Arianna Georgi

Sometimes when my friends tell me stories about their babies, the only way I can relate is to bring up my cats. “I just feel a little worried about leaving him,” someone will tell me about their anxiety over their upcoming trip to Cabo and their three month old. “I know exactly how you feel,” I’ll say, “when we got Hot Dog I left like a week later to go to Park City and I was really stressed the whole time.”
I always throw in “not that I am comparing your baby to my cat” because that is the polite thing to say, but really that is exactly what I am doing. I have compared my friend’s babies to my cats when we discuss feeding, discipline, and funny habits like chewing on blankets. “It’s so funny how she has her own little personality already,” my friend will tell me about her newborn. “I know Charlie had a very definite little character like that from the time he was a kitten.”
All of this may just be a symptom of my much larger and more worrying descent into a full-on crazy cat lady, but I think it has more to do with the fact that things are changing and it’s hard for me not to get left behind. In the last three years almost all of my friends, mostly without consenting me first, have decided to take the headlong plunge into motherhood. I’m at least five years out from even considering the thought. Actually my most frequent reoccurring nightmare is that I discover I’m five months pregnant and had no idea. Panicked because I have been drinking and (occasionally, when I am drunk, smoking) and eating sushi I rush to the doctor but nothing can be done. At the end of the dream I give birth to a dog. I don’t even like dogs.
So lately I am Peter Pan tapping on the windows of my Wendy friends. “Let’s go do keg stands,” I yell, “let’s spend 150 dollars on a meal at that new restaurant downtown.” They smile at me sadly and shut the shades. The only thing I can even come close to comparing the responsibility of having a newborn to is having a cat. And one time I got drunk and accidentally locked the cat in my bathroom all right. I am pretty sure you can’t do that a baby.
And that’s just it. I have no idea what the hell I am talking about and not even a basic understanding of why my friends are so tired all the time, or why they suddenly want to talk more about poop then beer. But I am trying. It’s because I know my friends are worth fighting to relate to, even if the whole motherhood thing is beyond me now. One day when I have thirty cats, I’ll expect the same in return from them.

My marathon finishing blanket:

Tags: Unintentional Cat Toys

Over the weekend my friends and I took a trip to Arizona.  One of things we did, in addition to drink many beers and attempt/fail many times to sing Alicia Keyes’ part in “Empire State of Mind” very loudly in the car, was take a trip to Sedona.  Sedona is very beautiful, but it is also is considered to be a “spiritual vortex” which means it is totally full of weirdos.   Walking down from a hill we hiked up (side note: not a good idea the day before a marathon) we were passed by a woman in full Native American dress leading a bride and groom up (side note: the bride was not even wearing tennis shoes).  We were also accosted by several young men who tried to ask if we “felt the energy man.”

We went to get coffee in town and ended up at what was the world’s creepiest strip mall.  A young girl on a bike circled the coffee store endlessly, saying each time she passed us “catch me if you can.”  An old woman came rushing out of a restaurant and then stood on the sidewalk.  When we passed, she stopped us and said, “I don’t know how to get back in…. they just told me everyone was outside and so I came, and now I can’t get back.”  Everything was adding up but luckily I watch a ton of movies so I saw the very clear writing on the wall.  We were definitely about to be serial killed/trapped in some sort of bizzaro-world for all eternity.   I got us the hell out of Sedona (and I am pretty sure I did so right before we were scheduled to hit an old vagrant in a rain coat and then all make a pact to never speak of it again until next summer). 

Since you may not have friends as awesome as me, I decided to put a list up, for the public good so everyone knows what to watch out for to avoid being serial killed/trapped in a vortex.  They are the Three Cs of Serial Killing Danger.  Enjoy and BEWARE!

1.        Creepy children:  You can tell creepy children from regular children because they are creepy.  They are most likely pale, although if your car has broken down in the middle of nowhere and you are about to be serial killed by mutant hillbillies, they may might be tan.  The say creepy things like “you shouldn’t have come here” or even just “play with me.”  They are also sometimes ghosts.  Creepy children are a good early warning sign that serial killing may occur.  If you see one, get the heck out.

2.       Cabins:  Cabins can be fun and just the mere presence of a cabin doesn’t always indicate you will be serial killed.  Unfortunately, 99% of the time it does.  And if you are headed to a cabin for the weekend in the middle of the woods with a bunch of your young promiscuous friends it definitely does.  Beware anyone that suggests a weekend to a cabin and if you do end up going to one, do not, for any reason, allow anyone in your car to utter anything like “this is going to be a weekend we’ll never forget.” 

3.       Car Trouble:  You don’t necessarily have to worry every time you get a flat tire, but if this flat tire occurs when you are in the middle of nowhere, or during a lightning storm, or just after you have had an encounter with a creepy child it’s bad news.  Pretty much when you get out your car you are very likely to have something either jump out of the woods at you or attack you.  Even if you manage to get the tire fixed, you are very likely to get back in your car and start it up only to have someone in your backseat.  There’s not much I can tell you that can save you in this situation.

Tags: creepy kids, Sedona, serial killers

Because I like setting myself up for situations that resemble lame sitcom plots and because I love animals, I got suckered into being Santa Claus this Saturday at my local Petco.  This means that from 1:30-4 pm or so I will be dressed in a beard, pretending to be jolly, and taking photos with people’s pets.  And since my office Christmas party/Booze Cruise is tomorrow (and since I plan on introducing everyone involved to the West Coast Margarita) I will also probably be trying my best to avoid vomiting on chihuahuas and regretting being born for most of the time.  I am doing this because no one else would, five dollars of every photo go to Rescue House, and I’ve always wanted to dress as Santa and bring people joy (that last part is a lie).  Seriously though, come down and torment me.  I encourage you to do it.   Email me if you need more info.

I will be the Santa that smells like stale West Coast Margarita.  Expect a blog about the experience to follow.

Tags: Cats, Petco, rescue house, Santa, Worst Hangover Ever

The other day, in the car, I heard a song that I first thought was probably an advertisement for Jose Curevo (although there was an awful lot of talking about panties going on for a commercial). Basically some rapper came on and said that he had a new song, as a lady I was likely to find it very exciting. He also said he was going to tell me about a new drink. What sort of new drink? The West Coast Margarita. The West Coast Margarita isn’t really a margarita as much as it is “a little Jose Cuervo and a little Sprite” (Yum???). Anyway I was intrigued and (as the song suggested I would be) excited, so I decided to do a little more research.

The creator of the West Coast Margarita and its delightful theme song is a rapper named Young Dumm. I was able to find out a lot more about him on his myspace page like the origin of his interesting/insulting nickname (I put his full bio below, thank me later). Anyway, according to his info “he acquired his name from a neighborhood confidant after being constantly told he was doing “too much” referring to his seemingly increasing run-ins with the law.” Also he was really dumb (it doesn’t say that but I am going to assume it). The bio goes on to say that Young Dum, or DummDumm (for short?), is a pretty badass guy. He “endured substantial obstacles throughout his young adult life before he was taken back to prison on a parole violation for 7 months for being shot 7times in early 2003.” I was unaware that you can go to prison for being shot, but I guess you can and that sucks. Can you imagine getting shot 7 times, and then getting thrown in jail for it? Our legal system is pretty messed up. YoungDumm is also from “the infamous streets ” of Compton, which “makes him a man of the streets” but he refuses to let “these life etrocities hinder him.” I find this admirable and plan to use the word “etrocities” in a Scrabble game soon.

Young Dumm must have a cousin or something at the local San Diego Hip Hop station since his profile only has about 16,000 views (mine has been viewed 32,000 because of an unfortunate “Cool New People” incident when I first set it up) and the song West Coast Margarita has only been played 502 times ( two of them were me). His Myspace encourages you to call him “Direct.” I called because I wanted him to justify his “gangsterism” even though his myspace bio said he that he would not do that (I’m a rebel). When I called some guy picked up and yelled “What up? WHAT UP? WHO THE HELL IS THIS?” I assume it was DummDumm but he honestly sounded terrifying and all that stuff about him being shot and knowing the codes and violence of the streets made me nervous so I hung up on him.

So hopefully I have done a good job of spreading the word about the West Coast Margarita and the music of Young Dumm. I personally plan on getting trashed drinking Yingling and Old Bay (Baltimore Margarita) later on tonight. If I get drunk enough I may even call Young Dumm again. I want to know more about why he chose Sprite as his mixer of choice (why not squirt?) and the streets.

The Bio of Young Dumm

In many ways the ideal West Coast rapper, Young Dumm endured substantial obstacles throughout his young adult life before he was taken back to prison on a parole violation for 7 months for being shot 7times in early 2003. One might expect an up and coming rapper to capitalize off the attempt on his life but Young Dumm wants his message to be clear “There’s no amount of money that will bring you back from death?. He continues, “I wasn’t in a coma and I didn’t walk out of the hospital. I rolled out of there in a wheelchair thanking God I was still alive”. The product of an unstable home and gang culture in Compton California makes him a man of the streets, intimately familiar with its codes and its violence. Born and raised on the infamous streets of Compton California he lived what many rappers write about but have never experienced. Young Dumm or Dumm Dumm will tell you that he acquired his name from a neighborhood confidant after being constantly told he was doing “too much” referring to his seemingly increasing run-ins with the law. While he openly admits not being proud of the choices that eventually landed him 3 years and 11 months in state correctional facilities he calls reliving these choices through rhyme music therapy. Afterall, It was in Chino state prison where he gave his first concert. “I was on central yard, east side sycamore, 3rd tier. It was Black’s late night which is on Saturday’s. I had the joint rockin”. “I figured if I could have a yard full of criminals from different hoods feeling my flow, I could duplicate that on the outs”, “I would sign me if I were 50 Cent” Little did he know, the following year on February 18, 2003 25 years after his father was shot three times in the head and survived he would suffer the same fate. “It was 1978 when my dad was robbed at gun point by a man dressed as a woman right outside his cocktail lounge. At the time, he was real known for having one of the most popular nightclubs in the Hub City section of Los Angeles”. A survivor by genetics, Young Dumm refuses to let these life etrocities hinder him and wants you to get his story straight from the horses mouth in a fourthcoming DVD, titled State Raised. “I’m an entrepreneur by definition. whether it be a full featured album or a DVD, I’m a walking opportunity. Right now i’m just trying to organize resources to help take advantage of the opportunity”. For those expecting to be pulled into a fabricated world of drug deals gone bad, fictionalized characters, and the lifestyles of Tony Montanna should be forwarned. Young Dumm wants you to party and have a good time hence his popular song, West Coast Margarita where he introduces a new drink in his smooth melodic Compton dialect over a Lil Rob beat. “I’m not here to justify my Gangsterism. I have nothing to prove. I’m not trying to get in this game and go ass out backwards by catching cases and gaining more enemies than I already have. Exploiting my story is one thing but living it is another. Being able to share my music and story with the masses is a blessing. For me there’s no coming back, life or death. shit, one more strike and i’m out all day with no get back. I guess a hard head makes a soft ass.”

Tags: Rap Music, West Coast Margaritas, Young Dumm