SLO Whimsical

Wedding Season.

Oh, what a time to be alive.


This is a season of bride tribes, and also a time for bribes.

Yes, you read that right: Bribes, not brides.

After calling begging my  Spray Tan spot for an appointment on Friday, there was no room at the inn for me at both Los Angeles locations. I would be forced to resemble an uncooked turkey for my cousin’s wedding in San Luis Obispo on Saturday.


The Horror. (BTW I referred to San Luis, as San Looie Obispo). Really the horror.

I had two options Friday evening- Beg or bribe.

The latter had already failed, so I needed to take my negotiations to the next level.

I went to Sweet Lady Jane down the street, picked up a plethora of sweet treats and arrived unannounced at the salon.

“Hello. You may know me as Lisa Jones, your regular client. You may know me as Lisa Jones who is on the wait list this evening. You may know me as the client who has brought a box of sweet treats this evening. I have a wedding tomorrow. What can we do to fix this problem ?{slides yellow pastry box across the table}.”

“Someone just cancelled. We can take you now.”


Brownies create appointments at Bronzed Santa Monica.

J, and the now cooked turkey jetted off to SLO, but got stuck in some way too long traffic on the 101. It didn’t help our drive that I was staring at every photo from Pippa’s wedding, and couldn’t engage in chatting with the driver.

Prince George was scolded by Kate?


Food was the cue for me to become present, as Jordan had said he wanted to stop at a sandwich shop on the way.

Bell Street Farm.

Where do I begin?

I can’t.


Sandwiches are a passion of mine. We walked in and were immediately allured by the adorable farm chic aesthetic, but realized we had found the holy grail after a bite of the sandwich.

Sweet mother of pearl.

This sandwich transcends The Bay Cities, Godmother and the Larchmont Wine and Cheese Sandwich ( which I’ve been ready or die for the #4 since 02’.). If you are past Santa Barbara for any reason, you must immediately go here. Yes, you will not be looking out at a vineyard, but you will see many in your life, and there is only one sandwich like this.


Literally Kelly Clarkson’s “A Moment Like This” started playing after one bite.


The traffic+The awe of Bell Street caused us to be Fast and The Furious to the wedding. Literally did my make-up in the car, there was some swearing when the eyeliner piece happened, but we Tokyo drifted to the hotel and into an UBER.

The venue was magical.

Whimsical. Breath taking.


Congratulations to Ryan and Michelle, and thank you for including us in your special day.

We woke up on a wedding happiness high, and roamed SLO.


We ended up at a winery by 10am (yolo slolo) that was originally a school house in 1910. The name of the school was Independence and they even had the original sign and a desk in the tasting room. The woman serving us the wine told us the school bell had been stolen. Que lastima!



You could only imagine when Jordan and I went back to Bell Street for another sandwich (so nice we had it twice), and went down the street to an antique shop, and found the bell.


Take a look.

Regardless of if the bell was from Baileyana or not, I truly felt like Indiana Jones, when I walked into the antique shop tipsy AF and demanded the origin of the seller of the bell.


I immediately texted the woman from the tasting room (yes we exchanged numbers. She’s working in Napa for a very large vineyard) and told her of my findings.

Her response was not that of a Spielberg film, but regardless, I felt very Indiana Jones like. Raiders of Los Alamos.

Toss me my hat, and call me Giggles.




Otter Contagion

While everyone was at the Met on Monday, Moran and I created our own soirée with scrambled eggs and rosé.


 Ah, the life of luxury.

This has been by far the most relaxing part of my week, since I have served as an RN after Jordan and I were exposed to the plague.

The carrier: The otters.


“Hey otter, here’s some shrimp.”

“Hey Jordan, here’s the plague.”



Happier times with our new found carrier friend

Was it the otters who infected Jordan with a minor flu? We’ll never know.


We definitely cannot keep the pace we had last weekend with the John Mayer concert, and my roommates birthday AKA the annual pregame for May Madness.


After slow dancing in a burning room, we bopped to the original inferno, Shore Bar, guzzled some VT’s, then slowly ventured to the LBC towards the Aquarium of the Pacific.



The Otter Encounter was all shrimps and giggles until both of us woke up with a sore throat the next day.

Side Note- closed toes shoes are mandatory for the encounter.

Unless you want to make a stop by the Converse outlet across the street from the Aquarium (this was not by choice).


After taking a sabbatical from my home on Wilshire and Ocean, I was hoping to return to my stomping grounds, but it looks like I’ve been sentenced to an indoor Saturday, with the upcoming rainy weather.


Oh well. I’m banking on discounted rosé due to the inclimate weather.


BRB Bracing for May.


The Royals & Rinna

I  thought I was going to die on my way home from Cabo.


I envisioned my demise going viral across all channels, with my fellow passengers on American Airlines documenting the despair.

How did I get to this point by going on a family vacation with my aunt and parents?

Very simple- I have the Cabo Curse.

Now that I am an adult, my parents think they’re Will & Kate (really they’re Charles and Camilla) and spare no expense when it comes to their travel requirements.


The Royals

I am similar to Duchess Fergie.

She’s invited to an occasional royal function, only if there is space at the event.


Lisa Rinna and her Instagram daughters were on the plane, but it was too early and I was too decaffeinated to care.


Why does the Starbs @ Tom Bradley not have mobile order service?

The royals and Lisa Rinna sat up in first class, while my aunt and I sat in coach for the two hour plane ride.

The flight attendant looked baffled when I asked for a mimosa. Coach does not have champagne? Por que!!!!!


Decaffeinated and dehydrated, I picked up an $18 Corona at the airport

I know. Frivolous for a peasant like me, but I was desperate.


Royalty only pays in cash

Charles and Camilla had Bloody Mary’s and oatmeal in their “section” of the plane and were driving below the Mexican speed limit in our rental car.

We arrived at The Grand Solmar.

It remains one of my favorite places, even though I cannot frolick in the violent ocean.


The royals and I have been going to the Pacific side of Cabo since I was 9 weeks old.

While the buildings, the people, and my family have grown/changed, the beach has not. With growth, there’s adjustment, and while the past fews years have been just that, we’ve all had to #beardown, take a deep breath, and acclimate to a new way of life.  My Dad’s walking is no bueno, so Carms ordered him a scooter to get around the hotel.




With two margs down, I was happy to pick it up the carriage scooter in the lobby and go mach 10 down to the beach.

It was comical. But even more comical when I showed my dad how to use the horn on the scooter #evicted.


The condo was beautiful.

I ended up falling asleep for three hours on the patio in some type of lounge bed, and woke up to the sunset.


This was the nicest view I woke up to during the trip. The space that I was awarded was a bed located in the middle of the kitchen.


I woke up like dis


Sharing my travels with my other peasants

The “bed,” called a Murphy bed, flipped into the wall for the day, and served as “my space” during the evening.  Each morning I awoke to the marble island and the clanking of coffee cups. Only the best for Duchess!


I lounged.

I swam.

I burned.

I got food poisoning.

My last day. The Murphy bed. The kitchen. The horror!

The Cabo Curse.

Every time. EVERY time I go to Mexico, I get food poisoning.


I was shivering on the way to the airport, thought I was going to pass out on the toll road, pulled over and dry heaved into a cactus, and considered going to a hospital.

In Mexico. With my parents. At 27 years old.

Who have I become? All I could do was blame the Murphy bed and not the nostalgic palapa bar on the Pacific side where I consumed a grey cheeseburger.


Q U E  L A S T I M A 

The royals had another fabulous four days still to go in Cabo, so I flew solo in this unstable state.

I sat in the humid AF airport, nibbling on one Mexican cracker, thinking that I was going to vomit at any moment, when a familiar face from my 30 seconds in luxury appeared.

Lisa Rinna!

We boarded, and I braced for the worst. Luckily, I had my crackers, and sunglasses on during the flight.

Everyone thought I was some hungover college kid (because I look so youthful) who couldn’t handle Mexico.


Wishing I could die here instead of in the humid Cabo airport

After drinking a gallon of water, four crackers, and remaining seated and still for the two hour flight while watching Beauty and the Beast, I emerged from the plane, as not a victim, but a survivor.

Carpe Diem, Duchess.




P.S. While I was out for the count post my survival moment, I watched a documentary on Netflix titled, “Galapagos.” It shows the beauty and reptiles of the mysterious Galapagos islands.

Still delusional and dehydrated.


Struggles by Jones

I do not run.

I do not jog.


I occasionally sprint on the treadmill due to intimidation by the Orange Theory instructor, but my sausage links do not scurry for a significant amount of time.

Sunday, I ran a 5k.

I literally felt like P. Diddy, episode one, when he trained for the New York marathon.

Confused and unprepared.


I also identified with my spirit animal of a corgi:

Short legged, long torso, extremely hyper at the start, then a tater tot that needed to be rolled and coddled by mile three.

Running is strenuous on my short legged corgi body, but for Jordan, the 6’2 long legged gazelle, a 5k is merely a quick gallop of effortlessness.


My preferred pastime…

The weekend was relaxing besides the trot.

Jordan tried to befriend my overweight cat socks, we ran into Carms @ Nespresso, I snagged a D E A L @ Nordstrom rack , and we enjoyed the 75 degree weather we were #blessed with on Friday.


Pain can be interpreted in many ways…To me, it is running any amount of distance, to Jordan it is running errands across town…. Most recently, in the valley.


Socks- Not amused by Jordan’s advances

I tried to cheer him up  after the first errand mile, with Iroha on Ventura, but he was so cranky when we sat down, we both blacked out and ordered way too many sashimi boxes  and felt letharg and large for the remainder of the day.


Mid-errand on Montana, he abandoned me for a beer and sports at the Father’s Office.

To each his own.

He didn’t leave me during the #lafoxtrot, and we celebrated my under 35 minute trot with a bellini and crab leg at Sawyer.



While I am happy I completed the 5k, I am sore AF, and literally thought I tore my ACL at Soul Cycle last night.




Laters Baby

Thank god it’s not January anymore.

What a dark 30 days. Can we all take a moment and say Ciao to that horrible month? #deuces


Attempting to be crafty in 2017

Feb is the new Jan, and as the preacher of my church, Franz from Soul Cycle says,

“There is always a time to start over and change. Everything is temporary.”

Apparently, Jordan thinks my mood is also temporary after showing me this…


Thanks, J.

D-Day V-Day is here.

Processed with VSCO with 6 preset

Everyone take a deep breathe and brace for all of the social posts with flowers, experiences, and sentimental captions.


I am really going to make an effort to not let the facade of this hallmark holiday consume my emotions like it did last year.


Literally me before the our wine adventure last year

I let a cardboard box dictate my day, and it is not happening again.

Not that this box caused all of the below (except for one thing), but I do blame it for some of my actions this time last year.


  1. Jordan sent me flowers from the online service The Bouqs. They were orange, and they were dead. I cried.
  2. We stayed in a danish town, that resembled a broken Disneyland.
  3. I was over served in SY and woke up in not the bed on 2/15.

Let’s all chill, and not get carried away for the holiday, because the above could happen to you.

Expect nothing, get everything.


This is precisely what I did when I went to go see 50 Shades at the iPic on Sunday.

Perhaps it was my experience that deceived me from the quality of the film, with the smell of fresh and FREE popcorn greeting me as I entered, or the fact that someone brought champagne to my seat and I didn’t need to move for 2.5 hours (I sound like Corinne.. Code red!), but either way I really preferred the second film over the first.

Thanks @CarlaCarmack for the great idea!


Seeing the film on a Sunday @ 12:30pm, was the perfect afternoon delight, as I was a bit dehydrated from the day before of wine tasting with the gals @ Rosenthal on PCH.

Everyone took advantage of the break in El Nino round two, and enjoyed the sun and the 70 degree weather.

We ended the weekend celebrating v-day @ Son of a Gun with my parents, and I literally felt like Bey after tasting everything on the menu.


The lobsta roll from Son of A Gun. Small, but SENSATIONAL!

To be truly carefree and relaxed this holiday, perhaps I’ll wear my velour Juicy sweats to dinner, since that is literally the only thing that fits me right now.

Overeating, but not over served,

Happy Valentine’s Day.


Desert Flash

I’ve been stressed AF and needed a moment.


Jordan was fully aware that I was code red and booked us a trip to the desert.

My oasis. My mirage of reality. My home #tbt desert life @ The U of A.

The Parker was overpriced and foolishly expensive ($700/night), so we Gooped it and booked the Sparrows Lodge.


Jordan refers to the bible of Yelp for knowledge of experience at any restaurant/hotel.

The only negative review we read of the Sparrow, was that there was one room next to the highway that felt like you were sleeping on the 405.


We arrive to Sparrow and were greeted with a glass of sangria (dying) as we walked to our room.

Out of the 20 rooms on the property, guess which one we got…

Villa de 405.


Jordan was not allured by the rustic chic and beautiful outdoor patio and asked for a switch.

All sold out. Not chill.


At least offer a discounted rate for the maintenance shed!

They also did not have tequila at the bar barn, which that alone made Jordan want to depart.


Later Sparrows, headed to Rancho Mirage.

We didn’t know what to expect after booking the luxy Ritz Carlton within an hour with points, but were not disappointed.

 This hotel did have tequila, and we sat on the deck watching the sun set over the desert.


After canceling our original dinner reservation @ Workshop which has been on my list since 2014, we tried to get in via Ritz concierge, but were unable to until 9:45pm.

Giggles needs to be fed no later than 8:15pm.

After a few margs, I got the courage to call for the third time, and the tequila gods acted in my favor.


Reservation. Booth. 6:15pm.


Thank you Casa Azul.


After some room service, and a seriously depressing ending to the film Allied, we woke up to a beautiful 75 degree day.


It was a bit disorienting to be in the desert with the palm trees and seeing the snowcapped mountains in the background.


Were we in Mammoth or Palm Springs?

I did not want to leave, but as we departed, we bopped over to the $700/night hotel for lunch, then stopped at the outlets for a deal.


Due to my summer top, and the wind tunnels, I managed to flash every patron in the mall.


I made it rain at Joie, then ate an entire box of Triscuits in the three hours we were in traffic.


Thank you, Jordan for planning a fabulous weekend in one of my favorite places.




Lean In to Love

I had planned on discussing my France fund, and the troubles of financing my trip the first week of January, but something horrible happened.

On January 7th, my cousin, Jimmie Carmack unexpectedly passed away. There are no words, only tears to describe, the sadness and devastation I’ve felt and observed over the past couple of weeks.

There is nothing you can do to prepare for anything like this. There are no drills. The only thing you can do is stop, drop everything, and be there to support.

The first responders are family, then friends who come armed with empathy, platters of sandwiches, love, and occasional lighthearted comments that ease the unbearable with a brief smile.

There are so many elements of this life that are artificial, superficial, staged. This month was a reminder to lean in to the people who will be the first responders, and cherish the ones who will bring the snickerdoodles and smiles.

His passing is one I will never understand.

I will miss you always, Jimmie.


2017- Year of the Gig

My New Year’s revelations appeared long before Mariah Carey decided to lip sync in Times Square on 12/31.


It happened during the heat of the December, resulting in a nasty holiday hangover.

Not because of all the pinot noir I was guzzling at the dinner table Nov-Dec, but because of the energy I was exerting for wrapping, giving, shopping, waiting, ordering.


Ain’t nobody got time for that.

A gift that I kept receiving besides the countless Starbucks cards, which are currently floating around my purse (you can combine them all here), were happiness journals.

Apparently, more than one person thought this would be a gift I could use, and it was/is.


This was another gift I received. Coasters with my family Christmas card. Cool.

My takeaways

  1. Stop Trying to be Perfect
    • Anyone that knows me, knows I am far from the definition of a perfectionist, but there are certain details I tend to focus on, that end up hurting me and the people around me. I love to plan perfection, but if you haven’t learned from experience, the best kind of “perfection” are the moments that are not planned. Let. It. Go. GOOOOOO!
  2. Stop Spending
    • This is where my planning perfection must reverse itself. My bank account is a food journal of my frivolous activity, that needs to be controlled. Whole Foods will be visited only once a week. #peasantforlyfe
  3. Live Más
    • No, do not go to the drive thru, but follow the T-bell slogan.  Do what you love, and make the time for it.


Enough of my revelations, here are my promises to you:

Each week there will be a new post.

New content, new giggles.

Everyone Bear Down because it is about to get real.




One Night in KC

Kansas City, you did not disappoint.

You delivered after a turbulent three and half hour flight  on American Eagle.



I flew in expecting country, and was surrounded by culture.

KC does not get the credit it deserves.

From the Crossroads to Westport, the city is surprisingly sophisticated and cosmopolitan.

“Why are you going to Kansas City?”


My answer to all:

I am visiting my BFF who does the news there.

I flew in for literally 24 hours.

Not really, but I landed on Friday @ 12am and left on Sunday @ 2pm.


I was greeted by Dolly, (yes, Lexi brought her cat to the airport to greet me) and got a tour of The Plaza, which looked like “It’s a Small World” at Christmas time.


We had one day to explore, so we kicked off #lcjoneskc with brunch at Gram & Dun.

Brunch in the Midwest is not like brunch in LA.

Meat. On meat. On meat.


Our appetizer: Asian pig wings.

Ordering a salad was almost comical.


We stopped at the WWI museum to get a lay of the land, and were accosted by a 12-year-old, who decided to provoke a snowball fight with Lexi.


We got off at Main and waved at the streetcar, drank whiskey, and decided to sample every pastry at Yummy! bakery.


The banana bread was to die. # butter

After I tried to cure my coldness with carbs, we got home, reflected, and were off.


Alehouse was the place to be seen by every millennial in the city.

We ended the night at Mosaic:

The Vegas of the Midwest.


Sunday was rough.

Dolly attacked my calf, the BBQ place we wanted to go was closed, and it started raining.



I did get to inhale some mac & cheese before I left, and attempted to buy a Baldwin hat, but the guy assisting us, seemed to be struggling as much as we were.



Thanks, @lexisutter for the great trip, and shout out to all the @uber drivers for making our rides so weird.





Snaps For Sonoma

“How old are you turning this year? 32?”

I nearly passed out.


No, this was not a joke.

Sweet mother of pearl.

Get the dermatologist on speed dial and call me an UBER to Bedford Dr.

I considered throwing myself onto Wilshire, but realized I would miss out on the numerous birthday activities I had scheduled (Rufus, and brunch) in honor of my increasing age.


While some thought I looked mature for my age, others treated me as a pre-teen peasant, which is OK on most days, but not on my DOB.

I love eating.

In fact, it is my favorite hobby.
Allegedly, one of the best places to eat in Santa Monica is at Capo.

Jordan surprised me, and made a reservation there on night one of the birthday festivities.

To say we were treated poorly in an understatement.


After reservations were made at 8:15pm (on a Thursday), we didn’t sit down until 8:45, and didn’t have dinner until 9:50.

I’m all about a long dinner, especially when wine is involved, but our waitress who didn’t even entertain us with a hint of hospitality commanded:

“Which wine did you pick?”

No greeting, nothing.

We may as well have been at McDonald’s.

Except the cost was McDonald’$$$$ with a French burgundy.

Tears were shed during the dessert soufflé, and 27 was not turning out the way I planned.

My wonderful boyfriend planned a nice evening and it was dampened by the service.


I’ll continue with the positive.


We shuffled to K-town for Rufus, and woke up on Saturday to a beautiful but BURR day in Brentwood, and hit Montana for my favorite breakfast on my DOB.


We bopped to Sonoma Wine Garden, and let me just say, it was



Take note, Capo.

Best staff, host, waiter. #snapstosonoma


I had my flowers brought in by the talented artist Michelle from the Larchmont Village Florist, and all was grand on Saturday, December 3rd.


We met up with Carms and Hone for the tuna cones and my all-time favorite smoked salmon pizza, and once again, I felt like a stuffed turkey.



On Sunday, We made it to HP, trimmed the tree, and hung out with G.



Bailey attempted to steal the spotlight from me by lunging for the cheese ball, but was unsuccessful.


While there’s still a sting with the number, I feel #blessed by all of the love I received on my DOB.


Thank you all, for making it that much nicer getting old AF.




p.s. Thank you Carms for the Nespresso.

Hunger Hangover

Effective November 8th, I have been a frenzied holiday vacuum, consuming all festive food items.


I have not stopped eating.

It was Friendsgiving that kicked off the month long food coma, and I have been a stuffed turkey ever since.


The winter coat is on.


To add an extra layer, I have been sick AF, AND it is starting to get below 70 degrees outside.



The ultimate-

Oh sorry, I got distracted because a Pizza Hut commercial came on.

That new three tier pizza box seems like such a good idea.

The ultimate meal of the season, #thanksgiv was fabulous partially because of the entertainment at the event.


My dog Bailey is out of control.

Usually he is stealth; Flipping over trays of food after the room has cleared.
From tin foil to turkey, nothing stops him from getting his food.


Bailey decided to lunge at the cheese ball in front of the entire party.

The cheese ball is a sacred and secret recipe, that only few members of my family have access to.

Yes, that is how coveted the recipe is.

Bailey disregarded any social boundaries, and went all in on the food.

The sad thing is, I saw myself in my 85 pound yellow lab.

This is how I’ve felt since November 8th.


DGAF, and hungry.

Perhaps it is because I am once again in denial of my increasing age.

With my birthday this week, there will be no gold foil numbered balloons.


Perhaps, I will purchase the balloons, except instead of listing my age they’ll spell out my alter ego with the winter coat.


Hungry AF.





Election 2016

Giggles does not get political.

I leave that to my brother and dad to duel out their opposing party views at nearly every family event.


Especially when margs are involved.

Then it gets heated, and occasionally entertaining.

I usually like to sit back, sip my drink, and observe.


As I sat there on November 8th, watching the popular vote for Hilz grow, but the Electoral votes for Donald increase, I felt disheartened (I also have never wanted to attend a Beyonce concert so bad to take out my frustration).

How could this be happening?

Wasn’t this supposed to be a sweep for team Clinton?

Wasn’t Bill supposed to have first lady duties?

Why was the entire map red?!


I thought my silver fox/ fave debate moderator, Anderson Coopper, would offer some condolences to the country.

Instead, Van Jones stole the night.

His eloquent monologue had me almost in tears.



I am not an expert on politics, policy, or party but I think I have a pretty decent moral compass.

From Billy Bush, to the People Magazine writer, this election was not a media interpretation.


This was an election that benefitted from narcissism and sensationalism.

However, after such an incriminating campaign, we will all need to accept Donald Trump as our president.


On Wednesday, when the mood was somber and sad, I kept hearing Sully over the loudspeaker, “brace for impact.”


While I felt despair and disbelief on the outcome of the election, I also felt empowered.

Empowered to lean in, and change what America deems as acceptable, and electable.

While Sully stuck in my head all Wednesday, I have a new motto with my new mentality.

I’ll end with the below.

“Alright, ladies now let’s get in formation.”


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.





%d bloggers like this: