life at my fingertips

a virtual window into my life and my madness. This amazing image is the work of Lissy Elle, http://lissyelle.com/.

it’s vintage

You may think I’m going to start talking about clothes, or cars or even jewelery, but you’re wrong. 

I’m talking about my phone. 

I prefer to think of it as a classic: old-school, traditional …  vintage. So what if I don’t have a data plan? So what if all it can do is send and receive text message, do outgoing and incoming calls, voicemail and caller ID? And  my phone bill is astoundingly cheap?

Sold!

Okay, so it may resemble a calculator. And it is a bit bulky. And it doesn’t have a touch screen. And it doesn’t have any games. And everyone — coworkers, family members, strangers, even my friends — mock me mercilessly. 

I may or may not have been asked repeatedly if my phone was a “replacement phone” too.

I won’t lie, I was this close to succumbing today. We were at the mall, I was talking plans and upgrade fees and cases and I almost abandoned my ol’ faithful phone. But Dave talked some sense into me, I resisted temptation and walked away.

This time.

 

The other night I kept hearing these sirens, and I was like, ‘What the ass is going on?’ Then I started thinking and I was like, ‘Oh shit, the cops are after me,’ so I got up and closed all the windows in the house, cleared my computer memory and deleted all my files. And then I stood by the window, peered out and there weren’t cops circling my house. So I was like, ‘Fuck this shit,’ went back to my room and tried to find that episode I was watching.
Ish


“working out”

Yes. It’s true. I’ve taken to “working out.” 

Every so often, the work out bug bites me. Cute swim suits start appearing in stores, the promise of a seductive summer lingers and suddenly I need to get in shape! Let me be clear: my interest in the gym is to stave off my impending heart attack, and yeah, tone up. Other than that, though, I am more than happy with myself. 

Yesterday was my first attempt to try to whip myself into shape, and frankly, it was a complete failure, hahahaha. I met up with my lovely friend Rachel and headed to her condo gym. Let me say this: the gym is not my natural habitat. There are mirrors, sweaty people, ugly black mats, crazy looking metal devices, used towels — the list goes on. Rachel was more adept at this whole working out thing than I was: after the elliptical machine and doing some crunches, I pretty much exhausted my repertoire of exercise techniques. Next time, I’ll come prepared and actually, you know, have some idea of what I’m doing. 

President Obama yelling at Presidential Candidates after they do nothing to stop the booing of gay soldiers. 

Boom goes the dynamite. And that’s how it done, suckas. 

(Source: gerardthehomosexual)

moving time

Guess whose moving?

Moi! I know, hardly a surprise considering that this is my blog, but just go with it. My parents have caught the home renovation bug and informed Katherine and I that they were planning on selling our beloved home by summertime. 

My parents have toyed about moving for years, but this is the most active I’ve ever seen them pursue it. They’re planning on moving further away, which doesn’t make sense for me since I’m working at DP. It’s hard to leave behind the home I’ve lived in these past 19 years, but at the same time I’m really excited to start a whole new chapter in my life. 

Also: I may be Jeremy and Veronica’s new roommate! Their low-rise apartment building is gorgeous, I’m dying to get in. I’m also looking for a roommate, since Natalie won’t be able to move out when I’m tentatively planning to. 

classy dinner conversation

  • Me: "Have you ever gotten a dirty picture texted you before?"
  • Doug: "Uh, no. Why? Have you?"
  • Me: "No! But I've asked other guy friends and it's really common apparently."
  • Doug: "Really?"
  • Me: "Really."
  • *A moment of silence*
  • Me: "So how would you react if you got one?"
  • Doug: "I don't know. I'd probably wait 20 minutes to seem really cool and say 'Thanks.'"
  • Me: "'Thanks"?"
  • Doug: "I don't know how to respond!"
  • Me: "There has to be etiquette. Maybe send one back?"
  • Doug: "Um, no."
  • Me: "I wonder what the accepted response is. . . ."
  • Doug: "When you find out, tell me?"
  • Me: "Of course! And if someone sends you one, tell me?"
  • Doug: "Of course. I'll even forward it to you."
  • Me: "Great. Just photoshop her head out."
  • Doug: "Agreed."