Why I Love My Boots

I'm pretty sure only Jen will appreciate this.

These are my new boots:
I not-so-secretly coveted these boots because a part of me wishes I could wear a riding habit. Sigh, how dashing!!

Old Age

You know you're getting old when the radio station has a themed weekend playing music from your formative decade. Thanks, 90s weekend on Alice radio.

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On a completely unrelated note, how would you deal with this situation? I walked into the bathroom at work on Friday, and some woman in a stall asked, "Is that you?"

Well...yes, it is me. I'm pretty sure I am me. But I'm also not the "you" she was talking about.

I figured she didn't want to argue semantics or better phrasing, so I just replied, "No."

Today's Likes & Dislikes

Likes - fog and wide collars
Dislikes - bad hair days

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I've discovered that I find fog to be lovely. It softens everything and adds a bit of mystery to everyday trees and streets, even when I'm just driving in to work.

I could probably make some analogy here between fog on the roads and beer goggles in clubs, but I'll let you extrapolate.

My new checkered not-quite-hoodie has an awesome wide collar and snap buttons that march down a bit left of the middle instead of a zipper. Asymmetry is interesting but not always functional, since this means I have a nice regular-sized pocket on the right and a gimpy excuse for a pocket that barely fits my fingers on the left. Oh well, sacrifices made for fashion.

Scruffylooking says bad hair days have a direct correlation with eating nachos past 11 pm. Regretfully, I have to admit that he has a point. But damn, those were good nachos!

Chris thinks I should keep this up - we'll see if it sticks.

Realization

I do not want to be one of your lessons learned; I want to be your goal.

Lesson learned

In my sporadic quest to improve myself and my health, I recently purchased liquid egg whites from my second favorite store in the world, Trader Joe's. (I'm sorry, TJ, but until you start selling ridiculously cheap and cute clothing too, you'll always be the Jan to Target's Marcia.)

On my drive home from work today, I imagined throwing together the leftover ingredients from my pizza fritta experiment and making a lovely omelet of 4 cheeses, prosciutto, tomatoes, basil, red pepper flakes, garlic, and onions. How delicious! How fun! And how healthy it will be when I replace the whole cholesterol-laden eggs with liquid egg whites! And when I started preparing all the ingredients in my kitchen, I did it with a carefree, anticipatory smile. :)!!

Except I had to downgrade my aspirations from omelet to scramble when I realized I had a lot of ingredients and a very small skillet. Sure! Still happy!

I unscrewed the carton of liquid eggs (my instincts screaming about how unnatural this was), poured some in, and started scrambling. Ooh, look at the whites coalescing and cooking! Scramble, scramble...look at them becoming pink from the tomato juices! Look at them...curdling?

Result:

A delicious Italian-flavored mess that looks reminiscent of vomit.

Maybe I need to practice cooking more with egg whites. Perhaps. Possibly. I just ate it with my eyes closed.

And now we know, children: whites are not always better. I need the yellows too. Who knew this post would become so profound and racist?

Sad. The end.

Hello, 2007.

2007. That's a decent number. Let's make it a great year :)

Lessons I learned from the holidays, in brief
Housewarming: I am a loser. I blame Jeff, the Supreme Drinking Instigator. All hail. For everyone who came to my party, only to see me passed out, I apologize and seriously owe you conscious facetime. But come on, you had fun - how can you not have fun when there was an inflatable doll around and you could take photos with my prone body? Wow, that sounded bad.

Christmas Eve dinner: Electronic meat thermometers make me geeky-happy. I made my prime rib perfectly medium-rare. However, I forgot that most of my relatives are Very Chinese and won't eat any meat that's not brown and brick-like. "The prime rib isn't cooked yet! Look at all that blood!" No, look at all that DELICIOUSNESS! Sigh.

Gifts: Who will buy you USB-heated gloves for Christmas? Christina will! I also have a digital camera now (finally!), thanks to Amanda. Does this mean more photos on this blog? Possibly! And once I get a memory card, I will strive to transform myself into That Annoying Friend Who's Always Snapping Photos. This may be difficult, as I will have to overcome years and years of being That Annoying Friend Who's Always Stealing Photos.

New Year's Eve: If you're going to an overcrowded Asian NYE party, make sure you're dressed slightly slutty to fit in. Don't worry, I fit in so well, at least four other girls were wearing the exact same dress. But my shoes were cuter! Also, Christina, a mall, and one hour's time can be very dangerous. Sigh, damn you again, BCBG.

Why Amanda is not on Madison Avenue: In regards to the World's Softest Socks, Amanda exclaimed, "It feels like you're walking on jelly!" Um...I think the slogan is, "Like walking on clouds."

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I added a little mp3 player to my sidebar. Don't worry, it doesn't start automatically and force you to listen to songs when you open a webpage with incredibly blinding backgrounds that combine to slow your browser and computer and make you hate life. Yes, I'm talking to you, MySpace. And no, I'm not on MySpace, so don't call me a hypocrite. Yay for Facebook! Whoops, tangent.

Anyway, Jen put up a myflashfetish player on her blog, which I found very similar to the playlist in my head, so I had to go steal it. Love you, Jen! Her playlist also reminded me of "Kill" by Jimmy Eat World - and since it's me, you know the lyrics go up right...about...now.

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"Kill" -Jimmy Eat World

Well, you're just across the street
Looks a mile to my feet
I want to go to you
Funny how I'm nervous still
I've always been the easy kill
I guess I always will

Could it be that everything goes 'round by chance
Or only one way that it was always meant to be?
You kill me, you always know the perfect thing to say
I know what I should do, but I just can't walk away

I can picture your face well
From the bar in my hotel
I wish I'd go to you
I pick up, put down the phone
Like your favorite Heatmiser song goes
It's just like being alone

Oh god, please don't tell me this has been in vain
I need answers for what all the waiting I've done means
You kill me, you've got some nerve, but can't face your mistakes
I know what I should do, but I just can't turn away

So go on, love
Leave while there's still hope for escape
Got to take what you can these days
There's so much ahead
And so much regret
I know what you want to say
I know it, but can't help feeling differently
I loved you, and I should have said it
But tell me, just what has it ever meant?

I can't help it, baby, this is who I am
I'm sorry, but I can't just go turn off how I feel
You kill me, you build me up, but just to watch me break
I know what I should do, but I just can't walk away