Archive for April, 2009

being “good”

If that wasn’t clear, let me make it so that it is. This should sum it up.

(As well as show off what was a very well manicured weekend).


The caption for this picture read “This could not be further from reality.” I know this caption to be correct. 

My dilemma, in being one who works from the comfort of my apartment, is this: how do you motivate yourself to be diligent when the only other “person” with you is a cat named Layla, who, curled up in an adorable little ball on your bed, makes you want to do the same?

I have always been an office writer. Funny how when I worked at a place with a Wii, an XBox, a slew of video games and a stocked kitchen, I was somehow more focused than I am in an apartment that has a tiny TV, no food in the kitchen (EVER), and at best a good selection of fashion mags. 


And then there is summer. Seriously, talk about a terrible time to go full time freelance.

Maybe it’s just me, but whenever this particular season rolls around and I should be writing, I’m usually daydreaming. When the sun is shining and summer dresses are on every block, all I can think about is doing the following:


Come on – that’s fair, right? Who doesn’t want a big margarita with their friends in the sun? And sure, maybe craving a nice frosty beverage at noon on a Wednesday is a little extreme, but hey – summer comes but once a year.

So it basically comes down to – how do you sit down and buckle yourself in when your home becomes the office, too? 

I know a lot of you are on the freelance boat as well, so this question isn’t meant to be cute and rhetorical. Give it to me, gang. I’m new to the whole work-from-home, full-time freelance experience.

Help your tiny friend, mmkay? 


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First things first – this dog can’t get enough of me. Clearly. 


I got up from reading the paper, and thought – if people can’t appreciate this, what has the world come to?

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the NFL draft.

Draft Day is like Christmas. You know you’re getting presents, but you hope to god your parents picked the ones you wanted.

(And, for the record, in what I can only describe as my very accurate opinion, the best present Eagles fans received in the past decade was Brian Westbrook.)

"Hello, Loverrrr." - Sex and the City

Hello, Loverrrrr.

So, on the subject of parents, here is the problem with visiting yours during the NFL draft: conflict of interest.

When are the Penn Relays ever worth channel flipping during the NFL draft? I’ll go with never.

Being that my father knows me, and is a huge football fan himself, I ask the question: WHY? Why would he ever think that the Penn Relays should take precedent over the NFL draft? And not even that, but he kept trying to explain the Penn Relays to me, and god love him, I was trying my hardest to care. But I never run, I don’t know anything about track or field, and frankly – I’m okay with that.

I just wanted to say, “Dad. We’re talking the NFL Draft, here. C’mon! You know I can’t multi-task, remember the Ritalin I lived on in high school? Have a heart!” But, being that he gave me life and I love him for it, I refrained.

Thank GOD for me that the relays were only on for an hour. Someone out there was looking out for me.


25maclin1904So the Eagles picked Maclin in the first round. I have to be honest; I’m semi-confused about this one. I agree that we needed a wide receiver badly – we haven’t had anyone solid since T.O. left – but he isn’t all that big, for starters. Weren’t there some other WRs that might have made more sense for us? We’ll see. Honestly, whoever knows until the players step on the field? I sincerely hope he rocks it out for us. 

This is where I have to come out with my embarrassing confession of the day. When the Ravens selected Michael Oher, whose story I saw earlier before the draft started, my heart was happy – despite my strong hatred for the Ravens. When I saw his tears of happiness, and heard his word of gratitude and dedication to his profession, I’m not going to lie – I teared up, too. Talent is nothing without character, and sadly, character is hard to come by in the NFL these days. (Thank you, Michael Vick for your outstanding contribution to society, by the way).


It’s probably safe to say I am the first person to ever cry during the NFL draft. 

From there on out, my only hope was that LeSean McCoy could hold on through to our 2nd round spot, which was 53.

He did.

Miracles happen everyday, after all.


Tomorrow will wrap up the following rounds. Can’t wait to see what other new talent we’ll recruit. And, on that note – FLY, EAGLES, FLY.

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I’ll come out and say it – I HATE flying.

One, there is always the “when to leave” gamble. Living downtown, I have two options: 1) Pay 35 dollars to take a taxi ride that is only fifteen minutes, or 2) Take the regional rail to the airport for 7 dollars for about the same amount of time. To me, this is a no brainer. But since the regional rail runs only every 30 minutes, it’s always a russian roulette of choosing between the two. If you take the earlier, you run the risk of a lot of down time – something I don’t deal with well. And if take the latter, and – god forboid – hit ungodly lines which leave you cutting it extremely close, your stress level is through the roof. Just deciding which train to take always leaves me in hysterics.

I will say, this time I chose the earlier train – with the good advice of my always supportive twitter community. But, I – as predicated – was through security in what I can only describe as 2.5 seconds, finding myself with over an hour and fifteen minutes to kill.

The tough question at that point was – do I grab the before-the-flight-drink that I have always found mandatory before the trek home?

On that note, I truly believe there is a reason there are so many bars in airports. And it’s not simply to kill time. It’s because airports kills us. Who doesn’t need a drink by the time they are through bag checking, security passing, and gate finding?

And airport security hasn’t made our lives any easier. This no liquids rule kills me, being a girl of many products that refuses to check her bag (if at all possible). I always have to hope that my mom has bought me the shampoo and conditioner I use, and shower gel I like – and god love her, she usually does. To those who think luggage doesn’t get lost, tell that to me two years ago, when I came home for my sister’s baby shower and was forced to wear a ratty ILLINOIS college shirt and soffe shirts. TRUE STORY.

And nevermind that I have to be sedated with xanex and a good cocktail to even go through airport security, let alone get on the plane. That always makes the actual process of all the forementioned easier for me mentally, but impossible physically. Trying to lift an overly stuffed suitcase is hard enough when I’m leaving my apartment in a sound state. Trying to lift it onto the xray conveyor belt and overhead compartment when I can barely feel my legs is another story entirely.

All in all, though – I survived this one. They had been calling for severe thunderstorms and it was clear skies when I left. Otherwise, its safe to say I would have been 2 extra xanex deep, a martini in, and pretty sure my boarding the plane would have been an experience that any of my friends would have paid to see.

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Here’s the thing. The “problem”, if you will: I’m a girl.

Despite all the beer drinking, sports watching, and occasional weekends roughing it out in the wilderness with the boys, I am a girl, through and through.

My love of clothes is not the issue alone. The problem is that I’m also fickle. And I know what you’re thinking – a girl who can’t make up her mind? Unheard of. 

So seriously – and I know this problem isn’t exclusive to the ladies, as I have many a male friend who can’t condense for a weekend trip – how do people make it work? I’ve been flying to Florida for years now, since everyone in my family abandoned ship and moved down there, and I have yet to figure out how to make schlepping everything you want to have into 2 carry on suitcases. 


On a sidenote, I did manage to fit all of my 6 fashion mags from this month into my suitcase, no problem. Clearly, I have my priorities straight.

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Yep – I’ve become “one of them”. And not in the good “I’m one of the people who won the lottery” kind of way, either. I recently found myself on the lovely, and ever growing, list of people who have recently been laid off. 

So how does one cope when they hear the words “I’m sorry, but we have to let you all go”? 

Well, as a writer who really didnt see the whole cleaning out my desk scenario happening anytime soon, I was completely unprepared – in every which way one can be. My resume hadn’t been updated in the year and a half I was there. My writing was all in one unorganized folder titled WRITING (so much for creative copywriting, huh?). And, to top it off, I was now entering the job market when unemployment was through the roof. 

I’ve decided in my free time – which, you would be surprised to know, you don’t have much of when you’re looking for new employment – that I was going to start the blog I’ve been hoping to for a year. With the 14 hour workdays now a memory of my past, I figured it was time to get in the saddle. Or so to speak. 

So, here goes nothing. I’m really figuring this one out as I go. A new adventure, if you will. 

    And on a side note, good luck to those who are also on the “holy shit – what now?” life plan. See this as a good thing. Reevaluate. This can be the moment you look back on as the one that changed your life for the better. Make it so that it is. 

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