Thursday, December 16, 2010

Pig Face

Hello! Due to an overwhelming amount of random requests, I have decided to give in and blog again. Several people have asked for me to write an "open letter" to them but I just can't write that many.. so all in good time. (Laura Phillips, you're first in line).

The reason I was on a self imposed exhile from blogging was mainly because my life got pretty boring for awhile. I got to thinking that I am too young to be so predictable- so I decided to spice things up.
One of the first things I did was visit the psychic who lives downstairs. She is back, in all her former glory... and more. She got a new sign, refinished her floors, and basically got a whole new look to her psychic gypsy studio. She wasn't very helpful and in the end I decided that I doubt her abilities as a clairvoyant because all that she told me is that I will be taking a trip soon, and it will be "enlightening." The only trips i have planned are for bachelorette parties, so unless male strippers and an abundance of alcohol is enlightening, that lazy eyed gypsy is a phony.
Another thing i decided was that I need a hobby. I chose running, mainly because its easy and I can have a goal (mini marathon). I also chose this because of the massive amount of weight I have put on as of late. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of seeing me this year, the amount of weight I've managed to gain is actualy alarming. So I figured I would kill two birds with one stone. Now, as a rule I have stayed away from running for an extended period of time due to the size of my chest. It can get painful. However, I decided to pop on an extra sports bra and see how long I can run without stopping. 7 miles later, I was very impressed with myself, but apparently its not meant to be because my big toe nail promptly fell off after this initial test run. Mini Marathon- 1, Lee- 0.
It's gotten very cold in Chicago over the past few weeks, and as a result I am in need of a new winter coat. However, instead of buying one, I have taken to stealing coats from bars. I don't know what it is, but when I get a little boozy, I also get a little klepto. A few weeks ago, I couldn't find my coat at a bar. Instead of chalking it up to another lost coat, I browsed through the available coats and chose a nice North Face fleece for myself. I figured North Face girl would find my (much nicer) coat and be pleased- however the next day, a BIRTHDAY MIRACLE happened. Long story short, a friends friend is the bartender at the bar where I left my coat, she put in a quick call to him, and next thing you know, boom. My coat, back in my possession. So I actually walked away from that situation plus one North Face.  I acquired yet another coat last week from Social 25. This trend is not one that I am ok with and I am going to make a conscious effort to stop my thieving ways. Karma is gonna get me big time for this.

2 closing thoughts- 1. last night I ate at a new place- the Girl and the Goat. We ordered something called "Crispy Pig Face." It was literally pieces of a pigs face.. and it was delicious. Seriously, soooo good. Even Rebecca C. Leonard, my favorite fake vegetarian, loved every crispy bite. 2. With James Cleary following me on Twitter and Pitsy Patsy Cleary monitoring my Gchat status, the only remaining place that I can post my inappropriate thoughts is facebook. So strap in- I think I am going to become one of those pesky status updaters that I hated with the fire of 1000 suns just a few weeks ago.

Monday, September 13, 2010

An Open Letter to Patrick- Part 2.

Dear Patrick,

I still haven't been able to reach you over gchat- you must still have me blocked, but so much has happened that I think it's time that we communicate again. While I did make some progress in that you answered 2 of my calls last week, I think that progress came to a screeching halt after I was unable to ahere to your friendship conditions. I am so glad that you managed to let me know that yesterday you vomited taco bell so strongly and forcefully that the water splashed out of the toilet and into your face and hair. Hearing that cute little anecdote really made me feel like I was right there with you.

Where should I begin?! I think the first thing I want to tell you about is the Big 10 Bar Crawl that I went on with Sister Moley a few weekends ago. It was a lot of fun and I was definitely in college mode, but my fun fell short when I found myself unable to walk home. I lost function of my legs and arms and toppled over 3 blocks from my house and couldnt get up again. I rolled around trying to gather the strength to get up but I just couldnt muster it... and I had my headphones in listening to 'colors of the wind' by pochahantis. Some man on a bike stopped to assist me and basically carry me the 3 blocks home. It was really special. I really think that I proved then and there that no matter what anyone says, jager bombs are NEVER a good idea.

My new apartment is still fine, minus a minor fire and the fact that my landlords wish me dead. That part is mainly Becki's fault though, since she fell asleep in the hallway last weekend for a good 3 hours because they didn't believe her when she tried to tell them that she was actually me. I got a harsh scolding from the landlords, explaining that no matter what happens, I can't use them to let in my friends when I can't be bothered to come home yet. Sorry for partying. In other news, I am almost done with LOST. Jin and Sun just died and I swear I cried harder than when you told me my tatoo was ugly that time at Lairs' lake house. Remember that? I do.

The psychic next door got SHUT DOWN, which proves the point that I was trying to make all along, which is that she is either a prostitute, a drug lord, a prostituting drug lord, or just a crazy woman with eyes that look in 2 different directions. I'm really disappointed though, because I really wanted to get more involved in her little operation and maybe do some kind of an expose. But I guess too little, too late. I think Ashley Manning is the most disappointed, as she was the one who insisted that we knock on the psychics door at 9:30am on a Saturday until she answered. When she finally answered the door all wild eyed and disheveled, it scared us both so much that we didn't even try to find another psychic to see that day.

Not much else has happened- James came into town last week and he and I drank coors lights/blue moons all night long. One of the bartenders kept buying us more and more drinks. Eventually dad made some kind of a rude comment and alas, the free drinks stopped there. When I told him that you had been spreading rumors that I was dead, he laughed. I was a little hurt by this- especially when I told him that you had told people I was facebooking from the beyond- specifically, purgatory. All he said was "Well at least he doesn't think you're in hell." Not a very fatherly response, but I guess it's safe to say that you won James over long ago. So thats about it for me. See you Thursday? Perhaps we can even rent Ponyo?

Your friend,


Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Cockroach Wishes and Serial Killer Dreams

When I first got to Chicago, I decided to sublease an apartment from a possibly gay man. I hoped that his sexuality meant that the apartment had been kept clean, and that since he was potentially gay, he maybe was afraid of things like bugs and murderers, and therefore wouldn’t have lived in an apartment that was under siege by both of these things. Apparently that’s what I get for stereotyping, for that was obviously NOT the case. Someone came a knockin' on my sliding glass door within a few nights of sleeping there. I don't think a killer would knock, but I wasn't about to answer to find out. Then came the real trouble. I first noticed 8 dead cockroaches under the sink on my third day. I almost threw up, but swept them away and told myself they had obviously been dead for awhile. It wasn’t until I saw the live one go sauntering by Jixy Meow (and instead of attacking it, he watched it go by as if they were old friends), when I realized that I might have a real problem on my hands. 5 more live roaches and about 10 more dead ones confirmed my fears. I immediately packed up my stuff and got the hell out.

Well actually that’s not entirely true. I didn’t pack it, I hired some “movers” to pack it. Mind you, these were people that I found on Craigslist, so they weren’t legitimate movers, per se. That was mostly unfortunate because that meant that I couldn’t make them pay for my coffee table that they shattered, or my couch that they destroyed whilst trying to shove it out of the doorway. The couch situation made me sad because when they showed up they were quite cheerful, filled with hope based off my promise that it would be a “quick, easy move.” After they had to remove the door to get the couch out of the roach motel, (and then couldn’t get the door back on), their attitudes deteriorated quickly and soon they were staring at me as if they wanted me dead. Luckily I had my friend Brooke with me as a witness if they tried to feed me to the roaches.

Although my landlord wasn’t thrilled that I moved out without paying rent or any notice at all, I can happily say that is all behind me. I can also happily report that I no longer have to down a bottle of wine before I go to bed, which makes me feel a little bit better about myself. I haven't been over an hour late to work since the move, so I think my boss is also pretty happy with the change.

My favorite thing about my NEW building is that there is a psychic next door, and she plays loud enchanting music all day long trying to lure in customers. I secretly think she is running some kind of a brothel because there are always creepy men going in and then coming out a short time later looking dreamy and relaxed. Maybe she just gave them a really promising reading, but I can’t be sure. I’ll have to book an appointment with her and see what happens. (This could also be an opportunity to test out my rape plan if things start to go south and she tries to sell me as a sex slave).

Last weekend I was not in the city, as my dear friend Pat Cline got married. It was a lot of fun, and people were being ‘Iced’ left and right, although on the way home I had to battle nausea the entire way. I eventually lost and vomited in my Crock Pot (it was all that I had) so now that thing is pretty much useless.

So that’s the latest- the good, the bad, and the disgusting.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

An Open Letter to Patrick

As some of you may know, I recently made a move to Chicago. A long story short, I took a job here and went on my merry way. Patrick Logan Russell did NOT take this well, and he has been rude and callous ever since. He just told me that I can no longer contact him directly to update him on my life- aka no calls, texts, gchats, facebook messages, or pages- so I am going to update him via this open letter.

Dear Patrick,

Good morning. I guess in Indy it is afternoon now. I hope your new job is going well.
I just wanted to give you a brief but thorough update on my life since I have been in Chicago. It's really been a whirlwind.
I arrived Sunday around 6pm. The guy whose apartment I am subletting is "not gay," but he is a hairdresser who wears skinny jeans, and his girlfriend barely speaks english (she is from Hong Kong), so who knows. Anyway, when I arrived they were nice enough to help me unload my packed jeep. When the girl saw Jixy Meow, she pointed, smiled ear to ear, and said "Garfield!" But she had an asian accent, so it was more like "gaaahfeeldd!"
Once they had left me, I got to unpacking. Once I was unpacked, I got scared that I would soon be raped and pillaged so I drank a whole bottle of wine so as to ease my fears, and then I passed out. So that's Sunday.
Monday morning, I got up bright and early for work. I arrived to a warm welcome- even the guy up in the mailroom (whose name in Ponce by the by) sent me a welcome back email. I have been in training and am sad to report that nothing too exciting has happened since I've been here.
Actually that's a lie. We went to lunch on my first day and I immediately decided who I like and hate. The lunch took awhile (12 noon and the most crowded restaurant on michigan ave), but some of my lunch mates decided that this was unacceptable and threw some kind of a hissy fit. One guy nearly cried and another went wild over the fact that he didn't get a roll with his salad. "He needed some carbs," he lamented, although he ordered his chicken grilled and asked for no croutons so I thought that it was his own damn fault.
Also my friend Dave drunkenly shaved his head so that was fun.
Monday night I slept without the aid of wine, although I can't say the same for Tuesday. Wednesday I had date night with my two sweet potatoes, Becki and Tara. We went to a mexican restaurant where I ordered a cheese burger, and then Becki and I drank blue berry vodka for quite some time. After that, we went to my house to sleep like two crack whores on a foam mattress and we turned on my all time favorite movie (besides That Thing You Do! and 500 Days of Summer) - FEVER PITCH. I decided we needed more wine so we killed the bottle I had open and then I put a bottle in the freezer and promptly passed out. I discovered it this morning- total bummer.
Becki, in her usual life ruining manner, allowed me to sleep until approx 7:53 (I have to be here at 8) so i woke in a panic, brushed my teeth, packed some grapes, and flew out the door in a very low cut sundress and a torn sweater, with my makeup from yesterday morning and my greasy hair in a pony tail. So not much has changed in my work life. I forgot my wallet though, so now I am going to go home to get it, because I need a greasy sandwich from the corner bakery. So that is all thats going on with me. Whats new with you?

Your friend,

Monday, May 17, 2010

Double THIS/Superbowl Bummer

Well it happened. I FINALLY ate a KFC Double Down Sandwich. I have been dreaming about enjoying one since the day they started Pre-Advertising back in January for it to be released on April 12. I generally remove some, if not all of the bread from sandwiches anyway, not because of the carbs but because I just love the meaty portion so much that it's all I want to taste. As you can imagine, this "sandwich" was truly a dream come true.
For those of you who aren't familiar, the Double Down is basically a sandwich, sans bread. 2 big juicy chicken breasts (grilled or fried), sandwiched around some bacon and some kind of delicious sauce that was the perfect combo of tangy and sweet. This sandwich has been called a lot of things- disgusting, a heart attack waiting to happen, the reason so many kids are obese, etc- all the usual cliche things. So, I did a little research. And here is what I discovered.

I ordered the Original Double down sandwich (original = fried), and I got a side of potato wedges. The sandwich itself is 540 calories, and the fries are 260. Ouch. However, had I gone to McDonalds and gotten a Big Mac and Fries, I would have been consuming - wait for it.. 540 calories in the sandwich, and 220 calories in the Fries. Here is the difference- while I would have NO problem eating an entire big mac and fries, I was literally forcing down this double down- it was delicious, but so filling that I only made it through half of it. Not to mention the fries which are still sitting in my fridge. I hope my point is proven.

On a lighter note, I was just informed that the world may end on December 21, 2012 when all the planets align and it causes mass chaos. I googled it and someone compared the chaos on earch and the poles tearing apart to "the earth being cleaved like a cabbage head." Interesting. Just my luck that the world would end 2 months before Indiana gets to host the damn Superbowl. FML.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

The Funemployment Blues

I am not what you would call a "worrier." I take life as it comes, and allow myself to let things that worry most people remain a small red flag locked away somewhere in the back of my mind. I sometimes worry that I compartementalize my concerns and at some point they will all come flying to the forefront and I will have some kind of a breakdown A-La Britney Spears. Until that day comes though, I don't mind my worry-free, "it will all work out" attitude. It suits me.
Thats why it came as such a shock to me that my entire department at Eli Lilly just got laid off. True, everyone else was freaking out as we went into the impromptu meeting with our out of town boss, and yes most people had been discussing how the economic climate was brewing the perfect storm for us to be eliminated, but those thoughts didn't really cross my mind. It's not like I am Polly Positivity all the time by ANY means (more like Dramatic Daria- the phrase "why does everything always happen to meeeeee" comes out of my mouth far too often), but I just feel like if something bad is going to happen in the near future and the wheels are already in motion, its best to just buckle up, not slam on the breaks and cause a major collision. Who knows.
So here I am, laid off for the second time in 12 months, (why does everything always happen to meeeee), and the thing is, despite this nagging feeling that I won't be working soon, I still feel like I am not freaking out like everyone else around here. I mean it is ALL ANYONE TALKS ABOUT. Yesterday at lunch I had reached my limit and kindly asked a coworker to "shut up and chill." That didn't settle very well with her. Not my problem that she doesn't have the worry protection that my brain provides. But I think that the difference is that I can see the big picture. Not to get philisophical or anything, but getting laid off at 25 years old is not the worst thing that will ever happen. I mean most of my coworkers are my age, childless, and single. AND renters! Nobody even owns a home. Not to mention that they all have family in the immediate area that they could move in with, worst case. I just don't understand it.
I'm sure I'll figure it all out. Until then, I'll just hop back onto funemployment and watch ABC Family on my couch with a build your own six pack by my side- not the worst way to spend a day.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

nightmare in blogosphere

Well... I have had a blog for just over a month now, and I have made 1 post and shared it with about 3 people. The truth is, I've pretty much lost interest already. I thought that blogging my thoughts to the world would be an exciting opportunity to share my ideas and my hopes and aspirations, but it turns out that I don't have very many of those things. So I tried to back off and not overthink it, and I immediately came up with several things that I personally find hilarious. However, there is a pretty good chance none of these will ever be published- as I said before, I recently decided that I hate blogging about myself. I need a greater purpose- a topic or specific goal in mind. However, I thought that I would pop out a quick outline just in case the day comes where I change my mind:

1. The time Patrick ate what he THOUGHT was a walnut but was actually a piece of kitty litter that kitty Jack flipped onto his lap from his little paw
2. The merits of Vodka vs Whiskey and why they affect people (me) so differently
3. My car towing incident of St. Pattys Day 2010 (If you're going to tow my car you'll have to take me with it)
4. Some possible explanations as to why Wildy gets so much more drunk than everyone I know
5. Why I think that some babies are overrated
6. A full description of the "Team Building Activity" that we had to do at work that took place at Climb Time(calamity ensued)
7. An outline of the sick, innappropriate, and overall horrifying conversation that I had with Kacie, Molly, and Molly in a recent car ride from Chicago
8. A brief overview of why "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" is the best show on television, and people that think otherwise are wrong and apparently worthless
9. How Chelsea Handler and myself share the same policy on rapes, and why I think it truly will work if I ever do get the opportunity to test my theory
10. An extremely detailed explanation of facebook etiquette. (cant spell that word); more specifically, why 99% of people on facebook are misusing the status update feature as well as the mobile uploads. This will be a "how to" for those losers who are on vacation in Budapest but still manage to facebook "good morning" to the entire world and then upload a picture of their shoe or something.

So thats it- full entry to my innermost thoughts and feelings, laid out in a numbered list. We'll see if in a month or two, I am bored enough to put these into a real live post.. but until then, the 3 people in the world who read this blog will just have to wait.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

body fat.

As a part of my new years resolution (tone up my dough-y arms), I have been lifting arm weights twice a week since January. I have never really been a weight lifter, and I am always very intimidated and also a little mad at the people who seem to know what the hell they are doing in that scary area of the gym that I go out of my way to avoid. As I was going through my new arm toning routine (aimlessly wandering the weight-lifting area), Dan the Trainer approached me and asked me, in the nicest way possible, just exactly what I thought I was doing. After stumbling through an explanation of my "logic," he promptly signed me up for a free training session where he would teach me how to actually work out my arms, not just pick up a few random weights and call it a day.

Well. After Dan the Trainer decided to humiliate me by weighing me and then taking my body fat percentage, he sat me down for a firm lecture on the rights and wrongs of working out. Apparently cardio is not all that effective if you're not lifting weights as well. Apparently boys are on to something when they lift "muscle groups"- they aren't just too lazy to do it all in one day. Apparently eating french fries really can cause weight gain, and it turns out that muscle DOES burn fat. Worst of all, boozing it up 5 nights a week does NOT help my "fatty area covering my abs." I was floored. My head was spinning with all this new information. He had me at "fatty area." He talked me into signing up for personal training for an entire year. I sold my soul to the devil, and there is no going back now because he has my credit card number.

My only issue is that now that the opportunity to tone up and really learn how to workout has presented itself, I'm not sure that I'm up for it. I always trash talk celebrities like Jennifer Aniston, or those foolish real housewives, because they have trainers and all the time in the world to work out.. but now so do I- and damn it, I don't want to ! What is so wrong with showing up for a half-assed work out, and rehydrating with a nice cold blue moon? Or better yet, the delicious low carb option of whiskey and diet? Who cares if 30 minutes on the treadmill is what Dan the Trainer called a "poor excuse for a work out?" It makes me feel better and my legs sure don't feel like hell the next day, like mine did after his ridiculous display of lunging and medicine balling. So we'll see how it goes. I have made the conscious decision that I am going into this next 12 months with a chip on my shoulder, and I have already told Dan that if he thinks I'm giving up late night Q-Doba, he has lost his ever loving mind.