To Thyself Be True

So much has happened in the past week that I have barely processed it all, let alone had time to document it. Angel and I flew to Washington and drove my new car, so graciously gifted to me by now very-successful-brother, back to California. (Only people who arent from California pronounce it “Cali”) Anyway, It is always so good to see my brother, he is a source of unlimited laughter and good company. I cried when he pulled away in his taxi. The only constant in my life is him leaving. Even though we are geographically very far from each other, we remain emotionally close…something I thank God for everyday. The 13 hour drive back was only bearable by the company of one of my best friends and the ability to download gangster rap from high school directly onto my phone.

 The Weekend following our return was filled with more excitement, and in Rose family tradition, drama! My Dad, brother, his girlfriend and I took the Bart into SF from my place in Berkeley to the 49ers game. It seems everywhere my family goes, we attract teh oddest and most entertaining of characters. There was Jesse Snider from the Muni who offered everyone free stay in a house in Lake Tahoe, the old black lady on the bus who informed us she was an undercover peace officer, then of course the collective of old black adorable men who held the seats in front of ours at the stadium…season seat holders since the stadium opened (just ask them) I dont know if we watched the game was much as we talked to these 5-6 older men, who also has it “in” with the Usher, who took our garlic fries order and delivered back to our seats. I havent laughed so much in awhile, my family is a HOOT. Being with them really minimizes the $9.50 I spent on a single beer or the pathetic score of the niners.

In other news, this conlcudes day two of classes at Berkeley. I feel so inspired just walking around campus, and my classes are so engaging and informative, I am so happy and blessed to be here…as reminded by the campus characters.






Best Roomate Ever

Date: 2011-08-18, 3:39PM PDT
Reply to: [Errors when replying to ads?]


Konichiwa bitches. Are you looking for the most kick-ass fucking roommate that ever lived? If so, look no further. You fucking found him. I’m a 25-year-old professional marketing agent with experience at bad-ass companies in New York Fucking City. That’s right! What you know about experience? I graduated from Auburn University in Alabama, and moved to NYC at the ripe, tender age of 22. After deciding that New York was a stinky shit-hole, I moved back to Alabama to cultivate more professional experience. Why? So I can make millions of dollars and not have to post shit like this on Craigslist.

Anyway, so I landed this job with a marketing firm in San Francisco, and I have no fucking clue where to live. Honestly, I’m moving there in 3 weeks, so I don’t give a shit if I have to sleep in your bathtub.

A bit about me: I’m respectful, quiet, clean and I won’t bother any of your shit. If you leave shit out, I’m just like, “Oh fuck I better not mess with this shit, because it’s not mine.” I turn off lights. I clean toilets. Fuck it. I’ll even cook for you. That’s right! My dad is a chef and taught me everything there is to know about cooking southern cajun cuisine. I’ll fry green tomatoes, cover them with marinated crab meat and smother that shit in bearnaise. EVERY. GODDAMN. NIGHT. Don’t eat meat? That’s fucking FANTASTIC! I’ll make a zucchini and yellow squash carpaccio that will knock your fucking socks off.

I also read a lot. I fucking LOVE books. Vonnegut, Palahniuk, Hawthorne. All that shit. I read Tuesday’s with Morrie the other day. It’s a sad story, but I learned something about life, love, knowledge and the pursuit of something greater than myself. Fucking smart. Do you like movies? I fucking love them. We can watch the shit out of some movies together if you like, or go get drinks, or work out, hike, play video games or play a game of one-on-one basketball, or I don’t have to talk to you at all. It’s completely UP TO YOU!

Sometimes I play guitar. Are you going to love getting baked and listening to Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd? LIVE? WHENEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT? Of course you are! I’ll take requests and learn any song you like, because I have the voice of an angel and the acoustical stylings of James Fucking Taylor. AWWWWWW SHIT YEA!

A lot of people ask me, “Hey, you’re from Alabama. Are you racist?” And, the answer to that question is, no. I’m not racist or judgmental at all. I love everyone. I’m a secular humanist. I FUCKING LOVE PEOPLE. That’s the only requirement to being a secular humanist actually. You have to like other human beings and want to help them for no other reason than they are human regardless of race, religion or sexual preference. WTF?!!!? Pretty fucking cool right?

I own almost nothing! I’m driving my car from Alabama to California in which I’ll be transporting two duffelbags of clothes, one laptop computer, one guitar, one cell-phone with charger, 8 pairs of shoes, one picture frame, probably some condoms and a shitload of beef jerky and Pringles for the trip. Though, you can expect the jerky to be gone upon my arrival. Unless you’d like me to pick up some on my way into the city. See?! I’m the most considerate person you’ve ever met. I’m offering to buy you shit already!

Am I interested in your pad? You can bet my nomadic ass I am! I only require 4 walls, a ceiling and a floor to shelter me from the elements. Other than that, anything else will be considered a convenient plus. I’m taking being a roommate to the next level. Email me! I’ll hook yo ass up with Facebook links, background checks, credit reports, phone numbers, resumes, references, awards, sexual history, pictures of karate trophies and a list of the top 10 women I’d like to bang before I die. If you want a next-generation roommate who consistently blows your fucking mind with awesomeness, then hit me up. I’m ready to give you money.

Every Rose Has its Thrown

This was my last weekend in Sacramento. It’s weird to think that this time next week I will be in my new place, in my classes, in a new chapter of my life. I always think its cheesy when people say  things like “new chapter in life” and here I am saying it. I am so cheesy. Anyway, what an eventful weekend… On Friday I met up with some friends for drinks at my favorite bar. It was fun until that one guy starting talking about why they dont make rape genre movies…. thats when shit got weird and I had to excuse myself. I passed out at Angel’s and didnt sleep at all. I get home at 8:30 AM . . . and thats when it begins.

Mom is wearing sunglasses and pacing around the kitchen. i repeat, it is 8:30AM. I used to think only blind people and assholes wear sunglasses inside, I now add crack fiends to this list. Her pacing is impressively calculated, she appears to be making laps from the marble counter top inside and then the around the pool in the backyard. Im tired and now dizzy, dad calls me into the garage

dad: i dont know whats going on with your mom but shes acting really weird

me: yeah i noticed.

dad: shes been up since 6AM gardening, now she says theres bed bugs ad keeps scratching herself.

me: have you ever seen a crack head? anyway, im exhausted, going to sleep for a bit.

dad: yeah okay well you might want to brush the crumbs out of your bed first.


dad: yeah your mom was eating english muffins in your bed.

Upstairs, I verifiied said crumbs. I also notice  trail of white powder on my floor, her reading glasses, tweezers, a hand written scribbled note, and my journal, misplaced. After further inspection I conclude that she has read my entire journal and ripped out the one page that I had written all my resentments towards her on. She never ceases to amaze me.

I tell dad. I pack my bags and head to Chris and Mia’s…my “other family”‘s for the weekend. We have a BBQ, everyone comes over, we drink, Chris breaks up with her boyfriend, has a new guy there in an hour, we drink some more, dance, take pictures, and I pass out with Chris Mia and Zan jumping on me trying to see who I am talking to on the phone. I am so happy. That house is filled with so much craziness yet more love then I could ever formulate into words.

The next day we went out on the boat, felt so good to relax and take in all the beauty and booze that surrounds me.

I stop by my parents to shower after the lake. Mom confronts me, she says that she never meant to hurt me, she didnt know it was my journal that she was reading and that she just pulled a “random” page out because she needed something to write her thoughts down on. There are few times when I will actually sit down and bullshit with people, but if your not going to be honest  AND your lies are not very entertaining or well thought out, then dont waste my time.

The rest of the night consist of more booze and boys, and me having to fake an emergency to get out of being in a committed situation with someone who thought we’d probably hook up.

Every rose has its thorn, but this rose has its thrown, and I refuse to A) subject myself to unentertaining bullshit from a master bullshitter and B) make out with someone way so far from my league out of boredom.

Thus my monday concludes with margaritas, manicure, and the satisfaction of being so completely content with myself and the loved ones in my life that I no longer desire a man…just a boy to fan the queen.

House of Roldan v A.Rose

I did some shots for my beautiful girlie Amanda’s clothing line, House of Roldan. Not one for modeling but it was fun and I’m always down to support my friends.

I feel so blessed to be surrounded by such talented, genuine friends. At the end of the day it really is quality over quantity, and yet I feel like I have both!


Its been awhile since I’ve written. Its been awhile since I’ve stopped to think about anything other than work, school, moving, bills….I spent the day with my family, sewing for a friends Skateboard company, running errands, eating, working out, doing whatever…staying busy. When the sun set I took a walk around my parents neighborhood, the neighborhood I grew up. It smells of gardenias, barbeques and my childhood. Everyone’s lawn and nails are perfectly manicured, house numbers painted on the curb, cars washed and safely parked inside garages. Inside. Wheres its safe.

I remember, this ugly-duckling outcast girl that transfered to my middle school. I think she was Russian, very shy and odd but sweet. Her family bought this huge custom designed house on a culdesac down the street from my house. It sat in the middle of the court guarded by HUGE marble pillars and a horse statue in the walkway. Everyone thought the pillars were excessive, but I dont remember any fuss about the horse? Anyway, I remember walking this girl home one day, and something very pecuilar happened. When she opened that 12foot tall glass door to her mansion, I looked inside and they didnt have couches! yeah, thats right, no couches! No table, no tv, NO COUCHES! These people have marble pillars and no couches?! weird.

I make up my own reality when my memory fails me, so this may be fictional, but I swear she said it was because her parents spent too much on the house and the move that they hadnt gotten around or couldnt afford furniture yet. Which would be sensible, but…really?

The moon is full tonight. So bright and promising and full. Im feeling empty. Displaced and empty. Our houses our huge, we have multiple Mercedes in the driveway, 401K’s and marble pillars. But no couches.

A few streets over I pass our family friends’ beautiful home. We used to go on walks and always joke about making them an offer on their house, the most coveted one in the neighborhood for sure. Its your average suburb family. Dad, wife and two kids, we grew up together. My brother dated the daughter in High School, we always thought she was way too pretty for him. But thats how it always was. Their next door neighbors wanted to build a staircase in th backyard leading up to the master bedroom. There was a huge dispute between the two neighbors over this proposed staircase. So much so that they took it to City council and rallied the neighborhood to take sides and make a decision on the stairs. I found this particularly petty and uneseccary. I don’t know what ever came about “the case” but Hugh, the dad, died this week of cancer. He’s gone. Weeks ago my dad ran into him at the grocery store, buying groceries, doing normal dad things. Weeks ago the family was up in arms over a staircase, now the family just wishes they could put their arms around their dad. I wish I could put my arms around the family and tell them this is all that matters.

Theres a Hebrew word, “Selah” which means to pause and reflect. Its used in Psalms many times after an important statement, as though the author wants you to stop and really take it what is being said. Tonight is one of those nights. Fuck the staircase, fuck the city council and your family attorney. Selah. This is it. This right here. Your family, your loved ones, the annoying things they do, the mistakes they make, they headaches they cause, they tears they bring, the laughter, the love, the life we create together. Selah.

My dad just came outback. We looked at the moon together. He said

“isnt it crazy. 12 men walked on that planet. 256,000 miles away”


hood hoppin//dueces

Here’s the afore mentioned letter. I crack myself up. . .


Dear co-workers and friends,

It is my pleasure to announce my resignation of the City of Macramento Park Reservations Office Customer Service Representative. My time here has been enjoyable, but not well spent. I acknowledge that I have not made the best use of my time, I sit at my desk and write emails like this while ignoring my ringing ear piece, I also text and tweet constantly with no remorse.  I have also flashed on a specific co-worker (best to left unnamed) thus causing tension in the workplace, and for this I am forever sorry. Anyway, I wish the best of luck to you, and wish you strength to fend off grenades and Kathy’s. I pray that the good lord almighty will strike down those who ignore park regulations and no cell phone signs in the lobby. I ask that he give you patience with the Gernyeckas and Star May Tinkle’s of the world. I cherish the times we shared and heartless jokes we cracked on unsuspecting victims. It is with great joy that I announce I am on to bigger, badder, more hood places and people. Let the count down begin…6 days bitches!



Amy jane


 The Post-Breakup Betch

On the rare occasion that the #14 date over winter break or the summer turned into an actual relationship, a betch will sometimes temporarily become a less cool and pretty version of herself and be completely consumed by her boyfriend. Suddenly, she’d rather stay in and watch Casablanca than roll face at Tiesto.Weird, we know. No one wants to hear about how sexy her boyfriend’s bangs look pushed back, especially when they could be raging at the bars, drinking shooters and soaking up each other’s awesomeness.

The only thing better than a betch with a boyfriend is a betch without one. The post-breakup betch is very similar to the #7 token crazy friend who is fond of #5 diets#10 Candyland, and bros. After all, the post-breakup period is a betch’s time to shine. The newly single betch needs to show all those bros, especially that asshole who let her go, that she’s single and ready to mingle.

While nice girls may be heartbroken over a recent relationship and do horrible things like binge eat and cry in fucking public, the betch is over it. Whatever, his nose was crooked, he had a small penis, wasn’t that rich, his hairline was receding, and he was too close with his mom. She has no need to drown her sorrows in Taco Bell or waste her time making up revenge fantasies, because she knows that she was better than him in every way and there’s always another bro around the corner.

The post break up period consists of a series of events designed to re-release the betch into the wild.

Step 1: The Breakup Diet. Some girls think a breakup gives them a free pass to stuff their face with chocolate and ignore their workout routine. A betch knows otherwise. There’s never an excuse to be a fat loser. She knows that she was too good for that dumb bastard who lured her in with lavish dinners at STK and bottle service at Tenjune. She will use this opportunity to become even hotter, if that’s possible. The Breakup Diet is your basic, run of the mill anorexia/exercise bulimia assisted by a liberal intake of Adderall.

Step 2: Deleting Your Ex-Bro from BBM. This is critical because you will avoid#14 Sunday Morning Regrets by drunk BBMing him whilst blackout which could possibly embarrass you. Extra betch points for embarrassing him in public. Making him cry at the bars is a classic.

Step 3: Being (or Appearing to Be) a Ho Fosho. Wear your sluttiest freshman year outfits that border between nudity and prostitution immediately following the breakup. A betch knows she looks good naked, now it’s time for someone else to. This will also come in handy when posing with every bro in a ten-foot radius of her at the bars who she #8 hasn’t (or maybe has) already fucked, while her betches (perhaps secretly) snap pics. It goes without saying that her ex is creepily lingering in a peripheral area attempting to make eye contact while she shoots him a look that says, “you can go shave your back now.”

Step 4: Defriending Your Ex-Bro on Facebook. Of course, a true betch only does this after Sunday. Sunday, glorious, Sunday. The unofficial day for betches everywhere to upload their pictures from the weekend of debauchery into Facebook albums aptly named something along the lines of “Grundle Sweat is for Winners” or some other nonsensical and clearly inappropriate title. The point of waiting until after Sunday is to show her ex how crazy her weekend was, with 50+ photos of her practically nude, surrounded by hotter, cooler bros.

When all is said and done, the post-breakup period is a wonderful time for a betch and her besties. She returns to her former glory while her ex-bro unsuccessfully patrols the freshman bars for a less hot version of her to take to his formal.

For the unfortunate bro who let a true betch slip away, beware, you’re not dealing with a nice girl. She will make you more hated than Mel Gibson performing a Chris Brown song while wearing Ed Hardy at a Hitler Youth Convention.

Friends With Benefits

Another day another dollar…. only 6 more days left at “the office”. Today I wrote my co-workers a pre-farewell email to let them know how much I enjoyed working with them. (ill upload it when I get back to the dungeon) After work dad and I saw “Friends With Benefits”. I’ve never been a Justin Timberlake fan (sorry Justin if youre reading this) mostly because I associated him with the NSYNC girl craze of which I grew up in, but the movie was actually very witty and entertaining. And now Im wondering if I am in love with one of my guy friends and just dont know it. Everyone always says that this one friend and I look at each other a certain way and have “chemistry” … i say no it was “political science” and that was last summer. When I was 18 I fell for my best friend…I remember trying to deny it with every ounce of my being (prolly because I was dating his best friend) When he left to go to bootcamp for the army for 3 months I was hysterical and having a really hard time with it..thats when my mom knew. The summer he came back we were inseperable… sporadic road trips to santa cruz, staying up all night drinking wine and watching movies, walks to nowhere…tatle tale signs of puppy love but “its nothing” to me. I remember talking to my friend JD about it..

JD: I think your in love with kevin

me: yeah right hes just my best friend

JD: do you smile when your with him?

me: yeah all the time

JD: yeah but do you think about him when your not around him?

me: yeah

JD: then youre in love with him amy!!

and i was. cause obviously love is decided in two easy questions. well maybe it was infatuation. i mean who is going to admit to being in love with someone when the relationship developed on adderall and alcohol and ended in split custody and bruises? right. Anyway, the movie just reminded me of that feeling, of knowing that someone is very special to you and not knowing how special.

on another note, i cant stand my mother.  i honestly think she hates me and does not want me to be happy, or at least is so envious of my happiness and good fortune that she takes it out in spite. i wish she would do something with her life so she can stop fucking up everyone elses. i wonder if she can read this? i hope not. but if so, i love you mom but i dont like you and you make me feel like shit.

its amazing how pounding black plastic keys on a board can bring so much joy and resolution. or maybe its the wine. .. did i mention its day three of the fast and after the movie we stopped for our dinner (wine) at the store and grabbed a box of potato salad. we sat, like crack fiends, in the car shoveling down the salad, afraid that a family member would pull into the parking lot and bust us. we stuffed and scrammed, making a clean get away from the scene of the crime. Eric, dont be upset, I was really only doing the fast to support the rest of you, does anyone really think I need to be a skinnier bitch? and plus my eating habits are already extremely healthy. so there. justification at its finest. 🙂

night world.