Parking Wars

So I might have yelled at a grandma the other day. I might have called her a bitch, and told her to go fuck herself and then play in traffic. I might have a bit of road rage. I might not give a shit because I did grandma a favor. I mean, if she seriously thinks she can get away with the parking lot shenanigans she pulled with me last night, she's in serious trouble this holiday season.

First, let's go over some parking lot ground rules.

1. Please use your blinker to indicate that you're waiting on a spot.


2. Please pull as far to the right as possible so that other cars can get around you while you wait.


3. If you're going to slowly drive behind someone while they walk through the lot, ask them if they're actually going to leave. Not doing so is just plain creepy.


4. Once you've passed a space, do not back up. Deal with it, and continue to wait patiently.

Last night I stopped at Joann's Fabric on the way to my work event. I pulled into the small, horribly designed lot, and holy crikey was it packed. I was actually still sitting with the ass end of my car out on Lincoln Blvd, that is how crowded the parking lot was. So I'm sitting, and I'm waiting. The car in front of me, obviously frustrated, austin-powered around to get out of the lot. So I'm thinking, "Sweeeet, one less person for me to wait on."

I pull in so I'm not blocking the sidewalk, and luckily a woman walks out her car, the spot at the end of the parking lot. Yes, this could not work out any better. Oh I thought too soon. Crazy Grannie (who's waiting at the top of the lot) throws her car into reverse, skidding into a stop, blocking the car who's trying to leave. Then she sticks her had to wave me along. Excuse me? EXCUSE ME! I sat, didn't move, kept my blinker on. The lady trying to leave starts honking her horn. I'm all, "Dude, I'm not the one blocking your exit."

Crazy Grannie is all, "Well I'm not moving, I've waited 30 minutes for a spot."

Please see my diagram if you're having problems visualizing the situation.

Me, better the bigger person and all, decides to leave, but not without unleashing the fury on Botox Babs. This Christmas season, I hope she runs into her friend Silicone Sally who drives a Range Rover while trying to park at The Grove.

A Secret Admirer?

Yesterday evening I decided to bike up to Main Street and get a mani pedi before meeting all of our friends out for the night.  It was just a tad chilly, the sun was shining, an absolutely perfect solo jaunt on little Miss Betsy (that's my bike's name.)  Walking out of the nail salon, I decided that I needed to move my bike closer to the bar area of Main Street, a couple blocks down.  In my basket, I found this...

Hi my name is Will and you rode by me today and I thought you looked so beautiful that I wanted to introduce myself...But you went into a shop before I could make a fool of myself.  I don't know how to convince you to call me, so I will leave it up to chance.  So...you can flip the coin to see if you should call...If not just know someone noticed the "light" around you!

So I'm thinking, really?  The only person I remember making eye contact with before walking inside was a father out for ice cream with his little girl and wife.  If he wasn't in the immediate area where I parked, how far did he follow me for, and how did I not notice that I was being followed?  

All creepiness aside, that little note was quite the confidence builder.  I would have called if it weren't for the coin business.  Yes, he left a quarter in the note.  I wonder if he knows he just paid for a third of a load of laundry?  

Da obviously found the notion romantic or at least intriguing enough to text the fellow, "My friend is taken, however I have a light of my own."

His response, "Not surprised!  Love is always worth risking something for though!  lucky guy...I hope it is awesome for her...Good thoughts and thanks for writing to tell me."

Dude does not even realize the hotness of Da that he just missed out on.  

Yes, I was on the booze last night.  No, I did not blackout.  I did however, have a rough time getting started on the bike ride home.  Maybe I did need that burrito.  

Summer Lovin'

I feel I've proclaimed summer is upon us about five times already this year, but here I am again. The first proclamation happened when a car full of high school stoners got arrested on my stoop for hot boxing their car on Venice Blvd. Smart. The second when Robyn came into town, bringing warm breezes and the return of Sunday Funday. The third, our first trip of '08 to Big Dean's and the return of live music on the pier. I was wrong on all occasions. This past weekend was the official start of summer in Venice.

Why now?

One, I went swimming this weekend. In the ocean. At night. With the dog. Obviously alcohol was involved.

Two, Da planned our first Venice to Santa Monica Bar Cycle of the summer. Started at the Whaler, hit Baja, Bar Jota (potty and beer break), James Beach, then Bitburger, Big Dean's, and King's Head. Please see my twitter for random, drunken updates.

Three, Sunday Funday has returned in full force. Le Deb calls on her way to the beach, "Uh, are you home? (pause) OK, good. Can I stop by to use your bathroom? Yeah, I'm like right outside."

After watching the Wizards lose to the Cavs, Jota and I made our way to the beach (south of the big guard tower). It seemed that every 15 minutes or so, someone new showed up. By the end of the day we had about 10 chairs, and 10 blankets sprawled across the sand along with beach toys and gossip mags.

Four, it was fucking hot out. Like 90 hot. It's April people. Venice only gets two or three super hot days a summer, and that's usually in July or August. Jota came home from band practice last night to me, sprawled on the couch in boy shorts and a tank with the fan on high. Even Duff was too hot to snuggle; he was passed out under the coffee table.

Five, I ate the most disgusting shit all weekend. Quesadilla for lunch on Sat, burger and fries for dinner. At least ten beers, one mojito. Smoothie (yeah!) and a Choco Taco for breakfast Sunday. Another burger and fries for dinner with two beers. At least I did Cindy and pilates this weekend. Officially on a detox this week.

Weekend in Review

Since this was our first weekend in April without guests, Jota and I planned on taking it easy. Thursday night I ended up at the gym for nearly two hours with LM. Crazy girl, but she's keeping me on track. Was going to hit happy hour at Sonny McLean's, but was happy to hear Jota wasn't up for it.

Friday was quite the busy one in the office, but I luckily escaped before 7:00pm. Amazing. My first out before 8:30pm on a Friday night in over a month! Score! Came home, made dinner, and hung out with Jota. Nice early night.

On Saturday, Jota had to jet to work for Mahalo Idol. I might have wanted to audition. Ok, I really wanted to audition. But didn't want to get the job only because I was shacking up with Jota Extraordinaire. I ended up chilling with Duff, watched The Princess Diaries 2, then eventually got showered in time for Jota to come home and chill on the stoop with me. Jetted up to Kel and Da's for some old fashioned grilling out. The ladies made delicious looking portobello mushroom burgers, grilled asparagus, and tasty veggie kebobs. There was lots of wine. And Corona. And Newcastle. Eww. And that's sadly all I remember.

Sunday was painful. We planned on spending the day at the Santa Monica Pier for the Green Apple Festival. Made it up there around 4ish? Got some new sneaks at the Promenade, and rallied to have some super sized beers at Big Deans. Missed Ziggy perform, but I heard he sucked and only played four songs. Biking home with the wind and cold was no fun. But I got some unintentional exercise in. Woot woot! Snagged some Chipotle on the way over to Drew and Liz's so the boys could have band practice. Watched Juno with Michelle and Liz, and practically pissed my pants laughing. I can't believe I hadn't seen it! And Jason Bateman, while I do love you, even I was creeped out with your sketchy, dirty old man character.

Recovering, Barely

Just dropped Byn off at the airport for her trip back home to Tampa.  Really wish she would just pack her shit up and move out here.  It's great having someone around other than Jota that I can be my 100% obnoxious and bratty self without having to feel apologetic.  I mean, I'm not always super bitchy; it's just nice to be understood and not judged for it sometimes.  

Seriously hurting this afternoon though.  We somehow thought it would be a great idea to sit on the stoop last night with the neighbors and  drink three bottles of champagne, and ten beers.  And that was just for us. Needless to say, but I'm going to say it anyways, I have some serious working out to do this week in order to get myself back on track. 

I didn't set a goal for April, so I will now.  Two goals.  Big time.  One, I want to be able to wear a size 28 pant.  My weight loss is slowing, but I'm definitely losing inches now.  Sweet!  Two, I need to get my ass in gear to train for the Santa Monica Classic that I'm running on May 4th.  I want to run the entire 5k.  It may not sound too hard, but I have serious troubles running a mile on the treadmill.      

Dating Cindy Crawford

Feeling lazy? Need that extra push? Go buy this workout DVD. My arms are so sore, putting on eyeshadow and mascara was a major accomplishment this morning. I'm planning on having a weekly date night with Cindy when Jota is at band practice or has a soccer game. No way I'm letting him see me flopping around the house doing lunges with kicks.

Speaking of the band, the boys played at Rusty's Surf Ranch on the Santa Monica Pier last night. Good times. I'm thinking Sunday Funday this summer is going to start at Big Dean's.