Fixation Friday 4/30/10

Another April has come and gone. Entirely unrelated to this fact is the following list of things I'm crushin' on this week:

1. Cake for breakfast. Did I bake a vegan chocolate cake with raspberry preserves between the layers? You bet your Princess Di Beanie Baby I did. And I've eaten it for breakfast practically every day this week. You would, too; look how cute it is:

2. Heart-shaped things.

I made this CD cover for a mix.

This can't be a novel idea, but I'd like to start a Flickr project taking photos of things that are shaped like hearts, whether the shape is intentional or not, because I see hearts everywhere (a discarded orange peel, the shape of a puddle on the sidewalk).

I know actual, beating hearts inside animals don't look like this; I commend whoever came up with this heart shape, though. Can we all agree that heart is maybe the cutest shape things can come in?

3. Bed Bath & Beyond. I am a danger to myself and others in this store. I could kill an entire week in there just marveling at all the kitchen gadgets I never knew I needed. I went in to buy a birthday present and nothing else. I left with not only the birthday present but also a mandolin slicer, a steamer basket, heart-shaped cookie cutters (I already had some at home), funnels, and a citrus juicer. In addition, I almost left with onion goggles, a bagel-slicing contraption, a new skillet, and a deep fryer.

4. Checking out new places in the city. I need to carry a list of the places I haven't been with me and revise it as I visit them and receive new suggestions. But this weekend for the first time I'll be going to the Make-Out Room and Cafe Du Nord. What should I add to my list?

5. This guy's tattoo:

Although I have to commend your guts, good sir, speaking as a lady, I do NOT love the mustache, ironic or otherwise. I'm running for Intertron domination on an anti-lone-mustache platform.

Who's with me?


Austin Recap

It's been a while since I went to Austin, but I promised a recap, so here you go:

I arrive. AC picks me up at the airport in a rental car. It's raining. We go to a restaurant called Trudy's for some Mexican food and margaritas. We have the world's gayest and most pleasant waiter. Then we go grab a bottle of wine, head to her hot tub, and drink the whole thing while relaxing and catching up.

We hit the mall (I know, I know), but it was pretty fun. We try on a bunch of stuff at Forever 21, and I spend way too much. It's still raining off and on. We go out that night to several bars of which I can't I recall the names. We meet a couple of AC's friends. I had an extensive conversation about opera with someone.


When we get home, AC's upstairs neighbor, Christine, a proud "saber tooth" (like a cougar is over 40, a saber tooth is over 50) treats me to a rose, all of her worldly wisdom, and tales of her batsh*t exploits.

We get up and go to a vegetarian restaurant, where I order barbecue tofu. I'm not feeling well, so it's difficult to enjoy, but I pack it away for later. Then we take off to the country for "Craw Gras," which purports to be a "crawfish olympics and boil." There are no crawdad games, no races, almost nothing for me to eat, but there is beer, horseshoes, cornhole, and loop-de-loop. I met quite a few lovely people (holla!).

I'm terrible at cornholing. AC, however, is the best cornholer I know and totally saved our team.

Later that night, we go to a show (Monahans and Low Lows). It was awesome and hilarious; a tambourine player wearing absurdly tight jeans rocked out so hard that he lost his glasses and ran off the stage before the show was over. Then we went to a diner, where I ate food. Then we crashed.

We went someplace for brunch. I can't remember what it was called, but they had good Bloody Marys. Then we kind of decompressed for a while, went to a coffee place, shopped at Buffalo Exchange and Toy Joy, and came back and hot tubbed again before going to bed a little early to wake up for getting me to the airport.

Art car? More like art star.

Twins separated at birth.

I love visiting with AC. We have such a good time, forming new inside jokes by the minute. We laugh and discuss things we can't talk about with many others. I miss her loads. And I do enjoy Austin very much, despite the crappy weather they've had both times I've been there. If things don't work out here in SF, I'm moving to Austin, and she'll be my sugar mama until I can find a job.



'Tron Tuesday 4/27/10

Hello! Sorry for the lapse last week. My original intent was simply to get some work done and recover from Austin, but then I had that episode, which gave me a real reason not to blog. But if you've been missing my Intertron radar, it's back in full force:

1. Can you find yourself on here? I can't because there's no San Francisco section, but you might be able to see some amusing shots of yourself or your friends at last night's party. Or you could just use it to gawk at silliness you weren't a part of.

2. I love 1000 Awesome Things, but it's not as democratic as one might wish. Enter Most Awesomest Thing Ever, a site where two random things battle and you decide the outcome! When you're sick of playing arbiter of the awesomeness contest, you can view the top contenders; currently, "Internet" is rated as more awesome than "life."
*PROTIP: The sound effects are annoying, so there's an option in the upper right-hand corner to turn it off.

3. What the eff is wrong with the Southwest? First it's the Texas schoolbook massacre; now fresh on the heels of Arizona's law for economic suicide is a bill that would require the president to show his birth certificate if he wants to be on Arizona's ballot for re-election. Um, I'm pretty sure he already did this. Your move, Texas.

4. Do you like to read? Sign up for GoodReads, basically, social networking for bookworms. I haven't joined yet and am not sure I'm going to, but I thought you might enjoy it!

5. I wish I could embed MIA's NSFW new video. It is so, so good.

So do tell me, gentle readers: What's quakin' your earth this week?


The Five Love Languages

In a crisp departure from last night's angry-faced post, I discovered the five languages of love thanks to this Hobby Horse post. I loved it so much that I wanted to share my thoughts/summation of it with you.

At first, I was all, "French, Italian, Spanish, Russian, and Elven, in that order?" DOIN' IT WRONG. Our friend Dr. Gary Chapman says in his book, The 5 Love Languages, that these are the types:

1. Words of Affirmation: These lovers feel that words speak the loudest. Leave them a Post-It on the bathroom mirror wishing them a good day, and it will be a good day. Impress them with your vocabulary, although nothing replaces the simplest words of love: "I love you." But don't insult them or really ever say anything bad about them to their faces, or you'll break their hearts hard.

2. Quality Time: If you're with a quality timer, being present in the moment with your paramour is of utmost importance. Shut down the computer, turn off the Intertron, do whatever you have to do just to be there and listen. Distractions, lateness, and general busy-ness syndrome (not being able to be fully devoted to your presence with another, whether absentmindedly cleaning something or picking at your nails, which is a problem I frequently have) kill the mood.

3. Receiving Gifts: These folks are living in a material world -- if that material is your HEART. Seriously, though, they love receiving even the smallest, crudest tokens of appreciation because it shows that their significant others cared enough to (a) conceive the idea for the gift, (b) seek out or make the gift from scratch, (c) present the gift, whether in wrapping paper or under their pillows, and (d) not forget the gift at home. Heart-shaped boxes of chocolate will not do it for them.

4. Acts of Service: How often do we all want our partners to do something without us having to ask? Whether it's cleaning up cat vomit, folding laundry, or simply moving their wine glasses away from the edge of the table if they're clumsy, having one less duty to worry about is an aphrodisiac for this type. Adding to their responsibilities, though, comprises begging to sleep on the couch.

5. Physical Touch: Hugging, kissing, cuddling, and you-know-whating are all excellent ways to show these amoureux how you feel, as are holding hands, braiding their hair, and wiping some schmutz off their faces. Being around physically is key to a successful relationship. You probably shouldn't punch anyone in the face ever, but especially not this type.

We can probably see a little bit of ourselves in all of these, but luckily there's this handy quiz that tells you what type you are (I'm a Words of Affirmation type -- surprised?). What interests me about this system is that I can see how it could have effectively bridged gaps in my past relationships where nobody seems to be doing much expressly wrong, there's just a disconnect, and the parties don't feel loved like they should. Take the quiz; make your boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/farm animal take the quiz, or just pay attention to how he/she/it tends to behave when in an especially happy, loving, positive mood.

Of course, once you realize you've been screwing it up, make sure to apologize in the right way.

So, let's make love and not war this weekend! Which love language do you speak?

DEAR INTERTRON: A Depressing, Self-Indulgent Open Letter

Hello, please allow me to get vulnerable here with y'all for a minute. I don't desire any comments; this is not fishing for compliments, and one could probably say many of these thoughts and emotions are baseless and irrational, but feel free to empathize if you ever feel the same way. I would like to share my fears with someone, and it's pretty late, so without further ado...


What follows is a rather stream-of-consciousness list of things I've been thinking about when I am feeling down. I hope you're seated in a comfy chair with good music playing and a hot cup of coffee.

Many of my good friends have left town, are soon leaving town, or never were in town. Will I be left with no nearby support network? Who would want to count me in their group of friends anyway? Is the only reason men talk to me because of my looks? Is the only reason some women won't talk to me because of my looks? Will this dynamic change as I grow old and unattractive? If I really do have plenty of time like everyone says, then why do I feel so old already? I am afraid I will never be able to keep up a meaningful relationship of any kind. I feel that people start to dislike me and distrust me as soon as they know me, which likely becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Will I ever be happy with what is, or will I always be looking for the next big thing? Why do I seem unable to do both? I so fear dying. Why can't I be healthy in just one way? If it's not one affliction, it's another; even my own body hates me, and nothing ever seems to make it happy. What if I have nothing to offer anyone? What if I never get what I want? What if I never even figure out what I want? I wonder if my family members cut me out of their lives because they're bitter that I moved so far away or because I got ink in my skin and metal in my face and pink in my hair; I feel ostracized by some of them when I go back. My emotions sometimes control me completely but other times feel false and stunted. I say and do a lot of things I shouldn't because it seems like I should. The world is changing too fast and leaving me behind.

Really, what am I doing wrong?

Thanks for reading, Intertron. I imagine I'll be in a better mood when I see you tomorrow.


The Earth That F*cked Me

It's Earth Day, time to pay extra attention to our care for the planet we call home, but I can't say I'm feeling it this year. Mother Nature has long been out to get me (cf. uterine, intestinal, and skin conditions; bringing inclement weather every place I go), despite my efforts to be green (I am vegan, buy used and organic whenever possible, and don't own a car, for crying out loud). But this week, she went too far.

Tuesday afternoon at Pat's Cafe, I'm having lunch, eating a perfectly delicious meal of roasted vegetable sandwich (eggplant, portabella, zucchini) and garlic-cilantro-lime french fries. Everything is fine. Nothing I ate raised a red flag. But a couple of hours later, I start to feel somewhat queasy. So I decide not to go for a swim and instead hit the bus a little earlier than usual.

The instant I get on the bus, I smell steak, which grosses me out further. A few stops later, someone saturated with the olfactory pleasures of cigars and men's cologne sits next to me. When he gets up twenty minutes later, someone else wearing way too much floral perfume takes the seat next to me. I'm more scent-sensitive than a three-months pregnant woman with morning sickness and hotter than a cat in heat. I get off the bus a stop early, thinking I'd rather barf on the sidewalk than inside the bus on myself and others.

I don't puke, but when I get to my apartment, I open all the windows and flop onto the couch. I alternate between too hot and too cold before WJE3 stops by to say hi. I'm a horrible hostess; the place is a mess because I unwisely decided to put off cleaning it after I returned from Austin, and I can hardly move, talk, or listen. Once I get the dry heaves, I send him on his way.

Heaven knows how long I lie sweating and shaking on the couch before PB (who serendipitously lives two blocks away) sends me a text. I think I respond along the lines of "PLZ HALP," so he brings over some Walgreen's brand stomach-soothing pink liquid. I take some immediately and five minutes later, sweat through my clothes and quite literally lose my lunch as I had been dying to do since about 3 p.m. into the handy red bucket I keep around for such incidents. Every muscle in my body tries to aid me in eliminating the offending fibrous purply-pink stomach contents. I retch until I can retch no more, and then I experience the chills again. Once that's over, I start to think that maybe I'm in the clear. Cue three more cycles of Pepto-fever-vomit-freeze in the next hour and a half or so, and nothing is left in my stomach, so we call my health insurance's 24-hour nurse line. The nice lady asks me what happened and whether I suspect heart attack or stroke and quizzes me on my symptoms. She politely tells me to get to the emergency room or an "urgent care" facility. I babble at her about not knowing what an urgent care facility is, but she gives me a reference number to call back with anyway once I've decided on a course of treatment.

At this point, I honestly think it would be less hassle for everyone if I just die in my apartment than if I try to get to the emergency room, so I just get naked, curl into the fetal position, and sleep fitfully until the next morning.

It feels like the worst hangover ever. Also, my muscles hurt from clenching while throwing up, and my throat hurts from being the exit point. Naturally I don't go into the office; I sleep for about four more hours, wake up, and do some work from home. I eat a piece of toast and drink some orange juice and water, thinking I am on the upswing. An hour or two later, I crap my pants.

Although I am able to shower and get last night's vomit out of my hair, my well-being steadily declines throughout the afternoon. PB is a doll and brings over jello, Gatorade, tea, and saltines. I keep thinking I'm going to have another accident because my intestines are rumbling all night.

Today I have eaten jello, rice, and bean soup, all of which nauseated me and caused my stomach to make more weird noises, but at least I can get out of bed and go out of sight of a toilet. I don't know if I'll ever be back to normal.

Really, Mother Nature? Are you trying to show me what being old is like? Are you asking me to reduce consumption by making me unable to ever eat real food again? Are you punishing me for no reason? Are you punishing me for something I did, like maybe when in third grade I littered that apple core with the sticker still on it or that time in college when I didn't pay extra to recycle or all those times I forgot to bring my reusable grocery bag to the store (I recycle the paper bags, damn it!) or when I used hairspray in an aerosol can? I'M SORRY, OKAY? Earth is a grudge-holding b*tch.

I haven't plotted my revenge against the Earth yet, but it will involve elements of the following:
  • opening the windows with the air conditioner blasting
  • buying a McDonald's Happy Meal and throwing the whole thing out into the woods
  • bringing a six-pack of PBR to a party where everyone is smoking and tossing the plastic rings into the ocean without cutting them first
  • choosing plastic over paper
  • purchasing a Chevy Tahoe
  • leaving the bathroom faucet running all day
  • having fifteen kids

Any more ideas? I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse, Earth.


Sorry for Nothing This Week

So work is a little crazy. I'm sorry. That's when I usually do my posting, but even if I wanted to sit in front of my laptop at home, it is in the shop. I just don't have the time I'd like to put into blogging this week, and I'd rather sit out than be totally half-assed about it. Next week, though, expect an Austin rundown and a pretty gender-specific post in addition to your regularly scheduled programming.

In the meantime, let's get this party started right:


'Tron Tuesday 4/13/10

It's Tuesday, time for that truncation of the Intertron we all (some) know and love (hate): The Quarter-Life Crisis Edition!

It's been apparent for some time to me and probably everyone else I know that I have no idea what I'm doing. I have no concrete life goals, just half-baked-pie-in-the-sky dreams toward which I have taken zero steps. I have no real desires outside the immediate future because I no longer know what I want my life to look like. I have laid no groundwork for the directionless plans I don't have. I am adrift, aimlessly floating in aging hipster uncivilization. This 'Tron Tuesday is an amalgamation of my current feelings and fears, an homage to an existential metacrisis that, in the scheme of the world, has little to no importance:

1. Are you facing a quarter-life crisis? I sure am. This article may help you understand.

2. A website for people like me? Yes, please! Stratejoy is the brainchild of life coach Molly Hoyne and is "chock-full of strategies for real joy to live an authentically happy life on your own terms." Couldn't have said it better myself, sister. The site is free but also offers events and workshops. Now I just need to commit to taking a direction and dig in.

3. TEFL is something I'm considering: basically, teaching English abroad. CM is doing it. It seems to me the most straightforward way to fund travel, and traveling is something I definitely want to do before it's too late -- either I'm saddled with kids and a mortgage or the world ends. Do you know people who have done this or something like it?

4. Christine Hassler is the Huffington Post's own quarter-life crisis coach. I just now discovered her, so I'll be wading through all that later this week.

5. Occurrences such as this really make me wonder what I am doing on this planet:

So! Have you been through a QLC (or, heck, even a MLC)? How did you deal/are you dealing with it? And please don't watch the above video if you're allergic to stupid.


Fixation Friday 4/9/10

End-of-week roundup of five things that are giving me a ladyboner:

1. Hello Kitty Wine. This is a real thing. Peep this red:

How can life get any better? They took arguably my two favorite things and combined them. Two great tastes that taste great together. Plus I saw it on The Colbert Report, and I am a mindless follower. I'll take 200 cases, please.

2. THERE IS A ZIP LINE AT JUSTIN HERMAN PLAZA. Put your shoes on and go, because this thing looks like an adrenaline orgasm. I am going Monday. Would you like to join me?

3. Biking to work. My first time was Wednesday. I am not very adventurous or fast on my sickle, so it was intimidating trying to keep up with all the other bikers, going 30 mph and swerving between cars on Market Street. Getting home, though, was much more uphill. However, biking first thing in the morning put me in a pretty good mood for the rest of the day, and I got more exercise in. I'm going to try to bike to work twice a week from now on.

Also, Google Maps has bicycle directions!

4. Vegan nachos. They're all I want to eat right now. I tried to be good this week with my black bean-quinoa-mango salad, but I have a feeling nachos and I are going to have a whirlwind romance this weekend.

5. This song:

What's blowing your mind this week?


Important Scientific Research or the Most Contrived Pick-Up Scheme Ever?

So ED and I are strolling down Hollywood Boulevard at around 9 p.m. on Saturday. We're enjoying the sights and sounds of the Walk of Fame and being approached by multiple Scientology peddlers ("Anxiety, stress, uncertainty weighing you down?" OMG HOW DID YOU KNOW???). We're stopped by a nondescript guy of average height, weight, and coloring with an unplaceable foreign accent.

"What's your idea of the perfect date?"

ED, being the quick, clever thinker she is, says, "With my husband," thinking that will throw him off the scent.

It doesn't. He has a clipboard and proceeds to ask a barrage of questions to both of us. He wants to know what our perfect dates are, the best and worst ways to get our attention, and which three of a long list of qualities we find most and least important in a potential mate. I intentionally give b*tchy answers, including, "My perfect date is one where a man hands me a million dollars." "Really?" "Of course not really, Dense-a-Tron 3000!" We try to discern whether he's qualified to be doing this kind of psychological research, but he's evasive; he says he's doing research for a website called Affinity Match and "out of personal curiosity." However, he's not overtly hitting on us, so we're confused. After getting through a list of questions that seems too long to expect a person on the street to answer, he informs us that by answering, we have entered a drawing to win a prize, but he needs our email addresses to let us know if we've won. We acquiesce.

Later that night, I receive the following email:


Dear Sarah,

Thank your for doing the survey with me on the street today.

I will let you know later about the prize, but you do get a small souvenir for helping out. How can I send it to you?

Also, this is a bit embarrassing, but I have to practice better handwriting: I see that you said your ideal date was a dinner, or making dinner. What was the second part?

So is smart your last name or your opinion of yourself or both?



Pose Method of Running Level II Coach
Certified Court Interpreter
telephone: XXX-XXX-XXXX


Um, WTH? Sure, I'll send you my address, weirdo. Then you can assault me with more than personal love life questions. P.S. What is the Pose method of running?


Adventures in the City of Angels

I went to Los Angeles this weekend. To prepare myself for my trip, I asked everyone who would listen what I should see:

"I think L.A. is lame."
"You have to drive everywhere. It sucks."
"There's more pollution than life. Ugly urban sprawl."
"Well, I guess Beverly Hills -- Rodeo Drive -- is cool if you want to see the excesses of the rich and famous firsthand."
"Go clubbing, but you probably won't be let in because you're not plastic/blonde/rich enough."

So although I was psyched to visit, I wasn't really sure what to expect from L.A.

I loved it.

ED was a fabulous tour guide and hostess. She picked me up from the airport, and immediately we went to a bar. A bar where they have ridiculous "art" installations and serve cotton candy mojitos.

 Yes, real art.

If this is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Then we went to a place called Swingers, where we split vegan nachos (!!!) and she watched me chow down on a vegan burrito.

The next day, well-rested after the most delightful snooze on ED's sturdy, perfectly inflated air mattress, I got up, and we went to the Fashion District, where I got a whole bunch of cheap jewelry for cheap prices. The mannequins have enormous rear ends -- in fact, some of them are only rear ends. Bacon-wrapped hot dogs are sold on every block. The area is crawling with people. A dog bit ED, and there are wholesale stores and stores in which everything costs $1. It's like the Mission meets Chinatown, for you SFers out there who, like me, can't understand things without comparisons to your own fair city.

A bad place to be claustrophobic, have expensive tastes, and hate children.

Then we went to the fanciest lunch place I've ever been, Bottega Louie. We had pizza and salad and, yes, a whole bottle of wine.

Later that evening, after changing into a dress that apparently shows up sheer in photographs, ED and I went to Hollywood!

My late husband.

Hollywood Boulevard. You can't really get a good look at all the creeps, but they're there.

My other late husband.

We were accosted by some guy perpetrating the most contrived pick-up scheme ever (more on that later) as well as Scientology marketers and Michael Jackson impersonators (no more on that ever).

Then we drove out to Santa Monica (the driving everywhere critique was valid, but ED has a car, so that was kind of a non-issue). We had frou-frou drinks at one bar and then met up with RG at a loud club that had no lines or judgmental bouncers out front but were filled with dancers -- and we joined them. And it was good.

The next morning, ED had to go to a meeting, so RG and I met back up and went to the Huntington Library. It's a library full of super-old books, a museum, and a botanical garden. There was a lot to see! RG used to work there, so he knew all the places to hide and sneak around.

There is smog for sure in L.A., but it's no more annoying than the fog San Francisco gets.

Then the three of us met back up for brunch at Real Food Daily! I had the best vegan pancakes and tempeh bacon in history.

ED bought me a copy of their cookbook as a late birthday present, but it didn't have the pancake recipe. I guess that just means I'll keep experimenting and trying not to burn the house down.

Then it was time for a nap at ED's! And then the Korean spa! Do you know what you do at Korean spas?

You get naked.

Then you chill with all these other naked ladies in the hot tub, the sauna, the steam room, the cold plunge, and whatever other weird rooms or tubs any particular spa might have. This one had a tea bath, an oxygen stone room, and a room with a heated floor. It was so relaxing. You can get actual spa treatments there, too, such as massages, exfoliations, and facials, but those cost extra, and we couldn't get a reasonable time.

We went back to ED's, ate salad, watched TV, and went to bed. ED makes the best salads ever.

The next day, we went to Flore Cafe in Silver Lake for yet another vegan brunch. I was not impressed by my breakfast quesadilla; I could tell they used Daiya vegan cheese, which melts given the proper care and attention, but it was not melted even slightly. Plus this was the only place we went that was full of hipsters.

Then she drove me to the airport, and that's all she wrote. I really did like the city. We didn't get to go to the beach or see any celebrities, but I understand it's definitely beach weather in the summertime. I tried to get together with an old high school friend as well while I was there, but the timing and activities didn't work out. But that's okay; there's always next time. And there will be a next time.


'Tron Tuesday 4/6/10

I'm back from Los Angeles (more on that later) with some stuff to see on the Intertron (more on that now):

1. 101 Things To Do in the Next 1,001 Days! I started my list on Day Zero. You can browse what others have added to their lists, get suggestions, mark off tasks as "in progress" or "done," and even cultivate a "someday" list. What's on my list? Why, learning two languages, ride a train, stop cursing so much, and do a pull-up unassisted! What will you put on yours?

2. Badass of the Week is the most complete catalog of badasses the Intertron has seen to date, including the Kraken, Winston Churchill, Beowulf, the Black Death, and John McClane. Who cares if half of these badasses are fictional?

3. Best prank ever, on a Japanese game show, no less:

4. It might cross your mind to buy me this, but please don't. I will scream.

5. My new favorite blog, Alone... with Cats, takes you inside the hilarious mind of Jessica and her life with her two cats, Teva and Isabel. I can't really explain much more. You just have to read it.

What did you find today?


Fixation Friday 4/2/10

It's late in the day for this post about things I'm into this week, but deal with it.

1. Los Angeles. I'm headed there after work today to visit ED for the weekend (with a few hours with RG, too, probably!). I have never been. Too bad the weather is going to be uncharacteristically chilly, I understand. But it might be cool to feel like I'm one of the beautiful Hollywood people for a weekend.

2. Instrumental music: minimalist, drone, quiet, borecore, whatever you care to call it. Those of you who knew me in my high school and college days may remember that I opposed almost all slow music on the grounds that I found it "boring" (unlike power chords, obvi). Favorites and latest discoveries include Saxon Shore, Pelican, Explosions in the Sky, This Will Destroy You, and Hammock (special thanks to CC for these last two).

3. Matt & Nat. Adorable (expensive!) vegan handbags, and y'all know I be trippin' over handbags lately! I'll take this, this, and this, please. *drool*

4. Natalie Dee Web comics! They are adorable. Case in point:

5. The phrase "hot bowl." It's open for interpretation. What do you think it means? I've gotten a lot of great possible use-it-in-a-sentence things, including:
GP: "Damn girl/boy, you got a hot bowl of ass in them jeans."
PS: "let me drop a hot bowl on your chest"
(Dear friends, I love you. Never grow up.)

So yeah. Tell me what you're groovin' on this week/weekend (which I hope will be awesome for you!).


A Purse-onal Problem

I've had many people say the bag I'm carrying makes me look as though I'm going on a weekend trip. I've ignored Negative Nellies who whine, "How much stuff do you actually need to carry around?"

Long have I championed the large purse. It carries 6.64 times more crap than the average purse! It can take you from home to work to the gym to the club, all while holding your wallet, your keys, your phone, your novel, your Tide pen, your glasses, your bus pass, your sunglasses, your backup glasses, your workout gear, your planner, your checkbook, your umbrella, your handkerchief, and your disco-glitter dancin' shoes! It turns you into a walking Walgreen's! Why, it even cures epilepsy*!

Unfortunately, it also hurts your back, and that's not something I want to deal with simply by popping a few of the Advil I keep in there. This is the mammoth bag I was carrying around everywhere for about a year until only recently, when I noticed some muscle pain in my back that could not be due to anything else (tested):

I'm sorry; it's not you, it's my pansy of a back. 
You'll still hang out in my closet, though, right?

This bag is about the size of my torso turned sideways. So I decided to experiment with a purse most sane people would view as a normal size: approximately a foot long by six inches high and four inches wide. It's very cute (sorry, bought it from the Goodwill and haven't taken a picture yet), to be sure, but after a couple of weeks, I feel confident when I say that it is too small.

It's about the relative size to me as this purse is to this model.

This purse only holds my wallet, my phone, and my keys comfortably. With some serious cramming, I can maybe fit a chapstick, my (flat) bus pass, one (1) pair of glasses, and my Moleskine (which is exactly the length and height of my purse, so that's really pushing it). When I need to blow my nose, I have to go seek out a Kleenex. When I want to kill time on my commute, I must be content with gawking at the strangers around me or pretending to sleep. When I want to bring my lunch to work, I need to carry a separate bag (two bags! inconceivable!). And every time I take something out of it, it's an embarrassing, danger-courting, time-consuming game of Tetris to put everything back in so that the dang thing will close. This purse barely holds what I would put in a clutch for a night out.

This is hard on me. I don't want to seem high-maintenance, but I tried to be like everybody else with their tiny purses and failed. I feel lost if I don't have everything I could possibly need on hand -- because frequently I do need almost everything I kept in my big purse. But I don't feel able to go back to the gargantuan purses of my heyday because of my rapidly aging back. There's got to be a middle ground!

Do you have any suggestions? What's your favorite purse? Your everyday purse? What do you keep in them?

*Idiopathic only.