Beer Golf

Yes, yes. Beer Golf. Brought to you by my lovely friend Ashton, beer golf is a drinking game. And it is hilarious. 

So we all dress up like golfers. Or attempt to dress up life golfers. Sarah looked like a primo golfer, I on the other hand, looked like an awkward preppy white girl who has never heard of argyle. And wore a hot pink baseball glove instead of a white golf glove. I'm ok with it though. I have accepted the fact that I am socially retarded. 

Then we proceed to pick teams. There was 3 teams of 4. I was picked last with another chica. And they wanted to make me designated light weight, where my points would count as more but I refused. I mean not only do they obviously think I have no drinking power what so ever, they were treating me like I couldn't possibly keep up with their raging. 

So I went around calling myself the underdog and telling everyone I was going to win the women's individual category. They just laughed at me. Again, I was ok with that. 

The night then proceeded with bar hopping. It started with Mission Ale House and then just went around downtown San Jose. At each bar you had to at least drink one drink. If you drank four however, that was a whole in one. You couldn't drink water or you got +1 and you had to drink with your glove hand, because if any other opposing teams caught you that was another +1. That is definitely something I struggled with. 

As the night progressed, I got hammered. Hammered beyond hammered actually. To the point of embarrassment really. But remember I don't care. I live the life of awkward, so these things don't phase me for very long. 

The best part was: I barely spent any money. The great thing about being a girl is batting your eyelashes and getting massive amount of free drinks. So not only was I competing at a high level, I was economically friendly to my wallet. My wallet who very much appreciates my persuasive efforts. 

The night then started coming to a close. I can't tell you much about the late late night. Cause really I don't recall much of it myself. Except for La Vic's. Everyone remembers La Vic's. Yum orange sauce. 

In the morning, Sarah and I were in bed until the early afternoon. Yes, it was not a happy moment really. Lot's of head aches. BUT then Ashton calls me. Here I thought I must have left something or did something inappropriate, I don't even know. He proceeds to tell me, "I don't know how you did it, but you won. You're fucking awesome." 

I am delighted in my new victorious standings. I mean really, I told EVERYONE I was the underdog. And no one believed me. And my trophy. A red blazer. No don't get excited, I am not talking about a car, I am talking about a red jacket with really big shoulder pads. One day I will put that into use. Or when Sarah becomes a famous journalist or newscaster, I'll let her borrow it. 

And just so everyone knows, I paid dearly physically and emotionally for this championship. And I mean dearly. So never say I can't keep up with your raging. I may not get out as much as I use to, but the mind does AMAZING things. And my mind that night RAGED.

A Weekend of Pet Hospitals

This past weekend was traumatic in my little life. 

Thursday night I saw Billie ingest a long piece of string. String is deadly to cats. It cuts through their digestive tract. 

Saturday morning I take her to the vet because she is in massive amount of pain and constantly trying to gag something up.

Saturday afternoon, surgery successful. However, she didn't just ingest thread, she had a 2 inch sewing needle in her esophagus. 

Saturday night, emergency pet hospital for post op. 

Sunday I got to pick her up. Lots of medicine and a cone collar. 

She slept, curled up on me, from sunday evening to Monday afternoon. I didn't go to class in the morning. I stayed in bed and let her sleep. Cause she wont sleep when I'm home unless I'm laying in bed with her. 

I don't think people can understand how attached we get to our pets. She's my world. And to see her in so much pain, and not be able to do a thing about it, is the worst thing ever. 

A Bloody Episode

Not only has Trader Joe's housed some of the funniest, awkwardest, and stupidest encounters of my time, it has also showed me some of the most foul and grotesque things my little eyeballs have seen.

Case in point: yesterday on register.

It really was just another old couple, getting their 2 buck chuck, because you see old people love their cheap tasteless 2 buck chuck. The old man was quite enthusiastic and charming. His wife just standing and smiling as if she was in the perfect little world.

And as I made polite conversation, not really thinking about much, I look down upon my register where I was checking items and saw blood everywhere.

No I am not kidding. I am not fabricating. There was blood on everything. The bottles of wine, the bread, the beer, the register, and sadly all over my hands. It was really like an episode from a horror movie. At first I thought oh my gosh I must be bleeding (it's not the first time that I have cut myself and not noticed). However, there was so much blood that I thought it had to have been a Halloween prank or something. When I say a lot of blood I mean drippings and thick blood on everything. And I stood there trying to stay calm and not jump to conclusion. I called my coworker over that was closest to me and she automatically grabbed sanitary wipes and helped me clean and wipe everything down.

And there I stood preaching to the old folks how sorry I was that some kid decided to put blood all over things. It is the season.

Something peculiar was going on though. The old couple was not disgusted or shocked or anything of that matter. They didn't want new product or speak to a manager, nothing.

As I was handing their bags to them, my jaw dropped. This old man was profusely spouting blood out of his hand. I said sir are you ok the blood is coming from you. And he nonchalantly says I bleed all the time. And then he proceeded to grab his things and leave.

There I stood, mystified, and covered in old man's blood, and all he had to say was it happens all the time.

Welcome to my awkward life.

The Other Toilet Paper Trail

Trader Joe's customers and employees have given me some of the best laughs of my short lived life.

Yesterday, however, I was stumped.

It was about 9:45 in the evening. The store was already closed and we were all doing are usually cleaning and stocking. As I was walking to the salsa I noticed one of my coworkers... who shall not be named... in a... uhh... well, very peculiar state.

Now I don't get embarrassed easy. I'm not afraid to tell people they have stuff in their teeth or toilet paper hanging off their shoe. Actually, I have even saved a customer from social awkwardness by casually stepping on his long line of toilet paper trail before even letting him know the hysterical situation.

But yesterday was different.

Yesterday, he who shall not be named, didn't have toilet paper from his shoes or green junk in his pearly whites, but he had part of his toilet seat cover hanging out of the back of his pants.

I will let the imagination take reign. I however did not have the courage to say anything. Instead, out of embarrassment for him, and a mighty mighty roar of laughter, I snickered away and told one of my managers. Who took a peak first off, grabbed someone else to share the grand news with, before actually doing the deed.

Now you ask if this was a prank?

Oh no no. He was done for. Quiet and to himself the rest of the night. And the best part is, he doesn't even know that it all went down hill from me.

MWAHAHAHAHA.

Cloud of Smoke

Yesterday, I drove to Sacramento and I spent the night with my dad. 

I sat there listening to him talk about things, his life, why certain choices were made. I was definitely getting a better understanding of where he was coming from and answers to why his road led to divorce. 

I sat there trying to be as supportive as possible. It's hard to hear your dad talk about things with such sadness. To hear him being so unaware of what the future holds was scary to hear. So stressed and tired, that I have never seen him more skinny in my life. 

It's hard to make decisions that change your life so drastically, throwing you into the unknown. But do you settle with ok or do you take a chance on great? 

Of course of all places we choose to eat dinner, one of Debra's best friends is there. And I went over to say hi and be respectful because I thought that was the nice thing to do. But sometimes divorcing family means divorcing friends. And I stood listening to this woman bash and put down my father in front of her dinner guests. I respectfully listened and walked away the first chance I had. I went inside and sat in my seat and casually made my 8 dollar glass of wine disappear. I couldn't believe she had the nerve to do that. 

I wish I could go back in time and say something to her. I wish I would have stood up for him and said it takes two to make a marriage go wrong, even if choices my dad has made accelerated it. I wish I could have said how dare you talk to me about my father. He is an amazing man who has come to a cross road in his life and he had to make a decision. A decision that has nothing to do with you and your one sided opinions. But I didn't and it was probably better this way. 

Divorce is hard. It's the second divorce my family has endeared. And let me tell you, being older makes it harder. You understand more and you definitely analyze more. I love Debra very much. And I hope that sometime in the future we can still have a relationship, in person, face to face. 

I will not say anyones actions were right, or one is better than the other, or if this was done better the outcome would be brighter. It is not my job to say whose at fault, or who didn't try hard enough, or who I feel sorry for, or who I am angry at. It takes two. I'm sad because something that was so close to me was lost. I'm hurt because my dad and Debra both hurt in their own ways. But he is my dad, and I will support him through anything and everything. 

And after dinner, we sat right back outside. I sat right back into the endless cloud of smoke, and I listened. Because sometimes the best thing to do is just listen. 

Dinner For One

Today was a regular day really. First it was massive stress over a presentation, beginning at about 6am, that was executed perfectly. Then it was a long break, sitting, texting, eating the same salad, pondering about anything and everything. Followed by a class with a teacher that is so passionate about her job it almost scares me and a classmate who boggles my mind. Then the quick yet tedious light rail ride home.

As I was driving home I decided to do date night, with myself. I don't have many friends that really have time or the want to sit and have dinner or just chit chat on a couch (not that I ever have time but thursday nights are my day of freedom). So I decided to do what I would do with friends by myself. I headed over to blockbuster, spent a good fifteen minutes debating between four movies that could be masterpieces or a complete waste of time. I chose the Donnie Darko sequel S. Darko(probably massive waste of time but the actors are so hot I thought at least I would have something pretty to look at) and then I chose Pheobe In Wonderland (probably a sweet movie that will make me cry and miss the years of being innocent and having no cares).

Then it was off to Safeway. The dinner was unplanned but I knew that something other than chicken was going to be the highlight of this magnificent solo dinner. As I looked through the meat section all I could actually think of was the pamphlet some hippie looking guy shoved in my face on campus about animal cruelty. It said if you can't give up meat then at least don't eat pigs, birds, or eggs. So due to this pamphlet statement I reached for a nice piece of London Broil steak. Yes, I know, another cruelty or political statement with that one, but today I wanted to be a carnivore and eat a piece of red meat. A piece of red meat that I seared for a few minutes, drenched in garlic and red wine, and then broiled it, topping it off with mushrooms. Next to it I decided to do make white pepper and garlic cream mashed potatoes. Although veggies are usually my favorite thing, I was incredibly lazy by the time I got to mashing potatoes, so a glass of red wine was to substitute.

As I sat and ate my delectable meal, throwing ping pong balls at Billie, because her new obsession is ping pong balls, and let me tell you she really can't get away from those things; I pondered again. I do it a lot. Usually think about all the things I'm doing wrong, but sometimes good things. I'm critical on myself if anyone hasn't caught on.

First, I kept thinking about my. German exam tomorrow. Tonight I wanted to spend my time studying for it, and at this moment all I have to show for is counting from 1-12 and memorizing as long as the verb is in section position ill be fine. I didn't even touch the book. A book I spend so much time with that the moment I should really bond with it, I grab the bottle of wine instead.

Second, I pondered where I was going. And I really mean this metaphorically. I know, really heavy dinner thinking. Do you ever just feel like something's missing? I work my butt off, pay all my bills, do all my homework, nice to my parents, love my friends, probably more than I should, and adore my bubs more than most humans I know. Yet, I feel like something's missing. I don't know yet what. And don't say it's a guy. The last thing I need. I can barely keep up with myself, let alone keeping up with love. A word I have never even uttered to the other species. Who knows though, maybe whatever that something is will someday bump into me.

And the real work up to this blog, the paragraphs above really being avoidance, is something I have signed up for, well more like qualified for and accepted. Stanford is doing a research study. Yea, most of you scholarly people or students know what I am talking about. Studying people for some reason. I'm not ready to tell people what it's for. But what I want to say, is that if this study helps girls like me, at my age, be happier, and be comfortable with themselves, and help understand themselves better, then it's well worth it. It's a lot of time, and not a lot of compensation. But I feel like it's a good thing. And I think we could all do a little good these days with whatever we can.

Now as I reach for my wine, and watch one of my movies, play with really the best friend a person could have, my bubs, and probably cry my buzzed eyes out, I'm not going to think about how my German exam that is in fourteen and a half hours. Totally overrated.

Breaks Over

You know life is funny. Here I was blogging for whatever reason, I can't even remember, and some of the biggest steps of my little adult life happened and none of it was lovingly written down on this inappropriately titled blog. 

For the first time, I left the nest. I guess you can say I literally threw myself into a world that I physiologically was ready for but maybe not realistically. Turns out moving out was definitely an eye opener in many ways. Although I have been emotionally independent for more than half my little existence, I can now safely say I also financially rely on myself. 

I started at a new Trader Joe's. Surrounding myself with different people, different problems, in a very different town (Los Gatos, a place where everyones rich and even Grandmas are ridiculously hot, whether natural or paid for). 

I live with a person that is not a part of my close or extended family. A topic all in its own. Something I am still trying to understand. With pluses and minuses, it is one of the biggest learning experiences. 

I started my new major. The first semester since high school or even before, when I was so ridiculously driven and excited about learning, that you can find me studying before I go out, before work, after work, before bed, getting up early before class and everywhere in between. 

I moved 30 minutes away from the life I use to live. I am more independent than I have ever been. And I am also the most alone I have ever been. Although most of the time I find freedom in going places alone, doing things on my own time, even going to the movies alone, I find myself feeling older than I should. The relationships in my life has drastically changed. Even 30 minutes away, it's interesting to see how disposable you are to some and how appreciated you are by others. 

The biggest truth I have also learned: you really do need to just depend on yourself, emotionally and physically. At the end of the day most are selfish and most will not think twice of where you are and where you are going. But if you can lean on yourself and be ok with yourself, the days won't seem blank, the relationships you do have are more appreciated, and the goals you set in your life are for you and not everyone else.

I love new things and change. But for the longest time I was afraid to leave the comfort of what I knew because of being forgotten, not fitting in, or worst not succeeding. But what I realized is when you thrust yourself into a place, you will learn to adapt, and you will learn to succeed. 

In 2010, I will be going on my biggest adventure yet, a study abroad to Europe. I'm not afraid anymore. I am only anticipating the things I will learn, the people I will meet, the cultures I will explore, and the stories I will make for my own. 

European Studies

After many years of flip flopping between majors I have finally come to a decision: European Studies.

There are many reasons why I decided to take on such an endeavor. One being the fact that I have been in college way to long to not be working at one specific degree. However, I am fascinated with the European cultures. Everything about them and their history and how they came about is intriguing to me. 

So far I have been to Austria, England, Denmark, and Hungary. I plan to go to many more countries, especially since I want to do a study abroad next year. I was all also be taking on the rather large task of trying to learn German. Good luck to me.

The Truest Statement

"If you hold back on the emotions-- if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them-- you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability loving entails."

Tuesdays With Morrie

Morrie Schwartz

Written by: Mitch Albom

Twilight Zone

So most people have heard of the fiber wires that were vandalized sometime in the super early morning hours of April 9. I mean it was national news, you couldn't really miss it. But let me tell you what it was like to experience it: ridiculous.

First of all, most of us don't realize how much we lean on technology. Yesterday morning chaos hit. Imagine having no phone lines, cell phones, internet, computer systems, debit and check systems, bank access, can't even call 911, and I'm pretty much describing all forms of communication. It really sucks.

I was working that morning at good old Trader Joe's and work was hectic. Customers were pissed off, we were pissed off, everyone was in the bitter barn. A news team for channel 8 came in and taped us working (really awkward when you hear you were on TV but you didn't see it). I couldn't even get lunch on my break because I had no cash and there was no way to get cash. Good thing I work in a grocery store. 

The creepiest part though, it almost felt like there was silence everywhere. It's like all the towns just stopped functioning. Seriously a Twilight Zone episode. Whoever those people were that vandalized the lines to prove a point: NOT COOL. 

There is an award of $250,000 if someone knows who did it. Man I wish I was like a psychic right now. 

Europe

I don't even know how to approach the idea of writing about my recent excursions in Europe. Do I reveal all my secrets and indiscretions? Do I stick to all the boring traditional sites and explanations? Do I try to explain all the inside jokes that my bestest friend and I conjured up? The possibilities are endless. 

Let me begin by saying I spent 5 days in London, England and 5 days in Copenhagen, Denmark. I did not go to Amsterdam people. For some reason everyone kept asking me how Amsterdam was and all I really had to say was never been there, but the airport is nice!

London: Was intense. I fell in love with London and everything in it. I saw the traditional sites like The Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (way disappointing), The London Bridge, Camden, The O2, Harrods (we did not actually go in, too confusing), and so on. We did a night of Karaoke, ate lots of potatoes, drank too much, and walked everywhere. You think San Francisco is diverse, try going to London. I've seen cultures and ethnicities I've only heard or seen on T.V. or read in books. I hung out with English, Welsh, and Swedish folk. Met crazy people in bars and have decided the Irish are too intense for me.

Copenhagen: Surprisingly astonishing. I have never been to a Scandinavian country. In all honesty, I had no idea what to expect. But I adore it. Everyone speaks English there which really helps you get around. The history is amazing and it's like you can really feel how old the city is. They have the best sculptures around the city. Massive amount of shopping, but since I was broke the whole time, shopping was not a part of my vocabulary. I sat on a cannon, saw the Little Mermaid (Denmark's famous statue), walked only on cobblestone, saw live Danish bands, and again drank a lot. 

May I also say that Europe, especially Denmark, but also London, has some of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. Everyone ranging from male to female, young to old, it didn't matter, everyone was radiant. 

My obsession with Europe has really hit an all time high. Being Hungarian and going back to visit family has always intrigued me. But exploring other European cultures absolutely fascinates me. I intend to go back as much as I can and am playing with the idea of doing a study abroad before I graduate (which graduation seems eons away).

And just as a final note, the best part of my trip was seeing Sarah. I was sad the minute I left. She really is the greatest person and my bestest friend. She is my family. I'm so proud of her for what she has done in the past year and admire her more than words can say. But might I also add, the awkwardness that the two of us possess when we are together is ridiculous. I know Sarah, story of our lives. 

Spicy

Let me start off by saying I am full blooded Hungarian. Pure bred as I like to call it. And for those of you who failed geography, it's smack dab in the middle of Europe. Although commonly referred to as a part of Eastern Europe. My point being: I may have fair skin but I'm not just some dumb white girl.

Smoke Eaters, a joint formally known as University Chicken, in downtown San Jose close to SJSU, serves premier chicken wings and other tasty snacks. My good friend Mark and I like to make an appearance once a week or so and devour a few of these juicy pieces of white poultry. The tenders seem to grab our fancy because well lets face it, chicken wings have bones and not a lot of meat, and were lazy carnivores.

In the past, University Chicken was just a place to grab beer for me. I never even looked at their menu. One day Mark takes me to eat lunch there. He tells me they have like 7 different levels of spiciness. I'm pretty excited because if anyone knows me I love spicy food. Adore it really. I find it addicting and the heat keeps me coming back for more. But most people don't believe me when I say I love spicy food. Why would a white girl love spicy food? Or wait let me rephrase that... How can a white girl handle spicy food? Let me take you back to the years of Bonfante Gardens....

The lost years as I like to call them, Bonfante Gardens was a job I sadly held for about 4 years (the only good thing that I got out of there was Sarah and Emily). Most people who live in Gilroy have probably worked there at one time or another. I was a foods supervisor in Villa Pasta before I decided to go to bigger and better things. And in that festering hot kitchen of boiling pasta and burning pizza, I was introduced to Tabasco sauce. With this little vinegary heaven I started my long journey to spicy obsession. Tabasco led to red pepper flakes, jalapenos, habanero peppers, chili peppers, suracha sauce (spelling error I know. Apologies. The asian language isn't as phonetic as I'd like it to be and a bottle is not in front of me to check) and this list goes on. I have found the spiciest food I have consumed to date is Thai food. I have yet to find a partner in crime to go eat with me, except my step mother, but she sadly resides in Sacramento. A little too far to go for lunch or dinner. But yes, Tabasco was my gateway sauce to the world of burning bliss. (Side note- in Jr. High and High School I couldn't even handle Hot Cheetos, they made me sweat like a pig and cry like a baby). 

Inferno is the premier hot sauce within all the selections. Apparently the sauce has even caused people to toss their lunch. (I can believe this because my brother attempted to eat some mexican chili when we were younger from a dare and puked all over out neighbors kitchen). What the hell though, I'm not afraid of a hot sauce. I have a love affair with hot for pete's sake. As I ordered my meal the man asked me what sauce I would like. I said Inferno. And he looked up slowly at me, his eyebrows slowly closing into each other, his face obviously questioning my choice. Thanks to learning poker, reading faces is easy. Especially faces that obviously think your crazy or fibbing. Before I could say anything he asked the question:

"Uh, you like spicy food?"

"Yea dude, I know I'm a white girl and apparently we don't like heat, but I do."

"You ever had it before?"

"Nope. I'm about to attempt."

"Ok. Just tell me if you don't like it and ill get you a different sauce."

"Ha, thanks man, but ill be fine."

And as I paid, his face did not change. Didn't your momma ever teach you it's not good to be a worry wort! It will give you pimples. Duh. 

The chicken came. The sauce a deep red. I dipped the juicy chicken in the sauce and took a bite. As Mark watched. I just kept eating. As if nothing phased me. With the occasional slurp of soda and bite of fries, I was content, comfortable, not sweating, and not tossing my marbles. Mark on the other hand was sweating rivers from the 4 alarm sauce. Portuguese can't hang (kidding Mark).

Let this be a lesson learned that white girls can take heat. I'm still looking to find someone who can even attempt to eat spicier food than me. Come on. Who want's to make a bet? Spice up your life.

The beginning of the end

Today's brilliant idea: start a blog. 

Why I have decided to do this is beyond me and still in question. I can't see why anyone would want to read about me rambling on about nonsense, embarrassing moments, useless facts, ridiculous satire, foolish attempts with political theories, cheesy happiness, pissed off hormones, vicious rhetoric, belligerent black outs, and of course the occasional epiphanies.   

But what the hell. If all else fails this will be an ambitious attempt to keep myself occupied and out of trouble from scorning others with their stupidity or worse, my own.

cheers.