friends of convenience

Well let me preface this with I am back in Los Angeles. In Barcelona I avoided Starbucks at all costs, it is basically the American embassy of the city. And here I find myself having lunch in Culver City with a friend and she has no Internet at home and needed to do a sexual harassment online training course for work. So, here we are at Starbucks. First, I take issue with lunch costing almost 20 dollars these days in LA, with tip included, something I have gotten un-used to in Spain, it not being the culture. Second, I know Starbucks has (now let me pick the perfect word here… poor, bad, horrible, shitty, unfortunate coffee) sub par quality coffee considering they are a coffee shop, not a restaurant with fabulous food but not the best coffee, which is annoying but not ridiculous. I’ve gotten spoiled with delicious Spanish coffee even at the old man bars on the corner, nothing fancy just a good roast, hot when you order it not served in a paper cup, small, powerful and rich. So, I thought an espresso would be a safe bet here at Starbucks. I ordered it “for here”… what a concept. They guy comes back with my drink in a bowl made for a double latte like a good 16oz mug. And there at the bottom is my single shot of espresso. Like the sad left overs of a larger American sized coffee. The cold mug turned my sad shot into a luke warm mess. (This is besides the fact that the espresso just was not tasty. So I get it iced, he fills the bowl up to the brim with ice,

Maybe all this is silly and trivial

In fact it most definitely is, but I just find it absurd that they have become the most recognized coffee mark in the entire world and their coffee sucks. Yet it’s full in here and we had to wait for a table.

It’s just like people there are those people who are just not good friends, or just overall low quality, yet they dress up, are in the right clubs, offer to let you use their wifi and are always around so they are convenient friends and you hang out with them, even though you don’t really like them.

Brilliant marketing but it scares me because what if in our lives we settle for convenient friends, or just add enough sugar to our coffee so you cant even taste what it really is like. How do we really know what we are getting ourselves into?

Everything I'm stoked I did in spain.com and that which remains on my list.

My new website idea. Everyone does crazy ass shit in Spain, I mean this is the home of San Fermines, the running of the bulls where people dress up and volunteer to be chased by bulls down a confined corridor that has a dead curve and people get trampled and then look forward to it again the next year. Shit. When I got sick this year and had to give up my bus ticket to Pamplona, I was bummed, I was ready for the calimoxo madness. Ps calimoxo is a typical Spanish drink, mostly drank by young people which is a mix of cheap red wine and coca cola. Aka sugar. Kind of like cherry coke with a kick… the kick is in the morning when you kick your self in the ass for your raging hangover from all the sugar. And generally speaking you can only drink it on the street or corner.

1. Ride on the back of a motorcycle, like a real one, with the bartender from Nasty Mondays.
2. Get a Spanish boyfriend
3. Go on vacation with said boyfriend
4. Climb a giant light post by Canaletas at the top of La Rambla after Barca won champions league, this included wearing a mini black dress and yelling in Catalan all night…. Ps I don’t speak Catalan
5. Play Capoeira on the walkway leading up to Arc de Triomf
6. Ride bikes all over the city
7. 2 six hour bike rides, first down to El Prat with a recently unemployed stranger and second up to Costa Brava with jace, my homeboy who is way hardcore in outdoor activities.
8. Disco bowling in Costa Brava on a Saturday night
9. bleaching my precious brown locks blonde as sunshine and dressing up as Pamela Anderson for Carnival then chasing Andre Aggasi and Rafa Nadal down the street in a red Speedo and Uggs in the middle of European winter outside one of the only bars in Granollers (a small city just north of BCN) trying to save them, because I was Pam in her Baywatch days.
10. Meeting Theirry Henry at the movies (Yes I was that girl.... I have a picture)
11. getting kicked out of OttoZutz…. Who doesn’t get kicked out of Ottozutz?… and subsequentially permanently banned (when I was blond, perhaps they wont recognize me as a brunette
12. Dominate karaoke at George Payne Irish Pub every Sunday including a Freddy Mercury performance of “Under Pressure” where I climbed the stairs took the cordless microphone and sang with one leg over the railing in a back bend
13. Win a date with a Spanish guy on a new international dating show called Loose Screws BCN.
14. Discover the one and only frozen yogurt place in the city.
15. Drink hella leche merengada during the summer
16. Meet the only Catalans in Granada
17. Get invited by Steve Aoki and the bloody beetroots to their show at Apolo and pre-game backstage with them and then onstage during their show… which has inspired me to not only buy acid washed jeans like Steve Aoki's but also like electro music. It was my first and only electro concert and I didn’t know how to dance to that type of music so I went with your basic Tae-bo moves like the punch it out and spastic up and down. Trust me, it worked.
18. 2 calcotadas (calcots are a vegetable that is a hybrid of a leek and an onion that you cook on the bbq, it is this huge bbq party and the sauce you dip them in is actually the best part.
19. Drink wine out of a porron without spilling all over my face (it’s a Spanish jar with a pointed tip to pour from and you pour from a long distance and it streams into your mouth, the closets mental image I can give unfortunately is like a pee stream.
20. Take a pool raft out into the ocean to do a buoy swim with Mallory and race back for unspoken fear of sharks
21. Get paid to be at both the Formula 1 and Moto Grand Prix in the Montmelo Circuit right outside Barcelona working for the Renault Alonso and then Yamaha Rossi teams (when Valentino Rossi won that race in the last seconds of the race and went on to win the title of World Champion for his winning season bt-dub)
22. Watched more sunrises than sunsets this year.


My only two unaccomplished goals were getting to ride or party on someone's boat (which I was invited so I got close), and riding on the back of a police motorcycle but not being in trouble with the law as the reason for being on it... a lofty goal.


WHAT RANDOMLY SATISFYING ADVENTURES HAVE YOU ALL DONE?... spare no details

BIGGEST pet peeve in the world.... Wait for it.... People who are flaky

I have been blessed with an amazing family who I love so much. Yet somehow, we all suffer the same fate, flaky people in our lives.

I hate flakiness more than people's feet on my pillow (washable), touching the metro hand rails (disinfectable), people who cough or sneeze into their hands and then try to shake my hand or touch me in some way (obviously it has come to my knowledge that I am borderline germaphobe)...

The point is it is a constant battle with friends, best friends, boyfriends...

Who taught people it was ok to say you will be somewhere or do something and either just not do it, or let you know when they are already supposed to be there.... that they are not coming?

For example, in my spanish class our teacher was explaining that when making plans, using the future tense, means low probabilility of something happening. Let me highlight this example. We will see each other there at 8pm (Nos veremos alli a las 8). Sounds pretty solid as a plan, no? NOPE, use of the verb "to see" in the future means, maybe I will be there. If they say however, I see you at 4 (te veo a las 4) in present tense, which sounds really weird and is improper as far as English goes, it means they will most likely be there.

All I am saying in a lot of words is, just say I am not sure if I will be there, or I will try but it is not guaranteed, or you are not my top priority in the moment so whatever works best for me at the time.....

let's get real.... then I won't have my hopes up and feel let down. Then I can adjust my expectations.

So I ask that of... well everyone I know.

Let us all show our friends and family or whomever your loved ones are, that we respect them and that our word is worth something.

ballers, shot callers

Passeig de Gracia.

A man races past me on his bike, in a beautifully tailored navy suit. Being a business man isn't all business. When he past me I saw he had

PEGS! off his back wheel.

life lesson, can't take yourself too seriously... and lesson number two, ride bikes around the city. They don't polute, you get exercise, and you can avoid all traffic. (on the 405 in LA at 6pm I could probably rollerblade between the westside and the valley faster than a car could go.)

Tday part deuce

The Catalans already have Bon Nadal, Christmas decorations up by mid-november but I am still thinking about Thanksgiving.

In my high school French class I used to make a calendar at the beginning of every school year to mark down the days to thanksgiving and each day in french class I would tick away a day. Fat kid at heart much?

Anyway, holiday joy brings holiday stress, especially in los angeles. I'm not talking about family, my family rocks, I love holidays with them, I'm talking about gluttony. So every year on thanksgiving I go on a run or a swim in the morning. As if an hour work out makes up for eating a weeks worth of food in one night,

or does it?

So I went on my run this morning, but it's very different running around Barcelona. Living in Europe is such a stereotype of living in Europe sometimes. I just you know, pass by Sagrada Familia, the most famous Gaudi church on my way down the street, see little kids dressed up (no idea why, but I was loving it and in total approval) as a princess and Peter Pan playing over a steam drain in the street (no idea what those are actually called, the ones that you walk over and they blow up warm air) and they were loving the Marylin Monroe dress flying up effect, there are a bazillion old people, cute couples and best friends dressed to the 9s for Saturday stroll, bright red lipstick on, pearls, or with their farmers market rolly carts. There are stores that sell only candles or only light bulbs or only statuettes or only pajamas... see everything is specialty, the super market concept that one place has everything is not nearly as appetizing to them.

Like who really makes a living off a light bulbs only store? (This was a recent topic of conversation... stimulating really)

I live for all this, the super European, life on the street strolling, passing monuments, living in history kind of life. So Although I miss my American Thanksgiving tradition of Aunt Maita's stuffing and my deal with my sister not to eat pumpkin pie for the two months before Thanksgiving, what this holiday has come to mean (obviously its origins are not so beautiful or glorious... rather hideously hateful, and bloody... and stemming from the Spanish monarchy)... so what this holiday now has come to mean is being thankful. Taking time to celebrate with loved ones.

So cheers and happy Thanksgiving from Barcelona, Spain to my friends and family who are all over the world right now. I love you all.

Thanksgiving in Barcelona

I spend all year trying not to hang out with too many Americans, not that I don't love my people, but it makes it hard to speak Spanish if I am with English speakers all the time.

And then comes Thanksgiving. My all time favorite holiday. (Maybe a tie with Halloween and 4th of July) but, there is nothing like the family getting together and scarfing down as fast as possible so you can eat the maximum possible stuffing, yams, turkey cranberry sauce, mashed pototoes, maybe some salad so my mom is happy... all before the 20 minutes it takes for your stomach to tell your mouth to STOP cause your beyond full and about to explode and might have to wait a while before you can eat seconds.

That's when I say, "thank god for the dessert stomach"

My family, my older sister actually, made an interesting discovery as a child. We, humans, actually are more similar to cows than we thought. We too have two stomachs... the regular one, that we spend our whole loves hearing about, and the Dessert Stomach. This is a smaller, yet separate vacuous space that is reserved for sweets and desserts after a large meal when you feel there may be no hope left to eat more.

There we have reserved space. It somehow never gets filled from a regular meal. As my sister always says,

"There is always room for dessert"

And now you know. The Thanksgiving secret has been passed.

What if you're not in love yet?

I was told by my friend's mom that if you're not in love with your boyfriend, he's not your boyfriend, he's your friend.

I disagree, you have to start somewhere, right?

(This is going to be a lot of questions, they are not rhetorical, anyone feel free to comment and answer them.)

Is it worth being in a relationship you see as dead end for one reason or another if in the moment it fulfills something in your life?

What happened to my personal favorite metaphor as dating being like wine tasting in Napa or Santa Barbara.... you can't know if it's your favorite, even if you like it, if you haven't tried the other options. But at what point do you decide you don't need to try more options that there might always be someone else, or another flavor you come across, that you like, but right now, you have one in your hand for sure that works, that you like.

Were relationships this complicated in the 50s, when Ricky and Lucy slept in separate twin beds as tv husband and wife?

So is he a boyfriend or a friend...