A wooden nickel for your thoughts

New hair

2011-12-02T14:17:00.000-06:00

Last night, my dear friend J dyed my hair for me. After a few months of sun-soaked highlights, I decided it was time to go dark for winter. As per usual, once it was finished, I became panicked that this was not a good look. This happens after every haircut - in fact, in high school, my mom started refusing to pick me up from the salon because I'd be such a crying brat.

I'm really good with change.

J reassured me that my return to the color I'd previously rocked for 25.5 years was in fact, a good choice. Still, I needed further approval. So at work today, I snapped a pic of the new hair and sent it to Joel for input.

After he responded positively, I thanked him and then sent him a follow-up text, saying, "I just took a photo of myself in my cube. Are you going to defriend me now?"

He said, "Haha of course not. I mean, there are no Cathy comic cutouts yet so you're still good."

Which is when I sent him this.

Unsurprisingly, this exchange was the highlight of my workday.

RIP, Rottlund Homes

2011-11-18T17:00:00.002-06:00

I really do love blogging challenges. So I’m happy to participate in this one, hosted by the very funny ProntoPup. I like this challenge because I can pretty much write about anything I want, right? I think so.

Yesterday, I saw a tweet saying that Rottlund Homes, a local home builder, was going out of business. And I laughed out loud. I swear I'm not evil.

When I was little, I always went grocery shopping with my dad. My biggest job was to make sure we brought chocolate home for my mom, but my second biggest job was to unpack all the groceries onto the belt while he bagged them on the other end. One time when I was around six, we saw a raffle to win a ROTTLUND HOME at the checkout.

As a kid, I didn’t know we were relatively poor. But I knew that we didn’t live in a glamorous brick-style mansion on a sprawling plot, like the ROTTLUND HOME RAFFLE showcased. And I wanted to live in that ROTTLUND HOME.

As a Catholic kid, I knew that my best shot at this ROTTLUND HOME was not in a grocery store raffle, but in a formal appeal to JC. I already had quite the bedtime prayer regimen at this time in my life, but I decided the ROTTLUND HOME was a necessary addition. So each night, I prayed for the safety of my family and my dog, followed by a request for a ROTTLUND HOME, followed by the Our Father, Hail Mary, and the Guardian Angel prayer.

This routine went on for years, I’m pretty sure. I don't know when I stopped praying for the ROTTLUND HOME, or stopped praying in general. I do know that my parents never won a ROTTLUND HOME, but they did manage to buy a very nice home all by themselves about a decade later. (The original home we lived in had mauve carpeting. My mother will never live down the fact that she once thought said carpeting was super chic.)

Anyway, I emailed my parents to share the story, which neither of them had ever heard. Both of them were apologetic that we never lived in a ROTTLUND HOME, and also seemed unsurprised that I was such an utter spaz about the whole thing.

RIP, ROTTLUND HOMES. For what it’s worth, I tried to get God on your side.

Signs of aging

2011-10-13T15:05:00.005-05:00

I turned 26 a few weeks ago. While I had no reservations about turning this particular age, I have noticed over the past few weeks that I am becoming a flat-out grandma. To wit:

When I started to feel a bit tipsy at the bar on my birthday, I turned away free drinks from my comrades in favor of large glasses of ice water. (However, I did wake up sans hangover so let's call that a half-win.)

I recently googled local car washes to determine which one had the best customer appreciation program.

After agreeing to meet a friend for lunch, she sent me a meeting request via Outlook. I accepted.

I went to H&M to peruse their lady undergarments, and came out instead with a three-pack of wool socks.

The good news? I'm in great company. My old roommate gave her boyfriend a serving bowl for his birthday and he freaking LOVED it. No judgment, at all, but just imagine any of us giving that gift as 22-year-olds. We're old, y'all. Stock up on the Gold Bond, large-print books, and find yourself a good denture doctor. The next 70 years are going to be wild.

The nose knows

2011-10-04T10:02:00.007-05:00

It seems like a good day to admit something weird to the internets. It’ll be liberating. Or something.

I'll go first. It's time I disclose that I have a thing for dudes with prominent noses. I know, super weird. But as all my close friends know, it’s all in the shnoz for me. My major crush in high school had a sniffer that most resembled a pelican, and yet… there I sat, patiently waiting for him to break up with ~~the awful human being he was dating~~ his girlfriend. I think the interest might be because I have very small features, and so anyone who can pull off a big nose, lips or eyes is fascinating to me. (Picture Anne Hathaway. She has all the same enormous features as, say, Sandra Bernhard, yet she’s totally hot. It defies all logic.)

While I can’t totally explain the root of my olfactory organ obsession (OOO), I can say that I watch The Good Wife each week because of one Mr. Josh Charles. I have loved this man and his blessed beak since I first saw Dead Poet’s Society at the inappropriate age of eight. I didn’t understand the plot but I understood that Knox Overstreet was a fox.

I loved him again when he put the moves on Christina Applegate (while wearing a fast food uniform, no less) in Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead.

Then, the Good Wife premiered and, judging from the demographics of that show, I became the only person under the age of 60 to watch it all because of my fake celebrity boyfriend, Josh Charles. (Quick aside - you all should be watching that show. How are you not watching that show?!)

Yesterday, the lovely ladies of Go Fug Yourself did a slideshow of the many looks of JC, and I spent a good 15 minute ruminating on how darling he has remained over the years.

So there you go. I am attracted to men with ample nares (google it), and I am just caffeinated enough to think posting this is a good idea.

So, what’s your weird thing? Come on, free your mind now. Leave it in the comments.

Change the sheets, then change me

2011-10-03T16:30:00.005-05:00

It has been eight Septembers since I last pulled on my perfectly hemmed plaid uniform skirt and four Septembers since I last printed out a syllabus, yet I still feel that fall is the most natural time of year to undergo change. Until my friend Tali mentioned that her coworkers would tear her apart for utilizing a September – August planner, it hadn’t occurred to me that beginning a year’s worth of plans in the fall could be construed as extremely juvenile for someone who’s just snuck past the entry level professional bracket.

Plus, it’s hard to think of fall as anything but a time for changes when this year, each autumn day seemed to sweep away everything that had ever felt constant to me.

First, my good friend Tristan left the Midwest for San Francisco this past month. This was difficult because Tris is one of those rare people who you’re always in the mood to hang out with. She’s as good at dissecting friend and family issues as she is at sitting wordlessly for hours watching Dexter. She’ll agree to a McDonald’s dollar sundae run, or an actual run. That’s not to say she’s a pushover – she’s also whip smart and unafraid to tell you what she thinks. Much like the departure of our close friend Emily last March, Tris’ move was bittersweet. My circle of close girlfriends in town continues to dwindle, but it’s impossible to be disappointed when your friends are making the right choices for their futures. Tris is meant to set another city on fire, and I can’t imagine anywhere else she’d be happier.

Another change was a long time coming. After realizing I missed a lot of the detail of the “crime” occurring outside my apartment last month, I got my eyes checked. I am slightly near-sighted and now the proud owner of a sweet pair of specs I wear while driving or watching anything involving a screen. The first time I put them on, I said, “Holy shit. The whole world is HD.” It’s been lovely to make out individual leaves and stare longingly at a crystal clear Coach Eric Taylor as he gave his Emmy acceptance speech.

Texas forever.

The last change is that I just moved out of my apartment into a one bedroom. I love so many things about my new place – it’s in a yellow house on a quiet street, it has a fireplace and free parking, it’s all mine. Yet I know that I’m going to miss my roommate and our old home desperately. I’ll miss coming home to her squeal “Geeeeeeeen!” from the back bedroom, and I’ll miss spontaneous double date breakfasts with our dudes on weekend mornings. I’ll miss the realization we’ll both be home on a weeknight and – huzzah! – together, we have the exact ingredients necessary for roasted veggie and brie sandwiches on toasted baguette. Scheduling time with someone I used to live ten feet will be a bizarre adjustment, but we’ve also joked that as our social circle becomes tighter, hanging out can now be deemed an event and not a loser roomie night in. (How’s that for glass half full?)

So there you have it. Change, change, change. I’m not good at it – is anyone? - but I’m old enough now to know that fighting it is an exercise in futility. Onward and upward, no?

For a song about change that will blow your socks off, check out Kathleen Edward's latest song, Change the Sheets.

The greatest video of all time

2011-09-15T10:10:00.002-05:00

I'm not overselling this, you guys. This is truly the greatest YouTube video of all time. It makes David after Dentist and Hide Ya Kids, Hide Ya Wife look like amateurs.

A video of two grandparents inadvertently using a webcam for the first time:

If it comes out that these folks are actors, my whole world will be shattered.

Fill in the blank Friday

2011-09-02T15:23:00.002-05:00

Today, I'm joining Lauren for fill-in-the-blank Friday. Happy LD weekend!

1. One thing that is completely superfluous, but that I could never give up is snail mail.

2. Dudes who hit on me in elevators and other confined spaces make me feel awkward.

3. I can't wake up without snoozing four times.

4. Pita/hummus is my favorite snack.

5. Lately I've been thinking that Ryan Gosling’s smirk might be even better than Julia Roberts’ toothy grin. Deep, I know.

6. If at first you don't succeed take a nap, then chug a cold press coffee and dominate the shit out of it.

7. Fall is the magical time of year when skinny jeans, boots and cardigans come out of hibernation; Leaves change color and I spend half my paychecks on pumpkin-flavored drinks and treats. I remember running isn’t so bad when it’s not 80 degrees out, and promise to start up a workout plan that will last through the winter, but it only ever lasts through Thanksgiving. Most importantly, windows are open. Windows are open. Windows are open.

Zorbing

2011-09-02T10:04:00.003-05:00

Let's celebrate Friday and the end of this challenge by listening to the first track of the Stornoway album Beachcomber's Windowsill. This song is called Zorbing and I personally enjoy trying to sing the very low backup chants, which I'm sure you'd find unbelievably attractive.

Because Joel refuses to blog despite being the funniest person I know, here are the (verbatim) musings he shared with me after watching this video for the first time:

Through centuries of inbreeding, British people now only have like 15 faces they could be born with.

List of resemblances of their faces: Simon Pegg, Jamie Oliver, Alan Cumming

The drummer is hot sans that douche fedora

The ukelele dude (simon pegg) looked like a drunk mumbling along with the song.

You think you have a small mouth? Did you see the lead singer?

That's a wrap. Thanks, ProntoPup and friends!

Your girl is lovely, Hubbel

2011-08-31T17:10:00.002-05:00

SPOILER ALERT: This post contains plot spoilers of the 1973 film The Way We Were, starring Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford. If you have been meaning to see this movie for the past 38 years, but have not, please do not continue reading any further.

In the end scene of The Way We Were, Babs (Katie Morosky) and Bobby (Hubbel Gardiner) spot one another across the street, years after they divorced. The theme music swells as they approach and embrace one another, while Hubbel's new wife stands at his side watching the scene unfold. An awkward conversation ensues, leading to an even more awkward goodbye where Katie invites them over for a drink. A few moments later, he crosses the street to talk to her again.

This whole scene is awesome – first, she mentions that she is a better loser than he, having had more practice. And then after a brief silence she says, “Your girl is lovely, Hubbel.”

This is such a bitingly perfect compliment. The blonde charmer is a girl, an object that accompanies Hubbel but is too afraid to speak up even when he is reunited with his greatest love. She is also everything Katie could never be – exceedingly beautiful and content to live non-controversially as the wife of a Hollywood screenwriter. Meanwhile, Katie is still standing on the side of a New York street corner screaming at passersby to sign a petition, showing that her fiery passion hasn’t diminished at all. The disparity in their goals and personalities worked for a brief time, but it never could have lasted; though he was at his best when constantly challenged by Katie, Hubbel was not strong enough to sustain the counter-culture lifestyle. Somehow, this scene acts as evidence that their decision to split was the right one, while simultaneously showcasing the regret and “what if” that Katie and Hubbel will always feel.

This ending, in case you can’t tell, slays me. First, I am more Katie than I am blonde charmer. Second, I’ve dated more Hubbels than I have political activists. And third, I am excellent at projecting. So any time I catch this scene, I can be found sniffling and moaning at the injustice of it all. As LH would say, you should see this movie if you want to. Even though now I’ve given away the ending.

A note to scriptwriters, producers, directors and other Hollywood movers and shakers: Should anyone ever bring up the possibility of remaking The Way We Were starring, say, Jessica Biel and Ryan Reynolds, I will personally quit my day job and protest, Katie Morosky style, outside your shoot everyday until you are forced to shut down production. There are some things that should remain untouched.

Xenophobe

2011-08-31T17:06:00.000-05:00

xen·o·phobe

[zen-uh-fohb]

noun

a person who fears or hates foreigners, strange customs, etc.

Can you please use it in a sentence? Surely!

In the past, America celebrated the melding of cultures and was even fondly known as the melting pot; as such, it would be shameful if our nation elected a xenophobe as president of the United States of America in 2012.

Webinar

2011-08-31T17:01:00.000-05:00

Me: "So I was taking this webinar this morning and..."

Roommate: "I'm sorry, you were taking a WHAT?"

Me: "A webinar? Like an online seminar?"

Roommate: "You've got to be kidding me. Seriously. I am so not cut out for corporate life. That makes me want to die, Gina."

After considering Roommate taking a webinar, we cracked up. Roommate is not the type of gal to sit in a cube, or even at a desk near a window. She's meant to be on the go at all times, and that's one reason she'll be unstoppable in her chosen career path, nursing. There are many other reasons, too - she is smart, patient and kind but tough when she needs to be.

Roommate starts nursing school in just six days, and I'm so proud of her for shunning the cubicle/webinar lifestyle in favor of something that suits her better.

Personally, I kind of like webinars, provided they're interesting and not too sales-oriented. In fact, I was bummed when I had to miss one I'd signed up for today.

You're better than this, too, John Cleese.

Villains

2011-08-31T09:31:00.004-05:00

Earlier this week, my roommate and I called the police after witnessing what looked like two villains breaking the law.

First, we heard the sound of glass breaking. We looked up, but pretty much ignored it. Then, we heard more glass break and we rushed to our window to see what was going on in the street below. Across the street, a man was kicking in a door and breaking the glass window of the door. This seemed… strange. But not as strange as when another guy came out, also bashed the window in, then ran back into the building and tried to jump out his first floor (not ground floor, so it was about 7 feet up) window. Not able to break through on his first try, this second man straddled the window while working to bust it open and jump free. Once landing, he ran away.

As you can imagine, many expletives were being shouted the whole time. Glass covered the sidewalk and while it was dark, Roommate and I assumed there was a lot of blood, as well. We live on one of the busiest streets in Minneapolis, so clueless pedestrians were walking past the scene only seconds later, completely unaware that if they turned to their left, some crazy dude covered in blood might be running down the alley toward them.

This is why, even though the action had subsided, Roommate and I decided to call the police. I called 911, quickly informed the operator that it was not an emergency call, then described the incident in full detail, giving descriptive details of the two men we’d seen. (Actually, Roommate described them to me, and then I relayed them to the operator, because it became apparent during this crime watch that I am in need of glasses.)

Within five minutes, the men had returned to the scene, at the exact same time as a single cop car drove down the street. The window jumper taunted the cop, who must have called for backup and after quite a scuffle, the two men were apprehended. Then, being the Law and Order junkies that we are, we wondered if we should go to “give a statement.” I know. We’re losers. But there had been only one cop car dispatched to the scene, and now there were no fewer than eight cop cars outside our window, so it seemed like things had escalated to the point where perhaps we could clarify what had started the whole thing.

And so we went down there, flagged down a cop, and gave our report. I still don’t know if this was helpful, or necessary, but I suppose more info is always better in cases like this. Plus, we all know that in cop movies, they interview the people across the street with a good vantage point, so why not just jump the gun there, eh? We were thanked for our call and statement, and informed that we had been witnessing the tail end of a domestic dispute. While this was significantly less exciting than what we originally assumed had happened, I was still very glad that we took the initiative to call. It was apparent by the way they were taken into custody that help was needed, even if to just remove them from the situation and get everyone calmed down. Moreover, despite living in a busy hub of the city, I do consider my neighborhood safe and I’d like to keep it that way. Last, as Eric reminded me, I defied the bystander effect that everyone learns about in Psych 101 by calling in even though I wasn’t sure if it was necessary to do so.

Villains? Perhaps not. Still, something wacky happened and I’m glad that by being proactive, we helped to return the peace and minimize damage and injury.

(Source)

Unsuck-it.com

2011-08-29T17:10:00.000-05:00

Unsuck-it is an online dictionary that translates all the buzzwords, euphemisms and other corporate jargon people spit out in meetings. It is, in a word, fabulous.

Taylor Swift

2011-08-29T17:06:00.002-05:00

The thing about Taylor Swift is that I unabashedly love her. I went through a phase last winter where I thought she might be obnoxious, but then spring came, and I decided I didn't care what she was like because her music makes me really happy.

My friend Emily thinks this obsession is extremely entertaining because aside from my love for T-Swizzle, I tend to be a music bitch. I know I love Taylor Swift because she is everything I am not.

Taylor is blonde, tall and extremely lean; I'm brunette, of average height, and, in the words of another blonde pop goddess, my hips don't lie.

When Taylor is wronged by a dude, she publicly vilifies them for years through her songs; I once wrote a blog post detailing how proud I was of a breakup that was full of mutual respect and admiration.

Further, Taylor is committed to the idea of living a fairytale even though her interchangeable Prince Charmings seem to not be as committed as the Disney princes of yore. On the one hand, you want to shake her and say, "Listen sweetie, if you really can't see that John Mayer is going to use and abuse, then you need some serious counseling." On the other, you want to say, "Mad props on the multiple tabloid covers that publicly dogged him, and also the hit single."

The other thing I love about Taylor Swift is that despite her lyrics being annoyingly superficial, and not even making sense, I find myself belting them out. The best example:

Today was a fairytale - I wore a dress, you wore a dark grey t-shirt.
You told me I was pretty when I looked like a mess - today was a fairytale.

Girlfriend, what kind of dress were you wearing that it paled in comparison to Prince Charming's grey t-shirt? Did you sew it from a sheet or something? Did you fall into a mud pit while you were dancing and kissing in the rain? I mean, give some context. Or don't, I'll sing it anyway.

This will not end well. (Source)

Sing out

2011-08-29T17:05:00.000-05:00

I've had this version of this song on repeat the entire summer. Every time I listen to it, I find a new meaning. So far, I've convinced myself that it's about a religious conversion, a recovering addict fighting to stay sober, and a parent trying to teach their child about beauty and resilience in the face of devastation and loss. So you know, it's pretty upbeat.

Random roommates

2011-08-29T17:02:00.002-05:00

When I entered college seven years ago, I was paired to live in a dorm room with Annie, a girl I'd never met before. We talked on the phone once that summer, and I found out she was a soccer player from Duluth, MN. She later told me than (due to an error on my application), the roommate match letter said I was from Minneapolis instead of the suburb in which my parents actually resided.

"I was terrified to call you," she said meekly, a few days after we'd moved in and became fast pals. "I though you were going to be really ghetto and inner city - I thought you were a thug. Then I called you and you seemed bubbly and mentioned dance team, and I was super confused."

If Annie and I were matched today, she could have easily Facebooked me and found that I was neither ghetto nor thug. In fact, I was a lot like Annie - headstrong, easily excitable and 100% addicted to Dr. Pepper.

Instead, we had to navigate through the first few weeks of school rather awkwardly. After a few beers at a party, I got teary over the boy I was missing, and she walked me home early and talked me through it until 3 AM. When I found out that she (4'11" and no more than 90 lbs) was planning to walk home from her job at 11 p.m. three nights a week, I began walking there with another member of our floor to pick her up and escort her home.

We annoyed one another, I'm sure - the boy I was crying over soon became a regular weekend guest, and she had a love for Disney soundtracks that I could never quite get behind. Still, living with Annie was a fabulous experience. I found a partner in procrastination, late night studying and sleeping past alarms. We talked politics, religion, and other adult topics that I'd never once thought about only months before. Despite taking divergent paths the last few years of school, we still remain friendly and in sporadic contact.

As this article in the New York Times mentions, the "random roommate" match has largely become obselete, thanks to Facebook and other online tools that allow students to find roommates with similar backgrounds and interests. An NYU professor writes, "I am sad that most of my students will not experience what I did back when Mark Zuckerberg was in diapers. While the Internet has made it easy to reconnect with the lost [acquaintances] of our lives, it has made it a lot more difficult to meet them in the first place, by taking a lot of randomness out of life. We tend to value order and control over randomness, but when we lose randomness, we also lose serendipity."

This loss of serendipity is true, I think, and also so sad. I learned more in college outside the classroom than I did within it, from being placed in awkward situations that challenged who I thought I was and who I wanted to be. The bubble I'd always known and lived within was stretched and punctured, and I was left questioning, rather than accepting, what I'd been told was true.

Perhaps most importantly, the guy who walked with me to pick up Annie each Monday, Tuesday and Thursday was Joel. At first I was proud that the most popular guy on the floor wanted to walk with me - then, over the course of those few months, over 10:30 p.m. chai tea lattes at Espresso Royale, we became inseparable confidantes. Because of those walks, we shared Joel's first walk during a snowfall, detouring for several additional blocks so he could properly catch and melt snowflakes on his tongue. We crafted a plan for him to come out to his dad. We locked ourselves in his room to watch movies the night our whole floor went out together before spring break. We laughed each time he arrived, pillow in hand, to sleep on our floor after his roommate had brought home yet another girl.

You can see, without my random roommate, I'd have missed out on so many important life experiences. So I'm pretty bummed that the incoming freshman of the future will arrive not only to gleaming new dorms with bathrooms in each unit, but also to a fresh-faced roommate who looks and acts just like them. Where's the fun in that?

Quit

2011-08-29T13:15:00.004-05:00

I'm not going to quit this blogging challenge, even though I'm approximately ten days behind. Much like ProntoPup, I'm probably just going to blitz the internets with ten posts in the next three days and then be done with it.

This poster gives good inspiration:

Did you know this poster also led to many amusing recreations like these?

and eventually the fun-haters tried to put a stop to it with this vicious recreation:

Pug

2011-08-24T13:16:00.003-05:00

One of my favorite people to follow on Twitter is Killorn. She's truly hilarious, and I am a huge creep for writing this post because I do not even remotely know her. That's the internet, right? Anyway, I was struggling for a "P" post, but remembered that Killorn yesterday posted about her pug, Morty.

Here's Morty wearing a Tina Turner wig:

Photo Credit

Here's an article about Morty wearing a Tina Turner wig. Excerpt:

“Now, no matter what happens today, it won't be as bad as it could've been. Because your day started out with Morty, a five-year-old pug wearing a Tina Turner wig.”

Truer words were never written.

If that's not enough for you, here's Morty's personal blog, Tuesdays with Morty.

Om Nashi Me

2011-08-23T14:17:00.004-05:00

If, for some reason, I was dropped into the middle of a dense jungle with only a machete to hack my way out, and an iPod programmed with only one song to play on repeat for motivation, I would choose this song. And I would succeed with the task in record time.

It is also great for driving on highways.

Napoleon Dynamite

2011-08-22T15:41:00.004-05:00

This movie came out around my freshman year of college and despite a constant onslaught of reenactment among my peers, and the general acceptance that it was "THE BEST MOVIE EVER", I never saw it.

From the clips I saw and the nasally, disaffected "Tina! Come get your ham!"-s that rang through my dorm at all hours, I just had a feeling that this movie was not for me. Also, as a fan of Tina Majorino's early work (Andre is a cinematic masterpiece*), I was highly disturbed to see my childhood girlcrush looking so brutal.

I quickly learned not to tell people I hadn't seen the movie, because they'd look at me like I was growing antlers, or accuse me of "hating fun". I politely laughed when a guy I was mildly interested in spent 15 minutes reenacting the scene where Kip scopes out hot chicks online, but I stopped texting him back.

Anyway, I never saw more than a few clips of Napoleon Dynamite. Then it came on in my hotel this weekend as I was packing, and I decided to leave it on for a bit. After about 20 minutes, I came to a shocking realization. I knew almost every line. The parts about feeding Tina, the Glamour shots lie, getting three feet of air off the bike jump, Rex Kwon Do, Napoleon needing Deb to get her product out of his locker to make room for his nun chucks. I had been exposed to the material so many times that not one scene held a shred of originality in my eyes. I don't even know how that's possible, but it's true.

My other conclusion, which was less shocking, was that I hated this movie even more than I thought I would. To be fair, I'd passively been hating it for seven years, so it really didn't stand a chance. Still, I forced myself to turn it off before I got retroactively rageful at the kids on my dorm floor who (when they weren't KY-Jelly wrestling one another in the common room) had apparently ingrained each line deeply into the recesses of my mind. Bastards.

N is for Napoleon Dynamite - if you tell me in the comments to give it another chance, I'm likely to take you out with my bo staff.

___

*While reflecting on Tina Majorino in Andre, I suddenly realized that her dad in the film is none other than the actor who played special agent Frank Lundy on Dexter. Is your head exploding right now, too?

Mature

2011-08-19T09:21:00.006-05:00

My boss and I are extremely mature human beings. That's why, after our web team launched our new website this week, we celebrated by heading down to our photo studio to take part in the latest photo craze, horsemanning:

Bizarre photo trends are all the rage right now - it began with planking:

Photo Credit

and has moved onto owling:

Photo Credit

and patching:

Photo Credit

and now, we're at horsemanning. After much discussion, my boss and I decided that owling and patching are inferior to planking and horsemanning. Simply crouching in a corner or covering an eye is not at all embarrassing, and therefore not worthy of accolades or internet fame.

There are a lot of haters on these trends - some are claiming they're dangerous (heh?), while the pop culture obsessed (read: hipsters) are already declaring them "so yesterday."

Me? Just as I was a sucker for flash mobs, I'm a sucker for dumb photo memes. In a world where everyone's a bit Too Cool For School, I find it refreshing to see so many people dedicated to making fools of themselves in public. What do you think?

Lewis, Jenny

2011-08-18T10:06:00.006-05:00

As a kid, it didn't get bigger than a weekly trip to The Movie Store (seriously, that was the name of the movie store. We hadn't quite hit Blockbuster status yet). Each Friday night, my older brother and I would accompany my dad to The Movie Store, which was followed by a trip to the drugstore in the same strip mall, for candy.

One of our favorite joint movies was "The Wizard," which stars Fred Savage, Luke Edwards and an utterly brilliant (depending on your definition) Jenny Lewis. The quick plot: Luke is a young boy placed in an institution after the death of his twin sister. His brother, Fred Savage, helps to break him out of said institution and they go on the run to California - "California" being the only word Luke has uttered since his sister's death. Meanwhile, their loving father (Beau Bridges!) comes looking for them, as does an evil runaway child bounty hunter.

On the road, they met up with Jenny Lewis, a badass runaway who quickly realizes that Luke is a Nintendo prodigy. In an effort to convince their parents that Luke should not be institutionalized, Luke and Fred agree to enter him in a Nintendo competition that happens to be located in California (A foolproof plan if I've ever heard one.). The trio spends the rest of the movie dodging the bounty hunter and other unsavory characters, as they hustle their way across the country to the competition. Without spoiling the ending, it's worth noting that the game being played in the final round of the competition is... the newly released (at the time) SUPER MARIO BROTHERS 3. As you can see, The Wizard is a timeless classic, provided you were born between the years 1983 and 1987.

I must have watched The Wizard fifty times in my childhood, along with Jenny Lewis' other big films, Troop Beverly Hills and Big Girls Don't Cry. Girly girl that I was, I loved that Jenny always played a hardened tomboy with negligent parents.

Imagine my surprise when I found out in 2005 that Jenny Lewis was the lead singer of one of my favorite bands, Rilo Kiley! I pretty much lost it.

Here's my favorite scene from The Wizard:

And here's my favorite Jenny Lewis song, though I'm not sure what the backstory on the video is:

I think she made the right call on joining the music scene, and on keeping her childhood bangs intact.

Jenny Lewis, thank you for 20 years of entertainment. You're a goddess.

Key takeaways

2011-08-17T11:36:00.003-05:00

*Written on Monday AM*

What's up, party people?! I'm coming off a late night event, and I'm running largely on coffee (shocking) and 45 minutes of sleep (for real, I better not get stuck next to a chatter on my plane).

Last night was chaos, but also a lot of fun. Pretty much every possible thing went wrong, but I bobbed, weaved, and deferred to a guy with much more knowledge than me, in order to get through. Overall, attendance was high, revenue was high, and the attendees looked like they were having the time of their lives. So despite some of the very real problems that arose, I'm excited to take on next week's event, which I'll be running solo.

Post-event, we talked a lot about "key takeaways." Without getting too detailed, my events are run in big box stores across the country. While I'd like to say that my key takeaway was how to master a pallet jack to move product in the back storeroom, the truth is that I sweet talked lots of dudes into moving stuff for me yesterday.

At 2 AM, I coaxed my main man Carlos into moving three final pallets to the loading dock.

"Man! I see you've already mastered the art of flirting with the back room guys," my co-producer laughed.

In truth, I was at a keen disadvantage - during our initial conversation, it became apparent that Carlos would rather discuss the relationship statuses of the attractive male members of my team. Huzzah! No eyelash batting was necessary, and I got in a good gossip session on the freight elevator with my new BFF. Also, I taught Carlos the Z-snap.

There were other key takeaways that were less exciting, but will prove more beneficial as I enter Event Markets 2, 3, and 4. I'll be reviewing those in the next few days, and then diving in headfirst on Saturday. Wish me luck!

John Thune

2011-08-16T14:48:00.007-05:00

Today, while discussing the Iowa straw polls with a co-worker, I mentioned how shocked I (still) am that John Thune is not running as a Republican candidate for president. For those of you who've never heard of him, Thune is a South Dakota Senator who beat out Tom Daschle for his seat in 2004. He's 50, a former college athlete, an evangelical, and he's authored some doozy gun rights bills. He's only been married once, and his name isn't associated with any sex acts. Also, he looks like this:

When he's trying out his sexy librarian look, he looks like this:

I truly don't understand how it's possible that this man isn't running. Has he really just been sitting in South Dakota, watching his neighbors Bachmann and Pawlenty dance the crazy tango?

I know next to nothing about the strategy of entering and exiting the presidential race. Perhaps it's too late for a guy who's more substance than flash to enter this cycle's ideologically driven Republican primary. However, I just have a feeling that Thune, or someone like him, is being prepped by the Republican establishment to come in and take the race over once the nutters exhaust themselves.

No, I didn't wake up a Republican this morning and no, I'd never vote for this guy. I just think it would be a victory for the whole country if we had two educated candidates bringing conscientious discourse back into presidential politics. Can you imagine if we had two policy wonks going at it in the debates, instead of incendiary, talking-point obsessed bobbleheads? The heads of the Fox News blondies, and Al Sharpton, would explode. Soundbites might have to be a whole 45-seconds due to the nuances being discussed. Perhaps most importantly, people would realize that politics is actually kind of a dry topic, after you take out gay marriage and abortion. The mainstream media would lose advertising dollars due to low interest and... as a result, election night could be free of Will.I.Am holograms.

On the other hand, my liberal-minded amigos remind me that the current field is good news for our bedraggled Obama. And there are few things I want more in life than to see what a lame duck Obama could accomplish. So perhaps I should count my blessings that Crazy Eyes is leading the pack right now. I just don't think it speaks very highly of our country.

Politicos with knowledge of campaign entry strategy - am I way off-base? Is it too late for someone with a lower profile to enter the race? If not, is there someone else you think is going to pop in? Most importantly, who's going to buy me a cookie if I somehow end up being right about this?

Ignorant tight-ass club

2011-08-12T09:48:00.003-05:00

I didn't watch the Republican debate last night - partially because I don't have cable, and partially because I try to avoid activities which cause me to pull my hair out (I have so little to begin with).

I did catch some soundbites, which was a terrible idea. While I imagine much of the night was spent one-upping one another to determine the rightiest of the right, I also know that if a quote makes the 60-second clip wrap-up of a two-hour debate, it's probably pretty damn inflammatory.

So rather than spending my night wondering how my beloved Minnesota could produce two Republican presidential candidates who are equally incompetent in different ways, I watched my favorite clip from The West Wing.

(If I were on the communications team for the Obama reelection committee, I'd commit this clip to memory. You're going to need some serious vitriol to combat these fools.)

Hipsters

2011-08-11T12:59:00.007-05:00

I live in an area populated with a lot of hipsters. Many times, I’ve been confused as to whether the person walking by is a hipster or a 20-something dressed as my 5^th grade geography teacher. Last week, I saw a woman in a baggy black cotton turtleneck, black mom jeans (tapered, high-waisted, and ill-fitting all over), caramel colored orthopedic shoes, and an across-the-shoulder bag with cat embroidery. She was, of course, wearing glasses that looked like this:

Photo credit

Much like the fake rastafarians that ruled my high school in the early ‘00s, I think hipsters spend a lot of money to look like they don't have any money. This frustrates me, as I'm the girl who tries to make Target clothing look fancy.

To be fair, not all hipsters look like your grade school librarian - some are super cute, and might lead you to say things like, "Could I ever rock teal high-waisted denim pants?" The answer to that question should almost always be no.

Don't discount hipsters trends all together, though. For example, my roommate just purchased these shorts from Anthropologie:

She got them hemmed so they, in her words, looked "a little less Troop 172 leader and a little more 1940's pin-up." She looks fabulous in them - huzzah! Long live high-waisted bottoms that are somehow flattering!

Where was I? This is a very disjointed post. Let's return back to the golden rules of fashion. Coco Chanel once said, “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and remove one accessory.”

I think hipsters and budding hipsters might need a similar guideline. How about:

"Before leaving the house, remove clothing items and/or facial hair patterns until your appearance is less than 30% ironic in nature."

Photo Credit

If ironic math isn't your bag, follow this rule: If the golden couple ^ of hipster fashion would not wear what you're wearing, take it off.

Gold (in the air of summer)

2011-08-09T17:02:00.001-05:00

My friend introduced me to Kings of Convenience three years ago. They have a song called "Gold in the air of summer" that is positively hypnotic. At the end of the day, don't we all want to be in the throes of young, inexperienced love, en route to a secret getaway at an abandoned beach house?

Yes, I think we do.

Freelance

2011-08-09T10:43:00.011-05:00

Over the last year, I’ve freelanced for three local marketing and advertising agencies. I love freelancing because it usually fosters a symbiotic relationship – I get great experience for my resume, a natural opportunity to network with other people in my field, and a little financial padding. The agency who hires me gets short-term, relatively cheap labor from someone they trust. The recession has caused my industry to reevaluate the need for full-time employees, which is a major source of anxiety for my marketing amigos. One upside of the downsizing is that freelancing opportunities are (at least in my experience) relatively easy to come by.

My third project this year is coming to a head, and I’ll be traveling the next four weekends to produce events in some pretty baller cities. My easy-going nature is a benefit in many event situations – I am an expert at rolling with the punches. However, the events I’m producing this month are very structured, and may require me to push back if things don’t go as planned.

Much like Beyonce has created Sasha Fierce as her onstage persona, I’ve decided the best way to approach these events is to create a badass event alter ego.

So far, I’ve come up with Badd Roxy. I think it needs some work, to be honest. Any suggestions? Please leave them in the comments. Having a perfect name is really the first step to rocking these events, I think.

The third picture is my go-to dance move, actually. Unfortunately, it is usually performed in yoga pants and a t-shirt instead of a mesh, House of Dereon two-piece ensemble.

Oh! And here’s a list of freelancing tips I published a few months ago.

Eggs

2011-08-07T19:23:00.002-05:00

Today, I made a baked frittata. Actually, I took all the about-to-go bad veggies out of my fridge, chopped them up, and threw them in a pan with the rest of my eggs, then I threw it in the oven. When I was trying to tell Eric about my culinary masterpiece, I couldn’t remember the word for frittata.

Master chef that he is, he kept throwing egg jargon at me. Strata? Omelette? Souffle? Scramble? Quiche?

When I described what I had in the oven, he deemed it an egg bake. I think frittata sounds less like a Midwestern housewife readying herself for a potluck at the VFW, so I’m going with that.

Photo Credit

Devil's advocate

2011-08-07T19:16:00.001-05:00

I don't remember where I heard it, but someone (probably Jon Stewart) once said, "If you say you're playing devil's advocate, you're really just saying you're going to play an asshole." I think this is hilarious, and almost always true.

Earlier this week, I sent Eric this segment from the Today Show. It discusses a new phenomena where young women go on "Sugar Daddy" websites to find older, wealthy gentleman who will help pay off their loans or otherwise compensate them in exchange for (ahem) companionship. The women, called Sugar Babies, were touted as yet another byproduct of the crippling recession.

I was surprised by the segment - surprised that one of the women profiled was a Sarah Lawrence grad, that there were hundreds of thousands of women signed up, that the women weren't considering their faux-mances to be prostitution.

I said to Eric, Sarah Lawrence birthed the feminist movement! How is this even possible?!

Eric said he agreed, but he was going to play devil's advocate. Boo. He wondered, Could the women have different values than you? Perhaps they can justify and even become empowered by their role, rather than allowing it to defeat them?

No! I cried. Being a sexual object is never empowering. Empowerment is all about engaging in your chosen behavior with no strings attached. Saying that women might gain empowerment by sleeping with older men is no different than saying that women shouldn't feel denigrated if their bosses hit on them.

That's when Eric told me I was coming at this issue from a white, middle class, Judeo-Christian perspective. That's the problem with feminism - it assumes we all have the same values, backgrounds, and goals.

I've had this argument about a hundred times - hell, I majored in this argument. However, it doesn't ever get any easier. Also, the longer you're away from Emily Dickinson essays and classrooms full of women advocating for transgender bathrooms in preschools, the harder it gets to fight the good fight. Even when you're just fighting with someone on your side, playingdevil's advocate.

So, in the beginning there was basic modern feminism, which stated that women had the right to control their bodies. And now, we've added an asterisk, where we remind women that selling their bodies in exchange for a lifestyle upgrade is simply a new way to relinquish that control. In ten years (in ten days, probably), there will be another way in which sexuality is being used as a commodity, and I'll fight that, too.

Whew. After we finished discussing the horror that was the Sugar Babies, we somehow segued to planning a Rick Moranis marathon. That was a much more fun topic, to tell the truth. But this was an important one.

Coach

2011-08-07T18:56:00.006-05:00

For the past two seasons, I was an assistant coach for my high school's dance team - the same team I once danced on, years ago. Though I'd never considered until I was approached, I quickly fell in love with the team, and my role within the coaching staff.

My favorite moment of coaching came early last season, when my gals were having an off day. They weren’t just listless, they looked straight up miserable each time they performed the routine - and we still had two hours of practice remaining. I turned on a shitty pop 40 song - I think it was something by Christina Aguilera - and for five glorious minutes, we had an all-out dance party across the floor in the school cafeteria. One girl, in between gasps of laughter, exclaimed, “This is the most fun I’ve EVER had dancing!” and my heart leapt. We returned to practice, and while we weren’t overly productive, I’m pretty sure no one cried on the way home that night. That, my friends, is beyond successful - we’re talking about 29 high school girls, after all.

I worked to achieve a personal relationship with each member of my team, while also maintaining their respect. I developed individual talent while merging that into a synchronized unit that excelled at each competition. The girls adored one another, and I knew our team was a place in which they felt comfortable and liked. It didn’t hurt that we won - a lot. While the coaching staff stressed that improvement was our only goal, we secretly squealed alongside them as we were announced in the top three at most competitions.

I think I might be better at coaching than I am at almost anything else. So when the head coaches retired this year, and I wasn’t hired as the new head coach, I was simultaneously bewildered and devastated. Being passed over felt personal, even if it wasn’t. Coaching had become a core part of my identity, and then it was gone.

As when anything else ends prematurely, I still have “coaching tics” - I choreograph in my head, take mental notes of good color combinations for costumes, bookmark songs for potential routines. I’m sure that will go away, but I’m also not ruling out a return with a different team in the future. It would be strange to coach a team that isn’t such a unique part of my own personal history, but to not coach would be the strangest feeling of all.

Here's the world's worst photo ever taken of me - I'm cheering on the gals at last year's state tournament. IRL, I do not have a hook nose or multiple chins. I also don't usually wear paisley button-ups, but we were doing a boogie dance... (Photo Credit)

Bowery

2011-08-07T18:37:00.009-05:00

Thanks to my lovely friend TMW, I just listened to a story on the last of the flophouses on the Bowery in New York. For as little as $5 a night, men can rent a cubicle in these hotels, which are described by one hotel manager as “the last stop.” The conditions described are pretty intense - in the Sunshine Hotel, men live in 4 x 6 cubicles, with chicken wire ceilings.

Despite this, the guests at these hotels tend to stay there for months, years, and even decades. One man, who first arrived as a teenager, has lived there for over 20 years and now refuses to leave the premise at all. He pays another resident to run errands for him. When he starts to feel like he is missing the outside world, he opens his window to feel fresh air, and the desire diminishes.

It seems like these hotels become almost like black holes for the residents - though many entered at a relatively young age, they eventually resigned themselves to the reality of never leaving. I always find that type of collective resignation interesting. What is it about a place that can cause it to extinguish hope?

The story originally aired in 1998 on NPR, and I know this area of New York has been undergoing gentrification over the last few decades. I was interested to see if these hotels are still operating. This website says the Sunshine Hotel's sign has recently been removed, as part of a diner renovation on the first floor. It seems like the hotel's days might be numbered - I wonder if the shut-in residents are still there, or if they've already moved on.

Photo Credit

Anonymous

2011-08-04T20:39:00.007-05:00

A blogging challenge? Ooh, shiny. I'm in.

This blog was never anonymous - I always used my first name, I eventually added a picture. I namedropped my undergrad institution, my industry, the dance team I used to coach. However, I wasn't exactly posting the link to the base of my email, either.

Then a few months ago, I googled my name and BAM! A wooden nickel was staring right back at me. Some well-meaning close friends had called me by my last name in the comments, thereby leading to the unwanted connection. At first, I totally panicked. Then I stopped blogging - as if by having only back entries in which I assail one of two political parties, the problem would cease to exist.

Then I confronted the problem head on. I started to read past entries, and found that despite all the opinions I tend to spout, I also have advocated more often than not for some common ground. This blog has also been evidence of my employment history, my passions, and my obsession with coffee (someday, that will pay off).

So after the panic, I got really zen about the whole thing. It is what it is, right? My official opinion on the topic (which is not endorsed by job recruiters, so if you're in the hunt, stop reading this entry) is Ain't nobody gonna break my stride... it could be worse... at least my employers now have verification of my literacy... something about the First Amendment.

Prayer for an urban renter

2011-08-02T17:15:00.005-05:00

Dear God,

Please don’t take me (out of the city) just yet. It’s not yet my time (to move to the suburbs). While I understand that everyone must eventually go, I am still holding out hope that you will save me (from corpse-colored carpeting and split-level entrances).

It’s true, there are more important things in the world than my selfish plea for more time (in a neighborhood with six coffeeshops within walking distance). I can’t expect you to grant the wish of each young woman (wishing to remain in a vintage building only blocks away from a quiet urban lake). And certainly, God, I’d be willing to make a compromise (St. Louis Park would be okay). All I ask is that you refrain from sending me to the eternal sleep (of a complex with a name like “Sunnydale Apartments”).

And if I may, God, ask just one more thing. If you choose to spare me (by sending a link to an affordable, brownstone 1br my way via Padmapper), can you also be sure to bless me with kind neighbors who treat others as they want to be treated (sharing wi-fi never killed anyone)?

Amen.

I tried to blog yesterday

2011-06-15T21:05:00.001-05:00

I tried to blog yesterday, but on the way to the coffeeshop across the street from my apartment, I tripped and my skirt flew clear over my head, exposing my nether regions to the smirky hipster patrons camped outside.

Undeterred, I got into my car to drive to a coffeeshop up the street - the sky looked ominous, and I didn't want to ruin my computer. By the time I was parallel parking two mjnutes later, on Hennepin Ave (a busy street, non-Minnesotans), it was pouring rain. A bus honked at me and I got a little flustered. Right as I was thinking about how smart I was not to have walked now that it was raining, I leaned in to lock my door manually while slamming the door closed to avoid an SUV driving past.

That's when I heard my car idling. I was locked out of my still-running car. While at 5:32, I had assumed my post-faceplant mortification was as bad as it was going to get, it was at 5:35 when I called a locksmith to open my car for me at the cost of $60 that I really hit rock-bottom for the day.

In actuality, the escapade's total cost was $67, as I chose to purchase a very sugary latte and a cookie the size of my head to comfort me as I waited.

When my dad called me later, he laughed and told me that I had just "pulled a [our last name]" so apparently this has happened a time or twenty in the past. I'm not sure if that made me feel better or worse.

Also, that still doesn't explain why I keep falling down in public. Perhaps in addition to the car running lockout, wiping out is a fun new trait I'll pass down to my ever-so-lucky and graceful children.

Hey, unconceived spawn who faceplant in public - you were born into a world where Michele Bachmann has declared a not-so-absurd presidential candidacy. If the worst thing about your lives is the propensity to eat dirt, you're better off than in my wildest dreams.

(P.S. Don't believe them when they say they're close to making hovercraft highways. They've been saying that for decades, and the most exciting development we've gotten in transportation since the '70s is the ability to wrap buses for advertisements.)

Tips for a healthy and stable relationship

2011-05-25T12:50:00.002-05:00

Kim Kardashian is engaged to a dude I had a crush on back in the day. By that, I mean that I have never met him, but he was a local basketball star and I had a picture of him from the local newspaper taped on my bedroom wall. It was next to a picture of the Hanson brothers. He seemed more accessible, at the time, than the Hanson brothers, because he lived twenty minutes from me. Let's all chew on that lesson of fleeting fame for just a minute.

Anyway, this is what he looked like back then:

Smoking hot, right?

Recently, Eric told me that he had played baseball with him back in the day.

"I was up against him once in a running drill. He was so tall that I was convinced he was going to be crazy uncoordinated. Then he smoked me. I blamed it on my asthma, but he was just really freaking fast."

"Gosh," I said, pointing at a ridiculous sexualized pic of Kim in a tabloid we were looking through. "How does it feel to know that if you'd just run a little bit faster, you'd be dating this right now?"

Instead, we were sitting in my rented apartment, on a couch that a couple gave away for free after their kids went gangbusters on it with a pink highlighter. Later, we'd survey the contents of my fridge and determine they were just dire enough to justify a trip to Punch Pizza.

As I doused my Mimi in extra olive oil, I dug in one last time on this pressing issue.

"You know, if you'd run faster, you'd be in LA right now. You'd probably be at a premiere, on the red carpet, and your official duty would be to make sure Kim's fake butt implants didn't fall out of her dress."

"BUTT IMPLANTS?" he asked incredulously.

"That's not even the half of it. She'd also never eat this delicious combination of carbs, cheese, and oil with you. She'd make you drink a QuickTrim shake for dinner, in front of 10,000 cameras. Man are you lucky you were a slow runner with debilitating asthma."

Then, as promised, I ate the whole pizza. It's important to keep promises when you're in a relationship.

I fought Lent!Blog! and Lent!Blog! won

2011-04-28T16:37:00.006-05:00

Perhaps four days after Easter is a good time to come back to the blogosphere, tail between my legs, to apologize for not having finished the epic blogging challenge that was Lent!Blog!

Back in the day, when I read crappy teen mags like Seventeen, there were often really pointless quizzes that my friends and I delighted ourselves with while tanning at the pool. For example, a question from the quiz "Can he tell you're into him?" would have read:

You meet up with some friends at the mall, and when it's time to go home, one guy you've been talking with asks if you'd like to hang out sometime. You:

a) write down your pager number*, screenname*, home phone number*, and address*, and tell him to call you that night

b) agree that would be great and give him one good way to contact you

c) say "sure" and that he can get your number from one of his friends - they all have it

After answering several inane questions like this, Seventeen, in its infinite wisdom, would tell you where you landed:

Mostly a's: Girl! Tone it down a bit! It's great that you like this guy, but it's never a turn-on to be too available. Lighten up, and you'll have him calling you in no time.

Mostly b's: You know it's sexy to be casual but flirty, and you're hitting your perfect mark. Don't forget to turn it up a notch once you've got him.

Mostly c's: You've taken "hard to get" to a whole new level - how is anyone supposed to feel confident around the Ice Queen?! Open up and let him see the fun side of you.

I have a point, and it's not to get you wondering when in the hell I traded teen mags for Contemporary Feminist Theory. My point is that even before you took the quiz, you knew where you'd stand. Right in the middle - the other sides of the spectrum were just too off-kilter.

That's kind of how I feel about Lent!Blog! When it comes to both blogging and religion, my interest in participation shifts between "avid" and "when it's convenient". So if you'd told me 45 days ago that I'd start out strong and then completely forget for the last few days, I wouldn't have been shocked. Still, I wish I would have sacked up and finished it off with gusto.

Anyway, thanks for tuning in and thanks to those who participated! It was super fun!

Do not let your daughters read this garbage.

* What up, 1999!

And we're back

2011-04-20T11:32:00.004-05:00

Hey did you know Easter hasn't yet happened? My bad, Lent!Blog! participants and beloved readers.

I had a dream last night that I was on a blind date with a man who informed me that the Winkelvoss twins were the true inventors of Facebook. Indignantly, I said something along the lines of "I know Mark Zuckerberg, and the Winklevosses are NOT Mark Zuckerberg." Then I threw my napkin on the table and walked out. It was riveting stuff. I felt like the world's saddest person when I woke up. Is this really what occupies the deep recesses of my mind?

Anyway, it brought up an interesting point - in my dream, my dating litmus test was apparently the ~~age-old~~ totally ridiculous conflict between three rich kids from Harvard.

What is your dating litmus test? Explain. Have you ever broken it for *swoon* true love?

IRL, I have a thousand dating litmus tests, the majority of which were first decided my junior year of college during an epic conversation with my friend Emily. Some of them are silly - no puka shells, for god's sake! - and some of them were more serious - I remember wishing for someone who was neither godless nor born-again. Some were depressing to even have to write down (the carpenter jean is dead, fellas. Unless your job requires that you have a loop on your jeans, you need to retire them. Preferably this would be accomplished via a bonfire, and you should invite the ex-girlfriends who stood by you through thick and thin, light-wash utility denim to give the eulogy).

Now, at the ripe old age of 25, I know all the above doesn't mater. Emily is madly in love with someone who loves both puka shells AND carpenter jeans, for example. And I've had fascinating conversations with guys who sit on both sides of the religious spectrum. Some dealbreakers aren't as black and white once you're in the thick of a relationship, but there is one I cannot bend on.

My biggest litmus test is how guys talk about the LGBT community. I have no patience for anyone who uses derogatory slang, or who can't have an intelligent discussion on gay rights. The "you're so gay" slams, still a popular favorite among some guys stuck in high school ten years later, are an unbelievable turnoff. Alternately, those who can engage in thoughtful conversation about this topic are usually mature, intelligent, and confident in themselves. All of those are, naturally, turn-ons.

In the end, it comes down to this - I've got this guy on a pedestal:

And anyone who doesn't believe that he deserves every happiness under the law, doesn't deserve to date me.

Day 36: Peek in the life

2011-04-16T19:09:00.003-05:00

Share a convo or snippet of your day.

This morning, about four hours after I'd woken up, I found a piece of sleep in my eye.

"Did you see I had sleep in my eye? Why didn't you tell me? Gross," I said to Eric.

"I dunno. It wasn't that bad," he responded.

A few minutes later, he reached over to poke at something below my eye.

"More sleep?!" I asked.

"I thought so. I think it's actually a pimple, though."

Then we both went back to reading and drinking coffee. Not exactly the stuff of a Taylor Swift song, but I'm sure someday soon we'll get caught dancing in a rainstorm while I'm wearing a sundress, and it'll all work itself out.

Day 35: Strange (online) bedfellows

2011-04-15T17:15:00.002-05:00

Who is the most random person you follow online? Choose someone you don't know, don't know how you found, or even someone you love to hate. Why do you do it?

I've been wanting to write a post about this for months. I follow Mike Tyson on Twitter. I should really hate Mike Tyson, and I think in many ways I do. But he's also unbelievably interesting, and his transparent quest for grace over the past few years has been undeniably compelling.

Let's look at the facts: the man was convicted of rape in the 90's, and of spousal abuse in a marriage that his ex-wife called "torture, pure hell." He has eight children, from multiple women, and until recently, has said that he felt no reason to be faithful to his girlfriends or wives. Oh and he bit a man's ear off.

Mike Tyson is a terrible human being, certainly. But he's the first one to admit that now.

"The first stage of my life was just a whole bunch of selfishness. Just a whole bunch of gifts to myself and people who didn't necessarily deserve it. Now I'm 44, and I realize that my whole life is just a fucking waste... So if there's a big plan now, it's just to give—it's selflessness, caring for the people who deserve it. Because I think I'm a pig. I have this uncanny ability to look at myself in the mirror and say, 'This is a pig. You are a fucking piece of shit.'" - Details magazine, Aug. 2010

Tyson was raised amidst violence, and then made a career out of what he calls "wanting to kill, maim" people - he says that all good boxers are trained to act like monsters in the ring. Then he took this lifestyle outside the ring, and he lost everything because of it. When his daughter died tragically in 2009, he reevaluated his life and has since dedicated himself to a full, lifelong recovery from drug and alcohol addiction, as well as his admitted rage issues.

In a culture where we seem to forgive and forget horrific acts committed by the rich and famous (Vick's lauded NFL comeback, Sheen's current sold-out tour) after minimal apology or retribution, I think it's admirable that Tyson is consistently working to apologize for his past transgressions rather than ignore them. (Perhaps he could tutor Chris Brown?)

He tweets about philosophy and his new vegan lifestyle, of sitting with his wife while she breastfeeds their child. On a recent trip to Prague, he wished to be at home with his kids. He talks often about how his wife's love is the greatest gift he's been given, and that he doesn't feel he deserves it. I really want to believe it's not an act, even after his account this week changed from gratitude to promotion of his new iPhone game.

Why am I so invested in his recovery? I think it stems from knowing the inherent narcissism of addicts firsthand; Tyson represents the post-addiction stage that friends and families of addicts always wish for, but aren't ever sure is possible.

Last week he tweeted, "I'm glad I grew up to be a human being, instead of a millionaire or billionaire."

I hope that first part is true, though I suspect he's still a millionaire.

Day 34: Thursday Joy

2011-04-14T12:12:00.004-05:00

What's making you happy today?

For the last few days, I've been basking in the glow of a supremely clean apartment. All credit for this goes to my roommate, who spent her day off doing some major scrubbing and slight redecorating in our humble abode.

As usual, I'm 8-10 months late on the Instagram trend, and even with their awesome application my pictures still look kinda sad. Nevertheless, look at how adorable our apartment is, just in time for a late spring!

This table brings me so much joy.

People watching from the breakfast nook is heaven.

Everyone should have a chalkboard dedicated to Mason Jennings lyrics.

Happy Thursday, amigos. But seriously, can it be Friday at 5 PM yet?

Day 33: Share some expertise

2011-04-13T12:20:00.002-05:00

All of us here at Lent!Blog! have relatively different backgrounds. Share some advice/expertise that you think others could benefit from.

Last year I took on a six month freelance project, and I also coach on the side for five months out of the year. So far, I've found that I'm pretty good at balancing my regular career and life with my tack-on money makers. Here's what I've learned that other people might benefit from if they're thinking of freelancing or taking on a second job.

1. Establish ground rules for Job 2.0
My main rule is that Job 2.0 can't detract from Job 1.0. I can’t attend daytime meetings, can't look at project docs after 9 and before 5. (With dance, I leave work early a few times a week, but I give my boss a schedule of these days a week in advance.)

2. Follow up regularly
Unlike your 9-5, a freelance client isn’t able to walk by and see what you’re working on. If you have an impending freelance deadline, check in frequently. You’ll know you have the most up-to-date info on the project, and your client won’t be worried that you are leaving everything to the last minute.

3. Schedule meet-ups in the flesh, if possible
Again, water cooler chats are out of the question. By scheduling a weekly meeting you can be certain to go over your impending schedule live, negotiate any prior commitments that might get in the way (which in emails can seem demanding but in person are easier to get across), and get to the details that would take seven bullet points and serious color coding in email. Plus for god’s sake people, face to face interaction won’t kill you.

4. Take notes
From phone meetings, live meetings, and in my case, notes on events gone bad/good. If you’re working full-time plus, you’re going to be exhausted. Your brain won’t remember the little details, and you’ll be more likely to drop the ball on something. Notes ensure that you can keep up to speed on everything without feeling like you’re on overload.

5. Don’t overschedule the rest of your life
As much as possible, keep your schedule flexible. Usually my friends/family/boyfriend understand that I can’t participate in hastily planned activities, but I hate missing the spontaneous fun. My advice is to map out big things you want to attend, and stick to them. If you make sure to schedule in cabin weekends, date nights and family dinners, you’ll be less upset when you have to miss last minute happy hours or movie nights.

6. Wake up early
During the dance season, I'm often gone from 8 AM until 10 PM, so there is no room for poor planning. When I leave for work in the morning I’m stocked with the day’s food supply, a multitude of layering options, practice plans and handouts, workout gear... and a cup of coffee I had enough time to brew, ensuring that I feel good about the day ahead.

7. Double your coffee budget
Well, not really. But consider the cost of taking on the project - for me, both dance and freelancing meant a lot of gas money, as well as on-the-fly meals and extra coffee purchases. If you’re being paid an hourly rate, ask yourself how much of that will be used to cover your own sanity and driving costs. If it’s significant, reevaluate the value of the project. And always work on ways to cut down your own bottom line- accept rides to carpool with team members if you have them, keep a stash of Clif bars handy for when you have to miss a meal, make friends with the evening baristas in the hopes of scoring an upgraded drink.

8. Know that it’s all going to come crashing down
I’m not Type A, so I can handle the inevitable moment of crushing defeat pretty well. There are inevitable work-work conflicts, days when I forget lunch, pep rallies I have to supervise using PTO. As my very smart friend Greta (and, I learned, her good friend Ma$e) like to say, “Breathe, Stretch, Shake, Let it Go”. We’re probably not programmed to work full-time plus while balancing social lives, personal time, and acceptable hygiene standards. So when you mess up, make sure to keep it in perspective instead of assuming that your mistake is proof that your can’t pull off a second job.

Freelancing can be a responsible way to explore a potential new career path, or to pursue a passion that you can’t afford to work on full-time. But truth be told, it isn’t for everyone. If you’re like me and organized chaos is appealing and even a little thrilling, then do it! You won’t regret the challenge, even if you decide that you’re better at working during standard business hours.

Day 32: Admit defeat, part two

2011-04-13T09:14:00.003-05:00

When I was in 7th grade, the super cool 8th graders got to do the fake baby project, where they had to carry dolls around with them all the time, and feed/change/care for them. Four days in, a particularly overachieving 8th grader boarded the bus in tears.

"I'm going to fail Family Life!" she wailed.

The night before, she had forgotten to get a babysitter for her basketball practice. Her baby sat in the gym while she rebounded and ran drills for an hour, and now she was certain that she'd fail the class because of her parental neglect.

I tried to be sympathetic, but I knew that her failure at parenting was fully expected. They want you to make mistakes, so you realize you aren't ready to be a parent yet, I explained to her. Then I probably rolled my eyes when she wasn't looking. I was pretty annoyed at her inability to see the very obvious life lesson of this project.

I'm realizing that my Lent!Blog! failure is a lot like the fake parenting failure. I've been crabby at myself for my inability to blog over the last few days but in all honesty, I should have seen this coming. I haven't done a Lenten sacrifice in something like six years, and I no longer voluntarily attend church so... it should come as no surprise to me that I'm not as beholden to this project as I assumed I'd be.

I also realized this morning that I somehow counted wrong... how am I on Day 32, when Easter is not for another 12 days?

Struggles, all.

Day 31: Face a fear

2011-04-11T17:07:00.000-05:00

I'm running low on prompts and/or enthusiasm for Lent!Blog!

Somehow, I think all of the L!B! participants are going to give me a pass for having missed the last two days. Thanks, amigos, for being such good sports/slackers.

One of my favorite things about my friend Joel is that he's deathly afraid of blue whales. He knows all kinds of factoids about blue whales (their hearts are as big as a VW Beetle!), which he says he memorized because "you should always know as much as possible about your enemies". Joel is the most logical person I know, except when it comes to blue whales.

What's your most irrational fear? Where do you think it stems from?

I wrote about my irrational fears a few months ago, but my biggest fear remains that my credit card will be declined. Except my fear is no longer irrational, because it recently came true. This weekend, I tried to buy a pair of shoes online, from Zappos, and my bank flagged my purchase. Then they shut off my card. I didn't realize this until I went to the grocery store for one jar of salsa, and I was declined. MOR-TI-FY-ING.

So I called my bank, and a nice man informed me that my card was flagged because Zappos is out of state and so they thought I had been "compromised". Ahem.

What I said to this man was, "I think your system is a little strange, considering that most online purchases are going to appear out of state. Nevertheless, can you kindly turn me back on? Also, am I free to buy the moccasins I so covet now or will I be again appear compromised?"

What I wanted to say was, "Are you mad? Zappos is one of the largest e-commerce sites in the nation. Do you shut everyone down that wants a pair of moccasins with free shipping? And of course it shows up as out of state! Do you know how much trouble I'd be in if there was one down the block from me? Furthermore, do you know what it's like to have the woman at the grocery store look at me and think I can't afford a jar of salsa? Do you?"

Robert assures me this won't happen again, yet somehow I know I'm going to be paying for everything in cash for the next six months to ensure I avoid humiliation.

As for you ^, I remain undeterred. You will be mine.

Day 28: Air a grievance

2011-04-08T17:06:00.000-05:00

Perhaps you're alarmed about the state of our nation, the lack of educated and intelligent media coverage, or maybe you can't find a grocery store with ripe avocados. Air a grievance, any grievance.

I've been discouraged all day - if it were true that your face freezes when you keep the same unnatural expression for too long, my brows would be forever furrowed into a look of abject despair and exhaustion.

This excellent NYT editorial details what the budget impasse is really about - abortion, healthcare and environmental protection. I think that's pretty true, but it's also about children who never learned to share their sandbox toys, who were inexplicably selected to run our country. It's about a broken two-party system that has removed all sense of logic from politics. It's about a media system so focused on incendiary rhetoric that it has personally elevated a man previously known for his combover to presidential candidate status... while simultaneously turning us into creatures who feel we can understand complex political and sociological issues via 30-second soundbites.

Meanwhile, most of us are truly on the same side here, right? Before you hit comment and say NO, stop and think a minute. Have you ever used birth control? Have you ever seen smog and worried that the planet you're leaving your children is not the same one into which you were born? Have you looked at Trump and thought, "Whack job"?

We're on the same team, people. It's just better for business to convince us that the issues are black and white, that being Christian and socially liberal are mutually exclusive, that you can't support global warming and wish for lower taxes. Rational thinking is no longer rewarded, and so the small differences we have, philosophically, with one another, are positioned as impassable schisms that will forever divide us.

It doesn't have to be like this. I can't believe that a country built on the intelligence and innovation of a group of rational thinkers in an irrational time can't now find a way to put a swift end to the outrageous smoke and mirrors show that our governmental system has become.

How do we fix it? I think it starts with intelligent discourse - find someone you disagree with, and don't leave until you've found some kind of common ground. Don't rely on the talking points you're hearing, but rather rethink what you know and why it is important to you. Try to leave with a better understanding of where they come from, what has affected their opinions and why that is important.

How we fix it, I think, is to treat one other like human beings instead of enemies. And then, to demand that our elected officials do the same.

Day 27: Mistaken identity

2011-04-07T13:26:00.005-05:00

I recently watched North by Northwest, a delightful Hitchcock film about a case of mistaken identity. You've probably at least seen the scene where Cary Grant outruns and outwits a cropduster:

or the scene where Eve Marie Saint is all "I could run faster if I weren't in these heels, but it's 1959 and even when scaling Mount Rushmore I have to remain ladylike."

Where was I? Oh yeah, the whole movie's plot is set around Cary Grant raising his hand at a supremely unwise time in a restaurant, which leads to group of thugs kidnapping and trying to kill him.

Naturally this leads me to today's prompt:

When have you been mistaken for someone else? Did chaos and/or attempted murder ensue?

Alternate: If you've never actually been mistaken for someone else, tell us what celebrity people say you look like.

I'm currently being mistaken on a monthly basis for someone I am definitely not: a mother. This fall, I began receiving Similac "Strong Moms" mailings. It began innocently enough - with a sincere congratulations on my phantom baby, and some coupons. Then they upped the ante with parenting tips, an invitation to be part of the Strong Moms online network and... drumroll... two canisters of formula. You can throw away coupons and flyers, but it didn't feel right to throw away perfectly good baby food. There it sits in my pantry, a daily reminder that in an alternate universe, someone thinks I need advice on weaning, diaper rashes and developmental milestones.

My roommate, after attending a bridal fair with an engaged friend, is also suffering a case of mistaken identity as a bride-to-be. She gets Bride magazine, and wedding day specials are mailed to our place. This is entertaining because (whatever, I'll say it) anyone who buys pre-engagement bridal magazines is a little batty, and my roommate is so not that girl. Nevertheless, the new issue sits on our coffee table each month, reminding her boyfriend that if he were dating anyone else but J, this would be a highly inappropriate subscription.

The thought of two husbands and a child living in our 2BR, quaint-as-can-be Uptown apartment is pretty entertaining, but it won't ever culminate with me scaling Mount Rushmore while on the run from my ex-lover who I lured in under false pretenses.

Which is too bad. That would be pretty neat, and I'm way better at running in heels than Eve Marie Saint was.

Day 26: Catchphrase

2011-04-06T13:30:00.003-05:00

What's your catchphrase, or most overused word?

I'm really big on the word juju. As in, "I'm sending you good juju."

Lots of people have laughed at me for my juju sending, but I don't care. I love juju. And if you have a big day coming up, I'll send you juju all day long.

Juju is happy, fresh and sincere. It doesn't require the sender and receiver to believe in the same deity, and it doesn't connote any sadness, like when you say you're thinking of someone.

So the next time you're trying to impart hopeful, nonjudgmental, nondenominational wishes upon someone, tell them you're sending them all your best juju. The really good stuff. It totally works.

Day 25: Compliment

2011-04-05T13:13:00.007-05:00

What is the best compliment you’ve ever been given? Do you agree with it? Go ahead, you can brag just this once. If you’re a Lent!Blog! participant, you’re probably pretty awesome.

You know that conversation during an amicable breakup when, to neutralize all the sadness and all the talk of what you are not, your soon-to-be ex tells you all the things that you are? And then you do the same, until you're both kind of weirdly happy while still being pretty damn upset? Well, my greatest compliment comes from one of those tragic-comic conversations I had a few years ago.

“You’re the most resourceful person I’ve ever met,” he said.

It wasn't romantic, it wasn't even sentimental. But I loved that he said it. I think about it all the time – I relish in how it is true now, and wonder how it will impact my future.

Many people are intelligent, and can utilize the latent skills within to propel themselves forward. Others are lucky – born in the right circumstances, or always in the right place at the right time.

Those are both nice qualities, and I think I have a hint of each of them. But I know my real strength lies in my inner tenacity, my ability to ask the right questions and inability to say no. The best part of being resourceful, though, is that it requires a wide net of supporters. Often, finding the best solution occurs not by Googling or through trial and error, but by filing through your contacts and realizing you know a guy, who knows a guy, who can help. Being resourceful means that you have to maintain relationships so when you do ask for help, people are more than willing to comply.

I’m terrible at Excel and I once nearly had a meltdown when some long-hidden macros popped out of an old document I'd repurposed. The deadline was looming. I cursed myself for not having started from scratch, cursed myself for not having a left brain, and then, I emailed the document to the above ex-boyfriend with a plea for help. He was, among other things, the left brain guy, and his work life consisted mostly of complex things in Excel I couldn’t even begin to understand. In three minutes, I had the spreadsheet back, no longer riddled with auto-tabbing columns and other problematic additives.

In the email, he wrote “Happy to help.” And I know he was.

Day 24: Anticipation

2011-04-04T12:39:00.005-05:00

Yes, I skipped Day 23, and no, I won't be making up for it. Neither will you, Lent!Blog! participants. Moving on...

What are you looking forward to in the near future?

"Anticipation...

... is making me late...

... is keeping me waiting."

My friends and I are all educated, relatively sane individuals. None of us have Team Jacob or Edward t-shirts, and we don't generally talk about celebrities as though they're our friends. Then, over the course of the last few years, we've found ourselves saying things like "I want Eric and Tami Taylor's marriage" and "Why is Tim Riggins so incapable of making good decisions?" and "I wish Tim Riggins was real so I could save him from himself and also kidnap him and force him to sit shirtless in my living room 24 hours a day."

The obsession is, of course, Friday Night Lights. Tomorrow, the fifth and final (THANKS A LOT, NBC, FOR RUINING EVERYTHING) season goes on sale and my four girlfriends and I will gather in my apartment to begin watching it together. There will be: tears, fist pumps, many swears when Rigs doesn't appear in an episode, and of course... there will be wine.

In all seriousness, if you've never watched this show, you should. Friday Night Lights has won Peabody awards, both genders can appreciate it, and the casting directors must have found a black hole of actors because the young cast members are both talented and attractive (I'm looking at you, Gossip Girl). This show is seriously fantastic.

Day 22: last line of a story

2011-04-02T19:35:00.001-05:00

Tell the last line of the craziest story that has ever happened to you.

"And then the man got his face kicked in as we drank the round of margaritas he had just purchased for us."

Wish you knew the whole story, dontcha? Can you trump this?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Day 21: Life advice

2011-04-01T09:44:00.007-05:00

Let's make it short and sweet this lovely Friday.

Give some words to live by.

"Four Butts" - Summer 2007

Advice credit: the lovely Brandi.

Day 20: Remedy

2011-03-31T22:00:00.001-05:00

Praise all that is good and holy that we've hit the halfway mark on this here Lent!Blog! challenge. Anyone else running out of steam? We shall overcome, y'all. (Feel free to leave prompt suggestions in the comments, by the way.)

I have spent the last six hours coming in and out of consciousness after leaving sick from work this afternoon. I seem to have a combination pounding-headache-sore-throat-stomach-flu situation... normally this would be the excuse of a bad liar who forgets what fake illness they were going to come down with. Unfortunately, it's my real life. So:

What's your best remedy for illness?

Aside from showing up on my parents' doorstep and demanding they take care of me, my favorite thing when I am on the verge of strep (my body's sickness of choice) is to chug Tazo Refresh tea, suck down Vitamin C cough drops, and sit in my bathroom while the shower is set to "scald." Then I put on the largest pair of sweatpants I own and set Hulu to a show I don't care about so I can watch/nap my way through the afternoon. Dry toast for dinner. Then, around 8 PM, I like to take a few Tylenol PMs to really conk me out.

While whining about how cruddy I felt today, I mentioned to the boy that I was wearing my Obama t-shirt, because I assumed the leader of the free world might help me through this tough time. He thought I said my "vomit" t-shirt, and I can't get that image out of my head now. I will just go ahead and say it -no one should have a vomit shirt.

Tomorrow I hope to be back to regularly scheduled programming. Thank you for your support.

Day 19: How do you like it?

2011-03-30T17:01:00.002-05:00

First of all, everyone welcome my friend Kirsten to Lent!Blog! Kirsten is one of my oldest friends - as kids, we lived only two blocks from one another. I'm not sure how secretive her blog identity is, so in her own words: "I'm not happy unless I'm busy. So I guess a full time government job, 2 toddlers, getting a Masters in Public Health, fixing our house, and date nights with my husband means I'm pretty darn ecstatic!" I'd also like to add that Kirsten was the first person to ever embarrass me in front of a guy. She brought the class hottie over to my house unannounced in fifth grade, and I was wearing a South Dakota farm animals shirt. (Hipsters would now pay $40 for that shirt at Urban Outfitters.)

Moving on!

I've noticed that the participants of Lent!Blog! are almost as enthusiastic about coffee as I am. So:

How do you like your coffee? Describe it to the nth degree. Aim for coffee porn.

*Alternate for non-coffee drinkers: What's your favorite non-alcoholic beverage, please still describe it in detail.

First, I drink plain black coffee about five days a week. I'm really into (as in, I can afford) Dunkin' Donuts Cinnamon Spice blend lately, but I also love to peruse Marshall's for their specialty coffee selection. I recently cleaned my coffeemaker by flushing vinegar through it and the effect has been all but life-changing.

Now let's get down to business. When it comes to what I really prefer, it's not black coffee and it doesn't come out of my kitchen in two minutes flat.

Winter: Medium soy white mocha

This is the dream drink for days when I can convince myself that $4.50 is a perfectly rational amount of money for one beverage. Skim mochas are too thin and whole milk mochas make me feel badly about myself but soy mochas are, as Goldilocks once said, juuuuust right. The one downside of this drink is that the barista will usually not give you whip cream, assuming you're lactose intolerant or worse, vegan. So you have to pony up to the drink bar and remind them that if you're paying more than a gallon's worth of gas for your morning beverage, you absolutely want it to come with whip cream. And the chocolate-covered espresso bean. And a toothy grin and a thank you.

Spring/Summer: Medium cold press, 1/2 shot white chocolate, topped with soy milk

Cold-press coffee is brewed cold, kind of like iced tea - the result is an utter lack of bitter flavor. Adding white chocolate is a good choice but if you sacrifice a 1/2 ounce of coffee for the milk, you'll be amazed at how much creamier and richer it is. Try to hold back your moan in the coffeeshop, lest you want the old man perusing Reader's Digest to ask you if you come there often.

Fall: Medium. Soy. Pumpkin. Spice. Latte.

I actually can't do this one justice. So I'm not even going to try.

Day 18: Do you love your 'hood?

2011-03-29T17:01:00.000-05:00

Why do you love where you live?

I love my neighborhood because it's within walking distance to my favorite:

Lake

Neighborhood Breakfast Joint

Furniture store

Bars (esp. this one)

At least four Thai restaurants (esp. this one)

... as well as tons of other restaurants, theaters, gyms, and walking paths.

If I could someday own a home in East Isles, I'd be the world's happiest woman. For now, I'm gleefully renting a two bedroom pad that's home to me and my fabulous roommate. Behold us in our natural habitat, making the age-old "One-eyed pirate" and "Duck" faces.

Hop skip and a jump to Day 17: Want

2011-03-28T11:18:00.007-05:00

I have it on good authority (thanks, Facebook) that the fine participants of Lent!Blog! were busy doing real stuff in the real world this weekend, so we're going to give ourselves a "blogging bye" and return to the Challenge today.

I've been relatively thrifty lately, but the promise of spring is getting to me. I'm itching for sundresses, flats, brightly-colored jewelry, a pedicure. In reality, I'm putting my hard-earned dollars into the same old buckets: student loans, rent, car payment, insurance, savings. And I'm noticing that despite my diligence, I'm still not on the verge of an early retirement. Shocker, no?

In honor of us all being such great bill-payers, I vote we hit up Fantasy Island, if only for a few minutes.

Name three things you want, and don't you dare feel guilty while doing so.

MacBook Pro, for how many more years will I covet you?

I have a perfectly decent coffee maker but french press just looks sexier.

This is one of about seven ruffled duvets I have bookmarked. And yet, each night I fall asleep under the rough Ikea comforter I purchased approximately five years ago. (Seriously, Ikea, just tell me the truth. Is your bedding made of horse hair?)

Day Fourteen: Bucking the trend

2011-03-25T13:44:00.005-05:00

What bandwagon have you yet to jump on? Why?

I realized yesterday that nearly everyone I converse with on the Internets has run a marathon. For example, Lent!Blog! participants Joe, Greta, and Teresa have all completed a marathon, as have KC and Emily. Jamie will run her first tomorrow. (Sara and Jenny, I'm not sure about your past marathon experience. If you have run one or five, congrats! You're crazy too.)

Then there's me. I don't so much run, although I'm really good at making plans to run. A few weeks ago I went on a "run" around Lake of the Isles and the only second of it I found enjoyable was when I did a full on grand jete (ballet's flying leap) over a big puddle so as to avoid getting mud on my leggings. The moment my feet hit the pavement again, I grimaced and had only one thought. Running sucks so hard.

As a young urban dweller, I feel like I might get kicked out of the city limits if I don't figure out how to run soon. I've learned at this point not to promise any workout plan to this blog, yet a little part of me knows it's now or never for me - I live next to one of the most idyllic running paths in the city, I have few post-work commitments, and I'm increasingly blaming my clothes for having shrunk instead of taking responsibility for what is surely an "artificial cheese cracker" weight gain. If not now, when?

The goal is small - I'd love to be able to casually say I ran five miles. Wouldn't that be neat? (To be clear, there is nothing neat about having all your toenails fall off, even if you do get to say it's because you ran 26.2 consecutive miles.)

Running friends - can you recommend some good jams? In addition to being a terrible runner, I'm also programmed to run directly on beat due to a few too many years as a sequin-bedecked jazz dancer. The one time I tried running to a podcast, as Joe suggested, I ended up sprawled in the grass after a mile, crying as I listened to Ira Glass wrap up a This American Life story on kidnapping radio in Colombia. So, please direct your suggestions more towards Shakira than NPR if possible.

And in all seriousness, while I don't get the marathon thing, I have the utmost respect for anyone who completes one. Best of luck tomorrow Jamie!

Day Thirteen: Guilty Pleasure

2011-03-24T09:42:00.004-05:00

You know those pudding sundae cup commercials, where an impossibly lithe and gorgeous woman leans in conspirationally towards the camera, offering her secret to staying fit while still indulging in her favorite guilty pleasures? And then her secret is to eat a 100 calorie cup of pudding?

Yeah, those commercials suck. The problem with those ads is that they are pretending to understand the art of a guilty pleasure, but there’s nothing fun about a pudding cup. Guilty pleasures should be mortifying, or full of empty calories. There’s no need for the sexy eyebrow raise and the come hither motion when endorsing a product that is also endorsed by this guy:

So, Lent!Blog! participants, what’s your guilty pleasure? Really now, make it embarrassing. Make it count.

My guilty pleasure is that I have, for about seven years now, had a huge love for Ashlee Simpson. That’s right, I love Jessica Simpson’s relatively talent-less younger sister. In 2004, Ashlee released “Autobiography,” an album I rocked out to almost exclusively the summer before freshman year of college. My girlfriends and I met weekly to watch her MTV reality show, and insisted on scream-singing “You make me wanna LA LA!” as we cruised around the lakes with our windows down. I thought she was kind of edgy. I've never claimed to be cool.

Pre-plasticized

It’d be one thing if I had outgrown Ashlee, but I haven’t. Six songs from “Autobiography” are still on my workout loop, and sometimes out of nowhere I find myself singing “I didn’t steal your boyfriend!” when lounging around my apartment. In the battle of Ashlee Simpson vs. Lohan for Wilmer Valderamma's love, I was always firmly on Team Ashley.

One of the things I like best about A Simp's songs is that I sound almost as good singing them as she does. Let me state for the record, that I am nearly tone-deaf and have not even a full octave range to work from some days. I get sick of having to drown out my own voice when belting out Dawes or The Swell Season, and it's sometimes nice to pretend that I have a tiny pool of musical talent pumping through my veins.

When I recently heard my girl Ash is working on a forthcoming folk album, I actually got excited. It’ll probably be the first album to be ½ folk vibe, ½ heavy auto-tune. I’m probably going to buy it the day it drops.

Hate me yet? Good. That's what guilty pleasures are for.

Day twelve: admit defeat

2011-03-23T19:00:00.001-05:00

Today, I'm admitting that I'm not doing such a hot job at leading this blogging challenge. I had such high hopes!

So, starting tomorrow I'm going to try to wake up and blog prior to my workday. That way, I won't feel the midday crunch and all you fabulous participants will more easily be able to answer each day's prompt.Ready? Break.

I guess that makes today's prompt:

What are you admitting defeat about? Is it really too late to turn it around?

Day eleven: Turn and face the strain

2011-03-22T17:19:00.005-05:00

What is one change, big or small, that you've had to deal with lately? Was it hard? Why or why not?

My new big change is my blog design. I've hated my other one for awhile - I'm not as cute or dainty as it suggested - so I'm excited to start fresh.

That said, I know nothing about HTML code so today's lunch hour was quite comical. "Delete - preview - undo - delete something else- preview - undo", for an hour, until I had to return to work. It at least resembles what I want it to look like now, though none of the adorable tabs at the top lead to anything, and my twitter feed is gone. Also, the title of my blog is also now GRUNGE THEME. In theory I know how to fix that, but it'll require my design skills to come out. So, this blog might be known as GRUNGE THEME for a few months.

Nevertheless, I'm excited for the future of A Wooden Nickel. Facelifts are always fun, so long as they don't require anyone's actual face.

What are you waiting for? Get out of your readers, visit my actual site and tell me what you think!

Days nine and ten: Signs of adulthood, and not so much

2011-03-21T10:36:00.004-05:00

This is where, for the purpose of Lent!Blog! I mention something about even God resting on Sundays, and how I decided to take a hint from the Book of Genesis. In all seriousness, sorry for bailing yesterday, participants.

Two prompts today, to get us back on track.

What is one recent sign that you're really and truly an adult?

This morning, I woke up an hour early so I could meet with a money manager before work.* If you're wondering why this is a huge sign of adulthood, you've never seen the interactions I have with my alarm clock on a weekday morning. On a good day, I snooze twice. On a bad day, I can convince myself I don't need to: shower, eat, blowdry, iron, put makeup on, or all of the above. Today, I voluntarily attended an 8 AM coffee meeting to discuss my retirement savings and I didn't even look homeless when I arrived. Go adult me!

What is one recent sign you're not so grown up, after all?

Where to start? Well, I stayed up past 5 AM on Saturday night chatting, which led pretty naturally to a 12:30 PM wakeup yesterday. I then went to a grocery store with a Redbox machine, and ended up leaving with two awful movies, a pizza, and a bag of "XTRA CHEDDAR!" Flavor-Blasted Goldfish. Last and perhaps most tellingly, my pet name from the new guy is "Booger." I'm not exactly a bastion of adulthood, but then again, I don't have to be.

Tangent:

*The kind of person I actually want managing my tiny savings, not some rando who stalker calls me on a "recommendation from a friend." Doesn't it seem like everyone who calls on a referral then references the friend you would consult dead last on anything involving your savings or responsibility? Seriously people, if you're going to ask me to turn over my hard-earned dollars to you, try not to have our common bond be a guy I know as "Naked Pete."

Day nine: act like your 8th grade self

2011-03-19T18:27:00.001-05:00

Uh, forgot to blog today. I've been at a great coaching convention, I'm inclined to tell you- I've not been ignoring the blogosphere in favor of something exotic and fabulous. I'm typing this from in a high school gymnasium. I have bleacher butt. It's not fun.

This is the worst prompt in history, please roll with me.

What song lyric have you been loving lately?

Mine is from a new-ish Ben Kweller song, "Fight." Without further ado:

I'm like my grandma, short but I stand tall- playing every card that's dealt to me. Some days are aces, some days are faces. Some days are twos and threes.

BK speaks the truth, y'all. Hope you're rocking the face cards today. I'll be back and better than ever tomorrow!

XO

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Day eight: Buzzword

2011-03-18T11:22:00.003-05:00

The participants of Lent!Blog! all work in marketing/advertising and law - industries where big vocabularies and good word choices are imperative to success. That said...

What's one buzzword you hear at work that you're so over?

My buzzword is stakeholder.

I'm going to employ the #1 writing no-no technique and give you the definition of this word according to businessdictionary.com:

Stakeholder: A person, group or organization that has direct or indirect stake in an organization because it can be affected by the organization's actions, objectives, and policies. Key stakeholders in a business organization include creditors, customers, directors, employees, government (and its agencies), owners (shareholders), suppliers, unions, and the community from which the business draws its resources.

To sum up, anyone who comes within a five foot pole of a company (or heck, anyone who comes near a group of people standing on a corner with a loose purpose in mind) is a stakeholder. By this definition, I'm a stakeholder in Caribou Coffee, a great number of Thai restaurants that dot my neighborhood, and also in my own company. Aren't I also a stakeholder in both non-profits I support (say, MPR, Planned Parenthood) and those I do not (the NRA, anything Tim Pawlenty's been snuggling up to in the last two months)?

I get that we need general terms to use when discussing hypotheticals. And in all honesty, it's usually vendors or other 3rd parties who use 'stakeholder' because they aren't as educated on our biz as we are. Still though, I find myself picturing Buffy with a stake any time this word is brought up... which I'm sure has never been the purpose of the meeting.

Day seven: Signs of the apocalypse

2011-03-17T11:45:00.006-05:00

I can't deny that some of my favorite personalities (Stewart, Colbert, Tosh, etc.) are those who spend their days pointing out the absurdity/stupidity of our culture. I have a pretty high tolerance for that kind of humor. Occasionally, though, I wonder what it means that respected news outlets are covering the devastation in Japan and Charlie Sheen with seemingly equal intensity. And yes, I worry about my ten-years-away-from-being-conceived-children, and how I'll raise them to think critically or work towards success when young girls are rewarded with six figure salaries simply for getting pregnant too early in life and beating up their baby daddies on camera. I worry that we have the term "baby daddy," to be perfectly honest with you.

What is one sign of the apocalypse you've seen lately? When you see things like this, do you laugh, cry - or both?

First of all, I'd like to say that I'm not the person who usually trashes little girls playing with dolls. Is Barbie's rack ridiculous? Yes, of course. But never once in my years of playing with Barbie and her friends did I think I'd like to saddle up to the plastic surgeon on my 18th birthday and demand to be plasticized.

However, dolls like this stress me out:

This is the Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll. My problems with the Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll are six-fold:

Either the Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll does not have a butt, or her Monster High peers are getting quite a show
The Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll seems to be unaware, or uncaring of the dangers of UV rays, whether natural or artificial
The Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll does not seem to have enough leg muscle to sustain the weight she is putting on feet by wearing nine-inch platform knee-high boots
The Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll's description states that she is "intimidating", which when taken into account alongside her fierce facial expression seems to indicate that The Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll is a bitch and will take you down if you look at her the wrong way in the halls of Monster High. I'm not a fan of bullying
The Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll, as a product of werewolf parents, has taken it upon herself to educate young women on the perils of unwanted body hair. "Plucking and shaving is definitely a full time job but that's a small price to pay for being scarily fabulous."
The Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll is most often purchased for 5-7 year old girls, who seem like they should be playing with a toy slightly less invested in their kindergarten unibrow and more invested in their knowledge of the alphabet and basic addition skills.

In defense of the Monster High Clawdeen Wolf Doll, the packaging does state that one of her traits is that she is absolutely loyal to her friends. So, that's something.

Good riddance.

Day six: sins of omission

2011-03-15T17:02:00.005-05:00

When you blog, what's off limits? Why?

I personally hate trainwreck blogs - the ones written by overly emotional, filter-less people with lots of time on their hands. So when I'm writing, I try to steer clear of anything that might scream "Pay attention to what a victim I am!"

The truth is, this blog is the glossy version of my life - I have the world's greatest support system offline, and so I don't usually post when I'm struggling. The exception to this rule occurs when there's a shift in my personal life that will affect the narrative I've created here (what up, breakups!). I try to clarify quickly and move on.

So, to answer my own question, drama is off limits here at A Wooden Nickel. I don't think there's any way to appear dignified by blasting your personal life all over the internets. Some people don't have to be dignified, and can make a hell of a lot of money by airing their dirty laundry. I'm quite sure I don't want to be one of those people.

Day five: Happy Happy Joy Joy

2011-03-14T22:49:00.003-05:00

Does it seem like the world is imploding to anyone else? Obviously there are macro-level events we're all concerned about, but for me and my sphere of friends, this last week has been a raging suckfest of personal sads. Therefore:

Name at least one good thing you've heard, seen, or done lately. Seriously, this isn't a trick question. Anything that doesn't have a downside. Go.

I'm actually predicting into the future, knowing that I'm going to have a great night. I'm meeting with one of my favorite people, Lent!Blog! participant Joe of Holly Was a Hoodrat. That's right. We're getting together IRL, something that happens far too seldom. There will be half-price wine and delicious food, he'll teach me something about science, and then we'll fire off on the state of the American political system, where we'll talk about some hard stuff but also bring up easy targets like Glenn Beck and Michele Bachmann because a) they exist, and b) we're nothing if not good Jon Stewart disciples.

Day Four: Dream big

2011-03-14T15:00:00.000-05:00

One of the disadvantages of getting older is realizing that we’re not as invincible as we once imagined ourselves. Somewhere in between growing pains and student loan payments, most of us give up on our childhood delusions of grandeur.

What was your big childhood dream? Are you still pursuing it? If yes, how? If no, how did you reconcile that within yourself?

As my friend Mary likes to remind me, I attended Career Day in the 5^th grade as a supermodel. I really wish I were kidding. Mary remembers this because our teacher didn’t allow anyone to dress as professional athletes as it wasn’t “realistic”, and Mary, ten year old sage that she was, pointed out that my chance of making it as the next Crawford was equally slim.

The truth was that we were all private school kids desperate for an out of uniform day, and we were just trying to bend our sweet duds to our career of choice. For example, Mary wanted to wear a soccer jersey (hence, professional soccer player) and I wanted to wear my sweet new Gap overalls (perhaps you remember this time in fashion history?) while also impressing my boyfriend, who seemed poised to break up with me in favor of the girl who was coming dressed as Baby Spice.

Is your head exploding yet?

In actuality, I didn’t want to be a supermodel. Perhaps recognizing that my looks would be put to better use behind the scenes, I actually wrote in my Career Day essay that I wanted to be a young adult novelist. Never one to devise a plan without ample details, I had already amassed a large collection of original short stories about crime-fighting junior high twins Samantha and Alexa Hill. I ran out of original ideas after Book #4 (The Case of the Missing Cello - let me know if you'd like an original Xerox of this), and I began to borrow plots heavily from Nancy Drew and the Boxcar Children from there on out.

Obviously, I’m not a young adult novelist. However, about 50% of my job is writing, and I’ve been rocking this blog for 3+ years, much to the delight of my friends trying to kill time at work. Last, I’m also looking into adult writing classes in Minneapolis this spring, so I think I’m still in pursuit of a small piece of my childhood dream.

Oh and I’ve also never appeared in Vogue. I don’t really want to talk about it, except to say that Petra Nemcova could never pull off overalls like I did.

Day Three: Recommended Reading

2011-03-13T16:11:00.003-05:00

In the world of Oprah's book club and increasingly short attention spans, a lot of deserving books don't get as many accolades as they should.

What's a great book you wish more people had read? (Sell it like you're the publisher, or you know we won't read it.)

I wish more people knew about the book Population 485: Meeting Your Neighbors One Siren at a Time, by Michael Perry. I adore books about the Midwest but fictional accounts are usually too cliche, and non-fictionals don't often resonate with me. Perry's descriptions of his neighbors in the small town of New Auburn, WI, are so endearing you kind of want to get in the car and drive to the N'obern VFW on a Friday night to meet them in person. The story of his return to the Midwest is threaded together with emergency calls he fields as one of the town's volunteer firefighters. Perry's soothing prose proves that anyone can be written about poetically - even the one-eyed, crosseyed butcher whose ex-wives (yep, plural) run the local gas station. I love books that incorporate the implausibility of real life - humor, heartbreak, and redemption for some and not for others. Read this book, then read his followups: Truck: A Love Story, and Coop: A Family, A Farm, and the Pursuit of One Good Egg.

Lent!Blog! participants

2011-03-13T15:32:00.004-05:00

I'm excited to share the news that Lent!Blog! is overtaking the whole of the internets. Seriously, the Twitter servers reserved solely for the Biebs have nothing on Lent!Blog!

The talented bloggers who have at least hesitantly committed to this strenuous project are:

Jamie of Jamie JD
Jamie is a 1L (also studying for her MPP) living in D.C. with her fiance, MW. Areas of expertise: law school, politics, domestic life, working out (homegirl's training for a marathon, in the middle of 1L), and trashy ABC family television.

Joe of Holly Was a Hoodrat
Joe is a 2L (also studying for something else at Humphrey Institute. Could be an MPP? Why can't you all just quit being such overacheivers and get one degree at a time?) Areas of expertise: law school, environmental policy, politics, lover of indie music and anything on vinyl, running, and hipster collectibles that act as homages to F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Teresa of Music of the Moment
Teresa is a fellow Badger, currently rocking the non-profit scene in NYC after a stint as a journalist in Colombia. Areas of expertise: the future of print journalism, politics, how to survive in the kidnapping capital of the world, running, pandas, and glitter.

Jenny of The Balow Bunch
Jenny is my coworker, an internet marketing rockstar who is also mother to the cutest baby I've ever seen. Areas of expertise: new motherhood, religion, politics, baseball (esp. MN Twins), marketing and social media, justifying a daily white mocha from Caribou coffee.

Greta of Adventures of Peanut Butter and Jelly
Greta is another Badger, currently rocking a much-coveted position at a huge ad agency in Minneapolis. Areas of expertise: advertising and marketing, running and working out, politics, showing major Wisco pride at all times, baking, coffee, and repping for hot redheads worldwide.

Oh and me. I'll be writing the prompts and keeping up the general enthusiasm of all participants so this doesn't fall flat after three days.

Am I missing anyone? I think these are all those who have confirmed. Thanks for jumping on my whim, amigos. If you're reading this and wishing you were a part of it, then join in! Leave your URL in the comments and I'll add you to the list.

I think I speak for everyone when I say this is going to change our lives.

Day Two: Song

2011-03-12T09:12:00.007-06:00

Welcome to Day 2 of Lent! Blog! I have to keep using the exclamation points because I just know they'll keep us pumped up once we remember that Lent is forty long days, much longer than the month-long challenges we've taken on in the past.

I think we're mostly agreeing to answer the same prompt, but feel free to go rogue at any moment. It's not fair that I'm coming up with the day's theme based on what I feel like writing about. (Isn't power fun?)

Song: What have you been jamming out to lately? Why?

One of my favorite coworkers is a music guru, and he's always giving me new CDs of bands I haven't yet discovered. The following is a song I was excited to share with him - something that never happens. If you don't think this is super cool, then let it be known that I don't think you have a soul. (And if that's the case, it's a good thing you're doing a Lenten blog challenge. Good thinking.)

Music starts at :52

Prompt One: Engage.

2011-03-11T17:01:00.000-06:00

Lent! Blog! Is officially a go.

Considering it’s getting late and I really want to make this happen, I’m keeping my first prompt simple. Today has been a reminder for all of us that life can change in an instant, in ways that you can never imagine, through circumstances out of your control. It’s a good time to sit back and reflect on the things or people that make your life better.

What are you doing this weekend to stay engaged in your (pick one) community, friendships, relationship, or personal life?

I’m answering all rather than choosing.

I have girl time scheduled in with both friends and my mom this weekend, and a double date with roomie, her man, and my new fellow tomorrow night. I’m planning a jog after work today to clear my brain from a long week. Last, I’m attending this exhibit with the new man. Bless his heart for being the only person on the planet that agree that a museum exhibit on baby boomers and their future living habits sounds (and I’m seriously quoting here) “so fascinating”.

Okay, blog friends. Let's do this.

Lent! Blog!

2011-03-11T10:44:00.003-06:00

Perhaps I’ve mentioned once, twice, or a thousand times that I’m a lapsed Catholic? Well in honor of kinda sorta being a Catholic, I’ve decided to kinda sorta take part in Lent.

First, I'm giving up this ridiculously addictive D'Amico pasta salad for Lent, but that's not interesting to anyone else except me.

So my Lenten "add-on" is going to be to blog everyday. I become a better writer, and a more focused person, when I write daily.

Can I find some other blog amigos who will do this with me? Greta, Sara, Teresa, Joe and Jamie are all coming to mind. Everyone is welcome, though. (Jamie and Teresa, I know you’re not so much lapsed, sorry for lumping you in with the sinners. Sara I have no idea where you stand, so my apologies if they should be necessary.)

I'm not sure if we should have a focus. Maybe if people are interested I could come up with some prompts. Obviously, this is very well thought out.

Okay! 1,2,3, Lenten blog challenge! I’ll post my first true blog later today.

Things that are true

2011-02-23T17:15:00.000-06:00

Hard work pays off

My team practiced for 16-20 hours a week for five months, and all their work came down to a 3 ½ minute dance at the Minnesota State Championship competition this weekend. We put in a strong performance, scoring perfect 10s in some categories, and mostly 9’s in others. In the end, we were awarded 3^rd place. Of all the things I love about my team, it might be their maturity when they don’t win outright. It was a fiercely competitive year and they were grateful to finish with a performance they were proud of, and with a medal of any color. If you think I’m lying, check out some of these pics of them celebrating. Could they be any more darling?!

City living is the best

It snowed something like 15 inches over the course of 30 hours this past weekend. While everyone took to their Facebooks to decry the injustice of being snowed in (in February, in a northern state known for its snowy winters AHEM), I pulled on a pair of boots and walked exactly 75 steps to the Thai restaurant on the corner, then 75 steps back home. While everyone tweeted photos of their barren pantries and the sad, freezer-burned porkchops they were forced to use up, I opened a steaming hot container of MeeKhaThi (sp?) noodles with tofu and wondered how my life could get any better.

Harmonicas make sexy men sexier

My life did get better when I won tickets to the Ben Kweller/Pete Yorn show last night. Em and I spent much of our time discussing: how gorgeous PY is, how we covet his hair, how all guys should rock stubble (and how unfair it is that the Air Force ruins that dream for Em), and I internally reflected on the chances of there being another man on the planet who could pull off “Sweet Mama” as a pet name. When I thought we’d run out of things to love about PY, he whipped out his harmonica and played that with one hand while still strumming his guitar with the other. And that, friends, is when I finally understood what those in the biz call a “groupie.”

Happy 3rd Birthday, A Wooden Nickel

2011-02-16T12:00:00.004-06:00

I’m fully aware that my blog has been sucking lately. And while I normally blame my long absences from this page on busy-ness, that’s not the case this time. Yes, life’s been a bit crazy but the truth is that I've just been living, rather than thinking, these past few months. Beginning at the new year, I dove into my life headfirst and tried not to worry so much about how my choices affected others.

I choreographed and cooked for one, didn’t return phone calls when I didn't have time, and missed engagements for which I didn't have the time. I looked a guy in the eye, and said “I like you. What are we waiting for?” and watched as my boldness paid off. When people expressed disappointment in me, I didn't immediately default to an apology. I owned my coaching personality rather than trying to be a mirror image of the others.

One friend said, “We’re single and we have 401ks! This is the dream!” and I laughed my ass off, but I knew she was right. I won’t always be able to choose unabashed selfishness, so I should take advantage of it now.

So while my blog is better when I’m living in my own head, but my life is better when I’m a bit reckless. It seems like a pretty obvious choice to me.

Someday I’ll be a cool mommy blogger who regales the whole of the internets with stories about my children denouncing the Republican party at age 3. For now, I’m happy to report that this silly old blog has made it to the 3-year mark, and has 25+ devoted readers a day. Twenty-five people give a crap about my ninja sleeping habits? You guys. That’s like, the middle child’s dream.

Deep, dark confessions

2011-02-14T17:02:00.002-06:00

This idea was lifted from Flower Child Dwelling. In addition to copying her idea for this post, I've been listening to this dude on repeat thanks to her. So, she's high up in my internet love lately.

Five confessions, because I couldn't think of a juicy sixth one:

I dance while I clean. I start off with Usher’s “U Got It Bad” because my room is generally a maze and I have to body roll in place for about 10 minutes while clearing a path so I can really start shaking it. No one knows how to work the upper body while keeping the lower body steady like Ur-sher.

When I was young, my evil older brother told me that vampires would bite my neck and suck my blood if I slept with my neck exposed. Now, 20 years later, I still sleep in a full cocoon covering my upper body (1^st layer of protection), with my fist covering my neck (2^nd layer), with my legs completely exposed (3^rd layer - so as to kick the living hell out of said vampires if they tried anything). As such, I’m a terrible night-time snuggler and an even worse blanket hog.

There is a new guy. He makes me completely stupid. Fighting it doesn’t seem to be an option so I’ve caved on being a smitten kitten for the time being. I apologize if my googly eyes offend you. They offend me too.

My mother is the friendliest woman on the planet; I spent my whole childhood watching her say ‘Hi’ to every 3^rd person at the grocery store and as a result, I don’t really have boundaries when it comes to public run-ins. Roommate claims I hug too much, I believe other people (ahem, Roommate) hug too seldom.

I once had a dream about being on Death Row, and for my last meal, I had a “Mimi” with extra olive oil from Punch Pizza. Not being a career criminal, I’d never really thought about my last meal but yeah, it would totally be the Mimi. So that’s good to know, should I ever get in with the wrong crowd.

Signs of exhaustion

2011-02-11T13:07:00.002-06:00

I went to Target for socks, spent over $100, and forgot to buy socks.

I slept in my work pants on Monday night without realizing it.

I've only eaten Lean Cuisines for work all week.

I said "Mmmmmm" while eating one of said Lean Cuisines yesterday.

I wore a really terrible forest green and gold combo to work on Tuesday. The worst part of that was getting mistaken for a Packer fan who was not only still bragging via clothes two days late, but doing so in business casual rather than the traditional jersey route.

I tried to pour chicken broth into my coffee this morning. I thought it was soy milk. Two minutes later with a new brew, I nearly did the same thing with olive oil and Torani syrup.

I got a haircut on Wednesday, and was conned into returning for "Phase II" this afternoon by my new stylist BFF. Probably I'm going to end up looking like an anime character. Probably it will be expensive. Probably I won't notice, so please be gentle when you next see me in real life.

On an exciting note, I'm off to watch my team compete in Sections tomorrow. If they place in the top 3 in either dance, they advance to the state tournament. If they don't, the season is over.

I'm so not ready to say goodbye to these kids. Send good juju!

I wanna feel the heat with somebody

2011-02-08T16:01:00.002-06:00

As you may know, I coach dance team at my old high school. When I first started, I was amazed at the number of people who confused me for a student. First, an administrator who monitors the parking lot flipped a lid when I tried to cut through illegally. “YOU KNOW BETTER! Who’s your homeroom teacher?” she screeched as she forced me into a U-Turn that was more dangerous than the original move I was attempting.

“I don’t go here! Sorry!” I hollered back as I mom-armed the passenger seat in my sexy Subaru, which was full of dry-cleaning and other obviously adult items.

Last year, a parent asked if I was a member of the freshman basketball team – that hurt the most. First of all, I’m 25, not 15. Second, why would you assume I hadn’t at least made JV? I am clearly chock full of raw athletic potential.

I joked with a friend that I should start wearing big girl shoes to practice so people know by my clack-clacking down the corridors that I do not have a homeroom or a sixteen year old boyfriend trying to grow his first moustache.

Then at practice this past Saturday, I was trying to explain why my team’s leg holds (picture a high kick, to the side, but then you grab your ankle at the last second and hold it as close to your head as possible) weren’t looking strong enough.

“Make sure you hit at this angle,” I said, popping my leg up for the first time in a solid five years. It didn’t even hurt. I was all, I AM young! No wonder people are confusing me for a teenager, I’m still limber! My leg can kick its face! Take that, people discussing where we should host our 10-year reunion!

By the time I got home, my back was spasming, but it was the searing pain shooting up my hamstring that reminded me my glory days are long over. Before sitting down with a cup of decaf and the latest episode of The Good Wife (which, by the way, has the oldest skewing audience on TV, further proof that I’m a grandma), I moved one chair to the side in my living room and took a deep breath. I launched into a basic ballet leap sequence – chaine, chaine, step, grand jete!

I caught my airborne reflection in the window, and had a moment of personal satisfaction. I’m no longer the dancer I once was, but aside from a whim on a Saturday afternoon, I’m not really trying to be. I’m a coach, a mediator, a guide for teenage girls who need advice on much more than how to execute a fan kick. As most of my girls won’t dance in college, I’m often the last person who will critique them or ready them for a competitive experience before they go on, give up on dance, and become … adults. And since I know that being an adult is largely not as sweet as it looks (see aforementioned drycleaning and hatchback ownership), I’m pretty damn interested in making dance team the best time of their lives.

Golden Globes - live text or something

2011-01-20T16:48:00.010-06:00

One thing you may not know about me, if you don't know me IRL, is that I'm one of those awful twenty-something women who know more about celebrity culture than they do about... well, probably anything.

I don't have time to read shamelessly flawed internet tabloid sites anymore, but I do still love a good awards show. Pretty people, in pretty dresses, alternately smiling or smoldering at the camera depending on their current publicist's advice? I'm all over it.

Luckily, so is Joel. When the Golden Globes were on this past Sunday, we casually began texting our red carpet opinions. 3+ hours and nearly FOUR HUNDRED text messages later, Gervais concluded and our epic text session ended. Which is when I told him that I was planning to edit out the F-words and post some of our better banter to this blog.

If you don't like swearing or people who spend their lives judging others, then I'd come back next week.

Let's do this.

Sometimes we just say what probably everyone in the planet was thinking at that time (Justin Bieber):

Often, we say what only we are thinking at the same time:

(Helen Mirren):

(Sandra Bullock):

Sometimes I'm reminded that Joel is 1,000 times funnier than me (Tilda Swinton):

(Lea Michele, then Alicia Keys):

Sometimes all is right with the world (Joseph Gordon Levitt, Natalie Portman):

Sometimes we're off-topic but can keep up with one another (Milla Jovovich, Michael C. Hall):

My favorite moment of the night was when we began scripting our own movie based on the actor onstage (Clare Danes):

We're probably going to find a way to live-blog the Oscars. I haven't told him that yet, but I think it could be epic.

The under the stall shoe check comes in handy

2011-01-13T16:44:00.004-06:00

Last week Emily asked me what it’s like to constantly live in fear of being abducted. I’ve had a pretty intense fear of being snatched since, as I once detailed, I was five years old trapped in the most boring suburb in the U.S. of A. Nowadays I worry much less about being taken off the streets and all my nightmares are about people breaking into my apartment while I’m sleeping.

You’d think this would keep me up at night, but in fact I just let the situation wash over me when it comes up (usually after I see my creeptastic neighbor smoking and otherwise lurking in the shadows of our garbage bins when I enter my apartment) and then I work out a quick get-away plan before passing out like a baby. I picture very vividly how I would fight off the situation - usually this involves running out my fire escape and to Tali’s house a few blocks away. Why am I running away? A combination of adrenaline from escaping a life-threatening situation, and me not trusting the cashier who works at the corner gas station to call the cops. He seems like he could easily be bribed.

Emily’s reaction was somewhere in between amusement and actual concern for my well-being, which actually sums up our whole friendship pretty well.

I started thinking about other irrational fears that I hold and realized I have a few others that are equally ridiculous.

The first is assuming my card will be declined at restaurants. There is something inside me that is completely terrified my waitress will return to my table and stage whisper, “I’m so sorry, your card has been… declined”, in a tone that implies they’re more embarrassed than I am by my budgeting inabilities. What gives? I haven’t overdrawn since I was 19 and had a brief but intense Urban Outfitters addiction and no job. Moreover, I have overdraft protection so unless I spend enough to blast through my entire savings without noticing, my green curry with tofu will be covered. But that’s where the irrational fear comes in – every time the waitress approaches my table, I think “Here it is. Here’s the moment I realize: my identity’s been stolen/I lost my job but they’re too afraid to tell me and so they just stopped paying me and are hoping I’ll go away/I’ve been sleep-shopping and purchased the entire Anthropologie winter catalog”. If you know me IRL, you will now be endlessly entertained by my shifty eyes each time the credit card book is delivered back to the table.

I'm also consumed several times a day with the fear that I’m in the wrong gendered bathroom. This happens even in bathrooms I’m extremely familiar with, like at work or school. Once someone walks in, I become immediately convinced that the person next to me peeing is actually a dude. I have to talk myself down most times and then comes the big decision: do I flush and sprint out to wash my hands so I can do a quick urinal check? Or stay in there until they’ve exited and I am safe from the awkward freakout that will happen when the dude comes out zipping his fly? Curious about this fear’s impetus? Once at a dance recital when I was eight, I ran into a lobby bathroom in between my tap dance and the father/daughter dance (remind me to find pictures of my dad as Danny Zuko sometime, BTW). As I scampered out of the stall with my gold fringe skirt flapping in the stall door breeze, I was face-palmed by my friend’s dad who was finishing up at the urinal. “JESUS!” he yelped as he pushed my face down/away and quickly turned his back to me. As I cried out from the pain of falling down unexpectedly, I remember thinking only one thing “Huh. Lauren’s dad wears silk boxers. That’s weird.”

There you have it. I’m a total freak. Anyone else out there struggling with daily fears like these?

In sum, I’d like to dedicate this post to my friend Tristan, who wrote me a snippy email reminding me that I wasn’t blogging enough to keep her entertained during her busy season at work. Tristan, tell your AP department to cut me a check for boosting the productivity of their best 3^rd year associate. Thx.

Internet Roundup

2011-01-01T12:11:00.002-06:00

What's been entertaining me on the interwebs this week:

Birthday Card about Satan
A little girl chooses an odd time to talk about the devil - her uncle's birthday note.

Kanye West's stylist speaks
This Q and A with Kanye's 19-year-old stylist, Cassius Clay, is so beyond what I ever could have hoped it to be. Among other things, he lists his current obsessions as: "Charles Dickens, truffles, gloves from Givenchy Fall/Winter 2010, taxidermy." After reading this, I spent about an hour imagining how insufferable it would be to be in a room with these two. (Please note the disambiguation at the end of this article where they clarify that this stylist was not named after Mohammed Ali, but in fact, Mohammed Ali was named after this Cassius Clay's ancestor. I had no idea families like this still existed. I want to go to there.)

Darryl Hall's comeback

My mom once told me that she decided to marry my dad when she saw him drunkenly air guitaring to the song, "She's Gone" by Hall and Oates, so I've always had an affinity for this 80's duo. For anyone who's seen "Live from Darryl's House", or just rocked out to "Rich Girl", this is an interesting read that delves into how difficult it is for artists to evolve from one era of music to another. (Missing is a comment on how jacked up D. Hall's face is looking. Come on, man. Your forehead could outshine Nicole Kidman emerging from a Vaseline pit.)

The rise of "tween fashionistas"

The latest fashion darlings are not ingenues like Carey Mulligan or Emma Watson - they're 12. Or 10, in the case of Willow Smith. Salon peeks into the strange (and dangerous) trend of designers using pubescing girls as their muses. While we've all been hearing that the modeling industry is raising their weight standards for runway shows, is it possible that designers aren't holding up their end of the bargain? Are they simply going to bend lower in age so they don't have to use size-4 dress forms? What happens to the self-esteem of these young women when their bodies inevitably sprout hips, breasts, thighs? Shudder.

Catalog Living
It's too hard to choose a post on this amazing site that mocks pretentious catalog shots but this, this and this are my recent favorites.

What have YOU been reading?

Looking Back

2010-12-31T15:08:00.002-06:00

I liked the way Miscellaneous Missives reflected on her last year, so I'm copying her. At this point I feel like I've been pretty exhaustive in reflecting on 2010 but then again, I love reflecting. Here goes:

December: Was the worst month on record. I was car-less, dealing with a painful breakup, and too much dance meant no social life. Then the car returned, my team hit their stride and I started thinking less and acting more.

November: I have no idea what happened in the month of November. I looked at my posts and from what I can tell, I voted and fell down a lot.

October: Dance began again, right as I was starting to feel comfortable in my new job. Every time I find balance, I find some way to throw a wrench in it. This imbalance was so necessary.

September: I quit my job, flew to Nashville to see Joel for Labor Day Weekend, then started my new job. This two-week period was by far the most stressful yet exhilarating time of the whole year.

August: Was quiet. I was freelancing, and being wined and dined, and exploring Minneapolis. I was recommended for a new job and had no idea how much my professional life was about to change.

July: I moved out! Words cannot express how much I love my apartment, and how upset I'll be when it comes time to move out.

June: I house and cat-sat for a co-worker. If you think this wasn't a highlight, then you've never lived at home with your parents as an adult. I drank wine, watched West Wing until 2 AM, and blasted Etta James while baking zucchini bread in a kitchen that wasn't mine. (Thanks, Sue! It was fabulous.)

May: I took on my first freelancing project, for Chevy. Before I could blink I was knee-deep in event planning and discussing turbo-charged engines with car enthusiasts. Guess which one of those I was better at?

April: I participated in the April blogging challenge which forced me to read and reflect on something each day. I think this may have been my favorite challenge so far because I was learning so much from the other bloggers and loved sharing my opinions with them.

March: I visited Teresa in Madison and stayed in the same bedroom I lived in my senior year, which led to the most surreal wake-up experience of my life.

February: My first season as a coach ended on a high note, and I bought a car. These acted as the springboard for my first post-college relationship. I leapt in full-force without looking back.

January: I celebrated my one-year anniversary at Job 1.0, and basically lost my $hit after a semi-rough review. I threw myself into coaching to make up for the lack of confidence I felt at work.

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Here's to 2011 being filled with just as much imbalance, chaos and stress and as much warmth, love and support as 2010 had.

Song of the Day: Auld Lang Syne, Mairi Campbell

2010-12-31T12:11:00.005-06:00

Like everyone else on the planet, I first heard this rendition in the Sex and the City movie. I went to painstaking efforts (THREE Google searches) to find a video that didn't include Carrie and Miranda holding each other due to their brief absence of manfriends, so please enjoy this delightful montage of holiday images below. Ignore where it says "Happy New Year 2010, Connie". Unless you're a time traveler named Connie, in which case - Welcome to 2010! Sell your BP stock.

Happy New Year, internet friends. I hope you have as good a feeling about 2011 as I do.

Achieve (Reverb10, Day 28)

2010-12-28T16:47:00.004-06:00

December 28 – Achieve
What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today.

(Author: Tara Sophia Mohr)

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I've had really insightful conversations with a few male friends over the course of the past week. In each instance, we've ended up discussing how best to move on from a difficult situation - how to achieve a balance so that you neither dwell for too long nor blast forward unhealthily. As one of them astutely put it, "Life is, in the end, about how you deal with the moments of instability." So this year, I want to achieve resilience.

There's no one trick to being resilient. Both your strategy and underlying tactics will change depending on what you are trying to move past - a failed relationship or friendship, the end of a job, the realization that you might not achieve what you set out to do. Perhaps even the realization that you aren't the type of person you always hoped you'd be.

But resilience does have one common thread regardless of the situation: consciousness. Forcing yourself to accept that something difficult happened. Then, reflecting honestly on how it happened, who was at fault, how your character and judgment may have affected the situation. Finally, the ability to move past with purpose so your internal cues are not directed by damage or uncertainty.

Time and circumstance can chip away at the person you intend to be, if you don't stop them. Resilience is about wading through at your own pace so you can learn from your mistakes while keeping both eyes on the future.

So - how will I feel when I "achieve resilience"? Probably healthy, whole, alive, grateful. Less guilty, confused, and cynical. It could be pretty life-changing, so I intend to start right now.

Thanks to Reverb for forcing me into intimacy on this page. Yikes was this a difficult one.

Song of the Day: Brett Dennen, Can't Slow Down

2010-12-22T11:00:00.003-06:00

One of the fabulous bloggers I've discovered during Reverb10 is Tami. Tami does a "Song of the Day" and as I tend to listen to the same song on repeat unti I've exhuasted myself, I'm trying to start sharing my obsessions with y'all.

If you think there's anything better than a red-headed folk singer, you're sadly mistaken. Brett Dennen is the bee's knees, or as my mom likes to say, the cat's ass. (No clue, but it's pretty fun to say.)

This song is pretty much a shoutout to the 20-somethings still figuring it out. Hey, that's me! And probably you, if you read this blog.

Future Self (Reverb10, Day 21)

2010-12-21T16:24:00.007-06:00

December 21 – Future Self.

Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?) (Author: Jenny Blake)

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1. Date! Date! Date!

2. Go with your instincts at dance. Fight for the girls who are supposed to be there. But don't ignore the ones who are pissed off all the time- they have a reason. Teach them how to use their emotions to heighten their performance.

3. Aside from taking off time to save your sanity, save up your PTO. The trip to Europe could happen and even if it doesn't, you'll have free staycation time during the two-month period of warm weather in MN.

4. Buy that MacBook. Your seven year old ThinkPad is stifling your creativity.

5. When dance ends, find another freelancing gig, preferably writing-based.

6. Start cooking again. Your three-week stint in October was not a fluke.

______

Bonus - 10 years ago:

1. The ballet teacher who squeezes your thighs and clucks hasn't eaten since before you were born. Ignore her and carry on with your carb-loving ways.

2. In fact, keep eating banana chocolate chip muffins for breakfast and lunch daily because that won't always be an option. Don't stop until your pants get too tight, most likely in fall 2006.

3. The guy who flirts with you via AIM and then ignores you in the hallway will come close to failing out of high school. His cold shoulder will bring you closer to the friends you're supposed to have - the ones with A averages, quick wits and bright futures. Stop being so pathetic about it.

4. Despite what your teacher tells you, you will get into college if you drop advanced chemistry in favor of journalism.

5. Before you ask that woman to cornrow your hair for sophomore winter formal, ask yourself, "Is this really a good look for me?"

Double bonus to myself five years ago: No, you shouldn't go to that frat party.

Lesson Learned (Reverb10, Day 17)

2010-12-17T11:22:00.004-06:00

December 17 – Lesson Learned
What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward? (Author: Tara Weaver)

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I've always known that I'm a high-level spaz who can also handle a decent amount of stress and chaos. That is to say, I might not look pretty doing it but I can rock a litany of tasks without completely effing them all up.

Until a few weeks ago, when this happened.

I learned on this day that I not only have a breaking point, I should never let myself hit it. Because while other people's breaking points end in calm, quiet mental breakdowns they share with only their closest sphere, I apparently lose focus and accidentally drive myself into parking lot barriers.

I've begun to look at my day and decide when too much is squeezed into it. Then, I alter the day's timing as much as possible by getting to work early or using PTO if absolutely necessary. While I of course prefer to use PTO for exotic vacations, I've learned that it's in my best interest to utilize it as a sanity-reinforcer too. When used appropriately, two hour early leave times can save day while barely putting a dent into my free time bucket.

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On a side note, I've also learned that if you threaten to quit the blogosphere one day and then come back the next, you will be ripped on in your comments by people with really good math skills. Dan, prompts for Reverb10 can be found here.

Appreciate (Reverb10, Day 14)

2010-12-17T11:18:00.002-06:00

December 14 – Appreciate
What’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it? (Author: Victoria Klein)

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The support of my girlfriends.

A few years ago, on winter break from college, we all mentioned how stressed we were trying to fit in girls’ nights, date nights, family time, personal time. Right then, a few of us made a policy. It basically boils down to “I support you.” Cheese-tastic, but it works.

If you need the gym more than you need a wine night, then you should hop on the treadmill and not look back (because you’ll fall). If you want to sit at home and watch three seasons of 24 (you know who you are), instead of coming out to the bar, that’s your right. If date night falls on the same night as a really important communal walk to Chipotle, it’s okay that you casually bow out.

When one of my closest friends recently announced she was moving in February and we made hasty plans for a celebration night, she asked us not to cry. And it honestly hadn’t occurred to me to be sad quite yet. She’s taking a huge risk in order to pursue a fabulous and challenging future - that’s what all friends should wish for one another. I don't believe there's room for high levels of selfishness in truly adult friendships. I'm grateful to have friends who feel the same.

This year was challenging, in terms of finding the time for one another – we juggled school, demanding full-time jobs, second jobs, long-distance relationships. Yet it is nothing compared to what is coming in our next chapter- all of the above but also kids, husbands, carpools, houses, and probably extensive therapy to deal with all of it.

The juxtaposition of time and circumstance will perhaps unravel our bonds a bit, but for right now we’ve created a bubble of support and love that has allowed us all to grow in the thousand directions in which we’re supposed to be growing. And I look forward to appreciating them all for decades to come.

Wipeout!

2010-12-16T12:25:00.003-06:00

Back in the day, I was moved up a level in a tap dancing class. Along with the more difficult choreography came a pair of tap shoes with heels. There I was - gawkward, pre-pubescent, shuffling around the studio like Bambi on ice. I could not walk, much less flap-ball-change in these babies. My teacher looked immediately regretful.

I was undeterred. This team was wearing black tuxedo outfits with a built-in sparkly blue vest/tie combination. There was talk of a matching top hat if we sold enough poinsettias in our Christmas fundraiser. This was the big time.

I spent the next week walking circles around our postage-stamp kitchen, holding on to the cupboards for dear life. First, a sad little march with my knee leading the way. Then a smaller toe-heel balancing act. Then heel toe. This is how, at age 11, I learned how to walk (and triple-time-step) confidently in heels.

That’s also how I came to judge women who can’t walk in heels. Not to say that I have an enviable stiletto strut, I just think one of the rules of wearing heels is to not look like you’re playing dress up. Moreover, fabulous ballet flats and riding boots for any occasion have never been easier to find. There’s really no need to wear heels if you are going to look like a goober the entire day.

At least, that’s how I used to feel. Then I bought a new pair of boots… and wiped out twice in one day. These boots are the devil, in soft-black-leather-with-exposed-gold-zipper-down-the-side form. They were also dirt cheap, so my original plan was to just scrap them altogether.

Then I remembered all the effort my 11 year old self put into the art of wearing a good looking heel. And I got back on the horse. Dubbing them my "fall boots" - as in face plant, not autumn - I started to wear them to public places where I was terrified of wiping out.

Stop One: Miss Minnesota USA pageant
My cousin was a contestant and I could think of no worse place to biff than an auditorium full of professional walking coaches and judgy stage moms. Off I went. Then, my cousin won the whole thing and began gesturing wildly for all of us to join her onstage for a photo op. I’d be lying if I said my mind wasn’t filled 90% with abject fear, and 10% with excitement for her win at that point. I prevailed. (I also took this as the best possible opportunity to test out the “hand on the hip, chest out” photo pose that all my dancers are so fond of. Not for me.)

Stop Two: The Fall Lobby
I’ve worn said boots to work three times since the fated two falls, and it seems as long as I focus only on walking, I can remain upright. (Not the most efficient work strategy, though.)

Stop Three: Mall of America
Hey, did you know they put in a new super slippery floor on the fancy South side of the mall near the Apple store? They did. Yesterday I happily clacked across the entire mall and then, down five trecherous outdoor flights of stairs on the way to a coworker’s car after. There was a small misstep that required the handrail.

Next stops are unknown. Shoveling the snow-ridden streets of Minneapolis? Dimly lit Christmas Eve mass complete with lighting a personal taper candle? New Year’s Eve? Bring it on. I'm dubbing winter 2011 "Amazing Race: SatanBoots". No challenge is too ridiculous.

5 Minutes (Reverb10, Day 15)

2010-12-15T11:41:00.004-06:00

December 15 – 5 Minutes
Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010. (Author: Patti Digh)

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Much like Sara and Greta, I'm lacking the original spark I felt for Reverb10. I'm not sure I'm the right type of blogger for this project. Nevertheless, here are the top moments of 2010 I'd never want to forget.

Getting the new job

Mary's return home from the Peace Corps

Moving out

My dance team placing 2nd in MN State Tournament

Landing my first freelance project

This moment in my relationship with ex-BF

My trip to Nashville to see Joel

Body Integration, Action (Reverb10, Day 12 and 13)

2010-12-13T11:35:00.005-06:00

December 12 – Body Integration
This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present? (Author: Patrick Reynolds)

I've had a few great runs around Isles this year, though I can't remember specific details. As for losing sight of where my mind and body begin and end? Never going to happen. I'm hyper-cognizant. And that's okay.

December 13 – Action
When it comes to aspirations, it’s not about ideas. It’s about making ideas happen. What’s your next step? (Author: Scott Belsky)

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Oh, Reverb. I don't think I am as bright and misty-eyed as you want me to be.

Anyway, I just made a lot of things happen. So much so, that I'm going to need some time to adjust and breathe before I set off on a new set of aspirations. For now, I am just thinking of ideas instead of making them happen. And that's also, okay.

11 Things (Reverb10, Day 11)

2010-12-13T11:18:00.002-06:00

December 11 – 11 Things
What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life? (Author: Sam Davidson)

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1. Chronic guilt, as previously mentioned.

2. Obsessive celebrity gossip stalking. My fabulous ex co-worker mails me her OK! castoffs, so I’m not exactly going cold turkey. I’ve just realized that one magazine per week provides more than enough fodder on the idiocy that is the Kardashian family. Plus, the dresses look prettier on the glossy pages than they do online.

3. Using my phone while driving. I wasn’t using my phone when I got in my accident, but I do use it a lot otherwise. This is a poor choice because I'm the world's worst driver.

4. Underestimating the time it takes to get from A to B. When I judge the amount of time it takes to get somewhere, I round DOWN. Then, I’m late and crabby. So, I will round up. This is not rocket science.

5. Soda. I should probably only have one bad drinking habit (that being coffee, chill out), so I’m cutting soda. It never tastes as good as I want it to anyway.

6. Lean Cuisines and other frozen microwaved meals. Alright I’m going to be honest. I eat them almost every day for lunch. There’s no way I can cut them 100%. However, I’m not sure that they’re really food, they don’t fill me up, and I generally spend my entire six forkfuls grumbling about how disgusting they are. Here’s to me getting off my lazy bum and DOING. SOMETHING. ABOUT. IT.

7. Artificial sugar. This won't be hard - I’ve never liked it anyway and now all these studies are coming out about rats getting cancer or whatever and it seems like a lot of awfulness could be avoided if people weren’t chugging Crystal Light all the time (Joel, this is not a personal attack). Also I don’t eat enough regular sugar to be concerned about having to find a substitute.

8. Being oblivious. I spend too much thinking and not enough time paying attention to what’s actually happening. Dream state is all well and good until I realize I haven’t cleaned my apartment in three weeks.

9. Bags. Roomie and I all but have a contest to see how many bags we can carry each morning. I’ve always got my purse, bag of dance clothes, bag of dance logistical stuff, food for the fifteen hour day I’m about to embark on, etc. There has to be an easier way.

10. Trying to like rap. Kanye's newest is allegedly the greatest album in years. Every track I've heard so far, I hate. Does this make me a bad music fan? Probably. Am I okay with that? Very much so.

11. Making lists that I probably won’t stick to. Like the one above.

Wisdom (Reverb10, Day 10)

2010-12-10T17:10:00.000-06:00

December 10 – Wisdom
What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out? (Author: Susannah Conway)

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I’ve written about this a little, but the wisest decision I made this year was to leave my old company. The decision was not easy – I loved my company, the industry, my co-workers. But when it came down to the wire, I didn’t love my job. As the lowest on the totem pole, I was spending the majority of my time on a litany of small tasks that fell to me by default. There wasn’t enough time for me to work on my development, and there wasn’t enough hope that someday soon, I’d be promoted out of this catch-all role.

When a woman I was freelancing with told me about a writing and social media position, I asked her to recommend me without thinking twice. Then I started to panic, which only relented in the middle of my interview two days later. I was explaining my college major, Rhetoric, and how the study of Greek philosophers is still relevant in the marketing world today when I realized that I didn’t even recognize myself. I was confident, bright-eyed, well-spoken, engaging. I had ideas.

I soon realized my presence in that interview came from a desire to be heard out, a need to be involved on strategy instead of just tactical execution. The new job would be an exit from entry level and into the 2nd tier, an opportunity I knew I was ready for.

Then I got the offer. Immediately, I thought of the self-directed projects I’d been working on, how the social media strategy I’d slaved over would now be dead in the water. I was bummed that I’d be stepping out before making my impact. I was an emotional mess, and I felt like a quitter.

I wondered what would have happened if I’d fought for a bigger role, taken on more duties, worked longer hours to propel my career forward instead of letting myself feel stifled in an admin role. I won’t ever know for sure, but I do know that in my new job I’ve been growing, naturally, into a more insightful and strategic thinker, and a better writer. I’m trusting myself more and I’m making more recommendations.

The wisest decision I made all year, then, was not just to leave one job in favor of another. It was to push myself forward before I was ready, and to not look back wondering what could have been.

Party (Reverb, Day 9)

2010-12-10T12:49:00.003-06:00

December 9 – Party
Prompt: Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans. (Author: Shauna Reid)

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The best party of the year, or at least the best one to write about, was our Around the World Apartment Crawl this October. To celebrate the migration of my friend group to Uptown this year, we hosted an apartment crawl where each apartment represented a different country.

We started the night in Spain. We drank sangria, and otherwise tried to get ourselves inebriated enough to take down a piñata. (We also played Pin the Tail on the Donkey, if you're wondering about our level of commitment to being culturally appropriate.) The highlight of Spain? I broke the piñata. When I removed my blindfold, I was horrified to see that each of my friends half-heartedly picked up one piece of candy instead of dive-bombing the floor. I guess we’re all adults after all. Sort of.

Next we headed South (but really, one mile due North) to Mexico, for margaritas, Dos Equis/Corona, and homemade guacamole and salsa. This is where we really started to pick up steam. Tequila flowed liberally into each handmade marg. I'm a bit blurry on other people's actions, but I focused most of my attention here on a male friend who was wearing Crocs without shame.

Next was America. We celebrated our immersion into American culture by playing “Proud to be an American” on my phone during our two-block walk. There, we drank Strip-And-Go-Nakeds (Beer, Vodka, Lime-ade) out of a large Rubbermaid container, and the boys had a dance-off of sorts. (See the redhead's one-handed push-up in the collage below.)

The last stop on the list was my apartment. Roomie and I decorated for a Caribbean theme, complete with rum punch, some awful paper decorations that were much more suited for Hawaii, and the coup de gras - a crock pot of Jamaican Jerk Chicken. With the gut rot sinking in from sangria, margs, strip-n-gos and now punch, the sandwiches were a necessary addition. As a grand finale, roomie and I had our own short dance-off that included my tap dancing skills and her famed (for its awfulness) heel click.

I highly suggest trying out an apartment crawl if you need a bar-free night and live in close proximity to friends.

This post is also to take part in KC's New Media Challenge. I saw a post from a challenge participant, Mary, featuring a collage from bighugelabs.com and I loved it. Mine has a huge watermark because I refused to pay $25 to better represent what was probably one of the more irresponsible nights of my year.

Beautifully Different (Reverb10, Day 8)

2010-12-08T10:35:00.004-06:00

December 8 – Beautifully Different
Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful. (Author: Karen Walrond)

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Hey at least our prompts are lightening up, eh gang? Is anyone else noticing there is NO ROOM FOR SARCASM IN THIS CHALLENGE?? I’m gasping for air here, people.

Now that I’ve got that out, I think I can start. What makes me different is that I’m the catalyst for weird within my friend group. I reflected on this on Mother’s Day, when I shared that my strangeness is a direct result of growing up in a family where goofiness was currency. Until I was a teenager, I assumed everyone’s dad had an original song they sang to their mom (my dad’s being “Boooootiful Sheera (broken English for Beautiful Sheila), you’re so cuuuuuuuuute!”) when she was yelling at a gaggle of children not to eat an entire box of fruit snacks in one day.
Turns out, it was just my family.

It probably would have been easier not to make up nicknames, songs, words and ‘bits’ (Tali and I being the transgender lesbian moms of our adopted son, Joel, being the best and longest running) to keep myself occupied. Looking back, however, I can’t think of a time where my proclivity towards kook has resulted in negativity. I could just be oblivious but I prefer to think that most people are weird and afraid to own it. When they see people acting like fools, almost all appreciate the silliness and some take it as a much-needed invitation to let their freak flags fly.

Now, as an adult, originality is a spark for everything I do well – coaching, writing for my company as well as this blog, being a good friend, keeping my sanity in moments of high pressure and chaos. I’m so glad that as a kid my parents were never the ones hissing in the grocery store “Can you just act normal for once?!”

I think they knew they didn't have a leg to stand on.

Bootiful Sheera and John, Halloween 2010

Community (Reverb10, Day 7)

2010-12-07T22:42:00.004-06:00

December 7: Community
Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011? (Author: Cali Harris)

________

I can't talk about community without discussing the group of friends that I have known for going on twenty years. My roommate, many close girlfriends and the artist formerly known as BF all met in grade school and have been linked ever since. This year we've grown especially close as we finally segued fully into adulthood. In the end, thought, I don't think I could ever do a better job explaining what these people mean to me than I did on the worst day of our collective friendship.

Another community that has become especially important to me over the past year is my dance community. As you may know, I am a dance team coach at my former high school.

The MN dance community is notoriously tight-knit, but our school one-ups that stereotype. Of the eight coaches leading the Varsity, Junior Varsity, and middle school team, seven are alumni. Six days a week, five months a year, we return to the dungeon gym we once danced in to teach teenage girls how to kick, turn and leap their way to a first-place finish.

Having alumni coaches widens an already large net. Over the course of the season, I meet current dancer's parents, grandparents, and especially their little sisters who tell me how many years it will be until they're on my team. At competitions, I see other alumni dancers - some I coached last year, some I danced with, some who were on the team 15 years ago that have to explain to me who they are. All are equally enthusiastic, all sport team colors. I get texts and emails and Facebook posts from other alumni across the country who watch videos on YouTube to stay up to date. One mom whose daughters were on the team with me ten years ago grills me for details each time she checks me out at Gap, and I willingly oblige.

It might look like we're just kicking to the high heavens for a solid four minutes, but the truth is that this sport is intense. It requires immense dedication and talent, and for most it will be the culmination of a lifetime of dancing. This team was fundamental in my growth as a dancer and as a young woman. I coach not only because I know how to fan kick, but because I know that the confidence I have now can be traced back to the lessons of dedication and perseverence I learned in my years on the team.

My two communities, I guess, are equally crazy. I've known many of my closest friends since I was eight. I spend my weekends trapped in gyms where moms talk to me about rhinestoning patterns and music tempo.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

If you're wondering what the eff dance team is, anyway, here's a video of my gals last year at the state tournament.

Make (Reverb10, Day 6)

2010-12-06T11:27:00.005-06:00

December 6 – Make.
What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it? (Author: Gretchen Rubin)

______

The last thing I made was the photo frame collage above my couch. As I mentioned before, my roommate furnished our entire apartment when we moved in. Saint that she is, she even found me a full-sized bed because, she said, "I just cannot let you move into our grown-up apartment with a twin bed". Oh, how right she was - I've been sleeping in said twin bed at my parent's house this past week as my car gets put back together. Is it possible to feel claustrophobic while sleeping?

I digress. My only role in the move-in was decor. I put myself to work, gathering old-ish frames, clocks and mirrors to slap against the main wall in our living room. Then I put that box away for five months, taking it out when a combination flu/winter storm kept me indoors a few weekends ago.

My original goal was this, which I saw via Ordinary Shan:

This is what I have so far. It looks like crap in this photo so you'll have to take my word that it's sweet in real life. We're hoping to add a lot more frames and roomie's gorgeous photography will eventually replace the 'art' that I cut up (thanks, 2007 Van Gogh calendar!) and threw in.

You should know the middle frame doesn't have a creepy bust of a woman taking a picture of herself. That's just my fabulous photography skills at work.