Abnormally Normal Living

I have never had a normal schedule. Some days I start work at 4 am; some days I work until 1 am. I don't get traditional weekends off. Sometimes my "weekend" is Tuesday and Wednesday. However, one recent "traditional" weekend, my friend Meaghan and I decided to make a list and see how many of the “normal” weekend things we could accomplish. We didn’t have Saturday off, but we did have Saturday night and all day Sunday to see how normal we could be. However, like with everything I do, nothing is ever normal.

Normal Activity #1: Go to a bar with a friend.

Normal activity #1 Turned Abnormal: We go to a tiki bar. No, I do not live in Hawaii nor was this some retro-chic place in Hollywood that charges $15 for a cocktail. It’s a dive tiki bar in North Hollywood that Meaghan described as like “being inside of a coconut. With puffer fish!” To add to the abnormality, there is a DJ spinning not the hottest Tiki-themed music, but spinning the typical dance/hip hop music you would hear at any other place on a Saturday night. Who else could have found a place that looks like a coconut with puffer fish hanging from the ceiling yet plays seemingly normal music?

Normal Activity #2: Dance with strangers in said bar.

Normal Activity #2 Turned Abnormal: On any given Saturday night, there will be a female getting drunk in celebration of her birthday. However, how often is the drunk, birthday girl a woman turning 40 who likes to grind on everyone while they are bellying-up to the bar? Normally, when a young lady has someone grinding on her from behind, it’s some creepy guy who usually smells like a mixture of body odor and too much Drakkar Noir. To top it off, who else can say that they joined a conga line that went throughout the bar?

Normal Activity #3: Use a restroom with a questionable level of cleanliness.

Normal Activity #3 Turned Abnormal: When a girl walks out of the restroom and says, “Don’t flush the toilet paper down the toilet because it won’t flush,” you know you’re in for a ride. However, when you walk into a restroom where a toilet has obviously overflowed recently and is in the process of doing so again, you do the only thinkable thing: plunge the toilet. Who else can say they plunged a toilet in a public restroom? (And may or may not have used the urinal later in the night when the women’s room finally broke beyond repair…)

Normal Activity #4: Make plans for Sunday brunch.

Normal Activity #4 Turned Abnormal: Originally brunch plans were for 10 am…then 1030 am…then kept getting later as the night went on which ended up being set for noon…Ok maybe that’s not that abnormal…

Normal Activity #5: Sleep late on Sunday morning. (Bet you thought I was going to say “go to church” huh?)

Normal Activity  #5 Turned Abnormal: So I guess it’s not that abnormal but I used to be able to sleep until 11 am and still wish I was sleeping more. But this particular Sunday, when all I wanted to do was sleep, I could not keep my eyes shut past 7:30am. I did force myself to stay in bed, but it’s just not the same as waking up with the sun already high in the sky. Hmm...maybe I should have gone and seen what this whole "church" thing is all about...I was up early enough for it, right?

Normal Activity #6: Enjoy brunch.

Normal Activity #6 Turned Abnormal: Oh man, it looks like my abnormally normal weekend is beginning to look totally normal.

Normal Activity #7: Run errands to prepare for the week.

Normal Activity #7 Turned Abnormal: It was beginning to look like we were turning into totally normal weekenders. By the time we got to the supermarket, it was almost complete. Almost.  After deciding half way through the trip that we needed a cart, Meaghan somehow found one that not only didn’t work properly, but almost took me over into the cart when it locked right outside the market. Normal people would have attempted to get the cart out of way or get it to the car. Not me. I told Meg to grab some bags and leave it right where it was, totally blocking the entrance. The whole way to the car the two of us laughed hysterically about how when things seems to be getting normal, something nearly sends me ass over end to remind us that “normal” is just not how we live.

Sorry, Charlotte, You're Not Welcome Here!

As excited as I am to be living on my own, there is one thing that I am simply not ok with: spiders.

I was taught from a young age that spiders are not to be killed. My dad used to tell us you want spiders around because they catch and eat all the other bugs. So, if you see a spider, don’t kill it! That being said, I don’t particularly like spiders. I am not afraid of them, like I am of birds, but I don’t really appreciate that spiders can crawl up into my nose and burrow into my brain. I also don’t like how they will suddenly drop from the ceiling and chill right at eye level so when I walk into a room and run into it, I am suddenly doing an embarrassing dance to get the thing off me. I won’t lie, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets didn’t help a whole lot with my dislike either. As stereotypical and traditional as it is, Dad was always the one to get rid of spiders. I made a deal with him from a young age that if he would take them away, I would not kill them.

Therefore, when I was in my very own apartment where there is no Dad, I had a bit of a panic attack as I watched my first spider crawl out of my air conditioning vent.

It wasn’t a huge spider but it was definitely one capable of eating any other bug in its path. It crossed the entire wall above my bookcases and television set and settled into a corner. As I began drafting a letter to my landlord in my head,(Dear Tony, A big spider has moved in with me. While I appreciate all that spiders do in the way of keeping the bug population down, I do not feel like this new arrangement will work. Since my dad has passed away and can no longer help me get spiders out of the house, I have to concede and give the apartment to the spider. Best, Kimmi) the spider crawled a little closer to me and I had an enlightened moment:

I’ll trap it in a glass then take it outside.

It really was a perfect plan because the spider had moved closer to me and was now flat on the wall. I went to the kitchen and, after much speculation, decided to use a margarita glass. It had the widest mouth but it was shallow so there was very little chance I wouldn’t be able to get the spider out. I grabbed the old Ulta catalog and in just one try got the spider safely trapped in the glass!!!

With one hand under the catalog and one hand holding the stem of the margarita glass, I made it all the way to the door before I realized one thing: how do I open the door? Very carefully I balanced the margarita glass on the catalog and opened the door.

I got two steps from my door and lifted the glass. The spider took off so fast it made me jump and I ended up just throwing the catalog and running back into my apartment and locking the door behind me.

I’m not sure which is funnier: that I tried to save a spider and ended up getting freaked out and throwing it out onto our driveway and then locking it out or the picture of my landlord going to get into his car and seeing my Ulta catalog on the ground and wondering what the hell kind of tenant he has welcomed into his building.

On a side note, I saw another (or maybe the same?) spider in my shower a few days later. This time, I turned the water on and drowned the bastard. I figure since Dad is not around to take the spiders outside, my agreement to not kill them is null. Sorry, Dad.

Great Need Vs. Want Debate of 2011

Anyone who knows me knows that I can logic my way out of a paper bag, especially when it comes to shopping. I can convince anyone that spending $100 on a new dress is totally worth it in 2.5 seconds flat. Does my logic make sense? Not always. But usually people get so annoyed with me that they just let me win to change the subject. Or they are left paralyzed in confusion, thus allowing me to make my purchases in silence. However, when it came to getting the things I needed for my apartment, I needed to make sure I didn’t get too carried away.

I was searching for mostly kitchen stuff. Plates, bowls, glasses, pots, pans, utensils, etc. As it turns out, the only things I owned for a kitchen were as follows: A popcorn maker, a French press, a coffee maker, a coffee grinder, a cocktail shaker, a collection of shot glasses, a set of margarita glasses complete with a pitcher and a salt plate, and a mug that says “The Bitch is Back.” (Purchased on my first adult trip to Vegas while Elton John was still there. The fact that it’s totally appropriate for my life right now is not lost on me…) However, unless I was planning on eating nothing but popcorn out of the bowl it is popped in while drinking margaritas shaken in the cocktail shaker followed by coffee in a “The Bitch is Back” mug, I needed a lot of stuff.

In addition to needing the essentials, I had a few essentials that were essential only to someone like me. I had been saving up for a very long time to live on my own. Free couch aside, I was not going to buy used pots and pans at a garage sale or get mismatching plates from the 99 Cents Store. I will not use glasses that are chipped or that don’t go together and I will not be content drinking wine out of my “Bitch is Back” mug. If I was going to make my own home, I was going to use my hard-earned money and do it how I see fit.

To keep me on track, enter my friend Meaghan. She suggesting that I make a list of needs and one of wants and then she would help me decide what really was a need. For everything on my “need” list, she made me come up with three good reasons and then she would be the final say of what was a need and what was a want and whether those “wants” were worth the money. Hence, the Great Need vs. Want Debate of 2011 began.

For example: A Crock-Pot? I could start something in the morning and then come home to a finished dinner. I can make large batches of soups and stews and then freeze them to have ready-made food for when I get home to late to really cook. I can make chili. (On a side note: Meaghan loves my chili and I knew I would win with that. I really should’ve gone to law school…) Needless to say, she let me get a Crock-Pot.

There were some items I wouldn’t budge on (Wine glasses and mortar and pestle.) and others that everyone insisted I needed (a blender…That I have used once in two months. Thanks guys) and some that were just plain shot down (Martini glasses…Apparently I’m not Frank Sinatra and am not encouraged to live like him…They are still on my list though.) Yet, the longest leg of the debate involved salt and pepper shakers. Every argument I had, Meaghan had a counter argument. This is a paraphrase of the argument that lasted about 30 minutes in an aisle in Target.

Me: I need them because I will need to put them on the table. What? I’m going to use the big container I buy salt and pepper in?

Meaghan: You don’t even have a table. Or room for a table.

Me: But I have the counter. And I’ll have stools.

Meaghan: Eventually. You’re not buying stools right now because you can’t find any that you like or are in your price range. So, therefore you don’t need shakers.

Me: But what about when people come over? What am I supposed to do?

Meaghan: Give them the containers they come in.

Me: No.

Meaghan: Actually, you can buy disposable shakers at the grocery store for a lot cheaper that these.

Me: Yes but what about the environment? I want something I can reuse.

Meaghan: So why not buy cloth napkins and extra dishtowels so you don’t have to use paper towels?

Me: Because washing all of that costs money. I don’t pay for water, so washing and reusing shakers is a cost efficient way for me to help the environment.

Meaghan: Yes, but why not just collect bottles and cans and then that would offset the cost of washing. Plus, then you can afford to continue to buy the disposable ones.

Me: But the disposable ones are so ugly.

Meaghan: Being pretty doesn’t mean it’s a need.

I eventually gave up, letting her know that I would buy some as soon as she wasn’t with me. But at dinner that night, I permanently borrowed some from the restaurant.

I would call that a happy compromise. (Except maybe for the restaurant…)

You Want to Sit at the Bar?!

Anyone who knows me, knows that I love beer. I didn’t always, but thanks to Alec and the fabulous staff at Timmy Nolans, I have come around. I am wiling to try just about any beer now and I actually have clear favorites.

While I was hanging out with my grandparents, I was telling Grandpa about my new favorite, Downtown Brown from Lost Coast Brewery in Northern California. I discovered it like I typically do: sitting on a stool at Timmy Nolans. I wanted to try something new but I didn’t know what. I looked at the tap handles while Rocky, one of my fabulous beer professors, explained all the different kind of beers they have that I haven't already tried. One of the handles caught my eye. It was wood with a kind Picasso-esqe drawing of a man at a table with a beer and buildings in the background. I turn to Rocky and say, “I’ll take that one. I think the handle is pretty.”

Downtown Brown is a brown ale with a bit of sweetness to it, kind of caramelly. It’s not too heavy and there is not a whole lot of carbonation. Overall, it has enough flavors to keep me satisfied. Yes, I expect a beer to keep me satisfied from first sip to last drop. Is that too much to ask?

I was telling all of this to my Grandpa over dinner and he said, “Well I have to try it. They probably have it at that Yardhouse. That’s where the young guys go.” Why he added that on, but if that’s where the young guys go, I need to be there.

So, the next night, after we went to a movie, we went to the Yardhouse. If you have never been to the Yardhouse (it might just be Yardhouse, but I am not a frequent visitor, so I really don’t know), you should go. They have 100 beers on tap and the bartenders are pretty knowledgeable. Or at least ours was.

When we got there, Grandma walked up the hostess and asked for a table for 3, to which Grandpa replied, “BJ, let’s sit at the bar.”

Grandma whips her head around and says, disgusted, “You want to sit at the BAR?”

There was an awkward, staring moment between the two, so I turned to the hostess and said, “I guess we are going to sit at the bar.”

Grandma huffs off, horrified that we are actually going to sit at the bar and points out to Grandpa that he might not be able to get up onto the bar stools. He, in true Jack Brown fashion, shows her up by getting into the stool just fine. It might have taken him a few tries, but he did it.

The bartender barely gets over to us when Grandpa says, “Do you have Downtown Brown?”

The bartender, who clearly had a whole speech he was supposed to give us and is now thrown out of his comfort zone, “Umm..Yes? Downtown Brown, you said? Yes, yes, we have that.”

“Well that’s what I’ll have.”

Grandma orders a soda and then the three of them look at me, who has just started drooling over the possibilities. It must have been a full minute before I realized they were waiting on me, but I finally said I needed a minute to think about it.

The bartender comes back with Grandpa’s Downtown Brown and Grandma’s soda and waits for me to respond. I decide to go with a delicious stout called Old Rasputin and, in pure bliss, we enjoy our beers.

The best part, however, came when we got the bill. I had already intended to pay because I just spent 4 days at their house and it’s the polite thing to do when you’re a guest. We had ordered calamari as well, so I was expecting it to be a little expensive. When we got the bill and I looked at the total, I almost jumped for joy. Our beers were half off and so was the calamari! We had walked in after 10 p.m., during their reverse Happy Hour! Let me tell you, there is no better feeling in the world than going to pay for something and having it be half of what you expected.

Although, sitting at a bar, having beer with my grandparents "where the young guys go" might be a close second.

Adventures from Grandma's Closet

So what does one do with 4 days off in August?

Go to the desert, of course.

My grandparents just sold their house, which is great because they have been trying to for over a year now. The problem? They have 3500 square feet worth of stuff that they now need to get into about 1500 square feet. (They don’t have a place yet, so please pray for them!) Therefore, I was assigned by my mom and aunts to help them get rid of stuff. Obviously, my mom and aunts don’t know me very well, otherwise they would know that I am a bit of a hoarder and would be of little help. But I tried.

I figured out who I get my penchant for shopping from. Grandma has enough clothes to open up a boutique, not that anyone would actually buy anything. The best pieces had to be 3 nylon tracksuits, in pastel pink, teal and blue, with tapered pants and, the best part, SHOULDER PADS. I wasn’t really old enough to know, but apparently, in the ‘80’s, people who weren’t linebackers would workout with shoulder pads.

Grandma tried to tell me that these were the fashions and I shouldn’t judge her. I assured her that I understood what the styles were, but why the hell had she kept them for so long?! She couldn’t give me an answer. Nor could she answer what year she had bought them in or when the last time she wore one of them was. She tried to blame her memory loss on old age, but I think it was from shame.

Once I was done with Grandma, I tried to work on Grandpa and his books. I now know who I get my book obsession from. He was worse than Grandma, though, because he just ignored me and told me to come help pull boxes down in the garage. In 110 degree heat. It was the most fun you could have without actually having any.

When I went back into the den to try to get rid of (read: steal) some of Grandpa’s books, Grandma was looking through photo albums. There were some on a high shelf, so of course I was given the task of pulling them down so she could go through them. Fyi, photo albums are HEAVY. However, once they were down, we started looking through them and it brought back a lot of memories. There were pictures from every embarrassing stage of my life, along with every embarrassing stage of my cousin’s, aunt’s and uncle’s lives. (To all my family members: you're welcome. I thought about scanning every horrible photo and putting it on Facebook, but I decided against it.) It was so much fun!

Then, I struck gold.

I was looking through an album from one of the many trips my grandparents took and I found a picture of Grandma in a row boat with a few other ladies, WEARING ONE OF THE TRACKSUITS. I looked at the outside of the album where Grandma had written the date.

“Hey Grandma, do you recognize this outfit?,” I said, pulling out the photo so she could take a closer look.

She knew where I was going with this but she played along. “Yes, isn’t that one of the suits we gave away yesterday?” Yes, she called them “suits.” Not “tracksuit” or “jogging suit,” but suit.

“Yes. Guess what year this picture is from?”

“I don’t know.” She looked a little nervous now.

“1989. Grandma, those tracksuits are old enough to go to a bar and order you a Perfect Manhattan.”

She then told me she thought Grandpa needed some more help in the garage and politely got rid of me.

I tried to steal the picture to scan, but for an 80-year-old, my grandma is pretty quick!

A Post of Awesomeness

You’ve got your sunscreen, your beaches with bikini-clad babes, your poolside trashy novels, and your BBQs. Aaahhh…it must be summer.

I have actually had an action packed summer thus far and I have to admit, I’m damn glad to be working at Starbucks. If I was still working two jobs, or just working at an office from 9-5, I wouldn’t have done some of the awesome things I’ve been doing.

Let’s start with some traveling. (Ok one trip but still, one is better than none.)

I went up to San Francisco for my cousin’s son’s 1st birthday party, which to me was just an excuse to get to SF. Now, I know most people wouldn’t consider me the child’s birthday type, but it was a blast. They had it at a daycare center, so the kids could play and the parents and guests could socialize without worrying about the kids running off or something worse. Plus, I got to hang with my amazing cousin Lisa and her husband, my favorite cousin, Derek. (It’s a long story) I also got to see my VERY pregnant(and also amazing) cousin Cheryl and her husband, Mark, along with their 2-year-old son, Jack. It was awesome to get to spend time with these cousins because I looked up to both of them when I was growing up and I love the women they have become and continue to admire them both. As an added bonus, Derek’s brother, Tobe, and parents, Bruce and Ava (Eva? Lisa, correct me please) are pretty friggin’ extraordinary, so I got to play around with Bruce’s Kindle (I kind of want one…or a Nook…or some money to be able to afford it) and then have a debate with Bruce, Ava, Grandma and Grandpa vs. Me, Lisa, Derek, and Tobe about social networking and the Internet. It was so fantastic I can’t even put it into words. That was just Saturday!

On Sunday, I met my friend Nicola, who was visiting from England. Yeah, I have a friend who lives in England. How awesome is that? So we just grabbed some coffee and lunch and then walked around a lot. It’s amazing how the simplest things can be so perfect. I think meeting at the Ferry Building and then walking around the piers with the Bay Bridge as our backdrop had something to do with it. Then, I took MUNI (Oh, how I miss public transportation!!!!) to Golden Gate Park and waited for Lisa and Derek to finish at the Science Center. I grabbed an Its It (Reason number 9 billion that San Francisco is tremendous) from a cart and just sat down on a bench under some trees and read. Then, when Derek and Lisa were done, we went down under the bridge and took some pictures. I was so incredibly happy.

Now, the beach.

I love the beach. I grew up in So Cal and we used to go to the beach ALLLL the time. But here’s the crummy thing about the beach: you really can’t (read: shouldn’t) go alone. So, I have been dragging Meaghan and Jason. They are the perfect companions because we can talk and chat and gossip and then all just sit there reading magazines, writing, or just staring out, contemplating the vastness of the Pacific. On top of that, they are both kids and love to play in the water, so even though I don’t want to live in the water like Meaghan, I don’t have to brave it on my own. We’ve gone twice and I see many more outings in our future. Perhaps with an umbrella next time. I wonder if I can snag Grandma and Grandpa’s UCLA one we used to use every summer?

Next: the pool. (Specifically, Jason’s pool.)

I’ve gone twice to Jason’s pool and both times, it’s been lovely. There are plenty of lounge chairs and the water isn’t too chlorinated. It’s only 3 feet deep so it’s great for just floating around and chatting. There’s some shade, too, so if it’s hellishly hot, we can always find some cover. It’s also not too big or loud to where you can’t hear the person in the pool or the people sitting out. Today, we were out there for the entire afternoon and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Again, simple but perfect.

A Summer Staple: The 4th of July BBQ(Served up with some cheese)

I actually wasn’t planning on doing anything for the 4th because I was working. I figured I’d work then go home to some leftovers. But then I got an invite from Alec and Laura, and since I got of early, I decided to go. Had myself some hotdogs, chips, beer…you know all the healthy stuff. Then they started the fire and we had s’mores. I think the best was how musically inclined their friends are and we sang (I’m a little ashamed to say) “Party in the USA” around the campfire. Then, during the fireworks, they sang “The Star Spangled Banner.” It was super cheesy and hysterically funny, but at the same time kind of perfect for the moment.

Now this is living….