June 2009


And then there were two.

There used to be four. Now we will only have two.

The first moved to style the hair of celebrities; she comes home often, telling tales of the eccentric people, like those at her Santa Monica gym, stair-stepping in oversized sunglasses and pink UGGs. The second is moving in a week for retail merchandising; her new life will involve a two-hour commute in L.A. traffic and business trips to China and India. The third is content in the Minnesota ‘burbs with her man, raising a puppy and working as a dental hygienist. And the fourth – me? I am restless, always restless.

The four of us, we started in the same place, all friends from high school, and yet despite our diverging life paths, our group dynamic still works. They aren’t the friends that sugar-coat their lives, insisting that they are happy and everything is wonderful. They are the friends that bitch about their problems and tell amusing stories about their latest sexual partner. I adore them. Especially on nights like last night where the wine bottles to people ratio is skewed toward the wine side.

The second is making her move this next Tuesday morning. The third is joining her for the trek cross-country. I have also been invited. Even though taking three days of PTO and missing one five-hour summer-school class to drive TWENTY-EIGHT hours is a bad idea, I still debate. I like being one of four.

Vacation details are pretty difficult through which to navigate. You give too much, the audience loses interest. You don’t give enough, they think your trip was totally lame. I usually just stick with the whole It was amazing! when I respond to friends, but I’ve been back for three weeks now and while all (miniscule) interest has most likely all but waned, I still thought I should post SOMETHING. Something about the place, not just the guy of whom everyone still asks if I’m dating.
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Top five favorite things about my trip:

1. Surfing. I won the superstar award in my class – the next day I didn’t stand up at all so I must have peaked that first day. We took lessons with three guys from Israel. I stood up my second time and rode all the way to shore. I have no idea how I did that. By the end, The Firefighter and I got cocky and when one was riding and the other was walking back from shore, we’d put out our hands for the other to five. The cockiness lasted a day, as we then went to a beach with real waves and got both our asses kicked.

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2. Monkeys. Hi Monkey! Four different varieties. Never got tired of them. We were forever on a mission for monkeys. When we’d only see birds (exotic, beautiful birds!) at a park, we’d leave the park bitter. We were better than birds.
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3. The Firefighter. Yeah, he makes the top-five list. Don’t really want to elaborate on too many details – some you’ve heard, some are eye-rollers, some would make you vomit they are that barfy – so let’s leave it at he makes the top-five list.

4. Hammocks. I had time to hammock. Vacation Molly is a pretty chill chick, who has time to hammock. She also enjoys playing cribbage and drinking in the afternoon. I like her. Sharing a hammock is pretty enjoyable, too – especially when The Firefighter would share half his ipod with me. He’d listen to the classical station when driving but when relaxing on the hammock: hard rap. Yes, that makes sense.
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5. Night hikes in the parks. Sloth? Yes. Tarantulas? Two. Scary noises in the dark? Of course. I like walking at night.
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Honorable mention: Waterfalls. Because I like standing next to them and have the mist drench me.

Cubans

My period, that lovely guy, comes typically in five-week cycles each alternating month. To keep things interesting. Which just means that on the five-week months, I have a whole extra seven days to feel like the bloated version of the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters.

Last night, I was destroying the kitchen in search of just little morsel that might soothe my internal hormonal beast. The rampage apparently turned cacophonous, as The Sister came down to check on me (and refill her glass from our Monday night wine).

“Dude, you ok?

“Yes. No. Do you want some chocolate? TOO bad. It is all gone. Every single, Halloween-aged piece. Gone.”

“I just went grocery shopping – why don’t you eat some hummus? Or I made some chicken for dinner?”

She was offering HEALTHY SNACKS and actual MEALS? Does she not know anything about bingeing? “That is not helpful. If you were a good sister, you wouldn’t secretly judge that I just ate an entire box of Poptarts, instead you would tell me where you hid the GD Oreos.”

“Um, yeah, so … on the plus side, if you don’t get your period, at least your fear of breaking the newborn baby won’t come into fruition. That thing has gotta be at least 12 pounds by now.”