Bow Down

Happy Easter, everyone! How was your weekend? Was chock full of chocolate, eggs and other types of food like mine? I HOPE SO. Anyway, my sister Padrin was in town with her fam for the holiday, and it was a great way for me to really focus on me. How does that work? I'll tell you.

My nephew Gus is in a very stylish point in his young life (he's like 9 I think. Between ages 5 and 16, they're all the same to me.) Anyway, he is in this bow tie phase and apparently has been rockin' one for weeks now, and he looks great. This weekend, however, he brought a real bow tie for Easter. Like, not a pre-tied one. 

There are two reasons this was awesome for me: 1) Geo, like Gus, has an excellent fashion sense. For our wedding, Geo ALSO wants to rock some real BTs and I like knowing that even the kids are still loving the classics. 2) I've ALWAYS wanted to know how to tie a BT. Hot women in movies always know how to tie a man's bow tie. It's never the train wrecks who straighten and fix a man's tie, it's always some chic put-together women. And if you've learned anything from this blog, it's that I'm constantly wanting to be that kind of woman but fail 99.99% of the time.  

So on Saturday night, we realize that no one in my fam knew how to tie a bow (except my good ol Daddio, but we didn't learn that until later). I STEPPED UP TO THE PLATE.

Gus gave me his tie and I tried several times to no avail. People were losing all faith that Gus would be the dapper dude at church  because I couldn't get it together. 

But a few YouTube videos later, I was tying that bow tie like a BOSS. I practiced a billion times on myself, and then tried it on Gus. (Lesson: There is nothing that 9-year-old boys like less than an aunt all up in their personal space grooming them.) I had hit a home run.

I was super psyched. I had learned a valuable, useful and pretty unique life skill in one night. Why can't all lessons be this easy? I had all these images of me being sought out at my wedding by guys who need their bow ties tied properly. "We KNOW Pharon is getting her hair done, but she's the only person in the world who can make us, a group of ragtag guys, look amazing. We NEED her!" Most people would hate having all that distraction on a wedding day, but I will take any opportunity to be popular. 

At Easter lunch today, I showed off my new talent to my aunts and grandma, all of whom were impressed. My grandma was like "Well, that looks absolutely perfect. So fast, too!" SCOREEEEEEEEEE. 

I wanted to show off to Geo, so I had Padrin take a video of me on Sat. night demonstrating to him the latest reason that I'm a pretty useful chick to be marrying. I sent it to him and he said "Very impressive." I'm assuming that he's sending my flowers and medal in the mail. 

Anyway, here's the vid. I'll accept accolades, applause, acclaim and appointments to come and tie your man's bow tie anytime. 

To Prinna

Do you ever just look at someone you've known forever and suddenly understand how truly amazing they are? It's like holding on to a rock for years and then looking down and seeing a diamond. One second you are all used to the shape of something and the next, it explodes into fireworks and other cool $hit.

Let me tell you, it's awesome.

Giant congrats to my sister Prinna and her three amazing performances at The Moth. "Well done" doesn't even begin to cover it.

ME-rror Fast

You know how much I love trends, right? And you know how obsessed I am with myself, yeah? Well when I heard about a trend involving no dietary changes and mirrors, I was IN. I didn't understand much about these so-called mirror fasts. I assumed they were speedy ways of looking at yourself in the mirror and being nothing but stoked about what you see. Get this....I, Pharon Square, Knower Of All, was wrong. WHAT?!

It was in this rando article that I can't even find again about how the media is being cruel to Krazy Kim Kardashian about her baby weight. I am NOT going to poke fun at the weight of one human building another human inside their body, and people who do are useless and need to find something else to talk about. Like I did with T Sweezie.

Anyhooz, the article continued on to talk about positive body-image role models. There was a long list of people who are beautiful and not crazy, and a bunch of the people on the list were bloggers who had participated in this mirror fast fascination. I was all "I'm a blogger! I should be doing that too!"

There are some major hiccups with this thing. A mirror fast basically is a FAST FROM MIRRORS. It has nothing to do with speed and everything to do with giving something up completely. You all know how I LOATHE that concept (I'm lookin' at you, Atkins). Basically, you are forbidden from ever looking in a mirror. You can't sit in front of one and pluck your eyebrows, gaze into your own eyes or pick apart every imperfect feature below the neck. You can't look at your reflection in a window and admire how good your hair looks, even though you haven't washed it for 5 days. You're ON a fast. From mirrors.

I briefly considered doing this. I was like "Oh how freeing it would be to not spend so much time worrying about my appearance! Rip off these shackles chaining me to society's view of physical perfection!"

The problem, I quickly realized, was that I'm pretty sure these fasts aren't for me. Taking mirrors away from me would be like taking a $20 from Warren Buffet. Probably no one would notice.

I counted the number of mirrors that I look in on an average day. There's the one I use in the bathroom to put my contacts in (that's kind of necessary), there's a tilted full-length mirror in my room so that I can make sure I am wearing matching clothes that do not have holes in them (and look super tall) and the one at my front door. You can only see like a cheek or an eyebrow in it because it's so small, but I use it to make sure I've wiped off last night's eye makeup and don't have poppy seeds from my bagel in my teeth before going into public.

The point is, I'm not falling in love with myself or beating myself up just because I'm looking at myself. In fact, some would argue that I should consult a mirror more often. I mean, sure, there are moments when I'm like "Gross, where did that back fat come from!?" But then there are other days when I'm like "Oh, hey! Look at that! My butt is lookin' goooood in these jeans! I'm never taking them off again!"

But mostly I decided not to give up mirrors because it sounds hard. You can't see your clothes, you can't see  your face, you can't see your super cool angry faces that you make during kickboxing, and you can't make yourself laugh by putting on a rainbow-colored wig, glitter heels and your awesome onesie/footie pajamas and dancing to I Love It in your bedroom. Who else will be able to appreciate that visual?

So, while I understand the point of a mirror fast and can think of a few people who could probably benefit significantly from it, it's just not for me. And that IS what it's all about, right? ME ME ME. Me....I am definitely not the kind of self-involved person who needs to stop obsessing over herself. Now, back to me.

Not-So-Pretty Little Liar

Real world? Is that you out there?

Despite getting cable about a week ago, I have done nothing but purchase a season pass on iTunes for Season 3 of Pretty Little Liars and watch that obsessively. OBSESSIVELY. I can't talk to real people without associating them with Aria, Hanna, Emily or Spencer or wonder if the people closest to me are posing as A (watch the series, I promise it'll make sense). It's a problem.

You guys? This show has gotten me thinking. I feel like I should lie more. I feel like I should have some deep, dark secrets about past relationships or stints in insane asylums, but so far I've come up with zilch. One time I lied to my college roommates and told them that a friend and I had met and taken a shot with Ashton Kutcher (he went to U of Iowa, so it was totes plausible that he would return to a college town bar and mingle with the coeds). I told my first employer that I was stellar at logical reasoning and math. I've told friends I'm busy when I'm really just sitting at home watching Pretty Little Liars. Not exactly series-finale type stuff.

I don't think I'm a good liar. In fact, I'm downright bad at it. I offer too many details and beg people to believe me too much. I could never be one of those people who nonchalantly tosses my hair while concealing evidence or hiding a letter in my designer handbag. I'm too chatty. Too desperate to be liked. Too loving of gossip. No secrets here, folks.

Also, I'm never smart enough to stay one step ahead of anything. It's hard, and I think it involves math or physics of some sort. Not my bag, baby. (OMG, really? An Austin Powers reference? What is HAPPENING to me?!)

So yeah. that's my downfall. I'm bad at lying. I'm 100% sure that this is not the worst trait in a person. And right now I'd be lying if I said I had some clever way of ending this post or say that I've got an appointment to volunteer somewhere. Because I don't. I'm just going to end it because this TV ain't gonna watch itself.

I miss real life.

Concast: Part Deux

Talk about your all-time backfires...

I had grand plans to get on here and proudly state that I, Pharon Square, am now the proud owner of a cable box and high-speed Internet. I was gonna be all "La di da, I have cable! CABLE! SO MANY EPS OF FRIENDS RERUNS! See you never, SUCKAS!" But no. Something has happened and I am going to rip my brain out.

So, it started when some dude from the previously hated Comcast company showed up to hook up my spankin' new cable. He's all "Do you have a router?" And I was all "Um, there's an Airport over there, does that work?" And he shrugged and said "Um, maybe?" I was not confident.

Cut to 2 hours later after dude has used 112 tools, 7 cords and 1 freakishly silent bathroom break (you have no clue how small my apartment is) to hook up one box to one TV. It should have been pretty simple, right? I had forgotten how stupid cable companies are, though. It wasn't until hours after random dude left when I realized my Apple TV no longer works and I can't watch ANY episodes of Pretty Little Liars. Kill me. (Yes, I get the irony of hooking up cable only to turn it off in favor of watching Netflix, but I have to catch up on Season 2 before I can DVR season 3, DUH.)

As mentioned in my Facebook post, the Comcast dude also brought up gun control rights. He was all "Why limit access to high-capacity magazines? People who want them will still get them anyways." And I chimed back with "You make such a good point. Yeah, people will break laws anyways, so why have laws? Why doesn't everyone just promise to be cool about everything?" Then he said "What would you do if someone came in here with a gun?" And I got super freaked out and said "Well, I'm actually a ninja, so....yeah." Call the police.

Anyhooz, when I was growing up, we had a creek in our backyard. It was fun for ice skating and canoeing, but according to my parents, it was the one and only thing standing in between us and Nickelodeon. They told us (a.k.a. LIED TO US) that because of the creek, we could never have cable. Cables couldn't be put under water, so all of us who lived on the water would never know the joy of MTV or Hey, Dude. I came to terms with this at a young age, much like I came to terms with having no central air conditioning (I know. ROUGH LIFE.)

Then I learned that the Fosters down the road had cable (and central air). They also lived on the creek. My entire life was a lie.

I didn't have cable until I was, I don't know, how old was I 10 years ago? I got cable and assumed I'd see non-stop porn and swear words. And then I realized that all cable is is 70 percent reruns, 10 percent mediocre shows, 10 percent infomercials, 5 percent good shows, 3 percent amazeballs shows and 2 percent Kardashian and/or desperate housewives shows.

On the one hand, I'm super glad my parents did get me all looped up on cable when I was young. I liked playing with real people instead of watching shows about fake people. But on the other hand, I'm concerned that keeping me from cable is exactly why I'm so obsessed with it now.

At any rate, I live alone, work from home several days a week and now have cable. I'll see you guys never, okay?

Something Stinks

I hesitated with the title of this blog. Based on my history and keen sense of humor, one would assume this post would be about doody. But it's not. It's about something much less funny and much more fragrant.

You guys? I HATE FLOWERS. I hate them. They are smelly and fragile and never the right color and there are just way too many kinds and they are dumb. Flowers? PSHT. Who needs flowers?

Oh, wait. I do. I need them because apparently weddings are just hoedowns in an abandoned sewer drain without them. I went to a florist today to pick out the uber-necessary blooms that will apparently make or break my nuptials. I know NOTHING about flowers. Zip. I know as much about flowers as Taylor Swift knows about being fun or interesting. (Hooray for a new celeb target! It feels a little cheap, I know, considering T.Sweezie is allegedly talented and not a convict, but Angelina has been in Transylvania or something and Kim Kardashian is busy baking a half-human, half-fame-whore in that pod she calls a belly, so I've gotta move on temporarily.)

Anyway, the only thing I knew about flowers is that I only liked one flower. One. And I liked it because it had black in it, which matches everything. I knew that one fact and that was all I was prepared for when I met with the florist. I announced confidently, "Me likey anenomes. I want all anenomes all the time and all I've ever looked at is anenomes, so this should be a very quick appointment."

Then the florist drops a reality bomb on me: Anenomes aren't a summer flower. Sorry. Would I like daisies?

NO, I WOULD NOT LIKE DAISIES.

Excuse me, but I just bought a cactus in IKEA recently. Something tells me those are not native to the Swedish meatball aisle in a Minneapolis store in December. Someone somewhere can grow me some anenomes. Should I check the Ektorp sofa aisle?

Yeah, so about 3 minutes into my appointment, everything I knew I liked about flowers was pooped on (Hey! Look at that! This post IS about doody!) and smashed in my face. Then I vaguely remember the woman repeating several words I've never heard before that are allegedly names of flowers. They meant nothing to me. All I heard was "These are not white flowers with black centers. These are not white flowers with black centers." Suddenly, I was expected to know what other colors I wanted in flowers, what size blooms, how many accent colors, and WTF a hydrangea should and should not be paired with. What is this, ALGEBRA?!

I know less about flowers than I did before I started pinning pictures of the exact same bouquet of flowers over and over and over. Actually, that's a lie. I know ONE thing I didn't know before: It's apparently a combination of rocket science and brain surgery to make flowers bloom out of season. Hmm, go figure. And here I thought flowers could just grow on trees. And on the ground. And everywhere else, including the  aisle next to cheap rugs and convertible wardrobes.

Yeah, the whole thing just stinks.

Alabummer-FINAL EDITION!!!

Bonks. I'm the worst blogger ever, aren't I? I just up took a little break-skie with no warning or 'splanation? What kind of person DOES that!?

I'm sorry. I am. Geo made a quick trip into town this weekend and all my non-wedding priorities flew out the window. Blog? What's that? I hammered him with chore after chore in between actual chores and still felt like I hadn't done much when he flew back to 'bummer this afternoon.

But it was kind of a turning point, you guys. Today was the last time I would be tasked with bringing him to the airport only to send him back to the dirty South. It's the homestretch, y'all! He'll be back for good the next time he's back! Wooo! On the way to the airport, I casually mentioned to Geo how different this car trip was compared with the first time in 2011 when he packed up to leave. Spoiler: Much less crying. But there were other differences, too. Allow me to elaborate:

2011 Pharon: Steaming hot pile of mess. The air conditioning in Claire's spare room hadn't kicked up to full speed yet and between the sweating and crying, I was severely dehydrated.
2013 Pharon: Freezing cold pile of less of a mess. I've been shaking my fist and cursing Mother Nature for about 2 weeks now because of the deep freeze she's thrown us into indefinitely. It's frickin' cold. I wanted to go with Geo just for a little relief from the ice.

2011 Pharon: I was really convinced that if I could keep unpacking stuff from Geo's bags, he couldn't leave.
2013 Pharon: Geo kept telling me he was leaving stuff here because he doesn't need it for the next couple months. I explained that I didn't really have the space for it and tried to shove it back in his bag.

2011 Pharon: I cried for probably three days before Geo was supposed to pack up his car and leave.
2013 Pharon: Three days ago, I was complaining about how annoying it was that Geo and I had to share a car this weekend.

2011 Pharon: Before he left, Geo tried to stop my sobbing by engaging me in a game of Angry Birds as a distraction and a way to relax together, which kind of became a thing we'd do whenever he was getting ready to go back to 'bummer.
2013 Pharon: Geo had to pry the phone away from me because I was too busy playing Temple Run 2.

2011 Pharon: "Where is this our relationship going? What is going to happen next? Will we make it through this?"
2013 Pharon: "Wedding. Wedding. Wedding."

2011 Pharon: After Geo left the first time, I went crawling and sobbing back to my parents' house. I cried and cried. My mom and sister made me leave the house long enough to get a glass of wine and try to chillax. I cried some more in public and wore sunglasses indoors until 3 hours later when they could finally cheer me up.
2013 Pharon: After dropping Geo off, I went straight to the gym. (Not because I wanted to, BTW.) I cried, of course, because I always miss him, but part of me thinks the tears were more for the fact that I had to go to the gym.

The point is that a lot has changed since this post back in 2011. The biggest change, though? I wasn't so sure long-distance relationships could work back then. Today, I'm sure they can.