Look who's all grown up

Oh my goodness, we took the plunge.

I know it's been a while since I've updated, but I've actually been pretty busy lately! Work has picked up, I'm enrolled in grad school, I've taken up two new hobbies (holler at me if you want to buy some paintings, just sayin...), and Boyfriend and I BOUGHT A HOUSE!

I know, crazy, right? If you'll remember my post from just a few months back, I was freaking out over the idea of all my friends settling down as I struggled to afford to feed both my dog AND my cat. Well, look how things have turned around! I owe this change completely to the fact that Boyfriend finally got a real grown-up job and started helping with the rent. Oh and I finally got most of my credit cards paid off, which, phew!

The house is in a great neighborhood, and a convenient location, and I'm super stoked about it. The only problem is: the house is kind of in shambles. I'm not entirely sure who decorated this house, but holy Hell, did they have some kind of wacky taste.

Exhibit A:



Exhibit B:



Look at that! Take a moment to marvel at its beauty!! I'll wait.

.....You done? OK. So basically, we have our work cut out for us. We've been working on the place non-stop since settlement, and it's... in a word... not fun. (Or in 2 words, I guess.) That house is like a goddamn onion. Every layer we peel off yields another more unslightly layer below it. And it definitely has made me cry at one point or two. Oh, and also, we're pretty sure it's haunted. I'm not really going to get into it, because it freaks me out, but all I'll say is that I'm trying to keep the environment positive so that whatever's in there doesn't feed on our negativity and pull me out of bed in the middle of the night, possess me, and force me to kill Boyfriend. (Spoiler?)

So to end this post on a positive note (please don't hurt us, Poltergeist), I'll say this: on the plus side, spending crazy amounts of hours per week renovating a house + having no food in said house = unintentional weight loss. So there's that.

I know, I know...

So, I'm in grad school now. It sucks, and that's why I've neglected the blog that no one reads. (I'm going to need to work on that one, I think.)

Moving along:

Isn't that the cutest little face you've ever seen? I just want to pinch his little cheeks and squeeze all the air right out of his fat little belly!

Okay, I'm not crazy. But seriously, how cute is he?

Unfortunately, he is also the Devil.

Duke is nearly 2 years old and, sadly, does not know any commands other than "sit" (which he only does when he feels like it.) So Boyfriend and I decided to teach him how to speak. (Video to come later.) It's cute as hell, mostly because he has a raspy little bark that makes him sound like an old man who's been smoking 3 packs a day his whole life. But the trick totally backfired on us.

You see, Boyfriend didn't really think things through when he started training Duke to speak while dangling Thanksgiving turkey in front of his face as a treat. At first, Duke's thought process was: Treat = Bark. Then it became: Turkey = Bark. Then it evolved to: Any Food = Bark. Now it's finally come to rest at: Anything In The World = Bark.

I am going absolutely crazy. Maybe when I post the video I will loop it so you can listen to that little raspy Devil bark over and over and over and over and over and over again like I have to all day and night..........

I'm baaaack....

...Not that anyone reads this blog and/or noticed. Ahem.

Sorry for my brief leave of absense, but to be totally honest with you, I just didn't really have all that much to say. My life has generally consisted of:

1. Wake up
2. Go to work
3. Do stuff at work
4. Come home from work
5. Get ready to go to the gym
6. Fall asleep on my bed, dressed in my gym clothes
7. Wake up
8. Watch TV
9. Eat food I probably shouldn't be eating
10.Go back to bed

And repeat.

I know, fascinating stuff, right? But some noteworthy things have happened during the past week or so, and now I am back in the saddle.

Most notably, I have finally joined the ranks of iPhone users. I am overjoyed; I feel like the little chubby girl in school who was always picked last for everything, and teased mercilessly, and then grows up, gets boobs, becomes really super hot, and suddenly finds herself in the midst of the cool kids. I know that practically everyone has already gotten their hands on one of these little babies, but I had a bad bout of luck with the iPhone. You see, literally the SAME MONTH that it came out, I had renewed my two year contract with Verizon. So I couldn't switch! I just had to wait... and wait... and wait... and watch everyone - even old people who 2 years ago didn't even know how to text - purchase the one item I wanted more than anything in the world. But oh, sweet vengeance: Since I jumped on the bandwagon so late (thanks, Verizon) I got my iPhone for like $300 less than anyone else! And it's a top of the line 3rd generation. Muahahahaha.

Needless to say, I am obsessed with it. I have become that dork who's incessantly telling people, "Oh and you know what else about my iPhone?", "Oh hey, I just downloaded this app (that stands for 'application', I'm sure you didn't know that) that has a lighter on it!". My iPhone, my iPhone, my iPhone. Boyfriend is about ready to kill me, I think. So through all of this, I realized I've come full circle.

Stage 1: Dork that's behind the curve, desperately wanting to catch up to all the cool kids

Stage 2: Finally feels cool and accepted once that magical little Apple logo brushes her fingertips

Stage 3: Becomes dorky again after annoying everyone - including people who already have iPhones and are already sick of them - by never shutting up about how amazing her iPhone is.

Come to think of it, I've just now realized how many times have I typed the word "iPhone" in this post. Point taken. I'll just be over in the corner now, playing Paper Toss.

Blast from the Past

You know how a lot of people who were born in/grew up during the 80's always wax nostalgic about the "good old days"? Like the days of Fraggle Rock, the Goonies, and ABC's TGIF line-up? Nah-uh, not me. Those were not my good old days. My good old days came a bit later than that, during a little time some might like to call "Puberty", and it involved these five harmonic, strapping young men (okay, three harmonic, strapping young men; a fat, bearded Italian and a creepy old guy with multi-colored dreds who stood in the back a lot):



Oh my, that brings back memories. Long before my Britney Spears worship existed, there could only be one: *NSYNC. (Only the hardcore fans like me knew it was really spelled all-caps, with an asterisk in front, not with some pansy-ass apostrophe between the "N" and the partially lowercased "Sync".)

I was reminded of my *NSYNC obsession by my good friend Tim, who randomly emailed me their "Tearin' Up My Heart" video today and told me he had heard it on the radio and it made him think of me. Bad call, Tim. That one innocent little email spiraled into a frenzied me-watching-every-*NSYNC-video-on-YouTube-clickfest. But the email got me thinking. After the little thing called Puberty, another little thing happened called Me Growing Up (and then, subsequently, *NSYNC Breaking Up So Justin Could Turn Into A Douchebag And Go Solo) and I grew out of my boyband-worship phase. I thought I had mostly forgotten about them. Turns out, I didn't. Turns out, I had hastily bid them a fond farewell and buried them in the back of my mind like last season's pants that don't fit anymore. You know, the ones you don't even want to look at because everytime you do, you are reminded of what you're missing. Yeah, kind of like that.

But what I realized it that my teenage love never died. I pushed them away like a scorned lover, only for them to resurface at the weirdest, most embarrassing times: mostly when I am drinking. Tim will take the floor from here.

"O.K....we started with dinner at Cafe Fresco that night....got bored quickly with the clubs and went to Mannechor with Bobby Haines. By this point, you are buzzed...after two nuclear mannechor drinks, you were flying high...which lead to me giving you a $5 for the jukebox where you played some Britney...assorted artists and Tearing up My Heart! That led to your American Idol performance of Tearing up My Heart where Markus sang along with you while saying that 'he isn't ashamed to know the lyrics'! You two were quite a pair... You danced while you sang, Markus didn't leave his chair. After the song, you hugged me and then you took a bow!"

Vital information:
1. At the time of this incident, I barely knew any of these people
2. The Mannechor is a members-only club
3. The median age of Mannechor patrons is 67
4. There were choreographed dance moves involved
5. I do not remember this

I've heard various reports of incidents like this happening to me from time to time around the area, and while I'm quite embarrassed, I can't truly say that I'm surprised.

Once an *NSYNC diehard, always an *NSYNC diehard, I guess....

One bridesmaid's dress, Two bridesmaid's dresses, Three bridesmaid's dresses, Floor.

It's happening. My friends are starting to buy houses and get engaged.

Christ, am I really this old? I still feel like a child and I'm pretty sure I still act like a child. For example: not more than five minutes ago, I finished my sushi lunch, and then proceeded to literally drink my leftover soy sauce out of its little cup. DRINK. IT. That's childlike, no? Or maybe it's just disgusting and pathetic. Whatever.

Anyways. Perhaps I am still a child, and it just so happens that I hang out with people who are the same chronological age as me, but much farther ahead of me mentally and emotionally. I am not exaggerating when I say that every single one of my high school friends has already bought their first house, while I still struggle to afford my rent AND toilet paper each month. I don't understand it. They're all normal girls - don't get me wrong it's not like I hang out with Paris Hilton Trust Fund Babies - and I know they all have jobs in the same salary range that I do, so how in the world were they able to put away enough money for a down payment? If I went to look for a house, I'd be pouring out my piggy bank pennies on the real estate agent's desk and offering to barter goods like my old couch that's in storage (and also I am 98% sure is covered in mouse poop), a broken hamper and my cat. And I'd be all like, "Take it or leave it, lady, that's my final offer!"

I mean, I guess if you want to get technical, I know why I can't afford anything: because I can't save for shit. I get my paycheck and it's gone the next day. I honestly don't know where it goes. (Well, I know that a lot - if not almost all of it - goes to bills, but besides that)... For instance, last night I got my credit card statement from Target and those are non-itemized. So I'm just staring at this dollar amount, racking my brain trying to figure out what the hell I recently bought there. I never figured it out.

To add insult to injury, my friends who seemingly have their lives together are also now starting to get engaged! I can't help but be half excited/half jealous/half petrified (yes, I know I said three halves, but that's how I feel, get over it!) about the whole situation. I am afraid I will just get completely annihilated at their weddings - in my too expensive bridesmaid's dresses - because I have nothing better to do with my time or my life, and who doesn't love an open bar?!

Now don't get me wrong, I am extremely happy for them - I care about them more than anyone else, but it's like, Jesus what else could I have done wrong in my life? I can't save money, I can't hold down a meaningful relationship, I can't feed myself, and I'm DRINKING THE LEFTOVER SOY SAUCE OUT OF ITS LITTLE CUP.

I need some guidance, like a spiritual guide. If anyone knows of a good life coach around the tri-county area (I'm not willing to travel far because, hello, gas money?!) please do let me know. I think I need to like, rebalance my chakras or something.

Oh, if you know a rich guy who's ready to get married to a poor 24-year-old, I guess you can give me that information, too. Thanks!!

Why do I do this to myself?

Seriously, it never fails. Each year, I pull the same stunt, and each year, I pay the same consequences. When will I learn????

This year's debacle started the same as any other year, which should have been the first red flag. Boyfriend suggested a weekend jaunt to the beach, and I jumped at the idea. I hadn't been to a tanning bed in more than a month (I'm looking at you, Economy...) and I was excited at the prospect of some quality Casey-Sun-Tanning Oil time. Ugh, I should have known better.

We arrive at the beach, and first thing's first: I run to the store to pick up my tanning oil (Yearly mistake #1, which Boyfriend once again cautioned me against) and he got his SPF 4,000. We head to the sand, and I am completely discouraged by the fact that it's slightly chilly and partly cloudy. So I figure I need to over-compensate by slathering on the oil. (Yearly mistake #2)

I once again make fun of BF for his ridiculous sunscreen application and call him a grandma. (Yearly Mistake #3). BF rebuts this by telling me that I won't be laughing when I'm peeling like an onion. I tell him that "I'm Italian. Italians don't burn." (Yearly Mistake #4)

Well, look at me now.



I know it's a little hard to see because of the quality, so I took the liberty of pointing out my forehead that is now a completely different color from the rest of my face and shedding like a Golden Retriever; and my nose, which BF so lovingly pointed out "looks like Rudolf." You're welcome.

Lesson of the day: Italians do burn. This one, in fact, repeatedly burns every single year and spends the rest of the summer looking like a leper. Wear your sunscreen, kids. Even if it's an embarrassing SPF 4,000. Then you can just laugh at morons like me for the rest of your vacation.

I did it!!!

NOTE: I do not, in fact, have orange hair. Brunette to blonde transition + weirdly overcast day + low-budget camera + red face from running an m-effing 5K = Illusion of orange-tinted hair. I apologize.

I did it, I did it! I ran my very first 5K this weekend, and it was... an adventure. That's probably the best way to describe it. Things got off too a good start, aside from the general bitchiness and nausea due to a completely enveloping sense of fear, paranoia, and impending doom. But other than that, the pre-race atmosphere was pretty chill.

The race was held to benefit the Harrisburg Humane Society, where I adopted my little buddy, Harry:


NOTE: Harry does, in fact, have orange hair. This photo is accurate.

I raised an impressive (for me, since I am lazy, cheap and procrastinatory) $345 to benefit the Humane Society, and in total they raised $20,000. [$20,000! I didn't know so many people were as into paying money for self-torture as I am!]

Even though the race got off to a nerve-wracking start, I ran the 3.2 miles, and I finished in a somewhat decent amount of time... 34 minutes. Slow by most people's standards, but I was just happy that when I crossed the finish line, I was not crawling, bloody, and covered in my own pee.

No, I looked normal crossing the finish line, if only a little red in the face and about to throw up all over my camera-wielding boyfriend. And he didn't hesitate to offer his praise of, "Wow, you finished quicker than I thought you would! I was definitely thinking it'd be maybe 45, 50 minutes until you came through!" Thanks, I guess? Apparently my physical ineptitude is a secret to no one, and my own boyfriend was even dubious of my ability to finish a run without committing suicide by jumping into the lake halfway through.

But I finished, and now I'm wondering what's next. I am contemplating attempting the Broad Street Run next June, but that's 10 miles. I'm crazy, but I don't know if I'm that crazy. But this thing called "running" has truly become a formidable competitor, and something that I want to conquer, so I don't know.

Until we meet again, treadmill...