Tag Archives: Crazy

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 every.single.day, 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.

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.


Shopping Confessions

Happy Monday friends! It’s “Confession Week” over here at Anywho.

What’s that, you ask? Well, every day this week I’ll be posting things about me that people don’t know.

Except, my life is kind of like an open book, so if you know me at all you probably know some of these already.

Either way, it’ll be fun 🙂

Shopping Confessions

1. I prefer shopping alone. You’ll find out why within the next nine statements.

2. When it comes to clothes shopping, I turn slightly psychotic. I start grabbing whatever I want and then walk around the store fighting with myself (in my head, of course. I’m not THAT crazy) because there is a 95 percent chance I don’t need anything of what I picked up.

3. I’m even worse when it comes to shoes. Do I need another pair of black heels? Duh, of course I do. I should probably get them in red too, just in case.

4. I have this rule that if I find something I like, but don’t need, I have to put it back. If I’m still thinking about it days later, than I go back to get it. I end up making a lot of trips to Target due to this silly rule.

5. I’m convinced that the book Gods hate me. Whenever I need a book (like for VBC!) I can never find it, although I do manage to find another book that I’ve been “meaning to read”. And by “meaning to read”, I obviously mean “put on bookshelf for years before I remember it’s there.”

6. You’d think my love of to-do lists would carry over into making grocery shopping lists. But you’d be wrong. This is why I always forget something, and why I’m at HEB at least every other day.

7. Speaking of HEB, I do always walk out of there with at least one of two things: A magazine or new make-up. I have a major problem.

8. This is how I pick out nail polishes:

Guess which one I bought? None of them. Managed to convince myself that $3.79 was too much to spend on “Craving Coral”, and bought People StyleWatch instead.

9. I go to the store too much. This is how I ended up with $1.00 nail polish the day after I had decided to not buy any.

10. Yet, I’m still craving coral. I think I need to go back.

Can’t find a job, Can’t find a date

Has anyone noticed that the process of finding a job is eerily similar to that of finding a date?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?


Let’s do a little comparison action, shall we?

Career: You (read: I) know what you (I)  want. An entry-level position with a public relations/advertising agency. I’ve interned with agencies before so I know I’m a good fit and I thouroughly enjoyed all the work I did with them.

Date: You (okay fine, I) am 100 percent sure I want a tall man. My collection of heels just won’t have it any other way. Okay, I’m kidding (sort of). But, like most people, I have that “list” of traits that I know I want in a date/boyfriend. Please don’t act like you’ve never made a list of traits you want in others. Seriously, get off your high horse. You’ve done it. We all have. It’s human.

Career: When I find a job opening that sounds perfect for me, I obsessively work on my resume to make sure it will stand out from the sea of resumes they receive daily. I may not be a Harvard grad, but I was editor-in-chief of my university newspaper for three semesters, held a full-time job for a lot of my time in college and interned with two PR agencies. Impressive, no?

Date: When I meet a guy who seems like a good fit for me, I (sadly) obsessively analyze everything I do/say to make sure I stand out from the sea of girls that I am SO sure are my competition. I may not be a Victoria’s Secret  model, but I’m nice, funny and can bake a mean batch of cookies. Impressive, no?

Career: I check my e-mail a million times a day. Nothing.

Date: Voicemail, text messages, Tweets, Facebook comments. All nothing.

Career: I try not to think about it. Someday some company will look at me and think “Hey, she’s perfect for us! Hired!” Until then, I can enjoy my post-grad life and do things I probably couldn’t do if I had a full-time job.

Date: I’m pretty sure someday some guy will look at me and thing “Eh, she’s cool. Date!” Until then, I can enjoy all the things I like to do by myself. Like eat an entire bag of gummy bears while forcing my dog to hang out with me.

Career: How soon can I follow-up after sending in my resume?

Date: How many texts is too many?

Career: When I least expect it (read: forgot that I even applied to the job) I hear back. Then I get overly excited and think I’m going to have a panic attack.

Date: When I least expect it (read: when I’ve decided that being the single old lady with 18 dogs won’t be so bad) I hear from man of the moment. Then I get overly excited and think I’m going to have a panic attack.

Career: First interview. Must look professional.

Date: First date. Must look cute.

Career: How much should I talk about myself? Do they need to know about my love for Justin Bieber? (Answer: No)

Date: How much should I talk about myself? Do they need to know about my love for Justin Bieber? (Answer: Not yet)

See what I mean? Exactly the same!

Anybody else facing the same problems as me? Any tips? Need a shoulder to cry on?

P.S. Some details exaggerated for humors sake. For example,  I don’t really suffer from panic attacks when men text me. I do, however, eat a lot of gummy bears.

P. P.S. Really, nobody wants to join my virtual book club? Laaaame.

I need my own driver

The first time I got my drivers license renewed I was 18 (duh) and almost missed a plane to New York.

My parents had been telling me for weeks before my birthday to go renew it and like the annoying teenage girl I was, I refused to listen. Apparently I was too busy planning my marriage to Andy Roddick to realize I needed to get my crap together and listen to them.

So my 18th birthday came and went and I was still driving around with an expired license. I’m a horrible example to children everywhere. Finally, the morning I was suppose to leave for New York City on a Yearbook/Newspaper trip I realized I would need that stupid license to get on the plane.


So while my parents shook their heads at me I went super early in the morning to get it done. It was stupid and I had to haul ass to make it to the airport on time.

Don’t worry, I still made it to New York. My Yearbook advisor would have had my head if I hadn’t. The trip was fantastic.

Anyway, that was back in 2005. I wouldn’t need to renew again until 2011, which I was convinced was never going to happen. I don’t know if I thought we were all going to be flying instead of driving, or if I had a dream that the world would end. All I know is that I honestly never thought I’d have to renew my license again. The idea of 2011 was too far away for my high school brain to understand. Silly, I know.

Spoiler alert: 2011 happened. My birthday is tomorrow. I needed to renew my license today. Ugh.

I got up all early today, did my hair (!) and put makeup on. I didn’t want to look like this guy:


Decided on my trusty ol’ Colossal today because I knew this picture would stay with me for a long time, and I didn’t want to suffer from mascara regret. Nobody should ever suffer from mascara regret.

Obviously, I got totally confused and forgot where the DMV was. Luckily Austin is full of turnarounds for idiots like me, so I made it there. Although it took me like 40 minutes when it should have taken only 15. Siiiiigh.

To make a long story short they wouldn’t let me renew my license because they needed my social security card (which I did not have with me) so I drove all the way home to get it (did not find it), then spent 30 minutes trying to figure out what else I could use. Too bad they wouldn’t take birth certificates and my passport expired in 1998. I’m totally aware of how this is all my fault. I can’t even be mad at the cranky DMV people. Boo.

So then I gave up, and renewed online. Because, you know, the computer can prove my SSN. I don’t understand the world we live in sometimes.

This also means that I will have my 18 year-old self on my license until I’m 30, when I will have to go renew in person.

Except 2017 is NEVER happening, so I really have nothing to worry about.