MGMT on the Midway

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Hellooo friends, gather round while I tell you about the time that we saw MGMT perform on the USS Midway. This tale begins like any good story should, with Mexican food:

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As you may or may not know, Comic Con was this weekend in San Diego. If you don’t know, you might be living under a rock not live in California or be into anything awesomely geeky. Like any local, I know not to even attempt to drive downtown during the madness. It’s like the Super Bowl for nerds, people. I work in Old Town, so my boyfriend Taylor met me at the office after work and we braved the trolley together.

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Surprisingly, there weren’t as many cosplayers as I thought there would be on public transit. I’m assuming that they probably get there bright and early hence their absence on the train in the evening.

With full bellies and happy hearts we hauled ass to the U.S.S. Midway, we RSVP’d online but admittance was still being handled on a first come first serve basis.

Granted we weren’t too happy when we saw this monster line waiting for us:

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OK, well we look pretty happy in this pic, but that’s just because we really like each other and it was Friday night.

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THREE HOURS passed by and we’re really starting to doubt that we’ll get in. But thanks to some quick thinking, we asked some people who were exiting the party if they still needed their VIP passes and voila- no more waiting in line. We were in.

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Since now almost four hours had passed since our taco binging, we hit up the free food being served. Let’s be real, we would have bee-lined for the food anyways:

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And then we took advantage of the open bar. Man, San Diego really knows how to make a girl feel special. Yes, the drinks were nautically themed.

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Feeling victorious, we got up pretty damn close to see MGMT in action. I hadn’t seen them live since like 2005, but they really put on an amazing show. Although the last time I saw them, they were hammered and wearing snake-skin pants. So that was slightly more magical.

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We were on the top deck of the Midway in the San Diego harbor, so the ocean breeze and the city skyline in the back truly made it an unforgettable evening.

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Neither of us had ever been on the ship before, so we took the time after MGMT’s set to wander around and be dorky.

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Thank you, Comic Con, for bringing amazing events like this to America’s Finest City, even if it also means the 5 has an unreasonable amount of traffic all day long. To all you nerds out there, I salute you.

C’mon baby, make it slurp so good

This weekend, I found myself in Hillcrest cheering on the San Diego Pride Parade. My boyfriend and I were starving and made a quick pit stop at Tajima! This little gem exceeded all expectations and was truly delicious. Apparently they just recently opened up their HIllcrest location, too, so I was really pleased with how legit everything was.

We both ended up ordering:

“Chilled egg noodle with BBQ pork, pork belly, ramen egg, green onion, sesame seed served with house dipping broth.”

 

The broth tasted like garlicy, buttery heaven. We’ll definitely be back!

 

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Behold, a world of ramentastic nomz.

Why I didn’t catch “The Fever.”

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I wanted to love Megan Abbott’s The Fever, I truly did. And after binge reading all three Gillian Flynn books last week and seeing she had endorsed it, I caved and bought it on my Kindle. But the story just didn’t grip me how it should have and there were WAY too many red herrings in the mix. Like, more red herrings than an episode of Scooby Doo. Proceed with caution, there are going to be some major spoilers ahead:

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Ain’t No Party like a San Diego Yelp Party!

Do you like stuffing your face with free food, taking advantage of open bars, and dancing to your best ability despite being so full you can barely move? Well then, my friend, you have to go to a Yelp party. It’s easy. All you have to do is sign up and write about your favorite businesses. And if you hope, pray, and keep on eating— you will  get invited to a Yelp party. I went to Yelp Rocks the Boat with my wonderful boyfriend last Wednesday, June 18 and could not have had a better time. We set sail on the Inspiration Hornblower (which is a tri-level boat, eh HEM, no big deal or anything.) Not only did we take in stunning sunset views while circling around the San Diego Harbor, but the good folks at Yelp truly outdid themselves. Each level was stocked with different vendors from Nothing Bundt Cakes to Werewolf the pub in addition to different entertainment on each floor from live bands to electronic DJs.

 

So dear reader, prepare to live vicariously through me and these low quality cell phone pics. Don’t worry, if your face is green with envy, find solace in the fact that I can’t see you through the screen ;)

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Short ribs with sweet potato mash and of course some tableside Yelp swag.

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Worst Dates: Greatest Hits

During my freshman year of college, I found myself dealing with my very first broken heart. My longest relationship of a year and half had crumbled under my feet. Although I wish I could say I pulled myself up by the bootstraps and stayed calm and collected, that’s just not what happened. Instead, I listened to a lot of angsty Indie music, got bad highlights, and went to too many parties. While reluctantly walking down the road to recovery and trying to forget about my lame ex-boyfriend, I also made some major dating mistakes.

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Taco Teeth

Boys on motorcycles have always held a special place in my heart. I was set-up with a co-worker’s friend and could not have been more stoked when he picked me up on his bike. We spent our first date at a taco shop, where I’m pretty sure I paid for our romantic dinner of burritos and horchata (even if the conversation wasn’t interesting, it was delicious). I swiped my credit card for our 10 dollar meal and we left to take in a sunset beach walk. But then something horrible happened. As we headed west to sandy shorelines, I noticed my companion was taking a while to respond. To my horror, I looked up to find my dinner date with a dollar in his mouth. A crusty, who-knows-where-it’s-been, dollar. When I asked young Taco Teeth why he had currency in his molars, his response was- “Oh, I had some food in there, just trying to get it out!” This new aged dentistry was enough to have my skin, and teeth, crawling for weeks thereafter. 

Strange Snuggler

We met at a party and exchanged numbers. He was a study abroad student. His style was effortless and his accent was refreshing. Plus, he was studying to become a dentist and I knew my mom would love that. We went out for coffee and then decided to see “Inception”. Lattes and chitchat had been charming if not downright enjoyable. In the dark of the theatre, I could feel him staring at me but chose instead to keep staring at Leonardo DiCaprio to take my mind off my first date jitters. That’s when it happened. Over the course of several minutes, he inched his way closer and closer to me until he was practically sitting in my lap. I’m not a small girl by any means, but also can’t comfortably support the weight of a full-grown man. Then, he started rubbing his nose on my cheek. Like butterfly kissing my face and rubbing his nose all over me from side to side. It was so weird. I think he was trying to get me to make out with him? I still honestly don’t know. After a few minutes of me awkwardly scooting away, I whispered, “I have a headache. I feel like, really gross. Can you drive me home?” I wouldn’t get to watch Inception in its entirety for a few more years. Sorry, Leo.

Beast Bear

In what was maybe the worst dating decision I’ve ever made, I gave my number to a guy who was shopping at Ross. To be honest, I don’t know what I was doing shopping at Ross. No matter the purpose of the visit, I found myself speaking up to a handsome, muscular, albeit hairy- 6’5″ man. He was so tall, like damn. Think like an attractive, giant version, of a Jersey Shore douche. He was hot but not the sharpest tool in the shed. For whatever reason, I ended up hanging out with him and we made out. Our chemistry was lacking so in days to come when he texted me to hang out again, I quickly made up an excuse. Although I should have been honest, I told him I had to babysit my younger brother. When he asked me out a second time, I concocted a different excuse. This apparently enraged him, causing this gigantic man to leave me threatening voicemails and text messages for several weeks, if not months. He even came into the restaurant I worked at and asked to be seated in my section, with his mom. My manager asked him to leave, because he was a nice dude. Later, I would discover the giant’s Myspace (this was back in the Dark Ages) and find that his username was aptly: Beast Bear.

Serial Saint

Religion is a make or break point in many relationships whether they’re romantic or otherwise. I would describe myself as a spiritual person but not someone who subscribes to any specific denomination. In early 2010, I found myself dating a super Christian guy. I found his commitment to faith endearing even if I didn’t follow the same moral guidelines. He was kind, funny, and a good dancer to boot. A month or two into us dating we were out at dinner and he looked at me with his wide blue eyes, “Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone?” As an egomaniac, I assumed he was about to confess his undying love for me and to hear that I rocked his world in the sack, the reality was much more unsettling. “Sure”, I replied between sips of Diet Coke. “OK, well, I’ve just…I’ve always wanted to know if I could murder someone and get away with it. Like, am I smart enough to hide a body from investigators?” Baby Jesus in all his infant glory could not carry my feet out of that restaurant fast enough. I wonder if he ever did it- and if he did, would we ever know?!

Although I’m glad to have some dating experience under my belt, I feel that if put in the same position now, I would work on loving myself instead of finding weird dudes to hang out with. Once I stopped looking for Mr. Right, he came waltzing into my life and we’ve been together for three wonderful years. And although I’d like to say there’s someone out there for everyone- I have the sinking feeling that there may never be a Mrs. Beast Bear.

 

How I got trolled by Snooki

As you may or may not know, I write for a travel company. My day consists of researching destinations and flushing out why someone would want to visit. A few weeks ago I thought I would post a sassy tweet to show my ambivalence towards Jersey. Seriously, researching what to do there led me to pages like, “well, it’s really close to New York!” So the tweet was born:

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To my surprise Snooki tweeted me back, which was hilarious and awesome because my tweets never get read:

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Suddenly my phone started blowing up with over 100 Twitter notifications in about 20 minutes with trolls posting shit like:

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And my personal favorite was this sweetheart:

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So I guess all in all I learned that if you’re going to make jokes on the internet, don’t direct them to people on the East Coast. Also learned that there are a looooooot of people on the internet who are insane and have a lot of time on their hands. I wonder if people who are actually internet famous read all the weird replies they get on their social media posts, doubtful. Haters gon’ hate. Trolls gon’ troll. At the end of the day all you can do is sit back, laugh, and hope to go viral.

Golden State of Mind

Was up in San Francisco this weekend visiting my sister Alana. I’m no stranger to the City by the Bay but am always surprised by how beautiful it really is. Here’s a peek into my weekend:

1. Arrive at sister’s hiptastic apartment

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2. Drink some much needed wine and ascend to the roof with Lanz

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3. Kick it and in the morning wake up to take some presh sister co-selfies

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4. Embark on a day of adventure in the Presidio

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5. Make our best elephant seal faces

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6. Check out the historic Palace of Fine Arts

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7. Go out e’rry night cuz we livin like Beyonce

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8. Recuperate and obviously get some Arnie action in there

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Until next time, beautiful city!

 

xo

J

OK, I am going to write about Duke University’s freshman porn star. Don’t hate me.

As you must know by now, an 18 year old female freshman at Duke University has taken American media by storm. Her porn alias is “Belle Knox” and she is upsetting everyone from her peers at Duke to media moguls like Piers Morgan. Her story is not new. A young woman, struggling to fund her way through college, and has chosen to do so by acting in pornographic films.

What is disheartening is that similar situations happen every day, and not by choice. Women from around the world often times are forced into becoming sex workers and once in the industry, are statistically at a higher risk for developing drug addictions, mental health problems, and falling victim to sexual/physical assault. What has been so puzzling about the entire situation, is that a white girl from a privileged background with seemingly endless opportunities, would choose to do porn instead of opt for the more well-versed waitressing gig. What’s sad, is that this instance has garnered more media attention than real tales of sexual slavery and illegal trafficking of women which takes place every single day in every country in the world. We care because this girl is supposed to fit neatly into a societal box, and instead, she is sprawled out across the bed.

Knox has represented herself extremely well throughout the current media feeding frenzy taking place, (I read online that she was also a member of her high school’s speech and debate team, dope). She wrote an open and provocative post on XOJane which illuminated her struggle and additionally, brought to the surface the isolation she now faces as a teenage sex worker on a college campus. As a person who exists in the world, I hope you, reader, never engage in slut-shaming. I regard the sex industry as a legitimate practice in the United States. In fact, I think regulations regarding sex work should be reexamined as to give workers more rights, along with a safer environment to work in. It should come as no surprise that Americans produce 89% of the world’s pornography and 30% of ALL internet traffic is porn-fueled (think about that, the internet is a big, BIG place!!).

That being said, I respect a person’s right to work in the porn industry, male or female. Your body means your choice. Go for it, bust out the weird toys and get freaky. Or don’t. I could give a shit. The situation that really gets to me about the “Duke porn star” is her referring to her actions as “feminist”.

It’s cool you’re taking Women’s Studies classes…but do you have any idea what you’re talking about? I was on board with her XOJane piece and her subsequent interviews..until I actually watched a portion of her porn. YUP. I watched porn, 97% of people in the world do or have done it, didn’t you know? What I found disturbing about the film was that she engages in demeaning acts like letting men aggressively choke her, spit on her, and ejaculate onto her face. All the while her male counterparts mutter derogatory slurs and call her fat as she nods and smiles.

Here’s the tricky part. By condemning her sexual actions, am I putting her into a box? Why is it that men can subtly or aggressively fuck women on camera-and no one cares. After watching the film, I felt deeply conflicted. SHOULD it matter what type of porn she acts in? Ultimately, I feel that this sort of sexual action is exploitative, especially when caught on camera and made accessible to the masses. I don’t think violent porn should be made or viewed by either gender. When acts of violence are perpetuated throughout our society- it encourages men to continue the violence, and sets women up to further receive the abuse.

AND here’s the kicker….how can one become empowered when creating videos to be consumed by a predominantly MALE audience? Are you really empowering yourself by baring your body for men to masturbate to? I ultimately feel that there is some sort of psychological factors going on underneath all the “empowerment”, which our friend Belle may not realize for years to come. So, although she is free and legal to work and display her body as she pleases, the action can no longer be “empowering” or “feminist” because it furthers the cycle of violence against not only sex workers, but women outside the industry as well .

So go ahead. Have sex, use a condom, even film it if you want to. But please, PLEASE, don’t classify yourself as a feminist and then fuel the demands of patriarchy. Belle Knox, you’re smarter than that.