number twenty three: genuine compliments

so in 1999 i was 12. and baz luhrman realeased a song called 'Everybody's free (to wear sunscreen).'

my life was changed. and upon hearing it, it instantly become my anthem. i've spent five years as a volunteer at leadership camp, and there was a period of time where i would wake the girls up in my cabin with this song. because i find it to be so inspirational from start to finish. it's like the entire song is an instructional manual that is so relevant for our generation.

i'm listening to it right now and it's taking all my willpower not to just start quoting it here.

sucks for you all i have no will power:
"Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and
recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before
you and how fabulous you really looked….You’re not as fat as you
imagine."

"The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that
never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm
on some idle Tuesday."

"Sing"

"Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with
people who are reckless with yours."

"Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children,maybe
you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky
chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…what ever you do, don’t
congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your
choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s."

"Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you
should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you
knew when you were young."


those are a couple of my favorites. but really, listen. it's all solid gold.



but so the real point of this post. sorry, it's late and i can't sleep so this is long and rambling.

today Elizabeth Taylor died. hollywood mourned, and the the fight to cure AIDS lost a champion of the cause. and upon hearing the news, i was instantly brought back to this moment 6 or 7 years ago.

i was working the front desk at my job and this patient came in and we were making the standard small talk. thinking back, i can't even remember which patient it was. but so in the middle of the standard small talk, this patient looks at me and says "you've got eyes just like Elizabeth Taylor."

isn't it funny how certain compliments you receive simply resonate for years to come? they stick with you, and even in your darkest moments you can recall them. while your world is crashing, there's at least this one golden nugget of verbal love. this compliment, which was maybe a meaningless observation to the person saying it, sticks. and sticks right.

there's this point in the Luhrman song where he instructs: "Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how."

because of having this pointed out to me in his song, i've always tried to hold onto the good and get rid of the bad. i can remember specific compliments. the liz taylor one. my first boyfriend complimenting my dancing. my most recent boyfriend complimenting my wit. a friend complimenting my writing.

and i can only remember one specific insult.

i think i've managed one part of Luhrman's manual. though how, i can't tell you.

but since he's all about giving advice, i'll add to what he had to say. compliments are important, and maybe in order for them to stick tighter than the insults we need to hear them often. which means maybe we need to give them more often.

a genuine compliment can clearly last a lifetime. i'll probably always hold onto my liz taylor compliment. start giving some verbal love in the form of a compliment. it could change a life.



but trust me on the sunscreen.

number twenty two: cherry blossoms

so this afternoon was a terrible one. first, i'm still not 100% over the great flu pandemic. and i don't care if i'm using the term pandemic incorrectly, i'm all for exaggerating. but in all honestly, the sickness is pretty over. i even ate for the first real time in three days. it was glorious.

the second thing is really what made my day rough.

so i'm driving down 405 on my way to work this afternoon and i notice my heat gauge sky rocket out of no where. i think to myself hmmm, well that's funny! let's just ignore it and hope it knocks it off. that's my policy when something goes wrong with anything (car... friendship... boyfriend... weight gain...) and most times, things work themselves out.

well, i get off the freeway and am at a stoplight and my car dies. in an intersection. suddenly smoke starts coming out from under my hood.

i was that girl. in a sundress. and boots. wearing over sized sunglasses. and some might even consider me blonde. PANICKING with a stalled car. saying i looked like a twit is probably an understatement.

somehow by the grace of god i got my car to start without causing a major traffic incident and managed to park it at work. i was in a tizzy, so i did what i always do when something is going awry. i called my daddy.

when he heard me say "my car won't start" he promptly hung up on me. my father never hangs up on me. he occasionally raises his voice (like with my first car which i killed since no one ever told me i needed to put oil in a car... his bad though really... how is a 16 year old girl supposed to just know that, right?). but i don't know if he's ever hung up on me.

it was then that this day could have gone from poo on your shoe bad to pooping your pants bad.

however, i didn't melt down like i normally tend to do. i'm reeeeeal good at going from cool and collected to total japan style nuclear reactor threat in less than 30 seconds flat. too soon for that reference?

today instead i locked my car door, watched as smoke billowed out from under my hood, and walked towards work. and then something caught my attention.

first, it was that the sun was out. rare for washington, esp since i've seemingly been engulfed in darkness lately from being camped out in the sick ward of my basement bedroom. it was a sunny day and then i realized oh my goodness, the cherry blossoms are out in full force.



cherry blossoms, you see, equate to spring. which equates to sunshine. and sunshine equates to sundresses. and sundresses equate to happiness. i could do a mathematical equation for you to see exactly how this all works out, but i won't.


spring isn't my favorite season. indian summer takes that prize. however this year winter seems like it's stretched on and on and on. and then on some more. i know it's washington, so i know not to get my hopes up. our sunshine isn't going to last, it never does. it'll be raining by thursday.

however, the cherry blossoms are here. and my dad called back and apologized for hanging up on me. and my car's now running again. and so today, today is a good day. and soon enough i'll wake up to greet the heat in a new summer dress and bare feet.

but at least today i've got cherry blossoms. and the best dad in the world.

number twenty one: british accents

the first brit i ever met in person was a guy named bertie. i was 16 and was instantly in love. seeing as i'm now 23 and bertie and i aren't together, it's safe to say my crush didn't work out.

by the way, say 'bertie' in a british accent. you'll understand my instant love. i still giggle thinking about the way he said his name.

anyway though, back to the point.


i don't pay much notice to accents. mostly because hearing them in the northwest is so rare. occasionally you'll come across a good southern boy or a midwesterner. maybe if you're lucky you'll stumble across someone from boston. but rarely in this neck of the woods do you come across a british accent.


that is, unless you're home sick on a monday and you remember you recently bought a four pack of chick flick themed dvds. and you remember that 'Nottinghill' is part of that box set.

welcome to hugh grant heaven.





there's just something about that accent. in case you forgot, hugh grant has a thing for gross looking hookers. and yet, when he asks julia roberts in for tea you completely forget that. you just get lost in his voice. without fail.


hugh grant heaven is one full of crumpets. and horse and hound magazine. and you get lost in british culture. i was thisclose to buying a funny hat and going to find my nearest polo match.

these accents are addictive. they're worse than a herion addiction. okay, well maybe not that bad. but you get my point.


you may now proceed to watch hugh grant with caution, it'll make normal people talking to you so much less enjoyable.

and if you meet a british gent named bertie, pass along my number. i think he may have lost it.

number twenty: old favorite books

so this weekend i was sick. and we're not just talking migraine headache sick. we're not talking runny nose and hacking cough sick.

we're talking flu sick. it's the worst kind of sick.

everyone knows i complain a lot. probably more than most people. and usually about silly things, like that my socks aren't soft enough. but when a lady has the flu, a little complaining is bound to happen.

so this weekend, my poor parents had to suffer hearing me complain about how terrible i felt. about how i couldn't eat anything. about how all i wanted was sprite, and my mother had the nerve to buy 7-up. i've heard most women handle being sick well, and it's you men out there that are the wussies who can't handle it. that is very much not the case for me.

however, in the hours right before the deathly 2011 flu hit me, i was in my basement bedroom taking a gander at the many boxes stored near where i sleep. you see, when i was away at school my parents moved from the house i spent middle and high school in to the one i call home now. i didn't come home to help pack boxes (because clearly i'm a brat) and so now whenever my mind gets to wandering about where a certain long forgotten object is i know that i'm flat outta luck. it's boxed in the many boxes we've yet to unpack, and i'm not about to dig through them all.

that is, until i got to wondering where all my harry potter books were.

i know i know, nerdy. it just kind of hit me, and i had the insatiable need to get my hands on them.

after coming across many a spider, having a box of camping dishwear fall on my head, and getting very distracted by my brother's stash of tech-decks, i hit the mother load. i came across a box of my favorite books from my teen years.

you see, growing up i was a bit of a reader. and by "a bit" i mean it was something i loved. even more so than i loved obsessing about boys. even more than i loved worrying about how thick my eyebrows were. even more than i loved picking on my brother. even more than i loved spending hours on the phone with katie talking about who knows what. i gobbled up books, and there were some that i read over and over and over again. and this box i found contained all of them.

it was my holy grail. dusty. torn. creased edges. the smell of an old book. this box was an amazing find. this box was like finding a part of myself i'd forgotten about, since i'd forgotten many of these books. or at least i'd forgotten their titles. but upon cracking their worn spines i came across stories so familiar that i burned through one cover to cover, all 200 pages, in an hour.


friday, before i was knocked on my butt from being sick, i got lost in the heaven that was my adolescence.

or at least the heaven that was my literary adolescence.

number nineteen: pet adoption

okay, so this one is important. and i mean more than just being important to me and my small, contained world. this one is BIG important. like, whole world important.


animals are important to me. i've already written a post about my love of dogs, it was an early one. and so maybe i'm repeating myself. but i don't have a problem doing that to hopefully get a point across.

and as aforementioned, this is an important point.

march 15th is national pet adoption day. a day which i celebrated by buying my pup Mac a rather large bone and finally got him a fancy dog tag. Mac is a shelter dog. i adopted him from PAWS in september when he was three months old. he had been previously owned by a family who decided they couldn't have a dog after having bought him. had it not been for the possibility of adoption, who knows what would have happened to him. he certainly would not be cuddled up in my bed with me living the good life. chewing on a bone bigger than his head.

adoption is undeniably important. i'm not good with stats. i should be better, but i'm not. thank goodness for google. i found while conducting a little research that according to the ASPCA there are 5000 animal shelters nationwide. and no, there aren't real guidelines or nationwide regulations. some animals get lucky. like mac. some don't.




it is estimated that each year between 5 and 7 million animals are put in shelters.

here comes the part that is hard.

it's also estimated that 3 to 4 million animals are euthanized.

and this is something else i had to share, "five out of ten dogs in shelters and seven out of ten cats in shelters are destroyed simply because there is no one to adopt them."


okay okay, i know i know. i'm being a debbie downer. except i'm not really.

what i've learned is that pet ownership is right for some people and not for others. up until this point, owning a dog would have been a disaster for me. and even moreso for my poor roommate. it's important to wait until you're ready to commit. because trust me, having a dog really is like having a child. albeit, it's a lot more socially acceptable to have a smelly dog versus a smelly child.

pet adoption is important. but it's important to do so when you're ready. when you're at the right point in your life.

but when you're at that point, and you know the only thing missing from your life is the purr of a cat or a tail wagging to greet you at the door please adopt.


it'll be the only thing i ever ask you to do (at least in this post...)

please adopt when you're ready for a pet.


and if you're not ready for an animal in your life, donate. help save a life from euthanasia.


and hey, for more information about pet sponsorship in another part of the world (and some REALLY adorable pictures) check out this link:
http://aandbctheworld.blogspot.com/2011/03/dog-lovers.html

number eighteen: Drunk History

ok, so thus far in my blogging history i think the most important information i've given you is that my favorite number to write out is eleven. and just so you're all aware, my least favorite number to write out is eighteen. ugh. it just makes me cringe to even look at that number written out.

seriously, worst number ever. that's what's kept me away from writing for so long, avoiding writing out that number.


however, it's time to bite the bullet to share you one of the most ridiculous things i re-stumbled upon tonight. some of you are presumably familiar with funny or die, a website created by will ferrell. let me say, my opinion of will ferrell is similar to that of kirsten dunst. i'm not a huge fan. but every once in a while he gives me something i can't live without. certain things off this website fall into that category.

i can't imagine my life without drunk history. it's featured on the website and is pure genius.

let me explain the premise of these videos. history buffs (which i think are probably grad students due to the age they appear to be) get drunk and talk about a historical event. i know i know, it's a complicated premise right? simplicity equates to genius in my book, and hence why i am in love with this web series.


this is the first video created. and clearly, it's amazing.
http://FunnyOrDie.com/m/kyw



i like to think that i would make an EPIC episode of drunk history.
and yes, clearly i already know the specifics.

i would consume 5 AMFs. for all of you who aren't aware of what this drink is, consider yourself lucky.
and then i would consume at least one original 4loko. you know, just to keep things classy.

i would then proceed to talk about a specific historical event. mine would be about amelia earhart and her failed trip around the world. because for whatever reason i can still remember a project i did on her in like 6th grade.

the drunk history would undoubtedly end with me yelling about really needing a hot dog. followed by my language skills failing and i would begin to speak complete jibberish. and finally ending with an attempt to make out with the camera man.

clearly, my drunk history would be a funny or die classic.



drunk history, you are utterly wonderful.
will ferrell, i'll be waiting for your call to start filming.