Friday, September 19, 2014

My niece is ONE

The most perfect angel to ever grace the face of this earth turns one today! How did this happen? A whole year! If you follow me on Instagram (and if you don't, why not? I post lots of pictures of the baby and of food) you've probably seen way more pictures of her than you care about but it's my Instagram and I'll overload it with baby pictures if I want to so there. You can read about when she was born here. Is it weird that I'm not her mom but I posted a birth story? I DON'T CARE. LOOK AT HER FACE.
A year ago my sister texted me and asked if I was ready to meet my niece and I nearly peed my pants from excitement. But then we had to wait FOREVER because apparently babies can be stubborn and you don't usually get to choose when and how they arrive because of science or something. 

Look. I get my patience from my dad.

And then finally she was born and life was never the same again and did you know that it's possible for a baby's cries to sound like angels singing? I found that out one year ago today.


And now we're basically going to skip from one week old to like 10 months old because it's my party and I'll do what I want.

She's been wearing obnoxious head bows and wraps since the day she was born, so I think she thinks they're a part of her body and she never tries to take them off. She also leaves sunglasses and hats on her head because she's good at fashion.

And she's good at making funny faces.

And she's good at everything.

One time she and I were shopping in The Gap and she said, "Auntie Juel, let's go over here and look at these little girl clothes. Do you think this color complements my complexion?" And I said, "OMG Baby Kate you can wear whatever you want and it will look perfect." Then she took some clothes off a display and threw them on the ground and when I told her to pick them up do you know what she did? SHE PICKED THEM UP AND PUT THEM AWAY BECAUSE SHE IS A GENIUS.

She's great at selfies. She loves her tongue.

She has exactly zero teeth so she just gums her food to death.

If you ask her, "What does a doggie say?" She opens her mouth and grunts, "Huh, huh" and it's the most adorable thing ever.

She loves to open and close wallets and pull out allllll of the credit cards and gift cards and money because she loves dolla dolla bills.

She started walking at 10 months.

Apparently she can say "cheese" but I've never heard it so I don't believe it.

She likes to dance. If there's music playing she bounces up and down nonstop.

She loves it when I want to take pictures with her. LOOK AT THE ENTHUSIASM.

And she has the absolute best expressions of anybody in the entire world and she also has the chubbiest cheeks ever and it's adorable.

Happy birthday, Baby Kate. I love you!

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Fashion blogging is hard + my IWYP top

Do you know what's really hard to do when people in your real life don't know you blog? Asking people in your real life to take pictures of you for your blog. You see, I have this IWYP top (which you can find here) and I had this vision of me modeling it effortlessly in front of some foliage while I held a classy glass of wine in my hand. The first problem was that I didn't feel like a mirror selfie could do this amazing shirt justice, but I couldn't think of anybody who knew about my blog and wouldn't mind satisfying my vanity by taking 3,700 pictures of me. The second problem was that did you know it's really uncomfortable to have somebody take 3,700 pictures of you? I learned this the hard way.

I thought and thought and thought about who I could ask to take pictures of me. Then I remembered that about two weeks ago my friend Marisa (hi Marisa) had come over and I peer-pressured her into drinking like 3 ninja mimosas with me and then we were both talking talking talking and she got me to tell her about my blog so clearly she's the obvious choice to be my photographer. So if I need any more pictures taken in the near future, Marisa, I'm coming over so you should probably stock up on whatever that delicious popcorn was that I kept shoving in my face last night.
If I had been smarter I wouldn't have had her take these pictures until I was on my second glass of wine. (#hindsight) We went out to Marisa's back porch and she just clickclickclicked and I stood there like WHAT DO I DO WITH MY HANDS and then I started laughing, but not the cute adorable laughing like the girls on Pinterest. It was like, a loud guffawing and it gave me multiple chins. Then I'd just look at Marisa and say, "This is so awkward. I don't know what to do. I hate this. Are we done?" 

So now, I present to you the outtakes from my impromptu photoshoot with my IWYP top from Whitney Ellen.

I call this one, "Let me stare admiringly down at my glass of wine that I'm holding so very delicately in my dainty hands."

I like to lovingly refer to this one as, "Don't try to talk with your mouth full."

And then we have the one where I was trying to "CHEERS!" to the camera but my left arm was like "lol wut do u want from me I just hang here limp like dis."

And then we have the one where I multitask by both sipping and giving a loving gaze at the top of the fence.

There's also the one of me mid swallow. (Suppressing the urge to turn this into a dirty joke.)

This one is actually my favorite because I feel like I totally nailed two very important fashion blogger poses: the hand casually fluffing my hair AND the smiling stare down at the ground. Unfortunately the most perfect top ever is tucked a little bit into my high-waisted-mom jeans and it cut off part of the "E" in "WE" so it's a fail.

I was totally about to pick a wedgie in this one.

Then there's this one where I tried to fake laugh but then it felt so ridiculous that it turned into basically a chortle.

I think the biggest fail of all is that I ended the photoshoot with the same amount of wine that had been in it when it all started. WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?

In all seriousness though, I seriously love this shirt and you can go right ahead and order yours here. Did you do it yet?

And don't worry, after we finished taking pictures I drank more wine and ate kale balls and chips and told more people about my blog (HI KENDRA HI MICHELLE) because red wine makes me chatty.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Some pros and cons of living with my parents

I've been living with my new roommates (coughmyparentscough) for a little over a week now, and for the most part, it's gotten a lot better. Maybe that's due in part to the sneaktails I've been consuming? Just kidding, I haven't been having very many sneaktails. Why are you so surprised about that?? I'm a busy person and I can't be bothered to be mixing drinks in my closet all night every night. Plus I keep forgetting to refill my stash.Today I want to write more about living with my parents, but I don't feel like writing out a whole post so it's a list with GIFs, which is one of my favorite kind of posts to write. YOU ARE WELCOME.

PRO: They have cable slash Netflix on the tv. 
This is great because I can lounge in the La-Z-Boy (I googled it and google told me that's how you write it out which looks weird to me but whatever) and binge on Mad Men. I didn't have cable at my apartment, so I was stuck with movies or watching Netflix on my phone, which wasn't the end of the world but it sure made playing Candy Crush while watching Netflix a little difficult.

Con: I can't actually watch it whenever I want to. 
The thing about sharing a TV with people is that apparently it's frowned upon to hog the TV. And now that fall TV is about to start, this is going to be an even bigger problem. I'm pretty sure that when I want to watch Grey's/Parenthood/Scandal/etc I'm going to have to wait until my parents are finished with their reruns of Newhart or Mary Tyler Moore (you think I'm joking but I'm 100% not) and I'm definitely not impatient. I'm also not good at sharing. Oh and my parents blocked FX, which is the channel Sons of Anarchy is on. SO I can only watch that show if I can find it online. LIFE. IS. HARD.

Replace the dark haired gentleman with a flatscreen TV and you have a pretty good idea of my life.

Pro: Free food! FREE FOOD!
I hate grocery shopping and I hate cooking. So it's kind of nice to know that if I want to, I can have a home-cooked meal in the evening and all I have to do to get it is venture out of my bedroom for 5 seconds.

Con: Free food! FREE FOOD!
Living alone was great because the only food in the apartment was the food that I bought (and the box of pancake mix I found in the back of the cupboard that I mixed with coffee creamer to make the most amazing pancakes in the universe). I didn't have to worry about late night ice cream or popcorn binges, because I didn't buy that food. Now that I live at home it's a lot harder to avoid the 6 open cartons of ice cream in the freezer or the open bag of shredded cheese in the fridge or the boxes of cereal in the pantry. What's self-control and where can I find some?

Pro: Free rent.
Need I say more?

Con: Just because it's free doesn't mean I'm not paying.
I love my parents, but ... they're parents. They can be a little overbearing. I should get up for work at my 6:08 alarm, but yesterday I was so tired that I decided to let myself sleep in until 6:22. Well, when my dad got up at 6:15 he came knocking on my door "just to make sure you're not late for work!" This was me when he woke me up:

His intentions were pure and I appreciate his concern but I made it very clear to my dad that "I am an adult and I can get myself up and out of bed and thanks but if you ever do that again I cannot be held responsible for the words that come out of my mouth or the anger you will face." It was great.

Also, did you know I share a closet with my parents? They literally use three closets in the house just for their clothes. WHY DO THEY NEED SO MANY CLOTHES? (Oh lord, who sounds like the parent now???) Half of my closet has my dad's dress shirts in it... they're like, finger spaced out so they don't get wrinkled. Do you know what finger spacing is? I think it's something they do at clothing stores... you put a finger in between each hanger to make sure they're all spaced evenly. That's what my dad does with his clothes in my closet. It's only a big deal because I have to make sure I don't hide my sneaktail ingredients in his side of the closet. 

Other things that don't deserve GIFs, only bullet points:
  • My mother asked me if I could maybe get a white loofah because my hot pink one doesn't match the decor in her bathroom. Guess what Target doesn't have? White loofahs. COME ON, TARGET.
  • My dad likes to ask me when I'm planning on washing my car. He looks at it every day and he can't resist making a comment about it. Um Dad, if it bothers you so much, you have the spare key to Bruce Wayne and you are more than welcome to drive it over to the car wash and take care of that for me.
  • If I'm in the living room watching TV and it's past 9pm my dad likes to say, "Juel, you should really go to bed soon. It's late and you have to get up early." STAHPIT.
  • When I leave dishes in the sink for longer than .02 seconds it's like my parents can sense it and they wash them and put them away because they don't like to leave dishes in the sink.
  • My dad is a whistler. He likes to whistle and hum all the time and you know what I hate? Listening to people whistle and hum.
*YOU GUYS PLEASE READ THIS IF YOU THINK I'M JUST BEING A BIG ANNOYING COMPLAINER AND YOU'RE STARTING TO HATE THIS: I love my parents and I truly appreciate them letting me live at home. They know how I feel about all of these things (minus the sneaktails) and we joke about it all a lot. They are not unreasonable and I am just being dramatic. I'm not trying to be a whiny brat but sometimes you just need to vent. Plus, GIFs.

Monday, September 15, 2014

NOT a complete weekend recap, don't worry

Oh hai guys I'm showing up with like 48% brain power today because I had basically the most amazing weekend ever. Actually maybe not ever, it totally rivaled Yosemite but it was incredible nonetheless. If you haven't ever been to San Francisco you should probably put your walking shoes on and get your hiney over there because it's awesome! I'm going to post all the pictures later this week and you don't have to look at them, like I've said before it's mostly just a recap for me because I don't scrapbook and this is a way for me to document my life so in the future when I'm old and crotchety I can look back at 2014 and think of how fun I was when I was younger.

I have no idea where all of this is coming from. I'm mostly just typing and seeing what comes out.

So Thursday night I drove over to the valley and hung out with Keith's parents and sorry Becca, we did not talk about kangaroos at all. We mostly talked about food and San Francisco and Keith and it was great. Then on Friday Keith was there and we watched tv all day and ate a bunch of food and I cuddled with his dogs because guess who has two thumbs and loves dogs now? THIS GIRL. And not really all dogs, mostly just these two hooligans who wouldn't leave me alone ever.

I think taking pictures of myself when I first wake up is one of my favorite things to do. This is what I look like at 3:23am on a Saturday. #iwokeuplikethis

A few hot hair tools and some face painting later and we were out the door. It was 4:07am and Keith was wearing sunglasses. "You look like a douche," I told him. "That's the look I was going for," he replied.


I really wish I was better at taking pictures of cities. SF is BEAUTIFUL and i just don't feel like I knew how to capture it all. This was the best I did. Are you impressed? No? That's fine, but lie to me and tell me you are because I edited the crap out of this to make it look artsy and stuff.

I will never ever have such amazing seats at a baseball game EVER AGAIN. We were 6 rows back from 3rd base and I could basically see the individual hairs on the players' bodies and I probably could have spit on the dugout, which I really wanted to do because we were right next to the Giants dugout and I hate the Giants.

I kept photobombing the people in front of us (and I wasn't even drunk!) so then we all took a picture together and became friends and I never asked any of them what their names were because that's how personable I am. The guy next to me in the hat was from Canadia and this all happened.
Juliette [whispers]: Keith, that guy's from Canadia.
Keith: How do you know?
Juliette: Because he pronounced "out" like "oot."
Keith: So maybe he's just from the Northern United States. Has he called anybody a Hoosier?
Juliette: No, but I swear he's from Canadia. Now he's talking about hockey.
Keith: They have hockey in places that aren't Canada, Juliette.
Juliette: I KNOW but he's totally from Canadia. MAYBE HE KNOWS FAITH!
[I pull out my phone and proceed to text Faith]

J: I'm at a baseball game and the guy next to me is from a city right above Vancouver!
J: I think his name is S____ S_____. [inserts picture] Do you know him?
F: Oh my gosh I do know him.
J: Liar.
F: Not. Canada is not small you twat.

 I'm going to leave you with this other snippet from Friday. Keith and I went to this Mexican place to get some food and see those giants things in that metal bowl thing in the back? Here's what happened:
Keith: Wow, look at those giants tortilla chips!
Juliette: Oh, is that what those are?
Keith: [unable to speak because he's laughing really hard]
Juliette: Why are you laughing? Aren't those tortilla chips?
Keith: [still laughing] I'm pretty sure those are pig skins.
Juliette: No they aren't. Those are tortilla chips.
Keith: I promise they're pig skins.
Juliette: I'm pretty sure you're lying. Let's ask.
Keith: You really want me to ask?
Juliette: Yes, because I think those are tortilla chips and they just break them up into smaller pieces.
Keith: Ok, but you asked for this. [turns to the owner] She thinks those are tortilla chips. Can you tell her what those really are?
The Owner: ....really?
Keith: Yes.
The Owner: Those are pork rinds.
[Everybody in the entire restaurant proceeded to laugh at me while I put my sunglasses on my bright red face and left the restaurant as fast as I could while exclaiming WE'RE NEVER COMING BACK HERE AGAIN.]

The end.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Brain vomit. Macaroni and cheese balls. MIRROR SELFIE.

Did you know that when you move all your brain can think about is moving and you don't think about anything else not even your blog or wearing deodorant or changing the oil in your car or caring for your cuticles? I know that from experience because my week has been consumed with moving and cleaning. Every day this week after work I've gone over to my apartment and put more junk in my car and scrubbed the shower, vacuumed the carpets, mopped the floors, cleaned the mirrors, and done the toilets/dishes/counters/cupboards/are you bored of reading this yet because I'm bored of talking about it.

Oh and also every day I've gone into my completely empty old bedroom and just stared around and the emptiness and sobbed like a baby or a woman with extreme PMS (the latter of which I think is actually to blame for all the tears, TMI). But that's really neither here nor there, I just needed to be open and honest with you and tell you how overly emotional I've been this week.

I feel pretty bad for my parents, because their house is really clean and not cluttered and I moved home and was basically like HI GUYS THANKS FOR LETTING ME LIVE HERE FO' FREESIES NOW I'M GOING TO TAKE MY CRAP AND DUMP IT IN TWO BEDROOMS AND MAKE IT LOOK LIKE A TORNADO WENT THROUGH HERE NOW WHAT TIME IS DINNER?

Let's move on to something a little more uplifting, shall we? Want to know what I'm doing this weekend? No? TOO BAD because I'm going to tell you anyway. Keith and I are going to San Francisco (Francisco... Francisco... that's a fun word to say!) on Saturday to go to Alcatraz (the prison) and a Dodgers/Giants game. The tickets are his birthday present (for his birthday that was in May... better late than pregnant!) and I tricked my boss into buying them for me. SO. The fun part of the story is that we aren't staying overnight in SF, we're staying at his parents's house which is 3 hours away. That means on Saturday we have to LEAVE their house by 430am because we're definitely stopping for coffee and donuts and we have to be at Pier 33 for our boat to Alcatraz by like 815am. After Alcatraz we're taking a trolley to Chinatown and eating lunch or whatever there, and then doing whatever we want until around 5ish when we're heading to AT&T Park for the game, which starts at 605. What's that? You didn't need a timeline? TOUGH NUTS. The moral of my story is that we're going to be gone for almost 24 hours and I'm going to be tired and grumpy and sweaty and sometimes I'm not very nice when I'm grumpy so I've been trying to warn Keith that I'm not responsible for the things I say under deprivation of sleep.

He just laughed.

Want to know something funny? I had no intention of talking about anything I wrote about. Really, what I wanted to discuss is what should I wear??? The outfit I really want to wear is this:

Tribal print poncho/cardigan from In Bloom Boutique.
I actually really want to do a whole post on this poncho because I LOVE IT
but I need to find somebody to take pictures of me wearing it.
Until that happens, you're stuck with mirror selfies

Unfortunately, this isn't an option. Why? Because look at my feet. Those flats are absolutely not appropriate for walking around the hills of San Francisco for an entire day. Plus, they make my feet really really really sweaty and smelly (TMI AGAIN!) and nobody needs to experience that.I do think that cardigan would look fantastic in all of our artsy fartsy pictures, so I'm a little sad that I can't figure out a way to wear this outfit without making my feet hate me forever. So I'm settling for wearing this to work today.

If you look closely on the dresser you can see the cup in which I store my sneaktails. What's a sneaktail? That's what I call cocktails that I drink sneakily at my parents' house. Sneakily because of the "no alcohol" rule that my parents have. They also blocked FX so I can't watch Sons of Anarchy. But it's free rent so I shouldn't complain.

I think that's all the brain vomit I can stand for one day. Except I have to tell you that yesterday I was driving and I totally flipped out and almost started crying because I thought my a/c had gone out and I was like FIXING THE A/C IS EXPENSIVE THIS SUCKS! And I drove hyperventilating until I realized that the a/c wasn't broken, I just had the heater on. It doesn't get much smarter than this, folks. At least that didn't happen on the same day that I sat at a stop sign for a good 20-30 seconds waiting for the light to turn green.

The last thing I want to tell you is that the guy on my softball team who threw a ball to me at 1st base and beaned me on the shin so hard that there's still a bruise, lump, and numbness there (this was 3 1/2 weeks ago) felt so bad about it that on Monday night he gave me a box of fried macaroni and cheese balls to make up for it. I haven't eaten them but but I'm pretty sure once I do I'll have forgiven him completely because did I mention they are fried macaroni and cheese balls?

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to think about how today is my Friday and try to come up with topics to discuss with Keith's parents tonight while I'm hanging out with them waiting for him to get there.

The end goodbye thanks for reading.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Conversations with my new roommate

I spent the weekend moving back into my parents' house. For some reason I'm really really sad about leaving my little apartment. Like, yesterday maybe I just sat on the sofa and stared at the wall for a good 20 minutes and cried a tiny bit. My mom had really wanted to come over and help me pack and clean, but I had to tell her "no" because I just wanted to be alone with my apartment, because I am dramatic.

One of the things I loved the most about living alone was that I didn't have to talk to anybody. I could come home from work and nobody was there to ask me about my day or ask me my plans for the night, and I could just do whatever I wanted in silence (or with Netflix on in the background). Well, that doesn't happen at my parents's house because they're both talkers. I know it could be way worse, I mean, my parents wanting to talk to me is not a bad thing, but my attitude about this move is really horrible so every little thing is bugging me.

My dad is pretty sarcastic and one of the funniest people I know, and usually my conversations with him are really light and full of sarcastic remarks, which usually make me laugh. The following conversations did not make me laugh at the time but I made a mental note to blog them because maybe then I'll be more thankful that I'm able to live at home instead of just festering in the pit of my bad attitude.

When I was walking out the door to my car to bring some boxes inside...
Dad: Wait! Where are you going?
Me: ...just out to my car.
Dad: Now that you live here I have to know what you're doing AT ALL TIMES. Will you be gone long?
Me: ...I sure hope so.

Me: Dad, what's the WiFi password?
Dad: I'll tell you that when you give me your first rent check.

When I invited my dad to go to the grocery store with me...
Dad: [looking at my dirty car] Do you ever think about washing your car?
Me: I THINK about it all the time but on my list of priorities it's pretty lo-- what are you doing?
Dad: [changing the radio station WITHOUT ASKING ME] The Cal Poly football game is on and I want to listen to it.

At the grocery store trying to find a ripe avocado...
Me: Ugh, dad, we're going to Vons. None of these are ripe.
Dad: You want to go to ANOTHER grocery store?? Here, what about this avocado? No? This one? This one?
[He hands me about 8 avocados that are all hard as a rock, because he really doesn't want to go to the other grocery store that is RIGHT NEXT DOOR. The 9th avocado is ripe and delicious, which I do not tell my dad because #pride.]

On Sunday when I went to lunch with my parents and I got out of the car without letting my dad open my door...
Dad: You're supposed to let me do that for you.
Me: But it's faster if I just do it myself.
Dad: Does Keith open doors for you?
Me: Sometimes.
Dad: He should do it all the time.
Me: I don't want him to open my car door when I'm getting out because I'm impatient and it's faster if I just do it myself.
Dad: I need to have a talk with him. What's his email addres?