Soakin' Up San Francisco

Note from the blogger:  In honor of my recent celebration of baby sister's 21st birthday in Vegas, I'll share below my first ever guest-post on one of my favorite blogs: that of my best and oldest friend, Chels.  Here's to the success of her recently revamped:   Single in Sin City.   Thanks for being my inspiration, bestie! Me and Chels this past weekend - pretending we were 21 again As an LA native and new SF local, being a guest of Sin City makes me the most run-of-the-mill type of girl walking the Strip these days. I'm in town for a night or two for several purposes. Nope, not work or relaxation... I'm there to party, to have girl time, to meet guys, and to relax, sure (while looking cute and taking seemingly carefree Instagram selfies). I'm there to be the girl that I am not on your average weekday. Mind you, I am entirely stereotyping AND generalizing at the same time. This is the Vegas I've experienced as a California girl... it's the ...

This past summer, I'd often sit back on my morning train ride into the city and mindlessly swipe through Craigslist's options for studio apartments on my iPhone. As I scrolled and skimmed one early AM, swiping this way and that for whatever details I could find - whilst praying for something decent-looking within my target price range - a realization and comparison both dawned on me: The apartment hunt - in today's world of smart phones, infinite apps AND an insane housing market - felt a little like the online/social dating scene these days.  Imagine the same scene I described above -- but replace the Craigslist app with Tinder in your imagination (I mean, it's not like that's ever been an actual reality. Nope, never). I'd swipe and scroll, digging for the tiniest tell-tale sign that the guy (or apartment) in question was attractive, seemingly "structurally" sound, and in a convenient location to both work and fun.  In moments of impatience,...

There are a few token birthdays most of us will always remember. They include but are not limited to: the super Sweet Sixteen, the once-in-a-lifetime 21st (if you reside in the U.S., anyway) and the leap "over the hill" when one hits the big 4-0. Ones very first birthday is always ridiculously over-hyped by oogling relatives and deserving mothers.  A famous animated Disney nutcase even showed us that there is little harm in celebrating ones "un-birthday" if he or she feels so inclined.  But what about the HALF-birthday? Why is it so often overlooked? Now I realize that I may not be representative of the typical age-turner. My friends know me as someone who not only loves to celebrate my birthday; I have a tendency to drag it out into a multi-weekend series of celebrations and getaways, not to mention the mandatory family birthday dinner plus mid-week happy hours for every single one of my circles of friends.  No, it's not because I love another excuse...