According to my birth control...

...my life has gotten boring. Okay, "boring" isn't the right word. And this post isn't going where you think it's going, so get your mind out of the gutter.

I'm actually talking about when I take my birth control. The time. Specifically, the evolution of that time.

When I was in college, choosing a time to take the pill was tough. A good friend of mine always took hers at noon -- in class or not. Like clockwork, I'd hear the familiar snap of the pill pack switching to the next available pill as she quickly popped it into her hand and slipped it into her mouth. I wasn't nearly as stealth in my maneuvers; I was much more awkward about it. So taking it at noon wasn't a good option for me. Too many people around, too much fumbling.

I thought about taking it in the morning, but with the typically college schedule, there's no WAY that would be consistent enough to be effective.

I also thought about taking it before bed, but that was even more inconsistent. Mondays and Tuesdays, I'd be in bed by midnight, Wednesdays were closer to 3am (thanks to Penny Pitchers), Thursdays were 11pm and the weekend was all over the place.

So I came up with a fool-proof time: 7pm. It was just a little too early for dinner, so I probably wouldn't have to bust it out during appetizers, and it was late enough that classes were definitely over. I was never asleep at 7pm for any reason either. It fit within my fun, busy life. It was perfect.

Fast forward five years. I now take my pill between 10 and 11 at night. Why? Because that's when I go to bed. Pretty consistently. What the heck happened? I'm still young! I live in a city! I'm actually making money! Shouldn't life be even crazier now?

It's not. Even when I do go out and I forget to take it, there's a really good chance I'll be back at my apartment and in bed by 1am anyway. So even though it's a little later than usual, it's still within a two-hour window.

Is that really sad? I feel like it is, in theory. But, deep down, I don't mind. I'm much more of a happy-hour drinker than a late-night drinker nowadays. I've got no problem getting tanked at 6pm while it's still light out -- in fact, I prefer it, because I can eat dinner at 9 and still pass out by 10, giving myself plenty of sleep before work in the morning. Besides, in Chicago, there's nothing better than sharing a half-priced bottle of wine out in the sun on the bar's patio as the day winds down. It's heaven.

So maybe it's not such a bad thing that my birth control schedule has shifted. That's life, right? Maybe it's a sign that I've grown up. Moved on. Become a responsible, working adult. The only other explanation is that I've become more boring, so I'm going to do what any reasonable twenty-something does when faced with undesirable logic: deflect and ignore.

Happy hour, here I come!

Just call me J.Lo

Thanks to Ang, I recently learned about Daily Candy's latest contest asking readers to submit a 50-word tidbit describing their perfect day.

DC promises to make the day happen AND give you a fancy-pants new cell phone on top of it. With such high stakes, I knew my lazy "plunk-me-at-the-pool-with-a-margarita-in-my-hand" idea wasn't going to turn any heads. So I decided to go the celebrity route and demand something I knew I could never do myself. I wrote:

"I'd pull a J.Lo and demand that my favorite Michigan Avenue stores close their doors to everyone except my small entourage so we can shop in tourist-free bliss. We'd then don new outfits and take a limo to dinner at vegetarian Green Zebra, followed by cocktails at swanky Violet Hour."

Snark? Check. Pretension? Check. Inebriation? Check. Not bad for a 50-word limit. Besides, you KNOW how much I hate tourists.

Who wants to be in my entourage?? Ang and J, I already figured both of you. ;-)

Bridezilla Strikes Again

I know that some of you truly enjoy my Bridezilla stories. I know the appeal is in the incredulity that someone can ACTUALLY behave so erratically, irrationally and downright crazy. So I think you'll enjoy this recent Bridezilla story, which is chock full of ridiculous behavior...

Bridezilla and Patient Groom were a little behind on their wedding invitations, so Bridezilla was in a slight tizzy when the envelopes finally arrived from the calligrapher. She carefully (neurotically) lined up all of the invites, response cards, response envelopes, direction cards, etc. on the floor of her apartment while Patient Groom was on his way home from work. She quickly realized something was missing...

Stamps.

Bridezilla panicked. She knew Patient Groom has already bought 100 normal stamps, but she had changed her mind about those. Now, she wanted the pretty wedding stamps. And she wanted them NOW.

Bridezilla picked up the phone to call Patient Groom and demand her perfect wedding stamps.

He did not answer.

At this point, Bridezilla's anxiety shot up and her blood started boiling. How DARE he not answer his phone when there's clearly an emergency going on. In between her frantic dials, she decided to check to see if the post office was even open. It was, but only for another half an hour. Bridezilla realized she was in a time crunch. Her sanity was dwindling by the minute. Sure, she could have gone out herself, but come on. That's not what Bridezillas do.

She heard keys jingle in the door. Bridezilla threw down the phone and jumped up from the floor.

Patient Groom walked in. "Hi hone--"

"Stamps! We need stamps!"

"Huh? I bought stamps."

"NO. I want the wedding stamps and I need double that -- you forgot to get stamps for the response envelopes! Hurry!"

Patient Groom put his bag down. "But... isn't the post office closed?"

"NOOOO. I checked, you have 20 minutes. GO! I need them now!!"

"But..."

"NOW."

Patient Groom grumbled, grabbed his keys and took off.

While he was gone, Bridezilla tried to compose herself. Deep breaths, she told herself. This is gonna be just fine.

Except it wasn't fine. Patient Groom called a few minutes later. "Can you weigh the invites? I need to know the postage to get."

"How?? Put them on the damn bathroom scale?"

"No, use the digital scale in the kitchen," he replied calmly.

Oh. Right. Bridezilla jumped up and frantically searched the kitchen. She could not find the scale. If she had any more sanity to lose, this would have been the point it all disappeared.

"Where the shit is the scale??"

"You know what? Never mind, I know what to do. Don't worry about it."

"UGH, whatever." Bridezilla hung up on him.

She sat on the floor in front of her assembly line of invitation materials and allowed herself to get more worked up. Why would he ask me to weigh the invites when he KNOWS I don't know where the scale is? Is he crazy? she wondered.

So she did what any Bridezilla would do. She called him back to yell at him.

"Why would you ask me to weigh the invites? What were you THINKING?"

"I don't know," Patient Groom said. "It doesn't matter, I just bought the Forever stamps and I got 200. We're fine."

Forever stamps? Sounds kinda pretty. Bridezilla calmed down for a second. Patient Groom continued...

"Yeah, they showed me the wedding ones and one was an ugly red heart and the other was a green heart that looked really Irish, so I didn't get those."

Whatever, Bridezilla thought. At least it's not the ugly Liberty Bell stamps.

After they hung up, Bridezilla decided to check online to see which red and green stamps Patient Groom had been talking about. She saw the wedding stamp immediately -- a green stamp with a white heart that was designed almost like ivy... slightly Irish looking...

She started panicking again. She pulled up a big picture of the stamp on her computer and waited for Patient Groom to come home. Yes, folks, he was walking right into the lion's den.

Patient Groom walked in and before he could say one word, Bridezilla thrust the computer screen at his face.

"Is THIS the stamp you refused to buy?" she demanded.

"That's the wedding stamp?" Patient Groom asked.

Bridezilla let out the most exasperated, frustrated sigh you can possibly imagine. "Well, what stamps did you get?" she asked.

"Same as before," Patient Groom said, "I just got more of them so we could be sure we had enough."

What?

Same?

The ugly Liberty Bell stamps?

Oh, HELL no.

Bridezilla, it's safe to say, freaked out. She threw a tantrum that actually drove Patient Groom out of the apartment for a bit, just to escape the insanity. It was quite the moment in Bridezilla history.

Even more disturbing, this time, that Bridezilla was me.

I know, it's horribly embarrassing. I have no excuse or quasi-reasonable explanation. I wasn't even PMSy. And clearly, I've lost all rights to make fun of the other crazy brides out there, which is perhaps the saddest part of all.

Ugh, what's wrong with me? This wedding is making me crazy. It's only a few months away now, so hopefully I will return to my normal self shortly. (Still snotty and short-tempered, but not freaking insane.) In the meantime, be on the lookout for Bridezilla rearing her ugly head. Because at this point, people, I fear I've lost control.

Oh, yeah, and the invites are gonna be a little late...

Gymnastics, then and now

Sometimes I really miss gymnastics. I don't really miss the 20-hour-a-week workouts, the long traveling to competitions every weekend, the blistered hands, the pressure from coaches and judges, the injuries... But I do miss having something that I was so fiercely proud of, something that I was so dedicated to that I didn't even flinch at the intense physical challenges it required. Yeah, me -- physically active.

So, I watched the US Gymnastics Championships today. No matter how long it's been since I've stretched or done a cartwheel, I still love watching gymnastics (not that rhythmic shit where they dance around with ribbons, but the real stuff). But I still can't believe how so much about it has changed! Here are just a few differences I notice between my competition days and the gymnastics we see today...

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THEN: The vault was nothing more than a rectangular horse with two metal poles supporting it. Not the safest-looking apparatus.










NOW: The vault is padded, angled and redesigned to prevent injuries.

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THEN: A perfect score was 10.0.








NOW: I don't even understand this ridic scoring process. They can get 15 now...? And all-around scores are in the triple digits?

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THEN: Dominique Moceanu

















NOW: Shawn Johnson

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THEN: Warm-up uniforms were crinkly, baggy, way-too-big windbreaker-type outfits that looked like they came from Stein Mart. One on Long Island.








NOW: Warm-up uniforms are fitted, sleek tracksuits that look like some Nike-Juicy hybrid, albeit a slightly shiny one.

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THEN: Tim Daggett and Elfi Schelgel doing commentary.










NOW: Tim Daggett and Elfi Schlegel doing commentary. (Some things never change.)

The most disturbing thing about this...

...is the misuse of the word "your." Yeah, yeah, it's intentional. I'm still annoyed by it, but not annoyed enough to keep this glorious image to myself. I mean, LOOK at that thing. Creepy yet hilarious.

No biting

When I was little, I bit my mom. Allegedly.

Okay, fine, I'm sure I DID actually bite her, but that's not the point of this blog. The point is what she did in retaliation: She bit me back.

Taught me a lesson! I'm told I never pulled that little stunt again.

But apparently, some mom in Tennessee (coincidence) tried the same tactic and got slapped with a big ol' charge of child neglect. You hear that, Mom?? She was arrested.





Some moms in the blogosphere are aghast. The more forgiving ones politely suggest anger management. I'm guessing my mom would give her a high five. Or a gestured teeth-chomp in a symbolic act of twisted solidarity.

Don't try this at home... uh.. work

Company-branded lollipops + Photo Booth + procrastination = THIS

I'm so amateur, I didn't know where to look.

Yo.

Beehive 'dos and alien life forms!

Don't act like you're not impressed.

God, we're so creepy.

Barack the Vote

Peace out, Hills. Despite your defiant, disappointing, delusional, unconscionable, devilish, petty and combative speech in which you refused to concede, your run -- along with my sympathy -- has ended.

My latest purchases

Someone should really stop me.

Bulga wide handle leather satchel

Silk strapless dress



Draped-front chiffon dress, solid turquoise




Draped-front bubble dress, another turquoise



Sleeveless chiffon dress, black with white trim



I also bought three pairs of wedding shoes nowhere near as cute as my first attempt, but hopefully more comfortable. I think they're kinda ugly, so I'm not going to link to them -- what's with all bridal shoes having that horrible ankle strap? -- so suffice to say they're ivory and all that matters is they don't make me fall.