Coachella!

Gonna lose my shit.

We're less than a month away from Coachella. When the UPS guy showed up with my blessed wristband on Friday I snatched it up immediately from my doorstep. It's safely tucked away and I will have a panic attack as the event nears because I'm sure I'll forget when I've put it. I am a little crazy.

I'm curious to find out if I have what it takes to bag at this event. NOT smoosh. I plan on having a solid buzz for three days straight and a music high. The energy will bring out my fierce flirting... fingers crossed.

Lets revisit this gem from last year: Wasted Guy at Coachella Can't Put On His Flip Flop. So not baggable.

Rain. Not cute.

Fierce boots will make the rain better, Momma says.

As I was driving the 405 South bound and embracing the usual slow traffic from the Getty to LAX (essentially the entire West side), which is now intensified by the rain that is falling in ways we haven't seen since El Nino (I may be exaggerating) I couldn't help but wonder-- how many first dates are put on hold by the rain?

How do people deal with this type of weather?

California you have me spoiled. I don't know how to take care of myself. You've ripped the rug of sunshine from under me.

Frizzy hair. Bad traffic. The dread of walking out the door and facing the cold dampness. As a native Southern Californian I just can't comprehend and process. I am not equipped on how to handle variable/unfavorable weather while dating.

I'm in a baggin dry spell.

I blame the rain.

Help Japan.

Rob Dobi print. Purchase.

My day job involves following politics and understanding how people engage in their community. This blog serves as a silly outlet from my daily grind.

However, I can't seem to ignore current events-- it would be a disservice to my passion for social justice and humanitarianism. There is a overwhelming list of injustice in the news but I'll focus on the non-man-made tragedy that is happening in Japan. A topic where baggin can have some impact and do some good.

marpop's article Go Out, Have Fun, Help Japan provides a list of LA restaurants who are donating to relief efforts in Japan this weekend. I dislike the article, in that I think the title is a bit flippant. Perhaps I'm just too stodgy. No matter what you think of the title there is some good insight on where you should be taking dates and where to belly up to the bar in attempts to bag.

LA Weekly also provides some fundraisers to check out, half of which have passed. I'm a bit behind.

Not sure how to help? Splurge on a dinner out at one of the participating restaurants. This weekend I will cheers to my health, my friends & family, and the knowledge that I am one fortunate lady.

Rudolf & the Black Prince(s)

If your product doesn't have at least 5% benzoyl peroxide I'm not interested.

This week I developed a white head on my nose. When I went to pop it (save your judgement) I came face to face with my ever present black heads. There was an army of them and I was hardly equipped for battle.

I should never come so close to a mirror. An overwhelming sense of self consciousness came over me. A pure hatred for my skin.

I'm listening to Rod Stewart, sipping wine and wondering why my nose feels like its sun burnt. I popped the zit two days ago and its still red.

Zits you have overstayed your welcome in my pores. I cut you off when I was 18. You're still lingering.

This weekend calls for a face mask and a yoga session to bring back my swagger.

The Date That Wasn't

Can we agree that the Cheers bar is ridiculously large?

L'Chaim! 

About a year ago I became involved with a Jewish social group, Moishe House. This group of 20-somethings with the occasional 30-something was a great way to meet people out of my social network and get my Jewish men fix. If you visit a Moishe House don’t go with the intent of finding your future spouse because you will be let down—as are most situations with high expectations. I always attended with an open mind and no intentions of finding my soul mate. I no longer attend events but I walked away with a new girlfriend, some good stories, delicious Shabbat dinners consumed and some good flirt sessions (take advantage of the practice when you can!).

From ew to baggable.
At an event last month I met this fella who upon first sight seemed like a total dweeb. Straight up dweeb. Frankly, I shuddered with disdain when he walked up to my circle to join the banter. If I was a sexually repressed football player of Glee I would’ve slurpeed him to the face.

OK so in Glee we learn Dweebs are actually cool. Rachel finally dates Quinn. The kid in the wheelchair gets to bone the cheerleader. And my Dweeb as it turns out is funny as fuck and could hold his own. One point for the Dweebs. Begin Lady GaGa “Born This Way” mashed with Spice Girls “Wannabe.”

I was so impressed by his ability to keep up with my sassiness I asked for his number. And yes, there was so an awkward tension caused by the people around us staring. Can’t people exchange numbers without people giving an oogling look?! It’s not like we’re boning on the spot and exchanging vows. Interest is merely piqued. 

Let me show you my town. 
This bagged gentleman dude was new to town and I live in a great area worthy of showing off. After we parted Moishe I suggested I show him around and that I would be in touch.

Although I asked for his number he called me first later that week. A man who can call a girl is a rare find. The confidence and ease of the effort was truly refreshing. Nice one Dweeb.

I suggested meeting at a great little Cuban restaurant.

Flirty texting ensued leading up to the date.

I had my A game on and was ready to enjoy the evening.

Me, “Hi! Great to see you!”

Him, “Hi! Yea, so I invited Rachel.”

LOOK OF SHOCK ON MY FACE. 

Me, “Well you better tell the host because I told him a table for two.”

He knew what he had done was so not kosher. I was not threatened by this girl. I did not have enough invested in this dude to really care the outcome. I had met her before and he told me she was like sister.

Who brings their sister on a date?!

We enjoyed our evening and I put on a good face but the whole time thought WHAT THE FUCK.

I’m on a quest to bag. We’re counting this as a bag just a bag gone wrong.

Cheers! Where everyone knows your name.
Victory was mine when after dinner we went to a local watering hole. The stars were aligned when I spotted three guys I knew at the bar. This isn’t a regular occurrence for me to run into people and I definitely didn’t plan it in advance.

My friends gave me a warm welcome with hugs and showered me with attention. Did I mention they’re pretty good looking?

Dude was visibly uncomfortable. I was reveling in the moment.

A bit tipsy I went to the bathroom and texted one of my girlfriends the cliff cliff notes while giggling in the stall.

I walked back from the bathroom BEAMING with confidence.

It became clear to me I was no longer interested in Dude. And for all I cared he could go fuck himself. Alcohol will do that.


I know who I want to take me home.
We left the bar and the sister/friend went home (for the record she is nice and I felt bad she got dragged into it). Dude and I spend some time talking afterwards and I did enjoy the conversation. But the killer was my body language did not read flirtation or interest whatsoever. I was engaged in conversation and I was enjoyable but body language gives so much insight to what a person thinks in terms of potential romance.

From the instant he said “I invited Rachel” my body language turned from date flirtation to friend casual time. Friend casual time? I hope that explains itself.

He drove me home and his parting words were, “Next time, it’ll be just the two of us.”

I never heard from him again.

photo: vintagestills.com