So I asked, What Would Bea Arthur Do?

Last week, quite whim-ish-ly of me, I decided that I am mightier than the economy and I was going to prove it.  So I packed up my bathing suits and flew to Arizona to visit some friends. Where I bought some more bathing suits. AND business suits.  And some gorgeous turquoise heels.  Basically I have done what I do best - shop and loaf. 

I was having a great time shopping, pooling and eating - and I figured, why stop there? So off we went to Mexico to get some Swine Flu.  We spent an afternoon eating fish tacos, getting bombarded by vendors, and forced to witness middle-aged Americans as they blew our ears off with unbearably loud Eminem as they cruised around in their 4-wheeler with hydraulics.  I hope to be just like them in 30 years - they were so classy and cool. 

Next up - the beach!  We drove down the cement sand until we found the right place, put up the tent, and sat on the sand as we watched the tide roll out. 

Five minutes and 14 vendors later . . .

Rich:  What if we just drove back to Phoenix tonight?

Us:  Sounds good.

Back to the USA! It felt so good - we were done with Mexico.  Unfortunately, some fugitive men were thinking the same thing when we saw the border patrol handcuff them.  Too bad!

Ever since Earth Day I have had an insatiable desire to consume, consume, consume. And  I feel like I haven't quite consumed enough petrol yet, so I'm going to fly to Austin on Wednesday before I go back to California. Can't wait for more department stores and restaurants to ravage! I really think this mini-break has shown me what I'm made of. 

RIP, dear Bea. In honor of you, Laquina and I are doing a Golden Girls marathon tonight. 

Oh to be the youngest

Meet Paige.



Paige is almost 10, or is it 17? I can't remember.

She's a pretty little thing, isn't she? Like a young Regina George, and not just in looks. Know that whatever Paige wants, Paige GETS. Sometimes it's through begging and pleading and making deals (and threats), but usually it is through her true medium: Manipulation. She is as skilled in this art as Aubrey O'Day is in being a skank. A true master. Though my brothers and I are immune to such forces, my mother, apparently, is not. Perhaps it's because Paige is the baby, or maybe my mom is done fighting battles after 6 kids. Who knows. The fact of the matter is that the docile, sweet, obedient children ended with #5.

Now I know you might be horrified that I say such things about my own blood. Dudes, chill. She's 10 and doesn't read blogs. Besides, she my sister and she knows I love her. Usually. When I haven't run out of Diet Coke and patience.

Let me direct you to the following incident that took place just a few days ago as my family was vacationing in Pismo. We like this restaurant, The Splash:


We like their toasted bread bowls, but the clam chowder isn't THAT great. Paige, however, decreed that it indeed WAS that great, and while the rest of us wanted to eat at Brad's, she demanded that we wait in this line instead:

On a very cold, blustery afternoon mind you. Despite the fact that there was a near mutiny on her hands, my mother acquiesced. Such an enabler. (Just kidding mom). Why, I kept asking myself, am I standing out here waiting with the freaky art when I could be ordering a better bread bowl or tri-tip sandwich right next door? Because I'm lazy, that's why.

So I looked at this for a while and couldn't decide between the following:




a) Clam-Man is horrified at the immodesty of Lesbian Laura/ Feminine Fred / Unisex Pat. For the sake of propriety let's go with Unisex Pat.

b) Clam-Man is horrified that Uni.P here is immensely enjoying eating his cousin Gill, who was unfortunately caught by the dreaded fisherman's nets just when he thought he was safe.

c) Clam-Man is afraid that Unisex Pat is in fact a woman and is about to go into labor, and being a clam he can't do much but look horrified, especially because she seems to be bizarrely smug about it.


Obviously I came to no real conclusion, other than wondering why we humans need to anthropomorphize everything.

THEN, after our very clammy chowder had been devoured, we went back to the pool of the hotel which we had already checked out of hours earlier, so Paige could swim. And, thanks to that great decision, we got stuck in horrible Santa Barbara traffic.

So if you ever meet Paige in person, JUST SAY NO.

The Day

Dear Lovely Self,

Congratulations on getting halfway between twenty and thirty! Can we consider it an accomplishment? The question now becomes, how old do we claim to be? When does lying about age become commonplace?

Anyway. I just wanted to tell you that 25 is the new 15 and you really are looking younger, thanks to that night eye cream probably. And less laying-out.

So enjoy your "Day of Decrees" and remember: We are going to ROCK the mid-twenties.

XOXO,
Me

Hollywood, Ho!

Ah, the school play. It's that time of year - FINALLY. Were you ever in one? I wasn't, and let me tell you, I feel gypped. My ex-roommates always had stories about elementary school play drama, and I listened with envy. To my everlasting satisfaction though I got to live vicariously through my sister's production, themed "California Dreamin.'" I won't post all the pictures, because who really cares. But I do feel the need to direct your attention to the following:

(NOTE: I have not yet made a foray into photography, so please excuse the shotty camera work)



I know it's blurry, but check out the girl who is PREGNANT carting a stroller with a baby dragging along BY THE NECK in the back. Somehow I found this fitting, considering the theme. I believe this number was taking place in Santa Monica, hence the "Will Sing for Food" sign and assorted freaks and geeks costumes prancing about. And I'm pretty sure I've seen some prego kids on 3rd Street, so good job portraying reality School Play.

Also for your bemusement:



Cats.

??

Your guess is as good as mine.