Respect on the street in SLC

Good part of my day: When a stranger man stopped me on the street and told me I looked "so pretty and very fashionable" and started drooling over my polka-dot rain boots.

Best part of my day: Realizing that the man was gay. Now I was truly flattered.

Braces: My Worst Nightmare

Last night I wore my retainer to bed.... and I slept with it secured in my mouth the entire night. I can't remember the last time this has happened. Just in case you were wondering, my mouth has been throbbing all day. I can barely move my jaw. Maybe this means I should wear it more? Probably. Will I? Definitely not.
I have a love/hate relationship with my little pink retainer. I know that it serves me well in keeping my teeth nice and straight, but it also takes me back to those miserable afternoons spent lying on a moldy green plastic covered chair, holding back the tears and silently cursing my orthodontist for digging at my mouth and making my gums bleed, with FM 100 soft hits blaring in the background.
My orthodontist was a nut. He seemed like a normal guy at first, but after he impressed my parents at the beginning consultation, and they turned me over to his care, his true character was unleashed. He was literally crazy. First of all, the man never wore gloves when he worked on his patients. Never. If that wasn't bad enough, he had the hairiest fingers I've ever seen. I hate to get too graphic, but he would shove his bare (most likely un-sanitized) fingers in my mouth, and every time I choked on the inch-long hair. It was a horrific experience, to say the least. One that I wouldn't wish on anybody.
Not only did Dr. B lack all sense of personal hygiene, he also took absolute pleasure in hurting me, and all of his other adolescent victims for that matter. He always got this wild look in his eyes, and this devilish grin on his face when I cried out in pain. When my orthodontist appointment rolled around every month, I always hoped and prayed that my mother would forget, or I'd make up great excuses to get out of going. Sometimes, they actually worked.

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my very favorite holiday. Truly, it is. Ever since I was a little girl, I've adored it. The only problem that I have with this fine holiday, is the assortment of desserts that are consumed at the dinner table. I am not a pie lover. Especially not a pumpkin pie lover. I would much rather have a piece of chocolate cake to celebrate the first harvest. Every year I try to convince my mother to switch up dessert, but she is too steeped in tradition to bend to my modern ways. There's a new sheriff in town when I'm in charge of Thanksgiving dinner.

My Favorite Things 2007

Yesterday I watched Oprah's most anticipated and beloved episode of the year, "My Favorite Things." It was more than slightly disappointing. Oprah's favorite things were super lame. Since my favorite things are better, and in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I decided to make a list of my favorite purchases this past year.

1. Harold's Red Trench coats
2. "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho
3. Bath & Body Works CO Bigelow Mentha Lip gloss
4. Nordstrom's Scrapbook Sweatshirts
5. "Favorites" cookbook
6. Pentax Optio T20 Touch Screen Camera
7. Burberry London Perfume
8. Pure Mirabella Mineral Makeup
9. Moleskin journals from Strands Books
10.Target's Polka Dot Rain Boots

High School: Breeding grounds for Insecurities

This week my little sister was voted "Best Accessorizer" of the Senior Class at Viewmont High School. Other awards handed out were "Best eyes", "Best shoes", "Best style" and so on. She told me and I started laughing out loud. Not that my sister isn't a fantastic accessorizer, I just think the whole scenario is completely ridiculous.
Here are the reasons why I am morally opposed to such a contest:
1. Don't you think it's a little bit outrageous to pick one person out of 700 people and proclaim them as the 'best' at anything? Entirely impossible.
2. Suicide rates among young people are on the rise. Thank you Viewmont High School for contributing to the epidemic of teenagers that hate themselves in America.
3. My sister wears MY accessories EVERY SINGLE DAY. If they were going to give anyone an award, it should have been me.

Disclaimer: My sister wants it known that she did not campaign for this award. On the contrary, she was completely horrified.

My Body Hates Me

I have been waking up with a stomach ache for the past few days. I realized this morning that this is due to my atrocious eating habits as of late. Normally I am a very healthy eater, but ever since Halloween it's been bad news. It hit me today that I haven't even been eating real meals.... instead, I've been substituting them for desserts.

Case in point: Here is what I ate yesterday..
Breakfast: piece of toast and an egg
Lunch: roll and a piece of chocolate cake
Dinner: popcorn and hot chocolate

No wonder I feel like crap. I can't remember the last time I ate a piece of fruit that wasn't covered in chocolate. My body hates me right now. I think I'll find a detox diet to try.

Better left undone....

Last week there was a guy riding on the subway in NYC that spotted the girl of his dreams, but didn't have the courage to approach her. Afterwards, he regretted it so much that he created a web site and posted an ad on craigslist to find her. Well, found her he did, and they are well on their way to a blissful future together. True story. Google it if you don't believe me.
Sounds like a sappy chick flick doesn't it? Something you'd watch after a break-up to convince yourself that there really is someone perfect for you out there. I think it's a great, successful love story. I mean, who isn't at least secretly looking to be swept up?
With that said, I have to admit that I think some things are better left undone. Some things just aren't supposed to be. Sometimes the best stories are the simple and uncomplicated occurances in life. Two examples come to mind..
1. One evening last summer, I stepped onto the train in NYC at 124th street, and noticed an attractive, frenchman across the aisle. We played the eye game for a couple of stops, until he stood up, walked over, and sat by me. For twenty minutes we conversed on the crowded train. He had very broken english, and I speak zero french. Communication was confusing at best. The only thing we both understood was that there was a mutual attraction. When we got to 42nd street, we simply went our separate ways. He was on his way to a wedding, and I was going to meet a guy for dinner that was much less intriguing than this french mystery. That was it. Two strangers forging a short-lived connection. I wouldn't have wanted it to end any other way.
2. Last March, I was dragged to a Sunday night dessert party in Provo by a friend. I didn't feel like being social since I was exhausted from a sleepless weekend. I stood there wrapped in my own thoughts, when suddenly a guy I'd never seen before was standing in front of me. He blurted, "I saw you from across the room.... and I want to kiss you." Only a tool would say something like that so I gave him a smirk and said, "Ha. You wouldn't dare." Before I knew it, he grabbed me, and was kissing me on the mouth, tasting my cinnamon lip gloss. Who does that? I pulled away, utterly surprised. I wanted to slap him for having the audacity to think that he could just kiss me, but another part of me thought that his confidence was almost commendable. If more people were that confident, there would be more relationships, and more happy people in this world. So I simply said, "Wow... you don't even know my name." Then I walked away.

*Disclaimer: The real end to this story is that somehow the sweet bro found out where I lived, and for the next week I had to hide everytime the doorbell rang. I refused to speak to him again, because I was kissed by a stranger, and I wanted to keep it that way. It makes for a much better story, don't you think?

Like I said before... some things are just better left undone.

Beware of Fragrance Bulbs

My mother is all about Bath & Body Works fragrance bulbs. You plug them into an electrical outlet, and Walah... sweet fragrance fills the entire room for 6-8 weeks guaranteed. They are a woman's dream. Her patronage alone certainly prevents these little bulbs from being discontinued; she keeps an endless supply on hand at all times.
I walked into the house this afternoon and the most potent smell I've ever encountered literally knocked me over. I immediately felt naucious, and seconds later I was dry-heaving. The smell was a combination of teeth being drilled at a dentist's office, and really bad, cheap men's cologne. It was absolutely horrifying. At first I truly wondered if it was a dead animal. After pacing the house for a few minutes, I found the nasty culprit... a fragrance wall plug-in. It's name, you ask? Sensual Amber. Okay, who really wants their house to smell sexy? (Besides my mother, apparently). I am here to tell you that Sensual Amber is anything but a turn-on. Bath & Body Works seroiusly disappointed me this time. I quickly made it my charge to destroy every box of Sensual Amber bulbs I could find in the house.
Let this be a word of caution to you all. When purchasing fragrance bulbs, it is in your best interest to be extremely selective.

Keepin it fresh baby

Today my boss walked into my office, took one look at me, and said, "You are the most thematic dresser I've ever met. I never know if you are going to show up looking like a business woman, an east coast preppy, a military dictator, a cowgirl, or a punk rocker. Every day I'm intruiged to see what you will wear next."
Before I could say anything, he turned around and walked away.
I am just going to assume that what he meant to say was, "Andrea, thank you for keeping this stagnant office alive." Yeah... that has to be it.

Words I hate

Here is a list of the words I literally despise. Everytime I hear them I get the uh-oh feeling.

1. Probe
2. Ointment
3. Supple
4. Moist
5. Groin
6. Panty-hose

My 12 year old brother tries to construct sentences using all of these words just to annoy me. Once I went out with this boy and he said the word 'probe' six times in one night. It bothered me so much I couldn't bring myself to go out with him again.

Social Responsibility?

One of the qualities I truly appreciate in a person is the ability to be open, honest, frank and candor. Especially when it comes to human foibles. I am sincerely grateful when somebody has the decency to quietly inform me that I have a piece of corn in my tooth, I spilled soy sauce on my blouse, or I have mascara running down my face. It is the mark of a true friend when a person will eagerly tell you if you look like an idiot.
This morning I rode the elevator with two men, I'm guessing in their late fifties. Immediately I noticed that one of the men was sporting slacks with a completely exposed, and unzipped zipper. I was torn. Part of me felt that it was my social responsibility to help this poor man before he made a complete fool of himself throughout the day. On the other hand, I didn't feel it necessarily appropriate to point out that he was flying free for these reasons..
A) He was a complete stranger.
B) Another man was riding in the elevator with us and there was no possible way of quietly divulging the problem.
C) I didn't want him to assume that I was some young hussy, checking out his 'area' in an enclosed elevator.
Before I knew it, the doors opened and we were on floor 6.. my stop. As I slipped off the elevator my heart sank. I felt like a horrible person for failing to speak up, and allowing this man to subject himself to humiliation and embarassment in the workplace.
Seriously though, could I have done anything differently?? Four hours later, I just hope that he's not still walking around with his zipper down.