Being happy is far less fruitful for blog-fodder than being depressed. See: eight gazillion posts about hating my job. But thing have been looking up, I’ve got sort of a plan, I’m pumped about my sister’s impending wedding, and summer is off to a fun (if humid) start. No one likes to hear about this stuff. Even if you are yourself happy, it’s obnoxious to hear people, say, gushing on Facebook about how happy they are. However, this blog is read by roughly four people that actually possibly give a shit about my life (or have already read all the Buzzfeed) so here it is:
Things to Love
Umm, it’s summer. Like, literally last week I was cranking heat in my car and wearing sweaters. This week it’s sandals and windows down and lemonade and Bar A. Finally!
All the TV. Seriously, I love TV, it’s the best. Game of Thrones has been dragging a little, but I’m not even mad because I know what it’s headed toward. Eeeek! Survivor was first crazy, then the BEST EVER, then slid to a predictable but utterly satisfying ending. The Mindy Project is my new favorite thing, and the latest show that “omg you HAVE to be watching.” One time her boyfriend got up and accidentally put on her jeans; the waist was too big and he joked that he looked like he was in a LapBand commercial; she hid, mortified, under the pillow; he asked where his tie was and she yelled, “Leave it! I need it to hang myself with!” She perfectly gives lie to the guy’s girl/girl’s girl dichotomy, and, yes, you SHOULD be watching that show!
New Orleans. A town of hedonism, open containers, alligators (who love marshmellows), delicious seafood, good music, $5 rain ponchos, and one raucous bachelorette party. I’d have to start an anonymous blog to say more, but it was the BEST.
It’s “Song of Summer” season, and I haven’t heard a winner yet. The Song of Summer is like a soulmate, you’ll know it when you find it. Current also-rans include: Icona Pop’s “I Love It”, though not really eligible because it came out months ago. Justin Timberlake, “Mirrors”, but not a strong contender because everyone but me seems inexplicably to prefer the doofy “Suit and Tie.” Selena Gomez’s “Come and Get It,” which is the manifestation of the faux pop star with the faux Indian aesthetic in the underrated Hugh Grant/Drew Barrymore rom-com Music & Lyrics; also, only has four words in it, but they are four catchy words. Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, “Can’t Hold Us”: the most earnest contender I see at present. That is, except for Daft Punk and Pharrell’s “Get Lucky.”
Wedding fever (but only for my sister’s.) Bachelorette last month was amaze. Bridal shower next month should make good on the promise of the “grown-up” bachelorette party the family asked for, especially when it’s inevitably followed by one of our notorious after-parties (we after-partied a baby shower.) Wedding professionals surely love this wedding party, whose underlying thematic tie is of course indecision. An exchange between me, Alli, Adam, and the cake baker: “What did you have in mind?” [Shrugging.] “Okay, do you want something more traditional or funky?” [Mumbling.] “What about white or color?” “Erm, either could be good.” “Do you want fondant?” “What do people normally do?” She loved us. (No she didn’t.)
Wasabi peas as a snack. Mostly because a large proportion of people don’t know what they are on sight, and you can casually offer a taste before explaining what they are, which is horrible for the other person but hilarious for me.
Sundresses. Someone at work recently commented on remembering “Pigtails Kristi,” which then prompted a trot down Memory Lane to recall “Blonde Kristi”, “Redhead Kristi”, and something called “Sundress Kristi”, which seemed arbitrary; apparently, I used to wear a lot of sundresses to work. In the spirit of it being way too hot for pants, I’m reviving this version of myself.
The return of Arrested Development. MARRY ME.
Things to Shun
Clara Oswin Oswald, the latest Doctor Who companion. There’s always a bit of skepticism involved when the Doctor picks someone new to travel with, but in their half-season together, the Impossible Girl’s story has felt unfairly compressed and her season-ending a bit unearned. Oh, she’s the girl that totally saved the Doctor’s entire life? Whatever. Still less than Rose, Amy, Rory, Donna, Martha, Captain Jack, and even less than that chubby roommate he had that one time (Stormageddon’s father!)
The new Escondido’s. It deeply saddens me to report that our local $3 margarita hotspot has gotten a generically “classy” Bar Rescue-esque makeover, which includes the ABOLITION of the 9 to close happy hour we’d come to know and love! Also, not to be old, but who replaces booths with high top tables and no-back stools? Ugh.
Broken air conditioning. I’m wasting away.