I Am Back; Ok, So Get This

Crazy week! I got sick, dumped, stranded, verbally abused, and robbed. Yes, robbed. Just like the poor girl in the subway, someone jacked me for my iPod. It's so ridic, but I cried because it's the first thing XnFX ever gave me. Someone broke into my mom's car while we were at church on Good Friday and stole it, my mom's brand new iPhone, and her purse, which included her business credit cards, debit cards, social security card, etc. However, I have taken it as a sign that God doesn't want me to talk to XnFX anymore. Heh, then he'll be just X. Anyway, I have decided enough with the pity posts. I gotta tell you if crazy stuff happens, but I will try to avoid posts like the one below. I am gonna keep it up and not delete it to remind myself of how I never want to act over a guy again. Well anyway, I am back like I said. Jet lag is kicking in, so Happy Easter to the celebrators. Until tomorrow!

No Air and Bleeding Love

Corny, but guys I am something like nursing a broken heart right now. Everytime I start to post I feel so...sad and uninspired. Just give me a few days. I am the worst blogger in the world right now, but on the bright side there is no hiatus or anything. I WILL be back soon. Spring break is half over so expect me back by or before Sunday. That is a promise. My ex-boyfriend who was never really an ex, affectionately (and lamely) called XnFX (ex in effect :-/) is not sure about us, with the long distance and all, although I graduate in a few months. I feel sick about it, but I will be ok eventually. He, unfortunately, is one of my best friends and we would talk everyday. Now I have to get used to not hearing from him or seeing him...ok, rambling. But, these are my circumstances and they seem legit. I will be back Sunday at the latest, (slightly) happier and with new posts. Please don't give up on me, guys. This blog is important to me. Thanks for reading, too.

Ok, So Get This...Reporting Live From the Hilton Hotel

I am so very glad I didn't make the promise to come back. I would have disappointed, surely! Yesterday was both hectic and confusing. First off, did anyone see how that tornado ripped through downtown Atlanta while the Mississippi State (go Bulldogs!) were whipping the Alabama Crimson Tide, totally disrupting the SEC tourney Friday? Even non-basketball fans may have heard about it, because the tornado ripped through a couple of other ATL landmarks.

What does that have to do with me writing, you ask? Well, for me to achieve the cheapest possible last-minute ticket purchase, I had to make a stop in Charlotte, NC. That's a big deal for me because I hate flying, and it makes me nervous. Generally, it takes a nice cocktail to mellow me out before the flight, but since I don't want to travel down Alcoholic Road, I try to be sleepy when I get on the plane so that I am so tired I can't even focus on being nervous. But I digress (as usual).

At the airport, I flew US Airways. Another sidenote: I try to avoid flying with both them and Southwest, but unfortunately they usually have the cheapest tickets. First off, US Airways seems to confuse departure time with boarding time. I was supposed to leave at 3:15, but the plane wasn't even empty until then. However, we didn't board until about 3:50, because they couldn't find the crew. Let me repeat that. They. Could NOT. FIND. The crew. For the plane. Anyway we end up boarding and sitting on the runway/tarmac/whatever for over an hour because the Charlotte Airport didn't think it was safe for us to fly in; they were freaking out about residual weather problems causing tornadoes like in Atlanta. I wasn't mad that they were concerned for our safety. I was very grateful, in fact. However, did they have to keep us TRAPPED in that tiny metal tube? I was sitting at the very back of the plane in the window seat and was feeling very constricted. I have to tell you, I don't do well in close spaces for extended periods of time (not flying coach, anyway). By the time we took off I was ready to strangle the woman next to me to keep her from sniffling. She sniffled for an hour. An hour! We were at the back of the grounded plane, not 5 feet from the bathroom. Just go to the bathroom! Arrggg!

But then Charlotte said the storm front passed and we were cleared for takeoff. After a generally bumpy ride, I entered the Charlotte airport, supposedly an hour before my next flight. I check the schedule and it has been delayed until about 9:30 pm! Ick. Oh well, I take a positive outlook and just thank goodness that I can grab a bite to eat at a restaurant or whatever. I finished eating, but it was just 8 pm. I thought about just lounging in the restaurant and watching Without a Trace (my Cold Case substitute) but something told me to check on my flight. Lucky that I did, for it had been pushed up to 8:30, and I was at the other side of the huuuuuuugge airport! I made a mad dash for the gate, got there, and a flight to Nashville or Newport News or something was there instead. I checked the gate again, and they had changed it. I ran to the gate, expecting to board right away, but nothing doing. The entire Charlotte airport was in chaos. Everywhere I went people were running, trying to catch flights. I sat there until 8:45 receiving no information from the service people and listening to an Adam Levine look-alike playing John Mayer songs on his guitar. Then our flight info screen changed to info on a flight to Augusta, GA! That was the final straw and I went to find out what happened.

You guys know I can make a short story long, and this is already long enough, so I will get to the nitty gritty as best I can. The flight was canceled, then it wasn't, and then it was again. They started putting us on new flights, but as it's Jxn, MS, there aren't that many, so they filled up fast. I would have had to leave Charlotte on Monday, or go to a nearby city like Birmingham, Al or Memphis, TN to get home. But then, (luck o' the Irish! ha ha) a reservation opened up and now I am flying out this afternoon. They gave us (gorgeous) hotel rooms and here I am. I just pray nothing else goes wrong. Stay tuned!

I'm Sorry!

I lied about being back here yesterday...my pants are so on fire right now. I have just been getting so caught up with trying to get stuff done for school in time for spring break (which started an hour ago). I know I am just going to make a butt-load of excuses, so I won't even bore you with that. Despite my lack of dedication, I just want to say how pleased I am to see that people pop in here from time to time. Thanks a bunch! :-)

I was going to write about how much I dislike this certain singer, but it seemed really petty. Even though this is my blog, and I can say what I want, I don't want to alienate any of her fans that may come here. Besides, what good would that negative energy do for me, right? Ok, no more bad thoughts, no matter how much she irks me (and she does).

Anyway. I am going to be doing all my traveling home tomorrow. I have all of my outfits ready to go. Since it is warm at home (mid-70s, methinks) I am excited to wear my spring clothes! I don't have many (yet) but I went to Target to check out the Jovovich-Hawk collection. Apparently all the fashionistas got there early and cleaned it out of the good sizes (I mean, where is my chest going to go in an XS? Really?). But, there was tons of Mossimo, which is underrated in my personal opinion! I found a really adorable taupe/purple flowered spring dress with a stretch/rouched bodice, that looks similar to a blue/tan hippie dress from the Jovovich-Hawk collection (and $20 less, how do you like that?). Plus I got these really quirky looking neon plaid wedges. Secretista said that she heard ballet flats are out this spring while wedges are in. Know what I say to that idea? "Kiss my flats!" Hahaha, incredibly lame, but true nonetheless. I just bought some cute floral flats and I don't care whether it stays trendy, they are perfect for my stupid hilly campus. I do love wedges too though, can't deny that.

I can't wait to tell you guys about all the stuff I (hope to) get into in my boring little town/city this upcoming week (sarcasm of course)! Or maybe I will just keep the topics off my boring life...can't believe none of my lame friends want to go on a crazy road trip or something. It could be like Boys on the Side, minus the cancer or whatever...or Crossroads, minus the cheesy acting...or Road Trip, minus the abomination that is Tom Green. Ha ha, at any rate I hope to have much more interesting posts with lots of pics for the people with short attention spans. I ramble, I know. If Roomie's flight isn't delayed, I may even come back tonight! But I learned my lesson about making promises. I know, I know, what a jerk!

Stupid Exams tomorrow...

One in the a.m. (cognition) and one in the afternoon (econ.) so I will be back tomorrow. I am really trying to be on this blog as often as possible...this is like my fave thing to do, but cramming is no longer my reality, so I must actually review tonight. Later!

GirlCrush: Rashida Jones

I am trying out this new type of post, where each week or so (you know my posting habits already, I am sure) I write briefly about a celebrity (that's the current criterion) woman I admire for her various attributes: be it style, charity, poise, intelligence, beauty, character, talent, etc. I call it GirlCrush simply because I often find myself gushing, "Oh my God, I love her!" when I see one of them. Contrary to popular belief, females are not always catty or jealous, and I am sure there are many girls like me who have found women to admire.

The first of these is Rashida Jones, daughter of legendary mogul Quincy Jones and one of the coolest girls in 60's TV, Peggy Lipton (best known as Detective Julie Barnes of the Mod Squad). In case you were living in a bomb shelter somewhere since Steve Carell first made his presence known, you have seen Rashida in the hit show, The Office. Outside of seeing her always at Quincy Jones' side as a younger girl, I was first introduced to Rashida on the series Boston Public. She's done a number of movies, and a couple of shows, too. You can now watch her on the new FOX show, Unhitched, which I really hope sticks around on the lineup. She's also a singer/songwriter like her dad. Recently I read a brief article on her and found out she was shunned by an all-black Greek organization at Harvard (which surprises me, for who wouldn't want Q's daughter as a member?), and I totally sympathized! It just made me love her more. From what I have seen of her personality, she seems a lot like me, and it's no wonder they didn't take her. She strikes me as the type to always be on the outskirts, "on the verge" of fitting in, but not quite, be it for her own choices or out of others' misunderstanding. Hence, she oozes fantastic awesomeness.

I wish my picture had come out bigger...grr. I heard she now has a green clothing line with a friend. I hate celebrity's putting their names on the designs of others and claiming it for their own, but power to her for making it enviro-friendly. She has such great style to me. If I were a celebrity, I think many of my days would be spent looking like her (with a bit of Agyness Deyn's hipster quirkiness infused). She is so adorably casual, sometimes leaning towards dressing like a trendy guy, and when she gets glam, she just looks so effortlessly gorgeous. Plus, I love how no matter what she wears she looks comfortable in it, like she's just having the most fun. I wonder why she doesn't model? I would so buy what she's selling.

Ok, So Get This...(Or, why this "Supergyrl" ain't so super...)

I had something else planned for today, but I had to write about this while the novelty, shock, and anger were fresh. In case you didn't know, supergyrl is part of the email address I have had since the 7th or 8th grade...some young girl's unhealthy infatuation with Superman, blah, blah, blah. On to today's topic.

I witnessed a robbery today. Well, it was more like a mugging, but I generally think of a gun being involved in a mugging. I was in the subway (or Metro, whatev) after my morning exam, listening to my iPod and waiting for my train home to show up when I heard a girl yelling. I couldn't make out what she was saying over the blast of my headphones plus the train terminal is kinda long. So, I just assumed that it was some raucous high school kids playing around like usual. A few seconds later, this guy brushes past me like lightning. Surprised, I removed one of the earbuds to hear the girl scream (again): "Somebody help me! Stop him! He stole my iPod!" I looked up in time to see the guy running up the escalator at which time this other guy hurried over.

"Is this for real?" I asked, and he shrugged. Immediately we both went after the guy. We followed him out of the station's only exit on that side, but he was already gone. The guy I spoke to just continued on walking away, which made me wonder (later) if he was a co-conspirator. By this time, the girl had caught up with me and was bawling her eyes out. We asked some workers at the exit if they saw where he went, but they only knew he disappeared into a cluster of apartment buildings. We flagged down a policeman in a cop car (which was at the corner, btw), who contacted Metro Transit Police, but he wouldn't go investigate at the apartments. I know it's the hood, but yeesh, call backup or something. Since I saw the thief's jacket, I kept looking around to see if he might appear down the street, but he was history. When the MTP got there, the girl made her report and I gave my witness statement. We offered to show the thief to the cops on the security cameras, but they refused to let us see them, which was ridic since we were the only ones still on the train platform that saw him.

On my way home, I felt kind of guilty for not taking her yelling seriously at first. If I had heard what she was saying I could have tripped him as he ran by. But, I did try to help by going after him. I got flak from my dad about it, but it seemed unlikely that a high school aged black boy who snatched an iPod from the only 5'2" Jewish girl (out of all of us with iPods, no offense) in the station would pose much of a threat to me, especially with police nearby. Anyway, because I could be wrong, I never intended to confront him alone, merely find his location and get a good look at him. But the thing that bothered me most was what she kept saying as she was crying: "I was screaming for help, and no one did anything."

Now, like any Psych major, I know about bystander apathy when I hear it. But, the facts do not change that I find it ridiculous. This girl lost $300 bucks she probably won't get back. In fact, never mind whether she looked rich, or poor, or whatever. The entire event is violating. Someone has entered your personal space and took from you, out of your hands. How would you feel? How could you possibly see it happening and not do anything about it? It made me feel sick. I (morbidly) began thinking of all the things that could happen to me, in a public place, and there is always the possibility that no one would help me. Not to be that person and make it a "race thing," but everyone in that station today was black except for her. I was really hoping that the actions of everyone involved (and not involved, just watching it happen) would not distort her views of my black people as a whole; that can happen, you know, especially with jarring experiences such as these. That poor girl; I know that it's better he took an object than something more valuable, like her life, but still, it's a traumatizing thing. I always said I would never fall victim to bystander apathy, but I almost did. I shrugged off her screams initially because I have been so conditioned by my experiences that I was accustomed to...ok, sorry, it was a Psych exam this morning. Something similar happened to my first roommate late at night a few years back, but there was a gun involved. It may be extreme, but I am seriously rethinking my position on driving to school.

Oh, and I think I got a C on that exam. Ick. I hope it was a B, but I don't know. I did a poor job of studying. And, I discovered that an all-night cram session leads to lapses in judgment. Case in point (excuse my piano-player fingers):



Btw, visit my Bestie's blog! She's a noob and a goofball like me, and she's one of my fave people in the world!

Can't Be Bothered...

Aww, that's a total lie (not really)! I am gonna be watching America's Next Top Model, like now...which is the small bit of time between sleeping and studying that I had initially allotted for posting. Got a major exam in Psych Testing tomorrow @ 8 am. Plus, Roomie's not home this week (sad face!), so I got sidetracked doing a bit of Risky Business dancing in the kitchen. I frickin' love doing this blog. I can bitch and moan and squeal excitedly about whatever I want. But really, the more readers I get (um, is it 2 now? Or 3?) the more I feel I must impress you. So, as I am cooking up a couple of spectacular (not really) posts to regale you with for the next few days, enjoy this ANTM recap of last Wednesday by the incredible Rich @ FourFour. Such a funny and creative blogger, really. Even if you don't like the show, I guarantee you will be grabbing your sides in laughter at his posts!

I will not neglect this blog. I will not neglect this blog. That is my solemn oath to all (3) of you! Don't abandon me when I need readers the most!

The Place to be

The past 2 weekends have cemented 2 things in my mind: 1) being drunk for 48 hours straight is not a good idea (especially for a rookie like me), and 2) I love, love, love gay clubs, and I am sure there are many kinds but I mean the really techno-heavy, house mix, sweat-your-hairdo-out gay clubs. It's probably because I get called fierce, which (is kinda dated but) I love only because the gay guys I know would never say it if they didn't mean it, as well as getting to wear some smokin' hot outfit without getting hit on (as many black lesbians I have seen appear to frequent straight clubs to hear hip-hop/r&b/top 40 hits). It's fantastic to dance the night away without your "radar" on. You know, having to be on the lookout that some ugly guy is gonna creep up on you and start humping your leg. Aside from the confines of my iPod headphones, it's the only type of place I can listen to Madonna, Whitney, and Janet club mixes to my heart's content, and actually (gasp!) enjoy Britney and Rihanna songs. Plus the guys are often hot and shirtless (sometimes pants-less, due to the check your pants at the door, get in free Saturday night they had), so there is eye candy abundance.

The one place that Roomie and I attend with something like regularity is be bar, as Roomie's ex-roomie, our incredibly stylish friend, we'll call her Maven (short for Fashion Maven, natch), works there. We also bring our cool, hip, and metrosexual Rock Band buddy By with us. He's great. So anyway this one particular night, I was coaxed (not hard, since I was already tipsy) into doing my "model walk" down the sidewalk in this:


I soooo would've been a late 80's early 90's queen! See, Susan? Took your advice and wore the jacket. I loved it...the whole look. The dress is this thick-strapped, tight fitting number that made my body look fantastic in person. Yes, my head is swelling. Stupid lighting...the tights were the same bright purple as one of my fave Urban Decay eyeshadows, Flash, which I was wearing.


I would show it to you but I hate close-ups of my face. Trust me when I say it was great. I had my kohl black Diorshow mascara and did a mod/Amy Winehouse winged eye with my eyeliner, which I highlighted and blended with the purple on my lid and did stark purple under my lower lashes. I love a dramatic eye for night! Although in the club (and in the pics, apparently) it was hardly visible, I knew it was there and that's what matters, right? Long story short, I had a fantastic time although vodka and tequila were emanating from my pores all weekend. Yuck.

Score!

I am most often discouraged on retail/outlet shopping trips...most sales do diddly-squat to fit my budget or the clothes I have heard so much about disappoint, majorly (*cough* Bitten by SJP *cough* more on that in a sec). But yesterday...the clouds parted and the choirs sang harmoniously as the sunrays shined on this little number.


Ok, ok, not really, and I have already said I am no photographer (plus my camera is like from the first generation of digital cameras, btw). It looks a little blah in the pics, but this silver/gray trench coat (is it a coat, really?) is all kinds of awesome in real life. Shockingly it is by Romeo + Juliet Couture, which I usually loathe (damn you, with your fleur de lis and trendy skulls on your $65 t-shirts). It retails for close to $200, which I find ridic, so imagine my pleasure to get it for the price of one of the aforementioned tees! Yay, me!

Ok, so you true bargain hunters and fashionistas may be scoffing at my deal, but I am very proud. One of the biggest ironies I encounter as a 5'8" size 4 is the "model myth". You know, that most clothes are made for tall, skinny girls. Skinny maybe, tall...hell no. Most jackets cuff at that awkward length some 3" before it hits my wrist. I look like I've grown out of my clothes though they are newly purchased. The ones that are long enough at the sleeves are so big on my frame they make me look like a perverted flasher. Others I would try to fake as being 3/4 length sleeves won't close over my chest. This jacket is heaven to me for being pretty, pleated, light-weight, having the ability to close over my boobs (*ahem* Bitten), and having 3/4 length sleeves. It's gonna be my spring trench. It's so girly I can't stand it! Squee!

And now that you have indulged me in my little gushing moment...I gotta talk about Bitten by Sarah Jessica Parker. WTF, dude? I was so hyped. I went on the site and picked out this adorable dress and waist-length khaki trench that would total up to $20. I went to Steve and Barry's with baited breath and...wow. First off, I felt like I am in a Sam's Club Warehouse while Amanda Bynes is talking to me with crossed eyes about her Wet-Seal-on-speed line, Dear. I wentstraight to the Bitten area...it was half cleaned out. People were grabbing and tossing things like a free-for-all. Did I mention it was Saturday? It was like one of those cartoon clouds of smoke they use to symbolize fights with the limbs and heads appearing from time to time. My hoped-for trench was nowhere to be found. Damn. It. But I found the dress! In a size 14! Curses, foiled again. As I hung my head, tossed haphazardly from a rack was a cute, simple LBD and I got excited again, taking a 4 and a 6 with me to the dressing room. I tried on the 4 first, and my roommate had to practically press her foot into my back to shove me in the top of the dress corset-style so she can zip it. Ah, no worries, I have huge nunga-nungas. It is a fact of my life, and I deal. So then I put on the 6. It fit exactly like the 4 at the top, yet the fabric barely grazed my waist! So, does SJP think that as girls' frames spread, their chests stay exactly the same? The injustice, people! I looked around more, but felt more and more uninspired by all the nondescript colors and designs. Bitten was sucking out what little fashion savvy I had vampire-style (get it? Get it?) and so I left, muttering about how Carrie Bradshaw wouldn't be caught dead in there.

But then I found my trench coat/jacket/thingie and forgot all about it! :-) Shopping is like the best roller coaster I could ever ride, I swear it.

Oh, and apparently I have a reader or two! Hope I haven't sent you packing with my lackadaisical updating habits!

Obligatory Post

Didn't want to let so much time go by without a post again. These MCAT prep classes in addition to 20 credits worth of classes this semester are seriously kicking my butt. I may post later, but Happy Prez Day, I guess.

The Closet Dregs

I am a pack rat and compulsive shopper who made a new year's resolution to: 1) reincorporate my old clothing into my wardrobe if it's wearable, and 2) not enter any retail or online store with my credit or debit card or cash nearby (most of the time). So far, I have remained committed to #2, I haven't bought a thing from online or a retail store...but #1 still gives me trouble. The thing is, I can still fit all of my clothes from 9th-12th grade. In fact, some are a little big (size 7 or 8) but can be taken in. I know many people who say they wish they had my problem, but because I am a pack rat, it makes it extremely difficult to justify getting rid of these clothes. Well, I abandoned those pieces with "Baby Phat", "Ecko Red", "Rocawear", etc. emblazoned in jewels and such because, well, in Tamia's words, I am just too grown for that. Other than being a mid-priced label ho, I was a nondescript dresser in high school, so it is not as if my jeans, skirts, dresses, and t-shirts are totally out of style. In fact, nothing really has to be out of style, the way I see it; it just needs a little revamping. You know: "We can rebuild it, we have the technology..."

So, in honor of my pack-rat-y-ness, I have decided to pull from the closet dregs and see what I can do with some of the stuff I never wear, including old, old clothes and what-the-hell-was-I-thinking impulse buys. Let's begin with this skirt.

It's from my Tommy Hilfiger phase of 8th grade (yes, my black people, I know, sorry). I would call it A-line to the extreme, the way it flares and folds. AAA-line. It is extremely difficult to pair with anything in my closet but a fitted tee, but I wanted to reach just a little further. Here's what I came up with.

Jacket: 80's leather, thrifted. Shirt: Express, clearance bin. Skirt: Uh, the TH store? I dunno. Tights: Forever 21. Boots: Casadei, bluefly.com clearance.

Whoo, buddy...my legs look minute on camera. I must apologize for poor lighting...and aim...and whatever else sucks about the picture itself. I am no photographer. Nor am I the most photogenic. There is that 80's leather jacket. I tried to subdue the giant arm effect by tucking it back some. I can't say I am crazy about this one, but I will tell you that I was going for that whole biker effect with a touch of femininity. I am wearing silver feather earrings, but they aren't very visible here, although cute in person. Ahhh, it's okay. Whatevs, I am relatively new to the whole self-fashion thing so I am not too upset about it. In retrospect, I would change the shirt, but to what? Dunno. I really just wanted to wear the boots, which I am obsessed with and would wear everyday if my distressed and eventually mangled feet wouldn't bleed all over the Italian leather.

Undershirt: Old Navy? Tunic: Wet Seal, ages ago. Bracelets: Forever 21. Plaid Flats: thrifted


Ok, I must say I like this one better. I didn't go overboard with any colors, which seems to be the bravest way to be fashionable. But, the skirt was so pale, most of my tights and bright shirts made it look incredibly out of place. Those plaid flats are my faves (of the few flats I have), and so I just stuck em on. The cream shirt is so old, the printing on the shirt (with the store purchased, etc) is totally gone. I think it was Old Navy, but who the hell knows? I wear it under stuff only, because for some reason the fabric loosens over the course of the day. The navy tunic is actually old too, but I wear it from time to time, so it doesn't count for the dregs. I think this pairing actually makes it look like it's supposed to be a dress, which is nice. It'd be ok to wear in that transitional time when March is not sure whether to be warm or chilly. Plus the tunic subdues the circular flare of the skirt, which would come in handy for that crazy DC wind so I am not flashing my goods to the general public.

Question...

If I found a steal of a deal vintage 80's black leather jacket with the large winged Dolman sleeves *that makes me look like Queen-of-the-night/wanna-dance-with-somebody Whitney Houston* do I alter said sleeves to my (slightly updated) "tastes"? Or do I leave it alone to pay homage to the era *and my laziness* and endure the confused looks of my friends? Quite the quandary...

Guilty Pleasures (TV edition)

I watch a lot of TV, and lately, as much Cold Case as I can lay my eyes on. In fact, just before writing this I was perusing the web for online episodes since CBS doesn't keep any on Innertube. I love, love, love this show and don't care that I hopped on the bandwagon about 5 seasons in...I am hooked. Despite her never-changing hairstyle (though it's looking better this season...it's still "with hair clip"/"without hair clip"), I love Kathryn Morris as damaged Detective Lilly Rush (and as damaged wife of Tom Cruise in Minority Report).

And boy-oh-boy was I thrilled to see fellow Howard-ite, the beautiful Tracie Thoms as Detective Kat Miller (veteran of Rent, The Devil Wears Prada, and Grindhouse...shazzam!) doing it up on network TV!

But, the lustful, boy-crazy teenybopper in me must confess my infatuation with Danny Pino also known as the smokin' hot Detective Scotty Valens (sigh). I mean, he is just one delicious man. I can be really ridiculous, screaming at the TV for Lilly and Scotty to just get it on already. It's so there - the sexual tension, I mean. Wow. I have to admit seeing it in print is kinda sad, but true. The other actors are wonderful too, but these are my faves. Oh, and the photos are from the CBS Cold Case website.

Ok, So Get This...

I have bad luck. But, not in the got-held-up-in-a-back-alley or I-lost-all-my-money-gambling sense of the phrase: just really small things that hinder my daily progress/make others laugh at my minor misfortunes. Overall, I know life is good for me, but the cynic comes out of me every now and then. These are everyday occurrences and not wholly unusual, but the way they tend to pile on seems straight out of a movie/tv show. So incredulous are my mother and friends when I regale them with tales of my day (cuz I have to vent of course) they often say, "you should write these down!" And, now I will be.

Last night, I went through the elaborate process of budget hairstyling and managed to achieve a semi-perfect blowout, springy curls and all. Like any "beauty is pain" mantra worshiper, I endured a fitful night of sleep on balled fists to preserve my coiffure (yeah, it was that good). Because I took so long dipping into REM sleep, I woke up late. Jumping into my non-ironed clothes was punctuated with a frantic search for my gloves, resulting in spilling a large glass of water on my (closed, luckily) brand new laptop. Freaking out, (natch), I mopped it up with a towel: a towel on which were attached...dunh-dunh-dunh...said gloves, now sopping wet. With no time to cry over spilled milk - er, water, I headed out the door to begin my daily subway journey to university.

On the train, I mention the rain to my friend, and he makes an "umbrella-ella-ella" joke. I proceed to rant about how played the phrase is (it's 2008, people!) and the song as well. Like usual, I got dramatically overzealous in complaining about how overrated Rihanna and the Dream (songwriter) are in my distaste. Nothing new there. Upon leaving the Metro stop, I opened my umbrella (eh, eh) only to have it close on my head. Like a Venus Flytrap. The nifty little compact with the pop-out function snapped. I tried to force it back open only to realize I would have to hold it open the entire uphill journey to class (which isn't short, I should mention). Great.

Upon reaching class, I realize that my semi-closed umbrella caused a steady accumulation of water to drip, drip, drip onto my shiny bouncy hair, reducing it to a stiff, frizzy nest, as it would stay until the close of my day. As I pulled out my (soggy!) notebook from my (open!) tote, with numb red hands I concluded three things about God, or Karma, at least: He loves irony, has impeccable comedic timing, and is a huge Rihanna fan.