We Are The 80's

When one of my sister's best friends officially invited me to her 80's-themed 30th birthday bash through Facebook, I was totally in. Are you kidding me? Pass up the opportunity to dress up? Never! Plus, I already had a costume.

Personally, I hate 80's music. Maybe hate is too much of a strong word. I should say that I don't care for it. But it's not my fault that I don't appreciate synthesizers and electronic music in American pop music. I grew up with Mexican parents. I am the eldest of two daughters who had no outside musical influences. As far as I knew, Los Temerarios, Bronco, Lucerito, Juan Gabriel, Luis Miguel, Ramon Ayala, Pedrito Fernandez, Antonio Aguilar, Vicente Fernandez, Tatiana, along with everyone else who appeared on Siempre en domingo, were the only artists in the world. As a matter of fact, sitting at JT's party (short for Jackie T., only because my sister is also named Jackie and I'm trying to eliminate any confusion), my sister confessed to claiming that Spanish music was better than English music to a classmate in elementary school. That's how culturally segregated we were.

 

It wasn't until we got to middle school that Jackie and I began to listen to what our friends were, which happened to be L.A.'s KROQ and Star 98.7 radio stations. That's right. We turned out alternative rock chicks. I was in love with Third Eye Blind while Jackie lip-synched to No Doubt's "I'm Just A Girl" during a lunch competition one day. So even though I was born in the early 80's, I'd much rather put on a 90's themed birthday bash for myself. Plus, nothing  more comfortable exists than loose jeans, Dr. Martens, and of course, a plaid shirt tied around the waist.

My friend took me back 20 years recently when I modeled this for her Etsy shop.
http://www.etsy.com/shop/LaSophia

Although not a fan, I was ready to get into character for this party. The only thing missing was a hot pink lipstick which I had seen on a colleague. When she told me she'd gotten it at MAC, I lost interest. Not only am I frugal (nice word used by my coworker rather than calling me cheap) but had no intention of hitting up a mall before the party just for a lipstick. So I headed to Kmart instead and found a Wet N Wild one for a buck. My hair was another head sctratcher since it's short. Last year I was able to put it up into a side pony tail. My plan was to ask my mother to braid it into five cornrows so it would get that popular 80's crimped look. And when JT sent out a message asking for music requests, I was not without a list. I asked for Timbiriche and Flans. I almost added El General but didn't know if it was early 90's and was too lazy to check. I was ready for the shingid despite my lack of knowledge of eighties pop culture.

Before...



...After.

On me:
Dress- bought off the clearance rack from a chinito store in East L.A.
Leggings- V-generation
Shoes- BCBG from Macy's clearance (gift from Sophia), $22
Lace gloves and headband- Claire's
Earrings- neighborhood 99 cent store
Bracelets: Jackie

On Jackie:
Dress: Forever Twenty-One at Buffalo Exchange, $10
Shoes: Marshall's, also BCBG. What a coinkydink!
Tights, red feather earrings, and headband: Berkeley boutique
Rosary: neighborhood 99 cent store
Necklace: Ex-boyfriend.

JT lives in a common L.A. street--narrow with cars parked bumper to bumper. You have to be a parallel parking expert if you want to find a spot, which I am not. This is why my dad volunteered to drop us off on his way to his work holiday party. Also because JT lives about five blocks away and close to the freeway he had to take to get to his festivities. I didn't like the idea at first because I knew we were going to come home late. But he was right when he said that I'd probably be circling around for a while before I found a space. He didn't want us walking the streets late at night in our hooker attire and neither did I. So I let Jackie make the final call on his offer since it was her friend's bash we were about to attend. Jackie warned him that we might come home at one, two, or three in the morning and my dad said, "Just call me." With a consensus made, Jackie and I were dropped off by our mommy and daddy.

"Don't drink," my mom said as we got off the van.

"We'll watch you guys go inside," said my dad.

I couldn't help but laugh at their childish concern for us.

I had eaten a sope before getting ready but I was already starving. Luckily, JT's kitchen was covered in food. I grabbed a Styrofoam plate and filled it with a fried chicken leg, which I never crave, pasta and potato salad, and a small bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos. Gosh, how I craved Cheetos. They were my appetizer. I downed my food with orange Sunkist and then I ordered a Desert Sunrise that I never finished. I even filled up my red plastic cup with more Sunkist after dancing for a while. JT had covered the tables in candy. After a Sugar Daddy, Fun Dip, Blow Pop, gummy worm, and countless other sweets, my tongue burned. So I turned to Ruffles and Doritos with dip. The only positive about my food consumption was that I might have been able to keep my weight steady by dancing throughout the night. With the exception of the five jello shots I had on the dance floor, that is.

How cool is this cake, huh???



Neons, very 80's

Awesome decor

JT's mom ran the bar

Oh, yeah...

I gots skillz...and a good model.

JT got Jackie the flight tickets so she could be there for her birthday on her birthday. Confusing? Nah. 

I won a raffle! For the first time in my life, I'll hit up a Jamba Juice thanks to JT.

Bday girl, nervous after her speech

Besties since middle school

Go, Jackie! Go, Jackie! A shout-out to each of them. 

The night ended for us at 2am. The drunk girl who made her way inside the house to puke had already left, I think, only leaving the gay drunk guy that JT maintained upright like a crutch. I called my house, told my mom that Jackie and I were ready, and waited for my dad on the sidewalk. When the van arrived, I laughed at the sight of my mother in the passenger's seat. I hadn't expected her to get out of bed and come with my dad. But I knew she was curious to see if we were drunk and we disappointed.

Getting picked up by my parents at the ages of 29 and 30 was a little embarrassing, I will admit. Jackie and I were never in that situation in our teens. Rather, we were told to put our homework away and go to sleep because it was late. It's never too late, though, to act like normal teenagers instead of bookworms.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Rider Strong. After all these years, I still remember...

A Hella Weekend

The boyfriend and I flew to Oakland a couple of weekends ago for a friend’s wedding. Leo was a groomsman and we bumped into the best man at the airport en route. The best man and I switched to our Nor Cal lingo as soon as the plane landed on the wet tarmac. 

“It’s hella raining out here,” I said looking out the tiny window on the other side of the old man to my left. The not yet retired gentleman had reminded me earlier in the flight of the sinner I was for, according to my parents, "traveling as if I were married." He had asked if Leo was my husband and, with a small hint of shame, I responded  that he was only my boyfriend.  We didn't speak much after that, primarily because he fell asleep after downing a Coke and a bag of chocolates.

Anywho, the best man followed my lead by saying, “It’s going to be a hella wedding.”

“Yeah. I hope it’s not hella cold,” I replied.

We were laughing our way to the baggage claim when we walked past a stand selling tee shirts.

“I want that one,” I told Leo, reading the article of clothing that said, “Hella Tight.” 

I slowed down to a stroll, skimming the shirts to see if any of them were worth their inflated price. I've been wanting an original Oakland tee since last May when we walked down Piedmont Avenue.  That's where I saw one on a mannequin that read, “I Hella <3 Oakland,” but didn’t find my size. Instead, I had to console myself with a hot pink number with the word "Oakland" printed in navy letters from the airport--how lame. As I scanned the selection this time around, I overheard a hippie-looking customer with a beanie and flowered dress tell the seller, “That is ridiculously rad.”  I walked away laughing because I had added another authentic Nor Cal phrase to my vocabulary.

Ready to assimilate, we hit up the car rental place and drove off in a ridiculously rad new Ford Focus hatchback. There was hella traffic to the city of Lafayette where the wedding was going to take place so we didn't make it to the church rehearsal. Luckily, though, we made it to rehearsal dinner where the margaritas were so ridiculously rad that I blew fire out of my nostrils.

After helping the bride fill party favors with candy in her suite, Leo and I drove in the rain to the town of Walnut Creek where our cheaper hotel awaited us. The ridiculously rad worker had phoned Leo earlier to remind him that the office closed at 9:30. Although it was nine when we arrived, we thought the lobby had already closed because the door was stuck due to the recent paint job. As soon as I was in our room, I changed into my pj's to get comfortable only to hear that the boyfriend had an ice cream craving. I hella didn't want to go but changed my mind when I thought about taking a late night drive in the rain in a foreign town. So I threw on my boots, grabbed my umbrella, and headed to the car feeling like a child up to no good. We drove into the deserted street and passed the ridiculously rad outdoor mall someone had recently told us about, with window-shopping only stores like Neiman Marcus and Tiffany’s. Leo turned right looking for CVS since Google Maps said we had missed it. When he finally parked, I felt like Mary Poppins walking towards the store with my umbrella in my hand except I was wearing polka dot pajamas. Leo couldn't decided between two ice creams and as he paid, I found discounted candy corn from Halloween for the hella price of $.27! We walked out of there like giddish children already high on sugar.



A shout out to my sis in Oakland and my friend in El Sobrante! Woo, woo!!

We drove to the church the following afternoon where Fall was hella present. The rain had ceased for the meantime and it wasn’t as cool as I had expected. We saw a dead reindeer on the side of the road next to a construction vehicle on the autumn-like boulevard—wet streets, mostly bare branches, brown, red, and orange leaves, grey sky. We made a quick stop at McDonald’s because we knew we wouldn’t be eating again until hella late. Then we turned onto the church street where traditional American homes were tucked behind a sea of autumn leaves. After a beautiful ceremony where the groom only had eyes for his bride, we checked into the hotel where the reception was set to take place.

May God bless him, I mean them.

Once in our four-star rated hotel room, I changed into the hot little burgundy number I found at a chinito store at the mall for thirty dollars. It comes right below my ass but makes up for the length in the long sleeves. The seams at the neck and wrists have gold sequins and the sleeves have slits that reveal my arms. I kept my eye shadow neutral so I could wear rouge that matched my dress. Then I put on my Jessica Simpson strappy heels and lathered my legs with shimmering lotion for a post-summer glow. Looking ridiculously rad, we hit up cocktail hour.

Most of the guests were already in the room sampling free drinks and appetizers. I ordered the same cocktail as the girl in front of us had (I have no clue what it was but it was hella good) and we made our way to an empty table where the few people we knew started gathering. A So Cal friend stood next to me and told me that I looked very nice, emphasizing the word very. Feeling hella good about myself, I sampled chicken and a caprese salad on sticks. Then I had a ridiculously rad martini alongside a pleasant conversation with the best man’s parents about their journey from Spain and Panama to the United States. It was then that a hotel worker escorted us to the main ballroom where the party was about to get started.

My first impression of the room was that it was hella small. I searched for the dance floor because I planned on being on it the entire night, provided the music lived up to my standards. I saw the DJ so I knew the floor must be somewhere. And that's when I finally spotted the 12x12 carpetless section in the middle of the room. It was then that I knew it would be a crammed night. Leo and I found our place settings and zigzagged to the other side of the dance floor to lucky table number one. Not only were we the first ones called to grub, but the cake table was right behind us. I noticed that it also had a candy bar so I stood up to steal a gummy worm. The florist was doing last minute touches on the cake when she saw me. She noticed that I had changed from the ridiculously rad black and turquoise peplum dress I wore for the ceremony. Bent over the table she said, “You’re a teacher and you’re wearing that?”

“I’m not teaching right now, am I?” I replied, then walked back to my seat biting the head off my gummy worm.

Didn't capture the entire dress, or piece of dress, but that's all right. This way, I can wear it again for the holidays :)

I didn’t get mad or offended. Are you kidding me? It was ridiculously rad! Her words fueled my inner goddess. It was the best compliment I could have gotten.  Except that it wasn't. During dinner, another groomsman called me stunning or beautiful in front of his wife but that wasn't all. After the first half of the party, Leo and I took a potty break. When we got back, an eccentric lady in her seat stopped me by taking a hold of my arm. It was a female I had spotted inside the church with a red flower in her head and a black and white striped skirt.

“I just wanted to tell you that you look gorgeous from head to toe,” she said. “You remind me of me when I was younger.”

“Thank you,” I said with all honesty. It's a hella tight feeling knowing you made the right wardrobe choice.

We spent the rest of the evening up and down. The DJ forgot that half of the party was Mexican and only played the groom’s nineties rap for a good hour. When Leo heard a song he liked we were up, otherwise, we sat. At 10:45pm, the DJ announced that the party was over. He had actually gone fifteen minutes over his contracted time. I looked at Leo like, What are we supposed to do now? He spent a lot of money on this wedding for it to end so soon. Another couple said they were going to hit up a friend's room so we followed. It was a faux pas moment when the guy opened the door in his pajamas followed by his girlfriend without any make up on. Since the bride had told us to meet her in her suite in a while, we left. On our way there, Leo and I took a detour to our room because I was cold and wanted to change. When I came out of the bathroom in my pj's, Leo was knocked out. Faux pas número deux.

We were out of our room by 11am the next morning. The newlyweds were in the ballroom collecting their gatherings as we made our way to the parking lot. We had breakfast at a "Luke's" wanna-be diner in Walnut Creek (Gilmore Girls, look it up) and then took a stroll. I noticed EZ-Ups down the street while we waited to be seated and got excited for what I thought to be a street fair. I was determined to get ridiculously rad one-of-a-kind pieces of jewelry for a couple of females on my Christmas list but unfortunately, it was only a farmer's market. Leo then took me to Lafayette where he grabbed a soda.

It's fall there.

Ridiculously rad color!

I thought we were on our way to the groom's parent's house because he had invited us for posole when Leo surprised me by taking me to sister's instead. After taking another stroll down Piedmont searching for an "I Hella <3 Oakland" tee shirt, we chilled in her apartment for about an hour before it was time to take our hella tight ride back to the rental place.

Our trip had a hella creepy ending. A woman Leo had pointed out at the airport on our way to Oakland was awaiting the same flight home. That wasn't weird because anyone could've had business to take care of up north for the weekend like us. It was hella freaky, though, when she sat two seats away from Leo in the shuttle that took us to the long term parking lot once we were home. I whispered to him that he must know her which was why she was stalking him. But that wasn't the worst part. When the bus pulled up to her car, I noticed that the vehicle next to hers looked just like Leo's. I let the coincidence go when the shuttle started again only to stop one second later to drop us off. Leo's car was the one parked next to the woman's. I looked at him wide-eyed in disbelief. I wanted to let her know that I was on to her game so I said, "You were on the Oakland flight on Friday too, weren't you?"

"Yes," she replied. I thought I saw a smirk as she loaded her luggage into her trunk.

"Oh, were you at the wedding too?" I asked, hoping she'd say no so I wouldn't have to get the cops involved.

"No," she said, without offering any further details. See, hella creepy.

I said good night, got in the car, and told Leo to drive around in a hundred circles so he could lose her.

Our hella weekend finally concluded with a ridiculously rad meal from Taco Bell.

Until next time, Oak Town. 
*********************************************************************************

Fast forward to December 25, 2012.

Thanks, Jackie! I hella love it!!!

Talking about the Devil...

I finally used the Mt. Baldy Ski Lift tickets that I bought in July two weekends ago. It seemed like a good idea at the time: a ski lift taking you to the top of the mountain before the freezing temperatures arrived, using a $20 voucher for lunch on the mountain top, and then taking a hike. And boy was I right. I have to say that waiting for summer to come to an end had a lot to do with the success of this outing.
 

The drive to Mt. Baldy was nothing like driving to Big Bear. It's less green, more rocky, and way more winding. We practically had to come to a complete stop at each turn, or switchback, as Leo claims they are technically termed. Then, we couldn't find the ski lift because the website failed to state that it was located at the end of Mt. Baldy Road.

We passed through two tunnels on the way. Just like out of a scene from The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

After Leo exchanged the printed voucher for a pair of legit tickets, we headed up. The lift was about a ten minute ride, passing around ten towers on the way. There was a pair of ladies ahead of us dressed in casual attire and many more like them who looked like they belonged in a mall instead of a mountain. I guess they didn't know what to expect out of this trip. But Leo and I were ready. After our faux-pas at the Inspiration Point hike in Pasadena, we learned to pack three water bottles instead of two. I also packed my sweatshirt because I knew that it was bound to get cool and my hiker hat because I'd rather regret packing it and not using it than getting badly sunburned, again.

Up, up and away!

 

Two hooks, TWO HOOKS, are what holds people in place.

"You guys look like Jeep ppl"- Pops

 

We needed to fuel our systems before getting started so we headed to the restaurant to utilize the $20 coupon. We ordered two burger meals and Cokes which Leo couldn't get enough of. I, on the other hand, was kind of grossed out. The meat was leathery and tasteless. When I looked at the patty, I noticed that it was pink. Yuck! I don't do this rare/medium/medium-rare crap. I want my meat cooked until the edges are crunchy like a hard-core Mexican. So I drowned the almost string-fries in ketchup, which I never do, and immediately followed burger bites with them to balance out the nastiness. But if you're like Leo and don't mind eating raw meat directly off the cow you just shot down with your homemade arrow, then I recommend this place. I'd show you an image but I quit taking pictures of food a couple of months ago. It was part of the process to regaining my life back. I'm doing quite well now, thank you.

 

After a restroom break, we were ready to take on the mountain. But not before stopping at the scenic spot.

I want to take a deep breath just looking at this picture.

 

We started on a downward trail into the heart of the mountain. I started wondering why it was called Mt. Baldy. Leo said because there were a lot of boulders. Maybe there were centuries ago but they had all been reduced to rubble. I continued thinking outloud by questioning how places were named. I mean, one person could've called a location one thing while another something totally different. I told Leo that names probably stuck after someone put up a sign so they could start taking off. If you don't understand what I'm saying, imagine being inside my head.  

1st trail: Mt. Boulder

 

It didn't begin to smell like pine trees or Big Bear until we walked for a mile. Birds were also finally heard deep into the hike as well as physical proof of other life forms in the shape of squirrels. Something that wasn't missing in Mt. Baldy were cicaidas. If it hadn't been for their sound, we would've thought they were grasshoppers. One cicaida even guided us back up the mountain for a couple of feet.

"Into the woods, into the woods."

Leo suggested we turn back after one mile so we could tackle other trails that offered mountain top views. Hiking up to the starting point was just a little preview of what was to come. I stopped and chugged half a water bottle at the start of our next hike, Devil's Backbone Trail. While I caught my breath, I noticed that people were coming down the mountain instead of going up like we were about to.  I expressed my concern to Leo and he claimed that there was no other starting point to this trail. We had no choice but to take on what has been the hardest hike for me to date.

Going up the Devil.

 

As soon as I began to ascend, my stomach was at war with the water I had just sucked down. I thought for sure I was going to have to roll down to the restroom and rid myself of the pink hamburger. But I managed to get a handle on the situation by focusing on my breathing.

People looked like ants at the top of the mountain. When Leo said, "That's going to be us," I honestly never thought I'd make it. There were three folks coming down, one of them with a large white dog in his arms. I don't agree with taking dogs on strenuous hikes because I don't think they have the mental capabilities to endure such a workout. And the dog proved just that. As Leo and I crossed paths with the guys and the girl, the carrier put the canine down where it puked clear liquid. For that moment, I related to how the poor dog felt. The girl then took over the dog's leash and began pulling it so they could finish the hellish trail but the animal wouldn't budge. It looked sad, sick, and tired with its eyes halfway up its sockets. I think it eventually started walking, very slowly.

 

And very slowly was how I reached the end of the Devil's Backbone. The Devil  deprived me of oxygen at times, very appropriately, but I won in the end. At first, I walked on my toes in my constant attempt to gain calf muscle. But that didn't last long. I huffed and puffed when I stopped to rest quickly after I started. My heart pounded in my throat and the elevation  made it hard for my lungs to fill up with air since we had started at 7,840 feet. So I took on a different approach. I started taking long strides that squeezed my gluteus maximus instead, another area in need of help. But that was worse. One minute, I told myself, hike for one whole minute. It was an eternity waiting for the seconds hand on my watch to make its way around. I think I quit before a minute passed and almost bent over trying to catch my breath. It was like walking at a 90 degree angle. My body was practically parallel to the ground. Meanwhile, folks descending appeared to be walking at 25 miles per hour. I didn't believe they had gone up the Devil but Leo said that there was no other way up, quoting Google Maps.



Looking down from one of my resting stops. It hurts just looking at it.



I had to change my strategy if I wanted to reach the top. Taking it super duper slow seemed to be my only option. It was a strenuous mind game placing one foot in front of the other at zero miles per hour since it is very unlike me. But it was the only way I wasn't going to lose my breath anymore. And it worked. We reached the second chair lift where people will be skiing from in a couple of weeks and captured more views.

 



You can barely make out the restaurant in the middle of the picture. It's over 8,500 feet at this point.

 

Bird, a rarity up there. 



Bird, up close. I love my camera.





The end of the Devil's Backbone. Too narrow for me to continue.



Found thispicture of Mt. Baldy on the internet. It appears to be a snow-capped version of the Devil to me.

I was thankful when we found a different route down, the Turkey Shoot. I thought it'd be less steep than the Devil and was glad for a second that I was going to save my toes from bleeding. But it was pretty bad. The rocks and the dirt made the trail very slippery. I envied those coming up with hiking poles. Leo even took a run making me believe he was going to end up a rock and dirt ball. But neither one of us fell. We were back at square one with shaky legs, safe and sound after a total of only four hellish miles. We've done twice as much hiking in one day but never at that elevation. I was still very proud of myself. And ready for some soup. It had gotten cold and I was ready to sit for the rest of the evening.

 

The descend, a slip and slide of sorts.

Leo wants to head back to Mt. Baldy during the snow season to ski. I told him he's crazy. I'd rather make love to the Devil again. Who's in?

 

Pole Party... No, it's not a typo

Man, did I have a busy Saturday. I had three events scheduled in the morning, afternoon, and night. The first was a hike with the ladies from Curves. Then, I had to help Leo sell beer at the local mariachi festival. And last and most exciting, a pole party to finish off the night.

I woke up at 6:30am to get ready for the 9am hike. I don't need all that time to put on my workout attire and shoes but we did need to get there early to find a good parking spot. Since the Curves owner extended the invitation to family, friends, and pets, I towed Leo and he the dog. After a bowl of oatmeal and packing two water bottles, we were off to Mt. Rubidoux.

Curves decided to change the routine by taking our workout outside. Even though it was cloudy, most of us broke a sweat before starting the climb. It took us about an hour to reach the top of Mt. Rubidoux where we took a break before starting a Zumba session.

Leo brought Sparky who represented Curves well.

Elizabeth, me, and Lupe, our Zumba instructor, at 9am.

A hiking we will go...

A view of the city from the top

Sparky, post- hike. We all felt like this but we had to dance.

Zumba-ing at the top of the mountain. 

After the hike, we headed to Butch's Grinders. The early morning workout in combination with the lunch meal made me crash. After about an hour nap, it was time to get ready for the next event. Since I was going to accompany Leo to sell beer at a mariachi festival, I decided to rock my cowboy boots. I watched different folklórico groups perform on stage while I handed thirsty folks red Solo cups of beer. Watching the young kids made me miss my college days when I used to dance. Those were the simple times of zero responsibilities.

The good old days.

Simple times.

After two hours of standing, it was time to go. The balls of my feet hurt. I didn't know how I was going to withstand three more hours of standing in heels at the pole party. That's right, a pole party, not to be confused with a pool party because I don't know how to swim. Elizabeth and Lupe invited me to go to this girls-only event where we were going to learn how to work the pole. A costume was mandatory but my devil one is a long dress, what I assumed to be a no-no for pole dancing. And the other "sexy" costume I own is a pirate one but being that it is from Party City I didn't trust it to stay intact during the lesson. So I decided to keep it simple and dress like a sexy teacher, although it wasn't much of a costume if you ask me. I threw on my white-collar, button-down teacher shirt, my non-teacher mini skirt, and my winter go-go boots. I took off my contacts and put on my glasses for full effect and touched my lips with rouge to complete the "sexy" look. I then headed to Lupe's house so we could carpool in her van-gina, as she calls it. 

Punk Rocker, Kitty Cat, Sexy Teacher

Us at 9pm.

There were drinks, appetizers, and vendors at the party. After getting our drink and food on, Liz, Lupe, and I headed into the pole room. We all took pictures pretending to be professional dancers, of course, before the instructor commenced the lessons.

Me, before learning how to spin.

The teacher began by teaching us how to walk sexy. One foot in front of the other. Sounds easy enough. BUT, you have to walk slooooowly, which is REALLY hard to do in heels because it's like balancing on stilts.

Walking Sexy lesson

Then, the teacher taught us the term Applying the Lotion. None of us knew what she meant until she demonstrated for us. So, imagine yourself applying lotion all over your body. Now, imagine yourself applying it in a slow, sexy manner. That's Applying the Lotion. It's basically feeling yourself up as you dance. We also learned how to walk the pole, spin, and slide down the pole. There were three performances by the professionals and now I understand why pole dancing has become a fitness program. It takes a lot of muscle to pull one self up a pole and stay there. The instructor held herself up with her legs and then her arms. It also takes a lot of confidence to snake around the floor.

Some of the women won a lot of good prizes through the raffles. Bottles of wine, purses, perfumes, and free Zumba and pole dancing classes were given away. I, of course, didn't win anything, but Lupe and Liz did. The instructor offers personal classes for groups of eight or more for bachelorette, birthday, and soon-to-be-single parties. I think this would make an awesome bachelorette party because it's not intimidating at all. So if anyone is interested in hosting one of these, please invite me.

I had a lot of fun. Yeah, I was nervous at first but you get over it. Ladies stop paying attention once they start chatting it up so no one is really interested in what you're doing on that pole other than the teacher. Unless you bring Lupe because she had the camera attached to her face the entire night. Elizabeth and I are just waiting for the incriminating pictures to pop up on Facebook.

Awesome ending to my Saturday with these awesome girls!

A day in the life of

Monday was take-your-girlfriend-to-work day. I set my alarm for 5:30am and got ready to embark on the adventures of a lawyer's daily hustle. 

Leo picked me up at 7am to begin the hour-long drive to the first court hearing. The road trip was an incentive for this shadow game since I'm on vacation and haven't gone anywhere remotely interesting or unfamiliar. The sun shone brightly rising above the mountains, warming my face as it blinded my eyes. Traffic was light and our conversation cut the lengthy ride in half. 

The parking lot in this particular Southern California courthouse was full by 8am. Two lines of people stretched out from the entrances to the parking but Leo wasn't worried. His badge allowed him access  to the front and I followed suit. We took a couple of turns inside the building before finding the right courtroom. Once there, I had to sit on the benches to the left for "regular" folks because the identical benches to the right were reserved for attorneys. 

Leo crossed the Bar, the short wall that keeps us citizens apart from the judge, and began taking care of business. There was nothing else for me to do but to commence people-watching. There was a lawyer sitting in front of the Bar. He was young like Leo. Then the District Attorney walked in and it surprised me that she too was our age. What didn't surprise me was that, just like Leo and me, both the attorney and the DA appeared to be as sleep deprived as we were. I laughed internally at the irony: professionals with at least a decade of education under our belts yet we can't get our ish together and go to bed at a decent time. I blame the demands of the world we currently live in; there just aren't enough hours in a day to work and play. The attorney had managed to dress well that morning despite fighting his itty bitty eyes to stay awake. He made Leo look alert behind his glasses. I noticed that the attorney was wearing a wedding band and I took the liberty of picturing him partying with his wife and their friends in a dark club under a disco ball all weekend.

In contrast to the attorney's appearance, the DA seemed to have rushed to work after snoozing the alarm clock three times like my sister claims to do every morning. She wore a black knee-length skirt, a black and white striped shirt, and a black blazer that didn't match the skirt. She had clearly brushed the left and right sides of her lifeless, long brown hair but had forgotten to make contact with the back of her head where the tangled tresses shined with grease or water or sweat. I checked out her shoes and gasped at how inappropriate the shiny heels were for the courtroom. She had most likely thrown on the first pair she saw on the floor that morning, which happened to be the same ones she had stumbled home in the day before at three o clock in the morning. But the most revolting aspect of the DA was her attitude. When the half-awake attorney asked her a question, she turned the other cheek and answered him rudely with something like, "Yes, I'm the DA. No, I can't help you," as she flipped through papers. I looked so much better in my un-DA salary $22.99 dress from Ross. The knee-length charcoal number with black tabs on the sides to accentuate the waist fit me like a glove thanks to my fake Spanx. I know everything I have said might come off as mean-spirited and that's why bad things happen to me but at least I didn't mention the DA's ginormous double chin (versus my regular-sized one). Leo completed his work soon after the DA snapped at the attorney and off we went to courthouse number two.

The people in the second courthouse seemed to be more stupid than the ones in the previous one. Maybe I was just getting crankier due to my lack of sleep. Either way, I do know that the judge in the second courtroom looked like Anderson Cooper. He was very practical, taking cases every 2.5 seconds and congratulating delinquents or not for making progress with their community service hours as the men and women squirmed behind the podium. I couldn't help but think how embarrassed those law-offending citizens were as their personal business became public. And that's when a question popped into my head: Would I rather be standing there discussing my criminal case in front of other offenders or getting a PAP? I decided that I'd rather get a PAP because I have a clean record. 

Now let me describe the kind of power trips floating around in the courtrooms. One would think that the people in black robes would be intimidating but the judges know how to keep their authority at bay. The bailiffs, however, say and do anything throughout the hearing so you won't forget that they have a gun. Trying too hard is such a put off, if you ask me. The one in charge of the last courtroom, identified as Mexican-American by me and Hispanic by Leo, told some fat kid with too many piercings on his lip not to lean on the wall and to "sit up straight." Then he told me, "Excuse me, ma'am," as he made his way past me towards a skinny kid sitting on the same bench. The felon had his feet propped up against the bench in front of us and like a teacher talking to a student, the bailiff asked him if he put up his feet like that on the furniture in his house. My automatic response: Yes. But the kid lied and said no, feeding the bailiff's power trip to say, "This is my house and you respect my house." Because being Mexican-American isn't macho enough..

There was finally a change of pace when Leo ushered me to the previous courtroom to retrieve more files from his partner. I was excited to have an opportunity to act the part I had dressed for. I hooked my black and white Nine West purse in my arm, hugged the black leather folder I received at my Master's ceremony, and walked past the two sets of doors toward the elevator, pretending I knew what I was doing.  I saw the attorney Leo had sent me to find in the hallway speaking with a couple of clients and I asked for the files. As he handed me a stack that reached my chin, the clients smiled at me like I was someone to be respected in the field of law. That's when I knew that I deserved an Oscar for my performance. I walked away like Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blond and handed Leo the documents after addressing him by his last name.

The court appearances ended at noon which translated to lunch time. After dropping off documents in his office, Leo and I headed to a Mexican restaurant that neither one of us had ever been to. We had heard of Tío's Tacos in Riverside and it's eccentric decor. They recycle anything and everything to make art which ranges from human bodies to a chapel. The restaurant has its own parking lot and three outdoor patios. The food was excellent. Leo didn't want to put down his sopes and was saddened when he physically couldn't finish them. I will also note that they serve chips and salsa with every order. We plan on going back when we are not constrained to one hour. Understandably, that was my favorite part of the the day in the life of Leo. I'd make sure a visit to Tío's Tacos is guaranteed, though, before you commit yourself to a lawyer for the day. 

Freaky art

Rated-R art. There was a smaller version of this with Barbie's face on it that had a water fountain coming out of her vagina.

Aguas frescas galore. My cell phone camera couldn't capture them all in one shot.

I admired the creativity of this condiment holder. 

The chapel. Note the bottles in the walls.