Shop 'til you drop

San Francisco was awesome and you guys were right -- it was hard to leave. I'll do some sort of recap this week or weekend, but in the meantime, here's another way I've been spending too much money lately...

Bluefly sent me an email the other day saying that they missed me.

OMG, I thought, I miss you too!

So, to show my love, I bought a few fun things with my discount:







As if that wasn't enough, I then arrived at a hair appointment a little early and decided to kill time by wandering around Urban Outfitters. I ended up walking out of there with a gray skirt, ivory cardigan, white scarf and black leggings. That's right, no color here. Apparently, I should be living in the black-fashion abyss of Manhattan.

And then, because THAT wasn't enough, I went to Lulus.com and used one of my gift cards from Christmas.





And after that, the whore-y case for my iPhone tore so I clearly needed to buy a new one:


And then, my bank account screamed, my check book burst into flames, food stamps fell from the sky and an invite to rehab for shopping addiction magically appeared in my hands.

Well, whatever, there's nothing wrong with a little retail therapy every now and then. Right?

My dog is not a killing machine

Never in a million years did I think I would get a boy dog, much less a boy pit bull. But here I am, a happy mommy with the sweetest pup on the planet, full of cuddles and love.

Those of you who know him know that he will hurl all 55 pounds of himself onto you as soon as you sit down. He'll rest his head right in your lap while we talk. He'll give you kisses if you want them. He'll nudge closer and closer until he's practically on top of you. He is the very definition of sweet.

Yet, whenever I walk this people-loving, dog-friendly pit bull, people act as if I'm walking Hannibal Lecter on a leash.

They cross to the other side of the street to avoid him.

They plaster themselves against a fence to stay out of our way.

They stare, wide-eyed and terrified as they pass.

It. Is. Infuriating.

Most people don't even give him a chance. One girl, while waiting for her bus, actually walked into the street so she wouldn't be too close to us. Seriously. She'd rather get hit by a car than risk getting sniffed by this obedient, leashed dog.

On that same walk, an old man didn't even give us the opportunity to move out of his way; instead, he immediately started walking on ice to avoid Rocco. In case you don't know, old man + ice = DANGER. But again, he'd rather break some bones that risk getting a glance from my pup.

Now, I understand that some people are scared of dogs. But this happens far too often for that many people to have a canine complex. No, this is pure, unadulterated pit-bull prejudice.

It really disgusts me how many people give us that "look," the one that says, "Ugh, how dare you bring a vicious, fighting beast into this neighborhood and have the nerve to walk him within 20 feet of my personal space." Is Rocco stronger than most dogs? Yes. Is he aggressive? Absolutely not. You'd know that if you didn't sprint into oncoming traffic to avoid us.

But because he's a pit bull, he is deemed dangerous. And it's bullshit.

I don't know every single pit bull in the world, so yeah, there are some shitty pits out there. (Just like there are shitty labs, greyhounds, poodles, etc.) There's even one pit bull in my neighborhood that always tries to attack Roc for no discernible reason. It's true that these dogs were originally bred for fighting, and, unfortunately, some ignorant people still follow that tradition, giving all pits a bad name.

That said, stereotyping every pit bull you see as a murderous killing machine is just wrong. Not just morally or ethically, but logically.

According to the American Temperament Test Society, pit bulls have an average temperament score that even beats out the "ultimate family dog," the Golden Retriever -- not to mention many, many more. Generally speaking, they are not the carnivorous little devils that you see in the media.

Speaking of the media, if you want to read some stories about heroic pit bulls, click here.

I couldn't be happier that Rocco is in our lives and I don't know what we did to be lucky enough to end up with such a well-trained, kind-hearted little love machine. What I do know is that I keep hoping we're helping change the unfair stereotype about pit bulls. And in the meantime, if you live in Chicago and want a little extra puppy love, you know where to find us.

First trip of 2010

Dave and I are headed to San Francisco on Friday!

I've never been there before. Actually, I've never really been to the West Coast. I was technically in LA for two days on my honeymoon on our way to Australia, but I was such a sick little mess that I barely ventured out of the hotel room. (And not in a good way. I wanted to die.) So, really, it doesn't count.

This time, we're going to SF to visit Dave's best man. I have no idea what the weekend will entail besides heavy drinking and decent weather -- which is all I require on a good trip. But if you've been before and you know of a restaurant, bar or boutique that I cannot, should not miss, let me know!

Welcome to the 'hood. Now get out.

I have new neighbors.

I haven't technically met them yet, but I'm pretty sure I hate them. This is why:

• First off, they have two cars. Two large, white cars. This means they will be parking on our tiny patch of asphalt, hogging most of the room so that we and our other neighbor have to constantly play musical chairs to let each other out. Fun.
  

• Second, one of their massive cars is a minivan. A minivan! I know I'm prejudice against these things, but really, there is nothing more obnoxious than a childless person driving one.

• Third, that minivan has a vanity plate that says SQRPNTS. As in SQR PNTS. As in Square Pants. As in fucking Sponge Bob Square Pants.

• Fourth, they like to play Ke$ha's music really, really loud. This is how I know they don't have children.

Soo, we'll see how this mess goes. The assholes live on the third floor while we're on the first, so the noise level isn't even as bad for us as it is for our poor second-floor neighbor. But I'll be damned if I don't throw a tantrum about it anyway.

Make me feel better: What's the worst neighbor you've ever had?

Things I do not care about

• Basketball that doesn't involve LeBron James
• Hipster boys in skinny jeans
• The New Orleans Saints
• Gin
  
• Farmville
• Horses
• Snuggies
• Kiera Knightly
• Techno music
• True Blood
• Michigan Ave.
• Anything Sarah Palin says
• Bacon
  
• The South
• As the World Turns, even though my DVR insists on recording it
• Fedoras
• Looking cute when it's cold outside
  

It's coming together

I want my apartment to look like an Ikea catalog rather than a sterile hospital room. I am determined to make this happen this year, and so far, it's not sucking.


Project 1: Sew my own Roman shades.

Success! Who would have thought that the first time I ever touched a sewing machine, this magic came out?



Project 2: Get a dining room so we can stop eating on the couch.

Another success! And this one didn't even require me to sew anything... yet.




Project 3 is going to be to sew sage-green Roman shades over the dining room's god-awful mini blinds. I'm not gonna lie, I already attempted this once. But after nearly sewing my finger to a drape and sewing more haphazardly than a blind drunk guy, I gave up.

Not quite sure when I'll work up the courage to try this again, but I think I need a few lessons from Suz first. Apparently, my first sewing attempt was just beginner's luck.

Any bets on the over-under for when I cave and just buy some ready-made drapes?

My baby boy

I've been working like a fucking madwoman on the weekdays and freelancing on the weekends, so this dear blog of mine is being neglected more than a ginger stepchild. I do have some things I want to say though. It's just a matter of finding the time to get it out.

Sooo, in the meantime, here are some picture of the newest love of my life, Rocco.