I recently celebrated my twenty-ninth birthday at Disneyland. Since 2014 year was a little rough for my professional goals I thought it would be appropriate to spend the day regressing. I read a few blogs off of Pintrest that offered advice on how to make the best of the day and save money, but I found a lot of the "advice" to be outdated, false or just not applicable. I applied my past knowledge of navigating amusement parks and the day went off without a hitch, almost.
Tip #1. Go to the right, and quickly make your way to the back of the park.
Upon entering at 9am, everyone was stoping to take photos with the plants and various characters. Then they would head to the left towards Adventure Land. We went to the right. We came across the teacups that happened to have a five minute line, so we took advantage of this opportunity. Next we made a dash for Space Mountain. On the way, we came across The Matterhorn, with another five minute wait. So again we took advantage. Next we finally made it to Space Mountain, with a twenty minute line. At this point we had been in the park for less than an hour and we had been on half of the rides that we wanted to go on.
Tip #2. Buy Something
We bought a water, and it came with a coupon for 20% off a total merchandise purchase before 1pm, score! So we headed towards the emporium for some souvenirs, silly hats and Christmas ornament shopping.
Tip #3 Rent a Locker
Across from them emporium was the "locker rental room". It was starting to warm up so we checked in our sweaters and merchandise for just $7. (Even though the Emporium offered to hold them for us free of charge.)
Tip #4 Return Things
My boyfriend quickly learned that those giant mouse gloves are very uncomfortable and quite a hinderance, so after one cute pic we returned them. He said that I am way better at being Jewish than he is.
Tip #5 Get a Birthday Button
Since it was my Birthday we stopped by Town Hall since we were in the area. They check my ID and gave me Birthday Button, it was kinda nice being wished a Happy Birthday by the Cast Members.
Tip #6 Ask a Caste Member Where to Eat
We wanted to eat at the Blue Bayou, the restaurant inside Pirates of the Caribbean but like most Disney Restaurants you have to make reservations at least four months in advanced. A caste member referred us to a little cafe in the French Quarter that serve the same gumbo and clam chowder that is served at the Blue Bayou. We had a nice little sit down lunch with generous portions for less than $25. Can't beat that.
Tip #7 Use Your Fast Pass wisely.
Near the center of the park we found a small kiosk that had the wait times for all the rides. Indian Jones had the longest wait time, so we opted to use our fast pass on the ride. After lunch, going on Pirates of the Caribbean and The Haunted Mansion, our fast pass was ready. So by 3pm we had been on all the rides that we hoped to and we were out of things to do.
Also, I would highly recommend going on a Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday in December. The park looked SO Christmasy! I loved it! The park wasn't very crowded and the Haunted mansion was completely redone in Nightmare Before Christmas Fashion. Make sure you stick around for the fireworks and park in shuttled parking lot. Its actually faster and requires less walking than parking in the garage.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Saturday, August 30, 2014
ABCs of Double Ds
High Profile vs. Low Profile
There are two shapes for implants. High profile are the more
round traditional 90s-style implants and low profile are the more modern tear-drop
shape implants. My doctor recommends high-profile for women with saggy boobs who need to
perk up the location of their nipples. High profile implants tend to sit further
apart, making “refund gap” more likely to occur. I went with low profile.
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| Boobie Buffet: top left implants demonstrate high vs. low profile. The right darker one is actually 50cc larger. |
Silicon vs. Saline
Saline is just a fancy term for salt water; it makes your
boobs feel giggly like water balloons. Silicon has a thicker consistency and
makes your boobs feel much more natural. I was just going for looks, so I went
cheap and opted for saline. Saline is usually about a grand cheaper.
Under vs. Over
If the implant goes over the pectoral muscles, there is a
much greater chance of seeing the outline of the implant. So my doctor only places implants under the muscle. Also, just my opinion, I image they withstand
gravity better in the long run and they don't impede the ability to
breast-feed.
Size
You can't ask the doctor "make me full C", because there is
quite a difference between a 28C and a 38C. My 5’2” petite friend has 350cc
implants that look larger than my 475cc implants on my 5'6" frame. For this reason, the doctor
has you try on a range of sizes to help you make your decision. I wanted 450cc
implants but the doctor said that I should get 475 because he wanted the implants to
be full to avoid ripples in the implants. Plus he assured me that patients always return to get larger implants. On my frame, 475cc equates to a 36D.
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| Trying to decide between 500 (left) and 450cc (right). Please ignore my pterodactyl claws |
Little Tidbits About Surgery:
-I had to go to four appointments and have blood work done prior
to my surgery date.
-The $3800 had to be paid in full prior to the surgery.
-The surgery is an outpatient procedure that only takes forty-five
minutes, so the surgical team seemed really relaxed. They were blasting music in
the operating room. They just had me jump up onto the high operating table, they were
cracking jokes with me as started the IV and anesthesia. This made slightly
nervous.
 |
| Apparently this is how crooked my natural boobs were |
-After surgery, my friend drove me home, gave me a smoothie with narcotics and put me to bed. I felt fine until I woke up two hours later
and tried to get out of bed. I felt like I had a ninety-pound weight on chest
pressing me into my bed. I had to cry out for my mom to come help me. I could
walk fine but my core was very tight, I couldn’t even lean forward to pick my
phone up off the coffee table.
-For two weeks my implants were so high they almost touched
my clavicles. Yet my nipple were in the same spot. My nipples were barely hanging
off the edge of breast, this was kinda horrifying.
 |
| This is how I felt/looked after the surgery |
-I had to wear a maternity bra and a sling shot around my torso for two weeks, in order to push my implants downwards into their pockets. This restricted me to wearing hoodies.
-It took about four months for the swelling to go down completely. During this time my boobs were hard, high and huge. Not the look I was going for:/
 |
| In vegas with my Porn Star boobs |
-The doctor told me to keep my breast moisturized. I didn’t
listen to him and I started to get red vainy-looking stretch marks radiating from my nipples. Thank God for coco butter. It cleared them right
up.
-I couldn’t do cardio for three weeks and I couldn’t lift weights
for three months.
 |
| 10 pounds down and looking like a normal person, thank God! And thank you to Dr Talebzadeh at East Lake Cosmetic Surgery |
Now, seven months out, I have exactly the breast that
wanted. My little brother and my girl friend’s husband didn’t even know that I
had a boob job. I say “thank you, that was the look that I was going for. I’m
now able to do cross fit again, so I’m slimming down and soon enough I’ll have my old slimmer figure and I’ll get to keep the nice boobs.
Lesson Learned
Recently it seems like situations that presented themselves as
“opportunities” actually ended up being “learning opportunities.” They were painful lessons to learn but I figure that when I have real opportunities come my
way, I better be prepared and have these lessons under my belt. I'm sharing these little life/business lessons, so hopefully some wisdom can be gained, minus the pain.
First Lesson: Never go into business with anyone. Keep a low profile and low overhead.
When I told my art mentor about how badly my former business burned me, he told me this gem. It seems like common sense, and for some people it is. However, I am a very trusting individual and I count on others, especially the people closest to me, to keep their word and not act based on emotions. Lesson learned.
When I told my art mentor about how badly my former business burned me, he told me this gem. It seems like common sense, and for some people it is. However, I am a very trusting individual and I count on others, especially the people closest to me, to keep their word and not act based on emotions. Lesson learned.
Second Lesson: Require full payment and details upfront.
I
was recently lamenting to my friend, a mature woman who owns and operates a
successful photography business, about how to deal with women in business. (Older women screwing me over has been a theme in my life recently.) Her
response was pretty simple and I almost felt her giggling at me through the key
board. She simply said “I require full payment and all the details upfront, and
I let them know that I do not need their business. Again, it seems so simple
yet for some reason I needed to see it typed out in plain text.
I guess what a lot of these lessons boil down to is what all
those after-school-specials tried to teach us as children “believe in yourself.” I didn’t feel confident enough to take on
the business aspect of my endeavors by myself, so I brought on a male (who
ended up being a liability more than an asset.) Also, I didn’t believe that my
work was good enough to demand compensation upfront, even though countless
clients told me otherwise.
I really hope that there isn’t a
third lesson that must be learnt before the opportunities arise. All
that I can do is keep busy doing what I love, developing my talents, and trust
that everything is already in the works.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
I Just Love Football Soooo Much!
This is an old email that I began writing at 3am on a sunday night in a drunken stupor. I was so emotional and tried to make sense of the events by writing. It did help calm my nerves, but the next day the text was illegible and almost unrecognizable. this is a sober revisit of the night that I met my celebrity brush and made drunken fool of myself.
This morning awoke to the sound of the rain bidder-pattering on the skylights and frogs chirping outside. I felt so peaceful and happy to start a productive day. I got off of my friend's couch and headed for the upstairs bathroom. After merging into the wall, I made it to the stair case. I reached for both railings and proceeded to limp my way up the stairs. As blood began circulating throughout my dehydrated body to finally make its way to my brain, the memories of last night came back one by one...
My smokin' hot Bulgarian friend Eva and I started our Sunday at 3pm by sharing half of a Papa John's five cheese pizza. We then began to do our hair and make up, a very elaborate two hour process. At 5pm we were ready to take on what little was left of the day. There was a party costume called "Guest House" in down town San Diego that wouldn't end until 7pm. We love dressing up in ridiculous outfits, and so thought it would be fun to stop by that party then have a quiet dinner in the gay part of town where Eva lives.
We zipped up our matching thigh high boots and headed to the part of Hillcrest where taxis are readily available. As we walked by all the gay bars the men kept staring at us. We couldn't determine whether it was because we looked so hot or if they were trying to figure out if we were trannys.
As we stepped out of the taxi we saw that everyone in line was wearing jeans and t-shirts and felt a little uneasy. A gorgeous guy walked by and said "hey you girls want to avoid the cover an come in with us." We smiled and proceeded in with his group. He was so handsome, just like Thor, 6'4", long blond hair, piercing blue eyes and a muscular build. We stepped inside and were taken back by all the lasers, LEDs and gorgeous people everywhere: on the walls, on the tables, on the couches, everywhere. We saw a group of girls run past us dressed as unicorns with rhinestone pasties and tinsel tails. At the moment we decided that we were no longer over-dressed. My friend Aaron had a table and invited us to hang out with him. We were dancing on the platform above his table. We had a great view to scope out all the hot guys.
I said "wow, that black guy is very good looking."
Eva agreed, "yes, I not into black guys but they can be extremely attractive."
me- "I know, like Shun T or Vincent Jackson."
Eva-"no, I dont know this Vincent Jackson."
me-"The football player that I'm always talking about."
Eva-"Yes but I don't know what he looks like."
me-"Okay, remind me to show you a picture of him later."
We continues dancing, since I DJ I knew all the songs word for word and I could help but sing along. They were a little newer for the crowd so I kinda looked like a idiot singing along so passionately by myself. Thor stopped by and I looked at him and asked "have you ever been to Belize?" He looked puzzled, but replied "yes." I said, I think I met you four years ago a Fido's Bar in Belize." Thor's eye lit up, he gave me a hug and then walked away. We continued dancing and drinking our IPAs. The club was closing and the next party didn't start for another two hours so we started making dinner plans with Aaron and his friends. As we were headed out the door Thor invited us to dinner with his friends so we opted to go with Thor because I was trilled about having a brief history with him and when I met him in Belize I tried to envision what an awesome person he is back in San Diego.
On the walk to dinner Thor kept fishing for compliment and giving me dirty looks when I responded with undesirable answers. When we got to the restaurant some drunk guy got in Thor's face and started yelling at him saying "YOU CANT TAKE ME! YOU WILL NEVER WIN, NEVER, NEEEEVER, NEVER!!!" Thor pushed the guy across the restaurant. At that point my buzz began to instantly fade. I ordered two Hefenwizens for Eva and I before we sat down to eat with the others. Thor kept saying off flavor things and making obscene gestures at Eva. Finally she responded "Hey, hey. Can I ask you a serious question?" The whole table stopped to listen. "Does that help you get ass?" Everyone laughed hysterically. Somehow we ended up at Thor's place doing the girls' hair and makeup so they could look sluttier for next party. On the cab ride back to the Gaslamp District Thor haggled and bickered with the cab driver the entire way back to the Gaslamp district.
As soon as we got to F6 we jumped out of the cab and went our separate ways. We went to Side Bar because Sweedish House Mafia was going to preform later in the night. It was 10pm and the club was at half capacity, when we finished ordering our first round the club was packed. We ran into Aron. He said that he had just broken his 35 day sobriety, we told him "Awesome!! Let celebrate." Aron started ordering rounds of shots. Eva stole two mega glow sticks from a vip table and we began dancing like coked-up amateur gogos. Aron said that he going to F6 and invited us to tag along.
Aron ordered a few more rounds of shots at F6. We were having a good time and the "celebrating" was starting to really hit me. Aron said he was going back to Sidebar so I made my way to the bar to get Eva and my purse. As I stumbled for the door my forhead made contact with some very impressive pectoral muscle. I looked up saw the face of an angle smiling at me, it was him, Mr 83 himself, Vincent Jackson. It took me a second to process it, I said "wait, shouldn't you be at a game today?? Oh, that was like eight hours ago." He just smiled at me and took a spot at the bar next to Eva. Aaron asked me if I was ready to go. I said, with my filter disappearing by the second "Look, I want to chill here. This guy is my all time favorite, I swear I'm not going to be a groupie and f*ck him, I know that hes married." Aron just chuckled at me like 'ya right' and headed for the door. I headed back to Eva and VJ at the bar, I said Eva "This is Vincent Jackson, remember? We were talking about who the hottest black guys are earlier??" Eva blankly responded in her Slavic accent "I have no idea who this man is." Time seemed to laspe and I just remember his antorage accussed me of being a groupy because I was stone drunk and dressed like a whore. I left the bar balling "I just love football sooo much. I'm not a whore, I just love football." And this continued for several hours well into the night.
Th next morning I asked Eva if I cocked blocked Vincent Jackson. Since she is Slavik she has a much higher tolerance for Vodka than I do and could recall the later part of the evening with much more detail than I could. According to Eva he kept following me around, and I cried in the cab the entire way home about how much I love football.
This morning awoke to the sound of the rain bidder-pattering on the skylights and frogs chirping outside. I felt so peaceful and happy to start a productive day. I got off of my friend's couch and headed for the upstairs bathroom. After merging into the wall, I made it to the stair case. I reached for both railings and proceeded to limp my way up the stairs. As blood began circulating throughout my dehydrated body to finally make its way to my brain, the memories of last night came back one by one...
My smokin' hot Bulgarian friend Eva and I started our Sunday at 3pm by sharing half of a Papa John's five cheese pizza. We then began to do our hair and make up, a very elaborate two hour process. At 5pm we were ready to take on what little was left of the day. There was a party costume called "Guest House" in down town San Diego that wouldn't end until 7pm. We love dressing up in ridiculous outfits, and so thought it would be fun to stop by that party then have a quiet dinner in the gay part of town where Eva lives.
We zipped up our matching thigh high boots and headed to the part of Hillcrest where taxis are readily available. As we walked by all the gay bars the men kept staring at us. We couldn't determine whether it was because we looked so hot or if they were trying to figure out if we were trannys.
As we stepped out of the taxi we saw that everyone in line was wearing jeans and t-shirts and felt a little uneasy. A gorgeous guy walked by and said "hey you girls want to avoid the cover an come in with us." We smiled and proceeded in with his group. He was so handsome, just like Thor, 6'4", long blond hair, piercing blue eyes and a muscular build. We stepped inside and were taken back by all the lasers, LEDs and gorgeous people everywhere: on the walls, on the tables, on the couches, everywhere. We saw a group of girls run past us dressed as unicorns with rhinestone pasties and tinsel tails. At the moment we decided that we were no longer over-dressed. My friend Aaron had a table and invited us to hang out with him. We were dancing on the platform above his table. We had a great view to scope out all the hot guys.
I said "wow, that black guy is very good looking."
Eva agreed, "yes, I not into black guys but they can be extremely attractive."
me- "I know, like Shun T or Vincent Jackson."
Eva-"no, I dont know this Vincent Jackson."
me-"The football player that I'm always talking about."
Eva-"Yes but I don't know what he looks like."
me-"Okay, remind me to show you a picture of him later."
We continues dancing, since I DJ I knew all the songs word for word and I could help but sing along. They were a little newer for the crowd so I kinda looked like a idiot singing along so passionately by myself. Thor stopped by and I looked at him and asked "have you ever been to Belize?" He looked puzzled, but replied "yes." I said, I think I met you four years ago a Fido's Bar in Belize." Thor's eye lit up, he gave me a hug and then walked away. We continued dancing and drinking our IPAs. The club was closing and the next party didn't start for another two hours so we started making dinner plans with Aaron and his friends. As we were headed out the door Thor invited us to dinner with his friends so we opted to go with Thor because I was trilled about having a brief history with him and when I met him in Belize I tried to envision what an awesome person he is back in San Diego.
On the walk to dinner Thor kept fishing for compliment and giving me dirty looks when I responded with undesirable answers. When we got to the restaurant some drunk guy got in Thor's face and started yelling at him saying "YOU CANT TAKE ME! YOU WILL NEVER WIN, NEVER, NEEEEVER, NEVER!!!" Thor pushed the guy across the restaurant. At that point my buzz began to instantly fade. I ordered two Hefenwizens for Eva and I before we sat down to eat with the others. Thor kept saying off flavor things and making obscene gestures at Eva. Finally she responded "Hey, hey. Can I ask you a serious question?" The whole table stopped to listen. "Does that help you get ass?" Everyone laughed hysterically. Somehow we ended up at Thor's place doing the girls' hair and makeup so they could look sluttier for next party. On the cab ride back to the Gaslamp District Thor haggled and bickered with the cab driver the entire way back to the Gaslamp district.
As soon as we got to F6 we jumped out of the cab and went our separate ways. We went to Side Bar because Sweedish House Mafia was going to preform later in the night. It was 10pm and the club was at half capacity, when we finished ordering our first round the club was packed. We ran into Aron. He said that he had just broken his 35 day sobriety, we told him "Awesome!! Let celebrate." Aron started ordering rounds of shots. Eva stole two mega glow sticks from a vip table and we began dancing like coked-up amateur gogos. Aron said that he going to F6 and invited us to tag along.
Aron ordered a few more rounds of shots at F6. We were having a good time and the "celebrating" was starting to really hit me. Aron said he was going back to Sidebar so I made my way to the bar to get Eva and my purse. As I stumbled for the door my forhead made contact with some very impressive pectoral muscle. I looked up saw the face of an angle smiling at me, it was him, Mr 83 himself, Vincent Jackson. It took me a second to process it, I said "wait, shouldn't you be at a game today?? Oh, that was like eight hours ago." He just smiled at me and took a spot at the bar next to Eva. Aaron asked me if I was ready to go. I said, with my filter disappearing by the second "Look, I want to chill here. This guy is my all time favorite, I swear I'm not going to be a groupie and f*ck him, I know that hes married." Aron just chuckled at me like 'ya right' and headed for the door. I headed back to Eva and VJ at the bar, I said Eva "This is Vincent Jackson, remember? We were talking about who the hottest black guys are earlier??" Eva blankly responded in her Slavic accent "I have no idea who this man is." Time seemed to laspe and I just remember his antorage accussed me of being a groupy because I was stone drunk and dressed like a whore. I left the bar balling "I just love football sooo much. I'm not a whore, I just love football." And this continued for several hours well into the night.
Th next morning I asked Eva if I cocked blocked Vincent Jackson. Since she is Slavik she has a much higher tolerance for Vodka than I do and could recall the later part of the evening with much more detail than I could. According to Eva he kept following me around, and I cried in the cab the entire way home about how much I love football.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Love Parallelogram
WARNING: this blog contains saltiness, rants and emotional vomit that needed to be expelled.
Warren and I were recently scrolling through my old pictures on Facebook when he noticed a photo with a girl's head partially cropped out of the frame. He asked me why she wasn't in the frame. I explained to him that she is just one of those people who I've never gotten along with and probably never will. Warren has known me for seven years so he knows that coming from me that statement carries some weight and there has to be an awesome back story. So again, I am repeatedly asked how I can not get along with such a sweet, artistic, loving, hippy girl? We should be made for one another right? Sadly, when two people are too similar, one HAS to be better than the other, attest the lesser of the two people. Thus begins all epic rivalries: Tom & Jerry, Darth Vader & Han Solo, Rosie O'Donnal & Donald Trump, Porsha & Kenya, Celeste & Melody.
I stumbled into my own personal rivalry in the most made-for-reality-tv way possible…
While I was selling timeshares in Belize, a handsome coworker offered to go kayaking with me after work. I LOVE water sports so I eagerly accepted his invitation. He wanted to go as soon as our workday ended so we could make it back before the sun started to set. I wouldn't have time to go home a get a swimsuit so I had to wear a pair of his boxer briefs. I felt so awkward just being in his apartment wearing his underwear, when I had just met him a couple days prior. Somehow I needed to make it out of the condo and fifty yards to the shore without embarrassing myself too badly. Oddly, the boxer briefs fit me well so I decided to rock it and own the look. I gathered my courage and stepped into the 4pm sunlight. I made it about 10 yards when a girl in a long white summer dress and matching white Kentucky Derby hat intercepted us. She was tall and strikingly beautiful, from a distance. I wondered where she was headed on a Tuesday afternoon, this far from town, all dressed up? My coworker told me to continue on to the water and he'll catch up to me. I asked awkwardly, in his boxer briefs, "am I interrupting something?" He assured me I wasn't. I continued on and looked behind me to see the two attractive people exchange a long embrace, then the beautiful young lady turned around and started walking back in the direction of town. So here in these boxer briefs, with a 60 pound canoe on my back, in Central-America I had stumbled into the most drawn-out catty rivalry one would love to see televised. At times I even had to step back and appreciate the cliche story line as it played out. I won't go into details but heres the Reader's Digest version:
Melody and Kyle were in a mutually beneficial casual relationship. Kyle needed a convenience, "something to do." Melody needed to make her on-again/off-again boyfriend Glenn jealous. Although Melody was just romancing Kyle to win back Glenn's affection, she began pressuring Kyle to upgrade her status from "casual" to "committed," upon sensing competition. I am not a competitive person, hence I am bad at sports, hence I opted to not spend anymore "alone time" with Kyle. After several weeks Melody's strategy had payed off and Glenn agreed to take her back. Kyle and I resumed kayaking after workdays. Once our time in Belize was up and we both moved back to the US, we began an arduous long-distance relationship. Kyle and I finally called it quits on our little relationship when I found an email on his computer where Melody was offering a "week-long sexscapade in Mexico" while Glenn was away working in Canada.
So, to this day, Melody will swear on her son's life that I "stole" her "boyfriend." I did no such thing. In fact, this was on of the many rumors I had to overcome in addition to enduring her cocktail-throwing rages. Looking back on this life experience as an older, slightly wiser version of myself, I wish that I would have bought my own damn canoe.
Warren and I were recently scrolling through my old pictures on Facebook when he noticed a photo with a girl's head partially cropped out of the frame. He asked me why she wasn't in the frame. I explained to him that she is just one of those people who I've never gotten along with and probably never will. Warren has known me for seven years so he knows that coming from me that statement carries some weight and there has to be an awesome back story. So again, I am repeatedly asked how I can not get along with such a sweet, artistic, loving, hippy girl? We should be made for one another right? Sadly, when two people are too similar, one HAS to be better than the other, attest the lesser of the two people. Thus begins all epic rivalries: Tom & Jerry, Darth Vader & Han Solo, Rosie O'Donnal & Donald Trump, Porsha & Kenya, Celeste & Melody.
I stumbled into my own personal rivalry in the most made-for-reality-tv way possible…
While I was selling timeshares in Belize, a handsome coworker offered to go kayaking with me after work. I LOVE water sports so I eagerly accepted his invitation. He wanted to go as soon as our workday ended so we could make it back before the sun started to set. I wouldn't have time to go home a get a swimsuit so I had to wear a pair of his boxer briefs. I felt so awkward just being in his apartment wearing his underwear, when I had just met him a couple days prior. Somehow I needed to make it out of the condo and fifty yards to the shore without embarrassing myself too badly. Oddly, the boxer briefs fit me well so I decided to rock it and own the look. I gathered my courage and stepped into the 4pm sunlight. I made it about 10 yards when a girl in a long white summer dress and matching white Kentucky Derby hat intercepted us. She was tall and strikingly beautiful, from a distance. I wondered where she was headed on a Tuesday afternoon, this far from town, all dressed up? My coworker told me to continue on to the water and he'll catch up to me. I asked awkwardly, in his boxer briefs, "am I interrupting something?" He assured me I wasn't. I continued on and looked behind me to see the two attractive people exchange a long embrace, then the beautiful young lady turned around and started walking back in the direction of town. So here in these boxer briefs, with a 60 pound canoe on my back, in Central-America I had stumbled into the most drawn-out catty rivalry one would love to see televised. At times I even had to step back and appreciate the cliche story line as it played out. I won't go into details but heres the Reader's Digest version:
Melody and Kyle were in a mutually beneficial casual relationship. Kyle needed a convenience, "something to do." Melody needed to make her on-again/off-again boyfriend Glenn jealous. Although Melody was just romancing Kyle to win back Glenn's affection, she began pressuring Kyle to upgrade her status from "casual" to "committed," upon sensing competition. I am not a competitive person, hence I am bad at sports, hence I opted to not spend anymore "alone time" with Kyle. After several weeks Melody's strategy had payed off and Glenn agreed to take her back. Kyle and I resumed kayaking after workdays. Once our time in Belize was up and we both moved back to the US, we began an arduous long-distance relationship. Kyle and I finally called it quits on our little relationship when I found an email on his computer where Melody was offering a "week-long sexscapade in Mexico" while Glenn was away working in Canada.
So, to this day, Melody will swear on her son's life that I "stole" her "boyfriend." I did no such thing. In fact, this was on of the many rumors I had to overcome in addition to enduring her cocktail-throwing rages. Looking back on this life experience as an older, slightly wiser version of myself, I wish that I would have bought my own damn canoe.
 |
| Melody, Kyle and Abbi at Sweet Basil |
Friday, June 27, 2014
Barracuda Bikini
To this day people still ask me how my business Barracuda Bikini is doing and why I haven't released any new designs in the last three years. They are always shocked when I tell them that I am no longer associated with the company. I tell people that I "sold it" because the truth is so much uglier and more difficult to explain. So here is the skinny on how it all went down:
I started making swimsuits eight years ago when I couldn't find any flattering suits on the market.
I registered the domain name barracudabikini.com five years ago.
I started a Facebook page and started making custom swimsuits that same year.
I met a business man who shared a similar interest in building a clothing brand. He said that I could continue working on the designs, while he would focus on marketing and manufacturing. However, I continued manage the bulk of the promotional work.
A year later he registered Barracuda Bikini as a sole proprietorship, as oppose to a dual partnership, without my consent.
He also booked a photo shoot in Belize without my consent. I had to work very hard to coordinate this photo shoot. I also had to make the swimwear that the models would be wearing and would be given as compensation. I did not agree to this second photo shoot in Belize because we did not have funds, nor did we have an actual product to market since he had not made good on his promise to bring the suits into manufacturing.
As our friends, finances and personal live began to intertwine my business partner developed a crush on me, despite being thirteen years my senior. I told him that I had no interest in a romantic relationship and if we were unable to move forward as platonic friends, then we should part ways. He agreed to remain my friend and business partner.
Two months later I began dating a guy my own age. He told me that he did not want to be associated with me if I was in a relationship with someone else. We agreed to part ways. He hacked into all my email and social media accounts and blocked me as an administrator from all the Barracuda Bikini accounts that I created and maintained for years. He contacted all my business contacts and mutual friends and told them that he didn't understand why I was breaking up our friendship and abandoning the business.
To this day I still own barracudabikini.com. However, since he owns the rights to do business under this name and he racked up substantial debt under this business name, I had no choice but to walk away from my brand.
I continue to design and I have big things in the works that I would love to share with my supporters. Consequently, I am cautious about sharing about my upcoming projects because of this experience. All that I can promise is that Barracuda Bikini is the tip of the iceberg, its an example of what I was able to accomplish when all the factors were working against me.
#barracudabikini barracudabikini.net
I started making swimsuits eight years ago when I couldn't find any flattering suits on the market.
I registered the domain name barracudabikini.com five years ago.
I started a Facebook page and started making custom swimsuits that same year.
I met a business man who shared a similar interest in building a clothing brand. He said that I could continue working on the designs, while he would focus on marketing and manufacturing. However, I continued manage the bulk of the promotional work.
A year later he registered Barracuda Bikini as a sole proprietorship, as oppose to a dual partnership, without my consent.
He also booked a photo shoot in Belize without my consent. I had to work very hard to coordinate this photo shoot. I also had to make the swimwear that the models would be wearing and would be given as compensation. I did not agree to this second photo shoot in Belize because we did not have funds, nor did we have an actual product to market since he had not made good on his promise to bring the suits into manufacturing.
As our friends, finances and personal live began to intertwine my business partner developed a crush on me, despite being thirteen years my senior. I told him that I had no interest in a romantic relationship and if we were unable to move forward as platonic friends, then we should part ways. He agreed to remain my friend and business partner.
Two months later I began dating a guy my own age. He told me that he did not want to be associated with me if I was in a relationship with someone else. We agreed to part ways. He hacked into all my email and social media accounts and blocked me as an administrator from all the Barracuda Bikini accounts that I created and maintained for years. He contacted all my business contacts and mutual friends and told them that he didn't understand why I was breaking up our friendship and abandoning the business.
To this day I still own barracudabikini.com. However, since he owns the rights to do business under this name and he racked up substantial debt under this business name, I had no choice but to walk away from my brand.
I continue to design and I have big things in the works that I would love to share with my supporters. Consequently, I am cautious about sharing about my upcoming projects because of this experience. All that I can promise is that Barracuda Bikini is the tip of the iceberg, its an example of what I was able to accomplish when all the factors were working against me.
#barracudabikini barracudabikini.net
Sunday, February 23, 2014
How to Model
If you put me in a line up of pretty girls I'm not that one that stands out, yet somehow I look fantastic on film. I'm not naturally photogenic or even naturally stunning but I've managed to convince people on social media that I am. So here are some tricks for your next photo shoot:
Determine whether you look better straight on or from the side. I look very curvy looking head on, but I tend to look first trimester pregnant from the side. My string-bean girlfriends that were blessed with super flat stomachs and slim hips look like dudes straight on, yet super curvy from the side.
To do these things all at once feels very weird and requires a fair deal of concentration, which usually makes your facial expression seem constipated. However, the more uncomfortable/unnatural a pose feels the better it looks on camera.
Practice all these things in your mirror, then practice them with your best friend taking photos of you. Notice how much different they look in real life life as appose to on camera. Minor adjustment in your posture will make a world of difference.
Your first photo shoots will either be with new photographers trying to build portfolios or a pervert. Never let a photographer talk you into doing something you are uncomfortable with. I had a photographer repeatedly suggest that I take my top off, my responses were "No thanks." "I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that." "Okay, we have enough shots. Thanks for the shoot." Of course I never saw the pics from that shoot or heard from that guy ever again but thats just what you have to do sometimes.
If you found this blog helpful or if you have any other awesome hints that should be included please let me know.
Determine whether you look better straight on or from the side. I look very curvy looking head on, but I tend to look first trimester pregnant from the side. My string-bean girlfriends that were blessed with super flat stomachs and slim hips look like dudes straight on, yet super curvy from the side.
Cock your hips straight out to the left or right. On film exaggerated movements to the left or right look great, anything leaning back or towards the camera will look distorted.
Make exaggerated angles with your ams. The more angles the better.
Iriana Shayk is the queen of working the angles.
Everyone looks great from 35 degrees. Photographers will always ask you too turn 45 degrees, they really mean 35.
Fingers and toes look like spaghetti in photos (this is why cartoons only have 4 fingers). Learn little tricks to hide your fingers like: running them through your hair, holding them flat against your hip, holding onto your jewelry, grasping your swimsuit sides, putting them behind you, and always point your toes if you think they will be in the shot.
DON'T make funny faces. Don't try to make your eyes look bigger. You'll look like a deer in headlights. Don't try to accentuate your lips, this is duck face and it is never acceptable. Practice just looking normal. It seems funny, but when a photographer says "okay, now just look normal" suddenly you have no idea what thats supposed to look like.
Flex your stomach muscles, as oppose to sucking in. Sucking in makes a concave shape and just looks like "you're sucking it in." Do a sit up, hold it at 45 degrees. That cramping sensation is what flexing your stomach feels like. Now do that standing up, without somehow looking constipated.
Smile with your whole face. If you just smile with just your mouth it looks like you're grizzly bear bearing your teeth. To look super happy when you're just not in the mood, raise your eye brows and open your mouth slightly. It'll look like you're having the time of your life.
Find your model mentor. If your have great boobs research all of Kate Upton and Hidi Klums old photos (notice that they look very straight, straight on). If you have a great butt look at Jennifer Lopez's old pics.
 |
| Kate Upton straight on |
vs.
 |
| Damn Gurl. |
Find your inner Shasha Fierce. If you feel beautiful, you'll look beautiful.
 |
| This girl is owning this shot. You totally overlook how soft her stomach looks or the fact that she is straddling a dog. |
Exaggerate your make up. Makeup tends to get washed out with lighting. So don't be afraid if you look like a clown after applying extra blush, and eye shadow. Always use liquid eye liner. To make my eyes pop I pull my top eye lides up and run Laura Mercier water proof eye line all over the base of my top lashes. Then I run a thin line of liquid eye liner as close to my lashes as possible. Followed up quick sweep of eyeliner along my bottom lash line and two coats of mascara. This looks very dramatic, yet natural.
To do these things all at once feels very weird and requires a fair deal of concentration, which usually makes your facial expression seem constipated. However, the more uncomfortable/unnatural a pose feels the better it looks on camera.
Practice all these things in your mirror, then practice them with your best friend taking photos of you. Notice how much different they look in real life life as appose to on camera. Minor adjustment in your posture will make a world of difference.
Your first photo shoots will either be with new photographers trying to build portfolios or a pervert. Never let a photographer talk you into doing something you are uncomfortable with. I had a photographer repeatedly suggest that I take my top off, my responses were "No thanks." "I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that." "Okay, we have enough shots. Thanks for the shoot." Of course I never saw the pics from that shoot or heard from that guy ever again but thats just what you have to do sometimes.
If you found this blog helpful or if you have any other awesome hints that should be included please let me know.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Exibitionist
Monday, April 23, 2012
Anticlimatic
My experience in the pageantry world was very short-lived. I took five hours out of my Saturday to drive to LA for my audition. I was sized up and offered to participate. I thought "cool, this is going smoother than I thought." Plus, my measurements were better than I anticipated. I thought they would be 34-27-37 but instead I was 34-26-38. I was only asked to lose one inch in my waist and two in my hips, this is a very doable. However, things took a surprising turn when I called my pageant coordinator for follow up. She offered me the oppertunity to partcipate in the Queen of the Jewel Pageant in Belize. The kicker was that I would be representing San Pedro. I had to decline for three reasons:
#1. As much as I love San Pedro, I am not a San Pedrana.
#2. It would be inconvient, since I'd have to be in Belize for 2 full weeks.
#3. There are other girls that deserve this opportunity and want it much more than I do.
In regards to the Pan American pageant, it was suddenly between Destinee Arnold and myself. Arnold had earlier declined the offer to participate in the PanAmerican Pageant because the pageant coordinator was unable to provide her with a new gown and costume. Upon hearing that I would be the deligate, Ms arnold had a renewed interest in participating in the PanAmerican Pageant. It would just come down to who would be able to come up with the $1500 sponsor first. I said that the Destinee Arnold should do it. After Ms. Arnold was given full reign to represent Belize at the PanAmerican Pageant, she opted to participate in the Queen of the Jewel Pageant instead. The pageant coordinator pleaded with me to participate in the PanAmerican pageant because this debacle would leave Belize without a representative and create ill will among the pageant organizers. After sacrificing my saturday and several desserts I was over the whole ordeal. At the very least, what I've obtained from this minor experience is: I'm kicking butt on my running and I got my little blog material, just as predicted.
#1. As much as I love San Pedro, I am not a San Pedrana.
#2. It would be inconvient, since I'd have to be in Belize for 2 full weeks.
#3. There are other girls that deserve this opportunity and want it much more than I do.
In regards to the Pan American pageant, it was suddenly between Destinee Arnold and myself. Arnold had earlier declined the offer to participate in the PanAmerican Pageant because the pageant coordinator was unable to provide her with a new gown and costume. Upon hearing that I would be the deligate, Ms arnold had a renewed interest in participating in the PanAmerican Pageant. It would just come down to who would be able to come up with the $1500 sponsor first. I said that the Destinee Arnold should do it. After Ms. Arnold was given full reign to represent Belize at the PanAmerican Pageant, she opted to participate in the Queen of the Jewel Pageant instead. The pageant coordinator pleaded with me to participate in the PanAmerican pageant because this debacle would leave Belize without a representative and create ill will among the pageant organizers. After sacrificing my saturday and several desserts I was over the whole ordeal. At the very least, what I've obtained from this minor experience is: I'm kicking butt on my running and I got my little blog material, just as predicted.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Fame Game
I think I've figured out whats wrong with Orange County. In Los Angeles people are trying to be famous, in Orange County people think they are famous. Last night I went to my friends birthday day party at a club in Orange County. For starters, I do not enjoy going to night clubs. I will only go to a club if its someone's birthday or a friend is visiting from out of town. This occasion fit one of my criteria so I enlisted a male friend to dd and we headed up to Orange County. We arrived at the club half an hour late, but no one in the party had arrived yet, with the exception of my cousin Tessa. My girlfriend Sheila and I went to the bathroom to touch up our make up and kill a little time. When Sheila and I returned to the vip table it was over crowded with girls. I hugged the birthday girl and took the last remaining open spot at the table, the head of the table closest to the dance floor. The view was obstructed with balloons so I gently relocated the balloons so I could stand next to Sheila and watch the dj. A girl with platinum blond hair, black roots, scuffed up Louboutins and a bargain boob job leaned into me and said "excuuuse me" I leaned back so she could make her way around me and she promptly planted herself in my prime location, between Sheila and I. Sheila and I exchanged confused looks, then headed for a less crowded spot where we could continue our conversation. Rather than taking a spot in the impact zone like a gentlemen, my dd parked himself next to the booze. So sheila and I stood behind him. It seemed like every 30 seconds a bus boy or cocktail waitress would come rushing through, either rubbing against us or bumping into us. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't have been that much of an inconvenience but in 7 inch heels every bump feels like a death threat. Miraculously, my cousin Tessa had managed to find Sheila and I great seats at the table. The girl that was sitting next to me seemed kinda friendly but a little insane. I just assumed that she was on drugs. She kept trying to push a cupcake onto the guys at the next table for about half an hour. I think she explained the dilemma of the cupcake about 15 times. I noticed that the pushy social climber from earlier had been banished to the next table. My dd decided it was time to go so I hugged my cousin and the birthday girl good bye. Since I was in the motion of goodbye hugs I decided to hug my new druggy friend, afterall, we had shared such an intimate conversation about cupcakes over the past half hour. When I went in for a hug she leaned back and gave me the most disgusted look, she even through in a finger wave. So I waved bye to her, they she invited me in for a hug, where I expressed a confused look coupled with an eye brow lift and sheepish wave good bye. Turns out she was a "Myspace" celebrity back in the day. Funny, I had no idea that internet celebrities could become washed up.
Trannyfection
I recently resumed my cardio regiment for three reasons:
1. Pool season has officially began.
2. My boyfriend has been losing three pounds a week and I'll get self conscious if he gets too much hotter than me.
3. I'm auditioning for the Miss Pan American Pageant on Saturday.
I always thought there was something off and odd about pageantry, then one of my favorite authors, Sherry Argov, illustrated it so simply. Argov points out the similarities between a beauty pageant and an agriculture show. "The farmer walks his cow across stage, the cow does a twirl or two to impress the judges. The winning cow is adorned with roses, a sash and sometimes a trophy." So far I've lost three pounds and I have until Saturday to lose another three, before I'm sized up by Doña Whats Her Name. If Doña deems me fit to compete then I will only have to lose another nine more pounds to be at my target beauty queen weight. With a little luck and campaigning, I will have a sash, roses, and trophy of my own so everyone can know how special I am. I figure that since I'm getting older I might as well take advantage of the experience, as it could become quite comical and blogworthy. And at the very least, it will keep me on track with my cardio regiment.
1. Pool season has officially began.
2. My boyfriend has been losing three pounds a week and I'll get self conscious if he gets too much hotter than me.
3. I'm auditioning for the Miss Pan American Pageant on Saturday.
I always thought there was something off and odd about pageantry, then one of my favorite authors, Sherry Argov, illustrated it so simply. Argov points out the similarities between a beauty pageant and an agriculture show. "The farmer walks his cow across stage, the cow does a twirl or two to impress the judges. The winning cow is adorned with roses, a sash and sometimes a trophy." So far I've lost three pounds and I have until Saturday to lose another three, before I'm sized up by Doña Whats Her Name. If Doña deems me fit to compete then I will only have to lose another nine more pounds to be at my target beauty queen weight. With a little luck and campaigning, I will have a sash, roses, and trophy of my own so everyone can know how special I am. I figure that since I'm getting older I might as well take advantage of the experience, as it could become quite comical and blogworthy. And at the very least, it will keep me on track with my cardio regiment.
 |
| Pageants have often been scrutinized for making women look like Post Op Trannys. Now an actual Post Op will compete in the most prestigious pageant in the world, Miss Universe. Oh the irony. |
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Time to Let Go
I recently gave up the company that I created. I put a lot of passion into creating swimwear that the world had never seen before. My goal was to not just create unique designs, but designs that would flatter a woman's figure like none other. However, my passion became my burden when my business partner began to meddle in my personal life. Yes, he was a great and supportive friend, and in all friendships there are up and downs, but the downs just began to mount up into an emotional hoard that the producers at tlc wouldn't dare tackle. So it is with great relief that I walk away from the dysfunction. Since the few days that have passed since announcing my resignation I'm sleeping through the nights again and I lost three pounds without altering my diet or eating habits. As C.S. Lewis said "There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
It Has Begun...
Faithful readers, the time may be approaching when you can say "I knew her way back when." A very famous name in the swimwear industry recently released a design that looks strikingly similar to one of my own. At first I just dismissed it as coincidence until my business partner pointed out that their IP address was searching my site two months ago. Under normal circumstances I would be very upset but for some reason I am flattered that the big dogs are noticing. I like to think that its only a matter of time before the world takes note.
American Woman
I recently read a blog discussing where the best places are to meet good guys. Some said the grocery store, some said church, some even suggested an expensive gym. Then some guy said all this:
[I just thought it was too funny to not share]
"This is a pretty funny post. All the guys are wondering this too!!!! Survey says 98% of guys want a “good and virtuous girl”. The other 2% are tatted up with gauges and bisexual. I am fed up with American women in general, and the world is too. When I studied outside the states American women were always the brunt of the jokes for being slutty, insane (crying, yelling, acting out, etc.), and acting unintelligent. How many girls do you know not on some prescription drug? Aderall, Zoloft, Xanax, ambien?? None of my buddies take pills to cope, but every girl i know does. I live in a house with two other girls, and their purses are like pharmacies and they would even probably tell you they are nuts. Demanding how much their engagement ring should cost and materialist shi*t like this. I would never even think about trying to date them. American Society (reality TV, retarded magazines, fatherless homes and feminist colleges) has bred materialistic women who are incredibly superficial. Guys like class and you can’t buy it at nordstroms or with some +2′s. We have some of the most beautiful girls in America, but the most morally bankrupt and obnoxious as well. The overall American cultural recession is much worse than the economic recession. If I were to do the internet dating thing, I wouldn’t even check my surrounding area. I would look in France, Germany, Spain, Ireland and Utah."
[I just thought it was too funny to not share]
"This is a pretty funny post. All the guys are wondering this too!!!! Survey says 98% of guys want a “good and virtuous girl”. The other 2% are tatted up with gauges and bisexual. I am fed up with American women in general, and the world is too. When I studied outside the states American women were always the brunt of the jokes for being slutty, insane (crying, yelling, acting out, etc.), and acting unintelligent. How many girls do you know not on some prescription drug? Aderall, Zoloft, Xanax, ambien?? None of my buddies take pills to cope, but every girl i know does. I live in a house with two other girls, and their purses are like pharmacies and they would even probably tell you they are nuts. Demanding how much their engagement ring should cost and materialist shi*t like this. I would never even think about trying to date them. American Society (reality TV, retarded magazines, fatherless homes and feminist colleges) has bred materialistic women who are incredibly superficial. Guys like class and you can’t buy it at nordstroms or with some +2′s. We have some of the most beautiful girls in America, but the most morally bankrupt and obnoxious as well. The overall American cultural recession is much worse than the economic recession. If I were to do the internet dating thing, I wouldn’t even check my surrounding area. I would look in France, Germany, Spain, Ireland and Utah."
Everyone Loves You
I recently went to a Chargers game with my girlfriends, amidst all the cheering and beer runs something stood out to me. There was a family in front of us. A young attractive mother and her adorable eight-year-old daughter were sitting in the seats in front of me. As the game went on the little girl stood on the seat of her chair yelling "Gooo Chaaaargers!" It was kinda cute and I didn't mind because I could still see over the top of her head. A couple times she would turn around and proudly announce "I'm a cheerleader." My friends and I just smiled to acknowledge her. Periodically her mother would lean over and say "you are sooo special" or "everyone loves you." When the Chargers Girls came out to preform during half time they did this sexy routine where they would bend over, flip their hair back, fall on the ground and throw their legs in the air, then the dad would say to the little girl "thats gonna be you someday." I chuckled to myself. The dad even asked us if "we've ever seen a prettier little girl in the whole world?" Meanwhile her two brothers seemed nearly nonexistent. This whole observation of family dynamics seemed so foreign to me. I was never groomed to be loud, sexy and ultra confident during my upbringing, but neither was I ignored for three hours at a time. Oh well, to each their own.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
They're Just Jealous
One of my biggest pet peeves is people who are quick to assume that the world is jealous of them. The majority of the time they are just projecting their insecurities outward. For example, when any level-headed person is faced with conflict, their first thoughts are usually "there must be some sort of misunderstanding" or "I don't understand why they would think that." However, a malicious person's first and only conclusion is always "they're just jealous." Next time that you hear "they're just jealous," see if this theory applies.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Piece of Meat
My experiences with steaks have always been hit or miss. Sometimes I get cheap little Denny's t-bones that are tender and juicy. Other times I get fancy/expensive steakhouse cuts that are tough and hard. It seems like its always based on chance whether or not I get a good steak. So I've finally decided to educate myself on what make a good steak, a good steak.
A couple weeks ago I went into Valley Farms Market looking for a good cut of steak, I was quite clueless. I know that more fat equals more flavor but after that all the cuts look the same to me. I couldn't figure out why one was 8.99/pound and an identical one was 13.99/pound. The butcher asked me if I needed help and I told him that I was trying to pick out a good steak for grilling but I didn't know a thing about steak. Of course he recommended the most expensive one, the porter house. He also recommended that I get two pounds. He said that in addition to the nice marbelization, the marrow from the bone adds flavor. When I saw that the price came out to thirty-five dollars I felt a little bamboozled. I was wary to not ruin thirty-five dollars worth of meat so I went home and carefully followed all of the butcher's instructions: "let the meat thaw to room temperature for forty-five minutes, lightly coat with olive oil and lightly sprinkle Montreal seasoning, grill on medium-high heat for seven minutes on each side, and then allow it to turn over for another seven minutes. What ever you do, don't close the grill." I did just as he instructed and it was well worth the extra cost. It was the tenderest, juiciest tastiest steak I've ever tasted!
Today I went back to Valley Farms and I asked the butcher what the difference is between a standard t-bone and a porter house t-bone. He said that the smaller side of the t-bone is the filet mignon, so since the porter house is cut near the center it has a much larger area of filet mignon. The difference became obvious, because I do remember the smaller side being my favorite part. He added that if I go to a fancy steak house and order a porter house they will give me a much larger porter house from a Texas Longhorn Steer. He added that his steaks were much better because they are cut from a smaller more stocky cow, an Omaha Angus. He said that Omaha Angus coined the original term "butterball," because of their stocky build and buttery taste. Also if I drive though the country I will see them lying down on their left sides. Since they use their right side to get up, the meat from the left side is much more tender.
So now I can't wait to go to a fancy steakhouse and order a porter house steak. I'll ask if it's from a Texas Longhorn or an Omaha Angus and whether the cute is from the right or left side. I'll sound so smart!
[I also found this very straight forward website that breaks it all down in lame men terms. It even includes how each piece should be seasoned and cooked! Steak Definitions ]
A couple weeks ago I went into Valley Farms Market looking for a good cut of steak, I was quite clueless. I know that more fat equals more flavor but after that all the cuts look the same to me. I couldn't figure out why one was 8.99/pound and an identical one was 13.99/pound. The butcher asked me if I needed help and I told him that I was trying to pick out a good steak for grilling but I didn't know a thing about steak. Of course he recommended the most expensive one, the porter house. He also recommended that I get two pounds. He said that in addition to the nice marbelization, the marrow from the bone adds flavor. When I saw that the price came out to thirty-five dollars I felt a little bamboozled. I was wary to not ruin thirty-five dollars worth of meat so I went home and carefully followed all of the butcher's instructions: "let the meat thaw to room temperature for forty-five minutes, lightly coat with olive oil and lightly sprinkle Montreal seasoning, grill on medium-high heat for seven minutes on each side, and then allow it to turn over for another seven minutes. What ever you do, don't close the grill." I did just as he instructed and it was well worth the extra cost. It was the tenderest, juiciest tastiest steak I've ever tasted!
Today I went back to Valley Farms and I asked the butcher what the difference is between a standard t-bone and a porter house t-bone. He said that the smaller side of the t-bone is the filet mignon, so since the porter house is cut near the center it has a much larger area of filet mignon. The difference became obvious, because I do remember the smaller side being my favorite part. He added that if I go to a fancy steak house and order a porter house they will give me a much larger porter house from a Texas Longhorn Steer. He added that his steaks were much better because they are cut from a smaller more stocky cow, an Omaha Angus. He said that Omaha Angus coined the original term "butterball," because of their stocky build and buttery taste. Also if I drive though the country I will see them lying down on their left sides. Since they use their right side to get up, the meat from the left side is much more tender.
So now I can't wait to go to a fancy steakhouse and order a porter house steak. I'll ask if it's from a Texas Longhorn or an Omaha Angus and whether the cute is from the right or left side. I'll sound so smart!
[I also found this very straight forward website that breaks it all down in lame men terms. It even includes how each piece should be seasoned and cooked! Steak Definitions ]
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