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the thankful post

I read Camie over at Wild Spirit all the time (favorite blog alert)…

…and one of my favorite things that she does is her happy list posts. Things that make her happy on a day to day basis, which is something I don’t do enough in my life — acknowledging how good I have it. So, in honor of the amount of turkey and potatoes and pie I’ll be eating tomorrow, I decided to put together

.a thankful list.

Because I am really, really, thankful for a lot of crap.

1. the Boowho gives me a reason, everyday, to keep going, to be a better person, to be the best person I can be for him, for his life.

Tada, it's a giant hole.

2. Coffee, and the Keurig machine that my mother donated to my office so I won’t spend as much on coffee.

3. Singing. Singing with my Dad. Snapchatting Car-aoke to GoldDust and Poof. My out of tune guitar. Music of all sorts.

Concert Singing with the Paternal

Concert Singing with the Paternal

4. the amazing, astounding, irreplaceable group of ladies: Alto, CoSi, FunSized, GoldDust, Poof, and SoccerGirlfor being the best supporting, texting, BFFing, shopping, coffee-ing, snapchatting group of girls I have the privilege to know and love.

All dressed up

5. Writing. Journals and blogs and letters and tweets and everything that gets me out of my head and onto something that listens and responds and accepts.

6. Photos, cameras, snapchat, and the DSLR my sister gave me that I don’t know how to use, and the giant arsenal of memories that I have because of all those things. Mainly the memories, because of all the other things on the list. But it’s nice to have a tangible memory too.

7. That family group of peoplethat I appreciate more and more the older I get — how lucky I am to have a loving, weird, dysfunctioning functional family.

8. Soccer. I don’t even care anymore that I’m not really that good, and probably definitely never will be. I have fun playing, and I have amazing friends that have come out of this team and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

9. this $1 zit stuff that actually really works. It’s make up of some sort. It kind of stings. But it totally works. Yay, working! Yay, clear skin!

10. Snow, and winter, and the whole, yay, magical season. I should be like this year round – more appreciative and thankful for everything around me. I really should, and I mean to be. But ugh, you guys. The snow falls, and it’s all magical and beautiful and shiny and I don’t even mind  that I live in Michigan and everyone, and I mean everyone drives like a chatchnugget. DON’T EVEN MIND. Michigan, you’re gorgeous.


On that note. Here’s to an excellent and overstuffed Thanksgiving tomorrow, for whoever and however everyone is celebrating.

Oh. But.

-1. Christmas Music. I am not thankful for Christmas music until after Thanksgiving is over.


Bette Midler titles all my wedding posts.

I was going to start by apologizing for like…being absent and things but then I remembered that all of my body parts everywhere are melting off of me because of this damn heat. Which must mean that it’s summer.

Yay, summer! And since it’s summer, that must mean that it’s wedding season.

Yay, wedding season!

My mailbox during this time of year.

My mailbox during this time of year.

Don’t get me wrong. I love all of you people and your marriage and your showers and your photos of you in a cornfield with a suitcase you just happened to find out there.

But damn it all, if you could just spread out the love a little bit. Everyone wants to do all their things at the same time and did you know that this is summer stressful for the poor sad single people out there?

Regardless of the fact that I am not in a relationship right now, weddings always stress me out. Or maybe it’s the wedding season that stresses me out. It’s like how in winter time, you’re all stressed wishing for summer, and in summer time, you’re all melt-y, waiting for the cool down. Now that it’s the season of weddings, I’m ready to go into hibernation and not shave my legs for a few months.

Reasons why I am grumpy about weddings in no particular order:

1. It’s all at once. It’s a season. 

My calendar basically looks like someone spat up on it. This is happening here. This is happening there. This is happening at the same time as the other one and it’s like TWO OF YOUR FRIENDS ARE HANGING OVER A VOLCANO AND YOU MUST PICK WHICH ONE YOU LOVE MORE. It’s like that time when Canada farted and snow went all over Michigan in the Snowmageddon of 2k12 expect instead of Canada, it’s your friends, and instead of Michigan, it’s your life, and instead of snow, it’s mountains and mountains of save the dates and magnets and calendar stickers and other shenanigans.

Wedding Season

(Although there was this really really cool save the date magnet I got that had the funky smartphone thing to take a picture of and when you took a picture it would AUTOMATICALLY add the date and time and location to your smartphone calendar. Except then I couldn’t figure out what to do with the thing that you’re supposed to take a picture of, and I didn’t feel like adding another app to my slow ass 4s iPhone so I just added it to my calendar the normal way and glare at the magnet whenever I pass the fridge)

2. You must get dressed and you must get dressed well and you must be able to stay this way for a long long time.

I am generally a low maintenance female, as far as I can tell. I woke up this morning and 8:25, brushed my hair and teeth, put on scrubs for work, then walked out the door at 8:35. That’s ten minutes of cleaning myself up — which I won’t lie, I’d rather be sleeping for.

But then, there are the “special events” of life. Don’t get me wrong, when I actually am all ready to go and I look nice and the make up looks good even though I probably stabbed myself in the eye with the eyeliner a few times and everything…then I’m fine.

But it’s the getting there. 

You have to have a nice dress, which is acceptable for where the wedding is, and when the wedding is. You have to have shoes that match the dress, but also are acceptable for where the wedding is and when the wedding is. This dress works for the wedding, but it matches those heels best, and the wedding is outside and you don’t wanna be the girl that is irrigating the lawn in her heels, so you have to find flats, but maybe that dress looks terrible in flats.

I over analyze.

This was at my old roommate 202's wedding. I wore stiletto heels. It was outdoors. In grass. And on the beach. The heels lasted approximately 5 minutes walking to the wedding, before I ditched them and went barefoot all night.

This was at my old roommate 202’s wedding. I wore stiletto heels. It was outdoors. In grass. And on the beach. The heels lasted approximately 5 minutes walking to the wedding, before I ditched them and went barefoot all night.

I’m so lucky I wear scrubs on a normal basis because otherwise I’d just probably be naked. All the time. Maybe with a hat on. I like hats.

3. To bring a date, or not to bring a date, and what exactly does a wedding date count as anyway.

FunSized recently went to a wedding as “the date,” with one of her friends, which ended in a handy little table setting labeled as such:


Mr. FunSized.

Shenanigans. There’s always the awkward of if you’re getting a plus one, and if you do, who do you bring. Will you have a  group of friends at the wedding to keep you company, or do you need a date because you aren’t sure who else you’ll know? If you bring a date, is it a date or is it just a you need someone to hold your pocketbook while you take photos all over the place? Then you need to find someone who’s reasonably capable of being social in a large party situation in case you get taken away, or if you happen to be in the wedding party and nobody wants the date like my prom date of Ought-Four.

For shits and giggles, here I am [again] in 2004.

For shits and giggles, here I am in 2004. This was not my date. This was my boyfriend. Long story.

Upon our arrival to the dance…

Prom Date: So, I don’t think I told you. I get panic attacks when I’m around large groups of people.

Me: …You mean like at a dance?!

But don’t worry, folks.

Come the big day[s], I will be nicely dressed, with an appropriate date [if applicable], arriving at the proper location because the save the dates are all saved in my phone already. I’ll probably cry, because my friend[s] are getting married and in love, and taking this amazing step to the next stage of their lives and —

I can’t even talk about it anymore, cuz I’m already getting a little choked up.

Oh, and let’s be honest. I can’t even wait for the receptions.

The greatest love stories of all time, and none of them are mine.

Lately, I’ve been talking with folks a lot about my parents. There are a lot of blogs with some great conversations with them, or by them, or involving them. My sister and I agree: they are the greatest odd couple there ever was, according to us.

Prime example of the parental love.

Prime example of the parental love.

Strangely enough, from this, a lot of you have been asking exactly how my parents met, and married, and created these wonderfully adorable half Asian babies. This really just leads me to thinking that all you people are working for Hallmark, and looking for the next Hallmark original movie. Which definitely could be my parents. You’re definitely not looking to steal my story. I mean, I have, what? Crying in bathtubs?

Yeah. I did that once.

I even illustrated it. With Crayons. Don't leave me with crayons.

I even illustrated it. With Crayons. Don’t leave me alone with crayons.

Anyway. That leads me to this week’s post. Everyone has some sort of great love story that they know and love. We’ve all seen The Notebook. If you are female and don’t say that you want to be Rachel McAdams circa Ryan Gosling slamming her against the wall all rain-soaked and horny then you are a lying chatch-canoe who doesn’t deserve a love story. Therefore I bring you, my top five most loved love stories ever. Because I’m single. And I can.

5. Carl and Ellie: if you don’t know who I’m talking about, you’re obviously not a Disney fan. They are all sorts of internet meme-things going around saying that Pixar made a better love story in five minutes than Stephanie Meyers did in four books. And they are all correct. If you didn’t cry during this opening part of Disney-Pixar’s UP, then you have no soul.

4. The Notebook: see above comment. Rain-soaked Ryan Gosling. Oh, and it’s an adorable movie with such a good love story [except for James Marsden]. #Myfavoritemoviequote was trending all over twitter last night, and despite all the assholes declaring that 21 Jump Street apparently has better quotes than Almost Famous or Dead Poet’s Society,  there was a hell of a lot of:

Not my favorite quote from the movie, but still.

Not my favorite quote from the movie, but still.

Nicholas Sparks better be happily married for the number of sappy love stories he writes for us, or I’m seriously going to egg his house.

3. Bobo and Cosi: No, you don’t know this love story. Because it’s not a love story in books, it’s one of those crazy things that actually happened in real life. My junior year in high school, I set up my best friend CoSi (back then, she was CoMc) with my friend Bobo for our fall homecoming dance. When I say “set up,” I definitely mean “forced into going so I wouldn’t feel awkward at said dance.” But  that’s not the point. The point is that they ended up dating. The point is that they ended up continuing to date all through high school, and into college, and I was privileged enough to be in their wedding two summers ago.  Bobo signed my yearbook after junior year saying thank you for setting them up. But really. I’m thankful for them for falling in love and staying in love. Maybe there’s hope for me yet.

First Dance

2. Rachel and Ross: I grew up with my favorite six friends and their coffee shop ploys. All ten seasons, I wanted Ross and Rachel to get together and stay together because I was convinced they were one of those TV couples that was just like real life. I wanted someone to dress up in a tux for me if my prom date didn’t show up. I wanted someone to sneak me into a museum for a romantic night under the planetarium. I wanted someone to be my lobster.

1. the hallmark story of how my parentals met and i was brought into existence (abridged version slash how i’ve heard it through the years): As I’ve heard it, my father had a friend who knew my mother. Mutual friend, normal introduction, right? Yes, except for the fact that my father was living in St. Louis and my mother was in Hong Kong at the time. Therefore…

You’re leaving me here, dear. Alone with all your letters.

…they became pen pals. Letter upon letter upon letter, enough to fill a few file cabinet drawers in my house, which my sister and I would later discover. And somehow through these letters, they fell in love. My father then saved up money to visit my mom where she was an au pair in Hong Kong — where they officially met for the first time. While he was in Hong Kong, he traveled with her to the Philippines, so he could meet her family, since it cost less to fly from there than it would to go from the states. And while they were there, they got married.

Fast forward, to another wedding in the US, to my sister being born, to me being born, to something like 28 years of marriage and counting.

Nicholas Sparks, back off. My parents’ real story kicks the ass of some of yours.

So, now you know. My top five most romantical stories. What are yours? AND are you super sad like I am that you’re single right now?

The World is Ending and I’m Turning 25.

So I just have to state how amazing my best friend/co-blogger really is. I’m so happy that I have her in my life to keep me sane and to keep our blog alive and well. Bravo, L.A.!!!

I apologize for my absence. Life gets going for me and I get writers block, making it hard to keep in touch.

This morning I received some snail mail from the Secretary of State. The state of Michigan politely reminded me that I’m turning 25 on December 23rd, and my driver’s license will expire. I do wonder if I have to renew since the world is ending on the 22nd. I will have to call customer service and ask. Maybe they have the answer on the ‘Frequently asked Questions’ section of their website.


I have been alive for a quarter of a century. Such a monumental moment. I have reached my quarter life crisis. How should I deal with this dilemma? Buy a sport car? Date a younger man? Get hair plugs?

No, none of these excite me so I decided to list the 25 things I have learned by the age of 25. Drum roll, please….

  1. A smile can get you a long way.
  2. If a guy says others think he is an asshole, then he is an asshole.
  3. Never regret paying for an expensive pair of jeans. No one will ever complain that your butt looks too good when wearing them.
  4. Pay attention to how a guy treats his mom. He will treat you the same way.
  5. Love as hard as you can. And never regret it.
  6. Nothing is ever final in life.
  7. Always be overdressed.
  8. Enter every room like you’re in technicolor.
  9. Find your signature perfume.
  10. Write down your goals. You will complete them if you do.
  11. Quit the job you hate. You didn’t want to be there anyways.
  12. Find a reason to laugh at the bad moments in your life, then you will only have good memories in your mind.
  13. You can live without the guy you thought you couldn’t. And you will be happier that you did.
  14. Kill your competition with kindness.
  15. Don’t date him if doesn’t tell you that you look nice on the first date.
  16. Asking questions is the most intelligent thing you can do for yourself.
  17. Always step out of your comfort zone. The mystery is the best part.
  18. Don’t date him if he doesn’t make you laugh.
  19. Your best friends are your true soulmates.
  20. Time is an enemy and a friend. Accept it.
  21. Start a dance floor wherever you go.
  22. Laugh at yourself before others can.
  23. Having a good hair day is like winning the lottery.
  24. Always apply more mascara.
  25. Look at the world differently each day.

After writing this list, I think I have found inner peace if the world does supposedly end on the 22nd of the December.

I’m ready to celebrate my life at the age 25. Who wants to join my party? But, I refuse to scream YOLO…