Second Annual Big Sur Camping

This last weekend was the second annual camping trip to Big Sur. Due to the huge fire last year we had to pick a new campground that wasn't burnt down and settled on the lovely Plaskett Creek. (I say this like I had anything to do with it, when in fact I had nothing to do with the planning.)

The group is about 20 people with the most thing in common being that we all like to eat good food and drink lots of booze. With every couple having a weekend assignment everybody ends up well fed and super hydrated.



We purchased a new tent this year, since I was sick of having to sleep on top of my bags as well as The Husband. Behold, the new castle:

We arrive in the early afternoon and begin to set up camp, while the first crew prepares dinner. What's great about this group is that cooking for 20 people always turns out great, in part because of every ones planning, but also because our neighbors take grilling very seriously and we always show up to the campsite with a full tow-behind pit. Yeah, professional. This is only one side of it:
Every time we go camping we end up with people walking by telling us they want to come with our group the next time. The Grill is impressive and shows people that we mean business, we've now got a good showing of very large tents, and always a plethora of games. The glow in the dark bocce ball didn't make it out this year, but we did have Cornhole and some ball throwing game that I was horrible at.
My favorite part of the weekend had to be our Booze Guy. After setting camp up we start drinking, and when The Booze Guy gets there he slams a large container of margaritas down. The next 24 hours was a bit of a fast-paced blur, but I did manage to take pictures and label them for every ones convenience:

Somehow a few of us started talking about gin, and when I mentioned the Bombay Sapphire was the best, The Booze Guy stood up from his camping chair, spiked his open beer into the fire and stormed away, only to return with a fabulous Costco bottle of liquid deliciousness.

We didn't tap into it the first night, but instead drank the rest of the margaritas, beer, and Crown. I woke up still under the influence at 6AM to start preparing for breakfast, and The Booze Man showed up at 7 and began making his magic Gin Fizzes. We finished the bottle well before noon, and after breakfast a nap was in order.

In the afternoon we walked to the beach- one of the nicest on the central coast in my opinion.

This was our sunset:

*Sigh* Gotta love California.

I have no good excuse for a blogging absence. I think about it in fleeting moments during the day, but for some reason playing a game of spider solitaire takes precedence.

Harvest is slowly approaching and I'm sure three months from now if I have a lapse in blogs I will actually have a reason for it. I love the look of the vineyards this time of the year- it seems they go from their dormant state to buds in a week’s span- gotta love chemicals.

This past weekend was Fab's birthday. We had planned to go camping, however FabRic decided to come to Monterey for the night instead.

Naturally, The Hubby and I wanted to meet them and make the most of the beautiful coast, and-of course- when presented with the options for the day they chose wine tasting (somehow it never gets old). The plan was to cruise by Cannery Row since Fab has never been there before, followed by a drive to Carmel Valley to continue wine tastings. Yeah...Lets just say we didn't make it out of Monterey.

Cannery Row wasn't as busy as I thought it'd be, and our first stop was Baywood Cellars. I've never heard of them but they had a nice tasting room and a great guy and his dog working there. One of the best things about working in the wine industry is that at most places I don't pay for tastings (if they charge) and I often get about 30% off. Why would I not buy something if it's delicious?!
The guy had a heavy hand. Not to mention that we hadn't eaten lunch yet. I had to get the 2007 Termpranillo because its hints of smokiness demanded that I serve it with something that had bacon in it. Don't ask.

Our next stop was Scheid. I can't even count how many times I've been there since it is the closest tasting room to our house- and we are surrounded by their vineyards. They just opened up a tasting room on Cannery Row- and if you're in the area you have to stop by at least to check out their bathroom. They guys sure didn't care about it, but Fab and I were impressed. Of course we get to talking, the tasting room guy gets to pouring, we get to drinking. We leave happy.

I think we realized that we weren't moving on to Carmel Valley- so we improvised and we to A Taste of Monterey. This is the view from the tasting counter:

More wine was of course purchased- I'm not sure what they tasted like, but apparently we thought they were good. I was disappointed because they weren't pouring any Pianetta winewhich is one of my favorites (plug for Caitlin and her fam.), but none the less we were content.

We were not too intoxicated to come to the conclusion that we had some of the best calamari. Ever.
Unfortunately, that coincided with this:

On one hand I was smart enough to forgo the temptation of a delicious dirt sapphire martini, on the other I will concede that the pink sugary booze thingy I got in lieu of a martini was not a smart idea either. I cannot be sure, but I think we had a bottle of wine during dinner also. Why don't I learn?
The next event I was about to mention, bay in fact not have been the next event. In writing this it has occurred to me that I can't recall if the bar came before or after dinner. Either way it was another bad idea. I don't know WHY THE HELL this would happen:

Even worse, The Hubby claims that I am the one that got Fab the birthday shot- which I ended up drinking part of. What I am also failing to understand is why these next to pictures occurs, but here they are for your enjoyment:

I didn't even have to crop them. Somehow, Jaeger=boobs. Things get fuzzier from there, as we headed to the hotel where FabRic were staying so we could hit up there classy bar. (Why are people still serving us?!) I am told martinis were in order (WHY?).

Next thing I know, I'm on a dance floor. The Hubby is pissed off.

From what I gather I had gone to the bathroom at the hotel, which happens to be in front of the entrance to the ballroom...Where an event is going on. Yeah, I crashed it. I was dancing like I belonged, and still have no idea what group the party was for. I may have been the youngest of the group, the only one in casual clothes with tattoos showing, but I'm sure I had fun, if not at least provided some of the guests with something to talk about amongst themselves. The Hubby said we went back to the bar and FabRic were nowhere to be found.

We hit up the Jack in the Box drive-thru, and then rented a hotel room down the street from where we used to live. I was up and at'em at 7AM with a raging headache- but quite happy we had a hotel room and weren't stupid enough to drive.

Well, Happy Birthday Fab! At least we got some cute pics before things got sloppy.

I feel like I've been blogging about a lot of things that bother me lately, so on the way to work this morning I decided to write about something that makes me happy.


Old School Hip Hop. I love me the hippity-hoppity. I was lucky enough growing up that my mom would not only let me listen to it, but she'd sing along with me- even if it was Eminem. (There is nothing like a middle aged woman singing about Eminem throwing his baby's mama in a lake. My mom rocks.)

One time when I was young I was listening to a mixed tape of songs I had recorded of the radio on my Walkman. The song was Salt-n-Peppa's Push It, and when my neighbor grabbed my headphones to find out what I was listening to I thought I was going to get in trouble for listening to a nasty song. She just sang along.

I didn't really know what Cake Boy was about either, but Innocent M and I sure did get down to that Sir Mix-A-Lot jam. (If you're not sure what a Cake Boy is, check it HERE. )

And what about Tigra and Bunny? They liked the Cars That Go Boom. I didn't even know what the name of their "group" was until I looked it up just now. Innocent M and I only knew the one little part of the song, but I'm sure we thought we were bad ass (BAMF if you will) singing that with our florescent clothes and pegged pants.

Oh, and I Like Big Butts and I cannot lie. Why want to?

Hippo Birdy Two Ewe

I love to dress up, that’s no secret (not like that- get your mind out of the gutter). I’m a big fan of theme parties and acting silly- life is too short not to.

This last weekend was BigA’s birthday party, and one of the reasons that she and I get along so well is that she’s big into dressing up also. So, while I was at the party store looking for an Anything-But-Pink Birthday Crown I stumbled across some cheesy but fun fiesta attire. They did say they were doing tacos for dinner…The Hubby, however, didn’t think the outfits would be PG13. Dammit. I called her anyway and told her what I had found, and she insisted that I go back and get them. While I was at it I got cone party hats, a birthday crown, and super cute lollipop's for the girls- because I care.

The party was good, consisting of some fire dancing:

Sitting around singing silly songs with a gee-tar:

And of course there was karaoke. For the record I told BigA that it would be fun to have, but I was sure I’d take NO part in it. That was a sack of crap- my voice was horse the next day:
There's nothing like a bunch of drunk girls singing Pat Benatar songs at the top of their lungs.

After all the big kids (and really little) had retired for the night, we headed up to the bedroom to change. Of course we needed to toss on our roller skates too in order to make the outfits complete:

We had to take the bottles of beer out of their little holsters to skate around in order to prevent horrendous party fouls.
Unfortunately, because of the fiesta costumes this came out:
I think I made ConeGirl and her hubby take a few. But it's not "making" them if they want it already, right?

The girls enjoyed putting things in their mouths*:

Everyone enjoyed the hats- in more ways than one:

At one point BigA demanded that the stripper pole be put up- cause really, what is a party without a bolted in stripper pole. (Duh): This was completely innocent, and in fact I believe this took place in order to prove that she won best ass during a scavenger hunt:

Somebody had the great idea to bring a bunch of granny-panties and hide them all over the house (including the freezer). I'm pretty sure she's still finding them:
All in all it was another late night party at the BigA household, which always leads to me taking at least a half a year off my life. Worth it? Usually. Except for the amazingly huge bug bite on my heel.

* I did a little distorting this time instead of cute hearts and stars over faces...a little creepy, I'm not gonna lie. I think I may stick to the cute shit.

P.S. Did you know that smoking kills?

Not your Grandmas Bingo

I have never played Bingo for money before. That being said, let me introduce you to The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. The ones we spent time with are the Russian River Sisters, and they have monthly bingo. The caption on the website says "Sisters Bingo is not your Grandmas", and that really says it all.

Being an Easter theme, we decided to get some hats of our own (all except Amy, that is, which I'll get to later). It was nice to have hats on when we got there since we waited in line for an hour or so and it was blazing hot.

Look, Look! We're cute and innocent! Not only that- but we were sober. Yeah, I said it.

When you're waiting in line they finally come through and hand out numbered cards, as well as a special raffle ticket for virgins and seniors. When Sister Sparkle asked us if we were new she looked at as coyly and said "I can spot a virgin a mile away". We hadn't been called that in awhile, so needless to say we all smiled and thought "Ha ha! Fuck you husbands!".

A numbered card means you're guaranteed to get in, and there is no saving seats for late-comers. As we buy our cards, grab our raffle tickets and find a seat, we notice a large amount of random shit at the front of the room. Everything from a George Foreman Grill, wine, t-shirts, and water guns were up there. WTF? It turns out that this is exactly what it looks like. Free Shit. Throughout the night people start yelling and chanting "Free shit!" "Free Shit!", or "more shit!" when you don't think she stacked up enough to give away. And if you're not yelling loud enough you obviously aren't that in to getting free shit. The best part was looking across the room and seeing a grandma pumping with her fist yelling "free shit!!". Awesome.

So not only are we yelling about free shit, but every time we end a game everyone balls up the cards and throws it towards the winner. The place was a wonderful disaster and at one point I look up and there's paper flying everywhere, music blaring, and drag queens dancing. How could you not love bingo after this?!

One lady yelled bingo when she didn't have it, so they brought her up to the front and all the sisters had 30 seconds to dob all over her. Seriously- they put ink all over her face, arms and neck. She didn't care and she seemed pretty wasted, besides that she was sporting a banana clip in her hair, so she probably deserved it:

Speaking of dobbing and dobbers, I did not receive a memo about Amy being a motherfing professional. We brought bonnets, this bitch brought this:

Yeah, that's a bag of personal dobbers. She had personal dobbers. Apparently she goes to bingo every Monday with her mom. And guess what?

That's right, that bitch won. She was the only one of us who won anything. There she is going "look at me, I'm a winner and I carry around my own dobbers." (Er, not in those words though, it was really more like "Hey guys I brought some cookies, want some?" Whatever, I get your game woman...)

My favorite sisters were Sister Francis and Sister Sparkle:

My favorite thing about the bingo besides the possibility of winning a decent sum of cash is that they took a 15 minute break in the middle of everything to go across the street to the bar. Really. Next time not only am I going to have some pre-bingo Strip and Go Nakeds, but I'm taking my ass to the bar with the sisters.

This is our favorite dancing sister:There was only one Bad Idea of the evening and it happened while we were in line- and it wasn't even us. It was the lady in front of us, and I was worried about a scene. Or losing my foot:

Worlds smallest ice chest, not a svelte ass.

The evening was worth waiting in line for, and we definitely plan on going again at some point. This time, I'll have my winner pants on.

Saki with a Side of Sushi

It was a long, wonderful weekend, which I’ll have to do in two posts since in all honesty a drag queen bingo deserves its very own.

Friday was Sushi in P-Town, but it was more like sake-bombs with a side of sushi. Let the beginning of Bad Ideas commence.

MelB made us do a sake-bomb before we began to eat. Not such a bad idea, but not a great one in hindsight. Two sake-bombs before a meal of raw fish and eel. Riiigh...

By 9:30 we decided that we *had* to go out dancing. *Had* to. Despite the fact that is was waaay early for any action downtown, we tried to make ourselves look pretty and not too drunk, tossed on some heels and called a cab. In the middle of said actions a lovely little photo shoot took place:

Work it!!

Yeah baby!! Give me some front action!!

Don't worry, she changed before we went out. (Her shirt, not the panties...I think.)

I can’t even remember how many places we went to downtown, we just kept walking from one to the other.

The wise thing we did was stick to beer, but to be honest we were already 2.5 sheets to the wind, so I think all it did was prolong the inevitable by a mere 30 minutes or so.

Bad Idea #2 :

I don't know what possessed her to take her shoes off on the street, or sit down on the ground. Or maybe she fell. Not so sure...

Moving on to Bad Idea #3, I now realize that I honestly can't say if it came before or after Bad Idea#2. In either case this was by far the worst of them:

Never, ever, should you listen to your drunk friend who all of a sudden is shoeless when she grabs a random shopping cart and tells you to get in it. Ever. I don't know how the hell we didn't crash, but she managed to get me to the end of the street and back without tipping over...I think. Not only did I agree to it, but I paused to take out my camera and took two or three pictures. I now have bruises forming on each of my forearms, which is fine since I hear that looking like your husband beat you everywhere but the face is the new mini-skirt of the season. (Seriously officer, I was riding in a shopping cart while my barefoot friend was pushing me!)

Our cab driver on the way home took us through the Taco Bell drive through, and we were in bed by 1AM.

Oh yeah, we know how to roll...