¡Soy La Unicá Que No Es Una Puta!

What a long strange trip it's been...

Went down to LA for a long weekend to visit Jonathan. Arrived in LA about an hour late due to Southwest's general incompetence. Picked up In N Out and went back to Jonathan and Sasha's place. Woke up early on Thursday to check out Santee Alley, which is apparently heaven on earth. You name it - they got it. It was pretty funny though, doing Mexico light the day before we left for Mexico. After shopping our asses off, Jonathan finally pulled Sasha and I away. We smoked, we ate, we smoked, we passed out. Woke up, went drinking. After getting nice and toasty, we ended up at Jumbo's: a strip club with a clown theme. Jonathan was ridiculous, so Sasha and I took him home and put him to bed.

Next morning we left for Ensenada. I slept most of the way and woke up almost in Me-He-Ko. Crossed the border, found a hotel, shopped more. Ate dinner, passed out.

Woke up Saturday and shopped almost all day. Took a tan/swim break midday. Started heavily drinking. Ate dinner. Sasha and Jonathan got into a fight about fireworks. Jonathan and I left to go drink while Sasha cooled off. This is when the story gets interesting.

One thing you need to know - never follow Martin at Amigo's advice, should you find yourself in Ensenada. So I asked Jonathan where he wanted to go and what did he reply? Un Noche de Paris! The stripclub Martin advised us to go to. We walk in and, at first, it seemed like a shitty strip club. However, with the exchange rate and all...we couldn't really tell what was going on. After Jonathan bought a private dance it became pretty clear though - Martin has directed us to a whorehouse.

No, I'm not shitting you in the least.

So Jonathan is up getting his private dance and I'm alone at the rail. Our waiter rushed right over to me asking "are you ok? Where is your boyfriend? Do you want a bodyguard to come sit with you? Let me know if anyone bothers you - we'll kick him out." I, not being up where the private dances are, still do not really know what is going on. I ask for a light and a beer and reassure the waiter I'm cool and will flag him down if I need him. A little while later, one of the strippers walks over to me and says "you are so beautiful! Your boyfriend has left you? I will take his place!" I tell her, no, really, I'm fine. Go do your dance thing. But this does not persuade her. One of her co-workers comes over and says "beautiful girl! We are taking you home tonight!" I say "no, no, really! My...boyfriend...will be right back. I'm good. No thanks!" But still, they do not take no for an answer. They're rubbing on my shoulders and shit and I do the only thing I can think of - I flag down the waiter. He asks if a man is bothering me. I say no, but these ladies are. He says something to them in Spanish and they walk off, looking forlorn.

Jonathan comes down then and asks how I'm doing. We trade stories and he asks if I want to go soon. I say, hell yeah, let's just finish our beers. Just then one of my stripper-admirers dances over to us. She takes my head, puts it between her boobies and starts rubbing them on the side of my head. I push her away, slam my beer and say "Jonathan! Out! NOW!!!!!" He takes one look at me, slams his beer and we head out as fast as possible.

We go home, I shower shower shower (but, really, it's Mexican water. You actually get dirtier taking a shower.) And I sleep with nightmare of silicon dancing in my head.

The next morning we pack up and go to TJ. We see dogs assfucking. We go back to LA. We eat, we smoke, we sleep. And this morning, I blissfully headed home.

Vacation is awesome - but reality is a cold, hard shock afterwards. And the only thing better than going to Mexico is getting the fuck back to America.

Fuck You, Google

Fuck you and your blog search engine, Google.

This blog search engine is clearly for retarded mid-westerners who use AOL. And to fuck me over, because I'm employed and have a blog.

So fuck you, Google. Thanks for keeping the anonymous spirit of the internet alive. I'll be sure to figure out some lovely class action lawsuit to bring against you after I get fired.

God, Google is starting to make Microsoft look good. Except for the fact that Google products usually actually work.

Overheard

So they're doing some sort of construction or maintenance or something on the building in which I work. I'm not really sure, but I do know that it involves scaffolding and twenty-something male workers who appear to be latino.

So, sure, construction is annoying. I don't mind it so much, except for having to keep the windows shut with the blinds drawn. I mean, sure, I could have the blinds open, but there was only so many obscene gestures I could deal with from the mexican worker bees (yeah, it's an assumption. But I bet you Rene's whiteness that I'm right.)

What I've found interesting about the construction workers, other than them nimbly climbing up and down said scaffolding, is overhearing their conversations. Most of them consist of the standard coworker banter. You know the "Fuck you, Julio! You dropped the paint, man!" and the ever popular "Fuck you, motherfucker!" (If I had a dollar every time I said that at work! No, wait...if I had a dollar every time I thought that at work...) Yesterday they spent an hour discussing where to go for lunch - they decided on El Farolito (Dan would be so proud.)

Today, however, things took a spicy little turn. All morning Julio and Eduardo discussed how (and where and when and with what pressure etc) Julio fucked his girlfriend with a vibrator last night. Yeah. Seriously. All morning. There was a lot to discuss.

The building management said the project would only take, like, a week. That was, like, a month ago. Well, fuck me motherfucker, I guess.

Look, I'm Not Retarded. I Can Add Single Digits.

You know you're in a really bad mood when you bother fighting with the liquor store guy who barely speaks English.

On my way to Claire's house last night, I stopped to pick up a pack of smokes (I know, it's a dirty, rotten, horrible habit, isn't it.) I opted to go to a liquor store I rarely go to, but is on the way to Claire's. When I walk in there are two signs prominently displayed on the counter: one reading "Camels - But Two Get One Free!" and the other reading "Camels - $3.96." So I ask for the two-for-one deal. The liquor store guy says, "$11.00."

I say, "but your sign says Camels are $3.96. And buy-two-get-one-free?"

Guy says, "yes, Camels are $3.96 per pack. Two-for-one is $11."

"Wait, I don't understand, you sign says Camels are $3.96 a pack. Your other sign says Camels are buy-two-get-one-free. Therefore the Camels should be three packs for $8."

"No. Camels per pack are $3.96. Camels buy-two-get-one-free are $11.00"

"Ok. I want a pack of cigarettes. How much?"

"$3.96."

"Ok. I want two packs of cigarettes. How much?"

"$7.92. Plus tax."

"Ok. I want the buy-two-get-one-free deal. How much?"

"$11.00."

"So let me get this straight, your buy-two-get-one-free deal is a lie."

"No. Camels are buy-two-get-one-free. $11.00."

"Ok, let me explain something to you. Your signs read buy-two-get-one-free and one is $3.96. Now if I buy two packs, it's $7.92."

"Plus tax."

"Right, whatever, let me finish. So one pack is $4. Two packs are $8. Buy buy-two-get-one-free and the price is $11."

"Yes. Are you buying cigarettes or not."

"I said let me finish. So you should take your sign down then. Because it's a blatant lie, see. If the cigarettes were actually buy-two-get-one-free then it would cost me $8 to get three packs."

"No, no, three packs are $12."

"Yeah, so your sign is a lie."

"No, buy-two-get-one-free is $11."

"Ok, look, I'm not retarded. I get that there is a discount on the smokes. All I'm saying is your sign is lying by claiming the smokes are buy-two-get-one-free when they are in fact, like, 5% off. Your signs say the smokes are $3.96 or buy-two-get-one-free, which would mean you should be selling me three packs of smokes for, like, $8."

"Three packs of smokes? $12."

"LOOK - your sign says smokes are $3.96 a pack AND buy-two-get-one-free. I want my smokes. I want three packs. And I want it to cost $8."

"You want three packs of smokes? $12."

"Ok. Look. Fine. I'll take one pack of smokes. Here is $3.96."

"$4.30. Plus tax."

"Fine. Fine. Fine. Here's your $4.30, give me my smokes." I begin to walk out after I've had a very long day and was already in a very bad mood which prompted me to be unforgivably rude to the poor foreigner who's just trying to get by and you know is hassled more than he ought to be because his store is on Divisadero. I know all this, but it didn't stop me from screaming back at him, with a long line of customers waiting, "AND TAKE DOWN YOUR FUCKING LYING SIGN YOU LYING MOTHERFUCKER."

Poor guy.

341 Hours...But Really, Who's Counting?

I'm getting all ready for my trip to LA in two weeks and I couldn't possibly be more excited. I went out to buy bikinis on my lunch break with Rene ($.97! At Old Navy!) and I've borrowed Steph's weekend bag. I'm taking TJ to Rene's house again tomorrow to acclimate her, although I'm still a little terrified of leaving her. I'll probably be in a worse state than she will.

I'm super duper excited for Tijauna too! I haven't been there in years. It's going to be so much trouble with Jonathan and Sasha too. I'm sort of scared...except that Jonathan is so pussy whipped he'll no doubt follow Sasha's decrees (ie no donkey shows etc.) Thank heavens for small favors, right?

I'm also organizing my LA shopping list. So far this is what I've got:

1 - Yellow, ostrich embossed leather weekend bag. Bowling or doctor's bag style. Also acceptable would be apple green, crocodile embossed. But I'd much prefer the yellow.

2 - Oxblood color, elaborately embroidered, Tony Lama style cowboy boots. Very, very excited for these.

3 - Cowboy shirt (optional.) To never ever, not under any circumstances, no matter what, never to be worn with the boots.

4 - Two new pieces. One for at home (I'm betting Claire wants her's back some day.) One to go.

5 - Any kickass vintage pieces I find.

6 - A toddler sized tacky sweatshirt that says Tijuana on it. But only if it's under $5. This is, of course, for the little one.

7 - as many pharmies as we drug mules can carry

I think it's going to be a really great trip. I can't believe I haven't seen Jonathan since February, we used to hang out every day! And I even have a new neighborneighbor now...so much has changed. But I'm sure as soon as I get down there, I will also realize how much between us has stayed the same.

341 hours until vacation!

If Work Was Like Labor Day, I'd Be The Best Employee Ever

Got drunk Friday night - stayed that way through the weekend.

I went over to Rene and Ben's place on Friday to acclimate TJ before I dump her there for a week. I got super star trashed - to be honest, I don't even know if it was Rene or Court who drove me home! I also had a great dinner cooked by Rene - she's going to make the best wife ever some day!

On Saturday I slept in until 3:30, it was crazy. I didn't even really want to get up, but the numbers on the clock finally made sense and I told myself sleeping any later was just unacceptable. I had plans with Pat to get drunk on Saturday, so I called him when I woke up. Of course he said "be right there!" And was over in a jiffy to pick me up. After I got some breakfast in me (uh...ok, chips and dip) Pat and I started drinking whiskey. I made a fabulous little concoction mixing the whiskey with cream soda. Now, I'm not going to say it's for everyone. But it's pretty tasty and I love the vanilla kick it's got! Pat and I hung out at his place with Jean all evening drinking. I was supposed to meet up with Dan and the newspaper posse and he called me around 9:30 to let me know "well be leaving soon, like, 20 minutes." I told him to call me when he was actually leaving. I then told Pat and Jean "I just need to rest my eyes for a second...just a second...see! I have the phone, I'll wake up, it'll be fine!" And then I drunkenly passed out on their couch. Well, I did wake up when Dan was calling me, which was at 12:30. By that point I just had to tell him "baby, I'm way too tired and drunk to go out and get drinks" to which we all pretty much agreed.

Sunday was a quiet, lazy day. I didn't really do all that much, just hung out at home cleaning mainly. I went to Steph's labor day party Sunday evening, Jean's labor day party Sunday night. Both good, chill. Steph lives in this crazy nice apartment though, so I'm totally going to have to start spending more time there!

Monday was another quiet one. I woke up early with Dan, puttered around the house and then took a nap. Went to Jim's labor day party and then over to Dan's new apartment to help him unpack. I've been very scared to go to his apartment because I pictured this weird hippy commune. It turns out that his room is super nice, I really like it. And his apartment, well, not a hippy commune per se. I think I'm going to refer to it as a mission commune. Final decision on it: the last apartment was way dirtier, but this one might be much scarier.

Well, back to the grind today. Yay LA in two weeks!