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On the day you were born

I remember wanting you here before you got here, my sister, my other half. I knew Mom was having a girl, I just knew it even though I was only eight. They were sure you were a boy and even had a name picked out for you and everything, but I knew, you were my sister.

Sometimes Mom would fall asleep and I would read to you while you were kicking it in the MomCondo. You probably don’t remember that, you were all fetal and shit at that moment but I knew you were coming out of there.

When Mom went into labor with you she and I were grocery shopping, her water broke at  Food For Less (classy, this family) and Mom, being Mom even asked me if  I could drive home. Well no, I couldn’t, I was 9 but we got home and Mom was Mom up until the minute you came into the world.

My grandma woke me up to talk to y(our) dad on the phone that night and they told me I had a little sister (duh, I knew that) and later on I helped Mom name you.

I helped Mom with your baby book because she hates her handwriting. You were “mine” from the minute you showed up, even when you threw yourself off the porch or cried like a lunatic constantly. I was there when you said something for the first time, when you stopped pooping in your own drawers, all that. It was me and you.

Because you were a mean little shit when you were a kid you and your friends used to wake up hella early on sleep over party weekend nights and climb all over me in bed and beg me to unleash the Pepsi or cookies or whatever it was that Mom said you couldn’t have and just to get you little shits to stop bothering me, I’d do it. But I also used to stage some pretty dope games of “pretend” for you and your friends and Barbies and whatever unwilling participant was around. We made a movie once with your best friend and you guys were the best (worst) actors in the world but it was super fun.

You went to college in the town I lived in. You met your now husband there and I remember the phone call, when you were still new and nervous at life, about if you should go on a date with this guy and I listened to you tell me all the nice and wonderful things he did for you and told you a million times, yes, go out with the boy, if he sucks, don’t go out with him again and I’ll have him killed.

You went out with that boy.

You married that man. You got an amazing second (or in our case third family) I cried through the whole thing because you feel more like my daughter than my sister. And it’s always felt like I’ve known your husband and his family my whole life. Like when I met the lot of them on your graduation day I felt like they were my family too.

And so today, my darling, my bowling ball head, the absolute true love of my life who isn’t a cat, is your last day in the town your fell in love with your husband in and ironically the apartment complex you used to live in. And you, my darling, my fearless, elegant, seriously insanely smart and perfect baby sister, my baby… you’re off to another state and I am sad, because I will miss you. I hate that you’ll be too far to see whenever I want. I hated that when I left this area the first time. But I know you’re in good hands (your own, although you husband does make me feel like at least there is another set of eyes on you, because if anything happens to you, someone’s getting seriously injured) and you’re moving to a wonderful place and I am no more than a text message/phone call/facebook post away and if anyone looks at you funny, you know I’ll be there in like less than 10 minutes, space, time, physics be damned. Ain’t no one gonna hurt my baby.

I love you and I am proud of you and I am proud of your husband, excuse me, my brother. I love you both and wish you the best in the Emerald City.


little sister



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Let’s talk about my friend Ty who will probably be embarrassed by this post

Ty Elam is a fucking god. There isn’t any way around that. In certain circles of the world my good friend Ty is made out of God. Like it may be a crazy talented, insane, tattooed kind of God that made  Ty for the Earth to enjoy but who cares? He’s here, he’s full of some of the best stuff on Earth. I don’t care if we mail ordered him from Russia (who wouldn’t let another good amazing crazy friend of mine in the country recently, but that’s neither here nor there) Ty rules.

He is for one an amazing nice friend. He has no problem calling some blogger who shall remain nameless’s best friend on her birthday at 3 am best friend’s time. Because that’d be weird as poop if someone asked him to do that, right? No one would ever ask him to do that… like ever……

Ty photographs incredibly well. Like it might be a gift from that weird God thing we were talking about a minute ago but holy mother of let me scan all the cool shit I took pictures of in college, Ty Elam is a gorgeous motherfucker in front of the camera. Like it’s like he KNOWS he’s doing the right things and just keeps doing them while being rad. Here are some examples of how good he is at this:

I hate this camera with the firey passion of 200000 suns

Funny story, even though this camera almost got me arrested, mugged, etc I still took all of these without a flash

A magician never reveals her tricks… or really remembers them. But I remember how I did this.

Interesting and funny anecdote, at one point in the beauitful and weird city of Bakersfield, I was for a second cool enough to bring these guys out on stage a couple of times. The most memorable being the show they did at my college. Even now I’m not sure why that particular cloud of OMG WOW BAKERSFIELD DOESN’T SUCK THAT MUCH went off at my school but I took these too:

Ty being all Rollins, because as Hank says, who’s as hard on you as you are on yourself?

Wait is that my good buddy Kris Khols and my other surprisingly good friend Mavis? Anwsers point to yes. Also these were a disposable camera

Before I ran out of film and started using the disposable like an asshole

My friend Ty here is a talented song writer and a front man I’d put up next to just about anyone. He’d slay em. I LOVE his current project (or reproject, since some of you get all weird and technical) Karmahitlist. I’ve been listening to their new demo nonstop since I got it from another band member who I also used to work with. Let’s share:

And then just because I miss Ty (and my old red Neon) and my friends from that era, here’s a few more, why not?

Why wasn’t this song a massive hit? I mean even as a programmer it blows my mind. I want to play it all of the time. I can’t of course but I want to:

The thing about this record is it never had ANYTHING to do with who was in it. It was just a good song. And would be a good song still if someone gave it to me blind box style today. This song came out in 1999. I can’t tell. Except I was THERE.

Speaking of shit that was my jam back in 1999 when anyone cared what I had to say, this song was my heart. I don’t even think I’ve ever fully explained to my friends who created such a fantastic song how much this song meant to me.

But just for old old old timesy, while I was in high school’s sake, let’s really pull out the amazing skeletons and dance and be excited because we were there:

Hey anyone remember Cradle of Thorns? They are only one of the best bands to ever come out of Bakersfield, California:

Man, Cradle’s live show used to just terrify you. Way back in 199-whatever. I want to say it was the Offspring where one of these charming men almost pulled a chandielier out of the cealing at the Casa Royale, but it could have been any show. Except for the show with the pig’s head. That headliner I would’ve remembered. Maybe.

Karmahitlist is fucking rad as fuck and I want them to do some great things. Please support them by going to their Facebook and liking them.

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So earlier today I was looking through old journals trying to figure out when the last time I spoke to a person who requested me on Facebook last night was. It was almost ten years ago. About 9 to be exact. And I realized the last time I spoke to this person was about the time I moved to San Luis Obispo.

It’s hard to believe now that it’s almost been 10 years since I packed up and moved out of Bakersfield. I remember being very frustrated at not being able to find my way around SLO and being annoyed that I’d have to drive like 15-20 minutes to go a big box store for various things I was used to being able to scurry down to the corner for. I remember being annoyed by parking meters and also how I was so sure I was never going to make any friends and I was just going to hate it. And maybe I did for about a year. Maybe not even a year, I really can’t remember.

Because even when I hated it there was this:

Oh hello Avila

And eventually I did finally make friends. Lots of friends. And I got to work at two different radio stations that I loved in different ways and eventually got to live at that beach for a couple of years. I had a good life there and I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing it. I don’t think anything could replace that time in my life at all if it tried.

I’ve been “homesick” a lot lately because the weather here is changing and I know it’s just gorgeous back “home,” and all I want is to have appetizers on the patio at Ricks with my friends or bloodies at the Black Sheep or just drive through the hills near Wild and marvel at how green it is. That’s one thing I’m proud of is I never lost sight of how beautiful that area is and how special it is.

The thing I’m trying to not lose sight of now is that it did take me a couple of years to build that kind of love and friends there. I will have been here two years in June, so Chico may have it’s chance at capturing my heart yet….



someday you will be loved…

This is a happy gal

Oh San Luis Obispo…

I am leaving you again in a couple of hours. I will try not to cry. This place has been so amazingly kind to me. I saw EVERYONE that I wanted to see, even if only briefly. I spent a magical day with my best friend Tristan. I saw my other BFF Teresa. I saw my everyone. I just…

Man this place, I miss more than I miss Bakersfield. If I could just export my parents and a hand full of friends to the coast, I’d never go to Bakersfield again, unless I wanted Basque food. Because here’s the thing, SLO was my first “adult” home. I lived on my own here for the first time, I mean REALLY on my own for awhile too. No roommates, very little help, I did that for a long while here. I had my home. I had my first two “adult” (and really this is subject to opinion) relationships here. I in a sense grew up here.

Its a gorgeous time of the year here. Sure its a little cold and wet but goddamn its pretty. And green. And the ocean is still here. I mean no one put a giant pool cover on it while I was away. It’s all still here. My heart is still here.

Some day I may come back for good. Until then I will be content visiting it, it does make an excellent second home.


Chico bound by 1pm today…. I miss my cat.

at black sheep



11 am on a Monday morning

I’ve changed so much in this past year its hard to recognize the me I was just 365 days ago.

Things in my little world went completely haywire last year around this time. Like batshit bonkers. The only places I ever felt like “myself” were at work where despite everything that was going on, things were awesome and when I was hanging out with Teresa and Nicole or Tristan because they were the only people I told EVERYTHING to. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust my other friends who knew bits and pieces of the story, but because I didn’t want them to feel pressured to help me figure it all out.

I was talking through a deal to move out with a friend of mine when this job call came down. A lovely gal I knew from downtown SLO and twitter of all places had a room for rent in her house and we were discussing the specifics of it. Like when I would move in, how much it was, her kiddlets, etc. And right as I was going to pull the trigger and do it, my unemployment got cut off and things just seemed so hopeless. So I buried myself in the only way I knew how… my show on Wild, heaps and bounds of barter spots and asking my boss pretty much daily to teach me something new. And having lunch after lunch at the Black Sheep talking to Nicole who had so many great ideas. And oodles of Happy Hours with Teresa who despite her own problems at that time would help me “put some lipstick on it,” and lent me her parents and fixed my clothes and brought me cheese and berries at the radio station when I wouldn’t eat.

And there was Tristan who was always just a text away. Even after midnight if I just needed an ear or a couch to crash on or to just act like an ass and help me forget it all for an hour or two while we drank Tecates and Jamesons at McBar and talked about the old days.

I’ve been thinking about going home this weekend. I have the scratch to do it as long as I can take care of a couple of things here financially first. I need to dip my toes in the ocean. I need to hug the people that helped me get here. I need to hit reset on my brain before the book starts. I need a vegetarian chili. I need a fish taco. I need to wish a friend a happy birthday. I need to get dressed up and go out and do things in all my favorite spots. Reset. Erase. De-stress.

Don’t get me wrong, things in Chico aren’t bad. I’ve really started to build my own little community here, even faster than I did when I moved to SLO but I used to pull this “run away,” thing all the time when I lived there too. Santa Barbara, Bakersfield, Los Angeles, Ventura… sometimes Anywhere But Here is the only place to be.


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Miss Teresa Lara

So yesterday I came back from my radio station’s ski trip. I was exhausted. Smelled bad and a bit still cold and I found a box from bloody San Luis Obispo on my desk.

I had to wait a bit to open it because I had to go to dinner and God knows I needed a cocktail after the day I had had. When I got home I opened up and found a lovely notebook with a kitty wearing headphones and playing with the radio and I found this:

Oh Hello

A little Hello Kitty MP3 Speaker. And she’s rechargeable!  Amazing! I plugged her in and charged her last night and tried her out this morning. Sometimes these mobile speakers can be touch and go but she sounds marvelous. Good quality tone, nice volume. Perfect for at your desk in the office or laying by the pool in the summer so you don’t disturb everyone else. Plus she’s so cute.

Thank you Teresa, she’s freakin’ PERFECT. I love her.

I miss my friends back home so much. Teresa is one of my many friends that always knows just what to get someone. Be it clothes, a little dodad or a box of candy or a big pink cocktail. Teresa is so good at making people happy. I don’t know how she ever doubts herself, because she’s one of the best people I know. Heart as big as all of France.

A few margaritas later...

the night after the night that dare not speak its name

the Clear Channel days... Punk Ass Bitches for lyfe!

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girls night

I haven’t had a girls night out in a long time. To be real, I don’t know a lot of girls in Chico. A couple of weeks ago I took Adele out for pedicures before the baby came but that’s been the extent of girls night out. I used to have these pretty frequently either with Kristin or Darcy or Teresa back home. Sometimes it’d be me and Michaela and Suzanne going dancing at the Grad or whatever. But I don’t have a lot of female friends here and I don’t know if it’s because girls are different in Chico or maybe I just don’t work with any women.

Right before the baby came I started doing happy hours with Jeremy. He’s not a girl or anything but he’s my closest friend in Chico who is not Ben so it was always fun to go grab a beer with him across the street from the station after work and gab about the station and our respective lives. Not exactly someone I can talk bloatedness and mood swings with (although I’m sure he’d understand) but a friend. So that’s nice.

I imagine part of this too is that I’m in a still pretty new relationship, although it doesn’t feel new. So Ben and I spend a lot of time together as well. And Ben is great because I can honestly tell him anything and it’s like “Hmm okay well how can I help you fix this? Or is this one of those need a hug and a treat problems?” (No really he kind of talks like this sometimes)

The biggest part of course though is that it’s just not hanging out with girls that I miss, it’s that I miss MY particular friends. Teresa was my life raft the last year of my time in SLO. I never could’ve made it through the millions of things that went wrong without her. Especially this move. Especially that other thing. None of it. And Kristin was my rock. Always there with a glass of wine and a good book to take my mind off of things and always willing to listen or just help me avoid things completely. And then there was Darcy who was my vault and I was her vault while we were both going through the same thing relitively speaking. Always there with a couch and a smile and a hug and a “oh fuck that,” whenever I needed it. My girls, I miss them so much.

I passed my six months in Chico mark sometime last month. It was quiet. I don’t think I mentioned it to anyone but Ben.  Maybe one of the bar tenders at the End Zone.  It still feels kind of forigen to me here. I can find my way around but there are still a million places that when people talk about where they are I’m just like “nope, don’t know.”

It all takes time. Tomorrow I guess I get to find out if all my hard work and stress was worth it when our ratings come out. To say I dyed my hair about this would be an understatement…