Thursday, September 30, 2010

you know something's wrong when I can't even muster up a smartass post title

Like approximately 99% of the rest of the female population, I struggle with weight and body issues. This really isn't a shocking revelation, or at least it shouldn't be. I've written about it many times but never posted it. I've alluded to it in several things that I have posted.

Part of me doesn't want to be part of that statistic. That I've succumbed to what I've been made to believe I should look like. That I'm letting the media and their unrealistic standards of beauty permeate my subconscious and rattle my self-esteem.

The other part of me just doesn't want to admit that I've gotten fat.

Sure, sure. These days Fat is the new black. Obesity blah blah. McDonald's. Convenience. Genetic modifications. There's something to blame for everything.

I was 120 pounds when I graduated high school. More than that, I was not only thin, but I was athletic and healthy. In short? I was the good kind of hot.

Like everyone else, I gained a lot of weight in college. Then I got a desk job. And then I turned 25 which is basically the milestone for having to pay attention to what's going on or you're going to get wrinkles and a muffin top that won't ever go away.

It's not so much that I want to look like I did when I was eighteen. (Though if I magically woke up with that same body, you can bet your ass I wouldn't complain.) I've also said many, many times that I'd rather be a little bit bigger and have some curves than to be grossly underweight with no rack and a visible ribcage.

What I want is to look in the mirror and not want to cry. I want to not have to re-take photos of myself three times to "get a better angle" or to hide that second chin or wrap a hoodie around me to disguise my arms and stomach. I want to not change my clothes three times before I go somewhere because I'm afraid people will whisper catty remarks behind my back about how she should not be wearing that.

I want for my friends to not complain about how they've moved up to a size 6 or how their life is over if they have to put on anything over a 10. I would kill to be a size 6, shit, a size 10. Even a size 12 again. It's hard to be sympathetic to other peoples' body issues when you envy them for what they do have.

I want to be comfortable. I want to be confident.

Mostly... I'm tired, I'm so very tired, of hating myself.

I'm going to be honest. I don't think I'm unattractive - if I can look past the flaws. I think I'm pretty and I generally have an okay view of myself. I have ridiculously huge blue eyes. I have decent skin. I have great hair that has a lot of potential if I was better trained in how to style it. I have great boobs. I have nice teeth and a pretty smile (thanks, orthodontia!). I have cute little feet. I have healthy, well-shaped fingernails. (Yes, I am searching for things now. I'll take whatever I can get.)

I also practice hard-core image maintenance to make sure that the rest of the world sees what I want to see.

I'll strategically crop photos. I'll delete ones that are horribly unflattering. I'll nudge that second chin into submission in Photoshop so it's realistic and yet doesn't make me want to cringe. So, sure. I like pictures of myself. When I have complete control of them. I pick which ones I post and which ones are "acceptable."

Because the only thing worse than having to look at myself and hate what I see, is the thought of other people judging me and hating what they see.

Because for every thing about myself that I like, there are two that I hate. My upper arms and how wide they are and how they tend to, um, jiggle. How pale my skin is. My bad posture. My thighs and their cellulite. My chubby hands and my stubby little fingers. My beat up legs that have knicks and bruises from God knows what but probably my own uncoordination. How wide my ass is. How my ears sometimes stick out a little bit. That extra layer of skin under my chin. The sound of my voice. How frizzy my hair can get when I don't slather it in product. My hips. My waist. My pant size. My dress size. The fact that I can't buy shirts because if I'm lucky enough to find one to accommodate my breasts, it probably still looks like shit around my stomach. And, the thing I hate most of all: the ubiquitous stomach fat.

The further I go in this list, the closer I am to tears, just sitting at my computer, typing stupid words and naming off body parts.

I was sitting on my bed the other day, post-shower, wrapped in a towel, debating what to wear. Because I am too lazy to put things away, much of my wardrobe was conveniently folded, stacked, or strewn within my range of sight.

Then I looked closer at one of the shirts just laying on top.

And the sheer amount of fabric used to make a shirt that fit me.

This is not okay. It is not okay to hate myself as much as I do.

And I know, I know, the things I should be doing. I need to eat healthier. I need to find time to exercise. I need to go on walks during my lunch break or dig up the Couch to 5K program or try this diet or count those calories.

You know what, though? I struggle with anything that requires a lifestyle change.

It's not that I don't want to, or that I couldn't. But some days, I'm barely emotionally hanging on as it is. If I have to pacify my inner demons by taking a nap rather than taking a walk, I will. If the only thing that makes me feel like I'm going to keep my sanity is half a frozen pizza, I will throw that shit in the oven. I just don't always feel like I've got a good enough grip on myself as it is, without throwing in the emotional instability of uprooting my current (shitty) routine.

And, guys? It's expensive to eat healthy, to live healthy.

And money is just something I don't have.

I make excuses for myself and I know this. I also know that while maybe I'm not genetically predisposed to be thin, I used to be genetically predisposed to carry around much less weight than this. There's some vague term trying to come to the front of my brain from one of my psych classes, I want to say it is something like "regression to the mean" which is a large factor in why a lot of people can't lose weight. Their "mean" (average) body size is set at a certain point, and their body will naturally try to gravitate back to that. So if you are meant to be 145 pounds, and you get down to 120, chances are, you won't stay there. Not because of anything you are doing, but because that is how you are built.

This is only relevant because I feel like my mean size is much lower than where it's at. So there is a point I can get to. There is a point I should be able to reach and maintain without too much difficulty, if I were to try.

The hardest part is getting started, it always is. And I'm going to. I'm going to do something. Because I can't even look at myself anymore and that needs to stop.

Thus concludes our pity party for tonight.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Cupcakes, Chinese Pizza, and Cougar Lesbians

This, friends, is the story of my 26th birthday.

Maturity comes later, yes?

I went to work on Thursday, with my favorite black and pink skirt that I got at a thrift store with Maria a few months back, because what is your birthday if not an excuse to wear your favorite clothing pieces?, and was greeted with a bunch of streamers and a few little gifties on my desk, and even though we always pass around a card for everyone to sign for their birthdays, I am getting increasingly sappy with my old age, and I damn near got emotional from it. My coworkers are sweet and I love them.

And there were cupcakes. Oh, lord, there were cupcakes.

Three different people brought cupcakes. The cupcakes overfloweth.

I am not sure how many I ate. I lost count around five.

I hereby deem 26 the Year of the Cupcake.

Anyway it was a fun day at work, I know a lot of people take their birthdays off, but I like hanging out with my coworker peeps, so I never do. (I always take the day after off). (And not because I plan to be hungover, which I'm sure is the assumption. I didn't even have plans for that night, so there.) I was bombarded all day with facebook messages and while I know that annoys a lot of people because all these people mysteriously come out of the woodwork to wish them a happy birthday, I am a giant attention whore and I adore the onslaught of e-love.

Anywho. My birthday itself was pretty tame. After work I braved the drizzle (this is a big feat when you've taken the time to straighten your hair!), went to Best Buy to purchase the Pink Camera, and hung out with Calee and her boy, later joined by Molly, and there were noms. Then I talked to my dad, mom, and grandparents on the phone, using a shocking amount of minutes on my plan since I NEVER TALK ON THE PHONE, and went home and played with the camera after the battery was all charged up. Then I went to bed.

I know, you're on the edge of your seat now.

Then on Friday (yes, you are getting a full play by play), I went and got my hair chopped off, and then I went to go wedding dress shopping with my friend Steph, which will warrant its own post but sadly no pictures, because I can't be giving that shit away, and then... The Festivities.

I changed my clothes at least once because I am super struggling with my weight right now, which, again, probably its own post at another time, and I hate hate hate the way I look right now and I was feeling especially self conscious because, you know, I chopped off all my hair and could no longer hide behind it, and then my gay bf arrived all the way from across the state because he LEFT ME for a JOB (that bitch) and there was a giddy middle-of the-street bouncy reunion hug, and then we collected our car-load of peeps and set off for the bright city lights of Des Moines.

Or, something.

So anyway. We arrive at my favoritest place ever, which is a little spot called Fong's Pizza, who has the greatest pizza in the entire world, of things you would never even imagine, of which we primarily feast upon their Crab Rangoon Pizza which, seriously, will give you mouth orgasms. Mouthgasms. It's delicious.

Naturally, it's always busy, so I expected a wait.

They estimated 20 minutes to 2 hours.

That's quite the fucking window.

So we're like, great, put us down, here's our cell number, we're going to go across the street and get martinis. (Because this place happens to be in my favorite little corner of Des Moines, conveniently right across the street from my favorite bar. EFFICIENT.)

Our wait ended up being approximately a half an hour. Which means that nearly everyone still had full drinks and had to chug their martinis.

Including Calee, who had a dirty martini that was primarily composed of gin.

You can imagine how she felt after that.

Hee.

Anyway we went and had our glorious pizza and hung out there for a while and did their Kamikaze shot in which the shot-taker gets to wear a crash helmet, and I'm just going to say it, that was probably the highlight of the entire night if not week if not month. It was so much ridiculous fun. Loved it.

(Side: why do kamikaze pilots even need helmets? Think on that and let me know.)

Finally we decided to clear out because someone else was probably waiting for our table because someone is always waiting for a table here, and so we poured out into the street, filled with indecision and the need to drink grown-up beverages.

We ended up deciding to go to the gay bar because about half of our contingent had never been, and why the hell not?

So off we went! It was a little sad, there were only 3 drag queens performing that night, two of which I'd never seen before, and my favorite was not there, but we got all the newbies to tip them, so that's always fun to watch.

Now, for as many times as I've been to this particular bar, I've never gotten hit on by any of the lesbians. I've gotten eyeballed once, but never approached. Tonight, however, the lesbians were on the prowl.

We were first approached by a really drunk, young lesbian who had taken a liking to Calee. Who kind of looked at her, and looked at me, and was like "that's your girlfriend, right?" and Calee was like, "uh... sometimes" and honestly it wouldn't have been hard to play that out because people probably do think we're Together. She kind of wistfully peaced out and was back on the hunt, and we told Calee that that's what she got for wearing flannel to a gay bar.

Later, this older lady, henceforth to be known as the Cougar Lesbian, came up to our table, looked Calee up and down, and was like, "what are you, twelve?" and then proceeded to tell her that she was going to look like her when she got to be her age. Which was 56. As she announced.

She then turned to me and shook my hand, leaned in and said, "You're straight, aren't you?" to which I replied, "yeah..." and I actually felt kind of bad, not that she was, you know, my type, if I had a type of woman, but I'm bad at rejection, and she was like, "you're hot" and I'm like, "thanks" and she was like, "I picked you out special out of this whole room" and I'm like Omg, awkward. And she kept shaking my hand. I... don't really know.

I mean, despite having an easy out (being straight and all), it's always, always awkward to get hit on in a bar by someone you're not interested in.

Sigh.

After that, we kind of had a hard time deciding what else to do, so we just kind of went home. I went to lunch with Tyler the next day at our "famous" BBQ place (I never get BBQ there? Their burgers are heavenly though) (supposedly Harrison Ford has been there, like, made a special trip to get there, because why the hell else would he be here?), whatever, it's a landmark in central Iowa and the wait is almost as bad as Fong's even though it's like five times as big, because it's always stupidly busy, and got sung to by the waitstaff but, whatever, I wanted my free ice cream and it was totally within the 3 day window of my birthday so I earned it.

If you like ice cream, you will die when you see their menu. It is the ice cream menu of your DREAMS.

I think someone around here owes me a check for promoting local businesses, eh?

Anyway.

It was a glorious birthday and I would be a terrible, terrible person if I didn't leave you with some pictures. I was going to try to limit myself but there are SO MANY good ones, and, well. We'll see how I do.


We didn't even make it out of the parking lot before the pictures started.


That's, erm, our skyline. More or less.


This actually took a great deal of balance to pull off.

This is one of my favorites. Like, ever. Not just of this night.

This is my new favorite picture of all time.





Yeah. Admit it. You wish you could have been there. It fucking rocked. I love my peeps. Love love love.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

I'm Your Biggest Fan, I'll Follow You Until You Love Me

Get it? It's a line from "Paparazzi"? Because I'm going to talk about cameras?

HAHAHAHA.

Anyway. As we all know, my little Nikon bit the big one last week, and I was desperate to replace it. Because I can't be without a camera. I just can't.

And while I loved my old Olympus and was really intrigued by their smashproof/waterproof/freezeproof/drop-proof/fireproof/bulletproof model, Best Buy simply did not have any in stock, they all had to be ordered in, and that was unacceptable, because I needed it immediately, and I had made up my mind to buy it at Best Buy because with their protection plan, if you spill on it or drop it and it breaks, they'll fix it/replace it. (cue angel chorus here.) It's $35, sure, but cheaper than buying a new camera. Also? Target's extended plan? Does not cover things that are YOUR fault. Bitches.

Anyway. I roamed the little island of cameras and hated all of them because I don't even know why, just because I had to be difficult, I guess, and I played with them and I couldn't even get the display off the color-select mode where it picks one color and everything else is in black and white from the Canon that everyone was mostly recommending which I guess is a popular selling point, but for me, completely unnecessary, because I don't care about it, I think my Nikon did that too, and you know how many times I used that?

Once, when I first got it, and was playing with my settings.

I was veeeeery tempted by the cheapy Samsung that has the dual screen - you know, there's a screen on the front, so when you're holding out the camera in front of you and taking pictures, you can SEE IT. This is nifty, because I take a lot of those. I'm pretty decent at getting everyone in the shot, but, still. NIFTY. Alas, the Best Buy guy was all, that camera sucks, and my hopes were deflated, and I was all, fine, what camera do you suggest then, Mr. Dream Ruiner, and he brings me back to the Canons and I ask random questions and he answers them satisfactorily, even though mostly I'm trusting my friend Danielle's opinion because (a) she used to sell cameras and (b) she knows how often I use my camera and the type of pictures I take, but, alas, she is all the way in Jersey now, and I made her start a blog so I could follow her life now, anyway, it was the same camera she had recommended (I sent her a panicked email after the Discovery of Doom), so I sent her a text asking which of the two Canons I should get, and she didn't answer quick enough for my liking, so I decided that I did kind of like the more expensive one better, because my gut kind of told me so, and I felt like it was a bit more responsive and quick to take pictures, even though I felt like I was getting ripped off because I was basically paying an extra $40 for that damn color-select mode (seriously, that was the only selling point/differentiator he could give me between the 1300 series and the 1400 series.) (That, and it was thinner. Who the eff cares? They're both tiny cameras and I'm obviously not one to discriminate about thinness.)

It's a fucking 14 megapixel which is way more than I will probably ever need, because I'm not in the habit of blowing my pictures up to poster-size (although, I do have that design degree, so you NEVER KNOW), and I am smarter in the average consumer in that I know that more megapixels does not equal better, in fact, it just eats up memory space unless you do, in fact, need to blow up your pictures to unnatural sizes. I don't know who is perpetuating this myth but it's super annoying.

It also only has a 4x optical zoom, which made me a little sad, but I was actually pleasantly surprised by the quality of the digital zoom on it, and digital zooms are usually shit. So there's that.

And, of course, extra scene settings. Whoop-de-fucking-do.

Honestly, though, it just felt like a better camera.

And dammit, this is the last one I'm buying for a long time.

(Because the cause of death of both of my previous cameras? TOTALLY COVERED now.) (This one is also supposed to be pretty sturdy because it has a metal case, so there's that.)

Also turns out they were all out of the black one, so all they had was... hot pink.

And while I probably would have bought the black one, I was not put off by the hot pinkness of it. Rather, I was like, hell yes, I will buy the hot pink camera.

Anyway, after putting a medium-sized dent in my bank account, I sadly walked out of the store, bemoaning my poorness and resenting my new little camera. BUT! After playing around with it and taking it out on the town for my birthday shenanigans, I... I kind of love it. I kind of love it a lot. I'm really excited to take it out and shoot more pictures with it. And I haven't even read the manual yet. Who KNOWS what else it can do!?!

So, behold:

the Canon Powershot SD1400IS
(image from Amazon, because I can't very well take a picture of my camera WITH my camera)


Welcome to the family, O Little Pink One.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Seriously? Seriously.

Stupid as it may be, I'm a pretty big proponent of giving people second chances. I know, I know. For a self-proclaimed cold-hearted hard-ass, I'm pretty sentimental like that.

Maybe that, or I just get worn down easily.

After weeks and weeks of Bachelor #3 texting and whining at me like a little bitch, I finally relent and agree to see him again. Why, I don't know. I guess I didn't really feel like I had a good enough reason, though I think you're kind of a tool should have probably done it.

Whatever.

So I throw him a bone (heh) and consent to a second meeting on Sunday. Because, hey. It's the end of the weekend and whatever. Eventually through a string of text messages, we set some sort of tentative plan for 8pm which is later than I'd probably care to hang out but I'm not terribly concerned because it gives me plenty of time to do what I'd rather be doing, which is hanging out with my girls in Des Moines.

So anyway, I'm en route back home and I give him a call back and the conversation runs something along the lines of:


B3: So what were you doing in Des Moines?

Me: My friend was having a craft show and I came down for it and then we went out for dinner

B3: That's kind of gay.

Me: (brief stunned silence) Hey -

B3: (proceeds with giving me directions to his house)

Me: (somewhere in there makes some sort of self-deprecating crack)

B3: Where'd you go to school, Iowa State?

Me: Sure did.

B3: Ok well text me before you leave, I need to shower.

Me: I'm just leaving DSM, you've got time.

B3: You're not going to be here until like 9:00 then?

(it's 7:30, bt dubs)

Me: Uh, it takes like a half hour to get home. Talk to you later.

Hang up. Seethe. Refrain from texting because it's illegal plus it's dark now so extra unsafe.

Contemplate how many bad karma points it would get me to tell him I have food poisoning and can't come over.

Seriously, what the fuck.

So I get home (at 8, because I'm smart and know how long it takes) and I fire like 3 text messages at him being all pissy and he's like "Jesus Christ relax" and I'm like "No" and he's like "what is it with Iowa people not liking that word" and I'm thinking, "we're not homophobic assholes?" then he calls and apologizes rather sincerely for being a fucktard (I'm paraphrasing) and begs me to still come over.

I love it when they beg.

I get done being huffy and issue a final disclaimer that he's not getting any but apparently he still wants to hang out so I'm like fine, whatever, let's just do this and get it over with and see what happens. Not so much a good sign, really. (see: Bachelor #1.)

So I get there and he answers the door without a shirt ("sorry, I'm doing laundry") to which I refrain from rolling my eyes, he does actually appear to be doing laundry, he puts a shirt on, we watch a movie, ok, to be fair, we start to watch a movie, something where about twenty minutes in Casey Affleck beats the fuck out of Jessica Alba and I'm like, uh, no, we're not watching this anymore, so then we watch The Burbs which I've never actually seen, and he's extremely well behaved and doesn't even attempt to touch me for about 4/5ths of the movie and then he's all "I want to make out now" and I'm like sigh okay fine, and so we make out for a little bit and I'm half watching the last bit of the movie and there is even less chemistry than the first time, in my opinion, and I'm plotting my escape because even though I was 95% sure last time I saw him that I wasn't interested, that last 5% really became obvious this time, and, well. Yeah. It's kind of an awkward situation to just get up and leave in the middle of.

On the bright side, despite how much weight I have on me these days, and how much of a shallow douche I'm sure he is, I've apparently still got it, and I am apparently still hot.

So there's that.

After a few more minutes of faking interest in making out, I'm all "I need to go home" and he starts being a whiny bitch and he calls me a pain in the ass but I can tell he loves it, so, score points for me, and I'm like, whatever, I have to work tomorrow, and he pouts and I am indifferent and he promises to shave next time because I bitched about it and I'm all mentally there is no next time, bitch and then I peace out and leave him to whatever nasty things he chooses to do with the memory of my hotness.

So, lesson learned, I guess, to follow your instincts and Just Say No to Pity Makeout Sessions and that No Attention is better than Annoying Unwanted Attention Even Though It Maybe Makes You Feel Good About Yourself A Little Bit and, yeah.

Then I went home and pulled the probably-really-old bottle of vodka out of my crisper drawer in my fridge (what? where do you keep YOURS?) and took a shot and then took a shower to wash the smell of boy off of me and also because I forgot how to do my hair when it's short so I kind of wanted to straighten it for work tomorrow but naturally I am sitting here typing this instead, but, well, I've got a towel on it right now so CLEARLY I am being productive because it's drying first. Obviously.

I think I might be hanging out with Bachelor #6 again this week though. He was the shy, nice one who bought me dinner last week. I'm actually looking forward to seeing him again, which I think is probably a good sign.

My friend Shelly kind of rolled her eyes at me today and was all, "but dating is fun!" and I'm like, um, not if you're me, I guess, which makes me think I'm doing it wrong. I have more thoughts on this but they'll have to wait until next time.

Also, coming soon: birthday pics. They involve crash helmets. Totally as awesome as it sounds.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Snippy Snip Snip.

I have SO MANY random things to entertain you with and yet nary the attention span to do so, but I best start somewhere, so.

I chopped off my hair.

I scheduled an appointment for the day after my birthday because my stylist always straightens it and makes it look nice, and you can bet your ass there were going to be pictures taken that night, so it made great sense to be strategic with it.

I told her to take it to my collarbone. I don't know why. It seemed like a good idea. NEVER MIND that my hair is this massive security blanket to me and it makes me feel better about the fact that I'm fat right now because I can hide behind my hair.

She chopped about 7 inches off the back and about 4 in the front. I don't know why the back was so much longer, it just was.

Anyway, behold:

BEFORE:


AFTER:



I feel kind of naked. Except I still HAVE hair so I guess not really naked so much as Scantily Clad.

Or something.

More exciting posts coming, promise.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

twentysix.

I seem to have met a lot of people lately that have been freaking out about their 25th birthdays. I kind of want to shake them a little bit.

25 is not only NOT old, but for me, it was one of the best years, I think. It's a great age. You're old enough to know better but young enough to still be able to make legitimate fuck-ups. You're old enough to be taken seriously but young enough to still have fun and maybe occasionally be irresponsible.

Also, your car insurance goes down and you can rent cars now or something.

Today, I bid farewell to 25, and I open the door to 26.

I've made my peace with this; I've had a few irrational freakouts of my own (omg! I'm on the downhill slope to 30!). I've also had some existential ponderings (am I now considered to be in my "late twenties"? Or can I still say "mid-twenties"? Because, theoretically, 20-23 would be Early Twenties, 24-26 would be Mid Twenties, and 27-29 would be Late Twenties - right? Mathematically speaking?).

I'm not going to focus on all the things I haven't done or haven't accomplished yet, because, shit, I'm only twenty-six.

It's only going to get better from here. I've decided.

Also, I thought it would be fun to revisit The Birthdays Of My Twenties, because I like visual aids. And pictures. Always, with the pictures.

20

I... have no pictures from this birthday?
I'm pretty sure it happened, though.
Is it possible to completely forget a completely-sober birthday?
Memory-making FAIL.


21

I did not go out and get smashed on my 21st birthday.
I know, you're disappointed in me.
Most of my friends were still minors.
I still had fun.



22

We spent a lot of time at a restaurant on this one.
We dressed Calee up in hideous outfits at Forever 21 to pass the time.
Of course, that bitch is skinny and still made them look good.
I ended up with a Cheesecake Factory table-timer in my cleavage.
One of my friends decided to come even though she was supposed to have a first date.
Which she ended up being really late for.
They are now engaged anyway.
(Congrats, Emily!)



23

Homemade pizzas + cake + wine = fabulous
We did go out, too.
Staying in was actually more fun.
This is when I realized I was getting old.


24


The birthday that only 3 people came too.
Screw you, everyone else.
"Nobody likes you when you're 23 24..." - Blink 182 (paraphrased)
This was the year that I had short, dark hair.
This is also the year we introduced the Traveling Birthday Tiara.
I think it only lasted through one year and three birthdays.
Still. We tried.


25

The birthday so nice I celebrated twice.
On a Tuesday and a Wednesday, no less.
Tuesday = cake, friends, wine
Like, amazing cake. Molly cake.
Wednesday = dollar pints. more friends.
And beer. That was a dollar.
I can't believe this was already a year ago.

There is actually a second apple stuffed in Steph's jacket.
Which Calee is grabbing.
If you're wondering.




26

TBD!


Pictures for 26 forthcoming. I'm not celebrating 'til tomorrow. Because it's a Thursday. The extent of my plans for tonight is to get my free ice cream from Coldstone. Who knows, though. Anything could happen.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

swear words & sadness.

We all know how much I love my camera, right?

Well, okay, maybe not this particular camera, it was merely all right, but still, it did its job like the trusty little sidekick it was supposed to be, and all was well. It took pictures. That's all I needed.

This camera, we'll call it the Nikon Coolpix S570, because I don't name my cameras, was a replacement for my old Olympus camera, whose style number I don't remember because I had it for a really long time and stopped looking at it. That camera lasted me well over two years. I always threw it in my purse or my pocket, usually my purse, where it hung out at the bottom, mashed under everything else, and I abused the shit out of that camera. I liked it because it was good at low-light pictures... I could turn the flash off, and what I would see in reality is what I would get on my screen.

This Nikon didn't share that trait. It took better With Flash pictures than the Olympus (which would drown out anything in the background, which was annoying), but forget about low-light shots or concert photos. Wasn't gonna happen.

But it was a nice little 8mpx camera with a 5x optical zoom that I purchased with my tax refund after discovering that the Olympus wasn't a good sport about having a Sex on the Beach dumped all over it. RIP, little guy.

HOWEVER.

This little bitch turned on me.

Last week I noticed that the zoom dial thinger was sticking, which means I couldn't zoom in... unless I wanted to zoom ALL the way in, because that was the only other option. I even went and bought a little bitty can of WD40 tonight at Target to try to fix the problem before all the events of the weekend.

Ironic, in a way.

Because I pulled the camera out of my purse to repair it, and.

AND.

That little fucker is borked.

The screen looks essentially like it was smashed from the inside. There are some unhappy looking lines and a glaring white screen of doom.

Something which, having sold cameras and extended warranties in the past, and making sure customers were aware that the warranties only covered manufacturer defects, not physical abuse, tells me that my warranty was NOT going to cover it.

Nonetheless, I called the number to give it a shot. I would bet money they will just send it right back to me and tell me it was my fault, which maybe it was.

I honestly don't know what I might have done to it. My purse is really flimsy, so it could have just gotten smashed against something, I don't know. I know I didn't break it when I fell on said purse when I, um, maimed my elbow, because I checked then, and I've used it since. (Although, can we be honest? My first instinct was to make sure my blackberry was okay. Also it might not have even BEEN in the purse at the time). It was even in a case! and it's rarely in a case!

I dunno, it's probably my fault. STILL. That bitch should have lasted more than eight months. I abuse all my cameras equally and this one totally did NOT stand up to the test of time.

SOOOOOO it looks like I will be spending some time in a store tomorrow looking for a camera, hopefully one that takes all around good pictures, has a really quick shutter speed (the Nikon was a bit lacking on this too, even though it was one of my criteria when I bought the damn thing and seemed to be ok in the store), and, well, won't break. Do they make smashproof cameras? (There was an Olympus once upon a time, when I worked at Target, that was waterproof, freezeproof, drop-proof, and whatever other proofing they could do, and it was bright aqua blue. It was also $300.)

It's just really, really inconvenient because, hi, I'm poor. And it's not like I can just GO WITHOUT because I am a photoholic.* I HAVE TO FEED MY ADDICTIONS.

*yes, that's totally a thing. Even though I just made it up. I think.


Here's where I would insert a picture of what my jacked up screen looks like.
Except I can't.
Because I don't have a camera now.
and my blackberry isn't cutting it.



Anyone else notice how my cameras always conveniently break right around when I know I'm going to be wanting to take pictures?

Yeah.

On the bright side, it always seems to happen when I come into (some) money. For example: tax refund. Birthday cards. Although, let's be honest, the tax refund was slightly more profitable than the birthday cards - still, it helps a lot. The fact that I did the math and there are three pay checks in October helps a lot too.

Too bad I was going to put said birthday money towards a netbook.

Which at this rate, I will probably never get.

I hate money.

I kind of hate Nikon a little bit too.

I hate hard surfaces that might be camera smashy.

Blargh.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Fiscal Responsibility.

I learned something last night, guys. Maybe it's just my impending old age, and heightened sense of financial prowess, but:

You can get a 1.5 quart carton of ice cream for the exact same price as a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

I'm not good at conversions, but that's at least twice as much.

I mean, it's obviously not the same caliber of ice cream, but it's more.

Next up, I shall figure out my 401(k) plan.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Pressing the Pause Button

I finally let something give.

I'm taking the rest of the month off from TKD.

It's only ten more days, but I am allowing myself those ten days, completely guilt-free.

I haven't been in class all month. I know this because I spent the August-September changeover in the ER getting my elbow stitched up. Ten days later, I got the stitches out. A few days after that, I was ready to go back to class... and then I got insanely busy at work.

And now it's this week, and I just... I don't know. First and foremost, I can't justify paying for a month of classes when there are really only a handful of them left... and of that handful, I've got other obligations, like work. So I could maybe have gone today, and Wednesday of this week... not enough.

And my motivation and energy are shot to hell and back. I don't know if this is normal, I've been doing this for about two years now, and I'm just dragging. I am SO CLOSE to my goal, I can test for my black belt in November (or, on the flip side, I can't test until November)... but I can't make myself get excited right now. Even if I'm getting a bit restless, I still don't have enough fire to get myself to go.

And something, somewhere, had to give. And this is what's already been giving, so I'm officially taking it off for the next ten days to finish recovering, to refresh, refocus, and other words that start with re.

At first I was was relieved... but now I feel guilty again, but I can't do it all right now, and so this will be my small sacrifice to my sanity.

It's a small weight being lifted, to be sure, but it's a weight nonetheless.

I'm determined to enjoy this week.

Mostly Friday.

I took the entire day off. I'm getting my hair cut FINALLY (and, no, I'm not doing anything drastic, I just haven't had it cut in months and months so it needs a good ol' trim, and I'll let the stylist straighten it so it looks good all day), and then I get to go do more wedding dress shopping with my friend Steph which should be fun, because it was fun the first time and we didn't even find The Dress that time, not that we necessarily will this time, but there's always that possibility, and I'm sorry, but watching a bride-to-be find her dress? It's one of those Moments. It just makes your heart happy.

After that, who knows. Some down time, possibly. Then it's my birthday shindiggery at my favorite Chinese-Pizza restaurant (yes, that's a thing, and no, it's not gross - it's AMAZING) and then martinis at my favorite bar and then who knows? Maybe I'll get drunk enough and demand we go find karaoke. Why not, right?

Saturday, I might get some tailgating in since I am not scheduled to work. If not? I'll just relax because I need it.

So, see? I'll be okay. I just needed to take a break from something. It just happened to be the thing I was already sort of taking a break from anyway.

The difference is? I am giving myself permission to (temporarily) let go.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Here We Go Again

I am going to be perfectly honest. When I woke up this morning and gazed out my window and saw that it was drizzly and probably cold again today, I wanted nothing more than to stay in my nice, cozy bed and not haul myself down to Des Moines to meet Bachelor #7. I wonder if it would have made a difference if it was nice out; I suspect maybe it wouldn't have. I was kind of burnt out on awkwardness and meeting new guys for the weekend. I spend a great deal of my waking hours attempting to avoid awkward situations... and yet, that's all I seem to find myself in these days.

Next time I decide to be "efficient" with my time in such a manner, someone slap me and remind me how tiring it is.

That said, I crawled out of bed and searched my closet for something suitably warm but still cute, and went about the process of making myself look presentable. The fact that it was wet and rainy meant that there was little to no point of doing much with my hair because moisture + my hair = not best friends. I pulled it out of my face, at least, and put myself together at what I considered to be an acceptable level of cuteness, even if I obviously wasn't trying as hard as I was when the weekend started. Whatever, it was rainy.

I drove myself down to the city after stopping to put air in my tires and gas in my car and otherwise taking my sweet time so as not to be early. I found that I was neither nervous nor excited nor dreading the upcoming afternoon; I was completely and totally indifferent. Again: overloaded.

Anyway. I get there with my usual impeccable timing and end up running into him in the parking lot and thus began an afternoon of semi-awkward wandering around at was a poorly-attended art market. (Hey, did I mention it was rainy? Cause it totally was.)

I dunno. He was a nice guy, he was cute, I just wasn't blown away or anything. Maybe I was too busy being cold. I don't know. It was a nice afternoon, though. We wandered around and chatted. He insisted upon having an umbrella, which everyone there was carrying around umbrellas, and I personally tend to scoff at umbrellas when it's merely drizzling, but it was kind of thoughtful, I guess. Either that or a really clever ploy to keep me close to him, I don't know.

I feel like it was sort of obvious that there was a definite personality difference. He was very clean-cut, with his button up shirt and khaki pants and umbrella-usage. Meanwhile I was content to be rained on, with my dark jeans and plain black t-shirt and teal fleece zip-up, with my crazy curly hair pulled out of my face. The artist and the accountant.

Even so, we hit it off pretty decently. After quite a bit of aimless wandering, we ducked into one of the coffee shops and hung out there for a while. All awkward silences were acknowledged and laughed off/at. More wandering, wherein he regaled me with the tales of the articles on the dating site with all the things you are supposed to be doing/not doing. I need to find these. They sound hilarious. Eventually wandered back to the parking lot and stood there kind of awkwardly and he joked that he couldn't remember what the Articles said to do, so we were all like, "hug it out! woo!" and I added another parking-lot hug to my list, and then I drove home and grabbed the first hoodie and pair of sweatpants I could find and snuggled under blankets because I was kind of cold at that point. Oh yeah I stopped at McDonald's when I got back into town too. That was a brilliant idea. It always is. No wonder I'm not getting any skinner.

Anyway. I really don't have a verdict for you... it was fun, I'd be okay with seeing him again, and although apparently you are supposed to avoid restaurants for dates because you're trapped with the awkwardness for the duration of the meal (according to aforementioned "articles"), I would almost disagree because at least then when you have awkward lulls you can always play with your food or become extremely occupied with eating it slowly. Or something. Event-type dates are good in theory but it just seemed like a whole new brand of awkward situation.

Anyway anyway. I'm taking the week off from Men and am going to focus on getting back into TKD now that my various ailments are healed, and of course celebrating my birthday with my girls. I'm perfectly content to fly solo, which I've started to realize more and more, and I'm not even sure what the whole point of this little experiment is, because I'm not sure I even want a guy right now. I'm quite happy with things the way they are.

And hey, if I want to snuggle, I've got a cat, who makes it very clear that she is the most neglected and attention-starved kitty to ever have lived. She's kind of high maintenance like that.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

[insert clever play on words using the title of the movie i'm about to tell you about]

I haven't really gone to many movies lately because the type of shit Hollywood craps out these days holds absolutely no interest for me, and one can only take so many predictable chick flicks without wanting to tear one's face off. So I've been kind of picking and choosing and thus far I've done a reasonable job of finding movies that I've enjoyed.

And because all I apparently do these days is work, date, and consume entertainment, I'm going to talk about the movie I just got home from.

Because it was hilarious.

And I enjoyed it.

And it's times like these I wish I was a cool blogger who got paid to do shit like this, but, alas. I'm not.

So, as I maybe mentioned the other day, my friend let me pick which movie to go see tonight and I picked this one because the trailer looked funny and lo! It was.

The basic gist is that the main character gets a reputation for being a slut by having fake-sex with a bunch of guys thanks to the rumor mill at her high school. There's also a parallel plotline using "The Scarlet Letter" hence the red A, obviously. I won't bore you with details because you can glean the plot from the trailer... and actually having now seen the movie and re-watching the trailer, the movie is actually better than the trailer implies. Go figure.

Instead, my random observations.

1. I love Emma Stone's hair color. I was thinking about going red(der) next time I color it, and that's the shade I want.

2. Emma Stone happens to be hilarious. The "Pocket Full of Sunshine" montage cracked my shit up. It's at the beginning. You'll know it when you see it.

3. There are a lot of kick-ass character actors in this movie. My favorite was Stanley Tucci. LOVE him. Except when he's playing creepy serial-killer types. I guess I only love him when he is in comedies. Also: I will probably always think of Lisa Kudrow as Phoebe so it's weird seeing her in other things. She still has certain Phoebeisms too which isn't helping her case. (Just as Matthew Perry continues to have certain Chandlerisms, God love him. Did he ever make it out of rehab? I miss him.) Patricia Clarkson? Surprisingly funny. I guess I've only seen her in serious roles.

4. I was pleasantly surprised to find that all the funny points in the movie were not contained in the trailer but were spread out over the entire film. Also, not all the best scenes were in the trailer, either.

5. John Hughes shout out and ode to 80's movies. Holla.

6. The dialogue was surprisingly snappy for a movie set in a high school. Quick wit and big words. Loves. (Side note: Anyone else miss Gilmore Girls? Sigh.)

7. The previews contained what look to be some actually worthwhile movies coming soon. Can't tell you what they are, at this point, but I remember being all "finally! shit I want to see!"

8. Except that weird Blair-Witch Facebook movie. I don't know what the fuck that was. I don't think the rest of our audience did either. It ended and there was an audible "what...?"

9. Whatever, I'm not Roger Ebert. This isn't a real movie review. It's funny. Go see it. End of blog post.

I wish I were this bad ass.



Oh hey, here. I found a NON OFFICIAL video I could embed. Score.




Honestly, movie studios. It's like you don't even want us to promote your films. I'm giving you free advertising. Why must you make things difficult for me?

Friday, September 17, 2010

STORYTIME!

So, how 'bout this weather? No, seriously, it's gorgeous. I love fall.

But that's not why we're here.

I seriously owe you some updates.

As may have been somewhat evident, I'm in varying stages of communication with another batch of dudes. Because I'm either extremely efficient or extremely emotionally retarded, I've decided to breeze through a bunch of them this weekend. Seriously. Three dates in four days.

You only wish you were as ambitious as me.

Also, I'm super disappointed that it did not work out to get myself to Chicago this weekend to meet up with Maria while she was (more or less) in the area, because my time off request got accidentally ignored. This will eventually need to happen. Because my life will be incomplete until we get to hang out.

So I made the best of the situation and decided to be productive with my time.

Let's rewind a little, though. Since it's been a while since I've checked in.

It was getting a little out of control, you guys. I had to MAKE A LIST. Because while I can keep them straight by username/photo/memorable bit of information, usually, when I get into the whole numbered-bachelor system, it all breaks down. Because it is just physically impossible to keep track of fifteen anonymously-numbered guys.

So, we're going to back up.... we'll keep Bachelors #1-3 because they were the "originals" and, well, I've now met them all, so they're sort of un-erasable. We'll keep Bachelor #4 since we took the step of becoming Facebook Friends. So I guess that means we keep #5 too...

Ok. How about this: any additional contact or step beyond the confines of the site itself, and they may merit themselves a number and a, um, spot in line?

Seriously. I don't know how this works.

Anyway.

Let's chat about Bachelor #6 and #7.

I'm only sort of sure about which one started emailing me first, but I know that I hadn't been, like, blown away by their profiles or anything. However, both of them used a subject line that was something other than "hey" and, lo! They can put sentences together! They can use proper punctuation and are sorta funny and they like my sense of humor and CAN KEEP UP WITH ME when I fire off responses (because how I email? is very similar to how I write on here). So then I feel sorta bad for writing both of them off initially because it turns out that there might be something there worth looking into further.

(This is why you can't have boring profiles, people. You get ignored by the obnoxious Type-A girls with really dry senses of humor.)

So, Bachelor #6, as he shall be assigned, is a grad student here in this ol' college town. He is apparently also busy and extremely understanding of busy schedules (I've started to use this as sort of a disclaimer, since, well. I don't see a current end in sight for the Crazy that is my schedule.) He didn't use any cheesy compliments about my eyes or such, instead he found the best way into my good graces, which was by complimenting my sense of humor. (I'm apparently vain about odd things. Tell me I'm pretty and I'll roll my eyes. Tell me I've got a way with words and I'll agree to go out with you.) Anyway, I was kind of waffling and finally he's all, how about next Thursday at 7 at (name of restaurant), and if we have to reschedule, we have to reschedule. Very politely assertive. I'm a fan. I'm NOT, however, a fan of said restaurant, which makes me about one of three people in this town who don't love it, but I didn't want to crap all over his plan-making skills, so I figured I'd give it another shot. Seriously. I find it to be overpriced, pretentious, and mediocre. Except the last time I was there. Then I had some sort of life-changing culinary experience. However, they change their menu up every couple months so Miracle Entree is gone and everything else seems unappealing to me. Yeah, whatever. I'm not even a picky eater, but I like to be able to pronounce all the words on the menu. I don't like it when food makes me feel stupid.

Bachelor #7 basically began communicating with me by telling me my profile was hilarious. At first I was like, "huh." Because I couldn't remember what I'd even put on there or if it was supposed to be funny, so I didn't know if I should be insulted, but then I remembered that, well, I'm me, and half the shit I say is twinged with my sense of humor, to the point where I might say something that I don't think twice about, but someone else finds hilarious. So, you know. I think it was a compliment. Anyway, we've been emailing (obviously) and he mentioned wanting to "move things offline" when my schedule calms down. So that pretty much leaves it wide open for me to decide when I feel like I want to meet up with him. Vital stats: an accountant, lives in DSM, moved here from somewhere else, I think possibly Missouri. (Look, I can't keep every detail straight, all right?)

So, that's what I've got for now, which actually seems fairly promising. Because while I'm not immediately smitten with either of them, they seem nice and, I hate to say "adequate" because it sounds pretty condescending, but I mean that in the nicest way possible - I have a really high bar for standards and merely having met that is kind of an achievement.

Meanwhile, I have no idea what to do about these other random dudes that I seem to forget to email back which is a clear sign that I'm not interested because they're not holding my attention, but I really don't want to be a bitch, but I have no real reason for not at least giving them sort of a chance, because not everyone can be eloquent in emails, although, do I even want them if they're not at least a little well-spoken? methinks, no.

Anywho. I'm trying to merge a half-written post from three days ago with current events as of right now... so if anything doesn't make sense to this point, that's why.

ANYWAY!

Thursday night (aka yestrday) I met Bachelor #6 at said pretentious restaurant. I think I got there right around the same time he did and we had a 25-minute wait so we kind of awkwardly hung out in their too-small waiting area making small talk, especially when the place suddenly flooded with older folks and the whole bell curve of the age demographics was skewed away from us. We finally got a table, I found something on the menu whose every ingredient was something I'd heard of and conversed pretty well for a first meeting. There were occasional awkward silences, but as my friend pointed out, first dates are kind of supposed to be awkward, so keeping that in mind, it wasn't bad. It wasn't, like, the painful sort of awkward. More of the I'm-going-to-keep-drinking-this-water-so-I-have-something-to-focus-on-until-someone-starts-talking-again awkward. But he was really nice and kind of adorable, and he picked up the check, although to be fair, the waitress just kind of handed it to him automatically, which, I was actually kind of offended by. I still offered to pay my half but he waved it off. We continued to loiter (can you really be loitering if you're at a table/booth and they keep bringing you water? It's like they're encouraging it...) and talk for a couple hours and then called it a night with an awkward hug in the parking lot and he apologized for not being very good at the whole dating thing which I shrugged off because, really, who is?

I can't say as though it was, like, OMG! or anything, but it was a pleasant evening, and there could be some potential, although right there at the end it became kind of evident that he was kind of shy and that I'd have to kind of take the lead on things, but whatever. I'd be willing to go out with him again and see how round 2 goes. And I have no problems with being pushy and forward, if need be. I know, you're shocked by this.

He did email me this afternoon and said he'd like to see me again, assuming he hadn't scared me off or anything. So that was nice. :)

Also, I looked really cute yesterday. I'd just like to throw that out there. I finally re-touched my roots on Wednesday, and while I generally try to avoid coloring my hair AND straightening it all in one night (I mean, hi. Let's try to minimize damage where possible), I did anyway because it's so long right now that that's the only way it looks good. And I was going to re-color on Tuesday after my girldate with my (local) friend Maria, but I went home and fell asleep. So that was kind of a fail on my part.

Then there's today.

I finally met Bachelor #1.

And it was about what I expected.

I hadn't had much communication with him for the last few weeks, other than scheduling and rescheduling meeting times with him. And I'd lost my enthusiasm long ago, back when Bachelor #2 completely captivated my attention before shitting all over my emotions for no good reason than apparently being a douchebag in disguise, but that's neither here nor there. BUT, I felt... I don't know, obligated, to meet him, especially after I'd been so flaky for so long.

I didn't put forth nearly the effort to my particular grooming for the day, but, well. If a dude can't handle what I look like on Friday evening after a long week of work, he has no business being in my life anyway. And I did look reasonably all right, it's not like I was wearing a possibly-dirty tshirt and ripped up jeans or anything.

I was getting ready to leave work to go home, nap, and then I was going to shower and put in some additional effort, maybe, but I didn't even make it to the door when I got re-routed to head out for drinks with some of my co-workers. If it's ok to wear to work, it's probably acceptable for a date, right?

Two-and-a-half beers later, I'm feeling pretty decent and also running a bit behind. I text him to tell him I'm going to be a few minutes late (which he later told me he expected to be a cancellation text, THAT is the kind of impression I apparently have left), and I head off to meet him, not particularly excited to leave my posse behind at the bar to go meet a complete stranger.

Because online dating is basically a bunch of blind dates that you inflict upon yourself.

Yeah.

So I breeze in, apologize for my lateness, and announce that I need to get some food because I haven't eaten all day, and he's like, cool whatever, as he drinks his cup of coffee that he didn't bother to wait for me to get there to order. Which, well. I'm not saying I would have waited either... but I was only 5-10 minutes late, and, I don't know, it seemed odd to me.

Anyway. It's awkward. The booth is really small and I'm chattering away trying to simultaneously fill the silence while feeding my face. He says he almost canceled on me because he was really tired. Part of me wishes he had. The other part of me reminds me that it's best just to get this over with.

And the spastic side of my personality is out, because I'm tipsy, and while most people find this entertaining, he just kind of sits there, and I feel like maybe he's judging me, but whatever, I'm so unconcerned at this point because I just want to eat my sandwich and go home. I'm tired of all the awkwardness.

The conversation felt rather one-sided, though he did chime in occasionally, and I'm trying to find relevant things to talk about, I mentioned the Iowa-ISU game from last weekend, and he's all, I don't like football really. I think it was quite commendable of me to not just sit and stare at him. I mean, I'm not the world's biggest sports fan, but I do enjoy college football, and I love football season and going to games when I have tickets and, of course, tailgating. I was surprised by how much of a negative this was in my book. I don't want some sports fanatic jock, sure, but... not at all? Really?

And not to compare guys, but. Bachelor #6 and Bachelor #1 are both grad students in some sort of chemistry-related field. Bachelor #6 is probably right around the same level of football fan that I am, it's fun but it's not everything, he's actually headed to Kansas City this weekend for the game, so it's not like, "oh he's a nerd of course he doesn't like sports" because they're both grad student chemistry nerds and so I guess there's that. Apples to oranges, maybe. Or maybe Fiji Apples to Granny Smith Apples. I don't know.

And while I do adore nerdy guys... I do need a guy that's still kind of, well, a guy. Hooray stereotypes, I guess.

At some point, he mentions that he might take off soon because, again, he's tired, and his friend might call, or something? I don't really know. I know I was relieved. Which is probably not a great sign.

So we left and he's all, if you want to hang out again give me a call, and I'm kind of like, you know, I'd rather get stitches in my elbow again, because that was actually more fun than this, but thanks. It came out as something more like, "maybe" but whatever. I'm too polite sometimes.

I mean, okay. I didn't go into this with the best of expectations, but... damn. I get being tired. Trust me, I spent most of my waking hours being tired. But... gah. I can't even put my finger on how mediocre it was. Uninteresting small talk, I learned absolutely nothing about him, I wasn't particularly attracted to him, and he did nothing to try to impress me. Not that I need to be impressed, but. Yeesh. A little effort isn't too much to ask for, is it?

Basically... the compatibility wasn't really there, I commend him for his patience, I guess, but part of that was just that he was busy too, so, I don't know. I mean, I hadn't even heard from him in weeks, whereas Bachelor #6 emailed me all the way up to the day of the date, even though plans had been made, and he didn't really need to "try" anymore. He may have been shy and awkward but the dude tried. And the effort was endearing.

Sigh.

Oh, yeah, and this "date" lasted all of an hour.

Color me unimpressed.

Anyway. I've got the day "off" tomorrow, I work at my second job, and then I'm going to a movie with one of my guy friends, which I'm actually looking forward to, because there is zero effort required and I don't have to primp and groom, or image-check myself, I can just... be me, I can even be cranky-me if I want.

Then on Sunday I have an afternoon date with Bachelor #7 (oh, did I not mention this? I fail at blogging right now), there is some sort of art thing going on in Des Moines. The dude did his research and found something cool to do, even though it sounds like he's been in the area all of a month, if that. I like a guy that can make definitive plans, because I suck at it. When someone asks me what I want to do and I say "I don't care" - I genuniely don't care. I'm generally up for anything and am content to let other people pick. I'll speak up if I have a preference.

So. That's where we are, right now.

Like I said. This shit's exhausting.

Throw in the fact that Bachelor #3 keeps sporadically texting me and then turns into kind of a whiny bitch when I have to blow him off cause it's, like, 10pm on a Wednesday or something and no, I'm not going to come over because I suspect you only want to get into my pants, but I don't know how to politely reject him since I did sort of agree to a second date, ages ago, that just hasn't ever happened. Ugh.

Have I mentioned that I'm really bad at rejection? I'm bad at taking it and I'm apparently bad at giving it. This is, um, problematic, to say the least.

Gah.

Whatever, I'm going to bed. I'll worry about it later. I don't need to decide anything tonight.

Because we play the game on my terms.

Or we don't play at all.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

i have hope / that inside is not a heart, but a kaleidoscope

I don't generally do reviews on here, but I seriously can't stop listening to this CD. So I must blog about it. Naturally.


I can't even tell you how much I love this CD. It's been a while since I've purchased a physical CD, rather than via iTunes or Amazon, but I'm glad that I snatched this off the shelf at Target last week.

Sara B. and I go way back... In 2007, when I was living alone in the suburbs of our great capital city, and all my friends were an hour-long drive away, I spent a lot of time in my kitchen baking and teaching myself how to cook. And drinking wine. Simultaneously. My soundtrack to this was Sara's first album, Little Voice. I still can't listen to that CD without being reminded of that little kitchen.

I had told my sister I wanted her new CD for my birthday, and figured I could wait. But I was in Target last week and was cruising by the new releases and I couldn't help myself. It was a Target exclusive with bonus tracks! That I had to fish out from the back of the stack! (Those things are limited in quantity, you know. Only the first batch generally has them. LIFE LESSONS learned from running the music/movie/book section back in my early post-college days). Plus I'd had an exhausting week AND I was in the middle of a texting drama between my mother and sister and dammit I decided I was going to treat myself. It was on sale, even.

I hadn't heard anything off it yet. I didn't even preview it. I figured I'd either love it or hate it. I'd even actively avoided listening to the first single because I didn't want to form any early opinions - that, and Sara Bareilles is one of those artists I listen to by the album, not by the song.

My first listen-through actually left me pretty indifferent. I didn't even like the "super smash hit" single (or however they advertise those these days.) But I played it again and the second time through was magical. I brought it along with me on my drive up to the family reunion and listened to it the whole way up and back and am completely enamored with it. (Ironically enough, that hit song that I deemed one of my least favorites... totally the first one to get stuck in my head afterwards. Go figure.)

There are a couple of songs that, while beautiful, I sometimes skip because they're slower and sadder - and maybe it's just because when I'm in my car and driving, I need more up-tempo music.

I loved how the intro song transitions into Track 2 (which I consider to be the first "actual" song). I love that the songs are completely different from the first album, but some of them have a familiar element or bit that reminds me of the first and somehow connects the two in my mind. I love the lyrics - they're not cheap and cliche; they vary from song to song on the spectrum from wistful to sassy, and I just mostly love the way the album makes me FEEL.

I've been getting impatient to find a new album that does this. I've been buying some here and there, but none of them have blown me away and had that... je ne sais quoi... that I was looking for.

Anyway. Basically this album is awesome and if you liked her first one, you will like this one. If you didn't like her first album, you might like this one anyway, because it's just different enough. And if you've never heard of her, you should probably remedy that.

And no, I don't have one to give away. Sorries.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Ahhhhhh!!!

Oh, my lovelies. I have so much to fill you in on. I don't even know where to start.

Firstly: OMG. I am ON FIRE at work right now. I got hit with a bunch of big projects at once and I've been staying later than usual (fifteen hours on Monday! woo!) and while you think I might be complaining about that, I have to confess, I am loving every single minute of it. I honestly wish I had more time in the day to get things done! I think I've finally, truly started to find my niche and it feels awesome to be able to be an important part of the account team and to be able to make things happen. I probably could have gleefully pulled an all-nighter on Monday but I had to drag myself away because, well, it was probably important to my well-being to take a shower and get some sleep. I'm not 22 anymore. ;)

Secondly: OMG. BOYS! I don't know where we left off in the saga, I think I started to write something and then my Internet froze up and I got crabby and stomped off and went to bed, so I'll have to find that, but to make what is undoubtedly a long story short, I have a date tomorrow, Friday, and Sunday.... with three different guys. (Plus a movie outing with a friend on Saturday, who is a boy, but it's not a date, at all, just an extra dosage of testosterone, but I totally get to pick the movie, so that's cool. I think he just wants to get out of the house so I could theoretically pick the cheesiest, girliest movie EVER and he'd be okay with it. Except I'd want to stab my eyeballs out with a fork. So probably not. I think possibly I'm going to go with "Easy A" - the preview looked hilarious when I saw it before "Scott Pilgrim vs The World"*)

*Scott Pilgrim = awesome. It's seriously this giant rollercoaster ride of WTF, but it's fucking awesome. It took me a while to get into it, because it was a little strange even for me, and I couldn't figure out what type of movie it was trying to be, but before long I got settled in and was quite giddy with adoration for its ever-increasing quirkiness. It's definitely not for everyone, but if you have a sense of humor similar to mine, you'll possibly find it to be kind of bad-ass.

Whoa, where was I?

Right.

Ok, so, honestly? It feels less like I'm "dating" so much as it is that I'm "being courted," so to speak.

I mean, okay. I'm just sitting here minding my own business and these guys messaged me, and are taking the time to get to know me, and are initiating plans, and it's all so very refreshing and, well. It's kind of fun.

The problem is, I'm afraid about what's going to happen if I end up liking more than one of these guys. It just seems like a tangled mess waiting to happen, but if things are meant to be a certain way, they'll work themselves out. First things first, to actually meet them...

Also, I just spilled water all over myself. The bright side to this is that it was because I bumped my glass of water and managed to catch it/redirect it into my lap rather than all over my laptop. Also, I'm wearing a bathrobe right now, so I'm totally absorbent.

Also-also, about six months or so ago, Target clearanced off and quit carrying my hair color. So I snatched up as many boxes as I could. I used the last one today. My choices from here are to: (a) pick a different color (b) scavenge the area for someone else who carries it. I've got a while yet, obviously. The color is just a bit brighter and slightly redder than my actual color, so it takes a really, really long time for my roots to be noticeable. Like they are now. Because I haven't done anything to my head in a month in a half.

I should probably consider a haircut, also.... maybe next week. A lot of things will have to wait until next week. This one's pretty damn full.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Maybe Next Year...

Yeah, so. We pretty much got annihilated yesterday. I mean, we did finally manage to score our first touchdown in four years* late in the game (against their, like, fourth string, but whatever) to prevent a total blowout, but listening to the game on the radio while I was working in the store on Saturday was almost physically painful.... I'm surprised I didn't undo all Dr. Selleck's work by putting a new crick in my neck from all the cringing I was doing. The first half was a total bloodbath. It was embarrassing.

*one year, we won entirely off of field goals. Not even kidding.

Then again, we're in the beginning stages of rebuilding our program (again) and Iowa's #9 in the country and probably has a good shot at making it a long way in the post-season festivities. So, you know. There's that.

But, like a good sport, I donned the black and gold today. My aunt (also a Cyclone fan) ambushed me with her camera immediately upon arrival, and confessed that she really, really wanted ISU to win if for no other reason than to get my dad in a State shirt. Her and I both. Haha.

It's all in good fun, though. I know a lot of people are major assholes about the rivalry (it's really and truly JUST A FOOTBALL GAME, people) but it's the people who can good-naturedly joke around about it, that make it fun.

I did feel much better when I got home and put my red shirt back on, though. ;)



The cleverness here is that I am truly "back in black" -
I was born & raised an Iowa fan.
Until about 7 years ago when I came to ISU for school.
I have not worn an Iowa shirt in public since then.



Me & my dad.
Enthusiasm abounds.



The rules didn't say I couldn't bring any ISU gear with me...