Time to Move On

So long, good-bye, to you my friiiiieeend. Farewell good day, until we meet again.

Well for those of you still checking this site is now defunct. Blame it on my insane work sched. or perhaps my wedding planning but I must call it quits on this site.

For those of you DIE HARD fans (Hi mom) you can now find me here which i find more fitting for my present situation. Tee hee. Hope to see ya'll there.

xoxo,
GT

Another one bites the dust

HAPPY BIRTHDAY VICKY B!!!!

You are AWESOME and the bestest friend a girl could ask for.

Open Letter to Razor-Challenged Dudes Everywhere

Alternate title for this post: Enough already

Dear Dudes,

Okay, enough with the fucking beards guys. I am so over that look it is not even funny. Just today at my work alone I have spotted five fucking beards…FIVE!!! And for an office that only has about 2 dudes in it, that is a crazy high ratio.

Seriously guys, seriously. What is it with the beard? I mean you still have to shave, right, so it is not like it is a laziness type thing. Do you feel it makes you look more macho nacho or something? It makes you look older if I do say so myself, and that can never really be a good look I don’t think but then again look at Clooney so who am I to judge?

I have to say that I was not always a beard hater. When Xtian first began to rock his beard way back when I thought it was bold look very fitting for this high-power snootin falutin type of alpha male persona. But that was then and now somehow a memo went out to dudes everywhere that the beard was the next big thing and low and behold it has become a commoditized fixture in a society full of beard poseurs. It's like the whole Moto RAZR thing all over again except take our mobile phone and instert Joe Sixpack's face.

I mean never since the whole Fuggs craze have I been that appalled at a single one fashion accessory turned wrong, turned WAY wrong. So please guys unless you look way better with a beard than without (and for 99.9% of you guys you look better without) shave that shit off.

Off my soapbox.

xoxo,
GT

OMG Yes OMG No

OMG OMG OMG, JORGE MIGUEL is coming to the US ya'll! This cannot be true, I LOVE LOVE LOVE him! Like LOVE HIM! For my money, he is the best male singer alive on the planet - his voice is just so bloody brill it is not even funny.

My friend Tristen called me this morning to tell me that her station has been promoting the concerto (pronounced for purposes of this post concherto) for weeks now but given my disdain to listen to the actual radio I have been so clued out. Naturally after her call I dropped everything I was doing and frantically got online to peep the tix sitchu...well it turns out I will be in New York for work then....NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Its like that Alanis "Ironic" song (except the song should be called doesn't it suck since the examples she lists aren't really irony but I digress) except this is far worse than a traffic light while I am already late. This is like mayja (pronouned ala Posh Spice for purposes of this post as well).

Sigh, I will have to figure something out because this is an event NOT to be missed.

Random sidebar note:

Despite almost being 30 this post makes me sound 12 n'est pas?

Top Five Fridays: GT's Video Playlist

1. Flashing Lights, Kanye West
   
   I first saw this video on a gossip blog site and I immediately fell in love. I have to say the ending is just so brilliant, FREAKING BRILLIANT, that it bums be out that I did not think of it first.

   
   

2. Stronger, Britney Spears
   
   Okay, please tell me what female on the planet did not look at this video and not want to be Miss Brit? It is just so darn good, she looks so freaking fierce, and for a girl who never says that word, um hello.
   
   Granted things have gone a bit downhill since then, but still, she makes good music (and I don't care what anyone says her new CD is so good).

   
   

3. I Want You, Common
   
   I sawr this video last night and I have to say sooo very good. The beat is just awesome and the video, um hello, so brilliant. I mean who hasn't really taken part in a bit of toxic relationship yet not really let go?
   
   Then again, I kinda like those obsessive physco videos (hence the #1) not because I am that kinda girl but because I think we all have the potential to be completely obsessive self destructive psychos we just keep it all in check.
   
   Sidebar: So did I make fun of Nala for putting a Common song on her MySpace page? Yes, yes I did but let me explain. I thought he was like a foolio rapper like these kids with the Jacob the Jeweler blinged out grills on, but I was mistaken so I will own up to that. Go Common.

   
   

4. She Bangs, Ricky Martin
   
   There is not a single hotter video than this one, I am sorry there just isn't. The one scene with all kinds of boys and girls grabbing on Ricky Martin makes me sizzle.

   
   

5. Before he Cheats, Carrie Underwood
   
   Please see #1 and 3...enough said right?
   

Three Truths and a Lie

1. I once flew to the alleged Area 51 in a private plane with the curtains drawn. Once there I proceeded to touch (and take a picture of me touching) a way awesome plane that we were specifically instructed not to come near, touch or take pictures of and then flew home a few hours later again with the curtains drawn.
   
   
2. At a strip club in Vegas, I rang up close to a $400 lap dancing bill from an heavily make-uped yet pretty stripper that my fiancé promptly paid off for me once he returned from getting me a cocktail. Oops.
   
   
3. When I was in 19, I auditioned to be a San Jose Saber Kitten. I made it to the last round but was told that while my dancing abilities were awesome my boobs were too small to make the final cut. This pretty much directly contributed to my obsession with getting implants.
   
   
4. My friends and I were almost car jacked by a bunch of holligans one night in San Francisco after being out on the town. One of the holligans tried to smashed my car window with a bat while the other attempted to open the side door to get in, but thanks to Nala’s savvy driving (and the fact that she was the only one sober) we were able to get out of there with ourselves and my car unscathed.

This Is How We Do It – Valley Edition*

Last Friday night I felt a lot better than I had all week and as such fully convinced myself that I was on the mend. With that in mind, I decided it would be a great idea to spend the weekend at my sister’s house in the valley where I could laugh and chat with my bro (La Bamba) and sis (Nala) and then hang out with my outrageously adorable nephews Elias and Tobias.

So Saturday morning my mom and I headed out just in time to make it to Elias’ first baseball game of the season (yes in true renaissance form we are a family of academia, art and sport). I am not sure who really won but I guess everyone did since no one was keeping score…sweet GO RANGERS!

Well given that I get extremely cold at any sign of wind and was still on the mend, for the game I decided that it was perfectly okay to be decked out in a beanie, scarf, gloves to complete my usual Olsen Twins look. Hello totally appropriate right? Well this random dude came to talk to La Bamba's mom, whom I was sitting next too, and then he randomly turns to me and says “Hey, you look like that dog.” UM, WTF?!?!

Perhaps I should preface this by saying that my gloves and matching beanie are light and dark green stripes with a matching solid green scarf (cute, right. And I don’t mean that as a question, I mean that as a California statement whereas we end all of our statements with the word right, right) and said dog he was referencing is Blues Clues who I guess wears a light and dark blue stripe scarf and maybe a similar stripped hat hat but I can’t back that up. BUT come the fuck on, who says that to a girl? Esp. one that a) you don’t know and b) is WAYYYY hotter than you. Of course, I then proceed to rag on him for the duration of the scoreless game to which he keeps apologizing and telling me I am totally cute but seriously dude…in no mood for your antics. Whatever.

After the game, and with a slightly less self-absorbed ego, the fam and I head out to a restaurant where you can throw peanuts on the floor. Actually my real purpose for heading out to Trace to begin with (aside from the game) is this place; I have been demanding to go there since I found out that you could do this sort of thing. I am an incredible and rather ridiculous rule follower so the fact that it was in the rules to litter it totally brilliant. Well it totally delivered and even scored extra bonus points for blaring country music (which I rather happen to enjoy but rarely get to listen to because no one else I know likes it) while having their waiters line-dance to popular tunes to entertain the diners…dance monkey dance.

Post lunch, we all headed back to my Nala’s house to hang out and plan our next strategic move of my big night out in the valley. YAY. After some discussing - and some serious reservations from my mom and Xtian about my well being and going out in the cold - La Bamba, Nala and I decide to hit up the new local pub to check out the action for the night. This my friends did not disappoint.

Upon entering, we saddled up to the bar to order pints of Guinness (yes I was drinking beer on antibiotics) and found ourselves seated next to the two biggest cougars with the biggest fake tatas and botox that side of the Altamont. Throughout the night they proceeded to hit on anything and everything that walked (mostly of the younger male variety) whilst ordering a barrage of drinks worthy of a 17-year-old. I am talking about Kamakazi shots, Sex on the Beaches, Midori Sours, Purple Hooters…I mean throw in some Long Island Ice Teas and we are talking about a typical Tuesday night during Gravy Train’s senior year in high school. We, and I am sure the rest of the bar, proceed to gawk, judge and laugh at these ladies throughout the night all the while discussing, at perhaps an inappropriate audible level, the pros and cons of being a cougar. Good times.

After a few rounds we call it a night and head back home where I promptly try to crash on the couch but instead con La Bamba and Nala into a late night discussion about God knows what (perhaps of me dying in an earthquake that night) until I doze off at an ungodly hour. It was a great day and a total top night for me and for a lady whom mostly stays in on weekends watching countless hours of bad tv it was about time I was out and social.

The next morning I woke up feeling like total crap and of course now continue to be sick for the second week in a row. Brilliant. I am such a partying rockstar n’est pas?

*And by Valley I mean the real valley as in central valley not Silicon Valley which is totally different I think.

Apparently, I'm Perfect

Alternate title to this post: Like Duh or There Are Signs Everywhere

So while I was posting my previous rant on being emo the horoscope came on Univision (I credit my Spanish being so good since I watch countless hours of TV in Spanish and usually watch movies in the Spanish track if available).

According to Hispanic fortune teller Walter Mercado Leos are "perfectly created creatures of God." Amen, Walter, amen. I feel so much better already. I am perfect (and so not self-absorbed).

Feeling a Little Emo - I Must Still Be Young

Alternate title for this post: F U Robert Frost


If two roads diverged in a yellow wood and you took the one less traveled by, would it really make all the difference? Or perhaps, would you stroll on this desolate road feeling like a complete and total ass? My money is on the latter.

Today was one of those days that you know you should have stayed in bed but got up anyway determined to fight the good fight of life and ended up losing by 11:00am. I have been sick for over a week and although I was still feeling sick this AM I decided that it was time for me to go to work and actually work for a living instead of sleeping countless hours on my couch while taking antibiotics.

Well, I went to work only to be really really really and tremendously disappointed, and coupled with the sicknesses, I seriously considered that it may be time to hang up the towel and find a new venture that is more to my liking. Nothing is worse to me than being disappointed, I would much rather be sad or pissed or in pain then be disappointed, because I feel as if I can never really recover from disappointment. A bit dramatic yes, but totally true.

So there I sat at 11:00am with my work bag packed, a box of tissues for my constantly running nose and headed home on the non bullet train all the while seriously considering looking for another job. I mean what would I do? Would I stay in the profession I honestly love but am underappreciated at? I mean don’t I have responsibilities to myself, my loved ones and my clients so is this even a viable thought? Maybe I could just quit and do nothing, just workout and cook delish yet healthy well-balanced meals for my parents and Xtian. Before I knew it I dosed off and started to hallucinate myself running down different paths yet with nowhere to go.

So in my dream I sat there at the quasi critical fork in the road (or as critical as it can seem when one is in her 20s) staring at each road with not in as much as an inclination of where to go and with enough apathy to really not give a damn. I mean really, what the hell is the point? How often can we throw our hands up in the air and say fuck it and meander our way through life without a care in the world? Once maybe twice at most?

Well you know what? I have already been there and done that. While I remember that period in my life with quite fondness, and will save the details as to why I am so jaded for another post, I am so over having to explain to people that I don’t have a job because I don’t want one and I am “finding myself”. In your early 20s that is cute in a Jack Kerouac kinda way, but in your 30s you’re just the butt of a slacker joke my friend.

So when the train came to a halt at my station I woke up feeling a little foggy and like a complete and total overdramatic idiot. The thought of me going off the beaten path to become this total hard body bohemian cooking delish meals is laughable at best. Maybe for me this is the real sign that the death of my 20s fast approaches, when even typing that thought of myself as a maverick for my generation makes me laugh rather sarcastically and crave alcoholic beverages of the grape variety.

20 Things I Do Do

Again giving credit to Valley Girl and D.

1. Men in perfectly tailored suits
2. Jesus*
3. Man push-ups**
4. Channel the Olsen Twins for my fashion inspiration***
5. Procrastinate
6. Prescription drugs****
7. Smoke socially*****
8. Wear sun block
9. Gold
10. California wines
11. Tasting menus with wine pairings
12. Fur
13. Flat shoes and orthopedic inserts******
14. Stress out and worry in general
15. Pop rock worthy of 13-year-old emo girls
16. Hot dogs
17. Recycle
18. Bad reality TV
19. Walk
20. Infomericals

* Disclaimer: “Jesus freaks” who use God to judge other people, and thus make laws against them, need not apply. You listening Huckabee?!?!
** And general working out, but it sounds so cool when you just call it out by the man pushups.
*** This may be worthy of another blog post but suffice it to say that I have been known to wander around more often than not with messy hair and dressed like a homeless person yet sporting hideously expensive handbags, sunglasses and shoes. Granted, I even make designer clothes look homeless, but whatever.
**** Hey if they are prescribed they are not illegal and as such bring them on
***** This is perhaps one of my favorite pastimes and if I were not deathly afraid of prematurely aging myself I would do it more frequently. This is also why i wear loads of sunblock and avoid the sun even though I wish I could always be tan.
****** Try having as many feet issues as I do and run around all day in Le Bou Bous. Not going to happen…well not going to happen too often anyway…often enough though since I do heart my shoes.

Introducing Top Five Fridays

Top Five Things to do When You Can’t Sleep

In the movie High Fidelity, the main character goes around spouting off top five lists of everything from music to lovers. So I thought to myself, hey why not take this approach myself and create a Top Five Fridays loosely based on this movie. So without further ado here is the first Top Five based on my night last night, enjoy.

1. Watch really bad TV. VH1 and Bravo are good sources to watch countless reality reruns of shows you probably have already watched countless of times. Infomercials also provide a good source of entertainment value, particularly fitness infomercials that promise miraculous weight loss in 10 days or your money back. I mean hello, if you don’t lose 10lbs in 10 days you get your money back…brilliant!
   
2. Think about your financial situation nonstop and determine the next steps to create an awesomely awesome nest egg in the next 10 years. Plan includes keeping track of recent spending and eliminating the obvious frivolous recent shopping that includes over priced shoes and random infomercial purchases of fitness products. Extra bonus points for firing up the laptop that takes 15 minutes to boot up to create a financial plan on excel with a fancy timeline on PowerPoint.
   
3. Do pushups. Keep a tally of how many boy pushups you can do vs. girl pushups because nothing really relaxes more than getting your heart pumping by doing physical exercise…sweet. Need some extra relaxation? Try doing hundreds and roll ups for kicks.
   
4. Change the already changed sheets on your bed because you need the extra thread count, regardless of the thread-count you have, in order to sleep better Sleeping on 300 (ewe, but I guess not everyone’s skin is as sensitive as mine so no judgment)? Maybe switch to 500. Sleeping on 500? Maybe go crazy and go to a 1,000 count (yay!). Also, not all cotton is made the same so really feel free to experiment with your closet full of expensive sheets, I know I do.
   
5. Once your done with steps 1-4 crawl into your freshly made bed and turn off the lights. Then immediately start thinking about natural disasters and how you might die from them. My personal favorite are earthquakes, nothing screams sleepy time like imagining a pile of wrecked metal as you gasp for air underneath it. Note to self: certain people may not appreciate a “omg I think I might die in an earthquake tonight” phone call in the middle of the night. If you do decide to make a call make sure it is to someone who has your same sick morbid sense of humor.

Smackdown: Oranges and Apples

One of my SERIOUS guilty pleasures in life is bad reality TV. In particular Bravo TV shows - I don’t know why they are just so good. So you can only imagine how depressed I am that The Real Housewives of Orange County is over. Well lucky for me the NYC spin-off just started this week, but the jury is still out for me if I can get behind this new show.

So I decided that before I make any rash decisions I should compare oranges to apples (ha ha, see what I did there?) to see what it is that I am really not vibing on. So without further ado let the show smack-down begin.

The Cash Money

Orange: In the last three seasons, we have seen some of the ladies struggle with cash flow issues stemming from cheapskate hubbies who left them high and dry or well really husbands are the only reason for loss of wealth. We also saw a few of them hold their own in a variety of biz ventures that included real estate, insurance and remarrying rich…in that order.

Apple: These ladies make their money the old fashion way, by marring it and then landing cush divorces (take note orange ladies) and remarrying richer. There is still not enough background to find out if any of these chicks actually worked at any point in time for their living but it sure as heck does not seem that way.

Winner: You can give a man a fish and he can eat for one day. You can teach a man to fish and he can eat for a lifetime. As such I will give this one to Orange because although they may not have the pedigree backgrounds that the Apples do, they do not mind rolling up there sleeves and getting down to the nitty gritty to get back on top (either on their own or through marriage).

The Parties

Orange: Two words…Hugh Hefner

Apple: Two words…The Met

Winner: Two words…Hugh Hefner. There is something about the orange lifestyle that appeals A LOT to me...lots of cocktails and outrageous train wreck behavior without the need to be uppity. You can often see the housewives of OC yelling “woo hoo” at the top of their lungs in restaurants, bars, church, et cetera; getting freak nasty on the dance floor even though at their age it is no longer appropriate; and going to Lake Havasu to go boating while continuing drinking, tanning and yelling “woo hoo” at the top of their lungs. I just pretty much described all of my friends there.

In contrast, you can see the housewives of NYC going to charity events at fancy places, hob knobbing with politicos for a cause or throwing “dinner parties” where they can each judge each other while totally high on downers (I assume). I just described all of Xtian’s colleagues’/friends’ wives there. Sadly, I think I just described my social life as well. Note to self - become funnly irresponsible again.

The Bodies

Orange: Fake boobs, orange tans, boxoty foreheads and the longest strands of blonde south of LA. Juicy is “couture” because of the “OC” where skimpy causal is the only way to dress…skimpy casual with lots of bling of course because after all there needs to be a way to differentiate themselves from the poor skimpy hoes. Standard cliché brands dominate like Gucci, LV and Rolex.

Apple: Waif and pale is totally in meanwhile the plastic, while rampant, is kept totally hush hush. Think glamorous with a touch of tacky. Versace, Missoni and other designers known for wild prints make their mark with these NYC ladies. Sexy is done tastefully with a touch of daring without being too skimpy. Additionally, these ladies will not think twice about skinning a cheetah to make the latest winter coat as long as there is a credible and well known designer attached to the label…after all it is cold in New York.

Winner: There is a reason the beach boys sang the song “I wish they all could be California girls” and for me nothing is better than being tan and bombed (ha ha). I love to be demure with a touch of an elegant sexiness understatement but when push comes to shove give me a tanning spray booth, gold lame and tight jeans any day.

The Offspring

Orange: These kids are totally pampered rejects…think rehab, failed modeling careers, dressing in monkey suits (literal monkey suits) and going to community college. Classy. If we learned anything form OC or that one MTV show, Laguna Nigel is it, is that 9 out of 10 of these reality orange kids don’t actually want to finish an accredited university…they were raised by the school of soft and fluffy-knocks and they like it that way. I blame peroxide, sun rays and pot…in that order.

Apple: Nothing but the best private schools and ivy league colleges money can buy. Kids have privé français toutors since the age of 1 and are well on their way to playing Chopin by the age of 5. These are the future investment bankers, lawyers, C-level execs and other douche/douchette types we will all eventually encounter in the Marina and that I will eventually date, let’s be honest here.

Winner: As much as I want to give this to Orange, I just know that my kids (shall I have any) will fall into the latter Apple category. Just look my nephews Elias and Tobias who are weekend parented by me. They have a plentitude of musical instruments, attend theater and dance classes and have weekly language lessons that include French, Spanish and Portuguese if there is time. Sigh, I give this to New York, blast you and your “culture” (as I sip on an expresso while watching a foreign flick on DVD).

So, it looks like all all and all the ladies of the OC have my vote. Of course, I will still watch the NYC version but it just is not as good as the first (although already a lot more catty...rawr).

20 Things I Don't Do

Ha ha, that is right people. I miraculously found my user name (I had forgotten it besides the obvious nature of it) and I can now blog again. Yay, champagne is falling from the heavens I know.

Well for lack of better content and creativity I will rip of the idea of Valley Girl and D and create my own 20 Things I Don’t Do list. I have to say this is very hard for me since there are not many things I will not do.

1. Curry
2. Fuggs Uggs
3. Men in ill-fitting suits*
4. Abba
5. Peta
6. Chevy's
7. Tequila
8. Angelina Jolie and Jessica Alba (tied)
9. Call/email people back
10. Extreme Democrats**
11. Extreme Republicans
12. Extreme anything***
13. Illegal drugs of any kind
14. Vegans
15. Raw foodists
16. Tarragon
17. Movies made before 1980
18. People who cry at the gym because they “can’t”
19. The word “can’t”****
20. Fanny packs*****

* Even a target suit will look great if it is tailored
** These, I find, are the worst offenders because under the guise of being "liberal" they try to bully you into thinking the way they do and if you don't you are "closed minded". I mean isn't that act in itself totally closed minded?
*** With the exception of extreme sports
**** In reference to one’s ability to acomplish something, not in the “dude, I can’t make it tonight” which is totes cool and actually my #3 overused expression
***** Okay maybe that’s a lie

Apparently, I’m Poor

I work from home on Fridays which means especial perks like getting to pick up the post when it arrives and day time food network programs in the background as I slave away on my pretty little laptop. So as Paula’s Home Cooking blares in the background I go an pick up the post and to my surprise I have a letter from my employer stating that “based on my earnings” I am eligible for EITC. What is EITC you ask? Well students, it is a “refundable federal tax income credit for low-income working individuals and families.” Huh?

While I am not bringing down the serious paychecks, thankfully I have a fiancé for that, I have never really considered myself “low-income” by any means. I mean, I think I make a decent living that affords me luxuries like yearly membership in the SF Opera’s Young Donors Club (this my one attempt at being classy), a multitude of designer shoes (granted half of those are purchased by non-EITC qualified Xtian), and the ability to click the higher income boxes that surveys usually include when they are trying to figure out who is visiting their sites. So what gives?

I, never being one to deny any kind of free money…especially when it come to the government, checked it out immediately to see what my US funded payload would be like. It turns out I am not as poor as my employer thinks I am. Well okay, correction, I am poor because of my own poor financial choices not because I don’t make some kind of decent money (well I don’t make money in my profession really but that is an ENTIRELY different subject).

So guys, remember if you get this letter don’t let it get you down about your dismal paychecks, you are not as poor as your job makes you feel. And while we may be poor in our bank accounts people we are rich in our closets and isn’t that what really matters in the end?

New Year's Resolutions Part 2

Last year, my New Year’s resolution was to be nice to Xtian for the whole year. Well that lasted I think an hour…maybe less…for no real reason really, maybe because I just cannot help myself. After a discussion this weekend about my blog, I decided to take a look back and read all my entries and it seems that even online I manage to be a total shit to the love of my life. Le sigh, le sigh.

Truth be told, despite the fact that he travels constantly and works even more (I work like a crazy person too so this is a bit of an unfair statement) Xtian treats me like a doll. He spoils me rotten, goes out of his way to give me everything I want even if it means he doesn’t and when I talk to any of his friends, work colleagues, et cetera they all tell me that he spends all of his time talking about how wonderful I am. So how do I act? Like a total jerk. I feel a little like one of those rotten children who kick their dotting parents in the shins as the parents proceed to tell you how adorable their child is.

So with all of this I will revisit my new year’s resolutions and modify them to state that one of the main focuses this year will be to be nice to Xtian. I am officially starting today and I think I have done pretty well so far. Because he does deserve an equally doting girlfriend...one that does not kick him in the shins as I have been known to do...oops.

Open Letter to Christian

Dear Christian,

According to many bad made-for-tv movies and wikipedia, one of the steps to recovery of any addiction is accepting you are an addict or as they put it so eloquently “admitting that one cannot control one’s addiction or compulsion.” Today I have come to recognize that I am addicted to spending money on fancy shoes and you, my good sir, are a financial bad influence in my life.

You with your fancy salary and your even fancier shoes and your suggestions as to what would look SO FANTASTIC on me has pushed me over the edge into a downward spiral of money spending that can only end up with me in the proverbial gutter of some fancy department store purchasing the last patent leather Choos that are 2 sizes to big to me just because I have to have them.

Like a drug pusher, you gave me many a free “hit” to ensure my addiction from the onset and now I spend every free moment on shopping sites trying to get my latest fix. But no, no more! I refuse to end up a fashion statistic in this cold cruel world.

So after my shoe binge today I scoured the Internet to see if I could get some help and low and behold I found some steps on my path to recovery.

6 of the 12 steps because doing the full 12 is too much effort

1. admitting that one cannot control one's addiction or compulsion;
   I think I always knew I had a problem, which is why I made a new year’s resolution to myself not to spend more than $100 on anything including shoes. 23 days into the new year I spend way over an entire paycheck on 2 pairs of shoes. Shoes, mind you, you were supportive of me getting…pusher.
   
2. recognizing a greater power that can give strength;
   God, are you there? It’s me Gravy Train. According to the numerous religious paraphernalia that adorn my house, Jesus does not wear shoes on the cross so, as such, what would Jesus do? Well, not spend copious amounts of honeys on shoes that would still make his feet hurt I’ll tell you that much.
   
3. examining past errors with the help of a sponsor (experienced member);
   I must find a sponsor but, like most addicts, I surround myself with other addicts, enablers like you if you will, which is why it is so hard to get better. I want to get better, I do, but I feel helpless in this cold cruel world.
   
4. making amends for these errors;
   Dear bank account, sorry there are not more zeros behind the numbers that are thankfully still in black. I am also sorry to anyone else who I may have hurt in my crazed shoe obsession, and by hurt I mean accidentally stepped on because the shoes never hurt anyone (is this denial)?
   
5. learning to live a new life with a new code of behavior;
   This is probably the hardest part of all of this and to be honest I don’t know how I can cope. You must learn to support me as I become frumpy girl in the payless shoes…okay, wait, no. I take that back Don’t ever support me in that endevor.
   
6. helping others that suffer from the same addictions or compulsions.
   Babe, sorry but I have to tell you, you have a problem a shoe problem. We must get help together…I wonder if they have shoe rehab?
   

So there, there you have it, my wallet on my sleeve and I ask for your help during long drawn out recovery (at least until the spring lines come in).

Cheers and love,
Gravy Train

2008 New Year’s Resolutions

I work pretty much non-stop from November until the second week of January. As such I don’t really count any of the holidays nor make New Year’s resolutions until all the madness is done.

So after countless hours on my feet, numerous expensed breakfastes, lunches and dinners (and let’s face it cocktails) and a serious lack of sleep I am ready to hang up my tradeshow badges and officially start 2008.

What better way to kick the new year off then with new year’s resolutions? The drum roll please.

In 2008 I will:

1. While at home, spend less time on computer and more time socializing with the rents.
2. Given the gift purchase of a Nike+ system, I will officially become a “runner” knees willing (see impressionable).
3. Become more positive at work because as an account lead I need to set an example for my colleagues. Speaking of work, I need to get promoted or else.
4. Lose 20 lbs and get my parents to lose 20 lbs apiece.
5. Take up yoga again because I have missed it so.
6. Become more focused in all areas of my life with a special emphasis on health and work.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

Beware of Dog Nappers

Alternate title for this post: Get Your Hands Off My Bitch, Bitch

Editors note: this is an old post I wrote but forgot to post because I had no power.

Well here is a hurricane touching down in San Jose and as such the power has gone out to my house. This means no Internets, no computer (as it is I only really have 45 mins left of juice on my laptop) and as such no work. So I took this opportunity to make a cold lunch for my mom and I since we could not cook and discuss the hurricane going on. As we are discussing I see my two dogs out in the back yard just hanging out in the rain, they had escaped through the dog door in our garage since they love the rain.

Anyway, not 5 minutes pass by when all of a sudden I hear both my dogs going ballistic in an area that sounds like the front yard of my house. So I go and the sitchu out when low and behold I see my German Sheppard, Bono, in attack position ready to pounce on God knows what. As I survey the scene, I see a green Ford Taurus with all of their doors open as well as the trunk parked at an angle in the middle of the street. Then I see this old fat lady kinda crouching down to the floor with something in her hand (in the middle of the hurricane mind you) and my little Chihua, Pizza, totally going ballistic yet kinda going towards this lady with the open doors. That is when it hit me…SHE WAS TOTALLY TRYING TO STEAL MY DOG ala a perv in a made for TV movie.

I storm out of my house, guns blazing, in my house slippers and wild and crazy hair to find out what the hell is going on by screaming a number of obscenities and calling the dogs into my house so a) Bono would not maul her…I would rather do that and b) so secure Pizza’s safely. As I am careening towards her, she stammers out that she thought the dog was a stray and wanted to find out how it belonged to as she slams her doors and screeches out of my court. WTF?

I then go survey how the dogs got out in the first place and either the wind knocked our side door open or someone pushed it open. Scary.

A Taste of Married Life

When Xtian and I were engaged we agreed that we would move up to the city and live a fabulous city life. So given that his worked moved to the city we he thought it would be the appropriate time to start to look for a great place to live where we could be young and fabulous. So off we went and found this fabulously fantastic loft in the city that we could call home once we are married and he moved in and I stayed in the fabulous San Jose because I actually like living at home and hanging out with my family.

So given that I had to work in SF all week long on behalf of a client of mine and what better way to test the waters then to stay at the loft with my amour for a week to see how things go. Well, as I predicted life is exactly as I imagined…I am alone…constantly alone. Xtian travels…all the time…and although last week I was promised a full week without travel things, as always, changed and he is gone. Granted he was here 2 nights out of the 4 but still I went to bed alone because he worked all night long as I tossed and turned alone in this big bed that was meant for two.

Going to bed alone, coming home to an empty loft, eating dinner out of a box alone…is this really what I signed up for? I mean take away the bands and add a cat and isn’t this what being single in my 30’s would be about if say I were not getting married?

It must be nice to come home to someone, to have someone around to talk to and to laugh with and eat dinner with and perhaps this is why Xtian really wants me to move in. But as this “married test week” goes, I have spent more time alone than I have ever cared for and I feel terribly lonely and needy and I don’t really like it.

I know I am probably being unfair because he is a very generous man who truly adores me beyond my wildest dreams, but seriously, isn’t there something wrong here? Am I missing something?

The Night I Fell In Love with a Musician

I am a firm believer that everyone has a type of “person” they will 9 out of 10 times fall for. A friend of mine will almost always fall for hottie pro footballers (not American football but real football) that will never compare to normal guys, another good friend of mine will almost always fall for toxic quick witted hipsters she will later despise. Well I am no exception, 9 out of 10 times I will fall for slightly (or rather overtly) arrogant men in well tailored suits who, once I have committed, will semi-ignore me for most of our relationship yet try to compensate by buying me ridiculously expensive baubles and whatnots…it happens.

Well tonight this has all changed for me…as tonight I have fallen in love outside of my comfort zone. Yes, It is official…I, Miss GT is in love with a musician. A young classic rocker who plays the guitar like an angle and who wears eyeliner, fabulous jeans and talks with a raspy voice. I will say that unlike most musicians I did not see any visible tattoos which made him in my opinion even hotter since I think tattoos are vile…I digress.

So let me start from the beginning. I am in PR - a job that has many perks including access to random celebrities such as musicians and athletes that my client is heavily involved with. So tonight, for shits and giggles, we threw a concert with a pretty well known rock band for a bunch of press at a trade show. What was meant to be a standard let’s-rock-out-the-tell-me-what-you-thought-about-the-show kinda thing The band began their sound-check before our event and as I walk in from a rather tasty lunch I am confronted by one of the most gorgeous men I have laid eyes on in quite some time. And that was it all it took was one look and I was a goner.

I sat there watching him sing day dreaming about our one bed room flat in SF or NYC…him strumming away on his guitar singing to me the latest song he wrote about how quirky yet impossibly lovely I am and me sitting on a musicians stool wearing his band t-shirt with quirky yet impossibly lovely tousled hair. And in an hour it would all be over, my fabulous day dream, would end with loud applauses and me ushering media out.

Granted I am engaged to a very lovely arrogant man in a well-tailored suite who semi-ignores me yet buys me expensive crap all the time, but I could not help but feel that I and “Bill” the musician had a strong connection…as if we were meant to be together forever and ever. Sooooo, in a very random sketch way I gave him my number HA HA, not that he would ever call me and not that I would ever answer but in my old age I have to find ways to entertain myself.

I'm Back

There is this great line in the book and ensuing move “About a Boy”* that I often think about when analyzing my own life. While explaining one of his many random philosophies on life the main character ‘Will’ states: “you have to mean things to help people… Me, I didn't mean anything, about anything, to anyone. I knew that guaranteed me a long, depression-free life.” I often feel that way…not necessarily about helping people (just tell me whom to cut a check to and I will) but about other things in life…like doing my nails, volunteering for the holiday committee, saving money, going out with acquaintances and blogs.

I am all gun-ho in the start – almost to an obsessive point – and then I just don’t deliver, finish, show-up, et cetera. It is not for lack of intent because I am full of that, and I want to mean so many things to so many people, but in the end I just it is just don’t really do the things I set out to do. I guess I don’t really mean anything.

Take this blog for example. It started because I am highly impressionable and my friend D sent me her blog that I began to read religiously. Then via her blog I found another blog that like D’s I also read religiously. So inspired I started this blog but after 4 posts I stoped my quick love affair with it and sadly it has been weeks since my last post. Yet I spend my free moments blogging in my head (okay I do this all the time with or without the blog, I journal in my head about random things) yet don’t commit to paper or screen.

Well this is about to change folks, in the words of Elton John “This Bitch is Back” and my New Year’s resolution is to blog more about the randomness that is my life so rejoice dear readers.

*Total side note – I have a random obsession with this book and the character Will. Maybe it is because I am obsessed with Nick Hornby and all of his main characters? Or perhaps because, sans the trust fund account, I was very “Will” at one point in my life? Who knows, but I thought I should mention that’s all.