Category Archives: Random

This weekend…

….you should do whatever makes you happy.

No work. No school. No responsibilities.

Just crack open a beer, relax and enjoy your life.

Or come over to my place. I’ll give you beer and cookies. Whatever kind you want!

You deserve it. Why? Because you’re awesome. Anybody who disagrees will have to answer to my fist. In their face.

Love you friends 🙂

P.S. Happy Easter!

The cuteness is killing me.

(Picture courtesy of an Ellen Degeneres tweet 🙂 )


Music. Of the crappy variety.

Every time my brother comes to visit he asks me if I still listen to crappy music.

Part of me is offended.

The other part has been singing “Who says” by Selena Gomez nonstop for a week.

I don’t know why he gives me such grief over what I choose to listen to. I mean it can’t be because I forced my whole family to listen to NSYNC’s Christmas Album everyday for a month, right?

By the way, that CD is totally missing and I’m completely sure a family member stole it. I need to hire a detective. Or make one of them buy me tickets to the NSYNC reunion concert that I dream about every night.

Seriously? That concert needs to happen, like yesterday.

I miss you...

Anywho, I know I have extremely mainstream tastes. And by that, I obviously mean I have the musical taste of a 13-year old girl who thinks she’s going to marry Justin Bieber.

Minus the marrying Justin Bieber part. I don’t want to marry him. That’s gross.

Sometimes I think my brother has a point, especially when my iPod goes from Celine Dion to Hairspray to Adele to Lil Wayne to Taylor Swift to Adam Lambert to the Jonas Brothers. But then I realize that having the Hannah Montana among Adele, Aerosmith and Mumford and Sons isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Yes, I said Hannah Montana. Not Miley Cyrus. The artist is literally Hannah Montana.

I realize I’ve probably lost 90 percent of my readership after that statement, and I’m okay with this. For the rest of you, just hang tight. I’m going to make this better.

Reasons why Hannah Montana belongs on my iPod:

  1. I’ll always have something in common with my niece. When she’s 12 and in love with the new heartthrob kid, I’ll be the one to take her to the concert because, obviously, I’ll want to go too. I’ll also be 33.
  2. I could chaperone a middle school dance and not want to blow my brains out. At least not because of the music. The kids might drive me to violence though.
  3. I can always find a radio station I’ll like. Mainly because Taylor Swift and/or Lil Wayne is played on all of them. I’m seriously waiting for those two to do a duet. The music world will officially explode, and I just can’t wait.
  4. I can always participate in a Disney sing-a-long. Believe me, this is a very good thing.
  5. When Justin Bieber rules the world (which he will) I know I’ll be safe. He would never hurt his fans. He told me so on Twitter.

I know there are more 24-year olds out there like me, but I understand if they are too embarrassed to speak up. Sometimes I’m embarrassed of myself.

That’s a lie. I’m not embarrassed. Sorry I’m not sorry.

Oh, and to answer my brother’s question: Yes, I still listen to crappy music. Love you too 🙂

Dream big or go home to your crappy apartment

My sophomore year of high school we did Fiddler on the Roof for our musical. During the auditions we had the choice to sing a solo or do the audition with a group. All my friends chose to sing together, but I decided to try a solo. I thought it would help me stand out. I knew I wasn’t a very good singer, but I figured I could at least be guaranteed a chorus part, and get brownie points with the director.

Instead, I was the only one who didn’t get a part.

Eventually I found out that my teacher (the director) didn’t even remember me auditioning. Awesome. Because high school isn’t awkward enough, now I felt even more invisible. I would rather be told that I’m the most vile person on this planet, than not be remembered at all.

I basically fell apart for a few days after that. My poor mom didn’t know what to do. This was reason 385049 why she wanted me to be a doctor. The only rejection there would be from med schools, and that wouldn’t happen for another six years. Plenty of time to prepare.

After that episode, my dreams of being an actress kind of went away. When you handle rejection that badly, you know something is not for you. It’s just not healthy. My mom was pretty happy when I made that decision. Being a typical teenage girl, though, I made sure her happiness didn’t last long. My new dream was to work for Cosmopolitan magazine.

The poor woman just couldn’t win with me. I like to think it was easier for her to support that dream though. At least she didn’t have to hear me talk about who I would be thanking at the Oscars. Instead I talked endlessly about my NYC loft and how I would decorate it.

When I first read The Devil Wears Prada, I honestly thought it had been written about my future life. Creepy.

Eventually I realized journalism wasn’t for me. I love to write, but I like to do it on my terms. None of this “story assignment” business. I write what I want to write, okay?

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had I followed that dream. Would I have landed an internship with a major magazine in college? Maybe even a job after graduation? Would I be writing about the best hairstyles for summer everyday? Would I be writing this from my little New York City apartment?

Who knows. My dream changed when I was in college, and I’m glad it did.

I will admit that sometimes I feel like I gave up. Like I should have kept going with that dream just to see if I could do it. But I know I wouldn’t be as happy as I thought I would be. I mean nobody can say I didn’t try. I was the freaking editor-in-chief of my university newspaper when I realized journalism wasn’t for me.

I think certain jobs require certain personality traits. And I slowly but surely realized I do not share personality traits with Anna Wintour.

I’m not classy and confident. I’m awkward and goofy.

I love fashion. I also really love wearing my polar bear bathrobe for hours on end.

I would love to have fun, dating stories to tell. I also love not having awful, dating stories to tell.

I always forget my sunglasses when I need them. Anna would never forget her sunglasses.

Plus we all know that if I ran a magazine, it would feature Justin Bieber on the cover, recipes for cupcakes, tips on how to get away with wearing jeggings everyday and weekend plans that involve more laundry nights than date nights.

So sue me.

I love my job. It’s literally exactly what I wanted in a first job, and exactly what I worked for. I worked hard to get internships my last year of school and I worked hard at those internships. Luckily for me I truly liked the work I did there. PR fits me, which is good because all those little outfits Anna Wintour wears probably wouldn’t.

Sometimes I feel guilty because I know so many people who are still looking for their perfect job or perfect life, and I feel like I shouldn’t be so happy with my life. I know my friends are happy for me, yet I still feel bad. I’m ridiculous like that.

But then I look up at the crack in my ceiling of the apartment, listen to the sound of the little mouse I’m convinced is living in my wall, and think about how I’m stuck here for another 12 months. Then I stop feeling guilty. I also start to think about how I should probably work on getting furniture, because having a dance studio instead of a living room isn’t really practical.

THEN I remember that all I have in my freezer is two bottles of vodka and frozen strawberries.

My life may not be perfect, but it fits me perfectly.

P.S. My mother got over me not being a doctor. She actually loves what I do now and is instead putting all her efforts into finding me a doctor husband. I can’t imagine this is a surprise to any of you.

Goodbye for now + Read this instead

Alright friends, I’m going to give it to you straight: After today, I honestly don’t know when my next post will come.

In about three hours I’ll be moving to San Antonio. While this is all good and exciting, I won’t have a computer until I’m able to afford one. And I won’t be able to afford one until I get a few paychecks. And my first paycheck won’t come until the middle of April. So we’re looking at a no computer life until early summer.

How will I live? I have no clue.

I start my new super awesome job on Monday, and obviously I’ll be working on a computer there. But I don’t want to assume that I can just do whatever I want, so for at least a week the blog is going to take a back seat. When I get more settled in and comfortable with my schedule, I’ll get back into it. I promise. I have wonderful friends who have already said I can use theirs if I need to.

Sadly, this also means Vitrual Book Club might be pushed back a little. Sorry sorry sorry! I promise it will happen, so still read the book 🙂

Oh and before you start worrying too much, I can get on Facebook and Twitter on my phone. How awful would it be if I couldn’t? *Shudder* I don’t want to even think about it.

Before I leave on my journey (dramatic much?) I just wanted to thank all my readers again. Y’all are so sweet and amazing and the fact that you care about what I have to say means a lot. I really hope my writing gives you at least a little bit of entertainment or light throughout your day 🙂

Oh! And instead of a regular Read this instead (I bet you thought I forgot, huh?) I’m just going to leave you with links to my favorite blogs. The ones that I will be glued to my phone reading for the next couple of weeks. Most of them are food blogs, don’t judge.

Eat Live Run

How Sweet It Is

Shrinking Foodie

Master of Her Romaine


Style Me Kasey

What I Wore


Also check out this article Peter Shankman wrote for Mashable. And then feel bad about yourself because YOU are the reason Rebecca Black is famous.

Ha, just kidding. But he’s right, it’s everybody’s fault. I like to think it’s only half my fault because I haven’t made it through the entire video. I’m afraid my brain will fall out my eyes if I see it through the end.

I think that’s it. If I left any out, I am horribly sorry.

I hope everybody has a wonderful weekend, week (and possibly next weekend too)!

I haven't even left yet, but I already miss him 😦

Bye loves ❤ —(did you hear, ❤ is officially in the dictionary. So wrong, yet so wonderful).



It’s impossible to hate IKEA even if you try

I have never really needed anything from IKEA before. And until one was built 10 minutes from my house, I had never set foot in the store. Prior to this weekend, I had been a whole three times and had walked out with nothing more than tupperware or a coffee mug.

But all that has changed. Oh, how it has changed!

Friends, your little blogger is growing up. I got my first “this is why I went to college” job last week and I start next week!

The job requires a move from Austin to San Antonio. Which requires a new apartment. Which requires furniture, of which I have none.

Hello IKEA!

I really only needed a few things (famous last words?) because we don’t want to have to rent a u-haul. My bed frame fits in my mom’s car and I’m not buying a mattress until I get to SA. I can’t afford a couch and TV right now so those were going to have to wait anyway, BUT I figured I might as well get a coffee table, dresser, etc while I was still in Austin.

The beauty of IKEA is that all the furniture comes in boxes so it will fit in my little bitty car. Love that. Not sure how much I’ll love it when I have to put together all my new stuff, but for now I’m giving thanks to the IKEA Gods.

Ideally I would have liked to go during the week because IKEA is super stressful on the weekends. What with all the people, carts and screaming children. Alas, we went on a Sunday because my dad works all the time and we needed him to lift the heavy stuff.

We decided to leave at 11. So we left at 12:30. Typical.

We stopped at the liquor store right across the street first because my mom decided she wanted to start drinking martinis. Also typical.

Got to the door before realizing it was Sunday and the liquor store was closed. SO TYPICAL.

All of that had nothing to do with my IKEA experience, I just wanted to make sure you guys know how ridiculous my family is.

Back to the furniture. I’m sure all of you have been to IKEA at least once, but if not just picture a huge warehouse with a bunch of kitchens, beds, sofas, chairs, tables and whisks. Now imagine a million people walking around in those kitches, laying in those beds, sitting those sofas and chairs, looking under the tables and grabbing eight whisks because they’re only a dollar and “you can never have too many whisks”

That’s in quotation marks because I actually heard somebody say that as they dumped a bunch of whisks in their cart.

Oh and add about 500 screaming kids. That’s IKEA. On a Sunday.

We walked through the whole store because it seemed like the polite thing to do. Even though I don’t need a new kitchen (even though some of them look amazing) and an actual couch won’t fit in our car (or my budget). Going to IKEA and not looking at everything is like going to Disney World and not seeing Mickey Mouse. You just don’t leave Disney World without at least waving to the guy!

But it’s really the last few rooms that capture my heart. Candles for $1.99! Plates for $.59! 18-piece tupperware for $3.99! Apple slicers for $2.00!

Who cares if I never slice apples?! It’s $2.00!

This was when our cart got filled up. And this was when my dad kept trying to get my mom and I to go towards the check-out area and not back to the candles. Did I mention how cheap the candles were?

I’ve always been lucky in that my former roomies have always been smart enough to remember the little things an apartment needs. Like a utensil holder thingy. Or a paper towel holder. Or a rug. Whatever it was, they already had it before it every occurred to me that we would need it.

But now I’m on my own, and my paper towels aren’t going to hold themselves.

So thank you IKEA, for providing me with the things I didn’t even know I needed. Because of you I might start slicing my apples and whisking things that probably don’t need to be whisked.

Although I should probably work on putting together that coffee table. And the side table, two lamps and dresser I bought too.

This might not end well.

P.S. On our way back home we stopped at another liquor store because my dad was hoping to find the one place that would miraculously be open on a Sunday. I swear we don’t have a problem.

Things Baristas won’t tell you? Actually, we tried but you refuse to listen.

As many of you know, I’ve been working at the cafe inside Barnes and Noble for a couple of months and before that I worked at Starbucks for a few years. I know the life of a barista, and even though I adore Starbucks (and other coffee shops) working there can be rough.

When I ran across this article I knew I just had to share. And by “share” I obviously mean “complain about my experiences.”

13 Things Baristas Won’t Tell You (Read this for the original article. I just pulled the main points for this post and added my own commentary. Of course. )

1. Drinking two quad-shot, 22oz, vanilla lattes every day is bad for you. So is the pumpkin loaf you have for breakfast every morning. Just saying.

2. Sometimes the owners of independent coffee/espresso carts buy cheap coffee and sell it as a respected brand. I know nothing of this, but it’s not surprising.

3. Please believe me. Listen, I get that you think I’m dumb just because I work in a coffee shop. I mean, how are you to know that I am going to college/just graduated? And you! Well you wear a suit, so I can only assume that you have a “real” job and are very smart and know everything and basically trump me in every way possible. So I suppose it makes sense that you would repeat the word “nonfat” eight times while placing your order (hey, those suits gotta fit, right?). And I mean you might as well repeat it again while I’m making the drink, juuuuust in case I decided to pour whole milk because I get the letter “N” confused with “W”. And fine, watch my hands carefully and yell if you think I brushed up against the whip cream because you DO NOT want whip. Of course, I know you don’t want whip because the cup tells me you don’t want whip, but it’s alright if you want to tell me again. HOWEVER, when I look you in the eye and say “here is your grande, nonfat, no whip, mocha” the last thing you should even think of asking me is “is it nonfat?” Seriously, believe me.

4. If you’re not at Starbucks, don’t order like you are. The main reason for this being that Starbucks likes to make up words. A caramel frappuccino did not exist before Howard Schultz allowed it to exist. See also: Vivanno, misto and marble mocha macchiatto.

5. You are the reason for the wait. Yes, you with the cell phone who had 10 minutes to decide what you wanted but were too busy telling your BFF about your new man (who is so sweet) to look at the menu. You and your “do I want a frappuccino or a white mocha?” are the reason for the wait. Oh, you really wanted a vanilla latte? I thought so.

6. Be nice. Not just to us. To everybody. Just be nice all the time. If you never go to coffee shops but happen to be reading this anyway, please take note of this one. I’m tired of rude people. I’m tired of annoying people. I’m tired of people who think they’re better than others. The only people I’m not tired of are the genuinely nice people. The ones who I know are nice to everybody they meet, not just me. Incidentally, these are the people who get free drinks.

7. Just because they’re vegan doesn’t mean our cakes are good for you. Sorry.

8. Yes, I went to school for this. I wouldn’t really call it “school”, but I do know what I’m talking about. And if I don’t, I will still help you to the best of my ability. I promise.

9. There is an art to pulling a perfect shot of espresso. And it takes more than half a second. So stop with the foot tapping already!

10. Tip. It’s nice. I won’t be mad if you don’t, but it’s nice.

11. A bigger cup doesn’t mean more coffee espresso. Hold on to your hats kids, this ones a doozy. A bigger cup really just means more syrup, milk and whip cream. And money. So when you come in all sad and tired because your life is SO hard and the only thing getting you through is the idea of a mocha don’t laugh and say “obviously I need a venti” when I ask you what size you want. Grandes and ventis have the exact same amount of espresso in them. So jokes on you because you could have saved yourself a few cents (and calories) had you gotten the smaller size. Another thing: if you’re really THAT tired you should just order a brewed coffee. It has more caffeine and makes you less annoying to us.

12. Latte art isn’t merely decorative. I know nothing of this. I can barely get all the milk in the cup….I’m far from latte art.

13. A real macchiato has just a stain of milk foam and no sugar. Weird, right? If caramel macchiatos are your drink, try to stay away from the cafes in Italy. They don’t have what you’re looking for.


Kitchen Confessions

1. The kitchen is my happy place. And I know that’s such a cliche thing to say, but let’s face it, I’m kind of a walking cliche. So there. And to be honest, I’m pretty much happy all the time, so the kitchen is really just another place for me to be happy, but “happy place” sounds cuter and less “ugh she’s so damn happy all the time”.

2. Sometimes while I’m cooking I come up with a script in my head of what I would say if I had my own cooking show. And just so you know, in my head I’m totally charasmatic, clever and not the least bit annoying. I also don’t say EVOO or Ri-COAT-ta.

3. For the most part I follow recipes when it comes to baking. At least the measurment parts. I do have a tendency to throw chocolate into everything though. Blame it on my momma, I watched her do it for years and now it just seems natural.


4. With that said, if you ever ask me for a recipe based on a savory dish I will look at you sheepishly and try to avoid the question. Because I made the recipe up. In my head. Even if it’s the 74957 time I’ve made it, I still couldn’t tell you how much of what went in it. Hell, I probably couldn’t tell you all the ingredients in general.

5. If you saw our spice cabinet you’d understand why. I’m more of a “grab and shake” (haha) type of cook, not a “look at bottle, decide if it will go with food, measure out spice and gingerly stir it in.”

6. Remember when I told you I was entering that Food Network Magazine “cook with honey” contest? Well, I HAD to measure everything, write it down, make it again, tweak it, write it down again. Such drama, all of which made me realize I don’t really like honey that much. Whoops. Although, my honey-chipotle hummus was pretty legit.

7. So I guess I could never have my own cooking show, because that would require me to remember all the ingredients and measurements. This would stress me out. And stress is not a cute look for me. And I HAVE to look cute on TV. Duh.

8. I complain about small kitchens because I feel like, as someone who truly enjoys cooking and baking, I have to. But in all honesty, I think small kitchens are charming and I kind of like cooking in them. Especially while I’m single. A big kitchen + nobody to love = Saaaaad. Sure, a big counter is nice when rolling out pie dough, but will a big counter hug you when you’re sad. No! It’ll probably be in your way and cause you to drop a pan of freshly baked cookies. UGH.

9. I’m still a drama queen in the kitchen. Why people let me near gas stoves and sharp knives, I have no idea.

10. I made these scones for my aunt the other day. I watched her eat three, which is more than I’ve ever seen her eat in one sitting. This made me immensely happy.