As seen on Facebook

I have got to stop cross-contaminating my storytelling devices (ie posting the same things on Twitter as I do on Facebook and my blog). You may have already heard this story from my status message this weekend on Facebook, but even if you did, you didn't hear the whole story, so here it is.

Four years ago I started working in Columbus, Ohio. One of the first weekends I was out in Columbus, I went to a bar called Brothers with some friends from my training class. Brothers has a large outdoor patio. They specialize in $1 shots some nights of the week - this might tell you what kind of bar it is and what kind of people patronize Brothers (but I was there, so what can I say). Let's just say it was a good bar to use to transition from college to professional life. And again I use the term professional loosely as it relates to my job.

So my friends and I were standing in a large circle on this outdoor patio and a guy comes up, taps me on the shoulder (kind of aggressively, actually), and says "Hello, you are looking very cool tonight" with a thick accent. I said thanks and tried to go back to my conversation...he persisted. He introduced himself as "Ali-sahn" and stood there talking to me until I gave him a phone number (fake) to get him to leave. He then said "I'll call you right now so you have my number" and I said "Oh I don't have service right now so it must not be coming through" (honestly, men, if this ever happens to you, it is a SURE SIGN that she is fake-numbering you. Just delete the number immediately). Life went on, but my friends and I never forgot the legend of the guy-named-Alison-who-said-you-are-looking-very-cool-tonight. NOR have I forgotten that my friend Paul who was standing next to me at the time did NOT pretend to be my boyfriend to get that CREEP to go away.

Fast forward 4 years to this past Saturday night. I was feeling preeeeetty bad for myself because a guy who I wanted to call me hadn't (he has since gotten in touch and claims he had the wrong phone number for me...I don't know if I buy it, but he's getting the benefit of the doubt for the moment), so I went to Trader Joe's, by myself, at 8 pm on a Saturday night. I am the ultimate of cool, in case you were wondering.

In my self-pity-frenzy, I buy the following (let's see how good my memory is):
apple slices
garlic hummus (love)
2 bags of pretzel thins
1 bag of pita chips
cheese sticks
2 frozen pizzas
sugar snap peas
gallon of milk (this becomes important)
3 frozen-indian-food meals
2 bags of salad greens

Ok I think that's it. Regardless, I buy all of these groceries and I'm struggling to get from the store to my car with two full bags in one hand and my car keys + gallon of milk in the other hand. I exit the store and walk past a guy who appears to be kind of confused (he's just kind of lingering by the entrance). As I walk by he says "Excuse me, miss?" and I turn, thinking that he's lost (he has a foreign accent, and there's a hotel next to Trader Joe's, snap judgement). Guess what he says to me.

No really, just guess.

"You are looking very nice tonight."

Do you see where this story is going?

It was the same mother-effing dude. He, again, talks to me for a solid 5 minutes, even though I repeatedly shift my weight, indicating how uncomfortable I am standing there with my pounds and pounds of groceries, not to mention frozen and refrigerated goods. He says to me "I'm surprised you didn't ask about my accent, I'm French Guinea" to which I thought "I didn't ask because I don't effing care," but to which I replied with some unintelligible bit of murmuring. I mean, at LEAST the guy has updated the word from cool to nice in 4 years, but COME ON.

He asked for my phone number, and I again gave him my go-to fake number.

My life has reached an all-time low.

I mean, yeah, I should be flattered that the same person (really, that ANY person) found me attractive enough multiple times to work up the nerve to speak to me and put himself out there in that way, but COME ON PEOPLE. First of all, women do not appreciate being picked up SO BLATANTLY solely on the basis of their looks. He knew nothing about me aside from the fact that I shopped at Trader Joe's on a Saturday night by myself (scent of desperation?) and that I am female. Oh, and that I wear casual clothing. The end. To me, that is not a good enough reason to ask someone for their phone number, but maybe I just need to carpe my diem a little more. I don't know.

But before you ask, no, I do not for even a second feel bad for giving this guy a fake number. I have zero interest in ever seeing him again, but maybe I'll just give it 4 more years and see how it goes next time around.

This is the best birthday present ever

(except for the ones all of you sent me ;) )

XOs check this out to learn about Alby the skateboarding owl!!

(credit goes to Mr. Paul Soper for sending me this link. And for getting me a cozy horse for my birthday.)

i love me some mashups

If you do too, you should listen to this one.

Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back...

Poetry and motion

Two separate stories for you today.

The first I have been meaning to tell on here for a quite a while, and Molly Laufer, this one goes out to you again because I hope it will make you laugh long enough to get you through the VERY FEW DAYS you have left before you return home!!

So I have started taking this dance class at the gym on Sunday afternoons. I can't remember if I've mentioned this class before or not, but it is amazing. Seriously it's me and a bunch of 60+ yr old women shaking our booties to "Oh hot damn, this is my jam" (which, coincidentally, IS my jam). So anyway a few weeks ago we were dancing to "Single Ladies" and I got super excited...I have been seriously considering freeze-framing the video for months in order to learn the dance. There's really no reason for me to be learning this dance, other than the potential fulfillment of my lifelong dream that someday my life will become a musical. Anyway, the dance was slightly modified from the video, and there was one part where we do (this is all very technical, please try to keep up) - spin spin clap right, spin spin clap left, stripper booty drop, shoulder shoulder shoulder. So I was so into this dance and thinking I was so awesome that instead of the above, I did spin spin clap right, spin spin clap left, spin spin clap right, ohgodnooneelseisspinningilooklikeanidiot.

While everyone else was stripper booty dropping, I was still spinning around the middle of the room. By myself. Luckily none of the ladies my mom's age are too judgemental...no one laughed (audibly, at least).

The second is - I'm not sure how many of you know this - but I write poetry frequently. This past summer I got up the courage to go downtown to an open mic poetry reading and read some of my poetry. It's usually in a park but the weather wasn't the best so it was moved into a local dive bar, and the two readers that night were myself and a Vietnam vet. My friend Meghan and her boyfriend Cam came to support me. I drank some of our shared pitcher of beer and went up to the mic and read my two poems - both about the same guy, one written at the beginning of our relationship, one at the end. After the reading was over, I went up to the bar to settle up my tab, and the bartender - this big, burly dude with huge muscles and a shaved head - said "I liked your poems. They were real good," with the most earnest, sincere expression on his face.

It made my day.

Just in case you were wondering...

The forecast for Friday, March 26 in Las Vegas, NV is 75* and sunny.

Viva Las Vegas!

Text based conversation strikes again

(Thanks to Molly Vaughn for reminding me about this story with her latest comment)

So a couple of weeks ago I was talking to my best friend on Gchat and she said "that's what she said" and, being the 5 year old I am, I assumed that she meant it in the pop culture way that Michael from the Office says it (if you don't know what I'm referring to, you probably shouldn't read this blog, it will probably offend you). So, I'd never heard her say "That's what she said" before that I can remember, so even though I couldn't for the life of me figure out what she was referring to, I just tried to be supportive and said "Oh, haha!" while trying to figure out how it related to the conversation.

So eventually I say "You saying that is funny to me" and I tell her that I'd just told everyone at my table that she'd said it (and that I still couldn't figure out why) - so she goes "What are you talking about? That's what she said? I just realized I said that" and I was like Oh my gosh, she like, subconsciously typed That's what she said without meaning to, this is weird. We go back and forth like this with a ton of "What? What did you realize? What was funny?" for a few minutes until finally she says that she meant to include a question mark when she originally said it - as in, really asking the question of "That's what she said?" and in no way trying to make a dirty joke, which, when you think about me sitting here typing "Hahaha!" and trying to figure out what was funny, is great. I was just really trying to be supportive of her foray into inappropriate jokes.

Sigh. I need to grow up. And I just realized no one will probably find this as funny as I do.

What the what?

So I was at the gym last night, and during my running training I have found that one of my favorite activities is to make awkward eye contact with fellow runners/exercise enthusiasts as I make my way around the track. Last night some creepo on the stairmaster wiggled his eyebrows at me. I kept my eyes straight ahead from that point forward (except for one point where I caught my trainer watching me while he was training two older ladies and I then proceeded to smile for the next lap. No movement in that area yet though (that's what she said)).

But to the point of this post - last night I was running my laps and there came a point where there was a big holdup on the track - I glanced over my shoulder after I passed the group to see who the heck they were, and I kid you not, this group of people was 7 asian guys and 1 white guy in a Panda Express t-shirt. Did he really think that was going to help him fit in better?

More hilarious typos

I frequently make mistakes while typing and I think that the results of those mistakes can provide a lot of humor. Another thing that is quite humorous is when you type something into your phone and it suggests what it thinks you want, but it's totally wrong. So I encourage you to record those things here so that everyone can enjoy.

In an e-mail to a friend, I just typed "Columbus Rubbing Company." Which is NOT the same as "Columbus Running Company." I'd like to know what a Rubbing Company would do.

Happy Thursday.

Bob Loblaw's law blog

UPDATE:
Things that have happened related to the halter monitor (for clarification's sake, I am wearing the monitor part on a belt around my hips, and I've covered the electrodes on my chest today with a more coverage-friendly t-shirt):
1) a guy in my department walks by and says "Are you wearing a digital fanny pack?"
2) my boss' boss asks how my crotch clock is doing
3) i tell people i'm part robot
4) i tell people i'm part bomb

Say the title out loud. It's from Arrested Development. It makes me laugh.

1. Today at lunchtime I had to leave work to go to the cardiologist (something's bothering me about my heart lately), so I stopped at Subway to get lunch, and at their soda fountain, I mixed Diet Coke with Coke Zero, and let me tell you, the results were pretty good. I find Coca Cola to be too sweet now that I'm used to Diet Coke, and there's something a teensy bit too acidic/chemical about Coke Zero for me (sorry), so the mixture was perfect. Try it out sometime.
2. So I am currently part robot because I am wearing what is essentially a portable EKG machine. I have little electrodes all over my chest (like you see in the movies) and they're connected to a little box I am wearing on a belt around my hips. I have to wear it for 24 hours and it's going to monitor my heart activity. People are kind of looking at me funny. I'll let you know if anything interesting comes of this...

Blessed and Lucky

So if you came around today looking for a light hearted, "Bridget's sharing her most embarrassing (daily) moments with us again" post, maybe skip this one and continue on to the one below from yesterday - it will fill your requirements much better. This one is lighter on the random and heavier on the honesty.

I got out of bed super late this morning. As in, the "almost this afternoon" kind of "this morning." As I was lolling about in bed, I checked Facebook to see what people were up to and saw a status update of my friend/college roommate Sara Rich. Sara is - and always has been since I've known her - extraordinary. Naturally, I mean, I try to make it a habit to only befriend extraordinary people :-) You can find her blog here. (I almost didn't post that link because her blog made my blog feel so intimidated). Anyway, Sara lived on the same hall as me in Lefevre (one of the "Old Dorms" at UVA) and then we lived together for our 2nd year in an apartment back on Preston.

I think when I knew Sara, I must have had a six pack because she made me laugh so often. She also convinced me to join the rugby team where I got my ankle broken, but that's a story for another day. If you've heard Sara Rich laugh, you never forget it. She literally changed the way that I laugh. I know that sounds funny, but it's like her laugh is an infection, and your laugh hears her laugh and gets laugh-envy and changes to be just like hers. She laughs like a crazy person (in the best way possible) and it's amazing. Try it sometimes - just totally let go while you're laughing and you'll see - it will be come this screaming/laughing thing in your voice. Anyway, this post is not about her laugh. It's about her life and who she is, among other things. I'm not going to get into what she's doing right now because she can tell you much better in her own words on her blog, but basically, Sara quit her job as a teacher, picked up her life, and moved it all to Goma (not gonna lie, I just Googled "Where is Goma?"...it's in the Congo, to save you the trouble) to be a volunteer and to make a difference in the educational programs for young people there.

What?

This chick and I lived together for two years, and after school she moves to the Congo to help people and I move to Ohio (which I'd like to compare to the Congo but I don't want to because I don't want to disrespect what Sara is doing) to make clothing that encourages a lack of self esteem in young people. I just had one of those "What the HELL am I doing?" moments this morning.

Sara. You are an inspiration.

So after I eventually forced myself to get out of bed, I watched some DVR, and then went to Panera to get some lunch. Or breakfast. Brunch. Whatever. Let me tell you, if you go to the Panera on Hamilton on the first sunny Saturday in Columbus in MONTHS, you better really effing want to be there. That place was packed. It reminded me of what it must have been like that time that the manager at the Panera in Barracks asked Austin to leave while she was studying because there were too many people there. I don't know why I remember that. But I digress. You know what I'm really good at? Digressing. You know who else is? Molly Laufer.

Seriously, back to the point. I order my food at Panera and go to wait in line to pick it up, and there's a woman there who is trying to pick up her food as well. She already has her drink in her hand and it's shaking - the drink is shaking, her hands/arms are shaking, and she's really struggling. Then her food is placed on the counter and she tries to get it and when she picks it up, that starts shaking too. I was paralyzed. I had no idea what to do. Do I offer to help, or is that offensive? As if saying to this woman, oh, you obviously can't handle yourself, so why don't I swoop in here and help you because I am so capable? It felt like an argument in favor of all those who believe that volunteerism is really just an exercise in narcissism. In the end she handled it fine and got to her table, but I can't stop thinking about it. What is so hard about my life, after all? Nothing, really. Yeah, I get irritated about every 5 minutes with things that I'd like to change, but let's be real. In the end, I am extremely, embarrassingly lucky. I am able-bodied, I am smart, I've had all the opportunities anyone could want, but what have I done with them? Not enough. Not yet.

And then I think about you people. One time I told my Planner (the person who tells me how much of each item I have to buy in order to make the amount of money I need to make) that I have a couple of blogs, and he said "I always thought blogs were for people who needed another way to talk about themselves." And you know what? He's kind of right. Now, don't get me wrong, I love reading the blogs of all my friends and if you stop blogging I will come to your house and tape your hands to the keyboard (don't think I'm above that. I'm not above much). But the thing is, I have these friends who don't care that all this blog is is another way to talk about myself, and you like it and you read it and you care. How great is that? You don't care when it is just random honesty, you still want to hear what I have to say. That's pretty great.

So I come back to the title of this post - I am blessed and lucky. And the reminders that I get of just how blessed and lucky I am are blessings in themselves. The question then becomes, what am I going to do with this knowledge? Move to Goma? Let's be real, there's a reason that people like Sara are extraordinary - because they have the guts to do something like that. I am not one of those people, and that's another reason on the list of reasons why I respect Sara so much. Maybe I'll just be a little better about letting (or rather, not letting) all those silly little things that I cannot control irritate me. Maybe it's as simple as remembering all the time just how blessed and lucky I am.

I've taken agin' snow.

So everyone knows Ohio is super snowy, right? The other day in an e-mail to my friend Noodle I called it "SNOWhio" and then patted myself on the back. Had anyone else thought of that before? Because I am pretty proud.

Anyway, this story relates to the snow. In the month of February (also known on some calendars as the month-before-bridget-was-born), it snowed probably about a foot a week in the Columbus area (I may or may not be exaggerating, but you don't really know, do you?...because I don't either), and some of the storms were just a foot piling onto the previous foot when the previous foot hadn't had time to melt yet. Temperatures haven't risen above freezing in Columbus....ever, I don't think, so the snow is still just chillin' (pun intended), hanging around taking up precious space on our sidewalks and in our parking lots. It's been so long since local inhabitants have seen grass that the deer on our campus at work have given up on trying to hide and have just started standing directly outside the buildings to eat the patches of grass that are exposed there.

Moving on...so a week ago I was trying to walk to my car, I decided that the snow had had its selfish way with the sidewalk I usually take for LONG ENOUGH! So I proceed stomping down the sidewalk, really showing that snow who's boss, until I come to the point where the sidewalk meets the parking lot and I am met by a 6' tall MOUNTAIN OF SNOW! Ok so it was really more like 3' tall, but it was big. It's too late to give up now, so I climb up the little mountain of snow, reach the top, and come tumbling down the other side. I couldn't find my footing as I slid down the other side, so I basically come sliding hands/face-first into the parking lot and land sprawled across the hood of the first car parked in that row, which is embarrassing enough already, but gets even better when you know that the person who OWNS said car was, at that moment, trying to open the driver's side door to leave for work.

Seriously? My timing is impeccable.

I mumbled apologies and scampered around her car to make it to my own, parked next to hers. I wonder how many people she's told that story to ("So this idiot falls on my car..."). Anyway, I thought this would make you laugh so I wanted to pass it along and brighten your Friday a bit.

Bad and random signs

So I am wearing this top today (I just searched for like 10 min and couldn't find a picture of it, so you're just going to have to imagine in your mind). It has all the colors of the rainbow on it, it's a jersey knit material, deep v in the front and back with a navy band that cinches under the bust and ties in a bow in the back. It's not striped or anything, just kind of colors splashed in an abstract geometrical pattern.

Anyway, people keep complimenting me on my top and telling me how cute it is, and my thing is, it's not from any of the brands that our company owns. It's from a different brand (Lizzy, you'll not be surprised to learn it is from Anthro. They called me when you stopped shopping for a month and said I had to help make up the deficit in their sales, so I helped them out a bit). Don't you think that's a bad sign? 95% of the time, I'm wearing stuff from our stores, and 95% of the time, I don't get compliments on my outfits. But then I wear something not by us, and I've gotten more compliments than I can count today. Well, one girl did say "Your top makes me feel like I'm on drugs" because of all the colors, but I'll take that as a positive thing. Anyway, don't think it's a good sign that I've gotten all these compliments based on wearing something not from our brands.

On another note, one of the things I really appreciate about this company is that they provide free name-brand tampons (Not entirely sure it matters that they're name-brand, but it makes me feel better) in the women's bathrooms (I mean, they may supply them in the men's too, but that would be weird if I were in there, and it would also be weird if they were in there), but the tampons have been missing from the bathroom for the last week (which, depending on what week it is, can be very inconvenient). So today I go into the bathroom and there's a post-it on the mirror that says "TAMPONS PLEASE."

I laughed. I thought you might too.

I get by with a little help from my friends

UPDATE: Presents in the mail. Be on the lookout!

I thought that since I whined and got some much needed love & support from you ladies this week, from comments on the blog to a pre-run text from Lizzy, I thought I should let you know how my long run this weekend went.

I got up yesterday morning and thought I should go to my local running shop and see if I needed new shoes. I spent a while with the (cute) salesman looking at my shoes/stride/etc and eventually decided that what I needed to get my running groove back was 1) my third pair of Brooks Adrenaline running shoes (I've worn out the previous two, I'm not just collecting them, I promise) and 2) a fancy little heart rate monitor (I've been having some weird heart concerns lately, pretty sure so far it's nothing serious but figured a heart rate monitor never hurt anything).

So I went to the gym yesterday after I got my new shoes, I put on my iPod and headphones, started out around the track (I had 54 laps ahead of me to complete my 6 mile long run of the week) and got into my rhythm. It definitely wasn't easy at first, but I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, and you know what? I did it! I ran 6 miles straight without stopping! I was so proud of myself and when I was feeling really tired I just kept thinking about you guys and your support and it pushed me along!

I am making a little thank you for each one of you tonight and will hopefully be able to get it in the mail tomorrow, so look for it! Smolls I'll send yours to SD and it can meet you when you get home! :-)

I desperately need a pep talk.

Running a marathon is on my bucket list. So I figured the first step to running a marathon is running a half marathon, right? So I started training for this half marathon. And by training I mean vaguely running more than I had run in the past. I stopped running for a few weeks in there when my shin splints were unbearably painful, but then my friend Annie and I agreed to run the half together in Charlottesville (because really, if you have to run 13 miles, why not do it in the best place on Earth?) and I got myself back on track...no pun intended.

Anyway, I've been in intense training mode since I returned from Jamaica. My steps in training for this half have included:
1) joining the gym next door to my apartment complex (this may or may not have also included an ulterior motive in that I wanted to find a place to meet men...preferably straight men, I know plenty of un-straight men but I'm not their type)
2) running 3 days a week (2 shorter runs + 1 longer run on the weekend), cross training 2 days a week, lifting weights 2 days a week, and resting 1 day/week.
3) signed up for 1 session a week with a (supercute) trainer (again, may or may not have same ulterior motive as above)

I have been successful so far, and I've managed to increase my "longest mileage run without walking" from 3 miles to 5 miles, of which I was pretty gosh darn proud, but I did that 5 mile run this past Saturday, and I am totally hitting a wall this week. I did 4 miles on Monday, went to meet my trainer on Tuesday, and was supposed to do 4 miles again last night but ended up having to complete said 4 miles in sprint/walk intervals because my shin splits wanted a piece of the action again.

I have to do 6 miles on Saturday and I can think of roughly 1 million things I'd rather do instead (top of the list: staying in bed). I know I'm just having an unfortunately extended case of the Mondays this week, but I need some help to snap out of it. Anyone got any advice on how to break down this wall I am running into??

At least I'm consistent.

Last night I was talking to my friend Brad on the phone and this happened:

me: "I have to tell you this story, it's classic Bridget, you'll laugh"

him: "Did you fall in love with some guy and then do something embarrassing?"

me: "I hate you...yes."

In case you're wondering, the "some guy" is my trainer, and the "something embarrassing" is me thinking (to myself, thank you) "How long do we have to be dating each other before I can stop paying him to train me?"

This article is SO INTERESTING.

I'm not saying I agree or disagree, but she does make a convincing argument. The jury is still out as to whether or not I even want to get married (ever...which makes my mom have panic attacks), so I found this article to be fascinating. Take a few minutes and read it (it's quite long) and let me know what you think. The basic premise of the article is that women who have not yet found Mr. Right should settle in order to get married and have a family.

So I need some help with my groin.

Bahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

OK so to all my running homies out there, I've made the transition from treadmill to track (I just typed treadmilly and giggled a little bit) and my right hip is really bothering me. I know I put groin in the title, but it was way more scandalous than hip, and it's in the same general area. Anyway, Molly V, you suggested standing with one hip out to stretch my hip flexors, and if you could have seen me trying to do this last night at the gym after my run, you would have peed your pants. I seriously thought to myself, how could I set my iPhone up to tape myself doing this and then send it to Molly? It was. Unbelievable. Imagine me looking like I'm trying to do an imitation of a 5 year old with attitude. Needless to say, the laughter impeded the success of the stretching.

Just as my laughter is currently impeding the success of my work as I Google the following:

1) 5 year old with attitude

2) 5 year old hips jutting

3) 5 year old hands on hips

4) child hands on hips

This was my favorite result because it follows my clearly stated rule that children must be dressed in animal costumes until age 5, but it really doesn't display what I was trying to get at:

Please note I saved this image as "wtf.jpg"

But I digress. The whole point of this was to ask - do you have any suggestions for how to stretch my hip/make it stop aching in general? Videos/pictures welcome.

My iPod is so topical

So on Saturday I was at the gym and I had just done my "long run" for the week (still only up to 5 miles, but that's 5 miles longer than I would have run had I not been training for this half marathon, so that's good! Let's stay positive here people) and so I was trying to stretch out my hips and I was lying on the ground and thrusting (hahahahaha, anytime anyone says thrust it makes me start laughing, even if it's me and I knew it was about to happen) my hips into the air to try to stretch, and the song "Dirrty" came on my iPod.

Please recall the other time this happened, when I was using the "good girl/bad girl" machines as I like to call them (where you push your knees together or apart depending on the machine). My iPod is apparently really judgemental/prudish or it has a great sense of humor.

Or I just build a ton of playlists with Dirrty on them (likely).

Oh, and if you can think of other ways to stretch my hips pls let me know.

To the love(s) of my life.

My friends Molly (and I meant that to be plural, two of my best friends are named Molly) suggested that I write a post about how much I love people named Molly, and while I would happily oblige (I could write a very very long list about reasons I love these two ladies in particular), I didn't want anyone to feel left out, especially not when I am so lucky to have so many people in my life that I love.

Some of my best friends have husbands, some have boyfriends, some have cats, dogs, imaginary friends, whatever. Everyone has a different set of circumstances, a different hand of cards to play. But the one thing we all have is each other. I'm not quite sure how I would have made it through the past few years without my best friends, but I do know it would have been with a lot less laughter. I am so so SO lucky to have each of you in my life and I thank 8 pound 9 ounce baby Jesus every day that you all tolerate me as well as you do. So whatever your circumstances are - whatever your hand of cards - just remember how lucky you are to have your friends. You guys are the loves of my life.

My one and only Valentine

The greatest love of my life, Diet Coke, now officially loves me back. How do I know? It sent me a Valentine, of course:I am really looking forward to spending a happy Valentine's day with my beloved. Hope you all have a great Valentines day as well!

Supporting an awesome fellow Wahoo

Just wanted to get this blog out there for even more people to see - I really enjoy reading the blog of my friend (and fellow COMM06 Classmate) Carter at http://the-kitchenette.com/. I also follow her on Twitter. One time she got retweeted by Whole Foods (who I also follow) and I felt so cool to know someone being retweeted by an organization like Whole Foods!! Her blog posts always make my mouth water - so check it out and enjoy!

Friday Friday Friday Friday

A few things:

1. Tonight is the opening ceremony of the Olympics. Therefore, I am prepared to lose my friend Lizzy (www.thebeeandlee.blogspot.com) to the dark side of the moon for the next two weeks. I just really enjoy saying the dark side of the moon. It seems...dramatic.
2. Earlier I meant to type "meet" and instead I typed "meat" and then started laughing. I think meating a person is very different from meeting a person. I'm telling you, typos are where it's at. And by it, I mean the Funny.
3. Just in case you haven't already seen this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_udqEp_YR4 Prepare to giggle uncontrollably.
4. I had something else to say but now I can't remember. If I remember later I'll update.

Mixed nuts

The girl who sits next to me gave me her can of mixed nuts so I could have a snack, and I pulled out one of those giant nuts (Brazil nuts?...yes, Brazil nuts. Confirmed below.)

and I was like "Seriously, who eats these giant nuts?" and I look up to see the two boys across from me smiling in a very creepy way.

So then I say "Idiots" and drop the nut back into the can, and one of the guys goes "Well clearly you like big nuts" and I was like "What does that even mean?" and he...was gross.

Anyway so then I was starting this blog post, and this happened:

"Yeah, they're Brazil nuts" - me

"How did you figure that out?" - my friend with the mixed nuts

"I googled it" -me

"Googled what?" -friend

"Brazil nuts."-me

"Oh. Good. I just wanted to make sure you didn't Google giant nuts."

For new readers, I promise the blog isn't normally this dirty.

Chili cheese Superbowl dip...for Cookie

I make this every year for the Superbowl and my friend Cookie requested that I post the recipe on the blog...so here it is...it's super simple.

1 8 oz block of cream cheese at room temperature
2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese (suppose you could try another cheese if you want)
1 can of chili (I usually use Hormel w/no beans. It's up to you. I tried using homemade chili once and it turned out way too watery, but maybe your homemade chili is less liquidy than mine).

Preheat oven to 350*. Spread the cream cheese into an even layer on the bottom of a pie dish. Spread the chili on top of the cream cheese, and then sprinkle the cheddar on top. Bake in the 350* oven 15-20 minutes (until cheddar is completely melted and getting bubbly on top). Let it cool just a bit before digging in - the middle chili layer will be VERY hot.

I usually serve it with Fritos scoops, but some people prefer it with Tostitos or the like. Leftovers are also delicious microwaved and mixed all together - it doesn't have to be in the layers :-)

Also

A guy who works in my department just yelled "How 'bout you put that in my box?" across the floor and I started laughing.

Can and will this be used against me in a court of law?

Another thing you could convince your children of as a social experiment -

Snow = icing. I am thinking of this right now as I look at the trees out the window at work and they look like they were iced lovingly by a baker. How delicious would that be? If snow were just icing falling from the sky? It would be easy to convince them of because:

1. children are stupid
2. you could argue that's why ice is called ice, the words are related
3. children like sugar and will believe you out of pure hope that you're not lying...
4. ...which you are.

Anyway, this experiment wouldn't last very long because they would immediately try it and realize that no, it is not, in fact, icing, but you could try to keep it going by saying that it only tastes good to children who are not terrible, evil little children in the hopes that they would use it as motivation for the future to be awesome.

You could also convince them that the mounds of snow that they see around after the plows go by are really snow dragons lying in wait to eat them. I tried this on someone last night and she said it was all she could think about as she drove home last night, making it the scariest car ride of her life.

Yummy recipe

Hey team,
So I figure most (if not all) of the people who read this blog are young professionals. What do young professionals always need? Good ideas for dinners that are easy to make, nutritious, easy to clean up, and yummy! I found one such recipe recently and wanted to pass it along to you all.

It's for White Chicken Chili. The recipe comes from Bush's beans, but I've modified it a little bit. If you want to see the original recipe, just go to http://www.bushbeans.com/recipes/printRecipe.php?RecipeID=282.

My (very slightly) modified recipe is below:
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 can (4-ounces) chopped green chilies, drained (don't worry, this will not be too spicy)
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 cans (16 ounces each) Great Northern Beans (you don't need to drain these)
1 can (14.5 ounces) chicken broth (I recommend the reduced sodium kind because otherwise the dish leaves you pretty thirsty)
1 lb cooked chicken breast, cut into bite size pieces (I poached my chicken and it left it a little bit less tender than I'd like, you could bake or saute or grill, whatever you want)
Shredded Monterey Jack cheese (optional...I used cheddar and it was good)
Sour cream (optional)
Salsa (optional)

In large skillet, cook onion in oil for 4 minutes or until transparent. Add chilies, flour and cumin; cook and stir for 2 minutes. Add beans and chicken broth; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer for 10 minutes or until thickened. Add chicken; cook until hot. Garnish with cheese, sour cream and salsa, if desired.

It looks too watery at first but it thickens up quite a bit. I also had some red and yellow bell peppers on hand so I chopped them up and threw them in with the onion. I liked the additional veggie element, but I would have preferred them to give more crunch, so next time I will probably throw them in later in the process. Also, I had cherry tomatoes, so I sliced those up and put them on top of the chili fresh and it lent a really nice sweetness to the dish.

Enjoy!

Typo fun

A couple of things:

1. Last week I saw an e-mail where someone said "type-o." Do people say that? How did I not know that?
   
2. I just meant to type "eyeball" in a sentence (long story) and instead I mistakenly typed "yayball" and then started giggling to myself.
   

Some were born to sing the harmonies

So lately I have been listening to a lot of acapella/Glee soundtrack music. I've been wishing that there were a way to turn down the melody in a song and just listen to the harmony because I have always been jealous of people who could just naturally pick the harmony out of a song and sing that part instead of the melody.

Just as I was typing this I realized that I am essentially admitting to singing very seriously in the shower and/or car. Welp. See you later, any remaining personal cool factor.

Anyway, I was wondering if it says anything about me that I'd rather sing the harmony than the melody, and what exactly that is if it does. That I'm a super supportive person? That I'd rather let someone else have the spotlight? Maybe. More likely I'm just a showoff who wants to prove that I can do complicated things.

In the shower, or the car.

This just got worse.

Anyway, on a somewhat related note, it is SUPER fun to sing the harmony on "Don't Stop Believin'" and I must admit that I feel the lyrics that follow really speak to me personally and therefore usually warrant a fist-pump when I hear them (but not Jersey Shore style):

"some will win, some will lose
some were born to sing the blues (fist pump)
oh, the movie never ends
it goes on and on and on and on"

I live in a snow globe.

Also known as Columbus, Ohio.

My favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe

Hey friends,
So I have been on a quest for quite some time to find the Best Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe. (I want everyone to know that I'm blogging this while watching the Biggest Loser). I tried a NUMBER of different recipes - ones that led to crispy cookies, ones that led to really soft cookies, ones that led to cakey cookies, ones that left to chewy cookies. I tried recipes that involved corn syrup, I tried recipes that involved vinegar (the cakey ones, actually pretty good, just not my favorite...you can't taste the vinegar, don't worry).

Anyway, I finally found a recipe that I've been sticking with. One stipulation: the recipe has shortening in it instead of butter, so if that's not your thing, it might not be the cookie for you. You could always substitute butter for the shortening, but I happen to make it with shortening for 2 reasons:
1) I typically have shortening on hand for use in pie crusts (I make a pie crust that includes both butter and shortening)
2) You don't have to refrigerate shortening, which means that it's always at room temperature, which means that when you decide to make cookies, you don't have to wait for the fat to come to room temperature. Granted, you should still wait for the eggs to come to room temperature before you use them to ensure that all the ingredients blend together at their maximum potential, but you can get there quickly by just putting the eggs in a bowl of warm water - microwaving butter often leads to melted butter which is a bad sign for your cookies (they will turn out super flat)

I wanted to share that recipe with you here. I'll admit, my all time standard cookie is basically the Toll House cookie recipe, but I wanted to find something that tasted just a little bit different. I also really enjoy this recipe because it only uses brown sugar instead of a combination of brown and white sugars - which I enjoy because I heart brown sugar. This is where I ended up:

1 1/4 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
3/4 cup shortening
2 tablespoons milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 large egg
1 3/4 cups All Purpose Flour
1 teaspoon salt (I like to use an extra 1/8 tsp salt because I like salty cookies)
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup walnuts (optional, you could always use 2 cups total chocolate chips, or a different nut, or a mixture of different chocolates)


1. Preheat oven to 375°F. Combine brown sugar, shortening, milk and vanilla in large bowl. Beat at medium speed of electric mixer until light and fluffy. Beat egg into creamed mixture.

2. Combine dry ingredients (flour, salt and baking soda). Mix into creamed mixture until just blended. Stir in chocolate chips.

3. Drop rounded tablespoonfuls of dough 3-inches apart onto ungreased baking sheet.

4. Bake 8 to 10 minutes for chewy cookies, or 11 to 13 minutes for crisp cookies. Cool 2 minutes on baking sheet on a cooling rack. Remove cookies to rack to cool completely. I find that 10 minutes is the perfect time for my particular oven, but yours may be different. Don't be afraid to take the cookies out if they look done but they're still super soft, they'll firm up while they're cooling and become wonderfully chewy :-)

Enjoy!

Ode to size 11

I really like font size 11. I don't know why. I think it's the same reason I adored college ruled notebooks instead of wide ruled notebooks back in the day. It's a little bit different, not something you're really used to seeing. Font size 12 totally sucks, 10 is pretty cool, but 11, I think, is the best. It's the unsung hero of the font size world. I'm a fan.

You should check it out.

The Wii is back, and it's pissed

So when I bought my Wii, or lovingly adopted it from its previous owner, rather, I played with it ALL THE TIME. For a while, it got constant attention. Then I stopped playing it quite as much as I had been. And then, it kind of got put away. I got a really cute storage cube from Target and I used it to store all my Wiimotes and games while I wasn't using them.

Then, for Christmas, I got the Super Mario Bros Wii game, and it is SUPER FUN, so I started playing the Wii again, and it was quite happy to come out of storage, but I think it's kind of pissed that I ever put it in storage in the first place, and is now constantly demanding reassurance from me in the form of attention. Which may or may not be why I devoted hours of my time this past weekend to playing the Wii. I'm on level 7 out of 8. Pretty intense stuff.

Saturday night I even drove downtown to my friends' house to play the same game on THEIR Wii until 1 am. The great thing about this game is that you can all be playing simultaneously (up to 4 players) - and while you are supposed to be a team working towards the same goal, it is much more fun to terrorize each other while you're on the course -- ie, picking other characters up and throwing them off the course to their death, stealing their mushrooms, stealing their extra lives even when you have 20 and they have 5 (all behaviors developed and exhibited by my friend John, and then by myself and Paul in retaliation). My favorite, though, is when you're all riding on Yoshis (they even have a pink Yoshi now!) and one of you gets knocked off your Yoshi, the other people can PICK THAT PERSON UP IN YOSHI'S MOUTH and run off with him!! Paul and I played Yoshi catch with John's character for a while and it was hilarious. Especially because John had gotten knocked off the pink Yoshi which I then, naturally, stole from him.

Less hilarious, though, when I got knocked off my Yoshi and they did it to me.

This happened.

At some point I apparently became a housewife from the 50s.

No, you didn't miss anything - I'm not married, it's still 2010, and I live in a rented apartment, not even a house. But this morning, I got dressed and put on my pearls because why the hell not? along with a pink cardigan my Dad got me for Christmas. I went to the store and got groceries then came home to make Chex Mix and chili (unrelated, I just wanted both of them). I already took care of baking cookies earlier in the weekend. So I made the Chex Mix and the chili, then put them in Ziploc bags/Tupperware containers to store in the pantry or freeze (have I mentioned before how much I effing LOVE Tupperware?). I passed by the mirror in my entryway at one point and was startled to see that the transformation was complete...this is what I saw...pearls, cardigan, apron, the whole shebang.Who knew?

Pretty sure that doesn't work anymore.

So I was at home last week for the Christmas holiday and I was set to work in the kitchen making baked goods galore (I think I made 4 dozen Christmas cookies, a pan of chocolate chip cookie bars which were really good, I'll put the recipe below, and a gluten free cheesecake). I was looking for the baking powder and my mom supplied me with a tin that looked like she may have picked it up at the antique mall instead of the grocery store.

"What is this?" I asked her
"I thought you wanted Baking Powder" she answered
"I'm pretty sure this is older than I am," I said, looking around the tin for a "use by" date. I didn't find the use by date (because it was made before those were popular), but I did find the "packaged on" date. December 1976. Yep. The same age as my 33 year old sister.

The thing that I think is more impressive/disturbing than my mom being unable to use a small tin of baking powder in 33 YEARS is the fact that this tin has moved with her through 3 states (Illinois, Missouri, to Virginia) and at least 4 houses. Maybe 5. Think about that the next time you're moving and you need to decide what to keep and what to throw away...maybe the baking powder can stay behind. I'm pretty sure they're going to have baking powder at the grocery store in the town to which you're moving. I'm also pretty sure they're going to have it 33 years in the future.

That said, I am my mother's daughter, proven by the medicine I found from 2006 in my medicine basket yesterday...which has moved with me from Charlottesville, back to DC, then to my apartment in downtown Columbus, and finally out to my apartment in the 'burbs. Glass houses, stones, etc.

Oh, and for the recipe of these cookie bars -- they end up basically just tasting like soft cookie dough:
Cook Time: 30 minutes
Ingredients:
1/2 cup butter
1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs (about 8 crackers crushed up)
1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk
1 pkg (6 ounces) semisweet chocolate chips
1 can (3 1/2 ounces) flaked coconut, or about 1 1/3 cups (optional)
1 cup chopped pecans (optional)
Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350°.
Melt butter in a 13 x 9-inch baking pan. Sprinkle crumbs evenly over melted butter; press down to make a crust. Pour sweetened condensed milk evenly over crumbs. Top evenly with remaining ingredients; press down firmly. Bake 25 to 30 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool before cutting.

Quotes.

"When her friends began to get engaged, instead of feeling jealous or antsy to do the same, Celia realized something: there was a very real possibility that no one was coming to save her. She would have to make her own plan. If she wanted to someday leave her job and write books, then she'd have to write books to do it, not wait around for some hedge fund guy to finance her fantasies. When she felt ready to have kids, she wanted to have them, regardless of whether or not she had found lasting love.

It was hard for girls like Kayla and Sally to understand this -- Celia got the sense that they thought she was just putting on a brave face to mask her disappointment and fear of being alone. But what scared her far more than loneliness was the thought of waking up one day and realizing that she had attached herself to the wrong person, out of fear or pressure or God knows what. As a result, she had decided to view men as fun and nothing more, at least for now."
from Commencement

"There are kinds of human problems which really do seem, as our tidy expressions would have it, to "come to a head" and "demand to be dealt with." But there are also problems, often just as serious, which come to nothing that we can recognize or openly deal with. Some long-lived, insidious problems simply slip us off to one side of ourselves. Some gently rob us of just enough energy or faith so that days which once took place on a horizontal plane become an endless series of uphill slogs. And some -- like high water working year after year at the roots of a riverside tree -- quietly undercut our trust or our hope, our sense of place, or of humor, our ability to empathize, or to feel enthused, and we don't see impending danger, we don't feel the damage at all, till one day, to our amazement, we find ourselves crashing to the ground.

Peter had one of those kinds of problems."
from The Brothers K

Am I the only one...

...who thinks it's strange that dogs eat whatever is put in front of them, as if the entire world is their own gigantic food bowl? I just watched my dog stick her face into my carry-on bag until she found the one piece of popcorn that had fallen in there, and then proceed to eat the piece of popcorn without regard for whether or not it was in fact ok that she eat it. What is that about? Why do they do that? So selfish.

Just a theory

So I was sitting at my table at work today and this chick was like "Someone stole my lunch!"...someone had stolen her macaroni & cheese from the shared fridge at work. So I was thinking about what would compel a person to steal someone else's lunch without shame, and I thought of this...

What if you treated your children like a social experiment (seriously, what else are they good for?) and you raised them to believe that the fridge was a constantly regenerating source of food, and every time they opened the fridge, it would have food inside for them? Obviously, it would take a good amount of work to make them believe that, but if you could pull it off, I think the results could potentially be hilarious. They would eventually just go around eating other peoples' lunches from shared fridges with the belief that the fridge had provided that food for them. You would also have to tell them that the people who tried to convince them that this was NOT true were just trying to make a play for their food.

Heh. I can't wait to have children.

just some awesome lyrics

you wouldn't think inspiration would come from luda, would you?

good lyrics for a rainy friday at work:
"They say what goes up must come down but I ain't reached my cruising altitude
Take a look at what I did but can you imagine what I'm about to do?
The places I'm bout to go and the money I'm 'bout to see
Bill Gates some binoculars and said "Look out for me!""

happy weekend to you

Will this always feel like 25?

I was in Guatemala for the last 10 days. Last Friday, I went out in Antigua with everyone from the vendor I was working with. As we were driving home at 4 am, tearing down the narrow cobblestone streets, we were listening to a mix CD (possibly the best mix ever) with the windows down, the music up, and the wind whipping our faces. I know you all know what that feels like...one of those moments where the soundtrack in your life is exactly right.

Anyway, I'm listening to the mix again (I demanded to have a copy of it immediately) as I sit at my desk and I wonder now whether I will always feel 25 when I hear it, or if I will just feel happy. I think either sounds good.

hola de guatemala city

So here I am, sitting on the floor of a factory office in guatemala. I figured that it was about time I updated my blog, and since we are just sitting here I thought I would whip out the blackberry and blog away.

Not much has been going on. Life in columbus continues to march on. I have been talking to friends a lot about the concern that appears to be plauging people our age - we know what we don't want to be doing with our lives (which unfortunately appears to be exactly what we are doing at the moment), but we are no closer to understanding exactly what it is that we do want to do.

This itch never came along, for me at least, in college. After three years of getting away with the greatest hoax known to mankind, I did not think to myself that it was time to move on. I thought to myself that I should change my major to exploring ways to slow down time and continue the ride forever...what did I have then, did we have then, that evades us currently? The access to money that we didn't work to earn? Maybe. The ambiguous reassurance that there was still the barrier of time standing between us and real life?

Sometimes I think to myself that maybe happiness is all relative, that if I had a taste of shittier circumstances, maybe I would be happier with those I currently have. But is happiness valid when it is only felt relative to sadness, or does it have an absolute value? Occasionally I try to convince myself that it is the former, but I think I know in the depth of my bones that it is the latter. I know you can't appreciate the sweet without the sour, but does the inherent definition of those concepts rely wholly on the existence of their polar opposite? Is good really good without evil? I think it is.

So it may or may not have been a month since I've posted

Ok so I haven't been a good blogger, sorry, but this required posting.

I'm sitting at work, and a girl I work with just came around the corner and gave me a weird look, and I was like "What's that look for?" and she goes "I don't know why, but I just came around the corner and I thought you had cornrows."

hahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaa

Yeah, I watch the Bachelorette. What's it to you?

1. Has anyone else noticed that every edition of "The men tell all" or "The women tell all" is a "special edition"?
2. The boys from this season are awesome and Jillian does not deserve them
3. If she chooses Kipton over Ed, I am moving to Chicago and staking out Ed's apartment building or condo or house or where EVER he lives until he agrees to marry me. I don't care if he wears a mankini, I love him. The scenes tonight of him dancing drunkenly in the hotel were HILARIOUS.

all-american reject

I just went to Target at 8 pm on a Sunday night. As I walked in, the only other customer I saw was a man in his late 30s or early 40s wearing a comic book t-shirt, cargo shorts, and black leather sneakers. He was looking at a plastic walrus in the $1 section that I inexplicably wanted to steal from his hands and buy for myself.

I bought their last copy of the DVD set of Season 2 of Mad Men and a box of Cheerios, which I will now proceed to eat for dinner (the cereal, not the dvds).

When did I become such a gigantic loser? The outlook is bleak. Here's to a better tomorrow.

evil feesh.

an e-mail conversation:

me: i want chocolate.

my friend: i want fishes cuz they're so delicious

me: until you bite their heads off (referencing the commercial jingle)

my friend: even more delicious then (gross)

me: bec they're spurting goldfish blood. ewwwwwwwww.

my friend: delicious delicious blood. mmm fish vampirism.

my response:

t9Word fails at life, part deux, but this time funnier

I just texted someone and I meant to say "Is she cool?" but thanks to t9Word, what I really said was "Is the cool?" I noticed the error prior to it having been sent but I couldn't stop laughing long enough to cancel sending and fix it. It makes me laugh because I keep replaying it in my head with an accent...like, a person for whom English is their second language, meaning to ask if something is cool, and thinking the way to ask that is to ask if it is "the cool."

heh.

I am the cool.

Comma placement is paramount

Just received an e-mail from a business partner. He was sending some attachments that were late. I think what he meant to write was:

"Here they are, sorry for the inconvenience."

What he really wrote was:

"Here, they are sorry for the inconvenience."



I bet those attachments are sorry.
This cracked me up.

Wow

So I was heading to the basement of my building at work today in the elevator and I wasn't looking as I pressed the floor button, and incidently the "CALL FOR HELP" button is located just below the "B" button in this elevator.

Guess which one I pushed?

Yep.

Have I told you lately that I hate children?

Random Sunday musings:

1. Was at the library earlier and witnessed a little boy carrying his baby brother across the room by his neck. The baby's face carried a shocked expression as it turned an angry shade of red.
2. Another two young ladies were carrying on a conversation that was not in their "indoor voices" across the bank of computers provided by the library. I briefly considered asking them to kindly shut the hell up, but then one of the librarians took care of it for me.
3. All that said, off to watch a children's movie in the theater. I really wish they would have adults-only showings of children's movies. Hopefully, the midnight showing of Harry Potter I will be attending on Tuesday will not be attended by the wee ones...

STEVE HOLT!

if you don't know what this means, you should find out. you'll laugh.

Good for a laugh

ok so if you haven't already, pls check out www.textsfromlastnight.com. You will laugh. Guaranteed.

Also, I wanted to share this story. I can't recall now whether it was 5th or 6th grade, but it was one of the two, and it was the first-ish time we were allowed to have a co-ed birthday party. So we were all hanging out in my friend Chase's basement, playing spin the bottle, and his mom comes down the stairs and sees all of us sitting in a circle with a glass bottle in the middle and asks what's going on, and Chase goes "Uhhhh...I was just showing them my bottle collection."

You know, his collection.

Made up of one bottle.

Which we had to form a circle around and stare at from a distance of 3 feet.

Normal.

Hahahahahaha

So I didn't write a longer post this weekend...oops. But I figured this would make up for it, sent to me by one of my favorites:

I know I've been delinquent

Will try to write a longer post this wknd.

Anyway, just a couple of thoughts, linked by my immaturity and their general subject:

1. Another word I wish I used more often -- "balls." Not like, ya know, balls balls, but balls as an exclamation...like, "Oh, balls, I forgot to put the milk in the fridge." I understand that it refers to that type of balls when you use it that way, but it doesn't seem quite as unsavory.
2. I was trying to find a new font to type my e-mail in this morning and I came upon "Harvey Balls" and I giggled. Honestly, who names a font Harvey Balls and thinks it's a good idea?
3. UPDATE (from later in the same day): One of my pet peeves -- when people say words that have been adopted into the English language but have their origin in another language, and say them with the accent of their original language - ie mozzarella. Stop it. Annoying. Besides, didn't most words in the English language come from another language in the first place?

I feel the Santa Ana winds blowing

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Explore. Dream. Discover.”

- mark twain

I wanted to start an entry about my recent travels with an inspirational quote. Did it work for you? It worked for me.

I realized while blogging about books that I've been traveling a lot lately - mostly because I could only recall the books that I've read recently by thinking about flights I've been on. I went home for Mother's Day...and it was so nice to be home. Virginia is so green and rolling and beautiful...and then I came back to Ohio.

In Virginia, I am reminded of being a child. When I go back there, I not only go back home, but I also go back in time to a period when I was responsible for nothing. I'm sure at a certain point in my life I will look back on this period and think I was still responsible for nothing - but life feels heavier now. How's this for an uplifting blog entry? Maybe this is why I want to throw off the bowlines.

After Virginia came a couple of weeks in Columbus...On one of those weekends I had my first ever ride in a Porsche (Cayman S)...and then Memorial Day weekend in Vegas with friends (eeeeeeeeeeee!!). You wouldn't think it, but I love Vegas. Love it. I think Vegas is an adult playground in which any type of person can find their own tiny, perfect experience. I went with two of my best (guy) friends and we were basically irresponsible for almost 5 days straight. It was glorious. Sun, alcohol, gambling, and an excuse to wear cocktail dresses and ridiculous heels 3 nights straight? Yes, please. I randomly won $81 on our flight out to Vegas (thank you, Southwest) in a game played with the other passengers, and then won an additional $70 on a slot machine. I was quite excited. I met Elvis (or maybe one of his cousins) at a club called XS...where there were guys LEGITIMATELY MAKING IT RAIN. Like, totally gangster (gangsterrrrr) dudes just making. it. rain. It was so BA. Then one of my recent dreams came true and they played "Swing Ya Rag" by TI while I was in a club. I never really thought I would be that cool. Granted, I squealed like a little girl when it came on, but I still think it's valid. I'm cool. I go to clubs in Vegas. Whatever. Of course other ridiculous things happened in Vegas, but what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

So I came back from Vegas two weeks ago and then this weekend I went to Nashville with three friends...for no reason in particular, really, other than that the friends were going to a concert and it is one of their birthdays this week. So get this. We get to Nashville on Friday night and immediately begin drinking at the free happy hour provided by our hotel (Don't mind if I do, Embassy Suites). I was two drinks in when my best friend called me and tried to discuss something with me that involved decision making skills, and I responded with "I'm two drinks in at this point, you can't ask me these questions right now." We go out that night on Broadway - eat a bbq dinner (at Rippy's) where they serve corn pancakes alongside our meals. Corn pancakes. It was brilliant. We later figured out that we ate ONE MEAL in Nashville that was not accompanied by pancakes of some sort. Remind me again why I do not live there? To work off the bbq-coma, we went to Tootsie's and sang and stomped along with the live band(s).

Notes to self that I had forgotten since my college experience:

1) You love country music.

2) You love country men.

Later that night we were walking from one bar to another and we saw a bunch of horse-drawn carriages lined up on the street waiting for people to drive around. One of those horses had a dog standing on its back. Of course, my first reaction was "PUPPY!," but as I watched the dog, I noticed that it was tense and its legs were trembling slightly. I'm sure it did the trick all the time, and it worked, its driver got passengers before all the other drivers, but it looked nervous, and (please indulge me for a moment) I identified with the dog. It was performing for a moment, trying to make its owner happy, just waiting and remaining silent until it could jump back to the driver's seat and curl up comfortably. I felt like the dog because all I wanted to do was go home - but I was trying to appear to be having a good time because I didn't want to be Debbie Downer. My friends continued on to another bar but I went back to the hotel and got in bed with a book. Say what you want. I know I'm 25 and I turned down a night of continued drunkenness and partying in Nashville to hang out in a hotel room by myself, but I realized that I don't want to be like that dog. I'm the only one who can make myself happy. So I did.

The next day we went to the Pancake Pantry in the morning (let's be honest, afternoon) for brunch...delicioso. I can strongly recommend the chocolate chip pancakes. And the eggs. And the sausage. And the Diet Coke. Reminiscent of the Tavern in Charlottesville for all the other Wahoos reading this blog. We then strolled around area surrounding Vanderbilt, and I forced my friends to walk across Vanderbilt's campus until we arrived in the Greek area and I was able to take a picture in front of the XO house (I'll post it later, am lazy right now). We went back to the hotel and had a bit of a break after the sugar rush from Gigi's Cupcakes (across from our hotel on Broadway, if you're going to go I recommend the Wedding Cake cupcake and do not recommend the Root Beer or Red Velvet cupcakes) and then the boys and I went back out to Broadway while Kelly stayed in for a nap.

We were browsing in Hatch Show Print when the following life-defining moment happened:

(door jingles, a few men walk in, my back is turned to the door)

"Well...this isn't the guitar shop" (says a man in a British accent)

"Well then where do you think the guitar shop is?" (asks another man in a British accent)

(I turn around to inform the fellow tourists of the location of said guitar shop which I happened to pass one block away the night before and my heart LEAPS INTO MY THROAT because I have come FACE TO FACE with Chris mother-effing Martin. Chris Martin. Lead singer of Coldplay. Husband of Gwyneth Paltrow. Father to Apple and Moses. And the rest of the band but let's be honest I don't know their names. I begin hyperventilating and spin back around.)

"That. Is. Coldplay. I think that is Coldplay." (I say to my friend in between rapid breaths as I stand a little too close to him in an attempt to not let Coldplay HEAR that I was informing the very small shop of their presence) After leaving that friend in a state of shock similar to my own, I sidle up to the other friend who had come with me (again, getting inappropriately close) and tell him of their presence. I was speechless. I could not form words. I continued to breathe heavily, blush, and occasionally giggle nervously. Chris Martin is one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen in person. And surprisingly tall. Eventually, they left the store. Naturally, we followed them to the guitar shop where they were JAMMING. Wow. Wow. It took me roughly an hour to find my words.

During the same trip I also bought the "Bb" t-shirt from American Apparel (which I had been hunting for for a few months), so all in all, a success. Oh, and I trudged through the ghetto of Nashville (in cowboy boots) to find Jack White's recording studio - note to other tourists - closed on the wknds.

My friends went to the Coldplay concert that night, and while Coldplay IS the best band I've ever seen live, I decided to opt out of the concert and went to dinner with a sorority sister instead. We went to a restaurant called Demos' not far off the main drag of Broadway. Post-dinner, I went to a restaurant on Broadway called Merchant's to have dessert and a drink. I ended up sitting at the bar eating my cheesecake (crust better than the cake itself, if I went back I would order the chocolate chip bread pudding), drinking Pinot Grigio, and falling in love with the bartender Nate. We talked through three glasses of wine and I learned that Nate was an aspiring musician (drummer, inspired by Radiohead), originally from Vermont, 2nd oldest of 6 children, who has been living in Nashville for 3.5 years and likes bartending because the schedule is flexible. He's never been further west than Nashville but wants to visit Vegas and LA. And I love him. In an uncharacteristic move, I did NOT leave him my phone number...but I imagine that if I write a novel someday, he will be a character. Hell, maybe my life will turn out to be a Nicholas Sparks book and I will end up with him. Eeee.

Another person I met at that bar who will be a character? The guy who sat next to me and told me that he lives close to the Embassy Suites and frequently stops in to take advantage of their free breakfasts...and now will take advantage of their free happy hours since I gave him my extra room key. Pretty sure my friends are going to bring that one up for roughly 10 years. Yep, Bridget did something irrational and vaguely dangerous because she hates her life lately...shocking.

Yesterday we went to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum - in my opinion, not worth the $20 entry fee - and a "New York Diner" called Noshville - not worth the "best deli in Nashville" award it's received a few years running. Eh, I don't know, the avocado/tomato/monterey jack omelette certainly wasn't bad...and the potato pancakes were also good...but I do think I could have made it myself. Not overly impressive. Maybe I just didn't order the right thing. Points for the clever name, though.

I am currently blogging from home base in Cbus, but pack up again tomorrow and board a plane early Wednesday morning to spend the remainder of the week in Hilton Head. Send me warm weather and sunshine thoughts - for myself, my best friend, and two good friends who are marrying this weekend. Oh, and at some point, please remind me again how I became old enough to have friends getting married.

Cheers to you, friends, and the places the winds will take you.

Dear Chickpeas, I love you. Marry me?

They go by a couple of names: Chickpeas. Garbanzo Beans. They go in hummus. They go in falafel. They are glorious. 

I love to eat them plain in salads, but my new favorite thing to do is to get a can of garbanzo beans, rinse them in a little water, drain them, and put them in a frying pan with a tiny bit of olive oil and a few dashes of curry powder, cumin, garlic powder, and sea salt...I toss them up a few times over high heat...I like it when they get a little bit burnt. Anyway, once I take them off the heat I put them in a bowl and eat them like cereal (without the milk). I try to restrain myself from eating the entire can in one sitting, but frequently fail. 

Just thought I'd pass along the glory just in case anyone else wants to try them... :-) OH and if anyone else has any recipes they like to make with chickpeas, PLEASE let me know. 

Sometimes, I wanna get away someplace

Quotes from the books I've read recently:

"I absolutely plan on marrying a fraternity guy because their ability to pledge allegiance to something bigger than themselves in the name of commitment - even though it's sometimes guaranteed to suck - is the exact quality I want in a husband."

"Yet I'm not quite ready to make a change. I don't want to stay, but I can't leave because then I'd be admitting defeat. I spin my ring so much that Fletch finally places his hand over mine to stop me. 'That's your problem right there. You won't concede the game, yet you can't justify why you're playing it in the first place' " 

(above quotes from Pretty in Plaid by Jennifer Lancaster)

"Go ahead into life, full-blooded, courageous, and leap for the adventure. But you must do it soon - before the summer of your youth has cooled off into caution. You are magnificently charming - and you come like a torrent. But you will be spent on the futility of little things. You're not a watercolor. You are carved out of life - and there can be no petty hesitancies about you" 

"Growing up, I was utterly oblivious to the fact that Mom was teaching me all that. But I was instantly aware of her final lesson, which was hidden in her notes and letters. As I read them I began to understand that in the end you are the only one who can make yourself happy. More important, Mom showed me that it is never too late to find out how to do it." 

(above quotes from Not Becoming my Mother by Ruth Reichl) 

And in other news, listen to the Veronicas. I promise you will not be disappointed. 

Life ain't a track meet, it's a marathon

Work has kept me very busy since I moved back to my old department...resulting in a lack of posts. Work has also been crushing the creative part of my soul, but that's a story for another day. Anyway, a friend commented that I hadn't been posting, so I thought I'd shoot something out...because, as the title of this post says, life ain't a track meet, it's a marathon...so I've gotta find a way to keep doing the things that I enjoy (blogging) while busy with the things I don't always enjoy (maintaining gainful employment).

There are currently 4 crushed soda cans sitting on my desk. 3 Diet Cokes, 1 Coke Zero. They have been accumulating there over the course of 4 work days. You'd think that I'd walk them over to the recycling thing on one of my numerous daily trips to the water dispenser, but no. I think their presence calms me. They're like a little support group that congregates daily to cheer me on.

I FREQUENTLY attempt to use body language to communicate with people who cannot see me...for example: shrugging at my computer while writing an e-mail, nodding or shaking my head while on the phone...and I bet you do it too. Think about it for a day. You'll catch yourself doing it...trying to communicate something to people who cannot see, and therefore benefit from, your attempt - which leads me to this question:

When you're at Disney World posing for photos with the...

(pause for 5 minute discussion among people in my department about the word I'm about to use and whether or not it's the most appropriate)

...characters (mascots? what the hell are they called?) who are like, in a full on suit (head and all) - do you think they smile for the pictures inside their character heads?

I think they do.

Gooey butter cake = love

So I mentioned in yesterday's post that I would get to gooey cake in a later post - and I'll briefly get into it now.

Gooey Butter Cake (that is its full name...Gooey Cake or Gooey for short) is a treat that is popular in the Midwest - my family picked it up in St Louis. My mom made it for us when we were little but I didn't remember/pick it back up until college. I started making it for friends in college and continued on making it at my first job. I thought that people out here in Columbus would have heard of the greatness that is Gooey before I came around, but apparently it's really not all that widely known outside of St. Louis. Gooey butter cake tastes like nothing else. It's not like yellow cake, it's not like coffee cake. It's like happiness in cake form. It seriously just tastes like sweet butter. I wish I could describe it better...but you really have to taste it for yourself.

Given that the recipe is currently printed on the side of the Kroger brand cream cheese box, I'm not going to be shy about sharing the recipe...so pls see below:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees...pull out a 9" x 13" pan (no need to grease since there is so much butter in the cake)
Ingredients:
3 eggs
1 stick of butter (melted)
1 8 oz brick of cream cheese (softened)
1 box of butter cake mix (I recommend Duncan Hines)
1 lb of powdered sugar

Mix together melted butter, 1 egg, and cake mix. Once all of the cake mix is moistened, press into the bottom of the pan (I recommend turning out the dough, covering it with plastic wrap, and using your hands to press it uniformly into the pan - much easier than trying to use a spatula).

Mix together softened cream cheese, remaining 2 eggs, and 1 lb of powdered sugar (reserve a couple of tablespoons to sprinkle on top of the cake). The ingredients will form a thick liquid. Once all the ingredients are combined, pour over the top of the dough that has been pressed into the bottom of the pan.

Bake for 30-35 minutes, until top is golden brown and puffy. Sprinkle with reserved powdered sugar.

Devour, and/or fend off hoards of people with forks trying to steal your cake.

ANYWAY.

Today I brought a gooey cake to work for a friend's birthday. I saved a piece to the side for a friend on my desk, and while it was sitting there, a guy from my design team came over and was talking to me about some comments...the conversation went like this:

Brian: Ok so I think we're going to get out these (stops short and grabs my wrist in a vice) IS THAT GOOEY BUTTER CAKE?
Me: Ummm...yes? Do you like gooey cake?
Brian: SHUT UP. SHUT UP.
Me: Are you from St. Louis??
Brian: I'm from Springfield!!
Me: GO TO THE CONFERENCE ROOM RIGHT NOW AND GET SOME.

So Brian goes into the conference room and gets some gooey cake and bites into it and says "This tastes like childhood...and love." And then he turns to me and says "Don't you love it when you like someone a lot...and then something happens and you LOVE them?"

See?

Gooey = love.

It's been that kind of day

Just in case you haven't heard of this website yet...

http://www.fmylife.com/

Whenever you're feeling like maybe you're having the worst day EVER, check that website out. It may not make you any happier about YOUR life, but it will damn well make you happy you don't have THEIR lives.

I had about a 10 on the scale of 1-shitty day at work today (I'm not even going to get into it because my job is not my life...please remind me of that next time I am tempted to put my fist through a wall). After work I went to dinner with a very good friend (please slap me if I ever say fml about my friends because they are the best) and then ran to the grocery store to get the ingredients to make a gooey cake (we'll get to gooey cake in a later post). I came home and started making the gooey cake, promptly spilling powdered sugar all over my stovetop, shirt, shorts, and shoes. fml.

I then sat down on the couch to watch television and spilled water down my shirt. Not like, down the front of my shirt, which would have blown just enough on its own, but down the neck of my shirt and into my bra.

f.
m.
l.

Oh - and in case you were wondering - yes, I AM feeling stabby and screamy today (see below).

Words I wish I used more often - Vol 2

I just thought of some really good additions.

1. I wish I used the words "stabby" and "screamy" more. Pls reference Jenn Lancaster's blog (www.jennsylvania.com) to see how the words should be used - but in general it would be appropriate to say "I'm feeling stabby" or "I'm feeling screamy" if you were angry/sassy. This amuses me as I am always looking for new ways to convey my irritation to others.
2. I also wish I said "You shut your mouth" more. I really don't think that I ever will because it would be a clear ripoff of one of my friends (Kelly) and it is really only quite so funny coming out of her mouth given her generally carefree/chill demeanor. I'm not quite sure I could pull off carefree and chill as well as Kelly does...and the brilliance/humor of this phrase lies in the contradiction between personality and message.

Other random life updates:

Earlier this week my manager asked me to get a sample of something for her and I asked in response, "Does size matter?" Then I laughed and said "Isn't that the eternal question?" and ran away snickering to retrieve the sample.

I went to a concert last night and experienced one of those transcendent moments where you hope with all your heart that the memory will be burned into your mind forever - like it will be one of the scenes that flashes before your eyes in your last moments. It was a beautiful night in Columbus (you won't hear me say that often) - somewhere around 70 degrees. The Killers were playing and they closed on "All these things that I have done" - and at one point in the song they shot off white confetti into the crowd. Everyone was jumping up and down and dancing and just generally being insane and it was one of those moments that you imagine would be in slow motion if your life were a movie. Looking up into the sky you saw the stars mixed with the confetti, you saw the crowd going crazy, you saw the Killers rocking out onstage... and it was awesome. I distinctly thought to myself "This is what 25 is about."

In case you're wondering, 24 was about dancing like a crazy person to Girltalk onstage at the company holiday party.

You're gonna shoot who? (who?) Not even on your best day.

I'm watching SNL, and Tracy Morgan just said "Thailand. I wanted a place that was heavy on dogs and light on laws." I'm never going to be able to run my production in Thailand again without thinking of that quote. Hee.

I went to a party tonight, and there was a baby present. Not like, a tiny tiny gift, but rather a baby who was in attendance. So, again, it was brought to light just how good babies have it. They are the center of attention at all times. They do whatever they want. They roll around on the carpet and people bring them toys. They are allowed to cry for no particular reason. They get to wear footy pajamas and suck on pacifiers. So, what I want to know is this - we're adults. We run the world. Why do we let the babies get away with all the fun? Who decided that?

Also present at the party was my friend Brittany's parent's dog, Guinness. She is only 2 years old and is still wearing a shock collar in case she misbehaves. At one point in the night, she put her front paws on the kitchen table and tried to steal a brownie....a few minutes later Brittany came back into the room and said "It's ok. I shocked her then I put her in my bed."

That's what he said.

Love me, hate me, say what you want about me

I spent the morning and afternoon of this lovely Saturday doing a little spring cleaning. When I say morning, though, let's be honest...I mean the 30 minutes before noon that I was actually out of bed. Oops. Then again, whatever. I'm 25. I do what I want.

And apparently, what I want today is three loads of laundry along with cleaning my kitchen and bathroom and vacuuming my whole apartment (I do kind of love vacuuming but that's a separate story). Speaking of, why are there two u's in the word vacuum? I mean...is that really necessary?

So recently I must have pulled some obscure muscle in my back that is somehow connected to my leg...because whenever I bend at the waist it feels really tight. It's been going on for a few weeks but I've been generally ignoring it and hoping it goes away...but today as I was sorting laundry I bent over to pick something up and my back hurt. I mumbled (out loud, to myself in my empty apartment) "I'm not entirely sure what's going on back there, but it hurts."

Then, as is my reflex, I said "Heh. That's what she said."

Aloud. Alone.

I'm not quite sure whether to like myself more or less for that.

Oh and by the way I saw Britney Spears on Thursday night and I officially want to quit my job and pursue my new dream of BEING HER (without the babies and the crazy). When she came out of the ceiling dressed like a ring master, I screamed like a 10 year old girl. That girl is an icon. Say what you want about her (as she says in If You Seek Amy, the song that has caused plenty of controversy but which she performed nonetheless on Thursday night, to my UTTER DELIGHT), but she knows what game she's playing and she's the best one playing it.

This is the video played on stage before she came out to close with Womanizer. If this doesn't make you want to join me in my quest to be her, I don't know what will:

Running through the rain in men's pants

Random musings today:

1. My office is made up of numerous buildings, laid out like a college campus. I was walking to the cafeteria today (about a 3 minute walk), and as I left my building it was cloudy. By the time I arrived at the cafeteria, it was raining. So as I left the cafeteria to walk back to my building, I walked through another building to stay out of the ran as much as possible. I ran from one building to another through the rain, and then stopped for roughly 3 minutes to talk to a friend as I passed his desk. By the time I left his building, it was so sunny that I considered reaching up and pushing my sunglasses down from my hair to the bridge of my nose. Ah, Columbus weather. Within a roughly 20 minute span, we went from partly cloudy to drizzling (that's kind of a sweet word) to legitimate rain (like, dashing from building to building kind of rain) back to blinding sun. Cool.
2. I'm wearing really low slung jeans today. Technically they're just a size too big, but I'm wearing them across my hips with about a 1" dropped crotch, and as I walked back from the cafeteria, the jeans were inching themselves lower and lower, and I was like "I wonder if this is what men feel like all the time."