Golden Gal

I heart D.C.

2008-04-30T09:16:00.000-07:00

Washington, D.C., is my new favorite city. There's just something about the natural beauty of the place combined with its almost breathtaking history and significance. We just missed the annual blooming of the cherry blossom trees, but it almost didn't matter - the place was still gorgeous. And though I was only there for two extremely short and jam-packed days, I've decided I want to live there. For real. Yes, it's just a fantasy now (the cost of living there being what it is), but I feel it's one that may have some roots in reality.

My best friend, recently heartbroken for the second time in a year, has decided to move back to Kansas City, to "heal her soul" among other things. While in D.C., we came up with an evil-genius plan to move somewhere exciting after she's been in Kansas City for a year. I'm (we're) thinking that place could be D.C. Probably, this is just a pipe dream. Probably, the logistics of moving there would be too complicated. Probably, I won't even want to think about being that far away from my family. But "probably" is no guarantee.

I'm a very decisive person, and one who is extremely quick about her decisiveness. I know what I want, and I usually find a way of getting it. I want D.C. And I have a little over a year to figure out how to get my butt (and Ashley's) there.

I missed you, too!

2008-04-24T07:31:00.000-07:00

Work has been an absolute bear. And if you know me at all (from this blog or in real life), you know how I feel about bears. They only exist to torment and maim, draining all life from their terrified victims. And those claws. Dude.

I hate excuses, but I'm going to make a big one here: I haven't posted for over a month because of work. I spend all day at the computer, writing, editing, and doing other things that have to do with writing and editing, and when I come home at the end of the day? I. Do. Not. Want. To. Write. Another. Word. Plain and simple.

But now that I'm finally getting some breathing room at work, I decided it's time to come out of retirement. Don't hang up my Blogger jersey just yet.

So enter a list of stuff that's happened while I've been in absentia, because I can't exactly just dive back in here with a real post or anything. Sheesh. Baby steps.

NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP, BITCHES!!!!!!!!!! I've never been more proud of anything or anyone in my whole life. Those boys deserved that. And Roy, I forgive you. I guess.
The boyfriend and I booked a vacation to Puerto Vallarta for mid-June. Sort of a last hurrah before he leaves for South Korea. It will certainly be bittersweet, but in the absolute best way. Beach? Sun? Ocean? Mountains? Bottomless margaritas? Check, check, check, check, and check.
As a natural consequence of booking a beach vacation, I tried on a bikini from last year. And, you know, I knew I was more wobbly now than I was even a year ago. What I didn't realize was that the wobbly bits weren't just in select places. My entire body was a wobbly bit when I looked in that mirror. So I started exercising. Yes, you read that correctly. I've worked out more in the last two weeks than I have in the last year.
I also said I was going to eat healthier, but a girl can give up only so many vices.
Bought quite a few items of clothing and at least two pairs of shoes. See above re: vices.
Got a raise.
Enjoyed the change in weather by going to lots of happy hours with friends.

Hmmmm. That's all I can think of right now. Enjoy your weekend - I'm leaving tonight for Washington, D.C. Update upon return, I promise!

Losing battle

2008-03-14T12:35:00.000-07:00

This first full day of being 24 is kicking my ass. There's the aborted trip to the vending machine for M&Ms (they cost a freaking DOLLAR? And wait, they're all GONE?!?), the really supremely bad hair day, the sweaty palm syndrome that seems to be here for the long haul, and the hour-long excursion to the DMV that went shamefully bad (I need proof of U.S. citizenship? Whaaaaa...?).

So the beginning of year 24 looks like this: I'm an illegal driver with frizzy (yet limp) hair, sweaty palms that can barely grip the wheel, low blood sugar, and zero patience.

I'll make it home from work without getting pulled over, right? RIGHT?

Age 24: 1

Kaitlin: 0

Alphabetica: A

2008-03-11T12:13:00.000-07:00

Well, I crawled out of my cave this morning and discovered the temperature to be a balmy 64 degrees. Such a happy reprieve calls for storytime.

I stole this idea from City Wendy, who ripped it off from Amy Krouse Rosenthal's Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. But it's a good one, I promise. The idea is to write snatches about your life prompted by single words as determined by the alphabet's progression. Here we go, starting (obviously) with A.

A: Academics

The bar was always set a little higher for me. Maybe because I had proven myself as far back as preschool. Maybe because I was born first and inherently expected to set an example. Or maybe because I was, simply, a girl. It doesn't really matter which it was, what matters is that academics became my priority. Anything less than a B was unacceptable, and even that was dipping a little low.

Though my parents always expected me to do my best, and though I certainly felt great pressure to succeed, I never resented them for it. Probably because I didn't have to try very hard. Had it been any other way, I'm sure my resent would have been palpable.

But instead, I sailed right on through. In elementary school, I was in the highest reading groups and won the school spelling bee. In high school, I was the curve-setter, enrolled in numerous AP classes and graduating in the top 10 percent of my class. I was a Mt. Oread Scholar in college and did well to balance my schoolwork with my, ahem, social obligations. On the whole it was, for lack of a better word, easy. I got high grades without really taxing myself, letting projects and assigned reading idle in my backpack until the night before the due date. All to good results.

But there was one falter in my stroll through the park. It came during my junior year in high school. I was never cocky about my academic prowess (to anyone but my brother, that is), but it nonetheless came as a shock when I couldn't for the life of me grasp the concept of chemistry. It just. Wasn't. Making. Sense. And though I wasn't failing, I wasn't passing with the flying colors I had become so accustomed to. So, with my parents' urging and assistance, I got a tutor.

I don't remember how many times I went over to her house for chemistry lessons. Only that I completely wore down the erasers on my pencils and had to endure the cloying smell of whatever she had cooked for dinner for the hour I was there. She wore baggy sweatshirts and her glasses hung in a chain around her neck when they weren't perched on her nose. But with her help, my grade slowly crawled back up, though I don't think it ever hit the mark I wanted it to. (To be completely frank, math and science have never been buddies of mine. But it was chemistry that bogged me down the most.)

In the dense nostalgia that followed college graduation, I would look back on all my years of academics, only to realize that I was forever fleeing that at which I was best. Though I may adamantly state otherwise, I miss it dearly. School. The crackle of a new textbook, the anticipation of a test score, the harried studying. Everything. I should have been a teacher.

(sigh)

2008-03-07T13:52:00.000-08:00

This unrelenting winter has driven me to new motivational lows. "Ennui" just about sums it up. I find myself sitting at my desk, completely devoid of any compulsion to work. I stare at my to-do list and then check my gmail account. I attempt to start my monthly report and then go to shopbop to see what's new. I'm sick of the itchy wool sweaters and the boots tucked into jeans and the long double-lined winter coats. I'm sick of staticky hair and chapped lips and using so much lotion in the morning that I could act as a melon-scented flytrap.

This hideous phase of winter, the phase where we fear there may never be an end to our icy agony, should have been over in February. That's why there's Valentine's Day, right? To perk us up and pull us out of our warm house-cocoons. And imbue us with fuzzy, glowy feelings when that witch Mother Nature isn't putting out.

I've never seen a better case for hibernation in my life. Wake me up when the word "dormant" can't be used to describe anything. And when the temperature hasn't dropped below 75 for at least two consecutive weeks. So, June. See you in June, friends.

P.S. - It's only 4:15 and I'm pretty sure I'm the only person left in the office. Methinks I'm not alone in my feelings. Now I just need to go find the cave they're all hibernating in. I bet there's beer.

Ahem

2008-02-29T13:56:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling the need to blog, but I don't have a specific topic (or even theme) in mind. Therefore: a list.

My friend and her mom are coming in town today, which forced me to do the spring cleaning that my apartment so desperately needed. Beware, dear reader: You might not think you're living in filth when, in actuality, your dust bunnies are more on par with elephants. Check under furniture with caution and something sturdier than a broom.
The cleaning (followed by more cleaning) left me no time for personal maintenance. My fingernails are still bare! The horror!
American Idol isn't really worth it anymore. If I hear one more "it was a little pitchy in spots for me, man" or "your vocal skills really are phenomenal" or "I just didn't get it," I may chuck a dust elephant at the screen. And then whine because my TV is cracked and I can't see David Archuleta sing.
I really like the new shirt I'm wearing today.
You know what TV show is worth it? Celebrity Apprentice. Yes, you read that correctly. Trace Adkins is my new hero. That crooked half-smile and ubiquitous cowboy hat get me every time. Not to mention The Voice.
I'm in the midst of reading World War Z. As one reviewer said, the author "commits to detail in a way that makes his nightmare world creepily plausible..." What more could a girl ask for in a zombie thriller?
I just replaced my antiquated (and severely limited in hindsight) Razr with a BlackBerry Curve on Wednesday. No major complaints after the 36 hours I've had it in my possession. Though if you have large fingers, compromised vision, or an extremely limited grasp of technology, stick with your Razr. Trust.
My birthday is in less than two weeks, followed by a surprise birthday celebration that weekend. Surprise in that I know it's happening, I just don't know what the plans are.
And THEN! How I Met Your Mother returns on St. Patrick's Day. What better reason is there to drink green beer?
I'm going to a wedding in Columbia, Mo., next weekend. The city of my alma mater's arch rival. I'm sure my skin will be crawling for the duration. Oh, and I don't have an outfit picked out yet. It's March - you can't plan ahead for those ides. It could be 31 and snowing or 75 with a tornado warning. Never can tell.

Five o'clock is rapidly approaching. I need to beat a hasty retreat outta here. Tune in again next week.

Now what?

2008-02-22T14:09:00.000-08:00

Okay, this is where I start to freak out. Who knew searching for an apartment would be this difficult? I've gotten my hopes up one too many times and it's resulted in the inevitable - utter lack of hope. Right now, I live in relative luxury - my roommate and I have a brand-new apartment (as in, they were still doing paint touch-ups and hanging light fixtures when we moved in), we have assigned parking spaces in a heated underground lot, the management is courteous and helpful, the location is fabulous, and we haven't had any neighbor problems whatsoever. And there's a pool, workout facility, and secure entrances.

My only complaint? I don't want a roommate anymore. I lived by myself last year and enjoyed it more than I ever thought I would. I want that again.

Hence, my search for the perfect (one-bedroom) apartment began. And, just as I tend to rush the seasons, I also tend to rush everything else - I won't need this apartment until August. Better to start early, though, right? That's what I thought.

Turns out the earlier you start, the sooner you'll be disappointed. I looked downtown first and was excited to see the abundance of lofts available, at fairly affordable prices to boot. I earmarked my favorites, looked at the floorplans with wistful eyes again and again, calculated what I would really be able to afford, and began decorating in my hopeful little head.

Ha.

That was before I read the reviews on these places. Dreadful. Horrible management. Walls so thin you can hear neighbors clearing their throats. Bums camping out in the halls. No parking. Break-ins. Pets doing their business in common indoor areas.

My urban dreams flew straight out that 7th-story loft's window.

So I turned to the suburbs. Where I found that anything even remotely decent was too far south, too far north, or too expensive.

"So move to a one-bedroom in your current complex," you say.

Double ha. The price of a one-bedroom here is nearly as high as the mortgage on a two-bedroom house. Not gonna happen.

Now, I ask you, what the hell do I do? I've looked everywhere in the metro area, including undesirable spots. And I'm stuck. And no, I can't afford to buy a house. I'm a single woman in her early (okay, almost mid) twenties. I've got a few years yet before that happens.

At this rate, I might as well move to Seoul with the boyfriend. (For those of you whose hackles were just raised: I'M ONLY KIDDING.)

Seoul-ful

2008-02-18T07:50:00.001-08:00

The same weekend I went to St. Louis for Mardi Gras, the boyfriend went to Iowa with a friend of his. Mainly to spend some quality time with this friend he only sees a few times a year, but also to, inadvertently, accompany him to a conference. The topic of the conference was mentioned to me briefly, but it flew in one ear and out the other. I was busy fretting over road conditions and whether I should pack a few extra pairs of socks.

Turns out the topic would change the boyfriend's life. Headmasters and recruiters from schools all over the world were there to hire American teachers and counselors for positions abroad. Way abroad. And, lo and behold, the boyfriend's sparkling personality and karmic ability to win every job he interviews for landed him two job offers. One in Seoul, South Korea, and one in Paraguay.

After two weeks of waffling and vacillating and long talks with all those close to him, the boyfriend finally made up his mind. He's leaving for a city outside of Seoul late this summer. He won't return to the United States permanently for two years.

Unlike the boyfriend, it took me all of three days to decide what I thought he should do. Although I'm fairly sure I haven't mentioned it here, the boyfriend is extremely unhappy with his job situation and would do just about anything to remedy it. Including moving as far away from his hometown as is humanly possible. (Coincidentally, Seoul is at nearly the same latitude as Kansas City, just on the other side of the earth.) So, in my mind, it was obvious: go and be happy or stay and be miserable. So, go.

And! Guess what this means? I get to be in an awesome long-distance relationship! (Please note the heavy dose of sarcasm.) And when I say "long," I mean looooooooooooooooooooong. As in, a 15-hour time difference and 24-hour flight away from eachother. As a rational human being, I know that that distance (both physical and emotional) would drive most sane couples apart. As of right now, we're wholly (and certifiably) insane.

I never, ever thought I would end up in a long-distance relationship (LDR). They always seemed ominous, signifying the inevitable end of what was surely doomed to begin with. I mean, it was only a matter of time before the couple moved on, right? Right. I would never succumb to an LDR. That was just bad sense. There was no reason to subject myself to that brand of torture.

Ha. Hahahahaha.

Will it work in our case? Obviously, I can't possibly know for sure. But then again, no one ever know for sure. About anything. All I do know is that we're going to do everything in our power to talk with as much regularity as we can, see eachother as often as possible, and use email for everything in between. Can a relationship be sustained by almost completely digital means? Maybe. Maybe not.

We'll give it our best shot, though.

Not that it will be easy. No, it's like I told him yesterday: We'll be both attached and single, without the perks of either. There will be tests and breaking points and strong forces of will. Hope and cynicism, battles and surrender. But I have complete faith that it's happening the way it's supposed to; my life, his life, our lives. Que sera, sera, eh?

Valentine's Day is for suckers

2008-02-14T13:04:00.001-08:00

You know, the heart-shaped kind on a stick that tastes like cherries. And probably has white "icing" on it that says I LUV U.

What, you thought I was an anti-V Day robot or something? Nah. I'm a sucker like that.

Now go kiss someone.

I'll worry about the "exercise" part later

2008-02-12T09:02:00.000-08:00

Lately I've been absolutely inundated with health and nutrition information. The blogs I read, the things I'm required to do (remember that mandatory blood test?), the annual doctor's appointment I have coming up, the industry I work in, the BLOGS I READ. It seems like, finally, the world is cottoning on to the fact that nearly everything we as Americans put in our mouths is intent on destroying our insides and wreaking havoc. Rationally, I understand that I need to eat more green things and less white things, but at what expense? I wouldn't really be me if I ate healthily. Granted, I do like the occasional broccoli tree or strawberry, but on a daily basis? Not so much.

And then I got my blood work back and let me tell ya, that did absolutely nothing to motivate better eating and more exercising. I mean, my cholesterol, glucose, and triglycerides were in normal, if not optimal, ranges and I was eating like crap and not working out! But the information and dire warnings keep flooding in without me looking for them. High fructose corn syrup is the devil! One high-fat, high-sugar meal will ruin you for life! Processed foods will cause cancer, diabetes, heart disease, and every other malady imaginable! Stay away from the inside aisles in supermarkets! Eat more fish! And olive oil! And nuts! DON'T EAT ANYTHING THAT TASTES GOOD TO YOU.

So I gave up chips for Lent.

With any luck, it will force me to eat healthier alternatives instead. For instance, I brought a salad to work today - romaine lettuce, avocadoes, shaved parmesan cheese, and honey dijon dressing. Except I left the dressing at home in my refrigerator. Which means the vending machine here at work is about the get assaulted by me. Again.

(Sigh.)

Miscellany

2008-02-08T08:36:00.001-08:00

So, there are big, life-changing events going on in the boyfriend's life which, to be honest, have occupied my mind a li-ttle bit more than updating my blog. As things pan out with his situation, updating may be even more sparse. Or more frequent. We shall see.

MARDI GRAS. Well, in two words: Never. Again. Not to complain too much, but I have had it up to my eyebrows with obnoxious, insensitive, immature boys. I don't think I've ever yelled at quite so many (I'm purposely not using the word "men" because they certainly weren't, despite holding college degrees) in such a short amount of time to shut the hell up, THIS IS NOT A SMOKING ROOM, get OFF of me, quit snoring, and did I mention SHUT THE HELL UP? Grrrrr. I'm certainly done putting up with that. And there were only two guys staying in our room with us. Though it felt like 57.

Mark my word, there will be no Mardi Gras '09 for me. Oh, and the drinking all day? Not my cup of tea (with a liberal amount of vodka, mind you) anymore.

In better (and more encouraging) news, I got the results of my mandatory blood work back. "Mandatory" because in order to maintain the preferred health insurance premium (very low co-pays, nearly free prescriptions, etc.) we had to get a full blood profile done, as well as blood pressure, weight, and waist circumference measurements. And guess what? I just may live longer than 30 years! Depsite my near-complete lack of exercising, my HDL (good) cholesterol is in the way-better-than-average range, and my LDL (bad) cholesterol is really low. Woo hoo! Thanks, Mom, for what I presume are your good genes.

Boring, boring, boring, I know. What you really wanna hear about is that news I mentioned in the first paragraph. I'm not quite ready to blog about it, as the boyfriend reads this (although not, I think, with any regularity) and I'm not willing to "publish" my thoughts on the issue(s) as of yet. When I know what's going to happen and have developed a fully-formed opinion and plan, I'll spill. Just not yet.

Snow, shmoe

2008-02-01T12:10:00.000-08:00

Well, it looks like yesterday's Urge was fighting a losing battle. The credit card gods will probably thank me come Monday morning. My wardrobe, however, will not. Ah, well. St. Louis, here I come! You better hope you have enough beads and booze to spare.

Let it snow

2008-01-31T12:39:00.000-08:00

Bad news on the Mardi Gras front. If you were to throw a dart at the area in the midwest that's supposed to get six to ten inches of snow by this time tomorrow, St. Louis would be the freaking bull's eye. And if you were to hit it, I'd buy you a beer. But that's beside the point.

Weather.com says the driving conditions tomorrow will be "extremely hazardous if not impossible." Sounds promising, doesn't it? Yeah, not so much. We're in the throes of deciding whether we're still young enough to bounce if we get tossed through a windshield. I'm thinking not.

So, odds are that I won't be imbibing hurricanes and begging for beads this weekend. At least not in the Lou.

In other news, it looks like I may make it through an entire five days of work this week. You see, two weeks ago, I was in Florida Tuesday through Sunday. And then last week was the Attack of the Killer Virus, causing me to take Thursday and Friday off. But this week, even though I still have remnants of the raspy machine gun, I just might make it through Friday! Woo hoo for me! No wait, boo hoo for me.

And now for a secret: I'm not exactly sad about the possibility of missing Mardi Gras. Because, well, I've had an increasingly strong and persistant urge to go shopping. It's been a while. The Urge is actually sitting on my shoulder right now, whispering at me to waste the whole weekend at stores I can't realistically afford. Shopping sounds mighty preferable to standing in the wind of downtown St. Louis, shivering and whining because I just dropped my phone in a half-frozen puddle and I really need to go to the bathroom but I can only find a porta potty and I just want to get something to eat and where's that camel back when I need it and is the line to this bar almost up? And why can't I see a TV? THE KU GAME IS ON.

I'm a raspy machine gun today

2008-01-28T14:29:00.000-08:00

Well, it was bound to happen at some point this year. The inevitable (and incurable) Loss of Any Discernible and/or Recognizable Voice. You see, every virus, every bacterial infection, every everything, heads directly for my throat. Lemme put it to you this way: If the germs clogging up my vocal chords right now were little Paris Hiltons and Lindsay Lohans, my throat would be jail. Or rehab. Or a store that sells lots of hideous leggings. Those little buggers just can't stay away.

I find myself clearing my throat approximately every six seconds. It's a lucky thing that both of my cubicle-mates are absent today. Otherwise, I may have been out a couple bucks due to the earplugs I would have purchased out of guilt. My throat-clearing, you understand (which the boyfriend so kindly pointed out), sounds like a machine gun. Staccato and loud. So very soothing in a work environment.

Oh, and this is really fun, too: Instead of saying "Hello" when I answer the phone, I get to whisper, "SorryI'mlosingmyvoicecanyouhearme?"

Ugh. Is it Friday yet?

The ABCs

2008-01-23T13:48:00.001-08:00

I'm not one of those people who are anti-meme. Primarily because, ahem, I need every creative (or not-so-creative) boost I can get. But also because I actually enjoy reading other people's answers and contributing my own. The following meme is borrowed from Unnaturally Blonde... because I'm severely lacking in creative juices. And also, I really enjoy procrastinating at work. It's my favorite pastime.

Age - 23, but not for long. The big double-dozen hits on March 13. Six months ago, I would have said I was completely unprepared to be solidly in my mid-twenties. Now, though, I'm more, oh... apathetic. Another birthday that's not 21? Eh.

Band I'm currently listening to: Well, she's not exactly a band in and of herself, but I think she plays the guitar... maybe... Colbie Callait. Love the song "Realize." "Bubbly" is a little overplayed, but I still think it's pretty cute.

Career future: Oof, this is a toughie. My dream job is to be in designer relations at a major magazine... but I'm about as far as possible from that right now. That said, I currently have a pretty cushy job... I get all the days off I ask for, I take liberties with my lunch break, and I've gotten three separate promotions and/or raises since I've been here (which is less than two years). We'll see where the wind takes me... your guess is as good as mine at this point.

Dad's first name: I don't think I'll be giving too much away when I say Chris. Known to some as "Uncle Bubba."

Easiest person to talk to: I probably won't be hurting any feelings or surprising anyone when I say my mom. Although the best friend and the boyfriend probably tie for a close second.

Favorite type of shoe: Heels. DUH. Does any other type exist? What other shoes can simultaneously make your legs look longer, your butt look perkier, and your posture look straighter? Exactly.

Grapes or grapefruit? Definitely green grapes. I like grapefruit juice, though... it's just that the actual fruit gives me pause. And I've learned not to stand around my brother when he's eating it (or even be within 15 feet of him). The spoon wedged in that thing makes for no end of flying, sour grapefruit juice. Extra points if it lands directly in your eye.

Hometown: Nope, nope, and nope. Eastern Kansas is all you'll get.

Instrumental talent: I played the piano for about five minutes and the clarinet for... hmmm... thirty seconds? I think that counts as "talent." After all, to this day I can still play the Jurassic Park theme song on the piano.

Juice of choice: Apple, by far.

Koala bear or panda bear: Not gonna lie, I just had to think seriously hard about the difference between those two. But now that I have it, definitely panda. Those babies (cubs? pups?) are seriously cute.

Longest car ride ever: Well, technically it was a bus ride, but close enough. I went to a summer camp in Sarasota, Fla. in middle school. We started in Kansas. Never again, thank you.

Middle name: Hmmm... nope, don't think so. I plead the fifth.

Number of jobs I've had: Including temporary summer jobs, I think I've had eight. Yikes.

OCD traits: Hold on, I need to go make sure my car is locked for the 57th time today... just kidding. I have several, but the most prominent include thoroughly rinsing the dishes before they go in the dishwasher, wiping down my bathroom sink before bed every night, and getting ready in the morning the exact same way every single day. If anything goes awry, I get slightly (okay, really) distraught and it makes me at least 10 minutes late.

Phobia(s): BEARS. Heights if my safety isn't guaranteed. Being in public without mascara on. Seriously.

Quote: Favorite quote or something quotable I've said? Well, I'll just be all humble and say I haven't ever said anything of note, other than "Where's the beer?"

Reasons to smile: Sunny skies. Fridays. Surprises from the boyfriend. Hearing my best friend laugh. Watching Golden Girls reruns (the reference is revealed!). My dog. A really good manicure. A rave review at work.

Song you sang last: I haven't sung something in its entirety in recent memory, but I hummed along with "Both Of Us'll Feel the Blast" by Waterdeep this morning.

Time you wake up on weekdays: 6:25 a.m. Ugh.

Unknown fact about me: I chew gum for at least three hours at a time.

Vegetable I hate: How about vegetable I don't hate? That would be much easier. Broccoli.

Worst habit: As the boyfriend would adamantly attest, picking the skin around my thumbs. Okay, sometimes other digits fall victim as well.

X-rays I've had: Dental and chest.

Yummiest food my belly likes: CHEESE!

Zodiac sign: Pisces. Definitely a fish.

Okay, that took up enough work time to satisfy me. Now I'm going to go be productive. And responsible. Wish me luck.

Seafood? Check. Beads? Soon.

2008-01-22T07:49:00.000-08:00

Aaaaand... I'm back. And you know what's kind of strange? Despite the fact that only two days ago I was in Florida, I'm incredibly happy to be back in Kansas City. Maybe it's the fact that the weather was less than ideal (rainy, windy, and hovering around 65 degrees), maybe it's the fact that I was living out of a suitcase for six days, or maybe it's the fact that my vacation diet consisted of seafood, followed by seafood, followed by a heaping pile of seafood. Whatever the case, home has never felt quite so good to come back to.

Though the weather in Kansas City actually did nip my nose (to the extreme) when I stepped out of the airport, I liked it. I mean, it's January, for crying out loud. It's supposed to be so flipping cold that you can't breathe without feeling like your lungs are made of ice crystals.

Obviously, I'm an enigma. Florida has seemingly rid me of my early-onset spring fever. Snow? Bring it on! Ice? More, please! Give me a few more days of this 12 degree weather, though. I'm sure it won't be long before I've developed the fever again.

But, however good it is to be back in winter where I belong, Florida was absolutely fantastic. A few highlights:

Picking out three increasingly delicious restaurants in a row. If you're interested (or going to Florida in the near future), they were: Billy's Tap Room, Ormond Beach Steakhouse, and Bergamo's. I ate seafood each and every day except for the last one, when we finally gorged on Wendy's. To my palate, each bite of seafood was a delicacy.
Trying raw oysters for the first time. A girl's gotta have some sense of adventure, right? Though, let me tell you, never again.
Sitting in the Mai Tai, an open-air bar just down the beach from our first hotel, listening to live music and drinking a Yeungling. Mmmmm... that's the life.
Wearing open-toed shoes and short sleeves, even if it wasn't exactly warm.
Drinking only moderately and never being hungover for more than a few hours. So... responsible!
Not spending all the cash I brought with me.
Looking at the ocean through the hotel window.
Going to Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure, which we thought wouldn't happen. First, when it appeared to be too expensive. And second, when the morning we were to go was drizzly and bone-chilling. We went anyway and had a really good time. If you do nothing else in Florida, go on the Spiderman ride at Islands of Adventure. It's worth the line, I promise.

My only regret? We never actually stepped foot in the ocean. Or even touched the water with a tentative toe. I blame the cloudy skies and brutal winds. And the fact that a bartender told us, in detail, how cold the water actually was this time of year.

All told, a great trip. So when's the next one?

Ah. Don't forget, my friends... Mardi Gras is in two weeks. Let the countdown begin.

Ignorance is bliss

2008-01-12T15:16:00.000-08:00

My work phone rang late in the afternoon on Thursday and, seeing that it was one of my bosses, I picked up rather quickly.

"Hi, [Boss #2]."

"Hi, K. Could you do me a favor tomorrow morning at nine? Do you have anything planned?"

"Hold on, let me check my calendar... nope, I'm free tomorrow morning. What do you need?"

"Well, a production company is coming to [entity within the organization] to film an educational video. Can you be there to cover it for me?"

"Sure. What's the video about?"

[Nonchalantly, as if this is a regular occurence] "Oh, they're filming the birth of a baby."

[Shrieking] "WHAT? DO I HAVE TO BE IN THE ROOM? I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN WATCH THAT, I MIGHT FAINT OR THROW UP OR... OR... DIE!"

Duly noting my reaction, Boss #2 had quite the little chuckle. And then continued to bully me into being there in her place. My reaction:

"............"

Turns out her own schedule was completely free, she just didn't want to see it either. She may be my boss, but I am most certainly not her bitch.

Moral of the story: my line in the sand (when it comes to work-related duties accepted from tyrant bosses) is drawn right before witnessing the birth of a baby. Because those kids I plan on having eventually? Probably wouldn't be born if I had to see that.

Ignoring those reports of a Floridian hard freeze

2008-01-08T13:55:00.000-08:00

It's January 8 and I have spring fever. It's officially hit, extra-early this year. Usually, it doesn't really kick in until after Valentine's Day but, you see, we just had a glorious weekend of 64-degree weather. In January. (I even drove with the sunroof open!) Something of a satanic reprieve from the icy temperatures of the last few weeks. It's almost unconscionable to think that there are at least three more months before that kind of weather becomes a regular event.

But then, me rushing the seasons is nothing new. In January, I want to see green buds on the trees and cerulean skies and just the hint of a cool breeze. In May, I want it to be 90 degrees, so sticky that I can't lay on my stomach in the sun for more than five minutes before I have to get in the pool. In August, I just want the leaves to change and the sun to freaking quit it already with its oppressive attitude. I'm usually pretty happy in October. But in November, I want there to be loads of snow and ice - in other words, it better be beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

But now is the time of year that I'm starting to get a little antsy. And allowing myself to wear short sleeves to work yesterday (the warm weather carried over into Monday), in hindsight, was a wee bit stupid. I can be such a tease.

Thank whoever's in charge that I'll be in Florida a week from today.

Did you say "naked"? In a hammock??

2008-01-04T09:07:00.000-08:00

Wow, so it just hit me that I haven't posted anything for over a week... I didn't exactly miss it, the posting, but I haven't been itching to get back to the keyboard either. Oh, well. I'm here now!

A recap of the holiday season:

Went to several holiday-type parties, the best of which was on New Year's Eve. Rang in 2008 with much sweat (dancing), champagne (in a plastic cup with a strawberry slice), and vigor (duh). Oh, and (how could I almost forget?!?) my new favorite dress.
Made absolutely no effort to resolve anything for the new year.
Hung out with the family for several days. Home-cooked meals! Fully-stocked cabinet! Leftovers galore! (I like food.)
Worked a mere day and a half during the eleven days between the weekend before Christmas and New Year's Day. I'm on consecutive day three back in the office and it hurts. The pain of staring at padded cubicle walls all day!
Laughed a LOT, at parties and with the fam. And then laughed some more. My facial muscles got a workout - does that count as exercise?
Farkled* close to ten times. And never lost. The bad karma is building up, I can feel it.

All in all, a great holiday season that was (as usual) far too short. But, BUT! There's Florida in a little over a week. Let the bikini panic begin.

*Farkle is a dice game that the boyfriend (and now I) can't get enough of. It's best played with a group, but two people will do just fine. There's complicated (for me) math involved and lots of rules to adjust to, but man is it FUN. The loser has to do something embarassing/disgusting/repellant. Hence, "What are we farkling for?" may be something like licking the toilet seat or laying naked in a hammock while the rest of the group pummels you with snowballs. (Both of which had to be done by people I know over the holidays. Ha.) Great game. You'd like it.

Holly jolly

2007-12-27T09:11:00.000-08:00

I have a raging headache. I can't decide if it's a case of post-holiday malaise or just a plain old "I really don't want to be at work right now and I had to get up BEFORE the crack of dawn so my head is rebelling" type of thing. Probably the second one. Actually, the vast majority of my headaches result from the second one.

Also, post-holiday malaise doesn't really register with me. I'm always still mentally rolling around naked in all the goodies I got for Christmas. Because Christmas presents are the kind I dream about for months, so when I finally get my hands on them, they inspire something akin to awe. Materialistic? Yes. Taken for granted? Not at all. Because Christmas presents for me are things that I can't afford to buy myself. Or at least wouldn't want to forgo electricity for.

What can I say? Shoes make me really happy.

Here's to hoping that everyone who reads this (all three of you!) had a wonderful Christmas and will have an even better new year.

Okay, if not money, maybe this

2007-12-21T08:17:00.001-08:00

So, my cubicle is directly adjacent to the department's kitchen. Normally, this is a really bad, bad, bad thing. The smells that waft out during lunch can be vicious. Sometimes heady and tantalizing, but usually of the burned popcorn/leftover tacos variety. But today, friends, the kitchen is producing a smell that has been making my stomach growl since 9 a.m.

It's our holiday potluck today, and the following foods are causing my stomach to contract in all its empty, longing glory:

Hashbrown casserole
Spicy buffalo wings
Some kind of yummy-looking soup
My spinach-artichoke dip
Cheese tray (CHEESE TRAY!)
Brownies with caramel on top and what looks like a graham cracker crust

I could go on, but writing this is just making it worse. Is it 11:30 yet? Every inhale of those fumes is making me a little crazier.

Oops, I never did it again

2007-12-20T07:39:00.000-08:00

Stephanie Klein recently invited her readers to finish the sentence, "I'm as lazy as..." One of her own top answers was "Susan." You know, like a lazy susan kitchen appliance. Hardy-har. Unfortunately, it seems that my answer is in fact my own name.

Because it's time to admit defeat (for the time being, at least). Remember a few weeks ago when I worked out? With enthusiasm and determination and a pretty cute outfit? (I didn't mention the outfit?) Well, that enthusiasm and determination has whittled itself down to "eh." And I just washed said cute outfit last night. Determination, shmermination.

I just can't seem to drum up any motivation whatsoever. Yes, I know I'm going to Florida in less than a month and I know my body could look so much better than it does and I know my major internal organs and muscle groups are begging me to do it and I know, I know, I know!

Still.

What's going to finally get me off the couch and onto the elliptical machine? I'm thinking money. That should do the trick.

Anyone want to put me on their payroll? I promise, I'll be a really good employee. I'll only take time off during the holidays and I'll never come in late. I'm reliable, dependable, and I can be counted on in a crisis. And I'll only charge $100 per workout. Anyone?

Because it isn't the week before Christmas without grumbling

2007-12-16T11:50:00.000-08:00

His hands cupped around a glass of warm sangria, a friend said, "It's a dangerous thing for work next week, but I feel like I'm already in Christmas mode, ya know?"

Oh, do I ever. This Christmas season, perhaps more than any in recent memory, really feels like Christmas. For one thing, there's actual snow on the ground. Snow. On the ground! And then there were the mad throngs of people dashing around the city last weekend (me included), despite the slick roads, checking gifts off their lists. And my brother's home from school, and it's cold but not freezing oh my God I think I'm gonna die, and there's snow on the ground (the sparkly kind that winks at me in the sun), and the guest room at my parents' house is officially "off limits" because of the piles of presents, and there's snow on the ground (the wet, slushy kind), and my mom and I are planning the Christmas day menu, and the inevitable panic is beginning to creep its stealthy little way into everyone's lives, and there's SNOW ON THE GROUND!

And here I am in my office writing about it. Yearning to leave here and be out there. What can I say? There are visions of freaking sugar plum (fairies) dancing in my head. And they're having a rollicking good time without me, swilling champagne and drifting around in their floaty, sparkly dresses.

(Always about the booze and clothes, isn't it?)

What do you mean, "It's only Tuesday"? I guess I should go do something productive, then. Something that involves grumbling to myself and maniacally checking the clock.

Hooky

2007-12-11T16:47:00.000-08:00

The weather was supposed to be bad, I swear. It was supposed to be below freezing, so below freezing that the incessant rain we were getting was meant to freeze into an inch-thick coating of ice. On everything. And last night, just about every single school district in the metropolitan area cancelled school for today.

But lemme tell ya, from now on I'm not trusting a meteorologist as far as I can throw him. Not only was it not below freezing, but it wasn't even slick enough to have to pump the brakes. Not even on side streets. Just a gloomy, rainy, slightly cold day. With skies the color of a dirty silver Honda.

But, ya know, I still didn't go to work. In solidarity with the students and all.

Betcha never thought you'd see this post

2007-12-06T12:17:00.001-08:00

Yes, it's true, I've done the seemingly impossible. I worked out on Tuesday.

If you read my "100 things," you know that exercise and I don't get along. At all. I much prefer stilettos to running shoes any day of the week. But the boyfriend went and asked me on Monday if I wanted to work out the next day, and before I knew it I said... "Sure!"

What's with the enthusiasm, you say? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that the muscle tone in my stomach, arms, thighs (yeah, everywhere) is kind of, um, gone.

If a situation ever needed rectifying for me, it's that one. And I can tell you from many years of experience, it's not going to be fixed by changing the way I eat. Give up chips? And beer? And cookies? And my beloved many tons of cheese? Yeah right. I shiver at the mere thought (read: go into sweaty convulsions of withdrawal).

Also, and now that I think about it, I'm sure this is the key here - I'm going to Florida with the boyfriend in January. Which means I have to wear a swim suit. In January. A swim suit. Sure, my skin can be as white as the snow falling outside this very minute, I can wear flip flops from four years ago, and I can even go down there without getting my roots done first. But expose my wobbly bits? Eeeeeeeew.

I may be a size 2, peeps, but that doesn't mean I don't have wobbly bits.

It's begun

2007-12-04T08:01:00.000-08:00

Last year, the high temperature was 21 degrees, there was a tortuous wind coming from, like, the North Pole, and it was snowing. Then sleeting. Then spitting. A "wintry mix," if you will. From hell. And yet we still managed to have a damn good time.

Hopefully this year will be a little warmer, a little less like the summit of Everest, a little kinder to our hurricane-/margarita-/beer-guzzling selves. And hopefully our beads won't freeze to our coats (from the dribbled hurricanes/margaritas/beer) and my roommate won't fear for her frostbitten digits.

"Can I be a nurse with no toes?"

The St. Louis Mardi Gras 2008 planning has begun. This year, there will only be nine people in our room. As opposed to 11. Three people to a bed and three on the floor? Done and done.

As if I needed any more reasons

2007-11-30T09:12:00.000-08:00

So, I had to settle up on a bet this morning. I won't say what it was about (if you remember, that day doesn't exist to me), only that I had to go to that most scary and intimidating place - Starbucks. Now, I don't drink coffee (except for that one time I had a latte with cinnamon and whipped cream. But if the coffee is really only 3 percent coffee and 97 percent sugar, can you really call it coffee? Hell, yes - THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO DRINK IT), so I didn't really know what I was getting myself into. Reason number 237 why I don't drink the stuff in the first place - complete ignorance.

"Um, what's your largest size?"

The "barrista" murmurs something and swiftly pulls a giant cardboard cup out of what is seemingly her apron.

"Uh, okay, one of those kind. Um, a latte."

"Is that all?"

[Looking around nervously] "Yes?"

"That'll be $3.81." Reason 238.

So I go and stand far away from the counter to wait for my name to be called. As soon as I get to said far-away space, I realize that, wait, the coffee-maker-girl is at the other freaking end, chatting uproariously with the customer who was behind me in line. Okay, I'll just wait here and act like I know what I'm doing. Reason 239.

"Venti latte!"

[Stand around, waiting to hear my name.] [30 minutes pass. Or maybe it was 30 seconds.]

"Venti latte for K!"

Ooooooooohhhh, that big one is called a "venti," not, you know, a "large." Reason 240.

I scurry over and grab the latte. All I can picture the entire way back to the office is that stupid, boiling, milky coffee managing to tip out of its cup and all over my new baby's lap (that would be the, uh, passenger seat). Reason 241.

Luckily, I managed to get back to the office without incident. But now my clothes smell like coffee breath. REASONS 242 THROUGH INFINITY.

But at least it doesn't wake me up at night

2007-11-29T08:41:00.001-08:00

You know that Ani Difranco song "Wishin' and Hopin'," right? Well, that's been me for about the last month (oh, okay, fine, year). Except my wish was for a big, sparkly VW Jetta. And - woo hoo! I can't contain myself! - I finally got one yesterday.

It's a brand-spanking-new 2008 white Jetta SE... with (drum roll) an iPod adapter in the center console. Not an auxiliary jack with an ugly cord - a hidden adapter that doesn't rely on radio waves for usage. (Thank God. Been there, done that constant contact sport - as in, stop touching the adapter and/or iPod for even a second and all sound clarity is lost, despite fiddling with the channels.) It also has leather(ette) seats, a sunroof, a six-disc CD changer, Sirius radio free for three months, heated seats, and chrome trim. None of which I've ever had in a car before.

I'm (metaphorically) jumping out of my desk chair right now. It's in the parking lot and I'm actually worried about it. My office's parking lot isn't striped, but we park in a marginally acceptable pattern anyway - but not me, not today. I purposely parked a good 10 feet from the car next to me. Ain't nobody gonna mess with her. (Yes, the Jetta is a she. Duh.)

And I usually can't be bothered to do things I don't find particularly appealing... like paying Lawrence parking tickets or doing laundry on a semi-regular basis. But, people, I went and updated my insurance policy this morning. It's like I'm responsible or something.

I think this Jetta may very well be my first-born in disguise.

3,742... uh oh

2007-11-26T11:47:00.000-08:00

So I heard on the radio a few weeks ago that eating a measly 1.7 ounces of processed meat per day raises your risk for developing cancer by 21 percent. Uh... can we say "doomed"? Case in point: I've eaten what I didn't realize until now was a processed turkey sandwich every day for lunch for the last, oh... carry the two... 15 years. That sounds like quite the habit to me. So if I develop a brain tumor tomorrow, please know that it was the Healthy Choice oven roasted turkey breast that did me in. And let's see, I just had KU Homecoming, a camping extravaganza, and four days at home over Thanksgiving... that's like a processed meat FESTIVAL! Let's just hope that the 3,742 ouces of processed meat I ate over the span of those events won't be the straws that broke the ol' camel's back.

Oh, and P.S. - I'm choosing not to acknowledge Saturday's football game. Help me out by pretending, also, that it never happened. And focus singlemindedly on KU basketball. I mean, you know this is our year, right? Right? I mean, just because I said that last year doesn't really mean anything, ya know? Right?

Gobble gobble

2007-11-22T09:16:00.000-08:00

Happy Turkey Day! For the first time, I'm officially in charge of making the gravy and I'm a little, well, anxious. What if it's too greasy? Not greasy enough? Too thin? Too thick? It's only that my family's entire Thanksgiving meal hinges on the quality of the gravy... you could say I'm under an amount of pressure that would crush the earth with is massive weight, but that would be understating things.

Anyway, wish me gravy that is just thick enough, just seasoned enough, and just greasy enough. I mean, luck. Wish me luck.

Happy Thanksgiving!

UPDATE: Let's just put it this way: Not only did I eat the gravy with my turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and roll, I also ate it with just my fork for company. Mmmmmm.

You decide for me

2007-11-20T11:52:00.000-08:00

So, camping isn't quite my thing. But I went last weekend anyway because, let's face it - it was go then, when the low temperature was 32 degrees, or go in December, when the low temperature would be, oh, freeze your ass off. And to be quite honest, I didn't hate the experience like I suspected I might. I tolerated it like a champ.

There were the good things: a warm fire (which I didn't realize would beg to be paid attention to like a three-year-old. I swear, if the boyfriend didn't tend to it as diligently as he did, it would have stuffed a marble up its nose right before pouring milk all over the floor); an even warmer sleeping bag; and beer that never got warm.

But there were also the "eh" things: Bathroom facilities that smelled like sulphur and decaying bodies (I know, I know, I should have just gone in the woods - but, people, then the pee that splashed back up on my jeans would have frozen. You'll have to trust me when I say I'm not crafty enough to pop a squat without splashing); near-constant shivering; hot dogs that tasted a little too much like metal; and using sticks (actual STICKS!) as cooking utensils.

But, BUT! There wasn't a single mosquito, fly, bee, or wasp in sight.

"Well, it's either cold or bugs," the boyfriend said.

I'll take... hold on, lemme toss a coin... heads is "bugs"... actually, no I want the other one... wait, I changed my mind...

This might take a while.

100 things

2007-11-19T09:15:00.000-08:00

I figured, what with it being NaBloPoMo and all, that now was as good a time as any to start the blog I've been assembling for the past month. So to satisfy what I'm sure is your rabid curiosity about my ridiculously normal life, to start us off is the requisite "100 things" meme. Actual posts to follow, I promise.

1. I'm a TV junkie with no shame - I'll watch anything from The Nanny reruns to weepy Lifetime TV movies (and orignial shows). But I also watch the good stuff - How I Met Your Mother, Pushing Daisies, Project Runway, Grey's Anatomy. I love it all!
2. Exercise is the bane of my existence - I'm gonna start tomorrow, okay? Geez.
3. I'm not a natural blonde (gasp!) and haven't been since I was, oh, five? Or something.
4. I've permed (don't ask), then bleached, and then dyed my hair within a very short amount of time. Which is why my hair is now the texture of hay and seems to be revolting more by the minute. All told, I've been altering the natural state of my hair every six weeks since I was 14.
5. I cannot stand a dirty kitchen, which includes rebellious crumbs on the counter, food left on plates in the dishwasher (that machine is not a miracle-worker, people, I don't care WHAT kind of detergent you use), mysterious stains on the floor, and sticky refrigerator shelves. I do, however, somehow manage to keep leftovers for about a century before they get tossed out. I am a mystery wrapped in an enigma.
6. I'm a giant klutz but can walk extremely well in heels. Better, actually, than in flat shoes. Which just make my non-existent arches ache.
7. My best physical feature is my eyelashes (and I pretty much can't be dragged out of the house, unless I'm screaming in vain, without mascara on them).
8. I have a younger brother who is a junior at, thank the baby hay-zeus, the University of Kansas.
9. If you insult KU in front of me, there is a distinct possibility that I'll either rip your eyes out, pout and chug a beer, or never talk to you again. Or all of the aforementioned, in that order.
10. I'm a staunch dog person - I find cats to be fickle, melodramatic, conditional, and subversive. And they make my eyes itch.
11. My dog Bailey (who lives with my parents) will turn 11 this December. She still acts like a puppy, though. An arthritic one.
12. I'm a denim fanatic - I own, um, LOTS of jeans and they're divided into categories (everyday, work, nice, etc.). I should probably also admit that they're all designer.
13. I'm a Pisces born in the Chinese year of the rat. This doesn't mean all that much to me, except that rats are worse than cockroaches and cockroaches, friends, are BAD.
14. I looooooove anything to do with ghosts, Halloween, paranormal activity, and the like. Remember those bad TV shows I mentioned up in number one? Ghost Hunters rocks.
15. I sometimes distract myself at work. Like right now.
16. My current job placement was a stroke of semi-luck.
17. My favorite foods are guacamole, turkey sandwiches, pizza, cheese (all of it except cottage... eeeeeeew), eggs, and the tilapia and fried calamari at Bonefish. Actually, I could go on for much longer than this list... I don't have a sophisticated palate, but I LOVE food.
18. I wasn't a serious beer drinker until my junior year in college. Before that, it was rum and Coke, Smirnoff Ice, and vodka cranberries. Surprising, actually, since I don't really have much of a sweet tooth.
19. I have a salty tooth - pretzels, chips, crackers, the Dead Sea - if it's sodium-laden, you can pretty much bet your life savings that I'll like it.
20. I only have two cousins.
21. My uncle is a pilot - something I'll always admire and brag about.
22. My ethnicity is about 80 percent English, 10 percent Irish, and the rest is a hodge-podge of Welsh and Belgian. Which makes me the only person out of my friends who actually needs to use sunscreen.
23. I've been carrying the same Coach purse to work every day for the last 15 months (it contains my entire life, after all). This has got to be some sort of record.
24. I live in Missouri and have for more than a year, but I still have a Kansas driver's license, Kansas tags, and I'm still registered to vote only in Kansas.
25. My favorite alcoholic drink is a cold Boulevard Wheat, in a glass, with a lemon wedge. I'm starting to learn, in my old age, that beer should be supplemented with water and not mainlined into one's system.
26. I hate tequila, gin, whiskey, and bourbon. And that "three kings" shot? Would probably make me vom all over you.
27. I'm a moderate Democrat but a registered Republican. This will change when I register to vote in Missouri for next year's presidential election.
28. I've had three cars and am about to lease my fourth.
29. I don't want to buy a car, despite the whole "not throwing my money away" thing because I get really itchy for a new one by the time the lease is up. I guess you could say I'm "fickle" but we all know how I feel about cats.
30. I don't get involved in office politics and/or cliques. I'm nice to everyone but I have my own friends, thank you.
31. I graduated college in four years, as did most of my friends.
32. My roommate is a nurse.
33. I didn't have a roommate last year. And I liked it.
34. I have a constantly-changing collage of bruises on my body. No, I'm not anemic. Yes, I do run into a lot of things. Like walls. Pretty much anything with mass and form.
35. I once won a chipping contest in a golf class I was taking with a friend. I was very impressed with myself that I even beat out the boys.
36. My favorite color is cerulean.
37. Last year, I discovered that I have something of a talent for interior decorating. It's just fun, like picking out clothes for your house.
38. I miss college. A lot.
39. I put a high price on my independence but appreciate chivalrous men. Why, yes, I can open that door for myself but feel free to do it for me!
40. I was a journalism major at KU. This gives my MU-grad boyfriend much fodder for teasing that I pretend not to notice.
41. Despite the fact that I keep my bedroom clean, even going so far as to dust fairly often, my laundry piles up in the hamper in my closet and the hand towels in my bathroom don't get washed nearly as frequently as they should.
42. Overall, I'm not a big jewelry person but I do wear earrings every day. I feel naked without them.
43. I eat lunch every weekday at 11:45 a.m. but I usually extend my hour-long lunch break until 1 p.m. Come on, I deserve it.
44. I'm an AVID reader. If I'm ever without a book, I feel lost. In which case, I ready trashy magazines.
45. I've read way too much and love too many to ever choose my favorite book.
46. I can, however, list my favorite authors - Christopher Moore, Agatha Christie, Jon Krakauer, and Carl Hiaasen. And Janet Evanovich - her Stephanie Plum series is seriously addictive.
47. If you can't tell from the last two, I'm kind of a words geek (hence the journalism major, which was a little more practical than English).
48. I can't STAND improper punctuation - an apostrophe 's' never makes a noun plural, you ignorant advertising copywriters!
49. I've named the Geico gecko "Bob." And I've asked for him for Christmas.
50. Speaking of Christmas, my wish list is usually in the first stages, if not complete, by Halloween.
51. I love each season for its own reasons and couldn't live in a place that's warm and sunny year-round.
52. Though I lived in California for a little more than a year when I was young. Any my best childhood memories involve my grandpa's former house in Palm Springs.
53. I'm on a constant quest for the perfect nail polish.
54. I would love to have kids of my own someday but childbirth absolutely horrifies me. This isn't exactly unique, but there you have it.
55. If you have a weak stomach, don't read this one. I contracted an intestinal, uh, thing from my, ahem, dog a few years ago. It lasted three agonizing weeks and my body has never been the same. I mean, I used to have guts of STEEL.
56. I don't like most healthy food, especially fruits and vegetables. The taste, texture, and density are just all wrong. It's all about processing, people. Unfortunately.
57. The exceptions to my healthy food aversion are strawberries, cantaloupe, broccoli (I know!), avocados, grapes, salad, corn on the cob, and some grilled vegetables. Also, I've learned to like fruit smoothies (mainly because I pretend it's not fruit in there).
58. My family does like healthy food. I am a freak.
59. I was blessed with my mom's (and grandpa's) "thin gene." Which is why I can eat crap and not work out while remaining a size 2. Please don't hate me too much.
60. I used to smoke Marlboro Lights, thanks to my weak immunity to peer pressure. Very occasionally, I still crave one but never indulge the craving. And that's thanks to my boyfriend, my roommate, and my med-student friend. Thanks, guys!
61. I'm kind of obsessed with the smell of sunscreen. Actually, to be more specific, coconut. I even have coconut oil that I wear in lieu of perfume in the summer.
62. I'm a mediocre cook but rarely get out the pots and pans. It makes a mess and takes way too long. Which is why my freezer is filled with Pizza Rolls and Lean Pockets.
63. I've eaten a turkey sandwich practically every day for at least the past 10 years. Still not sick of it.
64. I take pride in my appearance not just because it affects how others see me, but also because I physically feel better when I've made an effort.
65. For some reason, I don't wear dresses very well, which is why I own only three. I'm a girly-girl, but in a cute jeans kinda way.
66. I'm a subdued hypochondriac, meaning I spend hours convincing myself I have a brain tumor but don't rush to the doctor for tests. Or even voice my fears during annual visits. I mean, what if the doctor told me something was wrong? Very male of me, I know.
67. No matter where I am, except maybe in the car, I have a glass of water near me.
68. Gatorade, though, cures all my ills. Especially those caused by the lethal mixture of Boulevard and hard liquor.
69. I don't like taking pain medication - unless the situation is dire.
70. I follow football but watch college basketball.
71. British comedy puts me in stitches.
72. I read British chick lit and Harry Potter books with a British accent. No one understands how or why I do this. Actually, neither do I.
73. I'm very patient, except when it comes to traffic and waiting to receive presents.
74. I'm an, ahem, iffy driver. I'm pretty sure there are three speeding tickets and two accidents on my record right now. And that's just the current list. Thanks, Progressive, for having the stones to insure me.
75. Interestingly enough, I aced my driving test. But then, I'm a natural test-taker.
76. I took the ACT twice. I scored one point lower the second time.
77. My initials are KDS and my boyfriend's are SKD.
78. If you're drinking with me, odds are that within the first ten minutes these words will pop out of my mouth: "Who wants to play a drinking game?" Odds also are that there won't be cards around and we'll resort to playing "I Never" for the ten thousandth time.
79. I like everything about traveling, even the crappy stuff.
80. The best place I've ever been is Kauai, Hawaii. New York City is a close second.
81. I am absolutely petrified of bears. I have nightmares about them at least monthly. Did you see the episode of America's Next Top Model a few seasons ago when the girls had to put marshmallows in their mouths and feed them to a bear? I had to leave the room.
82. I plan on having a chocolate lab named Snickers sometime in the future.
83. I look at lights to not sneeze.
84. The pictures in all the frames I own have extremely outdated photos in them. I tell myself that I'm going to sit down and switch them out really soon. But I also tell myself I'm going to start exercising and instead just watch "The Hills."
85. I have a pretty disgusting habit of picking the skin around my thumbs until they bleed. It comes out in full force when I'm nervous and absentmindedly when I'm just bored.
86. When I was about 12, my best friend and I planned a "Sleepout Under the Stars," to which we invited our younger siblings and all the kids we baby-sat. We tormented them with really bad ghost stories and microwaved s'mores. Awesome.
87. I've been told I look like at least a dozen different celebrities, only a few of which offended me. ("But Uma Thurman looks like an ostrich!")
88. In college, I went on a date with a guy who forgot his wallet. About 30 seconds after he realized this, my roommate called me and said she'd found a wallet under the seat she was sitting in to take a final. It was his. She'd never even met the guy, just knew his first name and figured it might be him. We sat there in awe for at least five minutes.
89. I get pretty star-struck, but I try my damndest not to show it.
90. I can cook up some pretty realistic fantasies, meaning they're all reality-based. And I have a really good wardrobe in all of them.
91. I once hiked around what seemed like a giant lake (we later found out the path we took was 12 miles) the day after a violent bout of food poisoning. I'm tough.
92. I work in health care but not as a clinician. I go through periods where I want to be, but then I see blood or smell a patient room and I immediately change my mind. My roommate's stories also quell the urge.
93. In my job, the media is my best friend and worst enemy.
94. I make important decisions very quickly. Otherwise known as, "I know what I want."
95. When I was in NYC with my mom, we took a Sex and the City bus tour and deemed it the highlight of our trip. We agreed we'll take it again when we go back. Hello, Magnolia cupcakes!
96. I'm a clock-watcher. I wish my life didn't revolve around time, but it does.
97. I buy Kleenex boxes to match my bathroom. I probably shouldn't decorate with cardboard facial tissue holders, but ya know. We all need a little more color in our lives, right?
98. I still get excited about the holidays. All of them.
99. Some things that annoy me: ice chewing, gum popping, and loud chip crunching. Oops, I think I do all of those.
100. I'm done writing this list. Woo hoo!