Find a new home. A new apartment, a new house, maybe a new city… No one is keeping me here but myself.
Pay off my credit cards. I just paid off my car, but my credit card debt is seriously cramping my style.
Find a new job. It’s been over four years since I took this internship as a “stepping stone” towards my dream job. Two promotions and seven interns later, I know I’ve reached my full potential here and exhausted my stay.
Conquer the elusive French macaron. I’m going to bake a perfect salted caramel macaron, and it will be glorious.
Try new things. The same old is getting old. I can’t remember the last time I did something for the first time.
Travel more. Go somewhere I’ve never been before for more than just a weekend.
Appreciate what I have. I’ll try not to lose any sleep over the nine couples I know getting married this year. Yes, I said nine.
Procrastinate less. If being stuck with no gas at Anthony’s during The Great Blackout of 2011 taught me anything, it’s that Anthony uses Aveeno Skin Brightening Daily Scrub. And that I shouldn’t wait until my gas light is on for two days before filling up.
Take better care of myself. Eat better, exercise more, get regular checkups. Losing my aunt to lung cancer last year coupled with my mom’s painful battle with pancreatitis def put my health in perspective.
Be more organized. My dad once told me that guys like girls who are more organized. I used to think it was just something that he said to get me to take the half empty bottled waters out of my car, but now I’m not so sure.
Go to more music festivals. Outside Lands in SF last year was amazeballs. There are so many other festivals… Coachella in Indio, Lollapalooza in Chicago, Bonnaroo in Tennessee, SXSW in Austin… Where should I go next? Who’s coming with me? And most importantly, which festivals will Young the Giant be at???
Since I didn’t instantly turn into a little old troll under a cave when the clock struck midnight on my 30th birthday, I abandoned my original plan to hide under my bed all weekend and celebrated instead:
Pink champagne to toast my dirtieth at work, courtesy of my boss
Pammie’s CMYK balloons made my little design nerd heart race
My old room at my parents’ house has become a storage space over the past couple of years. Instead of submitting it for consideration on an episode of Hoarders, I decided to spend the day cleaning it out.
Leg Magic Exercise Machine – I bought this in hopes that it would tone my stems, but much like my gym membership, it doesn’t work unless I use it. It’s just taking up space in the house, so I’ve posted it on Craigslist to make room for my expanding waistline.
After just one look at my blog, it’s obvious that I love food, bearded men, and the word “vagina” (in that order). I wanted to reveal some new facts about myself, so here’s the first of hopefully many “Fun Fact Friday” posts…
My favorite food is sandwiches. My favorite sandwich is the french dip. And my favorite french dip is from BJ’s. Om nom nom.
I’ve had a lip ring for most of my 20s. It was an impulse piercing that I’m indifferent about now, but I feel like the lip ring is less offensive than the hole that will be left in my face once I remove it.
I can blow some serious smoke rings. I don’t smoke cigarettes, but I used to smoke hookah like nobody’s business. We recently had a sesh in E’s backyard like old times, and five years later, I still got it ;)
My favorite ice is the pellet kind that they have at Phil’s and Sonic.
I woke up today smelling like baby lotion and Caress body wash with leftover dollar bills in my bra and a sudden urge to go to church. Here are some of the awesome things that happened at Chel’s bachelorette party last night in no particular order (other than most to least favorite):
Firefighter Tom from Alpine poured tequila down my shirt and did a body shot off my chest (among other things). Let it be known that I’m officially on the prowl for an east county white boy.
There was no shortage of penis-shaped food.
Preggo bartender Georja kept pumping out those test tube shots!
It was an 80s themed party and EVERYONE dressed up. Christine was my fave and looked just like my mom did in the 80s with her acid wash jean jacket and hairsprayed bangs.
The porno playing on TV throughout the whole night made it into the background of most of my photos.
I spent over $150 at the passion party. I don’t even spend that much on groceries! At least some of the products I bought were edible.
A lot of other things happened that I can’t mention—which is saying a lot considering I told you about that stripper licking tequila off my chest.
I found myself locked out of my house this afternoon. Bra-less.
It was my worst nightmare realized.
I went into the garage to get my bra in my car (don’t ask me why I thought it was in there), and I realized that I had locked the garage door behind me by habit. And then I realized that my bra wasn’t in my car. And then I realized that I was fucked.
I found the “I ♥ Haters” shirt Shi had given me in my trunk, so I threw that on. I knew that my bedroom window was open, but my room is on the second floor. I went into the backyard and scaled the fence like a ninja. I stood there for a few minutes staring at the gap between the roof I needed to jump on and the top of the fence where I stood. I just kept imagining myself lying on the ground with my legs broken… my “I ♥ Haters” shirt over my head, exposing me in all my bra-less glory while I waited for someone to help me. And so I decided to explore other options.
I went around the back and checked to see if I left the sliding door open after I let Rocky out. But of course, today was the one day I remembered to lock it. I didn’t think that the front window would be unlocked, since I never open it, but I checked it anyway, and it was! I took the screen door off, slid the window open and climbed inside. During all that commotion, Rocky just lay there on the couch staring at the wall. Useless!
Here’s what I’ve learned from this experience:
It’s a little too easy to break into my house.
Don’t take your bra off in your car.
Get a dog that will at least try to look alive when someone is potentially breaking into your house.