Zzzzzzzzz...

Okay, I'm super tired. I've been run ragged all week and all I want to do is to go to sleep. I've spent several, SEVERAL hours being self-conscious and trying to make my routine more glamorous than it is.

Listen, me likey my own stuff. Even though I have lived with Geo for YEARS and now live with two other people, I have definitely carved out my own very comfortable, very unattractive personal routine. I had designed a very specific shower timeline, a carefully crafted tooth-brushing regiment. Then, all of a sudden, Geo's back and I've lost it. I am all nutso and stressed and chronically brushing my teeth. 

So, here's the skinny...I have a big weekend of packing and moving in my immediate future. Seriously, I am moving in, oh, four days... Combine that with my constant awareness of how much I publicly burp and how bad I probably smell at any given time, and I have my work cut out for me. I have to figure out a way to look relatively attractive while sweating and packing up my blankie. 

Oh, and meanwhile, I'm trying to be very interesting and exciting for Geo. He's spent too many hours in the library to come home to a ho-hum social life. I was really hoping Punky would keep him company long enough to distract him from the fact that I need to spend several hours painting my nails while watching Lifetime TV.

Yeah. So I'm tired. My hair hurts from being yanked into unfamiliar hairstyles. My face is all caked with makeup. My body hurts from being forced into "flattering" positions. All that would be fine if I weren't also super TIRED from being super eager to do any and everything to show Geo I'm still fun. 

In reality, I'm just super tired. And judging by Geo's reaction to my latest exciting story about my girlfriends Kelly and Madeline, he's just super tired too. Let's go to sleep, shall we?

Dear Crabby

Hey Squares. What's shaking? I've written...oh...9 blogs today and I'm creatively drained. Good thing it's time for Dear Crabby! I need these prompts like Kim Kardashian needs a staff of lawyers on retainer. Awayyyyyy we go!

Dear Crabby,
How old is too old to get a body part pierced? I'm 36 and have always wanted to stick a shiny diamond in my snotty nose. Will it look dumb??
Thanks,
Waiting with anticipiercing


Hey there, Waiting-
Okay, so this is weird. Not even ONE week ago did I break the news to my friend Rachel at work that I had my eyebrow pierced for like 5 or 6 years. She was shocked. I know, I'm so wholesome! So I, of course, am biased. I love piercings. I like small, unobtrusive ones, though. Ears are great. Eyebrows, noses, you know. Ew, except those disgusting ones that stretch earlobes out enough to fit my fist though. Those are just gnarly. But I am a fan of piercings. I got mine done on a whim. On my way to a class in college. My parents hated it at first. But this girl pulled it off. When it came time for my sister Prinna's wedding, my mom even said "You know, you can leave it in. I don't even notice it anymore." Hooray! I've even considered getting it done again. Don't tell my parents. Anyhoozle, my advice is that if you keep it small and classy, you can get away with a piercing. Yes, even at 36. Just don't get any crazy-big gauges or those creepy bars. I say do it! Send in a pic if you do!!

Dear Crabby,
My wife wants to start having kids. I'm definitely not ready. I love our lives now, and I'm still into going out and not being broke. Also, I think babies smell bad and have oddly large heads. How can I break the news to her?
Thanks,
Not the Only Boy Against Babies (just) Yet

Hey there, NO BABY-
Yes, babies smell bad. And YES they look suspiciously like aliens with their huge heads. But, unfortunately, it is a well-known fact that what a lady wants, a lady gets. Your wife will win this fight. Or you'll get divorced. Your choice. You could probably delay the, uh, event, but eventually you'll be wiping a butt that isn't yours. And the weird thing about kids is that even though you hate everyone else's, you'll have no choice but to love your own. It's God's way of making us grow up. I say just have an honest conversation with the wifey. Tell her you're freaked out that you're going to miss out on all the fun us non-breeders are still having. But try - JUST TRY - to listen to her when she tells you about what she wants. I mean, she's going to win, but try and be cool about it. And take heart! You'll still have plenty of fun whispering in the garage with the guys while you drink beer and talk about poop and spit up. Yay!

Crabby Crabby Crabby...
What's with all the hipsters?
Aloha,
Hipster Hater

Hi HH,
I'm SO OVER hipsters. Now, PLEASE let me get back to hating everything and shining up my lensless glasses...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand.....scene. Good questions this week, dudes! Thanks for giving me stuff to write about so I didn't have to come up with any of my own material. Help me out for next week, wouldja?! Email your questions to pharonsquare@gmail.com and we'll get you all fixed up.

For Your (Useless) Information

It's day 3 of my major purge efforts. I've gutted my closet, my shoes, my makeup and my sock drawer. Tonight I tackled my super messy desk. So, I was going through all these papers and whatnot and found an envelope. On the outside it read "IMPORTANT PAPERS." I was all "Oooh, what could be in HERE?" Turns out? It was full of super important papers. And by "full of super important papers" I of course mean "full of useless garbage that no longer makes sense." Tomato, tomahto.

College people do not know what "IMPORTANT PAPERS" are. At least I didn't. The first thing I found was a handwritten list my friend Madeline and I had compiled called "People We Want to Marry". On the list was like "Person who invented beer. Person who invented F.A.C. and The Vikings." Aim high, ladies. Don't wanna lose THAT gem of a document!

There was an old check register. Completely empty. Turns out my fiscal responsibility developed at an older age...However, there was ALSO an unopened bank statement from my college bank, which could arguably be referred to as "important". My guess is that I was too scared to open the Letter From The Bank but figured I may have to refer back to it should I have to file for bankruptcy or something. At least that shows some long-term planning skills.

I also found a clipping out of a phone book (what's a phone book!?) that was an ad for something apparently. It had a drawing of a dad holding a baby...well, you guys just need to see this.

Um, guys?? What kind of person not only cuts that out of a phone book but then makes a conscious decision to add it to an envelope supposedly dedicated to "Important Papers"? The kind of person who STILL thinks it's funny, that's who...

Eventually, I found some old pictures of me looking skinny that I concurred were indeed important. And also a poem I had written for my best girlfriends in college - which was hilarious. I moved those to my NEW grown-up "Important Papers" folder with health insurance and 401(K) info.

Among the other vital pieces of information were a laminated beer label (what?! Where did I get access to a laminating machine? Also, why was I ever drinking Bud Light?), a Gap receipt for what appears to be a $75 sweater, a user guide for my Nokia cell phone, an empty matchbook, and a note from a bartender at our favorite bar. It read "ALREADY BEEN HERE!" and it was our free pass back into the bar because there was a $10 cover and we really wanted to leave and get a grilled cheese sandwich. That note was basically world's coolest Get in Free pass. That definitely went into my new "Important Things" folder.

I wasn't sure if I should be pleased or disappointed in myself. On the one hand, it really shows that life was a little simpler back then. On the other hand, it was proof that I had some growing up to do. Now, I just need to come to terms with the fact that I decided to KEEP that phone book ad and a permission slip from a bartender in my new grown-up folder.

Happy MemTOErial Day

Yeah, so the title of this blog is, you know, ehhhh... However, I've been ready for this post all weekend. You know how people constantly take pictures of their FEET on vacation? Like "Hey, here's proof that my feet were near some body of water!" You know what I mean. Anyway, I didn't go ANYwhere this weekend, but I was all about playing footsie on this vacay.

So, here's my crazy Friday night. Watching a Law and Order: SVU marathon with Punky.

Then Claire and I spent Saturday afternoon doing crafts.

Finally - FINALLY!!! - Geo came home for the summer!

And we went out for dinner...

After a delish din, we decided to go bowling.

The next morning, Geo had a hankering for some $1 blueberries and corn dogs, so we went to the farmer's market.

Geo needed a nap after all the marketing, so I decided to go through all my clothes and shoes and take out the crap things. (I ended up with 2 giant lawn bags of stuff I don't want.)

After an afternoon of organizing and purging, Geo and I needed a night with some friends.

Yay! It was such a fun night. The next day, we decided to get a nice 18 holes in...on the putt putt course (Spoiler alert: I lost by 4 strokes).

Then, Geo got really annoyed with taking pictures of our feet, so he agreed to grill some pork loin, asparagus and pineapple if I would just STOP taking pictures of his feet.

Overall, it was a super dope weekend. Geo's back! Hooray! How was your Memorial Day weekend?

Clothes Call

I have nothing of import to discuss tonight. Instead, I need to worry about my roommate Claire. Guaranteed, on any given day, the girl has 90 percent of her clothes on INSIDE OUT. Or backwards. Or inside out AND backwards. See, she's a GROWN UP. A homeowner. A crazy-successful ATTORNEY. And yet?

And yet...

There are six out of seven days a week when I need to intervene on the proper direction of her clothing. Yay! I'm helping!

She tells me how mortified she is when she finds herself in a client meeting, staring down her neck at the itchy tag of her shirt. Or when she comes home from a long day at work, takes her suit off in the living room and gets annoyed when I double over, laughing, at the fact that her skirt, tank and probably underwear are on inside out.

Claire bemoans "How does this happen to me?! Shouldn't I have a 50/50 chance of getting my clothes on right?!"

Oh, Claire, no...As an adult you should have a 100/0 chance of putting your shirt on the right way.

Listen, in her defense, the girl is BUSY. She's definitely much more important than I am, so when I say things like "It's okay! It happens to everyone!" She's all "It doesn't happen to YOU!" And I'm all "Well, no, it doesn't, but wolf sweatshirts are pretty easy to get on the right way the first time."

I'll miss this about Claire. I'll miss a friend looking at me, earnestly, asking me what I think about her outfit. Then I can say something like "Well, it'd look perfect, except your leggings are on inside out. Besides that? Perfection!" Yes, that's a definite perk/responsibility I once owned living here.

Oh, I should mention...I was officially approved for my new apartment today and will be moving out in early June. For a few weeks now, Claire and I have been arguing about what we'd miss the most about living with each other. She'll miss my angry morning attitude, and I will miss her haphazard dressing. After twenty billion years of being friends, I guess we just understand how to appreciate the little things...

Dear Crabby

Hooray! It's time for another installment of Deeeeeeear Crabby! Are you as psyched as I am? Probably not... Let's get started.

Dear Crabby,
I feel like a total loser admitting this, but I really need some advice. I am a 27-year-old guy, and I'm sort of, um, afraidofthedark. I know, I know. It's pathetic! But I can't help it. Beyond suggestions of therapy or just "manning up," do you have any tips for how to deal with it? Usually it would be no problem. I just sleep with my light on. But I've started dating a girl who I really like, and she's started spending the night at my house every once in a while lately. For the first couple nights, I just stayed up, freaked out and scared out of my mind. Then I started turning the TV on and muting it, but she said the lights kept her up. What can I do?
Let the taunting begin...
Dude in the Dark

Hey Dude,
MOI?! Make FUN of a reader? NEVER! I mean, I'm not one to pick on the pathetic. (Though if I were, I'd say something like "What scaaaaary thing do you think is lurking in the dark? COMMITMENT?! Ha!") Okay, so this sounds like a real problem. I personally need to sleep with SOUND, like a TV, otherwise I start hearing all the freaky house sounds. I say you need to get her to adjust to the light that you need. That's certainly easier than you adjusting to peeing your pants while your heart races in bed. Turn on the TV after she's fallen asleep, for example. Or, get her like an adorable Overnight Kit. Chicks love theme presents! Get like a toothbrush, some sample-size toiletries for her, a brush, and then get her one of those sleeping eye masks. The satin kind. They're AWESOME. Geo says I look like a freaky bug when I wear mine, but whatevs. It'll block the light for her and make her feel all pampered and crap. That way, you can turn on a light, suck your thumb and sleep like the big ol' baby you are. (Sorry, had to get one jab in...)

Dear Crabby,
So, I'm considering getting a nose job. I've had this bump in the middle of my nose for as long as I can remember. Half my friends say they like my nose and they say it adds "character" to my face. The other half are all "Gee, took ya long enough." I'm torn, though! What if something goes wrong? What if it looks worse? What if I become addicted to plastic surgery!? Do you think I should do it?
Thanks pal,
Who Nose?

Well hello, Nose,
I'm pretty sure plastic surgery is one of the most personal decisions a gal may ever have to make. I have no idea what your nose looks like now. Is it, like, super ugly and ruining your career or something? Then sure, go in and get your "deviated septum" fixed. Plenty of people do it, and it's probably as safe as any other procedure. It won't look worse, unless they accidentally ADD TO the bump. So no worries there. But if you're this unsure about the decision, I say hold off. Take some time to smell the roses with your giant shnoz and think about it. That bump isn't going anywhere, so you've got time to think this through. After you're sure what YOU want to do, be confident in your decision and stop asking other people for their advice. Especially mine!

Dear Crabby,
What's WRONG with guys!? Why are they all such jerks?! I am sick of being treated like crap by idiot men who only care about watching TV and drinking beer. I deserve more, right?
Gracias!
MEN SUCK!!!!!!!!!

Okay, MEN SUCK,
You're a little scary right now. Sorry you probably just got dumped, but don't go knocking TV watching and beer drinking and then expect ME to have sympathy for you. I don't come to YOUR house and hate on YOUR hobbies. Anyway, guys are jerks because you are attracted to jerks. That's why. Not ALL guys are jerks. I know literally ones and twos of semi-normal, pseudo-thoughtful dudes. So the reason all the guys you like are mean to you and watch TV and drink beer and then dump you is because you're shopping in wrong department. Instead of browsing in the little boys department where they have men in hockey jerseys and hoodies, head on up to the Men's department, where they have guys in suits with manners and no mommy issues. Voila! You'll be jerk-free in no time. That, or take the stick outta your butt and watch some TV with the poor guy.

Another excellent week, guys! Help me out in the comments if you think I missed anything. And, as usual, email your freaky queries to pharonsquare@gmail.com and I'll throw you the lifeline you so desperately need. Thanks ya'll!

(Financial) Peace Out

If life as a grown up isn't exciting enough, my sister Prinna recently introduced me to a financial motivational speaker dude. This weekend, she loaned me a stack - STACK - of CDs that she tasked me with listening to in the coming weeks. According to her:

"Listen, I know it's not fun, but you NEED to listen to these CDs about financial planning. I would have LOVED to have had these before I got married. Consider them your wedding gift."

Yeah, thanks, but I have a feeling I'd rather have the Kate Spade cake cutting set.

Anyway, I took her advice. Prinna has never - in the history of time - given me bad advice. She's a mix of responsible and fun, so I have trusted her implicitly. I started listening to the first CD on my way home from her house. I just finished the first CD today and started the second. OF TWELVE. Twelve CDs guaranteed to give me Financial Peace.

Um, "peace"? I am ANYthing but peaceful.

The problem is, the guy - Dave Ramsey - is crazy charismatic. And Southern! Nothing says "You can trust me" more than a slight twang and pandering to women. (Except a British accent. That's unbeatable.) Anyhoozle, the guy is great. But He. Is. Terrifying. He's been throwing around words like "investments" and "debt" and "planning" and "financial responsibility." YIPES!

I called Prinna tonight to "thank" her for bringing this into my life. Geo, I'm sure, will be making a phone call himself shortly. I've been instructed by King Ramsey to discuss budgets and financial goals with my significant other. So far, I've learned that I am a financial hoarder and Geo may be a spender. I don't think I have to tell you that those are not exactly the most compatible combination.

Oh, hey, and HERE'S a fun fact - most marriages break up because of MONEY. That's reassuring, considering Geo and I probably are on the exact same page about everything...EXCEPT, maybe, finances. That's exciting to think about while planning a wedding!

So far, I've learned a lot about myself. I now know that I think money is terrifying. Whether you have it or not, it's really hard to manage. Oh, and guess what! There will be a day when I will have to rely on all my financial decisions that I made as an incredibly irresponsible twenty-something. That's, like, a horrible realization.

But I will stick with it. I will stick with it because Prinna thinks I should. I will stick with it because Dave Ramsey is - in spite of his horrifying reality checks - still very charming and pleasant to listen to. I will stick with it because I am too old to NOT have a PLAN...apparently. Mostly, I will stick with it because I really have a feeling it will be good blog fodder a very important life lesson.

Oh! Hey! And if every other crazy thing about me hasn't scared Geo off yet, my new-found love for a conservative financial planner may just be the last straw. In which case...Geo will call the wedding off because I'm insane and we'll each have a little more padding in our savings.

P.S. As if to add insult to injury, I had to just purchase several supporting materials to help me learn how to save and use money. Is that irony?

I Work Out

I had my first solo kickboxing class tonight. Usually I go with a friend, Chandra, who keeps me motivated. She's also engaged and when one of us is slacking, the other will yell out "I will NOT get married in a long sleeved wedding dress!" Hooray! Motivation! So I was super bummed tonight when I found out she wasn't going to make it to the class. I briefly considered skipping it (I don't want to the only loser in class with no punching buddy!) but made myself go. I had some added motivation, though.

New workout clothes!

Most importantly, I got some new kicks. I'm almost embarrassed to admit how long I've had my other running shoes (rhymes with shmive schmears) and they still look pretty clean. They're old, though. So I got some new ones this weekend and then really got into Must Have New Workout Gear mode. So, natch, I went shopping for workout clothes. See, ladies ALLLLLL know this. Nothing encourages a new dedication to working out more than new duds. There is something very inspiring about cute new outfits.

Working out in the same black pants, same ratty t-shirts and same crappy sports bras is so, I don't know, UNINSPIRING. Plus, my workout gear is dangerously similar to my pajamas, so it doesn't really make me feel all energized to put on the exact same thing I woke up in.

Okay, so shopping. It's soooo fun! I grabbed a pair of cropped workout pants, some cute "active" shirts and other items designed to keep everything in place while I flop around in a workout studio. I was feeling confident. Excited, even! I didn't even try them on! I was all "These will look amazeballs and make me super fit in no time!"

So tonight, I got all ready for class. I was pretty stoked that everything did, in fact, "fit." However, I failed to give myself the once over in the mirror before braiding my hair and grabbing my boxing gloves. (Million Dollar Baby's got nothin' on me.)

See, the worst part of working out in a studio is that all the walls are mirrors. And because I hadn't taken 3 1/2 seconds to look in my own, I - and everyone else - was assaulted with my new "look". One? My braids were super lopsided and two giant strands were sticking straight upwards. Cool, nerd. Then came the outfit.

First, I had on the new cropped pants on that were incredibly unflattering. Claire keeps telling me I have to stop wearing giant pants. I did not take her advice. So I had on short pants that were somehow wide-legged. Basically, I looked like I was missing the middle section of my legs. All thighs and ankles. HOT! #nothot

The pants went perfectly with, well, anything EXCEPT the shirt I was wearing. It was a long white tank with some pink design on one side. The long tank and the odd-lengthed (is that a word?) pants/shorts made me look like my torso was 100 yards long. Every girl wants short stub legs and a midsection that goes on for DAYS, right?! Sigh.

Oh, did I mention the shirt was totally see through too? Double sigh.

I was a hot mess. I was so mad at myself that when we were practicing the punches in the mirror, I considered ACTUALLY punching myself in the face. The worst part was that I managed to get an extra fierce workout in because, you know - even though they were ugly, still...NEW CLOTHES. But because I had actually worked up a serious sweat, I pretty much ruined my chances to return the clothes. (Right? I mean, I can't return them, can I? Or CAN I? No...no, I don't...maybe? Nah.)

Anyhoozle, I guess my only option is to do some more shopping. Notes to self: No giant pants. Try on clothes. Keep tags on.

Silly String

So, STRING is pretty awesome, amiright? I had forgotten all about my fondness for colored string until tonight when I babysat my nieces and nephew. Annabelle had just gotten home from a birthday party and we were looking through all her goodies. I only JUST remembered I still have stick-on earrings that I took out of the pile. Yup, I stole from a child. Anyway, one of the best things among all the trinkets were four pieces of string. Packaged as a "friedship bracelet kit", I nearly shrieked. Annabelle was all "What's this string for?!" And I was all "DUH. FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS!"

I sat and quick knotted up four bracelets for the girls and their Best Friends. It was some of my best work, too. I didn't have a safety pin to pin the end to my jeans, so I had Annabelle sit and hold while I showed her how to make a bracelet. It was all very wholesome. Do you guys remember making friendship bracelets? It took up DAYS of my adolescence. There were times when I'd have a 20-string bracelet going. The problem was, kids are fickle. I'd start making the bracelet for Emily, but would end up giving it to Jenny because Emily and I were no longer friends because she wrote a note saying SHE liked Eric. Or, uh, you know...some other super heinous crime against tweenagers.

Anyway...I came home from babysitting and dug through my old jewelry and lo and behold, found an old friendship bracelet. Who is it from? Unknown. Apparently, it was super important at some time, though. I looked at it and was like wow...

This thing is super ugly.

Is there anything grosser than wet string, worn for days and weeks until it gets so gnarly that it falls off in the bath? Puke. They are always so bright and intricate when you are making them. But afterwards? It's just, like, super gross string that starts to smell after about a week.

The one I found appears to be lavender, blue, white and pink. Clearly this so-called FRIEND knew nothing about me because this lady [points indignantly at myself] does not like lavender. Or blue. Plus, it was only BRAIDED. The ones I whipped together this afternoon were the kinds that are just one single strand of knots in color blocks. WAY COOLER than just a braid. Gee, thanks "friend" for taking 2 minutes out of your busy day of being my friend to braid this excuse for a bracelet...in colors I don't even LIKE.

I don't want to sound petty. I'm sure I was very impressed that some person gave me a friendship bracelet. They were the original Kabbalah bracelet...proof that you had friends who didn't want to invest TOO much in gifts. Everyone who was anyone had at least one of them on at any given time. Unless you didn't have friends. Loser.

Hopefully Annabelle and Eve's friends like the bracelets I made. I wonder if they'll love them SO much that in twenty years, they'll dig the germ infestations out of some old jewelry box and be like "Wow, gross. Where did this come from?" It came from your best friend, 6-year-old girl I've never heard of.

SSS

Well folks. Here we are. Knocking on the door of another weekend. It's not just "another" weekend, though. This is my last weekend sans Geo. I'm excited for him to come home, obvs, because there's a ton of stuff that is simply better with him here. Things like, oh, I don't know...planning a wedding? Besides that, I just am super pumped not to be the only single person in my group of friends anymore. The one girl ordering double cheeseburgers with extra onions with zero plans to work out and brush my teeth before bed. The pity invite to parties at our shared friends houses. The third wheel at everything. Plus, you know, he's my favorite person to be with, so that's a good thing.

So yeah, this is not just any other weekend. I am suddenly panicked, though. There was this episode of Sex and the City where those crazy gals talk about Super Secret Single behavior. You know, things you do when no one is around and no man is going to come knocking on your door to interrupt? Yeah. I've made those SSS behaviors my routine in the past year. Saying goodbye to sweatpants and an extremely lax shaving routine will be easy...it's SUMMER after all. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how many bad behaviors have wriggled their way into my everyday life that I'll need to adjust accordingly.

For starters? I am 100% percent responsible for my social life right now. Geo does NOT like napping until 10 p.m. on a Friday and then heading over to Liz's to drink wine and talk about how much we hate the Kardashians. He also does not enjoy spending an hour researching shoes and then spending an afternoon shopping for said shoes. He will NOT be happy with my current "laundry" method, either. That consists of wearing clothes once, throwing them on the floor and never picking them up again until I've run out of outfits hanging in my closet. I have a carefully mapped out plan in my room. I know exactly what dress is covering which wedge sandal that makes a nighttime trip to the bathroom both dangerous AND exciting!

I have also gotten really attached to this scent thing. My cousin Katie sells these Scentsy doohickeys. They are pretty little jar things, and then you put wax in them, turn on a light, and the wax melts and is all deliciously aromatic. My current choice of waxy scents is basically a mix of estrogen and cucumbers. It's positively feminine. You know who doesn't like yummy smelling girl things? BOYS. They'd prefer candles of panther sweat and football cleats. I refuse to give up my right to make rooms smell like unicorn perfume.

Hey! And what about my Saturday nights?! I've gotten by for many months either wearing a wolf sweatshirt or buried under my covers reading Fifty Shades of Gray. And guess what! Sometimes, all a girl wants to do on a Saturday night is put on her high school prom dress, which she can't zip up anymore, and cry into a cheap bottle of wine while she pages through old scrapbooks, mourning the loss of her super fit bod. Where does Geo fit into all of that? I'll tell you where he fits...cowering in the corner, begging for mercy while I cry out "Why?! WHY do my hips look like this now?!"

Well, whatever. I guess I'll spend this weekend not doing laundry, drinking wine in my prom dress, and bathing in feminine-scented candles. I guess I have my work cut out for me. How will I fit that all into my busy schedule of avoiding responsibility!?

Anyway, I've got to get to work planning at least one day of day-drinking with some friends (another thing Geo isn't into). I should also carve out some time to violently oppose physical activity. What do you have planned this weekend?

Dear Crabby

Well, that was fun. I met my friend Nick for a drink and some apps because that jerkface is leaving us here in the Mini Apple to move in with his girlfriend in the Big Apple. I warned him about the rats, but he promised he'd keep one as a pet and name her Punky. So, you know, that was...weird. Anyhoozle, good luck on your travels, former roommie. Try and not be disappointed when your gf does not have as many pairs of super awesome sweatpants as I do. Okay, so let's get on it!

Dear Crabby, Do you ever get that...not so fresh feeling? What do you do about it?
Love you!
Summer's Stephanie

Hey there, SS...
That question is a little something we bloggers call "OMG, gross...why are you talking to a stranger about that!?" (It's a technical term.) I think the bigger problem here is that you have a freaky need to share highly personal (and gnarly) information with a person you've never met. Have you never heard of WebMD? Or, I don't know, SEEING A DOCTOR? Sorry, hun, that sounds like a problem between you and some antibiotics. Good luck...

Dear Crabby,
I'll get to the point. I've got a big a$$. I love it, personally. It's perky and fun and all that. You know? So, one of my friends made a comment to another friend of ours that I needed to "get my fat a$$ to the gym." WTF is up with that?! Should I say anything? Is it as rude as I think it is?
Thank you, Crabby!
No Ifs Ands or Butts

Listen here, NIAOB,
Never, for ONE SECOND let some skinny tart tell you your a$$ is fat. If you LOVE it? I say flaunt it. I myself have long prided myself on the fact that Sir Mix-A-Lot was talking ABOUT ME when he expressed his love for big butts. Full disclosure? I wrote a whole paper about how much I loved my hindquarters in college. You know what grade I got? AN 'A'. And the professor also requested that I workshop it with the class. Should I have been too self-aware to share a paper about my butt with a class full of strangers? YES. Was I? No. Turns out, everyone loved it, though. I'm not bragging, it's just cold, hard facts. My point is that if you like your butt, or any part of your body for that matter, go ahead and LOVE IT. The best thing that any of us can do, in this world of jerkwads trying to keep us down, is take some pride in our own favorite things. And you know what? I say that if you are as upset about what your friend said as I would be, go ahead and confront her. It's bad enough being judged by strangers and haters. You shouldn't have to deal with it from your own friends.

Dear Crabby,
Is it douchey for a guy to wear a gold chain?
Send Help,
Gold Digger

Heeeeeeey Gold Digger,
Personally? Yes, I think it's "douchey", as you so eloquently put it. Guys and necklaces just don't do it for me. See, I've dated necklace-wearers. They were all pretty terrible people. Could that be a coincidence? Sure. But it's probably not. Geo doesn't have necklaces. He has several watches, way too many hats, cuff links, tie clips, and even a ring that he wears. But he does NOT wear necklaces. I super appreciate that about him. (Although, he did just tell me that the only way he'd wear a necklace was if it was a half heart and I had the other half. Then he laughed, grew 50 more chest hairs and punched a brick wall.) The point is, no average dude should wear a necklace. If he's a rapper or a priest, he can wear a necklace (odd that those two are so similar in appropriate neck wear). Other than that? No. I don't care if he calls it a chain or a necklace...it's very likely he shouldn't wear either.

How'd that go? I took some firmer stances than I usually do, so if I got it wrong, lemme have it. Go ahead and slap your two cents in the comments. For those of you with burning questions (NOT burning sensations...) go ahead and email pharonsquare@gmail.com. Thanks, ya'll!!

NOtorcycles

So, I had a blog written tonight. It was poignant and important and serious. I'm holding off on it, though, because I've been told it's, like, TOO AWESOME. Stay tuned, though. It'll come and your world will be rocked...trust that.

In the meantime, I'd like to discuss the current bane of my existence.

Motorcycles.

Listen, I'm sure they're wonderful and freeing and all kinds of crap. However, it is just, like, SUPER important for me to tell everyone that motorcycles are the worst things ever. They are. THE. WORST. THINGS. EVER.

Now, as a caveat, I'll say that I'm super obsessed with the show Sons of Anarchy, which is a super amazing show about motorcycle gangs. I totally respect the lifestyle and power of a good ol' fashioned motorcycle gang. Plus, hey...Charlie Hunnum is downright sexy with greasy, long hair.

But unless you have the appropriate cuts, turn off that godforsaken noise factory. It's VERY ANNOYING. That throttle of power you feel between your legs on a ride is really just pissing off everyone around you.

It started right as I was starting to enjoy the sunlight pouring in through the skylight in my room. I thought, "YAY! It's spring! I mean, it's way too bright and I'm going to burrow back down into my comforter, but yay! Spring!" As soon as I started getting used to the gentle wake-up call from Mother Nature, though, the "ruhhhnnnn ruhhhhnnn ruhhhn" started.

Our neighbor has a motorcycle. The entire effing world knows that he has a motorcycle. At about 6:15 in the morning (5 minutes before my alarm goes off) he likes to start it and let it just idle for 100 or so minutes while he pats himself on the back. Then it dies and he has to restart it, re-idle it, re-make everyone hate him. It's a vicious, horribly loud cycle.

So for the past few weeks, this jerkface has been starting his motorcycle every morning. I'm usually awoken from a sound sleep and spend 10 minutes trying to turn off whatever nuclear bomb alarm has gone off before realizing it's Motorcycle Guy. I've thought so many times about what I would do if I ever saw him in his stupid driveway on his stupid bike.

Today, it happened.

Motorcycle guy must have been late to his job at the World's Most Annoying Person On the Planet factory because I was walking out to my car when his shenanigans started. I watched the whole thing.

He started his Fart Machine. I watched as he wrapped on his super stupid American flag bandana and tied his 12 grey hairs back into a ponytail. (Hey, COOL! No helmet! #notcool #dumbestpersonever)

Ruhhhnnnn ruhhhhnnn ruhhhn...

He pulled out a cigarette, fumbled around for a lighter for 12 minutes, and lit it. Then the bike died. Sweet, sweet silence. So, he started it again, revved the engine, and then let it idle for another 16 years. Puffing away. Waiting for God knows what. Then, finally, MERCIFULLY, he kicked up the kickstand and started to walk his stupid bike out of his driveway.

That's when he saw me.

I was standing there, in my super cute work outfit, Kate Spade work bag, and middle fingers both aggressively extended in his general direction. I can't say for certain that he saw me. But I had waited for the entire process, mouth agape, waiting for him to look at me to see my very passive-aggressive complaint. I was a statue. I wanted him to know that YES, we could alllllll hear his stupid loud bike. And YES, we are alllllll very impressed by his rebellious nature. But we allllllll hate every single thing about him.

Ruhhhnnnn ruhhhhnnn ruhhhn...

Sorry if you have a motorcycle. Sorry that you can't figure out a way to put a muffler on that piece of crap noise box you think is SO COOL. Unless you are part of a legit gang or live 100 miles away from the nearest hearing-capable person, everyone hates you.

It's important for people to know this. When a person starts a loud motorcycle, people don't think "Hey, wow. What a cool person with a reckless attitude towards convention and fearless attitude towards life." No. People think "OMG, we have to set that person's garage on fire."

Movin' on up

BREAKING NEWS! (Seriously, this is breaking news...the only person who knows is Claire.) I found an apartment. I went to see it today with Claire (which is why she knows) and when the gentlemanly barefoot 24-year-old dude in a Yoo-Hoo t-shirt introduced himself as the onsite caretaker, we were sold.

Not really.

In reality, I knew it was the place for me when I stood in the 6th floor apartment looking out the big window. I looked over a big park and treetops all the way to the beauteous Minneapolis skyline. Is that a tear in my eye? IT IS. Also, when The Dude told me all utilities were included in the barely-in-my-price-range rent, I was surprised I didn't move my first box in that very second.

So yeah, I called The Dude back after working out some aggression at kickboxing and said "Where do I sign?" and he's all "At the office. On Friday. Just the application first." I was all "I will see you then, Mr. Yoo-Hoo."

Now, to the meat of the matter. The REASON no one knows about it yet is because it became very obvious that no one cared as much about my apartment as I do. But the were still determined to question every and anything about every single place. I lost out on one apartment because I listened to too many people and let it go because I (everyone else) was SURE something better would come along. And okay, technically it did. But I'm sure I would have been super happy at the first place too. (My view THERE was overlooking a liquor store. Potato, potahto.)

After 6 years of living with other people, I got too used to getting input from others. I got used to having a bunch of help from others. In this case, I think everyone was getting a little sick of me. Well excuuuuuuuuse me! But after a little reality check from my sister, I took action. Prinna was basically all "You're old enough that you need to make your own decisions. A decision about an apartment isn't a big deal and you are a smart woman. Plus, most people your age have houses, and husbands, and tons of kids."

Thank you! (AND OUCH.)

Can you imagine why I'm so effed up? For almost my whole life, people told me that I never "think before I act". I was too reactive. Too impulsive. So what do I do? I get my act together and am now being accused of thinking TOO MUCH (make your own jokes here)? Whatevs. So, I've gone back to my roots. I'm going with my gut on this one.

So if I end up signing a lease, I'll move in like 2 weeks. Am I freaked out? Yes. While Claire gave the place HER seal of approval, it seems like a foreign concept to me to be moving into a place based on my own opinion. I mean, I guess I hope GEO likes it. And it'd be nice if I knew how much of my stuff will fit in there or if I will be able to find a couch by then. But, when you go with your gut, you don't have the luxury of planning for those pesky details.

Before I sound ungrateful, I want to say HEAPS of thanks to Liz, who spent hours looking for pads me with. And to Claire for touring places with me. And Prinna for giving me the reality check I needed. But mostly, I wanna thank Captain Yoo-Hoo who informed me that the place was still available because something was wrong with the email address on the listing. This morning when they fixed it, he said they found they had 600 emails inquiring about the place. Now, unless something falls through, I'll be in my 6th floor pad, looking down on everyone and sipping on some Yoo-Hoo. :)

When The Cat's Away...

Well, Happy Mother's Day to all the mamas out there! Hope you all had a wonderfully relaxing and fun day. I love my mom loads and almost hate to write this post tonight, as it might taint her otherwise perfect reputation as the World's Best Mom, but it's just too darn relevant.

Okay, last week, my roommates were out of town for a few nights. I. Lived. It. Up. One night, I painted my nails in front of the TV in the den and flipped through wedding magazines drinking fancy beer. I didn't even clear my dinner dished until the NEXT DAY. Oooh, I hope no one called the cops! Still, it kind of felt like the grownups were out of town for a few nights and I could do whatever I wanted.

It was a far cry from what I WOULD have wanted to do as a teenager when MY parents would be out of town, though. Except my parents were NEVER out of town. And if they were, I was too worried about getting in trouble to do anything crazy. But my FRIENDS' parents would go out of town.

Listen, just to make it clear...I wasn't a bad kid. I didn't get in trouble. I'd just, I dunno, test some boundaries. Plus, I grew up in Edina. So, every once in awhile, someone's parents would leave town, leaving their giant house with heated pool, sauna, pool table, and mini putt putt course open for teenage business. So I've been to my share of parentless house parties.

Okay, so we've probably all been there. Being in a house without parents is, like, thrilling. So after the first few nights of failing to live up to the debauchery of my adolescence in my own house, I decided I needed to make it up to myself. Then, luckily, Kim had a little party.

See, Kim moved alllllllll the way out to suburbia a few months ago. Like, SERIOUS SUBURBIA. She lives in a house in a cul-de-sac for crying out loud. It takes a little while to get there so I don't get out there on most weekends. But her house is a-mah-zing. It's beautiful and huge and comfortable and yes, she has a sick pool. Then this weekend, her "parents" - a.k.a. her boyfriend - went out of town, leaving that giant house to just that tiny woman. She invited me over.

I was so excited for a house party! Would we go TP'ing? Should I bring Girl Talk? Eeee!!!!

When I walked in the door of her house, the music was BLARING. It was a party already. Was it odd that they were playing Earth, Wind and Fire? Whatever. Kim and a few friends were already there. TVs were on. iPods on. Lights on. People at cool house parties don't worry about the electricity bill. Sure enough, people were playing pool and I joined in. No one even yelled at me when I set my beer can on the table without a coaster. We drank cheap, delicious beer in high quantities, used curse words, and I even wore my wolf sweatshirt. We ordered pizza and ate nothing but junk all night. After we threw in a couple hands of Circle of Death and #$&@ the Dealer, it was definitely a house party.

Then something happened. It started when our friends Tony, Anna and Chad left the party.

Then Stefanie left the party.

Then I started yawning during our last hand of some card I can't even remember. I was so tired.

It was, like, barely after midnight.

For awhile, at least, being at Kim's grown-up house made me feel like a teenager again. But because we arr now technically adults, there were no worries about waking the roommates, no freaking out over a can of spilled beer on the wood floors, just a fun night being silly and having a stupid-good time. Good thing Kim has a guest room (grown ups have guest rooms) because I can see myself hanging out there a lot more.

Don't be MADeline

So, I wasted all my best material tonight. I had a Skype date with my bestie Madeline. I already told her my embarrassing stories, showed her my bad hair and generally used all my best stuff trying to impress her. I answered her Skype call with a giant belch, so yeah...I'm a lady. But she laughed, and that's what a best friend is for.


I would feel bad about this terrible post if I didn't feel so awesome. I love Madeline. I miss her desperately. She lives in stupid Illinois, but she's my awesomest friend who just gets me. The best part? She didn't grill me about the stressy stuff tonight - you know, the apartments, the fiance, the wedding...she just told me funny stories and ruled.

Also, she and I shared a virtual bottle of wine, so...yeah.

Anyway, I have purged myself of all my conversational goodness. In fact, you guys can feel free to send hate mail to my beloved pal Madeline at HER sick blog www.recklessreading.blogspot.com. Word on the street is that she loves hate mail.

Okay, so sorry I wasted all my juicy stuff on my convo with Madeline. We both agreed, however, that you guys should have a great weekend. And don't get mad at me for having nothing tonight. It's another brain-fart Thursday but let's just all agree to take it out on Madeline, shall we?

P.S. Can we pull together some sort of Paypal account where people donate money to Madeline and me so we can visit each other more often than once ever 1 1/2 years?? Tech nerds, lets set that up!

Dear Crabby

(OMG, again, I'm sorry about the funky spacing issues. Blogger is out to ruin my life.)

Yaaaay! Here's an all new batch of Dear Crabby questions! And awaaaaay we go!

Dear Crabby,
So, I got into a few colleges and I think I've picked out my top choice, but there's a problem. Um, I don't wanna go to college. My parents are really the ones who want me to go, but I have a great job at this laser hair removal clinic. I'm going through some training there and think I have a pretty solid future. Leaving for college is just not on my list of priorities. Also, I kind of picked a college thinking I'd never have to go there, so now I'm not liking my choice. Should I talk to my parents? What should I say?


Thank you!
Gettin' Schooled


Hey Gettin' Schooled,
I'm totally biased. You should definitely go to college if you have the opportunity to do so. First, it delays adulthood by a minimum of four years, which is great. Second, depending on the college you chose, there are probably tons of classes you can take and learn something crazy...in my case, I took a Shakespeare class, classic Greek literature, and relaxation techniques. Yup, that's a real class! Thanks, Big Ten! It's surprisingly interesting! And finally? COLLEGE IS FUN. Parties are FUN. Accidentally missing your Astronomy lecture because you are washing the tequila out of your hair is FUN. The point is, jobs will always be out there to ruin your life. Take a little hiatus and get yourself to campus. Soak up the ridiculousness and you won't regret it, I promise.


Dear Crabby,
My next door neighbor has this horrible dog that barks NONSTOP and wakes me up at all hours barking. Can I slip him a sedative without getting in trouble?


Word,
Doggone Mad

Hello Doggone Mad,
I'm pretty sure you can't give an animal a drug without a prescription. Can you write it a prescription? It'd be ADORABLE to watch a doggie go to Target and walk up to the pharmacy counter with a little prescription attached his wittle collar. Omg, would he pay for it with a MUTTStercard?! Squeee! Anyhoozle, sorry, I'm all in lovey-dog mode. I say you walk over there and talk to your neighbors. Could they keep the dog inside until like 9 a.m. whatever? Stop putting him outside after 10 p.m.? Whatever. Also, you COULD just go over there and him like some giant, monster bone that will keep him occupado for awhile. Love pugs, not drugs!! (OMG! What has HAPPENED to me?!)


Dear Crabby,
I've been seeing my awesome boyfriend for a few weeks now. We are totally in that "honeymoon" phase, but something keeps kind of nagging at me. Sometimes, he doesn't answer my texts for, like, hours. When I call him during the day at work, you know, just to tell him I love him and hope he's having a good day, he sends me right to voicemail. I sent him this really cool bouquet of flowers with a note that said "Roses are red, violets are blue, but unlike these flowers, I would die for you." and he didn't even call to say thank you! Then the other night, I drove by his house to see what he was up to. (Sometimes I'll just cruise by and see if I can see what he's doing through his windows.) And he was sitting on his couch, looking into his computer and laughing. I think he was webcam chatting with someone because he was, like, making funny faces and pointing towards his monitor. I got closer and saw there was some chick talking back to him. Is he cheating on me? Should I confront him? What's going on?


Thanks!
Concerned Girlfriend

Oh, Concerned Girlfriend...
How do I break this to you gently? This isn't easy to say, but yeah. He's cheating on you. (Hey! Turns out that WAS easy to say!) It sounds like you are pretty insane. I mean, from this question, I can't even be entirely sure he KNOWS he's your boyfriend, so I guess it might not even be considered "cheating." (Does he know you're dating each other? Has he taken you out on dates - and paid?)  I'm sorry, my lovely, crazy Square, but this sounds like a Lifetime movie that ends, well, poorly. Think: You lying on the floor next to a crazy scrapbook with photoshopped pictures of your imaginary babies with a knife in your sternum while he stands over you wondering who the crazy lady is who broke into his house and tried to steal his hair. I say, um, it's time to move on. To the asylum.

Yay! These were good questions, guys! Thanks for sending your messed up little nuggets of crazy to me! Don't forget, you other nerds, to email pharonsquare@gmail.com with any little issue that is gnawing atcha! Love you guys!

Hours of Suckeration

Dear Geniuses of the Business World,
You guys suck. You are losing business and bajillions of dollars by being all colonial and rude. Allow me to elaborate...

If you are in a business that relies on business from people who are EMPLOYED, you CANNOT CLOSE AT 5 P.M. If you are an oil changing place, a doctor's office, or, I don't know, a wedding venue, or an apartment complex, STAY OPEN LONG ENOUGH FOR YOUR CLIENTS TO COME BY.

Listen, TARGET gets it. Even Shane Co. gets it (open weekdays 'til 8). They stay open late enough for people to come on by without having to take 1/2 day off work just to run errands. People need to do things. But people ALSO need to have a job so they can afford to do said things. All these service places have it backwards.

Okay, so in case you haven't noticed, I'm stressed out. I'm trying to schedule visits to apartments, but no one is available after 4:30. Well, guess what - if you want me to be able to PAY for your crazy-expensive hole in the wall, you better stop expecting me to take time off work to come look at your stupid building. I'm sure it's lovely, but I'm betting it's going to be just as lovely after 5 p.m.

Not to mention the fact that I'm trying to visit restaurants and hotels and events centers and whatnot to see if I we should have a wedding there. WHY ARE YOU CLOSING AT 4:30!? Again, if you want people who can PAY for your venue - oh, and then be able to have enough vacation days left to HAVE A WEDDING - start being available a little later at night.

If I were smart, and I'm not, but if I were and I owned a business that relied on outside customers, I would open at noon (just in time for the lunch-break-errand-runners) and stay open until at least 8 p.m. Then everyone would be all happy and not stressed about having to take time off work.

Here's a list of places that need to switch their hours to cater to their clientele: doctor's office, dentists, salons, apartment complex owners, wedding venues, car shops, eye doctors, mortgage offices, furnace repair people, plumbers, veterinarians, interior designers, therapists, lawyers, people who deliver packages that require signatures and banks without online banking.

Here's a list of places that can keep regular hours (besides companies who work with OTHER companies who work regular hours): banks who have online banking, unemployment offices. That's it. 

So, yeah, can you guys cut us workin' folks some slack and stay open a little longer? Honestly, how many more people would visit the dentist regularly if it didn't require time off work and included maybe a happy hour martini? The answer is LOADS. Wouldn't everyone feel much happier if they could work a full day, swing by the dentist on the way home, have dinner and then get a haircut before bed? Who WOULDN'T love that?

In closing, I'm sorry. I'm totally distracted and frustrated that I can't get anything done on MY time. Then these people email me all day during MY work day. What am I supposed to do? I'm BUSY. I'm FOCUSED. I'm makin' money and accumulating PTO all so I can spend money and time buying stuff FROM THEM.

I'm no business major (I'm BARELY an English major), but I would think that all my customers would LOVE me if they didn't need to take work off to come and see me. Geez. It's not rocket science. Oh, and I guess rocket scientists can close up shop at 5. Ain't no one doing physics after hours...

Break Time

Oh Mondays...you are pretty uneventful. Today, I was type-type-typing away for work from the comfort of our den, trying to stay focused and NOT play with the cute puppers nipping at my ankles. After a couple hours of brain power, I needed a break. A couple hours later, I took another break. All told, I took roughly 5 or 6 smallish breaks to stretch my legs.

Good think I was working from home! Allow me to paint you a picture of break times.

First break, I did a little puppet show for the doggies. I used two of their chew toys and reenacted last night's episode of Mad Men. It was only a little awkward when I tried to get the purple monster toy to drink some scotch, pitch an idea to Secor Laxatives and smoke a cigarette. Oh, Don Draper!

Second break, I was hungry. I had 18 seconds while I microwaved a Vita-Muffin so I rapped a little song to my tasty treat. It went a little something like this: You are a muffin - yeah - I'm gonna eat you - yeah. You're only slightly less delicious than my pizza - yeah. Oh chocolate yummy - yeah - get in my tummy - yeah. I've always thought that Lady Gaga was a dummy.

Yeah, I didn't say it was a GOOD rap. 

Third break...let's see. That may have been the one where I checked out some apartments on my kicky new phone app - Padmapper. But nothin' doin'. Stupid apartments.

Fourth and fifth break consisted of seeing if I could fit Punky down the neck of my sweatshirt and tuck my head inside. I wanted to see if I could make it look like I was a giant person with teeny tiny dog head. It was unsuccessful, to say the least. I'm only 40 percent sure she didn't pee on my head. 

The last break was the show stopper. My Internet was being super slow so I had like 15 minutes to distract myself. Guess who worked on her dance moves in the mirror? THIS GIRL. It was an epic dance break, you guys. EPIC. There was the running man, some cat daddying, only one attempt at the worm (that ended VERY poorly) and even that think where you spin on the floor. I was ON FIRE. When I was done, I was all heavy breathing and excited and was able to bang out the last intense hours of work without batting an eyelash.

Tomorrow it's back into the office. While I'm super bummed I can't bring the pups with me to do fun plays or sweatshirt tricks with me, I'm sure THEY will be glad that I'm out of their hair and not banging around the house rapping and dancing. (I DO think they liked little puppet show.)

Sicko de Mayo

For the past few days, I've been suspicious. It started with a sneeze. Then it was a sore throat yesterday morning. Today, my suspicions came true. I am sick.

Fine, I'm not like sick sick. I have a cold, which isn't exactly the same. But I feel lousy. Only half of my nose works at any given time. My ears are filled with pudding or something because I can't hear anything. My throat hurts and my head aches. The eye makeup I had on last night is smeared all over my face and my hair looks like a rat's nest - which is unrelated to my cold, but just a nod to my present level of physical attractiveness.

Still, SOMEhow I managed to get sick in spite of my foolproof prevention methods.

For starters, I drank like 100 beers last night celebrating Cinco de Mayo. Hydration is important in staying healthy.

In order to combat the inevitability of a hangover, I consumed a well-balanced breakfast of orange juice and whatever goes into those McGriddles at McDonald's.

Plus, I am well-rested because I took approx 6 naps today so that I could recover from staying up so late both nights this weekend. I only got out of bed to answer the door when the pizza I ordered was delivered. In my defense, I DID ask Geo if he would come home and make me some tea and something HEALTHIER, but apparently my cold is not a good enough reason for him to fly home for a couple hours during finals week. Rude.

So as not to stress out and worsen my cold, I avoided all Internet browsing. Except for this blog. And ordering the pizza. No apartment hunting, venue searching or online shopping. Just me, my bed and a Law and Order: SVU marathon.

Yeah. So I have no clue how I managed to get sick. But I guess I better get back in bed. And by "get back in back" I mean "I'm already in bed because I've been here all day anyways." Seriously, I'm lookin' SUPER good today.

Female Dogs

You know what I did tonight? It's glamorous, let me warn you. First, I had delicious apps and a few brewskies with Kim and her friends Stefanie and Gretchen. Then I came home, chatted with my parents and gossiped with Prinna. But then - THEN! - the fun started.

The foster pups were following an ant tonight (I'll wait while you jot this down in your journal). They were literally trying to play with a tiny little ant. Sure, the puppies are each under five pounds, so I guess an ANT is their most appropriately-sized playmate.

I watched as they, like, alternatively lunged at the ant and tried to scare it or whatever. They'd sniff at it, and at one point, the ant got stuck on Punky's nose. I was all "I could get that off, but let's see how nature plays out..." Punky pawed at her nose, momentarily chased her own tail, and then finally sneezed the ant off her nose. Then Ellie got going.

Ellie would army-crawl up to the ant (who, I'm assuming, was just trying to carry an adorable blueberry out to his family so they could have an adorable picnic on a walnut or whatever) and then Ellie would just GROWL at the ant. The ant kept scurrying around, changing direction and just generally trying to get away.

Um, let us take a minute and think about what that ant was probably thinking. "WTF IS THIS GIANT BEAST?! Is it going to eat me? Is it going to trap me? Are we going to be friends? I don't know, I'm a tiny ant and this dog's nose is like the Hatch in Lost! What's going on!?"

Anyway, so yeah. I was still just sitting on the couch. Drinking a Summit and laughing way too hysterically at the dogs and the ant.

The dogs spent another 20 or so minutes sniffing around the ant. They followed it from the den to the dining room where the ant got crafty. He tried climbing up the wall. The dogs were all "Hey, get back here." I thought for SURE they were just going to lick the ant up and eat it and be done with it. Instead, Ellie swatted it off the wall with her tail - not on purpose.

So, I'm sitting here, watching this for way too long. I'm all thinking about apartments and venues and blogs and Geo and money and just stressing out. I started thinking about how fun it would be to be a tiny puppy. They had been spending 45 minutes chasing AN ANT. Dudes, an ant is like nature's crumbs. Pretty useless. But the dogs were having fun.

Then, for whatever reason, I stood up and just smooshed the ant. Right under my flip flop! I can't even explain why I did it! The dogs looked at me and tilted their heads like "WTF, dude?" and my heart broke. Their playmate was stuck to the bottom of my shoe and I was all "WHAT HAVE I DONE?!" I scraped the ant into the vent on the floor and the pups stared at the vent for like 10 seconds. Then they looked at me. Then back at the vent. Then back at me. Then they just decided to go play in the other room.


Is that disappointment I see in their wagging tails?

The moral of this story is that I'm a bitch. Sorry, pups.

Judgey McJudgerson Learns Her Lesson

I'm not feeling Dear Crabby tonight. Plus, the mail bag is lookin' a little slim these days. What gives, yo? Bring back the fun, guys! Dear Crabby only works if something about you DOESN'T work. Next week, I want some juicy questions! Email them to pharonsquare@gmail.com and we'll get back on track.

Moving on...I got seriously HOOKED on a few songs today. After violently opposing the odd-voiced charms of one Lana Del Ray, I decided to give her another shot. I ended up listening to one song, Radio, over and over on repeat. Then I bought the album. Then I felt bad for writing her weird sound off so quickly. Then I made a list of other things I hated before discovering that I loved them. Consider this my amends.

• Geo - It's no secret that I hated him before I went all gaga over him and ultimately agreed to spend the rest of my life with him.
• Beer - I was once quote as saying, "Ew. Beer is disgusting. It smells like someone farted in a can and sealed it up with moldy water. I will never drink it willingly." Now, I am known to enjoy several PBR tall boys in one sitting. Willingly.
• Girls - I, for the most part, dislike girls when I meet them. I can't trust 'em so I write them off immediately. I did it with my friend Valerie and several others who I still haven't admitted it to. Let's put it this way: Had I never given girls a second chance, I'd have exactly three female companions. My mom and my sisters.
• iPhones - I vowed, at one point, never to be a "sheep" and have an iPhone. In protest, I got a Blackberry and tried to play it off like it was awesome. Reality checked in, though, and I realized my Blackberry was crap. I got an iPhone and never looked back.
• Sushi - I thought everyone who loved sushi was pretentious. Well, they are. But turns out sushi rolls are yummy.
• Hunger Games - Yes, I gave Geo loads of crap for liking these books. I hated on it and ridiculed him at every opportunity. On the day I decided to buy the first one - it was $5 on kindle! - Geo laughed at and ridiculed me when I was skipping meals to keep reading.
• Marriage - I thought happy couples were idiots for getting married and messing up a good thing. So far, though, I like what I'm seeing pre-wedding, so this remains to be either confirmed or denied...
• Golf - I always thought it was boring and lame and stupid. Then I drove a golf cart and hid PBR tall boys in my golf bag. It's a whole new game now, and I dig it.
• Beef - As a kid, I hated beef. Burgers, Hamburger Helper, steak...I passed on all of it in favor of butter noodles and PB&J. Now, it's not a good day without some good ol' red meat. In most cases, the redder, the better.
• Family Guy - I admit it. I HAAAATED this show before it was cancelled. I was, in fact, GLAD it was cancelled. Can people understand the baby or not?! And why does he have a British accent?! But then something clicked and now I quote it on a daily basis.
• The suburbs - I used to live and work in downtown Minneapolis. I now work way out in the 'burbs and love it. Not only that, but Claire ALMOST lives in the 'burbs and I think I've found an apartment I love that is fewer than 10 blocks away from her. 

So, it turns out, I know NOTHING about ANYTHING. I need, like, 5 times as long to accept something as other people do. Another thing I hated? BLOGGING. Well, we all know how that one turned out...

Just Cuz...

(Hey, I know...the formatting of this blog is whack. There's nothing I can do. Blogger "updated" their format and made everything harder to do. I got sick of trying to figure out the crappy auto-format functions and just gave up.)

So, I was talking to my cousin Chris on gchat today. I don't know why I go to him with my problems, because he is typically TOO blunt. He doesn't hold back. He keeps it real, yo. Some might call it rude, which I usually do, but sometimes it's also just a reality check. I think I sometimes forget that Chris used to hate me which probably factors into his habit of knocking me down a few pegs whenever I give him the chance. 

But, because I'm a glutton for punishment, I always dump my girl issues on him when he's online. He never seems to care, but he humors me for approx 2 minutes before dismissing me and changing the subject to something nerdy. (He's a smarty-pants know-it-all who can probably build a computer from sailboat parts.)

Today, I was feeling stressed out, dudes. Luckily, Cuz Chris was online. At first, I pretended to care about his work day before casually moving the subject to me and my problems. 

It started with a conversation about these blogs because I've been in a funk so I asked him for some advice:

     chris:: you write about the bizarre life of the modern woman
     i dont understand 99% of the things you obsess over
     me:  hahahaa, I don't obsess over stuff!
     chris:  you've written entire articles about hair curling
     me:  that is simply not true
     chris:  i think it might be
     me:  I think you're remembering a different blog
     chris:  are you seriously going to make me look for this
     here we go - you even have a search feature
     [did someone set all this up for you?]
     me: yes, it's a crap blogger template
     chris:  MONDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2011 "Curly Sue" god...
     me:  hahaha! I forgot all about that one
     chris:  yeah, its an entire article about curls
     me:  true dat. you've made your point


Great. So we've established that I'm not exactly pleasing my 24-34 male demographic. No wonder none of my guy friends ever have a problem when I make fun of them on here...


Before he could finish his sentence about the equalizer doohickey he developed, I brought it back to me. I guess I hadn't had my self-esteem crushed quite enough.I was explaining how stressed I am because I'm trying to find an apartment and move into it within the next 30 days. I was going on and on and on about having to move and what would I do NEXT June when I'll basically be gettin' hitched on Move Out Day. 


     chris:  wow
     wait wait wait
     you are living at your friend's house...why do you have a hard move-out date?
     me:  I set it myself....I wanted to get my own place
     chris:  oic
     so you are all stressed ABOUT A SELF IMPOSED DEADLINE
     me:  hahahahahaha
     YES
     chris:  so basically you are like "hey, self, BE ALL STRESSED OUT". 
     Sounds like this is all your own fault.


Rude. Talk about having NO SYMPATHY. He is, in fact, just making fun of me. The guy makes a good point though: I think I have only myself to blame. The lame blogs lately (yes, including this one), the terrible timing of my move coupled with my insistence to try and plan a wedding without the groom around (remember when I wanted to add a PUPPY to the mix?!)...I may not understand math, but I DO understand that there is one common denominator in all these issues. It's not you, it's me. 

Well, gee, Chris...thanks for the enlightenment. He gave me a lot to think about, though. No wonder he's a genius and I'm the one who can't figure out the Blogger updates...