A Year’s Worth of Dating – in Two Weeks

[Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to my little sis, Erin. This is my first experience with “guest blogging,” but I decided to give it a try because Erin has a story that’s just WAY too good not to share with the world. If you’d like to learn how you, too, can cram a year’s worth of dating into a mere 14 days, read on…]

“I sit there and I look back and I’m like: I’m a smart person. What the hell was I thinking?” (Britney Spears)

Picture this: It’s midnight on a Thursday night and I’m at a dive bar on Capitol Hill drinking PBR with about 10 of my coworkers. I work two jobs, so I’m coming off a 14 hour day and am dressed in my usual work uniform of jeans, t-shirt, messy ponytail and chucks that are coming apart at the seams. Having recently ended a 3+ year relationship, my sole intent is to drink a couple of beers and tell some dirty jokes with my loud, rowdy coworkers. And maybe get a bagel dog from the hot dog vendor outside afterward if I’m feeling particularly feisty.

Imagine my surprise when a man comes approaches me and asks me if my boyfriend is there. A confused head shake begs the question “Do you have a boyfriend?” When I shake my head ‘no’ again, he says, “Well, I just want to tell you that I think you’re absolutely beautiful.” He then walks away. About ten minutes later, as he’s leaving, he hands me a slip of paper with his name, phone number and “call me!” written on it. Hands it to me without a word and walks out. Pretty effing smooth, right? Even a girl like me, who normally loathes getting hit on at bars and makes a concerted effort to ooze hostility, couldn’t help but be impressed.

Let the record show that I made an effort to vet this guy out before I agreed to a first date. We talked on the phone several times, and the only red flag I got was that he called me twice within the span of two hours, which is overkill. Red flag #1. I decided to let it slide because hey, he’s probably just excited, right?! I work in mental health and normally consider myself a fairly good judge of character, so I was willing to let his overeager attitude slide. Especially after I found out that he was a firefighter. Hot hot HOT.

The first date was fantastic. I made sure to get there early so I could be seated when he got there, since I didn’t remember what he looked like. When he walked in the door, my stomach leapt into my throat. Thankyouthankyou sweet baby 8 pound Jesus! He’s a little short, 5’9” to my 5’7”, but he’s damn cute. We end up barely touching our food because we’re talking nonstop, and the waitress is sweeping the floor by the time we leave. The Firefighter strikes me as very open, honest, direct, and with a strong sense of who he is and what he wants out of life. We swap stories, talk about hopes and dreams, and he asks me nonstop questions about myself. I feel simultaneously comfortable and elated.

As we’re walking out of the restaurant, he holds the door open for me and then holds my hand, and then asks if he can kiss me. When I blush (and I am NOT a blusher) and say yes, we have an amazing first kiss right there on the sidewalk.

I’m smitten.

I’m in deep smit.

We go on to see each other every night for the next week. We both have crazy workaholic schedules, so it’s usually late at night by the time we get together. We talk, kiss, talk and kiss some more. He brings me mango sorbet, my favorite. I gush about him to friends and family. He smells good. He’s incredibly into me. Oh, swoon.

Red flag #2: This man is not 5’9”, as he claims. I was wearing heels the first night, but once I stood with him barefoot it immediately became apparent that he is more like 5’6 and a half, to my 5’7”. My last boyfriend was 6’6” so this does not make me happy. It’s also weird to lie about your height. But whatever. I can suck it up.

On Day 6 he invites me out to his house. He’s trying to save money to buy a house of his own, so he’s recently moved into a studio on his parents’ property. As a financially struggling twentysomething myself, I can appreciate the logic. I cannot, however, find the bathroom in this so-called studio. Because there isn’t one. It’s a room in his parents’ garage, and when he wants to pee or fry an egg he has to go inside his parents house. Thank GOD I didn’t have to pee, right?! I did, however, almost pee my pants when he said “I think I’m falling in love with you,” on day 6. He went on to say “Do you love me?” a few minutes later.

The next week revealed a laundry list of issues: he has OCD and ADHD, and PTSD after 18 months in Iraq. Went off his OCD medication less than a month ago. Former steroid use and a misdemeanor for burglary. Cheated on his pregnant fiancée of 6 years. Hot damn. I should have run for the hills right then and there. However, when you factor in the sunset picnic on the beach, what’s a girl to do? Everyone has flaws, myself especially, and who am I to judge? I remain cautiously optimistic, especially since he’s so straightforward about his issues.

On a Friday night, two weeks after meeting The Firefighter, I invite him to join me and about 20 of my coworkers at a bar for a going-away party for one of our friends. We’re normally a pretty raucous bunch, and I’ll be honest, we were trashed by the time he got there. Silly, loud, drunk. There are some hilarious pictures of The Firefighter trying to get career advice from my coworker as he clearly struggles to maintain focus. I’m 25, I have a stressful job, and sometimes I get drunk at the bar with my friends. I make no apologies for this fact.

That weekend is Easter weekend, so I go home to our parents’ house in Olympia. I leave a message for The Firefighter that morning, which goes to the effect of, “Man, I was drunk last night, ha ha! You should call me. Happy Easter.” Later that night I get a voicemail, in which he says “I just can’t do this anymore” a total of 3 times, then says “Peace” and then hangs up.

WTF?!? Good God, was I drunker than I thought? What did I do? Am I crazy? What the eff just happened? Did I just get dumped on a voicemail? Because that’s barely, just barely, a step up from getting dumped on a post-it note, Carrie Bradshaw style.

The Firefighter never did return my call, or explain just exactly what it was that he “just couldn’t do anymore.” After 3 days, the statute of limitations on explanations for asshole behavior had expired and I decided to move on. On a whim, however, I decide to go on craigslist. Did I mention that he had posted a craigslist ad prior to meeting me? Red flag #87.

Imagine my surprise when I find that he has RE-POSTED his craigslist ad a mere TWO DAYS after breaking up with me on a voicemail! From “I love you” to “I’m looking for a lady who likes to take care of her man” in 48 hours.

And that, my friends, is how you cram a year’s worth of dating into a mere two weeks.

This Little Piggy…

I’m by no means back to the land of the living, but I thought I should probably give a brief update to let the world know that I’m still alive.

I do not have the Swine Flu. I do, however, have a pretty serious case of the good ol’ fashioned regular flu, and I haven’t really been vertical since last Sunday.

Of course, when I called my doctor on Tuesday, I stupidly told them that my friends and I have been passing around what we’ve named the “Death Sickness” ever since my friend came back from a cruise to Mexico with what seemed to be an extreme case of the flu that lasted for more than two months. My boyfriend has had it for four and a half weeks, and now I’ve inevitably come down with it as well.

Note to self: Don’t tell your doctor that you got sick from your friend who went to Mexico when the media is freaking out about a flu pandemic that apparently started in… Mexico. They’ll refuse to see you and send you straight to the Emergency Room. Which is where I spent Tuesday morning, getting tested for the Swine Flu. My boyfriend oinked at me the whole car ride there. Reeeeaaaal funny.

Oh and the Swine Flu test? They stick a giant Q-tip all the way up your nose until it feels like it hits your brain, then swish it around a bit for good measure. Not fun. But like I said, the test came back negative and I don’t have the Swine Flu. But I’m still completely miserable. I hope I’ll be back to the real world soon… wish me luck!

Just Beat It

My parents celebrated 30 years of marriage this week, which is truly commendable in my opinion. Recently, my sister and I were reminiscing about the good ol’ days growing up… the time I broke her finger, the time she pulled out a huge clump of my hair, the time we aimed bug spray directly at our little brother’s face and subsequently had to call poison control. Yeah…
My sister also remembered a time she was a little less-than-thrilled about the fact that my dad was trying to lecture her, so in response she proceeded to laugh directly in his face. My opinion: “Wow, if you were my child I would have backhanded you so fast it would have made your head spin.”
Thus stemmed another debate, this time regarding the corporeal punishment of children.

My sister believes that under no circumstances should you physically discipline a child. In fact, she says it is completely illegal. She thinks physical discipline is humiliating and confusing, and does not result in any positive outcome, such as the child learning his or her lesson and not repeating the bad behavior. Me? I say spank away!

It’s no secret that I’m not a big fan of kids. I’ve said on many occasions (joking… mostly) that many of the world’s problems could be solved by putting shock collars on all of the little buggers. Throwing a fit in public because you wanted the green lollypop, not blue? TZZZZZZ!!! Having a tantrum because standing still while mommy pays for groceries is too boring? TZZZZZZ!!! Kicking and screaming because you want soda and not milk? TZZZZZZ!!! But I digress…

In all seriousness though, I’ve never even given it a second thought that I would most likely spank and/or slap my (future) children when it became necessary as a disciplinary tool. Both happened in our family when we were kids (albeit, not often), and we all turned out just fine.

Ironically, last night in my Criminal Law class we touched on this exact subject, and I learned (neener, neener, neener!) that my sister is incorrect: you ARE legally allowed to hit your children (at least in Washington state). According to RCW 9A.16.100 which addresses the use of force on children, physical discipline of a child is not unlawful when it is inflicted by a parent, teacher, or guardian for purposes of restraining or correcting the child. The force just has to be "reasonable and moderate," which means it can’t cause bodily harm greater than transient pain or minor temporary marks. Sounds about right to me.

OF COURSE I would never justify beating a child, but I am curious… what is the general consensus regarding physical discipline of children, i.e. spanking, etc.?

To spank or not to spank, that is the question…

Twitterpated

According to Friend Owl, nearly everybody gets Twitterpated in the springtime. Well, to quote Thumper… “It’s not gonna happen to me!”

Yes friends, at the risk of losing followers, I am here to stand up and say, “Hi, my name is Sarah and I refuse to Twitter.”

I’m sorry if this offends anyone, but I find the whole Twitter phenomenon just a little bit ridiculous. I know I will probably be shunned from the blogging community for saying this, because so many claim it to be such a great networking tool. But still, I feel the need to justify my reasoning.

A few months ago I decided to stop updating my Facebook status, because I felt like it was pretty self-absorbed to believe all my friends were interested in knowing about each and every time I enjoyed the sunshine, had a cup of coffee, or got spit on by a homeless person on the bus. I just felt creepy about informing the entire world what I was doing every 10 minutes of the day. It seemed a bit excessive and besides, who has time for that? I would rather spend my very limited and valuable free time communicating in person with my actual flesh-and-blood friends.

Personally, I blog because I love to write. And I am happy to share that writing with others and receive feedback. But I don’t understand the fascination with Twitter… It’s just like blogging more frequently, except obviously 140 characters doesn’t give someone enough room to write anything of substance. So in my opinion, Twitter is just another outlet for meaningless ramblings and tacky gossip.

I have a good friend who says the appeal of Twitter is that it’s loaded with people who don’t communicate otherwise. For example, celebrities and musicians who would never blog, but have time to update something simple like Twitter (even though I think most of those accounts are fake and/or managed by personal assistants). My friend is also attracted to Twitter because he feels it frees people to communicate and “tweet” at each other constantly, whereas by comparison people hardly ever comment on one another’s blogs. You can read more of his thoughts on Twitter here.

He also notes that there’s a certain amount of guilt attached with blogging. How many times have you read, “Sorry I haven’t written in so long, but…” on a blog? There’s some kind of unspoken rule that blogs have to be deeply introspective or profound. The need to please your audience creates tremendous pressure in the blogging world, but with Twitter’s character limit, it’s perfectly acceptable to sum up your life in just a quick phrase.

But Twitter seems to have become a real addition. I’ve had drinks with friends before who aren’t even paying attention because they are too busy on their iPhones, updating their status on Twitter. Seriously? It’s more important to tweet to the rest of the world that you’re “having a great time at happy hour” than to actually enjoy being at happy hour?

It’s just not for me. As much as I adore all of my friends, I don’t need to follow their every move… it just seems weirdly voyeuristic to me. I’m constantly scrambling because there are not enough hours in the day, and I already waste enough time on the internet. The last thing I need is another web addiction.

"Tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet! Tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet!" says Friend Owl. “Hm! Pain in the pinfeathers, I call it!”

All this being said, I am not unaware of all the publicity Twitter is getting. So please, I’d welcome some feedback from all you Tweeters out there!

It puts the lotion in the basket or it gets the hose again.

Because I live in a tiny corner of the world that doesn’t see the sun for 10 months out of the year, fake ’n’ bake tanning has become quite popular in Seattle. It’s definitely one of my guilty indulgences. A couple years ago Desert Sun tanning salons started popping up in every neighborhood throughout the city, and of course I was suckered into one of their introductory tanning packages. I’ve been hooked ever since. I just can’t resist those stress-free minutes of basking in glorious rays.

So last night after work I stopped in at Desert Sun for my weekly fix. I find that the main problem with tanning salons is that they’re constantly trying to up-sell you. I can never just come in and use one of the tans I’ve already paid for. I have to sit and let them explain how much better the “super” beds are than the “medium” beds, and for just $20 I could upgrade right now. (That’s for one session).

But I’ve found that the main thing the over-eager orange counter girls try to sell is tanning lotion. Sure, I’m as much of a lotion fan as the next person… I have it in my bathroom, on my desk at work, in my purse, in my car, etc. But the lotion at the tanning salon, supposedly full of miracle tan enhancing chemicals that make your tan last 100 times longer, runs about $60 a bottle, on average. Wow, for the price of this stuff it better have flecks of gold floating in it. I’m sorry, but there is absolutely no way that I can justify spending that much money on LOTION.

Regardless, when I went in last night I got the usual hard sell, and this time they even tried to entice me with a free sample: A tiny plastic condiment container with a little blop of brownish goo at the bottom (normal cost: $3). However, since they made it complimentary, I was willing to try it out. I headed in and slathered myself with the sweet smelling lotion and proceeded with my tanning session. 12 minutes later I got out, reeking of the usual burnt flesh smell – now with a touch of coconut.

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror this morning when I got out of the shower, I definitely looked a little more bronzed, but not more than usual. However, my fingernails are now stained a light shade of orange from the miracle lotion. Honestly, I think the whole thing is a scam. Sure, maybe the lotion helps enhance your tan… because it stains your skin orange!

So at this point, I’m thinking there’s a lot of other stuff I would rather spend $60 on than a bottle of “miracle” lotion. I think I’d rather just stick with my drugstore brand, $6 per bottle, thankyouverymuch. Just as moisturizing for one-tenth the cost, and it doesn’t stain my nails.

But I’m curious. So many people are obsessed with tanning lotion and are willing to pay outrageous prices for it. What do you think?

My Oh My

Spring has officially sprung, because this weekend I attended my first Mariners game of the season! And since the M’s are actually doing decent so far, there’s actually more of a reason to go to the game other than to drink beer and socialize. (What? That’s not why most people attend the games?)

Unfortunately, we lost 0-2 to Detroit on Saturday night, and the guys I was with almost got into a fight with some Michigan boys talking crap in the beer garden. Who knew baseball could be so violent?

Since all the people we were meeting at the game had tickets for different parts of the stadium, we spent approximately 10 minutes in our seats before heading down to the Beer Garden. We actually had a pretty decent view…


I spent the rest of the evening socializing and occasionally looking out at the field (mainly when Ken Griffey Jr. was up to bat).

Oh, I just love Springtime activities!

I had my cake and ate it, too.

I do a moderate amount of event planning for my job, and I just have to take a moment to mention the most recent one. My company hosted a building opening last week and we decided to do something special with the refreshments. My boss had heard of a really unique cake company that had been featured on the Food Network. Apparently, the company can make phenomenal cakes in basically any shape you want.

So I did some research and discovered Mike’s Amazing Cakes. All I can say is wow. I was definitely amazed. Check out the web site and I’m sure you will be just as impressed as I was. I called immediately to order a cake shaped exactly like the building we were opening. When it arrived at the event, I literally couldn’t believe my eyes. It was even better than I thought it would be. Honestly, can you believe this is actually a cake?
They used architectural line drawings and aerial photographs to get every detail accurate and to scale. And the entire thing was edible. The center was mouth-watering layered vanilla cake with delicious orange filling and a white chocolate shell. We had to put little signs up around the table identifying the display as food, because people kept trying to poke at it, thinking it was simply a building model.

It was almost a shame to cut into it. Until I got a taste… Yum!

Bad Dog

I’ve never claimed to be a dog lover – I’m really much more of a cat person. But a couple years ago my parents got an adorable Miniature Pinscher named Roxy. Maybe it’s because she is a small dog, or maybe it’s the simple fact that she seems to like me, but I actually found myself adoring little Roxy. I look forward to playing and cuddling with her when I visit my parents.

However, after this weekend, I’ve decided that the dog is evil. My parents haven’t necessarily given Roxy much training, and she’s super spoiled. She goes in and out of the house through a doggie door to the back yard as she pleases, and spends a lot of her time sleeping by the fireplace or in people’s laps.

She is also an escape artist. Roxy has absolutely no idea how good she has it at my parent’s house, and bolts out the front door every chance she gets. My parents have had to resort to putting electrified mats in front of the door that shock Roxy when she steps on them. But the mats sometimes get moved (when company comes over, etc.) and then they have to be super careful to hold the dog by the collar whenever the door is open.

Many, many times when I have visited my parents, Roxy has somehow escaped. Normally, when a dog gets loose it might run for a minute, but then you call it and it comes back. Right? I thought that was the whole point of dogs. They’re supposed to be smarter than cats because they are loyal and they obey their owners, correct? Not Roxy. When she escapes, she bolts like lighting down the street as fast and as far as she can. When you call her name, she runs faster… in the other direction. I’ve never seen anything like it. It takes hours of walking/driving around the neighborhood calling her name and waving treats to catch her.

This weekend, I went down to my parent’s house for Easter. Sunday morning, we all got ready to go over to my grandma’s house. Since we were taking separate cars, Stewart and I were the last to leave. I thought Roxy was in the backyard, and stupidly opened the front door to leave. The electrified mats were not in place. Suddenly, a streak of brown and black shot by my leg and Roxy was gone. You’ve got to be kidding me!

It was absolutely POURING down rain. I had just spent an hour getting ready and was wearing suede boots. My parents were long gone. And we had to catch the dog before leaving because my mom thinks Roxy is a human child and would freak out if we just left her, loose. Ironically, we caught her within 10 minutes right outside the cul-de-sac. Roxy jumped in the car door right into my lap for a waiting slice of bacon. She was soaking wet. And covered in poop, which she had apparently rolled in. I was practically in tears while Stewart sat and laughed at me. Not funny, dude.

Back at the house, I locked the evil dog in the backyard in the cold, pouring rain. I figured she deserved it. Then I marched upstairs to dry myself off and clean up. A little while later, as I picked up my bag to finally head out, I saw something out of the corner of my eye… something brown and black, which streaked across the front yard. No. NO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! That’s right, doggie lovers. Roxy had escaped the backyard through the side gate. I wanted to cry.

We called Roxy’s name again and again, but she looked back at us, turned, and ran as fast as she could around the corner and out of sight. I was so furious I think smoke came out my ears. Stewart and I drove aimlessly through the neighborhood for a while, but there was no sign of her. Eventually, we just gave up and went back to the house to wait. As we neared the driveway, Stew slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting… Roxy. She jumped into the car again, happy as a clam to see us. I wrapped her in a towel and tried not to gag at the overwhelming smell of feces. Happy Easter, Sarah.

I do not like dogs. Officially.

Pimp Your Peep

This year for Easter we held our first annual "Pimp Your Peep" contest at my grandma's house. Since it was pouring down rain, this was a nice alternative to an outdoor egg hunt. Here's a selection of the pimped out peeps...


Peep-Cock was the first place winner. (Notice the peep with lovely tail feathers... This was a play on the word "Peacock" and has nothing to do with anatomy, you pervs!) I also thought Little Bow Peep was pretty clever. Which one would you have voted for?

All Stars

Since I used to rock Converse Chuck Taylor All Stars every day in the seventh grade, I was pretty excited when they started coming back in style. So a few weeks ago I picked myself up a pair. I’ve worn them a couple times (mostly on the weekends to run a quick errand or something), but never more than an hour or two at a time.

However, this Saturday I woke up, threw them on and proceeded to spend the entire day in them, including walking around Queen Anne and the Seattle Center. They were super comfy and I was totally satisfied with my purchase… I didn’t take them off until we got home at almost midnight.

The next day I got out of bed and literally fell over. My calves were so tight and sore I could barely walk!! I couldn’t figure out what was wrong at first. Then I realized… It was the first time in probably four years that I had worn flat shoes for an entire day. I always, always wear heels, even on the weekends. The most time I spend in tennis shoes is probably an hour, and that’s when I’m at the gym. And apparently, as a result, my alignment and muscles have been seriously altered.

This has got to be a problem, right? But I’m 5’3” people! I need those extra three to four inches, and I just feel so much better in heels. My posture straighter, which makes me feel thinner, and I just don’t think flats are as professional-looking for work.

But it can’t be normal to have problems walking just because you wore tennis shoes for a day… Hmmm.

Weekend Update

I saw my first 3-D movie. On Saturday morning we met up with Tara & Winst to go see Under the Sea 3D in the IMAX Theater at the Pacific Science Center. Wow. I’ve never seen a 3D movie before, and it by far exceeded my expectations! I highly recommend seeing one, if you haven’t already. Under the Sea 3D features some of the most exotic and isolated undersea locations on Earth, including Southern Australia, New Guinea and others in the Indo-Pacific region, with fantastic narration by Jim Carey. And the three dimensional aspect is crazy; it’s like you can actually reach out and touch things! The only downfall was some annoying global warming propaganda, and the fact that the theater was filled with screaming children. They cried every time a fish got eaten… it’s the circle of life, kiddies!

We bought a BBQ for our patio. When Stew and I were condo shopping, a patio definitely wasn’t one of our “must-haves,” but we were thrilled when we ended up with a unit with a large patio off the living room. So, after doing some research, this weekend we set out in search of the perfect BBQ. We found it at Lowe’s and pick it up on Tuesday, and I’m oh-so excited to start cooking all of our dinners outside. Hello, spring!

I learned how to drive a stick shift. Yes, I am officially in my late ’20s and still don’t know how to drive a stick shift. I just don’t see the point in making something harder than it has to be… why do something manually when it can be automatic? However, my boyfriend has a stick shift and it’s been problematic several times (he drinks too much = we are stuck). So this weekend he took me to the Ballard High School parking lot and forced me to figure it out. And I think I did okay, if I do say so myself. I only got to third gear and panicked when I accidentally turned onto a main road, but I didn’t stall the car in traffic and I could definitely drive his car now... if my life depended on it.

I joined the new LA Fitness Signature Club. I am such a sucker!! I’m already a member of the gym in the building where I work, because while I am in school a quick lunch time workout is about all I have time for. However, I’ve been planning on joining the new, huge, gorgeous LA Fitness Signature Club in Ballard ever since it first started construction. The club is now complete, and they had their grand opening this weekend, so I decided to check it out with the intention of joining in June after I graduate. However, once I arrived I found out that regular Signature Club memberships are about $85 a month, which I could never afford (of course they lack prices on their web site). However, joining at the grand opening got me a membership for $54 a month - a deak I just couldn't pass up. The club is amazing… it’s the biggest, most beautiful gym I’ve ever seen, with two floors, personal TVs on ever piece of equipment, a 25 meter pool and spa overlooking the Ship Canal, a full basketball court, and huge aerobics and spin rooms (classes are included with the membership), just to name a few features. My Ballard has posted some photos of the inside. PS - I am allowed to join two more people onto my membership at the $54 rate… let me know if you’d like to negotiate!

We had dinner and game night at Jesse and Katie’s house. If you haven’t already realized it, I am a big fat nerd, so I was super excited to head over to our friends Jesse and Katie’s house on Saturday night for a delicious fajita dinner complete with homemade guacamole, my favorite. And of course the highlight was GAME NIGHT! I can't even tell you how much I love games... my family members usually want to kill me after a holiday weekend at home where I force them to play intense rounds board games every evening. So I was thrilled on Saturday that after watching the basketball game we got to play Cranium. However, I realized I really suck at charades, causing me and Stew to lose. Is it sad that I now think dinner, game night and a few Caronas is just as entertaining as a night out on the town? I’ll say it again… I’m old!

I cooked a delicious (healthy!) dinner from scratch. On Sunday night my sister came over for dinner and I did something rare and actually cooked a meal comprised of more than chicken and vegetables… homemade chili! My friend Tara gave me a super yummy chili recipe which can be made super healthy by substituting the ground beef with lean ground turkey. So Sunday night I went to bed full, slightly wine buzzed, and happy… even though I put off my homework and now have to spend Monday night getting caught up.

How was everyone else’s weekend?

I Cheated.

I forgot that I have something to confess to y'all… I fell off the wagon. At the first real temptation, I cracked. I just couldn’t help myself. It had been such a long time. I just wanted a little taste… Please, let me explain!

For Stew’s grad party I made tons of delicious food. And even though I’m no longer eating meat, I’m a firm believer in never forcing your values onto someone else, so I was sure to have a variety of carnivorous appetizers. And the star of the show was a huge crock pot full of slow cooked parmesan marinara meatballs.

I didn’t even taste test them before guests started to arrive, but the smell alone was to die for. And about seven hours and probably as many beers later, any reasonable values I previously had about not eating meat were starting to go out the window. I felt like everyone around me was chowing down on my meatballs and relaying how delicious they were. So I had a nibble.

Oh god, it was like giving a recovered alcoholic a sip of whisky. I wanted the whole bottle. So I had about four or five meatballs. They were everything I dreamed they would be, and more. Oh don't worry, I was justly punished. The meatballs got their revenge.

Not eating red meat for four months has definitely taken a toll on my body, because a few hours later my stomach violently rejected those cursed meatballs. I won’t get into detail about how sick I was, but I can 100% guarantee that the beef and not the beer was the culprit.

Karma.

The Home Stretch

I just started my final quarter of the Paralegal Certification Program at the UW, and I finally feel like there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Last quarter I lived and breathed Litigation, but this quarter I get to enjoy a plethora of classes/topics, including: Complex Litigation, Criminal Law, Family Law and Business Law. I’m super excited!

I feel like this is really going to help give me a taste of what law school might be like, and help me decide whether or not to apply. So far, I’m pretty certain that’s the route I want to take. Not only am I a nerd who loves school, but I am fascinated by the legal system and how it affects society. (Don’t worry, I won’t write my entire entrance essay here.)

I also went to a seminar this week for what is supposedly the “best” LSAT prep course in Seattle, and I was pretty impressed by what they offer. I’m tentatively planning on beginning that course in July so I can take the LSAT in September. We’ll see how it goes!

Supposedly, this quarter is supposed to be much less time consuming than the last, so I’m hoping I might only have to spend one day per weekend on schoolwork, instead of both. This way I can spend some more time with all my wonderful peeps!

Call me. *wink*

No, this is not an April Fools joke.

I still can't quite believe it myself, but it is 36 degrees outside and absolutely dumping snow in Seattle. On the first day of April. In the middle of the second week of Spring. I feel so bummed out all I want to do is head home and crawl back into bed until July. Or move somewhere much closer to the equator. I just wasn't prepared for this today.