I Be Illin'

You know what sucks about being mildly ill? Not much. You stay home from school/work, you pump fluids, you watch a lot of bad(ly awesome) tv and totally have an excuse for it. Sure, you're typically blowing your nose until you wish it would just fall off already, but it's not that bad.

On the other hand, you know what sucks about being ragingly sick, bone tired, racked with stomach pains (and other worse things I won't be getting into) and over CHRISTMAS BREAK and days away from a 4-hour roadtrip to a New Year's Eve party and wedding, no less? EVERYTHING.

To add insult to injury I went to the doctor this morning, which is one of the top ten least fun activities mankind has created. You go, sit in a germ-infested waiting room for 20 minutes, then you get weighed (which is actually a verified ancient torture method for females, I promise), then some overly chipper nurse makes you tell her all the embarrassing things going on inside your embarrassing body, then she pricks your finger and takes approximately a pint of blood one freaking drop at a time, then sticks 6-inch long Q-tips up your nose, then tells you to go pee in a cup (except you totally peed at home before you left so then you're in the doctor's bathroom and its super awkward and you're wondering if you should ask for some water to drink or what and just hoping they don't make you do it over again if the first sample was inadequate), then you have to wait some more and then the doctor - who you aren't sure is even a doctor or just a nurse - tells you you don't have the flu and it's probably just a stomach virus, but they aren't positive, so be sure to go to the emergency room over the weekend if it gets worse, that will be $25 thanks bye!

Sorry if that was too much information.

All of this is to say, being sick sucks.
And shitty general practitioners do too.

eHoarding

Before I came home, I got all my documents and songs and videos and pictures and Internet bookmarks transferred from my old computer to my fancy new one, and in doing so, I reaffirmed an fundamental truth about myself.

I am a minor-league hoarder.

I mean, I'm not going to be showing up on A&E anytime soon, but I definitely tend to keep things rather than throw them out.

I ran into them again a few months ago, before my mom and I threw a massive garage sale to raise money for my big move to Boston. I had kept the most random shit from my 22 years of live. What's worse, I had moved a lot of it here from Utah! There were things still in the moving boxes from eight and a half years ago, clearly untouched. I found newspaper articles from the 8th grade, books I hadn't looked at since the 5th grade and - worst, or perhaps best, of all - my Lisa Frank club binder from the 3rd grade.

(Don't worry, I took pictures for posterity before putting that thing out of its misery:)

The club rules as written by the club president ( I was totz VP)

Luckily, in the case of the garage sale my moneylust was just slightly higher than my desire to hoard and I cleaned out a LOT of stuff that I will never need or want ever again. Some trash, some donations and plenty of sales led to a much less stuff-laden Kathleen.

My hoarding tends to stem not from some psychological trauma or need, but from three basic rationalizations:
Rationalization 1: "What if I need it at some future point?"
Rationalization 2: "I paid good money for that."
Rationalization 3: "It's sentimental!"

But then there's ehoarding, and although rationalization #2 doesn't typically apply, there's a new problem: space. For physical things, I only have so much space, and I'm not into climbing over boxes and stacks of shit to get to my bathroom, so at some point that shit's gotta go. But on my computer and in my email, I can keep every document I could ever need (and many, many more that I don't), and it never feels like its taking up space.

But I know that in reality, it is. So I am making it my goal to keep this shiny beautiful computer clear of all the crap I kept stored on my last one. Starting with cleaning out over 15,000 pictures. From just the last three years. I KNOW. Ridiculous. Gots. Ta. Go.

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

 eleven advil tablets!

Today all I want is advil and water and sleep, because I am massively hung over due to hosting our family Christmas party which mostly ended up being mom and dad's friends circled up in the kitchen eating and chatting and the younger, Millsaps-slash-CHS academic team crew piling up on the couch and catching up while throwing back drink after drink but largely forgetting to eat, and also because I hadn't prepared anything for the eleventh day but I'm determined to try to get all these dang blog posts done because when I have an idea I stick to it, damn it, even when I really should have picked a holiday song with less numbers. 

Merry holidays and happy Christmas and peace on earth, y'all.

...ten finger puppets
nine awesome apps

eight catnip eyeballs

seven Anthropologie aprons

six fannypacks for your head

FIVE POTTER PRESENTS

four snuggie knockoffs

three Ed Hardy hookahs

two handerpants

and an ornament of yummy sushi

 Category(s): bleeerrrggghhh

On the Tenth Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

ten finger puppets!

Because just imagine the magnificent stories you could come up with involving broccoli, Bob Ross, a gnome, the Loch Ness Monster, a kitty cat, toast with grape jelly, Joan from Mad Men, a triceratops, baby Jesus in the manger, and Edgar Allen Poe + raven... I know! It's almost too good. 

...nine awesome apps

eight catnip eyeballs

seven Anthropologie aprons

six fannypacks for your head

FIVE POTTER PRESENTS

four snuggie knockoffs

three Ed Hardy hookahs

two handerpants

and an ornament of yummy sushi

 Category(s): ridiculous... ly awesome

(Find them HERE: broccoli, Bob, gnome, Nessie, kitty, toast, Joan, dino, Jesus, Poe)

these are my obsessions

[Please sing the title of this blog to the tune of Usher's "Confessions," preferably acappella.]

Oh em gee, y'all.

WHY was I not born with the voice I so clearly and desperately DESERVE?!?

I have recently become obsessed with the Sing Off, this totally underrated reality show where acappella groups compete for fame and glory and money, yadda yadda. It is SO GOOD. My parents and I have been watching it every night, marathon-style (thank you tiny baby Jesus for the wonders of Tivo) and tonight is the finale.

It started with ten groups, from the Whiffenpoofs of Yale fame (best. name. ever.) to these old guys that they keep harping on about being "legends" but really don't have the voices they had twenty years ago and they should have been eliminated the first day to these bros from the University of Oregon to this ballin' group

I haven't always agreed with the judging (see previous paragraph regarding old dudes) but overall I am super impressed with the groups left in the competition. Plus Ben Folds is on the judges panel, and his geeky, yet genius, insights are perfection.

What these people can do with their mouths is INCREDIBLE (not like that!! get your mind out of the gutter). They make it sound like an entire orchestra is onstage when there is not a single instrument present. There's drums and bass and layers and layers of singing and it is just so cool.

Like these adorbz bois from Huntsville:


And these guys, also holding it down for the south from Nashville:


And this group of energetic youngsters:


The third group also features this badass beat-boxing lady:


EDIT: Yay, Committed! They were super cute, all had great voices AND did a cover of "I Want it That Way" so clearly they were a great choice for the win!

Note: I don't know why the formatting of the videos and words together is so screwy :(

club Corinth: membership not granted

Every time I come back to Corinth, Mississippi, I always end up avoiding the "Corinthness" of it in one way or another. I choose to stay in and drink wine with my parents, or spend time with Brian and his family or party with other Millsapians who are also avoiding the Corinthness of our town.

It’s not because I don’t love Corinth, I do. Where else can you take ripped jeans into a little old lady and pick them up, patched wonderfully, less than 24 hours later? Where else can you go to a restaurant where the owner, chef and all the waitresses not only know your name, but also what you are going to order as soon as you walk in? Where else can you get a huge breakfast of homemade biscuits and sausage and eggs and coffee and more for under five dollars (as long as you have cash)?

Small town life in Mississippi definitely has its perks.

But it contains an interesting paradox. People here are the nicest you’ll ever meet, but they still won’t accept you as one of their own if you aren’t. There is a subtle yet overriding sense that we are outsiders here, even after almost nine years. We'll never quite escape the "You're not from around here, are you?" questions, the comments on our accent, the snubbing of honors that ended up going to less deserving, but Corinth born-and-raised, people (yes I still hold a small amount of bitterness from high school).

We’re not the right religion, our grandmas don’t live down the corner, we didn’t go to elementary school, high school and college with the same group of friends from birth, and we don't like collard greens. 

Who knows, maybe if we had made the decade mark we would be let into the mafia inner circle. But since I now call Boston home, and my parents are moving out of Mississippi in the new year, I guess we won’t find out.

Corinth has been a great place to live during high school and come back to from college. I made great friends, many of which I’ve sadly lost touch with over the years. I wouldn’t change living here. But when my parents move away and I no longer have a reason to call it ‘home,’ the feeling of being an outsider here won’t be anything new. 

On the Ninth Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

nine awesome apps!

By now, my true love's hard-earned bacon is getting spent pretty quickly, what with double slankets and cap sacs and Anthropologie aprons, so I'm going to give him a break on the ninth day and just get some apps. Because in this age of technological over-saturation (my favorite topic), I can't ever have too many things available to me at the touch of a button.

just a sampling

So let's see what we have here:
Echofon for Twitter: I tweet, therefore I am
Plants vs. Zombies: killing zombies, all day erry day
LOLcats: guilty
Bergdorf Goodman's Today's Shoe: show me the pretty
New York Times: keeping up with the homeworks
TV Guide: for seeing when Jeopardy is on
Hey Tell: walkie talkies are only slightly cooler
IMDb: reading about every movie I've ever seen, and several I haven't
Mobile RSS: so I can catch up on my blogz, anytime, anywhere

...eight catnip eyeballs

seven Anthropologie aprons

six fannypacks for your head

FIVE POTTER PRESENTS

four snuggie knockoffs

three Ed Hardy hookahs

two handerpants

and an ornament of yummy sushi

 Category(s): awesome

(Find them HERE)

adventures with kittens: flying high

Hello from 36,000 feet!

I'm sitting here on a plane, with my kitteh on my lap, my man next to me, a whiskey and cranberry in my hand (that only cost $1.29! Whauuuuuut?*) and no exams to speak of. Today is a good day.

But getting to this point has been quite the adventure. I had an exam Wednesday morning, turned my final project in that afternoon, went to a job interview, met some other TAs for a group grading party, took my computer to the Apple store** and then numbly ate Special K for dinner while staring at CSI. All this after less than four hours of sleep. So Thursday rolled around and I had one day to clean, pack, get Penny ready and do a hundred other menial things to be ready to get to this moment. Long story short, at about midnight-30 I was panicking about everything left on my (lengthy) to-do list and Brian was wishing I'd chill the hell out and Penny was wondering what in the world all those suitcases were for and why I kept trying to get her to enjoy sitting in a little teeny carrier.

To those that know me, it's needless to say that I spent most of the night making lists in my head and trying to remember not to forget stuff and worrying about how my lil girl was going to survive her first flight.

But somehow, we made it through the last-minute packing craziness (including switching everything from my suitcase into a whole new one because I clearly need all seven pairs of these shoes and, even after laying on it, there was no way that sucker was going to zip), the carrying a pet onto the T craziness (of course we got on it at the same time as 854247996 cynical Bostonians on their way to work) and the security craziness (Penny did NOT enjoy having to leave her carrier and go through the metal detector with deafening noises and chaotic smells everywhere)... and here we are.

Thanks for the free wi-fi Delta, and here we come Mississippi!!

* We definitely brought our own mini bottles of booze, put them in the plastic baggie of liquids and security waved it on through. Genius.
** Yes, I have finally joined the ranks of the tech-savvy, Mac-obsessed generation! Think my students will think I'm cool now?

On the Eighth Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

eight catnip eyeballs! 

Of course there has to be at least one present for lil Penny! And when shopping for this discerning fluffball, catnip is key. She is obsessed with the catnip-filled mouse toys she currently has, and performs leaps and bounds and acro-cat tricks while chasing them around the apartment (see video).

But mice are passe. I can't wait to see her batting, gnawing on and running after EYEBALLS. There's nothing cuter than that, am I right?

this cat wishes he was as cute as Penny

this cat wishes he was with a cat as cute as Penny

...seven Anthropologie aprons

six fannypacks for your head
FIVE POTTER PRESENTS
four snuggie knockoffs

three Ed Hardy hookahs

two handerpants

and an ornament of yummy sushi

 Category(s): ridiculous (and a little awesome)

(Find it HERE)

On the Seventh Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

seven Anthropologie aprons!

click to see all the glorious details

Who WOULDN'T want to spend the day cooking delicious yum yumz if they got to do it wearing such beautiful aprons? And with so many different gorgeous designs*, you can get one for each day of the week!

Or conversely, you could get one for each of the seven dishes you know how to make. In my case, I would have an apron each for quiche lorraine, lasagna, pancakes, potatoes au gratin, eggs (in omelette or fried form), cupcakes... and cereal. That cereal 'pron would get quite the workout.

I actually do love to cook and host parties and have an apron that I wear as I prance around the kitchen pretending to be a grown-up. I love pouring a glass of wine and cooking a real dinner for Brian when he comes home. It's my secret Stepford split personality. Unfortunately grad school (and the absurd amount that I procrastinate for grad school) typically keeps me from doing such cooking. Instead, I'm usually throwing a frozen pizza in the oven while wearing a sweatshirt and the same jeans I've had on for a week and trying to figure out how to turn two pages of quotes into three pages of a profile.

Which is why I need one (or a week's worth) of these beauties. Hell, I might even learn to cook more than seven things. 

...six fannypacks for your head
FIVE POTTER PRESENTS
four snuggie knockoffs

three Ed Hardy hookahs

two handerpants

and an ornament of yummy sushi

 Category(s): awesome

(Find them HERE)

* Of course Anthropologie would make aprons prettier than most of the dresses I own. Damn them.

On the Sixth Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

six fanny packs for your head!

Few know this about me, but I am an ardent supporter of the fanny pack. Life would be so much easier if fanny packs were socially acceptable. I think about this all the time. So imagine my surprise and joy the day I discovered THESE exist. The "cap sac." Tagline? A fanny pack for your head.

Yes, that's right. A fanny pack for your head.

Doesn't it sound just glorious?

So if you haven't figured it out, the front there unzips to hold cell phones, money, cameras... Anything you'd need at DisneyWorld, basically. And check out how many colors there are! I already got one for all the members of my zexy sistah family (spoiler alert!) and there's still like NINE more colors available.

I can't wait to carry my important items around in a sassy red fanny pack... FOR MY HEAD. 

...FIVE POTTER PRESENTS

four snuggie knockoffs

three Ed Hardy hookahs

two handerpants

and an ornament of yummy sushi

 Category(s): AWESOME

(Find it HERE)

adventures with kittens: puppy love?

I believe Penny thinks she is a dog.

And sometimes a meerkat.
And sometimes a raccoon.
And sometimes a human.

But mostly a dog. Besides chasing her own tail and sleeping with her tongue out, one weekend while I was in NYC, Brian taught her to play fetch and now it is her favorite game EVERRRRRR.

Observe:





I have the best cat in. the. world.

P.s. Check out our Christmas tree! We decorated it with ornaments from the dollar store, ribbon and ornaments we made out of construction paper. And no, none of those things are reasons to pity it. It is awesome. (Except when Penny knocks it over and/or breaks the things on it).

P.p.s. That really angry sound you hear in the first video is our heater. The joys of living in a 100-year-old Boston brownstone.

On the Fifth Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me
FIVE POTTER PRESENTS!!

There are 23 pages of (just movie related) merchandise on Warner Brother's gift shop, plus the countless other Harry-centric sites, which means there is a ton of cheesetastic Harry Potter merchandise out there.

for example, this is a HAT, y'all

But since it would be impossible to pick only five absurd things, here are five things I actually think are really cool and would unashamedly would wear and/or use and/or drink out of:

Represent.

I don't think this (the necklace, not the book) necessarily screams Harry Potter... at least, not to the 2% of the world who haven't read the books or seen the movie.

I need to drink my butterbeer coffee out of this mug. It changes colors when you pour something hot into it!

If I can't "accio" my groceries back to the apartment, at least I can carry them in this bag.

I actually think this Horcrux ring is really funky/cool/pretty. Say what you want about Slytherin, he's got taste. 

...four snuggie knockoffs

three Ed Hardy hookahs

two handerpants

and an ornament of yummy sushi

 Category(s): awesome

[Find them HERE: shirt, necklace, mug, bag, ring]

P.s. Oh em gee, y'all, I haven't gotten around to posting about HP7.1, but it was SO so good. 

Bubba Gump Turkey Co.

In the days since we cooked up a giant-ass bird for Thanksgiving, Brian and I have been slowly working our way through the leftovers.

There were the favorites, which went fast:
We finished off the sausage balls in days. The mashed potatoes and peas were scraped out over the weekend. The pie has only the tiniest of slivers remaining. The cranberry sauce is only still around because I insisted on getting four cans (I tried to get even more, but Brian stopped me).

And then there are the forgottens:
I found the gravy today hiding in the back of the fridge where it had reached a level of gelatinous-ness that I am thoroughly uncomfortable with. The chicken and dressing also got tossed.

But its the turkey we've really had to get creative with.
We've had turkey, straight up.
Turkey sandwiches.
Turkey quiche.
Turkey omelettes.
Turkey stew.
Turkey cold.
Turkey hot.
Turkey on it's own.
Turkey in other things.
Turkey popsicles.

Okay, okay, no turkey popsicles... But we're not out yet.

study break

I am ten days, six classes, fifty minutes of teaching, one final edit of a profile piece,1,500 words of a feature article, one exam and untold hours of grading 21 papers away from being completely done with my first semester of graduate school.

This means one thing.

I cannot concentrate for more than an hour at a time on anything scholarly.
Seriously, the closer I get to finally being done, the less motivation I have to do anything. (Anything, that is, except surf etsy and facebook and amazon and youtube.) If you, too, need a massive distraction a short study break, feel free to peruse some of my favorites below:











The last option isn't as entertaining, but is extremely worthwhile and will probably make you cry.

for the love of the game?

As the roommate and ladyfriend of a true sports fanatic, I know a bit about sports. I spend most Sundays these days watching being in the room while Brian watches the NFL, I know what a "spread" is, I often inquire about how Brian's fantasy teams are doing... I even read sports blogs now and again.

And I get the allure of sports, I really do. Before any sports-crazed readers (do I have any of those?) come after me, let me say that I absolutely think sports is a worthy and valuable part of society* and I don't think that should be diminished.

But two things I will never get, or be able to support, are the money and the egos.

I don't understand how someone can make tens of millions of dollars a year and still say they "need" more. They "deserve" more.

People say that players should get paid that much because they bring in that much. I don't believe that. I think it's an insanely greedy catch-22. People are willing to pay, so owners and companies and players and everyone else involved get greedy and charge more and more. But people are willing to pay, so...

So $10 million stadiums are built and ticket prices skyrocket to pay it off. Let's not even get into how much a beer and a hot dog will run you these days. Before you know it, you've spent easily over $400 - and that's for nosebleed seats.

It makes me kind of sick, actually. And sad.

I'm sad that in another generation or so, only the extremely wealthy will even be able to consider going to see a professional game live. I'm sad that a kid who can kick, throw or dunk a ball well makes many times as much money as the researchers out there working every day to cure disease or work towards peace or help the homeless/impoverishes/sick/underprivileged. I'm sad that the real spirit of sports is increasingly being lost in personal drama (OMG Tiger Woods), fan anger drama (OMG Lebron James), ego-the-size-of-the-moon-drama (OMG Cam Newton), steroid abuse drama (OMG every baseball player out there today), and all the other ridiculous drama "news" surrounding the players, the teams, the owners, etc.

Where's the love, people?

* Particularly when compared with pop culture tidbits such as Bridalplasty.

On the Fourth Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

four Snuggie knockoffs! 

Me: We look goooooood!
Brian: What? I can't hear you over my embarrassment.
Penny: ZZZzzzzzzz

I know, I know. You didn't think the Snuggie could be topped, did you? It's a BLANKET with SLEEVES, y'all. What could be better than that? Well I'm not sure, but these four manufacturers gave it a try. 

#1. The Double Slanket (see above). What couple DOESN'T need a giant blanket with two sets of sleeves to make it easier to feed each other chocolate covered strawberries (or more likely in this apartment, pounds and pounds of chips & dip) whilst staying super toasty warm?!? Take it from someone who is always cold and spends the majority of life under quilts of various sorts, I can't imagine anything more romantic in the whole world than the Double Slanket.*

#2. The Thuggie.

For those that are too street and/or hood and/or gangsta for the original Snuggie. Sponsored by the Fresh Prince of Bel Air.** My favorite thing about the Thuggie is that the website describes it as a "pants optional" garment. My second favorite thing is that they make mini versions called "Thuglettes" which are tiny and adorable:

#3. The Musuc Bag.

I don't know what "musuc" is supposed to describe, but possibly it is trying to market this to those who live in subartic Russia? I can't imagine wearing a jumpsuit-slash-sleeping bag, but I assume it's pretty warm. And comfy. And bonus! In the Musac Bag, you don't look like you belong in a full Baptist choir. Yay!***

#4. The Snuggie for Dogs.

Okay, so this is technically an actual Snuggie, not a knockoff. But its still absurd. The whole idea behind the Snuggie is that you can wear it to stay warm but also use your hands. DOGS ALREADY HAVE COATS. DOGS DON'T HAVE HANDS. DOGS DON'T NEED SNUGGIES.**** Really, these are just fleece t-shirts and/or capes and will cause your canine to be mocked by all the others at the dogpark. Don't make your pup be "that dog."

Also, I just have to add, the wikipedia page for "sleeved blanket" is hiLARious and insightful.

...three Ed Hardy hookahs

two handerpants

and an ornament of yummy sushi

 Category(s):  ridiculous

[Find them HERE: Double Slanket, Thuggie, MusucBag, Pet Snuggie]

* I can.
** It's not, but it should be.

*** That doesn't mean you look good, however. 
**** Snuggles, maybe. But that's a different post altogether.

P.s. Shoutout to Rachel Brooks for first introducing me to the Thuggie! 

On the Third Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

three Ed Hardy hookahs!

red, white and blue - as Amurrican as apple pie and baseball, by damn

Oh god.

Do people still buy Ed Hardy gear? I thought Jon Gosselin had made the brand synonymous with "douchebags" (the only good thing he ever did for society)... Regardless, this might be the worst of all the terrible things Ed Hardy has ever inflicted on the world. I can't even adequately write about it. Let's let the website description speak for itself, shall we?

Ed Hardy's art surrounds the water-bowl. Quickly the tempo of the Hookah builds up across small shades of art cutting across the Hookah's body-sparkle A third up the Hookah throat on the disco-ball are beautiful snippets of Ed Hardy's art. This art enters the Ash balcony constructed of glass. The Hookah is topped by a Beautifully shaped and smoothed Tobacco head. The Lightweight and aerodynamic hose is lightly touched with glittery-impressions running down the hose and then with its Ultra durable and flexible frame shapes itself across the Hookah's body.

Okay now stop. Read that again.

Just so you know, that is all copy and paste. I did not change a bit of that account. And you're not reading it wrong. It really does say: "small shades of art" "body-sparkle" "beautiful snippets of Ed Hardy's art" and "lightly touched with glittery-impressions."

Ignoring the blatant disregard for common grammar and capitalization, the fifth-grade adjectives, the awkwardly sexual nature of the description.... no, actually, you know what? This PERFECTLY encapsulates the Ed Hardy hookah.

...two handerpants

and an ornament of yummy sushi

Category(s): ridiculous, WTF

[Find them HERE]

family food fun!!

Oh my god you guys. I am SO full. I think I'm leaving Thanksgiving week behind me approximately 63 pounds heavier. Instead of going home (other home at least), this year my parents came to our new home in Boston and we literally just ate, drank and played with Penny for four days straight. It was glorious.

And although it was weird not to put up our usual Christmas tree while listening to carols (that is, if you call Celine Dion Christmas, "carols"), it was still a fully holiday-y holiday.

[Sidenote, here is an actual conversation that occurred on Thanksgiving morning as we waited for Nancypants and Russbuckets to arrive and begin the festivities
Me, excited: Babe! Starting at 5:00 today we can start listening to Christmas songs!!
Brian, not as much: No we can't. I'm not listening to Christmas songs until Thanksgiving is officially over.
Me: Babe! Starting at 5 a.m. tomorrow we can start listening to Christmas songs!!!!!
Brian: I hate you.*
*He didn't say this, it just sounds more dramatic. He actually said some nonsense about you can't listen to Christmas tunez until December or some such thing. I called foul and immediately began downloading the Glee Christmas album.
Sidenote over.]

But I have a lot to be thankful for.

I live in an awesome, bustling, cool city with my best friend, who has been known to bring me not only an open beer but also a purring kitten (I know!) while I watch tv on my computer in my pajamas.

I have parents who stock up my cabinet with wine - much more than enough for just Thanksgiving weekend so I can have some after they leave (you guys are the best, Momsy and Popsicle).

I have friendys all over the U.S. who I am lucky to miss so much.

I have some amazing, beautiful sistahs (Bonnie, Anne, Allie and the newbies) who are going to bring me some incredible souvenirs from India (right? RIGHT?!?!?!?!).

I have a tiny tiny kitty who is sleepy and sweet and adorable and playful.

And much more, yadda yadda I am thankful blah blah blah. Let not get too mushy here.

But really. I am.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

 

This, my friends, is quite possibly the most ridiculous recipe I've ever seen. If you can't tell, that is two layers of turkey with a layer of stuffing in between, mashed potato "icing" and candied yams on top. Yes, it is a Thanksgiving CAKE. So if you're looking for a way to spice up your leftovers, the recipe can be found at here!

And now, if you'll excuse me, I must go fall into a tryptophan coma. Cheers!

On the Second Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

 two handerpants!

Let's just read how these gems are described by the website, shall we?

"Crafted in breathable 95% cotton, these cosy, palm-protecting undercrackers absorb sweat and prevent chafing, and can be worn alone (but with the rest of your clothes on, obviously) or underneath gloves, making them ideal for all kinds of tasks, from typing and lifting weights to doing jazz hands at improv shows and pretending your fingers are hunky Calvin Klein models. They really are total pants." 

First of all, what the hell is an undercracker??
Second of all, who would EVER wear these?
Third of all... just why. Why. Why???

...and an ornament of yummy sushi

Category(s): dumb, WTF

[Find it HERE]

missing Millsaps

Lately I've been thinking about Millsaps. A lot.

I miss the instant access of having all my best friendys at my fingertips. For four years I only had to go next door, down the hall or at the most to a building 100 feet away in order to spend time with all my favorite people.

Every weekend was a party (often involving costumes, heaven). Every meal was a chance to catch up with my friends. Every class was an opportunity to exchange thoughts and opinions with people that I respected.

Tait was always there to watch Harry Potter and craft and drink wine. Bonnie was always there to work out, hit the caf, procrastinate in the English house or get dolled up together. Molly was always there to pre-party for any and every occasion. So many friendys meant so many different things to me it would be pointless to try to name them all individually. CMO was there to dance and gossip and laugh. Kappa Delta was there for swaps, formals and post-chapter dinners. Lambda Chi Alpha was there for parties, games and movie nights. Of course Brian was always there, for everything.

And he still is. I love that we get to have this Boston adventure together. I love that we get to figure out how to be adults (and sometimes rebel against adulthood) together.

But that doesn't mean I don't miss the other parts of my old life.

I enjoy BU and I like the friends I've made, especially through being a TA, and I really want to get better at my chosen field... but sometimes I think perhaps I should have taken a gap year or two. It's really weird, and hard too - unexpectedly so - to be technically in college but to feel so disconnected from the whole experience. I think if I had a year in between the feeling wouldn't be so... raw. At Millsaps we worked hard, but we played hard too. Having such close friends around made the work seem easy - or if not easy, then easier. The absence of those connections here makes the work feel so much harder, even when its not.

Then again, I've heard from others that going straight into grad school and knocking it out is the best way to do it. So maybe its just a grass-is-greener kind of thing. Which just makes me think of KD, and the wave of nostalgia washes over me again. Sigh.

On the First Day of Christmas

It's that time again... time to begin planning, purchasing and packaging the best presents I can possibly procure (suck on THAT alliteration!). Yes, that's right, its beginning to feel a lot like Christmas. And I know it's not even Thanksgiving yet, but let's face it, most stores started stocking Christmas merchandise the minute temperatures got below 72*, so I'm just not fighting it this year. In the spirit of gift giving and receiving, over the next month and a half I will be counting down some of the most ridiculous, dumbest, WTFiest and/or most awesome things the internet has to offer, Christmas-carol style. Here we go!

On the first day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
an ornament of yummy sushi!

There are lots of traditions around Christmas, from the time the tree goes up (the day after Thanksgiving, without fail) to what we eat Christmas morning (coffee cake, which is prepped before any gifts get opened and then cooks during the unwrapping bonanza and then is eaten as we sit amid piles of paper and bows and shiny new presents) to certain gifts we get. It is a tradition in my family to get a new ornament, or two, or five, each year commemorating something special that happened that year - some big occasion or fun family trip or life-changing event. Over the years, this has turned our tree into a quirky, colorful hodgepodge of memories. Decorating the Christmas tree each year is like taking a little trip through time. As I hang each one, I remember visiting the Monterey aquarium or joining the basketball team that one year or starting school at Millsaps or all the fun I’ve had with my sorority family.

With all that has occurred this year, there are a plethora of ornament options. Graduating college, moving to big city Boston, starting grad school at BU – I’m sure one of these will result in another ornament to add to the tree and every year hereafter when I nestle it among the branches, I will remember this year.

But you know… sometimes a girl just wants some sushi. Because sushi is awesome.

Category(s): awesome (obviously)

[Find it HERE]

* Except for the Hobby Lobby in Jackson, MS, which already had at least three aisles of Christmas decorations up in July. 

hibernation nation

Well, here we are. It’s officially that time of the semester where the weather, my motivation level and the time change all intersect, causing my urge to hibernate to skyrocket.

Living in Mississippi for the last several years, my hibernation instinct never really came out due to the weather staying absurdly warm (on and off at least) until January. But last fall I spent the semester in Ireland and it emerged full-force. I would leave an afternoon class in the pitch-dark and all I could do was retreat into my little room in our apartment to eat special k and watch tv on my computer.

Here in Boston I find myself succumbing to it again. November rolled around, the temperatures dropped, it started getting dark at 4:30 (thanks a LOT, daylight savings) and now all I want to do is stay home and hide with Pennycat under the fluffiest comforter I can find.

It’s just so much WORK. Getting dressed no longer involved throwing on a cute dress and Toms and running out the door with wet hair. Cute dresses would cause my skin to freeze and possibly shatter like ice. Toms must be worn on top of thick woolen socks, largely altering their entire fit. Wet hair will cause me to immediately contract pneumonia and spend the next (and last, obviously) 48 hours of life sneezing and coughing and wishing I had taken time to put a hat on… Put away is the sorority uniform of Nike shorts and large tshirts. Put away are the strappy sandals and jorts and tank tops and other things that can be described as "easy breezy."

Instead I must take the time to blow dry my hair, find approximately 43920480 layers to put on until the only skin visible is from my eyebrows to my chin and shuffle out, alternating between sweating inside and shivering outside. It's MUCH easier to just remain in my jammies, moving as little as possible to avoid allowing any of the warmth in my little cocoon to escape.

Here’s the thing... I really do like cold weather. Growing up in Utah instilled in me a love of crisp, snowy days where everything is blanketed in white and kind of soft and muffled. A snowy winter wonderland is one of the most beautiful sights to me.

But until I see some snow on the ground rather than this wind, cold rain, bluster and general dark/damp depressingness, you can find me under the covers, eating toaster waffles to fatten up before falling asleep for the next three months.

Note: I wrote most of this post yesterday when it was dreary and rainy and somewhat terrible. Today it is sunny and almost even warm (almost) and I feel kind of dumb posting this even though my overall opinion hasn't changed. Mother Nature is laughing somewhere, like "You want to bitch about ME on your blog?!? Suck on this! And tomorrow its going to be 40 degrees and sleeting! And then perhaps the next day I'll send some 90 degree weather and you can sweat to death in your  non-AC-equipped apartment!! Hahahahhaha! You SHOULD feel dumb!"

Sex Ed

This past weekend, three of my closest friends and I went to a sex museum in NYC. For scholarly reasons.

No, really.

Allow me to explain.

Although I was an English major in college, I was an “everything else” minor. I took random classes in nearly every discipline, from math to chemistry to fine art, and although I loved my major, some of these random classes ended up being some of my favorites. One such class was a Philosophy course called Sexual Ethics.

I took the class with the same three friends I was with this weekend (one of whom was a Philosophy major and encouraged us to take the class because of her love of the professor who taught it*). Sexual Ethics was one of the best classes I took all four years of my undergraduate career, not just for the ample quotes it provided my inner twelve-year-old boy to snicker at, but because it was a legitimately fascinating, difficult, scholarly course that taught me to think in a different way about people, gender, relationships, the law and life.

But it’s my bestie Tait who provides what is probably my favorite memory of the class. Never one to waste ink or page space, Tait simply wrote “sex” in her planner every Tuesday and Thursday along with the other classes she was taking that semester. One day in a sorority chapter meeting, Mary Mitchell Williams saw Tait flipping through her planner, leaned over and whispered, “Do you schedule sex?!”

At Millsaps, I guess you never know.

* Who happens to be bald, gay and a complete genius.

Sandwiches I Have Loved

According to some food thing I follow on Twitter (clearly, a reliable source), today is National Sandwich Day. And you know what? I LOVE SANDWICHES.

So to honor this illustrious day, let’s go on a journey of discovery through my sandwich past.

The PB&J: The first sandwich to enter my repertoire was the pb&j, which I ate plenty of because I was quite possibly the pickiest child alive. However, even though my taste buds have matured, I still get a hankering for this classic, especially because I have now discovered the trick of toasting the bread, which makes the peanut butter gooey and the bread crunchy.

(Let it be known that my mom, whose age shall remain undisclosed, still eats a pb&j at least three times a week, and more when my dad travels and she doesn’t feel like cooking. Multi-grain bread, Skippy peanut butter and boysenberry Smuckers jam. Like clockwork.)

Sometimes it may be substituted by a PB&H (peanut butter and honey), which my dad prefers to elevate by whipping the two ingredients together into a somewhat fluffy substance - bananas optional.

The Bologna: I’m pretty sure I was the only one who EVER got the bologna sandwich in the Kava house on Fridays and I’m pretty sure I never want to find out how it is made/what’s in it and I’m pretty sure people judge me for this… but I harbor a secret love for bologna.

The Fried Egg: This sandwich may just have single-handedly kept me alive in Ireland, where deli meat was either hella expensive or sketchy at best and I had to walk half a mile to take a bus the rest of the few miles and carry all my groceries that whole way and I only had one shelf and approximately six square inches of fridge space in which to store my food and had access to very few cooking materials and, well, half the time I didn’t feel much like making something all that complex.

So I made a LOT of fried egg sammies. It was always best on toasted bread, with mayo (and if I was feeling crazy, some cheese). The egg should be fried just to a point where the yolk is still a tiny bit runny, so it kind of oozes everywhere when you cut it and you can soak it all up with the bread. That is such a gross image, but it is so so yummy.

The Steak: The ideal leftovers ‘wich. Take a quality steak cooked medium rare, throw it in the fridge overnight, bust it out at lunchtime, slice it thin, add bread (preferably crunchy and/or soft dinner rolls) and cheese and mayo and enter sandwich bliss.

This sandwich tastes the best when it has been put together by my dad. There have been scientific studies that prove this irrefutably. 

The Bagel: Perfection. While bagels might have 8952300932 more calories than normal sandwich bread, they are also 949328743820 times better. There are breakfast bagels, with egg, sausage and cheese – delicious. There are deli bagels, with meat and cheese and veggies – scrumptious. But the pinnacle of bagel goodness is also the simplest. Toasted with cream cheese – perfection, for breakfast, lunch or dinner (or possibly all three – I’m not above it).

The Turkey: I make turkey sandwiches the most often these days. In addition to making them for myself, on the days Brian has to work I wake up sometime between 5:45 and 6:30 (depending on how on-time Brian is running), shuffle around in my pajamas and crazy slept-on hair, mumble incoherently and carefully make a turkey and havarti cheese sandwich to send Brian off with before crawling back into bed and resuming unconsciousness for another hour or two. Turkey, the sandwich of love.

God I’m hungry now.

Project Crackway

I, like everyone else in the world*, am appalled at the outcome of the latest Project Runway. Specifically appalled that the judges were smoking crack the level of which made them name Gretchen, not Mondo, the winner. Not because I think Gretchen is a bitch (I mean, I don't not think it, but that's not why I'm appalled), or because she is a terrible designer... It's because LOOK AT THESE CLOTHES:

 

 

Mondo, you fabulous little sprite. I would wear any of these clothes and probably anything else you put your genius hands to. Gorgeous. Love the shapes, loooove the black and white patterns, love the sparing use of color. I even love the hair and makeup (those lashes!!). 

Now look at THESE clothes. Gretchen made what looks, to me, like pajamas. 

jammies

ugly jammies

jammies with a jacket on top

I would love to lay around the apartment eating Chex Mix and watching Jeopardy in these, but I would never wear them in public anywhere. The only look of Gretchen's I reeeeallly like is this one:

But I would like it even better in a graphic, black and white print... aka Mondo-ized. (Also, give me that model's hair).

So yes, Gretchen's clothes were well made and I wish the best for her, but they were in no way exciting and breathtaking and wearable and clever and fun the way Mondo's were. The judges had decided before the runway shows who was going to win, and they argued themselves in circles trying to make it work. The shit they said in praise of the winning line were things that were criticisms in almost every previous season. A lot of people in the blogosphere have been shouting that they will NEVER WATCH THE SHOW AGAIN!!!!! I'm not saying that, but I do think the things that made Project Runway great in its beginning seasons are being smothered by producer interference and shoddy, inconsistent judging. Please put the drugs down, PR, and maybe I'll tune back in. 

* Everyone else who watches Project Runway and has taste, that is.

(All photos stolen from courtesy of Tom and Lorenzo.)

Harry -- I mean, Happy November!

I can't believe Halloween is already over, which means the holiday trifecta is one-third behind us. But I guess the Earth spins on, so let's continue looking forward, shall we?

November typically is the month of delicious whole turkeys and even delicious-er leftover turkey sandwiches and imbibing and family and eating until you want to die. However, this November, something takes precedent.

HARRY POTTER

Which is why I will be watching this and various other trailers between one and one hundred times per day until November 19:



Holy shit, goosebumps every time.

Happy Halloween!

 

from Joan Holloway, Roger Sterling, Don Draper and Penny (of course).

Costumes of Halloweens Past, part 3

a whole lotta cute

We're going back again, all the way to pre-kindergarten. I was the flower girl in my aunt's wedding earlier that fall and - never one to waste* - I decided to wear the dress again to be a bride for Halloween. Look at how adorable tiny me and all my tiny friends are!

Okay, don't I look different in this picture? Why do I suddenly look approximately two years older? Or am I just crazy?

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I tried to convince my brother to be a groom** so we'd be matching... but he probably scoffed at me and went as a cowboy or something.

One thing I am sure of, thought, is that I had to be really pissed at my mom for making me wear that turtleneck to go trick-or-treating. I didn't CARE that we lived in Salt Lake City and it was October and probably between 30 and 40 degrees, MOM! I wanted to wear that thin satin dress without a dumb turtleneck, dammit! Willing to suffer for fashion at an early age.

Also, check out my stick-on earrings. I was obsessed with stick-on earrings back in the day. I can't even tell you how many of those big sheets with a pair for every day of the month we bought. My childhood best friend maintained throughout our whole friendship that the first words I said to her, in pre-kindergarten, were "I have prettier earrings than you." And yes, I was referring to my stick-on jewels. Now, I personally don't recall this event ever taking place, but she swore by the story.

God, what a Bridezilla.

* This is a lie, particularly when it comes to clothes. I (okay, my mom) bought a lot of fugly shit back in the day that I really wanted at first and then wore once before realizing it was fugly shit. But I'm better now. And I'm sorry, mom and dad, for how much money my poor taste cost over the years.

** I was like four, people! Okay, yeah, it's still kind of weird.