I decided I’d rather travel alone then spend any more time trying to find my “partner in crime”.  I did what every single and ready to mingle lady with raging hormones does.  I went to Oahu.  Yup. That was my choice of party places.  Whoop! Whoop!  At the time I was heading to Oahu, my girlfriend AKA BFF, Lili was in Thailand.  (My mother thought BFF stood for “Bitch Fucken Freak”.  I’m not sure, nor did I ask who she thought was the BFF between Lili and I.)  You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just go with her to Thailand.  Our ideas of vacations are completely different.  I like to go to tropical, warm places and soak up the local culture and cuisine.  Her idea of a vacation includes hiking up Machu Picchu in silence with forty strangers to partake in a silent yoga retreat, while eating nuts and berries for three weeks.  No thank you!  She told me all about her exciting trip to Peru and I kept repeating, “oh thank God” when she finally asked me why I was continuing to thank God because her trip wasn’t scary and was rather tame, I admitted I was relieved that I decided I didn’t want to go on that trip with her.  In my defense, the poor girl who was dumb enough to go with her never spoke with her again.  I didn’t want to ask what was done during their silent retreat that could cause such a tiff.

I am not going to make the effort to go to Thailand, pay for the trip and take time off work, unless I know I will eat mounds of Pad Thai and curry, drink lots of whatever alcohol the locals drink and talk to as many people who can speak English as possible.  If I had to be silent for even thirty minutes, the only nuts we would be dealing with is me.  Even my high school boyfriend quickly learned that my threats of silent treatment wouldn’t outlast one song on the radio.  So, to preserve my friendship with Lili, I refused to vacation with her. 

Her trip to Thailand, alone, was a lot more exciting than her trip to Peru, even though it still included an obscene amount of meditation and yoga.  Why can’t people meditate and do yoga at home, for free?  She was actually exploring some fun places in Thailand.  Although, she refused to eat any authentic food that wasn’t vegetarian and she couldn’t identify every vegetable in the food.  She was informed by the hotel concierge that she would be better off renting a moped instead of a car to go sightseeing in Thailand.

While on my first vacation alone I quickly learned two things first was that there is a lot of silence when you’re alone and second is that silence is not golden.  By the middle of day two of my vacation, I had called and caught up with most, if not all, of my family members.  Thank you, Verizon, for unlimited talk and text.  When the silence became deafening and I was bored with laying out in the sun I called Lili to see how she was doing.  She sounded jubilant and cheerful, not her typical self.  She told me all about her first week in Thailand and how much fun she was having.  I was a bit bummed out because my trip had turned out so boring.  Apparently, Oahu is NOT where single men in their thirties go to vacation, news flash, that’s Mexico.  Lili suggested I rent a moped and take a tour of the island.  “It’s fun,” she said.  “Everyone does it,” she said.  “It’s safe, people in Thailand carry entire families on one mope,” she said.  I had seen a moped rental shop from my hotel room window so I walked over and asked the owner if I could rent a moped without a motorcycle license.  I informed him that I wanted to take a tour of the island and needed an all-day rental.  He repeated all the same things Lili told me about fun, safe and everyone does it.  “Can I take the moped to North Shore?” I asked.  “Sure, everyone does it.”  I reserved a moped for the next day and told him I would be there for my quick lesson as soon as he opened. 

That night I was so excited about my self-tour of the island, I could barely sleep.  I woke up super early, did my make-up and hair and walked over to the moped rental shop in my shorts, tank-top and flip-flops.  I had my backpack with my camera for all the pictures I wanted to get evidence of my exciting day.  When the moped shop owner saw me, the first thing he said was, “You should be fine in flip-flops.” “Huh? What? Should I wear different shoes?” “No, you should be fine. Let’s get your lesson started. First, put your camera bag in the compartment under the seat.  Sit down.  You’re going to want to put your feet on the ground when you stop otherwise, you’ll tip the moped over.”  I tried to place both of my feet on the ground and the legs that came with my 5’0” frame was too short to accommodate both being placed on the ground at the same time.  “No problem, maybe you can balance the moped on one leg.” That I could do, but I was still on my tippy toes.  I finally realized where my super strong thighs would come in handy.  I always knew they would have a purpose.  “A few more things to know, don’t ever leave the moped without locking it to something, it will get stolen and you’ll be responsible for replacing it.  Stay off the highways.”  That should be easy.  I was super excited, until I was informed that I was required by Hawaii state law that I would have to wear a hideous helmet.  “What? But I’ll have helmet hair!” “Better than brain dead.” He quickly won that argument.

I pulled out my map and asked him to point in the direction I would need to go to get to North Shore and see the Dole Plantation on my way.  He showed me on the map and said, “You better put that map under the seat, or it will blow away.” “What the fuck?”  I get lost with a map in front of me. I cannot memorize the directions.  He assured me that there were directional signs everywhere.  Okay fine, I just must go left for a while, then make a right.  I made a mental note to ask Lili how she got around without a map, in flip-flops and no helmet. 

I began my journey in Waikiki and headed left, I don’t know if that’s north, south, east or west.  The whole, west is where the sunsets went out the window when I landed in Oahu.  Within a few minutes of riding my moped “left”, I felt like I had the hang of this moped riding and was doing great.  When low and behold, I saw a sign, crap!!!! The speed limit here was 65 and my moped maxed out at 50 and even though I had the moped fully throttle I was barely going 40 mph.  How did I get on the freeway?  I never drove onto a freeway onramp.  How do I get off, if I don’t know how I got on?  The freeway seemed to be a continuous ring of onramps and exits, and I couldn’t tell if they lead to other freeways or streets.  I stayed in the slow lane and felt relieved when I saw a sign that said “Dole”.  I exited the freeway and went right as instructed.  Within a few minutes, the two-lane road was breathtaking.  I felt like I was in the middle of Fantasy Island.  It was lush and green with waterfalls at every other turn.  I decided that since this was a road less traveled, I was going to take my time and not worry about rushing to North Shore.  Part of my decision was based on the fact that I had come to the realization that my moped was slower than molasses and I should just embrace its limitations. 

The road to North Shore was pretty much uphill.  At this point the moped was barely going 35 mph, and I could see in the side mirror that a car was approaching behind me.  I started to get a little nervous, I had been on this road for a good twenty minutes and had not seen one single passing lane, nor was there a shoulder on the side.  If I pulled over, even on the small moped, I would be hit by a passing car.  I started to get really nervous when the cars behind me started piling up.  As far as I could see in my side mirror there were cars lined up behind me.  The wind blowing in my giant, hideous helmet that was blowing back so hard the strap was choking me, was so loud I couldn’t hear the cars were honking.  I just kept riding as fast as I could.  At one point I even tried to suck in my gut to see if the reduction in weight may give the stupid moped some much needed power.  No luck.  So, I tried thrusting my body forward repeatedly.  Again, no luck.  This moped was not equipped to exceed 35 miles per hour, up a hill with a grown ass adult, even a slightly less than average size adult.  Oh, who are we kidding, most sixth graders are taller than me.  This was terrible.  If I was in California, my life would certainly be in jeopardy by some road-raging lunatic. 

My palms were sweaty and my heart was racing.  I turned a corner in the road and noticed I was quickly approaching a semi-truck.  At first, I was annoyed because the truck was going to slow down what little momentum I had.  Then I realized, if I was catching up to the truck, that meant the truck was slower than me and it was holding up the traffic, not me.  I was relieved and finally let out my gut.  The smile on my face returned with vengeance.  Ear to ear, teeth and all.  When I got a few feet behind the truck, I was quickly hit in the face with a dust cloud coming up from the side of the road.  In my blissful attempt to catch up to the truck to evade being the cause of the traffic jam, I failed to notice the truck barely fit the width of the lane and was partially driving on the side of the road with the lovely red dirt.  The rear tires, yes, all four on the right side, were sweeping the dirt up directly into me.   Within a few minutes, I couldn’t see out of my right eye, and I had to make sure I kept my mouth shut.  I wished I had the ability to close my nostrils because the red dirt was burning its way up through my brain.  I was confident that I would be coughing and sneezing out red dirt for weeks or months.  I already could feel the crunching of dirt between my teeth. 

Dear God, who the fuck’s idea was this and why did I listen?  I was half terrified and half irate.  I wasn’t sure which emotion I would inevitably succumb to.  I was extremely relieved that the endless line of traffic behind me was no longer my fault.  But, this was not safe.  I must have driven for about twenty minutes before I had my first and only break from what was undoubtedly the worst and most dangerous idea Lili ever came up with.  I should’ve known better.  Now, I was beginning to understand possible reasons why her friend that went to Peru with her never spoke with her again.  I had every intention of speaking with her again and I had no doubt would be starting and ending every sentence with four letter words.  My red dirt exfoliation session ended when I approached my first destination, the Dole Plantation.  I turned right into the driveway and looked for a parking spot where I could lock up the moped.  It would serve the owner right if it was stolen, except my credit card would be charged $1,700 to replace this piece of shit death mobile. 

I was finally able to locate a poll on the far end of the lot.  I parked the moped, locked it up, pulled my phone out and called a friend who was in California.  As I was dialing the number, I felt a rush of emotions…I was about to burst into tears.  But, when he answered the phone, I surprisingly burst into uncontrollable laughter.  I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t even explain what just happened.  I finally stopped laughing long enough to give him the abbreviated version of events.  The only thing he kept repeating is, “are you crazy? You could’ve been killed!”  Apparently, the fact that I found this entire situation amusing was more concerning to my friend.  

I decided to end my call with Debbie downer and get some food.  Driving the death mobile worked up my appetite and I was told this place has a restaurant with authentic Hawaiian food.  The restaurant was more like an elementary school cafeteria buffet, both in appearance and quality of food.  When I was done consuming what I considered to only qualify as nutrition, I realized I was about halfway through my journey to North Shore and had to quickly decide if I was going to commit to or abort Mission North Shore. 

There are two things about myself that I have learned to love and hate equally.  First, is my debilitating fear of commitment.  Yea, I am that girl who upon any requirement to commit to anything, I get a severe stomachache, followed by the simultaneous need to puke and shit, which results in having to decide if I am going to commit to puking or shitting, which causes more sweating, chest pains and at times even uncontrollable crying.  This includes, but is not limited to, men, weekend plans, food plans, signing a lease for a place to live, gym classes that require advanced sign up and charge you for cancellation, doctor’s appointments, flights, hotel reservations, etcetera, etcetera.  Yes, the specific examples are of actual times where I had my commitment fears rear their ugly heads.  I think the only reason why I married my ex-husband was because not so deep down inside, I knew it wouldn’t last.  Now, to address my commitment fears, I always say, “you’re not marrying it and even if you are, you can always get a divorce.” I refer to this ugly headed, debilitating beast as Nessie. 

You’re probably wondering how I made advanced plans to fly to Oahu.  That’s the second important part of my personality I equally love and hate.  I am not a quitter.  Once a thought comes into mind, I will not backout.  I took that same approach with my decision to complete Mission North Shore.  I hopped back on the death mobile and headed north.  This kind of reminded me of the movie, El Norte.  I don’t recall much of the movie, just that a guy went El Norte from Central America to the United States.  Sure, I wasn’t looking for a better life for my family.  Sure, I wasn’t escaping poverty and a fucked up a government in a drug war torn country.  Thankfully, there were no rats.  But my journey was exactly in the same direction.  We both went to El Norte. That’s all we had in common.

I drove for about thirty minutes and made a few wrong turns before I got to North Shore.  (I can get lost with a navigation system in my car driving from the dry cleaners to my house a mile away.  Yes, I got lost in this fashion and had to call a friend to help me find my way home.  When my navigation system didn’t work, I informed the service guy at the Ford dealer that it was a life and death situation and made him give me directions.)  North Shore was breathtaking.  The waves were like a wall of water racing toward the shore and rhythmically transformed into a giant tube.  I had never seen anything like this, and I practically grew up at Zumba beach.  The waves were inviting, until I saw a tiny object which I realized was a surfer conquering the beast and then losing as he tumbled around and around.  I could’ve sworn he was dead.  Then he popped up in the water and started paddling out again.  I wasn’t far from the waves, and I had a great camera.  I was thrilled that I would now have some great photographs of this natural phenomenon.  I found the perfect location.  I just had to find a poll to lock up the death mobile and start taking pictures. 

I wasn’t surprised that there wasn’t a single poll or object where I could lock up the death mobile.  I didn’t see one single death mobile on the road since I left Waikiki.  I drove around a little with no luck.  I could not believe I drove over three hours and couldn’t stop and take pictures.  That was the only reason I went to El Norte in the first place!!!!  I was not happy.  I did what any self-respecting person would do, I left the death mobile, ran over to a good location and snapped some shots.  I decided since it would take me three hours to get back on the death mobile, having it stolen wasn’t such a bad idea.  I got my pictures and to my disappointment, the death mobile was still there. 

I was determined to get back in one piece without any further obstacles.  I stopped at a gas station to get gas; it was over $7 a gallon and I was pissed off that I would now be gas gouged by the exorbitant island gas prices.  I pulled in next to a full-size SUV and began pumping.  The guy’s pump was over $50 and rapidly increasing.  He saw me on the death mobile and condescendingly said, “nice ride.”  I smiled and thanked him.  I was so embarrassed, I wanted to crawl into the compartment under the seat and hide.  Then my pump shut off and the screen read $14.36.  I looked at him and said, “bet you wish you had my nice ride now, don’t you?” Luckily, he laughed it off and I was on my merry way.  Ugh, three more hours of this shit and I would be back in my cozy hotel.  However, about ten minutes into my journey “El Southe”, (is that even a word in Spanish?) I came to the realization that the road was now downhill, and my death mobile was not fucking around.  Even though the speedometer tapped out at 55 mph, I was confident I was exceeding those speeds by at least 20 mph, and I was in no mood to test my brakes.  I rode that bitch like the wind and prayed I wouldn’t become an organ donor that day.  Okay fine, I lied, my vanity got the best of me and at most I prayed I wouldn’t get into an accident that would leave me with life altering, ugly scars.   One of the many benefits of the downhill speeds was that I made it back to Waikiki in half the time it took me to get to North Shore. 

After dodging cars on the freeway several more times, I reached my destination.  I drove into the death mobile rental shop and quickly and adamantly informed the owner that he was wrong. I told him, “I could’ve been killed! It isn’t safe! No one else is dumb enough to take a death mobile from Waikiki to North Shore and there is nowhere to lock up this piece of shit when you do get to North Shore…oh and it has impressive miles per gallon fuel ratio.”  Then I stormed out. 

The next day, I decided to lay low and stay off the roads.  But, after a few hours of laying out by the pool, then a few hours of laying out at the beach, I was done laying around and extremely restless.  I asked the lovely Hawaiian lady who sold timeshare excursions if she had any recommendation of places I could eat.  She suggested The Barefoot Bar at Dukes.  It’s on the beach, with a great atmosphere and live band.  Best part was that it was walking distance from the hotel.  I consider anything less than two miles walking distance even in my four-inch heels. 

I showered, washed half a pound of red dirt out of my hair and every orifice in my body, fixed my hair and put on my war paint.  I was determined to meet some guys tonight.  I walked into the Barefoot Bar around six and sat down at the bar.  I was immediately greeted by Jimmy, the bartender.  Super nice guy, but a little antsy.  You see, one of the many great things about me, other than my modesty, is that I do not discriminate and I drink all types of alcohol.  This results in my constant dilemma of what I am in the mood to drink.  Other than wine, I don’t have go to beverage.  I have Nessie.

Jimmy doesn’t have the patience for my anti-discriminatory behavior.   The second time he comes over to get me a drink, he suggests, “how about I surprise you?” “That sounds great!”  I oblige him and he quickly returns with a tall, pretty, blue beverage.  It was so delicious that I almost down the drink.  Jimmy comes back over and asks if I would like another and I said, “no, but surprise me with something else.”  Jimmy and I spent the rest of the night chatting.  Turns out he was “a big deal” back in the day.  He was a former professional surfer and there were photos of him on posters with first place awards all over the bar.  Jimmy was kind enough to take me under his wing and tell me all about the ins-and-outs of Island life.  I left there with a new friend, thirty years my senior, but a nice guy, nonetheless.

The next day, I partook in a terrible luau and decided to have a few drinks at the Barefoot Bar again.  Jimmy would be working and at least I would have someone to talk to.  My predominately silent vacation was taking a toll on me.  Day two at the Barefoot Bar was far different than day one.  There were significantly more people at the bar and a few hot guys.  Luckily, a very hot guy came and sat next to me at the bar.  He repeatedly tried to talk to me, but I was not interested in taking the bait.  He was one of those, “I’m sexy and I know it” looking guys.  I don’t blame him.  The man had perfect caramel color skin, gorgeous blue eyes and an award-winning smile. 

Jimmy came over and asked him if he wanted a drink.  He ordered his drink and then informed Jimmy that he would be buying my next beverage.  Jimmy practically rolled his eyes at the guy, and I turned to him and said, “thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”  I was super proud of myself, especially when Jimmy smiled at me and gave me the “you’re awesome for refusing” look.  Of course, I didn’t want to be rude to the man who looked like a Greek…um…more like an African God, so I decided to talk to him. 

He had a tattoo on his bicep.  It looked like Japanese or Chinese writing.  I have zero knowledge of Asian languages and don’t even pretend to know the difference.  I asked the African God what his tattoo said.  He smiled at me with his panty dropping smile, and in his Luther Vandros voice he said, “I can’t tell you unless you’re in the inner circle”.  And he made a circle with his fingers.  You know that scene from the movie, Meet The Faulkers?  Yea, that fucken cliché and lame ass shit.  Who the fuck did this guy think he was and how desperate did he think I was?  Fuck this shit!  Game on motherfucker! 

I was going to show him who was boss and I was going to do with dignity.  I started flirting with him.  I laid it on thick.  Caressed his bicep, giggled at everything he said that was remotely funny, put my hand on his thigh, batted my eyelashes and played with my hair.  You know, at the signs that a girl is into you?  Yea, I played the part brilliantly.  I even let him buy me a drink.  He told me he lived on the island.  We talked about what hotel I was staying at and the fact that I decided to travel alone.  After about an hour, African God asked me if I wanted to go on a walk on the beach.  I said, “sure.”  African God needed to use the bathroom before we headed out.  I took advantage of this time to let Jimmy know he didn’t need to close me because I would be coming back.  Jimmy didn’t look convinced. 

When African God returned, we headed out to the beach, I took off my shoes and we walked for about twenty minutes, we turned around and stopped on the beach directly in front of my hotel.  In Waikiki the distance between the ocean and the hotel is barely a stone’s throw away.  It never dawned on me that he would know where my hotel was simply by name.  We don’t have that luxury of knowledge in California.  In California, if someone said they’re staying at the Marriott, it would take three to six months to effectively stalk them.  He stood in front of me, glanced at my hotel and asked me, “are you going to show me your hotel room?”  I planned most of this, flirting, giggling and even the arm caressing, but I could have planned it this perfectly.  Actually, I didn’t plan it, he did. He intentionally asked me to on a walk so he could take me back to my room. So, I most certainly cannot in good conscience take credit for the brilliant way this night ended.  I looked at him with adoring eyes and replied, “I can’t show you the inside of my hotel room unless you’re in the inner circle.”  I even went as far as making the circle with my fingers. Just. Like. Him.  I swear I saw rage in his eyes.  He stared at me for what seemed like an hour but was probably a few seconds.  Without another word, he stormed off like a sore loser.  I was elated when he walked off because I couldn’t hold in my hysterical laughing any longer.  I walked back to the Barefoot Bar, sat down and asked Jimmy, “can you surprise me with another drink?”  He was shocked to see me back and admitted he really didn’t expect me to return.  Apparently, African God is a regular at the Barefoot Bar, and he “regularly” takes single vacationers back to their hotel. Not me, this bat shit crazy bitch is done being played.

I had never been on a vacation alone before, but I was fed up with waiting for a “partner in crime” to start living my life.  Apparently, sometime in the last decade, having a “partner in crime” became the new fad.  I blame it on on-line dating where everyone gets to essentially plagiarize each other’s profiles not thinking about or even realizing how cliché that sounds or how ridiculous they sound, regurgitating someone else’s wants, desires, needs and personality.  What do they think?  They are the only profile stealing mastermind among the millions who willingly spend more time “chatting” with people via an electronic device than they do making a human connection.  Although, that would make sense.  If you never speak with anyone in person on any level other than “what do you like to do for fun”, you’d never know how many millions of people are looking for a “partner in crime”.  What does that mean anyway?  Bonnie and Clyde didn’t actually have a great happy ever after outcome.  Is that what people want?  To blissfully commit homicide as long as it is with a partner?  I don’t know about them, but death by gunshot wound is not my idea of a fun date.  Even on a Tuesday night.  Unless of course my date is so boring because he has never had a conversation with a woman in person and is only charming and witty when he has unlimited time to think about his reply. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have obviously partaken in this crazy swipe-style dating approach.  I’ve met my share of men both figuratively and literally.  While I prefer the latter, I often wonder why I succumb to meeting men who I know would never be a good “partner in crime”.  There has been once or twice that my decision to cease all communication was based purely on the fact that I would be dating a criminal.  For example, Craig who I met at a bar with my cousin…boy was he H-O-T.  He looked like Bradley Cooper with a million-dollar smile. 

After dating for a short period of time, he invited me back to his place.  To my utter disbelief he had not one, but two queen-size beds in his living room, along with a couch, television, small dining table, an old ugly armoire-looking thing which housed his clothes and a few guitars hung on the wall.  At least he didn’t live with his parents. My first inclination was to ask him if what looked like a two-bedroom house with a garage was actually a studio cottage of some sorts.  Thankfully, after a few drinks my thought to mouth filter is the first to go.  After my second glass of wine, as expected, I blurted out, “so, what the fuck is going on here?”  I was even more surprised by his response than I was by his living room filled with what was obviously ALL of the furnishings of his two-bedroom house.  He looked puzzled when he asked me, “going on where?” “How do I say this nicely? You have two queen size beds and a makeshift closet in your living room. “Oh, my son comes and stays here with me sometimes so the second bed is his.” “Are you fucking kidding me? The second bed is what you thought needed an explanation?  Not, the fact that what appears to be all of your furniture is in your living room?” 

Something fishy was going on here and I was going to get to the bottom of this.  I’m the type of person that insists on asking questions and getting enough evidence to run out of the house, instead of just accepting the obvious and running out of the house.  So, I pleasantly smiled and waited for a perfectly reasonable explanation.  Craig decided that he was going to throw perfectly reasonable explanations out the window.  “I grow weed in the bedrooms.”  I have zero experience with the art of growing anything.  I can kill a cactus.  This includes recreational drugs.  I had no idea what this weed-growing hobby entailed or why he couldn’t have furniture in the bedrooms where he had a pot of weed. No pun intended.  I quickly informed him that I don’t do drugs and would appreciate it if he didn’t do them while I was in his house.  He assured me that he wouldn’t because he only smokes weed to “inspect the quality”.   I’m now two glasses of wine in and my heads spinning and not because I am a light weight.  All I know is that I’ve got to stop drinking so I can have a detailed recollection of the events because God knows my cousin will be given a play-by-play of tonight’s events.  Partially because of the insanity, but mostly because she convinced me to go out with him.  I was technically on a dating hiatus and lived way too far away to waste my time with him. 

“Why can’t you have a bed in the same room as the weed?” The minute the words left my mouth, I regretted asking the question.  I didn’t know why this man thought he could trust me with all this criminal activity.  He barely knew me.  He couldn’t be that dumb, or could he?  He took my hand, walked me over to the room farthest from the living room and opened the bedroom door.  There was not one, not ten, but the entire room was filled with pots of weed.  The windows were covered with foil, and the room was lit up.  But for the blacked-out windows, it could be seen from the space station.  He then walked me over to bedroom number two and it was identical to the first.  If I hadn’t seen this with my own eyes, I would not have believed it.  I had heard of people growing pot in their house, but I never thought I would end up in one of these houses.  How could his neighbors not know?  Why didn’t anyone turn him in?  Unfortunately, the answers to my questions were quickly answered. 

While Craig was proudly showing me his horticultural skills there was a knock on the screen door.  Craig didn’t even bother closing the door.  He excused himself, went to the door and actually made a drug dealing transaction right in front of me.  He was the neighborhood weed supplier.  How the fuck did I end up here with this man?  I knew I had to leave and I knew I had to play cool.  After all, I didn’t want him to hurt me or even worse kill me if I gave him the impression I was going to go to the cops.  I had to come up with a plan, and I had to do so quickly.  The plan I devised was to pretend my cousin text me and I had to go pick her up because she was too drunk to drive.  He would totally believe me, he knew she was a lightweight and couldn’t drive after one drink.  We returned to the couch and he thought it was a great idea to play his guitar for me.  I just wanted to run out of the house, but I played cool.  I listened to him play his guitar and was slowly reaching for my phone to commence implementation of my escape plan.  Craig got up put the guitar down and excused himself to the bathroom.  Crap!  I would have to wait a few more minutes…unless…fuck this shit!  As soon as he closed the bathroom door, I grabbed my purse and my shoes and ran out the door barefoot.  I threw everything into my car and peeled out. 

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A Taylor Swift Letter To My Ex

This is not my normal articulate writing. I’m beyond embarrassed that I gave this broken man who only saw me as a sugar momma an ounce of my attention and time. This is literally a purge of shit I want to release about a shit human, who deserves to be with shit humans and I am not a shit human. For those of you who don’t know the real story about what happened with my ex, and are thinking this bitch is crazy for writing this letter, my words of advice to you, don’t be a manipulative, immature asshole and you have nothing to worry about. I attempted to be the mature one and have a cordial conversation so we could remain friends but that isn’t possible when there is only one adult in a relationship. He is the Blocking Bandit and his solution to avoid accountability is to block people, and it is a manipulative, immature way to deal with life. Trust me when I tell you, his solution to dealing with everything was to run away, gaslight, or block. Blocking someone for no reason or the simple fact that they don’t want to date you, is an attempt to muzzle them. Blocking people is a reflection of your flawed character. I’m a communicator, I refuse to be muzzled. Confrontation requires emotional maturity and he hasn’t grown the fuck up. Dodging a simple conversation, shows a lack of basic human decency. It’s easier to vanish than to value someone. In a world full of ghosts be someone who communicates, its rare, its respectable and its sexy as hell. Having a tough conversation requires two things you lack, maturity and courage. Stop being a fucking coward. Everyone walks on eggshells around you. Stop storming off when you are not getting your way. I will never understand your shit behavior because I’m not a shitty human and would never treat people the way you do. Thank you for proving to me that you were not worthy of me. If I am going to be blocked, I want to make sure I earn it. Here goes the truth.

I want to start with the one thing you said that I should have listened to…you told me you are undatable and you are correct. But not only because you live with your mommy and daddy at 40, but because of your grumpy, arrogant, angry, dismissive, extremely competitive personality. Dating you was like being in a relationship with a fucking wall, unless you wanted something, then you were super nice. Congratulations, you win the prize for boyfriend who couldn’t care less about his girlfriend. What an accomplishment. Stop wearing your trauma as a badge of honor. You’re so broken and it is so obvious. Acting like you’re unbothered is a wall to protect you from people seeing how weak you are. It’s not a strength, it is a defense mechanism to live in your own prison walls. I made the mistake of dating your potential and quickly learned that I cannot expect any depth from someone so shallow.

Apparently, you’re giving people the impression that you were willing and wanted to pay for the golf clubs I bought you. Frankly, I would love to be paid for the golf clubs ($2,643), golf lesson ($150), and golf fitting ($250), since I only got them for you as a thank you for building my wine bar, which you conveniently told me you didn’t have time to build it the day after I paid for your golf clubs. if you’re wondering why I gave you the golf clubs, it’s because I have integrity and I keep my word. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it. I know you have zero understanding of that concept. I cannot believe you had your friends try to buy them from me for you…actually I guess after everything I have learned about you, it is consistent with your shit personality. Also, I’m not quite sure why I got stuck with your bill in Mexico. I never offered or intended on paying for your round of golf ($310), massage ($300), or shirt ($150). That doesn’t include all the other things I paid for. Funny how on our trip to Mexico you complained that Cameron made you pay for everything in London and you did the same to me. I did not buy you stuff to manipulate you. You’re so oblivious to your own bad behavior. Now, I see how blocking someone can effectively prevent you from any accountability. So, please feel free to Venmo me for the things I did not intend on giving you for free. Despite what you told your friends, I never wanted to be your sugar momma. That is so offensive. Also, it is not a flex. It is very pathetic that you used me to buy you things. You should have more self respect than to take advantage of someone. You didn’t just lose your sugar momma, you lost an amazing, kind, thoughtful, generous, fun person who is so out of your league you knew there was no way you could keep me.

Also, I tried to be kind to you so we could have a cordial friendship, which you, a dismissive avoidant, grandiose narcissist could never do. I got tired of being told I’m unreasonable, by the most insecure, unreasonable, grumpy, always tired, man child who complains about EVERYTHING and everyone! So, here goes the truth.

Diane is too good for you. This whole bullshit that you would never date her because she’s a hot mess, she’s too much and she reminds you of your sister who’s crazy, is insanity. You literally live at home with your parents like a teenager. She is a successful, beautiful human who deserves a man to treat her like the queen she is! What I find equally as funny, as I find disturbing, is the fact that everyone Diane dated, you told her to block them for things that I disliked about you. The guy has body odor, “Block Him!” Guess what, so do you! I even told you multiple times. It literally lingered in my house. I got tired of washing my fucking sheets! You should really invest in cologne and deodorant. I spent $150 on a shirt for you at the Padres game because you smelled awful at 11 am. I cannot believe I had to practically beg you to brush your teeth before bed. That’s hygiene 101, you know 5-year-olds already have that on their hygiene regime. The guy lives with his parents and lied about it, “Block Him!” again, so do you! No one is fooled by your excuse that you are supporting your parents. When they bought the house, you couldn’t afford to support them. Before we started dating, I asked you if you lived close to your parents and you said, “you could say that” conveniently leaving out the fact that you fucking live with them until almost a month later. Also, picking your nose and rolling it off your finger in your car is gross and it was fucking vile when you did it IN MY CAR! It was literally one of the grossest things I have ever witnessed, and you did it TWICE before I offered you a tissue. I’m pretty sure you would tell Diane to block the nose picker. While these are gross, they aren’t reasons you block someone. Stop using blocking as your way to not deal with acting like an adult, you’re 40! Grow the fuck up! I cannot believe I dated someone who lives with their parents, that I had to convince to brush his teeth. I really need to have some standards.

Kyle is actually a very nice guy. Who gives a fuck what he does for a living. Stop judging your friends. So what if he is trying to meet women while playing pickleball. At least he has a giant heart and wants to share his life with someone. Any woman would be lucky to have him in her life. He’s too good for you and all the shit you talk about him! Kyle is absolutely correct; you need to use your fucking tongue when you kiss. My advice is to spend at least 80 hours asking Kyle how you can improve this area of your life. Kyle is way better than dating a fucking wall like you!

You have nothing nice to say about anyone except yourself. Yes, we all know you think you’re the best pickleball player, you could have played professional ping pong, you almost became a professional pool player, you can putt a fucking golf ball (not better than me when I wanted to show you I can actually kick your ass and didn’t give a fuck about your fragile ego). Who cares about any of this, “could’ve” is not the same as actually doing it. Stop bragging about the stupid sports you can play and start being a kinder human, that’s what we are all impressed by. By the way, your golf-baseball swing sucked before I got your ass help, thanks to Noah at the Golf Garage you’re now playing golf and not baseball. You’re the one who should have been blocked for contacting my client three times about the golf clubs. You made him so uncomfortable he kept calling me to see how he could get you to stop. That’s legit crazy bitch shit. You’re not any better at golf than Tim. But Tim is a kind human. You literally treated me like you are better than me in everything in life. The only thing you’re better at than me are sports, news flash…you are a man, okay a giant boy, but you are inherently going to be better at sports than your fucking girlfriend! Also, it was pretty obvious why you couldn’t “carry me” and we always started losing after 4 pickleball games. Everyone knows why…but I’ll leave the answer for you to figure out on your own. The way you berate the people you play pickleball with is disgusting. You actually believe you are better than everyone. You may be a 4.5 pickleball player, but your personality is a 2.0 out of 100. You have a shit ton of work to do in every other department in your life. Pull up your big boy Underoos and get your shit together. You storming out when your girlfriend is setting a boundary about your shitty behavior is extraordinarily unattractive and immature.

Allow me to now move on to why you were delusional during our relationship and what the “disconnect” I was referring to was. I will gladly go in chronological order.

First, you lied to me and everyone about owning your own house. You live with your parents. You lied to me about living alone for 7-8 years. You are a spoiled man child. You’re not doing a good job “supporting” your parents, refinancing and second mortgages are supporting them.

On Valentines Day you came to my house, and as a Valentines gift you sharpened my knives. You literally said, “I was going to buy you flowers, but I could do that anytime, so I decided to sharpen your knives.” To which I replied, I am buying a new set next month. Yea, in true Jason fashion, you ignored me and proceeded to sharpen 2 of my knives for an hour. Again, if I needed them sharpened, that would have been very thoughtful, but I literally told you, ‘I AM BUYING NEW KNIVES!” You just cannot listen. You do what you want, and I’m supposed to be happy with a mediocre boyfriend who doesn’t listen. Oh and you never bought me flowers, because that requires thinking about some one other than yourself and it takes actual effort. Showing up to pick me up 15-120 minutes late and picking the restaurant is NOT considered thoughtful. That’s not even mediocre. It’s below bare minimum effort. I deserve better!

You are always late. When you tell someone you will be there at 5:30, that doesn’t mean you text them at 5:30 and say you’ll be late, only to keep texting every 15 minutes about how you’ll be even later. If this was a once or twice or even a half dozen time occurrence, it wouldn’t be a problem. But this was an everyday occurrence for you. You are not important, you are inconsiderate. Successful, important people are always early. You should’ve followed my example, you know how I am successful and always early. Yea, try that for a change.

On February 26, I was trying to have a conversation with you about how I wanted to date other men because you my dear were not cutting it with your bare minimum efforts and I was already tired of your constant complaining. I was merely easing into the conversation when I said, we aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, and we can date other people. Two days later, I tried to finish the conversation and you literally gaslit me into being your girlfriend. Allow me to refresh your recollection, since you like to pretend you’re an attorney. When I brought it up again, you said, “I told you, you’re my girlfriend.” I was shocked and replied “you told me? Aren’t you supposed to ask me? Is that what the kids are doing these days?” You got upset and gaslit me by claiming I didn’t remember. I felt bad for you and didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but I assure you, wanting to be your girlfriend couldn’t have been farther from my desires. I didn’t say anything because I knew you would get angry and have your little mantrum. I thought, it’s not like he’s moving in with me. So I let it go. Imagine my frustrations when you repeatedly accused me of trying to get you to move in with me. The fact that you did not live with me was literally my sense of relief when I had to deal with you.

When I bought my house, you repeatedly told me you want to be my project manager on my renovations. Out of obligation, and your assurances that it would save me money, I used your dad as my electrician. I spoke with multiple electricians, and they all said I was grossly overcharged. What a great boyfriend you were taking advantage of me. You forced a situation where your dad and my contractor would only communicate with you, despite my repeated requests for you to stop being the middleman. You are a horrible communicator, why would I choose you to communicate what I want to do to two people who I was speaking with daily? Your refusal to stop acting like you owned my house, and your attempt to fire my contractor without ever speaking with me about it were more examples of how you overstepped, trampled on my boundaries and just would not listen to me. When I asked you to stop, you literally told me I was being unreasonable. You constantly dismissed my feelings. I did not need your help with the renovations! Once you got out of the way, I was able to get all of the work done.

You are a horrible communicator. Honestly, I am not sure what the fuck is wrong with you and why you grunt so much. Seriously, grow up Bam Bam and use your fucking words. It’s not cute. It is extremely challenging to be around someone who doesn’t know how to communicate.

You were horrible to Ashesh at the pickleball tournament. You did not carry him. You both made mistakes, you both played well. Oh and you totally sandbagged which is why you won first place, let’s call a spade a spade here. You were also horrible to me during our tournament. When I pointed out how mean the guy who won first place was to his partner, it was because I wanted to see if you even realized you treat me the same way he treated his partner. Nope, you were oblivious. Which reminds me, you and I did a 4.0 mixed doubles tournament and won 3^rd. You barely gave a shit. Did you say, “great job Laila”. Nope. Instead, you were upset because you believed we should have won first. Well, here’s some more food for thought. In a double’s tournament, the female usually gets targeted, which I was. Two of the games we lost, you barely hit the ball. Maybe you could work on moving a little closer to the center and help? One of the games we lost, you were targeted and you kept fucking up. But you never talk about that, do you? Instead, you literally criticized me and never reflect on your own mistakes. When I repeatedly asked you why you compliment everyone else but me when we play pickleball, your excuse was because they need compliments and I don’t. I don’t even understand that stupid fucking logic. After we broke up, I had multiple people tell me that they felt bad for me because they thought you were horrible to me when we played pickleball. I must admit, I was so embarrassed for myself because I cannot believe I dated a man who would treat me that way, especially over pickleball. Worst part is, there is nothing special about you. I am so fucking out of your league.

You never cared to ask me anything about me. When I asked you why, your excuse was that I would tell you what I wanted you to know. How fucking self-centered and arrogant are you? You cannot be bothered to care about anyone but yourself. That’s below mediocre.

You constantly told me you were going to do things and didn’t do them. In fact, it became a bit of a joke with my friends. Jason said he’s going to do X…Laila did you already set the back up plan in place? YUP! I literally had my backup plan waiting for you to say you’re not doing or breaking another promise, which was 80% of the time. I didn’t even need your help, but your fragile ego and need to be important and your condescending way of speaking to me coupled with my lack of desire to argue with you made me just tolerate your lack of integrity. Your words literally have no value to me. Were there times when you helped me? Absolutely, one major one comes to mind. When my carpet company said I had to remove the hard floors, your dad and you jumped right on it and spent 5 back breaking hours working on removing my floors. I have a sneaky suspicion it was likely because I was going to cancel the trip to Oregon and delay buying your golf clubs if I had to find a contractor. But, even if that was not it, you fucked up my floors! You had no business telling me you could do the work. I cannot imagine how much it will cost me to fix it! Oh and I could have had the work done CORRECTLY for $700 not the $2,000 I paid you and your dad, which you told me would be the cost if I hired someone. I cannot believe you were actually getting paid for the work and you didn’t tell me. Congratulations, you took advantage of your girlfriend.

You constantly criticized me and my stuff as well as tried to insult my job. Remember when you told me I don’t understand the importance of your super-duper important job because unlike you I don’t have a 9-5 job? Yea, well news flash asshole, I have a 5 am to 9 pm job. Just because I can effectively do my job, make great money and run circles around you all day and night, doesn’t mean your job is more difficult or important than mine. Also, if you’re so important at your company, why do you get all the shit rolls downhill work? Just some food for thought. None of us are fooled by your self-importance. Stop complaining about your job and how much work you have to do, we are all tired of hearing you complain!

Your constant criticisms of me were noticed by so many people. You also routinely criticized me by suggesting your EVERYTHING is better than mine, you do EVERYTHING better than me. Since when did dating become a competition? Why the fuck are you competing with me ALL THE TIME! Actually, why the fuck are you competing with everyone all the time? My poor sister couldn’t say 2 words without you turning it into a competition. Her chili is way better than yours! She actually found you very annoying, exhausting and mean. She was so disturbed by the fact that you told her it’s not your style to complement your girlfriend. Seriously? What is your style? Just spending endless hours talking about how amazing you are and spending your girlfriend’s money? Classic narc move to try to dim your girlfriend’s light. I will continue to shine. You reek of insecurities. Look around you and find something good about someone, anyone! Your house is not better than mine, your car is not better than mine, you’re not a better chef than me, your 4 grills are not better than my 1 grill, your pool table and the room it’s in are is not better than mine, your refrigerator is not better than mine, your windows are not better than mine, your pool is not better than mine, your front yard is not better than mine. It was never a competition! I have zero need or desire to compare my life and possessions to yours. You have your stuff and I have mine. I tried so hard to get you to stop competing with me by constantly complementing you so you wouldn’t feel insecure. All that got me was an even more arrogant asshole. You are NOT always right! Your cooking is not amazing, okay you have a way with corn, but you sure can fuck up and over cook lamb…just like the rest of us. You’re human. You make mistakes, own it! Humility is sexy, arrogance is ugly.

I have wanted to break up with you since February. You think you’re so amazing you actually thought I was pressuring you into moving in with me. That was one of the funnies things I have ever heard. What on earth gave you the impression I want you to live with me. You living with me would literally be me financially supporting you, cleaning and cooking for you, while I work and pay all the fucking bills. WOW what a catch! Oh my gosh, I cannot believe I lost THAT guy. You are one of the most inconsiderate people I have ever met. Telling you that you should spend the night every night because I was a little nervous about the howling cayotes is a huge stretch into now I am pressuring you to move in with me. Spending the night means you go the fuck home! How many times did I have to tell you that I would not even consider you moving in with me unless/until we dated for at least 1 year. I’m pretty sure your repeated accusations that I was trying to pressure you into moving in with me were all your attempts to gaslight me into letting you move in with me, then you’d gaslight me into believing you’re doing ME the favor and so you could live a completely upgraded life with zero contributions on your part. Also, I witnessed the way you live, I do not want that in my house.

Our trip to Mexico. Yea, that was a real eyeopener. First, I cannot believe you just sat there for an hour playing video games while I struggled to get our luggage even though you speak Spanish. I was equally frustrated with your lazy ass as I was with the hotel. Oh, and I never threw the phone…it was connected to the fucking wall dumbass. Your recollection was likely inaccurate due to the fact that you just sat there playing video games. Next, you planned the day in Cozumel. Seriously? What the fuck was that? Sara, Tim and I had to sit there on a boring ass car ride watching you drive. That’s how selfish you are. You picked a tour that revolved around YOU! Who goes to tequila tasting at 10:30 am. You’re a horrible planner. This is another example of where I knew you’d fuck it up and just had to sit back and watch because of your extremely fragile ego. Third, you suck at golf. You’re just better than the two women who have played 3 rounds of golf in over 10 years. Congratulations, what an accomplishment. I got so much pleasure out of kicking your ass in your own putting contest. You should never enter into a contest with your girlfriend who has had enough of your shit and wants to hand you your ass. The saddest part is how your fragile ego precluded you from complimenting me on my amazing putting skills. Instead, you belittled me and told me that I could never do that again. Mother fucker, I don’t have to because never in my life have I dated a man who was constantly competing with me and everyone around him and I will never do it again. It’s like you have an aversion to complementing me. That’s a direct reflection of your insecurities. Also, in the pool when you started defending the man who was an asshole to me, yea that was the moment I was 100% certain I could not continue to date you. What a fucking asshole you are. If you don’t know what actually happened, shut the fuck up and let the adults have a conversation. Also, I cannot believe you asked me why I was upset, only to tell me I am being unreasonable when I explained to you that you should not have defended the stranger over me. Oh and when you stormed off like a 7-year-old child, that was beyond unattractive. I love how you came back like a little kid because you wanted another spa treatment. For the love of God, grow the fuck up and be a man. Say you’re sorry. A little acknowledgement that you’re wrong and a smidge of humility will go a long way in your personal growth…but you admittedly have zero desire for personal growth because you think you are perfect. Perfectly ridiculous! Therapy may actually help you.

Another eyeopener was when I saw your house for the first time. You literally spent the last 8 months that I have known you bragging about how amazing your house is and how you have these amazing herbs and vegetable gardens. They’re mostly weeds. I don’t want to shame anyone for their lifestyle or cleanliness, so I’m just going to say that I was shocked at what I saw. I could not believe you kept telling me how your house was nicer than mine. I would not have cared about the fact that your house looks like it is in the middle of a DIY project if you had not constantly made me feel like my house was not nice enough for you. But after seeing your house, my only thought was “fuck no! this man will not be living with me!” I most certainly was not thinking of ways to pressure you into moving in with me.

On Sunday, the day after we got back from Oregon and I bought your full set of golf clubs, when you told me you could not build my wine bar, I saw you for who you are…a user. You knew your work schedule before we went to Oregon, yet you conveniently waited until after I paid for the entire trip to Oregon, got you a golf lesson, fitted for new golf clubs and you let me buy you 14 golf clubs and said nothing. You knew exactly why I was buying those clubs. It was because I was not paying someone to build my wine bar which I had to do and it cost me $2000. That night, when I told you let’s date other people or go back to casually dating it was because I was fucking done with you and your lack of integrity. I was done tiptoeing around your fragile manchild ego. I was done with your mantrumps. I was done with your incessant complaining. I was done with your arrogance. I was done with your delusional thinking that I was madly in love with you and that you’re so perfect. I was done with how you treated me like I meant nothing to you. I was done spending money on you. I was done with your constant mood swings. I was done with your inability to communicate. I was done with your grunting. I was done with your promises and you constantly letting me down. I was done with your flakiness. I was done with you telling me your spending the night at my house without asking me. I was done with you controlling everything. I was done making myself small, so you can feel important. I was done with your inconsiderate shit. I was done being constantly criticized. I was fucking DONE! But yet again, you did your whiny thing about how you don’t want to date anyone else…yet again, I compromised myself for you. All I wanted was to preserve our friendship. The very next day, I asked you if we break up would you still be my friend. News flash…these are not the words of a woman who wants you to move in with her…these are parting words. They are the words of a woman who is done with you.

On Friday, before your pickleball tournament, you made yourself a chicken wrap because you did not know if there would be food at the PPA tournament and you did not have the decency to make me one. Seriously though, you could have just claimed you made the one wrap for us to share. But you’re so inconsiderate and selfish you couldn’t even do that. That same day, I bought you 3 cases of your favorite water and 3 cases of SunCruisers that I don’t even drink because that is what a thoughtful, caring person does. I cooked dinner so you could rest for your tournament the next day. That was such a pivotal moment for me. Realizing you don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself.

When we got to my house after the PPA tournament, I did not want you there. I was tired of being anxious around you. You’re wrecked and tired when you’re talking to me and then you’re wide awake and excited when you’re talking to your friends. Its like being in a room with two different people. It was exhausting. When we went to bed, all I kept wanting was for you to be gone. I was grossed out by your selfishness, I totally got the ick from the nose picking. But, instead of telling you to get the fuck out. I tried to have a cordial conversation with you. Yea, it was very late and we were tired. But I was done. I could not believe your irate reaction to my question, “do you feel like there is a disconnect between us?” I was beyond shocked when you jumped out of bed, threw another mantrum and stormed downstairs. All I wanted was for us to have an adult conversation about how we are not compatible. Instead, you acted like a child with flailing arms, screaming you’re tired of me and my ups and downs. Well guess what genius, my ups were when you made promises and my downs were when you let me down, repeatedly. In fact, I think I did a great job keeping my emotions in check with all the shit I had to deal with from you. Instead of staying and talking with me, you ran away like a child and blocked me. You’re so full of yourself. There is no need to block someone who just wants to be your friend.

Everything we did was on your schedule, what you wanted to do, when and where. I got so tired of my life running around your schedule. I always felt like you thought you were doing me a favor by spending time with me. Also, you’re 40, why are you always so “wrecked” and tired?

When we started dating, I had not had any anxiety or panic attacks for 4 months. While we were dating, your constant changes in schedules, your rules of when it was appropriate for me to call or text you, your lying to me about having to work only to go out, your criticisms of me, your mood swings, and your arrogance had my poor nervous system in high gear. I was constantly anxious. Guess what, since we broke up…yea I have not had any panic attacks, and my anxiety is reduced significantly. I can fucking breathe again!

Despite all of the above, I still shipped you all of your stuff, I still gave you the golf clubs. Your arrogant, unappreciative ass could not even be bothered to thank me. Again, that’s a reflection of who you are. Your parents should’ve taught you better. Apparently, when children were learning manners and dental hygiene, you were not paying attention. When we first broke up, I really did want us to remain friends. But after you stalked Noah, when I asked you not to, after you blocked me like a man-child, and after you couldn’t even say thank you, I realized I don’t want people like YOU, in MY life. So, I thank you for making it soo easy for me to walk away. Thank you for showing me your true colors. Thank you for ensuring I have zero regrets of this relationship ending. Thank you for showing me who YOU are is not someone I want or need around me.

I have so much respect for Diane. She has standards. She only dates men who are her equal or better. You’re my last charity project. I’m following Diane’s rules going forward. No more dating down. No more tolerating bare minimum. And no more dating a man-child. I deserve better than a child like you.

You acted like I was not good enough for you. The reality is, you’re not good enough for me. I’m not mad at you. I just realized you can’t handle a woman like me and you’ve always known it. I’m grateful that you’re too arrogant to know how horrible you are and you made no effort to hide it once you thought you fooled me into thinking you were the prize. Your absence in my life is the prize.

I wish you well. I genuinely want you to heal. I want you to win. I want you to live a happy life. You used my generosity, kindness and thoughtfulness as a loophole to hurt me. I’m at peace with the past, and acknowledge I learned something. I want you to eat, you’re just not welcome to my table ever again. So eat well, just somewhere else. You will never have access to me again. Don’t worry, I am not under the impression that you care about anyone but yourself. I feel sorry for you that you have to live with the knowledge that you used and lost an amazing person. I learned my lesson that I even if I date someone so beneath me he won’t be smart enough to treat me the way I deserve. No more dating down for me.

My therapist told me this would be cathartic. Boy was she right! So I part with these words, don’t be a fucking asshole, and if you are an asshole have a conversation with the person and no one will write a Taylor Swift letter to you!

When life gives you lemons, Jason will tell you how he makes the best lemonade.

May you have the life you deserve.

May 25, 2026

The Adventures of Bella, Blake & Billy is a group project.  I wrote the story in 2018, my then six-year-old niece illustrated all of the pictures, my then four-year-old nephew was our creative director and helped us navigate what we should draw for our four-year-old audience.  My mom gave the pictures some love on photoshop by smoothening out the colors as well as hours and hours of manuscript size revisions. 

When my niece Julianna was six years old, she told me she wants to be an artist.  She would spend hours drawing pictures of herself, her dad Josh, mom Rahil, brother Jace, aunt Sara, uncle Tim, grandmother (my mom) Noushin, and me.  Julianna and Jace would draw pictures of the places they went on vacation or things they enjoyed doing.  It was their way of capturing their favorite moments.  I included a few of her pictures at the end of the book.

My love and passion for writing started when I was in fifth grade. I told my father I wanted to write like him, and he gave me a small journal and told me start by writing down all of my dreams first thing every morning. I woke up a few minutes early every morning and quickly jotted down my dreams using as many detail and descriptive words possessed by a ten-year-old.  I quickly progressed to writing stories I created with my own imagination.  I wrote about my favorite place I visited with my parents and sister when I was younger, the Hearst Castle and my favorite subject, mice.  I had about ten stories written with the idea that I would publish a book of short stories. 

Unfortunately, in January 1986, our house caught on fire, and we lost everything in the house, including my stories.  I remember when we went back to the house the day after the fire, I didn’t run to my room to check on my clothes or toys, I ran to check on my books.  I was devastated that they were gone.  Outside of school projects, I didn’t write again until I was thirteen.  It has always been what seemed like an unattainable dream to become an author of a published book.  My entire adult life has been consumed by either college, law school, work, or both.  But, after 35 years my dream of becoming a published author has finally come to fruition!  Stay tuned for my adult books!

I self-published The Adventures of Bella, Blake & Billy.  I’ve heard people mock those who self-publish as not being real authors.  But, after all the hard work, sweat and many, many tears of frustration trying to put a book together, I have even more respect for self-published authors.  Trying to navigate photoshop and manuscripts when my skills are limited to words on a page and not creating entire books, was a monumental feat.  My mom, Noushin spent six to eight hours a day for the last four days helping me get the logistics correct.  Without her, this project would not have been finished.  Charity Ayres walked me through the “how to” even start process, without her this project would not have even begun.  I’m eternally grateful to both of them for their help, support, and encouragement. 

If you’d like a copy, here is the link on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09983MHWN/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

If you’d like a copy signed by the author and illustrators, please Venmo $20 to @Laila-Khosroabadi and email me your address and your special note you’d like to add to your book at lailak818@yahoo.com.

Thank you!

I like to add my avocado to my pico de gallo for fun. Then use on tacos or a tortilla chip.

Ingredients

2 avocados

1/4 cup chopped red onion

1/4 cup chopped cilatro

1/4 chopped jalapeno

1/2 cup chopped fresh tomatoes

2 limes

This recipe is so simple and quick you can make it anytime. Just take all of the ingredients and add them together. Add salt and pepper. If you are adverse to spice, reduce or eliminate the jalapeno.

I used it on my taco, it was a simple ground beef taco with low carb tortillas.

8 Lamb Chops

Rub Ingredients

2 tablespoon ground coriander seed

2 teaspoon smoked paprika

2 teaspoon ground cumin

2 tablespoon dry thyme

2 tablespoon ground dry lemon

2 teaspoon black pepper

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup olive oil

Preheat the grill on high.  Mix the rub ingredients together and rub it on the lamb. I use a technique to get the rub on the lamb without wasting. I place a small amount of rub on the lamb and using a small silicone grilling brush I dip the brush in the olive oil and spread the rub evenly on the lamb. 

You want the grill to be very hot so that you can grill the lamb quickly.  I suggest grilling it medium rare to medium.  Because this lamb is fatty and you added olive oil, the goal is to sear the fat without overcooking the lamb.  That will be accomplished by using high heat for a short period of time.  Grill on one side for 2 minutes and flip.  Flip them so they are grilled for 4 minutes on each side.  Keep an eye out for flare ups too.

Ingredients Burrata Dip

4 Burrata balls sliced

1/2 cup basil julienned

4 cups cherry tomatoes sliced in half

1/2 cup walnuts chopped

4 table spoons basil olive oil

1/2 cup peach balsamic vinegar

Ingredients Garlic Baguette

4 cloves fresh garlic minced

1 French baguette sliced 1/4 inch thick

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Burrata Dip Instructions

Use a shallow bowl so you can place the Burrata flat on the bottom. I sometimes use a serving dish instead of a bowl. Place sliced Burrata in the center leaving about an inch space between each ball. Place the tomatoes around the Burrata, not on top. Sprinkle the basil on top of the Burrata and tomatoes. Drizzle the basil olive oil sparingly on the tomatoes and Burrata. Drizzle the peach balsamic vinegar on the tomatoes. I don’t drizzle any of the oil or balsamic vinegar on the Burrata so that the flavor of the cheese is not over powered by the oil and vinegar. Add the nuts evenly on top.

Garlic Baguette Instructions

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Using a silicone food brush, brush a thin layer of olive oil and drizzle a small amount of garlic on each slice of baguette and place in the oven. The baguettes should be slightly toasted in about 8-10 minutes.

*I use We Olive Peach Balsamic Vinegar and Basil Olive Oil.

Ingredients

Chicken pieces bone in with skin

Nut Crumbs

Cooking Spray

This recipe is very simple, you don’t need to measure anything.  I typically use bone in chicken thighs with skin, but you can use any type of chicken you like.  Keep in mind the chicken skin will create that extra delicious crunch.  You want the chicken to be a little moist, not too watery because the crumbs will fall off.    

You can also use Nut Crumbs that are gluten free, Paleo, Vegan, Keto and Sugar free and tastes delicious.  If you want something that’s bread based, Progresso has a great Italian breadcrumbs seasoning.  You’ll follow the same process.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  Use an oven tray and spray it with cooking spray.  You want to cover it well with the cooking spray.  This will prevent the chicken from sticking to the tray.  I use aluminum foil so its easy to clean as well.  Either way, get a good coat of the cooking spray on the tray.  Take each piece of chicken one at a time and place it in a bowl pour some of the nut crumbs on one side, make sure the entire area is covered, turn the chicken around and cover the other side with crumbs and place it on the oven tray skin side up.  Repeat this with all of the chicken.  When you lift the chicken some of the crumbs will fall off.  Then add some extra crumbs to the top of each piece so that they are completely covered.  Spray the top of the chicken with cooking spray.  Again, make sure the entire top of the chicken is covered with the spray, that’s what will add the extra crispiness.  Bake for 45 minutes.  Serve and enjoy!

I’m sorry,

Ripping…tearing…

It will never happen again.

I’m sorry,

Shattering…cracking…

The words pierce my skin.

I’m sorry,

Snapping…splitting…

Please understand.

I’m sorry,

Hesitation…dispense…

I didn’t mean to hurt you.

I’m sorry,

Observing…listening…remembering…

The words he says.

I wrote this poem in an English class when I was in college.  That was at least two decades ago.  At the time I wrote it, I thought I knew the value of an apology.  I thought it was a step toward forgiveness and healing.  I thought saying “I’m sorry” would fix everything.  But today I realize I was young and naïve.  An apology doesn’t always make someone feel better. They aren’t designed to heal. Instead, it is an acknowledgment.  Some apologies acknowledge a bad or mean behavior.  Some apologies admit something. Some apologies are thrown around when an apology isn’t even warranted.  One thing all apologies do is invoke an emotion.  I don’t hold grudges.  In fact, I pride myself on my ability to forgive swiftly and completely.  However, I never thought an apology would enrage me while simultaneously breaking my heart.

Last year, in the middle of a deadly pandemic, I met a wonderful man.  A kind, thoughtful, generous, goofy man whom I quickly grew to love and adore.  We had an impulsive and fleeting romance; you know the kind they write bestselling novels and block buster movies about.  And yes, you guessed it, the kind that ends tragically. 

The tragedy isn’t a result of someone dying or some unforeseen turn of events that precludes two lovers from being together.  The tragedy is a direct result of one person sabotaging himself. You see it happening.  You know exactly where it is headed, but like watching a bad car accident, you’re powerless in changing the outcome.  Not because you’re idly standing by.  You’re doing everything you can to prevent it, you frantically turn the wheel, you slam on the breaks all to avoid inevitable doom.  But you my darling are not driving.  You have no control over the wheel, their thoughts, their actions, their behavior, their foreseen trajectory.  All you can do is stand there in utter disbelief and watch as the wreckage takes place right before your eyes. Every single day for six long, drawn out, painful weeks, that’s what I witnessed.  More candidly, that’s what I lived through. 

For six weeks, I was criticized for everything I did, said, didn’t do, didn’t say.  My entire existence was brutally judged.  Throughout it all, I stood my ground.  I stayed true to myself.  Mostly because I don’t know how to be anyone else.  I don’t know how to act different.  Being myself meant I had to pick me.  I had to stand my ground and demand that I am treated exactly as I deserve and accept nothing less.  I couldn’t waver, not for one second.  Because if I don’t know how I deserve to be treated, no one will know how to treat me. 

As you probably predicted, as accurately as you can predict a spinning car will hit anything in its path, the relationship ended as swiftly as it began.  I had no emotions, no tears, no sadness. After six weeks of relentless criticisms, I could no longer love this man. Instead, I was annoyed at the inconvenience of having moved twelve hundred miles and the knowledge that I had to piece my life back together again after six excruciating weeks of what felt like six years in the Twilight Zone.  Since his self-sabotage started immediately after I moved in, I had six weeks to process everything.  I was convinced that I was processing it all very well.  

I subsequently discovered the reason of his self-sabotage. On some days it enraged me.  On most days it gave me solace that I had no control over the outcome.  We were clearly in route to the path of destruction from the day we met.  The short version is, he wasn’t honest with himself or me. 

After I left, we had numerous conversations related to the logistics of my move.  He was once again kind, thoughtful, generous, and extra helpful.  At first, I thought it was all out of desperation to get rid of me.  Until one day it dawned on me and I sent him a text that said, “I guess you did actually love me”.  His reply was simple and precise “no question”.  My heart stung at the sight of those words.  Hours later he said the infamous phrase, “I’m sorry I failed”.  That was the first time he apologized.  I hadn’t been expecting or waiting for an apology.  

For over five minutes, I read the words over and over again expecting them to change right before my eyes.  Each time I read it, it felt like a hammer was smashing my heart into tiny, stabbing fragments.  Part of me wanted him to take it back.  I didn’t want him to acknowledge he did something wrong.  I wanted to go on believing he was oblivious to what happened.  That he too was in the Twilight Zone watching powerlessly, unable to change the outcome.  I wanted him to feel like me.

My blinding tears coupled with my shaking hands made responding an arduous task.  I simply thanked him for his apology and assured him that I appreciate it.  Over the next few days, his first apology morphed into a second even more sincere apology, followed by a long conversation about what went wrong.  I mustered up the courage to ask him if there was anything I could’ve done different, better.  I expected a painful, critical thesis of all the ways I could have saved our relationship.  His response wasn’t what I anticipated and has left me confused, “I don’t think so, you were true to who you are.”  

On the one hand, I am thoroughly pleased with and proud of myself for my unwavering conviction…but on the other, I’m confused and saddened by that fact.  I know he means I was honest.  He could’ve done better.  He could’ve singlehandedly changed the trajectory of our future, by simply not lying.  So, when I read and hear the words “I’m sorry” in this situation, it doesn’t give me solace…instead there is a ripping, tearing, shattering, cracking, snapping, and splitting of my heart. 

Here’s to spicy spring nights! Cheers!

The first time I made this recipe, I added a tad too much cayenne and it was super spicy.  I would caution to add less and if it’s not spicy enough increase the cayenne.  Keep in mind, the longer it cooks the more the flavors of the spicy will come out.  While you’ll start on the stove, most of the cooking is done in the oven.

2 pounds chicken

1 pound baby potatoes skin on cut in halves

6 large carrots or 1/2 pound baby carrots

1 leak sliced in rings

1/2 cup chopped onions

1/3 cup lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon turmeric

1/2 teaspoon cumin

1 tablespoon cayenne

1 tablespoon paprika

1 tablespoon pepper

1/2 teaspoon salt

16 ounces water

Preheat the oven to 425.  Add all of the ingredients into a large pot and stir until combined.  Then add the chicken.  On the stove, bring to a boil.  Once it is boiling, cover it with a lid and move it to the oven for 1 hour.  You’ll know it is done when the chicken easily separates.

My inspiration for including cooking and recipes in my blog are my two sisters, Rahi and Sara. I love them to death, but I just don’t know how they didn’t pick up my recipes after 28 years of living together. Okay, I only cooked for Sara 14 years, but I cooked regularly. By regularly I mean 5-6 days a week. Rahi, my older sister and I shopped weekly. We went to the grocery store together and picked up what I…I mean we…wanted to cook for that week. We did this for at least 8 years. Sara is ten years younger than I, so she was still living with our mom. I figured our weekly adventures to the grocery store, where Rahi pushed the shopping cart in a completely different isle than I was located with my hands full of groceries hunting down the cart, would soak in. Boy, was I wrong.

Once I moved out Rahi’s daily diet consisted of fast food, restaurants and anything cooked by anyone except Rahi. Truthfully, I was clueless as to how little Rahi retained until approximately 6 months before her wedding. Rahi has always been a size 2 or less, but in 2009 she wanted to lose a few pounds for her wedding. I suggested she stop eating out and start cooking at home. When she confided in me that she just didn’t know what to buy at the grocery store, I was a little dumbfounded. But, because my sisters mean the world to me, I agreed to drive 140 miles to help her do some grocery shopping.

We started out in the produce section and I began asking her what fruits and vegetables she likes. She could only identify a few.  I started explaining to her how other vegetables could be used in foods for variety and flavor. I noticed she was very quiet. My own moment of enlightenment came when I looked over at Rahi and she was so overwhelmed she had tears trickling down her face. Two thoughts went through my mind, first, why on earth is she crying.  Then I realized this is more complicated than it seems. I take cooking for granted because I have been doing it for so long and I really am very passionate about it.  With each recipe I am in heaven working in diligently in my kitchen. But, the reality is that if I didn’t have my experience, I would feel overwhelmed like I do when I pop the hood of my car.

I am also inspired by Sara. She enjoys cooking and she is great at it.  But, she lacks the ability to come up with a new recipe. Which I am learning is pretty common. However, once I give Sara a few items on a recipe she is great at cooking it and sometimes even puts her own twist to it, which makes me so proud. Thanks to Sara, I finally get to share my recipes on a large scale. Sara is like me and unlike Rahi. We don’t have the metabolism of a size zero and we have to watch what we eat.  I often get to cook something healthy and bounce the idea off her because she understands when I don’t want to sacrifice taste for healthy. While most of my recipes are healthy, it is not always the case. Come on a girl needs her cheat nights…I mean night… right?

I think understanding me is the key to understanding my cooking and the madness that goes behind it. First, I have to emphasize that cooking for me is my way of relaxing. It helps me unwind. Second, I believe in my ingredients. I will never use a mediocre ingredient and I will always guide you to the best. The best is not necessarily the most expensive. I am also the crazy lady who will go to 3 different grocery stores to pick up the ingredients, feel free to stick to one store. My countless hours of cooking have given me the ability to try a food and recreate it, thanks to the help of my friends and family who act as my victim…err…volunteer “tasters”.  I often do just that. This keeps my menu exciting and keeps it from becoming boring. I have a huge shortfall, which is my inability to cook less than 4 servings, but I will do my best.

Pour yourself a glass of wine and let’s get cooking!!!

Here’s to stepping outside the oven. Cheers!

I saw a leg of lamb at Costco and it was calling my name.  I had never made leg of lamb, but I recall from seeing it at restaurants that it is usually roasted.  I decided to get adventurous and grill it.  However, I had to do a little trick.  I sliced the leg of lamb into 2 inch thick pieces and grilled it.  It was impressively delicious.

2 pounds sliced leg of lamb

Rub Ingredients

2 tablespoon ground coriander seed

2 teaspoon smoked paprika

2 teaspoon ground cumin

2 tablespoon dry thyme

2 tablespoon ground dry lemon

2 teaspoon black pepper

1 teaspoon salt

Preheat the grill on high.  Mix the rub ingredients together and rub it on the lamb.  You want the grill to be very hot so that you can grill the lamb quickly.  I suggest grilling it medium rare to medium.  Because this cut is fatty the goal is to sear the fat without overcooking the lamb.  That will be accomplished by using high heat for a short period of time.  Grill on one side for 4 minutes and flip.  Flip them so they are grilled for 4 minutes on each side twice.  Keep an eye out for flare ups too.

A side dish suggestion that goes great with this dish is grilled zucchini.

6 zucchini cut in half the long way, as seen in the picture

Lightly salt and pepper and place on the grill skin side down first.  Grill for 4 minutes and flip.  Grill for another 4 minutes.

 

Here’s to taking things slow.  Cheers!

I love lamb, but if you don’t cook it properly it can be a real disaster.  With lamb shanks, you have to cook it for a long time.  It’s not done until the meat falls off the bones.  It can take anywhere 3-4 hours.  For this recipe, just give yourself a lot of time.  Maybe make it on a day where you’ll be home relaxing or taking care of other things.  It’s totally worth the wait.

6 lamb shanks

1/2 yellow onion

3 cans stewed whole or half tomatoes

1 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon pepper

1 tablespoon turmeric

Optional: 3 small potatoes cut in half

Place the lamb and half onion in a large pot and add water until all of the lamb is covered.   Bring to a boil.  Reduce heat to medium and cover.  Let it cook for 3-4 hours.  Make sure you check on it every 30-40 minutes to ensure the water is not evaporating too fast.

Peel the eggplant and cut into 2 inch circles.  Fry the eggplant.  I use coconut oil to fry the eggplant.  You’ll notice that the eggplant soaks up the oil really quickly.  You’ll need a lot of oil.  You’re not deep frying it so, there should only be enough oil to keep the eggplant from burning.  Once the eggplant is partially cooked the oil will drain out.  So if this is your first time frying eggplant don’t worry.  When the eggplant is browned flip it over and fry the other side.  When you’re done frying all of the eggplant, set aside. You will be adding it to the stew once the lamb is tender and falling off the bone.

When the lamb is cooked, which you’ll know by easily trying to separate it from the bone.  If it separates easily, it is cooked.  Remove the onion.  Make sure there is some water in the pot about 1/4 of the way covering the lamb.  Then add the tomatoes and place the eggplant on top.  Cover and let cook for 30 minutes.

My two favorite ingredients, which I always have in my kitchen and have been known to travel with are Olive Oil and Balsamic Vinegar.  People are always confused about both of these ingredients.  I will try to clear any confusion you may have regarding these ingredients.

The darker the olive oil, the stronger the flavor.  The method in which the oil is processed is what determines if it is extra virgin olive oil.  Olive oil is also best used fresh.  It doesn’t age well.  I recommend using the robust olive oil for dishes like pasta, or when you drizzle it on your vegetables.  Use a lighter olive oil for salads or bread dips.

Most people think there is only one flavor balsamic vinegar.  If you haven’t tasted different types of balsamic vinegars, you are really missing out.  I use balsamic vinegar to marinating steaks as well as for common uses such as a salad dressing.  Once you get a few delicious balsamic vinegars the sky is the limit.

The quality of your olive oil and balsamic vinegar are not directly related to the price.  I have spent obscene amounts of money on these only to be completely disappointed.  If you want a delicious salad dressing or a fantastic pasta sauce, you cannot start with a subpar major ingredient.  Both olive oil and balsamic vinegar are essential to the flavors of your dish.  Think of them as your supporting actor.  They make a significant difference.

I know many people who claim they are olive oil and balsamic vinegar snobs and spend $30 or more on a bottle on something that is barely mediocre.  I was always on the hunt to find that perfect olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  You know the one you taste at your favorite restaurant and when you try to make the salad dressing or bread dip at home, it never tastes the same?  Well, it’s simple, you don’t have a quality olive oil or balsamic vinegar necessary.  Thanks to We Olive you can.

I discovered We Olive on a trip to Santa Barbara.  The We Olive store was filled with barrels of olive oil and balsamic vinegar varieties that they make.  They use sustainable farming practices which is another plus.  They also have bottles from other companies, but I never waste my time on those.  You can taste each of the different flavors before purchasing.  They do allow you to take your own containers or buy one of theirs.  I recommend buying one of theirs.  However, when I lived over three hours away from the closest We Olive store, I purchased gallon size glass bottles and filled those babies up.  It is not cheap, but it’s completely worth it.  If you don’t live anywhere near a We Olive, don’t worry, they have a website http://www.weolive.com.

My staples that I always buy are the Aged Balsamic Vinegar and the Arbequina Olive Oil and I use these for salad.  I also like the Mission Olive Oil for drizzling over pasta, vegetables or dipping sauces.  With respect to balsamic vinegar, I use the peach and blackberry for salad dressings too.  the Peach Balsamic goes great with fish and chicken and the Blackberry Balsamic is great with beef or lamb.

 

Here’s to wowing your dinner guests while appealing to everyone’s taste buds. Cheers!

This recipe is a favorite by everyone who has ever tried it. I eat it with a side salad or basmati rice. I also like to use boneless, skinless chicken thighs because they stay juicy when you grill them. One great thing you can do with this recipe is make the marinade and add it to chicken, place it in a freezer zip lock bag or Tupperware and freeze it. Then when you’re ready to cook it just defrost it in the refrigerator and while it is defrosting it will marinade. There are a few options to cooking this marinade, which I will share with you.

2 pounds chicken
1 white onion grated
¼ tsp turmeric
¼ cup dry parsley
1 TBS paprika
2 cups lemon juice
Salt and pepper to taste

Grill
Combine all ingredients and marinade 4-24 hours. Heat grill and place chicken directly on the grill. If your grill has 2 shelves, place them on the top shelf, otherwise if it is directly on the fire lower the heat to medium. I like to turn my chicken every 4-5 minutes until cooked.

Broil

The other option is to use the marinade to broil a whole chicken. You need an oven safe dish that the chicken fits into completely. Place the chicken breast side down. Then add the marinade over the chicken. Cook the chicken according to weight. However, approximately 15 minutes before the chicken is done, carefully turn the chicken over and allow the breast to turn a golden brown color.

Salad

I typically like my salads to look like a box of crayons. However, the flavor of the chicken is so delicious that I keep my salad simple for this meal.

2 Cups mixed green
½ avocado sliced
¼ cups shredded carrots or 8 baby carrots chopped
8 cherry tomatoes cut in halves
2 TBS olive oil
3 TBS peach balsamic vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste

Here’s to stepping out of your comfort zone and trying Lamb. Cheers!

This is a delicious recipe, most people have either never tried lamb or have had it prepared improperly. Don’t let your past or lack of experience with Lamb scare you off.

2 cups plane whole milk yogurt
3 teaspoons dried crushed mint
½ yellow onion chopped
4 garlic cloves
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon pepper
Juice of 1 lime
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
2 lbs lamb chops/shoulders

Here’s to Taco Tuesdays at home with a sure bet. Cheers!

If you’re thinking the time it takes to marinade the meat is just too long, here is my secret. I prepare the marinade and steak in advance, throw it into a freezer bag and freeze it. You just need to make sure you use freezer bags. Then when you’re ready to have Carne Asada, steak, burritos, tacos or salad just remove the bag from the freezer the day before and place it in the refrigerator to thaw and you will have yourself some great Carne Asada for the grill.

1. Flank steak 3-4 lbs
2. Smoked Paprika 4 tablespoons
3. Mexican red chili 2 tablespoons
4. 1 cup lime juice
5. 2 jalapenos
6. 1 bunch cilantro (cut the bottom 1 inch and toss you’re going to use the rest including the stems; chop it in 1 inch parts)
7. salt and pepper to taste

Blend all ingredients in a food processor until it is a liquid paste texture. Add flank steak and let marinade for 4-24 hours. Grill on medium-high heat for 4 minutes on each side.

 

Here’s to learning to trust your skills. Cheers!

This recipe is a little difficult to make, but completely worth it. Now, it is not hard, you just need to figure your own way around the sauce. But, otherwise it is fast and easy. Typically, what I do with this sauce is add a small amount of lime and Jalapeno at a time, until you find the flavor you prefer. Here is chance for you to use your skills.

Ingredients:
8 oz white fish (Halibut, Mahi Mahi, Cod are my favorite) makes 2 tacos

– Tortilla you can also wrap them in lettuce if you’re watching your carbs/paleo
– 1/4 head Shredded cabbage
– 1/2 cup cilantro finely chopped
– Jalapenos
– Mayonnaise, (olive oil version has ½ the calories and twice the taste)
– Limes
– 1 Avocado sliced

If you noticed, I didn’t mention how much of each item to use. This is because most people will have a different preference for the amount of sauce, lime as well as spice.
Basically, you will use approximately 1 cup of mayonnaise and add the juice of limes so the consistency becomes slightly less thick than regular mayonnaise. You don’t want a watery sauce. Then add Jalapenos and blend it in a bullet or food processor, until the Jalapenos are finely blended. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add the salt and pepper as you go. It is important to know that salt tones down the flavor of lime so it is best to add it after the lime and a little at a time.

I prefer to grill my fish; it is healthier and tastes better. To grill fish, use aluminum foil and spray the foil with Pam so the fish doesn’t stick to the foil. You don’t want to overcook the fish, so grill it on medium heat for approximately 4 minutes on each side or until it turns white as opposed to opaque.

Putting it together, place about 3-4 oz of fish on each taco, add cabbage, taco sauce, avocado, sprinkle with cilantro and serve.

This is a great side dish or snack filled with protein. I typically make a lot and refrigerate it. It will keep for at least 1 week. It is a favorite among many, including myself.

Here’s to making life as simple as we can. Cheers!

Lentil Salad

2 cups brown lentils
1/2 lb cherry/grape tomatoes each diced into 8 small pieces
¼ cup fresh mint finely chopped
½ large red onion, finely chopped
¼ cup Olive oil
1 cup Balsamic Vinegar, I use blackberry balsamic from We Olive.
1 teaspoon Cumin
Salt & Pepper to taste

Boil lentils in medium sauce pan until cooked. Do not over cook the lentils; they should just be slightly soft. As soon as they are eatable drain them and rinse with cold water. Rinsing the lentils will stop the cooking process. Allow the lentils to cool. Mix in remaining ingredients. Refrigerate until cold.

Here’s to adding a little fire to your life! Cheers!

This is one spicy salad. If you prefer a little less spicy, just reduce the peppers. I suggest adding a little pepper at a time until you figure out how much you prefer. It is a very refreshing dish that can be a great summer dinner. Just keep in mind that the beef tastes best if it has been allowed to marinade over night.

Marinade

lb beef flank steak or 1 lb beef sirloin steaks or 1 lb beef tenderloin
2 teaspoons white pepper
2 tablespoons fish sauce
4 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 tablespoons palm sugar
8 cloves garlic, minced

Mix ingredients in a Ziploc and let meat marinade from 2-24 hours in liquid. Char grill or broil meat to med rare, about 3-4 minutes per side. Let rest at least 10 minutes then slice VERY thin (1/4″ or less) against the grain. Use very good quality meat for this dish; you want it to be fork-tender and melt-in-your-mouth!

Dressing

2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup fresh lime juice
3 -4 tablespoons fish sauce (to taste); not to be mistaken with the fish paste
4 -6 shallots, minced
4 -6 serrano peppers, very finely minced or ground to paste
2 stalks lemongrass, remove outer stalk and slice very thin or grind
3 tablespoons toasted rice powder (ground fine)

Mix all dressing ingredients together 1+ hours before serving salad. Be sure to taste and make any necessary adjustments. The dressing should be SPICY, Sour, Salty and sweet in that order.

Salad

1 lb fresh salad greens (I use the bagged spring mix or butter lettuce)
1 large red onion, thinly sliced
1 bunch scallions or 1 bunch green onion, cut to ½ inch
1 cucumber, peeled & seeded cut in half lengthwise and thinly sliced
Cherry tomatoes or grape tomatoes or wedges tomato
1 lemon, cut in half lengthwise and very thinly sliced (toss into salad for garnish/flavor)
1 cup fresh mint leaf, roughly chopped

Pour half of dressing over the red onions, lemon and mix in a LARGE salad bowl and let them absorb the flavor, 15 minutes.  Add lettuce, tomatoes, scallions and mint and the remainder of the dressing. Toss the salad until all ingredients are very well coated and mixed.

Truth is I love to cook, so the fact that I encourage people to stock their kitchen with what I think of as the essentials of cooking should by no means be a deterrent. While some people will have their own favorites, others may be reluctant to spend money before they really commit to cooking on a regular basis. I live by the motto that the quality of what goes in comes out.

First, I must warn you that there are two ingredients you cannot do without if you’re following my recipes. Olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I suggest buying these items from a Trader Joes, Whole Foods or a local ethnic market. They have a great selection and don’t charge an arm and a leg. I have to confess, I buy my olive oil and balsamic vinegar from We Olive and it is expensive. But, it is not essential to buy it from there.  I also use grapeseed oil, coconut oil and ghee.

Olive oil, is a very healthy and delicious addition to your ingredients. When selecting an olive oil it can get a little intimidating if you’re not familiar with the different oils. The darker the oil the more flavor. Olive oil can get bitter if burned at a high heat so never use olive oil for frying. I personally use olive oil when I want the flavor of the oil to enhance my recipe. For example, salads, pasta dishes, grilling or broiling. Examples of when you don’t want to use it are soups, baking or rice.  When I am not using olive oil, I am typically using grapeseed oil.

Getting back to the type of oil, I suggest stocking up on two, one light and one dark. If you have a favorite just go with that, if you don’t buy two small ones and see which you prefer. Most importantly, find one you love. Like I said, I buy my olive oil at We Olive. I like the Tuscan for every day cooking and dressing and I also like the flavored oils, but that’s a personal preference.

Coconut and grapeseed oils are simple; it is all the same from my experience. Unlike olive oil, coconut and grapeseed oils can be cooked at very high heat without changing the flavor of the oil. I use these oils to fry, bake, or cook anything where I don’t want the flavor of the oil to be part of the recipe. For example, rice, Mexican food, Thai food. I will always let you know which oil to use and eventually you will be able to figure it out on your own.

Balsamic vinegar is one of my favorite kitchen essentials. I use it like most people use salt. I use it for salads, marinades, grilling chicken, steaks and many, many more things. You will need to try a few and find one or two that you love. My favorite is Aged Balsamic, Blackberry Balsamic and Peach White Balsamic, all are sold at We Olive. However, I recommend also buying one that is not infused with additional flavors. Costco has a great balsamic vinegar as does Trader Joes. I am not a fan of plain white balsamic vinegar but again it has to be what you love.

Moving on to cooking utensils. I am obviously more passionate about the ingredients then the utensils, however, I have found that the better the utensils the better the cooking experience. If you have not already done so, then I recommend buying a good set of knives, you can start with a few basics such as a Chef’s knife 8 inch, Santoku 7 inch, Carving knife 8 inch, Utility knife 6 inch and if you can, a Tomato knife 5 inch, only because cutting tomatoes can be so much fun with this knife.

I personally invested in 26 piece set of Wusthof knives, but it is by no means necessary to make such a financial commitment. If you can invest the money, buy the few I mentioned from a good manufacturer and increase your collection as you go. The best way to keep your knives sharp is to sharpen them with a knife sharpener every other time you use them. Also make sure you do so at the correct angle or you can ruin your knives. If you have quality knives, it is a good idea to have them professionally sharpened once a year.

Pots and pans are another essential item (that was a joke). I own a set of Calphalon pots and pans. I prefer the Contemporary Nonstick with the metal handles. I also use stainless steel for recipes where I am browning meat, or making a sauce. Also, I like the metal handles on both sets because I can use them on the stove as well as the oven.

Finally, you will need an electric wine bottle opener so you can open up the second bottle of wine quickly and it won’t interfere with your cooking time. We will be cooking with wine very often and sometimes we will use it as an ingredient.

I whipped this up for a healthy, quick picnic option and it was a hit! It’s refreshing and you can make it into a sandwich, eat it on it’s own or scoop it over lettuce.

Here’s to a quick, easy recipe you could’ve thought up yourself! Cheers!!!

2 cans chicken breast packed in water or 16 oz of shredded chicken breast
6 stalks of celery chopped
2 cups pickles chopped
1 cup mayonnaise. I use the type made from olive oil.

Mix the ingredients together and add salt and pepper to taste. Refrigerate and serve cold.

Here’s to letting your taste buds go wild. Cheers!

This recipe is delicious and while the ingredients are different, you won’t regret making this dish. If you are serving it with another meat dish, such as lamb or beef, I suggest using the broth instead of the chicken. That way you can eat the rice with the main dish.

Ingredients

• 4 skinless chicken breasts, diced/ or 2 tablespoons low sodium chicken broth (powder)
• 1 tbsp Moroccan spice seasoning
• 1 yellow onion, finely sliced
• 4 oz butter
• 4 cups white rice, (Basmati)
• 12 dried apricots , halved
• 16 oz can chickpeas , drained and rinsed
• 1 cup parsley, chopped

• Coat chicken with the Moroccan spice. Fry the onion in butter until soft. Tip in the chicken and cook for a 5 minutes. If you’re using the chicken broth instead of chicken add the chicken broth to the onions.
• Stir in the rice and apricots and pour in water approximately 1 inch over rice and the chickpeas.
• Allow the water to come to a boil and reduce to medium heat until water has evaporated. Cover the top of the pot with a towel or cloth and cover with the lid. Reduce heat to low and simmer for 25 minutes. Toss in the chopped flat leaf parsley and serve.

• 2 teaspoons ground cumin
• 2 teaspoons ground coriander
• 2 teaspoons ground ginger
• 1 teaspoon hot chili powder
• 1 teaspoon coarsely ground pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon salt, preferably kosher
• 1/2 teaspoon sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• ¼ teaspoon ground saffron Try this with Lamb Chops with Mint-Yogurt Marinade

Here’s to cold nights and relaxing in front of the fire. Cheers!

All I know is that when it is starts getting cold outside I want soup.
The Crab, Clam and Corn Bisque is one of my favorites and is just delicious.  If you don’t have an aversion to bread like I do, okay so it’s more like my vanity precludes me from eating carbs but you get the point, try it with sourdough bread.  Remember to heat the bread because heating sourdough changes the consistency and flavor.

Ingredients
12 oz crab meat
12 oz clams chopped
2 table spoons olive oil
Salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
3 cups chopped yellow or white onion
3 cups chopped carrots
3 cups celery
1 cup brandy
½ cup tomato paste
3 crushed garlic cloves
8 sprigs fresh tarragon or chives or green onion stick parts
8 sprigs fresh thyme (do not remove them from the stems)
15 black pepper corns
1/2 gallon water
2 ounces butter
4 ounces flour
2 cans corn kernels
*1 cup heavy cream (I don’t add this part if I want to make a lower calorie version. You can add the cream to each bowl if you like just add about a tablespoon or 2 at most)

In a large stock pot over medium high, heat the oil.  Sauté the 2 cups of onion, celery and carrots for 4 minutes, season with salt and pepper (remember you’re going to add ½ gallon of water so it will water down the flavor at this point more flavor is better).  Carefully add the brandy. After most of it has cooked off stir in the tomato paste. Cook for 2 minutes. Add the garlic, tarragon, thyme and peppercorns.  Stir in the water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat simmer and cook for 45 minutes.  Strain the broth. In a stock pot add the butter and 4 ounces of the stock slowly add in the flour to make a roux (this is a creamy thick mixture).  Add the onion to the roux and cook for 3 minutes, add the corn and season with salt and pepper to taste.  Whisk in the strained liquid into the pot with the roux and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for an hour.  Add the crab and clams to the liquid and cook for 20 minutes.  Turn off heat and whisk in the cream.  Allow to sit for 10 minutes, it makes the flavor absorb better.  Serve.  Enjoy.

Here’s to secretly healthy treats. Cheers!

I normally call this Chicken Tortilla Soup, but truth is there are no tortillas anywhere near this recipe.  It is healthy, but don’t worry after tasting it you will feel the required amount of guilt to overcompensate the healthy portion.

Ingredients

1 onion chopped
1 Tbsp. minced garlic or 3 garlic cloves finely chopped
3 Tbsp. smoked paprika
2 tsp ground cumin
2  tsp red chili powder (if you like your food spicy add more to taste)
¼  tsp cayenne
1 ½ quarts low sodium chicken broth
2 cans chopped tomatoes
1 bunch cilantro leaves
2 lbs. chicken; use boneless, skinless chicken; it is also easier to chop if it is still slightly frozen
1 avocado
2 zucchini
2 stalks celery thinly chopped
1 yellow bell pepper
1 green bell pepper
1 red bell pepper
1 orange bell pepper
* I like to use different color bell peppers because they have different flavors and I like the way it looks, but sometimes they can get expensive so feel free to improvise.
Salt and Pepper to taste
2 tablespoons lime juice (optional)
Grated Mexican blend cheese (you can find this at any grocery store)

In a large pot sauté chicken and onion for 10 minutes.  Add all remaining ingredients except the avocado and cilantro.  Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 30-45 minutes depending on how hungry you are.  Serve in bowls and add cilantro, sprinkle cheese and avocado.

If you must have the tortilla you have two options, first you can just use tortilla chips or you can buy tortillas and slice them, spray them with Pam and place them on a cookie sheet and heat them in the oven for about 10 minutes on 350 until they get crunchy.

Here’s a simply delicious appetizer for your. Cheers to eats and treats!

2 loaves French bread baguettes
2 cans crab meat
2 lbs shrimp
8 oz parmesan cheese
4 fresh tomatoes chopped
1 red onion finely chopped
1/4 cup fresh finely chopped chives
1/4 cup fresh finely chopped basil
4 garlic coves finely chopped
Olive oil, I use a quality oil from We Olive.

Sautee the shrimp in 4 table spoons olive oil until cooked, remove from heat and chop. In a mixing bowl add all ingredient, except parmesan cheese, and toss.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Then cut the baguettes into 1/4 inch thick pieces.  Place the baguettes flat on a cookie sheet.  Drizzle olive oil on each baguette then add mixed ingredients on each baguette.  Sprinkle parmesan cheese and bake for 10-15 minutes depending on how crispy you want the bread.  If you place aluminum on the cookie sheet under the baguettes and spray it with a cooking spray, it will help make them crunchier.  Remove and enjoy!

Garlic Hummus
1/2 cup tahini (sesame paste)
2  teaspoons ground cumin
5 garlic cloves
2 (16 oz) cans chickpeas drained
4 tablespoons olive oil
Juice of 2 limes
Puree all ingredients until smooth.  Add salt and pepper to taste.

In a food processor finely chop juice of all limes, garlic, cumin, salt and pepper. Add chickpeas and ground until smooth.  Add tahini and ground until fully mixed.

Cilantro Jalapeño Hummus
3 cans of chickpeas drained
1.5 cups of Tahini

4 tablespoons olive oil
3 jalapeños
2 cups cilantro
6 limes
salt / pepper to taste
3 table spoons minced garlic or 9 fresh garlic cloves

In a food processor finely chop jalapenos, cilantro, juice of all limes, garlic salt and pepper. Add chickpeas and ground until smooth.  Add tahini and ground until fully mixed.

– 3-7 bone prime rib bone cut from the rib and tied together
– 1/2 cup chopped fresh rosemary
– 1/2 cup chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
– 1/2 cup chopped fresh oregano
– 1/2 cup chopped fresh thyme
– 1/2 cup chopped fresh basil
– 8 gloves garlic
– 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
– 2 teaspoons kosher salt
– 2 teaspoons pepper

Heat the grill to 325-350 degrees (3-5 grill burner turn middle burners off).

– Mix all of the herbs, olive oil, salt and pepper together and rub all over the meat, including the underside where the meat is sitting on the bone.
– Put the prime rib bone side down on a large rimmed sheet pan and put it on the grill away from the heat. Cover the grill and cook for 2 to 2 1/2 hours. Temperature should be 130 degrees.

This is the before

 

 

 

This recipe came out surprisingly delicious.

– Spaghetti squash

– 1 can diced tomatoes

– 2 cups mushrooms

– 1 bell pepper; any color

– 1 tbsp. of chopped habanero in Adobe sauce

– 1 pound ground beef/chicken/turkey

– 1 cup chopped onions

– 1/2 cup tomato paste

– 3 table spoons olive oil

First, cut the squash in half. Empty seeds and add a table spoon of olive oil, tsp salt and tsp pepper, to each side, cover with aluminum foil and bake at 400 degrees for about 1-1:30, depending on size. You can tell if it’s cooked by simply using a fork and pulling the squash out.

Brown ground meat with the onions. Once the meat is cooked add tomatoes, tomato paste, mushrooms and bell peppers. Add about 1/2 cup of water and simmer. You want the sauce to be very thick because the squash has a lot of water in it naturally. Simmer for 25-30 min on low.

When the sauce and squash are both done, mix them together, add 1 tbsp. olive oil, cover with a paper towel and place the lid on it. Summer on low for 25 min.

This came out super yummy and took me 15 min from prep to eat time. This is only enough for 1 person so just double for 2 and so on. Cheers!

2 boneless, skinless chicken thighs cut into 1 inch cubes

1 pack Shirataki angel hair noodles

1/4 cup fresh parsley

2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese

1 teaspoon Cajun Street seasoning

1/4 cup chopped yellow or white onion

Rinse noodles and blanch. Drain and allow to sit. Santee chicken with onion. When the chicken is almost cooked add the remaining ingredients except for the Parmesan cheese. Sauté for 5 min or until the juice is cooked and mostly dry. Place in serving dish and add the Parmesan cheese. Enjoy!

These are links to buy the noodles and Cajun seasoning. Why drive all over town looking for this stuff when you can order it online.

http://www.amazon.com/Shirataki-Noodles-Pack-of-5/dp/B002CENRLG
https://www.urbanaccents.com/product/cajun-street/?gclid=CI30y_yr0cgCFYdbfgoda64JIA

– 2 eggs

– 1 cup mushrooms

– 1/2 cup green bell peppers

– 1/2 cup yellow bell peppers

– 1/2 cup orange bell peppers

– 1 cup grape tomatoes cut in halves

– 1 slice toasted bread

– 3 slices of bacon chopped (center cut)

– 1/4 cup chopped white onion

– 1 cup rice vinegar

Chop all vegetables and bacon into 1/2 inch pieces before starting. You’ll be sautéing them while cooking the eggs.

In a medium sauce pan fill it 3/4 with water and boil. Once the water has boiled add the vinegar. Reduce heat to medium.

In a pan sauté bacon for 3 minutes on high heat.  Add onion, bell peppers, mushrooms and sauté for 5-8 minutes on medium heat.  Add salt and pepper to taste. You don’t want to over cook them so they’re not soggy.  Add tomatoes and sauté covered on low heat for 3 minutes.
Poaching the egg is a little challenging. After you reduce the heat use a wooden spoon and stir the water as the water is still spinning gently add the eggs one at a time. Allow it to cook for 5-8 minutes depending on how well you want the eggs cooked.  When they are cooked use a slotted ladle to remove the eggs one at a time. Place in a bowl, this will reduce the run off water.

Toast your bread.

In a plate, place the toast, add the bacon and vegetables and put the eggs on top.