Show Us Your Beads!

Alert! Alert! I've been browsing the Kate Spade website for over an hour now, periodically adding items to my Shopping Cart and then quickly removing it, lest I quickly click "BUY" in a spontaneous fit of Spade Lust. I need an intervention. Aw, but those tidbit plates are sooooooooooo cute! NO! No. Must. Write. Blog.

Okay, I made it. That was close. I was thisclose to rationalizing my way into a new bag AND new rain boots. Priorities, Pharon. Anyway, Happy Fat Tuesday! Apparently, Fat Tuesday is officially the the last day to gorge yourself silly before fasting begins on Ash Wednesday (tomorrow). Silly me, I always thought it was "An awesome reason to go out in sequins and fake eyelashes on a school night". (Not that I ever really needed a reason, but oh well.)

During college, my friends and I would get all snazzed up and go celebrate this "holiday" we knew nothing about. All we knew was that it was a big night in New Orleans for some reason, and there are bands and stuff, but as far as we were concerned, it was a pre-St. Patty's Day party. But with more beads. We'd all go out and throw on 10 pounds of beads, find some feathers, trade some girl a glow bracelet for a masquerade mask, and dance around drinking fruity drinks. We may not have really known what we were celebrating, but trust that we were celebrating. Yay! Mardi Gras! (Or something!)

I don't think I've gone out for Fat Tuesday since college. Sad. Now it's just plain ol' "Tuesday". And, depending on what I've eaten that day, it may or may not be Fat. Tonight, for instance, I'm at home watching Teen Mom with the roommies in our freshly HEATED house (yes, we have heat again!). To make it worse, I missed a text from Geo asking if I wanted to go out for a late dinner/drinks, because I was too busy NOT shopping online. Laaaaaame!

There are no parades in my 'hood today, no sparklers, no sequins or feathers. The only things I indulged in today were too much Crystal Light and Angry Birds. Ah, the life of the aged. I've changed, I know it. I talked to Madeline today and we both decided our lives were sorely lacking the fun and spontaneity of our younger years. She's way out in Chicago, I'm in frigid Minneapolis, and I have a feeling neither one of us is going out and tossing beads around like it's our job. (Madeline, you BETTER not be having that kind of fun without me!)

On the plus side, I did just snag a highly coveted hair appointment at a salon Kim recommended (but is apparently impossible to get in to), so maybe my indulging will start on Friday when I'm enjoying a Stella Artois at Salon Stella, getting my burlap-y hair snipped, and gearing up for a crazy fun weekend. And before that I've got Happy Hours, shopping, and Skype dates with Madeline planned. Turns out my Fat Tuesday this year is turning into Fat Week-After-Tuesday. I'm psyched. Mardi Gr-awesome!

Badder Business Bureau

What is this world coming to? Seriously. I came home tonight, and one of my roommates was visibly upset. Turns out, Bally's Fitness Center is the Second Scammiest Company in the World. (I reserve that coveted top spot for one insurance company that shall remain nameless. Nope, screw it...World's Scammiest Company is Federated Insurance. Coming in a very close third behind Bally's is Comcast, for reasons I've explained before.)

But Bally's, man. They are horrible. DO NOT EVER SIGN UP for a membership there. Basically, my roommie signed up for a membership, asked if she could cancel at any time, and the dude said "Yup!" So, she signed a piece of paper and started using their crappy equipment. A few months later, she realized that Bally's is the worst gym ever. Cut to: tonight. She was looking at how to cancel her membership, and discovered the jackwad who assured her they weren't Soviet Russia had lied. She was locked in to her membership for THREE YEARS. Needless to say, she was upset.

I leapt into action, cyber-sleuthing my way through hundreds of links to people who have had the exact same life-ruining experience. Then I got Prinna to help. Within seconds, Prinna had found out who to contact, what to do, and why they make life so incredibly hard for people who pull back the curtain and discover that Bally's is just a bad, bad company.

What has happened to these companies? They SUCK. They screw with regular people all the time. They're all like "Yay! We're the best! Come work for/play with/hire us! We are awesommmme!" And then all of a sudden, something goes wrong, and they're like "FACE! PWNED YOU! You idiot! You TOOOOOTALLY trusted us and we GOT you with the fine print! Suckahhhh!" Wouldn't it just make more sense to, I don't know, not be a gnarly business?

I get so annoyed when things like this happen. I do. The average person is stressed out right now. Recession, unemployment, tech-overload, bills, trying to stay away from anything promoted by Kim Kardashian. Seriously. We don't have the capacity to also research every company ever to make sure they aren't, in reality, the worst company ever. I don't want to have to google "Target" just to make sure that by parking in their parking lot I'm not also agreeing to let them hire my car out for taxi services.

It's just so SAD and soulless. I know I'm ranting, but I don't care today. I'm annoyed that companies can abuse and harass the very people who keep them in business. It's childish. It's mean. It's, well, it would seem to me to be just Bad Business. Wouldn't it be more cost-effective to, oh I don't know, FIX a problem instead of running around covering your tracks? I didn't go to some fancy Business classes, but I DO know this: When I wear my hair in a ponytail all day and have a huge crease in it when I take it down, yes I COULD spend hours to try and straighten it and creatively braid it to hide the crease before heading out to play Bingo. But no: I wet it down in the sink wash it and get rid of the problem. Is that so hard to understand?

On the other hand, here is a quick list of companies who blow me away with their excellent service and help. They don't even have the greatest products all the time either, but I like them because if and when I have a problem, they fix it and help me understand what went wrong. They don't throw a piece of legalese my way and tell me I'm screwed before evil-laughing into the phone. Here are the Good Guys: USBank, Target, AT&T, Trader Joe's, YMCA, Kate Spade, Subaru, IKEA, Zazzle.com, and MAC Cosmetics. I like them. You all should support places like them who are nice and curtious and not evil.

But, my Public Service for the weekend is this: If you can at all help it, do NOT, and I repeat do NOT give your business to Bally's (or Federated or Comcast). They're bad, bad people. See you guys? I'm helping here. I'm providing a service to my faithful readers. And I urge you, if you are dissatisfied with your service or if I can improve your experience in any way, I look forward to speaking with you. I honor your patronage and will do everything in my power to give you the product and service you expect from us here at Pharon Square. (Bally's, are you writing this down?)

Peace out, guys. This weekend, do something nice for someone else. Because hey, SOMEone's gotta do it...

Wednesday Winner

Big election week. Congrats to the winners, bummer to the losers. Politics, man. It’s a dirty game.

With that in mind, let’s move on to the Wednesday Winners!! Such a tough week, people. Too many of you have been incredibly good to me, unyielding in your compassion, and overall generous with your kind words and gifts of Kate Spade bags (Lana and Valerie!). But, decisions must be made, and a winner must be crowned. This Wednesday, I have two winners who must share the prize. The two have spoiled me rotten this week with bribes, incentives, and praise. That shall not go unnoticed (as mentioned in the first installment of Wednesday Winner). So, Congratulations to People Who Bribed Me!!

First, my sister Padrin.

Padrin went above and beyond her sisterly duties this past week. I feel like I should give you a brief background on Padrin and me. When I was little, I called her Queen Padrin. Every night, I’d go downstairs in the dark and fetch her a glass of water with “a lot of ice, and a little water”. I did this DESPITE the fact that she also told me that little gremlins live in the cupboards at night. Still, I did it. I was obsessed with her. My childhood diary is basically Padrin‘s itinerary. “Padrin came home at 12:51 tonight and Mom got mad.” “Padrin is going on a date tonight, but said I could watch a movie in her room”. Or even “I was bored tonight, so Padrin said I could paint her toenails.” Eeesh.

But now, all is well and I’ve finally developed that backbone I sorely lacked in childhood. So, now she lives in Decorah, IA with her hubby and 2 awesome kids. On Thursday night when I met up with my fam for a nice birthday dinner, I was shocked to see Padrin standing at the top of the steps. She drove over 3 hours to surprise me at dinner, only to turn around and drive back the next morning. That, my friends, is dedication. It was an incredible surprise, and to top it off, she got me what every young, modern woman dreams of: a bag of Amish items. Amish bonnet, Amish potholder, book about being Amish. It was Amishtacular. And lest I mistake her gifts for simple adoration, she then said “If THIS doesn’t make me Wednesday Winner, I don’t know WHAT will.” Well Queen Padrin, Congratulations! You’ve finally achieved the highest honor in the land.

Secondly, I also recognize my friend Kim.

Brief background on Kim and me: We met in Minnesota and moved to Iowa City for college, where we lived and laughed together for 2 years. Now we’re both back in the Cities and more annoying together than ever! (Just ask Geo.) This past week, especially, she pulled out all the stops for me. She suffered through shopping at Forever 21 with me, she and I watched the triumphant Hawkeyes game together, she treated me to an awesomely delicious “chocolate explosion” ice cream cake, and on Saturday night when we all went out, she did her darndest to make sure I was having as much fun as possible. Plus, she made a house full of drunk people come together and sing Happy Birthday to me. The icing on the cake was the adorable sweatshirt and Kate Spade perfume she got me. I look and smell better than ever!

So, my sincerest thanks and adoration go out to Padrin and Kim this week. You guys made me laugh, made me smile, and totally made my week! All it took was an interstate road trip, endless hours of attention, and a few spot-on gifts. I told you guys I’m not above being bribed. In fact, I am allllllllll for it. Congratulations, ladies! May this fake, yet well-deserved, award serve you well in future weeks. May it carry you through the darkest of days and toughest of times. And to all others who are reading this: I am still accepting gifts in the form of cash, Kate Spade bags, and surprise road trips. Well done, ladies!

Breaking News! I'm Awkward!

If you could sit down and interview anyone right now, who would it be? Seriously…straight up anyone. Lots of people would be like “Ghandi” or “Jesus” or “Snookie” or someone similarly prolific. I could never sit across from, say, Barack Obama with like a zillion well-thought out questions, and stay cool the whole time. I once met Arnold Schwarzenegger's stunt double in 1998, and fell totally mute. I’m so NOT cool.

So today, I watched an interview Anderson Cooper did with Eminen, and it was pretty good. If it had been me doing the interviewing, it would have been catastrophic. I’d probably throw up some gang sign or offer him some Vicodin or something. Eminem would get up, rip his mic off, and fire whoever set up the interview. And then get me fired. And get all my friends fired. Sorry, friends. I’ll stay away from the formal interviews for now.

But I just don’t have a really great answer to that very basic question of Who I Would Like to Interview If I Got The Chance. I mean, I guess I’d say someone like Sarah Silverman, because I idolize her, but I know that wouldn’t go very well either. I’d be gushing the whole time. “Sarah! Sarah! Remember in your movie Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic when you did that bit about Jewish people driving German cars? Oh man, that was so funny! And, and, and, when, on your TV show when you hallucinated because you drank too much cough syrup! I loved that episode! OH! And that song you sing where you‘re having carnal relations with Matt Damon! Genius!” No where in that total Fan Girl situation would I be able to ask a relevant question, AND stay calm long enough to hear the answer.

Maybe I could start with someone I’m not obsessed with. You know, sit down at a coffee shop with a tape recorder and pad and pen, and say something like:

Pharon Square: Thanks for letting me pay for your coffee, Mr. Nicolas Cage. It’s, uh, pretty okay to meet you, I guess. Your hair is, um, unfortunate. Tell me, what is your acting process? Like, how do you achieve such an incredibly high level of mediocrity?
Nic Cage: Uhhhhh…..whaaaa? Am I on Con-Air?
Pharon Square: No, you’re at Starbucks.

I just wouldn’t be able to find a happy medium between gushing my affection and fighting the urge to cut the other person’s face. In theory, sure, there are some people I’d like to sit down and have a beer with, but I guarantee they wouldn’t want to sit with me. Kate Spade has no interest in how I had the paint store match a paint to the color of a Kate Spade box so I could cover my walls in Kate Spade green. She’d be all, “Oooookay….whoops, I forgot about that jury duty thing I have to leave right now for.” And I guarantee Nelly Furtado would call in the cops when I start signing all her songs back to her…even the ones in Portuguese. I’m just not cool enough to interview the people I like, and I’m too cool for the likes of Heidi and Spencer Pratt.

I guess I’ll have to leave the juicy tell-alls to TMZ and Barbara Walters. All that caring and listening and talking seems like waaaay too much work for me anyhow. Plus, I figure, for every one interview with Ghandi, it’d take like a zillion interviews with the Nicolas Cage’s of the world, and I just don’t need to know the meaning of life that badly.

Forgive me...

There are a few things you must know about me. I consider myself a pretty decent judge of music. I was in band and played piano until I was 18, and I go through phases of obsessively listening to every type of music from NWA to Prince to Reba McIntyre to Bob Dylan to Ke$ha. I’d also consider myself a pretty decent judge of literature. I majored in English in college, worked at a magazine for a few years and now work at a publishing company. Lastly, I’m obsessed with all that Kate Spade has ever made and everything she will ever put her name on. So, with all that explained, I have some confessions I’d like to make.

I love Miley Cyrus, Cosmo Magazine, and $10 bags from Heartbreaker stores.

Let me first explain Miley. I nannied for my niece Annabelle when she was 3 years old. I got positively sick of hearing Sesame Street or Dora the Explorer all the time. The happy medium we discovered was Mylie’s show Hannah Montana. She loved the music and colorful clothes, I loved that it wasn’t on PBS. But sweet nibblets! I got majorly sucked in. She’s like the new version of Clarissa Explains it All. So, when her songs started playing on the Top 40 radio station, I couldn’t make myself turn them off. She’s 17, not a “strong” performer yet, probably too provocative, maybe a little irresponsible, but what do I care? She’s not my daughter. So, I download her songs and crank them up. I have no apologies. Plus, I really doubt there’s anyone in the country who doesn’t know the words to Party in the U.S.A.

Second, Cosmo. I’ve read this magazine since I was 15 and stealing them from my older sisters. Cosmo is easy-reading full of girlie need-to-know stuff. Don’t know how to do a smokey eye? Here’s how: in 3 steps. Wondering what goes on in a guys brain on the first date? They’ve already polled 1,000 men. But my favorite part is always the quizzes. They could not be easier to ace. There’s always one crazy choice, one boring choice, and the perfect medium. This month, there’s a “What Kind of Hot Are You?” quiz. The results are: Statement-Making Hot, Down-to-Earth Hot, Bombshell Hot, and Girlie Hot. No matter what I choose, the result is: I’m Hot. It’s like a mug of hot chocolate for my self-esteem.

Finally, cheap bags. The only bag I carry right now is a Kate Spade bag with black and white logos on the outside, and purple silk on the inside. My boyfriend gave it to me for my birthday, and I adore this bag. But unfortunately, I do not enjoy the lifestyle that allows me to purchase Kate Spade items every day. I have Kate Spade shoes, jewelry, bags, wallets, stationary, glassware…most all of which have been gifts. So, when I’m really itching for a new bag, I feel like I’m cheating on Kate by buying a different, cheaper designer’s. Instead, I walk on down to Heartbreaker and by some no-name cheap pleather bag in a crazy color that I‘ll use like 5 times. It costs me all of $10, and I don’t suffer the guilt of investing in something non-Kate. When I’m finally at a point in life where I can choose quality over quantity, I would suggest you invest in Kate Spade stock.

Whew! That felt good to get that off my chest. Now I can get back to BBC and studying Pavarotti.