Another one bites the dust...

Le sigh. So, the sweet, charming, and funny guy I met the other day has decided that he is going to be smart, charming and funny with somebody else. We only went on one date, but after over 50 emails and many, many texts combined with a fantastic date- I'm left feeling pretty disappointed. I'm not crying into my cheerios, but I am bummed out.

Everyone keeps telling me to stop looking, focus on myself and enjoy being single. It's great advice but it's much easier said than done. I really hate being single. I like cooking dinner with someone every night and cuddling on the couch. I like having someone to text all the time and vent to about school or work or whatever. I know Mr. Right is out there somewhere and I just need to be patient. But anyone who knows me knows that patience is NOT my strongest suit. I guess it's not as if I have any choice at this point.

I was kinda proud of myself yesterday. When Dom and I split I was a snotty mess for a few weeks. I didn't leave the house or even shower unless I was forced to go to school. I stopped eating and lost nearly ten pounds (all of which came back when I went home- I blame In-n-Out and Taco Bell) and I was basically a mess. Yesterday, I saw the hand writing on the wall with email date dude, and rather than wallow at home I got dressed, slapped on my sparkle headband and walked up to the pub with my book. And, wouldn't you know it I made some new friends. Actually, it was kind of funny how I met the new friends. I saw a couple come into the pub and just glancing at them, I could tell the girl was American. It's sort of like a sixth sense I have, Yankee radar or something. Anyway, I saw her go out for a cigarette and I leaped out of my seat, knocking an old man over in the process, to also go and smoke. I asked for a light and she heard my accent and we immediately launched into bitching about the lack of Taco Bell and good hot wings. She introduced me to everyone in the pub and the old man I knocked over will probably live. It was a good night out.

I have decided to move out of the house that Dom and I moved into together and into my own place. It's time. This place doesn't hold a lot of good memories for me and I'm ready to have my own little apartment. I plan to make it extra super duper girly and cheerful. I'm looking forward to a year of fresh starts and hope. Lots of hope.

Happy New Year and all that...

Happy New Year to all three of you that read my blog! It's been a hell of a year and I'm feeling pretty positive about 2011. Jenn and I are nursing our hangovers and bitching that we can't have breakfast tacos in this Mexican food wasteland. I do really like it here, but there need to me more diners and places that serve delicious Mexican food. On New Years Day at 11 a.m. Wishful thinking I suppose.

In the New Year I plan to be really fucking positive. I'm always cheerful (for the most part) but sometimes I forget the forest for the trees (pardon the cliche) and I let myself think negatively. Honestly, what good comes of that?

I met someone the other night. He's really wonderful and smart and handsome and I'm trying not to get ahead of myself and plan our children's names or china pattern. I'm just going to chill out and enjoy this one. He seems great and I really hope it works out and all that.

I have a tattoo on my foot that says 'hope.' While I know this is cheesy as can be, sometimes I look down and see it and feel really fucking hopeful. So, that's my motto for the New Year- Hope. Not lose weight, or stop smoking or any of that- I just want to live positively and hope.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Home again...

and it feels so good. Everyone keeps talking about how cold it is here, and I'm constantly like "jigga what? It's balmy and warm here psychos!" Anyway, I've fallen into a time warp and I'm back to this summer. Literally. I came back from the bar this evening (again time warp!) after work and my mom had washed and hung my work shirt in my room. Can I get a boo-yeah? I love the magical car full of gas, fridge full of food and laundry that magically cleans itself. Can I stay here?

I'm back to work, which is typically full of ups and downs. I literally threw a menu at a customer tonight. He was being a prick and deserved it, but still I threw a menu at him. Not going to lie, I felt better afterwards. Remarkably, he left me a $2 tip on $25, hmm I wonder why? Other than the assholes, it's nice being back at work. And tips are luuurvely.

So yeah, I'm back briefly. I am considering extending my stay here, but I'm not sure if I'll do any work in this lovely, fun environment. Meanwhile I'm enjoying the compliments (I missed my regulars at work and their love), sun, family, and my big brown dog. Oh, and proper cocktails. God bless the USA.

One of those days....

It's one of those days. You know the really shitty ones, where you feel really shitty and you feel like throwing things at the world for being such a shitty inhospitable place. Yup. That's today.

I'm trying to stay positive and stick it out until I leave for America on Monday. It sucks.

Anyway, so I was watching Sex and the City (why yes I have become a cliche, deal with it) and it was the episode where Aiden moves out and she faces losing her apartment. To put it mildly, I could totally relate.

It brought me to really thinking about home, and the idea of home. I felt really at home here when Dom and I lived together, to the point that I cried when I landed in Manchester in November. But, now that he's decided to be an *insert expletive here* I'm feeling really discombobulated.

The fact of the matter is- I have to stay in the UK. At least until 2012 when I graduate and become a master. I like to consider myself to be becoming "the master," but that's another point entirely. So, essentially, this is my home now. I've lived a lot of places (at least 19 from a quick count) and I've felt at home in many of those places. Some, not so much. So, what is home then to me? I'm from the Bay Area, lived a big chunk of my 20's in Fresno and now I live in the UK. Home is home (mom's house) but it's here too. I did love it here until my world came crashing down, which leads me to believe I'll love it again. So then will I feel at home? Am I so fickle that I only feel at home when I'm happy? That's pretty damn shallow if that's the truth.

Excuse the crazy, it keeps popping up even when I try to keep it down. It'll be gone soon.

I go 'home' Monday. I'm thrilled to bits. I go back to my old job for a few weeks (oh how I miss tips) and I get to be pampered by mommy. My sister will drive me crazy and the fat dog will try and sit on my lap. I'm going to eat my weight in Mexican Food, Sushi and American food in general. Vanessa and I will drink at the Black Watch and I'll moan about not wanting to go to work. It's going to be amazing. And then I'll come back to my home here. Maybe that will be amazing too?

To go out or not to go out....

I feel I ought to go out tonight, as this party girl knows her party panties are growing mold. But, bollocks this weather SUCKS! It's a foot of snow outside and I know I can't wear cute shoes. Ugh, I'm being a whiner I know it- but this weather blows! I can't wait to go home and drive a car in non-snowy weather, wear high heels to the bar and schmooze it up with my friends. Maybe I'll just put my liver on hold until then.

Nah.

Good times and bad times...

I haven't posted here in a long time. Le sigh, I wish I had posted during the happy-go-lucky time of when I first moved to the UK. Things have been rough lately, my mom was really sick and I had to quickly fly back home to the States to be with her. She's better now, and here's hoping she continues to improve. Sometimes things aren't puppies and sunshine. Sometimes things are really fucking hard. If I've learned anything in my 29 years, it's that things get better. Eventually.

So, for now I'm focusing on my mom improving. I have great friends. It's Thanksgiving week and there is a helluva lot to be thankful for. It'll get better.

Space Bags are...

... the cat's pajamas. The dog's bollocks. The porcupines pinafore. The ferret's frock. Ok, ok I'll stop. But, seriously dude- they're totally awesome. Yes, I just said dude, totally and awesome in the same sentence. I watch a lot of bad reality TV, so sue me. Anyway, these space gizmos are going to enable me to pack a LOT more clothes than I thought I'd be able to. Always good news for a little clothes horse like me.

I'm 70% packed as of this point. I can hear you dying of excitement at this news, but heck it's exciting for me. Currently, I feel like I hear the word exciting 100 times a day. And here's why: my lovely friend Vanessa also works in a restaurant, and she advised me to tell everyone that I'm leaving for grad school in a foreign country at the end of the week. Her *very smart* opinion was that it will increase my tips by quite a bit. And she's totally right. Here's a typical conversation between me and a customer at work. Usually, while I'm giving them their bill they'll bring up next time they'll be in or something of the sort.

Me: "Oh bummer dude, next time you come in I won't be here anymore. Saturday is my last day, because I'm moving."

Customer- "Really? Where are you moving?"

Me: "Actually, I'm moving to the UK."

Customer: "Wow, the UK! Oh my goodness, how exciting!"

Me: "Yes, yes I'm very excited."

Customer: "Well that's just great. Why?"

Me: "I'm going to Graduate School there."

Customer: "Grad School, what for? That's so exciting!"

Me: "Theatre. Yes, yes thank you I'm very excited."

And so on. The word exciting might come up 6 more times.

Then they tip me double what they would have and go about their merry way. I literally have this conversation 20 times a day. Even my regulars who've known for the past couple of weeks talk about how "excited" they are for me. It's kinda cool. It's kinda daunting.

I'm really excited. :)