Rural Giggles 

Family vacations are already bizarre, but when the main activity on the itinerary is drinking, it is hard to feel like you’re not on an episode of a reality show.


Carms played Kris, and summoned the family to Santa Barbara Wine country for weekend filled of charcuterie and chardonnay.


My only request was to not visit that broken town of Solvang.

I can’t recount my terror there, but every time someone in the town of Santa Ynez mentioned it in casual conversation, a subtle flinch occurred.


We arrived to the house, and immediately I felt like LiLo in the parent trap when she arrives at the home of her long last father’s house in Napa.


Instead of being greeted by Dennis Quaid and an eager golden retriever, I walked into the kitchen to find my slightly tipsy parents and Aunt two bottles deep in Sauv Blanc and rosé.


The house was incredible.


There was a vineyard (casual), a hot tub, and an ATV.

Unfortunately, the ATV was off limits, but probably for the best, as Giggles wining and driving on rough terrain would be no bueno!



Santa Ynez is only two hours from Los Angeles, but I definitely got my dose of rural.

Rural Giggles

After the second bottle of wine was uncorked, the family relaxed on the patio, while enjoying cheese and the sunset.


All was calm, until a flurry of yellow jackets attacked our picturesque moment, causing shattered wine glasses and nearly stumbling into the pool.


Rural Giggles 

Jordan nearly got into a car accident when I saw a “real” pumpkin patch on our drive up,


Rural Giggles

On the way to  the vineyards in the Sprinter  (pre-wine), I pointed out every horse, cow, and squirrel. There was definite judgement from our driver, Tomás.


No one cried, and everyone took Advil on Sunday.

Overall, a successful family vacation.




I don’t usually live this tropical of a life.


For the past five months, island adventures and tropical themed parties have been the setting for my summer.

After a series of events, we booked a trip to Maui.


Day One

Jordan likes to relax on the beach with a Mai Tai in hand, while I like to pretend I’m Dora the Explorer/Lara Croft.


After feeling restless in the sand for an hour, I asked him to make the 40-minute trek for banana bread at a little shack called, Julia’s.


We drove on the winding road, passing the postcard scenery at every turn.


Forget The Road to Hana, I created my own adventurous trail.


The Road to Julia’s.


It wasn’t until the double highway turned into a one-way dirt road, where the drive became less romantic, and more nerve-racking.


The things I do for food.

Was the bread worth Jordan having a panic attack on the highway?

Not really, but watching the experience of a trailer pass us on the above road was priceless.


Day Two

When I wasn’t on a quest for food, another activity I enjoyed was walking down to the beach to watch the sunrise (who am I).



We did enjoy the beach eventually, but then Kendall ruined it.


She spilled my drink, broke my Giggles bag, and weighed far too much to be carted around.


Day Three:

We decided to take a snorkel trip to Molokini, and a few other popular spots on a boat titled “Maui Magic.”

The Maui Magic made me have a deep appreciation for our founding fathers who floated over on the Mayflower.

No cookies tossed, but definitely silence, despair, and dark stares into the deep.

I was rejuvenated after I met a sea turtle, and I swear the turtle looked into my soul and said, “I’m saving you, Lisa.”


Day Four:

My two favorite Disneyland rides came to life (Jungle Cruise & Indiana Jones) on the Road to Hana.


Waterfalls, vines, and LUSH greenery with every stop.



We discovered the Lost Ark in Hana:

The Travaasa Hotel.

What a gem, and what a cheeseburger.

I did feel guilty after I asked what was the best local item on the menu, and this is what our waitress was referring to…


Day Five:

After Kendall spilled my drink, we learned our lesson, and brought our reusable cups from the last time we were at the Sheraton.


Desperate for a refill and a deal, we thought,

“What could they have possibly changed since May? The color of the tops?”

They changed the tops.


They still gave us the refill and the deal, and we enjoyed our last day at the beach.


So much so, we went into Lahaina, and I purchased four different items with the slogan,

“Catnapple” on them.


I thought my purchase was funny at the time, my bank account the next AM…not so much.

Mahalo, Maui, and Catnapple to all.




The Last Luau

Summer ‘16 and I wake up with a swollen eye.

Aw, hell.


The aftermath of the luau.

When describing the event-

“My girlfriend throws a luau at her parents house every year, and every year, they say no, and she just says ‘too bad, I’ve already sent out invitations’”.


This is partially true, as my parents were traumatized by the first luau I had the summer after freshman year of college…

AKA when I tried to recreate Fiji Islander in my backyard.

Summer ’09 #oldaf


It wasn’t as gritty as that, but there were people tumbling down the stairs, throwing pizza in the pool, and having my parents question sending me to the desert.

I’m being dramatic, but each year, Carms and Hone think the luau is going to be a frat party in their backyard.

This year was tame.

There was a rosé bar, blondies, and a unicorn on Rossmore.


Bailey was low key, and instead of barking at guests, was distracted by eating all of bowls of food set out.

The only dramatic moment was watching a rescue take place at the end of the party.


Reminiscing and re-enacting our days in the Hamptons, Jen and I jumped on the pool animals as the party was dwindling down.

Jen somehow broke the neck of the pink flamingo and it rapidly started to deflate, causing Jen to sink in her clothes.


The rescue, caught on film

Swiftly, Nick Parazino pulled Jen off of the flamingo, and rescued her from wet cat status.

One of many stars of the luau.


The undercover stars of the party were my boyfriend, Jordan, who refused to engage in driving all around Los Angeles to fuel my need for impulse buying and instant gratification, and instead ordered all the luau materials, like a normal person, the week before.

He also carried in all the ice.


And special thanks to Blair Seward, who is the creative genius behind the Luau Snapchat filter.

Mahalo Jordan and Blair,

and Aloha Rossmore!

“Hello, it’s me.

I walked out of the Adele concert with Carms frustrated and confused to why she did not play my favorite song of all time (Hometown Glory).


As we drove away from the Staples parking lot, I scrolled through videos of the miracle I had witnessed in DTLA, and there I found,

“Hometown Glory.”


I was too excited for the first three songs, to even take in what was happening.

There are actually no words to describe the Adele concert.

Or memories apparently, since I literally stood there so overwhelmed with my mom, clutching my pinot noir, staring at what was happening with awe.


It was the best concert I’ve ever been to.

The Spice Girl reunion tour was epic and nostalgic…

But this was the definition of emotions.
Growing up, I went to every Britney Spears concert, and remember observing that no one danced when she performed.


Everyone just stood still to Britney’s upbeat songs watching her.

At Adele, people sang, but really, everyone just listened.

No one moved to get up and get a glass of wine, afraid they would miss one of her eighteen songs.


Carms was too busy on her Instagram to chat with me before the concert.

Everyone (this is my opinion) stood and remembered, to how they felt whenever they listened to the song she sang.

So sui, right?

If you have the chance, find that ticket, and go.


The shirt was overpriced, the concert was priceless

You will not regret it, but try to Bear Down, get a grip, and try to not sob during the first three songs.



Last Minute Aloha

It started with a call, which turned into a flight.


Pre #lastminutealoha lyfe, my MDW plans consisted of me consuming countless margs at the JC, with my $80 “Yes Way Rosé” towel, which I purchased by accident at the Summer Water event I attended last Saturday.


Yes, I bought another overpriced towel, and yes I am feeling remorse.



Also on my MDW list, was nibbling on avocado toast at the Groundwork$ on Montana Ave.

Montana turned into Maui in 48 hours.


What is lyfe?

As we hustled from LAX to Kahului, disaster occurred.

No, it was not the “non-credible” bomb threat, which did leave us stranded the tarmac for 45 minutes…

It was my breakfast, shattering on the tile floor of the terminal.


Parfait, party of none.

Mahalo, LAX.

What was ironic about our trip, is that we had a faux tiki experience at Duke’s in Malibu last weekend.


The Mai Tais were much better on the island, than they were off of PCH.

We arrived to humidity, which was my heaven after the below 60 winter we had in Los Angeles.


Hawaii is not like Cabo.

Slower pace, and much more relaxed.


Perhaps it was because we subbed tequila for rum,

but I was literally low key Lahaina child by day two.


According to Carms, because my trip was so last minute, I “didn’t have time to be neurotic beforehand,” so I set simple goals without reading a guide book.

As you can see, most of my goals reflect my lifestyle choice of overeating, which I did often on this trip.

The food and fish were so fresh, that I didn’t even gasp when a tuna glared at me as it was placed before me on the sushi bar.


JK, except that I did.


We went to so many eclectic restaurants and cafes.


Java Jazz, Miso Phat, and Leilani’s were wonderful, and each one had its own signature flare that made it a great and memorable experience.



My favorite place was Merriman’s.


Mai Tai. To. Die.

Forget chu Nobu!

We ate, we snorkled, and we also got sunburned.


Jordan was a lobster by day four.


I would like to think it was the Hawaiian sun gods, praising J and me, for jumping off Black Rock, instead of what probably happened with our Mai Tai paralyzing us from responsibility.


Mahalo,  Glenn and Sheila for making my first Maui trip one that I will never forget!



May Madness

It has begun.



May Madness:

The string of events where I celebrate the date of birth of literally every single person I know between May and mid-June.


The pre-game to May Madness started in April with my brother, then OPENFOLD, followed by HBD Lausen (never forget the hand in Summer ’15).

IMG_5915Between the birthday events, and my weekly trips to Paper $ource, I try to relax and eat unhealthy meals in my spare time.IMG_5916

My boyfriend recently made a comment, or really, shared his concern on my increased bread consumption.





He just doesn’t understand the stress of #maymadness




This is a corgi named Taffy.

Today, I am calm, as we are driving down to the desert. 

IMG_5852 BRB. 



Coachella 2016

The themes of my trip:

Ginger lemonades, a stop at the medic tent, and 38.5 miles.


Before you gasp with the medic tent comment, I’ll preface my Coachella cameo as procrastination, or really denial.

Besides having a physical wristband which sat on my nightstand for a month, I had no shelter, no festival gear, and no distinct urge to venture to the desert.

Completely 100% unprepared.

Day 1: The Grounds

After scrolling Revolve, ShopBop, and a number of other sites that are outside of my usual price range for clothing, I finally received all of my outfits for Coachella.

#twodayshipping #insufficientfunds

We hopped in the car (the polar bear) and headed to La Quinta.


We woke up in a desert oasis called The Legacy Villas which was the most relaxing environment I’ve stayed in for the festival.

The Villas were also set up like a college campus.


The pool resembled a Vegas day club.

By 5pm we made it to the Empire Polo Fields and bopped to The Rose Garden.

I enjoyed this space for a few reasons:

The ginger lemonade, calm atmosphere, and people watching.


Sweet jesus, what a scene.


As soon as the sun went down, the desert transformed.

Wait, was I at EDC?

Every tent we passed was lasers. Bass. Jumping.


The EDM situation actually worked in my favor, as I remained pretty low key during all of the shows.

What was not low key, were my blisters…

Day 2: The Adaptation

Day one, everyone is stressed AF, but by the day two, an ease came over me.


My shirt arrived, there wasn’t a dust storm, and I had three ginger lemonades.


That is until RL Grime.


RL Grime was the last stop of the night in the Sahara tent.

During the first song, two girls collapsed, and one girl threw up on my arm.


So vile, but luckily some desert angel had Wet Wipes and materials to sanitize.

Day 3: Hospitalized


My feet were so blistered by the last day, I needed to stop and get bandaids from the medic tent.


After glancing at my blisters, the EMT sat me down to wrap my ankles.

Surrounding me literally looked like every parents worst nightmare.

Young kids, throwing up into vomit bags, girls crying uncontrollably into their cell phones, and incoherent teenagers barely able to speak.

This was at 5pm….


The EMT pointed out that this was calm for the medic tent, and that it becomes a disaster in the evening.

After observing the chaos, I needed a ginger lemonade.


As we sat with our drinks and Superba sandwiches, we noticed how everyone was too cool to enjoy the music in the Sahara tent.

We sat and bopped to the beat with our sandwiches, which was just so appalling to the VIP crowd.


The night consisted of a surprise appearance from the voice of my middle school dances: Sean Paul.

Even though Ri Ri was right next to us, Sean Paul was by far my favorite surprise of the night.



Day 4: The Exodus



We were in no rush to leave the desert, and stopped at The Parker for lunch. Too many hipsters, and too long of a line for coffee.

I’ll consider attending next year, that is if Sean Paul is a headliner.



Disneyland Survival Guide

Wake Up Early

We woke up at 6:45am to get ready for the grueling 40 minute drive to Anaheim.

However, we did not leave my apartment complex until 8:45am since I left my house keys, ID, and garage clicker in my apartment.IMG_5447

You do not want the look of disappointment/disbelief I received at such an early hour.

Wear Comfortable Shoes

Between California Adventure and Disneyland we managed to walk 8 miles.



Don’t be distracted by the Disney staples of churros, bread bowls and the alluring smell of popcorn.

Follow this guide, for foodie finds in the kitschiest of places.


Water is life.

Dasani at Disney, duh.

At the end of the day, and after 8 miles of walking, I nearly dove into murky waters at World Of Color because I was so thirsty.



Calories are not a concern.


This goes for all food and drinks in California Adventure.

Besides Space Mountain, visiting the Cove Bar was our favorite ride of the trip.

We enjoyed the lobster nachos as a reward for our eight-mile journey.


Lobster nachos from The Cove Bar at Disneyland’s California Adventure

This was by far my favorite Disney meal I’ve had as of yet.

The main reason we stopped at The Cove Bar was for their “secret” off the menu drinks.

Jordan decided to order two out of the five from the “secret” menu.

All consisted of 151, and were some version of a long island iced tea.


Goodnight America.

After Jordan ordered drink number three titled “The Zombie” the waitress looked at me with such hesitation, I couldn’t help but giggle, yet panic at the idea of going on the roller coaster and having The Zombie appear on the upside down loop.


The Zombie

Luckily The Zombie stayed at the Cove Bar, and we bopped around to my worst nightmare-Tower of Terror.

Keep a Budget

One bottle of wine, and the definition of dehydration later, I was so cold and tired, I visited three gift stores to find a “cute” sweatshirt.

None were purchased. #blessed


Reward yourself with an obnoxious breakfast for dealing with lines, pre-teens, and surviving The Zombie.





Carbs and a Corgi

My weekend in two words.


I could describe Saturday in great expletive detail after waiting in line at The Bungalow for two and a half hours, but will choose to focus on the positive aspects of my two days off.


The weekend was a shuffle, that my tater tot legs could not keep up with.

After a transformation at CM with my fave Bre, I was ready to whip my newly blonde hair around for the weekend festivities.


Carms referred to my hair as Ombre… It was time for a change.


Boozy brunch began with pancakes and mimosas with a side of snap.

Snap attack that is.


We nibbled on some SusieCakes and hopped to the Bung for a wrap around line.


“It will go quick,” we said.


We might as well have checked into the Fairmont since we were essentially waiting all the way back by the lobby.

But no, the line did not go quick.


After waiting in a mosh pit that was worse than the one I experienced at a Foo Fighters concert (TBT 2007), I started threatening people with really ridiculous statements.


 I needed to get a grip.

The margs subdued me, but what truly calmed me was the presence of seeing my twin on Sunday.



We were soul mates from day one.

We have similar features-Long torsos, and ridiculously short arms and legs that make it comical to see either of us run.


After being blessed by G, I stopped at Chateau for the Coco event, and was harassed by the waiters for only ordering one glass of prosecco with my friend Mallory.



Yes, I am only having one glass for now , but will indulge later this evening for The Oscars with Leo’s victory.


The prosecco was never popped, but every item you could heat in an oven from Trader Joe’s was.


The carbs will be decreased starting this week for Coachella.

I will miss you pigs and a blanket.




Valentine’s Day:

A Hallmark holiday for some, but for others, this date is defined as the female Super Bowl.

V-day, can also equal D-day.


We all have dreams of this day.

Mine, was to go wine tasting.


It became a reality, when my boyfriend told me he booked the hotel I kept bringing up as “up and coming” in Santa Ynez.


I almost made a cheesy joke referencing that I heard about our hotel through the grapevine, but the cheesiness will stay in Solvang.

Staying in the town of Solvang was like being stuck on the Pinocchio ride at Disneyland, and not being able to get off.


The hotel and room were fantastic, but the town…

Why didn’t anyone tell me this?


The morning  started off pleasant with flowers, Alfred coffee, and scenic views as we drove through Ventura and Santa Barbara.


After we drove up a winding road, we entered green pastures, and a picturesque nature setting.

Then we entered the town of Solvang.

Cue, “It’s a Small World” music.


It was Disneyland, but not an updated Disneyland.

A Disneyland frozen in the 80’s that remained untouched.


“Should we get drunk today?” my boyfriend asked as we enjoyed pork sandwiches.


 I think we know what my answer was…

We found an UBER and visited the first winery, Sunstone.


Loved it.

Spanish/Italian style architecture, with a beautiful grass field overlooking a vineyard.

Oh, and there was wine.

Rosé  was necessary, after the first tasting with the 80 degree weather we were #blessed with.


Do I blame the rosé, UBER, or myself for the series of events which unfolded?


My only job for the weekend was to research transportation.

I was told UBER existed.

It probably does on a normal weekend, but on V-day/D-day it did not.


We weren’t necessarily stranded at the vineyard because there was wine, which may or may not have been a good thing since we started to indulge  in a few more glasses as we waited for a cab.

The cab arrived, and there was Christian Grey sitting in the front seat.

Who freaked out?


JK, it was a grey poodle named Christian who served as the co-pilot for our cab driver.

Vineyard dos, (yes Spanish to show my state), was incredible.


We hopped on an ATV with hounds in the back, chard in a glass, and drove around the hills of Pence Ranch.


The wine was fabulous, so much so, Jordan bought 18 bottles.



Wine tasting tres, was by accident.

It happened at our dinner at SY Kitchen.


Glass turned into a bottle, which turned into me asking the waiter if they served cheesecake at the restaurant.

A normal question?


Not quite, since we had already ordered dessert, paid, and were leaving the restaurant.

V-day, D-day.

JK, D-day was really February 15th, while driving down the once picturesque road to Santa Barbara.

Once we arrived to SB, I ate a cheeseburger.


Enough said.

Happy V-day, D-day y’all.




There was a time when I despised DTLA.

As in, I refused to go unless food or tickets were involved.


I was invited to visit the Broad on Saturday morning.

While we were sans rezzies, I had zero concerns, since we were going to be proactive, and wake up before all of Los Angeles to be the first in line.

While 10am may seem early for brunch in Santa Monica, 10am does not equal early in DTLA.

Sweet. Mother. Of. Pearl.

We pulled up to a line of hipsters and tourists wrapped around the block of the museum.

Aw, hell.

IMG_4973Classic DTLA disaster.

Then, DTLA despair…

“If you are standing here, you will have a minimum wait of two hours and will not get tickets for the Infinity Mirror exhibit,” said the line herder/artistic dream crusher for the Broad Museum.


We were already in DTLA, WTF were we supposed to do?

Go hangout at LA Live at 10am?

The Yard House does not serve breakfast.

For the record- All good things happen at The Yard House at LA Live.

After an hour and a half, we finally got tickets for the 12pm time, which left us a minute to explore.


I felt very (500) Days of Summer walking around DTLA on foot, in daylight, not cursing the shoes I was wearing/fearing for my life.

We found the diamond in the rough of DTLA, Grand Central Market, and enjoyed cappuccinos while witnessing the second wrap around line of the day at Eggslut.


After finally gaining entry, we bopped around the Broad and enjoyed the modern art.


Matching #blackswan

My favorite exhibit was one we stumbled upon when we first walked in.

Very bizarre, yet so refreshing and interesting.


I was semi-disturbed at first, but could not move away from what I call, “The Frozen Sheep.” Not the real title, but by Damien Hirst.

After so much modern art, it was time to hydrate with mimosas and inhale burrata pizza at Bottega Louie.


This kicked off my food bender for the remainder of weekend.

Do I blame DTLA for this, or my new obsession with Netflix’s Making a Murderer?






New Year…

New Year, new me.



Still the same overeating, neurotic human I was in 2015.


Besides ringing in the New Year with my Myspace Top 8 (really top 10), I indulged in an oversized luxury vehicle (Uber XL) at 1:30am #mistake #peasant, and enjoyed my favorite meal to start off #cleaneating2016…



Taco Bell.

No silly, I didn’t #livemas on 1/1/16! I instead enjoyed farm fresh courses in the ‘Bu.

But I did on 1/4/16 on Monday, after returning back to work.

Am I upset that I Lived Mas on a Monday?


Bachelor Monday?

No, because I’ll go die for 3 days in a spin class to pay for my love for Mexican cuisine.


These were purchased on 12/31/15. They are still sitting in my fridge. Unopened…

Someone asked me, “What are you looking forward to in 2016?”

I will tell you…


I have never complained so much about the weather as I have in the past month of this Antarctic temperature.


The last time I had central heat was over Christmas at my family home with my two cats. #luxury

So much so, I bought a $pace heater at CV$.

I could spend my $48.00 on plenty of other useful items.


-Make up wipes

-Cleaning supplies



Not a total waste, since the El Nino has been lurking around.

I am looking forward to heat in my desert oasis.


I saw this while waiting in the drive thru line at Taco Bell. I nearly choked on my Crunchwrap.

While it won’t be The Parker Hotel, hammock swinging, spiked lemonade drinking, heat life I truly desire, I am looking forward to Coachella and basking in the sun.

Especially after the line up was announced on Monday.

Let’s not forget my moment with Calvin Harris back in 2014. #TBT


In a setting that looked like the aftermath of a 21-year-old birthday party, I sat on the floor with my six friends scrolling through photos of the night before, while simultaneously picking at the birthday cake that remained untouched until the morning.


Champagne was much more appealing than Celebration Cake at 8pm.

“What should my caption be?” I said as I scrolled.

Flatly, my hungover friend Cristina said, “Old A-F.”

How endearing.


Before the cake and sly comments, there was only positivity for my day of birth, which was celebrated in three different states, as I was traveling for work.

How adult, and how weird.


I am going to refer to my age in French, since it sounds much better in this language than in English.


From an early surprise delivery at my office, to a gift at my hotel room in Chicago, I felt very #blessed with my increased age.


Thank you to the W Hotel for sending a complimentary bottle of wine to my room at 12:30pm on 12/3.


While I could not drink the bottle (I am vingt-six, not 21), I did enjoy the idea of drinking wine while staring out the window at the Christmas lights on Michigan Avenue.


However, this was not a reality, since I ended up being sick with a sore throat and not able to finish even a glass of red wine at my day of birth dinner. I thought about requesting tea instead of wine.


When I told my friends this, they gasped.

I did eat the ice cream though...

I did eat the ice cream though…

I OD’d on some Vitamin-C and hopped on a plane back to LA.


Since I am old A-F, I cancelled my 70’s themed party, and opted for the next best thing:

Sitting, drinking, and eating at a French wine bar.


Since my Farrah Fawcett fantasy was destroyed, I scurried to Montana Balloon for some decoration$ to put something together last minute.

I will say that my “party” and my week was everything I could’ve wanted in more in a vingt-six b-day.


Thank you to all of my friends and family for making me feel so special on my day of birth.

Also, thank you to the pharmacist at the CVS on Hubbard, and whoever created those inedible, yet curing Vitamin-C tablets.


Lastly, I don’t know whether to thank or hate my friend Sean, who sent me to a Tiki bar in El Segundo after I asked for a bar recco near LAX for a friend with a lay over.

The Tiki bar, did not have cake, but they did have chips for purchase.

HBDAY over CHDNAY and Doritos.






“Umm Lisa, I am getting a ton of action on social media. Maybe your blog thing should be a mother daughter project.”

Said my mom, after receiving more than 10 likes on Facebook for her meal prep pictures.

Screen Shot 2015-11-27 at 11.07.16 PM

Happy Thanksgiv everyone, and welcome to the 25th Holiday games.

Did you miss me?

You’re not the only one, as my parents probably told me 60 times over the past weekend how they would love for me to come home more often.


I am just trying to live my life parents!!!!!!


My holiday began with some lox, cream cheese, and the LA times, as I took the day off to educate myself with current events before sitting down at the dinner table.

Kylie and Tyga’s tumultuous love affair does not count.


I also took the day to experience a rebirth, which took approximately 4 hours at the Chris McMillan salon.


Thank you @badgal_bb for saving my hair

I finally feel back to my “natural” self.

I celebrated my newly blonde hair, with my ultra blonde friend John, with margs at the most festive place imaginable, The Grove.


I then checked a few teenagers for the pre-ordered Pumpkin Pie at Urth Cafe.

If you’re curious, they made 1300 pies this year.

I now understand why they were frustrated when I could not produce my confirmation number.

I had accomplished all of my pre-holiday tasks, before returning to my family home.

 There are three stages when returning home:


Nice wine, ditching the nightly Whole Foods sushi for a home cooked meal (or nice take-out) shout out to Nancy Silverton from Mozza!

Watching shows you would never watch since they’re not on Netflix or you’re “too busy.”

PBS has this great show called, “I’ll Have What Phil’s Having,” which totally fit in with the food theme for the week.



I am sleeping over but forgot an item.

Why do I only have tour t-shirts from 2003 and Juicy jackets?


Breaking point

The moment you are thankful you do not live at home.

Mine was when our lab, Bailey jumped up on the table and took a bite of the confirmation number pie I picked up.

Ignore the high school portrait lurking in the back.

Ignore the high school portrait lurking in the back.

There was also a weird moment that happened before the feasting.

I title this a T-giving scary.

The “scaries” usually happen on Sunday as the result of a hangover /deep despair, and irrational life reflections.

This scary happened pre-meal, and was definitely disorienting.

The common thoughts included-

Who am I?

What is life?

Will wine make me feel better in 3 hours?


The above were disregarded, as it was time to pop champagne, and pretend like life wasn’t so weird while inhaling stuffing and my FAVORITE cranberry sauce in a can.

It’s a classic.

Each year, I have between 1-2 family members approach me to make me verbally sign an NDA not discussing the events of the evening.


The two stars of my past #thanksgiv blogs, were not present this holiday. Sigh.

But my napkins were, which were my main contribution besides my knowledge of current events.


While I tried to cure my food hangover with a workout and some overpriced shopping, I ended the holiday with a piece of cake and a trip to my second sanctuary besides The Bungalow, the Arclight.



Special thanks to Carms and Hone for always loving me unconditionally and housing me in their home.

Jonathan for the oatmeal pie, and my camouflage cat Boo, for re-emerging Friday afternoon, after we thought he had escaped during the inebriated dinner.


See you next week after I return from… Arkansas, Chicago, and a birthday…

Not listing the number.




Winter Coat

Packing list for NYC:


All black clothing



No, the coat was not necessary.



My favorite new discovery- The Grand Central Market

Because an extra layer of warmth takes over my body between the months of September and January.

I call it, The Winter Coat.

The Winter Coat = the 2-5 LBS I gain every year during the-oh-so chilly 70 degree Los Angeles weather during the “winter” months.


I felt that my Winter Coat, which has been in full effect since the 10/1 return of pumpkin spice, would keep me warm for my work trip to NYC.



After Day 2, I was throwing hundred$ at Zara on a real winter coat that I would need to carry on the plane back to Los Angeles.


Even with the two Soul classes I did during my 6 days in NYC (currently feeling peasant status after realizing I spent 6 days there… ) my personal Winter Coat (not Zara) is in full force.

How could I not go and inhale every type of food, pastry, (and wine) NYC has to offer?

Am I just going to walk past the Dominique Ansel bakery?

I think not!




Day 1- after a turbulent and necessary chardonnay-filled plane ride, we headed to Momofuku and kicked off the food tour de NYC.


Shrimp buns from Momofuku

I created a map so we would never be in a neighborhood without knowledge of a good eatery.


Ginger scallion noodles

Day 2- I had the ultimate food hangover AND jet lag and (former-NY-and-now-LA-resident) #seankelly mocked me for this- “do you think you’re in Europe?” #rude and almost…

To work off the Coat, we spun our noodles and confetti cake balls away at Soul on Bryant park.


Which we then balanced out with crispy rice and chard at Momoya.



Day 3 of the tour de food- The addictive cake balls from Momo were calling, so we hopped down to East Village, and stopped at Upland which is a life-altering restaurant where I had the best salad of my entire life.


Cereal milk flavored ice cream- I’ll take it.


The Little Gem salad from Upland

Hustled up to Broadway for some rosé at the Knickerbocker, and to attempt a lottery for The Book of Mormon.

We did not win but managed to get ticket$.


Rooftop Rose with Moran

Legit peasant.

Before I continue with my food fiesta, we must focus on the new Adele song.


I nearly had an emotional breakdown at the Drybar in Bryant Park on Friday morning, as I plugged in my headphones to hear this musical masterpiece.
So many feels.



Stores in NY have adopted the Drybar model of getting a customer to have an enjoyable experience by pushing alcohol.


Perhaps, it was SOHO, or perhaps, it was Saturday, but alcohol was given to customers meandering through the streets, and not just high rollers.

Note to self… instead of spending $14, on a cantaloupe mimosa at Jack’s Wife Freda, just bop to West Village, for a buzz.


After being plied with these giveaways at three stores, I was ready to spend, and bought an overpriced For Love and Lemons dress.


The rest of the weekend consisted of numerous salmon benedicts, mimosas, and drinking gin in a bathtub.


Bathtub Gin

When in NYC, embrace the food, and put on your winter coat.




Sorry for the delay,

Giggles has been in denial.

Denial, that we had box seats at the Hollywood Bowl for Kanye and that he played for 1 hour.


Don’t be deceived. This was not a Yeezus tour…😦

While the show was mediocre to the fifth, we did get a Kardashian sighting out of it, and chew on some Larchmont Wine and Cheese sandwiches.



Back to my denial.

Denial, that my favorite instant lunch UberEats poisoned me.

This was not what killed me. It was the salmon and hummus. Do not order that meal, or prepare to face the consequences #hadtolaydownatwork

This was not what killed me. It was the salmon and hummus. Do not order that meal, or prepare to face the consequences #hadtolaydownatwork


Denial that as a 25-year-old, I am still having to wear my retainer and am still scolded on a monthly basis by my orthodontist.



Life isn’t too hard since it’s my favorite time of year.



This is the time of year when everyone in Los Angeles throws on a sweater and booties to pretend like it’s cold, and enjoys the season with some form of pumpkin spice.

I’m not as #basic as everyone thinks, as I refuse to enjoy the PSL at Starbs.

To get my pumpkin fix, I go to a monastery up in Hollywood.

If you’re not religious, you will be after having the pumpkin bread baked by the cloistered nuns.

When I’m not inhaling holy pumpkin bread, I am down in San Diego, where seasons do not exist.



BRB world, i’m off to pretend it’s June 2012 and act like a 22-year-old at CRSSD this weekend.



Bermuda Triangle

The Bermuda Triangle.

This is not located in a tropical location.

That is a myth.

The Bermuda triangle is in Pasadena, CA and is in fact a very real place.


Where cell phones are of no use, liquids are limited, and despair is constant due to the overwhelming feeling of being stranded.

Help is not on the way.

What is this place called?

The Rose Bowl.


Each time I go, I think that I’ve learned from my past visits.

But, no.

I pay the price for my optimism, with blisters and FAT Uber fees.

We got tickets to UCLA VS. BYU game.

We must go!


We carpooled out there and enjoyed Stellas while tailgating.


We had wristbands that were supposed to give us access to the Blue Moon Club.

BMC= Burgers and Booze.

How glorious that they have this area, for adults to enjoy a college football game.

I was starting to take back my past comments of the Rose Bowl.

Did the Coliseum have this club?

I think not!

As we entered the BMC, I was followed by a Rose Bowl employee who ripped the wristband off my arm right after I heard, “mam, MAM!”

“These are fake.”


Luckily, there was a plethora of hot dog stands at which I inhaled my sorrows of not being able to hydrate at the Blue Moon Club.


After BYU was killing UCLA, we decided to leave and head to the Uber pickup area.

How organized of the Rose Bowl!


This was a mirage.

Uber created an address that the drivers could not get to.

After an hour of hassling the Uber reps, three cancelled rides, and too much heat, we decided to brave the elements (humidity) and attempt to find civilization on our own.


We hiked up a hill to my friend Cammie’s house, and prayed that the Uber would be able to find us.

Because we gave them an actual address, we were able to get picked up within 10 minutes.

I’ve never been so excited to see a Chevy Volt in my life.

After being seriously dehydrated, we spent the rest of the night at Q’s.

Sunday, I resembled Tom Hanks from Castaway, when he arrives back from the island.

I had such a greater appreciation for life. I was even happy to watch football all day long.

The state I was in….


We ended the weekend with hydrating on the beach in the sand.

Where’s Wilson?

I don’t care as long as I have my marg.





Before I left for Lake Havasu, my co-worker had some parting words on a survival tactic for my Labor Day weekend adventure:

“Channel your inner Britney Spears. Embrace the trucker hat and ripped shorts. Walk into a bathroom with no shoes on.”


I would say that the beginning of the trip started off similar to the film “Lake Placid.”

The water and the vibe was calm, relaxing, almost tranquil. But by the end of the film, the alligator (our group) had completely lost control and was wreaking havoc on the lake.

The calm before the storm

The calm before the storm

Day 1

Started with wakeboarding (not me), cliff jumping (me), and black eye tubing.

Not me

Not me

I looked like a euphoric wet squirrel, clutching on the tube before flying off face first into the water.


I’ll preface this next part by saying that I went to the U of A.

I’ve “hydrated” in extreme temperatures and elements and none have affected me like the #lakelife.


I received a concerned text from my friend Natasha by the end of the day 1, asking if I was seasick, which I instantly disregarded because I am no amateur water person.

I’ve sailed, banana boated, water-skied, and bobbed in Cabo and Catalina for years.


No problem.

I found out later that she was referring to the after-effect of the #lakelife when back on land of which came in hot and out of nowhere.

I felt fine, then all of a sudden, a whirl pool hit my head at 8pm.

So scary!

Despite my borderline heat stroke, we enjoyed an amazing dinner that revitalized me, and brought us back to life.

Britney was back.


Day 2

The group walked to our station, which was titled a “pontoon” and set up camp for the day.

The K-Fed to my Britney had to snap me back to reality since I was literally standing there mouth agape.


This was when the WT emerged, or really I should say floated, down the river.



Pasties, thongs, and diamond accessories- this is what LDW Havasu dreams are made of.
Our group was not into the above trends, but it was funny the number of times thsat someone asked if I had a trucker hat since I didn’t know after Von Dutch and Ashton rocked them back in ‘03 they were still current.


I found one in the house, and transformed into Britney.

Full Force.

Legit Britney and K-Fed

Legit Britney and K-Fed

We somehow managed to make it out to a bar called Kokomos, which is the American version of Squid Roe.

Shooters, cages, and platforms.

Oh and accessories were available to purchase in case you were feeling flirty.


Despite the detoxing and serious hydrating required for the next two weeks, the trip was worth the whirlpool and six hour drive, and I would definitely like to return, but maybe pre-alligator havoc.




Take Me To Church

I attended church this weekend.

No, it was not on Sunday. It was on Friday night.

In downtown Los Angeles.

At the Staples Center.

Mass was led by the patron saint of pop music, Taylor Swift.


(Britney actually is, but T-Swift serves as the interim Saint until Britney decides she wants to come back).


As the voice of our millennial generation, I envisioned the stadium to be packed with 20-somethings, united in song- Reflecting on past experiences where Taylor helped them through a difficult time.

This was not the case.

I was the oldest person there.

Well, my roommate and I were at least.


Surrounded by legit children, (not even pre-teens) and families, we danced and screamed to all things Swift.


One of the kids knocked over my vodka soda and didn’t realize what he had done.

No, this is not water!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I laughed, I cried (not over the vodka soda), and loved hearing the soundtrack to my life for the past 10 years, live in concert.


What I did not love, was the Lakers propaganda, with Kobe making an appearance during “Style.”

I came here to see Swift and her posse of model friends walk the runway in sync, not halt the song for Kobe to award Taylor a banner.

I would have much preferred to see this.



Sigh round two.

I might have been a bit on edge with the toddlers, since I was exhausted from moving.

We only moved one floor above where we currently live, but honestly one Saturday of hell, was enough to push me to my limit- Mentally and Physically.


Ever since the one-floor move, I’ve been in this haze, where I walk into a World Market, or a Target for one item, and walk out with an assortment of random objects.

I legitimately blacked out at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

I bought a scarf hanger…




And wine?



Post T-Swift and one week after the one-floor move, I woke up with the leg cramp.

The one where, you want to call 9-1-1 and are literally paralyzed.

This was me Friday night.


My Saturday footwork at the Bungalow did not help, but it’s still sore and i’m concerned.


Correspondance with my Soul Cycle instructor, Franz.

Besides the age reminder and the leg cramp, the T-Swift 1989 concert was everything I could have wanted and more (minus Kobe), and I would recommend everyone to go.

Just make sure your seat is close to the refreshments.



Giggles Goes to Harvard

If you watch “Intervention” (my occasional autobiography on Sundays), you know the scene: The subject is on the plane, heading to rehab and then there’s a sort of relief that comes over you?

That’s how I felt (minus the rehab portion) Thursday morning. I was heading to Boston for a wedding, and inconveniently got sick on Wednesday.
This is a real pain when you’re an adult (sub spongebob for excel). I was still not feeling 100% Thursday morning.
Since I needed an extra 10 minutes of sleep, I got a nice workout as I jogged through the Virgin terminal, but luckily made it on my flight just as we were boarding.

I ended up eating two cheese plates, and nearly had an emotional breakdown watching the memorial package for Paul Walker at the end of Furious 7.
Sniffly, I finally made it to Boston.

It’s always so comical to see giggles out of her natural Californian habitat.

Dallas was culture shock with the y’all’s, but in Boston, there are SO many customs that do not exist in Los Angeles.
1. Dunkin Donuts- this is not just a chain, it’s a way of life.

Straight out of "Trainwreck."

Post Wedding

2. The Accents- I was told to resist the temptation of imitating them, but I couldn’t. The number of times I asked someone to “pawk the cawr in hawvahd yawd.” Too much…
3. An insult is a pick up line. I had a b-loc tell me I had small boobs then ask for my
number. I’ll pass, dude.

The wedding was beautiful and filled with cheers, champagne, and Chardonnay.



Then, the Mary-Kate to my Ashley (jengum) came to Boston from NYC to recreate an Olsen twin movie with me, as we normally do for all the trips we go on together.



We subbed Neptune Oyster with Island Creek, and had a very under the sea lunch.
Next on our tour de Boston, was a trip to Cambridge to visit my Alma Mater, Harvard.
Alma Mater, since I told all of our Uber drivers I attended school there and studied bio engineering.

Lobsta roll

Lobsta roll

I don’t think this major exists…

They didn’t ask, but I managed to include this piece of information in every car conversation.
We spent the whole day in Cambridge catching up on lyfe, and decided to ask our bartender what the quintessential Harvard bar was.

What? Like it's hard?

What? Like it’s hard?

“The kids who go here don’t do a ton of drinking, so there isn’t a bar that everyone goes to.”

Jengum had a sudden emergency to attend to, and left Boston much earlier than expected.

I thought I would take the opportunity to upgrade my knowledge of the city and jump on a tour.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately at this point), the only tour that was available at 8pm was a Ghost Tour.


Our tour whip

Our tour whip

It was such a sight … me following a Colonial woman with a lantern around Boston, learning about headstones and graveyards.

We went to two, by the way, and all of the guides were in character…
IMG_2859Truly comical.
The next day, I rewarded myself with a trip to Mike’s Bakery, and once again posed as a Boston local while I strolled Newbury St. 


Top 3 highlights of my trip

Top 3 highlights of my trip

Boston was WICKED fun and next time I visit, I will make sure to stay at our same hotel again (it used to be a prison, so all of the restaurants and bars are jail themed) and to, hopefully, visit Fenway Park.

Jail hotel. Totally.

Jail hotel. Totally.

They knew I was coming..

They knew I was coming..


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