Valentine's Day

I know, I know....

I know, I know everyone, I've been battling this awful flu mixed with the crazy life of Shan Fran. BUT don't worry I'd never let you or myself down...I'm coming back with full recaps!

Say you'll forgive me! :( I can't do this without you!

Kisses!
Shan Fran

DAY 11: SUPERBOWL

Day 9: 5-6-7-8

Day 8: I heart Shan Francisco

Day 7: I Think There's a Thong on Your Back?

Day 6: Dayquil Dreams

My heavy eyelids barely opened as I flung my arm over my body to silence the Super Mario Bros. tune ringing from my phone. Normally, I wake up feeling like Princess Peach but on this given morning it was obvious that I had caught whatever was going around the Mushroom Kingdom. Ugh, the burning sensation attacking my poor throat, it felt as if I had just swallowed an entire garden of fire flowers. I hate getting sick! The rush of instant depression swept over me as I realized that I have no one; NO ONE I tell you, to make me feel better during a time of crisis like this. Even my two roommates are gone. If I died nobody would know! More importantly, if I was in desperate need of a cup of Chicken Noodle soup nobody would know…what a travesty! It’s true, I get so mellow dramatic when I’m under the weather. I might be 26 years old, but give me a fever, runny nose, sore throat and trust me I’ll be weeping while I cry out “I want my mommy.”  I laid there making deals with the Health Gods to please, no matter what, bypass any signs of feverish chills!

I’m not sure if the Gods heard me so just I let my lifeless body sink into my Tempurpedic mattress like the freaking Titanic. If only I had a Jack Dawson to come save me from this. All kidding aside ladies, I tend to lust after Leonardo DiCaprio when I’m sick. It’s a little trick I picked up awhile back. Not a complete cure but definitely helps to put my mind at ease for just a few minutes. Sometimes I can even predict the duration of my snot storm and when to expect clear skies and sunshine again.  For example, I take a deep breath in, close my eyes and relax my mind. Then comes the moment of no return, it’s kind of like those childhood chapter books where I could customize the story (by the way brilliant for a control-freak kid like myself). If I unconsciously go straight to the heart-wrenching scene when Jack’s frozen body sinks to the ocean floor (turn to page 57) than I know I better clear my schedule for the rest of the week. Ugh, it gets me every time. What a way to go down Jack (no pun intended). BUT if my mind so wonderfully envisions the ever-so sexy, sweaty, rugged Leonardo DiCaprio in the backseat of a vintage ride (“ehhh must be the moneyyy,” go to page 4); well, then I know that I’m still capable of having rational thoughts and making good decisions. Alas, that’s how I know I’ll be just fine! On a side note, I can’t leave the subject of Titanic without saying, one: what I would give to be Kate Winslet. I mean she looks just fabulous as she’s draped across that beautiful settee. Number two: where can I find that boulder of a diamond so I too can have it impeccably perched on my chest in an attempt to make   it look as flawless as Kate’s? Just so you know, my head is already deep sea diving today so that’s not a viable option if that was your first thought ;) Seriously though, that necklace is the ultimate body improvement piece. Forget plastic surgery, I’d just keep that sucker around my neck at all times. It’s totally normal. Some people go to the gym wearing ankle weights. I’d rather throw on the Heart of the Ocean necklace. No big deal.

That’s when I realized that my lingering thoughts of the gym just totally prevented my morning’s daydreaming. Of course gym guilt had to come in and steal my spotlight. Such a Heidi Montag move. Nothing left to do but royally get over it, so I flung the covers off my legs and rolled to my feet with the grace of a roller derby girl. I waddled, well semi-crawled, to the bathroom and gave “suitable for public,” my best shot. After a 10-minute tooth brushing (I had to pause and take cover for each wave of nausea), I finally had the strength to put on my workout gear. Ironically, trying to fit D-sized ta-tas into a Lululemon sports bra can most definitely cause a sweat break if not done properly. What’s that, you don’t agree? Lemme guess, you wear an A huh? Yeah, I’m talking about a whole different set of problems over here. Anyway, I grabbed the essentials and on my way I went. Walking down the driveway’s steps, okay fine tripping down the steps, I popped the lock to my car and got in accepting the fact that it was about to carry me to my final resting place. 24-hour Fitness! God help my soul if Britney Spears is still blasting from my speakers when that time actually comes. Yet, nothing gets me more pumped for the treadmill like “Hit Me Baby One More Time.” I straggled through the front door, looking and feeling like it was New Years Day. Do I reek of vodka, because the tween at the front desk flashed me that “are you OK” look? Aren’t you supposed to be in Home Ec, little girl? I told myself, “act your age Shan Francisco.” My energy level at that point was at five percent. I knew if I wasted any of it on Front Desk Miley, than I deserved to be on bed rest.

I climbed to the top of my fate and just stood there for a second. With my morning’s previous Leo lusting, I actually contemplated a quick “I’m the king of the world” arm reach as I rested atop the elliptical. Good thing I glanced over my shoulder before I did so because there was a damn cute man running behind me. Wait, what the hell he’s looking this way? Oh thank god I didn’t just pull a total 1998 blockbuster move. That could have been so mortifying. Why did I think that was even an option? Who am I? Seriously, I’m embarrassed that it even crossed my mind. Great, now I’m blushing. He’s going to think I like him. Breathe Shan Fran, breath. Last time I checked spontaneous panic attacks were NOT at the top of most men’s “biggest turn-ons list.” For starters, he’s probably not even looking at me. Just watch it’s something like I’m blocking his view of ESPN. Hmm that’s weird though, The View is on every TV around me? Ohhhh silly me…yup, he’s gay. I swear this always happens to me. Honestly, it’s got to be a combination of sorts because eyeballing gay men has become an all too frequent occurrence these days. Here’s the thing, one: straight men in Los Shangeles don’t exactly do their best to stand out if you know what I mean. Was I supposed to pick up on the fact that you’re batting for my team by the glow of your spray tan? Ahhh okay, I get it now. I totally missed my cue. Of course the designer jeans that you clearly just painted on, your perfectly manicured/highlighted hair that most likely involved a bottle of gel, hairdryer and tools from a high school geometry class, and imposter diamond earrings… are a dead-ringers for “I’M STRAIGHT.” Do you see what I have to work with people? However, before I let my inner Joan Rivers become too cynical; I’ll allow myself a quick double-take. Just to be 100% sure. From what I initially saw this guy seemed manlier than most. Smoothing down my fly-away hairs, I gave my ponytail a quick tousle for instant volume.  Oooh c’mon Shan hurry, where’s that damn quick start button? I want my butt to look as tight as possible when I throw my head over my shoulder and casually peek back giving him my best sultry Shan Francisco look. No but seriously, am I blind? I thought that whole point of the button being bright green was to ensure that it’d be easy to find? At this rate I’d have more luck reading brail. Ah-ha, found it! Remind me to file a complaint with the manufacturers of this machine when I get home. This damn elliptical almost ruined my game. Alright,  now in motion; finally, the time has come! I turned my head…and what the hell?!?! He’s walking toward me??? Why is he walking over here?...

STAY TUNED!!! I know, I’m awful…so sorry to do that to you folks but the rest of this story is just too important to keep rambling on now. Trust me, you’ll be glad when I pick back up for Day 7.

Kisses!

Shan Francisco

DAY 5: DR. 90210

Shan Francisco is SICK. I am going to sleep tonight to rest up for tomorrow's tale. Stayed Tuned.

Kisses!
Shan Francisco

Day 4 (slash Day 3 recap): Call me the Black Eyed Peas because “I’ve got a feeling” alright and it’s called hungry!

Is fashionably-late not a common party procedure at the Jersey Shore? Or does the Situation always show up to events five hours before they begin? As the Grammy’s staff hauled-ass to set up the infamous crimson brick road of musical dreams, the Situation wandered around aimlessly in his eye-catching bedazzled Ed Hardy hoodie and XXL sweatpants. “Ugh, are you here to set up? You Got Served 2 is actually filming in the other lot?” What a camera stage 5 clinger! It’s truly shameful how intrigued I am by him though. I love him the same way I love those self-taken Facebook pictures. You know the deal, when someone snaps their picture in the mirror but looks the other way like, “Oh, I didn’t know I was being photographed?” Really, the fluorescent flash ricocheting from your mirrored reflection or the fact that your own index finger is in complete control of the capture button, didn’t at least tip you off that your picture was about to be taken? If I’m supposed to buy that you might as well say Heidi Klum and Marissa Miller actually model for Lane Bryant. It’s the same type of blatant lie! I know that I’ve only given myself 60 days to get my butt into NFL cheerleader shape, but after standing next to those two goddesses on last night’s red carpet, I couldn’t be more motivated! Normally this is when I’d give myself the ultimate Shan Francisco denial pep talk. “Perfect is always possible with PhotoShop.” Yet, I proudly say that I couldn’t have been more wrong…there’s no ounce of airbrushed perfection when it we’re dealing with those two ladies. I would gladly forgo one night with George Clooney if it meant I could look like that at some point in my life. But then again, if I were Heidi Klum or Marissa Miller the choice to forgo George Clooney is as likely as Spencer Pratt shaving his nasty blonde chin-hairs. Let’s face it, from here on out I’m keeping a sleeping bag and toothbrush in my gym locker.

As if I haven’t been there enough this past week. Shoot, at this rate I should think about trying out for the Real Housewives of Orange County. Those ladies poor kids have no idea that K through 6 isn’t held at 24-hour and recess doesn’t involve elliptical machines. Although I should probably watch what I say considering I’m childless now; but one day I might actually become that mom benching 180 with such a stellar boob job I can do the 3 Stooges eye-poke using just my chest. Wouldn’t that be great for birthday parties? Oh, the talent that $10,000 can buy. All kidding aside, I had to remind myself today that 60 minutes on the stair-stepper is more than enough. This can’t possibly be what Heidi does every day? Ahh, but even if it is I’m clearly getting ahead of myself. Let’s be real, I’ve got a lot more than pretend steps of air standing in between my future twin, Mrs. Seal and I. For starters, taking off these cheetah pajama pants that I so cleverly turned into Shan Francisco shants and my favorite over-sized In-N-Out T-shirt would help. Over-sized really doesn’t even begin to explain it. I accidentally caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror…did Starr Jones have a garage sale? More importantly why am I wearing hamburger paraphernalia, is that really necessary?

Since we’re talking about my half-a-side-of-beef cravings, my girls and I were starving by the time our Grammy escapade ended and decided to grab a bite to eat at the ever-so-yummy Yard House. I’m gonna put it out there, soy beans and soup is not as appetizing as you think when you’re being cornered by mouth-watering burgers, savory fries and rich/creamy/cheesy spinach dip. I warned my friends that on this given night each trip taken to the restroom is without-a-doubt risky. Buyer beware, I make no promises about the safety of your plate. I don’t why Lo was so mad when half of her turkey avocado sandwich was missing? She knew what was on the line… I can’t help it if she doesn’t listen. Oh well, I think she bought my bit about the turkey recall sweeping across California. The news just broke! I had our waiter take it away immediately. For all she’s concerned I saved her life right? Some call it selfish but I like to think of it as considerate. I know this to be true because of how great of an older sister I am. I genuinely thought my little sister was going to faint and or pee her pants as fabulous Adam Lambert strutted toward us as he made his way to the Grammy’s entrance. She stood there in stone cold silence, I thought, “wow I think she’s in love.” I didn’t see the need to remind her that even Lil Kim couldn’t snag him with her magic stick. Why crush such an adolescent dream? So being the guiding light that I am, I did the next best thing. I leaned over to refresh Adam’s memory about the bonding experience we had at a Los Shangeles night club about a month ago. I figured it’d break the ice. Who knows if he actually remembered me (5’5, blonde hair and green eyes isn’t exactly rare in this town) but he still smiled as I attempted to charm him.

   

It was completely inappropriate for someone in my position to do but what can I say, family comes first. I let him know that my kid sister adored him and had her bedroom walls covered in his pictures. Thinking about it now that could have either sounded cute or semi-pornographic. Maybe I should have said my kid brother? In any event, he was so gracious and agreed to an autograph for her. Now, desperate times call for desperate measures and during an event like this you’ve really only got a few seconds to get what you want. Seriously, no more and no less; so I reached for the only form of paper I had--an emergency tampon hiding in the pocket of my jacket. What? Paper is paper, and more importantly it’s Adam Lambert! Not doing so would be like meeting Madonna for the first time and not having your cone bra on as back-up. Contrary to popular belief, Hollywood is a very accepting town. Oh to see her eyes light up as I handed her the freshly branded tampon. It was so worth it. I’d have him sign an entire box full just to see that look on her face again; partially because she was so happy but mostly because I find her obsession just hysterical. By the way, in case you were wondering my “kid sister” that I speak about is actually 23 years old. So before you go on thinking I’m the crazy girl in the Shan Fran family, just stop and think about the fact that she has a signed Adam Lambert tampon. Enough said. I mean, it’s the Grammy’s anything goes. For Christ sake, did you see Lady Gaga’s getup? I’m still trying to figure out how she actually made E!’s Best Dressed List in that solar system of a dress. Or why the words “Hi Kid Cutie, I’m Shan Francisco and I’ll be taking you down the carpet.” Bless his heart and his girlfriend for going along with it. It wasn’t until the end when we parted ways that she told me to shout them a holler next time I’m in New York so she and her beau, Kid Cudi (ehh-um NOT Kid Cutie) would show me around. Damn, there goes my future in the rap biz ;)

So all-in-all, Day 3 and 4 were loads of fun. I have to say it’s much easier to forget about how sore my legs are, the nutritional Mojave Desert currently stretching from my esophagus to my intestines, and the new found side-drool sleeping habit that I’ve picked up from images of dancing donuts in my dreams, when the Grammy’s are in town. To cap it all off, Béyonce’s performance that night reminded me of how lucky I am to be a young, beautiful and powerful woman. She proves my theory that through hard work and practice everything gets better with time. Not to mention, only Béyonce could sing about becoming a boy and still make men swoon, to all of a sudden switch it up and cover Alanis Morissette’s angry love song about Full House’s Uncle Joey and not look crazy. You go girl! I can’t wait to channel my inner Béyonce on March 28th!!!

Till tomorrow…

Kisses!

Shan Francisco