New Years in August (Since Christmas in July just passed).

Recently Cartoon Network (is it even called that anymore) brought back a childhood favorite and did Christmas in July. Can we say ‘Awesome’? And recently I’ve been feeling like my body has ballooned in the last two years. Can we can ‘Ew’? Yes to both.

I’ve mentioned before that living in South FL will make your self-esteem plummet to non-existent but the random growth spurt of 4 inches in the last year hasn’t helped at all. So now I’m left with a body that I’d love to hide forever. If only wearing ghost costumes year-round was fashionable.

Therefore, I am declaring it New Year’s in August (since Christmas just passed in July). My original New Year’s resolution, back in January, was to drink less. I think I’ve turned from a fish into … someone who doesn’t get trashed EVERY night. Now my new resolution is to be comfortable with myself. Yes, that does include a diet/exercise plan in the fine print. And I’m thinking of adding an amendment about my caffeine addiction.

Here is the problem. I’ve got 15 pounds to go and no idea what to do. I eat fairly well (if anything I subsist off caffeine, greek yogurt, celery, and vodka) but I feel like I’m not healthy. And I’m attempting this gym thing everyday. How do those celebrities do it? Unless there is someone with a bullwhip going after me, I’m not running five miles on a treadmill. Hell, I’m barely lasting 35/40 minutes. Although, I am entirely proud of myself for venturing upstairs into the manly world of weight machines. It’s intimidating and I’m still convinced I look like an idiot every time.

So how do other people magically figure out what to do to tone up their bodies? The web offers up an array of information that just boggles the fuck out of my mind. Diet this, crunch this, miracle pills! Wtf. How is a girl supposed to feel good about herself when all that is out there? Don’t even get me started on the asshole who honked at me in the Walmart parking lot and told me to get my fat ass out of the way. Ouch.

Well here’s to you August. Let’s up for some success in the (mid)New Year’s resolution.

Julie/Julia and everything I DON’T want to be

The problem with growing up and leaving college is that boredom happens. Not the sit around in your underwear and surf the internet boredom – god knows we all love to do that. I’m talking about the boredom that sets in when you feel like you’re doing nothing with your life. Listless boredom that always leads you to pick up some wacky thought or get on some kick (maybe that’s just me).

Well that boredom has been creeping in and Thursday it found an outlet through my web surfing/inability to concentrate at work. I’ve been there and done that famous Barnes & Noble bookmark of “50 Books to Read Before You” years ago. And now I’ve found 1001 Books to Read Before You Die. Sounds like a challenge and something incredibly dumb to undertake.

Naturally I printed out the list and set out to my favorite (but slightly overpriced) used book store in South Fl – Volume 1. I wandered around aimlessly trying to find titles from the list since I didn’t have the idea to alphabetize it by author’s last name. Eventually I found 3 on the list and 3 not on the list but I wanted anyways. One would think, with so many titles to read or re-read, I’d start on the the list right away. Wrong.

Instead I picked up Julie/Julia: A Story of Getting Fat and Treating My Husband Horribly. I’ve never seen the movie but my mother and grandmother did and they thought it was simply wonderful. Well I read the book and Julie is an absolute nut job but managed to find the perfect husband. Go figure.

When (god help me) I’m on the brink of 30, I severely hope I’m not drowning in A) butter B) the ticking of a biological clock and C) extreme self-pity. I might not know what I want to do with my life now but in a few years I’d like to be not slamming my head against a counter and screaming FUCK YOU to some eggs.

The irony, of course, is that by the end of the Project she realizes that Julia Child thinks she is a little bitch. Yes, the same old Julia Child that taught our mothers and grandmothers how to cook sans-microwave. I don’t blame Julia for having felt disrespected. She spent a life-time mastering French Cooking and this woman thought she’d figure her life out by doing it in a year? Yeah, no.

But on the flip side, this story does speak to me about what I don’t want to be in 6 or so years. After finishing the book and giving my point of view on it, my mom was more than happy to put it into perspective for me. She pointed out that YES I’m 22 and single. YES I live with a cat and walls full of books. YES I haven’t gotten around to finding a career yet or figuring out what I’m going to do yet. And YES I’m still single without prospects right now. Thanks mom, really.

Is it better to drift through your 20s and wait until later to figure it all out or should I be aiming now to put my life on track so there are no MtAoFC fiascos later in life? I don’t think my skinny jeans would like a year full of butter, cream, and animal organs.

Mr. Right of the Past

There was a guy in high school and my first semester of college who I was head over heels in love with. I never dated him but we had THAT connection and I always wished he would wake up and realize he was serious about me. I settled for BFF status and was content with finishing each others sentences, stealing kisses when I could, and falling to sleep listening to him talk almost every night.

Naturally I made the idiotic decision every 18-year old girl is capable of making and turned down top-notch private schools to attend Party State School. Not even THE party state schools, the third one down without the academic prestige. Why? Him.

Even more naturally, we got into a fight in my second semester of college because I was growing up into my own person. I rushed a sorority, made friends with my sisters, started caring about clothes and how I looked. In other words, I wasn’t entirely his anymore. Fast forward over 3 years and two serious boyfriends later and we’re at last December.

I’m a completely different person now and he’s pretty much the same. I went home for the first time since I left for college (for more than a night). Out of some strange longing for my core high school friends, I FBed one (not the guy) and we all hung out. It was like nothing changed with these guys. Especially THE guy. For two weeks I was able to be my ‘new’ self and have my old friends which was amazing. More importantly, this guy and I were right where we’d always been which was good and bad at the same time.

And now, a few months and promising to call but never doing so later, we’re back in the same position. I recently read CollegeCandy’s Single Though Someday Maybe Not article and it got me thinking. Was it possible that this guy, who I’ve shared everything in the world with, maybe the one I’ll end up with? We’re able to go months without talking and pick up without a hitch, even the cuddling parts.

But then maybe I’m holding on to what was Mr. Right of the Past. Back then he might have someday been someone I could have seen myself with but then we decided to grow up. It’s hard to differentiate between reality and nostalgia at times. Is there really such thing as the Mr. Right of the Past turning into Someday Maybe? Or are we just scared to move on from our comforting memories to the unknown dating world?

(Editor’s Note: Said author just currently jumped out of her PJs and abandoned horrible movie night to go get a drink with said boy. Just saying!)

Pains of Fitting In

I woke up this morning and the first thought that came to mind was that ‘Oh! Maybe that tropical storm came in further east and work would be cancelled’ but that joyous thought process was quickly replaced as I moved in the slightest way.

It was ‘oh crap, OWWWWWWWW’ and hitting the snooze on my Blackberry. Why the pain? I’m back in South Florida and unfortunately the pressure to have a slammin’ body is back on. Living in Orlando was a breeze, I was surrounded by NorthFace, Ugg, and denim skirt wearing girls and I was a pretty cute find at the bars (ie depending on the night’s drink special).

And now my size 2 to 4 ass is always back in line at the bars of Las Olas. Why? Everyone here is crazy tall, skinny, tan, and the list goes on. Two weeks in South FL and my level of self-esteem has tanked. Go figure.

So what’s a girl going to do? Well I signed up for the gym and have been hauling my butt in there every day after work. Um, ouch. I’d say it’s back to dieting but living off coffee and water doesn’t leave much room to cut out anything.

Which brings me to my final thing. Why or why did I have to give up my 11:30 spin classes in college? Sleep in, stumble to class, go to spin, and then drink away all the work I did that afternoon. Because 7:30 AM and 6:30 PM spin is not as fun as it sounds.

Temporary Location

- LAC crew

Please excuse the crappy excuse for a designed blog. The amazingly awesome Web Savvy Intern left the original design/coding stuff flash drive on the top of her car. We assume the drive met it’s death on 95 in rush hour traffic (ouch).

And most of us are more graphic/word inclined than that HTML/PHP/MySQL complication stuff. So it is our decision to start putting up the first round of articles on this temporary site until we can figure out how to redo a prettier version.

Enjoy!

Is there life after college?

- Gem

Two years ago I put some oversized black robes and spent three hours (thank you incredibly large state university) doing the funeral march at graduation. I was leaving behind the best (read drunkest) 4 years of my life and being pushed out into the real world. At the onset on the unemployment crisis no less. Back then that was my worst nightmare.

Oh but a few weeks ago I found a new worst nightmare and I was living it. Fast forward two years and two jobs later and I’m STILL out of college and moving back in with my parents because it seems like a step above Medicare and food stamps. 22 and living with my parents – oh boy. I tried in vain to remain near my alma mater and it’s 2-4-1 happy hours/Mug Mondays/younger boys looking for wristband-wielding pumas. Hell, all my friends were still party-hard frat boys and sorority sisters. A few of them were in the same after-college boat as me.

And then reality hit that I can still spend hours on CollegeFashion and CollegeCandy all I want but I do have to step out into reality and put down the Natty Light can. So I’m embarking on this new journey – new city, new BS job, and figuring out the big question:

Is there life after college? A fun, exciting one preferably.