December 2011
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I like that I have just enough time in my life to sit down with a spoonful of ice cream and watch 20 minutes of Harry Potter before I need to go to sleep in order to arise for work in the morning. My life during Christmas break rules. Hard.
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“…But for now, you are fourteen, you wear buns on the side of your head,...”
– hellogiggles.com (Alessandra Rizzotti, ‘14 Was A Rough Age’)
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I'm so nervous about next Wednesday I can't even...
Yeah, it’s JUST a meeting with my District Manager, but this is going to be the meeting that determines whether or not I’m going to have a job upon moving back to St. Louis. My manager is under the impression that I’m going to be offered a position as a manager of the new store we’re opening in Bangor as a measure to keep me in the district; and while I would love the job,...
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I turn into a five year old girl when I buy new...
I have to wear them around all the time before I go out in public, including right before bed.
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Finally,
I could make do forever without those chocolates housing liquidy caramel inside of them. GIVE ME ALL THE FRUIT-FLAVOR-CREME-FILLED-CHOCOLATE!
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Dear Jenn,
I’m sorry that I’m attempting to convince your husband to legitimately pee his pants as demonstrative elation toward his Christmas presents. However, if he DOES do it, please take a video recording.
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As I read through posts I’ve left on other friends’ walls, I wonder if their friends that I don’t know read what I’ve written and think to themselves, ‘Could she GET any more pretentious, throwing around five-dollar words like she’s got money to spare?”
I promise, I just have a vast vocabulary.
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As much as I love new scarves, I hate new scarves for the first week or so of wearing them; they don’t smell like me, they smell like mild gasoline. (Yes, that’s what I’ve dubbed the ‘new clothes smell’ to be akin with.)
Also, after months and months of whining about wanting ‘Yes Yes Yes’, I finally bought it. Elsinore’s gonna keep me all sorts of...
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Lackadaisical is my favorite word
Just in case any of you were wondering.
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Christmas was in no way normal this year.
Friday: Drove for 11 hours straight through to Connecticut, minus one stop at Chipotle. Stamford looks alarmingly like the Central West End.
Saturday: Up and at Grand Central Station by 6:30. In the city by 7:30. Tour, then strolled up and down the theatre district for awhile, around Times Square, where I got mistaken for a native New Yorker four times—it must be my piercing cynicism. Sushi...
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Home tonight. Connecticut tomorrow. NEW YORK CITY THE NEXT DAY. MerryhappyChristmas.
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ALSO
the fact that it’s looking more and more like God’s opening the door to move back to Missouri this summer, specifically in St. Charles, elates me more than anything else in my life right now.
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Jenna and I should just become professional...
Barat: I love Stacy and Clinton
Jenna: I'm pretty sure they're my spirit animals.
Barat: My soul has holes shaped like them both.
Jenna: So true. I wish they were my friends. What am I saying...most of my gay friends act just like them.
Barat: I'm watching right now and this chick needs to shut up and perk up.
Jenna: If I had $5,000 and Stacy and Clinton dressing me I would be the happiest camper.
Barat: I would never question. I would never cry--I would mindlessly drink their Kool-Aid and look adorable.
Jenna: Yes. So much yes.
Barat: The girl just pronounced mantra "MAN-tra", not "MON-tra." What.
Jenna: Oh goodness.
Barat: WHERE IS NICK. HOW ARE PEOPLE SUPPOSED TO HAVE CUTE HAIR WITHOUT NICK. WHAT IS THIS WORLD.
Jenna: I know, there's a gay black man named Ted. I feel awkward every time.
Barat: And not in a racist way! In a "I just woke up and there's another man in my mother's bed that's not my father" way.
Jenna: Carmindy, fix her!
Barat: She's the messiah of the show.
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ALSO, the bed I'm sleeping in makes me happier...
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I hate living alone. In the past three days, the prospect of leaving work and driving back to the house I’m staying with to see my friends and their family has elated me to the point where I’ve almost remembered what it’s like having a semblance of a social life. I LOVE coming home to a house and having people ask me how my day was, having supper prepared for me, or at least put...
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Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind...
“Never love anyone who treats you like you’re ordinary.”
– Oscar Wilde