I've been watching an unprecedented amount of political coverage. And Tucker Carlson is all over MSNBC tonight. It would seem that after his run in with Jon Stewart (was that four years ago already?), and his unceremonious departure from CNN, Tucker became a man. His O'Reilly buttboy schtick went out the window with the bow tie. He either gained some weight or lost some of his unbearable cockiness since the last time I paid attention to him on the tv, and he looks more mature. Even his voice doesn't make me twitch anymore. Ok, when he gets shrill and excited, it still does, but the normal tambor does not.
And on the flip side of my brain (and my attention span for the evening), this woman has the most amazing make up tutorials I have ever seen. And she does it in a personable way. So, go learn how to put on liquid eyeliner.
7.22.2008
Exorcising.
I'm pretty sure it is a combination of the impending nuptials, my annual reminder of my life's failings, the new season of Project Runway and this article that is making me do a relationship audit.
I do not own a pair of rose-colored glasses. Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows are just Lesley Gore to me. I am not pining for anyone. In fact, it is a much more common occurrence that I will be breathing in a paper bag over my memories of the people I've been involved with than longing for them. I'm not sure if other people experience it, but I still vividly feel the discomfort and anxiety of who I used to be at just a name drop. I would call it shame. My involvement with certain people make me feel ashamed. I am sitting here starting to blush and squirm thinking about where this post could be going. It is one of my only tells when I'm caught being truly shady. My ears turn red.
I want so badly to assuage my nerves. I am in love. I'm about to commit myself until one of us dies (or kills the other) to our relationship. It feels comfortable and perfect. It is more than I ever expected. Why can't I get beyond who I used to be?
When Stewart and I met, I was at the bottom. I had been broken up with by someone I wasn't even involved with beyond humping. I was in a delicate situation with my best friend over the rift, because the two of them were also very good friends. My self worth was at a record low, having realized that I was being used as a surrogate for an unattainable girl with whom I share some personality traits--again. I hadn't been sober for longer than it took me to open a bottle in the morning. I quit my job and didn't get out of bed for a week. I met Stewart at kareoke. We both had plans for the following night. His involved some drama queens. I decided to go to my favorite bar, my two closest friends and this guy who I thought I was cool with being around, and humiliated myself in a gallon of gin and tonic. The was I summed it up the next day, hung over and watching Ace Ventura, Pet Detective with my most sensible friend, "I have no dignity and I feel like shit, but I had a really good calzone, so I guess it's a wash." And I went westward. For good.
And I need to insert here that Mike was not the worst of them, but he hit at a time where I was definitely not the best of me. I did not have the motivation to pick up and go on like I had previously. I was isolated. I was in transition. I felt like I had failed and it was the camel that broke my back. But it was the start of my metamorphosis into the grown up I am. And I hope that at least that section of shame will leave me be.
I do not own a pair of rose-colored glasses. Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows are just Lesley Gore to me. I am not pining for anyone. In fact, it is a much more common occurrence that I will be breathing in a paper bag over my memories of the people I've been involved with than longing for them. I'm not sure if other people experience it, but I still vividly feel the discomfort and anxiety of who I used to be at just a name drop. I would call it shame. My involvement with certain people make me feel ashamed. I am sitting here starting to blush and squirm thinking about where this post could be going. It is one of my only tells when I'm caught being truly shady. My ears turn red.
I want so badly to assuage my nerves. I am in love. I'm about to commit myself until one of us dies (or kills the other) to our relationship. It feels comfortable and perfect. It is more than I ever expected. Why can't I get beyond who I used to be?
When Stewart and I met, I was at the bottom. I had been broken up with by someone I wasn't even involved with beyond humping. I was in a delicate situation with my best friend over the rift, because the two of them were also very good friends. My self worth was at a record low, having realized that I was being used as a surrogate for an unattainable girl with whom I share some personality traits--again. I hadn't been sober for longer than it took me to open a bottle in the morning. I quit my job and didn't get out of bed for a week. I met Stewart at kareoke. We both had plans for the following night. His involved some drama queens. I decided to go to my favorite bar, my two closest friends and this guy who I thought I was cool with being around, and humiliated myself in a gallon of gin and tonic. The was I summed it up the next day, hung over and watching Ace Ventura, Pet Detective with my most sensible friend, "I have no dignity and I feel like shit, but I had a really good calzone, so I guess it's a wash." And I went westward. For good.
And I need to insert here that Mike was not the worst of them, but he hit at a time where I was definitely not the best of me. I did not have the motivation to pick up and go on like I had previously. I was isolated. I was in transition. I felt like I had failed and it was the camel that broke my back. But it was the start of my metamorphosis into the grown up I am. And I hope that at least that section of shame will leave me be.
7.21.2008
The Bulk Shopping Dilemma
I've been buying my meat from a wholesaler who sells nigh exclusively in the form of a 10 pound bag. There are pounds of chicken, ground beef, pork chops, sausages... Everything except the really good cuts of steak, all in a bag large enough to feed Stewart, my fiance, and I for a month. For a maximum of $15. And I buy them.
Once I buy them, I bring them home and separate everything into approximately 1 pound sections and put each chunk into a small freezer bag. Then I label them with the type and date of home storage. Then I cram them into the freezer.
I feel compelled to buy in bulk. I'm fairly successful tricking myself into thinking it's for the price breaks, but it's really because I'm lazy. I don't want to shop more than once a month, if I can avoid it.
When Stewart and I moved into our apartment, we had to curb our bulk buying due to storage concerns. I don't have space in my kitchen for two months worth of mini-wheats. The freezer has no shelves, and I got sick of the avalanche of toe shattering chicken breasts that spilled out every time I wanted to get an ice cube. Now the freezer is empty except for the ice trays and a few loaves of bread I overbought 4 months ago when there was a buy one, get two sale at the Big Y.
The moment I realized I had crossed the bridge from "I spent $30 at the grocery store and all I have is several types of cheese and some Doritos" Erin to "responsible adult, Friday evening Shopper" Erin happened on the phone. My friend, Tara, and I were catching up after she had moved in with her boyfriend. We were sort of having a surreal moment realizing we were both wandering down a very traditional path, even though our younger selves never would have seen it coming. As it turns out, Tara is buying her meat in bulk, too.
Once I buy them, I bring them home and separate everything into approximately 1 pound sections and put each chunk into a small freezer bag. Then I label them with the type and date of home storage. Then I cram them into the freezer.
I feel compelled to buy in bulk. I'm fairly successful tricking myself into thinking it's for the price breaks, but it's really because I'm lazy. I don't want to shop more than once a month, if I can avoid it.
When Stewart and I moved into our apartment, we had to curb our bulk buying due to storage concerns. I don't have space in my kitchen for two months worth of mini-wheats. The freezer has no shelves, and I got sick of the avalanche of toe shattering chicken breasts that spilled out every time I wanted to get an ice cube. Now the freezer is empty except for the ice trays and a few loaves of bread I overbought 4 months ago when there was a buy one, get two sale at the Big Y.
The moment I realized I had crossed the bridge from "I spent $30 at the grocery store and all I have is several types of cheese and some Doritos" Erin to "responsible adult, Friday evening Shopper" Erin happened on the phone. My friend, Tara, and I were catching up after she had moved in with her boyfriend. We were sort of having a surreal moment realizing we were both wandering down a very traditional path, even though our younger selves never would have seen it coming. As it turns out, Tara is buying her meat in bulk, too.
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