My one complaint: too pretentious for solitaire?

This blog entry comes straight from my brand new 15 -inch MacBook Pro.  Yes, "pro".  As in "professional."  Professional laptop-breaker?  Perhaps.

I am a "computer person's" worst nightmare.  I know nothing about technology.  That seems insane to say in 2007 when computers are no longer dorky and we rely on them to live and function, but really.  I understand precious little.  My sole requirements for a new computer were the following:

1. Not heavy, or, at the very least, not heavy enough to break my nose

2. Pretty

And that's it, so this new one really fits the bill (I can't believe I just used that cliche-just because I'm reluctant to join the 21st century technology-wise doesn't mean I should talk like I live in a speak-easy).  I'm basically terrified of breaking it, and I don't really know what I'm doing, but dammit, it LOOKS really cool.  And that's what counts.  I'm nervous of it getting scratched or something, so I've finally found a use for those dust-bags from purses and shoes that I have lying around (I'm rotating between Coach and Seychelles-I've found that the Juicy Couture ones are too thick and cumbersome.  Maybe I should post this observation on some kind of Mac forum so I can get pelted with e-fury and cyber insults).

But I'm loving this Photo Booth thing.  Is someone at Apple as OCD as I am about having something stuck in your teeth or on your face?  Because I will use this constantly.

Apparently it counts down before it takes the picture.  I wasn't aware of this despite the big red flashing numbers, so I now have a default picture that looks like I fell asleep while setting up the laptop.  I plan on keeping it like this for two reasons.  One, it makes me appear completely aloof and unfazed by this fancy technology.  And two, because my eyelashes look fabulous in MacBook Land.

Ali Lohan, take notice

Jamie Lynn: Mom, I know that I'm 16 and your only daughter that wears underwear in public, but I think I'm going to move in with my 19 year old boyfriend.
Mama Spears: No, I don't think so...
Jamie Lynn: Oh, really? Have you reconciled with Britney? Do you not need my Zoey 101 money anymore?
Mama Spears: I'll get the U-Haul!

I mean, seriously. My favorite part about this whole thing is the fact that she's "shocked". Really? Shocked? Shock is a word that I reserve to describe something that is completely unexpected and unlikely. Not the EXPECTED outcome.

God bless Lynn Spears and her crackerjack parenting. Dina Lohan is going to have to really step up her game.

"I said, in these shoes? I doubt you'd survive..."

Dear Friends At School,
I adore you all and have enjoyed your company immensely. However, I regret to inform you that you will never see me again, as I will not be returning to graduate school next semester. For I have fallen in love.


I know what you're thinking: it will never work out. This is fleeting. Once you commit to to these, it will only be a matter of time until a newer, shinier, younger pair of black, round-toed pumps catch your eye. But you're WRONG. This is different. It's special.


The reason that I can't simply relocate my relationship is simple; as I've learned in the past few weeks, the streets of upstate New York will be covered in some form of ice, snow, or dirty sludge until probably July. And while I'm not above wearing fancy clothes in the apartment (I've coded and done research in a black cocktail dress, not going to lie), I'm at a point in my life where I'm not interested in hiding my relationship from the world. Nor do I want to be the girl who ends up in traction because she wore stilettos to the bar and slipped on ice en route (although if I look good in the emergency room, then I'm kind of a little OK with that). I mean, please look at what the weather has done to my favorite jeans. Mangled.


I have been SO GOOD about cutting back on the heels lately, ever since I came to the realization this summer that "hey, lady...maybe you don't need to be 8 feet tall." And these babies put me in the upwards of 6'2 range. And it's NOT BECAUSE OF BOYS. Entirely. Look, I don't think I'm a traitor to my gender or statuesque women around the world just because I recognize that it's a distinct possibility that some guys don't want to date women who are a foot taller than them. And that's fine. Different strokes. It took me years and years to be cool with the idea of dating a guy my height or shorter. And I don't NEED to wear heels all the time-in truth, I think I overdid it with the espadrilles this summer. But OCCASIONALLY, I want to wear ridiculously impractical (and, let's face it, dangerous) shoes, and I will never be with a man who can not accept that (or who is not willing to go get the car for those times when the ridiculously impractical and dangerous shoes render me immobile and unable to walk across a parking lot).

Also...can you please notice the red DSW tag on the bottom of the shoe (also, note my makeshift makeup table that I have commandeered in my parents' basement over break):
Because they were 70% off of the sale price. Eighteen dollars, friends. It would have been foolish NOT to purchase them*.

*Please remind me of this when I am an 80 year old woman, hobbling around on knees without cartilage and non-functioning Achilles tendons.

I'm Only Sleeping

I'm WAY too busy to be doing this, but who am I to spit in the face of great blogging traditions?

John Lennon
October 9, 1940 – December, 8 1980

"On a cold December evening
I was walking through the Christmas tide

When a stranger came up and asked me
If I'd heard John Lennon had died

And the two of us went to this bar
And we stayed to close the place

And every song we played
Was for The Late Great Johnny Ace, yeah, yeah, yeah"

"Well he's still alive. He's still with us. His spirit will go on you know.

"You can't kill a person that easy.

"That's the way I feel about it."

-Yoko Ono