Friday, February 29, 2008

embarrassing fact #3

I am obsessed with American grocery stores. Okay, I realize that sounds a little weird but hear me out. Grocery stores within walking distance from my apartment in Montreal a)are  overpriced, b)have nasty produce, c) have really poor selection, and d) have teeny tiny narrow aisles that nearly cause me have panic attacks. You would think that grocery stores in the downtown area of a metropolitan city would be classy and full of gourmet delicious things but you would be wrong. Which is why, whenever I'm home, I revel in the Kroger of a nearby neighborhood (my parents live in the country). Case in point: tonight after going to the gym I stopped there because I was crazily craving pineapple and Fuze (they're these juice things and I'm not pregnant, I swear) and walked out with: Honey Bunches of Oats, a Pineapple, two Fuzes, organic strawberry applesauce, southbeach protein bars (the peanut butter kind? amazing) and dvd rental of the first disc of "Tell Me You Love Me," for $12! GOD BLESS THE USA.

sweet tooth

Attention World: I have a huge mother effing sweet tooth. My friends who have eaten a meal with me in real life are reading this and throwing their heads back in huge guffaws over what an understatement that is. Fact: yesterday I had two (2) handfuls of semi-sweet chocolate chips, four (4) ghirardelli brownies, and approximately twelve (baker's dozen) oreos. Oh, and a huge handful of those swedish fish gummy things. It was seriously disgusting. That's a heavy sweets day even for me. I went to bed nauseous, woke up with a mind numbingly painful migraine, scarfed down an imitrex and two naproxens, and slept until 1:30, at which point I decided it was totally acceptable to have four more oreos. Could I BE any grosser? Fact: absolutely not. This is why when I'm at school I do not, under any circumstances allow myself to buy box cookies (oreos, chips ahoy, those pepperidge farm things); I consider them to be a challenge (as in, I wonder if I can eat this entire box in one sitting...) and end up with huge tummy aches and no schoolwork done. Why? Why can't I consider those bags of baby carrots to be the same kind of challenge?

Thursday, February 28, 2008

and everyone is gonna dress like me

I didn't realize what a nuisance "Bravo Canada" was until I realized that I've been missing out on "Make Me a Supermodel." I mean, I watch a lot of crappy television but I consider this to be a pretty valid obsession because, hello, HOW hot are Ben and Perry? It's borderline painful the level of gorgeousness. Plus, Ben is southern, which I find nearly impossible to resist anyways. Alright, back to the couch!


Ebay. Ferragamo. $29 including shipping.
How funky fresh is that?

why the woman who cuts my hair is hilarious

  1. She was referred to me by my best friend, whose hair she's been cutting since birth, but refuses to believe me that we are in fact friends. Case in point, she'll say "She just got back from the beach with her friends," and I'll have to say, "yeah I know, that was me?"
  2. I always love my haircut when she does it but the initial styling is out of control. Last night the bangs were super Courtney Cox during those first couple of seasons from friends.
  3. Last night she spent the better part of 20 minutes describing a boy she wants to hook me up with, whom I know for a fact is gay. Lovely!

Tuesday, February 26, 2008


I'm watching tv in my parent's loft living room and there a huge window with a shudder (not my parent's design choice, the shudder is a beast that I think they don't know what to do with), which is gently thudding against the house when the wind blows. SO CREEPY. 

something has got to be done

about the crazy shrinkage in fashion. I'm not talking about what happens when brooding italian male models get in a pool, or you accidentally put you favorite comfy black Michael Kors tunic in the dryer, no, I'm talking about how ridiculously small designers think the human body is supposed to be. Case in point:
ATTENTION WHATEVER FASHION HOUSE SPAWNED THIS: Cameron Diaz is tiny. She's tall but probably 100 lbs soaking wet. As a result there is absolutely NO reason why the seams across her booty should be PUCKERING. Or her back should be rolling over the top. I mean, come on friends. The only reason that this dress should look so tight on her (while at the same time being so sloppy, who knew that was even possible?) is if it was accidentally designed for a "My Sized Barbie," (if unfamiliar please check out the year 1996) and someone on her stylist's team thought that meant Ms. Diaz (which seems like a legitimate mix up to me). See that girl in the black on the left side of the picture? She is just waiting for that dress to bust open. And if you're as hot as Cameron Diaz, there's absolutely no reason why that should ever happen to you. Besides, if she can't fit into her clothes, what hope does that leave for the rest of us?
P.S. the photo is from

why your parent's house continues to be fun even though you're "all grown up"

1. their new mac has photobooth; you get to take myspace-esque photos like the one above
2. see that cable box in the background? that would be tivo.
3. the fact that they display that hideous watercolor of the desert that your aunt made not because she's family but because it's hilarious.
4. they live in america so you can watch the whole season of "the riches" on hulu.
5. your skin (besides those couple spots on your forehead) looks amazing because the water is harder than in montreal so that ridiculously expensive face wash actually works.
6. it's hard to tell but that dark blur around the corner is the top of your brother's cello; it's so nice to have ambient live music being all time.
7. there are all these saved pictures on the computer "hannah's apartment," "hannah high school grad," which make you feel super loved.
8. who are you kidding, "all grown up?"

Sunday, February 24, 2008


I'm about to blow $50 buying v-neck t-shirts from american apparel online. Someone please stop me.

my old kentucky home.

Damn it feels good to be back. I've only been in the state for about twelve hours but I've already: Watched UK win a basketball game (um, suck it Arkansas), watched an episode of the Gauntlet 3, eaten a delicious home cooked meal (thanks mom), AND...wait for it...had a krispy kreme donut! I LOVE AMERICA. I mean, don't get me wrong, Tim Horton's your donuts are absolutely delicious. But what is up with only having sprinkles on half of the donut? Where are the delicious "fluff" filled donuts? Your bagels are beyond belief but for a truly wonderful donut experience I need good ole krispy kreme. Now I'm off to do other deliciously wasteful America things; namely get my nails done and help my mom pick out new tile for the basement bathroom. I hope you all have an equally delightful Sunday!

Saturday, February 23, 2008


So, remember how in my last blog entry (see below) I said that I would have a good travel story coming up? How about, my flight from Montreal to Chicago was delayed two hours and my flight from Chicago was delayed half an hour. Not exciting enough? Try adding that when I finally got on the plane to Lexington and had just sat down and done that awkward "hey how's it going thing?" to the person next to me the captain came over the loudspeakers and said "Sorry folks, I just found out that this flight has been cancelled." Apparently, legally you have to have .75 miles of visibility to land somewhere and Lexington was shrouded in fog. So I got to experience the joy of sprinting to the customer service machines on the other end of the airport to get a spot on the next morning's flight before everyone else filled all the spots. And then I got to ride the train (carrying my huge longchamp bag filled with my laptop, two ipods, my camera, and my passport in addition to both of my wallets; I really need to simplify when I travel) to my cousin's apartment; go to a dive bar with her, her boyfriend, and his friends, pass out on her futon at one, get waken up by her drunk boyfriend knocking on the door of the apartment at four, drinking a huge coffee, getting back on the train at five, and on the seven thirty flight to Lexington. 

Dear United Airlines: 
Suck it.

Friday, February 22, 2008


I'm in the Chicago airport and my flight is delayed. Literally, the story of my life. The only plug I could find was in one of those awkward charging bar stations so I'm camped out here with all the businessmen, except I'm not typing invoices, I'm watching Friday Night Lights. Good.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

an open letter

Dearing Blogosphere(?):
Sorry, I've been m.i.a. recently, school is kicking my ass so hard I don't know up from down, left from right, and oatmeal raisin from snickerdoodle. I'm heading to Kentucky tomorrow for a week of R&R and promise to update you with all the ridiculous/unfortunate happenings in my life then (I'm flying home, so you know there's going to be a story in there somewhere). In the time being, while I'm trying to complete my essay on "the diasporic city" (which would probably be easier if I even knew what that meant), I will leave you with this endearing story in the New York Times about an old man and his backyard retreat. If anyone out there has any spare woodworking skills or a working knowledge of finnish cottage, I would mind one of those out on my apartment's fire escape. 

Until next time,

Monday, February 18, 2008

kentucky: it's that friendly

A couple years ago, my home state of Kentucky rebranded. At the time they came up with the slogan "Kentucky: It's That Friendly." As you can imagine, that (and the smiley face license plate that came with it) didn't go over so well and was phased out after two years. But I can understand where they were coming from; Kentuckians by and large are pretty friendly people. Which is why I was caught off guard by an interaction I had earlier today.
I was walking home from studying at a cafe in the middle of a freezing rain storm. The ground was completely covered in ice and I probably looked ridiculous wobbling home because I was terrified I was going to slip and kill myself. So when a car went to turn into a driveway and starting spinning in front of me I stopped as to avoid getting killed. As I did so, some guy about my age was walking the other direction stopped as well and yelled "hey!" as if we knew each other. Startled, I looked up and said "hey!" as if I had a clue who he was. He then realized that I wasn't whoever he thought I was and quickly said "oh, I was saying 'heh' because it was funny you're about to get hit by a car, not like...hello." I just sort of looked at him like, "are you serious?" I mean, first of all that was a really poor lie, and second of all, who takes back a greeting? Dude, you didn't just accidentally hand me a hundred dollars, you were accidentally polite. Let it go. Is this the sort of world we live in? Where you apologize for saying hello to strangers? That's ridiculous. 

Saturday, February 16, 2008


Tonight I got off my lazy ass and went to a hot yoga class. If you've never done it, hot yoga is practiced in a room heated to around 105 degrees fahrenheit, usually for an hour and a half. I don't do it nearly as often as I would like to but it's absolutely amazing. If you're skeptical, I totally understand, at first I was like "yoga? for an hour and a half? in a sauna?" It's weird though, the heat doesn't bother me nearly as much as I thought it would. There's a couple minutes where you're like "oh my god I need fresh air,"  but that's about it. And, not to gross you out, but it's sort of rewarding to sweat like a mother for 90 minutes; you really feel like you're working shit out. Anyways, if you want to try something new I would highly recommend trying it out. 
P.S. If you're in the Montreal area, I take classes at Moksha

Thursday, February 14, 2008

won't you be mine? bison?

That is the picture that appeared when I searched "Valentine's Day" at Getty Images. It is a bison outside of Valentine, Nebraska. I consider this to be the best thing to have happened to Valentine's Day in a long time. Now, do not get me wrong, I am not a V-Day hater. I've never once sighed "it's just so commercialized." Nor did I complain when I never got a bouquet of flowers sent to my high school office even though I dropped hints year after year to whatever boy was currently carrying my books around. I've always been the one who loves Valentine's Day even though I've never once had a romantic one, and I refuse to be jealous of girls who have. My apartment is currently decorated with all sorts of goofy heart things from the dollar store which my roommate and I find hilarious. Anyways, tomorrow in one of my classes my professor is making us have a "Valentine's Day Debate" entitled "This Chocolate Tastes like Capitalism." To which I reply, "seriously?" Yes it's commercialized, yes it is almost as big of a let down as New Years Eve but whatever. Some mystery couple out there is going to really enjoy it; some girls might even get big whopping engagement rings. So there's no way I'm going to bitch about how Hallmark is destroying the American family, or making single women feel inadequate. Imagine how that bison feels! Out by itself in Nebraska! I don't know about you, but I'm pretty glad to not be that bison so I'll take my night at home watching "House" in bed on my laptop and eating peanut butter m&ms which I will have unabashedly bought for myself. I might even toss back a couple "I Love You," sugar hearts and peruse All I know is that I won't be spending the 14th of this month in Valentine, Nebraska so I'm already one step ahead of your average bison, and that's good enough for moi.  

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

my precious.

Happy early valentine's to moi! After months of trial and tribulation I finally am the proud owner of..."Become Jane" on DVD. Before you groan and start bashing my obnoxiously heteronormative behavior (that ones for you, crazy guy in my communications class) I have to explain the torrid love affair between "Becoming Jane" and I. Last summer, I went to go see the movie in theaters with my mom. Next to me in the theater was this obnoxious single guy who kept turning a water bottle upside down and making sloshing noises, whom I eventually hissed "STOP IT" at. Due to my mental love affair with James McAvoy, I have wanted to buy the movie ever since (fact: I now own exactly four movies on dvd and they are as follows; Pride and Prejudice, Becoming Jane, Shag: The Movie (about southern debs doing the dance in the 60s, not a porno), and West Side Story. such a complete collection). Anyways, after having been out forever it was simply not scheduled for release in the United States ever. EVER? It had been released in the UK months ago so I forced my mother to order it for me from there for Christmas. Christmas came and it turned out my mom had bought it on HD-DVD, thinking "high def, that must be better right?" So I, teary eyed, had to send it back over the ocean where it belonged. But tonight it finally came out in the states and Canada and now it is mine! Now I can have back to back Jane Austen themed marathons in my bed with the down comforter and bowl after bowl of honey bunches and oats! Hooray!
P.S. Thank you youtube creator for this amazing video montage to the backstreet boys.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

things i want

Saks has a new thing on their website called "Decades of Style," in which you can browse items of clothing from, you guessed it, different decades. I normally covet the style of the 1950s; full skirts, shoes dyed to match, etc. But they sort of got jipped in this endeavor so I headed to the 1960s and oh my god, I want everything. Anyone want to sport me five grand and a personal trainer? Of course, because it's me, I have some issues:Dear Ella Moss: Everything you make is adorable but I this color is very iffy. I don't have an Mediterranean heritage so I'm not sure if I could pull it off. Let's work on expanding passed "muted pastels."
I think this L.A.M.B. skirt is cute, but even the model looks bored with it. 

Actually, I have no problem with this skirt. This is just to remind me to start doing leg lifts. Also, be thankful I didn't include shoes in this post or it would have gone on indefinitely.
Everything available at

Monday, February 11, 2008

team awkward

New Amazing Game
1) Go to some sort of party/bar/club that you're not really into but sort of feel obligated to go to.
2) Realize that shots are $3. Have several. 
3) Try in vain to find a girl that you hate so you can mock her outfit.
4) Realize that this is petty. Take another shot.
5) Get asked to dance by a large boy in a white suit who moves onto a girl in capri pants.
6) Realize that everyone at this event is hilariously awkward and recreating a high school formal.
7) Stake out people that are doing ridiculous things and take blatantly obvious photos with them, like the following:
Not only is he rocking a sweet Club Monaco collared shirt while attempting to eat her face, she's holding her shoes! Nothing says "classy" like a barefoot makeout session in public. 

Sunday, February 10, 2008

oh honey no calls this look "all grown up." I call it "totally inappropriate for a fifteen year old."


I haven't blogged since Thursday? My bad. You might think this is because I was doing super exciting things over the weekend but that is not the case. Well, I did have a good weekend but it wasn't "awesome" in the traditional sense, although it was definitely awesome in the collegiate sense. On Friday I bailed on the library and embarked on a huge room decor project with my friend Leah, for which I was paid in matzoh ball soup (so delicious). Last night she hosted an "I Heart the 90s" party, which involved lots of butterfly clips, "Titanic" playing in the background and me guzzling an entire bottle of champagne. An entire bottle? Yes, an entire bottle. How does that even happen? And on top of it, how was I only "buzzed" as a result? Shit, I think I may have developed the tolerance of a college student, which is a real problem because I can barely afford to get myself drunk as it is. Well, this morning I dragged my non-hungover self (really, what is up with that?) to the library, did some readings and now am in my bed eating a bowl of cereal with a ladle because all the spoons were in the dishwasher. And I really want to watch "Animal House." Could I be any more of a frat boy?
my twin.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

muggs round two

Here's the deal, you can wear big heavy leather boots and try and pretend they're not muggs, but when you're sitting in class and there is a gleaming reflection off your metal UGGS tag shining in my eye, it's not going to work. A mugg is a mugg no matter what. And if you're going to get big heavy work boots, WHY uggs? Why not Carhatts or Sorels or Timberlands or whatever construction workers are wearing these days? If you want to show off your wealth and are delusional enough to think that uggs are the way to do it, you really have to go all the way with the furry martian kind. Or you could wear these beauties, spotted in my public sector econ class yesterday: They're GUCCI! Available at Bluefly for the low low price of $636 (20% off, yay!). I really wish that you could see the HUGE obnoxious gold logo on the tongue of the boot, which the boy wears pulled out and over the front of his pants legs. I'm pretty sure my dad has a pair that are IDENTICAL to this that he has had since the 80s that are made by some non-italian more manly brand. 
Now please, gentleman of my university, STOP WITH THE OVERPRICED GOOFY FOOTWEAR! It's so distressing to me that I've resorted to all capital letters. I am so sick of seeing man uggs in the winter, white D&G loafers in the spring, man sandals in the summer, and skateboarding sneakers in the fall. I personally like a boy's shoes to be an innocuous as possible. Men's feet are by and large scary hideous things so make it so that I don't even notice you have them. I may like my boys a little preppier than most but honestly just stick to brown leather boring things; wallabees, driving mocs, sperries, astor boots etc. Where I come from white shoes on boys are strictly for tennis and white trash weddings. Sneakers are fine for when you're doing outdoors things or exercising, and you don't need anything more than a classic wingtip for dressy occasions. I know that in this era of metrosexuality we're supposed to be embracing guys caring more about their looks but please, leave all the narcissism to moi; go chop firewood. 

male models. what?

New York Magazine referenced a New York Times article about how skinny male models are getting. Apparently menswear designers are favoring androgynous waif guys over the meatier, muscly guys popular in the 90s. Now, this is definitely in issue; I don't think our male models should have to starve themselves any more than I think female models should. But it was very hard to focus on that important issue when this was the picture that NY Mag used for the article:
Now, I'm trying to keep this blog PG13 so what the "eff" is that guy on the right? Also, when I stole this picture from, it had been titled "manorexia 07" which actually caused me to sort of snort out loud just now. But seriously, who is that boy and why is he all tied up? Isn't it difficult to walk down the runway with his knees roped together? Is that the point? Is it supposed to be some sort of social commentary on the restrictiveness of today's society? Does anyone else think that Thomas Browne (whose show the picture is from) is acting a little too big for its britches? Isn't it kind of hard to see the clothes in the runway show when they're hidden by gurney straps? Oh wow, sorry for all the questions; clearly this situation has left me horribly confused and looking for answers. 

Wednesday, February 6, 2008


I wish I could make this an actual interesting post but unfortunately I'm at the library writing a paper about Jim Crow laws in the South (reminder: look up family tree and see if any ancestors were involved in the writing of such pieces of shit then go back in time and kill them so that I wouldn't have to write about them. and of course also so that millions of people wouldn't have had to suffer.) and I'm already getting glares from other computer users in the area about not doing studious work (whatever, is important to my life education).


I have no idea what the picture is of that's below this post; all I know is that it showed up when I google-imaged "disconnect." Anyways, yesterday afternoon our cable and internet randomly went out. This is like the third time that it's happened but the first time that all of our neighbors have been smart enough to lock us out of their wireless. Our cable company said they would come out and fix it in the morning but this was around 4:30 or so in the afternoon. What on earth were we supposed to do until tomorrow without television or the internet? I'm not going to lie there was a bit of a panic. Well, after we had somewhat calmed down, we ordered mexican takeout, did a bunch of homework, watched a couple vintage Laguna Beach episodes, and baked the most delicious oatmeal chocolate chip cooks I have ever tasted (from scratch, I even chopped up baking chocolate for the chocolate chips). I'm not planning on purposefully disconnecting ever again but I can't deny that it was sort of the most productive I've been all semester...

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

an open letter

Dear J. Crew:
You know how I always say you can do no wrong? How I get all jittery when your catalog is late in the mail? How I neatly fold down the corner on pages of things I like and send my mom approximately 7 "Hannah saw this on and wanted you to see it!" e-mails a day? Well, dear friend, we need to have a talk. Don't worry, we're not breaking up, we're not even taking time off, but it has become necessary to discuss a direction you have gone in recently. 
First of all, dogs do not need clothes; they have fur. This coat, provided courtesy of mother nature, has kept them warm for generations. Second, if little Spot or Spike or Skip or whatever has some sort of puppy alopecia, what do you honestly think a pique polo is going to do for them? I know there's a population of people who dress their dogs in cute outfits. This is not your intended audience, J. Crew. Now, let's refocus and see what we can do about a little store credit for moi. 

Thanks so much,

P.S. That puppy is adorable and I applaud the infusion of sheer adorableness into the catalogue. 

P.P.S. The name of the color of that particular polo is "algae." Algae? 

Monday, February 4, 2008

my life as a mid 90s situational comedy

Today, after sweating my ass off (hopefully) at the gym I trekked my sweaty, purple faced self to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. After telling the pharmacist I what I needed to get refilled, I wandered around and picked up random other things I needed; advil, chapstick, etc. After stalling in the overpriced face scrub section for a while, they called my name at the counter and I went to pick up my script and pay for the couple other items. At this point in the story it is necessary to point out that I was buying a package of necessary feminine products (I'm sorry, I'm southern and simply cannot break the habit of refusing to mention this topic by name. The fact that I'm even blogging skirtedly around the issue of the female reproductive system is a huge step for me). Of course, Canada is practically a third world country when it comes to shopping efficiently so there are little stickers with the price of everything-no barcodes for the Quebecois. Price stickers that my product failed to have. The women actually raised the package above her head and start screaming "Jean-Claude! JEAN-CLAUDE! COMBIEN CETTE BOITE DE PLATEX?" Up until this point I'd been trying to play it cool, even though I have the composure of a seventeen year old and still hate buying these things. Of course this is the pharmacy right next to my university so it was full of youngsters buying condoms and makeup and other things you wouldn't be ashamed to scream across a crowded store. At this point I actually sprinted through the teeny tiny aisles of the store (with giant gym bag and all), grabbed another box, and literally shoved it in her face so I could pay and run away in shame. 

Sunday, February 3, 2008

touch pass

In an earlier post I talked about my love for college football. That love does not extend to professional football. Overpaid, overweight, overaged men in tights pants? Gross. Which is why tonight, the pinnacle of professional football viewing, I will be watching season one of Felicity on dvd (thanks Leah, I promise I'll return it eventually) and eating bowl after bowl of honey bunches of oats. Happy Super Bowl!

I wish I Could

Pull off a high waisted skirt. Lords knows I've tried. Hayden Panettiere, my least favorite Heroes cast member (and yes I watch enough to have an opinion), wears them all the time and looks adorable. The Nerdy Fashionista wears them fabulously and looks skinny as a rail doing it. I know you're supposed to just admit when fashion trends don't work for you and move on but I'm just really not ready to do that so I'll guess continue to try to figure it out and until I do will continue to look like a hot mess. 
p.s. my head was cut off in the original photo (that's what happens when our friends get drunk and go dancing) and that's our friend walker's lanky hand on the right.

Saturday, February 2, 2008

Hillary's Inner Tracy Flick

Slate posted this video comparing Hillary Clinton to Tracy Flick from the movie "Election," and I find it pretty hilarious. It definitely taps into the idea I think a lot of people have about Clinton as the "Type A," queen bee type. I'm not sure whether I'll be casting my primary vote for Hillary or Obama but I'd like to see some more concrete strategies from both of them; hopeful rhetoric is good but you can't exactly take it to the bank.

Friday, February 1, 2008

something to write home about

My mom sends me the most hilarious things in the mail. Whenever she has to send me med refills or other random things I'm pretty sure she just grabs any scraps of paper that are laying around the kitchen and shoves them in the envelope as well. These include newspaper clippings, random pictures, tear outs from magazines of things she thinks I would like (with post-its on them explaining why she likes them), and today, stickers. Butterfly stickers, with glitter on them tucked inside an early Valentine's day card. I know it seems a little weird but I consider this one of my mom's most endearing traits. It's almost like even though I'm a thousand miles away she wants her letters to me to be like an everyday conversation and isn't quite ready to admit that I'm twenty years old and probably not into butterfly stickers anymore. 
thanks mom.

show those pearly whites

So tonight I went to go see the Spice Girls' concert. Without even diving into why I went (if you even have to ask, we should probably just stop being friends) or divulging any details about how amazing it was (a futile task; no amount of words could explain the joyful delirium all those glittery outfits created) I want to draw attention to one amazing point.  After I got home and was scanning through my photos I realized that Posh was in the background of one random picture I accidentally took of the backup dancers. Smiling. With her mouth open. Didn't believe it was possible? Look for yourself:
I know the photo is blurry and it looks like she could just be yelling at someone to loosen her corset before she passes out but I assure you that this is not the case.  That my friends is a smile, an honest to god smile. The paparazzi ain't got nothin' on me.