Thursday, May 26, 2011

Bye-bye, House.

MOVING.  It is one of the most horrible, stressful life experiences.  It is particularly stressful when you wait until the last minute to pack a la ME and decide to head to Florida the weekend you're supposed to be moving out of your place. I will be the first to admit I am not a planner, I don't like dealing with logistics and I absolutely wait until the last minute to organize things.  Take this morning, for example.  I walked out of my house on the way to work and was immediately confronted by a giant moving truck zooming past me labeled "GLEN'S MOVING AND STORAGE #415 826 4000."  So guess who will be moving my stuff?  You guessed it: GLEN.  Glen and his men are coming tomorrow morning.  Rise and effing shine.
Good bye beautiful palm trees wrapped in pink roses I pass every day.  i love each of you like a sister.
"This is why you need a boyfriend," my mom observed on the phone as I bitched to her about the heinousness that is packing and carrying heavy things.  "I'll be fine, mom!  I can do it.  It's going to be a piece of cake."  She assured me it would not be and she was right.  Thankfully my boss let me come home early today after I burst into tears (a combo of hormones, moving, lack of sleep due to said move and the fact that I am leaving this amazing place I have come to adore.)  I realize change is a part of life but I really, really wish it wasn't.  I will admit I get attached to places (I even wrote our house in Newport a letter and buried it in the back yard before we moved - this was 2 years ago mind you.) 141   Buena Vista East has been no exception.

Anyway, I left work after having asked every person I came into contact with where in the F I am to get boxes.  Turns out a lot of places have them - I hit up a place on Haight and scored 7 big boxes.  70 bones later (seriously!? for a few pieces of cardboard. damnit) "You have a car?  You'll need a car - you won't be able to carry these home," the albino package man behind the counter warned me. "I got it! I'm strong," I assured him.  As I stumbled past concerned customers, tripping my way out the door and trying to navigate my way toward the sidewalk I realized I was helpless.  Even the homeless people on the street I always try to be nice to when I pass were laughing at me.  (Really Joel? i thought we were friends.)  I finally surrendered and crammed myself into a small taxi with my ginormous boxes.  4 hours later - I am almost finished.  And I did it without a boyfriend.  And you were right mom, it wasn't easy.

So now I'm off to live at my dear friend Trevor's until my new lease sharts on July 1.  Good-bye to BVE - I  am so, so very sad to leave you and your incredible view.  Thank you for the memories.

On a brighter note, I am headed to Florida (I won't say where in Florida because my brother hates when people name drop this location) for some much needed rest and relaxation.  See you soon Kristal and Mrs. Kristal!

have a twinkling evening.  xo, Nige

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Tora Lora Lora

I guess the novelty of TPSF is sharting to wear off, I haven't posted anything in over a week and it has been looming over my head like a dark, omnipresent black cloud.  I've been meaning to write but work has been really intense, I've been training for that triathlon and my head has been buried in Tolstoy. (That's what she said).  Ok, that's all false but it sounded plausible, right?  Whatevs.  The truth is I've developed an extreme paranoia about blogging at work so I've decided to nix it from my daily morning routine on weekdays. 

Anyway, I know everyone has been suffering from extreme TPSF withdrawal so I'll try and bring you up to speed on the life of Nige Fige (Shit, I forgot referring to yourself in third person is a dealbreaker - my bad).  Rather than cram the ever fascinating details of my eventful life over the past 2 weeks into one post I figured I'd do it in increments over the next few days so as not to bore the shart out of you.  So, for today I've decided to focus on Bay to Breakers, which occurred two weekends ago.  For those of you who are not familiar with Bay to Breakers I'll give you 2 explanations:  According to Wikipedia it is an annual footrace in San Francisco.  According to moi: Bay to Breakers is an annual shitshow held in the streets of San Francisco where people of all different walks of life, errr.. mental states, convene to shock and traumatize an awkward, impressionable girl: yours truly.  This experience rivals my Harbin trip (See entry: Bumble Bee Tuna: your balls are showing).  Seriously, I've never seen so many oddly shaped naked men in my life

I tried to capture the insanity and sheer chaos that is Bay to Breakers so have a look see:

my costume made t-shirt given to me by Lily Gray.  (RIP hat and shoes)

me and Wilsy

my breast friend

Add caption


me and Bwad


wilcox, you've got a dickfor on your forehead

way to keep it clean, folks

hey gorgeous

the always dreaded shocker

oscar the random bay to breakers patron

hey kristal

In other news, I went to Funk Door Bikram yoga yesterday in an effort to combat Mr Scary and I highly recommend it to you SF dwellers.  I got an all inclusive month long pass for 30 bucks plus a free monthly pass I can give to any friend I choose.  (So friends, whoever buys me the most egg rolls will be the winner).  I was taken aback, however, when my yoga teacher marched right up to me whilst I was in the "Awkward pose" (which I not shockingly am very good at) stuck her hand in front of my mouth and said "Give me the gum.  It's ok, I'm a mom."  The would have only been mildly embarrassing if she hadn't ordered me to do this into her microphone so the whole entire class could hear.  I swallowed my pride and spit my bubble yum into her sweaty, cupped hand. 

Have a warm and fuzzy day.

xo, Nige

PS. Sorry for the botched font/ font sizes.  It's one of those days where I don't feel like pAyIng ATtenTion to dEtail

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Friday, May 13, 2011

Nacho Libre

I have three siblings: two brothers and a sister.  I am the youngest.  Given the fact that two of my siblings are considerably older than me people are constantly asking why I am around.  My mother assures these curious idiots that I was a “surprise.”  I don’t buy it.  In fact, I am convinced my parents had me so that Charlie, my younger brother would have someone to play with since Josiah and Elizabeth were off at college while he was growing up.  Whatever.  Charlie and I went through approx 9 nannies growing up – and they all left for one reason: Charlie.  When Charlie wasn’t making fun of me for sucking my thumb or putting gum in my eyebrows we had lots of fun together.  Our deepest and most relevant bond has always been greater than blood; it has been our mutual love and respect for: DORITOS.  Thanks to our insatiable need and our potential temperamental attitudes Di always had at least two bags of fresh Nacho Cheesier Doritos in the cabinet.  Seriously, we’d be fresh out of milk but never out of Doritos.  Our fingers, tongue, lips, TV room couches and even our unsuspecting dog Coco were always smeared with orange.  I will never forget the one time I was deep into a Doritos trance when I made the gross mistake of double dipping my licked fingers into “darling” Charlie’s Doritos bag.   I suppose the punishment fit the crime; he aimed and Frisbeed a soft back copy of the Sweet Valley High, The Teen Years clear across the room and nailed me in the side of the head.  The impact left a permanent dent but I learned two things: Charlie has always been a sharp shooter and there are boundaries in Doritos sharing. As a result of this early trauma I grew to fear and love Doritos, I also attribute my fear of fear of flying objects and books to this impactful incident.   Perhaps it is the reason I gravitate towards magazines.   My Doritos fixation continued throughout adolescence and I even experienced times of innocent experimentation with different flavors like cool ranch, jalapeƱo, or Doritos Diablo… but in the end it was always the Nacho Cheesier that did the trick.

You may be asking yourself why in the H I am talking about this.  Well, I’ll tell you.  Two days ago, I experienced my own book flinging worthy Doritos infraction.   Dave Scalise, a fellow Doritos lover, was spending his Saturday at the DMV surrounded SF’s finest when he saw a woman literally eating Doritos from her ass.  In an instant, Dave captured the insanity with his handheld and emailed me the photos.  My Doritos obsession was immediately put into perspective.  Will I look like her if I continue down this destructive path of Doritos munching?  One day when I am too lazy to hold the bag will I be forced to utilize that crack between my head and my ass to potentially house a small bag of chips?  Does that that space comfortably fit a bag of chips with out causing too much damage to the contents?  Wait, I am getting off track, the latter was irrelevant.  I would never go that far.  Perhaps if I am too tired one day I might devise a necklace of sorts to hang the chip around my neck, but I would never store them in the ass.   Thank you Dave for bringing this to my attention.

See you at Bay to Breakers....

xo, Nige  

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

I'd rather be in Newport.

my sentiments exactly

Hello there.  I apologize for being MIA for the last couple days.  Is it too late to apologiiiiize?  I have been super stressed for the past week - I heard from someone that the 3 most difficult things to deal with in life are death, break-ups and moving.  I can attest to all three - and right now I am dealing with MOVING which is not so much difficult as it is a gigantic PAIN IN THE ASS.  As of now, I have no clue where I will be resting my head in two weeks and that is an extremely unsettling feeling.  My roommates and I are currently dispersing - one is moving in with her boyf, one is moving to TX and the other is undecided.  I have contacted every normal person I know who may be looking for a roommate including a BOY - which is very uncharacteristic of me: I can't even look a boy in the eye for longer than 17 seconds (I know, I'm awkward).  I've even explored the idea of living in an igloo but I'm not sure how that would work. I am considering moving to NYC to be closer to my family (my brother and dad work there) but I've been told by numerous people that I "wouldn't be able to handle New York" which I don't quite know how to take - but I am sure it can't be a compliment.  Two things I am sure of: I refuse to live alone and I refuse to live with someone off Craigslist.  I think living with a random from Craigslist would be about as cool as a pap smear.  At least my darling brother has offered to let me crash in his garage until I find a place, which - again, I am not so sure how I should take.  Thank you Josiah? Maybe I should move home and be with my darling dog CoCo whom I miss more than anything and love more than egg rolls. (sidenote: I named her CoCo back when I thought Paris Hilton was cool about 6 yrs ago.  Wait, she's never been cool - so this makes me a legit tool. Wow, I'm a poet and I didn't even realize it)

CoCo misses me
Moving on.  I have been working at a conference at the Ritz all week which has been super fun - I've gotten to stare at hot investment bankers decked out in suits all day and been able to feast on free Ritz-y meals.  I have also made a new friend who is working at the conference as well and I am meeting her in an hour for a Bikram class. (jealous, Kris?)  I have a tendency to make friends with the most random and aggressive people and I am not so sure why.  In the past 2 days this girl has facebooked me, e-mailed me and texted me 4 times.  She has also signed me up for her public speaking class which she said I would be a perfect candidate for (again, not so sure how to take that....?).

The capture and murder of Bin Laden has also captivated me over the past few days - literally, I have been reading articles upon articles about him, watched videos about him and researched the shart out of him.  Seriously, I could tell you how old he was when he lost his first tooth.  I'm not sure what it is, but ever since I've been little I've been fascinated by serial killers, murderers, horrible people - my dream job has always been to be a forensic psychologist - think Jodie Foster in Silence of the Lambs.  Ok I better quit there so as to not scare off any perspective roommates.  I am sorry this has been a chafe of a post but I am having a very Chafe-ful couple of weeks.  Feel free to send me haribo gummi bears.
the magazines adorning my nightstand

have a chafe-free afternoon. xo,  Nige

PS. sorry, I don't want to leave you all on such a morbid note: I do have something to look forward to! Kiira and I are going costume shopping tomorrow for Bay to Breakers this weekend which I am super stoked about.  Hoping it's as fun as last year if you know what I mean....

B to B !!!

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Never Have I Ever

Last weekend marked my first trip to Tahoe, which is surprising given the fact that I'm such a dedicated skier.  (Lie.)  I've heard stories about Hot Dog weekend and couldn't have been more excited to experience this debauchery first hand...

After Kristal and I packed her car with our American Apparel neon gear, we picked up Goodie and began our journey north.  (Tahoe's north right?)  80% of our drive consisted of Goodie google imaging Kate Middleton wedding photos and Kristal and I bickfording over whether Bugles are healthy or not.  (I say yes!  They are made out of corn.)  Our Bugle fight caused Kristal to miss the exit which resulted in a 2 hour delay in our trip.  Maybe we should start hanging out less?

We arrived in Tahoe and made a pit stop at the grocery store.  I opted to use the self-checkout, which caused quite a stir.  Seriously, how do you "check out" a single tangerine?  My ineptitude delayed us another half an hour.  But it was worth it: it was a really good tangerine.

I named him Edward.
We woke up Saturday amped and ready to head to the mountain... Correction, I was ready to be dropped off at Nicky's brand new awesome (unfurnished) house where I set up shop and read a book on the floor about growing tulips; Cassie, Nicky, Goodie, and Kristal all took off to the mountain to "shred the gnar."  After I familiarized myself with the anatomy of a tulip, I headed to High Camp to meet my ski bunnies.  As I entered High Camp's poolside, I was almost blinded by all the 80's neon attire.

Enjoy these visuals...

High Camp Hot Tub

Day Glow

Polka Dot Inner Tubes... DEAL BREAKER.

Ski Bunnies

Dumb + Dumber

Hi Bwad!

Goodie really surprised us with her
performance this weekend.


Russell Brand...AKA The Firework

After a day of head banging, riding the mechanical bull, and drinking at high altitudes, we decided to head back to Nicky's to regroup.  The night began with It's Not Delivery, It's DiGiorno and Four Lokos.  We then headed to Squaw where I anticipated getting free drinks from the bartender who knows my best friend Savannah... That all came to a halt when I happily showed him this text message from her... 

I guess guys don't appreciate being called "baldish" and "fast talking."  MY BAD.  Needless to say we didn't exactly get hooked up.  So, Kristal and I bolted...literally, raced across the parking lot to Cantina, which smelled like each employee was bulimic.  It was pretty dead when we showed up so Kristal had the DJ assure me about 7 times that it would pick up.  ENTER....Duffy Dustin... or wait what's his name?  Dusting Duffy.  Whatever, he was really cute and claimed to be a professional skier.  He also helped me find my phone after it had been pocketed by an heir to the Heinz Ketchup fortune.  I ran around the bar padding people down... the DJ, a cop, a random woman named Denise... Until I found it on his person.  The Cantina was not an ideal spot to catch a cab, so we were rescued by a Squaw Valley Park Ranger (aka Security Guard) and got a ride home.  Nicky was kind enough to let us have a late night gathering at her house...where we played spin the bottle and Never Have I Ever.  Like the mature, late 20 somethings we are.

Hey Pink Pants

Duffy and I planned to have lunch the next day and suggested we go to Plump Jack.  I should have known I'd been duped when he hesitated...  because when we got there, our group was enthusiastically greeted by every single employee, including the dishwasher.  Duff got up to go to the bathroom and the waiter informed us that Duff was a professional server...  DEAL BREAKER.  

After we packed up Kristal and Goodie's Tahoe belongings, we headed back to SF and decided to make a pit stop at PF Chang's.  (Kristal got me a $50 gift cert. there for my b-day 2 years ago.)  Upon arrival, Goodie hopped out of the car with such excitement that she flung the car key into the sewer we were parked above.  Everyone else was upset about the key and trying to figure out how to get home... But, being stranded at PF Chang's was my dream come true!  Egg Rolls for everyone on me!!!!  I comfortably set up shop and felt right at home.  Goodie, miraculously got the Marin Fire Department to show up and fish Kristal's car key out of the sewage drain....

Andrew was our hero... Not mine though,
I could have stayed there all day!!

The culmination of our day was when I got the news about Bin Laden AT PF CHANG'S.  I made a toast to all the families at the restaurant and announced that this was my perfect day.  Sadly, we had to leave PFC's and head home...  Only to be welcomed home by my favorite companion, the GGB....

Have a soy saucy day.
xo, Nige

Monday, May 2, 2011


One of my favorite go to one-liners when I'm out on the town has always been: "They found Bin Laden."  It really accomplished a lot - it shocked people, squashed awkward silences and made randoms  who overheard me talking about this to immediately get on their blackberries and this false info.

Well, I am happy to say that as of yesterday I am out a one-liner.   Not only did they find this m*ther f*cker but they killed him.  AMEN.  

stay tuned for my weekend update tomorrow.

xo, Nige