Bitter British Breakfast Boot

Ingredients

• Wine
• Cheese
• Pimm's
• French bread
• Fancy organic artisanal cupcakes (2 Yelp $ signs, if you-gnome-sayin)
• 1 dilapidated, grotesque walking boot
• An short-lived but glorious Instagram life in the boot's last appropriate days
  
• A pair of the kindest, sweetest, softest grandma Dr. Scholl's sneakers you can find; please wear them with a dress
• Three days running (if only) around like a madcowdiseasewoman to hunt an apartment
• Hours upon websites upon emails upon wasted time looking for apartments; you'll never get your dignity or innocence back
• The satisfaction of bitchingout standing up for yourself in a 100% warranted way against a broker who dares to go by the first name Gurkan: Good ol' Gurk leaves you waiting 40 minutes in a median of Broadway  at 9 AM on a Saturday morning. (I left! OK, Gurkan?! I wasn't waiting another 20 minutes for you to arrive, Girdle, because you have poor communication skills, Garkofit!)
• One long trip to a Brooklyn apartment that you don't reach because who puts apartments >15 minutes away from any train station. Who. (*Was it Gurko?)
  *No. Regardless, it was the end. Because, in that walk, you (& your roommate in your cellphone) decide that you're done looking for apartments. Only after 3 vigorous days spent solely delving into online apartment databases, meeting Gurkans upon worse Gurkans, finding an apartment without a sink in the bathroom, and venturing upon a 15 minute walk to an apartment you never reach. As you descend further into Crown Heights and wonder if you'll ever see the light of subway again, all reality disappears and subletting suddenly seams sublime. Your thoughts bleed together-- finally-- and the solution becomes conversely clear: September 1st. Just WAIT. 
• (I could've simply put it this way: ) Trying to hunt for a New York City apartment in 3 days on a broken foot right before leaving the country
• 1 box of breakfast cereal because you have to use up your almond milk before going to COSTA RICA
• Speaking of Costa Rica, a random non-profit I've never heard of called Far Corners Community Musical Theatre put on a translated Spanish version of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee this past weekend in Monteverde, Costa Rica. In spirit of organizations that have nothing to do with my boyfriend or why I'm going to Costa Rica, I give you your last ingredient: Confidently mispelled words. Mispelled.        Things I've spelled wrong this week:
• Vission (4 times)
• Monsterously
• Laundry mat 
• Cappicinno/cappacinno
• Happenning
• (just now) Delapidated

Instructions

The title pretty much says it all: Have a great British birthday, wobble on the struggle bus with your Boot, be broadly Bitter about brokers, and buy some Breakfast cereal. ...? Try again:

Three days ago, my foot hurt so bad that I gave up free play tickets to avoid leaving the house again. Two days ago, I officially retired my 3-month boot-- not necessarily because that's a good idea, but because it makes me look homeless. Two nights ago, my heart was pounding so quickly that I thought it might generate electricity to lift my bed into space. Yesterday, I ate a microwaveable meal. Today, I got a new boot. I mean, what do you think this says? Let's talk about stress: Forcing myself through the pain of a thousand warriors in my heel; re-learning how to walk-- in public, too, which is great because I look like a just-born giraffe; individually searching for an apartment as an unaccompanied, small young woman; and rounding out the almost 3 months I haven't seen my boyfriend are, combined, strangely taxing on my uneventful & unemployed daily life. 

Isn't it strange how sometimes having less to do makes you more anxious? You're so concerned about filling every second of your time with grand efforts to have something to do. I was less stressed on tour, not (only) because I was in sunny California, but also because I finally felt free to do the thing I was doing and do it well and just do it. Just... Nike. 

We can't always Nike. I rarely do. But, man, when you finally get to Nike-- without any preoccupations or guilt of not doing something better-- that's the stuff. My birthday was like that-- and I didn't even care that the day after was spent catching up to all the emails & crap I'd avoided on my Nike day! In 3 days, I get to wear my Nikes again, as I fly to Costa Rica to spend totally unplanned days with this kid at the non-profit I've never heard of. He doesn't even have WIFI in his house. 

It doesn't take much to stress you out in this city-- or anywhere, really. Just give yourself a monthly rent, mortgage, kids, clients, or a Netflix queue you feel obliged to take advantage of and you'll be anxious in no time. It's called having a life. Sometimes what's stressing you out boils unnoticed until you actually sit down and try to relax-- only to find you can't. Sometimes it pops up when you think you're sufficiently happy. Ya never know when one of these little bitch stressors will try to get out, or if they'll all boil over! Unbalance your flow! They're stupid little Bitter British Breakfast Boots and, unfortunately, they're like replacing the battery in your laptop: inevitable. Going to Costa Rica helps, but there are other ways.

If not, we're all screwed. Except me.

Here's one way: 

The other day, I put both shoes on for the first time in over 2.5 months and I took a walk down the street. After buying some ankle supports and heel cushions at Duane Reade, I was almost home until I saw Lincoln Center. I don't usually think much of it during the day, but at night it's a palace of chandeliers and fountains, vast glass windows and arched columns. There are many people on the steps, but it's peaceful. Quiet. I've always wanted to see it at night but have somehow missed it, so I hobbled over from across the street. Twenty minutes later, I make it. After months of not walking, I walk up the steps-- I could've ended right there. Yet, I spent time sitting on the edge of the fountain, staring up at the sky, looking out into the city nightlife, taking photos of my two shoed feet. And I could've ended there, too. Then, something purple, blue, and red caught my eye-- there was a free concert going on. Eh. I thought I'd meanderwobble over, just to check it out; there must be some sort of cool booth or giveaway, seeing as there were so many people but these free acts are many times estranged ensembles no one's heard of. However, the deeper I walked into the activity, the more unbelievable it got-- stringed lights, food booths, people picnicking on the ground, a VIP drinks lounge, and the humungous purple, red, and blue-lit white tent swarmed with the happiest of chill people without being in Williamsburg. I sat down, again, and deeply appreciated how lucky I am to be staying here. To be walking. (Ish.) And I could've stopped there! But this is a story so it keeps going. 

I hear a recognizable tune and frantically Google search the free concert schedule: Jose Gonzalez!! What the what! I listen a bit longer, then notice signs of a mass exodus as huge applause begins-- AKA I need to get my giraffe legs the heccckkk out of there. I could've ended here-- You know I didn't. I stopped. I waited. And, yes. He began to play an encore-- his most famous song and also one of my favorite songs ever. I'll admit that I teared up-- because, amongst the samurai swords in my foot & whatever drama occurred that day, I'd actually relaxed. 

I've heard that not everyone has heard of Jose Gonzalez. Remedy that. I've heard that not all people know that an NYC broker shouldn't be charging you a 15% fee and you shouldn't accept higher than 12%. Remember that. I've heard that some people have not yet experienced Pimm's. Drink it. This is a post simply to remind you to stay sane; that the need for your absent air conditioner is almost through; and that, when the chips are down, you can still see the Non-Dog Dog.

LOOK HE'S LOOKING RIGHT AT ME! HOW AM I SO LUCKY.

Guys, it's our first recurring character.

PS: The boot photos that didn't quite make the Instagram cut.

There's an edition of Arthritis Today in there. I read it. 

Fountain failz

Mm. Trendy.

That's from today, when I got another boot. Just another failed elevator selfie.
Or, I guess, just another failed fracture healing. YOLO!

Rocky Road (back to NY): Flavor of the Day

Rocky Road is noted as the "Flavor of the Day" because we currently are experiencing a different flavor of city/state every. single. day. However, there does seem to be a feeling of this "road" back to somewhere at almost all times... Once you leave the West Coast, your life is no longer Coconut Basil Sea Salt. Therefore, I invite you to enjoy the novelty of this Flavor of the Day, though I ask for your patience in event that it remains the Flavor of the Day, at least figuratively, every. single. day. 

Ingredients

• The one tourist attraction that anyone has been remotely interested in since Oregon: Frankenmuth, Michigan. [Now, Frankenmuth is a Bavarian town in Nowhere, Michigan housing the world's largest 365-day-a-year Christmas store to which my extended family vacationed to multiple times. This should tell you something about my family. Now, too, when I say "anyone/interested", I mean "me and one person/she visited alone". We were able to take our always on-the-dot, not-a-tourist-trip 1-hour dinner break after our show there in the downtown area, where I saw some familiar sights from childhood-- like an oversized wedge of cheese in which we took pictures (yes, in) and the outlet malls where my cousin, sister, and I bought matching all-teal outfits.] 

Who EVER would've thought-- LEGITIMATE gluten free options at a hearty German restaurant?

• 1 box of matzoh, 1 bag of raisins, 1 bag of diced walnuts, 1 box of matzoh ball soup, 1 apple, 1 microwave, and cheap wine = Secular Seder at the Super 8 in Saginaw

• 4 days without a phone: These days shouldn't exist. They shouldn't be a problem. They shouldn't matter. They shouldn't be what happens after a swim in the toilet. They shouldn't ruin things. They shouldn't create both mayhem and magic. They should only create magic. They shouldn't be what lands you in Evanston on your day off in Chicago because you have nowhere else to exist without a phone. They totally should bring you to Evanston. You're clearly conflicted about not having a phone for 4 days. Were you happier? Were you healthier? Can you envision a world where shouting can be heard in other states & we all just shout to each other? Do you now have an Otterbox? 
• 3 people with Narcolepsy-- or however many you find to meet at your first planned encounter with anyone else with narcolepsy ever, the 2014 Narcolepsy Network Walkathon in NYC. 

Perhaps manage to get any photo besides the backs of those walking in front of you... Just a thought.

• 1 restaurant that you swear is an obvious parody of/nod to/statement against/(but why??) Chipotle. It's name is sweet green. 

OK, so take a look at this: Those menu boards on your left are typed out the same way with the same font and the same choose your own adventure as the boards at Chipotle. Instead, you choose your SALAD or brown rice/quinoa bowl adventure. OK. And those assembly line workers? Same process as the old Chipottel. Literally, swap every Big Burrito food item out with salad ingredients, and you've got sweet green. But, as caloric and cheesy as Chipotle is, it is all locally sourced and the related buzzwords-- and, if you want to, it's easy to make healthy, hearty choices there! So, sweet green, I love a good salad and perhaps not all of your restaurants look like this and I'm probably making all of this up,  but... chill. 

I like your Gabriel Garcia Marquez quote, though.

• A half of an aisle devoted to maple syrup! Vermont, you are beautiful in more ways than one. The moose candy available for purchase in your Holiday Inn sure contributed. 

The maple syrup would be across from the Elderly Cereal, based on the way this aisle is progressing.

• $2.99  for a margarita. Cinco de Mayo. Dayton, OH. One option for a Mexican restaurant. Heavy on the salt. 
• A Yelp search for a Mexican restaurant (any Mexican restaurant, please) in Dayton, which yielded a sponsored ad result for Taco Bell. The top review read thus: "Ok, it is Taco Bell...why are you reading reviews of Taco Bell?"                 (there is beauty in the breakdown)

"Don't drink margaritas out of a pre-mixed container,"

I told myself. "No," the bartender told me.

• One really shady white lie [... if a white lie is indeed a lie that is only partially untrue, but only minimally untrue and mostly true because lying is physiologically impossible for me] to get you to an airport you're not flying out of.

So close... and yet so far away-- No. I was definitely really that close; I could've walked up those stairs and stand-by sat myself on a plane. So, definitely "so close". Psh, colloquial phrases.

I imagine you want to hear the lie. Continue reading. Yes, this is like the 11pm news.

• One hundred million uses of string   --- that only the brightest, most passionate of minds devoted to string could think of

TSWA '14 = Strung Along
TSWA '14 = balls of string
TSWA '14 = balls of fun
TSWA '14 = BALLER (you'll want to click on this)

• -

This is where this draft ended. One and a half long, hard, and tired months ago. What was it that drew me away from finishing a strongly promising, clearly deeply invested post and leaving it to sit, useless in my Blogger account for ~6.5 weeks? What was it that separated me, yet again, from writing this damn blog? What was it that broke my leg? What? What was it that brought me back here yet again? And, for the love of God, what was that LIE?!?!?!?!

Only one way to find out. Tune in next week (or tomorrow, or something) for 52 Recipes of Disaster: the OHIO EDITION.

(See? Just like the 11pm news. You wait all that time for nothin'.)

Catsup Catch-Up

Ingredients

- 3 wine tastings = ~27 samples of wine 

    (catching up on lost time)

- 1 bartender named Matt at a farm-to-table restaurant who gave us free natural fruit sodas and an all-organic dessert platter as we convinced him to get back into theatre

    (catching up on his life story)

- 3 nights at the Fountain Grove Inn in Sonoma Wine Country to make up for 1 night at the Knight's Inn 

     (the Knight's Inn needs to catch up to life)

- 90 million items on the gluten free menus at Greenleaf's in Ashland, OR

     (world, get on the Pacific Northwest's level: every single one of Portland's crazy unique food trucks had gf options, and that includes the mind-blowing savory PB sandwich, fancy crepe, and weird gourmet french fry trucks)

*CATCH UP! from the airplane from NYC to Denver to Burbank, CA! (difficult to obtain, special order upon request)*

- A group of strangers waiting at the quiet airplane gate at 7am on a Wednesday + the ever-consistent CNN HLN flatscreen TV + Puppy Conan: [Why was CNN showing coverage of the Conan Show? The only answer I care about is PUPPY CONAN. (you must watch all the Puppy Conan links)] Resulting in the entire gate laughing together. About puppies. Especially the Toronto mayor pug. 

- 1 revelation from which these men can't hide: The on-flight movie was Frozen. (Did they know I was coming?!) As soon as the credits started rolling, a rush line to the bathroom flooded the aisles. Who did it mainly include? 30+-year-old men. Duly noted.

Instructions

 1. Take 5 ironic selfies in your onesie.

 2. Get tipsy off of the first few 1/8-filled glasses during your first wine tasting, so you have an excuse for responding to the wine-waiter's photo of his 23-year-old son with an unenthusiastic "he's tall". 

 3. Discover the winery that has sparkling wine produced only for Disney, a chardonnay recognized by National Geographic, and the sparkling cuveé commissioned by the White House for the Reagan-Gorbachev Summit Meetings. So, for all intensive purposes, they ended the Cold War. (and are still cool enough to celebrate rainbows).

 4. Get Tink wasted. JUST KIDDING DON'T: don't do that to anyone: rather, nurse your own glass gently with her and ask her father for her hand wing in marriage.

 5. Remember Matt? Praise his glory. And any salted caramel ice cream that stays your entire body motionless. 

 6. Eat this for dinner. (Thank goodness you gave up chocolate for Lent, right?, because now this is SO HEALTHY!)

 7. Encroach on a intimate private conversation. (They shouldn't have been in a hotel parking lot, that's all I'm saying.)

 8. 3 beds? Necessary? Possible?

 9. Demolish Portland('s food trucks)(' food). Brag about it on various social media. Catch a glimpse of what it feels like to be perfect.

Basically, Imma tell you all you need to know in 5 words: Pacific Northwest be courteously organic. 

That, and I realized everyone should live their life with a simple playwriting lesson in mind, taught to me by my lovely playwriting teacher at Northwestern: once you realize you have a routine, break it. When writing a play, this refers to keeping your readers-- and your characters-- on their toes and not letting the audience get ahead of the play. Breaking the routine, anything settled or "usual" or expected in your play (be it a character's behavior, sequence of events, or even the format), is what moves the story forward. If you feel yourself getting in a rut, find a routine and totally change it. 

I think that's what I just did with my life. I think it's what everyone needs more often than we let ourselves. I think it's cathartic. I think this is getting too serious, but I'm in a Rodeway Inn all night. I was unhappy in my weekly (actually, monthly) routine in NY: it was cold, wet, loud, sad, and never-ending fast. I worked 7 days a week, had consistently inconsistent hot water, took the same trains and busses, and saw the same sights every day because I had no time to do anything different. Then, all of a sudden, I was flying to California in 5 days. However, it's less about the stuff & routine that I left. It's all about the MOUNTAINS.

(cue Alice Ripley? No, absolutely not.)

I've lived 22 years of my life without seeing mountains. Or snow-capped mountains. Or waterfalls coming out of mountains. Or hiking up mountains. Or Shakespearean-themed towns nestled in the mountains. Or the view of mountains from my Super 8. Or hundreds of vineyards in mountains. Or driving through mountains for hours. Or cities so encapsulated by mountains that everyone feels they must wear flannel or modern young lumberjack-wear. Now I've seen all these mountains, and more. In hot places. In chilly places. In organic farm-to-table locally grown non-GMO grass-fed vegetarian sustainable picturesque storybook places. In hick town places. In kind places. In organic can mean more than food places. In how-did-this-trendy-fresh-cafe-get-in-this-nothing-hill-town places. In the Fountaingrove Inn and the Econolodge. And I keep asking myself "how have I lived in this country my whole life and not known what half of it even looked like? How could I have not known these breathtaking sights existed?"

Well, a. you could say "look at a book/are you serious?/did you go to school?/Anna." or b. you could be/have been in the same boat as me. (That's correct, there are only two options.) Needless to say: find yourself in the same locale/situation for long enough? Go. Leave! Go somewhere! Heck, I found myself in the same landscape for 22 years-- and that was spanning 3 different states in 2 different time zones-- and that's a routine in itself. Sure, I've seen Cancun and Niagra Falls and London and even the Berkshires which has mountains but I kinda think they're hills (plus, it's cold there)-- but they aren't tree-lined or red rock, pointy or tofu-shaped, snow-capped or desert MOUNTAINS. Who knew land wasn't flat?

But now we're in Fargo, so everything's flat. 

My mom recently started a brand-new, totally different full-time job. A handful of days ago, my 22-year-old best friend accepted an offer for a PhD program. Last week, my boyfriend bought a plane ticket for a 2-week-trip to Peru a month away. This summer, my dad's going taking off work to go South Carolina for 10 days. After this tour ends in June, I have no idea what I'm doing. Regardless of the reasoning or context behind any of these things, they all make the person happy or excited-- and they keep us on our feet. Yeah, it may involve some tough adapting, training, many years of schooling, money, planning, possible judgement from others, uncertainty, and a little bit of fear. (maybe a butt-ton of fear for the latter example) But dang. Routines be breaking. Life happens. Pacific Northwest be courteously organic. MOUNTAINS happen. 

Love,
Watching Fargo in Fargo

A Fresh Taste/California Rolls Are Preferable to Failure

Remember when each recipe cooked up a disaster?

What about if the entire blog turned out to be it's own recipe for a cataclysmic failure?

Hello, November 11: my last recipe to date. 4 months later, let's approximate that I'd have been at roughly Week #... wait... I'd already skipped about two or three weeks prior before the last two posts... not really quite sure where I'd be right now... so... if YOU'RE okay with this, then I'M okay with this, and it doesn't really matter, and it's almost like it never happened! November 11? Psh, that was yesterday! Feels like yesterday! Wasn't yesterday.

Imma be honest with yous guys: The reason I've avoided posting a recipe for so long is because I was avoiding fear, thus embracing it in every possible way; I was so embarrassed that I hadn't followed my "52 weeks" plan (that I'd so publicly made) that I only fell farther away from achieving it. The more embarrassed I got, the more afraid of this blog I became. After much encouragement from about 3 avid readers, I told my self "SCREW IT!" and...... left this page open on my computer for the past couple of days. 

SO, failed WIFI after too many times calling the front desk, plus a little bit of "Let It Go"-theory, I decided: I don't have to do anything I don't want to do! I can write this blog however I frickin' want! Does this look like a recipe to you so far? Did I perhaps set myself up for the failure I was parodying? Can I do an entire recipe of photos? PICTARECIPE! Can I tell you all about the last 4 months in one she-bang?! As Adele Dazeem would say, blah blah blah "frozen fractals". Oh, and also something about being a mountain queen.

California Rolls Are Preferable to Failure: a 4-month process

Ingredients

November: Your first trip to an Ivy League school. Just so happens to be Homecoming Weekend at Yale. Just so happens to be the Yale/Harvard Homecoming Game. ..... :-| 

Offset with a ridiculous amount of tailgating, you'll be fine.

 

Pre-Christmas: A visual study in what, at one point, you found was funny/necessary enough to include in a future blog post.(I'll humor myself.)

Thanksgiving: Celebration in a doctor's-manion-turned-convent in New Jersey with your best friend since middle school who's spending her year as a Dominican volunteer teaching computer skills to immigrant women, joined by 3 other early-20's female volunteers, creating a lavish organic turkey dinner in said convent SANS NUNS for the ENTIRE WEEKEND aka PARTAY!

Once again, that's nuns. convent. organic vegetables. young women makin' turkey

Christmas: 1 Charlie Brown Christmas Tree... and also 1 miniature Christmas tree that's really trying sooooo so hard to be awesome. Such a valiant effort, truly, that even though it ended up tilting so much more than anyone was comfortable with, you still found it beautiful. 

(+ a photo shoot with your Hulu fireplace ASAP after you decorate)

Transition Into Winter Season: 2-weeks notice at your restaurant hosting job. Deeply sad--you actually said out loud "they're good people", like "good people" was a phrase you said all the time. You just learned it.-- But really, guys: go eat at Spring Natural Kitchen. 

Moving on to work straight across the park, which GEEEE somehow takes you 25 min. longer WHAT FUN!

(Das boot is from a fanc-ay chocolate shop that the owner of the restaurant gave you for your Secret Santa. Those are chocolate covered Cheerios that came on the inside, and the stand is made of dark chocolate. Sickening. Delicious.)

Exceed at Star Gazing in the City: A pensive Keanu Reeves to sit outside your new front desk job at Exceed Physical Culture so you can watch him talk to other people. 

Rockefailure (thank you): 1 picture of noses. You have gained a significant other and meant to take a photo with the Rockefeller Christmas Tree and preferably the entirety of your faces in it, but you didn't. Yet, he has access to organic farm eggs, looks great in flannel, once beatboxed with Lin Manuel Miranda, and this is one of ~3 photos you have together. So: 1 picture of noses.

Gingerbread House: 1 package of Whole Foods gummy bears that inspires a deadly scene of a Purple Bear spaceship invasion on the (beret wearing?) Pink Bears who live in the Forest with the Chocolate Boot (see above). Hours of creation, immense pride, gluten-free graham crackers entirely unnecessary because you actually don't end up eating gingerbread houses... who knew...

I'm including another photo because of the immense pride.

 Christmas: TOO MANY gluten-free SPRITZ COOKIES and by too many I mean ALL OF THE WORLD'S GOODNESS. Hand-made by the impeccable Susan Barnes (whom you all must capture to bake you things). 

*Recipe from Amherst, OH local native superstar Cherl Costelow who landed herself in Taste of Home Magazine this December!! Valid immense pride.

January: One week in NYC without anyone else there, as they grasp the concept that everything stops for the holidays. You flew back because you "just had to" and thought you had to work, which you didn't, & when you finally do work, your gym's walls and ceilings opened & flooded like the Titanic. Polar Vortex, Shmolar Shortex-- you flew home the next day! 

<--- that's a flooded touch screen PC computer. What kind of computer did they replace it with? Thank you.

While Home!: Many things you bake. And that is all. Because you are suddenly depressed, as a certain airline lost your gate-checked bag. That you stupidly put your laptop in. Due to your fury-packing, post-gym-Titanic-flood. 

 

Road Trip: 1 boyfriend's best friend, who naturally feels "3rd wheel" as he joins the road trip from Texas to Ohio to pick you up and have the boyfriend meet your parents... Perhaps you tell your mother his feelings afterwards. Perhaps she creates big good fun out of it & forever, actually, tells you to "say hi to Kyle". 

Late January: Meryl Streep's island. 

...

... 

The Berkshires is a beautiful land of organic farms, real "package" stores, & also 1 of Meryl's abodes, which has AN ISLAND. OK.

February: 5 minutes to see 1 best friend from home in one of the most confusing yet exciting cities in the world-- and you choose to meet in front of The Body Shop. 

Snow Day: 3+ hours spent crafting, 80% of which was organizing your craft box. 

Can you say anal/antisocial/coolestpossiblepasttime? 

WHICH LEADS US TO: The Instructions. 

Instructions

1. Audition for a role as an immediate replacement in a theatre for young audiences tour so you can say that you've been "flown out to California", but mostly so you can spend a week with this beaut: his name is Jacques and he's (an alcoholic) an adorable Shih Tzu. He belongs to the girl you're replacing, though, so don't get too attached. 

2. Take jealousy photos.

Ugh all these scenic, beautiful pictures of beaches and junk and I don't feel like anyone cares, but someone somewhere wants to see them... Is it you? Over there? No? Oh, sorry for disturbing... 

3. Be a sponge. Being an immediate replacement for a show that's been on tour since January means that you get (basically) zero rehearsals means that you watch the same show every performance for a week means that you can take pictures of the set in every venue, but hopefully with kewl kids enjoying it like so.

4. Spend Las Vegas Day getting vegan desserts and eating them on top of a Red Rock Mountain you climbed.

4.5. Find another 5'1 actor named Anna with short hair playing a boy.

5. Eat-all-you-can sushi. No words. $25 of goodness, shock, and somehow, still, lots of ICE CREAM.

6. Plead with gambling dealer to let you take a photo with Tinkerbell, until he retorts "not with that piñata!" #tinkgram 

(6.5 Admit she has a problem.) 

7. Deem Pasadena, CA a really cool place. 

8. Celebrate Pi Day in the only way you can on tour: a cheese covered apple pie, warm out of the oven, in a Bavarian highway dive. 

9. Ask "Why?" Why is the San Francisco Palace Theatre an actual palace? Why does it have grounds, with a swan pond? Why can't I have it?

10. Truly feel, for the first time, excited to return to New York City.

WHAT?! 

Anyways: Now, I'm asking you to do all of these things in order to procure your perfect Less-than-Failure California Rolls. I don't care if flying to California and seeking out that cheese pie costs you a million yen. Quit your jobs, find a subletter, buy a new suitcase, cut your hair, transfer your prescriptions, realize you have a government controlled substance and beg your saintly roommate to shadily pick up your prescription for you and mail it to a random hotel in San Jose, too much information?, & use Instagram more than you ever thought personally possible. Picking up your life-- or at least what you can fit of it in an airplane regulated suitcase-- and saying, "I'm gonna go be a little boy in a blue onesie on the road for 3-ish months, see ya!" is scary. It's new. It's super stressful and has totally screwed up your freakin' prescriptions, need I go into that again. You wear the same outfit almost every day and only now realize how horrible hotel shampoo actually is. However, this greasy new hair texture, consistently bad WIFI, and excess of money spent on power bars is worth it. It's exactly what you needed. You needed to leave New York. Only if to finally come to the conclusion that you wouldn't mind going back.

----- but just for the 11 days you're gonna be there for Easter, srysly, let's be real. IT'S WARM HERE AND I HAVE A TAN AND TODAY I DROVE TO TRADER JOE'S!


*Disclaimer: eating raw or uncooked fish can be harmful to your health. So, drive the extra 1,000+ miles and get some real frickin' fish on the shore of Malibu Beach like we did. Worth it, salmonella.