I have an emotional hangover. Because Vegas.

I had no idea what to expect when I signed up for Bloggers in Sin City. I mean, "I knew" because there was an itinerary and you know, all the #BiSC tweets from last year and the year before that, so on, etc. But I was nervous - would I fit in; would I have fun; are these people all going to think I'm too young or too weird or too not-a-serious-enough-blogger to be here?

 I feel like I make this face 99% of the time.

But then I moved in with a fellow BiSC-uit, and through a few brunches met several other BiSC-uits, and suddenly the overwhelming nerves tempered down to only some kind of nerves and by the time our limo arrived at the Flamingo, I was just BELLIGERENTLY EXCITED.

What happens when you put a bunch of bloggers together in a limo? They instagram it, of course.

I don't know what it is about BiSC that creates deep emotional bonds between so many people who were basically strangers before the weekend. Is it that it's four days fueled by debauchery and laughter, or is it because it is full of the type people who would sign up to spend 4 days with a bunch of other strangers and LOVE IT? What combination of awesome people and awesome circumstances makes me cry at a brunch listening to wonderful people say even more wonderful words about all their feeeeelings?

Whatever magic comes together and makes it happen (I'm thinking glitter + 8 second hugs + Nicole & Doni's sheer willpower), I have never walked into a group and felt so instantly comfortable and loved. Between all the 8 second hugs and ALL THE EATING and all the photos together and whiskey tasting (whiskey! tasting!) BiSC was easily one of the best weekends of my life, and some of the most fun I think I've ever had. 

To go margaritas, beautiful weather, and some of the most fun people on the internet? I'm all about that life.

Pool day is the best day.

4 of the many DC bloggers. Reppin' the District in style, obvs.

Largest whiskey collection in the US. I want to go to there... again.

Our sampling. Blackberry whiskey? Delicious. The Knot? Like a warm Christmas hug in my mouth. 

And now? Now I have this bizarre emotional hangover in which I can't believe I'm not in Vegas anymore surrounded by 68 of the most amazing people ever and I just CAN'T DEAL WITH EVERY DAY LIFE, Y'ALL.  It's more than missing the planned all-you-can-eat brunches and gift bags full of goodies from Firmoo, Vega, and others and playing in the pool and using our badges to bypass the line at Pure (though those things I'll definitely miss). I can't find the words to explain the magic and the warmth of BiSC that makes people feel like they are free to be the most honest and wonderful versions of themselves -- because that's definitely true. Four days of completely genuine, lovely people all telling each other how genuine and lovely everyone is.

Sometime when I wasn't looking, I learned a lot this weekend. But the biggest takeaway I've got to offer is this: If you want to be part of amazing things (like BiSC), you've got to be brave enough to sign up for them. The moment you open yourself up to the possibility of amazing friendships and experiences, they're available to enjoy. 

And now I have to stop because FEELINGS AND TEARS. I LOVE AND MISS ALL OF YOU BISC-UITS. 

15 Things You'll Never Hear Me Say

Ever.


1. Travel? No thanks, I'm content to stay in one place forever and ever.
2. I've had enough chocolate chip cookies.
3. Ew, keep dogs away from me.
4. I love it when people interrupt me.
5. Let's never do anything outdoorsy.
6. I hate Friends.
7. I would like to live in an apartment free of books.
8. Rick Perry is my favorite.
9. No, I don't want another hug.
10.  RyGos coloring book? Lame.
11. What? I never obsess about things.
12. I want to spend the next 50 years in a cubicle.
13. Coffee is the worst thing on the planet.
14. I would totally rather watch this movie than read the book it's based on.
15. But really, stop giving me hugs and stop inviting me on cool trips around the world.


Not sure where I saw these lists start, but it was too fun to pass up.

Happy Thursday!

this is the thing about rupert grint.

Entirely not surprisingly, I get the occasional email/comment from someone saying, "Okay, but really. What's with the Rupert Grint thing?"

There's three reasons for "the Rupert Grint thing." The first was just having fun with SEO stuff and probably annoying the hell out of Rupert Grint's publicist, if she/he even noticed. The second is actually because I really do want to meet and hug Rupert Grint at some point in my life, which has to do with growing up in the world JK Rowling created in Harry Potter and how much the character Ron Weasley has affected my life, but that's not fun for you guys to read about. So I'm going to go ahead and pretend that the Rupert Grint thing has to do with reason number three:

 

Who can argue with that? I sure can't, Rupert Grint.

So that's the Rupert Grint thing. It's not that I'm obsessed with him; in fact, I've read hardly any interviews with him, I have no idea what sites are out there dedicated to Rupert Grint (I'm assuming there are some, considering there are entire sites dedicated to opposums). I don't even know when his birthday is. The Rupert Grint this is just about messing with SEO ranking (go google "Rupert A.L. Grint" then laugh at what comes up), a life-changing novel character, and those ridiculous green eyes. Any more questions?

*As much as I wish I could take credit for picture, I didn't make it. If you know who did, let me know.

yes, this is another post about Rupert. A.L. Grint. See also, HI RUPERT A.L. GRINT!

{via}

It's been a long time since I last blogged about Rupert A.L. Grint. And since I eventually want to meet and hug Rupert A.L. Grint, I'm pretty sure this is a travesty. After all, one of these days, Rupert A.L. Grint is going to google search his own name (shut up, you do that too), he's going to find my blog and see that "Hug Rupert A.L. Grint" is on my Life List. And when he sees that, he's going to think "You know what? I'm Rupert A.L. Grint. I'm the kind of nice guy that serves all my cast and crew members ice cream on the last day of filming Harry Potter. I'm also the kind of nice guy that would totally hug a stranger because I love my fans and love to make people happy. Especially since when you google 'Rupert A.L. Grint,' this blog ranks second. But mostly because I, Rupert A.L. Grint, am a nice guy."

I know you are, Rupert A.L. Grint. I know. 

See also, how cool is this? (!!!)

My blog literally comes up second only to wikipedia (and images, but I don't count that). !!!!!!!!


The question is, Rupert A.L. Grint, are you also the kind of nice guy that would see that "Meet JK Rowling" is also on my life list and introduce me to her? Because that would be cool.  But I totally understand if you can't because we shouldn't infringe on her life now. See, I'm a very understanding person.

Anyway. I was thinking, Rupert A.L. Grint. It would be really awkward if I flew all the way to the UK to meet you, only to hug you and then peace out. "See ya later, Rupert A.L. Grint! Thanks for the hug! Tell JK I said hi!" I mean, obviously I would do other things in the UK, but our meeting should probably last more than 30 seconds. So I thought I'd ask you some quick questions. In fact, I'll put them here so you can start thinking about your answers now - I know people like to be prepared for these kinds of high-minded interviews.

"So, Rupert A.L. Grint, some time has passed since Harry Potter ended. While I'm sure you're loving the time to relax, what are your plans for the future? Continue working in film or will you go full time as an ice cream truck driver?"

"Now, I hate to ask you this but, Rupert A.L. Grint, have you ever used color-enhancing dye for your hair?"

"On a scale of 1-10, how absolutely outrageous do you think this whole blog is, Rupert A.L. Grint?"

Those questions aren't too invasive, are they?


Do you guys have questions for Rupert A.L. Grint? Or maybe JK Rowling? Leave them in the comments and if/when I ever meet Rupert A.L. Grint (or perhaps JK Rowling), I'll try to ask them.

first photos from DC, 10 things 10 days have taught me, and the idea to start a snarky advice column.

{mine.}

I've spent the last ten days being busy. And constantly surrounded by other people. My first moment of reprieve was on Sunday morning, when everyone went to church and I stayed at home to breathe.

But let me back up.

I got here the night of January 19th. I've been staying with a friend and her two room mates until I find my own apartment (I have some leads - keep your fingers crossed, PLEASE!). I've started my part-time internship, interviewed and got a part-time job that will pay some bills, and have felt overwhelmed. I've made a few new friends, gotten closer to the friend that I'm living with, and done so much apartment hunting that I think I should be allowed to design my own now because I could do it well. (Sorry, every architect I just insulted.)

10 days in DC has taught me a lot.

People are nicer here than everyone "warned me" they would be. I don't know if it's because Texans want to be the most hospitable ever (we are!), but every time I told someone I was moving to the east coast, they would saying something along the lines of, "You know, people in the Northeast just aren't as nice as people from the South." Well that's just false. I've gotten lost and been helped by total strangers, I've made friends at work (already!), and have had longer conversations with the woman checking me out at Target here than I ever did in Texas.

There's just too much to do in DC. It's impossible to stay in because there's always a new restaurant to try, a museum to go to, or a show to see. I will literally never be bored here.

"Business casual" is the loosest term ever. In one of my offices, business casual means non ripped jeans and a sweater, and in the other office slacks, a button up shirt, and heels. What the what? (What does "business casual" mean to you?)

For a control freak like me, the metro is the worst invention ever. I can't control when the train comes or whether or not in breaks down? I'm twitching just thinking about it. I miss having a car. [Did I ever tell you guys about the car accident I got in in November than totaled my car? No? Basically, a car behind me hit me and shoved me into the car in front of me. Not my fault at all and I wasn't hurt thankfully, but now I'm car-less. Boooo.]

I am crazy about old architecture. I mean, I think I always knew that (hello, love affair with all of Europe ever), but every single old building in  DC makes me gasp because I think it's so pretty. I just wish the metro was above ground a lot so I could see more of the buildings while on my way places.

Apartment hunting is the most exhausting and frustrating endeavor ever. I've lost count of how many I've looked at (eleventy billion? easily), but I have two leads, so hopefully one will play out soon and I'll be able to move in somewhere soon! Because, also? Not having a space to call my own is really stupidly exhausting. I live out of a suitcase on my friend's floor and while I'm crazy grateful she's letting me do this, not having my space makes me feel directionless and confused and out of wack. I also hate living out of a suitcase because it means I have like 10 shirts and 5 pairs of pants and no accessories and I'm starting to lose it. Professional nomad? Out of the question.

Have you ever tried heated Vinyasa yoga? I hadn't until I got to DC and now I love it. My thoughts on it? THE MOST SWEAT EVER EVER. The most excitement to take a shower ever ever. The best work out I've gotten in a long time. I love this style of yoga now, and I totally recommend it. Also, I'm going again tonight. I'M SO EXCITED. 

I literally have no idea to walk in snow. I remember dealing with this when I went to Montreal, but three days of snow on the ground in DC taught me that I need to leave twice as long to get somewhere as I actually think I need because I'm terrible at walking in the snow. I fall like every 10 feet. I'm about to tie tennis rackets to my shoes to walk everywhere... that works, right?

When the sun is out, DC is crazy beautiful. I'll always love Texas skylines (see below), but DC sunsets are becoming a close second (see below below).

{mine.}

{mine.}

I very easily get obsessed with shows. My newest obsession? Bones. I've always loved it, but I've been watching like 4 episodes a day for the past few days. It's a problem. Especially because I think it's keeping me from going out more, which needs to happen better. I love to be out and about - time to close the computer and act on that!

Which I'm about to do! But two things first:

I'm still going to need a few guest bloggers for when I finally do move and stuff, which is when I'll be obnoxiously busy. More busy than now. So if you're interested in guest blogging about moving to start a new job, or just moving in general, let me know! You can reach me at valorielovely {at} gmail {dot} com.

Also, I'm thinking of starting a snarky advice column on here. I'll try to really help, obviously, but also? The snarkiness. Would you guys like that? Would you submit your quandries and conundrums to me? Did I spell those words right, because Blogger says I didn't. But Blogger also says 'snarky' isn't a word and that's wildly false.

Wildly.

The Rupert A. L. Grint Update

 {via.}

I’m sure you guys saw this post, in which I basically just talked about how awesome Rupert A.L. Grint is and used his name a whole lot. This post was written not just because I really like Rupert A.L. Grint, or just because “Hug Rupert A.L. Grint” is on my Life List, but also because using a celebrity’s name eleventy billion times in a post has a funny effect.

Go search “Rupert A.L. Grint” in Google. Really, go for it. I’ll wait.

Are you back?

Did you notice who was the seventh ranked hit for “Rupert A.L. Grint” (besides YT videos)? Was that maybe moi?

Hell yes it was. And hell yes I just spoke French. Because I’m awesome.

I didn’t hit number 3 or 1, like my inspirations did using Kanye O. West and John C. Mayer. I can’t decide if it’s because Rupert A.L. Grint is just that much more awesome than them and so I had more searches to compete with (it is), or because I didn’t use his name enough, OR because Rupert A. L. Grint has two middle names and people are easily confused by that.

Anyway, this is all to say that I hope that when Rupert A. L. Grint chooses to google search his name (what, you don’t do that?), he finds my link and clicks on it, sees that “Hug Rupert A.L. Grint” is on my Life List (number 35, just sayin'), and then chooses to fulfill this lifelong dream of mine.

I imagine that it’ll be this big deal meeting – Blogger Meets Rupert A. L. Grint in Lifelong Dream Come True Story! Of course, I’ll be so embarrassed/excited that all I’ll be able to do is stammer and blush. Actually, scratch that. I WILL BE AWESOME. I will be totally witty and hilarious, which will lead to me being wildly famous as I gain recognition for making the whole cast of Harry Potter laugh. I’ll write a book about meeting Rupert A. L. Grint, and how that one blog post I wrote in December of 2011 changed my life. It’ll be awesome.

Want to get in on this? I know you do. Who doesn’t want to get famous through name dropping, drawing people to their blog, and meeting their favorite famous people?

Here’s how it works: Pick someone kind of famous, someone that people would search for on Google. Try not to pick someone too famous, like Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, or JK Rowling. Back on your blog, use this person’s full name, middle initial and all, and repeat it as many times as you can. Go ahead, be obnoxious with it. If possible, link to things within your blog. Link back to this blog to show where you got your inspiration. Google SEO settings like it when you link to other things.

After all that, come back and leave your link here. Leave a comment here. I’ll go back to your blog and leave a comment too. We will win all the analytics and get all the rankings and all the fame!

And if that fails, we’ll at least laugh about it. 

Can't wait to see who you guys pick and what you guys come up with! 

RUPERT A.L. GRINT, You've Kind Of Been John C. Mayer'd. And Kanye O. West'd.

Rupert Alexander Lloyd Grint. You guys have heard of Rupert A. L. Grint, right? He became super mega famous after playing a certain Ronald B. Weasley in a certain Harry Potter series. You also might have seen Rupert A. L. Grint in Cherrybomb or Driving Lessons, the latter of which I know to be an awesome movie, the first of which I'm just assuming is an awesome movie because it has Rupert A. L. Grint in it.

Basically, Rupert A. L. Grint is cool, and should move to America. Because in America, lots of people like Rupert A. L. Grint. And Rupert A. L. Grint's awesome red hair.

By now, you have probably noticed that I'm saying Rupert A.L. Grint a lot. See, I read this blog called So Caroline Says, and a little over a year ago she blogged about Kanye O. West after another blogger named Aunt Becky blogged about John C. Mayer and a funny thing happened - Aunt Becky became the third ranked Google link when you google his name. Then, in an even more hilarious twist, Caroline became the actual top hit for Kanye O. West in Google.

 Yup. Go Caroline. And Kanye O. West. 

But why should John C. Mayer and Kanye O. West get all the attention? Why does it always have to be some Americans getting all the attention? I mean screw that, right, Rupert A. L. Grint? Why can't a nice British actor, like Rupert A. L. Grint, get some attention from the blog community? I know those posts about Kanye O. West and John C. Mayer were talking about what total douchecanoes those guys are, but Rupert A. L. Grint is not a douchecanoe, so this post is mostly going to be about how awesome Rupert A. L. Grint is instead.

So this post is for you, Rupert A. L. Grint! Rupert A.L. Grint, may you always have adorable red hair. To you, Rupert A. L. Grint, who apparently has two middle names and I mean, what the hell is that about, Rupert A. L. Grint? Is that a British thing? Whatever, it's cool. For you, Rupert A. L. Grint, who owns an ice cream truck with REAL ice cream in it, according to Emma C. D. Watson (again with the two middle names?). To you, Rupert A. L. Grint, who sometimes dresses kind of grungy but looks too clean cut for that (sorrynotsorry).

 

Instead, Rupert A. L. Grint, I will always prefer the photo below, which is black and white so we can't actually appreciate your fantastic red hair, but that's okay. I wish I actually had photo creds for either of these photos, so hey, if you took either of these photos of Rupert A. L. Grint, let me know in the comments and I will give you credit for your photos of Rupert A. L. Grint. And if Rupert A. L. Grint himself is reading this, hi. Tell me who took these photos of you.

Also, Rupert A. L. Grint? It's #35 on my Life List to hug you. And as you're getting to follow your childhood dreams of owning an ice cream truck, I think you can understand that since I went to the premiere of the Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in L.A. when I was 11, I have had a childhood dream of hugging you. So, Rupert A. L. Grint (and Rupert A. L. Grint's publicist that's reading this), let's make this happen. I'm willing to fly to England. Just sayin'.

Friday Internet Favorites and Fill in the ______.

 I love Fill in the Blank Friday! Head over to Lauren's blog and join in!

1.   My favorite new blog of the moment is    Young People in Love   .

2.   Something I am thankful for is   Thanksgiving being right around the corner     .

3.  Something that made me laugh this week was   see my Friday Favorites next :)   .

4. An item that is currently on my wish list is    everything on my Dress Me Up pinterest board   .

5.  I am excited about    Rock the Republic this weekend .

6.  If I were a color I would be   green, it's happy without being obnoxious .

7.  My favorite way to spend a chilly fall day is by   bundled up in a scarf, big jacket, and a blanket if I'm at home .

I know last time I said I wasn't sure I would do this every time, but I kind of like the idea of Friday Favorites. What do you guys think?

Here are some of my favorite things on the internet these days:

• Obama "Made in the USA" mugs. Can't get rid of the birthers conspiracy? Then roll with it. Or, drink coffee out of it. Whichever.
• The 50 Most Ridiculous Facebook Status Fails. It blows my mind that people actually say some of these things. See also, makes me the happiest ever.

• Joseph-Gordon Levitt covers R. Kelly's Ignition: Remix.

• Actually, just any time Joseph Gordon-Levitt covers a song. MARRY ME, MAN. 
• A close runner-up to that video is this one of a really random Chinese opera covering Lady Gaga's Bad Romance.

And that's it! Everyone have a great weekend. I'll be at my second Rock the Republic festival with Maroon Weely, taking pictures of musicians, poets, and comedians and generally wondering why I want to move out of College Station.

I don't really like pumpkin spice lattes.

 

{via.}

There, I said it. There is my blinding confession for all the world to see and judge.


I know, you guys are baffled by this. Who doesn't like pumpkin spice lattes?

I'm sorry. I wish I could change, but I can't. I've tried.

However, I do like the announcement of pumpkin spice lattes every year because they mean one thing and one thing only... Fall is finally here. :)

Fall, which means football, scarves and jeans, and not sweating the second you leave the house. I mean, that didn't happen today because the high here in south Texas was around 90 F, but that's not the point. THE POINT is that it's almost time for evening strolls in the park and drinking hot coffee and loving how beautiful the trees are.

And the best part? Later this month I'll be getting to spend some time in Washington D.C. for a conference - how gorgeous will that be? I'm so excited for that I could bounce right out of my chair.

But I won't. Because, let's face it, I'm clumsy and I'd break my leg and then not be able to go to D.C. And that would be unfortunate.

It's going to be a good fall, guys. Trips to D.C., graduation... Maybe I'll even learn to like pumpkin spice lattes. But I'm not holding my breath.

The Life 'Unfollow' Button

 Or, why I'm never hanging out with anyone in real life ever again.

You know how when someone starts to annoy the hell out of you on Twitter, you can unfollow them? How if they're really driving you nuts, you can block them? How if you really just want to punch them in the face, you can report them for spam? pretend they don't exist?

It's nice. I can unfriend someone on Facebook, stop reading their blog, stop following them on twitter and voila! they're pretty much cut out of my life. This is the beauty of leading a social media lifestyle.

Which is why I'm never going to speak to people in real three-dimensional life again.

Because real three-dimensional relationships are hard. They require time and effort. They require physically being in a place with someone and they require mostly undivided attention. They require sacrifices. And when they go wrong, they seem to require seeing each other again, even when you'd rather not.

There's no life Unfollow button. I can't just Unfriend them and never hear about their lives anymore, or never see them again, even if their photos aren't coming up in my news feed. I have to deal with them still, and sometimes that really sucks.

I wish everyone had a giant X above their head. We could mentally click it, and that person would be hidden from our life. They'd go on living their own life, but we'd never hear rumors about what they're doing now, or run into them at the market or on campus.  Not until we're ready to at least.

I'd click the X above Michele Bachmann's head first.

Reminding people of 1776, China's most vicious grandmas, and how its killing puppies hot outside.

 

{mine.}

Or, my first few weeks in Beijing.

So, basically, old Chinese women are vicious. I don't know what it was about their upbringing that made them still able to violently shove fully grown men out of their way even when they're 80, but during rush hour traffic on the subway, when everyone is pushing and shoving to get on, I'm actually afraid of these women. They may look all cute and innocent, smiling and eating fruit on the side of the road in their old lady clothes, but they're NOT. When it comes down to it they can fight like angry tigers, and its not like anyone can push them back because they're *old* so we just have to put up with their vicious elbowing and cursing as they fight everyone else for a seat.

In case you're shaking your head, it's not just me that thinks Chinese grandmas could probably push around American football players: All the other people staying in China through my program agree. Even the Brits and the Americans can agree on the viciousness of Chinese grandmas. Truthfully, the Brits and the Americans can agree on a lot of things, like day drinking and how trips to Hong Kong are very important, but every once in a while we need a good rousing chorus of "Yeah, well, we totally kicked your ass in 1776!" and "Oh, honestly, you wouldn't even BE a country if it wasn't for us!" to remind us that we can't be getting *too* chummy with them. We are still waiting for HRH Elizabeth II to just admit that Canada is the 51st American state, after all.

Also, I would really appreciate a trip to Canada right now, because basically, its insanely hot in Beijing. Not just like hot-hot, or really humid hot, or even holy-I-can't-breathe-because-it-burns-the-lungs-hot. Its Killing Puppies Hot here. [Killing puppies hot is the kind of hot where the weather is just so oppressive you consider that you might actually be willing to kill a puppy if it meant you could cool off. I thought of this last week.] I just can't wait to see what Shanghai has in store in two weeks if its supposed to be even hotter there than it is here. STABSTABSTAB.

Anyway, I could probably ramble on for 18 pages (front and back! [give yourself a cookie if you got that Friends reference]) about my first few weeks here in Beijing, but I'll stop here. I'll talk more about the Forbidden City, the Summer Palace, the Great Wall, and all the other places I've been next time.

Hope you guys are having wonderful lives. If you want to be on my email list (which has slightly more contact with me than the blog), leave a comment below. :)

basically, I just miss coffee. there, that summarized this whole post for you.

{via.}
{totally unrelated to this post: I didn't take this picture, but I totally own those same coffee mugs. IKEA for the win!}

So, I gave up coffee for two weeks. If you read the title, you probably don't need to read the rest of this, but if you're really curious, this is how I feel about it so far:

Withdrawals. Withdrawals, withdrawals, withdrawals. Withdrawals. WITHDRAWALS. Withdrawalswithdrawalswithdrawalswithdrawals. Withdrawals, withdrawals. Withdrawals. Withdrawals. Withdrawals.

Caffeine headache. Caffeine headache. Caffeine headache. Caffeine headache, caffeine headache, caffeine headache, caffeine headache; caffeine headache. CAFFEINE CAFFEINE HEADACHE HEADACHE. Caffeine headache. Caffeine headache. Caffeine headache, caffeine headache, caffeine headache. Caffeineheadachecaffeineheadachecaffeineheadachecaffeineheadachecaffeineheadache.

DEATH. BYE FOREVER.

It's like daycare, but with alcohol.

{mine.}

Sometimes (read: all the time), I think college is really just a holding pen created to give people my age a little extra time to get our shit together before we're allowed out into The Real World. It's almost like a day care where our parents dropped us off before The Real World is ready to pick us up, except now alcohol is involved and also, we can drive. College is like a little extra time to tire us out, so to speak, because The Real World doesn't really know what to do with us just yet. We're not quite ready to be productive members of society, but we're starting to figure out how to actually be a Grown Up.

And so, we wait. We wait for the inspiration to come to us, for something to click, for us to figure out what we're supposed to do next.

It doesn't always work for everyone. Some people spend their whole lives trying to figure out who they are and where they're going.

It's working for me.

I've almost got it figured out that there are some days when I can't have fun all day but have to sit down and do some real work. I've realized that I have to get a decent amount of sleep every night or I can't function the next day.

It's taken me a long time to admit it, but I don't want a job where I will have to wear a suit to work every day. I don't want to sit inside at a desk, I don't want to attend staff meetings, I don't want to do the 9-5 bullshit, and I really don't ever want someone to tell me what to do and when to do it. I don't want to can't be part of corporate America.

I haven't quite figured out what that leaves me with.

But I know I still have a semester left here at this daycare. I know I've still got a few more late nights and missed deadlines and good laughs and cram sessions left before The Real World drops by and asks if I'm ready to go yet. And, if I'm not, I know there's always grad school, which is maybe a little less like daycare and more like kindergarten, where I'm expected to know how to tie my shoes, but maybe I still need a little help remembering my home phone number. And there will be alcohol involved there too, and people will probably still expect me to show up to things hungover more often than not, and Grown Ups will tell me about how 'they remember those wild days when they were my age,' and maybe I'll finally figure out what it is I will do instead of just knowing what I don't want.

And, to me, that doesn't sound too bad. That sounds like something I can handle because my only other option is not knowing what I want but just doing what's expected of me by other people who don't really know me at all. And that sounds like the worst kind of time out ever.

I Cooked This (And No One Died!)

Which, really, is kind of an accomplishment.

Not that my cooking has ever actually killed anyone. Yet. There have been times when it looked like it might though.

WE'RE GETTING OFF TRACK.

You might have seen a few days ago that I tweeted about craving brownies so badly that I dreamt about them (you didn't, you say? Why aren't you following me on twitter then?). So, I ventured out to the local HEB at 6:30 pm on a Sunday (that was stupid) to buy ingredients to make the richest, most delicious brownies I've ever had in my entire life.

AND I MADE THEM.

Now, thanks to the power of the internet, you can make them too.

Valorie's Ridiculous Cookie Fudge Brownies of Awesome.  

Ingredients: 
3 cups crumbled chocolate chip cookies

1/2 cup melted butter
1/2 cup better
3 oz unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup chopped almonds (optional [I didn't use them])
1 cup semisweet chocolate pieces
6 oz softened cream cheese
1/2 cup powdered sugar

1. Preheat oven to 350. Mix crumbs and melted butter. Press mixture firmly against bottom and sides of 8x8x2 or 9x9x2 inch baking pan. Bake for 7-8 minutes. Remove from oven, allow to cool.

2. In a medium saucepan, melt butter and and unsweetened chocolate over low heat, stirring constantly. Remove from heat; cool.

3. Stir sugar into cooled chocolate. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating with a spoon until combined. Stir in vanilla.

4. In a small mixing bowl, stir together flour and baking soda. Add mixture to chocolate mixture; stir until combined. If desired, stir in nuts at this point. Spread the batter in the pan with the cookie crumble crust.

5. Bake for 30 minutes for the 8-in pan or 25 for the 9-in pan.

6. While brownies are baking, melt 1 cup semisweet chocolate pieces over low-heat in a saucepan, stirring constantly. Remove from heat, cool slightly. In a small bowl, stir together 6 oz cream cheese and 1/2 cup powdered sugar. Stir in melted chocolate until smooth.

7. Cool brownies on wire wrack, spread with chocolate cream cheese frosting.

Enjoy! :)

The Shenanigans That Defined My Trip to Montreal

{mine.}

I went to Montreal this past weekend for a Model UN conference (if you don't know what Model UN is). While my assigned committee basically blew, I loved this trip and would go back in a heart beat. These aren't the photos yet (photo blog coming, hopefully on Wednesday) but here's a summary of the shenanigans that went down. Because, let's face it, did anyone really expect me to be able to go through a weekend abroad without getting into some kind of trouble?

Actually tell the airline that just canceled your flight that you're pissed. Sitting in the same godforsaken airport for 12 hours will suck, but you just might get a bunch of meal tickets and a $600 travel voucher out of it. [You can leave your suggestions for where you think I should go next in the comments.]

You are very obviously an American abroad when you're slightly excited to have your ID checked at a bar in Canada. Yes, okay, the drinking age there is 18. Congratulations, Valorie, you look ridiculous. It's fine.

Staying out until 3 am when you have an 8:30 meeting is totally a good idea. Let's face it, everyone else at the conference was too. And it's not like you went to Montreal actually for the conference.

I may be in college, but passing notes is still fun. When you don't have phone service but *do* have people whose entire job that weekend is to pass your notes in a room of ~400 people, you will be all. over. that. 

People in Canada really do say "eh" at the end of most sentences. "This chair sucks, eh?" "Call me next time you're in Canada, eh?"  IT'S AWESOME, EH?


When you spend almost 24 hours a day with the same nine people, you will start picking up all their habits. It's fine. NBD. Anxiety attacks. Shwasted. I AM A LADY.

Subzero temperatures are totally survivable, but not easily navigable. If I had a dollar for every time I slipped in the snow/ice/slush, I wouldn't need to work anymore. Not really. But really.

No, really, it's okay to ask directions sometimes. Especially when it's 4 am, -20 F out, and you and your friend are a little drunk and have been wandering around downtown Montreal for an hour looking for "a tall building" because clearly there is only one and it must be your hotel. Screw your pride; ask the creepy guys on the corner where the Sheraton is and pray they don't follow you.

Skip your meetings. Okay, yes, you *did* travel all the way there for the conference. And yes, skipping a bunch of meetings really won't reflect very well on your team. But, I mean, you're in fucking Montreal and, let's face it, even if your resolution passes nothing actually changes in the real world. So, work hard, but skip a meeting or two; see the city, live a little. The pictures and memories you have will last a lifetime.

When the same airline that canceled your first flight also screws you over for the flight back, it's okay to start using the company name as a curse word. DELTAAAAA!

In Which I Manage to Bitch About Both Willow Smith and Shitty Nicknames in the Same Post (Impressive, really.)

I'm one of those people that has like a thousand nicknames. I'll respond to pretty much anything. Valorina. Valorayray. Rie. Rie-rie. ValPal. The list goes on and on. But the nickname "Val," is kind of like nails on a chalkboard to me. No, actually, it's the sound that makes me want to punch babies.
It's kind of like that song "Whip My Hair" or whatever the fuck it's called by Willow Smith, which is the song that makes me homicidal. I mean, really Will Smith? You allowed your daughter to come out with this crap?

REALLY?

Please tell me that song makes your ears bleed.

Hearing someone call me "Val" makes my ears bleed too. It also really makes me wonder what he or she has been doing the 28484029 times I've mentioned that Val is a MAN'S name and last I checked I have a vagina, thanks.

So, you know, stop calling me Val, or I'll be forced to tie you to a chair and make you listen to I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH on repeat until your brains melt into a useless mess, like Will Smith's obviously has.

Declaration of Womanhood

I hold these truths to be obvious (as well as somewhat bitchy, and only kind of satirical) that all Women are human, that sometimes Women cannot be perfect. That it is the right of Women to occasionally lose their shit, that though they try their best to "do it all," it is their privilege, their duty, to stand up and protest when the expectations of Society and The Media have become too much.

Article One: I am a real woman. I do not have the body of an adolescent boy; I'm not all straight lines and no hips. I'm healthy and I have curves. Learn to like them or try dating other men.

Article Two: Me saying, "I want to be single," does NOT translate to, "Try harder." It also doesn't mean, "Buy me something," or, "Express your undying love for me." Sometimes though, it does mean GTFO.

Article Three: I fart sometimes. I also burp, sneeze, bleed, and cough. Sometimes I even poop. I'm not made from some combination of fairy dust and porcelain skin that exempts me from all that. They're all natural bodily functions. Get over it.

Article Four: "No," does not mean, "Yes."

Article Five: I am not your damsel in distress. I do not need you to ride in on your white horse and "save" me. I can handle my own shit, and if I can't, I'll ask for help.

We, therefore, in appealing to Common Sense, do declare that we are not some superhuman being that can do everything and anything, be everything and anything, and still show up for dinner looking like we just stepped out of a Victoria's Secret catalogue; that we are absolved from the more inane expectations of The Media and Society, and anyone who tries to tell us otherwise is going to get punched in the face.

The One About Sprinklers

{via.}

I know what you're thinking. She's blogging about sprinklers? What the fuck? Things are really going downhill around here.

It's okay. I'm kind of thinking that too. It's like, my life has gotten to the point where sprinklers have to actually be a legitimate subject on my blog. How pathetic am I?

Okay, but here's what happened. A certain amount of time ago, a few friends and I were out at a dance hall in town. Just the girls, hanging out. Being single and awesome. You know. We'd been asked to dance a few times, no big deal. That is, until one of the guys becametotally fixated on me, which was okay for about FIVE SECONDS, which is about how long it took him to start talking to me about sprinklers.

SPRINKLERS, PEOPLE. THIS WAS HIS FLIRTING. HE TALKED TO ME ABOUT SPRINKLERS FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES. Did you know there's like five different types of sprinkler systems frequently used in America? No? Really? Is it because you DON'T CARE KIND OF LIKE ME?

I don't want this to turn into a dating advice blog. Lord knows I'm pretty much the least qualified person to be giving dating advice anyway. But, at the risk of giving bad advice, I will say this:

IF YOU'RE GOING TO FLIRT WITH A GIRL AT A BAR, HAVE SOME GAME.

I don't care if that means coming up with a list of topics to talk about and reviewing it occasionally. I don't care if that means practicing lines in the mirror before going out. I don't care if that even means trying them out on your friends for feedback. Do whatever you have to, because if you find yourself talking to a girl about SPRINKLERS for any period of time and you're NOT talking about getting in swim suits and playing in the sprinklers, nor are you the guy who came to fix her sprinklers, then you are not getting her number at the end of that conversation, my friend.

So, you know, there's my most recent horrifyingly awkward dating story. For the record, I DID try to change the subject, several times. I tried bringing my friends into the conversation. I also tried simply WALKING AWAY. Nothing would deter this guy!

PROTIP, boys: If a girl just GETS UP AND WALKS AWAY FROM YOU while you're in the middle of a sentence, that's probably a sign that you should just give up. Just saying.

And now you should tell me your horrifying dating stories in the comments so I stop wondering if I'm the only one that attracts these crazies. Ready go.

The Nouns.

{I don't honestly know whose this is. But it isn't mine.}

I've gotten to the stage after a break-up where I flirt with basically everything that moves. Well, and is male. Mostly. Anyway, this is a dangerous stage for me. Because I inevitably end up meeting (or just noticing) someone really cool and deciding I'm totally ready to be in a relationship again BUT I'M REALLY NOT THIS TIME.

And even though there are about five really cute and/or sweet guys in my life right now, I'm just going to keep screaming that in my head. And at y'all. Because they don't listen. Get excited.

So instead of texting them, I'm going to sit here and admit that I've gotten to a point in my life where there are some things I just won't compromise on. I've dated enough good guys (and more than enough bad ones) that my standards are high now. Come join me up here, won't you? And so, I present:

Nouns I Promise Not to Put Up With Anymore
{This list has been inspired by this post by The Frenemy. And yes, I did also agree to the Manifesto.}

• Anyone who doesn't think Friends is awesome.
• The DRUG DEALER.
• The guy that jokes about rape.
• One word text messages.
• Broken promises.
• The inability to understand that I like to be alone sometimes.
  
• Anyone who doesn't like my friends or family.
  
• Anyone who thinks depression is something you can just "get over."
• Lies.
  
• Stupid dating games.
• Slackers with no ambition.
• Guys that have slept with more girls than they are old.
  
• Someone whose feelings toward me I just kind of have to guess/assume instead of KNOW.
• The is-this-a-date-or-are-we-just-hanging-out moment.
• Someone who doesn't like to read.
• Skinny jeans on men. [Amended on 12. 11. 2010 -- some guys totally can pull this look off. Yum.]
  
• Guys who preach to me.
• Email ask-outs. CALL ME, YOU WIMP.
• Anyone who doesn't find me impressive.
• The guy that isn't okay with me having more boys who are friends than girls who are friends.
  
• Clingy guys.
• Guys that don't like to cuddle.
  
• People that party more nights of the week than they don't.
• The guy that thinks he knows what's best for me. I am a grown ass woman, I can take care of myself.
• Someone who makes me feel like I need to act differently around him.
• Jealous boys.
  
• Anyone that doesn't want to live loudly and voraciously.
  
• Someone who uses a pet name more than my real name.
• Guilt trips.
  
• The guy that I'm only interested in because he has a job and seems relatively stable and healthy.
  
• Bad tippers.
• The guy that has to act totally macho in front of his friends. The DudeBro.
• Anyone who doesn't think I. Fucking. Rock.
• The guy that's still in love with/hung up on his ex.
• Anyone that doesn't get my humor.
• Guys named Alex. (Sorry.)
• Someone who won't be up front and honest with me.
  
• Rude boys.
• The straight up refusal to dance. Ever.
  
• Somebody who isn't as excited about me as I am about him.
  
• Guys with no fashion sense whatsoever.
  
• Someone who thinks Texas is the best thing to happen to the planet ever and never wants to leave ever ever. Like, what?
• Boring people.
  
• Guys that do not stop calling me "Val," no matter how many times I say not to.
  
• SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T GET HOW LEGIT AND AWESOME I AM.

So, a deal: In return for these things, I promise not to settle or be a crazy bitch. Well, 99% of the time. And yes, I totally get that I'm probably going to end up dying alone, but I'm okay with that at this point.

How to get your Big Girl Badge

aka In Which I'm Not So Much an Adult as I am Just a Really Tall Child. Except Not Really Because I'm Only 5'3".

Every once I'll find myself thinking, "Look at me! I do grown up things now! I'm an adult! Weeeee!" and then I realize that by using exclusively exclamation points and still saying "Weeeee!" I'm really not qualified for my Real Life Adult stamp yet. But I have gotten my Big Girl Badge, and this is how:

Things my room mate does: Cook chicken pesto pizza for dinner.
Things I do: Cook macaroni and cheese with cut up hot dogs for dinner.

Things my room mate does: Wear business attire to her Real Adult Job.
Things I do: Quit my job because it's boring and I want more time to sleep in the mornings.

Things my room mate does: Pay rent on time.
Things I do: Forget that I don't get to live here for free. Frequently. EVERY MONTH.

Things my room mate does: Take her MCAT and prepare to graduate next May.
Things I do: Have to look up what MCAT stands for and consider dropping out of college for a semester.

Things my room mate does: Eat a well-balanced breakfast every morning.
Things I do: Forget every morning that I'm lactose intolerant and have milk with my cocoa puffs.

Things my room mate does: Put on makeup in a way that makes her look super professional and cute.
Things I do: Somehow make it to 20 and STILL not know how to put on eyeliner correctly.

Things my room mate does: Take her essential vitamins every day.
Things I do: Take my fruit-flavored chewy vitamins every day.

Things my room mate does: Sit right next to me and study for her test tomorrow.
Things I do: Write this blog post and wish there were little kids trick-or-treating in our neighborhood to distract me further. Also, CANDY. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE......

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!