You have a great aura, Part deux

A little while back, I wrote about auras, their colors, and how I’d ran across more than one person who’d commented on mine.

It happened again…has it become common practice to tell someone that they have a great aura? Maybe this is the new compliment of the 21st century.

When I was on my first date with Interested Reader, we wrapped up the end of the night at The Great Nabob with some of his friends. I was laughing and flirting and enjoying myself immensely. In the middle of a conversation with Interested Reader (Montana transplant) and one of his friends (Indiana transplant), I noticed that a guy at the table and a girl next to him were looking at me and nodding. It was clearly a “we’re talking about you” moment. These are always a little weird; but since we’re not in high school anymore, I don’t automatically assume that the conversation is negative. It still caused me to pause mid-sentence, and I looked at them and smiled. The guy leaned over the table and asked, “Are you from Seattle?”

“Yep. Born and raised,” I said. (For those who are Seattle transplants, I am more “from Seattle” than not even though I actually grew up outside the city.)

They looked at each other and nodded. “We thought so.”

I laughed. “Oh really, why’s that?”

“I don’t know. We’re both from Seattle, and you can just tell. You remind me a lot of my friends. The way you act… it’s like you have a great aura.”

I, of course, was pleased as punch that he said this in front of Interested Reader. It’s always a plus when you’re complimented on your ridiculously, ridiculously sparkling personality by a guy’s friend.

I just hope he thought so too…

Currently Feeling: Like I’d really enjoy winning the lottery right about now
Currently Anticipating: Happy hour tomorrow with Interested Reader and his friends
Currently Loving: The onset of the holidays—good food, parties and family

Thank you Baby Jesus, I’m so glad this is not me…

This week’s Drunk of the Week from The Stranger:

Found at a party, hand in toilet, with the following items: a pillow, some sunglasses, bunny ears, an American flag, another bottle of beer, one unused condom and a magazine to read when she woke up.

Good God.

Currently Feeling: Nervous energy
Currently Anticipating: Caitlin coming home and Jana and Luke’s engagement party on Sunday
Currently Hating and Loving: Dating

An open-ended letter to Winter

Dear Winter,

I’m not going to mince words; I’ve never really liked you. Your frigidness really irks me. I also don’t like your dark and dreary attitude every night I get off work, and I especially find it hard to do the things I like to do in your presence, ie: sunbathing, boating, rollerblading and other outdoor activities. I much prefer your counterparts, Summer, Spring and Fall. But, I’m trying to make the best of every situation as I grow and change into a more mature 20-something. So, I’m learning to not hold grudges and see the best in those I don’t understand. That is why I’d like to tell you that I’ve recently discovered two things I really like about you, Winter:

—Being able to wear all those ridiculous matching sweat suits I bought 14 of when J-Lo made them popular. (Mint green, chocolate brown, hot pink, light pink, grey…) While I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them in public now, I still feel cozy, comfortable and cute when I put them on at home.

—Allowing myself a short Sugar-Free Irish Cream Breve because it’s cold outside. It’s my absolutely favorite sinful coffee drink, ridiculously delicious, and it just makes me feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside.

Looking forward to forging a better friendship together,
20-Something

It doesn’t get much better than this…

I am still spinning from my date on Saturday. I can’t quite act all squishy and excited on my dating blog because I know he’s reading (considering that’s how he contacted me), so I’ll share the details here.

For those of you not up-to-speed, I received an email from an interested reader who had spotted my profile on The Stranger’s Lovelab, discovered I wrote for Metroblogging Seattle, then was friends with the girl who previously wrote the dating blog I just took over, so he noticed when I started writing for that too. He sent me an email, asking me out (with his profile attached, natch), and I accepted for Saturday.

From his pictures, I could tell he was at least a little cute. But, I was not nearly prepared for just how damn cute he was going to be. When I walked into Oliver’s Twist on Saturday at 8 p.m., I could have just died and gone to heaven. My whole “super suave, not nervous at all” attitude went right out the window. Cute boys make my knees weak.

Interested Reader is tall, with a fantastic body, cute clothes, brown hair and sexy nerdy/”I’m an intellectual” glasses. He is a physical therapist with a graduate school degree, a Portland/Montana transplant, a reader of books, a liberal, an agnostic, a listener of KEXP, a player of sports (including kickball !!), and as passionate and level-headed as can be.

From the moment we started talking at Oliver’s Twist, (over two drinks, the blue cheese-stuffed dates and tomato cappuccino with grilled cheese, thanks Jenny), we did not have a moment’s lull in the conversation. We continued to the 74th Street Ale House, then onto The Great Nabob to meet a couple of his friends. We even continued our one-on-one conversation while sitting at the table with his friends, eventually resting our knees against each other (yes, I noticed), and engaging in a little flirty elbowing/other innocent contact.

By the end of the date, I was more than eager to throw my “no kisses on the first date” thing out the window. All I could think about was, “Make-out city, U.S.A!” He asked me to his car to listen to a band he kept talking to me about, which I of course accepted. There, I managed to snag a completely awkward first date kiss before I thanked him for the wonderful evening, and bid him goodbye.

I guess the great-date feeling was mutual, because I woke up Sunday morning to an email in my inbox from him. He sent me a silly inside joke ecard, and wrote:

Ha! I hope this card is as funny to you as it is to me after 5 hours of sleep. I had a great time last night with you. Definitely, looking forward to seeing you again! Have a Great Day, E

I have to admit. I CANNOT WAIT to hear back from him. Perhaps it’s super premature, but I think we’ve got something here…

Currently Feeling: Busy and content.
Currently Anticipating: The return email or phone call.
Currently Hating: Juggling.

Astrology report says, "Things are looking up"

If life has its ups and downs, then today is definitely an up.

I’m incredibly tired and hung over, but for some reason, I woke up smiling. Perhaps it’s because all the riff raff has died down a little bit.

Or perhaps it’s because I…

…Bought a fantastic new pair of jeans yesterday that make my butt look great
…Had a really great time out in the city last night and reconnected with some old high school acquaintances who just moved to my neighborhood
…Have free tickets to the Pyramid Get Snowed In SnowCap party tonight, which I’m quite looking forward to
…Have a fantastic date planned for Saturday at Oliver’s Twist in Greenwood with a really cute, educated and eloquent boy
…Woke up to sunshine and a little snappy song on the radio
…Am glad it’s Friday

I think it actually might be a combination of it all.
Enjoy your weekend.

Currently Feeling: Naptime.
Currently Anticipating: Naptime.
Currently Loving: Naptime.

Save those tears for someone who counts

At volunteering on Monday, I sat at a table with a group of junior high girls who I had met the previous week. Two of them were working on self-portraits for an art class, and so I helped them with different drawing and tracing techniques while I created a bookmark for myself out of markers and construction paper. (I knew this graphic design minor would pay off someday.)

That pesky Baby Bash biography girl from last week was sitting across the table from me, writing a letter. (Turns out, she was lying about the report. She just wanted to listen to the music instead of doing homework. Snatchdragon!) After a few comments from the girls at the table, I caught on to what they were talking about.

“Are you writing a love letter?” I asked.

“Yeah! Her boyfriend is moving to New York! She’s been crying all day!” said one of the little bossy, loud girls that I find absolutely adorable.

I quickly peeked at what it said, and saw:

Dear My Boo,

Why are you moving to New York? Why aren’t you staying here with me?

The irony of it was too much. Here I am, fielding boy problems in my life and my friends’, and writing a dating blog for the newspaper. When I attempt to step outside the box in my life, you know…do something for the better good, further the future of America…I’m still dealing with relationship issues.

I just wanted to wrap her up in my arms of hindsight and tell her:

“Oh honey. This guy is only one in a long line of many. Someday, you won’t be able to even remember his name. And my goodness, save those tears for someone who counts.”

Currently Feeling: Buyer’s remorse for my new Sidekick Slide
Currently Anticipating: Beers and Pyramid and the soccer game with Vaness and Sarah
Currently Loving: That I can check my MySpace at work now through my phone. Ha Ha…suckers!

Coping with Fashion

I feel pretty today.

I gave myself a manicure and pedicure last night in a pretty coral pink. I put a sexy, flouncy black pencil skirt on this morning, a silky flower top and my favorite tall black Guess boots. To top it off, I added my favorite butterfly earrings and the best berry shade of lip-gloss that I own.

I needed to feel pretty—personal relationships and friendships are melting to the ground around me. A couple of my friendships are hurting in deep, personal ways; a Dolphin Sister just broke up with the man she thought she was going to marry; my roommate is hurting from another friend’s betrayal; a girl friend of mine just found out her best friend slept with the guy my friend’s been on and off dating for months; and my sister is being ousted from her social circle by a group of Mean Girls.

So in the middle of all this emotional turmoil that I’ve found myself to be at the hub of lately, I’m just going to stand here and feel pretty.

Cause it’s the only thing making me feel good right now.

Currently Feeling: Like I need a good vacation.
Currently Anticipating: Seeing American Gangster at the Big Picture tonight.
Currently Loving: Vanessa. My heart goes out to her.

Fluffy Yummy Sugary Sweet Obsession

*I wrote this blog approximately two years ago, and it was posted on my MySpace page. I finally decided it was time to delete all the old posts. But, this one was just too good to get rid of. So, here it is again, almost exactly two years later, unedited. (Even though I feel my writing has evolved and progressed since then.) Still same ole 20-Something. Still love marshmallows!

Now that I’m 23, almost 24, and reaching all new heights of self-realization as I approach an older age, I’ve come to the conclusion that I have an unhealthy obsession with marshmallows. This is not something to be taken lightheartedly. It could quite possibly be compared to the addiction some people have with taking diet pills or, perhaps, smoking. See, I can’t just eat a substance containing marshmallows and stop there. I have to shove more and more of the said substance into my mouth until I myself am playing my own version of Chubby Bunny with whatever I’m eating that contains marshmallows. Or, one could call it chain-marshmallowing. Let me elaborate a little bit on my history of marshmallow abuse.

I guess it all started with roasting marshmallows. I’ve gone camping every year since before I was old enough to remember. Of course, roasting marshmallows was THE highlight of my camping trip. And I’m not talking about eating Smores; I hate those things. I simply wanted to roast and eat an entire bag of marshmallows to myself. I can distinctly remember the first time my dad roasted a marshmallow for me over a burning barrel on my grandparents’ property. I was around 6 years old. See, my dad’s side of the family is a little bit country, and burning things in a barrel on your property I suppose is somewhat normal. Now that I think back on the moment, the fact that he was probably burning garbage in that barrel and then roasting my marshmallows over it is a bit weird. But anyway, back to my first marshmallow.

My dad was describing to me the whole time about the proper ways to roast a marshmallow. Turn the stick; don’t let it catch fire; blow it out quickly if it does. That’s the proper way, right? No, my dad taught me that they’re best when they are charbroiled and black. A bit weird, perhaps. So my dad finishes “roasting” my marshmallow and tells me to take a bite out of it. I leaned forward, resting my fingers on the stick and drew it toward my mouth. The marshmallow exploded in my mouth in a poof of black, charred, ashes. Let’s just say my dad had over-roasted the marshmallow a bit. But that did not ruin my first marshmallow experience, maybe it only made it stronger. They say everything traces back to some childhood experience. I will say that charbroiling my marshmallows the way my dad did is the only way I roast them, and now when I go on camping trips, I am constantly ridiculed for the way I roast marshmallows. Thanks dad.

It moved on to roasting marshmallows over the kitchen stove. See, I could only go camping in the summer, and since I live in Seattle, that is only four months out of the year when I can roast marshmallows. Too bad I don’t live in the country, then I could just roast them over a burning barrel of garbage. But, alas, I have to result to roasting them over the burner in my house. This method is actually quite effective if you turn the burner up to the highest setting and have a bunch of those little wooden shish kabob sticks.

And from there, it has only gotten worse. I eat Peeps by the package. It used to be that you could only find them during Easter. But now, they make Peeps for every occasion. Yeah for me. They’ve even started flavoring them. My favorite is the strawberries and cream Valentines Day ones. Of course, much like my charbroiled roasting method, I’ve created a psychotic method to eating marshmallow Peeps as well. I have to open the package and let them sit out for AT LEAST two weeks, so they get nice and stale. Then I eat them. God, are they good. I always go to drug stores after holidays and stock up on them when they are 39 cents so I can have enough until the next holiday comes around.

So, name anything that has marshmallows in it, and I eat it with excess. Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream? The best! But only because I actually dig the marshmallow ribbon out of it until all that is left is chocolate ice cream. Sweet potatoes at Thanksgiving? So good! But I scoop as many marshmallows off the top as I can without looking like a jerk, then I’m sure to go back at least once to add more marshmallows before the yams are gone. Hot chocolate? Only good with loads and loads of the damn little white things. I’m not kidding, I will heat my hot chocolate, add marshmallows, drink it down part way while consuming all the marshmallows, add more marshmallows, reheat it, drink a little etc. You see how this is going. And I’m probably the only person who actually knows what a Fluffmutter sandwich is. Sounds a little erotic, huh? Guess again. It’s a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich. I f*ing love marshmallow fluff. It is the ultimate marshmallow invention. I WILL and DO buy a jar and eat it straight out with a spoon. I think that is where I finally realized that I have a MAJOR and IRREVERSIBLE problem.

Now that I’ve come out of the closet about my marshmallow obsession, I will tell you what spurred my self-analyzation. They have now invented Marshmallow Microwave Popcorn. And I am doomed. I saw a commercial for it on TV, and thought to myself, “Hmm. That might be kinda good.” Keep in mind that I HATE popcorn. I never buy the stuff. I think it’s foul, smelly, nasty, insert every gross adjective you can think of here. I never buy it at a movie, and if I walk into a room after popcorn has been popping, I almost want to barf. But, if it has marshmallow on it, how bad can it be? Well, let me just tell you IT’S F*ING AMAZING. I want to eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The only problem is, one damn package has approximately 700 calories and 42 grams of fat. I’m not kidding. Isn’t that worse than a Big Mac?

In conclusion, if you see me walking around in five years, fat as all hell, a little bit squishy in all areas, and probably resembling somewhat of a round, puffy marshmallow myself, (Hell, I am pretty pale and my skin could probably give off a whitish glow), then you’ll know why.

I, 20-Something, am a marshmallow addict.