Hot Light Bling

Hello all!

Greetings from a super wild Friday night spent in playing video games and snuggling silly puppies. This is pretty rare for us. Not that we are wild party goers or throwers, but we usually pick one night out of the week to venture out. That night is usually a Friday night. On Friday nights, we usually get the gang together, all like three and a half of us that are left, and go grab a bite at one of the happening Riverside joints and maybe have an adult beverage or two (just one Trashcan, right Travis?). Tonight was not going to be like that. We decided to stay in for two reasons. One, we are heading out to the beautiful PNW (Pacific Northwest, bitches) in a few weeks, and we would like all of our monies to be available to spend there on things like delicious Russian pastries, Mt. Rainier excursions, zoo admissions, and kayak rentals. I am really trying to kayak with the orcas, so this may be one of my last blog posts. If it is, it has been a pleasure entertaining you all at my expense. The other reason, I just really don't feel all that great. Super crampy, bloated, you know, the works, and I've been up since like 6:35 (which is a very rare occurrence for me). I really didn't feel like trying to get cute and go sit at one of our local haunts to be dripping sweat from the lack of AC in these decrepit, I mean.. "charming," Riverside buildings. I did not really want to try to hold in any of my Foghorn Leghorn farts that I knew would be coming. It's inevitable when I am all bloated like this, no getting around it. Since those are typically frowned upon in public places, I was not going to risk it just to have a night out.

But, Nick was not having it. He was at least going to get us to Lola's burrito joint. Just what I need to ease the gas, burritos. Great. He has been obsessed with this place since we finally went there for dinner with my brother a few weeks back. If you are ever in Riverside, and you have never been to Lola's, you should stop in! The burritos are amazing, as are their skinny fries with cheese. I am clueless as fuck as to why anyone would name fried potato sticks "skinny fries" because they are anything but that, but it's not my restaurant. Maybe it's a tactic to make women feel a little better about ordering a side of fries. BTW, the side of fries is enough to feed at least three hungry bitches who, "just had the worst day at work," and just broke up with their boyfriends. Nick and I can barely finish an order, and his ability to put food down is disgusting.

Back to Lola's, I strongly recommend the "Curious George' which is a burrito with fried plantains stuffed into it. Heaven. Sweet, sweet Heaven. Tonight was like no other, it was packed, it was hotter than Satan's asscrack in a Juicy Couture track suit, and we had to wait. Which we shouldn't have, since Nick called to put our name on the list, since neither of us were trying to fuck around after being out in the sun trying to rid our trash bins of black widow spiders (we will get to that in a little bit). They told us 15 minutes, we got up there in 13 and our name had somehow already been called and scratched out... Okay. Remember, gassy, bloated, and just had to Steve Irwin a nest of spiders, and the hostess wanted to say, "Sorry, your name already got called and bumped off the list, you can sit outside if you like..." NO! NO! NO! I would rather scratch my eyes out and put your "best tequila in Riverside" in my eye sockets than sit out in that 80000 degree area that y'all call a patio. Not her fault, but I was saltier than the rim of a margarita as we waited another 15 minute wait for an indoor table. It was well worth it though. We were seriously entertained by a little girl who smacked her head on the corner of a table and took it like a champ, and then an older woman falling down by her booth and all of her tablemates swearing there was water on the ground and jumping up to take pictures. There was no water. This was obvious to us and several very amused guests at the bar. We felt bad for the lady who fell, but what a shit show.

We didn't order entrees this time, just the skinny fries and a couple of margs. I tried their frozen marg, anything to cool my sweaty ass and insufferable attitude down. That, along with Nick's serious effort to tell me funny jokes, worked like a charm! Here is one of the jokes: Two men walked into a bar, the third one ducked. Attitude was gone, sweat vanished, but I was still not feeling well. I told Nick he was going to have to bolt down his margarita and mine so we could leave Lola's before I blasted a hole through the booth. He did, with a very serious look on his face, and determination to leave his new favorite dinner spot intact.

In the car, I am thanking God that we only live five minutes away, because I do not know what is about to happen, but I knew better than to gamble with my life and the lives of others like that. Tummy all rumbles, we make it home. False alarm though, just air and bloat killing me slowly as it looks for an exit one way or another. I lay in bed, still praising that that had all passed, watched a wedding video of someone I went to school with (it was lovely), and realized, I wanted something sweet. We don't keep sweet stuff around the house, because my fat ass cannot control myself. So, anytime I want something sweet, I have to ask myself, "are you willing to put on a bra and go out in public just to get something sweet?" 8/10 the answer is no, fuck no I will just eat some fruit. You had me at, "put on a bra."

But tonight, my crampy cravings won over. Because sugar totally helps cramps, right? I thought of the one thing I have been craving since we had them about a month ago. Doughnuts! And not just any doughnuts, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. I knew I had to have one. But the closest one to my house is on Cassat Ave, and it is the most rachet Krispy Kreme I have ever been to. On the rare occasion that Nick and I splurge on something like doughnuts, we go to that Krispy Kreme. Again, because it is the closest. But every time we have been, it takes at least 45 minutes for them to serve three vehicles, they are constantly talking shit about the customers over the mic that is linked to the drive thru, and they have to ask us to repeat our order twice at the window. Every. Single. Time. Our order is literally two dougnuts, sometimes three (one for Nick's control of steel self, and two for me) if I am feeling like I can afford those calories (it is a lie I tell myself, who the hell am I kidding? I can never afford those calories). So I am far from understanding how a two item order can be confusing. Like you can't special order a premade doughnut like you could a burger. But somehow, they always ask us twice at the window to repeat the order. Was I really going to go through such foolery for a friggin' doughnut tonight? Yes, yes I was.

I pulled up and saw the hot light on. Praises. Even though I did not want a hot glazed doughnut, the hot light still made me all happy and warm inside. I get in line behind this mini van, she orders a dozen doughnuts. Fuck me. We will be here all night with them trying to get her order right when she inevitably has to repeat herself at the window. It takes 25 minutes. I clocked it. Meanwhile, the man behind us is howling trying to get Eli, my hound, to howl back. I decided to take them with me so they could go on a ride. It was quite amusing having Eli flit madly about the car, but he's not a cool howling hound, so the guy was trying in vain. Back to the lady in the mini van. It is so sad, I know what that lady ordered. She ordered 6 hot glazed, two chocolate iced, one sourcream, one blueberry, 2 chocolate Kreme filled. I know, because I heard her repeat it about 587 times. She was pissed too. She was all red in the face, little vein popping up round her forehead. Solid enough that I can tell from her rearview mirror that she keeps scoping out. She was about to get out her mini van, hop on her scooter that is attached to the back of her van, and roll in there and cuss all the high teenagers they got working there out. She finally moves on with whatever variety they have given her. After 25 minutes, 25 long ass minutes.

I am ready to repeat my order when she asks, "one chocolate glazed, one sour cream, one blueberry (I couldn't decide, so ordering them all was obviously the way to go, right?). She gives me false hope when she nods understandingly. She closes the window, walks away, comes back a few moments later with a bag containing my goodies. But I know better than to pull away confidently. I check the bag. Sure enough, there was one blueberry, two hot glazed. This combo is fine any other day, but I wanted something chocolate, dammit. She comes back, as if she already knows, and opens the window, asks what my order is again and walks away. She is gone for 4 minutes. Where in the hell could she have possibly gone?! I am concerned for her safety when she returns with another bag. This time I don't care what it has in it, I am just ready to get home and be done with this foolery. But I am hoping she heard my super simple order. I pulled away, look into the bag and discovered one blueberry, one sour cream, and one white doughnut with some chocolate drizzle on it. Nope.

Moral of the story is, when the hot light is on, just get the damned hot glazed doughnuts. Or just stay home and eat your pineapple like the good girl you are supposed to be.