Brought to you by the letter W

For WOW. The Internet is full of such delightful gifts. Note: I like red shoes and PB&J sandwiches, but. Something went terribly wrong during the execution of these ideas.



I mean, these will only see the inside of the Playboy Mansion, yes? Real people don't wear red lace shoes.



A peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich. In a can. I can get behind chips in a can. (I'm looking at you, salt-and-vinegar Pringles.) But this? It's just weird.

I know some people will actually think these necklaces are bizarre, but I'm dying for one. I think you know which state. Awesome sauce.

My friends are enablers.

That's what I love about them.

Val's convinced I'm going to marry Hines Ward. So am I, so our little head game arrangement works out well. When I stalked visited Hines Ward's Atlanta house back in August, she totally supported me by taking a picture. Remember? Todd says I can be sure now that my photo is hanging in Hines's house—by the security cameras, snicker. But you gotta start somewhere.

Back on August 1, the start of my birthday month, I launched a campaign to seduce encourage Hines Ward (like a few other people in my life, I seem to be able to call him by full name only) to follow me on Twitter. I figured 23 days with which to work would give me plenty of time. I had friends join in the begging campaign. I told him I went to UGA when he was playing there, that I became a big Steelers fan after he was drafted, that this was my biggest birthday wish ever. And then, only six days in, it happened.


My joy rivaled that of someone who just won the lottery. (Though I'm still buying tickets in the hopes of one day having to test this theory in real life.)

(Although if I marry Hines Ward I'll be able to stop playing the lottery and focus instead on all of my diamonds and … more of my diamonds.)

Thanks to my friend Tempy, the below photo is my new FB profile picture.


Isn't it amazing? We are look so happy together.

Come to my rescue

Something happened to me today that, while not dramatic or life-threatening, still caused my friend to get angry on my behalf. And so she emailed this to me, along with a note that she was actually growling at that very moment. GRRRRRRR.



And that is why my friends (Hi, Amy!) are awesome. Happy weekend!

Friday Brain Dump

I know lots of bloggers who apologize for doing brain dump posts, but I kind of enjoy them. Probably because these types of posts are just bits of random, and I don't know a more random person on this planet than myself.

Roommate Val and I have been working on Project Pantry Clean-Out in anticipation of our expiring lease and upcoming move. We had fish tacos last weekend, worked through a Crock-Pot of taco soup this week, and, judging from the amount of tortillas we have in the cabinet, we'll be eating quesadillas most of next week. I think we're both dreading the day that we're down to canned pumpkin and peanut butter.

Someone on FB misread Val's post as Project Panty Clean-Out, and even though I am vehemently opposed to the use of the word "panty" (SHUDDER.), I think this may be something that needs to happen before The Great Move of 2012 too. Sorry for the TMI. I've scarred many a reader in the years since I started this blog. (Hi, Katie's Justin and this post.) (DO NOT READ THIS POST BOYS.)

Speaking of The Great Move of 2012—surprise!—I'm moving again. It's like my thing. Nine homes plus someone else's couch for a week in 11.5 years. One day I'm going to buy a house and live in it FOREVER. Anyway, moving on, Val is heading back to Florida mid-August for a job, and our lease is up May 31. Several friends offered me a place to stay for a couple weeks while I figured out where I wanted to go, and then suddenly, I had room-and-board lined up for close to four months. And then the same thing happened for Val through August, including a chance to housesit together for the last weeks she's here. I think I speak for both of us when I say we're nervous and excited and hopeful about our summers. I know it sounds crazy, but that just sort of fits right into my life. I'll be writing about My Gypsy Summer on a new blog, and I'll let you know when it's up and running.

The founder of Georgie Beauty came by work today to demo one of their new products—Winks, faux eyelashes that come in three distinct styles. Megan used No. 1 on me, called La Chèrie, which are the longest and most voluminous style. I feel ridiculous but in an awesome way.





I followed this with an afternoon hair cut and color touchup, so I'm feeling particularly Barbie-esque today, save for that whole perfect figure thing. Apologies in advance for all the eye-batting and hair-flipping I got going on today. I look, as one friend pointed out, like Nicki Minaj. Awesome.


GIFSoup

I'm going home to see this little guy this weekend, and I'm so excited I'm nearly giddy.



I'm very used to weekly time with two of my BFFs, and I haven't seen them in nearly two weeks. We've talked and G-chatted and texted and Hey Tell'd, but that's not the same as in person. Sydney misses you, Lorraine and Alice.



The Penguin Soda Maker I got for Christmas is pretty much the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. Thanks, Santa.

Tardy to the party (as usual) but currently digging two great OPI grays: Skull & Glossbones and French Quarter for Your Thoughts (below).



Also loving my Pop Phone. Go ahead and laugh all you want, but my yellow one makes me happy, and it makes multitasking while talking on an iPhone totally awesome.

Happy Weekend!

Doppelgänger?

So, the other day I stumbled upon a conversation two co-workers were having about celebrity lookalikes. And without hesitation, one of them looked at me and said, "Christina Applegate!" The other instantly agreed.

This was a first for me. And I'm not going to lie (Sidenote: What am I trying to do when I say this? Differentiate between all the other times when I falsify everything that comes out of my mouth? I have issues.), I was pleased. I mean, come on, Christina Applegate?



I think she's gorgeous. Wait. Did I just call myself gorgeous? How does this work? Am I allowed to agree that my celeb lookalike is pretty, or is that just total narcissism? I'M UNCLEAR ABOUT THE RULES HERE, PEOPLE. But it seems really rude to insult Christina just to make myself appear gracious.

No one ever accused me of not making sacrifices.

Then I started thinking about the day that Amy's bestseller is made into a movie. My friends and I have spent many a night sitting around drinking wine and discussing not really given much thought to which celebrities will play us in the blockbuster, but there are some obvious standouts: Sandra Bullock (Amy), Charlize Theron (Erin), Blake Shelton (Todd). (Just kidding, Vanilla Kitten!) (No I'm not, everyone else.) And Rebecca Romijn will play me. Not because we so much look alike, but because, "She's tall! And blonde!" says Amy. Hey, don't get me wrong. Rebecca is lovely. But after the Christina revelation, well, see for yourself.



I mean, right? This is working for me. Oh, and here's my casual look, you know, for running errands in Beverly Hills and such.



And that night I drifted off to sleep with glamorous images of me-as-Christina Applegate dancing in my head.

Until 3 a.m. when these not-glamorous images of me-as-Christina Applegate rudely cut in on my red carpet waltz.



OMG, you guys, this one? I've totally made that face before!



Am I "Married … With Children" Christina Applegate? SOMEONE TELL ME.

Today's assignment

Read this. I'll be back later with some thoughts of my own, but really, what's better than a post—anyone's post—full of Stabler? Nothing I can think of. You shouldn't try either.


Sweet Lord.

Oh, look, he knows my other boyfriend Bradley Cooper:



I'm going to deduct one-tenth of a point from Det. Stabler Christopher Meloni because he went to the University of Colorado in Boulder, and I kind of hate those buffalo jerks.

Rewind: Oh, St. Valentine. How I loathe LOVE you.

As my friend Lindsey taught me, Happy Wild Hearts Run Free Day, people! All of the original post below is still true, but today I've:

1. Gotten an awesome Valentine's Day goodie box from my parents (with gift cards! and new earrings! and marshmallows!).
2. Received a singing voicemail from Rob, which made me laugh so hard it sounded like I was having an asthma attack.
3. Been invited to an Un-Valentine's Day (one of the greatest made-up holidays ever) dinner at Amy's. She's making baked spaghetti casserole, and the quickest way to my heart is through pasta. If she doesn't duck fast enough, I may kiss her.
4. Eaten chocolates from a heart-shaped box, courtesy of Erin.
5. Opened a text message from this guy, who I miss like crazy!



So, you know, not bad for a Tuesday that happens to be February 14.

Originally published January 29, 2010:

At the risk of sounding like a bitter old hag, I'd like to confess that February 14 really annoys me. I'm no loveless, heartless chick or anything, but icky romantical stuff really creeps me out. I present Exhibit A.



"Surround her with the strength of your love." I mean, really? There are so many, many things wrong with this commercial. I have to watch with my hand in front of my eyes because it's like the part in a horror movie when things are about to go horribly wrong.

All the hoopla surrounding Valentine's Day just makes me gag too: crowded restaurants, prix fixe menus, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate. If a dude wants to make me swoon just take the $75 in the rose fund, hand me the cash, and drop me off at Sephora. I guarantee you'll get to second base later.

Oh, lighten up. I'm joking. I'm also a touch-me-not.

I do not, however, begrudge you if V-day is your most favorite holiday in all the 365 days of the year. I actually do like these delightful little love cards.




Get 'em here.

They're perfect. Sweet, not too mushy. No unnecessary prose inside. Just sign it with a "xo, Pooks." Or whatever. You don't even want me to start in on pet names.

*Mom, don't forget my Valentine's Day gifts. I don't see any good reason to get all crazy and turn down a care package.
**Just so y'all don't think I'm some sort of robot: I do enjoy a good chick flick, I'm fine with hugs from *most* people, I cry every time I watch "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," and I love a playlist that mixes Harry Connick, Jr., Michael Buble, Otis Redding, Al Green, and Marvin Gaye. I'm still a girl.

Saturday's alright for fighting … bad grammar

Forgive me. I'm delirious and missing football and they always play that song before games in Sanford Stadium. Anyway, for those who missed this amazing breakdown on FB, behold. This is cocktail small talk gold, my friends. At least it is for me and my dorky entourage.

Thank you for being a friend

What up, tricks? Happy Friday. I'm so glad the weekend is finally here. I don't have too much on my agenda except work and more work and maybe a little girl time Saturday night.

Which brings me to this. (Actually no, the above statements did not "bring me to this," but I've fully established on here that transitions? Not my thing.)

Sometimes when Every time Erin, Amy, and I hang out, our talk inevitably turns to "The Golden Girls" and our plans to one day live together in a house near the beach. This house will definitely have a lanai, whatever that is, because the lanai is where all serious and healing heart-to-hearts take place. Plus, we can hose down the floor if we spill our red wine. Lanais are tiled. I think.



This is how I imagine we'll look: totally amazing. These grannies just don't care what anyone thinks, and that's a goal my friends and I will have reached by age 75. Only I'm going to look 60 because Botox is my friend.

We don't really have a Sophia in our group, so I think we should hold auditions soon. Those with an aversion to cheesecake need not apply. Everyone knows you can't solve any world problems or old-lady dating woes if you're not eating cheesecake on that lanai. (Or, for those of you in my circle, cheese steak. From the cart outside Nana Funk's. Boom.)

(I found this picture online somewhere. I should really know where so I can give someone some credit, but, well—I don't so I can't.)