Sunday, November 30, 2014

Let the Holiday Season Commence

Happy holidays, from my family to yours!  

Ok, so technically none of my immediately family is in this picture.   This is the blonde, female contingent (sans my sister, who is busy surviving the Chicago winter) but, you know, close enough.  

I'm looking forward to spending the next 24 days curling up in bed while listening to the rain and playing Sleepless in Seattle and When Harry Met Sally on repeat.  I also plan on getting fat on egg nog.  Not sad at all.  What are some of your favorite holiday traditions?

Friday, October 31, 2014

Newspapers and Paper Planes

So yesterday I woke up to this:

Also yesterday I moved from West Portal to a quaint little neighborhood called The Tenderloin. 
 Have you heard of it?  (Also shoutout to Mom and Dad for helping me with the move.  If it weren't for them I would have had to cart my mattress on the Muni.  Which, let's face it: I've seen it done.)

But can we get to the really big news here?  After 10 straight hours of putting together boxes, packing, moving, elevatoring, unpacking, taking apart furniture and putting it back together (why do I insist on sleeping on a bed?), my three-weeks-old manicure still looks phenomenal!  Let's just take a moment to marvel at it, shall we?
If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: Gelish nail polish is the greatest contribution science has ever made to mankind.

Oh, also: Happy Halloween!
I'm supposed to be Amelia Earhart, hence the paper airplane.  Duh.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Sartorial Saturday

I like to shop.  Alas, I have no money.  So I like creating outfits I *would* wear if I had said money.  I know fashion blogs are more ubiquitous than Ryan Gosling fan girls, but the difference between them and me is I would never suggest you buy a top that costs $350.  To misquote Coco Chanel herself, "That merde is much better spent on champagne."

Make Your Lips the Main Attraction
A casual fall outfit for those weekend days when you want to look effortlessly classic and comfortable. Your lips offer a pop of bright red color to an otherwise muted outfit. Chic.

Make your lips the main attraction.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Welcome to Cougar Country

The great thing about the Internet is that it really seems to know me better than I know myself.  Oddly enough, the scary thing about the Internet also happens to be that it seems to know me better than I know myself.

Case in point, this ad showed up today on not one, but *two* different websites I often frequent:
To be quite honest, this was my first reaction while staring at my computer screen during company time at home while definitely not at work:
I basically read it as a "we know you're pushing 30.  Face it: you're a spinster.  The only guys left out there for you probably haven't even graduated from high school yet.  Lucky for you, that sort of loneliness is totally hot right now!"

Am I the only person out there who constantly needs to be reminded of my age?  I mean, I really feel that my organs are a youthful 24 at the most.  And my music collection screams teenage angst, not "your biological clock is ticking." I forget at times how old the rest of the world sees me.

Like any good curious blogger, I visited, you know, in the name of science.  I was greeted with this:
So I take back my initial shock and horror.

I mean, yes, this site is reminding me of my aging spinster status, and assumes I not only must have at least one divorce behind me based on my Amazon shopping habits, but I've probably popped out a kid by now as well. Possibly worse is that these same website analytics that had the twisted sense of humor to cause this ad to pop up in my feed, are probably mercilessly judging the desperation implied by my love of 1990s romantic comedies on Netflix RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND.

However, still has hope that a HOT YOUNG STUD IS OUT THERE LOOKING FOR ME RIGHT NOW!  I mean, yeah,  younger guys ("cubs" is actually the politically correct term for this breed, as this website points out) have never been my thing, but you've got to admit they've got stamina.  And they'll probably encourage my love of Rihanna and late night bar hopping more than any straight guy in his 30s ever would.

Hell, my future prince charming is probably busy doing a keg stand with his other newly-initiated frat bros while I type this very sentence.  All I have to do is wait for him to realize he's into older women, find, create a profile, and be within a 15-mile radius of me.  There's a fairy tale in there somewhere.  If I'm not planning my wedding to this guy by this time next year, then I just don't understand life at all anymore.

Thank you, Internet, for reminding me that there's a large probability my soulmate hasn't even been born yet.  I like them odds!

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Phototacular SF

I've been housesitting for this bunny all weekend.  It's been glorious getting out of my apartment, away from the roomies, and just not doing anything.  The bunny wants nothing to do with me, so it's just been me and Netflix.

When I watch Netflix, I get to thinking.  And while I was thinking, I realized I haven't spent a single weekend staying in since...February?  As a bit of an introvert, this is toxic.  Housesitting was that much-needed time to clear my head...and head cold.  I'm currently typing this with a throat that feels like I spent all night  shoving burnt matches down it.  Lovely.

I've been a bit in the pits lately.  I don't know why.  I think it's anxiety about the future or something dumb like that.  I've been out with friends having a blast, doing the dating thing (which I wish I could write about, but my fear that karma is real won't let me), volunteering, studying and preparing for the future, yet I feel sad.  I don't know.  I'm in emotional limbo, I guess.  I tried to wash away the sinking feeling with mani-pedis and BeyoncĂ©, but weirdly that's not working this time around.  So I figured I'd spend Saturday strolling around San Francisco with my camera to clear my head instead.  Yep, just me, my camera, my Spotify playlist, and 10,000 tourists out and about on an 80 degree day.

The weather.  The bridges.  *Some* of the buildings.  *I'm* here.  I mean, how much better can a city get?!  People here are pretty cool, usually dreaming of the next big thing and then actually making it.  Probably while fueled by a recreational drug of some sort, but that's neither here nor there.

Anyways, onto the pictures:

Whoever Nelson is, he has a kick-ass last name.
We San Franciscans soak up the sun when we can.  It's pretty rare around here during the summer months.

The little java house that could.

In case you were wondering what the underside of the bridge looks like, it's just as boring as you'd imagine it to be.

I don't know, I just think tug boats are adorbs.
Fancy pants.
Cupid's Bow.  Also Gap headquarters.
Menacing bird.
 I wasn't allowed inside.

Why do things that look so good taste so bad?
Bike cabbies: significantly less annoying than car cabbies.
I can only assume they were clapping for me.


I really liked seeing all the small fishing boats at Fisherman's Wharf.  A good reminder that the place isn't just a tourist trap: it's still thriving with its namesake's industry.
I never took Elmo for a Marina resident, but I've been surprised before.

Crissy Field is for lovers.  Also frat bros (not pictured).

People getting married and making me feel so old, so alone.  Jk...good for them.

We had a moment.  Then he tried to shit on my head.
What most of my walk looked like: me and hundreds of other people with their cameras.


That's me!

Postcard SF.

I ended up walking 14 miles *and* making a pitstop at Trader Joe's.  Not too shabby.  I still better.  I also have a brutal sunburn to show for it.  Battle scars, you know?
Feel free to use this as a cautionary tale as to why you should always put on sunscreen.  Even in San Francisco.  It feels worse than it looks.