Today

I am feeling sick and sad that I haven't blogged in an eternity.  But happy that I was featured on one of my favorite blogs!

You heard right, my Christmas tree was posted about on NatTheFatRat's blog here!

Seriously, check it out! :)

Fool Friday: Dead Week

2AM creativity
Is great for blogging (well that's probably subjective and remains to be seen) and very bad for writing papers.  Especially when you start getting creative with grammar rules.

But it turns out to be actually great for doing Econ homework.  Think outside the box?  Check.

Sometimes when you've been sitting in the same cubicle in the library for about 5 hours, you stand up and your legs are shaking from the caffeine you have consumed and the fact that they haven't been moved in quite a while and you just want to collapse in a pile on the floor and simultaneously run a mile so that your legs don't shrivel up and die and you think "Pictures will make this moment better.....  I think."

So you take a crack at it.

And then you decide that this picture is way too hideous and crazy to share with the internets and you decide why cover up your best feature.  Which is most obviously your hair.  

But after 5 hours of bun-ness, you have crazy hair, which, at the moment, you rather like.  And you are rather proud of the fact that you have a thumbs up and at the same time a face that conveys, "help me, I've been trapped in the library for way too long in this weird type of self-imprisonment"  and also you realize that you wear this sweatshirt every time you go to the library late at night, but that is probably because you don't care what you look like when you go to the library for the intention of staying there for more than two hours.

Also, I have now been at the library as it closed (1 AM) which makes me feel really good about myself and also is probably something you have to do in college.  And since I have yet to pull an all-nighter and I never intend to, I will now attempt to sleep for the rest of my life. Or until 830 AM because I have to turn this homework assignment in before 9.

Happy Dead Week Everyone!  Except I still have classes and homework so it's not really dead.  So happy week before finals (IMPOSSIBLE).


And to all a good night.

Friday Night

Sometimes my life is just too cool not to share with the internets.  Like on Friday night when I

changed into pajamas
edited a paper for an hour
watched two episodes of Daria
considered editing a paper some more
got hungry
considered making some food
went to jack in the crack
ate a 99 cent chicken sandwich
ate an oreo shake
thought some more about editing that paper
decided I needed to update my ipod
acquired some music
danced around my apartment for half an hour
wished it was Christmas
spent 10 minutes editing that paper
decided I was done being productive for the evening
watched more episodes of Daria.(I'm afraid to admit to the number)

I mean, what a night, right?  Such is the life.  I take relaxation where I can get it in the final throes of the quarter.
(remember the show Daria from mtv? turns out it's still good)

I mean, if there is one thing that I don't shy away from on my bloggy-blog, it is making myself sound like a fictional character who could not really exist because real people have to not be as weird and incoherent and obsessed with dancing in the mirror as I am.  But that's what I love about you, blog-world of blog-readers that I sometimes pretend are imaginary people who laugh out loud and sometimes give standing ovations to my words, you don't judge me and you listen to me ramble.

Oh if I have a talent, it is the ability to raaaaamble.  Go on and on and on about things that aren't of much import at all.  I mean, why say something with just the facts in a concise way, when you could be saying something with all the opinions in a way that is a billion years longer (again, give or take one billion years)?

Did I ever tell you about the word I meant to invent?  I don't have a name for it, but the word means when something is an example of itself.  Like the paragraph that begins "Oh if I have a talent, it is the ability to raaaaaaamble."  That paragraph is an example of itself.

Dudes, it is good to be silly every once in a while.  Silly like you are dancing in a car by yourself.  Silly like people in commercials about snack foods or car insurance.  Silly like Draco Malfoy.  That kind of silly.  It's good for the soul, you know.  It's like eating a fresh baked cookie, but for your emotions.

This post needs to end before things get worse (as if that were possible).

And because I believe every post deserves a picture:

A gratuitous photo of me dancing in pajamas at approximately 11:43 PM on Friday night.

Of Late

I love sharing the little tidbits that color my life on this blog.  

Por ejemplo:

I had an elaborate dream that was largely in Spanish the other night.  It made me happy that my knowledge of this language has spread to my subconscious.  I love the Spanish language and I love my heritage.  

Because my sink took a billion years (give or take one billion years so that the actual time frame is only six weeks) to arrive at my house, the owners of the Artichoke Cabana decided to switch property management companies and I had to drive down to deliver rent for the month of December.  It was in an area I'd never visited before and I had to parallel park!  Parallel park! 

I managed to do it without freaking out, hitting another car, or hitting the curb.  And then I took a picture that minimized the fact that my car was pretty crooked.  But then I told you that my car was pretty crooked which sort of cancels that out.  But it's the little victories that you take from life, you know?

My little brothers are growing up to be such studs!

Marcus is so funny.  And the cool thing about him is that he doesn't quite realize how cool he is.  

Luc is 15, and that is a can of worms in and of itself.  But he's growing up to be pretty cool too. I love these guys, but mostly they just get annoyed at how much I talk to them in baby voices and try to kiss them on the cheek.  

I don't know what this is or how this picture was taken, but I can't stop looking at it.  It's like seriously hypnotizing me, and I don't understand why.  

The following songs have made me tear up in the last week.  Because it's one of those weeks where a picture of a baby can set me off.  I'm blaming Christmas.  They are MoTab, Christmas, No Doubt, and Joni Mitchell Covers.  

I went to Walmart yesterday and when I came out a car twin had parked next to me:

Lolita was happy about it.  And also my car was the cleaner of the two.  Which gives me an adult point?  Maybe?

Happy Friday, everyone!  Wish me luck in the last two weeks of school for this quarter.  

Me? I Want a Hula Hoop.

Thanksgiving is over.  December starts on Thursday.  I officially have a license to start spreading Christmas cheer.  Dudes, do you even know how awesome Christmas is?  (Do you get annoyed when I call you dudes?)

At my parents' house, Christmas is not really that big of a deal - ON OPPOSITE DAY.  Christmas is the absolute best day of the year if you are a Gamboa.  And I am looking so very very forward to it.  I don't think you can quite possibly comprehend this if you haven't been to our house before during the month of December.  Allow me to illustrate what I am describing:

See these boxes?  All of them, every last one of them, is full of Christmas decorations.  Christmas decorations!  They come in all shapes and sizes.  From the giant ornate ornaments that we hang from our railings to the homemade felt trip to Bethlehem that is a Velcro advent calendar to the creepy robot Rudolph that walks around and scares small children and animals.

Before I left my Mom had started the tedious (but very worth-while!) process of decorating the house!  It's crazy!  She puts up garland with lights in it everywhere and inevitably half of the lights are bad so she has to re-string them throughout the garland.
In process:

I literally walked up to my mom and sang, "Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit's beginning to look a lot like Christmas."  It was a bag of cheese, but I love Christmas.  Hopefully you all don't get sick of me and my holiday spirit.  We're all going to have to wait til I get home after finals to see the finished product.  Unless of course you are any of my readers that live in my house.  In which case, don't have too much fun without me.  Merry Christmas dudes! :)

Wherein A Space Heater and Top Ramen Saved my Life

Happy Belated Thanksgiving Everyone!

I had a great holiday and I hope you all did too.  I will get to that part of the story later.

Yesterday I made the drive back to school.  9 hours, my friends.  It was a record.  Traffic and accidents galore!  I know some people who were stuck in it all until 1 in the morning!  But, as with most things that suck, it was made muuuuch better by the presence of a friend.  And good music.  (I think I'm onto some sort of formula with that one.)

OK, but here's the real part of the story.  My little slice of house (well actually the entire house)  got fumigated during the week that I was home spreading holiday cheer.  And besides that, I was gone for an entire week.  Which means: food.  I couldn't keep anything in my house that would go bad after a week (the milk that we bought three weeks before the break started or fresh fruits and veggies).  AND because of the fumigation, we had to put any food that we did leave in the house inside a plastic bag with a special tying method.  Then that plastic was to be put inside another plastic bag.  Because apparently they've invented fumes that are harmless when inhaled but not when consumed.  And also they kill termites.

Point two about fumigation (I had to start a new paragraph because let's face it, I am easily distracted.): They had to turn the gas and pilot light off in our place for these fumes (apparently they are flammable?)

So back to the drive back to school.  After driving for more than 3 hours, especially where rain and/or traffic is involved, my makeup gets droopy, my emotions get funny, and that spot on my shoulder starts yelling at me to lay down and possibly take a nice warm bath.  But when I got home on Sunday night, my house was an ice box.  Literally an ice box.  And the emergency make-your-house-warm people wouldn't come to my house because this was not an emergency.  Frigidness under exhaustion is apparently not a good enough emergency? I would like to see the people try it.

But I was prepared.  And proud of myself for driving for 9 hours without shedding one tear.  And I was full of optimism.  And my optimism paid off!  Because for some reason our bedroom sink was giving hot water. Like enough hot water for me to wash my hair and face and wish that my body fit in my sink.  Which it certainly wouldn't.  Tender mercies of the Lord, I tell you.  If you're the praying type, I highly recommend saying thanks for hot water next time you get the chance.

It's a little strange how I become so emotionally attached to objects that I feel have saved my life.  I now call him Mr. Kevin.  

As I blow dried my hair, I plugged in the space heater I had borrowed from home because I knew I would be sleeping in the cold if I didn't do something.  And then the combined bedroom light and space heater and blow dryer power blew a fuse!  A fuse!
One call home to Dad and some stumbling around outside my house looking for a fuse box later, I discovered the box behind a bush and was back in business.

Oh but back to the food!  I was starving!  9 hours of driving apparently makes you hungry!  And since I had no fresh foods, it was the top ramen that saved me from certain death.  Because even cereal is no good if you have no milk in which to drown it.

That Top Ramen was oddly comforting.  I think it was the warmth combined with the fact that this is the meal I eat every time I have a stomach flu.  Plus I learned where the fuse box to my house resides.  And it gave me an excise to spend the rest of the night under blankets and without moving more than a foot at a time.

So now I just have to survive three weeks of school.  which includes finals week.   yum.

Photos and Giveaway Info

Dudes.

Remember when I told you that I was hosting a giveaway when I reached 10,000 pageviews and that I would give a hint every time I passed another 1,000 mile marker?

Well, I have since had about another 1,000 pageviews, and you, my dear audience, are clearly needing to be rewarded with a hint as to what my giveaway will be!

And here is that hint:

There is not one giveaway item, but instead of compilation a few pretty cool things, and one truly terrific item.

And with that very vague clue, here are some photos that I have taken lately from my cellular device.  Here we go dudes.

From the random category:

Apparently someone at work has the nasty habit of pulling about 7 toilet protectors out and then just leaving them on the counter by the sink.  Sign says, "Who is doing this?  Please Stop!"

 Just because I go to a world-renown university doesn't mean our TA's don't get lazy.  This is literally the only comment on the whole paper.  

 The fountains this week are blood red in honor of the upcoming rivalry game vs. Cal.  All this fountain does is make me want kool-aid

As I poured my third glass in one hour, I thought, "I probably shouldn't drink alone."

And these are the "I like what I see" photos:

I like this photo, but let's pretend it was taken 100 years ago:

Much better.

 I love these fall colors.  They're pretty much a new discovery for me here.  Because of the whole lack of colors in SoCal thing here.  And anyone who is from New England is scoffing at me right now.  

If I had an architectural obsession on campus what do you think it would be?  Oh yes, it's the most Stanford building there is, Hoover Tower (named after our only presidential alum, not the vacuum).

Happy Weekend, all!  Wish me luck on the drive back to Southern California this weekend!  I have company this time!

Taking A Walk on a Grey November Day

Oh November!  November!  More than two weeks have gone by already in November.  And what have I been doing?  not even appreciating November for all that it's worth.  I should be listening to beautiful songs while snuggling up under a blanket, reading a book, and sipping on hot apple cider.  And I have been wasting it with what - studying?  Studying is nine months of the year, but November?  November only comes once.
And for me November is Christmas.  I can hear you now - the outrage!  "November is not Christmas!  November is fall/the onslaught of winter.  November is Thanksgiving!  November is the leaves on trees that you have taken a picture of.  November is special!  Don't lump November with Christmas.  Christmas needs to but out and realize that it is only one day - December 25th."

Oh, but you don't understand November!  You don't understand Christmas!  You don't understand magic!  Christmas isn't just December 25th.  Christmas is the whole months of November and December.  Christmas is an entire season.

Christmas is the celebration of Christ's birth.  Christmas is magic.  Christmas is family and Thanksgiving and gratitude and yummy food and music and cold weather all rolled up into one.  Christmas is the reason people magically become nicer to strangers and more willing to sing songs to old people they are not related to and to give things to people they love.  Christmas is the reason I'm allowed to get teary-eyed when I watch The Incredibles.  Christmas is the reason each member of my family gets approximately 7.2 times funnier when we are all together.  And why we sound better when we sing together.  Christmas is talking in British accents and wearing tights.  Christmas is knowing what's important and loving it the most.

So yeah, I sort of wish Christmas were 12 months a year.  But I'll settle for 2.  And maybe we just define Christmas differently, you know?

Merry Christmas everyone!

Wax On, Wax Off

The following story might seem like I am trying to induce sympathy, but in reality, I just like telling someone my stories.  Because I am a chronic over-sharer.

Yesterday, I got out the wax. You know, the kind where you remove unwanted hair.  Well, having forgot that our microwave had just minutes before had been an oven (and was still sort of hot), I went about nuking my wax in order to get it hot.  And then I grabbed it by the handle and carried it to the bathroom.  And then when I went to open it in the bathroom, it was explosively hot.  And I can accurately use this word because the wax exploded over my left hand and half my bathroom.  As soon as it was on my hand I wanted to get it off, but I knew touching it would only burn my other hand, so I just shook my hand, confused and in pain.  After about 10 seconds, my hand simply went numb and then I was able to think, and I ran it under cold water.

The orange-y stuff is wax.  The pink stuff is my skin.

I knew I had three things to do, listed in order of importance that they struck me at the time.
1)  Clean the bathroom.
It was halfway covered in wax and I kept stepping in it, slowly accumulating a waxy, tangly wig on the bottom of my foot.  So appetizing.
2)  I had to get all the wax off of my body.
Which mostly included my foot, and also my non-pain hand which had somehow also acquired a significant amount of wax.
3)  Heal my hand, make sure I didn't get it infected.

For about forty-five minutes, I took a fork and scraped the wax off of every linoleum surface in my bathroom.  About every 12 seconds, I would remember my pain-hand which would then scream at me until I doused it in cold water, which gave the most instant, gratifying relief I have ever felt.

After getting extremely frustrated that I was not going to be able to get all the wax out of my bathroom before my roommate got home (Did I mention I was home alone during all of this?), I decided I should at least try and get myself cleaned up.  My clothes also had some wax, so I carefully took them off and got in the shower.
It seemed like such a smart idea at the time, but as soon as I got into the shower I realized all I had done was make it so that either my hand hurt incredibly in the warm water, or that my body revolted in disgust from the cold water.  Oh and now the shower was all sticky.  Like seriously.  So I got out, and immediately started scrubbing the tub, which didn't work.  But my feet were pretty clear of wax, so I figured now was a good time to try and clean the floor again.  Which also didn't work.

Frustrated, and remembering that I was still naked from my shower, I decided clothes might be good.  And holy crap, my hand hurt!  But I couldn't even put anything on it because it was still covered in wax.  Literally, some parts of it were about a quarter inch thick.
Oh the pickle I was in.  Pain, mess, stickyness, inability to touch anything without increasing the mess.

Finally, I thought, I should just take care of my hand.  And so I got a mixing bowl, and filled it with water and half of our ice supply.  And left my hand in it for about two hours until it felt like it was going to fall off while I called my mom, realized she couldn't come help me, and watched the Incredibles.  And cried.  In all of this, I didn't cry until I realized that no one could come fix it for me and that my hand would hurt and my bathroom would be sticky for a couple of days.

At this point, I considered going to the hospital, because oh yeah did I not mention the part where I took my ring off and some wax and skin came off with it?  But then I realized no health insurance plus no money equals no bueno.  And I took about a billion drugs, and explained it all to my roommate when she came home, and took a second shower (which actually helped clean up the shower because the hot water melted the wax off) and decided to go to sleep.

And every 1-2 hours as I slept I would get woken up by the feeling that my hand was on fire.  So I got new paper towels and new ice cubes and thank goodness my roommate brought an ice pack to college.  But it was the crappiest sleep I've ever had.  I practically OD'd on ibuprofen, but I survived the night, decided today was a sick day, and have since done most of the homework I was supposed to do last night.

Oh, also, apparently half a bottle of baby oil will get wax off of your hand, but not off your linoleum floor.  I still don't know hat gets wax off of your linoleum floor.

Oh and my hand is totally fine today.  It's just like I burnt it on a curling iron or something.

Today, in Ramblings

Do you ever feel like time is just slipping away from you? That you are never getting to all the things on your to-do list?  That you finally get through a few things and then all the sudden an entire week has gone by?  That's how I feel right now.  But 'tis the season (for midterms, that is - don't get my hopes up).

Oh, the midterms.  I've done poorly on my fair share of college midterms - I am a firm believer that it is part of the experience (especially here at Stanford where they design the tests so that the average is about 65).  However, I am usually a pretty good judge of how good or bad I did on a test.  I can usually tell that I either bombed it or did reasonably well.
But for every rule, there's an exception, I guess.  Like last week, when I felt fairly confident about my midterm grade, thinking I probably got about an 85.  Well this week I got it back, and let's just say I did below average.  And the average for the class was a 64.  So, yeah, not my proudest moment, and not a great moment for me to get that test back.

Obladi, I guess.  Which is my way of saying life goes on.  But wait, I'm going to suck a little more pity out of you, real quick.

Have I ever told you how much I hate blood?  So much, I hate it.  I don't mind so many other gross things: needles, raw meat, insects (except when I find them in my hair), and I've even touched a human brain (through gloves).
Tonight I sliced my finger open while making a salad.  Sliced.  I could see inside for a second, and then blood filled up all that space.  I just about died, but luckily I remembered not to let blood get in my food.  One butterfly band-aid, one regular band-aid, and about a minute of thinking of my nephew's rendition of "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" while breathing slowly and deeply later, this is what I ended up with:

And as is usual for me, when I don't particularly like the way my day has gone, I decided to give myself some me time.  Which, tonight, included a tall glass of orange juice, a call home to mom, and, you guessed it, repeated viewing of The Incredibles.

But today has been great too.

I took this picture on my phone this afternoon while I was at the bus stop,

and I thought, "I love the fact that this is a sunny afternoon in California .... in November."  I mean, I love that the evenings are starting to get crisp, but I love the sun.  It does wonders for my mood.

I also love the fact that everyone posts things they are grateful for in November.  It makes me think of the things I am grateful for, which are many.

And while I am on the subject, I love that I found time today to do this.  A good blog post does wonders for my mood as well.


And on that note..... I bid you all adieu.

I Wanna Get Witcha & Take Yo Pitcha

Some pictures and their explanations:

 I laugh at this as much as I laugh at my name actually being Gigi G.  Which is to say, me and Chin-Chin are homeslices.

 I'm trying out this new thing called closed-toed shoes.  It's weird that so far I really, really like it.  Mostly because these shoes have no sole so it seems like I have flip-flops on still.

 I get tired of packing up all my stuff just to go to the bathroom when I'm in the library studying for a few hours.  To solve this problem I left this message: "If you steal my laptop, I will haunt you til the day this laptop dies.  Furthermore, this laptop is two years old, and there are much nicer laptops in this library. (although you shouldn't be stealing things in the first place."  So far, it works!

 The effects of 2.5 years of methamphetamine use.  No matter how many times I see this picture, I still think it's hilarious.  Is that terrible?

 I had to tear at the fabric of our nation at work the other day.  And by the fabric of our nation, I mean the butcher paper that this map was made of.

I love my school.  

 This from from back when I was at home.  A snail made of green beans.  I felt kind of weird eating it.

And the housewarming present that my sister got me.  It's a small baking pan in the shape of an elephant.  Yet to be used, but VERY cool.  

That's about it.  I realize this is sort of a cop out of a post, but these pictures have been sitting in my phone waiting to be enjoyed by the outside world.  And I needed to make my last post not the first thing that you see on my blog.  In retrospect, it's a little embarrassing, but I'm not really one to be embarrassed.  Oh, and the song?  Missy Elliott's, "Work It"  Because I think at least two people were genuinely curious.  

Fin.  

Fool Friday: Library Dance Party Edition

I do love me the one-girl dance parties:

And this one REALLY lives up to the FOOL part of the title.

Yes, this is me..... in the library .... after midnight.... today..... after figuring our a really hard part of an econ problem (why is calculus that I learned in high school sooooo hard to remember??!!??) ... and then celebrating when I realized the rest of the assignment was going to be peanuts.  or cake.  which ever analogy works better, because obviously I'm not at full mental capacity at the moment.

The florescent lighting of this cubicle is really doing wonders for my complexion, no?  And a million dollars to whoever can guess what song I'm listening to.  OK, that was a joke, I don't have a million dollars.  But I will write you a haiku and post it here.  And unlike the last three haiku's I've written, the last line will not be "Refrigerator."

Have a great weekend everyone!

The Artichoke Cabana

Okay, so I am so totally in love with a lot of things about my new apartment/duplex/well-actually-it's-a-triplex.  

The things I am not so excited about are the fact that it is only about 400 square feet and also that we don't have a real oven.  Microwave ovens and toaster ovens for us!  Oh and also, we just got our own kitchen sink this last Monday.  As in after we had already lived there for 5 whole weeks!

But the things I like, Oh!  The things I like!  They are many.  Well, this house has a very old people vibe.  Just in some of the details it is old.  In fact, it smells a little bit like old people in our place, and we are doing our best to eradicate that smell in favor of a more youthful aroma.  

But it has hardwood floors and we are keeping them clean and free of schtuffs and you know how empty, clean floor space just does magic to my creativity, brain cleanliness, and everything else.  

Anyways, in no particular order, the schtuffs I love about my new place.  

There is this dandy little lightbulb in one of the closets.  The kind where you pull a little string and a naked lightbulb just illuminates all your clothes and shoes and things you have otherwise, uh... stored in your closet (Because you obviously didn't just shove a whole bunch of boxes of crap in there).  I could only take a very terrible picture of it, but there it is.

And then the bathroom.  The bathroom is this wonderful little thing full of way too many patterns and also, it is very feminine and cheery.  I quite like our bathroom.  It makes me want to take bubble baths and light candles and be pampered a little bit.  Or at least take a nice hot shower.  The shower head is so tall!

These little guys are on all the knobs in the bathroom.  They are so old people and so cute!  They are really old though, and fading, and one of them has been broken and super-glued back together (I think).

Oh and most awesomely, the natural lighting.  I love windows, and I love sunshine.  Yep, I am a SoCal girl (with SAD and everything) and I basically need lots of light and warmth to be happy.

So I pretty much love the fact that most of out light comes from the actual sun.  This picture was actually taken on the day I moved in, and all of my clothes are on the couch in clear trash bags.  So very, very classy, I am.

Dudes!  I love this little place.  My biggest complaint was the fact that we went 5 ENTIRE WEEKS WITHOUT A KITCHEN SINK (don't get me started on my feelings about my property manager at this point), but now that we have one, I feel so good about our tiny whole in the wall.


Oh, and if you're wondering about the title of the post, it's because the name our place shall by known by, from here until forever, is henceforth

The Artichoke Cabana

Which absolutely does not make any sense, but you do whatcha gotta ... or something.  

A 55th College Reunion

If anything in my life has been interesting in the last month, it has been working at the 55th Reunion Party during homecoming weekend at Stanford this last weekend.

I wish I had snuck a few photos, but it didn't occur to me at the time.  I was busy being the picture of professionalism and grace (yeah, right).
But first off, this reunion was at the Sharon Heights Country Club which is a ridiculously nice place about a mile from campus.  But probably technically across the street from campus at the same time. (Stanford owns about a billion land around the actual campus, so I'm never really sure where it ends).  And let me tell you, my new criteria for judging how nice a place is is by seeing how nice their bathrooms are.  And napkin-towels with the emblem of the country club on them pretty much mean that this place got a billion fancy points.  And by  billion, I mean approximately 25.4 points. 

Via - This is a popular alumni event where dinner is served on our main quad during homecoming weekend. 

Then, to top it off, it is a reunion party.  Meaning, these old people were very eager to act like they were 22 again.  I saw a lot of old people cursing, making weird ahhh! noises, flirting (involving the people who were "no longer with their first wives" or that sort of thing), and was flirted at by a lot of old men (flirted at?  does that make any sense?).  This one guy had had a couple of drinks and was leaning in all too close to tell me that I was young, and I had my whole life in front of me that I could do anything with, and that the girls at Stanford had gotten a lot cuter than they were in his days.  To which I responded that he was right that I was veeery young and then I smiled and pretended like someone was calling my name. (Aside - I don't much get flirted at (I'm embracing it now) by men my own age, however, at airports I am like kryptonite to men in their late 50s, which is actually a little bit frightening, because when someone offers to pay for your food in an airport, you become aware of all the sort of obligations that could come with this free, yet overpriced meal of a scone and a yogurt parfait.)

Oh and also, at the end of the party, we had the awesome duty of making sure everyone was good to drive (there was, after all, an open bar at this very nice venue).  Consider this for a moment.  Checking the sobriety of people who are around 77 years of age is actually quite difficult.  A lot of times when people have been drinking quite a bit, they are very social.  They stop and talk to you for longer than they normally would, and are very social.  But wait a minute, doesn't every conversation with an old person usually involve them talking for longer than you have interest to talk to them for, and them being very friendly or sometimes very blatant about the things around them?  Hmm, so then you try to judge by the way that they are walking.  Because people who are drunk usually stumble around a bit, can't walk quite in a straight line, and aren't very sure of their footing.  They sometimes need other people to help them stabilize themselves.  Oh but wait, all of the old people were stumbling as they were walking into the party (well, a lot of them were).  In conclusion, I never want to get old.

Ooh, I should get bonus points for mentioning that one man lost control of his bowels at one point in the evening.
Which reiterates my point about never wanting to get old.  Oh and also, what a horrible thing to happen at a reunion party.  That is not how anyone wants any of their peers to remember them.

A very weird night.  A very weird night indeed.  BUT (if you buy five completos...) I did get paid for it AND I got a free meal of really expensive, really tasty country club food.

So a good night.  For sursies.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

P.S.  DId you see me on TV last night?  To be honest, no one did. However, I think I probably made an impression on the minds of talent finders across the world.

That shadow is totally me!  Party!!

Add it to YOUR To-Do List!

Monday night.  8 o'clock.  What are you doing?  The question of all questions, my friends.

Here's what you should be doing: WATCHING MY TELEVISION DEBUT!

And by watching my television debut, I mean that you should be watching the Sing Off on NBC and scouring the shots of the audience for some sign of me.  Hey, everyone's gotta start somewhere, right?  Look for me in a blue top with pinkish flowers.  I'm probably holding a sign that says, "Everyone Loves Avi!" or something.  Probably looking like a crazed fan.  

A friend of mine is on the show in a group called Pentatonix, and they are completely awesome.  Like you wouldn't even believe.  I went to the taping of the show in August and since then I have been bursting at the seams waiting to see this episode.  I would tell you the name of the song they sing, but I think I signed a paper that says NBC will own a little piece of my soul if I let even the teensiest thing slip.  But, it has already been announced that it will be hip-hop night on the show on Monday.  

Seriously though, when I saw it live, I promise you I have never been more excited to hear anyone perform live.  It was amazing.  

You should really watch them sing "Video Killed the Radio Star."  In fact I think that so much that I'm going to post it.  

The bass in the group is a friend of mine and he and the percussionist seriously take the group to a whole other level.  A level that only exists in outer space.  Yeah, the dance moves are a little dorky for me in this video, but just listen to them.

And seriously, Monday night they are going to killlllllll!  Just trust me.  

A Gamboa Classic

Have you ever heard of giving someone the BOD?  Generally, it means to give someone the Benefit Of the Doubt.

An Evil Genius!!

Okay, okay, I'll explain!  In my family, we have a couple classic stories from the childhood of some of our siblings.  There's the brown sugar story, which has to be told by Camille (I wouldn't even try to explain this one - it has to be experienced), the fudge story, and there's the BOD story.  (There's probably a few others that I'm forgetting too.  They probably involve scars and getting lost as a child.)

This story is probably only funny if you know my little brother Lucas, but I tell it all the time and people find it funny sometimes, so here we go.  

Gamboa family tradition: When you turn 7, you've somehow earned the right to a trip to Disneyland with Grandma.  No one knows why, other than my Grandma has done this with all of her grandchildren, and simply because Disneyland is awesome.  Anyways, by the time my youngest brother was 7, my Grandma was having a little bit of trouble getting around (not to mention going on rides), so she just gave my sister Camille the money to take Luc to D-land.  (Which is actually totally not fair because Camille got to go to Disneyland.  Boo).  

Anyways, as such folk lore goes, I've lost a little bit of the details of the story, bit the gist is still there.  Which is that in some line, Camille and Luc were stuck by some kid who was being really annoying.  As little kids tend to do after a days worth of walking around an amusement park.  Anyways, my sister turns to Luc, and in an inspired teaching moment that she had as a 17 year-old big sister, she tells him to give the kid the BOD (obviously meaning the Benefit of the Doubt).  

Luc, being at the ripe maturity of a seven-year-old, didn't get what that meant.  So when Camille asked Luc if he knew what that meant, he thought for a second, then turned and said, "Beating Of Death?"  in a moment of pure Disney magic.  

So now, whenever my family deems that someone deserves the BOD, there's always that sort of question in the back of our heads about which one we'll give.  

Dear Everyone,

I'm counting "everyone" to be everyone who reads this blog.  It has recently come to my attention that I have surpassed 5,000 views of this blog.  This is both lame because this whole blog thing has been going on for about a year now, and a bit amazing seeing as I only really have about 15 people who actually consistently read this thing (and maybe I am related to 6 of them).

This is exciting.  Here is a facial expression to match that emotion:

Adorably, I might add.  

What is even more exciting than this?  A giveaway.  I will be giving away something.  I'm not going to tell you what that thing is just yet.  Because - This giveaway will not be occurring until I have surpassed 10,000 pageviews.  

So the way I see it, you have two options:

1)  Check my blog obsessively several times a day so that the total number of pageviews that I have goes up.  5,000 more pageviews divided by 15 people is about 333.3 pageviews per loyal reader.  Are you willing to wait until each of my readers has done this to find out what it is?  I promise, it will be something absolutely awesome that you will wish you had had in your life way earlier than this.  It will be something of actual value.  

2)  Tell someone else about my blog.  That's right folks, I'm going public.  As in, I am going slightly more public than I am currently.  In that I am trying to reach a wider audience.  If you think your friend will need a little convincing, tell them about the time I wrote a letter to a television.  Or the time I made a stupid comic out of my family.  Or maybe about the time I saved my family from a raging fire.  And the infamous one-girl-dance-parties, are a must-read, if I do say so myself (conceit is  fact of life here, people).  Or on the more serious side (as if I have one of those), you could suggest about my thoughts on children, or on how everyday life can be awesome.

To keep morale up, (as I suspect even with this big (awesome) promotional event, it will still take close to a billion years for us to make it to 10,000 views), I will be giving away a hint about what the awesome giveaway will be every time that another thousand milestone is passed. (If you're interested, you can see the number of pageviews by scrolling all the way to the bottom of my blog).  

Okay so Go! Go! GO! Grab your gopeds, gokarts, and gondolas and vote for Gigi Gamboa for Valencia Secretary*.  I mean, go do whatever you want.  

*May or may not have been the last line of my sixth grade speech to be the secretary of my elementary school's student council.  Which I won be tee dubs.  

Your adorkable bloggy friend, 

G


P.S.  I've gone back and forth about a billion times on whether or not I want to do this, so be kind.  Give me the Benefit of the Doubt.

Lately

SO over the weekend I chopped off a bunch of my hair and added red peak-a-boo highlights to it.  The chop was supposed to be shorter and more chic, but I've come to the decision that I have too much hair for it to look the way I want it to most of the time, which is fine because it does okay on its own.  And also I sort of chickened out on how short I would let the lady cut my hair to be.

The end result is that I have sort of a Mom haircut with random red highlights.  Both of which you can barely see here:

Please ignore the face that my facial expression makes me look, well, rather stupid.  But you can kind of see a highlight there.  They are very subtle, unless I wear my hair partially up, and then they are on the top level of visible hair and even then they kind of blend in with the rest of my dark hair to be ... less subtle.

I have this talent for rambling on about things that have very little meaning.  Have you noticed?

Anyways, there is more to this post than just announcing to the world that I cut my hair over the weekend (although that's definitely what prompted me to start writing this post, if we're being honest).

The rest of the post is about the fact that lately I just feel so inspired.  Like half of the things I walk by or or half the conversations I have make me want to go out and do something.  I took a few pictures.

Stanford at twilight:

My new favorite library:

It has super high ceilings and hardly ever has people in it because it is the Education library and it is not even its own building.


The Stanford RedZone:

Do you know what it's like to go to a football school?  I do.  (I like to brag about our football team - a lot.)


Guys, get excited! I am.

This Isn't Weird, Right?

Unabashed list coming through:

• Sometimes I look in the mirror and think, "I look so horrible right now, that I think I crossed back into cute somewhere."
• I've been in a poking war on fb with my two little brothers and my best friend for several months
• I got so upset over the ending to the last hunger games book, that I spent a week trying to imagine an ending where all of the issues get resolved in a way that I find suitable.  It's sort of detailed.  
• A very large portion of my alone time is filled with singing and dancing. 
• Because my best thoughts sometimes come to me right before I go to sleep, sometimes I go through my night time routine just to get to the good ideas.
• I only own high-heeled shoes (emphasis on the high) and flip-flops.  Plus one pair of converse and one pair of exercise shoes.  
• Sometimes I wish I could just smell lightly of cinnamon for the rest of my life.  It would be an awesome perfume.  
• Lately, I've been craving Christmas music.  I keep humming "Winter Wonderland" as a quick fix. Because December is the best month that there is.  And nothing could ever convince me otherwise.  
• More and more, I appreciate the value of a good-old-fashioned gentleman.  
• I want to live in the Incredible's house.  No, really.  It's spawning an interest in home decor.  
• My family has this weird obsession with chocolate milk that I just realized when my mom came to visit and bought a tube of Nesquik for my new place.  

I'm a believer in ever blog post having a picture to call it's own, so here you go:

The Post I Almost Did Yesterday

Remember when I said that I love my walk home?  Turns out that is true even when it's raining.  Two days in a row.

Back to the main point, I love my walk home.  Like times a thousand.  Which leads me to......

"20 Minutes in the Life of Gigi While Walking" Picture Tour!!!!!

I hope that was self-explanatory.

So get this.  You are now a twenty-year-old college coed attending one Stanford University.  You are obsessed with your football team and today you might have accidentally said that you have elephant-like skin in one of your classes for reasons that still don't make sense to you, but this is besides the point.  

After engaging in a full school-day's worth of schoolishness and good old fashioned hard work, you head home from the library.  And here's where we hit picture number one:

Really, there was a maintenance man putting in light bulbs at a different chandelier that you really wanted to take a picture of, but you decided that blatantly taking a picture of a stranger who is stuck at the top of a tall ladder might be a little less than usual.  But you take a picture of the chandeliers anyways because, really, it's the little things that remind you of Hogwarts.  

After leaving the library and making a bit of awkward small talk with the library man, you set off into the world, ready for the fresh air.  Only when you leave the library, you start to wonder where Christian Bale is, because, are we filming the next Batman movie?

You marvel at the fact that you have now taken two pictures without anyone noticing that you have taken them, and decide that that man is infinitely cooler for owning a motorcycle that is basically a replica of the Bat-mobile.  But all motorcycle lusting aside, you now have the urge for an insanely cool leather jacket because then if you asked that man to let you ride his bike, he would probably let you because you looked so cool.

Overcome by a sense of sadness at your lack of leather jacket, you decide life is too short to mourn what could have been, and again, you press onward.  Wandering the sidewalks, and admiring your shadow (How is she like me, except with longer legs and way skinnier?  I want to look like her.), you see something that causes you to wonder.

You come to the conclusion that a sprinkler has been broken, but still there are so many questions:  What are those little flags there for?  If they noticed a problem was there, why did they put little flags there instead of fixing the sprinkler?  Are the little flags to alert you of the tiny marshlands that are growing and slowly taking over the sidewalks?

Whatever, it must not be terribly important, because you are still walking.  But then you get to your neighborhood.  Your neighborhood!  And every time that you enter this magical little place known as College Terrace, you want to scream to the world that it is something like Narnia.  Having never seen a neighborhood so adorable and also, let's be honest, kind of cramped as this, you indulge in three photos.  Three!

After taking this photo, you realize you have captured these cyclisysts in the moment and are both concerned and overjoyed.  Concerned because, why do you have this weird urge to take photos of strangers today, and overjoyed because, how idyllic is this?   They are literally riding bikes through their neighborhood, and the son is wearing a helmet and everything.  

When you get to this house, you at first want to own it, and then realize how much of a grandma you would appear to be if you actually owned a house that was somewhere between pink and purple.  And you would have so much gardening to do!

And as you stop right before taking the pathway back to your place, you snap this shot from your front yard and think, "if I had a green house, would that automatically make me a better parent?"  because that logic is very sound.  Oh and also, even though your camera didn't catch it, you see that there are now pumpkins on the front porch of this little green house and you're so overcome with the Disney/Pixar "Up" of it all that you spend the rest of the afternoon pondering what you would do if a little Asian boy with an absentee father showed up at your doorstep.  Would you dismiss him or would you take him to Fenton's ice cream?  Which is a real place in Oakland that you now really want to visit.

And then you turn to face the 921 (soon to be named with a real good name), and you realize that only eyes can do justice to this little majesty of a triplex.

Oh, you can go back to being you now.