Thursday, September 30, 2010

Mama I'm Comin' Home

This weekend shall be bittersweet. The sweet? I’m going to Iowa City again for Homecoming. The bitter? I have a huge blister on my chin that is, well, unsightly. So all the pictures, if I allow any, will consist of me doing some random hand gestures that will strategically, yet not subtly, cover up said face-eating virus. So, yeah. I’m excited to go and see my friends again and hang out with a bunch of other aging college grads. I just hope they don’t cower in fear upon seeing my mangled face.

I haven’t been back for a Homecoming game since I graduated. There’s the whole parade thing and all kinds of events that college students participate in. Or so I’m told. After my freshman year, I literally did nothing special on Homecoming. But my freshman year, when I was in my sorority, we built a float for the parade, went to the pep fests, won a spirit award, and all kinds of stuff, so I know these things exist. I remember wondering if and when there would be the Homecoming Dance. We had them in high school, and I loved those. But, alas, there would be no dance. There would be awkward conversations and getting beer spilled all over me in the huge crowds at the bar, just waiting for someone to come talk to me.

I love the idea of Homecoming. They should have these in real life, like outside of schools. Imagine it: Homecoming for your favorite shoe store. For one weekend, you go in, hang out with other regulars, reminisce in the boot section about the days you came in for Birkenstocks and espadrilles. Oh, the memories! Or Homecoming at work. All the people who quit or were fired would come back, have a glass of wine, and after the awkwardness dissipated in a haze of alcohol, people would stand, arm in arm, and sing Piano Man together. Aww…everyone loves Homecoming.

Also, why aren’t I involved in more parades? I love parades. If it were at all possible, I’d put streamers, balloons, and a novelty horn in my car and drive real slowly around the city. Throwing candy out of the window. Fabulous!

But this Homecoming weekend, I’ll miss out on all that because it’s happening as we speak. By the time I get there, the streets will be littered with wet streamers and popped balloons. It’ll be like the city already has the hangover I’ll have on Sunday morning. However, the Homecoming football game (that I’m not GOING to, but simply tailgating for) is a night game. Since it doesn’t start until 7:05 p.m. I will actually have a chance to go in to downtown and shop on Saturday morning. It’s the little things, I guess…

So okay, maybe I won’t be wearing a sick body-hugging black velvet dress with a fur trim at the bust (yup, that’s the bombest dress ever that I wore to my high school senior year Homecoming dance), and I’ll miss all the crazy floats and old men playing bagpipes at the parade, but I’ll be with some of my dearest friends visiting my old stomping grounds again. If that’s not a great Homecoming, I don’t know what is. Plus, I can just buy my own 2 year-old stale butterscotch candies and I’ll just throw them around to my friends all day. I’m guessing they’ll love it. And it’ll take the attention away from my gnarly face.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Wednesday Winner

I don’t have the energy to build this up the way it deserves. I just got back from an awesome Book Club, and I’ve got a lot on my mind. So, without further ado, I now present: THE WEDNESDAY WINNER!!

Polygamists! Yay! One man, several wives. Listen, I don’t get it. I really don’t. I just recently accepted the whole idea of one person + one spouse. So why you’d ever want more than one, I don’t know. But polygamy is the “Jon and Kate” of this season. Remember all those shows with parents who had like a zillion kids? Well, now it’s a zillion spouses. It’s everywhere these days. Tina and I have seen approximately a half dozen shows about polygamy this week. And let me tell you: it’s hilarious.

I mean, not only is polygamy illegal, it’s just unfortunate. But for some reason, these people really think it’s the bee’s knees. Some dude decides that he needs tons of wives to fulfill his spiritual destiny. Who am I to judge? Well, when you put it on TV, I get to be a judge. There’s a new TV show called Sister Wives where three women are married to some dude. They love it. One of them basically admitted that she could never just be married to a man. She’d be unhappy. She needs “sister wives”. In most other situations, someone would tell that poor woman to maybe just not marry that guy. It doesn’t seem like a good situation when you marry someone, hoping that at least one other person will come in to take some of the heat off.

But, as I mentioned, Tina and I have learned a lot about polygamy this week. For some reason, these shows are hot like fire. All these women sit around and talk about how they are soooo happy to be the “third wife” or the “sixth wife”. What? They just hang out and wait for their night with their husband. Until then, they just kind of raise their hundreds of kids. It’s the weirdest thing to me.

So, this week, this whole Polygamy thing made for some good conversations in the Pharon Square household. I now have 2 girl roommates and one male roommate. The chicks rule the roost. I can’t, for the life of me, understand why someone would choose that lifestyle. All that estrogen!! It’s so…so…undesirable. But again, the whole polygamy thing is the trend of the season. Polygamy is the new black, apparently. And it’s fascinating. It’s new. It’s funny. It’s not me. Which is why, this Wednesday, I declare polygamists the Wednesday Winner. They make me laugh, and more importantly, they make me happy I’m not them. Congratulations, polygamists! I don’t know how you’ll split this honorable award, but I’m sure you’ll find a way. You always do…

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Gleek Squad

I. Love. Glee. Does anyone NOT love Glee? Who woulda thought? The former band geek is now a loud, proud Gleek. It’s one of the few TV shows I try and stay home to watch. Why? Well, it’s got everything I love in a TV show. Dancing, singing, costumes, teen pregnancy, and ditzy cheerleaders who date the ditzy jocks. Ah, to be in high school again…

When I was in high school, as I’ve mentioned, I was a bandie. I played the flute. When my lack of practicing and frequently missed classes due to “doctor’s appointments” started to affect my standing in the flute chorale, I focused all my half-hearted energy on being the solo piccolo player. Every note I played was technically a solo. Didn’t really make sense at the time, as I was pretty content blending in to the middle of 15 girls faking my way through runs and trills, but it made me buckle down and not embarrass myself anymore. So, I practiced. I went to rehearsals. I even marched in Marching Band, when it didn’t conflict with soccer or cheerleading. Wow, that makes me sound both very nerdy and very well-rounded simultaneously. Anyway, the point is I started working. And I got by. Such a success story!

I guess I never really thought there was anything wrong with being in band. A lot of my friends were in band. Roughly 80% of the Homecoming Court was made up of bandies. It wasn’t the mark of shame that some would believe. I mean, yeah there were nerds and geeks IN band, but just being in band didn’t make you a nerd. At least, that’s what my mom tells me. But I liked it, dammit. I love music, and I loved being able to make it. And that is why I watch Glee.

I am totally unaware of whether or not my high school had a glee club. I’m 99% sure we didn’t. Even if there was one, I probably wouldn’t have joined. There’s no way they would have performed Britney Spears or Journey songs. They would not have embraced Lady Gaga’s disgusting, albeit totally funny, fashion choices with such…such…vigor. And they dance. It’s everything I never would have done in high school. Well, except for one thing: Rachel, the main character, wears Kate Spade sweaters. THAT I would have done.

See, the show is awesome. But it keeps the kids geeky and unpopular when possible. I like that. Being a geek makes a person much more interesting. I like to think of myself as a geek. And I made it through high school totally unscathed and almost totally free of emotional scarring...even though I wore one of the ugliest band uniforms ever created, and technically lettered in band. Of course I never put the patch on my letter jacket, but oh well. I put it on my college applications, and that’s really what counts.

So, if you haven’t watched it yet, start watching Glee immediately. And if you know of any 12 or 13 year-olds, or are one yourself, go ahead and sign up for something nerdy before it’s too late. Just make sure they don’t end up in like CHESS CLUB. There’s no show on the planet that can give Chess Club any street cred.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Boresville (Population: 1)

So bored. So, so, so very bored. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, doing nothing, but it’s been awhile. I don’t have the TV on (nothing’s on), I think I’ve reached the end of the Internet and therefore have nothing else to look at, and I just don’t have anything I have to do tonight. So I’m just, like, sitting here. For 5 minutes straight, I thought about Smurfs and how awesome they are. I smurfin’ love the Smurfs. Then I just sat here. Not doing ANYthing. Not thinking about ANYthing.

I can’t remember the last time I actually felt truly BORED. When I was a kid, my friend (and next door neighbor) Claire and I were ALWAYS “bored”. We’d walk into the kitchen and ask my mom “What can we doooooo? We are so booooored!” She’d shoot off a half dozen ideas, none of which were quite right for us, and Claire and I would go back to moping until we’d eventually decide on a half-hearted fashion show. It was always either a fashion show or Restaurant. Both games enabled us to dress up and speak with a French accent. We’d go over and over and over the set-up before we even got to the actual game. Come to think of it, most of “playing” was just “planning on playing”. We’d work on our costumes, and then discuss our personas for hours. Who do we think should come in to eat? (New Kids on the Block.) What are we serving? (Chocolate cake and Goldfish.) Who gets to have the boyfriend? (I do.) By the time we set up all the rules, I had to go back home and clean my room.

Perek and I used to play Bank when we were bored. We’d get the thermoses from our lunch boxes, put Monopoly money in them and roll them back-and-forth across the floor while we laid underneath the twin beds in my room. That, or we’d play Sonic the Hedgehog on Sega and make up words to the instrumental songs on each level. We still remember some of the words. We were that cool. And if there was no one else to play with, I’d spend my days spying on my sisters or thinking of new ways to style my bowl cut.

The point is, I was always bored as kid, but had like a zillion things I could pretend to do. Now that I can actually do all the things in real life that I used to pretend I was doing, I don’t do it. Turns out? Going to the bank is not as much fun as it was with the thermoses. Then, at a certain point, boredom turns into “relaxation”. Sitting around with no plans, no chores, no place I have to rush off to is a luxury. I don't call my mom up and ask what I should do. I sit quietly and pray my phone doesn't ring. With that logic, I didn’t have a boring weekend, I had a relaxing weekend.

But right now? Right now, I’m definitely bored. And like the suggestions my mom would give us in the kitchen, nothing that I can do seems like any fun at all. Although, I kind of want to call someone and see if they want to play Fashion Show with me. Come on over, and we’ll dress up in all my ugly clothes and take Polaroids with our Barbies. I think THAT sounds fun.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Fantasy Football

Sunday blues are no more. I know that tomorrow is Monday, and the work week starts all over again, but Sundays are wonderful now because of football. I love it. I love my team, even when they are, um, inconsistent. But I love them so much more when they’re good and they win. So, Sundays are great in my book. Thank you, NFL. That being said, here are the reasons I could never play football (professionally or otherwise).

Reason #1: I am not in good enough shape. I’m not even talking about like RUNNING BACK shape, either. Have you seen the defensive players? They are roughly 1,000 pounds. They sweat when they bend over at the line of scrimmage. And I imagine that 90% of their weight is straight up French fries and pizza. But even these guys get more exercise than me. I mean, I could PROBABLY beat them in the Sit n’ Reach, but that’s of little consolation. There’s not one position I could play on the field. Sure I played soccer for 17 years, so I could MAYBE try for a kicking position, but even that’s pretty far-fetched. My hands are tiny, I’d drop the ball. And even if I held onto it, I’d probably only be able to kick it about 25 feet.

Reason #2: I would cry. I don’t know how these guys don’t just sit on the field after getting smashed by two ginormotrons and have themselves a good cry. Plus, have you heard the kind of mean things these guys say to each other? Sticks and stones will break my bones, sure. But words will ALSO hurt me. If I dropped the ball, or missed a tackle, I’d be sitting on the sidelines blubbering, “But they were YELLING at me! Right in my face! They wouldn’t leave me alone! Why won‘t they just shut up?” But mostly, it’s the physical contact. My eyes start watering when I stub my toe. If I got hit late, or I wasn’t expecting it, I’d just start crying and say that my knee hurt so I could go to the locker room and sit in the shower with my uniform on and just cry.

Reason #3: I don’t have the focus. When I played soccer in high school, I’d play terribly if a guy I liked came to watch. I’d be distracted by who he was talking to, wondering if he’s looking at me, or thinking about how good that pretzel he’s eating looks. There are a LOT of distracting things at football games. I would dance around to the music in between plays, tuning out the audibles. I’d be looking up at the Kiss Cam to see if anything embarrassing happens. I’d try and count how many people were wearing my jersey, or how many people painted signs that expressed their love for me. I’d constantly be wondering if I looked fat in the spandex pants and would miss the snap completely because I’d be checking myself out on the Jumbtron to see if I had panty lines. Game? What game?

Reason #4: I don’t like people getting all up in my personal space. All the butt-slapping, helmet-bumping and shoulder slamming that goes on would drive me nuts. I like the idea of huddles, and telling each other secrets or whatever they do in there, but that’s as close as I want to get. Stop spanking me. Stop coming up behind me and smacking my helmet. And for God’s sake, stop jumping on top of me after I get a touchdown. I know it was a good play, but instead of suffocating me, just give me a high five, or a firm handshake.

Reason #5:Finally, I couldn’t be a football player because it just sounds like a lot of work. All those practices and games? Sheesh. Plus, they work on nights and weekends and that’s when I do some of my best napping.

So, despite the thousands of offers I’ve received to try out, I’m going to have to just come right out and say Thanks, But No Thanks, NFL. I’m sure you’ll find a way to go on without me on your team.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

I Wanna be a Toys R Us Kid

Can I ask you a dumb question? Where’s the line between growing up and getting old? I’m at a crossroads here, people. On the one hand, the thought of having a child/buying a house/”settling down” is still preeeeeetty terrifying. On the other hand, I’m starting to wonder what’s wrong with ‘kids these days’. One hand has a beer in it; the other hand is curling into finger-wagging position. I’m torn. I don’t know which end is up. I’m scared. Hold me.

Now, I like fun as much as the next guy. But lately, everything is just….louder. And more obnoxious. I caught myself thinking the phrase “infernal racket” at one point today. I get cranky when I’m hungry, and I keep wanting to yell at random strangers “PULL YOUR PANTS UP!” or “GET A JOB, HIPPIE!” Give me a pipe, sweater vest, and floppity toupee and I’m an old man.

However, I’m still kind of attached to MTV, and I’m sticking pretty hard to my devil-may-care attitude about bill paying. I still firmly believe that the only bad Happy Hour is the one not attended. I see no point in being serious in many (most) situations. When I babysit for my nieces, I stuff them full of Twizzlers, suckers, and Fun Dip then head home for a night of doing whatever I want. Currently, I have blue fingernail polish on, and I’ve got some Silly Bands on my nightstand.

Today, I was thinking about this conundrum as I was planning my upcoming weekend. My roommate is having a party at our house (for her 24th b-day), and it will be chock full of other early 20-somethings. And I can’t stop worrying about the glasses that will be broken, the smell of rancid beer on the floors, and the inhumanely loud noise level that will seep out of our windows. So, part of me wants to check out and go hang at a friend’s house and avoid the stress altogether. But the other part of me is like “Uh, there is a PARTY. And it’s at YOUR HOUSE. If you leave, you may as well finish up that AARP application and start carrying butterscotch candy and a Kleenex in the band of your watch.”

So, where’s the line? Is there a line at all? One day will I just wake up, pay all my bills, buy some sensible shoes, and start visiting websites that do NOT focus on Hollywood gossip? Well, that just scares me. But how far away is that from my current state? I mean, I’ve started really listening to wrinkle cream commercials. And I’ve seriously considered galoshes.

Ugh. I don’t know. I’m scared. I can actually see why someone would want to take on all the problems and permanency of home ownership, when you can actually paint the walls without asking permission first. I’m flummoxed by people who didn’t grow up to the words “This week, on a very special Blossom…”. So what happens next? When does the floor drop out from under me and I start wearing a slip and pantyhose? When does dying my hair for a little change turn into covering gray?

That seals it. I’m going to put on my best hoop earrings and American Apparel outfit, Twitter my brains out, and do my very best keg stand this weekend. I will NOT grow up. I will NOT! I might just need a couple naps, though. And I’ve got to make some time to catch up on the vacuuming, and let me just quick pick up the house before we have guests. Oh, and don’t let me forget to take my multi-vitamin. This rain is really taking its toll on my sinuses and joints. But THEN! THEN it’ll be crazy fun! YEAH!

Happy Weekend, everyone!

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Wednesday Winner

I’m about to get all spiritual up in this piece. Not, like, for real though. Don’t worry. This week was full of little tiny victories in the universe that is Hollywood. Therefore, I call upon the moons and suns and galaxies and black holes and the Big Dipper to declare that this Wednesday's Winner is:

Karmaaaaa! Yes! Oh man, she must have been working overtime in Hollywood this weekend. And believe you me, it did NOT go unnoticed. All over the place, people were getting pwned in hilarious ways.

Lindsay Lohan. Yes, people. She continually tested the limits of drug enforcement laws, shirked her rehab requirements, offended the judge of her case, blamed everyone else, and Lo(han) and behold? She failed a drug test. Twice. Now she’s supposed to go back to jail for 30 days. Will you ever learn, Lindsay? Well, if Karma has anything to do with it: you will.

Secondly, Paris Hilton was turned away from a whole country. Yup. Japan said what we‘ve all wanted to say to Paris since her first commando trip to the club: Sayonara, Sweetheart. They turned away Paris and her private jet straight up because she has been charged with drug possession here in the States. Her claim? She thought the cocaine in her bag was gum. Yeah, that’s just, that’s just not a good lie, Paris. It’s like me claiming that I thought the cake I just ate was a toothbrush. Silly rabbit. In Hollywood it’s downright humiliating to be turned away from club. But a whole country? Now that’s how Karma rolls.

It’s not all doom and gloom, though. Karma is not just a cold-hearted snake. This week, we got a brand new Glee episode, Penelope Cruz is preggo, and Steven Tyler is still alive. Oh, and also a new judge on some TV talent show. And Jon Stewart is leading our generation in a Rally to Restore Sanity march in October. Love it. See? Lots and lots o’ the good stuff, too. And it’s good stuff for some good people, too. I like that.

So, my hat’s off to you, Karma. You’ve brought a wonderful balance of peace, promise, and punishment to our fair Hollywood. I honor you by crowning you this Wednesday’s Winner. You played a big part in a great week, and I want you to know that I not only noticed, but I appreciate it. I just hope, you know, this comes back around to me somehow. But, like in a good way.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

False Alarm, Tony Danza. Continue to Maintain Your Distance

One of the most commonly misheard lyrics is Elton John's Tiny Dancer, when people sing “Hold me closer, Tony Danza…”. Well, years ago, I was sitting in a car with my friend Ally and singing the words to that very same song. Only I was singing ”Hold me close, I’m tired o’ daaaancin’”. Ally almost drove into a tree because she was laughing so hard. Between gasps for air, and with tears in her eyes, she laughed, “Pharon, it’s the NAME OF THE SONG!” Well, color me embarrassed.

I’m sort of known for picking up lyrics to songs at a freakishly fast rate. I can hear a song once and, usually, sing along with 90% of the song the next time I hear it. It's a gift. However, in my haste, I’ll scoot over a particular line I don’t know and mumble along. The problem is, most of the time I mess up the words, it’s actually the Title Of The Song. How can I pick up everything BESIDES the one thing a song explicitly gives us? Maybe I overthink the lyrics? Maybe I'm not actually LISTENING to the lyrics? I don't know.

For instance, today, I was singing along with a song by Vampire Weekend called Horchata. Until extremely recently (read: Today), I was singing the first line of the song as “In December, drinkin’ Hot Chowdahhh”. The real lyrics are “In December, drinkin’ Horchata”. Yeah. The NAME OF THE SONG is the part I got wrong. Facepalm.

More Proof Of this Pathetic Pattern:
Artist: Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey
Pharon’s Lyrics: Once We Dance
Actual Lyrics/Title of Song: One Sweet Day

Artist: Spin Doctors
Pharon’s Lyrics: One shoe, Prince will sleep before you
Actual Lyrics: One, Two Princes Kneel Before You
Title of Song: Two Princes

Artist: Prince
Pharon’s Lyrics: EIFFEL, DEIFFEL….DOO!!
Actual Lyrics/Title of Song: I would…die 4…U.

I know I’m not alone. There’s a whole website dedicated to misheard lyrics. There are zillions of them, and most are hilarious. But something about the fact that I just can’t comprehend that the SONG TITLE will, most likely, appear IN THE SONG confounds me. Does not compute. No comprende. Error 404-File or Directory Not Found.

Well, thank God for the internet and You Tube. Because of these technological advances, I can watch most song videos after someone has helpfully included the lyrics in the video. I’ll never be wrong again! Unless it's Sting (thanks Family Guy).

What about you? What are some of lyrics you never got quite right? I promise not to laugh. Hard. They can't be worse than Eiffel Deiffel Doo.

Monday, September 20, 2010

What We’ve Got Here is A Failure to Communicate

So, I'm in a bit of a war with a dude/chick on eBay right now. It’s a fierce battle of wits and honor, and there can be only one winner. It’s a matter of principles and integrity. As William Wallace might say, "It's well beyond rage. Help me. In the name of Christ, help yourselves. Now is our chance. Now. If we join, we can win." Plus, the whole thing is just plain annoying.

Here’s the long and the short of it. Two weeks ago, I was looking for a sweatshirt to give as a gift to Geo. The ones I was finding on the regular sites and stores were BLAHHHH, but then I found the one I wanted. On eBay. The seller claims to have a “store” where they print and ship everything, and indeed their stock levels were quite high. So, I did some clicking around and quickly decided, “Yup, this person checks out!”

Well, the Seller is a jerk. I may be getting scammed here. But I am way too stubborn to put a stop to the whole thing. See, here’s how it all went down:

I purchased said sweatshirt on a Tuesday. On Wednesday, I thought, ‘Maybe I should follow up with them and let them know I’m kind of on a deadline here.’ So, I sent a very nice email, requesting information. Here’s a snippet of my email:

”Can you please let me know the estimated delivery date of this item? I saw your excellent feedback and comments on how quickly you ship items, and initially didn't give it a second thought, but it's a gift for someone, so I just want to double check.”

Here was the response I received, verbatim:

”shouldn’t take to (sic) long”

Uh, okay. Helpful? Well, the birthday came and went. No sweatshirt. Then I got a message that the Seller was now “Unavailable until October”. So immediately I panicked, punched the air, and launched some profanities at my computer screen. Then I composed myself and emailed the seller again.

”It appears as though you are gone until Oct. and there is no shipping information/tracking # available. I need to know if this will not be sent until you return in October, or the tracking information so I can figure out whether or not I need to cancel this transaction.”

The seller’s response, again, verbatim:

"youll have it soon"

Well, that was it. I sent another email to Shakespeare. I informed him/her about the basic principles of Business Ethics, and how he/she was failing miserably. Then I reminded him/her of the repercussions bad feedback can have, and reiterated my overall disgust with the lack of information I was getting. I then threatened, “You are making me very worried about my purchase, and making yourself seem very shady. Don’t make me ask for my money back.”

The Seller replied that answering my emails was taking time away from shipping items, and they would just as soon refund my money than have to deal with this transaction any longer. HA! We’ll see about that! I will NOT be bullied into giving in to the crazy demands of an Evil Corporation who preys on the innocence of people who just want a stupid Sons of Anarchy sweatshirt! Cancel the transaction? NEVAHHH! Muahahahaha!

So I started to write another furious, spiteful email informing the Seller of my refusal to be neglected as a paying customer. Then, I stopped writing it. How long would this go on? How long will I be at the mercy of this faceless scam artist? I can end this. I decided to cut my losses and admit defeat. Sure, it may scar my reputation in the crazy-competitive world of the online sweatshirt-buying biz, but who cares? I can take the high road here (see MOM??) and sleep well tonight.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Week. End.

I am the bride left at the alter. I’m sitting here, in my Vikings jersey, cradling a can a Coors Light, and thinking about what Might Have Been, reliving what went wrong. We lost today. The Vikings lost. Two in a row. It’s getting rougher to cheer, the triumphant words getting stuck in my throat. But, we must move on. The next game is a blank slate. We can begin again.

I’m moving on like any sane woman would: by watching a movie about polygamy. Yes. Thank you, Lifetime TV. Nothing heals an open wound like a movie about multiple wives and a foreshadowed murder. Sweet, sweet catharsis.

I feel like I developed a relationship with my weekend. The Honeymoon Phase started with a late afternoon nap on Friday, and concluded with an early afternoon nap on Saturday. I was gently (abruptly) awoken by the appearance of Geo and his dad at our front door, after a round of golf. Me + snoring nap on a recliner = where’s my time machine? Gah!

Oh well, the relationship moved on, steadily. Reliably. I ran my errands, wore my sweatpants, neglected to brush my hair. Still, the weekend was good to me. Then came Temptation. I spent a night at Liz's drinking wine and envying every last detail of her perfectly-designed new apartment. I came home feeling like a frat boy. The mismatched furniture, the dirty rugs, the framed posters of celebrities hung at odd angles. I thought I wanted more. But I bought Swiffer dusters, I reorganized book shelves, I moved books around. The whole house smelled like 409 and a Clean Linen scented candle, and I felt better.

After the rush of temptation passed, the weekend and I moved into experimentation. Geo and I visited a coffee shop this morning that I had never been to. We bought gooey cinnamon rolls, something called Puppy Dog Tails and black coffee. I was glad for the new experience.

Alas, after the utter disappointment of the football game, I realize I must cut my losses. I’ve decided to officially break up with the weekend, and move on with my life. Our relationship has run it’s course. And now, sitting here in my Vikings jersey, and watching the droplets of condensation on my beer can slip onto the coffee table, I know that this was not meant to last. You know, we had our ups, our downs, our tests, and our triumphs. But I must move on. I am in search of something greater. A week-long vacation, perhaps. I want the Real Thing.

So, I welcome this coming week with open arms. We are defined by our past relationships, and this weekend has taught me that complacency does not a perfect weekend make. Sure I may have spent the majority of the weekend in a ponytail and sweatpants, but I wasn’t ready to give it my all. Next weekend, maybe. Maybe next weekend will be The One.

Thursday, September 16, 2010


Brace yourselves. I have no idea what's about to come out of this blog...I’ve truly outdone myself in way of the Procrastination Department. I have not done any of the following things I needed to do tonight: Laundry, cleaning my room, writing my blog, running a few errands, making a nice balanced dinner. Instead, I’m curled up on the couch, watching TV, drinking some wine, and eating left over giant cookie cake from Geo‘s birthday. My roommate Tina and I did run ONE errand: Trader Joe’s for some wine. Other than that, I’m a piece of blahhhhh tonight. This will really hurt me tomorrow morning when I wake up, trip over 12 pairs of shoes on my way to find something to wear to work. I loathe those mornings. And yet, still I do no laundry, I clean no room.

However, Tina and I have just had a wonderful idea. We were just talking about having babies. As in, how little we actually know about having babies. Yeah, we really don’t know very much at all. Turns out? It sounds pretty disgusting. So, we decided to have another glass of wine and try and watch a live birth. Neither of us has seen one before. And with the news of Prinna having another baby in April, I feel like, as a good aunt, I should really know a little more about this. Maybe as a woman I should know more about this…

Um, okay. So….check that off the list of things I shouldn’t have done tonight.

Thursday nights are just weird. It’s like thisclose to Friday, and I’m already ready to sleep until 11 a.m. tomorrow. I get bad ideas on Thursday nights. I’m so much more impressionable. Did you guys know that in some European countries the work week is only 32 hours long? That would mean I’d be done today. And then I’d have more time for the very European-y things I’d no doubt partake in. You know, eating some bread at a roadside bistro, not going to the dentist, wearing kicky hats, and complaining about the obnoxious yanks, things like that. Meh, I’d probably procrastinate on those things too.

I’ve gone way off topic. I’m not quite sure what the topic even is. I’ve lost focus. This is what I get for procrastinating and not thinking this blog through. Now, it’s just a random mish mash of things. Oh well, it’s basically the weekend anyway, so let’s just call it a day, shall we? Random or not, I hope you have a great weekend!

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Wednesday Winner

Well, as they say at every awards show, “It’s an honor just to be nominated”. I hope that’s true, because this week was full of people who deserve the title Wednesday Winner. However, there can be only one.

Nominee #1: My Sister-in-Law Nicole.
Reason for Nomination: Until recently, my hair looked like a bale of hay with a rat nesting itself in the back. It was gnarly. After one visit to see Nicole, voila! My hair is shiny and healthy(ish). She cut and colored my hair from the comfort of her own home, while I got to enjoy a glass of great wine from my brothers stash (he is a wine/liquor rep and really knows his stuff). And did I have to hand over $120 for this awesomely wonderful transformation? No, people. Family discount has its perks.
Added Bonus: Nicole also very generously forked over some great product to help keep my hair from descending into its previous state. For no charge.

Nominee #2: Geo
Reason for Nomination: His previously mentioned awesome shout out to my good girlfriending abilities on his pod cast was great. Also, on two of the days I came home from work last week, he had made me incredible dinners. Salad and everything!
Added Bonus: It’s his birthday today! Happy birthday, Geo!

Nominee #3: My long-distance girl friends
Reason for Nomination: After spending the weekend with them, it was made obnoxiously clear how much I really just love them. We crammed into one bathroom to get ready (even though there are three in Kelly’s house, it just makes sense to play human Tetris in front of one mirror). We crammed into one car to get from home to tailgate to bar to home. We crammed two week’s worth of fun into two nights. And yet, none of it felt restricting. It felt, actually, comfortable. Natural.
Added Bonus: Not really a bonus actually, but it may be a loooong time until I get to see them all together again. I might have to strike while the iron is hot.

Nominee #4: The Ladies at the VMAs
Reason for Nomination: From Chelsea Handler’s pretty hilarious hosting job, to Snookie sans-pouf, to Lady Gaga’s meat dress, to Ke$ha and her garbage bag dress, to Rihanna’s awesome performance at the beginning of the show (take THAT, Chris Brown), I really felt the ladies represented. Sure, most of them were representing the lowest-common-denominator, but I like that. I AM that.
Added Bonus: The Taylor Swift vs. Kanye West battle. Each of them sang unreleased songs. But Taylor’s was great. And a big slap in the face to the dude who nearly ruined her VMA moment only a year ago. Kanye’s performance was only ehhhh. Point: ladies.

Okay, drumroll. The winner of this week’s Wednesday Winner Award sister Prinna!

She announced today that she's having another baby! I'm so excited to spoil this newest baby rotten! Congratulations, Prinna and family! You have officially made my week/life! And I mean, I know having a baby is pretty exciting, but on top of all that: You are my Wednesday Winner. It doesn't get better than that!

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Mall of America('s Next Sweetheart)

Ahhhh…the Mall of America. Where people shop, get married, and go to college. Then ride the rollercoasters. Typically, I don’t go to the Mall all that much. It’s giant. Too many options. Too many pre-teens, and not nearly enough aisle-side beer vendors (Currently: Zero). But I put on my walkin’ boots and headed out in search of a birthday present or two for Geo. It’s his birthday tomorrow and I have left the shopping until the last minute, which is actually very unlike me. So, I had to go to the place with the most to offer.

It was a pretty typical trip at first. Then, much to my surprise, I discovered that Tim Gunn (from Project Runway and my dreams at night) was making an appearance there to sign some books and no doubt, be very concerned with the current state of Midwest “fashion”. A very familiar feeling rushed through me as I slithered my way through the tangled crowds of people. “If Tim Gunn sees me, I’ll be famous.”

Wait. Huh? Yeah. See, I’ve always had this notion that if a famous and/or powerful person saw me at the mall (this scenario always happens at a mall for unknown reasons), they’d want to meet me and then fly me to Hollywood to be a famous something-or-other. Like, they’d see me from across the masses of dull, boring, average people and say “Now THAT girl is what I’ve been looking for!” and then they’d have their bodyguard or agent or handler come and escort me to a limo waiting outside. Then it’d be off to Hollywood to become a rich, powerful [insert current career-obsession here].

I’ve had this feeling ever since I was little. My sister Padrin thinks it’s hysterical. When I was much younger, Padrin would take me to the mall to watch her shop (apparently, I loooooved it). Padrin tells me that I used to always put on a skirt before going to the mall. I had like mousey brown hair, in a bowl cut, I was scrawny, dirty, and usually scraped up from head to toe from playing outside in the trees with my friend Claire. But, I’d put on a skirt every single time, in the hopes that someone would see me and want me to be a model. Something about putting on a skirt made me feel like less of the tomboy I was, and more like a girl in the Gap Kids ads. I was the undiscovered talent.

At any rate, all those skirt-wearing days must have really seeped into my self-conscious. To this day, I’m sure that some TV star or reality show crew will stop me in the mall. These days, though, it’s not to approach me with a modeling contract. It’s way more vague now, and depends on what I’m feeling/wearing/carrying/doing at that moment. Tonight, for instance, I had on a coat, jeans and boots. So, nothing room-crossing there. But my hair is like incredibly shiny, and I actually dried and straightened it this morning. In my totally messed up 9-year-old subconscious, I thought, “Tim Gunn will see me, and then compliment me on my hair. And then ask me to be in a Garnier Fructis commercial.”

You guys, I KNOW this is weird. I KNOW that none of it really makes sense. But somehow, in my puny little pre-adolescent brain, it’s the life I concocted. And now it simply won’t go away. Sometimes it feels really weird that it hasn’t happened. I’ve seen plenty of famous people (local weatherman/overly-tanned “celebrity” Sven Sundgaard was just outside my house TONIGHT on a run around the lake), and nothing has ever come of it. I’m quite the opposite of famous, actually. Still, though, at least it encourages me to not go to the mall looking like a homeless person. Nothing wrong with that, I guess.

Monday, September 13, 2010

The Way to A Podcaster's Heart...Is Not Through His Stomach (Thank God)

Today I was treated to a sneak-peek at the boys' pod cast. Perek, Mitch, Chad, and Geo have been in the process of developing, recording and editing their own pod cast and tonight I got to listen to it. Don’t be jealous, people. My early-adopter status comes after years of dedication to the guys. I’ve literally spent hours watching and re-watching the video of their Boys Trip to South Dakota. Oh, and also, I’m dating one of them. And another one of them is my brother. Whatever. I digress.

Anyway, back to their pod cast. I have to hand it to them. It’s really funny. And I actually learned some things. I can’t wait for the next one! As soon as it’s up and running, I’ll let you guys know. And for you male readers: You especially will love it, I promise. Okay, so they have this special segment every month where they each have to do a challenge for the next month. Then at the next pod cast, they share their results. I bring this all up because I didn’t know what this month’s challenge was until I listened tonight.

Here’s the gist of it. All the guys had to do something “altruistic” for their girlfriends/wives/someone special for a month. Without telling them. You know, fix something that they get nagged about and see what happens. Cleaning, morning routines, etc. So, on comes Geo. He mentioned, with NO prompting, that I do not nag. That I really don’t bug him about anything. I’m just that great of a girlfriend. Okay, Geo, major major points there. So, Geo’s challenge was simply to accept food when I offered it. Rough, right?

Let me try and explain what makes this “challenging”. Geo and I are Jack Sprat and his wife. I gain weight after just looking at a bagel. Geo has the metabolism of a hummingbird who‘s on a steady diet of 5 Hour Energy. Needless to say, we eat very different meals. Geo’s McDonald’s, I’m egg whites. And one of the oddest things Geo has ever said is that he doesn’t like cold food. He says “Every food is better hot, and everything hot is better.” Therefore, no salads. No carrot sticks. Not even a sandwich at Subway. And that’s like, 50% of my diet.

The problem with Geo’s “challenge” was that, because I’m not insane I have long since stopped asking Geo if he wants to try the low-fat, low-sodium wontons I make. Or the caprese salad with the perfect amount of balsamic drizzled on top. What it boiled down to is that all he “had” to eat was homemade grilled pizza, some Caesar salad, and some Asian-style chicken skewers that he actually already likes. Again: Rough, right?

I don’t know if I should be flattered or very insulted. I mean, on the one hand, it’s nice to know that I am not a naggy girlfriend, and that I really have no complaints about Geo. He really is amazing. But on the other hand, Geo basically had to force himself to eat my cooking. Is that a win? I mean, I guess I’ll take it. Come to think of it, I’ll gladly give up my responsibilities to feed others. I’ll take it as my reward for not nagging. Here’s a secret, too. I don’t even really like cooking. I’m not all that good at it. It’s really hard for me. I frequently burn things (and once set a pot of oil on fire), and the only thing I know about measurement is that a pint’s a pound the world around which has virtually no importance in the kitchen.

The point is, I’m really excited to be able to share their pod cast with you when it’s ready. I know you guys will all love it as much as I do. Plus, I’m going to go ahead and assume they’ll probably say awesome things about me every episode. It'll take up like half the episode, I'm sure. Well, unless it’s about how to cook anything more complicated than cereal.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Iowa: The Land of Opportunity (And Headaches)

So tired. So very very tired. What an awesome weekend though! I was in Iowa City this weekend with my girl friends for the Hawkeye football game and, though my body angrily disagrees with me, it was like no time had passed. It was just like the good ol‘ college days again. Is that a bad thing? I don’t think so. We hit up the same tailgates, the same bars, and ran in to lots of great friends we haven’t seen in awhile. But yeah, my body thinks I’ve over-exerted myself. It wants me to open an account with AARP, not a tab at the bar.

You know what’s awesome about Iowa City? Everything. I love that place. The momentum of the city is contagious. It’s Iowa, so everything runs a little bit slower. Everyone is a little more relaxed. And the gas is super cheap there. Maybe it’s because the corn for ethanol is like, everywhere.

Okay, so after spending a total of 9 hours in car by myself this weekend, I’ve discovered quite a bit about myself. One - turns out, I’m a terrible singer. I always thought I was pretty good. I had a mix of songs that I belted out for about 15 minutes before thinking “Wow, I really can’t listen to myself anymore”. So, I turned off the music and just thought about life. Which brought up discovery number two. I am pretty good company. During the silent drive, I made myself laugh exactly 6 times. And at one point, I laughed out loud during the little internal stand-up act I had going on about what it would be like to have a conversation with a squirrel. Okay, on paper that is definitely not funny. But you should have heard the squirrel’s voice. Hilarious.

Finally, I realized that I love driving. I love it. I definitely don’t get to do it a lot, and road trips are fun. Even when you’re by yourself. I love cruise control. I love random talk radio stations talking about corn prices and the plights of farmers. I love playing the Alphabet Game. This weekend, I won every single time I played.

But I’m really tired, you guys. All that fun and debauchery wore me out. My calves hurt from standing on an incline at the Magic Bus tailgate for hours and from wearing extremely high heels all night. My liver is considering submitting its Two Week notice. And for some reason, my right ear is really sore. My hands are covered in stamps from various bars, and my hair is just, well, ugh. I’m a hot mess. Were all my Sundays like this in college? Probably. Did it ever stop me? Probably not.

Well, thanks for the memories, Iowa. Thanks for letting me crash at your place, Kelly. Thanks for making the road trip, Madeline and Freda. And thanks to all the fine people at the Magic Bus and the Sports Column for making a girl feel like she never left the immaturity and irresponsibility of college. I’ll see you all again in a few weeks. I hope you’re ready. I hope I’m ready. But now, back in real life, I’ll be working on my squirrel stand-up act. Trust me, guys, it’s gonna be great.

Anyway, how was your weekend??

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Rainbows and Unicorns and Ice Cream!

When I woke up this morning, birds may as well have flown into my room and helped me get dressed. A deer could have poked its little venison-y head into my window and served me my coffee. It’s one of those days, people. A Disney fairy land. All was right in the world today. One of those days when I didn’t want to slump home and just eat my feelings.

I’ve basically been skating by all day in a haze of anticipation and positivity. Tonight: NFL starts. (Skol Vikes!). Tomorrow: I’ll be in Iowa City with my best girl friends for the Iowa Hawkeye game (On, Iowa!). Every annoyance, every stressful situation, everything between this morning and tomorrow is but a blip on my rose-colored radar. I can’t be fazed. “Pharon, is this a good time to tell you a long, boring story about a tree stump?” Absolutely!

It all comes down to perspective. I forgot to bring my lunch to work, and instead of running madly to Subway and back, I strolled briskly through the crisp fall air, smelled the aromas of the Farmer’s Market, and cared not when BOTH my iPod ear buds malfunctioned and shut down completely. I saw what I usually would have assumed to be a drug deal in broad daylight, but today I decided one man was giving the other man money for his help with cleaning his gutters. And during a particularly irritating conversation at work today, I zoned out and daydreamed about what a ray of sunshine would smell like.

After determining that a ray of sunshine would smell cinnamony, but taste like lemon cotton candy, I closed up shop and headed home, satisfied. I almost made myself sick with how much I was in love with the weather. Just chilly enough to wear my new coat! What an incredibly wonderful time of year! Wait, is that…? Yes! It’s a strip club flyer just blowing effortlessly through the prickly breeze! Look at how beautifully it bops around!

It’s saccharine gooeyness, I know. I’m on the verge of grossing myself out. And the proverbial cherry on top was when Madeline sent me a link to a Tumblr blog called the pursuit of happyness (typo on purpose). Basically it’s a blog full of inspirational quotes, sappy cutesy pictures, and hopeful insights for hard times and tough lessons. I spent waaaaaay too much time on that blog. I leaned my chin on my left hand and smiled continuously as I scrolled through cheesy post after cheesy post.

Yup, all is right in the world folks. I’m coasting through the day on the wings of an animated toucan through a city made of rubies. Now, if only that deer would poke its head in my front door and serve me a beer…

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Wednesday Winner

Well, you knew the time was coming. You knew, in your heart of hearts, that I couldn’t give you a shallow, self-serving Wednesday Winner every week, didn’t you? The time has come, dear friends and faithful readers, to reveal that this week, the Wednesday Winner is someone who is actually a person, and actually someone I hung out with this week.

That up there, ladies and germs, is my mom, Martha. On first glance, I know you thought, “Wait, you hung out with Sally Field this week, Pharon?” But no, the striking resemblance my mom bears to the star of such projects as Cybil, Mrs. Doubtfire, and Boniva commercials has not played a part in this week’s selection process.

Now, I don’t know if my mom even reads my blog (FACE! She reads it every single day), but last night, as I was leaving her and Prinna at the mall, she casually yelled over her shoulder, “HEY! Maybe I’ll be the Wednesday Winner this week!” Well Mom, your time has come. And sure, while the fun shopping trip we went on last night was a factor*, it was but one of several reasons you have won this week.

*When we went shopping, my mom “treated me” to a couple things at the mall. One of which was a pair of grey heels. They are even better than the grey shoes I originally drooled over. Yummy.

Keeping in mind that this is a weekly award, I shall limit my reasons to events that transpired in this week alone. I've got all the juicy stuff saved up for a rainy day...

Alright, Reason 1: This week was my parents 39th Anniversary. Say whaaat? That feat alone deserves a pat on the back…or possibly a head examination. How do you keep a marriage together for 39 years? Answer: Be my parents. She got an iPad from my dad for their anniversary. In the spirit of honesty and hilarity, I am inclined to tell you that, well, she hates/is not good at texting. She doesn't use iTunes. And sometimes she gets confused on Facebook (“What’s the difference between Top News and Newsfeed?!”). But, now she’s got an iPad and really loves it. Success!

Reason 2: I love shopping with my mom. And not just because of the above-mentioned perks I get. But typically I can manage to get my mom out of her comfort zone a little bit. This week, instead of buying her 4th go-to pair of brown loafers, she got the cutest pair of Rocket Dog gray flats. She would NEVER have picked them out had she been alone. Historically, I’ve also been (at least partly) responsible for her first pair of Jessica Simpson shoes, and her gorgeous bluish/purpley one-shoulder dress she wore to Perek’s wedding. I like that she actually takes my suggestions sometimes. Other times, of course, she’ll laugh until she’s red in the face while I stand there holding up a bedazzled pair of jean shorts urging her that she totally has the bod for them.

Reason 3: During the planning/execution phases of setting up for my niece’s birthday party at Prinna’s on Monday, my mom just sort of quietly left the room while I abused the feathers and glue sticks. After a little while, I looked up and saw her quietly repainting and reorganizing one of Prinna’s closets. While she may not enjoy harnessing the creative juices that flow out of a glitter pen, she does have a knack for keeping busy and being productive.

Reason 4: When I called her this week, she said answered with “What up?”

Reason 5: Finally, this week my mom wins the prize, because she is hilarious. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not (when ordering a pretzel last night, she said “I don’t like cheese. I’ll have the parmesan pretzel.” Uh….) Also she’s honest with me. I was complaining to her about something life-changing, a ski trip I think, and during my little whine-a-thon, she straight up told me I was not good at taking the high road and that I was being a jerk. Touche, Mother.

So Mom, here’s to you. Thanks for making my week this week. And might I add “I like you! I really like you!”

Tuesday, September 7, 2010


I’m getting ready for my solo road trip to Iowa City this weekend. I’m meeting up with Freda, Madeline, and Kelly for the U of Iowa vs. Iowa State football game, and I. Am. Stoked. In preparation for my travels, I’ve begun My Packing List. I absolutely love making lists. And since the rest of my week is pretty crazy, tonight is really the only time I have to prepare.

I’m a really bad packer. I always over pack, and not in the “I just don’t know what the weather is going to be like” kind of way. I pack 6 different pairs of shoes for two nights away because I just don’t know what I’ll feel like wearing, and I like to have options. So packing is a big job for me. But while I may bring 7 sweatshirts, I’ll forget pants. And thus the need for a List.

So far, my Packing List consists of 3 categories: Clothes, Accessories, Other Stuff. Then there are subcategories that are broken down by day. So, Friday, I’ll need these 2 pairs of pants, these 4 shirts, and these 2 pairs of black heels to choose from. And this continues on through the end of the trip. And because I forget things all the time, there are things included on there like KEYS. Really, Pharon? You really think you’ll be DRIVING to Iowa and realize you’ve forgotten your car keys? I’m impossible…

One time while packing for Mexico, I had Geo read me my list back to me so I could make sure I had everything. He read,”Okay, um…comfy jeans?” Check. “Regular jeans?” Check. “Black shirt with thing on collar?” Check. “Black shirt without thing on collar?” Check. “Thing for the night? What is that?” I said “Check” and quickly moved on. I realized at that moment that my lists are unintentionally coded. Instead of writing “my blanket” I wrote “thing for the night”, embarrassed that someone would find the list and discover that I still have my childhood blanket (another post all in itself). So besides the vague descriptions of clothes that only I can understand, I guess I also code items that I wish didn’t have to be on the list, but MUST be included out of fear of forgetting them. I remember a list I made once that had “Thing I Need” under the Miscellaneous header, which to this day I have no idea what it was. I had out-coded myself.

I don’t know what it is about lists, but I just feel incredible when I can check off items. I have about 6 lists running at any given time in my life. Right now it’s: Blogs I Must Read, Blogs I Must Write, Books I Want to Read, Gift Ideas, Target List, and a list of offensive Russian Phrases that might come in handy some day. I feel so organized! And this doesn’t include my many, many, many To Do Lists. I have a To Do list at work (two, actually), I have Things to Do This Month, Things To Do Today, and just general things I have to do in my lifetime. You know, stuff like “Understand Math”. Sometimes I’ll add items to the list after I’ve done them, just so I can check them off.

So, I’ve got my Packing List almost done. I’ve put it into 3 columns, and made all the bullets into check boxes. I can’t wait to start checking things off. Tonight, I’m going shopping with my mom and Prinna, which will be good because just now I added a header called, “Things to Buy”. A list within a list. Perfection.

Monday, September 6, 2010

The Totally Outrageous Party-Filled Weekend…or not

I’m not entirely stoked to go back to work tomorrow. It’s been a great weekend, with fantastic weather, and hours upon hours of free time and I‘m pretty sad to see it go. My big project this weekend, though, was planning my niece Annabelle’s 5th Birthday party. It was sort of a surprise party, because Prinna gave me the theme and Annabelle knew there was a party. But, for a 5 year old, walking into a house fully decorated and full of people is as surprised as you want to get. I thought there was a 50% chance she’d freak out when we all yelled “SURPRISE!” and start crying. Luckily that didn’t happen.

I love planning parties. I love decorating, buying supplies, adding little touches that no one notices but really pull everything together. Give me a budget, or better yet no budget at all, and I can plan the crap out of a party. For Annabelle’s, the theme was Fancy Nancy. It’s a children’s picture book about a little girl who likes everything to be sparkly, feathery, and well, Fancy. So, natch my mom and I bombarded Prinna’s house with feathers, glitter, balloons, and bright colors. My other niece Rachel and I made 2 gigantic banners that said “OOH LA LA” and “HAPPY BIRTHDAY FANCY ANNABELLE”! We dressed Annabelle up in a sparkly tutu, glitter make up, a tiara, and beads. She looked hilarious. I mean, adorable.

Now I’m just totally wiped out though. All that sugar, all that activity, and all those people just wore me out. I feel like I’m 100 years old and just got back from performing at a circus. Plus, kids parties are not good ideas for someone watching her girlish figure. Oh well, it was totally worth it.

Between the party planning with my mom, I spent my weekend doing nothing. I accomplished painting my nails, but then took a nap while they were still a bit wet and now have sheet marks on them. Accomplishment Fail. I slept on the couch one night because the house was empty and I was scared to be upstairs in a desolate house. Grown-Up Fail. I picked up my dirty purse from the dry cleaners. Pilgrim Cleaners Fail. And I had big plans of throwing a September-themed party at my house on Sunday night, but instead watched Star Wars while Geo slept on the couch next to me. Social Life Fail. Adding these all up would lead some people to think that this weekend was a failure. But sleeping late, enjoying my coffee on the porch during the beautiful mornings, catching up on DVR’d TV, and planning an adorably fun party are major successes in my book.

Labor Day: thanks for memories, pal. You were a welcome break that I shall remember fondly until Thanksgiving. My determination to spend this weekend not laboring was a beautiful success, and if I weren’t so exhausted from eating cupcakes, I’d pat myself on the back. And now, back to our regularly scheduled work week…

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Do You Remember?

Finally! The Labor Day weekend can begin! I’ve treated myself to taking Friday off, and look forward to filling my long weekend with hours upon hours of not Laboring. I did some research (a.k.a. briefly breezed through the Wikipedia entry) on Labor Day. Much as the name suggests, Labor Day is a day to celebrate the “working man”. To give rest to those who build the foundation on which this country stands. Also, it’s the official start to the NFL season. w00t.

When I was little I thought Labor Day had something to do with babies. You know, the whole “she’s going into labor!” thing? Yeah, I thought that’s what this weekend was all about. I don’t remember what I must have thought happened to spark the annual federal holiday in terms of a pregnant woman about to give birth, but I imagine it had something to do with the stork. Maybe it was his only day off. Or, his busiest day of the year. Who can say? The fact of the matter is, all things about that thought process were wrong. Such is life…

So Labor Day. The finest holiday I do not understand. According to sources (Wikipedia), there is a declaration that there are supposed to be parades and speeches by prominent leaders. Sounds, uh, fun? I’ll pass on those things. Instead, I will celebrate my love and appreciation for fellow workers by sleeping late, drinking beer, painting my nails, and decorating for my niece’s 5th birthday party. I can’t believe they didn’t include ANY of those national pastimes in the original declaration. Fools.

I do know one thing for sure. Labor Day is the day I start listening to Earth, Wind and Fire’s September on repeat. It’s pretty much the world’s greatest song of all time. I dare you to listen to it and not feel warm inside your bones. There was a perfect Labor Day a couple years ago when my friend Ally, Geo, Perek, and I hung out and played games all day and listened to the song on repeat. For like 3 hours. The best song for the best time of year. Now, I’m going back to watching the final pre-season Vikings game and gearing up for a delicious weekend of relaxing, enjoying the weather, and a whole lotta this:

(Happy Labor Day, kids. Be smart. Be safe. Be Youtiful.)

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Wednesday Winner

This Wednesday’s Winner is a toughie. I was stressed out all week, and I was just not a happy camper most days. I was not a fun person to be with. Geo did the best he could, and my girl friends gave 110%, but not even the proposition of a Happy Hour with Lana and Valerie could save my sour week, and Happy Hours ALWAYS cheer me up. Anyway, so I decided that this week, my Wednesday Winner is:

Yes people, my couch. My couch and I had a pretty steamy affair this week. We were inseparable. We ate together, we took a nap together, and Couch didn’t judge me when I watched a Lifetime movie marathon. I spilled some pink Crystal Light on it, and it washed right off. It was so forgiving.

This couch is an awesome couch. I bought it, along with it’s loveseat partner, 4 years ago with Perek and Mitch. We actually went shopping and picked them out together. Our first big decision as roommates, and it was a huge success. While I’m not exactly stoked about the taupe-y, brownie color, it’s stayed in excellent condition. Tens of thousands of houseguests have crashed on the couches, and still they hold their form. That reliability really came in handy this week.

So, Couch and I have been pretty tight this week. We’ve rekindled the love we haven’t shared since my pounding headache on New Years Day. Couch has seen me on my worst days. This week, it supported me when I kicked my stilettos off after work and plopped my feet up on it’s cushiony goodness, and held me up during the rough Vikings game.

It’s all I can think about at work, sometimes. Coming home after a very long, rough day at work and seeing that lovely Couch Face just made me smile this week. The pillows said to me “Come, Pharon, lay down your head and let me hear about your day.” The blanket asked me “What can I do to make you comfortable? I’ll go anywhere you want me to go.“ And the cushions whispered, “Oh, Pharon, I love you. You’re the best. Have you lost weight? You feel like you’ve lost weight. It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll love you no matter what.” What a great friend Couch has been to me.

However, as difficult as it may be, I am realizing that I may need to take a little break from Couch. I’ve become too dependent. We’re becoming “that couple” who do everything together, and are rarely without one another. Sure it’s nice to have that one thing that you can really rely on, but one of these days, I’ll need to stand on my own two feet. But because of all it’s help and the time we spent together this week, I declare My Couch the Wednesday Winner. This week, there IS a prize. I have every intention of cleaning and vacuuming it after all it’s hard work. Who knows? Maybe I’ll buy it some new pillows to spruce it up. Well, as long as the pillows are super comfortable, and know what they’re in for.

Congrats, Couch!