Weddings Woes

Hi! Missed me? Maybe? I've missed you! I'll try and make more time to write. Promise. But, like, life and what not.

I want to preface all this with that this is THE most first world thing to bitch about ever. Okay? I understand. I get it. I'm gonna do it anyway.

Wow, April (and also May)

Sorry for the extended writing absence. Even now I should be doing research and not writing but I'm sort of exhausted and my brain is in over-drive so here I am. A LOT has been going on. (And I started writing this post weeks ago and of course didn't finish so forgive the back tracking and then rambling as well.)

Sorry!

Much like TK wrote yesterday, I got chided by my stepsis for not writing more. Hey! People notice when I don't write! What? Now I feel special.

Holidaze Travel

First an apology: this is getting up late, as I was busy with the holiday season. But you were similarly busy so you didn't really miss me, did you?

Oh man do I love Christmas time. I'm like the reverse Grinch. I hate everything else all the time but put some lights on a tree and I'm all big eyed wonder. And carols! And all the glittering everything! From wrapping paper to sequined tops! (How did we decide sequined clothing is appropriate for the holidays/New Year and then Easter is all pastels? Who made that a thing? Why can't I wear sequins to Easter brunch?) Christmas trees with ornaments! Puppies in windows for adoption! All the baked goods ever! Tidings of good cheer!

Interesting...

There's been a lot going on these past few weeks in this place I'm from.

Sorry for the slight absence. I've been, dare I say, kinda busy?

Several things. List form. You know the drill.

Familia

It was my cousin's birthday Monday so we did the perfunctory family dinner. It led to a good deal of amusement.

Strippers and Grandma

My sainted grandmother, who I never recall in my early life ever saying anything about the attractiveness of men, she was a grandma after all!, later in life developed a huge, inexplicable crush on...Matthew McConaughey. Yeah, I don't really get it either. But she LOVED him. She was in the hospital at the end and you'd say something about him, or her other long time crush, her cardiologist, and she'd light right up.

LOL Momz (on golf)

My mom spent Thursday and Saturday working at the U.S. Open. Through a scheduling fluke, the powers that be put my mother, who knows next to nothing about golf, at the 18th green. She was the last cop stationed before the players hiked up the stairs to go to the clubhouse from 10 a.m. 'til 8 p.m. on those two days.

This led to many many hysterical interactions and my mother pushing the limits of my golf knowledge. But mostly it involved her saying absurd mom things. I couldn't resist sharing some of my mom's observations from her time there.

Family Ruins Everything

Last night I had a family dinner to attend. It was with my two aunts, my cousin, and my mom. It's a girls dinner with pretty much the few members of the family that still all get along after my grandmother's death. (Irish Catholic blood feuds, ftw!)

It's very pleasant and I get a free meal at a nice restaurant.

Except.

It was Game 3 of the Capitals/Rangers series. It wasn't going to be a deciding game, as it's a best of 7 series, with a game a piece split, but still, playoff hockey is the bestest.

I watched the first period and a half before we had to head to dinner in Mill Valley.

And dinner was fine. The conversation is polite and my family is nice and all but I was itching to watch the hockey game.

Sunny and Inside

For those of you who don't live in San Francisco, and haven't read everything I've ever written: our weather hovers around 60. With that comes a ton of fog. It's not the worst place to live, obviously, but I tend to thrive in absurd heat. I lived in South Louisiana for a few years and absolutely adore high heat with high humidity. Never have any doubt that I'm really weird.

Because of our coastal location next to a valley, we only get about 8 days a year that aren't 60 and foggy. A few weeks ago we got a thunderstorm and everyone was like, "WTF? What IS this? I don't even..." (TK killed it writing about the thunderstorm.) Our weather is consistent: 60, foggy.

This weekend we've got sun. And warmth. Lots of sun and warmth.


None of which I am out actually enjoying.

Weirdness

Things got kind of weird today.

When all else fails...

pull on the parental heart strings.

(This post is coming a little late. I got all distracted by that whole losing the National Title thing/new year exercise regimen.)

Well that was interesting...

Today was weird. In a sort of surreal way. I was hanging out at the beach house, staying in bed way too late, not really wanting to face the day. I finally got out of bed and hadn't been up and about for more than a half an hour when my mom called. I was hesitant to answer because it's usually some annoying thing like "What are you doing with your day?" type question. She wanted to know if I was back at her house yet. I took this as a "get home" request but she wanted to know because the alarm company had called and the alarm was going off. I told her no, I wasn't. I could tell that she was at the dog park with the dogs and my stepdad and thus our house was, as it so rarely is, completely empty.

12-0

We did it. We're 12-0. A perfect regular season. Easily the most dominant team in college football. We beat 7 ranked opponents on the way to that record, including #3 TWICE and #2. If we haven't earned a trip to the BCS title game, I don't know who has.

Unfortunately, it's not over. We have to make a trip to Atlanta next week to take on the University of Georgia Bulldogs (a mascot that I cannot add to my menu, unfortunately. Though, maybe hot dogs?) to play in the SEC Championship game. Win that game and we punch a ticket to New Orleans for the national title game. Lose that game...and there is still, according to those who know such things, a chance that we can make it to New Orleans. The National Title being held in New Orleans almost makes it a home game. We've won it the last two times it was held in New Orleans. Ticket prices go WAY up (those futures available on Gilt look like a steal now, but you surely know that at the beginning of the season my superstitious nature won't let me purchase them. That, and even at face value, I don't have the money).

Trying

Know how pretty much every story from every Saturday in football season goes, "Went to bar, got drunk, LSU won, met a boy, sooooo hungover"? Yeah. Not this one. Other than LSU winning, it was the opposite of all that. Suckeh suckeh sucks. Actually, just listen to this:

Avenue Q pretty much sums up my life right now. And not in a good way. I'm trying to be positive and have a "YAY! CAN DO!" attitude. People, you should know by now I am not made for that sort of sugar coated bullshit attitude. Which means there is a lot of complaining after the jump.

Waves on waves

Yesterday, and today so far, were so much better than the emo bullshit filled Monday. (My dad is currently in surgery and I have to go pick him up in a bit, so there's still that.)

I got my nails did and then made myself walk the half a mile or so down the beach to check out the Rip Curl Pro by myself. I was glad I did. Ocean Beach has never felt more like the North Shore of Oahu or Huntington than it currently does. And watching pro anything is so much different than amateur anything. These guys, these professionals who do this for a living and points and money (first prize is $75k!), are amazing to watch. And hot. And that brings attractive people to the beach.

I followed surfing a bit in high school. I had magazines and such but I have never surfed myself (one of those things I am chicken about doing for fear of sucking. I need to get over that). I lived across the street from Ocean Beach since I was 13 and somehow was friends with a few surfer kids who would drop by and hose off in my garage. But when I moved to Louisiana, I stopped following it. There isn't much use for surf knowledge in South Louisiana, outside of it being an adorable quirk.

(My roommate, a Southern Californian, and I were once walking across campus in decidedly surfer style clothes, I was wearing boy board shorts a lot back then, she was in a bucket hat with braids, and some guy stops us and says, "I think you got lost on your way to the beach." So clever, frat boy!) (It's so weird to think of that being my fashion. Feels really far removed from now. Tons of Rusty and Quicksilver. I always wore long shorts, no daisy duke stuff, and I was all insecure then (shocked face) but I bet I looked kinda adorable walking around all California surfer cool in Louisiana, even when it was mostly guy clothes because no one was really making awesome girls clothes yet. Plus, ya know, skinny, not unattractive, completely unaware. Ah to be 19 again...)

Anyway, the surfing was amazing, the sun was fantastic, the crowd watching was also fantastic. I don't know quite how the schedule for this thing works or when it ends or how long it lasts but I want to check all of it out that I can. I'm a little bummed I can't catch Kelly Slater's heat later, as my high school/watching too much Baywatch self would very much like to check that out but such is life.

I ended up talking to my dad's best friend who was on the beach, as he came to check out the surf competition too. He wants me to consult on his landlord/tenant/contract dispute issue. I told him I would, once he got me some more information. The sheer fantastic irony of it is that dad's best friend is the 22 year old jackass's older brother.

I am a HUGE fan of the slow burn. Of revenge being a dish best served cold. The long con. I don't need to tell you go to screw off right now and angrily. I need to just be around to make your life miserable and ruin something later. I am not patient about many things, but being right, getting my way, and proving you to be the jackass that you are? That I can be patient about. Yeah, I'm kinda evil. You aren't surprised. (To clarify: me being around and having an opportunity to be present for anything that may happen gives me the opportunity to employ future revenge. Like when he, in a years time, wants to bartend at our family party and I get to vehemently say no.)

I was surprised when my mom kept making these cutting comments about my dad's surgery and being jealous that I've been over there a lot lately and I thought "Geez lady! Just. Let. It. Go." They've been divorced far longer than they've been married at this point. Twice as long, in fact. And then I had the ah-ha moment and went, "Oh. Ha. I guess that's where I get my own grudge holding as all get out nature from. Go figure." We're working on these things. I promise.

So: here's to more surfing, a continued uptick in mood, and oh yeah, an LSU victory on Saturday. And less emo bullshit. Muah!

Wapah!

That's the whip sound up there. And it refers to my brother. I was just on Facebook and his girlfriend's status is the following:

"My lovey is making me homemade chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner! Just like his momma use to on rainy days. ♥"

Several things about that:

1. A year ago, before my brother was all involved with a girl, he couldn't boil water. He didn't have dishes in his house. He ate out all the time. I'm fairly certain he couldn't make eggs. Now all of a sudden he's making soup from scratch? Women be the greatest arbiters of change in men.

2. I seriously must be adopted. I have exactly zero recollection of that EVER being a meal that my mother made. I don't recall her making chicken soup from scratch when I was growing up. I remember Campbell's. Not that she can't make soup, she just more often made broccoli soup or mushroom soup. In fact, I'm the one that makes the chicken soup, not her. And I don't use noodles. Hysterically, I made that exact meal for my mom and I last week when I was sick. (Except I had the soup frozen from a previous batch I'd made, but still...) 

I'm not entirely shocked that him and I have incredibly different memories. As we get older and talk about stuff, what he remembers from our childhood and what I remember diverges significantly. He'll ask me about an event and I'll have no memory of it and vice versa. I do recall from my psychology of memory class in college that we all remember the same events differently and no one really understands the brain and blah blah. But still: never ever with the homemade chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese. 

3. I'll forgive the leaving off of the "d" after "use" but the heart? I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. 

In all honesty, it has been a massive sea change to see my brother in an honest to god relationship. He's like an actual human being. Not the jerk I was used to dealing with. I totally applaud his girlfriend, who I really like, for having such a positive impact on his life. I mean, he still has his moments, he will always be him, but our relationship, the way he treats me has improved greatly. So I hope they never ever break up so he doesn't go back to being a jerk face. 

Weekend Lunacy

You guys. It was...pretty epic. It involved doing shots of Crown Royal with the Canadian Navy (all of who were super ridiculously good looking. I mean, even their girls were really pretty. Like stunningly. Like way too pretty to be trapped on a ship. Gorgeous. And the guys were all tall and...Canadian.) It involved accomplishing a long held goal of sorts. It involved kicking the ever loving pants off the University of Florida in football. It was full of win. And then the worst hangover of football season/the year so far on Sunday which is kind of a loss. Oh, and it involved ordering a replacement credit card. So. Yeah.

Momz Lolz

SF has rare sun and since I inherited a genetic ability to tan, I've mostly been in the backyard at the beach house working on looking like George Hamilton.

But a quick tidbits from the land of LOLZ Mother Daughter Relationships!

It is well established that I am an adult, in age if not in actual behavior. Unfortunately no matter how old you get, your mother will inevitably still treat you like you are five. This is particularly true if you are female though slightly true still if you are male.

We were discussing Europe the other day and I said that I really want to go back but that when I do I'd like to take in a soccer match. I missed going to a France friendly when I was in Paris and despite being in Eurocup cities while there, I missed that too. I figure soccer in Europe is like THE biggest cultural thing you can do. Sure sure, it's the church, museum, castle tour, as one friend dubbed it after walking through yet another one of Europe's gorgeous landmarks, but that gets tiring. Soccer is where you'd see Europeans be Europeans. It'd be the equivalent of me dragging some European on vacation to LSU/Bama game. I mean, why would you not, and me in particular, want to experience that? I want to chant and sway and drink pints and make out with soccer fans in London/Munich/Amsterdam pubs. That sounds pretty much like an ideal vacation for me, actually.

My mother flips out. It's like she's hit that age where she's reading Reader's Digest and if it was in there then it's gospel and we're all gonna die. One too many Dateline on the evils of college binge drinking and how your child is behaving features, ya know? Unnecessary panic at every turn. And maybe some of it is actually necessary panic but if you are anything nearing normal, the amount you keep from your parents should far surpass the amount you tell them. Considering she has no actual idea what I get up to a vast amount of the time, her worry is unwarranted. There are just these lines we keep that allow us to live our own lives and for our parents to only moderately worry about us, even when we're adults. I find this whole her freaking out thing even more comical because it's not like my mother is elderly. She's 21 years older than me, for those who feel like doing math. She likes sports cars and fancy restaurants and CARRIES A GUN FOR A LIVING. But something about me, her daughter, makes her all irrationally protective.

"You can't go to a soccer game! People die at those! They get trampled!" I point out to her that I spent the better part of my late teens/early 20s attending football in a 90k person stadium without incident but when arguing with your mother it is best not to employ anything in the realm of logic. "No! It's too dangerous!" This, again, is why we keep things from our parents. This is why we learn "It's better to ask forgiveness than permission." I brush her off and stop the conversation. I have no plans to actually be in Europe anytime soon so it's moot. Also: if I am in Europe I am going and there's very little she can do about it.

I didn't point out that I also backpacked around Europe for a month, 2 years ago, BY MYSELF and geezus the volumes she doesn't know about that... Again, the things we keep from our parents.

Yesterday I took a walk on the beach alone. At dinner my mom asked me about it. I said I took the usual route (Noriega to the Cliff House), but that since tide was low I actually walked around the Cliff House point to the Sutro Baths ruins and back. "I hope you were careful!" LOLZ, WUT? "You shouldn't laugh at the ocean! It's dangerous." I'm laughing at you, not the ocean. You're being ridiculous. "Well the tide could have come back in!" In the ten minutes it took me to walk around the point? Yeah, no. "Well! I worry! It's not like I can get another one of you! It's not like you're a puppy!" Geezus lady, seriously? Just...chillax. I've been crossing streets fairly competently alone since I was about 5. Pretty sure I can make it around a small cliff and back without getting swept out to sea.

And then every so often, your mother will say something completely surprising. I mentioned that Top Gun had played in Dolores Park, a movie we should all know by now I am devoted to, but that I didn't go a) because football takes precedence on Saturdays and b) I hate sitting with hippies smoking pot outside. I get it, I live in SF. Everyone is allowed to blaze up wherever they damn well feel like it. Fine. Whatever. But personally? I HATE the smell of pot smoke. It gives me an instant headache. I also find annoying the sort of cavalier "don't give a fuck" attitude all the stoners have about it. God forbid anyone smoke a cigarette within 500 feet of another human being without someone obnoxiously making gagging sounds in this city but weed smoke wafts from everywhere. (I don't smoke cigarettes either, unless extremely drunk, but the hypocrisy of it is hysterical.) My mother is actually one of those coughing gagging "OMG cigarette smoke!" types. She was constantly fanning herself and complaining when we were in Paris. Mom, it's FRANCE. This is how they do. You need to adapt.

So I mention the thing about the weed smoke. Her response? "Really? You hate it? I LOVE the smell of weed smoke."

Seriously: LOLZ WUT? Momz.

The Weekend

I finally got out of the serious funk I've been in lately by remembering some basic truths, mainly: I'm kinda awesome. And what makes me awesome is going out in the world and having experiences. When I hide from that, I suck at life and feel crappy. I may be a giant disaster of a person, but I'm not the world's biggest fuck up, which is how I'd been feeling. Just an average ordinary fuck up. I have some redeeming qualities, right? All the mistakes and missteps that lead to all the ridiculous stories I write about are my mistakes and missteps and I own them. So here's to more mistakes and missteps! Or, um, maybe a few less mistakes but still good stories.

This weekend, despite pervasive SF summer fog, was pretty awesome. It started by leaving the fog and going to Santa Rosa to pick up the stepmom. Since dad and I got there early, we headed to his friend's winery not too far away and sat on the giant wrap around porch drinking wine early in the afternoon. His house is gorgeous and it's a flower...farm? along with being a wedding site and vineyard and it was pretty fun. Except the mom of the 1 year old, dad's friend's fiance, told the one year old, about to unplug something on the porch to, "Make good decisions!" Sorry for this but: lolz wut? I don't have kids, nor want them, but pretty sure at 1 you just tell them NO. They don't have the cognitive ability to understand what making a decision is. I learned that much in some child psych class I took in college. It was surreal.

Anyway, there are worse things than private wine tasting in Sonoma. The wine drinking continued with dinner at a Santa Rosa wine bar and more wine on stepmom's front porch. Got home and watched movies, chatted on the internet with friends 'til too late and finally passed out. 

Despite being a little worse for the wear the next day, I still managed to go kick some gym ass before making dinner and heading to the party my brother and two friends were holding at a bar for their birthdays. I love the heck out of my brother's friends. Him and I may have our sibling rivalry differences (which amazingly enough are starting to lessen with the introduction of his girlfriend who has completely humanized him. Even one of his lifelong best friends last night said, "Yeah. He's not an asshole now that he's with her." Awww!) but he has legit awesome friends who I have known for years and years, some of them going back to when we were little kids. And they've mostly all now gotten married to super cool girls who I really like too. (Except the one wife I really like and her husband are apparently having lots of issues and he's mentioned divorce, but for seeing them at occasional social events, she's really cool and I hope they work through it.)

It was held at this 70s themed bar that we had to ourselves from 7-10 p.m. Once my mom left, or really before that even, we had some serious fun. I never didn't have a beer in my hand and I spent exactly zero dollars. Considering I arrived at 7:30 with my mom and left at 2:15 with my dad, I HURT today.

There isn't much of a rundown of the party to give, other than it was cool people and lots of chatting but some quotes to frame the evening:

After about twenty minutes at the bar, brother's good friend, "You're a bitch!" Me, "Yeah, you say that like it's a bad thing." "Why you gotta be so meaaaan?" "Awww, Charlie, if I didn't pick on you it would mean I didn't like you. Be glad for that." Mom, "It's true."

Brother's best friend's wife: "We can't be parents yet. Joe and I won't even let the dogs out. They want to pee at 2 a.m.? They can pee in the house. I'd rather deal with it in the morning than get out of bed and let them out. Could you imagine if we had a kid?"

Firefighter friend: "Hey! You know my friend, (Guy that screwed with my head 2 summers ago and is also a firefighter)?" Me, "Yes, of course." FF, "He's still single." Me, withering glare, "Fuuuuuuuuuuck yoooouuu." Grab other firefighter friend, who knows the whole story of all that transpired between me and this guy, "Know what Mike just said to me?! '(Firefighter)'s still single!'" He laughs hysterically.

Standing between Joe and Mike, both married to lovely ladies. Mike, "Yeah, (guy we went to grade school with) still hates me because I hooked up with that girl that was his ex." Me, "Oh yeah! I forgot you hooked up with her! I was there that night...And Joe made out with her best friend! And I stopped hanging out with all those girls because I realized they were using me to get to (brother)'s friends, which is you guys, and for free drinks at bars where I knew the bartenders. You guys are directly responsible for that!" Joe, out of earshot of wife, "Ya know what though? She was a crazy good kisser. She was like really into it. And then I'm still hungover the next morning walking home, you already had the word somehow and I see you and you yell out the window to me, 'Heard you made out with (skanky ho)!' That was fun. Felt like throwing up right then." Me, "Yep. She's married to some dude that's like 15 years older than her and has a 3 year old now." Joe, "Like I give a shit." Love these boys.

Joe, "$60 if you make out with that dude." Me, "Seriously, do you not know me at all? You really don't have to pay me to make out with people. Is this how married people amuse themselves?" 

Mike, "Where'd Sean go?" Me, "He left with a girl." Mike, "Sean? Never. He did not." Me, "I swear to god! He just got in a cab with some girl!" Brother, "No way. Sean does not get in cabs with girls." Me, "Trust me. He's gone." Mike, "Well shit. He was my ride home." Me, "Dude, you live eight blocks from me. We'll take you home."

One of the best things about the night is all the hugs. My brother is not a small person and he does not surround himself with small people and it's just all these big dudes and tall girls and I feel kind of small, which is unusual, with big bear hugs from guys I consider to be like brothers to me. It's the best. 

There were also many not unattractive guys there, who won't come within a thousand feet of me because I'm my brother's sister. (This is how I'm known in SF. Not by my name. They just shout his name, possessive, and then add sister. Love you San Francisco!) Also, the most attractive and adorable guy I talked to, who I had been told was adorable but had never met, happens to be a cop. Sigh. I'd consider amending my no cops policy. If, ya know, I had a chance in hell with this totally adorable dude. Which I don't. Double sigh. (He was in San Diego when I was, but I didn't meet him then, and a certain stepsister of mine totally underplayed his adorableness. But I've also heard he's over the top ridiculous with women in the not understanding relationships and doing stupid things for them and needs the sort of tough touch I can provide. If I had the opportunity.)

I finally changed out of the clothes I wore to the bar on Saturday at about 5 p.m. on Sunday (I keep it classy), just in time to head to a steakhouse for my brother's actual birthday dinner. Since I am broke, I made him about 10 pounds of homemade cookies. I had told his girlfriend, who has a sweet tooth, what I was doing, so when I give them to him, she gets excited and goes to grab them. But funny enough, my brother didn't want to share. Sometimes I do things right. It's rare, but it happens.