My Torrid Love Affair

Last month on my birthday my mother got into an all-out brawl with Teleflora. It was ugly. There was a facebook post that would make your toes curl, lots of calling and complaining and in the end I was delivered two small arrangements in different vases by someone who can only be described as a parolee.

Today I got another notice from our mailroom that I had something waiting for me. My mom told me to expect flowers at an undisclosed time because they'd be re-doing and refunding my mom. I assumed this was that time.

I opened the FTD box, not yet realizing that they are not the same as Teleflora and really, in this time of rampant corporate mergers who questions these sorts of things? The bouquet of pink and red roses was really pretty and I excitedly opened the card to find the following card inscription:

"To the wonderful and beautiful Ms. Rodriguez. I love you very much and will see you soon. Enjoy these in the meantime. With lots of love, M"

I wish I could write back!

Dear M,
Thank you for the kind words and the flowers. You're right, I am wonderful and beautiful though I'm not certain we've ever met and my name is actually not Ms. Rodriguez. Also, I love someone else and these roses will not change my mind.
Best of luck to you in your future endeavors,
J

Will a love affair end because I can't return these? The receptionist tried! She called FTD! You can't return these babies. M is probably thinking 'What a bitch, she never thanked me for the flowers.' Ugh. The drama is intense here, folks!

Eat Fresh, Bitches

I don't really know what food costs. Sometimes I spend a couple dollars on a sandwich and sometimes I spend like $15. So for me, sandwiches cost somewhere between 1 and 15 dollars, which is admittedly  a pretty big spread. 

I went to the mall the other day with Julie to return some stuff and we stopped at Subway. OK America, have we not been BOMBARDED with $5 FOOTLONG commercials for what seems like the last two years? Yes. Now, I know I went to elementary school in America but to me, if 12 inches of sandwich costs $5, 6 inches of sandwich then costs $2.50, because $2.50 is half of $5 and 6 inches is half of a foot. 

So I order my veggie delight - wheat bread, provolone, lettuce, tomatoes, spinach, black olives, pickles, and tons of banana peppers (That's right no meat and no condiments, proof I am a communist). I do my little crab walk with three Subway sandwich professionals and I hand the lady $3 cash. Now, one thing you have to know about Jessica is her steadfast hatred of when stores dictate which bills and change and cards you can and cannot use. It is all legal tender, assholes. All of it. You shouldn't be able to deny me service because you have to pay some minuscule amount to process my card and you shouldn't be able to dictate if I pay with a $50 or a $5. LEGAL TENDER. The following conversation ensues:

Me: Here ya go.

Subway professional: Um...do you have fifty cents?

Me: No.

[LOTS OF SILENCE AND SCOWLING]

Julie: I do! Here ya go!

My brain was seething - HOW DARE YOU. $3 is perfectly acceptable and YOU should be giving ME fifty cents, stupid. 

EXCEPT THAT 6 INCHES OF SANDWICH COSTS $3.50...AND I ONLY GAVE YOU $3. 

I'm now just as shitty as the person who gets on the bus and refuses to pay the fare. I am a FARE EVADER. 

Dear Julie -

Thank you for 50 cents. I had like $80 cash in my purse at the time and could have afforded it and I am sorry for embarrassing you in front of the young Subway sandwich professional. 

Dear Subway-

If you were as committed to my health as you are Jared's you would not discourage me from purchasing the appropriate portions. I still call bullshit on your fiscal policy. 

Fat Superhero

I don't think it requires much imagination to understand that grad school is stressful. It is fraught with this polar tension between complete self confidence and complete self doubt, causing identity issues and crying jags of the likes you've never seen. But for one of my classmates, identity is much more complicated than that.

Wednesday night the toughest class I'll have to get through began. There is a light at the end of the tunnel as this is the final course we must take before our comprehensive exams in January. After that, one more class and then I have a degree. Woosh. So close. This class normally has about 25 students but so many are finishing this year which means our poor professor has 31. That means, for every ten-page paper each of us write, she has 31 ten-page papers to grade.

Back to the story. This guy is a heavy-set Asian kid with a shaved head who always wears button-ups and jeans. He is mellow, maybe kinda stoney-baloney, and looks at his watch CONSTANTLY. Wednesday night we all thought class would start at 7, we would read the syllabus and be outta there by 8, 8:30 maybe. NOT SO MUCH.

I noticed this guy getting agitated around 9pm. He'd check his watch, frown a little, look around. Then, at 9:25, way before we were done, he started packing his backpack up to go. This is offensive to professors, especially our professor for the capstone class. She will call you out. She is a member of the Sass Police. He packs up, walks over to her while we are in a circle, discussing Wilson, Weber and Hegel, and whispers to her that he has to go - points at the clock. The next thing that happened made me think he might be a superhero: He opened the door, turned the corner, and BOLTED. I'm talking, Bruce Jenner-level sprints. He is a fat kid. Looks like he's bored and about to nap and he TOOK OFF LIKE A SHOT, each footstep echoing in the empty hallway.

Oh my god, Brian is a superhero.

I kept waiting for the sound of glass crashing as he flew out the second story. WOOOOOSH!

That explains why he was looking at his watch so crazed. He saw the bat signal and had to BOLT.

Or maybe time ran out on the meter, who knows.

Out Nerded at Lego Store

My husband is a Lego maniac. He lusts after sets like I lust after shoes (and bedding).

We've been frequenting the South Coast store because we've had the happy coincidence of meeting friends and family for dinner there a lot lately. School's out for 8 more days, we're living it up.

So we walk into the store last Friday and I will admit I've begun to feel at home there. We're not regular customers; we are the UBER cool 20-somethings who come to celebrate architecture and pop culture. We're not nerds. We are properly groomed and well dressed and have interesting and thoughtful accessories like vintage glasses and thrifted ties. We are so cool.

I lose Todd immediately because he is having the most prolific angina over which Star Wars set to buy and I wander because I like to peek at the little Lego vignettes made my local Legovores. One was people in bikinis and one featured a giant multi-headed alien hat that one could wear like an adorable balloon animal head or like an intergalactic version of Luna Lovegood with her lion hat:

So, ya, like that but if it was an alien themed headdress. I walk up and an Asian mom has trapped the young female employee in conversation.

Mom: "Where I can buy that?"
Lego girl: "Oh, someone made it for show...it's not for sale."
Mom: [Disapproval]

I say to the Lego girl, you know since I am like her cool older cousin at this point, "I bet a lot of people want to buy that, huh?"

Lego girl: "Yep. I get asked about it a lot. It's pretty popular also because Avengers...did you see Avengers?"
Me: "No...but my husband did...[point to frantic Todd]"
Lego girl: "Nevermind. You wouldn't understand." [walk away]
Me: [rejected]

I was socially rejected by a Lego girl. She smoked me out of the hole I'd crawled in, masquerading as a cool nerd. Shame on me. Shame on me for trying to pretend I fit in this world. It's like seeing your weird uncle downloading Junior Senior. Shame on you. You can't like this stuff, uncle. Go on, git.

Acting!

I can't hold it in any longer, I am nervous-excited for 4/22. Yes, it's Earth Day and yes, it's Jeanie's (Todd's mom) birthday but it is also the day Todd and I will make our acting debut.

You read that correctly.

No speaking parts and it's not for anything morally questionable. A couple years ago we started staying at this amazing bed & breakfast in San Diego owned by a wonderful woman named Ann. This place is totally awesome. I've written about it before. We've been going there 2-3 times a year since grad school started to hide for the weekends when I'm free enough to do that and we've celebrated more than a couple birthdays there too.

Well anyhoo, Ann decided she wants to film a commercial and asked Todd and I to be her *STARS*! We are so nervous-excited we could puke.

I just got off the phone with the film guy and he sounds like a hoot too. We ended the conversation joking about us bringing traditional Victorian garb.

Our call time is 8:30am and they expect to wrap by 5pm (I am giggling just typing those things). We'll be filmed in pajamas, business clothes, street clothes (bloods or crips, how's a girl to choose?!) in various rooms at the place and walking about Hillcrest. There is also supposedly a scene scheduled to be filmed at a microbrewery nearby.

I think it'll be hysterical and I plan on sending everyone on this earth links to it once filming's complete. Poor Ann and her poor sales from our ridiculous faces gracing her commercial but yay us for doing something totally wacky.

PDX POP NOW

Home after a 5-day, 4-night jaunt to Portland. We had an amazing time and were able to cram a lot into the time we were there.

Here is our trip in pictures:

Dreary most of the trip, but the rain was manageable. Funny how much the locals were complaining about the rain - makes me think most of the people there aren't long-time residents. Heck, if we can handle the rain, this should be nothing for you people.

Our room at Ace hotel was really a glamorous hostel. The bed was four inches thick, made mostly of concrete and unrealized dreams. Yes, the wallpaper was an Italian newspaper. Yes, it took Todd three days to notice. You could purchase their custom Ace Hotel Pendeltons for a mere $400-something for the King size.

Everywhere you look in Portland there is art. Folk art, corporate art, indie art, you name it, it's everywhere.


We ate A LOT but walked even more so luckily our WW leader won't have to scold us this week. This is me at Zeus' cafe at the Crystal Hotel, with my bear sweater on, deciding if eggs florentine is a good plan.

The zoo, which by the way costs $9 to get into if you take the light rail which drops you DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF the zoo, is amazing. Tons of animals up-close-and-personal, like this very angsty monkey.

In Portland you're aware you're in a city because of the sidewalks and the tall buildings and celebrity sightings (Matthew Fox stayed in our hotel, Zooey Deschanel was spotted at Clyde Common) but there is a lack of hustle-bustle. You walk right out of your building and there are beautiful flowering trees and greasy food carts greeting you with exotic morsels and you sort of forget to be stressed out.


Todd at Multnomah falls. Have you ever seen someone so happy to be wearing like 3 pairs of pants and coping with wet jeans? Seriously. The man loves the outside but only when it's below 55.



The Farmer's Market was incredible. We shared a little sandwich with mushrooms and pesto and I had the best SEA SALT CARAMEL macaroon I've ever eaten from Pearl Bakery's booth. Seeing the PSU campus made me rethink a few life choices too. Can you imagine awakening in your dorm room on Saturday to a table full of chard in front of a quaint Victorian mansion?


And then there's "weird" Portland. This is the 24-hour church of Elvis, a coin-operated museum that, from what I could discern, had little to do with Elvis. I think the most "Portland" thing we saw when we were there was a punk kid scrubbing his boots with a toothbrush in a public water fountain. Clean your boots, oy! oy! oy!

We also got to return to Equilibria for a couple's massage and here is my honey afterward looking quite "squishy" - his term for how massages make him feel.

I'm sick and back to a kick-ass week but the trip was worth it.

Hey Girlfriend!

A dear friend's birthday is approaching so I double clicked my calendar and invited her to a relaxing morning of brunch and massages. Feeling quite pleased with myself, I checked my calendar and for some reason the notice wasn't popping up on there...hmm.

I checked my sent emails and there it was...why wasn't it showing up?? OH. I SEE. It's because as I was calendar-stalking my old boss' calendar earlier in the day I'd double clicked HIS calendar and placed the private meeting on HIS calendar.

A little back story: the friend whose birthday I was trying to celebrate and my old boss are not what you would call "fond" of one another. OOPS. Now she had an invite from him that said something like:
LET'S DO THIS!

10am - brunch/breakfast - Pain du Monde or Mother's or somewhere else? You pick!

Noonish - Massages, unless you want a facial?

Later - Shopping or a New Girl marathon - whatever we feel like!

OH GOD. Once I realized what had happened, I called his assistant and, while on the phone with her, my friend called me. "Do you realize what you did???"

Yes, yes I do.

Luckily my relationship with the old boss is still good. I emailed to tell him that he is not in fact invited to my friend's party and his response was priceless:
"Now I'm in tears!"

At least we can all laugh about it now.