As you know I have a dog. Her name is Lola and she is a small fourteen pound cockapoo. She has a couple strange characteristics including, but not limited to:
Walking sideways when she’s excited.
Rolling over on her belly when she’s scared.
A ridiculously long tongue.
A habit of digging aggressively on hard wood floors for no apparent reason.
Strange noises (not barking) to express herself.
Aside, I think she is quite adorable. Recently, however, she has started the quirkiest quirk of all.
Throughout the day and night I let Lola into our backyard for a bathroom break and some playtime. Typically she goes out, does her thing and comes running back into the house. In the last two weeks, however, every time she returns, she brings in one to two pork spare ribs. (Seriously.) I’ve tried to locate where she is finding them, but can’t seem to figure it out. How over the course of 14+ days does she keep finding them?! For example, this morning she came into the bathroom while brushing my teeth with two spare ribs. I wrapped those up and threw them away. Then tonight, she shows up with another one!
Onto Carmel…day two and three. See Carmel Part I for day one.
Once we had escaped being kicked out of our Carmel family inn, we headed into the valley for some yummy brunch at Corkscrew Cafe.
Not only was the food delicious, but so was the service. Sean and Dustin were our servers…They were hilarious. They looked twelve years old, but apparently it was only their innocence that kept them looking so young. Well that and their rosey cheeks.
We finished our ‘Ladies Who Lunch” luncheon and popped down the street to Talbott and Georis wineries.
The atmosphere for tastings was beautiful and the company was pretty fantastic as well .
At Talbott we met two adorable couples from Los Angeles. The ladies were sisters and despite both being grandmothers they looked 25. They sat and talked with us for a while offering advice on beautiful skin, local wineries and of course, how to find true love.
At Georis we met Bear, a musician from South Carolina who currently holds the Guinness Book of World Records for finger tapping. He had a snaggle tooth, southern accent and sweet sense of humor. Check him out:
We had finished up in the Valley and headed back to the hotel. We quickly refreshed and headed out for a late dinner. Unfortunately we didn’t make a reservation at the restaurant Dametra’s, so we put in our name, dropped off our Georis and Talbott wine and headed to Il Fornaio for a couple cocktails in the meantime.
At Il Fornaio we met “B” a bartender who had been working there for over 15 years. Quite entertaining and made one mean pomegranate margarita.
Over the course of the next hour we attempted to hit on a table of men who had obviously just returned from a game of golf. We created a diagram to determine who was single and who was married. Alas. No luck. Again.
After hugging “B” goodbye we headed back over to Dametra’s for some outstanding food, singing, dancing and good times. The restaurant is run by a family of Greek men (i.e. cousins, brothers, grandfather, etc). I emphasize the word family because I felt like it was actually just a group of friends who shared a common interest of good food and good women. We were attended to by at least five male waiters, serenaded by their grandfather and danced adored by a table of Arabic drummers. An interesting experience to say the least.
We finished up our final course and headed back to Brophy’s for Round II. We entered the bar to find all the locals and workers knew us by name. I even got a talking to again by the owner, Chris, about keeping it PG tonight. We dropped off the bottle of wine we didn’t consume at dinner behind the bar and bellied up to a table in the corner next to two hawt single dudes, who I shall call Folsom and Sven.
Folsom and Sven didn’t seem terribly interested at first, however, after joining us for a drink, their attitudes quickly adjusted. Christie pretty quickly decided Sven was heres, despite Jen’s tentative interest. Mary chatted up Folsom, however he was suffering from a recent broken heart and didn’t care too much to take any females serious. With Mary and Christie distracted, Jen and I wandered the other 10 square feet of the bar for any newbies.
Unfortunately there were no newbies, instead the wedding party from the night before turned up, including Robert. He quickly approached me, stuck his hand inappropriately down my shirt and began making out with me. Chris, the bar owner, quickly reminded us to keep it PG. Robert then decided it was probably a good idea to go back to my hotel room. I agreed.
So I walked over to the table with Sven, Christie, Folsom and Mary to grab my coat. I explained to them my plan and everyone seemed to be in agreement that it was an excellent idea. On my way back to Robert I stopped to talk with this dude who I shall call Tin Cup. Tin Cup was a movie producer from LA who was sitting in the bar with an oversized pair of headphones choosing music for his upcoming movie. He couldn’t tell me what the name of it was but described it as follows:
“It’s a story about a war veteran who comes back to play professional golf. He comes to Carmel, meets a lady and rebuilds his life. Oh and it’s starring Kevin Costner.”
I responded by asking, “Didn’t they already make that movie? It’s called Tin Cup.” He did not think this was clever. He went on to make ridiculous statements like..
“If you don’t have money, you can never be happy.”
“I’m dating a japanese princess. She’s a direct descendant of the emperor. In our spare time she and I run a dog grooming business called Pretty Doggies.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart. My name is ____. Don’t ever call me a pet name again.”
I seriously couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. The true downside of this conversation, outside of feeling dumber, was that Robert thought I was flirting with this 52 year old douche and left the bar giving me a dirty look. So much for going back to the hotel room. So instead the girls and I finished up our cocktails and silently headed back to our hotel room.
Sunday morning we woke up, snuck out of the hotel room and headed over to Big Sur to have brunch at Nepenthe. I was pretty sure Jen and Christie were going to vomit on the windy 30-minute drive. Especially when I started singing showtunes. But we made it there free and clear. No Sunday Funday lunch would do without a refreshing cocktail, especially if daiquiris are on the menu!
The day ended with a long drive back to San Francisco. Lola, wine and dignity in tow…
You know you only turn 26 once, so you might as well celebrate. With Mary officially closer to 30 than 20, we had much reason to enjoy the weekend!
After a Wednesday evening of shenanigans, including sushi at Umami, Jameson at Notte, Mojitos at East Side West, Tequila at KTs and of course wine at Balboa, we closed out the night with a walk home to drop off the birthday girl (literally drop).
Along the way we ended up giving Mary a birthday gift should wouldn’t soon forget…Somehow (and details are blurry) Mary tripped over Jen and landed face first on the sidewalk in front of her apartment. As Jen rolled her over, I kept yelling “Oh my gawd! Does she have all her teeth?!” Thanks to the heavens above Mary did have all her teeth, but walked away with a couple scratches and a pretty awesome fat lip. The next morning around 5am the following text exchange occured:
Mary: I had to call in b/c I have a FAT lip. I hate u. I’m hungover and have an oozing fat lip. It’s 5:30am ps. I hate u…but love u. Me: Dude I know. You fell on your face last night. U and Jen tripped and u went face first to the ground. Mary: Called in (to work) ’fat lip’…literally. U should c it I can’t believe I’m not missing a tooth….I hate u…I mean really? I’m 26 and falling…any chance you have my wallet?
So classic. For the record…more than the amount of liquor she drank, no offense Mary, but YOU ARE SUCH A CLUTZ!
Aside, Thursday night we packed the car and headed up with the girls to Tahoe for a birthday weekend getaway. On Friday, Mary, Brooks and Kel headed up to the slopes, while Stina, Lola and I stayed back at the house…
After a very stressful day (haha…totally not) we headed to the backyard (aka the national park) and popped into the hot tub for some wine and gossip!
That night we had a mini birthday party for Mary, complete with her favorite…ice cream sundaes!
Saturday we decided to take things easy so we headed up to the Lahontan spa for yet another day of hot tubbing, margaritas and girl chat. So much to do, so little time. That night we had reservations at my most favorite Tahoe restaurant, Garwoods! The food is delicious, but the cocktails are to die for! The Wet Woody is AMAZING (note the green straws)!
Of course the tricky thing about the Wet Woodys, just like with any woody, they sneak up on you! We got home and played a couple rounds of “I’ve Never,” learning things about each other we would have never guessed! (Well maybe you could have guessed, in fact with our friends, you could probably just have assumed.)
Aside, the night went on, Bel (Kellan’s alter ego) joined in on the fun…Brooks and I fancied fur…Mary got a 1000yrd stare…so on and so on…
Sunday we got up early (I was shocked too), cleaned up the house (well, okay, I slept in) and we stopped at Red Robin (my former employer and home of the smiling burger). Got back to the city by two and made a delicious family dinner!
Another great weekend…Happy Birthday Mary! Thanks for being born so we could have a fantastic weekend celebration! Looking forward to next year!!
(PS How good do I look in fur? I was totally born in the wrong era.)
With a promotion at work happening the next day I couldn’t justify getting wasted on the actual St Patrick’s Day, Wednesday, March 17. Yes, a sign I’m actually growing up. Sooo with beautiful weather on our side, Greg and Andy decided to throw their own little Irish themed bash on Saturday afternoon.
Around 11am Greg served me the first of several Irish Car Bombs. By noon several more people joined, including my favorites, Joanie & Chachie (aka my parents) and Steve and Julie, my favorite family friends! Not only was my family there, but little Varni and in-law Varni also joined in on the fun!
Chachie (aka Dad) & Steve / Julie, Joanie (aka Mom) & Nat / Little Varni, in-law Varni & Varni
Even Lola enjoyed a day in the sun! (See Danny does love Lola.)
The day went on…we enjoyed flip cup, beer pong, cigars and good times…One Car Bomb after another, slowly people’s dignity slipped away…
Greg attempted to seduce my mother…
Julie had one too many Car Bombs…
And Brooks, Stina and I figured out what the boys could do with the open space in the family room…
I made it out to Delaney’s that night, but since I had drunkenly brought Lola with me, I only managed to make it through one beer before I decided to head home…Although I did learn she loves the bar just like her mother.
All in all I’m proud to say I made it another year celebrating St Patrick’s Day with my family BUT without peeing my pants! Pat on the back to me…get it?!
Have you ever heard the term “Sunday Funday?” I sure hope you have. And if you have not, to clarify, Sunday Funday is when you close out the weekend with something really fantastic; brunch, shopping, flip cup, horseshoes or even a couple rounds of Jenga…whatever floats your boat.
Over the past couple of months we have been making the most of our Sundays, however an aggressive Sunday afternoon can often make for a rough Monday morning. I believe the saying is, “You smell like a Friday night and it’s Monday morning.” No one knows this better than our dear friend Jen who was recently pulled aside at work and given a warning for ‘calling in sick too many Mondays.’ To her defense she was really sick, but to their defense, it was totally self-induced.
So to avoid further corrective action on Jen’s part, we have created a new Sunday Funday, which takes place on Saturday…now officially known as “Saturday Faturday.” (And yes, this sort of horrific rhyming is the result of last weekend’s Saturday Faturday).
What appears to have been a classy brunch in the Presidio is just a facade…
Check out the bill…
Note: The $384.40 total did not include tip as there were only six of us eating. Talk about aggressive…
If ever I leave for the weekend or an extended destination vacation, I have this fear that I’m going to miss something really amazing here in San Francisco. This is a legitimate fear: A loss of even 24 hours can result in significant social changes (i.e. a break-up) and/or abandoned memories (i.e. a self-proclaimed pub crawl with friends that I’m not on). To prepare myself for the absence of good times while I’m away, I like to make the weekend prior to my travels a good one, hence, the weekend before Vegas.
Friday Night:
With Friday off of work and both my roommates out of town, I felt socially obligated to do dinner and cocktails for those poor schleps who had to work all day. CUE: Carnitas and Margaritas aka Mini-Fiesta! By the third pitcher of POM-Margaritas I was actually starting to believe Mary when she said, “You know these drinks are pretty good for us. I mean, we’re getting all of our anti-oxidants in for the week.” (For those of you who don’t know Mary, she is a nurse and a good nurse, but taking medical or health advice from her after several cocktails is not the best idea.)
Saturday Morning:
Mary and I woke up feeling like shiza, convinced that the late night pizza was covered in expired cheese. We were most certain is was not due to the tequila, nor the blow job shots Dave had so kindly sent to us from across the bar.
Unfortunately for us, Mary, Brooks, Blaire and I were scheduled for our Marine Mammal Center orientation at 10:00am. We strive to make good first impressions, so we only showed up 5 minutes late. (Lucky for us, a group of teens clearly assigned there for community service, showed up 15 minutes late, making us look like the good students again.) About 5 minutes into the 90 minute presentation, I realized I was most definitely NOT going to hug a seal that day. About 25 minutes later, I realized the closest I would probably ever come to hugging a seal , would be when I got to lay on top the seal holding it down for a tube feeding. Instead I settled for this:
The rest of the afternoon we spent recovering on the beach with Lola…
Saturday Night:
Since we’re all on a budget in preparation for Vegas, we decided to do a second night in and Mary made a delicious Spinach Fettucine. What was planned to be an intimate dinner for five ended in a shit show game of Thunder with a whole mess of people. (Luckily I always have mass quantities of tequila on hand. I try to be prepared for any situation, with the exception of an earthquake. In that scenario I’m screwed.) For those of you who are unfamiliar with the game of Thunder, here’s the scoop:
Step 1: All players form a circle with extra cocktail pitcher/beer in center.
Step 2: Play the song “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC.
Step 3: Going clock-wise, the first person starts to chug when they sing the word “Thunder.” Every time they sing the word “Thunder” the next person starts to drink and continues to do so until they sing it again.
Needless to say, after only one round of this game, the group was ready to head out for the night. As everyone exited the apartment I stood on the front stoop saying goodbye to people heading home and waiting for every one else so we could head to the bars. As the front door closes Hart says to me “Money, do you need to lock the front door?” I respond, “No, it locks automatically.” Which prompts me to check my purse, only to realize I don’t have my keys. Typically this isn’t a problem as I can rely on the boys for their keys, but they’re both NOT in the city. So Christie, who lives upstairs, gets us into the building to face the task at hand: Breaking into my own apartment.
There are two ways this can be done. The first is to climb through the six inch window gap into the bathroom and the second is to go to the roof and shimmy down the fire escape in the hopes my bedroom window is open.
Entrance #1: Here’s just a quick glance at how that went down involving Gberg and Gainza:
Entrance #2: Christie and Jen (who was heavily medicated on muscle relaxers at the time) chose the roof to fire escape method. This was dangerous for not only the obvious reasons, but for the single fact that our fire escape has a very narrow gap from the last ladder down to my bedroom window, which I know from personal experience can put you in a precarious situation. Only two years ago I was trying to break into my apartment for the same reason, using this same route. Coming through this small gap my pants were caught on the wheel which releases the ladder to the ground. As that ladder pummeled down, so with it went my pants. Leaving me trapped, pants around my ankles and mooning all of my neighbors. Ten minutes later my friend had used scissors to cut me out of my jeans so I could be released from the ladders’ grip. Having learned this lesson the hard way, the girls were warned and made it safely to my bedroom window and into the apartment.
Saturday night I learned two valuable lessons: First, although time consuming, it is FAR too easy to break into my own apartment and precautions must be taken. And second, whenever I’m with GBerg I lose my keys. GBerg- Something about you makes me lose my keys!
Comments (1) 
I can’t believe I’m not missing a tooth….I hate u…I mean really? I’m 26 and falling…any chance you have my wallet?
Themocracy