Monday, November 30, 2009


I know it's supposed to be a joke when people say: "you have friends?" But it's not a good one. It's actually kinda hurtful. Because then you start to wonder, why do you think I have no friends? Do I seem that unlikeable? That no one wants to hang out with me socially? But I'm charming and nice and thoughtful and funny ('eff modesty though). Why wouldn't I have friends? Because I hear that "joke" a lot more often then you'd imagine. Seriously.

Once over the summer I was at a coffee shop with some friends (See! See! I do have them! And that's plural too!) and a classmate of one of us stopped over to say hi. After introductions were made, he cracked the "you have (other) friends?" line to her. And before I could help it, I wailed (to a person I had just met) and very very loud and high pitched: "why do people think we have no friends?"

Because it turns out, I have great friends. Amazing friends. Friends that I consider family and who you keep forever. You're lucky to develop that type of friendship with anyone and I have several of them. (so there! nanny nanny boo boo!) And in cases of friendship, quality over quantity wins every time.

So I don't have 3 different party invites every weekend to rub elbows with people I don't care about. But I will rearrange my work schedule to meet my friend's new baby or see them graduate med school. I can call people at 1 am bawling because my heart is breaking. I will drive 5 hours for fantasy football and see people I only see a few times a year. And the only thing we do that weekend is couch and cook.

So I don't have a 1000 friends. But it's not like I don't have any friends either. So bad jokes aside, I'm happy and thankful for what I have. Because it's worth a hell of a lot more.

Sunday, November 29, 2009


I want to be a mom. I want to be a wife. This is no secret. And I know that comes across as intense and scary and boys will run away screaming. But it's better that they run, saving me the time and leaving less to sift through.

I want a man who wants the same things I want, the way I want them. And I want all of that in a guy without kids.

ook, I've been responsible enough to not have kids by now. And I think since I have been responsible enough, he should have been too. I know accidents happen and ultimately he doesn't have the same kind of say in a pregnancy that the woman does. And there's a sad truth in that he can always walk away, as cowardly as that is. But is it too much to ask for a man who doesn't want kids at the moment to actively take a measure in preventing them?

And I know as I get older, this may be harder and harder to find. And it's not cool that someone as put together(ish) as me has to search for an equal. I'm smart, I'm pretty, I'm fun, I'm charming, and I don't have baggage. Ok that's a little lie. Everyone has baggage. It's just a matter of how you check it. But I'm not in the mood to check his carry on luggage. And kids? Carry on luggage.

Thursday, November 26, 2009


I love to eat. Seriously, for as small as I am, I used to be able to pack it away. I've stopped over eating as much though the past 2 years. But that doesn't mean I don't overindulge on special occasions. Like today, on Thanksgiving. (jeans were a bad choice)

Or the first year I really went to Taste of Cincinnati. I very diabolically sampled a lot of things by one friend getting one thing and I would get another, and we would share. And I avoided the beer until late in the evening becasue I was all about the food. Unlike the roommate who had called me in the first place to join them, he was tanked. And full. But anyway, it was super fun and supper yummy.

The next day a coworker asked if I had a fun time at taste and asked what all did I eat?
I start excitedly ticking off my fingers and rattling off the following list:
  • roasted corn
  • fried chicken
  • escargot
  • ribs
  • apple tartlet
  • potato pancake
  • ice cream
  • Lemon ice
  • fondue
  • lobster ravioli
  • meatballs
  • fried pickles
"Whoa. How did you feel after that?"
"Honestly, a little bloated. But totally worth it. But that's also why I'm not in the mood to eat anything for a week now"

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Eating!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Birth Order

Originally, my parents wanted a boy and a girl. Enter me, so they changed it to girl and a boy. Enter my sister. So then they wanted two.

That's how many I want. Just two. I don't care what they are, and what order they come in. But if God's willing to throw me a bone, I will take one of each, the boy first so he protects his little sister and later on she can date his friends. And they will be Rhodes Scholars. And ridiculously good looking. And sweet and nice and adore their mother. And not need braces. And athletic. Is that pushing it? Maybe just a little?

Anyway, two. And when my ex and I talked about kids, he thought that was a good number. Two is just right. One would be a spoiled brat. Three you have the poor left-out middle kid, they out number you, plus I have an aversion to odd numbers. And 4+ was just too many if he wanted me to remain somewhat sane while rearing them.

But once he was being ornery and dared to challenge the plan. What happens if the girl come first? Or two of the same?
"Well, then we have two. It's not like I'm going to love them any less. I have a girl and boy, great. Two boys, you still have to potty train them both (and for god's sake, teach them to put the seat down!), and two girls means lots of pink! It doesn't matter. I just want to have a family."

"Oh ok." But then he opened his mouth again. And he said he hoped we got two boys if we have two of the same. Because "two girls would be, just, god..." here he actually shuddered, horrified at the thought.

"Hey! We turn out just FINE."
"Oh, right... you have a sister..."
"Yeah. How's that foot taste mister?"

Sunday, November 22, 2009


"open delight or pleasure, exultant joy, exultation." Also it's a show on Fox.

I had been hearing a decent amount about this show, and that the people that were into it were really into it. But I never found out when it was on, and I had other shows to obsess over, like True Blood and Mad Men (and don't judge me, Keeping up the Kardashians).

So when my girlfriends started talking about Glee, I asked them if it was worth getting into.
Michele: it has singing and dancing!
me: singing and dancing!?!? Why DON'T I watch this show?!

Seriously. Why haven't I been watching this show?

Singing? Check. Dancing? Check. Stereotypical high school characters that I can't get enough of? CHECK! Consider me hooked and caught up as of 8 pm this evening.

So in my zest of all things Glee, I've watched the last 5 episodes on Hulu and I've been obsessively googling YouTube clips of the song and dance numbers. The only problem with YouTube is that it's such a dangerous time suck. And I have no will power and fell head first down the internet rabbit hole. So In addition to Glee, I've also watched Kristen Chenoweth (love!) clips not related to the show, Indina Menzel's 2004 Tony acceptance speech (little choked up), Matt Morrison's video diary on Glee (cutie-cutie), and a medley from Hairspray at one of the Tony awards.

I wish life had more singing and/or dance montages. It would make class super fun!

Friday, November 20, 2009

Privacy Please

Some relationships have an open bathroom door policy. This is a solid NO in my book. But there are a few other things that I believe your man should never ever see you do (or know) if you want to keep the romance alive.
  1. First: anything that closes the bathroom door, should remain behind the closed door and unknown. (I have a friend who believes that girls only poop once a year and nothing but rose petals come out. I accept this belief.)
  2. Tweezing your eyebrows (this can be a bathroom thing or vanity area thing)
  3. Putting on pantyhose (or any other support type garment for that matter). Nothing like a nylon chastity belt to put you in the mood.
  4. Putting on or taking off false eyelashes (though my ex's face was hysterical when this occurred. But that's also why this is on the list)
  5. The less than sexy underthings you wear on fat and/or laundry days (yes honey, those lace and corsets things with the wire and clasps are just like a second skin)
  6. The exact number of black heels you own (darling, I only have 4 (that you can see...))
Now I know if I get married and live with another guy, at some point some of these things may get seen. (I shudder at the thought). And number 4 has obviously happened, or else it would not be on the list.
But I'm adamantly sticking to the bathroom door stays shut thing.

Thursday, November 19, 2009


I don't like my exs' new girlfriends. Anyone else? Even though he's an ex, and there's no going back, I still don't like the new ones. Well, not all of them, but the fiance's in particular. It doesn't matter who she is, what she is or when she happened. She may be the gutteriest of the gutter sluts, queen of the groupies or perfect McPerfectison. It doesn't matter how terrible or how awesome she is. Because the only thing I'll ever see her as, is my replacement. And I just hate the idea of her.

Its not that I don't want him to be happy ever again, I just don't want him to be happy before me. I don't know what he would think of my life now, or if he even thinks of me. Obviously, by talking about it, I'm still thinking about it. Not in a did I make the right choice way, but still, just thinking. And while he's not a pressing concern of my life anymore, I still want to be a concern of his. I know that's selfish and unreasonable. Logically I know he's moved on, just like I'm doing. But there's still this stupid little twinge I feel, that I need to know I meant something. And when I'm replaced, she just... smudges me out.

I know everyone has said "s/he'll never do better then me" to sooth their breakup wounds. But don't you wish that was true? Don't you wish you really were the best that a person was ever was going to get and that they know it?

(You're probably wondering where the hell this thought process came from. I dreamed he had a baby and the Norman Rockwell style life I wanted for us with someone else. I woke up miserable. So not the greatest way to start my day)

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Sign me up for Couger

So I just watched 17 Again and while it was predictable, it was delightful none the less. And I'm not ashamed to admit, I think Zac Effron is a cutie. But besides him and his pretty pretty face and that perfect hair that you just want to run your fingers through (ahem. sorry), here are a few boys I'd go cougar for:
Pics brought to you by the interwebs. (do I need to credit the image or something?)

Zac Effron:

age 22. Hi pretty boy

Daniel Radcliffe

age 20. Boy wears a suit better than most men.

This cutie from Fame, Asher Book:

age 21. He can sing and I love him.

And HRH Prince Harry of Wales:

age, 25. Prince. 'Nuff said.
And I don't feel dirty about liking him becasue he's only 2 years younger than me.

Oh, and I'd totally take his brother on the right there too, becasue they're both adorable and do-gooders and over 6 feet tall and have pretty queen's english accents. And they're princes. Only Will's a few weeks older than me, thus putting him out of my cougar range which is not what this blog is about.

Here's to prowling! (rawr)

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Scary Stuff

Disclaimer: woman health blog

I've had more "scares" then I'd like to admit. Even though I'm on the pill, there's still always that chance. And one of the happy side effects of my pills is a lighter flow. Really light, almost no existence light.

So, I've taken a few test in my life to reassure myself. And I was never super worried since I had my normal not-knocked up symptoms (aka: pms). So the test was just an odd sort of insurance policy. I even got a little nonchalant about them when I was engaged.

So nonchalant that I forgot how scary they can be. Because it's one thing to take a pregnancy test when you're engaged. It's another thing to be late having just broken up with the guy.

That's a lot scarier. Because all those times with my ex, even if the result had been positive, at least had him. And my biggest concern was honestly I didn't want to be fat in my wedding gown. When you're standing in a Meijer's bathroom, shaking, watching the seconds go by on your watch, terrified your life is about to change in a bathroom stall in the middle of mother f*cking Ohio... It was the most alone I had ever felt in my life. And when the result was negative, I laughed with relief and glee. But I still felt pretty alone.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Power Hungry

I find power incredibly attractive. I like it, I want it, and I like the people with it if I don't have it.

Now, though I find power itself attractive, that doesn't mean I necessarily find the person with it attractive. Mainly my bosses, though it doesn't hurt anything. Most of my bosses have been women or gay men though. And the strait male bosses were married, seriously immoral bastards, and I wasn't attracted to them. Well ok, not all of them were like that. And I will cop
up (hehe, authority pun intended) to having wanted to hook up with a boss based on looks alone. In a quick-dirty-hot-tryst-in-the-office-and-never-tell-anyone-out-of-shame-sorta way. (Not that it happened. I wasn't single at the time, and oh yeah, you don't shag your boss. Business 101)

But anyway, I'm not a person who has a "problem with authority." For example, my chemistry TA is 3 years younger than me. And yeah, I cringed when I learned that, but meh. But my lab partner, captain obvious, said "hey, she's younger that you. And she's telling you what to do!"

Me: "She's telling all of us what to do. And so what? She's the grad student, not me."

It's not the end of the world to obey the rules. And I understand that power can be abused (like so many other things, like power point and a magic wand (I know, wtf? These thing just pop in my head, I swear)), but fortunately I haven't been on the receiving end or witnessed it first hand. But then, I also don't mind making or enforcing the rules either. And if I had a magic wand and/or super power(s), I'm pretty sure I would abuse it at some point. And by some point, I mean all the freaking time. Oh like you wouldn't either.

Monday, November 9, 2009

Bring It On

Hey remember in the summer how I was thinking about running a half marathon in the fall but I was worried that I couldn't handle training, work, super hard science classes and the possibly a boyfriend? And remember how I eventually decided not to because I knew I couldn't handle all of the above, even though the boyfriend didn't happen and school was way worst than I anticipated? And how classes are vindictively hard and I feel like they're pointing and laughing at me because I'm the dumb girl in class so all I do is comfort eat and the 8 lbs I've put on since summer are not making things any better? ::Breathe:: (Yeah, it's been a rough semester (in other news, I think I'm finally used to saying semesters though.))

So, uh, the point? I didn't run a half in the fall. But, I am going to do one in the spring. So I picked the one in Nashville in late April, because it's somewhat close, I really like that city, and I love country music. While I haven't officially signed up yet, I plan on doing so by the end of this month (mainly because I don't want to go downstairs and get my credit card). But then my mom tells me that Lexington is going to have it's first ever half marathon this spring. It's a month before the Nashville one, and it's in my own back yard (sorta). I don't have to start training until Christmas, so I still have plenty of time to get physically in shape (plus loose those 8 lbs. Course, training starts right after the holidays, so there may be 2-5 in addition at the start of it).

There's no reason for me to not do the one at home. 13.1 miles is still 13.1 miles, it's just a matter or where you sleep the night before. But I really wanted to do the Nashville one this year. Then it occurred to me, could I do both? According to my sister (who I ask all running related questions and conundrums before I decide anything running wise), as long as I keep running between the races, then doing two half marathons within four weeks of each other is absolutely possible. So you know what? BRING IT!

But back to the remembering. Remember how in summer part of me thought run in fall despite all the road blocks? And remember how the other part of me just thought I was crazy for wanting to do just that?

How crazy do you think I am for wanting to do both now?

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Mystery Man

There's a guy in my chemistry class that I've noticed, and I can't decide if I like him or not. I don't know his name, how old he is or even if he's a nice person. I don't know any of that stuff. But I know he runs and he seems smart. And from what I've heard by eavesdropping (oh, like you've never done it), he's a little older than the average college student (how much I don't know) and he has a dry sense of humor. He also sounds like a borderline-know-it-all-jack-ass at times too, but I really can't tell.

He's got a strong jaw and I've noticed his eyes. From my quick scans, I can see he's only a few inches taller than me, so clearly, too short. But he has the swagger of a guy with confidence, the kind of confidence that only comes from age and experience. But as I've just mentioned, he seems like a borderline jack ass. I have a feeling that if I did ever talk to him, I wouldn't like him. Something about him seems off to me, I'm not really sure how to explain it. I don't even feel like I want to be friends with this guy.

And yet, I find myself inexplicably noticing him and looking at the back of his neck every class. And talking about him here.
So what is it that is slightly drawing me to this guy? What is making me want to learn his name? Why does he stand out a bit from the other 140 or so people in my class? Why is he mystery dude? And I'm intrigued by being intrigued.

But honestly, after the final, I will probably never see this nameless, too short might be a jack ass guy again. So this is a moot point really. And now, I don't think I ever want to know his name. That way he can remain nameless might be a jackass guy from my chemistry class. Hmm, long title for a guy I don't want to know about.

Friday, November 6, 2009

How Fairy Tales Have Ruined My Relationships

Quick Pic: Disney Princesses - Feminism? What Feminism?
I blame fairy tales for giving me unrealistic expectations on men.

Where are these single princes in their enchanted castles who need a gentle loving pure hearted woman to break the spell a wicked witch put them under? Dudes, I'd break the spell if I could find you! (could be it be that I am not gentle nor pure hearted?) But how am I supposed to meet a handsome prince nowadays anyway? The security around them is unreal. 'Eff.

While I agree with the link, I still love fairy tales. Beauty and the Beast is my favorite I think. Though I might have a hard time falling in love with a beast myself, since I don't like my men too hairy (except for facial hair, but that's a whole Oedipus/Electra complex thing). And there are a ton of other fairly tales besides the ones Disney Disney-fied. (Apparently there's a whole jewelry line based on the Disney princesses. Sleeping Beauty is the only one I kinda like, but I would prefer my beloved to design my engagement ring for me and not a cartoon character thankyouverymuch). (FYI, I have the fingers for a princess or marquis cut diamond, but I'm also liking the cushion cut as of late. All of those are acceptable with a pavé setting) But most fairy tales have a similar sort of plot: there's a little bit of trouble, shenanigans ensue, but someone comes and saves the day and they all live happily ever after. Though I like the ones that end with the evil do-ers getting some sort of comeuppance better. (I'm a little vindictive)

And while some are more beloved than others, Grimm's brother's Snow White does absolutely nothing for woman's empowerment. Girl is dum. Seriously, the dwarfs shut her in the house, say don't talk to strangers, and Snow White's all "'okay!" And then two minutes later the wicked queen comes by and Snow White's tells the queen "I can't talk to you!" But the queen counteracts with "I have shiny things" and Snow White gets all excited and squeals "okay!" and proceeds to let the queen in. You know, the person trying to kill her. The dwarfs save her dumb ass twice (thus keeping their maid), until the fateful apple that somehow outsmarts them all. The dwarfs go back to being slobs, I mean, mourn, prince charming comes by, sees the pretty dead girl and totally has to make out with her (umm, eww). And somehow this kiss removes the apple and she wakes up bright eyed and bushy tailed, and they go live happily ever after. But I want to know a few more things:
A: why didn't the dwarfs think to remove it first?
B: how come it didn't kill charming when he removed it?
C: if that kiss is what dislodged the apple in the first place, how far is his tongue going down her throat?

Monday, November 2, 2009


I lost most of September and October last year (to crying jags and bitterness). But towards the end of October I had some moments of lucidity, and I wanted to carve a pumpkin. But the grocery store was out of them by the time I figured that out.

So this year, when I saw Kroger had pumpkins the beginning of the month, I dove head first into the bin and pulled out a really pretty round one to carve. And after quite some time I figured out what I wanted to carve into it:
A Unicorn!
(It's a good thing I'm a girl and can get away with carving mythical creatures in a pumpkin and no one question my gender. My grasp on reality, maybe, but that's another story.

But since I had waited so long to carve it, it was starting to some soft spots. Eventually, the whole thing got too soft to stand up and collapsed into itself.
So my unicorn saw an untimely death (jump over that last rainbow you lovely creature), but it was just for fun and I had roasted the seeds already. But my momma bought me another one right before Halloween!

So I debated, carve or cook this one? I decided to cook this time around, becasue I really want to make pumpkin soup here soon. I spent Halloween morning stabbing/chopping an 8 lb pumpkin with a butcher knife, then roasting, peeling and pureeing the thing. So now I have over 100 ozs of fresh pumpkin puree, 80 of which I have already frozen for later use.

I've only used 3 cups of the stuff so far. I made muffins and this was my dinner last night:
The result: yummy, but I think I'll cut back on the sage next time
(here's the
recipe in case you want to know. HEART Food Network).

But that still leaves me with a ton of puree. Next up is cookies, bread and soup. No, I won't make pie. For several reasons: pie in general is very hard to make. The only way I "make" pie is to pop a frozen one in the oven. And also, I don't like pumpkin pie to begin with.

So I put a status update on facebook about my vat of puree, (and to boast about my cooking skills) and what should I make with it. I've gotten a few suggestions, but some people are offering to take some off my hands. So I may start a back alley business of dealing some orange pulp here soon.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

When Help Isn't Help

I got on the elevator at work with a few people and one of the guys in there ask me:
"How'd you do on that test?"
me: "I failed." (in a sickeningly sweet voice)
Dude: Now, you sound a little too happy about that! What do you mea
Me interrupting: "OK, the reason I sound that chipper is becasue if I'm not chipper I will start to cry and break down and I don't want to do that this instant. And I really really really don't want to talk about it so please just STOP. Just stop!"

Having successfully made the elevator uncomfortable, the doors open and I get off first. I set my quivering lip and manage a watery smile in 20 feet. In 10 minutes when I'm back in my department, my hands have steadied and I continue on as if I'm fine.

This is the same guy that whenever see's me studying, interrupts to complement me on studying. That doesn't help. At all. When I'm truthful and say I'm not doing well hence why I'm studying, I get to hear his life story. And I don't care that you dropped out of school 3 times and then went on to get a thousand different degrees in your 40's. I know in his own way he is trying to make me feel better. But I don't want to hear your success story. Because I want my own success story, and not having one just makes me want to cry.