yuppy things i've done today

1. Went to a Yoga Works class.

2. Am wearing a Fitbit.

3. Looked at Pinterest for wedding "inspiration".

4. Drank a box of coconut water.

5. Walked a small prancing doggy around the neighborhood.

6. Used the term cultural appropriation.

mexican wedding thoughts

I sort of want to have a wedding with Mexican decor accents.  We've already talked about having a taco truck and it would be very hard to get me off of that idea. 

But is that like... tacky?  Like, hi can I borrow from a culture which is totally not mine at all?  Does it make a gimmick out of an entire country?

Of course, if you know me it makes sense.  I love bright colors and traveling and Spanish and all things Mexico.  I've looked at Pinterest and am not excited about picking two or three pastel colors.  I want all of the colors.  I want vibrant.  I want patterns and flowers.  I want mismatching craziness. I love embroidery.  I love the way Mexicans party.

I can justify tacos because everyone loves tacos.  You bet your ass I'm going to have guacamole and chips and horchata and agua de sandia (watermelon juice) too.

I want to do tequila shots in lieu of champagne.  I've never cared about champagne.

I'm not thinking, like cinco de mayo, or Mexican flag colors.  I'm not thinking Tijuana party.  More like day of the dead, loteria cards, succulents, jesus candles, Frida Kahlo type stuff.

I would probably refrain from using actual Spanish language on invites or signs (Hola!  You're invited to our fiesta! (fart noise)), or getting Mexican sombreros to wear, because that seems like pushing it.

I guess taco carts at weddings are becoming very popular, which kinda bums me out because I feel like James and I thought of it first (waaaahhhhhhh).  Also, Mexican wedding decor is highly google-able, so that's not really an original idea either.

Well, here, look at what I found on google images.

Great, now my laptop won't save any of the photos I'm finding besides this one above.  GREAT.  Here's a LINK.  GO TO IT.

Here's my top choice right now for a venue.  Point Vicente Lighthouse in RPV

What else?  Oh, I don't want a cake - wedding cakes are silly as hell.  I like the thought of cupcakes, brownies, or ice cream cones.

I really wanted the first dance to be Come Sail Away, but James isn't into that song.   This thing is about him too, apparently.

And no money dance.  I'm already asking my friends to spend a whole evening with us, now they have to give up all their cash?  No.

Final thought - don't you hate the word nuptials?

Oh yay look at this site I found: offbeatbride.com
And look at this wedding that did exactly what I was talking about, and now I'll shamelessly copy them: Mexican Inspired Wedding.  Those little prayer flags (or whatever) strung up with the lights, that's what I'm talkin' about.
And another.  I love Pinterest.


the tropicana and its repercussions

I'm find female body image fascinating.


Many answers:
-I am a chick.
-I am cynical, inquisitive, and notice a lot of bullshit.
-I went through a hardcore "let's research everything that's messed up about growing up woman" phase in middle school. (Think, Reviving Ophelia on repeat)
-I had a pretty rude awakening concerning dieting when I moved to college and found that my roommates wanted to talk about eating (or rather, not eating) nonstop.

I'll skip over my life until I was 19, which will let us get to the good part: talking shit about other women!

I moved to Santa Barbara for college in 2001.  My first housing situation was in the Tropicana Apartments with five other girls, chosen at random by UCSB.

So, six girls total.  Out of that, three of them were obsessed with dieting.  I'm not going to go so far as to say that any of them had an eating disorder because that's presumptuous and insensitive but... yeah, at least two probably did.  I went there, making a psychological diagnosis that I'm unqualified for.  Whatever.

It was really disturbing to discover that half of my household loved to talk about weight.  I remember one of the first questions one of them had for me as we were introduced was, "So, do you go to the gym?  I'm trying to go more, maybe we can help each other!  Haha!"  I was like, jesus, we just got to ISLA FUCKN VISTA, who cares about exercise, let's go do keg stands and make out with strangers!

That seemingly innocent question stuck with me as I listened to my roommates talk (Wanna go to the gym? Are we going to the gym today?  How long will we stay at the gym?  I just came from the gym, but I think I'm going to go on a run).  They discussed their bodies and how they were too fat, how they were afraid of getting fat, how their thighs weren't thin enough, how they ate too much at lunch, how they planned to not eat a lot at dinner, and every single upcoming detail of their treadmill time.  They chastised themselves for eating a fat free ice cream cone for dessert, they burst into tears when they got drunk because they hated their bodies, and they couldn't get dressed without asking one another "Does this make me look fat?"

I don't know, maybe I was just really naive, but I had no idea that bitches could be this obsessed with their weight.  Like, for gods sake, we were 17, 18, 19 year olds, we weren't even fully GROWN yet.  If you looked at a photo of my apartment-mates, you'd see six totally normal looking pretty girls.  The way they talked though, it didn't sound like we were in college, it sounded like we were at some perverse fat camp with an all-you-can-eat cafeteria.

Maybe it was the randomization of the way we became roommates, maybe I wasn't used to this because in high school I had actually chosen my friends and maybe more girls were like this than I thought.  The idea that I was the exception to the rule and that teenagers everywhere were idealizing starvation was really depressing.  Like, if you can't be happy with the way you look at 18, it's only a downhill freefall from there, right?  What's next, worrying about aging when you turn 20?  How sad.  When do you get to enjoy anything?  What were their moms like if this was all they thought was important?

One of my roommates was not like them, and she became my best friend at UCSB.  We drank beer, ate cheese, kept snacks around the house (that they inevitably stole when they got drunk and couldn't take being hungry any longer), had heated discussions about the best way to cook steak, smoked pot, got the munchies, rode our bikes to Freebirds for late night burritos, and best of all, laughed like hell behind their backs.  It's hard to believe that neither of us had ever been exposed to this level of skinny-obsession after a lifetime in beachy Southern California, but I really don't think we grew up that way.

Although I had a friend (I might not have made any friends at UCSB without AM having been assigned in the same space), the environment of our apartment was toxic.  Probably two months into living there, I never wanted to hear the question "Do you want to go to the gym" again.  Gym and fat and calories were the most annoying words I'd ever heard.  I was tired of being gawked at for keeping Babybel snack cheese in our mini fridge.  I was sick of being asked if I knew how many calories was in my beer versus their vodka shots (no chaser, gross).  When I was in the cafeteria at the same time as them and awkwardly sat down at their table, it was impossible to enjoy my meal while hearing them endlessly discuss the nutritional value of theirs.  It was wildly uncomfortable to be asked "how do you stay so skinny and eat so much?" when I knew that if they had my body, they would be just as hard on themselves because how they looked didn't even matter.

So up until the middle of the year, AM and I were pretty comfortable with with our fast food, our weed, our excess beer drinking, and our shit-talk on the stupid girls we were stuck living with.

Then I gained like 30 pounds.

Truthfully, even though I didn't place such a premium on being thin, I'd assumed that I'd always just stay thin because up until this point in my life I had eaten a ton of absolute junk without a second thought.  Maybe I didn't think gaining weight would be a big deal, I don't know.  All I remember was going back to Los Al and getting on my parents scale and seeing 150 and kind of brushing it off, then a week later getting a new roll of film developed and realizing that I looked, like, REALLY different and unfortunately not in a good way.  My mom, meaning well, nicely suggested that I go to the gym with my roommates.  I wanted to barf in my mouth.  The gym was for dumb bitches!

It was then, when I wasn't thin anymore, that I had to reconsider my entire attitude about weight.  I see now that up until then it was easy for me to eat whatever I wanted and also to snark at dieters.  I really had the best of both worlds.  I thought to myself, wait, am I one of THEM now?  And I destined to track every thing I eat and make time for exercise?  Do I look normal?  What do I even look like?  Should I care about this?  I didn't want to talk to AM about it because I was so ashamed of myself.  I kept it all inside and opened my ears to the diet talk in my house, picking up on which foods were bad (um, almost all of them).  My ultimate struggle* at this point in life was, can I exercise and still not be a totally lame person?  It was a humbling experience to see that I wasn't all that immune to our culture's thin worship.

*ah, the struggles of upper middle class first world white youth. 

The first time I went to the gym with my roommates, the whole thing was horrible.  I felt like I had betrayed AM.  I felt like I didn't even know who I was as a person.  Everyone else was cheerful, and we jogged there and back and they all feigned surprise that I joined them and told me how skinny I was.  It's like that's all those girls had to offer one another, to parrot back and forth arguing about who looks sooooo thiiinnnnnn!!!  No, YOU'RE skinny!  Ohmigod, no I'm NOT.

So, now I am totally sick of talking about this (because even as I suspect every one of my friends has issues with this, the more I write the more conscious I am that it sounds unbearably shallow), so I'll wrap it up.  I think it's funny to imagine a dude writing so much about body image, 1) because most guys are preposterously undeservedly more confident than girls and 2) because if a guy did have body issues, he probably would not write about it this openly because its seen as more of a female topic and therefore would make him seem weak.  We're force-fed these body positive messages about feeling good about yourself and embracing differences, but at the same time the images and advertisements we see everywhere couldn't say more of the opposite - as long as you're young, thin, free of cellulite, and tan, you should be proud of the way you look!  Uh, okay thanks, but the only people I've ever known to look like that were, somewhat ironically, my freshman year roommates.

Twelve years after living in my neurotic-as-fuck apartment in IV, I still think about weight and dieting and exercise and how girls are taught to hate their hips and tummies and legs.  I know I have my moments where I am one of my old roommates, gazing at an old skinny photo and wishing I could wear a midriff top again, and at the same time I'm still cynical freshman year Lindsey, telling myself to shut the fuck up and eat some cheese you silly bitch.  It's weird how you can be smart enough to see your unhealthy habits but still succumb to them.  And who knows, maybe our roommates weren't even as one dimensional as we thought and maybe they were even capable of recognizing the flaws in their own thinking... or maybe not.

What the hell is my point here?  Okay, here goes.
- I exercise now, mostly to fight off depression.  I'm not worried about it turning me into a lame person because it makes me feel better.
- I dislike talking about weight but then sometimes I'm obsessed with it and can't help talking about it.
- Teen girls should not diet.  They shouldn't be taught to diet.
- I need to have great food all the time.  What's the point of going about your day otherwise?  I enjoy every meal that I have.
- I don't know if there will ever be a time when I'm totally okay with myself, but I know that I've gotten a lot better and am way more confident and way less self-judgey and that's been amazing to witness over time.
- This is all full of contradictions.



I look at these now and I think I look fine in both.  I think I always thought I was way uglier than I actually was.  Don't judge yourself so harshly, its a waste of time.


cada rosa tiene su espina

What goes on in my head?  Why am I translating Every Rose Has Its Thorn into Spanish?

(okay, this is why.  i was in line at the grocery store and on the radio was a julieta venegas song that i used to listen to a lot, and i realized i could still sing along in spanish, and then remembered when i first moved to spain and taught myself all the lyrics to david bisbal's mega hit "ella" and how i still remember the vocab and sentence structure from it, and then i thought about how i've since known how to say "thorn", and then i was like, oh man that poison song is so good, and then this lead to me mentally translating the chorus on my walk home.)

Poison lyrics - Every Rose Has Its Thorn

I'm going to try really hard to not look up any words.  Okay here goes.  Notes about the process at the bottom.

"Cade Rosa Tiene Su Espina" por... Veneno

Ambos de nosotros nos acuestamos en silencio profundo en plena noche
Aunque nos acuestamos cercanos, sentamos kilos (instead of miles, obviously) aparte adentro
Fue algo que dice o algo que hice
Salian mis palabras no buenas
Aunque intente no dolerte
Aunque intente
Pero supongo que es por eso que dicen

Cada rosa tiene su espina
Como cada noche tiene su amanecer
Como cada vaquero canta su triste triste cancion
Cada rosa tiene su espina
...si lo hace

Escucho nuestra cancion favorita de juego en el radio
El DJ dice amor as un juego de lo que facil viene, facil se va
Pero me prugunto, si el lo sabe?
Ha siente asi?
Y yo se que estarias aqui ahora mismo
Si yo pudiera decirte en comoquiera manera
Supongo que

Cada rosa tiene su espina
Como cada noche tiene su amanecer
Como cada vaquero canta su triste triste cancion
Cada rosa tiene su espina

Aunque ha pasado mucho tiempo
Todavia me siento tanto dolor
Como un cuchillo que se corta, el herido mejora
Pero esa cicztriz, esa cicatriz se queda

Yo se que pudiera salvar una vida esta noche si saberia lo que decir
En vez de hacer el amor, fuimos en nuestras vias separadas
Y ahora se dicen que encuentraste alguien nuevo
Y que yo nunca valeria mucho a ti
A escucharlo me rasgar de adentro
Y verte me corta como un cuchillo

Cada rosa tiene su espina
Como cada noche tiene su amanecer
Como cada vaquero canta su triste triste cancion
Cada rosa tiene su espina

looked up lie down - acostar (damn, first line!)
I'm so bad with reflexive verbs - lie ourselves down, feel some way
did my words not come out right - how to say
but i guess thats why they say - how
looked up playing on the radio
looked up easy come easy go
tears me up - can't think of verb for "tear" - oh its rasgar, I never would have gotten that
google translate is nice
looked up "yeah it does", I initially said yeah it has
I thought dawn was crepusculo, but its amanecer DAMN IT
If i could have let you know somehow - yeah that part is hard, and I looked it up and i didnt say it right at all, but im leaving it to preserve the integrity me me pretending to know how to say all this (si hubiera podido saberle hacer)
Had to look up poison and chorus

Here are the other two songs I was talking about earlier:

This is not by David Bisbal nor is it called "Ella."  I feel like my whole life is a lie.



things i love more than other things

Yeah yeah, I sound like a seventeen year old writing her MySpace profile back in 2005.  "I'll cutely list all the things I love in a deliberate yet random way and everyone will care!" 

Oh well. 

Also, I guess a more accurate comparison would be to that bitch who sang "A Few of My Favorite Things."

But lame concept or not, I've spent a lot of time talking about things that bother me.  Now it's time to showcase some stuff that doesn't bother me.  And if some people (cough MEAGAN cough) think that this is not an interesting idea for a list, well I don't care, WHO NEEDS YOU.

Okay here it is:






blue cheese

ice cream (or any cold creamy desert iteration thereof)




travel shows



leisure time


soft t-shirts



medium rare steak


vodka martini up, little bit dirty, and do you have blue cheese stuffed olives?  Thanks.





thrift stores

bloody marys

dumb comedy movies

that genre of music i'll call "soulful women playing piano and singing"


bleak industrial scenery

doing easy math

large bodies of water

artsy postcards

long showers


riding bikes

going out to eat good food on a friday night

homemade iced tea


laughing my ass off

90's rap

arranging words in just the right way


singing in a dramatic fashion



virgen de guadalupe art

keeping current on the lexicon of teenagers

the idea of going kayaking

cheddar cheese

trains and buses

peanut butter


pajama pants


olive oil

action movies

aggressive dancing

beer out of an ice cold schooner

looking people in the eye when you cheers

those little burger joints that one only seems to come by in socal

people who are terrible at being social


joking around

the trifecta of garlic, salt, and pepper

going out to breakfast with james

fat babies

mosaic tile


heart to heart talks



charcuterie plates

empty beaches

when you bake something and you get your hands all up in there mixing the dough

the window seat

space heaters

spooky looking trees


little white christmas lights used as indoor decor


catchy songs


compliments (incoming and outgoing)


thai coconut soup

the feeling when you dislike someone/something but then you change your mind and its a huge relief and you're like, oh i could have felt this way all along


melted cheese

sun dried tomatoes packed in oil

chips and salsa

white family taco night at my parents' house

a big ol' salad

For more things that I love more than other things, see most items on this list.



I'm going through a part of life where I realize that families shrink.  Or rather, I realized recently that my family is shrinking, and I think, this is just what happens.

I went back to Peoria with my parents and James for a family reunion.  My paternal extended family is for the most part unfamiliar to me now.  Almost all of the really old generation is gone.  There were no little Lutheran midwestern folk in cute little sweaters and outdated hairstyles.  My grandfather, 98 years old, blind and pretty much deaf, is the only one left.  My dad's brother was there, who I really like.  He got a divorce a while back and his kids (my first cousins) don't really associate with my side of the family anymore.

My mom's brother Dave died earlier this year.  I grew up with him.  I miss him a lot and and often find myself dumbly shocked that I'll never see him again.  Him and my aunt split up a couple years ago and even though I've known her my whole she has mostly kept her distance since then.

My relationship with my brother is beyond repair. 

I've hardly made any truly close friends in this decade.  I guess you sort of stop meeting people recreationally, and I think for me drinking whenever I'm around others insures that I keep all of my new friends on a surface level.

James' little brother and parents are in Boston.  Thank god I really love them all.

So, I dunno.  Is this why people have kids?  So that it's not just four people at the table on Thanksgiving?  I feel like I've essentially lived all of my life with this loneliness that won't go away, and furthermore I'm unreasonably (irrationally, paranoid-ally, unfounded-ly) sure that I'll pass it on.


eight years ago



to me
yeah that's right you can't handle this (handle this)
handle when i serve up an ellipsis
you're a little bitch (little bitch)
ain't got no 'ppreciation
for some punctuation?

got ta sign off (right now)
click the window CLOSE OUT
put the block in my face
i'm about to copy n paste

dot dot dot
dot dot dot



to meagan

BUH chicka buh chicka BUH BUH BUH

homes dont play wit dat-ellipsis-fake-homey SHIT
yeah best believe!
had to go to dictionary DOT COM you ass fuckin BITCH
cuz yo i thoutchoo was talking bout those graphs in high school but i guess NOT
pull that shit again and your ass be SHOT

i ain' got no Ps witcha punctchooaySHUN
but son...
a dat                smugness


im out, yo


sensitivity observations

I remember when I first moved to Santa Barbara at 18 years old, I regularly used the terms "retarded" and "gay" to describe something negative or not advantageous.

My housemate and first UCSB friend, AM, pointed out that both of those words were mean spirited and offensive one day when we were hot-boxing her room.  She said it was easy to substitute them, and from then on, substitute them I did.

I now use "idiotic" and "lame."  Though, both of those essentially mean disabled, right?  Is that even any better?

Environmental Guilt/Blame
Yesterday I was driving home from the grocery store.  I was stopped at a red with some dude walking next to me on the sidewalk, and I saw him very forcefully throw his plastic fast food cup into the bushes.  My initial reaction was disgust and mild outrage.  He's fucking LITTERING?  Who does that?  What a dick!  What's he gonna do next, kill a whale??

But then I thought, oh wait, I drove 200 miles today in a large luxury sedan that takes premium gas, and I drank two bottles of water and threw them both away when I was done without any attempt to recycle, and then I bought a part of a cow to eat, whose methane farts are destroying the world.

And I was like, who's the asshole now.