Three days in Santa Barbara
31 May 2005 at 2:55 pm

It didn't take long before I realized that the entire weekend would be approximately two hours behind schedule. First, we woke up late. Then we had too many errands to run, the only crucial errand -- changing the oil -- never getting accomplished (mostly because it wasn't a proper use of vacation time). We left the city with two cups of coffee, one cinnamon twist, and one danish. And so began the Weekend of Gluttony.

We drove through central California making note of all the places we should return to: Great America, the indoor Go-Kart track, the mini golf course (both Aaron and I are twelve-year-old boys at heart). We also made note of all the places no one should ever set foot in: Salinas, Gonzales, and that one town with the gas station that employed the single largest man I have ever seen in my entire life who took six minutes to give me 78 cents in change. Gaviota has a population of 94 people.

The last hour of driving is always the worst. There's nothing -- no services, no rest stops, just blah beige or gross green (depending on whether or not you're wearing sunglasses) -- for several miles. I've run out of gas in that stretch of no-man's land so I always fill up in San Luis Obisbo to ensure it doesn't happen again.

It was six when we turned off the Patterson exit to Sanam's house, three hours after the ETA I'd given Sanam the day before. We knocked on the door to have a boy I can only describe as Puck-esque (Shakespeare, not Bunim-Murray) have me doubt my memory of Sanam's front door. It was in fact Sanam's house and she was too much of a lazy-ass to get off her computer to get the door and sent her first houseguest of the weekend to invite me in.

Fastforward several hours and we're at a barbecue celebrating the joint birthday bash of Hasan the Metrosexual and Paul the Stoner, two of my friends from my first ill-fated year of college. Aaron and I picked up some energy drinks and some Newcastle to get through the evening and spent it keeping Damien away from the food table and keeping drunk people away from the, if you were a girl, "PUPPPEEEEEEEEE!" and if you were a guy, "Dude, it's a dog." I was reminded of a time when I used to be fun but am now a cynical, bitchy wallflower. Well, I was always a cynical, bitchy wallflower, but I used to be better at hiding it.

We went to brunch on Sunday at Little Black Sambo's, the racist joint, and had eggs and hashbrowns amidst a sea of bleach-blonde hair and orange-tinted skin. I became a tourist attraction as people pointed at me and asked, "How is her skin so white? Does she not spent the requisite hour in a tanning bed every day?" I was attacked no less than four times by maniacal girls attempting to throw hydrogen peroxide on my illustrious (and, for the first time in four years, naturally-colored) brown hair. We attempted to shop on State St but after an hour of dragging ourselves from overpriced shop to ridiculously overpriced boutique in sweltering (for a San Franciscan) heat, we were pooped. My only regret is that we didn't stop for Slurpees on the way home.

I had promised on behalf of Aaron a home-cooked meal for anyone who wanted one as a thanks for letting us pretend to be socialites for the weekend. We had a total of nine people to cook for, so after approximately two thousand trips to two different grocery stores and Kmart for cooking supplies (they didn't even have measuring spoons in their kitchen) Aaron prepared seared ahi with mango salsa, penne alfredo with walnuts and mushrooms, and flourless chocolate cake with caramel sauce and ice cream and fresh whipped cream. I think we can safely assume that we managed to put everyone into a food coma from which I, personally, am still recovering. Anyone who was not there? TOTALLY missed out.

I had to have Aaron (he of the fastest metabolism ever) roll me out of bed on Monday morning so that we could go eat chicken parmigiano sandwiches and barbecue chicken calzones for breakfast. Sanam and I attempted to shop at Ross, to no avail (I'm still having a really difficult time spending money), and then we went pack to the pad to pack up and say goodbye. And then we did. We stopped in IV to say hello and goodbye to ex-roommate bitch Sarah and rode off into the sunset.

Seven hours and two tummies full of In-n-Out later, I dragged our suitcases and myself back into the apartment while Aaron spent an hour looking for parking and was greeted with stale cigarette smoke and moldy dishes. Vacation, you really are all I ever wanted.

Total money spent: $350
Total calories consumed: approx. 30,000 each
Number of cigarettes smoked: approx. 50 each

If this weekend is any indication, I am going to graduate from UCSB $10,000 in debt, 100 pounds heavier, and one lung lighter.

0 comments

mod l post-mod

|

New
Old
Profile
Notes
Extras
Contact
Image
Host
Trackback

About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.