Tag: Grown-up Style

I thought I might be able to avoid the five-things (clever name) post, but when Jenny tagged me I decided I better get my act together or I won't be able to shamelessly beg to crash on her couch (in exchange for unlimited babysitting) in Italy when I decide to run away from life and live off of coffee and carbs forever. So, here I am with a perfect excuse to talk about myself 

(as if I ever need one).

So without further ado, here goes 5 nothings.

1. I am a color-snob. What does that mean exactly? 

I constantly judge women who look like they have colored their hair platinum blonde. I generally just stare and make a mental note on my hair superiority, but when I'm in Starbucks, ankle deep in blogging and some chick interrupts me to say, "I just HAVE to know where you get your hair done?"

I have no compassion.

Look at my eyebrows lady. 

See how they are the same color as my hair? And not 12 shades of brown like yours? 

This is genetic. You can't have my hair. 

Go away.

It's also winter and you would look better with a nice amber-brown shade anyway.

2. Speaking of my blondness, I didn't always embrace it. In 4th grade I had quite the blow up with my mother about the appropriateness of wearing sweat pants that had the word "bootylicious" written across my derrière. (Guess who was the voice of reason) and threatened to cut off my hair and dye it "The blackest of blacks," (like my soul) if she didn't let me wear them. I can't remember her exact response but I am sure she took the whole thing in stride because she is the classiest of all ladies and knew what a gigantic favor she was doing me. Thankfully for her, I still have my pride, dignity (and blonde hair) in tact.

3. Oh I haven't talk enough about my hair? Too bad we are switching gears. 

This past weekend I ran a half marathon. By the grace of all the running gods to ever exist, this wasn't my first one. However, I learned nothing from previous experience. 

I barely trained and I barely finished. 

I am still mad at myself for the wasted energy I used that produced tears the last mile because it was so painful. 

Thankfully I wiped away the tears in time to get one little picture. 

4. Do you know how it feels to be a sell out?
In a former life (high school) I was vehemently opposed to all things Starbucks. 

I used to talk garbage about the Starbucks Siren who swam around putting hexes on my friends and got them addicted to her sweet, sweet nectar.
That is akin to teasing the devil. You just don't mess around with her.
I now live for Friday mornings when I can walk in, order my "Tall, soy, dirty chai with no whip," and pay five Washington's for two hours of internet and people watching.
Pure bliss.

5. I have extremely frequent dreams about cheese.
 I refuse to go into the nitty gritty here (for now),
but five months ago I went dairy free for health reasons.
I abhor yogurt (unless frozen, mixed with sugar, sprinkled with gummy bears) and almond milk has proven to be a semi-acceptable substitute for udder juice. So it wasn't too big of a life change,
but
the
 cheese.
Never in my life have I craved pizza more.
A hamburger? Disgusting without 2 generous slabs of sharp cheddar.
I kid you not when I say I woke up a month ago chewing on my pillow going from absolute ecstasy in dream land, to despair in the real world.

Now run along and tell the world of my troubles. Until next time.

I'm probably setting myself for some sort of chain-blog breaking curse by only tagging two people, but I'll take my chances.

Felicity and Synical Sally

Hold On Bollywood, I'm coming!

So it's official. After a brief moment of panic and some confusing e-mails confirming my U.S. citizenship, I am going to India!

This isn't just an idea anymore.

The travel visa was approved and is now pasted into my passport. I can't just let that go to waste right? Right.

Blurry phone photos are my forte, what can I say?

Aside from the several vaccines I still have to get, and the (several more) shots of whiskey I plan to take to calm my nerves before the flight takes off, we are good to go.

But because I can never be a full on Optimistic Olivia, the only complaint I have to make is the annoyance of telling people I'm going. 

The conversation has generally gone a little something like this:

Random person: Em, I'm been awhile! Where have you been?

Emily: Oh, Um, I've been busy, but around. I'm going to India in a few weeks so I've been doing a lot of planning and stuff for that, you know.

RP: Wait what?! That's awesome. Are you thinking about becoming a nun or something?

E: Um, no.

RP: Oh. Mission work then?

E. Um, no. (Uncomfortable chuckle) I'm just going with some friends for the Festival of Holi.

RP: Festival of Holy? What's that?

E: It's um, also called the Festival of Colors? It's technically a pagan holiday. You throw colored dust in the air and it's a week long celebration. Sort of like an Indian Woodstock. 

RP: (Blank stare)

This is where I start rambling on fast (really fast) about how I'm not going to India just to party. So I talk about how I'm also going to: 

Ride an elephant! 

And see the Taj Mahal!

And The Amber Fort!

 And lots! of! exciting! and! cultural! and! life changing! things.

 

But it's too late. I've already lost them. 

To them I'm just another irresponsible party girl going though a quarter life crisis wasting away a very generous portion of my life's savings.

At first I was annoyed some people reacted that way. Then I started saying things like,

So, I won't be able to make it to your board game night. I'll be in India.

Sorry I can't come to your Tupper Ware party, I'll be in India.

Whatever people. Enjoy your wine and cheese party. I hope the thrill of those wine tannins really do it for ya. 

I'm going to India.

20 days 18 hours 12 minutes and countingggg.... till this craziness ensues. 

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