Miranda and Me

Yesterday morning, I went to breakfast at a cute little cafe with one of my best buddies, Miranda (no, her real name isn't Carly). We went to a quaint cottage-like place called Sweet Butter and ordered egg white omelets in an attempt to be healthy. We figured we had the remainder of the day to squash that dream, so we might as well start off right.

After our breakfast, we went to Runyan Canyon and hiked. We chugged water and struggled to breathe as obnoxiously healthy mothers pushing their babies in strollers seemed to jog past us, unintentionally mocking our struggles.

Whenever you get me and Miranda together, it's a real-life sitcom in every sense of the word. After our breakfast and questionable workout, we started talking about those instances where you're on a date with a guy and you feel like he's about to kiss you, but for whatever reason the chemistry just isn't there for you, so you're trying to avoid it at all costs. You keep your hands full with whatever you can hold, you carry idle conversation, you "trip"... whatever it takes.

Miranda not only told me about a scenario she recently had where she attempted to avoid but ended up begrudgingly and uncomfortably kissing her date, but she proceeded to drive me back to the scene of the crime so I could get the play-by-play firsthand. I laughed hysterically as she recreated the scene for me, which ended in her spottily pulling out of a tight parking space as her pursuer looked on with cheeky confidence, hands stuffed in his pockets like the hero of a John Hughes movie. Miranda is a wizard at storytelling... I wish you could all hear her. But you can't. So you can either enjoy this blog or take a hike. Hopefully hikes are easier for you than they are for me and Miranda.

Wax and Wane

I got a Brazilian wax this morning. It was my fifth one. It hurt as bad as the first one, even though they tell you it won't. I had a different technician than I usually do. I'm not sure why they're called technicians instead of groomers or something else a little less intimidating, but they are.

Anywhat, the technicians wear surgical masks and rubber gloves. The fact that they guard themselves so thoroughly when dealing with lady parts gives me a newfound respect for boys and the fact that they willingly go anywhere near there. Poor unfortunate souls.

You'll be happy to know that my bits are now glowing. You're welcome for the visual.

ohmygodwhatshoulditexthim

So there's this guy I've hung out with a couple times. I've got the super hots for him. I find him very attractive and can't help but smile when I see him.

I was hanging out with him and a few of my friends last night. It was a grand ole time. He drove us all back to my place and when everyone was leaving, he took my hand, kissed me on the cheek, and said that he'd like to take me out soon so the two of us can spend some time together. I almost dropped dead right on the spot.

He texted me tonight and I completely girled out about it. I waited thirty minutes to respond but I already had a text drafted and I accidentally sent it at exactly the thirty minute mark, so then I wondered if he would notice the exactness and assume that I had put as much strategy into that text as I did.

Which got me thinking (never a good thing)...

I wonder if boys ever realize how much thought we girls put into our interactions with them? We overanalyze, over-criticize, and over-think until our little minds and hearts are exhausted. It's no wonder we're all bitches.

Stay tuned for more on my new crush, including but not limited to potential blurry pictures of him that I *might* sneak at dinner.

Malls and Mattresses

This is my first ever blog post. I've wanted to start a blog for a while now, but I of course procrastinated until it was no longer hip or cool and more of a necessity... like having a Chanel bag. Oh wait I don't have a Chanel bag yet either.

I'm typing this from my bedroom, which is overheated because the heat in my house goes straight to my bedroom. It's very annoying but I tolerate it because my bed is so comfortable. It's a tempurpedic. I paid a nauseating sum of money for it, so I kind of feel obligated to spend at least three hours a day sitting on it in addition to six or so hours a day sleeping on it. I've gotta get my money's worth, you know?

I worked on Sam & Cat today. I got off early, so I went to the mall. In an attempt to be healthy, I ate some terrible organic, vegan, gluten-free, soy-free, whatever-else-can-be-free kemp noodles in the food court. The noodles tasted like cardboard with too much mint and I wanted to cry as I was chewing them. I couldn't believe my life had come to that.

Once I was finished, I seriously considered walking across the way to Panda Express and wolfing down some orange chicken. The only thing to stop me was the fact that all the granola-ey Earth Food employees would have been judging me during my entire walk of doom. I could see them in my mind, healthy little toned arms crossed, visors tilted in a decidedly disapproving manner, wagging their fingers as if to say, "no, no, you poor, unfortunate, will-powerless soul."

It was tough to walk away, but ultimately I'm okay with my decision. I gave myself a pat on the back for willpower. And then I rewarded myself for the willpower by taking fourteen Wetzel Bitz samples from Wetzels Pretzels.

Progress.