Hanky Panky

A personal – and extremely important – mantra I’ve tried to follow through my life is: Never run out of underwear or socks.

Because I only do laundry about once a month, sometimes even longer, this has led to a ridiculous amount of socks and underwear. Except, I just keep buying and buying, never purging through the outdated or worn-out ones. Which, in turn, has just allowed me to go even longer without doing laundry. It’s a vicious cycle, I tell yah.

Because I mostly wear heels, my socks tend to be in fair-to-good condition. But, some time this year, I realized that I have some SKANKY underwear that are just. not. appropriate. What if I were to fall down a flight a stairs, land in a sticker bush, and they had to snip off my pants to free me? OR here’s an applicable one – what if I woke up, in a nightie and skanky underwear, to a room full of firemen who just busted my apartment door down?

No bueno. One must be prepared, at a moment’s notice, to flash a cute pair of undies.

So, I started an Underwear Overhaul mission–I buy 20 pairs, I throw 20 pairs away, in shifts, until my entire SKANKY underwear collection is replaced with Come And Get Me Tiger underwear.

Except, I failed my mission in a major way. First off, I started and never finished. Secondly, I started to feel so CLEANSED from my anti-SKANKY underwear mission that I just kept throwing away and throwing away. Because of this, I’m short of underwear during my lengthy periods of not doing laundry, and recently I’ve been on a majah underwear shortage.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

This week, it’s got real bad. I failed to do laundry last weeked since lying on the couch, nursing my wine headache, seemed like a far better option. During the week I’m too lazy to do laundry after work, and even I were forced to in these desperate times, I don’t have quarters. So, for the first time in eight years, maybe NINE, I have to resort to my granny panties.*

And it’s been awful, just awful. All week, I’ve turned to the side on the escalator, scurried quickly ahead of someone in the hall and tugged on the back of my jacket, thinking that everyone behind me is staring at me because there’s a HUGE red neon sign on my back, blinking:

“PANTY LINES.”

“PANTY LINES.”

“PANTY LINES.”

I tell yah, I don’t know how women lived in the years before the thong was invented.

So tomorrow is payday, and I’m heading out to buy lots o’ new silky drawers. Cause that makes SO much more sense than doing laundry, natch.

*By granny, I don’t mean white or flowered. I just mean “full butt.” I am strictly a thong wearer. If you’ve seen my bubble butt in person, you understand why, in now way, am I interested in adding another layer of fabric under my pants. I stuck by my thong guns even when an ex kept begging and pleading for me to wear full butt underwear instead of thongs. Now THAT contradicted everything I was taught about boys up to age 18.

Currently Feeling: Like I’d rather just not face reality.
Currently Anticipating: The yearly pre-Turkey Day drunken festivities tomorrow.
Currently Loving: eRewards. I’ve earned $16 that I can redeem in Borders Bucks by just filling out the occasional, annoying survey!

Daily Tweet Babble: My Weekend

• 5:31 the term “stage five clinger” makes me laugh. #
• 5:49 Taking the bus out to Redmond. Not as bad as I thought it’d be. #
• 7:17 since when is bowling $30?! #
• 7:53 my BF is running around with a duck hat on and a kazoo. Don’t ask. #
• 10:08 a fire, an US Weekly and “Love Actually” = a great night in. #

• 10:39 lovin these gorgeous sunny and cold weekends. #
• 1:01 ‘s head is pound, pound, pounding. #
• 2:01 TV is the devil. #
• 5:21 heading to dinner on Alki with Noah #

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Currently Feeling: Super excited for Amanda and her new-found returning hussiness!
Currently Anticipating: Hopefully selling my big ticket item on Craiglist this evening, and getting some extra cash for the ole savings account.
Currently Wishing: That I could erase some memories and keep others.

Take one friend down, pass her around the bride circle

Back in July, I wrote about the engagement of one of my nearest and dearest friends, a Dolphin Sister. (Regular readers might remember it as the post I was ridiculed and shamed for using “OG Gangsta” incorrectly. Oh the agony. Oh the defeat.)

Flash forward four months and the lovely couple have now set a date for (ACK!) five months away in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Therefore, a few of the bridesmaids gathered this past weekend to do a little dress shopping (and wine guzzling, of course) since the time is a ticking to select a dress, have it altered, etc.

The evening consisted of a lovely sushi dinner at a hip little place in Wallingford, a lovely little wedding boutique that gave me sticker shock but made up for it with a lovely little glass of champagne, which helped to mask my “another one bites the dust” sentiment with “OH! Yippee! You’re getting mahwied!”

Four of the lovely (HOT!) bridesmaids – all high school and junior high besties.

FREE champagne! Whoop!

I made her try this one on as a joke. Always up to my devious ways.

Albeit expensive, the dress really were spectacular.

Oh, I can’t wait for you to get MAHWIED, Dolphin!

This is why I call my boyfriend a Fat Kid

The above is what’s currently in his freezer. Have you ever seen a more ridiculously disgusting display of junk food? In case you can’t make it out through the crappy, pixilated camera pic, that’s 1 Costco-size box of Eggos, 1 bag of “chicken fries,” (seriously?!), 1 bag of honey bbq chicken wings, 1 Tony’s pizza, 1 box of bacon wrapped scallops and 1 box of Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches. He actually eats this crap. I would give my first born child to have a male metabolism.
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Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick®

On the agenda for this weekend

• A quiet night tonight of bowling with my boyfriend after my busy week. Oh don’t you worry, I still plan to knock a couple brewskies back at the ole alley.
• Happy hour and wedding dress shopping with my Dolphin Sisters tomorrow. Yikes. This is really fun, but also super weird to me that one of my Dolphins is getting married. I’ll probably get all weird, teary and soggy on her and say, “Remember when we had teenage acne and used to eat nothing but fat free bean burritos because clearly we were FAT. Although that didn’t stop us from smoking doobies 24-7 and eating Fruit Loops! Weren’t those the days?!!”

Those are the only two things on the agenda right now, which is good since hopefully I can lock myself in a closet for the rest of the weekend and not spend any money. Since all it really takes for me to blow my whole bank account and all chances to not live in a cardboard box if I lost my job, is two drinks or a “sale.”

TGIF!
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Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick®

Gimme, gimme, gimme – Gimme some WINE and CHEESE

I had a ridiculously fun night last night.

An extravagant, Balinese Seattle socialite friend of mine, whom I’ll call W, hosted a wine and dinner party at his house in Maple Leaf, and I dragged my Hussy Bestie Amanda there with me. W knows nearly everyone in Seattle, I believe, and he’s always trying to fix his single, straight friends up, so I thought I’d help a sistah out.

When we pulled up to the street W lives on, two bottles of red wine and MapQuest directions in hand, I didn’t even have to check the address. With an extravagant, Balinese friend comes an extravagant, Balinese house. In a line of houses, it was the only one with Christmas lights in every tree, intricate fountains, Balinese statues in the yard, and huge plastic red hearts stuck in the surrounding flower beds. It was awesome. Amanda and I looked at each other and laughed, “That is SO W’s house.”

Waiting for us inside was a table of wine and cheese, two pots of spaghetti, a camera-happy and YouTube-obsessed host, and fantastic 20-somethings to mingle with. I don’t need to tell you how much wine I drank (not really sure if I even know how much wine I drank), but we eventually moved the party to The Little Red Hen for karaoke night. I vaguely remember jumping up and down, singing at the top of my lungs to an afro-wearing singer on the stage—who turned out to be an old high school friend when he took the wig off—and something red in a little shot glass. It was a little too crazy for a Wednesday night, but I kept telling myself, “Meh, you only live once.”

And in this one life I have, I plan to laugh and dance my little buns off, and drink wine until I turn violet, Violet.

Amanda and I are featured as back-up dancers in this video from last night:

Currently Feeling: Still giddy and high from all the laughter last night.
Currently Anticipating: Catching up on the shows I missed last night. Love DVR!
Currently Needing: A weekend in.

Chicken Noodle Soup of the Eastern kind

I’m not much of a cook.

Occasionally I’ll dabble with recipes, but most of the time I’m stuck in my no-time, starving-when-I-get-home, need-to-make-something-healthy-and-quick ways. Therefore, I eat a lot of Trader Joe’s minute brown rice, stir fry veggies and some sort of curry or masala sauce. For at least the past six months, Indian food has been my mainstay. (Thankfully, I’m coupled. I don’t know how well smelling like Indian food would come off if I were single).

But I try, I really do. I like to think that I’m on a VERY slow path of perfecting my cooking until I have children and a hubbie that I need to cook regularly for someday. Not every girl my age can be as talented as this one (heart-shaped French Onion soup, really?!), but I still like food. A lot. Which does lead to the occasional kitchen experiment.

The other day I was trolling around on the NaBloPoMo site, which features a blog every week, and I found Ezra Pound Cake. You will not find cooking blogs in my blogroll, but OH! The pictures! The recipes! They made my mouth water. I think this might officially be the first food blog I’ll put in my RSS.

So when Baby Daddy and I decided to walk to the store last night to get ingredients to make dinner, I immediately thought of the picture of Thai Chicken Noodle Soup that I had drooled over last week.

You can’t tell me that doesn’t look amazing…

And, just as I thought, it tasted totally amazing. (Thank you, Rebecca!) So, I figured I’d share it here via my dorky little pink recipe cards if you so care to print and try the recipe yourself. Let me know if you do!

Currently Feeling: Annoyed.
Currently Anticipating: Wine and snacks with Bri tonight.
Currently Hating: Stressing out over Christmas gift giving.

Daily Tweet Babble: My weekend

• 8:49 feeling a little off today. #
• 10:24 desk jobs make you FAT! #
• 4:54 grey is my new favorite color! #
• 6:35 listening to R&B, gettin’ it on music that’s blasting on the street while I’m waiting for my bus. How pleasant. #
• 8:14 catching the bus on a FRIDAY night to meet Amanda and a friend at The Matador. I’m so bus savvy now. #
• 10:08 Bartender, another glass of wine please. #
• 10:48 oh man. Do I have a story for you. Life never fails to amaze me #

• 12:32 listening to music and cleaning with the windows open – love the fresh air! #
• 4:29 just received bright pretty flowers and chocolate from my BF! #
• 7:31 working on some home improvement #
• 8:55 oh my gosh, what’s going to happen… #
• 9:00 sheesh. DH was INTENSE. #
• 10:28 the universe is giving me Eminem for my birthday. #

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Currently Feeling: Super nervous and anxious for my 1:1 today.
Currently Anticipating: A busy week with lots of fun plans with my girls!
Currently Loving: A return to my sassy haircut.

My glitter-loving self grows up

Yesterday I decided to drag my lazy wine-headached butt out of bed and head to The Glitter Sale with my roommate.

Since both of us live car-less in the city, it took us nearly an hour to bus to The Goodwill in South Seattle. We arrived to a line, snaking around the building. A middle-aged lady with worn Reeboks, tomato lipstick, and a diamond crown and earrings soon came walking down the line with a box of Krispie Kremes for those of us who were waiting. “Woo! You’re at the Glitter Sale!” she shouted down the line. “It won’t be long now ladies! Almost there! Want a donut?”

I stopped her and asked just how long, “it won’t be that long now” is.

Approximately an hour and a half wait.

I don’t know how I made it through it—my feet and back felt achy, and I had a headache and a hang over, but I was bound. and. determined. to see this Glitter Sale that I’d heard so much about (and read that women from out of state actually fly in for).

Here’s the problem. When someone mentioned the Glitter Sale as a once-a-year event that The Goodwill puts out their “name brand” stuff, they forgot to tell me that “name brand” stuff really meant name brands from the 80s and that Glitter Sale really meant GLITTER literally, not figuratively.

It was one freakin’ glitter puke all over every item in that room.

Even though I dug through racks of heavy glitter tops with shoulder pads, racks and racks of prom dresses and bins of junk that every other one had an owner who’d bombard me with, “THAT’S MINE,” and shoved my way through the throngs of older women in spandex, bathing suits or see-through tights because there aren’t any dressing rooms—I didn’t find really anything of worth to talk about.

I guess I can come to grips with the fact that I don’t love glitter and sparkle as much as I used to.

All the shows were metallics

All the clothes had glitter or sparkle

All the ladies were wearing spandex (do you love my Paparazzi shot)

Currently Feeling: Crazy that it’s been about a year now with my and Baby Daddy. Where has the time gone?!
Currently Anticipating: A little housework, errands and TV today to wind down my weekend.
Currently Loving: The bright pretty flowers the BF gave me.

20-Something gets her haircut: Dubliner Man Crush returns

Life is weird. It’s just plain weird.

Friday night I met up with my bestie, Amanda, and a mutual girl friend we had when we lived together in Fremont. The two of us haven’t seen her since that time approximately four years ago, so it was a bit of an exciting girl reunion.

After getting my haircut, I bused my way to Ballard to meet up with them at The Matador, which was insanely crowded—standing room only. We squeezed in at the bar, drank a couple glasses of wine, and then decided to move on down to a *hopefully* less-crowded bar—The Ballard Loft. Another couple glasses of wine there, and we were sufficiently buzzed. Our old girlfriend decided she had to venture home before things got too out of control (a good reason why I don’t live somewhere as far away as Lynnwood. Who wants to miss out on the chance to get recklessly out of control?!), and soon it was just the two of us in the bar.

Amanda decided it was time to mingle since she’s single and “just wants to feel the weight of a maaannn” on her. I sat awkwardly at the bar while she eyed and made a flirty comment to a tall, dark and handsome standing behind us. I glanced behind me to check her target out, and noticed that the short, dark and handsome standing next to her tall was non other than Dubliner Man Crush. And we caught eyes.

Fcuk. Fcuk. Fcuk.

That was an embarrassing and totally awkward little attempt at dating—and it’s never fun to be reminded about how you were completely rejected after shamelessly throwing yourself at someone. *Cringe.* Even if he did try to make up for the rejection later.

I tried to hiss the details to Amanda to explain how uncomfortable and mortified I was, but she was unfortunately unaware of the story since she was living in Canada at the time and only interested in flirty with the target. So, I did the only thing that seemed logical in my mind—I downed the last of my white wine, straightened my clothing, took a deep breath and repeated, “It’s not that bad, it’s not that bad,” and turned around to approach the group.

The whole interaction was pretty uneventful, albeit awkward—especially when his friend asked how we knew each other, and we kinda both nodded to “through a friend” and he said, “Uh, we sorta met cause we both used to get our haircut at the same place.”

And here’s the weird part—if you’re not familiar with the story, I kept running into this guy at my hair salon. I mean like totally weird run-ins. He was always there, getting his hair cut when I was. And then I wouldn’t make an appointment for three to six months, and the one day I decide to go in—there he is. At the time, I was convinced it was fate.

So why do I think life is so weird?

Because the last interaction I had with him was sometime last February, he moved to Texas for a couple months, and then the night I ran into him again, is the ONE night I got my haircut in nearly SIX months by the same stylist. It’s like all our life cords are attached or something.

Now if that isn’t totally bizarre, I don’t know what it.

Currently Feeling: Disappointed in The Glitter Sale.
Currently Anticipating: Date night at the 20-Something “The New Vintage” wine event tonight!
Currently Reading: “Fieldwork” by Mischa Berlinski.