Happiest place on earth?

+ =
Traffic + Huge Disneyland Crowd = A Peeved Lulu*

OK, so I went to Disneyland this weekend. I've already chatted with my local Disneyland expert, Tater Pie, and she is aware that if I am to go back to Disneyland, I'm going to need the following -

1. A driver. Or a plane ticket. It was an eight hour road trip. Eight hours. (We made a pitstop in Fresno.) Sure, I wasn't driving. But I was trying to keep the Man company because he was so sleepy from a hard week's work and he already drives 2+ hours on his daily commute. We didn't get to our hotel until 2:00am. I woke up at 6:00am. Maybe I need to take a day off so it's a three-day weekend but I don't have the time off so I have to squish it in 2 1/2 days.

2. Less people. I knew I didn't deal well with crowds. This just confirmed my suspicion. It is very very crowded in Mickey's hood and that just isn't my scene. That's why I don't shop during the Christmas rush. Tater assured me that it will be less buck wild in November. I couldn't move freely, there were people everywhere. And, of course, that meant a variety of people with a variety of thoughts regarding personal space. Some need very little. I am not one of those people.

3. Strollers. I'm not hating on families or little folk. But I hate - let me emphasize HATE - the people who charge at me with their strollers, nip my heels with their strollers, or basically use it as a defensive device. I don't want to play football, I just want to walk peacefully, man.

P'tater assured me that my next trip will be a lot of fun. I hope so. Or I might have to push some people down in the happiest place on earth. Just kidding. Maybe. I'm looking forward to going in November. I think it will be really cool to go right before the holiday season. Does anyone know when Disneyland puts up their Christmas decorations?


*Isn't that the cutest angry pup you've ever seen?!

Thank you, Demondoll & Kim ...

... I love me some survey forwards.
I don't really like them.

And now you do, too! I know you don't really, either.

To quote Dave Chapelle who quoted Rick James (with a slight alteration), "I'm Lulu, Bitches - Enjoy yo'self!"
I don't really think you're a bitch, I just like to say it.

Four jobs I have had in my life:
1. ALICE 97.3 Sarah & Vinnie Morning Show Intern
2. Bare Escentuals make up artist/ sales associate
3. Burlington Coat Factory Sales Associate (exactly ten years ago!)
4. ABC7 Television Production Assistant

Four movies I'd watch over and over (or have watched over and over):
1. 50 First Dates
2. My Big Fat Greek Wedding
3. 10 Things I Hate About You
4. Ocean's Eleven

Four places I have lived:
1. San Franciso, CA
2. Hayward, CA
3. Daly City, CA
4. (That's it, there's no 4th! Does Treasure Island count? It's kind of part of SF, kind of not.)

Four TV shows I love to watch:
1. Grey's Anatomy
2. The Office
3. So You Think You Can Dance (Guilty pleasure!)
4. 24 (just got hooked this summer)

Four places I have been on vacation:
1. Oahu
2. Maui
3. Phillippines
4. Germany

Four of my favorite foods:
1. See's milk chocolate truffles
2. Sushi
3. Sashimi
4. Shanghai lumpia

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. Santa Cruz
2. Waikiki
3. Bicol
4. Any big Las Vegas hotel spa

Four friends whom I have tagged that I think will respond:
1. Miss Lips
2. Pookie
3.Taters
4. yer mama

How I met the Man

Back in 2001, my old roommate had been dating a boy named Arniel. I ended up getting him a job and we started to hang out after work. He would bring along his roommate/best friend, Lorena. We all partied hard together and had lots of fun.
They both belonged to a service organization and Arniel asked if I would narrate a documentary he made for them. Lorena's parents were having a party to celebrate the money and in-kind donations the organization raised to bring to the Philippines. I was invited because of my participation in the documentary. I had attended another party that same day (it was at Tel and Sassy's!) and I found it hard to tear myself away ... there was wine and cheese, for crap's sake! But I felt like I should go to the other one so I did. I brought my friend, Regina, with the intention of only staying an hour and making my way back to Treasure Island.
I drove us across town to Lake Merced. The party at Lorena's ended up to be an intimate gathering. Dammit, no way to slip out without notice! There were about six people there, sitting around the table. Regina sat down at the table, looking at me, silently begging me to bring her back to the other party. I stood next to Arniel and Lorena's as they introduced me to everyone. I met Lorena's mom and dad, a family friend named Gus and Lorena's other best friend, The Man.
Regina and I snacked a little, watched the documentary, and asked about trip preparations to the Philippines. True to my word, after an hour, I told them we had another party to attend (I left out that it was the same party we just came from) so Regina and I had to leave. We wished them a safe trip and they all said good bye. I was excited to get back to the drinking festivities back on Treasure Island.
As we headed back, Regina asked, "What did you think of the guy next to me?"
"The Man?" I replied. "What about him?"
"Don't you think he's cute? I think he's very cute!" Regina exclaimed. "You should find out about him! You know I'm not particularly attracted to Asian guys but he's cute!"
"I guess so. But I think he's gay." (Yes, I actually said and believe it.)
"What?!" Regina blurted. "I don't think so! Why would you think that?"
"I don't know! He's so handsome he's almost ... pretty. He looks very put-together. No straight guy could care that much about his appearance. Besides, what straight guy wears a snug sweater?" (It's true.)
Regina replied, "I think you're wrong!"
"Fine, I'll call Arniel. He'll tell me." I said.
I dialed his cell. "Hey! Are you still at the party? Good. Are you near The Man? Well, walk away from him then. Hey, is he gay?"

Pause.

"He's not? Are you sure?"

Pause.

"Oh. No, no. I just assumed is all. Thanks!"
"Well, what's the verdict?" Regina asked.
"Mmm, you were right. He's straight. But you have to admit, he was very pretty!"
"Whatever, you should go for him. He's cute." she insisted.
"Mmm-hmm."

It would be three more months before I would run into The Man again.

I received permission from The Man to write this entry. And before anyone thinks I was off my rocker, more (gay and straight) men than women commented about my new boyfriend's good looks. I suspect he may be the pretty one in this relationship!

I know, I've been a very bad girl

I hate it when y'all don't blog. It ticks me off because I'm reading the same stuff. I wonder, "What's going on? No one is too busy to blog! I mean, just a few lines, for crap's sake! Give me something to read! Criminy."
Now I done did it to you!
Well, I'm tired.
It's the week of my 7:30am - 6:00pm shift and I'm pooped.
This past weekend, I attended a bridal shower retreat. My friend is pretty awesome. (She's the one who picked a dress that was under a $100 and a something I can wear again.) Maria decided she didn't want a conventional bridal shower or an expensive spa treat [sidenote: I am A-OK with a spa retreat, believe you me. But since this wedding is in Hawaii, I appreciate not having to spend money.] We went to her mom's cabin in Sonora, drank, swam in a swimming hole (my first time!), drank, swam in a lake, drank, sat in the hot tub, went fishing, drank, and ate a lot of food. And drank.
OK, I actually didn't get drunk. I just sipped a little bit all weekend to sustain a nice buzz. With the heat and the hot tub, it was pretty easy to do. Because now that I'm in my late 20s, it is unacceptable to yak. It's just bad form. I mean, we all need to learn from our early 20s, right?
Now I'm tired and this work week is lasting F-O-R-E-V-E-R. And it's only Tuesday. Hot damn.

Random thoughts while driving to work

Break-ups.
Rest assure, Jon-Jon and I are just dandy. Here, let me quickly give you my train of thought. "What to write about. Exs. No, exs are such a negative subject and, personally, a waste of time. The Man. I'll write about how we met. Oooh, that's good. But wait, what about that time between the ex and The Man? Shoot, I will never forget how much break-ups hurt."
So there you have it. Break-ups.
I remember being the breaker-upper. Sure, I was the one who got to call the shot and sort of prep for the situation. But it still sucks. If you're an overall good person, you don't want to be the asshole. And that's what you are when you're the breaker-upper. Doesn't matter if you didn't cheat. Doesn't matter if it's because you need to focus on something else (and when is it ever really that?) It doesn't matter what wonderful rationale you may have in your pocket. You're still the asshole.
I remember wanting to do it for a while but being chicken. And I remember the moment where I just broke. That's the only word I can think to describe it. He had flaked on meeting me and my friend in the city because he was sick and he had wanted me to end the night with my friend right then and there, go home, and take care of him. I remember not feeling a twinge of sympathy but feeling very frustrated and exasperated. I remember him saying, "Do you want to break up with me or something?" just to be dramatic. But, to his surprise, I answered and said yes.
I also remember being the brokee (you know what I mean.) Well, I was cheated on so "same smell, different taste." I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't breathe. I wish I could say I was exaggerating, that I took it a lot better than most, that I was one bad ass mo'fo. But I would be lying. I was a freakin' wreck. I could not stop crying. What's funny is I wasn't even in love at this point. I just felt betrayed. I think what freaked me out is that I had no control and that person's love seemed like one of the few sure things in my life.
I smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish. I would take advantage of happy hours during the week. I went out every weekend because I couldn't stand being by myself. I talked to anyone who would listen about how big of an asshole he was. I was hurt, I was angry. I was scared to death that no one would love me again. At least, as much as he did and he obviously didn't love me as much as we both thought he did.
It took a while. I think it took at last six months before I could sleep through the night. Eventually, I was OK with being home on a Saturday night and just watching TV. I knew when I was no longer sad and bitter that I was OK with being a single woman. That I liked being a single woman. Because it was far better than being with someone who was all wrong for me. And then one day, and I wish I could remember the exact day, I was actually able to say that I am HAPPY. My life is good. I have a marvelous family, fantastic friends and a truly good life. (Sure, I bawled my eyes out watching "In Style: Celebrity Weddings" but who doesn't? I didn't even want to get married!) Despite that, I was a happy young woman. I was in my mid-20s, ready to kick some ass and take some names.
Then, some months later, I met The Man. But that's another entry.

Captain Save-a ...

Bunny.

What did you think it would be?
My Man, Jon-Jon, is THE Man. But you knew that already. He has a heart of gold.
When he was living with two roommates last year, one of them got the bright idea that he would take after his uncle and raise bunnies. For food. Never mind that Mark had never ever raised animals with the end result of making them a meal. Or that he lived in a suburban neighborhood. Or that he just sucks big balls for wanting to mate bunnies to end up slaughtering. Yah, I said it. (And that's not even why I think he sucks. But you'll soon understand.) For whatever reason, Mark wanted to raise two bunnies and turn them into fifty. Or something like that.
Their other roommate, Mario, was indifferent to the whole idea. He is also related to the uncle that raises bunnies (he's Mark's cousin) but didn't give two hoots what Mark did. Anyway, Jon-Jon had no idea that this hairbrain idea was cookin' in Mark's head until, one day, there were two bunnies in their backyard, like so -


"Awwww." Of course, how could I not think that as soon as I saw them? Well, they don't like people. They scurried away as soon as they smelled, heard, or saw you. I admired the bunnies from afar.
They didn't have a cage, they just roamed free like some dog named Sparky. They ate the grass but since Mario wasn't much of a gardener (it's his house,) it was fine. Weeks went by and they just lived in the backyard. Then Jon-Jon would repeatedly tell me that he would come home and see their water bottles empty and no food in their dish. Soon, he was feeding them. Then they ran out of food. Then Jon-Jon was buying their food and treats.
One night, probably after six months went by, we were on the phone and I started laughing, "Baby, you are a bunny owner!"
"No I'm not!" He exlaimed. This is a man who loves dogs and, to this day, tries to convince me that we should own a german shepard because surely I will think they are cuddly. I'm still not convinced.
"My love," I said, "no matter how prissy you may think it sounds, it's true. You are a bunny owner."
Fast forward to the beginning of this month. The bunnies have been there for nearly a year. Jon-Jon moves out. But he still picks up his bills from his old place. And for the past two weeks, he's dropped by and picked up his mail. Out of habit, he checked on the bunnies. They didn't have food or water.
It's been 100+ degrees lately.
I was beside myself when he told me. I wanted to kick Mark in the nuts on behalf of the bunnies. Of course, Jon-Jon filled their water bottles and gave them food. But he can't visit every couple of days and the bunnies need to be fed and given water almost every day. Then last Saturday, he told me that he had to wash his hands clean of the bunnies. He said we can't worry about them anymore b/c we just can't.
I felt like a criminal b/c I knew animal cruelty was happening. Look, you may think I'm twisted but I can't throw stones at anyone that wants to eat bunnies. I eat cow, pig, chicken and fish. But I canNOT deal with starving an animal and letting them die such a horrible slow death. For crap's sake! Not only does that make you a royal prick but everyone knows a starved animal does NOT TASTE GOOD. I know, NOT the point. But still. You have to admit.
I called the Humane Society. Then I realized that if Animal Control came, Mario and Mike would think Jon-Jon, the bunny whisperer, narked and be pissed. So I didn't make a report. But I did ask the operator about a bunny's health and she said that there is no way they would survive in this kind of heat w/o water or food. Right. How could they?
I then begged Jon-Jon to ask Mario (b/c Mark sucks SO BAD he is hardly home and Mario has been the one sort of taking care of them) if we could have the bunnies. "Please! Just lie and say we want them! We'll take them to the SPCA." No tears but after much begging, he relented and called Mario. Mario told him OF COURSE we can have the bunnies. Whooohooo!
The End. A Happily-Ever-After, if you will.
Well, not quite. After work today, Jon-Jon went to Mario's house and helped him catch the semi-wild bunnies. They make no sounds but they scratched up Jon-Jon plenty to show that they do not like to be handled. Once captured, Jon-Jon and Mario regrouped. I don't know what transpired but the bunnies are now on their way to the Uncle's farm. Jon-Jon said they will get fattened up and, um, go to that big crockpot in the sky.
Hey, I tried. And at least on the farm, it's the Uncle's livelihood to raise animals for food so he knows better than to let them run out of food or water. Because that's MEAN. And just bad business for him.
OK, so the story isn't exactly warm and fuzzy or have a happy ending. But Jon-Jon did take them out of a terrible environment. The bunnies are going to be reunited with their brothers and sisters on the farm. And, well, eventually go to bunny heaven.

It's too damn hot to knit

But if I can manage to do so, I'm going to knit accessories that I can rock but won't make me perspire.

With that said, I give you ....

THE PURSE:
This is my first attempt at making a purse, my second time felting (for you non-knitters, "felting" means washing/drying the yarn project so it shrinks and the stitches are no longer visible.)

I like it a lot. I think it's because the handles are pretty bad ass. I also like it because there's no lining. Lulu don't do no sewing.

In case you can't picture it working with an outfit, here you go:

Just because I like this picture ...

Victoria, Canada
2005

A trip down memory lane

Last Friday, The Man and I had dinner with my old roomie, MsLips, and Rog. ML and I were roommates back in 2000. How we were put together was a bit like The Real World ... we were four strangers that were thrown together by our university to live in a townhouse on Treasure Island. ML and I only lived together for five months (she graduated mid-school year) but we ended up friends and are still friends six years later.
Our Significant Others (The Man and Rog) were not our Significant Others six years ago. But we're all connected. Let's see if you can follow:
When ML and I were roommates, we threw a Christmas party. You get a few crashers. Like Neil who was brought by someone who got an invite. ML ended up dating Neil. When ML moved back to Southern California, she made sure Neil and I became friends because 1) I ended up getting him a job and 2) it was a good way for her to keep tabs on him (not in a jealous girlfriend way, more of a smart girlfriend way.) Neil and I started to hang out and party a lot. Neil also partied with his best friend, Lorena. By default, I partied with Lorena. A lot. Lorena had another best friend. It was The Man. I met The Man when we celebrated one of Lorena's birthdays. And that's how it all started for us :)
But what about Rog? OK. I met him back in 1997. He was The Ex's roomie. Also, when I became a single gal, I was footloose and fancy free. I had quite a few party cliques. Rog and his girlfriend at that time were one of them. I used to joke and say they were my new boyfriend and took them everywhere with me. One of those parties I dragged them to was ML's birthday party at a club when she came to the Bay Area for a visit. ML's party was also The Man and my first date.
A good long time after ML's birthday party and after inevitable break ups, ML and Rog started dating. And they have been dating for around three years now.
So did I lose you?
It was nice to see ML and Rog last week. I had so much history with everyone at the table. I met Rog when I was 18 years old. I met ML when I was transitioning from being a college kid with a boyfriend to a single grown woman (cue "Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman.") And I met The Man when it was time for me to meet my true love four years ago. So there you have it!
We were all going down memory lane and, now looking back, it's so funny how good all of us were about editing anything having to do with ex's. See, we were ALL with different people way back when. So we naturally omitted them whenever we reminsced about a good story. Like when Rog and I were first learning how to snowboard and we both got so pissed about how pathetic we were and tired from falling on our duffs, we busted out cigarettes halfway down the mountain and just smoked away our stress. And cursed. A lot.
It was fun to remember our history together. I partied hard with these people :) I bonded with these people. They know me at different stages of my life. ML and I, in those short five months, confided in each other, went through our very last semester in college together, cooked together and took smoke breaks together ;) What's funny is we actually became closer when she moved back to Southern California.
We haven't been so great about keeping in touch the past couple of years. Boyfriends, new jobs, school and life, in general, does that sometimes. So it was really nice to be able to have dinner with old friends and take a trip down memory lane.
Of course, you can only go so far when you realize how memories like being with the wrong people (which is why they are "ex's") make you want to bust a bitch* and be very happy to be in the present!

*I sincerely hope you know that means make a U-turn. B/c that could have been quite a pornographic reference if you thought otherwise.

He's he-ere ...

(To be fair, that bike is mine. But that's it.)

Taco Hell

I enjoyh Taco Bell. My favorite entree is the Nachos Bellgrande with guacamole, hold the beans.

Today, I was a good little coworker and went on a Taco Bell run for my colleagues. This particular po'dunk Taco Bell didn't have a drive thru so I had the pleasure of walking in and soaking up the ambience. It was typical Taco Bell environment - questionable cleanliness. Waited a couple of minutes in line and then finally put in an order. (I would totally shout out the location but there are a bunch on El Camino Real ... so just beware!)

The cashier had a hacking cough. It was pretty bad but he was polite enough to at least cough in his sleeve. But it was pretty bad. A few things were running through my mind. "Well, he's not preparing the food. He just touched my cash and receipt." As well as, "It's not my food." (Horrible, right? I do have a conscience, though. I would have gone somewhere else if he was the preparer.)

After I ordered, I waited off to the side, wondering if anyone would say anything about his really bad cough. No one did, including me, I admit. His coughing grew worse, becoming more frequent and I saw his eyes were watering. Finally, after ringing up a few more people, he motioned for one of the food preparers to take his place and he walked to the back of the employee area.

I shouldn't have watched him but I couldn't help myself.

I get a clear view of him spitting into a big trash can in the back. It was a cross between spitting and vomiting. I wanted to look away but I didn't. He just kept spitting up. Again, I looked around to see if anyone else saw him. No one else saw. He finally finished and he grabbed a papertowel to wipe his mouth and hands. Oops, nope. He wasn't done yet. He spat up some more. I waited to see if he washed his hands. But all I saw was him wiping his mouth and his hands with a papertowel.

Before I could see if he would go back to the register, my coworkers' food was ready. I totally lost my appetite at that point.

OK, so he didn't touch the food. But still. The hacking, the spitting up and then the seeming absence of hand washing.

UGH.

Are you wondering if I told my coworkers? I did. I wasn't as detailed but I told them because I felt obligated. I did stress, though, that he didn't touch their food. Naturally, they were a little grossed out. But they still ate their bean burritos and ultimate chalupa.

Why you shouldn't date a chickenhead

Sassy, please click here for clarification.

My week

It wasn't the worst.

But it wasn't good.

Here's what put my panties in a twist:
1. Stupid people. They make my job harder and cost me a nice bonus. They make me want to buy a steel toe stiletto and stick it up their hoo-hahs.
2. Food. I eat like it's going to get up and run away.
3. Change. It's great but it causes a lot of stress in the beginning.
4. Power Week. Because every gal loves to be bloated.

Here's why I can still smile:
1. Good coworkers. They remind me that not all people are stupid.
2. Working out. I feel like I'm gaining some control b/c I'm making a real effort to have a healthy lifestyle.
3. The Man. We both had a bad work week but he still makes me laugh. A lot.
4. No More Power Week. All humankind should be thankful for that one. I was ready to start whoopin' some as$.

It's that time of year again!

Well, not really. But I need something to look forward to and get me through tough days.

In case you didn't know, I've been working 7:30am - 6:00pm for the past seven work days. And three times this week, I've worked out from 5:30am to 6:30am. Did I mention that I haven't lost any weight and, in fact, gained? That's always fun and encouraging.

Anyway, guess what I booked this week? MY TRIP TO HAWAII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm trying my damndest to make this an annual tradition.

One of my closest friends is getting married in October and I'm in the wedding. I finally took the time to book our tickets to Hawaii. I'll be there for seven days and The Man will be there for four. It's his first time visiting Oahu (he's been to The Big Island and Maui) and I want to take him to all the places that I've been able to see - the Polynesian Culture Center, the Ihilani Resort, Diamond Head, and of course, Waikiki beach but that's a given because we're staying there. Any other suggestions?

I am so excited. I don't know how I'm going to afford it. I took a fat pay cut with the plan that I will earn it back two fold in a year or so. *Rocking back and forth, sucking my thumb.* I really really really hope that will be the case! Anyhow ...

Bought the tickets, reserved a room at a three-star hotel and Mama Lu is on her way!

Almost makes up for the five pounds I've made friends with and now won't go away.

The Man is a-movin' in

The Man brought over some of his shi.. stuff today.

I thought I could handle it with a smile. I thought I would be a nice person. After all, I want him to move in.

But it was hot. And I had just vaccuumed earlier. And his boxes were heavy and dusty. And there were more than I expected.

Thankfully, The Man has a good sense of humor. And was in a good mood. He saw my stink-eye and pretended not to notice. Then when it got stinkier, he exclaimed with only a hint of sarcasm, "Somebody needs a hug!" And gave me a big ol' dust-filled hug.

It's only just some of his stuff. He still has his clothes. And furniture.

So we put a little over here ...








And here ...









And then some of it in the garage ...








And I've been promised that there's plenty more to come.

Let's evalaute: I'm the youngest of three but I've had my own room since I was a toddler. I shared a room for two years in college and learned to share a teeny tiny space with a stranger.

But it appears I've unlearned all of that when I moved into a house by myself.

It will be OK. I know it will be OK. The Man's great, he's been a part-time roommate and we're just readjusting. (Are you thinking about the bathrooms and the dishes? Because I am.) No seriously, I know it's going to be so much fun and a great turning point in our relationship. I think I'm just a little out of sorts seeing not-my-stuff strewn around the house.

One of the bonuses to his stuff moving in on my (soon-to-be "our") territory is that I have a nice stereo surround sound system for my TV.










Well, it's actually his TV. But now it's "ours" right?

Sweet.

Is Britney the new Whitney?

I know, why should I give a hoot? But I do. I read People magazine and am shamelessly up on current celebrity events.

I caught the Britney/Matt Lauer interview and thought, "What the hell happened?" I don't mean the weight gain because that's no biggie. (Remember how cute Britney was with her sausage curls when she was pregnant the first time?) But oh man.

Pregnant and former pregnant ladies: I thought you weren't supposed to color your hair with a bun in the oven. Am I mistaken? The Brit-Brit was so ... frosty. I miss her dark hair with blonde highlights. There she was, completely bleach blond. With thick kohl eyeliner and frosty pastel eyeshadow. And the short skirt. And platform shoes. And the push up bra paired with a too low shirt. I was taken aback.

Three years ago, she was on top of the world. She was beautiful, had a killer figure and could do no wrong. She could dance, sing (I think) and was just an awesome entertainer. Admittedly, I was envious because how unfair is it that she had a beautiful face, a perfect body, was funny and filthy rich? But no matter what, the girl can make a good dance song. So I like her. Especially when she and Justin broke up. She laid low and gave me a chance to miss her and her catchy jive music.

Now ... she's still super duper rich but she smacks of the Whitney/Bobbi syndrome. I know I don't have to explain myself. Just think about it. Except, of course, Bobbi had a little bit of money and a shred of talent.

I hope she make a comeback. But it ain't looking good :(

"I rock rough and stuff with my afro puffs ...

... rock on, wit cha bad self."

OK, so I didn't have an afro. But I did rock the permed hair.

You didn't believe me, did you?

It's that time ... my ten year reunion. Even though I'm not the first in my blog family to talk about this, it's still a tough choice.

Reunion, or not to reunion?

I know I'm echoing the same sentiments of most people when I say that if I would have wanted to keep in touch with my classmates, I would have done it. And I kept in touch with less than a handful. But I'm curious to see how we all ended up.

I came from a school that was in a middle- to low-income area. There were many bright kids but we just didn't have the resources to make us flourish or to help the kids that had potential but just didn't know it. (Do not MAKE me get into the whole California High School Exit Exam. Well crap, it's my blog so I will say this. It is true that it is a bias exam and many low income kids do not have a chance to pass it because, for the most part, they are receiving a mediocre education. Granted, you aren't doing them any favors by letting them skate by. However, if they made it to senior year, then they have a fighting chance. But you cannot give all youth the same exam - many are ESL or just haven't received the best education possible. To expect them to regurgitate every subject they learned from ninth grade is ridiculous. Universities don't even ask that of its students! I would put money on it that the schools in wealthy areas are taking the time to prep their students for this exam while the kids in poorer areas are expected to fend for themselves. OK, I'm getting off my soapbox now.)

I hope my classmates have succeeded. I hope they are happy with their lives and making a positive impact in their communities. I just don't know if I want to see or hear them talking about themselves. Yes, a person can change a lot in ten years. But if I found them annoying back then, is there any chance we will have changed so much that we'll get along like the best of buds? Maybe. But not likely.

I may go if we have a casual event (I hear it's going to be at Dave & Busters) where I can blend in a public place and duck out without anyone noticing. But if it's at hotel and a black tie affair, I'm going to pass.

Like my perm? I bet my hair was crispier than a KFC drumstick.

Life change

The Man is going to move out of his place because his roommate's fiancee wife is moving in. So The Man will be moving in with me at the end of August this month.

"SAY WHAT?"

Oh no, don't get me wrong, it's good news. I love The Man. I'm open to sharing my personal space with him. We just didn't expect it to be so soon.

He's concerned about my parents - he doesn't want to piss them off. I told him that I would be ticked off if he rented an apartment, kicking down $1,000, just because of that. It's sweet, actually. He respects my parents and wants them to see him in the best possible light. They are reserved, with very old-fashioned values, and don't want their baby living in sin. After all, I am a virgin (shut up, I hear you laughing.)

Then something popped into my head and I started to worry. Since I tell him darn near everything, I knew I could be honest with him. I told him to please not pop the big question before he moves in.

"WHAT THE F- DID SHE JUST WRITE?"

Before you think Lulu done lost her mind, hear me out. I didn't want a proposal just to prevent my parents from being upset. I want to be asked because of love, not fear. If he asked me before he moved in, all I would think is that it's only because of my parents and my reaction to a question like that would probably not be the ideal.

So that's that.

The Man is moving in. Heaven help us, between my bathroom phobia, his muddy work boots and my hatred for the snooze button, we are in for quite an adventure. But I'm looking forward to it.

You best believe that I'm keeping my three (two clothing and one shoe) closets, though.

My trip summed up in one entry

I promised I would write more about my vacation when I had pictures. Come to find out, there isn't much more! Oh well. I've borrowed some from the internet to aid in illustration.
Why was this my best vacation to the Philippines? Well, there are a few factors. First, I've learned what to expect. For instance, after three visits, I knew that there might be some bucket showers, "different" toilet facilities and potentially lots of 'skeeters. And there's that teeny tiny fact that a few of my relatives may call me fat. Let's steer away for a minute about how that can really ruin a trip.
I have ranted and raved to my mom about how being called fat is mean, hurtful and just plain rude. She knows and has actually defended me when I've been so floored by an insult that I forgot to reply. No, it wasn't all of my relatives, maybe four or five at most (I have a LOT of relatives so that's barely any.) But it only takes one insult to negate the 10 compliments you received prior. And even though my mom defends me, she has tried to persuade me that it's a cultural difference, and that to my relatives in PI, it isn't an insult, just a comment. Like saying, "You have a booger in your nose." Well, sad to say (or not), I'm Americanized. It. Is. Not. The. Same. It was such a relief to not have to deal with that crap from anyone this time around.

Another plus was that, for the most part, our living accommodations were nice. We had a couple of sketchy places but overall the places we stayed in, especially my cousins, were very comfortable. And guess what? Barely any mosquitos. Thanks be! While I don't recommend this resort for overnight trips, it is a great place to go for a day trip:

Dhio Endheka Resort

I also spoke up to my mom prior to this vacation and let her know that I wanted to do fun stuff. In- and outdoors. Maybe it's because I've held steadfast about not visiting for five years but my mom heard me. That's probably why I got to go swimming with whale sharks, hiking, parasailing, island-hopping, sailboating and stay at a resort island.
You may wonder why I would have to tell my mom this. After all, I said I was pushing 30, right? If you're Filipino, you can skip this paragraph. If you're not, here's the answer: I am at the mercy of my mom and dad when I go to the Philippines. They speak the language, they are the closest to our relatives, they know the country. I wouldn't even know how to book a hotel or plane ticket while in the Philippines. Scratch that. I do but I wouldn't know how to do it without getting ripped off. It would also be a lot harder to know what kind of tourist-y activities were available. And worthwhile. Not to mention, when in the Philippines, you are with your family all the live long day. This place is the epitome of the word, "family." I was with them the entire time. That means sleeping in the same room, sharing a bathroom, and basically going everywhere together. My parents were my roommates for a week and a half. (The only reason it wasn't for all two weeks is because I spend four days with The Man.) Remember when I addressed this very subject? HA! Not a chance. Sure, the hotel rooms are inexpensive. But then I would be the spoiled American cousin! How's that? Well, when I stayed at my cousin's house, she put the three of us in one room. Even though there were seven bedrooms, she put us in one. And it made perfect sense. It was the only other bedroom with air-conditioning. In that sweltering heat, I was more than happy to share with my parents. Maybe it's because I don't live with them anymore but we didn't kill each other! In fact, other than my dad giving me his cold, we all got along just fine. When we stayed at a resort, the three of us stayed in one room again. Why? Because my cousins and their kids, all sixteen of them, shared two rooms with no air-conditioning. How could I dare ask to be in my own room? No, my relatives aren't poor but they couldn't see wasting money on additional rooms when eight to a room was snug but doable?
So, besides doing outdoor stuff, I got to do all the pampering I wanted. It was Spa Heaven for me! Whether it be right or wrong, the American dollar goes very far in the Philippines. In two weeks, I had one hot stone massage, three regular massages, three spa manicures and pedicures, my hair trimmed, and permed my eyelashes. In addition, I paid for my mom's two massages, her facial and a mani/pedi for Mother's Day. All of these treatments, collectively, cost about $200. Seriously. For instance, when I got my lashes permed at a posh salon, it cost $6. And y'all know how much I love pedicures/manicures. I had them 2x a week!
The best part of my trip was that I got to know my cousins, nieces and nephews a lot better. I adore them! Sure, I talk about the few tactless ones but overall I have really wonderful relatives. Family that are selfless - they made sure that someone picked us at the airport (several times), secured our accommodations, helped us with transportation, negotiated our trips for us, and checked in on us almost daily after work. A lot of them bent over backwards helping us plan our trips and making sure we had a good time. My cousins showed me around, made sure that I got to see the shopping areas, parks, hang outs and dance clubs. Since most of my cousins are in their late 30s/early 40s, I know they were only doing the latter because they thought I would enjoy it :)
Five years is a long time to not visit. Many of my nieces and nephews have grown up so fast. I saw my relatives and I realized how important it was for me to stay connected to my dad's family. While many of them are doing well for themselves, almost all of them aren't able to come to the U.S. If I don't make the effort to stay connected, it won't happen. I respect that some people don't want to go to the Philippines. It can be rough and one hellish experience just like any other vacation. But I've been blessed to have a wonderful time. There's talk about a reunion next year. If so, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Me with my nieces (and one baby nephew held by my cousin.)

I believe in fairies

A married couple in their early 60s were out celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary in a quiet, romantic little restaurant. Suddenly, a tiny yet beautiful fairy appeared on their table and said,

"For being such an exemplary married couple and for being faithful to each other for all this time, I will grant you each a wish."

"Oh, I want to travel around the world with my darling husband" said the wife.

The fairy waved her magic wand and - poof! - two tickets for the Queen Mary II luxury liner appeared in her hands.

Then it was the husband's turn. He thought for a moment and said, "Well, this is all very romantic, but an opportunity like this will never come again. I'm sorry my love, but my wish is to have a wife 30 years younger than me."

The wife and the fairy were deeply disappointed, but a wish is a wish... So the fairy waved her magic wand and - poof! - the husband became 92 years old.

The moral of the story:

Men who are ungrateful bastards should remember that fairies are female.

Forgive my negligence

I arrived home last Friday around 11pm and could not sleep for two days - I was up for 48 hours. (Props to Tater for taping Grey's Anatomy, Desperate Housewives and Lost. Gave me something to do to pass the time.) Finally, I slept 12 hours on Monday. Unfortunately, I woke up 2am today and have been awake since.

Jeg lag is a bitch.

I had a blast with my family in the Philippines. This was the best vacation I've had there so far. (It probably helped that no one called me fat. In fact, they said I looked like I lost weight. Don't think it's really true, though - I am five years older and I think my face just lost some baby fat.) I was able to do a lot of fun stuff, hang out with my very cool cousins, nieces and nephews, and actually relax.

Here are some pictures until I get it together and am able to write a decent entry:









These pictures were taken on the resort island of Boracay. This is when I love 35mm film more than digital pics. Sometimes digital is too clear. Had these pictures been taken with a digital camera, you would see the beads of perspiration on all of us. Boracay was BY FAR hotter than any of the other places I visited while in the Philippines. Hot damn, seriously.

OK, now THIS is the coolest thing I've done so far

I got to snorkel in the ocean above this ...



A whale shark! Never heard of it? Neither had I! I actually saw three different ones, the biggest was as large as an SUV.

It was really, really cool.

Hot, hot, hot!!

I've stolen some precious moments on my cousin's computer so I won't have to go to an internet cafe.

Obviously, I'm hot. No seriously, I'm burning up. I've had to wear summer dresses (they are actually called "dusters" and equivelant to "muumuus." But if it causes me not to sweat like a freakin' pig, I'm going to wear it.) No make up, no hair do ... it's actually quite freeing.

If I weren't so freakin' hot.

Some of the "resorts" and "hotels" have been questionable. Ants and overall cleanliness have been some issues. By far, my favorite place to stay is at my cousin's. She has a showerhead, air conditioning and an internet connection. Her house is better than some resorts. Yes sister, I've had to take some bucket showers.

The coolest thing I've done so far ... I went exercising with my cousin 5:00 this morning. I can't help it - even though I go to bed late, I still wake up really early. In any case, I'm glad b/c I need to exercise! Nothing but fried food the past few days and I can't be possibly sweating it off.

Anyhow, my cousin is a POWERHOUSE. She walks this hill every day and I asked if I could join her. So today, we walked/hiked up this hill (no, not the volcano, the hill in front of it.)

OK, so in comparison to Mt. Mayon, one of the wonders of the world, this hill doesn't look impressive. But believe me, in the heat and humidity which is there even at 5:00am(!!!) it's a doozie. Lignon Hill is steep and a popular hiking trail. Once at the top (which you can't see in this picture) you get a beautiful view of Mt. Mayon, the city, and the ocean. It's beautiful ... I saw the sun rise and a city wake up. I kid you not ... I think I heard every rooster crow. Instead of dogs barking, it sounded like every house had a rooster. It was a trip.

The best part of the hike was going down. Not just for the obvious reason, though! On the way down, my cousin stopped at a makeshift stand and asked me if I wanted buko (coconut) juice. Standing in our New Balance sneakers, we waited as the elderly lady took her bolo knife (it looks like a machete) and hacked two coconuts until there was a flat service with a tiny hole. She stuck straws in the holes and gave them to us. How cool is that? Instead of drinking boring old Gatorade, I was drinking buko juice straight from a coconut.

OK, got to go. My three nephews are being so patient by not swarming me around the computer but I can tell it's getting to them.

I'm leaving on a jet plane ...

Well, The Man left first. I took him to the airport last night.

I leave this weekend. I have my work cut out for me before I go. On top of my 8 to 5 work, of course.

Haven't packed. Check.

Haven't finished cleaning my house before I go on vacation. Check.

Haven't run all my errands. Check.

Oh yahhhhhhh.

I'm not too worried, though. Despite all my unfinished business, the anxiety of meeting The Man's extended family or whatever wonderful comments some of my tactless relatives may have for me, I'm excited to go to see my extended family. I'm thrilled to be going to a resort and try out snorkeling, cave exploring, and hopefully, parasailing!


The motherland may be a third world country but hey, look at what it has to offer ...

I thought I was an original ...

... the only one.

Who the F is this???

http://www.lizadawn.com/

Well, at least she's keeping up with the namesake and allegedly one funky mama.

Yes, this is a result of googling my own name. I was bored. And I wanted to check to make sure I wasn't being slandered. Or in some weird fetish porn site.

Friday is my favorite day

I am SO tired. My new job - pretty cool. My new hours - not so hot.

There are different functions so members of my team rotate each week. This week, I worked 7:30am - 6:00pm. Throw in the fact that I'm brand spankin' new and training my little tail off. I am spent. I can't believe I'm actually thinking this but I am very excited to be working at 8:00am next week.

Anyhow, when The Man sleeps over, I've conditioned myself to be able to spleep through his alarm and him pressing the snooze button several times. At 4:40am. That is not a typo.

Now that my wake up time is close to his, his alarm wakes me up.

4:40am alarm+Lulu=Bad a$s attitude!

( D-Doll & Lulu. She's included b/c she can rock the same bad a$s attitude:)

Completely off topic, I'm thinking about changing The Man's nickname to "G-Unit." I like the oppressive implications to "The Man" :) But he's sooo the opposite of ghetto that I like the irony of G-Unit. Plus, I'm delirious with exhaustion.

Why I love romantic comedies

I do ... it's true. I love romantic comedies. Most likely, if you're my friend, you want to knock me upside the head because they are sappy movies and you are sarcastic. And slightly bitchy. Which is probably why I adore you.

I can watch 50 First Dates, My Big Fat Creek Wedding and the Wedding Singer over and over again. Those kind of movies remind me what it's first like to fall in love. The heart going pitter-patter, the bumbling awkward moments, the late night calls because you just want to know everything there is to know about the person. And then some. I love the crazy things in movies that characters in love do for one another because you love the person that much. One of my favorite goofiest scenes? When Heath Ledger sings and runs around a high school stadium, accompanied by a marching band, to woo Julia Stiles in 10 Things I Hate About You. That kind of stuff melts my heart. Control yourself. I know you want to bitch slap me for being so corny. I can't help it.

I know that being in love is the best. I mean, I can't deny that things change and people get comfortable. I can't deny I'm comfortable too. Past-midnight calls don't amuse me like they once did - I get up way too early for that. I also don't go to the farthest bathroom humanly possible like I did when we first started dating. The jig is up - he knows I poop. So I can't really complain when he shows just how comfortable he's become, too. Because, despite all the hard times, nothing beats someone knowing which side is YOUR side of the bed. Or someone knowing you so well that, just by looking at your face, he knows you need a big fat hug and some major cuddling.

Some people may have the best of both worlds - being in a long-term relationship and the lovey-dovey stuff that usually only occurs in the "honeymoon stage." If you're one of those people, though, don't even think about commenting on my blog to tell me that.

I wouldn't trade what I have for the "newness" part of a relationship. But you gotta love the goofy songs Adam Sandler sings to Drew Barrymore. In both movies.

Speaking of mistaken ethnic identity ...

At my new job, I work with someone who graduated from the same university. He was also a big part of the Filipino organization that I briefly interacted with when I participated in its Pilipino Culture Night aka PCN.

Yes, California is so packed full of Filipinos that we have clubs at almost every college and university. A "PCN" is a huge yearly event when the club showcases traditional and modern dances, cha-cha, and some acting. You don't have to be Filipino to participate but most are, by default. Almost every club has a PCN. Scary, ain't it? ;)

Of course, we exchange names to see who we both know. Never mind that there are over 28,000 students. We stick to the Filipino organization people b/c we figure we would have a better chance. Surprisingly, or not so if you're Filipino, we knew a few of the same people.
Later in the day, my coworker (we'll call him PB for "Pinoy Boy") says to me fron his desk, "Guess who I just talked to on the phone?"
"Who?"
"Bing. Do you remember him?"
"The one with the hair?" Gesturing as if I have a big afro. PB nods to confirm my guess. "I loved his big hair!" I did. I didn't know an Asian guy could have a stick straight afro. But he did. I was always impressed when I saw it.
"I'm going to call him back and see if he remembers you!" says PB.
"Mmm, maybe not. But you can try."
I hear PB on the phone, "Hey. I have a new coworker who used to go to State. Do you know a girl named Lulu?"
Listens.
"Well, she was in a PCN a couple years back. You know, Lulu." insists PB.
Now I'm just thinking, Bing has no idea who PB is talking about.
PB smiles, "Yup! That's her! OK, well, I'll call you later. Bye!"
He turns to me and says, "He remember you! He paused when I said your name. Then Bing asked, "Is she the one that's Filipino but doesn't look it?" and I said, "Yes!""

I had told PB earlier that day that when I auditioned for PCN, I didn't know a soul because I wasn't active in the Filipino club. Of course, everyone else knew each other. But after a few months, I got to know some people.
After one of our rehearsals, a guy asked me, "So, what made you decide to join PCN?"
I replied, "I was in a PCN at my old college and I wanted to be in one here before I graduated."
Guy then said, "Oh that's cool. Are you also active in La Raza?"
Me, with a blank expression, "Huh?"
Guy, looking a little confused, "Aren't you Mexican?"
Me, now thinking he's special, "If I was Mexican, why would I join a Filipino cultural event?"
Guy now a little indignant, "I thought you just appreciated other cultures."

I guess that could have been true :)

Filipino reference of the day #2

(This was actually a few days ago but it's new to you, right?)

I was listening to my favorite morning show, Fernando in the Morning. Dat Phan, a Vietnamese comedian, was on the show to promote his comedy tour. A lot of his jokes are Asian-oriented (Hehehe. I said "Asian" and "Orient" in the same sentence. I've just been kicked out of the club.) The two DJs, Fernando and Greg, asked Dat why some Asian ethnicities seem favored over others. They gave an example of when they asked one of their Asian coworkers if he was Korean and the guy yelled, "I'm Chinese, not Korean!" Fernando said, "It was like we called him a horrible name or something." Dat Phan responded that it has a lot to do with people always grouping Asian cultures together and not bothering to know the difference.

Greg asked, "What about Filipinos? They don't look like other Asians."

Fernando said, "Yah, they look like a little bit of this and a little bit of that."

Dat replied, "They're like Asian curry. A whole lot of different things, a whole lot of different spices."

Greg agreed, "Yes, and they're very delicious, too."

I have to agree - The Man is quite delicious:)

For the second year in a row, Lulu has won the title of ...

BOMB A$S GIRLFRIEND.

*cheer, cheer, clap, clap*

Thank you so much *fluttering of the hands* ... I want to thank everyone, especially The Man, for enduring three years of good and crap gifts from me. This includes the build-a-bear kung-fu fighting teddybear that said "I love you" which seemed like a really cute and sweet idea at first ...

You may have remembered last year's birthday present to the Man which is why I say "three years of good and crap gifts ..." I think I got it right into our fourth year together. And I believe that I did a pret-ty fine job for our four year anniversary. As you know from reading my little blog, I do enjoy the wine. The Man, unfortunately, does not share the same love and affection that I do (my Texas Cousin and Sister may remember the incident from my graduation party. We won't delve into it.) But my honey does like himself the sauce. He gets a kick out of microbreweries and trying new and different beers. Yes folks, I got him:

A MEMBERSHIP TO THE BEER OF THE MONTH CLUB!

Ahhh-yahhhh.

And because The Man IS The Man, he gave me a great gift as well. Unfortunately, The Man has been swamped with work. He barely has any free time lately. When he does, he's either kung-fu-ing or sleeping. I was sad that we weren't doing anything spectacular for our anniversary but we are both going to the Philippines and need to save. Anyway, despite doing everything on the fly, we had a great day. We went to Capitola and strolled for a little bit. Lucky for us, no rain! We ate at a so-so restaurant. We forgot that we didn't care much for it the first time we ate there. But our waitress did tell us where we could find a spa.

Earlier that morning, The Man was looking into mudbaths online but I had to set him straight on the fact that Lulu doesn't like mud all up in her crevices. Now, most of you know about spas. It's best to book ahead because they will most likely be all booked up especially on the weekends. I didn't want to get my hopes up just to be let down. We drove south to Aptos, checked out Sanctuary Day Spa and, hurray! They had an opening for a deep tissue massage at 3:30pm. The Man did not want to get a couples massage. Especially from a dude. I told him as long as I got the pretty girl, it was fine. He still declined. But he said he would pay for my massage-his gift to me-and roam around. It was 2:00pm and we ended up killing time at a nearyby cafe, Full of Beans. (BTW - The Man and I decided we would open two shops. Mine would be "Full of Shitzu" and his would be "Just for the Halibut." We think too much sometimes.)

Sanctuary Day Spa is a cute little spa. What I loved is that they had a Relaxation Room where you could chill before and after you have a massage. Nothing irks me more than a place that calls itself a "spa" but doesn't have a locker room or a room to relax in before and after your massage. Those places should be called "spa-ish" so right away you know the difference. I digress. My massage therapist was named Dea. She was a pixie lookin' girl and, while adorable, I was skeptical that this gal packed a punch. I was sooooo happy to be proved wrong. In fact, I had to tell her to ease up a little. Dea gave me a 60 minute aromatherapy deep tissue massage and it was so nice! I told her my shoulder was hurting me (I think from knitting and my new job but I didn't want to look like a dork so I just told her it was from my new job) and she worked on it for quite a while. It was the first time someone worked on my derriere but it was through a sheet so I figured I wasn't being assaulted.

I don't know if it was the aromatherapy or her massage but it was the first time that I fell asleep. I've dozed off before but never fell asleep. Luckily, it was towards the end so I was awake to enjoy most of it. But I was SO relaxed that I konked out. Know how I knew I was knocked out? I woke up to a big ass SNORE. From me. Now, I don't snore. But I know for a fact that it was one of those deep snores, from the throat. And since I don't snore, the sound actually woke up up! I apologized profusely but Dea didn't care. She just said that it was good b/c I was obviously relaxed. I couldn't hang out at the relaxation room afterwards (something I usually love to do to bask in the afterglow of a good massage) because The Man was waiting for me. I smelled like lavendar and was a happy gal.

We ended our visit at a very pretty restaurant called Shadowbrook in Capitola. It was such a yummy meal! The service was excellent. (I'm always wary of places that don't have a lot of minorities working or frequenting the place. Hey, call it a hang up for being brown but I can't help it. Plus, we looked casual so I wasn't sure how it was going to go.) The Man ordered lobster & steak and I had a salad b/c he said I could have some of his lobster. We also ordered baked brie and jalepeno mint jelly as an appetizer. Hot damn that was good! Of course, a meal isn't a meal without a delicious dessert. We had the Jack Daniel's Mud Pie. Oh yum.

Pookie, you have to tell P-hubby that The Man was thinking about him/you both. He said a couple of times, "We have to them here when they come visit. Then we can take them to Capitola or Santa Cruz. I think they would like it a lot." Isn't that cute? He was thinking of you guys during our special outing. Wait, is that normal? Does P-Hub think of The Man when you guys have a romantic dinner? Don't answer that. I'll just choose to continue thinking that it's sweet :)

And that was the end of our anniversary celebration. Well, I thought it would be romantic to take the scenic way home, Hwy 1. Three hours later, we were home :) (OK, not the brightest of choices but whatever. Bite me.)

I just realized that I have to apologize ...

for being so GD boring lately! :(

Knitting projects and such

I still knit even though I'm bone tired. My newest project is a scarf with not one but THREE cables.

Before this scarf, I have never cabled a damn day in my life. Here it is:

(Click a picture to make bigger.)

Needless to say, there were a lot of colorful words coming out of my mouth when I started this project.

AL's getting this for Mother's Day and you best believe she's going to like it.

Excuse the attitude ... I'm just so dang tired.

I am t-i-r-e-d.

Hello, my lovelies ...

I am one tired chick. I can't believe it's only Tuesday. Coming to work before 8:00am has proven to be quite a challenge.

I've been training, shadowing and working on my own. I get off work around 5:30pm.

Over all, though, I like my new job.

But dammit. I'm tired.

10 random thoughts

1. DAMMIT! Grey's Anatomy is a rerun.
2. I'm a little nervous about starting my new job tomorrow.
3. I'm trying to psych myself up that I start work at 8:00am (I thought it was 8:30am. That 1/2 hour makes a difference in my world.)
4. The Man just reminded me that I blurted, "Bust a nut!" out of nowhere when he was driving. I asked him, "Isn't it synonymous with "Bust a U-turn?"" He said no. Whatever. We should all start using it in that context and it will eventually come around.
5. Is it normal for my shoulder to ache from knitting?
6. I wish I lost those 10 lbs already.
7. I wish I didn't like chocolate as much as I do.
8. I like most babies and kids but I can't stand the bratty ones.
9. Now that I wrote that, I fear my kids will be bratty.
10. I left Target today b/c I couldn't stand the screaming children. They made me nervous and irritated.

Take this job and ...

Last night was my Going Away party. My friend, who's also in charge of work events, asked me what kind of going away party I wanted. I asked for a small, intimate party at a very cute restaurant called Lure (it's four months old and looks straight out of Sex and the City. So if you're in the Peninsula, stop by, it's fabulous! OK, that was my plug.)

My party was a dutch event and I was A-OK with it. See, here's the thing. A lot of people have their going away party either at Chevy's or Red Robin. I'd rather have a dutch event at a nice place then have the j-o-b pay for everyone and their mama to eat at a mediocre restaurant. I'm not a snob but I wanted my party to be at a place that was pretty. Why? I want a place to have a nice enough atmosphere that I enjoy it when I come in stone sober and come out drunk as a skunk.

That's right, bitches, I got drunk. I had a glass of wine at another restaurant (before Lure opened.) Once at Lure, I proceeded to have another glass of wine and two glasses of a champagne mix concoction. Luckily, I ate the asian crackers they had out as well as dessert. Because Lulu loves her some dessert.

It was a WONDERFUL going away party. I was faded, laughing it up, and having a grand ol' time. Our waiter, a cool mister named Michael, asked me what I was going to be doing at my new job. I said, "Staffing Manager." He looks puzzled. My friend Maria, a little tossed herself, said "She sells people." So I went with it and told him that I was a pimp. In his proper voice, he said "Great, then I'll be your ho." When my soon-to-be-ex-boss arrived a few minutes after us, Michael introduced himself. "Good evening. I understand that this party is for her," pointed to me, "she is my pimp and I'm her ho." My boss was stunned that this could come from such a refined gentleman. She turned to me, "What did you do to him? You've only been here for 10 minutes or so!" And that's pretty much how the night went.

I have the BEST ex-coworkers. Normally, I don't list what I get as presents on my blog b/c I feel like I'm bragging. But dammit, my friends did a great job!
- The company gave me a gift certificate for a deluxe spa pedicure and manicure at my favorite nail salon, Pinkies. And guess who happens to have an appointment today at 1:30pm for that exact package? (Again, the result of having a friend who's in charge of also buying company gifts!) It was a present to myself that I booked earlier this week but now it's on the j-o-b. Sweet.
- My two closest friends gave me a $100 gift certificate to Ann Taylor. They both know that I will most likely go broke ass buying new clothes. Aren't they very thoughtful and generous? They also happen to be the culprits who introduced me to this oh-so-lovely store. But I'm not placing blame ;) I love them so much!
- And then another coworker went to my favorite knitting store, Nine Rubies, and bought a beautiful needle case that I've been coveting every time I go into the store but is way too pricey for me to justify.
- The j-o-b also extended my free gym membership for another year. I was VERY excited to hear that b/c there was no way that I was going to be able to pay $63/month.

I loved my going away party. And by the time it was over, I was in no condition to drive. Tod, a former coworker himself (and also one of the people that I drank with on Tuesday) was nice enough to drive Maria and me to her house. We stopped by a coffee shop with the hope that it would sober me up. It didn't. Tod dropped us off and Maria and I barged into her home to the dismay of her boyfriend. Poor Maria's honey. Around 10:00pm, he had to help Maria (b/c I was STILL in no condition to drive) get her car AND my car back to their place. They let me crash on their couch. Today, I woke up at 4:50am and drove my butt home.

Thanks to lots of water the night before and three Advil before sleeping, MamaLu's head doesn't hurt. I go into work this morning to tie up loose ends, get my mani/pedi, knit a little bit and then go to another going away party. At Red Robin. I think I won't tempt fate and opt for Diet Coke*.


*The Shampoo Drinking Theory: It is believed that there is still enough alcohol in your system the next day that if you drink again, it is a lot easier to get drunk again and that you do not need nearly as much alcohol as the first time. Just like when you shampoo your hair the first time versus the second time. You don't need nearly as much shampoo the second time to work up a good lather.
I THINK I came up with this theory but, then again, someone may have told me this when I was drunk and I plum forgot.

CDC Warning

The Center for Disease Control has issued a warning about a new virulent strain of sexually transmitted disease. The disease is contracted through dangerous and high-risk behavior. It is called Gonorrhea-Lectim and pronounced "gonna re-elect him." Many victims contracted it in 2004, after having been screwed for the past four years. Cognitive characteristics of individuals infected include: anti-social personality disorders, delusions of grandeur with messianic overtones, extreme cognitive dissonance, inability to incorporate new information, pronounced xenophobia and paranoia, inability to accept responsibility for own actions, cowardice masked by misplaced bravado, uncontrolled facial smirking, ignorance of geography and history, tendencies toward evangelical theocracy, categorical all-or-nothing behavior. Naturalists and epidemiologists are amazed at how this destructive disease originated only a few years ago from a Bush found in Texas.

Why parents drink

The boss of a big company needed to call one of his employees about an urgent problem with one of the main computers, dialed the employee's home phone number and was greeted with a child's whisper.
"Hello."
"Is your daddy home?" he asked.
"Yes," whispered the small voice.
"May I talk with him?"
The child whispered, "No."
Surprised, and wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, "Is your Mommy there?"
"Yes."
"May I talk with her?"
Again the small voice whispered, "No."
Hoping there was somebody with whom he could leave a message, the boss asked, "Is anybody else there?"
"Yes," whispered the child, "a policeman."
Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, "May I speak with the policeman?"
"No, he's busy", whispered the child.
"Busy doing what?"
"Talking to Daddy and Mommy and the Fireman," came the whispered answer.
Growing concerned and even worried as he heard what sounded like a helicopter through the earpiece on the phone the boss asked, "What is that noise?"
"A hello-copper" answered the whispering voice.
"What is going on there?" asked the boss, now truly alarmed.
In an awed whispering voice the child answered, "The search team just landed the hello-copper."
Alarmed, concerned, and even more then just a little frustrated the boss asked, "What are they searching for?"
Still whispering, the young voice replied along with a muffled giggle: "ME."

"Pack yo' $hit!"

I was going to write an entry about how nifty my office looked before I packed it up. I was going to post before and after pictures to illustrate how bare my office looks now.

But I plum forgot and now it's just "after." Since seeing "after" pictures really isn't all that interesting, here are pictures of all my office crap now at home:

I'm changing jobs and I can't move all this "decor" to my new job b/c I'm going to have a cubicle. I'm OK with that. But I'm not OK with all this stuff being at home. Decorating my office and decorating my home are two different things.

That's right folks. The picture to the left is a bamboo curtain of hula dancers. (I've turned it sideways for your convenience.) When I started my job, I couldn't commit to a big as$ framed poster so I thought this was better. It was VERY cool at work (It was! I assure you. Ask Demondoll or Tel, they've seen it.) It made my office a lot brighter and more colorful.

I've learned "kitsch-y" can be pulled off at work as long as there's a theme. Mine was "Hawaiian hula." I had pictures of men and women performing hula and Hawaiian stuff here and there. Now I have no idea where I'm going to put it all.

Also, I bought these frou-frou pillows (in blue, pink and green) because it worked in my office. They matched the fabrics from India I had covering my sterile cabinet and table top. Now these pillows don't make any sense-they are more accessories that don't fit in my home. I've ALREADY bought pictures for the home, neutral pillows for my couch and didn't think to purchase any kind of bamboo curtain because, well, do you need a reason?

But I have a bamboo curtain now.

Well, I like all my stuff enough to not want to sell it or give it away. And after talking to The Man, it appears that most of my office stuff will go into my new home office - also known as "the room with a small desk and nothing else." It was supposed to be my Yoga room. Or The Man's kung fu room. No matter that we haven't done either in that room for the past six months. Now it's where my office crap is put to pasture.