31 August 2011

They're called "foundation garments" for a reason.

I was planning on writing this post when I got home from sushi with KayGee tonight, so it was perfect that we started talking about how, now that we're thirty-somethings, we make decisions about footwear and such things based more on comfort than fashion.

We were talking about it because I opted for the more sensible shoes I bought to wear to The Boy I Currently Like's Better-Looking Friend's wedding this past weekend. I somehow managed to keep them on until we left the wedding and got back to the hotel (but before we went to see AVV's sweet new crib). It was painful -- I honestly thought I might not make it back to the hotel, but The Boy I Currently Like kept encouraging me, and we made it. The thing is, if I'd gone for the shoes I really liked -- the sexy peep toes with the embellishment -- I might not have even made the two-three block walk to the wedding. I still think the shoes I wore were cute enough. And I will wear them again.

Also while I was in Madison this weekend, I lamented to The Boy a number of times about the fact that my new bra failed to arrive before we left, and I was left to wear my old bras while we were out and about.

See, when we went on Girls' Weekend a month ago, Urbanwanderlust was singing the praises of her new bra. I decided to see if it was all she claimed it was, so I ordered a Le Mystere Dream Tisha Bra shortly thereafter. Normally, I'm dubious of anything Oprah endorses. However, she recommended the only sport bra I will ever wear again, so I kinda trust her when it comes to matters of a mammary nature.

I ordered two because I was unsure about the size and also because it was buy-one-get-one-half-off. These bras aren't cheap -- $69 is a lot of money. The sport bra went up to $65, but I wear that thing several days a week. A few bucks more for a bra I will wear for most of the day and on most days ... I could justify it.

Because I'm some sort of idiot, I got the idea in my head that this bra would change my life. It's just a fucking bra, for Christ's sake. Still, when it arrived and I tried it on, I was underwhelmed. There would be no life change. I honestly wasn't sure which one fit or whether I'd keep either.

Something made me opt to wear it the following day, though (in my normal size). I'm so glad I did. I really do love this bra. It lifts and separates (a change for me, as I'm more of a cleavage girl) and I swear I feel the need to sit up a little straighter. I think my tops fit ... well? I like the way things look with the bra. There's no drooping or need to adjust while I'm sitting in my chair. That was one of the things I was complaining about in Madison. The Le Mystere has spoiled me. But it's not sexy. It comes in three colors (actually only two in my size). So you know it's a good bra. That is how you know it is a foundation garment.

So yeah, I'm a grown up and shit. I enjoy wearing ugly bras (there will still be a need for uncomfortable, cleavagey, sexy bras ... just much less of a need). Not everything about being an adult is terrible (though, spending the money kinda sucks).

29 August 2011

Wedding weekend.

I just realized as I sat down to think of a title for this post that when I got home yesterday from Madison, I didn't want desperately to be home. Any time I go anywhere -- Girls' Weekend, the farm, other family shit -- I am always really glad to be home. I'm usually quite anxious to get home. But not yesterday. In fact, I found it an enormous pain in the ass that I had to get home by 5:00 for my fantasy football draft (which started an hour late because I'm in a league with a bunch of fucksticks).

The trip to Madison for The Boy I Currently Like's Better-Looking Friend's wedding was absolutely delightful. The family and friends dinner was fun on Thursday. The wedding was great. The ceremony was brief, informal, silly and sweet. I had a glass of sangria in my hand while I looked on from a doorway. THEY HAD A HOT DOG BAR, you guys. I ate a hot dog (one dog, cut in half, so it was totally a fancy appetizer) at the reception. AWESOME. Booze was plentiful, the band was good, there was a photo booth, fortune teller and some room that had something or other in it, but I never got there. The BBQ on Saturday was chill, with more food, more booze and more delightful people.

I'm once again kind of floored by what an amazing group of friends The Boy I Currently Like has. I think it's amazing enough that I managed to amass a group of kickass friends I love the shit out of for myself, but to be welcomed by his group of incredible friends seems a bit decadent. I'm glad I got a bit more time to spend with them this weekend. I knew I liked them and I knew they were great people, but this weekend I got to see more of it than ever before. I'm just really thankful that they seem to think I'm okay.

Oh, and The Boy. After three days-plus together, we weren't sick of each other. I was so stressed out about work and getting ready for the trip and what I'd wear and shoes that I pretty much forgot to worry about whether we'd get along spending all that time together. I had been earlier, of course. He was concerned. But it was fine. I was sad to leave him yesterday, in fact.

Really, I couldn't ask for much more out of a weekend.

25 August 2011

They have to learn some time.

Last night I went to the Aveda Institute to get a manicure and pedicure. It wasn't terrible, but honestly, I could have done the manicure part better myself. In fact, I'd deem it shitty and wouldn't pay for something like this ever again, now that I've looked again at my nails.

Thankfully, they sent me home with the polish they used (a sparkly red the manicurist deemed "sassy'), so I can fix them up tomorrow before the wedding.

To make matters worse, I totally over-tipped, because those girls were hovering while I paid. I hate when I do that. But I suppose there are worse things than giving an extra five or six bucks (total). After work yesterday, I felt like I'd crammed a full week of work into three days, and math wasn't what I needed to be doing.

I think I'll be sticking to just massages at the institute from now on. Oh well.

Now, I'm just waiting on the mailman to get here with my sweet new bra. I didn't think it would make it today. Of course, the mailman would normally have been here by now if I wasn't waiting for something. Curse you, cosmos!


23 August 2011

Oh, hello there. I remember you.

I feel as if it has been weeks since I last blogged. A quick check shows it has only been six days. My life often feels like I've entered some sort of time warp, so I'm not terribly surprised.

Oh, I meant to blog many of the last six days. I swear I did. I had all of these ideas. Of course, I don't remember any of them now.

There must have been one about shopping. I ordered a dress to wear to The Boy I Currently Like's Better-Looking Friend's wedding later this week. My first foray into a dress for the wedding was a failure. The second attempt? SUCCESS. Just a little black dress (but not really that little). It's got a retro feel. Seems comfy.

But then I needed shoes (also Spanx). I spent nearly 90 minutes at the Mall of America, shopping for shoes and other things on Sunday. It exhausted me. I came home with two pairs of shoes, and I don't know how much either pair will work. I have a problem with closed-back shoes, because I have weirdly narrow ankles. So dress shoes, especially, tend to slip off my ankles as I walk. It's lame and annoying. At least one of these pairs of shoes does that. I'm trying to break them in at work while also determining which insert option best helps to keep my heels in place. I've not found success and I'm running out of time. I guess I always have my red sequined flats that I wore at my brother's wedding as a back-up.

So there is the shopping. I meant to get my wee suitcase out tonight to start packing, but I just finished working 20 minutes ago, so that's not happening.

Oh yes, work. It is making me crazy. A short week makes for a horrible week. Chicken Little is losing his shit, as usual. Yes, I'm also worried about how much time I have to spend on this project due tomorrow, but you're the one who made me take on three hours of rush work today. Ass. I figure it's payback for me delighting in the New Guy getting a 20-minute earful from Chicken Little.

I'm not entirely sure what it is all about, but I think it has something to do with his time. He's new, so things take longer. I really feel like he took way too long in the thing he was doing for me (another reason I'm short on time for the project due tomorrow). The whole thing about having an informal training schedule is that it can go out the window very quickly. And that is apparently what has happened. We were supposed to have weekly Friday meetings to review with our boss, but of course, he was gone this past Friday and didn't tell us he would be out. I'll be out this Friday, so there that goes.

Chicken Little seems to have just fucking taken over. That's exactly what we didn't want to happen, as was my understanding. But whatever. I don't fucking care. I'd rather someone else work with him, because I don't want to.

You know, when I started this post, I kinda felt like I had a theme or rough outline in my head. However, I've just been typing and probably saying nothing. My brain is fried after 11 hours of work or so. At least tomorrow is my Friday. Based on the last several Fridays, I will assume it's going to suck big, hairy donkey balls.

17 August 2011

I can't be the only one, can I?

Let me preface this by saying that sure, maybe my college roommate was on to something when she diagnosed me as paranoid. She diagnosed me and plenty of other people with a number of things, but the paranoia is what we're talking about here.

Whenever I'm walking down the street ... or doing anything at the gym or I'm getting groceries or at Target or doing pretty much anything, if anyone gives me so much more than just a passing glance, I'm convince they're staring.

Why would they be staring? I've got toilet paper stuck to my shoe. Or my skirt is tucked into my underpants (underpants ... ha!). Or I've got a huge stain on my clothes. Or I'm showing too much cleavage and they think I'm a whore (that may have happened for real once). Or, if all else fails, I'm fucking hideous and they just. can't. look. away.

The only time I'm not super self-conscious when someone is looking at me is when I'm convinced the dude doing the looking is checking me out. When that is blatant, it's, well ... blatant.

It's hard being this crazy, y'all.

15 August 2011

Numbers game.

Zero (0): Number of cavities I had after too many years away from the dentist.

599 and 600: Home runs Jim Thome hit tonight against the Tigers.

686: pages I have read in A Storm of Swords, the third book in the series A Song of Fire and Ice, by George R.R. Martin.

4: Work days left for me to struggle through before I have a short week.

14 August 2011

Post-party reading orgy.

Once again, I have a party that ends with one friend and the strangers they brought to my house overstaying their welcome. How the fuck do I attract these people?

The Pizza Luce block party was delightful. It was a gorgeous day, the bands were great and I got to hang out with KayGee and The Prison Librarian. The day also featured a visit from W and her doggies. But the day ended with Macho Man and three friends I'd barely met sitting on my couch kinda ignoring me when I desperately wanted to clean up a little and go to bed.

Macho Man cannot take a hint. He won't even leave when I tell him I'm tired and want to go to bed and "It's time for you to go home." Last night was no different. One of his friends could see I was dead on my feet and said they should leave because I was falling asleep. I bet it was another half hour before they actually left.

At least he didn't bring his ex-girlfriend. And I didn't have to specifically tell him he couldn't because I don't fucking like her. I mean, I mostly did tell him that. Just in nicer terms.

The long day yesterday led to me sleeping super late today. I think I got nearly 11 hours of sleep. I slept a good hour later than I did at The Boy I Currently Like's place the night before, and he kept me up very late. That probably explains my late sleeping.

So, I didn't get to the gym. The natural progression from my bed seemed to be to the couch with coffee and my book. I barely got up and did anything except fill my coffee cup or water glass before The Prison Librarian texted to ask if she could pop by to get her bike (another story entirely). That was the motivation I needed to at least brush my teeth and throw some water on my face. After she left I even walked up to the Uptown Market and to the grocery store.

Then, of course, I came home to do my laundry and read more. Oh, I thought about getting some work done, but this fucking book. Jesus, I can't stop reading. But I did eventually, an hour or more ago. I had to poach some chicken breasts and make pesto. I got an extra bunch of basil from Thao Farms when I walked back through the Uptown Market after going to the grocery store. That was my sign to make pesto. Of course, I bought the single bunch to make pesto, so I really just made a bigger batch than I intended.

It was probably a bad idea to skip the gym, but at least I did some walking. I'm not being super-serious about what I'm eating or what I'm doing at the gym/how often I'm going, but I feel like things are firming up and I'm looking okay. The Boy has been commenting about how much I'm working out and asking if I'm going to need to buy all new pants because I seem to be getting smaller ... but the most important thing is that I'm feeling strong and flexible and all that stuff.

None of that helped me get into the dresses I ordered for The Boy I Currently Like's Better-Looking Friend's wedding, however. Though, the dress I refused to try on in front of The Boy actually fit better than the one he watched me try on and helped me to unsuccessfully zip up. However, this dress would require a serious foundation garment and I'm not sure if I'd ever feel comfortable in such a slip of a thing even if I felt super-confident about my body.

I've ordered another dress and plan to go shopping this weekend. I'm fucking obsessing about what I'm going to wear to this wedding. Yeesh. And I still need shoes. If only I liked shopping.

10 August 2011

Who can live up to that hype?

New bras arrived today. They are not life-changing. Not even the one I'm keeping (I bought two sizes and I'm exchanging the too-big one for the right size and maybe a different color). It was too much pressure to put on a foundation garment, really.

What was I thinking? I like the bra. It is sturdy and I think it will serve me well. My shirts probably will fit differently, but then again, they do in different bras all the time.

At least I still know my size. After trying the bras on, I was having some trouble deciding which one to keep and which to exchange. It was advised if you were above a certain size, you should go up a band size when ordering. But when I wear that one, I'm on the smallest set of hooks already. There's no where to go if it stretches or if I shrink.

I now own a sewing-style tape measure (I already have several of the hardware store variety), because I had to measure The Boy I Currently Like last weekend for his suit for The Boy I Currently Like's Better-Looking Friend's upcoming nuptials. So, I decided to measure myself for a bra again. I was shocked, angry and panicked because I thought I somehow shot from an F cup to an I cup. I measured several more times and then rechecked the directions. It seems I missed a step. Whew. I'm still an F cup.

There are some things that really should be left to the professionals. When will I learn? (I'm worried about The Boy's suit, now. Poop.)

09 August 2011

How is it only Tuesday?

Man, fuck this week. It's just Tuesday? And neither my new bras nor my dresses have arrived yet? The Pizza Luce Block Party isn't until Saturday? Damn, you guys.

At least yoga was good. I stuck it out despite an unfamiliar instructor and was pleasantly surprised. Despite the fact that my left wrist is in bad shape because I unwisely tried to flip my dog. I knew I shouldn't do it, and I did it anyway. Because I am an idiot and now my wrist is even more fucked up than it was before. I finished class, though!

And I got my new computer at work today! I'm going to be hella productive now. I just know it. The new computer will be to work what my new bra will be to the rest of my life -- it will change everything.

Yes, I know I'm crazy. So what?

08 August 2011

Maybe I overreacted a bit.

Today wasn't so terrible. It sure didn't seem like it was going to be when it started. And I don't know if it was actually as okay as it felt, but I got work done and started the New Guy on some work, so ... If he shows up tomorrow, I'll consider today a success.

I was in a super-good mood for a good half the day, but by the time I did my errands and went to the gym, I was pretty wiped out.

When I got home there were packages! I was hoping it was my new bra or my dresses, but it was just my Birchbox and my prescriptions. I'm really, really excited about this bra. Urbanwanderlust loves hers. I have this ridiculous idea that it will somehow change my life -- all my shirts will fit better, I'll look better, I'LL BE A NEW WOMAN! I kinda feel the same about the dresses, but I have no idea why I think they'll fit. The two other things I've purchased from Pinup Girl have fit wonderfully, save for in the boob area. Why on Earth do I think these dresses will be any different? My boobs haven't gotten any smaller. But! There will be a new bra! So, you see how this all works in my head.

I'm a crazy lady, you see.

07 August 2011

This ain't soup-makin' weather.

Yet, I made a huge pot of minestrone tonight. Honestly, it couldn't be helped. My aunt's recipe calls for several things that were in my CSA box -- zucchini, carrots, onion, garlic, bell pepper, green beans, tomatoes ... I did have to augment, however. I needed celery and I actually gave the CSA onion to my coworker. Also, I only have one small tomato from the box. The Uptown Market remedied most of that, however.

My post-cooking, dish washing extravaganza was thwarted about midway through, however, when I discovered my drain-stopper-thingy had completely fallen apart. I was going to hit Target between work and the gym tomorrow. Might as well pop into Home Depot while I'm there, I guess.

Ugh, work. We finally have a new person starting tomorrow and I found out late Thursday afternoon that I was to be in charge of his training. Mostly because the New York office's program calls for too much training without enough working and Chicken Little was a considerable part of the reason our last new hire quit. So I'm pretty much the only hope. That's unfortunate, because I'm not a good teacher -- mainly because I'm not a patient woman.

Let's not forget that I still have to do my normal work. So I'll be back to working nights and weekends, which is probably why I've not done any work this weekend. I kinda feel like it is my last free one for a while. The boss seems to think this dude will catch on fast. I hope he's right. Either way, my Friday afternoon trip to Como with The Boy I Currently Like is almost certainly off. God fucking dammit.

06 August 2011

Obsessed.

I'm not all that bummed tonight that W is fighting off a summer cold and I never heard back from KayGee and the Prison Librarian, when I texted to say I was around if they wanted to hang out.

No, I'm very much content to stay at home tonight and read the third book in the "A Song of Fire and Ice" series (A Storm of Swords). It seemed kind of silly when I suggested to The Boy I Currently Like when I was still at his house earlier today that I would be exponentially nerdy and read the book while The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King played on the TV in the background. And yet, I did just that, 'cause I'm a nerd, y'all.

But it's not been all reading and nerdery tonight. I showered. And I've been doing a lot of cleaning/tidying up, in preparation for next week's Pizza Luce Block Party. I know there are people who will be out of town, but I'm sure some of my friends will go and will want to pee and why use the port-a-potties when my bathroom is so close?

Yet, the book is calling to me. So, I worked out a bargain with myself. I can read a chapter after I complete a task. It worked pretty well, but I now feel like I've done enough, dammit and I can just lay on the couch and read the rest of the night. The rest of the cleaning can wait until tomorrow.

Last night, The Boy ordered his suit for The Boy I Currently Like's Better-Looking Friend's wedding. It's gonna be super dashing. Unfortunately for me, the dress I'd been planning to order sold out in my size in the last couple of days before Friday, when I went to order it. I ordered a couple of others, but man, I highly doubt they'll work. I don't know what I'll do. And then there will be shoes to buy, and Spanx ... The Boy has no idea how much I empathized with him wanting a suit that wasn't available in his size and the frustration of needing me to bust out a tape measure and feel him up to make sure he was ordering something close to his size.

Speaking of The Boy, which I have done several times in this blog post, he tried out calling me his "Lady Caller" a couple of times last night. Some of you might remember that in places other than this blog, I refer to him as my Gentleman Caller. He tried "Lady Caller" once and said right away that it didn't sound right. It didn't sound any better last night. But you know, it's nice that he's trying to think of something to call me. I don't know what would work. I don't know what I would want to be called. I'm sure he'll come up with something. He's a clever and witty man.

04 August 2011

I've got the shakes.

I'm going through nerdy fantasy book withdrawal. Last night, I finished the second of George R.R. Martin's "A Song of Fire and Ice" series, A Clash of Kings. However, when I saw The Boy I Currently Like last week, I forgot to ask him to bring it, so I've got nothing to read tonight. Okay, that's not entirely true. I have comics to read (also from The Boy). I believe I've got an issue of Unwritten and maybe ... Fables? Perhaps I should read those when I'm done with this.

Since I finished the second book and W had finished the first, we did a book swap today. That meant a short bit of delightful conversation and some doggie petting. Yay to both.

I feel like I missed all this stuff, not writing for a few days. But really, all I've been doing outside of the normal work/gym routine is reading. Several things have occurred to me that I wanted to write about, but the pull of the nerd books is so strong.

There was something last week that LA Fitness briefly posted on their Facebook page saying you should do cardio first and then weights. However, in April, they posted an article (and I saw it taped up around the fucking gym) saying you should do weights first, then cardio, to maximize your workout. Based on the number of comments on the Facebook post that was deleted before I could read it, I'm guessing I wasn't the only person who remembered what they'd said just a couple of months ago.

That's one of the many reasons I don't want anything to do with their personal trainers. That shit is ALWAYS changing. Everyone has a different theory, and seemingly has data to back up their theory. Also, someone posted a sheet with "The Top 10 Reasons to Hire a Personal Trainer" at the St. Louis Park location ... and this list only has nine items. I cannot take anything you people say seriously.

Also from the gym, their horrible, horrible RMG Fitness Network, has been making my gym life miserable for like, a year. They show the same damn commercials over and over and over and over and over again until I want to stab myself in the eye and scream. The current object of my ire is a Gatorade iteration commercial that I will see three or four times in 10-15 minutes with some smirky fucking douche working out and flexing in front of a girl. OH MY GOD, I WANT TO KICK THAT MOTHERFUCKING JERKFACE IN THE TEETH.

The other "commercial" that repeats over and over and over again is the "real time tweets from leading fitness gurus" bullshit called Loca Moda. On the one hand, I kinda believe it is real-time because on a late Sunday morning the gossip tweets commercial kept coming up empty.

However, on the other hand, when I see the same tweets from that fucking Jeanette Jenkins telling me to do 200 crunches before bed every damn day ... well, if that is real time, she's got fucking problems with being repetitive. But maybe it's her job to be repetitive. Her job. Her job to be repetitive. Regardless, how do you fucking go to sleep after getting all riled up like that? Also, she talks about Jebus. He ain't got shit to do with my workout routine, thank you very much. It's like Rainier fucking Wolfcastle shouting slogans at Homer.

God, I hate the TV at the gym SO FUCKING MUCH. But I had to watch it tonight, 'cause I had no book.

Man, I was going to write some whole thing about work, but I got distracted by that gym shit I've been holding in for months. That will have to wait for another day, I guess.

01 August 2011

Randomicity.

1. I love cooking while watching Two Fat Ladies. It makes me happy for some reason.

2. New Neighbor had her blinds up and windows open when I went to take my trash out. She has no living room furniture, as far as I can tell. Just an elliptical machine. Weird? Also, the dude in her kitchen appeared to be wearing some sort of old-timey wrap around his head, a la crazy old timey toothache. You don't get much of a view when you're walking past, below the windows and you only sneak a peek.

3. My bug bites must have had some sort of delayed itch reaction. They really didn't bother me much at all yesterday, but today they have been ridiculous. I'm all full of itchy red welts.

4. I am unreasonably excited for the tomatoes coming in this week's CSA box. Especially for someone who hated tomatoes for most of her life. I will be eating some grilled cheese with tomato and bacon and BLTs (probably with avocado ... also probably avocado on the grilled cheese).

5. There are smashed mosquitoes on a couple of walls in my apartment, as a warning to the others who dare venture in here.

5. At one point, I had more ideas, but they seem to be gone. Or maybe I'm tired. Or maybe my book is calling to me.