My PB + J

5th Annual Wig Pub Crawl: Downtown SD

Last weekend we had a jump start to Halloween festivities and participated in the 5th Annual Wig Pub Crawl in downtown San Diego. The theme this year was, “the future’s so bright, you gotta wear shades”. It was a much anticipated weekend with our friends, Mike, Elise, Finleigh (Irish) and Patrice (Blue). Finleigh, Patrice and I had been hunting for wigs for a couple weeks and finally waited until the last minute and headed to Hillcrest three days before the event. There were some pretty terrible wigs out there but the three of us decided for the same exact wig in three different colors. We started off the night by getting our make-up done at MAC on 5th and then met at the hotel to get ready for our night on the town. We were running a little late and ended up walking over to my restaurant and had one of my delivery drivers take us to our first bar where we met up with the hundred or so other wig goers. Our first bar was “Bondi“, such a cool atmosphere! On Jim’s birthday I had told myself that I wanted to go there, I would definitely go back so I could sit in one of the baskets. Our second bar was “O”, this is where all the debauchery started to happen, but we were so hungry and captivated by all the scenery that we really didn’t get into this bar. Our third stop was at “On Broadway”, and man oh man was it fun. Right away we started off with two shots back to back and then headed downstairs to the bathroom and got body art to match our outfits, and then headed back onto the dance floor where we danced for a while and then got silly with the camera. In a few hours we managed to take over 200 pictures on my camera alone. For those of you that have me as a friend on myspace or facebook you should take the time to browse them, they are pretty funny. Anyway, such a great idea and it was a blast walking the streets as your alter-ego.
@ “Bondi”
@ “On Broadway”
@ “O”
Pre-Party @ the Hotel..Pink and Kurt Cobaine

TrueBlood

As many people stayed home this week glued to their televisions for “national stay at home week” we found ourselves obsessing about HBO’s TrueBlood. The newly added series is on episode number five and after each week we are kicking ourselves for another to start. The premise of the show is that vampires are coming out from their coffins and living as normal citizens. Sookie Stackhouse (Anna Paquin), has an ability to hear one’s thoughts without them knowing. Her quirkiness and her past leaves her mostly as an outsider understanding how her new friend Bill, a 173-year-old vampire is feeling in the town of Bon Temps. This show is amazing and I cannot tell you enough to watch at least one episode, it will leave you feeling “glamoured”.

P.S., I think I have a crush on Bill. . .

Poetry

On my six-and-a-half-year journey of earning my B.A. in English I discovered something that laid within my inner soul, poetry. When achieving your degree in English you have to choose a concentration; poetry/fiction, linguistics or literature. I thought that poetry would be easier and much quicker than the other two. What I did not take into consideration was that my peers would be judging my creativity. Those thoughts that bring tears to your eyes or enrage you so much would be torn a part, critiqued and trashed. I had to learn not to let it bother me, but how can you do that? One of my very first poems composed was about my Grandmother in my beginning poetry class, my teacher raved about it saying that it was “publishable”. The next quarter in my advanced poetry writing class I re-submitted it so I could have my Professor and famed poet Pete Fairchild critque it. It did not go as planned with my classes take on the poem, some could not imagine what I was writing about and thought a lot of it didn’t make sense. After my tough critique I cried in the hallway. Before our next class metting Professor Fairchild pulled me into the hallway and said he re-read it and understood the meaning and deep emotion that lay within my memory of Grandmother. Needless to say, I did not make any of the revisions my peers gave as suggestions, and how could I? I could not take away the emotion and the hours of crying just to get the words on the screen as I sat on my purple down comforter. They are the simple memories I cherish of my Grandmother. For the first time EVER, I am going to post a poem, I never share any of my deep emotions with anyone except for family and those ten college students that critiqued me over three poetry classes.

My Golden ‘M’

Christmas Eve 2000,
My last favorable memory with you.
We had our usual fare—
honey ham with spicy hot mustard, potato salad,
and my favorite ‘Oreole’ chocolate cake.

Sitting by the fireplace opening the few packages,
treasuring every moment and memories of the past.
I remember you saying,
“do you remember when I made you that doggie sweater?”
I would smile and nod—

Bright, white lights, beeping and deep breathing.
“Is that you Robert?”
“No, its me Grandma”
I slipped back into childhood, attempting to recollect
every story you had once told me.
I couldn’t, my mind turned to jell-o.

Three months and thirty-one days passed since the New Year.
Awakening with crusty sleep in my eyes,
I scanned my room for something familiar.
My eyes focused on your photograph:

A smudged ocean floor
speckled with clownfish eggs.
A single fuchsia carnation
carrying the petals of life.
The bubblegum pink jumpsuit
so soft,
brought me back to your sweet touch.
The sparkle in your eyes
radiant,
like your golden ‘M’ necklace.
The silver hair, not a reminder of growing old
but a lesson on how to age gracefully.
The wine glass full with Chablis
a reminder of your once hourglass figure.

I was stunned, you embraced me that day.
The phone rang. I wept.
I will never hear of that silver doggie
with fluffy, floppy ears ever again.

Le Petite Kŭp’kāk is Born!

Today marks my official obsession with cupcakes. You know you’ve got an addiction when you need to have an entire blog based on a petite cake. I have been pondering a name for months, I knew it had to be something that incorporated my two loves; English (hence, what I have my degree in) and lovely little cakes. I originally wanted it to be “Melly’s kāks“, but I was a little hesitant if people would understand the phonetic form of cake. After putting some serious thought into this I went with “Le Petite Kŭp’kāk“. It may seem a little silly but I will always have a love for linguistics. This new blog with solely document my obsession of cupcakes and my journey of discovering the perfect Kŭp’kāk recipes.

I still have a lot of work to do on the new site but I wanted to share it with the five of you that actually view my blog. Thank you to all of my cupcakery lovin‘ bloggers out there who inspired me and continue to inspire me daily.

http://lepetitekupkak.blogspot.com

A Thoughtful Gesture from an Amazing Friend

When I got home this evening from taking Makayla home I was greeted by a “live plant” in a box. The box was half opened as Jim beat me home, but the suspense was killing me. Our best friends, Jen and Jerome (The Boroff’s) had sent us a gardenia telling us that they missed us and couldn’t wait until the next time we get together. It’s truly the little things in life that mean the most, not a thousand dollar trip to Hawaii or Vegas, but just simply telling the ones you care the most about that you are thinking about them and miss the time that you once spent as inseparable friends. If you know me you absolutely know that I love gardenias, the reason is because of my late Grandmother. My Grandma had a courtyard at her house in Irvine that had several gardenia bushes and her house always carried a gardenia aroma. I remember as a child sitting in her dining room adjacent to the sliding doors to the courtyard and on a early spring morning having a swift breeze carry the gardenia perfume throughout the house. It’s just one of those memories that keeps my Grandmother alive and I am thankful for my friends by allowing me to revisit a childhood memory. As a side story about gardenias, on our wedding day I was adamant about having two large gardenias for my hair during the reception. The flowers were suppose to supply two meanings: one being it would be beautiful and two every time I would move I know I would smell the gardenia scent and remember my Grandma who was there on that day only in spirit. Minutes before our reception started, my Mom was pinning my dress and I needed my flowers, nobody seemed to know where they were, I was in complete shock but knew that nothing could be done, my florist simply “forgot”. When my Father and I danced to Tim McGraw’s “My Little Girl” I was crying not only for that moment but I was so distraught about my missing gardenias, it was the one key element that I wanted because I miss her so dearly and have never had a proper good-bye, by smelling the aroma it brings my Grandmother back to me no matter where I am. Thank you again Jen and Jerome, I know you didn’t intend for me to get emotional but thank you for always being extremely thoughtful. I love you guys.