Weekend Recap #2

I have this rule which most of San Francisco does not obey... I will not use Twitter 5 hours before and 5 hours after a date. As a consequence, it takes much restraint to not Tweet during horribly awkward moments and I desperately want someone to come save me. Additionally, it also means I avoid possibly embarrassing situations induced by broadcasting my initial thoughts on someone, especially when they are along the lines of "Omg, I can't wait to hardcore make out with this person." There are just some things better left unsaid.

Anyway, I had a date last night. It was a learning experience in what life would be like in the heart of Silicon Valley, the best part was that I did not have to pay a dime for this learning exposure. Here's what I learned:

1. Parking anywhere in Silicon Valley is just as bad as San Francisco unless you are going to Best Buy. Because real geeks don't go to Best Buy, ever.
2. Bars in Palo Alto play songs you haven't heard since Middle School and the guys at the parties are just as awkward as they were in middle school. It's a time trap.
3. Stanford is an exceptionally pretty campus which could use a few more lights on all their palm trees. The campus deserves more exploration in the daytime and a more adventurous companion who may or may not have access to their engineering building.
4. Just like all suburbs with excellent school systems, everything closes at 11. And there's no diners, an epic fail.
5. Nothing like seeing a bunch of drunk Venture Capitalists acting like douchebags around pretty girls and the geeks rubbing their eyes after leaving their computers for 5 minutes in order to grab a bite to eat. Or seeing a geek get drunk after a beer and then expertley disect their bodies reactions to alcohol.
6. The streets don't smell like piss, a huge plus.

Despite all the glamour and money in Palo Alto, this girl would much prefer a dive bar with guys who can handle their liquor and comfortable navigating public transportation. It sounds so primitive, but there's just something more authentic about San Francisco. I'm just not ready for cookie cutter suburbs and accept Bobby Brown as good music for a club.

Best,
Zsa Zsa

Weekend Recap #1

Life of the glamorous often produces dramatic moments. It's like aggressive investing, the rewards are astronomical but the losses are just as severe. When Barry told me I lost a couple million during the first bubble burst, I finally understood why all those bankers jumped out of their offices after Black Tuesday. One would have thought the amount of champagne and cigarettes those bankers consumed would leave them in a perpetual state of bliss, but factor in the cocaine and loss of money, and withdrawal (btw, which is worse, substance withdrawal or lifestyle withdrawal?) it's easy to be sympathetic to their plight.

Anyway, this morning on my way to brunch I was met with the most awful sort of news. A mentor and professor of mine who lured me out to the great state of California hung himself. After getting over the initial shock and slurping down a couple cups of jasmine green tea, I regained composure. My spiritual adviser, Norma, certainly helped. Despite understanding that Professor David is now a true master of death, something he's been dreaming of since he discovered the infinite and permanent state of death, I can't help but say, "Fuck. You."

Fuck you, writers. It is unheard of to go this many years knowing literary fellows who have decided to take their one lives. And why Fall? Always the Fall. I get it, you don't want to reach your winter years, but don't you understand that having this matter of consistency of suicide in one given season is kinda umm... predictable? Overdone? Cliche? Perhaps this is my fourth and final year knowing a glamorous person who decided the only truly way to die is at your own hands. But, fuck you.

This calls for an emergency yoga class. My anger is boiling up enough to warrant a barbaric class such as kick-boxing but Yasmine insists I must maintain composure through balance and breathe. You know what, fuck you too Yasmine. I'm over this balance shit. It's time to get drunk.

Best,
Zsa Zsa

Some memes are just lame...

Dear Lowly counterparts,

Let me introduce you to this concept called "meme."  Do not make the same mistake I did when tipsy at a cocktail party you referred to it as "Me Me," instead it's like "meem"  but that just looks funny.  

Anyway, today's meme is everyone saying, "Seven years ago today I..."  Look, I realize something kinda big happened 7 years ago, but are we going to be saying this every year? This year I would say, "Seven years ago today I ran to my dorm room and tried to call my Mom stuck in NYC, my Dad stuck at the airport, and my brother packing for Nepal."  It's going to get kinda redundant.  I can already program my calendar to blast updates to everyone I know on 9/11 of every year reminding them of what I was doing on 9/11/01.  It would never change.  Ever. That day happened. We've all told what we were doing on that day, so enough.  

It sucked. Then things got worse after it as a consequence, and where are we now?  Reliving the most traumatic day my generation knows?  

Sorry to get all political, but honestly... "Seven years ago today I never would have thought nothing would really change."  

Also, I had my first "Hey, I know you from Twitter" moments.  Just some random guy, at a bar comes up to me and says, "You were the one who talked about leaving Hollywood, I recognized you from your avatar."

Oh, San Francisco.  Please never change.

Best,

Zsa Zsa

Fairy Tales Come True

Just a heads up...

Your online identity will turn into a pumpkin at 12:00 AM EDT/ 9:00 PM PDT tonight.  

Now I must rest because half of you are going to wake up pissed off you're a pumpkin and the other half will just not care.

Best,

Zsa Zsa

I'm in the mood for a good bombing

Life on the farm gets challenging.  I'm not one to complain, but there are days when I get all knocked up (*note: Look up how Jane Austen uses that term, you dimwit). Dealing with the servants, cooks, butler, and gardners can leave a girl knackered, hankering for something stiff.  Possibly with a twist of lime.  How many times must I tell Ingrid the napkins get folded left to right, and Jose constantly disobeoyes my request for the elephant's left leg to be lifted in line with his trunk.  

Come on people, haven't you seen Josuhua Fraser's Versailes Design? 

Well, all of this fretting around the farm instigated quite the scene when I went down to the Farmer's Market today.  Sarah, the flower girl, always has my wildflower boquet ready.  However, Sarah was apparently not in charge of the stand today and consequently I had to deal with Gregory (who is not Sampson).  When he handed me a boquet of Sunflowers he asked me what was wrong?! I mean, COME ON PEOPLE!!!  WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?! 

The cops coming in to interfere was completely unnecessary, and their accusations that I threw a vase at Gregory are completely unfounded.  Alas, Barry will have to represent me in court and it's always a struggle when your ex-husband is your criminal defense attorney.  Hope Judge Wickett is on the bench that day ;)

Best,
Zsa Zsa

Greetings.

Because apparently the South is still in denial of the fact they are part of the United States of America, I have to go ahead and start a blog dedicated to life in California. 

A little bit about California: this place is overrun by gangsters, cowboys, and Indians.  Apparently you just need one blog post saying California is the Gold Coast and society's rufians and  roughnecks come running.  Don't come here, ever. It's awful.  Especially Northern California.  

I don't want you here, now get out.  

And Welcome. 

Fun fact: San Francisco is currently dancing in the streets in celebration of the rainbow colored iPod Nanos. No joke, just look: 

Best,

Zsa Zsa