Favorite New Blog Alert

this one:  Fabulous On A Budget.  It totally rocks.  Happy reading!

Currently Coveting

That's actually a bookmark category I have.  And I pretty much covet everything.  All the time.  Let's see what's on the list today...

Fruit Embroidered Pillows at Overstock - I need all four.

Glacier National Park Blanket at Pendleton -  who doesn't need this?

Weck Glass Jars at Canoe - I somehow came into possession of some old school glass Pyrex pre-plasticware food storage containers and I love them.  These are perfect too.  There's something about storing your food in glass over plastic.



Corona Sofa at Macy's - Shockingly well priced.  I'm totally over our hand me down blue sectional, but too bad so sad for me.

Escape 1-W at Giant - Because I still don't have a bike.  Still.

Savvy at Bakers - In grey.  I'm having a grey thing.  I like these 'cause they're wedges, which means I am less likely to fall over.


Yes, this list is devoid of baby crap. That list is too big for one blog. I need/want it all! All of it! Ever!

Week 28 Update

28 weeks down, which means only 12 weeks to go.  Allegedly.  And I need every second.  I've given myself till after January 1 to get my ass in gear.  There are baby rooms to decorate (e.g. a trip to Ikea since that's all I can afford), birthing preparation classes to attend, registries to finally complete, a shower to not ruin, pediatrician to select, birth plan to write, childcare to secure, hospital bag to pack, name to choose... oh my freaking God.  So. Much. So. Little. Time.

In the meantime, babble.com says the baby's the size of an eggplant this week.  This is perplexing, because, as you see, eggplants come in many, many sizes.  All I know is that at seven months (maybe?  still confused) I'm definitely crossing from the maybe she's just fat to 95% sure she's knocked up, although, I'm still only rocking a couple pair of maternity skinny jeans with extra elastic in the waist - no panel action yet.  The dreaded maternity pants with those lovely panels are probably right around the corner, though, but mostly because I've been gorging on holiday goodness for days now.  Awesome!

X-mas Fail

No one got me one thing I asked for. Seriously, each request was TOTALLY reasonable. Kidding. This dude is totally effed. 

(click to enlarge)

On the first day of Zebmas his people gave to him

one adorable stuffed holiday dinner! 

We decided to give lil Z a piece of his turkey plate each day until Christmas, but we didn't really count, so... we'll give him the plate Christmas Day.  In the meantime, he's been obsessed with the roll.  He just hangs out with it in his mouth, occasionally giving it a squeak.

In a related story, Z-pain's b-day was probably a couple of weeks ago if when we got him (February 2, 2010) he was around nine weeks or so.  To celebrate, I'm going to bake him some puppy pumpkin biscotti now that holiday break has officially commenced (12 day weekend ahoy!).  Well, it commenced when I peaced out of work at about one this afternoon because we FINALLY finished the hellacious end of year payrolls, but I think it starts now since I just roused from my Snuggie™ incuded nap. 

The point is, happy birthday and Merry Christmas Zeb!  You're my favorite.  (For now.)

Week 27 Update

I'm thoroughly confused about what starting week 27 means.  Is the end of month six?  Am I already in month 7?  I've never been good at the math (except when I use it for my job, of course *wink*), but my doctor says one thing, the sonogram people say another, and then websites and books yet another.  So, I could be anywhere from five to eight months knocked up at any given time.  All I know is my due date is somewhere between March 21 and March 24.  Which probably actually means May 3.  Whatevs.  I'm certainly is no hurry, yet. 

However, recent developments that indicate I am in fact getting there include, but are not limited to: lower back pain that's actually more like in my butt ( I guess, just lower, lower spine), but only when I "exercise" (which means me hoofing it around the track at the Y with my mom trotting behind for 45 minutes a few times a week, not hardly enough to offset the pre-holiday cookie and fudge damage I'm doing), boob explosion - just when I think they can't get any bigger, bump explosion which has led me to actually pull on a pair of maternity jeggings (ahhhhh - sigh of comfort!) since my attempt at using the belly band thingy made me feel like my pants were a mere seconds away from dropping in public and I'm already paranoid enough, and I cried for no reason (not really, there was a reason, it's just hazy and I've essentially already forgotten it) for about three hours Saturday night. 

In a related story, K put together the crib his mother graciously purchased for us and I received the dinos from Anthro.  AND THAT'S ALL WE'VE GOT!  It's kind of like we think in addition to me giving birth to a human, I will also pop out a pack 'n' play, breast pump, boppy, bumbo, blankets, burps rags, diapers, clothing, baby tub, swing, bouncy chair, wipes, changing pad, changing table, bottles, rocker/glider, college tuition and all of the other million things we should, but don't have.  Oops.

Seriously?

Are you seeing this?  62 on Christmas Eve?  Let me remind you of last Christmas.  It was a snowy shitshow, but kind of cozy and exciting.  This year, it's practically going to be tropical out.  Weird.  I'm having a hard enough time getting into the spirit of things, but dang!  This really makes it hard.  But also, I think the less layers I can wear the better.  The bump is on the move and I'm starting to look a lot like Mimoo.

I can call her that because we've been friends since hers was the first CD I ever got.  Yup, I'm old.

BREAKING NEWS

Scarjo and RyReyn are no more. Finito. Gone the way of Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens. So, you know what that means. One or both of them are mine! I'm not particular. And yeah, I got a babydaddy, but in the words of Beyonce, "if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it."

Week 26 Update

Same as week 25.  Except fatter.  Notice I did not say babier.  But fatter.  Because I am eating for 13 at any given time.  This happens every winter.  It's like the minute it drops below 50, I start eating for a small army of very large and very hungry people.  So, now it's the perfect storm of bambino, holiday gluttony and my evolutionary need to pack on the poundage in case of a winter famine.  Awesome. 

But, you know what makes everything better?  Even my fat ass, Heidi Montag sized jugs, jiggly belly etc.

The saddest thing in the whole world has happened.

UPDATE: Obviously, I've overcome this very brief problem.  I just eat like a horse and then feel sick. 

I am unable to eat like I used to.  I'm not a doctor, but I'm guessing that the kiddo and his accommodations are taking up enough space now to squash parts of my internal organs in a new way.  This includes my stomach, which means I cannot stuff it full with delicious foodstuffs as I am accustomed.  Now, mind you, I have been somewhat careful to watch what I eat for the last year or so resulting in about a stone and a half (I prefer to think of lbs this way, much nicer than their American equivalent) weight loss, so I don't go totally overboard, but I do like to hunker down and enjoy a honking helping of scrumptiousness sometimes.  But, no more.  Now, I'm going to have to consume sensibly, eating small meals 100 times a day.  BLAST!  But it'll totally be worth it, right?  RIGHT?

In a related story, because I turned into a beached whale in the booth at Charleston's during my attempt at dinner (baked potato and soup, you'd think I could handle that), I made K cut our date night short and take me home so I could slide into my lounge pants and beach on the couch.  We hooked our huge ass (42" is huge to us, normal to others) to Netflix and are basking in the wonder that is Air Guitar Nation.  Recommended if you're in the mood for a documentary, but can't quite handle child prostitution or the deterioration of the US economy or sad state of food in America

Dear No-We-Don't-Have-A-Name-For-You-Yet Baby,

I might have bought you a little something today. Like your first stuffed toys. Dinosaurs to be exact. Terrance Triceratops and Talia T-Rex. Your dad loves dinos (and all things space, but I couldn't find any space dinosaurs on sale), so I thought you two might enjoy these together. Merry pre-birth Christmas!


*Yes, these are from Anthropologie. Yes, I have a problem. Step 1, complete!

Oh hell yeah

Today I popped into Daisy Exchange, where I occasionally force young, hip women to sift through my cast offs when my closet overfloweth. Most of the time, I come away with a tidy pile of cash and little dignity. However, today, I was actually looking to purchase some large-ish shirts and/or dresses that I can belt and wear as my boobs explode and mini bump continues to expand, but doesn't quite require tenting. I found a few things all under $7 including, wait for it... an Anthro top. FROM THIS SEASON. THAT I BOUGHT LAST MONTH. FOR $68. Oh yes, the Odille Bianka blouse in navyish was hanging at the back of a pile for $6.50. SCORE! Yes, I have it in a print already, but effing A! I am stoked. But also depressed because I paid $68 when I coulda just got it for you know, 90% off. Curses. And happiness.

Thought of the day:

Can Helen Mirren get any better? The answer is no.

Week 25 Update

At my regularly scheduled ob/gyn appointment last week, the doc suggested/required a 3D ultrasound since TLC was almost knocking at my door when I learned I was con niño to check development, really nail down the due date, etc. So, we did that today. I've decided that instead of carrying a child, I'm carrying a fossil. All I could pick out initially without the tech and doctor specifically pointing out parts was a prehistoric looking spine (which is good, glad you have a spine!!) and K and I both commented on the weirdness of the image. We're definitely not using our imaginations to help construct a baby out of the blurry squashiness. Neither of us is particularly sentimental, but I worry that we're too pragmatic to enjoy any of this. But, I guess it's not about us enjoying anything as much as making sure homeboy gets out alright. That's really my only job. They did finally find his little face (he's 1.1 pounds) and I'm hoping he looks a little better in real life. The picture was all sepia toned and kind of scary. On the other hand, it really confirmed that there's a bebeh in there! It's for real! He's real!

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. Christmas.

You know how when you break up with someone, you go backward thinking, oh man, that last time we blanked was the last time we'll ever blank. Yeah, so last Christmas was the last Christmas I could be semi-selfish and get stuff for myself. Now impending baby jail has imposed new limitations of Christmas gluttony. Damn! Not that I don't want stuff for señor spawn, but I just didn't know I needed to cash in last year. Family has asked what we want, but we know the answer is not a Wii or moolah for a pre-baby vacay. And yes, I am super grateful that anyone asks at all. I am a notoriously horrible gift giver. I think I'm going to have to outsource b-days and Christmas when the kid arrives or I'll scar him (deeper) for life. Right, so, instead of actually getting anything, I have given myself the gift of fantasizing about what I would want. Not that I would get any of it because I ask for too much and it's all too expensive, but that's how I roll.

Tom's - I finally caved over T-day break and bought some black canvas Tom's that were on sale for 25% off. I figured they'd come in handy when I can't see or reach my feet and then later when I don't have time to brush my teeth, let alone contemplate shoes that don't just slip on. And now I'm in love. Perfectly comfortable and versatile, I'd like some more, please.



Breville Panini Press - There is nothing better than crusty, oily bread encasing fontina and salty, salty salami, hot and melty, ready for a dip in some dijon or tapenade. So hungry.



Over the knee boots - I have short, squatty legs (I'm a whopping 5'1" - sorry bebeh, but know that your dad is 6'4" so I think you got a good shot at exceeding the curse of Tom Cruise) and I like to make them look longer. One way is to wear heels. This typically ends in scratches, bruises, cramped and gnarled toes, etc. Another way is over the knee boots. These are seksi (especially in a size 7).



An Evening with David Sedaris tickets - it's like we're old friend and I haven't seen him in a long time. I LOVE YOU and your decidedly annoying voice, which is coming to OKC on April 18.



Kate Spade Desk Calendar - because I can't get enough Kate Spade in my life. Nor can I remember anything. Good combo.



Knitted Cowl - so soft, so warm, so winter, so need it (in fig or lemongrass)!



Tarte Cheek Stain and Fresh Sugar Plum Tinted Lip Balm - they're my favorites and I need more, but they're $$.


Amazon gift card - so I can download all the music I forgot to discover this year. I'm in a music void and I don't like it.

Jonathan Adler Leo Pillow - if you're a Leo, then you totally understand why you need a $100 pillow dedicated to your birth month.



Pretty bling - love these.


Lululemon Groove Pant - I almost forgot! Yes, I spent a ridic amount of money on a pair of yoga pants from Lululemon (the wunderunders to be precise) and it was hard earned money very well spent. I cannot say enough about their comfort and how they've held up. I got them when I weighed 20+ pounds more than now, wore them comfortable after that (not to mention they helped me feel not hideous when running/attempting to run at the gym), and now wear them over el bumpo (although, he's still fairly tiny for 25 weeks). So, I think the groove pants are going to be well worth the price. Oh yes, I will be getting some. Somehow. Someday.

Suck it, Nebrasska

Today's the day. After many a painful misstep this season (in spite of one glorious week/three minutes at the top of the BCS poll), OU finds themselves battling Nebraska one last time (RIP Big 12) for the conference championship. While I'm unsure of our chances, to win, what I am sure of is that this game will be memorable because it'll be the first viewed from our new HUGE ASS/42" TV. That might seem like kid's play to you, but for us, having finally retired my parent's circa 1998 old school 36 incher, it is effing heaven. But, the most important thing is that it was hella cheap. I mean, ridonk. Like less than I can spend on iTunes in an hour. (Not really, but close.) In any case, in spite of, you know, expecting a bebeh, this purchase is actually the most adult I've felt since I signed up for retirement. Kudos, me.

On not shopping

Due to the impending belly (and probably other body parts, but I really, really, really hope not because, dude, my boobs literally cannot get any bigger than they normally are - I'm not bragging, them's just the facts) explosion, I have curtailed my shopping habit 100%. SO EFFING HARD! Oh hey black Friday sales, cyber Monday deals and general holiday steals goodness, I'll just sit out your awesome offerings this year as my waistline disappears into oblivion (which, has happened a little, but mostly because of T-day overexposure and eating lunch out everyday because it tastes sooooo good - however, I can still fit into my skinny jeans at 24 weeks, so huzzah lycra or whatever they're partially made of!). Complain, complain, complain. It's all I do now have ever done. What I'm asking is, for those of you who can take advantage, do it for me. 30% of your entire J.Crew order today! And all of the other super awesome deals out there. Pour one out for your homie.

RIP darling shirt I would've considered for the holidays with your cheery plaid and whimsical beading. I would have tucked you into a short black skirt with inky tights beneath, finished off with suede heels.

Dear baby,

I'm sure there will be a kajillion things I'll love about you, but for now, I'm super excited that your dad, out of nowhere, realized that we'll (finally) need a Christmas tree (ok, maybe not this year, but definitely next!). I'm excited because your father has a black belt in scrooginess, but it appears his black coal holiday heart is melting a little just for you. Who knows, maybe we'll even go totally crazy and put light on the house! Not.

Under Pressure (whine whine whine)

Tomorrow brings the beginning of week 24 and I've yet to feel even a modicum of excitement about the impending arrival of the little dude. Between the shock of the situation, multiple grand parents croaking, T-day and a brutal short work week (hello 14 hour days with no time for meals, but plenty of time for monumental stress) I can't get to a place where I feel like everything's going to be ok and is working out like it should.

This is due in part to the fact that K and I aren't married. Yeah, we're doing this totally out of order, but when your collective parents (and grand/soon to be great grandparents) are old school Oklahomans, this is a stumbling block. I learned that basically neither set of parents is excited or happy (in spite of the fact that K and I have been in a committed relationship for at least three years... and are 28 and 29 respectively, we're not 18) and very concerned because we're unmarried and not ready (duh, anyone who says they're absolutely ready to have a baby is a fucking liar - it's impossible!). I'm not sure if they think one of us is going to bail on the other leaving them to pick up the slack or if they don't want to share the news since instead of us being husband and wife we're boyfriend and girlfriend or what, but it feels super shitty to not have your family behind you 100% during a time like this. Yeah, it's not ideal, but it's not like we're the only people who've found themselves in this situation. I can't imagine that we wouldn't have headed down this path anyway, so what if we headed down it in reverse? Big deal.

In any case, I still barely have a bump (which is fine as long as everything's checking out ok!) and have had pretty much zero symptoms, but dang, this week brought out the weepiness in me something fierce. There's so much to do, so little time, and even less money. The next four months are going to be a shit show, but it will all be worth it in the end, right? RIGHT?

Happy T-day, Y'all!

'Tis the season, no? Today, we will be going to not one, but two Thanksgiving meals within an hour of each other. Yay! Not. My digestive system is basically on strike (thanks spawn), so there's nothing I want less than to participate in social gorging. Believe, me, this is hard. I love eating more than I love reading perezhilton.com all day every day. But, alas, I think I'm going to have to take it really easy or else. Also, there's T-day dinner number 3 on the horizon for Saturday. Yay! Not.

In the meantime, hope this gets you in the mood. From one of my favorite movies, Home for the Holidays:

Also, I'm grateful for a bunch of crap and stuff. There.

Hey 'Ye

Dear spawn,

I hope you like Kanye, because My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is blowing up my speakers. Seriously, this album is really, really good. A lot of people thought 808s and Heartbreaks sucked, but I liked it. However, this is a return to Kanye's best. Boyfriend brings it with well produced, well lyricized compositions that make me hate the radio. And yeah, he's a freak and yeah he writes in ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME, but so fucking what.

Week 23

And really nothing to show for it. This has been a completely symptomless pregnancy, which is great, of course. So far, I've actually lost weight (weird) and am still in my normal clothes (thank God because we are broke, broke, broke). The only typical things are my cravings for cheeseburgers. Wait, that's always been an issue. Other than that, I'm going to trust the docs and the ultrasound since they say everything's there and accounted for (including boy parts) and humming along just fine.

In the meantime, I'm trying to think of all the unprepared moms out there who've made it just fine, like Britney, Khourtney Kardashian, Jamie Lynn Spears, Ashley Simpson, Nicole Richie. I'm in great company, right?

P.S. Would it be wrong to ask for corporate sponsorship for this kid? I would totally name him Devon (hello Devon Energry) or Chesapeake or Coca-Cola or pretty much anything that would pay the bills.

So, that happened.

But before I reveal what "that" is, let us review the following posts. There's this one. And this one. And probably a lot more that I can't remember because I can't remember anything anymore and tire easily. Because, you guessed it: the bee-spot is knocked up. FOR REALZ. Despite my best efforts and my lady doc always telling me my chances of conception aren't awesome (read very minimal), nature conspired to prove everyone wrong. And now, baby bee-spot is no longer a joke, but due this spring. Believe it! (I don't.) Shocked? Me too. But, I'm Oldy McOlderson (29) and am in a stable, long term relationship with my lawyer/boyfriend. No, he's just my boyfriend. He hasn't had to represent me. Yet. So, we were eventually headed this direction, I just anticipated this event happening a little later. However, now that I'm going through it and all that shiz, I'm happy to be 29 since all kinds of additional testing and care is required in just a few short years.

So, now you know. This blog has been dead, obvs, but I've decided to give it new life, literally and figuratively. Mazel tov, me!

it's on.

that is all.

Sunday Shining

I can't remember how this song came into my playlist, probably thanks to early morning VH1 videos back when I had insomnia and they actually played music. In any case, I think of it sometimes, and very creatively, on Sunday. However, I'm not feeling very shiny. Work has been extraordinarily draining (think 14 hour days for going on three weeks), which wouldn't be so bad if I were fairly compensated, but, frankly, I'm just not. Thanks awesome economy. But, it's feeling fall-like outside, my house is relatively clean, the OK state fair is on (Hello fried mashed potatoes on a stick! I'm coming for you.) and I get paid on Thursday. Could be worse, right? RIGHT?



Finley Quaye - Sunday Shining
Uploaded by Dagoba54. - Watch more music videos, in HD!

Sometimes, I think*

that acquaintances, coworkers, friends and family in the OK would understand me a lot better (not that anyone wants to) if they had a better grasp on just what it means to have attended Smith College. Not that it's some high falutin' ivory tower full of monied ladies with brains and that I'm a brilliant feminist, but that it's a shitshow. A SHITSHOW PEOPLE. I say that in the nicest way possible. Moving from one of the most liberal places in OK to Noho is like [insert outrageously opposite analogy here]. Examples include:

• Ladies who are dudes at a women's college.
• Friday afternoon tea service in your residence.
• Opening your dorm room door to naked cartwheel night.
• Showing porn in a college owned auditorium (I showed up for what I thought was an independent film, but at least now I can say I've seen The Opening of Misty Beethoven on the big screen).
• And so many other things I'll never know about since I spent half of my four years there at Dartmouth (oops).

In any case, someone's doing a good job of reminding me of why I'm so screwed up over at Smith'd a blog by Smithies about Smithies. Thanks!





*rarely, though. Don't worry.

Dear boyfriend,

please stop trying to perfect your cookie cake recipe (pretty much daily). When you cut your latest creation into a perfect shape, someone has to eat the crispy reject edges, and that person is me. Then I have to drink milk, which is gross, but a requirement of chocolate chip cookie consumption - I don't make the rules. None of these things are good for me. Desist dude.

BREAKING NEWS

I interrupt this program to bring you the following announcement: TINA FEY ACTUALLY LOOKS GOOD. T-Fey usually Lemons* her fancy outfits but good, however, at the Emmys last night, she looked particularly fabulous. Well played, personal idol.



*see how I did that?

Dear clementines,

I simply adore your easy packaging and tiny tartness. You are pretty much the best fruit out there. Thanks for filling in the space between meals with your perfection.

TV Math

=

In which I kind of feel guilty about ragging on engagement pics

Today, I went to the laundromat to wash my parent's guest bedroom comforter because neither of them have any idea of how to operate a front loading commercial machines and because I suffer from debilitating, chronic, terminal parental guilt syndrome (they've spent a kajillion dollars on me, the least I can do is drag my ass to the laundromat while they're out of town caring for my ailing grandmother kind of thing). While I was there, I observed several couples happily doing their laundry. One of them holds open the door while the other shovels in a load of towels. Another pair folds t-shirts side by side. Another couple sits giggling in front of an open laptop. And another works wordlessly following a long established routine. It was kind of reassuring, like coupling's ok. And wouldn't a laundromat make a wonderful location for an engagement photo shoot? Ok, joking. Or am I?


Cute or potentially criminal? I can't help but remember this.

Things I hate #1,348,073.46

Elaborate engagement photo sessions. They're just weird. Sorry marrieds or about to be marrieds, but no one wants to see overly saturated pics of you in a dress from Anthropologie with cankle creating wedges and your betrothed standing hand in hand in front of a barn. Or train tracks. Or the shitty part of town trying to be some kind of rustic authenticity. Or spread out on a "vintage" quilt in a grassy field. Or a shot of your engagement shoes. Or a black and white of a somber embrace in front of a bookstore because you're literate and cool, we get it. Anyway, that is all. For today.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: So predictable edition.

I am spectacularly lazy on most fronts, but my recent lack of willpower to find new music is shocking even me. Does it all suck? It seems like it all sucks. In any case, I've found a few songs I like, but they're kind of all milquetoast, which I guess is kind of what I'm into, I just don't like to admit it. Here they are in no particular order:

Better Things - Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings: Did you just break up with someone? Still think hateful thoughts about someone you broke up with years ago? Then this song is for you.

1977 - Ana Tijoux: Spanish class!

Release Me - The Like: Since I like Camera Obscura, I'm contractually obligated.

American Troglodyte - David Byrne: American David Byrne fan.

Shadow People - Dr. Dog: Sometimes, I just need to be reminded of Dr. Dog.

Do You Love Me - Guster: Sometimes, I just need to be reminded of college.


On Your Way Down - Trombone Shorty: Dude! The name says it all.

Rains Came - Shelby Lynne: Typical Saturday morning...

Numbers Don't Lie - Mynabirds: Amen. They don't. Also, I'm looking forward to what else this chick does. Should be good.

The Suburbs - Arcade Fire: Required.

Beg Steal or Borrow - Ray Lamontagne & The Pariah Dogs: Ray at his melancholic best.

If I were you, I'd go to elbo.ws for a listen, just in case you might like something. I'm telling you, though, I think I've turned a corner into boring musicville.

Dear boyfriend,

I love you and all that crap, but damn, I wish you ate normal food. You don't like shrimp, mushrooms, beans of any kind, lentils, arborio rice, cabbage, sweet potatoes, peppers, cereal, butter, pork chops, polenta, oatmeal, goat cheese, quinoa, sandwiches, ricotta cheese, cottage cheese, bulgher, squash, most fruits, corn, meatloaf, mashed potatoes and the list goes on and on.

Basically, he survives on tacos and peanut butter, which is all well and good, except that I am hopelessly addicted to about a billion food websites that make me want to cook insane meals all the time. So, what happens is, I read a lot and we eat out a lot. I've got to figure out ways to introduce grown up ingredients without scaring him off. I guess if he doesn't like them, he doesn't like them, but who doesn't like lasagne? Risotto? MASHED POTATOES? Seriously.

I read these every day and lots others when I remember. Don't read if you're even remotely hungry.

Smitten Kitchen
Alexandra's Kitchen
Framed
The Kitchn
Serious Eats
Slashfood
La Tartine Gourmande
Orangette

This is why I love Emma Thompson

So, I turned 29 and all that shit.

Yup. Last week. The night before, the BF told me that he'd gotten us a hotel room in town for a night of luxury because my favorite thing to do is bitch about the poor quality of our mattress while refusing to do anything sensible about it, like, oh, purchase a new one. Because then what would I blame my intrinsic lethargy on, myself? No. Anyway, hotel room, yay! (Forgetting to make arrangements for dog, not so yay. So, Zeb came with us.) I was happy to fall asleep old and wake up older without back pain and with free breakfast! Woot!

I spent the rest of the day lazing about at home as I took the day off from work (we're not really allowed time in August since it's the start of the semester, so I played the birthday card) and went to dinner with the fam at Cheesecake Factory, a totally out of character choice for myself, but I dunno, it's what I wanted.

Which leads me to this terrible revelation. I have eaten out for eight (8) consecutive meals. At restaurants. Like full blown meals. There are several reasons for this, last four day work week Wednesday lunch celebration, pre-birthday dinner, all day birthday gluttony, and then the unexpected day trip (not good reasons, more on this later) which resulted in another all day eating binge. All of this leads me to this. I need these.

I'm like a rare B-side

I've managed to get this song stuck in my head for a few weeks now. Not sure where I came across it, but it's been downloaded and added to the iPod and is in heavy rotation.

Mixtape - Tift Merritt via FiftyCentLighter

Oh, mixtapes. What a wonderful thing. I, of course, remember actually making tapes. Countless Maxells or whatever my dad bought that I would help myself to, holed up in my bedroom, painstakingly planning playlists and gathering resources (records, tapes, cds and now MP3s). I'm pretty confident that the mix tapes and cds I've cobbled together for others over the years are pretty horrible, but, I think that's what has resulted in me being the recipient of totally awesome mix masterpieces. I think people felt sorry for me.

When you're the child of two music dorks (one a high school band/orchestra director and the other an elementary music teacher), you listen to a lot of stuff that a typical child of the 80s/90s might have been spared. Like, do you know all of the words to every musical (stage and screen) from 1940 on? I do. Pippin anyone? Like, can you hum most of the parts to Sibelius' Finlandia? Maybe you can, but I would say that most of my contemporaries were studying different classics, e.g the Stones and the Dead.

Enter friends who don't let friends listen exclusively to KOMA (local oldies station) when they're 16. Into my life came many a wonderful cassette, each with its handwritten track list. I learned about non Brown Eyed Girl Van Morrison, The Specials, De La Soul, Indigo Girls and Ani (before I knew I would go to lesbian central college), The Breeders, Joni Mitchell, Sonic Youth, Handsome Boy Modeling School, Chuck Prophet, Brian Eno, Portishead, and a lot more I can't think of at the moment. There's nothing quite like the first listen, anticipating the next track, hearing the tape click over and over and over. I suppose CDs are good too, but there was something about the pause of the tape as it flipped sides -a very pleasant suspense.

Sounds nerdy, but mix tape creation is so intimate and scary. It's a unique intersection of perceived familiarity with the intended and musical taste. Sometimes the results are magical, sometimes disastrous, but always musical (at least).

Now, excuse me while I try to track down Taj Mahal's (Clara) St. Kitt's Woman.

We're liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiving in a den of thieves

Dear indie world,

I am currently watching 500 Days of Summer. I know I'm like a year late, but better later than never. I'm really looking forward to inevitably regretting my decision to cut bangs a la Zooey.

puppy love

Can I just take a moment to say how much I love my puppy? Which is fortunate, because he's cost me a shit ton in the last six months. Little dude is sweet, goofy, floppy, clumsy, snorey, snorty, clompy on the wood and tile floors, curious, inquisitive, protective (but not too much) and all around lovey. And, when he climbs up onto my chest when I get into bed, I can breathe in his delightful puppy smell and it just makes my whole everything so happy. I will not mention that he has selective listening and behavioral skills, chews up towels like it's his job, cries like a maniac when we leave him, barks at a bird flying across the front yard from inside, sheds like all get out, inflicts massive welts with his nails when he jumps on you (even if you've only been out to check the mail), pees on his own paws, hogs the covers and it goes on.

But, overall, dear Zeb, you are a gem of a dog. Right now, you're sleeping on the (super ugly, but we can't bear to get rid of it since you are so attached) rug, roughly two times the size you were just a few months ago. Your little body heaves with each breath, your tail twitching, your tiny snores. Love.

Have you had one of those days when

you just need a nice glass of red (box) wine to take the edge off (before you take something a little more serious to take the edge off/slip into unconsciousness) while you make (microwave Lean Cuisine) dinner for one while tuning into The Bachelorette? Then you need this:

Giant Wine Glass - Holds a Full Bottle of Wine!

Only $11.97!*

*Plus shipping.

Someone has a birthday coming up... hint: its me!

Sick Day

I'm not sure what's up, but it's like my body is revolting against me. (Note, I did not say that my body is revolting, Shain.) I only slept about three hours last night, am all headachey and blechy today. Blech, blech, blech. I made some toast and went to spread my Great Value brand strawberry preserves and fished out a strawberry with stems and leaves attached. It almost made me cry. Typically, I buy Bonne Maman, but not on my current budget. Sadness. Right, so, my plans for the day include crying over food, reading a Tami Hoag novel and willing myself to go to work at some point. We're on 10 hour per day, four day weeks for summer, so I feel super guilty missing a whole day since they're soooooo long.

In the meantime, it seems like the kind of day to listen to this on repeat.

Well, it's official. Life is kind of sucking balls right now.

Work is simply out of control. So many things I neither can nor should enumerate, but needless to say, I'm committed to exploring other employment opportunities. Pretty much anywhere. Pretty much either in higher education human resources (specifically benefits administration) or general kickassedness. I keep waiting to get a book deal like every other blogger out there, but alas, no dice.

It's about 100 degrees here daily + 1000% humidity which leaves everyone sweaty zombies. Thank the lord for central air, but even that doesn't zap the sapping nature of excessive heat (They keep saying that on the news - excessive compared to what? It's Oklahoma in July. Duh.). To keep my brain and body cool, I've been holing up under the vents perusing blogs with people who have their shit together. I want to be one of those people. I just want to get my poops in a group. It's not that bad, I just think (hope) it could be better. It being my sense of accomplishment when compared to an imaginary bar contrived by me, which is never a good thing.

Right, so, I've been reading Hither and Thither from start to finish. It's lovely and inspirational and confirms my contention that a regular brunch can cure anything. Unfortunately, there's literally nowhere to brunch that's worth a damn in Norman.

keeping it all in perspective

Disclaimer - I'm sure none of these feelings have anything to do with the fact that I turn the big 2-9 in mere weeks. It's totally cool that I've accomplished very little aside from a sizable collection of sale shoes in my 29 years. I've still got all of next year to tick off the things I'd planned before 30... house, real, actual vacation, permanent partner in crime, iPhone, six months of savings, my last killer hangover, twice daily flossing, the ability to tell my family no, etc.

Nice to see you too, dick.

Last night, the BF and I headed up to the Diamond Ballroom in OKC to see my beloved The Hold Steady (yes, that sounds weird). All was well as we sipped $5 24os Modelo (not too bad) until I saw a familiar sight. Or shape, more specifically. This dude off in the distance had an enormous melon. Like huge. I thought to myself, dang! That looks like the ex-boyfriend's head. Poor guy! Then I noticed another dude with a similarly outrageous head. And then I knew. The exbf (and older brother) had descended upon OK from on high (aka New Hampshire) to grace the Sooner state with his presence. Yippee. I have not seen him in about three, three and a half years. In fact, just last month I celebrated four years of break up (thanks!).

Yet still, I totally panicked. Mainly because they had this relatively good looking chick with them. And I am superficial and insecure, so you can see how this goes. After observing the group for a couple minutes I deduced that she was the older bro's date and that she's only dating him for his money (he makes bank). I immediately texted (yeah, I just used that as a verb, shoot me) those who would understand and tried to drink my gigantic beer with shaking hands. This kid rocked me to my core and left me for dead, essentially. And now, here he is, pretending to be cool and like THS (yeah, right). In any case, I calmed down, finished my beer, and enjoyed the show.

I kept urging the current BF to move closer to the stage with me, but he refused because he's super tall, so I scooted up and wouldn't you know it, I wound up about three people behind him. So, I steeled myself and moved forward to tap him on the shoulder. He turned around and I waved. We couldn't hear anything, obvs, so we couldn't say anything. He looked stoned out of his mind, so maybe he didn't recognize me or hates me so much that he pretended not to know who I was. In either case, it was awful. Seriously, dude. We were together for seven years, lived together for three of it and you pretend you don't know who I am?

Oh, for fuck's sake. I don't even know what to say about this other than, damn! But I hope he's happy and all that bullshit. I guess.

OH HELLS NO!

Dudes, seriously. I was sitting at my desk pushing my (very soft and shiny) hair out of my face, brushing my hand across my beck in the process. That's when I felt it. A HAIR. GROWING OUT OF MY NECK. Like it got lost on its way to my head. FOR REALS. What I'm feeling can only be described in all caps and ameliorated with liquor. Hello 29 (although, you're still technically a month away).

Current Obsessions

It's all rainy and crappy today. Buckets and buckets of rain soaking through the roof, the yard, the dog park, my motivation to do anything remotely productive. So, instead, I troll the interwebs looking for distraction/inspiration, which leads to a desire for things.

Like I need this album: Anais Mitchell / Hadestown.

Listen to "Wedding Song"* and tell me it's not perfect for listening to on repeat on a rainy Saturday during a recession. I dare you.

Also, I need these shoes.

What are these adorable creations, you ask? Well, they're Biviel BV2525 and if they didn't cost like $160, they'd be mine. ALL MINE.

In the meantime, I will read my library books. Which are free. Except I probably owe fines.

*via Direct Current

Summersummersummertime

Ah. It's officially summer. Not that we needed a date to tell us that. It's been 90+ degrees everyday for weeks now. The heat is really mucking things up for me. A) I want to drink waaaay too much cold beer. B) Since I sweat every time I step outdoors, I figure that suffices as a work out. Needless to say, this is not a good combo. Know what is a good combo? The Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff.

If you are contemplating your 10 year high school reunion*

don't go. Let me tell you why. Basically, unless you are 1000.5% happy with the trajectory of your post high school life, it's not all that much fun. First, if you left town to go to college, one that was 2000 miles away, and come back to live here again sans super awesome job or adorable family, people will look at you with failure. Two, everyone is married, pregnant or nursing, so you're the only person who gets tanked on the free beer. Finally, if you graduated in 2000, reunion organizers think it's cute to play late 90s/early 2000s music, and we all know that era blew balls. Hard. Don't get me wrong, everyone I blathered to was perfectly nice and well adjusted, but it just wasn't inspiring or even the least bit fun. I'm hoping that at the 30 year mark, we're all rich as fuck and know how to actually throw a kick ass party (still with free beer). In the meantime, must begin scheme to evacuate the OK. I think it's time.

*sounds like a Belle & Sebastian song title, no?

holy flooded downtown metro!

This morning, when I got in my car at 6.45am (yes, 6.45am) to travel to work, I had no idea that three hours later, I would still not be at work and could've been to Dallas. Sure, the commute's a bitch, but not like this! It was smooth sailing for most of the trip north until torrential rain came down making every slow down to about four mph. Then the shit really hit the fan. Every exit I could take to get to work was closed by the highway patrol due to high water. So, I headed downtown to take an alternate route and shit just got worse. Hours later, after driving through many of ill-advised puddles, taking a break in a parking lot, turning around on closed roads, scooting around abandoned, submerged cars, I finally thought I'd schemed a way out of of the mess by heading west then north. But, turns out I headed west then south, because I am awesome at directions. South means home, so home I am. I only have one car. If it gets effed , I'm effed. Now I'm at home, safe and sound, catching up on work, Glee and Jezebel.com. Ah, Oklahoma weather.

This is from msnbc.com, but it's pretty much what it looked like this morning. For realz.

In a related story, doesn't Helen Mirren look stunning (as seen by my fortuitous perusal of Jezebel). On that note, I would like to marry both Ryan Reynolds and ScarJo.
Holy crap are they hot.

It's starting to storm again. What the face, OK?

Question:

I accidentally bought a straw fedora last week to celebrate my staycation (which, in all likelihood, I will never, ever wear). Does this make me:

A) 33.3% douchey

B) 69% douchey , or

C) 100% douchey

I cannot stay away, yet cannot pull off trends - not only because I look like poo, but also because I end up feeling like a huge tool. I mean, really, who wears a straw fedora except UrbanOutfitters models. Enjoy my closet, hat.

(Not to mention I have a super weirdly shaped head, among other things. Date me!)

Anthnooooooooooo!

Boy howdy. I have a new (unhealthy) obsession (is there any other kind?). It's a blog. Or, rather, a new genre of blogs. Blogs completely dedicated to the 20/30 something girl heaven known as Anthropologie. I first discovered Anthro when I lived in New York for a summer (way back in 2000) and wandered into one in Soho. I bought a ton of stuff because it was so unique (read not from the Gap or Banana, which is all we have in OK - this was before we got a JCrew) and cheap! Well, cheap when you have a credit card and no student loans. I was very well heeled for about six months (which is when I moved to Mass and looking cute was not really a priority to anyone, anywhere).

Right, so, there's this whole world out there of Anthrophiles. It's simultaneously inspiring and depressing. I wish I had a million dollars and somewhere to wear all of this stuff. On the bright side, I was inspired to edit my closet and toss out the crap I can't, won't or don't wear and drag all of it to a trendy clothing resale shop (Daisy Exchange) to make some moolah to purchase a few items from Anthro. I walked in and immediately felt out of place because everyone was literally at least 10 years younger than me, but I could hear the girls rifle through my piles and piles (and piles) of clothes without laughing, so I took that as a good sign. I ended up making bank AND the youngin's said I had good taste and super cute clothes. Kudos, me. And then I spent my earnings on awesome things like a teeth cleaning, wrapping paper for wedding gifts, getting Zeb neutered, gas, etc. Needless to say, Anthro items are not in my immediate future, but a girl can dream. And get help styling what I have from living vicariously through the closets of others.

Read 'em and weep.

Anthroholic (as mentioned before and what got this ball rolling)
Infinite Whimsy
Love at First Shop
In Pursuit of Pretty Things
Little Girl Big Closet

And there's like a thousand more. I. Can't. Stop. Also, how do these people afford this habit? I can barely keep up with my Target and Forever 21 addictions. Dang! Finally, I obviously need more belts in my life.

I wanna be a yuppieaire so frickin' bad

Sometimes, I am overcome with feelings of yuppieism. I can't stop myself from imagining my life as a proper yuppie, rather than my current existence as an overgrown college student (although, in a related story, I now sleep on a bed as of yesterday, instead of mattresses piled on the floor!).

The yuppie life of my dreams includes, but is not limited to the following:

Subaru, obvs. Although, the 'trix is close.

Duh.


No duh.

Wardrobe from here

and here.

Trendy exercise a la Bikram. Also, rock climbing.

Compulsory Costa Rica vacation.

West Elm parsons desk from which I produce wildly popular blog.

Dinner parties replete with locally sourced ingredients, brilliant pictures, stylish/worldly friends. Via Sunday Suppers.

iTampon

Unique engagement jewelry (assuming adoring, successful beau). Via St. Kilda.

DIY wedding. Via a backyard wedding.

And much more, obviously. I'm not really this kind of person, per se, but somewhere between style blogs and Facebook, I feel like I should be. Hmm.