So, this is my life.

And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

some video about something

people keep posting this on Facebook and stuff, so i thought i'd post it here.

i don't even know what the video is about, because i'm so focused on the cute actor.  but watch it anyway, and let me know what the purpose of it is.  k, thanks.

post(ing) secret(s)/my morning smile

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Happy Drunksgiving

11:20P.  omg need to go to bed.  2 more people stopped by.  lovely to see them, but i cannot watch any more 'Love Actually' deleted scenes. everybody (except T) needs to go home and let me sleep.  it turned out to be a not-too-drunk-sgiving.  great success.  

9:09 P.  "Oh, no. That is so inconvenient." i feel you, Prime Minister; love can be just so inconvenient. oh, um, watching 'Love Actually'... obviously.

8:42 P.  coincidentally, once i began washing dishes and banging pots around, everyone woke up!  crazy timing, because i was hungry for dessert and M2 was ready to make whipped cream for his pies.  pies sure wake people up.  so does egg nog, but eventually that makes them all pass out again.  

7:20 P.  people are droppin' like flies, yo!  er'body be fallin' asleep.  i told an old friend who lives in DC that i'd meet up for a drink while he's in town visiting family, but my resolve is growing weaker.  'Chicago' is on a movie channel; perhaps because i know how this story ends, i am not on the edge of my seat.  i am on the verge of saying goodnight to the half-asleep gang.  what happened to Drunksgiving? no one has even had any nog.

5:00 P.  during the meal, we went around the table and each shared what he or she is thankful for this year.  as i shared with my friends, this year i am most thankful for happiness and stability.  i've been happy every day since moving to Baltimore, and life here feels very stable.  when it was D's turn to share, she said that i took her answer.

4:40 P. so much good food.  now all i want to do is nap.  it's kinda late to nap, though, right?  i think that if i nap after 2 pm, then either my night's sleep will be ruined or i'll be unable to wake up and will just sleep until 4 in the morning.  like that Gwen Stefani song.  which reminds me, i love this Gwen Stefani song and haven't heard it in a while.  the video is great.

2:30 P.  we were supposed to eat 30 minutes ago, but otherwise everything is going smoothly.  D asked me to "say grace" before the meal, so we'll see if i can come up with something nice and non-offensive to any christians who may be hiding within earshot.  everyone likes the punch, and since nobody has eaten yet, it's quite effective.

1:02 P.  the fizzy vodka fruity punch is great.  in perfecting the recipe, i've had about two drinks, and i haven't even started my famous egg nog yet.  also, our second import from Philadelphia just arrived, dressed up and looking hot. i was just informed that we're all "dressing up" for the meal today.  just now.  thanks for the heads up, guys.  what to wear? 

12:05 P.  we just gave one of the cats a bath so that she'd be fluffy and pretty for our guests.  i don't have the patience/strength to bathe Atticus, and i have a lot of work to do anyway.  what to wear? what to put in my fizzy vodka drink? what to wear? just ate a banana, for the K.

11:10 A.  still on the phone with Ma, who advises me that i'm waking up to "Charlie horses" and muscle spasms because i need potassium.  "You need to eat bananas," she says.  i'm so tired, i almost blurt out, "Bitch you don't know my life!" but catch myself at the "B---" and end up saying, "But I ate an entire bunch of bananas this week."  i really did.  and why does that woman start every sentence with "You need to..."?  

11:00 A.  everyone is awake.  turkey is going into the oven soon, with absolutely no help from me.  i did vacuum, though, and have been talking to my Ma on the phone forevz.  this call is longer than usual.  because it's a holiday? i know i should be home.  my brother's home.  i just couldn't make it this year.  oh, cool, someone left the patio door open all night.  that explains the frostbite.  and i really liked my toes (but only the ones on my right foot).

10:30 A.  awoke again, this time not due to a muscle spasm, but rather panic: no one is awake yet!  everyone was out partying last night, so the house is sleeping in.  but that bird isn't going to cook itself, and the meal is scheduled for four hours from now.  i just want to sleep. someone else please wake up.

7 A.  [Interior (even though it's so cold it feels like i'm camping)]  rough start this morning.  got to bed at 2:30 (not too bad), but woke up to the horrible pain of a muscle spasm. rubbed leg. now can't sleep.  guess i'll check Facebook.


Monday, November 21, 2011

my morning smile

pizza, tv OnDemand, and in bed by midnight = the perfect weeknight date.  *swoooon*


Sunday, November 20, 2011

baila pa' tu papi

so many things to tell you.  where do i begin, considering my lack of posting lately?

1. work.  going great.  so busy, but mostly enjoyable, and a great excuse for not going home for Thanksgiving this year (every year i find a new excuse).

2.  Thanksgiving.  this year, since i have only one day off, and my housemate is in the same boat, we're having an intimate Friendsgiving with 5 or 7 lovely people.  the turkey has been purchased, the house is full of food just waiting to be cooked, and i'm in charge of nothing but cocktails.  sweeeeeeet!

i'm thinking of concocting a vodka-cranberry-fizzy-punch thing that everyone will love and that no one will be able to tell is 50% vodka.  i'll begin testing proportions today while i do laundry.  now where's my punch bowl?

3.  car.  somehow in my hectic life juggling work, an eating-disordered cat (who is on meds and is doing much better), finding time for dates with the busy doctor, and trying to get to the gym as often as possible (twice a week is pretty good, right?!), i bought a car.

i haven't had or wanted a car for several years.  why would i want a depreciating hunk of metal that will require expensive and time-consuming maintenance for the rest of our time together?  i didn't.  i don't.  but i'm living in a city where everyone has a car, and for the time being i have a commute, so it just had to happen.

that's not my actual car.  i obviously did not take Papi the Jetta to a scenic hill for a few glamour shots.  if you want to see my actual car, i'll text you a horrible photo that my Ma insisted on taking, or an embarrassing one that Cass took on the day that i got the car.  picture me draped over the hood, smizing and cooing.  why do i still let her talk me into shit like that? we're not 19 anymore.

at any rate, i like the car a lot, and it's the second Jetta i've owned.  it wasn't my first car choice.  i made sure that the first song i played in my new car was J.Lo's PAPI.  i don't even like the song that much, but i had to play it in honor of the Fiat that i so badly wanted but didn't buy because it's ridiculously small (also, two guys told me i would look so gay driving it; one of them said he'd break up with me).  listen to see if you catch the part in the song where J.Lo pays tribute to Willow Smith.

the video features J.Lo's acclaimed acting skills and reminds me of the little-known 1992 film Love Potion No. 9, starring a young and much less attractive, diamond-in-the-rough Sandra Bullock.  now you know.

4.  Twilight.  the series drags on, and unfortunately i am committed for the long haul.  if you haven't yet seen Breaking Dawn, here's some advice: drink beforehand.  it is so awful and hilarious, what with the cartoonish talking dogs and Edward chewing a demon baby out of Bella's womb (oops, i should've said **Spoiler Alert**. my bad!), that i wish that i'd had some vodka-cranberry-fizzy-punch to make the film seem less ridiculous and maybe less memorable.  the final film (what number are we on, now, the seventh?) will be released in a year.  just let it end already.  just --- enough.

on the upside, we finally see our beloved idiot characters having sexual relations, and it looks absolutely nothing like this:

that is not R.Patts' body, not even close.  the promos for this film all deserve Photoshop Emmys. also, the sex scenes are laugh out loud funny.

and there you have it.  this has been an in-depth, multimedia update on my life.  tell me what's going on in yours?

also, i'll be live-blogging the Drunksgiving shenanigans on Thursday, since i'm not doing any of the cooking or other hard work.  stay tuned.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Saturday, November 12, 2011

less-guilty pleasures

now that i have so little time to watch television, i've been forced to make difficult choices.  

this fall i've traded in my guilty pleasure CW shows (i bid you adieu, Gossip Girl.  i'll miss you most, Vampire Diaries) for a few new guilty pleasures that just happen to be more adult.

okay, Once Upon A Time is pretty embarrassingly girlish, but American Horror Story is ridiculously entrancing and even a bit scary, and best of all is Revenge.

are you watching Revenge?  it's so good (and believe it or not, it has nothing to do with the shirtless guys.  they always wear shirts on television). 


Sunday, November 6, 2011

our Sunday rituals

used to be church.  now just hangovers and brunch.

speaking of brunch, which one of you called the author of this piece and told her everything about my life? 

oh, your life also? what's with us?

Wake up moderately-to-completely drunk from the night before. Think to yourself, “I’m never drinking again, unless it’s right now.” You think this because you know drinking is the best hangover cure – though that isn’t necessarily true, is it? You’re not so much “curing your hangover” as you are “getting drunk again,” and god knows that once you’re wasted, you’re not one for multitasking. PEACE OUT, HANGOVER. See you tomorrow! 
Roll out of bed and assemble the brunch squad. Wake up roommates/bedmates. Call people. “You’re still in bed? Well, haven’t you heard? We’re brunchin’ it up! Get your ass in gear or we’re making decisions without you. You have 20 minutes to get over here, we’re all dying of hunger. No admittance without beer, sowwy, byeeee.” 
Once your key players are in place, argue about where you’re going to eat. You want the place with the drink specials, they’re tired of the chicken salad there, you tell them to be more creative with their order, they say, “Jesus, you’re obsessed with that place. Can’t we go somewhere else for once?” And you’re all, “Fine. YOU pick a place where we can get plastered for a flat rate of $25 and I’ll consider it,” just do that until everyone is too hungry and murderous to disagree with you. 
Put on your brunch shirt. You know, your brunch shirt. It’s the shirt you somehow manage to wear every weekend, without fail; essentially it’s the easiest shirt to find/ coordinate with/ look cute in when you’re drunk. Often, it resembles something you’d sleep in and disguises stains well enough. Plaid button down? Kurt Cobain t-shirt that was once black but now rocks that proud “I’ve survived over 2,000 washes” gray? The too-small hoodie you had to cut half the sleeves off of, just to make it fit again? PUT IT ON. YOU’RE GOIN’ TO BRUNCH. 
Have a beer while everyone meanders around in a hungover stupor. “Guys, I’m starving!” 
Someone/ everyone proclaims. “What did we do last night? There’s like, potato chips everywhere. And hot sauce.” “Where?” you say, I mean you’re not going to eat them or anything, you’re just curious. “Guys. Hold the phone. What did we eat last night? I vaguely recall eating something…” and no one remembers. You never remember. 
Put on your sunglasses and walk to brunch. Link arms with one of your friends and tell her a secret. “I almost texted him last night…” She’ll look at you like you just told her you’re considering ass implants. Then she’ll slap you harder than intended. “Bad!” You keep full sentences to a minimum, at least until noon. 
Arrive at your brunch destination, where everybody knows your name because you’ve announced your arrival every weekend for the past six months. “EVERYBODY IT’S ME, THE FOURSQUARE MAYOR! Y’ALL GOT A MAYOR SPECIAL YET?” Lucky for you, this restaurant hasn’t quite taken off yet so the staff is endeared by your loyalty. Sit down and order a round of mimosas/ Bloody Marys/ bellinis. “What’s a bellini?” a new member of the brunch squad asks, and you’re all “God. Where did you grow up? Guam?” and they’re all, “Yeah, actually. Never mind, I’ll take a Bloody Mary. Prick.” 
Whenever the waiter approaches your table, order another round. Even if no one needs a new drink. Unlimited drinks brunch prefix, this ain’t a game. Speak now or forever hold your empty glass remembering what once was. After polishing off your meal and 904089084396 drinks, begin taking suggestions for what to do next. You all have a default bar in mind, just in case. “There’s some bands playing down the street,” one person offers. This suggestion gets a universal MEH until, “and it’s open bar” is tacked on to the end of it. “Shall we?” You shall. 
Have a nightmare of a time trying to figure out who owes what. The plight of the financially stagnant 20-something. Resolve to make a rich, guilty friend in 2012. “Well, your meal is $3 more because you added prosciutto. Sorry to be the bearer of the bad news.” “Um, whatever, because you two shared a side of bacon so, hi! We’re even!” “Not really, because I paid .90 cents more on the cable bill this month, so get over yourself. Cheap ass.” Cell phones are drawn (to calculate the tip). The newbie brunch squader rescinds her membership. I mean, brunch isn’t for everyone.

in other news, i'm so hung over today, and neither my roommate nor i know what happened during the final two hours of last night. it was a perfect day for brunch, and i'm so happy that the above is what i found on my Google.  i suddenly feel so not-alone in this world.   

post(ing) secret(s)

Friday, November 4, 2011

my morning smile

this stupid comic made me chuckle and reminded me of something.  well, of two things:

1.  when i was young, i couldn't get enough of The Far Side comics.  for hours i could sit alone in a library or bookstore (where i grew up, that was called Wal-Mart. gross.) and chuckle at the books of comics.

2.  i also spent a lot of time as a child looking for Waldo.  i had so many Where's Waldo books that -- wait. that means they still must be somewhere in my mom's house.   i have to find them the next time i go home. for old time's sake.  for the child/nerd in me.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

neruda says...

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, 
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.