Attention Online Shoppers!

One of my favorite things to do is online window shopping. I adore it. There’s something about looking through thousands of outfits without getting out of your pajamas or your computer chair that seems a million times better than the mall. Another wonderful thing about window shopping is being able to put your items in your “shopping bag,” seeing how much it will all cost you and opting out for the cheapest route by not buying anything.

            I am one of those online window shoppers who receives all the e-mails and Facebook messages about what’s on sale, what is new, stuff like that. And lately I have been stalking these e-mails thoroughly because I’m hunting for a graduation dress. Then I saw this little treasure from one of the stores I usually shop: Prairie Romance wear.

            When you see something called Prairie Romance wear on your computer in the 21^st century, excuse my language, but you sure as hell look into it. I clicked the magic link that brought me to an eye sore of floral, plaid, tans and roses, and some Amish looking hats. I love fashion as much as the next crazed 20-something girl who wakes up at 9am on a Saturday so she can get to the clothes first and faster, but the amount of floral hurt my eyes just glancing at it. I might have to actually wear my glasses now to heal my corneas.

            I too went through the I-wear-grandma’s-couch-as-a-dress days back in the early nineties when I didn’t actually dress myself. But these women parading around in floral cocktail dresses, pearls, leather high heels and socks with bows on them actually got paid to do it. What’s even worse it if someone actually bought it.

            Granted, most of my knowledge comes from the Little House on the Prairie books, but I am sure women on the prairie never had frilly socks, cocktail dresses or pearls when they were walking miles for clean water, working back-breaking long hours in the garden for like four potatoes, giving birth to ten children or constantly sweeping all that dirt out of their constant dusty log cabins.

            What’s next fashion world? Civil war wear for the modern day working woman?

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue, Blah, Blah, Blah

It was that time of year on Monday. V Day. VD Day. Happy Single’s Awareness Day. Whatever you call it, there is no way in avoiding the very secular holiday of Valentine’s Day. Across my travels and observations of the last 21 years, I have discussed there are many different ways in which a person can celebrate Valentine’s Day. Here are a few:

The We-Aren’t-Going-to-Get-Each-Other-Something-But-If-You-Don’t-I’ll-Be-Pissed: Long title, I know. It is long for a reason too, because you can’t capture the magic of the Valentine practice without it. You know the couple. The ones that say they are so secure about their relationship, they don’t need one day out of the year to prove their love for each other. Blah, blah, blah. Then, the 14^th comes around and there is no flowers, chocolate, Hallmark card and/or giant stuffed bear and they are pissed at each other for a week until they literally kiss and make up. Trust me, it happens. My advice to you: Talk. There’s nothing more to say. Tell your significant other that you want something—even a hand written card would work. There’s no shame in telling that special someone you like the holiday.

The Flashers: Yep, this sounds dirty, but it really isn’t. I needed the term to empathize my point. Do I have your attention? Good. Flashers are those people who go out and buy/receive a dozen red roses, get that large box of Whitman’s, and get a ridiculously giant sized bear that will probably be a size nuisance in about three weeks. They are the people who show everyone that they are in a relationship. My advice: though I am happy you have found love and are enthusiastic about it, turn it down a little. Just for the rest of us. We live in this world too. Let’s share.

The Super Secret Anonymous Valentine: We’ve all seen these in movies. The girl/guy who gets flowers delivered or a loving note and wonders—who is this from? Who could have a crush on me? *Insert blush here* Even though that person knows that it is Johnny from chemistry class who has been sneaking you heart-felt glances every so often. My advice: do what you will. If you like this person, go for it. If you don’t, then don’t do anything. The choice is really up to you. Sometimes it is just easier for someone to admit their true feelings when the environment calls for it.

The Cupids: Goes along with the super secret anonymous valentine. The Cupid is the carrier of the cards, the flaunter of the flowers, the teddy bear benefactor. This is the person who surprises that special someone. My advice: Good for you. You keep the spirit of this holiday alive by showing love and risk. It may or may not pay off, but at least you tried and that is what matters most.

The Passers: These are those people who really really really hope that guy/girl will ask them out on such a romantic occasion. We’ve all had that friend with the sick fantasies about a relationship that is probably going to never happen because your friend doesn’t realize he/she has to make the first move. My advice to you: Don’t sit by. He/she does NOT have telekinesis. Use your words.

The Ba-Humbuggers: These are the people are those ones that draw the blinds, stay in their pajamas all day and curse the day the card company ever decided this was a holiday. Most likely, the Humbugger has a pint of Ben and Jerry’s or two. My advice to this people: you do have people who love you, such as friends, parents, pets, who appreciate you and love you and you should repay them back. The world will not end because you don’t have a significant other.

The “Friendly” Fiend: This is the person who gets all those Valentine joys from a multitude of gentlemen/lady callers. The person others call very “lovable” to be nice. My advice: save some men/ladies for the rest of us, please!

Do some calculations and be honest with yourself. I’m sure you will discover which one you are. I’ll let you guess which one I was this Valentine’s Day. I will give you a hint—I got flowers.

Snow Slum

            Some of you probably read my article from December that expressed my desperation for a snow storm. Fast forward into the future and here I am, walking around snow banks that are taller than me. And the kicker is, we didn’t have to sacrifice anyone to the snow gods—this actually came naturally.

            Now a majority of you remembered that last week was Groundhog’s Day. You don’t recall? Well, maybe that is because the groundhog was buried in snow because of that day’s snow storm.

            When I was younger, a.k.a. when I was in high school, I used to wish more than anything that the groundhog would not see its shadow. I remember from the show Little Bear that used to be on Nick Jr. that a shadow scared away the groundhog and that no shadow didn’t (probably youtube the video and you won’t forget). So I wished and wished and wished. And every single year the groundhog saw his shadow and went to sleep for another six weeks. Now, I have no objections for sleeping a little later, but WAKE UP, GROUNDHOG! It is time to be out and about, dancing around and making all that snow do away.

            I must say, the worst part about this winter/spring situation is that, since I live on the third floor of a house, I wake up in the morning and the sun is shining and the temperature is controlled to a nice 71° inside. I instantly believe it is spring. Then I look outside at the ground and the red fire hydrant across the street is almost completely covered in snow and the bleak trees stand like ugly toothpicks jutting out of the ground. I want warmth! I want color! I want spring! I want fruit every color of the rainbow. I want to drink outside while basking in the natural warmth of the sun. I want the little golden dandelions budding from luscious grass. I want the slackers sitting outside, blaring music and tanning when they are supposed to be in class.

            Six more weeks of winter (but probably more) might mean a sacrifice to the spring gods.

Committ to Be Fit-- or Just Do the New Yorker

            During the 36,838,783 snow days we have had lately, my roommates and I have decided to turn to exercise videos for our daily dose of activity. The gym, or “bubble” as many of you know from here it as, is still open during snow days, but it is a 20 minute walk from senior housing on a day with no snow. One of my roommates suggested we use the exercise video her and her mom use at home and, with it being a lazy snow day, we all agreed.

            First of all, I need to say that this video is not your mother’s jazzercise video from the late 80’s/early 90’s where a woman who is or looks like Paula Abdul is wearing a one piece, brightly colored spandex leotard. However, the video we used, Walking with Leslie Sansone, did claim to have “hit music,” which it did—from the 1970’s. Basically, the concept of the video is to walk three miles in place and burn a lot of calories.

            It began with two of my roommates, Daniela and Katie, and me, walking in the middle of our cramped living room with the curtains drawn. Two more of my roommates, C.C. and Ylianna, walked in to make lunch for themselves, but they also started walking with Leslie.

            Then chaos ensued.

            For one, the five of us created a new exercise position called “The New Yorker,” where one power walks in place with a cell phone in one hand and a trenta in the other (which A. if you haven’t heard of a trenta, it is the new 31 oz. size from Starbuck’s and B. one of the roommates walking, C.C., is from Brooklyn and has admittedly done “The New Yorker” on occasion).

            Secondly, we created new names for the women in the music video. Katie, who owned the video said that her and her mom called the fitness instructor, Leslie, Sarah Celine, because she looks like Celine Dion and sounds like Sarah Palin (which is so true, google the woman if you don’t believe me). So, coming into this, we knew we were walking with Sarah Celine. Even though Sarah Celine mentioned all the names of the walkers with her on many instances, we all assigned names to them anyways. There was a woman who looked like Liza Minnelli, who we named “Liza.” There was a woman named Mary, who Sarah Celine said, and I quote, “Mary and I love tag teaming together,” in reference to letting Mary take control of the exercise for two minutes; thus, she became “Tag Team Mary.” There was a woman named Jo, who Sarah Celine referenced to as “Grandma Jo” and the name stuck. And then there was a 60 year old woman named Carol, who lost 65 pounds, and who Sarah Celine kept making fun of the entire video and we came up with a scenario that Carol would come in with a gun.

            If this wasn’t bad enough, we assigned each other characters of the video. Katie became Sarah Celine because she knew the video better than the rest of us. C.C. became Carol, because it is her last name and because Carol had a gun (we tease C.C. that because she is from Brooklyn, she carries a gun). Daniela became Liza, because Liza was the only brunette in the video in a sea of blondes and Daniela was acting like she was a non-conformist. Ylianna became Sarah Celine’s daughter, Maria, because that is her middle name. And I got the reward of being Tag Team Mary, because Katie and I used to share a room last year.

            In the end, the exercise video became more interesting because we were doing it as friends, together, and doing crazy stuff. And luckily, to counter the same repetitious cycle of a single video, Katie bought more. I think I can hear those 1970’s hits starting up…time for Sarah Celine!

To Be Single or Not to Be Single?

 I read Jane Eyre last semester and a statement that my teacher said has been weighing on my mind lately: In the 18^th century, it was better to be married than single, even if the marriage was violent. I have been thinking of this subject a lot lately, especially while watching Sex and the City, and I have come to the conclusion that you could edit that declaration into “In the 21^st century, it is better to be in a relationship than single, even if the relationship is violent.”

Ok, the divorce rate now is 50% and people are waiting till their 30s or 40s to get married, which was not even thinkable in Charlotte Brontë’s time. But think about the times we live in where “in an open relationship” and “it’s complicated” are valid choices for a relationship on Facebook and in society. The term “sex buddies” or “f*ck buddies” are common terminologies for society.

With the terms “sex buddies,” “in an open relationship,” and “it’s complicated” being the norm, the definitions that go with them are pretty much self explanatory—it’s a relationship without the committed. As common as the terminology is the repercussions of a non-committed relationship: someone always gets hurt. Someone always feels a connection with the other person and thinks that if he or she stays with the other person, then there will magically be a happily ever after with a relationship. However, deep down inside, that someone knows that the non-committed relationship will end in tragedy.

The question I am presenting today is, if someone knows he or she will be hurt, then why go through it? Is a non-committed relationship really better than being single? It seems to me that people are trying to escape from being alone, even if he or she knows that the relationship can’t end well. Is being single that scary that one is willing to hurt him or herself?

Jane Eyre still applies to today. Being in sex buddies, it’s complicated or in an open relationship with seems like a luxury, but this will only end in Titanic tragedy.

Senior vs. Senior

While I was home during winter break, I saw my little brother, Kevin, who is a senior in high school, doing things that made me remember my senior year of high school. I wouldn’t say I was nostalgic for high school, but I was reminded of what I used to do compared to my senior year in college now. And let me tell you, senior year of high school was a trip to Disney World compared to senior year in college. (And I’m not saying this because I actually did go on a trip to Disney World in senior year of high school).

When I was a senior in high school, everyone told you your options for the future. In my high school, everyone went to college. Whether they stayed in college was a different topic that was unspoken of. The SATs were something everyone knew about. The guidance counselor would help you with the application process and it only cost 50¢ to send a transcript. Now, senior year in college, no one tells you about the GREs, the general entrance exam to get into grad school. In fact, no one really tells you about the process of getting into grad school, transcripts cost $10, and, to get a job, you need to go searching for someone to help you.

Also, when I was a senior in high school, there was little or no homework. Thus, I could work and I wouldn’t be overwhelmed. During senior year of college, the idea of “free time” doesn’t really exist. I find myself working till 11pm and waking up at 6am in order to just get my homework done for one class the next day.

Another thing about being a senior in high school that was so great was the fun of it being the last year of high school. There was yearbook, superlatives, prom, semis, getting out of school early and more. There was a lot more things to look forward to and to have fun. In college, you work non-stop until graduation and, as soon as that is over, you need to get a job or get into grad school, because you are on your own afterward.

The immense amount of responsibilities associated with senior year in college is directly linked with getting older. Senior year of high school, I was 17 years old. Senior year of college, I am 21 years old. There are certain things that come with being 21 that you didn’t have to worry about when you were 17. But these responsibilities are just a pre-test for the real world, which is 4 months away.  My advice to seniors in high school—enjoy it while you can.

Lies Google and My Vet Told Me

 Recently, the love of my life, my puppy Romeo was neutered. And, as a concerned mommy, I googled on how he would feel after the surgery. The back story to this being that I have had fluffy white little girl dogs my entire life and, although I had been old enough to understand their surgeries, I was totally clueless when it comes to male dogs. I went on several websites and they all seemed to say the same things, and so did my vet, so I believed them. And, as I found out when Romeo came home, it was all LIES. Here are some of the misconceptions I discovered:

Your dog will be lethargic, due to the atheistic, after the surgery for a few days.

Let me tell you, I absolutely love Romeo, but I was excited about this news. Every time I turn around, he is in the garbage, peeing, or battling Carlie. I was ecstatic about Romeo maybe taking a little nap. I even set up a little comfortable bed for him where I could keep an eye on him and he could relax. But this, of course, was a lie. As soon as I put Romeo down on the floor at home, he started running around, chasing Carlie and playing with his toys.

Your dog may have a loss of appetite, so make him food that is soft and appealing.

I was planning ahead of time, freaking out that I didn’t have any hamburger, like the website suggested, to feed him. After his surgery, I gave Romeo his normal dinner and he ate it all. The only special circumstances I had to perform for Romeo with food was to put his bowl on a carpet, so he could sit comfortably and eat.

Your dog may be aggressive towards other pets.

This was probably the worst news I heard, because, obviously, we have two dogs in my household. I thought Carlie and Romeo would need to be separated until Romeo healed, which could be anywhere between two days and two weeks. But, of course, this was a lie. Carlie was the one growling and barking at Romeo, because of his “cone of shame.” And Romeo, being the sweetheart as he is, tried to give Carlie kisses.

So, this may not all be lies. Romeo is probably a freak and is immune to all the expectations after his surgery. The morale of this story is though not to always trust what you read on the internet or what your doctor tells you, (as yes, this applies to Webmd because it’s a combination of both and it will always tell you that you are pregnant) because every case is different and you may be that one special freak that is immune.