california dreamin’

I have to be up in about 5 hours but I’m not tired, so here I am. By the time you’re reading this I will be about an hour into a cross-country flight to San Francisco!

Guys, I’ve waited what feels like most of my (almost) 30 years to go to California. So, of course, my throat and sinuses decide NOW IS THE TIME to revolt and do things that they don’t usually do. Like, hurt and tickle for the past 10 days or so. The up-side is, I now have a sexy voice to use on all of the Californian boys (except it will probably be like that episode of SATC where Miranda meets up with her friend who moved from NY to LA and now instead of the anxious neurotic he used to be, he’s now laid back and chill. I can’t deal with that. I need someone fueled on coffee and sarcasm, not fresh air and avocados.).

We have some fun stuff planned and quite frankly, I can’t wait to sit and tell you all about it. My camera is all charged and it almost feels like it’s ready to do some work. These photo dumps are going to be large, my friends. GET READY.

I’ll be home in 4 days, so I’ll probably see you here in about 6 months.


here comes 30

In a month from Wednesday, I’ll be 30.


Holy hell. That was a fast 3 decades.

I’ve been feeling my age lately, like my mind and body are already making the transition to this new phase of life. Today I’m going to talk about them so that you can comment down below and tell me you’re experiencing the same things and I could sigh, wipe my brow and think “woooo, it’s not just me”.

Everything hurts

Last month, I got up off my couch, turned to pick up my phone and couldn’t straighten up. I swear I saw stars. It was the worst.  It took about two weeks to feel normal again. I am gearing up for a trip to San Francisco (7 more days!) and I was talking to my mom about needing to buy a bottle of Advil to have, just in case. I also take Naproxen after a long day of walking so that my feet/ankles don’t swell. I mean, I think that sums it up. Prescription drugs and swollen feet after too much walking. In case that wasn’t enough,  my mom asked how many Naproxen I’d need. “10? Figure 3 a day?”


No, Mom. I don’t need THREE a DAY.

I’m emotional

If I said it once, I’ve said it a million times. I’m not a big cryer. And to a degree, I’m still not. But lately, I’ll be scrolling through Facebook and a video will pop up and automatically start so, of course, I have to sit and watch it, and by the end, my eyes are brimming with tears. So, maybe not a full-on sobfest, but still more than a young twenty-something Martina would give. Last week I was on my lunch break and I was watching one where it was the events of the day from the mom’s point of view vs. the daughter’s. The mom was telling the cable repair guy how frazzled she was (sidenote: when people like the cable guy are asking how your day is going, they don’t really care. Don’t give him every detail, lady), how the kids were crazy, she can’t get anything done, etc. Then, the father is tucking the daughter into bed and asks her how her day was she tells him it was the best day ever! and how mommy played with them! and she loves her brother so much! Well, if I wasn’t a weeping ball of mush. Thank God I eat lunch alone. I sat there ugly crying over this 2-minute video. I’m actually getting choked up thinking about it right now.

My internal clock is set

It only took 29 years but now I can wake up without my roommate mom coming into my room to give me a good shake. #proud I truly wish I could pretend that I’m ashamed that it took that long, but honestly, I’m just not.

I have chin hairs

Lots of them. I’m not talking about cute peach fuzz like every other normal person. I mean there are 4 in particular that I can hold and cut with a scissor. Or play with all day, as is the case. To make it worse, they’re not all in the same spot so it feels like they’re taking over.

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I see Harry Styles as a true artist now and not just the British sexpot he used to be

Ok, that’s a lie. Have you seen his Carpool Harryoke with James Corden? Harry doing Lionel Richie better than Lionel Richie? Harry doing Julia Roberts better than Julia Roberts? YES PLEASE.

For real though, his album is a must listen. He’s got talent, that kid.

Did I talk about this already? Eh. Blame it on 30.




screenshots, no chaser #4

Today is one of those days where I’m left to hold down the fort while my co-workers are at an event. Naturally, I am using my time productively to get some work done  pretend that I don’t have to share a computer clean out the screenshot folder on my phone. Some of these are really old, some you’ve probably seen floating around the internet before, all of them make me laugh. Or, inwardly smile, at least.


What have you been inwardly laughing at lately?

slacking on styles

Guys, I’ve been slacking. Harry Styles’ album came out two weeks ago and I have yet to give my two cents. The truth is I was sidelined by a bout of sciatica that still hasn’t totally resolved itself, but at least now I can sit in blogger pose on my bed without wanting to die. Also, yea, sciatica. 29 going on 90.


Harold, Harold, Harold.

I’ve been saying for a while that I’ve been waiting for music to make a turn from the junk that’s on the radio now and go back to when songs made sense. When you can listen to a song and understand every word being sung. More talent, less autotune. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind the autotune, but it’s nice to be able to sing along and not mumble through the parts I invariably didn’t catch. That’s not to say that there aren’t any artists out there that are putting out quality work. We all know how I feel about Bruno and Adele. James Arthur has been winning me over lately. Ok, so maybe music today isn’t the garbage I’ve convinced myself it is.

I digress…

Harry has done it. He’s changing the tides. As I mentioned in my last Harry appreciation post, he went very 70’s. Very Jagger. Except still modern and Harry. Ya dig? Honestly, there was a not so small part of me that hoped for a One Direction sounding ballad (like For Your Eyes Only) hiding out somewhere on the album. I’m glad that there wasn’t since it wouldn’t have fit, but still, I wouldn’t have minded.

Ballad or no, there are a few standouts for me.


Two Ghosts


Only Angel

Sign of the Times

Two Ghosts is 100% about Taylor Swift. They really did a number on each other, I think. Typical case of wrong time, wrong place. Such is life. Kiwi is a crazy, rock star life kind of jam. It also has me wondering, who’s having his baby?

To reiterate- this album has a very 70’s, yet almost 90’s sound to it. Everything yet nothing of what I expected. All that matters is Harry is making music, living life, and doing it all adorably.

Like when he did a surprise show at The Troubadour where Stevie Nicks made an appearance.  They did Landslide and then Harry cried.. ADORABLY.

See? Totes adorbs.

Have you given Harry’s album a listen yet? What do you think?

Let’s discuss!

westward bound

One month from today, I will be hopping on a plane pointed west, headed straight to where Tony Bennett left his heart.

For five days I’ll be playing tourist in the land of sea lions, sourdough, and fog named Karl.

san Francisco

Make sure you check back here and on my Instagram for up to the minute vacation shenanigans!

Also, this is my 300th post! What?!


That’s a lot of Harry Styles talk.

Let’s try for 300 more!

Mick Jagger and Paul McCartney’s lovechild

“You know, Martina hasn’t talked about Harry Styles in a while. I hope she’s OK” – you, probably (definitely not)

I’m fine. Harry’s fine. We’re all fine. The kids are good. School’s almost out and we’re all looking forward to the summer… Did I just lapse into fan fiction? Oh well. Don’t judge.

Anyway, Harry is gearing up for the release of his debut solo album and he’s making the rounds. Yesterday, he was on Good Morning America giving us a sample of what’s coming. Let me tell you – I am here for it.


I’ve missed that manly rasp of his. come to mama.

Harry performed in front of 6 city blocks filled with fans. One fan, however, was noticeably absent and the pain was felt all the way to Brooklyn, where that fan was trying to make herself feel better by searching the #harrystyles tag on Instagram to get up to the minute updates on what was going on in Rockefeller Plaza. It was me, in case you had any doubts.

Since I wasn’t able to make it to the (I guess you can call it) concert, I was left to catch up on YouTube. I work at a shared desk with one computer (please. don’t.) so I had to figure out how to be the one in control of the music. Luckily, my boss appeared with some stuff that needed to go on to a spreadsheet and viola! I’m in.

I haven’t talked about Wild Style(s)  in a while so excuse me while I gush. The pink suit – loved it. v. Mick Jagger. He was always the flashiest dresser of the group so I didn’t expect anything less. The hair – perfect. It finally grew out enough for him to look like a grown up 2013 Harry. Or a little like Louis, but whatever. The songs – so exciting. He sang Sign of the Times (above), Ever Since New York, Carolina and One Direction (album only) hit Stockholm Syndrome. He also adorably laughed/smiled everytime a fan did or said something to make him notice them. Like, scream I love you. i was so jealous.

Stockholm Syndrome isn’t my favorite, but he wrote it so he might as well sing it, right? Anyway, between the pink suit the fandemonium, and the signing songs he wrote because the fans like them and not because they belong to a band, he reminds me of the love child of Mick Jagger and Paul McCartney.

Mark my words, kids – Harry Styles is going to be around for a loooooong time.

Hurry up, Friday. I can’t wait to get my hot little hands on this album.

On a related note – I just got a flashback of buying stacks of CDs at The Wiz. Nobody beats The Wiz!

Oh, lastly – does anyone have Apple TV or whatever they’re calling it these days? Let me know so I can come over and use it because right after the album is released there is going to be a behind the scenes/making of the album movie which shows Harry recording at Abbey Road, Harry writing songs for the album and Harry in his underwear. Help a sister out!


bad ass (wonder) woman

When I went to see (new! live action!) Beauty and the Beast for the first time (didn’t everybody see it more than once? no? oh, OK.), one of the coming attractions was for the upcoming Wonder Woman remake. The previews are my favorite part of the movie going experience because I get to rate them on a thumbs up/thumbs down scale. Thumbs up – I’d see the movie, preferably in the theater, thumbs down – I (most likely) wouldn’t see it, and halfway thumb – which is eh, if I can’t get to the theater, I’ll catch it eventually on Netflix.

Anyway, I’m not a superhero movie fan and definitely not one for comic books. I mean, the only reason I saw the last Batman movie was because Tom Hardy was in it. I checked out after Marion Cotilliard shanked him in the bank. #spoileralert. So, the Wonder Woman trailer came on and immediately I was Team Thumbs Down. By the time it ended, I wanted to see it right then and there.

It was all about #girlpower and bad ass women. I got a little choked up, actually, which kind of says a lot. I always dream about the day I grow up to be a bad ass woman and this movie gives me hope.

With the absolute nonsense going on in Washington, where it’s been decided that having a vagina is basically a pre-existing condition (breathe, Martina), I figured I would share the trailer so that we can all enjoy and celebrate the badassery together.

DIYDS: how to wrap a coffee mug

I’m not the most crafty person in the world nor am I the most patient. Especially when I know how I want something to look and when it doesn’t come out that way, I usually just throw my hands up and find a spot for my unfinished project to collect dust. Go hard or go home, amirite?

There are times, however where things just come together nicely and, frankly go my way. Like that time I shared my instawall project. Which, by the way, I still love and wish I had my own place and could cover every wall with it.

Then there are the times when I have no choice but to power through and just get it done. This is one of those times. Ever since starting this blog, I am more apt to look to other people’s blogs for ideas, how to’s, and personal experiences (esp. when I’m planning a trip) when Googling. I want people to come here for the same reason, not just for my incessant ramblings about plus size shopping, being single and Harry Styles. But by all means, come for those things too!

Anyway, I’m here today to share a how-to. I love a good how-to, or as I like to call them, Do It Ya Damn Self (DIYDS – because if you want it done right…). This is a fun one and suuuuper useful. Ladies and gents, I now present:


You’re probably thinking “Martina, you don’t gift wrap coffee mugs, silly” or even “a gift bag and some tissue paper works.” And in both cases, I’d scoff and say “taking the easy way out, are we?”

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Step One: have a boss who is anal – super anal. But one that also doesn’t want/ know how to do these things for themselves. Or one who is kind of obsessed with finding things for you to do for them instead of letting you help your other co-workers. (too specific? probably.)

Ok, so your super anal boss has called you into their office and tells you that they need you to wrap some end of year gifts for the upcoming staff meeting (graduation is in May, so things are winding down). Three sweatshirts and three blankets. No problem, easy peasy.

Step Two: have an inkling that something else is coming down the pike. You’re almost finished with the blankets and sweatshirts and they’re getting that look in their eye.

You know the one – it looks like they’re going to ask you to do something you’re going want to say no to but they’re the boss and know you won’t say no to them. step 2.5 is not smacking the look right off their face because you have an online shopping “issue” and need the stupid paycheck.

Step Three: let SAB (super anal boss) know that you’re done with the blankets and sweatshirts. Also, be patient when they ask you more than twice which one is for the male recipient and which is for the female recipients. (floral paper for the girls, bright green for the boy. i mean, really?)

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Step Four: Wipe look of disgust off your face when SAB asks if you could wrap these eight(!) mugs. Mention that last year you used tissue paper to wrap them (because it’s quick and easy.) Make sure eyes don’t roll when they say “oh, I don’t have tissue paper, just use the wrapping paper”.

Step Five: Take a selfie showing said disgust.


With any luck, your boss will leave the office for a few, so you can take advantage of their absence and your hot pink lipstick and snap a sanity saving selfie.

Step Six: Be overly cheery when SAB comes back and asks if you’re doing OK. “Yep! Great!” *dies a little inside*

Step Seven: Figure out how to actually wrap a coffee mug. Personally, I put it on its side, rolled the paper around it, taped it down, and then somehow folded the top and bottom and taped that down too.


Step 8: Give SAB options by wrapping one in paper and one with just ribbons. Pray that they’ll say the ribbon one is fine, but know deep down that they won’t.


Step Eight: Resign yourself to the fact that you will be spending all morning wrapping mugs. FOR. THE. LOVE. OF. GOD.

Step Nine: Try (again, for the 603682686th time) to not claw SAB’s eyes out when they look at your finished products and ask they there be more “curly things” on the “flat side” of the mug. WHAT EVEN IS THE FLAT SIDE OF A MUG? THE TOP? WHERE THE PAPER IS CAVING IN? THE SIDE? WHEEEEEREEEEE?

Step Ten: Finish (finally!). Try not to laugh when SAB tells you they look really good.


Even Stevie Wonder knows they look like garbage but, thanks!

And there you have it – how to wrap a coffee mug in just 10 easy steps! I hope this helps!


paying my civic dues

I have a running joke with my mom that I am a poor representation of an adult. I mean, I have a job (or two), I have credit cards that I pay the bills on once a month, I watch the news fairly regularly, I had to Google what ICYMI meant the other day, I can drive and I don’t have a curfew. Other than that, basically, I’m a child. I don’t do my own laundry (thanks, Mom!), I’m not in any kind of relationship, I’m not 100% happy in either of my jobs (which probably falls into the adult category), and (among other things) still (kind of) expect my mom to call and make any and all appointments for me. However, in the eyes of the City of New York, I am a full, bonafide adult which they reward by summoning me to JURY DUTY.


So, without much of a choice, I pulled up my big girl pants, and on my day off I trudged off to pay my civic dues.

Did I mention it started to pour as soon as I got off the bus? And that I had no umbrella? Yea. So, there’s that.

Anyway, as we all know, jury duty is a lot of sitting and waiting. And if you’re me, reading and avoiding eye contact. Basically, I had lots of thoughts and lots of time to think them. And lucky for you, I wrote a number of them down on a receipt that I had floating around in my bag! (I filled in a good number of them because no reciept that would be found in a bag of mine is this long.)

ugh. jury duty on my day off? come on!

should i bring my charger? they keep stressing the NO PHONES policy.

who am i kidding?

*decides not to bring charger*

hey! doesn’t [7th grade crush] work in the courts?

*checks facebook*

he sure does! yes!

*sets alarm 20 minutes earlier to pull myself together, you know, just in case*

are you going to jury duty or da cluuub? cool it with the smokey eye!

eh, whatever. *adds more eyeshadow* *blends furiously*


*bus arrives at stop, gets off bus*

oh, wonderful. IT’S POURING.

of course, i’m summoned to the courthouse that’s furthest away from civilization

i hope [7th-grade crush] goes for the “wet rat” look

my mascara is definitely halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge by now.. run for your life!

*goes through security, finds jury room*

why does this lady keep talking about getting called into a courtroom? is this definite? please God, not another day of this.

how did this chick get wi-fi? did i miss a sign? i wonder if she’ll give me the password

should i ask? umm.. i’ll stick to reading my book, thanks.

maybe i should have brought my charger

i should have packed a backpack with activities. because i’m a mature adult. 

(almost) 30 going on 3. my parents must be so proud

oh, you’re allowed food in here? i wish i had known that before i  turned into a boa constrictor and unhinged my jaw to scoff down that bagel this morning while i waited to get into the courthouse.

if i lie down, will these people judge me? do i really care?

*gets excused for lunch*

shake shack – here i come!

*hoofs it to shake shack*


*anxiety about coming back late sinks in*

maybe next time, shake shack

ok, burger king it is!

oh! there’s a starbucks right across the street! unicorn frappe anybody?

no, martina. no unicorn frappes.

*5 sips in to my not too basic vanilla bean frappe* meh. over it *tosses the rest in the trash on the way back into the courthouse*

ok, [7th grade crush], last shot.

seriously, if i lay down right here, is that so bad?

please let this be over soon.

oh, they’re calling names please not me. PLEASE NOT ME.

woof. dodged that bullet.

it’s 3:30, they’ve called 15 people. this is the home stretch

maybe if i put one leg up on the seat, and then the other, and slide down a bit…

nope, not comfortable.

i don’t know how much more i can take


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