items 21 and 40.

21. Buy a couch.

40. Find a new apartment.

Done and done. It is funny how things work out sometimes. I have been looking for a new apartment ever since August 9th and I tell you, just when you stop searching, calling and visiting, you find one that is just right. Not perfect, but right.

This new place is much smaller than the apartment I’ve been in for the past two years, but also much cheaper than what I’m currently paying. I’d like to call it cozy or full of compromises possibilities.

• Beautiful, large windows in the living room to let in the natural light = cheaper electric bill.
• A fireplace in the living room = perfect location to display the giant photograph of myself (I’m conceited, I’ve got a reason).
• No tub = HUGE disappointment but I must remind myself that I will have a place to shower at the end of each and every day. Who doesn’t sit down in the shower occasionally?
• Mini oven and fridge = smaller portion sizes. We all know I need a little bit of this in my life. (no joke, I gasped! when I saw the size of the oven and asked, “but how will I be able to cook my french fries.” yes Jona, they do indeed sell *smaller baking sheets)

And the perk that I am looking most forward to? Painting. I have lived in white walls with a lack of anything hung for the past two years thanks to my lovely, current landlord. This will be changing- very quickly. Paint can change the whole mood of a room. (insert cozy-ness… now) I’m psyched to say the least.

Oh, and I will be making my first big-girl purchase in a while: a couch. Also, for the past two years I have lived without a couch. Not a problem when you are living by yourself in a studio-ish type of apartment, but now with a living room, I’d like one. Not only for aesthetics, but for cuddling. I told you this blog was about to get sappy. Don’t hate on my happiness. I’ll surely post photographs once it’s delivered.

And now, this remaining portion of the program will be dedicated to my “old” apartment. You were my first and will probably always be my favorite. (insert tears. I’m seriously starting to cry):

• Oh, hardwood floors. You added wonderful charm and sense of home. You also made for easy clean up when Roscoe decided his litter box wasn’t suffice.
  

  I has my Christmas tree, mom.

• Oh, kitchen. You didn’t have any storage but plenty of natural light, mini french doors and a big ‘ol sink. I learned I could leave the dishes for weeks on end, but unlike home, they wouldn’t get magically washed. I made a lot of good meals, a few bad ones, but a lot of memories.
  

  this day was a whirlwind of emotions.

• Oh, bathroom. I’m pretty sure I have the smallest sink in the world. And the best tub. I soaked in you for a least one evening a week, woke up to the natural light (and sometimes breeze) each morning, and enjoyed the shelf for all my girly products (and there are at least fifteen things up there). I cried, slept and thought about life in that tub and also made a new friend (you know who you are). You are my favorite place in the whole joint.
  

  changes in product, but not the view.

• Oh, freedom of being nakey. C’mon. Everyone loves to be nakey and when you realize that you can do ANYTHING nakey when you live alone, it is an amazing discovery.
  

  you seriously thought I'd put a nakey photograph of myself up? just visit my facebook for that, Snaggletooth 641.

• Oh, front porch with rocking chairs. You were peaceful enough for me to read a book. Or enjoy a meal. You were the place I karate- chopped through the front window. And threw numerous fits. But more importantly, you were there for first kisses and invites.
  

  little journal/organization time.

When I first moved into that apartment I had high hopes that someone else would too be joining me. And every day since the move in, and more recently after the breakup, I don’t like returning home alone. Not because I’m alone, but because I know what the “plan” for that apartment was. I need this fresh start. A new beginning- one without a plan. A new location where no one can find me unless I invite you in. A home away from home.

This couch will be my first step coming to terms that I am no longer living at home with my parents, nor will I be going back (fingers crossed people). Instead of treating this apartment like a dropping ground for all of my belongings like I did for my first, I will try to make it a little piece of me. After all, I am paying for it, so I should be enjoying it to it’s fullest potential. There will be a few DIY projects, probably a few frustrations, and much down-sizing and I can’t wait to share them all.

How about you? Have you ever had to physically move to start anew?

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great case of the Mondays.

Dear Ho Ho: I must have been a very good girl this year because I woke up to many gifts under the tree. My personal favorite: the book I had mentioned months ago that I had completely forgotten about. I can’t put it down. Dear Lil Sis: Sorry I snapped at you and told you to shut up. But seriously, I know how to wash my face. Love you. Dear Old Hag at Ghetto Chopper: I’m sorry for calling you an old hag, especially during the holidays. It is very un-lady like of me.

Dear Guys on Facebook who Continue to Poke Me: Alright. That’s it. Quit it. I’m flattered that you find me somewhat attractive; whether it be my looks or awesome sense of humor or writing skills or bingo habits or, well the list goes on. But seriously, you poke me on CHRISTMAS and your profile picture is that of you with YOUR GIRLFRIEND?! And I know it is your girlfriend because your relationship status tells me so. I dare you to do it again and I’m going to screen shot the page and personally inbox it to your girlfriend. I think you’re forgetting that my ex-boyfriend cheated on me… if I can somehow call other PIGS out on it, you better believe I’m gonna.

Woah. Had to get that one off my chest.

these little jars are scattered throughout my apartment.

Today was just what I needed. Being back in Troy, I got together with one of my friends to exchange gifts, well, open my gift. I had surprised them on Saturday by “hiding” my gift, so today was my turn. And with yesterday’s post about the heart-shaped necklace, I couldn’t have been any happier with what I found in that little holiday bag. Personalized honeybee notecards. Simple. Adorable. And perfectly me. It was a small gesture but had big meaning; this person gets me. I like cards. I have a HUGE thing for honeybees. Can you tell I’m grinning from ear to ear?

smiling. it's my favorite.

Note: that is bed head.

The day wasn’t a complete loss. Although I did stay in bed for the majority of the time (my throat hurts, my eyes are achy and I’m stuffy), I did get out for a walk of fresh air and had a delicious sushi lunch. I know, I know. I didn’t want to eat out. But I couldn’t help it. I’ve got to rest up because tomorrow officially starts my six weeks to get back into shape before marathon training begins. Lucky me. Seriously. No better time than now to get moving again. And not because of the new year.

I’m not one for setting resolutions with the new year; I prefer resolutions on the start of my new year; my birthday. I’ve already begun thinking about what it will be and what wish I will wish as I blow out all twenty-six candles. It’s going to be a rockin’ Monday evening.

How about you? Have a special gift that you received that is totally you? And you cherish?

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party of one.

I was doing perfectly fine this holiday season until I went to… the ghetto chopper. This place seriously never fails me. (insert confession: I know I promised that I would blog each and every day of my vacation mentioning what I was eating and the recipes, but I failed. This, I know. And as a side note, I only ate ONE breakfast sandwich. Any who, I was trying to keep myself busy and distracted… from being single.) Back to ghetto chopper. I had been going just about every single day this past week getting fresh ingredients (or a box of pop tarts) for my fresh meals. While in the express line after picking up some collard greens, scallions and avocados, I decided to scoop up a bouquet of pretty little orange roses… for myself. Why the fuck not?

• A) They were pretty.
• B) They smelled pretty.
• C) I’m deserving of a bouquet of damn roses.

Well, that’s when it happened. The old hag behind me kindly pointed out that orange is not a holiday color and that if I wanted to impress my mother, I should get the holiday bouquet of carnations and ferns. Seriously? She seriously had to point that out in the express lane? I then quickly snapped back that they weren’t for my mother but for… me. And that’s when things got ugly; on the inside. This old hag then turned to her husband and said, “poor thing is all alone… she doesn’t have any one to buy her flowers.”

Uh… since when do I need a man to buy me flowers? I mean, I do have a job with benefits and can afford all of my monthly expenses… I can buy a pair of shoes monthly from ShoeDazzle but not a dozen roses? That’s just not right.

And as much as I try to not let comments like that get to me, it did. And that’s when I realized that it was December 23rd; the day before Christmas Eve. The day before the date in which I would have been officially celebrating my seventh year with the ex-boyfriend. Two days before the morning I would wake up, wishing to be snuggled up next to a human, instead of the family pit bull.

It’s easy to tell myself to not dwell on what could or should have been, but it is easier said than done. I’ve had great distractions over the past two months but I’m realizing that I might not be over this whole past relationship like I thought I was. I’m still grieving what use to be and what I had come to take for granted, or maybe what had become tradition.

I made it easier on myself and drove home Christmas Eve to be with family so that I wasn’t locked up crying my little eyes out; which turned out to be a wonderful idea. The night was filled with me reffing the couples in the room playing couple board games, wine, so many laughs, shots!, inappropriate sex jokes from my mom, wine, take-out pizza, more laughs and a sappy conversation with my dad. It’s funny how someone’s true character comes out when they’re drunk; my dad, genuinely sappy. He waited until everyone left the room to ask me if I was happy. He then went on to tell me pretty much that I was a kick-ass kind of girl and that I deserve the world. I almost broke down only because I could see that he would truly give up anything to make me happy. I told him I was happily dating but my mom oh-so-kindly reminded me as she re-entered the room that it has only been two months and that she hasn’t met any potential guys. I kindly reminded her that it has only been two months…

No matter how many months it has been, it’s going to take more than that to move on from the past ten years. Lucky for me, I continue to be supported by friends who understand my minor breakdowns and always remind me to rebuild. And this I don’t have a problem with. What I continue to struggle with is the noise in my head reminding me of what use to be. I try so hard to forget each daily remembrance, but there continue to be so many. And this time of the year is surely not helping.

So if you see me in line, please don’t ask who the flowers, book, extra breakfast sandwich or coffee is for. Just smile and tell me that I’m doing the right thing, because really, this sure does feel like it could be a good thing.

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a very single Christmas.

Tis the season to load up on red wine and re-runs of The Biggest Loser to keep one entertained during the holiday weekend.

Okay, maybe not that much red wine. Kidding!

As December quickly approached us, so did my positive attitude that the holiday season wouldn’t be that bad as a first time single gal. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. Don’t get me wrong, I was not wearing the “hater” badge until about two days ago when I realized what day of the month it actually was. Yes, winter is a wonderful season and I tried to embrace it one hundred percent but it definitely was not the best part of my year. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to be full of spirit because let’s be honest, it is exhausting to be so festive; from the different themed parties to the fact that I had to spend two full days with my family. Yes, I love them to pieces. But no, I don’t want to smile all day and I don’t want to play board games all damn day. Yes, pass me another glass of wine so that I can drown out that oh-so-worn-out Kay Jewelers commercial. If by the time I’m middle-aged and in a relationship and the only thing my partner can think to get me is ANOTHER heart-shaped necklace, I’m running. I know beggers can’t be chosers but c’mon, I’d be pissed if that was the only thing he could come up with. I’d rather be alone than have to pretend to like that thing.

crazy Christmas cat lady.

I avoided little activities that would remind me that I was single seeing as I knew I couldn’t drown them out with alcohol due to their location, well, in public. You know? Take the holiday lights in the park for instance. If you live in the Capital District, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Thousands upon thousands of lights strung in beautiful displays that just make couples want to hold hands and spin in their glow, while the rest of us watch from the side secretly hoping that they throw up all over each other. Oh… I’m the only one thinking that? Nothing shows the magic of the season like projectile vomit.

After proofreading this post, I realized that I do kind of sound like an alcoholic. Yes, more alcohol is being consumed but I do realize the hangovers are just as real now as they were last month. It is colder out and I haven’t completely given up on my personal well-being: I have continued to shave my legs and I have not eaten a single cookie this entire month. I’ve definitely got some explaining to do as to why this suddenly hit me but until I decide to share them, join me for another round and please, keep the public displays of affection under your new pashmina wraps…

 

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reason number seven why I’m single.

I’m that girl who…

• Releases all of her built up frustrations on the oh-so-popular media site… auto correcting everyone’s spelling errors. I don’t want to come off as this stuck up spelling queen but it really is a pet peeve of mine to see people misrepresenting themselves or their businesses. I’m not even really polite about it, I admit that. I also admit that I am not the best speller, but let’s take a hint people: the red line under the word means it’s misspelled!
• I’m that bitch at the end of the highway that won’t let others merge into the designated lanes. This is my philosophy on the topic: I worked hard to get to the spot I’m currently taking up. You on the other hand thought you could skip the whole line and merge over oh-so impatiently. And just because your red Ford pickup truck could roll over my little Fit, I’m not afraid of you. Nor will I let you butt the line. Instead, I’ll flash you a smile and gesture with my thumb to get back. Yeah, I said it. Get back.
• Speaking of buts, I’m that twenty-something year old that still giggles about specific words when the professor says them or writes them on the whiteboard. Just last Monday I contained myself until the last few moments when I had to ask if he wrote “but bubbles” on the graph that was already confusing to read. Confirmed, it was but bubbles. I still don’t know why he wrote but in front of bubbles but we all had a good chuckle (and apparently I was the only one that had the nerve to say it out loud). But bubbles… in investments? Ha!
• Eats her medium-sized McDonald’s french fries in the car. And then feels the need to confess to everyone in fear that she smells like the medium-sized french fries. All I can say is, I couldn’t help it. I seriously and openly admit that I judge people who eat fast food but sometimes completely succumb to the craving and purchase it myself. I think they (as in the fast food companies) put chemicals in those fries that FUCK with my body and make me crave them at the most random times. It’s like crack. I seriously feel bad for the future father of my children because if I can’t control it now, who knows what heck he’ll be forced to go pick up for me in the middle of the night when I have a little craving.
• Takes a photograph of herself while extremely trashed… and on the toilet. There is nothing flattering about these bathroom shots nor do people really want to know what you look like while you’re doing the deed. Bathroom goer beware: not only do I photograph myself, but others. Especially if you are doing something scandalous (like peeing in a sink) and then I’ll tag you on the oh-so-popular media site. Yes, I would be mortified if you did this to me. No, I don’t mean to do it on purpose. Yes, all I can say is that I can’t help it.

freckle on the thumb.

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a perfect fit, and no, not my car.

Warning: mini rants are about to happen.

The idea of this post came to me over the weekend while I was visiting my family. All was calm in the living room until my sister came running in yelling, “Oh em gee. Could this person not be more obnoxious? I don’t care that you have a boyfriend and that you two are perfect and that he makes your life complete and that you are dying without him.” And I couldn’t agree more. And she’s in a serious relationship people.

What I’m referring to are those friends on the oh-so-popular media site that update their statuses like fifteen times a day and include a little tidbit about being in love with their partner. I get it, you’re in love. But I got it after like the third post. If you are my friend, it’s likely that I’ve stalked your page and saw that you’re in a relationship. No need to blow up my news feed with updates like, “I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND AND HOW HE ALWAYS MAKES MY DAY!!!!!!! ♥ ♥” or “CANT WAIT TO BE TOGETHER AGAIN!!!!!” or “Then running some errands with boyfriend (insert smiley face).” Yes, these were stolen off of actual walls… I didn’t know parents were now naming their sons Boyfriend.

I must make a disclosure and say that this is not the single me raging out against these posts, it’s the concerned friend that’s calling you out as being pathetic. Really, every. single. post? Maybe try taking a more conservative route and message your boyfriend, privately. Or put up the song lyrics that you, eh, made out to last evening, that could be fun. I’m not judging your relationship or commitment to that person by the number of times you mention them on a daily basis. If this were a competition, woah, a few of you would be the winners.

And all this talk about partners and how they are the “perfect fit,” insert pet peeve number two: there is noperfect fit. Or at least in my world. And I don’t mean to sound obnoxious or rude but seriously, if you need someone to feel complete, real or even feel in this world, then I feel bad for you. I get that you may not be as independent as others but not being able to feel whole as who you are as a person on your own is something you should master before trying to introduce another human being into the mix.

what a beautiful mess.

I think there is a huge difference between being the perfect fit with someone and being perfectly comfortable with someone. I want to be comfortable with that other person in my life but not to the point that we don’t push each other’s boundaries. I’ve learned from my previous relationship that I like turbulence, actually love it. And it gets to the point that if I’m bored or not challenged by this person, I create problems aka picking a fight about anything and everything. Having someone in my life that is my perfect fit and understands me 100% of the time is less appealing, boring actually. I want to be with a person who will not only fight with me, but fight for me and my relationship because they want to see things work out the following day once things have cooled down.

I guess what I’m saying is I don’t want to just fall for the next person that comes into my life. And then just settle in comfortably into the “perfect fit.” I want to meet someone that I want to work to know each day and why they do certain things, and vice versa. I don’t want them to assume that they know everything about me within six months and forget to ask me why? Why do I have a fear of suffocating when closely sleeping next to someone? Why don’t I take out the trash every week? Why don’t I change my own oil after each six thousand miles when I must have seen it done a bazillion times? I know it doesn’t sound like the stereotypical fairytale, but I don’t want to fall in love and be done. I want to fall each and every day. And still feel those butterflies in the pit of your stomach when it happens.

My life as a new single gal is constantly changing and is sometimes, more often than not, a mess. I want to find someone that is comfortable with not only me but the mess that brings the two of us together. He doesn’t have to love all of the things that make me a mess but who I am because of it. The fitting together part will come eventually over time.

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you know I’m single when…

• I’ve been wearing the same outfit all weekend and then try to pull it off Monday at the office.
• the guy I’m dating is now the guy I’m hating because the time spent with him is interfering with the time I should be at Dino drinking or watching Sons of Anarchy.

 

BINGO! blues.

 

• I spend the majority of my time looking through the holiday Victoria Secret’s catalogue and then remember all of the items I bought last season are still in a bag on the top shelf of my closet because I still  don’t have someone to wear them for (it is not, let me repeat, there is nothing sexy about wearing those pieces for yourself while at home alone, indulging in waffle fries).
• the employees at I Love know my order, whether it be at six in the evening or four in the morning.
• I’m personally offended when the local liquor store is out of my $8 jug of Runite Raspberry.
• I can’t be separated from my cell phone although I’m not texting anyone; because you never know when that hot, strange, single man will text or message you on the oh-so-popular social media site.
• my dead lavender plant makes me feel as guilty as my mom.
• I name my pet a guy’s name, so that when my new acquaintances ask why I must leave so soon, I can respond “oh, Sam is waiting for me.” Because that’s not pathetic at all until they realize Sam is my dead lavender plant.
• the highlight of my day is finding out my favorite snack is on sale at the market, and knowing, I’m not going to have to share.
• I keep making promises that I don’t intend on keeping, like “oh yeah, I’ll totally meet up with you on a Thursday night for a drink although I do remember that you never spoke to me once in high school and I vaguely remember hearing that you lost your license so I’ll have to chauffeur you around like a taxi.”

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born to be wild.

Dear Melissa (the stay at home mom from the blog another lunch): It’s official. I’m addicted. Someone close to me please oh please oh please have a baby so that I can send them off each day with the cutest bentos, ever. Dear Spring-like Weather: You’re such a tease now that daylight savings has ended. Just when I get out of work to enjoy you, its dark. It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of the dark. Or running in it. Dear Rules of Dating: Where exactly is this entire list located? Because apparently I keep breaking them and I need to brush up on them, asap.

oh how I adore you, baby.

This past weekend was jam-packed with a bunch of fun. And bad behavior. But I couldn’t help it. And as the lyrics go, “so what we go out, that’s how it’s supposed to be, living young and wild and free…” and I’m single.

Friday night was date night! I like the sound of that, date night. And I’m not cringing or clinging to the side of a bathtub. I was debating about whether or not to include this tidbit of information, but I couldn’t resist. I had a wonderful time. We started off at Bacchus– the delicious wood fire pizza place downtown– I had never been but it was cozy. And despite my love of food, I broke rule number one: by not eating much. In my defense however, after last week’s event I didn’t have much of an appetite. But the pizza was great, as was the conversation. Then we were off to Footsie Magoo’s…

Where I apparently broke the ultimate rule: two drink maximum on a first date. In my defense, I couldn’t help it. Those vodka tonics were so tasty and the skeeball competition was fierce. Just when you thought I did the unthinkable…

I brought my date to The Ruck. This wasn’t intentional. And was not what I had planned, but after all, I hadn’t planned anything for the evening so I just let it be. I kindly gave a forewarning that it was my favorite hole-in-the wall place and that it was nothing like Footsies. I don’t think he was prepared for what we walked into. Almost every single guy that I’ve ever met out in public was out that night, at The Ruck. And wanted to say hi. In my defense, I’m a social person. I did respect my date and stayed close by, tucked into our seat on the wall.

I finally remembered that not only did my date have to work in the morning, but I had a baby shower to attend… and could not be hung over for.  We left early and walked the chilly walk back to my apartment. Nope. I was good and did not break the rule of inviting him in on the first date, but I did break a personal rule of not kissing on the first date. In my defense, I couldn’t help it. And bounded back into my apartment all excited and unable to sleep; where I indulged in something I love oh-so much: crinkle fries. Romantic right? Oh it topped off the evening, and morning when I woke up to Roscoe begging for breakfast and me realizing that I had fallen asleep on my love seat, on top of the plate of fries. And ketchup.

Before I knew it, I was on the road heading homey home for the day. My sister apparently couldn’t wait to see me because she gave me a call on the way to:

1. Ensure that I was not hung over and on the road.
2. Hear about the previous night’s details because she saw that I had posted a status at like four in the morning. Snoop.

That’s when I was informed I broke all the rules of dating in one night. Thanks little sister, way to make a girl feel confident. Before I knew it, I was home and rolling on the floor laughing, literally, over the wrap job she had done/was doing for a Bumbo gift. If you don’t know what that is, Google it. I had seen a friend wrap one twice, perfectly, and I have no clue how she did it. I remember shouting out at one point “look it up on Youtube!” With my mom hollering back from another room “you kids can’t do anything without that damn computer.” We put her to the challenge and she failed. Wah.

oh, I looked fabulous.

Oh! Here’s that card I had mentioned about a week ago that I had gotten downtown at Design it Together but didn’t want to spoil it for the p-rents. My mom was harassing me for spending more than five minutes writing congratualtions on the inside. Me: That’s boring. Mom: Oh, that’s what I put on the inside. Naomi: Let’s hope no one else spent more that five minutes browsing the internet for quotes and chose the same one.

Saturday night was filled with wine, Ruck time, a DJ that still refuses to play my “ghetto” selections, a mini dance party in house, chocolate covered pretzel shots out of a hospital pee holder? delicious leftover pasta and social media site stalking at about five in the morning. Which resulted in me missing the JETS! game, three slices of iLove pizza and staying up until four in the morning watching Netflix and taking multiple bubble baths. ‘Cause I could.

the second photograph was far more disturbing.

Living young and wild and free… and single.

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the little things Ke$ha taught me about being single.

Confession time: Yes, I have Ke$ha’s full Animal + Cannibal album on my classic iPod. Yes, I stumbled upon it after about forty-five minutes of practicing in the bathroom for my Halloween costume (well, old one. I’m no longer going to be Lil Wayne). And yes, I listened to the entire album.

Second confession of the day: When Googling the different lyrics for the chosen songs, I discovered that Ke$ha is white. No joke. I had no clue.

you waste your breath talking about me.

1. Although frequenting a place that she describes most like Waterworks sounds like a spectacular time (and it typically is), this is not the ideal place to be picking up your next date that you’d potentially like to bring home to meet mom. And although I don’t give a _____ about taking my clothes off in public, one should remain lady-like and wait until at least the third date (just kidding, mom). Warning: the water bottle filled with whiskey is not going to help refrain you from making ridiculous drunk phone calls at five a.m. (song: Take it Off)
2. I swear this song is the story of my life: acting like a slut when I was gone [the ex-boyfriend was acting like one with Frienemy 641 while I was in China]. Okay, back to what I’ve learned or what my readers should learn about me: if you’re dating me, I’m going to find out if you cheated on me. At some point, somehow. And if you were stupid enough to kiss n tell at least one peson, I’m going to blog n tell. Everyone. (song: Kiss N Tell)
3. Crying out “Steeeeephen. Steeeeeephen. Why won’t you call me?” in that annoying voice is only going to creep him out even more and cause him not to want to call you. In addition, making any of the following comments do indeed result in him thinking you’re crazy: you’re my sick obsession, I’m sitting here waiting, I can’t take rejection, don’t you think I’m pretty, do you not love me? Take note Frienemy 641; he never called you back, right? (song: Stephen)
4. If you are waking up the next morning realizing that your one-night-stand is gone and you don’t know whether or not you’re in love or just hungover, you should not be hooking up with anyone. Ever. You my girl friend, are the exact reason why guys think one-night stands can never be a one-night stand with a female. (song: Hungover)
5. You all know how I feel about my boots in this autumn weather; I might actually pick my pair of black wedges over boys these days. I’d much rather be sipping on a tall glass of red wine partaking in a mini photo shoot with my iPhone and knee highs than sitting at the bar listening to some story about a recent trip to the gym. (song: Boots and Boys)
6. There is a huge difference between the potential hottie that’s going to buy you a shot and fulfill every one of your dreams on the dance floor and an old man. Don’t pull the lesbian card ladies, just tell him to get back to the museum. (song: Dinosaur)

Reminder! If you’re looking to win that super rad print from Design it Together, you need to click on over to the blog’s Facebook page and like it! (shortcut on the right)

What’s the most embarrassing album you have on your iPod?

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feta cheese crumbles; I don’t.

Dear Laura, Naomi, Vincent, Jessica, Stephanie, Craig, Tony and Nicole (and anyone else that participated): thank you! thank you! thank you! I won that $30 gift card to Fiat Feminae thanks to ya’ll; I cannot wait to go splurge on myself. Dear I Love NY Pizza: I mean, I always knew that you had a purpose in my life and this past weekend it was preventing a major hangover. Dear Ex-Boyfriend: how dare you.

It’s funny how I have this HUGE list of everything I want to write about and the order in which I want to post them and then BAM! Something happens in my personal life that takes priority and I have the urgency to share. So, here it goes.

I can only continue to thank every single person in my life that has remained positive and has stood by my side these past couple of months or so. And I want to thank every single person that has taken the time out of their day to call me, send me an email or a message on the oh-so-popular media site because with you all, this is beginning to become easier with each passing day. And for those of you who continue to ask me how I’m doing, here’s a little update.

I’m perfectly fine without him in my life. Yes, I am very lonely at times. Yes, I miss our little rituals. Yes, I still think about him frequently, but I am no longer counting the days. Sometimes when I do think of him, I’m amazed at how long it had been since my last thought or memory. And only recently am I happy when reminded of our relationship– maybe because the two of us have not been in contact with each other for many weeks now.

I do have a confession though; I have been trying to reach out to him. A very sticky situation presented itself about two weeks ago with Frienemy 641 and I’ve been trying to grab his attention/insight, but to no success. Many people have asked me what I was planning on saying to him, and to be honest, I hadn’t a clue. But then I stopped. And I think he noticed…

Because just like that, after two months of silence between the two of us, he sent a single message that knocked me down. And it wasn’t that it was rude. Or mean. Or even hostile. It was just plain unnecessary. I hadn’t shed a tear for weeks and within moments of seeing the message, I was on the phone with a friend talking myself through what was running through my head. And his messages continued as I ignored them. My number one question that I was asking myself:

1. Does he honestly think I’m that stupid? We ended on very bad terms- his personal decision, and I could only respect his wishes and walk away. But does he honestly think that after ignoring me for two months and then reaching out that I’d go running back? Because I can reassure each and every one of you followers that I am not. And will not. And never will.

I’m not saying that I will never forgive him– I have yet to– but I will never be able to be a part of his life as his significant other. I will never put myself into that same situation that betrayed me. I have never felt so sure of something before in my life when referring to a person that I was so sure would never put me into this situation.

Other than the *minor* breakdown last evening, my life has been wonderful. For many reasons…

Friday I participated in another fashion show for Fashionable Chic Traveling Boutique! This night consisted of: white wine, fabulous jewelry from Stella & Dot, no underwears, sneak mascara, long talks, new friends (and a fun fan!) and tons of laughter!

such a fun group of women... we ROCK!

brown. blonde. red. muah.

pumpkin spice martini and nachos love.

Saturday I spent the majority of the day in class presenting for my capstone course but luckily we are well on our way and December is quickly approaching. The remainder of the evening and well into Sunday consisted of: amazing friends, wine, nerds (favorite Halloween candy), all of RPI alumni crowded into the Ruck, multiple random pitchers of beer, more dancing, visiting the guys at iLove, and a mini- sleepover.

club Riunite.

staying classy.

even classier.

Yeah, it was a fabulous weekend. Oh! And it’s Autumn… my favorite season.

I have the best commute to work, ever.

So there’s my update. I’m staying busy. I’m staying positive. I’m staying true to me and loyal to those in my life.

 

 

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