This latest debacle is all my own fault, really. I succumbed to a potent combination of temptation and vanity. Play with fire (or UV bulbs) and you’re bound to get burned.
That’s right, I have been going tanning.
Maybe I am just too critical (heh, “maybe”) but I have always considered indoor tanning a relatively trashy activity. It’s one thing to get a nice tan in the summer when you’re outside playing sports, traveling, or just lounging by the pool, but committing to cooking your skin via manufactured UV rays is so… ugh. I mean, we all know it’s bad for you. We all know it can give you leather face. We all know it can give you cancer. And hey, we live in Washington, everyone is pale the majority of the year. It seems pretty unnecessary to me. I put tanning on par with like, acrylic nails. Almost everyone will assume it’s fake, so why bother?
Having said that…
You get to lay naked, listen to dumb music, and feel warm. Then you look more attractive. While the longterm effects are negative, it’s a good source of semi-instant gratification. Indoor tanning is, admittedly, a fun activity. Not that I think “fun” is a valid excuse in this instance (in almost any other, I think it is, though). And there’s that old argument that tanning indoors before spending time in the sun is more “safe” because you’re in a “controlled environment”… I don’t know where I stand on that aspect of the issue, but I do know that I am going to Miami in about two weeks and don’t want to look gross and pale. Armed with this motivation, last week I took a field trip to my local Desert Sun to get some color, and to use a phrase that immediately irritates me, “build a base.”
This is the most offensive tanning-related picture I found on Google Images, so of course I chose it.
I have indulged in Mystic Tan before (for Vegas!) and conventional tanning (for Spain!) in the past. I am unfortunately both judgmental and shallow; apparently my shallowness is the stronger of these two personal qualities I boast. But I judge myself the entire time I do something shallow. It’s a vicious cycle. ANYway, of course the 18 year old girl in the Victoria’s Secret sweatsuit could sense my inclination to sink tons of money into “investments” that are obviously bad and useless, so I ended up with a “Premiere Membership.” Fantastic. It was the part about getting to use the bronzer beds at no extra cost, plus a free Mystic, plus she’d throw in yet another free Mystic “just for you because you’re being so good about signing up for everything right off the bat!”… girl, do NOT encourage me. The membership has a $20 sign-up fee (what? WHY) and costs $60 per month or something offensive like that. Then add the lotions (“because you have to have lotion, it really amps up your tan!”) and I was signing a receipt for $97! For two weeks of base-building?! This is an outrage. But the person I should be outraged with is myself, because I let it happen. Sometimes situations are so ridiculous and wasteful that I feel compelled to ride them out, no matter what the personal or financial damage. This is the same reason I love Indian casinos. There is something psychologically wrong with me.
Then to add insult to injury (well, if we’re being literal, injury to insult) I have gone three times this week, once for five minutes and twice for six minutes. Pretty weak, but wouldn’t you know it? Yesterday I started to feel weirdly hot and itchy after my session (ew, two adjectives you really don’t want to apply to yourself in the same context) and… what up, GIGANTIC SUNBURN! What the hell! I thought tanning was supposed to deter your skin from burning! I EVEN USED THE DAMN LOTION! I didn’t have this issue before Europe last year. Once again: WHY.
Am I still going back? Well, yeah, I paid for a month of unlimited premiere membership, you bet I’m getting my $97 worth. For the next two weeks, I am going to smell like fake coconut lotion and carry those awkward tanning goggles in my purse. Secretly. Abashedly. I’d also like to add that I sometimes put the music in the room on the “Mexican fiesta station” so with my eyes closed I can feel like I’m tanning on the beach, naturally. I haven’t been able to trick myself yet, but the shame spiral has to end somewhere. Maybe the UV rays will fry my brain, too, then I can stop feeling so embarrassed of this new – albeit temporary – hobby.
I still vow to never get fake nails, the fact that I have abstained for 24 years and counting is the one shred of dignity I can still cling to.
I spent a wonderful morning reading, re-reading, and pondering the words of one of my favorite modern writers, Chuck Klosterman. (On a sidenote, Chuck Palahniuk is another one of my ultimates. Interestingly, “Chuck” is one of my least favorite male names. Hm.) The last essay, “FAIL,” in Klosterman’s Eating the Dinosaur addresses the topic of technology and its damaging aspects on our lives (among other things, of course). One quote in particular bothers me – because of its accuracy.
“The degree to which anyone values the Internet is proportional to how valuable the Internet makes that person.”
How valuable does the internet make us? Well, let’s look at my peer group as a whole. Generally, we are all on Facebook. A significant portion of us use Twitter. A less significant portion of us maintain some sort of personal website, online journal, or blog. Like it or not, there is a critical aspect of our personas that must be maintained via the internet. I can only think of one close friend who does not have Facebook, and consequently, she is left out of party invites, inside jokes, even getting “tagged” in photos (therefore losing social relevance and recognition). In fact, she will probably never read this or be aware of its existence, because most of my personal friends find their way to my site after I post a link to a new piece on my Facebook wall. It is a pathetic, unreal micro-world, but it exists and we are all contributing to its power.
This is why our (assuming you, reading this, are in the same generation as me) parents and grandparents, as a general demographic, have not embraced the internet and especially social media the same way we have. It gives them little value. I bet for at least half of us, our parents still hardly understand how to check their voicemail or send a text message. They can try to get on Facebook, or read Twitter or browse Tumblr (if I ever caught my mom browsing Tumblr, however, I would die of shock), but it won’t hold the same significance for them than it does for us. They don’t care as much as we do, and these technologies don’t care as much about them.
How valuable does the internet make me? Maybe a little more valuable than most, even in my age group. I realize that sounds haughty and self-important, and I don’t mean to have it come off that way. But it goes back to my writing. It is one of the few independent activities I really find joy and release in (also sometimes intense frustration and futility, but let’s focus on the good), and while that may be enough for some, they are the ones who go vent in their paper journals and feel satisfied. I am extroverted in my thoughts and opinions; I want other people to know what I am thinking, even about the most mundane or unimportant topics, and even if they don’t agree. I thirst for fame and popularity! Since Random House isn’t exactly pounding down my door with an offer, where am I to go? Obviously, the internet, every amateur writer/critic’s haven. Let’s not pretend that I am even gaining real internet prominence for this blog (yet). HOWEVER. Do people I barely talk to in real life mention to me that they love my site? Yes. Do friends of friends who I am not even Facebook “friends” with read this? Yes. Have I encountered acquaintances who I assume despise me tell me they check this blog? Yes! For some of these people, do I really understand why? No. (Well, except for the fact that I am brilliant, of course.) I just know that some people reading is more than no people reading, and I will take the attention of some over the attention of none. My contributions and thoughts are at least enhancing some people’s lives, maybe just as five minutes of slightly clever entertainment, or even fodder for eye-rolling. This would not be possible without the internet. Therefore I hold more new media stock and am more “valuable” than, say, a girl from my high school who only posts pictures of herself, 30 pounds heavier and three shades tanner, taking shots at a bar in Eastern Washington. (In this case, “a girl” actually refers to “80% of girls” so if you are offended, at least take comfort in the fact you are not alone.)
I do value the internet. A lot, unfortunately. Not a day goes by that I do not check my Gmail, my Facebook, and yes I even have a Twitter even though I detest Twitter more than any other social media outlet. This brings up another relevant Klosterman quote, from the conclusion of his essay: “The Internet is not improving our lives. It’s making things (slightly) worse. But because I’m not free – because I am a slave to my own weakness – I can no longer imagine life without it. I love the Internet. I love the Internet. And I will probably love whatever technological firebomb comes next.” I do believe that the internet has, in ways, hindered my life. It has definitely robbed me of time. I am a slave to this iMac. I feel actual guilt if I do not respond to an email in a timely manner. I feel an intense obligation to keep up with a number of blogs. I am harangued by friends if I don’t post new pictures to Facebook albums after a social event. Despite all of this, I, too, love the internet. It has become such an integral aspect of our cultural networks and communication, without it I honestly do believe I would lose a great deal of value. It’s undeniable: the internet has become a crucial source of social capital.
That said, I’m off to post a link to this. On Facebook. Then obsessively check for comments for the next few hours.
Thanks, Chuck. I love the internet. I love the internet.
As of late, I have experienced a few unpleasant obstacles in the incredibly engaging, ongoing fantasy that is my life. Most people must think it’s a walk in the park to be Emily Teachout, but I’m here to tell you, it’s not. I may have the internet fame and fortune that many dream of yet will never attain, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have problems, too. One of my biggest problems right now is: sleep. This is a bad problem to have, because it’s not something you can really avoid or omit from your life. You need to sleep in every 24-hour cycle, or you will go insane. True story. Your life will become Shutter Island. While that film is awesome and blew my mind, I don’t want it to become my reality.
The issue is, lately, I have such a difficult time falling asleep, then once I finally do, I have these intensely vivid, upsetting dreams alllllllllll night long and I wake up early in the morning, feeling a thrilling combination of panic, discomfort, confusion, and sadness. Always an exciting way to start your morning. For some people, Folger’s is “the best part of waking up” but for me it’s realizing I’m not in whatever horrific situation I dreamt. Or, on the flip side, the worst part of waking up is when I’m in the middle of a dream that is way better than my actuality, then the sinking realization that it’s not true. OH GOD. Why do I have to sleep at all?!?!?
Rundown of some of my recent dream “highlights”:
Teeth falling out. Always. I have had this recurring one for years, but it doesn’t make it any less scary or gruesome every time it occurs. There is nothing like the panic of realizing your face is falling apart. When I wake up, I have to say it is pretty relieving to run my tongue over my teeth and realize they are still there. Definitely a good reminder to brush your teeth on a daily basis…
Work panic. Very unrealistic things like “oh I can’t figure out how to work Outlook and it’s full of life-or-death emails” or “My boss is soooo mad at me because I’m trying to drive but I can’t get to work on time”… sometimes I will still get restaurant dreams although I no longer work in any sort of restaurant setting. Things like angry customers yelling at me, someone orders a beer but I can’t find the tap, I get sat eight tables at once, etc. I thought these anxiety dreams would retreat once I quit the industry, but I still get them on a pretty regular basis.
School panic. HEY! Guess who graduated college two years ago?! Nope, doesn’t matter, I still have dreams I’m flunking out of math. I get the math homework anxiety dream a lot. I also have ones where I wake up and realize I have a huge research paper due that morning and I haven’t started it. Or that I have my final science project due… all pretty similar, but all of them have me bolting up in bed, panting and frantically searching for my nonexistant backpack.
Phone calls. Weird one. I will see that someone really important has texted me, or someone I love is trying to call, but I can’t answer my phone or figure out how to unlock it or respond to a message in time. I know it sounds minor, but it always gets me really upset in the dream. Then I wake up feeling this sense of regret that I couldn’t reach them in time… basically cut off from communicating with the ones I need to the most. This is actually one of the worst ones, emotionally, for some reason. Maybe I have been thinking about upgrading my iPhone too much recently.
So what are my answers, here, people? How do I relax?! Medication? Maybe, but I always feel like I’ve been hit by a truck in the morning if I fall asleep in a chemically-enhanced fashion. Putting on a DVD, chilling in bed, and hoping for the best? No, because then I wake up from a panic dream with the annoying “DVD menu screen” loop music penetrating my ears, only furthering my disorientation. Drinking? No, that’s way depressing even for me, plus I get heartburn if I drink right before bed. Staying awake and just letting myself get as crazy as Teddy Daniels? I dunno, maybe, as I said, I did really enjoy that film.
Today is the first day of Lent. I was raised Catholic (…clearly a lot has changed since then, sorry Mom) but the reason I know this important date is not because of religion, but because this morning a ton of people on my Facebook feed were updating about what they’re giving up.
When I was a kid, we’d pick something to give up and also we wouldn’t eat meat on Fridays. These days, without my parents or church to force me, I don’t give up anything, least of all meat. But I got to thinking… if I were a relatively pious person (NOPE) what would it behoove me to abstain from at this point in my life? Let’s first ponder the traditional suspects…
Alcohol. This is a common choice for people of my age and lifestyle. However, let’s be realistic. For one thing, this weekend is my birthday so obviously I am obligated to drink… a lot. Even without that factor, what else is during lent? Um, St. Patrick’s Day! My heritage (white) mandates that I go crazy and imbibe at least six Irish Car Bombs and three Guinnesses. I can’t betray my roots. Further more… you can’t go to happy hour and be “that girl” who only drinks a Diet Coke. You just can’t.
Chocolate. To be honest, I could do this one. I don’t really eat that many sweets (unlike some people I know, Jensine). But it’s pretty dumb to give up something you don’t really care about in the first place. Saying that you need to “give up” chocolate implies that you are really into chocolate/candy… and that’s kinda weird once you’re past the sixth grade mark.
Fast Food. Well, I don’t eat fast food. Except when I am eating Taco Bell on (a) a road trip, (b) a night of drinking, or (c) a drunken road trip. Everyone knows this is a joy I can never give up.
Meat. Are you kidding?! Like I said above, this is one of the last things I’d give up! Meat is the perfect food group! Lots of protein, multiple ways to marinate, PLUS another creature had to sacrifice its life for you to eat it. If you think about it, that’s pretty religious right there… meat martyred itself for YOUR taste buds, how can you deny that?!
Alright, well, looks like all those options are out of the picture. Here’s some more avant garde sacrifices I could try:
Google chat. I gchat. A LOT. It really takes up an unreasonable bulk of my time every day… and distracts me from work… and gives me an excuse to sit on my ass even longer… and distracts my friends from their work… hold on a sec, look at that list, gchat is awesome! Never mind!
Texting. Actually, just read the above paragraph, but every time you see the word “gchat” substitute “texting” in its place.
Criticizing the behavior and choices of others. I think it would be hypocritical of me to stop engaging in this highly engrossing habit for LENT of all things, seeing as how the Catholic church is founded upon this principle.
Tetris. I used to have it on my computer and played it ever since I was a kid, but that ended last year when I bought my iMac. Since then, I’ve just been playing it on my phone all the time. To make matters “worse” (= BETTER!) now that I have Patrick’s old NES, it’s bright lights, Tetris city! I’ve only had the game in my possession for three days, but already it has slowly started to take over my life. I was almost late to work yesterday because I was on an amazing streak. I have already broken the record high score on that cartridge. I would quit, but come on, nothing is more rewarding than that flickery text proclaiming, “You are a Tetris Master!”.
Silently mocking 80% of what everyone posts on Facebook. What?! No. It’s basically the only good thing about that site. Everyone reading this is kinda paranoid right now, huh? Don’t worry. It’s not you. (…no, actually, it might be/probably is you.)
WELL, there you have it! Looks like I have no choice but to continue my path of sin and self-indulgence! The road to hell is apparently paved with red meat, alcohol, laughter, and technological communication.
I have no qualms about passionately endorsing bizarre items in this blog, as any faithful reader should be well aware. (See: Taco Bell, Gatorade, karaoke, etc…) Well, here’s another one to add to the list:
I LOVE trampolines.
Don’t ask me to explain this. Surprise: I can’t even do any cool tricks on them. Besides “crack the egg” but that is not really a trick, more of a childhood game… I think my tramp-love stems from the fact that we never had one of those giant Costco trampolines in our backyard, so when we went to friend’s houses that had them, I just went hog wild with jealousy. (Lindsey knows what I am talking about.) Nothing has changed in adulthood; when my friend Jensine was housesitting a family homestead this fall, I came over to ostensibly keep her company, but I really just wanted to squeal and jump around their giant trampoline for hours on end.
Finally, for trampaholics like me, there is an even better way to score a jump fix: the semi-new Sky High Sports in Bellevue, Washington!
While SHS’s website features children a good 10+ years younger than me horsing around, let me assure you, this is a heaven for all ages. Their slogan cheekily inquires of me, “are you ready to bounce off the walls?” …my answer? A resounding YES.
One fateful Thursday afternoon, I donned an 80s terrycloth sweatband and saddled up alongside Jensine, Michaela, and Linn for an afternoon of tramping delight on the Eastside. We stopped at a creepy local minimart to fuel our impending athletic triumphs (= ate Chex Mix, Starburst, Gatorade G2, and some questionable deviled eggs). After consuming our healthy meal and paying an $11 admission fee to the freshly-turned-16 “bouncers” at the SHS front desk, we were ready to enter trampoline nirvana. I knew we had made the right choice when I noticed not one, but two Gatorade vending machines in the entryway. (Photographic evidence above. Yes, my tongue is stained from G2.) Once fully inside, we had our choice of: huge plain trampoline, dodgeball trampoline court, or trampoline track into a foam pit. The trinity of tramping pleasure! Of course, we had our go at all of the options. A rousing game of “monkey in the middle” was also cooked up after we’d had our fill of dodgeball.
Also of note for future visitors of Sky High Sports: everyone who works there is a vaguely sullen teenager. I feel like if I worked in a land of trampolines I would be eternally ebullient, but apparently not everyone reflects this attitude. To balance out this apathetic attitude, though, early-2000s music is blaring from the loudspeakers at all times. Does the early material of Kelly Clarkson and the Black Eyed Peas whip you into a frenzy of adrenaline? Then you’re in for a treat.
One more word of warning: as the site ominously declares, WEEKENDS SELL OUT! So you better get on the ball. Or tramp, as the case may be.
I have had a lot on my mind lately. I mean, life is just full of things to ponder.
One topic I keep coming back to is the allure of the corndog.
Corndogs reemerged upon my radar last week when I was stopped at a gas station. There were signs for corndogs plastered everywhere! First, I thought, “Man, AM/PM’s really going for broke with their meat-log advertising budget,” but I soon realized I was judging too quickly. Why shouldn’t AM/PM devote a large chunk of their marketing efforts to corndogs? After all, they are delicious and nutritious; an all-in-one source of your daily recommendation for calories, fat, and sodium. Good AND good for you! Not to mention the sheer convenience! No more hotdog slipping out of the bun… this dog comes swaddled in its own crispy cornbread shell.
I remember when I was a kid… one of the few unhealthy treats my mom would allow my brother and I to indulge in was frozen corndogs from Costco. She’d get the big box o’ Foster Farms corndogs and on Saturday afternoons, Eric and I would have at it. I remember some days eating as many as three in a row. Never leave a child unattended with a box of corndogs, Mom. Cardinal rule. Tragically, my childhood bond with corndogs was violently broken one momentous weekend. Eric, my dad, and I were on our way back up from a hardcore windsurfing trip on the Oregon coast when we stopped at a Safeway for a snack. I chose a deli corndog and that was a decision our family would soon regret; talk about getting carsick! After that incident, even the smell of cornbread made me mildly queasy.
It should be a surprise to nobody that since that scarring event, I haven’t consumed a great deal of corndogs. When I went through my half-assed, misguided “vegan” stage in college (which lasted all of like three months, shockingly) I enjoyed the now-discontinued Morningstar Farms’ veggie corndogs. But real dogs? Forget it. It hit too close to home (“home” = “barfing in car on Oregon road trip at age 8″). They’ve been creeping back into my consciousness, though. First of all, this week my friend AJ just bought a box of frozen “extreme cheese!” corndogs and we often gchat about it. Then this morning I started Googling “corndogs” for fun (hey, slow weekend) and I found out that National Corndog Day is March 20th, 2010! MARK YOUR CALENDARS, FRIENDS. I have under three months to redevelop my love for these salty treats! (And then a week after that to lose the “corndog weight” before I go to Miami at the end of March. Challenge accepted!)
There is one crucial aspect of the corndog’s mystique that I must solve, however:
me: i’m starting my blog
i wish i had pic of me eating a corndog
do you have a pic of yourself eating a corn dog? AJ: hahahaha, i wish me: (also, notice how inconsistent i am with spacing out…. “corndog” or “corn dog” ?) AJ: i don’t know how many people actually have a picture of themselves eating a corn-dog
i’ll just use a dash AJ: because i don’t know how it’s supposed to be me: hmmm… touche me: i think of all people, i would have a picture of myself eating a corn dog
Okay, if that excerpt wasn’t clear enough, I don’t know how to spell it. Corn dog? Corndog? Corn-dog?
And I guess if we are up on our reading comprehension, there is another central issue: the fact that I do not have the proper graphic to depict me + corndogs. Actually, maybe the bigger concern is my bizarre desire for such a thing to exist. For now, I have posted a picture of what I feel I must look like when I eat corndogs! (Complete with sad Latino cook shaking his head in disgust/shame.)
Anyway, if I am feeling up to the task, I might head to the grocery store tonight and see where my cravings take me. (I’ll tell you where: directly to the frozen foods aisle.) The good news is, we did some research and it appears that corndogs only have about 180 calories per pup. It’s like eating an energy bar… except on a stick… and with more fat and less vitamins. And tastes better with beer and/or Diet Coke.
My gastrointestinal system has taken a vacation south of the border. As if last weekend’s Taco Night and Laredo’s marg party wasn’t enough… let’s talk about the bender I’ve gone on this weekend.
Friday night (or Saturday morning, depending on how you’d like to look at it) I took a delicious trip to Taco Bell with KJ. Complete with a medium Diet Coke, because why not just have utter disregard for my health in both food and beverage choice?
Yesterday, Saturday, I went to El Chupacabra with Kasey and we split their huuuuge nacho plate. Along with a couple rounds of margaritas, of course.
This afternoon after an exhausting morning of breakfast, Sunday morning football, online basketball game, and house-hunting, Steph and Chris and I indulged in baby-sized steak burritos at Gordito’s. (Which, in my opinion, is one of the most fun Mexican places in Seattle, its atmosphere somehow reminds me of a Mexican Roscoe’s… or maybe I just experience that same level of gluttonous excitement at both establishments.)
…yep, looks like Cinco de Mayo came early this year.
When will this fiesta end?!?!? I don’t know if it ever will, and I don’t know if I want it to.
I sometimes joke that I am “getting boring” or “getting old”… I think we all do… but honestly, inside that throw-away comment is a kernel of truth. I am definitely more of a homebody than I used to be. Don’t get me wrong, I have my moments (to put it lightly) but in general, I’ve really toned it down.
Newest piece of evidence:
I have a new favorite game. It is a card game called Dutch Blitz. Why had I not heard of it before last night? Oh, turns out (according to Wikipedia) it’s favored by the Pennsylvania Dutch/Amish, Christian, and homeschool communities. OUCH. I prefer to look on the bright side and say hey, here is proof that not all things religious are unenjoyable. (Not that there is anything religious about this game besides its target demographic, but still, usually my preferences fall blatantly opposite of this group’s. So I took note.)
This compelling card game was discovered during Taco Night at my favorite couple, Chris & Steph’s, place. I met this awesome girl, Annie, who turned out to be RAISED MENNONITE. I got really excited because I’ve never known a Mennonite before! I am very easily enthralled by people who were raised in drastically different locations/backgrounds than me. Diversity! I really have to hold back from firing a ton of questions at them. I didn’t want to overwhelm, so I played it cool… but I did not play Dutch Blitz cool, I played it HOT and played to WIN! (Sadly, I did not win. Next time…)
Anyway, if the set-up wasn’t clear, obviously Annie is the one who introduced us to Dutch Blitz, which apparently is popular amongst the Mennonite community. It’s kind of like Uno, but mixed with Spit and Egyptian Rat Screw and building a house in Mexico. What? I don’t know. Read the website I linked. This is way funner (yes, funner) than Texas Hold ‘Em or anything, therefore I need it to gain popularity outside the Christian homeschool community so I can play it with my friends! Also I am competitive and I know I can beat everyone since I have more experience now.
Dutch Blitz also makes a great drinking game! (Then again, what doesn’t? See, I haven’t completely lost my spark.)
Well, WE DID IT! 2009! Survived! Everyone! Great job! And I don’t really know what people were bitching about, everyone is like “thank God 2009 is over, what a horrible year” but I don’t know… despite the myriad celeb deaths (RIP BRITTANY MURPHY I have vowed to watch my DVD of Uptown Girls in your honor…) and the economic horrors we have all faced… I thought that personally, this has been a pretty good year. Better than 2008, so take THAT!
I feel slightly apprehensive about 2010, but to allay my doubts about my future, I have compiled an epic list of resolutions that, if I keep them all, guarantees to make the upcoming year AMAZING.
I have creatively entitled this list…
10 in ‘10 !
1. Travel to at least three new places. And by “places” I hopefully mean legit things like countries/continents, but if push comes to shove I will count my spring break trip to Miami. And possibly the land of “Pandora” in Avatar, since I will only see that movie in true IMAX 3D and it’s sold out here until 2010.
2. Save money. Everyone says this, but in order to accomplish resolution #1, it is necessary. How will I succeed at this? Attempt to cut back on superfluous things like happy hour, coffee shops, showering (saves on the water bill!).
3. Keep on doing yoga. And talk incessantly about how “peaceful” it makes me feel. (Mostly untrue, I would still say my “inner peace” level is at about 3%, max.) At this point I think 70% of my motivation to do anything healthy or exercise-y is to annoy people and make me feel better about myself.
4. Reevaluate my Netflix queue. I probably don’t need to experience BBC made-for-TV children’s movie Ballet Shoes starring Emma Watson… I probably do need to finally see Casablanca… after all, it’s Hugh Hefner’s favorite film. What other endorsement do you need?!
5. Appreciate the abundance of culture the world has to offer. Namely that means eating more Taco Bell, watching the video below, and eating Taco Bell WHILE watching the “video” below:
6. Incorporate more of the refreshing beverage Campari into my everyday activities. Anything featured in Xtina Aguilera’s patriotic video for “Candyman” just can’t be wrong! In other words, I will embrace the “Campari lifestyle” like my nemesis Eva Mendez. According to her, my new, fulfilling lifestyle will look something like this:
7. In a blaze of glory, take less than two weeks to burn through the entire series of Ally McBeal DVDs I recently acquired.
8. Through marathon at #7, get inspired by Calista Flockhart and emulate her and/or her character. This includes, but is not limited to, any combination of the following: hit on Harrison Ford, weigh 90 pounds (might be impeded by my Taco Bell resolution at #5), become a lawyer, become a celebrity, become a celebrity lawyer, wear really short skirts, hit on Robert Downey Jr., build a karaoke bar below my place of employment and go there to drink and sing with coworkers after a long day at the office.
9. Climb to an even higher level of eFame through my new side project entitled “3-STYXTY-5″ in which I listen to Styx’s magnum opus, “Come Sail Away,” at least once every single day of the year. Then blog my emotional journey (= slow descent into hell). This may or may not have been a semi-drunk Christmas bet I made with my brother last week. “Emily, you could NOT listen to Styx 365 days in a row!” But joke’s on him, it’s happening. Don’t believe me? Feast your eyes on this: http://365styx.wordpress.com/ (Yeah there’s not much there yet, but forcing myself to create this masterpiece of a webpage was half the battle.)
10. Get on national television at least ONCE. I did it this year, I can do it again. America, set your DVRs! (Well, technically you can’t yet because you/I don’t know what I will be on… safe bets would be Jeopardy!, Rick Steves presents: Scandinavian Nightlife, or Intervention, depending on how my resolutions pan out.)
I have been lazy about writing. Similarly, I was lazy about Christmas this year. I don’t know why I am so unmotivated lately, maybe it’s because I’m not ready for the year to be over yet, so I feel like if I do nothing time-worthy, time will not pass. Unfortunately, I don’t think it works that way. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Being that I am so lazy now, I am going to summarize my “holiday vacation” (aka going to Kent area for four days) in bullet points.
Because I know everyone is dying to hear about it.
- I forgot my toiletries bag in Seattle. (btw can we all agree that “toiletries” is a supremely awkward word?) Meaning I didn’t get to shave for four days. I realize I could have gone out and purchased a razor, but I was annoyed with myself and didn’t want to spend unnecessary money, so my punishment was no shaving. Bummer. That also means that I had to utilize the unsatisfactory supply of toiletries in my little brother’s bathroom. For four days I washed my face with “Gillette for Men! Bodywash and facial wash”… I don’t trust cleansing combos. I also smelled like a teenage boy. All in all… attractive.
- Obviously a top priority for my time off was to catch up on my filmgoing. I am finding myself woefully behind this season. BUT, guess what, at multiple theatres practically alllllll the good movies were sold out. I need to seriously consider Fandango or whatever. Sherlock Holmes? SOLD OUT. Up in the Air? SOLD OUT. Avatar? SOLD OUT. At the Renton Landing on 12/26, the only available walk-up ticket purchase was for Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakuel, which the 16-year-old box office attendant offered to me. When I found that out, I caustically remarked to her that I would voluntarily pay to NEVER have to see that movie. I don’t think she liked my attitude very much. But I didn’t like her suggestion to see the Chipmunks very much, so fair’s fair.
- I did, however, get into Nine. It didn’t live up to my (admittedly, ridiculously high) expectations.
- As always, I made these epic plans to meet up with all my old friends, and ended up seeing like… four people. I’m pretty bad at making that kind of stuff happen; unless I am directly called with specific plans, I will probably stay at my parent’s house, watching old Beverly Hills 90210 reruns for hours on end – my #1 activity when in Kent. That’s what my mom gets for subscribing to SOAPnet.
- Everyone made fun of me for receiving High School Musical 3: Extended Cut on DVD for Christmas (and viewing it twice in a row, whatever guys!). Haters can hate, I’m watching regardless. Although… what does it mean that I had to struggle to hold back tears when Troy Bolton declares his college decision during the “Senior Year” curtain call? I don’t think it says anything good, that’s for sure.
- Some things never change. I got in trouble for ruining the new cherrywood coffee table in my mom’s living room. I spilled nail polish remover on it. Oops. What are you gonna do, ground me?!?! Not anymore! (No, honestly I feel pretty bad about it. But it’s slightly amusing that no matter how old I get, I can still manage to break and/or damage the furniture and ruin my mom’s perfect world. This is why I personally purchase all my furniture at Value Village.)
- I ate a lot of red meat, drank a lot of whiskey & wine, and basically embraced gluttony. It was good while it lasted, but now I feel pretty gross about myself. No one needs to eat an entire party bag of Christmas-foiled Rolos over the course of one weekend. (Funny how when Grace remarked that “from your blog and Facebook entries, you don’t give off the impression that you are nutritionally responsible” I got really defensive….) I still maintain it’s less shameful than Jordan’s jalapeno chip consumption rate.
- I finally saw The Hangover cause my family rented it. Now people can stop saying to me, “You’ve never seen The Hangover?!?!?!?!?!??!” … joke’s on you, I have now. And it made me want to go back to Vegas real bad. (Cautionary tales fly straight over my head.)
Comcast rebranding itself as Xfinity? Wow... that is an xfinitely dumb name/idea. Embarrassing. (Xbarrassing? I can play this all day...)
05:54:03 PM February 04, 2010
from web
One fateful Thursday afternoon, I donned an 80s terrycloth sweatband and saddled up alongside Jensine, Michaela, and Linn for an afternoon of tramping delight on the Eastside. We stopped at a creepy local minimart to fuel our impending athletic triumphs (= ate Chex Mix, Starburst, Gatorade G2, and some questionable deviled eggs). After consuming our healthy meal and paying an $11 admission fee to the freshly-turned-16 “bouncers” at the SHS front desk, we were ready to enter trampoline nirvana. I knew we had made the right choice when I noticed not one, but two Gatorade vending machines in the entryway. (Photographic evidence above. Yes, my tongue is stained from G2.) Once fully inside, we had our choice of: huge plain trampoline, dodgeball trampoline court, or trampoline track into a foam pit. The trinity of tramping pleasure! Of course, we had our go at all of the options. A rousing game of “monkey in the middle” was also cooked up after we’d had our fill of dodgeball.
me: i’m starting my blog
I have a new favorite game. It is a card game called 
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