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.
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”.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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:
HOW TO GIFT WRAP A COFFEE MUG
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?”
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?)
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!
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?
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*
WHY IS THIS PLACE SO CROWDED?? UGHH.
*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
FREE TO GO! SEE YOU IN NO LESS THAN 8 YEARS, BROOKLYN SUPREME COURT!
I recently dumped my photos from my phone into my Google Drive so what better time than now to share some of my favorites. Don’t worry, I’ve saved to pregnancy announcements and janky wedding pictures for another post (not really, we’ve all seen enough).
If there’s one thing I love in this world it’s a good romantic comedy. I like to pretend that I’m the plucky, scattered yet endearing heroine who can totally handle her own stuff, but will also willingly let Prince Charming swoop in and save the day. I also like imagine what it would be like if I were actually able to live in apartments like Meg Ryan’s in You’ve Got Mail or Mr. Bedford’s in Miracle on 34th Street (1994 version, of course. not 100% rom-com but dat apartment doh).
Lately, the subject of hopeless romance/romantics has come up in my daily life and I thought “Finally! Something I have an opinion on!” I don’t date much (so I use opinion v. loosely) – not by my choice, tbh, but I do daydream a ton and consider myself pretty well versed on chick lit and rom-coms, both by Hollywood and Hallmark so be confident that you’re in good hands here.
Men always say how hard women are. “You’re impossible to understand!” they cry. Well, boys, you’re in luck! Auntie Martina is here to clear up a few things. Get a notepad and write this down. Or bookmark this page. Screenshot it, maybe. Whatever you kids are doing these days. Just get ready.
Women talk – a lot. And, yea, some of it is nonsense about how Diane in payroll gave her the stink eye all day today (bitch.) or how she found out how many calories are actually in her daily Double Trouble Mocha Choca Latta frappuccino and how she literally died when she found out but she can’t just can’t quit them. She’ll fill you in on how her 1st-grade bestie’s cousin’s neighbor got engaged this weekend in a hot air balloon (which she’ll pretend to be unimpressed by, but really, she would kill for the same thing) She’ll also tell you how she loves daisies and the color green and her favorite comfort food. One thing’s for sure, she’ll definitely let you know how she’s feeling so, when you see she’s a little off, buy her a bouquet of daisies, wrap them in a green ribbon, order the chicken parm and pop in her favorite movie – because she’s definitely mentioned it – and look at you! Day = made.
Don’t be a dick
How come the biggest gripe of single people (myself included) is “There’s just no one out there!”? HOW IS THERE NO ONE OUT THERE? There are dating sites/apps, singles cruises, matchmakers, singles mixers, etc. that prove otherwise. I just had this conversation with a few different people and my question is this – ALL (like, every single one) of the single people in the world (or, in your neighborhood, city, state, country, whatever) are ALL garbage people? Like, not just the “oh, they weren’t my type” or “it just didn’t work out” ones. I mean the ghosting, the talking to no less than 5065 people at the same time, or the really heinous – ones who already have a girl(boy)friend/wife or husband/ family. I think the problem is that there’s too much of an interest in being not interested or not interested enough. It’s way too easy to swipe right and then never message the person or to message them a few times and then drop them or even to go so far as to go on a date and then *poof* #byefelicia and never to be seen or heard from again. Not cool, bros. So, basically, don’t do this. If you’re interested, see it through. It’s ok if there’s no spark in the long run, but take the time to find that out. If you’re not interested, don’t pretend like you are.
Now we know that listening and being a decent person is key. Now it’s time to act. Romance comes in all sizes. You can have huge, sweeping acts of it that takes everyone’s breath away. And by everyone, I mean all of Facebook and Instagram because you know grand gestures will be ‘booked and ‘grammed from here until kingdom come. Not one for sweeping gestures? Not a good listener? I got you. Here’s a list – a cheat sheet if you will – of things that you can do to make her think she’s the Meg Ryan to your Tom Hanks. The Kate Hudson to your Matthew McConnaghey.
text her every morning – a quick one is fine. just let her know you’re thinking of her. want to blow her socks off? check in during the day too.
hate to dance? do it anyway. even if you look like a fool. even if it’s only one slow dance at some random wedding. it will be the best 2.5-3.5 minutes of her night.
tell her she’s pretty – even when she kind of isn’t. like when she slept late and couldn’t wash her hair that morning and it’s looking ratty. bonus points: when she’s sick and is surrounded by tissues. bonus bonus points: when sick means to her stomach, tell her as you hold her hair back.
flirt with her – again, a quick text goes a long way. witty banter. be THAT couple.
don’t roll your eyes when One Direction comes on. TURN THAT SHIT UP AND SING ALONG. (feel free to replace 1D with whatever artist she likes and you don’t)
hold her hand. SIMPLE.
buy her flowers. i know i mentioned that before, but you don’t have to wait until she has a bad day. any day is a good day for flowers. bonus points: pick a random day and send them to her at work *swoon*.
i know we’re talking about dating here so this may be kind of weird, but eventually, this may come up – tell her how amazing she is after she gives birth. she just birthed a tiny human. YOUR tiny human. you better believe she is the most amazing, beautiful, fierce, bad ass person in the world at that very moment. TELL HER. she may just be drugged and/or tired enough to not fight you on it and just believe you.
know how she likes her coffee – v. important.
keep up with the kardashians – ok, that may be taking it too far, but if she’s into reality TV, don’t give her shit about it and know the players at least.
open her car door. then wait to see if she passes “The Mario Test” (what movie?)
make her laugh. for the love of God – this is important. the great American philosopher, Marilyn Monroe, supposedly once said “If you can make a woman laugh, you can make her do anything.” which, now that i’ve read it again, I’m not sure I’m in love with the quote, but I agree with the idea of keeping each other laughing and having a sense of humor.
kiss her on the forehead. *shrugs* it’s cute
don’t be a dick
Could I go on for days? Yep, sure. Are there more important things I should mention like, support her in achieving her goals, or having nothing but resepect for her. Am I setting feminism back a bit with this post? Maybe, but sometimes it’s nice to be the plucky, scattered heroine and feel like romance isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. It’s nice to feel woo-ed. I know that feeling comes differently for everyone and what works on me might not work on you. Like I said in the beginning, what I like about romantic comedies is that the woman can usually handle her own stuff. It’s just nice to be given an extra thought to/about. Let’s not forget also – love is a two-way street so just flip it and reverse it, ladies!
What did I miss? What would make you swoon? Have I totally missed the mark?
I told you I wouldn’t be back right away. I didn’t think it would take this long for me to actually sit and write something to post, yet here we are a mere month later.
I’m going to be real with you. I’ve thought about writing and posting pretty much every single day. And every day something would “come up”. I’m stuck at work. I have nothing to say. I’m tired. and on, and on, and on…
I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I’m hoping that by getting this posted, I can break away from whatever is bothering me. I’m in one of those stages where I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong. There has to be something wrong since I have had absolutely no desire, past doing it in my head, to do what I truly enjoy. blogging and taking pictures, in case you weren’t sure. I feel lazy, unsure, not funny, just all around ill-equipped to be here, running this blog. It’s a funky funk. I think. I hope. I feel fragile but for absolutely no reason. Maybe it’s not fragility, maybe it’s more vulnerability. Either way, it’s not something I’m used to and I don’t like it. Is this normal? Do you feel like this too sometimes?
I’ve been waiting/looking for inspiration. I keep up with my favorite bloggers, hoping that something will turn the light on in my brain. Nothing. Don’t get me wrong. I think you guys are great. AMAZING. But your stories are your stories. I can’t pull inspiration from things that I can’t relate to/never experienced.
I’m hesitant to write this because I feel like every few months (weeks, if i’m being honest) I’m here complaining about my life. My job(s), my (lack of) romance, my weight/clothes shopping, what have you. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of the constant whining.
wahhhhhh i don’t wanna work weekends. wahhhhhh #foreveralone. wahhhhhh shopping sucks.
That’s how it sounds in my head, at least.
The fact of the matter is, if everybody’s workin’ for the weekend, then you got it covered so I’ll just stay home. I just want a regular job. 9am-5pm (or 7-3 or 8-4, whatever), with my own desk, computer with internet access (you would think this is standard; it’s 2017. you would think.) Maybe one that showcases my skills. Definitely one that affords me to do basic things (like take a day off and not worry about finding coverage or not getting paid for the day).
I paid for a month of OKCupid. It’s not going well. To be fair, I guess you get what you put in and I’m not making much of an effort, but I digress. I’m getting a handful more messages/likes than usual but nothing that would have me think “why didn’t I do this sooner?” Have I put myself out there in other ways? No, but can we just not go there?
I don’t know what to say about shopping. When it’s good, it’s OK and when it’s bad, it sucks big elephant dick. (remember when i said i thought cursing was becoming too free and easy? let’s all have a laugh at my hypocrisy)
I’m also really tired (like, really tired. exhausted even) of the absolute fuckery that’s going on in the White House/government lately. On the news, they were reporting about the nerve gas attack in Syria. The Commander in Tweet released a statement blaming President Obama and his administration for it (wut?) and then basically told the Syrian dictator to carry on. NBD. NERVE GAS. As in a chemical that is banned by the civilized world. GTFO.
It also doesn’t help that my father is obsessed with, as he calls him, the Trumpster, so it’s all news all the time in my house. And by obsessed, I mean in a good way, like, how do we get rid of him? Here, sign this petition.
As if it needs to be said at this point, but everything has been annoying me lately. Like, a lot more than usual. Things that shouldn’t get under my skin are getting under there and setting up camp. Everything has been making me suck my teeth and roll my eyes. I’m (almost) 30, not 13. WHAT IS GOING ON? But then again, some eye rolls are warranted. Like when my boss yesterday went to pick up her phone to make a phone call, thought better of it, and then asked me to make the call instead. Or, like when she called me from her desk with a functioning computer on it, to ask if I could email a student about an event that we were having last night. seriously?
Life isn’t all bad though. Harry Styles is releasing his first solo single on Friday and will be on SNL the following week. I can’t wait to hear that raspy voice and get lost in those sparkling emerald eyes of his.
I jumped on the bandwagon and updated the name on my blog’s Facebook page. If you’re thinking of changing yours, DO IT. I haven’t seen a huge jump in views, but there’s definitely more traffic to the page, which hopefully, will lead to traffic to the blog.
Am I being dramatic? Yea, probably.
Eventually, inspiration will hit and I’ll be back, better than ever. Like I never left.
Thanks for reading! Thanks for putting up with me. I’m a real handful. A gem.
On a quick sidenote – what’s everyone watching? I am really loving Feud: Bette and Joan. They were some #badbitches. You can’t go wrong with Ryan Murphy.
What seems like forever ago (it’s been two weeks), I saw this sort of desert island survival needs post from Steph and I thought that it was different and I should try to narrow my picks down to one. Maybe two. You know what, let’s just see where this goes. I think it goes without saying the main thing I’d need is a way off the island. I hate most social interaction just as much as the next guy, but eventually, I’d need to shower and not have to worry about a monsoon wiping my little hut right off the island. i’m really not made for this, huh?
sidenote: since they’re asking what movie/tv i’d choose, i’m going to assume there’s a small hut with electricity (and plumbing, air conditioning and refrigeration.)
Food – don’t do this to me straight out of the gate. how can I choose between bagels, greasy Chinese and my mom’s eggplant parmigiana? Also, grilled chicken caesar pizza, regular pizza, fries, restaurant specific delicacies? Now I’m stressed. And hungry.
Snack – cheese and crackers? grapes? watermelon? cereal? i’ve thought about this answer for about 10 minutes. whyyyy?
Drink – Diet Coke with ice and lemon, hands down. but also, lemonade, iced tea, and iced coffee.
Clothes – it’s a desert island, does it really matter? i’ll go with shorts, tee shirts, and unlimited underwear because i have a thing about underwear.
Accessory – sunglasses
Beauty product – moisturizer, assuming there’s some sort of plant i could easily make into soap.
Luxury item – a bed with a mosquito net.
Books – i’ll just bring my kindle and internet/amazon access.
Music – spotify, please. although, i could never go wrong with boy bands, 90’s/early 2000’s music.