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).



Dear Charlie Sheen,

Here’s the thing, I never really liked you. Yet, I never really disliked you. You’re like Hilary Duff to me. I know you’re there, but I don’t really care what you do. I will admit that I watched your show from time to time and I’m like the only person in the world that has no problem admitting it’s a funny show. Did that bother you? How it was the number one show in the country, yet NOBODY would admit to watching it? That’s got to be rough, being everybody’s guilty pleasure. That puts you on par with Fabio and those cheesy romance novels he modeled for. Ouch. Although you were paid like a million dollars per episode, so I guess you probably don’t care. Maybe it bothered Jon Cryer. But then again, Jon Cryer is probably bothered by a lot these days.

And what’s with the tiger blood? If you’re going to start bringing tigers into this, could you at least be useful and answer that age old question for us? We really need to know, what DO tigers dream of? Nobody really questioned it before, but then The Hangover put it in our heads and we’re still thinking about it. I guess I could write a letter to Bradley Cooper and see if they would answer it in the sequel, but he makes me nervous. Have you seen how sexy he is? Like, damn. But since you seem to have made tigers cool again, I feel like you could answer the question for us. Cooper is probably too busy being sexy to give me a straight answer anyway.

Personally I would have been okay if you had stuck to being “normal crazy”. Like Britney Spears or Keifer Sutherland. They did messed up things, people talked about them and then they stopped. But you! You’ve taken crazy to a new level, and I don’t quite appreciate it. Why? Well because you’ve caused me to start disliking my own friends.  I can refrain from watching interviews with you. I have no desire to follow you on Twitter. And I’d rather be eaten by bears than apply to be your intern. But some of my friends can’t get enough of you! This concerns me because I’m afraid I’m going to punch the next person who says “Winning!” I mean, have you seen my news feed lately? I swear every other status has the word “winning” in it. I suppose I could un-friend some of them (especially that girl who I think I went to middle school with, but have no recollection of) but I don’t want to have to do that. Why make me the bad guy, when it’s obviously your fault?!

This is NOT okay.

I read an article about how your family still supports you. Do you realize how lucky you are? If I went even half as crazy as you, my parents would change their names and move to the North Pole.

I guess what I’m really asking is for you to tone down the crazy. Stop saying quotable things that will litter my Facebook and Twitter feeds. Stop hiring people to manage your crazy. And most importantly, stop me from hurting someone I may or may not have gone to middle school with.

Also, get rid of that fedora. It’s not a good look for you.

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.


Read this instead

I had another confession post for y’all that was suppose to go up yesterday while I was driving around looking for apartments, BUT looks like wordpress didn’t approve of it and now I can’t even find the post. Oh well, if I remember all my clever comments I’ll write it again. I do remember there was a lot of Beiber talk in there…

In the mean time, it’s time for Read this instead!

Jenna (Eat Live Run) made homemade s’more pop-tarts. I’ll allow that to sink in with you for a second.

Jessica (How Sweet It Is) became my new favorite person when she posted a recipe for single (or double) serving cupcakes. PERFECT for a girl like me who can’t be trusted around a whole plate of cupcakes.

Christine (Christine’s Apron Adventures) made the most beautiful cake for St. Patricks Day. Check out the next post to see the inside…AMAZING.

Peter Shankman (P.S.) wrote a really great post regarding social media and how much information one can find out about you. This guy is one of my PR heroes and I obsessively read every word he writes.

Sonia (Master of Her Romaine) is starting a virtual blogger bake sale to help efforts in Japan. Won’t you join us?

Jennifer (Spend Less, Shop More) is letting people know about how Forever 21 is helping out in Japan. Shop away my friends!

And now for a couple of non-blog articles:

A Changed Starbucks. A Changed CEO-As much as I complain about the company (working there will do that to a person), I actually truly like Starbucks and I want them to continue doing well. Luckily, Howard Schultz is figuring out how to make this happen.

Championships, not records, matter most to Gibson-Ugh, so sweet. I’ll always be an Ohio State fan, but when they play UTSA I’ll be bleeding orange and blue.



Have a great weekend!



Single Girl Confessions

1. I really do think every Taylor Swift song was written about me. Even the ones that don’t actually pertain to my life. Those were still written about me.

2. I hate when girls are all like “Man, I’m totally like Carrie (from SATC)! My life is just like hers!” One, she’s a fictional character. Two, she’s CRAZY (watching seasons one and two if you need a crazy-Carrie refresher). Three, she would never have been able to afford all those shoes, clothes and brunches and her apartment on a “writers” salary. Four, I totally wish I was her.

I literally only drink cosmos because Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte did. No joke.

3. I don’t drink because I’m single. I drink because drinks are delicious. Just thought I should clear that up.

4. Whenever people find out that I’ve never had a serious boyfriend, or a real relationship they act all surprised first and then say something along the lines of “Well you’re lucky. Relationships are ridiculous, I kind of wish I had held off until I was ready blah blah blah.” Let’s be honest, you guys are all glad you’re in the “loved and lost” group and not my “not loved and lost in a bag of gummy bears and Meg Ryan rom-com marathon” group.

5. On that note, I don’t watch You’ve Got Mail every week because I’m single. I watch it because it truly is the greatest movie ever made. I will always stand by that decision, even if others say it was the worst piece of crap they’ve ever seen. If I could hold my own Academy Awards, Tom Hanks would win EVERYTHING.

6. The above statement might be a reason why I’m single. I’m okay with this.

7. The only time I don’t like being single is when I go to my aunt’s house for lunch and she mentions that her friend’s son “happens to be in town” so she “just invited him over for lunch” and then afterwards I call my mom and she asks me “so did you meet anybody new and interesting today” and I realize she was totally in on it, even though she was on a DIFFERENT CONTINENT.

8. Another time I don’t like being single is when I’m baking. Baking for your friends just isn’t the same as baking for a “special friend.”

9. I just used the term “special friend.” Another reason why I’m single?

10. The other times (when I’m not secretly being set-up by my sneaky ninja mom and aunt or baking) I like being single. I really do! I know you all think I’m lying, and obviously I won’t stay single forever because “I like being single”, but my life is pretty good and I’d feel like such a tool if I went around complaining because I didn’t have a boy to bake cookies for, you know?

Bonus Confession: I (not so) secretly wish someone would hit on me at the grocery store just so I could have a story to tell about being hit on at the grocery store. I’m terrible. But seriously, where do the boys hang out at the store?