well, you're in the wrong place.

Last night, I was winding down with an episode of “Say Yes to the Dress.” It’s not that I enjoy the show, but if it’s on, I’ll watch about fifteen minutes’ worth. (My pleasure in watching this show is the same pleasure I got out of “John and Kate Plus Eight” – it’s a fabulous train wreck.)

I just finished screaming out my frustration at the women who were spending six thousand dollars on their dream dress (YOU CAN’T EVEN PEE IN IT BY YOURSELF!) when the commercial break started. A white background with black text and a catchy tune playing in the background flashed on the screen:

Lisa and I finally managed to meet up for the long promised “Girls’ Night Out.” Her schedule was always crazy busy (it happens when you’re a doctor saving babies), and I was still in between jobs. It was a miracle that a date popped up right when I got a job close to her home. When I told her that we should meet up one of these days after I finished work, she suggested meeting up the following week.

We decided on going to Osteria La Buca. She told me the pizza was really good there, so that’s what I ordered. She had ravioli stuffed with lobster. Like all girly dinners, we dished about dating, the gym, clothes, shoes, and the cardio we’d have to do to burn off our dinner.



Lisa was preparing for a bikini-ready body, as she was going on vacation shortly. I knew this, but since we’d already eaten bread and pasta and cheese (not to mention the two or three glasses of wine each), I figured we might as well live it up. It was a special occasion: after nearly a year of planning, two girls winding down after a long day at work. The waitress stopped by our table and asked if we’d like to see the dessert menu. Lisa was hesitant, but I said yes. Our original Girls’ Night Out plan consisted of us eating ice cream and bitching about guys we’ve dated.

“I have to be able to get into a bikini,” she said.

“I haven’t seen you since the summer. Plus, if we split it, it won’t be as many calories,” I said.

We ordered something that was like chocolate pudding. We each took about two bites before throwing in the towel. It had been a great night.

We walked outside and gave Valet our tickets. Her brand new Acura showed up first, with my car following. We hugged each other, and I told her that I wanted to have a drink with her before the year was over. She nodded, smiled, and got into her car.

It’s weird how the simple act of sharing dessert is now one of my most precious memories. When I received the news of Lisa’s passing the next day, I was crushed. The fact that our dinner was the last thing she did was a terrible memory for many months after. It’s only been recently that I’ve been comfortable knowing we had fun, and that my last moment with her was a happy one.

But you know what really makes me happy? The fact that I talked her into having dessert.

Calexico at the Fonda Theatre. What better way to spend my Wednesday night?

Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be.

I had made plans with the Veggie Boyfriend the night before to go over the game plan: I’d pick him up between 7:15 and 7:30, and then we’d head over.

At 7:20, night of the show, I’m at the VBF’s house. I text him: “I’m here.”

Five minutes pass. I call him. Maybe he just got out of the shower and hasn’t bothered checking his phone. No answer.

Another five minutes pass. I text him: “Did you fall asleep?”

Another five minutes pass. I call him again. Same result as the last call.

Ten minutes pass. His neighbors must think I’m lurking. I call again; no answer. What. The. Fuck.

It’s almost 8:00PM. I don’t know how bad traffic will be if we don’t leave soon. I’m annoyed at this point. I call one more time, but there’s no answer.

At this point, I want to just go home and curl up in bed. But I also really want to see the band; the last time I saw them was at least three years ago. Plus it’ll be a crowd of indie peeps – I should be relatively safe in that crowd. And I’ve got Twitter to keep me company.

So I drive off, severely annoyed. Somewhere between the Westside and Mid-City, I go from being angry to a little worried: what if something happened? What if something bad happened?

I arrive at the Fonda, and the Santa Ana winds are starting to blow. It’s nothing serious, but it’s a little chilly. I get a drink at the bar and listen to the opening band. They finish a song, then stage goes dark, and small emergency lights come on. It takes me a minute to realize that the power has gone out in the theater, not a dramatic effect. The theater crew makes announcements from the stage with no megaphone (really, Fonda?). After nearly forty minutes of sitting in the dark, the show gets cancelled. Calexico comes out to play one song acoustically, with the promise of making it up later on.

It wasn’t the best night. One of my favorite bands couldn’t play, the wind had knocked out the power in the neighborhood, and I had a potential late-boyfriend. So I did what any girl in her right mind would do: I stopped by my local fast-food place, bought a chocolate malt, and drowned my sorrows in junk food.

P.S. The veggie boyfriend is alive and forgiven.

Sometime last night/early this morning (whatever you consider 3am to be), I woke up to hear the VBF say, “Oh HELL No.” This was followed by, “You need to see this.”

He was watching a horror version of “The Phantom of the Opera,” which had Julian Sands as the lead character. Because he’s nothing if not considerate, he’d kept the volume low while I slept, which meant he missed a lot of dialog but got a lot of screaming. It was partially the screaming and his “Oh HELL No” that gently shook me out of my slumber.

I’m not a fan of horror flicks, so I declined his offer. From the pattern of flickering lights in the room, I knew he was rewinding to the point he wanted me to see.

VBF: You need to see this.
Me: No.
VBF: C’mon, you love Julian Sands.
Me: I don’t do well with scary movies in the middle of the night.
VBF: Just watch it. It’ll be cute.
Me: I’m not wearing my glasses. (I was lying on my stomach and didn’t want to turn over.)
VBF: Put them on. It’ll be cute.

I knew he wouldn’t stop bugging me, so I obliged. A girl was screaming up and down a flight of stairs, desperately trying to find a way out. The Phantom (Julian Sands) discovers her; her screams increase in volume and desperation. The climax: Julian leans in and bites her tongue off.

Me: That wasn’t cute.
VBF: Did you see it?
Me: Not all of it.
VBF: You’re missing out.
Me: No, I’m not.
VBF: Why was she screaming with her tongue out?
Me: That wasn’t cute.
VBF: Aw…

He leaned in to kiss me, and I kept my lips shut. As cute as he is, I sure as hell wasn’t going to fall for that approach.

A friend of mine is getting married this weekend. Her wedding is at an awkward fashion time: 4pm to 9pm. It’s not late afternoon, it’s not cocktail hour, and it’s not black tie. This meant I *had* to go shopping for a dress. (I didn’t really, but I’m not going to pass up the opportunity.)

Anthropologie is one of my favorite stores for girly clothing. They aren’t cheap, but man…the little frills, cuts, and colors are AMAZING. The wedding was a good excuse to visit, and I had the 15% off card they give during the month of your birthday. Full priced items could be taken into consideration with this coupon. I was excited.

Five or six dresses later, I walked out of the fitting room with two maybes and the rest as go-backs. I was disappointed. I gave the sale rack a quick glance, and discovered this dress:



I was thrilled. I had seen this dress in Vegas during the pageant, but it wasn’t in my size. This one was my size AND it had been marked down an additional $40. It looked amazing on. I wouldn’t even have to have it altered (unheard of for a girl of five feet). You’d better believe I snatched that dress. I even splurged on a purse and a bottle of perfume. A necklace that my cousin’s girlfriend gave me would complete the whole outfit.

Time passed, and I started having doubts. The dress fit the late afternoon time frame, but could I pull it off when it hit evening hours? Would I be shunned like Scarlett O’Hara when she wore her green afternoon dress to a morning barbecue?

And then a miracle happened: Anthro decided to hold “Anthro Day,” where members would get 20% off when they showed their card at checkout. I headed over, hoping they would have something. The first lap around was fruitless, but then this dress made itself known:



I tried it on. It was perfect. It worked for all hours that the wedding and reception would fall between. I wouldn’t have to dig out my low-cut convertible bra. It’d help bring out the color of the Veggie Boyfriend’s eyes if we had to pose together for pictures. And it would be 20% off.

I figured I could wear pearls with this dress, but the bride-to-be posted this necklace on her Facebook page:



The urge for something sparkly around my neck hit me like a big rig, but I didn’t want to wipe out my budget. I lucked out at Forever 21 (or Forever XXI, as they now like to be called) and found this necklace for about $13:



It’s been ages since I’ve been this girly. Since it’s so close to the wedding, I won’t have time to do another outfit change. At least I hope I won’t find time for another outfit change. ;)

P.S. This has been sitting in my drafts for a few days. I ended up buying an evening clutch and a couple of shades of eyeshadow. :/