just one night couldn't be so wrong.

Am currently preparing myself (both physically and mentally) for an epic journey to mexico for a half hindu half muslim destination wedding.* 

I've actually spent the last hour listening to Cobra Starship ft Leighton Meester (aka my ultimate girl crush) on youtube and contemplating whether or not I need two pairs of overpriced Tory Burch flats. I'm leaning towards yes, food's overrated anyway.

In all seriousness I'll be gone for roughly one week. I'll probably come back covered in mosquito bites and smelling vaguely like tapatillo, but that's a cross I'll have to bear. The good news is the chances of me being kidnapped by the drug cartels are slim to none since those amateurs have nothing on +200 pseudo arabs infiltrating the third world. Sometimes I love being sketchy.

Let's be honest, I always love being sketchy.

*must resist the urge to spontaneously sing 'the best of both worlds' by hannah montana. 

you go, baby vamp.

Vintage on Melrose = the most fantastic finds of my life. DVF tube dress, brand new Juicy Couture shift dress and Marc by Marc Jacobs tote all for less than 200. My life is legit. 

a car alarm is going off right now. i hope it's not mine.

I hang out in bookstores. Don't judge me. 

I usually pick up things I secretly want to read but won't actually bring myself to spend $10+ on, park myself in a somewhat obscure section and stay there for hours. It's the perfect hideaway when I'm at home; I can be there for extended amounts of time, I never run into people I went to high school with and if my mother insists upon it I can be home in 5 minutes. Perfect? I think so.

Also I get a secret thrill out of putting books in the most inappropriate places. Yesterday I stuck "The Skinny Bitch" right in the middle of German/Austrian History. I hope a war fanatic finds it and questions his life choices.  

1-2-3.

Taking third world parents to a trendy LA restaurant is never a good idea. 

Case in point, graduation dinner: After they realized that the lights really were supposed to be that dim, the music was intentionally that loud and the waiter was actually paid extra to not care about us they proceeded to hold their cell phones up to their menus, yell across the table in obscure languages and split entrees made for half a normal person's appetite. 

My father also played his hand at cool by ordering the "Hollywood Dolce Salad" which, coincidentally, doesn't even have lettuce. When it arrived he looked at the candied walnuts, pear slices, and goat cheese in abject horror and proceeded to eat anything that would be in a typical green side salad (dressing on the side, of course.)