Blonde Story Short

Much like every Tuesday night, I met my very favorite gals for dinner. After sharing a bottle of Chard over fish tacos, two of us decided to continue our night out in PB (stands for Pacific Beach, but "Pompous Bros" comes to mind as well). We ended up at a dive called Bub's, nothing but class, where all of 8 girls total, including us, were sharing a bar with many, many....PB's. Your standard encounters didn't keep us from stimulating discussions on life and an enjoyable Bud Light buzz. We had the lonely bar fly come up with two girly shots, inevitably explaining what they were called and what was in them (not wanting to make him feel like a total idiot I didn't tell him that his knowledge was no good here, and that I am what we call a bartender) so we politely took the fruit juice with a dash of vodka. He left quickly (much appreciated) and mumbled something about a pretty smile. Okay, thanks. Another few came up, attempted chatting yada yada. Although we

In an effort to start running, I hear it gets you in shape or something like that, I've decided to run the Carlsbad 1/2 marathon. Knowing myself pretty well, I am very aware that I have the ability to find every possible excuse NOT to run. "Serving on a beach is like running, I mean think of all the calories I burn carrying mai-tais through sand!" or "I don't need to run today...I skipped lunch!" So, to keep myself accountable, and so as not to keel over in public on the day of the shweaty event, I joined a running group. We meet on Saturday mornings at 7:30. Feel free to let out a gasp...that's right, 7:30...a.m. I played with the idea of raising my hand the first day and asking (in front of the 60 person crowd) "Does anyone else feel the need to push this thing back about 3 hours? Cuz I'm thinkin' 10:30ish would work out really nicely for me." Instead, I conformed to the social norm of getting up early...it's a fad I'll

I recently got some health insurance. It's amazing how much peace of mind one can have knowing that in case some dirty kids get ya sick...you can actually get some affordable medicine! Since it's the off season in my industry, in other words school is out for summer, I don't worry about this quite as much as I worry about things like that weird lookin' mole on my left thigh. I scheduled a full-on, check 'er all out, physical last week. The insurance I have has a list of providers much like any other. I scrolled down and found the first doctor that met my three requirements: 1) Within 20 minutes of my house, gas these days is rough. 2) A female...for annual exam situations and such 3) A last name which I can pronounce. Not that I don't enjoy and appreciate other cultures and even a thick accent from time to time (especially on a tall, dark and handsome male) but, in conversations about my irregularly frequent heart burn for example, I'd like to ha

As I attempt to survive this summer I find myself filling out lots and lots of paperwork. There is the job application paperwork which includes things like name, address, previous address, address before your previous address, last 100 places you've worked and the skills you used at those places, references from people who cannot be related to you or know you on a professional level, personal level...or any other level... Once you've gotten someone to hire you, you're called a "NEW HIRE." You have "New Hire" training, "New Hire" codes to get into buildings and of course "New Hire" packets of paperwork to fill out. This includes questions like, "During work hours, if you slip and crack your head open, do you want the option of seeing your own personal physician, or will you be okay seeing ours? I don't know, I'll be unconscious wasn't one of the options. Then of course there is the on going document called the

I'm a thankful gal today.  I have many jobs now...just waiting for the paychecks from them. So is my Portuguese landlord, we play a little game called "Hide and Seek" from the 1st of the month until whenever I give him some cash. Today I had to go through a drug screen for my new serving job.The nice Filipino nurse gave me lots of instructions.  She made sure I didn't have pockets in my puffy skirt, I'm thinking they would be for smuggling in drug-free urine?  As we stood awkwardly in the doorway of the restroom she told me not to wash my hands nor flush the toilet. "Okay" I said as I listened intently. "Can I wipe?"   She doesn't think I'm funny. Hope I passed!

I have a lot on my mind today. This week seems especially anxiety ridden. My full-time job ended almost three weeks ago. That's what happens every June when you work at a school. The first week of Summer I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off, continuing the process that I started back in April...finding a job for summer! I have my "side job" but whadoya know, bartending 2-4 shifts a week surprisingly doesn't pay all the bills...maybe like 1/2 the rent and a payment on that Visa I racked up the first year out of college. The second week was "7 Days, Live or Die?" A title Dad came up with for our first ever vacation with "Dot 1" only (Dot = daughter). Now here I am on week #3 out of a job, sitting in my car, in OB. Don't worry, I'm not living in it, not yet at least! But the "Seriously who does that?" moment I just experienced called for nothing short of a silent, car, sulk sesh. Before you read this you ou