1. i need to move the blogness back to the main page, so that i can read as they are updated. i'm so behind on all of the blogs on that list. crap.
2. guessss whaaaat? my new jobby-job is biz casual. definitely gonna have fun with this - stay tuned.
Showing posts with label ijs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ijs. Show all posts
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
some things are just scary
for me - it's the jeggings trend.
really, we can add the whole leggings trend in with it.
i ask myself every time i mull over purchasing my first pair of leggings - "what's the big deal? EVERYONE wears them!"
here's the thing. i consider myself knowledgeable about fashion and trends and all that girly fun. i follow many. but i will NOT wear something just because it's splashed all over every fashion magazine on the stand. it's okay to not buy into every single trend that's out there - and that's my justification. i do, however, fear that i could easily go the way of "set in my ways" and be one of those self-proclaimed fashionistas sporting a fashion faux pas equivalent to rocking poofy permed bangs.
but...but...but...
i still want a pair of jeggings. let's face it, skinny jeans are amazing - the whole fitting in my boot without giving me poofy knee is priceless. jeggings can do this for me.
i definitely tried on a pair at target and promptly ripped them off, inside out, throwing them over the stall, fah-reaking out about how terribly unflattering they were on me. my thighs. my thiiiiiighs....are too big. too dimply. too celulite-y. too short. too bulbous. just too damn gross in them. it's upsetting.
damnit.
look at all these lovelies in jeggings ::
i personally love beyonce's look and would under normal circumstances compare our thighs (of course, on me take away all the defined muscle and throw in a dimple or two). she must be wearing some super special, expensive jeggings. they are fab. i'm not feeling fergie's pair or rihanna's (at all), but the rest are fun and not terribly scary - until i put them on.
who's rocking this trend right now? who can say "i live in my leggings/jeggings?" seriously. i want to know. and if you weigh under 120 lbs, no explanation is needed.
really, we can add the whole leggings trend in with it.
i ask myself every time i mull over purchasing my first pair of leggings - "what's the big deal? EVERYONE wears them!"
here's the thing. i consider myself knowledgeable about fashion and trends and all that girly fun. i follow many. but i will NOT wear something just because it's splashed all over every fashion magazine on the stand. it's okay to not buy into every single trend that's out there - and that's my justification. i do, however, fear that i could easily go the way of "set in my ways" and be one of those self-proclaimed fashionistas sporting a fashion faux pas equivalent to rocking poofy permed bangs.
but...but...but...
i still want a pair of jeggings. let's face it, skinny jeans are amazing - the whole fitting in my boot without giving me poofy knee is priceless. jeggings can do this for me.
i definitely tried on a pair at target and promptly ripped them off, inside out, throwing them over the stall, fah-reaking out about how terribly unflattering they were on me. my thighs. my thiiiiiighs....are too big. too dimply. too celulite-y. too short. too bulbous. just too damn gross in them. it's upsetting.
damnit.
look at all these lovelies in jeggings ::
i personally love beyonce's look and would under normal circumstances compare our thighs (of course, on me take away all the defined muscle and throw in a dimple or two). she must be wearing some super special, expensive jeggings. they are fab. i'm not feeling fergie's pair or rihanna's (at all), but the rest are fun and not terribly scary - until i put them on.
who's rocking this trend right now? who can say "i live in my leggings/jeggings?" seriously. i want to know. and if you weigh under 120 lbs, no explanation is needed.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
careful, or you'll end up in my blog
the husband and i have our tiffs like any other couple. usually, i choose not to share them with the blogosphere because they are private, of course. however, sometimes i have to share (not only that - i refuse to take this one lying down).
remember early in your relationship when everything you say goes and the guy will do pretty much anything to make you happy? while all this is happening, the married people in your life say things like "don't get used to it" or "that won't last long" and you look at them like they're speaking in japanese or worse, you secretly get kind of mad at them?
well, for those of you in new, shiny relationships, they are right. i am now one of those jaded married ladies whose husband no longer thinks the sun shines out of my ass. it's little things like cutting the grass, or cleaning up after himself that i've learned to live with. frankly, he's always been messy, and i knew this. that particular bitch holds little weight. the grass cutting is a current bitch that i've just decided to give up on as he'll eventually get around to it (yes, i could do it too, but i severely injured our last lawn mower after i ran over a sizeable decorative rock. i'm a little gunshy). but today's argument threw me over the edge.
i love my husband. i love my husband. i love my husband. but sometimes - he's five.
so, today i learned that our friend's engagement party is semi-formal. i thought semi-formal dress for a guy would call for a sport coat, slacks and a button up. i pictured the husband in his wonderful linen pants from banana, white button up and his navy sport coat. so, i texted him, and the conversation went like this (the itlacized sections are the reactions in my head)::
me :: friend's party is semi-formal.
husband :: damn. what does that mean?
me :: i think you should wear your linen pants, navy sport coat, no tie.
husband :: i'm not wearing a coat. not in 99 degree heat, sorry friend.
of course you're not. time to be difficult.
me :: you may need to wear your suit
husband :: bullshit
me :: babe. just for a bit then you can ditch the jacket. i've got it! wear your pinstripe suit with your black button up from other friend's wedding, no tie. then ditch your jacket early in the evening!
easy peasy!
husband :: i won't go if i have to wear anything resembling a coat. it's supposed to be 99, and i already spend too much of my summer sweating.
last time i checked you got a degree, from an institution in your field. you went to school, paid thousands of dollars to know you'd be working in the heat. get over it.
me :: it's SEMI FORMAL. you can't not wear a jacket.
husband :: jackets are not meant to be worn in the summer. i can't do it.
what? i see men in suits all day every day in my building. suit jackets are meant for times when you're supposed to wear a suit, and this is one of those times!!!!!!!!!!!!
me :: well, can you at least carry it? this should not be an issue. this is etiquette.
husband :: shit. this is an issue if someone plans a semi formal party in the middle of summer. etiquette is me being comfortable. i'm sorry but there is no way i should have to wear a suit in this heat. the only way i'd wear a suit is for a funeral, and if i wear a suit, it might be my funeral.
btw, etiquette is not about keeping mr. husband comfortable. it's about how you should act in situations, and frankly, you're kind of being rude.
me :: wear what you want. i'll be semi formal
husband :: does this make you mad?
i'm annoyed because you're acting like a child. plain and simple.
me :: i think it's ridiculous, but i'm not picking this battle. so, i'm not mad
husband :: why is it ridiculous? do you not understand how hot it is? would you wear a coat?
me :: i wear a blazer everyday.
that is what i was thinking...
husband :: in the heat?
me :: the party is inside. wear your black suit pants with your black nicole miller button up.
husband :: black attracts heat!!!
fine. go naked. we'll walk in separately.
***end of text string***
seriously? black attracts heat? i remember five years ago, i dressed that boy. everything he wore, i pretty much bought. then something clicked with him, and he started insisting on wearing sweaters from the year 2000 (like that disgusting burnt orange with stripes. think american eagle outfitters circa your highschool boyfriend).
i. can't. take. it.
another example of how this summer has robbed me of the man i love. the refusal to wear a suit jacket from the parking lot to the building is an argument a mother might have with her teenager. i'm completely annoyed.
this is an example of how you'll end up in my blog - if i feel like i will never have a child of my own because i already have one at home...in the form of a six-foot-one man.
**update :: now i feel kind of bad because i just got a text from him that he overheated today. he's going home and going to bed. the argument was still redic - my opinion isn't going to change on that.
remember early in your relationship when everything you say goes and the guy will do pretty much anything to make you happy? while all this is happening, the married people in your life say things like "don't get used to it" or "that won't last long" and you look at them like they're speaking in japanese or worse, you secretly get kind of mad at them?
well, for those of you in new, shiny relationships, they are right. i am now one of those jaded married ladies whose husband no longer thinks the sun shines out of my ass. it's little things like cutting the grass, or cleaning up after himself that i've learned to live with. frankly, he's always been messy, and i knew this. that particular bitch holds little weight. the grass cutting is a current bitch that i've just decided to give up on as he'll eventually get around to it (yes, i could do it too, but i severely injured our last lawn mower after i ran over a sizeable decorative rock. i'm a little gunshy). but today's argument threw me over the edge.
i love my husband. i love my husband. i love my husband. but sometimes - he's five.
so, today i learned that our friend's engagement party is semi-formal. i thought semi-formal dress for a guy would call for a sport coat, slacks and a button up. i pictured the husband in his wonderful linen pants from banana, white button up and his navy sport coat. so, i texted him, and the conversation went like this (the itlacized sections are the reactions in my head)::
me :: friend's party is semi-formal.
husband :: damn. what does that mean?
me :: i think you should wear your linen pants, navy sport coat, no tie.
husband :: i'm not wearing a coat. not in 99 degree heat, sorry friend.
of course you're not. time to be difficult.
me :: you may need to wear your suit
husband :: bullshit
me :: babe. just for a bit then you can ditch the jacket. i've got it! wear your pinstripe suit with your black button up from other friend's wedding, no tie. then ditch your jacket early in the evening!
easy peasy!
husband :: i won't go if i have to wear anything resembling a coat. it's supposed to be 99, and i already spend too much of my summer sweating.
last time i checked you got a degree, from an institution in your field. you went to school, paid thousands of dollars to know you'd be working in the heat. get over it.
me :: it's SEMI FORMAL. you can't not wear a jacket.
husband :: jackets are not meant to be worn in the summer. i can't do it.
what? i see men in suits all day every day in my building. suit jackets are meant for times when you're supposed to wear a suit, and this is one of those times!!!!!!!!!!!!
me :: well, can you at least carry it? this should not be an issue. this is etiquette.
husband :: shit. this is an issue if someone plans a semi formal party in the middle of summer. etiquette is me being comfortable. i'm sorry but there is no way i should have to wear a suit in this heat. the only way i'd wear a suit is for a funeral, and if i wear a suit, it might be my funeral.
btw, etiquette is not about keeping mr. husband comfortable. it's about how you should act in situations, and frankly, you're kind of being rude.
me :: wear what you want. i'll be semi formal
husband :: does this make you mad?
i'm annoyed because you're acting like a child. plain and simple.
me :: i think it's ridiculous, but i'm not picking this battle. so, i'm not mad
husband :: why is it ridiculous? do you not understand how hot it is? would you wear a coat?
me :: i wear a blazer everyday.
that is what i was thinking...
husband :: in the heat?
me :: the party is inside. wear your black suit pants with your black nicole miller button up.
husband :: black attracts heat!!!
fine. go naked. we'll walk in separately.
***end of text string***
seriously? black attracts heat? i remember five years ago, i dressed that boy. everything he wore, i pretty much bought. then something clicked with him, and he started insisting on wearing sweaters from the year 2000 (like that disgusting burnt orange with stripes. think american eagle outfitters circa your highschool boyfriend).
i. can't. take. it.
another example of how this summer has robbed me of the man i love. the refusal to wear a suit jacket from the parking lot to the building is an argument a mother might have with her teenager. i'm completely annoyed.
this is an example of how you'll end up in my blog - if i feel like i will never have a child of my own because i already have one at home...in the form of a six-foot-one man.
**update :: now i feel kind of bad because i just got a text from him that he overheated today. he's going home and going to bed. the argument was still redic - my opinion isn't going to change on that.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I now crown thee queen...chunk
that's right. chunk. remember when i said i was going to go on a diet called "stop eating so much"? well, i did, but it's apparently not working.
actually, i take that back because eating a small salad...drenched in green goddess dressing, no less...for lunch and mexican for dinner gets you nowhere but chunkier.
with our fridge being out (yes it's still out. the repairman came, but didn't have the part, which was confusing to me too. especially considering the issue was discovered on saturday and the repairman with the truck full of parts came yesterday because he's supposed to have the f*cking parts. but whatever. he didn't have it, so he rigged the fridge to work, but all of our food is at my grandmother's house keeping in her freezer.) the husband and i are eating out every night. sunday night we went to chilis and i ordered the margarita grilled chicken (i think that's the 500 calorie dish with the black beans, right?), but my stomach was eating a hole in my back because i hadn't eaten since my waffle that morning, so we also ordered chips and salsa and ate it like it was our last meal. last night we planned on having dinner out, but i was really thinking we could go somewhere where i could grab a salad, but everyone knows that salads at restaurants are like 1000 calories, so i caved when the husband said "let's just go grab mexican" because the mexican restaurant is the closest yummy establishment to our house. so we did, and instead of getting a taco or two, i got the f*cking chicken nachos drenched in queso (which there really wasn't enough queso if we're going to be picky - hello, chunk! - but i corked it because seriously? what is wrong with me?).
i begrudgingly took my ass (that is now eating the seat of the bike) to spin this morning. it was a real treat to watch my upper thigh jiggle as i sprinted for my life. stop the madness.
so, since the stupid refrigerator isn't fixed, i guess we'll be eating out again - and we have mexican dinner with friends on wednesday (this mexican restaurant is a small journey from our house, but their queso dip with crushed jalapenos is heaven on earth. i'll die chunky and happy before i ever pass on this particular queso. even the husband, who's violently lactose intolerant, can't say no.) i'm going to suggest to the husband that we just eat sandwiches. because seriously? and if he has a problem with that, he can go grab his own fried dinner because this is getting ridiculous. i clearly have zero self control when it comes to dinner outside of the house (sometimes even inside of the house - i told you my grandmother sent me home with a cake! balls!)
so until i pull it together, i'm going to proudly wear my crown. i love crowns. i hope this one's adorned with a golden donut. speaking of donuts.....
actually, i take that back because eating a small salad...drenched in green goddess dressing, no less...for lunch and mexican for dinner gets you nowhere but chunkier.
with our fridge being out (yes it's still out. the repairman came, but didn't have the part, which was confusing to me too. especially considering the issue was discovered on saturday and the repairman with the truck full of parts came yesterday because he's supposed to have the f*cking parts. but whatever. he didn't have it, so he rigged the fridge to work, but all of our food is at my grandmother's house keeping in her freezer.) the husband and i are eating out every night. sunday night we went to chilis and i ordered the margarita grilled chicken (i think that's the 500 calorie dish with the black beans, right?), but my stomach was eating a hole in my back because i hadn't eaten since my waffle that morning, so we also ordered chips and salsa and ate it like it was our last meal. last night we planned on having dinner out, but i was really thinking we could go somewhere where i could grab a salad, but everyone knows that salads at restaurants are like 1000 calories, so i caved when the husband said "let's just go grab mexican" because the mexican restaurant is the closest yummy establishment to our house. so we did, and instead of getting a taco or two, i got the f*cking chicken nachos drenched in queso (which there really wasn't enough queso if we're going to be picky - hello, chunk! - but i corked it because seriously? what is wrong with me?).
i begrudgingly took my ass (that is now eating the seat of the bike) to spin this morning. it was a real treat to watch my upper thigh jiggle as i sprinted for my life. stop the madness.
so, since the stupid refrigerator isn't fixed, i guess we'll be eating out again - and we have mexican dinner with friends on wednesday (this mexican restaurant is a small journey from our house, but their queso dip with crushed jalapenos is heaven on earth. i'll die chunky and happy before i ever pass on this particular queso. even the husband, who's violently lactose intolerant, can't say no.) i'm going to suggest to the husband that we just eat sandwiches. because seriously? and if he has a problem with that, he can go grab his own fried dinner because this is getting ridiculous. i clearly have zero self control when it comes to dinner outside of the house (sometimes even inside of the house - i told you my grandmother sent me home with a cake! balls!)
so until i pull it together, i'm going to proudly wear my crown. i love crowns. i hope this one's adorned with a golden donut. speaking of donuts.....
Friday, July 23, 2010
who gonna check me, boo?
i can't hide it. i'm totally heinous this week (except for tuesday - i was a big ball of sunshine on tuesday). overall, i've been in a really shitty mood, extremely sleepy, and just cranky all around.
this affects me in the following ways::
i wonder what i'll have to do today to make myself feel better? yesterday i booked a trip to the beach. if my mom read this blog, she'd say "a, don't plan to be a total bitch; take control of your mood and tell yourself to have a good day." w.h.a.t.e.v.e.r.
today, i think i'll treat myself to a mani/pedi and quick trip to sephora. then i'll go home and get rip roarin' drunk off a bottle of wine, read the secret, and watch mad men til i pass out. the makings of a great mood.
until then, i will cut you.
this affects me in the following ways::
- the husband gets pissed off at me because being heinous about everything kind of includes being heinous to him.
- i don't do my job well. i pretty much stay really distracted and annoyed and unproductive. i don't have one of those jobs where you can jimmy jack all day long - i kind of have to be productive to make money. i also have to use my totally dead brain. giant fail.
- i get really aggressive and bitchy to strangers making me come across as a total psycho. so not only does my husband want to leave my ass, but perfect strangers hate me too.
- my friends probably avoid me like the plague because all i do is complain. except when i talk to andrea, then i just laugh because she's hilarious.
i wonder what i'll have to do today to make myself feel better? yesterday i booked a trip to the beach. if my mom read this blog, she'd say "a, don't plan to be a total bitch; take control of your mood and tell yourself to have a good day." w.h.a.t.e.v.e.r.
today, i think i'll treat myself to a mani/pedi and quick trip to sephora. then i'll go home and get rip roarin' drunk off a bottle of wine, read the secret, and watch mad men til i pass out. the makings of a great mood.
until then, i will cut you.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
obscenity!
i don't mean to start this blog on a negative, bitchy note, but....
see, i used to work out, and before that, i didn't work out. the working out lasted roughly six months before it teetered off - yet again. i've decided to quit being lazy and get my ass back into the gym, which is exactly what i did this morning. i have a thing for spin class - if there is a muscly african american man teaching it, sign me up. spin must consist of hardcore rap music and ample upper body work for me to be happy. this morning it did; although the pushups were not as cool and graceful at 6 a.m. unforch.
this morning, a woman i'd seen before in my saturday spin class was in attendance. last time, i kept zoning in on her suprisingly jiggly butt completely encasing the seat - it's clear she's an expert - she has the shoes that snap onto the bike - i'm not judging. anyway, this time, she came in with a see through white tshirt, shorts, socks pulled up to her knees and a dark blue push up bra. i get it, smaller breasted women might think it's appropriate to just wear their bra to the gym as there may not be much movement.
i, on the other hand, was not blessed with smaller boobs, so mine are strapped in with a heavy duty nike fit bra that squeezes me down to what looks like a pancaked b-cup.
we were about 30 minutes in to straight sprints. she's on the front row right in front of our awesome teacher (who i may now prefer to the other dude, but it's up in the air), so i couldn't help but notice when her boobs were flopping all over the room and in the middle of her now soaking wet tshirt is her bright blue pushup bra.
what. the. eff?
it was obscene. it's a 5:45 class. it's not like she forgot to pack her sports bra in her gym bag, and whoops! she's forced to wear her very sexy push up. she woke up, put on her push up bra and came to spin. i suppose she could have been on a walk of shame of sorts, but if you've planned enough to pack your tshirt, shorts and knee socks, you've probably got time to think of the sports bra. i'm just sayin'.
see, i used to work out, and before that, i didn't work out. the working out lasted roughly six months before it teetered off - yet again. i've decided to quit being lazy and get my ass back into the gym, which is exactly what i did this morning. i have a thing for spin class - if there is a muscly african american man teaching it, sign me up. spin must consist of hardcore rap music and ample upper body work for me to be happy. this morning it did; although the pushups were not as cool and graceful at 6 a.m. unforch.
this morning, a woman i'd seen before in my saturday spin class was in attendance. last time, i kept zoning in on her suprisingly jiggly butt completely encasing the seat - it's clear she's an expert - she has the shoes that snap onto the bike - i'm not judging. anyway, this time, she came in with a see through white tshirt, shorts, socks pulled up to her knees and a dark blue push up bra. i get it, smaller breasted women might think it's appropriate to just wear their bra to the gym as there may not be much movement.
i, on the other hand, was not blessed with smaller boobs, so mine are strapped in with a heavy duty nike fit bra that squeezes me down to what looks like a pancaked b-cup.
we were about 30 minutes in to straight sprints. she's on the front row right in front of our awesome teacher (who i may now prefer to the other dude, but it's up in the air), so i couldn't help but notice when her boobs were flopping all over the room and in the middle of her now soaking wet tshirt is her bright blue pushup bra.
what. the. eff?
it was obscene. it's a 5:45 class. it's not like she forgot to pack her sports bra in her gym bag, and whoops! she's forced to wear her very sexy push up. she woke up, put on her push up bra and came to spin. i suppose she could have been on a walk of shame of sorts, but if you've planned enough to pack your tshirt, shorts and knee socks, you've probably got time to think of the sports bra. i'm just sayin'.
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