Thursday, March 24, 2011

I'm pretty sure I'm missing Algebra class right now.

In one week, I will be twenty-five years old.

what the fetch?

I don't know what happened.

I think I fell and hit my head in high school and woke up here in this weird "13 going on 30" alternate universe, because I don't remember getting old.

My teenage brain is not equipped for this twenty-five year old life.

I spend hours playing bejeweled and angry birds on my cell phone instead of doing laundry.
And then act shocked when I can't find anything to wear, and my room is covered in clothing.

I was supposed to call my insurance company during lunch the other day, but spent the entire hour
watching baby pygmy goats on youtube (thanks, Elly) and listening to Garfunkel & Oats and Rocky & Balls.

And for the love of Pete, don't ask me to cook a meal. Anything with more than two steps
(unwrap put in microwave) is a recipe for disaster, and will only end in tears and broken appliances.

My husband has a panic attack anytime I look at the KitchenAid mixer.
I'm pretty sure he's afraid it will fall apart if I lay a finger on it.

I have the eating habits of a 12 year old.

If it wasn't for my husband, I don't think I would even see a vegetable, let alone eat one.

Despite my child-like tendencies, I guess I have grown up.

Because, I'm pretty sure my sixteen-year-old self would be scared sh!t-less if she lived in Alaska.

In fact, you couldn't have paid sixteen-year-old me to get on an airplane.
Not even backstage passes to Spice Girls or Hanson would get me on one of those winged death traps.

Now I have to get on a plane anytime I want to see civilization. Like Starbucks or Old Navy.

Between the dead animals, whales, and lack of Seven-Eleven,
sixteen-year-old me would be terrified.

Friday, March 18, 2011

it's freezing balls in my office.

that title alone may get me a scolding from my mother about being unlady-like.


*quirks eyebrow* ...that ship has sailed long ago.



Every morning, I wake up in my snuggly warm bed and dread hitting the snooze button for fear that my arm will  freeze off Teminator-style if it leaves the safety of my comforter.

I practically drag my bedding into the bathroom with me.

Heaven forbid I drop the blanket in toilet water.

I can't deal with that sort of drama in the morning.

This entire morning routine is why I shower at night.

If I showered in the A.M. I would never ever get out.

(atleast until the hot water runs out)

It's just like being in bed...except I'm standing and naked and wet.

So not at all like being in bed...I hope. Just go with it.

Once I manage to wriggle out of my blanket burrito, I get dressed for work.

I try so hard to be professional.

(okay not too hard, I don't want to hurt myself.)

But wearing cute dresses and even dress pants is such a pain here.

The other day I wore two pairs of tights to work...TWO.

I mean, it takes me 3 minutes to drive to work, but I'm shivering the whole way.
I look forward to Friday all week long not because it's the end of the week, but because I can wear jeans.

I know what you are saying, "But why does it matter when you are inside the office all day?"

Well, because my office is freezing balls.

Just my office. I swear it's the only office in the entire building without heat.

My space heater and I are BFFs.

Seriously, I'm *this* close to bringing a snuggie to work.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

the woes of online shopping

Sometimes things just don't work out.

and by "work out" I mean don't fit over my apparently enormous calves.

yep, you guessed it, I bought the boots, but the boots gave me the finger.



pirate hooker? not a good look, my friends.

Unfolded I looked like a fat hooker,

and folded down I looked like a fat pirate.

neither of which were looks I was going for.

If they had been heels I think I could have gotten away with them, but since they fit so snugly I couldn't pull them up enough, which made them bunch up in the most unflattering way around my ankles.

Yuck.

I decided to show them to Dan, while he was playing video games *facepalm*

this is how it went down...

me: dude, these are terrible, I look like a pirate hooker.

Dan: *eyes pealed on the TV* so you're saying you don't like them?

me: i'm saying they look terrible. look!

*folds them up and down*

Dan: hey, could you do that again?

*catch him checking out my cleavage*

me: you are terrible, I'm sending them back.





It's always a gamble not being able to try things on.

Like the green plaid shirt dress I thought would be SO cute from Old Navy.

No, it's the fugliest dress I've ever owned.

And will remain owning, because I was too lazy to send it back.

You win this time, Old Navy.

---

The real question is, should I still go for the Steve Madden boots?

What if they are amazing and I end up missing out on some kickass boots?

(This is my mind, it's scary in there.)


....decisions, decisions.

Monday, March 14, 2011

just because you shoot it doesn't mean you need to stuff it.

When I was growing up in the lush greenery of Washington, my parents would take my brothers and I to the mountains, to enjoy nature and eat at a lodge nestled between the tall evergreen trees near the river.

I remember looking up at the forest trees that reached up toward the sky.

They used to scare me if I thought about it too long.

We would be giddy if we saw a squirrel or a deer.

My younger brother would run around catching anything creepy and crawly.

We loved the mountains but never felt the need to go camping or hunting. so, it shouldn't really be a surprise that animals that have been killed and then stuffed, scare me to death.

There was a big stuffed Elk in the lodge we used to visit.

Standing right next to the front door.

You would walk in and BAM there's a giant dead animal looking right at you.

My parents have a picture of us in front of the dead creature.

oh the pink culottes...*facepalm*


I'm pretty sure I was on the verge of tears, because who wants to be forced by their parents (who are supposed to love you) to stand next to a corpse that may or may not come back from the dead and eat your brains.

Dude it's about to bite my little brother's head off!

Now I live in a state, where having animal corpses as decor, is not only common place, but it's encouraged.

Slowly, I have learned to adapt to my surrounding.

Otherwise, I would never go anywhere, ever.

And I'm not cut out for the crazy cat lady life.

I am becoming more comfortable in homes with hunting trophies, bear skin rugs,

restaurants with dead bears in the middle of the room,
(okay that one is pushing it, who wants to see that while they eat?)

and airport corridors with every arctic animal welcoming you from behind plate glass, letting you know that you have undoubtedly landed in Alaska.


The same cannot be said for my fear of whales. *shudder*

Saturday, March 5, 2011

with what money?

I love it when my husband asks, "With what money?"  whenever I tell him I want to buy something.
(that's a lie. I absolutely loath it.)

Well, I was thinking about using the money I make selling harvested organs in dark alleys.

Or, I could use the money I get from that time-suck I call a job.

You know the place I go every morning, that turns me into a brain eating zombie by 5 o'clock.

Granted, this aversion to spending pertains to things like clothes, shoes, asian babies, and hair products.

Not food. I can pretty much buy all the food that I want. He doesn't starve me or anything.
(but maybe he should.)

The other day I tried explaining the importance of my buying new boots.

You see, my Target special, knee high black boots are broken.

I'm pretty sure one of the many grated metal stairs around town assaulted my left heel and tore that little rubber end right off.

Truly, I am devastated. And who knows how long it's been missing.

For the past 2 weeks I've been doing my most favorite thing in the world...online shopping.

And now, I am convinced I need TWO new pairs of boots.

Because, I cannot live another day without a a black pair and brown pair.

It's a travesty that I haven't owned a pair of brown boots in 5 years.

That is 5 years too long, people.

So, I've figured out a way to get exactly what I want.

Obviously, I need a pair to replace my old broken ones, so I found these...
Chinese Laundry

Which he cannot deny me, because they are a necessity of life.

And these...
steve madden
...these babies are for my birthday.

You see what I did there? Yea. I'm pretty smooth like that.

Bonus, everything is on sale because it's the end of the season in the fashion world.

Of course, we still have winter for another 4 months.

Go me!