Thursday, June 25, 2009

Who Knew Cleaning out your Closet Could Be So Depressing?


I’m not much for spring- cleaning. I’m more of a this-room will-get cleaned- when- my-lazy-ass-gets-around-to-it-kind-of-gal.

What can I say? I bang to the beat of my own drum. I don’t really like it when people tell me when to do something.

Who even decided we should clean in the spring, anyway? Wouldn’t it make much more sense to dust, vacuum and scrub in the dead of winter when there’s nothing better to do? Once the birds start chirping, the flowers start blooming and the temperature reaches 60 degrees, my ass is outside frolicking like a little lamb.

Problem is, even if we changed the term to ‘winter cleaning,’ I still don’t think I’d do it.

This facet of my personality grates my own nerves.

Take this past weekend, for example. The moving process would have gone much smoothly had I cleaned out my closet months ago.

Instead I decided to wait til moving day to pack, clean, etc. In my defense, I didn’t find out I could move in to my new place this past weekend until Friday. That gave me one day notice to start packing and I chose to continue my birthday celebration instead. I’m still convinced that was the right decision.

It had been two years since I last cleaned out my closet and dresser (that’s the last time I moved). Why I still have shoes from eighth grade, tops from high school and body glitter in my make-up bag, is beyond me. Maybe I’m hoping that ‘90s fashion will make a comeback and I can pair my chunky heels with animal prints and rub body glitter on my eyelids to give my eyes that extra sparkle.

(Don't judge, you know you had all those things in your closet a decade ago, too.)

I also realized that I have way more shoes and purses than one could ever need. And since I’ve been broke the past few months and I’m tired of feeling like I’m drowning in debt, I decided I’m going to…


::grab onto desk so I don’t faint::

…sell my designer handbags. I only own a few, but I realized, do I really need these?

-Purse #1: Black Coach bag for “work.” Ha-that’s a joke. I can't even fit a file folder into this "work bag." And I already had a useful, much bigger bag from Wilson’s Leather Outlet. Sure, the Coach bag is made of better leather and it makes me feel more sophisticated. But again, not necessary.

-Purse #2: Another black Coach bag for ‘going out.’ I never use this thing. When I need a black, going-out purse, I always grab my black faux-leather clutch from New York and Co. I think it was like $15. Someone else can get much more use of this little guy…though I did bring him out last night. Probably because I feel guilty I’m giving him away to a stranger.

-Purse #3: This is my favorite, and therefore going to be the hardest to part ways with. I bought it at the cutest handbag boutique I’ve ever seen. It was literally a block from my hotel in Seattle. I took it as a sign from God that I needed another designer handbag. I’ve never heard of the designer so I couldn’t tell you her name, but the bag was made in Argentina and it’s this pretty teal color that adds “pop” to any dull outfit. And it’s the perfect size, too.

But, sacrifices must be made. Maybe when I’m rich and famous or marry someone rich and famous, I can once again hold the title of 'designer handbag owner.'

For now, I’m taking a cue from the lovely Karyn Bosnak. I don’t really feel like I have much other people would want, but I'm pretty sure I can get good money for the bags.

And that, my friends, is why I hate cleaning out my closet. Well, cleaning anything in general.

I need to go have a martini now. The separation anxiety is too much to bear.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

A Day of Monumental Events

Today not only marks the birthday of your beloved Miss Procras, but also the anniversary of the day I met The Hoff. He had me at, “You know, we really have a lot in common.” Such a smooth talker, that Hoff. I have to say though, he’s the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten. (Cue the sappy music.)

To celebrate, a group of my nearest and dearest are going to a Huey Lewis and the News concert. Not gonna lie, I really don’t know many of their songs, but you better believe I’ll be rocking out, pretending to be showing off my mad Marty McFly skateboarding skills when they play “Power of Love.”

Mr. Lewis will be performing at one of my all-time favorite concert venues. It’s outdoors, and you can bring all the food and alcohol you’d like. I think more concert venues need to adopt this attitude. I’m sick of paying $11 for a flat, warm beer to keep my buzz going throughout an entire concert.

I’ll probably end up regretting this, but my plan is to drink wine all night. I’m 25 now – I need to at least pretend I’m classy.

If tonight goes anything like the last time I drank my weight in wine, I think I may be considered a candidate for VH1’s Charm School. You gotta dream big.

Full report of the night’s events tomorrow, pending I’m still alive/functioning.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

The Quarter-Life Crisis is Setting in…Big Time


This is pretty much how I've felt lately.

I turn 25 on Thursday. I remember when I was five, cooking dinner at my PlaySkool kitchen, and imagining myself at this age living in an all-brick house with my husband, two cats, golden retriever and a baby on the way.

What the f was I thinking??!!

I guess I figured since my mom married my dad at 24 and had me at 25, that life would pan out similarly for me. (Interesting family fact: my mom had me at 25, my grandma had my mom at 25, and my great-grandmother had my grandma at 25. Don’t worry, I’ve been making The Hoff double-bag it just in case history decides to repeat itself for the fourth time.)

I’m definitely nowhere close to getting married and the idea of a baby terrifies me. (Maybe it’s the breastfeeding calls I get from women fighting back tears while they tell me that the skin on their nipple has completely fallen off. Dear God, the girls ache just thinking about that.)

But at this point in my life, with my friends going in a million different directions, it really makes me stop and wonder if I’m on the right path.

There are those friends who have gotten married, bought a house and are settling into domestic bliss; the ones who are in grad school/law school/med school, studying ridiculous hard and partying even harder (as my friend Law Student put it, “when I was in undergrad, I drank more to be social, in law school, I drink to get obliterated”); and the ones like me, who work boring 9-5 jobs and then drink the weekends away, only to curse Monday when it rolls around again, all the while trying to navigate the dating scene, or lack there of. (I apologize for that atrocious run-on sentence.)

Which begs the question: Is this really what life is about?

Since college, I kinda feel like I’ve been skydiving without a parachute- just free-falling and desperately hoping to find a way to avoid hitting the ground/a tree/side of a mountain. Definitely feel like I’ve come close a few times…

Not a very uplifting analogy, but you get the idea.

So, where do I go from here?

I picked a career (print journalism) with a very bleak future. After finally landing a job in that field, I was laid off 14 months later. Now, I’m working somewhere that has nothing to do with my skills, talents or degree and I have to fight the urge to smash my head against the wall fifty times a day due to boredom. Do I pick a new career path? Go back to school? Keep trying to land my dream job?

I live in a city that I like, but don’t love. I’m a southern girl, and I miss people saying “y’all,” holding my door open for me, random strangers striking up a conversation and peaceful drivers who don’t honk every two seconds. But I also enjoy how much there is to do here, how I haven’t even put a dent into all the museums, art galleries, exhibits there are to visit, and the fact that I can go out at night and not run into ten people from my high school. As The Clash so epically sang, “Should I stay or should I go?”

I guess this is where things get scary – the unknown/uncertain. What you want out of life, who you want in it, even where you want to live your life.

All questions to ponder/reflect on/freak out about I suppose. In the meantime, I'll hold firm to the belief that I’ll eventually grow some wings to help me fly like that damn eagle the Steve Miller Band was talking about and land blissfully into the life I want for myself.

Friday, June 12, 2009

TGIF, bias!!

No Full House, Family Matters or Sabrina the Teenaged Witch to look forward to tonight. I’ve got something wayyyyy better on the agenda. My darling gay BFF, Just Jack, turned 25 on Tuesday and a group of us are going out tonight to celebrate. AND, it’s Pride Weekend here in D.C. Woop, woop!

I’ve gotta say, I’m starting to favor the ‘mo bars over straight ones. Here’s why:

  • The drinks are 1,000 times stronger and cheaper. I have yet to get a bar tab more than $30.
  • You don’t have to worry about getting hit on by pretentious snobs of Capital Hill, preppy mama’s boy Georgetown students or your generic schwated pervos. (Real-life occurrence last week while I was out with friends: Semi-cute guy was hitting on a girl in our group when he looked over, saw another girl walk by, and said, “Oh, she’s cuter than you, I’m going to go talk to her.” What. A. Douche.)
  • Along the same lines, you are guaranteed to get complimented at least once on your outfit, shoes, purse or figure. It seems more meaningful coming from a gay man because you know they’re not just trying to get in your pants. That, and they understand fashion much better than straight men.

All in all, a fun-filled weekend planned with the ‘mos. Hope everyone's is equally fabulous!

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Give a Girl Three Fish from a Carnival, and Watch the Hilarity Ensue

I went with The Hoff to this carnival-esque thing on Sunday. Lots of rides, games, arts and craft vendors, petting zoos, food, and most importantly…beer.

There was also plenty of live music. I tortured The Hoff by making him sit through his first country concert. Phil Vassar, my favorite country artist, was performing and there was no way I was going to miss his show. (Besides, he’s an alumnus of our college so we're practically family.)

By the end of the day, I was slightly intoxicated from a mix of beer and standing in the sun for 6+ hours. In my inebriated state, I jumped up and down and shrieked like a little girl when The Hoff and I passed the goldfish game. (You know, the one where you try to throw a ping pong ball into a fishbowl and win a goldfish.)

I’m not sure what came over me because it’s not like I’ve been desperately wanting a goldfish. My life hasn’t been so incomplete that I need a slimy, smelly creature of the sea swimming around in a glass bowl to keep me company while I down bottles of wine and watch marathons of The Hills.

Needless to say, The Hoff and I suck at life and couldn’t get the ball into a bowl (that’s what she said?). I did manage to hit one of the attendants in the head, and I told the guy that was worth at least 10 goldfish…he didn’t agree.

At least he didn't let us walk away empty-handed. Our consolation prize was three of the reject fish they were practically paying people to take off their hands. Two of them looked like this, but smaller.

Call me crazy but I thought goldfish were supposed to look more like this...or at least be orange/gold.

The third one was a more acceptable size but had a pink tint – still nowhere close to the correct hue.

I was so excited I didn’t even care. I skipped around with those minnows, displaying them like they were a 20-lb. sea bass I had just caught with my bare hands.

Unfortunately, for the fishies, The Hoff and I were too tired and dazed to stop on the way home for fish food and an aquarium. So, we decided to improvise and let them reside in a beer pong pitcher for the time being. If humans enjoy beer so much, we figured fish would as well.

If only getting the fish into the container was as simple as finding them temporary housing...

The Hoff and I got two fish successfully into the pitcher and were working on the third. Just as he opened the bag to pour the last one in, one of us knocked the pitcher over, sending two of the fish down the garbage disposal.

I immediately freaked out, called us fish murderers and declared that we’d have bad karma for a good 50 years for what we just did. Luckily, there was a flashlight nearby, so I pointed it down the disposal and saw the two fish still alive, gasping for air.

“Please get them out, The Hoff!” I cried. “Don’t let them suffer!”

You'd think this was a beloved pet I’d owned for ten years, not some free minnow I "won" two hours ago from a carnival the way I was carrying on.

Needless to say, The Hoff and I were able to save them by creating a scooping contraption with two spoons.

Miraculously, all the fish were still alive the next morning.

Fast forward to today.

After being fed a hearty meal last night (per the instructions of a PetSmart employee), only one of them is still alive. We’ve named her Lucky Bitch. The other two small, silver minnows, Bob and Ginger (aka the red-headed step children), bit the dust. Maybe they sucked up too much beer residue.

Oh well, The Hoff and I like Lucky Bitch better anyway.

...we’re going to make great parents someday.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Graduations, Punctuality, Technology, Booze and Running...Good God this is Random Post

I feel like all I've been talking about is the situation with The Hoff lately, so I thought I'd provide a smattering of other happenins in the life of Miss Procras.:

*My little bro graduates high school today. I just realized it’s been seven years since I experienced that blessed event. I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about this. It definitely doesn't make me feel any younger...

*I've upped my average arrival time to work by 10 minutes. The boss(es) seem happier - haven't been getting many of these looks lately.

*I want to make my blog prettier, but I lack both the talent and the patience. Everytime I try to do something technologically savvy, I end up wanting to throw my computer across the room. (Side note: I have yet to even download music onto my IPOD. Yes, I’m still living in the dark ages of discmans and walkmans. But this means I get to listen to all my old cassette tapes-like Paula Abdul, Ace of Base and Hanson. Admit it – you’re jealous.)

*One of my best friends, Law Student, is in town for the summer studying for the bar. This means that my alcohol intake will increase 50% over the next few months.

*I’m moving closer to D.C. at the end of this month. This means that my alcohol intake will increase another 50% in a few weeks. My liver is jumping up in down with excitement a la Jessie Spano on caffeine pills.

*I’ve started training for my first 5K. I’m considering this a peace offerring to my body for the hell I’m going to put it through in alcohol consumption this summer.

'Tis all for now. Gotta get on the road for the bro's graduation. (Cell phone flask is in purse for entertainment during the ceremony. Maybe I'll even make a drinking game out of it. Every time a graduate walks across the stage, I'll drink. Pure genius.)

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Decisions, Decisions part 2

Yiles-ola. Didn’t realize it had been a week since I’ve posted.

I know you’ve been on the edge of your seats waiting for the conclusion of The Hoff’s birthday saga. (Major sarcasm there.) I don’t want to bore you all to tears, so I’ll just go with the condensed version.

I did end up going to his birthday celebration last Wednesday. Solo. I must have called 15 people to come with me but they were either working (overachievers) or still recuperating from Memorial Day weekend (lightweights.) I kid, I kid.

But the night actually went really well. No looks of disgust, no cold shoulders. If The Hoff’s friends hate me, they sure did a good job of hiding it.

Only awkward part of the evening was meeting some of The Hoff’s co-workers. They were both really nice, but they had no idea about our situation so they assumed I was just a friend.

Exhibit A: When I handed The Hoff his birthday card (with gift tucked inside), one of them said, “Oh, you’re so cute – you brought a card.”

Exhibit B: Same girl later introduced me to another co-worker as The Hoff’s friend. I wanted to correct her, but I wasn’t sure how to label myself, so I kept my mouth shut.

Other highlights of the evening:

-The Hoff really liked his gift. I got him tix to a Pats game and he’s never been to one so he’s pretty pumped.

-The Hoff (jokingly) demanded that his co-worker’s fiance buy him a shot when he arrived. He obliged buy purchasing The Hoff a bourbon shot, which sent him over the edge.

-I had to basically carry the birthday boy back to my car. We didn’t even make it out of the parking garage before I had to pull over so he could vomitando .

TMI play-by-play:
The Hoff immediately passes out when he gets in the car.
All of the sudden, I hear gurgling sounds.
Miss Procras: Are you gonna get sick?
The Hoff: (after jolting straight up, eyes wide open. YES!!

So I pull over, right before the parking attendant booth, and was both amazed and relieved that The Hoff managed to avoid getting puke in my car. At least he has good aim, even when completely shitfaced.

- When we got back to The Hoff’s house, he disappeared to the bathroom for a while. When I went to check on him, I found him planted face-first in the sink. Wish I had a photo of that shining moment.

-Coerced The Hoff to move from the sink to his bed, placing a trashcan right next to him. Not two seconds later, the gurgling sounds start again so I shoved the trashcan in his face for vomitando round 2.

…a very successful 24th birthday if I do say so myself.

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