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I see a trip to Sephora in my future July 13, 2008

Posted by charmingbutsingle in Listing is fun and easy.
25 comments

Things that make summer awesome:

  • Lounging around near the water with friends, fresh food and cold beers;
  • Awesome flowy sundresses;
  • Flip flops;
  • Sunshine until 8 p.m.

Things that make summer suck:

  • Forgetting to bring your make up bag inside from your car and returning to find your makeup and brushes coated with a light slimy layer of lipgloss because your MAC palette melted into a shiny soup of gunk.

The subtext of that text July 6, 2008

Posted by charmingbutsingle in General Clumsiness and Related Stupidity, Life, Men, Really. Bad. Habits..
45 comments

My irresponsible texting of The Most Wrong Man Ever started in a semi-drunken state several weeks back. There I was, telling my girlfriends about the horror that was my little crying fit when I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to tell him what a jerkoff I thought he was. So, common sense and reservations cast aside, I texted him and we had a most immature text message fight where he admitted to lying the first time we dated, but didn’t see any wrongdoing on his part during our most recent “with benefits” excursions.

Now, with all of my senses in tact, I know he is somewhat right and I blame myself for most of my heartache – he was a factor, but in this case there is much truth to the statement that no one can take advantage of you unless you let them. I didn’t protect my emotions after the first fiasco and I shouldn’t have expected much more from him the second time around. Not that I’d expect him to be proud of his actions, namely never really wanting much from me other than the extracurriculars (even the first time we dated). I’m certainly far from proud of my own actions.

But the text message floodgates were open and for the past few weeks we’ve texted and IMed occasionally. Idle chit-chat mostly, with a dash of me lashing out for good measure. We are two flawed people, me content to pick at the scab and feel scorned, him content to allow me to vent if it means leaving the door to more physical irresponsibility open.

So I was at a show one night and the band played “Goddamn Lonely Love” by the Drive By Truckers, which I must’ve listened to one thousand times in the past two months. Something about the low twang and lyrics of desperation make it the perfect song for wallowing. And that night, in that bar, I felt myself moving in time with the rhythm, unable to hear anything by the song and somewhat oblivious to the rest of the crowd. With my sundress skimming my knees I’d sway with the constant drum beat and then rock back hard on my heels with each third note.

After it finished, I sent him a text: “I think I am almost over the mortification …”

And thus, another round ensued. I assured him I wasn’t sex-texting, just letting him know. He proceeded to grill me about if I’d been dating this guy he knew and I hadn’t, but he insisted that I had been, so I said it must’ve been another one of his women and suggested he poll the rest of his harem. Things pretty much devolved from there.

Standing in that bar, surrounded by my friends but focused somewhere else, I vowed to put an end to it right then and there. Had I never communicated with him again the first time around, I could have saved myself an ocean of tears and self doubt.

I minded this rule for a few weeks more. And then, it happened.

He booty-IMed.

I was asleep and didn’t respond until the morning, at which time he confirmed that he’d wanted to see me after a few beers and that it was better that I hadn’t been awake because he just would have been flirting.

And then he invited me over for a quickie before I left for work.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am in bed, half naked.”

“I thought we decided this was a bad idea.”

He didn’t have an answer for that. I told him I wasn’t interested and headed to the office. But any progress I’d made in not wondering about him was completely shattered – all I could think about that morning was if he’d been serious or if he was just toying with my emotions now that I’d so proudly announced I was getting over it.

Curled in my bed that night I pulled my knees to my chest and shut my eyes to concentrate on how ridiculous this entire situation is and how careless I am for playing into his desires by never ceasing our communication. Before I knew it, I was involuntarily sobbing at the thought of letting him use me again and how, even if I don’t believe it 100 percent of the time, I deserve so much more than what he’s offering.

There have been no text messages since.

Purse poll June 29, 2008

Posted by charmingbutsingle in Uncategorized.
67 comments

I am looking for a bag I can wear across my body for weekend errands, including, but not limited to, shopping (grocery and otherwise), lazying about, seeing movies, late lunches and (possibly) tailgating and other casual outdoor type events. Something I can wear with a cute jersey knit dress and flip flops.

My quandary is that I have long been confused by two handbag phenomena – crazy Vera Bradley printed purses and Coach logo satchels. I’ve always wondered how adult women could adorn their hips and arms with terribly preppy quilted handbags or mini billboards full of Coach “Cs.”

But lately, as I’m searching for a cross-body purse to carry just my weekend essentials (cell, wallet, keys, sunglasses, powder and lip gloss) during the day, I’m drawn to that which I’ve hated – the Vera Bradley hipster purse and the Coach Signature Stripe Swingpack.

My sister has the Vera Bradley hipster and it is light and holds the essentials. Has an adjustable strap and comes in several cute patterns. I’m leaning toward Peacock (below), Puccini or Mod Floral Blue. And given that it is fabric, I wouldn’t be too worried about spilling something on it. And it is less than half the price of the Coach bag.

The downside is that I worry the Vera Bradley is too young looking. I see adult women, some older than I am, carrying Vera Bradley bags, but I often catch myself rolling my eyes at them. I’ve always thought the larger totes would make great diaper bags if I were to have a child someday.

Then there is the Coach bag. I’ve rolled my eyes with equal disdain at the Coach logo. In general, I find logo patterns to be annoying. If I wanted to advertise for a company, I would, but I don’t and I’d rather not pay to. But the Swingpack appears to be well made and large enough for the weekend essentials. In general I feel as if the Coach bag looks more like something someone in her (gasp!) late twenties would carry. But I worry that I’d carry a $128 bag with a bit of concern for getting it dirty or wet, which is simply no way to live of the weekend.

So, your thoughts?

Vera Bradley Hipster in PeacockCoach Swingpack

They read my mind June 26, 2008

Posted by charmingbutsingle in General Clumsiness and Related Stupidity, Single Girl Cliches, Snippet.
18 comments

For the third night in a row I shuffled through my neighborhood fancy organic market to get some soup, praying that this $4.99 carton of warmth would fill me with enough nutrients and goodness to kill off the miserable summer cold I have. I spent most of last weekend shivering under blankets and I’ve been hoping that this weekend I would feel stronger, less full of snot and able to sip a glass of wine with friends. Alas, it seems somewhat likely that my fate is to nest and go on soup runs again this weekend.

After picking a hearty cup of chicken chowder, I turned my attention to the drink aisle. As an aside, My Mom, when she wasn’t force feeding me liquid Jell-o, always insisted that we drink Gatorade when we were sick as children so we wouldn’t become dehydrated. I hate Gatorade with a passion and after having my tonsils out a year and a half ago, I was left weak and defenseless against my Mother and her Gatorade habit. She pretty much broke my will to ever drink the stuff again – the thought makes me gag. I’ve replaced it in my “sick regimen” with the now trendy Vitamin Water, which is kind of a laughable name because a bottle of the stuff has more than 30 grams of sugar. Despite that, I feel “healthy” when I drink it and my favorite flavor is “multi-v” lemonade.

But back in the drink aisle. I was passing on the Izze (has anyone tried low cal Izze Esque?) and looking for my Vitamin Water when I stopped dead in my tracks.

I don’t know how I missed it, but POM got rid of its unfriendly glass jars for its teas in favor of plastic bottles with screw caps. I swear on a million Bibles that I have a half-written “Open Letter to the Makers of POM Wonderful Tea” post on my computer somewhere, wherein I implore them to rid the world of their clunky drink jars. You simply have no idea how many times I spilled POM on myself. Literally each time I opened a damn bottle of the stuff, I ended up with some part of me splashed in pomegranate-laden drink. (Hibiscus Light Green Tea is my favorite.) And I’d (hopefully wrongly) assumed that I was the only grown woman who couldn’t open her freaking drink at lunch. It was maddening.

I squealed a little bit and grabbed some for dinner. It literally was the highlight of an otherwise bland and Mucinex-filled week. Which clearly means it is almost time to pick myself up and get back in the race. Or buy a cat and learn to knit. (And I hate cats.)

Not giving anyone from Rolling Stone a run for their money. But CD reviewing nonetheless. June 10, 2008

Posted by charmingbutsingle in Keeping my day job, There are songs about all of them.
25 comments

I am not a music critic. By any means. Let me make that very clear.

But, I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned before that I am a long-standing Alanis Morissette fan. As such, I went out of my way to go to Starbucks to buy her new CD this morning. (I favor local shops over Starbucks. Also, there’s something special about buying the physical CD and popping it directly into my CD player, rather than downloading it from iTunes. Alanis is pretty much the only artist I do this for.)

My first reaction was that I like this album, Flavors of Entanglement, more than previous work from Alanis. I’ve always liked a gem here or there – “Eight Easy Steps” from So Called Chaos and “Flinch,” “21 Things I Want in a Lover” and “Hands Clean” from Under Rug Swept and “Unprodigal Daughter” and “Simple Together” from Feast on Scraps. Gone are the Jagged Little Pill days when I wore the CD out from overuse.

It has been well-documented that Alanis penned this album in the days after her broken engagement to Van Wilder himself, Ryan Reynolds. And so the idea has been that she’d return to the rage of “You Oughta Know,” easily one of the best anthems for the dumped in modern times. And, while she’d probably rather not have her melodrama from more than 10 years ago be the height of her career, I’m sure she recognizes that the song’s energy, rawness and lasting popularity give her the luxury of releasing the kind of albums she releases now – softer, more thoughtful at points, less likely to hit the Billboard 100. The tone and arrangement and pronouncement of her lyrics are awkwardly hers – I don’t know anyone else who uses odd terms like “accountable-less” and “focusless-ness.”

And maybe it is my foul mood or the fact that I finally just had enough and cried years worth of tears a few weeks back. But this CD? I like it … a lot.

I could see “Citizen of the Planet,” with its strong beats on my workout mix. The same goes for “Straitjacket.” Incidentally, I snorted when I heard the break up-inspired line, “I don’t know who you’re talking to with such f–cking disrespect.” Snorted. Out loud. Thankfully I was alone in the car.

And the slower, stripped down tracks, like “Not as We” and “Torch” are the gut wrenching songs of a woman in the midst of coming to terms with her ending relationship.

While I didn’t break up with my fiancé or anything crazy like that, I don’t find it tough to relate to the angst of some songs and the sadness of others. I mean, who hasn’t wanted to “declare a moratorium on things relationship”? Hell, I think I did that last week. Twice.

Perhaps the sweetest song and the one that speaks to me the most at this moment is “Incomplete,” which celebrates an idea that I should get behind – that being somewhat unfinished and still forming is where the true beauty lies. And so I’ve been listening to its calming tone all afternoon.

“I have been running so sweaty my whole life / Urgent for a finish line / And I have been missing the rapture this whole time / Of being forever incomplete.”

I’m going to stitch that on a sampler or something.