Who's a big girl??

Embarrassing admissions time.

I used to not be able to swallow pills. Not even the nice gel-coated ones. I would gag and either have to opt for chewables (does anyone else think Baby Tylenol is delicious? Just me?), or suck it up and hope the pain/illness would go away on its own. Actually, in a last-ditch effort my dad DID buy me the Pill Masher (as seen on TV). That bad boy would crush up just about anything, and then my parents would hide the remnants in a spoonful of yogurt or peanut butter or something. (Um, isn't that how you get DOGS to take pills. Whatever. It worked.)

It also might come as no surprise that I still went to my pediatrician until like age 24. (Shout-out, Dr. Sue Hubbard.) So embarrassing, sitting in the waiting room over a college break and having to pretend like my CHILD was in the bathroom, since that would be the only logical reason for someone in their 20s to be in that office...not sure who to blame this on. We'll go with my mother. :)

But I am now proud to say that I can swallow pills and see an adult doctor. What a big girl.

Why are the cutest things the most impractical. (And I'm not talking about boys)

Almost bought myself a car over Thanksgiving. And yes, this was before I got home to a dead battery in my current car. My stepmom's father is selling his 1986 little red Alfa Romeo that only has 61,000 miles on it. It is seriously about the cutest thing I've ever seen. Brown leather seats. Stick shift. Cassette player. (Hey - I've been looking for a way to play all my old mixed tapes...) Literally no back seat. It is tiny. And nearly impossible to get the top back up by myself. And my hair was a disastro. (Which is my random lingo for a disaster.) But did I mention how cute it was?? I could use it as my "tooling around town" car. Not that I ever really tool around town. But maybe that's because I didn't have a car for it. Regardless, I was too afraid of what might happen to it if I drove it back to Texas, so it remains in Florida. But oh the cuteness.

thankful

things i'm thankful for: post-thanksgiving weekend edition

1. that my dad is a frequent flier: free bags both ways, plus priority access (and extra leg room in the exit row!)

2. that it was a free hbo/showtime/cinemax/encore weekend. watched so. many. movies.

3. cornbread dressing. which i made myself, thankyouverymuch.

4. the muppets. the movie was just "meh," but damn i still love those little guys.

5. that i only have to make it three more weeks before another vacation.

win-win

i'm in the exit row for my flight to florida. and apparently that means i get to check a bag for free. score. so i guess in exchange for potentially saving countless lives, i get to save $20. sounds like a fair trade to me!

This is what it's come to, apparently.

My grandmother and my mom are staying with me for a few days (in a one-bedroom apartment - good times), and the other night Nana was telling me she had a guy for me to meet. I started getting excited, since I'll be visiting them for Christmas in Colorado - hell-oooo, set-up! But my mom whispered, "he is imaginary." Well of course he is.

So apparently my love life is so pathetic that my poor 87-year-old grandmother has had to resort to creating a FICTIONAL man for me. But it doesn't stop there - she has put a lot of thought into this. Some highlights of "Steve Make-believe":

He went to UNC. But he was a senior when I was a freshman, so I didn't know him in school. (Convenient, Nana.)

He is a pediatrician, specializing in asthma. (?)

We will eventually marry and have twin boys. (This could actually happen, since I will be so old I'll be all hopped up on fertility drugs and will probably pop out multiples.)

So there you have it, folks. If anyone knows this guy, let me know. Nana wants me to meet him.

This site is hilarious.

http://fiverr.com/

It's people posting what they will do for $5. Everything from pretending to be an ex on social media sites for a week (?) to making a tough decision for you to my personal favorite, having someone dance for two minutes to a song of my choice while wearing a hot dog costume. For $5.

Thank you, Nincy, for bringing this into my life. I'll pay you $5 for it.

Doesn't bode well for my romantic future on reality television

Ali and Roberto of Bachelorette "fame" have broken up. It's almost as if finding love on television doesn't WORK! (Gasp)

And side bar: I'm forcing my mom and grandmother to watch Tough Love tonight so they can see what I'm walking into. Should be interesting. Or tragic.

A love letter. (To TJ Maxx.)

I think I have mentioned that I am something of a label whore. And most of those labels are entirely out my price range. Which is why TJ Maxx's designer department seriously rocks my world. I went in there on Saturday with noble intentions (to buy Christmas gifts for my family), and left with a LAMB top and a Catherine Malandrino dress. For WAY cheaper. In fact, the bigger the sale, the more I want it. Even if it doesn't really look very good. Just to be able to tell people "this USED to be $450. But I paid $69!" Ahhhhh.

(And yes, I bought the gifts for my fam as well. It was a win-win.)

Say hello to my little friend

So last night I was randomly pouring powdered sugar into a bowl. (Yep, super domestic.) Moving things around, a container fell into the sugar bowl, causing a huge snowstorm of powdered sugar that literally made the biggest mess I have ever seen. I cussed for a good five minutes and then tried to figure out how the hell to clean it up. At which point of course my phone rang to tell me that the elliptical repairman was on his way. Perfect. I'm on my hands and knees on the floor, surrounded by what looks like cocaine. A very Tony Montana, Scarface moment.

And P.S. - spraying 409 on spilled sugar doesn't really help. Instead it creates a hardened, sticky substance that honestly took 30 minutes to clean. And this is why I don't bake. Period.

Read em and weep. Literally.

A friend told me about this book, "The Tao of Dating." We decided it could be a beneficial read (hell, I need all the help I can get at this point), so she bought it. Plus something called "The Art of Seduction." Once I buy "When Men Love Bitches" (which IS the actual title), I think we'll be all set to kick off the saddest little book club ever. With wine of course.

Party planning

Planning the office holiday party is stressful, but DOES come with some perks. What girl doesn't like a little wining and dining? Recent excursions include:

1. Free food, bowling and games at Main Event. This was back in September and the fact that they had their Christmas decorations out and carols playing was a little trippy, but fun.

2. Free tour of the Arboretum.

3. Today, free food, margaritas and possible chair massages (although that sounds a little sketchy) at Love and War in Texas.

4. And tomorrow, free food at House of Blues.

A girl could get used to this. Of course, I have to actually PLAN something here eventually, but we've got until January...until then, more free drinks please!

Spanx for the memories

I have always avoided Spanx - they don't seem comfortable AT ALL, and I've kind of considered them to be cheating. I mean, if I can't zip up that dress on my own, why should some magic bike shorts allow me to? That's what diets (or in my case, larger sizes) are for.

But that all changed a few weeks ago, when I wore the one pair of knock-off Spanx that I own under a dress to an event - um, yes please. Amazeballs. And now I'm semi-obsessed. I want the reversible tights. I want the leggings. Maybe they make jeggings?

Guilt be gone. I'll have an extra helping of dressing at Thanksgiving - because I'll be giving thanks for Spanx.

NOT a sing-along

There are a few songs I absolutely can't stand. I literally moan when they come on the radio before I promptly change the station. (And yes, I am so old-school that I still listen to the radio, not Sirius or XM or whatever the hell the kids call it these days.)

These deal-breaker ditties include:

"Smooth" by Santana/Rob Thomas. Uggggggh.

"Yeah" by Usher/Lil John/Ludacris. Seriously? The lyrics are basically "yeah. yeah. yeah. yeah. yeah." Even I could come up with that.

(Or maybe it's more that I hate collaborations?)

Pretty much anything by J.Lo. Or the Biebs. Sorry.

"Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus. "Nodding my head like yeah" is not a thing.

That's it for now. I'm sure there are many, many more.

You can tell a lot about a person by the pajamas they wear

Fire alarm went off in my building at 2:45 am Sunday morning. Wasn't just a drill - the fire department actually came - but it still meant about an hour of standing outside with a bunch of strangers - er,neighbors, the majority of us in our pj's. And it was quite a motley crew:


Hot dude with bedhead and plaid pj pants, leading one of his two adorable dogs down the stairs. (Accompanied by his live-in girlfriend, leading the other dog, in a t-shirt, shorts, and - this was the interesting part to me - patent leather wedge heels. Perhaps they were closest to the door?)


Older lady in a nice pj pants ensemble complete with silk robe.


Couple in jeans with a pizza that had just been delivered - who obviously had just gotten home.

Bunch of drunk groomsmen in matching vests and suits.


And then of course moi, in a sad little blue t-shirt with Cookie Monster's face on it and blue sweatpants. Oh, and tennis shoes. STYLIN'.

UPDATE: Fire alarm went off again at 2:45 am this morning. I think I upped the ante by wearing BLACK sweatpants and a "Frankie Says Relax" t-shirt. Yep, that happened.

Move over, Omarosa

...there's a potential new reality star in town. Okay, putting the cart WAY before the horse here, but there's a miniscule chance I could be on the next season of Tough Love on vh1. Which is a great show, btw. And it's really not a compliment that I might get cast. It's not like I'm super pretty or funny or interesting. No - it really means my love life is a disaster and a bunch of complete strangers think I need professional help (and that the nation needs to watch).

And yes, the more I think about it, the more nervous this whole idea sounds. But I won't hear anything until mid-January anyway, so no need to freak myself out just yet. Plenty of time for that when the cameras are rolling.

Scariest 30 seconds of my life

The Zoo party last weekend was actually super fun - plus I saw penguins and elephants, so that's ALWAYS a good Saturday night. But during the live auction, I had a momentary stroke when my dear co-worker, as a "joke," decided to raise my auction number for a $9,000 bid on two Centre Court tickets to the men's final at Wimbledon next year (plus two tickets to London, blah blah). I swear to you, those 30 seconds before someone bid $9,500 (which, let's be honest, was probably more like 5 seconds) were the most terrifying seconds ever. The company bigwigs at our table were all impressed, like "Wow! You're going for it?!" And I was trying not to let them see the perspiration on my upper lip. Like I have $9,000. Dear god.

And side bar: why is it that whenever I'm at a live auction (which, let's be honest again, isn't that often), I get an overwhelming desire to scratch my head. But I'm terrified to move my arms for fear that they'll think I'm bidding for something. So I just sit on my damn hands until the auction is over. Everyone is safer that way.

How about a take two??

ESPN is supporting the troops this week in honor of Veteran's Day (awesome) - and this morning I saw a promo featuring Dwight Howard thanking the troops. He said: "Thank you all for supporting us. And...(awkward pause) for supporting our country." Um. Unfortunate. Who was that first "us" referring to, if not our country?? The NBA? Sigh.

Let's do it for our country

...what a great Grease 2 song. Every time I watch it, I wonder - is Michelle Pfeiffer mortified that she was in this film. Although being a Pink Lady is never mortifying. But the title of this post is sadly not about Rydell High.

It's about the awesomeness that is the Carrier Classic: UNC v Michigan State, on Friday, Veteran's Day, on the deck of a freaking aircraft carrier, airing on ESPN. Set your DVRs.

We even have these sweet camo uniforms to wear:

And oh yeah - the freaking PRESIDENT will be there. Not of the college. Of the country.

(Side bar: he BETTER be a Tar Heel fan.) My only fear is that in the heat of (basketball) battle, someone will shove someone else right over the side of the ship, but then I think about all the hot military men who will be in the audience, and I settle back down.

Don't think it's a coincidence that USA and UNC have the same number of letters and both start with the letter "U." And now I sound like I'm on Sesame Street. So be it. And GO HEELS.

What does a girl have to do to get an elf these days??

The holiday season looms, and with my first Christmas in my new apartment rapidly approaching, I was thinking this could be the year I get a real tree. A BIG real tree. I've usually gone with two small fake trees, but in keeping with yesterday's "go big or go home" theme...

HOWEVER. Christmas isn't really the best holiday for a single person. I began to picture the scene: wandering around the Home Depot christmas tree lot by myself, touching various branches and pretending that I can tell the difference between a fir and a spruce. Sweet-talking some poor sap (whilst probably COVERED in sap) to tie the tree to my roof. Carefully pulling into the parking garage at my apartment complex to realize that I've left my scissors upstairs. Coming back down and untying the tree and realizing there is no way in HELL I can carry the thing myself, much less shove it into the bizarro christmas tree stand and make it nice and straight. (You should see the paintings I hung on the wall, thinking they were straight...) And then of course there's somehow putting the lights on it. Which I used to watch my parents do as a child, and there would always be cursing. And that was a TWO-person job. Add in the constant shedding of needles and the nightmare of taking the tree back down after the holidays, and I am getting very "Bah Humbug" about the whole situation.

That's the beauty of the pre-lit fake tree from Walmart. It's a single gal's holiday wish come true. Thanks, Santa.

Are your pants on fire? Because your ass is HOT.

Sadly, no one has ever hit me with that pick-up line (which I just made up, thankyouverymuch). But I AM wearing some fire engine red pants today. Yowza these pups are bright. En fuego, if you will. But it's a cloudy Monday, so why not. Go big or go home, I always say - even when dealing with pants.

Just doing the math

Three of my friends have had babies this week, with one more to come any day now (shout-out, KO). This morning I realized that exactly nine months ago was the infamous winter storm in Dallas that had everyone iced in for four or five days. Coincidence? I think not...



Regardless, I have to give everyone props for finding something to do to break the boredom. :)

The two most hated words in the English language (for single girls)

"And guest." (Also see: "plus one.") I have to go to this big party at the zoo (!) Saturday night with work peeps, and of course was invited to bring a date. (cue crickets chirping)

I seriously have no one. Obviously not dating anyone, and I refuse to ask someone I barely know, simply because I don't even know these work people very well and that would just lead to awkward silences and probably too many free drinks. Which then leads to Sarah losing her job. (I feel the same way about inviting a random dude to a wedding, which explains the sad yet impressive statistic that in my 34 years on earth I have never taken a date to a wedding. Not ever. )

Wouldn't even really want to make a guy friend have to go, either - although it's an awesome band and the top 25 chefs in Dallas are doing the food, so I'm sure it will be semi-fun...So that of course leaves the trusty "gal pal." Which is STILL weird because technically we'll be sitting with and hanging out with work folks and therefore I probably shouldn't bust out my best robot on the dance floor. So after asking around, I have opted for my sweet co-worker. At least she knows these people too...

Of course, I bitch about trying to find the elusive "plus one" - but it's equally painful when you're NOT "and guested" - I mean, WHAT. You don't think I could FIND a date?? (I mean, I couldn't. But you shouldn't assume. :) )

We want some mo'

Movember, that is. Lots of dudes in the office are participating in this mustache-growing, prostate-cancer-awareness-generating machine known as Movember. And I want in. The waxing ladies at my nail salon will have you believe I already DO have a mustache (I beg to differ), but in solidarity, I think I will take it a step further - and add a beard and maybe some mutton chops. We'll see how it goes. (And grows.)

And yes, totally copying my bro's mo below, yo. (I like to rhyme.)

Totally Kalled it.

The torrid love affair that was Kim and Kris is now kaput. (Yay for "k" words!) 72 days?! You couldn't have stuck it out for a more impressive 90? That's at least how long I had to work to get health insurance...

But thank god their wedding was free - that would be an unfortunate waste of $10 million. And three wedding dresses. And four hours of my time, watching the damn spectacle on TV. Here's hoping E! will put together a five-hour special documenting the divorce. Ooh - and a Lifetime TV Movie! I can see it now: "Krazytown: The Kim and Kris Story."