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alarm

Bailey and I both signed up for 2 weeks of unlimited Pure Barre, which means I’ve been getting up insanely early (hello 4:45 a.m., nice to meet you. jk not really) . Today we decided to take a rest day (aka I went running instead of Pure Barre because ANYTHING is easier than Pure Barre), so I sent Bailey a screenshot of all of my bizarre alarms I have set. I’m kind of afraid we are the same person, because hers looked almost identical to mine…

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And in case you needed anymore evidence that we’re the same person, exhibit B:

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buy me brunch

This is my face whenever someone say the word “brunch”:

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#jizzinmypants

An excuse to drink before noon? I’ll take it! So whenever I found a tshirt company in San Fran called “Buy Me Brunch,” and I saw that they sold drinking tshirts, I couldn’t help but pine over a few of these. Not that I need another drinking shirt (and I for sure don’t need another drinking hat), but I think at least one of these needs to come to Papa.

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And, of course, my life mantra:

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suggested

I use the Google suggested search tool a lot for work to see what types of things people are searching. And sometimes I use at work to attempt to defeat the office Chipotle mafia on free lunch Fridays:

Screen Shot 2015-04-23 at 10.41.17 PMBut I made an important realization recently that Facebook ALSO has a suggested search tool now. And I’m a little disturbed what comes up:

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Not only am I sort of disturbed that people are looking for bathing suit pictures of me, but if you actually click it, this is the only thing that comes up!

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A three year old photo of my in my mom’s conservative skirted one piece–you know, trying to leave things to the imagination? And just in case you can’t see it, Melissa commented on how the skin exposing buckle is rather revealing (though on me it just reveals my sternum soooooooooo….).

Let’s talk about social media a little bit more. A lot of people at my office tell me that recruiters hit them up on LinkedIn all day every day, but me, not so much. Admittedly, it’s not the most professional thing.

Exhibit A–please notice my second to last most endorsed skill (not sure how I pulled that one off):

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And then there’s my languages…

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And my summary contains the words “fart”, “anal”, and “alcoholic,” so I’ve got that going for me, too.

One last thing. I finally found a use for the troll emoji:

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Okay sorry I actually have one other thing. Bailey and I are giving a training session tomorrow at work on Crucial Conversations so we had everyone take this quiz to figure out their style under stress. When we were analyzing the test results, we noticed a few that came back “abnormal,” so we emailed those people to let them know that their test results were inconclusive and that they were divergent.

And in case you’re wondering, my strongest style under stress is “masking.” I’m a master masker.

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redemption

Remember when my friend John got called out for trying to steal my homerun ball from me?

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Seeing as John is the biggest DC sports fan ever (seriously, ever, keep reading), I can say with some certainty that he probably didn’t enjoy this notoriety.

Last night, John redeemed himself.

This a vine someone took of a group of people leaving Nat’s stadium last night. John can be seen doing, as one of John’s Facebook friends best described, a “slightly off-kilter one man jig of joy.”

Around 1 a.m., John got a call from Dan Steinberg to do an interview for a story (which you can read here), so now John gets to call himself DC’s biggest sports fan. Of course, my reaction to the article was, “OMG now everyone knows you’re 30…”

Jk, Johnny baby. From the article:

The face of Washington sports Tuesday night belonged not to Nicklas Backstrom, nor to John Wall, nor to Yunel Escobar. The face I’ll remember belonged to John Hartnett, making his way toward the exit at Nationals Park, all giggles and giddiness.

The 30-year-old lifelong D.C. sports fan sat in the 100 level for Tuesday’s Nationals-Cardinals game. He and his friend spent much of the night staring at their phones, getting “every single possible alert” about the road playoff games featuring the Wizards and the Capitals while watching the Nats head to extra innings.

At around 10:39, the Caps topped the Islanders on Backstrom’s overtime goal to even their first-round playoff series at two games apiece. Perhaps two minutes later, Wall and the Wizards finished off a surprising blowout of the Raptors to take a 2-0 lead in their own first-round series. This was the first time both franchises had ever — ever — won playoff games on the same night. And at Nats Park, the anticipation for something special grew.

“Everyone,” Hartnett said, “was just going crazy.”

Ten minutes later, Yunel Escobar blasted a walk-off homer in the bottom of the 10th, pushing the Nats past the Cardinals, the villains from Washington’s brutal playoff disappointment in 2012. Escobar slid headfirst into home. Fans around the area hugged, laughed and screamed. All of this was too much happiness. Which is why MASN cameras soon captured an unwitting Hartnett joyfully skipping and shimmying his way back home.

“I don’t know, as a lifelong D.C. sports fans, it was one of the best feelings I’ve ever had,” Hartnett said 90 minutes later, still pulsing from that trifecta. “The city was 3 for 3. Like, 3 for 3? It felt so good. It felt so good.”

You make me proud, John Farnett Josh Hartnett John Hartnett.

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Some other blogs about John:

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maternal

My mom is coming to visit me this weekend. This has only happened maybe three times since I moved down from PA to Merryland in 2011, so I figured I should try to make the most of our time. Unfortunately, she’s already turned down my two best ideas:

  1. Korean bathhouse that makes you get completely naked in front of each other
  2. Margarita march in DC 

The fact that she showed zero interest in either of these activities naturally makes me further question her maternal claims. I spent the whole weekend asking my dad, “why DO I like so much like Uncle Lou?” this past weekend because I’m pretty convinced he and my Aunt Dottie are my real parents. He essentially told me I’m too white to be Uncle Lou’s daughter (Uncle Lou is Puerto Rican).

Speaking of white, I was walking over to the Town Center for 2nd happy hour last Thursday (one apparently isn’t enough anymore and I’m expecting an intervention any day now), when I noticed a young man approaching while singing & listening to his head phones. Now, I’m not sure if these were lyrics to the song or not, but as he walked by, he sang,

“Hey white girl you look fat.” Or maybe it was phat? I’m hoping it was phat.

Anyway, let’s talk about my “mom” some more. My mom’s Facebook exists entirely to embarrass me. Last Christmas, she posted a throwback of me in the third grade. The big problem I have with my third grade picture is that it’s proof that at one point in my life I “rocked” a mullet that would have made Joe Dirt proud. So I did what anyone would do if they that wanted to forget those dark days in Western PA–I deleted AND blocked my mom on Facebook.

Eventually she found her way back on my friend list, just in time to post this gem for my 26th birthday:

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My response?

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So since I’m going to have to wait for the DNA test I just Amazon Primed and for my mom to get here so I can trick her into taking it, I’ve been on the lookout for other proof of my true creators.

Exhibit A–my mom in her mid-20s and me in my mid 20s:

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Sidenote, that picture resulted in the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me:

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Exhibit B–our outfits of choice for Thanksgiving last year:

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Exhibit C–taking to Twitter with our problems because no one else seems to care:

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See you soon, mom!

PS: I went to my friend Nina’s place yesterday to see if being 26 means I no longer have aversions to babies:

Screen Shot 2015-04-20 at 10.07.28 PMTo be determined, my friends, to be determined.

Related posts:

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a note from Grammy

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please don’t try to walk in these. They are just for looking at. Much love, pop & gram. Happy birthday!

Related post: Emails from My Grandparents

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if you would have ever told me

If you would have ever told me that I’d let me blog go for over two months, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. And if you would have told me that I’d ever want to spend a rainy Friday night cleaning out my closets, washing my towels, and updating my blog, I probably wouldn’t have believed that either.

I also can’t believe I took my first spinning class last week. Well actually, let me rephrase that. My coworkers FORCED me to attend my first spinning class last week. I had always heard rumors about spinning desensitizing a woman’s front-butt, which was really a risk I was never willing to take. I’m not going to confirm or deny but I think I will stick to my Les Mills classes for the time being and pray that it’s enough to combat the copious amounts of pizza I’ve made a habit of consuming.

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And then there’s the fact that I’m turning 26 in less than two weeks. That means I have less than two weeks to be 25 sittin’ on 25 mil. You know, Drake style?

I’m continuously shocked by how little I change despite getting older. I mean obviously my looks and figure are on a steep decline (jk kind of sort of not really), but I still do that thing where when I drink too much, I run away and hide from my friends. I chose to do this at a St. Patrick’s Day bar crawl in Baltimore, which is probably one of the most dangerous things I’ve ever decided to do. After a few blocks of running, I looked up and saw I was on Leakin Street, which reminded me of Leakin Park (where the body was found in the podcast, Serial). I called my friends to let them know I had somehow made my way into the podcast and was very scared. Normal stuff, you know? Oh and I fell off a bench.

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What else is new since my last post?

  • I finally went to Thai Tanic.
  • I’ve become obsessed with red lips and want to wear them every day.
  • I bought a family sized bag of Doritos at Costco, which at the time I convinced myself was surely a sign that I’ve given up on life.
  • On a recent trip to Charlotte, my coworker Hannah told me that I looked like “Lauren Conrad having a bad hair day,” which is easily the nicest compliment anyone has ever given me.
  • I let Bailey talk me into doing a 5K with her in DC for one of our clients, but only if we could go to brunch after.
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  • I friended my Uncle on Facebook almost two months ago and never heard anything back. Even my own family doesn’t want to be my friend.
  • I didn’t get invited home for Easter this year. I guess when you turn down Easter three years in a row you eventually stop getting the invite.
  • They did invite me to go see Phantom of the Opera in Pittsburgh with them though. I asked really annoying questions like “was he a ghost the whole time or just at the end?”
  • I attended my first baby shower and also asked really annoying questions the whole time like, “what in the hell is a diaper genie?”
  • I was gifted a selfie stick, so you should probably avoid my Instagram for the next month or so.
  • I paid off two of my student loans. Only a million more to go!
  • There is such a thing as a Pop-Tart Donut–a donut filled with Pop-Tart filling.
  • Six months after moving into my “new” apartment, I’m still on the hunt for the perfect coffee table. At least good wall art isn’t nearly as hard to find….
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elastic

You know how sometimes you have days like this?

Well. Today I had a day like this:

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Yes–those are five-tier Minnetonkas because no, my three-tier ones were not enough.

I dreamt of my love last night, who I haven’t dreamt of in quite some time.

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In my dream, he was just as sick as he was before we had to put him down–except he was in my mom’s old house and we had forgotten he was there–sick and alone for who knows how long.

If I’m being honest with myself, I think the dream has a lot to do with someone else in my life who is sick and who I feel almost as equally powerless to help anymore.

The limited stability in my life has come from somewhere I never thought I would find it–in taking care of myself.

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Sorry–ignore the part about the vodka.

So yes, even after the dream, the rest of my day went on to be increasingly lousy. I may have punched a door and broken one of my bracelets in the process. But before I knew it, I was pulling into the parking lot of Gold’s Gym ready to get out my frustrations. And let me tell you, if you want to up your weight in not one, not two, but three different Body Pump tracks, all you have to do is suffer under the weight of a terrible day–and then physical weight will never feel as heavy.

I’m feeling a lot better now–and I apologize for being such a killjoy blogger. If you find yourself having a similar Monday, this song has been helping me out a lot. You won’t see me fall apart ’cause I’ve got an elastic heart. Bonus points? Shia Labeouf is in that music video and I’m pretty sure he’s supposed to look homeless but he looks sexy as fack. The obsession that waned with the ending of Even Stevens has been exponentially renewed with this music video.

Come to me, Louis. Errr. I mean Shia.

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not dead yet!

It’s definitely been 6+ months since I had my hair done, and I have one very important question. How come when Drew Barrymore lets her roots go, she looks super cool…

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…and when I let my roots go I look more like an unshowered Courtney Love?

Anyway.

I forgot to tell you the funniest thing that happened–and thankfully I had Jill to remind me of it.

Traditionally, my sisters and I spend Christmas Eve with my dad’s family and Christmas day with my mom’s family. I didn’t make it home until almost midnight on Christmas day, so I missed out on a lot (okay, pretty much all) of the festivities. But that doesn’t mean I’m dead, people:

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The weekend before Christmas, Brian and I drove up to Philly to spend some time with his dad. I realize that as a Pittsburgh native, I’m supposed to dislike Philadelphia, but I cannot possibly dislike a city that combines cheese, steak, and bread so beautifully (in case you’re curious, almost all guides pointed me to Pat’s for cheesesteaks).

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I have only met Brian’s dad a few times, but I happened to spot a Spartan warrior helmet as soon as I entered his home. I don’t even think I said hi to him before I beelined straight to the helmet.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to need to put this on,” I told him.

And of course, put it on I did.

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Before you even say it Trevor (just in case you still read my blog), yes–I know I look a lot prettier with that helmet on.

Goodnight!

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festival fashion

 Is it weird that I would wear what I call “festival fashion” pretty much every day of my life?
Festival Fashion

 

 

As much as I hated all the teenage butt cheek at Sweet Life last year (high-waisted short trend–you can die now), I couldn’t help but love the festival atmosphere.

Take me back.

 

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I love the pin-up looking girl lounging in the background of this photo. How timeless does she look? I wish I was her in this picture instead of the doofus holding the Bud Light with the strategically placed company logo on my beer koozie.

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