06.04.12

Monday Dare: How much do new teeth cost?

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Just roll with it.

Being on an airplane is exactly like being in your own home except that there are more strangers milling around. Also, if you step out of your house, it’ll probably be okay, but if you step out of a plane, there’s a high likelihood you’re going to die. Another difference is that most houses don’t have wheels. Or wings. Unless you live in a trailer, but even then, no wings. I guess what I’m trying to say here is that being in your own home and being on a plane are two completely different experiences.

You heard it here first.

I read somewhere that if you veer even one degree off your path each day, before you know it, you’ll be going in the opposite direction. Yesterday, the first degree started with my toothbrush.

I meant to keep a toothbrush in my carry-on instead of packing it in the checked luggage so I could use it during the flight. I value excellent dental hygiene and brush after every meal. Sometimes, I brush my teeth because, fuck it, it’s fun. Too cheap to buy an extra toothbrush at the airport because they cost like 50 goddamn dollars, I convinced myself that it would probably cost less to buy a new set of teeth rather than spend that kind of cash on a toothbrush for one or two uses. Plus, the airport only had the cheap kind where all the bristles are the same height and the handle doesn’t even have rubber grip strips to ensure a satisfactory brushing experience. I’m not trying to be elitist or anything, but my mouth is accustomed to the gentle soothing vibrations of a Sonicare.

Since I felt like such a failure already, I decided not to do any items on my In-flight Task List. Instead, I spent a good two hours memorizing the lyrics to Snoop Dogg’s Lodi Dodi. The plane didn’t have internet, so I couldn’t look up the lyrics. Instead, I had to painstakingly record each word into a little notebook as I heard it. Here’s the thing: Rappers tend to rap faster than I can write, so I would catch a few words before Snoop outpaced me. I would then have to reset the song back to the beginning. In this way, I could double-check my progress and catch a few more words at the end. Rinse. Repeat.

The flight from LA to Frankfurt is 10 hours and 10 minutes. Since it took me nearly 2 hours to transcribe the song, I devoted roughly 20% of my flight to this endeavor.

Do I regret it? Not really.

A lot of people use their time, energy, and dedication to better themselves. Some go to college, others learn a skilled trade. As for me, I’m going to pretty much blow the lid off any karaoke bar I step into for the rest of my life.

I just want to have a normal trip like a normal person. Shit always happens and it makes me think that either I was really bad in another lifetime as a dog or a snake and I’m paying for it now (if I were Hindu), or maybe I’ve done something horrible in this lifetime to warrant such bad luck (karmic retribution), or maybe my grandfather or his father did something so bad that it traveled down the lineage to me (long distance karmic retribution), or maybe the devil is angry because I won’t give him my soul (Satanic-ism). I’m not sure I got all the belief systems/punishment combos correct or if Satanic-ism is even a real thing. All I’m trying to tell you is that I have Bad Vacation-ism.

Instead of letting the little things get under my skin, I’m going to stay focused on what’s most important this week: Making sure Cal has the time of her life. BAM. I’m such a good mom.Has anything funny/weird/disastrous happened to you while traveling?

P.S. Thank you so much for the travel tips last week. Y’all are beyond dope when it comes to steering me in the right direction

I NEED TO PICK A PEN NAME. AND I’M LETTING YOU DECIDE.

I’m about to burst because I want to tell you what it’s for, so I’ll let you know as soon as I can. In the meantime, I’d love for you to weigh in: Sha-Nasty (part of the name I would have chosen had I been a rap star), or Flo-Rish (I think this one is pretty self-explanatory).

“Like” the Flourish in Progress Facebook page to get the first word when I announce the site. I also post original content (pictures + thug life thoughts). (UPDATE 6/7: Just announced the site on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page.)

P.P.S. I couldn’t pick just ONE winner for the journal giveaway, so I picked TWO instead. Cindy Kang and James Taipale, please email me at flourishinprogress at gmail dot com with your address.

image via pinterest (Queensland Rail train etiquette parody poster)

June 4, 2012
05.28.12

Monday Dare (and giveaway!): Rich People Ambitions

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Get outta here

As a kid, I wanted to lead the life of the rich, but not the Richie Rich kind of wealth. A robot maid and an amusement park in the backyard would have helped my popularity at school, but as the daughter of a mechanic and a stay-at-home mom, I knew I had to Keep It Real and bring it down a notch. I decided my two Rich Indicators would be a Marithe+Francoise Girbaud shirt and a trip to Europe.

Surprisingly, the first goal turned out to be easy. During after-school pickup one day, I pointed to a few kids who were already styling in Girbaud gear, and BAM, just a week later, I was the proud owner of not one, but TWO Girbaud items- a sweatshirt and a t-shirt. Turns out, both were conterfeits that my mom had picked up at a swap meet, but I still wore them around. Every day. Proudly.

When I broached the subject of Europe at the dinner table, my parents didn’t say “no” immediately. I took this as a promising sign. Instead, they insisted that I get specific about which country I wanted to visit. I picked Italy because my teacher, Mrs. Moulton, made such a big to-do about it being shaped like a boot. Her hype twisted my tiny little brain into believing that Italy was THE place to go.

For weeks, I was a one-person Italian Vacation Campaign. I sent away for free brochures and looked up facts about the country in the Britannica-wannabe encyclopedia from Sam’s Club that I got as a gift one Christmas.

I refused to eat Domino’s pizza or canned SpaghettiO’s because I didn’t want to dirty my palate with imitations when I knew the real thing was awaiting me.

After two months of looking through brochures that I had painstakingly highlighted and listening to me recite the Italian national anthem, Il Canto degli Italiani, my parents shattered my dream. “It wasn’t in the budget this year,” they said, but they wanted to make it up to me by going to a place that was almost as good as the real thing.

I closed my eyes during the car ride because I wanted the experience of Almost Italy to hit me all at once. Twenty minutes later, I heard the engine shut off, and my mother gingerly guided me out of the car.

We were in front of an Olive Garden.

Maybe this is where I’m supposed to tell you that it was a big disappointment and that I filed for legal emancipation soon afterwards. Just the opposite. That place was fucking magical. I had never been to Olive Garden before, and when they brought out the chilled plates for the salad, I nearly died. It was the gold standard for good living for the rest of my pre-adult years. I even celebrated my Sweet Sixteenth birthday at OG with my family.

Cal is now the same age I was when I first experienced high living, and I want to pass it on. Unfortunately, I spoiled her, and she’s already familiar with the unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks.

So I’ve decided to take her to Europe for several weeks instead. We leave this week for multiple stops in Germany and then Paris. Cal has diligently been looking up practical German phrases and working her French Rosetta Stone like a boss. I only know two German words- Volkswagen and Wienerschnitzel. The only thing I know how to say in French is “Why is the butter so expensive?” If Cal and I get separated, I’m fucked.

I would be grateful for your guidance. If you have any tips on how to travel smart (including jet lag tips, packing tips, and any other general travel tips), or places around Frankfurt and Paris that are a must-see, please DO share.

GIVEAWAY TIME, Y’ALL

When Dallas of Miro Notebooks first reached out to me, I was all “No thanks, thug, I don’t really do giveaways.” But Dallas sent a handsomely generous package my way, no strings attached. And I fell in love. The notebooks are not only functional, but also beautiful and sleek. And since I can’t keep good shit like this all to myself, I want you to have them. (P.S. The Journal Series is so popular, they are currently sold out. And they are part of the giveaway!)

Just leave a comment below, along with your travel tip, and you’ll be entered into the giveaway. I’ll announce the winner in next week’s Monday Dare.
Want to get the latest word on my European trip debacle? I’ll be posting updates on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page. “Like” the page and you’ll be the first to know if I end up in a European jail. If they have Internet access in jail. And they let me keep my phone.
first image via pinterest
May 28, 2012