Black Eyed Orientation

I found some concealer in my boxes of stuff in the garage. I am not used to the pancake makeup thing, but thank God I had some to cover up my black eye and scraped cheek. It is getting a little better, but I still feel weird. Tomorrow is my first day at the Del Mar location and I am going in for the orientation ala explanation: I am NOT a battered woman, just a clumsy tom boy who is obsessed with wearing pink. First day on the job, what a first impression!

I am not sure what has come over me...you know, I never liked the color before. But now I can't leave the house without wearing it. Pink purse, high heels, dresses, skirts, earrings, sunglasses...I tell you I nauseate myself even! Must be a backlash from living with boys for two years. I am officially a chick! Woohoo! I will seek the balance at some point as I realized every single thing I wore yesterday was a variant of pink.
Anyways, Juliet, I count you as one of the founding members of the Socal sect of the Chicks For Chest Hair Coalition. Hide those scissors from Michael and let the chest-fest begin! "Curly and black like a Welcome Mat!!" Outee-Steph

FROLIC: the ensuing aftermath and more!

Greetings from vicodin land. It is I, the bruised and sometimes brilliant midnight adventurer, Stephanie. These past few weeks have reopened my eyes to an exciting and dangerous world full of possibility. Possibility has transformed into the strangest realities I have yet experienced here on the edge of the world. So I sit here crosslegged at the computer, chai tea steaming, body aching through a thin veil of vicodin, mind reeling, and listening to the rats rattling the leaves in the palms outside.
Yesterday started out as most days do in my life...fresh and hectic. I finished the details on a commissioned painting and rushed to drop it off and meet up with Teresa. She and Nick are visitng from Wisconsin and staying near Irvine. We had wonderful secret off-menu pizza at CPK (thanks Dalila...it rules!) and I made plans with the cutie guy who works there to meet up later on. So life was sweet as I showed Teresa (aka T-Dog) around and we slurped mango smoothies while strolling Laguna Beach. I think this is the last picture taken of me with a normal face. I will proceed and then you'll know why I look like I got into a knarly bar fight.
After a glorious garlic fest dinner at PF Changs with T-dog and Nick, I met up with Cutie CPK Guy and went out for a drink and some adventure. First I must say that it was a rare and wonderful thing to be around someone who has such positive energy, brains, and also such yummy good looks. And chest hair. Don't forget that. But I will try and stay focussed here on the more important details of our evening. I told you in my last posting here that I wanted to hear from all of you who want to come out and "frolic" with me. So guess where I end up having my first date with Aaron? Yeah, a bar called Frolic. Total irony for me, yeah? Well anyways, we bar hopped to the Pen and then last call was given. So I get this great idea to show Aaron the rope swing in the BMX park across the street. And that is where my night took a turn for the worse.
This old tree has a rope tied to a two foot stick, like a trapeez. The idea is that you run down this ramp of dirt and make a circular swing out over the little ravine and then twist in time to catch yourself running back on land. I have done it many times before, and felt pretty damn confident that this was a cool idea. Aaron swung out first and proclaimed "This doesn't seem very safe." Whoa! Did I stop there and think it over? No siree! I grasped that rod and took my best running leap out into the dark, reaching what he claims to have been at least 9 feet in the air. That is when my hand slipped. My body was flung to earth like a rag doll face first into the abyss. And as I struggled to compose myself and find the pieces of my shattered ego (and to make sure I didn't lose any teeth or break any bones) I made horrible grunting noises while trying to catch my breath. Folks, it was ugly. So I squatted there for a couple of minutes while we both assessed the situation and I sat there covered in dirt. It began to be very funny, but I was still feeling very foolish and uncoordinated. There are some other cute details, but that is for me to know and you to..not know. Unless you were there.
We hailed a cab and after a few smokes, a shot of jack, a couple of icepacks, huge ibuprofens, rubbing alcohol, and the necessary cleansing of my dirt-infested wounds, we watched some Goonies and it was a very wonderful evening. Aside from my black eye, my huge inflamed scraped cheek, my strained wrists, my gigantic ugly hip bruise that is KNAR-ly big, and two scraped knees, a very wonderful evening. And one more thing: a great and weird fist date.
So onto my last topic for the evening, I am inviting all chest hair enthusiasts such as myself to join my Call for Manhood: Chicks For Chest Hair. Depending on response, I intend to form a retaliation against the extinction of one of lifes greatest manly assets. The soft, luxurious, clean, wonderful thing we women miss and don't even realize. Hairy chested men, stand and be proud! Squirt some delicious cologne into that crevasse between your pecs and make us happy to snuggle! Brrrrr! Brrrr! BRRRRR! All silliness aside, of course, I am going to make tshirts. Mel and I have discussed possible slogans such as "It's always better with a sweater" and "Long and soft, don't shave it off!" I am also open for suggestions on this, and hope to regain the momentum of the Magnum P.I. days in the 70's. Come on girls, let's appreciate what real men have to offer and not these prepubescent waxed boy-chests so prevalent in todays metrosexual society. Yeah.
Okay, well, now you know how life is going here. And don't worry, I am going to tone it down now for awhile. While the bruises heal and the dust settles. Shit.
G-night.

So friends, at this late hour I retire to my softy bed and listen to the alluring and mysterious band of choice...Sigur Ros. Fucking amazing etherial shit. I had more wonderful adventures this evening, meeting new friends and hanging out on the beach with Dave. We broke into some random beach house for kicks and stole four beers, one water, one diet cherry vanilla diet coke, and lastly had a rush of adrenaline that fricken junkies would appreciate. I coulda run a marathon, or lifted a car off a baby or some shit. I am spent, just wanted to say hello. Peace. Me

Could life have anymore drama?

So last night was the weirdest, longest night of my life. It started innocently enough with plans to see the Dan Band in L.A. Right. And this is where the rollercoaster begins.
So it is 4pm and I am late from an interview with Ruth's Chris Del Mar. (The interview went well..) BUT it was Friday evening and I needed to make it to LA by 8pm. Thinking I had enough time, I hopped in my big yellow truck and wallowed in triple nipple rush hour traffic for 4 hours. But I listened to old Beatles and made it out in a pretty decent mood. THEN I got lost in the city and was driving around with three sets of bad directions. This is where I started thinking about crying (but didn't because I didn't want to look like a raccoon) and my phone kept cutting out. Who knew fricken Hollywood could be so hard for me to find. The big sign with all the lights...I looked for it.

My friends all bailed out on the concert, so it left me alone meeting up with my work buddy. I asked Ashley Simpson for directions to the club on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, didn't even care that it was Ashley Simpson, and then made it for the final 4 songs. That is when we had a (my first)shot of Jager and WORK BUDDY fell on the floor. All these people are sitting around cocktail tables and this dude is tripping out on some shit. Not just your normal shot of Jager. Keep in mind we've never hung out alone together before. Then the glaze-eyed gibberish started, followed by a "I have to go to the bathroom, be right back". This was followed by an eternity (twenty minutes) and then a phone call. He left. Me. Alone in a club in Hollywood. After all this shit. Can you say "NOT going to hang out EVER again?!" This guy....RRRR!(Not a love interest anyways, don't worry). So I am all dressed up and I have been in the club for literally 30 minutes. So much wasted energy. I headed home, and met up with some friends at a club in Huntington. Danced my pants off with one of the hottest guys ever (my old neighbor who is a personal trainer and former exotic male dancer) and had a total blast. So at 2am I decided-WAIT! Alas! The night cannot be over! And then the third leg of my evening began down in La Jolla, another hour south. I changed attire from sexy black dress to ragamuffin hippy-chic and headed for Blacks Beach. This beach is also a nude beach, by the way.(Never been, think I will try it and bring my mace!) But last night was the full moon celebration put on by a sect of the Rainbow Gathering tribe of urban new age hippies. My good friend Alec turned me on to the drumcircle.
Are you still with me? It was awesome, once I stumbled down a fifty foot cliff barefoot and walked a mile to get to the campsite alone in the dark. Now it was about 4am and I found myself dancing wildly (and fully clothed, mind you) around a huge bonfire with a beautiful girl and about ten people drumming and a hundred more scattered around singing and sleeping and being hippies. It was awesome! I had so much fun and my legs are going to fall off from all the dancing in the club, in the sand, climbing the cliffs! That is the best kind of workout ever. So I just made it home to wash of my stank and sand from sleeping on the beach....thought you should know all about it. And live vicariously through me for a moment or five. Phew! Yeah, I like this wild adventure crap, ya know! Anyways, anybody ready to cavort and gallavant and frolic please let me know. Alec, you've scored some major points with all the fun lately. You BUSKER!! Anyways, Peace Out Y'all.

The Mysterious Death of the Rabbitt

After work last night I drove the long hour home from Irvine. I felt a twitch in my pants, the kind of twitch that is a side effect of owning the rabbitt. I fought the urge to run straight into my room, seize that purple pearl infested wand and go to town. Instead I pretended that I wanted to read, check my email, and play a little guitar very, very quietly. See it was the midnight hour, and I was full of distraction. After the nighttime ritual of face cleansing, tongue scraping, teeth brushing, etc. I found myself in the dark, staring blindly at the ceiling and unable to sleep. Maybe just a little hit of the rabbitt will knock me out, I thought. Like a junkie, I searched for my little pretend boyfriend amongst the many boxes and suitcases that I live out of currently. There, it was right where I left it. But something was very, very wrong. It was nearly severed at the base from the battery pack! AAHHH! I couldn't believe it...and I couldn't comprehend the horror of what I realized next. Either (A) My little baby cousins who are 7 and 10 found this thing while rifiling through my stuff and broke it (B) Someone else (the maid? the gardener?) found it buried in three layers of clothes and towels under four other suitcases or (C) It was a lousy piece of shit for $104.50 and I was too rough with it last time. But the thing is shattered...literally looks like it was dropped on cement. I feel this disturbing cloud of suspicion and aim to investigate who killed my Rabbitt!!!

Unfortunately it reminds me of a story not unlike this one, but set in the rural community of Brighton, Michigan about five years ago. That story will remain untold, but it was a case of the "Disappearing Dildo" that reminded me to look under my own roof before doubting myself in this investigation. Young curious children, beware the dark side of your houseguest! Eww, how violating anyways.

In other news, I have an interview at the Del Mar location of Ruth's Chris and I think I am going to make the transfer for the time being. It has been a tearing sensation in many regards, but I look to my other friends who have recently moved..(shout out to Dalila and Gina) and I see that maybe the new place and a new scene could benefit my personal growth. Plus getting a break from the OC life may just unveil this new side of me-tender, confident, laid back, using my turn signal. You know, no more rat race and stuff. I am really enjoying getting to know my cousins as well. So it seems like a good move. My sister has told me pipe dreams about moving out here after Christmas and joining forces!! So the initial plan is to save money and wait for her to come to me...then we can journey together to some exotic location. (Like Norcal...) and figure it out from there. I would like to eventually live in the Big Sur/Carmel area. God it is gorgeous! These expansive vistas and crests of green mountain line the coast and sweeping back from the shore are bursts of crimson and ochre and fuschia colored foliage. It is the kind of beauty that humbles you, fills your lungs with a grateful breath, and aches to be captured on canvas or film. So that is what draws me, and hopefully Amanda will feel the same once I reveal it to her. Horses and winding trails and beautiful trees with foggy inlets and moss covered boulders lining the sea. I can't wait! Maybe a hot dude with lots of black chest hair, too. Bonus!

Musically Inclined at Midnight

Anybody know any good dead on guitar music sites? I am ready to use this little dusty old Epiphone Dot and rock out!! And I will be able to post some pictures soon too, so you can feel the magic. Or just have a weird visual of me "rocking out" by myself, no mic, no amp, just quiet time after midnight. Okay, that's all. Nighty night.

Oh Yeah...

I forgot to tell you that I will be going to two shows in L.A. this friday and next. I am gonna see the DAN BAND and then the CRYSTAL METHOD. Saah-WEEEEET!

Monday Night Musings

Back in the Carlsbad house after three days of working and wandering. Yes, karaoke was involved, plus a really bad duet involving Salt N Pepa...aka Bambi and Stephanie. I wish I could rap, even bad early 90's rap. Nope, beneath this tan and my fake black hair lies a white woman from the corn fed region of the midwest-who should NOT talk about sex, baby. Or any song like that! No amount of beer can change it. Ahh, the trauma! SO anyways, things haven't gotten to the point where I am in need (per se) of the audio journal. The idea of audioblogging just about made me wet with delight. Thanks Mike! Yeah, I have been doing just fine. I don't have any real excitement to report other than I popped a huge zit and it was really satisfying. And you guys rule. Love ya, Steph

Plan Of Attack

1. Regain the philosophy of "my body is a temple". A pagan ritualistic temple, or a mormon temple. You decide.
2. Detox my body 6 days a week and do yoga. Combat this with one night a week partying my brains out.
3. Melissa's standpoint-NO CARBS! (I'll just eat bread and butter for dinner.)
4. Try to cry out all toxic emotions relating to boys. Then find a new one to cry over eventually.
5. Write a song about this time in my life and use the word "castrate" at least once.
6. Find a good old fashioned kilted man and run down the beach at midnight. Preferably bald, depressed, and tatooed.
7. Reinstate the almighty "audio journal" much to the dismay of anyone who has ever lived with me, past and present.
8. Get really buff
9. Take over San Diego! Meow!
10. Become a raging flirt (again) and remember how to be single.

Thailand Delight in L.A.

I sent Melissa off to Ohio yesterday and had some time to kill during rush hour. Plus after having a constant companion for the last two weeks I had no idea how to be alone again. (Wow, was that truthful or what?!) So I headed immediately for companionship in the nearest place hoping to evade as much traffic as possible. One large diet coke, one very full bladder, and one hour long one mile drive later I arrived in Hollywood to see Justin. Well, barely see him as I skidded out of my car and streaked into his bano. But after I was able to form complete sentences and walk without hopping, we sat on his porch and had a few beers. It was very relaxing, I must say. I made false promises to cut his roommate's hair and we ducked out for some Thai food down in....drumroll please..Thai Town. (Think Greek Town with lots of shiny stuff and no flaming cheese). We rolled up to this really classy joint that was clearly the place to be last night and found ourselves awash in traditional smells, food, live lounge music...and FRUITY DRINKS complete with umbrellas. It was the kind of meal that made you giggle like a little kid. The tables were high and the chairs really low so your face was close to the table top. I felt like I was at a tea party in Alice in Thai-Wonderland. Justin and I slurped our delicious cocktails and were serenaded by a live lounge singer, crooning to us in a strange tongue. It sounded like whining over elevator music, but I liked it anyways. I will give the evening four stars. And make em shiny ones at that!

San Diego: City of Dreams and Dongs

Not like I have had much time to dream...more like a coma where my sleeping corpse lays in a dark room and my liver churns out toxic stuff made of Jager and champagne and sushi and a cornucopia of other lovely ingredients. But we really did have an excruciatingly fun time in the city this weekend. A good dose of "blowing off steam" in the form of wearing all black, sipping grey goose dirty martini's with our pinky fingers extended... dancing, and yes, a trip to the ADULT SUPERSTORE. So at 3 a.m. we (not naming names, you know who you are..) were cavorting in the aisles of plastic dongs and Melissa's giving us her best porn shop retail schtick...let's just say that $209 later we were back in the cab, speeding toward home. The cabbie was thrilled. And I guess we were too. Now I have heard about these "rabbit" things, but never had the pleasure of owning one. Well, guess I will be doing just fine now. Yep! Jzzzust fizzzzne.

We recovered the next day with a bloody mary and a greasy burger at the Waterfront, San Diego's oldest pub. And besides the scary guy missing a tooth trying to hit on us, it was delish! The night was finished with about 43 reruns of Sex in the City (nod to Lori) and pizza with real coke. It doesn't get much sweeter than that! So all in all, I think this heartbreak stuff might be under control for a little while. Juliet (my other Socal cousin) took us sailing in the bay tonight for sunset and it was amazing. I also had the pleasure of gay-mexican food with Jenny and Curty Dog so it has been one hell of a weekend. We met up in Hillcrest, the gay district, and the poor waitress couldn't figure out what was going on there...Mel was scratching my back, Jenny holding my hand, Curtis kissing Jenny's cheek...it was a riot. So while we are discussing Jenny's wedding (I am the maid of honor) I reveal my latest horrifying discovery..... last summer I hugged Mel in her wedding dress and spilled a bloody mary down the back of her train. AND DIDN'T FIND OUT UNTIL TODAY!!!!! You bastards, you should have called me out. Man, I am a loser. I think I need a drink....hehehe..see you guys? It is like my blog contains the circle of life or something. Nerd Nerd Nerd, I'm out.

Puberty Sucked Last Time

So today is my first day as a real woman. And I do mean woman. Free and single and living on the coast of California. It struck me as a good idea to document from this point of my life and on to the next abyss where I fall in love and resurface only twice a year until death. But all heartbreak aside, it feels like I am a pimply faced twelve year old realizing that a whole new reality is unfolding much to my amazement and horror. I am sure the horror part will subside in a few days. Three margies and a few good songs later I am sure it will be the best idea I never had. But after two years of something I thought was love, I now feel strangely at peace with the absolute variety of directions life could take. And I will take a few good memories along for the ride, too.
Melissa came to my rescue and flew out to LA to help me make sense of the mass exodus-my two bunnies (Capt. Jack and Bunaroo) and my tortoise (Toogie) and the scraps left of my heart (wahhhhh..!) and bundles of musical instruments and spiced teas and paints and art and gypsy clothes. Need to air out the appropriate attire for a "nomadic goddess" type lifestyle again. Having Mel around certainly helps the process, and we have been having a great time despite the reason she came. I am now landing in Carlsbad which is south of Huntington Beach by about an hour. My cousins have taken me in for awhile and who knows what is next. But I have computer access now, and that is what matters. Bloggity blog blog blog.