i love the smell of gasoline in the morning

The night started innocent enough... potluck dinner at a friends house on the east side (which means taking the tunnel). I picked up a sushi tray at the market, where the cashier informed me of this documentary that she watched about getting worms from raw fish (nice talk). The hosts were very excited about a new toy they got, which they assured me would be the new Catch Phrase . First off, I have been called the Mary Murphy of Catch Phrase and I don't get siked for karaoke, so I was doubtful. It was entertaining to sit back, watch and laugh, but eventually I had to give in–not necessarily because I wanted to try it so much, but because I was tired of them begging me to. It was pretty rough at first, but I started to get into it mainly for the competitive factor... you were actually scored on your pitch, accuracy, etc. That, and a bottle of wine sealed my excitement. Towards the end of the night I got a call from a friend who needed some info., an address to be exact. She and her girlfriend were on some crazy detective mission and I was more than happy to oblige. Well, I would have been if my phone didn't then just die! My voice was horse and I was beat, so I decided to drive home, then I could recharge my phone and give her the digits.

I'm currently driving around my sisters old banged-up car because mine came to an untimely death on 95North. Running around all day, I lost track of the gas tank, which was well below "E". Of course it chose to call it quits on the 395 overpass at 2am and when I have no cell life! Being the superwoman i am, I contemplated pushing it. I figured if i could just get past the incline, I could cruise it down the ramp. Luckily, I ditched that idea. I thought about trying to flag someone down... maybe a cop. But since I probably reeked of wine, I ditched that one too. So, I got out and walked. It was almost a mile off the highway, down the ramp, pass Camden Yards and into the hood where I reside. It was freezing, but I was so heated about the situation, I thought if anyone messed with me, I could probably just rip them apart with my bare hands. I did meet a new neighbor (Aiden) who was getting off of work in Fed Hill, who kept me some company part of the way. I got home plugged my phone in with the intention of giving my girlfriend the info. she needed, but it was taking so long to charge that I pulled the sofa up to the outlet and passed out. I woke up early this morning and began to panic. I half expected my car to be towed or hit. I began to call everyone i knew in the city to come help, but since no one gets up before noon around here-it was useless. I called a cab company and after going to 2 gas stations, had him drive me to the end of the ramp by the stadium. I walked my butt up the ramp and prayed that my car would still be there. THANK GOODNESS, it was! I put my gallon of gas in and was back in business. Now with all that rush of adrenaline, I have no idea what to do with the rest of my day.

My totally practical wishlist

I'm sure I'm a bit behind on the Polyvore bandwagon, but I'm currently hooked! It's an easy way to play fashion stylist and an easy way to give your mama Christmas ideas (with links!). Here is my practical wishlist... next my totally impractical one (which will obviously be way more fun)! BTW: I'm usually more colorful than this, but I don't trust anyone to buy me colors or patterns.

la la land: the tidal wave

I walk into a 2story building at night that overlooks a busy street. The lower level of the building is a retail store carrying mostly fabric. I notice 2 girls that I know in line as I pass. One that I’m friends with and one who I used to be friends with. My friend comes up to me as I’m walking up the stairs and we exchange awkward small talk, she’s got the "I’m caught being a phony" look all over her face and I’m just like "uh, huh, whatever" (see petty girl shit, even in my dreams). She asks me what I’m doing there and I reply that I’m about to take a sewing workshop class. I say see ya later and continue to walk upstairs. I walk through the room pass the sewing machines to join the rest of the class waiting for the instructor. They are all on the balcony, which spans the width of the building and is pretty deep. There are 2 levels to the balcony, a lower ground level seating about 10 people and a swing above, that seats another 10. The swing is set up amusement style, there is a very wide/glittery/candy apple red/vinyl bar that sits in your lap. No wind-so it’s not swinging at the moment. I take a seat on the swing and listen to the conversations below. After a minute or two, I turn around to view the back of the room. Starting at the top of the steps, is a huge swell of water. Kinda like when Indiana Jones opens a hatch he shouldn’t have and has to run or swim for his life. Seeing this tidal wave of water headed our way, I scream to the others to brace for impact. I squeeze my eyes shut and wrap my arms around the abnormally wide/vinyl bar. I squeeze my eyes tighter and tighter as I hear the blood-curdling screams from the others who can’t hold on and are plunging to their death over the balcony. The waves of water keep coming and my arms are starting to slip. I dig my nails in and puncture the vinyl, I grab onto the stuffing and then onto the interior metal bar... Still refusing to open my eyes.

I wake up in a hospital in Delaware. Bruised and swollen, the doctors tell me that I am the only survivor. My sister picks me up and we drive back to the building. It’s early morning as I walk up the stairs to the 2nd level. The room is barren from everything being washed up and out, over the balcony. The light is blinding and almost all white. I’m in shock, quiet, and numb. I kneel down and put my ear to the ground. I’m listening for water... next time I’ll be better prepared.

Only 1 Regret...

Frankly, I’ve had difficulties putting it all into words. Prior to my trip, Barcelona and the things I would do or see were all I could talk about (especially on cloudy days). But on my return I couldn’t find the words to do it justice, so I really didn’t say much (besides that the American dollar is a total joke). I cringe saying Great & Amazing because they don’t even come close to summarizing Barcelona for me. For a while now the city has been my mini escape when shit was hitting the fan, providing zen moments when I’d much rather be throwing a shoe at someone (hypothetically speaking). So drooling over this city for months prior and then coming face to face with all its grandeur was an emotional experience for me. And, I’m not necessarily a sappy chic. I’d much rather see Freddy Krueger snap someone’s spine and use it as dental floss than, watch Sandra Bullock conveniently trip and fall in the crotch of Mr. Right. It was truly beautiful and I loved Gaudi prior, but have an unhealthy obsession now.
 Some randomness: wine for breakfast, lunch, or dinner  no flesh! (I wore a skirt and boots one day and was looked at like a 2cent hooker)  the 60’s and over male crowd are horny, but harmless (I think I was even flattered at one point)  no one is from Barcelona they really don’t “party” till 2am no dancing in bars (I was reprimanded for this) they love NYC they are proud of “us” for voting Obama into office  they smoke like chimneys and have no qualms about blowing it in your face (hence the need for me to run to the pharmacy for sinus meds) my broken Spanish got me by everywhere (Yes!) time stands still for futbol a croissant and café con leche is a typical breakfast the chics wear tights with everything even shorts and sandals no condiments (really no need)  oh and the American dollar is poo poo
At the end of the week, when I had accomplished all my intended pursuits, my sister and I did a bit of bar hopping. Not that we didn’t split bottles of wine every night, but I refused to be hungover for Gaudi... I do have to preface this with also being a little hopped up on sinus (so sexy) meds I was able to score from the pharmacy (at least I think they were sinus meds). So, feeling no pain :) we stumbled upon a bar off La Rambla that happened to be an Argentinian hang out. At least this is what I gathered from the cute, scruffy Argentinian sitting next to me at the bar. I got to talkin’ to Juan Pablo who just happened to be in advertising (hello light bulb), of course I tried to “sell myself” and get a job eventually in our convo. Anyways, I had reached the point in the night where all I want to do is dance. But the look of horror in Juan Pablo’s face when I suggested dancing in the bar, kept my cheeks planted. Although, I did get up to make him show me his limp (not that one)... He had been explaining to me that he had a slipped disc from playing rugby and was on some meds himself, oh and dancing would be difficult. I called bullshit to this and walked across the bar to make him prove it. As he hobbled over to me, his Argentinian buddies watched and laughed (Ok, bonus for being a good sport). Eventually, and prob after enough of my whining, we relocated to a larger establishment where dancing was appropriate (and I swear it was behind a hidden door and a velvet curtain). Yeah! A dancefloor, I grabbed my crippled friend and dragged him on. Danced a bit and then came closing time... Juan Pablo and his gentlemen friends volunteered to walk my sis and I back to our hostal. On the walk back he asked me to spend the night at his place. Hmmm... Prior to leaving my mother had said, “Don’t leave your sister, no matter how cute he looks,” (really mom, not necessary!). Honestly, the wine and meds were making me feel tingly and all I wanted to do was pass out. So I replied, “I’ll go over your place, but I’m not having sex with you,” (What? Does he think American girls are easy?). He was seriously taken aback by my comment... “Why??? I’ll use a condom.” “No buddy, sorry, not gonna happen.” So I kissed Juan Pablo goodbye and passed out face first into “my bed”. In the morning, I began to recount the nights events with my sister. I told her about our conversation on the walk back to the hostal and how JP offered to make passionate love to me (no, not at all-very dry and to the point actually). So my lil sis, the ying to my yang, the one that makes me look like a damn rebel, says “You should of told him you couldn’t, cuz you’d break his back!” Ugh!!! Why didn’t I think of that? I pride myself on the one-liners and I totally slacked. Arg! So, that’s the only thing I would do differently on my (Amazing) and (Great) trip: is tell Juan Pablo, “I’d break your back.”

BTW: Currently accepting applications for a travel buddy for a Spring trip, cuz with nothing to look forward to-shoes might start flying.

Lovely Spines

Love the simple graphic patterns/colors of these classic book cover redesigns.
Designs by Coralie Bickford-Smith, Interview on Design Sponge on how the pattern relates to the text, Available on Amazon

Barcelona Baby!

Finally! I feel like I've been dreaming of this trip all year (just a couple months!). Although only a week, my agenda is jamm packed with some pretty AMAZING sites, sounds and tastes! I plan on documenting every minute and providing vivid stories and reviews on my return.