Archive for the you have to be a chick to understand Category

the rules, part two.

Posted in mirror mirror on the wall, shopping, sigh, you have to be a chick to understand on September 19, 2008 by drbolte

i bought these pants. i had a coupon. they were $18. they are versatile. these were my thoughts. and they don’t look like jeans, which was the problem with the steel grey pair of these that i tried on and pretty much liked. also, i think the brown ones looked better, but i have no perspective.

(good news? a solid size, size and a half down.)

now, the ultimate question: what do i wear with them?

I skew very matchy matchy, but i know this limits me. i need ideas. and shoes. shoe ideas.

basically, i am your mannequin. dress me.

(did that sound weird? sigh. i need to do something productive now.)

where are the rules and the $5K when you need them?

Posted in ghetto life, i'm so much cooler online, me, mirror mirror on the wall, someday I'll be a real middle class girl, The Single Life, you have to be a chick to understand on September 12, 2008 by drbolte

who wants to be my personal stylist?

no, seriously.

the things that routinely go through my head when choosing clothing to wear to, say, my job as a tutor on campus revolve around cleanliness, if i have a pair of $2 flip flops that match or sort of match or don’t even remotely match it, if it’s comfortable, if it will give me heatstroke as i am crossing campus, and whether or not i have worn it before.  like, you know, recently.  as in i don’t want to be that girl who keeps wearing that oxford university shirt even though i have two and they are comfortable and i can wear purple flip flops with them and do you see my dilemma?

every day that’s not a work day,  it’s pajamas and workout wear.  because i work out and then sit in my desk chair all day being brilliant, and if i can do that with turtles or rabbits on my legs, i will do it and be glad.

because seriously, folks, i have time to worry about my wardrobe like not at all.  i mean i want to.  i’m a girl. i want to be cute and adorable and put together all of the time.  i watch what not to wear like every other self-respecting shlub and wish that i could have the genetic disposition that allows me to put purple alligator handbags together with some non-matching outfit and have it look spectacular.

i also wish i had the funds to make that possible.

but that’s another topic entirely so ANYWAYS.

what was i saying?

oh. stylist. need one. right.

i do need new clothes. i believe that i have talked about the need for suit shopping before (mom has graciously offered to take my clothes shopping for my birthday, which is exciting but probably won’t happen until JUST BEFORE INTERVIEWS after christmas and that’s just too far away).  but clinton and stacy have taught me this much: when i do go suit shopping i will be looking for SUPER! SASSY! FUN! things to wear under it, but let’s be real–a suit’s a suit.

as for the rest of my clothes?  i kind of need help.  my jeans are all getting too big and that’s really all i ever wear (i know, i know, i know. i’m old enough to not wear jeans all of the time. i get it.) and now i feel interested in purchasing other things but part of me is like “why buy clothes now when they’ll all just be too big in a few months anyways and when you never wear anything but pajama pants anyways, smart one?”

sometimes my inner voice is kind of a smartaleck. right, but still smartalecky about it.

but i’m looking ahead because i am nothing if not a PLANNER.  and within the next, say, month and a half, i would like to have some solid pieces that can mix and match and do amazing things to my butt.  two of those three wouldn’t suck.

i’m kind of preppy, y’all, with some weird eclectic flair. after all, i did buy and do wear zebra striped flats.

basically, i’m a pathetic heap of sassy just waiting to express itself but can’t manage to find a way to do it well.

anybody want to go shopping with me?

just trust me.

Posted in etcetera, you have to be a chick to understand on September 4, 2008 by drbolte

on the day when you are completely PMSing (sorry, boys, but it’s life) and randomly emotional for no good reason:

don’t go through the facebook photo album of ANOTHER of the MANY couples that have gotten engaged/married/coupled/etc, lest you be convinced that you will never, ever be loved by anyone who walks on two legs and is male.

(you know, as opposed to those who walk on four, have fur, eat out of a dish on the floor, and love unconditionally.)

for all that is holy, don’t think about the future, the clear relationship between the dwindling state of your bank account and the increasing costs of conferences/job searches, the fact that no one ever answers your emails, or how your hair just hangs there because you still don’t have a new hair person in the state in which you reside.

don’t wear jeans when you walk through the stadium to pick up tickets.  in fact, don’t wear jeans at all.  opt for pink turtle pajama pants and a completely mismatching t-shirt.

don’t react when you realize that your block’s tickets may, in fact, be on the TOP ROW OF THE SWAMP. don’t think about how, even though you don’t really have a fear of heights, being that high might be terrifying.  instead, focus on how you likely won’t be fallen on by a drunk frat boy…unless that drunk frat boy FALLS FROM THE SKY.

make pizza.  eat lots of it.  watch stupid sitcoms and try, even though it is right now akin to physical pain, to write letters espousing your amazing so that you can slog through the first stage of the job search documents.  even if you don’t believe a word of it.

breathe.

remember who you are.

recollect the days when your hair curls perfectly, you look slammin’ in that dress, there’s always enough money even when there shouldn’t be because you pay tithing, and that the universe lines up just to announce how awesome you are.

tomorrow will be better.

it’s definitely monday.

Posted in sigh, The Single Life, you have to be a chick to understand on July 28, 2008 by drbolte

woke up late. haven’t eaten breakfast yet. but i needed to come on here and confess.

i might have a crush on someone that i really shouldn’t have a crush on.

don’t worry. nothing scandalous or anything, like a student. (uh, no. i have had adorable students, but i am better than that. you know those skeezy professors. that’s not me.)

just…utterly unattainable but completely adorable. and problematic for many reasons. but when he talks to me and is all adorable everywhere all the time…CRUSH.

i hate those. they’re so distracting.

sigh.

tell me i’m not the only one…confess your current or past crush-y secrets. i am almost a doctor, after all…

edited to add: and the monday goodness keeps on happening. people in the gym.  me=cheesed off and gunshy given my last experience.  not motivated to work out ANYWAYS=turning around and coming home.  some days you just want to go back to bed.  disappointments and frustrations abound in other, non-talk-about-able areas of my life.  there’s nothing worse than seeing the bad when you ought to see the good, and that’s me today.  i might cry a little. maybe i’ll take a nap.  i’ve got nothing to show for this day.  i’m sick to death of that.

it’s not pretty. be prepared.

Posted in domestic goddess, drama drama drama, ghetto life, going quietly mad, someday I'll be a real middle class girl, you have to be a chick to understand on June 16, 2008 by drbolte

it’s monday.

boy, is it monday.

i began this day pretty much thinking that it was going to suck, in the sense that i was already disappointed in myself.  i set the alarm for a half hour earlier than i had before, hoping to be able to get up and to the gym before work.

didn’t happen.

i rolled over and decided not to.

so i decided to do my errands instead before i went to work.

that was a good choice, because there were far fewer crowds.

went to the car place, where i needed to have my oil changed, and was told that my back tail light and turn signal were out.

(perhaps that’s why my turn signal was acting like a spastic speed addict?)

super.  replace them, please.

got out of there, even with replacing those and my windshield wipers which had seen better days and were begging to be put out of their misery, for about $10 or $15 less than i thought i would.

thank heavens for student discounts.

because then i went to mail a package to the best friend.  it’s the best package EVER CONCEIVED IN THE HISTORY OF MAN but…it’s basically full of dumb crap.  i mean, it’s dumb crap that will make him TOTALLY excited and happy, but it’s still dumb crap because the dumb crap is the funnest.  like an inflatable limbo stick.

(and, yeah, funnest is a word. shut up.)

it cost me $48 to send it to australia.

FORTY EIGHT DOLLARS.  i think my heart stopped.  i’m pretty sure that he will FLIP THE FREAK OUT when he sees that label on the box.  maybe yell at me. or maybe just feel bad.  he’ll get over it, though, because he’s a boy and boys have the miraculous ability to be like “ooh. that sucks.  moving on…” and compartmentalize the heck out of life.

i envy that.

because i felt stupid. and guilty. and lame.  why did i spend $48–even though that was, in fact, the cheapest option available to me–to send 4 pounds worth of stupid candy and little debbies and fake firework displays (long story involving party confetti poppers and a CD of john phillips sousa music) and baseball pez dispensers?

oh yeah. it’s because i’m that kind of person. and because he’s the best friend. and because he’ll like it.  and because…i do stuff like that.

so basically i’ve spent the last hour wondering why i’m an idiot.  and wondering if i can salvage this day somehow.

and then someone comes into work with a philosophy paper on free will and God, and is basically is asserting that he believes exactly what i believe, and even though the quiet voice of the Spirit was telling me to talk to him about the gospel, i didn’t do it because i wasn’t sure it was appropriate.

i think i just want to cry.

all i can think is that i am being WAY too hard on myself about everything.

(color me surprised.)

and that tomorrow at this time i will be on my way home, to spend a week and a half with my cats and my mom, getting work done and getting my batteries recharged for life.  i need that every once in a while.

and that because  i will be traveling, i’m awfully glad i didn’t listen to that crazy voice that told me not to bother changing my oil, because they fixed my tail lights so that i won’t get pulled over.  that’s a HUGE blessing.

and that the day isn’t over yet, so maybe i’ll get some yoga and crunches and squats and other things in so that i won’t be a lame-o to the lameth power.

and that maybe, just maybe, this frustrating plateau will resolve itself soon. i can’t express in words how frustrated i am, even though i’ve lost inches and i look different, i’m not seeing it and so i don’t believe it’s real until it’s numerically expressed.  i guess i think i might be making it all up.

and that maybe eating leftover roast will be yummy.  it turned out SOOO good!  i was a domestic success.  hooray! that didn’t suck.

and that putting one foot in front of the other will make everything okay.  it always does.

and that tomorrow? WON’T be monday.

sign 483 that i’m procrastinating.

Posted in disney princesses got nothin' on me, etcetera, me, mirror mirror on the wall, you have to be a chick to understand on May 30, 2008 by drbolte

updates. i got ’em for ya.

look what i bought yesterday!

so…these are from bluefly and they cost $248.00.  i did not buy those shoes.  the shoes i bought…at walmart…were $15.  and i actually think they’re cuter than these. you may scoff at that if you must, but they are super cute and look good with jeans!  i hope that they’ll look good with my red party dress too! instead of a buckle in the back they have a cute little bow.  they’re a little bit higher than this, and i think have less of a platform.  but i’m at work and they are at home so…that’ll have to do.

i think that will end my shoe buying for a while.  aren’t you proud? zebra print AND red gingham.

also…update on blindish date guy. he got my email, replied and seemed okay with everything, and then unfriended me on facebook.

oookay.

your thoughts? any?

monday monday…can’t trust that day

Posted in blogging, dissertation, domestic goddess, grrrrr., i promise you that you won't care, someday I'll be a real middle class girl, the internets, the joys of living in Florida, wish i may wish i might, you have to be a chick to understand on May 18, 2008 by drbolte

i hate mondays.

i don’t know why. i should see it as the beginning of a whole new week, a new opportunity to accomplish the things that i didn’t get the chance or have the inclination to accomplish the week before.  instead, i see it as this great big fat flag that says “hey! you have five more days to get through before you get to play.”

terrible attitude, really.

nevertheless, this week i sort of welcome it because it ends the supernaturally boring weekend that forced me to find things to do to keep the quiet at bay and brought me cramps.  i’m glad it’s over is my point.  and even though i have to wake up hecka early on wednesday to do a classroom presentation, all i can think is that this week i get to try to accomplish something substantial.

are you looking forward to anything this week? any big plans? any good goals?

my biggest goal? get back to the gym.  it’s intimidating the heck out of me again, and i just…have to get back to that place where i care more about doing it rather than how much effort and confidence it takes.  i’m a basketcase, the end.

my biggest hope? that i get fellowship news. at this point, i almost don’t care what it is (that’s a lie. i still want it bad). i just want to know already. and i hope that i get some good mail.

back to the end of my lame weekend, which is currently involving army wives on lifetime and crossstitch.

oh me.  behold the cliche.

ps to my saturday night.

Posted in you have to be a chick to understand on April 19, 2008 by drbolte

i found a blog.

and i might have a little blog crush on him.

look at all of those pictures of his ridiculously adorable puppy and tell me you don’t get a little swoony.

whatever. shut up.

one HOT saturday night.

Posted in domestic goddess, i hate vegetables, The Single Life, you have to be a chick to understand on April 19, 2008 by drbolte

yeah. you thought there was going to be some kind of story about mayhem, didn’t you?

nope.

this is what i did on saturday night.

(after the luau and talent show. that’s how us [we?] mormons roll.)

behold the domestic goddess in me…

this is based on the best banana bread recipe that i’ve ever gotten, and because i’m a giver, here you go. it might seem weird (sour cream? what?) but it’s really quite good. terrible for the figure but…what are you going to do?

and then, because i had such a huge amount of bananas, i got creative…

i had doubled the recipe, so instead of making another loaf (the first goes to church with me tomorrow), i made muffins for myself and threw some chocolate chips in there. if you don’t think that chocolate and banana is the most amazing combo EVER, you’re crazy.

now i’m watching an old grey’s anatomy rerun on lifetime and eating a couple of said muffins.

that’s one kickin’ saturday night in the life of a cute single girl, folks. i am all about the amazing, eh?

“i smell toast…and almonds. i smell almond toast.”

Posted in you have to be a chick to understand on April 16, 2008 by drbolte

scenes from the gym.

i managed to get there ONLY because, in what can only be described as a modern-day miracle if you’re waxing supremely hyperbolic (and i am–and it’s true), i found my headphones.

i walk into the cardio room and the rec sports worker tells me that they’re filming today.

“i’m sorry. WHAT?”

“they’re filming today. they say there will be no definitive faces. they’re doing a story on mumbledrownedoutbytreadmills and it’ll probably be on the news.”

staring for the briefest of moments, i chuckle.

“oookay.”

thank heavens i wore a hat and sort of shaved my legs, right? gosh, what would i have done if you know I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO THE GYM SO WHY DO I HAVE TO LOOK GOOD ANYWAYS?

luckily, my corner treadmill was available. oh, how i love it.

i notice that the camera crew, consisting of one woman all dressed in black wielding a tripod and seriously small camera, has trained this no-definitive-face-recording camera in the opposite direction.

phew. bullet dodged.

into mile one, all warmed up and starting to sweat, the tripod moves. i’m trying to stay zen about it. i’m listening to the top 20 request countdown on XM radio, which actually doesn’t completely suck and is oddly appropriate for a workout, so you know, what does it matter? i mean, so what if i might possibly end up on t.v. while on the treadmill. big deal. maybe it will show that people not in tiny shorts, shaped like a stick (no offense to those of you who…well…might resemble a stick), or training to be a treadmill olympian value their cardiovascular health.

this is the narrative inside of my head, which is fought by the one that is screaming ACK! CAMERA! I LOOK HORRIFYING!

you know how it goes.

it just moves across the room and is trained away from my far corner, so i concentrate on counting my quarter-mile laps in the attempt to not pay attention to how long i’ve been walking. around lap 10 or something, when i’d amped up the speed and was very, very grateful for “elevator” coming on even though i am oddly suspicious of the lyrics that i wasn’t really listening to, and was trying to remember how to breathe, the tripod moves again.

ten feet away.

trained directly onto the three treadmills in a line–the last of which is currently punishing me. there’s no way i am not in this shot. there’s no way that, if this footage is on the news, my butt will not be prominently displayed.

WHY? WHY, OH UNIVERSE? WHY MUST I BE TAPED WHILE WALKING?

whatever. once the tripod was gone, i promptly forgot about it because cute miss i’m adorable and i am flirting with the boys in the gym came in all smiley. i think i was on lap 12 or 13 at this point, and really did not understand in any way why she was smiling.

what’s so funny? you got a secret joke? what’s the deal?

yeah, i get a little surly at the end of mile 3.

but that even didn’t matter because around lap 14, it was all i could do to keep stepping. because the bottom of my foot started burning. burning the burning burn of death. it felt like my seam of my sock had twisted around and started rubbing the bottom of my foot with a fury of a thousand suns.

(remember…hyperbolic.)

i thought about stopping. i really did. but then i was like…one more lap. and then rihanna’s “please don’t stop the music” came on and the music was pumping and then i only had one more lap and i just kept going and then i was done.

because apparently the fury of a thousand suns is preferable to failing at life…again.

upshot of all of this:

i was wearing a hat so i looked cuter than i normally do, all sweaty like. also…hats=incognito, right? except when you’re the only one wearing a hat and you just told the internets about it. super.

i got the treadmill up to 3.9 and i didn’t fall off the end of it. i’m on a mission to see just how fast i can go without running.

i burned a bajillion calories. i just looked. lotsa.

i got home just in time for gilmore girls. yes, that’s twice in one day.  shut up.

i get to buy new shoes because there was nothing wrong with the socks. i’m pretty sure the nikes that i’ve had for a while now are just not up for the challenge. i guess, given the choice of not getting filmed or shoe shopping (even if it is for dumb workout shoes and not adorable patterned flats), i’ll take shoe shopping.

anyday.