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.

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.

Melody, Kyle and Abbi at Sweet Basil

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

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.

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.

Exibitionist

 The Belizean Embassy in Los Angeles recently hosted a series of art shows show-casing Belizean Talent. I was very honored to participate, especially since I was the youngest artist in the series. The opening ceremony was about as awkward as a Junior high dance. The crowd seemed kinda "cliquish" and I was asked to make impromptu presentations about my art. However, I recently had my opening reception for my solo exhibit, and the atmosphere was much lighter. I was overwhelmed by the out poring of support and generosity. I couldn't believe how many people took time out of their Saturday to support me.  My mom was present, she made a point to introduce herself to everyone and peculated the crowd. The ladies of the consulate prepared some mean Mayan-seasoned enchiladas. I brought my home-made chocolate cake and Sangria. All of which disappeared in record time. My paintings also sold in record time. My Belizean community relished at the opportunity to support the cancer center by purchasing my work. After presenting my pieces, all had been purchased within twenty minutes. I have my wonderful boyfriend to thank for coordinating the sales. Since I've cut the negative people out of my life, I've now realized how many wonderful and supportive people I'm surrounded by. I am very grateful for everyone in my life and I just hope that I am aware of the vast blessings and opportunities that are present in my day to day experience.

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.

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.