Perfume: A Life Story

"A perfume is like a piece of clothing, a message, a way of presenting oneself, a costume that differs according to the woman who wears it."

- Paloma Picasso

Elizabeth Arden Sunflowers - This perfume feels like the last time I felt comfortable in my skin until I was 30.  This is summer time.  This is wheat fields.  This is swimming in the Ablah's pool and listening to Matthew Sweet.  This is dying your hair bright red with Manic Panic.  This is feeling like the best version of yourself while wearing cut-off denim and a t-shirt.

Calgon Hawaiian Ginger body spray/patchouli oil/Jovan Island Gardenia - The dabbling years. High school wasn't that much fun.  I wasn't bullied.  I had friends.  I did well in classes.  But it just wasn't fun.  I was lost.  I had an idea of the person I was, but I felt trapped by what everyone else thought I was.  I loved makeup and clothes.  I could recite Shakespeare's Sonnets by heart.  I loved romance and adventure.  But I was the serious girl who always wore a dark blue hoodie.  I didn't think anyone would be okay with the riotous springtime that was happening inside of me.

Romance by Ralph Lauren - I think I wore this because I wanted to be the kind of person who wore this.  I wanted to be softer.  I wanted to be inviting and lovely.  I had spent the four years of high school building a "barrier of barb and check" around myself.  I wanted to tear it down after high school, but I didn't know how. So I wore this perfume, but it didn't change anything. Eventually I just gave up and built the wall higher. To the sky.

Pink Sugar by Aquolina - This was an attempt at frivolity in my mid 20s.  I am frivolous in many ways, but frivolous in a sort of dark carnival way.  This perfume is pure cotton candy and pink cherubs playing The Carpenters on lutes. When I wear it now it feels oppressive and like a person who doesn't understand herself.

Angel by Thierry Mugler - Body chemistry is a weird thing.  This perfume smells good on me.  On some molecular level this perfume hits my body and becomes something better. I've had to prove to other people who also wear this perfume, that this is what I'm wearing. Diablo Cody calls this the ultimate stripper perfume in her memoir Candy Girl: A Year In the Life of an Unlikely Stripper.  I like that.

Flower Bomb by Viktor & Rolf - This choice says a lot about me.  Not the scent though.  The scent is good, but whatever.  But the fact that I found my perfume...  THE PERFUME...  and then decided I should try something else because the something else seemed more interesting and distinctive says plenty.  I tried to force myself to love it, and I still wear it occasionally when I want to switch it up.  I'm just not this girl.

Angel by Thierry Mugler - This is the perfume I will be wearing when I die. Most likely causes: eating too many cheddar bay biscuits or a freak carnival ride accident.


Weird question... do you guys look in the mirror when you put on perfume?  I do, and I don't know why.

You'll Meet an Army of Me

Folks, I don’t know much about anything (except the care and upkeep of pugs and where to buy the best donuts), but I do know a whole heck of a lot about the wild and amazing world of insecurities.

It’s a very practical knowledge I’ve acquired over the years due to my ability to walk through this weird and wonderful world with near crippling anxiety and insecurity.

Yes, I know it all very well.

Most of my anxiety and insecurity (and I suspect this is the case for most people) stems from comparing myself to others. It’s a constant, negative voice in my head that tells me that not only am I not as interesting/beautiful/intelligent/special as others, but that everyone else can see that I’m lacking and is just as disappointed in me as I am.

It’s exhausting and a super dick-ish thing to do to yourself.

Insecurity is so insidious too. Sometimes, like today, I will start the day A-OK and then find myself swiftly sinking into a dark K-hole of meanness. It can be triggered by something or nothing. Social media seems to be the prime suspect most of the time.

As I found myself mired in this fire swamp of self loathing today, I decided that it was time for a little vulnerability and sharing. I know most of us experience this at some point, and probably most of use experience it every week if not every day.

If you find yourself similarly mired, here are the hand grenades I lob at my insecurities on a regular basis:

- Repeat to infinity the mantra “I love myself, I love myself, I love myself…”. Brains are super dumb. If you say something as a fact over and over, even if you don’t believe that fact, eventually your brain will start to believe it, and suddenly it will be true! This one is crazy important and effective. Don’t wait for others to validate you. It’s dangerous and addictive. You have to try to believe with your whole entire body that you slow strut on rainbows.

- Do something nice for others. Get out of your own head and think about adding joy to someone else’s day. Inevitably it will increase your own joy.

 - Do something nice for yourself. Buy yourself something that makes you feel rad or eat a guilt-free donut. You’ve probably earned it.

- Create a note on your phone where you can keep track of every nice thing anyone has ever said about you. Refer to it liberally and believe every word of it. This one is tough sometimes because I tend to think every compliment I am paid is just done to humor me. I counteract this by channeling my best Bette Davis bravado and mentally affirming ‘Yes’ after reading each item. Again, brains are super dumb.

- Listen to this song. On repeat, if necessary.

For the most part, I am in the best place I have ever been as far as self-love and acceptance goes, but I still have my days. Those are the days I can see how much progress I have made, and the great love affair I have with myself. I can see it in the fortitude I have to warrior through and get back to A-OK or better.

Using a machete to cut through red tape.

Keep slow strutting across those rainbows, pals, and I’ll keep slow strutting across my own.

Spiritual Pizza Party

Riotous pizza joy!

I’m not good at celebrating myself.  I bet you aren’t either.

But I also bet you’re super fantastic at berating yourself for your tiniest failure.  I sure as shit am!

You wanted to work out 3 times this week, but you only did it once?  What an ASSHOLE.

You weren’t going to eat any cake at the birthday party, but you did anyways?  WOW… you’re a real DICK STICK.

You decided to watch The Bachelorette instead of reading War and Peace?  You illiterate SON OF A BITCH.

Why are we such nit-picky assholes to ourselves?  Why is it so much easier to dwell on the things we haven’t accomplished than to celebrate the things that we have?

I’ve done a really bad job of celebrating something that I totally deserve to celebrate.

Three years ago, around this time of the year, I decided it was time to be healthier.

 I have lost 130 lbs.

Killing it at Lady Gaga karaoke and killing it in general.

It was so hard and frustrating and I thought I would never get to where I am today.

I am so damn proud of myself.

I’ve accomplished something so crazy huge, and I actually find myself hiding it… I delete old photos of myself and untag myself in photos on Facebook.  It’s really hard for me to even casually mention it in conversations without adding some qualifying bit of information to make sure people know that it’s not that big of a deal.

I recently found myself getting jealous of someone on Facebook because they were featured on a  weight loss page for losing a similar amount of weight.  And I had to stop and remind myself that the only difference between the two of us is that she acknowledges and celebrates herself.  SHE BRAGS.  It’s AWESOME.

I think we have a real problem in our culture with people acknowledging how awesome they are.  We tell them that they are arrogant.  We tell them that they are not a special snowflake.
 
It’s weird.

When we stop acknowledging our own special snowflake-ness, it makes us really bitter about other peoples’ special snowflake-ness.

You are a SNOWFLAKE.  You are a SKYSCRAPER.  You are BEYONCE.

And I think it’s okay to acknowledge that and throw ourselves a very special snowflake party every once in awhile.

So this is me bragging, and reminding everyone that I am Kanye West levels of awesome.

Love yourself, you guys!

Today I challenge you to celebrate yourself for something cool you've done.   Maybe folding a fitted sheet perfectly or eating 5 cupcakes in one sitting!  It all counts!

Whoa

I just realized I haven't written a blog since August.

Here are my super solid excuses:

1. September is the lamest month ever.

2. I am the lamest person ever.

3. I've been watching a lot of re-runs of Wings.


The thing is that I feel like I haven't done anything worthy of a blog, but I actually have done some stuff.

On the home decorating front, I made these cool glitter frames for my Golden Girls portraits:

Still haven't hung them yet.  Give me another 6 months.

And I bought these hella rad acrylic folding chairs from my friend Kari who got a hella rad deal on them on Craigslist:

Just imagine how cool they will look
when I've covered the beige carpet with
a bold rug, and centered an even bolder
light fixture above the table. Hella fucking rad.

Okay... I'm done saying 'hella' now like a doucheketeer asshole.

I went to the Kansas State Fair. Twice.

And ate about 12,000 calories on each visit.

Always say yes to a gyro made in a truck.

And rode a ferris wheel.

And fell in love with this chicken's sweet style.

Other than that I've just been be-bopping around (not she-bopping around... gross) and trying not to eat too many mug brownies.  There has been some dating too.

So all in all a not so shabby month in progress for Jess!  Let's keep trucking into the big show... AUTUMN!!!

Reboot

I have been having some trouble with anxiety lately.  Just an unrelenting tightness in my abdomen and a  lot obsessive thoughts and worrying.  Such a terrific way to walk through the world!

Sometimes I think the best thing to do when anxiety descends is to stop, take a deep breath, and express some fucking gratitude for all of the wonderful things you have in this world.

I have so many things to be grateful for... a ridiculous and embarrassing amount of things actually.

I have a sweet little dog that worships the ground I walk on.
And a funny cat.
I have parents that would do anything for me.
And aunts and uncles that would too.
And grandparents that think that I'm brilliant.
And friends that make me laugh.
And a dude that thinks I'm pretty rad.
I have good books to read.
And rainy days.
And sunny days.
I have meditation.
And poetry.
I have a body that lets me do just about anything I want.
I have a job that gives me space to be creative in my free time.
And co-workers that I actually enjoy being around.
I have air conditioning when I'm hot.
I have heat when I'm cold.
And I have shelter from storms.
I receive love, affection, and acceptance from so many.
I receive lessons and insight about myself from so many.
And kindness from strangers too.

And acknowledging all of that takes the edge off of my anxiety, but it's still there.  And I guess the thing I am most grateful for is my heart... which knows on every level that this is only temporary.  That the anxiety will pass and good things are always moving into your life and problems are always sorting themselves out and the universe is always conspiring to shower you with even more blessings.

So I think today is a day for treating myself and others tenderly... I'm just going to wrap myself in a nice warm duvet reminder of all of the things that are right in my world, and try and find some ways to spread a little love and kindness out into the world.

I hope everyone has an amazing day.

What's Right?

Mondays, for the most part, tend to be underwhelming.

So I think it's a good day to practice a little thankfulness.  What could it possibly hurt to identify a few things that are going pretty okay for you?

Here are some things I think are pretty cool today:

1. Rainstorms!
2. Beautiful full moon on my morning walk with Henry
3. Super nice co-workers that give you brownies for no reason at all
4. This recipe for slow-cooker "refried" beans... I make it about once a week.  So good. So cheap. Fat free!
5. The book The Energy of Prayer by Thich Nhat Hanh
6. This lush tuft of grass I saw growing on a pile of trash in the middle of the river. Perseverance and determination, you guys.

7. Cake
8. Still listening to 'Must Land Running' by Stepdad like a mental patient.

9. Knitting projects... Fall is so close! I can't wait to huddle around wood fires and eat pumpkin flavored everything.
10. Good people... just so many good people on this planet.  And I get to know so few of them, but they kill me with their love and kindness every single day.

Riotous Joy In Our Hearts

It's Monday and I'm thinking about all of the things I have to be thankful for in this batshit insane life of mine. Everyday I see things that make me excited about pushing forward.  I hope you do too.

I think we should all tell the naysayers of the Universe to stay pressed and go write about it in their diaries.

Now let's listen to happy music and dance like maniacs!!

1. Must Land Running by Stepdad

2. Bright Whites by Kishi Bashi

3. Tongue Tied by Grouplove

Also this gif set illustrates exactly what I'm like in real life:

Bits and Bats and Progress On a Major Life Goal

Have you guys seen the thing where adorable Brazilian children are politely correcting the grammar of celebrities' tweets in order to improve their own English?

Something about it makes me feel good about humanity.


I had a weird dream last night that I learned how to rock climb by climbing Devil's Tower in Wyoming.

And I was totally fine the entire time I was climbing.  Fearless.  Just slow strutting up the shear face of this thing.

And then I got to the top and looked down at what I had accomplished... the heights I had risen to... and that's when the paralyzing fear kicked in hard.  I was overwhelmed. I remember making a conscious decision to sit down and give myself some time to really come to terms with the accomplishment.  Something about not being able to undo what I had done (even though it was an amazing, powerful thing) was really difficult to process.  I could never again in my life say that I hadn't climbed a 1,300 foot extinct volcano.

I think there is something in that feeling.  Sometimes success and moving forward are scary just because it means a fundamental change in yourself.  Even if that change is good and even if your life looks more than ever like what you always dreamed it would look like, it's still a thing you have to fucking process and take time trying to get your claws around.  And that's okay.


This song is fucking killing me it's so awesome.  Just bury me in the ground with a boom box playing this on an infinite loop.

Major Lazer - You're No Good (featuring Santigold, Vybz Kartel, Danielle Haim, and Yasmin)

Seriously, you guys... SO GOOD.

And now for some veryveryvery serious business.

I'm sure you guys are aware of my lifelong quest for the mirror-like shine and gloss of Kyle Richards' hair.

I'm not saying I'm there yet, but some major progress has been made because of this product:

I used this for the first time last night and you guys... no seriously YOU GUYS... my hair is so shiny and soft today!  My little vain heart is singing with riotous joy... go buy it!

Crushes: A History

Age 8 - Emilio Estevez as Billy the Kid in Young Guns 2

Age 11-13 - A kid in my grade (lets call him Kelso). One time in shop class he asked me about my book of Edgar Allen Poe’s poetry and I misinterpreted this to mean he was interested in poetry and had a poetic soul. Turns out he was just kinda dumb and really didn’t know who Edgar Allen Poe was.

Age 14-present - Jello Biafra and Graham Coxon

Age 15 - Joe. Joe was a senior and had an awesome tattoo on his calf. Sometimes he wore a kilt to school (this is the middle of nowhere in Kansas, mind you). He was really nice, and drove me home from school one day. I think he only did it because he was friends with my brother. I was silent during the entire ride.

Age 17 - Ben. I worked with Ben during the summer, and on his last day I didn’t say goodbye because I was too shy.

Age 21 - This 19 year old punk kid from Manchester on Livejournal. I have no idea what his name was, but he was definitely failing his college courses. He had a mohawk and the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen. I stalked his journal for 6 months, but never actually followed it because I was too shy.

Age now - No one. Well maybe this dude I saw at the Y a few weeks ago. He has red hair and a great beard. I call him Ginger Y, but I haven’t seen him but that once.

In the Movie Version of My Life

I think I'm in a period of my life I like to call 'movie-montaging'.

Like those scenes in movies that usually start right after the main character has hit some sort of rock-bottom, and the inspirational music kicks in...

And they start slowly pulling their fragmented life together.

Cleaning the booze out of their refrigerator.

Watering their nearly dead houseplants.

Learning to read.

Jogging through snow with logs on their back.

And at first they suck, but as the music crescendos, they turn a corner and suddenly they're doing 17,000 one-armed push ups and getting hired for their dream job.

I'm pretty sure that's what I'm supposed to be doing right now.  Because although there is nothing concretely awesome on the horizon, I feel pretty confident there will be so imma sit tight and do oblique crunches until it arrives.

Birth

I found this while I was stumbling around on Pinterest recently, and it has since started sloshing around in the same part of my brain that usually hosts midnight existential anxiety parties.

Quote attributed to Kelly Cutrone.

It has been sloshing around in there, and handing out free Quaaludes and mugs of warm chamomile tea to all the usual party-goers: the 'is there something wrong with me?', the 'why is everyone else having babies and buying houses and I'm still poor and alone?', the 'gee whiz it sure seems like everyone else is having a great time', the 'what if I'm meant to die alone in a hoarder house?' , and, my favorite guest, the 'why do good things always seem to happen for everybody else?'.

I am 31.  That means, according to this quote anyways, I get to have one last year to cocoon.  One year to not even think about important adult business like marriage and babies.  One year to figure out if I really even want either of those things. One year.

I'm grabbing it by the meatiest part of its balls.

So what am I going to do this year?... well hopefully a lot of terrifying things that tie into my New Years(ish) Resolutions.

- I want to write a novel length something. And let people read it.
- I want to ride in a hot air balloon.
- I want to go on picnics alone.
- I want to stand on the edge of a cliff and look straight down.
- I want to complete a 5K race. (I have already signed up for this one)
- I want to give my phone number to an attractive stranger.
- I want to burn bridges with toxic people. Just fucking annihilate them.
- I want to ride a horse.
- I want to strip my life down to the most important essentials.
- I want to jump off of the high diving board.
- I want to write an earnest love letter to someone.
- I want to be vulnerable every day.

So Project Cocoon commences.  This year is going to be full of riotous joy... I can feel it in my 31 year old bones.

A Love Letter To My Others

Friends,

Have I ever told you how rad you all are?

Have I sent each one of you a needlepoint throw pillow emblazoned with the words 'THANK YOU FOR READING MY BULLSHIT AND PRETENDING IT ISN'T BULLSHIT' in hot pink thread??

I wish I could because you are all so fabulous to me.  Your comments and encouragement are like my own personal double rainbows delivered right to my inbox.

I've been thinking a lot about the 'Find The Others' web comic I posted awhile back.

I just can't even begin to tell you how much that message has been the theme of my life the past few months.  My life has been magical in a very subtle, quiet, and beautiful way lately.  Every piece finding it's place at exactly the right moment.  The patience it has taken to sit still and let my life find it's way has been at times unbearable, but I feel really excited about where my life is headed lately even though I have no idea where that might be.

And I think some of that has to do with this blog.  Writing in this blog has helped me become more comfortable with being vulnerable.  I struggle with this.  I find it difficult to reveal personal things about myself to other people... even simple things like what music I like or which footballer I'm currently pretending to date.  But letting people into my interior life through this blog has been such a rewarding experience because of you guys, and I have found that this has bled over into my everyday, non-internet life as well.

All I can say is that everything really good and amazing that happens in life does so when you allow yourself to be vulnerable to others.  It is the most rewarding and exhilarating feeling in the universe.

Am I turning into Deepak Chopra?  Will Oprah ask me to be on her show??  Will she give me a brand new car???

I'm pretty sure the answer to all of these is a resounding 'Definitely maybe.'

And I can live with that.

Thank you so much for being my 'Others'.

With much love and double rainbows...

Your Pal,
Jess

When the Moon is in the Seventh House...

I love astrology.  But only really good astrology... and by that I mean astrology that challenges you to really think about your self and your life.

I have only ever found one astrologist that I read on a regular basis and his name is Rob Brezsny.  His website Free Will Astrology is one I can honest to God/Goddess/Glob/Beyonce say has changed my life. His weekly horoscopes challenge me to think about... I mean REALLY think about... myself and my choices and the person I am trying to be.

This week, however, I'm super perplexed by my horoscope:

So... I should just like sit tight and do nothing?  That sounds great???

In the meantime I'm having a weirdly spectacular week in spite of nothing actually happening.

It's like I'm slow strutting across a thousand million rainbows and nothing can break my stride.  Also I managed to get the eyeliner 'kitten flicks' on both eyes to match which never happens except on Tuesday nights when I'm at home watching re-runs of Wings and no one will see it anyways.

All I know is that I feel like I should be on Beyonce and Jay-Z's yacht flirting with male models from Baltic countries I've never heard of while drinking champagne from a glass rimmed with actual diamond dust, but it's okay that i'm not because I feel like my life is on the exact track it is supposed to be on and something amazing is in store for me this year.

So basically the hippies have won and I have rainbows and unicorns shooting out of every pore on my body.

We're going to finish the week out strong, kids.

My Battle Against Impending Spinsterhood

So the big announcement is...

I'VE JOINED AN ONLINE DATING WEBSITE.

And, you guys, I hate it.  It's the worst.  I just don't understand anything that is going on.

And that's not just the dating website... that's just in life, like in general, I have no idea what the fuck is going on ever.

So over the weekend I made my mom take some cheesecake photos of me because, other big announcement, I have lost 100 lbs, and I had zero photos of myself not looking like a zeppelin.

(Side note:  I'll post a few of the photos later. There is one in particular that is a gem that I think I should share, but I forgot to email them to myself)

And, you guys, I don't know what I expected.  I don't know if I have incredibly high standards, or if the pickins' are just super slim around these parts, but every guy that has contacted me seems like a serial killer, a broseph, or a total schmo.  I mean, I realize this is real life and not an adorable romantic comedy starring Reese Witherspoon and Tom Hardy, but jeez louise...  is there no one out there that likes the same weird shit I like and can simultaneously rock a fucking suit? Or how about just a guy that doesn't have a photo of himself wearing fucking Oakley sunglasses?  Jesus H. Christ.

Am I going to die "fat and alone, and be found three weeks later half-eaten by Alsatiens (or pugs)"?

And if I am, can I just figure out how to be okay with that?

I don't know... it's been three days and I'm feeling totes discouraged.

Also, I'm still living at home right now, and I feel like any quality dude is going to find that weird.  I'm moving back out on my own in the spring, but in the mean time I feel weird about having to address all of the debbie downer reasons I moved back home in the first place.  Thoughts?

Help me, I'm poor in social skills.

What I Actually Wore

I decided it would be fun(?) to do a 'What I Actually Wore' set to contrast with my super expensive fantasy 'What I Wish I Wore' sets.  It turned out to be an exercise in futility because Polyvore doesn't keep sweaters that Target sold 5 to 6 years ago in its database or a selection of cheap knock-off made in China jewelry either. I managed a rough approximation of what I am actually wearing as I sit here typing these words that you are reading.

I don't own a Balenciaga bag.  I don't own a knock-off Balenciaga bag, but I felt that this bag most accurately represented the slouch of my canvas messenger bag which I bought off of Etsy.

Neither do I own a Tory Burch wrap bracelet or a David Yurman pave diamond bracelet.  What I do own are two $4 bracelets I bought from Sam Moon that look kinda sorta like these.

Also, my Target wedges don't have that much platform because I'm already 5'8" and I don't need to walk around like Frankenstein towering over everyone and frightening children.

I do, however, own these exact trousers from Old Navy and a white Fossil watch.

So now you know.

Oh and here is a rough approximation of all the shit I put on my face this morning to achieve a "natural" look.

I'm about as natural as Kim Kardashian.  It takes a lot of work to look this average, you guys.

What I Am...

Reading...

Eating...

Thinking about...

Watching...

Listening to...

Lusting for...

And those are just a few of my current favorite things.  Especially the pineapple.

A Day In The Life

So last week work got kinda crazy, and then there was the Game of Thrones season finale last night which, you guys, I can't even talk about yet.  Just a lot of feelings.

So what happened in between?

Not much, but I'm going to tell you about it anyways.

Have I ever told you guys that I live with my parents?  Yeah.  I'm that person.  I am the 30 year old woman that lives with her parents.

It's a long story, and not a super fun one involving job loss, anxiety, and the death of a family member.  The good news is that my parents are rad so I kind of enjoy living with them.  I fully intend on moving out at some point, but for the time being I'm pretty okay with staying put.

Also, you guys, in Spain it is like 100% normal for adult children to live with their parents indefinitely. So, in a way, it's very European and sophisticated of me.

That's what I keep telling myself anyways.

Okay so last week I started to get a cold, plus I was crazy busy so I pretty much planned to do nothing this weekend.  Also my parents were both away for the weekend so I had the house to myself (Party! Shenanigans!!).

Here is what I did on Saturday to the best of my memory:

7:00 - Awake
7:15-7:45 - Feed dogs
8:00-8:15 - Feed self
8:15- 9:00 - Debate taking morning walk
9:00 - Get sick of listening to debate in own head, leave for walk
9:00 - 10:15 - Walking
10:20 - 12:00 - Find nothing on television, decide to watch the entire first season of Girls on HBO On Demand
12:00 - Feed self (Tostada!)
12:30 - Finally shower
1:00-2:00 - Nap time!!
2:00-5:00 More Girls (periodically interrupted by wandering into the kitchen to eat things)
5:00 - Decide I should sit outside for awhile and enjoy the nice weather.  Get sick of it after 10 minutes and go back inside.
5:30 - Dinner time!! More tostadas!!!
6:00 - Regret eating dinner so early.  Vast stretch of time remaining between now and bed time during which I should not eat anything else.
6:00-7:00 - Try watching X-Men First Class on HBO (you guys, it's so bad.  So many great actors, how can it be so bad?!  Michael Fassbender couldn't even fix the terrible writing)
7:00 - Give up on X-Men.  Wander into kitchen.
7:00 - Toast with peanut butter
7:05 - Cookie dough
7:15 - More cookie dough
7:30 - Try watching Hall Pass on HBO (you guys, this one is so bad too.  I will laugh at almost anything and this is just awful.  And why is Joy Behar from The View in this movie? Ugh. The worst)
7:45 - Pineapple.  I eat an entire container of pineapple.  At least it's fruit?
8:00 - Decide to take a chance on Dinner for Schmucks (best decision I've made all day. Hilarious)
10:00 - 12:00 Re watch old soccer game I have saved on DVR
12:00 - Wash face and remove contacts
12:15 - 12:45 - Reading A Clash of Kings (Game of Thrones book)
12:45 - Asleep

As you can see my life is non-stop socializing and partying.  It's basically like an episode of Sex in the City but with more sex, drugs, and rock and roll. And cookie dough.

The Absolute Worst

Hey guys!  Guess what?  No Imaginary Boyfriend this week.

It turns out it's a good thing I took that imaginary vacation with Xavi on Tuesday because I'm currently in the midst of a shitstorm of work.

Basically my desk looks like Stannis' fleet being ravaged by wildfire:

That's another Game of Thrones reference for all of the non-nerds.

I am also fighting off getting a cold.  Possibly I already have the cold and I am in denial about it, but the reality I am choosing to accept is that I do not as of yet have the cold and by force of will I will prevent myself from getting it.

So it will be back to our regularly scheduled programming next week.

My Barca Boys

You know how there are things that you just love without having to think about it or try?

Things like:

- a slice of warm pie with vanilla ice cream

- re-runs of Designing Women

- watching someone fall down

- that first sip of ice-cold beer on a hot day

- the way wheat fields looks in May... all green and velvet-y

These are not acquired tastes.  You just love them... you savor them without even having to remind yourself to do so.


Well, that's how I feel about soccer.  That's how I feel about FC Barcelona soccer.

Someday, you guys.  I will be right smack dab in this middle
of these shenanigans.

So the thing is, if you met me in real life, I am not the kind of person you would meet and think 'I bet this girl is really passionately obsessed with sports and especially soccer.'  You just wouldn't.  You would probably more likely think 'I wonder how many cats she has, and should I tell her that her fly is down?'

But I am. I may be writing this right smack dab in the middle of Kansas, but I am no less a culé than if I were sitting right smack dab in the middle of that stadium in Barcelona.

Instead of trying to write a 20 page essay about Barca that no one in their right mind would ever try to read I will  simply highlight my two favorite people on the team.

First up is Xavi.

I'm convinced that if I ever made direct eye contact
with Xavi, I would instantly melt into a puddle of
strawberry jam and rainbows.

Xavi is just Xavi.  No last name necessary.  He is Il Maestro.  He is the heart and soul of the team.  I once read a quote from one of his teammates that the first thing any of them do when they get the ball is to find Xavi and pass the ball to him.  He is not a superstar in the sense that he rarely makes goals himself, but if a goal is scored by one of his teammates there is a 99% chance that it was scored from a pass that he set up.

It's really better to see him in action.

Also, one of his hobbies is mushroom-hunting.  So he is also a giant nerd, and you know how I feel about those in general.

My second favorite person at Barca is Pep Guardiola, the manager (coach).

Sometimes I think he looks like a more handsome, Spanish Karl Pilkington.

Pep is not only probably the greatest manager in Barcelona history, he is dapper as fuck.  We're talking Don Draper levels of dapperdom.  Epic.  And he's a Barcelona boy to the core.  Played there as a youth, played there as an adult, managed the B team, and then finally managed the main team.  And he's only 41 years old.

So this past Saturday was Pep's last game in Camp Nou (the Barcelona stadium) because he has decided to leave after the season ends in May.  You guys, it is for realsies breaking my heart to see him go.

So they won the game 4-0 which was awesome.

And then this happened:

It says "We love you, Pep!"

Por Los Aires

The entire team and staff dancing mid-pitch to Viva La Vida by Coldplay.

And I'm not kidding you, TEARS streaming down my face like a real asshole, you guys.

So now you know... although I'm 100% positive you were already pretty aware... I am a gigantic nerd/crazy person.

Lizzing

You guys, I channeled Liz Lemon so hard all day yesterday.

I mean... if I had to pick a TV character that my life most resembled it would be her.  Although I'm obviously not the head writer of a TV show, I am definitely a person that would eat a Pop Tart I found under the sofa.

I ate an entire Dove dark chocolate bar in about 2 minutes.  I bought it with the intention of eating half and saving the rest for later like an adult-type person might do, but that fell by the wayside pretty much immediately.

Also I spent the entire day with toothpaste up and down the entire length of the sleeve of my sweater.  I had to carry around a stack of papers all day to conceal it.

Also there was a maxi pad situation which I will not go into...  mostly for your sake and not because I'm in the least concerned about preserving my own dignity.

However, I've managed to pull myself together today.

And I took a photo of my shopping cart last night because it struck me as an educational visual aid for the 20-something ladies out there.

I misspelled hygiene.  Not surprised.

Get ready, sweet summer child.  Winter is coming.