4.1?

In Malibu, which isn’t far from where I live?

I didn’t feel it in my sleep?

But I woke up at 1 AM in desperate need of water?

Good going, deep sleeping self.

In the two years since I was last in the city by the Bay, some things have changed and others haven’t.

Writing that sentence “in the two years since I was last in the city by the Bay” takes this post down a depressing road before it even begins. You’d think with a 90 minute flight time between SF and LA this wouldn’t be the case. But the last two years for me have had their share of ups and downs, all of which have been time consuming enough in their own way to prevent me from making a proper return. Proper vacations and even visits rely on said visitor to not only make the time but also the money to treat themselves as they should be treated during their stay.

In the two years since I was last in the city by the Bay, I graduated from college. I had a shitty job I hated for nine months. I got an amazing job right after working in social media and picked up some incredible freelance writing gigs along the way. I’ve been busy in the year since, attending to both my professional life and personal one. You’d be surprised at how this can translate to edging trips back up North out into a TBD gray space.

In May 2010, I was “living” out of a hotel room in San Francisco trying to decide if I should take a job in the city and scrimp it and pinch it in a tiny apartment with no kitchen on Bush Street or go for someplace else. I’ve often wondered what my life would have been like had I stayed and not moved back to SoCal. It’s a strange thought to have because I’m pretty sure that had I stayed the 2012 version of me would have been a whole other girl. She wouldn’t have been the right kind of girl or the wrong kind, just different from me as a city visitor. I often think she would have felt like something was missing. But knowing what I know now and all of the wonderful opportunities and people I have in my life, I wonder if she’d know to feel that way or even have an idea of what that “missing” piece was.

Coming back to San Francisco for the long weekend felt just right. It felt like a bonafide treat. I work hard, I play hard. I made the time, I made the money.

The gray space turned blue for the long weekend and what a beautiful blue it was.

A few weeks prior to my stay, I tweeted at the hotel Twitter account, attempting to get my hands on any and all Memorial Day weekend staying specials they had. We had some pretty good conversations back and forth and I got the deal I wanted and booked the stay. I was greeted at the hotel with, “You’re the girl from Twitter!” by the concierge and with this very fitting (since I work with social media as it is!) little display of free snacks, rubber duck, and personalized note.

It was also the same weekend of the Golden Gate Bridge’s 75th anniversary and the big hearts in Union Square were decorated for the occasion. (see first photo)

I can’t ever go into the city without paying the Benefit store on O’Farrell a visit for a beauty stock-up!

After buying makeup and eating dinner, it was time to do my other favorite Friday night activity and drink. I went to Harry Denton’s Starlight Room first since it had been recently remodeled and had some champagne. Um, apparently they remodeled the drink menu too and my favorite drink was GONE. Luckily my bartender was able to make it but it was a old moment for me.

On a whim, I followed this visit up with a trip to The Irish Bank, a pub down the street from my hotel. Smart move, as you can see from my double fisting the Irish coffee and gin and tonic in the above photo (I don’t know why so many people had to comment on that either… I have hot alcohol and booze over ice. I’m covering all of my drinking bases here.)

There was a table of hot guys right behind me and I did meet a British guy BUT with my luck being the way it is, the British guy wasn’t hot and I wound up making bar friends with a girl sitting next to me from Montana. I think my two drinks minimum in front of me was what scared away the guys- why buy the girl a drink when she obviously has it covered?

A couple of hours later, I went back to the hotel, fell asleep, and woke up with a headache and the aftermath of a dream involving me and Peter Dinklage that I’m not about to recount here (it was hot though). But the sky was blue, the sun was out, and it was 7 AM- time to get going and hit up the Ferry Building and the Wharf!

Only in San Francisco will I ever, EVER be this enthusiastic about doing the whole “rise and shine!” thing.

I now know where the secret empty cable cars for picture taking location is in the city!

Blue Bottle is notorious for its no-frills straight-up espresso and line that can keep you waiting for 45 minutes, minimum. Highly recommended.

The lovely Bay Bridge, in lovely warm weather actually. I spent the entire day in a light blazer. No coat. I could have worn shorts if I wanted to. THAT AIN’T NORMAL BUT I LIKED IT.

Boudins by the Wharf, which I pretty much ran to and had a full lunch at 10:30 in the morning at. My eating schedule was so splintered during this trip, but anytime is a good time for Boudins.

I have this magic ability to find random Tommy Wiseau anything no matter where I go and the fact that a spy shop had a display of denim jeans and a poster from the The Room down some random side alley that just happened to catch my eye was no exception. Oh hi, Mark.

Because we all need an artsy fartsy Instagram photo of a random street in this world.

It should be noted that after a day of wearing heels and walking from Nob Hill to the Ferry Building to the Wharf, and with a brief visit to Chinatown I didn’t pull that stunt again on Sunday. No matter how thick the heel, eventually you’ll feel as though your shoes are filling up with blood and the makings of future blisters.

Sunday morning at my favorite European cafe, Cafe de la Presse. The only one I know of where they keep a full magazine rack of international glossy fashion mags to read while eating.

Then a visit to Haight Ashbury, which is about an hour long walk to get to if you take my normal route there and not the fucked up Google Maps one that has you wandering up and down a million side streets. Take Sutter to Divisadero, make a left, and make a right at Haight. Easy peasy. And on the way back, you can take pretty much any street that pops up before Sutter and be right back in the same neighborhood you started from again.

Put your burgers ‘n fries in the air like they just don’t care.

That shop had to be a more recent development- I would remember a burger place showing up next door to a glass pipe store.

Eventually wandering back down to Market Street and paying some shopping spots a visit. I didn’t get this dress at Zara because they didn’t plan on having a sale for the weekend but I did get a fantastic navy blue swingy dress at H&M on sale for the company mixer.

It’s rare for me to post a photo of myself too so enjoy it- I have a hard time taking camera phone picture shots without covering my entire face.

Can’t go to the city without at least one visit to Francis Ford Coppola’s old writing spot, Cafe Zoetrope. Trekked into Chinatown and down the Jack Kerouac Alley for this one.

Speaking of Chinatown, I had dinner at the Hang Ah Tea Room that night which is a wonderful, blink and you might miss it Chinese restaurant down a side street on Sacramento. Try not to miss it because it’s scrumptious.

Outside of the Chinatown gates and onward to one last watering hole before the end of the night and my flight in the morning back home.

And one last personal story for the road…

The Prada Storefront Story

One of the most significant places to me in this entire city will always be the Prada storefront in Union Square. Atop the store is about 9 or 10 more stories of a building. One of the tip top stories contains the company that was almost my future had I continued to live in SF. I got offered and hired for a job there, the infamous one that wanted me to start off as an unpaid intern for 3 months before moving onto a full-time paid position.

Oh, the emotions that ran high overthinking the hell out of this one. I know I would have liked to work there. Even now, I don’t hold any hard feelings toward the company or its CEO, Layne. But you know what turned me away from accepting the job?

The view.

That was one of Layne’s attempted selling points to get me to come on board working with her team. The view was breathtaking. A straight cut right through the heart of the Financial District. You could even see the Bay Bridge in the distance which was Fabulous with a capital F. And to call it an “attempt” at selling me is being completely inaccurate- fuck it, I wanted all of that right then. But the nagging thought I continued to have staring out of those windows atop that pricey piece of commercial real estate was, “Butttttt?”

A view is surface based. It’s pretty to look at but it can’t feed you physically. With no paycheck for 3 months, I’d be like Icarus flying into the sun. On top of the world on the surface but getting burned in every other which way I could.

I like to stay as grounded as possible.

So yeah, there’s the storefront story about my once future self. Want to hear something even funnier? You could see it straight from my hotel room. Interesting that my present should face my past, in the aptly Greek mythology character named hotel, The Triton.

A different girl indeed. Not the right kind or the wrong kind either.

-Heather

Because it’s summertime and the living is easy/breezy/beautiful CoverGirl.

1) Tan

Physically, I can’t do it. My skin is far too fair for the sun. This year in particular I’ve taken to keeping a small vial of sunscreen in my handbag because you never know whether I might be trapped in an outdoor setting for too long in a sleeveless blouse. I tend to turn rosy easy and burn bright pink at my worst. Last year I got a terrible sunburn at the beach and had to wear long sleeves for a few weeks and felt like I was running a fever constantly. Why didn’t I wear more sunscreen? Because it was overcast out. LA LA LA THOSE CLOUDS WON’T LET ME BURN.

I would come home from work, slather myself up with a boatload of aloe vera and lie on my bed in a strapless bra which hurt to wear. So ultrafabulous. I called it Sunburn Watch 2011. I tweeted my pain. Everyone was sick of me and my Sunburn updates (2011).

2) Go Camping

I am more of a “glamper” if you had to peg me into any corner of the camping experience since all of my past experiences with camping included staying in huge clean cabins with AC. But yeah, not into camping or being in a potentially bear-filled environment and DEFINITELY not into poison ivy/oak in all the places.

My “glamping” experience in middle school was interesting. In the sixth grade I went on my first camping trip with my class and learned a few things about myself and the rules of camping:

1) I packed way too much stuff for the span of a week, a trait I have yet to stop doing.

2) Once unrolled, you can never roll your sleeping bag back up as tightly as Mom did and thus will have to resort to sticking it in a Hefty trash bag for the ride back home from laziness.

3) A lot of weird shit went down on this trip. Some of my classmates found an abandoned car in the middle of the woods by the girls cabins. Another night flashlights were shining out on us from the woods which prompted everyone to scream and run to the cabins. And still another night there were gunshots in the area. Don’t ask.

4) You won’t be glamping alone with your class only. Every private Lutheran middle school in the district was there too. This was both entertaining and irritating all at once because private school kids tend to act like they’re their own island. The moment we realize there’s more of us is the moment where an instinct to either act cooler than thou or shrivel up from intimation occurs. As cocky sixth graders I bet you can guess which one we picked.

5) I worked as a hopper which was mandatory for all the kids. Hoppers were the people who brought your entire grade (all 30 people) breakfast/lunch/dinner during meal time and lorded over the tables to be sure that everything was tasty and everyone was happy. I did very well at my “hopping” job, constantly popping up and checking on everyone and bringing spare chips to the table. Between this and the next year in which I’d be assigned to direct the food department for our 1950’s themed school dance, I’d say the universe was foreshadowing my early years before the 4 year Subway servitude stint.

But even as a glamper in middle school I was super excited to get home when the week was over. My bag was packed a day early, I was the first person on the bus, and I was genuinely stoked once we hit traffic on the way back home.

3) Float Trips

It’s basically a weekend in an inflatable boat on the water with cases of Bud surrounding you. Or so everyone who I know has described it to be. I mean I get it but come on now. We can drink indoors in fancy glasses where there’s WiFi and your phone won’t disappear into the river somewhere!

4) Family Vacations

There was no one thing I dreaded more growing up than hearing my parents tell me, “We’re pulling you out of school for a couple of days to go visit the relatives.” Within hours of hearing this, each and every time I started getting flu-like symptoms to the point where I’d be throwing up on the zillion hour car ride there way too many times to count.

As a kid I was extremely resentful that everyone else I knew would go to Disneyworld or Denver for their family vacations whereupon I would be trapped in a car going to my grandmother’s in Ohio or worse, my uncle’s in Minnesota. There was literally nothing to do at their homes. Nothing. Everyone lived way out in the middle of nowhere and making the middle of nowhere fun is an almost impossible task. You needed to rely on the climate for an adventure (getting caught in a thunderstorm, woo!) or a car to take you someplace else for a bit which would always end on the same note: going back to the place you left behind and feeling immediately resentful to be back there again.

5) Fireworks

Going to firework shows, yes.

Lighting up my own fireworks, no.

-HT

I have a friend named Sara who is an incredibly awesome lady. Come with me on the journey of our friendship/relationship/co-dependency on one another as documented by a bunch of GIFs.

When we first started living together and I would hear her in the kitchen making breakfast and being awake at 8 AM on a Saturday while I continued to lie in my bed and not move until 11 AM.

(Note: I now wake up at 7 AM on Saturdays. Not sure how to feel about this… but I like it? OH NO.)

That night we went to the LA Confidential party and both met Elijah Wood and Jesse Tyler Ferguson. And then we went to an all day event for HBO the morning after. Lifestyles at the Canyons, yo.

(I’m not going to write here what she said to Jesse that has since become a long running joke between us but SHE KNOWS WHAT IT WAS.)

Me, when she told me for the first time that she was moving out.

Living with B and having to listen to all of her “problems.”

What I’m sure she’s thought about me and some of the more ridiculous situations I got myself into during college at least ONCE.

This sums up everything about us in a neat little nutshell.

When we’d be sitting on the couch together, watching movies, and dicking around online with Kenna (her cat) somewhere nearby and food on the floor around us.

In social situations and fancy parties/events. Viola is me, btw.

What riding in the car with us is like. Sara’s the cool driver here. I’m the easily mortified and embarrassed one.

Watching True Blood, Boardwalk Empire, and Game of Thrones together.

My last birthday at Saddle Ranch. Jesus Christ, what a night.

Shopping at The Oaks/Topanga and also basically our general fabulousness on and off the college campus.

I don’t even know with this one but it felt appropriate.

With love,
HT

“Businesses are already singing the praises of Pinterest and trying to get their products pinned by consumers. So, Pinterest shouldn’t have a very hard time growing in terms of profit and popularity this year.”
-actual set of sentences from a guest blogger that I am attempting to edit.

It’s nice to know that grown adults representing corporations still write like college kids bullshitting an essay at the last minute.

Using a picture of Romy and Michele wearing Post-It dresses to preface this post with its seriousness of the things I can and will accomplish by the end of August.

Though technically I am no longer a student at this point and so my summer lasts FOREVER.

In no particular order:

1) Go on a juice cleanse and write about my pain and suffering on the caffeine withdraw front. We’ll save this one for June, I wanna go to Trader Joe’s this weekend and get some French Berry Lemonade.

2) Work out daily which has been happening for the last 3 weeks! Minus last night when I took that nap after work. But c’mon now I had been in the office since 6:30 AM. I needed it.

3) Make an incredible summertime music playlist and listen to as much music as humanly possible.

4) Go to San Francisco and rekindle that love affair all over again (happening in one more week!)

5) Go to Chicago for that Leo Burnett headquarters tour I got invited on. I do not need to be told twice to get myself to the birthplace of the Pillsbury Doughboy. I just have to figure out when to go… and if I can wrangle the STL bestie to meet up with me there.

6) Finish all of the episodes of Cougar Town. Challenge accepted.

7) Stay up late every night watching the Summer Olympics.

8) Be super responsible at work with my two fellow social media team members both in Ireland and London for the summer respectively. Keep them busy with blog assignments and news from America. Try not to imagine flying over there to hang out for the weekend at a pub all together…

9) Get super cool roomie (or roomies) at the apartment. No kleptos or druggies or people who claim not to be actors but then you find their IMDB headshot like 20 minutes later from a quick Google search and wonder why they were so adamant on saying they weren’t in the industry…

10) Optional summer fling. That has now been put out there on the table. I feel like Brian Griffin when he was attempting to get Lois to read his manuscript. “I’ll just leave this here… and I’ll leave a pen with it too for easy edits while I’m at it.”

-HT