Sunday, 24 October 2010

I'm not one of those salad-eater girls.

There are several important phases you go through as a woman and it seems the one I am now entering is the salad-eating phase. I've noticed that over the last few years more and more of my friends are ordering salads at dinner. I watch with befuddlement as they spend their precious pennies on feeble leafy greens. As my charming friend Holli so eloquently facebook statused: "You can't get full off salad."
It seems, however, that women of a certain age are socialized to think you can. Take Showers, for example. If you took a poll of every shower (baby, wedding, whatever) that has occurred in the last millennium, I am willing to stake my firstborn that three counterfeit food groups have been offered for consumption:
1-fruit
2-quiche
3-SALAD
("Salad" as a category technically encompasses anything from jello to potato, but i'm gonna stick with green for the purpose of this argument. Don't even get me started on quiche.)

The Shower, what I consider the essence of womanhood, consists of a bunch of ladies getting together eating a 'light' meal. Guys. Why are we doing this to ourselves? I am so fine admitting I eat normal stuff. Maybe it's just my last denial of adulthood, thinking I can eat real food and it won't affect me. Ughh. I've thought about what it would be like to utter the sentence: "I'll just have a salad, thank you. Dressing on the side." I'm just not sure I posses the willpower.

I remember one time being on a date with a guy who mentioned how he liked girls who ate real food and didn't just order a salad. BEST NEWS EVER! Of course I'm planning our wedding as I assure him I am not one of those fake girls, and order a steak or some other calorie-laden food.
He never called me again.

Here's the thing though, my lettuce aversion really isn't my fault, it's Zupa's. Yes, yes, I know you think I'm above it but at one (low) point at my life I was indeed a SALAD MASTER. This title is real, and I possessed it. I worked my tail off studying for the S.M. test.
"Let's see, Nuts About Berries has 6 cranberries, 4 strawberries, 3.5 blueberries and a child's fistful of candied almonds."
That was just the written portion.
The practical portion involved me whipping up all twelve salads in twelve minutes as my boss in vegetable pants looked on. Good thing Ratatouille was in my hat. (jk about that last part)
Can you blame me though? Now that you know my past?

I'd heard all these rumors about salads in fact having more fat than something like a cheeseburger and didn't believe it. I mean it just doesn't seem possible. So I looked it up. Namely CPK's Thai Crunch Salad. If you like this salad, or ever plan on eating it again, please do not read the statement below.
That pig in sheep's clothing has 35.9 grams of fat per serving. The serving size is half a salad.
Suckas!!!!!
Really though, I am deeply sorry to learn the truth as I myself have fallen victim to this salad. Never again though! Maybe.
I'm thinking the moral of the story is...eat carbs and be merry, for they taste better than plants.

Thursday, 21 October 2010

THIS JUST IN!



I was just informed by my fashionable friend SLOANE that regrowth is in.
Whaaaat??
My wallet has never been so happy, my hairstylist has never been so sad, I've never been so confused and the RECESSION HAS NEVER BEEN SO GOOD TO US!

Wednesday, 13 October 2010

twachelors


I'm no Twitter expert. In fact sometimes I find myself tweeting 7 times in one day and then 7 times the whole next month. It's definitely a love/hate thing and I think the general public finds it frankly quite mystifying or simply pointless.
Butttt....
I have recently become aware of something quite alarming.
I do believe that the award for having the most followers for the stupidest reason goes to:
EVERY PERSON WHO'S EVER BEEN ON THE BACHELOR(ETTE).
(i know, i know i talk about this show a lot. i have no dignity.)
My first find was when my friend tweeted @ALIFEDOTOWSKY. Background pic is (what else?) she and Roberto hand in hand.

I mean...I guess I'm bitter that I had to earn my 162 followers by tweeting witty bits of 140 character goodness while she just gives @deannapappas and @designerjillian shoutouts about their next fashion show and has 55,580!!! Ugh.



( looks like being a 'helpless romantic' has done wonders for her television personality career)

I guess I thought it took some level of accomplishment or sophistication to garner over 30,000 followers. I mean, I hate to break it to you Ali, but falling in love with Roberto was in reality not that difficult of a task. In fact BILLIONS of girls did the same thing at home without even putting on makeup. Not to mention that one dress you wore that had the rhinestone choker.

Seriously though once you find one of these ex-bachelors in the twittersphere you can hansel and gretel your way to every other single one. Ever. They're like real, live, social network narcissist bffs!

One of my favorite finds was Tenley.


Curse the day my love life becomes part of my twitterbio! Bless her heart tho.
How presh are she and kip? I'm not even being completely sarcastic about this. So much niceness in one couple it's insane. But...

I won't say anything.

I feel sorry for people who have nothing better to do than this...



I guess incessantly blogging about the bachelor to prove you don't like it could fit under the same category. Dang it.

Just one more thing and i'm done. Brad Womack? Really?

Monday, 11 October 2010

happy birthday, you two.


Should I be embarrassed that every October 11th I get nostalgic for these girls?
Pretty sure I still remember their handshake.
Pretty sure in 1998 Ellery modeled one of her outfits exactly after one of theirs.
Pretty sure they're in jail.

Thursday, 7 October 2010

top bunk

I am the mistress of the top bunk.
I wish I could say it was because I had some character-building childhood where I always had to share a room and had since developed a love for this particular sleeping arrangement. No, instead I waited until I was an adult and could pay for the chance to sleep at a higher altitude.

It all started my sophomore year when Betsy and I moved into this awesome place called Chandelle. We had this orphan room, seriously standing room only. So we thought long and hard--what would make it so we both could fit in here?
BUNK BEDS!

I thought I'd heard the top one was the better end of the deal, so I dibsed that real quick. I was smart too, cause the foot and a half of space between her mattress and mine was impossible to access without pulling a catherine-zeta-jones-in-entrapment move. Being the feisty individual that she is, Bets called her dad to come put dowels in between our beds. Good news for her, HEAD ON THE CEILING FOR ME. I literally could not sit on my bed without getting scoliosis. In order to get up there I had to fetch the hardware ladder out of my parents' garage and stick it in our room. Every time I climbed up, the whole structure shook so badly she either yelled at me in her sleep or woke up altogether.
The next semester we forced Brie and Ker to switch us rooms. They took the bunk beds apart. There was plenty of space in that stupid room.

Since then I have come to dominate the top bunk, in various locations all over the world. From New York, to London, to Paris, to Scotland, to right here in our very own Provo, Utah, I have graced it with my sleepy presence. All I can do is express my gratitude for the stellar bunkmates who have gotten me through these times.

In its defense, there's something adrenaline inducing about ninja climbing my way up to the top bunk while the roommate is asleep. I also find it strangely charming to be awakened with a jolt of gravity as I tumble down every morning. Life on the top has been good to me and I do believe I've grown rather attached to it. In fact, I'm not sure when it could possibly come to an end. Someone reminded me that maybe it will happen when i'm married? Maybe he'll have to deal with it.