Anni Hispanni

2010-11-05T00:22:00.000-07:00

The Single Gal's Haiku-Fest

Her search is on

To find a man to love her

She needs a compass

Danced until half past

Whenever. Calls never. Oh!

Should have worn the Spanks.

Paying for dinner

Gets big Brownie points sir

No kiss? WTF?

Should I call him first

Resist the urge to dial

I thought it went well

No chemistry darn

back to drawing board again

make the booty call

I won’t drive too far

Will she come to me for drinks

Is the drive worth it

Show legs or cleavage

Tough call. maybe both. neither?

First date. Sweats! why not?

Likes 80’s music

Whisky and loose women too

Unshaven legs won’t help

Online dating sucks

Shocked most can’t spell ‘you are’

Deal breaker for sure

Hot dog suit is cute

Talked long, beat him at Scrabble

He's really something

He brings her flowers

She makes dinner and then woops

Third date kiss runs long

It only takes one

To make it all worthwhile so

Just keep on truckin’

Finally it worked

Perfection at last. So great

We get each other

2010-10-25T22:52:00.000-07:00

Mean Girls

I have often struggled with female friendships. Women put so much responsibility on each other to be a safety net from the treachery of life. We seek solace in each other. When the relationship is going well, a sense of solidarity and understanding causes an extreme bond. When a rift develops (and inevitably does) we feel abandoned, betrayed, and misunderstood. Here is my take in a nutshell:

I have had many different types of friendships with women in my youth and adulthood and have found an undercurrent of co-dependence and competition in all of them at one point or another. I have been the less-pretty wing woman for a particular girlfriend with daddy issues who needed the attention of men in order to feel validated. I have been the stronger, supportive friend who is relied upon as the "shoulder to cry on". In either situation, one woman is in a position of power over the other. It takes a highly evolved person to maintain female friendships because of the constant power struggle. In my late 20's I have found these relationships challenging because the different life stages women find themselves in. This is where I have found the statement "birds of a feather flock together" to be true. Married women and single women have a more difficult time relating to each other and resentments can stem from jealousy. Likewise, with women with and without children. Priorities are shifted. In order to bridge the gap there needs to be more compassion for each others lifestyles and priorities. Since female relationships rely heavily on the support system, trying situations cause us to take things personally and seek validation from other friends which lends itself to cattiness, gossip, and exclusion. Just like any relationship, ebbs and flows will occur based on circumstance. Being true to yourself, having an open heart, and cultivating self worth from within and not from the opinions of your girlfriends can lend itself to maintaining long lasting friendships with women.

Like a game of Survivor, I have been voted off the island more than once. It's hurtful and infuriating. What I have learned through these experiences though, is that each person who comes into our lives serves a purpose. Friendships do not have to last forever. If we are fortunate, they do last a life time, but not without bumps in the road a long the way. Choose to stick with friends who make you feel good about yourself and be sure to nurture them to ensure you make them feel the same way. Give each other space to lead your own lives and don't meddle or be too opinionated about the others life decisions.

2009-02-02T16:53:00.000-08:00

When one door closes, another one opens

Or, what I mean, is when I close one door, I slam the fucker so hard that 6 or 7 open. The past month has been a whirlwind. In a nutshell:

I lost my job

I got a boyfriend

I got my job back

As a result, got a promotion

Losing my job was the bitch slap of clarity I needed to get honest with myself about my abilities, aspirations, what is necessary vs. frivolous desire. I got in touch with true gratitude and loosened my grasp on what I thought I had control over. I relaxed and lightened up. I had no idea how tightly wound I had been. The loss was sudden and I was angry. I was bitter and my feelings were hurt. Fortunately for my ego, I was not singled out-everyone lost their job that day- so I still had that to hold on to. Until I got on Craigslist to look for my dream job.

I realized as I searched the classifieds that I had my dream job. I still felt that I had so much to learn and to give as a Matchmaker. Alas, I knew that I would find nothing that sounded like fun if it meant sitting in a cubicle. Thus, I began brain storming ideas about starting my own business, which I still may do, but that all changed when I was asked to not only come back, but to come back with a promotion AND a raise. WTF, UNIVERSE? Thanks! Needless to say, Life is action packed, days are long and I am being pulled in a million different directions. Really though, I couldn't ask for a better life right now.

That being said, The Boyfriend--Mr. Hilarious. We are sickening sweet twitterpated with eachother. All I have to say is that I finally started practicing what I was preaching, decided not to settle for less than perfect, and I got it. And then some.

Case in point, an email exchange from today. Back story, I made him soup last night and he took the left overs for lunch today.

To: Mr. Hilarious
From: Anni Hispanni
It always tastes better the next day...Did you dance around your office with your soup singing "I love SOOOOOUUUP!!!"? I can picture it now...You are sitting at your desk and everytime someone walks by you shout "See this soup?!? My GIRLFRIEND made me this soup!" Better cool it or one of your coworkers is going to gun you down. Then who would I make soup for, huh?

My imagination is in overdrive today.

To: Anni Hispannni
From: Mr. Hilarious
You know, that's actually a pretty accurate account of my past hour!I'm definitely obnoxious today. Obnoxious in love. I'm going to start wearing a bullet-proof vest around the office.
Seriously though, this soup is fucking GOOD! Let me say once more that you are the best girlfriend that any guy has ever had, ever. Smart, funny, sexy, an amazing cook... I couldn't design a better woman!
I can't wait to see you tonight!

That's what I'm talking about, ladies. Le sigh!

2009-01-08T13:53:00.000-08:00

If my Vagina could talk...

It would say "Closed for improvements. Will not be in operation until further notice"

This dating thing is not working out. I suppose I need to just regroup and enjoy living my life for me for a little while. In all honesty, I feel relieved around my decision. I have so much more time on my hands (and between my legs!) now that I don't have to tidy up my apartment and shave my vag 2 times a week. With all this time left over I will be rehearsing for my role in The Vagina Monologues (AWESOME!), writing here more often, and taking dance lessons. I haven't decided what kind of dancing yet, but since I have ruled out the Horizontal Mambo, I am thinking of burlesque. Salsa, if I lose my nerve. The dancehall is not out of business for good, y'all!

So...Yay for me! Onward with the self improvement and such!

I just could not take the high road on this last dating debacle. We'll call him The Hot Danish. I. Do not. Geddit.

At the risk of sounding like a whiny 5 year old--HE STARTED IT!!! He called. Invited me out. Showed up. Paid. Kissed me good night. Texted me after. Rinse and repeat 5 times.

He then calls me 2 days AFTER we "took things to the next level" to ask me a food related question. I think this is the only time I would have preferred a booty call over a foody call. Feeling pretty annoyed, yet still hopeful, I gave him space. I gave him space for 1 week. I then proceded to write him this today:

Hey Hot Danish!
I'm assuming that you aren't dead, that you aren't being held captive by terrorists, or stranded in the desert.
I happen to be a fan of communication. It's pretty clear that you are not--at least communicating with me anyway. That happens to be one of my prerequisites for dating someone though. So... I had a good time getting to know you and am pretty disappointed that we never got to have that big blow out fight where I told you that your penis is small. That would have made me a liar though, which I am not. Most of the time.
I think you're pretty awesome (aside from the not calling me thing, that kind of sucks) and I wish you all the best on your dating endeavors.

Best,
Anni Hispanni

Okay, so it's more than a little passive aggressive. This is growth for me though! I don't think I have ever called a guy out on his douchebaggery in such a snarky way. I just became my own hero today.

I think I'm off to a good start on this whole self improvement gig.

2008-12-15T11:34:00.000-08:00

WE'VE GOT THE FUNK!

If you're looking for a disco party, you've come to the wrong place. Though I have been known to rock an afro and bust out The Hustle from time to time, I just haven't been feeling like my bad self lately. My groove thang does not want to shake, thank you very much.

I know that things are pretty bad when I start choosing to stay inside my apartment watching reruns of Wifeswap in my stretch pants. By the way, if you have never watched Wifeswap I highly recommend it. On last night's episode one wife asked the other wife "What if your son came to you one day and told you that he wanted to be a GAY GARBAGE MAN?!?!". I could think of worse hypthetical scenarios, myself. I think my response to that question is "Sweet! Take down the recycling and when you get back we can sing showtunes together!" What can I say? Despite the general malaise that has taken over my psyche, I am still an optimist!

I digress...I actually have no idea what exactly is causing me to feel like an emotional zombie lately. That's what is so frustrating about it! I just can't pinpoint the root of all this evil going on inside my head. I used to have a solution for this feeling. It involved drinking enough wine to kill a horse while bawling on the phone to anyone who was brave enough to answer and take on The Crazy. Usually it was my Mom. Nothing really phases her though. I am sure that I inherited the Fuck It Switch from her, in fact. I'll provide evidence in the form of an email she sent me today:

Anni,
I was sending an email and I was including the smileys from smiley central. Saw this one and immediately thought of you. I know you will appreciate it. PS. Papa’s hip is broken.

I shit you not. The Smiley graphic was of a smiley wearing a scarf and beanie trying to pry his tongue of a frozen pole in the snow. Hilarious that not only did she think of me when she saw this graphic, but also that I would TOTALLY IDENTIFY! After all, I do tend to make poor, nonsensical decisions like licking a frozen pole all the time!Oh yeah! Papa's hip is broken too! Just thought I'd let ya know!

Jesus, I don't even know what to do with that piece of information. I have always struggled with feelings of guilt for living far away from my family and not feeling like an intregal part of "The Tribe". This is just icing on the cake. I am going home for Christmas so I will be able to spend some time with my ailing Grandfather, but I guess that I am afraid that this may very well be the last Christmas I have with him. Just sort of a bummer! I doubt there is a Smiley graphic for broken hips and broken hearts.

Despite all of this, I just have to remember that my life is really, really awesome. I live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, I have two jobs that I absolutely love (most of the time!), my Grandpa and a lot of other family members that I love are still around to spend Holidays with, I have a gay room mate who takes out the garbage and listens to techno pop while he does it, and most of all, I have great friends to shake my groove thang with when the occasion calls for it.

2008-12-04T16:13:00.000-08:00

The perils of online dating

When I was 18 years old, naive, and reeling from breaking up with my high school "sweetheart", I decided to hit the information super highway for love. I started chatting online with some righteous babes right away and quickly became addicted to the plethora of young available guys prowling the net. I spent countless evenings exchanging flirty banter, taking the perfect self portrait on my webcam, and then one fateful night I found him.

His screen name was Tahoebro78 and he was oh so dreamy. He regaled me with tales of road tripping across the U.S. following Phish tours and breaking his leg rock climbing.After chatting online with him for 2 days we set up a day to meet up and spent the remainder of that evening talking on the phone. I was smitten. I was ready to meet my future husband.

I had never been on a blind date before and I was so nervous that I spent the entire day changing my outfit, curling and re-curling my hair. At 6:00 I finally had chosen the perfect outfit. A cotton candy pink zip up sweater, light blue flare bottom jeans, and white and pink converse. I sprayed myself down for the 50th time with Tommy Girl Perfume and hid in my room until the door bell rang at 6:15. I answered the door and there he was. Every bit as gorgeous as I had pictured in my mind. He was sweet and boyish with thick chin length blond hair tucked behind his ears and wore a thrift store sweater and corduroy pants. We exchanged an awkward hug and I am positive that I giggled some nonsense about leaving before he had to meet my Dad.

I don't remember what we talked about on the ride over to the game park where we were to race go-carts, but the conversation went smooth and easy like the green hit off a freshly packed water bong. We laughed together and sang along to the soundtrack of The Grateful Dead playing on the cassette player that sat between us on the center console of his shiny Super Wagoneer.

As we pulled into the parking lot he playfully mentioned that he was actually quite competitive and I had better prepare myself to be left in the dust. Little did I know that in mere moments I would be eating his words.

Being the perfect gentleman that he had turned out to be, he told me to wait in the car so that he could come around and open the door for me. He grabbed my hand and kissed me on the cheek as I hopped out into the giant gravel parking lot of the game park. We linked hands and began to walk up to the entrance when he turned to me and asked...

"Wanna race?"

He could have asked me if I wanted to do The Worm over hot coals and I would have acquiesced if it meant he would fall in love with me.

Since it had been a good 10 years since I had last sprinted full throttle I thought that this very moment was as good as any to take it up again. I looked into his dreamy blue eyes and accepted his challenge. Before the words could leave my lips he was in a full on sprint with a good 5 yard lead. I took off behind him doing my best to keep up. My mind was racing along with my legs and I'm thinking:You know, this is kind of ridiculous. What kind of guy challenges his date to a race? He's totally kicking my ass too. Oh my god...I hope I don't have pit stains after this.

Pit stains would be the least of my worries. As my body careened onward I could feel the weight of my shoulders pulling me down. Picture a duck with its wings tucked back, gaining speed, neck craned out into the universe, propelling itself faster and faster before it's grand ascendance. That was me, but there would be no grand ascendance into the horizon.

Fortunately, Mr. Granola was so far ahead of me he had no idea that there was such a spectacle going on behind him. Feeling a bit of relief that he was completely oblivious to me, I began to recover my stride when the unthinkable occurred. I could feel my pristine white and pink Converse One-Star make it's great escape from my right foot. There was nothing I could do to compete with the force of my body's increasing speed in conjunction with the betrayal of my footwear.

I was going DOWN.

I slid into the asphalt like it was a Slip n' Slide. The all too familiar sting of gravel infiltrating my palms brought me back to my childhood, and that really isn't ever a fun place for my mind to wander. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts and take inventory of what had just transpired. When I gathered the courage to look up, Mr. Granola was charging up the steps doing his best Rocky Balboa impersonation. He looked behind him as he reached the top of the steps, arms still pumping in the air when the Security Guard tapped him on the shoulder and pointed across the vast parking lot at me. I was still on the ground waiting for the universe to do me a solid and swallow me whole.

Mr. Granola rushed back over and peeled me up from the pavement and hugged me. It was then that I looked down and noticed that my clothing was streaked with asphalt and my jeans were ripped at the knee exposing a gnarly glistening strawberry. I looked like I had just been run over by an 18 wheeler. Attractive look for a first date, no?

In retrospect, I question his chivalry because he didn't offer to drive me back home to change. I'm a trooper though and I made a weak joke about how he would look after I kicked his as on the go-cart track. He ended up pummeling me in that department as well. So much for a pity win! Competitive indeed, no lie.

So I suppose at this point, you may be wondering what came to be of Mr. Granola and me. Well, let's just say that it all ended in a park very late at night after copious amounts of weed had been spliffed and a promise that I wouldn't get any diseases from allowing him to fondle my nether regions.

There are some real charmers wandering around the internetz.

2008-11-28T17:45:00.000-08:00

Snow (flakes)

Is it the economy? The Holidays? Do I smell bad? Because within the past 2 days I have had 5 people cancel plans with me at the last minute. Hand to God, I am not this bitchy in person.

I think the icing on the cake was when The Missionary canceled going to Thanksgiving dinner with me. I'm not so much upset that he wasn't there, but honestly I'm just baffled at the absurdity of it all. He called me and asked me what to bring to the party the day before! Then...

*Crickets*

I defy the gospel of all the dating advice I have scoured over in the past year (for work I tell you!) and I call him. Then text him. Then call him. Then text him. Finally I get a response 15 minutes before I am set to go over to the party that says:

"Hi Anni. Sorry for not getting back to you sooner, but I couldn't do the dinner. I'll owe you for the cheese and crackers if you are not too mad. Have a Happy Thanksgiving."

Let's break this down, shall we?

Hi Anni
Oh! Hello there! Where did you come from?

Sorry for not getting back to you sooner
This is not a get out of jail free card for inconsiderate behavior, SORRY.

but I couldn't do the dinner.
Assuming that making a phone call is too arduous for you, I'm genuinely shocked.

I'll owe you for the cheese and crackers if you are not too mad.
You owe me for more than cheese and crackers, dude. Money makes the heart grow fonder, though.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving.
Fuck your compliment sandwich.

Obviously, I am taking this personally when in reality, this has absolutely nothing to do with my value. I have cancelled plans, and pretty much slid off the face of the Earth to avoid talking to someone I was no longer interested in. I have never stood anyone up though. It's a deal breaker.

All I have to say is that rejection is the Universe's protection because I actually DID have a Happy Thanksgiving! There were a couple of totally cute available guys at the party I attended, and who brings a sandwich to a buffet?

2008-09-22T14:09:00.000-07:00

Who's calling the shots here!?!?

What is it with men these days? I really just do not understand what gives men the sense of entitlement to expect a woman to be okay with being a booty call. Time is money, and I am one valuable commodity. However, last time I checked, I wasn't a prostitute. Also? I tend to attract starving artists, so the likelihood of pursuing such a profession may prove to be a fruitless endeavor.

I have no problem being a pimp, though. I'm really good at it.

Day in and day out I spend hours on end speaking with men and women looking for that special someone to love. There are always expectations on that potential special someone. They must be tall, short, thin, muscular, active, educated, but not too educated, funny, have children, not have children. The list goes on and on. It is my job to seek out those that fit this criteria, organize a meeting, and cross my fingers that there is chemistry. Sure, I understand that we are all entitled to set our own rules of attraction. I have a pretty broad list myself. It just seems that today, in a society where any desire can be fulfilled at a price, a lot of people lose sight of what makes love so wonderful.

The attributes of a meaningful healthy relationship...Passion, devotion, loyalty, respect, support, companionship, open up a whole new can of worms. There is the potential that "things will get stale", for betrayal, becoming an emotional doormat, abandonment.

In short, the driving force for unrealistic expectations is a lack of faith in love that lasts and willingness to accept the possibility of the shit hitting the fan. And surviving.

Which brings me back to the booty call.

I have just begun to date pretty aggressively in the past 4 months. A few men have given me the "I'm not ready for a girlfriend" line in a series of variations running from "I'm not over my ex (thanks for making me your litmus test!) to "I just don't want to feel obligated to hang out with you" (I never twisted your arm to stay in bed with me until 3 am!).

Well, I am so happy that you got that little nugget of clarity AFTER you kicked your boots off under my bed.

Scratch that. I wanted it more than you did cowboy, this is not my first trip to the rodeo. Could you just be kind enough to get your ass up on the saddle and hang on for the long ride?

2008-08-22T09:51:00.000-07:00

All I needed to hear on Public Transportation

Everyday when I wake up I carefully select my outfit. This process always begins with the mood I am in and how I wish to project myself on the world that day. Transformative, as if my outfit will somehow turn me into the person I envision myself being.
Sometimes I will elect for something a little edgy: Fishnet stockings, black knee high boots. On those days I am the angst ridden vixen who kicks ass and takes names later. On occasion I will take to the other end of the spectrum and opt for a very classic, Hepburn-esque look complete with pearl earings and a bouffant-style bun. Sure, the idea is a little a little silly and contrived, but "fake it till you make it!" seems to be my mantra these days.
Today I donned the "Sexy Susie Homemaker" getup. Polka dot shirtwaste dress, red patent leather sling-back pumps ("the headturners"), hoop earings, and tied my hair up in a messy bun with a black head band. Sexy, classy, capable. Everything I did not feel I was when I woke up this morning. Somehow I needed to mask the pit in the middle of my torso that is no longer occupied by the feelings of love and security I felt when I had a boyfriend. Put on a little lipstick, darling. Everything will be okay!
I went into work, set people up on dates, counseled some people on their dating practices, even encouraged some 'love-connections'. Made love happen for a lot of people whilst checking Craigslist Missed Connections and Match.com for any sign that there is someone out there who has an interest in loving me. Alas, nada today.
Feeling a little defeated, perhaps even jaded, I get on the 47 Van Ness. At this point my mind is screaming "Calgon take me away!" as I head back to my small apartment where I will greet my very large tub. Approaching the next empty seat on the bus, I can feel the eyes of a very well dressed elderly black gentleman follow me. He beams when I take the seat next to him.
The bus then jolts us along Van Ness and he leans in closer to me.

"Can I say something to you, ma'am?" he asks sweetly. I take a moment to assess that he is in fact, harmless and I manage to chirp out "Yes?"
" YOU ARE ONE GRADE A FOXY LADY!"
"Thank you! You just made my day!" I offered back, genuinely flattered, quite amused.

A moment later he has gathered his courage. He leans in closer to me and now, with a devilish gleam in his eye he whispers "Can I just ask you one more thing?" I'm a little sceptical but I quickly conclude that no matter what he says, the comedic value will be totally worth it. "Absolutely."
"Do you need an escort?"
"Ummm...No, thank you. I do just fine on my own." I smirk. "Well, you sure are pretty." he says as he slinks back into his seat. You can't blame him for trying! "And you are a gentleman." I say to him "You've still got it." I wink at him. He nods in appreciation.

I suppose I do too.

2008-03-31T23:19:00.000-07:00

I AM 25

I am having to continually remind myself of this fact more and more often as of late. It helps me to stay put, live right now, just for the peace of being here, right now.

My accomplishments are admirable. My stamp on the world, my tiny universe, is indelible. I am proud of my work. It is significant, rewarding, sultry, and delicious. Yet, I struggle. If I was paid in pride, I would be a very rich girl. Unfortunately, pride does not pay the bills.

All of my life I have just wanted to be older, wiser, THERE. Just to have all of it done and out of the way. My impatience with life diminishes my gratitude for everything that exists in this moment. Like Varuca Salt screams "I WANT IT NOW!!!", I'm just not ready for my golden egg.

Emotionally, financially, demographically, I am still a baby.

I just wish I didn't feel so old.

2008-01-23T10:03:00.000-08:00

Leaps and Bound(arie)s

I have a task for you. Keep a notebook with you at all times for a week. In that time, jot down every single time someone annoys you. It isn't as much fun as you might think. Bring an extra pen and a thick notebook. Not because you may run out of ink or paper, but because they will come in handy when you decide to clock someone in the back of the head or perhaps stab them in the knee a la Sarah Connor in Terminator 2. Not that I'm encouraging assault, you just may want to give yourself options.

The objective of this exercise is not to vent your frustrations on our companions on public transportation. The objective of this exercise is to gain insight into our own character defects. A little game of You're an Asshole, I'm an Asshole if you will. Let's play, shall we?

An older gentelman gets on the bus. As the bus lunges forward, the man stumbles onto the seat in front of him. An elderly woman sitting at the front of the bus shouts at him repeatedly, "SIT DOWN! SIT DOWN! WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO SIT IN THE BACK WHEN YOU ARE HANDICAPPED???" I was irritated because it was not her business where and when the man chose to sit down. I was also upset that she was yelling and disturbing me and other people on the bus.

It was not my business that the woman was being rude. I am taking her inventory. I am possessive over space which does not belong to me.

See? She's an asshole, I am an asshole. We are all equals.

I feel better already.

2008-01-17T14:58:00.000-08:00

2007 redux

Many changes have transpired at Casa de Mexcellence in the last year. Let me share them with you!

No longer living in sin with her boyfriend, nor witnessing random acts of violence on a daily basis, Anni Hispanni will not be speaking about herself in the third person from this sentence forward.

Ahem.

Since I last wrote here I have aquiesced to the following pieces of advice from friends, family, and random strangers:

"Put down the wine glass already!"-Everyone

"You should try going back on that diet of yours." -Grandpa

"Have you ever thought about breaking up with that guy? He sure is an asshole!"-Yellow cab driver

Love! Support! Guidance!

Broken down into pounds I have lost:

Empties: 1 garbage bag per week weighing roughly 20 lbs=1,040
Poundage lost as a result of not drinking contents of said Empties=30
Disjoining of "that guy"= 160

Grand total= 1,230 pounds!

Put that on your wagon Oprah!

Yes, the load is lighter around these here parts and I hope to write more often this year.

2007-03-30T12:24:00.000-07:00

Heh. Hehehehehe.

During a sushi class:

Oldish upper class white woman: Well, we AMERICANS are fast learners!

Later...

OUCWW: Why do they call it immitation crab?
Chef: Because it isn't crab.
OUCWW: What is it then?
Chef: It's pollack. A type of fish.
OUCWW:Then why don't they call it immitation fish?

*Because apparently "they" aren't stupid.

Just now in the lobby...

"I've never bought a bad album by Seal or Sade."

2007-02-28T12:15:00.000-08:00

Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon

A few years back I went to the album debut party for Fieldy's Dreams. I met Sophia Coppola there who directed the Virgin Suicides. Kirsten Dunst starred in this film and co-starred with Tom Cruise in Interview with a Vampire. Tom Cruise Starred with Dustan Hoffman in Rainman. Dustin Hoffman co-starred with Kevin Bacon in Sleepers.

This is awesome.

2007-01-17T10:56:00.000-08:00

Race relations

"The Italians didn't really like China Town."
"Huh. Wonder why that is..."
"They don't really like anything Chinese. Not so much the people really, just like, the food and stuff."
"I think its because they stole their noodles!"

2007-01-03T13:59:00.000-08:00

How to create a winning Resume:

"This is what I meant by "skillz". Specify what applications and specific technical skills you have, i.e. ghosting images, installation/ upgrade of hardrives, etc. Also, you would list qualities that make you a good fit for the work environment: "strong ability to multi task, works well under stressful situations, juggling, glass blowing". Just kidding about those last parts. Unless you are applying as a circus monkey, in that case, by all means. As well as your precision at flinging poop."

2006-09-01T08:55:00.000-07:00

21 THINGS I HATE

Pigeons. Seriously, they are filthy rats with wings.
The people that feed the pigeons in outdoor eating areas. Cause Hey! Wouldn’t we all love a little pigeon shit in our salad? I know I sure do!
People that refuse to acknowledge that they are not a size 2. I think a 10 pound roll hanging over a woman’s pants is really sexy. Raawwr!
Raised trucks and SUV’s. Just wrong on so many levels.
Parents who allow their kids to tease other children because “They're just being kids”
Gum smacking
When I am writing a birthday card and I make a mistake. Someone once told me that God is playing a trick on you when that happens. “Hey Peter watch this! I just made her spell ‘Birtday’!”
Running out of toilet paper at my Mom’s house. The only person that decides that the linen closet down the hall is a better place than under the bathroom sink.
Getting a phone call at work from my boyfriend asking me where something is. HATE. THAT.
People on the bus that do the following: Talk LOUDLY on their cell phones, don’t get out of their seat for the elderly, get all pissy if you accidentally touch them. Its public transit, your right to personal space gets checked at the bus stop.
When some asshat comes up to my desk on their cell phone and reaches for a pen and paper on my desk. Okay, last time I checked this was MY desk.
I hate when fireman and police will turn on their sirens just to get through a red light. Emergencies only, people. So don’t get pissed when I decide to crank call 911
When someone calls and doesn’t leave a message and then calls right back again. GET A CLUE!
Forgetting to turn down the volume on my iPod and shocking the bejebus out of my eardrums. You gotta eeease into the Joni Mitchel.
Dishes in the sink that have not been scraped off first. Picking out water logged macaroni and cheese makes doing the dishes so much more fun!
When in a crowded store there will be a line of people swaying around one person that is blocking the isle. Gah! Just say “Excuse me.” already and get on with the show!
If I invite you to my house for dinner, please don’t call at the last minute and cancel or ask if Joe Blow can come along.
Saying something really stupid in front of a group of people you have just met. Like I did last Saturday: “Hey it would be funny if their mascot was a big red sock!” “Actually they're playing the Reds.” “Oh.”
George Dubbya!
I hate that Extreme Makeover show. Really any kind of media that promotes the idea that women need to cosmetically enhance themselves to be beautiful.
Miracle Whip. Barf.

With that, Happy Impeach Bush Day! WOO!

2006-08-31T14:43:00.000-07:00

21 Things That I Love.

I love it when my Grandpa pops off with one of his quirky sayings. My favorite of all time is: “You’re gettin’ so tall we’re gonna have to get you some short shoes!”
Seeing my sister lullaby my niece to sleep for the first time.
Finding money in the laundry. YESS!
Getting to the bus stop just when the bus arrives.
Coming home to find my house cleaned and Chris making dinner. That’s just awesome.
Going “Yard Sale-ing” with my Dad on Saturday mornings and honking at every pedestrian and bike rider we saw. Once we got flipped off by a little boy!
A towel fresh out of the dryer when I get out of the shower
The way that babies smell and are all soft and snuggly
My nephew’s sense of humor. Once he gave me a Christmas present and he said “Here Anni. Maybe its a new boyfriend!” HA. HA.
Seeing my Mom do the “Doo Doo Brown”. She’s a gangsta!
Dancing to the music!
Singing These Boots are Made for Walkin’ at divey karaoke bars
My Grandma’s cabbage rolls.
Racing go-karts with Kayt
I love the sound of my nieces laugh and her mischievous smile
Bar-b-ques on the beach with my friends
Playing Scrabble in Golden Gate Park
I love driving over the Bay Bridge and seeing the bright red “PORT OF SAN FRANCISCO” after a vacation
I love the smell of Gardenias and Christmas at my Grandparent's house
Saturday afternoons at Luigi’s and Basque food at Noriega’s in my home town.
Most of all, I love that I have a great, solid family and friends that love me back. You can’t ask for more than that.

2006-08-11T16:34:00.000-07:00

I have drunk tap water for 24 years and I have not gotten cancer.

At my place of employment I am responsible for supplying a plethora of refreshments for our clients. One of these items happens to be Bottled Water. Guess who gets to lug these 40 pound flats of bottled water to the refrigerator 4 times a day in heels? You guessed it, Yours Truly. Bottled Water and I, we are not friends.

Bottled Water: I AM THE GREATEST! Anni Hispanni, it is you who must supply me to those who bow before me! Only I can quench their thirst! OBEY ME!
Me: Fuck you Bottled Water. You can kiss my ass. You are not the boss of me!

Okay, so this exchange never happened. But I still hate you Bottled Water. I do not understand why people seem to believe that Bottled Water is the only option when it comes to hydration. Whatever happened to settling for good ol’ tap water? I’ll admit, in some places that stuff can taste, well, like ass. I even supply a lovely, economically friendly, Filtered Water dispenser RIGHT NEXT TO THE REFRIGERATOR. I have a sign above it that reads “Please assist _______ in our effort to recycle. Please refill empty bottles with filtered water. Thank You.” Perhaps people have forgotten how to drink from a cup these days?

Real Conversation:

Thirsty McFucktard: Uuuumm…Miss? You seem to be out of Bottled Water.
Me: Oh…It seems that way, doesn’t? Okay well, there’s filtered water next to the fridge.
T McFT: *looks confused and examines the dispenser* Uhhh so I just use a cup then?
Me: YUP! It’s just that simple!

I wonder how these people dress themselves in the morning let alone operate heavy machinery. Plus, he addressed me by “Miss”. His body is in a trunk in my basement with a paper cup shoved up his ass.

Or maybe it is just that we are at risk of nuclear fall out should there be no bottled water in sight.

Real Conversation Part II:

Uptight O’Quenchy: Excuse me! Uuuummm…YOU’RE ALL OUT OF BOTTLED WATER!
Me: Okay calm down. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll call 911. Or you can just drink from the toilet down the hall.

2006-06-08T09:34:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I had the pleasure of introducing Kayt to fresh oysters. When the platter came to our table she looked at me the way that a person typically does when they finally venture to clean out the fridge full of Thanksgiving leftovers-in February. "Have you ever tried a fresh oyster Kayt?" I asked. "Uuuuuh nooooeew..." She replied with the same grimace. "You haven't? Okay, you have to try one!" I encouraged while pouring mignonette over the grey, watery flesh of the oyster.

Me: "SLUUUURP!"
Kayt: "That's disgusting."

A look of euphoria settles over my face as I finish the oyster and Kayt leans over the platter suspiciously. "They look like pools of slimy snot. What do they taste like?" "Like slimy snot. You know, salty and tangy. Slimy snot and ocean water. MMMM." As we finish up our drinks and the last of the Pizza Margherita, two oysters remain on the platter. I offer her one last chance to try an oyster before the bartender clears our plates. "Okay but only this once. But you fix it for me." I have never known Kayt to be a ‘fraidy cat when it comes down to the wire. As I hand over the garnished sea morsel, Kayt looks at the bartender dreadfully making a final request: “Can I have a Coke please? I'm scared." The bartender sets her coke in front of her...

Kayt: "So how do I do it?"
Me: "Tilt your head back, let it slip into your mouth, and don't chew it too much. Definitely don't gag."
Bartender: "Just let it gliiiide down your throat"
Kayt, Me: Muffled laughter
Me: "Yeah Kayt, it's easy. You know the drill."
Kayt: "Okay...So I just suck it right off then?"

We both burst into a fit of laughter. Finally after our amusement dies down, Kayt takes the plunge. Tilting her head back, she gulps down the slippery grey flesh like a pro. With her eye brows raised and her lips positioned slightly downward, Kayt turns to me and says, "That actually wasn't that bad. It was salty." Taking a sip of her Coke she says, "I can't get the taste out of my mouth. Blech."

2005-10-14T14:52:00.000-07:00

I was talking to an instructor who teaches at my facility from time to time about how sad we where that we are in the last week of tomato season. You all know that there is nothing like that first beckon of summer, when you are presented with the sweet, acidic, salty scent of a vine ripe tomato and the silky skin tingles your hands with its fine, dusty hairs. I have so many memories of my grandparents kitchen being flooded with Beefsteak tomatoes and eating them with nearly every meal. To this day my favorite sandwich is plain Beefsteak tomato on Pyrenees Sourdough bread and slathered with Best Foods mayo, salt and pepper. Throw in some ice cold tea and you've got yourself a nice fat stack of summertime.

I love the summer and everything that entails: BBQ's, swimming pools, tan skin, fireworks and a tall cold one to wash it all down. As summer lulls away into autumn, so does the bounty of wonderful produce that comes with it. Soon we will be carving pumpkins and warming ourselves up with a hot bowl of Grandma's signature beef stew. Before we know it, we will awaken abruptly from turkey coma and hop to making tamales and wrapping gifts. The end of summer is just a precursor to the flood of holiday hustle and bustle that all of us hate to love. So today I will sit back, relax and soak up the last warm rays of sunshine, slice up a couple a 'maters and take it all in with a tall cold one.

2005-10-07T13:22:00.000-07:00

If you know anything about me, you already know that there are two things in this world that I love, I mean LOVE: Family and food. Both of the two you must have in your life for survival. Overindulgence in either of the two can lead to death (okay, maybe not death but EXTREME discomfort). Let me begin with my Mother, a truly amazing woman from whom I received my great love for the kitchen. My earliest memories are being by my Mother's side as she prepared meals for our friends and family.

I even have a scar in the middle of my forehead from when I was standing behind her as a toddler while she was taking out a cast iron skillet from the oven and BAM! Behold, My First Kitchen Scar. I suppose this was a test to see if I could handle myself like a pro’ (Obviously Ma’ doesn’t mess around!). After I came out of a coma, she promoted me to sous chef of the household and I was assigned with the prestigious tasks of grating cheese, peeling potatoes, and picking out the June Bugs from the Spanish rice. Most importantly, I learned how she made all the wonderful dishes that came out of her kitchen and have made her famous among friends and family: Chile Verde, Lasagna and Chicken Deván to name a few. The most important thing is that she made them with love and has passed this love on to me. Here's to you Mom, Bon Appétit!