Monday, June 29, 2009

First Day of School

Today is my first day of work at my new, extremely glamourous, New York job. I promise I'm not trying to be coy on the details, I'm just very much overwhelmed at the moment (for example: am walking and blogging on way to lunchtime starbucks). Explanation soon!

Saturday, June 27, 2009

an open letter

Dear Internet:

I wish you could have seen more of this woman's ensemble. The denim miniskirt, the rhinestone belt, the plastic turquoise heels (and matching clutch), the fact that it said "Harley Davidson," on the front of the shirt, the burgundy lipstick drawn outside of the natural lip, the Baby Phat eyeglasses, the face eerily reminiscent of a bullfrog.



Tuesday, June 23, 2009


Okay, y'all know I am sort of, well, waspy. I own a lot of seersucker, a longchamp or seven, and have probably referred to a vineyard vines pattern by name. When bored I doodle polka dots. The only cutesy handwriting I can do is when you write in print and then put dots on the intersections. My high school boyfriend's nickname for me was "bootsy." When the Lilly catalog comes I usually squeal. I CAN'T HELP IT. But this doesn't mean that I refer to the woman who gave birth to me as "Mother" at all times, nor do I think that a hot pink and lime green shift is appropriate for all occasions (unless your grandmother went by "Mitsy," then you should probably wear black to her funeral). I don't adhere to the young women in pearls, older women in diamond adage (strapless living loves her some bling) and under NO circumstances will you catch me in critter khakis (grown women with martini glasses on their chinos? fuck no).

Honestly, I'm the worst kind of prep. The kind that knows if your Lilly is last season, who will mentally categorize you as "new money," and whose grandmother referred to yours as a "racist bitch," because she wanted to keep the Jewish girl out of Delta Zeta. So, to all you girls out there rocking lime green lacostes and ostentatious monograms, I'm sorry. I will roll my eyes at you. I will tap my sperry's at you while in line at the peppermint palm because you're taking effing forever to pick a quilted tennis racket cover. But I promise I'm not trying to be mean, I swear. When not surrounded by cable knit ad nauseam I will be more than happy to listen to you talk about how much you LOVE picking out toile lampshades. I mean shit, if we have the same initials I'll even loan you my signet ring. But I'm on to you, fake preps, and your days of cardigans tied around shoulders are limited. We're in a recession now and no one wants to listen to you drone on about what a steal $200 d-ring belts are. So do the preppiest thing possible, and put a lid on it.

p.s. I'm sorry this post is full of so much rage, I SWEAR it is not directed at anyone's blog (especially not you preppy commenters). I just had a mini-seersucker-overdose this afternoon.

Monday, June 22, 2009

to do list

  • find an apartment in Brooklyn that will leave me enough income to buy the occasional food item.
  • sublet my house in Nashville.
  • beat the Valley Ghost House in Super Mario World.
  • figure out how the hell I got a mosquito bite on the bottom of my foot.
  • write a post about how wonderful my dad is, which I failed to do on father's day.
  • complete a hefty stack of HR paperwork.
  • celebrate the fact that in a couple of week I will have health insurance (who wants to go BASE jumping with me?).
  • buy a capo for the banjo my dad loaned me to learn on.
  • see as much live music as possible while still in Nashville.
  • re-pack all of my earthly possessions.
  • buy a hostess gift for my friend and her family, who are exceptionally nicely putting me up in their house in queens until I find a place.
  • come to terms with the fact that I'm actually going to move to New York (notice I didn't say "becoming a New Yorker," I think we all know I'll never be that cool).

Sunday, June 21, 2009

an open letter

Dear New York City,

Thanks for the job; see you in a week.


photo from here

Friday, June 19, 2009


Yesterday New York embraced me with pouring rain before, during, and after my interview so I was able to teeter through the puddles around battery park in my almost-stripper-height-but-they-have-the-hidden-platform-so-I-say-they're-fine-heels before making it to the subway station and supermaning into the moccasins stashed in my bag. Interview went well--am almost as nervous to have them offer me the job as I am to hear them reject me. Because I know I'll have to take it. It's such a good opportunity. I feel exactly the same way I did when I sat in Washington Square as a high school senior having looked at NYU when my dad said to me "it's not for you is it?" and I really wanted it to be. 

I could be freaking out for nothing. They could totally call me up and say "sorry you just didn't seem to have enough experience in Lotus Notes," or "you were 6'3 in those heels, what were you thinking?" But if they do say yes I'll be packing up my bags in Nashville and shoving them back into my parents' closets in Lexington and setting up my second house in thirty days in New York. I'll have health insurance and 401k matching and probably the same pit in my stomach longing for the south that I had when I lived in Montreal. When I missed that humid-sweet smell of diesel and grass and the southern manners that I once heard described as "passive aggressive" but which make me feel less alone regardless of who I'm with. Where I don't have any money but I have hair destroying humidity and the kind of beer I like and window boxes on the windows of my too-nice-for-me-but-totally-awesome-house. I went into Duane Read to get a toothbrush yesterday and fumbled with the dollar bills in my wallet like they were foreign currency.

I think I'm just being a brat. No one should look a job horse in the mouth with nothing but a Bachelors and ability to make photocopies. So we'll see. We'll see what they say and maybe render this entire post moot and fly southward and drink sweet tea and dip into a drawl we don't have. We'll see.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

interview checklist

  • In the city of New York: check.
  • Manicured nails: check.
  • Rough draft of questions to ask interviewer: check.
  • Directions to office via planes, trains, and automobiles: check.
  • Change cell phone time to Eastern Standard Time from Central Standard Time so as not to be an hour late to interview: check.
  • Hair straightener to tame wonky bang situation so as not to appear like the totally disheveled human being that I am: check.
photo from here

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

on the road again

  • I don't know why so many of my blog entries are about travel. Jet setter I am not. But I am leaving tomorrow for New York so be prepared for "dear god, so many northerners on one island," posts. Sorry for not divulging too much about the job interview, I'm not trying to be cryptic, I just haven't even fully comprehended the situation myself so if I tried to write about in complete sentences I'd probably vomit.
  • Went to the Centennial Sportsplex today and swam laps. Designer's Brew, I don't know how you do it. I swam eight laps and almost keeled over. It was so horrible I had to reward myself with a Sonic Strawberry Limeade afterwards. I don't know what they put in those things, opium maybe? They're so addicting. I'm serving Strawberry Limeade and samosas (the ones from an indian grocery store down here that are phenomenal) at my wedding. 

  • There is a tornado warning today. I haven't packed a stitch of clothing for tomorrow. And I am having a blepharitis flareup. That's right, blepharitis. It's this weird eye inflammation that I'm pretty sure god cursed me with because I find saying the name so hilarious. "You think my medical malady is a joke? I hope you enjoy it bitch!" Just kidding. God would never say bitch. I mean, I don't know, maybe he would, but regardless, it sucks ass and my eye is going to be all red and flaky for my interview. AWESOME.

  • Kenny vs. Spenny on netflix=how I plan to spend the next three hours. While eating the most delicious lemon zucchini bread on the planet, which I made from this recipe. Go forth, bake, you won't regret it.

photos from here, here, and here (my 14 year old brother took that picture of the van seats in our backyard, not bad eh?)

Monday, June 15, 2009

suit up!

On Wednesday I'm flying out for my job interview in New York, which is on Thursday. So over the past couple days I have been assembling what I largely consider to be the worst outfit in the world, the job interview suit, horrible for the following reasons:
  • It's summer. Blazers are sweaty.
  • I run into the same problem a lot of women probably have, which is that I want to look attractive but NOT sexy. My body shape is more six-year-old-boy than sexpot, which is good, but I do have almost 40 inches of leg that needs to be accounted for. 
  • I feel like a stewardess in a suit. Not that there is anything wrong with suits or stewardesses, I just never feel comfortable in the whole shebang. Collared shirt and skirt=golden. Blazer and jeans, good to go. But when the blazer matches the skirt it hurts me. HURTS ME. 
  • Below is a shoddy blackberry photo of what I've got so far. Banana Republic suit, Kate Spade bag, and shoes from Ann Taylor I found on sale for like $20 that were exact replicas of these little darlings. What do you think?

Thursday, June 11, 2009

random thoughts

  • Saw the documentary "Helvetica" today and I pretty much wet my pants with joy over the nerdiness of the font discussion. Seriously, it's amazing. If you enjoy listening to adorable, ancient German men talk about revolutionizing the world of typography then dear god go watch this movie.
  • I'm going to New York next Wednesday for a job interview. What the fuck is up with that? Should probably diminish the use of the F word in future blog posts in case they cyber stalk me and find out I have the mouth of a sailor. 
  • A friend of my roommate's spent the night in our house on his way to Bonnarroo. He was coming in from LA and brought a friend from high school. That friend is my new arch nemesis. Anyone who walks into my house and immediately parks it on the couch to begin feverishly twittering is not really off to a good start. I mean, listen, I love my blackberry as much as the next person. I use the GPS to get me everywhere. But this boy was on a whole difficult level. We're talking semi-balding, beer belly, emo glasses, daddy's audi, and the propensity to say things like "Shia Lebeouf was at my new year's eve party." He was also addicted to pot but had the disposition of a chihuahua; who knew that was even possible? 

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


As much as I hate the idea of stress, and tips for managing stress, and people who always talk about being stressed, I'm a little stressed at the moment. I just moved all my belongings four hours from home in Nashville. And I can't quite figure out the arrangement of the furniture in my room, which is bugging me. I don't have a job yet or connections in the city but I'm prepared to work at it and remain calm until things sort themselves out. But last week a friend of mine who works in New York passed my resume to her boss and told her I was amazing and now they want me to fly to New York for an interview. Like, tomorrow. And maybe start working in four weeks. Which would be pretty obnoxiously awesome to be honest (health insurance!) but it's all sort of frenzied at the moment. It would mean repacking all of my stuff and driving fourteen hours to New York. It would mean bailing a month early on my roommate who moved down from Montreal for the summer. It would mean bailing four months on early on the six month lease that I signed with my landlord. It would mean canceling my brand spanking new netflix account.

I would love to spend the rest of the summer down here. It's warm, and smells good in my neighborhood and you can buy Sweetwater beers from Atlanta which aren't pasteurized and thus not distributed north of this city. But if I get offered this job I simply can not turn it down. The timing of this situation is ridiculous. I just bought a lawn mower for christ's sake. What am I going to do, go mow central park on the weekends? Anyways, I've managed to remain calm thus far, utilizing all sorts of "let it be," mantras and talismans. But I can feel a bit of a panic slowly rising in my chest. So far I've pushed it back down with face sized bagels and bags of doritos but it's pound to pop up sooner or later. At which point you should probably keep me away from the lawn mower.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009


Today's definition is brought to you by my best friend, J.

Wobo [woh-boh] -noun, plural -bos, -boes: A female hobo.

semi-irrelevant photo from here


Yesterday I drove back to Lexington because my parents are flew to Italy today for their 25th wedding anniversary trip and someone needed to take my 14 year old brother to the orthodontist to have his braces removed. Well, there's more to the story but that's basically the gist. This is the same 14 year old brother who was cutting logs with a chainsaw on saturday and sliced his leg open, garnering him 19 stitches and enough bad ass cred to get him through the next three years of high school. So I've been playing nursemaid and delivery girl to his every teenage need (which, god bless him, is really not much, mostly oreos). Then my friend J and I made paintings of robots to hang in the nub hut. Because that's how grown up I am. 

Friday, June 5, 2009


Today I did the following:
  • completed 24% of Donkey Kong
  • sent out approximately four thousand resumes to such awesome sounding jobs as "weekend receptionist"
  • left the house only to get beer and fritos

It's official. I am a frat boy. Next week: beer gut, camo baseball caps, and a jeep grand cherokee.

photo from here

Thursday, June 4, 2009

missing in action

Okay, so I didn't die. I've just been in the process of moving and thus my ability to think clearly enough to write in complete sentences (or well thought out fragments) has been severely diminished. Now that I'm settled into Nub Hut, and Comcast has finally figured out how to install our internet, blogging will continue as scheduled.

Having said that, be prepared to read entries about things like "navigating your new grocery store is fun!" "are our neighbors using their porch light to spy on us? and "inflating mattresses, the new couch." Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go figure out how to adjust the thermostat (it has a stylus!), I'll be back tomorrow.

photo from here