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Hey! Who here feels like testing their relationship!? Wanna know if he's the one for you? Wanna know how you'll deal with finances and household responsibilities in the future? Wanna have a nearly-miserable time shopping? LET'S GO REGISTER.

Geo and I started hopeful and friendly today when we went to register for our wedding. We were all "La la la, let's go pick stuff out that we want. What could go wrong?!"

Answer: The foundation of our relationship could be completely rocked.

Now, before I start blasting everything about the relationship I have with the man I am totes excited to marry, I should say that Geo and I have extremely similar tastes in style and function. However, when I listened to the Financial Peace CDs, I learned that I am a financial hoarder and Geo, God love him, is a Free Spirit. I'm always reigning him in when he wants to spend money, and he is always telling me to lighten up. So I expected a healthy level of disagreement.

Tip of the hat moment: When Geo and I were handed the scanner dealie and the checklist, I looked at Geo and asked, "What do you want to do? Check or scan?" And the lady helping us said "WHOA! You've thrown convention out the window already." Because apparently, brides are greedy little ladies and demand the scanner. But in the end...I GOT THE SCANNER.

Anyway, we got started. I insisted on beginning at the Kate Spade display. Now, I KNOW what Ms. Spade has to offer and I wanted it ALL, but this place had NOTHIN'. So after 20 minutes of me asking where the rest of the Larabee Dot collection was, Geo needed a bathroom break. When he left, I "scan scan scanned" my way through the limited Spade collection they had. Mission: Accomplished.

We headed to the kitchen area. I know nothing about cooking, so I left it all up to Geo. I was all "Pick our knives. Pick our pans. You will use them, I won't." But I kept getting sidetracked by cupcake carriers and cool plates my mom has. Geo was all "We don't need a pear-shaped cutting board." And I was all "WHAT IF I'M CUTTING PEARS?!"

Eventually, we got to the coffee/appliance area. I wanted everything. Geo was suddenly the most rational person on the planet and was like "We don't need that $450 mixer because you already have it." And I was like "First of all? Mine leaks grease and second of all? We don't have it in STAINLESS STEEL" and he was like "You've barely used the one you have," and I was like "Why don't you love me?!" Then we momentarily stopped talking to each other when I wanted a new Keurig and he was like "We each have one. Yes, they are 10 years old and barely brew one full cup without completely shaking the entire foundation of the house, but we have them."

Since when did I decide to marry the frugalist (it's a word) person ever?! Geo is usually ALLLLLL about investing in something that he knows will last a long time and be important...unless it comes to cutlery, apparently.

I tried to get Geo in the spirit of scanning things we could never buy ourselves but should probably have by introducing him to a deep fat fryer. YUM. Even then, though, he was like "Meh, we don't NEED it." I wanted to drop the scanner on the ground and be like "BRO! WE DON'T NEED ANY OF THIS. WE NEED AIR AND WATER AND SHELTER! BUT I JUST SUPER WANT THIS SODA STREAM!" I couldn't understand how we shifted from me being so completely rational to me being the one trying to convince him that a casserole dish is something I"ll use "everyday." It was weird and uncomfortable and we probably each considered ending the engagement at like four different times.

Then we got to the nerdy cleaning section. Geo immediately demanded that we needed a steamer to get the wrinkles out of clothes. I was like "I haven't even used an iron in 6 years." And he was like "Oooh, that reminds me. We need an iron." We looked at a few and I was like "None of these inspire me to iron," and he was like "You're right. I want a 'murdered out' iron." Now, a "murdered out" iron means that it's all black. My wonderful, manly fiance announced in the middle of a department store, that not only did he want an iron, but he wanted it to be "cool." What?

After a few minutes of questioning me about what I would do with a flour sifter or a popover pan, we had to agree to disagree and head to bedding.

For YEARS I have wanted a sick-high thread count of bed sheets. Like, in the quadruple digits. I read in this style book by Nina Garcia that every girl needs a disgustingly fancy set of white bed sheets, and there is no better time to get them than to put them on a registry. Geo was like "Let's just get some at Target," and I was like "I swear to God, you aren't allowed to hang out with me anymore if you don't let me get these m-f'ing sheets." I won that battle like a boss. He was busy having a reality check when he realized that the pillows he likes are $160 each! - WHAT?! and I took the opportunity to both crush his expectations for flimsy pillows and scan my lovely 1000+ thread count sheets. Score.

At the end of the day, we agreed on a surprising amount of items. We got a little printout that told us how balanced our registry was, and the lady was all "Wow, you guys are spot on so far." So, we totally won at registering.

OH! Then, later we were looking at the registry with my family, and Geo had kind of put his foot down on a few things. He was like "Let's not get stupid-expensive frames or vases or anything," and I was like "Yeah, you pick those out." And the vase he liked was $400. We didn't even realize it until we looked at our registry later. And I was like "Hey, that $30 casserole dish ain't lookin' too bad now, it is?" Then he tried to bring it back to a popover pan and I was like "I'm making you SOOOOO many popovers. Can't wait to see what you put in that vase."

Slacker

Am I fired from this blog yet? Did you guys forget about me and replace me with Jenna Marbles or Reddit already? Ugh, I know, I know. I'm the worst. I have let this blog slip to the bottom of my priority list, after "Christmas," "napping," "getting presents," "eating until my leggings snap," and "avoiding blogging." I'm sorry, you guys. I really am.

The truth is that I've replaced my routine of writing at night at my house with hanging out with friends and family. And instead of stewing for hours about how I wish that all drinking glasses had straws, ALL GLASSES, I have just been chillin'. Enjoying time with friends and family. You know, all that gushy crap.

And although I DO have the next few days off of work, and I'll be travelling around a bit, I will try and get back to a regular blogging schedule. Geo and I are going to try and get out at some point to use a Groupon for archery that I got this summer, so that should be hilarious. (He keeps calling himself Peeta and me Katniss, which is SO STUPID because Peeta can't shoot, Gale can. DUH.) Anyway, yeah, so that should be good stuff.

So okay, I know I've been totally whack when it comes to filling your lives with this weekdaily hilarity. But let's keep things in perspective. The online chat at Macy's was ALSO offline today, yesterday and Monday so obvs we are all falling short these days. These things happen. But let's not dwell on the past, okay? Let's look forward to the immediate future, when I will also probably fall short. Whatever. I'll make it my New Year's Resolution or something. Stay tuned for THAT post. If I end up doing one.

Ready for My Closeup

Oh. My. Gah. I still have SO much to do before Christmas! I only realized how much I still haven't done about an hour ago, so this will be brief. Very brief.

The End.

Just kidding, it won't be THAT brief. But don't get too attached to this post because it will be short and it will be boring. Man, do I know how to sell a blog or WHAT!? This weekend was a WHIRLWIND. Instead of spending it getting ready for Christmas, I went out Friday and Saturday nights. Today was cookie baking day, and Saturday was engagement photo day!! OMG, you guys. SO FUN.

That's not even sarcastic. Never before have I enjoyed having my picture taken so much. My sister Prinna's friend Missy, who is just the toppest notch person ever, came to Minneapolis for the afternoon to take our pics. She knows how self-conscious I am and she is very aware of my undeniable urge to stick my tongue out in photos. Still, she agreed to tackle this session like a boss.

The day started with makeup. I can't do my own, so I went to Mac at the mall and had some chick wearing a sequined black dress do my makeup. It took AN HOUR AND A HALF. And no, I didn't need like 10 layers of shellac and plastic surgery, it just took forever because Bree couldn't be bothered to pay attention to one thing at a time. When she wasn't shadowing my eyes, she was chatting, helping other people, showing a co-worker how to do a braid. It was stupid.

But finally, I was done-up like a Kardashian and running out to my car to get home and do my hair and get dressed and find 100 different scarves to bring with me and freak out. Geo sat, calmly watching TV, as I spun around the apartment like a top. Oh, and I had had a large Americano drink from Starbucks at my makeup appointment/day-long fiasco, so my heart was beating at the speed of a hummingbird on crack. I was a mess.

We finally left to meet up with Missy, her husband/assistant and Prinna at a coffee shop for our first location. Yes, because the best thing for me at that moment was MORE COFFEE. Anyway, long story short, it was SUPER fun. I felt like I was a celebrity or something. Missy had all these cool photography and lighting gadgets, and we moved around the coffee place like we owned it, moving furniture, adjusting props, and generally being super cool. Everyone else in the shop was probably all "Who is that supermodel and that rockstar?" Calm down guys, we're just regular people, just like you. Except not as boring or average.

We took some great pics at the coffee shop and then headed to the frozen Lake of the Isles for the second half. It was gorgeous out and my shellacked face was holding up quite nicely. Geo couldn't have been better at being attractive and reminding me to keep my tongue safely inside my mouth. OH, AND?! We went out on the ice to take many of these photos. I had 6-inch heeled boots on (which were necessary because otherwise I look like I'm Geo's child) and could have TOTALLY biffed it and fell on the ice, knocking out all my teeth, but I DIDN'T. I was like a real grown up!

Missy started putting some of the photos up on Facebook already, and I love ALL of them!!! Here's a quick taste...

Aren't we adorable!? YES. WE ARE.

Anyway, so it was so incredibly fun and much easier than I expected. I would do it all over again if I could. Well, except the excruciatingly-long makeup sesh. And the minor caffeine-induced heart attack I may have suffered.Other than that, though? AWESOME. I can't wait to see the rest of the pics!

For now, however, I have to stop staring at pictures of myself and get back to wrapping presents. Are you guys all set? Shopping done? Can you come and finish mine for me?!

12/21/12

What?! It's 1:14 in the morning? Where did the time go? One second I'm finishing work and getting to work on some Christmas present projects, and the next I'm sitting at Perek's house cracking jokes. I had only intended to simply pick Geo up but ended up staying and hanging out for what, THREE HOURS?! Who do I think I am?!

Anyway, I am super tired and I used up allllllll my best material trying to impress Perek and Geo's friends. (Who am I kidding? I don't TRY to impress, I straight-up BLOW MINDS.) Initially, I felt bad about phoning this one in, but according to the Mayans, no one will be around to read this tomorrow after 5:12 a.m.

Oh, have you forgotten? Yeah, the world's going to end tomorrow I guess. That's really inconvenient for me because I have an eye appointment and I've been out of contacts for over a year now, so I really need new ones to replace the calcium-deposit-covered lenses I currently have in. I'm really looking forward to seeing things again without getting a headache. Plus, we're REALLY going to do engagement pics this weekend. We were supposed to do it last weekend, but we wanted a wintry scene, not a rainy, gross one. Flames of hell fire won't be much better.

So yeah, I'm super hoping the Mayans got this one wrong. Besides all the stuff I'm SCHEDULED to do, I also get to go to a fun holiday party at Claire's. And she's pretty strict with the evites, so she'll be so pissed if I don't make it or bring an appetizer. Then again, if the world ends, she probably won't care much.

Let's all just cross our fingers and hope that the Mayans simply lost interest in their calendar, in much the same way I lost interest in showering or brushing my teeth today. They, like me, were probably like "Meh, who cares? No one will notice if I blow this off and go take a nap instead." I guess we shall see in the morning. Good luck out there, you guys. Hopefully I'll see you all on the other side of 12/21/12!

Dear Crabby

Oh, Crabby. I've missed you dearly. Let's bring you back into the fold, shall we?

Dear Crabby,
I've been running on a broken foot for years now. I went to a doctor awhile back and he told me that my foot was fine. Then, later, I found out that my effing bone was broken. What can I do to get back on track?!
Thanks!
Wannabe Marathon Runner

Hey there, WMR,
My suggestion to you is to stop running. It's boring and annoying and no one likes a person who runs for pure enjoyment. Because seriously? NO ONE LIKES RUNNING. Now, people who say they like running are, no doubt, awesome, but we all know they are lying. Running can take a long time, it gives you shin splints, and it's just a way of WALKING QUICKLY. There are some people who are all "Oh, I live to run and I run to live" or some such nonsense because they think running is somehow the coolest thing ever. It's not. Running because you're on FIRE or something would be cool and interesting. So take this opportunity and either stop running or stop expecting people to be impressed by it. Oh, and I swear, if you start bragging about running marathons, people worldwide will potentially stop hanging out with you, because the only thing more boring than running a marathon is listening to someone discuss how they're GOING to run a marathon. Anyway, my suggestion is to take up some weird hobby like baton twirling or competitive hot dog eating that doesn't hurt your foot. If your foot hurts, stop running. (and if you are Elton from Clueless, you should probably just go to the nurse. - Hey-yo!)

Dear Crabby,
I'm not sure I can get along with my boyfriend's daughter. She's 5 and impossible to please. Is our relationship doomed?
Thank you, Crabby!!!!
-Not the Mama

Dear NTM,
OMG, kids who are not yours are the EASIEST KIDS EVER. Buy her stuff and spoil her rotten. That's all you need to do. Girls love princess stuff and tulle. Purchase several things accordingly. When it comes to kids, YOU CAN BUY LOVE.

Aaaaaaaaaaand that's all I can muster tonight. Are you all satiated? I'm going to go lay down and NOT run while NOT having a child anywhere near me. Hooray! If you have any questions for this advice champ, go ahead and shoot them my way to pharonsquare@gmail.com and I'll either ignore you  completely or solve every problem you've ever had in your entire life.

Thick as Thieves

I'm pretty sure I've never stolen anything in my life. I suppose I can't say this with absolute certainty because I was kind of a mischievous kid with a bowl cut and probably assumed I could do no wrong. Except the "bowl cut" thing. But as far as I can consciously remember, I'm clean. The same canNOT be said for two unknown men in Minneapolis and Eden Prairie, however.

The day before Thanksgiving, my brother walked into his house after work only to realize some scumbag had broken in and helped himself to several items that did not belong to him. That's the theory at least: Robbery. Unless somehow my brother's Xbox, guitars iPad and 5-Hour Energy (yes, you read that right) just got up and walked out of the house in search of a heart, brain and courage from the Wizard or whatever. His wife's laptop and jewelry may also have been stolen, or they could have eloped to Vegas in a misguided attempt to find love in this crazy, mixed up world.

All leads point to a robbery, though. The guy apparently broke in to the house of a complete stranger, dug around and took things that were not his, then simply walked out the door with plans to sell the stolen stuff to other a-holes. How can a person do that? I mean, I was just in the kitchen trying to sneak a handful of shredded cheese into my mouth while Geo was in the other room believing that I was NOT cheese-binging but I got way too nervous that he'd catch me, so I dumped the cheese in the garbage in panic.

Anyway, so first my bro's house gets hit and then last night, my sister woke up to police lights outside HER house. She had had an uneasy feeling earlier that night and pulled her three kids into her bed to sleep, so when she was later woken up by the lights, her mother's instinct high-fived her gut instinct. Anyway, turns out some OTHER dude was caught breaking into cars and stealing stuff. Apparently, he had gotten into my sister's van but probably decided the black market for half-eaten suckers, single socks and crumpled up construction paper Santa hats ain't what it used to be. Luckily, he left my sister's car empty-handed before getting pinched by the coppers. (That means "got arrested" I'm pretty sure.)

But MAN I am annoyed! I feel like stealing is not only SUPER RUDE, it's also just like, tacky or passe or something. I mean, who ROBS people anymore?! In person, nonetheless! I thought all theft was done online and in the form of empty Nigerian promises. What is the world coming to!?

Yeah, it's pretty sucky. I mean, it's good that nothing was stolen that can't easily be replaced (oh, except that whole "safe in my own house" feeling,) but whatever. Thieves are jerks and I hate them.

Trials and Treebulations

I'm so helpful! In exchange for Claire driving me around all night, getting me pizza, entertaining me for the evening and letting me watch cool cable shows at her house, I agreed to watch her buy a Christmas tree. It was sooooooo hard. First, she drove me to the tree lot and then I watched two men strap a tree to the roof of her car, and I was EXHAUSTED. When we got back to her house and she was all "Okay, let's get this thing inside," I was all "Whoa, lady. I'm not a robot."

FINE. I'll help. We pulled up to her house, and the job didn't look too bad.

[There is supposed to be a picture of the tree wrapped up on the roof of Claire's small sedan-sized car here, but my computer blows and refused to load the image. Rest assured, the tree looked small and not sharp and harmless.]

See? Not too bad. Two smart ladies can get this thing inside and upright in no time. But here's the thing...for as brilliant as Claire is, she sees no point doing some things properly. She prefers to do them quickly. So when the two of us were lugging the surprisingly enormous tree up the extra-icy walkway and I suggested "Let's take the trunk in first so we don't end up pulling all the bottom branches off trying to get through the doorway," she scoffed. And then she just yanked the tree the wrong way into her house.

[OMG. Now Blogger is not uploading ANY pictures. Blogger? YOU. ARE. THE WORST. Okay, so here's where you'd see a picture of the bottom of a tree with super mangled and splayed bottom branches that were shoved the wrong way through a door frame.]

Beautiful. If Mother Nature had to forcibly shove a tree the wrong way through a door frame, this is totes how she'd do it. So, after we cleaned up 304 pounds of pine needles that were mercilessly ripped from the tree during the process of being pulled through a door, we had to get it into the stand. Trees are heavy and tippy, so we decided to lay the tree on its side and put the tree stand on sideways, then tip it upright like magic. It would have been relatively easy had the boy scout "troop leader" in charge at the tree farm known how to use a freakin' saw. He didn't. He "trimmed" the base of the tree as only a non-boy-scout man could have: completely slanty.

[EFF YOU, BLOGGER. Here's where you WOULD see a picture of a tree stump cut at basically a 90 degree angle making it nearly impossible to get all parts of the trunk in water. IDIOT.]

Once we realized that the trunk was ridiculously uneven and giant, we decided, "Eff it. We'll just put it in the stand and hope for the best." Except we are two tiny women and Claire's tree stand consists of four extremely complicated nut-bolt-basicphysics prongs that need to be hinged, twisted and properly placed. At the same time. It's not like a normal tree stand. It has four of these wingnuts and four of these crazy bar things that you're supposed to measure and line up and Claire and I just lost interest immediately. We figured it would be far easier to leave one of these "crucial" pieces out.

[Here's the picture of the leftover pieces of the tree stand. I HATE YOU, BLOGGER.]

But, with sap on my fingers and Claire's brute determination, we FINALLY got the tree up, straight and "stable."

[Picture of amazing tree.]

Isn't it amazing?! Yes. Two little women put that beast together. Sure, we tried to get Geo and Claire's neighbor Bryan to help, but they couldn't be bothered. So, we pulled through and erected this beauteous tree. It's a little crooked and Claire believes it's "not sturdy enough," but whatever. When I left that place, the tree was up, straightish, and not my problem anymore. Merry Christmas!

Dress for Success...Eventually

Well, that vacation was too short. Isn't that always the case? Tomorrow, it's back to routine and schedules and serious efforts at this blog. I have a few gems from the past few days which could make for some great blog fodder (yoga class, a rather significant purchase, a mid-weekday manicure that was nearly ruined by the company of a couple ridiculously spoiled and vapid 20-somethings, cancelled engagement pics because of rain, and a trip to Home Depot to name a few) but will have to save them for another night because I haven't gotten that boost of creative energy I need after such a long time off.

Well, fine. I can't wait on this. I'll talk about my rather significant purchase. I officially ordered and purchased my wedding dress! I know that about a month ago, I wrote this post about about finding the dress, but I went back this week, tried it back on to be sure, and WAS sure. So yay! We got the dress!

Here's a pic of me and the girl who turned my "I want it to be traditional and whimsical and glamorous and royal and new age and one-of-a-kind and on major sale" wishes into reality. This girl dealt with my insistence on making and cancelling last minute appointments and walk-ins, seemingly endless requirements in a gown and yes...she saw me in my Spanx more times than my mirror. Anyway, she was the bomb. We could probably be friends outside of business, but I think that no commission in the world could help her recover from the aforementioned Spanx sightings. Anyway, here we are confirming that I indeed needed to buy her friendship by signing this friendly little contract obligating me leave her alone now/never come back until my dress comes in.

Side note: I'm more than a little bummed that I look like the devil here, but whatever. Thumbs up!

After I essentially said "Yes!" to the dress by jumping up and down and squealing in approval, my mom sealed the deal with this rarely discussed, but very common wedding tradition. It's called Initiating the Payment for the Dress.

Ahhh, sweet, sweet tradition. Anyway, after this transaction, the dress was MINE. Well, in 4 to 6 months it will be mine. For like a day, and then I'll have to send it out for alterations, after which I will likely have to store it at my parent's house because I have too many bags of bags taking up space in my closets. But come my wedding day, that sucker will be ALL MINE.

It's a pretty sucky  process, actually. I make this HUGE decision and this HUGE purchase, and I have nothing to show for it when we leave the store. Sure, I can look at pictures of OTHER people (a.k.a. MODELS) in my dress, but I wish I could have taken it with me and hung it carefully in my closet to look at from a safe distance periodically.

As lovely as this idea is, the reality would obvs be much different. I would drag the dress through my dusty floors and into my room where I'll try to get it on by myself, tearing a seam here or there, and then I'd lounge around watching Family Guy reruns while drinking red wine in it. By the my wedding day rolled around, I would be walking down the aisle in a red-spattered white dress (oops! I guess I should have said "Spoiler alert!" before saying it was a white dress...) with a ripped hem and flattened tulle. Oh, and is that a pair of sweatpants dragging behind it??

So yeah. That was my big, exciting news for the week! Woo hoo! One major task: DONE! And it only took two months...Yikes. This does not bode well for the rest of the process...

Letter to Teacher

Dear Blogger,

I apologize for Pharon's absence from blogging last night. She was recovering from a fun tubing outing for work and Geo got back into town. She was overwhelmed by all the activity and just couldn't be bothered to type a blog.

I would also like to inform you that she will be absent for tonight's blog as well. Pharon is taking a couple days off work and has turned off her brain, effective immediately. She can't even remember how to typeoifjmkalkdfh.

She'll be back, and better than ever (or worse than ever) next week. Please send her homework home with some nerd who will do it for her. Thanks!

-Mrs. Square

The word "Hero" is thrown around a lot...

Listen, I KNOW I'm harping on the fact that Minnesota has winter and it sucks, but I don't care. There is nothing else of more import than the snowy beyotch that is ruining everything. Oh, wait. There is one important thing that likely happened tonight. I'm pretty sure I earned a medal.

That's right. This humble blogger has participated in acts of heroinism tonight. It started with plans for dinner with Claire. But I got home from work and ate 100 quesadillas and took a nap first. Heroes need their rest, y'all. So when I got to Claire's and was all "Oops, I'm not hungry. Also, I forgot the acorn squash I was supposed to bring for dessert. Let's watch cable instead," she was not proud of me. But then, Claire's OCD kicked in and she decided to shovel her roof. SERIOUSLY.

I stood by, monitored her progress and shoveled her back porch and walkway like a boss. When she tried to climb to the peak of her roof, I stopped her and reminded her that Minnesota roofs are more resilient than we think they are. Just like Minnesotans. Then, I made her get off the roof and come inside to watch Storage Wars. I don't want to call myself a lifesaver, but I may have seriously saved a life tonight.

Not satisfied with my roof-management heroism, I decided to continue my bravery when I got home. I myself enjoy the perks of 4-wheel drive, which is all but required in this godforsaken state. Other peasants, however, are not so smart. After my rockstar parallel parking job over mounds of icy snow, I approached a motorist in need.

I mentioned the other day that 100 cars have gotten stuck on the ridiculously slick road by my apartment. The city is not salting anything and people are left to their own devices. So when I saw a navy-purple Mustang spinning its wheels trying to get out of their street parking spot, I knew the driver needed a hero. I yelled "You need help?" and a girl who was horribly underdressed for the weather popped out of the driver's side door. She was like "Yeah, but no offense, I think we need some guys."

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize my pulsating muscles were useless.

I assured her that I was stronger than I looked. I pushed and pushed and pushed her car as her wheels spun, spitting dirty snow in my heroistic face. Her friend came down to "help" but she was, I think, high. She came out with tennis shoes on and no socks. World's worst apparel choice for this job.

"Together," the "two" of us rocked and pushed and steered the girl's unfaithful steed onto the more forgiving path of what we could only assume was a "street." I am pretty sure I was solely responsible for any movement that car enjoyed. But I, being the humble hero I am, high-fived my cohort once the World's Worst Winter Car was on its way back home and claimed "I couldn't have done it without you!"

Um, I could have.

Anyway, now my back is super sore and screaming at me because I'm too old to be shoveling hundreds of pounds of snow and pushing cars out of icy ditches all on my own. I'm a hero, you guys, but I'm not a superhero.

Saaaaaaaaaaalt!

[Okay, for all my fellow Lost fans, you will hopefully get that the title of this post is reminiscent of something Michael would yell into the woods at least 12 times an episode. Hootie hoo! WE HAVE TO GO BACK!]

Anyways, I'm officially over winter. That's it. One day and I'm over it. I have to leave 45 days early tomorrow morning just to get to work in time because despite the relentlessness of winter EVERY SINGLE YEAR, Minnesota has not figured out how to properly clear the roads. SERIOUSLY. Isn't it someone's job to make it safe for cars to travel 25 yards without skidding into a stop sign? I would assume that person should be seriously fired.

For as long as Minnesota has existed, it has been snowy. We ALL know this. And yet, the farthest we've come in terms of DEALING WITH IT is making people move their cars from one side to the other every few days and dumping salt on the road. (OH, by the way?! If you SAY you're going to tow someone, City of Minneapolis, TOW THEM. Plowing around a car that hasn't figured out the snow emergency rules makes every other person's life miserable who has to park in that spot that's just 10 feet of built up, plowed-around snow.)

Here's an idea: Let's put heaters under the streets. I remember in high school, this girl Molly had this super giant, super fancy house. She had heated floors in her foyer and her bathrooms. Your feet were never cold. It was genius. And that was a billion years ago. Can we seriously not figure out how to simply melt the g.d. snow and ice on a road?!

Or, HMM. How about putting barrels of sand at all the bus stops or corners or something so that if your car starts sliding around uncontrollably and you can't get up a 1-foot hill, there is something there to HELP YOU. What, is sand really that expensive?! No. It's a cheap solution that everyone can enjoy. Ship it in from the beach. There's LOADS of it there. Or SALT! I'm going to have to start carrying this giant thing of sea salt I have for cooking in my glove compartment. If I ever get stuck, I'll sprinkle some on the ice, quick make a margarita and be on my way.

I listened to a car stuck on a patch of ice for 90 MINUTES tonight in front of my building. There were people down there helping him out, so I felt fine hanging out in my apartment, just being annoyed by the constant revving engine and spinning tires. I wanted to yell out "ALL YOU'RE DOING BY SPINNING YOUR WHEELS IS MAKING IT ICIER!" But I didn't because it's very cold out and I didn't want to open my windows.

I just don't get it. It's ice.I can BREATHE on ice and it melts. In fact, I complain about it MELTING TOO FAST in my drink. It is a simple, scientific process that happens ALL. THE. TIME. In our own freezers, even! How does this state, every year, be like "What?! ICE?! Well, eff it. I guess all we can do is wait it out because there is no way to melt ice. Maybe drive over it a bunch of times to make it nice and slick. Snow tires? NO MATCH. Let's just not do anything so that our cars are constant death-traps and every person ever is late to work." Ice? Yeah, eff you.

Sorry. I'm annoyed. Everything is 100 times harder in the winter on Minnesota roads. And rather than move out of this godforsaken state, I have decided to send an email to the boss of Minnesota or weather or whatever and tell them "This just in: Heat melts ice and snow. Can we maybe explore that concept a bit? Maybe instead of salting the roads, can we just drive over them with heated tires and hair dryers strapped to the side of the car?" How is that so far out of the realm of possibilities? If the Google car can map every single road in the county, some guy can drive around with rockets on his car saving everyone else 152 days in their commute.

Anyway, sorry. That is all. I have to get to sleep so that I can wake up 4 days ago to get to work on time tomorrow.

Snow way!

A few, blissful days ago, I lamented over the possibility that there would be no snow for the engagement photos Geo and I are taking next weekend. We wanted pretty Minnesota winter pics, but this place looked nothing like the snowy state I have known. Not one flake. Not a patch of black ice to be seen. I was all "Boo, Minnesota. BOO."

Oh, the ignorance of my three-day younger self! I woke up this morning to an absolute white-out. The property manager had to dig my car out so I could drive 10 blocks away to the store, which turned out to be an hour-long commute. My car skidded through no fewer than 2 stoplights and by the time I got done brushing my car off after it sat for 20 minutes while I shopped, my hair was soaking wet and I couldn't feel my fingers. I was all "Boo, Minnesota. BOO."

I got to my mom and dad's house to celebrate my dad's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, POPS!) after a white-knuckle drive, and it felt great being inside and warm. After like 20 minutes, though, I was like "I wonder what it would feel like to be freezing cold and wet again," so I went outside to build snowmen with my nieces. Mine was super big...and not to brag or anything, but mine was waaaaay better than atrocities that the 7-year-old and 4-year-old built. Pats self on back.

Part of me felt like a kid again as I rolled and packed and ate snow. But a bigger part of me felt very old because my back started hurting and I was overly frustrated with the proportions of the girls' snowmen and button placement. After the 52 days it takes 2 kids to build (and be satisfied with) 2 snowmen, I had had enough. My super big, down coat weighed approx 126 pounds after soaking up all the snow. My fingers were totally frozen and wet from insufficient (but adorable!) glovewear, and because I have no snowpants, the only protection my lower body enjoyed was the thin fabric of leggings. My hair was...well, it has looked better. Actually, it has never looked worse, and I've skipped washing it for 4 days before. I has a hot mess. Wait, no, I was an icy mess.

But after warming up with a mug of hot chocolate, I felt much better. I got hopeful for the engagement photo session and excited about the wispy, airy delicacy that tiny little snowflakes provide.

Then I left to go home, spent 20 minutes deicing my car windows and locks, skidded through a stoplight and parked in a spot I know I will not be able to get out of tomorrow. Then I decided I will be moving to Florida.

Mourning TV

Until recently, I couldn't have even pretended to have an opinion on morning news shows. I had never seen them, unless I was home sick, blind and delirious with the flu. I always assumed they were just very bad because I couldn't understand words at that point. However, during the couple days that I was working from home with a sore throat and an unexplained alarm in my vents going off every 2 seconds, I had to turn on the TV to drown out the beeping and the wheezing.

What I saw was an abomination in entertainment. Half of the morning "news" shows feature drunk hosts who are insufferable but somewhat entertaining, while the others are so mind-numbingly boring and  uninformed that I have considered sending a care package of tequila and issues of Entertainment Weekly to them. After seeing one particular morning show, (Fox 9 "The Buzz"), however, I literally wanted to rip my fingernails out and throw them at the TV. It was the worst show of all time. And I'm taking every Tyler Perry show into consideration, here.

After watching four people on an entertainment program struggle to remember WHO Jessica Simpson was once married to, I lost all faith in humanity. Well, more accurately, I lost all faith in morning show entertainment. I then came up with a new goal in life.

I will fix morning TV.

Now, we all know that I have paralyzing stage fright. There is nothing scarier to me than speaking in front of a camera. But I'm seriously considering giving all that up so that I can fix TV. I mean, I have an embarrassingly impressive wealth of knowledge when it comes to entertainment facts. I know everything about everything. (In Hollywood.) I am a seriously underutilized resource in morning television.

So I'm going to get over my stage fright and find a job on TV. Seems super easy, right? I think the toughest part of this goal will be dealing with the inevitable fame I will immediately enjoy. So many autographs, so little time.

For realsies, though, I really think I could spice up morning TV for the fives and tens of people I know who actually watch morning news shows. I OWE that to them, you know? I could explain how bad it is that Rihanna and Chris Brown are apparently attending the Grammys together or why Alessandra Ambrosio is ruining everyone's life with her pre-Victoria's Secret fashion show diet/severe problems with malnutrition. These are the REAL ISSUES, people!

Also, I can talk about the weather based on which pair of leggings I will wear that day. Priceless.

Yeah, so I'm going to just go ahead and decide to fix morning TV. I'm not entirely married to the idea of being on camera, but I'm sure that I'm better than all the other people on there right now, who incidentally, gets someone else to do their makeup every morning. That perk alone might make it worth my while.

Dear Crabby

It's late, you guys. I'll admit it. I've been waiting for my computer to cool down enough so that I can place it on my lap to type because I spent approx 2 hours watching back eps of Happy Endings and Don't Trust the B---- in Apartment 23. It's still pretty hot so I'm going to make this quick. But it's time for the triumphant return of......

Dear Crabby! Hooray!!! (Or Boooo! depending on your preference.) I'll admit...I've missed Crabby. Did you? Let's find out what's been waiting for her attention.

Dear Crabby,
I think my dog is a total perv. Seriously. He humps EVERYTHING and ANYTHING. Last night, he got in a fight with this huge dog because he went up and started humping him in the dog park. And my zebra slippers are but an innocent victim. ANYWAYS, I'm worried that my dog is going to get a reputation - or "puputation." What can I do?
Thanks,
Slutty Puppy

Um, hey there, SP-
I'll admit it. I didn't understand where your question was going. The whole "puputation" thing threw me for a major loop. But really? Are you seriously concerned with your DOG'S REPUTATION? What do you think is going to happen? He'll get bullied on Facebook? Shunned in the cafeteria? Sorry, SP, but your problem is not a real problem. Maybe stop bringing your horndog to the dog park...how 'bout that?

Dear Crabby,
ARGH! Where do I start? Okay, I was at store to find a wafflemaker because I was SUPER in the mood for waffles. While I was there, I got a phone call from my old manager at the restaurant I used to work at. He was all asking me about my new job and what I liked about it, and I got this feeling that he was trying to get me to come back to work. But he and I had had this weird thing going on, and I thought he was married, but he's not and it all got weird and I didn't know what to do so I left, so when he called and sounded like he wanted me to come back, I was pretty shocked. I tried to explain to him that I was happier at my new job, but he just kept asking me questions and  was being pretty annoying. When I tried to tell him that I wasn't looking...
-Preemptive Edit

OMG. I stopped that question because not only is it the longest question in the world, but it's also the most boring of all time. To the question asker: You're too longwinded and your question is not interesting. Sorry. But actually, you should be apologizing to ME for having to read eternity's longest email in the history of the world.

Dear Crabby,
I know a parent should NEVER say this about their child, but I can't help it. I've been trying to teach my kid to tie her shoes for seemingly 12 years, even though she's only 5. Is she a dummy, or am I teaching her wrong??
Thanks,
Shoe To-Do

Hey Shoe To-Do,
If there's anything I'm an expert in, it's judging other people for how they raise their kids even though I've never raised one of my own. (Details, details.) Based on my expert opinion, my guess is that you are teaching her wrong. She's a child, not a Kardashian. She can learn. I'm pretty sure you need to rethink your teaching methods and stop being so hard on your poor daughter. If you're not careful, she'll end up crazy...AND she won't be able to tie her own shoes. Tread lightly, lady...your kid is probably smarter than you give him/her credit for.

UGHHHHHHHHHHH! That was so CHALLENGING, you guys! I'm so GOOD at giving advice, but people with problems are so DIFFICULT. Anyways, if I forgot anything or got anything wrong, let me know in the comments. Now, my thighs are on fire from this devil computer so I'm calling it a night. If you have a question, totes shoot 'em to pharonsquare@gmail.com and I'll get to them as soon as my skin recovers from these 1st degree burns.

Pharon's Phridge

Hey nerds. Let's take an intimate journey into the life of one of the most prestigious bloggers in the world, shall we? I do this solely for my own vindication and in the hopes that someone somewhere will tell me where I've gone wrong. I'd like to take you guys on an exclusive tour of my refrigerator. Doesn't sound fun? Well, TOUGH. It will be fun and YOU WILL LIKE IT.

I'm doing this primarily because I have been completely confused by food lately. Every single edible item on the planet is hated by half the population while being hailed by the other half. No-fat diet? No! Do the All-Fat Diet! Eat vegetables and fruit? No! Fruit is packed with sugar! I'm sick of trying to figure it all out. For days a long time now, I've been focused on eating things that are not boxed or in bagel form. I feel good, but the expected "shedding" of pounds has yet to occur. And with a wedding date barreling towards me with relentless speed, I'd like to look like a rockstar with as little effort as possible. Now, before you guys get it twisted, I'm actually a happy, confident young thang who feels awesome but simply cannot give up carbs or red meat. But there's always room for improvement.

So, I took a picture of the contents of my refrigerator tonight. By all accounts, it would appear that I'm a good eater. (Both in quality and quantity.) Anyways, I basically just want to know what about MY food differs so greatly from others who do not find the same level of comfort in sweatpants as I do. So, without further ado, let us take a peek into the secret contents of the world's most famous blogger's refrigerator.

**QUICK FURTHER ADO: This is meant to be FUN, so any smarty-pants foodies who make your own tofu or only eat cayenne pepper need not apply. I love you, but do not have the same level of dedication to healthy foods that you do. **

Ta da! (I'll wait while you guys tweet this to Perez Hilton.) Now, I'd show you my dry food cupboard, but just trust that it is all just olive oils, cans of various beans and cupcake decorating materials from Valentine's Day. And I seriously have done absolutely no editing of the items in this picture. All that's in there is what you see.

And what you see is: Stupid brown eggs, kale, annoyingly expensive "good for you" bread alternatives, chicken breasts, cilantro, a half-eaten red pepper, an apple from a couple weeks ago, Greek yogurt, deliciously aged Parmesan cheese, more carrots than any human should ever own (in baby and shredded form) and unsweetened applesauce, which is exactly as untasty as it sounds. Oh, and the coconut milk is for smoothies I make every once in awhile. Using 2 tablespoons at a time means that that giant carton is likely close to expiring, if it hasn't already.

Honestly? It looks like I'm some hipster Trader Joe's junkie who shops in the XXS section of European stores. Spoiler alert: None of that is actually accurate. And also, it looks like I've never cooked a full meal in my life. Which is more accurate than not.

So, how does all THAT turn into fat that sticks to every withered muscle in my body? IT CAN'T. That's the answer. Or it's magic. Evil, stupid magic.

Now, I'd really like to re-emphasize the fact that I'm not ACTUALLY looking for people to be like "Here's some nutrition information." I don't want HELPFUL or CONSTRUCTIVE feedback, I want "YOU'RE RIGHT" feedback. That's all. But I also want people to know that despite my penchant for leggings and baggy shirts, I do think I make some good choices with food. Plus, in one week, this refrigerator will look VERY different since Geo will be back and will pack it with bacon, Coke and leftover pizzas. So, I wanted to capture this moment of effort for posterity.

FINE. Maybe I'm NOT looking for feedback. Maybe I'm simply trying to assure myself, in public, that I'm not so far gone. But, if you DO want to sing my praises and erect statues in my honor for my healthy habits that still somehow pack on the pounds, I shall not stop you and will attend the dedication ceremony. With a stomach full of coconut milk and carrots. And maybe a bagel.

Car Care?

Tonight I was chatting with my pal Liz about the ridonkulousness that is "getting your car fixed." It's a stupid-crazy process. To begin with, car guys are mean. They expect everyone to know what a serpentine belt is (which I DO know) and why you "absolutely must get your air filter replaced," (which is NOT TRUE). So Liz paid a bunch of money to have her car checked out only to learn two weeks later that 100 things have gone wrong in her ride.

So, in the interest of teaching you guys a solid lesson, I've decided to give you guys some tips I've learned over the years in regards to car care at the auto body shop. Keep in mind, please, that I have tested these methods over several years. I once got talked into buying two new tires during an oil change. But I am certainly much "smarter" now than I was back then.

Anyways, the next time you see that irritating "Check Engine" light flash in your car, or any other stupid-annoying warning light for that matter, run through these steps.

* If you don't believe that whatever warning light is on is real, either ignore it or simply place a piece of black electrical tape over it.
* If that stupid light has persisted and you worry about the state of your ride, FINE. Bring it to a dumb auto body place. Find the one with the cutest guys who work there and follow the next steps.
* Wear an adorable outfit that highlights your favorite assets.
* Walk in to said auto body place with confidence about yourself to replace the complete ignorance you feel about whatever thing is making your engine smoke and rev involuntarily at stop lights.
* Tell the kind gentleman behind the desk that you are just a stupid little woman who cannot possibly understand why the tire pressure light on your car is on and only his level of expertise can save you.
* Suppress every instinct you have to call out the guy when he tells you that your phalanges need cleaning.
* Make sure to slip in a comment like "I don't want to pay a lot or anything, but," then try and generate a tear or two, "I just am worried about driving my car if it's dangerous because I'm so cute and vulnerable."
* Knowing full well that your car is probably not going to explode, pull yourself together and then head over to the waiting room to read 3-month-old back issues of People.
* In several minutes, someone will come and tell you that your Check Engine light is on because you have left your gas tank door open for the past 6 days
* Laugh adorably before suggesting that maybe the guy should check your oil levels and tire pressure before sending you on your way. He wouldn't want you to get stranded, would he?!
* Stroll out of the auto shop on a cloud because you just pwned the system for a free checkup

I know it's not particularly feministic (real word? According to spell check, NO) or whatever, but hey. If a shop full of dudes wants me to be dumb and girlie so they can be the hero, I will play the part for a free checkup. If you are smart, you'll do the same thing. Unless you know something about cars, in which case I fully expect you to marginalize the dude trying to tell you that your culottes need fluffing.

Dec the Halls

I have been saying for years that I don't "seasonally decorate." I don't really get it. My mom and sisters all have their knick knacks and various holiday-themed bathroom towels and whatnot, but I've never picked up on that. My idea of decorating my house for the holidays involve a buttload of white Christmas lights and a scented candle for whatever the special day calls for: Sugar Cookies for Valentine's Day, Pumpkin for Halloween and Thanksgiving, Pine Tree for Christmas and Beer and Bagels for my birthday.

But this year I decided to give it a real shot. I think they call it "nesting," but I call it "bored and living alone." I dug out some of my alleged Christmas decorations. The decorations I have now have all been pilfered from my mom's boxes of "not quite good enough to put in my own home" over the past couple years. I mostly have chosen things that I think are either funny or only vaguely Christmas-y. So, it's all kinds of weird mish-mashy stuff. Usually, I put a few things up and it looks Christmas-ish in my apartment.

So tonight, it was a totally different world when my sister Prinna and I decided to surprise my mom by decorating her house for Christmas while she was out of town. My mom basically lives in a Macy's parade when it comes to Christmas decorations. There is an entire area of the home dedicated to storing her life-size Santa, musical elf things, cranberry wreaths and all that mumbo jumbo. I had no idea what I was in for.

I got to my parents house, and my dad had taken down the 1,405 red-and-greeen Tupperware cases full of decorations. Prinna and I stood among them, and felt totally lost. "Did this Noel banner thing hang on this wall or downstairs? Where were these candles last year? Does Mom like these tumbling snowmen sets anymore?" It was balls. I got overwhelmed immediately. I told Prinna, "I can't do it. There's too much stuff. There are just too.many.knick.knacks!" She calmed me down by saying "We don't have to do everything the same way Mom did it. Let's do our own thing." Then she described how to decorate a table with similarly-themed things and how to swoop garland on a staircase.

Not to brag or anything, but I really excelled in the candle-placing and light-stringing areas of decorating.

Anyways, we finished decking the halls of the main level of my parents' house in a brief 6 hours or so. We couldn't have been more proud of ourselves. We gazed over our beautifully arranged nativity scenes and bookshelf nooks and breathed in the piney goodness of the house. After walking around the house and finalizing lighting strategies, we were finally satisfied. It will be interesting to see how much of my mom pukes at and changes, though. I made an entire shelf of about 12 random Santa figurines and Prinna was like, "Oh. Um. So, that's a lot of Santas." And I was all "I know. It's the theme of the shelf...DUH." And then I stuck a candle in between them.

When I got back to my house, it was lackluster to say the least. The cranberry "garland" I haphazardly wrapped around my everyday TV set was no match for where I had just left. And even though I put white twinkle lights around my giant window and put my pine tree-scented candle next to a stack of back issues of Entertainment Weekly, I suddenly felt like my whole apartment was naked. So I pulled out all of my mom's reject decorations and threw them all around. It's not as good as my mom and dad's house, but at least it's something.