Tales from La La Land

This post has absolutely nothing to do with Antoine Dodson , but ever since I saw the AD Halloween costume, I’m thinking I really need it.

Anyway, I did not fall of the ship. I can’t believe I haven’t blogged it out since going on the cruise.

Highlights:

- After a day at the pool, and a few shots of Patron, Brooke ripped Stephanie’s bathing suit. Apparently she did not like the style and took the Peta approach, “You should go naked rather than wear this old thing!”

- After said day at the pool, I found a place to watch the Oregon vs. Stanford football game. Unfortunately, I was sitting among a gaggle of UW fans who showed no mercy when Stanford went up by about 3 touchdowns. These people were not nice. I guess that rivalry travels to the high seas. Luckily for me, the Ducks tore Stanford a new ass in the second half and the Huskies were silenced.

- The Casino. I won exactly enough to cover my bar tab for 3 days. That makes explaining a bar tab to Bossman a LOT easier.

- I can’t decide if this is a highlight or what, but every evening there is a sit-down dinner. You are supposed to dress up and act fancy. On the first night, we’re all playing along, trying to be on our best behavior when out of nowhere someone gets on a microphone and tells everyone to stand up and get ready to dance. And before we know it, Get Low is BLASTING. First of all, explain to me how sweat dripping down yo balls is appropriate dinner music. Second of all, I don’t care how old you are, how sober you are or how prudish you are: This song will get under yo skin. And there we were – my mother included – getting low in front of a bunch of strangers who were trying to finish their crab cakes. It. was. horrifyingly. wrong. And so much fun!

- Family. Between my mom and Art, all of their children and grandchildren were present with the exception of Laef, Neil, and Steph’s and Neil’s kids, Nico and Elisa. It’s probably the first time that all of us have been in the same room in…well, ever.

Lowlights

- Ship music. I don’t think we heard any music that wasn’t from the 70s or 80s EXCEPT that first night at dinner when we heard Get Low. There was no Gaga. No G6 song. No Biggie Smalls. No Madonna. On second thought this might have been a good thing. No one needs to see a bunch of strangers dancing to Blow The Whistle in broad daylight.

- Sushi bar. So, there was one tiny sushi bar. Of course the line was super long. My sister and I decided to wait in line anyway. When we got to the front, there was no ordering anything. They handed us each a plate with 3 rolls on it. Ummm….three rolls does not a dinner make. If you want more, gotta get back in line. WTF. Sake for dinner, it is!

Other than that, it’s hard to point out lowlights when I was chillin’ on a boat instead of being at work. There was the hairy chest contest on Sunday though. This was the lowest of lowlights. These dudes were so proud to flaunt their huge guts. Then at one point they decided to up the ante and include a hairy back contest. Come on people. Why?

Don’t forget to hide yo wife, hide yo kids and hide yo husband this halloween. Cuz they rapin’ errbody.

Two years ago when Laef and I went to St. Louis we stayed at an Econo Lodge that overlooked the freeway and had a full-length mirror in the shower. It was a smoking room because, well because that’s all it offered. The bed was covered with one sheet – not a fitted sheet, mind you. Just one sheet strewn across the nasty-ass mattress.

Back then, we weren’t married, and we were still paying off credit cards. The fact that we were even staying at a Lodge (I liked to close my eyes and think of it as a snow lodge with walls made of the finest cedar) and not in a tent at O’Fallon Park was a big deal.

So, last week we went to St. Louis again, this time for a wedding. We were fortunate enough to have a room at the Casa Nick Dozier, so we weren’t faced with the dilemma of Econo Lodge round 2. Now, Nick’s shower doesn’t come with a full length mirror (BOO!), and the guest bed appeared to have two for real sheets on it (how classy!), but he did have a gigantic stack of Playboys in his bathroom.

I don’t think I’ve seen Laef’s eyes light up that much since I told him that I would learn how to change a flat tire. (I ordered AAA, which is basically the same thing. Shhh). When we first got to Nick’s house, we were there alone so Laef picked up 8 magazines, walked out of the bathroom and said, “I’m gonna catch up on guy stuff.”

Which was my cue to catch up girl stuff – a 2 hour nap. It was a Thursday afternoon, and normally I’d be chained to my cubicle and, Laef would be stressing about some basketball-related incident, but on this day we were looking at boobies and resting. It was the start of a perfect 4-day vacation.

Later that night, sufficiently rested and boobified, we took a cab to Busch Stadium to watch the Cardinals play. The cabbie ragged on the Cardinals the entire way to the stadium in a way that only a cabbie could rag on the home team, and by the time we got there we were half expecting the Cards to lose by14 runs.

But, this was our vacay! Laef has been talking about going to the Cardinals game for a month. So, of course they were going to win! And they did, 4-0.

On Friday we went to see Nick’s girlfriends band – Killing Vegas – play at Voo Doo lounge in the Harrah’s casino. In case you didn’t already know, girl bass players are super hot. And, Layla did not disappoint. We wandered between the lounge to watch the band, and the casino to play blackjack. I might have called the dealer an asshole once, but it was only because I double downed on an 11 and he gave me a 2. Who does that?

We strolled in at 3 a.m., which meant we didn’t get up until 11 a.m. on the wedding day. I have a completely different perspective of weddings now. Because I know how much work and thought goes into every single thing that happens before, during and after the ceremony. This couple went all out, providing a full open bar, which is very brave. And appreciated.

Also, this is what happens when you have a full bar at a wedding and are drunk by 10:30 p.m.: 7-11. Funyuns. Packaged chicken sandwich that requires microwaving. Frozen pizza. Bad news, people. Bad news. Right now as I’m typing this I am trying to understand why I did not think to get nachos. I am kind of upset that I missed my opportunity. Hopefully there will be another.

We flew home on Sunday. Back to reality. In a sad, boring house that doesn’t have Playboys.

(That I know of)

Laef and I are off to a wedding this weekend in St. Louis (don’t try to use this a way to burglarize our house, Sanch will be home and he has a babysitter coming by. Often.) so I’ve spent the past week packing. Or at least trying to organize what I will need. Eventually, I just threw everything I own into the suitcase, figuring it’d be easier to have options.

One thing missing, however, was a dress for the wedding. I own approximately 5 dresses. 4 are black, and one looks like this:

So, yeah, I’m not wearing the fuchsia pink bachelorette party dress to a fall wedding in Missouri. While I was trying on the different options, I decided I’d work around my fierce 5-inch black heels. Sometimes shoes make your forget that your dress is old. At this point, Laef walked into the bedroom and basically bitch-slapped the shoes right off my feet.

Laef: “NO FUCKING WAY ARE YOU WEARING THOSE!”

Me: “Um. Yes, I am. They make me look almost as tall as you.”

Laef: “No. You are going to get hurt.”

Me: “Beauty is pain. Besides, they make this dress look cuter.”

Laef: “You need a new dress for the wedding.”

Me: “Really?!”

So, apparently it is really important to Laef that I don’t break my ankle during our trip. Truthfully, I was having some concerns as well, but figured I’d have to get used to them at some point.

Anyway, last night I went dress shopping. I was by myself, enjoying some quality alone time (QAT). You don’t get a lot of QAT when you’re married, and sometimes you just want to wander around Nordstrom for three hours by yourself. I must have tried on no fewer than 30 dresses. I went in with an open mind, refusing to try on a single black dress. I tried on things that I normally wouldn’t, thinking that maybe it has a whole new life once you zip it up.

Here is where shopping alone can be a problem. Have you ever tried to zip a tight-ass strapless dress by yourself? It’s impossible. I tried to imagine what it would look like zipped all the way up, but eventually decided I was going to have to leave the confines of the dressing room and ask the sales lady to zip me. As soon as I walked out of the room, the door slammed behind me and locked.

Fuck.

I can’t find the sales lady, so I’m wandering around Nordstrom, holding up a dress and wearing my pink and white polk-a-dot socks. (BTW, another rule of thumb when trying on dresses: always remove your socks. OF COURSE the pretty party dress looks like shit when it’s paired with holey socks!). I pretty much wanted to die and decide to ask the random lady who is shopping to zip me. This is awkward because the dress is one size too small. I mean, it zips, but I would not be able to eat or drink anything during the wedding.

But, at least now I’m fully clothed and can begin my search for the sales lady. I finally find her, she let’s me back in to the dressing room and then the process of getting out of the dress begins.

Holy. Fuck.

I was sweating. Even if you get the dress unzipped (and, btw, it should be a rule that all dress zippers are on the side so that they are somewhat reachable), there’s the process of somehow removing your dress over your head (this requires you to bend completely over and do some kind of booty dance that will make you sweat even more).

Despite the fact that I needed a Clif Shot Block to finish the process without passing out, I was committed to the process, and by the end of it I found a dress that will work. It’s not black, and it has flowers on it. I never, ever wear flowers. It does, however, have black in it, so the black “hooker shoes” (Laef’s words) could still work. So, they are in the suitcase, and we will see what happens.

When I left Nordstrom, it was almost 9 p.m. Laef was home chilling with the Sanch, probably also enjoying some QAT. About halfway down Pico Blvd., I noticed a weird noise. Then my car starting veering to the right.

I was going to try and make it all the way home, but decided to turn down a very dark street and pull over.

Flat tire.

FUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Call Laef.

He comes.

Changes the tire.

And the whole time I’m watching him, I’m thinking: QAT is pretty sweet. But, sometimes, it’s really, really nice to have someone who can change a tire in 10-minutes flat.

Or to help you zip a dress.

The blog is suffering. I guess I can attribute it to writers block. There’s also a small part of me that rebelled after finishing the marathon. For months, I had to be diligent about running. The training became another thing in a never-ending to-do list.

Blogging is not necessarily a “to-do”. Obviously, if I don’t want to write, no one makes me. But, I do feel a little guilty when I leave it for weeks on end. Like I’m letting the domain go to waste. I mean, what is the point of owning the domain or having a blog if you never write on it?

This past weekend, Laef and I drove to the Bay Area to visit my family. If nothing else, I wanted to put something up for my sister and Art, who claim to check everyday.

So, here’s a brief history of what’s been going on post-marathon.

The weekend after the race, I went to San Diego for a girls night with Erin, Debbie and Kristen. It was exactly what I needed to get me out of my funk. I hadn’t been able to run the whole week, and I definitely felt “off”. Maybe it’s because my feet looked like they went through the woodchipper Fargo style. Seriously, my feet were a hot mess, and my girl Erin either didn’t want to be seen with me in flip flops, or she’s just a sweet girl (all signs point to all of the above) so she treated me to a pedicure in San Diego before the start of girls night.

It is amazing how far a little pampering can go. I didn’t even know my toes could look that cute. I ventured way out of my comfort zone (I’m usually a black nail polish kind of girl) and got bright pink toes with little white flowers. Again. WHO am I? It was so fun to sit with a friend, read trashy magazines and have my feet rubbed.

Debbie sent us a message the morning of girls night and warned “Make sure you carb load for lunch. You’re going to need a solid base for tonight.”

Erin and I decided that wine and sushi were a perfectly acceptable base.

Girls night was, um, goofy. Pictures have been deleted to protect everyone. You know, in the event they decide to run for public office.  Let’s just say that there were multiple costume changes, wigs, sunglasses, bright red lipstick, and a lot of vodka. We capped the evening by watching Betty White on SNL. I may or may not have passed out on the couch in full makeup and a sparkly blue tank top I stole out of Kristen’s closet. (I wanted my girls night clothes to be as cute as Debbie’s, and felt very un-girly in my UCLA sweatshirt).

This past weekend, Laef and I headed North to visit family. What it boiled down to was the usual – my sister and Neil did a lot of cooking (I made the mimosas so I did contribute something); my sister stole from her younger baby brother; I dominated everyone at Wii table tennis (wakeboarding is a totally different story); Laef, Neil and Mike actually combined to drink 5 beers; I somehow convinced Neil to allow the TV to be on collegiate softball; I gave Sophie candy at 10 a.m. which is apparently a big no-no for kids; and I left my cell phone sitting on a park bench only to realize it once we made it all the way back home. (Surprisingly, it was still sitting there when I went back. Damn. Kind of wanted an excuse for an iPhone).

Hanging out with the family is complete and total chaos BLISS. I actually love the madness and wouldn’t have it any other way. On Sunday before Laef and I headed back home, I took Sophie to a yogurt shop that lets you do everything by yourself. You serve your yogurt and then you get to put whatever toppings on that you see fit. In the end, you are charged by weight. Of course, being  the aunty (and being that I got to leave before her sugar high hit), I let Sophie get whatever toppings she wanted. I can tell you that she opted for: Gummy worms, chocolate sprinkles, Reeses Pieces, Reeses peanut butter cups, chocolate syrup and M&Ms. All on top of rasberry yogurt. Who would of thought chocolate syrup and gummy worms go together?

We are back home now, and because I don’t have running to keep me occupied, I am focusing my time on moving. Sadly, we will be vacating our little beach bungalow in July. It is definitely bittersweet as we have so many great memories from living in Manhattan Beach. However, we have outgrown the place and are tired of commuting to work everyday. So, on the bright side, we will be living closer to UCLA to avoid the madness of the 405 freeway, and we will finally have a guest bedroom!

Because of my excitement re: more space, I may or may not have already starting packing. This type of behavior makes Laef insane. I’m just trying to avoid one of those 13-hour moving days where you do everything in one day – pack, load the car, unpack. Those days SUCK. I’m pretty sure I will see the Longeteig’s on my doorstep in July since I think I’ve helped them move once. Or 9 times.

For starters, I would like to call bullshit on The Hangover and Swingers. Both of these Vegas-related movies revolve around dudes road-tripping to Vegas. In The Hangover,  said dudes rush back in time for a wedding after spending the weekend in Vegas. In Swingers, the dudes are shown stopping along a desolate highway on their way back to LA.

I am here to let you know that if you drive to Vegas you will not be able to 1) rush back in time for anything and 2) there is nothing desolate about the insane amount of cars jockeying for position on the 2-lane highway between Las Vegas and Los Angeles.

We drove because we weren’t sure if we’d be able to go this weekend until the last minute and flights were not cheap. We decided to suck it up and drive so that we’d have extra money for gambling. While it is awesome that we can hop in the car and go to Vegas on a whim, I vote for flying if at all possible.

Anyway.

We arrived on Friday around 1 p.m. This gave me time to place a few bets on the Friday evening games. I won’t even get into how stressful it is to watch games when you have money riding on it. Nor will I go into just how hard it is to pick games. It’s one thing to pick your bracket. It’s an entirely different thing to navigate the spread.

I can tell you that I made 4 bets for my brother, one for my mom, 2 for a friend in Eugene and 8 different bets for myself. That’s 15 bets on games. I won on 3 tickets. THREE.

Part of it is my fault in that I went ballsy by only betting parlays, meaning that I placed a bet on 3 different teams and all 3 would have to be right for me to win.

Unfortunately, after the Friday games were over I somehow convinced Laef that we should go to the club. Let’s talk about how NOT fun a Vegas club is for a sober married couple. First of all, there’s no way that it wasn’t some kind of fire hazard. Once we got inside we were unable to move. We managed to get a drink and then stood awkardly on the dance floor wondering why we were there.

We left around 2 a.m. and decided to play blackjack. Because there were only $15 tables, Laef went out quickly. I went up about $60 and decided to put all of my money on one hand.

FAIL. Luckily we left our Saturday money in the room.

Before going to bed though, I made my bets for Saturday’s round of basketball games.

We headed to the pool on Saturday morning. The highlight of the trip was my Saturday parlay of Saint Mary’s, Baylor and Kansas State. While at the pool, I watched Saint Mary’s beat Villanova. My parlay was intact (I can’t tell you how fucking annoying and frustrating it is to have the first game of your parlay fail. At that point your ticket is meaningless and you are left watching the games for…fun? No. Not fun, which means you bet more on the games. Sigh.) Later that afternoon, Baylor won so my parlay was now riding on Kansas State.

K State won, I collected my money and per my brother’s recommendation, we went to the fine establishment Ellis Island. There’s no way to really describe it other than to tell you that it’s one block OFF the strip, it’s connected to a Super 8 Motel and it sells $1 hot dogs.

However, they have $5 blackjack and craps. Laef started at the blackjack table with me, but after losing $40 in about 2 minutes he disappeared. About an hour later I became somewhat worried so I did a quick glance around the casino. I saw him high-fiving a random guy in a Michigan shirt at the craps table. At that point I figured things were going well.

We were both up, and despite several beers each, we made the smart decision to walk away and head back home. Between my parlay victory and the success at Ellis Island, Saturday was a lot better than Friday.

However, on Sunday, I decided to do one last parlay with Cornell and Maryland. Thank you to Cornell for following through. And, a big fat F YOU to Maryland for sending me home on a low note.

But, here’s the thing. The bookmakers had Maryland favored by 1 point. The bookmakers know their shit. So even when Maryland was down by as much as 15 points, I figured they’d have to make some kind of run. With about 6 seconds left in the game, Maryland went ahead by ONE POINT. Michigan State and one last shot, and as we all know, the Spartans made it to win. If Michigan State had missed that last shot, Maryland would have won by 1 point despite trailing the entire game. I thought about it the whole way home. The fact that the bookmakers are so spot on is absolutely baffling to me.

Today is Monday and we are back home. I have been trying to figure out a way to get back to Vegas for the games next weekend.

After Laef and I got married we went to New York City to celebrate our honeymoon.

Shortly after we returned, Laef started working with UCLA basketball and the honeymoon was over. Real life set in real quick. Overall, the season didn’t go that well and the Bruins are not a part of the NCAA tourney this year. As much as I’m happy that Laef is done traveling and basketball season is over, it would have been nice for him to experience the NCAA Tourney with a group of guys that he enjoys working with. The tourney is the goal of any basketball program, so it’s a bummer that they didn’t make it.

For me, the NCAA tournament is a very close second to college football Saturday’s. It’s fun. A lot of fun. And frustrating. Very frustrating. I struggled a lot with my bracket this year. I tried not to read too much or be swayed by all the chatter – Kentucky is too young; Duke has a free pass to the final four; Siena is ripe for an upset over an injured Purdue team; Cornell is the new George Mason.

I have switched my picks several times over the past few days, and it didn’t help when I watched Obama fill out his bracket on ESPN yesterday. Everytime I hear something, it’s different than what I heard someone else say, and I start second-guessing myself. Which is stupid because at the end of the day, it’s all a crap shoot anyway.

However, I had picked Florida State over Gonzaga in the first round because the ‘Zags have broken my heart (and my bracket) one too many times. And then yesterday, Laef and I went to Target and were in the checkout line behind Adam Morrison. !!! What. The. Fuck. It’s a clear sign – along with our brand new issue of Sports Illustrated with Gonzaga on the cover – that I needed rush home and switch that pick IMMEDIATELY.

Yes. This is what happens to me in March. I am a crazy person who freaks out over Villanova’s national defense ranking. It’s exhausting.

And so much fun.

We’re heading to Vegas tomorrow. We are staying at New York New York to try and relive our honeymoon. There will be relaxing pool time, but there will also be things like “parlays” (I totally just learned that word) and “betting the moneyline” (I totally just learned that term) and drinks before noon.

Today should be holiday.

Hi.

I know I haven’t written, called or come by in a while, but I thought I should let you know that I’ll be coming your way next week. In the past, things have been kind of up and down with us so I thought I’d write in advance to ask a few favors.

You see, I started to get excited about the upcoming trip and decided to go through my old Vegas photos. When I opened the folder, this is the first photo that appeared:

I know what your thinking, Vegas. I know you’re saying, “Why the long face? It’s me. Vegas, baby!”

Well, I’ll tell you. The long face is because on that particular trip you let a certain BYU team destroy my Oregon Duckies in my last-ever Oregon sporting event.

The time before that, you graced me with all sorts of luck at the blackjack table. You turned my $20 into over $300. I had never had so many chips, so I snuck into the bathroom, pulling chips out all over the place, counting them and recounting them. In my excitement, my cell phone jumped out of my pocket and into your fancy toilet. Yes, the kind that automatically flushes when anything touches the water. So, I watched as my $300 worth of chips washed down the toilet…yes, Vegas, buying a new phone is almost that much these days.

This other time, you were nice enough to get me VIP at a really fancy club. But, then, you threw this buffet thing at me and I ate not one, not two, but THREE Subway breakfast sandwiches. Vegas, do you know that I couldn’t eat three Subway breakfast sandwiches if not for your spell?

So, Vegas. I need your help next week. I need some kind of a sign when the sun is starting to come up. Remember that time I was visiting you, and I was with the softball team? Yeah. The time that I had no idea what time it was because you don’t allow windows anywhere and I realized it was 6 a.m. and had a 9 a.m. softball game?

Christmas is coming and mommy needs a new purse. How about you swing me a little $300 profit and I’ll encourage Ben to throw down $500 on one hand of blackjack?

Work with me, Vegas. Work with me. Don’t allow Laef and I to pull some Britney bullshit and get married. Don’t take me for all I’m worth, and DON’T give me cotton candy from the Wynn buffet.

I want nothing but smiley pictures all the way.

XOXO

Your pal,

A-Ross

There are so many stories to share from the wedding and I have no idea where to start. Nothing compares to hanging out with your best friends for three days, eating amazing food, drinking champagne and making up immature phrases. Rather than try to cram everything into one blog, I will likely blog out a few separate entries.

Because I’m still struggling to find my brain cells, I figured I’d write a blog about how we can find humor in the most inane ways.

At Amy and Andrew’s wedding in 2004, it was referring to York, Maine as Taint, Maine. Again. I never claimed we were mature. But we still laugh about it to this day.

I have to point out that it was THE Sean Lara who came up with the Like My Johnson gem. Sean is one of those super smart people who uses giant words to make jokes. Giant words like: My Johnson.

Anyway, I was not there for it’s inception and only heard a handful of conversations that took place, but it brought us much joy. Sean had finally come to the conclusion that the phrase, “That’s What She Said” was played out and that a proper replacement would be: “Like My Johnson.”

Fuck. I hope this isn’t one of those blogs where you had to be there. If so, I implore you to insert it when a sentence ends that it could fit.

(A brief disclaimer to those who were there. I might have names and exact phrases wrong. Please comment with the other conversations I may have missed).

Rob: “Man, I almost tripped over that mat.”
Sean: Mumbling quickly…”like my johnson”
Rob: “I love how you just slipped that in right there.”
Erin: “Like my Johnson”

Erin: “It smells like something is burning.
Natalie: “Yeah. Like weed.”
Allison: “Ew. Yeah. That’s really stinky.”
Erin: “Like My Johnson.”

Tim: “I got this beer because it’s pretty dark and thick.”
Rob: “Like My Johnson”

At one point during the rehersal dinner, one of Ben’s frineds asked me about my blog and he said, “So, do you blog about things going on in the world? Like, important things?”

Me: Trying to figure out a way to make Dirty Sanchez’s sound important: “Um. You know. If you’re trying to get smarter, I don’t suggest reading my blog.”

I will leave you with an image from the wedding and will post pics over the next few days as I recall certain details.

It provided me a lot of pleasure and fun times.

Laef: “Like My Johnson.”

Because it was college football Saturday, Laef and Rob spent a LOT of time checking their blackberries.

Well, here we are at Ben and Annett’s wedding weekend.

And it got off to a rather interesting start. We are staying with friends – Erin and Sean – in San Diego. We had a fun night of hanging out, drinking wine, eating cheese, proclaiming to stay sober and discussing important topics like The Hills, Gossip Girl and how ridiculously skinny the girls on the new 90210 are.

As the night was winding down, we were sitting in the living room browsing facebook and realizing that it was after 2 a.m. and we needed to sleep.

Then it happened.

It was as if Dane Cook’s skit came to life. A car not only crashed right outside, it CRASHED INTO SEAN AND ERIN’S HOUSE. Right outside of the living room where we were sitting. The house shook, a tree fell and silence befell the room.

We then scattered, looking for our shoes, looking out the window, running to the balcony and just generally trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

And through it all, Sean never budged one inch.

I felt like an asshole taking a picture, but thankfully all passengers were OK besides some mental sketchiness.

This photo was taken from their living room window.

Taking the photo prompted the following from Erin: “Fuck you and your blog. You brought this shit with you.”

But, it was more that I couldn’t believe that Dane Cook has previously detailed this exact scene.

Remember the blog about Laef and I budgeting?

Remember how I said that when Laef is out of town, I tend to go out to eat sushi or grilled artichokes? And that typically those meals run me about $40?

Well, I was gone this weekend and I came home to this:

Let’s just say that it was more than $40.