gorgeous and amazing May 24, 2008

Another reason why Coco Rocha is basically the best model ever:

“It’s all about the computer these days. People might look at a picture of me and say “Wow I wish I had her body”, but they should realise that I often look at a picture of myself and say, “Wow I wish I had that body.”‘ -The Daily Telegraph

i do not like… May 22, 2008

1. Guys with huge tattoos. Is a huge honking Celtic cross on your upper arm supposed to turn me on? Do you drive a truck for a living and expect me to care for your illegitimate children?
2. Guys doing girly things. Be a man please and stop using your AIM profile to declare your love. And stop trying to find the perfect stanza in the new Lifehouse song to express your undying love. Yes, we know you are getting some.
3. Guys wearing girl pants. It is simply unnatural.
4. Guys with cryptic text messages. I am the girl in this exchange (at least I am pretty sure I am…) so stop sending me double entendres. I know you are spending too much time thinking up ways to make me spend too much time making me think
5. Guys pretending that because they have different body parts makes them stronger all the time. I can lift a box too. Well, unless it’s really really heavy
6. There not being any cute guys around town. It is clearly unacceptable when you are twenty and single.

doctor’s visits, body wash, and a tux May 16, 2008

It was beautiful out today, sunny and 75 degrees. I didn’t have to work because I had doctor’s appointments. It was just two of them and it was going to be an amazing day. I should have known that my life is hilarious. So here it is:

• At doctor office #1 I have to put on a hospital gown. I turn around to take off my shirt and realize that my room has windows that overlook the parking lot. Later I have to take off my bra for an x-ray and have to crouch down on the floor.
• I go to pick up my brother’s tux from Men’s Warehouse for his prom that’s tomorrow night. This is the same place where I got hit on by a prep school boy yesterday. I go ask one of the sales people for the tux. She says to talk to Alex, the guy in the blue shirt. I don’t see any guy in a blue shirt. The tux lady gets mad and starts yelling, “Alex! Alex!” and pointing wildly at the at a rack of clothing. Suddenly, a guy in a blue shirt, Alex, emerges from behind the rack of clothing. I missed him because he was the exact size of the clothing rack.
• At doctor’s office #2 I was not prepared. The doctor decided that, though I had no idea how to play bridge, he was going to explain part of my symptoms to me in a bridge metaphor. I still have no idea what’s wrong with me.
• Apparently it is best to test someone with ear problems by shoving a device in their ear, a device that admits a high-pitched beep over and over again.
• I was accosted by several Bath and Body Works employees as I tried to get my favorite body wash. Apparently, if you are interested, there is a sale of 5 washes for $30. The very peppy sales associate felt it was her duty to remind me of this several times over. Oh and the body mist is 25% off too!

work it out May 14, 2008

I was on the elliptical at the gym. This gym is not my speed; it’s actually my mom’s gym and I slipped in by saying that I am going to buy a membership…eventually. I can’t belong to a gym because I look at fitness the same way I look at shopping at Wal-mart: only when necessary. I didn’t have my iPod and I tried in vain to find MTV, VH1. or E! on the miniscule tv attached to the machine but all I could do was flip from Rachel Ray’s 30 minute meals to Action 6 News. The machine had too many buttons so punched a few and lied about my weight and then started pedalling like I actually cared about working out. Some day my body is going to look really cellulite-y and then I’ll start to take this gym thing seriously, I swear.

I was on the elliptical for a good 15 minutes, half of the time I resolved for working out on that stupid machine. That was when the guy got on the machine next to me. He kept clearing his throat and stretching next to the machine for as long and as awkwardly as possible. I pretended that I didn’t notice. I was not there for bullshit, plus the old man to my left smelled rank and I was concentrating on only breathing out. Despite all my pretending I still managed to catch a glimpse of and have to admit he wasn’t bad looking but he wasn’t great looking. But I wasn’t here to meet a guy. He gets on the machine and obviously has no idea how to work it. He pretends like he is just trying to contemplate how hard he’s going to push himself and finally settles on pushing a few buttons on a time and then kicking his feet. Congratulations, you got the machine to work. He spends the next 15 minutes of my workout trying to get my attention without actually saying anything to me directly. He no doubt missed my pissed off face because he kept trying to smile at me. I was Monday night, I was not in the mood. Sometimes I am a grinch and can’t help it. I finally finished my work out and when I hopped off, he tried to discretely check out my backside. I mean, seriously?

This is my story of why the gym is the last place for me to meet guys.

ring, ring May 9, 2008

Guys make the phone a girl’s worst enemy and best friend all rolled into one. Back in the olden days, the days of Carrie Bradshaw when she still had a home on HBO, women waited for the call. Today it’s the call or the text message, which ever poison you chose. I always fall for the text message, and obviously the messager. Time and again, I find myself waiting for the annoying little ring that signals I have a text. I have been traumatized by one too many text messagers and the whole waiting game. One particular text messaging escapade has made it impossible for me to hear a certain galloping ring tone and not have my heart start racing. I wait and wait and wait to hear the ring, to feel the vibrate, or see the screen flash brightly so that I can flick open the phone and read the witty response. Or even if it’s less than witty (boys are so apt for a short and lame “k” or “sure” or the ever annoying, “what?”) it still makes my heart race. It’s like having the chase, only not face-to-face so sexy double entendres can be thought up.

I decided, against my better judgement, that the text message waiting problem would be better if I was talking to more than one guy. My logic was correct, it’s not quite as bad when you’re texting multiple guys. Obviously you feel in control. But then it becomes somewhat skewed when you are now waiting for more than one guy. Obviously the anxiety and waiting gets magnified.

My phone has become a drug. I have resorted to hiding it around my house so that I don’t check it every hour on the hour. So if you are trying to get a hold of me, blame the guys who have turned my phone into something not unlike crack.