On a Bad Day, There's Always Lipstick.

I'm convinced this is why the brand Wet n' Wild even exists. If I'm having a lousy day, I run into the nearest drug store, buy myself a new and usually bold lipstick, and BAM! The day suddenly got better. And for a price cheaper than a latte.

After a rough week however, one lousy tube of 99 cent lipstick just isn't going to cut it. On Tuesday I made the mistake of wearing my hair down for the first time in a few weeks. I was so distracted by how badly I needed a trim, I could barely work.

So, while I was home, I booked myself a hair appointment at the fancy David J. Witchell Salon in Newtown. After the luxurious shampoo/scalp massage (seriously, going to a fancy salon is worth it just for the scalp massage!) I explained to Brooke that I'm attempting to grow my hair long, but I was bored! so very bored. And then left it to her creative genius.

And now? Well, everything is different. I'm going to kick ass not only at work, but in the jam packed social holiday calendar that is December. I'm going to be organized, do my laundry more than once a month, eat healthy, get a boyfriend, learn a new language, lose 5 lbs, and bake cookies for orphans. In short, save the world. Or something.

While I may not get to all of that, at the very least I won't have any split ends.

Tis the Season

Thanksgiving is over y'all. This year I really hit my stride with the mashed potatoes, discovered I'm awesome at the game Apples to Apples (it's all about knowing your audience), and there was a James Bond marathon on one of my parents' fancy cable networks. All in all, a great holiday.

However, Thanksgiving being over implies that basically, it's all over until New Years. I mean, December is a food coma induced blur with only 3 working weeks (yikes!) left in the year. The above calendar is from Social Workout and I am fairly convinced that this may as well be my iCal for the next 30 days. , First World Problems.

Iceberging, Bamboozlement, and Sometimes the Universe has your back.

I'm going to preface this post with the following definitions.

Iceberging: verb. When you've been on a couple of dates with someone, and you're not feeling it, but it's too early to actually have a break-up conservation. So, you "iceberg" them. In reference to the eskimos putting their elderly on an ice float, and sending them out to sea. Becoming busy forever, ignoring phone calls, and gently pushing them out to sea.

Bamboozled: verb. When a girl is confused by a guy. Usually because he's just not that into her, but every once in a while acts like he is. The term is usually used in statements such as "He bamboozled me! I'm such a fool!"

The number 1 thing to keep in mind while dating in Pittsburgh: You will see this person again.

Over the summer I was dating a guy. I actually liked him, and we made it past 3 dates (usually the point at which I decide I'm bored) so this was exciting. Towards the end of August I stopped hearing from him. Iceberged, I figured. Bummer, but you win some you lose some.

A month later, a phone call, apologies, excuses for being consumed with grad school. Whatever I figure, it's not as though there's anyone else, and we had fun. So, started seeing him again. 2 weeks of hanging out, flirtatious texting, etc. After which, nothing. (seeing a pattern here?) Bamboozled! I thought. And iceberged! Not only was this a bummer, it was a little embarrassing.

Nearly 2 months go by. Get over it, rebound, get over the rebound. Then this morning, while minding my own business, listening to Morning Edition, and drinking my coffee, who should come stand next to me on the bus. Oh Pittsburgh, I love and hate that you're such a small town. Catch up, tell anecdotal stories from the weekend, say it was good seeing you, play it totally cool.

Then 10 minutes later, a text message. From him. "dinner tonight?" it asks.

"NO! " My mind yells at the text message. "No! no! No! Terrible, bad, awful idea!" All of this is what I'm thinking as I watch myself type "sure." into my phone and hit send. We set a time, a place, and I spend the rest of the morning telling myself that "Well, clearly I hate myself, but it's just dinner, and I know he's not really interested, but it's not like I had plans tonight anyways. This will be fine. What am I going to wear?"

Then get back from lunch to find the following text message "hey, have to back out. Got slammed with a project. Real disappointed and sorry"

Palm to forehead slap.

Feel disappointed, eat fun-sized chocolates, listen to the yeah yeah yeah's, make plans with roomate to do yoga, drink wine, and get Thai takeout. Have a great evening. Realize that sometimes, the universe has your back, saving you from your own poor judgement, and keeping you from having a dinner you definitely shouldn't have.

I Must Be Responsible

Today I logged onto my banking account to see just how much damage I did during my stay in NYC. Did I mention that I basically spent the time I wasn't working eating/drinking my way around Manhattan? And while I was ok with that, and have vowed to work-out like a fiend over the next week to make up for it, I did the thing where you just don't check your account balance, because you know there's still money in there but you don't want to be made aware of how much you've spent.

Anyways, imagine my joy today when while checking my account, I also realized that my credit limit has been TRIPLED since I last looked. All those months of responsibly paying off my credit card has finally been worth it! I can do that thing where you spontaneously hop on the next bus to the airport and take whatever is the first flight they'll let you on. Or, you know, be reassured that my credit card could now actually bail me out of an emergency, god forbid I need it, because the bank thinks I'm a responsible grown-up.

Speaking of being grown-up, I went to my second pre-thanksgiving dinner this afternoon. By the time I arrived (Port Authority hates to be anywhere on time on Sundays) everyone was already pretty tipsy. I mean, the Steelers game did start at 1:00, and THEY LOST so I can only imagine that the majority of Pittsburgh was intoxicated by 4:30 pm. The point to all of this, is that we had a great time eating food, and drinking beers on a Sunday, and most of the people there were a couple years older than me. I find it very reassuring to think that there's still time before I have to grow up. Even if PNC thinks I'm responsible.

The Running Buddy

I'm training for a half marathon in May. I once attempted training for a full marathon during my junior year of college. Turns out a college lifestyle isn't exactly conducive to marathon training. After 6 months, one sprained ankle, 2 pairs of sneakers, countless blisters, and a minor nervous breakdown, I decided that running for 26.2 miles wasn't going to happen at this point in my life, so I put it on the back burner and went back to my standard 3-4 mile runs a couple times a week. Until now.

A full marathon still seems rather daunting, so I'm easing into it with the half. And this time things are different. I've found myself a running buddy. Running Buddy ensures that I get out of bed on Saturdays to go for a long run. Running Buddy texts messages me during the week asking how the training's going. Running Buddy won't let me slack. It's great.

We had a noontime run scheduled for today, which I was nervous about because I had been out of town for the past week, and so it had been that long since I had even seen my sneakers. Making me even more nervous was the fact that I was out last night celebrating a friends birthday where I may as well have bought stock in Yellow Tail, and woke up this morning at 11 am still intoxicated.

Under any other circumstances, I would've stayed in bed, BUT Running Buddy was expecting me, so I laced up my sneakers, and tried to think sober thoughts.

Drunk running is hard y'all. Your balance is off, and you can't find your rhythm, and your thoughts are all drunk, so it's not even like your working through any of your issues or anything. During the 10 minute jog to Running Buddy's house I was all, "Well this is terrible, and I'm just going to have to go home, because there's no way I'll last another 10 minutes."

Then Running Buddy comes down the street.
"I'm hungover." He says. "I was going to bring a barfbag."
"Ha!" I reply. "I'm still drunk. We are in great shape. This will be interesting."

So we took off. And after a couple of minutes I started to sober up, and he started to feel less hungover, and we had a great run. Running with someone makes you keep up the pace, it adds a level of competition that pushes you just a little harder than you push yourself. And it provides distracting conversation. As nice as running is for self analyzation, there are days when that much time with just you and your thoughts can be maddening. Conversation makes running an enjoyable experience.

So, if we can have a good run while drunk and hungover, I have every confidence that we will work our way up to 13.1 miles over the next 6 months. I'm actually looking forward to it.

Business Trip

This week, I went on my first ever business trip. Sort of. I work for a small nonprofit in Pittsburgh, so traveling on business isn’t all first class and hotel rooms and expense accounts. It was more like there was a web 2.0 conference in NYC I wanted to attend, and I know a guy, who knows a girl, who got me a free table (being a non-profit and all), and I stayed with my bff from high school who now lives in Queens, so the trip didn’t cost the organization a cent.

And me? I got to hang out in New York, get my social media nerd on at a great conference, and was out of the office for a week without having to use a single hour of vacation. We all win in this situation as far as I am concerned.

I grew up only an hour train ride away from NYC, and even though Philadelphia is closer to my hometown, I spent far more time in New York. Whenever I go there, part of me is always afraid I’ll wind up wanting to move there. After this stay, in which I hung out with locals, did nothing touristy, and finally started to get a handle on the subway system, I thought; I could live here if I needed to. Thing is, I don’t want to.

I moved to Pittsburgh for college, and by the time I was in my junior year, knew I didn’t want to leave when I graduated. Pittsburgh is a great town. People say thank you to the bus drivers here. You can go out and have a good meal and get fairly intoxicated for $20 or under. They put French fries on their salads. Pittsburgh taught me to love sports, which if you knew me in high school you would understand the significance of this statement. There’s a great local music scene, real estate is basically free (at least when you compare it to NYC), and it rains a lot, which I know sounds depressing, but I’ve learned to find very comforting. Also, rainy climates are better for your complexion and guard against wrinkles.

Pittsburgh may be my adopted city, but I feel more at home here than any place I’ve ever been. Tomorrow morning I fly back. It’s gonna feel so good.