LIFE

I have been so incredibly busy lately. School has seriously taken over (ZZZ), along with finally obtaining a driver's license (woot!), going on a brief vacation (R&R!), and generally just bumming around. I haven't had the time for sleep, let alone putting out consistent blog posts. Although, I do plan to make this blog more of a priority on my list.

Whenever I get really busy, I tend to neglect my health. Sleep becomes a luxury, proper exercise never happens, and the diet consists of fast food and soda. Since I've noticed how horribly I treat myself, I constructed a serious schedule on how to go about getting my health on track.

First up is sleep! 8-9 hours is my new goal, as opposed to the 4-6 I've been clocking in as of now.

Exercise is also a new priority of mine. Since I've given up soccer and dance as a kid, I never had any real physical stimulation. (Apart from sporadic trips to the gym, which would happen prior to major events in life). I aim to do at least 30 minutes of cardio a day, but my true goal is 45 minutes. (30 is just a more manageable number to start out with, so I don't give up before I try).

Food is another extremely important aspect to my health, which I just consume absent-mindedly. Aside from recent weight gain (about 5 pounds), which I noticed only after my jeans became a bit too snug for my liking, diet is seriously important to positive mental health and energy. So, salmon 3x a week (good for fighting inflammation in skin, and contains healty omega 3), lots of fruit and vegetables, and absolutely no soda!

That's the plan! Any takers?

Allergic to Spring: Support Group

Oh, Spring. A time for blooming flowers, warmer weather, and POLLEN.

As an allergy sufferer, I despise Spring. If it weren't for dry red eyes, a runny nose, constant sneezing, and an itchy throat, I'd probably fall in love with the season of change. But due to a never ending need to chug tea, pop Zyrtec, and OD on Halls, I can't say Spring's three months of torture are my favorite.

I realize that I am not alone in my suffering. While many are mesmerized by Spring's beauty, others are not as blinded by the deceptive little season. Surviving through the physical ailments that Spring brings, is a difficult feat not easily accomplished by oneself. Which is why I propose that a support group be started for those who hate Spring, and wish that Summer would follow immediately behind Winter. Seriously.

Lesson Learned: Transitional periods are so overrated. People would fair just fine if 95 degree temperature came directly after a snowstorm.

Consumerist Nutrition

Some things I may just need...

First up: Laura Mercier oil free Flawless Face kit. It's reasonably priced at $65, so I may just add this to my minimalist makeup collection.

Lastly: The beauteous Linea Pelle dylan tote in purple. Even though it's been reduced from an obscene $497, the tote is still a bit out of my comfort zone at $297.

Perhaps I just won't eat for a couple of weeks...

Can I Pay With a Peach?

A couple of weeks ago- 10pm on a Friday night, to be exact- a friend and I decided that a drive down to Florida sounds like a splendid idea. Now, take note, we've been considering a trip to the Sunshine State for months, but neglected to purchase airplane tickets or even secure hotel reservations. So, imitating the nature of gypsies, drifters, and free birds, we packed our bags in all of 20 minutes (didn't forget a thing, I'll have you know!), loaded the contents into her trunk, and made our way down the East Coast for some white sand and clear water.

The trip down was not so terrible, although it was slightly uncomfortable driving 10 hours straight in the back of a Jetta- twice. (We stopped once in Virginia and another time in Jacksonville, before finally reaching Clearwater Beach). Regardless, there weren't any noteworthy incidents on the way there and everything went quite smoothly. The trip back, however, is another story.

As we were crossing into Georgia's border, my friend could not stop discussing the "very aggressive" behavior of the state's police force. Apparently, she watched a cop show of some sort, or it might've been a documentary (who's listening?), about the amount of tickets Georgia's police dish out. Just as she was saying, "You have to be very careful with this Georgia. They ticket people like it's nothing", the sound of sirens filled the highway, and my friend let out one big F-bomb.

We had just passed a lot of traffic on the highway and Friend was very eager to resume driving at a 100mph pace, although at the time we got pulled over, her VW was running at a mere 91. While we did our best to be let go with a warning, "Come on! It's Easter Sunday, officer! You're ruining our holiday!", the Southern boy ticketed us like it was his job (Which it just so happens to be). Apparently, though, if Friend had been driving at 85mph or lower, no points would be issued towards her insurance. But, since she was over that limit by a good 6 speedometer points, Friend will now have to pay the ticket, and higher insurance.

I did ask the officer if he could be bribed with peaches, so as to put this whole ordeal in the past.Ha! Just kidding, but I thought it the entire time, so that counts for something? Right? Right?

Yet, I must say, I'm pretty impressed that my friend only collected one ticket on our round trip down the East Coast. I was bracing myself for at least a good three.

Lesson Learned: If you plan to speed, always have at least one car ahead of yours, so as to avoid being the one ticketed. And make sure it's not done within Georgia's borders.

Word to the wise: Jersey doesn't issue insurance points to out-of-staters (I know where I'll be doing my lawbreaking).

Tacky Trackie

That's the name that was given to me by a couple of middle-school mean girls in the seventh grade. Whores.

Apparently, they disagreed with my aptness for wearing brightly-colored tracksuits on a daily basis.But, really. Who could blame a 12-year-old youngster for experiencing a gravitational pull towards hot pink velour sweats? And don't even get me started on yellow terry cloth...

If you're concerned about the name, I think you'll be glad to hear that it thankfully didn't stick. Since then, I've developed what is obvious good taste in fashion (Note: Sarcasm). Alright, alright. I should really cut myself some slack. While I can go very wrong sometimes with the clothing choices, overall, I'd say I'm a pretty decent dresser.

My uniform attire is more often than not, a pair of jeans with an unassuming long-sleeve shirt, some form of wedge boots, and a pea coat. Now that the weather's heating up, I ditch the boots for a pair of sandals, flip flops, or Keds, while the pea coat is gone altogether. Basically, I aim to look as un-homeless as possible. Although, I can't say the same for certain celebrities (Mary-Kate, I'm looking at you!).

Since I am a human, there are definite lazy days (More then I'd like to admit to), but in general, I find my style to be aesthetically pleasing. At least, by my definition of aesthetically pleasing. I guess you'd have to find those girls to get a more balanced review.

I hope they're in jail now.

Lesson Learned: Avoid matching hot pink velour sweaters, to hot pink velour sweat pants, at all costs. If you must sport this combo., though, steer clear of middle schools with self-proclaimed fashion mavens.

Backseat Exhibitionist

Technically, if you take into account the events of yesterday, I'm, well,... an exhibitionist. I guess.

Disclaimer: Lots and lots of T.M.I coming up. You've been forewarned.

So, I keep very minimal track of my periods. By minimal, I pretty much mean none. I'm always a little bit surprised when the four weeks I get to enjoy of bloody-massacred-free underwear is up, and the time for tampon positioning and Midol popping begins. That being said, I'm almost always equipped with some form of menstrual-flow-stopping-device, partially due to my complete dismissal of keeping records in the period department.

Well, yesterday was an exception. I took a drive down to Connecticut with my sister and a female friend. All went well until we were 30 minutes into our 3 hr. drive home. At which point, to my utter dismay, Mother Nature reminded me of my gender's downside.

Tell-tale signs of beginning a period revealed themselves- lower back pain, weird secretions- you get the point. Anyway. I was at a complete loss. The girlie items I usually carry with me, including very vital tampons, were nowhere to be found. And, to make matters worse, the two people I was on my trip with, didn't have any on them either. So, what's a girl to do, you wonder? Hit up the nearest gas station, get propositioned for sex (it happened), avoid eye contact with creepy truck drivers, locate tampons, and drop the cash, STAT. Mission accomplished.

But. And this is a big but (No pun intended, honestly). I had nowhere to apply said tampons. The gas station restroom contained an excessive amount of fecal matter, and my posh spice taste was not having any of that. My sister kindly drove her car to a spot that was far from the bright lights of the gas station, but I was much too shy to get lower-body-naked there. So, I insisted, and I really mean insisted, that she drive down some shady, pitch black road, and allow that I drop drawers in peace. She obliged, although in retrospect, I really wish she hadn't.

If this post wasn't enough T.M.I for you, I trust that the upcoming section should suffice.

I now found myself in the backseat of an empty Corolla, of which, my sister and our friend eagerly vacated. Although they missed out on quite the show, a wide-eyed boy of about fifteen, was not as unlucky. Now, just do your best to imagine the scenario I describe. Picture me. On my knees. Doing a pretty bad job at squeezing into the gap that separates the backseat from the passenger seat. I nervously tear the bag of tampons open. I say nervously because it was about 1 in the morning at this point. I had just forced my sister and companion #2 out of the vehicle, and onto the side of a road, inhabited by wildlife and small-town killers. The latter, I'm not too sure of, but I'm the type to fear humans more than animals. Anyway. I'm almost done with the task that I set out to complete, when my attention is momentarily stunted by an oncoming pick-up truck, flashing extremely bright blinders (The street wasn't illuminated by lights because we were quite literally in the middle of nowhere).

Obviously, I turn my head to the left because bright objects distract me, and notice a young teen hanging his head out of the passenger window, mouth agape. I wasn't able to catch a glimpse of my face in any of the Corolla's five mirrors, but I'd bet my life's savings that it became tomato red. I'm not entirely sure that he really saw much of anything, considering how low on the car floor I had been, but who knows. Sister and friend returned to the car, bloody massacre in the pants was contained, and my flushed face gradually resumed mortal flesh tones.

Lesson learned: Always,always carry feminine hygiene products on a daily basis. Although, I doubt I'll be charting when to expect my monthly visitor anytime soon. Hey, I take baby steps.