Solvang and Ostriches

Since moving to L.A., I've been hearing about all the really cool things one could do outside of L.A., and a couple weekends ago I got to experience one that I've heard about for quite some time......visit Solvang.


Solvang is a Danish settlement up near Santa Barbara. It has all sorts of old world charm including a windmill, trinket shops, and most importantly Danish Bakeries......nummy, nummy bakeries. There's some excellent grub to be had starting with the giant pretzels (provided you don't ruin it with the accompanying pasteurized processed cheese product). I also got to sample my very first aebleskivers (i.e., Danish pancake balls), which my Scandinavian-descended friends had been telling me about for years. Then there is the Kringle a GIANT pastry that is filled with mazipan goodness (word of warning: it can be somewhat addictive). Of course there are chocolate shops and candy shops and fudge shops.......perhaps it's a good thing I only spent an afternoon there.

Anywho, after having gained 5 kabillion pounds in sweets, I waddled away from town to visit Ostrich Land, an ostrich farm where you can risk life and limb (or finger) to feed the giant birds.


While I slightly exaggerate the risk involved, those fowls are not what you would call warm and fuzzy. They go after their food like a jack-hammer, and they could do some serious damage to anything that gets between them and their food. Just ask my friend whose sunglasses were attacked by one.

After being overwhelmed by the size and lack of manners of the ostriches, I opted to feed the slightly smaller emus. However, they held an intimidation of their own. When you get up close and personal, you can't help but notice the resemblance between these creatures and their ancient ancestors.........the velociraptor.


But I still managed to let them have a little food.........provided they didn't get too close.

Aleigh's Infraction Retraction

*Don't worry I don't get it either.*

Once upon a time, exactly a month ago, I blogged about a thing called Silent Football. I find myself now needing to retract that blog entry. The first rule of Silent Football is you do not talk about Silent Football. No wait, sorry, that's Fight Club.

Anywho Silent Football can't possibly exist. At the risk of sounding like the Church Lady, Silent Football is neither silent nor involves a football, discuss. If such a thing did exist, the rules I laid out would mean that the game would always be evolving and changing. So if two players played together in a game and then played in different games with different people for more than 6 games, and they played together again in another game, there is a high probability they would think the other is playing a game very different from the Silent Football that he/she plays. So then whose game is the real Silent Football and whose is the impostor? Fortunately it doesn't matter because Silent Football doesn't exist.

Nevermind the wikipedia articles, Facebook fan pages, how to websites, and t-shirt sites that all make reference to this clearly farcical game. Have you ever heard of Snipe hunting? It's the same concept (except you won't end up crawling around the woods and making silly whistling calls in the vain attempt of enticing a creature you've never heard of before into a burlap bag). It's just a giant inside joke; a made up concept for a game, that would never happen in real life.........unless someone looked up the rules and decided to start a game. Well, than I suppose it might stop being joke and then might actually be a game. And theoretically somewhere out there in the universe that is a scenario that is being played out in some alternate reality where Silent Football does exist.

But now I'm just being silly. There's no such thing as Silent Football......or is there?

Cry Baby

I hate crying. I really do, so much so I will often laugh when tears would seem more appropriate. Even when I once fell down a flight of stairs--severely injuring my foot along the way--I burst out laughing at the end of it. I can't really explain why I have such an aversion to crying. Perhaps it's because I grew up between two brothers, and a scout troop. Perhaps it's because of that time the family cat scratched me across the face for crying (she was named Princess for a reason). Whatever the reason, I really hate crying.

So I find it completely and utterly frustrating that as a female, I have this tendency to cry at N-O-T-H-I-N-G. What is that all about? Crying at nothing? I could understand if I had lost a limb, been in an accident, had a bad break-up or witnessed a crime. I'm even willing to accept the fact I will sometimes cry at really happy emotional moments like weddings, but crying at nothing is stupid. Just plain dumb, but that doesn't stop me from doing it.

Take today for instance. Nothing was out of the ordinary. I got plenty of sleep. My workload was standard, but for no reason whatsoever the waterworks flipped on. Since I'm not big fan of crying, particularly in public, I'd duck into the bathroom to sob uncontrollably for brief periods of time. But really, is that necessary? Why can't I just reason the tears away? Why can't I simply explain to myself that crying about nothing is a exercise in futility and should not be done. Why? Why? Why? I really despise that the only excuse I can wrangle at all is that I'm a girl, but that just sounds like a cop out. So here I sit crying at nothing, and there's not a darn thing I can do about it. Sometimes I really hate being a girl. :(

Nemesis: The Lexus

This is my parking spot. It is easily identifiable by the dual exhaust burns up against the wall. While there is no sign with my name or even a number painted on the ground, it is my parking spot. I choose this spot on the 5th floor of the parking garage on my first day of work nearly a year ago, and it has been mine ever since......that is until "it" showed up.


One day last summer I drove up, and there "it" was -- a smug, black Lexus occupying my real estate. I was perturbed, but I gave "it" the benefit of the doubt. "It" obviously has accidentally parked in my spot not knowing the spot was already spoken for. But then it happened again and again. Each day I became more indignant. Obviously this egomaniac believed my lowly beat-up Honda Civic to be less important than his luxury Lexus. Whatever, it's not that special, it's got 4-wheels and engine just like mine. Just because my little car didn't have air conditioning or power steering, the bumper was falling off, and the paint was peeling away didn't mean it was any less deserving of the spot.

I soon discovered that Mr. Lexus and myself usually arrived at roughly the same time; it wasn't uncommon for one of us to be directly ahead of the other pulling into the garage. Since I really did not like that "my spot" had become first come, first serve, I would do my best to arrive just a few minutes early to protect my turf.

This went on for months. One of us would pull into the spot and the other would choose a spot, no closer than two spots away. I was generally in a hurry, so I'd jump out of my car and run into work, and Mr. Lexus would stay in his car for some inexplicable reason, so we never had words until that one day.

I had pulled into "my spot," jumped out of car, and went to my trunk to retrieve my daily allotment of Diet Cokes (yes, I have a problem). Just as I was turning to head to the elevator, there was Mr. Lexus waving at me.

I had envisioned a real, class-A jerk, who's ego was so huge you'd wonder how he could actually make it through a door. But here stood before me a shy and slightly timid, middle-aged, Asian man. He introduced himself as James, and made a little joke about how we always seem to be going for the same parking spot. We chatted on our way up our respective offices, and then parted ways.

While things haven't changed that much--he still parks in my spot--gone are the feelings of animosity. How could I possibly stay angry with a such a nice person over something as silly as a parking spot? However, I still consider his Lexus my nemesis, because well, it's kind of fun to have a nemesis. :)