Filed under: celebrity worship, perfectly impossible, sporty spice | Tags: balancing isn't my forte, conan o'brien, eat better, gym rat, i'm having an affair with italy, money sucks, perfectionist
it’s pretty much february. that blows my mind. how has the first month of twenty-ten disappeared already?!
i’m making progress on bettering myself and making this MY year. it’s funny though — while i’m making improvements in certain areas of my life, i’m falling HARD off the wagon in others. balance, i’ve always lacked it.
i don’t want to jinx myself by listing the things i’ve done well in the past few weeks, so instead, i’ll do what i do best — berate myself for not being perfect:
perfect: never gonna happen. get over yourself, flippy.
gym: i miss you. it’s not you, it’s me. i’m lazy/busy. that might seem counterintuitive, but i assure you, it’s not. it’s just my life.
dentist: get one. immediately. book an appointment shortly after.
conan: stop crying about the whole nbc debacle (it’s been three weeks, after all) and start following coco’s words of wisdom. i’m becoming far too cynical and knowing he would be disappointed in me is kind of a tragedy.
writing: write more. write every day. write online. write in a journal. just write.
money: we’re getting there. slowly but surely, we’re getting there. eventually, we’ll be there.
Filed under: bestest friends, perfectly impossible | Tags: awesome short person in flip flops, california knows how to party, my flippy floppies, short is the new tall, stupid is as stupid does
i had big important plans to post about my awesomely awesome weekend in san fran, but then my awesomely awesome travel partner pointed out that i’m the sixth result in google for “stupid short person in flip flops.”
my pride is wounded.
*update: now i’m the first result. SEO FAIL.
**update 2.0: BUT now i’m also the first result for “awesome short person in flip flops.” SEO SUCCESS!!
Filed under: a few of my favorite things | Tags: california knows how to party, obsessions are ok in small doses
i just really wanted to write that.
and let you know i’m going to california again in approximately 10 hours.
i love my life. but not as much as i love california.
Filed under: fear and loathing, geek chic | Tags: blackberry, cell phone, feed me, help?, i'm too old for this
i’m pretty sure i should hire a personal assistant.
granted, i don’t have any money, and i can get really bitchy and/or whiny when i haven’t slept. but basically, i really need someone to take on the full-time job of making sure i act like a grown-up.
example: i don’t eat when i should. and when i do eat, i make poor choices. for instance, i’m sitting here, shaking because i’m so hungry, but instead of doing the responsible thing and making a sandwich, i’m blogging about it. (if you’re in the neighborhood, turkey on rye with a wee bit of mayo. thanks.)
another example: i don’t do errands. one of the main reasons i’m not eating (besides pure laziness) is because i need to go grocery shopping. i’ve needed to for about three weeks. i went before christmas, but only so i could buy six bottles of wine and a case of cheese dip.
the grocery shopping isn’t my biggest concern right now. that’s why they invented “pizza delivery” and “fast food.” no, my biggest concern is that my blackberry committed suicide this weekend and i needed to order a new one and i now have to fedex the original blackberry back to my phone company. WHAT?! how do i even begin to fedex something? don’t i already have enough to worry about with the whole phone-breaking-and-i-can’t-update-my-twitter-every-15-seconds thing and trying to figure out how to activate the replacement phone? and can someone please tell me how to back-up all my contacts when i don’t have access to the network? this is all far too complicated. i’ve managed to download five different programs and i’m nowhere closer to transferring my contacts from one phone to another.
(if you knew that i worked in a tech center, your brain would probably explode at my sheer incompetence with this phone debacle.)
so, yeah. if you’re looking for a new job that doesn’t pay well (or at all), requires a high tolerance for dealing with bitchy, sleep-deprived idiots and starts within the next 10 days (because that’s how long i have to fedex this stupid thing), call me! no, wait. e-mail me. god damn phone.