Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Whiny Worker, now with Pumpkin Whoopie Pies!

My boss spoke to me privately yesterday and let me know it isn't me, and no one thinks it's me.  He told me it was totally my prerogative to move and that if I wanted to stay in my spot he would have no problem telling this guy next to me to just not open the window and be cognizant of the fact that just because he sits next to the window doesn't mean the window and blinds are exclusively in his domain.

The guy came in this morning and the first thing he did was open the window without saying a word.  I am the kind of person who gets disproportionately annoyed when I feel an injustice is being done so I find it infuriating that this guy will simply be allowed to win and be able to continue being a jerk with no repercussions.  It's times like these that I feel acutely aware of my gender at work because I know that if a man were to complain, it would be seen very differently.  Women are seen as whiny and nagging by nature and so I feel like my complaints aren't taken seriously.  This guy is incredibly old fashioned and I can just imagine him joking that I must have my period when I complain.

I am going to move.  I will take the high road and really it's a blessing to be away from him, I just don't want him to think he got one over on me and I know he will make some joke about "Finally got too bright/cold over here for ya?" to me and it will take every ounce of power I have to not flip out and be a caustic bitch to him.  I don't like being disrespected when I go so far out of my way to respect others.

I made pumpkin whoopie pies to bring in today and didn't offer him any; this is my passive aggressive "SCREW YOU" to the man who was too childish to talk to a 25 year old girl like an adult and instead ran to teacher to ask them to fix it.

I forgot to take a picture of the top layer, they were much neater looking.  Personally, I hate pumpkin.  I was honestly gagging while I mixed the batter for the cookie portion of these.  While I can appreciate that they are good, I can't say that they transcend my dislike for pumpkin.  The filling though, oh my GOD the filling!  I ate it with a spoon shamelessly.  It's a cream cheese filling with just a barely perceptible amount of maple syrup and it's just amazing.

My project manager asked me why I haven't brought anything pumpkin in so I decided to try it out for him.  I used to bake lots of different things but I think that it became too daunting to try and find a recipe so I just stopped and stuck with the same old things; looking on Tastespotting once gave me great ideas but then it just became inspiration overload and those stupid baking contests people did would occupy pages of space with the same exact item.  It was frustrating and I was tired of looking at pictures and reading text accompanying them that doesn't even mention whether or not the item is good!

These are from Brown Eyed Baker, recipe here.  

Brown Eyed Baker is one of my favorite baking blogs and she has very consistently good recipes.  The cookies here came out incredibly moist and very springy and the filling was a great consistency.  While you ate them, they were soft but not crumbly which is a pet peeve of mine in a lot of baked goods.  I probably didn't cook them quite long enough and my photography certainly isn't as good as hers, but these look great and are easy enough to make and if I am ever inspired to make something I don't like again I am sure I won't search for another recipe.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Whiny Worker

In general, I try to be a pretty easy going person.  I fail at times, and I'm sure my boyfriend would even say a lot of the time, but I do always try to always take other people's feelings into consideration when I make decisions and I also try to go along with what other people want to do.  Well, unless what they want to do it watch baseball all day, but that's another story.

As a result of this, I am particularly bothered by people who are exceptionally inconsiderate.  It's so easy to just not be a selfish dick, why can't everyone just not be a selfish dick?

I sit in a cubicle of four people.  We each face a corner, and my corner is facing the hallway.  The guy who sits next to me sits facing his corner, which is facing a window.  Since the blinds are next to him he considers himself to have control over them.  Every morning I come in and close the blinds because the sun shines directly onto my computer.  Every morning he comes in and opens them and I have to ask that he close them.  Every morning.

I'm not sure when his new ritual started, but his idea of being "considerate" to me is, around 10 AM, starting to open the blinds, millimeter by millimeter, asking me after each infinitesimal change, "Is that okay, Megan?"

I have showed him many times that pulling the blinds up halfway while keeping the top part closed is much better for me and still brings in light.  He still insists on asking me every single fucking time, because he says he doesn't notice any change.

He has told me to eat more carrots, he has told me to get my vision checked, he has asked me if I wear sunglasses outside (uh, YES.  You're supposed to).  He has marginalized my feelings and made me feel crazy for this request every time I've had to make it.  He still insists on trying everyday.

I like where I sit.  I am close to the center of the building where most of the women sit, and I'm far enough from the cafeteria area that I am not bothered by the sound of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" and the men groaning about how great that 16 year old starlet looked in the latest episode of their favorite show.

Today when my boss came in, he asked to speak privately to a coworker of mine who works in the big cubicle next to me, closer to the cafeteria.  When they came out of the conference room, my boss told me that I was going to be switching desks with this other guy.  I was not asked for my opinion, I was told.  I asked if it was because the guy next to me complained, and my boss gave me an elusive answer.  Later on one of my current cubicle-mates told me he heard this guy I sit next to telling my boss how unacceptable my demands are.

I am a crier.  I cry over basically everything, and once I start the floodgates are opened and I can barely stop.  Naturally, this made me cry.  It's embarrassing because I wasn't even that upset by it but I was frustrated and annoyed and hey, those emotions make me cry too.  Why do I have to move because this guy is too much of a baby to compromise on anything, and insists on going over my head to complain about me?  I have to suffer, go through the annoyance of transferring all the items from my desk and my drawers and setting up my dock and monitors again just because this guy can't just be a reasonable fucking human being?

I am pissed.

I also feel that this reflects poorly on me because, since I am moving, it gives the appearance that I am the one who complained, even though I didn't.  It makes me seem like the whiny high maintenance one, and that, coupled with being the only woman in the group, makes me feel self conscious.  I don't want to just be the whiny little girl, but I feel disrespected that no one spoke to me about this.  I am NOT the unreasonable one here.

Now I have two options - move and give the appearance of having complained and being difficult, or don't move and actually complain and be difficult.  I'm not sure I come out even in either situation here, while the guy who is objectively an absolute dick gets to enjoy the satisfaction of having forced me to move, and gets to blind a new officemate with glare daily.  I hope for his sake this new officemate is less outspoken than I am, or at least eats a hell of a lot more carrots.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Some Curated Words

What's up with people "curating" stuff?  How come every department store promotional email I get mentions of collections curated by fashion editors and Theory's newest collection curated specifically for fall (I call bullshit, Theory just makes the same thing every year.  This isn't a criticism; I love them for it) and advice on how to curate your closet (an article that talked about cost per wear and nothing else)?  Is my friend's Instagram really curated around the things that best represent her when every picture is of her dinner or something she bought?  How about my friend's mom's Pinterest that has 4,600 curated pins of things she really, really loves?

You're not curating shit.  "Curating" implies that you're putting time and effort into choosing things that are meaningful not damn pictures of useless shit with the Kelvin filter on them to go on your Instagram.  Is this site a curated collection of my thoughts?  Of course not, it's nonsense.  To use a word most typically used to describe the pieces in exhibitions at a museum instead to announce Neiman's throwing together a bunch of dark colored clothing is absurd.  It's even more ridiculous and narcissistic to talk about curating your own meaningless crap.  My closet isn't "curated" I just buy things and keep them until I get rid of them and I can be honest with myself about the fact that this is really a trivial activity and not at all akin to a museum director trying to decide which famous works of art should go in the new "Fat Babies" wing at the Met.

I'm moody today.

Just One of Those Days

Do you ever have those days where you want to go do something but you just don't know what it is so you get frustrated and end up doing nothing instead and wasting time reading men's rights activists lie about their success with women on Reddit and then you get depressed that these people exist and you can't change that and you especially can't change it while sitting in your bed in green terrycloth sweatpants and this gives you the motivation to want to get up and do something but then every option you come up with sounds shitty so you just take an Ativan and give up?  Yeah, me too.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Fame is Like a Drug

When onetime beauty editor and Vice contributor (not to mention angel dust smoker on the roof of Le Bain) Cat Marnell is brought up in conversation among my people I know it's usually when someone is praising her for her frank and honest portrayal of drug addiction and talking about how much they can relate to her.  I've spent a lot of time reading her "Amphetamine Logic" articles for Vice and can now definitively say she is not only a terrible writer, but truly the last person in the world I would want to publicly claim to relate to unless I was trying to seem really tortured and cool.  In my reading of blog posts written by girls in the midwest defending Cat, followed by the pictures of the authors showing very average girls who have probably never done anything in their lives similar to Cat's, I realized that these are the people who claim to relate - the people who fantasize about having a life so interesting and so fucked up and so interestingly fucked up.  Yeah, I can relate to Cat Marnell, she goes to Le Baron really high and doesn't give a fuck and maybe you prudes should stop judging her because I once chain smoked cigarettes and sipped Mike's Hard in a friend's basement so I pretty much know exactly what she's going through!

I'm just so bored of this narrative.  During my teenage years, I read so many books about the popular girls who are secretly depressed and angsty in their personal lives, feeling the weight of loneliness despite seemingly having it all.  Shows like Pretty Little Liars and Gossip Girl and even 90210 try to convince us how hard the pretty people have it, what with their parents on business trips and so many boys chasing after them, but can many of us actually relate?  Was Gossip Girl such a success among the people that actually live a somewhat similar life, or was it more about girls in other places fantasizing about what it must be like?  This is akin to my feelings about Sex and The City; the soccer moms who come to New York seeking the cupcake and Manolo filled world of Carrie Bradshaw must be sorely disappointed by the reality of stores they can't afford and the Applebee's in Times Square.

Similarly, I think that the girls who claim to be on the same wavelength with Cat are the same ones who buy into her clearly exaggerated stories where she gushes about her importance in New York nightlife and name-drops like any other girl teetering nervously in her platform shoes on the line to get into the Electric Room. She may be a drug addict, sure, but the faux self-awareness in her writing strikes me as real self-doubt, and the constant label-dropping to make her admittedly disgusting life seem glamorous reeks of insecurity.  She can't write about her addictions without talking about sleeping under blankets made of her fur coats on her mattress on the floor, or her trust fund that she plowed through when she moved to New York, or her late nights spent at Le Baron and Le Bain, places it's considered a stretch to even try to get into after 1 AM.  

The little flairs, the mentions of emptying pills out of the pockets of a Balenciaga bag and the pictures of her at Art Basel, are what make her seem like someone worth relating to or claiming to relate to.  I just wish that people would see that behind all that, all the mentions of her fabulous life and not giving a fuck, is a scared little girl who cares so much about what other people think of her that she goes out of her way to justify it and enhance it.  If I were reading her stories for an honest portrayal of addiction, I wouldn't care about that time she sat next to Lindsay Lohan or whatever long speech she thought of after the fact to give to some girls she considers the next generation of nightlife.  

She offers advice to these girls like she understands how trivial her life is but it's clear she doesn't, since she still tries to sell us all on the idea that her addictions don't control her life but are just things she indulges in for fun.  Amphetamine Logic isn't about taking an honest look about the way amphetamines make you think but is just a further example of the exact justifications that being on amphetamines allow you to give for your bad behavior.

She's clearly treating her ails with amphetamines and since getting off of them, taking away that superhuman feeling that they give you and the rush of pure power and possibility you get when they first kick in, would mean she has to deal with her real issues, she won't and she can't.  It's the attention that I think she really loves more than anything, and being a fuck-up gets you a lot more attention than being a good girl.  It's addictive, and it's why girls who are so insecure can be so easily pressured into posting pictures of their bodies online and doing things they know are not in their best interest.  Cat knows that all this shit isn't in her best interest as a person, but would anyone read her stories if she was simply a narcissist?

Tucker Max tried the same trick.  He wrote about being an asshole and everyone loved it, frat boys wanted to be him and women wanted to sleep with him.  But after a while, the people who wanted to be him and said they related to him weren't the cool kids he so desperately yearned for the acceptance of anymore.  He spent so much time trying to convince us all how cool he was that the real people who he wanted to impress started seeing through it.  He was attracting the attention of those people in the midwest who desperately wanted to relate and the hot girls started going out to see him at his book signing because they didn't care about sleeping with a guy like him: he was the guy whose events were hosted at all the corniest frats, by the guys who fantasized about being him and fell for every one of his stories as being the undiluted truth.  After all, he's an asshole and he admits it, so why would he lie?  These people have yet to realize that in the minds of these kinds of narcissistic writers the worst thing you could be isn't an asshole, or an addict; it's being uncool and having no one paying attention to you.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

In Order to Survive Gotta Learn to Live with Regrets

I went to the Jets game on Sunday with people from work, just a few of us who worked on a specific project together getting our first (and probably last) chance to use some company seats not already reserved for wooing some really important client.  It was bittersweet; I had a great time but it reminded me in a lot of ways of my dad, who took me to my first game, and my ex boyfriend with whom I renewed my interest in the team.  I don't miss him so much, but I do miss the feelings I had back then, before everything came crashing down, while I was still in denial about the many issues I had and was able to so easily tune them out and pretend they weren't there.  Happiness almost felt happier then, if only because I wasn't constantly qualifying it with the little voice in the back of my head reminding me of everything else bad and wrong going on in my life.  I had no worries about anything, not because I had no need to but just because I was incredibly adept at pretending it wasn't real, and I really wish sometimes I could get back to that, especially because my problems now are hardly even close to the same magnitude as the problems I had back then.

But maybe that's the downfall of insight - gaining it makes you a better person in so many ways but it also removes your ability to really enjoy things without constantly dwelling on the deeper meanings.  Sure I loved buying my first Balenciaga bag but man I would have loved it a lot more if I could pretend that the money I spent on that lovely little sac of chevre leather wasn't money I should have been spending on paying down my loans faster.  It's much easier to enjoy things when you don't feel pangs of guilt upon seeing them.

The same goes for my feelings about my dad.  When I was in denial that he was really gone and what that meant for me in the long term, i.e. that I wouldn't be able to talk to him or ask him all the things I wanted to ask ever again, it was really a lot easier to cope.  Delaying the grief process only made it worse though, and by the time it all finally hit and I couldn't really pretend much longer it was almost unbearable.  It was enough to keep me from functioning for a significant amount of time, and now pretending it wasn't real for so long is just another thing to add to my ever-growing list of regrets.  I hope reincarnation is real because it would seem unfair for me to be wasting so much time regretting things if this is really my only shot.

Dress: Piazza Sempione // Shoes: Tahari

I actually bought both of these items on my two weekend excursions to avoid the power loss in my building.  The dress is from Neiman Marcus Last Call and this picture/lighting is really a shame because it has so many beautiful details that really deserve to be seen.  The shoes were from a TJ Maxx, and they're not as low as I would have liked but I think the thicker heel helps keep them from seeming quite as stripper-ish as some of my other pumps.  The search continues but these will at least expand my options for now.

One of my boyfriend's friends is getting married soon so I have to start thinking about what to wear to that, although I don't imagine I will buy anything new since this is a true shotgun wedding and probably won't be too fancy.  The girl go unexpectedly pregnant so they are trying to have the wedding quick, before she starts to show.  It's hard for me to act excited for them when I feel like this is something pretty tragic to happen to two 23-year-olds just finishing school, but that's probably something I should work on.  When a friend asked what we should do for the girl's bachelorette party and my response of "Mourn?" was probably not too appreciated as far as jokes go.  Oh well, I'm working on it.

Friday, October 18, 2013

Incredibly Astute Observations, Presented without (OK, Just a Little) Comment

Maybe this will make sense.  Maybe you'll be like my boyfriend and argue that it isn't that way anymore, while I take a tiny nibble of the donut he offered me, feeling guilty about that one small bite even though I could have happily eaten the whole thing.  I am here thinking about how many margaritas I want later and what that means for my breakfast and lunch choices today, looking up calorie counts of various foods and wondering what will fit under my 1200 calorie allotment while my boyfriend drinks lattes and eats donuts and goes out for lunch all the time, I worry about the number on the scale and don't even want him to see me without clothes on days when I feel like I've eaten too much while he tells me he cares about his weight too so it's not like women are the only ones.  I guess when he knows what it's like to beat yourself up over eating a fucking piece of cake then he will know what it's like, but for now I guess I will let him think that his desire to work out and be strong and watch what he eats (within 2500 calories, mind you) is at all similar to my knowing that my value to society is inversely proportional to my weight.  Maybe one day he will be furious with himself over eating an extra brownie and desperately starve himself the next day to make up for it, maybe one day he'll be so disgusted by his body that he pretends to be sick to avoid going to the beach, and maybe one day he'll read the comments on the girls (or in this case, guys) posted on TheChive or Barstool and realize that those girls that everyone is saying are too fat or gross or whatever are still exponentially better looking and more in shape than you and look down at his plate and want to die.  Until then though, I don't think I'll waste much more of my time trying to explain to him why my internal need to please and be accommodating and do what other people want in all situations is different from him learned desire to please based on being a decent person.  I disgust myself.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Little Girl Lost

Well I made the ridiculous, insurmountable, totally predictably devastating mistake of looking at an old friend's Instagram to see that she is now not working (she's a blogger and gives advice on a variety of things like home decor and which beauty products to buy... more on that in a bit) but has an enormous rock on her finger and just bought a huge apartment in the Village with her fiance.  This makes me feel inexplicably bad.  Certainly our lives are not comparable but I feel the need to compare nonetheless.  I don't sit here and write about beauty products all day (although I could, instead I just write about my constant feelings of inadequacy!) and I don't have a man in my life who provides anything for me, yet somehow I feel like she is more fulfilled by her material objects than I am by my intangible *independence* and *ambition*.  Also my attempt at a matte manicure last night didn't work out so I may just be projecting that anger onto her.

So how does a person in this world where all that really matters is connections and money carve their own niche, make their way in without having much of either to begin with?  I don't have the luxury of sitting around home all day telling people about things I like and being able to make any sort of meaningful living out of it.  I don't think I'd want to either though - it's a slow time at work and I'm even bored just going home and having nothing to do, forget about being home all day with nothing to do.

I'm looking more into getting a Master's degree although it seems like everyone who I speak to at work's first question is "Why? What do you want to do with your life that necessitates this?".  And I get that, I know that just getting a degree in something for the sake of having the piece of paper is both a waste of time and money, but it seems unfair to expect me to be able to tell you right now what I want to do with my career forever.  The whole point is I want to explore options so that I can figure that out, and part of that, I think, is gaining more knowledge in areas closely related to the ones I work in to see if those are paths I would like to take.  I have been encouraged to go into sales a lot here ("I see our first female account manager here..." so cool glad my gender works out for me for something!) but salespeople don't need higher education necessarily, so I think that's also a way of dissuading me from pursuing this.  I want to be simultaneously specialized and non-specialized, I want to be good at everything and know everything there is to know, and I think maybe that hinders me.  I honestly feel like I could be happy doing anything, as long as it's challenging and offers me the flexibility to pursue other things when it stops being challenging.  This is probably why I did best in the classes I took that everyone else found insanely hard; for me, finding the answer was a game or a puzzle and I loved the challenge as well as the feeling when I knew I had gotten it, whereas reading and regurgitating information disinterested me and I found it hard to keep my focus on them.

Sweater: J. Crew // Pants: Vince // Flats: Saks Fifth Avenue //
Nails: Julep "Char" (creme navy, it's great)

I don't know why I'm so hung up on what other people are doing.  I really just wish I didn't know sometimes, but it's almost unavoidable.  Life tip (a.k.a. learn from my mistakes): Don't seek out the social media accounts of people you don't really like much.  The whole point is for them to make it seem like everything's perfect and so of course that's how it will appear to you, just making you more bitter and more likely to doubt your own successes.

I miss my friends.  I haven't seen them in so long and I find it so difficult to make and keep plans sometimes.  I wish it didn't require a car ride to get to them.  I think I start getting very morose when I feel like I only ever see my mom, my coworkers and my boyfriend.  Not that I don't love them all, but sometimes I just need to do something Instagram-worthy to feel like I'm even doing anything.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013


I tend to doubt that many people are as truly and awfully unphotogenic as I am (it's true, even my mom agrees!) so I'm not sure how many people can relate to this.  I feel fine when I leave my house, I look in the mirror and often even like the way I look, but then once I get to my destination I can't help but begin to feel hideously unattractive by comparison.  Where I am from, the petite girls with tan skin and long black hair are lusted after the most, and it has always been that way.  If you have seen me, I am basically the complete opposite - tall, pale, gawky, mouse-y brown hair.  I see myself in the pictures people take of me and I wonder, is that what I look like?  Can that be true?  I feel so comparatively ugly next to friends and it gives me incredible anxiety about going places.  Lots of morning I don't even want to leave my house because I feel so ugly.

No one hit on me in high school or college.  The only guys who ever went out of their way to express interest in me were undeniably strange, and honestly I think in a lot of way that made me feel even worse about myself.  When I go to bars with friends, men line up to talk to them but they only chat with me when they have to play wingman for their buddy who is trying to talk to my friend.

People tell me not to worry about those things, that men are just intimidated by me, but I think that's a cop-out.  That's putting the fault on everyone else, not taking the time to look at myself and figure out why I am far and wide deemed not worthy of approach.  Even when I transitioned over to engineering school where the men outnumbered the women 9:1, where the "normal" looking girls were so few and far between that they were treated like supermodels, no one talked to me.  No guy asked for my number or asked me to hang out, except, again, for the guy in all my classes with Asperger's who was so strange I eventually had to stop responding altogether.

Is it me?  Is it them?  Do I focus so much time and energy onto my appearance by putting on makeup and brushing my hair all for nothing, or does it make some minor difference and would I be even more unappealing without it?  How do I stop caring enough to be able to kick myself for something else that's less out of my control?

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

You Know I Got It

Do you ever get the feeling when you buy something new that you now own literally nothing else and can only wear that new thing all the time?  I hope it's not just me.  I bought the Zara jacket shown in the previous post a week or two ago (eBay what's up??!!!) and just want to wear it to death.  Since I don't really post pictures of myself online this wouldn't be an issue but now I realize that in the context of this blog it will appear I am wearing the same things a lot, only to never be seen again once something new comes into the picture.  I feel the need to justify this, but I wonder if other people really notice the same way I do.

My cuticles are a wreck again because I spent all last week in the dull class nibbling on them but I did a manicure with Essie Chinchilly on all my nails and one coat of Sephora by OPI Sparkling Personality on my ring fingers.  It's really cute and if I was less ashamed of my cuticles I would post it.  Maybe this will encourage me to treat them better, so I can share them with the world.  Does anyone have any cuticle product recommendations?

I dressed up today to propose that my job pay for my graduate school, so wish me luck with that!

Jacket: Zara // Tank: St. John // Skirt: Elie Tahari //
Shoes: Tahari // Bag: Balenciaga Papier Two Tone Flap

Tonight I am going out for Thai food with my boyfriend and then staying with him so we can watch American Horror Story together.  I'll be shocked if we stay up for it but hopefully we do.  I have to go get some wine during my lunch break since the restaurant is BYOB, any recommendations?  He loves white wine for whatever reason, it's actually hilarious because we will go to someone's place to pregame before going out and everyone has mixed drinks and beer and he will bring a bottle of white wine to pregame with, swirling it around in his glass while other people play flip cup.  Last weekend he sent me a picture of his pregame beverage of choice, and apparently he brought a bottle of Skinny Girl Sangria to his buddy's house to drink while they all hung out and did guy stuff.  He really is hysterical, and his lack of ego and ability to just not care what other people think is so incredible.  I am really lucky to have him, even though he makes for a terrible GRE-studying partner.

Monday, October 7, 2013

Late Registration

I am really into the idea of doing some sort of Masters program in applied statistics, but how do people do this while working full time?  I feel like online learning isn't as helpful to me as real in-class learning but there's hardly any time to actually go to class and I don't want to stop working and do school again full time.  What's the deal?  Are online degrees through regular universities (regular meaning not for-profit designated although really, we know they're definitely for profit) considered the equivalent of their in-class alternatives or is there still a stigma attached?  That girl who raps about getting her degree in her pajamas has made me feel like maybe online learning is still considered the easy way out, especially given the frequency of those commercials during daytime episodes of The Price is Right and Teen Mom reruns, and unfortunately the costs are not proportionally lowered to match the lower prestige.  I want to make the right decision here, how do I start?!

I have been using MyFitnessPal to track my food intake, for people who now make my PERFECT margarita, I calculated it out and that bad boy is 170 calories.  Now this sounds like a lot but is pretty standard for a margarita, in fact it's even less than one you would get out made with sour mix or other more calorific alternatives, but that's not an insignificant portion of my daily calorie allotment going to a single drink. Triple Sec has less calories than Rose's Lime Juice, so adding a little extra Triple Sec and a little less Rose's (counting to 3 for Triple Sec and 2 for Rose's, say) and then making up the difference in lime taste with the juice of a fresh lime should bring down the calorie count by at least 15.  The Triple Sec is sweet so that compensates for the loss of the sweetness in the sweetened lime juice, and then the fresh lime (which I am assuming has barely any calories) brings the drink back from tasting too orange-y.  I am going to do this same counting out calories using ingredients for a lot of things I make, maybe I can cut out some hidden calories by lowering the portions of things I don't need.  My boyfriend has joined me and I took a glance at his, his daily calorie goal is 2500!  Oh what I wouldn't give to be a few inches taller and 190, I take that back although I do maintain it must be nice to just eat whatever you want and not worry.  This boy used to eat probably more than 4 packages of Chewy Chips Ahoy cookies a week.  He quit the cookies cold turkey and dropped 10 pounds.

Jacket: Zara // Long Sleeve Tee: J. Brand (here) // 
Jeans: J. Brand (non coated version here) // Shoes: Tory Burch

We had our power cut this weekend to finally replace the transformer that was ruined in Superstorm Sandy so my mom and I stayed in a hotel in NJ near the Franklin Mills outlet mall.  It was okay, the Neiman Marcus Last Call had a ton of stuff but not much of it really worked for me, and the Saks Off 5th was also full but it's just so hard to find the non Saks Fifth Ave brands in there.  Their house stuff is fine and all but if I am outlet shopping I probably want the serious stuff.  I am on the hunt for some low heels now, which is turning out the be surprisingly tough.  I think kitten heels are ugly but it seems the only other options are too high or just plain black pumps.  Really, the stripper shoe trend is done, can we please start making something else?

Thursday, October 3, 2013

I am in literally (LITERALLY) the most boring training ever at the current moment.  How do they find the people to teach these things?  This guy is just basically talking to himself in monotone, mumbling and occasionally not knowing the answer to our very few and far between questions which leads to extended periods of silence.  I notice other people able to follow him and watch him but this is absolutely awful for me.  Is this a product of my Millennial upbringing, my constant ability to change the channel or open a new tab when I get bored?  My company paid $2,000 for this course and I'm sitting here playing Candy Crush and hitting refresh, praying Gawker has decided to publish a new post worth my reading.

I have been trying to eat better lately.  In school, I walked at least 2 miles a day at a fast pace and I was just generally very active.  I never realized how sedentary the working man's lifestyle is.  I spend 8 hours a day in my chair at my computer, 1 collective hour walking to and from the water fountain or to so-and-so's office and back, and then the rest of my time sitting in my car, followed by sitting on my bed.  As you can imagine, the pounds came on quickly.  My new lack of activity, coupled with a human vacuum for a boyfriend, has not been great for me.  I had started making these little single serving mug chocolate chip cookies but yesterday I realized they are around 500 calories (!!!!!) whereas two of my homemade cookies are only around 120.  It's crazy how the things we eat are deceptively so bad for us.  At my training they ordered us Red Robin for lunch yesterday so out of curiosity I looked up some calorie counts for their meals - a burger with cheese was over 1000 calories while a Big Mac is only 550.  What I got out of this is that I should be eating meals at McDonald's more.  The Crispy Chicken Salad was even more calories than the burger!  Oy.  I don't like sounding obsessive about my weight but I am obsessive about my money - if I have to buy all new clothes and can no longer fit into the stuff I already spent money on, I am gonna be pissed.  

I finally booked my November Vegas trip.  I am pretty nonplussed about it, I mean I am sure it will be fine but I just find it very hard to believe that spending exorbitant amounts on alcohol, sweating through the makeup you carefully applied for hours, feet screaming after being forced to withstand heels forever, being sized up like meat by bouncers, feeling inadequate compared to all the surgically enhanced strippers all the guys are ogling at the table next to you, and then the next day having to wear a damn bikini will be the, ahem, time of my life.  I really think the Vegas experience is ideal for the Instagram generation, where more fun is had by talking about it and captioning your pictures than actually living it.  Interesting lighting, cool looking settings, the gaudiness of everything making it easy to feign super wealth, the inherent assumption you'll be incredibly done up making you not look so out of place for trying so hard for your pics, these are what we value now.

Sweater: Kenneth Cole // Pants: J. Crew

Sweater: Tory Burch // Dress: Alice and Olivia // Belt: Wilfred (Aritzia)

Just some random work outfits I happened to take pictures of.  How do people get such good photos of the clothes they wear to work without having to resort to the embarrassment of asking someone to photograph you?  I'm still working on that.