It's Friday, I'm In Love

well, I'm not in love this week, per se, but I have like 10 million mini-crushes, of which I will share a handful with you.

Blasting my ear drums:

D.A.N.C.E. - Justice: A few weeks ago, I very inaccurately predicted I would become less than enamored with this song almost instantly. I listen to it every morning, rocking out to the sights and sounds of OKC, cruising at a whopping 25mph for an hour. I dance in the car (well as much as one can dance wearing a seatbelt, which isn't unlike the way I dance when not wearing a seatbelt) like no one's watching™. An unstoppable smile spreads across my face like the first time I heard Motown Philly back in sixth grade. It's A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

Cinema enema:

Hot Fuzz - It's even better the second time. Rent it.

The Darjeeling Limited:

What are your favorite movies, Blythe? Well, aside from Breakfast at Tiffany's...

Wait, that's so clichéd, that's really your favorite movie?

Uh, hello, she's dressed in Givenchy for the entire movie? Anyway, my others are Bottle Rocket (my next pet will be named Dignan), The Royal Tenenbaums and Rushmore. I love The Life Aquatic, but it's not at the top of the list. But this might be someday:

On the small screen:

It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia - just watch it. Hi-larious. And, I'm in love with Charlie.

My Boys - I've been told it's for chicks. Turns out I'm a chick, so I get to watch it. But you should too.

On my feet:

Chacos. After nine hours of heels and office bullshit (although, yesterday, I wore a tiara for the better part of the day that I found secreted in a filing cabinet, but no one got my meta-ironical point including myself), there's nothing I love more than coming home, sliding into my little shoes made of heaven's pillows, cracking open a Miller Lite and internetting me some porn (this might be the only true thing on this entire blog). OMG - so comfortable. Also, they make me feel all outdoorsy and shit when really the most outdoorsy thing I do these days is take the bags of wine and beer bottles to the curb.

In my heart:

Any girl worth her weight in salads with no dressing, well, maybe fat free Italian on the side - on the side! knows that Urban Outfitters is the poor man's Anthropologie. I can't afford either, which is why literally every stitch of clothing I own comes from Hookers R Us. But a girl can dream, right? This little guys all sold out at the Hipster Factory, but I still covet it. Would I wear it? Certainly not.

Speaking of clothing, since when did maternity stuff become the new trend? And who's loving it? Me! I always might be a little bit pregnant, so this whole new look is awesome. I've decided to take it to the x-treme and drink all the beer I want (ok, was going to anyway) because I can just hide the ol' spare tire under something like this:

So, I've decided to take full advantage of the ambiguity of this contentious trend. Maybe people offer up their seat at the bar because I'm looking a little tired. Ok. Maybe I get a gift or two. Ok. You can totally return a Diaper Genie to Bed Bath and Beyond for a blender.

Rolling around in my brain:

I had a make out dream with Michael Cera last night. For reals. What? He's like 18. My inappropriate crush habit is getting out of control.