Let's be drama-free for an evening (yeah, right!).
Today I was inspired upon leaving school to go to Whole Foods Market. Flowers were blooming and there were huge oranges on sale, with cut-up slices for shoppers to taste. At first, I didn't want to try one (swine flu and all...what? That's what I honestly thought for a split second. Lame, I know), but I'm glad I did because they were quite succulent. I meant to sneak another one but I forgot.
Anyway, I went in for a mango. One mango. I came out with peach Tazo tea, potato chips, and this stuff called some Almond Glow Jasmine Skin Lotion, which is actually more like oil. I'm about to hop in the shower and try it, to see if I can jump on the "green" beauty train.
Omg, I forgot. I had business to take care of at school today which called for "business professional" which I am quite good at, so I pulled out this button-down I'd actually never worn before. 'Twas kinda tight but I figured it would loosen up before I left the house. Um, no ma'am. I leaned down to put my shoe on, and a button popped off! I blamed it on the cheapness of the shirt and kept it moving. Before long, all of my subsequent movements send a button flying through the air! It was actually humbling. And by humbling I mean vaguely mortifying, cartoonish shenanigans. Missing half the buttons on Shirt #1 yet determined to keep my original aesthetic, I dug in the closet and found the same shirt in a different color. I put it on and walked towards the mirror...and a button popped off. This time I didn't wait, and pulled out Shirt #3, a last, last, last manuever. Or so I thought. THIS stupid shirt must have been in my room all day, observing and chuckling, because it was missing a button BEFORE I put it on, which I found out seconds later. I was so, so over it.
A slinky leopard-print blouse saved my life and my sanity. Leopard is just that mighty.
Showing posts with label saving the world. Show all posts
Showing posts with label saving the world. Show all posts
Monday, May 4, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Domesticity Remixed
Another double-post. You lucky devils!
After my trip home, my mom guilted me into eating better (and rightfully so) while at school, so lately I've been putting up a valiant effort. No McDonald's (even though I am absolutely craving a Big and Tasty with a large fry and chocolate shake), and I went grocery shopping for substance so I could cook. Which I did today!
To satisfy my craving, I made hamburgers for the first time.
I effing love Kroger's to death. I felt like such a suburban housewife strolling cutely through the aisles gathering ingredients for the night's dinner. Even though my mom, who actually is a suburban (working) wife, would be like bish plzz it ain't fun and games when you have to bulk shop for a family of five picky eaters, I myself enjoy grocery shopping. I'll go in for a set list and come out with DVDs and makeup too, like I did today. And ohmygod, shopping at those warehouse stores called like "National Wholesalers" or "Liquidators Etc" sets my heart ablaze with happiness. Also, the Kroger's near my house is open 24 hours. Which means I happily do my shopping at 2am.
Even though most people my age (including myself) are delightfully liberal, I think there's something fulfilling about eventually becoming a suburbanite. Maybe because I spent a huge chunk of my life in the 'burbs. After a life of moving, shaking, and changing the world, a part of me really can't wait to drive a caravan of kids to basketball games and dance classes.
Well, really, I can't wait for a Saturday where I throw on a hoodie and flip-flops, kiss my sexy husband goodbye and herd our funny, messy kids (but not the family dog) into my shiny Escalade that blares (by then, old-school) Fall Out Boy, Usher, and Amy Winehouse.
Suburbia, Lucky-style. And by then, surely I'll have learned to cook. Maybe.
After my trip home, my mom guilted me into eating better (and rightfully so) while at school, so lately I've been putting up a valiant effort. No McDonald's (even though I am absolutely craving a Big and Tasty with a large fry and chocolate shake), and I went grocery shopping for substance so I could cook. Which I did today!
To satisfy my craving, I made hamburgers for the first time.
I effing love Kroger's to death. I felt like such a suburban housewife strolling cutely through the aisles gathering ingredients for the night's dinner. Even though my mom, who actually is a suburban (working) wife, would be like bish plzz it ain't fun and games when you have to bulk shop for a family of five picky eaters, I myself enjoy grocery shopping. I'll go in for a set list and come out with DVDs and makeup too, like I did today. And ohmygod, shopping at those warehouse stores called like "National Wholesalers" or "Liquidators Etc" sets my heart ablaze with happiness. Also, the Kroger's near my house is open 24 hours. Which means I happily do my shopping at 2am.
Even though most people my age (including myself) are delightfully liberal, I think there's something fulfilling about eventually becoming a suburbanite. Maybe because I spent a huge chunk of my life in the 'burbs. After a life of moving, shaking, and changing the world, a part of me really can't wait to drive a caravan of kids to basketball games and dance classes.
Well, really, I can't wait for a Saturday where I throw on a hoodie and flip-flops, kiss my sexy husband goodbye and herd our funny, messy kids (but not the family dog) into my shiny Escalade that blares (by then, old-school) Fall Out Boy, Usher, and Amy Winehouse.
Suburbia, Lucky-style. And by then, surely I'll have learned to cook. Maybe.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Next Up: Getting My Obama T-Shirt
Whew. That was a hectic few days. A lot of tears were almost-shed. Ok, I'm lie-telling. When the First Couple danced I cried a little. It's that black love...
My dumb ass missed the actual swearing-in: I was asleep, but I woke up in the middle of his speech and STILL got goosebumps. Then, later on at work, I youtubed the oath (*cringes at the awkward mess-up*) and watched a live-feed of the ball.
Ponder: there are big-screen TVs EVERYWHERE at work, yet I still had to watch the festivities on the internet during halftime of the game I was supposed to be watching. While getting furtive glances from my melanin-deprived co-workers. I was semi-loud, too, saying stuff like, "Ooh, look at Michelle's dress!" and "Aww, they're dancing" and "Omg Sasha and Malia are too CUTE." In my head I was thinking, "I DARE any of you to say something. NOT today."
Plus I had on my "Super Obama" pin.
Of course there are still some racist people out there saying dumb things, but that still doesn't change the fact that he's EVERYONE'S president...Obama is the, if I may be so bold, HBIC, and there ain't nothing y'all can do about it.
I can't help but feeling a crazy amount of pride about being black. For the longest time, a black president was this faraway, "someday" notion--a someday that no one but the most idealistic among us could see. It was the last threshold across which a black person could not or had not step. And I think it gave some people security: "Whew, black people are coming up, but we've still got the presidency." Well, not anymore. We are LEGIT, dammit. Too legit, in fact, to quit.
In terms of race, things are clearly nowhere near perfect. But all this, I think, allows for discussions about race to be had that white people/the majority never had to have before, which can only be a good thing. Where we could once push race under the rug, it is now front and center, unavoidable because the highest power in the free world belongs to a man with brown skin (like me!). Hopefully these developments will not only cast black people in a better light and change perceptions of us, but open the door for thoughtful discussions about race in which there is no right or wrong, no "why do black people do this or that" but honest dialogue.
My dad has an old, yellowed newspaper in the basement from the day Nelson Mandela was released from prison. Today I bought one of Barack Hussein Obama being sworn in as the first black president of the United States.
Welcome to the White House, Mr. President. We've been waiting for you.
My dumb ass missed the actual swearing-in: I was asleep, but I woke up in the middle of his speech and STILL got goosebumps. Then, later on at work, I youtubed the oath (*cringes at the awkward mess-up*) and watched a live-feed of the ball.
Ponder: there are big-screen TVs EVERYWHERE at work, yet I still had to watch the festivities on the internet during halftime of the game I was supposed to be watching. While getting furtive glances from my melanin-deprived co-workers. I was semi-loud, too, saying stuff like, "Ooh, look at Michelle's dress!" and "Aww, they're dancing" and "Omg Sasha and Malia are too CUTE." In my head I was thinking, "I DARE any of you to say something. NOT today."
Plus I had on my "Super Obama" pin.
Of course there are still some racist people out there saying dumb things, but that still doesn't change the fact that he's EVERYONE'S president...Obama is the, if I may be so bold, HBIC, and there ain't nothing y'all can do about it.
I can't help but feeling a crazy amount of pride about being black. For the longest time, a black president was this faraway, "someday" notion--a someday that no one but the most idealistic among us could see. It was the last threshold across which a black person could not or had not step. And I think it gave some people security: "Whew, black people are coming up, but we've still got the presidency." Well, not anymore. We are LEGIT, dammit. Too legit, in fact, to quit.
In terms of race, things are clearly nowhere near perfect. But all this, I think, allows for discussions about race to be had that white people/the majority never had to have before, which can only be a good thing. Where we could once push race under the rug, it is now front and center, unavoidable because the highest power in the free world belongs to a man with brown skin (like me!). Hopefully these developments will not only cast black people in a better light and change perceptions of us, but open the door for thoughtful discussions about race in which there is no right or wrong, no "why do black people do this or that" but honest dialogue.
My dad has an old, yellowed newspaper in the basement from the day Nelson Mandela was released from prison. Today I bought one of Barack Hussein Obama being sworn in as the first black president of the United States.
Welcome to the White House, Mr. President. We've been waiting for you.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Redirecting My Energy
You know how people always say about our time on Earth things like "if we're not looking for The One what are we really doing?"
I'm starting to think that's bullshit.
Love can't be all there is. It just can't be. Well, let me rephrase that. I think we think there's only one kind of love that we should be looking for: the kind that makes people get married and whatnot. What's would be more or just as efficient is a more philanthropic love, of which community service and paving the way for others is borne. I think if we spent half the time and effort we spend trying to get and maintain a relationship into bettering this place for generations to come, many of the world's major problems would be closer to being solved. And that stuff about "success means nothing without someone to share it with"? For me at least, I'd sleep well at night knowing that I'm positively impacting some part of the world in a big way, whether I'm sleeping alone or not. That, to me, is what made Mother Teresa and Ghandi and Queen Elizabeth so great: their love for mankind was bigger than the love for a man (or woman).
I'm only human, though. I'm thinking about going in to work on Valentine's Day just so I don't have to be around happy couples and whatnot. Of course I get lonely like everybody else. Many/most people turn to drugs, meaningless sex, or bad relationships to fill that void. I don't (for one thing I choose liquor--ha!). But seriously, though, what keeps me sane during those sometimes lonely nights is the thought that, after all, love isn't all there is.
And when that doesn't work, there's always Cheetos and Dog the Bounty Hunter.
I'm starting to think that's bullshit.
Love can't be all there is. It just can't be. Well, let me rephrase that. I think we think there's only one kind of love that we should be looking for: the kind that makes people get married and whatnot. What's would be more or just as efficient is a more philanthropic love, of which community service and paving the way for others is borne. I think if we spent half the time and effort we spend trying to get and maintain a relationship into bettering this place for generations to come, many of the world's major problems would be closer to being solved. And that stuff about "success means nothing without someone to share it with"? For me at least, I'd sleep well at night knowing that I'm positively impacting some part of the world in a big way, whether I'm sleeping alone or not. That, to me, is what made Mother Teresa and Ghandi and Queen Elizabeth so great: their love for mankind was bigger than the love for a man (or woman).
I'm only human, though. I'm thinking about going in to work on Valentine's Day just so I don't have to be around happy couples and whatnot. Of course I get lonely like everybody else. Many/most people turn to drugs, meaningless sex, or bad relationships to fill that void. I don't (for one thing I choose liquor--ha!). But seriously, though, what keeps me sane during those sometimes lonely nights is the thought that, after all, love isn't all there is.
And when that doesn't work, there's always Cheetos and Dog the Bounty Hunter.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Don't Know About Yours, But My President is Black
I am fighting back tears, been fighting them since last night. Last night, when Barack Obama became the first black president of the United States of America. God, I lurrrve him. God, I'm so happy. God, I can't believe this. God, thank you so much.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
I Date Above the Mason-Dixie Line, Thanks
Dear God. I feel like I have the mother of coke-bloats. I think my hectic schedule is starting to take a toll on my body, because I haven't been feeling too hot in the past few days. And by that I mean I woke up last night feverish with a headache and stomach pains. I was up a whole HOUR before I had to be awake because it hurt too much to lay down. That should just not happen. Urgh. I'm exhausted.
Thank goodness: a bunch of frat boys registered me to vote last week, and I got my voter's registration card in the mail the other day. One less thing I have to stress over. Hur-rah.
Bet: I wonder if I can find a boy by Thanksgiving? Talking it over with Motown Lover this afternoon about my staying in Southern State for Turkey Day instead of going home led me to place a hedge bet with myself.
"Maybe you'll yourself somebody and y'all can have some turkey. And dressing," he said, voice dripping comically with innuendo.
Eh, we'll see. It's all for fun, not a big deal (smirk). After all, I "had" (and I use that term very, very loosely) somebody last Easter and it was whatever.
At Paper Meeting today, Sports Editor took it upon himself to tease me about, oh, I dunno, everything. During practically the entire meeting we flipped each other the bird, whispered obscenities, and drew signs of the all capital letters on notebook paper variety. He was especially perturbed when I informed him of my "no dating Southerners" rule. A rule that I strongly abide by but he thinks is, in defense of his home region (he's from North Carolina), batshit insane:
Me: "I mean it. I'm over Southern boys."
Him: "You shouldn't take it out on all Southern boys just because the last one you talked to--"
Me: "The last THREE I talked to."
That, in my opinion, says it all.
Thank goodness: a bunch of frat boys registered me to vote last week, and I got my voter's registration card in the mail the other day. One less thing I have to stress over. Hur-rah.
Bet: I wonder if I can find a boy by Thanksgiving? Talking it over with Motown Lover this afternoon about my staying in Southern State for Turkey Day instead of going home led me to place a hedge bet with myself.
"Maybe you'll yourself somebody and y'all can have some turkey. And dressing," he said, voice dripping comically with innuendo.
Eh, we'll see. It's all for fun, not a big deal (smirk). After all, I "had" (and I use that term very, very loosely) somebody last Easter and it was whatever.
At Paper Meeting today, Sports Editor took it upon himself to tease me about, oh, I dunno, everything. During practically the entire meeting we flipped each other the bird, whispered obscenities, and drew signs of the all capital letters on notebook paper variety. He was especially perturbed when I informed him of my "no dating Southerners" rule. A rule that I strongly abide by but he thinks is, in defense of his home region (he's from North Carolina), batshit insane:
Me: "I mean it. I'm over Southern boys."
Him: "You shouldn't take it out on all Southern boys just because the last one you talked to--"
Me: "The last THREE I talked to."
That, in my opinion, says it all.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Responsible Citizenry 101
I am in a bit of a pickle. A pickle that is a direct result of my own procrastination but that I really do need help in figuring out. It has to do with VOTING so you know it is serious and not just a garden-variety Lucky shenanigan. Although if you are hungering for one, I am slightly freaking out because of a diabolical hair-streaking mishap. But that is a story for another time.
Anyway, here is the situation. Don't be mad at me, but I have not yet registered to vote. Partly because of my own laziness and partly because the voting process confuses me. See, I want to register in Home State. But, during the election, I will be in Southern State. Why, you may ask, can't I just use an absentee ballot? That is a good question and I am glad that you are thinking ahead, but if I understand the law correctly (and there's a good chance I may not, so someone please correct me if necessary), it states that your first time voting must be done in the precinct in which you are registered.
It also doesn't help that I am leaving for Southern State in the wee hours of the morning so there isn't terribly much I can do in person unless my mom takes the reigns in my absence. So what do I do? Do I just bite the bullet and register in Southern State, even though I will only reside there for two more years? Register in Home State, defy the system and vote in Southern State with my absentee ballot when time comes? Register in Home State, show up in earnest, and use a provisional ballot? Anyone? Anyone at all? Please, some grownup who is smarter than me, give me a game plan.
Before this, I used to look down upon people who weren't registered to vote. My tender, naive sensibilities thought that only lazy, uninformed drones couldn't bother themselves to change the world, make a difference, and let their voices be heard! No more. I am still an idealistic hippie which is why I'm still trying to figure this out, but this shit is confusing. I guess I can understand why a lesser being would throw in the towel. It's not right, but it's okay.
Despite that, I think everyone who possibly can should try their best and register, especially us young and able-bodied folks. Because not only is this a historical election and I probably be rendered unworthy of a Black card if I don't vote, but also I because I really, really want to wear an "Obama is my Homeboy" t-shirt without feeling like a total sham and phony.
Anyway, here is the situation. Don't be mad at me, but I have not yet registered to vote. Partly because of my own laziness and partly because the voting process confuses me. See, I want to register in Home State. But, during the election, I will be in Southern State. Why, you may ask, can't I just use an absentee ballot? That is a good question and I am glad that you are thinking ahead, but if I understand the law correctly (and there's a good chance I may not, so someone please correct me if necessary), it states that your first time voting must be done in the precinct in which you are registered.
It also doesn't help that I am leaving for Southern State in the wee hours of the morning so there isn't terribly much I can do in person unless my mom takes the reigns in my absence. So what do I do? Do I just bite the bullet and register in Southern State, even though I will only reside there for two more years? Register in Home State, defy the system and vote in Southern State with my absentee ballot when time comes? Register in Home State, show up in earnest, and use a provisional ballot? Anyone? Anyone at all? Please, some grownup who is smarter than me, give me a game plan.
Before this, I used to look down upon people who weren't registered to vote. My tender, naive sensibilities thought that only lazy, uninformed drones couldn't bother themselves to change the world, make a difference, and let their voices be heard! No more. I am still an idealistic hippie which is why I'm still trying to figure this out, but this shit is confusing. I guess I can understand why a lesser being would throw in the towel. It's not right, but it's okay.
Despite that, I think everyone who possibly can should try their best and register, especially us young and able-bodied folks. Because not only is this a historical election and I probably be rendered unworthy of a Black card if I don't vote, but also I because I really, really want to wear an "Obama is my Homeboy" t-shirt without feeling like a total sham and phony.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Successful Saturday
You'd better not let me down, Barack Hussein.
I'm watching some religious show that both Barack and Old Man McCain are on (not together) and he just said that he believes that his definition of marriage is one between a man and a woman but he also believes in civil unions. And the people in the audience clapped. Oh whatever. Let whoever wants to get married get married, I say. You're still my main man, though, B. And he just got back on my good side by saying that he wouldn't have elected Clarence Thomas to the Supreme Court. High-five.
This Saturday is shaping up nicely even though have been plagued with nasty bout of grumpy sickness for the past 48 hours. I say so for a few reasons:
a) I entered a contest at the lovely Makeup and Beauty Blog, which I won! My prize came today: Essie's Fall 2008 Collection of (swoon) NAIL POLISH. Yay to me, muchas gracias--I'm sticking to the language I know, okay?!--to Karen from MBB!
2) I--finally!--found the third song from VS that I couldn't find. It took awhile, but thanks to my quick and surreptitious typing on my Blackberry, I was able to jot down some lyrics and Google 'em. Thus, I present you with Kate Nash's "We Get On."
This song is plucky and British. The last three artists I added have been Brit soul singers (Duffy, Adele, and now Kate). I like to think they are Amy Winehouse-inspired. Blimey, crikey, cheerio, and aluminium, lads! Well, lassies. Oh, wait, that's Scottish. Never mind. We know how I am with languages and such.
I'm watching some religious show that both Barack and Old Man McCain are on (not together) and he just said that he believes that his definition of marriage is one between a man and a woman but he also believes in civil unions. And the people in the audience clapped. Oh whatever. Let whoever wants to get married get married, I say. You're still my main man, though, B. And he just got back on my good side by saying that he wouldn't have elected Clarence Thomas to the Supreme Court. High-five.
This Saturday is shaping up nicely even though have been plagued with nasty bout of grumpy sickness for the past 48 hours. I say so for a few reasons:
a) I entered a contest at the lovely Makeup and Beauty Blog, which I won! My prize came today: Essie's Fall 2008 Collection of (swoon) NAIL POLISH. Yay to me, muchas gracias--I'm sticking to the language I know, okay?!--to Karen from MBB!
2) I--finally!--found the third song from VS that I couldn't find. It took awhile, but thanks to my quick and surreptitious typing on my Blackberry, I was able to jot down some lyrics and Google 'em. Thus, I present you with Kate Nash's "We Get On."
This song is plucky and British. The last three artists I added have been Brit soul singers (Duffy, Adele, and now Kate). I like to think they are Amy Winehouse-inspired. Blimey, crikey, cheerio, and aluminium, lads! Well, lassies. Oh, wait, that's Scottish. Never mind. We know how I am with languages and such.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
OMG...GMO
*GMO means "gross me out." Try and keep up.
At VS, a Clacker looked up from the table of cotton panties she was folding and asked me, "Do you smoke?"
Blecch. Nothing but 19 years of home training kept me from making a disgusted face as I answered with a pithy "Er, ah, I do not."
She continued her conversation with a fellow smoking Clacker, during which I found out that more of my co-workers light up than I knew, including one who I really do not like. Finding out she smokes gives me more reason to dislike her, so I couldn't even be too appalled.
Now, before hearts get all atwitter, I think we can surmise that I am one of the least-judgmental people on God's green earth. You wanna move to a nudist commune? Get an abortion*? Have a man-2-man wedding with Little Richard singing "Tutti Frutti" a capella as you walk down the aisle in matching purple catsuits? Fine! Send my invite and let's party! I have my opinions about other things, of course (Z-list fame-whores, porn stars, sexploitation in general), but if there is one thing that revolts me to the point where my like for you instantly goes down two points, it is the pulling out and subsequent lighting of that hateful little orange-tipped deathstick.
*Oh yes. I went there.
Don't get me wrong, though. If one of my friends started a Marlboro habit tomorrow, that is not to say I would, like, not be their friend anymore (I won't, however, date smokers) or anything. I'd put in my two cents and say that I find smoking reprehensible, and that would be it. I'm not going to constantly reiterate the importance of healthy lungs. It's their life, their lungs, do with it what you will. You have every right to smoke, and I have every right to find it gross. Such is the way of the world.
In my next post I will lighten the mood with shopping, movies, and other daily mishaps. There is raw footage of my interview with TAT at Warped Tour which must be uploaded on Youtube. Not to mention, I want to think more about that purple-catsuited wedding...
At VS, a Clacker looked up from the table of cotton panties she was folding and asked me, "Do you smoke?"
Blecch. Nothing but 19 years of home training kept me from making a disgusted face as I answered with a pithy "Er, ah, I do not."
She continued her conversation with a fellow smoking Clacker, during which I found out that more of my co-workers light up than I knew, including one who I really do not like. Finding out she smokes gives me more reason to dislike her, so I couldn't even be too appalled.
Now, before hearts get all atwitter, I think we can surmise that I am one of the least-judgmental people on God's green earth. You wanna move to a nudist commune? Get an abortion*? Have a man-2-man wedding with Little Richard singing "Tutti Frutti" a capella as you walk down the aisle in matching purple catsuits? Fine! Send my invite and let's party! I have my opinions about other things, of course (Z-list fame-whores, porn stars, sexploitation in general), but if there is one thing that revolts me to the point where my like for you instantly goes down two points, it is the pulling out and subsequent lighting of that hateful little orange-tipped deathstick.
*Oh yes. I went there.
Don't get me wrong, though. If one of my friends started a Marlboro habit tomorrow, that is not to say I would, like, not be their friend anymore (I won't, however, date smokers) or anything. I'd put in my two cents and say that I find smoking reprehensible, and that would be it. I'm not going to constantly reiterate the importance of healthy lungs. It's their life, their lungs, do with it what you will. You have every right to smoke, and I have every right to find it gross. Such is the way of the world.
In my next post I will lighten the mood with shopping, movies, and other daily mishaps. There is raw footage of my interview with TAT at Warped Tour which must be uploaded on Youtube. Not to mention, I want to think more about that purple-catsuited wedding...
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Yes, I am Complaining...but it's My Blog
It seems as if everything is bugging me/driving me up the wall. Everything is a pet-peeve. I can't stop thinking about things that trouble me or make me upset. Lately, even things like race relations, gay rights, self-reflection, and the environment have been on my mind.
Usually I counter these thoughts with singing (loudly) and favorite movie scenes and the like, but it's tiring. I really think it's a result of stress. Not even that I'm stressed I'm just tired. I almost flat-out refused to go to TV Station today. I want to sleep in. I want to read trashy novels and drink cherry Slurpees by the gallon (make that a Passion Fruit Bubble Tea) and go swimming and watch marathons and expand my DVD collection. You know, things you're supposed to do in the summertime. I mean, yes, the money and experience will be worth it and I really am grateful for these opportunities, and I enjoy myself usually and if the situations were reversed I'd wish I had a job and two internships, but I need a breather. And what's the point of making money if you're so stingy with your off-hours that you won't consider leaving the house if you don't have to?
Consider this: I have not been on Dlisted ALL DAY. That just should not happen.
I know, I know, it's called being an adult. Call me a spoiled freeloader. But I have the rest of my life to be an adult, and consequently, the window of being able to be a spoiled freeloader is getting smaller and smaller as I get older. I promise I will become a responsible, productive, tax-paying contributor to society when I "have" to. For now, though, if it's okay, I'd really just like to go swimming.
Usually I counter these thoughts with singing (loudly) and favorite movie scenes and the like, but it's tiring. I really think it's a result of stress. Not even that I'm stressed I'm just tired. I almost flat-out refused to go to TV Station today. I want to sleep in. I want to read trashy novels and drink cherry Slurpees by the gallon (make that a Passion Fruit Bubble Tea) and go swimming and watch marathons and expand my DVD collection. You know, things you're supposed to do in the summertime. I mean, yes, the money and experience will be worth it and I really am grateful for these opportunities, and I enjoy myself usually and if the situations were reversed I'd wish I had a job and two internships, but I need a breather. And what's the point of making money if you're so stingy with your off-hours that you won't consider leaving the house if you don't have to?
Consider this: I have not been on Dlisted ALL DAY. That just should not happen.
I know, I know, it's called being an adult. Call me a spoiled freeloader. But I have the rest of my life to be an adult, and consequently, the window of being able to be a spoiled freeloader is getting smaller and smaller as I get older. I promise I will become a responsible, productive, tax-paying contributor to society when I "have" to. For now, though, if it's okay, I'd really just like to go swimming.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Material Girl
Allow me to unleash my inner beauty blogger for a moment. Tonight, on the quest for super soft, silky skin, I ventured in the Holy Mecca of beauty booty: my mom's closet. And it did not disappoint. I found the tub of Lush's Karma Kream that we got her last Christmas. Lush is a line of bath and body stuff that uses natural ingredients and recycled packaging, so you know I love it. Some of their stuff is pretty cool, like their bath bombs and this moisturizer that looks like Jell-o. Fresh out of the shower, I applied some Karma Kream to my shoulders at first, and stuff works, y'all. It has a unique fragrance, and I can't stop rubbing my cheek against my shoulder 'cause it's so silky! I've liked Lush for awhile, but the price is a little rich for my blood. The Karma Kream cost about $25 bucks. But the body cream I want from Carol's Daughter, my other skincare love, is about $30. Once I get paid, though, the price will be quite justifiable to have touchable skin. And seeing as I don't spend that much money on clothes, I think it's a fair trade :)
Probably TMI: As much as I love skin stuff, however, nothing seems to be working for the fugly chicken bumps on my upper arms! The hell? Does anyone else get these in the summertime, 'cause they are ruining my sleeveless swag (even though I doubt they're noticeable to anyone but me).
Also, I finally went to the Girlprops website, and boy, am I glad I did. It's an accessories site, and their stuff is everywhere, and super cheap, thank God! I have a feeling that my girls would really like this site; we're all pretty much jewelry junkies. This site might even make me get over my paranoia about online shopping (I'm scared that I'll never get my order). But for this necklace (that's only $6.99, might I add), I totally would make an exception:
A horseshoe! Get it? Because I'm Lucky!
If you had to choose a charm to represent you, what would it be?
Probably TMI: As much as I love skin stuff, however, nothing seems to be working for the fugly chicken bumps on my upper arms! The hell? Does anyone else get these in the summertime, 'cause they are ruining my sleeveless swag (even though I doubt they're noticeable to anyone but me).
Also, I finally went to the Girlprops website, and boy, am I glad I did. It's an accessories site, and their stuff is everywhere, and super cheap, thank God! I have a feeling that my girls would really like this site; we're all pretty much jewelry junkies. This site might even make me get over my paranoia about online shopping (I'm scared that I'll never get my order). But for this necklace (that's only $6.99, might I add), I totally would make an exception:
A horseshoe! Get it? Because I'm Lucky!
If you had to choose a charm to represent you, what would it be?
Monday, May 19, 2008
"Buy You a Drank"-T-Pain
[So y'all will know what I'm listening to as I write (title explanation)]
Last night I had a dream about Beyonce. Y'all know I don't even like her like that, but this morning I woke up humming "Get Me Bodied." I also had a dream that I got a C in Spanish; in the words of Top Chef, I nearly had a stroke. When I woke up to check my transcripts online, though, I remembered that there's a hold on my account, thus making it impossible to check my grades. If I, heaven forbid, have any Cs, heads will roll. I've been having funky dreams lately, but they've been strangely un-fulfilling. Like, I wake up before me and dream dude kiss, or before Chris Brown gets onstage, or whatever. And I'm like, hello?! If I can't kiss in my own dreams, well, just when the hell can I?
The dedicated among you might notice that it is a tad early in the day for me to be awake, and you are absolutely right. I got up at 11am today (okay, 11:05) for my interview, but when I called to confirm the time, the meeting had been pushed to 3:30pm. Which was boss because I took a shower, ate cereal, and watched The View in my nice underwear and Chanel studs (y'all know which ones). It was extremely decadent, and I enjoyed every prancing minute of it.
"Kimora:LiFL" was excellent, as usual. She's trying to go green. Fabulously, of course. Let this be a lesson! If the queen of opulence can take steps to decrease her carbon footprint, so can we. I was an eco-Nazi this weekend, yelling "Lights off!" or "Dishwasher!" to family members making various infractions. It was fun. "The Game" season finale wasn't bad. Matter fact, I'm about to make a sandwich and go watch it on YouTube..."Gossip Girl" and "One Tree Hill" tonight! Go Monday TV.
Nothing too serious today so far, as you can see. Hopefully it stays that way. I painted my toenails gold while watching "Ocean's 13" over the weekend, and now I don't think I like them. They aren't sparkly enough. And that will just not do. Because at this point in my life, things like sparkly toenails and lacy underwear are just requisites.
Last night I had a dream about Beyonce. Y'all know I don't even like her like that, but this morning I woke up humming "Get Me Bodied." I also had a dream that I got a C in Spanish; in the words of Top Chef, I nearly had a stroke. When I woke up to check my transcripts online, though, I remembered that there's a hold on my account, thus making it impossible to check my grades. If I, heaven forbid, have any Cs, heads will roll. I've been having funky dreams lately, but they've been strangely un-fulfilling. Like, I wake up before me and dream dude kiss, or before Chris Brown gets onstage, or whatever. And I'm like, hello?! If I can't kiss in my own dreams, well, just when the hell can I?
The dedicated among you might notice that it is a tad early in the day for me to be awake, and you are absolutely right. I got up at 11am today (okay, 11:05) for my interview, but when I called to confirm the time, the meeting had been pushed to 3:30pm. Which was boss because I took a shower, ate cereal, and watched The View in my nice underwear and Chanel studs (y'all know which ones). It was extremely decadent, and I enjoyed every prancing minute of it.
"Kimora:LiFL" was excellent, as usual. She's trying to go green. Fabulously, of course. Let this be a lesson! If the queen of opulence can take steps to decrease her carbon footprint, so can we. I was an eco-Nazi this weekend, yelling "Lights off!" or "Dishwasher!" to family members making various infractions. It was fun. "The Game" season finale wasn't bad. Matter fact, I'm about to make a sandwich and go watch it on YouTube..."Gossip Girl" and "One Tree Hill" tonight! Go Monday TV.
Nothing too serious today so far, as you can see. Hopefully it stays that way. I painted my toenails gold while watching "Ocean's 13" over the weekend, and now I don't think I like them. They aren't sparkly enough. And that will just not do. Because at this point in my life, things like sparkly toenails and lacy underwear are just requisites.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
The world has been made right!!
Taking a break from packing, I stumbled across this photographic gem. Behold:
Yes, people, it is none other than Chris Brown and Rihanna all hugged up at KFC. *sigh* Now that is black love...watch, that's gonna be me and my man someday, looking all cute at Popeye's!!
Wow. Lawd, that sounded a little too country for my liking...Jesus take the wheel and get me back above the Mason-Dixon Line, STAT!
Also, when did Usher get sexy?
I keep forgetting that he's short. Tiny detail. Haha, I said "tiny."
You know you laughed.
Yes, people, it is none other than Chris Brown and Rihanna all hugged up at KFC. *sigh* Now that is black love...watch, that's gonna be me and my man someday, looking all cute at Popeye's!!
Wow. Lawd, that sounded a little too country for my liking...Jesus take the wheel and get me back above the Mason-Dixon Line, STAT!
Also, when did Usher get sexy?
I keep forgetting that he's short. Tiny detail. Haha, I said "tiny."
You know you laughed.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
I Wish I Were on a Rooftop Somewhere
There is so much that I want to say. I want to be fearless again.
I see myself from the outside looking in, always a step ahead, deciding how to play the situation, which cards to lay on the table and which to keep to myself. It's gotten so that I can't really decipher my own feelings. I can't look at things objectively anymore. Everything always has a hidden meaning, or an underlayer. Or does it? Am I so caught up in playing the game that I can't keep up with myself? Does that make sense? Am I playing according to plan and staying a step ahead or am I making mountains out of molehills by analyzing every little detail? If nothing else, how do you know if someone's "worth it?" Is there a checklist to determine a proper level of "worthiness"? I know you're supposed to just "know" but I know from experience that I can manipulate my own thoughts and make myself believe something. I just like to know where I stand, that's all. In life in general. And yes, with the people around me as well. This isn't supposed to be hard. But I won't apologize for my thoughts. Or, hell, my actions. They're mine to make.
I think I'm going crazy. I should have gone to therapy this morning but I flaked out. Again. It could have been some preventative action. Right now I would pick up the phone and try and make sense of this but it's not charged. A sign? Was it also a sign when as I reached the shuttle bus on the way back to campus it took off? Screw that, it just pissed me off. That walk left me alone with my thoughts...dangerous.
I felt a million miles away from you. There are so many questions I would ask if I weren't afraid of the answer. I need an outlet. Preferably a physical one that requires little talking. (Whoa. That sounded a little dirty.)
Right now I'm supposed to be packing for my business trip (I'm calling it a business trip), but I got distracted. My old computer shut down unexpectedly (hence its replacement) so I can't transfer my Ipod playlists to my new one. That's right, folks. Connie the computer has been replaced. But if I have to lug both computers to NC just so I can charge my Ipod, you'd better believe I will.
Happy Earth Day. Recycle. Don't smoke. Hug a tree. Plant a flower. Kiss somebody properly (that will save the world because I wholeheartedly believe that proper kissing yields endorphins and the world needs a little happiness). And last but not least, save water; shower together.
I see myself from the outside looking in, always a step ahead, deciding how to play the situation, which cards to lay on the table and which to keep to myself. It's gotten so that I can't really decipher my own feelings. I can't look at things objectively anymore. Everything always has a hidden meaning, or an underlayer. Or does it? Am I so caught up in playing the game that I can't keep up with myself? Does that make sense? Am I playing according to plan and staying a step ahead or am I making mountains out of molehills by analyzing every little detail? If nothing else, how do you know if someone's "worth it?" Is there a checklist to determine a proper level of "worthiness"? I know you're supposed to just "know" but I know from experience that I can manipulate my own thoughts and make myself believe something. I just like to know where I stand, that's all. In life in general. And yes, with the people around me as well. This isn't supposed to be hard. But I won't apologize for my thoughts. Or, hell, my actions. They're mine to make.
I think I'm going crazy. I should have gone to therapy this morning but I flaked out. Again. It could have been some preventative action. Right now I would pick up the phone and try and make sense of this but it's not charged. A sign? Was it also a sign when as I reached the shuttle bus on the way back to campus it took off? Screw that, it just pissed me off. That walk left me alone with my thoughts...dangerous.
I felt a million miles away from you. There are so many questions I would ask if I weren't afraid of the answer. I need an outlet. Preferably a physical one that requires little talking. (Whoa. That sounded a little dirty.)
Right now I'm supposed to be packing for my business trip (I'm calling it a business trip), but I got distracted. My old computer shut down unexpectedly (hence its replacement) so I can't transfer my Ipod playlists to my new one. That's right, folks. Connie the computer has been replaced. But if I have to lug both computers to NC just so I can charge my Ipod, you'd better believe I will.
Happy Earth Day. Recycle. Don't smoke. Hug a tree. Plant a flower. Kiss somebody properly (that will save the world because I wholeheartedly believe that proper kissing yields endorphins and the world needs a little happiness). And last but not least, save water; shower together.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
I Almost Forgot
Remember when I said that "Blackle.com" was more environment-friendly? Well, turns out, it's not. According to an article that Sistah Girl found, blackle is only effective with CRT monitors, which are pretty much outdated. With LCD monitors, found in most computers/laptops/whatever, it actually takes more energy to produce the black background than the colored one of Google fame. I will look it up myself later when I am in need of something to help me procrastinate, but yeah, unless you're stuck with a 1980s-style comp, I'm pretty sure it's safe to go back to the Googlemeister. Oh, Google, how could I ever have forsaken thee?! Never again, my love. Never again.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Save the World
Checkin' in before I have to cover a Georgia Force game (Arena Football. Uncharted territory) tonight.
I recently got a tip from a Glamour magazine blog on how to live a lil' greener: use Blackle.com instead of Google. It saves energy because there's no color on the site. Didn't think about it, huh? Now, now, I love the Googs with my heart and soul, too, but rest easy, y'all. Blackle's powered by Google so the search engine results are the same. I actually used Blackle this morning and thought it was pretty cool. If I could figure out how to switch the automatic search engine on my toolbar, it'd be easier.
We had a mini-discussion in Basic Newswriting about the Lebron/Gisele Vogue cover today, randomly. This one guy in my class' comments annoyed me. He said, basically, that Lebron "probably isn't that smart because he's just a basketball player. He didn't go to college. No offense to any sports fans." I wanted to slap him. Far be it for me to say anything in Lebron's defense, ever, but I hate stereotypes, especially ones related to athletics, double-especially from people who don't know what the hell they're talking about...In my annoyance, and because he tries to randomly start conversations with me, I am tempted to name him Well-Meaning but Creepy and Annoying Guy, but I'll hold off.
Laundry Watch 2008 continues. Hopefully everything will be made right tomorrow. I am down to my last bra. This is getting ridiculous. Also hopefully I will finish in the daytime, I believe I do have plans Saturday evening that require clothing.
This weekend should be interesting. I feel it. Oh, wow, I have a shitload of homework so before anything "interesting" can happen I should probably get that out of the way. Wouldn't want silly things like "classes" or "homework" get in the way of a true college experience.
I recently got a tip from a Glamour magazine blog on how to live a lil' greener: use Blackle.com instead of Google. It saves energy because there's no color on the site. Didn't think about it, huh? Now, now, I love the Googs with my heart and soul, too, but rest easy, y'all. Blackle's powered by Google so the search engine results are the same. I actually used Blackle this morning and thought it was pretty cool. If I could figure out how to switch the automatic search engine on my toolbar, it'd be easier.
We had a mini-discussion in Basic Newswriting about the Lebron/Gisele Vogue cover today, randomly. This one guy in my class' comments annoyed me. He said, basically, that Lebron "probably isn't that smart because he's just a basketball player. He didn't go to college. No offense to any sports fans." I wanted to slap him. Far be it for me to say anything in Lebron's defense, ever, but I hate stereotypes, especially ones related to athletics, double-especially from people who don't know what the hell they're talking about...In my annoyance, and because he tries to randomly start conversations with me, I am tempted to name him Well-Meaning but Creepy and Annoying Guy, but I'll hold off.
Laundry Watch 2008 continues. Hopefully everything will be made right tomorrow. I am down to my last bra. This is getting ridiculous. Also hopefully I will finish in the daytime, I believe I do have plans Saturday evening that require clothing.
This weekend should be interesting. I feel it. Oh, wow, I have a shitload of homework so before anything "interesting" can happen I should probably get that out of the way. Wouldn't want silly things like "classes" or "homework" get in the way of a true college experience.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
What Do You Believe In?
Today was rather eventful. I'll tell y'all about it later. First, read about these t-shirts.
Awhile ago, I ran across this website that lets you put an "I Believe" statement on a t-shirt and gives the money to the charity of your choice. At the risk of sounding maudlin, I've been thinking about concepts like purpose, accountability, self, and ways to save the environment :) lately, and I've decided that I really want a t-shirt, even if it is $35. Problem is, I don't know what to put on it; I have so many beliefs to choose from! For example, I believe:
-that most people are inherently good
-in the restorative power of laughter and good music
-that professional athletes have more heart than people give them credit for
-in different strokes for different folks
-that Crocs don't look good on anyone
-that every NFL team should play each other every season
-that dogs are almost as good as boyfriends
-in turning off the light when you leave a room
-in the 5-second rule
-in brightly-colored toenails
-that Michael Jackson is the greatest artist of all time
-in the intimacy and comfort of a bear hug
-that rudeness never gets anyone anywhere
-in having odd tastes in food
-that high-fives are underrated
-in believing
-in songs that make you cry
That's just my starting list. What do you believe in?
Awhile ago, I ran across this website that lets you put an "I Believe" statement on a t-shirt and gives the money to the charity of your choice. At the risk of sounding maudlin, I've been thinking about concepts like purpose, accountability, self, and ways to save the environment :) lately, and I've decided that I really want a t-shirt, even if it is $35. Problem is, I don't know what to put on it; I have so many beliefs to choose from! For example, I believe:
-that most people are inherently good
-in the restorative power of laughter and good music
-that professional athletes have more heart than people give them credit for
-in different strokes for different folks
-that Crocs don't look good on anyone
-that every NFL team should play each other every season
-that dogs are almost as good as boyfriends
-in turning off the light when you leave a room
-in the 5-second rule
-in brightly-colored toenails
-that Michael Jackson is the greatest artist of all time
-in the intimacy and comfort of a bear hug
-that rudeness never gets anyone anywhere
-in having odd tastes in food
-that high-fives are underrated
-in believing
-in songs that make you cry
That's just my starting list. What do you believe in?
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Before I Pass Out...
Real quick so I can go to bed to wake up and visit the soup kitchen tomorrow..
I had to cover a ceremony for The Paper. It was a lot of schmoozing and "can I ask you a few questions about..." nonsense. For this shy girl, it was literally like walking into hell, I kid you not. It turned out to be okay, but after I got my quotes I decided to take a well-deserved break and post up in a corner. I was made, I decided, to sulk artfully with a drink in my hand and watch a crowd. But as I walked home, swag bag in hand (thanks, Nike!), I wondered if I wasn't destined to be the single-girl cliche, the one who gets to attend fancy parties but goes home with blisters on her feet and to nothing but the television waiting up for her.
How could I forget? Tex is surely in town, y'all. I know. I hit the panic button when I saw him and basically walked right past him. It just wasn't the right time; the wrong people, the wrong place, etc. But it sucks because I probably won't ever see him again. And I was looking cute so if he did see me, that's a plus. But then he could just not care, because him not caring was the problem in the first place. I can't believe it. It's happening again. That boy is my kryptonite. I hate that he still can reduce me to a blathering idiot. And I hate even more that I had to see him from afar, as if the last 8 months of growing that I did in his absence never happened. I was just the girl who liked the boy who didn't like her back, once again. And that's a rotten feeling the first time around, as well as, I now know, the second. BFF wasn't any help when I called her with the dirt.
"Yeah, you should have said something," she kept saying. "It's all you, honey."
Wtf? I wanted to yell. What does that even mean? Not the cheer-up I needed. Sigh. DAMMIT... Well, now, hold on a minute. It's times like these that you must ask yourself, "Why did God do this?" And you have to be mature enough to know that the answer is not, "To torture me."
When people cause you so much worry, it must be because you care about them so much. Being caught in the middle of your two closest friends is, for the record, a horrible place to be in. I've grown numb to the tension. I want everything to be okay.
Last but not least, a little something to cheer myself up after days that just don't seem to be going right:
Yum-o.
(hoodsworld.com)
They can Ba-rack my boat, er, vote, anytime...
I had to cover a ceremony for The Paper. It was a lot of schmoozing and "can I ask you a few questions about..." nonsense. For this shy girl, it was literally like walking into hell, I kid you not. It turned out to be okay, but after I got my quotes I decided to take a well-deserved break and post up in a corner. I was made, I decided, to sulk artfully with a drink in my hand and watch a crowd. But as I walked home, swag bag in hand (thanks, Nike!), I wondered if I wasn't destined to be the single-girl cliche, the one who gets to attend fancy parties but goes home with blisters on her feet and to nothing but the television waiting up for her.
How could I forget? Tex is surely in town, y'all. I know. I hit the panic button when I saw him and basically walked right past him. It just wasn't the right time; the wrong people, the wrong place, etc. But it sucks because I probably won't ever see him again. And I was looking cute so if he did see me, that's a plus. But then he could just not care, because him not caring was the problem in the first place. I can't believe it. It's happening again. That boy is my kryptonite. I hate that he still can reduce me to a blathering idiot. And I hate even more that I had to see him from afar, as if the last 8 months of growing that I did in his absence never happened. I was just the girl who liked the boy who didn't like her back, once again. And that's a rotten feeling the first time around, as well as, I now know, the second. BFF wasn't any help when I called her with the dirt.
"Yeah, you should have said something," she kept saying. "It's all you, honey."
Wtf? I wanted to yell. What does that even mean? Not the cheer-up I needed. Sigh. DAMMIT... Well, now, hold on a minute. It's times like these that you must ask yourself, "Why did God do this?" And you have to be mature enough to know that the answer is not, "To torture me."
When people cause you so much worry, it must be because you care about them so much. Being caught in the middle of your two closest friends is, for the record, a horrible place to be in. I've grown numb to the tension. I want everything to be okay.
Last but not least, a little something to cheer myself up after days that just don't seem to be going right:
Yum-o.
(hoodsworld.com)
They can Ba-rack my boat, er, vote, anytime...
Sunday, January 13, 2008
I've found my niche
at the risk of sounding maudlin, i think i've found my new(est) passion: philanthropy.
we volunteered at a soup kitchen this morning, and it was absolutely fantastic. if you don't leave there feeling inspired and smiley, you must have a rock for a heart, because serving soup to the homeless for three hours is one of the most humbling, gratifying, and all-around purifying experiences i have ever had.
later during the day, during casual dinner with the friends at Cali Girls' house, i realized that something needs to be done about the amount of shallow people in this world, and that thing just might be found in the basement of the Immaculate Conception church. i served some of the nicest people, some were more polite and gracious and friendly that people i know who get three square meals a day and then some, you know? working there taught me a lot about respect, humanity, and well, blessings. i literally could have stayed all day at that kitchen, despite the chaos and achy feet; whether we got community service or not. everyone left laughing and joking and chatting...altruism will do that to you. it's a high that not even a look from the cutest guy, best yoga class, or yummiest piece of food could rival. the lead man was so friendly, he just kept talking about how much he loved people and how we made a difference even if we only helped one person. which was impossible unless you were completely lazy...anyway i want to go back. i could talk/write about this all night, but i'll spare ya'll the confessions of my do-goodery brain :)
still been hanging out with the Runner. the last time i was there i pulled the ultimate coup de gras: i wore my troublemaking shirt. the black one that looks like lingerie (i know, right? i play for keeps). but it was cold so i had on like two outside layers over it..as i slowly unwound my scarf and unbuttoned my sweater, i couldn't help feeling like a sexy eskimo or something..the Runner's eyes nearly popped out of his head, followed by much touchy-feely almost boyfriend-esque behavior..followed even more by cute text messages ("u waz lookin good in them jeans"). get this, Science Guy (who's also his roommate! honestly they should make my life into a sitcom) had the nerve to look, dare i say, jealous?! he sent me a text today, referring to me as "ur fine self." i had to laugh, i mean come on. i don't even know what i want at this point, or, suffice it to say, who i want. dear God, how do i get myself into these things? even through all of the flirting business, i still don't think the Runner and i would be a good couple outside of all that..it would be like being in a relationship just to be in one. who knows, maybe i'm being an attention-whore and he doesn't even like me like that. he hasn't made any moves to talk about possibly being together, unless, again, i'm being completely dense in which case means i probably am not savvy enough to have a boyfriend anyway. it's kill or be killed out there, honestly.
have not been to the gym in a week. i think it's showing. i go home soon, hallelujah!
we volunteered at a soup kitchen this morning, and it was absolutely fantastic. if you don't leave there feeling inspired and smiley, you must have a rock for a heart, because serving soup to the homeless for three hours is one of the most humbling, gratifying, and all-around purifying experiences i have ever had.
later during the day, during casual dinner with the friends at Cali Girls' house, i realized that something needs to be done about the amount of shallow people in this world, and that thing just might be found in the basement of the Immaculate Conception church. i served some of the nicest people, some were more polite and gracious and friendly that people i know who get three square meals a day and then some, you know? working there taught me a lot about respect, humanity, and well, blessings. i literally could have stayed all day at that kitchen, despite the chaos and achy feet; whether we got community service or not. everyone left laughing and joking and chatting...altruism will do that to you. it's a high that not even a look from the cutest guy, best yoga class, or yummiest piece of food could rival. the lead man was so friendly, he just kept talking about how much he loved people and how we made a difference even if we only helped one person. which was impossible unless you were completely lazy...anyway i want to go back. i could talk/write about this all night, but i'll spare ya'll the confessions of my do-goodery brain :)
still been hanging out with the Runner. the last time i was there i pulled the ultimate coup de gras: i wore my troublemaking shirt. the black one that looks like lingerie (i know, right? i play for keeps). but it was cold so i had on like two outside layers over it..as i slowly unwound my scarf and unbuttoned my sweater, i couldn't help feeling like a sexy eskimo or something..the Runner's eyes nearly popped out of his head, followed by much touchy-feely almost boyfriend-esque behavior..followed even more by cute text messages ("u waz lookin good in them jeans"). get this, Science Guy (who's also his roommate! honestly they should make my life into a sitcom) had the nerve to look, dare i say, jealous?! he sent me a text today, referring to me as "ur fine self." i had to laugh, i mean come on. i don't even know what i want at this point, or, suffice it to say, who i want. dear God, how do i get myself into these things? even through all of the flirting business, i still don't think the Runner and i would be a good couple outside of all that..it would be like being in a relationship just to be in one. who knows, maybe i'm being an attention-whore and he doesn't even like me like that. he hasn't made any moves to talk about possibly being together, unless, again, i'm being completely dense in which case means i probably am not savvy enough to have a boyfriend anyway. it's kill or be killed out there, honestly.
have not been to the gym in a week. i think it's showing. i go home soon, hallelujah!
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