Think Before You Shrink

Ladies - A word of advice I firmly stand-by and share with my nearest and dearest girls...

Think before you wear tights on a date.

I am ALL for wearing skirts on dates. They are fun, flirty, feminine and usually quite comfortable.

I am also all about tights, for several reasons really:

- They suck us in and smooth us out
- They keep legs warm in the winter
- They are another great accessory we get to play with

However, if there is any chance you will be ending the evening with something more than a vertical kiss... think long and hard about what that could lead to.

Tights might look pretty darn cute under a skirt but I don't know many people that look good in tights alone (Lindsey Lohan... if you are reading this that goes for you too!!) Most girls know the smoothing is an illusion. A displacement of pudge. Tights (and Spanxx for that matter) are miracle makers not magic. Nothing actually disappears.

See where I'm going with this....

Skirt comes off and the extra few cookies you ate at the holiday party are not so cleverly hidden. They are now hanging out just between your bra and the band of your tights. Which, if you're petite like me, are most likely jacked up high enough to be not only unflattering, but also reminiscent of the way your first grade teacher wore her pants.

So now you've lured your hot date home, enticed him enough to create "interest" and now you look like the woman who taught him to read and wash his hands after using the bathroom. I'm pretty sure you'll be kissing him goodbye instead of good morning.

It's a crash not a crush

Friday night. January. At home. On my couch. ALONE. I don’t know if I am more excited by the new episode of Friday Night Lights (darn that writers strike) or my first two movies from my new Netflix subscription – The Break-Up and Notes on A Scandal.

You see… I am hibernating. I am taking a break from life. Specifically my social life and any chance I could have at interacting with the opposite sex. If it was not completely freakish I would hang a sign above my head that says… Keep Out.

Over the past few weeks I’ve realized I don’t have crushes. I crash. Really crash and burn is more like it. And this recent burn was just the compounding incident that sent me over the edge.

A few weeks ago when I realized I was an accidental dirty mistress thanks to McDreamy’s lying, cheating ways I swore to my mom that I was done. Her hopes of ever having grandchildren were probably pretty close to toppling after that incident. But no… That very weekend I met someone. He was a friend of a friend. Highly recommended. Handsome, fun, smart, blah, blah, blah. A few great dates. Cute texts (ugh… I hate texts and I was still excited by these!). I hadn’t felt this hopeful since Brittney’s second attempt at rehab. Finally, I had met someone who had promise. There were no warning signs (namely no girlfriend, stalker tendencies, or abnormal attachment to his boys) he followed through when he said he’d call, he wanted to meet my dog (sigh)… Needless to say, I was crashing. Hard.

I think crush implies a slow process. Have you ever tried to crush a can? It takes some effort and is deliberate. People usually plan on crushing something. When you crush you make room for something else. How often do you hear of people being involved in crushing incidents?

A crash is quick, unexpected and unplanned. It takes your breath away and scares you a little. Your adrenaline flows and the moment or moments are relived over and over. Time is spent trying to figure out at what moment it suddenly happened. Crashes are dangerous. And my love life is never safe from the disaster that is a crash.

You know where this is going right? I crashed and now I’m feeling the burn. Over the course of a weekend I went from feeling giddy to grumpy. Mr. Eligible Bachelor went from dreamy to devilish faster than you can say Happy New Year. And the “happy” was most definitely missing from my Happy New Year. Could the cliché that she was younger and blonder really be any more annoying?

So this grumpy chik got herself a subscription to Netflix, is going to have the cleanest apartment in the city, put her new KitchenAid mixer to good use and tonight I might start working on the Keep Out sign for my front door.

Hi my name is Chik and I'm an addict...

I’m an addict. I can’t help it. Sometimes (who am I kidding… every time I type the darn website into my browser) it draws me in. I think… oh I’ll just read one and then next thing you know I’ve virtually attended a dozen or more complete strangers weddings! It’s like late 20 something, single girl crack. I look at the pictures, read their proposal stories, steal ideas for my own wedding one day in 2057, admire their bling, think how I would never wear a gown so unflattering. Why do I care to look at strangers weddings? Sometimes I get tired of going to weddings of people I actually know (this is probably because since I’ve been single I’ve attended 73 weddings all alone). Geez… half the time I think I might just elope so why can’t I help myself? Just like other addicts, I’m just trying to get a fix. Maybe to fix the afternoon if I’m feeling lonely or bored. It’s like a little pick me up minus the calories. Or maybe because I’m a glutton for punishment and I just want to be sure I know when The Troll is engaged so I can stop wondering (all other serious ex’s are engaged or married already). So you see… it’s not just stranger weddings I’m fascinated with. I’ve also discovered yet another way to internet stalk people from my past. First there was google, then myspace, then linked-in for professional reasons, but theknot.com is really in a category all its own. I can type in the bride or grooms name and viola… I have discovered their wedding webpage. Let’s be honest. Half the time I google someone it’s to figure out what’s new in their lives. And when you’re my age most often the “new thing” is marriage (or babies – yay my first girlfriend just had one last week). Why play around on google to find someone’s status when you can simply go straight to a wedding source. So… with all this site has to offer how can I not get sucked in just a little bit?

My poor friend E is usually the recipient of my latest find on theknot. Today I sent her a sweet proposal story (of a stranger nonetheless and she had to ask "who are Tricia and Chad again??"), a few weeks ago she was privy to find out a random guy from college, who was DEFINITELY not the settling down type, was now in fact married (cute proposal story included on that one too). I believe that discovery led to approximately 3 hours of e-mailing about certain people we could not believe were married. And then ironically enough, I ran into said dudes old roommate that same weekend and had to play dumb about the marriage knowledge. And that my friends is precisely why I know this is a true addiction. Addicts are usually in a state of denial. And until today I’ve been there. Consider this my first step towards cleaning up my life. I am on the path towards recovery. I’m hopeful by this spring I will be free to find out about life and weddings the way god intended… via text.

Pumpkin Bar Bumpkin

In honor of my very favorite time of the year (the build up to football season is a close second)
I want to share a recipe I tried this past weekend (to take to a football party of course). These will be making an appearance at my family Thanksgiving Fun Fest!

These are Pumpkin Chip Bars and they are quite tasty. In fact, someone who tried one (or 5) let me know these made it onto his "top three desserts" list. Wow!

As always I've made some slight enhancements to the original recipe (Martha Stewart baking cookbook from last winter). Instead of using Pumpkin Pie Seasoning I mixed my own (cinnamon, allspice, ginger and nutmeg) and I replaced the suggested semi-sweet chocolate chips with milk chocolate. Also - my friend decided to add cream cheese frosting to a few and that seemed to go over really well!

Ingredients
Makes 24.
2 cups (spooned and leveled) all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon pumpkin-pie spice
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 large egg
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup canned pumpkin puree
1 package (12 ounces) semisweet or milk chocolate chips (I prefer milk chocolate)
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line bottom and sides of a 9-by-13-inch baking pan with foil, leaving an overhang on all sides. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, pie spice, baking soda, and salt; set aside.

With an electric mixer, cream butter and sugar on medium-high speed until smooth; beat in egg and vanilla until combined. Beat in pumpkin puree (mixture may appear curdled). Reduce speed to low, and mix in dry ingredients until just combined. Fold in chocolate chips.

Spread batter evenly in prepared pan. Bake until edges begin to pull away from sides of pan and a toothpick inserted in center comes out with just a few moist crumbs attached, 35 to 40 minutes. Cool completely in pan. Lift cake from pan (using foil as an aid). Peel off foil, and use a serrated knife to cut into 24 squares.

New Driver

Wow… a month and a half with nothing. So this is what happens when you make a personal vow to blog about bad dates and then suddenly have none. It’s not that I’ve been having no dates. Just no bad dates. Wow… I can’t believe those words were typed on a keyboard anywhere close to me! I’ve actually been going on good dates with a boy. “The boy” as my mom and I have taken to calling him.

A few words about my mom. She knows me. I mean REALLY knows me. It’s creepy sometimes. She just gets me. Gets it. And remembers EVERYTHING (except of course the smattering of childhood memories I swear to have that she claims never actually occurred – hello riding on the fire truck in South Carolina). Anyway… I digress. My mom has learned over the years that she must absolutely not put a label on my love life. Other than labeling me as her eternally single and fabulously independent daughter. Those labels I can handle. The labels about my love life I cannot. Over the years she has graciously adopted my favorite term of “just being.” I can be someone’s friend, I can eventually (a way far off until I feel totally ready to commit to that kind of title eventually) be someone’s girlfriend. The in between period is called “just being.”

Through this most recent “just being” phase I’ve discovered something. The dating game is a lot like learning how to drive. And refresher courses should really be mandatory for those of us who temporarily had our license suspended.

There are signals and signs. Some are mixed and confusing and you always pray “Wrong Way” isn’t referring to the lane you’re driving in. Accelerating and breaking are common. Sometimes it’s only in anticipation and other times it’s in response to your fellow drivers. Either way… whiplash is no fun. I think about some of my friends who were so eager to hit the open road. While I on the other hand, was a little more cautious, thinking how scary it all seemed. I took it nice and slow and avoided the major highways until I felt safe on the backroads. Eventually we all got there, some faster than others. There those “rules” everyone knows to follow that are glaringly obvious like a giant Do Not Enter sign straight ahead. No talk of religion or politics or god forbid ex’s. Remember Do Not Enter is there for a reason. Sometimes if you go down that path you might get stuck. In the end the worst thing that can happen is feeling like you’ve been hit by a Mack truck or have reached a Dead End.

Learning how to drive isn’t all bad though. When you do eventually hit the open-up road it can be really fun. Wind in your hair on a beautiful sunny fall day can’t stop smiling kind of fun. You want to show off your new car to all your friends. And you can finally forget about that old model you thought was great at first but turned out to be a real lemon. It’s a great car for learning but not a keeper.

Just like we learned in driving school… sometimes we stall and just need a battery recharge to remind us how to get going again.

Prince Not-So Charming

So who decided that Prince Charming was the gold standard of all princes? Did this person ever actually try to date? I'm pretty convinced she didn't. Because if she spent anytime outside of whatever fairytale she was living in, I'm sure she would realize Prince Charming a) is damn hard to find b) is charming for a reason.

In my experience charming means one thing...

He's had time to hone his charming skills and it wasn't by spending time with old ladies at tea parties.

The most charming person I know is a guy I went to college with. He's smart, handsome, clever, flirty and could basically charm the pants off anyone. And I'm pretty sure plenty of pants have fallen as a result. Charm takes practice ladies. It is not the natural state of most men.

So Cinderella basically gave it up to a man-whore. Kind of ruins that Disney movie for me. Really, should little girls all over the world want to meet a guy who doesn't even have a name? Haven't they seen Dateline on Friday nights?! And honestly, what guy is that into shoes anyway?

Let's be realistic, we've all met Prince Confused, Prince Non-Committal and Prince Creepy. Those guys are running around all over the place. They pop-up everywhere. I've experienced all they have to offer and so have you. And no one I know has even gotten a pair of uncomfortable shoes out of it.

So why do we keep looking for our own Prince Charming, even though conventional wisdom would tell us to give up? The same reason we keep buying hair products and expensive face creams. We are convinced that one day we will find the one that actually works and makes us realize what we've been living without for all these years.

It may feel like an urban legend, but I have friends who have found it (hair products, face creams and the guy!). They give me hope. I make them tell me their own fairytale whenever I feel like mine is only a bad joke with a lame punchline. They don't let me give up. They remind me that their Prince Charming is actually Prince Makes Me Laugh and Breakfast in Bed or Prince Squishy In The Middle But Always Thoughtful.

He's out there somewhere. In my case he's probably holding a running shoe instead of a glass slipper.

The Texter Comes A Callin'

Okay first of all sorry for so much dead air-time. I suppose if this were radio station I would lose my sponsors. I have no sponsors (and apparently no fans - hello people leave me some comments so I know this isn't a secret journal that just happens to be online!) so I can continue with my story....

So imagine this - last fall, went to a local bar with a girlfriend for the World Series, met two "dudes," one almost started a fight protecting my friend from a creep who claimed he wanted to impregnate her (isn't this a romantic story?), dude number two claims he had been admiring me at the gym for months (side note - keeping your headphones on at the gym apparently does actually work to keep creepy guys from talking to you while you are sweating and trying to workout), he got my number and never really learned how to dial it.

You see friends - this is how I met "The Texter"

Our first date was fine, we went to a bar and watched football. He wanted to do shots which was slightly weird, but I was in my "I am not actually ready to date anyone, I simply want attention from the opposite sex phase" so it was okay with me.

Date number two was my turn to plan so we went to the art museum for a cultural event and then had dinner. He seemed to enjoy himself and I believe there was a brief smooch at the door (part of this phase was also the invention of my "vertical kissing only" rule - more on that later).

Sadly, somewhere after date number two and oh.... about 2 hours ago, "dude" turned into "The Texter" - a guy who was incapable of dialing a telephone and asking me out like a normal person.

"dinner 2morrow"
"what u doin"
"hi"
"u around"
"watchin idol"

I had to quickly learn how to decipher mixed signals, poor grammar and complete ignorance to punctuation. In person he flirted and was chatty, then over the phone he was like a 14 year old boy talking to his buddies.

For months our "relationship" continued in a bizarre back and forth texting only dialogue. The guy NEVER called me. I don't know about the rest of you but I have a hard time getting to know someone when they only way they communicate is in 3 letter words and acronyms. I am a fairly sensible gal and appreciate the beauty of the brief text message, but seriously guys... texting is LAZY! If you are that lazy when you are trying to woo me, I don't even want to know the extent of your laziness. It got to a point that I would blatantly refuse to go out with him if he didn't actually pick up the phone and ask me properly (needless to say we didn't go out very often).

So I moved away and continued receiving an occasional text over the next several months. I heard nothing all summer and then tonight. BAM! A text. "hello how have you been?" I think my man drought has been detected all the way in my home state.

We communicated in our normal texting pattern and suddenly the unexpected happens. My phone rings. He not only learned how to use punctuation this summer, but he also learned how to dial.

His first comment was that he "can't take this texting anymore" so he decided to actually call. Our conversation was pleasant, mature and the longest I'd ever spoken to him over the phone. We promised to stay in touch.

It was sweet, "The Texter" actually seems to have matured over the past year. He went from debatable to dateable. If anyone is interested I can give you his number. Send him a text he'll love it.