Are you taking a photo?

Are you taking a photo inside a museum?

THERE’S NO PHOTO-TAKING INSIDE OF MUSEUMS!!!

These words often play through my head whenever I’m inside of a gallery or a museum. Even if a museum allows photography (hopefully without a flash) it just doesn’t seem right to me. And if it doesn’t allow photography, and you still try and take a photo? Someone should slap your mother.

Of course, I’ve taken a few forbidden pictures in my time (never with flash, of course). But that was in the name of journalism. And by journalism, I mean blogging. But this isn’t about me.

Also, I might have taken a photo of this installation at the LACMA museum. But Katie put me up to it.

It’s about those bastards who keep taking flash photos of art. (more…)

Happy MLK Day, folks. I’m sick, so I’m curling up on the couch with a bowl of soup and staring out my window at the first almost-sunny day Seattle’s had in a long time. Weak.

The view from my couch. Stupid sunshine.

Hopefully you’ll hear from me tomorrow.

I was a smart-ass little kid. This should surprise no one. But in addition to having a smart-ass mouth (smart ass-mouth?), I was also pretty damn proficient when it came to school. And I remember it distinctly biting me in my smart little ass.

Sometime in the second grade, the kid sitting next to me was caught copying off my paper during a test. Rather than force him to move for his offense, our teacher instead made me move my desk, so no one else would be tempted to look at my paper. This would continue every time we took a test for the rest of the year. The cheater got to stay where he was, and I had to move.

It totally blew. (more…)

I know, I know: you’re probably thinking that Threadless‘s star has waned from it’s glittering height of popularity several years ago (by the way – that, dear friends, is how you mix a metaphor). Gone too are the days when I could actually get away with wearing logo t-shirts without looking like I robbed a college student on laundry day. I’ve come to terms with the fact that, at the ripe old age of 29, I’m a good decade older than Urban Outfitters’ target demographic, and now appear to be the creepy old lady who is shopping there, you hope, for some younger relative’s birthday present and NOT herself.

But none of this changes the fact Threadless has some absolutely adorable t-shirts out there. And since they’re now not as en vogue as they were, say, 4 or 5 years ago, it is now officially cool to wear their clothing again. Hell, one could probably get away with wearing their tees even if she’s pushing 30 … or pulling 25, as it were.

So even those these aren’t technically travel items, they are tangentially related to travel. And let’s face it: so is my blog. (more…)

When it comes to picking travel companions, I’ve been lucky. Save for a totally useless kid I dated in college who was a walking disaster both at home and on the one trip we took together, I’ve managed to find people who are fun, adventurous, and not-at-all embarassing to come along with me on trips (or, more appropos, who let me join them while they go on trips). Of course, most of these said people are my husband. And Pinguina. But they’re both so awesome that they should count as more than one person each.

That’s not to say that I haven’t heard horror stories: from a friend of mine who nearly got arrested because of a didn’t-know-when-to-shut-up travel buddy, to another who got sued because the girls he traveled with wanted him to pay for the entirety of their hotel (he won the case, and the girls were found guilty of being lame). With all the things that can go wrong on a trip (losing luggage, having a crazy naked dude attack you, seeing the pants of the guy sitting next to you erupt into flames), a crazy travel companion is not something you want to add to that list. (more…)

The first time I landed in LAX, I was 14. I was spending a few days with my brother, who was a freshman in college at USC. I remember gawking at the layer of smog and the sprawling, bleached-out landscape. When I got off the plane, my brother, for possibly the first and last time in his life, looked happy to see me.

“This place is a shithole,” were the first words out of my mouth.

“I know!” he replied happily. “Isn’t it great?”

And I suppose for him, it really was. He was away from home for the first time, living in L.A., and trying, truly trying, to become a movie star. (more…)

Not shown: the sombrero-wearing stick-figure drawn on the other side.

My friend Rachel took the above photo on New Year’s Eve. She was running short on glasses, so we had to write our names on our disposable cups. Rand followed suit, even though he had an actual glass. When simple directions elude you, it’s time to stop drinking.

But that is not the moral of this story, dear friends. (more…)