Hodge Podge

Ok – so I did a total revamp on the blog.  Questions? Comments? Concerns?    Please don’t have concerns – it literally took me like five hours to settle on this background.  I was looking for something less snow-flakey because snow is depressing at any time of the year and I’m honestly not sure why I chose something that resembled snowflakes in the first place.  And it’s nearly impossible to find something reasonable for a background for me because I think they’re all silly.  But whatev.  I settled on this one.  Please don’t hate it.

I’m contemplating running a half-marathon with my sister this fall.  More questions, comments, or concerns?  My concerns are these:   I don’t think I’ll train well by myself.  My headphones don’t stay in my ears when I run.  Could buy different headphones but I’m pretty sure my ears are oddly shaped because this has been an eternal problem.  I must have music to exercise.  There is no way around that.  If it stops I stop.  Seriously.  I can’t even stretch without it.  But I just ordered new running shoes.  New shoes seem to be an excellent motivator.  And I have all summer to train.  So even flying solo I suppose I should give it a shot. 

Plus we’re rounding into wedding season here – which means I need to start getting skinny like yesterday.  Except yesterday we made steak sandwiches and I totally burned Boyfriend’s roll in the toaster oven (like the roll had flames coming out of it) and watched The Office instead of going to the gym.   And I don’t even follow The Office – I just love a good proposal story.  So maybe gym tomorrow.  Maybe.  We also watched Parks and Recreation – and Boyfriend laughs hysterically every time that April girl speak.  He swears she must be my long lost twin and to be honest – I can’t really disagree with him. 

How’s that for a hodge podge of a post?  I don’t usually like hodge podges – unless I’m the first one in line.  I don’t want people sneezing and coughing on food before I get to it.  But in this case it’s been a long week, there is no food involved and I have A.D.D. today - so any chance of a more coherent post was gone before I even got out of bed this morning. Whatever.  Happy weekend.

This is April.  She told a babbling brook to 'shut up' last night while camping.  Which sounds like nothing I would do?

The Walking City

Apparently Boston is called “The Walking City.”  I just learned this.  I should have Googled before I flew there because I totally did not bring the necessary footwear to participate in this weekend’s activities.  Actually I probably should have bought those weird get in shape by walking around sneakers that everyone makes now because I’m pretty sure my butt would look awesome.  But – I didn’t know.  And in my first attempt ever to pack light – I only brought four – yes four – pairs of shoes for my weekend.  Two of which, thankfully were flats.  Actually I probably did bring the appropriate footwear we just decided to walk further than we should have making even the flat shoes – since neither pair were sneakers – less than ideal.

Sister and I got up Saturday morning to head to my cousin’s surprise Bridal Shower.  She was determined to not move her car from where she had finally parked it the night before and Google maps on the BB said it was a twenty-three minute walk.  So we decided to go for it.  Me in heels.  Her in heels.  Me with flats in my giant purse slash school bag.  Her carrying a giant red bag of gifts that we obviously forgot to buy a card for – for the second time in so many showers.  But she did stick some ribbons on that were slightly damaged because my niece had spent some time with them in her mouth.  And we may or may not have dropped the whole thing trying to ‘wrap’ it on the street.  But since we bought cookie sheets and a giant cupcake cake pan – no harm, no foul.  (Sorry Meghan.)

Well after about two blocks uphill I realized my shoes had to go – or we would never make it.  We also realized that Google maps had lied to us and this twenty-three minute walk was a bit of a miscalculation.  But – we couldn’t go back now.  We walked about forty-five minutes, made it to the restaurant sweating and exhausted about ten minutes before my cousin got there.  One Blood Mary, a slice of cake and a couple hours later – we were offered a ride back to where we were staying.  Gratefully we accepted.

Well the next event started sooner than we expected so we just had time to change our outfits and start walking again.  This time – confident of the BB’s GPS calculation of one mile.  Well after a slight detour to find coffee we arrived at our destination.  Upon arrival – and some mild jealousy of the caffeine we were consuming we left again to retrace our steps and acquire one more cup of coffee. 

Later that evening after all the festivities were over – it was time for Sister and I to walk that one mile back to where we were sleeping.  This time both of us were still in heels.  And it may or may not have been approaching 2am.  We got within two blocks of the house and Sister threw in the towel, hailed a cab which drove us the one and a half blocks to the door.  A wise $3 dollar investment all things considered.  And no, we did not remember to look up and find the super moon during our trip home. 

The next day before my flight out I had to avoid the parade to find a cab.  Which apparently the parade is some kind of big deal in South Boston.  And I definitely don’t get it – I mean why would I want to stand in the freezing coldness to watch some grown men drive around in lawn mowers they’ve converted into tiny Mack trucks? And I don’t like loud noises (especially post bachelorette party – more on that later), so the sirens and the horns were just miserable.  And then on top of all that people are throwing candy at me.  I don’t want candy that got thrown on the ground.  And I don’t want candy to hit me in the face either. Anyway.  Parades are dumb.  That’s all I know. 

  And in an effort to leave the city I had to walk some more -carrying my bag - to find a cab.  When I finally found one – he told me he can’t go to Logan airport and made me get out.  Awesome.

The next cab driver was a kinder – more chatty man.  Which I can assure you I was in no condition to chat.  But he insisted on telling me that he drives Derek Jeter and other celebrities around all week long and never once has requested a “signature.” Ok.  And then he almost killed us and he must have seen my face because he then proceeded to attempt to reassure me that he was a good driver and that him driving faster saves me money because of the meter.  Ok.  But saving money means nothing if you drive me into a truck or a lamp post or the ocean. 

While in the cab the radio told me that Boston was called “The Walking City.”  And I’m just telling you - so you can remember that - the next time you think it’s a good idea to carry on a bag for the first time in your life and not pack enough shoe options.  Which, the carrying on thing totally didn’t work out for me because I rode one of those smaller US Airways planes and they ‘gate check’ your bag anyway and I had to wait just as long for it when I got there. Anyway - super fun weekend in Boston.  And many congrats to the beautiful Bride-to-Be. 

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad...Friday

I’m so not a morning person.  Boyfriend and I typically don’t speak after we get up till we kiss each other good-bye if it’s avoidable.  And if he does say something I usually can’t muster up the enthusiasm to respond.  You might think when a Friday rolls around I would adjust my attitude.  Alas, for as those who spoke with me this morning know, Friday makes me no more cheery than any other day of the week.  But today, today was one of those days that made me think I probably should have stopped by the pharmacy drive thru on my way to work to see if they had an extra Prozac lying around.  Fridays are supposed to be the best day of the work week.  This particular Friday failed to live up to expectations.  Here’s why:

I woke up to the realization that I did not get to wear jeans to work today.  Meant I had to iron pants.  I don’t like ironing on Fridays. So I just tossed my pants in the dryer with some towels for 5 mins.

Boyfriend said I had to go to work.  I told him to ask his boss for a raise so I don’t have to go there.  He says me working is part of this deal.  Fine.

Got to work.  New Guy – still don’t know his name – starts crying via Instant Message about me hurting his feelings for not wanting to be his best friend in the whole entire world.  Or maybe he wanted me to do his work for him.  Something like that.  Either way - do I look like I’m here to make friends?   This was when the Prozac would have helped.  I managed to not offer him a tampon even un-medicated. 

I didn’t go tanning on lunch.  I worked through lunch.

I went to use the bathroom – learned I’d not chosen to zip my zipper last time I’d been there hours before.  I’m not four years old.  I should be able to remember how to get dressed.  (I blame New Guy for killing my brain cells with his stupid commentary.)  Good thing I never take my jacket off and it covered this little faux pas.  Thank you North Face for preserving my dignity. 

My office mate then played the Cupid Shuffle for like the 65465753745435753453756^th time since Shannon’s B-Party last summer – forcing me to then dig out my headphones that I hadn’t bothered finding yet so I can drown out this insufferable repetition.    This is not an "at work" song.  This is an "at the bar" song.  Correction.  This was an "at the bar" song.  Like five years ago.

I think that’s all.  Unless some b-word thinks I want to Tango on the 190 on the way home.  Can’t wait to do this all over again next week.  Happy rainy weekend everyone.

*note – I’m totally not on any mood altering prescriptions.  But I bet some people in my life wouldn’t stand opposed. 

I'm pretty sure this was what New Guy looked like for like 3 hours this morning. Except he's not dreamy.  I think Dawson is supposed to be dreamy?  I don't know.  I never watched that show.

 

Opposites Attract

             I’ve been dating Boyfriend for, by my unsentimental calculations, just over a year and a half. But since neither one of us took note of when exactly we introduced ourselves to one another – nor do we care – I just know it’s been a while. I do know we met in June because I asked him to join me for my birthday dinner that July (he refused).  

After our first 'date' he confirmed two things with me –  I cheer for the New York Yankees and I do not vote Democrat.  Check and check.  Aside from that we have few things in common.

 

             Boyfriend loves Dobermen.        I love English Bulldogs.

              He likes all things Hip-Hop.       I love all things not Hip-Hop.  

                                                  Except Eminem.  I do love Eminem.

 

Boyfriend enjoys reality TV.                 Jersey Shore raises my blood 

                                                          pressure to an unhealthy level.

 

He wishes Facebook was never invented.       I love stalking.

 

When I met him he had this                Per the above,

                               Zack Morris phone.                   I must have portable Facebook.

...In his defense, he has a different phone now and is currently waiting on the next version of the Verizon iPhone.  I'm totally jealous that he's going to have a cooler phone than me. 

But the best things about being opposites??

 

                He eats the round ones.           I eat the flat ones. 

HOT and extra crispy for both.  Please and Thanks.

To Tan or Not To Tan

                Being that it’s February.  And that it’s been a brutally cold winter thus far.  And that the first day of spring is still weeks away.  And my lighter “winter shade” of makeup is now too dark for my skin. And that my skin is mostly translucent making me look like a True Blood vampire.  Or like Boyfriend did when he passed out that one time he bumped his ankle.  (He thinks, after thorough internet research, it was a pretty significant ankle injury.  Considering it’s been months and there is still a huge bump where his ankle used to be I might have to agree that it was more serious than I might lead you to believe.  He also thinks I do this kind of thing quite frequently – ya know make his life sound less serious and mine sound WAY  more dramatic.  I’m not convinced.  That sounds like nothing I would ever do.  And also he plays hours of basketball a week on it now.  So it seems to be fine.)   All these things have persuaded me to consider tanning.  

                Financial responsibility pretty much forced me to give up tanning post college.  Well that and the threat of skin cancer.  But I managed to find a sweet internet tanning deal for my preferred salon yesterday.  I’m an amazing internet shopper.  I could spend hours finding things for the cheapest price possible.  This does not mean I am frugal.  (Can a girl who went to private college twice, on purpose, even use the word frugal?)   This means I still spend all my money and just get more things.  This also results in a pile of packaging boxes taking over the spare bedroom b/c we don’t have a recycle bin and I feel guilty throwing them out.  

                Anyway, my sister used to tell me that tanning would also help to cheer me up and since this whole week I’ve been all …

“I hate work”

“I hate school”

“I hate people who drive on the same roads as me”

“I hate my micro-lunch I packed”

“I hate people who sit in the chair next to me in class”

“Why can’t I eat only pop-tarts all day every day?”

…it just may be time for an attitude adjustment.

                 I’m not hoping to look all Jersey Shore, Oompa-Loompa, just spent a year on an African safari kind of tan.  I just need to look more sun-kissed and less walking-dead.    And since I managed to get $30 worth of tanning for $4 I’m going to take that as a sign from above that I should take a few minutes this next week for some fake sun.   

Here’s to the Groundhog being right this year.  Spring please come quickly.

No, he's not mine.  But it looks like we would be good buddies.

Writing Prompts

 

                Being the truly enthusiastic blogger I have been, of late, I Googled ‘writing prompts’ this afternoon, in hopes of coming up with something amusing to blog about. After a few random topic generators failed to inspire I came across a site that suggested this:

Find pictures of yourself as a child. Imagine your child self asking your present self to tell a story. What story to you make up?

           I instantly recalled a picture of myself that resurfaced this past Thanksgiving, much to the amusement of my younger sisters, and my friends, but not my boyfriend.  Boyfriend seems to think the fewer people who are aware of this picture the better the world will be.  I say.  Whatev.  I do, however, apologize for the poor picture quality - but it is a picture of a picture.  And a not well preserved original at that.

Circa 1985

                  

                   While I'm not going to tell my poor child self a story, I will tell you that my very beautiful younger sister nearly fell out of her chair laughing when I pulled this beauty out of the pile of pictures we were sorting.  I also asked my mother why she continued having babies after me.  I am confident I would have just thrown in the towel with a "well we tried."   She insisted, as all mothers must, that she thought I was beautiful and showed me off to anyone who would stand still long enough.  

 

                   Some of my friends, when they recover from their laughing fit resulting from this picture, have commented that it's not that bad.  Oh yes it is.  And it better not show up in some slide show years from now at a rehearsal dinner or at my funeral.  Some have confiscated the blackberry so they can send themselves personal copies.  And my friend Emily announced to our table that I look like the baby Grinch.  The iPhone confirmed it.  I do, in fact, look like the Grinch.  I mean even the hair is similar.

What do you think?

             

             I wish I could say the next baby pictures we found over Thanksgiving was a significant improvement but that one was probably from 1987.  My sister (who was a gorgeous baby per all her baby pictures) was dressed to match me and were both work lilac purple dresses with smocking and collars that made us look more like iguanas than anything else. And the picture was one of those classic eighties poses, edited to look like I was a floating head in the background.  I should tell you, I did grow into my cheeks as a toddler and those pictures are much less embarrassing.  Also, my bangs started at the back of my skull.  Ahh the 80's.  

                  I think we can all just agree on one thing - thankfully I didn't turn out looking like this:

                

                  

AIM

Do you remember what stalking people was like before Facebook?  Mid-chat with friends this week, on a grown up Instant Messaging application, g-chat – the Google IM function – my friend asked me about my AIM screen name.  (Ha.)  We discussed how our ingenious and inspired pseudo internet identifiers from middle school, managed to follow us around right through our early 20’s.   I obviously had to try to log in to my AIM account to see if I still remembered a.) What the password is, b.) Who anyone on my buddy list is in real life.

                I was thats upsetting.  My best friend from middle school set up my account for me.  She was thats depressing.  Don’t we sound like a fun pair?  I think the inspiration came from our favorite phrases at the time.  Later she cheered up and became to thats enjoyable.  I stuck with the original and my screen name turned into my nickname in the dorms.  Apparently it has a better ring to it than Rachel?

            The best part of AIM was the away msg.  You remember, insight into the depths of your soul- bolded, highlighted, and italicized so all your friends could spend a few minutes trying to decipher what exactly you must be trying to convey to the world.  Certainly the best Away Msg to find was a copy and pasted conversation – with a screen name you didn’t recognize.  I truly enjoyed adding these unidentified people to my buddy list and studying their profiles to figure out who they were.  (Or was I the only AIM stalker?)

            Profiles were important.  Girl’s profiles pretty much had a standardized format.  Your college, graduation year, some song lyrics, a shout out to your friends – cryptically identified with code names or initials, and they your obligatory kissy emoticon to the significant other.  And if you were a lucky stalker – people would link in their webshots.  That was the real jackpot. 

But that’s why I love Facebook.  It completely eliminated the convoluted process of determining my friends activities by making everything easily available for me to see whenever I so choose.  Not that we've evolved much really - I mean aren't statuses the exact same thing as an away msg?  But I must say thank you to Facebook for consolidating my friends updates so I don't have to open individual windows to see where everyone is.

 

AIM was a great tool in college though.  (This was the early 2000’s after all – we weren’t all texting yet.)  Some conversations were just better written out.  Left room for interpretation.  Gave us time to consult with the roommate to devise the most appropriate response to a boyfriend’s or not-yet boyfriend’s statement.  But most importantly it introduced me to the world of electronic communication – my one true love.