Today is Earth Day

The other day one of my colleagues posted on Facebook that he was a huge fan of plastic grocery bags. And despite trying to live a very green lifestyle, it was his ultimate non-green vice. That got me thinking: what are my non-green vices?

I mean sure, I recycle my pop cans and commute via train to work but I still have room for improvement right? I started to asses my greenness and my goodness, lot of work to do still. So below are some of my many green vices and how I will plan to change them starting today!

How will I green in 2011:

• Plastic water bottles: There is a reason why I look younger than I really am* and that reason is water. I consistently have an overly large plastic bottle of water attached to my hand our mouth. This means I buy lots of bottles of water. Over the last year I have been making the slow switch to Brita water pitchers and camelback water bottles, but MAN do I love me a good bottle of chilled water that I then can toss instead of wash but c’est la vie. This year, vigilance will prevail and I will make sure to always have a reusable bottle handy.


• Water consumption in general: So, I am a tad germaphopic and neurotic. This means I manually wash my dishes and then put them in the dishwasher and run it on the sani-cycle that includes an extra rinse or five. My lovely, yet hippie, sister was MORTIFIED when she found out. Apparently this wastes a LOT of water. She was even more mortified when she saw me do laundry as I like to wash my clothes in like colors. That means I wash blacks with blacks, and dark blues with dark blues, and baby blues with baby blues, and pinks with pinks. Apparently this TOO wastes a LOT of water. This is going to be a hard one for me without some form of therapy, but I will try to maybe wash in “normal” cycle…and maybe do a “darks” load instead of a wash by color…but I am already breaking into hives thinking about it.


• Food waste: Have you seen the show hoarders? Well imagine that scenario going on in my fridge after a frenzied shopping spree at Whole Paycheck. I dunno what it is about that place that whips me into a gourmet cooking frenzy that before I know it I have filled my cart with the all the organic produce, herbs and protein that money can buy. The problem is I don’t really have time to cook daily and if someone says let’s go to out to this fantastic restaurant tonight, I immediately grab my bag and forget about the pork loin I am marinating in the fridge. Resulting in the tossing of above mentioned bags of organic produce, herbs and protein without so much as even turning on my stove. Le sigh.Yes. I have heard the phrase kids in third world countries don’t even have organic arugula to throw away so I will be better about buying only the food I need…even if the baby squash is on sale and looks delish.

So how about you, any green tips willing to share?

This post is dedicated to bus pants.

* Or so I am told, I think the work stress and lack of sleep have significantly aged me in the last three years

Blogvolution

Dear friends…lovers…bloggers…I am temporarily back. I miss blogging, I do. Not because of the fandom success, fame and fortune it brought me*, but because I am normally a very reserved and controlled person and this blog gives me the opportunity to really open up and over share without barriers that are usually only taken down with copious amounts of wine. I like, actually love, control but unfortunately this means that I tend to internalize a bit in the sake of calmness and I am tired…oh so tired.

But do people still have blogs? Are they still the way to communicate to the outside world?

Furthermore do we, as an audience, still process the attention span needed for verbose daily online musings of the day? Or is our self indulgence buffet limited to 160 characters or less? I am going to take a chance on an unknown kid and say dn w/twtr and YES TO FULL SEMI-COMPREHENSIBLE SENTENCES…WOO HOO. And besides, I think I personally know all three of my readers - and we are all chatters - so I say pull up a chair and let’s get to talkin’.

There is so much to catch-up on since we last talked dear friends. Like how I am on impressionable SOB and have now taken to creating my own 35-for-35 bucket list ala R&N from Life-a-Roni. Or like how I spent the last year working 100 hours a week and traveling all over the place but no where all at the same time. Or even like how I love food and that is all I talk about and how I cook and eat and go out and eat and then talk about my next meal while I am eating.

Okay, so maybe a lot has not changed in the last year but it is fun to write about.

So for whoever is out there…still listening…still wanting their gravy train fix…I am here to deliver once more.** YAY! So who’s coming with me?

The post is dedicated to Jerry Maguire

*still waiting for all four of these things but whatevs
** Until I get bored, or hungry or overworked

Feliz Cindo de Mayo

Happy Cinco de Mayo* friends.

While not Mexico's independence day, I (along with a number of beer companies) ask all of us to celebrate the power that a small group of determined Mexicans had when they gave an EPIC beatdown to the Frenchies in a battle of all battles at Puebla.

Outnumbered, outgunned, but thankfully not outsmart, they held their own and were able to keep the French occupation away from Mexico...for a little bit anyway.

Hopefully Mexico will be able to challenge their inner warrior again and deliver a similar beatdown to France when the two meet during the world cup qualifying round and send those bitches PACKING HOME. VIVA MEXICO! VIVA! VIVA ZAPATA**! VIVA!***

Anyway, the moral of the story here kids is that at the end of the day, and in any situation, don't ever give up and always, ALWAYS, go down swinging...who knows you may just win in the end.

SI SE PUEDE!

This post is dedicated to staying thirsty my friends (and my lovely sister)

*Cinco de Mayo, boys and girls, also happens to be the official holiday of my lovely hometown, San Jose. A day best celebrated by cruising, booty shorts and halter tops, and boys hanging over their car doors with camcorders (or I guess this day in age video enabled mobile phones) asking girls for their numbers. Sigh, I miss being home.

** Sooo a different battle but seriously it sounds way better than Zaragoza.

*** Nothing against the French, except during world cup time...and any other country that dare go against Mexico or the US...just sayin.

Single People Alone Together

I read this really interesting blog post* by this group of 20 somethings at work on their definition of marriage and what it means to be married. And, while I am nowhere near being a “20 something” I could seriously relate to all of the stories at one point or another in my life.

And it got me thinking to my own relationship, and what it means to be married. I mean, most of my friends are all single and damn proud of it as they should be, and even those of my friends who are married (which are like 3 of them) most act like single people anyway. So why did I go over to the “dark side” and choose wife instead of life?

I never wanted to get married, I will admit that. And even though Vicky and Pistol took bets that I would eventually change my mind, I was adamant in my decision that I wanted no part of that. So I sit here, in a pool of my own hypocrisy, happily married to a wonderful man and I can’t imagine my current life any different.

To me marriage meant children, it meant the second shift after work of cooking and cleaning and laundry (minus the gym and the tanning), it meant having to sacrifice who I am and the relationships I have built in order to become a perfect “we” to a man I have only known for a short period of time…I mean who the hell wants that?!?!

So what changed? What made me want to take that leap of fate that I wouldn’t be walking down the path of indentured servitude all in exchange for a shiny ring and a big party?

Honestly? It was rethinking the whole concept of marriage and creating my own dysfunctional version of it with a boy who seemed to be on board with my crazy antics. It was the understanding that I would be still be allowed to be myself – with my one sock wearing*, Britney obsessing, over working antics – without being judged and without being weighed down by this extra person who I am now legally tied to through various state documents.

I mean yes, there is still the cooking and cleaning part that I do (and he takes no part of) but really I can’t even blame him for that. It is my Latin Catholic upbringing, and the constant reminder from my parents that I need to be a better wife, that forces me to come home and make these elaborate meals while loading the washer, and feeding the dog, and a million other things, all the while checking my work email and responding to crisis. And when I complain, I get the “we should just hire someone to do that stuff” so I guess it’s all self induced from an internal cultural instinct like birds migrating south** for the winter.

But at the end of the day, Xtian and I are very much our own independent selves. I mean honestly, we both work and travel so much and even when we are home we are at our own respective workstations that it seems more like a roommate, with occasional benefits, situation than anything else. I trust and respect him, innately, and seek his advice as a teammate in my so called life but honestly how is that any different than my BFFs and if I lived with them(aside from the benefits situation, although they are all pretty hot so you never know)? And it works…for me. And isn’t that all that should really matter?

Now, I am in no means advocating that everyone get married or that everyone needs to be coupled up at all. What I am saying is that you don't let others define what your happiness is. Don't let people bully you into thinking that you need to be single or be married for that matter (lord knows I get pleanty of eye rolls and snarky remarks for being married). Define your own happiness and to hell with the rest.

::steps off soapbox::

This post is dedicated to Booger, Vicky B and Pistol…my forever soul mates

*If you are interested in the blog shoot me a note and I will email it to you
**If you got this, thank you for being my BFF.
***I am going with south here because it is closer to the equator and that is warmer…brownie points to those who get the reference

Hello, Is It Me Your Looking For?

Yes kiddies, it is your old Auntie Gravy Train here and I think I am ready to bust a Jay-Z and come out of retirement for the umpteenth time.

I know it has been way to long and I am not sure how long I can keep this up, but I think it is time I return center stage for a final curtain call until my next curtain call on this thing we call life, love, happiness and to much booze.

Onward through the haze my friends: whose coming with me?

XOXO,
Gravy Train

This post is dedicated to Posh, Pistol and D...whoes daily blogging musings have kept me entertained enough to be jelly.

To Blog or Not To Blog: That Is the Question

The more and more I engage in public webby type forums the more and more I feel the need to retract. Let me explain.

For one, I work in communications.
This means I have vested interests, outside of my own oh so fascinating life, in helping others communicate in the blogworld. If anything, I should be like Mother Theresa and put others in front of myself, at least online. That is if Mother Theresa were a blog/twiterer…which she wasn’t but who knows maybe she would be today.
MamaT RT: @Gandhi TweetUp for the next hunger strike http://tinyurl.com/wtfohGT2hel *

For two, I work period.
Which means I like to dedicate at least 24 units of time to work, 4 units of time to working out, 6 units of time watching bad TV/drinking wine and the balance sleeping.**

For three, I am insanely private.
So even things sharing nonsuperficial things like this or this makes me really uncomfortable. But I find solace in putting it out there since I never do normally and I feel it has made me more upfront in real life. Well, okay I guess I have always been rather curt so whatevs.

On the other hand, I LOVE LOVE LOVE reading blogs and I get so sad when my fav blogs site the very same reasons I want to go dark. Oh I am too busy to write, oh I have a new love in my life, whoops my blog got me fired. Okay, the last one totally legit and begs the question why blog.
I mean for one, your comments are awesome.
It really is like Christmas for me when I see someone has posted one.

For two, I can’t seem to stay away.
I love the allure of posting my random musings of the day/week.

For three, I need to practice what I preach.
If I have no qualms on telling others to engage engage engage online, shouldn’t I be drinking the same Kool-aid?

So that is where I am at, I am meeting myself at the crossroads. Not sure where this short-lived journey will take me or if I will get over it by tomorrow (which is totally possible as I am insanely fickle).

This post is dedicated to pen and paper

*So wrong yes I know. Mourn you till I join you.
**For those of you who get the reference, this is why we are friends.

What Would Jesus Do?

To lent or rehab, that is the question. Based on a severely depleted wine collection, my inability to remain sober for more that 50% of the week, and the fact that I have gained about 10lbs (okay so like 7 but still) that I directly attribute to the boozing, I have decided that my poor little body must go into detox mode and I must lay off the Jesus juice permanently, temporarily, of course.

My first inclination was to go to rehab so that I could get 21 days off and spa, but when I broached the subject with Xtian of him sending me to Cirque or Promises (or any other rehab that has a nice spa and is close to a winery) he pretty much said that he would not fund my shenanigans since and that he was onto me just wanted an extended vacay. BLASTS. Additionally, he pointed out, rehab was not like a master cleanse*for 21 days and that if I actually went I would give up the sauce for ever…DOUBLE BLASTS. We are wine club members, please, this will never work.

Demoralized and defeated, I went about going back to work while swigging wine when I came to the realization that lent was upon us and that it would be a perfect time for me to give something up that I love so that I can be a better moral person who realizes that she is blessed with what she has. That sacrifice for me would be alcohol of all kinds. I mean there are kids with 3rd ranked tasting palaet that only drink boxed wine…and here I am taking for granted that I am blessed with a wine store across the street.

Genius I though, pure and utter genius. I quickly started recruiting members that include Posh, D and Pistol (soda for her). This was two weeks ago and I am unhappy to report that I have found it near impossible to remain even 2 days sober since Lent. I am a Catholic failure of epic proportions, never mind all my other non-Catholic tendencies like almost everything else, but whatever…my catechism instructor would be so unproud.

I plan to start again next week and then make-up the time I have lost in a weird self-induced post Easter repentance that will remind me that I am without willpower of any kind. Wish me luck kids, I am going to need it.

This post is dedicated to sacramental wine

*True story: When Xtian and I were exchanging rings at the altar I had to jam his ring on his finger (he is really lean but I like to poke fun sometimes) to which I looked up at him and said “master cleanse dude.” Totally inappropriate but now master cleanse reminds me of my vows.

Sponge Gravy Judgy Pants

I don’t know what is wrong with me. Maybe it is a severe case of the Mondays that has extended itself for an additional 12 days but I have been on a limited bullshit tolerance like you wouldn’t believe and apparently find it very appropriate to call everyone out at a moment’s notice…via this blog, and other passive aggressive means, of course that nobody reads. Whatevs.

At some point, when this barrage of hysterics of mine is over, I will have to inevitably apologize to someone for being a complete asshole by not censoring myself. Ugh, I hate apologizing. I hate it almost as much as I hate the sight of blood which is the thing I hate the most (aside from creepy crawly things and being disappointed which is the WORST). It makes me want to vom and faint all at the same time while being totally disgusted. Where was I going with this? Ah yes, this is why I have decided that if I don’t have anything nice to say that I should keep that shiz to myself and not be so quick to judge people.*

Case in point: At a work 1:1 strategy session on Wednesday, that turned into happy hour, I may or may not have been mean to a boy that I found annoying for no apparent reason than the fact that he kinda looked and talked like my frat brothers…that and he was rooting for the US to win the football match…I heart the USA team (TEAM BEASLEY) as well but OBVI I was rooting for Mexico and did not appreciate the gauntlets from an unknown dude.

Okay, well to be fair, it was not obvi to anyone but myself that I was in fact rooting for Mexico as I was wearing work clothes and did not have any of my football riot gear on. And the only gauntlet really thrown was that when he asked for the score I said 0-1 US and he said “yeah!” like any normal American. To which I informed him he could sit somewhere else, to which he didn’t but tried to make amends by agreeing with me that American Football should be called handball.

Sidebar rant: I seriously don’t get WHY American Football is called football, seriously it should be throwball or carryball or something else since they don’t really play with their feet now do they? Then again they don’t really play at all…I mean what is the point? 30 seconds of action, 2 minutes of reviewing plays and measuring stuff, then 20 minutes of commercial…what is the opposite of awesome…ah yes American football…I digress.

Anyway after the football incident he kept up his incessant babble of nonsense to which I had to be completely disagreeable and snarky…you know because I could and all. Annoyed I finally turned to D and asked “who the f*** is this guy and why is he here?” To which she turns, laughs hysterically, and informs me that said guy is Tom and he works with us. Oh. Shiz. I am AWESOME!!!

In typical Gravy mode, I had managed to be incessantly mean for no apparent reason other than the fact that he kinda annoyed me for kinda being a little on the insecure side and thus compensating by being loud and agreeable with the mean girl in front of him chugging beers. Ugh, raise your hand if you are an asshole.

I mean I am not saying being mean to people is okay if you don’t know them. That’s not it at all, but a little tact goes a long way in work place situations. So then I decide that it would be in my best interest to be nice since I will eventually run into this guy again at some point and being the work bitch is never a good thing. Turns out Tom actually really enjoys football but prefers the premiership (a little cliché yes but who can blame him). He is an artist, a painter with a post-modernist approach, but works in PR to pay bills (I am an art freak, in particular in post modern work, Dale…are you kidding me?!?! BRILL!!! I even got married in an art museum). He lives in the South Bay by choice which I can appreciate since I heart the South Bay.

Also turns out that once he is not worried about what people think of him and acting a part he seems like he would be very nice. So maybe we had more in common that I thought. Had I taken a chance on an unknown kid from the beginning we could have been watching the game together instead of me rolling my eyes and making a poor chap uncomfortable. Sigh.

Queue in sappy music…So moral of the story: I will be open-minded and nice when I meet new people and hope it does not bite me in the ass.

This post is dedicated Lindsey Lohan

* For those who clicked the link, you are welcome.

Boy Culture

You know, girls always get the bad rap…like ALWAYS. We talk too long on the phone with our friends, we read into things that are not there, we are clingy, we hog the bathroom, we gossip, we freak out, we watch “lame” TV, take forever to get ready…get my drift? Well you know what?!?! I just described about 99.9% if the boys I know and I am sick and tired of getting the bad rap. I am sticking up the proverbial middle finger to the girl stereotype and stomping my foot down…enough!

Yes you may try to play hard with your little friends as you watch “Universal Solider” (ahem, LAME) talking a big game, but then your hard game quickly converts to a gossip fest of the latest girl you are dating and what it all means: does she really like you? will she sleep with you? Will she take heed on your advances? Sound familiar? Yeah next time you wonder go straight to the source…we won’t lie about it…trust us.

You put out the hints…“oh we should hang out” “we should do this” “we should do that” and as soon as we reciprocate or say “yeah lets” you freak the eff out that things may or may not be going too fast…sound familiar?

Bathroom…DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED. Magazine racks were invented for men. Is there something wrong with the couch that you can’t read the latest issue of Playboy there? Yes, we must blow dry and do make-up in the most crucial lighting possible but net-net we equally hog son. So go project elsewhere.

As for clingy? Really? Do we really want to go there?!?! I have dated more men than I care to count before I got married and ALL of them were clingy…like all. Maybe it is because I preferred spending time with my friends or family than be all couple like but still. ALL OF THEM DUDES. God forbid you can’t make a quick visit/dinner/movies/couch snogging/chinging when they want you to; all of a sudden there is an issue. Puh-lease.

So sorry I sound like a bitter hater but before you boys start throwing your stones, realize that you live in a glass house. Steps off soapbox.

This post is dedicated to all the ladies that truly feel me, throw your hands up at me.

Deep Thoughts by Gravy Train

Sunday night Xtian and I were celebrating our 3-month marriage anniversary by doing what we do best: me cooking my mom’s famous enchiladas while he worked and worked and worked. Whomever said romance was dead, come over to our loft (we will even supply the free ultra secure wi-fi). At any rate, we live across the street from a fire station so hearing sirens and seeing flashing lights is of no biggie…however after this went on for about 10 minutes I started to worry and went to look outside the windows.

Our entire street was covered in fire trucks and they had a ladder out with firemen trying to access our building. Since there were no fire alarms, I ask Xtian to tear himself away from his excel models to go peep the situation since I have chilies on the stove (a girl has her priorities). He goes out, but not before making sure I have my phone on me and that I put my shoes on just in case I have to evacuate ASAP.

As I stood there wondering if I am going to die (I think we covered in this post that I am beyond dramatic) I began to wonder if there is anything of emotional value I should collect just in case it comes to the whole evacuating/building burning down type of sitchu. I go upstairs, grab my diamond cross that my parents gave to me that has more meaning to me than almost anything else I own, make sure I have my wedding/engagement rings on and then patiently wait for an evacuation call whilst stirring chilies (hey if this shiz was not going to go down I was NOT going to wash a pot of stuck on chili pods).

There was nothing else I wanted to take…not my other jewelry, the expensive shoes, the fancy handbags, the designer clothes, the countless gadgets, my blinged out Rolex*…nothing. All the things that were really important to me weren’t really things at all but my family and friends who were all safely tucked away in their respective homes.

At the end of the day, it is not the material possessions that define us or make us whole. I mean, don’t get me wrong those things are very nice to have and I find great pleasure in a well crafted bag or shoe, but at the end of the day it is my family, friends and a warm meal that makes me truly happy – that defines who I am.

After about 10 minutes Xtian returns. Turns out it was just false alarm but the fire department was being extra cautious because you just never know. He went back to working and I went back to cooking with the added realization that that fateful false alarm ended up being a good reminder of what really is important in my life.

This post is dedicated to my family and friends…who ALWAYS keep it real.

*I don’t own a blinged out Rolex, or any other watch for that matter, though I am obsessed with the tackiness of gold blingy Rolexes and thus want one.

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.

Happy New Year!!!

To quote Montel...this is how we do it in the Train household

Hello my dear blogger faithful,

I promise to be back next week with my regularly scheduled programming of my latest romps that may or may not include vodka, ear muffs, blasts from the past and realizing I am an academic idiot. But tonight I wanted to take the time to wish you a very merry New Year.

Hope your nights are filled with laughter, love and whatever else fills your heart’s desire. Here is to a fantastic 2009, ching ching! May we all keep our sanity, our jobs and our blogs.

XOXO,
Gravy Train


This blog is dedicated to Xtian and his fascination for champange that he even bought me my very own bottle for tonight that sports my last name.

Merry Christmas (Kwanza, Chanukah, or whatever else you celebrate)

Hi Ya'll,

I wanted to take a few minutes out of celebrating the birth of Baby Jesus (I personally rejoice the occasion by drinking soy eggnog*, eating tamales and DDRing it...Baby J would have wanted it that way) to wish you and yours a very Merry Dec. 25. May your lives be filled with lots of love, friends, peace and booze...that last one is very important I think.

Love,
Gravy Train

This post is dedicated to treadmills…Lordeh knows we will need them after the holidays.

*No health quips…I can’t drink regular dairy

Ain't No Future in Yo Frontin'

My dearest YZA just sent me this fantastic little morsel of news that is just too good to pass up.

Apparently, according to well informed sources, 4 out of 5 Housewives of Hotlanta are broke*.

Say it with me kids...O.M.G.

I feel conned and betrayed like the time that YZA told me that Milli Vanilli were lip syncers**.

This post is dedicated to fact checking

*I don't mean to make light of other people's economic woes (we all have them during this wretched economic time) but what DOES bother me is that many of these ladies did think of themselves above EVERYONE.

** This may or may not be true, but I kinda want to say it is.