Things I Learned in 2010

1. If you drink alcohol while taking medication that has a sticker on the bottle that says "Do NOT drink alcohol while taking this medication," you will wind up passed out with your head on a restaurant table and an 11 year old girl on your lap. 
2. Being a vegetarian is not for everyone. Despite the bold-fonted claim on the box, soy bacon does not taste like genuine, deliciously fatty, pig bacon. Some things just can't be made healthy. 
3. The more you declare that you will NOT be drinking on any specific night, the drunker you will be by the end of the night.
4. Cuddling with a puppy at night sometimes just makes you even more lonely. And sometimes makes you wonder why you would ever trade it in for a boy.
5. Trying to lose weight makes you gain weight.
6. Trying NOT to date anyone makes more people want to date you.
7. Trying to be yourself is much harder (at first) than trying to be someone else. It is, however, a much better way to live life.
8. Sometimes I wonder why the fuck I am working hard every day, trying to study and go back to school, when the cast of the Jersey Shore pulls in millions for getting shit-faced and acting like fucking idiots. 
9. Workout dvds that promises to give you a six pack, don't produce results just by purchasing them. Instead, they make you poor. Then sit on top of your television and make you feel guilty every time you sit down on the couch to watch reality tv with a bag of Tostedos in your hand. 
10. Boys who cry the first weekend you hang out with them should usually be avoided.
11. Boys who never cry at all should also be avoided.
12. Flirting with other people's boyfriends is sometimes difficult to avoid, but it should be on all accounts. 
13. "Should be's" shouldn't always be followed.
14.  Walking in heels for longer than 10 minutes is actually possible. 
15. The way things works out sometimes is exactly opposite to the way you want them to work out, and usually after time goes by, you're thankful for this. 
16. Just because something doesn't happen at the time you think it should/will, doesn't mean it will never happen.
17. Drunk texting is hilarious...when other people do it. 
18. I should hire someone to physically remove my cell phone from my hand after I have had five drinks.
19. Hooking up on an actual beach is not as hot as you think. It's just sandy. 
20. If you pretend like you know what is going on, and you look like you know what is going on, people believe you.
21. There are an endless list of things to worry about. None of them get any better by worrying. And most of the things you worry most about, never even happen. 
22. I can't think of many things better to do on any given night than making out with someone.
23. The last week of December, you inevidibly take a moment to wonder how you didn't do everything you set out to do on Jan. 1st. It's also important to remember all the things you did that you never imagined you could do.

Andy Puts on a Show

I showed up to the Holiday Party on Friday night and Andy was already wasted. I haven't seen him in about 2 weeks, not since he sent me an email at 3am explaining that he would no longer be able to have any form of communication with me, asking me to please not try to get in touch with him anymore because it is too hard for him. Then, he got mad at me when I listened to him and didn't answer. 

The first hour or so of the party was manageably awkward. He asked me if I wanted a piece of gum, but said the only flavor he had was Mint Chocolate Chip. I pulled out an identical pack from my purse and then he got teary and gave me a pitiful look and so I asked him if he wanted to hang out sometime soon or if I was still not allowed to talk to him. He said he'd like that. Then he told me that he got booked for a Chanel informal event and some sneaker ad. Oh, and he's started smoking weed again now that he's depressed.

The second hour of the party was slightly different. After consuming four more mixed drinks, he began a sentence talking about his sister's new apartment and ended it with how I am a fucking bitch. Ah, so much for a momentary lapse of not liking him. I thanked him, saying that I had almost missed him for a second and I appreciated him making things normal again. He did not care for my sarcasm and launched into a tirade of why I was a horrible person because I did not want to love him and marry him and spend the rest of my life with him (we "dated" for about 3 weeks.) Then, he turned on the heel of his shiny, pointed toe shoes and stormed away. I shrugged and started talking to the guy next to me, while Andy paraded around in my peripheral trying to hug every girl he could find, and then staring bitterly at me over each girl's shoulder. 

An hour after that, he got kicked out of the bar. He swore he did not do anything, but his knuckles were bleeding when I found him in the parking lot, so who knows what actually happened. I'd taken the night off from drinking, so I offered him a ride home. I wish I could be a "fucking bitch" at times like these, and just let him walk his drunk, temperamental ass home in the cold, but I'm a big softy, so I walked him to be car and shoved him in the passenger seat and told him if he was going to puke he had to stick his head out the window. An hour later I finally kicked him out of my car after sitting outside his apartment building trying to navigate my way through his attempt at a serious conversation. (I should write a post about what happened with us, but I get annoyed even just thinking about taking the time to write about him, so I can't promise I will ever get around to it.)

I feel bad letting someone down. I hate letting people down. I have the what-can-i-do-to-make-you-happy disorder...but learning to find my own voice and to figure out what I actually want requires me to do what is best for me, even if it pisses people off. If Andy could have stayed "good andy" and not changed into a dramatic, crying, jealous mess with the temper of a pit bull, then maybe I would give him another chance. His shit, I've realized, is his shit to work out on his own, and it doesn't have anything to do with me. So for now I am going to enjoy the comical twist on the evening; him trying to say recite a Shakespeare sonnet to explain the way he felt, him cursing at the door handle when he couldn't open the door (even though I kept trying to explain to him that it was locked) and him answering his phone when some girl called and pretending it was his mother when I could clearly see his caller id. 

I'm ok with being the fucking bitch that drives home alone at the end of the night, instead of the people-pleaser who stays over at some ranting boy's house just to make him happy.

Naughty Dreams

Anyone ever have a really sexual dream about someone and then feel strangely awkward around them the next time you have to see them? 

I had a dream about my friend Kush the other night and then I saw him today and my face kept feeling all hot and my back was itchy and I was like what the fuck is going on? He looked at me and all of a sudden I remembered an image of him naked. I have never seen him naked, but I dreamt it in such precise detail that my body honestly believes that I've hooked up with him. 

I made the mistake of telling him that I had a dream about him....an invitation apparently to start talking about sex. Now he won't stop texting me and trying to talk dirty. Maybe I should just hook up with him to see if he's as good in real life as he was in my dream. It would be strictly scientific based research. He's getting a little inappropriate though so I think I'll just let it be a strictly dream specific relationship. 

Don't Call Me Your Girlfriend

Boyfriend Remote Control by m-c via Flickr

Is it now the norm to assume you are dating someone after hanging out for a few weeks?

I'm wanting the answer, in this situation, to be no. This is absolutely ridiculous....right? Just cause you are hanging out with someone for a little while, doesn't mean that you are officially boyfriend/girlfriend, I mean, there's supposed to be a awkward conversation before this takes change takes place. One of those, soooo what are we? talks. 

The problem is, that if you are the one not wanting to be official, the simple fact of bringing this topic of conversation up, even if only to say that you do not want to be dating anyone and are not comfortable with the idea of being exclusive, automatically makes things more serious. 

Instead of taking this route, I have been taking the much more mature (ha!) path of simple hint dropping. Such as: getting drunk and dancing to songs about being a single girl, talking to other boys, and emphatically denying to anyone and everyone that I am dating. As long as I say I'm single, then I'm single. So....I'm single goddammit.

And it's not my fault if someone misunderstands and thinks that I am just saying that I don't want a boyfriend just to be cute and funny and hard to get, thereby tricking them into wanting to date me, which apparently is every girl's only desire. 

Yes, in case you are wondering, this is what I am sitting here trying to convince myself of right now...while pretending to study...while Brad is sulking in the cubical next to me... after following me to the library...because I refuse to kiss him in public. 

This Weekend's EXcapades

My Plan Before Seeing Jeffrey (my ex who I still talk to...yeah, one of those situations) For The First Time in 6 Months:

• Lose 10 lbs. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I know. But why do we always think that if only we could just lose a little weight we'd look smoking hot and drive him crazy??
• Get dressed up and go out with my friends. Instead of driving right over to his house as soon as we were both in town
• Talk to every other boy besides him. Not in an obvious way, but just in an 'I'm sorry, I'd love to talk, but this other hot guy is just so funny I can't break myself away from him right now.'  aka "see how many other guys want me??"
• NOT call him or make any effort to see him. Wait for him to keep trying and trying to see me.
• Not hook up with him. Maybe tease him a little, but then get up and walk out, or tell him that we're not dating so I can't do anything with him. 

What Actually Happened:

• Got anxious and ate everything I could get my hands on for the past two weeks, resulting in feeling bloated and hardly fitting into any of my jeans. 
• Got dressed up and went out with my other friends. Got drunk and hung out with lots of guys....but he didn't show up so all I did was put on a show.
• Ignored his text messages....until about 5 drinks in....then I sent him about 50 saying how much I wanted to meet up with him and tackkle the shet outta of hmi. 
• Ignored him the next day to try to salvage my pride.
• Woke up naked in his bed the morning after that. Doing everything BUT have sex is totally the same as not hooking up at alllllll....right?
• Hung out with him all day Saturday and blew off one of my guy friends because I couldn't drag myself away. 
• Made plans for him to come visit me after I go back home....which I somehow have to get out of if I'd like to avoid a potentially masterfuck of a mess with the boys I hang out near me. 
• Told him I loved him
• NEVER mentioned how I am happier now that we are broken up....never mentioned the fact that we are, in fact, actually, seriously, and honestly broken up....never tried to talk about anything serious....

Soooooooo.....my plans didn't really work out the way that I wanted them to, but when do they ever turn out the way you imagine they will in these situations?? Seems there's some people who just have that hold on you. The funny thing about seeing Jeffrey this time though was that I spent a lot of time, when I was with him, trying not to hear that tiny voice inside my head that said very matter of factly that I am over him and don't feel the same way. I guess it's about time my feelings for him changed. 

It's funny how sometimes our heart is stage behind. When things got bad and he didn't treat me well, all I could think of was how great he had been before. It was like I didn't believe he was turning into an asshole because I still saw him as a great guy. Now he's great again, but all I can think of is how much he hurt me before. I don't believe any of the nice things he does or says because I still see him as the asshole. 

So I still havn't broken the hold yet, but I think maybe it's a start, and for the sake of trying to be on my own side I'm going to cut myself some slack and go back to my life of staying busy and avoiding any type of serious relationship, knowing that even if he doesn't know it I've got the upper hand back in a strange sort of way. 

Abbreviated November Recap

WOW November, where did you go. I am furiously trying to stay in denial that another month is flying by and that winter is coming. Just to recap, I have only kissed three different boys this past month, received two horribly sappy, overly dramatic emails from Andy, added one more boy to the list and dropped one completely. I haven't fallen on any runways lately, but I did gain 5 pounds as a result of trying to lose 5 pounds before a meeting with the Agents. Awesome. 

Got myself into a fun little pickle last weekend when two of the boys I am crushing on ended up at the same bar at the same time. When you find yourself in such a situation, the best possible solution is probably NOT to drink too much, however, this is also the least likely thing to happen, so you can guess the number of drinks I had....or at least try to guess. I'm not sure the answer tho, so all you need to know is that it was enough to decide that the best thing to do would be to meet another boy and talk to him instead of either of the two boys that came to see me. A great solution. Boy #3 turned out to be pretty cute (when I looked him up on Facebook the next morning so that I could remember what he looked like) Fun night. 

In an attempt to top off my performance, I vowed NOT to drink on Thanksgiving eve so that I wouldn't be hungover at my grandparents house in front of my entire family. Vowing not to drink is pretty much the most surefire way to wind up wasted off my ass by the end of the night. In this case, I had to call my mother to pick me up as I was wandering around a neighborhood at 2am, trying to walk the 7 miles back to my grandparents house. Needless to say, I spent the day trying not to throw up on my grandparents fancy new carpet while I laid on the couch in front of my family and pretended like my back was hurting so I couldn't get up and walk around. So much for not being hungover. At least it's a way not to overeat on Thanksgiving....not one I would recommend though. 

To summarize, I have been awesome at being a mature adult lately, am going to get in trouble with the Agents when they take measurements this week, and have not done much to help the bags growing under my eyes, or to convince my family that I have my life together......but at least I've been having fun. 

Out Shit Showed by Rito

Whenever I worry about my drinking habits or think that my life is in shambles, I spend a few days with my friend, Rito (short for Burrito, the explanation to which involves a Taco Bell, a lot of liqueur and not enough time in this post to explain) and then I feel much better about myself. 

I went back to my college to meet some friends this weekend. Going back to places has always been weird for me. I have found that in my life I spend a lot of time exhausting one place, using every piece of myself up until I have no other option but to run from it as fast and as far away as possible. When I leave a place, I'm done with it. I put that part of my life away and I don't feel any need to go back. I forget about that person. In college, I was shy, insecure and spent a lot of time depressed without anyone knowing. I studied hard, I won a lot of awards, and I spent my Friday nights in one of three places: the gym, the library, or in bed with my boyfriend watching a movie. 

If I got attention from boys in college, I was either oblivious to it or bluntly honest that I was in a relationship and not interested in getting to know anyone new. Now, however, I strangely think that I should be friends with everyone. Give me a few drinks and I find a way to be the center of attention, and I usually get myself in trouble by the end of the night, and wake up in the morning feeling nauseous with a mixture of happiness and shame. 

Rito, however, is a one woman circus of a shit show. I have seen her get blackout drunk and try to beat up a tree, pee in a boy's bed that she was trying to hook up with and puke in a washing machine and then do her laundry in it the next morning without noticing, all in the same weekend. Putting aside the more serious implications of the fact that she has some deep rooted issues and doesn't feel the slightest bit ashamed or embarrassed no matter how blackout she gets or who's bed she lands in on her downward spiral, I fucking love this girl. 

She totally out shit showed me this weekend and I am grateful for it in a humorous but slightly selfish way.

• I got asked to please calm down at the football game because I was waving my white pompom in the faces of everyone around me. I was not in my assigned seat and I did not know any of these people. BUT RITO missed the bleachers as she was jumping up and down chanting, and winded up sprawled out on her back across three rows of people. 
• I spent the next ten minutes trying to convince the security guard that neither of us had been drinking, when he tried to kick her out of the game, BUT RITO looked up at him from where she was lying across some stranger's lap and said, "Nope, I'm wasted!" She then turned and waved at everyone as she was escorted from the game while I stayed back long enough to get the boy's number that was sitting next to me. 
• I tried to sneak into a tailgate on the walk home and pretend that I knew an entire crowd of people because they had steak (yes, steak) and I was starving. BUT RITO apparently waited outside the popular ice cream joint on campus and told people she was there to hold their ice cream cones for them while they found a seat. Someone was actually stupid enough to hand it to her, and she tried to turn and sprint away with it but was caught because she tripped and fell in a bush. She swears that she didn't actually eat any ice cream, but she had a giant chocolate stain on her sweatshirt and sticky shit in her hair that I hope to God was ice cream. 
• I got cornered by an obnoxious boy at the bar after the game who's pickup line was to tell me how rich he was, leading to me tell him that I wasn't fucking impressed and I would appreciate if he left me alone (after he introduced me to his hot friend who I was trying to talk to anyway.) BUT RITO made out with the kid in the back corner of the bar so that he would buy her blueberry flavored beer. 
• I flirted back with one of my good friend's boyfriend and secretly held his hand while we were on the dance floor, BUT RITO got kicked out of the bar for dry humping a speaker and then got back in line and tried to pretend like she was a different person so she could get back in. 
• I called Jeffrey (my ex) on my way home from the bar, and embarrassingly admitted that all I ever do is think about him and that I know we are going to end up together somehow, BUT RITO called her ex-boyfriend 37 times. Yes, 37. Left him 5 voicemails and two barely legible text messages expressing her hatred for him. 
• I woke up with a headache and a sore throat to the sound of Rito puking in a cardboard box in the hallway of our old house. 

I'm not sure how she survives living in NYC, but somehow she does. As we said goodbye, I welcomed the long drive home so that I could reflect on my immature behavior and give myself a mighty dose of self-loathing capped off with a promise to get my shit together and stop thinking it's ok to flirt with other people's boyfriends just because they flirt with me.....but Rito put on her oversized sunglasses as she told me that she was glad she took it easy this weekend and only blacked out one night instead of three in a row because hopefully she wouldn't be hungover on Monday morning when she taught her pre-school kids how to draw turkeys by tracing their hand. 

Locked Myself in A Stairwell For A While

Showed up early for my fit modeling job this morning. I was so proud of myself. I even had time to stop for coffee before making small talk with the doorman and heading up to the 13^th floor thinking about what a great impression I was going to make with this new client. Then…I locked myself in the stairwell.

The last thing I remember thinking as I pushed through the door on the 13^th floor to head to the 12^th floor and meet with the woman who would take me to my dressing room was that she would probably be even more impressed with me because I had taken the stairs instead of the elevator. Obviously, this would prove that I was a serious athlete, and seeing as I was working for a huge athletic company, I was totally going to earn even more cool points. I love how my dorky mind works.

So toting my small rolling suitcase full of shoes and assorted bras and leggings that I am required to bring to every job, I skipped down the flight of stairs only to find the door at the 12 floor locked. Shit. I lugged the suitcase back up to the 13^th floor. Also locked. Double shit. Lugged it back to the 12^th, maybe I was just being stupid and it would open this time. No luck. Down to the 11^th floor. Locked. 10^th floor. Locked. Shit. Shit. Shit. At this point, I pull out my cell phone to see if I have a number for the woman I’m supposed to meet with to tell her what has happened. No cell phone service in the stair well. Fuck.

I’m starting to sweat now, of course, and I’m preparing myself for the reality that I’m going to have to lug my bag down 13 flights of stairs and hope that the bottom floor is open so that I can take the elevator back up to the 12^th floor. I climb back up to the 13^th floor for a last stitch effort and begin knocking on the door. No one hears me. I go down to the 12^th floor and start banging this time. I hear a voice. Obnoxiously, I start yelling “excuse me” and THANK GOD someone opens the door.

“Are you Ally?” the girl asks.

“Yep, just locked myself in the stairwell, sorry.”

“It’s ok.” The girl says, laughing as I follow her through the hall and toward the dressing room. “We were all wondering what happened to you when you didn’t get off the elevator.”

“Yeah, I thought it would be quicker to take the stairs,” I said, “Silly me!”

Way to make a SUPER impression on your first day with a new client Ally.

Needless to say, I actually enjoyed working for them and think that I was able to salvage the experience. They seemed to like me, even walked me to the elevator so I didn’t get stuck when I left; and they liked the fact that I looked like an actual athlete instead of a toothpick. It’s funny that I now think of that as an insult when it used to be a compliment to me. They meant it as a compliment, but all I can hear is that I am fat. Such a fucked up business. When The Agents say that I look athletic, they mean that I look too big. Same goes for commercial, curvy, busty, healthy, strong…..all of which I used to think were positive qualities but have now been conditioned to feel embarrassed about. 

Oh Brad, You're On The Bubble

It's happening. I'm getting sick of Brad. I don't know how or why or when it started but I can feel myself pulling away. Maybe it's because we have been spending too much time together. Maybe it's because he told me about a conversation he had with his best friend about his feelings for me. Maybe it's because he called me the other day to ask what my plans for New Years Eve were. (My response to which was that it was too far ahead to know if I'd be around) Whatever the reason, I can feel myself getting frustrated with things he does that only a few weeks ago were things I loved about him. I can feel the restlessness eating away at me from the inside. I can feel my resistance each time he asks me to do something growing. 

Maybe I just need a few days to have time to myself and figure things out. I love being single and I am probably just freaking out because he is starting to make it feel like we're in a relationship. I hate relationships. When you're in a relationship you have to break up. It's so much easier to just stay single. I was in a relationship for so fucking long and I know that I need time to be on my own so that I can figure out what I want and who I am without a boy in my life. Is this too much to ask?

I don't want to lose him and I don't want to fuck things up because I know he's an awesome guy. He's so much of the things I want, and yet I still find a reason (for no reason at all) to feel like something is missing and to keep myself from falling. As much as I am probably being a pussy here and just afraid of getting hurt again, I feel like I need to trust my gut and continue to give myself time. 

Halloween Costume Fail

Halloween. The holiday where 90% of girls dress take advantage of the opportunity to dress like skanks, while the other 10% complain about girls dressing like skanks.  My absolute favorite part about Halloween when I was in college was to sit on my front porch on Sunday morning and watch everyone on their super awkward walks of shame. If you think someone couldn't look more ridiculous wearing a slutty nurse costume, you're wrong.  Wearing the top half of a slutty nurse costume and a pair of XL sweatpants, walking barefoot down the sidewalk, carrying a pair of platform heels and a crumpled up nurse hat is way more ridiculous. It's not just the girls though. Last year I witnessed a very hungover Santa doing a walk of shame. And I saw a guy attempt to convince the cashier at the mini mart by my house that he was a policeman, and not on his way home from a crazy night dressed up like one. (The plastic handcuffs in his pocket were a bit of a give-a-way)

Since I graduated this passed year and no longer get to enjoy this awesome ritual, I decided to post some other riciulousness in the true spirit of Halloween.

Shockingly bad

He'll be his own if he wears this.

Please, God, don't let anyone need to
speak to an operator.

I have no words for this. Other than I
wish Andy would have been hired to
model for this job. 

Hilarious.

"Ann Rexia" This is disgusting.

I'm not sure how I noticed this,
but this guy has the creepiest
look on his face. 

What a tool. 

Holy Shit this is bad. 

I hope he got paid well for this gig. 

For more, check out these sights: 

http://babyhatchetblog.wordpress.com/2006/09/26/inappropriate-halloween-costumes-3/

http://shine.yahoo.com/event/halloween/12-ridiculous-nsfw-halloween-costumes-for-guys-2404367#photoViewer=12

http://www.prankplace.com/subcategory.aspx?d=Obnoxious-Costumes&c=242

http://www.refinery29.com/the-most-ridiculous-sexy-halloween-costumes.php/slideshow/1/image/1/#image-15

The Only Thing Scarier than Joan Rivers as Herself....

...is Joan Rivers dressed up like Snookie from the Jersey Shore. Yikes. Out of everything wrong with this picture, I'm going to say it's the hair that needs a little work. Maybe one less shot of steroids to the Bump-It would do?

Backwards Love Games

Next time I meet a guy and he annoys the shit out of me and I know right away that I have no future with him and I want him to leave, I'm going to pretend like I'm in love with him. I'm going to throw myself at him and treat him wonderfully and be super nice. I'll cook him food and leave him cute little notes to find when I'm not around. I'll listen to him when he talks and I will try to open up to him. I'll tell him that he's the one man in the world for me. This, I have found through the research on relationships I have personally conducted, will make me invisible to him. He will not notice me and he will leave me alone.

In return, next time I really like a guy, I'm going to act like I don't. I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want and purposely NOT do nice things for him. I'm going to forget to call him back. Going to leave his text messages unanswered. Going to blow him off every once in a while. I'm going to tell him that I don't want a relationship. That I love being single and I want to remain single and that I'm not attracted to him and we have no future together. This, apparently, makes boys fall in love with me, write me email after desperate email confessing such love, and hold on for months on end just trying to make things work with me.

As satirical as this rant is meant to be, the amount of truth it holds in my life right now is sad. Funny, but sad. Why does love seem to work so backwards sometimes?

Brett Favre Wrangler Commercial SNL

Long, Fun, Tiring, Boring, Exciting Day

I started the day wearing a $5,000 designer dress in a studio set up in a photographer's living room. I ended it doing side volley's in the middle of a parking lot, wearing an all black Nike outfit while a different photographer's assistant tossed a soccer ball to me.

In between, I wore seven different outfits. I had my hair pin-straight and down in my face. Curled and teased into a fro. Pinned on the top of my head. Pulled back in a ponytail. I had bright red lips, nude lips, bleached out eyebrows, smokey eyes, no makeup, pale skin, tan skin. I shot in a boxing ring, an old abandoned gym, a conservatory, a park and a car. I was too big. I was too small.  I wondered why the hell I am a model. And I thought about how much I love my job. 

Sixteen hours on set. Home finally. Time to pass out. Work at the gym tomorrow. Oh life. <3

Two Hours of Sleep a Night Ain't Cuttin' It

This whole thinking I can do everything and be fine with no sleep is finally starting to catch up with me. I woke up this morning at 6am and I couldn't swallow. Found myself sitting on the floor of the gymnasium, trying to keep myself from blacking out, at quarter to 7, while trying to set up stations for a fitness boot camp I started today. 

The boot camp did not go quite as I had planned. I went into it thinking it would be super easy. I've run this kind of thing a hundred times before, so what the hell did I have to be nervous about? I started the class with 15 people and ended with only 12. Apparently, I can't make housewives between the ages of 45- 60 do the same workouts I did when I was a collegiate athlete. I'm not saying this to be a bitch, I was mortified. I could tell by people's reaction that it was not going well, and I kept trying to fix things and adjust but nothing was working. I honestly just wanted to walk out of the gym.

From the gym I had to go straight to a meeting. I got home around noon, crawled back into bed with a slight fever and a box of tissues, and didn't wake up until it was dark outside my window. I'm usually not a person who can nap longer than ten minutes so I was shocked when I woke up. 

The rest of my week is already getting crazy. Meetings tomorrow, then working 7 hours at the gym. (I'm starting to think the gym is not going to work out. The Agents are going to send me to another market soon, most likely, so I'll be gone again for a few weeks and I'm not sure how the gym will take it.) I'm double booked with shoots on Wednesday, castings Thursday and then work at the gym, and possibly another shoot on Friday. Saturday I have work all day and three places I have to be on Saturday night, which means that I'm going to have another week of letting people down. 

Andy sent me an email today asking if my phone is broken because I haven't answered him in a few days. Matthew sent me a text asking if I would mail back the CD he gave me because he's tired of me blowing him off. I have three unheard voicemails from Jeffrey. Two from my most regular photographer.    An unpaid credit card bill. Bags under my eyes. A scale that seems to get meaner each time I step on it lately. And a mother who keeps nagging at me to go to sleep and stop trying to do everything all the time. 

Right now, all I can think about is how badly I want to drop everything and go to Florida. Maybe I could buckle down for two weeks, get myself in to shape, clear my head, study for my personal training certificate, and come back energized and confident and then my career will take off. Oh how I love magical thinking. 

Tonight, I guess I have to be ok with not being able to do everything or please everyone. I can't figure it all out right now, so it's time to go to sleep and try again tomorrow. 

Four Crazy Moments of my Friday

The photographer of my photo shoot was the official photographer of Manchester United.  Woke up at 5am Friday morning to shower and get downtown by 7am for my photoshoot. We met at the photographers studio to get ready before heading out to our location, and while I was getting my face painted (aka my makeup done) I listened to the stylist talk to the photographer about all of the crazy things he has done, including shooting for major magazines and winning an Emmy. The makeup artist kept repeating everything the photographer said to me in a low whisper, just to make sure I heard, but I guess my lack of sleep effected my excitement. Then, as I was looking at the titles of the books on his book shelves I noticed a book about Alex Ferguson. I asked the photog if he was a Man U fan, and he told me that he was their official photographer for three seasons. Whattttttt??? I might not give a shit about a lot of things I'm supposed to give a shit about in the modeling world, but I was instantly impressed. I talked to him about Rooney (his decision to stay at Man U and his trouble with prostitutes mostly) and the guy was shocked that I actually knew something about soccer other than the fact that David Beckham is married to a Spice Girl. 

I had to run half a mile in platform boots to buy a pair of silver strappy shoes before my runway show.  Went straight from photo shoot to runway show on Friday. Showed up (barely) on time for rehearsal only to learn that they had switched the four looks that I was going to be wearing and now needed me to wear silver shoes instead of black. Searched in my bag to find only one silver strappy show. Fuck. Not having the right shoes is a great way to not get booked again. Told them it must be in my car. Ran back to my car. No second silver shoe. Looked up on my iphone and found a Payless about a half mile away. Started running. Weaved in and out of people on the street, but made pretty good time. Found a pair of silver strappys for less than 20 bucks. Bought them, put the box under my arm like it as a football and started running back. Made it back just in time for rehearsal to start. Sweating like a pig. (Not very attractive) Changed into my first look. Walked down the runway one time in my new shoes. Came back to change. Was told that they were going to switch my outfit again. Didn't need the silver shoes anymore. Black shoes would work fine. 

My dad got a little tipsy and almost dropped my brother's birthday cake on someone's head.  From the runway show, I raced back home from the city and went straight to Everett and Tula's show. It was Everett's birthday on Friday. My parents got him a cake so that we could have everyone sing to him after they finished playing. My dad took advantage of the $25 all-you-can-drink deal and got a little tipsy. During their last song, he went running back to the bar to get the cake ready, then proceeded to carry the cake, lit with 27 candles, through the tables full of people. For some crazy reason, he hoisted the cake over his head and held it up as he walked. I guess he was worried people wouldn't see the flaming sheet moving through the dark bar? Whatever the reason, it was funny enough just to see him perform this stunt, but then, things got even better when he walked through the final two tables. The cake suddenly slide off the cardboard cutout plate he was carrying and for a moment appeared as it would would certainly fall directly on the head of the woman sitting innocently at the front table. Somehow, he managed to get a shoulder beneath the cake, bracing its fall and then recovering the cake, miraculously keeping all but two candles lit while he finished the walk to the stage as if nothing had happened. I almost peed myself laughing, especially because his black shirt was decorated with frosting and candle wax stains for the rest of the evening. I see where I get my gracefulness from. 

Had a crazy dream during the middle of a late night conversation with Brad while we were laying in his bed cuddling. I was exhausted. I warned him that I was not going to be able to stay awake. Brad started reading me a letter he had written to his Uncle about me. It was incredibly nice, but it led to a conversation about us and where we were headed. I could feel myself struggling to stay awake. All of a sudden Brad asked me what I was talking about. What do you mean we should invite Obama and Trader Joe? It took me a minute to figure out that I was dreaming and that what I had just said made absolutely no sense what so ever. I spent a few seconds trying desperately to think of some way that I could convince him that I was not crazy, but I finally gave up and just started laughing and admitted that I must have been dreaming. Whoops. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to hear the end of that one for a while. 

Rock On Ms. Swift

So, the rumor mill is buzzing right now about Taylor Swift's new song, Dear John, and the connection to John Mayer. I am resisting the urge to delve into any type of speculation (at least, I'm trying.) The lyrics seem to speak for themselves. 

I am trying not to let that voice inside of me escape right now and ask Taylor (like the rest of the world, as if we somehow know her, or are entitled to have an opinion about her life, just because she is famous) What the fuck were you thinking? John Mayer. Really?

No sooner do I think this, than I want to smack myself for falling into the victim blaming mentality of our society. How many of us would like to think we would be able to avoid a situation like this, or that we are somehow above it? I am one of them. And how many of us have been there, wondering what the fuck happened? Yes, I have been there too. 

I really don't want to know whether or not she had sex with the creep. Whatever happened, I applaud Taylor for writing this song and (most importantly) for putting it out there. Knowing full well what the media was going to do, she still released it. Brave girl. And as for the John in the song, whoever he may be, I'd just like to say that I'm on Taylor's side. You're a schmuck. Fuck you from all of us. 

What I love is the way she is able to create something out of  real experiences, good or bad. The fact that she is now a huge celebrity and that this song is probably about another huge celebrity, and yet I read it (not a huge celebrity) and could relate to it immediately, shows her talent as a writer and as an artist. Rock on Ms. Swift. 

Days Like This Are What Keep Me Sane

Me: Where are we going?
Brad: Somewhere far away.
Me: Nice. I just have to be back for my shoot tomorrow.
Brad: I'll try.

Me: I hate feeling guilty every time I eat.
Brad: Fuck The Agents. You're fucking gorgeous.
Me: I wasn't fishing for a compliment. I was just saying.
Brad: I wasn't giving you one. I was just saying. 

 

Me: Let's steal this boat and go sailing.
Brad: The water is freezing, are you going to
swim out there to get it?
Me: Sure! It would be worth it.
Brad: You do realize there's no wind.
We'd just sit there in the boat.
Me: Let's do it.

Me: Can we stay here forever?
Brad: Sure.
Me: Seriously. I don't want to leave.
Brad: Ok. We'll stay forever. But then,
I have to take you home.
You have a shoot tomorrow morning.

Brad: Beautiful perm on that dog.
Me: You're such a dork.
Brad: Then why are you laughing?
Me: Because you're funny.

Brad: Why are you taking a picture of that?
Me: I donno. I feel like it
Brad: Does it make sense?
Me: Kinda, until you think about it.
Brad: I like you.

Prior to our swinging contest. Which I won. 

Me: "No Can't's Allowed."
Brad: Or "Never Say Can't."
Me: I like my version better.

Me: Let's steal this one and go out on the lake!
Brad: I think it has a hole in it.
Me: You're such a wuss.
You just don't want to get wet.
Brad: Yep.

Beaver did some damage.

Me: Why does this sign make me sad?
Brad: Because the sun is setting and we
have to leave soon?
Me: Why can't this just last forever?
Brad: Because then it wouldn't be special.

Me: How bout this boat? It's our last chance!
Brad: There's no oars.
Me: We could use our hands.
Brad: I like you.

Me: This is seriously gorgeous.
Brad: I agree.
Me: Look at the lake. Not at me.
Brad: I can't.

Me: You look cute when you cook me dinner.
Brad: When don't I look cute?
Me: Good point.

Me: We fogged up the windows! I've never done that.
Brad: Me either. I'll never look at Target the same.
Me: We're in a Walmart parking lot silly.
Brad: Oh. Same thing.
Me: I like you.

Me: This was seriously the best day.

Brad: Yeah, it's one of those days that you save and then bring it out later when you have a bad day. 

Me: Yeah, you're giving me a lot of those lately. 

Twenty Ways The Agents Avoid Saying the F-Word

Image by daniellehelm via Flickr

The Agents never call anyone fat. At least, not in those words and not to their face. They have learned clever, more effective ways of getting their point across.

1. They make you walk between the desks of The Agency in a bikini. Each person you pass will stare at every part of your body except for your face. They will scrunch up their nose and forehead, as if pondering, what is missing here? hmmmm... This will inspire them to dig out their measuring tape. (which sometimes is hanging around their neck. A convenient fashion statement) and then, ah-hah! you really gotta work on these hips of yours. 
2. Another tape measure trick. After measuring you, they will leave their thumb on your number and show you. Then, they move their thumb down two inches and show you again saying, try to stay right around here from now on.
3. You're looking a little too commercial lately. We'd like you to look more high fashion.
4. Have you tried a detox? Detox is code for not eating. Of course, they can't say not to eat anything, but they can say to go on a two-week cleanse.
5. Email: We noticed you were drinking a martini at last night's party. We weren't sure if you knew, because drinks can be misleading, how many calories are in one martini. A good drink to try is a vodka and soda. 
6. We don't want you to lose weight. We just want you to lose about 3 inches off your waist. Don't even step on a scale, just focus on those inches. 
7. If someone skinnier than you is around, they will rave about her. Look how she has that separation between her legs! Look at those arms. Oh my god your stomach seems to go inward. 
   Then, they will look at you and ask, How is your body doing lately?
8. Email: The holidays are coming! We wanted to wish you all a happy and healthy season. And remember, these times are especially important to eat healthy and get extra workouts in because Spring Runway season is right around that corner. 
9. Your body looks ok, but no desserts for a few months. 
10. Have you tried lifting lighter weights for more reps? Or walking instead of running? You need to tone your muscle, not build it.
11. We can't send you on any castings until you get your hips down another two inches. We really want to promote you, but you need to do your part here. 
12. During an instructional class: A funny thing happens after a girl signs a contract, she goes back to eating like she did before she signed. We see her after a few weeks and she looks bloated and we can't send her out for any jobs. We call this, Lazy Model Syndrome. 
13. The anorexic look is in. We don't want you to be anorexic. We just want you to look that way. 
14. You lost ten pounds! You look great! Oh my God, can you imagine how great you would look if you lost another 5?!?
15. Overheard after girl leaves: Did you see the size of that ass?? Girl wants to be a model with an ass like that?
16. Email: A Major Client is coming to town for a casting in two weeks. If you are getting this email it's because we really want you to look your best for them and want to give you enough time to make sure you can do this. 
17. After printing you 100 comp cards: we listed your hips as a 34.5 and your waist as a 24.5 because it looks so much better. If you get booked, you have to be at these measurements, so the faster you can do this, the better. 
18. We don't need you to lose weight, we just need you to tighten. Tighten. Tighten. Your stomach especially, just needs to be much tighter. (While speaking, The Agent will hold up their hands in front of them, like 2' apart from each other, and as they saw tighten, they will bring their hands slowly together, until they make a small circle with their fingers.)
19. On location of a shoot: You're going to have to stand to the side. Suck your stomach in. Your butt is hanging way out. You're looking a little too butch right now and we need you a little more soft and feminine. 
20. You have two weeks to lose two inches or we are going to have to re-evaluate your future here and re-think your contract with us. 

Backwards Account of My Friday

Let's start from this morning and work backwards, shall we?

Just barely made it to work on time. Brad dropped me off at 8:00am exactly after stopping at my house so that I could change my clothes. Drove the hour from his house to mine. Woke up at Joey and Val's house. Brad set an alarm and got us up and ready and had water and food in the car for me because he knew I had to be at work at 8. Not sure what time we actually went to sleep, but I am getting hot just thinking about the couple of hours between us falling asleep and us going downstairs to the guest room. We still haven't had sex, which makes things even better right now. I don't want the complicatedness of post-sex hanging out. The boy knows what he's doing though, I'll tell you that much. And for the life of me I cannot keep my hands off of him. I love the way he kisses me. With a passion that contains just a touch of frantic helplessness. 

Before bed I cuddled on the couch with Brad and Val. Val and Joey just got back from their honeymoon. They showed us their slideshow of pictures and I tried not to fall asleep. Val and I might have taken shots in the kitchen. We drove to their house from a bar that I have no idea the name of. We were all still in our sweats. Danced after we sang karaoke. Ate food that was set up for some party and acted like it was there for us. Did cartwheels in the middle of the road on the way from the previous bar. Took shots of Patron. Burned the roof of my mouth on cheese pizza (serves me right for eating so late) Drank whiskey and coke with all of Brad's friends while they teased us for showing up late. I swore we stopped for gas but I couldn't stop smiling. Almost kissed one of Brad's friends because he came up behind me and I thought it was Brad. Looked at pictures from the wedding I went to a while ago. Talked about how glad I was to have met everyone. Got to the bar late. April called to see where we were after we didn't follow people out of the parking lot. Couldn't even put our seat belts on in Brad's truck because we couldn't stop making out. Knew we shouldn't start making out because we wouldn't be able to stop, but Brad opened the passenger door for me as he said that I never stop amazing him. He looked so cute in his sweatpants all I want to do is rip them off him. Talked to Danielle's parents. Said good game to the other team after beating them in softball. Slide into second base. Hit the game winning run. Drank beers with Brad's friends in the parking lot before the game. Ate dinner at Brad's house. He cooked me whole wheat pasta with fresh mozzarella cheese and cherry tomatoes. Met his brother. Watched The Office with his mom and dad. Brad picked me up after his audition. While we were standing on rocks by the lack before he left he said that there needs to be a new word. Something that describes the feeling that is way stronger than like, without having to use the l word too soon. He closed his eyes. Told me he lllllllllikes me. Brad took me to breakfast. Woke up Friday morning thinking about him. 

It's Not Cute Anymore. It's Fucking Annoying.

Image via Wikipedia

It's funny how when you like someone, everything they do seems cute. But when you cross over into the not liking zone, they could do the exact same thing and it can seem like the most annoying thing anyone could possibly do. The exact same thing.

Case in point: Andy always eats only a half a piece of gum. I used to think this was cool. He'd tear the piece in half and save it for later and then a pack of gum lasted twice as long. Today, I offered him a piece of gum and he took it and ripped it in half, just like he always does, and I wanted to shove the rest of the piece in his fucking mouth. Eat the whole goddamn piece. It's a single piece of gum. It will fit in your mouth. It's not cute at all. It's fucking annoying. I find half pieces of gum in my car all the time and it's a fucking waste because they are dirty and old and no one wants to eat them. So just eat the whole effing piece. 

It wasn't funny at all, it annoyed the shit out of me. And then, I sat down and started writing this post and I thought back to the fantasies I had while driving home about climbing across the car and prying his mouth open dramatically and shoving the rest of the gum in his mouth. And now I'm laughing. 

"When People Show You Who They Are, Believe Them The First Time" -M.Angelo

It's taken me five years and three months to realize that I don't really know you after all. And more importantly, you have no idea who I am. Not in the slightest bit. I find myself fighting the urge to tell you all the things that other guys tell me. Brad thinks I'm beautiful and funny, and Matthew says he's never met someone like me, and Andy says I'm the kind of girl that changes people's lives. But all I really want, is to hear it from you. It's like I still don't believe a word of it. Not until it comes from your lips. Not until you believe it. I need you to tell me. I need your approval still. It's all I've ever really wanted I guess. I just didn't realize it, until tonight. 

And now that I'm laying here, in the dark, listening to the silence of you breathing on the other end of the line, I know. I don't want to be this girl. I don't want to be this girl that's just waiting for you, sad and silent. I want to be the girl that's laughing in the passenger seat of Brad's pickup truck singing country songs at the top of my lungs. I want to be the girl that holds hands with James at a bar because we just need to touch somehow. I want to be the girl at the table, smiling and speaking out loud and not afraid of her voice. The girl that picks what she wants to eat and what she wants to do and doesn't wait for anyone. I don't owe you anything. Turns out, it's me that I owe something to. I'm tired of trying to be what you want. I'm tired of waiting for you to see how fucking awesome I can be. I'm tired of believing you instead of everyone else in my life, and most importantly, instead of me. 

Random iPhone Pictures

The lake yesterday. Absolutely gorgeous. 

My future house...

Had this gorgeous fence all around it, full of quotes.
I took pictures of some of my favorites:

Success always looks easy- and even undeserved to those
who were not around when it was being earned.

Average is your enemy.

"Why not" is a slogan for an interesting life. 

My new boots from Target.
Couple sizes too big but still badass.

I went to Target for mascara.
I left with three pairs of boots,
four t-shirts, two mascaras, hand lotion
and Muscle Milk protein powder.
Target gets me every time.