a vodka press and a shot of blog

PARTE UNO
This blogasauras is dedicated to my long time friend Olivia, who is in my opinion a "social demon." I am on the tour de livia, with the weekend off work and my boyfriend out of town I am at a loss with how to spend my time. So last night I went to a Vestal party where she toted me around like a brand new maltese introducing me to the creme de la creme of newport-mesa society. I must tip my hand and raise my drink to the fine leaders of the skate industry in Costa Mesa for throwing countless parties, without which we may never see such an amount of fine looking young men drinking Colt45 in such a confined area. Eventually the beer ran out, I lost my cellphone, check-card, and my voice, so it was time to go...
I washed away this mornings hangover with my fave saturday morning ritual: brunch at the Cannery. With a few of my best boys working and and friends lining the bar-top its always a good time. Charlie pours some of the tastiest cocktails on this side of Lido bridge, and we always appreciate the impeccable service. The afternoon seems to be escaping me.. the beach is calling my name...


PARTE DOS
The opportunity to ingest mind and mood altering liquids arose far too quickly yesterday, and consequently I never posted part one of my weekend endeavors. Before I could entirely sober up from the afternoon at the cannery I was en route to Hogue Barmichael’s for my first ever Dirty Heads show. Double vodka press was the drink of the evening , and possibly the drink of the summer. The company was some of my favorite party people and my oldest drinking buddies. My most beloved guy friends who at one point in life puled me out of the gutter by my bootstraps after I was dumped like a bad habit, were super stoked on the band so I had high expectations... I was in no way disappointed. Dirty Heads totally kill it. With a fine long haired duo behind microphones spitting positive lyrics that make you want to light and joint and kick back a good time was had by all. Danielle my sister was a drunken source of joy all night who now says, “I quit counting after my second vodka press...oops.” I’d like to thank my taxi driver for taking us to taco bell on the way home, because that baja chicken chalupa most likely saved my life.

Summer Time

I am increasingly aware of how little control I have over my life. Its like being stuck in a rip tide and before you know it you're in way over your head and some huge mexican dude has to pull you out of the white wash by your wrists (true story from friday)... I like going to yoga because you have total control over your body and mind. Saturday night I relinquished that responsibility by ingesting a questionable substance and staring at the stars for hours on end in search of questions for all the answers I had just found. I wondered what I had always been so scared of all this time, and tried to ignore how much fun I had been missing out on. It was the longest day of the year and riding home later around midnight there was as many people out at blackies as there were during the day... people were still looking for parking!! The tide was so high it was nearly at the sea wall and the moon was so low and orange it looked like another planet. I was amazed waking up the next morning to find the world still in the same place i had left it the day before. There was little time to dwell on my journey because sunday afternoon was rapidly approaching and that meant beer, sun, and an outdoor PRICKS show at Chronic Cantina in Triangle Square. I wore my blonde bobbed wig and some high waisted jean overall shorts. There is something about being blonde for a day that I love so much. Sometimes people don't recognize me and I never correct anyone when they really think that I lobed off my long brown ringlets. The Pricks killed it; as always. They rock so hard they blew out the power on their first song and had to take an early intermission. The Heffs were cold, the boobs were huge, and the heat was melting my wig to my head. Al in all it was a great afternoons and of course the PRICKS did not disappoint. I finished it all off by swimming around like a twelve year old. Now that it is Monday morning and I can look back on the mayhem I have no regrets, and can only look foreword for the chance to do it all over again and give it all up to the higher power of the party gods...

Starting Somewhere

At twenty one I am learning a hard concept; things take time. College apparently can take more than 4 years, a tight ass takes more than a few jogs and a yoga class, becoming an actress is not as easy as I originally anticipated, and even this blog will take some time to become a work of intelligent art and insight or even a babble of gossip and bullshit. So please bear with me as I bear with myself on this uphill climb to whatever we are all looking for. I have a good eye behind the camera and a nice flow behind my pen; I very much enjoy doing both. I moved to California from a small town in Minnesota with stars in my eyes and dreams of making it big. For the past three years I have resiliently gone out on audition after audition in search of my big break, which I am still on a quest for. I live on the beach with my sister and serve countless cocktails to pay for my mini zen cave, and the life I insist on living. I am for the most part happy and as well adjusted as I could be expected to be in this day and age; though slightly off kilter and off beat my biggest fear is being average and forgotten. So here we are to forever cement on the internet the life, love, and setbacks of yours truly: Rose Blacque.