Monday, February 26, 2007

Mount Bluenana

K2, Mount Rushmore, and Mount Everest ain't got nothin' on Mount Bluenana...the fond name I've given my ginormous pimple.

Thanks to my mom's genes, I've been blessed with fairly clear skin. Once in a while I'll get a teeny tiny pimple, but it always disappears after I take a shower. This time around, the shower didn't make it go away. I ran my face under scalding water and that did nothing either. (Yes, I've been told that this won't help at all.) For days it felt like it's been growing little roots under the skin of my cheek and unfortunately I am 100% clueless about what to do with it.

Nikki was my big sister today while I woefully scanned the aisle at CVS looking for keywords like mask and clean & clear. I am a preteen.

If this thing doesn't go away soon, Jon Krakauer can write his next New York Times bestseller about my face.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Killer Squirrel

Saturday mornings are my time to sleep in. I've been known to sleep until noon or 1pm, on occasion, just because I can. I loooves me some sleep.

One Saturday morning, around 8 a.m., I heard a persistent scratching at my window. Since the hour was a single digit and it WAS Saturday morning, I decided not to get up and take a peek. Fuck it, I thought.

After about 30 minutes of scratch, scatchity, scratch, and not being able to fall back asleep, I got up and pulled the venetian blind. Holy fuck, there's a squirrel inside my window, stuck between the glass and the screen. His claws looked as large as eagle's talons and his fangs dripped blood...I can only assume human blood. (Alright, I might be exaggerating, but I was half asleep and I was pretty traumatized.) He looked ferocious and intent upon entering my bedroom and killing me. Of course, I ran out of my room and screamed bloody murder.

My father came running to my aid, prepared to shoot a peeping Tom outside my window. He pulled the blind and laughed. Apparently, it wasn't all that big of a deal, but it was to me. Especially since I was probably having one of my 'someone's trying to kill me and I must hide in an air vent' dream. Clearly, the squirrel was sent by one of the Russian spies who needed to extract the microchip from under my skin.

So, my dad went outside, pulled out the garden hose, sprayed it at my bedroom window, and the squirrel managed to get himself out and scurry off.

All seemed well, but I was still paranoid. 20 minutes later, I peep outside my window again and I see the squirrel climbed back up the storm drain and is running full speed towards my window again. I snap this photo and go call help again.

This time the little fucker managed to squeeze himself here:

Well, I told him that he puts the lotion in the basket or he gets the hose again. He never came back.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

It's official: FOX HOLLOW!!!!

OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD. We signed the contracts today and it's all official. HB and I are getting married on 8/3/08 and the reception will be in the super pretty big ballroom at Fox Hollow.

The Garden Terrace is g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s and this photo doesn't do it justice. The cocktail hour will be in an outdoor reception area with a private garden, or it'll be in a smaller ballroom in case of bad weather.

I'm on Cloud 9 today, people. I'm really, finally, seriously, totally getting married!!!

Friday, February 23, 2007

The sad, sad guest list

With this whole wedding business, I'm getting exposed to new wedding jargon that I find myself using in everyday speech. Here's the term that's bothering me the most these days:

Guarantee: the minimum number of guests that you agree to pay for at your wedding reception. This is a number that you have to be confident about because if you slip below your guarantee on the night of your reception, you still have to pay for the minimum number of guests. Also, you can't just pick a number out of thin air. Ballrooms have a maximum number that they hold and a minimum. Usually the site will pick the guarantee number and you need to meet it. Argh, it's all a tricky business.

I find myself completely depressed because I don't know if we'll be able to meet the guarantee to use the super pretty, big ballroom at Fox Hollow. What happens when two antisocial wallflowers get married? Their families use up a majority of the guest slots because Wallflowers 1 and 2 don't have enough friends. It's a sad, sad situation. The difference between The Garden Terrace and the Colonial Briar Fox is like the difference between Jacques Torres and Russel Stover. (That was for you, Moonie.)

Sigh. I want the pretty pretty room.

Bank idiot, Part 2

Ok, so I now know that when you have a $100 bill to deposit and you want to withdraw $30, you only need to write $70 on the deposit slip.

This time I have a check for $67 and I want to withdraw $20. Do the same rules apply? Or do I have to write out a deposit slip for $67 and a withdrawal slip for $20? Why is this so complicated for me?

This is what I was contemplating all morning during my commute in to work since I planned to stop by the bank before going into the office. To avoid another painfully embarassing scene, I decided that my safest bet would be to get $20 from the ATM machine and then deposit the check with the teller.

Agreed, not the most efficient way to conduct myself, but I couldn't bear any more humiliation.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Valen-Presi-tine-dents Day

What better way to celebrate (rescheduled) Valentine's Day than by visiting potential wedding reception halls? If I knew it would be this much fun, I would've started all of this a couple of years ago!

We visited four places, but only two are left in the running. As I type this, in my heart, I think I'm near a decision. In descending order of awesomeness:

The food is definitely the main attraction here. You'll walk in and be greeted by white gloved servers holding silver trays of champagne and strawberries. A hostess will lead you into the cocktail reception where more white gloves will pass around crispy lobster rolls, sesame shrimp kebobs, coconut chicken, saffron rissoto cakes (and more), and there will be hot chafing dishes full of beef bourguignone, roasted duck, fried calamari, chicken francese (and more) , cold displays of fruit platters, cheese spreads, all kinds of breads and vegetables, and tables and tables of more food. Oh, and, let's not forget the open bar. AND AFTER ALL THAT, you'll enter the ballroom for the dinner (choice of 7 (!!!) entrees) and there'll be music and dancing and more open bar and general happiness. (Can you tell this is our favorite?)

The beautiful grounds are the real seller here. In the spring and summertime, there'll be flowers upon flowers. There was a sad, single swan out there (Marty) and his mate has gone missing. We're all very, very sad about this. Plenty of food, though not nearly as decadent as Fox Hollow. It's so pretty, even without all the flowers, and I must show you a picture:

3. Chateau La Mer

Obviously, by the water, but seriously overhyped. I wanted to visit CLM only because so many brides on the forum were raving about how gorgeous this place was, but I didn't see it. The food is abundant here (they offer guests a second entree and the bride and groom receive all four entree options for dinner), but I think it's to make up for the fact that they have psychotic seagulls flocking the piers.

Ok, rewind. We showed up at CLM about 30 minutes earlier than our appointment, so we decided to drive down by the pier to see the view of the Long Island sound. There were dozens of seagulls everywhere lounging around the empty parking lot and my mother felt sorry for them. She thought they needed to be fed. So my father rolls down the window and tosses a couple of peanut butter crackers out the window, when suddenly every seagull on the pier flocked to our car. It was a scene out of Hitchcock's The Birds. We were so freaked out that we drove away--quickly--and when I looked in the rearview mirror, all I could see were seagulls chasing after our car.

Yeah, this didn't make the cut. Here's a scary seagull that was staring me down from the hood of the car:

4. Woodbury Country Club

18 acres of beautiful, manicured grounds surround this reception hall, but it was all very blah. And oddly enough, the most expensive. Nothing worth mentioning.

That was my very very busy Valen-Presi-tine-dents Day.

**Of course, for more photos, check out my Flickr.

I missed you so much!!

Work. Wedding. Illness. All of these things have kept me away from The Forest, but I'm so happy to be back! Missed ya.

So, so much to tell. Don't know where to start, but I will...

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

8:57 P.M. the time I am leaving work and 10:30 P.M is the likely time that I'll get home. Bleh...

So. Effing. Tired.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

It must be my birthday...

'cause the hugguhbear has come to see me a full 10 hours early! That's the best surprise I've had since I don't know when! We have a handful of appointments to see potential wedding reception sites tomorrow, so obviously today's agenda is all about Zelda: Twilight Princess.

I guess this is kind of a hiatus note, since wii will be a bit busy today and tomorrow.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Fuck. I'm in the yellow.

So, back in October '05 when I had the worst asthma attack of my life and poor hugguhbear had to rush me to the emergency room (where I didn't have to wait a second before they threw me on a bed and stuck a tube in my mouth), I was given a couple of newfangled gadgets to help me prevent that from ever happening again.

One is a peak flow meter and, when I blow into it, it tells me what my current maximum ability is to expel air from my lungs. There's a green, yellow, and red zone, which is basically self explanatory. I'm supposed to be in the green. If I get into the yellow, something's wrong. If I'm in the red, I need to go to the hospital.

So, tonight, I find myself laboring to breathe and I'm in the yellow. The low yellow. The yellow part that's painfully close to the red.

I really don't want to go to the hospital. Aside from the fact that I haven't shaved my legs in weeks, and it's effing cold outside, emergency rooms are so damn expensive. It's a $100 copay, and then if they can't control my breathing, they'll admit me and then that's at least $1500 a day. I just can't afford that. Not when I'm saving for my wedding and trying so hard not to buy pretty things.

Yes, I know I'm being ridiculous. I'm hours away from a full-on asthma attack and I'm blogging about how expensive emergency rooms are and how much that sucks because that will prevent me from paying the cake cutting fee at the reception hall and buying a pretty bag.

Perhaps the lack of oxygen in my brain is causing impaired judgement.


Seriously, I didn't know if I'd make it to Friday. Finally, FINALLY, I can just rest and shake off this cold.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Hell hath no fury

like a diehard Celine Dion fan scorned.

Holy shit, is my sister pissed. Celine Dion's final show at Caesar's Palace is on December 15th and the presale for the tickets took place today at 1pm. I was charged with buying her tickets (at the highest VIP price level) using her "Team Celine" member code. The tickets sold out on in a matter of minutes and I wasn't able to get a single ticket.**

I think she's creating an eighth level of hell for sisters who are unable to secure final show Celine Dion tickets.

**Note: In my defense, when the ticket sale went live, there was no place on the order site to input a Team Celine member code. I tried everything, but the field for Team Celine members didn't go live until about 10 minutes after the presale began. Once that happened, the tickets were sold out. Not much more I can do.

Marie Antoinette

If I dated women, it would probably be someone like Sofia Coppola. I think Marc Jacobs and I are on the same wavelength there.

I agree with Moonrat: Manohla Dargis sucks. And so does A.O. Scott. Whenever they dog anything, I'm almost certain that I'll love it, and I really enjoyed Marie Antoinette.

Sofia Coppola's talent is stylization and she pulls through with this movie. It was a punk period movie, and I dug it. The costumes and the music were asynchronous, in a good way, and I thought Rip Torn, Jason Schwartzmann, and Asia Argento were exceptional. Granted, Kirsten Dunst gave a take it or leave it kind of performance, but the camera loves her. Lucky girl.

The best thing about this DVD is, without a doubt, the special features, especially: Cribs with Louis XVI. Holy crap was that funny. Jason Schwartzmann is dressed as Louise Seize, who hilariously presents Versailles like a rapper.

"Yo, this is the hall of mirrors. Which is basically a hall full of mirrors. While I'm walking, I can check myself, before I wreck myself."

"This is the bedroom, the place where it all happens. That's a painting of my wife, Marie Antoinette, my woman, my goddess, my everything."

"This is the rec room where we play cards, craps, [shakes hands like throwing dice] and dominos."

"This is the velvet room, which is made of 100% red velvet. The ceiling is made of 100% pure painting."



I caved in and I'm taking a sick day. It's now more complicated than just mustering the strength and forcing myself in to work. Now I'm having trouble breathing and I can't ignore that. My worst nightmare is having an asthma attack on the subway because I'd probably die from a lack of oxygen before they would be able to get me any help.

So, today is Netflix day. Here's my agenda:

  1. Marie Antoinette
  2. An Inconvenient Truth
  3. The Wire: Season 1, Disc 3

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Cubicle folk

I'm mildly encouraged by the fact that these top political bloggers at The American Prospect--who use more brainpower each day than I do in a year--are relegated to a cubicle like me. I'm also thrilled that Matt Yglesias has allowed me to see what the hallowed halls of TAP look like. Not so hallow.

Today is Not Valentine's Day

Today is the day:

  1. a guy elbowed me in the face while I was waiting for a bus and dented my glasses. (To the asshole guy in the puffy Giants Starter jacket: Fuck you. Hard.)
  2. a 300-lb man sat on my knee, while I was napping on the train. (Napping because of #4.) . I winced in pain and he looked at me like I inconvenienced him.
  3. a sweet and mild mannered, but stupid unagented author didn't read his contract and created a legal quagmire that I have to deal with because my boss is on leave.
  4. I was sick and had to go to work to deal with #3, and a dozen other fires that are burning.
  5. that I became a hypocrite and didn't buy a single card, gift, or anything for anyone I care about for V-day because 1) payday is tomorrow, 2) I've been sick since Sunday and have only had the strength to go to work and come home, and 3) I suck.
  6. that should have been a snow day.
  7. that should have been Friday.

Today is anything but Valentine's Day. So, for anyone else who either screwed up or felt screwed by this holiday, I'm rescheduling it for President's Day. So it is written, so it shall be done. Now we all have a second chance.

P.S. Now I'm going to go buy these shoes because my feet were ice blocks today.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Praying for a Snow Day

I know I used my once in a lifetime Bart Simpson pray-for-a-snow-day ticket back in 1996, but I'm desperate. I need a snow day!

I could take a sick day tomorrow because I'm genuinely sick and I really shouldn't go into the office tomorrow, but that's not good enough. If I don't go to work, everyone else will, and I'll be doubly busy on Thursday. I need work everywhere--or at least at my company--to cease for one day, just so I can recover from my cold and not be buried by the catch up stuff.

Please, please, please, please, please, please SNOW HARD ALL NIGHT LONG. And melt all the salt in the city and pull the spark plugs out of every snow plow, so Bloomberg can't impress us with his ability to make this city function. Just one day!

Monday, February 12, 2007

Hello, my name is Tan-Tan

Before I became this phelgmy mess of a human being, I went to a remarkably fun party yesterday. I know what you're thinking, "Blue, at a party?" but it gets even stranger. The party's theme was "I Heart Filipinos." Yes, I went to a party, there were a lot of Filipinos there, my parents didn't drag me, and I went willingly.

In my defense, I was told that there would be a Wii and good food. Sold. In fact, I brought my own wiimote, because that's how Asian I am, and I even took party pics, which are flashing in the sidebar as I write this. Cute detail of the party: we thad to wear name tags with our Filipino names.

I've always prided myself in being a loner among Filipinos. I told myself things like: I'm different from them, I'm a first generation American, they don't understand me, and I'm not an effing nurse. Alas, I found myself in a room full of Filipinos who are just like me and it felt pretty good to not feel so original anymore.

I'm looking forward to the next party, which will be themed, "I Hate Filipinos," and the food will be from a range of countries that have colonized the Philippines at one time or another. Awesome.

Funny side story:

I attended the party with Moonie and her bf because I refused to go without them. About a week before the party, we first had to convince her bf to come, and especially to something themed "I Heart Filipinos." (We're one in the same in our self-hate.) Moonie and I were eating dumplings at the super cheap dumpling place when we were trying to convince her bf--via cell--to come to the party. At one point, she handed me the phone and the conversation went something like this:

Bf: I don't know. Where is this party again?

Me: Brooklyn.

Bf: Well, aren't there going to be a lot of Filipinos there?

Me: Oh, no. There are going to be BLACK PEOPLE too!!! (in my overexcited, terribly loud voice)

[two black girls turn around in the dumpling line and look straight at me]

I can only assume that I confused rather than offended those two girls, considering that my voice bubbled over with enthusiasm when saying the words "black people." Yes, I'm a social retard.

Casting Call

Nikki and I will be holding an open casting call all this week in order to fill the open position to complete our triad. As I previously mentioned, Moonie has moved on to greener pastures and is an editorial ass no more. No matter, she was always too good to be an editorial ass and there's only room for one ass around here anyway.

Qualified applicants will be a female, smart ass type, and a book lover with an undying love for cupcakes, chocolate, and all things sweet. Plus for applicants with a comprehensive knowledge of pop culture and fashion, although unnecessary. In fact, a lack of said knowledge may be completely endearing.

To apply, please click here.

Sniffle, sniffle, cough

It's that time of year again, folks. I'm sick and all I can think about is how on earth I got sick. Was it that woman on the train that coughed on me? Was it from holding the subway pole without gloves on? I've got the sniffles, a mild body ache that I know is only going to get worse, and I think I'm getting a fever and a sore throat.

Yes, I want your pity.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

A Valentine's Day Plea

Before I met hugguhbear (a time we like to call either Never, NeverTime, or BH [Before Hugguh]), I was very lonely and bitter about love. Leading up to Valentine's Day during my freshman year in college, I told all my friends that I would wear black in protest of a stupid Hallmark holiday. Of course, all this bitterness was just a facade, a tough girl act, to cover my sadness for being alone, yet again, on V-day.

A guy friend of mine (a lot of my friends freshman year were boys, but I think I'll save that for another post) gave me a simple V-day card that changed my mind about the holiday forever. In his card, G. told me that the holiday isn't about having a boyfriend and getting presents, but about celebrating love and the act of loving. I had a lot people in my life, new and old, who loved me just the way I was and that was cause for celebration.

I'm sure G. never realized how much that one, very thoughtful card influenced me. It opened my heart to possibilities, and later that summer hugguhbear became an intrinsic part of my life.

(I have a point, I promise.)

Now, G. and I were genuinely just friends. In fact, he was my roommate's boyfriend, but he was also just the kind of guy who would celebrate the holiday with all the people he cared for, not just his girlfriend. That little card meant so much to me and so many people could benefit from his V-day practice.

My Valentine's Day Plea is mostly for any guy readers out there (but, it can also apply to the ladies): make a big deal out of February 14th and tell people in your life how much they mean to you. It only takes a card, or a thoughtful conversation, to tell someone that they're special, because it means a lot. I think men don't really understand how much angst women get over this single day, so please don't pick this one day to be the day that you'll rebel against society and ignore the holiday because it'll only upset someone, no matter what you think.

Michigan: get your shit together and tell Nikki you love her and want to be with her. Please!

C.: enough of this covert boyfriend behavior and sweep Justice off her feet already!

F.: honestly, I don't really have anything to say because I know you'll make Moonie feel special.

Public service announcement over. Thank you.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Sorry hugguhbear!!!!

So, I created a Google Group tonight devoted to wedding planning and I invited a bunch of people from the wedding party to join. Funny thing is, I forgot to invite the groom. D'oh!

I'm so sorry! I'm publicly announcing my stupidity in the hopes that you'll let this one just blow over.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007


New obsession: the Friends feature on Netflix.

My dear friend, Justice, invited me to be her friend yesterday and it's the coolest feature Netflix has to offer. You can see what movies/TV shows are in your friends' queues and you can leave messages for your friends about titles in their queues or titles they've reviewed.

Anyone wanna be my friend? Holler in the comments section. Once we're connected, you'll be able to spy on my Netflix picks and see just how much TV on DVD I watch. It's embarassing, I promise.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Jack Bauer on Dysfunctional Families

Seriously man, you can NOT let your brother torture you three times in three hours. That just makes you look bad.

So, I guess when your brother won't give you the information you need, you bring out the big guns and shoot him up with sodium penathol for that good ol' burning sensation throbbing through every vein in your body. Pause, and then shoot him up with two more ccs.

And if that doesn't work, you let your dad finish the job for you.

Anyone remember that drug commercial where this kid's dad looks in his son's closet and finds a box full of pot? Then the dad indignantly shakes the box in his son's face and asks him, "Who taught you how to do this stuff?" And the son weepily says, "You, Dad! I learned it by watching you!"

So, in 24land, Jack's Dad indignantly shakes the syringe of sodium penathol in Jack's face and asks him who taught him how to do this stuff. Yeah, according to last night, Jack learned it by watching his dad. (I'm being purposely vague here because I hate accidental spoilers.)

Talk about a fucked up family.

Pretty, pretty, pretty (Spring 2007)

Considering my most recent bag acquisitions, this one is seriously a bargain. And so cute too!

Silver Surfer, make it happen!


Team Player

In an email thread earlier today, Nikki brought up the subject of team players and how she's not one. I had a few words to say about that, but I decided to save it for this forum (and give the IT department fewer inappropriate emails to rifle through from my work account).

In my humble opinion, an office team player is a euphemism for person who bends over and takes it up the ass. I'm ashamed to say that I've been a team player for a while now. It's one of the things my boss likes about me. When the department's a (wo)man down, I try and pick up a little slack to keep the ship afloat. When a new person starts, I take them under my wing and show them the ropes.

But, when you toil and toil in a job where you don't feel like you're truly appreciated, the "team player" bullshit starts to get old really quickly. Not only do you stop picking up the slack or showing somebody the ropes, but you start to actively not participate. I feel sorry for Moonrat's replacement because I don't know what he/she will get from me. We have the kind of job that you learn to do mostly from kindness and wisdom of others. I'm afraid that I'm bone dry of that happy, fuzzy stuff.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

MIss Video Game Award

Just when I thought I found a pageant that I might be able to qualify for (no bathing suit required), I catch a glimpse of the competition for the Miss Video Game Award and am crestfallen.

Apparently, there are lot of hot girl gamers out there and they're all applying for this award. 15 games, 5 platforms, no holds barred.

I know I'm not cut out for this because 1. I don't know what platform I'll be required to play and there are several platforms I've never played before (Atari, Genesis, ColecoVision, possibly even the freakin' NGage, etc.), so it's tough to practice for this, and 2. I'm so not hot enough. I'm just not. I can pull off innocent, cute (on my best days), and sweet, but words like "hot" or "sexy" will never be adjectives next to my name. I know my limit.

Before the gaming starts, you first need to qualify through the first round, which is basically a popularity contest. This is more proof that no matter how old you get, people can always make you feel like the unpopular geek you thought you left behind in junior high school. Yuck and yuck.

As soon as I discovered this, I didn't even bother. People will obviously only vote for the hot girls and whether you're a good gamer or not doesn't even matter if you can't make it through this round of qualifications.

Screw that. Let's rise up and vote for the not-so hot girls who list their favorite games to be ones like Zelda OOT or Mario 64. Power to the average looking girl!


While my boss is away, this is supposed to be my opportunity to shine and demonstrate my potential and hidden abilities at work. I can edit! I can acquire! I can be confident, attend meetings where higher management people will look at me and expect me to voice my opinions and be eloquent at the drop of a hat!

It's become clear to me that I can only attempt to achieve his level of excellence by coming in to work at 7am and leaving after 7pm, and working seventeen times harder than I normally do. No human being can sustain this.

I don't have the natural ability to do this and it makes me sad.

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Proenza Schouler for Target

I know I've been saving money for the wedding and blah blah blah, but seriously, it's Proenza Schoueler at Target prices. I'm so there and getting this bubble jacket on the far right.


So excited! Got tickets to see The Decemberists at Avalon in Boston (March) and The Frames at Town Hall in New York (April). I may not be able to record any video of either shows, first because the bouncers at Avalon will throw my yellow ass out of the place if they see me with a camera and second because they'll probably be even stricter at Town Hall. Sigh.

That doesn't mean that I won't try.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Bad blogger

I'm sorry I've been away. This week of work has been hard, to say the least. One of my bosses is out on paternity leave since his wife just had an adorable baby girl, and now I have to function as this horribly overworked hybrid of being my own boss and my own assistant.

I'm so tired. I'll be back soon...I promise.