where the hell am I?

Saturday, August 09, 2014

So I am 13 days into a 24-day-straight work run. Which means two things: It's event season in the wine world, and I'm borderline certifiable right now. (About that last part -- what else is new, right?)

Last weekend I was in San Francisco for the Eat Drink SF, which I personally think should be rebranded as the Wine Country Casual Super Fashion Spectacular. For example:

Hey, it's Austin Powers!

"I'm a 'dancer.'" Wink wink.

Someone please tell me this is a joke.

Yes, folks, I am a terribly judgmental person. But come on. Look at that last photo. What the hell was that dude thinking?! Did he really look in a mirror and think: "So I have these fish-print shorts, and they maybe sort of look like I'm in my boxers, but no one will think they're underwear if I wear this amazing floral shirt with them. Hey, girl, hey."

Anyway. I'm in Texas right now. Irving, to be exact. TexSom, if you really want to get down to the nitty-gritty. And in typical fashion, I've already had some dumb adventures.

First, I had a 6:45 a.m. flight yesterday. And still went out the night before. I met some winery friends for what was supposed to be a mellow dinner with a margarita (singular), but then three margaritas and three glasses of wine later, I was at their house holding a meat cone (yes, you read that correctly) and it was after midnight.

See? I don't lie about meat cones.

I showed up at the airport still in -- how shall we word this? -- "fun mode" and wearing the same clothes from the night before. And then got on the plane, landed in This Place That Feels Like Standing Under a Heater Every Time You Go Outside and went into a 3.5-hour planning meeting with our two PR agencies. And the whole time I was thinking: I have no idea what I put in my suitcase.

How to know you're a professional: When you open said suitcase and find three dresses, a romper, three nice blouses to wear with jeans, running clothes, swim gear (including a kickboard and pull buoy), three pairs of shoes and enough underwear. Man, sometimes I impress even myself. (Sorry, no fish shorts, though.)

But wait, it gets better: Then we all hopped in an Uber to go to dinner. The driver was very thoughtful and had a plastic box of candy in the backseat for his passengers. I was holding it open in my lap so my coworker could snap a photo and pick out a lollipop. And that's when I noticed the absolutely gigantic cockroach hiding in the Dum Dums. I shrieked bloody murder and threw that shit on the floor so fast that I'm really surprised we didn't get into a car accident.

Roach, upper right corner

I don't think I will ever live this incident down.

Anyway, after the cockroach-induced near-heart attack experience, we went to a steakhouse and proceeded to clog our arteries.

Oh, look: A bacon tasting!

Because we are awesome (and it was my boss's birthday), the chef sent out two extra steaks. And the largest one somehow ended up in front of me.

Size matters


Can't wait to see what adventures are in store for me today. One thing is guaranteed, though: They will surely involve the meat sweats.

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