Saturday, January 5
When I just typed in the URL to get to this page, I was confused, almost forgot what the actual address was. It's been a while, no? and I really don't have any great excuse for that other than I work too much and am trying to lose 30 lbs (10 down thus far, thankyouverymuch, also give me ALL THE BACON NOW), and am trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life.

Same old, really. Minus the bacon. But really, I just smelled bacon in the hallway and almost threw myself off the balcony in desperation. I clearly need to get my love of pork products under control.

When I think of why I even started this blog, I hardly recognize the person I was. I guess that's what happens. We all grow up (or don't) and figure it out (or not) and we laugh about the person we were at 25. I can't imagine going out all weekend or drinking as much as I did or having one night stands or just being the wild party girl.

I'm tired, I like my little, quiet life and all of the positive things that come out of not having lengthy bar tabs and teetering around in ridiculously high heels. I'm proud of all the traveling I've done and the amazing friendships I've maintained (somehow, regardless of my daily lunacy they stick with me). I'm proud of my career and my family and just, like, myself, regardless of the lack of progress in the romantic relationship department. I'm figuring it out, I am. One surefooted step at a time.

That said (more like rambled, sorry, too much coffee), I think this little corner of my life is officially over (as you may have noticed when I stopped blogging regularly and sucked at writing).

When I was 22 and blogs were just starting to be an actual thing, I read this one (I cannot remember what it was called for the life of me) about a girl in New York who was kind of a mess and she was hilarious and very honest about the wild life she led and her blog ended with her wedding. The 25 year old girl that started this shallow, ridiculous blog here definitely envisioned that sort of happy ending.

And I struggled with doing some sort of official 'close' to whatever this all of was, due to the lack of that sort of happy ending. After thinking about it, however, I've realized that even if it doesn't include a wedding or whatever, I am still ending this happily. I've worked hard to be happy and I am, and I am grateful for that.

If you're still reading this drivel, just know that it has been a really great experience blogging and having you read whatever it was I was complaining about. I have met so many incredible people through this, some of whom have become good friends that I talk to all the time. I never anticipated that. I've loved all the emails  and comments I've received with advice, constructive criticism, thoughtful insight and shout-outs. It's been a fun ride.

So, thank you for reading. Love you, mean it.

Oh, and The End.

xo d

d at 1:22 PM | 11 comments

Monday, September 24
I'm baaaaaack.

...and all of this happened.

but now I am back at work (day one, kill me). more to come shortly.

xo d

d at 5:30 PM | 2 comments

Tuesday, August 21

saved my unofficial anthem these days for last.

xo d

d at 11:47 AM | 2 comments

Saturday, August 11
...and I do, I really do.

At least reasonably so for being an old hag of 31 as of today. And to celebrate my 11,315th day on earth, I have a chat below with my 21 year old self.

Because that's not weird at all.

What I wish I could tell my 21 year old self.

  • You're NOT fat. In fact, go get spandex. Wear ALL of the spandex. Find the shortest skirts and wear those too. Put all cardigans in storage, you will need them in your late 20's when full blown arm hatred sets in.
  • Stop dying and highlighting your hair. While admirable, your life's goal should not be to be as blond as possible. Your hair will look like hay and it will give you the sads and then you will dye your hair out of a box for a while and will look like Snape (ugh, stop that too).
  • Start traveling now. You will have FAR more patience to backpack and stay in hostels and live off two dollars a day while young. Also, save some money dude, you are graduating from college and moving back to the Bay Area during the bust. You can use those six months unemployed in far better ways than watching Food Network on your ass at your parents house.
  • Get over yourself. Even though you don't start blogging in earnest until your mid-20's you will CRINGE when you read the archives. A break-up does not necessitate a gradual, yet fun, breakdown for a few YEARS. Stop it. Pull your pants up and get out there. Wear spandex, yes, still. 
  • Date everyone. Seriously, date EVERYONE. You're already going to do this, but actually enjoy it. Learn things about people, try new restaurants, don't scoff at the nice boy who wants to take you to a play, just go and enjoy yourself. Date a zillion different types of men.
  • Relax, you will figure it out someday. You will be successful and actually employ common sense and know how to complete sentences without using the word "like" sixty times. You will stop thinking inordinate amounts of whisky is a good idea and you will go to places and see things that will blow your mind. You will meet the boy in a bar and it won't be a fairy tale. It will be hard at times and real. You will know how much better that is. 

In real life, I am getting hammered at Outside Lands at this moment, stalking the lead singer of Geographer. If you see me waddling around, shoveling gourmet tater tots (they come with THREE DIFFERENT DIPPING SAUCES if that's not a fucking birthday, I don't know what is), say hi.

xo d

d at 12:24 PM | 6 comments

Tuesday, July 31
Reason numero uno why I LOVE being a grown up:

Booking insane flights because I'm bored at work and desperately need an adventure.

SFO - Pisa - Lucca (hanging with my fam there on their farm) - Venice - Northern coast of Croatia - Milan - Paris - SFO

Two glorious weeks this September (AND I get to see miss R who moved to Paris recently, so it's a win-win)!

Can't wait.

(seriously I've never been to Paris, so I'm pretty fucking excited)

d at 11:04 AM | 2 comments

Monday, July 30
  • I just had to post a sign over the recycling bin at work to remind people that food is not recyclable. 
  • This is because someone located a cupcake this morning, decided to eat half and then recycle the rest. 
  • I saw Batman this weekend with my sister and halfway through had a headache that rapidly turned into a full-blown migraine by the end. I blame Anne Hathaway's performance and the sodium I inhaled via a ridiculous amount of popcorn with fake-chunkler-butter.
  • I have become one of those eccentric weirdos that collect free or insanely cheap furniture from thrift stores, hoard it in my parent's garage and sometimes decide to paint it weird colors when they threaten to get rid of it all. I own a small, 1960's two-tiered table ($10 at goodwill, natch) that I will use as a bar next to my dining room* table. 
  • Let's just say I no longer wonder why the paint color I chose was on sale at Home Depot. The table is now the color of high-gloss baby poo.
  • There was also gold spray paint involved, because, why not.
xo d

* I don't have a dining room, I live in a small shoe box of a hovel and call the area next to the kitchen that is a few steps away from the couch the "dining room." Also, my building manager selectively wears her teeth. For reals, it's awesome.

d at 12:48 PM | 2 comments

Monday, July 23
We all know how much I detest pants, right? Pants are a horrific, ridiculous waste of a, well, waist. Nothing hurts my wine/cured meats/cheese/goldfish cracker-based gut more than a too-tight pair of goddamn body tourniquet pantalones. Am I right?

I used to be a normal human being who could totally wear pants out in public, to a person who has to size up like 87 sizes to just get them buttoned. WTF. I know I have gained weight (culprits listed above) and that I sporadically exercise because I am a lazy asshole, but this shit is getting ridiculous.

Try looking for shorts. SHORTS: the 30 year old chunkler's evil, evil enemy. Why is it that in shorts of all things, I have to size up like 32 sizes to get them to stop cutting off circulation in my upper thighs? I mean, take godforsaken Gap, I wear one size in the jeans and then like a 37XXL in the shorts. I don't understand what is happening.

This never happens with skirts or dresses. Noooo. They are nice, and friendly and caring.

They love me for who I am and are flattering even on my fattest days. They are thoughtful and know that when I'm feeling espesh bloated, I need some damn elastic-waisted cuddles. They know that is what I turn to them for, they know their come in when the very thought of pants makes me sweat and cry simultaneously and consider just not going to work that day to avoid anything that will make me wince whenever I sit down.

On a related tangent, these days, I have become really good at repeating outfits. I have like six go to things I wear on any given day and other than work people (I am now in a very small office and can't look completely insane), I just repeat the living fuck out of the following ensembles:

- dark jeans, flowy top 1
- dark jeans, flowy top 2
- black dress
- other black dress
- other other black dress
- navy skirt, flowy top 1
- black skirt, flowy top 2

THAT IS IT. I recently was on a business trip and I somehow got away with wearing outfetto numero uno for like four days straight. I never saw the same people and IT. WAS. GLORIOUS.

Because I also hate people, but that's for another post.


d at 8:09 AM | 2 comments

Wednesday, July 11
While I go back and forth in my crazy-brains whether or not to just let this sad site drift away into the great blog abyss, I guess I find things about once a month and I'm like, aha! I have something to say about that!

Lame. I know. And stupid and a waste because let's face it, no one is reading this anymore. And if you are, I love you. Glasses of happy hour chard on me. And I won't even cry on you or throw things! I've outgrown that phase (sort of).

Among other things, this week is the week of articles about snoopy wives and girlfriends. First Jamie Oliver's wife saying she checks his email and phone constantly to ensure he isn't cheating (probs with that slut Sandra Lee! Just kidding, I added the Sandra Lee part because speaking of crazy-brains, bitch is cray).

Then there is this post based on another article on the same topic.

Like most other things women do when they've got a case of the crazies, checking one's partner's email and texts totally freaks me out. I can safely say I have never checked a boyfriend's email or phone before. Mostly because I'm pretty dumb and bad at hacking passwords, but also because I just don't care. If I feel like there is cheating, I handle it the mature way - crying to all of my friends about it and then getting hammered and slurring out accusations to my beloved while, yes, crying. I did it at 16, I do it at 30. It works! No it doesn't.

First of all, I am not a jealous person. It takes a lot for me to think "bitch better get her (usually hotter) ass off my boyfriend" and even more for me to actually say something. Most of this comes from my mother, who is insane in all departments labeled "cheating". My parents have been married almost 35 years, faithfully, and my dad is obsessed with her and she still will do completely subtle things like rattle off adultery statistics she picked up from Lifetime Television.

Out of nowhere. At the dinner table.

I don't want to ever be that way, and alternately, I don't want to ever be the girlfriend who is worried enough to check their partner's email. Have I been cheated on? Yes! Of course I have. Have I cheated? Sort of. OK yes. I was young and like obsessed with Trainwreck, so yeah, I was dating someone else at the time and they sort of overlapped and whoops. Karma has kicked my ass for that discretion, so don't worry.

ANYWAY, this post is going nowhere and I guess what I'm wondering is if anyone has checked the texts or email and has actually found something substantial that proved they should have been doing so in the first place? If my bf (yes we're still together and things are going very well actually) checked my email I would be very skeeved out. And all he would find is emails from Weight Watchers and many PayPal receipts.

Ultimately, would you want to know if your sig other is cheating or has cheated on you?Would you be willing to go to the lengths of checking email and texts to get to the bottom of what he/she isn't telling you? Also do you love the movie The Last Kiss (both versions) as much as I do? Do you think that Zach Braff's gf in that movie is WAY too hot for him? Did you know she was on the Real World? Do I have ADD?

xo d

d at 11:35 AM | 19 comments

Monday, June 11
We all go through it, the back and forth, the weighing of pros and cons.

We do it with friendships, apartments, jobs, boyfriends.

We constantly compare and contrast, working to ensure that the good always outweighs the bad. The long hours are outweighed by recognition of a job well done. The absent friend outweighed by how awesome the time you do spend together is. The crap apartment building with a toothless landlord (jealous?) outweighed by its location in a great neighborhood you couldn't otherwise afford.

Thing is, when you think about it, you only really start to weigh pros and cons when you are overwhelmed. When you rationally (or often, irrationally in my case) feel fed up, sick of it, exhausted by the long hours and absent friend and shitty apartment.

When you're happy, none of that matters.

Back in February, I posted about a break up. And I didn't go into it in great detail, but it wasn't good and it wasn't an easy decision because at the time, there was one thing wrong. One somewhat major thing, but a fixable thing that he could make better.

As he showed he was working on it, and given his persistence and, you know, because I love him, the break up only lasted a month. We took it slow and eventually, we had each others' keys again and were making dinner every night and were right back where we were, minus the shitty parts that had caused us to break up in the first place.

But in the past month, I have started to weigh.

I don't know what happened or when I woke up questioning my happiness. I know that the past few weeks have held a lot of arguments. Arguments over things that I consider fundamental. Things that scare me because I know he is capable of them, but is his own worst enemy and gets in his own way.

There are few things more heartbreaking than loving someone and knowing what they're capable of and watching them not live up to that potential. There are few things more heartbreaking than the day you start to think in pros and cons, the day you start the back and forth calmly, until it becomes a mantra in your head that just will not go away.

As I go through this all and decide what to do, I can't help but feel sad and yet detached. I'm not ready to give up, but I also am coming to terms that it wouldn't be giving up. It would be moving on. There is a big difference. I just haven't decided if I'm ready for either.

d at 7:43 PM | 7 comments

Wednesday, May 9
"You won't do it at the right time. You'll be late. You'll be early. You'll get re-routed. You'll get delayed. You'll change your mind. You'll change your heart. It's not going to turn out the way you thought it would. It will be better."

- Kate Moller

d at 2:31 PM | 1 comments