Wednesday, May 30, 2012


I think I will be taking a break from this blog for awhile to focus on my new, more interesting-to-me blog. 
You can view that blog here:

Sorry i'm not sorry.

Monday, May 28, 2012

Please look at that link and blog. 
I spent this whole weekend looking at it.
It's so funny and has so many moments that have you saying 'THIS IS MY LIFE'

Thursday, May 24, 2012

TV Problems

I don't have a TV guide on my room TV. And I only know a few channels so I constantly switch to them as background noise while I do nail party, magazine reading, napping, etc. As a consequence, I end up with some very bizarre, horrible TV shows that catch my attention.

1. My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding. This is a super strange show about American gypsies. Except they call themselves Rommy (romney, romani? I can't understand them) gypsies. From what I understand, some of them live in trailers that drive around and work as construction workers 'because Rommy gypsies don't work for nobody. We got too much pride.' Except isn't every job technically working for somebody? I mean, even the president supposedly works for the country. Bad example. The other gypsies just live in homes like regular people. Except they all get married when they are 17 years old. How is this legal? This is still America, do gypsies not have to care about american laws? Or else they 'run off' when they are younger, which I gather is basically running away with their boyfriend, never to be seen again. Where do they go? How do they live? The super strange thing is that they just like meet a boy once in a different town, then decide to marry them. Like they don't even know them. Not even a little bit. And no one's parents think that it's strange at all. The girls are not allowed to hold hands or hug or kiss any boys at all before they are married and none of them understand what sex is or how babies come to be. All the moms laugh about their daughters 'going in blind' and how 'surprised they are going to be on their wedding night'. I'm sorry, but WTF. It is just so strange you cannot stop watching. Here are some of my favorite things about this show from the two episodes I have now seen:
1. Rarely do any of these people have all their teeth. Not only are they missing teeth, they are missing teeth in the front part where you can obviously see that they are missing teeth.
2. The kiss at the altar is so awkward it makes you cringe. Cringing this hard is a good muscle workout, so it makes me feel better about not going to the gym.
3. They gypsies are OBSESSED with sparkles. Even the boy gypsies talk about how the girls need to wear all the sparkles or else 'they don't look good' and no one will be jealous. It is a main thing in gypsy culture to make the other gypsies jealous. I know this because they all repeat this frequently. How to impress the others is by ordering these psychotic dresses. Like, lits, psychotic. One dress, skirt was so big around, she couldn't fit out of her house, into her car, or down the aisle. Instead of rolling their eyes or making fun of their bride, the guys are all super excited about how jealous everyone is going to be and hurries up to push all the pews over. EVERY single dress on this show, which is all about parties and weddings, is completely and totally covered with sparkles. They are constantly saying how many thousands of sparkles (we call them rhinestones) are on these dresses. As if that doesn't sound tacky enough, every dress is red. or magenta. or pink. With a lits six foot train. Because nothing is classier than a seventy five pound hot pink, rhinestone covered wedding dress. This, people, is why regular Americans don't let seventeen year olds get married.

2. The other show is this wedding show about the girl from The Housewives of Atlanta. The only white one. I forget her name  because this is the only episode i've seen and I don't watch the Atlanta show, but I want this lady's life. She's like kind of old and has huge fake boobs and always wears wigs. I don't know why she wears wigs because she seems to have a lot of blonde hair attached to her head. She is marrying some super young football player who is totally obsessed with her. This show is teaching me all the benefits of marrying a  football player: 1. They are young. 2. They are in great shape. 3. They are busy so they don't care what you do and that you are spending all their money doing it. 4. They will take care of your kids if you don't feel like it. 5. He will bring you wine if you are having a conversation with anyone else. The girl herself is super tacky. She is renting porta potties for her wedding because she doesn't want people "pissing all over my floors." WHAT kind of friends do you have that pee on your floor? And at your wedding? It would be more classy to have signs saying 'Please do not piss on the floors.' than to have porta potties at the wedding. Her wig guy is a black gayby who wears leggings and high heels at the same time and is super sassy and when she gets out of line, he just bails on her to go shopping. She wears flannel shirts unbuttoned below her boobs. They don't even fit into her shirt. She also has her wedding dress at the cleaners. Why is it dirty? Why is she so concerned that it be clean? Her mom also has skeletor arms like madonna. Super sick.
I just locked myself out of this blog. I don't know what happened but for like ten minutes there, there was lits no way possible to log in to this thing. ::Sigh of relief:: I figured it out somehow.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Thoughts about sleeping

All my life I have been a sleeper. Naps, sleeping in...those are my things. I just must be one of those people who are generally a lot more tired than other people. So much so that when I was little, my mom was actually worried about me and I was tested for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Which thankfully turned out to be negative, because in college, we covered that in one of my psych classes and man, I don't know how those people live their lives. I even used to talk,walk and carry on conversations with awake people, all in my sleep. Kind of like a creepy zombie. Except, you know, more cute and less dead.

I used to be a heavy sleeper. I could sleep through talking, earthquakes, movies, loud music. And I used to take naps upon naps. In fact, almost my entire senior year of high school, I would leave the class I had right after lunch to 'go to the nurse's' and really go to my car and take a nap before work. [I still got an A in that class, by the way.] I could come home and sleep for hours without it having any real effect on my nighttime sleeping schedule.

But then in college, a lot happened. A big, messy disaster and I suddenly couldn't sleep at all. This was even more awful because it was during a time when all I wanted to do was sleep, to escape and not have to think about or deal with the disaster that was my life. I was eventually prescribed sleeping pills, many different kids, each with various results. Like the one time my doctor put me on Ambien and I would wake up in entirely different outfits than I went to sleep in, eventually finding the clothes I was  wearing under my mattress a week later. Or the time I was allergic to one of the prescriptions. Or the time other ones had the opposite effect and I was as wide awake as an owl on redbull. Eventually, I found one I could work with that didn't leave me feeling groggy or leading a double life in my pharmacalogically induced sleep. And took it for a year and a half.

Ever since that time in my life, I don't nap. Like, really, almost never. Unless, I have been out super late and partying and not getting enough sleep and building up sleep debt. [Sleep debt is a real thing, look it up, people] And even then, I still have a hard time napping. And the most annoying thing, is that I have become a very light sleeper. If a light is turned on, if a TV or radio is on even the teensiest bit, if a dog barks, if my door is opened, if someone tries talking to me, if my phone goes off, I WILL wake up. And I will have a real tough time getting back to sleep. Because of this, because I am  such a light sleeper, I feel like I don't ever get into a really deep sleep. [Unless I'm super, crazy exhausted and tired.] And so I often wake up not feeling very rested. 

...And none of the above things were really necessary for the main point of this post, as usual my rambling has taken over. The main point of this post is that I set six alarms every morning. Is this normal? I can't be the only one who does this, right? I just cannot wake up all at once on the first try. I set my alarms for 6, 7, 8, 839, 9, 915. Sometimes I switch 915 for 730 if I feel like doing my hair in the morning. Sadly, that is not often. I feel  like waking up in stages helps my body adjust to the idea of eventually waking, and getting, up. However, I fully recognize that it could just be stressing my body and brain out, saying sleep, NO WAKE UP, just kidding sleep, WAKE UPPPP, more get it. Could really be doing the opposite of what I want. But it's a system that so far works for me. 

And now, to my main point..This creates super weird dreams. I don't often dream but when I do, I have very very realistic seeming dreams. Sometimes they are super realistic real life happening things that I don't remember but get planted in my subconscious and then I think they really happened. Things like conversations with people I know or running errands that I haven't actually run in real life. My brain just thinks they've happened, even though later on, I realize it must have been a dream. I think it's because I sleep so lightly that I am having what they call 'lucid dreams.' But I am really no expert on dreams, so what the f*&% do I know. Those ones kind of make me feel like I'm going crazy though.  

But the past two days, I have had WEIRD dreams. Like in one  I was trying to get into this music festival but couldn't when all of a sudden someone puts their arm around me and it turns out to be MADONNA! And she takes me on stage and tells me to just be her backup dancer and it is just us performing on the stage. Like I just know the choreography sometime and there happen to not be any other dancers. And then after its over, she's just like, okay go enjoy the show, bye. ...And another dream, where I was in my old teacher, Mr. Trevino's class but it was somehow kind of like in college and there was a big dance coming up called the Welcome/Hello dance. And he decided he was going to choose who we went with and handed us all out cards with the persons name and picture and mine was like some kid who was really pale and video-gamerly and I was like uhhh a. I don't go to dances and b. who the heck is this person, I have never seen them before and I don't want to meet them. So then I just went to the dance but I snuck in through the roof and just sat in the rafters and watched and then went back to my dorm which was filled with a bunch of big black  gangster rapper guys smoking cigars on the patio around one of those glass patio tables and playing cards but they totally let me hang out with them. Even though it was actually my dorm anyway, and my patio. And I have had many other strange ones, but my mother says no one care about hearing your dreams unless you are in them and I also read somewhere that no one wants to hear your dreams unless they are about sex. So a. you are probably bored and/or skipped this last paragraph and b. the rest of the dreams I can remember don't involve you or sex. 

So, you know, sorry.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Nail Party.

This is supposedly the new thing, to paint that one finger a different color. I even saw Renee on mobwives doing it last night. The light pink color is OPI's Heartthrob and the sparkly pink is Wet'n'Wild 435G Sparked.  Pink and glitter, enough said.

Are these not the cutest little toes? They belong to the cutest little beebs I know, who has currently learned to hoist herself up with objects to the standing position. Her new favorite thing to do is use the glass door to stand and then bang on the glass and scream gibberish like an animal at the zoo, demanding to get out. I. love. it.


Yesterday I bought an iPhone [I know, I know, welcome to the twenty-first century already.] Holy
cow, are they an expensive little phone. I am now afraid of my phone. I have some kind of high tech
insurance plan (I think) but I am living in mortal fear of dropping the thing. I also am not super technological, so I am having a hard time operating it easily. And then there's Siri.

I'm a little afraid of Siri. I also keep accidentally calling her Suri, like Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise's daughter. Siri is kind of sassy. And she confuses me. Like last night when I was trying to set my alarm and we were not communicating with each other clearly and then this morning seven different alarms went off. I don't understand how she works and can answer all the questions she can and it scares me. I am afraid of making her mad and asking her the wrong question, because she gets snippy and what if she gets mad at me because my mom made me ask her kind of inappropriate questions and messes with all my information in my phone. What if she calls Tokyo and I get a phone bill for eight hundred dollars. She is a robot and is not to be trusted.

To sum it up, I'm a super sellout and am now super afraid of my cell phone. This is my life.

Yelp Addiction

I am kind of a hate or love it person. I try to soften this a little by using the words 'kind of' a lot [see
previous sentence.] My mother also does not know how to cook very many things. So we eat out a
lot. So we are at restaurants a lot. And lately, the service everywhere has been just terrible! While I
don't really complain too much about food, because I usually won't go anywhere that I don't know
the menu of before I go, I do have problems with awful service. I am (well, my family is) not only
paying for this food and to sit here, but we are also paying YOU to be nice to us and pay attention
to us and to take care of us. We are literally give you money to put in your pocket at the end of the
night. And it has been really frustrating for me, because I am too polite to say 'hey, do your job' to
someone's face.

But today, I signed up for yelp. is a website where you can find reviews on basically any
place. Also, info like hours and price and other things. Users post about their experiences. So today,
I went on a reviewing spree. I reviewed some places that I just LOVE, like the sugar-free bakery in Lake Forest and the shockingly cheap but amazing nail place in Laguna Niguel. I also reviewed
places that I wish would get their act together, like the Buffalo Wild Wings in Lake Forest, where the hostess told us to find our own seats in the bar 'because the tables in the dining room are, like, really messy,' even though we had kids with us and it was dinnertime. I definitely found myself reviewing more of the places I love, because great quality and great service is a bit of a rare combination these days and it deserves recognition. And I can't
help hoping that my negative reviews will spur the places where customer service is awful to shape up a little bit.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012


You should only be with someone who tells you they are crazy about you. Those are the exact words they need to use.

 When a guy says you should embrace your natural hair color, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about and you should keep going to the salon. 

People who say they like all music except for country, have clearly just not listened to the right country songs. 

Monday, April 9, 2012


One of my jobs [that is sadly coming to an end, more on that later] is art teacher for elementary school kids. While they are not yet the Picasso's of the modern day world, they are pretty stinkin' creative. After they finish their projects, I let them have time to free draw because I always think it's interesting to see what they come up with when left to their own imaginations. Here is an example from one of my  five year olds:

Obviously proof that I'm a super great art teacher, amiright? This is a clam. While clams may not be a popular subject in art, someone has got to draw them, right? I was just happy she was thinking outside the box of puppies and hearts to the deep and mysterious world of shellfish.


foodporn [noun]: really super delish sounding and/or looking food. 

[If you look up the real definition of foodporn, it is a convoluted thing about making food so seductive it replaces sex. That is creepy and weird and also not how I mean it. #foodporn will be my feature on the super delish things we bake up in my kitchen.]

Let's start out with something easy for our first timers.
Chocolate Chip Waffle Cookies

Necessary Ingredients:
-Box of Chocolate Chip Cookie Mix
-Waffle Iron

-Mix up cookie mix according to directions
-Pour some into waffle maker
-Close waffle maker let cook for one to two minutes.

The time you let cook depends on your individual waffle maker. The first batch we made we decided were a little soft. So we left them in for two minutes which gave them a nice golden outside.

The texture of these really changes up plain old chocolate chip cooks. And they look super f*#(ing adorable so you can take pictures of them and everyone thinks you're Julia Child/Rachael Ray/Martha Stewart the second.

Is it necessary to have this many chapsticks within reach?

The answer is always yes.

[side note: As you can see above, I have a large collection of the Maybelline Baby Lips. They make your lips feel like buttaaa. And look like they would be lipstick but go on really, really sheer, and are just a tiny hint of color. Plus they smell AMAZE. This is only a fraction of the lip makeup collection I possess, so if you need any recommendations, I'm your girl. Also hot pink is totally in for lipsticks, according to every magazine. For once, I am actually ahead of a trend, instead of miles and miles behind. This never happens.]

The Missing Link

I have decided I know what this blog is missing. And that is: pictures! [And less rambling, but I will work on that later.] What good is a blog without pictures, everyone has been asking me? [No one has been asking me this out loud, but I know they are thinking it.] None! Introducing....drumroll please...NNaX! Now With More Pictures!

So good. I should go into advertising.

To kick things off, here is a picture of a few of my favorite things:

1. Number one favorite thing is Sugar Free Redbull. If my regular old life could be sponsored by Red Bull like all those pro athletes are, I would be golden. I mean, they need Red Bull energy to skate around on a piece of wood...I need Red Bull energy to make sure five children don't die when their parents aren't home. Pretty sure that's more important. Anyway, sugarfree only has ten calories and I have tried every energy drink everywhere and I just can't quit you, SFRB.

2. Another favorite thing is Real Simple. It is a magazine one might compare to Better Homes and Gardens, or maybe Martha Stewart Living. I have a secret housewife complex that drives me to read magazines like this [and grocery shop in five inch heels and bake and get super excited about a front row parking spot at Trader Joe's or the library.] I can't help it. It contains all the secrets of the universe that I will most likely almost definitely forget before I get myself into any situation in which these secrets may be applicable. My grandmother and I love this magazine.

3. Minnetonka softsole driving moccasins. Here is a mini history lesson, the reason Indians (native american kind) wore moccasins is because they didn't want to be barefoot all the time and step on bees that would sting their feet and because I think it was a lot hotter back then so probably the bottom of their feet was getting all burnt up. So they invented moccasins which didn't have real bottoms, like hard soles, to protect their feet. The reason they didn't just wear shoes or add on hard bottoms is because of how much they respect the earth and never wanted to stomp all over the flowers and grass and ruin them. Minnetonka still makes these moccasins [as well as hardsole ones if you want them] and while they are supposed to be for inside use, I wear mine all the time. I don't really care as much about stomping the ground to death as the Indians did, but I do love that story and I do love feeling like I'm not really wearing shoes, so these are one of my favorite things. Or I guess two of my favorite things, since shoes come in pairs.

4. The other favorite thing that you can't really see is: nature! I like to be outside, that might surprise some people. Especially on lovely days. I am a human, after all. This was the trail down in San Juan where I had some time just to sit and watch the horses and dogs go by and look at all the trees and plants and breathe fresh air.

Groupon, according to NNaX

[That's my self appointed acronym, if you didn't already guess.]

Groupon. By now, everyone who is everyone has heard of groupon and probably uses it. If you are no one, then you should know it is a website that gives you daily deals to stuff in your area. [Congratulations, you are now someone. You're welcome.] While I have never actually bought anything off groupon, I check it daily. Maybe it might be weird that I am writing this fan letter about it and have never actually purchased one. But... I know people who have. Because I make them. I should work for groupon; in fact, many people probably do think I work for groupon, judging by the amount of endorsements that come out of my mouth for it. It is divided into four main sections: Today's main daily deal, grouponNOW! deals, goods, and getaways.
       Once I saw a great groupon deal for a Vegas hotel. I knew my family, as well as a lot of other cheer families, needed to book a hotel for an upcoming cheer competition. I told everyone about it and presto, they booked a whole block of rooms. And then we went to vegas and stayed in them and our suite had a jacuzzi in the middle of the staircase.* And then on the last day I woke up to the sounds of someone hammering above me. And I went outside and there was a dude on the roof hammering things. At 8 a.m. Not cool. So when we got home, I complained to groupon and they gave me a 50 dollar gift card to groupon. I didn't even book the hotel under my credit card and they still gave me 50 bucks.
         Once my friend asked me a very important question that many working girls have to ask in these rough economic times: bikini wax or pedicure? What did I say? Groupon! On grouponNow deals, you can get super cheap beauty services if you go that day before a certain time. So she could totally get both. I know this because groupon once led me on an internet journey that led me to yelp which led me to this amazing nail place where you can get a spa pedicure AND manicure for 22 dollars and they never ask you questions like 'ohhh you sooo prettayy, why you no have boyfrenn?!?!' superloud in front of everyone.
         Some other super good deals I have found on here: roundtrip Catalina ferry tickets [30$], supercute mini donut maker [15$], tons of Newport boat rentals, Wine tasting in Laguna Beach with free bottle of wine to take home. They even have like plastic surgery type stuff.

*these are the things I packed to on said vegas trip. Just, you know, for reference.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Things I Apparently Cannot Tell The Difference Between

Cat/Badger/Possum.   See also Naked Mole Rat/Possum. See also Lost Puppy/Coyote.

Tonight on our way home from dinner, I said 'oh I wonder whose cat that is' as it disappeared  around the corner to my neighborhood. While thinking to myself, what a very mangy looking cat.

As we rounded the corner, I realized it may not be a cat, at which point I may or may not have started screaming 'BADGER! BADGER! I SEE A BADGER! THAT'S A BADGER!' to which I was asked 'what does a badger even look like?'

At which point I reconsidered and said 'oh that's right, we don't have badgers around here, POSSUM!!! IT'S A POSSUM!!! I KNOW IT'S A POSSUM BECAUSE ONE TRIED TO COME IN OUR HOUSE IN  NEW JERSEY THROUGH THE DOG DOOR!' While also thinking  that I have no idea what parts badgers are native to and that I may have made it up that we don't have them because I honestly don't know. I also may have thought, when said possum tried to come through the dog door in our New Jersey house, that  it was a naked mole rat. I may also, at that time, have started screaming 'MOLE RAT, A REAL LIVE NAKED MOLE RAT IN OUR HOUSE!!!!!!!'

I blame it on the fact that I'm supposed to wear my glasses at night but don't because I have conducted a very unscientific study that has led me to the conclusion that people don't pay as much attention/are not as nice and helpful to me when I wear my glasses,  as compared to when I DON'T wear my glasses.

I also use this theory to explain away the time that my friend and I, coming home one night, saw a really cute lost puppy that we tried to rescue and coax into our car until we realized that it was a coyote.

A super cute coyote, though.

Monday, March 19, 2012

“A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession.” 

— Albert Camus

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Things that are not so good.

Sometimes there are things that are just not so good. Lots of times there are things I think will not be good [like those kind of burritos with fritos inside] but then I try them and change my mind. But there are some actual things that I just don't like.

  • Wal-Mart. I really try to give this place a fair chance because they sell this kind of lip balm I have a small obsession with for like a dollar, but I just hate it there. It is crowded and people bang into you and everyone who goes here is so freaking weird and there is never any parking and I just feel all anxiousy and panicky when I try to venture inside.
  • Del Taco Shrimp Tacos. There is a lot of build up to shrimp time at Del Taco. Except it is actually not very good. But, I mean, I like shrimp. And even though I know I do not like the shrimp tacos or burritos there, every time I go I order it. It's like when I start ordering, my brain falls out and even though as I'm saying can I please have a shrimp taco I know it will not be good. I don't know what it is, they are just not very good.
  • The radio station 100.3. I have it programmed into my car even though I have never heard one good song that I wanted to listen to on it. Even when my haunted car mysteriously disprograms all the radio stations, I still reprogram it in even though I never, ever listen to it.
  • The giant new Forever 21 at the mall. I like Forever 21 and all but this place is too big. It's very overwhelming on my senses. I have not heard of one person who likes the new one. The music is so loud and you can't get any service. It is so big that you have to spend hours inside to look at things even if you are a superfast eyeball shopper like me and so the problem is you can't call anyone to say you will be late. Or where you will meet them. Every time I go with someone else, I lose them and don't find them for thirty minutes. It also is some kind of time machine where you go in at 3pm and leave and it's dark and you've missed dinner but it feels like you weren't even there that long. Also all the shoes are hiding out on super tall racks by the mannequins and not in the shoe section and I actually can't reach up to any of those places.
  • The new technology of new things. This is tricky because sometimes there is super good new technology. Such as when those one serving coffee makers came out. My parents bought me the Tassimo which was invented before the Keurig. At the time, it was like, It. Except now Kuerig is totally dominating the world and they barely make any Tassimo cups and you have to go to the ends of the earth like the Bed, Bath and Beyond down by the train tracks to even find any and then when you go, you find out that there is no more espresso things because they were exploding on people and burning their faces off, so there was a huge recall and now you have to go to Starbucks for espresso every single day. This is why it is better to wait out new technology and make sure it doesn't explode in your face and maim you. Also because buying two different hundred plus dollar coffee machines because you are too lazy to pour coffee into a filter is not super justifiable. 

bangin in my white tee

pretty sure that is from some gangster song.

Let's talk about these. You know how in movies girls can just throw on a tee from the guy's house they spent the night at so they don't have to wear the same outfit to work because of course they overslept and now are facing a possible walk of shame but worse because it's into your office? And how the shirt just fits and looks great and matches what they are wearing perfectly?

This is that shirt.

[Here's the thing though, you aren't going to find this in some dude's closet. Unless that dude is your little brother because otherwise they are going to be too big. Unless you are dating someone the same size as you and in that case, I'm sorry, how terrible for you. ]

The good news is they sell these things everywhere. And they come in three packs. Or five packs. I have tried a lot of tees in my life and these are pretty perfect. Also, super cheap. And they go with everything and the size smalls of the comfort something or other v-neck type are perfect. I know this because I convinced the lady at Target awhile back to let me open up all the bags and test the sizing and type. Also they have no tags, so there is nothing itching you on your neck. That drives me crazy.  They are also made of a super comfy material that is also kind of thinnish so it doesn't feel too boy-like of a material. Because I know they make some like that and I am not that into it. The only problem with these is the sleeves are kind of big-ish. Except I kind of like that because recently my mom told me I have no shoulders [seriously, so rude] and so I am trying to bulk up that area with some sleevage. 
The nice thing is they also come in different colors. Although I only have a hundred thousand white ones. Because they go with Jeans, skirts, shorts, swimsuits, pj's, I don't even know.

You can find them in the boy section of places.

movie review: Like Crazy

Where do I even start... I kind of felt like I have lived this movie. Except, you know, I'm not British, have never been married and have not yet been kicked out of the U.S. but watch this movie and you'll know what I mean. The film is about this super cute British girl, I already forget her name but she's like a foreign exchange student but like for all of college in LA. I don't really like British people or accents but she is just so cute for some reason it doesn't bother me. She kind of like seriously falls in love with her american TA from one of her classes. He falls in love back and then they have this super relatable, perfect at first, lovey love love kind of romance type thing and she wants to stay in bed and snuggle so much that she overstays her visa and gets kicked out of the country. Then they kind of break up a lot and get back together a lot and date other people in between because they are separated and they think they don't need each other maybe. At the end they kind of leave it open. I think they are like back together finally for reals but it's like probably not going to work or they will stay together even though they maybe shouldn't because so much has happened that they can't go back to how it was. The little moments of this movie, like one part where they show all these snapshots in quick succession of them sleeping through the whole summer, are super super super cute. And so are the things they say to each other. It's just like you feel the feelings they feel. Like real life. [Except in real life they probably wouldn't be together at the end.] But it isn't like really sad like 500 Days of Summer. This is the kind of movie you want to climb inside of. And that makes you fall in love with every person in it. Like the main guy isn't that cute but then all of the sudden you are kind of totally in love with him. I don't know how it happens. Plus the main girl wears all these long skirts and britishy type outfits that you can't really do if you're american but somehow she makes it work because she is english.

This might be my new favorite movie ever.
Like ever, ever.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012


So I have this thing for vintage samsonite suitcases. Well, maybe just vintage luggage in general. I recently picked up this Samsonite suitcase for fifteen dollars at this cute little vintage flea market in LA. Upon bringing it home, my entire family proceeded to make fun of me, saying how my grandparents used to have an avocado green one. [sidenote: They still have it. When I was living with them last year, I totally saw it. Another proof of great investment, they seem to last for-freaking-ever!] So I decided a little rehabbing was in order. Here is my step by step process:

This is the original inside. As you can see it was kind of coming apart and as you can't see so clearly, it was old as f*!k. Needed to come out, even though the white and yellow polka dot fabric was super cute.

All I did was rip it out. Surprisingly easy. Surprisingly dirty underneath. Wiped it out a bit because there was mysterious orange dust underneath, afraid it was some kind of asbestos drug powder trying to get all over my future packed things.

Was feeling lazy and also a little budgetey, so took two old pillowcases and kind of cut around the old fabric to size it. Used the two layers the pillowcase already had in it for extra padding. Glued it with a glue gun under the leftover yellow leather lining. Then I stamped the pillowcases with a cute little bird stamp and a black stamp-pad. [Advice, stamp the fabric BEFORE you glue it in, way easier and the stamps won't have to be restamped because they are at an awkward angle. I would also use a more satiny fabric next time.]
This is the original outside. Kind of water-stained and off white. 

Siding kind of worn out and dingy.

Just a side view, to show for comparison to finished product.

This is the after product! I used a primer [I just found one in my garage meant for wood, my dad kept telling me I HAD to get one for plastic or it wouldn't work, but again, lazy and budgety prevailed and it seemed to work fine. I put on a bunch of layers of primer all over. Then I used a kind of seafoamy green spray paint and sprayed it a bunch of times. I went through a whole can and this isn't a super huge suitcase. It needed a lot of layers. I'm glad I started with white, I can't imagine doing a dark one. You'd have to stay in the dark range, I'd imagine. Then I printed out this deer graphic that I've been kind of obsessed with for awhile and just cut it out really carefully. Then I took a paint roller and some gray acrylic and taped the paper and rolled over the cut-out part. Then I took a glitter spray paint in silver [glitter spray paint is AMAZE. new obsession, comes out so thick you don't even really need paint underneath and comes in a bunch of colors.. I kind of glitter sprayed a bunch of other things too.] Then I just took a D and an A stencil and did the same thing. [sidenote: When I showed this to my mom, she goes 'why does it say DAD?' I was like 'uhhh, those are my initials?  Remember how you chose my name?'] I taped newspaper over the other parts so I didn't accidentally get paint on the parts I didn't want paint on. Then I sprayed a sealer spray paint all over and did a bunch of coats.

The way I did the lining and siding is I used a lot of painter's tape [the blue kind.] This part is what took the longest. It is a pain to only tape the parts you want to not paint. I taped all the silver part when I was spray painting the green. Then removed and taped the green edges so as not to get the gray paint on the already green painted main part. [does that make sense?] I ran out of gray paint and  so I just mixed up a black and white acrylic and made a semi dark gray. I then painted almost all the silver siding as well as the previous white lining [see above 'before' picture] I didn't do the tabs. It took a couple coats because I didn't prime this area in the beginning like I probably should have. I then taped up with newspaper so no green was showing and also taped up the tabs. Then I spray painted the sides with the glitter spray as well. And then sprayed sealant over it.

This is just the other side. No initials on this side. Just simple.

I added those little square stickers for a little nod to vintage. I left the samsonite part and silver latches untouched by everything but sealant. 

I now LOVE this suitcase. I recently took a trip to Nebraska and I had absolutely no trouble locating my suitcase at baggage claim. I will definitely be keeping an eye out for more samsonite suitcases to rehab for myself or as gifts in the future. 

Let me know what you think!

Saturday, February 18, 2012


So it may surprise or not surprise you that I am kind of obsessed with books. Like so obsessed that I totally judge people with e-readers. I learned to read when I was like four and all my friends parents would show me off and be like, read the newspaper, child, and I would and they would all die and be jealous I wasn't their kid. Probably one of the reasons I'm still so annoying. But I read so fast that buying books is kind of a waste of money especially when that money could go towards shoes to read my books in. So I have rediscovered the library. [We actually had to switch libraries when I was a little kid because I read all the kids books there. That was at the OC library before it turned into some weird church/skatepark hybrid.]  Sooo anyway, I just finished reading ROOM by EMMA DONAHUGHE. [don't know if that's how you spell it, don't feel like googling her name.] I have this thing lately where I read the first two chapters, get anxiety and read the last six chapters or so  next. Then I work my way backwards through the book. [If I was going to use my psych degree on myself and really why not, I paid 30k for it (well, will be paying 30k for it when my student loans find out about my three jobs that barely pay my car payment and keep me in target wedges) I would say this is because I am trying to deal or not deal with a situation in my life that I can't control and don't know the ending to and I am afraid and it gives me bad anxiety and this is translating into my literary pursuits.] Anyway, enough about that, this is a book review.
      This book is about a little boy, Jack, and his mom who are locked in a room. The mom was kidnapped when she was in college and now they live in a shack and the guy who kidnapped her kind of like you know rapes her and so she has this little boy who has never been outside and doesn't know what real life is. Or what people are or what outside is. You kind of like them when they are in the room but then they escape  [I won't give you details and ruin it for you] and then they have to deal with things like rain and real life. The mom has to readjust to real life and the kid is totally overwhelmed by everything like shoes and sun and having to wear a mask because he's never been exposed to diseases. It doesn't really go so well. The kid is like totally obsessed with his mom because they did everything together in the room like taking baths and sleeping together. But it's like, why? That kid is six. He's way too old for to be taking naked baths with your naked mom for no reason. It just seems inappropriate. Which brings me to my next issue with this book: breastfeeding. The mom still breastfeeds Jack. Even though he is six. They have food, they have drinks. There is no actual reason for it. And it just makes me uncomfortable. It reminds me of that british lady on the news awhile back who was like breastfeeding her seven year old and everyone was like ABUSE! Like I don't know about calling it abuse but it is definitely super weird and gross and inappropriate. If your child can talk, it shouldn't be breastfeeding. I get it's like natural and old as the times and everything but I will never do it. It just grosses me out and makes me uncomfortable. I get there are supposedly super benefits but like put it in a bottle. That probably is a real big clue I'm not ready for kids myself, but usually when I make up my mind about something, it's done. Sorry future baby, bottles for life. Hope you don't turn out to be a slow, underachieving stoner or a scary kid who shoots up his high school like that psycho in We Need to Talk about Kevin [coincidentally will be my next book/movie review].

I know you can't wait.

Monday, February 13, 2012

forty-five minutes later.

and I just spent the better part of an hour making handmade valentine's for my family and my nanny fam and I am totally fine with v-day again. THIS is why I work so well with kids [most of the time].. because I hate something one minute and a half hour later I can't even remember it.

i can't decide

whether it's more or less depressing being around so many kids at valentine's day time. They get super excited about it, like it's totally the funnest day ever. and it's really hard not to say, enjoy the next five years of this day because right now you're v-day peaking, guys. When you grow up, everyone doesn't give you candy. Everyone doesn't give you heart shaped cards. If you're 'lucky' and you have a boyfriend, hopefully he made you a super romantic card with a picture of a bong on it.' If you're super lucky, when you grow up, you only get a treatable STD from your cheater, loser boyfriend for valentine's and not terminal AIDs. Or you're married and your husband works, or ignores the holiday, or gets you the standard, overplayed dozen red roses and you realize you're going to have to do this disappointing thing every single year until you're dead. I think it comes in waves and depends where you are at that year. Last year, I made all my students tattoo valentine's and gave them heart erasers to use in class [big deal when you're 5]. I got super into it, even though I was not seeing anyone at the time. This year, everything lovey and valentiney is just annoying me. I know I am hardly the first or last to complain about this, I just think even if you are happily in a relationship, because I've been there, valentine's [and holidays in general] are never as exciting as when you were a little kid. Real life gets in there and adds and adds as you grow up and it's just a little depressing sometimes. All the happiest times are from when you can't really remember too good.

**I know there are people who always have happy v-days and have thoughtful, rememberey type significant others who know exactly what you need and love, but let's face it, that is about 1.5% of the population and it's never equal and I also just don't want to hear about it. I'm sure there are even some nice single ones but they are probably on or hiding out in bomb shelters from psychos like me and as much as my mom and bosses tell me it could be a good idea, I just can't go there yet. I'd rather be one of those crazy ladies who live alone with their extra bedroom and oven filled with shoes and has some kind of weird animal thing.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Fun Suckers.

Let me take a minute to do some more complaining. [Complaining and day drinking; both hobbies I enjoy.]
School used to be so fun when I was a little kid. I was a pretty shy, chubby kid who wore a lot of leggings with oversize shirts that used to have these round circle things with a piece in the middle that you could put the corner of your shirt through to kind of cinch much fash, but it was the early nineties, cut me some slack. I also cut my hair super super short and on a sort of chubby little shy girl, that is not really the look that gets you places in life. But I digress.. Valentine's day used to be so fun when I was a kid..we got to spend time not doing math and making valentine's mailboxes for which everyone would put on their desk on v-day and get all their valentines dropped into. You were supposed to send one to everyone, but everyone knew you gave the biggest and best to the kids you liked the most and the boy you had a crush on. Sometimes you taped on extra candy.

...Now candy is the devil. You aren't even allowed to bring food product into school. And god forbid you ate a peanut in the last week, you're gonna need a HAZ-mat suit. You can tape an eraser to your valentines or nothing, basically. What kid wants an eraser for a holiday. Let me tell you, not many. This is Orange County, land of excess, where my kindergartners get ipad's for christmas [don't get me started on this]. An eraser is not going to impress anyone, sorry I'm not sorry for letting you know. If I was a mom, I'd be recommending temporary tattoo valentine's, it's the next best thing to candy. You also are given a list and DIRECTED that you must send one for each kid in the class even if one of them tries to dunk your child in a toilet or makes fun of them when their grandpa dies or steals all their pencils and shit. I know those kids. I have them in my classes. They don't deserve a tattoo valentine. They don't even deserve an eraser one. They deserve an empty mailbox or even better, a note from the mother saying 'I don't care if you're six, stop being such an asshole or I'll come to your house and beat up your mom.'  I personally feel that this everyone is equal and deserves equal everything sends the wrong message. It says hey kid, you can be a total douche your whole life and everyone will still give you a valentine because they have to. So don't ever change because you have no reason to. There is no incentive there.

This post just got way longer. It was originally intended to be about how I am an awesome baker and have learned how to make really cute cake pops and package them better than starbucks and I am not allowed to bring them to my students and make them like me and have their moms be jealous of me when they bring them home because of all these stupid newfangled rules that make it so I will get sued if someone's kid drops dead because two months ago I dropped a peanut on my counter and now their kid inhaled the .000000001 millisomething of peanut dust. Lawsuits are annoying and I know some people who sue people for everything even though really it's like come on, you've got to be kidding. Stop being such a douche. No one likes someone who sues people for every little thing. It makes them not want to be around you, because what if you read this and sued me for slander even though this is actually true because I watch you sue everyone. [Anyone who watched Real Housewives of Beverly Hills knows this is actually plausible.]

Falling out of love.

Today I realized I may be falling out of love with my art teacher job. I used to think it was 'the most funnest day[s] of the week" to quote some of my old students. But lately I have been dreading my days at school. It has just lost the shiny new appeal of something fun and different. All the quirks of my more boisterous students I used to think were cute and funny are now just disruptive and headache inducing and a little annoying. [I think there is a parallel here to the very short term sort-of relationships I get myself in and out of, but that's a story for another blog.] If I were to headshrink myself here [the only time my psych degree comes in handy and self-analyzing myself is hardly productive or a smart decision because I am not exactly objective about myself], I would say that this is why I have (and have had) SO MANY FREAKING jobs. I get bored easily. Things lose their appeal. I don't like commitments that don't have a sustainable future. I dislike things and try to squirm out of things once I realize they will lead to nowhere or are dead-ends. I don't know if it's that I've finally reached a year in this job and subconsciously I feel like I've reached some expiration date. But today when my student [ref: earlier 'she's baaaack' post, it's the same kid I'm talking about] said the following things "are you wearing makeup, like black on your eyes, it's really scary..why do you have a tattoo, it's really ummmm ummmm... i don't like you...' and called me Mrs. S about seven times even though it says Miss D on the board and everyone else calls me by the right name, I just wanted to send her to the principal and kick her out of my class for good. This is a six year old I'm talking about. I can't believe I found myself wishing I never had to see her again. That is like teacher blasphemy. Maybe it's because, despite the fact that she says mean things to me in front of everyone, as well as to other students like 'you don't even have a dad' and 'your picture is ugly' and actually spends more time out of her seat than in it and when I turn my back is going through my stuff and on my phone and writing on the board, I know that when I talk to my boss, she's just going to give me 'helpful' suggestions that I've already tried and don't work. And nothing really to actually help me. My boss is the nicest lady possible. She loves kids and she loves and believes in her company, but she isn't in the classroom anymore. She can say all she wants but she isn't there when you are at your wits end and  every kid in the class is frustrated because they can't pay attention or hear or see because of one or two psychotically disruptive kids and it's the first day and you know your students are going home and saying 'I hate art class, don't make me go back' to their parents. The lesson here is that kids [and potential love interests, random, but also on my mind] don't always do what you want. And don't listen and don't behave as you feel they should, and according to my mom, I am such a 'rigid' person that I can't adapt to things that fall out of the lines of what I think is right or proper. But to me, these things aren't so crazy to expect. People should control themselves. Even kids should be nice to one another. Sit in your chair means sit in your chair. Don't say inappropriate things means I know you know what is appropriate and what's not and I know you are saying these things to test me and I'm tired of it.  When all you want is go somewhere else and get away from them because one bad one has ruined all the rest for you. [eerily parallel again, to my 'love' life or lack thereof]. And I think that is how you fall out of love.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012


Today I worked all three jobs, nine a.m. to nine p.m.
This was capped off by my oldest nannybaby telling me that she is trying to lose weight. She's been trying to eat less and measuring out her food but she says the serving sizes are so small. She told me she thinks she's flabby and has fat thighs. Let me just tell you, she doesn't need to lose weight. She's totally normal size, perfect size for her height. Also, she's twelve. As someone who has always struggled with the concept of weight and my own body issues, I know how terrible (and I'm sure all of you do too!) it is to not feel happy with your body. But at twelve years old, it just makes me sad that kids feel like they have to start dieting, especially when they are at a healthy, good, normal weight.

What do you think is the right age to start worrying about this stuff?

Monday, January 23, 2012


At one of my jobs (there are so many, I can get away with disclosing this and not outing anyone), someone caught the MRSA Staph bug. This is a little hush-hush, because as I have been coming to realize, people act like MRSA is AIDS or something! It's like, so shameful. Except, you know, it's not like you get it on purpose. And you can get it from just being around sick people in the hospital or at the doctor's. It's not contracted by doing shady, taboo things (at least in all the cases of people I know who have had it.) I don't get it. I do understand it's a big deal and many kids and people have died from certain MRSA infections, but let's arm ourselves with knowledge and deal with it in a mature, safe way. I just don't get the stigma and kind of shush-let's not tell anyone secretiveness. I know staph itself is pretty common, so chances are we all know people who've had it.

So, tell me, what are your thoughts on MRSA, Staph and all the drama surrounding it?



-One of my more precocious first-graders lamenting the fact that elementary school menus have changed.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Where is this hiding?!

She's Baaaaaaaaack..

Today marked the return of one of my more, um, colorful students, N. I've had her in my art class before, but not since last school year. Let's also add that we are almost done with the sessions, only two classes left. She was a kinder last year and so this year she's in first grade. This apparently has had no effect on her whatsoever. My classroom is on the way to the classrooms where 'The Y" [or the YMCA afterschool program is held). She basically saw me, decided to drop on in for class instead of going to the Y. Nevermind that she isn't signed up for art this trimester. Or that she's supposed to legally be at the Y and they were probably wondering where exactly she was. Or that her older sister popped in to ask if she was signed up and while I was saying no, N was saying yes.
      Last year, she somehow got it out to all the parents of the kids in my class that not only was I married, I was was RECENTLY married. Recently married to her YMCA counselor. Let me give you an idea of this guy: 50's, balding with a bit of white hair left, very flamboyantly gay. So my type...not. So I had all my students' parents coming up to congratulate me and I'm sure get the inside gossip on this relationship because if ever two people didn't go together, it was me and this old guy. I spent weeks explaining.
      So when she walks in today, she throws her backpack on the ground, grabs a whiteboard marker and attempts to hostile takeover the class. After I settled that, she sat down. Except this kid doesn't actually sit. She stands, as if there was no chair whatsoever. I've never actually seen her sit down. Among the things she said today: "Can I see your bra?" [to the 3rd grader next to her], "braces always work, that's the point of them", "umm can you stop that, annnnnnnnnoying" and "can i just be done, i want to go to the Y now". She also colored her entire project orange today. After she colored it all in with different colors, she took orange and recolored the entire thing.
      She also can't ever remember my name, despite the fact that it is written on the board. She regularly calls me 'Mrs. what's your name again'.

Nanny's Best Friend

Monday, January 16, 2012

Things My Nannybabies Will Eat.

For the sake of this blog, the children I nanny will be  collectively referred to as my nannybabies. They are not all really babies; there is actually only one baby, a six month old, a four year old, an eight year old, an eleven year old and a twelve year  old. Codename Nannybabies is good because their dad is a big bossypants and I don't want to get sued.  They will go by their ages. (example: nannybaby .5 is the youngest beebs, nb12 is the oldest, get it?)
     When I first started with this brood, there were only two, nb's 11 and 12. They would only eat olives.

 ...I'm not kidding. All they liked to eat was olives and they literally would eat a whole jar if you didn't supervise them closely. Guess who found that out the hard way.

Now they are grown up preteens and have a much more refined palates. However, nannybaby4 presents similarly difficult challenges. In no particular order these are the things she will eat:

  • Cut up raw red bell peppers
  • scrambled eggs
  •  strawberrie
  • , string cheese dipped in strawberry yogurt but not the actual yogurt by itself
  •  SHELL macaroni and cheese. If it is any other shape of mac, or any other shape is mixed in with the shells, she will not eat it. 
  • She 'used to like chicken nuggets, but not anymore.'  
  • Also her new thing is glazed donuts. She's super down for gazed donuts. 
But any of the above foods listed she will only eat two bites of. Eating  three things at once 'makes my[her] stomach hurt." The three things includes water.  Somedays she likes oranges. But only cuties. I once saw her eat seven cuties in one day. That's like her entire body weight in tiny oranges.

Once I tried to make her eat a chicken nugget. Her mom seemed really serious about getting her to eat at least three and then left the house. I got her to chew one, during which she asked to go to the bathroom.  Now, this  nannybaby neverrrr, and I mean never, goes to the bathroom by herself so I knew something was up. She came back and lunchtime was forgotten. Later on I went to the bathroom and noticed spit up chicken nugget in the sink. Verrrrrrry smooth. [Later, I turned this to my advantage when I told her I was an elf hired by Santa to make sure she was nice. When she asked me to  prove it, I told her that Santa told me she once spit her chicken nuggets into the sink. The look of shock on that kid's face. Hook, line and sinker.]

Tuesday, January 10, 2012


Sometimes I find myself wondering when I hired a five year old as my life coach.

Although I said I would share the undoing of my retail career next, I have decided to save that for another day. So we will move on to another job I have, part time art teacher [more on this later].

A more pressing topic is, just when did five and six year olds get so sassy?! I have a little first grader, I say little because she is supposed to be in kindergarten but they moved her up to first grade..I suspect this is not as much to do with her level of intelligence as much as her advanced social skills and sage wisdom. I'm surprised they didn't just make her a teacher. She has a very Buddhist take on life; if she doesn't feel like coming to art class, she just walks right on by and goes to the YMCA early. Except, you know, her parents pay for art class and expect her to show up there. And being in the wrong place at the wrong time could turn into a legal nightmare for the school and the district. But that doesn't faze her, not at all. On the occasions she decides to grace us with her presence, when the art gods must have spoken with her, she is full of advice for me:
BuddhaBaby: Hey Douglas! You got a boyfriend?
Me: You can't call me Douglas. You can call me Miss D or Miss Douglas, not..just Douglas. And no.
BuddhaBaby: (completely ignores the first part of what i've said) A husband?
Me: No.
BuddhaBaby: Don't you think it's time?  I mean how old are you?
Me: 23.
BuddhaBaby: DOUGLAS (i start to injerject) I MEAN, MISS D, YOU  NEED A MAAAAN!
Me: It's not that easy.
::Rest of the class chimes in with the stories of how their parents, too, were married by my age.::

Fast forward to the end of class, where BuddhaBaby's mom is late picking her up, so it's just me and her.
BuddhaBaby: But seriously, Miss D, like you need to find a boyfriend, or at least a husband. You should have one by next class so we can meet him.
Me: It's just not that simple. It's not that easy to meet the person you will marry. Where do you suggest I find this person?
BuddhaBaby: The ophthalmologist's office. You know, the eye doctor's.
Me: Hmmm.
BuddhaBaby: Oh, there's my mom, she's an opthalmaologist, bye!

mystery solved.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Why Retail May Not Be the Industry For Me

My family keeps asking me how I end up working for such lunatics. I have no real answer except that possibly the reason it was so easy for me to get those jobs is because they are always hiring because nobody wants to work there. Here are some examples from previous years:

  • Small, beachside boutique. Things are going along swimmingly the very unadjusted-to-America Brazilian store owner until one day she comes in with cameras so she can stay home and talk to me through them. That's right, the cameras not only picked up video and audio in REAL TIME, she could also talk to me through them form her house. Might not sound so weird, but imagine an invisible someone watching you every second of your day and randomly piping in with comments. Super uncomfortable.
  • Yeah, Baby store. I worked at a little jewelry store which was next door to an empty store. My manager offered me to the guy renting the store to help set up and work in my off hours. Except, you know, the guy next door was totally nuts. He would leave me with a tagging gun and boxes of clothes and the instructions to 'just make up prices, whatever you think is fair.' He let people write checks. Except you know, he didn't have a bank account. He also was mysteriously unable to get one. I asked him what the store was called, so people could write checks to the store and he said '..uhhh, yeah, baby.' Still not clear if that was what he meant the store was called or what planet he was on. A few times he told me his name was Harold. Except previously he had told me and everyone else his name was Howard. A few months later, after I had left, he texted me saying 'hey man, i'm in croatia, doing medic stuff.' The weirdest guy.
  • An art gallery/gift shop that shall remain nameless, because the owner is a crazy person and I wouldn't put it past her to sue me. She had been in a terrible boating accident that left her paralyzed, which is actually really very tragic. Except that she seemed to think I was capable of superhuman tasks myself. She once told me to go a few blocks away and bring her sandbags. Except that they weigh as much as I do...each.  So, you know, that wasn't really going to work  [Luckily there was an NBC newsvan nearby and I somehow sweet-talked the driver into picking up a bunch and driving them over.]. I worked there during a huge flood and she made us bring in hair dryers, supposedly to dry the four feet of water in the store. She also made me give a psychopathic customer my number. [scenario: man comes in to look at 400+ solar globes, pretends he is french and cannot speak english, i call him out on this in french and then explain in english that i took four years of french and wasn't born yesterday. my boss comes over and tells me i need to agree to go out with him and gives him my number. he then proceeds to tell me he is actually homeless right now but loves younger women. He is at least fifty.] She also billed her gallery as 'one of a kind, made in america, local pieces.' Except everything came from China..I know this because I was the one who was made to peel off all the 'made in china' stickers. 
And that brings us to my latest retail position, that story's up next!

Allow Me To [re]Introduce Myself

That's a Jay-Z  song, in case, you know, you're a martian and didn't recognize. Anyyway, welcome to my [new]blog, the first blog in which I actually write my posts. [My other blog is mostly pictures, art and pop culture references.] But some people, including a Miss C Leah, have been peer pressuring me to start a real blog and so here we are, hello.
 Welcome to Nanny Needs a Xanax, a chronicle of my life at this time and all the crazy/stressful/lovely jobs I have. To be clear, I am  not just a nanny. You can add art teacher, office assistant, and up until very recently, terrible salesperson to the list as well. Let's just say I am a woman of many different hats. Also a woman with many hats, but that has nothing to do with this right now. While all my jobs have their moments of great, most days the desire to self medicate kicks in around two p.m. This desire is also often referred to as 'self-preservation.' Although the problem is, none of my jobs leaves much room for this and I might be stressed, but twenty three is a little young to develop a pharmaceutical problem. So rest assured, title is tongue-in-cheek. Stay tuned for the adventure of the world's worst salesperson!