Just call me Malibu Barbie

So, no one should have to view the paleness that is me in a New Years dress. With this in mind, I decided that a spray tan would be the perfect solution (being that I'm making a serious effort these days to NOT get skin cancer.) So, I make the appointment for after work yesterday and headed over there well aware of the uncomfortableness ahead of me. Not only is it not fun to stand half naked in front of a stranger, but it's even worse when it's someone you used to work with. I told her I was going for a pretty natural tan- considering i'm blond and pretty fair skinned to begin with. After she finished the application she had me stand in a standup bed for 3 mins to dry. While in there, I held onto the poles to keep my arms away from my sides. Unknown to me, these poles were covered in spray tan solution from other people. Today my hands look like i've been playing in clay. As for the rest of my body? I just got back from Brazil.

Yea, Santa!

So, as I blogged a few months ago- I've been wanting a new fancy camera. and Santa was good to me!! I got the Nikon 24x zoon P90. I.LOVE.IT! I took Sean to the park to snap some shots of him- here's a few:

"Let's Grab A Drink: The Chronicles of the Recovering Frat Boy."

During my five-year college reunion in May, I snuck into my old fraternity house, which at the time was being used as some sort of community service dorm. As I wandered about taking pictures, a student approached and asked politely, “Excuse me, who are you?” Instinctively, I turned around and yelled menacingly, “Who the fuck are YOU?” The girl scurried off, but the incident made me introspective. Here I am, twenty-seven years old, with a relatively successful career, regular car insurance payments, and pillowcases that match my comforter. Yet at the same time, I can’t drink one beer without drinking twenty, I can’t converse with a girl without trying to take her home, and I can’t even step foot in a fraternity house without immediately regressing into an asshole. While college is many years behind me, vestiges of the experience remain deeply ingrained in my personality. Welcome to the world of a recovering frat boy.

Of course, I’m not the only one. There’s an entire faction of twenty-somethings out there who live seemingly mature lives - but only to the naked eye. Take my friend Mike, a successful software developer in New York whose downtown apartment has actually been passed down for years to successive generations of graduates from his fraternity like an off-campus party house. Or my buddy Justin, a writer here in L.A. who is looking to move to a new place - but has yet to find one big enough to fit his beer pong table. Unfortunately for him, “Hardwood floor quickly soaks up cheap beer” is generally not an amenity typically found on Craigslist.

Recovering frat boys aren’t required to have ever been Greek. In fact, they don’t even have to be boys. On average, every other Evite I received from girls over the past year has been for some sort of elaborate costume/theme party that reminds me of sophomore year. If you’re a strong, independent woman in her mid-twenties who is still throwing parties entitled Pimps & Hos, Forties & Hos, or Golf Pros & Tennis Hos, you are most definitely a recovering frat boy. Dressed like a whore.

To me, the phrase, “Let’s grab a drink” is both the rallying cry and secret password of the recovering frat boy movement. For some reason, no one uses that phrase until they’ve graduated college, and then they use it so frequently that it becomes virtually devoid of meaning. If you really think about it, you only actually grab a drink with about ten percent of the people you say that to. Of that ten percent, most think you literally want to have a solitary cocktail and exchange pleasantries or discuss current events (these people are often married or lawyers). The remainder - who you quickly recognize as kindred spirits - take “grab a drink” to mean “play beer pong and find that party where chicks are dressed as tennis hos.

Why is it, then, that so many of us, whether subconsciously or not, have adopted this quasi-Peter Pan lifestyle? These days, it’s no longer, “I won’t grow up.” It’s more like, “OK, I’ll grow up, as long as I can still throw up once a weekend.” I think the answer is simple: because we can. The world is changing. Getting married in your twenties is no longer the norm; in fact, those unfortunate souls who do are now outcasts, scorned and shunned, spit on and kicked to the side of the road by the rest of us single folk. And that means we now have more time to live our lives the way we want to and, most importantly, have evolved the ability to do so while still excelling in the adult world. People ask me all the time how long I can continue calling myself a recovering frat boy. Those people are usually sober and annoying. And my response is always the same: “Who the fuck are you?”

I recently met a chick a few years older than me and we got to talking. She mentioned that before moving to where I live, West Hollywood, she had lived in Malibu for ten years. As she continued, I got distracted because I realized that I have never done anything for ten years, let alone live in the same place. I think that’s another important aspect of recovering frat boy culture: transience. We are always on the move because we’re not ready to be held down. This can be both exciting and annoying (who wants to keep finding room for that beer pong table?). For me, though, it’s heartening to know that whatever city I’m in, I can always find friends and fans who like to work hard and play harder, often to the point of blacking out, sometimes while dressed as a golf pro or tennis ho. To you I say, “Let’s grab a drink.”

by Aaron Karo, courtesy of P.A.P.
(Emphasis mine.)

bored

It is Christmas Eve Eve. I am sitting at my christmas light covered desk staring into space. Going on hour 8 of staring into space. The office is a complete ghost town. No, seriously- like the only people here other than me are the jocks who are on the air right now. There is only so much wordmole I can play on my blackberry to pass the time. I've comtemplated leaving early- but it's always those times when someone seems to need me. Where's Jenn? Oh yeah- she went to lunch....4 hours ago. My loafer clad boss has been making the rounds through the building. I suspect just to see who's actually lame enough to work these days before Christmas. I I can hear those loafer's comin from a mile away. This is a skillset unlike any other that I'm acquiring on these slow days.

This is my Winter song to you..

So, It snowed! We generally don't get much snow other than the occasional ice storm here in Greensboro.. so 4 or 5 inches felt like a blizzard! Yesterday started the beginning of "last-minute-shopping-palooza." I have just a few more things to pick up and then I will officially be done... phew. With three days to spare! It was a baking and crafting weekend at the Bliss house, complete with baked goodies for co workers and friends and even hand painted ornaments. Come onnnn Christmas!


I have been listening to "Winter Song" for like three days straight and can't stop. It's such a pretty song!

get on my feet.

Had I seen these, I may have rethought the blue and black dress I got for New Years. LOVE these.

Who's feeling festive? me!

Crafty McCrafterson

So, every year, my family draws names and does home made gifts for eachother given on Christmas Eve. We've been doing it for about 9 years now. Why yes, we did steal the idea from 7th Heaven. No shame here.

Over the years, we've discovered quite a few unknown talents. I've made bowling pin snowmen, light bulb snowmen ornaments, oil paintings, picture collages to name a few. Oh, and not to mention that wierd phase I went through where I did a hand drawing of everyone's house for them. Lack of creativity? I think so.

This year, I picked my Grama. She will be receiving a hand painted decorative plate with a picture of her and I in the center.

You need craft ideas? I'm your gal.

Why Men Shouldn't Take Messages

Skeleton Key Ring

Don't ask me why, but I want this.

Entercom Remix

Things NOT to do at your company Christmas party:

1.) Take one too many shots RIGHT before you're going to perform a dance routine in front of your entire group of coworkers and bosses.
2.) Steal the microphone from the DJ when Apple Bottom Jeans comes on and proceed to rap the entire song.
3.) Perculate. And even better, have a perculator dance off. Especially when you only have one move to compete with.
4.) Use the "Brent-head" to pose with in pictures. It is NEVER a good idea to give kisses to a paper cut out of your bosses head... and an even worse idea when you catch his wife watching you do it.
5.) Tell the entire party someone has stolen your camera- to then find out it has been in your pocket all along.

OH and PS- We totally won the talent show! Woop Woop!

If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it.

Seeing as how my sister informed me yesterday that my blog has been lame lately- I figured I'd better give it an update.

Tonight is our company Christmas party... themed "Entercom's got Talent." Oh yes. There is a talent show portion. Of course, I couldn't pass up THAT opportunity. However, being that my only given talent in front of a crowd is to stand and look akward, reinforcements were needed. There are 7 girls doing what we call an "Entercom Re-mix." It's a mash up of songs to represent our 6 radio stations. It's goes a little like this:

Oh Happy Day-
Boot Scootin Boogie-
Single Ladies-
Vogue
Thriller

We have been dancing our butts off every day for about two weeks to get it right. There is some comedic relief through out the routine that surely will win us the $500 1st place prize. The best part is that no one knows we've been working on this... oh well, and the fact that our 70 something year old receptionist (mentioned in a previous post, "crazy Connie") will be doing the single ladies dance along with us.

Look out co workers. We got this.

Megan Fox

I don't care how pretty you think she is.. That thumb toe is whack.

Thanksgiving in NY

We spent the Thanksgiving holiday in New York where my entire family on both sides lives. I'm pretty sure that they thought my mom and I were crazy for being excited over snow, when they get so much of it every winter. It was a quick turn around trip for a 12 hour drive, but it was worth it to see family I haven't seen in about 6 years.