I'm Not Dead Yet, Part Deux

Apparently, I like to go MIA every few posts so that you dear readers can wonder where I am …am I dead? Am I somewhere fabulous? Am I acting coy to toy with my readers? Am I sick again lying on my fabulous sheets?

Well the answer is that it is none of the above. For the last three weeks my life has been hell on earth if you describe hell on earth as conference rooms, PowerPoint, brainstorms, cold takeout, more brainstorms, more conference rooms, 2-3 hour sleep nights, et cetera. That is right I have been working my butt off at work working on something work related that is work huge. Have I confused anyone yet? No. Yes? Sigh.

At any rate I wanted to put on notice to everyone that I am back at my regularly scheduled programming. Upcoming topics include Wine for Jesus, Real Housewives tips and tricks, Nightclub genius in Mountain View, Why Pistol hates me and has barred me from commenting on her blog and I dunno maybe some NYE pics for good measure.

Until the next post lovelies and until then I leave you with this (thanks Posh):


This post is dedicated to caffeine and adrenalin…getting the job done since 1819.

The Dreaded Ex

The first time I met Fran was on my first venture out to Canadia…a “meet the folks” trip Xtian had arranged after only 6 months of dating*. I had heard her name before, but in my usual self-absorbed self didn’t really pay attention. Fran, you see, was Xtian’s high school sweetheart. A girl he dated for x number of months or years or whatever that was supposedly really smart and also pretty cute. I usually don’t pay attention to things like this because to quote Melissa Joan Hart in “Drive Me Crazy”: “High school love is for saps, or haven’t you heard?!?!” Digress. I had kinda forgotten about her until I walked into Xtian’s rents family room that fateful trip and I see a picture of Fran and Xtian in all prom glory. Unintentional for sure but I could not help to be slightly miffed at this and began to dissect the picture from every possible angle and obsess over it for no apparent reason other than I am a girl and this is what girls do.**

Xtian was invited to his high school reunion, not like a 5 or 10 year, but more like a “graduates of the uber gifted program.” Whatever. Given that I had no prior warning to this, the only thing I had in my bag that was approp was a little wrap dress that pretty much exposed my nonexistent boobage***.

Whatever, geeks love boobs right so I went with it. Well, after stressing about the lack of a camisole or safety pin, I free flowed it with black lacy bra and we take off. We get there and everyone is dressed in kahkis and blazers and like grandmamma dresses…my get-up just does not seem appropriate at all so I start to feel slightly uncomfortable. Then, Xtian decides to ditch me so that he can catch up with all of his old colleagues, teachers, et cetera. So there I am, not knowing a soul, awckward, boobs out and alcohol less****.

So I start wandering the high school aimlessly when I see Xtian talking to a random couple in the hall so I decide to go introduce myself just to have something to do. I walk up and he seems entranced talking to this girl so I kinda nudge myself an introduction. Turns out it is the infamous Fran. Shit. As in I look like shit and shit it his ex who looks like a square but at least is dressed approp for the event. Double shit. After I pretty much introduce myself, I make my way to go and Xtian decides to join me but not before turning back and saying “you look great.”

I mean I say that to people all the time and people say that to me all the time, it is polite and most of the time true, but I don’t know what it was about those three words combined with the wrong wrap dress at the wrong time but it sent me into all kinds of mental nonsense. I never really said anything about it, but that moment just sticks out for me because I am a gal who likes to torture herself.

Fast forward four-and-a-half years later I find myself back in Canadia doing the visit to the in-laws for the holidays (for those wondering the prom picture was NOWHERE to be found because you KNOW I looked). My wonderful mother in law had pulled out some childhood memorabilia for me to check out. Low and behold what do I come across? That’s right, Xtian’s high school yearbook. Of course I start reading every entry trying to find a glimpse of this Fran chick. So sad yet so true. Moving on

On our last day in Canadia, Xtian and I had made plans to have lunch with his high school physics teacher. Fitting, I feel, as he was indirectly responsible for us having an odd yet successful first date in a strange discombobulated way (which I will post on another day if I remember). We opt to meet at a local indoor mall as the city is still covered in snow and getting anywhere is such a wreck. Since I had about 30 mins to get ready I quickly showered, washed but did not dry my hair and applied make-up in Xtian’s dark room. LOVELY. Since we had an hour to kill, I figure it will give my hair time to dry and I can check out my make-up once we get to the mall.

We walk in, I start peeping the windows for any shopping potential, and then Xtian stops dead in his tracks and says “Fran.” Yes, same Fran that I was obsessing over when I read his high school yearbook the night before. Yikes. A nervous giddiness fills me immediately…here I was with sopping wet hair and freaking basketball sized earmuffs unsure of my make-up since I did it in the dark. I kind of felt like Carrie, from SATC, when she kept running into Natasha and the first time she was in cow girl outfit and the next in her underwear. Sigh.

Xtian introduces his fantastic wife and she introduces her bland husband. When discussing where we went on honeymoon he says we went to the Maldives to which she turns to me and says “no wonder you are so tan*****.” I then proceeded to spend the next hour trying to find mirrors in the mall to ensure that I did not overdo it with blush and bronzer (yes even in the snow you need a sun kissed look) so that instead of refreshed look I was going for I did not accidently get the Tammy Fay Faye Baker******* look. Jesus, what is wrong with me?

Nutshell: She is married 2 years in, he is married 2 months in, she just finished her PhD at MIT, he made VP at a prestigious financial firm at 27, her husband also just finished his PhD at MIT, his wife is…tan. Sigh. Well at least I am so cute whereas she is not cute dudes…like at all. Well okay, I guess she is alright, but not like this Natalie Portman I had made up in my head.

Then it hits me, here is this genius girl and her genius husband that have seriously done nothing to me and all I have to retort with is “at least I am sooooooo much better looking than she is”. Seriously? Is this what it boils down to? I mean I am no moron, quantum and advanced math does not faze me (in fact it actually kinda excites me) but let’s face facts…I ain’t impressing anyone lately with my level of smarts. How did I go from NASA interning and science learning to Britney Spears obsessing and Us Weekly reading? I mean it is not a competition…for all my faults I am sure she has her own, we all do. But what the hell am I doing at 30 comparing myself to anyone?!?! Haven’t I established my fabulousness enough that I have to go pick on this poor girl? Le sigh, I will add to my resolutions to rediscover my self-confidence AKA as major ego.

This post is dedicated to Tony Robbins.

* Canadian men and commitment, don’t know what it is but they just dig it.
** To everyone’s defense a pic of my quasi ex whateverness sat in my rents living room for YEARS (probs until about a year ago) when after various Xtian digs I moved it into the toy room. We are a house of procrastinators, sorry.
*** It seems I like to have my boobs constantly on display, don’t know what that is all about
**** I am actually not sure if there was or was not alcohol but I assume I would have been drunk at this point if there was, since I self medicate with alcohol when uncomfortable so I am thinking no.
*****And if by “so tan” you mean “so hot” then yes, that is why I am so hot.
******OMG, I heart her…like HEART HER. Probs more than Britney Spears, but I cannot confirm nor deny that.

2009 Can You Hear Me?

Alrighty, it is that time of year again when we all gain perspective of our life over the previous years and make resolutions we really have no intention of keeping. In honor of that tradition, I have made a list and checked it twice of those things I vow to kinda try to do in 2009. Enjoy.

1. Stop speaking like a delusional teen. This includes saying words like totes, whatevs, vom, perf, probs, gorge, et cetera. This means I must also stop saying “Oh my God, I know right?!?!” in response to anything and everything. I am a 30 year-old well-educated professional who sounds like a total moron most of the time, I get it and it is time to change.*
   
2. Eliminate consumption of fake sugar. This means no mas to the likes of diet coke, splenda, et cetera.**
   
3. I was told once at a party that being 5’2’’ and 130lbs means you are morbidly obese. Given that I am morbidly obese I plan to lose about 10 lbs in oh nine. But not if it is too hard to maintain as maintenance of a slamming body is key…bobble head doll on the other hand not so key.***
   
4. Utilizing the snowball method I plan to pay off cards and whatnots so that I effectively work on a cash only basis as Suze Orman says to do. I believe that Xtian would call this paying down debt while staying cash flow positive…I once heard him say that on a conference call so I have been aching for an excuse to use it. Once accomplished I plan to put all my extra money in savings…well not all…we all have to do our part in stimulating the economy which I will plan to do via key sales such as the Nordies Half-Yearly or the Neiman Summer Sale…God bless America after all.
   
5. Limit alcoholic units consumed per week to 4. Since I moved to SF I have become a SERIOUS alcoholic pretty much depleting our very expansive (not to mention pricey) wine collection in a matter of two months. It would be one thing if I were hosting fabulous dinner parties or girls’ nights and drinking myself to a splendid stupor but it usually involves me, alone in the loft, blaring the Food Network while staring out the window to assess the parking situation on the street below. Sad, I know.
   
6. Use my Nike+ system I received last Christmas in my quest to become a runner. This is a carryover resolution of 08 that I did not accomplish. Boo.
   
7. Speaking of carryover resolutions, I vow to also be nice to Xtian this year. I just can’t help it, I mean he is such a doll to me about 92.7% of the time whereas I am a doll to him…well let’s not go there but let’s just say I ain’t making any dean’s list with my average. I am like one of those bratty kids on the Real Housewives of Orange Country, it is so ridiculous and I acknowledge that.

This post is dedicated to list making

* This may also have to include the elimination of my other choice phrases such as “OMG, I heart Britney” to anyone who will listen. I mean I totes do, but perhaps this is a convo I should have in my head.
**Well okay maybe I will occasionally indulge because 30 grams of sugar in a sprite is RIDICULOUS. I think the general rule is to not consume anything with over 6 grams so that is just crazy…expecially since you could probs have flan for that sugar count.
***I heart working out but I also heart wine and tasting menus (and McDonald’s Big Macs…OMG, so good right?!?!) so I think this may be impossible but at least I try.

Typical Housewife Weekend

I never got the memo that once you become a Housewife your social calendar books up…that or it is just the holiday season and everyone wants to party like it is 1999…probs the latter because let’s face it, I am just not that important…I digress.

Friday night was the legendary party I wrote about last Friday. The setting was incredible, the people were very smart and interesting*, and the housewives were vicious…welcome to the shark-pen I guess. I counteracted the snarky HW* comments by drinking expensive wine…buckets of the stuff...whilst staring in my own personal karaoke show singing along with the host of the party (adore him and his wife…who was so nice) to awesome 60’s and 70’s rock. So good…and surprisingly instead of being mortified Xtian joined along.

Saturday morning was brunch at Town's End followed by my PBDing** on the couch while watching Clueless so that I could recharge batteries for the night ahead. Saturday night, Xtian and I headed out to another legendary party of epic proportions. That’s right: D’s Family’s Christmas party in all of its 80’s theme glory. Going in full Secrets of my Succe$s mode, Xtian dressed up as Brantley Foster/Carlton Whitfield and I dressed as Vera Prescott…of course. The outfits were hilar, the food was delish, and the alcohol was free flowing. Thankfully I was driving that night because, based on Xtian’s PBD the next day, I would still be in recovery mode.

Sunday, my two BFFs Vicki B and Pistol came over to have our annual Christmas dinner were we each pick a complicated gourmet dish…and then we make it ourselves. Given the rain nonsense that was SF that day we decided to instead Waiters-on-Wheels it and watch Gems TV nonstop so that we could learn as much as possible about gemstones…hey we all have our thing right?!?!

The end result of such an exciting weekend for me has been an excruciating headache and probs a 20 lbs weight gain. The party continues this weekend with my employee only holiday party followed by a late dinner at Gary Danko on Friday night and perhaps some Bubble Lounge action on Saturday. Yes, it does suck to be me.

This post is dedicated to Aleve

*Housewife
** PBD is a trademarked by Shallow and Very Single, Inc.

And you may ask yourself-well...how did I get here?

A few days before my wedding I was at my Great Aunt’s house and one of my older cousins, Pandy, was there. The subject turned to my pending nuptials and she jokingly reminded me that this was “going to be first of your five marriages. Good job, hope the party is fun.” Natch! Stunned and taken aback I asked her what she meant by that and she then proceeded to remind me that from the time I was 4 (sick I know) until about 23 I would run around telling anyone that would listen that I intended to be married multiple times because the only high-point of being married was to have a HUGE party and wear a great dress. Totes inapprop, but to her defense I may have said this to her at her own wedding…both her first and second.

I have to say, I never really envisioned myself as a bride much less a wife. I am not very bridey or girly…in that way. I mean I am UBER girly in that I love pink, Britney Spears, hate icky crawly things and have a mild (okay TOTAL) obsession with shoes and hangbags.* But in my ultra girl world, boys never really factored into the picture in any sort of seriousness.

I never really liked having exclusive boyfriends because I did not like the hassle of being tied down to anyone. I mean if you think about it, marriage is like “game over” right? So why ANYONE in their right mind did it boggled me to no end. It’s just so final, no reset button, no do-overs, you are pretty much done.

So here I am 30 years old married to my “exclusive” boyfriend of 5 years and I have to say it’s not so bad. I mean to be honest, it is kinda the same except I just spend more time in our place (I am Latin and Catholic and a square so no, we did not live together). I mean there is still the finality of it all…but then there is also the comradery that you are in this together, the joy of trying to “make it” in this cold cruel world**, the benefit to have someone take out the trash and kill icky crawly things and the joy of being with someone who makes you happy (and keeps your cold feet warm at night). If that is what final looks like, well then maybe that is not so bad, right?

Anyway, the whole point of this is never say never because you never know when never will bite you in your love stricken ass. Make sense? Stay tuned tomorrow I promise retellings of wedding fêtes and honeymoon bliss.

This post is dedicated to my gay friends who still have to fight for their right to party at their OWN legally sanctioned weddings. Please remember LOVE not 8 HATE everyone.

* I am sorry but when I a girl tells me she is not “into shoes” it makes me cringe…ugh talk about a waste of a vagina…crass I know.
** And by “make-it” I mean reap the benefits off my rather already made 20-something year old husband who affords us our lifestyle…kinda like Kato…except hopefully the hubby is not OJ because that would not be good.