Tuesday, September 30, 2008

cookie fueled dreams

Last night I had a dream about cookies. Specifically generic brand "duplex" sandwich cookies, not Oreos. You know, the ones that are vanilla on one side and chocolate on the other and oh so tasty?. So, in my dream I was trying to ride a bike from New Orleans to Orlando with members of my family being pulled in a trailer behind me. I got about halfway to Orlando when I realized I was starving and pulled over onto the shoulder of the bike interstate. Realizing that I hadn't packed a lunch for myself, I asked my family what they had and someone handed me a baggie of duplex sandwich cookies. I ate the hell out of those cookies and when I woke up I really really wanted to eat the hell out of some in my waking life.

So today at lunch, after managing to perform a miracle and get my power turned back on, I stopped at the grocery store and bought a healthy meal of chicken tenders and a pack of duplex cookies. This was lovely except for one small glitch: did you know that stores only sell duplex cookies in packs that are two pounds in size? Two pounds! That's a lot of freaking dream cookies. In fact, I don't think I even ate two pounds worth of duplex cookies in my dream and you know I burned two pounds worth of calories towing my family from NOLA to Orlando. Somehow I showed restraint and only ate three cookies from the pack. At this rate the remaining duplexes will be soggy and stale long before I finish the pack. I should have saved them and strapped the whole pack to my back for my marathon. Instant cookie dispenser and I wouldn't have needed a single gu for the race. I would surely bet the Kenyans with this plan.

On a note that I'm going to pretend is totally random and unrelated to the fact that I have two pounds of cookies staring at me from my desk, my bras are feeling a bit tight in the cup area, which is normally a sign that I'm chunking up a bit, but this time I don't think it's that. Because I am in denial. I think my boobs are getting bigger because they never re-pressurized from our plane ride home. My boobs are suffering from some kind of ill pressurized jet lag. And so help me, if you try to tell me differently, I will come over there and smack you upside the head with my pack of cookies.

Monday, September 29, 2008

I'm living off the grid

Holy crap, we are back in California, but not back in our house, because our house has no power. NO FREAKING POWER. Apparently our energy bill hasn't been paid in two months and I never noticed. I am so smart, S-M-R-T. It seems the power was shut off on Thursday or maybe Friday and we found out about this on Saturday, while we were in San Francisco for a wedding. After taking a few deep breathes to help me calm the fuck down, I realized that having no power is not the end of the world and that it means extending our vacation by one more day when while we stayed with friends. Plus, knowing that I would shortly be in a bar with a mighty strong drink in my hand, helped too.

I bet you're wondering what my final verdict is about our Adventure by Disney. (Shut up and play along, of course you've been waiting for this!) I'm going to give the trip a thumbs up and would even go so far as to recommend it to other folks. We made some great friends on the trip (click through and behold the Duke of Dill aka: the King of Pickles and Kevin, the only guy that can make jparks look like a saint), saw some amazing sites, stayed in magnificent hotels, drank good Guinness and whiskey, and came home with tons of stories to tell. If all of that isn't the mark of a great vacation then I don't know what is.

Since returning home, we've been smacked hard in the face my real life and it has not been pretty. But anytime I look at my Ireland pictures I smile and laugh about jparks being a dumbass and suddenly am ready to call Disney to book my next Adventure. Dorky? Yes, but it simply was an awesome vacation. Like for reals. And in Ireland I had electricity in all my hotel rooms. Well, except for the one room where I tried to use my hair dryer. Who knew that a power converter doesn't actually convert all appliances?

Thursday, September 25, 2008

being "those" American tourists

For the last three nights of this trip we've been staying in the fanciest hotel that I have ever seen, much less stayed in, Dromoland Castle. It's a total first class kind of place and I think we've been on the verge of eviction multiple times. On our first night here jparks and I were walking around with some friends from the tour when the boys apparently lost their minds and started acting like fools.

Here's jparks sporting wood:
jparks sporting wood

And look, here they are molesting really old artwork:
molesting really old artwork

And lost in the bushes in the front of the hotel. (You can't really tell, but the bushes are cut into a fancy design)
lost in the bushes

When we went back inside the lobby people were giving us some really dirty looks. Imagine Emily Gilmore but make her a bit more uptight and you have the kind of folks we were getting looks from. Not that I entirely blame them, but we weren't being loud, causing damage, or pestering them in any way, we were simply acting like 12 year olds. And really, every once in awhile, I think that's okay.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Thursday, September 18, 2008

vacation pictures! because they are so interesting!

you might have already read most of this post. When I opened my blog this morning something was up with it. This post had disappeared and when I finally found it, the last half was missing. I blame the weird Irish internet.

I’m sorry to report that my plan failed. Big Fail Whale, in fact. (I saw a guy wearing a Fail Whale shirt today and wanted to introduce myself to him. An Irish Fail Whale! So exciting!) I did sleep on the plane, but jparks did not. When we got to the hotel at 9:30am, we immediately went to the room and jparks decided to nap. I stayed up for awhile reading, but then finally caved in. I set an alarm to go off an hour later, but it didn’t work. We slept for 8 hours. So yeah, that first day here, not much happened. We did wake up in time to get dinner and drinks from a real Irish Pub. I had cider and ended up a bit tipsy, but since tipsy was my only goal for this trip, it’s safe to say I had a good time.

Today jparks and I woke up at 3am (fucking jet lag) and after trying to go back to sleep unsuccessfully, we watched tv until 5. After a quick run (running on vacation, I am so awesome) we headed out for the day. First we hit St. Stephens Green where I found the Oscar Wilde memorial and took a dorky picture:

After that we went to the Dublin Google office and I gorged on European chocolate bars. All I’m going to say is that the Dublin mini-kitchens kick the Mountain View mini-kitchens asses. And that we are dorks for visiting Google while on vacation:
google in dublin

After that we did some other stuff (that I can’t currently think of because I’m tired. And have been drinking) and then met the rest of our tour group for a dinner. I was a bit nervous about this because really, what kind of people go on Disney tours (I mean besides jparks and I), but the people at our table were nice. Older than us by about 20 years, but still nice. One of the guys owns a pickle company in New York and I was so excited by this that I proclaimed “I love pickles!” I’m hoping to have a pickle hook up by the end of this trip.

And that’s all I’ve got for now because I’m tried. And maybe my buzz is dying. And the jet lag is still kicking my ass a tiny bit.

If you care, there’s more pictures over here (although not many because uploading takes forever on our wifi here) and more being uploaded shortly.

Monday, September 15, 2008

must. stay. awake.

It's almost 2am and I am still awake! My plan is going according to, eh, plan! (Sorry folks, words are apparently not my strong suit this late at night)

See, our flight leaves tomorrow, er, TODAY at 2:35pm. And since it's an overnight flight my plan is make myself so damn tired that I have no choice but to sleep on during the bulk of it. I think this is a brilliant idea. Jparks does not agree. He thinks I'll be tired and cranky and not able to fall asleep. He has not met my new best friend forever, Mr. Benadryl. My new friend is really good at knocking me out. And if that doesn't work, I'll have jparks read to me from one of his new Dungeons and Dragons books. The ten hour flight will fly by. (fly, flight. dude, at 2am I am cracking myself up)

I am mostly packed right now, with only toiletries and power cords for various electronic gadgets to toss into a bag in the morning. I have my airplane books picked out (in case I really can't sleep): The Audacity Of Hope and In The Woods. I have dvd's queued up for when I just can't read another word (good, fluffy dvds too. The first and second season of Beverly Hills, 90210. I'm kicking it old skool). Ireland, here I come. Lock up your whiskey and beer. And potatoes. mmm, potatoes.

I am ready for this damn vacation to start.

(On a side note, did you guys know today, er, yesterday was Monday. I did not. Seriously. I took today off to finish packing and totally forgot that other people had to work. I didn't realize that it was an actual work day until just a few minutes ago, even though I talked to some friends while they were at work. Am so smart.)

((Also, I went to see these shoes in person and the store was sold out of them in my size. Bitches. I could order them online, but they were on sale in the store and I now feel kinda dumb paying full price. le sigh))

Saturday, September 13, 2008

hey look, still not packing!

Do I need these shoes?
I think I do. Can they be worn with skirts? Like a black skirt with tights and then these shoes? And how cute would they be with black slacks. Cute, right?

Jparks and I are having a tivo standoff. The tivo in our bedroom (also known as my tivo since it records Gossip Girl, 90210, and Project Runway. All vital to my existence) has been crapping out this week. It records shows with no problems, but will not let you watch them. When you hit the tivo button on the remote, it takes about 15 minutes to respond. And lately its typical response is just to freeze up. It has only been doing this since jparks messed with our internet settings and I want him to fix it. For the love of all things holy, make the tivo let my Gossip Girl go, jparks! His solution is that we buy a new tivo. He claims this one is old. I claim he's crazy.

This is the tivo we got after Katrina so it's only three years old. Jparks insists that "OMG THREE YEARS OLD! Take it behind the barn and put a bullet in its head!" I insist that he's fucking crazy and I'm not shelling out for another tivo after only three years. Doesn't that seem like a short lifespan for a tivo? Shouldn't it last at least five years? Dammit tivo, I signed up for a long time relationship, not a quick fling where you have your way with me in our bedroom and then leave without saying goodbye. I feel so cheap and used.

And now a question (has this post been all questions? I think it might be. It's because I respect you guys so much that I want your input. And because I am dumb. dumbdumbdumb) What would you wear on a ten hour, overnight flight? I know not pajamas because ew, but what? I want to be comfortable and plan on sleeping, even if it means taking something to knock me out. Normally I don't sleep on planes because I can't get comfortable to save my life, so what can I do to boost my relaxation level up a notch? Would you wear shoes that you can kick off in your seat? Like crocs? (I know, shut up) Should I skip the pants and wear a skirt? I should I change into a bathrobe in the bathroom and walk back out to my seat like it's nothing? (how awesome would that be?) Help me!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

things I should be doing and blogging isn't on the list

Jparks and I leave for Ireland on Tuesday. Yay! But also, crap! I looked at the forecast for Ireland about two weeks ago and haven't looked since then. I'm expecting cool temps and rain, but how cool? Don't know. And how rainy? Uh, some. Yeah, I'm on the ball. I haven't even started packing and jparks doesn't even have something to pack. As in, he has no piece of luggage because the duffel bag he likes to travel with broke. No way can we pack for a two week vacation with one piece of luggage between the two of us. Where would my shoes go?

When we return from Ireland we will be heading directly from the airport to a wedding in San Francisco. I almost feel bad for saying we would go to this wedding, because the jet lag? It will not be pretty. But it's good friends getting hitched and other good friends will be guests and we are honestly really excited to celebrate with these amazing people. But again, the jet lag might make us crazy. I was also supposed to book us a hotel room so we don't have to drive home that night, but I haven't yet. Because why take care of it when we first got the invite when taking care of it at the last minute is so much fun.

A more puzzling situation than booking the hotel room is how will we get our wedding clothes? I'm not traveling with jparks' suit and my fancy dress and heels, so do I fedex them to the hotel? Do I leave them in our car? Ugh, but then we have to pay for long term parking. I am incapable of figuring this out. Seriously, I've been thinking about that problem for over a month now and the solution is still not clear. Maybe jparks and I should just head over to Union Square and buy new clothes before the wedding. Now if I can only guarantee that Banana Republic will have outfits for both of us, in our sizes and lengths, that look good together but are not too matchy-matchy, along with accessories and shoes. What are my chances of this all falling into place?

And I'm still not really sleeping. Bring on the frying pans.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

sleepless in santa clara

In our household typically jparks is the insomniac. He'll stay awake all night if I let him, playing on the computer or on the wii. His internal clock seems to be set to be nocturnal and I have to beat it into submission to get him to come to bed with me. But for some reason, for the past few days, our clocks seemed to have switched places in some Freaky Friday move that has me staying up all night and letting that bastard jparks sleep soundly.

It started on Thursday when I had a nightmare that I had gotten shot in the head and jparks wouldn't take me to the hospital. Except I wasn't really shot in the head so much as I woke up, in my dream, with a hole in the back of my head and I assumed I had been shot. Jparks told me that "No, if you wake up with a hole in your head you haven't been shot. You're fine and you just have to live with it." I spent the rest of the dream poking at the hole and suggesting that maybe I should you know, have someone like a doctor look at it. It's safe to say that I woke up in a cold sweat and pissed off at jparks.

Since then my nights have only gotten worse. Friday night I had dreams of earthquakes (no doubt because we had one that night). From Saturday night I don't remember specific dreams, just that I tossed and turned all night and never seemed to really sleep. Finally we hit Sunday and I thought for sure I would sleep like a rock.

On Sunday I went for my long run and, to motivate myself during it, I kept chanting "You'll finally sleep tonight." I got home that evening and was exhausted. I showered, ate dinner (and then a cinnamon roll and maybe part of a cookie. stop judging me), and headed to bed. Yes, I know all that sugar couldn't have helped the no sleeping situation, but shouldn't a day of running and not much sleep in the three prior days cancel out the sugar?!? Apparently not.

Last night was the same situation, jparks and I got in bed and I listened as he fell asleep. After 30 minutes I honestly thought about waking him up, but figured why bother; I was too tired to have sex and too cranky to have a conversation, so I let him be. God, I should have woken him up just so he could suffer too.

Today I have bags under my eyes. Big, black bags that are so attractive I don't know how random strangers are resisting approaching me to make out with them. My head feels like it's in a fog and I would slap a puppy if it meant I could take a nap. I'm hoping tonight my body finally cries "uncle!" and I get to sleep. To stack the odds a bit more in my favor, I'm going running this evening. I'm going to run until I can't take another step, in the hopes that the extra bit of exercise will guarantee tiredness. And so help me, if this doesn't work I might just hit myself in the head with a frying pan.

Or do you have some sleep inducing trick that works like a charm and that you're willing to share? Please, save me from one more sleepless night and from the pain of a frying pan slap. And by sharing it, you save yourself from one more rambling post where I whine incoherently about not sleeping. See, we all win.

Friday, September 5, 2008

again with the roasted chicken

Not to beat a dead horse, (or a dead chicken in this case) but roasting that chicken on Monday was the best idea ever. It served as dinner for jparks and myself on Monday and Tuesday. Then on Wednesday I ate it again, while jparks had a fancy dinner at Google. After I was done eating, I was going to dump the body, but then I took a good look at the poorly carved remains and realized that there was meat left. Like a lot of it. Because my carving skillz are not mad.

What happened next is not for the faint of heart or vegetarian. I thought about taking pictures, because it was so entertaining to me, but then I decided against it. I mean, do you really need to see a torn apart chicken body? Probably not, and I will openly admit right here and now, that this will probably not entertain anyone but me. Sorry

I didn't grow up in a roasted chicken kind of house. We lived with my grandmother from when I was four until I was in second grade and she cooked dinner every night. I seriously don't think we ever went out to eat, including McDonald's (there is no good reason for why I like McDonald's as an adult. It does not remind me of being a kid, it was not served to me as a "stop your crying now" comfort food. I like it now because I am a freak with an unrefined palate). But we never had anything like roasted chicken. Sure we had fried chicken, but never anything that actually had the shape of a real bird. (We also had fried cauliflower, fried salmon croquettes, fried eggplant, and fried okra. Were we a southern stereotype or what?)

After leaving my grandparents' house, I survived on a steady diet of tv dinners. Kid Cuisine was my drug of choice and I swear I had one every single night. My mom worked a lot and there wasn't time for home cooked meals, and I don't blame her, but this is probably why it's so hard for me to understand how to fit cooking into my daily life. I didn't envy friends that had dinners cooked by their mom's nightly. I felt sorry for them, they never had a say in what they ate, where as once a week, I got to go to the store and pick out my own dinners! That was so very exciting to 8 year-old me.

So, when faced with my very first roasted chicken not only did I not know how to crave it, but I also didn't know that there is meat hidden all over that thing. Tasty little bits of meat ripe for the picking. Not knowing how to get at it, I first grabbed a fork. Jabbing at it yielded really poor results; I pulled out a little meat, but could see that I was missing quite a bit. My next step was to roll up my sleeves and attack the chicken with my hands.

Dude! SOME. MUCH. MEAT. It was extremely satisfying to watch my pyrex bowl fill up with little shards of chicken. I did a once over on the carcass and realized that if I popped off the wings then I could get to more meat. After a moment's hesitation (I am an ex-vegetarian after all) the body was wingless and I had a whole new bounty of meat.

I honestly had to make myself stop hunting for more meat. When I stepped back my hands were covers in meat and chicken juices and the bird was just a heap of bones. At this point I considered boiling the remains for chicken stock, but I am not that Martha Stewart-y so I just pitched it into the trash. Tangi then circled the trash can for the next hour plotting how to topple it.

Thursday I ate my chicken shards on a gordita shell with some refried beans and it was the best meal ever because it was sprinkled with my success over the chicken carcass. Take that you dead chicken! Your tasty, tasty meat was pulled from your bones with my bare hands and I consumed it with some beans. nom nom nom.

I'm digging my place at the top of the food chain and my new found chicken picking apart skillz.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

random bits

OMG, the Peach Pit! The theme song! The campy-ness! 90210, I am only 32 minutes into you and yet, I think I love you! You're not Gossip Girl, but I saw a blowjob in your first ten minutes, so points for that! And you ran jparks off in 9 minutes, so bonus points for that.

Hey looky, here's jparks after biking 24 miles and me after running 18 miles. The Golden Gate Bridge was behind us, but our big heads cover it.

So I roasted that chicken yesterday then realized that I have no idea how to carve it. Jparks and I basically hacked at it and it's not yielding the best results. Seeing as how I planned on roasted more chickens in the future (it's going to be a chicken genocide over here at Parks Place) I should probably learn. Any suggestions or tips?

Speaking of roasted chicken, the other day there was a guy on CalTrain eating a roasted chicken. Not a plate of roast chicken, not a sandwich, but a whole roasted chicken. With his fingers. I know we've been through this before, but dude, why? How do you walk into a grocery store, knowing that whatever you buy will need to be eaten on public transit, and pick out something totally ridiculous? A sandwich from the deli is acceptable. A whole chicken is not. Disgusting person. Sorry this is blurry, but a flash would have been too obvious.

Remember awhile back I twittered about the very expensive whiskey I was sipping? Here's what it looked like:
Doesn't it look extra fancy? No? I know. Shouldn't it have gold flakes in it for that price? Oh, but then it would be Goldschlager and only 16-year-olds would drink it. For the record, the right glass is the $1000 per bottle whiskey and the left is the cheap $750 bottle. Bitches, that's how I roll.

Monday, September 1, 2008

keeping busy

You can all probably guess that I didn't have a relaxing weekend. I stayed tied to my computer, as much as possible, constantly refreshing two sites, trying to get the most up to date information available. It seems Gustav was bad, but not as devastating as we were all expecting. Don't get me wrong, things are not great in New Orleans and it's surrounding areas, but we're far from the worst possible outcome of a hurricane Gustav's size.

And while I did stay online way more than necassary, I knew that I had to cut the cord occasionally or else jparks would be dealing with post-Katrina freaked out Regan, and that's not good for anyone. So, in order to distract myself some, jparks and I had a movie marathon weekend. On Saturday we were the last two people in the world to go see The Dark Night. And while it was good, it made me nervous. Like, not able to watch the screen, tapping my foot, poking at jparks nervous. After the movie we walked around Great Mall, which is so much fun because jparks can't stand all the people that are there not shopping, but just aimlessly wandering around, cutting each other off, and generally being pains in the asses. He so can not handle these people and his reaction to them is free entertainment at it's finest.

On Sunday we went to San Francisco and I ran 18 miles while jparks rode his bike. On the way home I ate a chipotle burrito in record time. Seriously, I killed the burrito in less than 10 minutes. I knew I would be hungry post-run, but I didn't really expect to be that hungry. Also, it was the best burrito I have ever consumed and I've consumed a hell of a a lot of burritos. After digesting the burrito we went and saw Tropic Thunder, which I had my doubts about, but really, go see it. Right now. That was followed by tapas with friends and, if you're judging me for the amount of food I ate on Sunday, let me remind you that I ran EIGHTEEN (18) ((10 plus another 8)) (a whole butt load) miles. I could have eaten a whole cake and it would have been acceptable.

Today jparks and I finally got updates from our families back home and they are all out of power but generally okay. Our friends that evacuated haven't been able to go home yet, but from the news reports, I'm betting their houses will be okay. I spent the afternoon roasting a chicken and making a cake because I am Martha Stewart and Betty Crocker in one body. I had no idea that roasting a chicken was so easy because I am dumb. I shoved a couple of lemons up the chicken's butt, stuck it in the oven, and less than an hour later we had some good eats. It's safe to say that roasted chicken has earned a spot in the regular cooking rotation.

And now it's time for bed. Because that much running really does leave you tired for at least two days and honestly, I didn't sleep that well last night. I felt compelled to stay up hitting refresh for half the night. You know, because that accomplishes so much.