Saturday, April 17, 2010


What the heck is all the talk about?

Yesterday afternoon Eddie and I waited in line outside Sprinkles in Beverly Hills to taste our very first famous Sprinkles cupcake. We paid $13 for 4 cupcakes. Dont feel too sorry for us though, we learned our lesson on the first go. I doubt we'll be returning anytime soon.

We decided on the banana chocolate, dark chocolate, red velvet, and cinnamon & sugar cakes. Although they weren't bad they definitely weren't anything to tell your friends about. They were all very lackluster in the flavor department, each one just tasted kinda blah. Next time we are craving a delicious cupcake we'll go over to Albertsons and mix up a batch of Duncan Hines.

Sorry Sprinkles, your cupcakes have easy-bake-oven taste on a Beverly Hills budget

Mr. Unoriginal

Yesterday I went to the Arclight in Hollywood to see Exit through the gift shop, the worlds first Street Art disaster movie, a documentary by a street artist named Banksy.

Until last week I had never even heard of this guy, but after my hip honey schooled me up, I was excited to watch his movie and looked forward to seeing him in action on the streets. I am sad to report, I was thoroughly disappointed.

I thought the movie would be about Banksy and his fellow street artists. I though it would be something like a chronicle of his life or the history of his work. Instead it was mostly about some camera man turned rip-off artist who found fame on the backs of real artists, one of which being Banksy.

Without going too much into detail, this guy filmed tons of footage of street artists from all over the world, on the premise that he was making a documentary (which turned out to be a complete lie). He eventually took what he saw the people around him doing and hired a team of helpers to mass produce and, in many cases, copy what he had seen other artists doing. He started calling himself Mr. Brainwash.

The title of this film could not be more perfect.. here is why:

(Exit through the gift shop) Everything Mr. Brainwash displayed and sold as his masterpieces were no more original or valuable then the little trinkets or reproductions you'd find in any museum gift shop. His art, if you can even call it that, in my opinion, is all junk that he shouldn't received any credit for.

(the worlds first Street Art disaster movie) Mr. Brainwashes street art documentary, that he never intended to make, turned out to be a complete disaster and pile of S#@% tiled Life Remote Control.


Wednesday morning Eddie and I went on a voyage to locate the house where I spent the first 6 years of my life. Over the course of our journey I thought back to a bunch of things that hadn't crossed my mind in what seems like forever.

I remember:

-The day my dad painted our bedroom bright pink because it was our favorite color.

-When my dad taught me how to ride my bike in the breezeway between the house and the garage and how he rescued me after my first big crash.

-How bad my dad was at doing ponytails but how hard he tried.

-When we got chickenpox my mom gave my sister and I oatmeal bathes and rubbed pink lotion all over us so we wouldn't itch.

-My mom practicing her french braiding technique on us and leaving us feeling Asian because she braided so tight.

-My mom reading to us every night and never falling for the "but I'm not tired yet" line.

-Feeding my sister cheerios and milk inside the closet while she pretended to be a cat.

-My mom walking in on my sister and I eating an entire bottle of TUMS.

I could see the formal dining room, the living room, the kitchen, and the pantry we had as if I had lived there a day before. It was cool to see my old house after so many years, and thinking about all these silly little things really made my day better! I was a lucky little kid!


After huffin' and puffin' my way up the stairs to the roof of the Cal Poly parking structure I noticed some scrawny kid in a uniform awarding tickets to all those rebellious students without parking permits.

Dude was like a little ticket printing robot, in the few short moments it took me to walk across the roof, over to my car, I watched him ornament a good 5 cars with a citation.

Soon after getting into my car and on my way, I realized I too had one of his envelops on my wind shield. What in the world did I get a ticket for? I JUST paid the ridiculous $97/quarter it costs to park in this lot and let me say now, I'm in no mood to pay another $40

I was disgusted! My feelings of luck and thankfulness for not receiving a tickets quickly vanished and visions of the A&E show parking wars began dancing around in my head! If I had known that little punk had written me a ticket just 5 minutes sooner I would have thrown the entire contents of my 20 Oz. iced tea/lemonade combo all over him and his stupid little ticket printer as I drove past!

Although my parking permit was visibly hanging on my rear view mirror, according to peter parking attendant, it wasn't "fully visible". I realize it's this young mans job to issue tickets all afternoon but the fact that he's giving them to people who OBVIOUSLY don't deserve them makes me a little cranky!

I know the school needs money but this is ridiculous! I will definitely be fighting this ticket, but dang, what a waste of time, effort, and paper!

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Her name is Chloe...

She is three years old, she's my boyfriend's daughter, and I love her to death!

I can GUARENTEE this little girl has more character then anyone you've ever known! I know she is beautiful, but her sassy little personality (which is IDENTICAL to her daddy's) is what makes her so great! These are just a few of my favorite snapshots of little miss pickle juice!

Custom beadwork


Kraft...The Cheesiest Mac&Cheese?

I don't think so! You better watch out little dinosaur, Stonefire Grill has got your blue box beat! This Mac & Cheese must have 15 million calories in it! It is sooooo cheesy, yummy, good that I'm willing to bet some stone hard cash that there's an entire large block of cheese and carton of cream in this stuff! I'm hooked! mmmmmmmm

Monday, April 5, 2010

Swept Away

When I dropped my car off at the shop this morning it was pouring rain. I had just finished straightening my hair so my goal was to transport all my junk out of the car and into the rental in just one trip.

After throwing three purses over my shoulder and strategically stacking all my books and papers into my arms I grabbed the rental keys and ducked out into the rain. Upon my arrival at the car I noticed the massive mudslide rushing between my vehicle and the sidewalk. I was determined not to drop anything or accidentally step into the water so I very carefully opened the door and leaned into the backseat with all my treasures while remaining safely planted on the sidewalk.

Unfortunately I was so worried about keeping my slippers dry after my laptop and papers were safely secured in the cobalt that my hand temporally stopped working and I dropped my rental keys into the tide. At first all I could do was gasp as I watched the keys (that cost $125 to replace) wash away in the river but as soon as I realized what had happened I was running down the street like as idiot trying to catch a sheet of paper in the wind. Thank god I caught them but they almost passed through an intersection before I did.

It never fails.. I ended up wet anyway, and I nearly had a heart attack. HELLO MONDAY MORNING! :)

Parking Wars

The parking lot at my job is NOTORIOUS for its small parking spaces. A few weeks ago as I snuggly parked my car between two cars, parked as close to the lines dividing our spaces as humaily possible, I wonderd how I'd even get out once I was in. Oh well, I'd figure it out, I was late for work and needed to get inside to clock in.

After my shift had ended I hopped into my car and jetted off to watch Americas Best Dance Crew with Eddie. As I drove I noticed a small sheet of paper flapping in the wind underneath my windsheild wiper. Instantly I knew what it was, a hate letter for one of the people I had parked my car next to earlier in the evening. At first I wanted to just turn on the water jets and wash the stupid letter away, but instead I decided to pull into a nearby gas station to see what this little note had to say.

To my suprise it was not a hate letter at all, instead, it was a I'm sorry, I didnt mean to hit your car letter. Aparently someone else had the same idea I did about squeezing into one of the narrow spots except they didnt quite make it!

After playing phone tag with the insurance company for almost a month I dropped my car off at the shop this morning and picked myself up a shiny red Chevy Cobalt to drive around town while miss Civic is getting fixed.