Blonde Story Short

One of my many jobs this summer (gotta keep those outta work teachers busy and out of trouble!) is serving la jollans and vacationers wishing they were la jollans on a private beach at La Jolla Beach and Tennis Club aka The LJBTC...almost not an abbreviation at this point. The LJBTC goer is one of two people: A member, just your average bloke who can afford to pay $60, 000 to join a private club where he'll frequent the beach and walk around with a tennis bag, you know, the ones in the exact shape of a tennis racket. The other is the guest who is staying in what we call our "apartments". We pretend not to, but we look down on these people. They are not as great as the members. "Oh, you're charging it to your room number? Yea, it's probably going to be about 30 minutes for a Kids' Chicken Tender basket, I'll get it to ya when I can." I spend my day walking up and down the beach with trays of drinks in one hand and Styrofoam boxes of foo...

Once upon a time, off of Rosecrans Street, lived a blonde and a little asian . These roommates decided that the new year should bring revamps to their sweet little 1950's house, owned by the crafty Portuguese man living behind them. Their precious home included Craigslist couches from the hood of Golden Hills, an Ikea kitchen table and Ross decor (Honestly their slogan should change from "Dress for Less" to Decorate for less!) On the last Saturday morning of January, a surprisingly hot one, they decided their kitchen needed some fancy- ing up. They wanted their faux wood kitchen table to become black and "shabby" and the newly purchased shelf (originally green before the spray paint kick) to be hung and adorned with candles. duh. They began spray painting-using canned paint and brushes is so 1990. Comments flew like "We should have a furniture business" and "No wonder gangsters do this, this is fun!" The table had been turned b...