Monthly Archives: September 2010

Boy + Girl + Blogging + Chicago + Frizzy Hair = BlogDate

Posted on by
69

Listen. I’ve already paused the Roseanne marathon. I’ve canceled my plans to work out with Jo, the unofficial roommate. And I’m trying to set down my caramel apple spice long enough to type this, but considering it tastes like Christmas morning exploded in my mouth, I can’t make any promises.

Why am I going to such extremes, you ask? Or didn’t. I’m just assuming that you’re an engaged reader.

Wait, did someone say engaged? Cus I almost got claustrophobic.

So why am I climbing the highest peaks, crossing the deepest valleys and trudging through the murkiest swamps to write this post today? Because I heard through the grapevine that I went on a BlogDate in Chicago last week, and you are dying to hear all about it!  If that isn’t true, then I blame the women of the world. Blasted gossipers.

So how did this alleged BlogDate even come about? Everyone take a seat on the mat, I feel a coming-of-age story coming on!

Alright, boys and girls. Someday when you get older, and you have a blog of your own, you will start to get comments. Once in a while, you might notice a particularly witty comment that grabs your specific attention. You will then set out on a journey to explore that commentor’s blog. Don’t rush this -it will just come naturally, when the time is right. When you’ve met the right blog, you will find it to be equally as entertaining as the comments were, which will come as a pleasant surprise on some rainy Tuesday. I’m not going to set unrealistic expectations, but butterflies are a possibility.

At some point you will begin to wonder if this person has an actual face. One of you will harmlessly stalk the other and find them via a social networking site. In the event they do not have a social networking site, nor do they have a bio picture on their blog, it is safe to say that your BlogDate will never happen.

Should you both happen to not be repulsed by the sight of one another, you will start blowing up eachother’s Facebook pages. Then, in a random twist of fate, one of you will come up with a ridiculous excuse to give out your digits. [ In my case it was: “This might be my number. If you text me something that makes me laugh, I might introduce you to Oprah.”  A couple hours later I received this text: “I am sending this from my diamond encrusted pager.” ]

And before you know it, a boy from New York is on a plane to Chicago to go on a BlogDate with you.

Make sense?

Now, as awesome as this may seem, there comes a point where you finally come to grips with what you’re actually doing. For me, that moment came while I was on the train to Chicago. I will demonstrate my thought process with you in the following storyboard:

1. This wasn’t a thought process, but it was the largest Sangria I’ve ever seen. Luckily, Uncorked met up with me for some of these before I went to the airport.

2. WTF do my nails look purple in this light?! I swear, they looked black in my house! Why do I insist on living in an environment with no natural light? What am I a BAT?

3. Really? You could die today.

4. Eh, if I’m gonna die, at least it was in the name of journalism. Maybe Geraldo Rivera can do a reading at my funeral.

5. Way to burn your forehead with the curling iron this morning. Typical.

6. Family emergency so I can’t make it? Food poisoning? My hip locked up and I can’t walk? There was a bio-nuclear attack on the rail system? These all sound legit to me.

So we met. After twenty minutes I realized I wasn’t lying in a garbage bag in the back of a trunk, so my nerves let up a little bit. We went to Second City, which is a must for any visitor, followed by drinks at one of my favorite places. The next day, Chicago tried to break a record for hottest/most humid day in September ever. After sweating off a few pounds, we decided to find an indoor activity: The Art Institute of Chicago. BlogBoyfriend did his best impression of my favorite tortured artist, Van Gogh. They exchanged pleasantries and tried to one-up each other on who was more of a tortured artist. Blah, blah. I told them it’s all fun and games till someone loses an ear.

Careful, don’t laugh. DON’T!  Then I got him some real pizza. None of this anorexic, Kate Moss crap that New York likes to think is pizza.

All in all, I had as great of a time as you can possibly have with a complete stranger that you thought might want to kill you. But, he didn’t. In fact, he made me a mixtape. You may wonder, why oh why are there no pictures of you? Or the two of you? Well, I will now use my extensive Salvation Army Barbie collection to answer your question. Guys, Salvation Army. Expecting them to be clothed is asking a lot. And frankly, snobbish.

So surely, you understand.

But, when I visit New York, my hair will cooperate, I won’t burn my forehead, it won’t be a 100 degrees, I won’t have a panic attack, I won’t receive very bad news that morning, and there will be pictures! 

Go forth, risk your life, and get your BlogDate on.

 

Blog Dating Is The New Black/ eHarmony/ Twitter/ SpeedDate/ Facebook Poke

Posted on by
80

No. This time I didn’t do anything drastic like move to London or start a retail store or give up tanning. But, I did meet up with a complete stranger from New York for a two-day BlogDate in Chicago, which I may have mentioned one, or fifty times, on my FaceSpace. I had to make sure I mentioned it regularly in case one of you had to work or something and missed a status update.

Now I know you’re all waiting with baited breath for the details of this excursion, and I assure you, they are coming at you faster than a chubby, asthmatic kid chasing after an ice cream cart.

 

 

Remember When You Hated Me, But You Were Lying To Yourself?

Posted on by
32

“Out beyond the ideas of rightdoing and wrongdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there.” – Rumi

So, okay. We’re in the field, you and me. Now, I want you to take a moment. Sit down. Relax. Close your eyes. Clear your mind and try not to ponder the great mysteries of the world such as: “why, WHY can’t Rose just SHARE THE RAFT?” or “why did ever we need encased meats?” Just let it go. And please remember, in the field, there is no right or wrong. We cannot recall the mistakes of others. There are cupcakes falling from the sky along with pink glittery things. We are full of inner love and positive thinking.

Okay, you are now free to leave the field.

I just thought that exercise might help us in curbing any misdirected anger you might have toward me lately for my lack of internet presence. I realize it seems like I don’t do anything around here, but kiddos, mama has been sweatin’ like a Mexican housekeeper. I can say that. I went to school with a girl who was Mexican.

So what have I been up to, you ask?

Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve spruced up the place. My blog layout was SO last year. Now you may think to yourself, eh, a simple blog redesign no. big. deal. But guess what, when you’ve been hacked and your crap is all jacked, and your database needs to be updated, and your feeds won’t work, and your hosting provider doesn’t speak English, and you hate dealing with website stuff more than you hate cheerful people before 10 am, and then when you finally do switch over to your new design none of your pictures transfer over – it is A BIG EFFING DEAL. Needless to say, the homepage posts are fixed, but I’ve got about 200 more to re-upload pics to. So if you look at older posts they might look weird FYI. Good thing none of you ever do.

Oh, I also transferred my blogroll to a new page called For The Wandering Eye, and I even wrote little love notes about your blogs (if I’ve forgotten you, please send a strongly worded email). And I’ve revamped my About and New Here pages with fun new pictures like this:

And remember how I’ve had my photography blog up for like a year but no actual website, cus I really like to eat pasta and sleep alot?? Yea, well, the Indigo Photography website is officially launched!

Wait, I know there was something else…. Oh that’s right! I am going on the world’s first BlogDate.

What is a BlogDate? Well, it’s when two people of similar backgrounds and personalities start innocently flirting over blog comments and then realize they’re soulmates except they’ve never met. Or, it’s two people who are just spontaneous and ridiculous and like to have fun. Jury’s still out. So Monday I head to the Windy City where my witty and handsome New York Blogboyfriend will be awaiting me. He did a little preview of our meeting on his blog also, if you wanna check yourself before you wreck yourself. And don’t you worry, I’m going to blow THE INTERNETS up with pictures and stories from this experience! And yes, I’ll be paying you all a long-overdue visit very soon!

There. That’s what I’ve been up to. Are you satisfied now or are you still gonna cop a ‘tude?

P. to the S. I must take this moment to send the biggest shout out of my LIFE to Jen and Cheryl from CaffeinatedDesigns. These girls are geniuses. I was pulling my ever-loving hair out and they found a way to sort out every computer problem I had – and I only needed two boxes of wine to get through it!

Follow me on FaceSpace or Twitter to keep updated!

Dear Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred Workout DVD,

Posted on by
23

Two weeks ago, you entered my home with all of the optimism of Christmas morning.

But lately, I feel like we’re at odds. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but the other night your eyes looked a bit more angry than normal. And I sensed a hinge of animosity in your voice as I was doing my side lunges (with weights, of course, cus the big muscles don’t burn enough calories on their own).

Oh, I’ve been listening.

And I know if I asked you, you would say nothing is wrong. But do to my extensive experience with complicated relationships, I think we both know that’s not the case. So in attempt to salvage what we have left, I feel the need to explain to you what might seem like a lack of commitment on my part.

jillian-michaels-30-day-shredDAY 1: Jo and I did the workout, sans weights. We fell to the floor laughing when you said, “People tell you ‘Just take the stairs’ but that is a FALSE MESSAGE OF LETHARGY that won’t do you any favors!” We then had a glass of wine, watched Grey’s Anatomy and talked about how we wanted to die.

DAY 2: Jo and I did the workout. I used the weights except I only had 5 lb ones instead of the recommended 2 lb ones. We made fun of your eyebrows a little bit.

DAYS 3-5: I lost the ability to use my arms. So did Jo, which confused both of us, considering she didn’t use weights. We decided it best to take a few days off, as not to cause further injury. We’re still waiting on our health insurance from Obama.

DAY 6: Jo and I regained feeling in our arms, so we worked out. She walked in with 2 cans of baked beans in lieu of weights. I marveled at her genius, and found 2 cans of my own to use, however, they were re-fried beans. All was well, except for the fact that I forgot to wear a sports bra.

DAYS 7-9: Due to some intense crying, I figured it best not to workout in such a dehydrated state. Jo figured it best to empathize with me on the couch. She’s a good friend.

DAY 10: My head was still aching, but Jo was determined to workout. I sat on the couch with my laptop. Then, I grabbed a box of Snickers ice cream from the freezer and just watched her, cus man, it was funny. Afterward, when Jo got up to go to the bathroom, her legs gave out on her and she did a face plant into my floor. She said, and I quote: “That’s how you know the workout is working.”

DAYS 11-14: Thought about working out. A lot. But it’s the holidays, so our absence is 100% LEGIT.

I hope this clears things up as I do hope to maintain at the very least, a friendship.

XOXO,

Blunt.

P.S. New blog design coming this week, plus a bunch of other random announcements that you won’t care about!!

The September Of My Years [OR] Screw You January

Posted on by
21

[Warning: introspection ahead. So, maybe there are a few things I’ve failed to mention over the past year. So, maybe I’m mentioning them now.]

Seriously, screw January. And all of its dreary, pretend optimism.

Here’s the deal: New Years happens in January is because it gives people a shred of hope amid what seems to be an eternal, bleak panorama of frozen tundra and dead things. Or at least that’s the consensus from behind my Midwestern ice-glazed window and $200 gas bill.

Well guess what world? I don’t buy it, and I refuse to accept New Years as my fresh start.

It’s all about September.

Everything good happens in the fall, thus, I’ve decided so should my clean slate. And no, I’m not trying to get a head start on all of your fresh starts. When people begin losing in Monopoly, I conveniently forget to collect their rent cus I feel bad for them. So I assure you, I lack the competitive edge to one-up you on your new beginnings.

When I think back on this past year, I sort of want to curl up in a fetal position. But then, I remember I did a lot of that already…  plus I’m not as flexible as I used to be. A couple months ago, I came to the point where I felt like I had nothing of worth, no direction, and I had screwed up my life beyond repair. Know what I mean?

Since this blog contains only 20% of what happens in my life, you may not know it has been a very pivotal year. I bet you’re thinking that now is when I’m going to start listing off the things that made it so pivotal. In truth, I was about to warm up some spaghetti, but I guess I could take one for the team.

Pivotal moments this year:

I broke off my engagement to the man I thought I would marry the instant he shook my hand. My best friend Kenny moved to California. I went through an almost clinical level depression. My family experienced great challenges. Financial stress, career changes. I caused tremendous hurt to some pretty incredible people. I took some risks that did not pay off. I’ve been paralyzed by Regret.

And Regret, coupled with its slightly better-looking twin sister, Guilt, can ruin your life. It’s like a ghost that lays dormant for years, and then all the sudden goes all ape-shit crazy. So how do you get past it? How do you recover?

First step: I took the summer off of dating to sort myself out.

P.S. Boys, sorry but you do not = drama-free.

Second step: self-reflection. That = no fun. I needed perspective. I cried until my eyes didn’t resemble themselves, wrote some letters, started a collection of over-the-counter sleeping pills, sought a lot of advice, freaked out, emptied several boxes of wine, forgave others, learned to forgive myself, started working with elderly people, started working out, cut off toxic people, went to see Eat Pray Love by myself (sad or awesome?), and spent many lonely nights thinking about my life, my past, and what I really wanted.

Cus if you haven’t got peace of mind, you’ve got nothing.

So, at the start of a new season, what have I got?

Hope. This has been a painful year of growth, arriving with the crappiest of timing. I am happy it is done and I move on with a better knowledge of myself, what I want, and who I want. Belief. I have never doubted the existence of a higher power; but, for a very long time I have ignored what that means for my life. That time has ended. Also, as shocking as it may be, I now believe that two people can exist happily together. Yes, for life. Friends. I have the kind of friends who drive an hour to my house to bring me a Kleenex. Friends who extend their hand in kindness, even after I’ve hurt them. Friends who exist only through written words, yet seem to get me completely. Friends who stay over, just in case. Oh, and Kenny moved back. Work. I have a job, which fell from the sky on a snowy day in January, that allows me to be creative and impact people’s lives. I guess I owe January a high-five for that. Family. When it comes to them, words aren’t good enough. Health. Or so I assume. I have been avoiding doctors for a few years now and aside from the mysterious lump on my rib, the locking hip, and the pain in my chest when I lay down, I feel great! And, finally, Peace. I’ve accepted that life cannot exist without regret.

So, that’s what I’ve got. And world, it’s pretty freaking fabulous.

Cheers to the 800th season of Grey’s Anatomy, falling in love, wearing scarves, figuring shit out, and most importantly – a New Year,

Blunt.