The smallest things that can ruin your day

I am so tired of listicles. First of all, listicle is hands-down the worst word ever created. I would rather read Kimye wedding blogs for all eternity than see the word listicle ever again. So in the spirit of smalls things that drive us crazy, I present:

The smallest things that can ruin your day

(This is not a listicle)

((Ok it kind of is but I won’t tell if you don’t))

1. Perpetual hangnails.

2. That John Legend song.

3. Not having enough space on your phone to take one measly picture, but then when you delete one picture in an eye-for-an-eye fashion, there is still not enough room. 107 deleted pictures and a trashed app later, you’re finally golden.

4. People who turn left.

5. The stress of assembling exact change.

6. Salad dressing spills.

7. The extreme, burning heat generated by your laptop when atop your lap.

8. Non-Halloween incarnations of candy corn.

9. Vindictive parking tickets.

10. Expired links.

11. Nail polish chips.

12. Alternate spellings.

13. Running out of hot water mid-shampoo.

14. That point between spring and summer when it’s too early for air conditioning.

15. Sneaky dryer sheets.

16. Missed calls from an unknown number with no voicemail.

17. Unexpected turbulence.


{Update} Has anyone in this family ever seen a chicken?

So you may remember last November when I rescued two love-torn ceramic chickens from the depths of a bargain bin.


They are currently having a love-in aka tucked safely away in my basement until I move out.

This weekend while shopping for some gifts, I made an incredible discovery.

I found their mom.

The resemblance is uncanny.

I wanted to get her so badly and reunite this feathered family, but with only $13 in my bank account I had to settle for a picture.

I think I might have a problem.

PS if you don’t get the reference in the title of my post, you need to stop whatever you’re doing and go watch Arrested Development right now.

It’s Ok Thursday

I’m so excited that my first time linking up for It’s Ok Thursdays coincides with its one year anniversary!

Its Ok Thursdays

It’s okay…

That I have crushes on fictional 19th century Russian characters.

That I took a full 24 hours to recover from Firefly. And ate half a pan of brownies in the process.

That I didn’t get the grade I needed in my crazy finance intensive and now I have to retake it.

That I weigh myself obsessively.

That I still enjoy the Disney channel.

That I wore a bikini top instead of a bra for two days in a row because I’m too lazy to do laundry.

That I ate cheesecake for dinner tonight.

That I’m sad over what could have been.

That I’m moving on.

Vamping with velociraptors

When you look up synomyms on (which I often do mainly because my brain is too ADHD to be able to think of the word I’m trying to think of), they usually provide example sentences for the use of the word if it can be a verb/noun/adjective/etc. So when I was typing the title for this post, I looked up flirt, and this was one of the example sentences:

He is a master of moving the dialogue along, an epicene flirt with a mustache who wears cashmere jackets and pastel socks.

I would like to find this man and marry him at once.

In other romantic news, I know it’s completely embarrassing and still not totally embraced by society, but I have an online dating account which I use occasionally as an ego boost and also in hopes of talking to interesting people who don’t wear wife beaters. You get a lot of creepy, hilarious, and scary messages, especially when dealing with a free service. I take these in stride, but I hit a new low with a recent message.

It was from a dinosaur.

I don’t mean an old guy. I mean an actual dinosaur. Not just the picture, the entire profile is that of a dinosaur.

So, there you have it. We’re even a 94% match. My dating prospects have now been whittled down to velociraptors.

Oh, and to explain the  context of the message, I have a dinosaur nightlight because I’m afraid of monsters.

I’m not a player, I just crush a lot.

I will freely admit that I am one of those girls who fall in like very quickly. Whether it’s the cute Coast Guard boy in my accounting class, Alec Baldwin, or someone I have an actual shot at dating, I tend to read people fairly well and assess their potential in my large pool of daydream scenarios.

When I’m not crushing on a real, live human being, I sometimes turn to fictional characters. That’s right, I’m a fictiophile. I wouldn’t say I’m quite as creepy as the middle aged women who gets tattoos of Edward Cullen’s face on their bodies, but I’m heading in that direction.

Some of my current and former crushes include:

Oliver Wood (book version, not movie version)

In the books, we get to see him as a man in control (and maybe a little OCD). Yum.

Super Grover

Yes, I have a crush on a Sesame Street character. But it’s the superhero version, so back off.

Marius from Les Mis
If you’ve never seen Les Mis, you really should. I relate so much to Eponine, admiring Marius from afar and dreaming of being with him.
Cory Matthews

How can you not love Cory Matthews? I remember being young and watching Boy Meets World, dreaming about the day I’d meet a guy just like him,  loving and goofy.

Peeta Mellark (book version since I haven't seen the movie)

Oh, Peeta. He may be the perfect guy. Loving, protective, creative, and funny. Plus, he can bake.

Matt Saracen

I dare you to watch Friday Night Lights and not fall in love with Matt. He is so sweet, shy, and dorky, it makes me squeal. Watching him pursue and then love Julie is the most adorable thing ever.

Henry Alden from The Boxcar Children

One of my biggest childhood crushes. I used to dream I was their neighbor and got to go on adventures and fall in love with Henry.

Ephram Brown

Everwood was my favorite show through middle school/early high school. Ephram was my dream guy and probably the reason I dated a pianist. He was dark and brooding, and yet had this sarcastic humor I just loved.

 I’ve left out one of my biggest crushes: my Disney “prince” crush! You can see him revealed here tomorrow. (Ah, the anticipation).

And now that I’ve ‘fessed up, who are some of your fictional crushes?

I’m the next Scorcese

I am a multi-talented kid. I am a songwriter, a stand-up comedian, and a renowned Sculpey artist. But two of my greatest hidden talents are my skills as a director and videographer.

You all know I’m a terrible matchmaker and ended up stealing a boy from my friend. Well, Kyle and I were together until the night before high school started when he broke up with me over AIM because his mom wanted him to concentrate on school instead of girls. I’m fairly convinced the real reason was that he hated Disney World and refused to plan our imaginary Disney wedding. But this is all in the past.

Fast forward a couple months and we still have a great deal of mutual friends. He has a new girl (proving my Disney world theory), but it’s okay because I had moved on to older men. We were in the same English class along with all of our friends and our teacher Mrs Hayes assigned a group project. We had to team up and recreate Romeo and Juliet using any medium we preferred.

We ended up with about 12 people in our group for some reason, including Kyle. We decided to make a modern movie version of Romeo & Juliet. We began casting roles and everyone wanted Kyle to be Romeo since he was tall and good-looking. I was pushed to be Juliet because of my acting experience (I was the only freshman cast in the high school’s fall play and one of two freshman girls in the spring musical. I was kind of a rockstar.) However, due to our history, I refused to partner up with Kyle. Another girl played Juliet and I chose to move behind-the-scenes and took on the role of director and videographer.

Our group was a bunch of type-A honor roll kids, so of course the production was a huge deal. We wrote a script, had costumes, set design, and everyone memorized their lines. We got together almost every day for two weeks to work on everything and film. Most of the filming was done around my house and neighborhood since it was close to some of my groupmates homes. We filmed the balcony scene with “Juliet” leaning out of my bedroom window.

The climactic scene of our movie was the lovestruck couple meeting at a bridge and planning to run away together before they are caught and they jump off. This was the last scene we needed to film and we had spent all day on it. There was a little bridge over a stream in the neighborhood next to mine, so we filmed there. We were having a hard time getting it right and everyone was getting antsy.

We finally got the take we needed and wrapped filming. My mom drove down to pick us and our equipment and props up to bring us back to my house for pizza and a screening of our masterpiece. We came in, put everything away, and settled in to watch.

I plugged in the video camera and suddenly noticed something was wrong. Instead of the opening scenes, all I saw was what looked like the inside of a car. I could hear my own voices and my friends’ voices in the background. I tried rewinding and fastforwarding, but couldn’t find anything we had filmed.

I had forgotten to turn the camera off after the last scene and somehow ended up taping over everything we had filmed the last two weeks.

Everyone was absolutely pissed. I nearly broke down into tears, but there was no one else to blame. The group quickly tried to figure out a time for everyone to get together to re-film the entire movie. Someone proposed doing it that weekend, but I was going to be out of town for a dance competition and said I couldn’t make it. No one seemed to care that the girl who had ruined the entire project couldn’t make it, so they decided to get together that weekend anyway.

We had to present our projects in the class the next week and I tried every trick in the book to get my mom to let me stay home. I ran the thermometer under hot water and did as much fake coughing as I could to no avail.

English was last period and I spent the whole day dreading it. I was afraid the video would turn out terribly, we’d get a bad grade, and it’d be all my fault.

It finally came time for class and I purposely sat in the back corner away from the angry glares of my group mates. One of them popped in the video as I turned white from nervousness.

It actually turned out well, almost as good as what we had originally filmed. Our teacher was amazed at how far above and beyond we had gone and immediately rewarded each of us extra credit.

Everyone in the group eventually forgave me, but I was never trusted with a video camera again.

Just have sex

I was lounging around tonight when Kelsey arrived looking like the lovechild of a leprechaun and Kermit the Frog. We caught up and she proceeded to tell me about her experience at the Syracuse basketball game last Saturday. Shaquille O’Neal was visiting Syracuse are part of the “Stupid Drink” binge drinking campaign their advertising students had used to win the American Advertising Federation’s National Student Advertising Competition two years ago (aka they beat Ithaca aka they suck). The school paid Shaq to speak at the basketball game about binge drinking. Kelsey was complaining about how short his speech was and how it was the totally wrong venue for him to be speaking since it’s so loud and everyone’s already drunk. She then claimed that at the end of the speech, after telling students they shouldn’t drink too much, he told them to “just have sex” instead.

She said the chancellor was super pissed about this and that Shaq had lifted her up like she was his cub and he was Rafiki. I was kind of surprised that this had happened, but then her mom chimed in that, no, Shaq had not told the students to go hump, he had said “Georgetown sucks!”

Kelsey decided this makes a lot more sense since every time someone speaks at SU, they end their speech with this proclamation since ‘Cuse and Georgetown are big rivals. Now of course we are all in hysterics over this and the first thing we did was go to Youtube to see if we could find the speech. We were successful. You may now judge for yourself whether Shaq is promoting an NCAA rivalry or telling kids to fornicate instead of binge drinking:

My greatest regret

I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life. I’ve ridden in the back of a police car four times, I’ve skipped flossing, and I’ve lied about eating the last piece of cake.

But nothing compares to the huge mistake I made as a freshman in high school.

When I was 14, I finally got to redecorate my room. I had grown up in a pink, frilly prison that my mother had so lovingly designed. I hated it. I had tried to cover up the flowery wallpaper with Broadway posters and my own artsy masterpieces to no avail. But now I finally had my chance to design my dream room.

I spent months scouring interior design websites, magazines, and stores. I had to scratch my plan of erecting Roman columns in place of a doorway, but I finally found a color scheme I loved.

I convinced my mom to let me rip up the carpet to expose the gorgeous wooden floor. I went with a clean, beachy vibe: turquoise walls with orange and green lanterns, and striped sheets. I scored an awesome papasan chair on sale. I finally picked out some gorgeous white furniture which would eventually be my first set when I moved out after college.

Now here’s where I made my mistake. Even though I hated my childhood room, there was one perk: my bed. I was the owner of a queen-sized waterbed. I don’t remember how this happened (although I like to imagine it was a Princess & the Pea scenario), but regardless, it was mine.

When picking out my new bed, I decided I wanted more floor space. And the best way to accomplish this was to downsize my bed.

Now it would have been one thing to go for a full. This would still be an acceptable bed size for adult Christine, but it would be small enough to give me some additional dance space in my current room. However, stupid me decided to take the plunge and get a twin.

My mom tried for weeks to talk me out of it. She kept reminding me that this would be my furniture when I moved out. She tried to convince me that I would never be able to fit the 8 pillows I had been accustomed to sleeping with into such a small bed.

I didn’t listen.

All my friends had twin-sized beds and plenty of room for activities in their rooms. All I could do when I had friends over was lay in my bed making prank phone calls to the boys we liked.

The twin bed was my final decision. The day it arrived, it looked way smaller than it had in the catalogue. Luckily, I was tiny and could fit in with plenty of room to spare.

Eight years later and I wish I could go back in time and kick myself in the face. After two years of on-campus living with twin-sized beds, I finally moved off and got to experience my first big bed in years. I was spoiled. When I came home, even though my familiar twin bed was still comfy with lots of pillows and blankets, it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t sleep on a diagonal angle or in any of the weird positions I had become accustomed to.

I recently asked my mom why she let me get the stupid tiny bed instead of a grown-up one. She told me it had been my decision and now I have to live with it. I secretly think it was her attempt to prevent me from fitting a boy in with me. Let’s just say that was a failed attempt and a story for another time.

A different kind of dog luvr

Let me preface this by saying I adore animals. Seriously.  I’ve grown up raising money to save the rainforest and volunteering at animal shelters and I rarely eat meat.  And animals love me.  Even the ones that hate everyone else.  My best friend has a yorkie who will not go near anyone outside of the immediate family, except me.  She runs away from everyone else, but when I come over she’s all over me.

This is my 10th night of dogsitting in the past two months.  And my disdain for this dog has reached an unimaginable point.  From the second I walk in the door, the dog is all over me, scratching, barking, and displaying his constant erections like a trophy.

The grossest part is that the dog shares dishes with the owner.  Seriously.  They eat off the same plates.  This is not endearing, it’s disgusting, and the reason why I had to bring my own set of silverware and plates to avoid cross-contamination.  The house is covered in pug paraphernalia and looks like the perfect setting for a horror movie.  God help me if I’m in my thirties and living like this.

I’m definitely not the most patient person, but I’ve never had this much trouble.  And you’re talking to the girl that used to help train abused dogs and commanded birthday parties of 30 screaming 5-year-old boys.  I have tried everything I know to calm this dog down and nothing helps.

This dog had better never run for president because he will be hit with a slew of sexual harassment charges.

*Update* I’ve taken him out 5 times since 4pm and walked him for about 20 minutes. And of course he decides to poop inside on the floor. AWESOME.

Has anyone in this family ever seen a chicken?

I think I might be a hoarder.

It’s not that I have trouble getting rid of stuff – I regularly donate things or sell them in a little consignment shop a few towns over.  But I have some weird penchant for collecting crazy things that I have no immediate use for.

Today I took my monthly trip to the consignment shop to drop off winter clothes and Christmas decorations to be sold and get my money from the items that sold in the past month.  I got almost $100 which is a pretty good deal and anything that doesn’t sell in a month or two is donated.  I wandered around the shop while they went through my latest items and of course wanted to buy everything.  There’s so much fun, cooky stuff in consignment shops.  I found a gorgeous orange antique teapot that I would have snatched up right away if it hadn’t been so expensive.

I was able to resist most of the awesome things I saw, but then I came across the most amazing find ever.

Ceramic chickens.

And the best part? They perfectly match the black/red/navy theme I have for my future kitchen.  I nervously approached and checked the price. $5 per chicken.  I was smitten.

I picked my favorite out of the the four on display.  There were two pairs that matched each other, but I decided one chicken was enough.  I brought him to the counter and got ready to pay.

However, a tiny part of me felt bad for abandoning the other chicken.  Now he was third wheel to the other chicken pair.  He was probably longing for his buddy whom I was now taking away from him forever.  And yes, inanimate objects do have feelings

I asked the cashier to hold on and I ran over to grab the other chicken.  I felt proud of myself for helping to keep chicken love alive.  I’m trying to decide what to name them.  I’m thinking Fitzgerald and Jude, but I’m open to suggestions.