Consulate General of Italy Hosts Family Christmas Party

The Italian Arts Council of the Bowers Museum consisting of Orange County Italian Cultural Association (OCICA) and Orange County American Italian Renaissance Foundation (OCAIRF) with its affiliated Italian organization and members, along with the Italian Institute of Culture and the Consulate General of Italy in Los Angeles hosted and sponsored a family Christmas party.

While Babbo Natale, the Italian Santa Clause, greeted children and passed out candies from his red sac, 300 guests enjoyed a buffet of Italian Christmas desserts of Panettone, Spumoni, Sardinian cakes, cheeses and beverages. One could get some Christmas shopping done at the table of Sardinian handcrafts where dolls, jewelry, boxes, bowls and traditional music CD were available for purchase.

The main event of the evening was entertainment from “Su Masu”, a 23 member folkloric cultural group from Elmas, Sardinia, Italy. The men and women dressed in traditional costumes performed folkloric music, dances and songs. The co-ed dance troupe had been practicing three times a week back in their homeland for their performance in the Bowers Museum. Their one week stay in California was a welcoming Christmas gift to the audience.

Newport Beach Magazine

A Vegan's Nightmare

As a professional traveler of sort, I do my homework before I board the plane to my far flung destination. The most important research is finding the best eats.

I will hunt and trek far and wide to experience life's greatest pleasure: masticating foreign comestibles.

I purposely go to Bologna, Italy just to taste the food to see if it's all that plus a bag of chips. This city is renowned and celebrated for its cuisine. The meat Bologna, Bolognese sauce (meat sauce), the Parmagiano Reggiano cheese, the different types of pastas are all produced from this little old city of Bologna. Needless to say, there are many fine dining establishments which I must partake and to spend a small fortune so that I am fully satisfied in knowing that my life purpose has been fulfilled.

Diana is a famous old restaurant which is a must-go-to. It is not trendy nor contemporary but a Bolognese Institution.

I am not looking for schnazzy hotspots where Italian fashionistas frequent. On the contrary, I am looking for a restaurant where the old school fine diner go to get their fill. Diana epitomizes classic traditionalism at its finest. The servers, all male, are dressed in impeccable white jacket with black slacks and black tie. They are older gentlemen who pride in their work and more than likely have been at it for decades and decades as Italians usually have one job for life.

The ambiance is genuine classic old school. There is a coat check where I don't need to lug my heavy winter coat. The furnishings and decor are veritable European. The table setting is class. Real heavy cotton linen with napkins to match. Fine sturdy plate and glass. Solid oversized silverware. A plate of assorted most whimsical shaped Italian bread awaits on my dining table.

My server, Franco, arrives with a big handsome looking menu. You open it and it's all in Italian. Good sign. This ain't no tourist joint. I'm here to order the most traditional dish from Bologna. So I order the boiled assorted meat and organ, aptly named the Bollito Misto. This feast of a dish is a carnivore's delight or a vegan's nightmare. The chef comes out with a rolling serving cart with a huge kitchen pot containing the assorted animal carcass. He dishes up snouts, tongues, and other assorted organs and animal meats. I think to myself as he lovingly puts a suspicious looking blob of gelatanous meat on my plate, "hmmm....this doesn't look so hard to make..dump recycled animal parts in big pot of boiling water. Serve."

After he departed with his creation on wheels, I spoon up some green sauce on my plate next to the bland looking pale meats. "Okie dokie..let's try Miss Piggy's nose." I cut a bite size piece, tine in meat, raise fork and insert food in mouth. What happened after that unforgettable. The flavor was overwhelming! It's not a salt or sweet or tart issue. It's an intensity issue. That was one fucking strong tasting meat! Last time I had to actually remove food from my mouth was eating sausage meat in the former Soviet Union. These meats are not rancid nor bad...it's extremely strong and intense in its flavor. A definite acquired taste. I'd describe it as the pungency of strong body odor. Granted, the regular meats ie. non organs, are fine and tasty especially with their assorted sauces.

I'm satisfied. I came, I order, I ate. My job is done.

French Dessert is Just Like Sex

In life, there are definitely some things that are as pleasurable and rewarding as sex. It's high up on the hierarchy.

A sexy pair of satin Louboutin, an inviting cozy Japanese seaweed bath, a luxurious Fendi beaver coat, or a deep tissue massage from Igor's strong Russian hands are all fine and dandy but total child's play compared to the sophisticated and fine art of patisserie à la Française.

I'm talking about the really, really, really, expensive, beautiful, decadent designer French species. Not the mediocre and plain Jane variety available en masse. This is reserved for the true snob and unapologetic elitist: a connosieur with a major sweet tooth.

Experiencing a royal French pastry is a sexual encounter of the first and unique kind.

The selection from a dessert menu or decision making in-situ is love at first sight. Your heart palpitates, knees weak, and your mouth salivates. A little boner to be. Anticipation awaits.

Why is it that the French can evoke romance on something so banal that's made from flour and sugar?

Looking at the carb-filled beauty is like eyeing your lover. You shop and decide which you'll take home to ravish and devour. Next you buy it. You have to court it. It's not cheap. We're talking like $10-$ 15 a piece. You say it's not that expensive? You must put it in perspective. It is expensive. It's a personal size dessert.... for God's sake. It's a glorified donut or a fancy decked out bon bon. It's wearing its finest French couture and dabbing its rarest fragrance made from the most exquisite and rare Bulgarian rose. It is well educated and from the finest breed. It is coy and sassy. It's flirting seductively to you. It is saying " look at me, admire me, undress me slowly, give me little fun nibbles to tickle and arouse me, slowly lick me and savor my cream....when you can no longer control yourself, then devour me whole until you are wholly satisfied and can no longer do anything but dream and sleep".

After experiencing an orgasmic French delicate pastry, one can no longer settle for anything less. Welcome to Expensive French Pastries Anonymous. Only the best and most beautiful will suffice. Like a gorgeous man or woman, you fully appreciate the exotics and treat it like precious gem for they are a true luxury and the ultimate treat where it is worth the travel to find. An elegant addiction indeed.

Tea Time is Quaint Time

Punk rockers, the London Bridge, and Queen Elizabeth conjure images of England.
But Tea Time is the perennial favorite...or at least it sure is mine.

London is one of the most expensive cities in the world to live. High tea with a glass of champagne for 1 person is without exaggeration around US $75. Without the bubblies, it's about $50. Some may add a main course so consider another $20 or so. Naturally I am referring to the most reputable and elegant of establishments, not your local pub where a Lipton teabag and a biscuit will call it a day. One has to do tea when in London. I'd place it as must-do as visiting the Changing of the Guards at Buckingham Palace. That's how important it is. Tea time is an English tradition and institution. It's a lifestyle.

Does the high price tag justify a pot of tea with some dinky finger foods? Absolutely indeed! The real cost is only a fraction since there is nothing of great monetary value. Couple tablespoon of tea leaves and a whole lot of sugar, flour, and butter cost nothing however what one pays for is the refined ambiance and the formal civility it brings to life. That my friend, is what tea time is all about. It's quite reflection while connecting with your tea time mate...and what better way to do it than in front of a 3-tiers display of goodies. Delicate assorted finger sandwiches, scones with homemade jam and cotted cream, mini pastries like tiny object d'art and a fragrant pot of flower fruit tea or if one prefers, a robust masculine variety is such a lovely partner.

After you book your flight to London, start reserving tea time at the The Ritz Carlton, the legendary hotel. During Christmas season....you better make that inquiry before Halloween!
...and please...dress nicely for God's sake! I recommend after shopping at Harold's, go visit Ladurée which is on the floor with its gourmet food section. It's a gem of a place to relax, eat and soak in the beauty that is this French gourmet tea house with its exquisite pastries and gorgeous gifts available for purchase. The decor is opulent.

A formal elegant tea time makes you feel like royalty!

Abuse Me is Funny

I've discovered a way that makes me explode like a crazy hyena on Speed. The result is unrequited and unstoppable laughter and joy. It's not a silly pet, a new sitcom, the Sunday funnies, nor a new boyfriend with a questionable sense of humor.

It's my kid.

She is sarcastic as hell. She verbally abuses me with her patronizing tone. She lectures me as if I was a dim witted twit. She is a bitch and a witch in the morning like a Vampire who dislikes daylight and finds no wrong in lashing out her grumpiness in the early dawn. On the exterior, she is cool and calm like a cucumber. In the interior however, get her pie hole going and this girl cracks the driest, meanest, most hilarious, knee slappin'-belly achin'-fetus position on the ground-pee in your pants sayings!

She and I are a t.v. show in the making. Some have gotten a preview of the "Wendy and Fendi Show" where mother and daugher verbally bash each other with one liners and cheap shots. I would like to think I take main stage only because I'm the mother. Seniority rules. When she unabasheldy with private joy jousts me, I retort. However she really is the driving force that brings out the ridiculousness and immaturity in me so maybe I am actually her sidekick. Either way, with Ethel, Lucy is funnier. Without Laurel, there's no Hardy.

The main ingredient to her humor is that she is essentially right about things. She puts a god damn sarcastic spin to make her point biting and sharp. Added that to her dry and calm delivery and you've got a recipe for smart ass teen humor with real wit and insight.

Aside from her personal delivery of insults, her e-mails have me cracking like a loony nutbag just out of the asylum. Her writing magnifies her sarcastic humor. I prefer reading her insults more than receiving it face to face. It's softer on my ego.

At times I want to smack her ass as she disrespects me with her in-your-face-no-holds-barred correction and shut downs. A major slap in the face to me as a mother. After her scolding, I feel like a nimrod with a dunce hat sitting in a corner. However either I'm agreeing with her internal goodness or laughing that I am already defeated and too pooped to fight back. So I give up and just enjoy what is.

Laughter is the best medicine. If that means it's on my account...I'm glad to be the butt of her jokes.

Barclay Butera Toasts 15th Anniversary with Publishing Debut

The boyishly handsome celebrity interior designer, Barclay Butera, had good reasons to celebrate this holiday season. December 4th marked exactly 15 years ago that he introduced his first luxury showroom to Newport Beach. Bringing his taste and lifestyle direction to Orange County, to continue his brand and success, Los Angeles, Park City, and New York City soon followed. His high profile clients, to name a few, have included Barbara Streisand, Sharon Stone, Reese Witherspoon, Renee Zellwegger, the Simpson sisters, and Josh Groban along with some high end hotels and other renowned residences such as the St.Regis, Frank Sinatra Jr. and the Marilyn Monroe Estate.

The Newport Beach flagship store anniversary party was a vivid collage. The showroom, lavishly decorated with holiday trimmings and Christmas trees, had become a spotlight for fashionably dressed guests including Mr. Barclay’s staff, family, friends, clients and movers and shakers from the real estate and design industry. Actress, Lynn-Holly Johnson, a former Bond Girl, was spotted among the mass. They flowed from one packed room to another while enjoying their champagne and wine. Catered by his neighbor, Haute Cakes, an inviting display of smörgasbord was a feast for the tummy and eyes as the offerings were refined and colorful. The perfectly moist and flavorfully baked salmon took center stage and was clearly the crowd pleaser along with Cellar B’s generously donated wines. That whole entire fish was quickly consumed as it was quickly caught. It was also hard to resist the mini lemon bars, nut-filled brownies, and the cutest mini-me pistachio sprinkled pumpkin pie.

As guests partook in the warm and lively ambience, there was a beeline for Mr. Barclay to sign his first coffee table book, Barclay Butera Living In Style. Published in October 2008 by the French premier publishing house, Assouline, the $65 hardcover features Butera’s most iconic and celebrated work. “Fashion for the home” is his design approach and concept. Butera believes that “every room should have one truly fabulous establishing piece.” His inspiration is a mix of Hollywood glamour, European sophistication, and the exotic Far East. The 176 pages of visual journey are divided in five different lifestyle categories of Beach, Town & Country, Mountain, Desert, and City. If one can’t be furnished by Butera, at least one can smell like it. Available for purchase are The Barclay Butera Home candle line which reflects the five themed inspirations as a compliment to his five lifestyle line.

In the middle of the soiree, the anticipated 7:30 PM toast finally arrived after Ray Langhammer, Butera’s creative director, gained the room’s attention by clinking at his Champagne flute. The gregarious Mr. Langhammer began to thank all attendees for the evening’s very successful turnout. With appreciation, he shared the heartfelt story of their beginning, vision of their business, and future projects. The dynamic duo, with Butera stylishly decked out in a three piece Tom Ford plaid suit and his former lover in a John Varvatos velvet Nehru jacket, embraced and happily toasted each other for their achievement. The proud mother, Karen Butera, who is a local interior designer in Corona del Mar, joined in to bask in her son’s success. When asked how she felt about that evening’s celebration and all her son’s accomplishment, she beamed and simply said, “I am very proud of him.”

www.NewportBeachMagazine.com January 2009 Issue

South Coast Plaza's Penthouse Celebrates Grand Opening

Located in the quite corner on the third level adjacent to Nordstrom is South Coast Plaza’s new 20,000 square feet luxury wing which caters to discerning customers. This deluxe area houses the popular French bistro Marché Moderne, SoCa St. John featuring Southern California lifestyle fashion, French shoe designer, Christian Louboutin, exclusive to South Coast Plaza, fine Italian menswear Canali, and the ever fabulous Oscar de la Renta. Next year, a Louis Vuitton VIP suite will be added among other boutiques planned.

“It appeals to a clientele who wants a more private shopping experience. This sophisticated mix of luxury brands appeals to clients both locally and internationally.” said Anton Segerstrom, partner of South Coast Plaza

At the grand opening party, guests enjoyed five different tasty bite-sized hors d’oeuvres from Marché Moderne with red and white wine. A trio of musicians played in the background while invites mingled and enjoyed the beautiful boutiques at the Penthouse and admired models outfitted in Oscar de la Renta fashion. The best part of the evening was the yellow banana flavored cotton candy and yellow t-shirts with SoCa St. John emblazoned on front tied with a black ribbon as your gift for the evening.

Newport Beach Magazine

Potluck Party Poopers

I suppose I should be grateful to be considered as a guest when invited to a party. Any party.

However, I 'm annoyed as parties these days are by far...potluck.

To me, a party means the following:

1. I don't have to cook.

2. Someone will cook for me.

3. I don't have to do the dishes.

4. Someone will do the dishes.

5. I can dress up nicely and have a good time.

6. I can eat other people's cooking.

7. I don't have to cook.

8. Someone will cook for me.

9. I don't have to do the dishes.

10. Someone will do the dishes.

Selfish, you sigh? Ain't gonna deny that!

Let's face it, as a guest your goal is to have fun and look good. That's your role as an invite; a fixture to fill the room symbolizing the host's popularity and clout in having so many friends come to his party. Truthfully, the majority of people want free food. Human beings are just elevated rats. They will congregate where the buffet of food happens to be. It's that simple and clear.

Also, another thing that irks me, people tend to bring the cheapest badass food at potlucks: the $4.99 cookie pack, the tired looking cheese and cracker platter, or the standard pasta salad.

Lastly, the unattractive hodge podge of different serving plates. Some people don't even take out the Colonel's fried chicken from the paper bucket! At least put it on something attractive to offset the cheap and cheesiness, will ya?!?! Or how about the moron that provides a personal size something...assuming if EVERYONE provides a personal something....each and every guest would have enough to eat! It doesn't work this way, if Sue Ling brings a plate of 15 potstickers, that means only 15 people each get one. What...there's no seconds? Or how about this one, everyone pretty much brings the same kind of food, ie. 8 different kind of desserts, 5 total pasta and rice dishes, 3veggie dip platter. It's just too random.

I don't want to have to get dressed up, buy a hostess gift, cook or buy the food, haul it in my car in hopes there's no spillage, walk to the party carrying the tupperware in high heels, and after the party, lug that DIRTY tupperware back to my car. Think I'll just stay in and eat leftover Chinese.

I apologize to those who have invited me to their potluck and have lied in order not to participate in your cheapass party...if ever you decide to have some style and be nice to your friends, don't forget me. I would love to come eat your free food .

South Coast Plaza’s Black Friday Open House

What better way to de-stress from hectic mall activity on Black Friday than in the sanctuary of South Coast Plaza's hospitality suite. For the past 9 years, it’s an all day perk fest for VIP, store managers, and the media.

The fancy entrance draped in red velvet and hung wreath signaled a welcome retreat. Fresh cookies from Charlie Palmer restaurant sit waiting to be nibbled as invites signed the guest book. Courtesy of Spa Montage in Laguna Beach, guests were pampered as they chose a facial, massage, dry body brush or a reflexology treatment. After 30 minutes of bliss, your take home gift was a goody bag containing a Japanese Sisal brush and a jar of Sea Cal Bath from Spa Technologies.

In the cozy lounge with two Christmas trees, guest sipped Piper Heidsiek Champagne provided by Napa Style and enjoyed assorted dishes catered by a dozen SCP restaurants including Marché Moderne, Pinot Provence, and Morton's. Nespresso offered a variety of delightful coffee drinks as a post meal treat.

Last stop was a visit to Jo Malone's refreshing fragrance bar as generous perfume samples were being given. It was only fashionable to end the day by smelling like a VIP.

Newport Beach Magazine

The Difference Between Cougar and Sugar Daddy

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CODE, O.C.’s Newest Concept Celebrates its Grand Opening

Looking for an upscale ambience with the hottest lounge in fine dining and a night club to hob nob amongst the most influential and elite fashionista? Welcome to CODE, visionary restaurateur, Moe Ghazi’s latest nightlife installation in Newport Beach.

Mr. Ghazi is no foreigner in creating successful venues; his newest concept is CODE. The restaurant is open to the public; however CODE membership is either by invitation or matching criteria. The establishment keeps information of your frequency, appearance, spending habits, food preferences, and detail of all your visits. The goal is to receive personalized service in the restaurant as a VIP. Your dirty martini and rare steak will be prepared exactly to your liking because it’s all in your personal data. Even a minute detail as your choice of black over white napkin will be noted. After your 4 month trial period review, if you and your friend’s activities qualify the desired profile, your temporary copper card becomes the permanent platinum with your very own code number. Membership benefits include complimentary valet parking, highest priority restaurant seating, best table bottle service, invitations to CODE themed events, food and wine tasting, and more to come. The most attractive advantage is access to the hard-to-get-in venues in L.A. and Vegas. Want four tickets to that high profile boxing fight followed by clubbing at Pure in Vegas? No worry, as a CODE member, you have guaranteed seating to that match and someone will personally escort you to the club with no wait. “We encourage you to give your “CODE” to people for access of a like profile but do not give your “CODE” to a person that you would not rub elbows with.” Mr. Ghazi tries to evoke an environment where a certain caliber of clientele would habituate. According to him, it is not how much you spend but more importantly your frequent visits looking absolutely fabulous in hopes of giving the place a classy and cool vibe.

At the grand opening party, the scene looked like a snapshot from L.A. with eager guests waiting in the long line with anticipation of experiencing the newest buzz. Meanwhile, valet parked exotic cars for VIP and outsiders pleaded for a glimpse of the good life. With the approving eyes of the burly bouncer and handsome security with earpiece and walkie talkie in hand, you turn around the corner and walk some distance to finally arrive at the final destination: CODE.

Inside is earth and water, Ken Ussenko’s Zen vision for the establishment. As you enter, a path way symbolizing the Silk Road directly leads you to the focal point, the bar, which represents water. Shelves of bottles flank a shadow box where a sultry dancer grooves for your visual pleasure as you admire her sexy silhouette. The interior designer hopes to blend nature and texture in a relaxing upscale setting with each unique element custom designed. The dining area is the lounge itself with the incorporation of comfortable leather and suede couch seating throughout.

The lively venue was packed as over 700 people enjoyed hors d’oeuvres of shrimp cocktail, sushi rolls, salad and other bite-size goodies. Cocktails were served by beautiful waitresses dressed in brown as they effortlessly blended with the decor. For the fashionably late VIP, the restaurant lounge continued to serve its full dinner menu until 2 AM and the chilled bottle of Cristal patiently waited on its prime table as excited clubbers gyrated to the DJ's music on the dance floor.

CODE’s motto is “In Life There Are People That Have A Code…And Those That Do Not.”

www.NewportBeachMagazine.com January 2009 Issue

A Trip to France On A September

I returned from Europe after a day of delay while traveling in hell! My three planes were broken thus creating cancellation and multiple delays for me. I felt like I was in a scene of a bad surreal B movie...that's not mentioning the imploding of a bomb at Charles de Gaulle Airport, confiscation of expensive French hair cream, excessive weight baggage fee, and other miscellaneous hassles, nervous break downs and endless waiting!

On a positive side, I got my sugar fix in Paris of pastries, bakeries, and other assorted confectioneries... where my waking moment was hunting for the best eats. I traveled through Paris by foot and bicycle determined to confirm the best creperies, mille feuille, baguette, and other delicate goodies to nurture my soul and belly. I was a walking carb-filled-human. On a savory note, fois gras, frites and ducks were quite often my staple diet when I wasn't stuffing my face with ingredients ending in -ose. Every single day away from USA... I ate well. Although I wouldn't necessarily described it as "healthy". I didn't eat much vegetables and fruits, unless you count the strawberries, raspberries, and thinly sliced apples gloriously glazing my tarte de fruits. My food consumption could easily be categorized in one of the following food groups 1.) cheese 2.) meats 3.) pastries and 4.) breads. And maybe French fries should be the fifth group.
When in travel, I don't believe in being healthy....I believe in being HAPPY!....merci beaucoup....

While the main purpose of the trip was to attend a 3 part Jewish extravaganza of a wedding, I also took the opportunity to visit long distant friends. But, before I tell you more...have any of you been to a real live Jewish wedding? It's totally party central with flying dancing chairs, broken glass, tons of food!!! Can you say Mazal Tov!

As many of you know, one of my mission was to see our French friend in Bordeaux...and here are the tales of my visit with special attention to food as it is my raison d'être.

What a great pleasure it was to see Madame Christine Vandame who lives in Merignac, a suburbia town just a hop and skip away from Bordeaux. Without a doubt, her family was definitely a highlight of my 20 days sojorn. I stayed with Christine and her family for 4 nights.
As I got off my train from Arcachon...(more on that later), I didn't see Christine. I wandered around and around when I saw a lady in a car waving at me. Excitedly I waved back and walk towards her but noticed how much she had gained in weight and started to wear glasses...but oops...I realized it was not her and was relieved for Christine's sake!
I continued to walk around a bit whilst checking out the little train station of Pessac when finally I hear my name and I as I looked up, I see pink. Pink scarf and pink shoes. I was so happy to see her and we hugged like old buds. She seemed so petite...I didn't realize she was that petite...or maybe it's me inflated and bloated from too much flour, sugar, and butter. Blame it on the chocolate éclairs and clafoutis and then endless baskets of all-you-can-eat baguettes.

A little time later, Val (Marina Dominguez's daughter) joined us at the train station for a little threesome. She is a pretty 20 years old UCSD student studying in Bordeaux for the year. The three Musketeers get into Christine's white Peugeot and the Bordeaux adventure tour begins!

Bordeaux is a beautiful city in southwest France filled with great monuments and architecture also divided by a river. It's like "petite Paris" sans Eiffel Tower and all that jazz. That morning, we three ladies played tourists. Christine had just returned to France not too long ago, Val had only been in Bordeaux for 3 weeks, and this was my first time in this part of France.
But first, we must consume food....and masticating the comestibles we did at a beautiful restaurant Cafe Louis in the center of Bordeaux. We decided to take the later tour because when in France, one must take a leisurely lunch without haste and angst. None of this fast food business where your order arrives after 2 minutes of ordering and then to be wolfed down in 5. We toured Bordeaux on a convertible tour bus while discovering its beauty and history. After an hour of this very chillin' bus ride, Christine left to pick up her children from school so Val and I roamed the city. After walking the long Rue St. Catherine where cheap and trendy clothing stores reside, we took a coffee break sitting outside a cafe. When it was time for us to go, we took the tram to Christine's house. Unlike the Paris underground metro, Bordeaux has a better alternative...the tram. In defense of Paris, the city is much bigger thus requiring a more elaborate infrastructure of a public transportation. The tram only has 3 lines where the metro has 13 not including 3 rapid lines going to suburbs. My first night, Christine prepared for us a very French dinner of fois gras with toasts, duck with wild mushrooms, naturalement what's a French dinner without an assortment of cheese, apricot tart and a hazelnut chocolate something dessert....all to be washed down by both white and red wine. Val and I dined with Christine, Herve (her husband), Herve's aunt Guillane and their three small angels: Nelly, Lola and Louis who sat at their own little table and chair outfitted with a violet toile table cloth. After dinner, we relaxed in the living room with a cup of tea. A very nice soiree of friends and food, indeed.

Next morning Saturday, Christine and I drove back to Bordeaux for a 2 hours historic walking tour. The English speaking tour guide was sick and instead of waiting for a replacement which can take a while to find, we decided to go with the French speaking tour guide. I think he's gay. When the tour was over, Christine needed to leave so I met up with Val. My new buddy and I walked around Bordeaux for a place to eat. We were also in search of a Bordeaux specialty, the cannele. Little treasures of this region. Later we met up with Christine. That weekend was Europe's heritage weekend where all public places, government institutions, museums and monuments are free to the public. That evening we three girls sat on the stone ground inside the courtyard of the Customs Museum watching a delightful concert of young people singing and playing instruments. As I sat next to Christine enjoying the lovely choir....my thought wandered off of how great it is to live in France where every corner is history and beauty. Even inside this courtyard I was admiring the great stone wall and it looked exactly like a movie scene from Mozart's day where you can imagine people in horse drawn carriages and villagers shopping for their daily bread walking through town. The juxtaposition of modern clothing and cell phones reminded me that I am back in the 21 st century.
After the concert, Val left for the evening to join her friends of clubbing so Christine and I continued on our heritage evening events. We went to another courtyard where a giant screen played in black and white the history of Bordeaux. We soon tired of it so we left to dine in a restaurant where I had eel and Christine had sweetbread...which is the thyroid gland of a cow I suppose. Quite tasty! Just don't think about it..... the hormone producing organ! After dinner, Christine was sweet to give me an evening tour of the city but as hard as I tried, I couldn't keep my eyes open. Not even a dangling piece of cake could keep me up. Bordeaux is beautiful by night with all its blue, green and pink light showcasing the city's treasure.

The following day, I took a bus tour by myself for wine tasting and lunch. We visited wineries producing what is one of my favorite wine: the delicious sweet sauterne. A wine tour is a must do in Bordeaux similar to a beach tour is a must in OC. I visited three different chateaux and tasted their delicious nectars produced on site. For lunch, it was a delicious meal of fois gras with red berry gelee, main course was chicken with asparagus puree mousse and braised endives, assortment of cheese, and a personal size tarte tartin to finish it off.... naturally all accompanied by 3 different sauterne wines which all kind of taste the same to me with varying degrees of different fruit notes. As I return from my wine tour trip and waiting for Val at the Tourist Office....low and behold..I bumped into someone I know from California! This lady and I exchanged our schedule of when we would be in France but we never thought we could actually meet given the time and places where we would be. What a truly small world it is. Val comes to meet me and we walk Bordeaux for a bit before meeting up with the Vandame family at their house.
We all drove to a great park with a lake and chateau in Merignac. We spent a lovely lazy Sunday afternoon with the kids. Lola on rollerskates, poor Nelly who fell and scraped her toe while she and Louis were just being kids, Val and I dozing on the grass in front of this yellow chateau while a duo plays classic music. As I slumbered, I was awaken by a small person crawling on my back...not sure who it was but glad I woke so I could see how other French family spent their day off. We decided to head home and as we walked back to the car passing a retreat of a garden, Herve shows us indigenous trees and things. Val returned home as she needed to prepare for school the next day. For dinner we ate at the Vandame's backyard. The kids all had their baths and were squeakily clean in their pj's and wet braided hair. Dinner was a potato tart and mache salad. Comfort food is always very satisfying.The kids were very excited about the vanilla and pistachio ice cream.

I am having too much of a great time discovering this great region so I decided to prolong my stay for just one more day. The next day, Christine and I drove to St. Emilion which is an hour away to a charming medieval town producing serious famous world class wines. St. Emilion is full of chateaux and wineries. Since we arrived early in the morning, we were able to snag a great parking space. Christine and I walked the cobblestones of this quaint little town. As we descended the slope of the village, we took a brief repose at a cafe while admiring the tall bell tower and other medieval architecture while waiting for our tour to begin. We visited a catacomb and an underground church built underneath the main church. All this art history talk and following a group around was making me hungry and tired. Lunchtime! My favorite time! We went to a recommended restaurant where we sat in their inside courtyard patio. Christine had the fois gras mousse and the chocolate therapy! We both had a glass of first growth red wine from St. Emilion at 10 Euros a pop ($15) so you know this ain't no two buck chuck! After a real satisfying lunch of eggplant filled pastry on salad and entree of pork for me, we took a little choo choo train where it took us to the outskirt of the main village to tour the chateaux and wineries. I got off earlier to tour one winery while Christine continued on and then had to drive back home to pick up the kiddies. As I remained in St. Emilion, I continue touring and walking this charming place where time stood still and I imagined what life was like back then.....narrow streets, cobblestone ground, little shops and restaurants, churches here and there, little central squares, all in chateaux land. Oddly enough, I thought of the black plague and monks in brown robes. It was time for me to trek to the train station and return to Bordeaux. I was so looking forward to this evening because Christine was kind enough to fulfill a request of preparing Raclette for dinner. I didn't get to eat this Swiss specialty when I was in Switzerland this time. I did however at least got to eat cheese fondue where I think I got drunk from it. (just kidding) The kids and I are having a grand ol' time melting the cheese, scraping it off from a mini wooden spatula and smearing the melted light yellow goo over our little boiled potatoes, assorted sliced meats, and cornichons....we had some green salad and .....to end it all, country style fromage frais with cream and brown sugar was for dessert. Delish! Oh did I mention the beautiful little canneles Christine thoughtfully bought? Merci Christine for getting these little yummy treats that has become my infatuations. These little Bordelais beauties are to die for and have become my new love! Who needs a boyfriend when there are canneles waiting for you to devour? They will love you back because you love them!
Christine and Val were witnesses to my addictions for these little sweet puppies....as I was constantly buying them when I would have chance encounter. Pascal is to blame for my new addiction since he introduced it to me. I will sue him for my weight gain, puffy face, and painful withdrawal symptoms...

Next early morning I took the train back to Paris. I almost missed my trains but luckily Christine sped drove me with the 3 cuties in the back and all turned out well. Nobody got hurt, I didn't miss my trains and the kids got to school on time I hope!

Christine's children:Nelly, Lola and Louis.....were little joys. Herve was such a gracious host and man. It was truly a pleasure to spend some time with them all. I was most impressed with the love and unity of this family.
The Vandame family was very hospitable and very kind to me. I truly enjoyed the city but most of all what I hold dear in my heart the most was being with Christine and her loving family. I was very happy and felt welcomed... I had a great time wit them!

I also did visit one of my best buddy, Piero Acampora in Geneva which some of you Italians may know of him. He is doing well and misses the beautiful Californian sunshine. He lives in a wonderful flat with high ceiling and spacious rooms just right in front of the water fountain jet on Lake Lemans, Geneva. Piero and I had cheese fondue on my first night and what a sport he was for partaking with me since it's not particular his cup of tea....My time in Geneva was short but the visit was well worth it knowing I got to see il mio amico Piero! Piero came back from work twice to make me lunch of what else.....Italian raviolis and tomatoes, Italian meat and cheese drenched and drowned in olive oil.

I also visited Pascal, Raffster's former boyfriend whom I met and hung out with several times while he was visiting California. He lives in a resort beach town of Arcachon, just shy of 45 minutes from Bordeaux. He owns a gelato store and yes...I did try every flavor...all delicious 20 of them!

Pascal was a happening former model. Not only was he hot...but this guy is a fantastic cook...thanks to Raffy for showing him the right way! God bless our Raffy! His homemade fresh pasta will make me look at pasta differently now! He spoiled me with his cooking. How can I now eat pasta from a box? Please allow me to indulge in more food talk...if it's not apparent to you gals..yes, ...I am obsessed with food. I was a starving Ethiopian kid in my last life after I was the beheaded Marie Antoinette making people "eat cake"...haha...

This French man who speaks beautiful Italian made me one dinner of oysters, fresh homemade pasta with pesto (see photo), baked sole fish, endive salad and fruit tart pastries. On that note, the sexiest Italian language I've heard is in my humble opinion, Piero's. He wins first place in "The Most Sensual Spoken Italian". Pascal comes in second. Notice that both their names begin with "P". P stands for pleasure, pleasant, pretty, and perfect Italian!

Arcachon is a beachside resort town where the population quadruples during summer, otherwise it mainly has older retired folks inhabiting this little sleepy cute town. It is famous for its sand dunes and beaches. Here oysters are a main catch. The houses there has a very esthetic architecture totally specific to Arcachon. To me it looks like a cross between a Victorian and a colonial Tommy Bahama island style. Postcard pretty and quaint.

Last dinner with him was fois gras with champagne (I told you I ate a lot of this stuff...it's basically pure fat) homemade pasta with clams that we both dug (more on that later), and I have food coma because I can't remember the rest??? Are you guys getting fat from just reading my eating tales? Oh yeah....homemade flourless chocolate cake and some other store bought chocolate pastry. Yes...each meal I consumed on this trip exceeded 10,000 calories easily!
I will never forget the experience of going on a boat to an island to dig for clams and oysters. When was the last time you had to "work" for your dinner? That night as I helped Pascal prepare for our scrumptious dinner, his friend came by to borrow a professional deli meat slicer. Marco invited me to join them the next evening for a gourmet dinner of feasting food they had brought back from Spain. Sounds like my kind of evening party...let's get the elastic pants out!!!! I was so tempted to stay another extra day just to attend this carnivore eat fest but I had already delayed in going to visit Christine due to the boat ride but to stay an extra day again for a food party? hhhhhmmmmmm.......very tempting indeed. Eenie meenie miney moe.....should I stay for the food party or go to Christine's???

One last word about canneles: it was Pascal who got me hooked. When I first given this sugar filled carb drug...the first one was the best: crunchy and crispy on the outside and soft and luscious in the inside. After that one, I couldn't find one that was as perfect as the first. I had experience less than perfect when the entire thing was nothing but soggy rubber. Like an addict, I would spend $3 a pop to satisfy this craving and on a tormented hunt to find that first love again...perfect out and in. My first one will now become only a distant memory and will forever hold a special place in my heart and mouth.

Back to Paris....I may have to in two years find a successor to my position as I may very well be living back in the land of Eiffel Tower and pain au chocolat. I was the most happiest being alone soaking in the Parisian vibe as it fills my whole being. It is amazing how with a good pair of support shoes, it can transport you in different worlds according to where you travel and happen to end up. Chic, bohemian, artistic, trendy, Asian, Arabic, African...it's all yours if you are willing to trek and hunt. How irresistible is this charming and romantic city that holds a mystique. Imaginations and dreams are immediately conjured and hearts start to flutter and sing upon the whisper of the word....Paris. N'est-ce pas?

It's the Wrong # 57

I'm sure my mail man is a neat guy and is great at what he does. So why is he making me do his job? Why is he giving me someone else's mail all the time? Unfortunately for the rightful owner, the stuff looks pretty mighty important. Personally I wouldn't want anybody's grubby paws touching my travel document, bills, and financial portfolio.

I often receive mail for the address above me and the address below me. Yes, house #57 doesn't mean MY #57. At the end of the day, it' s no big deal to drop off the mail to the proper address however I am quite aggravated with developped resentment to have to do this task which I get no brownie point or credit except good karma. I feel I need to get dressed, get in my car, drive either up the street or down the street, park the car, lower the window, reach out from my car window and open a stranger's mailbox and then finally to desposit the items. What If I don't feel like going out and doing this.... then what would become the fate of the flight ticket, credit card bill and such? Why couldn't it just be junk mail? Then I would really be doing them a favor by withholding them!

I assure you I've brought this to the attention of Mr. Postman and all victims involved. Mr. Postman continues his job....still wrongful delivery. I'm sure he's a great guy.

What scares me is what if someone else has my #57 mail?

Halloween is your Second Chance

Is there a day that you're allowed to look ridiculous and exhibit your true soul in public without any legal consequence or be rushed to the nearest loony bin? Or be someone who you are not but wish to be? Halloween is really conceptually a "my secret self" day. It's not about the $39.99 cheesy costume randomly chosen and available in all suburban strip malls nationwide, but the deep and thorough character search that creates this alter ego of your chosing.

It's an intuitive subconscious plot, role playing taken to the real world with real live people to support your cause.

Do you suffer from an inferiority complex? You always secretly wish to be a righteous beautiful all mighty Goddess, King, or any cape wearing immortal figure wielding magical super duper power with flowing hair and a phallic prop to bestow blessing and curses to those who cross your path?

Or does your true humanitarian qualities manifest in the form of a fireman, soldier, policeman, captain, doctor, or any primary color wearing Super hero?

Do you find cultures, icons, and objects curious? Elvis, Sumo Wrester, Powder Puff Girl, Betty Ruble, Geisha, Grim Reaper, Jesus Christ, M&M's, Dorothy, Louis XIV, Double Double Burger, Freddy Couger, Groucho Marx and all human figure and things created on this earth.

For the sexually repressed or the sexually insatiable, there is the ho', pimp, and any characters imaginable skanked up. This has become the trend for women's Halloween costumes: to sexualize anything and anybody. Normally conservative, unglamourous and somewhat mundane, these roles have now taken a whole different level of sex appeal. Luscious librarian, mama mia maids,wild and wicked witch, naughty nurse, porn princess, kinky kitty, hottie hillbilly, basically babelicious anybody and of course my favorite, Seargent Sexy. "You're under arrest for possession of a weapon. Whad' you've got there in your pocket? Looks big and dangerous....hands up and bend over while i frisk you....gonna cuff you and give you a good spankin' ...then you tell me who's got the bigger baton, you bad bad bad little boy ...."

But my admiration and applause really goes to those who use scissor, sewing machine and glue. Arts and craft all over. Real treat to see a costume not Made in Taiwan. Best costume I ever saw was a "One Night Stand". No it wasn't a slut in fishnet with 5" heels. It was literally a night stand. He constructed a table (night stand) made from cardboard and cut a hole where his head would stick out. He covered the "table" with a tablecloth and decorated his night stand with a flower vase, lamp, and books. Brilliant. And certainly he got more attention than someone blatantly showing t and a's. As a matter of fact, his noncomforming creativity may have just net him a "one night stand" offer. It's the Law of Attraction at work. He wore his one night stand in hopes of getting a one night stand. Brilliant.

If clothes make the man, consequently, we are what we dress. Your body language, speech, and demeanor becomes the character you create. It's a day we can temporarily experiment being somebody else or show another side of ourself. Your true secret self.

My Thoughts are in My Closet

I discovered a boutique nearby called "Chez Moi". I am literal. This jewel box is in my bedroom closet. Contained and unknown to the outside world, an array of one woman's psychological profile is hidden behind the meaning of her questionable choice of clothing. Women buy things believing this is who we are or hope we are to become. You only need to look into the female psyche at the time of offense to determine her mental and emotional state. Let us examine some of these crimes, shall we?

Item: A white Gianfranco Ferre shirt with exaggerated French cuffs and collar as high as the Eiffel Tower with slashed sleeves from shoulder to wrist. Maybe the seamstress forgot to sew the seams or perhaps Signor Ferre was watching reruns of The Incredible Hulk while envisioning women ripping out of their clothing while raging after work, husband, kids and injustice. This shirt is excessively sexy for work because of the revealing arm and it should not be worn while eating. Essentially, it is a big white bib waiting for a spaghetti spill to happen. State of mind: Probably entering work force with subconscious resentment of a 'real job' and wanted to rebel hence creating drama in a traditionally otherwise boring work place. Thought I could dazzle co-workers once I remove my so very serious dark suit and then, wham bam...the shazam shirt! Think of Chippendale with Velcro pants! With one swoop, the crowd cheers. (In my dream, I get a raise)
Item: Many shoes doubling as walking Christmas ornaments. Flamboyant and loud. Walking object d’art. Eye candy on feet. A Christian Lacroix with heels resembling a stack of mothballs. One size too small. Looks count. Pain doesn't. A black and white stripe Dolce e Gabbana sling with a real cameo brooch, a Baroque masterpiece for I have yet to find a glass case. An ordinary shoebox would be like Marie Antoinette living in a condo. Unthinkable. Countless novelty shoes blinged out: Leather stiletto with real spinning spurs on heel. (Double as a weapon when on a blind date and sexy cowgirl prop in bedroom with the blind date) There are also furry shoes (animal feet) and sequined shoes (happy feet). I have a pair of wooden Geta sandal. (Never know when I might have to perform a tea ceremony) State of mind: Probably bad hair day, bloating and breakouts. Translation: Don't look at me, look at my feet!
Item: A cropped rabbit fur jacket purchased in Italy during a winter vacation with available fruit loop colors in yellow, orange, lime, and fuchsia. I looked like Big Bird's little sister. I went for yellow. State of mind: I was freezing cold. I'm an American. With the long hair and outrageous color, I might for one fleeting second thought I looked hot like a rock star. That or I was reverting to childhood when I once owned a lovely chocolate colored rabbit fur coat. I have been called out as “rich bitch” while adorning this little luscious fur ball of love. I thought I could still look “rich”. I was disillusioned though. It does not even have lining. I was wearing dead dyed animal skin. Did I mention I was cold? State of mind:Decreased air temperature effects sound judgment of the mind. After paying $99 bucks, I was still cold.
Item: A Jean-Charles de Castelbaljac white palazzo pants with one leg entirely an illustration of Jack and Jill. I am a walking one-legged mural. State of mind: no idea. It was probably summer. Increased air temperature effects sound judgment of the mind.
Item: A strapless Christian Lacroix couture ball gown in pink and lavender with layers of puff, lace and more fluff and stuff. I am a human triple scoop of bubble gum ice cream. This could be a dress worn by a B list actress on the cover of People Magazine's Worse Dressed with the caption "when bad dress happens to good people". State of mind: possible to purchase a princess piece at pauper's price. Shouldn’t all women own a ball gown just in case?
Item: A delicious red Karl Lagerfeld beaver sleeveless shrug. Tiny little piece of article like the size of a kitchen hand towel. It fastens in the front. Looks like lingerie that Conan the Barbarian would give to his cavewoman for Valentine: furry chest bra plate. Quite useless except it feels good to the touch. I like fur. I like red. State of mind: I like fur. I like red.
Item: An Angelo Tarlazzi white coat covered entirely with glass diamonds the size of giant Indonesian cockroaches. I am a walking disco ball. I am performance art. State of mind: Look at me! I am as bright and dazzling as the sun and moon. I am Miss Universe. I give thee light.

It occurred to me that worse clothing choices were always white. White is the representation of all colors. However, the human eye interprets as an absence of color like an empty sheet of paper. Unbeknownst to me, I may have been creating the characters of who I wish to become. If I can somehow remove all that jazz, I can really use the blank canvas to paint a genuine self-portrait, instead of hiding behind a facade of embellishments, abstract art and mostly... a skin that is not mine.

There Exists Eternal Lust

Does eternal lust exists?

Usually it's 4 legged and of the furry variety. There is nothing more heartrending and endearing than to look at an adorable cuddly pile of fur. Its "cuteness" is so overwhelmingly intoxicating that you want to chop it, saute it, and eat it up! Yums!

The visual is uniquely satisfying. No need to touch or have contact. Just simply looking at this ball of lushness makes life a beautiful place to be. It's a walking, eating, barking, pooping stuffed animal! Every little tyke has a special toy with a secret wish or imagining that it was alive. This is it folks, your bundle of furryness and loveliness in a breathing, walking and interacting mode. It's your doggie, meow meow, bunny, hamster, gopher, iguana and the likes.

The real lusty experience comes in a physical contact form too. You snuggle in its fur, sniff its paws, inhale its essence, rub its face, spank its bottom, pet it and treat it like a baby doll...You make love to your pet. So darn satisfying to molest its warm soft body. So tender. Pure bliss. It makes you want to be in the fetus position. You want to steam it and inhale it whole! Delish!

I've been blessed to have 3 great love affairs during my life time. My first lover was a big hairy English who was robust yet sensitive and sweet. Second was a coy mysterious Persian ( great in bed!) and now my current lover is an adorable exotic Tibetan who is smart, friendly and the biggest love of my life. It makes my life bearable, truly worth living. There were some one night stands or those that lasted a week but they were never fulfilling. They either died or ran away from me. Was it something I did?

Each lover had its own different personality and beauty but all have one thing in common: my love for them continues even in memory and especially in heart.

Why do Chicks Talk Forever and How to do it Right

Why is it that women have this insatiable need to talk? And what the hell is there to blab all day? And all night?

There is something extremely comforting if not pleasurable knowing we can hold something in our hand, punch a series of numbers (speed dial if you're a total pro), hoping for a ring tone knowing that our opportunity of happiness near if a human voice appears. That simple act of calling is the beginning of the Chick-Blab-Fest Ceremony. Princess phone, dirty mangled cord kitchen wall phone, sleek Bang & Olfusen substitutes as sex toy phone, Save-On pharmacy's cheap plastic phone, chic metallic Razor cell phone, Blackberry crackberry doubles as t.v. remote control cell phone, Mickey Mouse phone, Barbie phone, Hello Kitty phone....It's all good phone. Requirement: something for your mouth to blab into and something for your ears to hear blab. Advice: speaker phone a plus if hands get tired and allows multi tasking i.e. e-mail or IM a different person on computer to get all your communication needs met. It's not really cheating as long as the other person doesn't know and you can offer a reasonable intelligent response.

There are also many factors to consider when preparing for this ritual. Setting up Shop, Privacy, and Comfort . Setting up Shop is the strategic area where marathon talk will take place as this will determine the ambiance of the highly anticipated experience. Lying in bed or lounging on couch (chaise if you're house is Über avant garde) are for hard core talkers as this set up is conducive to endless hours of chatter, laughter, tears, and heartrending therapy induced session into the wee hours. There are no physical limitation as this is the most sought after bodily position available to date. You can fall asleep immediately and if stretching is needed, just do it-nobody can tell. Privacy is extremely important as you don't want to edit or censor any content of juicy nasty thoughts. You want to be able to say f*&# this and f*&# that as often as needed(because it feels good) and freely express your honest to God feelings without worries of being judged by a passer by. Door closed and preferably locked is ideal as nothing is more of a total boner killer when your lover is creating the mood by romantically describing his triple X rated fantasy of how he wants to ravish you just to have your kids barge in screaming "I'm hungry, what's for dinner!" Bedroom or a place where there is an absence of human traffic is best. Stolen hotel's "Do Not Disturb" sign is a good prop to use for further emphasis, just make sure it's not the "Housekeeping Welcome" side. Pratically you also want to be near a bathroom should you need a quick pit stop and have food within reach for energy sustenance. I will deal later with which kind of food is best to eat while on the phone) It's also a good idea to have writing material handy should you need to jot down pertinent information you won't want to forget such as name of a new diet, phone number of highly recommended therapist, website of closed out discontinued lipstick, etc. When ready to talk forever, think of comforts that would enhance this sport. Change into your jammies, remove all accessories especially earring and hair doodads, go to the bathroom for relief, take off your make up in case you eventually fall into slumber land, and eat before or better yet, prepare snack items to munch on to make this event even more fun-filled. Foods to consider for snacking while on phone should be clean and easy to handle. They should be finger foods or foods eaten from one hand. Food shouldn't be messy, greasy, sloppy, or drippy. Un juicy fruits are good, so are crackers, chips, and cookies (do warn other party in advance as courtesy for some serious cracklin' sound effect), veggie sticks, cheese in assorted shapes, and breads not toast as there are no crumbs to contend with. Chewing gum is okay as long as you're not an annoying person. Soups, noodles and especially the combo noodle soup is tricky. Technically it's doable as long as it's on a flat surface and you can feed yourself with one hand. Slurping is unattractive however you need to prioritize which is more important: being a courteous and likeable phone talker while painfully eating in silence or be the pig you truly are and slurp all you want. Really bad food choices are those requiring two hands usage. Piece of steak, big juicy hamburger with the works, corn on the cob, spare ribs, and fried chicken. If on speaker phone, disregard this paragraph and eat whatever the hell you want. If you have the mute feature, go for the noodle soup combo.

Your telephone partner of choice is the most important criteria to make this gab blab fest satisfying and rewarding. All the highest thread count bed sheets, buffet spread of goodies and silk jammies for maximum comfort is nothing if on the other side of the telephone lies a dead weight or dead fish. Or just dead. Your speaking partner should know how to speak your own language, has no apparent hearing problem, and can effectively communicate comprehension of what has just been said and to articulate an intelligent response.

Chicks like to just talk about nothing and everything. Repetition is key. They like to run off in chronological order of banal things they did for the day and insert experiences in them. "Went to the new dry cleaner and their price is a total rip...The owner was hot though!" Somehow and somewhere relationship is the number one topic chicks will eventually get around to talk about. After the appetizer of "what did you do today", the main course is always relationship based and dessert is the juicy core part of it. If they are talking to their boyfriends, it's delving into needing to know where they are in the relationship. Nothing make dudes run faster than to hear "honey, let's work on our relationship". Any topic remotely near relationship between the two talkers can range anywhere between 1 to 24 hours in length non stop. Again, repetition is key. Between two chicks, the relationship topic is about their past, present and future boyfriends. This topic can range anywhere between 1 to 24 hours in length non stop. Again, repetition is key. If there exists no current boyfriend/girlfriend issue, than the subject of relationship will concern other people's relationship ie. Gossips of people's failing marriage, who digs who, and the everyone's favorite of who's doing who. Single person topic includes asshole bosses, asshole clients, dysfunctional family member, out of control kids, bitches, and pricks. Even total strangers get airtime. "that bitch totally cut me off at the freeway". There will always be a "featured" guest topic. During the talk marathon, a conversation will focus on one person to analyze and criticized for our gossiping pleasure. "What do you think of Mary's new blonde hair? I think she looks like a total skank ho bag. Her boobs are totally fake. She's so totally with that dude for his money... He was so totally hitting at every chick last night...." Again, repetition is key.

There are topics that will always be repeated because we enjoy talking about them. Again, repetition is key. If you really dissect a conversation between two chicks, there really is just a handful of different subjects. The lengthy phone conversation is about beating a subject to death and repeating this topic as it's comforting to know we own it. It's territorial. If you live with someone, for a passer by, it's difficult to discern whether it's a new conversation because all conversations sound the same. Today's versus last week's versus 2 month's ago...Same old same old.

Chicks like to talk about their feelings and emotions. We are creatures that need nuturing. This is free therapy. We listen to ourselves and right there and then we realize the next course of action. As a matter of fact, while your friend rambles on about her new dude or whatever that night's issue is.......Go to the bathroom, grab a snack from the fridge, come back and you'll hear "thanks girlfriend, you always help me out...Now I know what the deal is..." You think to yourself, wow...That was the easiest 15 minutes of doing nothing and you got credit for it. Score. Try it next time, they wouldn't even know you were missing in action. Chicks like to listen to themselves. It makes them feel important as what they have to say makes a difference in the world. That's what boyfriends are for. They exist to listen, a sounding board. They're not big talkers so they might as well contribute to your life to be big listeners. There is also an art to listening. But that's another blog title for another time.

This act of gabbing is two-fold: It's really part therapy for ourselves and those in need and part chick bonding. We communicate to know who we are through talking about everything and nothing and time pass surely fast when you're having fun....

Milestone for a Woman

You know your life is about to detour when your 13 1/2 (plus 1 day) years old daughter comes out from the bathroom announcing that eventual ever-feminine event. Goodbye little girl. Hello little woman. Suddenly a revelation dawns on me. My baby is no longer a baby but can make a baby!

My reaction to her announcement was flat as to mirror her delivery. Several thoughts scrambled in my mind and I had to quickly access which to respond first. Should I A.) perform a "show and tell" the various types of product now needed to accommodate her newly acquired situation B.) share this news with all close family members as if Mega Lotto was won C.) "don't you dare touch a boy 'til you're 21!"

Thought C.) was dominantly on my mind and I decided there and then I didn't like this "new" mommy gig. Consciously I tried to be supportive so I congratulated her with a soft hug but my fear got the better of me and I hardly couldn't wait to remind her that she could get pregnant now ...therefore see paragraph C.).

Today is the second day of her rite of passage. I see her in a different light now. This normal biological function inevitably means hormones viciously doing their job, intense X rated thoughts and feelings, experiments of innocent touch leading to more, schemes and plots to get near their object of desire. Basically: Sex 101.

I am not denying the world's greatest pleasure to anyone, especially someone I love the most. However I am trying to prolong and avoid at all cost my own headache and hopefully heartache that I may and will eventually face with raising a teenage girl. Oh did I also mention that I am a single mother? Since many have commented that I look more like her sister than mother (thanks to long hair, low cut jeans, and funky t shirts available at all retail), perhaps I can go out with her and serve as chaperone/wingwoman. It's actually a wonderful example of the win win concept. She gets to go out, I get to go out. She can flirt with boys and I can chose with whom wh flirts. She has a personal chauffeur and banker and I get to control where she goes and what she spends! Perfection if you ask me. Why wouldn't she want me around? She hangs out in a group like a sheep in a herd and I would just blend like another one of her posses. The more the merrier. I can be pretty immature and speak the vernacular of a hip teen. We raid each other's closet so I already got "the look" down and I still haven't totally grown up and wouldn't hesitate to frequent wherever teens would go. I get to be "young" again! I'm totally cool and happenin'. I'm a funky mama! What'up, homey! Just chillin' like a villain! So fo sho!

Pathetic. I sound ridiculous. Maybe I should just stay home. Come to think of it, I may be trying to relive and reconstruct a past I never had. I want to live vicariously through her youth as it's exciting. Very exciting. So bright her future...This uncharted virgin territory (no pun intended) of a future. I can share with her my mistakes and successes of dating/relationship and life in general. Through her I can see myself as if it were an out of body experience. I would instruct her how to dress, speak, behave, think, be.....Live. As if my methods of psychology were fail proof and flawless and would ensure success, I would be determined that she would never get hurt and make the dumb usual mistakes that all chicks succumb to. Why should she "fail the test" when I already have the answer sheet? I'm her walking-talking-built in-answer to her questions! For God's sake, my whole life time I've been everyone's Dear Abby and Dr. Phil!

I know it's not fair. I'm robbing her of this precious time. She needs to build a repetoire of her own wisdom and most importantly experiences. As a mother, you can only sit back and give them useful tools that would allow them to build a strong foundation for their own future. They need to be hurt, burned, sad, and disappointed. What goes down must come up. Conversely they will also be happy, ecstatic, proud, and in love.

This is a milestone for us both. As she enters adulthood, I enter adulthood again. I need to be sensitive to her feelings, understand her needs, validate her thoughts, and most importantly be an example of what I want her to become: a reasonable and intelligent woman.