Thanks Dad.

Dad: So what are you doing for lent this year?
Rachel: I'm gonna limit myself to one diet coke and try to drink at least two liters of water a day.
Dad: I know a guy who died from drinking too much water.

Awesome. Thats my dad! Full of knowledge! After I had already had two liters of water and started my third we had this conversation. My dad knew none of the specifics of the dead man, just that he drank too much water. So I googled "death by over-hydration" (lies. I think I put in, "what happens when you drink to much water?") and that whole 8 glasses a day thing is aparently a bunch of hooey. Don't you love that I get all of my scientific information from a site that has "-a gogo" in the title? Aparently, drinking water hurts you. Nay. It is deadly. What do I do? Keep researching AND drinking, until I've consumed about three-quarters of my third liter. Then I go get Hot Chocolate, because I have to have my 4:00 Swiss Miss break or I've lived my day in vain.

Then the hypochondia starts kicking in. Now I'm dealing with a massive stomache (because I'm dying) and (of course) I have to pee because Wow! does 2.75 liters of water really flow through the system!

The thing that pisses me off the most? Besides the fact that I could drop dead at any minute from something as stupid as drinking too much water? I have to rethink my Lentent-whatever. I thought I was so clever and now...I'm just an idiot who needs to pee.

cowboy fridays.

Best thing I've heard all day.

A woman (model?) greets man in fashion industry, "You're looking very Brokeback Mountain today."

Come on now part 2: Electric Bugaloo

Oh MAN, Sasha!

So. I'm a figure skating dork, and a gymnastics dork. Its something that I've been afflicted with since I was a kid, who desperatly wanted to be a gymnast and a figure skater but was too poor with not enough flexability and who really liked food.

They're the only two sports I care about when it comes to Olympics and this year I didn't even bother to watch the women's skating because I hate Sasha Cohen in that completely irrational Almost-Stole-The-Gold-From-Michelle-Kwan (who is my hero and I love and totally want to go get white wine and Italian food with) kind of way. But she was on Project Runway and she was our best shot. So I was kinda stoked. I thought maybe she could pull it off.




Aparently not.

(ed note: I totally abandonned this blog as I answered the sweet siren song of free food, but I do have more to say on this completely useless topic...)

Okay. I feel bad for the girl. I really do because to have that much talent and artistry and have no ability to perform under pressure must totally suck. I can understand why she didn't rehearse when she was supposed to that whole, psych the other people out to calm myself down kind of thing, but it obviously did not work. So, even though she is not Michelle Kwan and on the basis of that alone I kind of still have to hate her, I also feel crazy amounts of pity. ALSO!? How is it possible that she fell twice and still got the silver?! I don't quite understand this new judging system (mostly because I just don't have enough time to care) but I feel the need to call shennanigans on a system that lets someone crash and burn twice and still medal. Also, peace out mini-Hughes. I guess genetics just weren't enough.

come on now...

Does anyone buy into those eharmony.com commercials?

For some reason there has been an influx of them on my TV screen and instead of focusing my attention on boring things like the paper due in six hours and the turkey bacon burning in the pan (...again) I have actually tried to watch them and look at these couples. My first assumption is that they're actors and pretty heinous ones at that. It really doesn't take that much to act/pretend like you love someone. The least you can do is make eye contact (something none of these winners' acting teachers ever bothered to tell them).

So if they aren't actors which I sometimes think (due to their heinous line readings) then Yikes! These people have long, miserable lives ahead of them with this person who they think the love but (as anyone with eyes and a TV can see) obviously don't.

And also, in every single couple there is one ugly person. Occasionally the inner monologue of the attractive one comes out and I hear, "Ohmigod! Why is my fake soul mate so ugly?! Damn you eharmony and your personality profile! Why do I love someone so attrocious?!"

Bad TV is my friend when I don't have a job

So I went into Express on Friday because I hadn't been in there in a while and I was in a "I should buy something for me because who else will" kind of mood and I saw this:



There is only ONE person in the whole entire world who can get away with wearing a crochet vest. And that is Leslie Burke from "Saved By the Bell: The College Years" (who isn't photographed on the internet anywhere) and she could only do it because it was the early 90's and she was supposed to be WASP-y.

In my desperate search for a picture of Leslie Burke (who has a real name but doesn't have enough cred for me to use it and for anyone to know who she is) I stumbled upon the imdb site for the original Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (and by stumbled upon I mean I put it in the search box because this morning in my semi-comatose state I ended up watching the first episode and laughing (on the inside, it was pretty early)) because there was a point in my life where I loved that show at about the same level I love the Housewives at (its not quite the weekly event as Grey's but its still to be celebrated). Any-WAY while noodling around seeing if anyone but Amy Jo Johnson had managed to parlay that pile of Japanese Recycled Poop into any sort of career and aparently the answer is a resounding "No!" and then I found out that the Yellow Ranger (and how fucked up is it that they made the Asian chick the Yellow Ranger?) died in 2001. Sad because I'm sure that in her obit it pretty much said, "The Asian chick who was on Power Rangers for one season died today."

In other news. Greys Anatomy (which is good tv, in case there was some confusion). I'm not gonna go into too much detail but the whole thing with George and Meredith?! Why nine times out of ten I don't tell people how I actually feel because no good is going to come from that pile of sex-mess. Also, while some of my friends are dirty Merediths and others are poor Georges, I think I've figured out that I'm a pre-doer Izzie. I would love to be a post-doer Izzie, but thats gonna take some time, mostly because I didn't have a bomb scare to jump start it. Also, I love Shonda Rhimes's post in the Writer's Blog to all the internet crazies who thought that maybe HotKyle hadn't died. It basically says "Stop being so weird and crazy, he's totally dead.

Just like the Yellow Ranger.

And the crochet vest.

All Better

My Valentine's Day ended up being just fine. I got to my post office box and encountered the best V-day present of all time.



Though Amazon said I wouldn't get them until the 20th, the sly devils made sure they were in the box to let me know that even if I die alone at least I can look at pretty people on my TV. Which I did. Until 2 AM that night. Lame? Totally. But it is such good TV and even though I knew all the twists and turns that were gonna happen, I still got all riled up. That last scene where Addison shakes Meredith's hand? Awesome. I love me some Addison. The major flaw in the OD of Grey's I've had in the past two days? Ellen Pompeo's voice, which is slightly grating most of the time, but after 6 solid hours (no judging) makes you want to punch her in the vocal chords. Also, George's hair is awful. Thank goodness they got that poor boy a stylist.

Other things that entertained me post V-day:
Today, on the 14th day of the month of February, Saint Valentine came forth from the heveans and proclaimed unto the people of the earth, that Sex is really really good and people should have more of it. So the people had sex, and it was good, and there was more of it.

My brother. Who sometimes is funnier than me. Actually, most of the time. But we work best as a team.

I got the new Margaret Atwood book and I've only read the first chapter because I've had school reading (Ew.) but that was enough to ispire me to re-write the beginning of my not-so-great American novel (tm Courtney).

According to imdb (which is obviously the best place to get news) Paris Hilton has been approached to play Mother Teresa in some sort of biopic. Uhhhh....what?! Friggin seriously?!




Ninja, Please.

The obligatory "I'm gonna die alone" Day post.

The only good things about Valentine's Day? An excuse to pink-ify my wardrobe for the day, My mom sending me an awesome tee-shirt (which is a relatively new tradition but totally my favorite, last year the shirt had a map of the Czech Republic and said Czech Yourself...awesome), and Febuary 15th when Duane Reade puts all the candy on sale and I get a bag of Conversation Hearts for 50 cents (I know they taste like chalk, but they taste like delicious chalk so shut up).

Other than that, It really just makes me sad. It shouldn't because it really should be a celebration of everyone I love: Family, Friends, Hot Celebrities but I celebrate these people everyday. I shower these people with love and affection all the time, so when Febuary 14th rolls around I just am forced to realize the hole in my life that has been created by Hallmark. Had I not been told to share this day with the one, I wouldn't even notice he wasn't here.

And so far today I've seen three flower deliveries come in and its my job to say, "Hey you have a delivery from someone who loves you. Lucky you. Go die." or something to that affect. They get happy, I get depressed because I have never had flowers sent to me. Ever. Except once for my 16th birthday by my godmother. Thanks Annie.

And I KNOW this makes me totally lame in that whole fish-bicycle mindset that I say I ascribe to but, its true. I'm sad that I'm all alone and while I joke about it a lot, my greatest fear is that I will always be all alone. I mean, duh, I will always have my friends and family and celebrity-imaginary boyfriends, but I know that that isn't quite enough to live a completely fufilled life. How can you possibly live a whole life without having at least one.great.love.?

Courtney discussed the idea of potential being the best part of single life. The fact that any time you walk into a new room, new situation, new moment you could meet that person who compliments you so perfectly. However, I feel that I've walked into so many new rooms and met so many new faces, that there couldn't possibly be anymore that are any different from the ones I've already met. But Courtney's glass is always half full to my half empty.

And sometimes I meet people who I think could possibly be that one, even for a little while and 99% of the time they want nothing to do with me, so once again I reaffirm the idea that some people are just meant to be alone forever and what if that includes me?

That stupid fucking John Mayer song came on my ipod this morning on the train and I know it makes me a loser, but I totally love it.

So tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here

...Seriously.

My remembory

So. It seems that I have a problem. No wait. I have several problems. Actually it goes beyond several. I'm fairly certain the the number of problems I have actually out-numbers the number of things that are normal and healthy with me. Chew on that poorly-constructed sentance for awhile.

There is something seriously (seriously) wrong with my memory.

Things I can remember:
The outfit I was wearing on any sort of memorable or important day. More often than not I can remember outfits that I was wearing on less than important days too. My great grandmothers funeral? A crushed velvet purple turtle neck sweater, a black velvet knee length skirt, black tights, and black mary-janes. And? Silver bendy clips. The day before my first day of Summer stock? My Abercrombie jeans, and a pink J.Crew Polo and pink Reef flipflops. This is a family trait that I share with my mother's family. We all have this talent to an extent but I go above and beyond anyone with it, I can very often remember what other people were wearing on dates of importance.

Random, obscur quotes from television shows. There's a shtick my brother and I do about a nutterbutter that makes my mom pee herself with laughter, she didn't know until Christmas break that it's from an episode of Friends circa 1996.

Factoids about random celebrities. I dominate at the Kevin Bacon game. Dom.in.ate. While watching a movie someone can ask, "Hey, who's that guy?" and nine times out of ten, I'll know his name, what you saw him in and some random piece of trivia about his life.

New York City Metro System. I've lived here for less than four years and spent one of them walking every where and yet can get anywhere in any of the 5 boroughs (with the exception of Statan Island and far away parts of Brooklyn and Queens).

So okay? I have a great memory. No. Not at all. Today I deposited my paychecks. Plural because I can not remember to go pick them up every week until I have four dollars in my checking account and realize that I have a month of back paychecks. This is not a joke. The week before I went home for Christmas I went to pick up, what I assumed was, a single paycheck. I had seven. Se-ven checks waiting for me. The people at my agency think I'm mildly retarded I have no doubt because I come and they're like, "yea, heres a check from September stupid face." So I deposit them and I get my lunch and I'm walking along and I stop in the middle of 5th ave. Did I finish my transaction at the ATM (yes, I deposit checks at the ATM, I'm really lazy)? Did I just leave with the "what would you like to do now with your money?" screen still flashing? Did the next person come up behind me and go, "Score! That dumb girl just left me all seven dollars in her bank account!"?

I, seriously, could not remember. I assume (read: pray) that there are precautions in place at Citibank to protect the nimrods like myself. Then I call my mother to say Hi because I'm a good daughter. And I get her on the phone knowing I have a question to ask her. Knowing that there is a post-it note on my laptop with a question, circled, to ask her. I'm on the phone with her for ten minutes and I can't remember it. Then I hang up and it immediatly comes to me. So I have to call her back and she judges me...harshly.

I will go through half my day then wonder if I remembered to turn off my flat iron.

I forget that I'm lactose intolerant and wonder why I'm doubled over with stomach cramps after a cup of Chocolate Milk.

I always forget to lock the door to my apartment, which gives my roommate heart palpitations.

I don't know why my brain works like this. I'm assuming that it's because I've stuffed it with so much crap knowledge its just decided to make room by trashing the other stuff.

Our Nationwide Nightmare is Over!

I found Reece's hearts! For those of you who live under concrete, the fine people at Hershey's now make Reece's Cups in various shapes for various holidays. If I am talking at you for long enough you will hear me sing the praises of these oversized kitchy chocolates because of the chocolate to peanut butter ratio that is so vastly increased in these seasonal pieces of heaven.

So, normally I stock up around the beginning of every retail heavy holiday (sadly there are no Labor day reece's cups) but for some reason I dropped the ball in mid-january when all the St. Valentine's Day stuff started hitting the shelves (I blame on the deep deep post-holiday-not-in-south-africa depression I had for most of the month of January, it was clouding my judgement, as was the artic temperature) so in the past few weeks I've started nosing around CVS and Duane Reade and there were NO heart shaped Reece's Cups. Obviously I was distraught, so I put a call into Teeny because retailers in Conneticut are much more civilized and would never run out of such a precious necessity. They had some, she stocked up for my up coming visit, but my ID was running rampant and was channeling Veruca Salt. I wanted those bitches, NOW. So today, with 4 hours of nothing to do and being stood up by Isabel I wandered into Walgreens...a pharmacy I don't normally go to only because I hate the voice of their commercials. And there they were! Individual and Packages. I've already eaten 2. They tasted like heaven. They are in a tie in the running for being my Valentine.

The other is obviously the Season 1 DVD of Grey's Anatomy which should be hitting a post office box near me on the 15th or 16th if Amazon keeps it's promise. I could not be more excited, especially after last nights episode which I almost didn't watch, but I wasn't gonna let a pesky college assignment stand in the way of a suffering Dr. McDreamy. Or a crying Bailey. Oh, god. Crying Bailey=Sobbing like a two year old Rachel.

In other news, I bought my very last school notebook, and yes, I cried a little. Its the end of an era people! I'm really picky about my notebooks and I was really upset when Target let me down and didn't have the one I wanted (5 subject five-star minibook, college ruled with a blue cover if you're playing along at home) but I got a purple 3 subject Target brand one which is pretty and shiny so distracts me from the fact that my last semester of college is starting without the right notebook and any clue about the rest of my life.

I also got an adorable skirt for Free People, A new hot pink comforter and a plane ticket to/from Chicago to help keep me from getting to depressed.

P.S. you can buy that sweet shirt at the top from Glarkware in the TWoP section. And you should because its Hawt.

Stay tuned for my review of the Diet Cherry Vanilla Coke that I bought this afternoon. If it doesn't put me in a diabetic coma.