friends I either write it on their wall, address a Tweet to them or just text them depending on the message. I had an old friend tell me a while back that she had no idea what was going on in my life because my Facebook status updates were so random and generic. (Yeah, that's kind of the point.) I got a little annoyed and started wondering why she hadn't just picked up the phone and given me a ring. Another friend sent me an IM a couple of weeks ago asking me how I was. "Nice," she messaged back as if not really paying attention to what I had written. As a response to my question, "How's it going with you?" She posted a link to her blog. (Tacky much?)

This all reminded me of that episode of "Seinfeld" where Elaine is in social agony over what is appropriate when expressing your sympathies to someone over the death of a loved one. She can't leave a message. But she knows she shouldn't call on a cell phone either because what if the reception cuts out. Besides calling someone on a cell phone means you're not giving your full attention to the conversation because you're on your cell phone probably doing something else while you're calling.

There's that common sense we all seem to be lacking these days when it comes to personal communication.

My mother and most older adults I know think that kids are born with new technology already embedded in their brain like it's part of their DNA or some nanochip that's implanted when they come out of the womb. "Pretty soon kids are going to be born without vocal chords because it won't be necessary to speak anymore."

There's a frightening thought.

On that note, I've decided to take my own personal time machine back to 1996, actually call my friends this week and have a real-life, real-time voice-to-voice conversation. (If they have Skype, that's better, I"m sure.) But I'll stick to an actual phone for now. (Hopefully AT&T allows me to do this.) Or better yet, I'll arrange to grab a drink or coffee with them and have a real face-to-face conversation. Point is, if I have something to say to the important people in my life, I'm going to actually say it to them instead of sending a message in written text.

Let's see how that goes.

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I like to think that the faucets pour sherry when you turn them on.

2011-02-19T01:34:00.001-08:00

Another fun pic from Espain. This one was taken in Seville. Now I totally want some Palomino Fino.

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I bet he totally used the bidet

2011-02-19T01:32:00.001-08:00

I never got to post this to my blog, but fashion fanatic that I am, I just had to brag about this. So, better later than never.

Yes, that is Pierre Cardin's autograph on the bathroom tile of my hotel I'm Granada, Spain. The front desk even confirmed it when I inquired about it the next day. I'm guessing he stayed there long before the hotel became a Best Western, though. Just sayin'.

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Super Bowl Wrap Up

2011-02-06T22:43:00.001-08:00

Or should I say . . . burrito? Either way, I'm sifting through the seven layers of frijole dip advertising hell to find the ads that were actually worth a damn this year. Once again, hats off to Hulu for devoting a whole channel to it. Lets hope they're half as good as Christina Aguilera's memorization of The Star Spangled Banner.

KIA - One Epic Fail . . . um, ride.

Um, yeah, lets spend a shit-load of money on aliens, and sea monsters and other villain stereotypes. Seriously, I liked the stuffed-animals-go-to-Vegas commercial for KIA Sorrento from last year way better.

Sketchers: Kim Kardashian: Hello Sketchers

Yeah, I just threw up in my mouth a little. I don't know about any one else, but I've never had a shirtless personal trainer. Plus, sorry to say, but she can't act to save her tush.

GoDaddy: The Contract

Yup, they're at it again. Eww. This disturbs me on so many levels. Plus, I don't get it. I mean, yeah, I get it. Go to GoDaddy and see them nekked. But what does that have to do with buying a domain?

Mercedes-Benz: Welcome

Haha. Sean Combs. I guess Benz figured Crystler had Marshall Mathers, so why not get P. Diddy. I think they should have just stuck to showing the new line of cars, but it's the Super Bowl, so you've got to put some drama into it. And an angry Diddy does make for some kind of amusement.

Volkswagen: Black Beetle

VW really can't go wrong. They don't show their car at all and I still totally want to buy it.

Hyndai: Anachronistic City

Dude, is your car really that special? Props for Pong though, I guess. Whatevs.

Pepsi: First Date

Coca-Cola should learn from Pepsi. Stop taking yourself too seriously. You're not going to save the world one high fructose corn syrup soft drink at a time. But you just might sell some soda. Granted, PepsiMax has a specific target (men) and Coca-Cola isn't necessarily diet, but come on, liven up a little.

Coca-Cola: Border

See above.

Doritos: House Sitting

I love off-the-wall. We need more of that shit in advertising.

Doritos: Killer Pug

Ditto.

E-Trade: Tailor

The baby might be getting a little old as far as . . . well, considering he's probably older than me by now. But still love the cuteness factor.

Groupon: Tibet

Oh, Groupon. Your commercials are so wrong, but might be just right. Still, I feel like there's a disconnect. I almost want to know how saving with Groupon can help save Tibet.

Lipton: Eminem

Oh, Eminem. Looks like they're really lovin' Marshall this year. This gets a big "Eh" from me.

Crystler: Imported from Detroit

I think I got a little emotional watching this commercial. I'm not from Detroit, but I always feel bad about the shit that happens there. Especially since it's not longer really Motown. But once I heard the "8 Mile" music I knew it was only fitting that Eminem should drive a Crystler, right? I'm really liking the slice of Americana that Crystler is serving with its new campaign (see the one where they show people throughout the ages driving their cars.) It makes me feel all proud to be an American for 30 seconds.

Ok, I know there were 65 ads, but seriously that's all I could go through right now. I just have one thing to say though, Bud Light, you rocked last year. This year you sucked so bad I didn't even add you to my blog. Boo for you. Rock my world next year.

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Super Bowl Ad Wrap Up

2011-02-06T21:39:00.000-08:00

Or should I say . . . burrito? Either way, I'm sifting through the seven layers of frijole dip advertising hell to find the ads that were actually worth a damn this year. Once again, hats off to Hulu for devoting a whole channel to it. Lets hope they're half as good as Christina Aguilera's memorization of The Star Spangled Banner.

KIA - One Epic Fail . . . um, ride.

Um, yeah, lets spend a shit-load of money on aliens, and sea monsters and other villain stereotypes. Seriously, I liked the stuffed-animals-go-to-Vegas commercial for KIA Sorrento from last year way better.

Sketchers: Kim Kardashian: Hello Sketchers

Yeah, I just threw up in my mouth a little. I don't know about any one else, but I've never had a shirtless personal trainer. Plus, sorry to say, but she can't act to save her tush.

GoDaddy: The Contract

Yup, they're at it again. Eww. This disturbs me on so many levels. Plus, I don't get it. I mean, yeah, I get it. Go to GoDaddy and see them nekked. But what does that have to do with buying a domain?

Mercedes-Benz: Welcome

Haha. Sean Combs. I guess Benz figured Crystler had Marshall Mathers, so why not get P. Diddy. I think they should have just stuck to showing the new line of cars, but it's the Super Bowl, so you've got to put some drama into it. And an angry Diddy does make for some kind of amusement.

Volkswagen: Black Beetle

VW really can't go wrong. They don't show their car at all and I still totally want to buy it.

Hyndai: Anachronistic City

Dude, is your car really that special? Props for Pong though, I guess. Whatevs.

Pepsi: First Date

Coca-Cola should learn from Pepsi. Stop taking yourself too seriously. You're not going to save the world one high fructose corn syrup soft drink at a time. But you just might sell some soda. Granted, PepsiMax has a specific target (men) and Coca-Cola isn't necessarily diet, but come on, liven up a little.

Coca-Cola: Border

See above.

Doritos: House Sitting

I love off-the-wall. We need more of that shit in advertising.

Doritos: Killer Pug

Ditto.

E-Trade: Tailor

The baby might be getting a little old as far as . . . well, considering he's probably older than me by now. But still love the cuteness factor.

Groupon: Tibet

Oh, Groupon. Your commercials are so wrong, but might be just right. Still, I feel like there's a disconnect. I almost want to know how saving with Groupon can help save Tibet.

Lipton: Eminem

Oh, Eminem. Looks like they're really lovin' Marshall this year. This gets a big "Eh" from me.

Crystler: Imported from Detroit

I think I got a little emotional watching this commercial. I'm not from Detroit, but I always feel bad about the shit that happens there. Especially since it's not longer really Motown. But once I heard the "8 Mile" music I knew it was only fitting that Eminem should drive a Crystler, right? I'm really liking the slice of Americana that Crystler is serving with its new campaign (see the one where they show people throughout the ages driving their cars.) It makes me feel all proud to be an American for 30 seconds.

Ok, I know there were 65 ads, but seriously that's all I could go through right now. I just have one thing to say though, Bud Light, you rocked last year. This year you sucked so bad I didn't even add you to my blog. Boo for you. Rock my world next year.

Barcelona: Totes les coses bones

2011-02-04T23:47:00.001-08:00

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I once had a friend tell me that no matter where I go, I will never starve because I speak the language of food fluently. That’s a good thing considering Catalan is not an easy language to learn. I now realize that I couldn’t fail in Catalonia with the delicious meals my family took me to enjoy. If anything, I learned that in Barcelona you cannot go wrong in places with the word “Can” in front of it. Can translates to House and although they are restaurants their food felt very much home cooked.

One of the best meals I enjoyed in Barcelona was at a restaurant called Can Punyetes, which has a few locations throughout the city. Here I had the chance to enjoy Butifarra, a delicious Catalan sausage seasoned with garlic and pepper, a la brasa, or grilled. All the meals at this restaurant are either served with potato, piquillo peppers, or pan amb tomàquet (toasted bread with garlic, tomato and olive oil).

I was also introduced to a very typical Catalonian winter salad called Xató (SHA-toh), which usually features endives, bacalao (salt cod), Bonito tuna, hard-boiled eggs, Black Empeltre olives, and anchovies. But it’s the Romesco vinaigrette that really sets it apart from other salads. The salad comes with the Romesco drizzled on top and then one adds Arbiquina olive oil and sherry vinegar to taste. Romesco is also excellent for dipping grilled green onions called Calçots in, or spreading over a toasted baguette.

The thing that amazed me about Barcelona is its amazing seafood. It’s so incredibly fresh. Wandering through the food stalls at La Boqueria, the market by Las Ramblas, I saw rare delicacies I had never even heard of. What amazed me, of course, was that the shellfish were all still alive and actually kicking, or clawing the air. I don’t think I’ve ever seen seafood that fresh – and I grew up going to Fisherman’s Wharf as a kid. Each vendor stall was full of wonderful items – hanging fuet, giant Chupa Chups, saffron and Pimenton de la Vera as well as Pimentos de Padron, cheeses and other delicious embutidos.

No visit to La Boqueria is complete without a stop at Pinotxo’s. You might have to hover around the bar for a while to snatch a seat, but it’s totally worth it. Not being able to see the menu from where I sat, I asked the cute little old man behind the counter for his recommendations. He brought over a plate of fresh gambas en ajo, (garlic prawns) with Flor de Sal, a lamb stew of beans and mushrooms, and a Vichy Catalan. (We’d already had Estrella Damm beer earlier on our tapeo through Passeig de Gracia.)

On a trip through Penedès, the region famous for Cava, I noticed a phrase painted on the side of a building that said “L’art de bon menjar”. You don’t have to speak Catalan to understand that they take dining seriously, to the point where it has been elevated to an art form rivaling the work of Picasso, Dali or Gaudi.

Until next time . . . Buen Provecho!

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Sevilla: Orange Bliss

2011-02-02T14:57:00.001-08:00

I was asked to write a little newsletter about my trip for the store I work at in Marin. Here's last week's newsletter.

Only one thing pops into my head when I think of the magical city of Sevilla. Oranges. I could also say almonds and olives, since there are so many in the areas nearby like Estepa, which is famous for its mantecados and polvorones. I could say bullfights and flamenco, which are both important to its history and culture.

But I’ll stick to oranges because it’s hard to ignore the bright orange globes dangling from the trees that line each boulevard and the calles during the winter months.

Although they are not sweet oranges, I was tempted a few times to pick at least one. Luckily, there are many alternate ways to eat Seville’s bitter oranges. My personal favorite: candied and covered in dark chocolate. I had intended to bring some back home with me from the Confiteria Los Angeles in the city cente r, but they never even made it back to Barcelona with me.

See the full gallery on posterous

Another one of my favorite methods of enjoying the bitter oranges is by eating Ines Rosales Tortas de Aceite, which I was so happy to see again at The Spanish Table in Mill Valley when I returned. With a little bit of oil and a little bit of sugar, there’s just enough hint of citrus to make your taste buds work a little. I like it with some creamy cheese, like Tetilla, that blends in with the bitter orange.

You can’t really starve in Seville, and you definitely can’t go thirsty either. We spent a whole afternoon “tapiando”, as my cousin calls it. Tapas are such a big part of Spanish culture that she says they’ve turned it into a verb as in “Vamos a tapiar” or “Estamos tapiando”. Basically it’s bar hopping in the middle of the afternoon, drinking lots wine, beer, and sangria while enjoying quite a few bites of deliciousness.

We started in the Santa Cruz neighborhood with beer and paella that was being cooked on a Butano. Then we headed down the street to the square in front of the Cathedral for croquettes and a glass of Rioja, followed by sangria and “surprise tapas” consisting of potato salad, fried anchovies and chicken Seville style. My poor cousin is vegetarian, not an easy thing to be while studying abroad in Spain. It took her a while to adjust, but she now has found that her favorite Spanish dish is Patatas Bravas, which we ate lots of. I’ve made some since getting back home using the Mi Conserva Salsa Brava, which reminds me the most of the sauce used in Seville.

After wandering around the streets most of the day, it was time for some coffee and sitting at a café to watch people. I think its wonderful how in Spain after 18:00 hours everyone heads out in their best attire and the streets are crowded with some of the best-dressed people who are out to see and be seen during the evening paseo down Calle Constitucion. That’s also when everyone does their evening window-shopping. We came across Felix’s Posters, an awesome little shop with vintage Flamenco and bullfighting posters. My favorite one is the Cruzcampo Beer poster from the 1930s.

Sometimes while traveling throughout Andalusia you don’t get much time to eat a whole meal, especially if you have a bus to catch or need to stay focused while driving. I’ve always been a fan of sandwiches, but the Spanish bring a different sophistication to their bocadillos.

Since I’ve been back home I’ve been making myself some fun bocadillos for lunch. I get a sweet baguette and a jar of El Navarrico Salsa Tumaco con Ajo. Then I just add whatever I want to it – slices of Manchego, Jamon Serrano, or Ortiz Bonito tuna. It’s a simple and fun way to make bringing lunch to work a little more exotic. Plus, it makes the whole adjustment back to reality a little easier to handle.

Until next time . . . Buen Provecho!

Posted via email from cosipetit@posterous

What no lube?

2011-01-07T17:31:00.001-08:00

I love Barcelona. The food, the sight, the quirks. On the train ride into the city today I found a vending machine with Special K bars, rice cake chips and juice. Upon further inspection, I found this:

Kleenex, condoms (conveniently disguised as cigarette packets), and a battery operated pocket vibrator! Holy shit. Looks like Spaniards really know how to make the most of their Friday night club one-night stands. All that's missing is the lube, although I'm guessing that's not an issue with all the hot Spanish people out there. This would never ever fly in a public vending machine in the states, which of course, once again reminds me that sex sells and we are still too prudish in the US to capitalize on it through mainstream consumption. Imagine seeing this at the MUNI station next to the ticket vending machines! Sent from my iPhone

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How to mend a stressed mind

2010-11-09T13:19:00.001-08:00

My brain hurts and I'm stressed. It can only mean one thing . . . midterms. Well, actually, I think midterms were a couple of weeks ago. I'm still feeling residual stress from it all though and with grad school the stress never goes away until the semester is over.

So, where some people get baked to relieve their stress, I bake. (As in batter, parchment paper, oven . . .) Today it was banana nut bread because there were some bruised bananas begging to be turned into something other than compost items.

I feel less stressed right now . . . but we'll see how long that lasts.

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I will always leave my heart here.

2010-10-24T00:01:00.001-07:00

So, now that it's official and the Giants are going to the World Series, I had to show just how much I hella heart my hometown despite the fog, the steep hills, and the overpriced rents. Yay Area por vida!

See and download the full gallery on posterous

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Things I try not to take for granted . . .

2010-10-04T11:04:00.001-07:00

It never occured to me how awesome the sunsets are in Sonoma, until Saturday evening when all my city friends ran outside to my deck in awe of the amazing sight, took pictures and immediately Tweeted about it. At one point we got this notion of how ridiculous it all was when someone said, "I'm going to take a picture of you all taking pictures."

I'm actually happy someone took pictures though because as amazing as it was to see live, it actually looks more surreal in a photograph. Yet another snap-shot to remind me of a certain moment in life.

The fact that I hardly ever step outside to see the sunset, or at least as often as I should, got me thinking of all the things I happen to take for granted.

I've always been too focused on the things I don't have; the things I want. And it's made me miserable. I've tried to mold my friendships, relationships and things around this perfect image of what life should be. Instead of making things better, I just ended pissing off people and getting all depressed.

It's good to want things and be ambitious, but sometimes it's better to just sit, turn your brain off for a bit and let all the things you have sink in.

There's nothing like being around a great group of people and good conversation to get you back on the right track and the state of mind where you realize that spending some time looking at a sunset is pretty much what it's all about.

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Life Unplugged.

2010-09-25T19:01:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I crossed about six out of the eight counties in the Bay Area. I've given in to the reality that my car will eventually run out of miles by the time I finish paying it off.

Nontheless, it was an awesomely warm Fall day in the Bay, so I didn't m ind the extra miles if it meant seeing the sights. It's not every day you can wear a sleeveless top in San Francisco, especially by the bay.

Heading back toward the Golden Gate, I decided to stop off at Crissy Field, my fave beach path for a quick stroll and photo opp before I headed back to Sonoma.

San Francisco is a different animal entirely when it's warm out. People actually seem happy to be alive. You see families with children out at the beach, people having picnics, strolling, riding their bikes or just playing a game of touch football.

I've also recently found that unplugging actually makes my life a lot less stressful. By that I mean updating less about where I am and what I'm doing, taking the earbuds out of my ears and just being in the moment. You never know what you're going to hear, especially coming out of strangers.

Getting a call from an old friend, I decided to head over to the East Bay for some conversation and a promise of beer. I talked him into going to my all-time favorite hipster-dive bar, The Missouri Lounge, on San Pablo Avenue in Berkeley. It's pretty much always awesome weather in Berkeley, but yesterday was exceptionally nice weather to sit outside and enjoy a Trumer Pils.

I never realized how un-East Bay I've become until I went back. I guess I assimiliate really easily to wherever I am, but it was kind of a culture shock in a strange way. Having lived out there for so long and then moving to the North Bay -well, it's like crossing state lines, or going to another country, almost. I always forget how chill people in the EB are.

I was feeling a little self-conscious about my friend's smoking in the little cabana we were sharing with some tattooed, pierced and purple haired chick. So, I apologized and told her that I hope it wasn't bothering her. She looked at me like I came from another planet and said: "Dude, I was gonna light up anyways." I felt stupid and told her. "I guess I've been out in Marin too long." She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about it, I know I used to work in San Rafael and had to go smoke in the parking lot."

I was a long way away from San Rafael, that's for sure. Heading back to 80 I discovered the new Berkeley Bowl West. Heaven for sure. Since my new obsession is specialty markets, and I used to shop at the original location back when I lived in North Oakland, this was awesome. Of course, I was a little tipsy from having two beers and no food in my system, so that didn't really make for an awesome experience. But I will definitely have to go back soon.

The East Bay is a magical place. My cousin Nikki described it best. "You can see the City from here, without being in the City."

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Murder is messy, these songs aren't.

2010-09-15T00:42:00.001-07:00

When I don't feel like burying the evidence of a homicide, or hacking up body parts into a billion little pieces after a long day of bad shit, I listen to these songs.

Beck is almost as good as a Beck's at the end of a whacked out day. This song is like beer to my heart. Wait, that didn't sound right. Whatever. Figure it out. I actually felt like hanging myself with a guitar string or waiting for some thugs to cap me with a drive by body-pierce. But no luck.

"I hate people when they're not polite." 'Nuff said.

Where have they gone? I think all the dancers in the videos stole them all.

Dude, don't get pulled over by the karma police cuz you're fucked. True story.

This song helped me make it through high school, it'll get me through grad school too. "I'm so ugly, it's ok cuz so are you." Oh, Kurt, why did you shoot yourself so early in my life?

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I leave my heart here on a regular basis.

2010-09-10T23:19:00.001-07:00

I use art school as an excuse for randomly snapping pics of my favorite city. But the truth is I'd probably take pictures of SF even if I were an accountant.

See the full gallery on posterous

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Fiesta Time

2010-08-25T23:33:00.001-07:00

I love going to the Latin food store when it's hot outside because I feel like I'm actually south of the border instead of East San Mateo at the Fiesta Latina store. This, of course is the Argentine aisle because I needed some more alfajores, dulce de leche, dulce de batata con chocolate, yerba mate and other goodies. Plus, it's fun going to a store where it's almost expected that you speak Spanish.

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The Best Coast

2010-08-25T00:13:00.001-07:00

Today I took the road less traveled, which is not easy to do in California since there always seems to be someone on the road with you. (Usually tailgating your ass.) But today I had the road all to myself. And that rocked.

Since the Bay Area was under a severe heat advisory, I decided I needed to get as far away from my inland home as possible. It was time to head out to the coast again. (Because here you can only do that on really hot days or September.)

I had a mission to accomplish. Well, a few, actually. The first one was to carjack my cousin's BMW coupe with sunroof for my joyride down the coast with my favorite iTunes playlist. Oh, yeah, and enjoying some oysters.

Mission accomplished. After a few detours and slow traffic thanks to Caltrans and our state's necessity to constantly improve its logistical infrastructure, I made it down Highway 1 and into Point Reyes Station ready to get my grub on.

Since I was completely lost and my iPhone was sans 3G (again!), I went to the first dining establishment I could find.

The Pine Cone Diner seemed like one of those little coffee shops that screams "Americana" if Americana was organic. It's too cute for words. I like sitting at the booths in those kind of places just because I can eavesdrop on local gossip. Not that I really care, but it can be pretty entertaining.

I ordered the fried oyster sandwich with fries - a.k.a. Oyster Po' Boy. Yummy. But deep fried rich mollusks aren't really my thing when it's 90 degrees outside.

So, I decided to explore the rest of the three block town in search of Cow Girl Creamery. While I was exploring, I got an iced latte at Toby's, an awesome little general store with gourmet foods and cool little gift items. I then headed toward Bovine Bakery (odd name for a bread place) to buy a whole wheat roll with the cheese I would be getting.

I did find the creamery, but it just so happens that they're closed on Tuesdays. Fail. So, it was on to fulfill my other mission of making it to the ocean.

Driving down Highway 1 and through Inverness, I made it to Point Reyes National Seashore. Talk about awesomeness. After driving through five "historic" ranches that have been around since the 1850s and an infinite number of cows, I finally made it to the Lighthouse only to find out it was also closed on Tuesdays. (Duuuuude! Tuesday haters!)

But the view alone was worth it. Beating a bunch of European tourists, I made it to the edge of the cliff first to see all of Drakes Bay and the Pacific past it. It wasn't the clearest of days but I was still able to see the Farallon Islands and all the way down to San Francisco and San Bruno Mountain.

See and download the full gallery on posterous

On the way back out of the park through more fields of stinky bovines, I veered off to a little dirt road that lead to Drakes Oyster Company.

They were farming some oysters and dealing with some annoying tourists. But good news: I was finally able to purchase some Cow Girl Creamery cheese. No oysters though since they weren't going to make it back home with me.The cheese stunk up my handbag but made it home ok. It totally smelled like cow, but tasted like heaven, so I guess it's all paid off in the long run.

Day trips give you a sense of appreciation for nearby areas close to home. Needless to say, I was also able to reconnect with the road. Considering that I normally commute about 100 miles a day, I've realized that driving someone else's car, and a manual one, at that, makes you appreciate the road a whole lot more. I was finally Sunday driving on a Tuesday. And that made all the difference.

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Who's your Padron?

2010-08-15T00:03:00.001-07:00

In Spanish, a Patron is a boss of some sort. But what is a Padron? This was the subject of at least ten minutes debate during our family dinner conversation this evening. Even our guest of honor, my cousin from Barcelona, couldn't fathom what it meant.

Padron, as it turns out is a county in Galicia (Spain), where the most awesomnest of peppers grow. The Pimentos de Padron are definitely something I look forward to every summer. I get them from work, and of course, we get them from Happy Quail Farms in East Palo Alto. (San Mateo County represent!)

These little peppers are so fun to prepare and eat. You basically sautee them in olive oil, sprinkle some course salt on them and serve. (You can also deep fry them, grill them, etc.) But I prefer the traditional method. I got about five 1/4 pound bags, so I ended up putting them all on my griddle.

Although, I could probably eat only Padrons and be happy with just that for dinner, I had six other people over for dinner, so that wasn't going to cut it. I opted for a Catalunyan treat such as pan amb tomaquete, which is basically bread with garlic, olive oil and tomato slathered all over it. This of course goes really well with some Jamon Serrano, or ham and Spanish chorizo. (Yes, there is a difference between Spanish and Mexican chorizo.)

And of course, some Dulce de Mebrillo (quince paste) with Manchego cheese and dates.

I tend to get carried away with my tapas. So, I had to remember to let everyone save some room for the main course. I made two different paellas. The first was a chicken and chorizo with asparagus, baby corns, and sherry.

The second was of course a seafood paella with shrimp, mussels, clams, artichoke hearts and baby corns and served with some saffron alioli (aioli).

Somewhere along the way there were some roasted aspagus and a frisee salad with a lemon vinegrette and parmesan cheese. And sangria! But my absolute success of the evening was the lemon and marcona almond torte with dulce de leche served with a side of cherry compote in a port reduction and some spicy chocolate sprinkled on top. (Even grandma liked it.) Unfortunately, I didn't think to take any pics of that before it was gone.

But all in all a success, which makes me happy because it's tough cooking Spanish food for actual Spaniards. I mean, I cook it all the time, but we're all Argentine, so of course we're not really Spanish. However, now I am convinced that if necessary, I can move to Spain and work at a restaurant. I consider it good to have these skills because one never knows where life will take you.

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Empty Stomach Required

2010-08-10T16:10:00.001-07:00

To say that I like food is a huge understatement. It's like saying a fashionista just likes clothes.

Not to sound like the total spoiled brat that I can be sometimes, but I have to declare here and now that I've become accustomed to finer things in life. So, if that means a $60 bottle of wine, designer handbags and artisan cuisine, so be it.

However, since I am on a grad student budget these days, I will refrane from purchasing expensive bottles of wine and brand named fashion accessories. Yet, I will never skimp on the good stuff: FOOD.

I think this year that I have spent in the North Bay has managed to make me even more of a food snob than I was before. Maybe it's because I sell specialty foods and wine, or maybe it's just because I'm surrounded by so much good, fresh, local and organic stuff everywhere I turn.

I'm lucky enough to live in Sonoma where I can get farm fresh eggs and produce just down the street, or I can drive up to Napa, only 15 minutes away, at Oxbow Public Market for what I can only refer to as "Foodie Heaven". (And even that doesn't do it justice.)

I like to consider myself a connoisseur of public markets. They are my absolute favorite place to play. (Aside from Sephora, of course.) I'm well acquainted with Pike's Place Market in Seattle, The Ferry Plaza in SF, and the largest public market in the southern hemisphere - Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne, Australia.

Oxbow is fairly new compared to the others I just mentioned, but can definitely compete in the same category. Since today was Tuesday, they had their morning farmer's market until noon, which of course rocked my world. It's certainly not the largest farmer's market I've ever been to, or even the most extensive one. (I think Ferry Plaza has everyone beat there.) However, it did have plenty of fresh produce from both the Napa and Sonoma. They also had samples, which just makes eating your way through a market so much more affordable. They're also a great way to get kids interested in eating fruits and veggies, as I've noticed. There were tons of children running around clutching giant bags of kettle corn and sampling fresh ripe strawberries from Watsonville. Mmmmmm.

After sampling enough fruits to meet our daily intake requirements, my cousin and I headed inside the market. This is where the fun starts. Empty stomachs are highly recommended. Inside we walked around the Oxbow Produce and Grocery where we cringed at overpriced artisan pastas for the pesto macaroni and cheese that I am planning to make tomorrow.

Moving on, we headed to the wine and cheese section, where joy of joys I found butter from New Zealand. Not that I really eat butter, but I had to get some even if it wasn't local because I love anything that comes from Kiwi country. We then realized we hadn't yet had our daily dose of coffee and made a pit stop at Ritual Roasters where they totally glamorized my latte, followed by a stop at Kara's Cupcakes for a Fleur de Sal chocolate cupcake with caramel goodness in the middle. I'm a total coffee snob, so I take my espresso seriously and Ritual passes the test with flying colors - smooth, rich and complex flavors without being too strong or heavy. (Plus, they make the little design in the foam, which always makes me happy.)

Oxbow also has an Olive Press, where you can try all kinds of olive oils from Arbequina to Sevillana with Mission thrown in there somewhere. Eating lunch there is a tough choice especially when you're hungry. I had originally headed over there for some Gott's Roadside, which of course one can never get enough of considering I had just had some on Saturday in St. Helena between spa time at Calistoga and Dean & Deluca. There's just so much to choose from. I was really tempted to forgo the Gott's for some empandas and arepas at Pica Pica Maize Kitchen. But my cousin had already gotten psyched up for the delectible sweet potato fries with aioli ranch dressing at Gott's and I only had room for a vanilla coke and grilled cheese sandwich in my tummy. (Not the monstrousity I had on Saturday.)

There is too much good stuff to see all in one trip, which means, I'm going to have to head back up to Napa ASAP to finish this culinary adventure.

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Untitled

2010-07-04T23:55:00.001-07:00

I love the Fourth of July. It's my all-time favorite holiday, next to Christmas, of course. I was glad I had the day off today to actually enjoy the festivities in town. Sonoma had it's annual "Down-home Parade". (Yes, they actually do call it that.) I'm not a huge fan of parades, in general, because I think they're stupid and useless. However, I will go to a parade if there is food at the end of it. I mean, I'm not a fan of standing for hours when it's already getting hot in the shade. It's nice to be able to see what's going on in town, all the people wearing red, white and blue, the classic cars, and marching bands. Plus, it's nice to be rewarded with a 1/4 lb. hot dog and beer after the whole thing. (A cake from Whole Foods made of raspberries and blueberries . . . mmm.)

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Don't Cry for Me Argentina

2010-07-04T00:17:00.001-07:00

I woke up early this morning to watch the Argentina vs. Germany game. The euphoria from our last win against Mexico was still in my system. But I was in for a real disappointment. I was in store for some serious shock and awe. Where was my undefeated team? Who were these guys wearing the blue and white jersey? Needless to say, it ruined my day . . . which seemed to drag because everyone I encountered reminded me how my team had lost.

Argentina is not my birth country; I've only been there once and have minimal contact with my family over there, unless you count random Facebook wall posts and Skype messages. But being first generation Argentine-American, I take pride in all things from my parents' and grandparents' country.

I prefer yerba mate to coffee, dulce de leche to caramel, and futbol to football. And although I have a small percentage of German in my genetic make-up, I was still saddened to see Diego Maradona's team get cut off from the finals this time around. Afterall, I've grown up watching him single-handedly win World Cups for Argentina.

World Cup soccer has always been a huge event in my family. We'd have people over, empanadas were made, coca-cola and beer were poured. My dad would barbecue some Italian sausages to serve on French bread with chimichurri and my mom would braid my hair with a ribbon that looked like the Argentine flag.

And although I've lost a few chins since then, I haven't lost my love for the game. Just like my dad always tells me: "I don't care what you do in your life just promise me that you'll never become a vegetarian or root against Argentina." Like that would ever happen.

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Don't Cry for Me Argentina.

2010-07-04T00:13:00.001-07:00

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What a Lovely Way to Burn

2010-06-29T15:39:00.001-07:00

Just having come back from a month of 40 degree weather in Australia and New Zealand, I've had a rough time reacclimating to California summer weather. Traveling from one hemisphere to another is tough enough, but when you go from one season to another within 13 hours, it's murder. It's been 90 degrees in Sonoma Valley these last few days, so I figured it would be a good excuse to find some peace on the coast. So, my cousin, Rachel, and I headed to Doran Beach in Bodega Bay on the Sonoma coast with Riley, her crazy Jack Russell. What a perfect day. There's nothing like listening to the sound of the waves crashing gently on the soft, warm sand with a fog horn moaning loudly in the distance. While Riley ran around and chased the ball into the water, I took a nap and caught up on my reading and . . . tanning, which quickly turned in to burning.

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got shit?

2009-07-12T00:27:00.000-07:00

So, I recently found another annoying habit of people that I have decided to add to my ever-increasing list of pet peeves. My latest one is definitely relevant in my current life phase as a past and future advertising professional. I call it the "got shit? phenomenon".

This is the whole "got something?" fad that came from my all-time favorite ad campaign and reason I decided to go into advertising.

You know what I'm talking about, right? Goodby, Silverstein and Partners' 1993 "Got Milk?" campaign. Not only did it make milk cool, but it also came in handy during an 8th grade US History quiz as well.

But for all its genius, it also managed to spawn the evil of all evils . . . copy-cat copy - the worst offending crime known to popular culture, and humanity as a whole, I think.

We've all born witness to it. The bumper sticker that reads: "got God?" (or its Marinite equivalent, "got Dog?") the t-shirt that says: "got adobo?" the homeless dude on the curb with a cardboard that reads: "got cash?", a hooker on the corner shouting: "got date?" . . . ok, you get it, right?

For crying outloud, I just saw another bumper sticker this morning on 101 that said: "got lobster?"

Seriously, folks . . . WTF? Can't you people come up with your own original tag-line for whatever shitty ass thing you're trying to promote or show that you love?

I mean, I'm sure the people at Goodby were probably flattered sixteen years ago when the phenomenon first appeared, maybe even stoked that their tag-line had become such a popular culture icon . . . the Paris Hilton of advertising copy. But come on, people . . . enough already! I'm sure that like the rest of us, they cringe every time a car passes by with some stupid bumper sticker that asks us if we're missing anything with two words and a question mark.

For the love of popular culture . . . and humankind, in general, I beg all of you to stop attempting to think you're being witty by using a tactic that was employed in the '90s to sell us all on the wonderful benefits of dairy.

Thus, in a language only these offenders of pop culture would understand I pose this question: "got originality?"

Ruminate on that for a few seconds . . . or while watching this and revert back to this posting next time you feel so inclined to deface your rear bumper or a 100% cotton t-shirt with such blasphemy.

i want to start a tribe of positive people . . . who's with me?

2009-07-07T18:22:00.000-07:00

I recently finished reading an awesome book that has changed my way of thinking. It's almost safe to say that it's even changed my life a little. Not only is a book that I highly recommend everyone to read, but it's also a book I'll probably be passing a long to my friends. (And I'm sure the author would highly approve that move.)

Let me back it up and explain why this book has had such a great impact. (It's not a self-help book . . . well, not in the traditional sense, anyway.) I've been down and out a lot recently. Not quite depressed, as in can't get out of bed, and need to be heavily medicated or have a labotomy . . . but just bummed out. I blame it all on our economy because that's the root of my issue(s). You tend to see things differently when you get laid off and pushed out of your comfort zone. It makes you question things a lot of things - especially when you get sick and end up paying a $75 co-payment at the "free" clinic, or have to move in with family and are stuck working at Starbucks for minimum wage. Seriously, the only thing that gets me out of bed is the promise of good things to come.

That's where positive thinking comes in. Lots and lots of positive thinking. It can be draining at times and I know it's not really going to solve any major issues in the world, but I also know it's a great start.

So, back to this book. It's called "Tribes", by the way, and it's by Seth Godin. It's all about starting your own movement and creating change in a stagnant world just by leading and motivating people to follow your lead. Inspiring shit, indeed.

It made me realize that you should never really give up on ideas you've had in the past, but should instead try to focus more on the bigger picture. I've been thinking a lot about an idea I had a while back (like ten years ago) and it's been a dream of mine pretty much since I was a journalism student. But you know how dreams are . . . most of the time life gets in the way.

I've decided that enough time has passed and that now more than ever is a great time to revisit this dream. The original idea had been to create a website-ezine targeting 20-somethings who were stuck living at home with their parents because the whole "adultolescent" trend was so big back then. It was more of a guide or how-to survive in the real world. Unfortunately, most of my friends and I had no real idea about the "real world". We were still in college, working at coffee shops and living with our parents, of course. Hell, we were all pretty spoiled.

Ten years later . . . and most of my friends and I have had the chance to try out the "grown up" world, moving out of our parent's houses, finishing college, finding jobs, leasing apartments, buying cars, getting laid off, and coming full circle to move back in with the parental units. The point is that we've had a little more experience in life and have something to show for it, I guess.

(Although right now my greatest achievements, aside from going back for my Master's, is learning about Spanish wines and learning how to make soap.)

This brings me to my main point: in times of increased unemployment and economic downturn people become more resourceful and creative. (i.e. soap making, art made from recycled materials, home vegetable gardening, etc.) Most people also create movements of their own by starting their own non-profit organizations to help those in need. Activism also increases as people fight to create change. (We've already witnessed this with the Obama campaign.) We have some great tools available today to promote these great deeds. Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook and Myspace are great for this . . . the only problem is that there is so much other shit available on these sites that all the organizations and cool projects people are doing get pushed down by stupid quizzes and status updates from people that Twitter every five seconds about irrelevant things.

So, here's where my original idea gets tweaked a little. I want to create a forum specifically for people doing great things to make positive change in this world - whether building furniture out of recycled materials, or starting a non-profit that changes people's perceptions of sociological issue. I want to showcase the good deeds of the world and help people see that positive change can happen and that they can help create it!

Who's with me?

going native

2009-06-26T14:39:00.000-07:00

I think I might have been a little too quick to underestimate the socio-anthropological effect that Twitter has had on our current culture. I'm a beast. I admit. Now, lets move on before I offend any more Tweeters.

I have a few friends who seems just as addicted to it, as I am to Facebook. They live and breathe it. There pro argument is that it saves them from having to send out instant messges or texts to multiple people. It's short and sweet.

Whatever their reasons for using it, I have to respect that . . . and observe. This is exactly what I plan to do. For several months, I have been blogging about random things such as my life and basically whatever tickles my fancy. And sadly, the only person who has read my blog is my mother. (Love ya mom!)

Not that I have anything earth shattering to say, or incredibly inciteful wisdom to imparte on the world, but I like sharing things with people and hoping they share back with me. Afterall, isn't that the whole point of blogging and being online?

Thus, I've decided to use Twitter and Facebook as the two forums in which to promote my blog in hopes that someone (other than my mother) will read it.

lameass216: picking my nose and playing halo on my xbox

2009-05-06T17:26:00.000-07:00

Crack is whack . . . and so is Twitter. I had signed on to it months ago when the company had started to see what it was all about . . . and then had completely forgotten about it until a few weeks ago when I was messaged by an old friend.

This somehow began a whole frenzy of cyber-stalking people that went above and beyond creeper status. Suddenly I found myself not caring about what others were writing every five seconds, but about what I was going to write next to compete with their "oh-so-interesting" statuses.

Some poor choices included:

chocobean: getting fucking hammered at The Swinging Doooooooor!

Which was followed by:

chocobean: making out with EVERYONE in the bar!
like 15 seconds later!

Ok . . . and for the record, I didn't make out with any strangers that night. But I did manage to make an ass of myself to everyone on Twitter.

I soon came to find that I was "tweeting" like every minute on average whether on my computer or via cell phone web browser. I was addicted to letting everyone in cyber-world know what I was thinking or doing at that very second!

And then I took a breath and started reading other people's lame ass statuses.

That's when I realized that Twitter is NOTHING like Facebook. (My true addiction). These people were talking about geeked out techie shit that I could care less about. I wondered if they ran out of status update material if they would resort to talking about their bowel movements or how many times they managed to jerk off in those two seconds.

Plus, I missed my peeps actually commenting on my stuff (or the ability to comment on their stuff). That's the love right there. You can be on Twitter to stalk folks, or even write about yourself and I'll still respect you . . . but I'll love you even more if you're commenting on my statuses and links on Facebook.:-)

whopper of a virgin

2009-02-08T21:03:00.000-08:00

So, ask anyone in advertising and they'll tell you that the Burger King account is the most creative and biggest account out there today. Personally, I hate the whole creative for this campaign because I find it incredibly sophomoric. It's like one of those fake commercials they do on Saturday Night Live . . . wait! Hold it. It is!

really?! wtf!

2009-02-08T20:49:00.001-08:00

I'd boycott Kelloggs, but Eggos and Pop-Tarts are so damn good when you're stoned.

catching up

2009-02-02T21:03:00.000-08:00

I love free stuff. Who doesn't? I still heart Pandora.com and it's free music-radio thing. But now I'm addicted to Fancast and Hulu. What are those, you may ask? Television. Yes, television on your computer. For free! Now, I can catch up on all the "Bones" episodes I've missed because I don't know what day it's on or "Medium" because it's on at the same time as "Trust Me." And best of all, right now I'm catching up on the Super Bowl commercials, without having to sit through the stupid football game and cheesy half-time show. Seriously, we all know the commercials are the best part.

And here are a few of my favorite ones:

hey, americanos don't have foam!

2009-01-26T13:30:00.000-08:00

misadventures in grocery shopping

2009-01-21T11:42:00.000-08:00

There is no chore I despise more than shopping for food. Give me a scum filled tub, a bacteria infested toilet bowl, let me dodge shady-looking dumpster divers while throwing out my trash - hell, I'd even prefer to clean a cat box than go to the supermarket on a weekend.

No matter how many lists, I write, I still always forget something. And then even if I go on a full stomach, I end up buying more than I need to. I was doing the Whole Foods thing for a while, but took a hiatus because of its urban name. I was obviously spending way more than any single person should ever spend on food.

Seriously, who needs pre-cleaned and chopped butternut squash? And a box of pomegranate seeds? Well, that's just lazy.

Having recently started Weight Watchers, I figured I'd go to a big-chain supermarket, to get some of the brand named goodies. Surely, that would be cheaper. What I found astonished me. Not only was my purchase $20 more than at Whole Foods, I bought nothing but processed non-organic foods that left me bloated and subsequently a pound heavier at weigh in that week.

Note to self: no more processed foods!

There is something to be said about the taste of air chilled chicken and grass-fed beef as opposed to their counterparts, frozen chicken and hormone induced beef which both have no flavor. The same goes for genetically engineered mutant tomatoes versus fresh-from-the-farm vine ripened ones.

And if you're thinking of telling me so, save it - Trader Joe's is no bueno. More processed frozen meals for lazy singles who end up spending way too much on frozen Ahi tuna steaks that will just make them sick. I'm speaking from experience, of course. I still end up spending much less than at the big box grocers like Walmart and FoodMaxx. Who needs that much food? So, here are the shopping tips I've come up with these last few years of trial and error:

Fresh is good. Doesn't have to be organic, if you're not into that -especially if you're worried about price. Think of it this way, the fresher it is, the more flavorful it is. That already means less salt and other seasonings needed.
500 milligrams is the maximum sodium a person should ingest daily. Watch out for high sodium foods like canned soups and frozen meals that go above 250 mg.
Look for specials. I hate clipping coupons - but if I see something on sale that's similar to what I need I'll take that instead.
Ditto for private label brands (sorry, using fashion terminology). I always tend to go for Whole Food's 365 Brand as well as Target's brand. It's the same damn thing, probably even packaged by the same damn manufacturer.
5.) Don't fall for BOGOs. Although these Buy One, Get One for half off items might sound like good deals, they're really not. It's just another way to get you to buy something you wouldn't normally purchase. Duh!
6.) Don't go to a supermarket, or any market, drunk, stoned, tired, or hungry because you know you'll just want EVERYTHING. And I don't mean just a bag of Cheetos.
Unless you have a back problem, avoid the shopping cart. Stick to a basket. This way you only buy the things that fit in the cart. Plus, think of it as a good way to work your core and arm muscles.
8.) Have a menu and a list planned out. This will help you get your shit together when you're in the store. If you can't decide what your menu for the whole week is just get staples and it will all come together.
Visualize your local market when you put this list together. A plan of attack usually works best. Know your battlefield and avoid the mines such as the candy and snack aisles. (Frozen foods too, for that matter.)I try to categorize my items by sections making a circle around the store. Think of it this way: all the staples such as breads, meats, dairy and produce can be found in the parameters of the market. The rest is all crap.
Keep it interesting. Shop more than once a month. Fresh is key. Hell, shop more than once a week at first, then you can cut it down to only once. I like to get all my staples once a week and make a few different items with them so that I'm never bored.

Happy shopping.

killer shoes

2008-12-17T17:00:00.000-08:00

Oh, G.W. . . . looks like you're not as retarded as I thought you were. I still loathe you though.

simply perfect

2008-11-19T23:26:00.000-08:00

I’d heard mixed reviews about Bakesale Betty’s signature fried chicken sandwich. Someone told me it wasn’t worth standing in a line that wrapped around Telegraph Avenue; others chided me for not having tried it yet. I must admit that after living in Oakland for nearly four years, I was slightly embarrassed at not having made the effort to try the sandwich.

The key to avoiding the massive lunchtime line is not arriving for the noon rush. There was still a cue when I arrived, but it moved quickly as the attentive staff seemed to almost guess what I needed. Fried chicken sandwich: Check. Add to that a freshly made pecan shortbread cookie and lemonade slushy. Seven bucks and change; I was good to go.

Heeding the warning of a colleague who made the mistake of taking his sandwich back to the office, I decided to stay put to enjoy the meal at its freshest. The restaurant doesn’t have any indoor seating. Heading outdoors to the colorful wooden ironing boards that line Telegraph Avenue sidewalk, it suddenly dawned on me that this was a perfect fall afternoon in Oakland. The sunlight was intensely bright in my eyes, but nothing could distract me from this sandwich. Even the street performer playing Neil Diamond’s greatest hits on his guitar could not distract me from enjoying this simple pleasure.

Some of the best foods are the simple ones that provide three component ingredients: sustenance, flavor and comfort. This seemingly simplistic sandwich, reminiscent of the New Orleans Po’ Boy because of the French roll it’s served in, is possibly one of the best chicken sandwiches I had ever devoured. (Yes, devoured. As in “Finger Lickin’ Good”.) Its “Southern” charm is definitely evident in the crispy and tender chicken. The subtlety of the spice hits you only when combined with the tangy cold slaw. Forget the poultry, the slaw is the main attraction. Crisp and full of flavor, it hits all the right notes with the help of cilantro, vinegar and pickled red onions – because everything tastes better with pickled red onions.

The only thing that could possibly distract me from enjoying my sandwich was a brain freeze from the lemonade slushy. Note to self: Enjoy with a PBR next time. The sandwich is huge, so I suggest bringing a friend to share it with if you’re going for lunch. I made the mistake of eating the entire thing myself. This sandwich is not something you want to eat a few hours later either. This meal was simply the best thing for this perfect fall day in Oakland.

i am in good hands

2008-11-16T21:49:00.000-08:00

There are some things you can control in life like ending toxic relationships, avoiding eating seconds, and doing something completely unethical to elevate your status.

Then there are those things you cannot control in life like ants invading your desk, the vending machine going crazy and being rear-ended on a Friday morning on your way to work.

Great. I just wrote copy for an auto insurance advertisement. That's what I get for having thought those commercials were cheesy. But I have to say that I'm seriously glad it's law to have insurance , especially when you're at a stop light and someone hits you from behind at 40 miles per hour because they lost control of their breaks.

The first thing I screamed in my car as I sat up from my fully reclined driver's seat was, "Omigod! Omigod! I've been hit. I hope they pull over to the side." I've had issues with people hitting me and running. (The old bitch in Burlingame with the red Cadillac, you know who you are!) Not to be ageist, but I flinch every time I see someone with gray hair behind the wheel. My grandmother is eighty-four and still driving. She probably shouldn't drive, but I understand the independence thing. The difference is that she doesn't drive around areas she doesn't know.

I also remember watching this thing on Dateline a while back about how people involved in collisions where the seats reclined were more likely to be paralyzed because of the strain on the neck and vertibrae. I was in shock, but was able to drive my car to the side of the road and get out of my car mumbling and freaking out because I couldn't find my left flip flop.

It seems the only parties that suffered any major injuries in this accident were our cars. Mine got the brunt of the damage losing part of the bumper in the middle of the road and the other part was kicked off by the CHP at the scene.

But not being hurt doesn't mean that I'm not traumatized or that I didn't have that life-can-be-gone-in-a-blink-of-an-eye moment. But it does make you realize how short life is. I don't believe in coincidences, but I do believe that things happen for a reason. Maybe this was a wake up call. And just like escaping the pink slip these days, there's something surreal about coming close to ending up on the other side and escaping it. The whole thing just makes you want to start living life to the fullest - whatever that might mean. I'm sure I have a purpose in life and I'll figure it out some day. In the mean time, I'm just going to take deep breaths, cut out the bad and let in the good. Kudos to my guardian angel.

For someone who functions on crisis mode this was not my idea of a rush. I'm not a fan of waiting in an ER room next to someone getting a catheter inserted who knows where. Too much reality for one morning.

Now I have to sit tight and see what happens to my Honda. I was able to drive it to work and the body shop two blocks away from my office. All my coworkers were in agreement that it was totalled. You know it's bad when it sounds like your car is going to fall apart if it goes faster than 35 miles per hour and the seat doesn't want to go up all the way.

None of this surprises me, I guess. There was a full moon out this week and I did find a cracked mirror in my purse. Not being superstitious I tossed it in the garbage can. But now I know why my desk was the only one invaded by ants, and it would also explain why the vending machine went mad. Maybe the insurance companies should mention those variables when helping people choose their policies.

learning to live within our means

2008-10-17T13:55:00.000-07:00

They were playing that "Money, Money, Money . . . Money!" song at Semifreddi's this morning. As I stood in line for my latte and almond croissant one of the girls that worked there told her coworker: "Like the song says, money do change people."

Not having any myself, I would not know this from personal experience. But I'll take her word for it. I wonder if rich people even know the meaning of "living within their means"? It's a sentiment that has been echoing this nation, and especially throughout my office today as we laid off three more employees.

Our company, like many other small businesses won't get the benefit of the $7 billion bailout. But then again, it seems like the wealthy always get the perks. (Just like those bitches that get free designer dresses to walk down the red carpet with! You know who you are . . . Paris Hilton!)

I digress, the real issue here is not fucking "Joe the Plumber" who's real name is not Joe and who indeed is not even a real plumber. (He's actually an IRS delinquent who owes $1200 in back taxes.)

The economy sucks ass indeed. Thanks, Dubbya! It's great to see a president leave such an enduring legacy.

land time forgot . . .

2008-10-14T10:03:00.000-07:00

I really wish someone had warned me about Eugene, Oregon before I made the Amtrak reservations. I wish they had told me how it’s a tiny little middle of the road town with no real attractions or sights.

Had I been warned, I might not have requested a stop in the Godforsaken two-horse town. I would have stayed on the train to Sacramento.

But c’est la vie. And I’m not all-together that upset about it now. I’ve had a few hours to mope around the town, kill time at a Japanese sushi bar that only served imitation crab meats in its rolls, and loiter in the Hilton ordering another Pepsi – my greatest vice these days.

Not nearly as impressive as Seattle or Portland, but decent nonetheless. At first impression, it’s the sort of town that seems a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll all in one. It reminded me of home, which is not necessarily something I want to be reminded of.

We stayed in The Hilton, which looked like it might have been the fanciest hotel in town. I’m not complaining –it was only two blocks from the train station.

Having arrived on a Sunday there was not much open and the city was not particularly erupting with a vivacious nightlife –or any signs of life, for that matter.

I settled into what I imagine to be our four-star hotel (by their standards, I’m sure) and after looking over a map of the city decided to check out the various amenities.

There was a pool. Sweet. The whirlpool was not hot and it was outside in the crisp night air. Suck.

The saline pool made be so buoyant that I couldn’t really enjoy a good swim. Needless to say, I was incredibly thirsty after my float through the Dead Sea.

Pizza and a movie were the order for the evening. The hotel room service actually delivers a fresh, non-Di Giorno pie. So, after getting our one-topping pizza, and realizing that there was nothing better on TV than the Hilton Channel (It’s exactly what you think it is – a channel devoted to the life and times of Conrad Hilton, Paris’s great-grand-daddy) we ordered Mama Mia! OnDemand.

We were forced to evacuate, er, check-out of the hotel room by noon. So, after a quick breakfast at the hotel coffee shop, which included Tillamook cheddar cheese on every menu item.

Note to chef: just because we’re in Tillamook territory does not mean you have to oversaturate the menu with cheddar cheese. It does not pair well with Dungeness Crab – a’ight? Next time try a Jack cheese. (I will not apologize for my Californian culinary sensibilities and stoicism.)

Then it was off to explore the area. Bleh. I felt like I was back in Millbrae. Even El Sobrante has more charm. They do have emission-free busses though. That’s a plus.

Since we had like ten hours to kill until the train to Sacramento arrived in town, we moseyed on over to the waterfront park, since my mother seems to be obsessed with the Willamette River. (Pronounced: Wil-la-mette. I had been misprounouncing it this whole time.) Whatever. I have to admit it’s a really peaceful place.

Once you cross the pedestrian bridge to the park, you see a mini waterfall coming from a little lagoon toward the river. In the distance there were a bunch of geese squawking. The river itself took on a life of its own. With its gurgling mini-rapids and crystal clear water, I suddenly felt at peace. By the side of the river grew wild blackberry bushes – a sight you see all along the Pacific Northwest into California. I picked a few ripe ones as a quick snack before heading back into town.

There was more life in the park than there was all over the city thanks to Columbus Day. (Seriously, who celebrates this holiday anymore?) But just like I’ve experienced in my few days in Oregon, people are friendly, helpful and down to earth. Coming from urban-California, I find it extremely refreshing to have a complete stranger greet you with a simple “hello” and a “are you looking for something?” when they see you staring blankly at a map of their two block city.

Hmm . . . I wonder if it’s the ban on sales tax that makes them so peppy. And lucky for them, I like bridges.

spendy nice

2008-10-11T22:43:00.000-07:00

Portland is a nice city. People are nice. The food is nice. The architecture is nice. And the weather is nice. Well, okay, the weather is a bit nippy. And the prices are a bit spendy, as Oregonians would say.

Oregon as a whole is a nice state - and not just because they don't bother with sales tax. Portland seems to be quite the environmentally friendly place with distinct neighborhoods and great public transit. I'm a big fan of the streetcar that takes you to the Pearl District and the light rail that takes you to the 'burbs. But needless to say, I've become fond of the Pearl District. It's like Emeryville without the ghetto thugs hanging outside the Public Market and it also has a slight hint of Buenos Aires. It also has a cafe on every corner in the retail spaces below the condos. Emeryville has attempted this, but it just looks like an amusement park. This is organic, cohesive and sincere.

It's quiet, cool and collected. Portland seems to be one of those cities that has its shit together. (And more breweries per square mile.) As well as luxury condos that lease at $995. I'm tempted to move here now, especially now that the new trend in the Pacific Northwest is to turn condos into apartments.

It's also one of those unassuming cosmopolitan cities with a flare for the unpretentious. People still dress in jeans, beanies, sneakers and windbreakers. It has been so chilly here; however, that I had to make a pit stop at the Nordstrom's Rack where I found a decent Miss Sixty hounds tooth coat that fit me perfectly for less than $200. Scarves and gloves are also apropo in this city as you watch the elm trees lose their leaves front of Portland State University.

The food is also quite nice. The first evening, after unpacking at the chi-chi Modera boutique hotel, we hitched the #12 bus into the center of the city for dinner at the Portland City Grill on the 30th floor of a really tall downtown building. The view is amazing. As was the food. Not surprising since it's the same company that owns Berkeley's Skates on the Bay and a few other mid-enders in the Bay Area. I especially like the fact that I could enjoy California Roll as an appetizer before my seared Ahi tuna arrived - both perfectly paired with a Columbia River Riesling. (My mother predictably had the Napa Valley wine.)

Yesterday in the Pearl, we stopped at Caffe Delizia, a gelateria with elaborate pastries and desserts. The inside of the cafe looks like a piazza in Tuscany, with a faux olive tree to make its point. I have obviously tasted better desserts in the Napa Valley, of course. However, I was pleasantly surprised with this offering and ate it graciously. It was also quite full of heavy coat clad strollers ordering the fancy gelato offerings.

And, yes, people do stroll around here. They head into town with their families and friends for coffee, dinner or a brew no matter the hour or the weather. It's refreshing to be in a city where people actually walk down the wide side-walked avenues and where you're not smelling or hearing traffic jams and horns honking.

the siren got larangitis

2008-10-11T10:29:00.000-07:00

Exactly how many coffee shops are there in Seattle? I don't know exactly. There's one on every corner though. And considering there are about 600 Starbucks Coffee shops within the metropolitan area, that adds up a to a fairly nervous city. You would think.

But being the sappy corporate consumer that I am, I had to make a pit stop at the original Starbucks at Pike Place Market. And having devoted six years of my life to the company, I felt a bit verclempt when I realized that they still pull their espresso and say "thank you" after handing you your coffee. I would have like to have seen them call out my drink "double-tall nonfat extra-hot latte". But no such luck. Instead the register person throws the cup at the barista. I miss the good-old days.

I still got teary-eyed though. It must have been a great place to work at back in the early Schultz days before they over expanded to middle-America. I still got my mug. I collect Starbucks Coffee mugs from around the world. It's something I started doing when I worked for the company and grew out of collecting stuffed animals.

The rest of Pike Place Market is wonderful. It's a feast for the senses. So many sights, smells, sounds . . . you get the picture. I saw the biggest Alaskan King Crab legs I've ever seen and wished I had a kitchen to cook them in. Instead, I settled for Pike Place Chowder on the other side of the market, hidden behind some brick buildings and a couple of stoned street musicians playing Journey on an accordian a' la Weird Al. There was a line around the corner. Always a good sign.

The chowder in a sourdough bread bowl hit the spot. Creamy, cheesy and chunky with a fair share of Russet potatoes. Perfect for a cold and windy afternoon. Wish I could say the same for the bread. What can I say, I'm from San Francisco. Nothing compares to the sourdough from the City by the Bay.

After a quick stroll through the flagship Nordstrom's store in downtown, I headed back to the hotel. Just in time before the northern wind and rain started. First it hit Lake Union and then moved its way into town. A beautiful sight to see.

I took it as a sign to enjoy the Westin Hotel's swimming pool and jacuzzi one last time. And of course since it was raining - well, it was Law and Order marathons and room service to the rescue.

caffeine overload

2008-10-10T21:26:00.000-07:00

So, exactly how many coffee shops does Seattle have? A lot. I don't have an exact number of total coffee shops including independent and mom and pop shops, but I do know there are at least 600 Starbucks Coffee shops in Seattle. (And that's not counting Seattle's Best also owned by Starbucks.) Being a former SBUX employee, I just had to get my ass down to the original store down at Pike's Place Market. And being the complete sap that I am was somewhat moved by the whole experience.

cheapless in seattle

2008-10-09T10:48:00.000-07:00

Um, I meant to say "Sleepless".

The first thing I saw when I landed in Seattle, aside from the Boeing facilities, was this cheesy night shirt that had the title of the above mentioned movie. Bleh. Never a huge fan of that movie, per se, I'm still trying to figure out why the hell after 14 years people are so enamored by it.

Never underestimate the public's love for mush. However, I happen to have formed a little love affair myself thanks to that cheeseball movie. Being the materialist that I am, of course, it's not a person. Nope. I'm in love with the houses on Lake Union. They are the cutest thing ever! And guess what? The raft house that Tom Hank's character lived on is for sale. All yours for $5 million bucks. Now, tell me that's not romantic.

Sure about as romantic as drinking four lattes a day. No wonder they don't sleep around here. (And I thought it was due to the over-tucked bedsheets at the Westin.) I made the mistake of ordering a double-shot twelve-ounce latte yesterday at a bakery on Bainbridge Island. Hey, being used to weak-ass Starbucks Coffee, I assumed all Seattle joes were the same. My bad. The good thing is that it gave me a jump start to run down the last leg of the loading ramp before the ferry left port and I was stuck on the Orindaish looking island for another hour. Cute town but I wouldn't want to die there.

Besides I had already had my fill of quacks earlier in the day when we took the Duck Tours of Seattle. I really do like having an excuse to laugh and act like a total loser -especially when I'm somewhere other than where I live. It's a great way to see the city and go into Lake Union. I still want one of those duck whistles that make quacking noises. You know, the ones they give kids?

Prices here are pretty outrageous by Pacific Northwest standards, I think. I mean, you're not exactly living in Mediterranean climate. Prices aren't quite up to New York level yet, but definitely at San Francisco level. Still, just like there's Brooklyn and Oakland, there's got to be an affordable area to live in if you can handle the sporadic rain all year.

I do think I could get used to living here though if I had to. People are pleasant, though not incredibly out-of-their-way nice. I blame it on the cold weather. (Think Anchorage in the summer.) Right now it's like 50 degrees outside and I'm freezing in the hotel room staring that the dark rain clouds looming around the Space Needle. Seattle is the kind of city you'd move to if you don't particularly enjoy talking to people on an hourly basis. Although I'm sure once they've had their fourth espresso of the day they're ready to party.

in the spirit of irony

2008-09-30T09:32:00.000-07:00

I had dinner last night with an old childhood friend. We're the same age and have the same upper-middle-class upbringing, but living two completely separate lives. She's got a great career, thinking of starting a family and purchasing a house in our hometown with her husband. Meanwhile, I'm single, no prospects for a serious relationship, have an ambiguous career path and can barely afford to deal with my monthly rent. She's still upper-middle-class. I'm lower on the totem pole. (Another reason, I have no interest in attending my high school reunion.)

Anyways, we got to talking politics at dinner and she turns to me and says with all seriousness, "I always vote, but I can safely say this is the first time I'm actually looking forward to voting." My thoughts exactly. Although there was never a time I didn't feel like ousting the current fascest regime. I thought my friend had become politcaly enlightened through the course of leaving her upper-middle-class family for the real world. "Seriously," she said, "Obama scares me!"

I always find it amusing to encounter someone with different political views than me. I figure most of the people I know are in the same situation as me: broke, single, disenfranchised, jaded and hating on "The Man". Being surrounded by people just like me most of the day, it never occurs to me that someone my age could be a conservative Republican.

"What do you mean, he 'scares' you?" I asked hoping somewhere that I wouldn't hear anything remotely absurd, or some word vomit I'd already heard on Fox News. "All this talk of change," she said.

Yes, change is frightening. I agree. But at this point there are two ways we can go in this country: 1.) dive head-first into the macro-chasm that is the inevitable doom of our civilization as we know it by staying on the path we're already traveling or 2.) make some drastic changes where everyone chips in for the greater good. Oh, and of course, there's secret option #3: nuke the damn country and start from scratch.

That's not going to happen. (I hope.)

I've become a bit of a socialist these last few years. Perhaps its the fact that I can't afford to buy a house, pay up the wazoo to have less-than adequate HMO healthcare, and don't see the point in fighting a war that shouldn't even involve us. Maybe it's because of the people I surround myself with. Or, maybe I've always felt like this.

So, turning to my friend, I said, "Well, you know what scares me?" She was incredibly astonished at my answer. "Oh, I think it's brilliant what McCain did by choosing Sarah Palin as his running mate," she said to my horror.

Brilliant, yes indeed, as far as strategy goes. He obviously figured that if the Dems play the black card, he'd play the female card. (I'm not writing anything people don't already know.) I went into my "I hate Sarah Palin" tyrade. If I'd had a soap box, I would have stood on it for sure. "She hunts wolves from helicopters, she doesn't believe the ice caps are melting and that polar bears are endangered species. She doesn't believe in sex education in public schools, preaches abstinance while her 17 year old daughter ends up knocked up. She doesn't believe in equal pay for women and is anti-abortion even in cases of rape and insest." I forgot to add that she also practices witchcraft. But why make witches look bad?

Anyways, in the spirit of irony we're having a promotions contest to see which East Bay resident and reader of our paper could come up with the best and most catchiest ode to Sarah Palin. I really like this one. Hope the rest are just as awesome:

things are not FINE!

2008-09-30T09:21:00.001-07:00

www.thingsarefine.org

Palintology

2008-09-26T12:11:00.000-07:00

Ah, Keith Olberman - liberal muckraking at it's best. Sarah Palin, you never cease to amaze.

revenge of the nerds

2008-09-19T23:18:00.000-07:00

Bill Gates responds . . . finally

VERSUS

i was right all along

2008-09-15T23:47:00.000-07:00

Ever since the Republican National Convention I've been saying that Sarah Palin looks a hell of a lot like Tina Fey from SNL.

See for yourself:

in search of nice people

2008-09-09T22:52:00.000-07:00

Remember that bumper sticker that read "Mean People Suck"? I think I might have had that sticker on my first car back when I plastered the damn thing with stickers I bought on Haight Street.

Anyways, I was thrilled to learn that there are human beings behaving humanly online of all places. And why not? Most office people spend the most time online. I calculate roughly 6 of the nine hours I'm at work. (Although, now that I'm in charge of online advertising it's more like nine out of nine hours.)

So, as you can imagine, I manage to take some time off and surf the 'net while I'm at it. You know, the usual - IMing friends in New York, checking to see how many friend requests I have from old high school classmates on Facebook, and choosing what song I'd like on the Myspace profile. And of course, I have to get my daily dirt on Sarah Palin and update my blog or plan a getaway.

Sometimes, however, I need some advice on important and significant questions like: "Where should I eat for lunch?" Thank Jebus for forums like Yelp.com. (Yes, I'm a member there too.) It's always interesting to see how many people reply to a post. It's almost like doing an online social experiment.

I was craving some spicy soup today. Blame it on the change of weather. (Saturday was 100 degrees and Tuesday was 50 degrees). So asked of my fellow Yelpers, what soup would they recommend in my area that was soothing enough for the scratchy throat I was suffering from.

It just goes to show that I have more online friends, as Myspace and Facebook will show, because I got at least 40 responses within fifteen minutes of my original response. I got everything from types of soups, to restaurants to recipes. I even got a nasty response from someone who answered "warm jizz". How is one supposed to respond to that? "No thanks, semen gives me indigestion this early in the day."

But aside from that remark, I got a warm fuzzy feeling from my online experience. Although he probably already had a warm fuzzy feeling when he suggested that entree. In the end I settled for a health store version of instant freeze dried soup. (Ahh, organic potato leeks!)

polar bear hater

2008-09-08T17:20:00.000-07:00

By now anyone who reads my blog, or has know me since infancy knows my obsession and respect for the all powerful and majestic polar bear. I heart and respect Ewan McGreggor - not only for his awesome acting skills, but also because he dared to explore the bears in a documentary.

Sarah Palin, on the other hand, is on my shit list because she and the State of Alaska are sueing the U.S. Department of the Interior for adding the polar bears to the endangered species list. Well, fuck . . . I'm sure that if global warming weren't responsible for their demise, she can always arrange to hunt them from a helicopter, or something.

I like Alaska and feel honored at being one of the few people I know to have actually ventured to that gorgeous state. They have the tallest mountain in the country, awesome natural light shows and summer days where sunlight lasts way past midnight. I just don't understand how a place filled with so much natural wonder and beauty can be run by a small handful of ignorant white trash assholes. How is that fair?

I've spent eight years trying not to read or inform myself of anything political. Usually because I figure I can't change anything, so why bother. (Thank you George W. Bush for single-handedley unempowering my generation!) There's no use in having my blood boil over something that's inevitable. But this woman enrages me! I don't consider myself a feminist. Never have. Never will.

But this woman is so anti-feminist that I wouldn't be surprised if she revoked our right to vote. Anti equal pay for equal work and against a woman's right to choose she goes against everything my gender has fought for these last 80 years.

And my blood wouldn't be boiling right now if I wasn't getting harrassed with right-winged propaganda from the only member of my family who is obsessed with Palin and who actually voted for "The Shrub". (And yes, this is why I'm sending your calls to voicemail!) And the main reason I'm doing my research on this woman as well.

I work for an uber-liberal alternative newsweekly. What in anyone's right mind would have them believe I am anything but a liberal democrat? I'm not going to change my stance.

democracy . . . going once, going twice . . . SOLD!

2008-09-04T20:09:00.000-07:00

I'm not really looking forward to this election. I'm normally a glass full kind of girl, but at this point there have been so many greedy people using my cup to get endless free refills that I've become apathetic. And excuse me for being a pessimist, but I'm part of the generation who has lost faith in her country.

And I can tell you the exact date it all went down. Ok, I don't remember the exact date, but it was the second that Al Gore conceded the presidency to "The Shrub" as my leftist commi-lib uncle refers to him. I don't care if the chads were pregnant, hanging or constipated - I lost my naivete and all the pride I ever had for singing the Star Spangled Banner and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance every morning since grade school. (Yes, we did sing every morning in elementary school).

That said, I'm a little concerned that history will repeat itself and that again my vote will not count. Oh, I'll still vote, mind you. I just won't be thrilled about it. I'm already bitter that Hillary didn't win the primaries.

I have nothing against Obama. But now the Democrats look like sexists, especially since the Republicans have a female VP candidate. It just goes to show that Republicans have a ridiculous double standard when it comes to women in power. If she's a smart liberal woman like Hillary, she's seen as a power-hungry man-hating bitch. But if she's against a woman's right to choose and hunts moose, it doesn't matter if her teenage daughter is pregnant because she's a conservative who believes abstinence should be taught in schools. (A lotta good that did her daughter!)

Anyways, that's my two cents. And if I add it up with a bunch of other people's I might be able to buy my own democracy, or at least that book I saw on at a used book store in Oakland a while back.

Ahh, Food Porn

2008-08-29T23:56:00.000-07:00

I've been going through another one of my existential crises lately. This time it revolves mostly around the fact that I'm not someone who is meant to be chained to a desk for 9 hours a day. Just because I am good at Excel doesn't mean I enjoy compiling spreadsheets all day. And unlike my fellow coworkers who doodle on their note pads and yawn during sales meetings, IMing all day with friends who have more exciting lives in NYC is not going to make me a happier person.

So, what exactly does a girl who can't help rolling her eyes at management and sigh way too loud: "Oh, Gaaaaaaawd!" in the middle of a meeting then shrug it off as stretch do?

She get knives.

Now, I'm not rich. Obviously. But I try to make do with my budget. So, I headed to Target last weekend and purchased some decent knives. Now, they're not Top-Iron Chef quality. But they've been doing the trick so far.

This of course has gotten me even more interested in cuisine. I'm totally proud to say that I now cook and prepare all my meals at home. That's right: breakfast, lunch and dinner. I'm saving roughly 50 bucks a week, if not more. And I feel so much healthier.

It's my own version of Slow Food.

And speaking of which. I was privileged enough - or, quick enough - to grab a pair of tickets to the opening night of Slow Food Nation at Fort Mason. This is an all weekend event, but I only got tickets for the first night which was mostly for the hot shots of the trade and media. (Yes, there are some fabulous perks to my job that do make those mundane meetings worthwhile.)

A whole pavilion dedicated to all of my favorites: beer, wine, spirits, breads, olive oil, ice cream, tea, coffee, chocolate, honey, jams, fish, salumi. Total and utter food porn, as my future boss Tony Bourdain would say. This is hedonism to the tenth degree in foodie world.

So, for an event of this magnitude the extra ticket had to go to someone worthy. I chose my old Oakland roommate, culinary student, and connoisseur of all things gastronomic, J-Man. There's nothing better than having a fellow foodie who can lead the way to the good stuff.

We started with raspberry beer, made our way to the tandoori naan, then on to the fish. I have to hand it to Yoshi's for creating something that looked like, and had the texture of udon noodles out of squid. Then it was on to the cheeses, the wines, and olive oils. Some were sampled with bread and others were just sipped in cups. That's just hard-core. I did finally get to try Absinthe from Paris among other cocktails.

Now, I consider being a slow food foodie akin to being a Free Mason. I was actually five feet away from Alice Waters. Talk about wow factor. She's responsible, not only for the Gourmet Ghetto in Berkeley with Chez Panisse, but also for championing local and sustainable food as a way of life.

I have yet to dine at Chez Panisse, but everyone knows that the Alice Waters' disciples who end up opening restaurants are the most successful. You work for her, you're pretty much set for life. The East Bay inside joke among foodies is that even if her janitor were to open up a cafe it would someday earn a Michelin star. (Who knows if that's true, Chez Panisse only has one.)

But of course the best thing about being a VIP at any event is the goodie bag. A girl could get used to being pampered like that. Now that gets me off.

Yeah, I totally tried these pickles . . . the salmon roll was bomb. Pickles not to my tasting.

kicking squealing gucci little piggy

2008-08-23T12:28:00.000-07:00

I was super excited a few weeks ago when I got the free tickets from Another Planet, er, actually my office since I beat out everyone at work for the only pair of first night passes. I think my coworkers hated me a little more because of it. Like when I said, "Oh, can't you guys change the night for the after-work pool night because I can't make it?" They were like, "Fuck you, we feel so bad for you." and "Oh, poor baby, you're going to miss pool night because you're going to see Radiohead and Beck instead." Oh, right and how could I forget this one: "Haha, you're going to get all emotional." Yeah, I would have slapped on the heavy eye-liner if I hadn't started the day with a killer eye infection.

Yeah, it's tough being me.

Although not as tough as trying to enjoy a concert. I don't think I've ever had to work this hard to listen to a band in my life - and that includes all those times I sat by the radio to win tickets.

I'm not so young anymore. And that's why I'm really in pain. You can pierce your nose to make you feel young again, but it's just not going to do the trick when you have to go to an outdoor rock festival. The truth is I'm not 18 anymore, unlike my cousin, who's only complaint was the "creeper" standing next to her asking if the band was British and who they were.

I'm really glad she didn't tell me that during the show or I would have cut him with my compost-friendly cup of Heineken Light. I was already on-edge from having to walk to the other end of the park just to get my will-call tickets. And then having to stand in line for thirty minutes, followed by more walking, then another line to get in, followed by more walking, and a line to get my ID checked, more walking, a line for light beer, more walking, a line to order my flat bread pizza with nitrate free pepperoni, and then a line to pick it up, followed by even more walking.

I missed seeing Beck. That's one artist I'd really like to see in concert. But it was either going to the other end of the park and seeing him or missing Radiohead. We all have to pick our battles. Luckily, I did get a chance to see Oaktown local, Too Short. Groovy. I have a tiny crush.

But it was definitely all about Thom Yorke and the rest of the guys from cabeza de radio. I did feel bad for them because the sound system kept breaking up. They kept playing, but none of us losers in the back could hear any of it. Then he would have to apologize for the damn thing after the massive booing and random cursing: "Fuck Meyer Sound!" Aw, poor Meyer Sound, small Berkeley company gets a largely publicized gig and they fuck up.

Still, I asked myself last night as I crawled into bed after a hot shower, and two Duane Reade PMs if I would do this again given the chance. And you know I definitely would because "you do it to yourself, you do . . . that's what really hurts."

one shot

2008-08-19T21:16:00.000-07:00

We have this cool side-project going on at work. There's this camera the editorial department got as part of a circus promotion. So, we put film in it and are passing it around throughout the office to make a collage of East Bay images. Since there are roughly 30 people in my office and about 36 pictures in a roll of film, we basically get one shot. The best shot makes it into the paper.

So, imagine my frustration when I was handed the camera one day by accident. Great. I've had this thing for almost a week without any images coming to mind. I have tried to get rid of it by handing it off to another coworker, but was told to keep it a bit longer.

This really sucks because I've taken so many random images throughout the East Bay on my cell phone's camera. Good images too.

The pressure is intense. But I have a few ideas up my sleeve.

woke up this morning and 10 years had gone by

2008-08-16T22:06:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I left my hometown, which up until then was my one goal in life. Most people ask me where I grew up and I normally hesitate. The last time I said "Millbrae" one of my coworkers looked at me intrigued, "Norway?" I shook my head and corrected. "No, Millbrae," I repeated, "you know, across the bay . . . by the airport."

"Oh," he looked disappointed, "that would have been more interesting."

Yeah, well, we can't all be interesting. You can take the girl out of the Peninsula, but, well, you know . . .

I don't head into Millbrae much, unless it's for a trip to the airport because let's face it, that's pretty much all there is out there. Although, I believe they've opened a Chipotle where the Lyon's used to be. Ahhh, Lyon's, the only restaurant down the street from our high school and the place of so many fond memories. (Think Peach Pit)

Speaking of high school . . . apparently my class has decided to hold its reunion this October. (Wow, it seems like only yesterday that I was standing in line waiting for my Freshman student body card.)

Anyways, I was hoping they'd settle on December because that would have given me a little more time. But now, I only have two months to lose those fifty pounds I've been trying to lose these last ten years. Let's look at the check-list of all the things I should have accomplished in these last ten years, shall we:

1.) Lose 50 pounds --- working on it.
2.) Graduate from college --- check
3.) Move out of Millbrae --- check
4.) Get my own apartment --- check
5.) Have a "grown-up office job" --- check

Ok, so four out of five ain't bad. I'm leaving the marriage and kids for the twenty-year reunion.

Like any teen I had bad times in high school, but ultimately a great experience. It should be interesting to see what everyone is up to considering I already know what everyone is up to thanks to Facebook and MySpace. But it should be interesting to see people I've known since preschool all grown up.

In the meantime, I'm going to sit back and enjoy this YouTube clip and plan my diet of carrots and water for the next two months.

beers, bongs and barbecues

2008-08-12T13:16:00.000-07:00

I feel like I totally lost a month. July was here, and then it just disappeared. I'm sorry my dear readers if I have neglected all three of you. Not my intention. I think Mercury was out of retrograde and Jupiter had aligned with Mars coinciding in a super busy month. Needless to say both my liver and my sanity are slowly recovering. I blame it on the weed. No, the beer. No, the barbecue. Oh, fuck it. I blame it on all three.

Here's what happened while I was away . . .

Cried my eyes out at the six gay weddings I helped put togehter. Later celebrated with a drag king show at the White Horse Inn. Got hit on by my favorite peppy Puerto Rican, Papi Gil. By the time the "guys" came on stage was completely hammered.

As always found some time to unwind and detox in Sonoma. Nothing like watching fireworks between a row of grape vines.

The rest was much needed because the following week was the East Bay Express Best of the East Bay Party! Too much good stuff would have been the tag-line for that event if AM/PM hadn't already copywritten it. Totally excited about next year's. I'm all about parties. I was just happy my coz came to help out from Sonoma. Having a guest always gives me a great excuse to head over to The Dead Fish in Crockett. Brunching on crab benedict and other seafood goodies while sitting outside right above the Sacramento River is a perfect way to kick-off the weekend.

Discovered a new more distinguished Happy Hour at Periscope Cellars Wine Wednesdays. I believe my group was actually caught on camera scarfing down cheese and downing the wine. I'm still trying to find CBS 5's "Eye on the Bay" segment.

Had to have my fill of Kitty's of course. It had been a while since I'd gotten my $2 PBR on. I like to save the mojitos for our staff meetings.

Fell in love with Feist at The Greek Theater on the UC Berkeley campus courtesy of Another Planet Entertainment. She's so cute. I heart Canadian folk-rockers from Toronto even if the only song I really know is the one from the Apple iPod Nano commercial.

The next day it was off to The Warehouse Cafe in Port Costa. Sundays are apparently a special day at this bar that serves over 400 beers because they have a delicious barbecue, and live music which is great to listen to when you've had your share of pear cider. I happen to like this place not only for the fabulous view of the murkey Sacramento River, or the thunder of Harley's being started by, but because the owner and I share the same name. Like I say, it's the little things that make me smile.

And it's the little things that keep me smiling when I've had too many beers, pot brownies and barbecues. Or, is it the brownies that keep me smiling?

how 'bout some cheese with that whine?

2008-07-17T22:31:00.000-07:00

Because we all secretly wish we were sommeliers for a 5-star Michelin restaurant, we decided to head on over to Periscope Cellars for their "Wine Wednesdays".

It's another excuse for me to pretend I'm actually from Sonoma and that I know anything about wine tasting. Sure, I'm pretty sure you swirl the glass and look at the legs, then smell, then taste then to a thing where you smack your lips with your tongue as if your tasting. And last but not least, you mention that it's "oak-ey".

The tastings are gratis, which in this economy makes me a very happy whino. I recommend the Sangiovese because it's good and fun to say. And they had some wonderful cheeses, including some aged Monterey Jack from Vella Cheeses in Sonoma.

It's nice to change up your Happy Hour routine every once in a while. Especially to head to wineries that have $5 full glasses of wine paired with cheese and crackers.

And since Emeryville is thee hot spot of the Bay Area, this was probably the third time I've been filmed by a television crew in the past month. I'm not exactly sure which TV station it was, but hey, they asked us is they could film us. I doubt we'll be on television though because my group was having some pretty racy conversations. Not quite G material if you catch my drift.

No worries, though. We'll whine about it later. For now, it's all about the wine.

an apple a day

2008-07-13T15:33:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid my grandfather had a business partner that worked for Mattel Co., so sometimes when he came over for dinner, he would bring a new toy that wasn't on the shelves yet. I got my second Cabbage Patch Doll from him - one with the "corn silk hair" instead of the regular yarn that passed for hair. I was one of the first people to get that doll, along with a cool Play Dough Factory set.

I'm not bragging. That was in like 1987, but I thought I was the shit back then. All my other first grade classmates had to figure out cool ways to do things with their funky smelling Play Dough - and that didn't include eating it.

Ever since then, I've been playing "keeping up with the Jones'". I'm materialistically insecure. It comes with being a total outsider in a wealthy upper-middle-class suburb.

As a shop-a-holic with an eye for the latest trends, and a B.F.A. in Fashion Merchandising that I don't happen to put to any use, I like the thrill of having something new. Having some thing new and being one of the firsts to have it is a conversation starter. I get a little chill whenever someone asks me what I'm wearing -even if it's a knock-off of a Marc Jacobs sweater.

This wacked-out mentality would explain the insanity that went into getting up early on Friday morning to stand in line for the new iPhone. I had been counting down for this since June 1st. And by the look of the line, so had everyone else.

I got to the Apple store in Emeryville by 7am, thinking that if I got there an hour before they opened their doors that I would have some sort of chance. NOT! The line wasn't around the block or anything drastic like that, but it was pretty damn long.

And just like I had imagined, I was surrounded by a bunch of Pixar dudes. You can't go anywhere in Emeryville without seeing Pixar guys. It's cool though, I happen to have a soft spot for animation geeks. Unlike the ones I rode in the elevator with at art school, these actually smelled like they'd taken a shower. Plus, I get the dirt from within the compound.

At 8am the line started moving and they started handing out water to compensate for the free Peet's Coffee they had already given us. It was obvious that they were trying to see who had the strongest bladder. And then a camera-crew came. As I was sending a text to one of my friends, I got a camera shoved in my face. "So, you're upgrading that phone?" I looked at the chick holding the camera. "Um, yeah." Duh. No, I just thought I'd get up two hours early to stand in line for two hours just for shits and giggles. "Who's the first person you're going to call on your new iPhone?" I shrugged, "My boss because I'm late for work." I was getting nervous and just wanted to have the camera move to one of the Pixar dudes. "What would you say to Steve Jobs?" Um . . . "good job, Jobs?" Hahahaha. LAAAAAAAAME!

Hey, in my defense I was half asleep, had to pee and was running incredibly late for work. I bounced at 9am for fear of losing my job and hence having no cash to pay for the damn phone/ipod. Had I stayed an extra hour, I might have gotten one.

But, being a glutton for punishment, I came back for seconds and then thirds. And I have yet to get one. It's ridiculous. I've turned into my worst pathetic nightmare.

I'm not the type who stands in line for anything. Now I know how the peasants of the Soviet Union felt while waiting in line for bread.

I've taken it as a sign. So, I have decided to wait out the frenzy and get my iPhone in a couple of weeks when I can afford it. Maybe I can get one next week, when I don't have to wait in line hearing people pass by shouting "Losers!" to all those standing there.

Sticks and stones.

i needed this

2008-07-01T23:16:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about this sketch, where it has been, who it is with, is it thinking of me and will it ever return . . . okay, not really. But it did take me a while to find it on You Tube. That's okay though because I really don't have much of a life. I can sympathize Scott Thompson's French-Canadian whore somehow. Although I could give a fuck about where Tony is right now.

a world without tomatoes

2008-06-17T22:03:00.000-07:00

Imagine no more fresh salsa to dip your salty lard-fried tortilla chips. It's a terrifying thought. I had a glimpse of a life with no tomatoes this week thanks to a salmonella outbreak throughout the country that sickened nearly 300 people from sea to shining sea. So, for a week there was no salsa, no bagels with tomatoes, no burgers with tomatoes, no sandwiches, no Taco Bell nachos, no . . . well, you get the picture. I was glad to learn that my favorite morning stop, Ruby's was back to being stocked with vine ripened tomatoes - the only tomatoes that were not "affected". It's good because I was about to go insane from missing the red, ripe, not sweet fruit. It was eye-opening . . . and scary. Nothing is good without tomatoes. Sandwiches are missing flavor and nachos are missing acidity. I want ALL tomatoes back. NOW!!

mamma mia! i want to believe

2008-06-11T22:40:00.000-07:00

I'm not much a movie patron these days since you end up paying $10 to sit in a dark crowded room with annoying strangers. However, I am very surprised by the blockbusters coming out this year. Indiana Jones returned after 15 years. (I haven't seen that yet.) I'm excited about the Get Smart movie with Steve Carrell. And of course I HAD to sit through two and a half hours of the cheesiest and longest big screen "Sex and the City" episode EVER! Definitely not as good as the show, and I knew it was going to be like that, but I couldn't sit by while everyone said they'd seen it.

But now there are two more movies I have to look forward to . . .

instant karma

2008-06-02T20:17:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about karma lately. You know, what goes around comes around goes around comes all the way back around? Yeah, anyway . . . I'm just trying to figure out what it's all about.

Karma is "the cosmic principle according to which each person is rewarded or punished in one incarnation according to that person's deeds in the previous incarnation."

I happen to believe in past lives and reincarnation. That's just part of my personal spiritual philosophy. Maybe I just find it comforting much like peasants had to believe that if they work hard in their lifetime they would be rewarded in heaven.

It might sound like new age mumbo jumbo, but it helps me get by and understand certain events and relationships I have encountered. I really do need therapy, but this is cheaper. And it's somewhat more productive than blaming what ever is going on in my life on someone else. I can just blame it on my past actions.

With karma, you do good and good things happen to you because you're making up for bad shit you did in a previous life, or previously in this life. But I like to think I've racked up enough karma points in this life to make up for whatever shit I did in the last one and therefore offset whatever shit gets thrown at me in this one.

The sad truth is that I don't do enough good deeds. I recycle, vote, try not to use up too much water and make sure to turn off the lights every time I leave a room. But I'm not saving the world or anything.

Regardless, I am a firm believer in the notion that every bit counts - even if that means donating old clothes to The Goodwill or holding off on printing emails.

I don't frequent Whole Paycheck, er, Whole Foods that often for the obvious reason. But last time I was in there I was on a "green" mission. I purchased two very nifty items to keep me green and on the go.

1.) An aluminum water bottle from Swiss company SWIGG - keeps the water cold and once you get used to the copper flavor of the water, it's pretty rewarding just knowing that I'm doing something for the environment.

2.) A canvas grocery bag that folds up into a little burlap sack. The best part is that by purchasing that bag I not only get a nifty bag to tote things in. I also did something decent. The money went toward feeding 100 children in Rwanda. Sweet.

It's a start I guess. I'll help save the world eventually, but until then I'll pack my Certified Fair Trade organic sustainable produce around in the tote.

glow-stick dungeon

2008-06-01T15:39:00.000-07:00

I'm in recovery today. I've been partying since Thursday and I think my liver is about to explode. Well, not really, but it can't be good. After work Friday night, a group of us young-ins from the office headed down to the Missouri Lounge on San Pablo Avenue in Berkeley. It's on my way home, so I figured one PBR wouldn't be a bad idea. Plus, there's nothing like bonding with coworkers over some shit-talking and cheap beer at a hipster dive bar.

We all had the $5 special: a shot of bottom-shelf whiskey with a PBR can chaser. I double-fisted the shot of whiskey with the can of beer. We all did though, so I didn't feel totally uncool. One PBR can turned into 2 and then three. I knew I had to get out of there before I got totally drunk and started flirting with one of the cute boys I work with. That's just a no-no for me. But I do work with some very attractive and charismatic people.

The party continued on Saturday. One of my coworkers had his first gig as a DJ in a Chinatown cave. Seriously. The place was dark when I arrived with another coworker and her friend. We honestly thought the creepy Chinese bartender going down the stairs was going to kill us. So, we ran back to the lounge area to listen to the soothing sounds of the '70s. The bar jukebox was playing Neil Diamond when we walked in and "Nights in White Satin" when our guest DJ found us. Dude, how often do you hear The Moody Blues at a bar in Chinatown? After my second vodka-Red Bull and the jukebox's selection of The Village People hits, we all agreed it was time to conquer the dragon that might be lurking downstairs in the dungeon. People were looking at us funny for doing the hand gestures to YMCA as if we were at some barmitzva. I forgot how uptight people in San Francisco are.

We stumbled downstairs to find our DJ buddy's pals handing out glow sticks. Oh, wow. I was waiting for them to start handing out hits of ex. That never happened, but there was dancing. Oh, yes, there was lots of dancing which apparently justified our mass consumption of liquor. I almost felt 21 for a split second, except that I was with somewhat more mature people than I had known when I was that age. It's great when people actually take turns buying rounds of drinks and shots of whiskey.

Downstairs was where the action was though. By 10 pm, the bottom dance floor was full of my coworker's friends and frat brothers. A room full of cute young frat boys, oh my. I haven't danced that much since drum and bass nights at Cat Club back in 2001. I was definitely one of the oldest people there. (Except the cougar that found a cub to latch on to.) But I don't mind, I act and look like I could still be 25. I didn't think I could still dance. And to be honest, I'm paying for it now. I'm in so much pain. But he spun some really awesome shit, so it made it less painful.

The bar kicked us out right after last call when the music stopped abruptly. A group of us headed back to my coworker's place a few blocks up on Stockton Street to the tallest building in Chinatown. There was cake, more drinks, the biggest bong I have ever seen and the best view of The City I have ever seen. I took a picture with my camera phone but it didn't do justice. We're talking 15th floor with a direct view of the Pyramid and Bay Bridge looking out to Treasure Island and Berkeley. I could have stayed on the balcony forever with the Coit Tower to the left and Twin Peaks to the right.

Good thing it wasn't a clear night otherwise I would have never gotten off the balcony, which would have worked just perfect for me because after pretending to take a bong hit (I was the designated driver), the apartment became like an episode of "The Real World". My companions were slightly baked, so they thought it was just the weed that was making them paranoid and freaked out about drama. I reassured them that I was completely sober and was still weirded out.

That was pretty much our cue to leave anyways since it was 4 a.m. and I live out in the boonies. I feel like after two years of living out here in the East Bay, I'm finally starting to find some cool people to hang out with. Not that I would do this every week, but it's good to know I still can.

ooh, mercy me!

2008-05-31T14:05:00.000-07:00

Pretty much everyone at work has a hobby outside of the office. I have my blog and fashion. (That's still a hobby, right?) One of my coworkers is a DJ who is actually spinning tonight, another one is a Lacrosse coach, and pretty much everyone at work has a love for art. However, only three of us have degrees from an art school, including me.

We all share one common bond though. We all enjoy alcohol, erotic art and sex toys. Most importantly, we all get along (even with the office politics and drama). So, to show our support for our good friend and Marketing Director, Terry Furry. Being that we're green and cheap, a group of us carpooled across the Bay Bridge into The City to up-scale sex shop Good Vibrations on Polk Street.

Not having been to Polk Street since that one time one of my girlfriends and I headed to The Lumiere to see a Midnight Mass showing of the John Waters film "Desperate Living", I was totally stoked. (I think there might also have been a time we stumbled out of Edinburgh Castle and tried to buy the ex-BFF a tranny hooker, too, but I'm not completely sure. Maybe I'm just projecting.)

I really love Terry's work. I went to one of his other shows almost a year ago at Esteban Sabar Gallery in Oakland. He works with a lot of blue and has these amazing renderings of life-like images. (See above for my favorite piece.) But it was a total added bonus that it happened to be at a sex shop. Sorry, I mean, erotic boutique. As soon as we had looked at all the pieces, had some wine, cheese and delicious carrot cake, it was on to the actual shop.

I work with a bunch of perverts. That being said, they all seemed perfectly at home touching life-like silicon penises with realistic testicles. One of my coworkers was thinking of purchasing it as a stress ball she could squeeze while making cold calls. We are a very liberal work-place, but I somehow doubt that our boss would approve. As we were giggling and squishing the silicon member, one of the sexologists came over to tell us that that dildo is not incredibly popular. Who cares? It's fun to play with. "Well, it's not very sanitary and can host many forms of bacteria and dust." Way to kill the romance. On that note . . . I decided to wander off to the vibrator section. I must have seemed like a kid in a toy store turning on each vibrator to see exactly how much power it has.

One of my coworkers got a little one with no power at all. My phone has more vibration than that. So, it's kind of weird to be in a room full of coworkers and your boss testing a bunch of vibrators. I blame it on the wine.

After the show we headed across the street to the Casablanca Cafe for some $10 pitchers of Stella Artois, Mediterranean food and hookah! They took real good care of our large group. (Those of us that didn't escape to crash the SF Weekly Best of Party at Ruby Sky.) And the food was pretty decent. We were Terry, but for me it was a new chapter in my job. It's still a little ambiguous, but I'm trying to figure out what my job is going to be now that the person I assisted has left the company.

I've gone through some changes in my life these past few weeks. People that were a main part of my life - both personally and professionally - are no longer there. It's messed with my routine and now I'm trying to just go with the flow. I'm trying to find a perfect balance to my life. And just like a vibrator you can go full speed or a slow pulse, but you'll find that somewhere in the middle is the most pleasurable.

I hella heart new artist Duffy. I just got her CD at Starbucks last week and feel like her songs were written just for me right now. Or, like I could have written them myself. I almost want to give it to a particular someone just to let him know how I feel.

whatta mighty good man

2008-05-23T22:22:00.000-07:00

WANTED:
A Fine Looking Man
Must Like Dogs
Likes to Cook and Serve Dessert
Will Watch "Sex and the City" With You
Always Pays for Dinner
Doesn't Act Like a Complete Moron
Never Picks Nose in Public
Remembers to Put the Toilet Seat Back Down
Doesn't Have to Listen to the Sound of his Voice 24/7
Doesn't Need to Have the Last Word in EVERYTHING

Two of my buddies at work have decided that I need a man in my life. It's become their new mission, to try to hook me up with someone . . . anyone. They're taking it as a mission of necessary intervention.

Lucky for me there are more options than hanging out at Kitty's Bar waiting for a biotech geek to buy me a PBR. Contrary to popular belief I am totally working it . . . um . . . well, maybe just 'Net-working it?

I love these wonderful times we live in. I can be proactive in finding a perspective mate on a Friday night without even leaving my couch. And get this . . . it's eHarmony's Free Connection Weekend! Thank God for holidays. Match.com got my information from Chemistry.com, which totally sucks because they both want money from me. Chemistry.com keeps sending me these vague emails with the subject line: "Someone in Sonoma wants to hear from you." But I can't figure out who it is because I refuse to pay my internet pimp. Dude, even the escorts that place ads in our paper have their pimps pay for them. Apparently, Match.com doesn't think I'm putting myself out there enough, according to an email they sent me: "Love is Out There, Your Information Isn't."

Sure. That's what Myspace and Facebook are for. Facebook actually has it's own dating site which has mutated and grown it's own domain. Oh, Zoosk, what would we do without you? They've recently informed me via Gmail that my "date card is missing a photo!" Oh, no. You mean that to hook up with someone you have to show them what you look like? What a fucking concept.

Zoosk was cool for a hot second. You get these little notifications on Facebook alerting you to a new "flirt" on your account. I'm over it. I've only had one decent conversation with someone who works in Emeryville because it was slightly more original than the standard "wink wink" or some cheesy pick-up line.

My new favorite site is the EBX personals. You can actually choose exactly what you're looking for: long-lasting relationship or a sinful one-night stand. Hmmm.

Dilemmas. Dilemmas. Makes me wonder: what would Carrie Bradshaw advice be?

cuz we are livin' in a material world

2008-05-20T20:29:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

there's no such thing as global warming when you're having a green day

2008-05-16T23:11:00.000-07:00

It was incredibly hot Thursday - as in 100 degree temperatures. Apparently there was a heat advisory in Livermore, which is pretty much as far east as you can go in Alameda County. (I don't even want to imagine what it was like in Pittsburg/Bay Point -officially considered the end of the East Bay.) It was hella hot in Emeryville and that's as far west as you can get. Plus, it was a "Spare the Air" day, which was perfect for those folks biking to work.

We're all very green and progressively environmental at my office, so it was only fitting that we throw a beer keg party at Rudy's Can't Fail Cafe for those people who actually rolled into their offices on "Bike to Work Day." Organic beer served in compostable cups makes me incredibly proud of the progressiveness of East Bay communities. Al Gore would weep tears of joy.

But as stoked as my coworkers were about working an outdoor event in that heat, they were even more excited for the make-shift after party. Or, the real party as some of us saw it.

I can't lie. I definitely have some awesome perks that come with my job. I handle the copy for club ads that run in our paper. So, I have contact with a few club promoters. It's mostly via email and I've never met them face-to-face, but they count on me to make sure the listings on their ads are correct. We were a bit passed deadline when the promoter from the Stork Club in Oakland called me in total excitement. "You have to change the May 15th listing. I just confirmed Foxboro Hot Tubs for that night!"

Ok, so, for those of you who have spent the last few months living in a cave somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Foxboro Hot Tubs is a Green Day side project. The only one with all three of the original members playing in it. (Plus two other guys who aren't Billie Joe, Mike or Tre.)

There was this whole hoopla when the singles started surfacing on the internet. Radio personalities were suggesting that the singer sounded a lot like Billie Joe and that it had to be them because Foxboro Hot Tubs is some kind of reference to something in Rodeo. (Not to be confused with Hottubs, a new wave chick band from Oakland, or the Hot Tubs in Berkeley fondly referred to as the "Soak and Poke" by locals.) Ahh, Rodeo . . . the jewel of Contra Costa County and home to the alleged Zodiac killer. The only time I actually go to Rodeo is when I stop for a latte at the drive-thru Starbucks on the way to Sonoma.

But for those in the know and I'm excluding the DJs at Live105 from this, apparently they've been doing this for a while. Green Day started as a small club punk group playing at places like the Stork Club, 924 Gilman and Ashkenaz. They were already huge the first time I saw them play at The Fillmore in The City. I think they were actually on their third major label CD at that point, but they still played like they were in a small club interacting with the audience, throwing beer, getting buck naked . . . etc. But Billie Joe still signed my girlfriends' book and gave us all Green Day stickers. What more could a 16 year old want? Plus, I think he might have winked at us. I heart rock stars that don't act like rock stars. So, I was very disappointed when i went to see them on the American Idiot tour at AT&T Park. It was decent concert, but it made me feel old because there were a bunch of teeny boppers with their parents waving their phones around as if they were lighters. It was incredibly depressing even though they put on an awesome show.

I think this is their way of playing the smaller venues without getting mobbed. And . . . I've also heard from those in the know that it's their great marketing ploy to test out prospective hits with a new audience. Oh, please, as if they need to worry about getting another hit.

The show itself was awesome. I got there early enough to not find a huge line to wait in. (Again, another reason not to trust the dumbasses at Live105). I only paid $5 - unlike the $20 they had advertised and broadcasted. It was probably the awesome East Bay Express wristband I was still wearing from the bike'n beer party earlier. I don't like to flash the fact that I work for the raddest (and only) independent alternative weekly in the EB, but I will, if necessary. I think I even scored some brownie points by inter-departmental guest list adding. It's good to make everyone happy.

The club was fucking packed. Luckily we all found the outside area to chill at for three hours. As chilled as one could get. If it was 80 degrees outside, it was at least 280 degrees inside. One of the "special guests" as I had put it on the ad sang some punk song about . . . you guessed it . . . Rodeo! After this they excused themselves to make room for "the next band". At this point the brave few of us that had stuck together practiced the fine art of throwing elbows -something I haven't had the pleasure of doing in a while. We nudged our way into a little nook between MacSweaty and MacSmelly. Imagine being fully clothed in a sauna full of belligerent hipsters, punksters, skinheads and motorcycle gang members blocking you on either side, sweat dripping from every pore of your body, holding on for dear life to the only source of hydration at your disposal. PBRs are exactly like H2O -but not as good when hot. I loathe hot beer and got even more pissed because my 40 oz. cans kept turning into hot water.

And then . . . finally . . . at 11 pm they came on stage and a tidal wave of terror and fear swept over me. Literally. Before I knew it I was being cast into the mosh pit. I'm not a mosher. The last time I was in a mosh pit was at the Vans Warped Tour during the Dead Kennedy's set. I remember almost getting an asthma attack but somehow being helped up by a cute skater boy and finding a $20 bill on the floor. I started flailing around drowning in the chaos until a hand grabbed me and pulled me back to safety. I love having tall coworkers - they're like body guards. My other two vertically challenged coworkers in front of me were not so lucky. People started pushing me around, so I pushed them back. It was a pretty tame pit for the most part. Five songs into the set sweat was dripping off my clothes and the coworker who saved me suggested we seek refuge in fresh air, sarcastically adding: "Congratulations! You now have hepatitis!" Awesome.

I didn't get to see the encore. I didn't even get to see their faces. But the short coworkers who got swept away made it to the front to see and confirm that it was indeed the three dudes from Green Day. Suck on that Live105! All in all a pretty fucking awesome experience. Not only did I prove that I can still stay up late partying on a "school night", I can also brave the mosh pit. Best of all, I got to see the very first show in the very first Foxboro Hot Tubs tour ever. Friday they played Toots Tavern in Crockett before heading to Little Rock, Arkansas. Now, here's my geography lesson for the day: any idea where Crockett is? Dude, it's right next to Rodeo!

note to self: changing your hair color will not change your life

2008-05-14T19:23:00.000-07:00

It started out raven black and has now turned into indigo. I feel like I should be wearing a bunch of tattoos and piercings. And I've been wearing a lot of black, which of course is slimming, but not necessarily great for 90 degree humid heat.

A lot of things can change in a week. Some for the bad. And some for the bad. And then there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I always like to say that things have to get incredibly bad before they can be right again.

The question is: exactly how much ugliness can a person take?

I've had a really strange week, which would explain the bad hair color decision. I picked up the wrong box out of duress. But, like anyone who knows how to make things in her life work out to her benefit, I've decided to "own" the blue hair.

Actually, its a new approach to life, in general. So, instead of shrugging away when the girl behind the counter at the gym asked if my hair was really blue, I should have boldly said. "Yes, it is!" It would have made a difference, I guess because she was all: "that's rad!"

I've decided to speak my mind these days. It's changed my life for the time being. It's made my life better at work and my personal life a lot more chaotic. I guess you can tell who your real friends are by how well they handle your opinions and criticism . . . and emotional breakdowns.

And for the time being . . . I'm rocking the hair . . . blue and all.

amster . . . damn!

2008-05-10T14:56:00.000-07:00

Willie Nelson and Snoop Dogg in Amsterdam . . . cosi petite moment of the millenium!

restoring order and law

2008-05-08T23:32:00.000-07:00

Ever since I got back from NYC I've sunk into some kind of depression (and utter chaos) that can only be cured by watching a lot of Law & Order. Lucky for me that's pretty much all they give on TV. I'm not as big a fan of the original Law & Order. But I will watch hours and hours of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit as well as Law & Order: Criminal Intent, especially now that they brought back Chris Noth as Det. Mike Logan. Um . . . yeah, he was on the original Law & Order back in like 1990 for like five years before being Mr. Big on Sex and the City.

So, needless to say, the cosi petite moment of my day was when my friend who lives on the Upper West Side called me at work in excitement. "I just saw Munch!" As in Richard Belzer from Law & Order: SVU. "Guess where I saw him?" By now, I've realized there is only one place where you can find Law & Order actors: Nice Matin on West 79th and Amsterdam. That's where we saw Paul Sorvino. (And she's seen Marishka Hagarty there too.) Nice Matin is like the Upper West Side hang-out. Like an upscale diner with quirky staff and famous patrons - sorta like Rudy's but without the punk edge.

I've had one question on my mind for almost 20 years: why do they call it Law & Order? Shouldn't it be Order and Law? I mean the detectives investigate the crimes in the first half of the show and then the district attorneys prosecute the offenders at the end. It's been bugging me for a while. Or is it that the cops carry out the law by arresting perps and then the prosecutors enforce order? It's completely trivial a question, but it still leaves me curious.

i love ny, but i'm not in love with it.

2008-04-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

The most touristy thing I've managed to do during my time in New York City so far is a ferry ride to Staten Island. There isn't much to do in Staten Island that I noticed. So, I basically got on the ferry, took some pictures of the Statue of Liberty, fought my way around tourists and their progeny, got off the ferry and was herded back like cattle onto another ferry.

No, I didn't hear Carly Simon's them from the Working Girl soundtrack in my head. I just heard a bunch of screaming brats and German tourists trying to get the best shot.

I thought that I would just make my way up to Times Square and see what Broadway was offering in the cheap ticket arena. I didn't make it that far. Instead, I ended up getting lost around the Financial District.

But I was on a mission.

My trusty guidebook - the one who's fold-up subway map got me incredibly lost underground on my way to the Upper West Side from JFK - told me that I was quite near John Street where I would find Les Halles. According to my guidebook it's the restaurant where famous chef "Anthony Bardaine" got his start. I was appalled. Who the hell edited this book? This is, after all, the book that gave me a list of neighborhood walks that include stopping at Starbucks for a relaxing cup of coffee. (There must be nearly 300 on the island of Manhattan - 20 of them right around the corner to the flat I'm staying at.)

But this is truly appalling. Shocking. How can someone misspell a famous writer's name. Bourdain, for crying out loud! What next, they're going to suggest that it's fashionable to wear a hair scrunchie in public?

This would have been fine except for the fact that I was wearing four-inch espadrilles that cut into my pinkie toe. This apparently makes me an easier target for being hollered at. Yet, somehow they're a bit classier here in NYC than in Oaktown. Here they actually look at you once (not twice) and then make eye contact and smile before shouting out: "Hey, beautiful!"

I ended up somewhere around Wall Street and remembered that my father had warned me to stay away from the street. "Crazy economic times!" Nothing much was happening. So, I just took pictures and kept walking eventually coming to a subway station.

After wandering up John Street I finally found Les Halles. It was already 3:30 pm, way past the lunch crowd. But, I'm still on Pacific Standard Time, so it was lunch for me. The lunch specials are $13 and up. And I've noticed that unless you're going to Subway Sanwiches, every restaurant in Manhattan starts at that price. I think it's a small price to pay for a really good meal with tons of food. They serve enormous portions everywhere I've been to. I had the French dip. I believe even my dad would approve my trek through Wall Street for this.

I never made it to Times Square - and wouldn't mind if I didn't make it there at all this trip since I stayed there last time. I claimed my seat on the 1 train and didn't get off until West 79th Street and Broadway right in front of Zabar's. Ah, Zabar's. Nosh heaven. I ended up going to their little cafe earlier in the day for a $2 ham and cheese croissant after learning the H&H Bagels across the street didn't put schmere on their bagels. GET OUT! I had also purchased a bottle of Poland Spring water in the cash only line. Hehe. Cash only - as in "You've Got Mail".

That evening after sitting on my friends stoop enjoying my latte from World Coffee down on West 80th and Columbus, we had made plans to grab dinner at CraftBar in the Union Square area with my two girlfriends from back home. Top Chef host, Tom Colicchio has like four restaurants within blocks of each other. Craft is the haute cuisine one and Craftbar is less expensive, by NY standards, I guess. I don't especially think that paying $17 for 3 salty ravioli is affordable.

We all walked back down to Union Square. I had hung out there the day before sipping my Venti Ice Tea Lemonade from Starbucks (yes, I know, I succumbed)and enjoying the warm 80-degree weather. I thought there would be a farmer's market, but instead there was live music and a bunch of people sitting and enjoying the city.

People in New York enjoy their parks. I love that. They sit outside on warm days and nights listening to street performers play jazz or drums, or whatever it is they're doing.

And then it started to rain. So, like sewer rats we scurried down to the subway, which is a good thing because when it rains the city smells like garbage and piss. We got on a crowded train that kept stalling. Switched lines a couple more times. By 1:30 a.m. I'd had it. My feet hurt, I had the stench of piss in my nostrils, I was wet and sweaty at the same time. And some homeless jerk called my friend a "white bitch". I'm pretty sure I shouted: I HATE NEW YORK! at this point and said fuck it, we're grabbing a cab.

Grabbing a cab in NY, I've noticed, is hit or miss. You can get a really nice and decent cabbie, or a bastard that tries to overcharge you. I have to say that I didn't exactly know the proper way to hail a cab until a couple of Boricuans in East Harlem taught me how.

I'm glad I had a chance to have some NY style pizza at Big Nick's Pizza and Burgers on Broadway on the Upper West Side after helping one of my friends move from Spanish Harlem to West 80th. Then we all headed up to West 82nd for some Yolato! Gelato.

Sunday was what I like to think is a typical NY day. Although, I'm pretty sure it's not. Nevertheless, we woke up at noon and headed to brunch at Nice Matin two blocks down on Amsterdam and West 79th. There's nothing like having brunch at 3pm and waiting out the morning rush. The Salmon Benedict was delicious. I remember asking my friend if this was the sort of place one might see celebrities. And much to my surprise as we were sipping the rest of our coffee, I noticed an older gentleman sitting by himself in the corner. Sorvino? Paul Sorvino? The guy that was on Law and Order and Goodfellas. Mira's dad.

Ok, so, I'm not sure if it was him, but who cares. As far as my friends and I know it was Paul Sorvino. I had my NY celebrity moment. I'm still hoping to see more since the Tribeca Film Festival is happening right now. I'd be happy just seeing DeNiro. That would rock.

I think we're heading out to Fairway Market soon, so I'll continue this later.

Until then . . . I have left my heart in San Francisco but I still Hella Heart Oakland.

True Centralist

2008-03-23T23:03:00.000-07:00

I found myself traveling east today on Highway 4. No end in sight. I can't remember the last time I was in Stockton. Probably 20 years ago for Thanksgiving? Yet, here I was driving my own ass through the California Central Valley to enjoy a feast of roasted lamb and Delta grown asparagus in the middle of a walnut orchard.

I consider myself a city girl . . . or, suburban, at least. For me, going to "the country" is going to visit my immediate family in Sonoma. That country has a swimming pool, though, and feels more like a resort than "the country". That's probably because technically, Sonoma is within the Greater Bay Area region. Stockton, on the other hand is smack-dab in the heartland of California - full of farmers that actually grow their food to sell at markets.

It was a beautiful Easter Sunday and a great excuse to head out to what seemed like a million miles of one-lane roads with draw bridges. I don't think I've ever made it out to the Delta. Yet, here I was passing through miles of levees and inland freshwater estuaries. And . . . miles of blooming cherry trees everywhere.

Considering how far it always seemed to me as a kid, I've realized that now I really don't live that far away from the agricultural center of California.

Then again, that's the beauty of my state . . . pretty much anywhere you go something's growing. Artichokes on the southern coast by Salinas, strawberries in Watsonville, pumpkins and squash in Half Moon Bay, pears in Lake County . . . and not to mention cherries, almonds, walnuts, oranges, peaches, nectarines, alfalfa, tomatoes . . . and all the different grapes varietals spread from south to north for each of the "wine countries" throughout the state.

I actually learned something new today. We had some delicious asparagus at dinner. They were so good I barely needed any mayo with them. Organic and fresh, of course. (That's to be expected in farm country.) Apparently, because they are grown in the Delta where the land is moist they tend to take on a sweeter taste compared with the asparagus grown on the coast by Salinas where the earth is drier.

I remember heading up to the Capay Valley (west of Winters) with the BFF on a day trip and stopping at local farm stands. The aroma that came from those tomatoes was incredible. Sweet and earthy. You just can't get that at the super-market. I usually put olive oil, salt and oregano on my tomatoes. But those I ate plain because they had so much flavor.

I have to admit that being raised in a city environment I'm more prone to eating processed foods. Sad but true. Thanks to my office receiving fresh, local, organic fruits every week I've gotten more into the habit of eating produce. But I think this summer, I'm going to make it a habit of doing my grocery shopping at a local, organic, artisinal farmer's market full of fresh produce, baked goods, dairy products and meat.

It will definitely be healthier, reduce the amount of carbon footprints, support local farmers and might even prove to be cheaper. I think if you buy less (and just what you need) it proves to be a win-win situation for everyone. Plus, now I also incredibly inspired because of the delicious veggie quiches my aunt made from a cookbook she gave me for Christmas. It's time to try it out. And . . . make good on all those carbon footprints I left behind on I-5 and the bugs that met their demise on my windshield. Maybe I'll even bake a pie like the one I brought for dessert today.

Pandora's Box

2008-03-18T16:11:00.000-07:00

The office is so damn quiet today that it seems like i'm in the middle of silent reading study hall. everyone's here but it's just quiet. All i hear is the occasional tickle of the keyboard and the hum of the air conditioning system.

Hmmmmmmm.

Luckily, there is a cure for the ear-numbing silence that afflicts most offices. for those of us not blessed with iTunes on our PCs, there's Pandora. Sure, you can always listen to your favorite radio station online, but with the buffering and static it's kind of an annoying inconvenience.

Pandora is a cool website that creates a playlist based on an artist, song, or genre. I am currently listening to the Lily Allen playlist which features Gorillaz, Cake, Frou Frou, Lush, Gwen Stefani, Peter Bjorn and John . . . and of course, Lily Allen. And ewww . . . Regina Spektor . . . I've was just able to skip ahead to another song. I've been switching between this playlist, the Morcheeba one and Ivy, of course. It's chill music for a hectic lifestyle. I call it more chick music to bug the guys in the next cubicle.

And being all about East Bay businesses and ventures I don't feel a bit bad about listening to this cool new venture, which I've been using for over a year. Wonder if it's gone IPO yet.

But yes, I do feel a pang of guilt for blogging at work, when I should be updating Excel spreadsheets, or doing something a little more productive. Hey! Everyone else is on Craigslist or Myspace right now. So, I don't feel so bad. I'm going to enjoy my tunes for another hour, sip my Jamba Juice - HQ in EB, as well.

gettin' all hyphy up in herrr

2008-03-13T23:50:00.000-07:00

At least these folks are keeping it real in da Yay Area!

wooo wooooo!

can't put the pussy on a pedastool

2008-03-13T21:27:00.000-07:00

Work has been driving me nuts lately. Deadlines. Figures. More deadlines. And egos.

Luckily, I'm not alone.

And lucky for us, there's Kitty's Bar in Emeryville. It's down the street from my office, on the way home and offers $2 on-tap PBRs (Pabst Blue Ribbon). I've recently found out that Pabst Blue Ribbon is one of the oldest breweries in th U.S. (160 years and going strong) I just think it's awesomely good cheap beer.

The best part is that it's not brewed by Anheuser-Busch. (My headache today was caused by that company and their media company. Fucking piss-water beer.)

I can't say that I actually drank PBR before I moved out to the East Bay. I was a spoiled brat who drank $4 Bass Ale (Anheuser-Busch). But that's all we drink now a days when we go out. It's cheaper than the friggin' $10 mojitos at Kitty's.

Yet, that seems to be the house drink. Well, at least for all the non-fashionable geezers getting pages on their beepers from 1999. I love mojitos as much as the next person, but seriously, they're not cool. (Unless you order them with raspberries.)

But it's a hidden cool old warehouse with a heated patio and cool beats. And even thought I'm sure they were playing Hall and Oates for the over-40 crowd that was drinking mojitos as if the lime juice was poured from the fountain of youth.

And for being called Kitty's, it's patrons like to bring their mini-dogs and show them off in their little sweaters and accessories. It's somewhat pathetic and sad at the same time, which always reminds me of my mantra: "Hope I die before I get old."

i hella heart oakland

2008-03-08T00:13:00.000-08:00

I have a love-hate relationship with Oaktown. Some days I want to flip off every driver that cuts me off, or every crazy homeless person that panhandles, or every guy that visually violates me on the streets.

But today I saw the sign. Literally. Walking with my coworkers from our B.F.E. parking spot that was practically in Orinda to Becky's Chinese Restaurant in Rockridge, I noticed a sign that read: "Hate Free Zone". I must have read it aloud because one of my coworkers replied: "Yeah, don't be a hater."

That got me thinking. Oaktown ain't that bad. Sure, like any large developing city it has it's flaws. But today I saw the real Oakland. The Oakland I've learned to hella heart.

Lunch today at Becky's - the classiest Chinese restaurant I've ever been to with great lunch specials that include a hot and sour soup to die for. Rockridge is definitely my favorite neighborhood of the city with its super cute boutiques and delicious restaurants. Another one I discovered this week was Khana Peena Indian Cuisine down by Broadway. All you can eat organic buffet that is out of this world and a sleek patio with calming fountains.

But . . . there are definitely other parts of Oakland that are worth exploring. Today after picking up the BFF at the West Oakland BART station we headed to champa garden my all-time favorite Vietnamese-Thai restaurant. Ok . . . I got lost trying to find it, proving once again to the BFF that my sense of direction operates on its own compass.

But it's not my fault it's hard to find. The restaurant is on 8th Avenue and the middle of nowhere four blocks from International Boulevard. It's also in the middle of a residential area. Gotta love the East Bay where convenience stores and gas stations are found in the middle of a residential zone. But it was all worth it. I'd been craving their signature rice ball salad - chilled fried rice mixed with peanuts and meat rolled in a fresh romaine lettuce leaf stuffed with vermecelli, cilantro, and mint leaves topped with some peanut sauce drizzled on top. It's part of the Champa Sampler or as BFF calls it, "The boat" because it comes in a boat shaped plate.

After dinner I had made plans to go to the Stork Club on Telegraph with the buddy who lives in Fruitvale, which was super close to Champa Garden. I do know my way around Oakland. I managed to get us from Fruitvale to Telegraph Avenue without even getting on the freeway.

It just so happens that today was the first Friday of the month. In downtown Oakland that means the Oakland Art Murmur is the place to be. Or at least that's what I had heard. I had no idea how big a deal it really is. That area of Oakland has a handful of art galleries within a three block radius. It's like a huge block party full of artsy Bohemian types. It seemed oddly out of place in Oakland.

At the end of the block in front of the Rock, Paper, Scissors Collective they had this strange contraption that two chicks were spinning around in. They were keeping momentum of the spinning machine by peddling bike peddles. It was mesmerizing - and nauseating at the same time.

But we weren't there for the art galleries or exhibits (although we've decided to definitely check those out next month). Afterall, we were there to see some titties.

Yes, that sounds bad . . . but what else is there to see at a burlesque show. We got there early enough to swoop in on some majorly awesome seats in front of the stage. (Everyone else that came in late was stuck sitting on the floor in front of the stage). The thing I do like about Oakland is the eclectic mix of characters. We had a mohawked punkster blocking our views. Rockabilliy was definitely the wardrobe style of choice for the ladies with a bunch of chicks wearing vintage dresses, fishnets, patent leather pumps, black hair, crimson lipstick and rad tattoos everywhere.

The show itself was OK - but how much old fashioned striptease and pasties can a person take? Although I did catch a glimpse of the BFF actually enjoying himself. It's cool to see your friends actually glad at having been dragged out. I think I showed them a new side of the East Bay after almost writing it off as backwards and rude. "This is better than The City!" Yes. It is.

In the end at least our table wasn't swooped up by some random hipsters. One of my coworkers came up to us as we were leaving, so, I gladly kept the table within the company.

All in all a perfect end to a pretty good week. And I don't think it's too early to shout this out at this stage in the relationship: "I hella heart Oakland!"

happy hour

2008-03-05T20:36:00.000-08:00

Seems like everyone I know is getting into spring mode. You know, that time of year when short sleeves and skirts are back in style. That also means that the winter flab must go.

I guess there are certain ways one can do this. There's plastic surgery. But that's too expensive. One can always pick up an eating disorder. I'm too lazy for puking and sticking enemas up my ass. I could stop eating, but then I'd have nothing to write about.

So, instead I've started doing what it appears everyone in my office is doing as well. I've started eating salads, drinking lots of water and sweating bullets at the gym. One of the great perks of working for my company is a free gym membership (as well as fresh organic fruits shipped every week) as part of an employee wellness plan.

It's become the new after work social activity. No more happy hours at Kitty's. Too costly and it just packs on the calories. The new catch phrase is: "you going to the gym?"or "see you at the gym."

california dreaming

2008-03-03T20:57:00.000-08:00

Ah, land of sunshine, warm beaches, and tan celebrities.

What?

Not in my California. Where I live we have more eucalypus trees - less palm trees. Not too much smog, but hella fog. Overweight, unfashionable working class people who actually work hard and enjoy a cool brew at the local bar. They don't hang out at the gym all day -only after work if they're lucky. This is the stuff that Hollywood avoids. No one wants to talk about traffic, pollution, and the homeless people that panhandle outside the BART station.

The poli-celebs - Arnie "The Guvernator" and even tall hansom Gavin are always speaking the virtuous rhetoric of their political genius. I swear Newsom's on the
radio every morning speaking to a jockey on a different morning show. (Hey, he's got a sexy voice.) But still . . . it makes me wonder - which California are they pushing?

Personally, I adore California. (I'm definitely partial to NorCal). But I think these ads for the travel bureau are a bit on the cheesy side. I think if they're going to show La-La-Land they should keep it real and show the hookers on Sunset Blvd. (Or at least Paris, Britney, and Lindsey.)

Represent, yo!

happy sunday.

2008-03-02T21:50:00.000-08:00

I got the most unexpected text this morning from one of my old hometown friends. It was plain and simple, but totally made my day. "Happy Sunday!" I don't normally think of Sundays as being happy, per se. Probably because I always thought that at my age, Sundays would mean sleeping in, reading the paper in bed, and heading to afternoon brunch with my significant other and a group of friends. The closest thing I get to that is a weekend wake-up call from the bff as he shouts in my ear: "Get your ass up out of bed and meet me for coffee, Biotch." Sweet, isn't it? Not quite what i had imagined for myself this stage in life.

Anyways, this old friend owed me a coffee date. So, I set out to meet him in his new 'hood. He's recently moved to Fruitvale. I'd only been to that part of Oaktown once since moving out to the East Bay. It's a very lively part of town. Very colorful. And above all else - very Hispanic. I'm all about representing my latiness. (For the most part it's represented by my backside. J.Lo ain't got nothing on me.)

I finally got off the delayed train. (It's never a happy Sunday on BART). As I made my way through the Fruitvale Center - a cute little shopping center next to the BART station - I found the place I was praying we'd have coffee at. Powder - a coffee shop with a distinct specialty: Beigneits. Mmmm. The last time I'd had those were from Angeline's Cajun Kitchen in Berkeley about a year ago. But nothing beats the first ones I tried when I was thirteen from the original Cafe du Monde in New Orleans.

These were pretty. And tasty. So pretty that I had to take a picture. And thereby embarrassing my companion who managed to utter the dreadful words: "You are sooo Millbrae!" What? Hells no! He admitted he was just projecting because he misses home. "There's no class!" Something about the lack of propriety people seem to have on this side of the bay. We're just a bunch of spoiled suburban kids.

Personally, I've managed to lose most of my upper-middle-class upbringing in two years. If it weren't for working 9-5 on weekdays, I'd probably end up walking through Starbucks barefoot a la Britney Spears. (With two kids and a southern accent to boot.)

That would seem to explain why I've been attracting the tow-truck drivers and guys that work at the Pick 'n Pull.

I mentioned this to my friend who simply asked me: "what are you doing to attract these guys?" My answer: Nothing. On the contrary, I'm trying not to attract these guys. "Well, what kind of guy are you trying to attract?" Hmm. That kind of threw me off for a bit. I don't know. So, he tells me about "The Secret" this new spirituality phenom and "The Law of Attraction". He briefly described it to me as visualizing what it is that you want in life and thinking of positive ways to get it. For example, I really want to lose weight, so I have to ask myself: What can I do to impove my chances of losing weight? The answer would be: eat healthy, exercise, etc. That way I won't have every guy in Fruitvale checking out my ass.

My buddy noticed that at least five guys gave me the Oaktown once-twice-full-over. That's where a guy passes you on the street, turns around, stops for a second, looks up and down, mouths "daaaaaaaamn!", bites his lip, nods to himself and keeps walking as if he hasn't just visually violated a random woman on the street. I've only experienced this in Oakland. And lucky me - I was stuck on a BART full of drunk men coming home from a Chivas soccer game whistling.

So, here's the question: What do i need to do to stop getting visually violated on the streets? Answer: Probably stop eating beigneits on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. (or stop riding BART). Hmm. Tough call.

internet porn

2008-02-29T23:59:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-25T21:33:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-24T15:27:00.000-08:00

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)

2008-02-20T09:59:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-19T22:32:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-18T19:20:00.000-08:00

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!

2008-02-18T16:00:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-17T14:20:00.001-08:00

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!

2008-02-16T23:36:00.000-08:00

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.