December 2008 to Now.

Got laid off from my (semi-)fancy magazine job, but I didn't care that much. Great experience, low pay. Note: No job in the magazine industry is fancy. Looks like six to ten of my acquaintances have had the same thing happen to them recently, so I don't feel like a total loser. Left for North Carolina two days after my last day on the job. Immediately upon landing headed to NorthLake mall in Charlotte. Only 4 shopping days till Christmas! Bought my boyfriend a couple books-- one of my favorites, Like Water for Chocolate, and The Koran-- He said he wants to read the major religious texts this year. Got the fuck out of there before my head exploded. Headed to Concord Mills, another mall full of fat, sluggish shoppers. Got a 20-minute massage in the middle of the mall by a small young Asian kid. Worried that my ass crack was hanging out of my jeans the whole time, but then sorta got into it (Not in a sexual way). Met back up with my mom, feeling tired and sick, stopped at a craft store for some yarn. Spent the rest of the night on my parents' new leather couch engulfed in their plasma screen making a scarf for my stepmom. Woke up the next morning feeling mildly hungover even though I hadn't drunk anything. Headed to another mall. Bought my dad a Studs Terkel book, my boyfriend a robe, socks, and underwear, and my mom the new one by John Grisham-- Oh and my brother a Panthers jersey. At some point, bought my mom some other stuff, but this is all getting boring by now. Christmas Eve morning I woke up still feeling exhausted, but feeling like I could run a marathon from the adrenaline I was pulling out of the reserves. Headed to my grandparents'. My grandma has an embroidery machine, so I embroidered some gifts for my boyfriend's family. Got in a fight with my mom, because I needed to meet up with an old friend, Maren, from college, but went anyway. Had shitty wine at an Italian restaurant where they tried to charge us for Frangelico that we didn't drink. I almost told them to leave it on the bill, and bring us the shots-- but didn't. Went to my Aunt's for my family's traditional Christmas Eve celebration. Played Christmas charades and the gag gift game. Wished there was alcohol or a nap involved. Stayed up till 3am helping my mom wrap my own presents, and thinking to myself how much a waste wrapping presents is. Christmas morning started at 9am. Stockings, presents, ate quiche. Got to my dad's by 11:30am- presents-- headed to my grandma's. Nursed a glass of wine. Headed to my other grandma's. Walked into a fight between my teenage cousin and my mom because she told him to stop texting at the table. Ah, kids these days! After dinner everyone is forced to open gifts one by one-- a close equivalent to a 3-hour Indian burn. Loved to see the family though. Back to my mom's. My friend, Matt came over to chat with me while I packed. We went to high school together, and he lived in NYC for awhile, now he's in Austin. I miss him. The next morning I was up by 7am and at the airport by 8am to head to San Francisco. My plane was delayed by 3 hours, but I made my connecting flight in Chicago by 5 minutes. On the plane to SF was trapped by the window by a lady with MS who couldn't move her legs. To get in and out, I had to fully straddle her, so I didn't get my free soda for fear of not being able to get out to pee. Met my boyfriend's parents for the first time. Felt anxiety over whether to shake hands or hug upon meeting them. I awkwardly did both. Had my third Christmas dinner of the season, but I was starving, so it was okay. Went to Fisherman's Wharf, and saw the seals, but most of them were retired for the winter. Had a decent soft shell crab sandwich, and bought some greens at the fresh foods market for New Years day. Tried every free sample I came across. Also, got a migraine, and felt like I was going to puke later in the day. Took a nap. Went to a restaurant called Bix that was all decorated like the 20's for my boyfriend's parents' anniversary. I mean, it was decorated like that all the time, not just for the dinner. Had marrow bones that were so rich the marrow dripped down my chin, tuna ceviche with jalapenos, and lamb sirloin. My headache was gone, so we met my friend, Leti from NYC at another bar that I forget the name of in the Mission, and later danced at a bar called the Knockout that my boyfriend claims he had been to before, but I dunno. Kind of drunk, we cabbed it back to the Marina, the hoity toity neighborhood my BF's sister lives in. Up and out the door by 10am for a ride to Napa Valley. We'd rented a van and driver, but the twists and turns on the way there were making me nauseous. Stopped at In-n-Out Burger. People rave about that place, but I'd take Wendy's or Taco Bell over that mash any day of the week. Yes, I got it "animal style." Stopped at a bunch of wineries. Ended up with three bottles in comparison to Mike's family's 6 cases. A meager, but good start to our collection. Napa is beautiful though. Go there to dream. That night, I think we had sushi at a place called Zushi Puzzle.  Sashimi, sake, rolls, the usual. I can't remember what we did later. Might have just had wine with Mike's fam. The next day walked from the Marina to Lower Haight. My legs are still burning from it. Found a rad vintage Betsey Johnson sweater dress at some thrift store there, ate pizza, and gave some away to some gutter punks. On the way there Mike realized the Butthole Surfers were playing the Fillmore, and got Gibby to put us on the list. I was psyched because we didn't get to see them in New York. This old hippie was doing those crazy psychedelic oil projections behind the band, which was cool. Just to note: The bouncers at the Fillmore are fucking dickwads. Met a girl outside the venue from Spain. I think her name was Ana. She had recently married her ex-boyfriend of eight years and said, "As long as you love, nothing else matters!" Grabbed a cab to a bar in the Mission appropriately named Casanova's to hook up with Mike's friends. The ratio of dudes to girls was 4:1. I went in to pee, and overheard a convo between two highly made up gals, "Brian Boitano? Don't we know him?" "Yeahhh. Didn't he go to --insert high school name here--?" Regarding the scrawling, "I <3 Brian Boitano!" on the wall by the bathroom mirror. As I was jetting out of the place, ran into Mike's friends who ushered us to a bar around the corner surrounded by bikers. Slow-danced to Love and Rockets, So Alive with Mike, and established it as "our song." I know, barf. On the cab ride home, had an arab cab driver who wore a purple turban, and good-heartedly talked to us about love and marriage. Next morning realized our legs weren't the best mode of transport, and took the 22 Bus to Pacific Heights for some upscale thrifting. I got an incredibly short vintage Ungaro dress to wear New Years Eve. It's turquoise and looks good with my hair. Mike found an awesome three piece suit, but it was a tiny bit too tight, so he decided against it. Made fajitas for Mike's sister and her boyfriend, and rang in the New Year at a dive-y sports bar in the Marina called the Horseshoe. Mike's sister's boyfriend is obsessed with all sports, but especially the Oakland Raiders. Mike bought everyone tequila shots to toast instead of champagne. We wanted to get out of the Marina, so we went to another party that Leti told us about that was basically a college kegger thrown by adult goths and ravers-- Or those reminiscing "the good ol' days." She wasn't there though, so we met her at another party full of party kids whom I felt I might have been friends with a few years ago. We arrived back home at 6am. Slept the majority of the next day. Saw that Benjamin Button movie. The next day was Mike's 30th birthday. We had really good vietnamese in the Financial District, hot toddys at Vesuvio where I ran into my long lost friend Adele who was bartending there, then took BART to Berkeley, which was totally pointless. I wanted to go to this little Ethiopian place I saw there, but met up with Mike's sister instead, who drove us back into the city, and steaks at Izzy's in the Marina. Got really drunk later on Manhattans at another dive that I liked better than the last one we were at. We returned home to take stupid drunk photos of each other that we can never show anyone. The next afternoon headed to the Mission again on a bus. Buses in SF are not like NYC subways. Quickly learned to sit in back, as sitting in front will force you to sit next to every homeless and/or crazy person smelling of urine/feces that boards. One guy got on with his own squishy butt cushion smelling like a booze factory, and made friends with another who thought he was Howdy Doody. Got Mike Mexican food at a place that looks like it could be in LA, and new shoes from a store that mostly sold colorful suits to pimps or those who wanted to look like them. The food was mediocre, but the shoes are A+. Arrived back in New York a couple nights ago. I've been sitting in my pajamas for a full day now staring at two unpacked suitcases.

To Do In 2009: 1.) Unpack suitcases 2.) Find job.

(This has been an homage to Bret Easton Ellis.)