Best Friend Adventures

Life is always an adventure when it comes to my biffle Cori. I think she is probably my oldest friend, and one of the only people I still talk to from those dreaded middle school/ high school years. That alone should say how pretty freaking awesome she is. After high school we traveled our separate ways to college, and it has been five years since we have been in the same town together, so it's obvious that some real craziness needs to happen. Apparently we have been making up for those lost years, because since I have been back we have been hanging out ALOT, and when Cori is involved, good times are sure to ensue. So far she has made my move to LA feel like the right decision, and the fun has only just begun.

Yesterday, feeling fun and adventurous, we decided to ride our bikes around Balboa Lake. The fact that I am not the most practiced bicycle rider should probably have been my first red flag. Let's just say for the safety of the cars on the road, it is much better that I ride my bike on the sidewalk. You would think that as a twenty three year old, I should be able to ride my bike pretty steadily, but in my case we can just say the "wobbling" is part of my charm. Despite this important factor, I decided to be spontaneous and power through. I borrowed my Dad's truck and I got ready to go pick up Cori and her bike. When I arrived at Cori's house, I realized that we both had very different ideas of what this bike ride was going to be like, let's go ahead break it down:

Lauren: thinking this was going to be an exercising opportunity, I put on running shorts, a tank top and my running shoes. What else would you go bike riding in? I threw my wet hair into a single french braid, for obvious practicality: staying out of my face, but not interfering with safety of wearing a helmet. I also put together a bag with a bottle of water, sunscreen, chaptstick, and the other essentials like phone, keys, etc. I threw my purple mountain bike in the bed of the truck and zoomed off to pick Cori up. I find her on the corner of her block as follows:

Cori: Standing there with her electric blue beach cruiser, my dear friend has on a slinky black summer dress, rainbow sandals, curly voluptuous hair, and a little side purse. And no helmet. WHAT!? (can we just reiterate for one moment that my hair is in a single french freaking braid.) Did I miss the memo, is there some sort of hot guy biking convention happening, was I supposed to dress to impress? Not to mention as we get later into the ride, we find out that in her side purse she has lip gloss and breath mints, all the practical items for a bike ride. I think she may have had a minor lapse in clear judgement, and forgot that we actually don't live in a cute beach town like Venice. I don't think the Balboa Lake crowd is really an appropriate pool to fish for men. But hey, that's just my opinion. I have been wrong before. (it's rare, but possible.)

Although my little bag was packed with a girl scout's "always be prepared" mentality, one thing I did forget to put in what Cori so fondly called my "man satchel," was an extra tube for my tire. I think on normal bike excursions this precaution is not usually necessary, except when your tire pops less than halfway through the five mile journey. Which mine did. Obviously. It's okay though, we weren't really looking forward to bike riding, what we really wanted to do was to go bike walking. I mean Cori was so appropriately dressed for that sort of activity. And thank god for those breath mints, they really kept us going.

And so went my walk of shame, with my butch braid and man satchel, pushing my flat tired bike all the way back to the car.

Lesson Learned: get a full bike tune up ASAP. Dress cuter when "working out" with my best friend. But none the less, even when things don't go according to plan they can still be hysterically fun. As long as you're in good company.

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old adventures in Tuscon

LA LA LA

Welp. I officially graduated college. Well, I officially wore the cap and gown and received my official "upon final review of your application you will receive your diploma" letter. So now I'm just sitting with my fingers crossed waiting for the grades to roll in. I'm pretty positive I'll be okay but sending some luck my way couldn't hurt.

So now what do I do? I guess it's time to start progressively growing up right? Well like most things in my life I'm gonna procrastinate on that small detail just a little bit longer. That's right in a weekish I am reverting back to my childhood and moving back in with good ole Mom and Dad. I'm sick of paying bills, hunting people down for rent, and fixing things. I have re lit the pilot light in the water heater, stuck my hand down the garbage disposal, and reset the fuse box way too many times. So now I think I am gonna to take a break. Next time something sparks and then explodes I'm gonna sit back and shout, "Daaaaaaaaad!" I heard that was the magic word to get things fixed, I'm just itching to see if it works. (Oh Dad, I can already see your smirk and hear your scoff as you read this. Don't pretend you're not excited to have me hanging around the house all the time.)

I'm pretty stoked for this new roommate situation. I think it's gonna work out real well. I'll just be happy to have food in the house with regularity, and the occasional home cooked meal. It takes very little to please me. I have even been upgraded from the library to the guestroom. Which is great because I don't think my college degree was going to provide me with the appropriate credentials to manage my parents book collection. The Dewey Decimal system always confused me. I doubt they'll let me forget that my new room is actually the guestroom though. Pretty sure they don't want me getting too attached to living there. I'll try not to, but I can't promise they won't get too attached to me. I am pretty awesome.

Luckily this time when it came to moving , my Dad and brothers were able to come up and help me out. The last time I moved I had to fend for myself and I think four girls with a 24 foot U-Haul in San Francisco is explanation enough for why it was imperative I get some help this time around. Unfortunately my Dad was here last weekend for graduation, so he only wanted to stay until Tuesday. This means that all of my stuff, with the exception of two suitcases and a mattress topper has been gone since Monday night. So for the rest of the week I am inhabiting in what my roommates so fondly call a crack den. My life is nothing if not thrilling.

I am excited to embark on a new adventure in a new (old) place, meet new people, and try different things. It's clear that a change of scenery is something I really need, but I am really sad to be leaving this city. It will always have a piece of my heart and I think that's collateral enough to keep coming back. (DANIELLE!) It hasn't even hit me that I'm really leaving. I have been so caught up in finishing school, packing, cleaning, and dealing with my job that this whole past week has been a blur. Even though I have lifted box after box and donated all my furniture to Salvation army, it still feels like I am just heading home for summer break and eventually I'll be back. I am sure that once I am home, possibly unemployed, and with what will seem like an endless amount of unpacking, the sadness will probably set in. I'll have to find something to keep my mind off of thinking about it too much.

So for now, it's a weekend filled with 22 and a half hours of work, cleaning, and tying up all the loose odds and ends. Then it's up early Monday morning for one last decent down the lovely I-5. (I'm excited to hit all my favorite gas station bathrooms, unfortunately I'll be way to early for Sonic slushie happy hour.Which is even MORE collateral for making a trip back!) But don't worry San Francisco, even though I am heading back to the land where people talk like me, I'll be visiting before you know it!

Thanks for showing me a hella good time. <3

Vacation All I Ever Wanted...

so i am going on a little vacation. (and by vacation, i mean going back to LA for a week or so). anyway, whilst i was putting all my stuff together i came to a rather shocking conclusion: i may be the worst packer in the world. and here is why:

1. I Like to Pack Sporadically Over a Few Days.
Pro: allows me to do other things at the same time, and also breaks up the tedious task into more enjoyable spurts. it also allows me to get excited for the "vacation" three days earlier, since i am officially in the packing time period.

Con: i never remember what i packed the days earlier. by the time i get around to the third day, i'm frantically throwing in t-shirts because i have a slight inkling that i packed an awful lot of shorts the day before. which leads to my next problem:

2. Over Packing.
Pro: i have lots of clothes to chose from, which is especially helpful because i am so indecisive. how am i supposed to know exactly what mood i am going to be in each day? so now i have options and i can pick my outfits according to how i feel.

Con: the fact that i have an entire carry-on sized rolling suitcase dedicated solely to the shoes i am bringing home for the week probably says it best.

3. Disorganization
Pro: it was easy just throwing everything into the suitcase.

Con: i'm sure everything i want to wear on the first day is at the bottom of the suitcase, therefore causing a bomb to go off in the over packed case, which most likely will not get better and only worse over the course of the vacation. sometimes its difficult to find things when you're digging through an explosive mess of clothing. obviously my excessive laziness has prohibited me from learning from this mistake.

4. Oh Yeah....I Forgot...
Pro: forgetting things allows me to... challenge my creativeness.... and make outfits work with what i have??? yeah right, this is all con...

Con: no matter what, i always forget something. and it's always like the core of every outfit idea i have. like my favorite boots, or black belt. or something really important like a toothbrush or spanx. i'll usually remember this item when i am halfway through the journey down, and then i'll literally kick myself.

With the combination of these four problems, I'll end up in LA tomorrow, sitting in my room, exclaiming: "What the EFF did I pack?!" was that sequined mini skirt really a necessity? or that button up shirt I have never worn? yeah, both must of been packed on optimistic day one. thank god i used day two to throw in some practical jeans and sweaters. then i'll throw on one of those day three frantic tshirts, only to find that i didn't in fact over pack shorts the day before....

take me out to the ball game

baseball has got to be my least favorite sport. i don't play it well, and i don't really enjoy watching it either, so it makes total sense when my brothers invited me to go to the dodger game, i willingly agreed...right? anyway this is how the situation played out:

first i get a phone call:
"yo Lauren, wanna go to the dodger game tomorrow?"
"uh, yeah i guess that sounds cool, i don't have anything else to do."
pause...then me again,
"wait, are we gonna stay the whole game?"
"yeah probably"
"oh okay, well i guess i'll still go."

cut to the next morning:
i'm putting together my purse, including a book and a magazine, i mean what else am i going to do for nine freaking innings. i also pack some almonds, string cheese, and apple and a nectarine (i tend to get hungry, and ten dollar nachos and a eight dollar hot dog just aren't gonna keep me satisfied. i also grab a sweatshirt and a jacket, thinking i would be freezing, since the only baseball games i go to are in sf. my brothers pick me up and we head off....wooo dodgers!

so we get to the stadium, and we have saweet seats, like five rows back from first base, right behind the visitors dugout. i thought hey, maybe i could get into this. and we had three funny old guys sitting behind us, so i was enjoying the entertainment. after one inning i quickly realize, that it's more likely i am going to die of heatstroke than freeze to death, and am immediately regretting my abundance of jackets and lack of sunscreen. three more innings, NOTHING has happened, no one has scored, practically no one has gotten past first base, and i'm feeling a little pink. i trade my boredom for a dodger dog. yummmm, until about five minutes later, when i gladly would have taken my boredom back.

two and a half hours later and the phillies are up by one. it seems no one else is going to be scoring, until magically at the bottom of the ninth inning, the dodgers make a comeback, with an unexpected homerun to tie up the game. (with two outs). the next batter comes up, three strikes, he's out, and before i realize it we're into overtime in a tenth inning. oy. now i'm stuck, feeling the burn, seeing no end in sight and worst of all, i am completely out of snacks. nothing happens in ten, nothing happens in eleven, it seems as if nothing is going to happen in twelve...but thank god for andre ethier. seriously, that man is my hero. by the bottom of the twelfth i am RED RED RED, dehydrated, bored out of my mind, and preparing myself for another few lame innings when he hits a beautiful home run!! i stand up with so much enthusiasm and joy, i shock my own self, and just shout thank god. (i think those old men must have though i was a real big dodgers fan, because they cheerfully agreed with me, thank god they said too...they really were fans, i was just relieved to leave).

the lesson i have learned from this is, always bring sunscreen, and there must be a reason why everyone at baseball games are always drinking tons of beer. i might have to jump on THAT bandwagon to survive next time. at least i had something to write a blog about...

torn

i grew up in the san fernando valley, which is part of the greater los angeles area, and as said before has made the the valley girl you all know and love. when i got into san francisco state i couldn't wait to escape the bubble of self involved anorexia and explore new and different places. i was more than excited to experience life in a city, and if nothing else have an adventure for four years, to at least add to my cultural learning. when i first moved i always assumed i would go back to southern california eventually. i mean i loved the city and the atmosphere, but i am a product of suburbia, and i just couldn't imagine settling down without the possibility of having a front and back yard. but as life would have it, a semester into college and the girls i thought were my best friends decided they didn't want me in their lives anymore. the devastation made me determined to love san francisco even more. and as much as it kills me, i have to thank them for that. i spent the next year and a half throwing myself into the city life. i let go of my fear of public transportation and spent time exploring new parts and places in the city.

i learned about great places to go shopping, to eat, and to just have some fun. but more importantly i think i experienced true san franciscan culture. growing up in a bubble, it never occurred to me that moving to sf would not only be a location change, but it would introduce me to a whole new mentality. everyone is so much more relaxed and laid back. i didn't feel the same sort of pressure to be super skinny, or really tan, or tall and blonde. i was able to feel like i finally fit in somewhere and i truly enjoyed it. i think i really became myself. i realized how much i was censored in highschool, and so much of it was dictated to me by those so called friends. i'm a weird person, and i like that about myself, but it definitely took san francisco to bring it out.

i was in love, and it seemed like i was never going back to southern california. i mean how could you move back to the boring valley, when there was so much fun to be had in the city. and then this year happened. well really this semester. this has been the roughest semester i have had in college so far. i hurt my back three times, which sent me into a frenzy of discouragement and lack of motivation. i feel like every time i tried to get up, i just got shot back down. and sometimes quite literally. the stress of being an adult has finally consumed me, and i don't know what to do anymore. i've never wanted to move home more, in fact i've even considered transferring schools for my last three classes and just getting out as fast as i can. (probably fortunately, it's not possible). i don't think it's southern california i miss. i know it isn't. it's having someone to take care of me that is most appealing. i never thought i would say this, but i cannot wait to move back in with my parents. i'm sick of taking care of everyone, and i just want someone to take care of me. there's nothing like a semester of dragging yourself to doctors, arguing with health insurance, trying to make ends meet with a dead end job, fixing problems in the house, trying to get all the bills paid and worrying about passing your classes to make you want your mom again.

the mighty has fallen. (me being the mighty of course). and the path i am going to take to overcome it is still unclear. i really need a break from life, from everything really, so i can patch myself back up, but that seems next to impossible. i'm just trying to stick it out, but honestly, it breaks my heart to say it, i'm counting down the days til i can get that one way ticket out of the real world, and back to southern cali.

Oh My God!! Like Totally Gag Me With a Spoon!!

in middle school, i thought it would be the coolest thing in the world, if i actually used phrases from Frank Zappa's song "Valley Girl" in my real life. obviously there are a lot of problems with this, but the first i would like to clear up, is that i am an actual valley girl, born and raised. one time my brother's cousin (they're half brothers) came into town from nothern california and told me he was excited to go back to his friends and tell them he met a real live valley girl. at the time i didn't think anything of it, but looking back, that was probably a quiet slam against "my kind." i'll admit that the time in my life where i was like totally using like after like every sentence, and like referring to things like being totally like grody to the max, was definitely not one of my finer moments in history, but hey i was young and didn't know any better.

as i grew up the exaggeration of my valley girls speech shrank, and came what it is today. what i thought is a normal way of speaking. still living in the valley no one ever said anything about it, because that was how everyone spoke. that was the dialect that belonged to our community, and we all used it the same. surprisingly i even survived a year or two in san francisco where people never bothered me about it for the most part. maybe it was because i befriended a lot of people from southern california, more importantly other valley girls. (i wonder now if there was any rhyme or reason to that) anyway, it was not until recently that i have become completely fed up with all the flack people give me for the way i talk.

i came to san francisco because i hated the valley and i wanted out. i absolutely love it here, because it's beautiful, and accepting of all sorts of people, except southern californians i guess. i just don't understand how a group of people who say things like "hella" and "hyphy" all the sudden have the right to make fun of the way i speak. i understand that saying like often, and oh my god, is not one of the most elite ways of speaking, but that is how i learned to speak, and it is in no way wrong. i can't imagine how they think they sound less stupid saying they are "hecka tired" than someone saying they are "like totally tired." to me they sound one in the same.

also for clarification being a valley girl and being a snob are two completely different things. i may have grown up loving the mall, and not wanting to break nails etc, but i have never once been snobby towards someone. according to dictionary. com, a snob is "a person who imitates, cultivates, or slavishly admires social superiors and is condescending or overbearing to others." aka, i think you actually have to be popular to be a snob.just because you are a valley girl, most definitely does not make you popular. (which is a whole different post on its own). so please don't call me a snob. i do not appreciate it.

and just as a last fyi, there are a lot of people from southern california who do not consider themselves better than nothern californians. just some simple folk who want to fit in up in the north and enjoy the beautiful atmosphere.