Labor of Love


I’m currently on my fauxcation* and I must say it’s been lovely with some strings attached. I bet you can’t guess where I am. Ok, I’ll tell you, Starbucks! (by the beach!) Not a shocker but I just about nearly beat an old man because he had his paws on my drink (Homie don’t play that). I’m going to try and really squeeze out some quality me time for the next couple of days so I can go back to the ol’ ball and chain with my head on straight. With that being said, I’ve had some time to do some introspection and have begrudgingly admitted to myself that most things in life that I’ve attempted have been nothing short of half-assed. In light of this slightly depressing realization, I plan on starting a project. I’ve decided it’s going to be my labor of love and something I’m going to pour my blood, sweat and tears into. I rarely go balls to the walls, but when I do I find myself to be impressed with my madness. So when this said project is finished, I plan on sharing it with the world for all to love, hate, or criticize. One thing I’ve learned in life, is that it is indeed too short not to have some thing that makes you wake up and smile. With that being said Happy New Year! And maybe, just maybe, I’ll write something that makes you chuckle. Who knows, maybe it’ll be sometime this week ūüôā Also, if I hear “New Year, New Me” ¬†one more time, I may have to choke someone…


* Stands for fake vacation because no one at my job seems to respect the fact that I’m on vacation so they insist on being in constant contact with me despite my being several hundred miles away from Satan’s Buttcrack**

**Refer’s to my loving pet name for Las Vegas, NV


Breaking Bad: Airplane Edition

I never thought I’d be directly affected by meth. I don’t know anyone immediately who does it (to my knowledge that is), but there I was on a Sunday night on an airplane with the stark reality that meth had become like ¬†a stick caught in the bicycle spokes that is my life (I have a flair for the dramatic). I’ve flown many times. I’ve never been scared to fly nor have I had any weird/scary situations arise during flights.

After having a great birthday weekend visiting my parents in Monterey, I was at the airport waiting for my flight. They were about an hour late boarding but I wasn’t going to sweat the small stuff, so I just went with it. Finally once we boarded, it literally took them a half hour to start the taking off process. In the aisle across from me, there was a weird oily dude sitting with an oddly shaped green duffle bag. I didn’t really think too much of him initially, now I’ll never forget him.

So this guy leaves for the bathroom and leaves his bag just sitting on the floor. He’d been in the bathroom for over 20 minutes, and I could tell the flight attendants were getting concerned. My initial thought was that there was something sketchy (a bomb perhaps) in his bag which was why he had left it so conspicuously out in the open. Well, I suppose I should stop and explain how my crazy little brain works. I have very polarized ways of dealing with everything. It’s literally hot or cold, yes or no with me (I’m trying to change). There is no middle ground. I’m either thinking everything is super duper dandy and great, or the sky is falling and the world will soon end (I’m not bipolar, I swear). This case was no different. So I’m in my seat calm and silently sending a prayer to the Big Guy Upstairs to let me in, because my life as I knew it was practically over (I told you, I’m dramatic).

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, this dude comes back to his chair. This time he had like a black soot/ash on his cheeks. Now my experience with spotting drugs and people on them is severely limited, but I thought it was odd. About 10 minutes go by and then the police board the plane. A flight attendant goes behind the dude and signals him to the cops. Now, at this time he (drugged out idiot) is skittish as all get out. He’s fidgeting with a brush in his hair, looking around erratically, and just can’t sit still. Finally, I stop thinking about my impending afterlife and realize that this moron had been doing drugs in the bathroom. The cops ask him to get off the plane and come with them. To add insult to injury, this idiot had the gull to ask the officers if there was a problem (don’t do drugs kids).

The captain spoke over the intercom and said they were going to do a sweep in the bathroom to see if we’d still be able to go. We weren’t. The flight was cancelled and scheduled for the next evening. I felt bad because I had to call my parents to have them come pick me up again as I was stuck for another day. The plus side was that I got an extra relaxation day out of it; but the whole ordeal was incredibly inconvenient.

In my sick and cynical sense of humor, I teased some of the other passengers by saying, “If we had left on time maybe the junkie could’ve held on for the hour flight and done the drugs in Vegas, so thank you Allegiant Air!” (More on Allegiant Air in my next post). It got a few laughs, so I was satisfied. You’re probably wondering how in the hell does one get meth past those touchy little TSA people. Well, the Monterey airport is so small and antiquated that all they have is a metal detector. Bottom line, if you decide you want to reenact Breaking Bad, I’d advise you not to do it on an airplane, or at least not on a flight that I’m on.


View from my window seat before we were deplaned

Treat Receipt Heaven

I make no excuses for my Starbucks addiction. I’m a junkie, and I have no problem admitting that. At least it’s not drugs right? (Though darn near as expensive!) My rationale is that until I’m hitting the corner for my habit, I’m alright. This past month has been the treat receipt promo. It’s where you buy a drink before 2pm and get a grande drink for $2 after 2pm. It’s quite genius because not only are you buying one drink, but you’re going back a second time because you’re getting a deal! I’m aware that I’m spending more money, but as I’ve said about my “sale” habits, they get the best of me. Plus I’m fortunate enough to have some of the coolest baristas around. I suppose it’s common sense to be nice to the person who’s buying a $5 coffee beverage, but they do it so well! I did start brewing coffee at home to try and manage my addiction, but with this promotion going on, all bets are off. Anyway, I’m off to get my morning java so I can get my treat receipt! If this is wrong, then I don’t want to be right! Stay caffeinated, my friends!



To Meetup or Not Meetup; That is the Question

So earlier I had discussed how I joined a nonfiction book club on and I was too chicken to go to the meeting. Well I found one that was about fiction, writing, and coffee hosted by someone who was actually in my age group (score!). Of course like any girl ever, I creeped on the other potential attendees to get a sense of what I was up against. Besides the moderator, there was another girl around my age so I was pretty optimistic about the odds. There were two older gentlemen signed up to go as well.

To be completely honest, I was dismayed when I saw the two older dudes on the list. It has been my experience that most men that age participating in the event are either inappropriately flirtatious trying to seek out a potential young caregiver, very lonely and use the group as a talk therapy session, or both. So on the first meeting I had my reservations, but I went anyway.

The first sign I knew it would go well was the fact that it was held at a Starbucks (reading¬†and¬†my java addiction fueled at once?! Hallelujah!). I met the moderator and it turned out that we hit it off. I knew I liked her once we had shared our mutual disdain about how pretentious Juno was (My apologies if you love that movie, but no 16 year old pregnant girl has the sense of humor that of a cynical 30 year old). Was I really about to make a new friend in this crazy city?! Though I did thoroughly enjoy my time during the meeting, my reservations were not completely off base. Cue creepy old dude…

I have to first start off by saying only 1 out of the 2 older gentlemen was pervy. He was definitely¬†over sharing¬†about his personal life. (Hey, this is the first meeting of a book club, not an Oprah couch session). ¬†The topic of magazines came about and he just had to mention his only magazine of choice was “Playboy”. Naturally…What the pervy guy lacked the other guy made up for. He had this grandfatherly sage wisdom appearance about him. He spoke thoughtfully and contributed intelligent and relevant banter into the conversation. I will admit that I’m really a 45 year old trapped inside of a 23 year old, so I enjoy the company of people twice+ my age from time to time. (Ugh I think I sound like Juno ūüėČ )

All in all, I am very excited that I grew a pair and went to the first meeting. I ended up meeting people whose company I actually enjoyed. Admittedly I’ve fallen off the bandwagon of being a fully functional human being and boarded the workaholic train.¬†Even the creepy old guy was a somewhat welcome change to my¬†monotonous work fueled life that I’ve been living for the better part of a year. If stepping off the ledge and jumping into a book club could be this fun, who knows what other interesting endeavors I could be missing out on. Until next time…