More to come on AubreySays, but OH MY DEAR LORD. If you are in Seattle, or near it, or far from it, or are on another planet – really, I don’t care – go to Earth and Ocean. I’m literally moaning in ecstasy (or would be, if there weren’t other patrons around.) Don’t know the last time I indulged myself in a meal this amazing…if I died, it’s ok, I think I just went to heaven.

Since I came to California, I gave myself six months to get settled. Of course, during that time I found myself in something like twelve states and three countries, three residences and the menagerie still numbers four. Really, how that is even close to being ‘settled’ or something even remotely similar is beyond me.

Regardless, I found that I had been burning the candle at both ends for some time in Atlanta, and was ‘allowing’ myself to take it easy, at least for a while. Which I did (aforementioned events notwithstanding). Still, in the past few weeks I had started to get a bit antsy…I realized I had missed my writing. Besides this blog (and the pathetic still-nearly-postless sidekick, AubreySays.com) I haven’t been doing nearly ANY freelancing, and besides the money, I hadn’t realized how much I had missed it.

Well, my friends, I’m back. (I know you were worried.) I’ve hooked up (I use that term very differently here than I normally do!) with an old pal from Atlanta who has done gangbusters with her business, SocialDiva, to provide the eyes and ears (and scathing opinions) for San Francisco. Yes, that’s right, I’m exercising my unleashed power of delight and complaint, suggestion and deterrant, "must go" vs. "stay away" suggestions that y’all know you’ve missed.

Intrigued? Dying to hear my opinion? Head on over to the Social Diva Blog to see what I’ve got to say. (Not in San Francisco? There’s posts in NYC, Atlanta, LA & Miami as well.) In the meantime, I’ll be out and about checkin’ out new places to love/hate/be indifferent about.

Yeah right. As if I was ever indifferent about ANYTHING in my life.

My outfit today is, in a word, hideous.

I usually try to look presentable…no, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I took the extra five minutes to completely dry my hair nor put on makeup, but in lieu of being totally adorable, I at least spend a few minutes deciding what to wear. And usually, if I do say so myself, it turns out ok. Not that I have impeccable taste in clothing or anything (being that ‘impeccable’ requires ‘bottomless cash flow’ to purchase Marni shoes and Prada suits…"Old Navy" and "Target" fit the bill quite nicely for me instead) but I at least know that most capri pants are out, WAY out and that the whole maternity-cum-long shirt look is in. (Thanks, fashion maven in the sky, you’re making me look knocked up with my "too-much-beer-this-weekend" belly. Nice perk, jackass.)

Regardless, I left the house with a sprightly step, thinking how cute, how very SPRINGY I looked. The sun was shining, after all, so I should dress accordingly. It’s only as the day went on that I realized I look like a total toolbag. I’m wearing…

…Jeans – old. Darkish. Cropped-ish. Was I sleepwalking this morning?
…T-Shirt – brown. Pattern on sleeve. Would be ok if I had stopped there, but alas…
…Sweater – hooded. Blue & White striped. J.Crew should have kept the nautical look away from me that year (which reminds me, this sweater isn’t just ugly, it’s OLD and ugly. And it SO doesn’t go with the aforementioned brown shirt.)

And to top it all off, I needed something comfy for my feet, so alas made the worst possibly choice and opted for

…PINK SPARLKLY BALLET SLIPPERS. Really, if I wasn’t looking at it right now in horror I would pray that I was just speaking in hyperbole again and/or it was Halloween.

Truly, I look like a four year-old who just convinced her parents to let her dress herself for school for the first time. I just *KNOW* I would have gotten a black dot on my behavior chart for this getout.

Is it time to go home and change?

For the last five years, I’ve been spending my Memorial Days doing the same thing: enjoying the sun and surf at Wrightsville Beach, NC. (For those of you who don’t know where it is, it’s the beach town of Wilmington where, interestingly enough, they filmed Dawson’s Creek. So, in essence, I spend my Memorial Days at Dawson’s Creek.)

Anyhoo, I digress.

I’ve been going to this same place for so many years because the group I go with is fantastic; if you want to go out and get trashed, go for it! If you want to stay in and play Scrabble, that’s cool too. While the houses we rent often change (and last year’s was straight-up 70’s trashiness) the people pretty  much stay the same, and I look forward to these four days every year.

There’s other things that have drawn me to this city in the past; most noticeably, I used to date a gent who lives there. Though over the past four years our relationship has changed many, many times (the fact that we’re even speaking these days is a testiment to my forgiveness and his witty charm), I love that after all the tumultuous times full o’ turmoil galore, I can look forward to a good weekend full of laughter and late night alcohol.

I also get to see Vegas, aka Bagelhead aka (most recently) Miguel, the Mexican Bulldog.

Vegas is the darling pooch of my ex’s roommate, who – before I got Lila Belle – served as my favorite of all dogs. He drools. He farts (with gusto) and his snores could wake the dead. He’s a bit rotund, a bit silly-looking with his perpetual underbite but he’s a sweet lad, and after I broke up with his ‘uncle’, I really missed getting to see his funny face.

Never thought I’d say that I look forward to a few sleepless nights, but coming from Vegas, I’d say it’s worth it.

As of late, I’ve been really interested in why women are so competitive with each other. We should be banding together! Showing solidarity! Bucking the testosterone! (Or something like that, exclamation points included) instead of fighting against each other. Of course, in every society, every situation – and not just only amongst women – there’s an inherent struggle for power. I get that. Regardless (and this really isn’t where this post is going, I promise you; I’ll save all that schmack for later), I was looking to buy a book on Amazon that talked about women and rivalry. And, while I applaud Amazon for their company and their amazing capacity to find me a book that yes, I *DO* want to buy, I’d have to say that they should stay out of the search relevancy basis and keep it where it lives, ahem, at my lovely company. Because the screen shot below is the result I found.

Then again, if women really ARE so competitive, I suppose getting a pair of "Push Up Nipple Pals Breast Enhancers" wouldn’t be that bad of an idea at all!

Why is it that when I don’t have a thing to do (read: tonight) I found plenty of time this morning to shower, dry AND straighten my hair, and put on makeup to boot but when I actually HAVE something to do (read: yesterday) I look like a drowned rat?

It’s no wonder I’ve been spending my evenings with Lila Belle, a bone and Tivo.

I’m building an ark.

Seriously. Am going to Home Depot or Lowe’s or whatever the hell the hardware stores out here are called, phoning my dad for some carpentry tips and building a fucking ark.

Hey God! You hear me? If you’re trying to let us in on your upcoming armageddon, can I have another sign besides the rain? Give me a few locusts perhaps. Some blood red skies. Hell, at this point I’ll even take a horseman or two (just not four…I think that means the end is REALLY near. Two shall suffice.) To me, Forty Days and Forty Nights was just a movie with that hunky Josh Hartnett. But now? Seriously, if this is a sign, let me know so I can gather up the menagerie (a very ark-worthy crew, minus the whole spayed/neutered factor) and get the hell out of this state.

When I moved here I was worried about that whole earthquake, falling-into-the-sea rumor but the torrential, endless rains that have plagued us for over 4 months? Yeah. Nobody warned me about those. Thanks, assholes.

You think I’m making it up? Let’s take March. We set the record for the rainiest number of days. I’m talking it RAINS. EVERY. [Insert Expletive of choice, or if you’re like me, multiple explitives of choice, here.] DAY.  Besides walking to and from the shuttle in the rain, to and from my car in the rain, and Lila’s new predilection of ‘pretending’ to have to go to the bathroom every 20 minutes (requiring subsequent outdoor walks), I’ve been damp. And dreary. And it doesn’t look like things are going to change any time soon. Besides this article  saying we had a few more weeks of the wet stuff, I heard yesterday on the news that they’re predicting this to continue through the end of the month.

Wanna hear my prediction? By then, I’ll either have sailed away on my ark, or else the city will be ruled by a "24"-esque martial law due to rain-prompted riots. Seriously, you think *I’M* grumpy? Oh honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

People move to San Francisco for the sights. For the weather. For the outdoor activities, the beautiful landscape, and the relaxed attitudes. (Or for the weed, ya potheads.) We all want to ENJOY these activities, be able to ride our bikes – or hell, walk! – without getting rained on. I know it’s supposed to rain in the spring, but this ain’t no Atlanta drizzle. This is constant, soul-infusing wetness that perpetuates every nook of my existance. This, my friends, is my own personal hell.

And it’s not just me that is grouchy, it’s everyone! People are driving like they’re Nascar fans with a vengeance, cutting each other off to get the checkered flag. I’ve personally flipped the bird about four times a day on average. Even my friendly Peet’s barista has a perma-frown, and I don’t even have my normal chipper demeanor to talk about the wrinkles she’s going to get from that expression. Frown away, dour one. I’m right there with ya. We can form a club.

My college pals can attest that I didn’t go to class in the rain. (Thankfully, it was often quite pleasant in North Carolina or I doubt I would have graduated.) Nope, especially not in November when it was cold and rainy and gross and, hmm, very  much like our weather here! I even grew up in Cleveland, making me appreciate any and all sunny days…hell, this girl layed out in upper-50’s weather to get some pre-prom sun. Now that’s dedication, chums. Suffice it to say that though I’ve experienced my due share of lovely weather, I’m not immune to its charms. I appreciate it!! If it were a gift horse, I SO wouldn’t be looking it in the mouth, I’d be braiding its hair all My Little Pony-esque, believe you me.

And so the ark. Seems to be the best plan. With 4 animals, I’ll be spending the next few nights teaching them to walk two-by-two. As for me, well, I’m taking applications. Can’t board an ark alone, after all.

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }

Biltmore Tree from a different angle, originally uploaded by imjustincognito.

Here’s the other one.

Check out a bit more of his stuff

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }

Tree at the Biltmore Estate, originally uploaded by imjustincognito.

I knew my pal Justin was talented. I mean, he can take look bashful in each and every picture even when we know he’s covered in MJ’s red lipstick and only feigning it. (Seriously, you try it…not too easy to do.)

I also knew he was a great photographer – I’d seen a few of his pictures but as work and life and stupid other things got in the way, I didn’t make it through every one of the photos, which is likely why I missed this one. Not only does it make me miss my (quasi-) native North Carolina, but the artistry…let’s just say I’m in awe.

When I left for San Francisco, I was only supposed to be here for a short time – 6 weeks at the most. As such, I brought some clothes (that turned out to be very aseasonal), my dog (who turned out to have an aversion to peeing on anything but grass) and a bit of my work stuff, computer included. What I DIDN’T bring, however, was my calendar.

As one of those people who has to maintain various calendars to attempt to figure out where I should be (not to mention when) I’m sure I could have gotten by with my stupid work electronic one as well as the big wall calendar I also had. But old habits die hard and I love me my "At a Glance Quick Notes Academic Calendar" , not only for the happy yellow stripes and notes section on each week. Type A’s, you’d love this.

Anyway, the absence of this calendar sent me nearly over the edge, so I asked my good pal Jessica to send it to me. Ever-the prompt one, she sent it to me straightaway, and only a few days later did I realize that she had added her own personal touches to the calendar. She had gone through and strategically placed hilarious mini post-it notes on just about every other week: these included my favorite, on January 1st: "Crystal Ball Prediction…Aubrey has a hangover!" (I think this lady is psychic…)

Fast forward a few months…each new week I find myself cracking up over the various notes and it makes me feel not nearly as far away as I am from Atlanta and, specifically, my dear friends. As I’m getting my stuff ready this past week to go to Jessica & Andrew’s wedding, I found that Jessica really does have psychic powers. I found the following post-it (which I promptly photographed to share with you!) and I’d have to say, she was pretty darn accurate on the status of her nuptials.

Want to see more? (All 200 of ’em?) Click on the photo above. You won’t be disappointed.