A Thousand Times, Yes.

"I play real sports. I don't try to be the best at exercising."

from here.

Soon, my love. Soon.

Oh Look.

They made Future Me into an action figure.from here.

How Old Am I Again?

Another obsession (as of late):

from here.

from here.

from here.

from here.

from here.

from here.

I can hear my sister making fun of me now.

Overheard.

Dad: You're doing it wrong!
Mom: You are NOT foreman of this house, sir!
Dad:...you're still doing it wrong.

Dreaming of a Snow White Christmas

from here.

from here.

from here.

from here.

from here.

Just in case anyone was wondering what to get me for Christmas.

We Need To Talk About This.

I cannot express my excitement appropriatly.

UD Naked2 Palette.

Nerd Alert.
Big Time.

Sunday Inspiration

...On a Monday.
Deal with it.
What. Up.

from here.

Some Reasons Why Video Games Rule.

One of my most favorite songs of all time? Perhaps. The best use of ANY JAY-Z SONG EVER? Most definitely.




Sometimes I wonder if Aubrey Plaza and I were separated at birth. And then I remember that she's way cooler than me.




Sam Worthington? Hot. Jonah Hill? Hot...? Weird.




And finally, the greatest thing video games have ever given me. True story: I was serenaded with this song by someone very dear to me. He learned to play guitar just for the occasion. It was probably one of the sweetest, most thoughtful things anyone has ever done in my presence. His girlfriend is a lucky lady.

Don't ever let anyone tell you that video games aren't vehicles for intense creativity.
Or that they don't rule.
Because, clearly they do.

Something we can all appreciate.

I have often attested that John Hughes may have been largely responsible for my creation of unrealistic expectations in terms of my romantic interactions with men (aka he ruined my love life).
Ergo, I had to share this lovely little post I discovered on my new fave site HelloGiggles . I'm kind of in love with it. It holds many lovely treasures, this post being chief amongst them. Or, rather, what I've found so far.

Before I allow you to bask in the glory that is this vastly intelligent compilation of life lessons and awesomeness, I must insist that you feast your eyes on pictures of various John Hughes landmarks around the Chicagoland area. MollyBeth and I took a tour when she came to visit for Thanksgiving two years ago. Why are there so many of them around here, you might ask. The answer to that is simple: because I live in the best and most magical city in the whole wide world.

The Home Alone house. Cheese pizza, anyone?

Cameron's house. Let my Cameron go...

My lovely co-host posing in front of Glenbrook North high school, the backdrop for many outdoor scenes in the Hughes film library, as well as our rivals. SPARTANS SUCK.

Everything I Need To Know About Life, I Learned From A John Hughes Movie

by Vanessa King

Occasionally (okay, maybe more than occasionally), all I want to do is lay around in my pajamas and watch movies. This weekend was one of those occasions. While scouring my somewhat embarrassing DVD collection (though a worthy reflection of a life spent growing up in the ’80s and ’90s), I realized I own nearly every film ever made – written and/or directed by John Hughes.

Beyond being iconic films of a generation, what the heck is it about a John Hughes film that makes you want to watch it over and over again?

More than just a hilarious look at relatable characters, I’ve come to the conclusion that his films were really 90-minute life lessons. According to Hughes, here’s how to get through 80 or 90 years while staying relatively sane:

1. Family vacations should be avoided at all costs. Your father will get lost and there’s a good chance someone might die.

2. There is always a Geek who thinks you’re gorgeous. You don’t have to like him back, but know that there is going to come a time when the Popular Guy fades into oblivion and the Geek finds himself locking down a small role in The Dark Knight.

3. You never really escape high school. Look around the room right now: I bet you can pick out a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. The guy in charge is probably an idiot.

4. Fake sick whenever you can.

5. If you fly from Chicago to New York in the winter, you’ll have more luck playing pickup sticks with your butt-cheeks than you will taking off on time. If you get delayed, make a friend. It’ll make the journey a little easier to handle.

6. Go to a party by yourself. You’ll have a better time.

7. Be nice to your crazy uncle. Though he may have a gambling problem, a dependancy issue and drive a really ugly car, he probably has more in common with you than you’d like to admit.

8. Get a dog. A big, slobbery dog. He’ll frighten the neighborhood buillies, help you talk to boys and maybe even save your life.

9. Go camping at least once a year. The experience will make you be a better person.

10. If ever you find yourself lost and alone, don’t panic. Everything will work out by Christmas.

11. Make Molly Ringwald your BFF. Because she is awesome. (Okay, that’s not really a life lesson, but for real, Molly, if you’re out there, totally gimme a call.)

from here.

I don't know why...

...but I needed to share this picture.
It makes me LOL.

This is what happens on Sundays in our house.
And it's not even a little bit posed.
Awesome.

Boy Friends (not boyfriends)

"What I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way."

When Harry Met Sally

Have you seen this movie?
If the answer to that question is "no," drop everything you are doing and go watch it. Rent it. On-Demand it. Netflix it. Steal it. Whatever. Just do it.
In fact, even if the answer to that question is "yes," you should probably drop everything you are doing and watch it anyway.
Because it is made of awesome.
Go. Now.

Welcome back.

All of my life, I've had boy friends. I will admit that I'm not entirely sure of the reasoning behind this. In my more enlightened moments, I attribute it to the fact that my personality is an evenly distributed mixture of tomboy-ness and girlish. Rather, a more evenly distributed mixture than most.
I am just homogeneous enough in that department to avoid being androgynous.
Okay. I'll stop with the SAT vocab words now.

In junior high, two of my best friends were a pair of boys named Matt and Pat (they are not related, though funnily enough two of my current closest male friends are also named Matt and Pat. Except they're twins. Which is weird. More on that later). During this period in my life, afternoons and weekends were spent in someone's basement either watching movies or playing video games.

Just the three of us.

Sometimes, in the evenings, our other friends would join us for kung-fu movies or board games or something that is equally awesome in the mind of a fourteen year-old.

Mostly, it was just the three of us.

And I loved it.

There were no discussions of hair or make-up or periods or crushes on boys.

Not that those things didn't interest me.

I just thought it was nice to have a break.

With Matt and Pat, it was all sports and action movies and pizza.
And that was fine by me.

My mom, concerned parent that she is, noticed how much time I seemed to be spending in dark rooms with two pre-teen boys and decided that it was time to have a conversation.

A conversation about "the one things that boys want."

I threw up in my mouth a little bit during this conversation.

I was not a sex object to these boys by any means. There is no question in my mind about that.

Though we spent hours and hours together, neither of them ever made any sort of move sexually or dropped any sort of hint. And this is to their credit because, as my mother so astutely observed, they WERE 14 year-old boys.

Looking back on that time, I am so glad that I was lucky enough to have these boys as friends. In a world where young people seem to be growing up faster and faster, being exposed to males who treated the girls in their lives with respect would shape my expectations and standards for the men that I did want to be romantically involved with. Not to mention my future friends.

These days, my relationships with my boy friends are a little bit different. But that circle of my social life is still made up of the same respectful, intelligent, and concerned men.

They hold doors open for me.

They walk me to my car.

They go out of their way to buy me gluten-free treats.

But, that doesn't mean that they don't fart in front of me or tell naked lady jokes.

And that's how I know that I'm a girl friend, and not a girlfriend.

These same boys also have a tendency to stand over me menacingly in bars in order to keep the near-do-wells away.

Whether I want them to or not.

Please don't misunderstand:

I am all for Girl Power.

Women's Rights.

Sticking Together.

Whatever.

But I do think that there is value in being reminded, as women, that there are men on this planet who will treat us as equals.

Not treat us like slaves or sexual outlets or second-class citizens.

Not put us on pedestals because we are "the fairer sex" or coddle us or shelter us.

Just as I would never debate the importance of having female friends in my life, I will never underplay the importance of having male ones.

I know that any woman in the world would be lucky to spend their lives with one of my boy friends.

Just as I know that any man I introduce to them will be acutely aware of how lucky he is to have me.

And, on top of all, I can burp and watch football in appreciative company.

Because, as good as girl friends are...

boy friends are good, too.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

You guys should be used to this right now.
Whatevs.
When I'm not working (which is, like, never...with the exception of RIGHT THIS SECOND), if I have the choice between sleeping, laying by the pool, going to a dive bar, or blogging...welp, I'm gonna choose one of the first three.
It's true.
Sorry Grandma.
Sorry Internets.

Oh well.

Hey! I've got some really cool art installations to show you.

Ponder:

Rebecca Bauman? I think could be buddies.

from here, via here.

In Case You Were Wondering What It Is We Do Around Here

Just sayin'.

Some Awesome Animal Videos For Your Sunday

You. Are. Welcome.

A New Joy

On my days off, I like to get started late.
I wake up around the normal time, lay in bed and read or pet the sleeping lion that lives with me.
I venture downstairs, fire up the laptop, and turn on The Food Network.
Usually, Ina Garten.
Because I'm cool like that.
As someone who has lived on a restricted diet for the last several years of their life due to various forays into vegetarianism, veganism, ambitions of weight-loss, and now, gluten-free (not a choice, merely necessity), I like to play a little game with the shows I watch. It involves trying to modify recipes in my head, to a point where I can consume them based on the rules of my current food-intake requirements.
Sometimes, it works out.
Sometimes, it can't be done.
Either way, it always fun and I'm always inspired and usually hungry.

Today was one such day.
Ina, Peanut, and I were hanging on the couch while I checked my e-mail and did other important things (like read my newsfeed on Facebook).

There I was, bemoaning the fact that we had nothing remotely gluten-free in the house (I need to go shopping) and I was hungry.
Ina's recipes tend to have that effect on me.
Except I didn't want to bust out all my mad cooking skills this early in the morning (okay... it was noon, but whatever). I kind of needed something that was easy.
So, let's recap:
Easy.
Delicious.
All ingredients present in the household.
Gluten-free.
Right.

Then, I looked up and Ina was making eggs.

Holy crap, I forgot about eggs.

Maybe I didn't really forget about them.
But in my defense I didn't eat them for a long time, due to the veganess.

Okay.
Eggs.
I can do that.

And I did.
They were good.
Of course I ate them with hot sauce.
My Dad insists.
Funny story: when Molly and I lived in England, I carried a bottle of Tabasco in my purse with me wherever we went. The Brits aren't particularly famous for their food.
You can ask her. I'm sure the image is burned into her brain.
She probably has nightmares of the embarrassment I caused her.

Ina says they are best when cooked over a low, slow heat.
Generally I am not that patient.
However when Ina tells me to do something, I do it.
And she was right.
Apparently, the French cook their scrambled eggs in a double-boiler.
That would probably be super-delish, but I think I'll save that for a less desperate time.
To my credit, I think I went pretty slow. Or slower that usual.
I'm not really sure.

Either way, Ina saved the day.
As usual.

Mother Lover

Have you ever met my Mom?
Allow me to introduce her.
She:
Loves reality television.
Went to college on a softball scholarship.
Gave birth to her third child at home.
Doesn't wear make-up because she doesn't need to.
Thinks The Lonely Island are a riot and (not so) secretly wants me to marry Andy Samberg so she will have talented and hilarious grandchildren.
Admits that Napoleon Dynamite is her favorite movie (a close second? Forgetting Sarah Marshall).
Still loves me no matter how much I've charged to her credit card during past shopping endeavors.
Makes spaghetti sauce better than anyone you know.
Always tells the truth.
Has been married to the same man for 32 years.
Loves her children more than she loves herself.

In other words? She is awesome.

I'm pretty lucky to have such a cool Mother, no?

In honor of all you mothers and mother lovers out there, I give you....my mom's fave video.

Tina Fey is the Sh!t.

I couldn't even read this aloud to my Mom without hysterics.
Can I be this talented one day?
From here.

A Mother's Prayer for her Child: by Tina Fey

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.”

-Tina Fey

These...

...are what I'm using to distract myself from the craziness in this world right now.

Did I mention that I'm allergic to gluten? Well I am. It's awesome. Especially when you're half Italian. ALL THOSE PEOPLE EAT IS PASTA. I AM ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE.
Thankfully, there's Gluten Free Girl. Have you met her? She's awesome. You should check her out. Even if you've not had the gluten-free lifestyle thrust upon you (it's actually not that bad. I'm just being dramatic and bitter...par for the course, really).

My admiration for the genius and hilarity of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Maybe you should jump on the bandwagon. The same goes for Eastbound and Down. Danny McBride is the shiznit.

The newest book by innovative make-up artist and photographer and all around badass Francois Nars, Makeup Your Mind: Express Yourself. So inspiring. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up. Review post to follow. Promise promise.

PS- I'm really liking Katy Perry these days. Not gonna lie.

There Is No Death Worth Rejoicing

Dear Lizzie

Today is your birthday.
And I have to admit that we barely spoke about that tonight on the phone.
I chewed your ear off about all my unimportant problems.
Even though it was your birthday.
And you didn't care.
You just listened.
Because that's the kind of friend you are.

You are someone who is kind.
And smart.
And insightful.
And good at so many things.

Remember when we first met?
I was freaking out and crying.
Typical.
And you hated me.
Also typical.
But then we were cast together in that one show?
And we were forced to be sisters.
And then we actually became sisters.

Remember when you got married?
You let me pick your wedding colors.
Because those were the colors that matched my dress.
I insisted that I would be your maid of honor.
Not because you asked me to.
But because I was not about to let you walk down the aisle without me by your side.
We stood there, next to the waterfall, as you said your vows and chose to spend the rest of your life with the wonderful man who is now your husband.
I cried again.
Of course I cried.
I was so happy for you.

Remember when I called you with a huge crisis?
I needed your help immediately.
I needed your advice.
I needed you to listen to me and tell me what to do.
Except...that seems like it happens all the time.
So, maybe we won't go there.

There are so many facets to you, Lizzie.
So many things that you're good at.
Writing.
Teaching.
Singing.
Acting.
Knitting.
Eating spicy tuna rolls.
All the important stuff in life.

You are so wizened and well-versed.
Yet you love anything that sparkles.
And candy.
And glitter.
And crafts.

We have been through so much together, you and I.
But after all the boys and the drama and the stupid people in the world (not us, of course), you are always there for me. And I for you.
I know I probably don't say it enough, but I would be lost without you.

Sometimes I feel lost.
And misunderstood.
Yet somehow, you always know that right thing to say.
The reasons why I feel the way I do.
Because you've been there.
You've been where others have not.
No one understands me quite like you do.
Everyone needs someone like that in their lives.

Lucky, lucky girl am I.

You never cease to amaze and inspire me.
You will always and forever be my Sistah.

Happy birthday, my dearest friend.
I love you.

Whoa Dere.

So, Tuscaloosa is being EVACUATED?

Did I mention that my best friend lives there?
Because she does.

Apparently, the windows in her house were BLOWN OUT.
What the heck, Mother Nature?

In case there was any sort of question as to the validity of this, here's a picture of her and a family friend being evacuated from their neighborhood (which was tweeted by The Weather Channel! Celebs!):

Stay strong, Bama.

Update:

We lost.

I'm thinking of a four-letter word.
It starts with F.
And it is not FAIL.
Although that might be appropriate.

Coming to You Live...

..from the seventh game of the Stanley Cup Quarter-Finals.
In my living room, of course.
I choose to post because I am FREAKING out right now.
It is almost midnight, and we are literally screaming at the television.
I need something else to focus on, or I might self-destruct.

Do not ever, EVER question my love for the Blackhawks, or this sport.

PS- Corey Crawford is soooo money.

Sunday Inspiration

from here.

This Might Just Be...

...the cutest video ever.

<br/><a href="http://www.bing.com/videos/watch/video/penguin-loves-to-get-scratched/20o232tg?src=v5:embed:&fg=sharenoembed" target="_new"title="Penguin Loves To Get Scratched">Video: Penguin Loves To Get Scratched</a>

A thousand times, yes.

This is what a healthy relationship looks like

Via text.

Boyfriend: Next time you come over, can you bring my clothes.

Me: Yes. Is this your way of telling me we're breaking up.

Boyfriend: No. This is my way of telling you I have no lounging clothes and I think you may be a hoarder.


So what?
So maybe I have three pairs of his sweatpants and two sweatshirts and four t-shirts and two pairs of basketball shorts?
Like that should really make *that* much of a dent in a person's wardrobe.

Have you seen this?

You're welcome.

In with the In-Crowd

You guys.
I just got an e-mail telling me inviting me to join Pinterest.
Do you know what that means?
I'm IN.
I am totally a cool kid now.

To celebrate?
A picture.

from here.

Yes.

Sunday Inspiration

from here.

Sunday Inspiration

from here.

Yes.

from here.

An Empty Bookcase

A few days ago, my Mom asked me the name of the last book I read.
And you know what?
I couldn't remember.
Translation = THAT SUCKS.

So, I'll make ya'll a deal: you suggest some titles to me, and I shall read them.
Okay?
Okay.
Read: I am soliciting some advice from you, Internets
Particularly if your name is Lizzie or Molly Beth.
Anyone else is welcome to participate, as well.

As of this moment, I have A Wolf At The Table on my nightstand.
Any other brilliant ideas?

I know I can count on you guys...

from here.

Another Obsession?

So.
It's not as though I need another internet-related obsession.
I'm sure we've already established this.
See, that's what I thought.
Until I discovered this.
Oh, Pintrest.
Where have you been all my life?

I haven't quite figured it out yet.
Basically, it's just a bunch of awesome people posting the awesome things that they find on the internet. And in life, I guess.
Apparently, it's pretty exclusive because I requested an invite via the website, and promptly received and e-mail saying that the site was "still in private beta."
Whatever the heck that means.
So for now, I am relegated to simply perusing the coolness of others.
Which is okay for the moment.
Until I get sick of it.
Or the website decides to be in "public beta."
Whatever the heck that means.

In any event, here's some neat-o things that I've found today!

from here.
Dinner!

from here.
Heaven!

from here.
Agreed!

from here.
Where my peeps at?!

from here.
I could probably handle this!

from here.
If anyone needs me, I will be here!

from here.
Yup!

from here.
I love love LOVE this bracelet!*
*And my mother would definitely kill me dead if I bought it.

from here.
I could get down with these.

from here.

BABY HIPPO!

from here.

A graphical comparison of the amount of ink used when printing with eight common fonts!

Admit it.
You're kind of in love now, too.

Wisdom

from here.

"Faith is what you have in things that don't exist. Your awesomeness is real."

-Homer Simpson.

Sunday Inspiration

from here.