i heart betseys

to e!

2011-02-26T19:22:00.001-08:00

elise and me in seventh grade.

elise was in my wedding. all bridesmaids were told to buy a hot black dress. she's on my immediate right. she took my advice to the extreme. atta girl.

and then i was in her wedding. you don't want to know why we're laughing so hard. trust me.

if i did get to have dinner with betsey, i would wear this dress. i'm kind of obsessed with it right now. i'm also kind of obsessed with how long this model's legs are. not fair.

elise and i are best friends because we both know what it's like to have people be jealous of us. kinda like cher and dionne. i'm cher. obv. elise, sorry, you're di.

we met in seventh grade. went to high school together. went to college together. lived in delta gamma together. lived in an apartment together. both moved to new york. both married kyle. and both became vegan at the same exact time. we are so much alike that she's basically my sista from another mista (a hot mista at that. oh, mr. dieden...).

elise and i both became vegan after reading the book skinny bitch. though our reasons were slightly different -- she was trying to find a diet that agreed with ibs that's worse than mine (unimaginable, right?) and i was trying to find a diet that would offset my depression and make me a little less paranoid about getting cancer someday. shortly after becoming vegan, i mentioned doing a food blog about veganism and elise said she'd been thinking about doing the same. we are essentially the same person, so it doesn't surprise me that we'd come to this thought separately but simultaneously. pretty much all of our conversations have, "oh my god, me, too!" as every other sentence. of course, in true jess and elise fashion, she actually followed through with it whereas i struggled to motivate.

elise has now become the queen of vegan blogging, which is fine because i much prefer being the queen of bj's. i'm pretty certain most of the hits i get on my blog are due to perverts searching for porn. it's cool. maybe my blog will save them and they will turn their porn addiction into a party dress addiction. that's what rusty did.

in one of elise's recent posts, she posed a contest. the winner gets a sweet cookbook. given my competitive nature, i couldn't resist. plus, that cookbook would look awesome on my brand new hutch next to my 4 ingredient vegan cookbook.

so, e, this one's for you!

what celebrity would you like to dine with and why?

betsey johnson.

i fell in love with betsey almost four years ago. in the whole scheme of torrid love affairs, ours has been short, but i honestly can't remember my life before betsey.

the first time i met betsey was at her birthday party two years ago. i got to take a picture with her and talk to her. she noticed i was engaged and asked me if i'd found a dress. i told her that i really wanted to wear a betsey, since i'd gotten engaged in one. she invited me to the showroom to see the gowns that she was designing. then she told her assistant to write down my name. she signed the birthday invitation i had, writing, "to preetie engaged jessica, xoxo betsey." it's now framed and sitting proudly on the bookshelf in my bedroom. i couldn't believe that someone so famous could be so down to earth. i thought i had it bad for betsey before her birthday party, but after meeting her, i had a full-blown-stalker-status-girl-crush.

ever since meeting betsey i've dreamed of the day of meeting her again. for one, i want to tell her that we have something in common. she is a breast cancer survivor and my dad died from cancer. her survival and her use of fashion to promote breast cancer awareness is truly inspirational. for as long as i've shopped betsey there's always been at least one piece in the store whose proceeds go towards one of two cancer charities close to her heart: national breast cancer coalition fund and the weill cornell breast center.

i discovered betsey johnson dresses after my dad was diagnosed and over the course of the two and a half years that he battled cancer, i sought refuge from the horrors of his disease and my worst bout of depression in her columbus avenue store. that store became my mecca. walking into the bright pink palace of party dresses allowed me an opportunity to escape and forget about my sadness, frustration and pain. for an hour, or two, or three, i would do nothing but try on party dresses and chat with the friendly stylists. donning one of her dresses made me forget the feeling that my world was falling apart. and buying dresses gave me an endorphin rush that could almost make me forget about how terrified i was of losing my dad.

during one particularly scary period, when we'd just found out that my dad's cancer was in his stomach and that he wasn't responding to treatment, i actually sat in the dressing room at betsey and sobbed. i didn't want to go home because i was worried that i would hurt myself, so i just walked into betsey johnson, plunked myself down on the chair in the dressing room and cried. and cried. and cried. and then i shopped. and shopped. and shopped. i bought a shit ton of dresses that day, some even at - gasp! - full price. but i didn't care because it made me feel better and, for the moment, distracted. it was easier worrying about how kyle would react to my purchases than how much more time i had with my dad. when i went home, i shoved the dresses immediately into the closet and didn't plan on telling kyle about my transgressions. but as is typically the case when i do something bad, it was only a matter of a few minutes before i told on myself.

"i did something really awful," i said.

"what?" kyle asked.

"i bought four betsey johnson dresses today. and they weren't all on sale. and i know that i shouldn't have and that i can't really afford them all, but i needed something to make me feel better and i'm sorry. they're non-returnable."

"if buying betsey dresses is your vice during times like this, then i think you're going to be ok. you could be going nuts drinking or doing drugs. buying dresses is not that big of a deal and you know you spent too much, so you just need to be more careful with your money over the next couple weeks," he said. if only kyle knew then just how out of control my betsey buying would become. i'm not so sure he would have been so understanding. especially if he knew that in a matter of a year he would be relegated to a mere tenth of the walk-in closet while betsey got the rest.

the very last time i flew home to see my dad he had been in the hospital for almost three months straight. he was not doing well and we knew that the end was coming. between taking shifts in his room so that he was never alone, i escaped to broadway plaza, conveniently located a mere block from the hospital. i needed air and i needed to walk. and then i found betsey. at broadway plaza. in walnut creek. i needed to cry, so i walked in, sat down in the dressing room, and silently sobbed. (totally lame, right? almost as lame as the fact that i'm writing this post on a saturday night. i needed a life back then and i still need a life now.) and after having a good cry, i bought a dress. it was a slinky little cocktail dress and it fit inside of my purse. i walked back to the hospital feeling like i had the strength to endure the rest of the weekend and what turned out to be the last time i ever saw my dad. my dress stayed with me in my purse the entire time.

a few weeks later my dad died. once funeral arrangements were made, i realized that i didn't have anything i wanted to wear to the funeral. so i went back to betsey. it only seemed right that betsey should be with me at the funeral. i bought a simple black dress with purple lace trim. it was pretty, but it was not a party dress. i didn't care, though, as i figured i would only wear it to the funeral and then never again. but as soon as i got back to new york after attending the funeral, i immediately wore the dress to work. and it soon became one of my favorite work betseys. to this day i get more compliments on this dress than any other betsey i own.

a year after my dad's death i took a personal day from work. i didn't think i could make it through the day without having an emotional meltdown in front of my students. i went tanning, i worked out, i got a manicure, and i went to betsey. i bought a dress to celebrate the fact that even though not a day goes by without missing my dad, i'm ok. it hasn't been easy without him, but each day i'm reminded that even though he's gone, i still have so much that is good. i have my husband, my puppy, my family, and my friends. i have my health. and now, i have a hundred betseys.

i want to have dinner with betsey so that i can tell her this and so much more.

check out e's blog at: hungryhungryhippie.com so you can stop eating crap and be one step closer to lookin' bangin' in a betsey.

the name game

2011-02-26T08:00:00.000-08:00

yet again i wish my crackberry had a flash camera. rusty has his red longjohns on.

we're twins! but you can't tell because my camera sucks!

kiss kiss thermo dress. i have it on over my bj love dress. cute. comfy. and perfect for a rainy day. also wearing my new bj locket. love, love, love it.

dress from the side. so cute, right? it's longer in back than it is in the front. throwback to the gilded age, yo.

rusty is a repressed hoarder. he won't admit to it, but anyone who enters the bedroom closet can tell in a hot second. the landslides of chew toys, piles of clothing he's either outgrown, ripped, or peed on one too many times, and stacks of economist magazines from years ago give him away despite his protests. it's always driven kyle and i insane having clutter everywhere. i could never understand why he couldn't throw shizzle away. until now.

i've realized that in my own way, i too am a hoarder. for one, i'm a betsey hoarder.

my closet has over a hundred betseys and i have every intention of acquiring even more. there really isn't any space left to fit more betseys and i don't even have enough occasions to wear them all to. some of them i will probably never wear. but it's painful to part with them. even giving them away to my sisters or friends is difficult and causes me some anxiety. especially when i give them to my youngest sister, ruby, and she leaves them on the floor. a betsey never touches the floor. ever.

and i'm also a name hoarder.

i've never been particularly fond of my name. i feel like jessica is totally played out and totally 80's. and my middle name is anne with an e. boring. growing up i wished my mom had given me elizabeth as my middle name. then i would have had the names of BOTH the sweet valley high twins. obv. and i always thought my last name, reid, was so dumb. but somehow, as i got older, my name grew on me, especially when i went into teaching and the kids called me ms. reid. i loved that my name was the same as "read a book" because literacy instruction has always been my favorite aspect of teaching. but i wasn't THAT attached to my name until my dad died. once he died i felt a sense of fierce loyalty to my name because in my mind it represented a connection to him. and as the years go by and i remember less and less, at least i have my name as a constant reminder of where i come from.

a few weeks ago kyle and i were discussing my impending trip to california when the subject of my name came up. he was infuriated to learn that i still hadn't changed it.

"but i changed it on facebook," i whined, "that's basically the only place that matters."

"that doesn't count," kyle countered, not even looking at me. that's how i know i'm in trouble.

my sister likes to point out two things: 1. that i have an amazing man who loves me and 2. that i'm a horrible person. so eight months of marital bliss and today i finally took the first step towards changing my name. finally. wife fail for those of you that see the glass as half full. i would like to point out, though, that at least an entire year hasn't gone by. given that it was pouring rain and a friday, i figured the social security office probably wouldn't be too busy, so i donned my newest betsey - a red kiss kiss thermo hooded dress - and headed out to brave the rain and the tourists in times square.

upon arriving at the social security office, though, i realized that i still didn't know what i wanted my new name to be. so i decided to conduct a facebook poll. obv the best way to make all important decisions. my conundrum was whether i keep jessica anne reid and tack on sliwerski or drop anne and make reid my new last name. here's what my wise friends said:

morgan anne: as much as it pains me to say it, middle name twinsie, i think you should drop the anne and go for option jreidski.

ian: do you plan on living in the south at any point? if so, the more names the better.

dr. b: jessica a. (a for type a) reid.

lucas: kyle rusty reid has a nice ring to it.

kill: the more names in your name, the more powerful and respected you will be! just look at prince charles philip arthur george windsor.

kyle: i'll just change my name to kyle anne reid. done and done.

unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. i tried for months, in jest, but not really, to get kyle to take my name.

"wouldn't you rather have a name that people pronounce correctly AND spell correctly?" i asked.

"no. i'm not taking your name," he would say in a tone that pretty much implied that the conversation was over.

"but think about rusty. he gets teased so much as it is. by making his last name reid instead of reid-hyphen-sliwerski we'd be making his life just a little bit easier. maybe he would actually be able to make some friends. finally," i said.

"look, rusty doesn't get made fun of because of his name. he gets made fun of because of the mom jeans you bought him, because he's failed kindergarten three times, because he can't read or write his name, because he smells like garbage, because he gets free lunch... do i need to keep listing reasons?" kyle asked matter of factly. touché.

i contemplated this conversation and my friends' sage advice while waiting for my number to be called. i really couldn't decide which name to take and when it came down to it, i didn't want to get rid of any of my names. i texted kyle asking him to decide for me and he gave the green light to keep my entire name and just add sliwerski at the end. reason 900 million that i love him. so i kept my entire name, but legally i'm jessica sliwerski. win win.

to celebrate my new name i hit up sephora. i'm kind of obsessed with red lipstick right now and my red kiss kiss thermo needed some matching lipstick. i found a lip pencil that is:

1. cruelty free

2. all natural

3. by a company called tarte

4. in a hue called fiery

5. and chock-a-bock full of moisture, which is perfect for my perpetually cracked lips

could this day get any better?!? i have a hundred betseys in my closet, four names, and a slutty new lip pencil. life is good, except for one small problem...

when i waltzed into the apartment this evening, rusty demanded to know where i'd been.

"just, ummmm, you know, changing my name and buying a new lip pencil. no big deal. wanna play dress up?" i asked, quickly trying to change the subject. after such a perfect day i really did not want to have any puppy drama. fortunately rusty has the attention span of a gnat and loves to play fashion show. phew.

but the bigger problem still looms. rusty's last name is now different from kyle's and mine. i think this is kyle's first step towards getting rid of rusty and getting a smarter, better-looking dog.

carbs are my crack

2011-02-25T05:48:00.000-08:00

the newest edition to my betsey jewelry family. my grammy gave me a macy's giftcard for my bday, so i could buy some betsey bling. i intend to put a picture of bradley cooper in it.

a sweet affair's cinnamon pillow. omg. delish.

went to the biscoff shop at pier 39.

where one can buy...biscoff!!! also available at walgreen's. you never have to fly delta again!

i knew it was bad idea jeans, but i couldn't help myself. when in san fran...

evening tallulah strapless dress. i really want it. especially since all the ruffles would hide the fact that i've eaten about 9 loaves of bread in the last four days. oops.

while being back home in san fran i rekindled my love affair with bread.

it started innocently enough with breakfast my first morning. my mom didn't have the assortment of vegan fixings that i usually gravitate towards, so i had to make due with a loaf of sourdough and a container of peanut butter. oh my god, it was sheer heaven. i forgot how divine toasted sourdough with melted peanut butter is.

"yo, ma, you're gonna need to pick up some more sourdough after you take fat cat to the vet to get his bladder checked out," i said through the mounds of dough and pb in my mouth. "i accidentally ate your entire loaf. my bad."

"sure thing," she answered, used to the fact that once i start eating something i like i generally can't stop and then i want to continue eating that same exact thing for about 9 days straight, at which point i officially o.d. it drives kyle absolutely insane that i abuse food this way, but i was on vacay and my mom would love me no matter what, so there was no reason to front.

once the sourdough was demolished i moved on to naan (pronounced nah-n, duh). trader joe's garlic naan to be specific. i don't know if it was my emotional high from recovering from sty eye or pre-pms, but i was on a carbocentric binge and there was no turning back. especially where naan was concerned. once upon a time i bought a package of naan from trader joe's and i ate the whole thing in a day, so i hadn't bought it since. the naan i bought was whole wheat. this naan was garlic and white. my mom has an aversion to whole wheat. she can't help it. she's from the midwest where every type of food is dyed white and deep fried. this bread was so soft and delicious that i actually closed my eyes and started humming, which is generally what i do when i'm deep in a euphoric, carb-induced haze.

"oh, you're eating naan," laura said, meandering into the kitchen. "did you heat it up? it's so good heated."

"really? it's pretty damn good raw, too," i said coming out of my reverie. "i suppose i could try it heated, but i don't really have the patience to wait for it to heat."

"it's only 20 seconds in the microwave," she said.

"listen, little ms. smarty pants, that's 20 seconds of withdrawal during which i won't have my face stuffed with bread. it better be worth it," i said, slamming a piece of naan in the microwave and trying not to choke on the lump of bread in my mouth or shake too much in anticipation. laura already thought it was weird that i had packed an entire suitcase full of nothing but betsey johnson dresses for the weekend, i really didn't need her to see how weird it was that i was foaming at the mouth for bread. i am the older sister. i'm supposed to be setting an example to which she can aspire.

"where's the sourdough?" she muttered, partially to me, but mostly to herself as she padded around the kitchen in her slippers. "i wanted to make toast."

"i think that fat cat with a bladder infection ate it all," i lied, crossing my fingers, "don't worry, mom's going to pick up more," i hastily added.

the microwave dinged and my bread was finished. that little whipper snapper was right. warm naan on a freezing cold san fran day in an even more freezing cold house is pretty much the closest i'll ever get to heaven. i promptly threw the rest of the bag into the microwave.

"all that bread is going to make you fat," laura said, watching me binge out of the corner of her eye.

"that just goes to show you how much you don't know about my metabolism. i wish that eating this bread would help me put on a little weight, specifically in the cleavage area. then maybe i could finally stop worrying that kyle is going to leave me for that victoria's secret slut marissa miller. unfortunately, the only hazardous effect this bread will have on me is that i will get bread bloat and not have to go to the bathroom for days," i replied, stuffing another piece of naan in my mouth for the sake of posterity.

i killed the bag of naan and spent the rest of the morning wondering when i'd get my next bread fix. my mom, laura and i headed off to pier 39 to do some sightseeing and by sightseeing, i mean that we were going to see the biscoff shop. biscoff is the official cookie of delta airlines. biscoff is delta's way of saying, "we're a crappy airline and we're sorry we're not jetblue. have a cookie and feel better." and it works. in addition to my bread fetish, i also have a cookie fetish and biscoff is one of my absolute favorite cookies. the beauty of the internet is that you can generally find anything you want. i was able to find biscoff by googling around. it's sold at walgreen's and at it's very own biscoff shop at pier 39. since we'd already been to betsey the day before, the only place left to see was the biscoff shop. obv.

the good thing about gorging myself on bread for breakfast was that by the time we got to the biscoff shop i wasn't really in the mood for cookies. i was on a yeast kick, so sugar did not appeal to me at the moment. instead, i was enticed by the boudin's bakery next door. i decided that i needed more sourdough. specifically, a bread bowl. more specifically, filled with clam chowder. now i know you're probably thinking, that sounds like a horrible idea, jessica. you do not do dairy well. and you're totally right. because i totally don't. but in this moment, i was on a bread mission and nothing was going to stop me, even the impending danger of having to spend the rest of the day in total intestinal agony.

though i tried to keep my bread fetish in check, it seemed to escalate over the course of the weekend. i'd had a little and there was no going back. while visiting my stepmom and sibs in the east bay, i ate about nine pieces of this amazing cinnamon sugar bread from a little bakery called a sweet affair. they call their cinnamon bread a "cinnamon pillow" which is actually quite fitting given that i wanted to crawl into bed and spoon the entire loaf. it was the best cinnamon bread i've ever had in my life. no raisins. swirls of cinnamon. a dusting of cinnamony sugary deliciousness on the crust. before i knew it i'd eaten about nine pieces and my stomach was buggin. woops! pretty sure that bread was not vegan. i was clearly on a bender and this weekend was turning out to be a dietary disaster.

upon arriving back to nyc, i vowed to straighten up and kick my nasty bread habit. no such luck. when kyle left for work i went straight to the fridge and in no time had eaten three bagels. i realized that it wasn't so much the bread that i wanted at this point, but the vegan butter that melted so perfectly on the warm, toasted bagel and that just so happened to taste just like real butter. who'd have thought? over the course of the day i then managed to devour half a loaf of trader joe's multigrain bread. again, at this point it wasn't about the bread. it was the vegan butter. i would have toasted cardboard and eaten that with vegan butter.

kyle texted me from work reminding me that he was having drinks with the guys that night. i was so busy getting it on with my vegan butter that for once, i could care less. the longer he was out, the more time vegan butter and i had to ourselves.

when he got home from drinks, he was all smiles. "so guess what happened to me tonight?" he said, febreezing his coat.

"hmmmm," i replied. too exhausted from eating bread and vegan butter all day to even sit up on the couch.

"i was at the bar and this group of girls was totally checking me out all night. then, when we were leaving one of them ran up to me and was like, 'can i have your name and number for my friend? she thinks you're cute!'"

"oh yeah?" i said, sitting up and feeling slightly jealous. not jealous because he got hit on, but jealous because his day sounded so much more exciting than mine.

"yeah. so then i was like, 'sorry! i'm married.' and flashed her my ring and she was like, 'ahhhhhh...'" he said, so proud of himself.

"great story. you know what i did today? i ate a loaf of bread and a container of vegan butter. i win." then i laid back down on the couch because sitting up hurt my bloated stomach too much.

"did you really?" he asked, walking towards the fridge to see if the bread was indeed gone.

"well, maybe not the entire loaf, but most of it. and all the bagels. i can't believe you got hit on. no one ever hits on me now that i'm an old married broad who sits around all day eating loaves of bread and vegan butter. i'm going to go cry myself to sleep now," i said jokingly, but not really.

when i woke up this morning i finished the loaf of bread. 6 pieces of toast with vegan butter. and i drizzled honey on the toast also. definitely not vegan, but i love honey. i'm a little annoyed that rusty didn't even try to stop me from continuing on this bread binging rampage. instead, he just sat on the kitchen floor encouraging me.

"rusty, i really need to stop. this is getting out of control. i think i have a problem," i said, staring at the toaster oven and waiting for my 4th piece of toast.

"what? no way. it's totally normal to eat this much toast. also, i heard that eating copious amounts of toast and vegan butter will make your boobs bigger and your hair shinier," he said, wagging his tail.

"really? i never heard that, but if you say it's true, then i guess so. you do sit around reading the economist all day, so i'm sure you would know," i said, pulling the toast out of the oven.

"totally," he replied, "also, i read that the crust is bad for you and will give you sty eye, so you should give me the crust."

"rusty, you are so wise. what would i do without you?" i asked, petting his head as we walked into the living room together to enjoy our toast and another dvr'd episode of jersey shore.

stealing laura's b-card

2011-02-23T09:37:00.001-08:00

betsey johnson in san francisco center! my kind of sightseeing.

film noir ruched strapless dress. this dress also came in pink with black stripes around the skirt. kelly osbourne wore the pink one recently on the cover of british cosmo.

little laura wearing the dress with a pair of starburst pollies. isn't she adorable?

shopping makes me hungry.

heavenly salad.

the most amazing mocha cake. it sucked that i had to share it with my mom. i wanted it all to myself. totes delish.

i stole my sister's b-card. b as in betsey. duh.

i spent saturday in san fran with my mom and my little sister, laura. laura is 17 and barely 5 feet. she's obsessed with the office, sourpatch kids, and shopping. despite the 12-year age difference, we seem to have a LOT in common. it probably helps that my maturity level is about the same as hers.

it was pouring rain, so we decided that the best way to spend the day would be shopping. even if it wasn't pouring rain, i would have somehow found a way to justify the day shopping. we went to san francisco center, which is an enormous mall downtown. they have a betsey there and i was eager for laura to have her first betsey experience.

the san fran betsey is significantly smaller than the betsey where i work on columbus avenue. they didn't have nearly as much merchandise and i definitely felt smug looking around their store, which is probably about a quarter of the size of our store. as we entered the store, i gave laura some sage advice. "the dresses always look better on you than they do on the hanger. don't judge. try this one," i said, handing her the black film noir ruched strapless dress to try first.

of course she did judge. "ewwww, jess, i don't like that dress," she complained.

"quit your crying and put it on," i barked, shoving her into the dressing room. she looked at my mom for help, but my mom knew better than to get involved. i signaled to the store manager that we were going to need a pair of pollies stat (pollies are the hooker heals). laura needed to have the head-to-toe beej experience, so i also raided the jewelry cabinet and found a super chunky necklace.

when laura came out of the dressing room in the dress i'd selected, she looked absolutely fab. it was the perfect prom dress.

"i thought i wanted something longer, but i really like this dress," she said with a huge smile on her cherubic little face.

"damn straight," i said. "this is definitely the dress. you look hot." my mom frowned at this. "i mean, you look... lovely. very demure and sophisticated."

"no one else at school will have this dress," laura added.

"exactly. because no one else at your school has style or an older sister with a bj hookup. you win. you better get prom queen. no pressure."

"i'm not so sure about that dress," my mom finally said. "that zipper in the front is not appropriate." unlike me, laura is blessed with big boobs. she downplays them by saying that they're only a b, but because she's a midget they look bigger. whatever. they're totes a c. again, more evidence that i got screwed in the gene pool.

"mom, if she really wants to have sex after prom, she will find a way. getting a dress without a zipper is not going to prohibit that. and, fyi, do you see how short this dress is? are you suggesting we also get her a chastity belt? here, laura, try the shoes and necklace." she put them on and looked absolutely perfect. this was definitely the dress.

"i love it, mom! this is the one that i want. for sure," laura said. my mom still looked dubious as she eyed the satanic zipper. "alright, laura, if that's what you think you want..." she didn't seem convinced, but she was outvoted two to one.

"so here's the deal, little one," i said, "i will buy you this beej with my discount, but when prom is over, you have to send it back to me so i can wear it because you are not going to wear it again. also, if you do have sex in it, you need to dry clean it before you send it back to me. roger that?"

so it's official. i have taken another one of my sister's b-cards. to celebrate we went to the food court. we found a restaurant called "the loving hut: vegan cuisine." it couldn't have been a more perfect place to eat given that we'd just picked out the dress that laura will most likely lose her virginity in. (if you're reading this mom, i'm totally kidding.)

i love that vegan cuisine has become far more mainstream. the fact that there is a restaurant in the food court that actually proudly asserts itself as vegan cuisine shows how far us vegans have come. my mom and i ordered a salad, a "pork" bun, and a huge piece of mocha cake. in truth, i wanted to sample everything on the menu. this was my first experience with a vegan chinese restaurant. laura took one look at the menu and then asked my mom for five dollars so she could go to auntie anne's for a pretzel. she came back ten minutes later as i was digging into my salad with pretzel sticks slathered in butter and a giant frozen lemonade.

"listen, little one. that shiz is gonna go straight to your ass and then you aren't going to fit into your prom dress," i warned.

"whatever," she said, "that piece of mocha cake is gonna go straight to your face and you'll probably get another sty eye and wanna-be-boil." touche.

we finished our delicious lunch and headed home. it was freezing outside and even more cold in my mom's house. i forget how spoiled i am in nyc to have all the heating i could possibly want for absolutely free. i lounge around the apartment in my underwear and a beater when it's below freezing outside. not so at home. i layered on tights, socks, sweats, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a scarf, and a blanket and was still freezing cold. when we got home i remembered that i had another betsey for laura. in my bag i'd packed a little black denim betsey dress that i'd gotten for free. it looked stupid on me, because, once again, i don't have the cleavage necessary. also, because of my height, it looked too short. i made laura try it on and it was absolutely adorable.

"oh! i love it! it's so cute!" she exclaimed, twirling around.

"here, try this belt with it," i said, handing her a silver belt with a bow on it. in my opinion almost everything looks better with a belt.

"when will i wear this, though?" she asked.

"you'll need a dress like this in college," i explained. "when you want to get all dressed up to go out drinking with the girls or to parties at frat houses where you'll make out with jerks, this dress will be perfect."

"oh. okay!" she said, innocently. she's so sweet and naive.

then i reminded laura that she needed to do two things with this betsey: 1) as soon as she grew out of it or tired of it, she needed to give it back to me so that i could save it for my daughter one day and 2) she had to text becca (her sister/my half-sister who is also obsessed with bj's) and gloat. she gladly agreed to do both.

a friend for herdy

2011-02-17T07:39:00.001-08:00

herdy's new bestie is a wanna-be-boil. these are my five new besties. i can't live without them.

http://www.beautybar.com/

and kyle, oops, i mean rusty, can't live without this.

herdy was lonely. he needed a friend.

having sty eye wasn't demoralizing enough. i woke up the other morning and there was a red spot on my neck that was tender to the touch. so what did i do all day? i continued to touch it. every few minutes. hoping each time that it would magically disappear if i continued to molest it. unfortunately, i only made the problem worse. by the end of the day, what was initially a harmless red spot had turned into a giant red blotch.

"oh. my. god. you have a boil on your neck," b said when he saw me. and then he started laughing. i hate him.

"what?!?! not possible. i cannot have a boil on my neck. i already have sty eye. i haven't done anything bad enough to be punished with sty eye AND a boil on my neck. i think it's just a rash," i replied, trying to keep the hysteria from creeping into my voice. we were at school and it wouldn't be professional to start screaming like a banshee.

"no way. it's totally a boil. go look in the mirror," he instructed.

"ugh. seriously? you have got to be kidding me!! what the eff is going on with my skin? and what is a boil?" i said, trying not to cry. i didn't want b to see that having all these dirty skin maladies was getting the better of me.

"you know how you get those, right?" he called after me as i peered at my neck closely in the bathroom mirror.

"i'm not listening to you," i called back, "you were wrong about my herdy. i didn't get my herdy from butt towels at the nox, so i doubt you know anything about boils."

"they're fungal," he said anyway.

"ewwwww!!! what's that even mean? this is getting ridiculous. i'm breaking out like crazy, i have sty eye and now i have a boil on my neck. kyle is probably going to divorce me and take full custody of rusty because i'm too dirty and too crazy to keep our son and then there won't be anyone to keep the apartment clean or make sure i eat nutritious 4-ingredient meals and i'll probably starve or drown in my piles of betsey dresses," i whined.

"stop being dramatic. go see a dermatologist," b said.

"i can't. i don't have time and i've been four times already in the last three months. clearly it's not working," i muttered, feeling sorry for myself and wishing i could put a paper bag over my head. this seriously sucked. "i'm going home to wikipedia this shiz and then crawl into bed," i said, grabbing my betsey bag and heading for the door.

on the way to the train i texted my sister. she's an esthetician in la and also my personal skin guru.

me: i have sty eye and a boil on my neck.

sis: oh wow. you are a mess! does the boil have a black spot in the middle?

me: ewwww! sick. no. but b said it's a boil.

sis: b is not a doctor! i don't know why you listen to anything he says! unless you're seeking advice about the best place to go fake and bake or get your highlights done, you should not listen to him!

me: stop yelling at me. he's my only friend right now besides herdy. no one else wants to be my friend because i'm dirty.

sis: who's herdy?

me: nevermind.

sis: whatever. a boil is very painful and will usually develop a black spot in the middle. it also requires antibiotics because it's a staph infection. you probably just have a big zit. ice your big zit and take a deep breath. watch heavy and you'll feel better.

according to my sister, we were seriously effed by genetics in the skin department. on the bright side, though, we were blessed with kick-ass metabolisms. my sis lives off a steady diet of mcdonald's and cheetos, but you'd never know because her body is bangin'. and i live on a steady diet of carbs and vegan junkfood and still rock a size 0. her remedy for the skin blues is to watch shows like heavy and realize that it's better to have bad skin than be, well, heavy. in case you're interested in some of her other remedies, i've listed them below:

crows feet: you shouldn't smile so much, jess, you're giving yourself wrinkles.

laugh lines: don't laugh so much, jess, you're getting lines and you'll need restylane to fix that shizzle.

hydrating yourself before a marathon:

sis: i'm not stopping this car between sf and la for anything, so stop drinking water.

me: but i'm running a marathon tomorrow!

sis: i don't care. stop drinking so much water.

me: fine, i'll just wet myself all over your fancy bmw. seriously. you know i will.

other sis in the backseat of the bmw: yeah. she totally will. you better stop the car.

sis: i hate you, jessica.

and speaking of hydration, i've decided that my skin sitch is totes out of control. having been to the derm several times since fall and tried every possible prescribed topical under the sun, i've decided it's time to take matters into my own hands. once upon a time i suffered from depression and tried every anti-depressant known to man and nothing worked. so i decided to go vegan and adopt a gay puppy and that pretty much cured me. if i can cure my own depression, i can definitely cure my adult onset acne.

so here's what i've done: i've gone back to basics. i threw out all the skin stuff from the derm, which i'm convinced was too harsh on my sensitive skin. then i decided that i would use dermalogica. i used to use the moisturizer, but i've decided that i'm so desperate that i'm going to go all out and invest in the entire line of acne products. it's not easy to find dermalogica products, and by not easy, i mean that sephora doen't sell it. so i went online and bingo bango, found a sweet little site called beautybar.com. i ordered a suite of dermalogica goodies and guess what? they arrived the very next day. and when you spend oodles of money on product, shipping is free. god bless the internet. how did we survive before online shopping? no, seriously. how did we?

i've been using the dermalogica for precisely one week now. it's expensive product, but homies, it is worth it. my skin looks and feels amazing. i've also given up coffee (le sigh) and am instead drinking copious amounts of tea and water (boring, but better). i now spend about half of my day in the bathroom and this past weekend when i was home visiting my family in san fran i think they were all convinced that i had a bladder infection because everywhere we went i complained about needing to find a loo. again. and again. and again. the good news, though, is that i've killed both herdy and his girlfriend, my wanna-be-boil. so i guess it's worth it. and, luckily, i won't be in my sister's bmw going on any road trips anytime soon.

since i've "cured" my depression and "cured" my acne, i only need to cure my pms and i will be pretty much perfect...

my herdy

2011-02-15T17:54:00.000-08:00

even if we're in a fight right now, he'll always be my bff.

this is the face he makes when he's up to no good.

this is him cuddling with my butt.

at school today i was scratching my right eyelid incessantly. for the past few days it's really been hurting, but every time i looked at it i couldn't find anything wrong.

"oh my god! you have a sty in your eye!" my friend b exclaimed.

"what? ewww. no i don't. shut up," i retorted. this is usually how our conversations go. b says something and i tell him to shut up.

"yeah. you do. you have a sty. you know how you get those, right? from dirty gym towels. you used a gym towel that touched someone's butt," b informed me, laughing hysterically.

"listen, biatch," i said, "i do not work out at new york sports club like YOU. i work out at equinox with civilized people that don't rub their pooey butts with towels. AND, if they did, those towels would be washed because, like i said, i work out at equinox. so there."

"whatever. you shouldn't be using those towels. everyone knows not to use gym towels," he replied. then he called like five other people over to show them my sty. "hey, look at her eye. she has a sty," he said, vigorously rubbing down his desk with rubbing alcohol and then walking over to the desk i'd just vacated and dramatically rubbing that down while laughing at me.

"i pay an exorbitant amount of money for my gym membership specifically so that i can use the CLEAN towels and i cannot work out without using a eucalyptus towel to cool off afterwards. i didn't get this from the towels, so quit talking smack about my gym. you're just jealous because all the really, really ridiculously good-looking people work out at my gym and not yours." of course i was talking about myself, though with a sty on my eye and hair with roots about an inch long i feel far from attractive right now.

my sty and i left school and did the walk of shame over to kanye. kyle and i call duane reade "kanye". it started out as doo-ahn-yay and that somehow evolved into kanye. anyway, i headed over to kanye to get some sty cream for my dirty little sty eye.

on the way i texted kyle. here's how our conversation went:

me: i have a sty on my eye!

kyle: ewwwwwwww! (poor baby) ewwwwwww!

me: b says it's from the gym

kyle: i'm sleeping on the couch tonight.

me: ugh. so annoyed. have to research what to do to make it go away.

kyle: you could try being not-slutty.

me: why is everyone acting like this is an std???

i got home and wikipedia'd sty. wikipedia knows everything. i learned it can be spelled s-t-y or s-t-y-e so if you've been reading this thinking i spelled my disease wrong, you can shove it. i also learned it can be called a herdeolum. i will henceforth refer to it as herdeolum since that sounds like an std and everyone is acting like this is an std. basically a herdeolum is a fancy name for a big ass zit that happens to be on your eyelid at the base of your lash. as if my adult onset acne wasn't already bad enough. as if having zits on my chin, cheeks, nose and forehead wasn't already sheer awesomeness, i had to go and get one on my eyelid. excellent. bonus: they last 7 - 10 days. oh, and i have to throw away all my eye makeup and not wear any until it goes away because the infection can spread. because i didn't already feel disgusting enough with a sty on my eye!!! now i can't wear any eye makeup either! fml. or rather, fme (eff my eye).

so how did i get said herdeolum? according to wikipedia styes can be triggered by poor nutrition, sleep deprivation, lack of hygiene or rubbing of the eyes. interesting. let's consider each of these possibilities in a little more detail, shall we?

1. poor nutrition: my diet of late has consisted almost entirely of dark chocolate (antioxidants), joe joe's (all natural), and soy lattes (hello! more antioxidants AND protein! soy... duh). so herdy def didn't come from my diet.

2. sleep deprivation: i've been having the best sleep of my life lately, so i will not even consider this as a possibility.

3. lack of hygiene: i take showers... next.

4. rubbing of the eyes: i only started rubbing my eye once i already had the herdy. come to thing of it, wikipedia is not helpful at all.

note that wikipedia did not mention anything about dirty butt towels. therefore i can continue to enjoy rubbing my face in eucalyptus towels at the gym. suck it, b!

so if none of the above caused my herdy, what did? or rather, who did?

rusty.

this is his revenge for the mom jeans i bought him. i could tell he was pissed that he didn't get a pair of true religions. i didn't think he would notice, especially since he can't even write his own name, but he knows his designer labels. the other day i came home from work and found his jeans in the trash.

"rusty! why are your new jeans in the trash?" i exclaimed.

"because i hate them. you know i wanted a pair of low-rise, tapered, skinny jeans and instead you bought me fugly mom jeans," he barked. then he kicked the coffee table and sauntered off to his room underneath the end table.

"listen, those jeans were $20. do you know what i could have bought for $20? i could have bought a pair of betsey earrings. but instead, i bought you jeans because i love you. and they are not mom jeans," i said, crossing my fingers because they actually are mom jeans, i just hoped that he would never notice.

"they're petco jeans! the kids at school already make fun of me because i wear the same outfit 8 days in a row before you put me in a new outfit and because sometimes i stink," he complained.

"well those are your jeans. i'm not going to buy you designer jeans. i don't even have money to properly treat my herdeolum right now, so i definitely am not going to buy you a pair of expensive jeans that you'll probably pee on anyway. so take those jeans out of the trash and go put them with your other clothes under the bed."

rusty grabbed his jeans, flipped me off, and stalked out of the room. he was in the bedroom for a really long time, but i was engrossed in putting our books and trinkets on our brand new hutch, so i didn't really pay attention to what he was up to. when he finally came back out he had a triumphant smile on his face. i didn't feel like getting into it with him, so i ignored him. i now know, though, what he was doing. he climbed onto the bed and rubbed his butt all over my pillow. and now i have a sty. on my eye. and no mascara to hide it. rusty wins.

i fully intend to edit the wikipedia definition of stye so that anyone else who contracts said ugliness on their eye will not have to invest so much time thinking about what may have caused it. now every yorkie owner will know better than to buy petco mom jeans.

the real reason i have a sty? there was an event at betsey last weekend and they were doing makeup for free. i had the makeup artist paint my face to make me look like a 2 dollar hooker. she put tons of eye makeup on me and i think her brushes were not as clean as they should have been. lesson learned: don't use makeup brushes that hundreds of other people have used. siiiick.

the power of the party dress

2011-02-15T14:39:00.000-08:00

HVD! maybe i'm not so high maintenance after all... BEST valentine's gift EVA!

mixup striped c/l sheat. c/l = cotton lycra. duh. i plan to hike it up more and belt it. obv.

http://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/index.jsp?productId=10948066

isabelle is no longer my only friend at school. i have a new friend. saphier. yes, saphier. yes, again, saphier. and, yes, oh yes, that's how it's spelled. her name alone let's you know that she's not playing. she's nine years old and one hot mess. she's my kind of girl.

i met saphier my first day of school, but it wasn't until yesterday that we became friends. in fact, i didn't think she even liked me. during reading she talked while i was talking, during writing she slouched and made noises. when i asked her what her favorite book was, she ignored me. when i smiled or said hello to her, she purposely looked the other way. it was like i didn't even exist to her. or so i thought until yesterday.

yesterday saphier came to school in a party dress. with a cardigan. and heels. that was the first sign that we were friends. friends dress alike. i wear party dresses to school. with a cardigan. and heels. saphier is supposed to wear a uniform of blue pants and a blue shirt, but saphier is a rebel and doesn't give a damn about the uniform code. damned if she wasn't going to wear a party dress. with a cardigan. and heels. to school. she came up to me during reading and presented me with a heart-shaped box of chocolates. i could tell she felt shy, so i gave her a big smile and a hug. she smiled back at me and it lit up her entire face, a face that is usually frowning, moping, or talking smack. i can't be certain, but i'm pretty sure that party dress changed her countenance. this is the power of the party dress. if it were up to me i would have my own school for girls and the dress code would be party dresses. with a cardigan. and heels. okay, maybe flats. for the wimps. maybe.

on a side note: at lunch i managed to eat the entire box of chocolates in about two seconds flat in lieu of my vegetable medley quinoa. let's get serious, wouldn't you rather eat a box of chocolates for lunch? i decided that since it was valentine's day i would be daring and eat milk chocolate. obv this was a terrible idea that i paid for dearly later in the day, but at the moment, it was sheer heaven.

after school i headed down to betsey johnson in soho. i usually work at the columbus avenue store and i usually only work on the weekends, but since the fashion show was yesterday, they needed someone to help cover at soho. initially my plan was to sneak into the fashion show since i live right near lincoln center. when asked if i would pick up the soho shift, i declined. when asked again, i declined again. when asked a third time and offered a free party dress to work, i accepted. i simply couldn't resist the power of the party dress. does that make me a party dress slut? absolutely. i will do pretty much anything for a free party dress. although, to be technically correct, i didn't end up getting a party dress. hard to believe, huh? i ended up getting a cotton dress that is a little more hipster than i typically tend to be, but that i plan to pair with leggings/tights and a betsey belt. it'll be good for fall and winter and kyle will be pleased to see me in something tight and whorish rather than a puffy party dress. just sayin'.

when i got home from soho there were red roses and - wait for it - a box of joe joe's on the kitchen counter. score! best vd gift EVER! i already thought i was the luckiest girl because that morning when i was making my lunch for school i found a jonas brothers valentine in my lunchbox and throughout the day kyle sent me romantic texts like this one: HVD 143 143!!! YATHGITW!!! (You are the hottest girl in the world.) so kyle wins the award for being the more romantic one in the relationship because the only thing i got him was a musical t. swift valentine and a beej (interpret that as you'd like).

sunday shenanigans

2011-02-13T15:31:00.000-08:00

rusty. naked. someday i'll show this picture to his prom date.

rusty's jeans. they are totally mom jeans. shhhh. don't tell him.

mmm... 'snice.

our new coffee table.

tomorrow is valentine's day, but i feel like today was already perfectly romantic.

i can't remember the last time that i had an entire sunday all to myself. sundays have always been dedicated to planning, emails, and more recently, picking up a shift at betsey. but today, sunday was mine. and, it was amazing.

first, i slept in. until 9. this in and of itself is incredible. lately when my head hits the pillow, i am totally and completely out. i'm even getting my rem cycle on. for a girl that since august has not been able to sleep well, this is no small feat, especially given that rusty is prone to body slamming me throughout the night and then shoving me with his feet all the way to the edge of the bed. for a five pound pup, he sure doesn't mess around when it comes to asserting his place in bed. p.s. kyle is the one that lets him sleep in bed. not me. for reals. it's his way of keeping me from insisting upon snuggling, but i secretly think it's his way of reminding me how much it sucks when someone tries to hog the entire bed. rusty is my karma and karma is a biatch.

i walked rusty and then ate a leisurely breakfast of peanut butter on a toasted bagel. i'm pretty much obsessed with all things peanut butter. i finished off my second jar for the week this morning. breakfast was delish and, as always, the perfect way to start the day. kyle and i then went to starbucks for second breakfast. i had a tall soy latte. no foam. this is key. i just figured out last week that by asking for no foam, i get more soy milk which then makes the entire drink taste like hot chocolate. well, it tastes like hot chocolate to me...

last weekend i babysat for my friend, jeanette. her daughter, cora, is the cutest baby in the whole wide world and i desperately want to kidnap her. when i got to her apartment i saw this gigantic old trunk in her living room. she said she found it in the trash in her building's basement and thought it was so cool that she brought it upstairs. unfortunately, once her husband saw it, he was like, "oh, hell no. that is not staying in the apartment." so, bingo bango, she gave it to me. i get all her furniture hand-me-downs, which is great because it means that instead of buying furniture, i can buy betseys. (yes, i do think of everything in terms of the number of betseys i can buy.)

so after getting our coffee, kyle and i hightailed it over to the east side to pick up a giant, smelly trunk, aka our new coffee table. yesssss. after paying for a cab to carry the trunk back to our dojo, we had ourselves a brand new coffee table for all of $10. it's totes shabby chic. when rusty saw it he loved it so much he threw up all over the ottoman. no lie. this trunk is awesome and there's so much space inside that i can now accumulate even more betseys and store the ones i don't really wear that much in the trunk! not only that, but with the money we saved, i can now spend more money on betseys. and, on a romantic note, we now have a coffee table upon which we can place "coffee table books" like the guest book from our wedding. we had a new york picture book that everyone signed and that now sits proudly upon the table. win. win. win.

it was only 11 am by the time we cleaned up rusty's vomit and kyle and i were feeling pretty productive, so we decided to keep the momentum going. we went to home depot to buy a -- wait for it -- new toaster oven! dink dink dink! i pretty much killed the old toaster oven with all of my "cooking" and it was time for a new one. we bought the prettiest one. obv. and, best part: it has a crumb catcher! so the apartment won't smell like burning when i'm "cooking" now! yay! the only caveat is that this toaster oven has three different dials that all need to be turned to a particular setting depending upon what you're cooking/toasting. i'm a bit intimidated by this. i will probably have to pull the old toaster oven out of the trash, hide it, and use that instead when kyle isn't looking.

after being so domestic all morning, we decided to reward ourselves with brunch. finding a restaurant that appeases both of us can be a bit daunting and after walking all over chelsea, we ended up at benny's burritos in the west village. we killed two bowls of tortilla chips and salsa before our food came. ok, it was mostly me that ate all the tortilla chips and salsa, but anyway, by the time the food came, i wasn't at all hungry. that being said, if there's food in front of me, i will eat it. i ordered huevos rancheros. i rarely eat eggs, but every once in a while i have an omelette or some other egg dish. today i was trying not to be high maintenance and difficult. this is the key to kyle not divorcing me. gotta pick your battles.

but here's why i love kyle so much: after we ate brunch, he offered to take me to s'nice, the vegan cafe near benny's burritos to get some vegan treats. holding hands, we walked around the corner to 'snice. i spied a bundt cake and the kid behind the counter gave me a generous slice. no joke, i couldn't believe how big a piece he cut. if i was single, i totally would have felt obligated to put out. luckily, i'm not single anymore. luckily. i was totally set to go and then kyle said, "why don't you get a cupcake also?" how jealous are you right now, girls, that this guy is taken? i swear i'm the luckiest lady in the whole wide world.

we left 'snice and headed back uptown to housingworks. having acquired a new coffee table, we decided that we also needed a new bookshelf, mostly to hold all of kyle's harlequin romance novels and rusty's justin bieber scrapbooks. we found an awesome vintage cherry hutch. it's gorge and is going to look beaut in our apartment. i'm so excited that our apartment will now have more to decorate it than my betsey johnson dresses strewn all over the place. the hutch will arrive on tuesday night and once again, rusty will probably puke from the excitement of new furniture. and then, when we aren't looking, he'll pee on it.

since rusty had to spend all day at home while kyle and i were out being domestic and romantic, we decided that we would reward him with a little shopping spree. we took him over to petco and on the way, we saw - gasp! - christopher walken! it took all self control for me to not yell, "more cowbell!" best snl skit EVER, right? anyway, rusty loves shopping. and clothes. this is why we're best, best friends in the whole wide world. obv. we bought him a pair of puppy jeans. they're flipping sweet. he looks so badass. we put the jeans on him before leaving the store and i practically peed my pants. i haven't laughed that hard in i don't know how long. it felt really good.

kyle and i then went to the gym together. he recently joined equinox. i joined over a year ago and tried to get him to join with me, but he insisted that it was ridiculous to pay THAT much money for a gym membership. i explained that i wasn't just paying for a gym membership, i was paying for a chilled eucalyptus towel after every workout. and for that, i would gladly pay more. if you've ever had one of these towels, you know what i'm talking about. heaven. for the first time since marathon training, i have the energy to do an hour of straight cardio. i am working for those eucalyptus towels. the best part is that when i then come home and eat an enormous slice of 'snice chocolate caramel pecan bundt cake for dinner and half of a cupcake for dessert i don't feel as guilty. i earned that shiz, son!

my new bestie

2011-02-09T14:41:00.000-08:00

bj love embroidered cotton sheath dress. the newest addition to the betsey family in my closet. perfect for winter with tights and a cardy and summer with flip flops.

http://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/index.jsp?productId=11148470

business in front. party in the back. hey-o!

so i wore this new beej to work today. you may be thinking to yourself, i thought she was on a budget. i am. i thought she didn't have any space in her closet for more bj's. i don't. i didn't buy this betsey. it was free. just one of the many perks of working for betsey. lucky me.

i paired it with a red cardigan from F21 and if my hair didn't look so wretched i might have felt cute. ugh. i need a haircut like woah. anyway, as i walked into work chugging a grande soy latte (my version of crack), this girl came up to me with the biggest smile and ebulliently gushed, "i love love LOVE your dress! i just love it! it's beautiful!"

"thanks, girlfriend," i said, "you should see what it looks like without this dumb cardigan. it's hot."

"everyday i see your dresses and i think, 'wow! those are some beautiful dresses she has! i want those dresses. i want them all to myself,'" she continued to ramble.

"wow. ummm, thanks?" i said, somewhat uncomfortable now with all this attention being lavished upon me. the only good thing was that i could now stop obsessing about how dreadful my hair looked. who cared if i had roots an inch long and split ends? i looked fabulous and clearly that was all that mattered to this chick.

"so, you, uh come here a lot?" i asked, trying to change the subject.

"yes. every day. oh! i just love your dresses. i WANT them. can you give me your dresses?" she asked.

i love when i meet people who appreciate party dresses. it was refreshing talking to this chick after the comment i got earlier this morning from the a-hole at starbucks who asked if i was going to prom. seriously? you think this is a prom dress? idiot. i snapped, "YOU clearly never went to prom. had you gone you would know this is NOT a prom dress. d-bag." i hate stupid people. the fact that this girl appreciated my keen sense of style and my sweet new betsey dress made me think that we should probably be best friends. obv.

"well," i said, pondering her request, "i don't really think we're the same size. you look much smaller than me. i don't think my dresses will fit you."

"i don't care. i will grow into them. they will be so beautiful on me," she persisted. damn, this girl was NOT going to give up.

"what's your name, sister?" i asked.

"isabelle. and i like pretty dresses! i like them so so much!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

"word. listen, these are couture dresses. high fashion. the best of the best. these dresses are BETSEY JOHNSON. do you know who she is?"

"my pet rabbit's name is betsey," she said.

"that's nice, but here's the thing, betsey dresses are the best of the best and i can't just go giving them away to anyone. my sister becca would freaking kill me. i pretty much have to give my hand-me-down-beejes to her. it's sib code, you know? besides, you and i just met. let's cultivate this relationship a bit more before i start giving you free dresses, aight? what do you say we go see that sweet justin bieber movie this weekend and then maybe get a mcdonald's happy meal afterwards. i'll let you eat everything except the fries, and of course you'll have to give me the toy since i'll be buying."

with a big smile she agreed that that would be fine. then she asked me if i would like to read her junie b. jones book. i said that i abhor junie b. jones because she talks like an imbecile, but that i'd be happy to read some of my twilight book to her. we sat and read together until her teacher came to pick her up.

isabelle is in second grade. she's my new bff because she appreciates my pretty dresses and because she wears purple sunglasses on her head. she's now also going to be my inspiration when i pick out my dresses in the morning. what would isabelle wear? i'll ask myself as i don yet another party dress and cardigan.

superbowl wha?

2011-02-05T16:37:00.000-08:00

my version of comfy: batwing tunic. it's the best. it can be either a dress or a shirt. two betseys in one. i paired it with my betsey sparkly tights and my black betsey heels with bows. and a grande soy latte from starbucks.

8">http://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/index.jsp?productId=11122414

a betsey girl on a budget buys a bangle. only $30 and not available online. black with pale pink hearts and rhinestones. so cute. perf for valentine's day. HVD me!

last week i stopped into betsey for a hot second because i forgot my heels in the stock room. erin told me that she had adjusted my schedule and that i'd be working superbowl sunday.

"sweet," i said. "when's that?"

"ummm, sunday..." erin said.

"yeah, i know it's on a sunday, but which sunday?" i called from the back room.

"THIS sunday."

"wha wha what? already? who's playing?" i asked.

at this point, james, our security guy, started cracking up. they both told me who's playing, but i had stopped listening at that point, distracted by a new pink sequin clutch that we just got in. obv more interesting.

"poor kyle!" my bff hanni exclaimed when i told her the above story on the phone tonight. "you know absolutely nothing about sports and yet he probably knows everything about betsey johnson. that is not even. not even at all."

"ftr, kyle LOVES betsey johnson. he wishes that i had even more betsey johnsons taking up all of my space and all of his space in the closet. he thinks that my party dresses are sheer awesomeness and that my betsey jewelry is way prettier than the tiffany's jewelry he buys me. he also wishes that betsey made dresses for puppies so that i could put rusty in a dress every single day," i replied, setting her straight.

"whatever. you're delusional," she said. then she asked if i wanted to meet up with her at a sports bar in crooklyn tomorrow night to watch the game.

"ewwww. no," i said. "i hate football. plus, i'll be coming from betsey, so i'll be wearing a party dress. oh. wait. actually..."

"no," hannah said.

"actually," i laughed, "i WILL come and meet you at the bar. in my party dress."

"no. you're not invited anymore," hannah said. "you are not coming to the bar in a party dress."

"listen, biatch, if i'm dragging my ass all the way out to another borough to see you, then i will be wearing a party dress. and if i'm going to watch football, then i will watch it in a party dress. so if you have a problem with that, you need to give me back the other half of our bff friendship necklace," i said. sometimes i have to set hanni straight when she gets out of line.

"fine. wear your party dress. loser," she said, caving in. she loves that $5 claire's necklace.

so that's that. i now have plans for superbowl sunday. now if i could just find something to do tonight. rusty is passed out on the couch next to me and kyle is passed out in the bedroom. i guess it's just me, my sweats, and my dvr'd jersey shore episodes tonight. suh-weet.

two years

2011-02-03T16:14:00.001-08:00

my dad carried this picture in his wallet until he died.

i'd like to point out that in california, you can wear practically nothing in the snow and not be cold. yet one more reason i need to be back in california.

clearly i inherited not only my dad's good looks, but also his keen sense of style.

daddy and me at my graduation from ucla. this picture was in my classroom for years and it never ceased to make me laugh when a parent would ask if that was my husband. siiiick...

i ran the san diego marathon in 2007 with team in training. i finished in first place. psych! i raised $14,000 for leukemia and lymphoma research and ran the marathon in 5 hours and 59 seconds. my goal was under 6 hours. yet another example of how i exceed my goals.

this is what rusty looked like when i adopted him. i know i shouldn't laugh when i look at this picture, but i do. really hard. when he's being particularly difficult i like to whip out this picture and say, "oh yeah, well remember when you used to look like this? i could send you back to THAT family, young man, and you wouldn't be so pretty anymore!"

today marks two years since my dad died.

i went through most of the day feeling completely numb and trying not to dwell on today's date. i kept myself busy at work and then came home and after eating about five handfuls of trader joe's chocolate cat cookies, i went to the gym. for an hour i distracted myself with cardio and a new book i'm reading, half-broke horses. it's by jeannette walls, who also wrote the glass castle, one of my favorite books of all times. i find that memoirs are my genre of choice. i love getting lost in the triumphs and tragedies of others' lives. it puts mine into perspective.

and then i came home from the gym, showered, and started looking at pictures of my dad. and that is always what hurts the most. the pictures. seeing him young, healthy, and vibrant. seeing him smile. just seeing him. that's when i'm reminded that he was a person who did exist and that i miss him so damn much.

on a night like tonight, i'm grateful for rusty. yes, he's incredibly high maintenance with his wardrobe demands and constant obsession with highlighting his hair, and he's always lecturing me about what a horrible mother i am to him, but he does have some good qualities, too.

i've always wanted a dog, though kyle claims that rusty came along because one night i had a dream that i had a dog and the next day i woke up and decided i needed a dog. while this may be partially true, i will also contend that i've always wanted a little dog that i could dress up and carry in my purse. whatever. i digress.

since middle school i have struggled with depression. i'm also slightly manic. my highs are really, really high and my lows are really, really low. my family, close friends and all of my ex-boyfriends can attest to this. i will admit that i bought rusty in one of my more manic states of mind, but i had been wanting a dog for a long time. when my dad was sick with cancer, my depression dipped to an all-time low and i thought that in lieu of meds (which weren't working), i would get a dog. i wanted something that would cheer me up, offer constant companionship and force me to get out of bed in the morning. i also needed a shopping companion that would never, ever bore of going to betsey johnson. i found rusty on craig's list one morning. by that night, i was on a bus up to woodbury commons to get my puppy. we were bff's from the get-go. kyle and my roommate, lani, were none too thrilled, but they eventually came around.

daddy loved dogs. he met rusty a couple of times. he actually referred to himself as rusty's grandpa. one of my favorite memories is the time that i was in san diego visiting my grammy and papa and my dad was there, too. he had just been told, incorrectly, that he was in remission. it was supposed to be a joyous time, but i knew he wasn't completely better. he was really tired and he was complaining about his stomach bothering him. he, unlike me, did not suffer from a plethora of ibs issues and it was only a matter of a couple months before we learned that the cancer was in his stomach. and that was what finally killed him.

while i was in san diego, my dad and rusty were able to bond. daddy thought it was hilarious the way rusty would run around along the back of the couch, stumbling on the cushions. he would say, "jess, i think your dog thinks he's a little mountain goat." i can still hear the laughter in his voice when he said it. and then one night when i was ready to go to sleep, i walked around the house looking for rusty. when i finally found him, he was snuggled up next to my dad in bed. i tried to take him and my dad insisted that rusty sleep with him. how could i say no? thinking about it now makes me cry.

i often look at rusty and am reminded of my dad. i feel like rusty is my link to him and that because rusty knew my dad, my dad is somehow still with me each day. and rusty has helped with my depression. when i'm sad, rusty is by my side in a heartbeat. he starts licking me and giving me puppy kisses, which then cause me to break out in hives. in the moment, though, it's comforting and always makes me laugh.

new year. new me.

2011-01-31T17:03:00.001-08:00

new year's eve. all decked out in betsey dress, tights, shoes and bracelet.

crinkle spandex sheath dress. this dress is h-o-t-t HOT.

note: to wear a dress like this, one must abstain from getting chocolate wasted...

http://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/index.jsp?productId=10948090

br bows hinged bangle. love love love this bracelet and it's only $30.

http://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/index.jsp?productId=10871840

karie polly's with bow. super comfy shoes. i tell customers that they're "ballroom dancing" shoes, but really, i think they're stripper shoes.

http://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/index.jsp?productId=4363728

for the first time in years, i managed to get home from work, run errands, walk rusty and have a nice, long workout at the gym. i did all of this before 5 o'clock.

i'm in a transitional phase of life right now. i quit a job that was incredibly stressful. a job that i loved, but that was consuming every ounce of my being. a job that made me the worst version of myself.

i came home every night completely drained. my anxiety level was so high that i couldn't sleep at night and despite my steady diet of vegan junkfood, i was losing weight faster than my sister lost her virginity in high school. my goal was to make it until summer, but when you've lost so much weight that you no longer fit into a size 0 betsey and you're so miserable that neither your husband nor your dog want to spend time with you anymore, something has to give.

i took a big risk. i'm now working half the hours i used to work and making half the money i used to make. i'm building my resume in a new direction and i realize that this experience is invaluable to the work that i hope to pursue later, but it's killing my betsey budget. in fact, i've essentially cut myself off. i'm now at the whim of the sample list and my one free beej a month. it is brutal seeing all the pretty new dresses and not being able to shop.

but...

for the first time in nearly five years, i feel free. i feel like i can breathe. at night i can sleep. i have an appetite again and i've gained back a couple of pounds. this is probably because i'm bloated from getting chocolate wasted all the time, but that's beside the point.

i've been able to actually use my equinox membership. and when i work out now i have energy. i can do an hour of cardio again. don't go thinking that i'm THAT fit. an hour of cardio for me means rocking out to t. swift while reading my nook on the stairmaster. nothing fancy. however, if you've worked out at the nox, you know that the best thing about working up a sweat is that you get to cool off with the chilled eucalyptus towels afterwards. ohhh-emmm-gee. every time i get one of those towels i'm tempted to put it down my pants.

i smile more. i have time to see my friends. i am reading for pleasure again. in fact, i've read two books in the last week, something else i haven't done in years because i always felt guilty. i can sleep an hour and a half later in the morning and when i leave for work, it's light outside! when i leave work at the end of the day, it's still light! yesterday when i left, it was sunny and i just walked and walked for blocks enjoying the sunshine. i didn't even care that it was cold. i was just happy to be outside in the afternoon and free to have the rest of the day to myself.

i feel like i'm living again and that my life isn't slipping away.

my dad died too young. this week marks the two year anniversary of his death from cancer. when i think about his life, i am often saddened because i don't think he lived it to the fullest. i think he suffered from depression and i know that i have the same disposition. i also know that my previous job exacerbated this part of myself. life is so short. it has to be lived to its absolute fullest and spending every waking moment working didn't leave me any time to focus on the other aspects of my life that are important to me.

i'm ambitious. i used to think that my career was the most important thing in my life. i used to think that my career defined me. i was convinced that i needed to go all the way to the top. it was really important to me to make six figures by the time i was 30. i realize now that even though this money would have bought me all the betseys my heart desires, it wouldn't have bought me happiness. and, what's the point of having tons of betseys if i'm too tired to go out and wear them?

my new year's resolution was to put my health, happiness and husband before everything else. last year my resolution was to floss more and i actually ended up getting gum surgery and having to floss five times a day. i thought this was pretty bad-ass as far as resolutions go, but this year i actually accomplished my resolution within three weeks of the new year. my goal now is to adhere to this new lifestyle of balance and happiness before all else. even if it means less betseys.

though word on the street is there's an employee day in march (70% off, bitches!) and a sample sale in april (and if i work the sample sale i get, like, three free dresses)

chocolate wasted

2011-01-31T16:27:00.001-08:00

don't be fooled. he's not as sweet and innocent as he looks.

these are what i should have eaten... much gentler on the stomach and AMAZINGLY delicious. i ate a bag for dinner tonight. oops.

that's what i got saturday night.

i have two vices: bj's and chocolate. since i can't buy any bj's right now, i had to resort to chocolate. and maybe there was also a 99 cent bag of potato chips, but i don't really remember. it was that kind of night.

the night started out innocently enough. i came home from betsey and i was in a bad mood. i hate january. hate it. january makes me think of my dad. since christmas i've just really, really missed him and it hurts so badly. this week marks two years since his death. it's an inconsolable ache. a void that nothing can fill. but last night i tried my damnedest to fill it with chocolate. bad idea jeans.

i have a basket in the cabinet that is my "stress" basket. it's always full because, surprise! surprise! i'm always stressed. i keep it stocked with dark chocolate and any other vegan junk i have. last night i came home and i needed a chocolate fix like rusty needs his loofah dog (those of you that have seen him with loofah dog know what i'm talking about... that poor toy). i ate about 12 pieces of dark chocolate. i was an animal. i got chocolate on my pajamas. chocolate on my arm. no idea how that happened. and then chocolate on the white couch pillow. i guess that happened because of the chocolate that was on my arm. oops.

cramming copious amounts of dark chocolate into my mouth in 2 minutes flat left me completely unsatiated. i needed a better fix. in moments like this, i have to break vegan code. i have to have milk chocolate. so rusty and i decided to go to rite-aid. i don't know what's worse - eating milk chocolate when you're lactose intolerant or going to rite aid in sweatpants and a chocolate-stained in-and-out-burger t-shirt on a saturday night. did i mention that my hair was crimped? i suppose that's an important detail that can help you complete the already pathetic mental picture you have. don't ask why i decided to crimp my hair. often times i do things and have no idea why. crimping my hair before going to work at betsey seemed like such a good idea at the time. unfortunately, it only made me feel worse because my hair looked like a frizzy fucking disaster. so anyway, me, my queer dog and my big-ass hair went to rite-aid.

i've decided there is a drugstore hierarchy. i'd say that duane-reade and cvs are tied for first place and that walgreens would be second place and that rite-aid would be one hundredth. truth. it's like they don't want anyone to shop there. there's trash strewn everywhere in front of the store as an initial warning to keep out. then, those of us that are desperate enough to enter are greeted with big boxes of unpacked shit all over the place, and old people blocking every aisle and arguing with cashiers. items are placed haphazardly on shelves and boxes are so banged up they practically scream, "don't buy me!" given my present state of mind, i'd say i fit right into this place. rusty, on the other hand, was none too thrilled to venture into rite aid.

"c'mon, rusty! mama needs to get her fix. let's go!" i begged, trying not to sound too desperate, even though i was.

"no way, man," he replied. "it's hood in there. and it smells like butt."

"rusty, i'm not going to stand here and argue with you. i'm freezing and i NEED a kit kat, son."

"what? a kit kat? that's what you dragged me here for? uh uh. i am NOT going to allow you to get a kit kat. that shit will fuck you up faster than a magnolia cupcake." as if to prove his point, he sat on the ground and refused to budge.

"first, what have i told you about swearing?" i said. "second, you're being a buzzkill. if you come inside with me i'll take you to petco tomorrow and buy you a new dress."

"ugh. fine. but for the record, i do NOT condone this," he muttered, shaking his head from side to side.

"you don't understand. you have no idea how difficult my life is. you don't know what it's like to be manic or to have horrible pms or to have just quit your job and have no money to spend on bj's. you don't get how much i miss my dad. or how hard it is for me to be so far away from my family right now. your life is candy canes and lollipops and humping loofah dog all day long and sleeping."

"oh yeah? is that what you think?" he growled, "do you have any idea what it's like to be the only kid in school who's had to repeat kindergarten three times? do you know how often i get made fun of because of my headgear? or because my mom's a slut? or --"

"wait, who's telling you your mom is a slut?" i interrupted.

"nevermind. let's go get your kit kat, bitch," he said, leading me into rite-aid.

i bought a family-sized kit kat. not king sized. family size. it feeds a family of 16. i felt a perverse mixture of supreme shame and guilt as well as anticipation as i waited in line to buy it. i tried to ignore rusty as he continued to mutter beneath his breath that this was a horrible idea that i would definitely regret in the morning.

"you're being such a jerk right now, rusty. when you stole that candy bar out of my christmas stocking and got chocolate wasted i didn't chastise you. i called the vet and when she said you weren't going to die i was so relieved that i still didn't even yell at you. instead i let you snuggle with me on the couch and watch big love on demand," i said, tears welling up in my eyes. great. now i was crying in rite-aid. "and now you've made mommy cry! you know once i start i can't stop," i sobbed, gasping for air. the crazy old lady arguing with the cashier over the price of ajax turned around and looked at me like i was crazy. it's so annoying that no one else can hear the things rusty says.

when it was my turn, i quickly paid, desperate to get out of there and continue my breakdown back in the apartment. when we got upstairs i gave rusty a peanut butter treat, hoping it would distract him so he wouldn't run and tell kyle about my chocolate shenanigans. then i plopped myself on the couch and methodically ate my family-sized kit kat until i fell asleep. seriously. i was so chocolate wasted i passed out. on the couch.

the next morning there was hell to pay for my poor choices last. i should have listened to rusty. going forward i intend to make much healthier choices when i eat my feelings.

bj's on jeopardy

2011-01-30T08:30:00.000-08:00

no, i didn't get a camera. i took this pic from the internet. these are the laylaa combat boots. i'm obsessed with them. i want them SO badly because i've recently decided to explore my hipster side and think that these would look adorable with tights and a party dress. obv. plus, they're only $119!

these are sold out of pretty much all the stores, but available online: http://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/index.jsp?productId=11193625

this is how a betsey girl gets her wedge on in the winter - betsey tights and betsey socks. these wedges aren't online and this is actually the last size 8 in the store. if i wasn't totes broke, i'd buy these in a heartbeat.

how freaking adorable are these shoes? they're the elvira wedges. i wore them for 6 hours and they're totes comfy. i only ate shit in them once because i wasn't paying attention and fell down a step. my fault. not the shoes.

http://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/index.jsp?productId=11148466

this was the closest thing to a betsey that rusty could find at petco. kyle has since hidden the dress and necklace someplace too high for me to reach.

here's a nerd alert: i. like. jeopardy.

jeopardy reminds me of snuggling with my mom on the couch as a little kid. it reminds me of vacations at grammy and papa's house in fallbrook, spending all day by the pool and then eating dinner while watching jeopardy, followed by wheel of fortune. coincidentally, this was when i learned that there actually are people outside of the midwest that watch wheel of fortune. and of course, jeopardy reminds me of kyle. i'm incredibly attracted to his vast knowledge of random shit. sexxxy.

sometimes i wonder what it takes to be on jeopardy. i imagine it's a process that goes something like this:

are you attractive? no

are you overweight? yes

are you from the midwest? yes

does the most recent item in your wardrobe date back to 1997? yes

are you a virgin? yes

excellent. one final question: do you have an awkward story to share when alex comes to your stall to chat you up right before double jeopardy? yes

bingo bango. you're in.

i've often dreamed of being on jeopardy. not for the money. though that would be nice and would certainly fund more bj's. unfortunately i lack the wealth of random-ass knowledge. i prefer to stock my brain with valuable knowledge, such as the names of brangelina's children, what happened on real housewives of beverly hills and the dresses in betsey johnson's spring line.

but life can throw you curveballs, so in the event that i ever could be a jeopardy contestant, i've determined the following:

1. i would wear a brand new bj. obv.

2. alex and i would have this conversation:

alex: and jessica comes all the way from new york city where she lives with her husband and her queer yorkshire terrier. jessica, it says here that you've bought over a hundred bj's. is that true?

me: yes. (and then i'd wink and lick my lips seductively.)

alex: it also says that when there was a fire in your building you rescued your bj's instead of your dog. tell us about that.

me: well, alex, one night kyle and i were sleeping and our neighbor came and started pounding on the door yelling, "fire! fire!" i thought it was a ruse, but kyle looked out the window and sure enough, there was a fire in the alley next to our building. we had to evacuate, so i ran to my closet, flung open the door and grabbed as many betseys as my arms could hold. then i ran out the door. kyle stood in the hallway, mouth agape. "ummmm, what about your puppy?" he asked. oops! tee hee hee

and then i would proceed to answer every question incorrectly, unless of course the categories were: bj's, yorkies, reality tv, chick flicks, the office, people magazine, vegan cuisine, polygamy (random fascination ever since i started watching big love), and trader joe's. then i would definitely win. and i would use all my money to buy bj's.

selling bj's

2011-01-29T16:21:00.000-08:00

how many betseys can a girl cram into her closet? 69. convenient.

my youngest sister, ruby, is on the far right with rusty. ruby is wearing one of the first bj's i ever bought. i believe it's called "teen vogue burnout dress" or something like that. it's a classic cut that betsey always carries and i actually have a couple other betseys that have a similar cut. super cute. it just happened to match my wedding colors perfectly (black, white and pale pink). as a gift, i gave her the dress and she was absolutely thrilled -- her first bj ever. i then told her that if she ever grows out of it she has to give it back. my stepmom is a hoarder, so i don't think the dress is going anywhere.

the dress and rusty up close. notice the burnout detail. also, notice how darn cute rusty is. how couldn't he be in the wedding? yes, he's wearing a tux. and of course ruby looks gorgeous. can you believe she's only 11? wtf! i looked like i was 6 when i was 11.

i've been a bj lova for three years. in fact, this month marks the anniversary of buying my first bj. given that i'm an all-or-nothing kind of girl, i naturally bought three bj's at once my first time. then i returned a week later and bought another one. over the past three years i've acquired nearly one hundred bj's.

currently only about 69 bj's reside in my closet. coincidentally this is kyle's favorite number. i try to donate bj's as often as possible and i also give them to my friends and sisters. bet you wish i'd give you a bj right about now, huh?

my mecca is the betsey johnson on 72nd and columbus. it's the first betsey johnson ever and has been there, i believe, for about 30 years. i visited so often and shopped so much that not only did the girls who worked there know me by name, but they also sent me a wedding card and extended the buy one get one free sale for me since i missed it when i was on my honeymoon. if that's not customer service, i don't know what is. they sure know how to keep a girl coming back for more bj's.

this past november kyle, rusty and i stopped into betsey as part of our saturday afternoon routine. kyle and i love to get starbucks and then walk around the neighborhood and even if i don't have money to shop, i like to see what's new and then determine which dresses i will stalk until they go on sale. on this particular day, the manager, erin, asked me if i knew anyone that would be interested in being holiday help.

"ummmm, ME!" i exclaimed.

"it doesn't pay well," she said, as if that would deter me.

"i don't care. i want the discount so badly, i'll work for free. i want another excuse to wear my party dresses. i want to spread my love for bj's to every single girl that walks into the store!" at this kyle rolled his eyes.

"alright, can you work black friday and the day after christmas?" she asked.

"hmmm, let me check my schedule. yes. despite having an insane full-time job, i cannot think of a better thing to add to my already full plate. this is the chance of a lifetime, even if it means overextending myself to the point of a nervous breakdown. when can i start?"

and this was how i started my dream job. it's $10 an hour and 2% commission and sheer heaven. i get free clothes, a sweet discount and i work with a team of great girls who also LOVE LOVE LOVE bj's. these girls put my love of bj's to shame. they're the real deal. they know their shit about bj's. they are experts in the bj realm.

the idea was that i would just be holiday help, but i did such a fantastic job selling bj's that erin asked me if i'd like to stay on and sell bj's on the weekends. "obvi!" i told her. that's like putting a big piece of vegan chocolate cake in front of my face and asking me if i would like to eat the entire thing in one sitting. do you even need to ask?

during the month of december there was a contest. the person that sold the most would be able to walk in the february 14th fashion show at fashion week. now, it goes without saying that this would be the crowning glory of my bj obsession. i could seriously die happy after an experience like this. unfortunately, i missed it by a hair. obviously i'm devastated that i will not be making my modeling debut at fashion week. how else can a 5'5" girl walk the runway? this was my golden opportunity!! effing a, man. effing a.

here's the thing you need to know about me, though: when i put my mind to something i make it happen. i wanted a gay yorkshire terrier that i could dress up and carry in my purse. done. i wanted a really ridiculously good looking husband that knows how to cook. done. i wanted 69 bj's. done. if i want to go to fashion week, i will figure out a way. watch out.

tea and bj's

2011-01-27T14:55:00.000-08:00

the cake. there are two slices in there. two.

sipping my chocolate chai.

i'm wearing the edwardian rose jacquard sweater dress. i paired it with an obnoxious headband, a chunky betsey necklace, tights and my hunters.

eve cotton tape on woven lace strapless dress. the dress i'm now stalking.

now that i'm a lady of leisure, i've taken to having tea at alice's teacup on 73rd and columbus. tuesday i had tea with lani and today i had tea with scanny.

on tuesday i had alice's blend and carrot artichoke soup. it was delish. as lani and i were leaving i saw that there was vegan orange cake and ever since tuesday i've been obsessing over this cake. i obsess over two things (mainly): vegan junk food and bj's. all night i couldn't stop thinking about the cake and how badly i wanted a slice. i actually fell asleep touching myself while still contemplating the cake.

today i went back to the teacup with scanny. while i was waiting for her, i perused the alice's teacup cookbook. i kid you not, there was a picture of some bitches having a tea party and one of them was wearing a betsey! of course. i also wore a betsey to tea today, but i have three enormous pimples (still) on my cheek so i didn't want to draw too much attention to myself. i opted to wear a more subtle beej today. which i then paired with a not-so-subtle gigantic headband. and my hunter boots so that i could stomp in puddles.

today i ordered chocolate chai and a slice of the vegan orange cake. i was so excited for the cake i could barely sit still. my mouth was salivating with anticipation. and then the waitress came out and said they were all out of the cake.

"wtf??? are you kidding me?" i wanted to scream. "there were just two slices! how can it be all gone? who else would want vegan cake when you have a hundred other delectables? are there that many other lactose intolerant bitches up in he-ah?"

apparently in the 45 minutes that i waited to be seated some fat whore ordered both slices of my cake. i'm still fuming. she asked me if i wanted to order something else and when i asked if there were any other vegan options she said she could bring me a bowl of berries with soy milk. i told her what she could do with that bowl of berries and soy milk.

since i couldn't get my cake fix, i left the teacup and decided that for dinner tonight i would try to make the carrot artichoke soup. i googled recipes, but they all had more than four ingredients. unacceptable. they also required me to do things like wash, peel, and chop. who has time for that shit?

solution: i went to trader joe's. obv. it's now located directly across the street from my apartment. (note: trader joe's, starbucks and betsey johnson are all in a one block radius of my dojo. in my opinion this is convenient. in everyone else's, it's dangerous. eff them. they don't know anything.) i bought their carrot ginger soup and a bag of frozen artichoke hearts. i threw everything in a pot, added in a ton of salt and pepper and bingo bango. i should write my own cookbook called 2 ingredient vegan. because salt, pepper, and the pot don't count. boom.

enough about food. let's talk bj's. apart from my vegan-orange-cake-obsession, i'm stalking a new beej. it's lovely. it's the perfect valentine's day dress. it just came in last week and i want it. of course now is obv not the time to buy it given the fact that i recently quit my big-girl job. even with my sweet employee discount it's too much money to justify, especially given that rusty desperately needs braces. and a tutor. dammit.

the 4 ingredient vegan

2011-01-27T04:40:00.000-08:00

rusty during his walk this morning. could he be any more miserable?

mmmm... joe joe's. note the box says "all natural."

i thought i was a good wife because i dressed up really cute in betsey johnson dresses. apparently that's not enough. i also need to cook. this is the cookbook that's making me a better wife...

kyle likes it when i cook in my betsey robe.

voila! vegan french toast!

snow day. which means...

i had to walk rusty this morning. it only makes sense since i'm not going to work and i'm trying to be more considerate. i took rusty outside and he looked like he wanted to kill me.

"wtf, man?!?!" he yelled.

"rusty, i told you not to use that language. just go to the bathroom so we can go back upstairs," i pleaded.

"bitch, you didn't even put me in my parka. no wonder i can't pass my spelling tests. i'm too preoccupied with the fact that i'm abused," he muttered as he paced around, trying to find the perfect spot to drop steam.

"don't blame the fact that you've failed kindergarten three times on me, young man! if you would study instead of smoking weed under the bed all day we wouldn't have these problems. and don't think that i won't tell your father about your foul mouth," i warned.

rusty did his business and then the two of us trudged back to the building. i was going to tell kyle about rusty's transgressions, but he was getting ready for work and seemed like he was in a pretty good mood. i donned my betsey johnson robe and decided to get to work on breakfast.

snow days also mean vegan french toast, a delicacy usually saved for the weekends when i have time to cook. yes, i said cook. i actually can and do (occasionally) cook. shutup.

sadly, i didn't get any bj's for christmas this year, but i did get a pearl bracelet to match my pearl necklace.

that line deserves to be by itself for obvious reasons.

anyway, in addition to the pearl bracelet, kyle also wrapped up a box of vanilla joe joe's, which are trader joe's version of vanilla oreos and are absolutely sublime. i pretty much subside off of these cookies and it's a testament to my stress level and insane metabolism that i'm not 300 pounds given the sheer quantities of joe joe's i've consumed in my life. during the month of november i came home and didn't even bother to make dinner, preferring instead to make a dozen trips to the kitchen, each time returning to the living room with a handful of joe joe's. in december i got a little crazy and switched things up, dining on peppermint joe joe's. how festive.

"i wish you wouldn't do that. it's so unhealthy," kyle would say.

"actually, it's healthier than eating an entire meal and then eating cookies," i would stubbornly reply while clutching the box of joe joe's to my chest. rusty sat next to me, licking his snout and praying that i'd share a tasty morsel with him. he was clearly on my side of this battle. "besides, rusty said that joe joe's ARE nutritious because they are all natural. so there." this is the mature way to win arguments.

"you need to stop. coming home and eating a box of cookies for dinner is not normal." then he did the unthinkable. he took the joe joe's and placed them on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet where i couldn't reach them. i sat on the couch and pouted. now what would i eat for dinner? hummus? blah. pasta? blah. brown rice and vegetables? double blah. once you've had joe joe's nothing else compares.

so as a joke, kyle gave me a box of joe joe's as one of my christmas presents. of course by then i'd been joe joe sober for about a week, so i was totes over them. in addition to the joe joe's he also bought me a cookbook called "the 4 ingredient vegan."

"what's this?" i asked, holding up the foreign object.

"a cookbook so that you will eat more healthy food."

"hmmmm... interesting," i murmured, flipping through the glossy pages. "wait! wait just one second, buddy! THIS recipe has more than 4 ingredients!" i said, thrusting the book in his face. "how do you expect me to cook something so complicated?"

"salt and pepper don't count as ingredients, baby, and neither does a pan," he replied with the utmost patience. what a good man. effing a. there was no escaping. i was going to have to cook.

i started off my adventures in vegan cooking with stuffed peppers. they were delicious except for the bell pepper part. try as i might, i just can't get into bell peppers. from there i decided to apply my culinary expertise to vegan quesadillas which were freaking amazing. i've now made them about 19 times. what can i say? i find something i like and i eat it for about 9 days straight, breakfast, lunch and dinner. and then i discovered french toast. omg. delish. so easy to make and absolutely perfect to eat during the winter when it's so damn cold. and who knew that vegan butter could taste so much like regular butter? seriously. who knew.

rusty and i ate our vegan french toast while watching the most recent episode of big love on demand. clearly this is going to be a very good day. next up, a bath for rusty and then cleaning the apartment so that kyle doesn't beat me when he gets home. wow, did i really just write that? totes inappropes.

i wore it first

2011-01-26T10:23:00.000-08:00

kyle and me at del posto on my birthday, january 24, 2009. (that is one big-ass centerpiece behind us. clearly mario doesn't f around with his floral arrangements.)

this is the pasta i'm obsessed with right now. (i really need to learn how to embed these images in the paragraphs of my blog so that there's more context...)

cast of glee wearing MY betsey, but wearing it all wrong.

i figured out how to change the name of my blog! i suppose i'm more tech savvy than i thought. now if i could just figure out a way to change the web addy to reflect my new title. or maybe not. i don't really want to know what would come up if someone searched i heart BJ's... i also figured out how to make the entire page pink. i think that i can do nothing else for the rest of today since clearly i've already been incredibly productive. clearly.

when i was in 5th grade my stepmom bought me tons of cute clothes from limited too and i was, like, the coolest girl in school because no one else had clothes from limited too. i used to strut around the playground in my leggings and oversized sweaters thinking i was hot shit. cuz i was. duh. everyone else got their clothes from gap kids because there wasn't a limited too at the closest mall. (funny that it's now about twenty years later and leggings and oversized sweaters are in again!)

then one day, everything changed. while shopping at the mall i saw a sign saying that limited too would be opening soon. i burst into tears.

"what's the matter?" my mom asked, deeply concerned.

"limited too is coming!" i sobbed.

"yes, i see that. aren't you excited? that's your favorite store?" clearly she didn't get it, so i was going to have to spell it out for her.

"now EVERYONE will have the same clothes as me!!!!!"

"you're being ridiculous," was her answer and then the conversation was over, but i continued to brood for the rest of the evening. the next day at school i told my homies sarah and brianna that limited too was coming to stonestown galleria, but that they weren't allowed to shop there.

"you can't tell us where to shop," sarah said. god, i hated her. i'm friends with her on facebook now, but i seriously hated her back then.

"oh yes i can and i just did, so what's up now, biatch?" then i took my koosh ball and my barbie lunch box and trotted off to play tetherball with the asians. (i grew up in san fran. enough said.)

long story short, sarah ended up going to limited too the first chance she got and buying all the same clothes as me. i was livid. i felt that i was the only person at lawton elementary that should be able to wear a mustard yellow sweatshirt with the limited too logo emblazoned across the front and a denim baseball cap with the same logo. dammit! this was essentially the end of our friendship.

fast forward twenty years and i would like to believe that i've matured. for one, i no longer shop at limited too. i now prefer the finer things in life like F21 (forever 21, duh) and betsey johnson. i also find that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and am proud to say that i've inspired a love of betsey in several friends and ALL of my sisters. little did i know that i also seem to have inspired the cast of glee and holly madison, as both have been seen wearing one of my betseys. but i wore it first.

there's nothing to watch on television on tuesday nights. by default, i end up watching glee. don't hate. i watch it for the BJ's. obv. most recently, i was watching an episode in which they were competing at state or something (i don't watch it enough to have any idea what is happening) and they were wearing the same betsey that i wore two years ago when kyle proposed to me! i was not at all pleased to see that they had tied a red string around the waist, added a halter, and paired the dress with leggings (seriously?). seeing the cast in my betsey dress, twirling on the screen, i could almost ignore the gay singing. almost.

"oh my god! oh my god! oh my god! oh my god!" i screamed, jumping up from the couch.

"wha-wha-what?" kyle exclaimed, running into the living room from the bedroom, a truly worried look on his face that quickly became one of annoyance when he saw that i was not dying, but in fact prancing in front of the television.

"look at the dress! LOOK! do you recognize it? do you?"

"no."

of course. oh well, not important. i did recognize it and that's all that mattered. while some girls may be upset that the man in their life doesn't recognize articles of clothing, i don't mind because it means that i can keep buying more and he is unlikely to notice.

"that's a nice dress, baby. is it new?"

"no."

end of discussion.

then, the other night i was watching holly's world, which i've decided is far more interesting than keeping up with the kardashians because i can scour the show for betseys. while watching holly's world, i counted about five different betsey pieces, including, oh yes, THE DRESS. the same one that was on glee. my proposal dress. at the very beginning of the show holly is wearing a black and white dress and it's my dress. once again i tried to point this out to kyle and once again he didn't care.

as i sat watching holly's world, i decided that i want to be her. minus hef. and minus the fact that her choreographer just told her she needs to lose weight. fortunately, i have the opposite problem right now and have actually been eating copious amounts of pasta to try and put some l-bees back on. (note: trader joe's penne arrabbiata is the most delicious pasta i've had in my life. it's totally vegan AND totally amazing. sprinkle it with some nooch and it's a party in your mouth.)

since kyle clearly wasn't going to indulge me in a discussion of all the betsey pieces that holly and her friends were wearing, i texted erin, my friend who is also the manager at betsey on columbus avenue (the original betsey) and proceeded to list every single shirt, skirt and dress that i saw. she told me that she looked holly up in the computer and that "she buys." that actually made me feel better. i thought maybe she got her betseys for free because she's famous, but it turns out she has to buy her shit, too. so maybe i don't want to be her after all...

i'm baaaaaack

2011-01-25T14:07:00.001-08:00

i wish i was tech savvy. i also wish i hadn't eaten an entire sleeve of oreos before falling asleep on the couch while watching big love last night. oops. and i wish i'd washed my face. i have three pimples due to the fact that i didn't. double oops.

anyway, back to wishing i was tech savvy. if i was tech savvy, i would know how to keep this blog, but be able to change the name. upon contemplating the name of this blog, i realize that it's rather stupid and not all encompassing enough. i would prefer that it be i heart BJ's. i've decided, in typical ADD-Jess-fashion that i'm going to begin blogging again, but this time i'll be spending a LOT of time discussing BJ's, something i consider myself to be quite the expert in.

those of you that know me well, will find this as no surprise. why wouldn't i dedicate an entire blog to BJ's? who doesn't love BJ's? you're probably thinking to yourself right now, how many BJ's has jess bought in her life? how many has she gotten for free? what's jess' favorite type of BJ? don't worry, all these questions and more will be answered so long as i actually commit to writing blogs about BJ's instead of just spending every waking moment thinking about BJ's.

caveat: upon writing the above paragraphs, i realized that there may be some confusion. by "BJ's" i mean betsey johnson dresses. obv. what did you think i meant?

xoxo

(this is my new way of ending my posts because this is what betsey does and i want to be JUST LIKE HER.)

p.s. this post is dedicated to ethel. thanks for believing in me even if i did procrastinate for over a year before finally writing another post.

babysitting

2009-04-25T13:46:00.000-07:00

anyone and everyone knows that teachers do not make enough money to finance a wedding in nyc – even if their portion of the wedding budget spreadsheet (yes, there’s a spreadsheet) is minimal. in order to help pay my portion, and hopefully then some, i’ve returned from my 15-year babysitting hiatus.

meet christopher. the mere fact that he has the same name as one of my ex boyfriends AND a kid in my class that i absolutely cannot stand, should have been reasons enough for me not to accept this gig. but desperate times call for desperate measures.

a few months back i put an ad on craigslist pertaining to my sweet tutoring skills and christopher was the lucky recipient of said sweet skills because christopher’s father was the only person who responded to my ad. when I spoke with christopher’s father on the phone prior to our first meeting, he casually warned, “christopher’s a fourth grader and he needs a bit of support studying for the NY State ELA test, especially with the writing portion. oh, and, ummmm… christopher’s… a… bit… hyper... cough cough.” i pictured the christopher in my classroom, incessantly squirming on the rug, practically foaming at the mouth, while i'm trying to teach. immediately i erased the image from my mind and, rather than politely decline the offer, i shrugged my shoulders and cheerily said, “great! no worries!” because beggars can’t be choosers. or whatever that saying is.

christopher’s parents are divorced and the first time i tutored him it was at his father’s apartment. christopher was indeed hyper, but nothing i couldn’t handle, and his dad was in the next room so he didn’t dare mess around too much. plus, I was making 25 bucks an hour, so what did i care? the more hyper and unfocused, the better because every extra minute equalled one more peso in my pocket. in fact, whenever the kid got up to sharpen his pencil, which was pretty much every nanosecond, i threw some more marshmallows in his cocoa for good measure.

the next time i tutored christopher it was at his mother’s house and holy shit, he was like a demon child. despite the fact that his mother was right there, he refused to read, opting instead to run around the apartment and hide all the papers i’d painstakingly downloaded and printed just moments before. he refused to write, saying he didn’t have any sharp pencils (because he kept accidentally breaking them while purposely stabbing them into the table). and then he started yelling at me that he didn’t need tutoring and that no one else in his class had a stupid tutor. so this time there were no marshmallows because i couldn’t wait to get the hell out of dodge. annoyed and eager to leave, i told his mom, "i think he's right. he's ready for the test. so, ummm, you can pay me now and i'll just be on my way."

about a month after that satan’s mother called and asked if i’d be interested in babysitting. i was indeed interested in babysitting, but not her child. so i said yes because desperate times like my expensive bj habit (betsey johnson, perv!) and the pressures of financing a wedding, call for desperate measures. besides, it had been at least a month since our last encounter and absence makes the heart grow fonder. and forgetful. perhaps this time would be better, i told myself.

unfortunately, the timing couldn’t have been worse, as the day i was supposed to babysit also turned out to be the day i found out my dad died. a normal person would have received the news, left work, and cleared their calendar. normal being the key word in that sentence. i, however, received the news, walked back into my classroom, taught the rest of the day in a numbing stupor, and then went and babysat as if my world was not crashing down around me. and, of course, as if my day was not already bad enough, christopher was a complete asshole for the entire 4.5 hours i spent with him. he bossed me around, talked down to me, yelled at me, and refused to listen to anything i said. i left that night vowing never to babysit again.

i didn’t hear from christopher’s mother or father for over a month after that. i figured christopher must have bitched and moaned about how mean i was-- how i didn't let him watch tv until his homework was finished, how i didn't let him eat dessert because he hadn't finished his dinner, how i actually made him go to bed on time, how i smacked him across the face when he talked back to me. just kidding. i didn't. but i wanted to.

and then last week i got a call from his mom, asking me to babysit once again. i was on spring break and spending my week doing nothing but doctor appointments because i couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be more exciting than that. i wanted to use my doctor appointments as the perfect excuse for not being able to babysit, but my determination to contribute as much money as possible to the wedding fund rendered me helplessly honest. i told her i could babysit, but i would have to bring Christopher with me to my dentist appointment. good thing i’d already seen my box doctor earlier in the week because THAT would have been awkward.

so i pick up christopher and he’s up to his usual obnoxious antics. it was a rainy day, so of course instead of holding his umbrella like a sweet little fourth grader should, he walks down the street purposely jabbing me in the back and smacking my ass with it. at one point i yanked it out of his hands and told him he'd better knock it off or i’d beat the shit out of him right in the middle of the sidewalk in front of everyone. i didn't say shit. but i did say the rest. and he seemed to get the point. for the remainder of the walk, he dragged his feet, refusing to stand anywhere near me. when i finally looked back at him before crossing the street at columbus and 90th, he was an entire block behind me.

we arrived at the dentist. i was petrified to leave him alone in the waiting room. the entire time my teeth were being cleaned, i envisioned christopher spearing the receptionist with his goddamn umbrella. but when i finally reentered the room, i was pleasantly surprised to see him sitting quietly, engrossed in a highlights magazine (is there any dentist that doesn’t subscribe to highlights?).

“wow!” i exclaimed. “you are sitting so nicely, christopher! i'm so impressed that you behaved so well,” i enthused.

he put the magazine down, and then loudly whispered, “i took a huge dump in the bathroom while i was waiting for you.”

“what?” i asked, trying to hold my smile, not sure if i’d just heard what i thought i’d heard.

“i said, ‘I TOOK A HUGE DUMP IN THE BATHROOM WHILE I WAS WAITING FOR YOU!’” he shouted and then continued, “BECAUSE IT TOOK SO LONG!”

“okay, well, let’s go now,” i said, trying to ignore him and all the faces that were staring at us. and, trying not to let him see how hard i was trying not to laugh.

“and it left a brown spot on the toilet,” he boasted. and at that i busted up laughing because of the insanity of the entire situation. because WHO goes to a dentist appointment on their spring break? and WHO agrees to babysit on their spring break? and WHO hasn’t taken a dump like that before? besides me, of course, because i’m a lady.

christopher and i walked back to his apartment and i have to admit i had a newfound tolerance for him. i allowed him to bully me with the umbrella and pester me about my fiancé and why anyone would want to marry me. we got back to the apartment and i decided that my new babysitting tactic would be to just let christopher do whatever he wanted for the rest of the afternoon because a) he’s not my child and b) he’s not a student in my classroom so therefore why should I give a flip what he does. and the afternoon went quite smoothly with him playing video games and me picking split ends from my hair and wondering, again, how my life had come to this.

tonight i’m babysitting yet again. as i was helping christopher with his long division homework i noticed he kept doing this weird twitching thing. finally i said, “stop doing that! you’re creeping me out.”

“doing what?” he asked, confused.

“that strange twitching thing. THAT! you did it again! knock it off and do your homework so we can go play with your wii.”

but he didn’t stop. the entire night he twitched, which made me think that maybe he really is possessed. so now i’m wondering if this kid has tourettes or something, but i’m afraid to ask his dad because i don’t want to seem rude. so i just let christopher twitch the night away while he played mario galaxy on wii and i zoned out, feeling old because nintendo graphics are SO much better than when i was a kid. i now understand why parents let their kids play video games for hours; entranced by the game, christopher was the calmest i’ve ever seen him. apart from the uncontrollable twitching that is.

while christopher played wii, i partook in one of the best parts of babysitting – rummaging through the kitchen for goodies. i perused the fridge and every single cabinet hoping to find some twinkies or oreos or, at the very least, a bag of doritos. i found none of the above. instead, i came up with half a bag of newman’s organic pretzel sticks. i couldn’t believe it! is this what babysitting has come to-- twitching kids strung out on wii and half a bag of newman’s organic pretzel sticks? i suppose i should be grateful that i even found a healthy vegan option instead of crap that would make me feel sick and guilty, but i still felt disappointed! i was imagining the cabinets of the families i babysat for in middle school, brimming with quaker chewy granola bars, chips ahoy, poptarts, and every other form of overly-processed crack in a pack. defeated, i took my sad bag of pretzels back to the couch and started mindlessly munching away while christopher twitched on. despite my disappointment at having only discovered a bag of organic pretzels, i actually found them to be deliciously satiating. i think pretzels are consistently overlooked because at first glance they seem so boring. once you start eating them, though, they are so ridiculously good. the combination of crunchy and salty really hits the spot. and newman does his pretzels just right. this was my first experience with his rods, but i found it incredibly enjoyable. that’s what she said. i’m also a fan of the honey pretzels (which are not technically vegan, but i do not ascribe to the whole anti-honey thing) and the spelt pretzels, which are amazing when dipped in hummus. but what isn’t amazing dipped in hummus?

long after the time christopher was supposed to go to bed, i finally told him to wrap up the game and hit the sack. i think all the twitching must have really tuckered him out because the second his head hit the pillow he was out. we did have a little moment, though, right before he mounted the ladder to the top bunk, during which he showed me some of his artwork that’s plastered haphazardly all over his room. i genuinely complimented him, as he is actually quite talented. he said, “well, I’m a good artist and you’re a good babysitter.” damn straight, son.

dieting for dummies

2009-04-19T12:17:00.000-07:00

over the course of the past year i have lost about 15 pounds. in february, i lost 5 more. now, don't get your panties all up in a wad of excitement thinking that you, too, can lose that much weight going vegan. you will also need to do the following:

1. get a job that forces you to be anorexic. teaching is a good start. you are on your feet all day long and so busy you barely remember to take breaks to pee and when you do, you typically forget to wipe. though you do remember to wash your hands because if you didn't, that'd be gross. if you don't have time to pee, you definitely don't have time to eat.

2. find something that consumes you with worry and so much stress that you are either a) not hungry or b) not able to stop shitting out your emotions. for me, it was my dad. last june the oncologists at stanford university declared that after 2 years of battling lymphoma, he was finally in remission. last august, the cancer came back. with a vengeance. by january, he was in the hospital and not leaving. or, at least not leaving alive.

3. spend your money on things other than food. like, for example, betsey johnson dresses. buy 3 brand new dresses, 2 of which are not even on sale, because they are pretty and for a moment, they make you forget about how sad you are. then feel so guilty about the money you spent, that you decide to save money by not buying food. tell yourself the dresses will look even better on your svelte figure. good plan.

4. get sick. frequently. this can be easily accomplished if you do it in conjuction with recommendation number 1. recommendation number 2 can perpetuate it and, obviously, recommendation number 3 also precludes the purchase of nutrients vital to your survival, so this will take care of the "frequently" aspect of this particular course of action.

losing 15 pounds made a slight difference in my appearance, as i was never a big girl to begin with. i dropped from a perfect size 2 to a bit below 0. but i liked being skinny and finally not feeling so gross about my body.

when i flew home to california this past november for my mom's surprise 50th birthday party, she declared, "YOU are too skinny" before she even said hello. then, this past christmas, my family clamored considerably over the fact that i looked "too thin". my stepmom compared my body to that of a little boy. i ignored her, though, as i have grown accustomed to ignoring most things she says. besides, given that i've never really had boobs whereas my other sisters do, i've grown accustomed to looking like a little boy. sticks and stones, biatch. i am still wondering, though, how she knows i have a penis.

my dad died on february 3. his funeral was on the 16th. or maybe the 17th. i've somewhat blocked it from my memory. in the time between his death and funeral, i lost 5 more pounds. these 5 pounds can be attributed to numbers 2, 3, and 4 above. mostly 2 and 4, though. and probably also to the fact that when i am upset, it hits me in the stomach. it probably wouldn't have mattered how much i ate, if i had wanted to eat anything, my butt would have still rebelled and purged everything. even now, just thinking about my dad, i feel like i need to run to the bathroom. and of course, when i flew home for the funeral, i was confronted with a barrage of remarks about my figure. while some were coming from a place of concern, like my mom, who simply said, "jessica, you are too thin", others were meant to be nasty and hurtful, which sucked because i was already hurting enough.

it amazes me that there is such a double-standard pertaining to weight-related comments. people seem to think it's perfectly fine to tease, taunt, or talk trash to a thin person about their body. yet, it's rude to say anything impolite to a fat person. for example, it would be completely inappropriate for me to ask my cousin if she's pregnant again, even though she looks like it. and it would also be out of line for me to tell my stepmom that she should use all the energy she expends talking about how fat she is to drag her ass to the gym.

about a month ago my appetite finally returned. and with it, so did the 5 pounds i lost in february. to appease those that are relentlessly harassing me about my weight, i decided to visit a nutritionist. her name is mel. she is on 96th and west end. she is fantastic. when i told her i'm vegan and i explained my reasons for going vegan (mostly my OCD-like obsession with warding off cancer), she did not judge. a former vegan herself, she offered me some easy, tangible solutions for improving my diet while still remaining true to my desire to be healthy and as free from cancer-causing-agents as possible.

i went to trader joe's today and, ignoring number 3, purchased several of the foods that mel recommended -- whole grains that are not pre-cooked, tofu, tons of beans in several varieties, colorful fruits and veggies, basically all the things that i already knew i should be eating but needed to fork over a $30 co-payment to be reminded of. the good news is that for the first time since i became vegan about a year ago, i will actually be eating healthfully. the way a good vegan should. the way that i intended to when i made the choice to become vegan. the bad news, though, is that i am now going to have to start cooking.

are girl scout cookies vegan?

2009-04-19T11:10:00.000-07:00

a few months ago victoria, one of my lovely little scholars and a budding entrepreneur, came to school with a girl scout cookies order form.

"ms. reid," she said, "i'm selling cookies. you want some?"

"obvi!" i declared in my state of overzealous excitement, despite the fact that girl scout cookies are definitely not vegan and despite the fact that i shouldn't be using slang in front of 6-year-olds that think ebonics is okay. anyway, i digress. i bought 4 boxes, only hesitating for a moment when i saw that each box now costs $3.50 (and $4.00 in california! wtf?!). i then sent victoria around the school under the guise of selling cookies to all the other teachers when in reality, i just really needed a break from her.

the next day taniqua came to school and handed me her girl scout cookie order form. she didn't even need to ask me if i wanted to buy anything, because clearly the words "easy sale" were blazing across my forehead (and "gluttonous pig" across my ass). so i bought 4 boxes from taniqua as well. because i had to be fair!

apart from the fact that i absolutely love cookies, i have an especially soft spot for girl scout cookies. i was once a girl scout and when it came to selling cookies, i didn't mess around. so of course, now that i am no longer a girl scout and i have the money to purchase the cookies and spread that joy to the little girls selling them, how can i possibly not go all out and buy several boxes of thin mints and do-si-dos. it's charity! c'mon! victoria and taniqua need to get their cookie badges for their uniforms!

fast forward to d day, as in delivery day, when 8 beautiful boxes of cookies were hand-carried to my classroom. 8 perfectly petite boxes of cookies covered in photographs of what look to be mentally-challenged girl scouts. or maybe they are all just having a lot of fun and in need of braces. anyone whose seen a girlscout cookie box knows what i'm talking about. all day long these cookies sat in my classroom closet and all day long i heard them calling to me, "jeeeeeesssssssiiiiiiicccccaaaa!" and all day long i ignored them, thinking to myself, "girl scout cookies are not vegan. i will not eat them. i will bring them home and give them to kyle." and i was quite good at convincing myself that i actually wouldn't eat them and that i actually would bring them all home and give them to kyle. until dismissal. after i dismissed the children, i bolted back up the stairs, shut and locked my classroom door, ripped open a box of thin mints and began shoving them down my trachea. in about 2 minutes i managed to consume an entire box of thin mints and an entire box of do-si-dos (because i'm an equal opportunity eater).

and i felt... disappointed.

not disappointed at myself for succumbing to the call of the cookies. not disappointed because i now had 2 less boxes of cookies to share with kyle. not disappointed because i got chocolate crumbs all over my vintage betsey johnson dress that i then tried to rub off, but instead managed to rub in. disappointed because they didn't taste the way that they were supposed to taste.

since becoming a vegan, my tastebuds have certainly changed. given that i feast mostly upon vegan junkfood, it's no wonder that eating girl scout cookies left a metallic aftertaste in my mouth. that being said, i'm convinced that someone changed the cookie recipe. to test out this theory, i did the following:

1. discussed my theory with my mom, who, of course, agreed with me because she is my mom and because she probably was not paying any attention to what i was prattling on about.

2. took the remaining boxes of cookies home and over the course of the next 3 days, demolished each box in its entirety. this was a necessary evil because:
a. having formed my hypothesis, i needed to run a series of fair tests in order to prove it.
b. watching american idol causes me such anxiety that i needed to munch on something.
c. kyle said the cookies were gross and he didn't want them. (why can't i be so reasonable?)
d. i was pms'ing.
e. actually, i wasn't, but i like to use that as my excuse for every despicable thing i do.

and here are the conclusions that i came to:

1. girl scout cookies are not vegan and given my sensitive tummy, i should not have consumed so many. enough said.

2. girl scout cookies are not as good as they used to be and therefore the recipe has definitely changed. having consumed copious amounts of said cookie, i am now an expert who can make such a statement.

3. i miss my dad.

and i think number 3 is the real reason that girl scout cookies just don't taste as good anymore. because, quite honestly, since he died in february, nothing really tastes that good. i keep looking for the mystery comfort junk food that will somehow make my hurting go away and i really, really hoped that thin mints would do it. and when they didn't, i hoped that the do-si-dos would. and when neither one of them did, i hoped that eating both in conjunction with watching adam lambert kick ass while pretending not to be gay on american idol would. and then i hoped that eating all of them until i was sick to my stomach and rolling around on the floor in pain would. and nothing did.

my dad loved thin mints. he used to put them in the freezer because he thought they tasted better that way. i hated that he did that because i have sensitive teeth and anyone with sensitive teeth knows how much really cold food hurts. so when i got my thin mints, i put them in the refrigerator because i figured that was a happy medium and still a subtle tribute to my dad. (also, i thought if they were in the fridge i'd forget about them just like i forget about all the vegetables i put in the fridge.) i guess eating each box in front of the television was a more appropriate tribute, though, as that's what my dad typically did.

i'm so glad he's able to watch me from heaven and see what great things i'm doing with my life.

starbucks for the vegan soul

2009-03-16T15:48:00.001-07:00

i didn't get my caffeine fix this morning from starbucks.

and then i got hit by a car.

but don't worry. i survived. obviously. or i wouldn't be typing right now. i don't love blogging so much that i'd be doing it were i lieing in a hospital bed. i'd be watching all of my sex and the city dvds beginning with season 1, espisode 1 and shoveling cherry jello down my trachea. duh.

every morning on my way to work i stop off at the starbucks on 73rd and columbus. i've been frequenting this 'bucks since early october and i now consider it a home away from home. because it's early in the morning and no one else is usually there, the baristas don't mind when i order one of the following obnoxious drinks:

1. a tall soy misto with just a pinch of coffee and mostly steamed soy milk -- extra hot please
2. a tall chai soy tea misto with half water and half steamed soy milk -- not too hot please
3. a tall soy latte with a whole lotta kick-ass in it because i'm tired and cranky as shit and need a little pick me up

they know me so well there now that they see me walk in and immediately have my drink ready for me on the bar. i'm not sure how it is they've figured out what exactly i'm going to order, but it may have something to do with the following:

1. i order tall soy mistos when it's cold as f**k outside -- which has pretty much been every waking moment of this winter.
2. i order the tall chai soy tea misto when i am feeling especially good-looking and optimistic -- though how they can see my cute outfit underneath my bulky coat still alludes me. they must have x-ray vision, which means i should probably shave more often...
3. i order the tall soy latte when i haven't slept well in days and my hair is in a dirty ponytail because i'd rather sleep than shower. they probably smell me as i walk in and just know it's one of those days.

there's this one big, black, lesbionic chick that works at my 'bucks. she is there every morning and i'm not going to lie, but i look forward to seeing her. she thinks it's funny that i pretty much always order the same thing and that i am mostly just paying a shitload of money for soymilk. she tried to hook me up once by explaining that if i bought the starbucks black card, my soy would be free. even though i probably should have taken her up on the offer, i felt incapable of making such an important decision at quarter to seven in the morning. plus, if she really wanted to help a sista out, she'd just give me my damn drink for free.

i've decided that i must be the morning crew's favorite customer because on days that i do not come and grace them with my presence, they notice. the next day, they'll be like, "hey! hey! where you been, girl?!?" actually, they don't really say that. but they do notice i've been away and they do say something, it just doesn't sound that ethnic.

when i was away a lot this past january because my dad was in the hospital and we knew it was the end, i really missed my starbucks fix so i started going to the starbucks near my parents' home. although i got my fix for much cheaper, i missed my friends. so when i came back to nyc after a particularly upsetting trip home, i was actually pleased when my girlfriend at starbucks asked me where i'd been.

"we haven't seen you in a while," she said as she passed me my drink of choice that day, a tall-soy-misto-with 1/10 coffee and 9/10 steamed-soy-milk-in-a-grande-cup-extra-hot. "we was wonderin' where you been. we had yer drink ready, but you ain't never showed up." damn. talk about service. (oh, and, yes, that was a direct quote.)

"yeah, i know," i said. and then rather than keep my mouth shut, i blurted out, "my dad died and i was at home in california." i then proceeded to take my coffee and run out of starbucks like an idiot because i was so embarrased. the worst part was that i forgot to grab one of those stupid cardboard cup condoms to keep me from burning my hands on my extra-hot drink. what a dumbass.

as much as i felt like a complete fool for saying something so dumb, i feel like it's opened up a dialogue between me and my starbucks possie. although they still are not hookin' me up with free goodies, we've progressed beyond me blurting out awkward statements about the death of my dad and instead telling them stories about my first-graders. they seem to think my stories are hilarious, which is nice, because as someone that experiences these stories on a daily basis, i find that they mostly just piss me off to no end. but, i'm glad that someone finds humor in meoka picking her nose all day and dabel pissing all over the classroom rug. i'm hoping that if i tell enough stories, they will take pity on me and then they will give me free drinks.

this morning was the first morning in a while that i did not visit starbucks before venturing up to harlem. i didn't think it would have that big of an effect on me, missing one part of my morning routine, but it really f-ed with me psychologically. i think that maybe because i no longer see my therapist, i've started to think of starbucks as my new shrink and hot foamy soy milk as my new prozac. i sat on the train, feeling empty and sad, wishing my book was a warm cup of "you're going to be okay."

i was still feeling upset when i got off the train and started walking toward school. i bumped into one of my co-workers and we started chatting. while outwardly i prattled on about the first-grade writing unit, my internal monologue was something like this: "seriously, jess. get it together. it's just coffee. you'll get it when you get to school. you're fine. be a big girl, stop your pouting, quit being such a pu --"

and then i got hit by a car.

yes. a car. a speeding car that was barreling down the street and took a really sharp turn as I was stepping into the crosswalk. it completely side-checked the entire right side of my body, but fortunately my toes were spared and all limbs remained intact. unfortunately, it was filthy as f**k and my brand new spring trenchcoat got all dirty. i wasn't hurt, but i felt completely rattled and if it hadn't been for my co-worker, i would have burst into tears right then and there, not because of the stupid car or the fact that i could have been really hurt or the fact that i was outraged that the driver did not even stop to see if i was okay, but because i didn't have my coffee and i really, really just wanted my coffee.

when i got to work, my friend nichol had a tall soy misto waiting for me. it was still warm and absolutely delicious. having a sip of the drink immediately made me feel better. as an added bonus, i was able to blame my being late to my morning meeting with her and my principal on the fact that i was hit by a car, which was a pretty damn good excuse that, of course, they didn't believe (which is probably good, because it is actually quite embarrassing now that i think about it).

karma's a bitch

2009-03-15T06:32:00.000-07:00

yesterday afternoon kyle insisted that before taking rusty outside we put a shirt on him. heaven forbid he should be naked when it's below 50 degrees. normally i forbid he be naked period, but when he's dirty and desperately in need of a haircut, i prefer to not clothe him so as to not draw any additional attention. he needs a haircut so badly right now that someone may call puppy protective services on me.

so i walked into the bedroom to get rusty's wardrobe out from underneath the bed and my nostrils were greeted with a horrible stench. my first thought was that rusty must have pooped somewhere in the room.

i exclaimed, "oh my god, it stinks!"

kyle quietly agreed, "yeah. it does."

and then i knew... he was the one responsible. i looked at him and asked in an accusatory tone, "did YOU fart?!?!"

he responded nonchalantly with a bit of chagrin, "yup."

i could not believe it. in all of our 21 months together, i have never smelled one of his farts. granted i've heard him do it a few times while he was in the bathroom, or passed out on the couch, but i had completely blocked that out of my memory until the smell of the bomb yesterday hit my nostrils.

walking out of the bedroom, kyle fired back, "mine's nothing compared to what you did in your sleep last night!"

"what did i do in my sleep last night?" i asked innocently, even though my worst nightmare was realizing itself.

"you woke me up with a noise and i was like, 'no way. no she didn't.' but then i smelled it and it was AWFUL!" he explained through a fit of laughter.

normally i would full-on deny this. i would claim that he was making it up just to downplay the complete nastiness of his fart and save our relationship because obviously i cannot marry someone who farts. my dad used to walk around the house ripping the loudest, smelliest farts in the world. he would do it on command, too, like: "hey guys! watch this!" and then scratching his ass or bending over, he'd launch one at the family. i was so horribly emotionally scarred from this experience, that i decided at the tender age of 4 that no man i ever married would display such barbaric antics.

in an effort to save my relationship, i gave kyle one last out. "why didn't you just blame your fart on rusty?! i don't want to know that you fart!!! and, by the way, let's pretend that i never farted in my sleep last night. ok?"

truth be told, i was surprised this was the first time he was telling me that i blew up the bedroom in my sleep. i'd been dreading this conversation since we moved in together last june. i used to lay in bed with my buttcheeks clenched shut for fear of a fart slipping out before he was asleep. each morning, when we'd wake up and greet each other and he'd start a sentence with, "so, last night..." i'd worry that he was going to finish with, "you farted in your sleep!!!!"

i have the propensity to be a gassy girl. don't judge. it's not my fault. it's my dad's fault.

according to "skinny bitch", going vegan was supposed to make me less stinky, but when i eat things like carob-covered raisins, the gas comes back like the cat in the hat.

elise introduced me to carob-covered raisins. i now blame her for the demise of my relationship. since first sampling these wannabe-chocolate-covered-raisins, i've been nothing short of completely obsessed.

to my knowledge, the only store in the hood that sells the raisins is the health food market near elise. they are in a bin right near dark chocolate covered raisins. they look exactly the same, but the carob covered raisins cost more. granted it's a negligable amount more, but still, when you're saving to buy a new betsey johnson, oops, i mean when you're saving for a wedding, every cent counts. so elise, being the crafty girl she is, told me, "make sure when you buy them to say they are dark chocolate raisins." of course i took her up on this advice, mostly because i get an emotional high from telling lies to strangers.

of course i never thought about the karma that would come back to bite me in the ass -- literally. the first time i experienced carob-covered raisins at elise's apartment, my stomach was fine. but ever since then, ever since i've been ingesting dishonest deliciousness, my butt has been rebelling.

so what is the lesson i've learned? because that's the thing with karma, it always teaches you a lesson.

did i learn that i should not tell lies and steal from the health food store? no.

did i learn that i should not eat things that make my ass explode? no.

did i learn the true meaning of love? (because surely if kyle did not end our engagement on the spot yesterday it must mean that we are in the truest deepest sort of love.) mmmmm, no.

this is what i learned: eat your carob-covered raisins when you are alone and you know you'll be alone for at least 5 hours.

my carob-covered raisins are now hidden in the same drawer as my vibrator. enough said.

farewell magnolia

2009-03-14T18:47:00.000-07:00

when people learn that i am vegan, apart from a slew of rude hippie-esque comments, i usually hear an absurd question like, "isn't that so hard?!?!" to which i answer with an equally absurd response of, "that's what she said..." as i always tell my first graders, "ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer." just kidding. i don't say things like that to the children. at least, not to their faces.

i can see why some people think it would be difficult to be vegan, especially since the term vegan implies no meat, dairy, or refined sugar. but if a girl that used to down sleeves of oreos, pints of ben and jerry's, and bags of reese's peanut butter cups like they were going out of style can be a perfectly content vegan, then anyone can.

i heart junkfood. when i am sad i want it to comfort me. when i do something great (which is, like, all the time) i want it as a reward. when i am pms-ing i want it all the time. wait. are we still talking about junkfood? focus, jess, focus.

after a particularly grueling day at work last thursday, on top of an already ridiculously grueling 2 weeks (yes, 2 weeks) of INTENSE pms, i decided it was high-time i got some. and by "some" i meant junkfood. get your mind out of the gutter.

a friend of mine told me about babycakes when i first became vegan last spring. i forgot about it until this past week, when, on thursday, i decided i needed some vegan junkfood like woah. i asked 2 of my coworkers, one of whom is also vegan (i inspired her) and the other of whom is vegan-friendly, if they wanted to venture down to the lower east side (gasp) with me and help me drown my sorrows in all-natural, unrefined deliciousness. naturally, they agreed.

babycakes is located on 248 broome street, between orchard and ludlow. it is a freakin' pain in the ass of a trip for an upper west side girl and the entire train ride i was thinking, "is there something wrong with me that i'm willing to go to almost-brooklyn just for cupcakes, cookies, brownies? is this normal? isn't this what druggies do to get there fix?" i kept covertly looking at my friends to see if they noticed that the closer we got, the more i started to shake...

upon arriving at babycakes, i purchased then immediately sampled (aka shoved into my mouth in its entirety) a spelt vanilla cupcake with chocolate frosting, cornbread, chocolate chip cookies, and brownie bites. if my mouth hadn't been filled with more than i could possibly swallow, i would have screamed in sheer ecstasy. (and, that's what she said.)

i saved a couple of cookies and some brownie bites for kyle to sample. this, of course, took all self-control, as i really, really, really wanted to eat EVERYTHING i bought while riding the train back uptown. kyle, my anti-vegan fiance (isn't that an oxymoron?) was quite impressed with the chocolate chip cookies and the brownie bites, which gives me hope for our future together. (look, kyle, i finally mentioned you in my blog. are you happy now?)

babycakes was so good i dreamt about it thursday night. upon getting my period friday morning (yes, i did just write that), i decided i would celebrate the fact that i'm not pregnant by returning to babycakes this weekend. all day friday i obsessed about the chocolate chip cookies and brownie bites. i was grateful to take a break from obsessing over this new betsey johnson dress i need. yes, need.

i returned to babycakes today with kyle. rusty also wanted in on the action, so we told him he could come, too, but only if he agreed he wouldn't piss in the kitchen this weekend. he was like, "yeah, thure thing guyth!" but i could tell he wasn't being sincere.

upon arriving at babycakes (because the trek is even more difficult on the weekends due to slow-ass trains), i purchased goodies like i was stocking a bomb shelter. i bought a dozen chocolate chip cookies and a dozen brownie bites. since i wasn't actually a huge fan of the cupcake i tried the other night, i decided to opt for a piece of chocolate banana bread and a cinnamon bun. i have yet to sample the chocolate banana bread, which i am using all self-control to save for breakfast tomorrow morning. i did, however, eat the cinnamon bun on a park bench with kyle while sipping my tall earl grey soy tea misto from starbucks (no, i am not high maintenance, just picky). it was amazing!!! definitely the best cinnamon bun i've had in my life and it did not leave me with a stomach ache like cinnabon or pillsbury cinnamon buns did in my previous life as a gluttonous pig. kyle, who was looking super sexy eating chocolate chip cookies and brownie bites, even agreed that the cinnamon bun was delicious. god, i love him.

given my newfound love of babycakes, i have drafted a letter to magnolia bakery, which i intend to deliver by hand tomorrow. it goes like this:

dear old friend,

i remember the first time we met, 5 years ago. i had braces and you had a really f-ing long line out your door.

thanks for getting me through some tough times and for not laughing at me when i showed up late, late at night at your columbus avenue location wearing no makeup and baggy sweatpants. thanks for also not laughing when i bought 4 cupcakes just for myself and then proceeded to walk my sorry ass home and shove them all down my throat in less than 3 minutes. you were a good friend.

though i'll miss the good times we had together, i will not miss the way you made my stomach twist and turn for hours after eating your cupcakes or the way my teeth ached the second your frosting touched them. i also will not miss your unhealthy ingredients, the dent you made in my wallet, and the junk you added to my trunk. not cool, friend, not cool.

parting is such sweet sorrow,

jess

p.s. ummm, this is a little awkward, but i still need you to make cupcakes for my wedding because kyle isn't entirely on board with this whole vegan thing and wants magnolia cupcakes and not babycakes' chocolate chip cookies and brownie bites. marriage is about compromise, i'm learning.