Very Very Very Very Very Very....

As promised, today's entry will be diary entries only. This actually works out for me, because I am exhausted...the sleep-on-the-couch method did not work last night, and I only got about 15 minutes of sleep. Oh wait, I said I wasn't going to complain. Crap. Okay, forget I just said that (don't even get all smart with me and tell me that there is a "delete" button on my keyboard).

And away we go...

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Momma Said Knock You Out...

I suck at life, for serious.

My brain has been in a haze lately... I think it's probably because I've been needing to take sleep medication on a nightly basis for a while now. I've been seriously considering cutting it off cold-turkey and just letting the natural exhaustion take over, but that usually takes... about a week.

So I decided that before taking such a drastic measure, I should try some other methods first. I decided to work out more (because anything is more than nothing, right?) and maybe... just maybe I'd be so tired that I'd pass out.

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Note to self...

This is just a quick one before my real post later. I just found this hilarious and I had to share.

So, I'm an insomniac. Maybe I'll share the full story about that another time, but truthfully it's not that interesting. I used to be able to sleep, and then I stopped. End of story.

As a result of the insomnia I take Ambien to help me sleep. In another of my posts I mention that I occasionally make strange purchases while on Ambien, but I usually remember it later - nothing like those crazies who sleep-drive and have no idea the next day.

Also, I guess I make "To-Do" lists. I remember hopping out of bed around 12:30 last night because I thought of about a million things I needed to do and I was worried that I'd forget one of them, so I wanted to write them down.

This morning, I emerged from my bedroom to see a little yellow notepad sitting on the coffee table. I reviewed my list for today... mostly normal stuff - Send an email, return a phone call...etc. Then about half way down the list, I read one item that just makes me stop in my tracks. Hilarious.

Smack dab in the middle of my to-do list it reads:

"Go to work"

Hahaha. Because apparently I felt I needed reminding. Awesome.

I hate to admit it...

But Tyra Banks was right.

As much as Tyra Banks annoys the crap out of me... I will admit (though not proudly) that I TiVo every episode of The Tyra Show.

Recently she did an expose on the dangers of texting while driving. In this episode she also had a segment in which she discussed the top 10 most dangerous foods to eat while driving. I looked for the full list online, but I was unable to locate it, but I will share with you what I remember.

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Cut off your nose to Speidi-Face...

So remember yesterday when I bitched for like 7 hours about the irresponsibility of Heidi Montag's plastic surgeon allowing her to be under anesthesia for the duration of 10 procedures?

This article surfaced today, thus further emphasizing my point.

Heidi? Come on. "Oh, yeah I almost died... but really, it's not a big deal. PS. I want bigger boobs."

Anyone remember what she said back in 2007 when she gave her interview to US Weekly about her "Revenge Plastic Surgery?" I used to subscribe to US Weekly and I have a memory for unnecessary details about unimportant thing, so naturally, I do...

Her quote, verbatim:

"Right before I went in, I was like, What if I don’t wake up? Oh, this is scary. Then I thought, I don’t care. If I don’t wake up, it’s worth it. I just wanted it so badly,"

Well, Heidi, you almost got your wish.

And we almost got ours.

Okay, I guess all I needed to do was say that I didn't have anything to write about to light my creative fire.

So, as I do most days, I spent a few minutes catching up on my celebrity gossip. My celeb gossip site of choice is The Superficial. Admittedly, it's gone downhill in the past few years - the writing is not quite as clever and the site is now more about models in swimsuits and bikinis than actual celebrity gossip, but it still serves its purpose.

One of the biggest stories making it's rounds right now is Heidi Montag and her amazing technicolor dream-face. Now, personally I don't think there is anything wrong with a little nip and tuck here and there (even though the show, Nip/Tuck completely blows now.... I still watch it.)

If it helps boost your self esteem a little and makes you look/feel a bit fresher and you have the available funds, then sure - go for it. But I also think that if you can't feel good about yourself without going under the knife, you'd probably be better off spending that cash on some psychotherapy. But, off my soapbox for now. Not for long.

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Meh.

My brain has not been functioning up to it's normal snarky level. I've started multiple blog posts, only to read them over and deem the writing to be "sucky," deleting them so that I don't have to impart my suckitude all over you, my readers (all 5 of you.)

Tomorrow I plan to bite the bullet and just write. My preemptive apologies for any sucky writing.

Maybe if I take a nap and wake up in a cold sweat I'll be more creative. Done. See you all in a few hours when I return to post my Dear Diary moment. 26 year old T may not have words for you, but I can guarantee 12 year old T had words to share. Wise words.

Because Every Entry I Post Has to Reference The Jersey Shore

So, tonight I was watching the latest episode of The Jersey Shore with R. The opening credits feature a 2 or 3 second shot of each cast member with their name flashed across the screen. The usual suspects... Snookie, JWowww, The Situation, Sammi (The Sweetheart) - btw why does everyone on the Jersey Shore have a nickname? You may now call me TWowww. Anyway, they got to Angelina (Jolie as they called her on the show) and I looked over at R.

"I haven't seen Angelina in a few episodes. Where is she?"

"You're right, I haven't seen her either. That's weird."

So I hopped on google. Yes, I googled. I typed in "Where is Angelina from the Jersey Shore?"

The first article produced on the search list was this one: Jersey Shore's Angelina Leaves Show

So apparently she's been gone since early December. And neither R nor I took notice (and apparently we both missed the part where she packed up and moved out.)

It got me thinking about how every reality TV show cast always has to have the same band of merry men.

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Simply T and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day: or why I suck at life.

While at dinner with AC and MP last night, we got to discussing our friend CK's upcoming baby shower. The conversation about babies eventually turned to a discussion about our favorite childhood books.

MP was the first to bring up her favorite childhood book - Gregory, The Terrible Eater. It's a story of a young goat, who's parents want him to eat "like a real goat," including tin cans, boxes, and other garbage. But Gregory is no ordinary goat. He enjoys a diet consisting of fruits, vegetables, fish, spaghetti - you know, real food. Ultimately, Gregory and his parents must come to a compromise - Gregory will eat spaghetti with shoelaces mixed in and other various meals combining real food and trash - a perfect harmony between the diet of a "real goat" and Gregory's personal preference.

The underlying message here - don't be afraid to walk to the beat of your own drummer. And parents? Accept your kids, regardless of their personal lifestyle choices. Very progressive, Reading Rainbow.

Next, AC mentioned her favorite book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. You know this story - a kid has a really crappy day, one thing compounding on the next. He gets gum stuck in his hair, trips on a skateboard and drops his sweater into the sink filled with water. All before leaving the house.

Then at school, his bitch of a teacher, Mrs. Dickens, craps all over Alexander's self esteem - most likely damaging him for good, leading to a lifetime of psychotherapy. Who's gonna pay for that, Mrs. Dickens? Who!? Picasso over here says she doesn't like his drawing of an invisible castle (a blank sheet of paper - give the kid a break, he's creative!), she criticizes him for leaving out number 16 while counting, and tells him he sings too loudly. Like, way to call the kid out in front of his mates, lady. It's called mental abuse, you cruel, heartless wench! Where did you get your teaching degree, anyway?

Anyway, the story goes on - and poor Alexander's day gets progressively worse. Much like my day today. Today was my Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.

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I'm Not Ansel Adams

I just started a photography class last week and I went out to shoot my first assignment today. Our assignment was simple: take one digital roll (48 photos) using a shutter speed 60 or greater using natural light only. Our teacher does not like flash photography. He says it "steals your soul." Heh.

Ok, so using the natural light only, I am attempting to to get in-focus photos... which... is harder than it sounds. Main reason being that it's January and the days have been gray... so, most of my pictures totally sucked and were all out of focus.

Using the aperture priority setting on my schmancy new Nikon D90, I had difficulty at times getting the shutter speed over 60. I fiddled around with my f-stop settings, but at times even with my f-stop at 1.8, I could only get the shutter speed to be 40 or 50.

So, I guess I'm not a photography prodigy. In my mind I envisioned going out, taking my 48 photos, and having them all come out with amazing color, focus and artistic vision. I just knew my teacher would recognize my genius and recommend me for a photog profile in some international publication. But, I think I can safely say that won't happen... well, until I get more practice.

I am on my way to be fitted for a bridesmaid's dress, so I won't have time to post today's diary entry until later this evening. Much love, readers.

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Summa Summa Summatime

Since I have been complaining about the cold a lot, and really, no one likes a complainer, I decided the best way to avoid complaining 'bout the frigid temperatures is to escape into a little fantasy world where it's summer all the time (Or... Southern California. Why did R and I move back? Why?). Anyway, summers in Chicago ARE. THE. SHIT. Sorry, other cities, but Chicago rules and you just drool.

The things I get to look forward to every year: walks/bikes along the Lake Michigan lakefront path, beach volleyball, Taste of Chicago, outdoor concerts, and most notably: Castaways at North Avenue Beach.

For the out-of-towners, Castaways is my favorite place in the world. It is my own personal Disneyland: The Happiest Place On Earth. It is a seasonal, summer only bar on Chicago's North Avenue beach, atop a building made to look like a giant ship. They serve bar food (Nachooooo!) and some very excellent frozen, fruity drinks. My fave? The Miami Vice - half Pina Colada, half Strawberry Daiquiri. YUM! It's also packed to the gills on a daily basis with over-tanned meat heads and their silicone breasted girlfriends.

It's like The Jersey Shore in Chicago. (I realize this is, like, the 4th post in a row that I have referenced Jersey Shore, but... I can't help it. It's so trashtastically wonderful! Gym, Tan, Laundry anyone?)

What could be better than people-watching on top of a fake boat, getting sloshed during the middle of the day? The answer, my friends, is nothing. Nothing is better than that.

Anyway, I have all these wonderful existing summer traditions, but 2010 is about new things! As of late, I have been day-dreaming about this summer and all the fun things I want to do. I thought I'd share, and maybe gather some further suggestions for 2010 summer adventures. And away we go!

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Scattered Thoughts - Who IS Burt??

I have no central theme for today's post, but I'm thinking if I just start writing, one will emerge. So, I guess this is the best representation of how my brain is working.... in real time. Blogging Freestyle, as another blogger put it. Ready? Go.

I really like Activia yogurt, but whenever I eat it I feel like I'm sending a message to onlookers that I am constipated.

Yesterday, I was driving in my car. I had to blow my nose, but I had no tissues - so I used an alcohol swab. Note to self: Buy Kleenex.

I love dogs. So much, in fact, that if a sketchy looking man pulled up in an unmarked van and told me to get in because there was a box full of puppies in the back, I probably would. No. No. I definitely would.

Speaking of dogs, I saw one on the street today wearing a sweater and duct-tape booties. They probably weren't really duct tape, but that's what it looked like to me. Not like he had a tape-leg or anything. It was really cute, but somehow I feel like dogs are humiliated when humans dress them up. R bought some Grip Trex Bark'n Boots for A to keep his paws protected from the snow and salt. A will tolerate them, but he high steps like a baby deer on ice (Deer on Ice! Coming soon to Madison Square Garden!) and hangs his head like he is so sad that he is wearing these ridiculous booties. But he just looks so cuuuuute!

Sometimes, we put a T-shirt on A during thunder storms, since he trembles and tries to hide in the closet in fear. We read somewhere that the t-shirt "hugs" the dog and makes them feel safe, thus quelling their fear of thunder. I have yet to see any results, but he looks pretty damn cute wearing a Sigma Chi Derby Days T-shirt. Heh.

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Baby It's Cold Outside

So, it's Friday. That means 2 full days of no work, and the freedom to do nothing at all. Being that it's January, and the temperatures here have dipped into single digits, we are hibernating for the winter. Add to that the foot (feet, maybe) of snow we just got, and the prospect of going out on the weekends is nil. My party clothes just aren't built for this kind of weather. Let's look at the numbers, shall we? Six inches of stilletto + 24 inches of snow = 16 inches of cold, wet leg. I hate the cold, but I love to complain about it, so it's for the best that we re-emerge to our social lives and nights out only once the ground thaws.

Staying cozy in weather like this is a must. I cannot survive hibernation without my favorite things, so I present to you:

Simply T's Guide to Staying Roasty Toasty

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Scattered Thoughts - Dumb Birds

So I've been a bad little blogger as of late. Life and my day job got the better of me. Damn you, real job! But in the past few days I've had the opportunity to do a lot of tangential thinking, and as a result I present you with Scattered Thoughts. I need to come up with a better title for postings like this, because I have a feeling that my future is filled with Scattered Thoughts topics. Why? Because that's just the way my brain works... most of the time. Suggestions welcome. Ready? Go.

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I've been M.I.A. the last few days, I know. I've been very busy making an indentation in my couch with my butt. And building puzzles with R. Yes, puzzles. Chicago temperatures have been "freeze your snot in your nose" cold, so we have been hiding out at home for the long weekend.

New Year's Eve was fun, and went off without a hitch... mostly. R made dinner reservations and said he would drive us to and from dinner. I thought about mentioning that we might have a difficult time finding parking when we got home, since we live about 3 blocks from Wrigley field right smack dab in the middle between all the Wrigleyville bars on Clark St. and all the Boystown bars on Halsted. I pushed the thought out of my mind, figuring that even on the busiest summer Saturday night, the farthest we've ever had to park from our house is about 2 blocks. Not a big deal. So we went to dinner and had delicious Sushi at Shiso followed up with a delicious fried tempura green tea ice cream. It was f-f-f-f-freezing when we left dinner, but we cranked the heat in the car and drove home. We arrived back in our hood at about 8:30 and we circled our block once to see that there was no parking on our block, so R, being the gentleman that he is dropped me off at the house since I was A: wearing a dress, and B: wearing 7 inch heels. Good boyfriend, rack up those brownie points before the end of 2009.

Once I got in the comfort of our own apartment I immediately kicked off my heels and changed from a dress to R's giant man-sweatpants (even though he had nicely laid out my own pink and white girl's PJ pants) and a t-shirt. I seize any opportunity to shed my fancy duds. Maybe it's because my party clothes are so binding. Anyone? Anyone? Clueless? Moving on.

I settled on the couch, waiting for R to return from parking the car and got distracted by the old school Twilight Zone episodes on our DVR (I think we had like 38 episodes recorded from the NYE marathon). Losing track of time, it was about 2.5 episodes in that I realized R still hadn't returned from parking the car... it was now 10:00. I got worried, but a minute later I finally received a text from R.

R: "This is insanity."
T: "Can I do anything?"
R: "Be superhuman and throw cars to the side."
T: "Raaagggghhhhh" (I think this was supposed to be my impression of me Hulking out and throwing cars)
R: "This is crazy. I even went up to our old apt... nothing" (Our old apartment, in normal weather isn't THAT far... maybe a mile North and East of our place now, but in sub-zero temperatures it might as well be 300 miles.)
T: "Oh man. Do you want company?"
R: "I would."
T: "Come get me."

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