Running Fashionably Late

Being single sometimes makes you feel like...

2011-12-07T11:13:00.006-05:00

This

and/or

this

Being Alone Can Be Scary as Hell

2011-11-16T17:15:00.000-05:00

This past August, my grandfather passed away. I was fortunate enough, a month earlier, to spend his 80th birthday with him at a surprise party planned by my aunt. About 100 of his family and friends showed up for the occasion.

The next day, I was at his house, and he kept talking about how normally during the days it was just him and his dog, Buddy, a Doberman the size of a small horse. My granddaddy’s second wife passed away a few years earlier from breast cancer, and progressed macular degeneration left him legally blind and unable to drive for the past decade. He lived with my aunt and uncle, who both worked full-time, 9-5 jobs, so he was often alone during the day, except for friends that stopped by for lunch on occasion.

He must have commented that he’s alone a lot at least five times during my visit. And it suddenly hit me – my 80-year-old grandfather is afraid of the same thing I am as a single 27-year-old. Being alone.

With each engagement and wedding, I’m elated for my friends, but also reminded that I’m nowhere near that milestone. And with each passing year, I wonder if it’s ever in the cards for me.

But, my grandfather taught me an important lesson before he died. This thing I’ve placed on a pedestal, and think will bring me life-long companionship, is fleeting. Marriage can end in divorce, or in my grandfather’s case with his second wife, death. As with everything in life, there are never any guarantees.

I write this not to come across as a crass, bitter bitch, or give off the notion that I no longer believe in love and finding a soul mate. Quite the contrary.

It’s a reminder that this fear of being alone can persist no matter what the circumstances. A reminder to be thankful for what I do have, instead of focusing on what I don’t. A reminder to tell those in my life I love them, and maybe call or write them more frequently so they’re aware how much they mean to me.

My aunt said that as she held my granddaddy’s hand while he drew his last breaths, he seemed at peace. I hope he passed from the physical world no longer fearful of being alone, but thinking of all the people he had impacted throughout his life. Those 100 people at his surprise party were just a small percentage, I'm sure.

Hey, if the shoe fits...

2011-11-15T14:53:00.012-05:00

Last week, I finally went to the doctor after my co-worker noticed my left foot was so swollen it was double the size of my right one. Hello, Shrek foot.

Diagnosis: stress fracture

No cardio of any kind (besides swimming) for two weeks.

No running for six weeks.

AND, I get to rock this awesome looking orthopaedic boot.

Here's a visual (not my actual foot, but you get the idea):

I don't know what's hotter - the shoe or the fact that I walk like Frakenstein when I wear it. I keep trying to adapt some sort of pimp/thug life strut but I'm unfortunately not baller enough to pull that off.

In the meantime, I'm trying to think of some really crazy story to tell people when they ask me what happened. You know - one that would make me look super heroic and badass or even just hilariously idiotic.

Chasing after Ryan Gosling and saving a teacup poodle from oncoming traffic are currently my top contenders. Suggestions welcome.

Seriously though, I'm going through major high heel withdrawals. I stood in front of the Nine West store for a good five minutes during my lunch break today salivating like each pair was a fresh-out-of-the-oven Krispy Kreme donut. Yeah, I'm that pathetic.

And I'm totally burning this orthopaedic p.o.s. as soon as the doc says it can come off...while dancing around in my favorite heels, of course. Fingers crossed for next Wednesday!

A not-so triumphant return to the world of online dating

2011-09-26T16:03:00.010-04:00

I took a pretty lofty hiatus from online dating during the spring and summer months. Much like every exercise routine I try to follow, I just didn't feel like keeping up with it anymore.

Then I saw $60 deducted from my bank account in August for my match.com subscription and figured I should probably attempt to utilize a service I'm paying for. And oddly enough, the online dating sites seem a bit more active during the fall/winter months. I think the most likely reason is at first hint of cool air and the start of football season, us single folk realize that the holidays are right around the corner, and the thought of spending another holiday season alone thrusts us into desperate means to find a mate. So, I updated my profile, added some additional pictures and have resumed life on match.com and okcupid.com.

I had my first date since the account update last week. Unfortunately, I can't say that much has changed.

I met King Charles at an Irish Pub close to both of our apartments. I was about 5 minutes late getting there, and when I got there, he was already seated at the bar with a beer in hand. When the bartender came over to take my order. I selected a Sam Adams Oktoberfest (one of my favorite aspects of fall) and started fidgeting for my wallet. King Charles made zero attempt to put my beer on the tap he clearly already had open, so I quickly realized I needed to actually take out my credit card.

Strike one.

Sadly, it got worse. Or better if you count the story I got out of it. King Charles owns - you guess it, a King Charles Spaniel. Not only that, but when explaining the breed he added, "You know, the same kind as Charlotte had in Sex and the City."

To be fair, he probably gets tons of comments while walking his dog or talking about his dog. It's not exactly the type of dog I'd imagine straight, single males owning. So I'm sure the first jab people throw at him is that he has the same type of dog as Charlotte York. But for the love of God, on a date - a first date at that, I'm not so sure your knowlege of Sex and the City is something you want to flaunt.

On Falling in Love with your Best Friend

2011-06-23T22:48:00.010-04:00

I'm going to go ahead and blame Julia Roberts for making it popular to enter into marriage pacts with your best friend if you aren't married by a certain age.

It didn't work out too splendidly for her, so I should have known it would crash and burn for me.

Essentially, in the past couple of months, I realized that I'm in love with my best friend.

It only took me 12 years.

I met J my sophomore year in high school, but we didn't really become close until our college years. When I was 20, single and slightly bitter, I told him that I was going to wind up as one of those single, crazy old ladies with a bunch of cats. It was then he suggested that we get married at 30 if neither of us had taken the plunge yet.

The thing is, J has always made his feelings for me known to everyone. In front of our friends, he referred to me as the love of his life, woman of his dreams and future wife. I always knew I deeply cared for him, but I pushed it aside as deep love for a friend and considered him along the lines of a brother.

It never occurred to me that I would ever see him differently. That is, until I realized that the feeling I get in my gut when I'm around him is unlike any I've felt around anyone else.

So, I pretty much pounced on him a couple months back when I found out he was back on the market. We kissed, among other things, for the first time that night, and it just felt...right. No awkwardness, no feeling like we shouldn't be engaged in what we're doing. I just kept wondering why it hadn't happened sooner.

That was two months ago. We've been on a couple dates, sent some cute texts back and forth, and had a couple other rendezvous. But I know things aren't where they should be.

So finally, I broke down and asked him where we're at. And I got some roundabout answer, interlaced with a lot of bullshit. He said he's always liked the idea of us, but the timing is off.

When he started throwing out the standard excuses I knew all he really needed to say but didn't have the balls to tell me was: "I like you, just not enough to date you."

And it sucks. I feel like I've been suckered punched. Or at least I did when I finally accepted the reality of the situation.

Because I can handle it when a random guy screws me over. I expect it. It doesn't phase me anymore.

But when it's someone who I've been friends with for years, who has taken care of me when I'm sick, picked me up when I'm drunk and emotional, was by my side at my grandfather's funeral...

...let's just say that I thought that I meant a bit more to him.

So I've done what I've done best - injected myself with a heavy dose of emotional novacaine.

Because it's easier. Easier than facing the sting of rejection. Easier than reliving the fact that his feelings don't match mine. Easier than realizing that I may lose one of my oldest friends.

But I guess that's the risk you take when you try to take a friendship to the next level. Things will never be the same between us.

And God damnit it sucks.

Though this reality - harsh as it may be - is infinitely better than the alternative: staying in limbo and waiting and hoping for that one day when he decides that he's ready to be with me. We've known each other 12 years. If he doesn't know by now, I don't think he ever will.

Words of Wisdom

2011-06-22T11:58:00.006-04:00

"Don't be afraid to be single. It makes you stronger, and your relationships of the future will be stronger, too." - My therapeutic-as-a-glass-of-wine friend who has helped me keep my shit together the past 12 years.

He said this to me via Facebook im while he was in Austrailia for graduate school and I was airing my worries to him that I would never find anyone. I wrote it down and have kept it on my desk at work ever since. When I'm having a "Woe is me...I'm going to be alone the rest of my life" day, it gives me a kick in the ass to stop throwing myself a pity party.

The New 30 - 60 Day Rule

2011-05-16T15:43:00.006-04:00

Is it just me, or is that stupid 3-day rule guys follow increasing exponentially?

I'm not talking by days, or even weeks. I'm talking MONTHS.

Seriously, under what realm of logic do men (at least, the ones I've had the pleasure of befriending) think it's completely acceptable to contact a girl in thirty-to-sixty day increments?

I don't know if it's the warmer temperatures, budding flowers or just the fact that women are now rocking tank tops, skirts and sundresses, but I've received texts from THREE different men in the span of a week who I haven't heard from in at least a month.

And frankly, I'm pretty pissed about it.

Not because I still care about any of these losers, but because it makes me wonder what vibes I am giving off to suggest I'm okay with this type of treatment?

For the sake of a few laughs, let's review the "love notes" I've received over the past week.

Bachelor #1

Quick overview: Personal trainer at a local gym. Met at a bar. Exchanged numbers, texted and talked on the phone the night we met for an hour. Hung out a few days later. I invited him to my apartment, told myself I would not sleep with him but we all know what ended up happening. The next morning, he said he would call me later. That was April 5.

On May 6, I received the following string of texts:

B1: Psst...

An hour passes.

B1: No?

Another hour passes.

B1: Psst...

I wanted to text him back and say: "Look dude, I know I slept with you the first time we hung out, but I don't want to be on your booty call list." But then I thought that would make it look like I still gave a shit.

One of my friends said I should just respond with: "Who is this?" Tempting, and somewhat gives me the upper hand, but that would just instigate futher communication. And I do not want anything to do with this guy.

I should have known he was bad news. His first name is Damion. You know what image comes to mind when I hear that name? That sadistic devil-child from "The Omen."

Bachelor #2

Quick overview: From Texas (that's about all I can remember about him). Met at a bar. Talked for a while before I called it an early night. Exchanged numbers. This was on April 16.

On May 14, (Hey - look at that! He wins the prize for least amount of time lapsed between contact. Only 28 days! Maybe he's a keeper...) I received the following text at 7pm:

B2: Hi Katherine!

I didn't save this guy's number back in April. (I never save a boy's number until I start receiving regular communication from him. This saves me from a) wasting storage space in my phone and b) being tempted to text him at 1 a.m when I'm wasted.) Obviously, I had no clue who the hell was texting me, but I assumed it was the guy I had met this past Saturday night, so I responded.

Me: Hey how's it going?

B2: It's going good...how r you? What r u up 2 tonight?

(For the record, I DETEST this many abbreviations in a text. You are a GROWN MAN, not a 13-year-old girl. B2 was already losing major points, but I was also hoping I could figure out who the hell he was.)

Me: Not too bad, just getting off of work. I'm going to a house party in Arlington. What about you?

B2: Gonna go to a bar in Arlington.

Me: Oh nice. You know which one?

One hour later, at approximately 12:45 a.m...

B2: Spider Kelly's

(Aww...where we first met! How poetic.)

B2: Come!

Unfortunately for B2, I didn't check my phone while at the house party so I could not join him on the lovely rendezvous I'm sure took him weeks to plan.

The next morning when I sobered up enough to think with 1/4 of my brain capacity, I was able to confirm his identity by checking my call log from a month ago.

I wonder if he'll wait another 28 days to contact me...

Coincedence that both these douches have connections to horror films? I think not.

Bachelor #3

Quick overview: You may remember this charmer from this post a while back. Even after that horrendous date, I continued to repsond to his texts and calls, which were still frequent. Problem was, he never initiated coming up here to visit and take me out. He always asked when I'd be back in Richmond and wanted me to drop everything to hang out with him. I was annoyed, over it and relieved when he didn't text me for almost two months.

Then, two weeks ago, he sent me this:

B3: How is it going?

Four days later...

B3: Really?

That was sent after midnight on a Friday night. I didn't get it until I woke up at 9 a.m. Saturday morning. The same time I saw the texts from B1. Needless to say, I was was not in the mood for his nonsense.

Me: I'm not really sure what "really?" is all about, but after not talking to me for 2 months, you really shouldn't expect a response.

B3: I wasn't ignoring you. I haven't heard anything from you either...

Me: Just kinda felt like things fizzled out. No harm, no foul. But please don't randomly text me once every couple months and expect me to respond. I need and deserve more than that.

I won't bore you with the rest. But, I basically got a bunch of shit excuses as to why he waited so long to contact me, while also blaming me for not rearranging my schedule every time I was in town.

Then, he asked if we could hang out again.

I didn't respond for a few days, hoping he'd get the hint, though this guy has the intelligence of a pile of rocks so I should have known he wouldn't. A few days later, he kinda reamed me out, saying that he thought we were at least friends and I shouldn't ignore him.

After shaking my head/banging my forehead against my desk a few times/laughing my ass off, I essentially told him that we were never really friends and I got that feeling that he was going through a dry spell and wanthing to rekindle our hookup sessions, which I was not interested in.

After all that, he still asked if he could treat me to dinner.

Wow...just wow.

And the best part about all this is, he couldn't shell out $30 to buy me food and drinks when we were kinda/sorta dating, but now that I will barely talk to him, he suddenly wants to take me out?

This guy is either the biggest douche in the world or really just that stupid.

Have no fear, though - I still got to see B3 again. I'm not sure if it was just a weird twist of fate or the dating gods just wanted a good laugh, but I ran into him at a bar in Richmond on Sunday afternoon.

Of course, he sauntered on over and tried to talk to me. I made zero effort to carry on a conversation and leaned as far back in my chair as I avoid getting too close to this dude. Then, I downed about three shots because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Hello, Sunday funday!

Unfortunately, I don't have no horror movie to compare him to (his stupidity, is laughable, not frightening), but he does remind me of this little guy:

Why my phone and my purse are BFFs

2011-04-06T23:26:00.006-04:00

I've stopped trying to use Jedi mind tricks on my phone.

There were times where I've waited by the phone for a guy to text/call/facebook message/e-mail me.

Then, I got to the point where I felt so desperate staring at my phone screen, willing it to ring/buzz/light up, that I've started keeping my phone stashed in the confines of my purse. You know, so I'm not tempted to stare at for hours on end.

I actually think some small part of me believes that the guy of the moment is more likely to call if my phone is out of sight, out of mind. I also don't want respond to the call or text right away for fear of seeming too over-eager and available. I have to appear busy and that I have a life of my own, afterall.

So I play this ridiculously juvenile game, all the while pissing off my friends who can't get a hold of me because I'm too busy playing the invisable phone act.

It's stupid.

AND

...it doesn't work. Obviously.

Case in point: I hung out with a guy last Monday, and when he left, he told me he'd call.

I definitely didn't expect him to call (since when do guys contact you when they say they will?) And I haven't been proven wrong. He even had me download this stupid HeyTell app to my droid so we could talk more easily. (It's kinda like a walkie-talkie.) Yeah, um...we can't talk more easily if you aren't going to make an effort to talk to me at all, genius.

Sigh.

You know, what I think it really boils down to, is that I'd rather not have see "no missed calls" or "no new messages" slapping me across my face every five minutes.

Yes, the bottomless pit known as my purse is a much better spot for my phone, buried beneath my color-coded planner, wallet, old movie ticket stubs and last month's cable bill I keep meaning to pay.

I do not posess the luck of the Irish

2011-03-30T15:42:00.013-04:00

I am not Irish. But, like most Americans, I pretend to be every year on March 17th.

This year, I went out with co-workers. Once again, I decided to forego dinner in lieu of Jameson shots and beer. (The results of this are always spectacular.)

By the time we reached bar#3, I was stumbling all over the place and had been flagged as bad news by the bouncer. (So I was told. I don't personally remember.) Here's a visual:

I crashed at a co-workers that night, and was greeted the next morning with your classic hangover symptoms - cotton mouth, throbbing head, churning stomach. Basically, the way you want to feel when you have to go to work for eight hours.

On the drive back into the city, I was rocking my oversized sunglasses, had my jean jacket coverning my face and has passed out in the lap of my co-worker's roommate.

About 20 minutes into the car ride, I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold it together much longer. Plus, I needed to go home and try to make myself presentable for work.

Using every ounce of energy I could muster, I lifted up my head (which felt like it weighed 500 lbs), sat up and tried and figure out where the hell we were. I could tell we were in the city, but that was about all I had.

So, I asked my co-worker if we were near a metro. We weren't. And he had forgotten to drop me off at my apartment.

But really, all I was concerned about was not covering his car with remnants of last night's alcohol and stomach acid. I figured a cab was my best bet anyway, so I said, "I'm getting kinda nauseous and need some fresh air. Plus I need to go home and change. Do you mind letting me out so I can grab a cab?"

Now, at this point, the three other people in the car were convinced I was going to vom any second. I knew I was a good five minutes off from that happening, but I didn't help my cause when I released some form of a hiccup/burp.

Co-worker's roommate yelled "Oh shit!" and scooted as far away from me as he could in a two-door car. Annoyed and tired of feeling like death, I snapped at him, "I'm not three years old. I know when I'm going to puke."

Five seconds later, the light turned red so I hobbled out of the car. Luckily, there was a cab a few cars infront of where I got out because I don't think I had enough brain cells left to figure out which road I should turn down to hail a taxi. Plus, based on my physical appearance, I don't think many cab drivers would have stopped for me.

Once I got inside the cab, I tried to roll down my window and get the fresh air I so desperately needed, but the cab driver squashed those dreams pretty quickly. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure the passenger gets to determine the climate of the cab during the ride in which he/she is paying.

Whatever. I got my vengence a minute later when I made him pull over on Constitution Ave. so I could vomitando.

For those of you not familiar with D.C., Constitution Ave. is the road that passes by the White House, Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial - basically all the major landmarks in our nation's capital. It is also one of the most heavily congested roads in the city.

So basically, during morning rush hour, people were having to swurve around the hungover asshole hanging out of a hybrid taxi (that's right - I was in a Prius).

I think my most favorite part about the whole situation was after I finished decorating Constitution Ave., the cab driver asked if I had been out celebrating St. Patrick's Day.

I really wonder what gave it away...

Maybe it was the green beads I was still sporting around my neck. Or it could have been that a combination of whiskey and beer was seeping through my pores and giving people a block away a contact high. But I think the most likely reason was that he had to pull over for me. At 8 am on a Friday morning. In front of the White House.

Don't you worry, I waved to Obama. I'm sure he's thrilled to have such a citizen of my grace and class representing D.C.

Dissecting Guy Code

2011-03-11T13:41:00.006-05:00

Guy code: much easier to translate than this jibberish.

Actual gchat message I received the other day from a high school friend who I had a brief fall fling with (and who I haven't really hung out with or spoken too sense):

HS fling: How's life kid? We need to catch up. When are you free these days?

Translation:

I'm single, have no prospects and I'm looking for someone to hook up with now that spring is on the horizon and I feel the need to spread my seed.

Too bad guy code wasn't offered as a foreign language in high school. I would have aced that class.

Well, hello there,

2011-03-10T12:16:00.003-05:00

Ben Affleck.

I just saw you in The Town last night and holy majoly do you know how to make a girl swoon. Especially your abs in that work out scene. I could watch you do chin ups for hours.

I know that I've always been partial to your bestie, Matt Damon, (It may be because I stumbled across a movie crew once and an assistant told me you weren't as nice as him in person. And you also had that weird fling with JLo that resulted in the horrific Gigli, but since you're aging so well, I'm willing to overlook all those things.) so I'm sorry for neglecting you. And your abs. And your sex lines.

But we could totally work things out.

Boston is one of my favorite cities, too. And I will go to every Red Sox game. I may spend more time imitating David Ortiz when he does he incessant spitting/hand slapping routine every time he approaches the mound, but I promise I'll be enjoying every minute of the game.

You think about it and get back to me.

In the mean time, I'll be keeping The Town on repeat.

xoxo

Ending things when you're in a casual, not-yet-definable relationship

2011-02-22T23:00:00.015-05:00

Why did the chicken cross the road?
Screw getting to the other side. She was scared as hell to break up with her latest beau.

I'll admit it. I'm a chicken. I hate confrontation.

I can think of a million things I'd rather do than tell someone something I know they don't want to hear. But, it's unfortunately part of dating.

I've never really been in the position where I've had to tell someone I'm not interested after only a few weeks of dating. In the past, the relationships have always led to something more or they just fizzled out on their own.

That all changed this past weekend.

I had been hanging out with a guy for about a month. He was a super sweet guy who I knew would treat me well. The first three dates were fun. Not spectacular, I-was-swept-of-my-feet fabulous, but fun enough that I wanted to continue seeing him.

But by date number four, I started to get annoyed by him. They were stupid, petty reasons - incessant whistling, horrendous dancing, looping his arm through mine when we were walking. I told myself to stop being ridiculous and to give this geniuinely nice guy a chance.

So I did. I gave him about five more dates worth. But I never looked forward to hanging out with him. I always wished I was out with other people or at home on my couch with a glass of wine, watching some quality reality television. It became painfully obvious that something didn't click between us, and I needed to sever ties sooner rather than later.

I talked to my friends about it - just for reassurance that I was making the right decision. My friend Morgan put it best: "Just because he's done nothing wrong, doesn't mean he's right."

I decided to break the news to him before our dinner date this past Sunday. He called when he was outside my apartment and I asked him if he would mind coming upstairs first. Once he got upstairs, he said he probably needed to call the restaurant to change our reservation so we wouldn't be late.

FML, I thought. I can't have him cancel the reservation, so it looks like I'll have to do this post-dinner.

Dinner was...bearable. I've definitely had worse dates but it didn't help that I had to fight the urge to vomit I was so nervous. I had even written out what I was going to say beforehand so I would be prepared.

He kept making suggestions as to what we should do after dinner - grab another drink somewhere, rent a movie. I finally told him that I needed to meet up with Just Jack since his boyfriend had just broken up with him the day before. (This was ironically true, and I did need to be there for JJ, but it may not have been the best thing to say considering I was going to put him in the same boat as the friend I was about to leave him for.)

He was understanding about everything, though, and when the bill came, I offerred to pay my share - there was no way I was going to let him pay for me and then end things five minutes later.

On the way home, he asked what my plans were mid-week. I'm sure I was slightly deer-in-the-headlights when he asked me, but thankfully it was dark so I made some excuse about not having my planner with me and said I'd let him know.

When we got to my apartment and were saying our goodbyes, I almost chickened out. But I had called enough people that evening for moral support that I knew I needed to follow through with it, so when my friends asked, I wouldn't have to tell them I ran for the hills.

My Shakespearian-style monologue went something like this:

So, er, um - I had wanted to talked to you before dinner, but when you mentioned you ahd already made reservations, I figured we should just go ahead and go so we wouldn't, you know, um, be late. And um, I'm not sure who you feel about where things are going, but I have a good time hanging out with you, but um, I ::cough:: feel like you're more in the friend zone. I really do like hanging out with you and I know everyone says this, but I would still love to hang out as friends.

Bear in mind that throughout this entire jumbled mess, I was incessantly shaking, my voice was quivering and couldn't bring myself to look at him in the eyes for longer than .2 seconds.

His response? "Yeah, I've felt the same way for the last couple weeks, honestly."

Now, I'm not sure if he actually did feel that way or if he was trying to save face. But either way, I was just relieved to get the whole thing over and done with.

And in hindsight, I'm glad I told him to his face. I thought about freezing him out, sending him a text or calling him. But I bitch and moan enough about guys who just stop all forms of communication out of nowhere so I felt like it was good karma - and the mature route - to say everything in person.

I almost think it's harder to dump someone when you're in the beginning stages of dating. If you could really even classify it as breaking up. I mean - what are you really to a guy you've gone on maybe 10 dates with? Certainly not his girlfriend. Maybe that's what makes it so difficult. When you never make it to that next level. In essence, you're being broken up with because you're not good enough for that person - be it because of looks, personality, mannerisms, weird quirks.

Further down the road, when you're in a relationship, sure it hurts more. But that initial rejection stings like hell. I've felt it before, and I know I'll feel it again. Which made it so hard to do it to someone else.

It's also entirely possible that this guy didn't give two shits that I ended things. And maybe guys don't feel the same way girls do when this happens to them.

I just tend to put other people's feelings above my own and stay with guys way longer than I should to avoid situations like the one on Sunday night. So, as lame as this sounds, it was kind of a dating milestone for me. I've reached a lot of those, lately.

Dear God, do I still have a lot to learn.

I may be Dutch...but I'm not a fan of going dutch on the first date

2011-02-15T17:47:00.011-05:00

See this? It's not rocket science, fellas.

There have been countless articles, books and debates about guys picking up the tab, particularly on the first date. Uber-traditionalists will tell you that a guy should always pay. Uber-feminists will tell you that it's demeaning for you to let them pay.

I guess my views would be somewhere in the middle. I do expect a guy to pay on the first few dates, but I think it is unfair for them to pay for EVERYTHING. So as I go on more and more dates with a guy, I'll pay my share or even the whole bill. However, I always do the "reach for my wallet grab" or offer to contribute.

Most guys adamantly refuse. One guy was even shocked at my offer and asked if any guy had ever accepted. At the time, none of them had.

But as I get older and go on more and more dates, I'm experiencing more and more categories of men. Many of whom should not even be allowed to date.

When I was back in Richmond over the holidays, I met a guy. A fellow Steelers fan. It was a Thursday night. Pitt was playing Carolina. I dragged my bff, SK, to the bar to cheer on my team. And I was decked out in black and yellow.

So this guy approached me and we start talking. And then we end up at a different bar and numbers were exchanged.

I hung out with him a couple more times while I was in town and he hinted at continuing to see each other.

I didn't take him too seriously, so I was pleasantly surprised when he asked me to come visit a couple weekends later. I decided to drive down for only a night, because we had just started talking or whatever the hell you want to call it, and I thought it would be weird for me to stay with him an entire weekend while we are still seeing where things were going.

So, I got to his house late afternoon and we decided to go out to dinner. I was on the phone when the check came (I promise I'm not a rude phone-talking date...I was touching base with a friend we were meeting up with after dinner) and while I was talking to her, I saw him open up the tab, and place the receipt face up so that I could see it, too. I thought it was weird that he was showing me how much the meal cost, but when I finished my conversation, it was obvious why. He immediately turned to me and said, "Ready to settle up?"

I'm pretty sure my mouth dropped a little. I'd heard of guys doing this, but it had never actually happened to me.

I would like to stay the story ends there, but sadly, it does not.

After dinner, we went to a bar to meet up with some of his friends. I had SK come, too for moral support.

When the time came to close our bar tab, which was sitting in a highball glass right in front of him, he looked at the receipt, pulled a $100 bill out of his wallet, and sat it back on the bar. After a few seconds, he grabbed the $100, shoved it back into his wallet, pulled out a $20 and some ones, and then turned to me and asked if I had a couple bucks.

After telling him that all I had was a $5, he said, "that works," took the last of my cash and we left. (Side note: Thank God SK was there. Not only did she have my back and make a "you have got to be effing kidding me" sound when he asked me for money, but I didn't remember giving him my $5 and had to ask her if she knew what had happened to it the next day.)

As if this doesn't make him look bad enough already, I feel it necessary to breakdown everything that's wrong in this equation.

He invited me to spend part of the weekend with him.
I drove there - which already cost me $30 in gas and wear and tear/mileage on my car.
I don't know his exact age, but he's in his late 30's - early 40's.
He owns his own company, so combined with the age difference, he definitely makes more money than me.
The drinks he had at the restaurant and the bar were more expensive than mine.
He took the last of my cash when he clearly had enough to cover the bill.
When you ask a girl out, it's common courtesy to pay for her.

I really didn't think it took a genius to figure this out, but clearly, there are some dense toolbags running around.

So fast forward a few weeks and he's still texting me, and I don't know why, but I'm still responding. He asked me to meet up with him when I was in town a couple weeks ago. I had plans to attend to a friend's birthday party, but I told him he should join. He made it pretty clear he didn't even want to make the effort when he told me to text him if it was fun, and if not, that I should come to wherever he ended up.

Yeah, um...I didn't bother. If you can't drive 15 minutes to see me when I'm in town then you don't deserve to hang out with me. And I'm not desperate - I shouldn't be the one constantly coming to you.

I hadn't heard from him since and thought that was the end of it. But SK ran into him last night so the texts have started up again. The best part of all this is he told her that he thought because the Steelers lost the Super Bowl I was upset and needed some time.

Um...did you just pee your pants laughing? Because I sure as hell did when SK told me that.

Either that is the lamest guy excuse in the world for going MIA on a girl for a few weeks or he is just the biggest dumbass EVER.

You know, if anything - these schmucks are providing some laughs and some damn good blog fodder.

Navigating through the bullshit

2011-01-25T17:44:00.008-05:00

Like most girls, I grew up entranced by Disney movies with princesses living happily ever after with their respective prince. My two favorites were "Cinderella" and "Sleeping Beauty," and I apparently watched those on repeat until my parents "lost" the VHS so they wouldn't be subjected to "Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo" for the millionth time. (Just kidding about the hiding the movie part...though the rents probably considered it on multiple occasions.)

By the time middle school and high school rolled around, I had upgraded from animated love stories to craptastic romantic comedies such as, "She's All That," "10 Things I Hate About You," and "Save the Last Dance." (Sadly, I own all these movies...and watch them everytime they come on TV. Super lame, I know.)

Now, the recent trend seems to be raunchy comedies starring Seth Rogen/Jason Segel/Paul Rudd. Don't get me wrong, I adore all these movies. They're hysterical.

HOWEVER, they are perpetuating the cycle of fairy tales for single women who have grown up being spoon-fed lie after lie.

Let me 'splain.

In the preschool/elementary school years, we're taught that a prince on a white horse will sweep us off our feet and we'll ride off into the sunset in domestic bliss.

By the time we're old enough to realize that there are approximately 8 princes in the entire world (and most of them are imbred), we're thrown a new heaping of bullshit.

Princes aren't realistic or attainable for the everyday girl, so he gets replaced by the hottest, most popular guy/biggest badass in school - enter Freddie Prinze Jr., Heath Ledger, Chris Klein, etc. They will ultimately be an deuche and make fun of you or they may not even know you exist. But by the end of the movie they've fallen head over heels for you and go to great lengths to show it - typically by chasing you down when you've decided they aren't worth your time and they have to prove to you they are.

Then high school comes and goes, along with the facade that men actually perform romantic gestures, and we enter college/the real world/a combination of the two.

No matter which one you enter first, the guys are all the same. It's become impossible for them to think with the head located above their belt, and they make it their goal in life to hook up with as many girls as possible because they're young and at the peak of their sex drive.

So, as women, we start getting used...A LOT. Because it takes a few times before we understand what a booty text is, or that a guy might not be taking us out to dinner because he actually wants to date us, or that he may come over a few times and "cuddle," but the moment we sleep with him, he pulls the disappearing man act.

Then someone hands us a copy of "He's Just Not That Into You," or we develop tough enough skin to the point where we become immune to any sort of romantic emotions at all. Because sometimes, it's easier to be numb.

And just when we thought we've got it all figured out, Hollywood execs find another way to fuck with our minds and pull at our heartstrings.

Because it's totally likely that a guy will stop being a pot head, get a real job, buy an apartment and want to marry you after a one-night stand resulted in you getting knocked up.

It's also nothing out of the ordinary for a self-proclaimed man-whore who insists love doesn't exist to fall for an up-tight, controlling woman and throw all his old theories out the window.

So, go ahead, ladies! Whore it up! Store guy(s) in your phone as "booty call." Have as much no- strings-attached sex as you want and fall for the assholes, because, ultimately they will profess their undying love and adoration for you. It's the new guaranteed way to land yourself a man!

Written out in black and white, it seems so obvious.

But the problem is - my problem is, stuff like this:

and this: and this:

...still make me swoon. Every time.

So, as women, how do we navigate between keeping our guard up, but not becoming a total Ice Queen, and wanting the fairy tale, but not getting our heart broken over and over again?

When I figure it out, I'll let you know.

At the end of the day, I know I want my own real life love story - one that would beat the hell out of any of these movies, but I'll pass on the fairy tale. How much fun would that be anyway?

Ringing in the New Year with a...Peck??!!

2011-01-04T15:46:00.006-05:00

Happy 2011!

Since I have such lofty aspirations for myself, I made it my goal for the last day of 2010 to find a delectable make-out partner to ring in the new year.

Problem is, I'm not so great when it comes to approaching men. I usually timidly hover by the bar, downing tequila shots in attempt to work up some liquid courage while sending brain waves to the hottie of the night to come talk to me. If I do grow a pair and actually talk to the guy first, my pick-up line usually consists of, "Hi, I'm Miss Procras. Wanna dance?"

Luckily, SK, one of my nearest and dearest, spent the weekend with me. Girlfriend is a rockstar when it comes to approaching men and helped me land the guy I had been eyeing the entire night.

Unfortunately for me, dream boy wasn't one for PDA, so my midnight make-out sesh was downgraded to a few pecks. I've had steamier kissing escapades in middle school. Specifically, while sitting in the back row of the movie theater "watching" 'Titanic' for the twelfth time. Ahh memories...

But seriously, who the eff cares about PDA on New Years Eve??

I just hope this isn't symbolic of what my love life will consist of in 2011...

Why Ditching your Date is a Totally Viable Option

2010-12-09T12:39:00.006-05:00

If he shows up as your date, it's perfectly acceptable to run in the other direction. (Unless of course, your idea of a fun date is hiding in a closet.)

A couple weeks ago, one of my favorite bloggers (and authors...her first book comes out in January) posted on a must-read topic for all my single ladies (and gents) out there: Ditching the Date (on the date).

I never in a million years thought I'd actually ditch my date during the actual outing. I mean, it just seemed rude and disrespectful and I figured I was tough enough stomach any narcissism, Star Wars obsession or inappropirate behavior Rico Suave threw my way until the date was over.

Now, I'm a firm believer that it's totally cool to cut and run...or befriend someone else at the dating location if your date isn't treating you with the respect you deserve.

I was on date #2 with this guy, I'll refer to him as JD (for Josh Duhammel, because they both can't seem to figure out when it's inappropriate to use a cell phone). The first date was slightly below average but I tend to give people second chances even when they don't deserve them.

Anyway, JD asked me if I wanted to go see a movie and I accepted.

First, he asked me to look up movie times - Strike One. You're the guy, you invited me, you do your own damn research! (I wish I had said that, but I didn't. I need to stop being so damn nice.

We decided to grab a beer beforehand. So, at the bar, as I brought out a post-it note with movie times, JD pulled out his phone. I eventually asked him if he got his work e-mail sent to his phone because he was typing that long. Turns out, he was texting and said something about family drama. I figured he'd eventually put the phone away or apologize and say he needed to take care of the situation.

JD did neither. Instead, he kept texting novels to his brother and the time kept slipping by until it was completely obvious we wouldn't be seeing a movie.

I left the bar a few times to call friends for advice. I had no clue how to handle this situation - it was just unbelievably ridiculous. When I came back to the bar, the guy sitting next to me talked up trivia so much that I decided to stay.

It was about that time that I looked directly behind me and saw an ex-fling sitting at a table with three of his friends. (Sometimes I really think my life is a sitcom.)

I waved and said hello, then went back to getting my ass kicked in trivia and being ignored by JD.

At one point, he was outside the bar for a good thirty minutes talking on his phone. So when ex-fling invited me to sit with him, I decided it was about time I ditch the douche.

The most hilarious part of this whole situation? When JD returned from his phone call, he proceeded to get wasted off of Patron shots and then ask me why I wasn't inviting him back to my place when I told him I was leaving.

Wow - Douchey AND delusional.

How does one get to be so socially inept? And how did I get lucky enough to go on a date with him?

I'm thankful...

2010-11-24T11:58:00.003-05:00

...that I've never been handed one of these.

I'm curious if any member of the male race (or female, for that matter), has ever ordered this hilarious alternative to business cards. I'm even more curious to know the success rate of these bad boys.

I, for one, would totally be calling, texting and e-mailing Mr. Chad Fulton, stand-up guy. Who knows? I might even get a little crazy and facebook him, even though his card doesn't say to. I like to walk on the wild side, and something tells me Chad does, too.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

I just like smiling...smiling's my favorite

2010-11-22T16:09:00.004-05:00

I have ventured into the world of online dating.

It's not so bad. No horror stories...yet.

But I have found that a majority of these guys are a tad on the dorky side.

Now, I'm not snobby enough to think I don't have my own dorkish tendencies - I correct spelling and grammatical errors on practically everything I read and I get excited when I see things in Latin (I took it for 5 years in middle/high school and then for 2 semesters in college).

However, these dudes tend to be mildly socially awkward and just a bit too dull for my liking. I need a little wit, sarcasm and friendly banter mixed in.

On Saturday, I went on a second date with a guy who fit this description. He was sweet and I mildly enjoyed our first date, so I thought, What the hell? Maybe he was just nervous on the first date and would come out of his shell for date #2.

...I thought wrong.

As we're standing at the host stand, waiting to be pointed in the direction of a sparkling wine tasting event he turns to me and says, "So...what's your favorite color?"

My initial thought was - I haven't been asked this question since second grade when it was cool to bond over cerulean and red-violet crayons. Then, the mental image of Will Ferrell answering the phone with, "Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?" popped into my head and I literally had to bite my tongue and turn my head to keep from laughing in this poor guy's face. Thank God the host came up right then so I didn't actually have to answer that question.

As sweet as this guy was, I just don't think I can stomach any more questions that should only asked by seven-year-olds and elves.

Justa, justa, justa, justa, justa...justa little bit

2010-11-09T16:28:00.010-05:00

That Aretha Frankin really knows how to put the female power in a ballad.

I know all my posts are about being single and figuring out my shiz, but this is basically what my life consists of now.

I mentioned previously that I dated an older guy for about a month before he went bat-shit crazy. Well, what I left out was that the first time we went out for drinks the bar was doing a raffle and I won a free trip to Vegas. Woohoo!

However....I ended up leaving the folder detailing my winnings in his car. Homeboy still has said folder. FML.

I still talk to this guy occasionally on Facebook, and made plans to have dinner and drinks with him two weeks ago. I completely forgot that I had plans to attend the High Heel Race (one of my favorite D.C. events) with Just Jack that were set in stone a good two months ahead of time.

So, I cancelled dinner plans, but asked if we could reschedule via text. No response.

A few days later, I sent a Facebook message apologizing and asking again if we could reschedule or if not, that we needed to swap some items still in the other person's posession. (I still have one of his hats.) Still no response.

Today, I saw him on Facebook and sent him a message. We started talking. He said we should still meet for dinner/drinks and exchange each other's posessions.

Good, great, grand, wonderful! Call me selfish, but I just want to go on that free trip to Vegas.

Well...then, this guy started in on the sexual innuendo. Here are some shining examples:

"You know, I haven't had sex since the last time I was with you. I'm all cranky. Can you help?"

and

"Maybe we can just be dinner, drinks and sex buddies once in a while."

Ew, ew and ew. I know I previously had sex with this guy, but that was two months ago and doesn't mean I want to now. It made me feel demeaned, disgusted and worthless.

I tried to be diplomatic about this all (just until that folder was back in my possession), so I said - dinner and drink buddies sound good to me.

Normally diplomacy is a good thing...unless you're dealing with a certifiably crazy person.

First, he got all huffy and short because I wasn't saying what he wanted to hear. Then, when I tried to tell him what he was saying made me uncomfortable, he blamed me and said that I started it all by referring to him as a DILF when we were still hanging out TWO MONTHS AGO. Finally, after trying to understand why he was "confused" and explaning my stance on the situation, he responded with: "Fair enough - this is really going nowhere. Starting to bore me." And signed off.

So after making inappropriate comments and making me feel like a whore, you're going to lose your temper, try to manipulate me into thinking this is somehow my fault and then do the Facebook equivalent of a hang-up?

Real classy/mature/stand-up of you. It's a wonder you're still single at your age.

But here's my question - should I have expected him to talk to me the way he did? Just because I had sex with him when we were hanging out, does that give him the right to make repeated sexual references now and treat me with a complete lack of respect?

I want to say no, but I still can't help feeling that I somehow brought this on myself, and made it okay for him to demoralize me...

Booty Texting Etiquette

2010-11-02T15:26:00.005-04:00

I may have mentioned this once or twice, but I had a boyfriend the first two years I was in college, so when I became single right before my junior year, it was basically like sacrificing a lamb to a pack of wolves.

I didn't understand the concept of booty texts - I just figured whenever I heard from a guy, be it 10 p.m. or 2 a.m., it was a good sign. Ha! What a silly 20-year-old I was.

Now that I'm 26 and in the same predicament, I feel like I'm more immune to all the shenanigans guys try to pull.

Case in point:

Guy trying to hit on me at a bar: Are you a model?
Me: You're full of shit.

I've become cynical in a lot of ways. I think any guy that hits on me is just trying to get in my pants - and I'm sure 98% of them are. But those 2% that aren't probably think I'm a bitter bitch.

Even though I've come along way from my doe-eyed college years, I've still got a lot to learn. Guys are sneaky, sneaky bastards.

You see, I started hanging out with this guy from high school recently. He stayed over a few times, and NOTHING ever happened. I was baffled that he never tried to put a move on me. Well, that all changed when he was my date to a friend's wedding. We hooked up and after the wedding, I didn't hear from him much. (He used to text me all the time to see how my day was going, etc.) I just assumed he got what he wanted and I would never hear from him again.

WRONG!

Over the weekend, I got a text from him at 2:20 a.m. that said "Hey are u out?"

[Side note: another guy was in my bed, and he heard my phone go off so he grabbed it for me. I looked it at, said "Oh-booty text" and threw it back on the floor. God knows what was going through that guy's mind. He probably did a little fist pump thinking that he could start booty texting me, too.]

Anyway, when I was going over this scenario with one of my guy friends, he asked if it was a personalized or generic booty text. I had never even thought to analyze one of those to that degree, but he made a valid point. When I told him what it said, he confirmed that was most definitely a send-to-all-potential-hookups-text.

I felt so stupid for not even thinking that five other girls had probably received the exact same text at the exact same time.

What's even stranger is that this guy texted me as if nothing had happened two days later at 7 p.m., asking me what I was up to.

I hate to say it, because I had started to become pretty good friends with this guy, but why bother texting me anymore at all? Wouldn't it be easier to just have a cut and dry split?

Essentially, I think a guy should act one of two ways if he doesn't want anything other than ass from a girl after a one-night stand:

1) Don't contact her - no texts, facebook chats or smoke signals. That way, the girl isn't left second guessing a guy's true intentions.

2) TELL HER all you want is a booty call. In my 26 years, not once has a guy done this. I finally laid it out for a guy when he tried to make excuses for not wanting a relationship. Truth be told, I didn't want one with him, either - I knew all we had in common was under the sheets. Now, we both equally send 2 a.m. texts and it works out fine because neither of us expect it to go further than that.

I think most guys would agree that those two options are easier in the long run than dragging things out unnecessarily or having to break things off with a girl when the relationship gets more serious than they can handle. But, most guys are cowards or assholes, so I don't think things will be changing anytime soon.

Why is hitting the delete button so GD hard?!?!

2010-11-01T14:24:00.004-04:00

I have a hard time letting go of things.

I blame this on my mother - she's uber sentimental and can't bring herself to throw away my henious self portrait from fourth grade or the dress I wore to church for Christmas in 1992.

I'm like this with notes, cards and text messages.

I've deleted all but two of The Hoff's texts to me from when we were together. They were the last two he sent me before we broke up.

And the first guy I've really gotten smitten with after The Hoff? I kept all his texts for a good month and a half after we stopped talking. Yesterday, I finally said - enough is enough - this guy isn't worth the storage capacity in my phone and deleted them all. It's an empowering feeling, but sad at the same time.

I'm like this with any sort of note or greeting card, too. I throw every single card I receive into a shopping bag. I just feel like those are things that should be treasured and saved, not tossed aside.

But sometimes I wonder if keeping Valentine's Day cards from my college boyfriend is the healthiest thing in the world. It's not like I read them very often, but the thought of holding onto a chapter of my life that is closed seems a little pathetic.

I think I like to remind myself that I was once treasured enough to receive a "thinking of you" text or a "happy birthday - you mean the world to me" card. I like reading them over and over, and feeling the giddy rush I felt when I first read them. But maybe getting rid of these things is part of the healing process, allowing me to let go a little more of a person who is no longer an everyday part of my life.

I feel like I'm learning a lot from being single. And I need to start letting go of things sooner. These little reminders do nothing but hold me back, and I want to keep moving forward.

So delete button, you and I might soon become fast BFFs.

How to win over your date - i.e. guarantee you'll get asked out again

2010-10-05T11:54:00.007-04:00

I'm clearly a little rusty at this whole dating thing, since I haven't been single in basically four years.

But I had a date this past Thursday night. A first date to be more specific.

We decided to meet for drinks, and I suggested the best happy hour spot in Arlington, because, well...I like to get my drink on.

I proceeded to have two ginormous mugs of beer (you seriously need two hands to grip these bad boys...that's what she said), a shot and a vodka tonic...on an empty stomach. Because drinking your dinner is always a splendid idea.

Halfway through my mixed drink/night cap, I definitely started to feel the effects of my libations. I tried to play it cool by challenging my date to arcade basketball and masterfully concealing my left eye so he couldn't see it do its drunken half open/half closed thing:

If that doesn't scream sexy, I don't know what does.

Yeah, um....mission FAILED. I'm not sure if it was the drunk eye or insistence on drunk food that gave it away, but it was completely obvious I was shit-housed.

So, being the gentleman that he is, my date offered to drive me home. And I decided the best way to show my gratitude would be to get into his car, recline the seat back as far as it would go and immediately pass the eff out.

Can we say Classy, table for one?

Obviously, I never thought I'd hear from this guy again. I mean, between downing drinks and becoming comatose at the end of the night, I clearly I presented myself as prime dating material - the kind of girl you would totally want to introduce to mom and dad.

At least that's what went through my mind the next day as I told the story to my friends, while laughing hysterically at my hot mess of a self.

I guess I really shouldn't be surprised - boy logic never ceases to amaze me - but, I have another date with this guy tonight. Maybe he just likes lushes or maybe he's a glutton for punishment, I don't know. What I do know is I completely abandoned any standard etiquette guidelines for behavior on a first date.

So now the real question is, do I keep up the lush act or behave myself this evening??

Since I honestly can't remember if I clicked at all with this guy or not (shocking, I know), I'll just have to wait and see how the date goes. Sometimes these things can be so painful you HAVE to drink yourself into oblivion.

Hopefully I'll have an equally exciting story to share after date #2.

Well, hello again, singledom.

2010-09-16T14:00:00.005-04:00

It's been a while. I can't say that I've missed you - not even the teeniest little bit. You bring a lot of baggage - insecurity, mixed signals, creepy pick-up lines, bad sex - to name a few. And I kind of hate dealing with you.

But what choice do I have?

-Become a hermit and stay locked away in my room?

-Devote myself to a lifetime of celibacy and check into the nearest convent?

Since neither of those seem like viable options, looks like I'm stuck with you and your sick sense of humor.

Let's discuss what you've done to me in the two short months you've come back into my life:

I. Staged a run-in with an ex-fling. Since this random encounter, I have been the lucky recipient of late-night booty texts...some as late as 4:30 a.m. and all with my name misspelled. I have one of the most common names in America, and this genius can't even get that right - EPIC FAIL.

II. Allowed me to experience what it's like to date someone almost 20 years older than me. It was nice for a couple weeks - the chivalry, wining and dining, insistance on pleasing me in bed (side note: is it just me or could most twenty-something year-old males not give two shits about whether or not they get a girl off?).

Anywho, a few weeks in it became painfully obvious why that big of an age gap doesn't usually work. I still want to date around and party, and he couldn't deal with me going out regularly and hanging out with other guys. It was borderline a little crazy, so I don't even want to know how he'd act if we were exclusive.

But the real kicker is, when we finally decided to end our "fling" (via facebook instant messenger, none the less...yeah, real classy), he asked if we could have sex one last time.

a) I've never been asked that before b) it made me feel like a whore and c) HELL NO!

III. Gotten me smitten with a guy who told me he wasn't looking for anything serious the third time we hung out. I've heard that song and dance enough times to know that's code for "I like you, just not enough to date you." But instead of writing him off, I did the typical I'm-a-girl-and-I'm-going-to-over-analyze-everything-he-says-and-does-to-convince-myself-he-likes-me routine. And guess what? It's been almost two weeks, and I haven't heard from him. I've stopped overanalyzing and accepted that he's just not that into me, but it still effing sucks.

Oh, singledom, I can't tell you how excited I am to be 26 and back at the starting line, having to wade through all the crazies, assholes and bullshit you throw my way to find a decent guy. But, you definitely keep things interesting - so, bitch:

Bring.
It.
On.

So, that whole grad school thing...

2010-09-09T11:59:00.003-04:00

...don't think it's gonna happen. Not right now at least.

I signed up for one class. On Thursday nights from 7:20 - 10 p.m.

Let's think of the problems with this scenario:

1) I won't get home in time for Jersey Shore.
2) That's prime time for Thursday night debauchery.
3) I have to get from downtown D.C. to Fairfax during rush hour. Yes, I could rely on mass transit; however, at 10 p.m. the metro runs every 20 minutes and then I have to take a bus which runs every 30 minutes back to my apartment. So we're looking at midnight arrival time. This leaves driving as the alternative - after metroing and taking the bus to my apartment. Getting from Arlington to Fairfax should theoretically take 20 minutes. In rush hour, it takes 45 mins - 1 hour. Then, I have to pay $9 for parking each week (the equivalent of 6 beers at Whitlows mug night).

Some mayjah negatives.

Plus, I'm just not sure I'm ready to give up a huge chunk of my time drinking/socializing/crashing on the couch for hours on end to write term papers and read 500 pages a week.

Six months ago, I was trapped in a job I detested and thought there was no way out. Grad school seemed like a way out. At least a way to open up more job opportunities.

Now, I like my job and I no longer feel like grad school is my only salvation. I've already found it.

And shelling out $1400 per class seems mighty stupid for something I'm not so sure I want. It's like buying a pair of shoes I know I'll never wear.

So yeah....I'm going to drop my class for this semester. I still have next semester to sign up if I change my mind. But right now life is looking pretty good the way it is.

I'll Get By with a Little Help From My Friends

2010-09-03T10:06:00.004-04:00

Per yesterday's post, we all know how splendid the Red Sox game with The Hoff went.

By the fifth inning, I was so annoyed with watching him incessantly text another girl, I finally broke out my phone for moral support.

Me: So, The Hoff keeps texting this girl right in front of me. So awkward and weird!

SK: Oh that's just great! Is it the slut from your blog? I just read that the other day. [Ed. note: she was referring to FTW]

Me: No, it's some girl named Dee. Who the eff is named Dee??

SK: Dee Snider hahahahahah

The thought of The Hoff texting someone who looks like Dee Snider made me spew my beer all over the place and almost fall out of my seat.

Please to enjoy pictures of this handsome specimen of a human being.

Here he is in his glory days as the frontman of Twisted Sister:

These days, he looks more like this:

Friends make everything better. And to those of you who have listened to the all the drama and provided a shoulder to cry on or a much-needed laugh - THANK YOU. It means more than you know.

And now, I'm off to enjoy this fabulous 3-day weekend! Happy Labor Day/excuse to drink on Sunday night!!

Becoming "friends" with your ex

2010-09-02T10:49:00.006-04:00

You ever feel like you have so much going on you just don't know what to write/say?

Where to even begin.....

I guess, first things first, The Hoff and I are officially no more. He came over a couple weeks ago and told me that he thought it would be best for us to make our break permanent, since he could never fully trust me. It kind of knocked me on my ass, honestly. I felt like Jennifer Aniston in the "Break Up," hoping that by not being with me The Hoff would miss me so much that he'd want to do whatever it takes to resolve our issues and be together.

Well, things didn't turn out so hunky-dory for Jen and they certainly didn't go any better for me. At least she got a nice dinner out of it and an attempt at salvaging. I got nothin'.

I will say though, it's nice that The Hoff and I didn't have some horrendous break up where we can't even stand to look at each other. We're still "friends." As much of a friend you can be with someone who used to know every inane detail about your day and who you shared all of your intimate secrets with. Someone who is now regulated to the status of receiving random gchats or texts every few days and awkward silences when you do finally hang out in person. Because really, after the obligatory "how's work going?", "how are your roommates?", "the weather we're having is hot-as-balls" chit-chat, what is there left to say?

I don't want to know what girls he's met, who exactly he's been bar hopping with on weekends, how he's thrown away every card I ever wrote him...

Trecherous terriorty to venture into, folks.

And when we do hang out, I want to hold his hand, call him the pet name I so creatively/nauseatingly created for him and have him kiss my forehead the way he always did to let me know that everything is okay in the world.

But it's not. The Hoff and Miss Procras. chapter is over. And the reality of that slaps me across the face everytime we hang out.

Like last night.

For his birthday (which was in May), I bought tickets to the Red Sox vs. Orioles game. Nothing too horrific happened. The Hoff just kept pulling out his phone, texting someone repeatedly who had a name that more than likely belonged to a female. Of course, being a girl, my mind started wandering. I mean, who does a guy text multiple times while he's watching his favorite sports team? I gotta assume it's to converse with a girl he's interested in/wants to sleep with, but that's just me. (Side note: I did some Facebook stalking this morning and confirmed it most definitely is a girl around my age, who is cute, which makes it that much more of a low blow.)

Granted, I hold no claim to The Hoff. He is a free man who can text, hang out with and date whoever he pleases. But to text someone so blatantly infront of the person you spent the last two years of your life with, the person who is taking you out for your birthday, well...that sucks.

No other word for it. It just plain and simple sucks.

So, I guess the age old question remains - can exes be friends?

I think to a certain extent, yes. I'll never have the type of relationship with The Hoff that I once did. I'm pretty sure it will remain a very surface-level friendship. But, I can still laugh with him and have fun.

And at the end of the day, I can look back at the past two years and smile. I don't think of the fights or harbor bitterness toward anything that happened. I think of all the trips we went on as a couple, our inside jokes that only made us keel over laughing and all the new experiences I shared with The Hoff. Are there some things I'd do differently? Absolutely. But I've come out of this relationship a better person. And I think that's really all anyone can ask for.

Always the mistress, never the wife?

2010-07-23T09:23:00.008-04:00

I used to joke in college that I would always be the mistress and never the wife when all I could find were one-night stands, not serious relationships. It was funny then.

Four years and two long-term relationships later, it's not so funny any more.

Do I have some gene that makes me unmarry-able?

Will I end up like Samantha in SATC, or worse - a 72-year-old single woman with 9,000 cats to keep me company?

Let me back up for a minute - the reason for this pity party is The Hoff and I are on a break. We both decided it would be best to take some time and figure out if we're truly meant for each other.

The more I think about it though, the more I wonder - shouldn't we know by now? Choosing a lifelong partner should not be this hard. I've always heard that when you know, you know. And neither of us do.

We hung out last night, for the first time since we decided to take a break (which was less than a week ago).

Worst idea EVER.

It was his roommate's birthday, so there were tons of other people around. The Hoff and I don't even know how to act around each other right now much less when all our friends are around = most awkward situation I've ever been in.

To make matters worse, one of The Hoff's friends (who is a girl and who I'm not the biggest fan of) showed up. For blogging purposes, I'll refer to her as FTW (Fake Tan Whore). I won't bore you with all the details, but basically I just feel like she never respected my relationship with The Hoff. She's a flirty person, who apparently has a "boyfriend." I say "boyfriend" because I don't think anyone has ever actually met the guy.

Needless to say, I've tried to be as nice as I can to this girl while suppressing the urge to beat her with my 4-inch stilletos. (The grungy ones I used to wear to frat parties. Don't want to ruin a good pair of heels.)

Last night, when The Hoff and I were arguing, she tried to pull me away from him so we could chat. I ignored her. So then she got in my face, called me crazy and went on some tirade about how The Hoff and her are just friends. I walked away.

I could sit here and slam FTW until I'm blue in the face, but at the end of the day, it's not about her. It's about me and The Hoff.

I think we sometimes misplace our hurt anger on the other person, because it's so hard to believe the person we love and care about most in the world would do something to hurt us so badly. But that's the risk you take when you fall in love.

And I'm so hurt by The Hoff right now. I feel like he put FTW above me last night. When we were still together, I kept wondering what she has that I don't to make him want to be so close to her. Is she a better listener? Does she laugh at his jokes more? Does she make him feel more wanted than I do? And what's worse - now that we're on a break, I know that she's the one he's confiding in. It's hard enough to see your ex get close with someone else, but when it's with someone you know doesn't like or respect you, it makes it that much harder.

To FTW: if you happen to stumble upon this (it is easily accessbile thanks to the grand and glorious interwebs), as much as I think you'd like it to be, it's never been about you. May you never have to endure your own significant other getting friendly with someone like you.

To The Hoff: I just want you to be happy. I hope that you find whatever or whoever it is that can make you smile everyday.

I'm a Big Kid Now

2010-07-15T13:44:00.007-04:00

I started my new job on Monday.

I now ride the Metro to work, read the newspaper during my 20-minute commute and get this....

have

own

office!!

With my own window and everything.

Holy shit do I feel official!!

I suddenly feel the need to go out and buy office decor. You know, make it home-y. Maybe even feng-shui my work nest to promote a serene, productive environment. (Ha!)

Let's be real, the more likely scenario is for me to hang posters similar to those gracing the walls in my college dorm room. I.e. pieces of art such as:

and

Yes, that is a poster depicting different kinds of mullets and yes, I actually had this hanging up during my college years. Don't ask me why, but I think mullets are the most hilarious things ever. I even have a code word for when I see them out and about - you can't master the art of mullet hunting without a kick-ass code word.

And of course, I'll also need the obligatory DMB, Animal House and shirtless Paul Walker posters adorning my walls.

I think I'd be the hit of the office and the new favorite employee of the CEO.

The most hilarious thing about my new job though has to be that blogging has helped me. Seriously. I'm editing and posting web content using a program eerily similar to blogger. I never thought blogging would help me in the professional world but I am living, breathing proof that it can.

And I'm pretty sure this job will also help me develop a cooler blog once I start learning more about HTML coding. It's a win-win situation really.

In all seriousness, I'm really excited about this gig. I think it will really broaden my skills and experience and open a lot of new doors for me professionally.

It's an adjustment riding the crowded metro, weaving around the homeless people scattered up and down the streets, paying $10 for lunch and getting used to the all the hustle and bustle of a city. But I think I'm gonna like it. It doesn't hurt that there's a bar at the ground floor of my office. Coincedence? I think not.

I've got a feeling...that 26 is gonna be a good year

2010-06-29T15:23:00.003-04:00

Time for my monthly update (I still can't believe I've only been posting once a month.) But a lot has happened in June.

In the past 30 days, I've been accepted into grad school, celebrated my 26th birthday and been offered a new job.

First of all, I'll be staying in D.C.! The decision was basically made for me (I got into one grad school program and not the other) so it was nice not having to choose between the two.

I celebrated my 26th birthday by drinking sangria and wine at the National Sculpture Garden and then venturing to the waterfront in Georgetown. The night began splendidly...and ended with my drunk-dialing my father.

I have no idea what made me so upset, but I was bawling and telling my poor father he needed to come to D.C., stat. (PS-it was only 11:30 p.m.) Thankfully, my roommate grabbed the phone from me and told my dad I was just upset about turning 26. Thanks, Rooms! I will be avoiding large quantities of wine for a while...

A week ago, I was offered a new job. I'll be working in the city doing work more in line with what I went to school for in the first place. I'm beyond excited and think it will be open a lot of doors for me career-wise. I'm also stoked to experience happy hours in D.C...haven't gotten to do that much while working in the 'burbs.

In August, I start grad school at George Mason. My classes are Tuesdays and Thursday from 7:20-10 p.m. I can't decide if it was a genius idea to go back to school or if I'm a glutton for punishment. Either way, it will be interesting to see if I can abandon some of my procrastinating tendencies. Pulling all-nighters and then working an eight-hour day would NOT be pretty.

It's crazy how quickly things can change. I've wanted them to for so long, it's hard to believe it's actually happening.

I think this calls for a summer-long celebration!

Routines and Miss Procras. do NOT get along

2010-05-14T14:23:00.006-04:00

Routines have never really been my thing. Must be why I detest working Monday – Friday 8:30 – 5. Can’t we get a little variety and spice things up a bit? I.e. allow me to sleep later than 7:50 – 8:05 am?

This whole I’m-so-not-a-routine-person has started to wreck havoc on a facet of my life I adore…blogging.

A few months ago, I would blog at work during the 6 hours I had NOTHING to do. It would keep me entertained for a good hour or so of my work day. But now, I’m working two jobs, and my 8:30-5 job is crazy. I am working non-stop for a full eight hours. I barely have time to pee! Not that I’m complaining, I much prefer this type of job to the one I had before. The days fly by and I actually kind of enjoy the work. And it’s not like I have internet access while working at the mall. Unfortunately, no iPhone/Blackberry/Smartphone for me yet.

So, this leaves me with zero time to blog.

I could say, okay, no matter what, I’m going to blog every Tuesday and Thursday at 10 p.m. when I get home from working at the mall or happy hour or whatever. But I know that won’t happen. I’ll grab a beer or glass of wine, plant myself in front of the television, and watch Friends, Snapped, Forensic Files or Golden Girls until I pass out. (I may or may not have memorized the line-up of awesome shows that are on between the hours of 10 pm and midnight.)

I’m not going to write lies (maybe that’s why I can’t find a job as a journalist), so I’m not going to promise that I’ll do better and post more often. Because I know the minute someone suggests happy hour or I find a Snapped marathon on t.v., blogging will be thrown out the window.

Sad, but true. Because I do love blogging. It’s introduced me to some pretty rad people (Hi, Pho and LiLu!)

But I can say I’ll blog when I can. And hopefully I can kick my ass in gear and make it happen more often.

In other news, this weekend, I will attending horse race with Lo and my Richmond nearest and dearest. Lo and I are bringing a bottle of firefly, a bottle of Absolut Apeach vodka to mix with lemonade (which will actually end up being peach vodka with an itty-bitty splash of lemonade) and a 12-pack. I’m driving my mom’s mini-van there and then my dad is chauffeuring us back. (Thanks, Daddy-O!) It’ll be just like high school….except it’s legal for us to drink.

Two words: SHIT SHOW

Guaranteed, I’ll have some fun pics/stories to share.

Happy Friday!!!

I quit my job! And other fun updates!

2010-04-13T12:37:00.007-04:00

Time for a mayjah update.

A) I quit my job. Can I get a hell yeah?!! No more threats, accusations and mean looks! (For now.)

B) I started two new ones.

I’m working for a temp agency during the week and at Jessica McClintock during the weekends. This is my fourth prom season working there. Why I continuously subject myself to the trivial demands of teenage girls who just want a dress they can stain a la Monica Lewinsky I have no idea. I’m a glutton for punishment.

Good news is, I will have fun stories to share on this blog.

Anyway, this is my plan for the next two months until I figure out where I’m going to grad school. It’s strange, because I visit Richmond and feel at home and love reconnecting with some of my best friends. But D.C. fits, too. And the thought of leaving The Hoff and my friends up here is terrifying.

But I know I’ll end up where I’m supposed to. I’m excited to start a new chapter of my life. I know that I’m capable of far more than I’ve accomplished in the four years since I graduated in college. And I’m determined to make it happenen.

I’ve even toyed with the idea of getting a PhD. Can you imagine? Dr. Procras. Ha! But I’ll cross that road once I obtain a master’s degree. It may be all the school I can handle.

C) With the pay cut I’ve taken, I’ve started frequenting more happy hours. It is so much cheaper to drink during the hours of 4 – 8 pm! The cell phone flask will start making more and more cameos when I decide to go out on the weekends. Momma’s on a budget!

D) I’ve tried to make The Hoff my sugar daddy. He is less than enthused. But, he treated me to a movie this weekend. Those who haven't, go see "Hot Tub Time Machine" immediately! Huh-larious! And bonus points if you've seen it and recognize the actor who plays the one-armed bellhop.

E) I have bangs now. And my hair is darker with highlights. I'll try to post a pic soon.

F) I’ve read two Nicholas Sparks books in three days. They’re my crack cocaine. I feel so lame reading them, and even more lame when I cry while reading them, but they are just SO DAMN GOOD.

G) A weekend wouldn’t be complete without a compelling Lifetime movie. Sunday, “Student Seduction” with Elizabeth Berkley was playing. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll probably see it 50 more times. The former Jesse Spano plays a high school chemistry teacher who offers to tutor a stuggling student. Dude turns out to be a little psycho and assaults her, but then accuses her of coming on to him.

Why are these movies soooo good?! And how do they cast such award-winning actresses?!

That’s all I’ve got for now. Hopefully I’ll have some good teenaged retail crisis stories to share soon.

The Hoff Does Not Heart Lifetime Movies

2010-03-24T11:19:00.003-04:00

We all know I have a slight obsession with Lifetime movies. The acting is stellar (hello...Tori Spelling stars in 59.8% of the movies), the content is compelling and there's also a moral to the story (i.e. don't sleep with your friend's husband; don't marry abusive psychopaths). Deep stuff.

My all time favorite lifetime movie was on Sunday night. Maybe some of you have heard of it? It's called "She's Too Young." Basically, it's about a group of high school students who all contract syphilis because they sleep around with each other. The focus is on a freshman girl, who gives the popular jock head just so he'll like her and ends up contracting syphilis. Obviously, it's a classic.

Fortunately for The Hoff, we were at his place so he could witness this award-winning drama. I've never seen someone cringe so much while still stay glued to the television screen. The movie reinforced his stance that he doesn't ever want to have a daughter and brought out some of the most hilarious commentary.

My favorite? "This movie is giving me a negative boner."

I think The Hoff and I need to make Lifetime movie date nights a regular occurrence.

What to do with my life?

2010-03-19T11:21:00.004-04:00

I used to spend half my day at work catching up on my blogs while writing my own posts. Since I'm not currently working, I don't exactly have the same routine.

I've been studying like crazy for the GREs, applying to grad schools and going on lots of job interviews. I also don't have a working computer in my apartment so I've been hitting up the Arlington library and stealing The Hoff's whenever I can.

My life just feels so chaotic lately because I have no clue what I'm doing with myself a few months from now. I could be in Richmond for grad school or still be in D.C. working. The only thing certain is that I will NOT be going back to my job.

I know I've somewhat alluded to it, but at the end of January I was called into my supervisor's office and told that I had been grouchy that week and that they had smelled alcohol twice.

I don't think I've ever been that shocked/mortified/appalled in my life. The first thing I did was vehemently deny being an alcoholic or ever drinking during work hours. I may enjoy my apple martinis, chianti and coors light, but I'm not stupid enough to jeopardize a job or my reputation. That's why happy hours were invented, after all - for the working girl to drink away her work problems cheaply AFTER 5 p.m.

Needless to say, I had a series of panic attacks and have been on leave since. The thought of going back is enough to make me feel like my chest is being crushed by a boa constrictor.

Anyway, the point of all this is to say I miss you, blogging world. In the words of Renee Zellweger, "You complete me." My professional life may be in shambles, but you have never failed me. And I promise to not be neglectful like I have been the past two months.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

2010-03-17T15:49:00.003-04:00

As of Monday, I've officially finished all my grad school applications and taken the GREs. I.E.-I'm due for a MAHJAH celebration tonight.

I don't care that I'm not Irish, I can drink green colored and Irish inspired libations with the best of them. I think I'm going to alternate between apple martinis and Killians all night. It should be fabulous!

Now that I'm done writing essays and studying my ass off, I'll have more time to blog and catch you all up on the craziness that has been my life this past month.

Cheers!

Things I Think I Can Do When Wasted

2010-03-05T08:31:00.002-05:00

I was a shitshow at blogger happy hour two weeks ago. A complete, and utter SHITSHOW.

After vomitando-ing up the delicious pizza, eight glasses of wine, one martini and one lemon drop shot I had consumed, one would think I'd be ready to call it a night. (Mind you, it wasn't even 11 p.m. at this point.)

Not so much.

For starters, while The Hoff attempted to hail us a cab, I proceeded to jump over a huge mound of snow. But instead of jumping feet first, I decided it would be much more effective if I soared, a la Superwoman style, over the block of slush/ice. I later asked why my hands were scraped and covered in dirt.

When The Hoff and I finally got into a cab, I started making small talk with the cab driver. "I promise not to puke in your car, Mr. Cab Driver, sir" were my first words to the poor soul chauffeuring us home.

Next, I asked him where he was from and begged him to teach me his language. He said Afghanistan. Side note: Is that language called Afghan? I have no idea. (I know, I know-typical ignorant American.)

Apparently, I butchered everything the guy tried to teach me, and I definitely don't remember any of it. But at least Mr. Cab Driver, sir was a good sport and didn't throw me out the first block of the ride.

One would think that at this point I would go upstairs and pass out. Logic isn't part of the wasted Miss Procras' repertoire.

The Hoff's roommates were up drinking, and I deemed it absolutely necessary to join in the fun. When The Hoff would hand me a glass of water, I'd immediately start scavenging around for a beer. Didn't matter if I picked up an empty bottle or someone else's beer, so long as I had one in my hand.

I then harassed his one roommate long enough that he let me play Call of Duty on Xbox live. Now, I've never played this game nor Xbox 360. The guy on the other end of the Xbox antennae was trying to help me, but I had my own agenda.

"Let's kill some bitches in this plane! I know they're in there!" (FYI-it was a helicopter not a plane, and it was completely empty.)

Somehow, I managed to stay up til 3 p.m. watching "Training Day" with one eye open. Anyone else have trouble watching t.v. while wasted? I'm incapable of not seeing double unless I keep one eye closed.

Note to self for future drunken occurences: I can't fly like superwoman, learn a foreign language, play Xbox games or watch television. Damn, what CAN you do when intoxicated???

The Only Thing Constant is Change

2010-02-19T11:25:00.004-05:00

I'm alive...sorta.

I'm spending my hiatus from work applying to grad schools, searching for jobs and deciding whether to stay in D.C. or move back to Richmond. Big changes ahead, folks.

Speaking of change, how do you like my new digs? During the copious amounts of free time I've been blessed with recently, I propositioned the totally awesome and fabulous LiLu to redesign my blog. She happily obliged and did a kick-ass job. Seriously, this is how I envisioned my blog to look when I started it but lacked the design savvy-ness or skills to create such a masterpiece.

Lilu, I raise my martini glass to you and will be buying you mucho beverages tonight at happy hour.

So, if you're wondering where I've been hiding...it's basically from reality. And reality (bitch that she is) keeps smacking me in the face and telling me I gots to figure out my shiz.

But, dear reality, you will be ever-so-forcefully kicked to the curb this evening so that I can consume deliciously cheap cocktails with Just Jack, LiLu and other awesome D.C. bloggers.

Happy Friday!

Lifetime Movies > Football

2010-02-04T00:29:00.003-05:00

I've been negligent to this poor blog...again.

I haven't felt like writing in a week and a half, which is terrifying, because writing is such a major part of who I am.

But mainly, so much has happened that I just don't know where to start.

So, I'll just summarize it into this:

Life slapped me across the face, shook me a few times and told me I really need to start being nicer to my psyche.

And I'm trying. Little by little. Day by day.

May sound cryptic, but it's all I'm able to divulge. (For now, at least.)

I started this blog to laugh with and at myself (and hopefully allow others to in the process). So enough with the blah and onto the happy...

One of my nearest and dearest, SayJo, was in town this past week. While I was out to dinner with her and a group of her friends from high school, we started talking about the most recent Lifetime movie debut.

In case any of you weren't aware, "Pregnancy Pact" premiered Saturday, January 23rd. Not as good as the one where the entire school contracts syphillis, but still a classic.

Anyone ever notice how a Lifetime movie premiere for women is the equivalent of a championship football game for men?

Seriously, half of us at dinner stayed home that Saturday to watch this movie, the others DVRed it and one girl convinced a bartender to turn it on while she was out with friends. Pure genius and awesomeness.

I don't know what it is about movies depicting teen pregnancies, STDs and battered women, but us females like to bond through trash television and copious amount of wine.

I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Saturday night.

In Remembrance

2010-01-21T10:41:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine from high school passed away last Tuesday. He was 27 years old.

Death never comes easy. You can't even predict your emotions when it happens. Expected or unexpected, it supresses your soul and sinks your heart, sweeping you away in a wave of grief.

I didn't keep in touch with this friend much after high school. I can probably count the number of times I saw him on one hand. But some of my favorite moments from high school are with him.

Listening to him beatbox, watching him breakdance in a mutual friend's basement or at the one under-18 club Richmond boasted, he always had a crowd around him. He touched so many lives with his contagious energy and spirit.

At his funeral this past Saturday, which had standing room only by the time I arrived, I looked around and saw at least 5 newborns being coddled by their parents. I was struck by the juxtaposition of the ending of one life and the beginning of numerous others, realizing just how delicate our physical life is.

But I believe the soul carries on after the physical life ends. I think those that knew my friend can still feel his presence. And thanks to the power of technology, those that didn't know my friend can still be touched by his incredible ability to entertain a crowd.

What it means to be a writer

2010-01-19T22:46:00.009-05:00

Today marks shitty day number 224 at work. I've been there a year and a half, not by choice, but by necessity. Mama's got to bills to pay and red wine to buy.

I spent the day hovered over my keyboard, watching tears hit the keys one by one, rejecting any ounce of advice The Hoff solicited via gchat, because sometimes it's easier to sulk in misery than find a solution to the problem.

Here's my dilemma:

I'm on job #3 since graduating college three and a half years ago.

Job #1: Proposal writer for government contractor. First and only job offered to me upon graduation because it's the only one I applied to. I figured I'd be cool, since 'writer' was in the title. Yeah, um...not so much. I sucked at this job and finally decided after crying in the bathroom for weeks on end that I needed a change. It was around that time job #2 landed in my lap.

Job #2: Editorial assistant for two log home magazines and a timber home magazine. Gotta admit, I knew zero about log or timber homes. But I was applying what I learned in college, utilizing AP style, and editing documents on InDesign. Life was good. Until the economy went down the shitter, starting with the home industry, and my position was eliminated 14 months after I started.

Job #3: Information specialist for a government agency dedicated to women's health. Believe in the cause, not so much the organization. I essentially answer phone calls and e-mails from people who have the average IQ of a rock. I think I've mentioned I'm also a breastfeeding peer counselor before on this blog. I'm not sure how much talk of sore, chapped, cracked nipples I can tolerate.

Life is full of promise and opportunity when you graduate college. I envisioned myself as Kate Hudson's character in "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" or Jennifer Garner in "13 Going On 30," fashion magazine writer/editor by day and gallivanting girl about town by night.

Then, reality knocked me on my ass and I realized that you have to be Anna Wintour's goddaughter or have some divine intervention to be selected as an employee at one of the coveted fashion magazines. That is, if any of them survive this recession.

And I go to job # 3 day after day, knowing I'm better than what I'm doing, all the while being micromanaged by my supervisors. And all I really want to do is write. It's the only thing I've ever been above average at and the one thing that has consistently brought pleasure to my life.

But what do you do when you can't get paid to do your passion?

I watched "Julie and Julia" tonight, a movie any blogger can relate to, and Julie posed the question, "what does it mean to be a writer?"

-Do you have to be published to be considered a writer?
I'd argue no for the sole fact that numerous famous authors were never published during their lifetime, but that probably never affected their classification of themselves as a writer.

So how do you become a writer?

To watch Julie go through her own enlightenment, unfolding her talent and achieving her dreams made me realize something: If both Julia Child and Julie can go from government secretaries to published authors, then dammit, there may be hope for me yet.

But for now, I may not have a book deal or a movie offer, but I have this blog and that's incentive enough for now. Thanks for sticking around for the ride.

Ode to Grits

2010-01-15T13:42:00.006-05:00

Last night, The Hoff and I had a nice romantic dinner in honor of D.C. Restaurant Week.

Our last Restaurant Week experience was God awful. I'm talking, I-would-have-rather-eaten- Ramen-noodles-and-a-Big-Mac awful. The only saving grace from that experience were our drinks, and only because we knew the bartender.

But, a friend recommended this particular restaurant so I figured it was safe to dine there for Restaurant Week. Plus, they don't discriminate and allow you to chose anything on their menu.

It was good. Not AMAZING, but good. 1,000,000 times better than the place that popped my D.C. Restaurant Week cherry.

The best part of the meal? The gouda grits served with my shrimp. By far some of the best grits I've ever tasted.

I'm pretty crazy about my grits. True story: I once, stammered into a Waffle House in Richmond (best place to go for late night drunk food) and belligerently yelled "I want my fucking grits" for a good 15 minutes until their wholesome, buttery goodness were placed in front of my face alongside some cheesy scrambled eggs, bacon and toast.

(...I think I just exposed my white trash side.)

At least I didn't belligerently demand my favorite Southern side dish in an upscale D.C. restaurant...YET.

Last night, as I was devouring my gouda grits and shrimp, The Hoff tried and bite and decided that he liked my grits just as much as me. I told him that if he's going to eat the epitome of Southern food, he has to say 'y'all' everytime he takes a bite.

Didn't go over so well.

Bahstan Boy that he is, I don't even think he brain can wrap around the essence and beauty of 'y'all.'

This means, darling Hoff, no mo' grits for you!

Random facts with some TMI thrown in

2010-01-14T16:42:00.003-05:00

I haven't been able to sleep very well the past few nights. It could be because of gotten 10 hours of sleep during the day, but I think the more likely culprit is the songs that keep popping into my head as I'm drying to drift off into slumbering bliss. Please tell me I'm not the only person with this problem!

Last night, this little gem was on repeat for a good 40 minutes. Damn you, American Idol! Damn you!

Other nights, it's been such classics as Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA" or Ke$ha's "Tick Tock." I have great taste in music if I haven't mentioned that before.

This morning I woke up, uber tired from only seven hours of sleep instead of my required eight (thank you very much, General Platt), and bolted for the shower.

Another fascinating fact about me: I have to bathe in boiling hot water. (Some courtesy TMI: The Hoff and I have a hard time showering together because of our difference in water temperatures.)

Anywhosit, 2010 has decided to bless me with frigid water temperatures between the hours of 6:45 a.m. and 9:30 a.m. aka prime shower time for us working folk. Which means, I have to start taking showers at night. Which means I have to start blow drying and straightening my hair at night (I just got swoopy side bangs...they aren't pretty when I sleep on them wet.) Which means I can't get wasted at happy hours anymore because it totally sucks doing those things drunk.

OR I could just say eff it and not shower before work.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Offers of showers with 110 degree Fahrenheit water temperatures?

Well hello there, 2010

2010-01-13T14:43:00.003-05:00

I haven't started 2010 off very well. Thirteen days into 2010 and I'm just now writing my first post.

::Hiding face in shame::

For some reason, the start of the new year for means its sinus infection/cold time for Miss Procras. Today marks day three in bed, and I've finally made it out of bed and to the doctors office.

Staying home sick does have some perks. I've gotten to watch my favorite daytime talk shows: Ellen, Oprah and Maury; catch a Law and Order: SUV marathon and sleep for hours on end (I've seriously been sleeping 16 hours a day).

Now that I'm armed with a Z pack, I should be feeling 70% tomorrow and 100% Friday---just in time for the weekend. As much as I've enjoyed lounging around the apartment for three days straight, I'm starting to feel like a stay at home mom - minus the tantrum throwing toddlers.

Now, back to my eight-hour nap....

Holiday date nights with Just Jack

2009-12-30T13:29:00.005-05:00

It's been a while since I wrote about Just Jack. Mainly because I don't see his pretty face nearly enough. So, I was beyond excited for our holiday date night last night.

Date nights with Just Jack=guaranteed hilarity.

Witness for yourself:

My little bro got me a pair of Ugg boots for Christmas. Just Jack DESPISES Ugg boots. (See this post for further clarification.) So of course I wore them just for him on our date night. Only the best for my gay-bee.

He couldn't resist ragging on me and I'm sure he'll never relent whenever I wear them in his presence. "I hope your warm and comfortable, Miss Procras., because you look ridiculous," were just some of the comments I endured. (His wifey, Straight Lady, owns Crocs so now he has two women in his life to torment. Bet he never thought that would happen.)

Anywho, we decided to order pizza from The Italian Store for dinner.

***D.C. residents, if you have not experienced the deliciousness that is The Italian Store, you are missing out on some of the best pizza ever created. And no, I'm not exaggerating. ***

Direct quote from Just Jack after he opened the box and ogled its contents. "I just had a mini-O from the site of that pizza."

Leaving the parking lot, we almost were run over by Santa, who had somehow traded in his sleigh for a red Ford Escape.

JJ: "Santa, go back to the North Pole and make me a toy for fuck's sake."

Our date night commenced with pizza, the cheapest bottle of wine we could find in the store (screwtop, of course), poured into pink plastic cups almost as flaming as JJ, a few reruns of Grey's, a viewing of Love Actually and some hot chocolate mixed with Kahlua, creme de menthe and vodka.

It was glorious.

And I must say, nights like this make my life complete.

Love you, mean it, JJ!

Wishing you all a Happy New Year! See you bias in 2010!!

Ellie the Echo Strikes Again

2009-12-29T09:43:00.008-05:00

Remember this post from a couple weeks ago? Such a thoughtful early Christmas gift from my beloved car.

Those of you who know me are aware Miss Procras. and automobiles don't mix so well. In my nine years of wrecking havoc on the roads, I've flipped my car on a windy mountain, almost crashed head first into a school bus and caused countless dents in parking garages.

Basically, you sign over your life by getting into a car with me behind the wheel.

Guess Ellie decided a flat tire and being locked out wasn't enough punishment for one holiday season. On Sunday, after lunch with the parentals and some family friends, I headed to meet some friends for beer and football. I was very low on gas, but I figured I'd fill up after lunch. BAD IDEA.

As soon I pushed on the gas pedal, my car started puttering. I couldn't go faster than 25 mph. I needed a gas station ASAP.

Unsure where the closest station was, I headed toward what I thought was the most logical direction. I knew one couldn't be too far down the road. Au contraire.

Ellie crapped out before I could catch even the slightest glimpse of a gas station in the horizon.

Thankfully, my dad was less than two minutes away and came to my rescue.

We reached gas station #1. No gas cans. Headed to gas station #2. Closed. Reached gas station #3. Success!

Thirty minutes later, we had a gas can and fuel to get some sustenance into my bitch of a car so she could make it a mile down the road.

Hopefully, she's done with her shenanigans. I don't know if I can handle any more Christmas surprises from Ellie the Echo.

Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, free of car distress!

You're a Rotten, Mrs. Grinch

2009-12-22T10:31:00.006-05:00

One of my superiors is quite the ray of sunshine.

You'd think during such a festive season, even the grumpiest souls could find joy somewhere in the depths of their cold hearts.

Not this woman.

Homegirl walks through the office looking like a 90-year-old hunchback with her arms folded over her chest and the worst posture I've ever witnessed. (Probably due to the stick up her ass.)

She could give Ben Stein a run for his money with her monotone voice and lack of facial expressions. She zaps any and all energy from the office because she has none.

This morning, I held the door to our suite open for her, and she didn't even acknowledge the gesture. No 'thank you,' no 'good morning.' Nothing.

I've met some of the most socially awkward people, and even they know how to say 'please' and 'thank you.' It's not a hard concept.

I avoid her like the plague. If I have to drop of something in her office, I wait until she leaves and then slide it under her door. And if, God forbid, I go to the kitchen to warm up my lunch and she's already there, I go back to my desk and wait five minutes until she'd done.

I just find it easier to interact with her as little as possible.

Wonder if there's any hope that her heart could grow three sizes and she would carve the roast beast? Now THAT would be a true Christmas miracle.

Where's Cindy Lou Who when you need her?

To: Miss Procras. From: Ellie the Echo

2009-12-18T08:57:00.009-05:00

Evidently, my car thought I was on the naughty list this year. I've kinda put her through the ringer in the two years I've owned her. Scraping her side against a pole in a parking garage , losing a hubcap by running up onto a curb, leaving her parked in D.C. to get keyed by some hoodlums....you get the idea. Ellie the Echo is not happy with me.

But, Karma's a bitch. And Ellie decided to turn the tables on me last night.

I was at Pentagon City mall for a haircut and some last-minute shopping. I returned to my car and began driving away, when I heard the tell-tale thumping sound of a flat tire. I pulled back into a parking spot and went to assess the damage.

My front passenger side tire was ridiculously flat. I'm talking, rim-touching-the-pavement flat. After talking to The Hoff, I decided to drive to the nearest gas station.

Now, if you're from the D.C. area, you know that the Pentagon City mall area is basically all shops and apartments. NO gas stations. Why they don't have any fuel near where thousands of people shop and reside is beyond me.

I was sobbing, and praying, and cursing Ellie for being a piece of shit. She couldn't care less, and continued to thump and shake more violently with each block I drove.

After two miles, I finally caught glimpse of a gas station. The blue, red and white illuminated Exxon sign never looked so good. Before I was able to pull into the station, a Hispanic gentleman pointed at my tire.

No shit, Sherlock. I feel like I'm caught in a size-6-on the Richter scale earthquake, but I thought that was normal for a car. Thanks for the heads up.

I frantically pulled up to the air machine, grabbed my wallet and exited my car. When I reached the tire this is what I saw.

Yeah, I don't think putting air into that would help.

So, I went back to the driver's side door to retrieve my phone. Door was locked. I ran around to the passenger side. Also locked. Checked my coat pockets for my keys. Only found lint and an old movie ticket stub. Glanced at the ignition and saw keys still there, swaying gleefully from side to side. (I swear they were taunting me.)

I'm sure Ellie was on cloud nine by this point.

The gas station attendant was nice enough to let me use her phone to call The Hoff and USAA's roadside assistance.

The Hoff, knight in shining armor that he is, arrived in 15 minutes and kept me from getting frostbite. Within 45 minutes, the roadside assistance crew arrived, unlocked my car and replaced the shredded heap of rubber with my spare tire.

Not only do I drive a clown car, but now I'm driving with a donut. My commute on 66 and 495 was quite interesting, since I can't drive faster than 45 mph. I felt sorry for the poor souls behind me.

Moral of the story: don't ever drive on a flat. And maybe I really need to consider moving where a car isn't a necessity.

Christmas Traditions

2009-12-16T16:00:00.015-05:00

For me, most of my Christmas traditions revolve around movies. There are just so many good ones! I have to be infront of a film infused with cheer, magic and St. Nick while writing Christmas cards, baking cookies, decorating the tree, etc. Hell, if I could walk around with "Elf" playing as I did my shopping I totally would.

On my flight to San Diego last week, the Southwest magazine in the back seat pocket had a quiz to determine which holiday movie you needed to watch this season. I changed my answers each time so I could land on them all. Yep, I'm that much of a dork.

I present you, my must-see holiday films:

Childhood favorite; been watching this one since I was 4. It's on VHS and still has commercials on it from 1988. Remember creepy Teddy Ruxpin? He's on there, still taunting me and giving me nightmares.

Another childhood favorite on the same tape as "Muppet Family Christmas."

I saw this for the first time in my sixth grade chorus class. I was instantly hooked. Who can resist Bing Crosby's"White Christmas?"

My grandfather loved this movie. He had to watch it whenever he came to visit. Not that I blame him-it's hilarious. Now, everytime I watch it I think of him.

Pure comedic genius. The perfect remedy for holiday stress.

Why people felt it necessary to recreate this Christmas classic and put Jim Carrey in gallons of green paint and fur is beyond me.

That 24-hour marathon on TBS every Christmas Eve through Christmas Day? On the ENTIRE time at my parent's house. I always get kind of depressed when the marathon is over-it's like it signals the end of Christmas.

Will Ferrel in an elf suit, eating syrup all over spaghetti, wrecking holiday havoc in NYC. Lo and I quote this movie throughout the entire month of December. Love this movie almost as much as I love her. ALMOST.

You just feel good about life when you watch this movie. It makes the world feel like a much

What are your top Christmas flicks?

Queer Eye for the Straight Guy Chrstimas Edition

2009-12-15T12:02:00.012-05:00

The Hoff and his roommates crack me up. They're the epitome of guy's guys. Football watching, farting, burping, beer-guzzling twenty-four year olds. And I heart them.

They've become some of my closest friends in D.C. and I couldn't ask for a better group of guys to party with and test my lackluster cooking skills on.

And I have to admit, they surprise the hell out of me. You'd think a house occupied by four 24-year-old guys would be equivalent to a frat house. But it's always decently clean.

In fact, they've got me beat on the Christmas decor front.

They purchased a well-shaped, full Frasier Fur Christmas tree (I feel like I'm describing a glass of wine or attractive person. Promise I don't have a tree fetish-ha!) Lights are strung, ornaments have been borrowed from yours truly, and the real shocker: the tree is color coded!

Only red and silver ornaments are hanging from the tree, with a few gold ones mixed in. It's like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy came through for the holidays.

See for yourselves. (Sorry the quality isn't so great, but you get the idea.)

And don't worry, that tree will have tons have presents surrounding it soon enough. They're all buying gifts for each other. Bromance at it's finest.

Senior Date Night

2009-12-11T10:48:00.005-05:00

I just got back from San Diego last night. I was scheduled to attend a work conference Mon-Thurs, and The Hoff suggested we have a mini-vacaction and leave on Saturday since we've both never been to SD before.

I need to load more pics to give a proper recap, but let me leave you with this teaser for the weekend.

The Hoff and I went to dinner in La Jolla one night, and quickly realized we must have interrupted senior night. I'm not kidding, we were the youngest patrons there by at least 40 years.

We asked our watier, who was, surprisingly, our age, the target market of this particular establishment. He claimed it was 18-34. After looking around the restaurant, The Hoff said, "Really?"

Then he proceeded to tell us that it's a hip local spot. Ha! Maybe if by "hip" he means those who've had hip replacements.

I have to admit, I hope I turn out like the old timers sitting beside us when I'm 75. They downed at least 2 bottles of wine during dinner. Here's to retirement!

I Feel Like Ranting Today...Facebook, You're on the Chopping Block

2009-12-02T10:10:00.005-05:00

I realize I did a post on my love/hate relationship with Facebook a few weeks ago. I guess I have a lot of pent-up hostility towards that social networking site...probably because I spend 75% of my workday stalking-err, I mean browsing-people's profiles, status updates, pictures, etc.

Though I'm signed on Monday through Friday, 9-5, I don't really do much to my own fb account. There's the once-a-week status update (I normally don't have anything very exciting to say), the happy birthday/i heart you shout outs, the rare photo change and the even more rare photo postings. (My friends really hate this one...they know any pictures I take will NEVER get posted on fb.)

Over the years, I've noticed different types of fb users start to surface. I've developed my own classification for those users that really grate my nerves.

1) The "I-only-communicate-via-Facebook" user
You know, the people who, no matter what form of communication you use to contact them (phone call, text, e-mail, letter), will ONLY reply via a facebook wall post or message.

I can understand not wanting to answer a phone call. You're on the phone all day at work, so when 5 o'clock rolls around, the phone is put on silent mode so you can spend the evening interruption-free with a bottle of merlot and Grey's reruns on Lifetime. I get it.

BUT, a text? An e-mail? Why is it so hard to respond to those? You don't even have to TALK to the person!

When facebook was invented, the other forms of communication did not suddenly become obsolete.

You think if these peeps were in a burning building they'd send a wall post or message to the Fire Dept? Hell-to-the-no! They'd be picking up a phone. The same logic can be applied to your nearest and dearest. Just sayin'

2) The "I'm-an-attention-hog" Facebook user
No, I'm not going to join your pity party of how awful your day was and how you just want to be home cuddled in bed. Every other working American feels the same way. DEAL WITH IT.

3) The "vomit-inducing" Facebook user
Oh, I just love hearing how wonderful your significant other is and how much you love them. I don't care that he/she bought you a dozen roses, gives good back rubs and sweeps you off your feet every day. Spare us all, please.

4) The "I'm-pregnant-and-it's so-awful-and-wonderful-the-same-time" Facebook user
We get it. Pregnancy is such a magical experience---feeling the baby move for the first time, baby showers... Oh wait, it actually kinda sucks. Between the back pain and the swollen feet, you just want to pop the kid out now. Um...you're the one who got knocked up. Where's that mother's glow now??

5) The invisible Facebook user
The ones who create a fb account, but never bother to upload a picture or anything else. What good are they?

Types 1-4 are infinitely more better than these fuckers. At least they give me a way to occupy my time.

I'm equally annoyed when I'm in the same network as someone but not friends with them and can't see their profile. So rude. I need to stalk you, and you're making it REALLY difficult.

If you're any of the above, don't worry, I still love you. Your facebook account just gives me something to bitch/laugh about. And don't we all need that once in a while?

Why this Thanksgiving will be so much better than previous ones

2009-11-25T10:25:00.002-05:00

This time last year, I was gearing up to work allllll Thanksgiving weekend at the mall. Working retail on black Friday and the proceeding Saturday and Sunday is basically hell on earth served with a side of death.

Thank the sweet baby Jesus I'm done with that job and not required to arrive at 11:45 p.m. on Thanksgiving and open the store at midnight for the bargain-loving freaks who start their Christmas shopping during the wee hours of Friday morning. No sir-ee Bob! Not me. Not this year.

Instead, I'll be doing the following:

-Eating (obvi)
-Drinking (double obvi)
-Watching football
-Reading
-Catching up on sleep
-Shopping and pitying the poor souls who are stuck working retail this year

I'm equally thankful that I do not have to drive home this year. My first year living in D.C., I made the mistake of trying to drive home at 4 p.m. on Thanksgiving Eve. A 2-hour drive turned into a 5-hour, bumper-to-bumper traffic, nightmare. I quickly learned from my negligence. This year, good ol' reliable Amtrak will be chauffeuring me to Richmond. Road rage, traffic jams and a killer migraine will be replaced with a book, cocktail and relaxation.

Just a few of the things I'm thankful for this year...

Hope y'all have a fabulous Thanksgiving holiday!

Frugal Fashion Finds

2009-11-20T09:55:00.030-05:00

I have a slight love affair with scarves. The perfect complement to any outfit, they add color and flair to an otherwise boring outfit. And the fact that they are no longer confined to the winter months makes them even more fabulous in my book

As much as I love this must-have accessory, I refuse to spend more than $30 on one. Call me cheap, but I just can't stomach emptying my wallet for 2+ yards of fringed fabric.

Here are some of my favorites-all under $30, of course.

Keep these versatile staples on hand year after year. They pair well with a multitude of outfits and can double as a wrap.

Lori's Gathered Cowl-Taupe $22 (also available in grey)

Gena Accessories Crinkle Blue Scarf $18

Merona Solid Wrap $12.99 (Available in ivory, angus pink, black, teal, grey, tan, green, red)

Slip on one of these knock-outs and instantly spice-up any plain-white-tee-and-jeans combo.

TOPSHOP Pasiley Printed Scarf $24

Old Navy Fringed Jacquard Scarf $19.50 (Shown in pink also available in green)

Roxy Lightweight Printed Scarf $24 (Shown in black escapade, also available in sea green)

dELiA*s Tiana Scarf $14.50

G by GUESS Charmed Scarf $14.50

For nights on the town when some extra oomph is an absolute-must, try these glamorous accent pieces.

White House Black Market Velvet Textured Wrap $19.99

Ann Taylor Loft Sequin Scarf $29.50

Gena Accesories Sequin Wrap $22

And of course I can't forget the scarf's main purpose for being. With winter approaching, I've already got my eye on some comfy numbers that will keep my Southern ass from freezing.

Charlotte Russe Pom Pom Pocket Knit Scarf $9.99

TOPSHOP Superfluffy Scarf $22 (shown in grey, also availble in nude)

Merona Cashmere Scarf $24.99(shown in pink, also available in white, black, charcoal, grey)

Turning the negative into positive

2009-11-18T10:59:00.008-05:00

Yesterday, I was gathering some items off the copier at work, when a co-worker turned around and asked if I had gained weight. I'll refer to her as NN (for Negative Nancy) because she's seriously the most glass-half-empty-person I've ever met.

I was embarrassed, shocked, appalled, and could only muster "uhhh...I don't know" as a response. She then told me it looks good.

Backhanded comment much?

Truth be told, I've never been one to obsess over my weight-I've pretty much always eaten what I want and not worried about it.

Still, I feel like I have put on a few pounds lately. My pants are fitting more snugly-so snug that I end up unbuttoning them halfway through the workday to get comfortable. And my tight-fitting tops have relegated to the back of my closet to avoid accentuating my muffin top.

I've tried to brush the negative thoughts and self-criticisms aside. You're your own worst critic, after all. But, to have someone else confirm the insecurities I have about my body and weight makes me feel like maybe it's not all in my head.

So, I've been torturing myself with the what-ifs as to why my body is suddenly changing.

-I just turned 25, and have always heard that your body starts acting differently when you hit that milestone. Maybe my metabolism has slowed down.

-I've been watching wayyyyyy too many episodes of "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant." So even though I'm on the pill and even though I've been getting my period every month, part of my still agonizes that I could be like the freaks of nature on that show and randomly pop out a kid at a campsite or fast food restaurant. (Yes, that actually happened on the show.)

But the comment gave me motivation to do something about it. I went to the exercise room in my apartment complex for the first time since I moved, did some cardio and sit-ups, and made myself tilapia, rice and peas for dinner. (I also indulged in a glass of red wine and a piece of Ghiradelli dark chocolate, but both of those are supposed to be good for you.)

When I got to work this morning, I told another co-worker what NN said. She told me that NN said the same thing to another girl in my office - right before her wedding! And this other girl she "critiqued" is probably the most physically fit person in our office.

What woman comments on another woman's weight? AND what woman has the audacity to say something so hurtful before one of the most important days in a woman's life, when that woman has been working so hard to look perfect!

A very sad, insecure, lonely woman that's who.

I kind of want to bitch her out. But mostly, I feel sorry for her. So maybe I'll just thank her for giving me incentive and motivation to take better care of my body.

I forgot how good it feels to work out, so hopefully I can be disciplined and keep up a regular exercise routine. Take that, NN!

My Friends Love Me

2009-11-16T13:33:00.004-05:00

I'm lucky I have super understanding friends who love me regardless of my habitual tendency to arrive at least 15 minutes late to EVERYTHING.

Since my nearest and dearest have learned to accept this trait about me, this also means they have an endless amount of ammunition.

Some recent zings:

I was getting ready to go out with Just Jack one Saturday night. One hour before he was supposed to come over, I still needed to clean, shower and eat dinner (at least 2 hours worth of things to accomplish). After cleaning, finding a perfect outfit for the night and grabbing some Natty Lite with JJ for pregaming, I let him know how close I was to getting ready. We were due to leave, like 10 minutes ago.

Me: So, don't hate me, but I still need to shower.

Just Jack: WHAT?! Get your ass in the shower, now. I'm giving you 20 minutes.

At my friends wedding last weekend, I was talking to my group of high school friends about when I'd be home for Thanksgiving.

Me: I'm taking the train, and I'll get into Richmond at 9 p.m. the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.

Friend: So that means we can expect you out at midnight?

Same location, rehashing the ceremony/reception the night before.

Friend: Miss Procras., I was saving a seat at the ceremony for you and The Hoff, and I kept looking around for you, thinking "Leave it to Miss Procras. to be late somewhere she's already at."

Recent gchat convo

Friend: tell me something that will get me motivated to get up and go run

Me: ha! i don't think i can help you with that one. you know miss procras.=epitome of laziness

Friend: touche. but i would say miss procras.= epitome of lateness, not laziness

Me: yes, that would be more accurate

If I haven't said it to you lately, thank you for putting up with me.

Random Friday Fun

2009-11-13T11:29:00.003-05:00

The totally awesome and rad SG tagged me to fill out this questionnaire. I'm honored - it's my first tag!

What is the thing that makes you happy?
Can't name just one. So here's a bunch: Happy hours with friends, a frosty Coors Light, Nordstrom half-yearly sales, my Pomeranian, a Steelers or JMU football victory, sleeping in, Lifetime movie marathons and whenever I hear a Britney Spears song. I'm easily pleased.

Coffee or tea?
I'm a southern girl - so I have to go with tea. Iced-cold, homemade, sweet tea. And I heart chai tea lattes.

What's for dinner?
Depends on if I've done grocery shopping that week. But I'm trying to be good and not go out as much, so probably chicken or pasta in some form.

What was the last thing you bought?
A birthday card for a friend.

What are you listening to right now?
My car has no CD player, and I have yet to download songs onto the iPod I received four Christmases ago. So whatever I can find on the radio - which tends to be Lady Gaga or the Blackeyed Peas these days. Damn you, mainstream radio and your 10 songs on repeat.

What is your favourite piece of clothing in your wardrobe?
Banana Republic t-shirts (long or short-sleeved). They are so soft and comfortable!

What is your favourite ice cream flavor?
Mint chocolate chip. I'm slightly obsessed.

What do you think of the person(s) who tagged you?
I heart SG! One of the first bloggers I started reading and who started commented on my blog. Seems like a badass chica I'd love to grab cocktails with.

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
Disney World! Kidding. I think I'd go with Greece. I've always wanted to go there.

Which language do you want to learn?
Dutch and German. My grandmother is Dutch and my grandfather is German. I think it'd be cool to be able to speak the languages of the countries that make up my ancestry.

What is your favourite color?
Purple. Luckily, that was one of my college's colors. I own wayyyy more purple t-shirts than one person ever should.

If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
Wine, shoes and a pedicure. Pure bliss.

What is your favorite animal?
Cheetahs. They're so cute and cuddly...and also pretty ferocious.

Describe your personal style.
Classic. With some touches of vintage and trendy thrown into the mix.

What are you going to do after this?
Eat lunch, surf the web and pray that the next few hours of work fly by.

What are your favorite movies?
Clueless, Red Dragon, The Pelican Brief, A Time to Kill, Shawshank Redemption, Enchanted, Pretty Woman, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going on 30, Steel Magnolias, Gone with the Wind.

What inspires you?
Authors of all kinds - song writers, bloggers, poets, novelists; my friends; my grandmother.

What is your favorite fruit?
Cantaloupe with a little bit of salt. I take all nutritional value out of fruit and vegetables by adding salt, sugar, butter, cream - you name it.

Do you collect something?
Shoes, handbags and books. I write notes in the margins of every book I read, so I find it impossible to part with any of them.

How many hours do you sleep a day?
You don't want to be around me if I've gotten less than 8. On Veteran's Day, I slept 12 hours. It was glorious.

How many times do you press the snooze button before you get up?
If the alarm means I have to get up for work, then at least five. For anything else, once or zero.

What is your favorite smell?
The Hoff's cologne, baked bread, cinnamon, my grandparent's house (it doesn't smell musty and old, I promise).

What is your biggest regret?
Not studying abroad in college, or backpacking through Europe right after graduation.

What are you most proud of?
Where I'm at right now in my life. Six months ago, I never thought it was possible to be where I am today.

Cats or dogs?
This is a hard one for me. I grew up with cats, and then we got a dog when I was 15. I love them both, but I think I'd have to go with dogs.

What is your biggest fashion mistake?
Oh dear god. In elementary school, I did some terrible things to my hair. Think body perms and super-short hair cuts. Not cute. In middle school, I'd have to say my biggest fashion faux pas were those big chunky jelly shoes. Ever notice how those things seem to resurface in some form year after year? WHY??!! I didn't fare much better in high school with my body glitter and leopard print and black pleather pants. SEXY.

What is your guilty TV pleasure?
Lifetime movies, Snapped, Bridezilla

What did you want to be when you grew up?
First it was a doctor, then an animal biologist. When I realized I suck at math and science, those dreams crashed and burned.

If you could meet one person, dead or alive, who would it be?
Emily Giffin

What is your biggest dream?
To love and be loved.

What was your favorite book when you were a child?
The Giving Tree, Polar Express, Dr. Seuss books

If today was your last day on earth, what would you be doing?
I'd be freaking out and having a major panic attack. Then, I'd summon Bruce Willis to come save the world like he did in Armageddon. I honestly hate thinking about stuff like this, which is why I refuse to see anymore end-of-the-world movies. 2012? Yeah, I'll pass. If I had to chose, I'd honestly just want to be eating my favorite foods, surrounded by my favorite people. And then lie in the arms of my soulmate. (Yeah, I'm cheesy, I know.)

If you could have any super power, what would it be?
I've always wanted to be like Samantha in "Bewitched." Does that count as one super power? I think it should. So I'll stick with that.

If you joined the circus, what act would you perform?
Animal trainer. Except I'd probably train hamsters instead of tigers to be on the safe side.

Why did you start your blog?
To do some form of creative writing on a regular basis, laugh at myself and stay connected with friends I can't see on a regular basis (Hi Lo, SayJo and 804s!)

My contribution: What thing in your room best describes you?

And I feel like a dork, but I don't know many bloggers well enough to tag them, so I'm going to tag Just Jack.

Oh, and I will be a post-writing machine this weekend so I can update you on a recent occurences. Expect mucho posts next week! :)

Frugal Fashion Finds

2009-11-06T10:02:00.004-05:00

It's been a few weeks since I've done one of these, so I figured it was time for another. That, and I'm really excited about the AMAZING deal I got this past week weekend on a dress for my friends wedding.

I wanted a deep purple dress. I found one at Macy's that I LOVED, but was reluctant to buy because of the price tag. (It was orginally $124, marked down to $74, but my budget was $50.) I put the dress on hold, and spent the next two hours scouring the rack of my go-to stores: Ann Taylor, Banana Republic, Nordstrom, Express, The Limited, Forever 21.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Three hours at the mall and I had nothing to show for it. Most depressing feeling EVER. I went back to Macy's and tried on the dress again. I figured since it fit perfectly and was the exact color I wanted, it was worth splurging.

Upon examinig the dress for imperfections (as every fashionista should), I noticed two small, barely-noticeable snags. Bingo! My golden ticket to a 10% discount. (That's typically the most stores will offer on damaged merchandise.)

I did a little happy dance, and made my way to the cash register. I was right, the most they would offer me is 10% off and it would be a final sale. Done and done. It's not like I want to return the dress, anyway.

The cashier rang up the dress, and when I looked down at the subtotal, it said $39.00.

My mouth dropped. The Hoff elbowed me to hide my expression so the cashier wouldn't think it was a mistake.

I don't think I've ever been so estatic about a purchase. I get the dress I loved AND stayed $10 under my budget!

I couldn't find the dress online in the color I bought, but here is is in black.

Ralph Lauren Jersey Halter Dress

Sick Day Revelation

2009-10-30T09:17:00.004-04:00

Recap coming as soon as I get my lazy ass around to loading pictures onto my computer. And by my computer I mean The Hoff's. (Mine doesn't have internet access at the moment.)

So, instead, I'm going to write about something that doesn't require the use of yet-to-be-uploaded photos.

In between naps, I spent my sick days watching such greats as "Sex and the City," "27 Dresses," and "Marley and Me." Fortunately for me, Cinemax and HBO had them on repeat.

During the scene in "27 Dresses" when Sexy McSexface (aka James Marsden...loved him since "Second Noah" - you're my instant soul mate if you remember that show) is trying to get Katherine Heigl to say "no" to people, I realized I'm a lot like her character.

Let's take a moment to embrace the hotness that is James Marsden....

::swoon::

::faint::

Okay, back to my point.....

I definitely lack the assertiveness gene.

This may be why I've had two, yes TWO co-workers ask to borrow money from me. And not $.65 for a coke or $3.99 for a happy meal. I'm talking $50-100.

So, much like Katherine Heigl's character, I meekly responded that I'm sorry, but I can't loan them money. Luckily, these people asked me via text or im and not face-to-face.

What I really wanted to ask them way if they'd lost their G.D. mind and to work the oh-so-lucrative street corner if they're so hard up for cash. Of course, I'd have to say this in a diplomatic, don't-report-me-to-HR, I'd-really-like-to-keep-my-job sort-of way.

But seriously, to be asked to borrow that amount of money from co-workers? I must be doing something wrong.

And then I realized, I did the same thing in relationships. I never spoke my mind or made demands.

I wanted to be the cool, laid-back girlfriend. So if something bothered me, I just kept my mouth shut.

Until recently.

After my epiphany a few months ago, I've learned its okay to say what I want.

To name a few: I need date nights once a week, help with the dishes after I cook (and to have dinner cooked for me) and a kiss on my forehead before I go to sleep.

And you know what? The Hoff's still here.

So my expectations must not be that unreasonable.

If I can do this in one of the most important relationships in my life, I can certainly apply it toward others.

My new mantra:

No more worrying about what people think.

Time to be me, with no apologies or regrets.

Easier said than done, but I'll get there.

Nobody Likes a Mr. (or Miss) Sniffles

2009-10-21T12:03:00.002-04:00

I want to give y'all a recap of the past 10 days. I really, really want to.

But I can't breathe, my head feels like it's about to explode and I'm hacking up a lung.

Basically, I'm dying.

And I just don't have it in me to type a proper recap post.

Once I'm feeling halfway human again (hopefully tomorrow), I'll update you on my recent shananigans.

Until then, I'll be snuggled under 5 blankets with a cup of green tea and a bowl of chicken pho.

You can take the girl out of the honky tonk, but you can't take the honky tonk out of the girl

2009-10-08T11:09:00.008-04:00

So, we all know I am incapable of getting places on time and wait until the last minute to do anything.

But, last week, I attended a....

wait for it...

wait for it...

...time management seminar.

I'm still reeling at the irony of a blogger by the name of Miss Procras. listening to a lecture negating the very essence that is her being.

Was I late to this 6-hour class about managing priorities and juggling multiple projects?

Of course - by my standard 15 minutes. (I had a little mishap with a school bus - more on that later.)

Did I learn anything?

Surprisingly, yes. Wish I had taken this class in college to learn some of the prioritzation tactics the instructor taught us.

Listen to these fun facts spouted off during the seminar:

-The average American reads 220-240 words/minute; comprehends 30% of what they read and memorizes 40%.
-All living U.S. Presidents have taking a speed reading course with the exception of one. I think you call all guess who that is.
-Living U.S. President with the fastest reading speed? The cigar-shoving, dress-staining, sax playing Cassanova - he can read something crazy like 1550 words/minute.

I now have a new goal in life: to beat ol' Willy's reading speed. It can be my super power.

But my favorite part of the class was the quote to combat procrastination:

"If you wake up in the morning and the first thing you do is eat a live frog, it's probably going to be the worst thing you do all day, so the rest of the day is probably going to get better." -Mark Twain

I get your point, Marky Mark, but I don't tend to eat live frogs very often. The following streams of logic are much more my speed, anyway.

"The two rules of procrastination: 1) Do it today. 2) Tomorrow will be today tomorrow. "- Unknown

"I was late to work, so I'm leaving early. I don't want to be late twice in the same day. "- Unknown. Now THAT is what I call being time efficient.

(I like how both those authors chose to remain anonymous. Guess they actually care about their reputations, unlike me.)

You're so right, Brooks & Dunn, you CAN'T take the honky tonk out of the girl. But in my case honky tonk = lackadaisicalness.

Side note: Tomorrow, I'm off to the Bahamas for a few days with The Hoff, then to a work conference in Boston, so I won't be posting much the next week. I'll be on 5 flights in 9 days...hopefully, I can utilize the ounce of self-disclipline I have to get to the airport on time.

Have a fabulous weekend, loves!

Boy Logic Makes Zero Sense

2009-10-02T10:21:00.006-04:00

Before I go off on my tangent, I have to apologize for my negligence in posting. This week has been pretty intense - I'll explain later. And I know I normally post my frugal fashion finds on Friday (holy alliteration, batman!), but I just don't have it in me today.

So, I'll just vent to my fantabulous blog readers about The Hoff and his way of thinking.

You see, The Hoff needs a new car. He is currently driving a 1998 Toyota Camry, lovingly referred to as Tonya, the green monster. It's got quite a few dings (pictures to come soon) and malfunctions-i.e. the security system is shot to hell and randomly goes off while he's driving. I like to think of these as artistic flair.

In the glorious state of Virginia, state inspections are required once a year, and in Northern Virginia, emissions inspections are required every two years. Poor ol' Tonya won't pass either without $1300 worth of work done. She's worth $1500-$1900. Obviously, it's time for a new car.

The Hoff was expecting this and has been looking at cars already. And, he's hell bent on getting a BMW.

Maybe it's just me, but I don't understand the appeal of luxury cars, or cars in general. The minute you drive them off the lot, their value depreciates by thousands of dollars. More than likely, it's going to get scratched, dinged, damaged, etc., so why pour so much money into something you won't make any money off of??!!

I've tried to reason with him:

Me: I just don't get why you don't look into a Toyota, Honda, Nissan, etc.
The Hoff: I've wanted a BMW my whole life. I'm 24, I don't have any responsibilities, it's the perfect time to get one.
Me: I've wanted a pair of Jimmy Choos my whole life. I'm 25, my legs will never look like this again-I may as well invest in some stilettos to accentuate them. But, why should I spend $1000 on Jimmy Choos when I can get the same effect on a $65 pair from Nine West?
The Hoff: Go ahead and get them then.

This, coming from the guy who rants and raves that he doesn't understand why girls need so many shoes, purses, etc. Yet, a luxury car is justifiable.

I'm throwing in the towel. I've tried to be the voice of reason, but there's just no getting through. Luckily, I'll have something to throw in his face when I go on my next shoe shopping spree.

The Hoff may have won the battle, but I will win the war! :)

Frugal Fashion Finds

2009-09-25T10:12:00.017-04:00

The fashion bible says that day dresses are a must-have for fall. I agree. Comfortable, easy to throw on for a girl like me who is never on time, and can transition flawlessly from day to night - a practical addition to any wardrobe.

Old Navy Women's Tie-Front Flutter-Sleeve Dress

THE LIMITED Pleat Detail Dress

New York & Company City Style Belted Ruffle Print Shirtdress

Calvin Klein Roll Neck Ponte Knit Dress (at Nordstrom)

Jessica Howard Belted Dress (at Dillard's)

Calvin Klein Belted Dress (at Dillard's)

Sangria Y-Collar Short Missy Dress (at Target)

EXPRESS Cowl-Neck Sweater Dress

THE LIMITED Draped Waist Dress

I'm not sure this constitutes as a day dress, but I'm slightly obsessed so I'm adding it to the list anyway.

Adriana Papell Ruffle Front Sheath Dress (at Nordstrom)

Oh, and head to Macy's through this Saturday to stock up on boots, pumps and flats. They are having a HUGE SHOE SALE!

Real Men Drink Mike's Hard Lemonade

2009-09-23T09:46:00.004-04:00

This weekend, The Hoff and I made a spontaneous trip to Baltimore so he could see his beloved Red Sox hand it to the Orioles.

I like going to baseball games, but I get bored pretty easily and have to find other ways to entertain myself. America's favorite pasttime may be baseball, but mine is definitely people watching.

During the third inning, I looked a few rows in front of me and saw a 40-year old man chugging Mike's Hard Lemonade. 1) I didn't know they served such things at ballparks and 2) I didn't think that anyone over the age of 16 drank Mike's.

I tried to give the guy the benefit of the doubt, and thought maybe he was just in the mood to lose his manhood and self-respect in exchange for the nauseatingly sweet taste of hard lemonade. But a few innings later, I heard him call up to his friend, already at the top of the stairs, to grab him another Mike's. Clearly, this guy has no shame.

Next thing I knew, he was double-fisting a strawberry daiquiri along with his Mike's. One would think that his friends would give him so much shit that he's feel forced to switch to a more manlier beverage, but oh no - his compadres were knocking those bad boys back along with him. If that doesn't scream "bad ass," I don't know what does.

Of course, I had to document this spectacle. It was too hilarious not to share. Think of it as a "Where's Waldo" scenairo, except look for the guy with Fonzie-like greasy hair, wearing a long-sleeved gray t-shirt and leaning over his seat seductively with a Mike's in hand.

Speaking of the Red Sox, check out this clip from Jennifer Garner's appearance on Leno the other night. Now she is badass...and I doubt she'd be caught dead drinking Mike's.

Back Where I Come From...

2009-09-17T11:26:00.004-04:00

I grew up in a suburb of Richmond, Virginia. I love my hometown. People are friendly, sweet tea is served everywhere by the gallon and life is a bit more slow-paced than up here in D.C.

But poor ol' R.I.C. doesn't have the best reputation. Here are some of our claims to fame - or shame I guess would be more appropriate:

1) Capital of the Confederacy

2) Host of two big Nascar races (I've actually heard these are good, drunken fun.)

3) Highest murder rate per capita

4) Headquarters of Phillip Morris

5) Location of the Michael Vick trial

I promise, the majority of us are upstanding, law-abiding non-rednecks.

Now, we can add another winner to the list. Chris Brown is, as we speak, picking up trash in my beloved stomping grounds.

Watch this video.

Punk-a-rellie (as my dad likes to refer to douchebags) is carrying on like he's having the time of his life while serving a court-ordered punishment for assaulting his girlfriend.

And apparently this is national news-People and the LA Times are just some of the few that think this is worthy of being reported.

I just love how Richmond only makes headlines when dog killers and girlfriend beaters are in town.

Hopefully Mr. Brown will be long gone by next Friday when I'm back in the 804.

iPhones Are Whores

2009-09-15T12:49:00.006-04:00

The Hoff and his roommates enrolled in the AT&T Family Plan so they could all get iPhones.

Let's all say it together now: AWWWWW

In all seriousness, it was a pretty genius idea. They are all paying less than they were with individual plans. Let's just hope they remain as close as the Bradys throughout the length of the contract.

And I have to admit, I sort of heart the iPhone. Even though it has been the source of some lovers' quarrels.

Quarrel #1:
I asked my friend, Queen, who has had an iPhone for quite some time, what apps I should download onto The Hoff's phone. She recommended "Sally's Beauty Spa." It's basically a time management came where you tell Sally, the spa owner, in which area of the spa she should be working. Some clientele are more patient and higher tippers than others (like in the real world), and if they get pissed off for poor service, they storm out and throw merchandise around.

I can play this game for hours - much to the chagrin of The Hoff. After two hours of being so trasnfixed in spa land and oblivous to anything going on around me, the Hoff said: "Now I know how girls feel like when guys play video games."

Major milestone for women achieved without even trying. I. AM. AWESOME.

Quarrel #2:
I found a free wine tasting going on in Georgetown on the Washington Post's Going out Guide, so The Hoff and I decided to check it out. I vaguely read directions on how to get to the restaurant, but didn't write down the address or directions. I just assumed we could use GPS on The Hoff's iPhone to find our way.

He was not pleased I didn't come prepared. Um...when are men ever prepared??!!

It didn't help that AT&T has craptastic service and it took 15 minutes for googlemaps to load.

Thirty minutes later, we finally made it. All was right in the world by our second glass of wine.

Quarrel #3:
A few days later, The Hoff and I were venturing to another location in the city we had never been, aka we'd get miserably lost without specific walking directions.

The Hoff: Did you print out directions?
Me: No, I just thought we could use your iPhone.
(I actually had printed off directions, I just like to get The Hoff exasperated for comedic value.)
The Hoff: Miss Procras., my iPhone is not a whore! She's not available whenever you want her!
Me: BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I'm sure there will be many more of these throughout the iPhone's existence.

Frugal Fashion Finds

2009-09-11T15:11:00.015-04:00

I picked up the newest issue of InStyle the other day and holy magazine gods was it heavy. 500 pages of fall fashion for me to ooh and aah over. I almost fainted in the checkout line. (Side note: Does anyone else read the last page of the magazine first? I'm incapable of reading from front to back like normal people.)

Anyway, I immediately started flipping through, and noticed that cardigans are listed as one of the 'fall fashion must-haves.' Obviously, I won't be purchasing a $600 3.1 Phillip Lim oversize sweater, so I decided to compile my own list.

Short cardigans are perfect for mild temperatures. And they don't have to be confined to one season. Once cold air moves in, add a long sleeve shirt for extra warmth.

TOPSHOP Knitted Wrap Cardigan

TOPSHOP Knitted Chun ky Short Card igan

TOPSHOP Knitted Shoulder Cardigan

EXPRESS Strong Shoulder Cardigan Sweater

If your office is like mine, you need a sweater no matter what the thermometer reads. These will keep you warm and add some fun to your business attire.

EXPRESS Crew Cardigan Sweater-Polka Dots

New York & Company City Style Dip-Dye Argyle Cardigan

I'm slightly obsessed with this extra-long sweaters. They are so comfortable and versatile. I love pairing them with skinny jeans and flats.

Mossimo Black: Ultrasoft Boyfriend Cardigan

New York and Company City Style Long Cardigan

Forever 21 Extended Length C ardigan

Open front cardigans are perfect for going out. Throw a strappy tanks underneath and stay warm while still looking sexy.

EXPRESS Elbow Sleeve Flyaway Cardigan

EXPRESS Flyaway Cardigan Hoodie

Nordstrom Absolutely Cotton Open Pointelle Cardigan

I love this new spin on the sweater coat. So chic.

EXPRESS Military Sweater Coat

Be sure to check out Instyle.com for hundreds of cardigans in a variety of styles and prices.

When Being Late Bites You in the A**

2009-09-10T13:13:00.009-04:00

I am a walking fashion faux-pas today.

All because I'm a lazy p.o.s. and hit the snooze button five times before dragging myself out of bed and rushing to get to work at a decent time.

I ended up leaving five minutes before I'm supposed to be at work. And I have about a 20-30 minute commute. Yeah, I suck. And in my haste to get ready, I overlooked something VERY important.

...I wore bikini briefs instead of a thong.

This is a problem for three reasons:

1) The black capris I'm wearing hug my curves and the fabric isn't very forgiving.
2) I have a ghetto bootay, which means I have to wear a thong with almost all my pants, skirts, etc.
3) My biggest pet peeve (next to men who sit cross-legged like women-WHY DO SO MANY CELEBS DO THIS??!!) is when you can see women's panty lines. So gross.

I would have turned around and gone home, but I didn't realize my dilemma until I was basically in my office parking lot.

So, I've been tugging my camisole down all day, trying to make it long enough to cover my ass(with my ghetto booty, it ain't happenin')and making friends with the wall so no one will see the disgustingness that is my backside.

Maybe I should start keeping a spare thong at work in case this happens again like I do with deodorant. Then again, if anyone found them, it would probably raise a lot of questions.

Guess this means I need to start getting up on time. Le sigh.

Facebook + Relationships = Trouble

2009-09-09T14:45:00.007-04:00

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. At best, I'd consider us frenemies.

Sure, it provides hours of distraction at work and keeps you connected to faraway friends, but it also raises added complications, especially when relationships are concerned.

1) Can relationships actually start from a Facebook encounter?

Witness dialogue from “He’s Just Not That Into You:”
Mary: He MySpaced me.
Nathan: Ouch!
Mary: Oh.
Joshua: Oh girl I don't know about that... My trampy little sister says MySpace is the new booty call.

2) Is it absolutely vital to confirm your relationship on Facebook?

3) What about when you break up? Is it best to delete an ex from your friend list?

4) If you stay Facebook friends, is it healthy to: sneak a peek at an ex’s profile, pics, status; send messages occasionally? What’s proper Facebook ex etiquette?

When I apply these questions to my own life, I wonder – am I going about this Facebook relationship thing all wrong?

1) The night I met The Hoff, I scurried off before he could ask for my number to avoid an awkward goodbye. I obviously wanted him to ask for my number, but I didn’t want him to know that. To my surprise, I got a friend request and FB message from him the next day. Guess this refutes the logic of Facebook communication = booty call.

2) I never confirmed a relationship on Facebook until I started dating The Hoff. And even then, I didn’t confirm it until we had been together almost a year.

I just don’t understand people who feel the need to broadcast their love and devotion all over Facebook. It makes me want to vomit all over my screen reading about how perfect someone’s boyfriend/husband is and how they can’t wait to see them in 2.75 hours.

The Hoff’s roommates used to joke that The Hoff and I weren’t in a real relationship since we weren’t even confirmed on FB. Since when does a social networking site determine how real your relationship is?

I think that’s bullshit- you can absolutely be in a loving, committed relationship without advertising it. Though I will admit, it does prevent certain former flings from contacting you, thinking you are single, when they can easily check your relationship status.

3) My most recent ex is still on my friends list. We didn’t have a nasty breakup or anything, so it didn’t seem necessary to delete him.

4) I have to admit, I do check out my recent ex’s profile/pics/status updates everyone once in a while. He has a new girlfriend and a new job, and I have to admit, it does sting a little to read that and feel like I know nothing about a person that I used to know everything about. But I can’t stop myself from looking.

It makes me wonder if that nagging feeling of knowing your ex is with someone else ever goes away. And if not, is it really healthy to keep him on my friends list and have a constant reminder that I’m no longer a part of his life? And if I do delete him and he realizes it, will I look like pathetic and immature?

I think as new technologies emerge, we have to create new rules and boundaries for ourselves. Like with cell phones, I have a few friends who will file a girlfriend’s number under their recent ex’s name so that even if they drunk dial him, they’ll reach someone who can cheer them up. (Of course this doesn’t help if you know the bastard’s number by heart.)

I have a feeling by the time I get my personal Facebook etiquette system down pat, something else will come along that I have to figure out all over again.

So I'm curious-what are your Facebook relationship rules? How do you think relationships should be handled on social networking sites?

Frugal Fashion Finds

2009-09-04T10:37:00.004-04:00

Fellow bargain shop-a-holics,

Labor day weekend is upon us-a bittersweet end to the carefree days of summer (though after college, are they really that carefree?). Flip flops and sandals will soon be relegated to the back of the closet and replaced with boots and closed-toe pumps.

Fortunately, it marks one of the biggest shopping events of the year. Additional discounts are available on summer clearance items in effort to push them out the door and fall merchandise can be found at special rates. So, grab your VISAs, head to the nearest fashion mecca (or computer for you online shopping gurus) and immerse yourself in major savings.

Here's just a smattering of some of the sales going on this weekend:

Macy's
Save 40-70% on regular-priced items
Take an extra 25% off clearance

Nordstrom
Shoe Clearance-take 33% off or more

Lord & Taylor
Pre-season coat sale; save an extra 20%
15% Storewide Savings Pass on Sale and Clearance items

Bloomingdale's
Big Brown Bag Sale: Take an extra 30% off select already reduced merchandise

Nine West
Savings up to 70% off
Extra 30% off sale sandals

Express
$15 off every $60 spent (print coupon here)
All jeans-BOGO 1/2 off

Banana Republic
Select fall essentials 30% off

Gap
*note: this is online ONLY*
15% off purchase of $75
20% off purchase of $100
25% off purchase of $150

The Limited
Select shirts 40% off
All online orders: $5 flat rate shipping

Ann Taylor
Buy one full-priced item get the second 50% off

Ann Taylor LOFT
Labor Day Sale: Fresh New Markdowns

DSW
*note: this is online ONLY*
Take an extra 30% off clearance merchandise
Free shipping with $35 purchase

White House Black Market
Labor Day Sale-up to 65% off

Happy Shopping!

xoxo,

Miss Procras.

Drool Me a River

2009-09-02T14:53:00.001-04:00

I'm not the best bed buddy in the world.

I steal covers, maneuver myself into a diagonal position so I'm monopolizing 99% of the bed and grind my teeth.

I also have what doctor's refer to as a bit of a drooling problem.

Sunday night, I attempted to watch Mad Men with The Hoff. Since the new season started a few weeks ago, I've been telling him I'll watch an episode. (He claims it's one of the best shows on t.v. right now.) I haven't been able to make it to the first commercial break without crashing. That's what happens when you bring your A-game all weekend...

I must have been really spent this past Sunday because before I knew it, The Hoff was grabbing my jaw to keep me from grinding my teeth. (I have my own personal mouth guard.) Then, I woke up, lifted my head, and noticed a string a drool connecting my mouth to an Olympic-sized puddle in the middle of The Hoff's chest. (Don't worry, I mopped before zonking out again.)

But I wasn't done wrecking slumber havoc yet.

When The Hoff was trying to peacefully sleep, I pulled all the covers onto my side of the bed while simultaneously pushing him onto the floor in effort to obtain my preferred diagonal sleeping position.

The irony to this all is I have to be in a completely quiet environment to fall asleep. I can't have the t.v. or radio on (unless I'm completely wiped out), and I DETEST snoring. I've gone so far as to sleep in my car or a bathtub to avoid the freight-train noises that come from people with a deviated septum. It irritates me that much.

And The Hoff is a very pleasant bed companion. He sometimes lightly snores, but it's so faint it wouldn't bother anyone accept yours truly and her bat-like ears. You better believe he gets poked in the ribs anytime his breathing reaches 1 dB.

...I definitely would have kicked my ass to the couch by now if I were him.

Frugal Fashion Finds

2009-08-28T13:10:00.005-04:00

When I was little, I loved to watch 'Star Search.' My favorite part was the supermodel showcase. I would turn to my mom and say, "I'm going to be a modeler when I grow up."

Yeah, that dream crashed and burned.

Problem #1: I'm 5'4"
Problem #2: I like to eat. A lot.
Problem #3: I don't like cigarettes or cocaine.

By the time I started high school, I had a new career in mind: fashion writer. I love fashion, I enjoy writing - why not merge the two?

Seemed like a perfectly realistic goal, until I realized the following:

Problem #1: I don't want to move to NYC.
Problem #2: I don't want to work for Anna Wintour.
Problem #3: Magazines aren't really hiring right now.

But then I got to thinking: Just because I have some cards stacked against me, doesn't mean I can't write about fashion on my own terms. After all, 'fashionably' is in the title of my blog.

So, each Friday, I will post my favorite fashion finds of the week. And the best part: they will all be under $100. I rarely spend more than that on an article of clothing, and I don't think many women my age do either. There's nothing I hate more than flipping through InStyle and falling in love with a pair of shoes only to look at the price and see that they cost more than my rent.

This week, as summer slips further away and fall descends upon us, I decided to post items from both seasons.

I love shopping at the end of the season. It's the perfect opportunity to stock up on essentials and pay next to nothing. I've been looking for a beach bag all summer and stumbled upon this straw tote from Anthropologie. It's only $9.95! And guaranteed, this will not be out of style next year.

Anthropologie Sea Geology Tote

This tank is a great transition piece. It comes in purple (shown below), blue and black. I'm still not sold on the price tag, but I love it so much I may just have to splurge.

Anthropologie Twisted Tank

As soon as these babies are under $60, they are MINE. So versatile-I'd wear them to work or out for drinks (as long as I knew I was staying in one place for the night. Can't be walking 10 miles in 4" heels.) Available in twelve different prints/colors and in suede, leather, synthetic or faux fur.

Nine West Bonfire Peep Toe Pumps

I absolutely adore the color of this coat - it's the perfect shade for fall and would jazz up any outfit. I have a jacket from GAP in the same material and it is so warm and comfortable. Bonus: it's on sale! (The word "sale" is my kryptonite if you haven't noticed.)

GAP Moleskin Coat

Working in D.C., I see way more navy blue and black than any person ever should. Why do people feel the need to dress stuffy, drab and boring just because you're going to work? I find that if I'm wearing a fun outfit, my energy is more positive. Sure, going to work is depressing, but you shouldn't take it out on your clothes. This skirt is out of the ordinary and still office- appropriate.

Forever 21 Abstract Printed Skirt

Apparently leather biker jackets are all the rage this fall. I found a cute one on sale in the Nordstrom BP department. (The only area of that fashion utopia I can afford.)

LuLu and Veronica Faux Leather Biker Jacket

How hot are these pumps? I love the color (gunmetal). They give off a biker chic vibe.

GUESS 'Carrie' Leather Pump

If I ever reach baller status, I WILL own this bag:

Rebecca Minkoff Morning After

Until then, this little guy will do.

Forever 21 Faux Croc Tote

Random Humpday Fun

2009-08-26T10:28:00.007-04:00

It's humpday and my eyes are glazing over from nothing to do at work.

Luckily, my dearest friend, Queen, sent me an e-mail full of random thoughts to keep me entertained. It was basically a list of things you've thought to yourself a hundred times but never dare admit to anyone else.

Below, is a smattering of my faves (with my own commentary, of course.) Enjoy!

I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.
Especially to avoid areas like SE D.C. Thank god the Nats stadium finally moved.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
This happened to me last night when I got into a debate with The Hoff and his roommate about when Big Ben was drafted and won his first Superbowl. They just got iPhones and put me in my place with confirmed facts from Wikipedia. I HATE being wrong!

I don't understand the purpose of the line, "I don't need to drink to have fun." Great, no one does. But why start a fire with flint and sticks when they've invented the lighter?
Amen.

Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you're going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you're crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk.
Story of my life. Anyone know how to do this discretely?

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
Why the f didn't I take advantage of nap time in Kindergarten?!

Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ's. We just figured it out. Today's kids are soft.
Kids today, I swear.

There is a great need for sarcasm font.
::sarcasm:: or note the sarcasm just don't cut it

Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the hell was going on when I first saw it.
That would be "Dirty Dancing" for me. Totally didn't realize she got an sma-smortion.

How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
And keep them wrinkle-free? It sucks waking up with a gazillion sleep lines in the morning.

I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
Who cares if you get indents in your arms that hurt like crazy and you have to waddle to keep from tipping over because one side is always heavier than the other?

The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying to finish a text.
Or put on make-up, pluck my eyebrows, find the pen I just dropped so I can write down an address. Yeah, I'm that annoying/unsafe person who multi-tasks while driving.

It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.
Don't they know most people can't have sound on at work?

Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.
I'm convinced teachers have some conspiracy going on to fuck with students when they're already experiencing peak stress levels.

I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers!
Can this please happen in D.C. more often? Let's start a club!

Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using 'as in' examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot. Today I had to spell my boss's last name to an attorney and said "Yes that's G as in...(10 second lapse)..ummm...'Goonies'"
I work in a call center. This happens to me at least 15 times a day. And I'm totally going to start using movie titles or celebrities instead of fruits or common names. What's the fun in that?

It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.
Seriously, I don't think anyone goes there who is experiencing a planned pregnancy.

I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren’t watching this. It's only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?'
Precisely why I always avoid sitting next to the remote.

I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.
No commentary necessary. This is just hilarious.

Why does the entire right side of my body hurt?

2009-08-24T13:13:00.003-04:00

Because I'm a drunk asshole, that's why.

Let me explain.

This weekend, I experienced the shitshow that is Dewey Beach. I've heard DC-ers and NOVA-ites rave about this place for three years now, and I figured I needed to see what all the fuss was about.

The Hoff and I decided to take a trip with his roommate and his roommate's girlfriend. I found us a hotel that ended up being in prime drinking location (i.e no more than 4 blocks from the all the good bars.)

Friday night was normal enough. I was in that happy-drunk state where everything is right in the world.

But Saturday was a different story. I was pissed to begin with because the Steelers lost (I know it was only preseason football, but I still hate when they lose).

Then, two sleazy d-bags decided it would be a good idea to grab my ass. Side note: I'm often told I have a ghetto booty, and have been blessed with such nicknames as 'junk in the trunk' and 'bootylicious,' so I've grown accustomed to the attention my ass attracts.

That being said, I do not appreciate random dudes grabbing my goods. You have to be inducted into the super-exclusive Miss Procras. ass-grabbing club to have that honor bestowed upon you.

Problem #2 is I've never been that good at sticking up for myself. (I usually have Lo around to do that for me.) My rebuttal (no pun intended) to being assaulted? Throw ice fat one of the guys from five feet away. Yeah, I'm bad ass.

I decided that after the bar, some good ol'fashion drunk food was in order. But by the time The Hoff and I got our pizza, I felt sick and asked if we could go back to our room.

This is where things get really, really fuzzy.

I ate a slice and a half of pizza, then kept mumbling over and over that I didn't feel well. The Hoff escorted me to the bathroom and held my hair back while I vomitandoed a few times.

Next thing I knew, I woke up wondering why the hell the right side of my body ached so much and realized I was passed out on the floor of the bathroom. Apparently, I refused to move after my vom sesh, so The Hoff gave up and brought me a pillow and blanket so I could slumber peacefully on the cold, hard, germ-infested floor.

My side is still in pain.

Oddly enough, that was the first time I passed out on a bathroom floor. Picnic tables, stages and underneath tables are usually more my style.

I really need to find more comfortable places to lay my head when wasted - or just don bubble wrap before I go out drinking.

Miss Procras. and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad WEEK

2009-08-20T15:53:00.009-04:00

Remember this book? I hadn't thought about it in years until I started brainstorming fun titles for today's post.

Mucho apologies for being MIA the past few days. I was so proud of myself for posting 4 times last week and thought-I've turned over a new leaf! I'll post more than once a week now! Yay me! Yeah, last week was clearly just a fluke.

But it's been a shit-tastic week. Let me explain-

Tuesday and Wednesday I was sick with a UTI. No matter how much cranberry juice I drink or how often I pee after doing the deed, I get these at least 5 times a year. F my life.

Then, today, I returned to work and was almost immediately greeted with a request to meet my supervisor in the conference room for a chat. (Just to refresh your memory, I was called into the conference room nine days ago because my dress shorts weren't considered office appropriate. This coming from a woman wearing a muumuu. But that's neither here nor there.)

Anyway, I sorta flipped my shit. I've been on my breaking point for weeks and this jolted me over the edge. I ran outside and called The Hoff to tell him I was going to quit. Luckily, he was in a more rational frame of mind and pointed out that a) I had yet to line up a new job and b) if I quit, I would have no health insurance.

I hate to admit it, but he raised two very legitimate points.

So, I went to the meeting, still pissed as hell, but not quite as gung-ho on giving my notice.

After being lectured for ten minutes, I was handed a memo. (To give you a synopsis of the memo, it basically stated that they are unhappy with my performance and attendance. You see, at the lovely company in which I'm employed, you have to accrue your sick days. That's right, ACCRUE. I would like to get my hands on the genius who thought of that. And since I didn't have enough PTO to cover my two sick days this week, they were not happy.)

Anyway, I wouldn't really consider a memo being an acceptable form of written communication regarding work performance, but what do I know. I read over it, found at least 20 typo-s, spelling and grammatical errors and was then asked if I had any questions or comments.

"Why yes, madame supervisor, yes I do. I'm not sure if you're aware, but you no longer need to add two spaces in between sentences. Also, the phrases 'becoming to the point' and 'more than often' are very stylistically awkward. Lastly, you may want to enroll in a basic grammar course to review comma usage."

No, I didn't really say that, but I wish I had.

Instead, I replied that I thought it would be best for both me and the company if I sought employment elsewhere. Considering the anxiety and stress from this job are what's affecting my health, it would benefit both parties for me to go on my merry way.

So, now the cat's outta the bag. No, I didn't give my official resignation, but they know I'm outta here on the first direct flight (read: job offer).

Btw, I know this topic is getting tired, so I'm retiring the rants regarding work. Hopefully my next job-related post will be to inform you that I got a new one!

The Donald is going to appear and yell "You're Fired!" any minute now

2009-08-14T13:56:00.020-04:00

This week has been an interesting week at work. And not in a good way.

Yes, I was late every day, but that's standard. (Today I was only 9 minutes late, which I gave myself major kudos for.)

Tuesday, I wore a new pair of dress shorts I purchased from Banana last weekend. (They were this style, but tan.) I bought them specifically for work, and paired them with peep-toe brown heels and a dressy brown top. I couldn't wait to wear a fun, new outfit.

Around 11 a.m., I got an IM (yes, we use Instant Messenger at work-annoying as hell) from one of my supervisors that said, "Hi Miss Procras., may I speak to you in the conference room for a minute please?"

I knew this little chat was not going to go well. It's akin to being sent to the principal's office in elementary school. I could just hear the childhood taunts of "ooooooohhhhh! Miss Procras. is in troooooooouuuuuble!!"as I walked to the conference room.

Turns out, our little meeting was about my new shorts. Apparently they don't adhere to the company's dress code. Even though I've been wearing a gray and black pair all summer and even though another co-worker had on a pair last week (to which, my manager replied, that there is no rhyme or reason for who gets singled out.)

Now, I would have no problem with this policy if it were consistent. I would also have no problem if the dress code was more clearly outlined. When I first started, the dress code stated we could wear jeans on Friday. So, I wore jeans on my first Friday, then got a friendly IM that day stating our department does not allow jeans.

Does anyone else see a problem with this besides me? Why the F-ity F would you say something is okay to wear if it's not?! And why, if you're going to be anal, would you not be as specific as possible?! Especially since there are so many clothing options for women!

I was livid. I try really hard to project a professional, polished image at work. It's not like I go around, cleavage exposed, ass hanging out.

So I vented to The Hoff and my mom during my lunch break and drank a few cosmos after work. Cosmos cure all.

Then, on Thursday, The Hoff had a meeting he needed to leave for by 9 - the same time I needed to leave. I woke up, looked at the clock, and was horrified to see 9:45 flashing in front of me.

I rubbed my eyes. The time didn't change.
Thought maybe I had my days wrong and maybe it was actually Saturday. Pondered for a few seconds, and realized, unfortunately, it was Thursday. The Hoff had 15 minutes to get to Woodbridge while I was already 15 minutes late.

Panic set it.

As calmly as I could, I woke up The Hoff. I've never seen anyone fly out of bed as fast as he did. I've also never heard anyone curse that much. (Must be the Bahston in him.)

Honestly, neither of us can even remember the alarm going off. Definitely interesting explaining that one to the boss.

At this point, I'm so over my job I just don't care anymore. I keep telling myself to suck it up so I can continue paying my bills until I find something that actually falls in line with my career goals.

For my sanity's sake, I really hope that's sooner rather than later. (And before the Trumpster shows up.)

Thank the sweet baby Jesus it's Friday. Time to detox from work and intox (I know that's not a real word, but it should be) on alcohol!

Botox Is a Blog's Best Friend

2009-08-12T13:45:00.007-04:00

As you can tell, my blog had some work done. The old blog was looking tired, worn and outdated. This new and improved one looks fun, fresh and full of life.

Note the sarcasm.

I have all these great design ideas for my blog. I just have no clue how to go about bringing them to fruition.

Clicking the "customize" tab, sorting through templates and playing with color schemes is about the extent of my design skills. I've used InDesign, Illustrator, Photoshop and Dreamweaver before. I just lack both the patience and the talent to create projects I'd allow anyone to see.

So, my poor blog will be confined to blogger templates until I either a) miraculously wake up one morning an Adobe Creative Suite genius or b) pay someone to design my blog for me.

Sorry, blog, momma can only give you a mini-botox injection right now. Don't you worry, though you'll be nipped, tucked and wrinkle-free soon enough.

In other news, I came across this article today and have never been more disturbed/appalled/grossed out/other horrid adjectives.

I work for a breastfeeding helpline, and I'm all for a woman breastfeeding her baby if that's what she wants to do. By why do 5-year-old girls need to be learning how to breastfeed on their yet-to-be-developed bodies? There is something seriously wrong with that picture. Thoughts?

PS-Check out Just Jack's blog today for a guest post by yours truly.

Bermuda (aka Paradise)

2009-08-11T13:37:00.017-04:00

I didn’t realize this post would be so depressing to write. Maybe it’s because instead of being surrounded by crystal blue water and foreign waiters who bring you drinks on demand, I’m drinking hot chocolate to try and stay warm in my sub-zero degree office and squinting from the blinding flourescent light. Why, oh why, can’t I be by a window so I can watch the squirrels play? (Quick! Name that movie.)

Anyway, here's a smattering of pics from the trip. We were at Bermuda during their 400th anniversary celebration and the annual cricket tournament (basically their version of the World Cup.) Kinda cool, except that the bars close wayyy early those days. Maybe because they serve FREE beer at the cricket match.

Approaching Bermuda. See that small opening between the two pieces of land ahead? Yeah, the cruise ship had to fit through that. (That's what she said...)

Right after arriving in St. George, Bermuda. That's the cruise ship in the background.

Walking around the town of St. George, where our boat docked the first day. Virtually no clouds in the sky, but there was still a rainbow.

I went on the cruise with my parents, little brother, and some family friends who have a daughter my age and a son my bro's age. Luckily, the "parents" wanted to drink just as much as we did. I found this sign at the first bar we went to. Note that Michael Douglas made the list, along with other fine citizens such as "White Rat" and "Sambuca." I'm sure Catherine Zeta-Jones is thrilled...
They have Michael Jackson-themed snow cones! Of course, I had to try one out. I got the "Beat It" flavor, which consisted of strawberry, blackberry and gingerbeer. AMAZING!!

Day 2 in Bermuda-Horseshoe Bay. By far the most beautiful beach I've ever seen. The sand is pink (I ended up getting a handmade pendant that holds some of the sand) and the water is so clear it's like being in a swimming pool. You also get to see really pretty fish swim right past you.

More of Horseshoe Bay. They had these really tall, rocky cliffs surrounding the water. I decided to climb to the top for some photo opps. Kinda hard to see, but on the a ledge of the rocks below, some guys were jumping off into the water. I'm definitely not brave/crazy enough to try that stunt-I kinda wanted to live to see more of Bermuda.

Martini bar we stopped at after a day on the beach. I got a yummy blue raspberry concoction.

The cruise ship had an on-board art auction that I only went to because they were promising free champagne. Unfortunately, I never got my champagne, but I did stumble upon the best football jersey EVER. If only I had a spare $1100, this baby would be MINE.

Ranting Sesh, Version 1

2009-08-10T14:08:00.007-04:00

Part of dating The Hoff means watching Red Sox games. Any and all that are televised here in our nation's capital. (The Hoff claims this is hardly any, but I beg to differ.)

I've come to accept this trait of The Hoff. As a loving, caring girlfriend, I know to only call him during commercials if I'm not with him when his team is playing.

And I have to admit, I've found myself cheering for ol' Beantown. Especially when they play the Yankees.

In fact, I don't think I detest any sports team more than I do the Yanks.

Johnny Damon: Yuck (Way to lie about never leaving Boston and then going to their arch nemesis for a measley $4 million pay increase. Whatever-don't need you anyway.)
Derek Jeter: Gag me (Dated Mariah Carey, 'nuff said.)
A-Rod: Sorry excuse for a human being. (Kate Hudson, please stop hanging out with such a loser. You seem wayyyy to cool for him.)

In comparison:
Pedroia: MVP (what, what)
Youkalis: That guy just looks like he could kick ass and take names.
Ellsbury: HOTT
Ortiz: Love when he's at bat and spits on his gloves then slaps his hands together. Cracks me up for some reason. (Hey, I have to find something to entertain me.)

My heart broke a little this weekend when I had to watch the Sox lose. I think I got more angry than The Hoff watching those bastards gloat. I even hid my face under the covers when A-Rod was up to bat. I refuse to waste minutes of my life watching that d-bag.

I'm still a little heated from last night if you can't tell.

I apologize if any of my readers are Yankees fans. I still love you, I just don't like your team. :)

Tonight, I'm FINALLY posting pics and a recap of my Bermuda vacay.

Miss Procras.: A Recap

2009-08-05T09:04:00.006-04:00

I'm still in vacation mode. I have yet to unpack, do laundry or anything else one should be doing upon returning from a trip. But we all know I'm not one to follow those sorts of norms.

What really sucks is trying to break vacation mode at work when you have two huge deadlines looming. Don't my bosses know I need to catch up on blogs, celebrity gossip and what happened in the rest of the world while I was in Bermuda?! I mean, I missed the Saved by the Bell reunion for crying out loud!

Since I'm a little slammed at the moment, I asked Just Jack if he would do a guest post for me. He graciously obliged (thanks, Lovie!), and decided to provide you all with a little insight into our relationship.

Hello Fellow Miss Procras. Followers!

For those that don't know who I am, you can call me Just Jack. I've been asked to appear as a Guest Blogger. I, of course, was flattered but not surprised. I mean, I am fabulous and whatever I say tends to be golden...even if it is making fun of your outift!

You can catch me regularly on my own blog Kiss It! Spank It! Tranny! Shameless plug, I know, but word of mouth advertising is always the most effective, even when most of the time the words coming out of your mouth warrant a bronzer compact flung at your face ;)

Anywho, back to the real topic of today's post: Miss Procras. herself. I've had many memories created from my long-time friendship with the slut and I wouldn't trade it in for anything. We've become rather close over the past year, I think, and its made seeing her all the better.

But in order to understand what we are now, you'll need to understand what were back then. And, for that, let me start at the beginning.

The first time I met Miss P was at her and her roommates' Pink Party. I did not own anything pink, at the time...shocking...but you had to wear pink in order to enter the party slash get a drink. I purchased a pink Aeropostale polo (looking back in hindsight...ew) and headed over that evening to their apartment. I knew their roommate at the time and no one else really. I had met Miss P briefly before the party as we were both orientation guides that summer. Let's just say that we ended up finding each other at the party and proceeded to make fun of people and their disgusting outfits for the rest of the evening. Can we say kismet?

After that I began regularly hanging out at the apartment and became very close with their other roommate, Lo (as Miss Procras refers to her on this blog). I was soon inducted as honorary roommate (the fourth one was a total twat who owned a small dog that warranted nothing except the urge to throw it off the balcony). At that time I also became a member of the Pink Penthouse tribe, which will live in infamy in the form of a small wooden chair painted, by us, as an omage to our friendships, the color pink, and the memories that we carry with us to this day. It still resides, I believe, in the student lounge at JMU.

Since then Miss P and I have formed an inseparable bond; one consisting of me yelling at her for never being on time to anything, relationship advice, and, as always, help picking out an outfit and accesories for an evening out. I've been through a lot of things with her and seen her grow to the person she is today. I've seen her at her worst and have watched her triumph over some tranny bull shit that we all seem to encounter from time to time.

I love me some Miss Procras., lateness and all...even when it means picking me up from the metro when I don't have a car, being a fervent supporter of the gay community by participating in Showtunes Night and the High Heel Race, or simply catching up over a glass of wine. There are very few people that affect your life in such a way that you know you want to be a part of theirs for a very long time...I said it yesterday in my blog...hold on to them because they don't come around very often.

I love you, Miss P. Always remember two things 1. I've seen your boobies and 2. I'll always be around for you just like I know you will for me too!

Love,

P.S. That top does not go with those jeans, I love your gold wedges, and go with the silver earings tonight ;) Oh and don't shop at Kohl's, TJ Max, Ross, Marshalls, OR Sanrio Surprise. Nothing says "disgusting tranny" like a Hello Kitty t-shirt and a plastic purse to match!

Bermuda, Bahama. Come On, Pretty Mama

2009-07-27T13:51:00.003-04:00

Meant to post this on Friday but I got busy wrapping things up at work and never got around to it.

I'll be MIA this week because I'm cruising to Bermuda. Never been on a cruise, or to Bermuda for that matter, so I'm pretty stoked.

It's been fun so far (minus a little motion sickness), but gotta love being on a boat with a casino, pool and LOADS of alcohol - even if they make you hand over your first born as payment.

Full recap of the week's events when I return next Monday. I'm off to work on my tan and my alcohol tolerance...

Later, Bias!

You Know It's a Good Night When Miss Procras. Passes Out

2009-07-22T13:28:00.010-04:00

I'm not a mean drunk. Or a dramatic lush. I'm actually the exact opposite.

I become extremely relaxed and somber after I've had a few. (Unless Britney is playing, then my ass is prancing around like a hooker on crack.)

But once I hit the point of no return, I have a habit of passing out in inappropriate places. Actual examples:

-Underneath a table at a bar on New Years Eve.
-On the ledge of a stage (please note: a band was performing while I was zonked out. I'm sure I did wonders for their confidence.)
-On a picnic table in the middle of a vineyard surrounded by families enjoying their lunch (as they watched me puke up mine.)
-A bathroom stall in a frat house...while still sitting on the toilet.

Thankfully, I have friends/babysitters who keep me from drowning, getting thrown out of bars, arrested, etc. Lo keeps joking that she's going to get me a leash or a tracking device for when we go out.

My most shining moment as of late? The quarter-century birthday extravaganza.

I meant to post a recap sooner, but we all now punctuality isn't my thing, so better late than never. :)

Needless to say, it was a succesful night. Good friends, good food, good tunes and most importantly, my wine glass was never empty.

After killing a bottle of pinot with SayJo and pounding the large juice-box shaped container of wine Biggie Smalls brought me, I was good to go. And quite appalled when the concert was over and the attendants began kicking people out of the venue.

I demanded, I mean, politely suggested, that we continue drinking at my apartment. I just wasn't ready for the party to stop.

Fast forward ten mintues later. Badass Roomie graciously served as our DD. I decided I needed to repay her by helping her drive. And by helping her drive I mean impending her ability to shift gears.

Then, I got a little frisky and tried to get fresh with her.

At least there was no passing out on stage next to Huey or in the bathroom. Maybe it's a sign I'm improving with age...or getting progressively lame. Hopefully it's not the latter.

TMI Thursday: No Love without the Glove

2009-07-16T16:07:00.006-04:00

I haven’t done a TMI in a while. Not that Monday’s posting wasn’t a bit of a TMI, but I felt inclined to do another one, after being inspired by the hilarious LiLu. A la Wayne Campbell: "I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy." That girl has some kick-ass TMI Thursday posts.

Anyway, this is more of a TMI for The Hoff than me. I apologize in advance, Hoffster.

I’m always amused to discover where boys stash their condoms. It’s like a treasure hunt when they have to go get one. The nightstand is always a popular choice, or the bureau, and of course the wallet for those unexpected rendezvous (but boys, beware-the wallet is not a safe haven for the Troj’s.)

Wherever the location, it tends to be easily accessible - you don’t want to interrupt the mood too much.

Unless you’re The Hoff.

The first few times we hooked up, The Hoff would have to get up, walk across his bedroom to the closet, reach on the top shelf and shuffle through a seemingly innocent-looking shoebox.

In the time it takes for the mood to almost completely fade and be replaced with this awkward, we-don’t-know-each-other-super-well-yet-but-we’re-about-to-do-it undertone, he’d triumphantly hold up the wrapper. I’m sure he also wanted to shout: “Arghh, matey, I found the booty!” (No pun intended).

I couldn’t help but laugh (discreetly) every time this scenario played out.

The Hoff must have either caught on or gotten fed up with the location because one night, I was surprised/freaked out when he rolled his bed away from the wall (yes, his bed has wheels on it…definitely keeps things interesting), and unveiled a new hiding place. Very inconspicuous: under the bed, up against the wall. And no more five-minute searches involved. Clever one, that Hoff.

Being the typical girl I am, I couldn’t help but share this info with my girlfriends and Just Jack.

Fast forward a few weeks later. Just Jack is with me at The Hoff’s for the first time, and The Hoff is giving him a tour. We reach The Hoff’s room and Just Jack immediately walks to the closet, points and says, “So, they used to be here, and now they’re here (while pointing to the wall).”

Just Jack and I thought this was the most hilarious thing ever, but I think The Hoff was slightly embarrassed. I think he’s still getting used to the fact that us girls share EVERYTHING with our girlfriends and gay best friends. Just a fact of life.

When "Did You Nail Him/Her?" Takes On a Whole New Meaning

2009-07-13T17:30:00.005-04:00

Over the weekend, Badass Roomie and I visited Lo so we could celebrate her 25^th birthday. On Saturday morning, we (and by ‘we’ I mean Lo and I both shrieked with excitement when we saw that “Clueless” was on TBS. What a perfect way to start the day!

(And my apologies, I think this is the third time I’ve referenced “Clueless” in my blog, but it’s my favorite movie in the whole wide world so you will more than likely see it referenced another 50,000 times.)

Anywho, we’re watching the part when Tai, Cher and Dee skip school to have a “calorie fest” at the mall and cheer up Tai, who’s just been dissed by Elton. They see a hunky waiter walk by, who is way too good looking to be a waiter, but that’s beside the point.

Dee: Survey says?

Tai: Do-able

Dee: Puny, I like ‘em big

Cher: Eww, I hate muscles.

Tai: You know, I don’t really care either way. ::holds up bent, limp looking breadstick:: Uh, as long as his you-know-what isn’t crooked. I really hate that.

Cher: What?

Dee: Shhh! Don’t scare her. Cher is saving herself for Luke Perry.

Tai: Cher, you’re a virgin?!

At which point, being the dear friends they are, Badass Roomie and Lo bring up my nail story. We all have a good laugh, and then I realize I’ve neglected to share this little gem with the blogging community. And this is just too good not to share.

I was quite the little church girl back in my day. Went every Sunday, attended youth group, spent a week every summer at church camp, sang in the choir, etc. So angelic and innocent…hard to believe, I know.

While I was in high school, my church organized this group called ‘Just Wait’ which promoted-you guessed it-abstinence until marriage. It was comprised of roughly 20 high school students who went around to churches and schools in the area and did various skits urging kids to wait until they were married to do the deed.

I did not partake in this group. Not only do I have incredible stage fright, but the thought of telling hundreds of kids to keep it in their pants did not appeal to me. At all.

But when this group did their little song and dance at a church, they would ask anyone who wanted to make a pledge of celibacy until marriage to come forward at the end of the program and grab a nail off a cross.

Being the sweet little church girl I was at 15 (read: my mom was sitting two rows behind me and I was scared not to take one), I collected a nail at the end of the program, vowing to keep my flower until my wedding night.

And to remind myself of this promise, I decided to carry the nail around in my leopard print wallet.

Needless to say, it served as the butt of a lot jokes from my guy friends.

My favorite: “So, Miss Procras., when you finally have sex, are you gonna carry around a screw?”

High school boys=comic geniuses.

Sadly, the zipper on my wallet broke and the nail was lost. Not long after that, so was my V-card.

Coincidence? I think not.

God was trying to tell me he was cool with it, I just know it.

I think my solemn virginity vow lasted a total of eight months, but I can’t exactly remember. I’ll save the story of how my V-card was lost for another day. I think I’ve divulged enough for one post.

Oh, and don’t worry; there are no nails, screws, nuts, bolts or other hardware (wow…why are all those things laden with such sexual innuendo?) being carried around in my wallet any longer.

Even Toolbags Need Love

2009-07-06T16:41:00.004-04:00

A ‘friend’ of mine got engaged over the weekend.

I say ‘friend’ because I wouldn’t consider Toolboy an actual friend. Here’s why:

-In college, Toolboy was having a get-together at his apartment and ran out of beer. So, my roommates and I graciously volunteered our stash of Natty Lites to keep the party going. Toolboy accompanied me back to my apartment to gather said beer. Only he didn’t just grab the Natty Lites, he also took the ONE Corona we had in the fridge. When I saw the Corona bottle shoved in his front pocket, I said, “Oh, that Corona is actually my roommate’s, don’t take that over – she’ll be pissed.” Toolboy claimed that he had brought it over from his place. I believed him – I mean, who would lie about ONE Corona? But the next day, my roommate couldn’t find her Corona and I immediately realized that Toolboy was a stealing, lying creep. When Lo found out, she goes, “honestly, who steals AH corona?!” To this day, it’s an ongoing joke between us and our roommate/bff Queen.

-Now that I think about it, Toolboy is a bit of a klepto. He also stole Lo’s bottle of 99 Berries and frozen Totino’s pizza from a pregame we had at our apartment not long after the Corona incident. Jerk. Doesn’t he know that alcohol/drunk food funds are scarce enough during college?!

-He finds the need to throw in his political beliefs into any conversation, facebook status/posting he can. Extremely annoying.

-He showed up to my 23rd birthday dinner without RSVPing, invited his girlfriend at the time, and then had the nerve to bash the people who came without letting me know beforehand. (Kinda reminds me of “Clueless” when she’s like, “But people came that, like, did not RSVP, so I was like, totally buggin’.” God, that movie is a classic.)

-He and his serious girlfriend broke up the end of last summer. He called/imed/texted me for days, about how upset he was and how he needed a good friend to talk to. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t aware I was in his ‘good friend’ category…I’d be interested to see how he treats people he considers enemies if he treats ‘good friends’ the way he’s treated me. But I listened, provided advice and tried to be there for him. I even went as his date to a co-worker’s wedding. After the wedding, we went to a bar where he proceeded to ditch me for the girl he is now engaged to. I knew like two other people at the bar besides him – one of whom was busy entertaining the 15 people he invited out and the other kept asking me to buy him shots. I opted to sit at the bar and watch SportsCenter highlights until a friend could pick me up. Five minutes after leaving, I got a text from Toolboy asking me if I left. That didn’t even warrant a response. And…delete.

-His ex-girlfriend (the one he called me crying over) is good friends with Queen, and Queen is married to one of Toolboy’s best friends. Anyway, ex-girlfriend was at Queen and her hub’s homecoming tailgate and Toolboy showed up with his new girlfriend/now fiancé and freaked out that he had to be around his ex. He then proceeded to yell at Queen and make her cry for allowing his ex to be there. Um…#1, why would he care if his new gf was there?! #2 –grow up and don’t make your best friend’s wife cry!

It’s funny…when I started this post, I forgot about half the shit Toolboy has pulled through the years. But, a la Celine Dion, “It’s all coming back, it’s all coming back to me now…”

My initial reaction when I heard the news: I laughed my ass off at the audacity of the situation. I mean, this dude sobbed to me for weeks about how broken-hearted he was over his ex girlfriend, then started dating this new girl and proposed to her within a span of nine months. I know things like this happen, but in his case, it seems highly unlikely. He’s a bit too self-absorbed.

So then, I started to feel sorry for his fiancé…I’m not sure if she knows what she’s getting herself into. But now, I’m relieved. One less douchebag for us to filter out of the masses, ladies!

Congrats on your engagement, Toolboy! And thanks for sparring the rest of us from your toolish antics.

At This Point, I Should Just Start My Own Moving Company...

2009-07-02T10:28:00.006-04:00

I'm changing my name. It's now Hal. I live in a blue jumpsuit with my name plastered on the front and claim to be buff but am really just huge from the gallons of beer and bags of pork rinds I've consumed in my lifetime.

Over the past few days, I have not only moved myself out of my old apartment and into my new one, but also helped The Hoff move into his new casa.

I haven’t even had a chance to unpack all my stuff yet. It’s overtaken the common area until I get around to organizing everything this weekend. And I will get it done this weekend. (In between drinking beer, eating cheeseburgers and watching fireworks, of course.)

I must say though, my lackadaisacalness was put to shame by The Hoff and his roommates.

Ever try helping a group of 24-year-old guys move out of one house and into another? God bless your soul if you have.

I got over to The Hoff’s around 7 last night. He had been moving/packing since 9 a.m. His roommates didn’t start until 1. Most of the furniture had been moved by the time I got there, but the entire kitchen still needed to be packed along with all the other miscellaneous knick-knacks still laying around the house. Luckily, three out of four guys had lady friends over to help them pack the breakables.

The most astonishing thing to me, though, is how much free stuff guys get when they move.

The Hoff and his roommates left one of those electronic basketball games you see in arcades, a t.v. and computer for the new guys moving in. Conversely, they gained a weight set and ping pong table from the guys who moved out of their new place.

Why would all these guys just give away their stuff like that? One word: Laziness

Can you imagine if girls did the same thing?

"Oh, I really don’t fee like moving my collection of Jimmy Choos, I’ll just leave them for the new girls moving in."

Or

"This Kate Spade luggage set is so heavy I just don’t think I can move it. I’m sure the new tenants will get good use out of it."

All I can say is, these boys are in for a rude awakening when they start living with girlfriends/wives. No way would a woman allow anything to be left behind.

And if you happen to think about it, say a little prayer/send good vibes to the poor maid cleaning their place today. Let’s just say the condition of that house is only marginially better than most frat houses. (And not all of that is The Hoff and his roommates’ fault. That place has seen better days. Like in 1975.)

Hope y'all have a fantabulous holiday weekend! If you don’t get to go see any fireworks, hope you make some of your own. Ow, ow. ;)

Who Knew Cleaning out your Closet Could Be So Depressing?

2009-06-25T17:42:00.004-04:00

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…

::gulp::

::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.

A Day of Monumental Events

2009-06-18T15:17:00.004-04:00

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.

The Quarter-Life Crisis is Setting in…Big Time

2009-06-16T16:33:00.008-04:00

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.

TGIF, bias!!

2009-06-12T16:13:00.005-04:00

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!

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

2009-06-10T13:47:00.005-04:00

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.

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

2009-06-04T09:10:00.009-04:00

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.)

Decisions, Decisions part 2

2009-06-03T16:31:00.005-04:00

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.

Decisions, Decisions

2009-05-27T16:48:00.005-04:00

Happy Birthday, The Hoff, you young buck!

The Hoff turns 24 today and is slightly freaked out. I keep telling him to shut his hole since I turn 25 in three weeks. I’m sure some of you who are reading this want both of us to shut our holes.

Anyway, moving on. Tonight, he’s obviously going out with a group of friends to celebrate, and he invited me along. Here’s the dilemma: it will be the first time I’ve seen any of his friends since our relationship hit the skids.

I’m more than a little nervous.

I feel like I’m the warthog about to enter a pride of lions. I’m just waiting to see who tears me apart first.

I thought about not going. I have birthday festivities planned for The Hoff on Saturday so I know we could celebrate then. But today is his actual birthday and I want to be there for it, as I’m assuming he wants me there since he invited me.

And today is his day. I need to put my shit aside as do his friends (if they have any issues with me still) and let him enjoy his day. Hopefully, we can all act like mature adults.

Just incase, I’m bringing along a friend as an ally/wingman/shield buddy. It’ll be nice to have some reinforcement incase things get terribly awkward.

I still wonder though, am I making the right decision?

Beach Bound

2009-05-22T16:02:00.006-04:00

Tomorrow, I’m heading down to the beach for a much-needed weekend of rest and relaxation. Just Jack’s parents have a kick-ass house that they are generous enough to let a big group of us use each Memorial Day weekend.

This self-proclaimed procrastinator has not had the pleasure of living up to her name in quite some time. I’m looking forward to whiling away the hours on the beach by working on my tan, starting in on my summer reading list and keeping a frosty beverage in my hands at all times.

The Hoff is coming with me. It will be the most time we’ve spent together in a few months, but I think it will be good for us to get away from D.C. and hang out in a different environment. We are still working things out, and it seems like our relationship is improving, but I won’t get into all that now.

The real test of this weekend will come tomorrow morning. I need to leave bright and early to avoid the horrendous beach traffic and arrive with ample time for sunbathing and day drinking. My goal is to leave at 6 a.m., but, as you all know, I have little problem doing anything in a timely fashion (drinking excluded).

So, I decided to throw a little contest. Whoever can come closest to my actual time of departure tomorrow morning will win a lovely beach souvenir. Just post your guess to the comments section no later than 11:59 p.m. EST Monday, May 25.

Hope you all have a relaxing, alcohol-filled Memorial Day weekend!

Blasts from the Pasts

2009-05-20T16:20:00.007-04:00

Living in a big city like D.C., one would think that the chances of running into an ex-fling unplanned are pretty slim to none.

Not in my life.

The past always find of creeping-or shoving-it's way back in.

Last Wednesday, I went out for drinks with an ex-boyfriend. I’ll call him Cougar Magnet. For some reason, women over the age of forty throw themselves at him. It’s pretty funny because though he relishes in the attention, he tends to date women his own age.

Quick back story on my relationship with Cougar Magnet: We were together for two years during college. Break-up was kinda ugly. Didn’t really talk to him much until recently when I ran into him in the foyer of my office building. Can we say random? Ever since then, we catch up every few months over drinks.

So, anyway, Cougar Magnet and I went to this overly crowded bar to watch the NHL playoffs. After finishing our beers, he went to the bar to buy us a second round and left me alone to guard our seats.

Not five minutes after he leaves, I look over and see another former fling, who shall be referred to as Ron Jeremy. Side note: He looks nothing like the real RJ, but he’s as sleazy as a porn star, so it works.

Anyway, when I saw him, I noticed him standing with an equally trashy-looking blonde. Not to do the whole, girl-hating thing, but she definitely looked like a cross between a playmate and a Rock of Love contestant. They started walking toward where I was sitting, so I (unsuccessfully) tried to hide my face by pretending to rummage for something in my purse.

Three reasons:
1) I popped a blood vessel in my eye last weekend and look like a freak.
2) I didn’t want to have to deal with the uncomfortable, yet obligatory introductions of his new gf.
3) As part of my “makeover,” I’ve decided to rid myself of any and all negative influences in my life – Ron Jeremy being one of them.

Here’s the 411 on Ron Jeremy: We had a purely physical relationship that lasted about two months last summer. One night, I agreed to meet him out at this bar that's always super crowded and always charges a cover fee. As I soon as I arrived, I texted him to let him know I was there, but he didn't respond.

So, I decided to do a quick walk-thru, on the off-chance I’d find him before he texted me back. Surprisingly, I spotted him right away and started walking towards him. As I got closer, I noticed he was talking to a girl and slowly began to realize what was going on.

The girl seductively brought her beer bottle to her lips as he leaned in and said, “I think you should give me your number.”

He was totally hitting on her- after he had texted me to come meet him!! How slimeball can you get?!

Frantically, I turned around and hightailed it to the front of the bar. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t about to leave after paying a $7 cover, but I didn’t want to stay, either. I started going through my phone and calling people on the off-chance they’d be at this bar or somewhere nearby so they could come save me.

No luck.

I called Just Jack to tell him what happened and ask him what I should do. He offerred to take a cab and come meet me, but I didn’t want him to have to do all that. I decided to just stay, grab a drink at the bar and hope that a cute boy talked to me.

In the middle of me explaining my plan of action to Just Jack, I saw the girl Ron Jeremy was hitting on leave the bar with her friends.

“20 bucks I get a text in the next 5 minutes,” I told Just Jack before hanging up the phone.

You can start calling me Miss Cleo because not two mintues later, before I could even get my first drink from the bar, I got a text from Ron.

“Hey, I’m by the bathroom. Where are you?”

A number of thoughts are ran through my head at this moment. Do I ignore him? Call him out? Slap him/pour my drink on him?

Regrettably, I chose none of the above. I texted him back and told him I’d meet him by the bathroom. It had been a couple of weeks since I saw him, so I gave him a half-ass hug, really wishing I had the balls (no pun intented) to kick him in the groin. We made awkward small-talk for a few minutes before migrating upstairs.

Ron made the weakest attempt at an apology I've ever heard of for not calling me the past two weeks.

Ron Jeremy: I’m sorry that I haven’t called you lately; I’ve been really busy with work and stuff.

Miss Procras. inner dialogue: Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Miss Procras.: I’ve been busy, too. You don’t have to apologize, it’s not like we’re dating or anything.

Ron Jeremy: No, but seriously, I’ve been traveling a lot.

Miss Procras.: If you really wanted to talk to me, you would have found the time to call.

Ron Jeremy: That’s true. It’s just really bad timing for me. I just got out of a long distance relationship and I’m not ready to jump back into anything.

Miss Procras. inner dialogue: More bullshit. Are you still trying to justify this to me? Get over yourself, dude. I’m not trying to date you.

Miss Procras.: Let’s face it, Ron, our relationship pretty much consists of sex and alcohol.

Ron Jeremy: Yeah, well, that’s not all I’m about. I mean, honestly, I don’t get many girls. I’m
usually the one my friends laugh at.

Miss Procras. inner dialogue: Is this dude for real? Does he really think I’m going to fall for this crap? If you have to justify yourself, you clearly have issues.

Miss Procras: (after downing my beer) Uh-huh, right.

I decided to just get drunk and enjoy the band…at least they were worth listening to.

Later on, Ron started talking about his parents.

Ron Jeremy: My parents are awesome, you’ll see when you meet them.

Miss Procras. inner dialogue: Is this seriously the same guy that used every excuse imaginable to tell me he didn’t like me enough to date me?

Miss Procras.: Um…I don’t think I’m going to meet your parents.

Ron Jeremy: Why not?

Miss Proras.: What are you going to do, introduce me to them as the girl you occasionally fuck?

...And guys say that girls are the confusing ones who can’t decide what they want.

I must say though, my life feels much better without having people like Ron in it. I knew the second time I hung out with him that I could never date him. (He boasted about being a trained fighter and told me I was on “his side of the bed.”)

Why I continued to hang out with him is beyond me. Maybe I liked what little attention I got from him. But he brought nothing positive to my life and it’s good to have him out of it.

I just wish I wouldn’t have to sporadically run into him and be reminded of that part of my life.