the vacation, part one: monterey, highway 1 & cambria.

The morning after that fabulous party that was held in my honor, we left for a fabulous vacation. Not as smoothly as that sounds, of course. Someone forgot to set the time back for daylight savings on the alarm clock and someone else was incredibly hungover and could barely put on sweatpants. And someone else was in full panic mode because we brought home REALLY SCARY BALLOONS from the party and she wouldn't leave the bedroom even after Justin popped them. It was quite the morning.

The 7.5 hour drive up to Monterey was largely uneventful. How did you not kill each other?!? Well, we enjoy each other's company, SURPRISING I KNOW. Even when I am pointing out everything on the side of the road like a goddamned tour guide and jabbering on about the gorgeous blooming cherry trees.

We did realize as we were deep in farmland CA that I either a.) can't read or b.) can't see. Or both. As we passed a sign that said FRESH FRUIT: PIES & FUDGE (which are not even fruit by the way so what the fuck), I proclaimed, "FIGS? Who the fuck would stop for figs?" And then later when we passed a sign for Lightfighter Road my blindass yelled, "Who the hell would fight a lamp?" Which led Justin to believe that I caused considerable brain damage at my party the night before.

And this is where I give you the Monterey summary, as to avoid this becoming a novel about my vacation.

Hotel — Best Western Plus Beach Resort. Right on the sand and totally relaxing. The dinner we had there was one of my favorites of the trip (which included the World's best artichokes from Castroville, CA!).

Attractions — Lover's Point Park & Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Foods — Old Monterey Cafe (fantastic!) and Cannery Row Brewing Co. (not bad, but a total twatty bartender).

And then we were on our merry way to Cambria, which required a drive down Route 1 (aka the coast highway). I knew it would be beautiful, and oh it so was. What I wasn't prepared for was how damn treacherous it was. Justin was in heaven. I was sweating, swearing, and clutching the door handle for dear life, like it would actually save my life should we go over the edge.

The thing is, if I don't understand how it was built, I do not like it. Who built these roads, and how? The bridges? DOES NOT COMPUTE. But it was truly amazing and I even spotted some whales (well at least their blow — shut up that is the proper term for it, not spout).

After two hours of sheer terror we reached Cambria — the sleepiest town on the west coast (seriously, everything closes at 8 p.m.).

Hotel — Mariner's Inn. Newly renovated and a perfect beachy, rustic room. They also gave us a bottle of wine when we checked in, which is totally the way to my heart.

Attractions — Moonstone Beach, Fermentations (for wine-tasting), one million antique stores (which I developed an irrational fear of) and Cambria Beer Co. The beer tasting was by far one of the highlights of the town. We met a "regular" and exchanged life stories, and we met the "mayor" who is not a real mayor because they are not incorporated so she became mayor by winning fundraisers. My new goal is to move there and claim mayorhood.

Foods — JBJ's Round-up Pizza & Grub (the only thing that was open when we arrived...but a great birthday meal!), Linn's Restaurant (a Cambria staple) and Cambria Pub & Steakhouse.

Although a quiet town with not much to do other than walk along the beach and browse the local shops, we loved it. I loved it as a child and I love it even more now. It has always been a special place to me and I can definitely see us returning many, many times and then properly fitting in with all of the adorable gray-hairs that were vacationing along with us.

Stay tuned for the vacation, part 2: the time I ruined vacation. Shit gets real.

So this mom walks into a bar...

Every few months, not nearly often enough, my mom comes down to San Diego to visit and relax. This time was extra special for two reasons: she was going to meet my boyfriend and she was lucky enough to deal with the aftermath of my little sister's car accident (she's fine, it's funny, I promise). My initial plan for when she arrived on Friday afternoon was to have a nice relaxing night drinking wine, eating mexican food, and watching Friday Night Lights. 

She raised 4 girls. She's seen it all.

Because Friday must've been International Opposite Day, instead of relaxing Friday night we ended up out in Pacific Beach at the request of my little sister's boyfriend. PB is where you go to get drunk or get laid. Not necessarily where I wanted to take my mom. Luckily, she has a great sense of humor and adventure and willingly drank beer, took fireball shots, and laughed at the skanky humans in the disgusting nightclub we ended up at.  There was also some sort of ladies soccer team there. In their soccer gear. Dancing. At one point, one of the more masculine soccer players started battling a guy on the dance floor and I (ALLEGEDLY) shouted, "Go, Lesbian! YEA!" Which was apparently the most offensive thing of the evening.

The next night after a lovely dinner in Old Town in which mom got to meet my boyfriend and approve of him (naturally), we got to help Brittany fill out her claim for her car accident. This is important because: my mom learned how to draw, Brittany learned how to spell, and Brittany learned that we do in fact live in Southern California (not Northern...seriously. We live 20 minutes from the Mexican border.)

As if that wasn't overdramatic enough, my precious JMEOWW decided to act like my mother was a third-class citizen. You see, since the invasion of the fleas (which that nightmare is finally fucking over and I can go back to being a normal human that isn't vacuuming and crying and scratching every second of the day) the meoww hasn't quite been herself.  When my mom has visited in the past, meoww has been very excited and lovely. This time, she was an absolute fucking terror.

Laser eyes prove she is not a real animal.

My mom, like a good grandma, always brings a few little toys for J. When she presented them to her, J looked at them and walked away. Like a true spoiled asshole. Then in the morning when my mom wanted to lay on my bed, J literally refused to move from the spot she was in. So I scooted her and she hissed. Naturally. Not once, but THREE times. Then she sat on the end of the bed and glared at my mother as if she was plotting her painful death. Then, because apparently she felt she wasn't getting her point across, she moved swiftly and violently back and forth between the windowsill above my bed and this nice little spot in the closet where she could keep her eyes on mom. Nice work, JMEOWW. 

After a nice breakfast and a little walk through one of San Diego's finer beaches, Ocean Beach (home to hippies and crackheads galore), mom headed home. Although it was probably not as relaxing as she hoped, it was a very lovely weekend and I truly hope that we didn't scare her away with venereal-ridden nightclubs and sociopathic animals.

Linking up with the lovely ladies of Join the Gossip, Sami's Shenanigans, and five30three for their weekend update bloghop.*

 *not featuring Jimmy Fallon, Amy Poehler, or Norm MacDonald.

Pacific Beach on Dwellable

Fancy Fridays: Let's go to the BEACH

Try and say "Let's go to the BEACH, BEACH" and not use your best Nicki Minaj voice. Not possible, right? Anyways, I have a confession to make. Actually it's not really a confession because I'm not really ashamed of it. I dislike the beach. I live in San Diego and I dislike the beach. I don't hate the beach because I appreciate the aesthetic and recreational value it offers others. I am a student of marine biology for shit's sake. I have to intrinsically like the beach. However, sand is my worst nightmare. And the sun has never been a good friend of mine. I've struggled with an interesting skin condition for years and rather than risk it, I've always chosen to take the easy way out and avoid the sun.

When I do hit the beach, it's for shopping or for the bars. One bar will typically turn into two, and you know the rest of the story. Therefore, a hat and sunscreen are absolutely essential for me, and should be for you too! The Maybelline babylips are my new favorite staple because not only do they offer just a touch of color, they also contain SPF 20. So practical and protected (and probably a little bit drunk) is how I do the beach!