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.

The one where I won't hold your baby.

via A Cup of Jo

Yesterday, the BF and I went to his dad's house for a Memorial Day cook out. The BF's dad is recently remarried to a lovely woman with two grown daughters, one of whom just popped out a kid (like six weeks ago). The whole fam, blood, in-laws, steps, halfsies, everyone was there, including the baby. I don't do babies. That came out wrong. What I mean is, I don't know what to do or say to your baby. I don't know what to say to you about your baby. It's not that I don't like babies or kids and whatnot, I'm just not around them that often and don't know what to do. Plus, babies have that soft spot on their head and I don't want to be the one that ruins them because I don't know how to hold them properly. So, when K's dad asked if I wanted to hold little Nate-dog, I said I was all set. He looked at me like I'd just run over a unicorn. I started explaining how I'm just not a baby person and that I'd even texted Lacey (the baby-whisperer) to find out what to say, when I realized I sounded totally selfish and insane. So I went to get a brownie and left him there, probably thinking that at least he won't have to shell out for baby gifts for me anytime soon. So, that's good.

In the meantime, am I supposed to wake up one day feeling all maternal? I'm coming up on 30 and the baby fever hasn't hit me yet. Should I be worried?

In a related story 10 Ways to Avoid Hipster Baby Names.

i don't like doing anything i don't like to do

because that sucks. doesn't it? however, sometimes, external forces dictate that i must. i keep not making any more money, so i'm always a little strapped for cizzash, mainly because what little i do make i spend here. and here. and here. and here. funny story - i still look like crap in spite of dropping serious scrill on the fancy(ier than old navy and ross) brands. anywho, this month, june 2010, i am imposing a moratorium on apparel purchases. i have several pair of shoes that have gone unworn for years. dresses with price tags still attached. skirts i wore once then never ironed to wear again (because i am both lazy and afraid of hot things). well, june is the month when i reclaim my own wardrobe. i was going to do a thing where i wear a different pair of shoes each day, but i chickened out because i'm still super wobbly on heels. but maybe. we shall see. won't we won't see are bags from forever 21 stuffed with crap clothes (that i love, but still, they're crap) and scary credit card bills and bank statements. i can do it!

ghosts of closets past - i clearly have a problem. yes, it's weird because, yes, i still always look a little homeless even in my best outfit. it's a gift. marry me!

exhibit a:




i swear there was an exhibit b, but i can't find it. trust me. it was worse.

Link Love

I'd like to just take a moment to share all of the sites I visit on a regular basis in hopes that someone will talk about them with me. Please? Anyone? ANYONE?

My Year Of Everything - Dave Holmes does all those other books and blogs doing shit for a year. Crockpotting, wearing one outfit, living biblically, cooking Julia Child recipes, you get the picture.

Anthroholic - someone shows how to not make Anthropologie pretties look like your gram's castoffs.

Selleck Waterfall Sandwich - exactly what it sounds like.

Mrs. Lilien - sumptuous, well sourced arrangements of things I can't afford (but shouldn't buy if I could. I mean really, a $1000 mint julep?)

What Would Emma Pillsbury Wear? - I can't get that into Glee, but I can get into cardigans.

Heat Eat Review - Update this piece, bitches! But, in the meantime, very useful if you work in an office with a microwave.

Fed Up with Lunch: The School Lunch Project - ew ew ew. This is why I packed my lunch everyday during school (Mom wouldn't do it). Also, the kids don't stand a chance.

what i wore today... in drawings - aw, cute.

denise hearts jasper - click on soundtrack. Start downloading.

How is it

that I look totally awesome when I check myself out at home before I leave for work, but by the time I get to work I'm a rumpled, homely mess? It's like that episode of Seinfeld when he has the simultaneously hot and ugly girlfriend depending on the lighting, etc. Good thing I work in a basement so no one can see me. Hooray for mole people!

Dear Gary England,

You owe me $140.

Yesterday, you got on the tube and starting creaming your pleated front Dockers about "weather events" running amock around the state. And I listened. Like a 'tard. Your incessant screeching about baseball sized hail ripping through Noble heading toward Norman compelled me to seek shelter for my new (to me) car.

Now, I don't have a garage, per se, but a detachable old-timey garage-shed-type-thing at the end of the long gravel driveway. Classy, yes? So, the BF and I make a run for it into blinding rain to open the doors to this thing and jockey the cars around so I can pull in. Which I do. It's when I get out that I hear a hissing sound. The sound of a punctured tire. AWESOME! Soaking wet, the BF and I head back inside to wait out the impending weather armageddon before surveying the damage. We wait. And wait. And wait. Guess what? No hail. No straight line winds. No tornado (in spite of the screaming sirens all night). NO FUCKING ANYTHING! After the rain ended, skies cleared and the sun shined. And my heart closed forever to the Oklahoman in me that reveres all things Gary England. He is dead to me.

Much like my tire. The BF put on his man pants and put on the spare. I got the new tire put on this morning. Yes, $140 is cheaper than hail damage, surely. But still, Gary, you can make the check out to I am an idiot.

RIP (in my heart) Lord Gary

p.s. This is why I was motivated to move my car and attempted to believe these weather jokers.

Yay for Smith!

Although I love to hate on Smith sometimes, I still love it. Like you love something like this. This year, Rachel Maddow was the commencement speaker, much better than my year's whoever it was... Anywho. Listen to her address. It's pretty rad.

Watch her speech here.

Check out these super awesome graduate's shoes here.*

*Smith has a thing where you have to wear white and black shoes, which makes me want to die, but these are some pretty awesome shoes to offset the unnatural, virginal white they encourage.

Things I Hate # 4,739:

couples with joint Facebook or email accounts. Seriously? Do these people understand the purpose of social networking and untraceable email accounts? Duh.

Want to know how awesome I am?

I wish I could stay up late enough to watch the new Adult Swim show featuring Dr. Steve Brule of Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job. But I can't. Because I'm old. Did you know that I'll be 29 in something like less than 80 days? I know, right. I have a lot to show for my 29 years, though, so that's cool. Mainly that I've watched every episode of seasons one through five of TAEASGJ. Marry me.

Question:

is it wrong that I prune the lady garden more for my gyno than my bf?

OMG! There was totally a tornado

down the street from my house last night. I definitely had the interior most closet prepped with some pillows and a battery powered radio. Thankfully, the tornado hit The Commons aka apartment complex packed with annoying college kids. They were all fine. Whatever. In any case, 'tis the season! Tornado season.

Lord Gary:



Get on down to your fraidy hole:

in which i am lame

I like blogs. I like reading blogs. I like commenting on blogs. I like reading comments on blogs. I like blogging. Sort of. I can't seem to get my act together keeping up with this thing, but I think that I need to try. Lately, I've become more boring than myself circa 2007, which is shocking, really. I didn't think it was actually possible. In any case, no one reads this, which is cool, so I'm just going to start posting for myself. Because it's always been all about me anyway.



And on that note, have you ever gone to get a hair cut, your first in say, six months (not cool, I know) and then left the salon with the midwestern news anchor? I just can't win in the hair department. I either need to go Crystal Gale or go home.

oh for fuck's sake

I love me some Smith College. I really do. But sometimes, I want to take its whatever it is, radical liberalism, something, I don't really know, and shove it up its cunt. Except I can't say that because that's gender specific. Except Smith's a college for women. So I want to shove it up its reconstructed peen hole.

Love you Smith!

Bath Tub Time Machine

Did you know that my house has two full baths? Well, it does. One has a shower, the other a tub. Since ghosts of roommates past always used the bath with the tub, I've always been skeeved out by it. But, yesterday, after deciding I'd sufficiently cleaned it (again), I went for it. And it was awesome. I listened to This American Life. I opened the window so it was kinda like a hot tub outside thing happening. I used an entire thing of bubble bath and kept refilling the tub with more hot water (we have two hot water tanks for some reason). Seeing as how my vacation budget has been eaten up by the dog, this is probably as good as it's going to get this year.

Awesome picture, no?

I should've been a vet

Dang! We had to take Zeb to the vet last night. I had to take out a small loan this morning. I joke, sort of. Little dude got his guts in a twist and was puking et al yesterday. So, we take him in and he's examined (for $41) and then probed (for $26) and then tested (for $100) and then diagnosed and finally treated (for $1,000,000.00). He had a high itestinal (lunch anyone?) bacteria count and was given injections of antibiotics and other stuff to get him back on track. I also paid for doggie Imodium, more antibiotics and had to cook him rice and chicken for dinner (more than I do for most people). Long story short, I'm out a lot of money for a dog that completely rebounded by midnight last night.

If Zeb were a kid, I'd totally have just pumped him full of Pedialyte and some saltines and plopped him in front of Sponge Bob while I mixed up some G&Ts for myself with the money I saved from not taking him to the doctor. Does this make me a bad person? How come I care more about my dog than a kid (Not that I have one. That I know of. There were some crazy times.)?

The bottom line is I should've been a vet.

P.S. Happy tax day! (Dear OK, you will get mine tomorrow. Love in Christ, B)