...Julia, Lidia, Chris, Victor, Bob, and David.
I miss them all so much. It's been nearly a month since I've gone from couch-dweller to cubiclite, and it's been rough. I miss watching each of them while sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in my hands on a sun-drenched morning. Late morning. Probably closer to noon.
Going to sleep is the toughest part. I should be sleeping now, actually. But I just can't shake this night owl business I have going on. In high school I had a really jacked up schedule: got home from school at 4pm or 5pm, slept until 2am, woke up to do homework, shower, eat, then back to school by 7am. I realized then that my favorite time of day is 4am, when no one else is awake and everything is still.
Anyway, I need to cut this short because I really need to get to bed. Some major kudos to the person who can list the last names of my beloved public broadcasting favorites. Speaking of which, the House cut funding for public broadcasting. That is a damn shame--truly. Luckily a very small portion of funding is from the government. Nonetheless, what funding they do and should continue to receive can still be advocated for through the Senate. Please visit www.170millionamericans.org and write your Senator.
Goodnight.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
I am mad at Anthropologie.
Anytime someone asks, I tell them "I just moved to San Francisco!" But as my little blog here confirms, I've been here a little longer than my self-purported "officially since June 1" date. Apparently I've been here since April, which makes my upcoming April 1 move-in date to my fabulous new apartment very special. It's fabulous. The closet has a window in it. A window.
Let's revisit what I decided my future would hold a year ago: a job, an apartment, a well-stocked kitchen, dog, and a Vespa. My, my, aren't we ambitious? It took me a whole year to put some roots down in San Francisco, and I am appreciative and grateful for how things are coming together. I signed myself up for a Pacific Heights studio, 0.3 miles from Meena, 0.5 miles from Chez Knichards (my current house where I have been playing permanent houseguest), 1.1 miles from Diana, 11.1 miles from my sister, and 2913 miles from Catherine. Sorry, Catherine.
What's with the title, right? Well, in all the excitement over a potential new apartment, I went Type A and researched all of the furniture I wanted for my new pad. Julia recently told me that I'm Type A. "What? Me? No way.. I am so not Type A." After I looked at my spreadsheet, separated by room type, and including such columns as price per unit, shipping, link, etc., I bowed my head in silence to acknowledge that, indeed, I have Type A qualities.
After three in-the-zone days of online research and sifting through my go-to retailers, I came up with a decent list of furniture. If you saw it, you'd be impressed and hire me to organize your life. Just saying. After staring at my screen with dry contacts, I stumbled across the Anthropologie site. I never shop here--mostly because I can't afford a bar of soap from here. But apparently they've done their market research on me and already sells everything I want. And/or they should hire me as a buyer because I guess their customers just want everything I want.
Exhibits:
Let's revisit what I decided my future would hold a year ago: a job, an apartment, a well-stocked kitchen, dog, and a Vespa. My, my, aren't we ambitious? It took me a whole year to put some roots down in San Francisco, and I am appreciative and grateful for how things are coming together. I signed myself up for a Pacific Heights studio, 0.3 miles from Meena, 0.5 miles from Chez Knichards (my current house where I have been playing permanent houseguest), 1.1 miles from Diana, 11.1 miles from my sister, and 2913 miles from Catherine. Sorry, Catherine.
What's with the title, right? Well, in all the excitement over a potential new apartment, I went Type A and researched all of the furniture I wanted for my new pad. Julia recently told me that I'm Type A. "What? Me? No way.. I am so not Type A." After I looked at my spreadsheet, separated by room type, and including such columns as price per unit, shipping, link, etc., I bowed my head in silence to acknowledge that, indeed, I have Type A qualities.
After three in-the-zone days of online research and sifting through my go-to retailers, I came up with a decent list of furniture. If you saw it, you'd be impressed and hire me to organize your life. Just saying. After staring at my screen with dry contacts, I stumbled across the Anthropologie site. I never shop here--mostly because I can't afford a bar of soap from here. But apparently they've done their market research on me and already sells everything I want. And/or they should hire me as a buyer because I guess their customers just want everything I want.
Exhibits:
Overstock, Manchester Club Chair, $308 Anthropologie, Lunet Chair, $1698
Pottery Barn, Adrienne Bed, $549 Anthropologie, Marigold Bed, $1298
HDC, Holbrook End Table, $249 Anthropologie, Decker End Table, $248
HDC, Holbrook Console Table, $379 Anthropologie, Decker Console Table, $398
HDC, Holbrook Coffee Table, $369 Anthropologie, Open House Coffee Table, $1,198
Target, Glass Accent Table, $80 Target, Mirrored Console Table, $210 Anthropologie, Mirrored Dresser, $1298
Craigslist, Reclaimed Wood Bookshelf, $650 Anthropologie, Decker Bookshelf, $698
What the HEEZY, right? Bah, I really dislike that I am exactly like everyone else and that the individually selected pieces of furniture I thought were eclectic and/or interesting are being sold in one store. No bueno.
Put-Together Nora
She's here every once in awhile. Not as often as we would like, but enough. Put-Together Nora will manage to get her hair did and face on (meaning she washed it and smudged eyeliner on her face). This also means successfully navigating the daily leggings-for-pants-struggle; strategy on that is win the war, not the battle.
This is what her world would look like: Welcome to Nora Yuree.
This is what her world would look like: Welcome to Nora Yuree.
Friday, February 25, 2011
I shop too much. But I'm good at it.
The last time I shopped at a department store or in legit retail was in high school. Except for the few months that I worked at Nordstrom, when I went ape shit and spent $1600 in two months. My underwear drawer overfloweth, but that $20 Nordstrom Note was so not worth it.
I don't know why I thought I was so fabulous, buying full retail price. Oy, I cringe at the thought. How young and naive I was. When I got to college I discovered the joy of discount shopping. It's pretty damn fun, let me tell you. Excluding a few pieces, 80% of my wardrobe consists of Marshalls and consignment finds. You think my man stalking skills are good? My clothes shopping skills are fine-tuned. When I step into a Marshalls, my eyes can't focus on one thing. They're scanning the entire visual field like the Terminator.
Shopping with friends is great--Meena and I have the "interesting or ugly?" test. But I do like to go alone, too: headphones in, latte in hand, no time constraints, ready to roam the aisles and zero in on that clearance section. Sometimes I circle back two, three times to make sure I haven't missed a juicy nugget.
My go-to's in order of most to least janky:
All told, there are certain items you should make sure to invest in.
I don't know why I thought I was so fabulous, buying full retail price. Oy, I cringe at the thought. How young and naive I was. When I got to college I discovered the joy of discount shopping. It's pretty damn fun, let me tell you. Excluding a few pieces, 80% of my wardrobe consists of Marshalls and consignment finds. You think my man stalking skills are good? My clothes shopping skills are fine-tuned. When I step into a Marshalls, my eyes can't focus on one thing. They're scanning the entire visual field like the Terminator.
Shopping with friends is great--Meena and I have the "interesting or ugly?" test. But I do like to go alone, too: headphones in, latte in hand, no time constraints, ready to roam the aisles and zero in on that clearance section. Sometimes I circle back two, three times to make sure I haven't missed a juicy nugget.
My go-to's in order of most to least janky:
- Goodwill: Random ass crap. I just picked up a lantern there, which I happily donated to Chez Knichards. FYI, if you don't know what Goodwill is, I don't know if we can be friends. It's hard for me to walk past one without stopping in and just looking.
- Ross: As Julia said, you better bring your A game. Watch out for elbows and warning glances from your similarly-sized discount shoppers. I've gotten into semi-shove matches and angry grunting exchanges with many 5'1" little heifers out there who don't budge when you try to move past them in the aisle. I said "excuse me." Move over, woman.
- Target: Tarjay. How many times have you gone into one, saying "I need laundry detergent," and then walk out with 3 pairs of leggings, a new side table, some Hot Pockets, and a blender?
- Marshalls: Ah, le Marsh. With each new city I move to, I feel at home when I find one. I get everything here from $5 dresses to shampoo. And I love the shoe section because who else wears a size 5.5?
- Filene's Basement: I haven't been to one in a long time because it was my DC staple. That's where I picked up Nora's First Prada.
- TJMaxx: A higher price point, but better quality designers. Just make sure the stainage and tearing are in check before you buy. If there is, however, an easy fix on something, I'll ask for a discount and buy it anyway. Ain't no shame, homie.
- Nordstrom Rack: I comb that lingerie section like it (was) my job. Like the parent company, the Rack is run pretty well. And the customer service is always great.
All told, there are certain items you should make sure to invest in.
- Shoes and Bags: No mas with the pleather. And be kind to your shoes, for they will be kind unto you.
- Wools: Trust me that ish is not going to soften up in the wash, no matter how much Downy you pour into the machine. Once you upgrade to nice wool (merino, cashmere, mohair, angora, etc), anything less will feel like a scouring pad.
- Suits and Dress shirts: I didn't understand this until I got my hands on a Theory blazer--big difference. For your shirts, the dry cleaner is your friend unless you plan to starch and iron.
- Jeans: I don't actually wear pants. I hate them. But the one pair of jeans that I do wear are these Japanese jeans that suck in the right areas. When you find a pair that makes you look better than you are in real life, pick up a few.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
94%
I was hesitant to write about dating again because I don't want to come across as desperate and listening to Adele on repeat. But I like Adele.
Over the weekend, Meena and I, while feasting on our snackstravaganza (olive bread, pesto, three kinds of cheese, mushroom ravioli, mini tacos--we went crazy at Trader Joe's), discussed how online dating is apparently very common in SF and how openly people discuss their online dating lives. We wondered if we'd ever join a site, but more importantly, why is The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills so damn entertaining? I've watched the scene where Kyle wilds out on Kim at least 7 times, and my jaw still drops every time.
As I was going to sleep, and because decisions are best made when you're alone in bed and bored, I started looking at dating sites and signed up for my first account. After 40 minutes of answering questions, I was provided with some matches. One in particular stuck out to me because aside from being a 94% match, he had a great smile. Unfortunately, the 29-with-a-comb-over look trampled any possibility of mojo. Hey, I have nothing against balding men. But as a word of advice, gentlemen: if it's clearly falling out, go Jason Statham on it, not Donald Trump. So much better, I promise.
The next morning I went to the farmer's market with a friend, and whom else do I see, but Comb Over himself. I freaked out and hid behind a giant wheel of cheese. Then I remembered, "you dumbass, he doesn't know you were lurking on his profile," so I apologized to the cheese guy for hovering all up on his business, and got myself together.
This is why I deleted my account today. I live in a city because I relish the anonymity of being a no-one in a crowd. Sometimes I walk with my hat and sunglasses on while listening to music, knowing that I'm cut off from everything from the bubble I created around myself. I can't have some stranger knowing that I'm scared of pigeons and that one day I want to move to Africa to lead a development project. That kind of stuff you reveal over a lifetime of knowing someone (or in a blog read by your friends..). What is there left to talk about when a computer program tells you what you already have in common with someone else?
I'm also not ready to give up on the possibility of meeting a person and having that initial connection. True chemistry is hard to come by, but knowing that it's out there is the fun and challenge of dating, n'est-ce pas? I'm not opposed to online dating. I'm just not ready to put myself out there. And when I end up marrying my 94% match I'll look back at this post, shake my head and wonder why I thought I knew so much when, really, I know nothing.
Over the weekend, Meena and I, while feasting on our snackstravaganza (olive bread, pesto, three kinds of cheese, mushroom ravioli, mini tacos--we went crazy at Trader Joe's), discussed how online dating is apparently very common in SF and how openly people discuss their online dating lives. We wondered if we'd ever join a site, but more importantly, why is The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills so damn entertaining? I've watched the scene where Kyle wilds out on Kim at least 7 times, and my jaw still drops every time.
As I was going to sleep, and because decisions are best made when you're alone in bed and bored, I started looking at dating sites and signed up for my first account. After 40 minutes of answering questions, I was provided with some matches. One in particular stuck out to me because aside from being a 94% match, he had a great smile. Unfortunately, the 29-with-a-comb-over look trampled any possibility of mojo. Hey, I have nothing against balding men. But as a word of advice, gentlemen: if it's clearly falling out, go Jason Statham on it, not Donald Trump. So much better, I promise.
The next morning I went to the farmer's market with a friend, and whom else do I see, but Comb Over himself. I freaked out and hid behind a giant wheel of cheese. Then I remembered, "you dumbass, he doesn't know you were lurking on his profile," so I apologized to the cheese guy for hovering all up on his business, and got myself together.
This is why I deleted my account today. I live in a city because I relish the anonymity of being a no-one in a crowd. Sometimes I walk with my hat and sunglasses on while listening to music, knowing that I'm cut off from everything from the bubble I created around myself. I can't have some stranger knowing that I'm scared of pigeons and that one day I want to move to Africa to lead a development project. That kind of stuff you reveal over a lifetime of knowing someone (or in a blog read by your friends..). What is there left to talk about when a computer program tells you what you already have in common with someone else?
I'm also not ready to give up on the possibility of meeting a person and having that initial connection. True chemistry is hard to come by, but knowing that it's out there is the fun and challenge of dating, n'est-ce pas? I'm not opposed to online dating. I'm just not ready to put myself out there. And when I end up marrying my 94% match I'll look back at this post, shake my head and wonder why I thought I knew so much when, really, I know nothing.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
(Hayes) Valley of the Twenty-Something Guys
I really hate to say it. I promise. But life is pretty much an episode of Sex and the City right now. I depend on my friends for everything. I can't dress myself anymore without consulting my roommate. I don't make love or life decisions without considerable input from the Council (of Heifers). I have too many shoes, way too many bills, and I'm perched on my bed, writing my estrogen-soaked thoughts on my Mac. You know that thing Carrie does as she's thinking, where she licks the corner of her mouth as she looks off into the distance? Doing it right now.
There's an SATC episode* where Carrie and Samantha play in the 20-something sandbox. Whatthehell I feel like I'm stuck in a Twilight Zone SATC. I don't know what it is, but if you want to feel like a cougar, move to San Francisco. Since living here, I've only met guys who are my age or younger than me. (With the exception of one 43-year old man. Er. No, thank you.) And I'm not alone. Within approximately four hours of moving here, Meena snatched herself a younger man. This "child prodigy" is a quite a catch--I expect nothing less from our lovely Filipindian. But we can't help but wonder what happened to all the 28 to 32-year olds? The must-have/must-be list is getting longer by each dating experience, and this kiddie pool of men is not exactly what I had in mind. But you work with what you've got, right? Meena and I have been making the most of our made-for-TV circumstances. I will say this: it's kind of nice dating younger guys because they haven't quite had the chance to become full-blown douchebags yet. That's always a plus.
Nonetheless, if you are out there, 28-yo Sufjan Stevens or Joshua Radin look-a-like (or actual..), holler. I have some friends who would be interested in meeting you.
*Not to be forgotten: Diana's in this episode too ;)
There's an SATC episode* where Carrie and Samantha play in the 20-something sandbox. Whatthehell I feel like I'm stuck in a Twilight Zone SATC. I don't know what it is, but if you want to feel like a cougar, move to San Francisco. Since living here, I've only met guys who are my age or younger than me. (With the exception of one 43-year old man. Er. No, thank you.) And I'm not alone. Within approximately four hours of moving here, Meena snatched herself a younger man. This "child prodigy" is a quite a catch--I expect nothing less from our lovely Filipindian. But we can't help but wonder what happened to all the 28 to 32-year olds? The must-have/must-be list is getting longer by each dating experience, and this kiddie pool of men is not exactly what I had in mind. But you work with what you've got, right? Meena and I have been making the most of our made-for-TV circumstances. I will say this: it's kind of nice dating younger guys because they haven't quite had the chance to become full-blown douchebags yet. That's always a plus.Nonetheless, if you are out there, 28-yo Sufjan Stevens or Joshua Radin look-a-like (or actual..), holler. I have some friends who would be interested in meeting you.
*Not to be forgotten: Diana's in this episode too ;)
Sunday, January 23, 2011
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