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You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Posts Tagged ‘life’

my happiness project

Friday, February 6th, 2009

I just recently started reading a blog called The Happiness Project. Since the title kinda says it all, I won’t explain it to you. I’ve decided to start my own. I’ve made a mental list of what my own project will consist of, but I’m not going to throw it all down right now – what’s a blog without a lil suspense, huh? I do know pretty clearly what makes me happy, so all I need to do is make those things a bigger part of my life. Simple, right? I’ll keep you updated on how it’s going – I’m going to attempt at least one happiness action item a week. This week I’ll do two – the first will be to never use the phrase ‘happiness action item’ ever again.

Cakebread wine makes me happy, as do cute hats.

Cakebread wine makes me happy, as do cute hats.

Up this week? Limiting my facebook friends to actual friends. 

Why is this going to make me happy? Mostly because this way I won’t have to see ‘Frank is driving to Mexico’ or ‘JoAnne is snuggling with her baby’ anymore. Yes, I realize that those are not particularly irritating statements on their own. However, when Frank and JoAnne are people that I, say, went to college with and didn’t even like then, getting Frank’s city-by-city update of his trip from upstate NY to Mexico gets a little old. And dude, how many times can you talk about your baby in your status?!?! These women are the reason childless women are afraid to become mothers! I made these people up (just now, I’m so creative) but you can see my point.

Now that I’ve done my winnowing, I realized how many people I was facebook friends with for no good reason.  Here is a brief play-by-play of what I just went through:

JV: I do not know who this person is. Literally. Not a clue. DELETE.

JF: Um, I may have kissed him at a bar several months ago. Maybe. Unless that was someone else. DELETE.

JM: Yeah, definitely kissed him at a bar. In Chicago. Several years ago. How on earth did he even find me on here? DELETE.

I’m not making these initials up, btw… do I have a secret problem with J’s? I hope not! Also, note to self – stop kissing strangers in bars.

The $1000 martini.... maybe thats why I was kissing them. If not it damn well should have been.

The $1000 martini.... maybe that's why I was kissing them. If not it damn well should have been.

JC: This was a friend of my little brother, and I didn’t even like him in high school. DELETE.

HD: Girlfriend who broke my brothers heart. WTF. DELETE.

NM: Kid in high school who actually used to hit me. DELETE.

SP, TB, MC, CP, AC: People I work with and do not know well enough to start up a conversation if we’re walking down the same hallway. I have no objection to these people. I even like them, what I know of them! However, I seriously doubt they want to know that I am currently “reading a liveblog of He’s Just Not That Into You on“. Or that last night I made cookies. Or that yesterday I was smitten. Etc. Etc. 

DC: Again, who is this? I must have either accepted or requested this person as a friend. Was I unconcious? Have I been hacked? If so, that’s a pathetic thing for the hacker to do… DELETE.

I could go on, but the gist is this: I was a friend-accepting-facebook-slut. No longer. I can now happily add things like my phone number to my profile, because everyone on it is someone I wouldn’t mind talking to.

Happiness project 1, done. I feel smilier already.

Be cool soda pop

Tuesday, December 16th, 2008

Friday, January 11, 2008

5 reasons why i’d like to be a private eye, other than the p-mate.

1) I could wake up whenever I wanted.  It’s a proven fact, bad guys don’t commit crimes before 10 am. That gives me time to sleep later than I do now, go to the gym, AND eat breakfast. Breakfast. It’s the most important meal of  the day you know.

2) I would have a contact in the police department who would run people through ‘the system’ for me.  This would come in especially handy for blind dates and interviews.  “Excuse me, Ms. Vice President? That man you want to hire to be my boss was arrested for public stupidity several times in the last six months.  Fyi.”  Also “Really? you’d like to go get get a drink, mr. cutie-i-met-through-a-friend? Even though you’ve had four DUIs and an illegitimate child?”

3) When you’re on a stakeout you can listen to whatever music you want AND use a

4) If Veronica Mars and Kinsey Millhone are any indicator, I will get to wear very cute clothes and (see 1) will have plenty of time to make my hair adorable.  What, you don’t think that’s important?  I’m sorry, whose blog do you think you’re reading again?

5) Four syllables. Un-der-cov-er.  Hooker? eh. Debutante? absolutely.  Prospective stolen jewelry buyer? role I was born to play. Hard ass black leather wearing chica? um yeah. Sign me up.

In summary, this is apparently my second place dream job.  Good to know, right?

Also (and I’m filing this under highly unrealistic)… could I go to high school in California?  A high school PI gets all the fun jobs – no gruesome murder, heavy on the kinky sex. And there’s the whole sunny courtyard tan thing. Love it.

Rachel. Bilson.

Tuesday, December 16th, 2008

Monday, November 12, 2007

She owns a deli, in the mall, and oftens thinks about meats and cheeses.  I am slowly getting over Chuck (perhaps in self defense because the writers strike will soon affect my… well, my entire life).  However, Rachel Bilson is called Lou, has her whole life on her phone, and is my idol.  I wonder how old she is.  Ohohoh – I checked – she’s only six months younger than me.  It is entirely reasonable that I could, still, be Rachel Bilson.  Score.

this grownup thing is so weird

Tuesday, December 16th, 2008


Friday, December 15, 2006


Is it not?
I’m expected t make these decisions and just never go back on them! I can’t keep a lease for a year, how on earth do I know what I want to be for the rest of my life?
Here’s what I’d like to do if I could do everything:
Be a doctor
Win the lottery
Have the same dog forever
Have 10 dogs and refer to them as my ‘peeps’
Develop a television show
Be an archeologist
Write a book about a girlie detective
Write a book about metallurgy
Be a vet
Visit the north pole (just in case Santa’s really there)
Join the Peace Corps
Join Engineers without Borders
Meet a stranger and eat a hamburger
Be a tenured professor of… well, anything
Convince the world that 5’1″ is the perfect height for a runway model
Be that person who does studies like ‘2 out of 10 people think trees aren’t pretty’ and ‘being married makes you 12% less likely to run out of gas on the way to work’
Design Italian sports cars with my little brother
See?  How is one supposed to fit all of this into 100 years or less? Baloney.

*emmanation notes: I am now a homeowner and have in fact eaten hamburgers with strangers. But the question still stands. I need more time.