I am not sure why, but every time I go back to California it seems as though my life turns to sh*t .
Let me start from the beginning. Friday morning, I woke up and went to my last Plyoburn class. I probably would have been a bit emotional about it, but lunging up a mountain, doing “ man-makers ” until my knuckles were raw, and sprinting 24 sets of stairs kept my tear ducts dry. I did say goodbye to the other regulars and the instructor, and that was a little sad. That class has kind of been my rock. No matter what happens, no matter how shitastic the week has been, I can depend on the fact that I am going to get my ass kicked every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 10am to 11am.
After that, I returned some failed explorations to Book People and Whole Foods (yes, you can do that!) and headed back to Pace’s. I made lunch and then set out to complete my packing. Apparently, JetBlue is a silent killer. They boast that the first checked bag is freeeeeeeee! Free as air! Free as a bird! Free as water!…….Oh, wait. Awkward.
The second checked back is 30$, and every checked bag after that is 75$. And if it is over 50 pounds, it is an extra 50 dollars!
So I am moving my life from Texas to California and judging by my bank balance I need to fit my shtuff into 3 or less bags at 50 pounds or less. Luckily, my friend Clare lent me two gihugenormous duffle bags. I think they are body bags, actually. Clare… are you hiding something?
As I was finishing up shoving my clothing, shoes, food, and a few toiletries into the duffle bags, I realized I had a massive problem. Well, not massive, but like a 20 pound problem.
MY VITAMIX.
No effing way am I leaving my child, my baby, my Vivita (Beh-bee-tuh) in Texas, where she will be malnourished and neglected. Baby needs her green smoothies, ice cream, and pesto on a regular basis.
I managed to put the black heavy base in my suitcase and the canister stuffed with clothing in a duffle. I also found a way to pack my large metalloid Tara statue (a Tibetan diety), a large Tibetan tea canister, and 6 jars of nut butter.
Sadly, I had to sacrifice my ice cream maker and a Tibetan painting. Merh. At least Pace can put it on his wall, right between his Bashar poster and Pace flag. How on earth he found a rainbow flag with his name on it will forever baffle me. And no, he is not bi. I am talking to you, Max. He’s mine.
Then, I hung out with Pace and made him 24 strawberry-blueberry muffins and said my goodbyes to the lovely housemates.
He dropped me at the airport at about 4:30 and I went up to the Jetblue counter to get my ticket and check my bags. The ladies behind the counter had to restrain themselves from laughing as they watched me teeter on high heels while loading the 65 pound body bag onto the scale. All in all, I was about 30 pounds overweight.
Would it help if I ate all the nut butter right now? No? Damn.
In the end, they were as sweet as aspartame and didn’t charge me for my fatness. The flight was wretched. I was next to a talker, which ordinarily is okay, but not when they are a ripped, spray tanned bro who wants to argue with you about the highlights of American democracy and policy. That was fun. Apparently, Mexican immigrants are lucky that we let them use the hospital for free to give birth. Oh, and since all countries have partaken in slavery, we don’t actually need to do anything about our past aggressions because, you know, everyone did it. And one more thing, men being gay “is so gross, its just wrong” but for women “its hot.”
As you can imagine, I suffered about 4 aneurisms. Tis a shame I didn’t have a bat handy; I could have pleaded insanity. Damned airport security…
After escaping the plane as quickly as possible, I collected my stuff and was picked up by my dear friend Emily. She fed me and took me to my car in Huntington. My plan was to drive to Santa Barbara and stay with another friend, Chelsea, but that is not exactly what went down.
The drive took about 2 and a half hours but by blasting rap, indie, and electronic beatz and almost running out of gas, the time just flew by! I think my car literally died pulling into the gas station.
I thought that my storage unit was 24 hours so I went there to pick up my stuff (this is at 11pm) and then I was going to go to Chelsea’s, but it was closed. And Chelsea’s phone was off. And the other friend I texted in hopes of sleeping on her couch didn’t answer. Of course, there were other people I could have asked, but I just didn’t want to. You know?
Bloggers and foodies alike talk about how much they love Whole Foods. They praise the healthy products, vast selection, and kind employees. They brag about their long term relationship with Whole Foods.
But, I have got you all beat. I went to bed with Whole Foods last night. Twas amazing. He even made me breakfast this morning.
No, but really, once I realized I was going to be sleeping in my car, the first place that popped into my head was Whole Foods. It’s basically my second home. Or maybe even my first home because I don’t seem to live anywhere for longer than a year at a time. So I drove to Whole Foods and talked to the all-night guard. He said he didn’t mind if I parked there and he seemed safe. So I rolled on into a spot in the corner and made myself a little nest in the back. It was pretty cramped between my duffles but once I figured out that I should lay my entire body on top my body pillow instead of just using it for my head, I got decently comfortable.
I think I woke up about 4 times between midnight and 6am, but no biggie. I had some crazy dreams, but I don’t remember them. And while I was back there, I found some 4 month old Oroweat Protein Bread that was not molded.
Can you even imagine what chemicals must be in there to make that possible?
I woke up ravenous at 6am and was thoroughly depressed to learn that the Santa Barbara Whole Foods doesn’t open until 8am. Instead, I went to this awesome little café named Jeanine’s and treated myself to unlimited coffee and steel cut oatmeal (with added almond butter from my personal stash).
Afterwards, I headed to my old house to pick up the first half of my stuff. Two hours later I went to my storage unit for the second half. When I opened the door, my jaw dropped. How the hell do I have so much stuff? What is this? I hadn’t seen any of that shiz in three months and I thought that there was much less in the unit. I carried it all down to the car and layed it out to survey.
Not gonna happen.
In the end, the only way to fit all my stuff into the car was to:
1. Give my full mattress to this nice family of 7
2. Also give them a suitcase full of clothes and a suitcase full of books and random items
3. Take ALL of my stuff out of their containers/boxes/suitcases/bags/baskets and layer the stuff into my car
4. Plead the family to drop off the containers at a thrift shop for me because I had no room in my car to take them anywhere
There was literally not one square inch of unused space in my car. Proof:
Front, not quite done yet. Can’t see behind me at all.
Left
Right. Poor Corduroy…
Finally, at noon, I was on my way to Davis. I was anticipating getting there in about 7 hours thanks to my handy dandy i-phone. During those 7 hours I…
partially ran over a hay bale
saw a mean looking motorcycle gang in matching jackets
witnessed 12 speeding tickets
was spared a urinating in public ticket
did some calisthenics on the side of the highway
saw a dozen discarded bricks of weed on the side of the 101
…..I am not kidding. I couldn’t even make that up if I tried. You don’t have to believe me, but honestly, what else could a rectangular package of green wrapped in saran wrap be? Wrapped with love and discarded with fear. Pity.
Despite countless blind lane changes and bouts of inattention, I made it to my new home in Davis at 7:03 pm all in one piece. I am now deliriously unpacking and on the verge of passing out. Good night.
I am not sure why, but every time I go back to California it seems as though my life turns to sh*t .
Let me start from the beginning. Friday morning, I woke up and went to my last Plyoburn class. I probably would have been a bit emotional about it, but lunging up a mountain, doing “ man-makers ” until my knuckles were raw, and sprinting 24 sets of stairs kept my tear ducts dry. I did say goodbye to the other regulars and the instructor, and that was a little sad. That class has kind of been my rock. No matter what happens, no matter how shitastic the week has been, I can depend on the fact that I am going to get my ass kicked every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 10am to 11am.
After that, I returned some failed explorations to Book People and Whole Foods (yes, you can do that!) and headed back to Pace’s. I made lunch and then set out to complete my packing. Apparently, JetBlue is a silent killer. They boast that the first checked bag is freeeeeeeee! Free as air! Free as a bird! Free as water!…….Oh, wait. Awkward.
The second checked back is 30$, and every checked bag after that is 75$. And if it is over 50 pounds, it is an extra 50 dollars!
So I am moving my life from Texas to California and judging by my bank balance I need to fit my shtuff into 3 or less bags at 50 pounds or less. Luckily, my friend Clare lent me two gihugenormous duffle bags. I think they are body bags, actually. Clare… are you hiding something?
As I was finishing up shoving my clothing, shoes, food, and a few toiletries into the duffle bags, I realized I had a massive problem. Well, not massive, but like a 20 pound problem.
MY VITAMIX.
No effing way am I leaving my child, my baby, my Vivita (Beh-bee-tuh) in Texas, where she will be malnourished and neglected. Baby needs her green smoothies, ice cream, and pesto on a regular basis.
I managed to put the black heavy base in my suitcase and the canister stuffed with clothing in a duffle. I also found a way to pack my large metalloid Tara statue (a Tibetan diety), a large Tibetan tea canister, and 6 jars of nut butter.
Sadly, I had to sacrifice my ice cream maker and a Tibetan painting. Merh. At least Pace can put it on his wall, right between his Bashar poster and Pace flag. How on earth he found a rainbow flag with his name on it will forever baffle me. And no, he is not bi. I am talking to you, Max. He’s mine.
Then, I hung out with Pace and made him 24 strawberry-blueberry muffins and said my goodbyes to the lovely housemates.
He dropped me at the airport at about 4:30 and I went up to the Jetblue counter to get my ticket and check my bags. The ladies behind the counter had to restrain themselves from laughing as they watched me teeter on high heels while loading the 65 pound body bag onto the scale. All in all, I was about 30 pounds overweight.
Would it help if I ate all the nut butter right now? No? Damn.
In the end, they were as sweet as aspartame and didn’t charge me for my fatness. The flight was wretched. I was next to a talker, which ordinarily is okay, but not when they are a ripped, spray tanned bro who wants to argue with you about the highlights of American democracy and policy. That was fun. Apparently, Mexican immigrants are lucky that we let them use the hospital for free to give birth. Oh, and since all countries have partaken in slavery, we don’t actually need to do anything about our past aggressions because, you know, everyone did it. And one more thing, men being gay “is so gross, its just wrong” but for women “its hot.”
As you can imagine, I suffered about 4 aneurisms. Tis a shame I didn’t have a bat handy; I could have pleaded insanity. Damned airport security…
After escaping the plane as quickly as possible, I collected my stuff and was picked up by my dear friend Emily. She fed me and took me to my car in Huntington. My plan was to drive to Santa Barbara and stay with another friend, Chelsea, but that is not exactly what went down.
The drive took about 2 and a half hours but by blasting rap, indie, and electronic beatz and almost running out of gas, the time just flew by! I think my car literally died pulling into the gas station.
I thought that my storage unit was 24 hours so I went there to pick up my stuff (this is at 11pm) and then I was going to go to Chelsea’s, but it was closed. And Chelsea’s phone was off. And the other friend I texted in hopes of sleeping on her couch didn’t answer. Of course, there were other people I could have asked, but I just didn’t want to. You know?
Bloggers and foodies alike talk about how much they love Whole Foods. They praise the healthy products, vast selection, and kind employees. They brag about their long term relationship with Whole Foods.
But, I have got you all beat. I went to bed with Whole Foods last night. Twas amazing. He even made me breakfast this morning.
No, but really, once I realized I was going to be sleeping in my car, the first place that popped into my head was Whole Foods. It’s basically my second home. Or maybe even my first home because I don’t seem to live anywhere for longer than a year at a time. So I drove to Whole Foods and talked to the all-night guard. He said he didn’t mind if I parked there and he seemed safe. So I rolled on into a spot in the corner and made myself a little nest in the back. It was pretty cramped between my duffles but once I figured out that I should lay my entire body on top my body pillow instead of just using it for my head, I got decently comfortable.
I think I woke up about 4 times between midnight and 6am, but no biggie. I had some crazy dreams, but I don’t remember them. And while I was back there, I found some 4 month old Oroweat Protein Bread that was not molded.
I woke up ravenous at 6am and was thoroughly depressed to learn that the Santa Barbara Whole Foods doesn’t open until 8am. Instead, I went to this awesome little café named Jeanine’s and treated myself to unlimited coffee and steel cut oatmeal (with added almond butter from my personal stash).
Afterwards, I headed to my old house to pick up the first half of my stuff. Two hours later I went to my storage unit for the second half. When I opened the door, my jaw dropped. How the hell do I have so much stuff? What is this? I hadn’t seen any of that shiz in three months and I thought that there was much less in the unit. I carried it all down to the car and layed it out to survey.
In the end, the only way to fit all my stuff into the car was to:
1. Give my full mattress to this nice family of 7
2. Also give them a suitcase full of clothes and a suitcase full of books and random items
3. Take ALL of my stuff out of their containers/boxes/suitcases/bags/baskets and layer the stuff into my car
4. Plead the family to drop off the containers at a thrift shop for me because I had no room in my car to take them anywhere
There was literally not one square inch of unused space in my car. Proof:
Finally, at noon, I was on my way to Davis. I was anticipating getting there in about 7 hours thanks to my handy dandy i-phone. During those 7 hours I…
partially ran over a hay bale
saw a mean looking motorcycle gang in matching jackets
witnessed 12 speeding tickets
was spared a urinating in public ticket
did some calisthenics on the side of the highway
saw a dozen discarded bricks of weed on the side of the 101
…..I am not kidding. I couldn’t even make that up if I tried. You don’t have to believe me, but honestly, what else could a rectangular package of green wrapped in saran wrap be? Wrapped with love and discarded with fear. Pity.
Despite countless blind lane changes and bouts of inattention, I made it to my new home in Davis at 7:03 pm all in one piece. I am now deliriously unpacking and on the verge of passing out. Good night.