The Password is: Taxing

I'd like to start off by assuring everyone that I had big plans to be productive tonight. I worked through lunch to leave a bit early, even. Despite the lovely weather, I came up to my room and got ready to camp out in front of my computer for the night. That's right, dudes. it's TAX TIME!!!!

Or so I thought...

Because I couldn't remember the stupid dumb idiotic combination of my user name and password - for a freakin' site I visit ONCE A YEAR - I couldn't log in. So, I clicked "I can't remember my user name and/or password" and then couldn't answer the security question right, either. BLASTED!

Eventually, I cracked the code to have them send me my info. Only they haven't yet.

All night, I put off projects because I was all "As soon as I get that email, I'm FILING MY TAXES like a boss!" So I kept waiting, kept playing DrawSomething with my aunt Sarah, kept not getting the email. Now, here it is, 9 p.m. and I've accomplished nothing. Except a nap. I got that done.

You know what would rule? NOT HAVING TO REMEMBER A BAZILLION USER NAMES AND PASSWORDS. I mean, come ON! I'm sick of changing my passwords every other time I log in somewhere. I'm sick of entering a new password only to read the error message "YOU CANNOT REPEAT AN OLD PASSWORD." What!? How many combinations of numbers, symbols, capital letters, and lowercase letters can one girl remember?! Oh, and I can use a semi-colon, but I can't use a period?! WTF?!

I once read in The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell (I'm so interesting!!) that phone numbers are 7 digits long because that's the most amount of numbers one person can easily remember, while also offering the most options. So, can someone tell me WHY passwords have to be EIGHT characters long? According to my awesome mental math, that's one digit too long.

So, here I am, at the mercy of a delayed auto-generated email. Seriously?! It's been FOUR HOURS! Maybe the network administrator guy forgot his password to get into their system...

I wasted a whole night, I guess. Now I have to waste part of my weekend doing my taxes. LAME. What do YOU guys have planned this weekend? Resetting all your user name and passwords, like me? Don't be jealous...

Dear Crabby

I know, it's Wednesday. I KNOW, it's time for Dear Crabby. I KNOW I've blown it off for a couple weeks now, but listen, life doesn't STOP for crappy crabby advice. It's been exactly a month since my last attempt at changing lives in a very helpful and prolific way, so I'm sure everyone has just been a mess since then. The last time we last met Crabby, she was, uh, crabby. And unhelpful. Let's try and catch up, shall we?

Dear Crabby,
I just got a SUUUUUUUUUUUPER inappropriate picture from a guy I've been seeing for a weeks now. Like, X-rated. And COMPLETELY unwelcomed! Besides this latest thing, I thought he was pretty cool. Is this a serious red flag, or should I just let it go?

Stanks,
No ThanXXX

Hey No ThanXXX,
How do I put this delicately? RUN. Run far, far away. But listen, if you are an enterprising young lady, you, unfortunately, need to keep the picture. If this dude ever gets famous or rich, you can totes use the gnarly text against him and make millions! Consider it an investment! But first, change your number and possibly your name.

Dear Crabby,
What do you think about Botox? I'm 34 and considering it for the crow's feet I have.

Notox or Yestox?

Dear Notox or Yestox,
YOU ARE TOO YOUNG FOR BOTOX. I don't care if you have crow's feet. Seriously. Probably NO ONE cares. Injecting botulism into your face when you are in your 30s in crazy. Wait like 10 more years and look normal. I'm guessing that pretty soon there will be a Fountain of Youth pill, so yeah, wait for that. You'll look stupid with Botox in your face before then.

Dear Crabby,
I live in the same city as Jonathan Taylor Thomas. Remember him? From Home Improvement? I seriously have THE BIGGEST crush on him, and I really want to find a way to run into him and make a good impression. Any pointers?

Thanks,
I'm Down With JTT

Hello, Down With JTT,
Uh, well, so...Jonathan Taylor Thomas, eh? So that's your thing? Well, you could probably just mention that you know who he is. He'd probably like that, since no one else has said that to him in a bajillion years. I don't know. I don't know how to talk to famous - or even pseudo-famous - people. I would suggest either asking for his autograph or totally ignoring him. Gush over him or put him down. Whatevs. I don't know what to tell you. Good luck, though!

Phew! I forgot how tough that is! Have better advice? Have worse advice? Try your hand at helping out by slapping your input in the comments. Otherwise, if you have an issue that needs lickin', shoot an email to pharonsquare@gmail.com. I'll make sure it gets "solved".

It's a G Thang...I think?

Okay, so I was trying hard to stay focused at work today, but my mind kept wandering. Sometimes you just can't help it. So, to get back on track, I tuned to my fav Pandora channel and busted out work. When lunchtime came, I was walking to the lunchroom with my friend Rachel and all I could think of was "I ball so hard (*#%*#$)^)!@#s can't fine me...that @*#( cray".

That's because my favorite Pandora channel is a pseduo-hardcore rap station.

I wanted to sing it, rap it, whatever. But, obvs, I can't because the lyrics are...um...super offensive to most people. I can't help it. I LOVE HARDCORE RAP.

When I was in high school, I had a boyfriend. (Shocking, I know. But I did.) And for Valentine's Day, everyone just gave each other CDs. I gave him some cheesy love CD, and he gave me the CD I wanted SO badly but my parents wouldn't let me buy. It was Lil Kim. She is NASTY. (Dude, no WONDER my parents didn't like him!) I don't know what it was about her. I didn't understand a single thing she rapped about, but I knew I loved her.

Oh, have I mentioned I'm the squarest, whitest chick ever?

Listen, I know my parents will be disappointed in me. I do. However, I know more lyrics to NWA songs than anyone else I know. (Mom? Dad? Don't go Googling these songs or artists, K?) I had a pseudo-obsession with Eazy-E for a minute. I just really love songs about objectified women and hating the establishment, apparently.

Lately, though, my obsession has grown. I think it's because rappers are getting seriously CLEVER. Some of my faves use literary devices I still don't understand. They flip words and phrases to fit into a beat that just blows my mind. The way they play with words, use them to generate emotion, and on top of that RHYME EVERYTHING?! Excuse me while I swoon...

People can hate all they want on what they think the message of these songs are. Blah blah blah, so much swearing, so many versions of the word "b!tch", whatever. But the way I listen to rap is the way nerds read poetry. The message and lifestyle of the rappers I like most have almost nothing to do with me, but I don't care.

Can YOU think of 5 words that rhyme with "orange"? Because Eminem can. He plays with pronunciation and syllabic emphasis and ends up rhyming "orange" with "gunshot" or something.

Anyway, I think it's inspiring that there is an entire population of people who love words as much as I do, though we have almost nothing else in common.

I don't like drugs or sizzurp. Yes, I've got a rear end that won't quit, but I'm not exactly the girl in hip hop videos. The "streets" I grew up in were safe and friendly and I played tennis in them. I HATE guns, I don't enjoy hard liquor (besides vodka, dur), and I can't even say the phrase "what's up" without reenacting that stupid Budweiser commercial. I'm not the target market of these artists.

But darnit if I don't love me some wordplay and a hard beat.

My roommates Claire and Andrew got free tickets to see Lil Wayne in concert and I was CRAZY-JEALOUS. When they got home, they talked about how loud and rude people were, and how they didn't understand a word that the guy said. I was all "OMG, did he do 'She Will'? Could you see his face tats? Did he wear red jeans or talk about his jail stint?!" They looked at me like I was an alien. I don't care. The man dominates roughly 10 of my Pandora channels.

Anyway, so there ya have it. I love Kate Spade and hardcore rap. I'm a @#(%*#)^(&_* contradiction. Can YOU guys think of a word that rhymes with "contradiction"? AND tells a story?

You Do The Math

Duuuuudes. I'm so sleepy. I spent all night after work at my brother's house, helping him rearrange and reorganize some rooms. Yes, this is the brother who became a father like 7 days ago. Typical guy. Embarking on major projects while his newborn slept with his wife in the other room? Perfect timing. Luckily, my parents and Prinna were there too.

We got started by having me hold and cuddle Freya for an hour or so. I was working hard. Then we got to work on the spare bedroom. They just had their ceilings redone, so things are kind of in disarray. While Peter and my dad did manly things, like play with guns and lift heavy things, my mom and Prinna and I sat on the bed in the spare room, visualizing. After 60 or so suggestions, we decided to get started.

Prinna said "What if we move the bed there, and the dresser there. Will that fit?" I said, "Only one way to find out!" Did we fetch the measuring tape? Good lord, no. The only way to see if something will fit is to just move it and see. It's always such an adventure. Way better than MEASURING. That's for nerds and squares.

We had to move everything approx 100 times before finding the right configuration. It was heavy.

Then Peter comes in while we are attempting to hang a picture. He must have overheard our Mensa meeting regarding measuring and math. He watched skeptically as we "measured" (a.k.a. eyeballed) the height and tried to center it. Then I held the picture as Prinna drilled straight into the wall sort of where we agreed to drill. No level. No ruler. Just eyeballs. Peter was all "Uh, is that level?" We're all, "Lay off, Hitler, we're decorating here!"

Eventually we got it hung. STRAIGHT AND CENTER. Rulers? We don't need no stinkin' rulers.

When we got to baby Freya's room to hang some cute letters (F-R-E-Y-A, coincidentally) Peter started panicking. I was, apparently, way too lax in my placements and too liberal with my intended nail hole propositions for his taste. He had to leave the room to gather himself. My dad sat and said "Measure that part and that part, then add the total, divide in half and measure that far from the wall."

Exsqueeze me? I've got EYEBALLS, you know.

Instead, I followed my dad's advice. I said "Okay, the total is 14 inches plus 23.5 inches." He's all "So, add those..." My brain started throbbing. I started sweating. "Uh, 37.5 inches?" My dad said "Yes, now what's half of that?" My brain then exploded. That's, like, a FRACTION. You can't just HALVE fractions. So my dad watched as his adult(ish) daughter folded the measuring tape in half and I said "Okay, 18 and three medium lines."

Then my dad's brain exploded. Poor guy.

Anyway, after all the moving and brilliant mental math, I was pooped. Wiped out. So, I'm going to bed. I have to be up in, oh man, I don't know. Either 4 or 24 hours or something. Whatever, I'm not counting anymore today.

It's Got a Ring To It

Okay, I'm not going to be that girl who talks non-stop about her engagement. I'm not. Seriously. I'm a gal who, despite my best efforts to convince people otherwise, does not like talking about myself in person. Hence: this blog. When people are like "Hey, love your blog! I read it all the time!" I'm all "Er, thanks. It's just a blog...a monkey could do it. Don't you LOVE monkeys? I love monkeys. Let's discuss monkeys." So no, I'm not the bragging type.

But this engagement thing is proving to be quite beneficial.

Claire and I were doing some bulk shopping at Costco today. I picked out 6 pounds of Laughing Cow cheese, an enormous can of pickles, and Claire bought more garlic salt than either of us know what to do with.

As we were carting out of the store, I ran into a girl I knew in high school. She was with her husband and crazy-adorable son. She called me over and I stumbled my way through some small talk. Claire was flabbergasted by my incompetent conversational abilities.

See, in high school, this girl really intimidated me. We played soccer together, and she was a bold, strong, outspoken star on the team. I was 80 pounds and a shy and self-conscious weenie. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time just trying to make a good impression on her.

Anyhoozle, there she is, with her beautiful family, talking about the businesses she owns and the events she runs and then it came to me. She was all "So, what's up with you? What's new?"

I almost said, "Well, I live in Claire's attic, I don't have a savings account, and I am wearing a shirt with a panda on it because I don't do laundry." Instead, I dismissed it and said "I'm writing. It's pretty cool."

That's when Claire did a mini-intervention. She spoke up and was like "Well, she's writing for one of the most important companies ever, she's staying with me temporarily until she buys her house and her FIANCE is studying genetics in grad school." The girl was like "OMG, you're ENGAGED? When are you getting married?" I said "Oh, well, it only happened last week. We don't have a date. It's, you know, no biggie." But actually, it IS a biggie and I'm horrible about talking about anything even remotely "biggie".

We got in the car afterwards and Claire was like "What HAPPENED to you?! You couldn't say one cool thing about yourself?! I can't believe I had to step in like that!" The point is, even though I've been staring at my new ring for hours on end, I can't exactly bring myself to brag or dwell on it. I don't know what it is, but I will say that the instant Claire said I was engaged to an awesome dude, I felt vindicated. I hadn't showered in two days, but suddenly I couldn't care less.

My point, and I do have a point, is that um, being engaged is pretty tops. Paying one of my best friends rent suddenly doesn't seem so pathetic when I'm SAVING FOR A WEDDING. More importantly, running into a former high schooler who sometimes scared me isn't so scary anymore.

Rest assured, I will not spend a lot of blogs talking about the fact that I am engaged. I won't. It's not nearly as interesting to others as it is to me. I mean, wouldn't we ALL rather talk about how I make do on only doing laundry every 10 weeks? We would. BUT! I hereby reserve the right to discuss this when and if I ever run into someone I knew in high school who scared the bejezus out of me at some point. K? K.

"Are you serious?!"

This is real. This happened.

GEO PROPOSED TO ME IN CALIFORNIA! He talked to my dad, got down on that knee and said he loved me and held out a ring and...wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Here are the deets:

It had been a tumultuous couple days. I hadn't seen Geo much since I was busy hiking and hanging out with his mom and sister Sanna, while he was busy golfing with his dad. The weather was COLD AND RAINY for the first couple days so activities were altered. Add to that my adorable new niece being born, and I was just a little homesick. I wasn't myself, y'all.

On the first gorgeous morning, after I had gotten over my funk (phunk?) Geo, Sanna, Sanna's friend Pat, and I decided to get some breakfast at the fancy hotel restaurant. We shoved fancy food in our mouth holes and headed out to this beautiful pond to look at the flamingos. Geo LOVES the flamingos.

So we're standing there, lookin' at the pink birds, and I'm trying to take pictures. Geo puts his arm around me and I'm all "Hey, stop it! I'm trying to take a picture! GUH!"

That was, apparently, his cue.

He spun me around, got down on one knee and I screamed. I screamed and I cried and I said "NO! OHMYGOD, ARE YOU SERIOUS?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?!?!" He laughed. I have almost no idea what he said then. I remember seeing his face, hearing him say he loves me, and then he blinded me with a diamond. A Real. Life. Diamond.

I wiped the snot from my nose (Charming!) and said "YES! YES! OHMYGOD, YES!"

We hugged, he kissed me and then I spent the afternoon blinding people with my sparkly ring.

It was amazing, dudes. I was so completely shocked and overwhelmed that I almost threw up. Swoon! There was more to the trip, but obvs this was the best moment for me. There is one more pic I'll share with you guys, because it captured the moment after the proposal and the beautiful scenery around us.

(Huge thanks to Sanna for managing to secretly photograph the entire thing!)

So yes. I'm officially engaged!!!! Can you believe it?! The only bummer is that boo, now I'm back home and Geo is back in 'bama, but I don't care. Now that I have this ring, I only KIND of miss him. JUST KIDDING.

I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Sorry to break it to everyone else. I'm seriously over-the-moon excited and can't wait to start planning a Kate Spade-themed wedding complete with teacup piglet ring bearers. Geo will probably be there too...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I'm engaged, you guys! I'm going to get married!

Ooooh, and also I tried In and Out Burgers for the first time too, but I'll save that for another post...have a great weekend you guys!

Little Bundle of Adorable Hair (Vacay post 1 of 2)

Remember how I said that I would try and update you guys on my trip if anything exciting happened? Turns out TOO MANY EXCITING THINGS HAPPENED. I didn't even have time to pull my thoughts together and failed miserably at sharing some great news with everyone. I am dedicating a post to each exciting thing.

First and foremost, this little lady decided to come:

This little chubby-cheeked lady was born!!! Her name is Freya Sophia Irma Lundquist. She is THE BOMB! Look at that face! Look at that hair!!

My sister-in-law Nicole had her, sans epidural (is she Wonder Woman? Is she crazy? We may never know) and I fell in love immediately. I first saw her on FaceTime, since I was still in Cali when she was born. I bawled and smiled and wanted to nuzzle her wittle teeny facey wacey immediately. She's perfect!

I went and saw her for the first time tonight. I helped my brothers build little Freya's crib and held her and snuggled her. She's a pretty amazing bundle to come back to.

So yay! New baby! New person to spoil rotten! You'd think that this would be enough excitement for one trip, right? Before I got the chance to blog about her, something else happened.

Something else SERIOUS happened. On to post 2 of 2...