4 New Nuggets of Wisdom

It’s been a while since I blogged, but instead of rambling on with apologies, I’m just gonna go ahead with my post.
I realized a few things this week.

1.)    My room really wreaked of cat. I’m back “home” now (read: Knox, NY), and working on unpacking the contents of my station wagon, which include . . . well, all my worldly possessions.

I had a pretty big room in Kutztown, so I didn’t really notice that Kennedy had laid upon every single square inch, leaving a distinct kitty-cat scent. But once all my stuff was packed into my Subaru, I observed the feline funk. Fast-forward three days: It hasn’t stopped raining since I landed in Upstate NY, so I haven’t been able to really give unpacking a fair shake. But every once in a while, the clouds part, and I’m able to steal a box or two away from Big Mama and hurry them inside. Every time I crack the trunk open, I get a waft of kitten. Note to self: Bathe Kennedy more frequently.
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Cute or Creepy?

I spent the first half of the weekend in Philadelphia visiting Boyf, and as always we had a verbal sparring match deep philosophical conversation about a random topic. One of my BFFs has recently had a shudder-worthy experience. And while I told him I was thoroughly skeeved out by it, he maintained there was something sweet about what happened to her.

Two weeks ago, BFF was sent a dozen roses at her home address with a letter signed from Her Secret Admirer. The roses were then followed with daisies, left one at a time.

I say: Creepy. She has a boyfriend, and he wasn’t the one who sent them. So this is clearly unwanted attention. Not to mention, if they’re sent to her home address, that’s a pretty clear invasion of her personal bubble. Should this Wanna-Be Don Juan even know where she lives?

Boyf says: Cute. Guys are always being told to take risks and be romantic — that women really like the occasional bouquet of flowers. That’s what we see in the movies anyway, and it always works there. (I pointed out that he shouldn’t get me started on the false realities portrayed in romantic comedies i.e. a size-2 leading lady with perfect hair and a never-empty wallet)

Then the other night, I was on my way home from work, and decided to stop at the supermarket and make myself a little din-din from the salad bar. Sketchy McSalad Guy happened to be hovering by the spinach when he commented that I “sure look pretty.”

I say: Creepy. Sure, it’s nice to have someone say I look good, or otherwise compliment me, but sometimes the way its said can be unsettling. Had he said something else first, maybe I wouldn’t have run away to the fruit bar. I used this example: It’s perfectly fine when the guy at the Dunkin’ Donuts drive-thru comments that he likes my hair curly on the odd days that I wear it that way. He and I have a connection. He knows I like four Splendas in my cuppa, and we’re on a first-name basis. Had he done this the first day, however, I would have found myself a new Dunkin Dealer.

Boyf says: Cute. If the guy had been attractive (I told Boyf that Sketchy McSalad Guy was about a 4.0) I might have talked to him. And how the hell is a guy supposed to start a conversation with a girl anyway? Talk about the weather? Comment on how crisp the spinach is looking today? (I thought these would’ve been great alternatives . . .)

So what do you think? Am I being over-sensitive? Are guys just given a hard task in trying to strike up romance and small-talk? And are my friends and I just being over-sensitive?

A Sad, Sad Day

Look, I get it that she’s matured. I embrace it. Yes, I loved her Candy days – but let’s be honest she was 15 back then. And I was 13 – so she should have been singing stuff like that and I should have been listening. Then she was 20, singing Carol King, and as an 18 year old, I totally dug it. Fast forward another couple years – she’s 23, I’m 21, and she comes out with her new folksy album Wild Hope. Continue reading

Us Against Them Is Not-So Dead and Gone

I haven’t been posting lately, for which I apologize. I’ve been a tired little girl, falling asleep at nine or ten o’clock every day, meaning I have traded in my blogging me time for listening-to-the-radio-in-the-car-on-my-way-home-from-work me time. And I have to say I’ve enjoyed being in-the-know about what’s out there in the land of pop music. Because let’s be honest, I love the same music as most 14 year old girls. Continue reading

Top 10 Signs I’m Getting Old . . .

Pam, Heather, Maggie on the South Campus Bus

Pam, Heather, Maggie on the South Campus Bus

10.) I actually bought a vacuum last night. Not only had I made price comparisons and a bit of research beforehand, but I was thrilled to find that the actual vacuum I wanted was on sale. I’m counting it as the best purchase I’ve made all month . . . Sigh. Remember the days when that title went to a bangin’ new purse or that new kind of mascara Drew Barrymore’s always talking about? (p.s. I love that mascara!) Continue reading

I Am Such A Bum

It's Been A Rough Weekend

It's Been A Rough Weekend

It’s been quite the weekend.

Saturday I woke up without heat or hot water. Awesome. I called a repairman, who told me it would be about 5 or 6 hours before he could white-horse it to my rescue. In the mean time, my cute little farmhouse turned into a frosty deathbox, growing colder by the minute. Continue reading

Rain or Shine

It’s almost Super Bowl time, and I’m in a prime location. This year, for a limited time only, Maggie G is broadcasting live from Pennsylvania. I’m living just outside of Allentown, which puts me in prime Eagles territory. And I have to tell you, I’m excited at the prospect of an all-Pennsylvania showdown. Continue reading