Blonde Story Short

My last night on "Thanksgiving San Fran Roadtrip 2009" was a difficult one. "Okay you're going to go up that hill for about 16 blocks, then over the Golden Gate Bridge.Once you're off the 101, turn right, then left then left again, then right. You'll know what it looks like." Ok. Quick pep talk to self. Map of strange city riding shot gun...always helpful (when you have the where with all to look down while driving crazy roads and can read maps). A sweaty, shaking version of me made it off the freeway. The lefts and rights began to blur, especially without street names. Once in the residential of the destination I was at a loss. Areas like this one tend to have that every-house-looks-identical appeal. I know they have a mini-van in their driveway. There was definitely a fence. And there was trim around the roof and an American Flag hanging...or maybe a festive turkey flag? Mission Accomplished. Arrival at 7pm, ready for screaming children an...

I realized (more like remembered) this morning that I am a bit crazy-just a little bit. I have all these trivial "rules" set for myself as I get ready for the day, all enforced in a matter of 20 minutes. The funny thing is...I don't generally follow rules! I don't run red lights or anything, but just look at what I'm doing right now for instance! I'm at work and writing on my blog. Hello?! Clearly I'm not an average rule-follower...at least not other people's rules I guess. By the time I got ready and out the door this morning I had followed more than a sane (using that term loosely) amount of rules. 1. Only hit snooze once...twice is so not allowed. 2. Don't wear silver jewelry if there is gold anywhere on your shoes...even if it's just a buckle that is semi-covered by your pants. 3. Don't leave blow dryer or any other hair appliance plugged in. On the sink, no problem, on the sink and plugged in, not okay. 4. Put the hangers ...

Getting nostalgic I pulled out my journal from traveling through Europe last summer. So this is straight out of it...poor grammar and all ;) I have to admit I can barely read my own writing! Friday July 18, 2008 We had another great, free hotel bfast, no champagne today :) Checked out. My hypothesis was correct, the clothes hung all around the room are definitely still wet. In the suitcase they go, what are ya gonna do! We checked out and realized "Borkum" our next destination is on another island! We would. Basically we'd have to go back through Hamburg to the other side. Right now we're in Utersum on the island of Fohr. Instead, we cancel our Borkum hostel and with the help of our very sweet German hotel owner, get a cab to the nearest hostel on OUR island. That hostel = full. The lady tells us about "Haus Atlantis" a house behind the hostel building that rents out rooms. We get our ish over there and some how communicate that we ...

...like the Las Vegas airport. Current location and status: middle class and single. I'm kidding. Gate B10, delayed, estimated time of flight 1:50pm. Originally the time was 9:40am...then 10:55, 12:30, 1:30, and now 1:50. After the first "update" I knew I had at least an hour and a half to kill before boarding. With a carry-on full of knitting goods, a journal and "Twilight" my current leisure read, I was well prepared for this sort of thing. Instead of sitting at the gate I thought I'd have a change of scenary and enjoy a nice beverage of some sort. I left B10 and explored...then there was the dillema- On my right, Starbucks. MMMMMmmmm who doesn't love the peppermint mochas out in the month of December?! On my left, Fox Sports Bar. Who couldn't use a little mimosa pick-me-up in a delayed flight, stressful airport/holiday situation?! 3 secs of deliberation later and mimosa it is. Unfortunately the bartender didn't have champagne...so I...

I finally freaked out today (in the confines of my own head). I'll rewind for a moment. I arrived Saturday night in Berlin, Germany at "David's Cozy Little Backpacker Hostel." aka the cheapest one I could find on hostelworld.com. I would be staying here the next three nights and it was by far the weirdest place I'd seen...ever. A host of norwegian 18 year old girls were quite the welcome wagon. They told us we had to go out with them and (in a seductive, creepy manner) that "...they'd never been out with American girls before." That, along with the staring and graze along my rear as one walked past me was my que to go to bed and take a raincheck! So here we are. Thus far, although I have experienced various unclean and disturbing circumstances on this trip, I have not yet allowed myself to be "high-maintenance." Well, today is the day where that all comes to an end. I had to wait for the one and only shower in the hostel. I w...

As we walked up the four flights of marble stairs to our hostel room, we hoped our two other roomies would be two things: female and awake. This would mean that we could get ready for bed in normal fashion; noisily, 1/2 naked and with talking of our day's adventure intermingled. Bindiya, roomie #1, was awake and ready to chat it up. What a sweet and hopeful soul. She is from Bombay, India and lives in London to work for an investment banking company. She is 26 years old, and "still not married." She wants so badly to come to the states and attend Harvard for her MBA. After high school she was told by her older brother that if she wanted to further study, he would allow her to do so. This is apparently Indian custom, the oldest brother is sorta in charge. Her high school teacher had to persuade her brother to allow this kind of craziness as most Indian girls are to be looking for a husband at that point. She studied further and is now preparing to apply to Harv...

After running like hell to catch our train from Rome to Naples, somehow the train attendent knew I was not supposed to be sitting in First class (young american girls carrying dirty backpacks and sweating like beasts are clearly only classy enough to be in the 2nd class) So, I moved...and ended up sitting next to a nun. She ate a sandwich, used her cell phone and totally backwashed in her water bottle. I wish I could communicate with her but unfortunately no italian for me. I take joy in knowing that my mom would be so happy to hear that one of her very own catholics...not just any catholic, a super legit catholic...was within inches of her one and only daughter. I'm assuming this means extra blessings or safety or something. Suddently I become anxious that writing about this nun is perhaps a sin. Even worse, what if homegirl is reading my every word? She is sitting RIGHT next to me. No, impossible. She would've been offended by the backwash comment. The chick across from me i...