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Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Battle of the Sexes

I saw one of my favorite men in the world today, and he bought me lunch. If he wasn't gay and in a relationship (with someone I approve of) I would totally try and steal him. Lucky for me, he loves me just as much as I love him.

Why can't guys just do what we want them to do without us having to tell them. I sometimes feel like it's our society's sadistic version of an ongoing world war, men v. women the final final frontier. On the guy's side, they are just trying to hook up with relatively attractive women and put themselves in a position to continue doing this. The women on the other hand want to develop this perfect "boyfriend" and to find out if the guy you are seeing is the right one, we put him through a variety of little tests made up in our own mind. If he loves me, he'll ask me to marry him by December. If he starts to put the toilet seat down, he truly wants to be with me. I know he's in love if he'll fix my carburetor. To tell you the truth, I don't think men understand just how many tests women put them through without their knowledge.

Tiffy and I were discussing how we are each secretly testing our boyfriends at the moment. She is waiting to see who will hang a picture in her apartment first. She asked him to do it about a week ago, but he hasn't yet (neither has she). Hopefully he will get his butt in gear or he will "fail" one of our crazy tests invented to see if a boyfriend is "good enough". Truthfully, I really don't think anyone is quite "good enough" for her, but if he hangs the picture he will be one step closer. I am abstaining from mentioning my boyfriend's test as he does check the blog, luckily we live 3,000 miles apart and over an ocean from each other so he can't browbeat me. But I will tell you that the BF has struck out a couple of times (he's compared my hair to a possum and my legs to ham), but he's also hit quite a bit of homeruns (pretty ring and London)....

I guess it all equals out in the end, but testing them is just too much fun.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Sorry for the Delay, your LIFE is approaching

As you can tell I've been away from the blog for a bit. Many reasons have stopped me from entering lovely tidbits about my life, the biggest being that I am in fact MOVING TO FRANCE! It's finally been confirmed! Other notable mentions of wasted time this week include: movies, crying over said movies a bit (bleeding heart romantic film), Atlantic City misadventures with the cousin, the black plague, and also peeing myself with excitement over leaving for Paris.


I leave February 3, arrive the 4th and stay until probably forever...ahh it's actually real now. I am a bit stressed but super excited. I have to say my biggest fear is having good friends to hang out with, as I have basically no one there and I am used to being surrounded by people I love and who love me back. I'm really going to miss watching movies with my parents and Granny, going to lunch in the city with Tiffy, being able to pick up the phone and call any of my friends, having game nights with the DiLanzos, just chilling with my cousins, going over the Zanonis and having a huge Italian lollapalooza, and so many other things.

But who really cares, "live life with no regrets", I'M MOVING TO PARIS!

So now it's all about getting everything done and saying my good byes. I guess in the end it's all bittersweet...I am so thrilled to be moving to Paris but sad I won't get to see the people I love everyday. It's weird how even though you can be ecstatic to do one thing, there's always a little tinge of the what-if 's. I mean not that I'd ever not go to Paris but there are definitely people I will miss and I know that will be hard for me, as I consider myself a family person and to me my family is huge. Family isn't just blood, it's my best friends and their families, my parents friends, even some of my neighbors...it's all those people who make me smile...those people I enjoy taking a second out of my day to talk to...the people that fill my heart. So to all my family, even though I am far away I will always have a little piece of you with me. I really loved this poem for some reason the first time I read it. Every single time I pick it up I think of the people I love most and how they affected me. Truthfully, wherever I go and whatever I do, the people who have been in my life shaped who I am and are always with me, I truly carry them with me no matter where I am.

i carry your heart with me by ee cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)



I know this was a corny post so I am truly sorry.

PS Mom and Dad I love you

Sunday, January 20, 2008

New Found Insomnia and a Case of the Fashion Blues

Today I woke up at 3 am. I don't think I have ever just woken up at 3 am. Usually I am STILL awake and wasting time on something dumb.

The conclusion drawn on this new found insomnia is that I am in fact suffering from the flu. My dad and Granny just had it so I guess I caught it. My body's reaction is inability to sleep and fever. Which is really the best you could ask for in a flu situation.

Now with this glorious lack of sleep, I have taken to attempting to pack for France. So far I have conquered toiletries and electronics, packed in the smaller of the 2 check in luggage (as recommended by my totally awesome cousin). I have no clue how I will overcome the hurdle of clothing. I am one of those girls who has A clothing (the good stuff), B clothing (stuff you occasionally wear) and C Clothing (the stuff you'd like to wear but really don't think is "you" or actually doesn't even fit you anymore but you hang on to it just because you loved it once)

Now what it comes down to is what do I want to look like in Paris. As it is the Fashion epicenter of the whole universe, this is a world altering decision. Do I want to come off Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face? Definitely, but I also want to throw a bit of Katie Holmes a la recently. Very classy and sophisticated but with a little modern day edge. Should I include Brigitte Bardot in the items that enter my bag? Duh, which is why I plan on taking plenty of eyeliner.
Leslie Carron, tops my list of favorite actresses from the 50's... very Parisian and glamorous. Always had a nice floppy hat on her head and a scarf around her neck. I'd like to have the confidence to do that. Or red lipstick in the daytime. I think every girl should become a woman with the discovery of the perfect shade of red lipstick. Back to the actualy point though, what do I wear in the fashion capital of the world. Perhaps one of the most difficult decisions is comfort vs. style. Some people claim they can be achieved simultaneously, but I doubt that. I mean you can look "cute" or "nice" but people will not admire you for your style.

I am a babysitter, so I should wear flats. BUT my Michael Kohrs boots are absolutely adorable and comfy enough to wander around the Musee D'Orsay or Marmmotan. People have seen said boots on me, and liked them so much they went out and bought them themselves. To me, that is STYLE. When someone looks at you and goes oh hot damn, I want to look like you. But woe is me, I am an au pair and required to walk from place to place not chauffeured around the town. But all I do is pick the kiddies up from school and wander back to the apartment, and you never know the girls could have a breathtakingly gorgeous teacher or tutor or something and I don't think a pair of sneakers would be my best option to impress him (Sorry Vince, if I meet Oliver Martinez and he falls in love with me because of my Michael Kohrs boots, we had a good time these past years but we are most likely over)

Tonight I promise that I shall pack some basics clothing essentials tomorrow with my best friend Tiffy and if I fail to do so, my punishment shall be not watching the show Las Vegas on TV. She hails from Philly and will most likely knock some sense into me if I try and add a vintage but very ugly pink poncho that fashionistas argue is in style. Tiffy is definitely my Michael Kohrs boots as I wouldn't trade for anything.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Barefoot in the Snow


Every year since we've been up north, at the first snowfall my mother and I would hold an annual foot race. Rules were the ground must be covered in snow (no grass peaking through to reveal itself), your feet must be bare, you must run from the front door to the street as fast as humanly possible without breaking any bones or having to be rushed to the hospital.

This race for me was really the arrival of winter and a sort of remembrance to childhood and a special bond that my family has between us. Even though it's my mom and me who do the running it wouldn't be the same without dad saying that we're crazy and shaking his head at us and telling us we'll wake up with a cold the next morning. It's one of my favorite traditions and I plan on doing it at the first snow of every year as long as I possibly can.

I feel like every second of your youth you spend hoping to be older, classier, more sophisticated and you forget about that time when you just do things because.... because they are fun , because they are ridiculous, really just because you can. Running barefoot every year helps me to remember to do that, to be just because and do things just because.

There's nothing quite as wonderful as running full speed on slippery snow. Even though your toes tingle, you never actually feel cold. You're running on all this pent up child-like adrenaline. You run in the door and suddenly you look up and you are like did I really just do that? Usually my mom would try and knock me down or I'd throw a snowball at her, while my dad laughed and took pictures of us from the warmth of the house. This year despite my mother's surgery and all her pain she still did it.... I guess for me, which is pretty cool. Despite the earlier spinal tap post, my mom is pretty cool and I am lucky to have her (I would like to note that I put this in here because I know she reads it and I would like her to discontinue the use of sad pouty face (I've patented it and I am considering suing her for illegal use.)

So I guess what I will say is thanks Mom and Dad for making this 6 months I've been home with you less like a spinal tap or an anal cavity search and more like a carnival's freak show, a little creepy and definitely weird, but in the end pretty great and all together very memorable.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Crazy Game of Poker

Sorry for the lame post title but I am attempting at the moment to come off as witty as it is my first blog and it is also 3:45 am.

Tonight was what may be one of my last poker games with my boys for awhile. It was fun as always until I had to take on the chip stack empire of Darth Tim. Let's just say towards the end of the game (it ended at 3) I went a bit crazy. Which is probably evident by the state of this post. To give you one example of my actions, I told Tim that this was in fact a Return of the Jess-I... I admit not one of my finer moments in life but hey you win some and you lose some. In the end I was up 5 bucks and a happy camper, but sadly Duke Duke Duke and Earl is still stuck in my head (Damn you Alex Trebek)

I would just like to say that my friend Chris does in fact know what urine therapy is, and has practiced it. the end.

On a side note; My boyfriend (the German) named his bike after me. Not a motorcycle, a bicycle. He told me that owning a bike was like being the Captain of a ship. The first thing that popped into my head was The Looking Glass and Brandy... Maybe my boyfriend's true love is the pavement of Germany and this is his secret way of telling me...

Blog posting is very fun and I think this was a wise decision for me to make. Now I can be slightly more productive when being bored on the computer and keep people well informed of my life via internet, just what everyone wanted right?

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

The Wait

January 6. That's when I was supposed to leave this god forsaken place and be in my dream town, well I guess city of Paris...but alas I have been thwarted by the French government. Really no surprise. So now it's January 16 and I am dilly dallying around North Wales, PA. I don't really feel like doing much of anything to tell you the truth. I am about an eighth of the way packed with really no hope of finishing.

How can you put your life in 3 bags and then fly off to Paris? Who does that? Well obviously I do...or will. But still making a decision between my 2 favorite cardigans is like Sophie's choice. Do I take navy or black... usually what happens is I decide to take both and then my luggage is 20 lbs overweight and I am paying $300 to get my luggage over to France a la the incident of Study Abroad 2005. Nonetheless, I will overcome this and be in Paris hopefully in no less than a week. Once there the first order of business is 1) bottle of cheap French red wine 2) baguette 3) chevre 4) Notre Dame and La Seine and I will stay there until I have to do something...

Whilst in Paris I plan on living the life of Gigi, the best Musical to rock the Academy Awards... at least in my opinion. If you happen to be in Paris when I am, if you see a girl walking down the streets singing "The Night they Invented Champagne" or "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" it most likely is me. Sadly, I think this is the movie that started my love affair with all things French. If I remember correctly my mother let me watch it when I was 5 or 6. Let me just give you a quick update on the plot: poor young beautiful girl is trained by her mother and aunt to be a courtesan to some of France's and the world's most powerful men. I find that funny that 2 of my childhood favorite movies had me idolizing prostitutes (the other Pretty Woman) What do you think Freud would say about that?

Well enough with my Paris daydreams... back to the States.

My mom just had some surgery and we've been hanging out. Which can be fun but can also be similar to a spinal tap. She's recovering pretty well, but she has developed what I like to term "Displaced Princess Syndrome", where she thinks she is a Princess and everyone should wait on her.

This is all I feel like writing for my first post ever, maybe I will continue later.

Much love.