Brafftastic has been replaced

While waiting for a chicken quesadilla with Stephen, I started looking in my gigantic purse for something entertaining and came out with my pocket Farkel. Farkel is a game that was first introduced to me as 10,000 several years back while serving my time at BYU. It is a dice game played until someone reaches that magic score of 10,000. The game recently reemerged as Farkel and I am known to take it out in any waiting situation (we are back to the quesadilla). Stephen and I begin our game and quickly decided to raise the stakes and play to 100,000. We also decided that bonus points can be awarded at any time for Farkelrific comments (look who's taking a paaage. . . out of momma's strategy book) and actions (like saving a baby from a burning building). I will be giving periodic updates as to where the score is at in our Farkel. . . to the extreme!

Current Score:
Stephen 37,500
Rachel 37,050*

If for some reason we reach 100, 000 to quickly we will play to 1,000,000. Feel free to place bets.

*It should be noted, mostly because this is MY blog, that I was winning for the majority of the game. Also, the golden gopher has nothing to do with Farkel, aside from being a good time.

Heat waves may be uncomfortable but cold just hurts

My favorite time of the year is the Los Angeles warm winter; that time of year when most of the country is freezing under a grey sky and blanket of dirty snow yet LA is a garden of Eden-like sunny and 75. It is those couple of weeks, typically in late February after some degree of "cold" weather but before any serious rain storms barrel through. It is the time of year when Angelenos are at their most arrogant (why would anyone live anywhere else?) and are able to stop cursing about how bad the traffic is for five minutes.

Today was a prime example of this climate phenomenom. 77 degrees, blue skies interrupted by puffy white clouds, and a breeze just strong enough to make the trees dance; a day so stunning I am writing like a 14 year old girl with a crush.* As if that wasn't enough, I was sent an extra slice of wonderful when I happened upon an alley in downtown Claremont carpeted with little white blossoms from the canopy of trees above. It almost looked like snow on the ground accept it was soft and white, not freezing and wet. Below is a picture of this perfect alley complete with the bright yellow ladder (always useful).

So here is to everyone who has bad things to say about LA. . . enjoy your snow; I'll keep mine.

*I may be having flashbacks to the days of My So-called Life and the crush that every girl had on Jordan Catellano. We all wanted to be dreamy and conflicted just like Angela so we could bag some Jared Leto.

Sometimes Brooklyn looks like Echo Park

It just wouldn't be a Rachel trip without a couple of blog worthy escapades. Having spent the last six days in New York City, I am not at a lack. The following are the two most note worthy NYC encounters.*

Story #1:
Who needs TV; NY cabby's are the best entertainment

Running late to class on Thursday, I hailed a cab uptown to venture down to the meat packing district. Seeing that I was clearly from out of town, my cab driver proceeded to ask the standard questions. Business or pleasure? Where are you from? How long are you here? Blah, blah, blah. He then inquired if I liked Indian food, which I answered in the affirmative not realizing that his question was a pick-up line and not small talk. He followed up by asking if I had five or six hours to spare while I was in town because he would like to take me to Atlantic city. Tempted, I replied, but I just wasn't going to have that kind of time, sooo sorry. He apparently took no offensive to the rejection as he didn't charge me for the ride. Now, that's a good cabby.**

Story #2
Three things that don't go together: subways, luggage, and chicks from LA

After finishing my Class on Friday, I made my way uptown to meet a friend, fetch the bags from storage at my Hotel, and make our way out to Brooklyn. Doesn't sound to bad until you consider the type of neurotic traveler I am, and look at my luggage. All mocking of women who over pack should be redirected towards me. I had two rolly suit cases, one heavy laptop carry on bag, my gigantic purse, a folder from my class, and my Marc Jacobs shopping bag. So their we were, clunky baggage downstairs, clunky baggage upstairs, clunky baggage trying to pass pissed off New Yorkers during rush hour on the coldest day ever. For the most part, this lugging of awkward baggage was at most annoying, then we came to the turnstile. . .where I got stuck. Tall red head in a faux fur hounds tooth coat stuck in a turnstile do to vain over packing. Karma's a bitch***, and I have the bruises to prove it.



*Stories now. Pictures to follow.

**As I told people of this encounter I was inundated with interesting cabby stories. Some funny, some annoying, but none of them ended in a free fare. Suckas!

***If you know me well enough, you know why karma stuck me in that turnstile.

Mmmm. . . Bb. Hair Powder

Random pictures. More to come.

Photography by Erika Hokanson

Hair by me

A Christmas Miracle

This is the playlist of my favorite songs to listen to at the moment. It is also the Christmas present many will be recieveing. Please enjoy while eating cheese and reading poetry or discussing politics with your friends.

1. Edward Scissor Hands
2. La Mer, Charles Trenet
3. Fly Me To The Moon, Astrud Gilberto
4. Littlest Things, Lily Allen
5. Cosmic Dancer, T. Rex
6. Chicago, Sufjan Stevens
7. Le Ciel Dans Une Chambre, Carla Bruni
8. not sure actually
9. Tout Le Monde, Carla Bruni
10. The Crane Wife 3, the Decemberists
11. Verlaine, Charles Trenet
12. Hong Kong Garden, Souxie
13. La Vie En Rose, Edith Piaf
14. After the Bombs, the Decemberists
15. Someone to Watch Over Me, Sarah Vaughn
16. La Pour Ca, Nada Surf
17. It Ain’t Me Babe, Johnny Cash
18. Sons and Daughters, the Decemberists
19. Smile, Lily Allen
20. J’entends Cette Musique, France Gall

Special thanks to Stephen Dubois, Courtney Forester, Damon Footer, Damien Bueno, Rosella Testa and Mario Estrada for pointing me towards this music throughout the year.

HBO family

I think that I watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire something like five tiimes in the last week and a half. I just can't get enouph of those kids. Very un-me.

I drove in Paris

Scary...

and AWESOME!

Found in Translation

So, I am recently returned from my first trip to Paris. As I mentioned in earlier posts, I had a great deal of apprehension regarding this excursion, much of which owing to the fact that I do not speak French. Let me give you some back round.

When I was in high school, my family hosted French Canadian students for the summer. They were a very friendly and energetic group of teenagers and we spent the summer experiencing all the lovely tourist traps LA has to offer*. As you can imagine, most of the summer was actually spent in LA traffic. During all of the long car rides, a favorite game of the Canadians was to ask me to speak to them in French. They would say a word and I would attempt the pronunciation and then they would laugh. They loved this game.

Fast forward 11 years and you can see that this seemingly harmless game has left a scar. I was afraid that French people would laugh at me trying to order a ham and cheese sandwich. But, seeing as it has been 11 years, I rounded up my fears stuck them in a pocket and went to Paris.

It was awesome. Not just Paris, which would be hard to screw up**, but conversing with the French. Admittedly, at first there were some tricky points, but once I slowed down and started to listen more I was able to not only say 5 or 6 useful French words, but my English actually improved as well. I had to remove slang and colloquial phrases from my diction if I wanted the French with their classroom English to understand me. At times it felt like an exercise in communication I would be given at some corporate job training retreat. I loved it.

And, whenever we wanted to speak privately, my travel companion and I would just talk quickly to each other. Not only could they not understand our speed English, but I don't think anyone we met ever understood what she said regardless of speed. Somewhere there are French Canadians laughing.

*They were always most excited to go to Venice beach and Santa Monica because that is where they film Baywatch. . .and you thought it was just the Germans with the Hasslehof fetish.

**Ask my travel companion who was pick pocketed for 300 euro and still managed to enjoy her holiday.

Why I love Sofia Coppola more and hate Kirsten Dunst less

If you saw Marie Antoinette and did not like it you have two options; go and try again because there is something you missed or stop reading now. If you have not seen Marie Antoinette, stop reading and go to the movies now.*

I had anticipated this film for quite some time and my excitement was not deterred by poor reviews. This is a terrible way to see a film. High expectations nearly always lead to let down. Thankfully not the case with Marie. She held up to all expectations and I was quite pleased.

This being said, I am not here to talk about the movie**. From time to time I am asked, as a hair dresser, who in the industry I look up to. This has always been a difficult question for me to answer. I respect and admire numerous hair dressers that have come before me as well as many of my contemporaries, but there has never been that one out there that really gave me something to shoot for. Someone that I could look to for inspiration in artistry and career path, that I could still relate to on some level. Mind you, in an industry that I would say (without official statistics) is 80% women, probably 95% of those at the top that I could look up to are men. The hair for Marie Antoinette was styled by Odile Gilbert, a French session stylist whose work I have always respected. Until recently had never considered how amazing she is. She is one lady among many men that can do the caliber of work that she can do. She has perforated the boys club of editorial and session stylist and then went on to style brilliant film that is having a huge impact on fashion and the world of pop culture. For this, I feel I finally have an opinion on the subject.***

And, she is French.


*Blanket apology for my current bossiness.
**All evidence to the contrary.
***Just having an opinion is typically more important than what that opinion is.

By the way, I do love Sofia Coppola, and hate Kirsten Dunst, but that wasn't really the focus.

I'm sure you figured that out.

I'll go now.

Comming soon to a blogger near you

It has come to my attention that my little baby blog has been dramatically under attended to. My sincerest apologies regarding my attention deficit. I am currently composing several riveting posts for your enjoyment and education*. Blogs to follow may include one or all of the following: Why I love Sofia Coppala more and hate Kirsten Dunst less; Found in translation; My evening at the grownups table; Monday afternoon on the island of the Grande Jatte or Echo Park; "27 is still MID-twenties"; and "Perv" does not translate into French.

By the way, yes I am 27 and that is okay.**

*Everything should be educational.

**Stuart Smalley anyone?