Me: Natalie is a proud mommy! She gave birth to Andrew on April 6th.
6lbs 4oz. Full head of brown hair with blond highlights!
Tawni: I CANT BELIEVE IT! FIRST NATALIE...THEN JENN...YOU AND I, WE
HAVE EACH OTHER
Me: Shall we adopt?
Tawni: LETS :) WHICH COUNTRY DO YOU PREFER?
Me: This is so fun! How about England. I love British accents!
Tawni: AMEN!
Me: I'll pick up the shower invites
Tawni: Yes...I'll order the stripper...oh wait...wrong
shower...Aw...who the hell cares :)
Me: In that case, can we have the shower next Friday night?
Tawni: Seriously :)
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Held Back in Kindergarten
I have been training for a marathon. I tore my left arch and have now downgraded to a half-marathon.
Today was my second visit with my podiatrist...a young, witty, cute, single podiatrist.
I arrive at his office and he opens the door. My eyes widen, "Wow, he is much cuter than I remembered!" He has me come into the room while he finishes his last patient's report. We chat and catch up on each other's weekend. I tease him that he really is exchanging on IM and not working on his last patient's record. We exchange more banter, in an effort to pry into each other's lives. I tell him about a party that I went to last week at The Box. He tells me about the screening he is attending tonight at the Soho House. He inches closer to me on his wheelie chair and reaches out with his latex-laden hands.
"Alright, lets take a look at your feet. Oh, can you get my ex-girlfriend a job?"
I laugh, "You want ME to get your ex-girlfriend a job? Why are you still trying to employ your ex?"
He laughs with my feet in hand and tells me they are good friends. She is in fashion. He asks for my contact info to help her out. I offer him my business card in hopes of an indirect approach to a date.
I tell him my foot is still in pain, despite the stretches and icing he instructed me to do two weeks ago. He takes a look, applies pressure, and approaches a cabinet. He opens it and out comes the most RIDICULOUS contraption...a MOON BOOT!.
I immediately digress to MO-THE-FIVE-YEAR-OLD.
"WHAT IS THAT? I AM NOT GOING TO WEAR THAT! THAT THING IS UGLY!" I tantrum.
"It is a night splint. Ideally, you should wear it while you sleep."
I roll my eyes and shake my head "no."
"I am only requiring that you wear it two hours a night while you are watching TV or are on the computer."
"OH, NO I AM NOT WEARING THAT! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!" I exert while stomping my fists into the chair.
I immediately think, "I don't have room for that! Where am I going to fit it in my tiny apartment?"
He straps me into the ugly, wannabe, snowboard boot as I sit there shaking my head, as if my whole world has fallen apart.
"Fine!" He takes off the boot, grabs a Sharpie, and draws my employer's fashion label on the back. "Now will you wear it?"
"NO! THIS IS RETARDED!"
He tells me to consider physical therapy.
Tantrum Part Two...
WHAT? PHYSICAL THERAPY?"
"Yes, I don't know if you will want to fit that in."
"PHYSICAL THERAPY? WHAT DOES IT CONSIST OF?" I fume.
He mocks, "It CONSISTS of my girls working on you!"
I thrust my hands in the air, "BASTA! THIS IS SO RETARDED!"
He looks at me with all amusement. Little did he know that he would be a pediatrician today.
I shake my head and pout, looking down at my foot bound in a 45 degree angle by velcro straps, pulling away all my vanity.
"I don't think you need it, but would you like me to ease the pain with a steroid shot?"
Tantrum Part Three...
"NO! I DON'T NEED A SHOT!" I exclaim, exhausted from the drain of my narcissism.
At six months old, I would scream if I saw anyone dressed in all white. Needless to say, I feared needles when I was young. I once bent the needle with my ass from being so tense, and then found pure pleasure in pissing off the nurse by my muscular feat. I told her I didn't want it.
After that incident, I decided I will survive on charm alone. Oh, did I turn it on. It was pure success. I charmed my way out of every shot. "Oh doctor, must you do that? Surely, there must be some medicine you can give me that would do the same thing," Bat the eyelashes. It worked every time.
Obviously, I didn't apply that method today. I charmed, then fitted. Dyslexic.
I pay my copay. He walks out to say goodbye, "It was really good seeing you today. See you at Soho House tonight." Wink.
Yeah, right. I've got a foot to bind for my concubine walk on the moon. My nickname at work is now Heather Mills.
Thanks, doc.
Today was my second visit with my podiatrist...a young, witty, cute, single podiatrist.
I arrive at his office and he opens the door. My eyes widen, "Wow, he is much cuter than I remembered!" He has me come into the room while he finishes his last patient's report. We chat and catch up on each other's weekend. I tease him that he really is exchanging on IM and not working on his last patient's record. We exchange more banter, in an effort to pry into each other's lives. I tell him about a party that I went to last week at The Box. He tells me about the screening he is attending tonight at the Soho House. He inches closer to me on his wheelie chair and reaches out with his latex-laden hands.
"Alright, lets take a look at your feet. Oh, can you get my ex-girlfriend a job?"
I laugh, "You want ME to get your ex-girlfriend a job? Why are you still trying to employ your ex?"
He laughs with my feet in hand and tells me they are good friends. She is in fashion. He asks for my contact info to help her out. I offer him my business card in hopes of an indirect approach to a date.
I tell him my foot is still in pain, despite the stretches and icing he instructed me to do two weeks ago. He takes a look, applies pressure, and approaches a cabinet. He opens it and out comes the most RIDICULOUS contraption...a MOON BOOT!.
I immediately digress to MO-THE-FIVE-YEAR-OLD.
"WHAT IS THAT? I AM NOT GOING TO WEAR THAT! THAT THING IS UGLY!" I tantrum.
"It is a night splint. Ideally, you should wear it while you sleep."
I roll my eyes and shake my head "no."
"I am only requiring that you wear it two hours a night while you are watching TV or are on the computer."
"OH, NO I AM NOT WEARING THAT! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!" I exert while stomping my fists into the chair.
I immediately think, "I don't have room for that! Where am I going to fit it in my tiny apartment?"
He straps me into the ugly, wannabe, snowboard boot as I sit there shaking my head, as if my whole world has fallen apart.
"Fine!" He takes off the boot, grabs a Sharpie, and draws my employer's fashion label on the back. "Now will you wear it?"
"NO! THIS IS RETARDED!"
He tells me to consider physical therapy.
Tantrum Part Two...
WHAT? PHYSICAL THERAPY?"
"Yes, I don't know if you will want to fit that in."
"PHYSICAL THERAPY? WHAT DOES IT CONSIST OF?" I fume.
He mocks, "It CONSISTS of my girls working on you!"
I thrust my hands in the air, "BASTA! THIS IS SO RETARDED!"
He looks at me with all amusement. Little did he know that he would be a pediatrician today.
I shake my head and pout, looking down at my foot bound in a 45 degree angle by velcro straps, pulling away all my vanity.
"I don't think you need it, but would you like me to ease the pain with a steroid shot?"
Tantrum Part Three...
"NO! I DON'T NEED A SHOT!" I exclaim, exhausted from the drain of my narcissism.
At six months old, I would scream if I saw anyone dressed in all white. Needless to say, I feared needles when I was young. I once bent the needle with my ass from being so tense, and then found pure pleasure in pissing off the nurse by my muscular feat. I told her I didn't want it.
After that incident, I decided I will survive on charm alone. Oh, did I turn it on. It was pure success. I charmed my way out of every shot. "Oh doctor, must you do that? Surely, there must be some medicine you can give me that would do the same thing," Bat the eyelashes. It worked every time.
Obviously, I didn't apply that method today. I charmed, then fitted. Dyslexic.
I pay my copay. He walks out to say goodbye, "It was really good seeing you today. See you at Soho House tonight." Wink.
Yeah, right. I've got a foot to bind for my concubine walk on the moon. My nickname at work is now Heather Mills.
Thanks, doc.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Thank you Bobbi Brown!
Saturday night: A time warp text conversation. A relationship that missed its fruition. Tears. Uncountable vodka sodas.
Sunday morning: Press the snooze button. I make the decision this morning to not put on makeup to buy me more doze time. I reluctantly slither out of bed like a sloth.
First stop: refrigerator. Cold water.
Second stop: bathroom. Mirror...uh, oh.
Gotta throw out the sans makeup idea. There could be a chance I meet a boy today.
As I camouflage my love-forsaken, vampire face, I realize eyeliner does not prefer puffy lids.
On the train to meet my cousin, concentrating on my lack of sleep, I see two boys run into my car. One is your chill, surfer type and the other is simply, beautiful.
Double take. I close my eyes, too drained to attract the eye contact.
I open my eyes a few seconds later. They are coming my way. They sit right in front of me. I turn coy. The chill surfer type reaches into a plastic bag, pulls out a Quaker s'mores granola bar and postcard, and hands it to me. Score. My window for eye contact just opened! I graciously thank him and smile at him and Beautiful. I look down at the card and read it is an invite to Journeys church for Easter. Journeys has stuffed my mailbox with endless invitations to rejoice in their "alternative" Christian celebrations. Needless to say, I have rudely declined the mass mailer without an r.s.v.p...Never found alternative Christianity sexy enough to warrant my presence.
Boy, did they hire the right focus group to shift their marketing approach to arouse my attention!
So, Beautiful, after the awkward silence following the s'mores exchange, says to me, "Those are great shoes." Score. My window to finally charm with conversation just opened! Giggles and sharing of New York bios ensue. I know that my stop is coming up very soon, leaving no time for the choreography of storing a number into the Razor. I hand Beautiful my business card. He looks at me and says he would like to see me at the Journeys Easter alterna-bration. My stop. "So nice to meet you. Please come on Sunday, I would really love to see you there".
I point at my card in his hand, "Email me". Smile and wink.
Blasphemy! What would the retired Sisters that reared my Catholic education think of me going to another place of worship, solely to entertain visions of being manhandled?
I've entered a whole new realm in dating.
Sorry, Father, for I have sinned.
Sunday morning: Press the snooze button. I make the decision this morning to not put on makeup to buy me more doze time. I reluctantly slither out of bed like a sloth.
First stop: refrigerator. Cold water.
Second stop: bathroom. Mirror...uh, oh.
Gotta throw out the sans makeup idea. There could be a chance I meet a boy today.
As I camouflage my love-forsaken, vampire face, I realize eyeliner does not prefer puffy lids.
On the train to meet my cousin, concentrating on my lack of sleep, I see two boys run into my car. One is your chill, surfer type and the other is simply, beautiful.
Double take. I close my eyes, too drained to attract the eye contact.
I open my eyes a few seconds later. They are coming my way. They sit right in front of me. I turn coy. The chill surfer type reaches into a plastic bag, pulls out a Quaker s'mores granola bar and postcard, and hands it to me. Score. My window for eye contact just opened! I graciously thank him and smile at him and Beautiful. I look down at the card and read it is an invite to Journeys church for Easter. Journeys has stuffed my mailbox with endless invitations to rejoice in their "alternative" Christian celebrations. Needless to say, I have rudely declined the mass mailer without an r.s.v.p...Never found alternative Christianity sexy enough to warrant my presence.
Boy, did they hire the right focus group to shift their marketing approach to arouse my attention!
So, Beautiful, after the awkward silence following the s'mores exchange, says to me, "Those are great shoes." Score. My window to finally charm with conversation just opened! Giggles and sharing of New York bios ensue. I know that my stop is coming up very soon, leaving no time for the choreography of storing a number into the Razor. I hand Beautiful my business card. He looks at me and says he would like to see me at the Journeys Easter alterna-bration. My stop. "So nice to meet you. Please come on Sunday, I would really love to see you there".
I point at my card in his hand, "Email me". Smile and wink.
Blasphemy! What would the retired Sisters that reared my Catholic education think of me going to another place of worship, solely to entertain visions of being manhandled?
I've entered a whole new realm in dating.
Sorry, Father, for I have sinned.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Forever hold your peace
Caught off guard. Friday morning I wake up to two texts: one from my niece and one from my 20 year crush. I think, "Surely, he texted the wrong person, because he NEVER texts me." I was wrong, because he texted me for the next 36 hours, while on his bachelor weekend...begging me to come and more.
Apart from feeling stuck in some sort of Zach Braff movie, I couldn't deny my elation that he was thinking of me during this male bonding-through-debauchery weekend. At first, I thought it was just a drunk texting fluke and that he would pass out to wake up embarrassed for his faux pas. As it approached 3 o'clock, my phone filled with his texts...that idea soon lost its weight.
So, the rest of the day I tried to attach meaning to all of this:
He is getting cold feet.
He is definitely not ready to get married.
Am I just a "go-to" girl?
Am I only convenient to talk to because there is no commitment to be made?
What are his feelings for me?
Is he just an unfaithful person in general or does he let down his guard only for me?
Does he hold me in the same place as I do him?
Does he know what he wants in life?
Is he just pleasing his parents?
What are his friends thinking when he is texting all day?
Do they know who he is texting?
If so, are they attempting an intervention?
Why can't we ever be in the same place at the same time?
Needless to say, my head was filled with questions, no answers, and ridiculous visions of being swept away.
Why is it that it is always the man that shows up during the wedding ceremony, to declare his love for the bride and pull her willingly away from her confused groom, in movies and cheesy Journey/Jon Secada videos? Just a thought.
Don't worry, I will not show up at the ceremony. I do not want to know where or when...I'll just keep on pretending that this is just all
a farce.
Apart from feeling stuck in some sort of Zach Braff movie, I couldn't deny my elation that he was thinking of me during this male bonding-through-debauchery weekend. At first, I thought it was just a drunk texting fluke and that he would pass out to wake up embarrassed for his faux pas. As it approached 3 o'clock, my phone filled with his texts...that idea soon lost its weight.
So, the rest of the day I tried to attach meaning to all of this:
He is getting cold feet.
He is definitely not ready to get married.
Am I just a "go-to" girl?
Am I only convenient to talk to because there is no commitment to be made?
What are his feelings for me?
Is he just an unfaithful person in general or does he let down his guard only for me?
Does he hold me in the same place as I do him?
Does he know what he wants in life?
Is he just pleasing his parents?
What are his friends thinking when he is texting all day?
Do they know who he is texting?
If so, are they attempting an intervention?
Why can't we ever be in the same place at the same time?
Needless to say, my head was filled with questions, no answers, and ridiculous visions of being swept away.
Why is it that it is always the man that shows up during the wedding ceremony, to declare his love for the bride and pull her willingly away from her confused groom, in movies and cheesy Journey/Jon Secada videos? Just a thought.
Don't worry, I will not show up at the ceremony. I do not want to know where or when...I'll just keep on pretending that this is just all
a farce.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Free Birth Control
I walked into Babies 'R' Us for the first time in my life to buy the first shower gift in my life...and here too, THE FIRST TIME ALWAYS HURTS.
Squinting from the pain of the sensory overload, I was able to make out:
*Playpens set up like Rolling Stones tour buses
*Seats looking like dentist chairs
*BORED fathers
*BORED children
*Determined mothers with a twinkle of former bridezilla in their eyes
*Japanese rice cookers moonlighting as bottle warmers
*Sad baby clothes needing a prozac prescription to make them cheery
*Bibs and onesies reading, "My First St. Patty's Day!" complete with dumb, green leprechaun hat to top the poor, defenseless being's head who is celebrating the inebriated ADULT holiday
My declaration to my future offspring: I will never dress you up like a creepy old Irish man. You have my word.
And with that I can also declare, thanks to Babies 'R' Us, I will not be dressing any offspring anytime soon. And this is coming from a girl that has been stating her desire to be "barefoot and pregnant"...
Thanks for the FREE birth control Babies 'R' Us!
So, question: Will I get vericose veins now from keeping my legs crossed?
Squinting from the pain of the sensory overload, I was able to make out:
*Playpens set up like Rolling Stones tour buses
*Seats looking like dentist chairs
*BORED fathers
*BORED children
*Determined mothers with a twinkle of former bridezilla in their eyes
*Japanese rice cookers moonlighting as bottle warmers
*Sad baby clothes needing a prozac prescription to make them cheery
*Bibs and onesies reading, "My First St. Patty's Day!" complete with dumb, green leprechaun hat to top the poor, defenseless being's head who is celebrating the inebriated ADULT holiday
My declaration to my future offspring: I will never dress you up like a creepy old Irish man. You have my word.
And with that I can also declare, thanks to Babies 'R' Us, I will not be dressing any offspring anytime soon. And this is coming from a girl that has been stating her desire to be "barefoot and pregnant"...
Thanks for the FREE birth control Babies 'R' Us!
So, question: Will I get vericose veins now from keeping my legs crossed?
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
My Uncomfortable Declaration
Virtually, like every transplant on this island I came here on pure ambition...a 14 year old ambition, to be exact. I moved from Cali and got everything I ever dreamed of...it happened so quickly, I immediately got settled in this dream, for 5 years to be exact.
I no longer want the comfort that settlement brings...I want more, much more...I WANT TO BE UNCOMFORTABLE IN THE UNKNOWN
That being said, here are my goals for this year:
1) Banish my debt
2) Buy my first piece of real estate
3) Start my own company
4) Fall madly in love
Can a girl desire any more?
Yes
I no longer want the comfort that settlement brings...I want more, much more...I WANT TO BE UNCOMFORTABLE IN THE UNKNOWN
That being said, here are my goals for this year:
1) Banish my debt
2) Buy my first piece of real estate
3) Start my own company
4) Fall madly in love
Can a girl desire any more?
Yes
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
