And That's a Good Thing

Sometimes I feel that if I'm not complaining about money, I'm thinking about shopping, or I'm wishing I were thinner.

But not today!

Today, I booked our trip to Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic. We're staying at an all-inclusive resort, and it will be our first real vacation (sans family) in six years.

We're super excited! Bonus? J will have to get a passport (I will have to renew mine), and that means that when we are able to travel to far-flung destinations, we will be good to go.

Yay!

I Broke My Nail....

trying these bad boys on for size.

FEROSH!

*Don't worry, it's not going to happen -I'm not going to buy them. :)

Like a Crack Whore...

in a crack den. That's what I'm worried it's going to be like when Lent is over (which by the way is in two weeks -yay!).

So today I went to the mall under the pretense of shopping for my soon to be sister-in-law. Her bridal shower is this Saturday, and I was hoping to find a sweet little lingerie honeymoon-ish set (a little gross when I think of her wearing it for my brother, but whatever). But of course, I also walked around and tried on a bunch of stuff. J is walking a wedding in two weeks, and I'm worried about what to wear to the rehearsal dinner and wedding.

Last weekend when I went to the mall with my cousin C, I'd seen this really pretty, sweet-heart neckline black lace short dress with a hot pink ribbon under the bust. I remember telling her that if it wasn't Lent and against the law, I would totally buy that dress. She just looked at me and matter-of-factly asked where would I wear that dress. And I didn't have an answer then, BUT I DO NOW! I would wear it to the wedding in two weeks! And because I didn't buy it THEN, they didn't have it in my size NOW! Can you believe the dress fit over my hips but would not close because of my back/bust? Yowza!

Now I know you're what you're thinking. It doesn't matter if they would've had it in my size because I couldn't have bought it anyway. Au contraire. J could've bought it for me. Maybe. He's kinda been a stickler for this Lent business. But its a moot point, no?

Anyhoodle, back to the crack den. I couldn't buy anything which almost gave me a panic attack. The whole drive home I kept thinking,

What the hell am I going to wear?

Luckily, when I got home, I pulled myself together and found outfits for both the rehearsal dinner and the wedding (um the dress is pretty close to zipping up, it's just that last 1/2 inch -but it's a size 0, go ahead, feel free to hate me a little, even though it obviously runs big).

And I am planning to make one concession. I need two necklaces and a pair of earrings to wear with my dresses. If I don't find anything I can use in my mom or sister's jewelry box, I'm giving myself permission to buy myself some accessories.


I am so going to buy myself some shoes when this is over.

These are from Dillards, and I'm totally feeling their retro vibe. Perfect for summer frocks.

I'm also feeling these wedges from Payless. They look much cuter on, and they'd add some spank to any outfit. Love 'em.



And the Gap? Will not stand a chance.


Pray for me, cookies.

The "Someday" File

One of my favorite bloggers wrote this post (read it, it's totally worth it, and there's no way I can summarize it), which inspired me to write my own.


Here's my list of Someday:

*Travel to Spain, Italy, France, Greece, and Hawaii. J and I are usually too broke to vacation anywhere except New York, where we depend on the generosity of his family (my in-laws should be able to list us a dependents, the week that we spend with them is all-inclusive), or Marco Island, which is only and hour and a half away and where my parents let us stay and feed us for free.

This summer, J and I are taking the plunge and using the money I make during my summer vacation to go on vacation. A real vacation at an all-inclusive resort in Santo Domingo. *Fingers crossed.

Anyhoodle, I hope that someday, we'll be able to travel a bit farther. Of course, by that someday, we would definitely be....

*Financially stable. Lord, I hope so. How awesome would it be not to live paycheck to paycheck? Or to be debt-free? Or, wait for it, to have money in a savings account? Someday.

*Learn to speak Italian. Why? I don't know -I just really want to. The local community college offers courses, and I'd like to take one this summer. I should be brushing up on my French (Voici la plume de ma tante -a gold star if you can tell me what book that's from), but I'm all about ciao, bella.

*Learn to surf. At the ghetto beach on Key Biscayne there are some guys who give surfing lessons. For dinero, of course. This summer I'm totally going to take a class or two.

Because I don't want to live my whole life waiting for someday. And you shouldn't either. :)

It's Not Much Better,

but I think I look more like Celine Dion.

What do you think?

We both have long, thin faces. And a little bubble on our nose. And a little bubble on our chin. *Deep sigh.

But I Don't WANNA Be Sarah Jessica Parker!

Ugh. I must think I'm cuter than I actually am. :( Boo. Hoo.

Let me explain. I work at a Christian school, and some of my coworkers are tres conservative. Emphasis on tres. Anyhoodle, one of my coworkers mentioned that she had watched Failure to Launch over the weekend. She's older, but super naive -which I find completely endearing and charming.

So she's telling me how she really enjoyed watching the movie.

Except.

Except, her husband doesn't really enjoy chick movies (Um, whose husband does? Is mine the only one who'd rather have a rectal exam?), and while she was watching the movie, he was busy puttering around the house. When he finally sat down to join her, the scene playing was one in which the characters were discussing S-E-X. And then! And then, she tells me that it never fails. Her husband always decides to sit with her during the questionable parts of a movie.

Cookies, this is a woman in her fifties. A woman of such high moral values that I cannot fathom telling her about my life before the age of 24 for fear I might inadvertently kill her with the tales of my shenanigans. These characters were just TALKING about sex. They weren't even doing it! And she was worried that her husband would think she was some sort of pervert! Child, please.

So about the title of my post. She tells me that the whole time she was watching the movie, she was thinking of me. Because SJP and I look so much alike. So much alike, apparently, that I should enter a celebrity look alike contest. Because I would totally win.

My coworker must've seen the look of horror on my face because then she said, "But she looks really pretty in that movie!"

Hmphf. *Crosses Arms.

And this makes me sad because I think SJP is pretty/ugly (you really never know, sometimes it's good and sometimes it's ugh), and therefore, using my infallible math logic, if SJP is pretty/ugly, and I look like SJP, then I am pretty/ugly.

So sad-face. So, so sad-face.

*To be fair, this is from a scene in the movie and she does look like a cutie in this picture.

Losing It

I'm not losing anything but my damn mind.

It's no secret that I'm obssessed with my weight. Sometimes I feel that my life and my blog posts are consumed with endless bitching about my weight.

Last year I was really skinny. But since then, I've steadily put on weight. Anywhere from 7 - 10 pounds depending on the fluctuations. Luckily, I'm pretty fit, and I've somewhat maintained my workout routine, which has definitely prevented me from going all Hulk-ish and busting out of my clothes (sorta, if you remember I had to buy some new clothes at the end of last summer because my skinny bottoms no longer fit).

It's no big mystery what has changed. J's work schedule makes it pretty difficult for us to eat dinner together. I spin on Mondays, he works late on Tuesdays, he's out of town on Wednesdays, I get lazy on Thursday, and the weekend starts on Friday. So I've been eating more processed foods (pasta bowls, anyone?) because they're easy and convenient, and I've been eating larger servings of fattier foods (nachos, pizza rolls, jalepeno poppers, icecream, Twix) on the weekends.

I still fit into my clothes. Barely. What I find incredibly ironic is that I feel like I look slightly better than ever (not counting my belly, of course).

But I can't help it! I want the scale to tell me my magic number! And it's not telling me what I want it to tell me.

So this week I'm starting detox. As soon as I finish writing this, I'm going to Publix and buying good foods. Turkey, chicken, salad, fruits, vegetables.


Jeez. I hope we start eating better and that we don't change our minds and decide to order pizza.

I Can't WAIT For It to Be....

OVER!

Hot damn, Lent is long. I'm worried that when it ends (which by the way, is longer than 40 days!), I'm totally going to binge. Here are some of the things I'm seriously loving.

I love this Gap outfit. I especially love the white jeans. Personally, white jeans pose a little bit of a problem. The biggest issue I have is that they can make the slimmest people look chunky. And since I have been on an eating binge for the last two weeks, I'm not sure they would be flattering on my new, semi-fuller frame (I keep telling myself I weigh more because of my muscles, but no).

I also love the fitted, short-sleeve khaki jacket. It's light enough for summer, and it would give any outfit a little structure and a whole lotta spank. It's just a totally fresh, summer look, and I'm digging it.

This dress is pretty much the blueprint for my summer wardrobe. Having tiny boobies, I'm not a huge fan of strapless dresses, but I've realized that strapless dresses that are smocked at the top (this one isn't, but oh well) are pretty flattering. I love the detailing at the bust. I wish Lent ended before April 4th, because it if did, I'd totally buy it and wear it to my future sister-in-law's bridal shower. Bummer.

The only good thing about Lent (okay, there are lots of good things about Lent) is that by the time I can shop again, these outfits might be on sale. *Fingers crossed.

These Steve Madden shoes will be a DEFINITE, DEFINITE addition to my wardrobe. For shizzle. I saw them on Friday when I went to the mall with my Cousin C. Love them!

*Deep sigh. Only three more weeks. Only three more weeks. Only three more weeks.

Restless

I am restless. I've got a whole lot of nothing going on. Absolutely nothing.

Here's a list of my molehill mountains. My sound and fury signifying absolutely nothing. Have I mentioned nothing? Make a note of it. It's kinda like my whole theme.

My school goes from Pre-K to 12th grade. The high school principal has approached me a couple of times about teaching high school English. Which I would love. In theory. I used to be all Robin Williams "O captain, my captain."



Everyone I've mentioned it to has been all like, "Smart Cookie, you would be great at it. You love to read, and you're so smart. Plus, you've got a wicked sense of humor." Obviously, I'm humbly paraphrasing.

Anyhoodle, there'd be a slight pay increase -$2000. Not enough to have me popping bottles of Cristal or buying myself oversize Gucci bags, but a little more money never hurt anyone. But cookies? The work would be overwhelming. Six DIFFERENT classes. Six DIFFERENT preps. LONGER hours. High school attitude and apathy.

So, um, no. A la soup nazi, NEXT!

Then, everyone and their mother is telling me about their workout routines and posting crap on facebook about their great runs and awesome gym sessions. Shut the frig up! You're giving me anxiety. An-friggin-xiety. Because guess what? I am exercising, too. And unlike you, I am not so excited about it. Because this cookie cannot lose weight. CAN NOT. Got that? I have not real idea why. I'm eating the same (okay, maybe like a pig), and I've been exercising four times a week, balls to the wall. I ran a total of 10 miles last Friday and Saturday. But the scale? Will. Not. Budge. Ugh. The humanity.

It's been three weeks, and I'm finally feeling it. I MISS SHOPPING! Okay, I said it. Jeez. Today I saw someone pulling shopping bags out of their trunk, and I was sad. Color me blue. Because I want to buy myself something other than lotion. But a deal's a deal. So I'm just going to put on my big girl panties and deal with it.

And finally, my cousin C, my aunt (her mother), and C's girlfriend are going to Spain in April. And I SO WANT TO GO! But J's walking a wedding, and I can't miss school. My mom mentioned it this afternoon. She'd love to go, too. Count my sister in, and it'd be an awesome all girls trip. But sadly, no. I asked my dad if we could go this summer, making sure it was clear he'd buy my ticket, but the tickets are way more expensive in the summer, and stupid me, I didn't count on J wanting to go, too. So that's a negative.

So you see? I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I'm Totally Not Gonna,

but if I could, I might....

I love this sweet, spring-y bra and panty set from Forever 21.

Now, y'all know that I can't buy myself this lovely set, BUT, but YOU could. And you could tell me all about it. And you could send me a picture!

Ooooh. It just got weird, no?

Maybe ixnay on the whole picture idea.

And this bag? Seriously? The most perfectest shade of purple/fuchsia. It's from Dillards, which, eh, is not my most favorite (read I never step foot in there) store. But I saw a picture of it in Shape or Self, I can't really remember, and I just lurved it. At $149, it's relatively reasonably priced. For anyone who's not me, duh.

Now, if it were not against Lent and if it were $30, I'd totally get it. Ha! So not going to happen, right? Wouldn't it be great if we could name our own price? Gosh, I swear, Forever 21 has totally ruined me for buying anything over $30.

Weekend Update

Because I'm lazy, and I've got a lot of random stuff to say and no chohesive way to tie it all together but to use a list.

1. Yesterday, I was supposed to go to the beach. I'd been looking forward to it all week. All WEEK, I tell you! But, no. No beach for me. Because guess who has two thumbs and got her period? That would be moi. And getting my period effectively put the kaibosh on my plans. Because homegirl cannot go to the beach with the vicious vomitting and diarrhea that accompanies the first day of her period. Bummer. I even had my bathing suit (cute red top and frilly floral bottoms) and the book I was going to read already planned. Can we say sad-face? Very sad-face.

I had been planning on getting all cute and tan because my naked girl bikini (the white bits of your body that are hidden by your bikini that become extremely visible when you're nice and toasty, and um, naked-hence the name) had faded, and living in Miami, there's no excuse for not having a glow 10 months out of the year. And, me? I figure, it's already March. Time to get my shake and bake going on, if you know what I mean.

2. Instead, I went to Target. I'm okay with the whole not shopping, but jeez. I am bored out of my mind. Target is the only place where I can go and not go bat-shit crazy jonesing for clothes, shoes, or accessories. Not that they don't have cute stuff. They totally do. But I can control myself there. Let's just say I have not been to the mall in 17 days because I do not trust myself there.

Somehow, I still managed to spend $50 (wtf?), and I swear to you, cookies, I bought a book, (2) rolls of toothpaste, (8) pasta bowls, (1) box of mushroom risotto, (1) four-pack of cadbury eggs (did you know those things have 150 calories/egg!!!!), some body lotion (my new favorite addiction -no new clothes, but velvety soft skin), (1) box of granola bars, Shape magazine, and? Hmmmm, I think that's it. Well. Now that I think about it, maybe $50 smackaroonies is not that bad.

UPDATE: And toothbrushes.

3. When I came home, I got to spend some time with J before he went to a bachelor party. I was going to miss him, really. But my bootleg movie connection had lent me The Reader and Slumdog Millionaire, so I was going to be able to have my own mini-Oscar night.

Let me just say that I'm not a huge movie watcher. Especially if I'm home because I get ridiculously easily distracted. First, I watched The Reader. Which. Was. Beautiful. Kinda Cinema Paradiso-ish, but with books. That's a really simplistic definition, but it is what it is. And I loved it. And Kate Winslet? Divine. Perfection. Amazing. Just a little caveat. You see her boobies (yay! so similar to my own!) and you see bushy penis.

4. Then I went to the gym. Yes, because I am an animal. K, maybe not so much of an animal. Maybe more of a competitive bitch. My cousin mentioned she ran 5 miles the other day and this compounded by the fact that she is on the uber successful Break-Up Diet and is the skinniest she's ever been made me freak out -FREAK OUT that I was going to be the fat one in my family. Which prompted her to ask if she used to be the fat one, which NO! she never was, but because I am again, super competitive (have I mentioned that already?), I want to be the skinniest. I want to be called Nicole Richie and bobblehead -which, I used to be called.

Anyhoodle, despite having my period, I high-tailed it to the gym, where I proceeded to run 5 miles in 50 minutes. So, yay for me! I can do it, too! Good thing because I would've been pissed if I wouldn't have been able to run that far. But to be fair, running on the treadmill and running outside are not the same thing, and I highly doubt I could run 5 miles outside. Unless. Unless someone offered to buy me a present. Then I'm sure I could do it. Gosh, I wish that would happen. Especially in light of all this Lent business.

5. Then I went home and watched Slumdog Millionaire. Another great movie. Totally Oscar worthy. But kinda sad, too. Kinda made me wonder why all Oscar nominated movies are such heartwarming downers. Aren't there any funny Oscar worthy movies? Ones with no bits of sadness? Maybe something to look into, Academy. I'm just saying.

6. Today I went to pool. It wasn't the beach, but I was still able to get my Vitamin D. Holler! Oh, and let me tell you. At one point, I looked into the pool (still too cold to get into), and I saw a bird. And, um, I don't know if y'all know this, but I'm terrified of birds. Straight-up terrified. I know that this is a totally learned behavior because my mom is terrified of birds. But even though it's a learned behavior, I really can't help it. Birds are just so flighty and unpredictable.

This little birdie was just floating in the pool, so I kinda figured it had to be injured. I didn't want to get involved, so I just kept reading my book. About half an hour later, I looked into the pool and didn't see it. But it was a lie. The bird was resting its head on the filter. Oh. My. Goodness. That's all I needed. For a bird to be sucked into the filter and die a gruesome death. Well. NOT ON MY WATCH.

I looked for the pool scooper upper (not it's real name, but I don't know what it's called), and I couldn't find it ANYWHERE. So I searched the entire backyard for something suitable to scoop up this bird. And, NOTHING. I tried to use a cushion, but unless I was planning on killing the bird by drowning it with the cushion (um, not so much), it wasn't really what I was going for.

Then I went into the garage and found the dustpan. Perfect. I scooped the bird up (it was definitely a little injured, or at the very least, shell-shocked), and I dumped it (gently!) on the ground, where it proceeded to scurry off into the bushes.

Whew! What a relief. Crisis averted.

UPDATE: I called my mom to tell her about the little bird, and she thanked me profusely, saying that if she would've found a bird floating in her pool she would've freaked the frig out. No doubt.

7. Then J and I went to Fuddruckers for lunch. Delicous, my cookies. Delicious.

So that's my weekend update! Thanks for reading, and have a pleasant tomorrow!

Rock On

My cousin C and her boyfriend broke up last weekend. At first, she was obviously less than thrilled. Duh. The break-up, although not entirely unexpected (the relationship had begun unraveling weeks earlier and had pushed her to a level of crazy logic that usually heralds the inevitable end of a relationship), was, for lack of a better word, dramatic. I'm talking soap opera, reality TV, Oh, no he di'nt!

I know, I know -quelle surprise, right? It's not like crazy isn't indelibly encoded in our DNA. But it went down, and it was not pretty.

My cousin C is all things bright and beautiful, but this break-up left her bereft. This break-up was no bueno. And, honestly? I'm just going to say it. This relationship and this boy had dulled her shine.

So last night when C invited me over, I was totally prepared for damage control. But after an hour of spinning (which is really a one hour wait to sign up for the class PLUS the one hour class), I seriously considered bailing. Our cousin K was already there, it was the middle of the week, I had to work in the morning, and I was really looking forward to a relaxing evening of watching America's Next Top Model with my dogs.

Oh, and washing my hair. I was looking a little, shall we say, meth-headish. But really. Could I even say no? Well, I could theoretically. But I didn't stand a chance. Especially in light of all this break-up business.

So I went home, showered (I did not wash my hair, thereby giving myself a gross Robert Palmer video lady slicked back ponytail), ate dinner, and hightailed it to C's apartment. Oh, did I forget to mention? She lives half an hour away. On the beach. Where parking is a bitch (I drove around for 45 minutes on Sunday looking for a spot).

The plan was to discuss the break-up, have a couple of glasses of wine, make brownies, and have a rock ceremony at the beach during the full moon.

WHOA!

WHAT?

A rock ceremony?

That's right. A rock ceremony Where all the rules are made up. By C. Or any of us. As we went along.


Um. Okay.

After our cousin M arrived, we collected our rocks (rose quartz is the only rock name that I remember -mine was a mood stability rock and looks like the one pictured except for the heart shape) and walked down to the beach. The night was really beautiful. The moon was right smack in front of C's apartment building.

K, M, and I were nervous about this whole rock business. I, especially, was less than enthused about my emotional stability rock. I was already relatively emotional stable (The LeDouchetards have not been up my ass for 10 days!). Wasn't there a win the lottery rock? Or a new job where I'm fulfilled and not emotionally terrorized rock? Or a let's get this cookie impregnated pronto preferably with twins rock?

But C told me the rock was just a symbol. I was to think of it as a reminder of what I wanted. And as we washed our rocks in the ocean, I thought about all the things I wanted.

And, jeez, cookies. It was a long list. Want, want, want,want, want, want, want.

Why could I never just be happy with what I had? I have a lot of good stuff. And that's what I really wanted. To be truly happy and content (this Lent thing must be working deeper than I thought).

This is what I was thinking as we sat on the sand, holding onto our rocks and programming them (it means exactly what it sounds like). So I started the ceremony. I stood in the middle of K, C, and M. And as I voiced what I wanted, they danced around me in circles, laughing and giggling, while sprinkling me with lavender (we later did a cleansing ceremony with sage, very similar to this one, where we got rid of all our doubt, disappointment, frustration, fear and anxiety).

I'm not going to lie. At first it felt as if the lunatics were running the asylum.

Then everyone else took a turn. We all wanted different things -contentment, love, success, health. Cookies, it was so odd! I had been so hesitant, but it was such a liberating and joyful experience. Can you understand that I just let it go? I let it all go! I was jumping around, telling God and the universe what I wanted. And because I physically did it, it meant so much more than just rationalizing it in my head! It was exhilarating.

After the ceremony, we jumped around some more -this time, just for fun. And we did cart-wheels on the sand. Until we were too tired, and we decided to go back upstairs.

It was fun, cookies. So, so fun! We might do it more often. I highly suggest you try it!

Oh, and my cousin C? She's got it together. No boy is going to steal her joy. No boy is going to dull her shine.

Rock on.

Confessions of a Rambling Mind

1. It's been 10 days! 10 DAYS! And I haven't bought any clothes, shoes, or accessories! Yay me! To be honest, it hasn't been too difficult. We've already identified my shopping triggers -sadness, anxiety, and worry (Super ironic -I feel the urge to shop when I'm hysterical about our finances. Crazy, right?). Not being able to buy myself stuff has just forced me to deal with my feelings instead of shopping them away. And like Martha Stewart is so fond of saying, "That's a good thing."

BONUS: I have so many clothes that I'm actually shopping in my closet. Yesterday, I wasn't really sure what to wear to the Britney Spears concert. And, voila! I found a totally, brand-spanking new studded tank-top! Perfect-o-mundo! I'm really looking forward to the next 30 days. Can you believe it?

2. I am on the verge of getting fat. Oh, yes my cookies. It has been a non-stop eating orgy since last Tuesday (cheese fries, nachos, pints of ice cream, fried green beans). And the funny thing about weight is that you can eat like a gordota for two weeks (that's a random number -don't quote me) and not really gain weight. But if you keep eating like that, on the third week, you are going to bust a button because that weight is going to creep up and surpise attack your ass before you can say, "Can I see the dessert menu, please?"

But tomorrow, I'm going to start eating better (because thankfully, I have still been exercising, which I'm sure has slowed the progression of fat).

3. J has a bachelor party on Saturday, and although I will miss him (he may or may not spend the night at the future groom's place because the hockey game/after party is pretty far away), I'm looking foward to a day for me. I'm thinking about going to the beach with a good book. And maybe a wine cooler or two. :)

4. Someone I love very much is going through a very painful break-up. I would just like to say in a public forum, that he was totally Jon Mayer to your Jennifer Anniston. Cute, boyish, and charming, but YOU'RE JENNIFER FRICKING ANNISTON!

5. Gosh. Lately I've been feeling like I could use a drink. I usually don't drink -tons of empty calories. But right now? I could totally drink a mai-tai. Totally.

6. Some of my favorite products:
*Oil of Olay Nourishing Night Cream. It's no secret. I've got awful skin. Two months ago, I started using this before bed. I'm always worried about pissing my skin off. Because then it retaliates and gets its revenge by giving me a monster pimple. But ever since I started using this, my skin is lots better. And let's be honest, I'm not getting any younger. Who knew?
*Johnson & Johnson Melt Away Stress Body Wash. I love this. I use it every night before bed. I'm not going to lie and say I always sleep like a baby. But I haven't had one night of insomnia. And even though one can argue that that can possibly be attributed to other factors, if you know me, and I think you do cookies, you know that if I'm not stressed about one thing, I'm stressed about another thing.

7. This is my new favorite quote:

I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!

-Dr. Seuss

Have a great week, cookies.

It's Britney, Bitch!

THIS WAS MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE PERFORMANCE.
I DIDN'T BRING MY CAMERA. BOO. FOR SOME REASON I THOUGHT CAMERAS WERE NOT ALLOWED AT THE ARENA. WHAT A DUMB COOKIE! SO THIS IS A CLIP FROM BRITNEY'S PERFORMANCE IN NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA.

Last night was the Britney Spears concert, and oh. my. word. Surreal, and fricking fantastic! Really? No words to describe it.

Like I had previously mentioned, J and I had plans to see the matinee perfomance of Les Mis, which was hauntingly beautiful and thoroughly enjoyable. The musical started at 2 p.m. The first act was an hour and 45 minutes, followed by a fifteen minute intermission, and the last act was an hour long. By the time J and I got into the car, it was 5:15.

My friend S, let's call her Snow White (for obvious reasons, not the least of which is her ability to attract odd, neurotic dwarf-like men)and her sister, let's call her Punky (yes, as in Brewster) had wanted to meet for drinks before the concert. By the time I got home and changed (I HAD to. No way was I going to a concert in a black summer dress with my cheetah print flats!) it was already 6.

We met at the Alehouse, where we had drinks, and I consumed a plate of fries with cheese, bacon bits, and ranch dressing. Delicious. Anyhoodle. we left the Alehouse at about 7, figuring that if we missed the Pussycat Dolls opening, no big.

Ugh. But we did NOT count on the crazy, ridiculous traffic that left us parked on the expressway exit for 45 minutes. The kind of traffic that caused us to kid (I think we were kidding) about getting out of the car and walking barefoot (in honor of Britney) to the concert.

By the time we maneuvered out of the traffic and found a parking space ($35, WTF?), it was already almost 9:00! In the elevator on the way to the arena we could hear the beginning of Piece of Me.

OH NO! WE WERE MISSING IT!

So we start hustling. Hustling. Running through the arena. We asked like five people where we had to go, and each time we went where we supposedly had to go, it was like, um, no. You are not supposed to be here. We missed her Circus intro, Piece of Me, and most of Radar. Can we say sad-face?

But after we got settled? A-ma-zing! You know, Britney gets a lot of shit for lip-synching. But personally? I DON'T CARE! I didn't go to the concert to see her singing (She did sing Everytime live, though. She sang it on an umbrella that floated over the stage). I went to the concert to see her perform. And, cookies? She did not disappoint.

Britney looked beautiful and fit. The dancing was unbelievable, the sets were amazing, the costumes were sexy and out of control. And she did some crazy stuff. Have you heard of the two guys who make a swing out of their bodies and come down from the top of the stage? Yeah, and then Britney sits on the swing as it's being pulled up into the air? Crazy. Totally.

I was so sad when it was over! I felt like it ended too soon. It was like, really? That's it? We're done?

But I had the best time! Snow White and Punky were a trip! And I couldn't have had more fun.

Britney's back, my cookies. The bitch is back!

Double-Booked

A couple of weeks ago, J and I went to Benihana. As we were walking to the restaurant, we passed the Actor's Playhouse, which was advertising their production of Les Miserables. I was immediately intrigued.

I love, love, love the theater. But because I'm so poor, I can't afford the ticket prices, and therefore, can never go (unless you count all the plays/musicals I've seen with my class, but I obviously don't). I mean, we're talking $150 bucks a pop at some places. But because this is a small theater, I was hopeful.

Later that night, I looked up the ticket prices online -and oh, happy day! The tickets were only $45 smackaroonies. We could've been sitting in the front row, but by the time I got J to double check that he was NOT working that Saturday, we were only able to get tickets in the sixteenth row.

Luckily, I booked the matinee performance of Les Mis. J has a hard time staying awake past 8 p.m. when it involves mobile activities, so I figured a matinee would be perfect. We could see the show and then have a late lunch. Leisurely, lovely, and totally J's speed.We've been talking about it FOR DAYS. Um, okay. Let's be honest. I have been talking about it for days.

Anyhoodle. I marked it on my calendar. Les Mis, March 7th.

Imagine my horror when I received an e-mail from Ticketmaster reminding me of the Britney Spears concert, Saturday, March 7th.

Oh, yes, cookies. THE EXACT SAME DAY. For some reason, I was sure the Britney Spears concert was March 14th, but duh. I was obviously wrong.

To be honest, I think J is secretly glad that the concert is the same day. That boy works some crazy hours, and he hasn't said it, but I definitely get the impression he's looking forward to some relaxing without me hovering around.

So. I like to call the day of March 7th -Classy Sassy. Because tomorrow's activities make me both. Holla at your girl.

Wishful Thinking

During lunch today, my coworkers were talking about their summer plans. R's husband is attending a sabbatical in Spain this summer, so in addition to residing in Spain for the entire summer, she will be visiting London and perhaps Scotland, where she lived for several years before moving back to the states.

She was telling S that S should consider going abroad for the summer and teaching in London. According to R, you can make mad bank as a substitute teacher, or as our cookies across the pond like to call it, as a "supply" teacher. Supply teachers can make between 125 - 145 GBP/day, which is roughly $175 -$200 U.S. Americano dollars/day. Not too shabby, eh?

Which got me to thinking. I'd just been waxing poetic the previous day about the summer I studied abroad in Paris. And when I checked my Facebook account later in the day, ironically enough, I received a friend request from my old R.A. in the A.U.P French House.

Anyhoodle. How much would I love to do this? The main goal would be to earn more money, which, let's face it -we need BIG time (I'd spent last night crying hysterically after we had our taxes done. Because really? Way to penalize me for 1. being married -yeah, you single bitches get way more money! 2. not having children -like I can fricking control that! 3. not buying my first home 4. and, not having purchased a car last year. Way to FRICKING go). I mean, potentially, you could stand to earn $3500 - $4000/month, minus the flight and meals. Because hopefully, you could find someone to stay with -kinda like The Holiday.

And, hello? The experience? Priceless.

However, unlike R, whose husband travels frequently for his ministry, or S, who is currently single, I've got J. J and three incredibly misbehaving dogs whose reputation preceeds them in terms of finding quality, non-vet caretakers.

Like with all things I really want to do, I was pretty much all gung-ho. I was going to tell J when I called him for one of our daily chats, but those chats are pretty much just touching base -never really heavy stuff, unless of course I have an emotional breakdown and I'm threatening to hurl myself off the ledge, which let's be honest, happens on occasion.

I waited for him to come home from work, and we talked about it on the way to dinner at Friday's. On a side note? Seriously heart the nachos and fried green beans at Friday's*. J was listening really attentively as I was talking, and he even told me that it sounded like a great idea.

Until, of course, I asked him if he would miss me. And he said,

"Um, you're not going. It's a great idea for someone else, though."

Bummer.

I'm still holding onto a tiny glimmer of hope.

*Friday's was evacuated just as we were finishing our meal because there was a fire in the restaurant next door. Thank goodness we had finished our meal, but I was pissed about having to leave before dessert. And we still had fried green beans that we had not consumed. But, not to fear. We had dessert at Coldstone. Yes, yes. Can we say Fatt Butt?

Fat Butt

Close your refrigerators! Lock your pantries! Smart Cookie is on the loose (like how I talk about myself in the third person? I actually have a student that started doing this last week and it is HILARIOUS! He's all like, C is doing his work! C likes this book! LMFAO) and is eating EVERYTHING in sight.

Cookies, I don't know what is wrong with me. Really? If the doctor wouldn't have told me that I have almost no chance of getting pregnant on my own, I would think I was pregnant. Yesterday, I had an almost compulsive urge for sugar. Hard-core, straight-on sugar. After frosting, straight from the jar, and a jaunt to Taco Bell, I was sure I had satisfied my craving. But no. No, no, no. Today, I have been a fat girl again, and I have been eating non-stop. Can we say pint of ice cream?

What could it be? I feel better than I have in weeks! There has been a detente in the battle between the LeDouchetards and myself. Holy sweet molasses! We have compromised our academic standards, our former policies and procedures, and a wee smidge of our dignity to remedy the situation. But really? My principal could tell me to salute Mrs. LeDouchetard while standing on one foot and singing "Womanizer" -AND I WOULD DO IT. I swear, cookies, for the first time SINCE OCTOBER, I am actually happy about my job. It's only been two days so I don't want to get too excited about it. Because I know that sometimes, when Smart Cookie is happy (I'm loving this!), that is when the shit is getting ready to hurl itself at the fan. But. BUT. I am willing to cherish this moment of bliss, no matter how short-lived it may be.

Anyhoodle, I am at a loss. I want to get to my happy weight (people have different opinions about this calculator -some think the suggested happy weights are too high, some people think the suggested weights are too low. But like Goldilocks, I think it's just right), but it seems to be impossible -especially in light of my recent eating habits.

To be honest, I know that compared to the average population, I would be considered thin. And I have been working on having a healthier body image. I love my arms and my legs. I just have a problem with the roll of jelly I've got jiggling in my belly. Any suggestions? The bitch of it all is that I know I can't spot tone my belly. But it's really the only part of my body that upsets me (at the moment). And before you get all judgemental, like, Why is she worried about showing her belly? Is this bitch going out in midriff baring tops? Doesn't she watch What Not to Wear? Please remember that I live in Miami, where beaches and bikinis are a thankful inevitablility.

But back to the eating? It's a vicious cycle. I eat like a pig. Weigh myself in the morning. Get discouraged. Question the wisdom of working out. Then eat like a pig again.

Ugh. I've got get a hold of myself.

2 + 2 = 5?

Um, no. It obviously does not.

Since J was sleeping last night when I posted my Britney Spears/concert/T-shirt/Lent post, I told him about my dilemma this morning. I was totally prepared for him to tell me to buy a t-shirt. I mean, this is a boy who never questions my shopping. BUT HE DIDN'T. He actually had the nerve to tell me that I couldn't do it because I had given it up for Lent. Hmmphf. This is the same boy who gave up ice cream for Lent last Wednesday, then changed his mind on Sunday because he had a craving for a chipburger (ice cream cookie sandwich). Mmmmmkay?

But he was right. That is why, after much careful, heartbreaking deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that Lent is a legally binding verbal contract between myself and God, and as such, cannot be broken. Bummer. But after the ban, I'm totally ordering a concert tee online.

Houston, We Have a Problem

Oh. My. Word. Let me give you the 411.

K. *Deep breath. It's no secret that I gave up shopping for Lent. It's only been four days, and I'm totally doing it. *Looks away while you snort in disbelief. On Saturday, I had to go to the

J.Crew store to return two dresses. I had ordered the chartreuse dress in a size 4 (K, before you give me grief about being a size 4, please realize that J.Crew sizes run LARGE. There is no way that I am a size 2. NO WAY!) and the fresh mint dress in a size 2 online.

RIGHT SIZE! WRONG COLOR! BOO! HISS!

The size 4 fit, but was a bit big in the bust area. Quel surprise, no? Since even seven year olds have questioned the size of my cups. "Mrs. Smart Cookie, why are your breasts so small?" The size 2 fit perfectly, but it was in the wrong color. So I ordered the size 2 in the chartreuse.

However, that left me with two VERY expensive dresses. So get this. I went to the mall. Returned the dresses. AND LEFT WITHOUT BUYING ANYTHING. Can I get a what, what? Because let's be honest. Here are some things I would've bought if I could've. With no hesitation whatsoever.

A BATHING SUIT. I KNOW, I KNOW. I NEED ANOTHER BATHING SUIT LIKE I NEED A HOLE IN THE HEAD.

And this beautiful necklace in a really pretty coral color. So I saved myself at least $120 smackaroonies.

THEN, I went to Target, where I proceeded to lose my beautiful bracelet, and where I bought two books (totally within the terms of the agreement), some pasta bowls, granola bars, moisturizer, sunscreen, dog toys, and this:

THE RABBIT EARS. NOT THE DOG. FORGIVE THE DISGUSTINGLY DIRTY WHITE TILE.

J says that it's cheating. But last time I checked, I was not a dog, and therefore, buying stuff for them, is okay.

Anyhoodle, I've been so good, right? I mean, I was in the belly of the beast, AND I DID NOT CAVE!

Awkward segueway.

So today I was thinking about the Britney Spears concert this Saturday. Yes, my cookies! I AM GOING! And I was thinking about how much fun I was going to have, and how I totally had to get a concert t-shirt. *GASP!

Oh no! Cookies, do you see my concern? Can you put two and two together? I CANNOT BUY THE T-SHIRT UNDER THE TERMS OF LENT! I am devastated. Do you think, maybe, that since it is a one-off, a one time, clearly extenuating circumstance that I could get a t-shirt?

For the love of all that's good and holy, let me know.