She bangs, she bangs

Soooo Im thinking of getting bangs. Not short hipster bangs. More like long, sexy, across my eyes bangs. Thoughts? I have pretty much had the same haircut for my entire life, minus a few permed years and a brief flirtation with short, hilary clintonesque (my brother's description, not mine) hair. I need something new. But I think long hair is the most flattering look for me. But maybe bangs would suit me. This kind of commitment is more than I can handle or decide on my own. I remember how long it took to grow hilary out and I just can't go through that again. It still hurts.

Thick in the waist and pretty in the face.

I was once told by a client at one of the clinics I work for, " Ooohhh girl, yous thick." This was said while he was licking his lips and looking at me lecherously. It was hot really. After I confirmed with a coworker that thick was a good thing, I felt ok. Maybe having a fat ass and a round middle has its advantages. However this past weekend I went dress shopping. After the fact of three weddings in one summer hit me, I realized I needed at least one new outfit. I found a super girlie dress ( the first one you see after clicking the link. The black off the shoulder one) that I really enjoyed wearing. I bought it, brought it home and proceeded to wear it the rest of the evening. I pretty much wear it everytime I am home. Im trying to see if it actually looks good on me, or if Im just wishing it did. The thing is, I look really thick in it. I don't really feel that I look thick in the good way either. I feel chodie. Short and squat. However, it does make my curves look all the more curvy, so maybe that's a good thing. Anyway, there is no real point to this blog except to point out that I am thick, be that good or bad. And I'll probably still wear the dress because even thick girls need to wear fun dresses.

Oh Suzy Q!

So I brought left over salad from the cheese cake factory to work today for lunch. It was so so the first time around and then just plain groos on day two. The wontons were soggy and the crispy noodles not crispy. I ate some of it and figured I could wait until I got home to eat something substantial (ie ramen noodles). However, my lack of will power won (what a suprise) and I went to my car, grabbed change and proceeded to the vending machine. Now, there is only 1 thing I eat out of that vending machine. It's not the trail mix and it's not the granola bar. It happens to be the hostess treats that so divinely grace one of the slots. To my dismay, there were 3 people in the vending room. How can I buy the most disgustingly unhealthy item with three witnesses? So I linger, pretending to decide what I want. There is one gentleman in overalls who lingers longer than the rest. Finally I tell myself I'm being an idiot and put the coins in the slot. The last guy leaves before I have to press in 77. The Suzy Q's fall. I snatch them up quickly and proceed to casually shove them in the front pocket of my sweatshirt, trying not to draw attention to myself. This is after all, the easiest, most natural place to carry them? What else is a pocket for? As I leave the vending room, overall man starts singing " Ohh Suzy Q, baby I love you, Suzy Q." I glared, he snickered. Who does that anyway? Crazy man, that's who. Despite his heckling, I have already enjoyed half of my Suzy Q (the other half now being on my mouse).

Crack for your ears

So for those of you who are Amelie soundtrack lovers, you need to listen to, and then promptly buy, Yann Tierson and Shannon Wright. That is both the name of the album and the name of the people responsible for it. Yann is the guy who did the soundtrack for amelie, and shannon, well, I don't know her, but she appears to have a great voice.It's addictive. Also, if anyone is dying to get me a present, this would be perfect.

ch-ch-changes

So, Im changing the formatting of my blog. It seems people prefer to have access to all my blogs at once (and really, who could blame them). So, hopefully when I'm done, you will be able to read each months blogs on one page. I'm also going to shoot for quantity over quality. More blogs, less content. I tend to get too wordy. Feel free to let me know what you think of all this chaos.

I am judgemental

This past weekend a group of friends and I went bowling at Diversy Rock N' Bowl. First of all, I hate it there. I'm not a big fan of rock n' bowl to begin with. The strobe lights, black lights, blarring music and fog machines are just not my cup of tea. The balls there are greasy (pause for a giggle thinking of greasy balls) because there are a lot of little kid's birthday parties there and greasy pizza is served and unlike myself, these kids haven't learned to wipe there greasy hands on their pants before they bowl. The frozen pizza they heated up for me was too expense, the lanes are too expensive ($32 an hour!!!) but most of all, their late night clientel sucks. Personally, I prefer to bowl with balding, middle aged men with tattoos, facial hair and beer bellys. You get none of this at rock n' bowl. Instead, every bimbo in a tube top and every smug, overly confident dude go there for fun. My comrades and I were having a fine time before the lane next to us was overrun by the aforementioned folks. There was one chica in particular that made me grit my teeth and glare in disgust. She was about 5'7, bleached blonde, wearing a tube topish shit and painted on jeans. I hated her before I saw her bowl and dispised her after. She was good. REAL good. And nothing would have made me happier than to punch her in the face. Jackie and Lara agreed with my assessment. They thought she was a nasty bitch too. She did this stupid "shake my butt and put my hands over my head when I get a strike" dance the made my blood boil. I'm all for a celebratory dance...in fact, I demand it. However celebratory dances are supposed to come from a silly, happy, effusive and uncontrollable place within. They are not about looking cute. The opposite is true. They are about looking as ridiculous as possible. We told Lara's husband, Rick, about our analysis of the girl, and he just didn't understand it. So for all you guys out there who don't understand how a woman can hate another woman she has never even met, here are some clues. 1. She wears her hair down while bowling. No one who has long hair does that because it gets in your face. 2. I already discussed the stupid dance. 3. Tube top. There is a certain kind of girl who wears a tube top bowling (there is a certain kind of girl who wears a tube top ever, but that is another blog altogether and sometimes good girls make bad clothing decisions when they are going to a bar). She was busting out of this tube top and it was not condusive to the movement neccesary for bowling. 4. She was with other people who also looked almost as annoying as her. 5. She was a good bowler. You can't be gussied up and a good bowler. I'm sorry but that means that I just have to hate you. So why have I spent the last few minutes ranting about a girl who I don't know and who probably didn't even notice I was next to her, thinking of more reasons not to like her? Because I didn't have anything else more interesting to write about. I guess if I have nothing more interesting to write about than my dislike for a stranger, I'm the big loser in the end. So be it.

Lockout fees are dumb

You know what pisses me off? A landlord charging a fee to let you into your apartment. That's crap. I locked my keys in my apartment this morning. I have done this several times before, so I keep a spare set of keys in my coat pocket (which I normally wear). However today, that coat was locked in my car with the keys to it in my locked apartment. Sigh. The first time I locked myself out, the "landlady" said she'd let me in for free...bit only this one time. Then I did it again and she charged me $10! All this woman's job consists of is making my life uncomfortable and letting people into their apartment. I have never seen her in anything other than a moo-moo. She is about 65, though she acts 110, has dyed orange hair and owns a psycho rescue rat named Penny. I hate this dog, and I am a dog lover. My hatred is not so much because of the dog, but because of Ms. Moo-moo. When I first moved in she asked me what I did. I said research. She said, “Oh it better not be on animals. It makes me sick when people do experiments on poor, helpless, defenseless animals.” Yeah, just like the research that had to be done to test your Aquanet and “Blood of Tenants*” shade of lipstick. I hate that too. Idiot. Also when I first moved in, she told me how she just got out of the hospital because she was having blood and puss leaking from her fat roll in her stomach and it turned out she had a yeast infection there because you can have a yeast infection anywhere it is damp and moist, according to her. If you feel whatever it was you just ate creeping up the back of your throat while reading that, just imagine me having to act like this was a normal subject of conversation while hearing it. Not fun. Anyway, she doesn’t do shit and when she does she bitches about it to no end (but this only happens after 11am, because God forbid she doesn’t get her beauty sleep). If I could put $10 in a deposit box, not speak to anyone and get my spare key to let myself in, that would be no problem. However, there is no chance in hell I will ever again pay $10 to have talk with her (which is necessary to get the key). I should get $10 taken off my rent every time I have to see her. There is a reason that they charge $30 less rent for the apartment next to hers than every other identical apartment in the building. So, back to my point, paying for a let-in is stupid, that is why I give my friends my keys, so I can trek all over town to have them give me my key for free. Thanks Lindsay.

*There is an actual shade of lipstick called Blood of Tenants, but you have to pass a bitch test to access it.

It's my birthday and I'll glow if I want to.

Another year has passed and I am 24. It’s a funny thing, because on the one hand, I still feel pretty young. Most the people I work with are in their late 20’s/ early 30’s. I am still the baby. On the other hand, I feel old. I’m in my mid 20’s for God’s sake. I still have a lot of shit I need to get done and time is a-ticking. I can’t complain too much because I’ve had a pretty spectacular birthday week. It started on the Friday before my birthday. Jascha cooked an amazing dinner and invited a few friends over to share it with me. The dinner included a sushi and egg roll appetizer, salmon and rice entrée and birthday cake to top it off. All of the food was fantastic, Jascha’s apartment was immaculate, there were balloons, friends, banners and happiness and it was just a wonderful present. Jascha’s brother-in-law asked me what I thought of all the work Jascha did. I told him I was very surprised and happy. Not that I don’t expect wonderful things from Jascha, but let’s face it, men aren’t always as sweet and considerate as we hope them to be. This was sweet and considerate beyond my expectations, so I was thrilled. Then it was my actual birthday that Tues. Nothing too spectacular there, mostly because I had school and was stressed out for a quiz on Thurs. Still, I had a record number of calls and emails wishing me a happy day. I always feel a little sheepish when I get that call from a friend wishing me a happy birthday when I have never once in the history of our friendship remembered theirs. My parents sent me flowers at work. Not just flowers. Orchids. And lots of them. They were so beautiful that they really cheered me up (not that I was really down, just not excited about going to class). Then I went to school (blaah blaah blaah) and then Jascha cooked me a birthday meal! Excellent. So then, birthday fun carried over to Wed. because I took the day off so I could relax a bit. Jascha and I went to the Lincoln Park Zoo because 1.) I like animals, 2.) He’d never been there and 3.) It was a beautiful, warm day. It was a lot of fun. For the record, my favorites are the apes and the seals. So finally, my birthday week was wrapped up yesterday. My parents came into the city and we went to see Les Miserables. Now, for the record, I hate musicals. I think they are cheesy and stupid and pointless. The music is awful and it sticks in your head in the bad way. However, there are two exceptions to my hating musicals rule. 1. Les Miserables. 2. Fiddler on the Roof. For this blog I will focus on Les Mis. The music is so beautiful and rich and catchy that I can’t help but either smile widely or cry hysterically. It always needs to be played at full blast and sung at the top of your lungs. I had tearstains on my shirt after the play was done. OH it was wonderful. I went on my first date ever to see Les Mis with my father when I was about seven. I was all dressed up and we went by ourselves to enjoy the theater. I even got out of school for it. So not only is it a fantastic show but it brings back good memories. We went to dinner at MK, a swanky restaurant downtown, afterwards. If you have the means (or your parent’s means) I highly recommend eating there. It was delicious. We went back to my apartment and opened some presents (more than I deserved) and said our goodbyes. It was a wonderful Sunday spent with my family.

So now, a week after my birthday, I think the festivities are about done. I think there is a bowling trip in the mix for a belated birthday, but that is yet to be decided. I’m 24 and couldn’t be happier. I am surrounded by sweet people who love me and I love them. I can’t wait for next year! Yeah Me.