Sunday, December 19, 2010

Q4 In Review

My blog has gone to shit.

Which makes me sad, but apparently not sad enough to do anything about it.

Here's my problem.  Everyday, I go to work.  And then I go workout.  And then I go home, eat, shower, check my email, Facebook, Twitter, watch a little TV and go to bed.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Would you like to read about that?

Fuck no.

So let's just do a year-end recap and call it an evening.  First, the shocking news, I am working out regularly.  Why, you ask?  I have no idea.  I go to pilates twice a week because I absolutely adore my pilates instructor.  I can't stop staring at her amazing cans, and she's got a sparkling personality to boot.  So there's that.  Then, my husband came to the unfortunate conclusion that we really do absolutely nothing together except watch some TV while we eat dinner, and one of his pals happened to have recently opened a Cross Fit gym, so said (soon-to-be-ex) husband thought it would be a brilliant idea if we started going to Cross Fit together to both get in shape and have something to do together.

Dude, that Cross Fit shit is hardcore.

Do you KNOW me?  I am not fucking hardcore.  Maybe about sleeping and eating, but definitely not about working out.

But yes, this is what has become of me.

Total utter humiliation every time I go.  I'm pretty much always the slowest, weakest, and chubbiest.  It's done wonders for my self-esteem, as you can tell.  Ha.  But, Mr. FGD ((in case you've forgotten because it's been so long - that's me, Feminist Gold Digger, and the Mr. is my mister) is just thrilled to the gills that we have something to do together, so I keep going.  Even though I'd prefer to just stick my finger down my throat and call it a day.  So bad for the teeth though.

In happier news, I recently reunited with some former besties that I'd grown apart from over the years.  It's like the good old days, except some of us have knocked out some little ones (uh, not me), some of us have gotten married, and some of us have aged a little (definitely not me [guffaw!]).  Here's our recent romp in our old stomping ground of K-Town.

Yes, in Q4, Casper overtook my body.

The FGDs also sent out the annual holiday card and used yet another photo from the 2008 holiday shoot by our pal Nate in Laguna Beach.  Yep, that's 3 years in a row I've used a photo from that shoot.  Way to be economical, or something.

Oops, blurry scan.  Oh well, you get the idea.  JOY from the FGDs and all that holiday cheer.

Let's see, what else.  Oh yes, mini FGD got a new Halloween costume this year.  She was a frog, and hated every second of it.  Unfortunately, all of the photos I took were on my old Blackberry.  Sniffle.

I got a new phone, the Droid X, which I lubs lubs lubs.  And Mr. FGD got a new iPad which he lubs lubs lubs.  Not as much as me, of course.

The end!  Happy holidays!

Sunday, September 12, 2010

When Gays and Gators Converge in the Bayou

You know I just can't get enough of the Deep South and unbearable humidity, so over Labor Day the FGDs trekked down to the beautiful(?) state of Louisiana. Mr. FGD's granny was turning 90, and it was a big ole Cajun family reunion in her honor. Try as I might, Mr. FGD just wasn't letting me get out of it.

We eased into our Deep South arrival with a quick overnight stay in New Orleans. Lucky for me, one of my best gays was with us, was Southern Decadence! That's right, a big ole Gay Mardi Gras in one of the most homophobic parts of the country! Sign me up!

But first, we headed to Jacques-Imo's for an authentic taste of "Nawlns" and part one of several 10,000-calorie days.

(Poor photography this trip is compliments of Mr. FGD. I was too busy mopping the sweat from my nether regions.)

The blue-eyed brothers appearing to be a little in shock at having landed in this strange part of the world. (Read: they grew up visiting here and it's completely normal to them, but I was a fish out of water and this is my blog so I'll tell it how I want to tell it.)

Jason, still in shock. Me, just beginning the start of a 4-day humidity-inspired "glow."

This alligator was also told it would be a 45 minute wait for dinner, and as the clock turned past the one hour point, took things into his own hands. Or mouth.

After an hour and a half of waiting for a table, we finally got seated around 10 pm. This is me, in a humidity and hunger-inspired shock, before I started gnawing on the menu:

There are no photos of dinner. We were too fucking hungry.

Next, we went back to our hotel in the French Quarter to get ready for a big gay night out. I thought wearing my gay-for-the-night's shades would help me channel my inner Southern Decadence.

Good look, no? In fact, later in the trip, we also convinced Mr. FGD's mom that it would be a good look for her too.

Before we left the hotel, my fabulous gay-for-the-night asked me whether I thought he should wear the tank top or the t-shirt. I thought for a second, and said, well, how gay do you want to look?

Answer: he went with the tank.

I just went for the sweaty look.

But no, really, I was totes happy to be there.

In case you forgot already who was taking the photos this trip, I'll just remind you that it wasn't me or my gay brother in law:

The next morning, while I slept in, Mr. FGD got up early to walk over to his beloved Cafe du Monde for some world-famous beignets.

So you can probably imagine my surprise when Mr. FGD returned to the room empty handed.

Don't. even. speak. to. me. if. you. don't. have beignets.


With the morning off to a fabulous start, we headed further south for yes, a Louisiana Swamp Tour.

Fortunately, it was 97 degrees and 100% humidity, and I was in a *fabulous* mood.

Who knew the West LA (that's Los Angeles, not Louisiana) gay would feel right at home?

To further enhance my cheery mood, the bayou party got started with a startling splash of high-speed swamp water. Cheerio.

Good thing one of us was having fun.

Believe it or not, things started looking up when eyeballs started popping up all over the swamp.

What's not to love about swamp aliens who share my love of junk food?

I could totally snuggle right up to these puppies.

This poor chap was having a bad hair day.

And like me, this big guy was hungry!  (His partner must have come back empty-handed from the bayou beignet shop too.)

You may have thought Elvis was dead, but turns out he's swimmin along the swamps of south Louisiana:

Me, Elvis, and what a swamp tour does to your hair:

Elvis and his gay fan base:

Creepy. Would not want to be out here at night.

Who needs an expensive salon blowout when you can rock the swamp look?

For the rest of the trip, we ate fried food...

and more fried food...

and visited with 90-year old granny

and never, was I ever so happy to return to Orange County.


Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Gourmet fumes (and a Ludo bite)

This past weekend was the first annual(?) OCfoodiefest, a food festival (duh) with 50 LA/OC food trucks. The LA food truck craze has finally made its way down to the Orange Curtain, and us lucky OCers finally get to enjoy some gourmet food out of a truck. What's not to like.

Anyway, they sold out at 8500 tickets to the event and we had to wait in a mammoth line to get in. There is absolutely nothing interesting about the following 2 pictures. I was just bored and hot standing in line. Sorry?

Once we finally got in, Mr. FGD and I divided and conquered. I made a beeline for the Frysmith truck.
Great fries with really yummy shit on top.

I had to stand in line for 20 minutes so here's some more pictures. Sorry for the photo barf.

I have no idea who this dude in these photos is, but I liked his french fries.

I finally got my Truffle Poutine fries (cheese curds with truffle gravy smattered over french fries) but I am a fucktastic photographer when it's bright and sunny out, so I don't expect you to actually believe that these are Truffle Poutine. Trust.

While I waited in line for the Truffle Poutine fries (nomnomnom) Mr. FGD waited in line for the Dumpling Station truck. Guess what they sell?

Yes, those are dumplings.

Next, I moved on to a Korean pub food truck, because I love me Korean homies and they had a "Korean nacho" dish that was supposed to be yummy. Lucky for you, I didn't try and take a craptastic picture of the actual food dish. I couldn't find Mr. FGD, and the juices from the dish were dripping all over me so I decided to do the smart thing and just shovel the whole dish in my face. Craptastic pre-shovel photos of the Ahn-Joo truck:

Things sorta went downhill after this. Mr. FGD got in line for Great Balls on Tires, which were supposed to have totes rad sandwich balls. We didn't realize how many people in OC love sandwich balls. Let's just say it *might* have taken an hour and forty-five minutes to get through the line and finally get the food. Why the hell did we wait that long, you might ask?? You know when you're about 30 mins in, and you figure it can't really be that much longer, and you've already waited 30 mins, so you might as well see it through? And then another 30 mins go by and you start to realize that you're fucked, but by this point you've been in line for an hour, and you're hot and sweaty and getting pissed off, but you've got to see it through to the end now, right? Yeah, that was us.

This is Mr. FGD, about 40 mins in, trying to look really pissed off and put out in general, but he started laughing and got a dumb look on his face instead. And who am I to deprive my readers of dumb Mr. FGD faces?

Hey's the Filipino truck! Team Lumpia!

While Mr. FGD continued to battle the line for juicy ball sandwiches, I met up with my pal eClaire and ate some more. I had previously seen sexpot French chef Ludo Lefebvre's LudoBites truck, but overheard someone sadly reporting that Ludo wasn't at foodiefest.

I was a sad bear when I heard that Ludo wasn't around. I wanted to see the hottie, moody, cursing Ludo myself! Waaaah.

And then......

Mr. FGD started yelling for my attention and I couldn't figure out why he was jerking around strangely and sputtering, Ludo...Ludo...Luuuddoooooo!

Oh. OH!!!

The true stalker inside me came out.

I may or may not have been flailing about, wildly snapping blurry photographs of this strange, beloved French chef, when a lovely blonde woman (who, after I came to my senses, recognized as his wife), tapped Ludo [swoon] on his shoulder and said, "I think someone wants to take a picture with you."

SQUEAL, aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, SQUEAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In all its overlybright, blurry goodness, I present you:


Oh, and stupid Claire who looks way skinnier than I do. Bitch.


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