Tag Archives: awesome

A Crazy Idea

I have a crazy idea.

I think this is the part where I say “Just crazy enough to work.” But I don’t know if it will work.

I also don’t know if it’s just boredom. I don’t know if it will help me find whatever it is that I’m looking for.

I do know it’s scary. I do know it’s the kind of thing that parents advise against. And the kind of thing that friends encourage, or at least until they realize you’re serious. And I do know that I’m so beyond restless.

I have a crazy idea.

In a few months I get to celebrate the wedding of two friends who are awesome and I wish I could see more. I get to go all the way to DC for the wedding and then head to New York to visit another friend and just enjoy the city. While looking at flight and train plans for getting there and back, a thought popped into my head.

What if I didn’t come back to work? What if I left my job, took my vacation pay and spent some time exploring? What if I took trains, took my time, meandering my way back to the West Coast? What if I did all that and wrote about it and took photos and video to share and to remind myself of it all later?

Then the serious questions appeared: could I really leave my job? What would my family say? What would I do when I got back? Could I afford it? What would my roommate do? Where would I go? How long would I spend? Am I just trying to escape? Will I be able to keep up my half marathon training? What would I do if I don’t come back energized? What would I do if I couldn’t find a job when I got back?

I don’t really know the answers to any of those questions. Despite that fact, I have started formulating a plot. A plan. An itinerary?

I’ve always found the best way to approach a crazy idea is to answer the questions you want to know the answers to and avoid the ones you don’t.

A month.

Philadelphia – DC – Atlanta – New Orleans – Chicago – Denver – Salt Lake City – Sacramento – Portland – LA?

Philadelphia – DC – Atlanta – New Orleans – Chicago – Minneapolis – Portland – LA?

Philadelphia – DC – Atlanta – New Orleans – Houston – San Antonio – Tucson – LA – Oakland?

I have a crazy idea.

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What Happens in Vegas, Will Probably End Up on My Blog

Hi Vegas! You look fab! See you soon!

If you haven’t heard, I’m all signed up to go to Vegas for Bloggers in Sin City this May. If you don’t know what Bloggers in Sin City (BiSC) is, basically, 60 bloggers, 4 days, awesome sponsors (like Paper’d – so excited for this app), fountain jumps, glitter and sparkles, buffets, parties, pool, booze guitars, turning your bloggy friends into your real life friends and having an unforgettable time. If that doesn’t tell you how awesome it’s going to be, check out the video and agenda. Plus, this event is so awesome they are running a contest to give one lucky BiSCuit their registration fee back! Hi, sign me up and also thanks Paper’d (for reals you guys, I’ve been anxiously awaiting this app for months).

Since I haven’t been to Vegas in over a year (and I’ve been dreaming of BiSC for 3 years), I’m beyond excited and after spending several hours reading up on all of the attendees (eight spots left as I write this aka REGISTER!) I’m fucking ecstatic, y’all. I have decided to spend the next 5 months reading blogs, tweeting at all the awesome bloggers and generally avoiding all productive activities. Basically what I’m saying is: ALL THE EXCITEMENT! Please be May NOW!

Thinking about this spectacular trip also reminds me of the three times I previously headed to Sin City for fun. As a result, I thought I should share with all my new best BiSC friends and anyone else, the amazing, ridiculous, gross and outrageous things that have happened to me in Vegas. BiSCuits, this is the bar that we’re aiming for and I have no doubt that we will blow so far past it that Vegas without BiSC will be much paler in comparison.

One of my many Vegas faces.

What Happens (to me) in Vegas:

  • went when I wasn’t yet 21 and got thrown off the casino floor within 3 minutes of arriving
  • shared two rooms with more than 40 coworkers from the student paper
  • slept under a desk (for safety – turned out to be smart)
  • snuck around multiple hotels stealth-drinking beer
  • rear ended someone in traffic after being ordered to kill a spider by my screaming passengers on the way there
  • had a stranger tickle my sweaty armpit in a club (THE ACTUAL WORST)
  • wore my first pair of heels and then promptly was forced to run across cobblestones outside of the Venetian in them
  • complained that my feet had actual holes in them
  • slept in my dress with sweatpants on and my legs halfway under a bed
  • got a speeding ticket on my way there
  • stayed in a suite for a bachelorette party where there was a TV that came. out. of. the. desk.
  • requested the huge whirlpool bathtub as my bed
  • wore the most painful shoes of my life and later became that girl walking through the hotel lobby barefoot
  • went to Chippendales, which had a high level of unintentional hilarity
  • wore a whistle around my neck and attempted to yell “Last chance fellas!” every hour on the hour, while pointing at the bride-to-be
  • ventured into the lazy river at MGM and somehow came out without any diseases
  • nearly missed our flight there

BiSCuits, your challenge has been laid out. Let’s do this shizz.

PS – Any BiSCers in the Bay Areeeeeaaaaaa who want to meet up between now and May: let’s do it! Email me, tweet me, comment, something! EXCITEMENT!

2011: The Laziest Retrospective Ever

I know this is the time where I’m supposed to be looking back on my year and learning lessons, making plans for next year and spouting out inspirational quotes and whatnot. But instead of doing all that, I’m going to be lazy and make a list of my favorite things from this year. No need to dwell on all the crap that it seems we all have been through over the last 365 days. So here are the best things from my 2011.

  • As much as I think weddings can be over the top and ridiculous, my first bridesmaid experience was awesome and I’m so glad I got to see two of my favorite people get hitched (plus there was SEERSUCKER!)
  • My second successfully planned and executed commuter train pub crawl (complete with dead rapper buttons). Plus nobody puked in anyone else’s hand AND I didn’t wake up with a mysterious giant bruise this time
  • Weekend at Bernie’s 3: The Roadtrip. Just when you thought the San Diego Zoo couldn’t get any better, you realized they sell beer.
  • My third trip to NYC, in which I packed an actual suitcase, went to Citi Field, hung out on a roof, ran on the Westside Highway and drank at a place where they actually just “put a bird on it”
  • 4th of July weekend, where we learned that all it takes to mobilize a large group of  guys is finding out that Round Table’s buffet is available on the weekend.
  • Making my way through the Warrior Dash – 5k, 10 obstacles, 1 slightly undignified slide down the front of a climbing wall, 1 visit to the first aid tent and lots of mud and fun
  • Being a good big sister and helping my sisters outfit their first apartment
  • Developing my cooking and baking skills. Big ups to Nicole on that one.
  • My ridiculous dating stories. Favorites because they make good party tales.
  • All of the awesome things and people on the internet. I’ve connected with some amazing new tweeps/bloggers this year and y’all are the best (and share the best cat videos)
  • Starting a new game where I don’t send email to my brother without at least one link to a cat doing something weird on the interwebs
  • Falling in love with my Roku Player (and embracing my geek girl status). It has brought me so many amazing things, including Doctor Who and an even deeper love for Parks and Rec. And yes, I believe this confirms I will die alone. At least I’ll have streaming video on my TV.

And as for 2012? I plan to keep the same resolution I’ve had for the last two years: pants are for suckers (continued props to Rachael for that one)

Happy New Year!

PS – Be safe y’all! There is absolutely no excuse for driving drunk or even tipsy. Especially not when AAA is offering Tipsy Tow in a lot of areas. And if friends won’t listen and hand over their keys, tell them about Britain, who we barely met just weeks ago but made a lasting impression and was killed by a drunk driver. Sleeping in your own bed isn’t worth the risk.

On Santa (Literally-ish)

There’s no time quite like the holidays to cause people to sit around reminiscing on Christmases, Hanukkahs and New Year’s Eves past. For some reason, each year we make it through the holidays marks another milestone and another “this time five years ago” moment to remember.

But I’m not going to sit around here telling you depressing stories about how old the holidays should make you feel or about all the things I didn’t do in the last year that I should have done. Instead, I’ve been thinking about kids and Santa and the hilarity that can ensue when the two meet.

Last week I was watching old episodes of the Graham Norton Show and he had a segment featuring awkward photos of kids with Santa. The annual trip to the mall or visit from Santa at school for some reason is a polarizing event. Kids are either pee-their-pants ecstatic or utterly terrified of jolly old St. Nick.

Elf - Santa's coming!

SANTAAAAAA!

As it so happens, you can stick me in the “utterly terrified” category. Despite the fact that I, like any kid who believes in Santa, was beyond excited to let the guy break & enter and eat cookies in exchange for gifts, meeting him in person became quite the ordeal for three-year-old Kelly.

Such a seemingly quiet, helpful child...

Although I appeared to be just a quiet, average kid (and clearly helpful and outdoorsy), my meeting with Santa in preschool revealed my utter awkwardness and possibly a slight dramatic streak at a very early age. Upon Santa’s arrival in our classroom, we were all excited, if a little bit nervous because we were all well aware of STRANGER DANGER (and he probably smelled of beef and cheese). However, after finding out that we would each sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what we wanted for Christmas, my anxiety grew.

As my turn to visit with Santa drew closer, I began to panic while my parents got the video camera ready. Finally, my turn was here and the panic and anxiety broke through my three-year-old cool, calm and collected exterior in the form of sheer terror and tears. Not just tears, but uncontrollable sobbing with plenty of snot and slurping. There may have also been screaming as my teachers and parents tried to coax me into being lifted onto this stranger’s lap to share my desire for a mouse stuffed animal that smelled like grape (completely serious, does anyone else remember these? mine smelled like dimetapp aka heaven).

With all the hysterics of my fit, the adults in the room quickly realized there was no way they were getting me to sit with the big guy alone. Thanks to some creative thinking and complete openness to humiliation, one of my teachers hatched a plan that would allow me to share my Christmas wish AND avoid getting to close to the scary man in the red suit. In a thankless act of complete dedication to children and the spirit of Christmas, my teacher plopped herself down on Santa’s lap before allowing me to be placed on her lap to ensure delivery of the Christmas gift without having any physical or eye contact with the scary stranger.

Eventually, I got over my fear of old men in red suits, probably just in time to realize his hand writing looked A LOT like my parents’ and grandparents’. Regardless, this Christmas instead of worrying about how many Christmases have passed, how many presents I’ve given or whether things will be different next year at this time, I’m going to think about my preschool teacher (who even allowed herself to be filmed during the ordeal) and that three-year-old version of me giving everyone a preschool holiday party to remember. I am her and she is me. We share the same mind – inquiring and skeptical, yet full of joy – and the same ability to bring a little laughter to everyone’s day, even if it’s unintentional.

So, if anyone needs me this Christmas, I’ll be re-channeling that three-year-old (minus the hysterics). And snuggling with a stuffed animal that smells like artificial grape, of course.

Happy Christmas and Hanukkah and Kwanzaa!

Why My Friends are the Best

Lately, I’ve been having a lot of rage. I’m not going to go into the possible triggers because, well, rage blackouts are just so passé. This rage is often manifested in angry rants, fist pumping pounding, yelling and heavy sighs.

Despite the relief these actions bring me, my friends are getting concerned about my well-being, as well as that of my furniture, walls and those around me. You only have to tell somebody once that you think stabbing someone in the jugular with a ballpoint pen would be very satisfying (because of the “pop”) to cause some serious concern.

Although most people might simply tell me get therapy and abandon me, my friends decided to get proactive in my rage problem. Nothing says true friend like getting your hands dirty when your someone is full of rage.

So my friends set out to re-direct my rage and started with my birthday gifts. Did they get me a pass to a yoga studio? Or a spa day? No, they know me better than that.

My first new rage-reducer: a hand mixer, which will bring me peace through cooking and baking. I’m starting to find the serenity contained within the kitchen and having a hand mixer can only help increase that serenity.

punching bag kit

This is how Ali started right?

My second rage-reducer: this lovely punching bag kit. What better way to get rid of your aggression than to punch it out on something that can’t call the cops or press charges?

My third rage-reducer: movies and TV on DVD. If nothing else, sitting me on the couch and letting me pretend I actually am on ‘Psych’ or that Hogwarts is real can at least make me forget whatever it was that got me all worked up in the first place.

And this is why my friends are awesome. Seeing me full of rage would scare others off for fear of stabbing or a black eye, but here they are, letting me punch, bake and couch potato it out. They’re in it for the long haul, even if that’s just to reap the benefits of the baking.

Will it work? Unclear. But at least they know me well enough to know, if all else fails, there’s always booze (possibly in the form of beer pong or a tall boy in my purse).