fill in the blank friday

Happy Friday!  As I'm still recuperating from my gall bladder surgery and trying to fight off an annoying head-cold, I am currently lazing in bed with a tall glass of orange juice and my favorite mug full of Black Chai Tea (I never have just one beverage) sitting next to me on my nightstand.  And I'm watching a rebroadcast of The Royal Wedding on The Royal Channel on Youtube.  Shhhh don't judge...I wasn't really into the whole thing--I just wanted to see Kate Middleton's dress and which designer she chose (and she did not disappoint...she wore Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen?! love her) but now I'm completely roped in.  Anyways, I've decided to participate in my first Fill In The Blank Friday, so here we go!

1.   I am looking forward to    music festivals!  The music festival season is upon us, and to me, music festivals = summer.  Looking forward to the warm weather, road-trips with friends, dancing, cute clothes (sundresses, sunglasses, headbands, etc etc), and of course the music.  This is my first summer with a "real world" job, so I guess you could say this is my first non-summer, but I have no doubt that this summer will be great.

**Photo-Op:

2.  Something kind of embarassing that I still love anyway is  pretty much any trashy reality show on TV.  After being cooped up inside for a week at my grandparents' house, I packed in a lot of TV-watching.  Who knew that Audrina from The Hills (which my roommate/friend, Liz, and I watched religiously in college) now had her own show on VH1?!  Caught up on all of those episodes.  Then Saddle Ranch came on after that.  Had never heard of it, but pretty sure I've seen that whole season now too.  Oh, and whatever Kardashian show is out at the moment, you know I'm up to speed.  Perhaps it's because I haven't had cable in 6 months, but I'm not gonna lie, I enjoyed all of it.

3.  My favorite car is   hmm this is a toughie.  Cars are one area in which I've never felt particularly materialistic about or interested in.  Don't get me wrong, I love my car (it's been with me since the dark ages of my learner's permit) but I haven't named it, nor do I have any sort of romanticized attachment to it.  Although I will say that I think it's pretty cool that my car is a (Mazda) Protegé, and my name is Desiré.  Names with accents stick together!  I think we were made for each other.  With all that said, I'll take this hahah

4.  If I could pick one type of weather to live with for the rest of my life it would be    the transition between spring and summer. Give me 70-75 degrees, bright sun, a slight breeze, and the day free to lounge outside for as long as I want without the threat of my hair frizzing (no humidity, please).

5.  My favorite thing to do after a bad/stressful day is   to treat myself to tasty dinner, a glass of white wine, and a bubble bath.

6.  This weekend       I will be going to pizza and game night; will be waking up bright and early tomorrow morning for breakfast (mimosas, strawberries, eggs, and TWO types of bacon, anyone?!), and (hopefully--if I feel better) going to Foxfield; will be relaxing, cleaning, reading magazines, and drinking lots of tea.

7.  If I were a color, I'd be       green      because,       it's my favorite color, and on a good day, the color of my eyes.

Cheers!

Shout-out to Jenny for giving me this glorious mug for my Birfday this year!

Freak of the Week: Roux Deux

My cat is insane.  If you haven't already done so, please read this for proof.  I was hoping that moving into my new apartment would change things.  Change in scenery = change in cat personality?  Nah.  I think the cat-equivalent of the saying "you can't teach an old dog new tricks" is "once a psycho, always a psycho."  Things were going well for the first couple of months and it seemed as though Roux had actually transformed.  She was even taking naps in my lap (an improvement considering that usually anyone who gets within one foot of Roux comes back bleeding).  However, this was all some sort of mind-game.  She wanted to ensure that I was completely unsuspecting, so that when she finally struck, all of her antics achieved maximum impact.


It all started primitively.  I came home from work one night to a trail of tiny toilet paper shreds, leading from the bathroom, down the hall, and into my bedroom, where it morphed into an explosion.  Was Roux trying a Hansel and Gretal tactic so that she could find her way back to her litter box?  This seemed highly unlikely, but I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, since we hadn't had any issues for a while.  But she didn't stop there.


A couple nights later, I heard a paper bloodbath taking place in my bedroom--the sounds of ripping and shredding echoing throughout my apartment.  I walked in to find Roux eating one of my drawings that she had torn down from my wall.  I threw the drawing on my dresser and told Roux to stop it (as if she knew what I was saying).  I resumed my place on the couch when I heard her ripping another drawing.  I ran into my bedroom and turned on the light, but Roux was nowhere to be found.  I picked up her second victim and turned out the light.  With the flick of the switch, Roux came darting out from beneath my bed and attacked my legs.  A perfectly-timed ambush!  She was standing on her hind legs, biting at my calfs and digging her front claws into my sweatpants.  I. was. terrified.  Later that night, Roux got the boot and I made her sleep on the couch (yes, we're a dysfunctional couple).  The battle had begun.


The next week, Roux was hiding in her favorite spot in the rafters of my ceiling (I live in a converted warehouse, so the building's original wooden beams and piping run throughout the space).  She was pawing at something so I took a step closer so I could see what it was.  I couldn't tell so I started walking away when I heard a loud thud.  I turned around to see what had happened and saw a broken painter's knife lying on the floor.  Clearly whoever had painted the ceiling had left the knife up there, but it was clear to me what was really going on.  Roux was trying to assassinate me.  If I wouldn't have stepped away, who knows where that painter's tool would have landed!


But nothing could have prepared me for what happened a few days later.  I came home after work and went into my bedroom to change...that's when I saw it.  My two top dresser drawers are skinny, and I keep my underwear in one and my bras in the other.  Both drawers were open and all of my underwear were dumped in my bra drawer, and my underwear and bras were tossed like a salad.  My initial thought was that a pervert had broken into my apartment and gone through my underwear (I'm not sure if that ACTUALLY happens, but I've seen it happen on Lifetime movies).  I immediately called my mom, freaking out and screaming "A PERVERT HAS COME INTO MY APARTMENT!"  The first question my mom asked was if anything was missing.  "I DON'T KNOW I DON'T TAKE INVENTORY OF MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER!"  I looked around the apartment and nothing else had been messed with.  Something wasn't adding up.  Meanwhile, Roux was perched in my windowsill, calmly watching my spaz attack:

It was suddenly all too clear to me.  I peeked into the empty underwear drawer and it was padded with gray fur.  I don't know how Roux opened my drawers, but she cleared out my underwear drawer so she could nest!!  The next night I came home to find my underwear drawer cracked open an inch and all of my underwear strewn about on the floor.  At least she was being a polite pervert this time, attempting to shut the drawer back after her break-in.

New Blog Design!

My apologies for posting so sporadically!  I recently underwent gall-bladder surgery (a post is on the way!) and I've been super busy at work...but today I took some time and revamped my blog and created my first buttons!  Please let me know what you think!!

14 Years Later & I'm Uncool In Elementary School

10-year-olds are my bullies.


I work for a Psychology Lab that collects research on children and families, and part of my job requires me to go to elementary schools and observe children on the playground.  Basically, I'm paid to stalk kids.  A couple of weeks ago, I was doing my first school visit unsupervised.  I was slightly nervous and wanted everything to go well.  I had managed to sign in with the front office, navigate my way to the playground, and begin the observation.


oOoOo this is going alright! yay me! I thought as I stared down at my stop-watch.  Then, out of nowhere, WACK.  A huge kickball nailed me in the side of my face.  Stunned, and a little dizzy, I turned to my right to see a group of boys pointing and laughing at me.  As if this wasn't already bad enough, one of the boys scurried up to me, screamed "THAT WAS WEIRD!" in his little nasally voice, and took off running.  It was in that moment that I realized that 14 years later, and I was uncool in elementary school.  I know I shouldn't have been embarrassed, as I'm more than twice these kids' age.  Ultimately I straightened myself up, laughed it off, and finished the observation (with slight traces of kickball track marks imprinted on my cheek).

Things only got worse at my little sister's 10th Birthday Party the following weekend.  I was excited to meet all of her friends and celebrate her entering double-digits!  I was still getting ready when the kids started to arrive, and every now and then I would catch a few of them peeking their heads through the crack in the bathroom door, watching me straightening my hair or applying mascara.  To them I was the mysterious older sister, offering insight into the teenage world.  That is, until my little sister told them that I was 23.  Then they lost all interest.  Apparently I peaked at 17.  Once I crossed the threshold into "ancient" territory, they came up with the grand idea of playing pranks on me.


They began by scattering and hiding throughout the house.  As I walked down the hallway, they each popped out from a different hiding place, screaming and poking at me.  Then they backed me into a corner and rubbed their nasty bare feet all over me!!  One of the first things you will learn about me, if you don't already know, is that I HATE feet.  They are my biggest pet peeve/fear.  It was Game. Over.


Later on, my mom asked me to go outside and spray all of the girls' hair with spray glitter because they were playing dress-up.  Easy enough, I thought.  But when I walked outside, I was ambushed!  They chased me down, tackled me to the ground, and sprayed glitter all over me.  While seeking refuge, with my unnaturally gleaming hair and my deep coughs from the fumes, I realized that I needed to accept my fate of being easy prey for the brutal beings that are 10-year-old girls.

After her party, my little sister was watching me buy a ticket to see David Sedaris.  A ticket...for one.  There are certain things that I just cannot go to alone but I decided that a book-reading isn't one of them.  While I was spazzing over making sure I entered all of my credit card information during their unreasonable time limit, my little sister thought it appropriate to provide a commentary on my existence:
"Look at your life, Des.  You live alone.  In a warehouse.  With your cat.  And you listen to weird music."
"What's so bad about that?!"
I'll never be cool among the 10-year-old generation.  I'll just go back to my warehouse apartment, play with my crazy cat, and listen to my weird music.  Oh yeah, and avoid eye-contact and speed-walk when in the vicinity of a 10-year-old.