morrisina - you leave so much out...

***picture it***


Morris is so intrigued by this ep of gossip girl that she just cannot give bullets 4 and 5 the attention that they deserve. Morris pretends not to like GG but, it's clear from her post that that is nothing if not a lie. The pure lack of factual information says that her crush on Chuck Bass is even more intense than mine...which is VERY hard to believe. (Chuck, I'll see you in 45 minutes in my dreams)


Lobster Sunday:


San Francisco is NEVER sunny...like never. So when we get a forecast of 75 degrees, we're stoked. We start planning the beach barbeque's on Tuesday, start shopping for our sundresses on Wednesday, plan the menu on Thursday, grab the booze and someone (not me!) gets up early to steal a picnic table from the 1 year old bday party on Saturday. It's something to look forward to, BBQs at Ocean/Stinson/Baker Beach are awesome when the weather is right. Saturday it was right!


Morris, Stewgs (the roomie) and I got ready, we snagged the twelver grab bag of beer - 3 long hammers, 2 red stripes (thanks lil), 6 PBR bottles, and 1 coors light CAN and start walking. We all brought sweaters, because its never as hot as the weather men, weather woman?, weather person? weatherites???? say...but we're DYING of a heat stroke, and Stewgs says "Garbanzo!! MY DOGS ARE BARKIN'" which apparently means she's got blisters from the Kate Spade boots she wore last night. Soooo, we head on down to the Safeway and call a cab.


Cab driver picks us up and we're like "Oh HI!! Can you please take us to Crissy Field" - Chrissy field, literally 1.5 miles away. I am SURE the cabby was thinking, "great thanks..you can just leave that $4.50 on the seat." So we're screeching and cackling in the back seat when we realize we have passed the part of Crissy where we normally have BBQs. So we say, and I admit with a snide undertone, "um, you've passed Crissy Field!" to which the driver replies "Crissy Field spans this whole stretch, I though you were going to tell me but you didn't" which totally enrages us, and we just say "THIS IS FINE" and we get out maybe .2 miles from the CF we know and love. We walk down to where we think our friends are...and CANNOT FIND THEM. So I call the organizer and he informs me...they are ON THE OTHER END OF CF. The fucking driver was RIGHT and KARMA makes us walk .2 plus 2 miles down the other direction for a total of 2.2 miles to the party. (woof woof)


We arrive, approximately 2 1/2 hours after we left the house. I am instantly more hungover than I have been in a while. It must be a combination of the heat and the actual hangover...but I had to lay down immediately when I got there. I was totally out of it...which is why these things happened:


1. I immediately out Stewgs who, I might add, has NOT known these people for very long for not coming home last night. Sure I was hungover, but I think (secretly) mostly I was jealies because I was home in my clean sheets and she was knockin' boots on the town. Unfair...I looked cute last night TOO God Damn it!!!! :( :( :(
2. (And this is when you realize I really must have had it out for Stewgs) I totally steal her joke!!! In a time when a great joke can seal her fate in a relatively new group of friends...I take that joke and pass it off as my own. Yes, bitch move..sure, sure. You remember when I mentioned we had the 1 Coors light...mile 1 of 2 Stewgs noticed that lone ranger and pointed out that "only one person could tap the Rockies." Luckily, Morris was there to blow up my spot and gave the street cred to Stewgs.
3. One of the dudes in the group had run from SOMA (South of Market - for locals) to Crissy Field, this is SERIOUSLY like 7 miles. That's a lotta miles before a day of drinking beer and eating hot dogs. In fact, the thought of it makes me want to yammy. Anyway, he arrives...and I immediately notice his hair is ORANGE. It's orange and I decide to yell it out to the group "**** YOUR HAIR IS ORANGE!" Stewgs and Morris were dying of embarrassment and my non-filter..................standard.


This day ended at 9pm, me and Morris leaving a roof deck wandering around...trying to find my apartment. Lost in the Marina...never Safe!

SEVEN DIMES:

Very few people know about 7 dimes. 7 dimes is an age old bet (actually 7D started in the early months of 2008). Now is not the time to unveil the true 7D bet, but maybe someday just maybe. What is notable about 7D1 is that nobody won...EVERYONE lost. It was a time sensitive bet and nobody won. Who gets the money? I mean, that is AT LEAST $4.90 just hanging out in my wine rack. That is where we usually keep the dimes - mid bet. Anywhoodle, bullet point 5. Morris came over for a little stir fry tonight and after we watched Jeopardy, we decided to throw down a little wager on Wheel of Fortune. 7 dimes. Me, Stewgs, and Morris - that is 21 dimes/210 pennies/2 dollars and ten cents of pure bet. This is embarrassing even before I mention we were drinking sparkling rose. Yes. Three girls, one bottle of sparkling rose, and Pat Sajak. Could you really ask for more? I think not!

A Decoupage of Awk

hi everyone. it's been a while. i'd like to say that a lot has changed but, unfortunately, the decoupage of awk that is my life has just continued down the same twisting, uncomfortably awkward path. here are the highlights:

• i ran into the store manager at my work coming out of the bathroom. he questioned when we were getting some items in, i responded, then headed into the bathroom. it wasn't until i was sitting on the toilet, and i had a moment to think, that i realized that HE had been coming out of the bathroom meant for SHES.
• i ran into tubular at a mutual friend's bday party. between "i've been really busy" excuses and asking me 5 times how i am, the convo was so awk that i decided it would be far better to sneak out the back entrance and leave my credit card in order to avoid facing him again. good news, i got my card back today after work and met a smokin' hot bartender who works there. shaaaa-wing.
• i got tag-teamed. by a lemon drop and a beer. lemon drop was accidently dropped from tray onto my chair (and all over my a$$) at above party. full beer was accidently dropped onto my lap at silver cloud. accidently... im just going to keep telling myself that.
• i suffered an unfortunate sunburn this weekend. while it has allowed me to excuse my absence at the gym tonight (sports bra + burn = major payne), it has made me question the length of my hair as i have a white stripe down my back from my ponytail.
• I just lost seven dimes in a competitive viewing of wheel of fortune.

My advice for the week:

"If you're robbing a bank and your pants fall down, make sure you laugh and let the hostages laugh too because, come on, life is funny."

xoxo (FML),

Morris

the battle of the G squared

i love gossip girl AND i love gilmore girls...am i the only person that sees the parallels? i mean, seriously...sure, Rory and Laine read books and listen to records in Laine's mothers antique shop while Serena and Blaire are out getting all hopped up on cocaine, killin people, and jet setting around the world. sure, Rory and Lorelei live in a quaint little house in Starshollow and Serena and Lily live in the pent house of a high rise in Manhattan. but there ARE similarities people, there just are:

They both have really REALLY hot involved mother with name that starts with L

Lorelei vs. Lily



They both have the extremely thin, grounded yet always in the midst of some turmoil daughter that goes to private school and has a trust fund the likes of which a lowly ol' Garbanzo bean like me can dream about, and incidentally both starred in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and SOTP2:

The Preppy Bitch:

Eclectic Bestie:

Good Guy/on-and-off boyfriend of daughter, whoeven though everyone knows it should work out between them it won't - due to the lack of drama. (If that's your life story can I get a "WHAT WHAT" *pause* "WHAT WHAT"):

Bad guy, who although I am sure in reality these bad boys are all of 5'4'' I still want to sleep with them....real bad:

And last but not least the dynamic duo, the rugged father/father-figure, the men from the other side of the tracks that ARE the glue that hold their worlds together all while wearing shirts that are too tight for them:

And there you have it folks! I'm glad you're with me on this one. If anyone wants to write to the WB with me, or sign my petition to do some sort of cross over ep between GG and GG please don't hesitate to contact me.

xoxo,

Garbanzo

Farmer John

The day has come, my friends. I am turning into my parents. I didn't even need to BECOME a parent to become MY parents. Its a sad sad day.

***picture it***

I am sitting in my cube minding my own business (read: eves dropping on M "training" someone on my team...who's been with the company now for errr 6 months), just doing my thing in excel, when suddenly this thought goes through my head:

"stop saying 'OK,' 'uh huh,' 'yeah' just do it"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

flash back to Big John, "Garbanzo, don't say OK just DO IT!" Wow was that one of my least favorite lines. I mean, mainly because the obvious response to that phrase is "OK." To which the reply is "don't say OK just DO IT!" And it just goes on and on and eventually ends in a spanking.

But now, I get it. I am sorry dad. I'm sorry for just saying OK, I know, Yes, OK because the fact is, if I knew I would not have done the thing that you're mad about in the first place. The same is true, today in my office.

You would not be getting this training, sir, if you KNEW WHAT THE HELL YOU WERE DOING. So stop saying OK, just shut up and listen to what she is trying to tell you. She is trying to save your job, because although you are a sweet boy...you better believe that your ass would be out the door in a hot second if we weren't in this "trying economic environment" (hiring freeze) and we need someone to do the brainless work you (and I) were hired to do.

The good thing about this transition from Garbanzo the easy-going, cheerful, lovely young woman to Garbanzo the old wretch that knows it all is that IT'S ST. PATRICKS DAY and I'll probably have the opportunity to say "I'll give you a reason to cry" later on at the bars...and that was another Garbanzo family gem!!!!

Leprechauns and rainbows,
Garbz

take that sheriff kurt...

last weekend on the hity...

********picture it********

friday night. north beach. the streets are absolutely packed with d-bags and slutas who traveled through the tunnel for a night of fun. garbanzo, c-money, myself, and a handful of other legit sf homies make the trek through the crowds to savoy...

several memorable things happened over the course of this night. thankfully, the biggest moment of all is documented on camera but for purposes of remaining anonymous, i will not be posting the photo. some key moments:

1) c-money finally learned how to use an atm after 500 attempts.
2) m-dizzle confronted the boy who viewed her facebook profile at work and announced to everyone that they had hooked up. "fucked her, fucked her, sweet bj junior year, fucked her..."
3) i was hit on by an attractive looking young man by being passed a note on a napkin that said "you're pretty. i have a crush on you. do you have a crush on me? check yes or no." being the creative beast i am, i created my own box that read "maybe. curve ball". don't worry folks. he didn't graduate from college, has no job (but is creating his own website), and lives at home with his parents in marin. i wish i could take the napkin back and check no. STRIKE ONE.
4) i called the bartender out who once asked me why i was staring at his crotch. he then asked for my name by saying "how am i supposed to ask you out if i don't know your name". garbanzo happily told him my name. i ran into him on the street yesterday. he fumbled with his phone explaining that it was dead but he wanted my number. i told him that he better hurry home to charge it. that was good and awk. STRIKE TWO.

and just when i think strike three and an out are inevitable, it happens. a homerun. i was crowned SFPD JUNIOR COP!!!

that's right. after nearly being arrested for drinking my beer outside of the bar so i could enjoy it while i smoked my cig, i asked officer jim if i could try on his hat. OJ was so excited that he walked right into the bar, put the hat on my head and stuck an SFPD sticker on me. no, this sticker did not come from a full roll that he had in his pocket to give out to drunk girls. i was obvi the ONLY junior cop of the night.

soon after, we leave the bar, and being the polite, bar-goer that i am, i went up an introduced myself to OJ and his friends:

"good evening officers. my name is junior cop morris. it's a pleasure to make your acquiantance. i'm new to the team and it's always nice meeting new work colleagues. have a lovely evening."

what i should've said is "the next time you see me acting like a hot mess, please remember that i am one of you. would you throw your mother in the drunk tank?"

that being said, the weekend continued in hot mess fashion. while i, thankfully, did not end up in the drunk tank, i definitely deserved to. i have officially decided that i am going to follow through with one new year's resolution and am taking a much needed break from the social circuit for at least a week. please stay tuned for next week's posting about my crackin' sat night at home with my mom which will be spent drinking chardonnay and watching foreign films.

xoxo,
(future) lady morris

FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE

***Picture it***

20 kids (kids = people ages 21-37) dressed in Lacoste polos, argyle, tall socks, pearls, visors walking around the city blacked out during the G rated hours of the day.

Last weekend on the hity:

I don't know what recent college grad came up with pub golf, but God bless him. He is no doubt an ex - SAE, probably in finance (says it like fah-nance), lives in a big city but not NYC where he'd actually BE in the office on Saturday, misses dress up parties almost as much as he misses blacked out sorority girls. One might wonder, who would fall for this deliciously mapped out trap? Well, Garbanzo for one.

Being the upstanding mature woman that I am, I told "Shooter McGavin" (the man with the score cards, whistle, and timer), I don't want to subject myself to a game in which I have to be known as "the caddy" - yes boys were "players" and girls were "caddies." I told him, that I would attend the pub crawl, but I had a couple other obligations later in the day so I wouldn't be able to participate in the game. You know, I only want to have 5-6 drinks during the day not 10-12. You can't say I don't have good intentions, you also can't say I don't lie to myself everyday about my ability (or lack thereof) to control myself. Within 4 minutes of arrival at bar 1, I have a partner on my arm and a tequila shot in my hand.

...quiet please... tee off

Long blog entries are kind of my thing, but I am going to go ahead and try to bullet the events to save time. The formatting of this blog is entirely for your convenience and not at all because I only remember flashes of the day...

-bar 1: find a great partner and take a tequila shot
-bar 2: make the owner give me a t-shirt for free, which (after I finish my Long Island Ice Tea) I throw on over my yellow BrooksBrothers polo
-bar 3: say no to the bartender who offers up a free t-shirt if I remove both other shirts (LUCKILY) I tastefully decline. I take my car bomb, juggle three golf balls, and head to the bar 4 - without my credit card. This is not a good sign
-bar 4: order my gin martini (yep, we're going for holes in 1 EVERY time) go to pay for it, realize I forgot my card and head back to bar 3
-bar 3 revisited: i pay for my drinks, (not as tastefully) tell the bar tender, I'll be back after a couple more holes (read: drinks) to "earn my shirt," leave (LUCKILY)
-bar 4 revisited: this is one of the holes where you can lower your score by taking your drink *gin martini and also doing a body shot. BUT OF COURSE. walk up to a complete stranger, take my body shot, tell Shooter "LETS GO!" he reminds me...my gin martini is still waiting for me. SHIT. Double SHIT because I decide to be "badass" and I take it like its a shot and roll out.
-bar 5: partner and I walk into bar before everyone else, basically we run there. we go into the bar, sit on the stools, and i say to the bartender "I will PAY you to give us two empty shot glasses with lime" and hand him a ten spot. Some call this cheating, I call it genius. my last encounter with soco didn't end so well...it ended pretty well for my friend steve though.
-bar 6: friend carries me over his shoulder to the bar next door, where I must have had something to drink but have NO idea what.
-bar 7: shon theee wahy two that bhar i whhent store buy cigarettes. needs them. NOT COHERENT. TOTALLY INSANE. text my partner "are you still at x-bar?" time stamp 6:05pm. i know because i just checked my outgoing texts. stumble there, there are pictures of same friend from before carrying me around the bar...apparently i took my shot.
-bar 8: this one i remember. ONLY because it was another body shot. Yeppers. I took a BODY SHOT of tequila off some rando-dude in addition to my mai thai. I feel like I did something really embarrassing at this bar..but whatever it was escapes me now. Surprisingly.
-BAR 9: This is the last bar. Where my partner and I take the final shot to win the tournament. The photos show partner and me, laying down on the ground and on tables accepting our trophies (yes TROPHIES...i told you SAE). WINNERS - don't tell anyone about the genius idea from bar 5. thanks.

What to do, WHAT TO DO? I know, lets go to another bar...across town. I had the good sense to walk into the next bar and walk directly out without saying goodbye to anyone, and heading to taco bell.

Let me tell you, Taco Bell circa 9pm, blacked out, alone...dark, DARK place.

xoxo.
Garbanzo - detoxing