Ya know, life stuff

So I got called out on not blogging much (at all) by TK. He wrote a great piece on designating the great white shark as California's official fish. I'm biased because I was quoted as being the genesis of the idea. My bias aside, any post that has a breaching great white shark with the caption, "California Motherfuckers!!!!!" is pretty awesome.

So...

...I got engaged. And below I'm gonna gush and talk about real life stuff. So. Ya know. Feel free to skip if you're not about the feeeeelings. Which I'm not even usually about.

Wow, April (and also May)

Sorry for the extended writing absence. Even now I should be doing research and not writing but I'm sort of exhausted and my brain is in over-drive so here I am. A LOT has been going on. (And I started writing this post weeks ago and of course didn't finish so forgive the back tracking and then rambling as well.)

La Vie

Man, I really suck at posting anymore, huh? About a year ago I was like, "I'm gonna write ALL THE TIME! And, like, dedicate myself to this and be on top of it! And get good!" The gods laughed at my plans and I think I did the opposite.

On the other hand, you should thank me for not just sprouting bs for the sake of sprouting bs. I could do that, but then it would diminish the value of this...free service that I provide that is most of the time me shouting into the ether.

Anyway, updates! List form!

Brain Melt

I'm coming to terms with that in my life, I will never be calm, cool, and collected around members of the opposite sex I deem attractive. Actually, I can omit the last part of that sentence. I'm just going to be forever awkward in pretty much all situations. But in particular around dudes.

This was especially true last Thursday night.

Objects of Desire

Today we're talking about hot dudes. Yeah, I know...

Actually, we're not doing one of those posts where I just talk about how hot dudes are. It was going to be one of those posts but something happened along the way and it got more complicated than that.

I am always conflicted talking about the attractiveness of men. As a lower case f feminist (while I hold some feminist ideals, I kinda fail at holding a banner and being all FEMINIST. I hate to quote Drake but "oh yeah, that's right, I'm doing me", so causes and having a "feminist ideology" and being pissed off about everything ever as indicated by the Jezebel comments section isn't really for me.), the female gaze is no better than the male gaze. I feel guilty distilling men down to just their looks, the way it is so often done to females. I'd say it should be equal opportunity, but really it shouldn't be done at all. Except is appreciating beauty such a bad thing? And I realize that we are all more than just our looks or any one feature or characteristic. All special snowflakes! Sorry, I don't mean to be trite. I really do believe each person is complex and not defined by any one aspect.

A Wedding and A Londoner

My good friends got married on Friday. Yes, they had an 11-11-11 wedding. And I was super happy for them. Their wedding on the other hand? Folks, I promise you if I ever get married and have a big fancy wedding (which it will be big and fancy because along with football fanatic, I am a princess), I will have a wedding planner to make sure shit runs smooth. You need to have someone take care of all the ball busting on the day of the wedding, to make sure people are in their place and things are running on time, because you're too busy being happy in love. Or whatever.

Hate Having Feelings

One of my beloved LSU football players tweeted the title of this post. And I totally agreed. I hate having feelings too! But I do. They exist. Somewhere beneath my well-cultivated, but totally porous, exoskeleton, there they are. And I can't always bury them deep enough, as much as my repressed Irish Catholic self would like that. So instead I'm burying them after the jump. Because I can't afford therapy.

Dranking

I was all "Why is the internet so boring right now?" And I realized a) it's Saturday night and b) it's an absurd holiday weekend. Everyone is out dressing slutty because they aren't actually slutty and making out in bars. Boo, internet. I need you to dance for me!

I don't usually go out on big holidays. It's not my thing. I sort of hate...everyone. But especially crowds. And the downside of being from the teeny tiny hamlet of San Francisco, where everyone knows everyone, is that someone will inevitably see me act like the kind of jackass you act on these nights and it gets back to my parents and that's no good. Plus transport is a pain in the ass and...well...you can see my general attitude towards it is why I don't go out on what are amateur nights. I prefer to keep my assyness to every other weekend on the calendar, leaving these festive type weekends to the young'uns.

I went to see Hair tonight. It was fun. It felt a little like a high school production though. Just really exuberant young people dancing around for 3 hours with very little plot. Not that that's a complaint (lots of shirtless pretty 20 something doods is alright by me). And I may be listening to the soundtrack now and dancing around the beach house. Maybe.

Which is a nice change from yesterdays attitude. See: I got "He's not that into you"'d by a 22 year old. Frankly, that's the height of absurdity. I spent a few hours pissed about it, then a day feeling all rejected and losery, eating all my favorite junk foods. Then I got real talk from my friends/stepsis and now I'm gonna dance around the beach house and drink leftovers from the party and he can kindly gfh because I'm awesome. I mean, I'm playing tug-o-war with the 90 pound pitbull while drinking beer with the windows open. That's AWESOME. And he could be here. But he's not. So screw him (figuratively, of course).

About that pitbull: I suddenly had the genius idea that I need to make him 2 other false heads and he can go as cerberus for Halloween. Why did I not think of that earlier? I always said if I got a dog as big and intimidating as him he'd be named Cerby. I geek out on mythology.

Anyway, all of that is a long way of saying, I'm gonna live blog the drinking. But frankly, it might be short because I'm kinda ready to just go to sleep. Alone. Stupid boys. (Drink 1: pumpkin ale stuff. Why does everyone love this? It's like drinking pie. I prefer to eat my pie.)

12:42: the 90 lb dog is laying across my lap. I told him he's not exactly what I had in mind to cuddle with tonight. Yes, I speak out loud to my dogs. Whatever, you do it too. It never ceases to amuse the hell out of me how something that's supposed to be so fearsome can be such a baby.

In other news: my workouts, while (somewhat) consistent, haven't exactly been pushing the limit lately. I'm gonna do the 7 mile walk/hike up through Land's End tomorrow as punishment exercise. I made a goal to be able to jog four miles by the end of the year. So I gotta start working on that. I really really hate being fat and it contributes to a lot of these boy problems, methinks. (Such a fatass. Drink 2: Heineken. After this is crap American beers leftover from party like Bud and Miller. Might switch to Jameson, rocks.)

1:13: I am still on beer 2. The hell? I am also listening to the entire Lost Boys soundtrack. And still resisting purchasing the movie for $4.99 on iTunes. Because I'm not sure I'd actually watch it that much but nostalgia dictates I should have it. There's really only one song to listen to on the soundtrack and that's the epic Santa Cruz bonfire/Jason Patrick sees Jamie Gertz/saxaphone heavy song I Still Believe. Okay, Cry Little Sister is pretty legit too.

1:21 Moved to beer 3, found an Abita in the fridge. Still listening to Lost Boys soundtrack.

2:04 and still on the Abita. Guess I'm not really into this drinking thing tonight. Keep pushing the pit off of my section of the couch. Started watching Real Genius but got bored with that so now just me and the dogs on the couch. Alright, I'm also half screwing around on stupid online dating site, that I had previously quit and thought I was all badass. I didn't even quit it for a month. Geezus. It's just, ya know, ME on the couch though and that's kind of a bummer. Think it's prolly time to call it a night. (Fortunately sober so not doing anything idiotic with my phone. But so tempted.)

Weekend Lunacy

You guys. It was...pretty epic. It involved doing shots of Crown Royal with the Canadian Navy (all of who were super ridiculously good looking. I mean, even their girls were really pretty. Like stunningly. Like way too pretty to be trapped on a ship. Gorgeous. And the guys were all tall and...Canadian.) It involved accomplishing a long held goal of sorts. It involved kicking the ever loving pants off the University of Florida in football. It was full of win. And then the worst hangover of football season/the year so far on Sunday which is kind of a loss. Oh, and it involved ordering a replacement credit card. So. Yeah.

Dating (Grumble)

The Russian wants to go out again. The engineer loves the banter and wants to go for drinks. And the idiot from last summer suddenly feels compelled to reach out and be friends. (That last one led to a pretty epic takedown. I'm fairly proud of myself there. It basically involved saying, "I don't need more friends." Unfortunately that wasn't enough of a hint blatant statement and for his own selfish reasons he insists we can be best buds. Yeah. No. Not happening.)

Honestly? Care not a lick about any of it. I'm trying. "Yay! Attention!" But really I feel like Goldilocks. "Too..." Well, the "too" is nothing I should really divulge as they will make me look shallow and horrible. Which I am, a little bit. I'll own that much. And if you know me, you know that and love me regardless. Just...none of it is quite right, ya know? And I'm not in the mood to fake it right now. Head tilt, laugh, witty comment, sip drink. Lather, rinse, repeat.

And there are lingering "But there's someone jussstt right..." I know the potential now exists for a 6'+ guy who is into sports and is actually smartassy and sarcastic and doesn't just THINK he's those things without actually being them, and tolerates it in me, without just thinking he's tolerating it. (Seriously, the number of guys who want honesty, get it thrown at them, and then balk is phenomenal. And banter. They all need to look up the definition. Telling me "You're so funny", while flattering, is not actually banter. Really? That's all you got? I need a challenge. I need someone who gives as good as they get. Rolling over and wanting your belly rubbed is for my dogs, not a guy, and does exactly nothing for me. There's no excitement there.)

I know I sound horrible for bitching about this and plenty of girls would love to just be fawned over and told they are great, but...I'm not one of them. I have flaws. Obvious ones. And I can be hard on myself. I'm just another girl in a sea of girls. Straight flattery makes me uncomfortable. Example: I got a compliment from someone whose opinion actually matters the other night and it just made me squirm. Which I told him. Which he knew. Yes, these are my own insecurity issues and I need to get over them. Just, in dating I need an entirely different approach than what I think the universe has conditioned us in the norm through movies and Cosmo.

So why am I even IN this position? I dunno. I figured I had to get back out there and couldn't just mope forever. There's not really anything else going on? Why not? Those are really awful reasons, I realize. And after reading this handy little guide to dating, I'm realizing it's not really fair for me to half ass it. I think I'll nip it all in the bud and do some of that self reflection bullshit. (I'm just oozing positivity today, aren't I?)

It's baseball season which means going to games with my dad (excited for mid-week day game baseball tomorrow). And playing with my dogs is more enjoyable than most of these other interactions. I want to kick it with my friends and talk about hockey and drink good whiskey. That's how I like to spend my time. THIS is why I'll be single forever. I'm okay with that as a fact. Embrace it, actually.

I think until I can invest some energy and interest in actually meeting people, I should probably quit with this trying to date nonsense.

In other news: It's festival season here in the 'Sco. I'm actually stoked for North Beach festival. (Yes, I called it the 'Sco and said stoked. Bite me.) I have avoided this the past couple years, what with bar study and general feelings of...ya know, reference above insecurities.

But suddenly, and not accidentally, I'm feeling a little bit more confident. I know, the most confident insecure girl ever. I can run, y'all. Like for real. It's still more jogging at 5.5 mph. (I figure at 10 min mile makes it running and not jogging.) I can do three miles. Not quite 3 straight, but working up to that. Maybe tonight, as I got new running shoes. Which I am way more excited about than is probably necessary.

I won't admit to losing any weight, I haven't been on a scale in forever, but I know that my clothes are fitting differently. The suit I wore to my swearing in ceremony I was swimming in. I looked at some pictures from summer '08, deciding if I should go back to that hair color or not, and I was thought, "Wow, I gotta be way slimmer than that!" That's kind of...exciting. There is still a ton of work to be done, which can be daunting, and I still have to watch what I eat and all that fun stuff, but it feels good to know I can begin to kick ass and take names. Now to look like 19 year old me... (Buahahahah!)

Endings

Eh, just burying it all after the jump. Will not talk about it after this.

Chicken (soup)

You're getting a two for one today. This will be both "how to feed yourself like a grown up" (especially when sick) and a story of how I totally punted and now feel LAME. (Skip down four paragraphs if you know how to make/don't care about soup.)

Reversing Jinxes

I decided, after much contemplation and not wanting to go to that giggly ridiculous girl place where I LOSE MY DAMN MIND, that my superstitious beliefs cause more problems than good. So screw it. Caution to the wind. Let's talk about that thing I wasn't talking about on Saturday.

Heaven and Setbacks

I went to the Giants game last night with Dad and Angela. I didn't go to Momo's, as per custom. I went to Pete's Tavern so I could watch a bit of the Caps game. 15 freaking TVs in Pete's and the Caps game was only on one. Pretty sure I was the only one watching. And we went into the game early so I didn't see the 3rd period. But that's cool. Thanks to Twitter it's not hard to keep up on the action and go "GOOD SASHA SCORE OT GOAL!" (Alex Semin does ridiculously boneheaded stuff and is often Bad Sasha. Then he scores gorgeous OT goals and is Good Sasha. Cuz I'm an expert now, y'all.)

The game was awesome. Hhheeaveen, even. It was exciting and back and forth and fantastic pitching and we had good seats on the promenade level. There didn't seem to be a lot of Dodgers fans there and the fact that no one was jerky, at all, and we had a really good time makes me excited to go to more games, and gets rid of some of the hesitant feelings I had.

The only minor problem was the four people a couple rows in front of us who don't know to only get up during breaks in the action and to sit down immediately once you get to your seat. We can't see over you! But they ended up being fine because after Lilly did his third pitch out with Huff on first, I yelled, "COME ON! Stop it with the pitch out! Huff's NOT gonna steal!" Guy in Huff jersey, part of the group of four, turned around and said, "I know, right?! He's my brother and *I* know he's not gonna steal." I don't know if it was really his brother but that was pretty funny. Truth is, after the next pitch it was a full count with two outs and the hit and run was on, so there was steal potential. Huff still wasn't gonna get far enough off the bag to get the cheap out though. Oh, and for all of Huff's flailing in right field this year, which has been painful to watch, he had a gorgeous catch in foul territory in the early innings. It was a really really fantastic game. Complete with warning to both benches after Lilly plunked Posey a second time. Related: I'm disappointed Buster doesn't go up to a Busta Rhymes song. I feel he should. (I've also decided for no particular reason that Busta is my favorite rapper. As if rap and the opinion of a 30 year old white girl (please don't make me use woman) matters.) So: game = awesome. Wait: amended on Posey. As I was typing, Andy sent me this. I think that should be Posey's walk out music.

I sort of gave up on being "good" yesterday, eating healthy blah blah blah. I did do OnDemand yoga in the morning though, so that's something. I am not flipping bendy. But I'm working on it. My hamstrings have always been incredibly tight, even when I had a trainer stretching them once a week. Since I no longer have a trainer they are way worse so it was good to begin loosening those up again. I woke up to a bag full of donuts from my mother and just figured, "Ahhh, screw it. Free day!" Her and I are playing a psychological warfare game. It's kinda awesome. I make her rice krispy treats and cookies, which she half yells at me for because I don't actually eat any of them and she does. So then she bought me donuts. Mother daughter relationships are special, y'all. So I ate two donuts. Then nothing else. 'Til right before the game when I ate a buffalo chicken salad because I knew a hot dog and garlic fries weren't gonna cut it, though I did eat that too. And I drank beer at the game, first time in three weeks consuming any discernible amount of alcohol. I was buzzed and fuzzy but not stupid drunk. And I then when I got home I felt soooo ill. Beer and garlic fries and a polish are not my thing anymore, apparently. So I feel like I ate a weeks worth of calories in one sitting yesterday. But I won't let this be a permanent setback. Back on the horse today.

About the alcohol: I used the fuzzy warm feelings as an excuse to check my stupid online dating account. That was dumb. I just wanted to delete messages, but they led to conversations and inappropriate bullshit comments from guys. There's a big long diatribe I could go into about my current mental state/issues with boys/myself blah blah blah but not currently in the mood to vomit that all over the internet so to sum up: I'm really happy being single. And I don't mean that in a "She doth protest too much" way where all your married/couple friends roll their eyes and go "Yeah right!" because who could POSSIBLY be happy alone. I really mean it. I'm finally holding out for someone I actually enjoy spending time with. I know, right? And until some guy can sit in a bar and watch a sporting event with me while engaging in witty banter, I'm cool on my own. Currently, not to sound all crazy dog person, but using the 35# dog as a pillow is a favorite past time. Like I am now.

Alright, I got a day packed of gym going, room cleaning, and football writing. Whee!

Mornings

I'm explaining this for a final time (I'm fairly certain I've explained it before somewhere, once upon a time, who knows where I put it).

VD

I think there's a reason Valentine's Day and Venereal Disease share the same initials. They're both LAMMEE, at the very least. Valentine's Day was fun when you were in grade school and everyone got candy and cards. If it was still silly with candy and cards for everyone, I'd be down. I actually thought of doing that for my friends this year, but, ya know, bar study. Anyway, grown ass couples should just pretend it isn't happening. Candy and hearts are ridiculous. Going out on Valentine's Day is a waste of money and if anyone ever unironically buys me a stuffed bear that says, "I love you beary much" I reserve the right to break up with them on the spot. I say none of this just because I am single, I'd feel the exact same way if I were part of a couple.

BUT! Amazingly enough, this post is not an indictment of the "holiday", you can find that anywhere else on the internet today. Instead I will retell the story of the most amazing Valentine's Day I ever had. It's a repost from the old blog, edited and amended since then, the writing hopefully sharpened so please reread. Also: hot damn to this day I still ADORE this story/happening in my life. Valentine's Day, even when only tangental to the story, can have good moments. Enjoy!

Miss Independent

THE most hysterical thing happened late last night that has me lolz-ing right now.

Sleep?

I could not sleep last night. I was literally up 'til 6:30 a.m. I tried to sleep but gave up and played on the interwebs. I was up til 2:30 a.m. as it was working on Con Law. During that time my brain, which isn't all that girly and marriage focused, planned an entire wedding to a guy I don't know in real life. I have GOT to get out of the house. And because I slept all funky and screwed up, I feel a little off today. I don't think Dr Pepper is going to fix my problem.

So! More random thoughts!

One of THOSE posts

This isn't particularly interesting for anyone but me. (That is what an English professor would call a BAD hook. "No, really, this'll be awful, don't you want to read it now?" Geezus. Way to get inside my reader's head.) Let's try that again, shall we? 

This will be one of those posts where I talk about all the hot unattainable guys I see on TV and in movies. My take on it should be the regular amusing fare but it won't be particularly deep or anything. Hey, I can't bare my soul ON THE INTERNET every day. (I always capitalize that because even I am a little shocked sometimes I do bare my life on here. It's weird and sort of self involved, right? And someday may have real world repercussions. Meet the love of my life and he reads about that time at the bar I did that thing. That'll go over well. [Answer: shouldn't matter because he loves me for me and my awesomeness will prevail. [This is all super hypothetical, I'll stop thinking about it now]])

Since I've been relegated to the house and have done nothing even remotely interesting since...I went out to watch the LSU game (2 long weeks ago), I find my escape in the teevee. And I've noticed when I am denied cursory access to the opposite sex in some form, I start fixating on the pretty that Hollywood puts forth. So: this is a BOYZ post. With some critical TV and movie analysis thrown in, because I can't help it. I used to do these posts every so often on the old blog but I haven't done one here. I guess because I was off having a life. But since that ain't happening (and neither is studying apparently. Which leads to bar nightmares. Which are AWESOME, by the way), I bestow on your my current crush objects.