15 Things I haven't written about in the past 3 months

I hate to disappoint you, but with the exception of my (still most popular page hit, woof) Top 10 list of the most Badass Christmas songs, I will never write a list blog. And is it just me, or are the ever popular lists for the short-attention-span-majority getting insanely long? “77facts about…” “84 things you didn’t know about…” I think we can all just go ahead and read an article in paragraph form now. Buzzfeed is obviously getting way too big for its britches.  Well, this will be sort of a list, but I WILL NOT NUMBER IT. It also may not be 15 of anything. Writer’s block can be a real bitch and I’ve encountered it before but this time it was not due to lack of ideas, but to the horrible feeling that no subject or story was deep enough, epic enough, or antidotal enough. I swore to myself, “Tonight, on Friday, March 28^th, exactly 79 days after your last blog post, Andrea, you will update your blog.” I should mention that I have broken this promise to myself repeatedly on different dates, but today’s the day.

HAHAHAHA! Totally! Am I right?!?

Mexican Food. There’s no food that makes me happier in the world. If my bartender has been working at the restaurant longer than I’ve been alive, I know my Mexican food is going to be good. They don’t even have to get your order right (they usually don’t.) It’s beans, tortillas, and salsa in some form or another. And since the move to LA and the rise in popularity of Taco trucks, my Mexican food addiction is fully enabled.

Vegas reading material. 

Vegas. With the exception of the approximate 45 minutes that you’ve got where you’ve had enough to drink to be fully buzzed (“Let’s go to fuckin’ Chip N’ Dales and put it all on Black!”) but not throw-uppy (in the bathroom at Ellis Island right after you tried to fight a prostitute,) Vegas is the SADDEST PLACE ON EARTH. Can’t wait to go back though. Can’t wait.

The Oyster Bar at the Palace Station where I did Vodka shooters at 4am. I <3 Vegas. 

It's like I'm staring deep into my future. 

Old People. I can’t wait to be old. I just feel like my sense of humor will be appreciated so much more and people won’t question me when I say I’m going to take a nap. Also, choosing my clothing would be so much easier. It’s just a super soft polo in the color or print of your choice, a pleated polyester blend, loose fitting pant, and some orthopedic shoes, and you’ll be nailing anything from a brunch to a matinee followed by an early bird dinner without an outfit change.

Gym Jocks in Yoga Class. Today, the dude next to me really crushed Shavasana. I could tell because of the heavy mouth breathing.  The dude behind be sweat so much that it soaked the

You can breath as hard as you want, sir. 

bottom end of my yoga towel. The dude on the other side of me let out a huge, karate like, “Kiiiiiihhhhaaaaaaa” exhale every time he finally made it into a pose. Just so guys know, the louder you are in class is not directly related to how well you’re doing. But it is directly related to how soon I’ll karate chop your standing leg in the next balancing series.

Feminism. Ladies, ladies, ladies, we are still struggling. We still do not make as much as our male counterparts. We are still being accused of being emotional, irrational, and crazy. We have women who are supposed to be our leaders trying to ban the word, “Bossy” from the vocabulary instead of embracing it and saying, “So what if we’re bossy? Better listen up!” If you ask me, this “banning the word bossy” move was a huge step backward. It is irrational and if I may say so, a little bit crazy. I think if we all gave a few less fucks about what anyone else thought, we’d all be CEO’s. Which brings me to my next point….

Sensitivity. It is exhausting. It is exhausting to be sensitive and it is exhausting to deal with sensitive people. I hope no one comments on this blog. I will take offense and I will take it personally. For anyone reading this, it is not about you. Know what I’m saying? Everyone is dealing with their own shit. There is not one single person that has enough time to deal with your shit too.

Weddings. Don’t tell the wedding blog I write for, but planning a

Although this photo accurately illustrates my feelings, it is sad. 

wedding on a budget is a complete nightmare. It is unbelievably time consuming and it is seemingly a distraction from things in life that are of importance.  I can’t do a kickstarter, right? Because that would be pathetic and probably cut down on the amount of gifts I receive, right?

I always thought I was a Carrie, but I'm such a Samantha. 

Cougars. I’m not ashamed to say that the attraction I feel for younger men is getting stronger and deeper. It is likely unhealthy. It is a part of the aging process I feel like my mother should have told me about. Don’t worry about my fiancé though, he is 6 months older but can’t grow a beard and that is holding me over for now.

Blogs that tell what not to do when going to a restaurant or a retail store so not to really piss off your waiter or retail specialist. “Don’t ask for extra ketchup.” “Don’t ask if there are more sizes in back.” “Don’t ask for off menu items.” “Don’t try on a lot of clothes.” Blah, blah, whine, whine. I’ve got a lot of customer service experience in the restaurant industry and quite frankly, whoever writes these articles are probably not getting the message across to those they’re writing to. Their readers are a bunch of Olive Garden and Forever 21 employees who are reading those articles going, “Hell yeah! People are so stupid! Pay me but don’t make me do anything that might require effort or remind me of how terrible my job is! Even though my job is to answer questions and fulfill requests!” These articles are alienating if not empowering to the few assholes who don’t know how to behave in these situations.

LA. Someday I hope to be wealthy enough to create a city that looks just like LA. It has all the amenities, the weather, the sites and beaches, but the only people allowed in it will be the people that work at the amenities I require. And perhaps by the time I am this wealthy, they’ll all be robots anyway. Tonight, on my walk to Whole Foods, a skateboarder ran over my foot (and it hurt so thanks a lot, TOMS,) I saw a dead body, a homeless woman screamed at me, and I had to weave my way through a line for the “Late night with Craig Fergeson Show.” The novelty has worn off. It has WORN OFF.

21 Year Olds. Due to the fact that I work for a crazy corporation that hires fresh college graduates to manage its restaurants, I’ve had to deal with not one, but TWO Ivy League 21-year-olds in the past few weeks. Never have I heard the word, “Like” used so many times. Not since high school have I had to explain why I’m “Like, so serious looking all the time.” I try to explain to them that I have “Bitchy resting face” but that video came out before they were born. Also, perhaps my serious face is the result of constantly trying not to slap their eyeballs back into their head every time they have a realization they’re sure no one else has had before. Ever.

These are ideas. And now that I read through them, they seem like ideas for Stand-up jokes. Maybe I should be doing more Stand-up? This is my problem, I am never enough for myself. At least tonight, I have updated my blog. And if you’d like to hear any more about any of these subjects, let me know. Also, Trader Joes still sucks.