Tag Archives: boozehound

Fore and aft…

1 Nov

As most of you know, I like to spend time with The Rockstar. He makes me laugh, keeps me sane, and boy, can the boy cook!

One of the very first conversations we had was about his wet-dream to sail around the world. He’s been charting this course for years and has spent a lot of time watching boat porn and chatting with other like minded seamen¬†yachtsmen.

When he first told me he wanted to move out of his place in Berkeley and onto a boat in the marina, I took one look at said boat and small kitchen and told him “hewl nao”. I mean, y’aint gonna get this girlie in that galley. I’d rather walk the plank. Of course, I’d be wearing rubber soled stilettos but still.

But like most waking dreams, this one is about to go live. He found a much nicer 34′ sailboat, named Mis Demeanor or Mis Defiance or something equally fitting, and he’s battening down the hatch and fixin to move aboard.

The thought of adventures on the high seas, or at least the SF Bay, are starting to sink in. (Anyone counting the metaphors here?) There’s nothing more awesome than sailing under the Bay Bridge and nothing more beautiful than the North Bay and its fog-enshrouded rolling hills.

Looks like I’ll be rigging up some sheets and turning the wheel in his cockpit very soon indeed.

I’m very much looking forward (aka fore) to this. When life presents opportunities, you better take them. Regret is a bitter pill usually taken with massive amounts of alcohol. Well, I never minded the massive amounts of alcohol but you won’t see this girl swirling into an abyss of regret.

Narrowing it down…

9 Aug

So the biggity O tour bus started a couple weeks ago. I’ve been dragging The Rockstar with me who has been patient and courteous and objective. He’ll hate that I shared how nice he’s been, given he wants to be seen as all badass and whatnot. Whoopsies.

Anyhoohaw, we’ve checked out Jack London, Lake Merritt and a whole lotta crappy apartments. NO BUENO. The only one I was tempted to lease has a shit load of steep stairs which, given my tendency to teeter totter and fall down is NO BUENO. Plus, a bus runs down it, and so do vagrants with natty hair.

So this threw me into a tail spin. The Rockstar asked patiently “What do you want in an apartment?”

Me: Ground floor, covered parking, fireplace, patio, in unit washer/dryer, sound proof bathroom…

RS: *raising an eyebrow over the poddy comment*

Me: I think I have to give up my dream of the urban lifestyle.

RS: Lake Merritt is not really urban.

So I gots to thinking about why I wanted urban. I really want to walk out my front door and walk to a cafe – or a bar. Cuz I’m a coffeewhore and a vodkawhore – in that order usually.

There better be coffee there... Or vodka...

Hmmm – now thinking I should look at leasing an apartment in the downtown of a suburb. One that will allow me to avoid breaking a bone, lets me share custody with my dogglies, and walk to a nearby strip mall. For coffee. Or booze. Yeah, maybe that’s the plan.

You know the best part of all of this though – instead of someone telling me what I should do, I was offered the opportunity to figure it out. Of course, this plan must execute soon. I gave my landlord notice on 8/1.

Smoking a stogie…

26 Jul

OK, stogie conjures up images of big ole fat stinky cigars – which then conjures up images of Clinton and Monica doing the nasty with said stogie.

Neither of which are implied in this post.

You see, The Rockstar likes to smoke cigars and I found this great cigar lounge that had these overstuffed leather couches and a pool table. Now I’m not quite sure how I feel about smoking cigars – my only previous experience was in the Caribbean smoking a Romeo y Juliet cigar and it made me quite ill. NO BUENO. So the point of this adventure was to find out how I feel now.

It was like smoking a stick of gum...

The owner of the lounge was very informative and soon The Rockstar picked out several cigars, including one for me. It was a Java wafe, a thin rectangular cigar infused with chocolate and espresso. It was friggin A yummy. We soon hunkered down on the couch with cigars in one hand and a glass of Pinot Noir in the other, which IMHO, went very well with the cigar. And because well, we’re both a couple of boozehounds, we got another bottle of wine and played some pool. FTR, I won the first game. Yay me!

Now in the past the thought of sitting in a smoky cigar lounge would have had me shaking my head and moving on, but I’m liking the new me – the one who embraces adventure and is willing to try things previously considered taboo.

We had a fantastic time and get this: my clothes didn’t stink like a Cuban tobacco roller’s hands. Go friggin figure.