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Ryan Adams & The Cardinals | Zellerbach Hall – January 28, 2007, originally uploaded by Aubs.

Am emotionally spent from absolutely adoring the experience I had tonight seeing Ryan Adams & The Cardinals. I have much, much more to say on this matter, but for now, I REALLY would like to buy that man a drink soda and listen to him talk all day long. Oh, and ok, maybe that night too…and I suppose we could replace “listen to him talk” with “do inappropriate things that I’ll not post here since my Mom reads my website but if you used your imagination you wouldn’t even grasp half of what I had in mind”.

Or something like that.

…you were born.

You were a wee little sprite of a thing, but also a headstrong one. It’s all I can do to post a photo of you NOT biting me, since that was far and away your favorite activity until you were about one. Instead, I choose to remember those times when you were sweet, serene, and (somewhat) sedate. Like this.

Moments like those were few and far between as a puppy…in fact, moments like those are few and far between even now. You’re currently standing sentry at the door growling at my landlord’s nine hundred thousand dogs that he has rescued (this man has a straight shot to the pearly gates when he goes, his heart is THAT BIG.) in case one of them would have the audacity to step a paw on our doormat. You’ve always been a pretty good watchdog, even when the "aggressor" in question is a butterfly.

You were (read: are) a mischevious dog, needing to get into whatever you find on the floor (or, too often, in my clothing hamper.) One day, you decided that the Easy-Off Oven Cleaner top was your new favorite toy. Hell, it’s cheaper than a Kong, so GO FOR IT.

As much as I had hoped (and wished and prayed) for it, you didn’t stay little for very long. Somehow – perhaps it was your predilection for the cat’s food – you got bigger and bigger and alas, turned into a very, VERY fuzzy puppy. (Currently, a very strong 32-pound dog, a whole 12 pounds more than any of your littermates as well as your parents. I say it’s b/c you’re tall, but who knows, maybe you shit out rocks. Actually, sometimes you do…)

I miss having a "proper" back yard for you – the transition to San Francisco was less than desirable, esp. when you refused to pee on concrete for the first month. (Hell, I don’t blame you. Who wants to pee on the sidewalk!?) You’ve adjusted, though, and have become a city dog after nearly 2 1/2 years here.  Thank God San Francisco is such a dog-friendly city, at least when it
comes to events. You’ve had your share of outings…Bay to Breakers,

…Dog Days at the Giants Game,

Halloween (one, two, THREE stupid outfits!),

Though as you’ve gotten older, you’ve started to grasp the concept of sleeping in. This has been a struggle I fight with EVERY SINGLE DAY SINCE I GOT YOU, especially since the first year of your life entailed a consistent 5am wakeup call. Didn’t matter if I kept you up until midnight, you still were bright-eyed and teensy-wagging bushy tailed when the rest of the (sane, dogless) world was still aslumber. The past few months, with me not working, have tested your limits in this whole "sleeping in" concept, and I’m proud to say that there was even a time that you didn’t budge from the bed until after 9. That’s NINE AM. IN THE MORNING. As in a whole FOUR HOURS after your previous wake-up time. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you.

You’re the first dog I’ve ever owned for myself, and despite the cat menagerie, there have been times that I’ve contemplated getting you a puppy playmate since your energy is endless. I hated leaving you when I trekked down to Google each day, and while your dog walker has been a lifesaver, I still wish you had a playmate who would chase you back when you decided to exert that puppy craziness on them. You know, besides me. But the more I thought about it, I didn’t think it would be fair – what if you didn’t get along? What if they were smaller than you (and, ok, better behaved when I took them on a walk) and I started taking THEM out more than you? Or what if they were bigger than you and bullied you around? I couldn’t handle it. So alas, probably similar to my parents acquiescing to one child, I’ve decided that at least for now, you’re going to be "An Only Dog" in this crazy, cat-laden menagerie-inducing household. Which, I think, is just the way it should be.

Happy Third Birthday, Lila Belle. I can’t imagine my life without  you, my early-rising, underwear-eating, cat food-dev0uring light of my life puppy…you’re the best.

I was recently asked the question: "Name a piece of dating advice that you and your friends have." Since my pals and I aren’t currently drafting The Rules: 2.0 nor do we sit around waxing poetic on witty epithets pertaining to the dating world, I had to go out on my own and come up with a "dating theory" that I have. It took me a while – after all, I haven’t had what most people would call a "normal dating history" – but the particular tenet that kept resonating with me was about the proverbial do-over. Namely: Second chances aren’t worth it – they never end well.  "Pretty good," I thought. And then I realized that I’ve come a little ways in the past five years. Let’s review.

A few years back, I found myself again engaged in a relationship that had basically run its course a year or so prior. It was always on-again/off-again, and the gentleman in question lived out of state. Probably goes back more to my commitment phobia than needs to be explained here, but by dating him (or NOT dating him, when that was the case) I maintained my individuality yet also had someone to (sort of) depend on when I needed him. And when he flaked, as he was apt to do, I had a built-in scapegoat. "He doesn’t deserve you," my friends would say, ignoring the all-too evident fact that he and I should have ended it years before. But we didn’t, and my 26-year old self was discontent and pretty vocal about that fact. I chastised myself for giving him not a second chance, but a third, as I still (naively?) believed that everyone at least deserves a second shot.

How things have changed.

I don’t know if it’s the reality of life and the frailty of love but I’ve drastically changed my views on this. I’ve seen people try too hard too many times to make it work once again when, in actuality, it wasn’t really working the first time. "Save yourselves the time and effort and pain!", I want to yell, and – ok I admit it – sometimes I do just that. If you’re spending your time being unhappy to try to coerce yourselves that there’s a slight chance of (perhaps feigned) happiness down the line, how does that make sense? I’m sure there’s an exception now and again to my now-rule, but I just see it as an exercise in futility. Sometimes it IS best to cut & run, or at least sever and allow yourself to heal on cordial terms.

You can lead a horse to water but can’t make him drink, and if you don’t succeed the first time, you can try, try again. Except for in love…sometimes it’s better to just let sleeping dogs lie. Or, as I coin my first ever idiom, Second chances don’t end well. Remember that…I’m going to try to myself.

Remember a little while ago when I directed you to my Tumblr page? No? What *IS* a Tumblr page? Here’s a little refresher:

Basically, Tumblr allows you to aggregate your online "presence" into one easy-to-read stream. For mine, I have my Twitters, posts from this site, my Flickr photos, the music I’ve been listening to and even the stories I’m Digging all sent to this handly little blog-ish like thing for a one-stop shop for all things Aubrey. As such, it lives – appropriately enough – at Aubsessed.com. By NO MEANS is it a replacement for this site, but for the three of you out there that just can’t get enough of yours truly (ok, there’s only probably TWO of you, and your names are Ed and Sue Sabala) feel free to head on over there now & again to get a bit more insight on what’s going on in my ever-so-lively life.

And please, no comments on my love of 80’s hip hop…it’s just who I am.

Upon launching my new (and hopefully streamlined) design for this site, I expected some feedback on various parts. Maybe y’all wouldn’t like that I grouped a lot of the extra stuff under the "ETC" pages. Or perhaps you’re OVER the black & white design. Or maybe, just MAYBE, you thought I should return AdWords to the home page so I could add a cent or two and finally go over my All Time Total Net Dividends of $2.46. I mean, once I hit $3 I could almost – ALMOST – buy myself a latte. What I didn’t expect is that nearly all of the feedback involved my Twitter stream, which I removed from the main page and sent over to my "Elsewhere" page. Who knew that you wanted to be reminded of my inane, 140-character stream of consciousness?

Well, you did (do?) and alas, I’ve listened. A snippet of my full Twitter stream has returned to its (seemingly) rightful place, right over THERE (to the right, to the right —>>) for all your viewing glory. Enjoy, but don’t hold it against me come February when I start drinking and stop making sense. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.

I mentioned on an earlier post that I’m foregoing alcohol for the month of January. I have quite a few friends who are doing this crazy "Health Month" thing that not only requires zero alcohol but also entails giving up everything good in the world (except sex) so I feel like my sacrifice is somewhat meager in the shadow of that craziness. Except that those insane folks get one Amnesty Day, which I both covet and am subsequently happy that I don’t have. Because I think once I gave myself the proverbial inch, I’d take my former tee-totaling self to Fly Bar faster than you can say "Poppy Jasper" and stay there for, say, a week. Or maybe two. (I’m unemployed, after all, and it’s within walking distance.) I am many things, and a person of absolutes is one of them.

Twenty-one days into this quest (which, may I add, is going splendidly for all three of us involved) and I’ve found myself noticing the following things:

• I have an insane sense of smell, currently nearing SuperPower proportions. You have a glass of wine WAY over there at the other side of the room? I assure you, I can smell it, just like I can smell that stank-ass beer on your breath. Please, I beg of you, have a mint. (Note that I also found this during the Master Cleanse back in July but didn’t at the time attribute it to the lack of alcohol, though it seems that must be the case as it’s the only common factor between both endeavors.)
• Drunk people aren’t as funny as they think they are. Unshocking, I know. They also don’t think I’m very fun.
• I have no desire to get drunk. This one surprises me a little – I consider myself an enjoyable tipsy-like gal – but really, all I want is a glass of wine. A GOOD glass of wine at that.
• It’s easier to give up other ‘vices’ during a time of restraint. In fact, for the past week, I’ve also restricted refined sugars and most (non-vegetable) carbs with very little effort.
• I don’t actually FEEL that much better. Also a surprise, I don’t know if this is because I don’t really get hangovers to begin with or if my poor body also needs a more thorough cleanse. Or perhaps I always feel pretty ok.
• Drinking is mainly a social activity for me. As I suspected, it isn’t hard not to drink when I’m at home; then again, I’m not really a "get home, open a bottle of wine" type of gal, so that makes sense. It’s when I’m out at dinner or at the lodge after a morning of skiing that I really want to imbibe in a glass of red wine or a Blue Moon replete with orange wedge. YUM.
• People think I’m crazy. I’ve gotten so many "Who are you and what have you done with the Aubs I know and love?" emails and texts that I’m becoming glad that I’m doing this when I am. Because while I love to be the life of the party, I don’t ever want to become the person that can’t exist without a drink in their hand. There’s something to say about moderation, and it’s due time for me to be exercising a bit of it.

With only ten more days to go, I wonder how this will affect me in the long term. Will I never get drunk again? Impossible – I know myself and am sure that at some point in the next 70+ (God willing) years I’ll tie one on to the point I’ll swear to the heavens that I’ll never drink again. (After all, I have my bachelorette party to attend!) But I would love to use this as a tapering mechanism, a reminder that alcohol doesn’t need to be the central factor around which all social activities revolve.

Though if you want to buy me a drink at midnight on the 31st, I know someone who will be long overdue for a Poppy Jasper. Or four.

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How can you resist this face?, originally uploaded by Aubs.

If the number of treats she geta a week is any indication, *I* can’t.

With over seven years of content on my website, it’s no wonder I don’t revisit the past as often as I should. (Which probably is a good indication as to why I keep finding myself somewhat repeating it…) And yet when I do, I’d better save at least an hour to go through old posts and – more time-consuming than anything – old photos. Which, on yet another day where I have VERY little to do (only because I’ve been up since 6am and already went climbing, read/watched the MacWorld keynote, and accomplished EVERY LAST THING on my to-do list!) is exactly what I’ve been doing for the last half-hour. Prompted by Daisy’s question of whether or not she should cut her hair (I directed her to my old post showing the aftermath of my Locks of Love donation) I found myself sucked into my pre-Flickr Typepad photo gallery days. Which has caused me to question the important things: my taste in men, my taste in drinks and – most importantly – my taste in fashion. To note:

   

       

   
            

       
               
       
            

            

               

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WHAT THE HELL AM I WEARING? If there was a fugly contest where users had to design the most hideous of dresses, I’m sure I would have been the grand prize winner. Keyhole neck? ZEBRA PRINT-slash-PALM LEAF PATTERNED? For God’s sake, this was what I wore to the going-away party I was throwing my then-boyfriend! That whole "moving to Chicago, going to B-School" reason for dumping me was a farce; CLEARLY he was appalled by my taste in clothing.

   

       

   
            

       
               
       
            

            

               

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I honestly can’t believe that I am putting this photo up, but I think the world is a much safer place if people know my shortcomings (and can prevent me from ever doing something like this again in the future.) We were at my friend Val’s 26th birthday party – the theme was Ghetto-fabulous – and for some reason I decided not ONLY to wear a one-piece velour jumpsuit, but also dress up as Eve, replete with the paw print tattoos on my chest. AND THEN UNZIP IT TO MY NAVEL. I’m starting to understand why I’m still single…

   
   
   
   
   
   

   

       

   
            

       
               
       
            

            

               

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I have nothing bad to say about this costume – I made $50. (Note that I had a flippable "cost" sign so that I could determine how much I should charge per kiss. That, and the $40 I got for smooching a clown helped.

My friend sent this to me the other day and it’s become a running joke between us since – ok, we admit it – we’re THIRTY, and even though we’re both still unmarried, it’s far too accurate for our liking.

ENJOY.

<a href="http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/b776c00c54">Weekend Plans</a> on <a href="http://www.funnyordie.com/">FunnyOrDie.com</a>

So remember back in my post talking about all the joys and delights of being unemployed where I said that I found myself NOT being on the computer very often?

Well, it continues.

It’s funny, since I feel like it’s what I should be doing, this "avoiding the computer until absolutely necessary" way of living…I haven’t put a ban on it or anything like that, it’s just while I’m still unemployed and not following a fixed schedule of any means, I find myself leaving my computer at home or, when I do take it with me, leaving it shut in my laptop bag all weekend. Which, frankly, is kind of cathartic. I’m certain there will be PLENTY of time in the very near future in which I am sitting, bleary-eyed, staring at my computer screen. In the meantime, I’m on hiatus.

The only loser in this equation, as it seems to be, is this site. Sure, I keep posting photos and the occasional song, but my days of long, regular posts seem to be behind me (at least for the next week or two.) I have the best of intentions – in fact, I started this post three separate times over the last week! – but they fall as often best intentions do: by the wayside. I get distracted by my non-digital life…by taking Lila to the park, by having lunch or dinner with friends, by going up to Tahoe every single chance I can get (to quote this little kid that had the biggest, best wipeout I’ve seen in a while – true yard-sale-variety – as he was laying upside down sans skis and poles on a super steep incline: "I’m having SO MUCH FUN!") and generally just trying to make the most of the time I have until the job fairy taps me with her magic wand. Which, for inquiring mind, is hopefully pretty soon…details are remaining hush-hush ’til I say so.

Anyway, while this site IS capturing my interest, figured I’d fill y’all in on what’s been going on. Here goes:

• New Years was spent up in Tahoe – was an awesome time. So fun, in fact, that I didn’t take nearly as many photos as I would have liked as I was too busy enjoying the fun to be capturing it all.
• I headed home for a whopping 24 hours and then trekked back up to Tahoe to enjoy the crazy storm of 2008. While I enjoyed some of the best skiing EVER, my poor Saabalamobile didn’t fare nearly as well. (Thankfully, no serious damage and we eventually got the car out.)
• Am not drinking throughout the month of January. Already 13 days into it, I’ve found that it’s  not nearly as hard to do as you’d expect…I’m really only tempted when everyone is having a tasty glass of wine with dinner and Après-ski. I had planned to do the Master Cleanse during the first half of the month but was (thankfully) coerced by my friend Kevin (who is also going sans alcohol ’til February) to join him and our friend Prager in this quest. So far, only noticeable side effects are insane sense of smell for alcohol (I can sniff out a glass of wine from across the room!) and being down 2 lbs. WHEE!

So that’s me in a nutshell. (Which always makes me think of that movie – maybe a Mike Meyers one? – where he’s like ‘HELP! I’M IN A NUTSHELL!’ – what movie IS that!?) Until next time…