7 posts tagged “liv”

My sis came to my job and took me out to lunch.  Holla!

Remember that post I just wrote about the awesome pants I'm wearing?  She's wearing the exact same ones.  In the picture below, I'm the one on the right (with my favorite ever cardigan on... I wear the hell out of this thing)... the one who looks like her girly bits can't breath.  Give us free!  (edit: i just looked at this photo after i posted it, and my hand that isn't holding my blackberry looks like it's been mauled off or something and it's cracking me up and grossing me out.  doesn't it look hecka weird?!)

same pants (me on right, her on left).jpg

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We were gonna grab soup, but it was too beautiful outside to eat hot soup, so we grabbed Mexican instead.  This place right across the street has awesome grub.  Plus, I stepped outside of my office and heard music and there was a band playing outside as part of Uptown Oakland's Summer Music Series, hosted by an awesome new wine bar called Franklin Wine Bar.

nor cal luv.jpg

the band.jpg

The food, per the usual, was delicious.

yummmm.jpg

sis chowing down.jpg

My sis just got a job near me, which makes me happy (but don't tell her...) cus we can hang!  YAY!

Today, my mom, sister, uncle, the girls and I went to Children's Discovery Museum of San Jose.  There was a Target-hosted book event.  It was an awesome day.

I'm sure I've mentioned the sheer and utter anxiety I get at the thought of going to "the club " (see definition 1). 

In fact, I had an anxiety attack at a almost-but-not-really club.  It was a high-end restaurant in LA that I went to with my brother and their friends.  First, I didn't have anything to wear.  I didn't think to bring anything fancy, so I ended up wearing a pair of my brother's khakis and one of his white, button-down shirts.  Yeah.  I don't like loose clothes.  I don't wear tight clothes, but even if I'm covered up, I need a tight-fitting tank top underneath, at the very least.  And I don't do khakis.  I don't do pants, really, unless they are jeans or they look super cute.  I'm a jeans or skirts person.  So, I was out of my element, in the clothing department that day.

We get there, and I'm standing with my brother in the lobby, waiting to be seated.  I'm looking around and there's a bar.  Up until recently, I didn't drink.  I mean, I'd have a few drinks here or there, but never thought of it as a recreational, fun thing I think of it as now.  So, being 16 (as I was at the time), I was unsure about people drinking in public (naive, much?).  It was just weird for me.  Acceptable, but weird. 

After peeping the bar, I notice that everyone is suuuper dressed up.  Not only that, but they look goooood.  Everyone.  Sharp, fancy, sexy, glossy, neat, kept up.  And then there was me.  Clinging to my brother's arm in my khakis and white, button-down shirt that weren't even mine.  I unclenched my talons from my brother's arms and excused myself from the group.  He followed me to witness my anxiety attack and he calmed me down and reassured me that the food would be good (he knows the way to my heart) and that we'd be out of there soon.  And then we were out of there, like he promised.

All this to say, my pseudocousin (read: Lorelai's dad's cousin) is turning 21 this month.  My pseudosister (read: Lorelai's dad's sister) is getting a party bus and we're going to a few different "spots" (as they're called in the club scene) and going to "get our drink on." 

And, I'm nervous.  I told my  pseudosister  not to even bring it up until the bus gets here and she can confirm a drink is in my hand to knock the edge off.  Why am I even going, you ask?  Because my realsister took me out to a bar the other night and we had a pretty good time.  Also, because I think it will be funny.  And I think I need to get over myself a bit.  And most of all: I want to dance.

I'm sure there will be debaucherous photos to come.

What am I going to wear?!

  ----------------------- 6:11 pm -----------------------
goldie: Hey. Remember when we were in tahoe at some restaurant and the place gave me runny egsgs and I cried?

olivia.: Ha! That was so over the top. I wanted to smear egg residue on your face and tell you to man-up.

goldie: Ha.
goldie: Haaaa!
goldie: That was a mere 4 years ago.
goldie: Sheesh.

olivia.: You were a grown up.
olivia.: Who needed your mom to read the description for you, and re order your meal.
  ----------------------- 6:17 pm -----------------------

goldie: I was a bit out of sorts, obviously.

olivia.: Indeed.
olivia.: I didn't know what to do.
olivia.: So I just..ate.

goldie: When all else goes wrong. When the world as you know it is crumbling around you. When your sister is melting the eff down for reasons that are indicitave of some underlying traumatic egg-related experience, eat.
goldie: Eat.
goldie: And eat some more.

olivia.: Ha!

I will never understand why people have decorative towels in their bathroom.  I NEED towels to try my hand.  I don't need them to sit their and taunt me while I shake my hands dry in vain and then succumb to wiping them on my jeans.  I won't lie.  Sometimes I used the decorative towels.  I'll use the underbelly of the top one and hope that my sister doesn't notice.  Yep.  I said it, Liv.  I USE YOUR DECORATIVE TOWELS.

It feels good to get that out.

She's awesome.  In addition to having bought me a really great ring, she's going shopping the day after Thanksgiving with me.  Something I like to do every year.

In an email exchange just now: