Everyone deserves one. Someone who you are proud to show off and (more importantly) someone who isn't completely embarrassed to be around you. Matt and I met at Culver's, and our first date was at Chipotle. I'm not too worried about embarrassing myself.
My good friend Courtney asked our guys to plan a double date, so (of course) they picked the trashiest bar around, Cowboy Jacks. You can throw peanut shells on the ground. Enough said. C and I went along with it. Upon arrival, the boys immediately started to plot how they would become trophy husbands while C and I brought home the bacon. Unfortunately for them, C and I will probably work with non-profits for the duration of our lives. Looks like someone else will have to get a job.
Apparently, Matt wants to be a PGA golfer. When he makes all his money through winning the masters, I get my turn at being the trophy.
Yeah, right.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Bare Necessities
My annual shopping trip follows my birthday and precedes my first day of my summer internship. This year my mission was to find a tailored skirt suit and blouse, so naturally I left with neither of these things. What I did find was Banana Republic's new summer line of tweed skirts and cardigans.
I didn't wear one of my new outfits to my first day of work, so I wouldn't look like I was ready for the first day of school. I wore it on day two (so much more grown up). My brown pencil skirt fits me like a glove, and with my new beige cardigan belted with a skinny metallic belt with floral decals, I looked like I walked straight out of page 9 in the catalog.
The drive to my internship is about 45-60 minutes in traffic. I don't mind the drive in the morning because it gives me time to charge up on coffee and listen to trashy news on my favorite morning show, so I don't peruse E!Online at work.
The drive home is another story. About 30 minutes into the drive and 6 Justin Bieber songs on the radio later, I have to listen to the public radio jazz station to avoid road rage.
So day two of my internship began like any other day until I felt a breeze. Stepping out of my car in my page 9 look, a sudden chill came over me...well, came over my ass. My skirt had ripped right down the zipper exposing my shelf butt to the world.
I work in a place where most people in the office work on hourly shifts. Getting to work a few minutes before the hour means a few more minutes for your daily dose of celeb gossip. "Am I moving in slow motion?," I asked myself as I looked around at the people sitting in their cars.
Why do car doors lock when you shut them nowadays? What if you're in a parking lot and your ass is hanging out and you need an escape route? One doesn't think to push the unlock button with one's keys. One just tries the handle over and over and over again.
Once safely inside my vehicle, I asked myself, "How do you tell your boss (on day two) that your ass pulled a Janet Jackson and needs to go home to redeem itself?" I made the call, left a near-to-tears message, and drove an hour to get home. I changed into pants from last year's shopping trip (not the same page 9 effect, but at that point I just wanted to avoid another peep show).
On my way back to the highway, I did something unthinkable. I stopped at McDonald's for a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. My guilty (okay incredibly guilty) pleasure I only delve into during bad moments. My new skirt ripped, I was going to be two and a half hours late for my internship, and I figured as long as I'm busting seams....
I can't make this stuff up.
I didn't wear one of my new outfits to my first day of work, so I wouldn't look like I was ready for the first day of school. I wore it on day two (so much more grown up). My brown pencil skirt fits me like a glove, and with my new beige cardigan belted with a skinny metallic belt with floral decals, I looked like I walked straight out of page 9 in the catalog.
The drive to my internship is about 45-60 minutes in traffic. I don't mind the drive in the morning because it gives me time to charge up on coffee and listen to trashy news on my favorite morning show, so I don't peruse E!Online at work.
The drive home is another story. About 30 minutes into the drive and 6 Justin Bieber songs on the radio later, I have to listen to the public radio jazz station to avoid road rage.
So day two of my internship began like any other day until I felt a breeze. Stepping out of my car in my page 9 look, a sudden chill came over me...well, came over my ass. My skirt had ripped right down the zipper exposing my shelf butt to the world.
I work in a place where most people in the office work on hourly shifts. Getting to work a few minutes before the hour means a few more minutes for your daily dose of celeb gossip. "Am I moving in slow motion?," I asked myself as I looked around at the people sitting in their cars.
Why do car doors lock when you shut them nowadays? What if you're in a parking lot and your ass is hanging out and you need an escape route? One doesn't think to push the unlock button with one's keys. One just tries the handle over and over and over again.
Once safely inside my vehicle, I asked myself, "How do you tell your boss (on day two) that your ass pulled a Janet Jackson and needs to go home to redeem itself?" I made the call, left a near-to-tears message, and drove an hour to get home. I changed into pants from last year's shopping trip (not the same page 9 effect, but at that point I just wanted to avoid another peep show).
On my way back to the highway, I did something unthinkable. I stopped at McDonald's for a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. My guilty (okay incredibly guilty) pleasure I only delve into during bad moments. My new skirt ripped, I was going to be two and a half hours late for my internship, and I figured as long as I'm busting seams....
I can't make this stuff up.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Growing Up
I was that little girl in the grocery store posing in front of the Stouffer's lasagna because I could see my reflection in the glass of the frozen foods section. That toddler at daycare coloring instead of napping with the other children because she'd rather be sharing her theories on Disney Princesses with the teachers than dreaming the day away, yeah that was me.
And despite the fact that I still put my chapstick on in the frozen foods section, call myself the first brown Disney princess (before that Princess and the Frog movie), and eat mac and cheese like it's a delicacy, I'm supposed to be a grown up. I started working when I was 13 as a receptionist for my father. The feel of new office supplies, desk organizers and day planners has become an obsession. My teens were spent working not to buy the next N'Sync album, but to climb the professional ladder, so I could start on top once I graduated. Turns out, there is no such thing as a professional ladder.
A public relations major with a minor in Spanish, a passion for unpaid work and an addiction to internships. I think I'll just be a professional volunteer.
And despite the fact that I still put my chapstick on in the frozen foods section, call myself the first brown Disney princess (before that Princess and the Frog movie), and eat mac and cheese like it's a delicacy, I'm supposed to be a grown up. I started working when I was 13 as a receptionist for my father. The feel of new office supplies, desk organizers and day planners has become an obsession. My teens were spent working not to buy the next N'Sync album, but to climb the professional ladder, so I could start on top once I graduated. Turns out, there is no such thing as a professional ladder.
A public relations major with a minor in Spanish, a passion for unpaid work and an addiction to internships. I think I'll just be a professional volunteer.
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