Archive | Lessons RSS feed for this section

Weather complaints or Why we should all move to California

4 Feb

So in general, I’m pretty sure people like me. I mean, I’m a cool person and I was recently told that I might be too pleasant.

Sounds like a good thing, right? Well I was told this during a job interview. I still don’t know what to think of it.

Anywho, even though I might be cool and nice, I know there are times when people just want me to shut my cool and nice mouth. They probably want to punch my cool and nice face too, but so far they’ve refrained from that (and I thank them for that everyday that I don’t have to wear foundation to cover up a black eye).

So what is it that might annoy people to the point of punching, you ask?

Well that would be my love for cold weather, specifically snow. Along with that, my dislike of hot temps and the sun. I really don’t like the sun. Even when it’s smiling and wearing cool shades.

(Source)

Okay fine, I don’t hate the sun. I just don’t always appreciate it. I do hate that it brings 100 degree temps to my place of residence and makes me want to curl up in my freezer and cry. All the time. From April-October. Dramatic much?

So yes, I like colder weather. This could be because I was born in Ohio and lived there until I was 14 (by the way, snow days were a regular thing for me growing up. Jealous?) or because I look cuter in winter clothes. I can’t deny the truth, you guys. If you only see me once in your life, I can promise that you’d rather me be wearing boots and a sweater than shorts and a tank top. For your sake.

I also get crap for still liking Ohio sports teams. “Mansee you don’t live in Ohio anymore! You went to school in Texas! You’re not allowed to be a Buckeye fan!”

Um, yes I can. It’s not like I’m this HUGE football fan or anything, but if I am going to root for a team, it’s going to be the team that my family has the most ties too. And that would be Ohio State, so get off my back.

Also? Scarlet is cuter than burnt orange. Sorry I’m not sorry.

Back to the weather. So when it does get cold, I get excited and pull out my boots and scarves (and if I’m really lucky, gloves!) and bundle up to go outside for whatever reason. OR I pull on sweatpants over my leggings that I’m obviously already wearing and curl up in my Snuggie. And then I hear this:

“Ha, I thought you LIKED the cold weather? How are you going to survive in New York if you can’t handle this?”

The latter statement tends to come from my parents who never want me to leave their house. No joke. If they lived in New York, they would say no such thing.

Listen. Just because I like the cold weather, does not mean I’m immune to feeling it! I don’t want to wear a bikini (ew) and dance around in the snow. I mean, really? I’m quite aware that if I were to move to New York or Chicago or any other place that has real winters, I would need to wear a jacket. I get that. I’M NOT A POLAR BEAR FOR GOODNESS SAKE.

Do I question why everybody runs around half naked in the summer? No, I don’t.

It’s not like people who like hot weather never complain about the heat. When I worked at Starbucks and spent my summers blending frappuccinos I never got on my customer’s case for complaing that it was “hotter than hades out there!” No I just made thier extra caramel, double blended, extra whip caramel frappuccino and watched while they sucked down a future heart attack.

So yes, when it’s cold I wrap myself in two blankets and exclaim “wow it’s really cold outside” or I might refuse let my dog out because “I don’t think he can handle this cold”.

Lazy? Maybe. But I’m allowed to do it.

You know what else I am allowed to do? Laugh at the store I work at for closing down early because it MIGHT snow. Obviously this would be funnier if I didn’t end up staying 1.5 hours late so that another person wouldn’t have to come in for only 1.5 hours.

Yea, I worked a 10 hour shift and I still like cold weather. It’s a lifelong love and it’s never going away.

And before I get all the summer girls in a frenzy (ha, remember that song?) let me just say this: I don’t hate summer. I do enjoy warm weather–just not 1385030 days of it. There are some days that I actually wish I was a witch so that I would melt in the heat and be put out of my misery. Plus, I look good in black.

In a perfect world we wouldn’t have to deal with extreme weather. Ideally, we would all live  where it was in the 50’s or 60’s everyday. Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect weather.

Oh wait, that’s just San Francisco. Seriously, what is this?

Maybe we all need to move to California?

I really don’t know where I’m going to live a year from now. I might still be in Texas, I might be in Wisconsin. I could be in New York or California! The beauty in this is not knowing where I might be.

No matter what though, I will always prefer boots to sandals and sweaters to tube tops. And we’re all allowed to complain about the weather, right? So how about I’ll let you complain about the snow today if you let me complain about the heat in July. Deal? Deal.

So excuse me while I go eat a bowl of soup because I’m not immune to the cold. Plus, I really really like soup.

Oh, and to anybody reading this who lives in the north. I’m sure you’re super tired of all the blizzards and would like to punch me in the face right now. It’s okay, I don’t blame you. I just bought new foundation and concealer anyway.

The Vegan Diaries: Now what?

2 Feb

Warning: The photos in this post are awful because I don’t have a camera and had to use my phone. And even though my phone is superfreakingawesome, it’s camera is not so superfreakingawesome. SO, please do not compare me to other bloggers who can take superfreakingawesome photos. (cough Jessica cough). Thank you.

I bet you’re wondering what my first non-vegan meal was. You’ve probably been waiting all day to find out!

Or you’ve read my past posts and have noticed that I’ve done nothing but talk about cheese for a week.

If it’s the latter, than you won’t be surprised that I woke up and made myself a grilled cheese sandwich this morning. And it was delicious.

With a side of blueberries, also known as "bloobs" by other blogs/in my head.

My mom insists I don’t get enough antioxidants, so she took it upon herself to buy two huge things of bloobs for me. I keep trying to tell her I eat enough dark chocolate a day to feed a small village (dark chocolate=antioxidants, duh) but she refuses to listen.

Also, that picture was taken in my parents bathroom. That’s how bad the lighting was in the rest of the house.

At work, I ate…nothing.

I had expected to find myself pining over our cookies and soups and cheesecakes, etc. But oddly enough, I didn’t really want any of that. Perhaps I’m growing up?

Oh, but I did eat a bag of cheetos. Guess I’m not growing up. Hmph.

When I got home (which was SUCH a drama because my car basically froze while I was working and my accelerator just did not want to go. I had to sit there for like 15 minutes to allow it to warm-up. What a baby.) I found that my mom had made soup!

Seafood soup to be exact. Ate it all, except for the okra because the slimy seeds remind me of my dog's drool. Truth.

Oh and my mom would like all of you to know that she made that soup from scratch, including the broth. As in she made homemade seafood broth. Impressive, no?

I also had more bread and cheese on the side. No complaints.

And fried stuff.

These pics are making all my food look gross, but I swear it was delicious.

I bet you’re wondering what Max was doing while I was eating, huh?

Surprisingly enough, this was the best picture I could get. Sigh.

He sat two feet away and stared at me. Just stared. The entire time I was eating/taking pictures of him with my phone.

And here’s a photo of a cute mug, just for fun!

Kind of trippy...

I ate dinner while watching today’s episode of Oprah. Ironically enough, Oprah and her staff went vegan for one week and the show was about how they dealt with it. But it was also about how animals are treated in this country and what “vegan-ish” diets can do for our bodies. By no means was it a “meat is bad!” type of episode, rather the main message was that we should all be aware of what we’re eating.

I took away a few things from the episdoe:

1. Trying a vegan diet really does make you aware of what foods you eat, and how dependent we can be on animal products.

2. However, with that said, I can firmly say that a vegan diet is not for me. Maybe it’s because I didn’t do it long enough for my body to fully adjust or because I ended up carbo-loading like I was running a marathon (seriously, I ate more bagels this month than I did all of 2010. Atkins, who?), but this way of life just isn’t for me.

3. My dog does look like a baby cow (otherwise known as a calf) which made me super sad when they were showing the slaughterhouses.

4. I LASTED LONGER THAN OPRAH AT BEING VEGAN.

5. I love cheese. I really, really love cheese. BUT I had no desire to eat any sort of meat today. Not even bacon. Weird. I know I will eventually eat it again (maybe not red meat?) but I didn’t crave it today (or all month for that matter) the way I thought I would.

So in conclusion, I’m happy with my decision. I loved the challenge of being vegan but I don’t care for the lifestyle.  However, I’m so glad I gave it a shot and would encourage others to do the same.

I’ll support you by baking vegan cookies whenever you want 🙂

Alright kids, it’s cold and I want to go snuggle with my baby cow dog:

Ahh look at his little squished up face!

Oh and one more thing! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for reading. Being able to write about this little challenge really helped me and provided a sense of motivation that I don’t think I would have had otherwise. Y’all rock–give yourself a pat on the back!

Oh, you’re single? Sorry about that.

27 Jan

If you’re my Facebook friend (and why wouldn’t you be?!) you may have noticed the status I posted a few days ago:

Sorry that’s a little small. But you get the idea.

This came about because I was tired of having this conversation with others.

Other person: So do you have a boyfriend? (or some variation of the question)

Me: Nope. (or some other variation of the word)

Other person: Oh man, I bet you hate Valentines Day! (no variation, that’s what they all say)

Then they look at me with pity. That’s the worst part. Ugh.

What part of me makes people think they need to feel bad about me? Do I have “I’m single and hate my life” stamped across my forehead?! If so, please tell me so I can go wash it off. Pronto.

I really didn’t want to have to use my precious blog to address this issue, but it seems I must since these conversations are happening with basically everybody I meet. Including my customers, who seem to care more about my “sad, pathetic, single life” than their quad-venti-light whip, extra stirred-mocha.

Sigh.

To put it simply, I do not hate Valentine’s Day. In fact, I LOVE Valentine’s Day.

This would be your time to gasp, clutch your heart and faint.

Are you better now? Did your significant other come help you off your floor? They did? Well, that’s sweet! Now you both can read.

I love it because it’s adorable. Red and pink! Balloons and flowers! Candy and chocolate! Adorable coffee mugs! Heart-shaped EVERYTHING!

I love it all. Especially the adorable coffee mugs. So much that my mom threatened to kick me out of the house if I bought one more. I’m willing to take my chances though since they’ll be going on clearance on Feb. 15 and I’ve had my eye on this one at work……anybody need a roomie? I might be in need of shelter soon.

Guess a boyfriend would come in handy then. Har har.

I’ll start off by admitting that I get why you would think I hate the holiday (and yes, I do kind of think it is a holiday). I see why you would imagine me sitting in my Snuggie on Feb. 14 elbows deep in a tub of frosting, watching “You’ve Got Mail”.

But that would imply that I don’t do that all the time. And since “You’ve Got Mail” has seen my DVD player at least 12 times this year, I can assure you that your implication is wrong.

But again, I understand why you would think that. I’m single. Without partner. All alone in this big wide world, with nobody to love me! Right?

Um, wrong.

Just because I listen to Taylor Swift doesn’t mean I lay in bed every night wishing I had someone to cuddle with. I mean, I listen to Weezy everyday too. Would you like to assume things about me based on that too?

Wait, don’t answer that.

The thing is, I’m the girl who watches “chick flicks” to feel happy. I love seeing two people fall in love. Other people being happy does not automatically mean I am not happy. Does that make sense?

Let me put it this way: Being single does not make me sad.

The humane society commercials make me sad.  Not seeing my family for months at a time makes me sad. Not seeing my best friend everyday makes me sad. Dropping a pan of cookies I just baked on the floor makes me sad. Very, very sad.

Being single makes me…well, single. That’s all. I’ve been single (almost) my whole life and I’m fine. Just fine.

If you want to worry about me, than go for it. That’s sweet. But don’t you dare feel bad for me. I won’t accept it. There are way more important things in this world for my family, friends (and random customers) to feel bad about.

I’m tired of others being surprised to find out I rarely date. What’s so damn surprising about it? There are plenty of people who don’t have dates lined up every weekend. Should we start a Singles Club? Maybe we can all hang out, hide, eat ice cream and feel bad about ourselves while our counterparts go out and show the world how in love they are.

First rule of Singles Club, don’t talk about Singles Club…

I like boys. I like dates. I love love. But I don’t need anybody to feel bad for me on Valentine’s Day, or any day for that matter.

How can you feel bad for me when I have friends that make me laugh:

A niece and nephew so cute they make my heart melt every time I look at them:

This big pile o’ love:

Cupcakes! (made by Jessica)

And, of course, mugs that look like this:

Truth: I showed you ALL those pictures just to have an excuse to put that mug up there. I’m completely obsessed.

So back to you, Mr. quad-venti-light whip, extra stirred-mocha, no I do not hate Valentine’s Day. Now go find yourself somebody else to pity.

Thanks.

I never looked good in a vest anyway

25 Jan

I was never a Girl Scout. I tried, but didn’t get in.

Actually I take that back. I never even got a chance to try and be a Girl Scout. I was rejected from Brownies, which I’m pretty sure is the forgotten half-sister to the Scouts.

My mom says it’s because I was too cute and they didn’t want the other girls to feel bad about themselves.

Gosh, I love her.

Even when she opens the door for the same organization that rejected her pride and joy. And then makes that pride and joy deal with the little girls (who were not rejected) because she can’t say “no”.

Well, guess what? Turns out I have the same problem. Wonder where I learned that?!

So even though I told her to not answer the door, she refused to listen to me. Mostly, she was upset that I was refusing to answer it myself.

Confession: I will go out of my way to not answer our door.

There’s no specific reason for this either. Sometimes I know we’re not expecting anybody and I don’t want to deal with door-to-door salespeople. Sometimes I just can’t handle the idea that I’d have to wrestle my 80-pound dog to ground while opening the door to keep him from escaping. And other times I’m convinced the craigslist killer is outside my door and I just don’t feel like dying that day.

My mom doesn’t seem to agree with all these theories I have. But she’ll be happy when I live a full life, that doesn’t result in a lifetime movie being made about me.

Did I mention that my dog goes crazy when he hears the doorbell? Yes? Well, allow me to mention it again.

Just as sure as I am about the craigslist killer showing up at my door, my dog is sure that two  little girls in vests are going to beat me up and take all my money. So when they showed up a few days ago, I had to put him in a headlock to keep him from trampling all over them.

Although, in actuality he seemed more excited than upset. I’m pretty sure he just wanted to jump in their wagon, eat all their cookies and take a nap. But who can blame him?

Those cookies are damn good.

I made the decision to buy some new ones they had so I wouldn’t be too tempted to eat them (vegan January, remember?). Normally I’m a Samoa girl, but I’m trying this new thing called “willpower” and it’s better if I don’t see Samoas for a while.

I can’t even remember what kind I bought now. They’re sitting in my pantry somewhere. Poor little cookies probably feel lonely with nobody to eat them.

The cookies I bought are the least of my problems now, though. The worst part is that I see those girls everywhere I go. Like, seriously, everywhere. A few have set up shop at the end of my street and hold up a box every time I drive past them. I saw a group outside Walgreens the other day, accosting innocent shoppers with their sweet smiles and sugary treats. And there’s a good chance they’ve been following me to work.

Oh, and today? Well today they were outside my gym.

You try lifting weights with visions of Thin Mints in your head.

It’s devils’ work, I tell you.

Just give up. They're going to catch you.

The Vegan Diaries: Um..

7 Jan

Soooo remember how last time we talked I was all “I don’t need no pizza!”

I mean, not in those words because I try to speak like a normal person as often as I can. But I did mention how not eating it wasn’t that hard, right?

Well roughly 14 hours after I posted that, I was singing a different tune.

I literally woke up needing pizza. Like I seriously opened my eyes in the morning thinking about it. I probably dreamed about it too, but I rarely remember my dreams. Unless they’re really weird, but sadly me dreaming about food isn’t that odd.

So I woke up and was all “If I don’t have pizza at least once today somebody is going to get hurt.”

Luckily I had pizza dough sitting in my freezer. A couple of months ago I was on this bread and pizza crust making kick and literally spent all my time kneading dough. Eventually my parents got sick of it and threatened to kick me out if I tried to make one more carb.

Obviously a lie, but they were tired of it. So my last batch went in the freezer.

Lucky for me AND the “somebody was going to get hurt” person. Don’t know who that might have been, but my money is on kid’s who keep rollerblading down my street with no regards to incoming cars.

I mean, seriously, are parents raising their kids to be idiots these days?

Back to the pizza. Since it was all rock-like (read: frozen) I set it on the counter and went on with my busy day.

And by busy I obviously mean I got my hair cut and then watched six episodes of Dexter. Sounds lazy, but I did finish season 2 without throwing up after seeing a lot of dismembered bodies which I think is an accomplishment in itself.

Also, the timing was perfect because as soon as I finished, my dough was ready for me. Let’s make pizza!

I’m going to save y’all the whole story of me actually making the pizza because it isn’t all that exciting, but let me just say this: I am a rockstar. And let me say one more thing: You don’t need cheese to make a rockstar pizza. I speak from experience.

When I’m all old and knocking on death’s door I can only imagine I’ll look back at this time and consider this meal one of my best. And hopefully my kid’s will cherish this recipe and pass it down generation after generation.

Unless, of course, I’ve raised my children to be idiots, in which case I’m counting on one of you to take them away from me. Really, it’s in their best interest.

Future problem children aside, this whole pizza thing was exciting for me. My mom was getting a little worried that we were going to run out of meals/food to make/eat which would result in us eating the same thing over and over again. This would, of course, result in us getting bored and inevitably we would end up face-down in a pile of pork.

And by “we” I obviously just mean “me”. Pretty sure my mom has self-control, especially when it comes to pigs.

Tonight we had homemade Chinese and it was delicious.

(Not So)Fun Fact: I’m totally allergic to nuts so I can’t eat at Chinese restaurants anymore since they cook everything in peanut oil. How lame is that? Good news is I can make a mean Orange Chicken myself.

I intend on doing just that on February 1. You are all invited, of course. It’s BYOC (Bring Your Own Chopsticks).

So we survived another day of veganism in this house. And now the only things I have left to worry about are waiting for season 3 of Dexter to arrive and not running over little kids in my neighborhood.

Life is good.

The Vegan Diaries: It begins…

2 Jan

This isn’t a New Years resolution. I haven’t really gotten around to those yet, I’m thinking I’ll schedule that sometime in March.

No, this is a “my mom is a ninja and can jedi mindtrick me into anything she wants.”

Vegan diet. One month. It’s on.

The reason we chose January is because we decided on this little challenge in December but I had already baked eight dozen cookies and I wasn’t about to not eat them. They deserve better than that!

So that brought us to the morning January 1st. The morning of all mornings. The day I woke up and promptly ate a delicious breakfast of………..bacon and eggs.

Whoops. My bad.

I swear I’m serious about this. I’m just serious about bacon too. Sorry I’m not that sorry. Also, don’t tell my mom.

All jokes aside, I am excited and nervous about this. Originally I agreed to support mom by going vegetarian while she ate her cheese-less sandwiches and drank her creamer-less coffee. I told her how I read a lot of vegan blogs and have checked out a lot of recpies that sound interesting. That of course turned into me drinking soy milk in my coffee and eating tofu over eggs.

Damn it, mom.

After the bacon breakfast, I officially got on track and had a vegetable wrap for lunch and falafels for dinner. They were good. I was good. And then I watched an episode of Dexter in which I completely missed out on an entire scene because I was literally staring at the layer of cream cheese in the FBI dude’s sandwich.

Seriously? This is going to be a long month. Stay tuned…

The Dos and Don’ts of Finals

10 Dec

Do ask your professor any questions you have before study days begin.

Don’t rely on help from other students via Blackboard

Do print out all your study guides, notes, etc.

Don’t think about all the trees that had to die for all your papers.

Do invest in paperclips!

Don’t highlight anything you won’t need to study for. It’s confusing.

Do drink coffee.

Don’t forget to make some for your parents, otherwise they will be upset.

Do go to Barnes and Noble if you can’t study at home anymore.

Don’t spend all your time there Tweeting about how your old tennis coach is sitting next to you.

Do get candy to munch on while studying. (Sugar is good for your brain, right?)

Don’t pull handfuls of gummy bears out of your purse randomly. People will stare.

Do realize you probably should have stayed home.

Don’t stay there for an extra hour because you don’t want the people around you to think you’re a failure.

Do quiz yourself while driving, cooking, showering, etc.

Don’t quiz yourself when your mom is watching Oprah. Whoops.

Do step away from the computer.

Don’t go sit in front of another computer.

Do schedule 10-minute breaks to check your email/Facebook/Twitter/Blogs

Don’t extend that 10 minutes to one hour.

Do study hard enough that you finish the test in 15 minutes,

Don’t sit around and wait for someone else to turn in the test so that you’re not the first one too. Totally unneccessary.

Do spend the night at your best friend’s place the night before your last final ever.

Don’t finish the “too strong” drink even if you feel bad. I mean, you do have a final the next day.

Do kick ass on your last final.

Don’t stare at the idiot who ruined your group presentation like you want to kick his ass. He will not appreciate that.

Do be concerned when that presentation grade turns out to be bad.

Don’t worry too much, all the A’s from the beginning of the semester will pay off.

Do be proud that you got through college.

Don’t tell everybody in your class that this is you “LAST FINAL EVER.” They won’t really care that much.