So, funny story...

Autumn and I went to the store to get some bay leaves and an onion for the outrageous cooking party we were about to embark on. A helpful grocery store assistant brought us to the bay leaf section of the store, where we discovered that a jar of bay leaves costs about $5. After guffawing and calling my mom to see how essential bay leaves are to adobo (she yelled, "FIVE dollars?! FIVE dollars?! FIVE dollars?"), we decided to forget the bay leaves. Our cashier ended up being the helpful grocery store assistant who so graciously led us to overpriced spices and herbs, and he said, "No bay leaves, huh?"

We said, "No...we decided we don't really need them."

"So you're making...spaghetti?"

His detective skills are obviously not amazing -- we were buying an onion and a bag of ice.

I said, "No. We're making adobo."

Blank look.

"It's a Filipino dish...Asian..." As I said this, I just trailed off as it appeared nothing was registering for our friendly cashier (pun intended).

He said, "Oh, sounds good."

I said, "Um yeah, it's great. See you later."

Good news! Neither of us hurt ourselves or burned anything down or melted anything. Our adobo tastes like adobo and the lumpia was cooked perfectly.

Not too shabby for two undomestic women who started the evening out saying, "You can cook chicken, right?" "Kinda." "I can cook chicken too kinda, so we'll be okay, right?"

High fives and kudos for Autumn and me!

I hold grudges sometimes, like my mother.

This just isn't my week. Every thing I've planned to do, whether it's going to Boulder Beach, going to see Transformers, going to see Blue Scholars, having brunch or dinner with friends...none of it has worked out. Last night was my breaking point -- due to a fiasco of miscommunication, I completely missed the Blue Scholars' set at the 777-fest downtown. I got to see Lifesavas, but I was completely pissed the whole time. Which is unfortunate, but sometimes, I have a hard time letting go of these things.

But in the end, everything was fine. I met up with some friends, and we went to the Baby Bar to see James Pants spin. I danced my aggression out so I'm ready to face the world again.

And write poems, because I'm behind in the postcard poem game.

The beginning.

Well, here we are. A fresh page. More to come when I'm not feeling so passive-aggressive/aggressive and snippy.