Handlin' my bidness

It's time for me to dress like a grown up. At least, during the weekdays.

Mind you, I'm petite, broad-shouldered and have a medium built ( a lil' curvy.) Suits tend to make me look boxy. Nothing too expensive but I'll spend a bit so the pant or skirt suits don't look cheap. I just need to add some suits to my wardrobe.

Anyone have any ideas where I should buy my big girl clothes?

The story about Butter

Picture it, San Francisco, Mary Ward Hall, 1999 ....

I was living in the dorms my first year at SFSU. My roommate, Meghan, was also a junior and we lived on a floor that was not only co-ed but mixed with freshmen, sophomores and juniors.

Our room looked a like this, except with a much narrower space between the beds. No, our dorm was not this spacious but the set up was the same:


Our furniture wasn't quite as classy as this, though.

So, imagine that there was half as much walking space between the two beds and definitely no room for a night stand. That was my dorm room. Our beds also folded in so they served as couches during the day. If you've ever lived in the dorms, you probably know that people prop their doors open during the day so people know that you're in and available to socialize.

I was sitting on my bed (left) and my roommate was sitting at her desk (right.) Our dormmate, Kelly, walked in. Kelly, a little socially inept, just plopped right down on Meghan's bed without asking and was probably telling me about her terrible day at work or class. I don't remember. All I know is that Meghan got up from her desk and had to squeeze between the beds and us in order to get to her closet. As she walked by, Kelly said to us, "Do you smell that?"

Meghan, at her closet, sniffed the room. "No."

I sniffed the air. "You mean the buttered popcorn? I think someone's popping popcorn."

Kelly looked at Meghan and said, "Are you on your period?"

Meghan, not sure if this was a joke, asked "No, why?"

Kelly, dead serious, "When you walked by, I smelled period."

I thought Meghan was pretty nice not to smack Kelly. I mean, Kelly was sitting on her bed as she insulted her. Seven years later, I still vividly remember this incident.

I recently told my coworkers about this and, sometimes, we ask each other if we have buttered popcorn.

And that is the story of "butter."

Thursday is my Friday

Tomorrow is the last Friday I get the day off. *sigh*

Today is my friend's birthday. Maria is my partner in crime at work. She is the person who provokes me to whisper obscenities when no one can hear us. She also challenges me to creatively find different ways to say vagina. I gave her a birthday card this morning, telling her that she is a wonderful friend, talented, smart, and all that good stuff. Then I ended with:

PS: Bearded clams rule. But stinky, buttery* ones do not.

Today, I also visited Tel. I was in the city for a meeting and it when it was over, I was smackdab in the middle of rush hour. So I dropped by and she made me hot chocolate (thanks!) We chatted for a bit and then she went to the gym while I finished my hour commute. Before I left, Tel also gave me some fine literature to take home:

Friendship is a beautiful thing.

*Next entry, I will share the "buttery" reference.

What's in a name?

I keep changing my mind about this one.

The Man and I, while not close to getting married, talk comfortably about what life would be like, how we would be, yadda yadda yadda. These topics never stir up a serious conversation and we usually end up laughing. Then the married name vs. maiden name came up.

When we first talked about it, I didn't mind. Much. I told him, if he really wanted it, of course I would take his last name. But please know that this is a big sacrifice to me because I LOVE my last name. I'm very proud of it. But if it was so important to him, what the heck? I'd change it. After all, don't almost all women?

Stupid, stupid me. I should have given my opinion more thought because I misled The Man in thinking that I didn't have a problem with this identity change. What made me really give it a second thought? I ran into my old coworker, Monica Lam.

Monica is about 20 years older than me. She was telling me all about her kids and then gave me her teenage son's newest school picture. I asked her to write his name in the back (b/c I'm terrible with names) and she wrote 'Mike Shultzlam.' I must have looked confused. "Oh," she said, "my son has a different last name than me. Actually, we all have different last names. My husband's last name is Shultz, mine is Lam, and we decided to give the kids Shultzlam."

As she's telling me this, I have a few thoughts. Don't the kids get confused? Doesn't the whole last name cause a fiasco when traveling or even just trying to straighten all that out with their schools? I end up asking her, "You didn't take your husband's last name? I know more women do it now but wasn't it unheard of when you got married?" Monica responded, "Why should I change my name? I told my husband, "you can change your last name to Lam but I'm not changing mine to Shultz!" and he understood. It's my name, I should be able to keep it if that's what I want."

If you know me, as most of you do, I'm sure you know I'm thinking, "Yah! Damn straight! Why do I have to change my name??!!"Woe is The Man. I know he doesn't see it as marking his territory. He just wants to proudly introduce his wife as "Mrs. R@mirez." Just a way of giving a little something of himself to his wife.

But I mean it, I LOVE my last name. My father has taught me a lot about my family, the culture (particularly the province he is from in the Philippines) and I love that my last name keeps me literally tied to all of that history. The Man understands. This is exactly why he loves his last name. He is so proud and has stated on many different occasions that he would want his wife to take his name. And I never had a real problem with it. Until I talked to Monica. She made me realize how connected I am to my last name and that I really don't want to part with it.

I half teasingly ask The Man if I could hyphenate my last name. This would mean thatif we were to marry, my last name would be seven syllables and 19 letters long. Yahhh, I'm going to have to pass on that one. So I asked him this weekend if he would mind if I didn't change my last name. I don't know if he thought I was being serious but he said, "As long as the children have my last name." I'm a bit afraid that if he knew I was serious, his feelings would be hurt.

So, what's in a name? I guess I won't worry about this until it's time for me to worry. Until then, I'll blissfully go on being an "@duviso."

Birth control pills can only help so much

I went to my alma mater today. I made a purchase at the campus bookstore and guess what was in each plastic bag? A pamphlet for Proactiv Solution!

What are they trying to say?! (Well, as someone who broke out a lot in college, I suppose this marketing plan is pretty smart. Cheese pizzas, beers and cramming 'til 4am doesn't really help a person's complexion.)

But it's not even a sample, it's just a pamphlet. Hmm, since SFSU is so liberal, I wonder if the kids are going to make a big stink about it and force the bookstore to remove the pamphlets. (You would be surprised what fires them up.)

Anyhow, I don't have anything to blog about. I was just tired of seeing my previous entry title every time I accessed my blog. Yes, those words come out of my mouth but it's quite different to repeatedly read it. I mean, I am a lady. Most of the time.

"Her pants are so tight, I can see her clit."

That, my friends, is the kind of stuff that is said at work.

No, no, no, not in front of customers or my boss (well, unless she's in a good mood.) These conversations are said behind closed doors, way in the back of the building where our offices are hidden.

There are three or four of us that try to out-gross each other. Of course, still respecting each other's bounderies. For instance, I get queasy talking about feces or getting too detailed about the bunghole. But for whatever reason, I am A-OK talking about vaginas and penises. Odd, isn't it?

Here's an example of a conversation from last week. Keep in mind, this is while we work. Usually when we're doing our menial tasks like printing and copying. (Working at a non profit means you make speeches at public forums, develop PR materials, ask wealthy companies and individuals for money, and by golly, you're still not too good to cut paper and stuff envelopes. But, over all, I like my job and don't mind this part. Much.)

Me: "Hey, did I ever tell you guys that I never heard of the word, "twat" until my boyfriend told me?"

Suzy: "Whaa?? You just learned the word, "twat?!""

Me: "Well, three years ago! But yes, the word is fairly new to me."

Maria to Suzy: "Hey! Have you heard "bearded clam?" We just learned that one last night." This is from the same guy who taught us deep throat protein blast.

Me: "Stinky bearded clam!" That's right folks, I'm 27 years old and a college graduate.

Suzy, giggling: "That's my husband's favorite term! I'm going to tell him you guys just learned it."

A few minutes later, talking about another topic ...

Suzy: "Maria, are you going to Europe this year?" Sigh. "I've never been to Europe. I'm so jealous."

Maria: "Awww, you can still go! Why don't you go this year?"

Suzy: "Yah, right. Two kids, a husband ..." Turns to me. "Trust me when I tell you - don't get married. Travel. Then travel some more. Just wait before you get hitched!"

Maria, laughing: "Oh, that's right! You haven't heard Sue go off about getting married too early. I told her she should hold a workshop here at work to all the women in their 20s."

Me: "Hey, you know what you can call it? "Lock The Twat!" I'll even make you flyers."

Snort, snort, giggle, giggle.

We are exempt staff, living on a shoestring budget, and working our as$es off 40-60 hours a week. Sources of amusement are scarce. We are forced to make our own.

Sister diagnosed me with OCD

... and since I don't want to pay a professional $100-$500 (depending on how many sessions it would take to diagnose me) I'm just going to believe her.

Here's the problem - I'm scared to have a party or a large group of people over. OK, more than one person at a time. Yes that's large to me! I live on my own ( although The Man is a part-time roommate) and cannot stand to clean someone else's "stuff" in the bathroom. I mentioned this in passing in an old blog entry - that other's people hair and "stuff" grosses me out. I'm talking about this b/c I cleaned today. I vacuumed, dusted, scrubbed the floors and cleaned my two bathrooms.

This is where I'm going to get a bit more specific. Only a couple of people use my bathroom besides me. Both men. I almost gagged when I cleaned the toilet. Under the rim was very dirty. (Wasn't aware of this until I started scrubbing and "stuff" came falling down.) OK, I'm warning you, this is TMI - I know for a fact that my "stuff" doesn't cause shrapnel. That's just how I was made, OK?! So I'm grossed out b/c I'm cleaning someone else's "stuff." And then, in the other bathroom, there are pee sprinkles on the rim. Not as gross but still! (I don't get it. The toilet hole is HUGE. How do you STILL hit the damn rim and sometimes, the floor??? Yes, men, I'm talking to you! Fortunately, I think only one man reads this blog so, Cousin, I'm sorry to shout out your gender but for crap's sake!)

I can only imagine what my bathrooms would look like after a party or having a group of people over for a few days. This truly SCARES me. I shared this fear with my Sister, Demondoll, and she said, "I think you have OCD." So then I told her, I want friends to come over and I want them to be comfortable. More importantly, I want to keep them as friends after their stay instead of what I think could happen which is me not wanting to talk to them for a month b/c I had to clean their funk. So Sister suggested that I have a "Housekeeping tips" sheet in my guest room. It will help spell out my home's quirks as well as my own. It's going to look something like this-

LULU'S HOUSEKEEPING TIPS

Welcome! I'm so glad you'll be staying with me. Here are some things you should know to make your stay more comfortable:
1. Food - My fridge is your fridge! Crack open Big Martha when you need a bite.
2. Courtesy flushes - For whatever reason, the plumbing is weak. If you're going to be on the seat for a while, I strongly recommend that you flush intermittently. (If this procedure fails you, the plunger is in the garage.)
3. Heat - It get chilly! You determine which is more important, warmth or privacy. If you choose heat, keep your bedroom door open.
4. Showers - please keep your bathroom door open and just lock your bedroom door. It's an old house and there is no fan to prevent dampness.
5. Clorox wipes - conveniently located in your bathroom! The housekeeper gets very queasy when it comes to "shrapnel" in, on, and around the toilet. So please use them. (By "housekeeper," I mean me.)

I'm hoping that this will help my guests work around my OCD. If all else fails and they leave my bathroom wronger than wrong, I will pay someone to clean my bathroom. And then mail my guests the bill. Just kidding. But I'm not sure if I will talk to them for a month or so. Hey, I have to be honest! I have a weak stomach to the dismay of (1) my microbiologist mom who has to deal with ALL types of human excretion (2) my manly father who is not scared of but laughs in the face of dirt, grime, and grossness and (3) The Man, also quite manly, who has to deal with all sorts of nastiness on a construction site.

Don't misunderstand me, I am not a neat freak! It takes me forever to get into the cleaning mode (usually once a month.) I leave papers everywhere. I shed my long hair everywhere. It's just bathroom "stuff" that freak me out. Even when I had roommates! Once, after a party, I bribed my three roommates by agreeing to clean the living room and kitchen if I didn't have to touch the bathrooms.

So there you have it, confessions of a person with OCD. Maybe.

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Jan 17th, 2006, 9:58pm: Oh boy! The Man has his manties in a twist. I confessed that I mentioned him. He protested and said I failed to mention that I leave snot rags all over the place. It's true! *Sob* It's true. He wants me tell you about the time he stepped in a pile of fresh snot rags (I was sick!) And another time, he pried it out of my hands when I fell asleep holding one. In his words, I was "...clutching it for dear life."

There you go, my love, I laid out my imperfections just for you!

Lulu, where you at?

I had to work last Sunday and will have to work the next two coming up. But I don't mind because I get three Fridays off!! It's so nice. Even though I'm working five days, it feels like I'm being naughty and cutting work. I can run errands and it's not nearly as crowded as it is on the weekend. I get to catch up on my favorite weekday shows that I normally don't get to see (Starting Over is getting a little bit much for me but I adore Kelly on Regis & Kelly!)

As I sit in one of them, I decided to write about...

LULU'S FAVORITE PLACES

E-On Cafe. Not only does place hook you up with free high speed wireless connection, but they have delicious lattes and sandwiches. And even when I didn't bring my laptop b/c I brought The Man instead, I still enjoy the place. Although I want it to be successful (it's fairly new) I fear that it will become crazy crowded. But until then, I will trek out in the rain or on a day off and enjoy my local cafe. It's also the place I end up viewing Karaway's oh-so-colorful media clips. Crazy girl :)

Pinkies Nail Salon. YES, I have girlie tendencies! I don't have acrylic nails (I'm not a hater I'm just stating the truth) but I love a good pedicure. And I used to have to shlep my a$s to the city - a good 45 minutes away!- to get a nice pedi. Why? I don't ask for much. I just want my nail salon to be a clean place where I can relax and not worry about getting some crazy foot infection from lack of good hygeine practies. (There was this huge news story in San Jose about nail salons spreading bacteria from their foot spas. Ew.)
Anyhow, this place bring me so much joy. I can't even begin to tell you. Not only do they have massage chairs but the manicurists (well, my favorite two) give BOMB A$S foot massages. For a few more bucks, they will give you a 10-minute foot massage. I indulge in this when I'm super stressed out. Pinkies is super cute, clean, trendy and affordable. I love, love, love this place.

Bean Street Cafe. (OK, this picture and the web link is actually the owners' other coffee shop but I couldn't find a picture of Bean Street. Whatever, it looks similar, dammit.) You are going to think I'm such a hippie but I love to go to this cafe after power yoga. Yah, yah, yah, green tea's great for me, choke full of antioxidants, lowers my blood pressure and ends world hunger. But if I want to be a pleasant person contributing positively to society, my bum desparately needs a latte. The Greek owners are so cute and sweet. My N0-Fun latte (non fat sugar free vanilla latte) is delicious here. Unless they have a newbie worker. Then I have to add a lot of cinnamon and give them three weeks to get better.

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OK, so I seriously thought about including my favorite yarn store but I think people would boycott my blog from boredom. I would have included my hair salon that I've been with for seven years but (1) they don't have a Web site and (2) I love my hair salon most out of all my favorite places. While I don't believe that my blog has any significant power or influence, if I posted about them and then they didn't have the time to book me for hair appointments, I would have to drop kick some a$s. I've been with my hair stylist longer than my boyfriend. Before her, I was a victim of jacked up haircuts and dim-witted hair stylists (For crap's sake, my hair is straight. Yet I've somehow been lucky enough to encounter many a hair flunkies who seem utterly confused by straight hair. WTF?)

I also used to have favorite bars and nightclubs but those days are over. Thus, the yarn store. So, from your Suburban gal, here are a few of my favorite places.

My new favorite scarf

The Alpha Lion, also known as my mom, made me a dope ass scarf. Seriously, it's beautiful.

See, AL made Demondoll a scarf for her birthday and I LOVED it. So AL said if I bought the yarn (she knows I can be particular:) she would make it for me. Since D-Doll lives in the snowy wilderness, she has a thicker version. Because I live in sometimes hot/ sometimes cold Northern California, AL made it dainty.

Check it out:

Look at the detail. Can you believe AL crocheted this scarf??

(Click on the little pictures to get a better look.)

Just so you know, I can't crochet for the life of me. It doesn't soothe me WHAT.SO.EVER. This, of course, makes me in awe of AL's talent and I will proudly show off this scarf. As soon as I have clean laundry to wear that will do it justice. FYI: I'm wearing my velour jumpsuit tomorrow b/c I have slim pickins.

Here is a pic of AL along with my Dad and me (at the same dinner/dance.) Don't you want to hug them 'cuz they're so cute??

Nothing much to report

The eagle has landed (aka Power Week has kicked off) and I'm still eating like a football player. I'm hoping this will end soon.

But to keep you entertained, I do have a couple of pictures of The Man, me (both in Carmel,) and one of us together at a dinner/dance a couple month's back. Why? Well, why not.

I love this picture I took of him. Isn't the background awesome? The ocean is such a gorgeous backdrop.


(We are quite the squinty couple, aren't we? I mean, we are Asian. But still.)

My man in his barong. Goodness, he's so handsome.

(Obviously, I didn't take this picture so I'm not the one who cut off his hair. Nevertheless, he's still adorable.)

"No way! Is that ..."

I finally watched the movie, 40-Year-Old Virgin. Unrated version, to boot. I laughed my ass off (I had also knocked back four glasses of rum & Cherry Diet Pepsi.) I think I'll watch The Office religiously now.

But you know what freaked me out? The last scene where he finally does the deed. "What the f*uck?!" I turn to Maria, "That's my bedspread!" Maria replies, "What?" Pause. "Oh yah! I remember when you bought that." Then I squint and look at the sheets. "Holy $hit! Those are my sheets, too!" "No way," disagrees Maria, "The color is different, isn't it?" "Nope, those are my sheets."

People, my sheets AND bedspread (I only have two sets that I alternate b/c my bed has a pillow top and requires extra-deep fit pocket sheets and King size comforters) are movie stars. NO LIE. My bedspread is made of multi-colored shiny ribbon and fabric. I insist that you pull out your 40-Year-Old Virgin DVD and skip to the end. No, seriously, bust it out.

Now look at my comforter:

See?!
(I'm not using the sheets that are just like the ones in the movie or I'd fold the comforter back.)

THOSE ARE MY SHEETS AND BEDSPREAD!! Well, not mine but the exact style as mine and not common bedding! I'm still taken aback and I'm totally sober now. Humm. My bedding is famous. No autographs, please.

PS: My bedding is from Marshall's. If I bought them anywhere else, it would set me back several hundred dollars. If you also require extra-deep pocket bedding, this is the place! I think my sheets are Egyptial cotton w/ a superhigh thread count. Hey, don't knock the cheap places 'til you try 'em.

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OK, it is now 2:00pm and I realize that I was way too excited to see my bedding in a movie. Oh well, at least you know that I'm easy to please :) And "YAHHHHH!" for not waking up with a headache or a dry heaving episode! I was worried. I mean, I drank plenty of water and took vitamins but sometimes there aren't enough preventative measures in the world to combat a well-deserved hangover.

A few days before my Power Week

I'm bloated, my face is breaking out and I'm eating EVERYTHING like it's going to expire at midnight. TMI? Too damn bad. (I forgot to mention that I'm occasionally irritable.)

I dislike the week before and the first couple beginning days. Why? Because I eat until my belly feels tight and you can thump my tummy like watermelon. I break out like I'm a teenager with pimples that are large and unpopable (gross!) Worse, it's the time when I probably beat myself up the most about my looks, think of things to worry about in my relationship with The Man, get a little more sensitive and, basically, torture myself. But at least I don't have mood swings. (I went through three types of birth control pills until I was able to nip THAT in the bud.)

Anyhoo, other than pre-Power Week, I'm doing pretty well. I'm STILL trying to figure out how to post pictures that are unclickable so that I can post pictures of The Man and me from the New Year and any future pics. So if you know, let me know!

Oh! I finished "knit in the round." For knitting novices like me or knitting virgins ("Why, hellloo there, come here often?") that means knitting in a spiral instead of back and forth, like a typewriter. Typically, people knit with two straight needles. When I first started knitting, I was automatically introduced to bamboo circular needles-my favorite. So here is how it looked in the beginning:
I'm just knitting around and around, no purling necessary b/c knit in the round makes a stockinette stitch.

(If you aren't into knitting, dammit, just pretend you care and entertain me. On a similar note, it's funny to see The Man accept my knitting. Before, I think he was scared I was 26-going-on-70. But then he got smart and realized that this new found hobby leaves the remote control unprotected and up for grabs. Yes, I knit during football games, basketball games, and home improvement shows.)

This is where the $hit gets complicated. Or at least LOOKS complicated. I am now decreasing to make the crown of the hat. I have to introduce the double pointed needles (four=3 holding the stitches to make the triangle and 1 to knit the other 3 with) and remove the circular needles. I was concentrating so I didn't even think about how crazy it looked until I removed the circular needles. For crap's sake, look at it! It looks like three knitters got high and came up with a brilliant idea to knit one hat together.

So this is the inside of the hat. There was no need for a seam. The decrease is pretty fast (the pattern is from Stitch 'n Bitch) and then bam! I pull it together, tie and knit the ends.

When I use girlie colors like this, I like to tell The Man that the piece is for him. Before, I would get this look of terror from him b/c he knows how hard I work and that loving me means wearing the fu*king hat. But he's on to me now and calls my bluff. Darn.

Pretty bleepin' dope, yo.

Because I was freakin' tagged ...

Lists of 7, in no particular order.

7 Things I would love to do before I bite the big one:
1. Win the lotto
2. Parasail
3. Buy a house that I will want to live in until, well, I bite the big one
4. Be able to take care of my family so no one has to worry about finances - my folks, siblings, and any little ones I create
5. Go to Hawaii every year (or, at least, some tropical location)
6. Be in a movie - main stream, NOT XXX
7. Take thousands of vacations with The Man with no fighting :)

7 Things I can't do:
1. Surf
2. Listen to bull$hit for long periods of time
3. Swim fast (I can float and doggy paddle but that's about it)
4. Lose these last 10 lbs!! I didn't want anyone to think I was shallow in putting this in the first list so I'm going to put it here. But GD it, I'm still going to try!
5. Keep useless or deadweight friends (an irony, right?) People like that just suck out all the good energy. They also make me sad and frustrated :(
6. Tie a cherry stem with my tongue
7. Not laugh for an entire day

7 bad habits that I need to get rid of:
1. Impatience (more of a trait than a habit, yah?)
2. Eating late at night
3. Scratch my temple or forehead when I'm frustrated
4. Wanting dessert at the end of a meal
5. The intense need for "closure" - Why? I'm not always going to get it and I definitely will not always like what I hear, right?!
6. Withholding closure when I know it kills them - horrible, ain't I?;)
7. Going to bed too late

7 Favorite T.V shows/ movies of the year:
1. Grey's Anatomy
2. Veronica Mars
3. The Office
4. South Park (I know, old)
5. Sex & the City (ditto)
6. Regis & Kelly - I love Kelly!
7. Britney & Kevin's Chaotic - gotcha ;)

7 Things I say most often:
1. "Seriously?!"
2. "Shut up!"
3. "Foreel?"
4. "Snatch" (snatch fuzz, snatch hole, snatcharoo ... you get the picture)
5. "... or something like that."
6. "Bung hole"
7. "What did you say?!"

7 Things that attract me to The Man:
1. His face (I just want to give him smooches all over!)
2. His dorky humor
3. His humbleness (he only ACTS cocky ;)
4. His kindness and good manners
5. His imperfections (b/c how annoying would it be if he was perfect?!)
6. His morals and ethics
7. His good looks (not a priority, just a bonus!)

7 Randoms:
1. I sometimes make myself sick worrying about my brother
2. I truly like my job but I REALLY want to make more money
3. I really do like to surround myself with positive people because good moods rub off
4. I'm caught between wanting to be known as a kind, cute and angelic gal and an outright sex kitten. Arghhh! So I settle for neither :P
5. Different parts of my body can be very different temperatures. My legs will be lukewarm but my hands will be ice cold. So I stick my hands on The Man's neck for warmth. Hee hee, and I like the reaction. See?? I told you we do stuff like that!
6. I'm thinking about going to my ten year reunion but I'm not sure yet
7. I seriously contemplated getting a perm last year - I claim temporary insanity. Want to give me some happy pills?

If you're reading this and haven't done it yet,
YOU HAVE BEEN TAGGED! (Hey, I'm just spreading the love.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I hope it was a good one for you. The New Year always felt like an anticlimactic holiday to me. I've celebrated in the streets of San Francisco, at parties and just been konked out at home. It's just never the way it looks on TV. This time, though, it was pretty fantastic and I would love to spend future New Years like this, minus the storms.

Let me back up a bit. Remember when I baked drunk and I said The Man and I got into a tiff? Well, I was pretty upset that we were fighting (over something silly) right before Christmas. And I was even more upset that we didn't get to see each other before my most favorite holiday of the year. Not to worry, we made up and everything was squared away. But I think The Man wanted to make up for it and for working this Monday. So he said he would take me away for the New Year, I just had to pick where. Well, I wanted to be surprised but I have high speed at work so I did some research.

I picked two places that were close enough - the Half Moon Bay Ritz Carlton and The Sonoma Inn & Spa. I printed out package descriptions and prices. Some were very unreasonable like $950/night but I like to hear his reaction. The Man and I like to do that - do things just to get reactions from each other. So I printed out several package pages per hotel. It was worth it. That night, I gave him the the package information and went to the kitchen to bake. As I was mixing my cookie dough, I heard, "What the ...?! Woman! What the heck do you think I'm made of?!" I got a good laugh.

The Man is a great man. He's also a procrastinator. I had no idea what we were doing until Friday afternoon when he called me. (He had booked the place during his lunch break.) We were going to Carmel. My first time there! I packed and met him at his place. We drove through a pretty nasty storm. Before I drove out to see him, The Man told me I could look up where we were staying, The Carmel Valley Ranch, on the internet but I told him I wanted to be surprised. On our way there, he told me that this place was a bed & breakfast, formally a farm house. He said that there were wild turkey and deer on the premises. The Man also told me that he had booked the "Milking room" package. That's right, folks, I would be learning how to milk a cow.

The Man and I also play a game that we haven't titled but I call it, "Bull$hit." Usually, he's the one to tell the tale and I'm the one to determine if it's for real or bull$hit. At this point, I had no idea. But he swore to me that there really were wild turkey where we were staying. F*ck.

No need to worry, we drove up to this:

Oh yahhh! I was so happy. And relieved. All the rooms are suites and he booked us a corner suite. Ours had a living room area, two fireplaces and a king-sized bed. We had a private deck that wrapped around the suite. Unfortunately, we were having a mini-monsoon so we couldn't really enjoy the deck ... what is up with my vacations and freakin' storms? But oh my goodness, it was beautiful!

(Click on the picture if you want to see our suite. They definitely made it much more glamorous than the real deal but it was still very nice.)

All the storms - oh yes, there was more than one - made it nearly impossible for us to enjoy the hiking, tennis and outdoor stuff the hotel and Carmel had to offer. We did, however, have about a half a day's worth of semi-sunny weather. And by golly, The Man swore it to be true and it was. We saw wild turkey on the hotel property! Look at what else we saw:

(According to The Man, these birds are California Quail. And look, four deer! Sorry, no pics of wild turkey.)

We went on the 17 Mile Drive from Monterey back to Carmel. It rained on and off but we saw some beautiful scenery. Of course, we had to take pictures! I won't inundate you and your computer so here's the best one from our drive -

Pookie shouted me out. Yes, I was asleep by 10:30pm! But I wouldn't have spend New Year's Eve any other way. Despite the crazy storms (Sonoma officials evacuated everyone this weekend! Glad we didn't stay there,) this was probably the best New Year I've had. And, on a side note, this is the FIRST vacation The Man and I have taken (by ourselves) where we haven't fought. We always joke and say, "We fight in the most exotic locations." Maui, Lake Tahoe, Capitola, Santa Cruz ... we're pretty gifted. In any case, these fights are usually big whoppers and just plain ugly. Normally, I don't divulge relationship information but no fighting on this trip is HUGE! And it's a cause for celebration because, let me tell you, we just tackled a huge hurdle in our relationship. This trip, in so many ways, was a wonderful way to kick start my 2006!

Meet a new member of the family

I apologize, I should have introduced you sooner. She has been living with me since my birthday last month. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to ...

Big Martha.

The Man gave me Big Martha because I needed a fridge. Before her, I used a crusty fridge in the garage that I inherited from the tenants before me. A few days prior to my birthday, The Man asked me, "Lulu, how do you feel about me buying you a fridge for a birthday present?" Admittedly, my initial reaction wasn't the most appreciative. I mean, a fridge doesn't smack of romance. But after a few seconds, I realized, "Hell yah I want a fridge!" Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to go to the garage anytime you need ingredients like milk or eggs? Not to mention that a new fridge is a major dent to Lulu's savings!

We went to a local appliance store and were helped by a very nice sales lady. She showed us Big Martha first but we wanted to look around some more. After roaming around for nearly an hour (and realizing that The Man has a fondness for GINORMOUS refrigerators) we concluded that Big Martha was "the one."

Now, you may remember my disdain for any women's nickname starting with, "Big." And, in all fairness, she isn't even that big. But in my tiny kitchen, she is the ruler. It's no longer the kitchen, it's the fridge room. For crap's sake, look at her. She biiiig!

(Phone conversation with The Man after the delivery of Big Martha -
Me: "Hey babe, the fridge came. I thought you did the measurements."
The Man: "I did! Doesn't the fridge fit? Is it blocking the doorway?"
Me: "She fits and no, she doesn't block the doorway. But she sticks out about seven inches from the counter."
The Man: "What? I thought it would stick out four inches, max."
Me: "Well, yes, but you still have to take in account the grill in the back and that it needs to be an inch from the wall. That's about 7 inches."
The Man: "Oh yahhhh." Pause. "But don't you like it?"
Me: "Yes! I love her! She's just. So. Big.")

Here is Big Martha waving to you.

(Up until last Friday, she was pretty bare, like this. The Man kept teasing me that I didn't want to dirty Big Martha with food.)

After coming to terms that she has comandeered the kitchen, Big Martha and I are getting along just fine. She fits right in with the household and has been nothing but a joy.

And that, my friends, is the story of how Big Martha became a part of my family.

Now, you must bow down before the all mighty Big Martha!

Funny moment #4

I once made the mistake of playing an "inappropriate" (I mean, it really is subjective) game with coworkers. See, you go through the alphabet trying to find a word matching the letter you get that is, well, colorful. It can be a couple of words or a phrase, too. As long as it starts with your letter. You should try it sometime. "Q" and "Z" are pretty tricky. Just make sure that the people you ask to participate in the game aren't frigid or prissy.

Tonight, I'm in the car with some friends and we decide to play this game. Two of the guys talk about crazy $hit all the time so we knew they would be fun. The third guy, David, is more reserved and a bit shy but he goes along with it. Maria and I invented this game so you know that we're OK. I start.

"A$shole." Not so bad, right?

Maria says, "Bunghole." Even milder.

"C*nt" says Tom. OK, well, I told you it's colorful.

David thinks about it. His face brightens and he blurts out,
"Deep throat protein blast!"

*Now, I'm no innocent small town girl but have you EVER heard of that???? And if you don't know what he meant, I'm sorry. I cannot help you.

Lulu's first hat

Hope y'all had a great Christmas! Mine was pretty swell. I hung out with Sister, WGD, The Boy and my parents. We went to a very fun Christmas Eve party at our Aunt & Uncle's, complete with carolers! Granted, a few of them had thick Filipino accents - OK, just the loud one - but it added charm to the festivities. (Sit back and just imagine: "We wish you a Merrrrry Chrishmash, we wish you a Merrrrry Chrishmash, we wish you a Merrrry Chrishmash... and a Haffy New Yearrrrr!" Or, "Pah-leez Nabeedahd, Pah-leez Nabeedahd, Pah-leez Nabeedahd, FrosFero año y Peeleeceedud.") But seriously, I loved them, it was spectacular caroling, and I never felt more in the holiday spirit. And ethnic. In a good way.

We saw my brother on Christmas day and had a nice and intimate family day. The day after we took the dreaded family picture (I won't even go into it. Except to say what my sister said, "We asked for a photographer who knew how to deal with special needs people and it looks like they gave us a photographer with special needs." She was a dumb a$s. Teaches me to go within ten feet of Southland Mall.) But over all, it was a lovely Christmas.

And guess what?? I learned how to knit a beenie! D-Doll was my spotter for my first attempt, cheering me on (and sometimes, troubleshooting my "how did she do that?" mistakes.) Now I can knit hats! You may not find it a big deal but I've been knitting rectangles for damn near a year. I'm pretty sure that I'll be content knitting hats and scarves for another year. I'm much less ambitious than my kick-a$s-sweater-knitting sister. (I think she will blog about it soon.)

Sooo, *drum roll please* here is Lulu's first hat! Ahh-sukie-sukie now.










(Yes, I'm aware it looks like it's from Fat Albert.)

A sexy drunk baker

Well, self-proclaimed but nevertheless!

FYI: Blogging drunk is a dangerous thing.

This evening I baked coconut crunch cookies aka Piggy's Crack Cookies (thanks D-Doll!) But I have to call them "coconut crunch cookies" because I work in an environment with small children. And while I would love to sell our kids and families "crack cookies," I think they might wig out.

Some background: Tomorrow, my work is having a bake sale and I decided to go back to a hobby I haven't done in years! In fact, since I lived with Ms Lips. I spent about 45 minutes at Albertson's buying ingredients and trying to find that damn baking powder (yes, "baking powder". Recipe also calls for baking soda.)

Anyhoo, The Man and I are having a tiff (I know, I know! Never write about your significant other unless you want the $hit to hit the fan so that's all I'm going to say.) I came up with a brilliant (that's right, "brilliant!") idea that while I'm baking, why not have a glass of red wine? Well, I think my first glass actually equaled two and now I'm on my second aka third or fourth. F*ck, I don't know.

Don't worry, I prepared the cookie dough before I got tossed. Plus, to put me in a better mood, I'm currently watching, "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation." Dammit, Chevy Chase is f*cking funny. Word.

So anyway, back to the cookies. They are quite delicious. It has coconut and Nestle Crunch (Krunch?) candy. Albertson's only had big bars so guess what I got to do!? I used The Man's work bench in the garage, took a hammer to these sonsuvabitches, and made me some Crunch bits. Anyway, I've baked nearly a 100 cookies. And they are damn delicious. I would take a picture of them but they kinda look crappy. (D-Doll, is that just how they look or did I do something wrong?)

All right my lovely peeps. I'm going to watch my funny a$$ movie and sober up. Mele Kalikimaka, bitches. (No, you aren't a bitch. I just like to cuss when I'm drunk. Seriously. Let's hang out sometime and you'll see. I'm totally friendly and happy-go-lucky but I like me some cuss words.)

Hawaii - My last two days

Well, after the mini monsoon and embarrassing fake hit-and-run, a gal's gotta unwind. So yes, we sought out a spa. We went to Abhasa which happens to be in the hotel with our fantastic outdoor bar. Pretty, pretty. We both agreed that the massages were absolutely amazing. But be warned, they end abruptly. Unlike my massage in Las Vegas, my little Asian lady (who was small but packed quite a punch) did not soothingly put the stones away when she was done. *Klunk, klunk* The stones sounded like they were being hurled into the bowl. Short of slamming the door, my little Asian lady booked out of the room and it was over. But the massage itself was much needed and appreciated.

Before this vacation, I thought Oahu was "just OK." It reminded me too much of Vegas and I preferred the slower pace of Maui. Little did I know, just rent a car! Maria and I escaped the city fuss and went to the JW Marriott Ihilani Resort at Ko'Olina. It's about a 1/2 hour drive from Waikiki. Since this resort is out in the middle of nowhere, they did all sorts of things to make the place interesting (you can just click on the link for more info.) What I liked about it and what is not on the Web site - or I just didn't read thoroughly - is that there are five manmade lagoons. So instead of one long strip of beach, there are five different areas for people to lounge, softer waves for kids and, best of all, public access!

(This isn't one of the lagoons. It's a really pretty place on the Ihilani resort. They often use it for wedding pictures. Unfortunately, it's a little tricky to walk here so the brides have a hard ass time getting to this spot. But, from what I hear, it's pretty funny to watch.)

Although we were suppose to rent the umbrella space, the beach wasn't crowded at all so we just used one for free. It felt like a private and secluded beach and the resort had people patrolling so it's safe, too. My friend and I hung out for almost four hours, sunbathing, reading and close enough to the hotel to use their posh bathroom. I'm all about being near nice restrooms.


Maria and I thought it would be so cute if we took pictures in Hawaii, came back to the mainland and made postcards. Yahhhh. It didn't really work out. And yes, those are alcoholic beverages in our hand.

Mele Kalikimaka!

I had a SPECTACULAR time in Hawaii. With a heavy heart, I boarded my plane on Thursday and was back in the very chilly Bay Area by 9:00 pm that night. Luckily, I learned my lesson from previous vacations and took the next day off. So I had three days to readjust to my daily routine. Both the vacation and the vacation from my vacation saved my sanity. By Monday, I was ready to face the real world.

Hawaii - Day Three

The Day of our Hit-and-Run.

But first -

Picture it, Oahu, December 6th, 2005. Two tan and lovely California girls (well, one made in America by Philippine materials) are set loose in Waikiki ...

My friend and I have been eating like little piglets. For example, here is my most FAVORITE pie in the whole wide world. You can get it at Duke's:
(It's got a dark chocolate crunchy crust, macadamia nut ice cream, rich fudge sauce, macadamia nuts and whipped cream. Girrrrrls, I told you I can eat!)

We feel especially guilty because we usually go to our Yoga Challenge class 2x a week. We decide to do something tourist-y but healthy. We wake up at 6:30am (progress, my friends!) get ready and start our hike up Diamond Head at 7:30am.
(Here's Diamond Head from Waikiki beach)It takes about 45 minutes. We are a little bit sweaty and dusty but are rewarded with some awesome views:


We feel great! We feel like we've accomplished something no one has done before. (Never mind the huge Japanese tour group we passed as well as the couple with the baby and the elderly gentleman.) We are damn triatheletes! How do we celebrate?

We go shopping at Walmart. Yes, it's a horrible monopoly that exploits its workers but there is no Target on the island (I KNOW! And to think this is supposed to be a tropical paradise!) We go buck wild in the Aloha section and buy all our souvenirs and stuff for ourselves. "What a steal!" we say. Armed with bags of goodies to bring back to the mainland, we cheerfully walk back to our car. We load the trunk, slam it shut and I'm about to get into the passenger seat when I hear Maria say, "Ummm, Lulu, can you come here for a minute?" I start walking back to the trunk while she's asking, "Do you remember this being here?"
F*ck, f*ck and FUCK. (Now, you know I usually tone my cursing down on my blog but, let's face it, we are F*CKED.)
Remember, this is a rental car, we are in a different state and we had no idea who hit our car. I'm racking my brain, trying to remember if this dent was already there but, to my dismay, I think I would have noticed it. Maria asks, "What should we do? Should we report it or tell them when we turn it in?" Knowing how bad rental places screw you to your face with taxes and additional fees, I did not want to be royally screwed in any way for this so I say we should report it.

Heaven bless the people at the Honolulu Walmart - the security are kind folk but can you believe none of them knew the non-emergency number to the Honolulu Police Department?? After 15 minutes of futzing around (remember, we are CA girls so we like things done fast,) Maria calls 411 on her cell phone and we get the number ourselves. A half an hour later, the police arrive. We've got Walmart security AND the Honolulu Police doing separate reports. Maria is calling her insurance b/c the rental car is under her name and I'm talking to the rental car agency filing a report with them.
We are now well into our second hour of dealing with this hit-and-run fiasco. I'm pretty proud of ourselves because we could have been totally girlie and cried because who KNOWS what will happen to our insurance, this is supposed to be a relaxing vacation and really, this situation just bites. The cops are very nice, helping us get phone numbers and their dispatcher is making some calls to help this go faster. The nice woman cop, while initially stern looking, is quite friendly and lived in Santa Clara, CA for a while. I'm making conversation with the man cop, asking him about his tazer. [Side note: There was a lot of time being on hold or waiting for someone to finish a phone call to answer a question on another. So I ask man cop about his tazer and he says that Honolulu police are in the process of making tazers stronger. I tell him about the scandal here in the Bay Area because people are dying from them. I then ask how could Honolulu want to make them stronger? He eyeballs me and says, "The people here are a lot bigger. The tazer feels like a bee sting and if anything, makes them even more angry." Good point.] Woman cop is inspecting the dent for a third time, bending low and flashing her light. She tells man cop to take a look again and says, "Hey, do you see these circles?"
(Maybe you know what's coming but just read anyway.)
Maria and I innocently look over their shoulders and wonder about this new development. Woman cop asks, "Ladies, did you do a walk through with your rental agency?" Come to think of it, we didn't. And since this is the second car I've rented, I never questioned this. Maria shrugs her shoulders. Man cop walks to the car and asks his dispatcher to connect him to our rental agency. Woman cop kindly explains, "Well, see these clear circle stickers?" We nod. "A lot of rental agencies don't fix a car if it's just cosmetic damage. They do put these stickers, though, so they know what damage already exists." Our jaws drop. Shut the f*ck up ... did this really exist? Man cop gets off his CB radio. "Yup, the agency just confirmed that this dent was already there."

We are MODED. We are so incredibly moded we don't know what to do with ourselves. Are your cheeks red from reading this? Because what you are feeling is sympathetic modedness. F*ck, we are moded.

Maria looks at me with shame. We both look at the cops with shame. They are so nice and joke with us that they are hungry and late for lunch. We apologize profusely, just freakin' ashamed of ourselves. They tell us to have a good vacation as they drive off and we climb into our Focus. Maria says, "I'm so glad that you take partial fault for this because I feel so dumb!" and I tell her that I am as much to blame because I went along and agreed with her that we had been hit. We then have to call her insurance and the car rental agency.

We are hungry but even more so, moded. We agree that we cannot talk anymore about this until we have had a drink. We park poor Focus and walk to the Royal Hawaiian outdoor bar and proceed to get drunk. We then laugh our asses off because this trip just seems plagued with drama! But on the upside, we are so happy that we will not be punished by Hertz or our insurance agencies. We lay out on the beach and soak up some rays. And while we are STILL moded, we are in a beautiful place and, thanks be, liquored up to numb our embarrassment.

Be kind, people! I just shared with you a huge "dumb a$$" moment and am feeling quite vulnerable. And don't even pretend you haven't had one yourself! Obviously, I feel defensive, too. If I start categories, I will file this under "Super moded."