Oohhh. Shiny. Shimmery. Sticky icky icky!

Lip gloss—it’s a woman’s paradise.

And I’m pretty sure I have an extremely unhealthy obsession with it.

I’m always on the endless search for the perfect lip gloss—the right color, the right applicator, the right consistency—it’s a very fine-tuned, particular recipe. Anytime I’m at Target or Bartell’s, you better believe that I’m going to spend roughly an hour in the make-up aisles and walk out with at least three new lip glosses. All of which, I try on—one by one—as soon as I get back to my car. I’ll toss the new ones in my bag, which at any given time, you’ll be able to find six or more tubes of gloss.

“Do you have some chap stick I can borrow?” someone will ask.

“No, but I have lip gloss!” is always my reply. I mean, really, who wants to taste like a medicine cabinet anyway when you can taste like Cherry Cola Slide or Strawberry Melon Delight?!

I remember, once when I was in high school, I had a huge crush on a very sexy, outdoorsy type guy. One night we were at a party, sitting on the couch, while I rifled through my purse for a lip gloss I wanted.

“How many of those do you have in there?” he asked me.

I reached in, pulling them out one-by-one, and counted eight tubes.

I’ll never forget the look on his face. It was a mixture of appall, incredulousness, shock, pity and disgust. I think he truly thought I was completely crazy. I wonder if that had anything to do with him never giving it up to me…

Occasionally, I’ll have my absolute favorite that I’ll tote around with me for any given short period of time, but it’s only a matter of time before I’ve bought a new color or brand that I decide I like much more. When I find one that’s really great, I’m bound to tell at least two of my girlfriends about it. I’ll get really worked up and excited and say, “Oh my gosh. I just bought the best lip gloss EVER…”

I know you’ve heard it.

And my favorite Christmas present last year? Not my digital camera. Not the crock-pot I was dying to own. Oh no—the six pack of Juicy Tube lip glosses my Lancome make-up lady Aunt got me for free.

Have I painted a good picture of crazy yet?

So, I’ve always known that I’m teetering on an unhealthy level of lip gloss obsession. However, this morning it was even more apparent to me when I opened the drawer I keep—overflowing with at least 60 tubes—searching for a color that matched the sweater I was wearing to work. And what should I see? But at least three tubes I’ve had since early college, and even worse, high school. They all have nothing more than two or three more applications in them. But, I stopped using them and threw them in the drawer—never to use again—just because I couldn’t bear the thought of one of my favorites being gone and irreplaceable. Every time I think about throwing them away, I’ll whine to myself, “Oh, but I really like that color.” And there they’ll stay. So, I’ll probably keep the three-quarters-empty tubes forever and never use them. As long as, if I ever FEEL like wearing that color again, they’ll be there. Ah. What a comfort.

I’m one lip gloss away from crazy.

Currently Feeling: Like I might take a weekend away at my dad’s house—mmm, Country home-cooking, here I come.
Currently Anticipating: Oktoberfest in Leavenworth next week. Can’t wait!
Currently Watching: Season one of Ugly Betty. It’s fantastic!

ARGH!

I’M HAVING THE WORST DAY EVER.

MAAJAH CRAPPY.

Rarely do I feel like shit is raining down upon me, but this is just one of those moments. Work is crazy, money sucks and a few other things are bothering me. And of course, when a few things are bothering me, I obsess over them. This trifecta is causing me to act quite unlike myself. I’d like to think that for the most part, I have my stuff together. I generally deal with the bad, move forward and work to make sure I maintain a certain level of happiness—find what’s making you unhappy and fix it—a certain life mantra of mine, if you will.

But sometimes it’s just easier to admit it’s not going your way.

Sometimes it’s easier to admit that things are getting fixed quite as fast as you’d like them to.

Sometimes it’s okay to complain, bemuse, cry, moan and admit defeat.

It’s all about “growing as a person and accepting your defaults” or something, right? Isn’t that what Doctor Phil or Oprah would tell me?!

So, today I’m having a Quarter Life Crisis. It’s not the end of the world.

In fact, I’m sure it will all pass as soon as I win the lottery and buy a lifetime supply of Valium. Or soak for hours in Strawberry Creamsicle Delight bubble bath with a glass of champagne and read a 600-page book from cover to cover. Or meticulously clean my apartment from head-to-toe with a toothbrush and a mixture of Comet and vinegar. Or bake a double fudge brownie, triple-layer chocolate cake with cherries and cream cheese frosting, and then eat it, piece-by-piece, until there’s nothing left. Or move to a tropical island with Stella, two bathing suits and a lifetime supply of US Weekly magazines. Or double fist Cosmo’s with a bottle of champagne and a side of four packs of ciggies.

Ahh. All of those sound dreamy.

On a lighter note, I have a date tonight. Let’s hope I don’t project the completely frazzled and totally un-put-together person that I am right now.

Cause that’s just tacky.

Currently Feeling: Ridiculous.
Currently Anticipating: My 826 Seattle training session tonight for volunteering as a writing tutor to children.
Currently Loving: That I’ll finally get to see The Maldives again tonight. Anyone remember my previous post about them? I’ve been meaning to see them again ever since.

Here I Write Again, Not on My Own

I’ve been asked to take over a blog for the Seattle P.I., and of course, I’ve accepted. Am I crazy? I think so. Hopefully one of these days, all this blogging for free will lead to a paying gig. Sort of like one of my favorite professional bloggers, This Fish. In the meantime, I’ll exploit my life and my adventures for the simple satisfaction of writing. I’m that nerdy.

The topic? Dating of course. Really, I took up writing for Metroblogging Seattle because I consider myself a slight expert on the city and what’s going on in it. If the city is a slight area of expertise, then I most certainly could say that dating is. Actually, scratch that. I’m no expert, I’ve just done a lot of it, and so have a lot of my best girlfriends. Therefore, I’m bound to have a good story or two to share with the masses.

I came up with an angle that I think is going to be fun and quite entertaining—the 20-something vs. the 30-something. So, the previous blog author found me a 30-something who has commented quite a bit on her blog, and the three of us are meeting on Sunday to “pass the torch,” discuss content and logistics, etc. I’m excited to meet my new cohort, and possibly gain a new single girlfriend to stomp all over the city with.

Here we are. The 20-something vs. the 30-something:

I love that she sent in a photo with a drink in her hand, and so did I. My kind of gal. God knows, you need a lot of those to get through dating…

So, you’ve been warned. I will be writing about not only my dating life (which obviously needs to be kicked-up a notch, I’ve been lallygagging), but because I certainly don’t have anywhere near a date a week, I’ll be borrowing from some of your stories and adventures too, my dear friends. But don’t worry, I’ll create aliases. Your secrets will be safe with me.

Sort of.

Currently Feeling: Like my clothes are fitting slightly tighter. Dammit!
Currently Anticipating: Mmmm. Kickball. Tasty Treats.
Currently Loving: Fall. I hate the end of summer, but I love fall.

Departmental Fattening

I’m trying really, really hard to watch my carb and sugar intake. Blah, blah, blah. Story of my life. But really, I don’t want to look like a rolly polly stuffed sausage in my Halloween costume or my super slutty Heido-Ho, German Beer Maid costume that I’m sporting at Leavenworth’s Oktoberfest this year. So, this of course requires a little “back on track” thinking.

Like maybe I should stop eating Mac ‘n’ Cheese or Eggs Benedict for every meal on the weekends, drinking a case of beer on Fridays and Saturdays, helping myself to the candy bowl DIRECTLY behind my desk, three times a day. Or stop dreaming about Dick’s cheeseburgers and strawberry shakes. Or maybe teriyaki, or two soft tacos from Taco Bell. Or Spaghetti Vesuvius from the Old Spaghetti Factory. Or a big plate of cheesy enchiladas, chips and salsa, and a margarita from Jalisco’s.

Oh really, the list goes on.

They say the average person makes 200 food-related decisions a day.

So, here’s what would help me decide the good instead of the bad:

Stop bringing effing cookies and candy and treats and licorice and chocolate bars and Jelly Bellys, and fruit tortes and birthday cake and baby shower cake and marshmallow Peeps and blueberry pound cake and Oreo cream cakes and…

Not gonna lie. I just got up, mid-sentence, to go grab some Australian strawberry licorice that is sitting on the coffee stand before I finished the list.

… and Dove chocolate candies and brownies and butterscotch oatmeal cookies and mini Kit Kats and Twix.

(That was literally a list of everything that’s been available in my office in the last two weeks.)

My ass is going to grow to three times the size it is if you don’t stop. You damn coworkers.

Eight-hundred extra sugar-induced calories and eight hours sitting in a chair in front of a computer do not a sexy single 20-something make.

Currently Feeling: Pleasantly happy this week. Maybe I’m on mood elevators.
Currently Anticipating: Fremont Oktoberfest this weekend! My FAVORITE beer festival.
Currently Wondering: If I have the capacity to writer for ANOTHER blog. The topic that’s been presented to me? Dating. Go figure.

Which Came First?

Oh what I wouldn’t give to be the egg right now.

I think I’d give my arms, legs and all my body hair.

Currently Feeling: Hungry but my lunch sucks. Don’t you hate that? I wish I had a co-worker I could trade lunchboxes with.
Currently Anticipating: Stealing food from my parent’s house this weekend.
Currently Hating: That I can’t even afford Top Ramen this week.

It’s a Simple Story

While recently watching 90210, Brandan Walsh made a statement that seems so easy and too good to be true:

“It’s a simple story. Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. If girl gives boy half a chance, boy gets girl.”

Oh, how insightful art thou Mr. Walsh. I knew there was a reason I turned out the way I did after watching the show religiously since the age of 10. However, I seemed to have lost sight of a few things throughout my wild and crazy 20s. If only I could revert back to the days when all my dating know-how and information came from the elegant and rich teens from West Beverly High.

But I can’t, so tell me. Does the story work both ways? Is it just a simple story for girls?

If I meet boy. And I like boy. If the boy gives me half a chance, will I get boy?

Currently Feeling: Bizored in the hizouse.
Currently Anticipating: Um. Let me think… San Diego?
Currently Wondering: Why I’ve got to be on such a bad streak. God damn you Jesse-CO!