Working on my Inner Goddess

I’ve had this song stuck in my head for a solid three days

My neighbors love it.

I’ve also been becoming a Domestic Goddess. Ain’t no thaaaaang.

Last night, I made chicken salad.

When I started the chicken was FROZEN.

When I was done, it was delicious.

Also, I TOUCHED RAW CHICKEN.

LOL no I didn’t. I obvs have tongs.

I didn’t eat the chicken salad because I accidentally ate leftover Chipotle chips and salsa while I was cooking soooo I wasn’t really hungry. But it was a delicious lunch today.

After proving my meat cooking skills I decided to make banana bread.

There was batter all over my kitchen because hand mixers are made by Satan, but it tastes real good.

All that, though, is just gearing you up for the grand finale.

 

Lemme tell you a story.

The day I officially moved into my new apartment, my dad came to see it for the first time. He LOVES patios, and even though mine is only about 3×6, it does have a great view and, hey, it’s still outside. He was pretty excited about it and decided I needed patio furniture, so he called my mom who was at Target and asked her to pick up some patio furniture for a house warming present.

Ain’t he sweet?

Mom picked out two chairs and a table that I was pretty excited about, but then she also brought me a plant.

A plant.

I can’t make minute rice and the woman buys me a plant. (I’ve since become a better cook; see above)

I was basically ready to throw in the towel right there, but then she spoke.

“I don’t know why I bought this, you’ll just kill it anyway.”

Game on, MOTHER. Game on.

My plan was to treat my plant like an infant but then I accidentally locked myself out of my balcony for a solid week (don’t wanna talk about it) and it diiiiiied.

Dead. Dead as a doornail.

I’d show you a photo, but I never took one because I was afraid in a moment of weakness I’d send it to The One Who Doubts Me.

When I figured out how to get onto my balcony (don’t wanna talk about it), I felt hopeless. The Mother had won. I had lost.

But yet.

Jeff suggested I cut off all the dead buds (AKA all of them) and start watering it again.

Thus began the watering marathon.

I watered that plant e’rrrrrrr day. That plant was my CHILD.

And damn, it looked good.

Then I went out of town and asked my sister to babysit the plant, but she did not see the point.

I was insulted, but I did not let it affect my plant growing ability. My coworker told me that it’s easier to keep a healthy plant alive than to resurrect a dead plant. I had already done some resurrecting, so obvs I was talented enough to keep the thing alive without water for a few days.

 

What up, Mom.

What. Up.

Domestic Plant Resurrecting Goddess, at your service.

But not really, cuz lezzzz be real, goddesses don’t serve.

The problem is I’m happy

I have a crazy girl crush on Jillian Michaels.

 

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My roommate and I watched The Biggest Loser religiously when she was on it. We. Loved. Her. She was intense and to the point but then she also had this knack for really connecting emotionally with her clients when they needed it. I am OBSESSED with her.

I heard from another blog I stalk read that she had a weekly podcast and thought I’d check it out. Honestly, I didn’t think it would entertain me. 45 minutes of talking with no pretty pictures or cartoons? What is this, radio? 1920? The dark ages?

Don’t take that personally, Mom. You’re still young at heart.

Qualms aside, I decided to download a few podcasts for my listing pleasure, AKA to survive the two 3-hour art classes I had to take junior year of college. Fartsy I am not.

Turns out, I luuuuuurve this podcast. It did nothing but add to my out-of-control girl crush of Jill. The lady is talented, ridiculously smart in her field, a total hottie, and insanely insightful when it comes to matters of the heart and mind, as well. I know, you don’t expect hugs and kisses from our girl Jill, and while she doesn’t go that far, she is far more emotional than I thought! She knows what’s up.

Anyway, since I started my new job, I have a 20 minute commute every morning which I’ve dedicated to smoothie/coffee drinking (sometimes both if I’m feeling crazy), and listening to The Jillian Michaels Show.

This is such a great way to start my day, I can’t even tell you. There’s a ton of awesome information, but there’s also a glimpse into Jillian’s personal life (she and her partner are the new mom’s of TWO bebe’s within ONE year; yeah I know, as if you needed another reason to bow down), and some hilarious banter between her and the show’s producer, Janice. Janice is Canadian, which immediately makes her hilarious in my book. If there is anything funnier than a funny American, it’s a Canadian. I hope that doesn’t come across as racist because I’m dead serious. I smile every time she pronounces a word with an “o,” and I love her funny little one liners. In the podcast I listened to today (I am severely behind) she said “a kick in your giggle,” which is like when Americans say “a kick in your step.” Except 100x times more hilarious. And then Jillian always goes after her sayings like a jerk, but it’s charming at the same time…

…I think I need to retract my I-have-a-crush-on-Jillian statement and add and-Janice…

Anyway.

Today’s podcast was about something that I think a lot of people struggle with: being happy. That sounds super dumb, right? Like, when you’re happy, that’s awesome. That’s not a problem. It’s pretty rockin’. We work hard, we have setbacks, and then we’re happy and life is perfect.

Except it’s not. Because raise your hand if you work your butt off and everything aligns and life is pretty freaking amazing and suddenly you find yourself cowering a corner, waiting for the sky to fall.

Because we all know that for every good thing to happen to you, a bad thing is coming too. And the more good things, well, the more bad things that are just around the corner.

Right?

NO!

I totally fall into this crap trap. I’ve had a super amazing year.

Spend J-term in Italy eating my way through Rome, Florence and Assisi, while simultaneously losing 3 pounds (seriously, I don’t even know):

Check.

Supa cool guy puts a ring on it:

Checkity check check.

Turn 21 without dying:

 

Yup.

Have adorable doghter:

Graduate Cum Laude from university in 3 years with 2 majors:

Boom.

Open parttime small business so I can do what I love in my spare time:

Boom shaka laka.

Land my dream job before I have a diploma in my hand:

Woop woop.

I’m not oblivious to the fact that my 2012 was pretty bomb. In fact, I’m extremely aware of it. So aware, in fact, that whenever anyone else mentions it, you can find me staring back at them, fingers in my ears, screaming IKNOWIKNOWIKNOWIKNOWIKNOW!!! because I’m afraid the powers that be will hear them and realize I haven’t had a rough patch in a while and RAIN HELL DOWN UPON ME.

Now that’s not a very perky mindset, is it?

I’m an extremely positive person, but I’m human. I think we as humans – as Americans, especially – sometimes think we don’t deserve all the awesome stuff we’ve been handed.

But let’s be real. We haven’t been HANDED anything.

We’ve worked our butts off. Right!? WE HAVE.

No one is entitled to anything. I get that. But you absolutely deserve it if you work for it.

I can honestly say that I’ve worked HARD for all of these good things.

[Except not dying on my 21st birthday. That may have been pure luck and solid friends.]

So is your family happy and healthy? Do you love your job? Is your personal life in a total sweet spot? Chances are that stuff didn’t land in your lap. Chances are you are doing a rockin’ job at life.

Go you.

We’re always handed sucky suck fest crap. It’s life. People die, car engines start smoking when you have $50 to your name, somebody jealous of your awesome life spreads rumors that aren’t true. That crap sucks. And it’s gonna happen cuz that’s life. But chances are it’s not near as bad as you think it will be. (Except cancer and death. That’s always bad and awful and I’ll vote for the first gubernatorial candidate who votes to veto death and kick cancer to the curb.)

And even if something super awful does happen, what good are you doing worrying about it now? You’re wasting all the good crap!

So to recap:

You are awesome.

Your life is awesome.

Your life is awesome cuz you made it awesome.

Go you.

Now, go celebrate your awesomeness. Thank Jillian Michaels.

ROBOTS.

Youguysyouguysyouguysyouguyssssss.

I started my job (!!!!). Finally, right!?

I love it. I love it so much. I feel like I’m jumping the gun saying that being as tomorrow is only Day 5 but I am confident I will continues to love it. Lovelovelove.

I really can’t talk about it more than that because I’m afraid I’ll wet myself with excitement.

I also love my apartment.

Lovelovelove.

It is so cute it makes me sick.

I really thought that it would take a while to adjust to living on my own. I was pretty confident that I would go to bed every night ready for murderers to break down my front door with an axe, but I’ve been a Brave Little Toaster up in herrrrr. No bad guy dreams yet. Although tonight I’m watching Burn Notice so if it’s going to happen, it’ll be tonight.

Robots

I said on my Facebook page that my next post was going to talk about robots. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I’m probably going to. I’m not talking about R2D2 or Rosie Jetson, exactly, but something far, far cooler.

Dishwashers.

Yes.

Dishwashers.

I don’t think that people appreciate dishwashers until they don’t have dishwashers. I lived with my parents this summer, and they had a dishwasher, but I spent a lot of time hanging out (read: eating) at Jeff’s. Jeff has no dishwasher. I was all, Glass half full, no dishwasher is fiiiiiiiine, I love washing dishes!!

I LIED.

Dishwashers are the best things ever. Dishwashers make kitchens that look like this:

 

Look like this:

in about 12 seconds.

YOU GUYS.

It is a ROBOT that washes your DISHES.

For you!!

It just washes them while you watch Burn Notice, or edit photos, or WHATEVER .

So then I started thinking about other robots just walking around chilling on Earth. Like Transformers, basically, which I always knew was for real anyway.

Think about cars; robots that drive us places.

Computers; robots that teach us how hard boil an egg and everything else. (Side note: did you know if you start Google’ing, “How to…” boil eggs is one of the first hits? I am probably a contributing factor as I have Googled that topic at least 12 times. Successful egg boil attempts = 3.)

Phones; robots that are basically really advanced can+string communication devices.

Think about that last one though. Think about the first time you and your neighbor/best friend/sibling got your hands on a really sweet can+string phone. Or walkie talkies. Or figured out the vent in one room let you hear almost perfectly what was happening in the room below. How’d it make you feel?

If you’re like me you probably reacted something like this:

FREAKING OUT

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Riiiiiiiight!?

So here is my question: if our 8-year-old selves react like that to two old cans of tomato soup and yarn, why is it that our adult-selves are so much less excited by the completely radical technology we have today?

Eh? Eh?

I am completely guilty. Today when Siri wouldn’t play my Jillian Michael’s podcast and I had to use my FINGER, I was absolutely appalled.

I have to use my FINGER!? And touch this ridiculously sensitive touch screen!? On a device that let’s me call, text, email, tweet and creep on whatever and whoever I want!?

The humanity.

A little perspective for your Thursday night/Friday morning. Go find some soup cans.

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AC/DC

What up party people!?

Jeff and I spent an awesome long weekend visiting his cousins on the East coast. His cousin Ali paid for us to fly out there after we got engaged – crazy nice right!? We had been pumped for so long, so we were ready to go!

We spent most of our time in Atlantic City doing the tourist thang, and finished it up with Washington DC and the tourist thang.

Jeff saw the ocean for the first time:

He was the only one there!

Just kidding. I’m just a stealthy photographer like that.

After the ocean we hit up the bar scene in AC, which for the record is basically awesome and revolves around gambling (where I won $50 AND THEN STOPPED unlike someone else I know who’s name rhymes with Heff but I don’t want to name names) and beach bars (where they sing Mumford & Sons and Jimmy Buffet and I swooooooon). Lots of #winning.

We also went to this AWESOME sushi bar with THE BEST SUSHI IN THE WORLD and where I took my first saki bomb. Here is the problem with saki bombs, though. No one told me they are like liquid amnesia. I did not know, so can I just plead ignorance?

Friday night (saki night) goes from blurry to slightly clearer around the time I was back in the hotel room, dumping makeup remover into my contact case.

My contacts did not survive.

So now I look like this for a week while I wait for the eye doctor to order more:

;

Just KIDDING, guys. I was playing in Photobooth.

To clarify, not kidding about saki. LIQUID AMNESIA. Just be careful.

And now I’ve officially spent the last too many posts talking about my drinking habits. I promise I don’t have a problem. I just happen to have a lot of blog worthy moments when I get my drank on. Also, my mom adores reading about these experiences, so should I really deprive her of that?

On a related note, the next 4 posts will discuss my college GPA, my volunteer work for underprivileged children, and how I plan to be the first woman president of the United States and also Canada.

HAHAHAHA JK NO THEY WON’T.

But I did see some museums:

Like the American History, where we met Kermit the frog and the first Macintosh computer. It was 1/8 the size of the screen I’m currently typing on. Thank you, Steve Jobs.

Also, the Air and Space Museum.

Isn’t this guy cute?

;

;

Aaaaaand now I’m back and will be working a bunch this week as I gear up to move on Sunday.

And now I have to go because Fun. is performing on Lenno and I gotta get my jam on. PEACE.

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#Bridesmaids #FTW

So guys, I wrote this post like, last week, and then I got distracted with moving and finishing a couple summer classes and Hoku music videos (to be explained in a later post, I’m sure), so I thought I’d publish it today.

I worked out yesterday, congratulations to me, and seem to have pulled the entire right side of my stomach. I’m not sure how one accomplishes this on an elliptical. I’m almost positive it means I need to work out more…

We haven’t talked in a while, so I’ll catch you up. One of my oldest friends (as in, we’ve been friends since Beanie Babies, not like she’s 100 or something) got married on Friday, which was the funnest thing ever. I’ve also decided I’m a big fan of Friday weddings. We started the fun on Thursday and kept it going til well into Saturday morning.

After the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner on Thursday, a bunch of my friends went to a bar for a few drinks before the next day’s festivities. I was a bridesmaid, so really, it was my duty to go have a beer.

It ended up being a freaking high school reunion at the bar, which means I stayed too long and drank too much. But I hung out with some really cool people.

Eventually I became hungry, and I was furious when I found out that the Taco Bell approximately 20 yards away was only open until 11. But seriously. Are you joking? Don’t say you are open MIDNIGHT OR LATER if it’s actually ELEVEN OR EARLIER. The two are very different. Especially when you’re 3 Coors Lights deep (I know, I know, I am a tank).

This resulted in Taco Bell rage, as displayed on the tweeter:

You guys, my Twitter stream from Thursday night is hilarious. My mother would disagree with that statement, but would I lie to you?

Anyway, I accepted the fact that T Bell would not be opening for me, so I asked the bartender for a cup of olives and pickles. It was surprisingly satisfying.

My lovely fiance came and picked me up around midnight (I know, I know, I also stay up sooo late) and gave me a ride home. DON’T drink and drive, kids! Cuz unlike my Taco Bell tweets that is NOT FUNNY.

The next morning started early with me trying to tame my hair into submission. I opted to do my own hair since it can be kind of ridiculous as soon as you do something besides straighten it. Things did not get off to a good start.

The day before, my friend and fellow bridesmaid showed up to the rehearsal with these FABULOUSLY RIDICULOUS curls. Like OMG CURLS. I was like, Kirby how did you do that?! And she was all, Oh I just blow dried it.

•__•
Are you kidding me.
So that’s what I was trying in the above photo and that’s how it turned out. My hair actually does have some natural wave but I’ve beaten it into submission, so now when I try to use a diffuser and get it to curl it looks like THAT. Cute, huh?
Eventually I conquered my head and it actually turned out really well. I was feeling pretty good about myself. In fact, the entire wedding party thought we all looked damn good.
Ain’t we cute?
We were nothing compared to the bride and groom tho. Damn. They were looking good!
Aren’t they hot!?
We partied well into the night to 90s boyband music and a little Wilson Phillips action. The DJ knew what was up.
I ❤ weddings.

How to Pretend You’re Trying to Lose Weight

Due to the fact that I haven’t worked out in 12 years and that lately I’ve been eating doughnuts, cake and pizza whenever they are offered to me, I’ve been avoiding denim like the plague. If stretchy material is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Truth be told, I need to get myself back on track because I bought a wedding dress and supposedly I have to fit into it in about 11 months. It’s not denim, but it’s not stretchy either. Dammit.

I used to feel like I was such a health and fitness guru. Work out every day, eat some quinoa, enjoy Meatless Monday, read a healthy living blog. Boom.

Lately I’ve been more of an alcohol aficionado. A fried food fiend. Junk food junkie.

It’s arguably much more fun. Well, short term. Long term it’s leggings and sweatshirts. Boo.

I feel like I need to get back on track like all the good brides-to-be out there. And forget wanting to look hot on my wedding day – what about just wanting to look hot? Leggings and sweatshirts aren’t hot. (ACTUALLY they TOTALLY are…HA! Get it? Cuz they make you warm…? Yeah.)

Getting healthy is hard, especially when you’re having such a fun time being unhealthy. So I’ve decided to stick to the age-old adage, Fake It Til You Make It. I’m going to pretend I’m trying to lose weight and then hopefully in like a month I’ll actually be doing it. Or it will just magically disappear. That would be cool, too.

How To Pretend You’re Trying To Lose Weight

1. Go to the store and buy healthy things. 

Last night I bought carrots, cucumbers, apples, avocados, lemons and low cal orange juice for my breakfast smooooooothies. I came up with this trick: buy the real carrots, not the baby carrots. You know, REAL carrots, like with the green on the end. You probably forgot what real carrots look like, what with your late-night Krispy Kreme runs, so let me remind you:

 

Remember?

OK, so you buy the REAL carrots, and then you get home, and wash, peel and cut. This is more difficult than sticking a bag of baby carrots in the fridge, right? Right. So now that you did all that hard work, you will remember to eat them and not the Krispy Kremes because of all the labor that went into that bag of carrots in the fridge.

Probably.

2. Get your healthy things ready. 

Do the carrot method mentioned above.

Also, you can do make-ahead smoothies. I have a smoothie for breakfast ever morning, which is arguably the only healthy thing I eat all day (pre-Trying To Get Healthy, of course). Smoothies are easy, but they take a slight amount of prep work, which I can’t afford in the morning because I’m already probably running late. My favorite smoothie is frozen strawberries + ice + 8 oz. OJ + Body by Vi shake mix (<- nutritional supplement stuff; tastes good tho). It never fails that I end up running around the kitchen trying to get everything I need for the smoothie, even though it’s not very much stuff.

Enter: planning ahead. I got some cheapo baggies and stuffed them full of 1 cup of fruit (learned that in a magazine; see #3), in this case strawberries, and 6-8 ice cubes. There were even some strawberries about a day away from rotting in the fridge, so I cut those bad boys ups too. BOOM, pre-portioned smoothie mix, just add OJ. Less thinking in the morning. Don’t mind if I do.

3. Buy a health/fitness magazine.

The cashier will fo sho think you are the next Bob Harper/Jillian Michaels, which is want you want anyway. Also, you will learn fun things, like 1 cup of fruit in smoothies is the perfect amount nutritionally without going overboard in all that fabulous natural sugar found in fruit, so now you can make pre-portioned smoothies and forgo using a measuring cup before the sun is even up. You’re welcome. You will also see pictures of pretty girls working out and this will motivate you.

Probably.

4. Practice self control, but only when you have to. 

At work they make this cheese popcorn, which is basically buttery popcorn coated in neon orange cheese-flavored crack. I like to enjoy a 32 oz. cup of it daily. Today I was being all self-controlled though, and I said, No, no thank you, I am good with my smoothie. Personally I think I deserve a medal, but I’m trying not to make a big deal out of it.

5. Sleep in wonkified positions so you wake up sore. Complain about soreness.

I’ve been telling people about my stiff shoulders and tight hamstrings today, which makes it sound like I was warming up with Michael Phelps before his little soul was crushed in prelims yesterday.

 

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Poor Mike.

I know I fooled you, but the truth is I wasn’t with Mikey yesterday. Nope. I just slept like a human pretzel.

No one has to know.

I like the feeling of being sore, so I’m hoping after a few days I’ll decide I want to have a workout-induced soreness instead of a pretzel-induced soreness (mmm…pretzels), and then I’ll go for a 6-mile jog or something.

Until then, you can find me in leggings and sweatshirts.

Toodles.

In and Out

One of my favorite things to do is ask really stupid questions on Facebook and make my friends answer them.

Because yes, it may be stupid, but it’s also a valid question. I think.

If doing that has taught me anything, though, it’s that people have opinions on the dumbest funniest things. One time I took a poll about grape jelly vs. strawberry jelly (strawberry FTW!!) to avoid a news writing assignment and you would not believe the claws that came out. Do not offend a man and his jelly. Don’t do it.

To be fair though, I also have opinions on really dumb things. For example, it can ruin my day when somebody goes OUT the IN door of the bathroom at work. WHYY. JUST USE THE CORRECT DOOR. Then when I’m trying to get into the bathroom I’m running into a mom and her three kids, or a group of old ladies and it’s suddenly very awkward. What way do I go? Left? Right? And then we’re doing an awkward little get around dance in the bathroom doorway. Do I say excuse me because REALLY YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY NOT ME.

Anyway, after 16 extremely helpful comments I’m one step closer to having another wedding thing done-zo. We’re not really doing save-the-dates because we’re inviting 12 billion of our closest friends and family members to our wedding, but we thought it would be a good idea to do a little Christmas card that happens to mention our wedding date. Clever, no? Save paper, save the world. Also, money. OK mostly money. We’ll probably just send them to parents/grandparents/siblings/aunts and uncles, and it’s a good excuse to use our engagement photos 🙂 Yeahhhhhh.

Last night/this morning I made this again. It makes my heart so happy. It was the first time all summer I made it, which is really just a shame. Funny story: that post is still one of the most popular posts on my old blog. Crazy huh? I desperately need to transfer it over here because I can’t lose it – it’s AWESOME. It makes my day happy even when people are going out the in doors.

 

 

Pee hands and urine handles

With the start date for my new job right around the corner, I’ve been doing a few things to get ready, such as finding an apartment and peeing in cups.

What, is that weird?

Actually, I had to take a drug test; I don’t just get kicks out of peeing in little tiny cups. I’ve never had to take a drug test before, so I thought it was kind of a weird request. According to the nurse handling my urine, however, it’s super common. Oh, America.

I went to get the drug test over my lunch break, so I prepared by drinking approximately 107 oz. of water in 30 minutes. I actually don’t think that’s possible, but I drank a lot of water. The test was going to be at the hospital, and since this isn’t an extremely hoppin’ town I live in, our hospital parking lot is, give or take, the size of my parents driveway. Everyone in Mitchell was visiting the hospital on this day, so I drove around with a very full bladder for a while before I finally parked lightyears away and ran my behind up to second floor so I could finally pee.

But pee I could not. There were two people in front of me to pee so I had to sit with an uncomfortably full bladder in the waiting room while a new employee watched a video made in the 70s about pathogens. Awesome.

It honestly didn’t take TOO long for it to be my turn. A nurse came to get me and gave very specific instructions to empty my pockets, wash my hands, put my purse in the cupboard. I guess they have to be specific so crack heads don’t sneak in clean urine in their purses (ew).

Once I was in the bathroom there were even more specific instructions: pee in the toilet. Then pee in the cup. Then pee in the toilet. Then DON’T FLUSH THE PEE OR YOU HAVE TO START OVER AND WE WILL PUSH WATER DOWN YOU UNTIL YOU HAVE TO PEE AGAIN.

Noted.

So, I did my business and in doing so peed all over myself and wasn’t allowed to wash my hands. Then I opened the door and realized that other people also were probably covered in urine and touching the door handle with pee hands and I totally got the heeby geebies.

This is why I hate hospitals.

Pee hands and urine handles.

The nurse handed me a wet nap, but really, it was a wet nap and I was covered in urine so my cleanliness is still up for debate at this point. Ga-ross.

SO THEN I’m standing in the hallway where people are coming and going (HA, LITERALLY) and the nurse goes into the room to wet nap the shelf where I put my cup of pee. And the toilet is still full of my urine. And she is hanging out next to it.

And this, friends, is why I did not go to school for nursing.

My pee is then put into two viles and at this point we are standing in the middle of the hallway and she is working with my pee. So people are walking by and I’m just all, Hey how ya doing, yeah that’s my pee, this isn’t weird at all.

Then I had to label my pee, which meant touching the container again, which once again contaminated my hands with more urine.

Ew.

I hightailed it out of the hospital as soon as I could and I don’t intend to take a drug test again any time soon.

So how’s your Thursday?

Around the Net

  • I’m loving this shirt worn by my boyfriend Zach Efron, who happens to be a big fan of this blog.

    OK he’s not a big fan of this blog. Or my boyfriend.

  • Did you guys see my face on these posts yesterday? I’m leaving my Operation Beautiful internship because of my new fulltime gig, and it’s very bittersweet. I totally had a moment yesterday when I saw these posts. Healthy Tipping Point has been one of my favorite blogs for years, and I have such a soft spot for OB, so to be mentioned on there – even though I feel like I “know” Caitlin through all our emails – was just crazy cool.
  • I’m assuming the RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF VIEWS on my blog yesterday was due to the above two posts and not due to absolute hilarity, but still, YOU GUYS. SO MANY VIEWS. I logged into my Dashboard today and thought my blog was malfunctioning. Wowza. Are you back again today? I hope so!!

Condiment Catastrophe: a story of egg salad

I was going to make this for lunch today.

I was going to take pictures.

It was going to be a really pretty photo shoot because you know what is prettier than a hard boiled egg’s bright yellow and a perfectly ripe avocado’s green fleshy goodness?

Nothing.

Maybe this:

*Gratuitous photo of my future nieces. Gorge!

Back to my egg salad.

So last time I tried to make egg salad at Jeff’s house (sometimes I go there for lunch cuz it’s .2 seconds away from work and my parents’ house is wayyy too far away for an hour lunch break [not really, but his house is much closer]) I did EVERYTHING my mom/The Pioneer Woman/Google told me to do and my eggs were not cooked. It was heartbreaking. Do you have any idea how it feels to crave egg salad like crack and get everything all set up and put together and spend 20 minutes boiling two damn eggs and neither of them cook all the way through!? It’s enough to make you sick.

Literally. That’s how you get salmonella.

I didn’t have the salmonella problem this time, thank GOODNESS. I was getting ready to mix everything together and I took the mayo out of the fridge. Back story: unless it’s on a BLT or LIGHT in a salad (pasta, potato, egg) I do not go near mayo. Ewyuckno.

It jiggles.

It freaks me out.

No.

So of course I had not realized that the mayo in the fridge had expired IN DECEMBER and was CURDLING and I bet you anything Jeff had been eating it up until we went on vacation last week. Climb aboard the vomit train…

I was able to find some Miracle Whip that only just expired last week (!!!!) so I squeezed in the teeniest amount just to make the egg stick together, basically, because if I hate anything more than mayo it’s Miracle Whip.

I threw in some mustard and worcestershire sauce (<- KEY!) and tasted my creation and it was surprisingly delicious despite the condiment catastrophe.

But then I ate a spoonful with avocado (my one true love) and I decided that on their own each are glorious, but together notsomuch. I think it was a consistency problem. Too much mush in one place. That being said, maybe when I actually have mayo and not that other crap I will try Ree’s recipe. Who knows.

After all this, my camera died anyway so it didn’t even matter. It’s like I never ate at all. Because after all, if there is no Instagram photo of it, did it really happen??? I ask you.

So now I’ve got a sliced up avocado in the fridge marinating in lime so it won’t go all nast and brown on me, and I’m trying to figure out a way to use it ASAP. (Guacamole is the obvious standby.)

I’ve also got a husband-to-be with a totally clean fridge because the mayo situation freaked me out so I started purging, which really wasn’t a bad idea anyway cuz yesterday Jeff ate a 13-day-old enchilada.

TMI & IDC

Howdy.

Today is my first day back to the real world after vacation and it’s not as bas as I expected. That being said, if anyone knows of a job where I can take vacation year-round, lemme know.

A few housekeeping notes: I scheduled a bunch of posts for when I was gone to A) transfer posts from The Eating Effort and B) provide some content with little to no work for me (not even sorry about it). Well I am apparently technology stupid because while I scheduled these posts, they were listed as drafts, so they never actually published. I still don’t really get it. But whatever. Sorry about that. It would have worked out really well.

ANYWHO that’s why I just published about 67 posts.

And now, for your list-making pleasure…

7 Random Things I Want To Talk About Since I Haven’t Blogged In A While

1. I have returned from vacation with roughly 11 million new bruises, all on my legs (and one cute one on my left butt cheek). I am not sure where they originated. My lower self bruises extremely easily, but usually I can’t feel them and it’s just like a weird little surprise when I find them hidden between my toes and behind my knee, etc. These ones I FEEL. It’s real bad because I have one almost black bruise on the inside of my left thigh and one on the inside of my right calf so when I cross my legs they scream AHHH NOOO PLEASE STOP THE PAINNN OWWWW. Double whammy.

2. Yesterday on the way home I ate a bagel sandwich. Let me just say this: any bagel sandwich (um, already winning) that utilizes both cream cheese AND sliced cheese is a winner in my book. TWO KINDS OF CHEESE. ON A BAGEL. It was so good. Thank you, Brueggers, for existing.

Damn you for not existing closer to me.

3. Speaking of cheese, I was kind of the queen of it on vacation. Nachos, pizza, nachos, pizza. Couldn’t get enough. I haven’t gone to the bathroom in days.

Too much?

But seriously I ate a lot of cheese. And just a lot of crap in general, actually.

4. I’m working out tonight.

I bet you have no idea what could have motivated me.

Just kidding. I bet you do.

And then I’m having a salad for dinner.

With a side of cheeeeeeese.

No. No cheese.

5. I saw Jake Owen AND Grace Potter AND Tim McGraw AND Kenny Chesney at Target Field on Sunday. (With Jeff and Al and Caity who I will talk about later cuz I’m mad at them.)

Tim McGraw wore all white and it was very tight and see through-y and Kenny Chesney sweated through his tank top. Between that and the side of tequila I had with lunch, I don’t remember much more.

6. This is my best friend Caity. We were concert goers together.

She is leaving for the Cayman Islands today and I’m a little mad about it. I’ve determined I should have been invited and here is why:

  • I met Jeff when I was 16 and he was 20 and we started dating (What’s the opposite of a cougar? I want to be called whatever that is.)
  • Caity was my BFF.
  • Al was Jeff’s BFF.
  • When I was 17 and Caity was 18 and we were seniors, Jeff took me to a New Year’s Eve party with a bunch of 21-year-olds who were obviously drinking because DUH. I made Caity come with me because I was keeping it dry (what up, goodietooshoes!?) and that would have been super boring by myself.
  • I introduced Caity to the always classy Al (BFF of Jeff, remember) who may or may not have been completely incapable of full sentences by this point in the night, but he won her over any way. By the time we graduated they were dating all official-like and the rest is history.

So YOU’RE WELCOME, Caity and Al.

And yes, a proper THANK YOU involves a ticket to the Cayman Islands.

Jeff wants to come, too.

I’ll wait by the phone.

But seriously, how cool is it that we were all besties when we were babies, and now we still want to hang out together a billion years later? I think it’s pretty cool. So cool in fact that I got a little misty-eyed during the concert. (There Goes My Life always makes me cry anyway, and then there’s the tequila we talked about earlier…so it happened.)

7. Our engagement photos are done, and I love them so much it’s sick.

Please go check out L.O. Imijri. And then hire her. I mean good God, the girl does. work.

In this post I have talked about bruises and bathroom problems and drinking too much. If you’re still reading, high five. I like you.