Shibby!

I tried to post this on Thursday but WordPress was down, so here is Cellz’s birthday post, 3 days late.

On this day 23 years ago, the world was joined by the one and only Marcella (aka Marzipan, Mah, Celery, Yierba McFumador, Cellz, Cella Bunz, Bunz, Burzilla, Chicken Tikki Marcella, etc)! Needless to say, today is a cause for celebration – the kind with boob cakes.

She is the Salt to my Pepa, the Jesse to my Chester, the Yierba McFumador to my Juanny Fumayierba, the Odette to my Vereena. Probably most importantly, she is my sister in impudence.

So happy birthday, my darling girl! You are a forest fire.

Remember the time….

this mannequin looked just like me? My friend Dan and his mom were at a flea market in Santa Barbara a few years ago and both stopped dead when they saw this because they each independently thought it looked like me. I’d forgotten about it and just found it and it scared me shitless again.

Of course I’d never wear my hair like that, but otherwise it’s pretty creepy. Just like the Elaine mannequin on Seinfeld. Or maybe instead of being given birth to, I’m really like a character in the 80s movie “Mannequin” and came to life in a department store one night.

Exercise has its rewards

Julia and I went on a long powerwalk along the ocean at Crissy Fields and under the Golden Gate Bridge the other day. On our way back to the bus, we came across a 6-pack of Becks, with 5 unopened bottles.

I will now exercise every day and hope for the same outcome. Maybe even a bottle of champers will appear…?

Triumph

Guess what this is?

The cops writing a ticket for the asshole owner of this car. Why are they doing this? Because from 10am until 3:30pm when the owner finally returned and drove away, their car alarm went off like clockwork every 10 minutes as the bus passed. It happens to be right across the street from my apartment. It also happens to be the loudest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. Finally, it happens to be FUCKING SUNDAY, my – and everyone else’s – last cherished day of freedom before starting another work week. This would not stand, so I called the SFPD. The dispatcher commiserated with me and sent a police unit right away.

Today I had planned to revel in a silent, foggy Sunday with some yoga, tea, writing and reading. None of those things happened because of this car. Fuck you, owner of this car. I spent today in an unpenetrable bad mood because of you.

I felt so triumphant and justified when I saw the above scene. The cops spent quite a bit of time there, trying out different things to see what set it off as they happily wrote a ticket.

PEACEFUL SUNDAYS WILL PREVAIL.

Bloody rippa

Just around a year ago, I was back in Australia for about a week with Lucas on the Death Cab tour. I’m missing it hardcore today, due to a crippling craving for an Aussie specialty dessert that has not been in my life for way too long.

I would do unprintable things for a fucking lamington and a cuppa (Billy tea is my favorite) right now. Lamingtons, how I miss you. You’re so delicious, fluffy, light and beautiful. Why hasn’t America discovered you yet? I love you.

In fantastic Aussie news, Kylie is coming out with a new fragrance called “Sweet Darling” and I could not be more excited, obvs! I think I will have to start begging the two lovely gentlemen who picked up her first fragrance for me to make a follow-up mission.

Oh, Oztraylyans. Is there anything you can’t do, besides pronounce the letter “R”? I don’t think so.