Kristeena and I are on a rampage to excercise and eat properly. She went to the NYU gym with me yesterday and gave me a tutorial on how to use all the weight machines. It's been too long for me and some of them I have forgotten how to use properly.

So rawther than bore you with the tiresome details of my efforts to better myself, let me tell you a little story about the REAL BIGGEST LOSER.

Back in the early 90s I was a young slacker epresso jockey with a severe haircut, extreme lipstick, a leather jacket and most importantly, a car. My Doc Martins and I LOVED to take road trips around the western United States by ourselves. One of the doozies I took was a twelve day loop trip on a budget of $800.00, starting in Seattle and finishing in Seattle. HA HAHAA. Okay. Here's where I stopped.

Portland
San Francisco
San Diego
Phoenix
Denver
Bozeman
Home

During the San Diego portion, I decided to drive to Temeculah, San Diego's wine country. I left early in the morning ready to breathe in the semi-desert air, redolent with the scent of ripened grapes. I was ready to make pithy conversation with other tourists and to try to walk the balance between wine tasting and overall drunkenness, especially since I was driving.

I drove to the first winery and parked up above the main winery in the parking lot on the hill. Everything was so beautiful I knew I had to take some pictures. I dug through my car and found my camera and took some pictures of the vineyard, a lizard, some cacti, a palm tree, the main building, myself. It was around noon and it was much warmer than I was used to so it was time to put the camera back in the car and drink taste some wine. Oh and let me say, I had stashed the majority of my travelers checks back in the hotel so I wouldn't run the risk of overspending. AND because I was a young slacker, I had no credit cards after destroying my credit in another life.

I turned to open the driver's side door. Locked. Reached into my pocket for the keys. Not there. Hmmm. Weird. Where were they? Sticking out of the lock? no. On the roof of the car? No. Resting gently on the driver's seat of my turquoise Geo Metro? Yes. Of Course. No panic. SImple solution. I trot down to the winery and ask if they have a wire hanger. No, BUT they do have a flyswatter. Not the best candidate for picking a car door lock since the wire from the flyswatter was coated in some kind of vinyl. I notice that the winery people don't seem very friendly. They're eyening me up and down, noticing the difference between the way I look, and the well coiffed, bejeweled republicans, getting out of their winery tour limos.

I take the flyswatter back up to the car, deconstruct the thing and attempt to pick the lock. Not working. I go back to the winery and ask to use their snotty phone. I call the tow company. "How much for lockout service?" $40.00. Great. I have $30.00. Remember? Slacker. No credit. Fear of overspending on wine. Small panic starting, like teeny tiny earthquake. Make collect call to grandparents for emergency monetary bailout. No one home. Where the fuck did THEY go? They NEVER leave the house.

I walk back up the hill, in the broiling fucking sun. I have no sunscreen -- I'm from Seattle. A foursome of older tourists, wearing resort wear, strolls by and says a polite hello. They keep walking and I survey the area, looking for something that will enlighten me as to what to do. I decide that breaking a window is my only option and I'll have to finish my road trip with a stylin' ghetto window made of clear plastic. I decide I can live with that.

I survey the area for a rock. A big rock. There are no big rocks. There is a medium sized rock that will fit nicely in my hand. I grab it and start tap tap tapping on the driver's side rear window. Tap tap tap. TAP TAP TAP. BANG BANG BANG.

It's hard to break a car window when you don't really want to break the car window.

I start to cry. Tap tap tap. Sob sob sob. Tap tap. sob.

Finally I just sit down on a log, and sob, sunburned arms wrapped around my knees, shoulders heaving, tears streaming.

The polite twinset foursome come back from the winery, a little friendlier. A nice grandma type, leans over with a gentle hand on my shoulder and says, "What's the matter dear?"

"I *sob sob* l-locked mysel-hf *sob* out of my car *sob* and I don't have enoughmoneyforthelockouuuuuut.*sob sob sob cry* It's mostly all back at my *sob* hotellllllll. *sob sob*"

I am the biggest loser.

"Oh honey. It's okay. Can we help you out? We can give you some money and you can give it back to us later. . ."

Let me wrap this story up. The tourists were two couples visiting from Minnesota. Had a son that lived in Seattle. They lent me $20 bucks which was enough to successfully get the car unlocked, and have a little extra for an emergency wine tasting.

I left that winery and found this cool wine dude way off the beaten track who had coincidently moved from West Seattle, where I lived. One day, he quit his job at Boeing, came down south and asked the real estate agent to help him find an affordable parcel of land where he could grow grapes. And that's what he did. Grew grapes, made wine and waited for sad adventurous souls to travel past the wine limos and find him. I regaled him with the harrowing story of my day and he in turn, fed me cheese and crackers and many glasses of his wine, both red and white. I couldn't buy any bottles that day but I promised him I would come back and take some bottles on my way to Phoenix the next day, which I did. His name was Barrett Byrd and I wonder if he is still at it.

When I got back to Seattle, I had to prove that I was not really the biggest loser. I put together a gift basket, resplendent with the culinarry bounties of the Pacific Northwest; Great wine, coffe, teas, smoked salmon, Chukar cherries, blah blah blah. I also slipped in a card with the $20.00 and sent it off to my geriatric angels from Minnesota.

Heh heh heh. Is there a moral to this story? Dress for success? A penny saved is a penny for a lockout? do unto others?

I don't know but if you are that couple from Minnesota or Barret Byrd and you are reading this. . .I just want to, once again, say thanks and Cheers!