Boba Tea, Boba Fett

I'll try anything twice.

Cow brains? Yum. Blood pudding? Ok. Chocolate covered ants? Yes please!

Anytime I can try something new to eat, I'm right there, first in line. So when I discovered Boba Tea, or Bubble Tea, I wanted some right away.

Boba Tea (or Boba Fett Tea, as I like to call it, cause I'm a bit dorky) comes from the lovely land of Taiwan and has been working it's way west since the 80's. Depending on where you get it, this tea can look quite different. The only kind I've ever had looks like this first picture. It's a creamy, milky color in a clear cup and served with a HUGE straw. Now the reason for the straw is obvious once you take your first big sip. At the bottom of your glass are the ''bubbles'' or ''pearls''. These are tapioca pearls.

Now this is what makes the drink so unique. The tapioca balls are large and chewy. (If you have ever had tapioca pudding and seen the little translucent balls, that's the same thing, except these are larger.) I personally love the consistency but I have friends who don't care for it. They are usually soaked in sugar, honey or other flavors since the plain pearl have no real taste.

Teeny tapioca pearls

The tea itself was originally Taiwanese black tea, condensed milk and honey but over time has morphed into countless types. Iced tea, Green tea, Fruit tea, even coffee, as well as different variations in the colors of the pearls themselves. Also the types of milk is switched up, most opting for non-dairy creamer or powdered of some kind, since genetically many East Asians are lactose intolerant.

Well all this talk has gotten me thirsty. I'm off to the local Lollicup for lovely cup of tea. What kind, I'm not sure of yet. There are so many to choose from! Cheers!

Fat.

Men are sometimes clueless, but I don't think they're stupid.

Do you ever think any man was dumb enough to actually call his girlfriend/wife/significant other fat? I'm not talking about a trap question made by the woman... "What do you think of my new jean? Lori says they make my ass look big." That is a trap.

"I throw up... A LOT."

Or a misunderstanding, like a man trying to complement his woman for not being a Kate Moss, anorexic twig and she takes it the wrong way. "So what, you're saying I'm a giant ugly cow with a bad haircut?"

Do you think a well meaning, good man has ever come out and just a flat out said, "Wow, you got fat!" Yeah I'm not so sure... unless he means "phat", in which case I need to find a time machine and send him back to 2002.

Love is a many screwed up things...

I feel awful.

I feel alone and hopeless. I feel tricked and used and stupid. What's that about?

I love my life. I am so blessed it's getting ridiculous. I have a great family, the friends I have prayed for since I was a child, a beautiful home, amazing travel, great books, delicious food...

But no love. Not from a man. I have all these things but because I have no love I feel so sad. I don't understand. Why does a woman like me feel she needs a man at all? I have everything else... I get love and support from my family and friends. Is that supposed to be enough?

I am firmly of the mind set that believes that I don't NEED a man to complete me. I am complete without him. I lived before him and I will live after he is gone. I should WANT a man to share my life and want him to want me. There shouldn't be a NEED. Well, maybe after 50 years of marriage and I need him to open my medication for me or need him to help me up the stairs or to push my wheel chair... but that's different!

But here where I stand, I am hopeless that I will find someone. Someone who appreciates my strange and lovely way. Someone smart, funny, drug-free, non-violent with a clean criminal record and a good career. Someone single, that means no other girlfriends too. Someone mentally stable. Someone without excuses or reasons for the way they act so poorly. Someone who is proud of their good choices. Someone I can be proud of... and right now, I feel like he might not be out there. And if that's true, can I live the rest of my life without feeling like I've missed out on something good?

I'm working on being positive. Even though I don't feel it now, I have to keep telling myself, love exists. It's out there and when I'm ready, I'll get back out there and we will find each other. Just hearing myself say that out loud conjures the urge to yell "Bullshit!" but I'm trying to stay positive over here.

So here are some healthy, positive romances that worked out, fictional for now... mostly because I can't find any in real life yet... But I'm going to keep looking!

Charlotte and Harry
Ok, I'm a big girly girl when it comes to Sex and the City. The clothes, the drama, it's fun! And there are tons of gorgeous men in every episode. But for me, believe it or not, the hottest, most attractive, sexiest, sweetest, most wonderful man on the show is Harry Goldenblat. He's bald, short and hairy, but supportive, sweet, smart and he loves Charlotte for everything she is and has done for him. Charlotte was getting divorced from her 'Prince Charming'(the blue blood man of her dreams turned out to be just that, a dream.) and hired Harry to be her ball busting lawyer. He falls in love with her but she is reluctant because he isn't her "type". Soon, she finds that she could be with no one else. To me, he is perfect. He keeps a level head when she is flipping out, he always thinks she is sexy without making her feel dirty, and rolls with the punches. And her friends love him. That's a biggie.

Elizabeth and Darcy
They're stubborn. Their prideful. They are perfect together. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorite books and this romance keeps me going in 'dry' times. Both are good, deserving people but due to misunderstandings, acts of pride and good intentions, things get all mucked up. In the end though, they lay their feelings out to each other and find, to Elizabeth's surprise, that he is perfect for her.

Jim Carry once said,

"If you go around saying, 'It's impossible. No one will ever love me. A good man is hard to find,' then you're saying to the universe that you don't believe in abundance. This universe that created the stars, galaxies, Niagara Falls, the Grand Canyon and the duck-billed platypus is quite capable of finding someone for you that has the capacity to love you, no matter what your situation is."

But that is Jim Carry... the man doesn't have the best track record with women.

More hope filled is a writer for The Guardian who wrote,

"So perhaps we haven't become disillusioned with romance itself, just distrustful of its ability to thrive in such a cynical age."

I hope I can get to that place soon.

I still exist...

Death has come for a visit.Yes, I am alive.

Yes, I'm still stiff and very sick.

And yes, another day will go by without a real post.

Screw off.

You would do the same thing if your snot was more colorful than Joseph's Technicolor dream coat...

When it rains...

The Flu.Here's a quick update:

(mostly because I spent the night sleeping on the floor of my bathroom with the flu...)

They identified the owner of the car that hit me. No one is sure if it was the same guy that was in the car. (why no one knows that is beyond me...) I have to go downtown for a photo line up to try and identify him. The police told me that the woman was a hooker he had picked up just minutes before. No one knows why she was driving and where she is now. The owner, who the police have talked to on the phone, says he does have insurance (I have a strong feeling he is lying) and that he just can't find the paperwork. Until then, the cops have impounded his car until he can produce said documents. I have accepted that I will never see a penny.

Not me...My neck is much better but for some reason I am now knee deep in the flu. Massive chest congestion, fever, aches and to top it all off I spent all night with my head in the toilet. Nice. I went to the doctor today; it's going to end up costing me about $800 to get me back into shape with physical therapy and meds. That's my cost. My car is going to be AT LEAST $500 (the deductible) and they will most likely raise my rates.

I am so angry and frustrated and tired. It's probably mostly the flu but I still want to inflict some kind of damage on this person. I know I won't feel that way tomorrow but today, at this moment, that is how I feel.

Violated car, AGAIN

mmm, yummy...I want to murder that stupid whore.

But we will get to that in a moment. In the last 6 months my car has been run into THREE times. I am filled with a little bit of rage. This time, I was actually in the car.

It's two in the morning and Jules and I just left the dance club. We had stuffed ourselves with sushi and tempura then danced the night away. Sitting at the light to get onto the highway to go home, we were laughing at the creepy freak who had tried to dance with BAM!

A silver car just forgot to stop and slammed into the back of my baby, my beautiful car that never hurt anyone or anything. Never even hit the brakes... After checking if Jules was ok (we both had/have some icky whiplash but we are fine) I went to the driver of the silver car to see if she was ok. That was my big mistake. I should have punched her in the face. I should have taken her car keys and thrown them into traffic. I should have done something that wasn't "Oh my gosh, are you ok?!"

Her airbags had both gone off and the front of her car was crunched, not to mention her engine sounded like it was about to die. She and her passenger said they were fine. I went to the car in front of us, a taxi, to see if they were ok. We had hit them when the silver car hit us. They were ok too. That when Jules yelled for me.

The silver car was backing up. The man who was the passenger was now driving and the woman was sitting shotgun. Now I must believe the best in people, because I thought that he was moving back a bit to assess the damage of his car and mine. NOPE.

That asshole/coward/evil bitch took off.

I don't know how they made it 100 feet let alone down the road and away from the scene. That engine didn't sound great and I'm pretty sure they were both trashed. So here we are, in our party dresses, freezing our asses off, standing in the bits and pieces of what used to be my bumper.

I fumed. I screamed. I kicked the plastic pieces on the ground and swore and almost cried when I saw Jules was getting really upset. It was her first ever car accident. I gathered myself and went to sit next to her.

We cracked jokes and kept each other warm while the cops came.

Woo for cops!And THEN came the best part of my night. Standing next to my car, telling Jules that we would be laughing about this in a couple of weeks, a policeman came up carrying a license plate in his hand. At first I thought, "Great... my plate fell off the back of my car..." But to my great happiness, it was THEIR plate!!! They had hit me so hard their plate had fallen off!! I did an actually happy dance right there in front of the officer, which included some fist pumping. He laughed.

All and all, it was a great night. Besides that 10 minutes that we were hit, they drove off and the complete rage I felt took over my body, it was a wonderful evening. I got to sit inside a cop car to fill out my statement, which was really interesting since I had never been in one before. Jules and I chatted and laughed in the back of the cop car as he took us home. And a dozen people stopped and asked if we were ok, which was amazing and incredibly nice.

Now I just pray hope pray that those jerks have insurance... If not, it's at least $500 and a raise in my rates, even though logically none of that makes any sense to punish me for a drunk whore hitting my car, hurting my friend and giving me whiplash.

Send me good vibes people. My car and I need them.

Articles that could save your ass

• What To Do After A Car Accident

Quick! Ice! no wait... butter? Crap, just google it.

I burnt the living hell out of my hand.

Ok, so I'm being a bit dramatic. But burns hurt, even if they are small.

I was stupid and left the oven on after I was done using it and plum forgot all about it! Good golly gosh I am so much like my mother sometimes.

Turns out, if you leave the oven on for four hours, the outside gets just as hot as the inside. (or at least it does when you have a coco brown, 1960 Electric Living oven... it doesn't even have self cleaning! I digress.)

So a note from Auntie Pix, even if you never use it, get a damned first aid kit. After finally sticking my blistering flesh in cold running water, I realized how unprepared I was for things like this. I live alone and if I had a serious accident I'd be mopping up my wound with dirty kitchen towels...

Go to Amazon right now and get one for $40. Cause when your leaned up against the sink with tears in your eyes, your skin bubbling up, all alone, you are going to want something to ease the pain. Believe me.

Oh, and get a big sign to hang in the kitchen that says, "Turn off the oven. You may not be Martha Stewart but if you can avoid burning yourself or the house down, you get a gold star." I'll have the mock up for my new sign soon.

Dreaming of India

There are only a few more complicated places in the world.

Cast systems, the rise in technology and education and that some of the poorest people in the world are just steps from some of the most wealthy.

No, this bit was not brought on by Slumdog Millionaire. Well, sorta. (Damn good movie by the by. Go see it. Tell them your Auntie Pix sent you.) Last night I saw The Darjeeling Limited for the first time and I'm inspired to write it.

Candles at a Hindu festivalFirst, let me tell you about Darjeeling. I love Wes Anderson. He is very much an acquired taste, I feel, because of his unique styles and aloofness of characters. (the aloof always fades by the end) I love his movies. I love that everyone in the beginning is strange and alone. Unexplained things happen around them and they float around, searching. And there is always quirky things in every corner of the films. A character that never wears shoes. Or that the whole cast wears the same outfit for the whole movie, just different colors. I love those little things you notice that you whisper to your best friend in the movie.

Basically, you have three brothers who have been through a lot and seem to be so caught up in their own shit that they're missing the point of this amazing trip they're on. Then there is disaster and after having the metaphysical crap kicked out of them, the brothers find their path again.

GaneshaIndia is a place I know little about. My mother told me stories of her travels there, about how beautiful and brutal it was. About the time four men were following her to her hotel but she was more scared of the monkeys at the temple. About the beggar woman holding a baby that had a hole in it's stomach, screaming. She loved the temples and the food but came away so sad about the state of people's livings. But that was 20 years ago...

Instead of wonder and excitement, most my friends are fearful of a trip to India. Even though it's the world's largest democracy and the major religion being Hinduism, it's a scary place these days. Major terrorist attacks on westerners last year and attacks on Jews, Muslims, Christians and Indian civilians have left a seed of doubt in so many minds. (not to mention that, according to the state department, "rape is the fastest growing crime in India." What has happened to men that now they suddenly think it's ok? Or perhaps it's just being reported more...) So what am I to think? There are so many scary places in the world and it seems to be getting worse and worse, especially for Western woman. (who also happen to be 5' 10'' redheads who stick out like sore thumbs... except in Ireland.)

So then I remind myself of Spain. Years ago, visiting my cousin who was studying dance in Madrid, I got on a train to go see Toledo when our train caught fire. This was around the time that Islamic extremist bombed 4 commuter trains killing almost 200 people, the deadliest attack in recent European history. Everyone hurried off the train, the men helping the little old ladies down off the train (which, without a platform, was quite a leap). I sat in a field, looking at the engineering marvel as the men in their uniforms searched the train up and down. I asked a very handsome man from Madrid, "Aren't you scared of getting blown up?" He replied, "I take this train 3 times a week. I can't stop taking it or my business will suffer. It's up to G-d whether it is my time to go or not. I will not cease living because of a bomb that might be there."

Handsome and did I mention smart? Words to live by...and I will try do so.


*Update*
I had to share this out of pure curiosity. While perusing the state department website I found this:

"If a driver hits a pedestrian or a cow, the vehicle and its occupants are at risk of being attacked by passersby. Such attacks pose significant risk of injury or death to the vehicle's occupants or at least of incineration of the vehicle. It can thus be unsafe to remain at the scene of an accident of this nature, and drivers may instead wish to seek out the nearest police station."

Wait... why would people want me dead if my cab driver hit someone? If this happened in New York there would be burning cars all over the place! Can someone explain this to me?

Blackout

Yesterday, we became helpless, sad little babies.

I was at the office, mid-email, when all the power to the whole complex went out. We were lost! There were no phones, no computers, no faxes, people had to pee in pitch black (and the janitorial crew was not happy about that, let me tell you...) What the hell were we gonna do??? We were forced to *gasp* talk to each other. It was great. We played table top bowling and has wheely chair races. But by three I knew I could get some work done if I headed home, so off I went.

With all of our technology, we were helpless with electricity. We handled it pretty well in the end but history has showed up that not everyone can stay calm.

In the middle of July, 1977 New York City had a major, city wide black out. Unlike the black outs of 1965 and 2003, the people of NYC in 77 went ape shit and destroyed their neighborhoods, looted and set fire to anything that would catch.

Let me set the scene... It's hotter than hell, the economy is crap and the son of Sam was running around all willy nilly shooting young people. And it's New York so everyone is already a little crazy. (sorry Taylor but you know it's a little true.) The lights go out and people lose their shit...

Looting in the poorest neighborhoods was rampant, and with so much insanity and emergencies involving people, property took a back seat. Crown Heights suffered some of the most looting while Bushwick nearly burnt to the ground. Fifty new cars were stolen from a single dealership. Chains were tied around store front gates, then to cars and torn from the building to gain access to stores. Over four thousand people were arrested. Both airports were shut down, people evacuated from subways and tunnels. Knife wounds and fist fight injuries came in all night at local hospitals. After all was said and done and the numbers tallied, three hundred million dollars in damage was caused... don't forget, this is 1977 dollars. With inflation, that makes it roughly one BILLION, fifteen million dollars.
And all this cause by a loose nut at the Hudson river substation. That and some bad decisions.

Not that it was ALL bad... with stolen DJ equipment, young up and coming rappers were able to get started. It's also an urban legend that the birthrate went up 35% due to the blackout. When its dark, what else are you gonna do?

In 2003 there was another bigger blackout (almost the ENTIRE state of NY and up through Canada) but people held it together. There were of course some instances of stupid jerks who wanted to start some trouble but it was nothing like 1977. Bars stayed open so commuters and locals could enjoy the night. Restaurants took their perishable/fresh everything, cooked it and just gave it away since it was going to spoil anyway. The Indigo Girls played in The Park with generators and food cooked with propane. In all, it was a pretty happy time.

Our little blackout was nothing compared to those but it's good to know that if were are capable of riots and looting, we are also capable of good food and parties.

Welcome back to the light.

ok, I've been a huge slacker.

Ever since this whole thing with the chief, I've been distracted. But now I'm back and (hopefully) ready to get back to writing.

I'm back to the business of being excited about life.

Today, I'm excited about a warehouse in Los Angeles. A friend calls me saying that he thought that I had mentioned to him a very young designer (or puppet figurehead, whomever you choose to believe) Kira Plastinina. She is a teenage Russian girl who happens to have over 40 shops all over the world and has finally come to LA. She's huge onOMG, like, I'm bankrupt! the scene, hanging with Paris (gag, choke) and the lot...But there must be some problems, cause someone isn't paying their bills... A storage facility will be selling off a tons of her and other designers clothing because someone wasn't paying their storage fees and now the warehouse company legal owns all the property within the overdue facilities.

Too bad, so sad. I guess I must reap the benefits! I've sent him a shopping list and wired him some cash and I will be getting some sweet cotoure in no time!

This recession sucks, if I may be so eloquent. Not that I really care that Kira's stores are going out, because I know she'll be okay with her trust fund and allowance and such. I do care about people who are really in need. People on the verge of losing their homes or skipping lunch to be able to afford dinner.

I know, I go from "Yay, I'm getting new clothes" to "Those sad poor people!". So I give you this for your pipe, so that you might smoke it. For every piece of clothing I get from California, I'm giving away 3 other pieces. I've been meaning to do some spring cleaning and I know there are those who could use them more than me. I mostly think of myself as a child, searching the racks at the good will, hoping for that amazing find, that one cool dress or shirt that would give me the confidence to get on that bus and show up for my first day of 5th grade(or 8th grade... or 12th). I know there is a little chic out there looking right now and I'm giving her my crochet caps and small (for me) skirts and tops, braided and metallic belts, skirts, shoes and anything else I can find that I haven't worn.

There is really nothing better than a good find at the local good will shop or Arch or whichever. I just wish I could be there to dig through and find treasures in the LA warehouse... Oh well.

Pictures of happy new dresses to come!

Ok, it's mean, but I laughed a little

• Teen Russian Designer Kira Plastinina Closes Stores

Don't forget "maddening"...

Heart breaking, expensive and frustrating are the words I must use.

I will be shipping the first of a dozen boxes to The Chief today.

He gave me a list of his things, including things that belonged to us. It's just money but it hurts that he requests them like they had no meaning to our relationship.

He sent me a list and wants to know what's in all the boxes and when he will be getting them. I try to be calm and polite but there is only so much a girl can take.

I so badly want this over with. I want to ship it all out yesterday. I think perhaps I will leave early and take them all to the post office today. I can't have the boxes sitting there looking at me anymore.


I'm sorry for this post; it's boring and selfish but I had to get it off my chest. Thanks.