Happy me.

I had so much blissful, chocolate-covered-with-a-cherry-on-top fun today that I don’t want to go to sleep.

I just keep scrolling back over to the  camera-phone pictures I uploaded to Facebook so I can see it all again.

There’s me at the Chicago Diner and there’s that awesome picture of the skyline. OH! OH! And there’s me holding Bronson’s martini glass so I can look cool.

I have not lately been as calm as I was sipping my $8 hot-chocolate-with-caramel-minus-the-marshmallows in the Signature Room at the Hancock. Looking down over the entire city of golden lights and black diamond buildings and a pond so big they call it a lake, I was all-good.

The world was small. And I could conquer it any day of the week. Twice on Sunday.

Sometimes I forget that I have that ability. Bronson made me remember though.

For all of today.

And I was just me.

Just happy me.

There. I’m done now. Feel free to puke from the joy of it all.


I was born in ’83 for those keeping track.


A city to love.


No alcohol was used in the making of this picture.

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Thankful for my family.

I took this video on Thanksgiving. It captures the holiday for me. Family, food and pretty ear rings.

A few footnotes:

Mark is my brother. He’s me in opposite land. (And he’s always got a smart comment).

One family was a couple hours late, but total we had 23 people.

The tofurky tastes WAY better than it looks. Also, the spinach dip was amazing!

Gladstone is my sister’s dad.

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see. this is why you shouldn’t have a stupid anonymous blog.

Dear SCVegan,

where the heck ARE you?

as my most loyal commenter it took me all of two posts to notice your absence. alas, i thought perhaps you had just decided i was no longer funny.

but now, it’s been a few weeks, and not only have you stopped responding to my musings, but you also haven’t blogged or tweeted yourself since June 29.

and im not going to lie. im worried about you.

seriously. im freaking out over here.

i even sent you a concerned e-mail in which i asked if you were perhaps trapped under a large bookshelf, but you have yet to reply.

the worst part of this whole mess is that i cannot even find you if i wanted to.

all i know is that you are vegan; you most likely live in santa clarita, california; one of your names is nolan; and you work for a t-shirt design company.

yes, i HAVE typed all those things into Google, but even the master of search cannot help me with this.

i recently resorted to asking quarrygirl about you on twitter. sadly though, she doesn’t know where you are either.

my roommate insists that you are probably just on vacation, but i explained to her that people surly can at least tweet while out of town.

this whole travesty could have been avoided if you had just posted your full name on your site or sent me your phone number or SOMETHING!

instead, im left to sit here on my couch, worried that the worst has happened, while hoping that maybe someone just stole your laptop and you haven’t had time to go the library to use the interweb.

in conclusion, i really hope someone stole your lap top.

sincerely, love,


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