Wowza!

Ok. So I finally have a minute to breathe. Or two even. I've been literally going non-stop since my parents arrived here three weeks ago. It was absolutely wonderful having them in town, and it was super sad to leave them for the left coast.

I had a great trip to California - haven't been to LA in at least 10 years - learned a lot at our class, saw a TON of beautiful scenery, saw some good friends I haven't seen in ages, ate really well and only embarrassed myself once (all blame goes to Rob and tequila). I'd forgotten how gorgeous the mountains and the ocean are in Cali. Our training class was at the Newport Beach Marriott, and when it was over, I took the Pacific Coast Highway all the way up to LA from Laguna Beach. I've long said that my next move will be to the Big Apple, but I might have to detour to live in the mountains.

I ate my weight in In 'N Out burgers, had an amazing meal at Rivera (I highly recommend olive oil poached lobster served with melon cubes and a green chile gelee), saw the Hollywood sign, the building where Michael Jackson is buried, took a lovely drive down and up Mullholland, drove past the Chateau Marmont, and finally up the PCH to Malibu. Dear god there are some AMAZING homes with stunning views in southern California. I want an address on Mullholland Drive. There were a couple times I literally had my breath taken away. Thankfully I didn't drive myself off a cliff.

I would love to say that when I got back from my vacation that I was refreshed and ready to get back to work. In fact, the opposite happened. I walked back into three large groups checking in on successive days, a client meeting with my first social function in years (read = lots of work), and an ambush of sorts. I'm really hoping it gets better, and it's seemed to in the last week or so, because really, it needs to. I also need to take a crash course in letting the things I have no control over go and not worry about them.

Our fall kickball league has started and we're now 2-1. Go Team America!! Voodoo Fest is every bit as amazing as I've heard. Darkness Day was an absolute blast (more on that separately). I miss my friends in MN and my family terribly. And that's pretty much it. Same old, different day. At least it's cooled off in the big sleazy.

This is what happens....

When I forget to post already written blog entries....from 10/4.......

In true impulsive form, I will be back in the TC for less than 48 hours for one of the best beer events of the year. After having my Facebook and Twitter feeds jammed with Autumn Brew Review and Surlyfest updates, I said no more. I'm not missing another one. So sayeth the brewer.

See you drinkin'.

I'm back in the Big Easy now....if you didn't see me, your loss. You'll just have to make more of an effort when I'm back next time. 11/14 at Stub and Herbs, I think.

Well....

I was contemplating writing a really morose post about the hell that has been my life the last two days. Instead I shall leave you with a cymbal playing monkey.

California Dreamin.....

Yup, I'm in Cali. Hoping that my travel day on Sunday will allow me to get y'all caught up on the last few days of my parents visit as well as a recap of this AMAZING training class I attended.

I'm a little annoyed the sun isn't out yet, but guess what? I'm in SoCal and you're not.

A moment of calm

And I want more. It's been a crazy week of work and play and it's done. Well, almost....

Half of my parents arrived on Tuesday. Wow. It's hard to believe it's been two months since I've seen them. I met them at their hotel and many hugs were had, their travel plans were discussed and dinner locales were tossed about. We ended up at Port of Call, one of the better burger joints in the city. I have a wildly different palate than my mom and step-dad, so a burger place seemed like it would be pleasing to all. And it was. Wow. Seriously good burgers there.

After dinner we walked around the Quarter for a bit and then up Frenchman street and back to the car. We drove up Esplanade and then over to Uptown, showing them the St. Charles streetcar line and where I'm thinking about moving to (when my lease is up, of course). I dropped them off after our drive and went home.

Wednesday I picked them up and we made our way to Cafe du Monde. I've had a fair share of beignets here, and I've been by The Cafe, but never bothered to stop in. Too touristy, too crowded, too much to look at elsewhere in the quarter. It was magnificent. Really truly amazing pastries. The coffee was meh, but most coffee is.

We drove around the places we went Tuesday night, to see them in daylight. I gave them the grand tour of my abode and then I went into work. Oh, how I wish I wouldn't have. I won't discuss it here, but suffice to say that one of the biggest challenges I've had since I moved hasn't been the adjustment to a new city or the lack of friends or even the job itself. If you've spoken with me in any capacity in the last 5 months (has it really been that long?!?!), you know. Basically, I like throwing stones at hornet's nests. But you knew that about me.

After work, we grabbed a bottle of wine and hit up a local pizza joint to watch the Twins game. All was going well until the end of the game of course. Thursday brought a day of pampering....from manicures to ice cream to prosciutto and pedicures, to more wine and pool time, it should have been a lovely day that was completely marred by things going on at the office. I felt absolutely awful about my mood and have sworn to myself that it won't happen again. My parents came from 1300 miles away, and they deserve me at my best, not the crabbiness that infested me yesterday.

And so here we are today, with only two full days left. I was supposed to join them on a river cruise this afternoon, and life had other plans. So, tonight we'll do dinner and tomorrow brings a swamp tour. And me in a better mood. It makes me sad that 60 hours from now I'll be on a plane to LA and they'll still be here. Yes, I'm sacrificing time with my family because of my job. It'll never happen again, because at the end of the day, family will always be there, jobs will come and go.

Reasons I love gay bars.

Oh, let me count the ways.

First, I'm not the hottest chick on the planet, but even fugly chicks get their asses grabbed in nightclubs. I'm a fan of gay bars, because if it for some reason does happen, I'm fairly certain it doesn't really mean anything. Whereas, if I'm in a straight nightclub, they're usually trying to get in my pants. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I'll be standing at the bar of whatever hip nightclub just opened and some dude comes up to me and grabs my ass. It's so flipping annoying and the quickest way to have me put you on my own personal do not call list. This is why I generally don't go to nightclubs in the first place.

Second, I rarely have to worry about getting roofied. Or, flooried as it were. Either way, I'm pretty sure no one in a gay bar is going to mistake me for a drag queen, and therefore, they're not going to try to sleep with me. As such, putting a roofie in my drink is completely wasting it, and usually guys put them in the drinks of people they want to get in bed with, AKA, not mine. At least that's been my experience with it. Different story for a different day though.

Third, rarely has a night a gay bar ever cost me more than $30. I like cheap drinking nights. There is little in life more irritating to me than finding a receipt for a $100 night. Or worse, the bartender calling me the next day and letting me know I walked out on said $100 bar tab. Yes, it's happened.

3a. The first reason these tend to be cheap drinking nights is because the drinks are stupid strong. Like a glass of vodka and a splash of cranberry strong. Which translates into only needing a couple of them to get the job done, therefore resulting in a cheap bar tab.

3b. The second reason is because it's rare that I'm buying my own drinks in said bar, but when I do, see 3a.. I usually roll in with friends, and they usually pay for everything. And sometimes when we go, it's two-for-ones, or even three-for-ones (see 3a). Other times we go, friends introduce me to their friends and they pay for everything. On a rare occasion, I'll meet the one straight guy in the place, and those are the best. They're so excited to see a semi-hot chick in the place I've got drinks coming my way all night long. This scenario however heightens my awareness of the whole roofie situation, though not a lot. Straight guys in gay bars rarely travel with roofies.

The fourth reason I totally dig on gay bars is because there are those nights I'm in the mood to just shake my ass. And when I'm in that mood, I don't need some sweaty ass dude with frosted tips and a popped collar fist-pumping his way all up in my space. Especially if he reeks like Drakkar Noir (side story - but DN stopped smelling good in high school, guys). I dance better alone, and sometimes I just like to stare at super hot guys that are ripped dancing without their shirts on to the same Madonna remix that I love. Or J-Lo. Or whatever super awesome music they're playing. Because music in gay bars NEVER sucks.

For the better part of the last week, I've been wracking my brain trying to come up with a fifth reason to like gay bars. And really? I can't. If the first four didn't sell you on it, then I'm done. I give up. If those four aren't good enough, than you probably should stay away from them. Hopefully it'll free up a barstool for me to plant myself on. Speaking of, if you can recommend any good ones in NOLA, I'm willing to listen to recommendations.