Hardest Part of the Journey...is the Journey...?

I've totally got that wrong. But to surmise, things are haaaaard *insert whiny voice here*. (And yes, I used "surmise" correctly. I just googled it.)

I've had some wine so the actual decibel of my whine has gone down. Look at me, ma, I'm self soothing!

My friends have come to play.

Not self-medicating with wine in this photo...just felt it looked appropriate within the context of the narrative. "WINE!"...kinda how I feel about coffee too.

Things have gotten quite tricky on the grad school front. Which is....awesome. Cause this is just going to make me feel like actually being in grad school is a freaking breeze. Ahh, bless.

Funny thing about loans and visa's and grad school. It's all one big gigantic balancing act. Let me lay it down for ya from the beginning.

-Grad school accepted me, hooray! I'm moving back to my homeland...I mean where my heart is....home is where the heart is, so that kind of makes England my homeland..kind of. I don't know...something like that. But YAY!

-No grad school till I can make the first payment of $6,000. I am poor. Hahahaha. But okay. *Gulp wine. Fortify oneself*

-Apply for loan, loan company says "HELLYES, we'd like to help you along your path to debt. Let us give you money. We just need your school to tell us when."

-School accidentally puts down for the money to be released a month into school....basically making it impossible for me to put down my first payment before I start...which technically means, I ain't going.

-School fixes it right quick when I mention that I can't go if I don't get that loan. Ergo, they don't get awesome American dollars.

-Loan money comes in just a little over 1 week ago to the school.

-I need my CAS (confirmation of acceptance to study) paper from the school now that they have the loan money. I need that CAS paper to be able to apply for my visa. My visa that allows me to be in that country to study for a year.

-I am 10 days away from flying to London and I don't have my CAS. I don't have my visa. I don't have anywhere to live because the housing I found a week ago fell through due to unforeseen conditions.

-Additionally, I feel fat.

-And, I can't run due to plantar faciitis. This makes me want to punch people. Especially running bloggers because they're having so much fun...running...and blogging. Shut it, twinkle toes. Nobody wants to hear about your fabulous running adventures. (No wait, I do. I'm not serious. I love hearing about it. I want to weep in envy!)

I just really felt the need to add those last two on, just cause.

Where's my wine?

So yes, grad school...hard. Not even there yet. And it's getting a little rough having everyone keep asking me "are you so excited?" "Are you, like, totally freaking out?" "I mean, this is like your dream. How pumped are you?"

*Throws wine glass to the floor* (Actually that's just for dramatic effect, cause seriously.....I am poor and we don't waste that shit.)

NO. Currently I am not excited, thrilled, or peeing my pants with glee. I wish I was...all those things...except maybe not the pee. I feel slightly overwhelmed by the fact that I have so much to worry about. And I've officially stopped voicing those worries out loud (aren't you lucky to be reading this! Go on, feel pleased) because, as much as I love everyone who says this to me, if I hear one more person say "oh don't worry, it'll all work out" I will PUNCH you in your delicate bits. Stop poo-pooing my stress okay? I know it's going to work out, because I'm bloody well going to make it work out. At this point, there is no way possible that I will be deterred from going over to London for grad school. (*Knock on wood*)

But when people say this in a "hush now little one" *hypothetical pat on head* kind of way, makes my worry, my fears seem childish and insignificant.

And let me tell you, this chocolate and wine habit I am currently cultivating really demonstrates that my emotions are not insignificant. Either join me in drink, or commiserate and tell me your tale of woe. Otherwise...stfu. I say that politely, with non-aggression, and a slight curtsy.

*End Rant*

In good news...my dog has learned a new game. It's called "I'm Mad At You. Hide the Poo."

Essentially, what happened was...my sister and I went away to DC for a long weekend. We did not go to work on Thursday and Friday because of this long weekend road trip, and ergo, Charlie did not get to go to his favorite place ever--CarRideAndThenToWORK. Since we've taken him to the office every day with us (perk of working for our Dad, holler), and he gets treats constantly from all the delivery people, it's like Disney World for him. So we denied him Disney World for two days.

What he does, in retaliation, is poops in my upstairs living room (I live in a kind of in-law apartment attachment of the house. It keeps me and my parents from killing each other.) But he's not like a normal dog, oh no. He's Catholic Guilt Charlie. He does wrong, and feels HORRENDOUS about it. If he could whip himself, he would. So he eats the poop. Like ya do. He eats the poop cause it was his favorite thing to do as a puppy. He eats the poop out of guilt, but at the same time still does it out of retaliation, like a good Catholic. He likes to watch in glee as we run around the small space trying to figure out where the fuck he pooped.

"Poo? What poo? I no poo. If there no poo, there no problem."

So my living room space smells like poop. My Dad tried cleaning up the suspect spots...but we can't be sure. Cause the damn dog ate the evidence.

YAY. WINE.

I want to add on to this whole shenanigan piece that I have not been working out as much as usual, so that makes me a little bit crazy. Apologies. But you can only blame yourself if you've not been entertained by my narrative, cause you've gone on reading it this far. Well done you.

I've resorted to de-stressing through food. I'm telling you right now, watch out for Amanda over at Rhymes & Ribbons . I've been trying out a few of her recipes and they will wash your cares away in a nice creamy vodka sauce. Pasta alla Vodka and I have been making friends...a lot recently.

That eye is supposed to be bigger than the other. Allergies. Not wine. Seriously. 

Most amazing thing ever. I've had it twice in two weeks.

 I also made the best decision ever of trying her Nutella Stuffed Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cookies. Regular cookies will never be enough now.

Recipe has been placed on fridge for easy viewing. When you're feeling low, eat your carbs. God said that.

Better than booze in drowning ones sorrows. Oh and look! I now have more cushion....for sitting. Lovely.

Right. I'm off now to find my dignity somewhere. (Well if you read the last post, Getting Physical: Dominating the Swim Category you'll gather that I don't actually have any...it's there. I swear.)

Cheers, and next time, less complaining...but probably the same amount of wine....

Lindsay xx

Grad School Woes

I should be working on my review of Pride & Prejudice to post for my blogger Jane Austen Book Club. But the words just aren't coming.

I think I need more wine.

The blog post ideas have been coming in fast and then get stopped up like a clogged drain when it comes time for me to actually start writing. I blame grad school. I just can't function as I normally would when I have all these future plans up in the air.

Oh yes, grad school is up in the air. This may, or may not, have been the reason I demolished half a bottle of wine and found myself sobbing over the Keira Knightly Pride & Prejudice last Thursday. Not something I normally find myself doing, but ya know. Stress buster right there. Let's all be grateful I didn't eat my emotions by consuming a Domino's Pizza, then spend the next week complaining about my dairy issues, my face looking like I rubbed it in the pizza and...just ew. (PULL yourself together woman. There is NO need for that kind of behavior.)

This is how I feel right now. I wanna curl up in a blanket and hide. With my wine and my shitty pizza and Jane Austen movies. Oh wait...CHECK. Did it.

Funny thing about going to grad school in the UK. You can't just go on a visitor's visa...even though a visitor can be in the UK for up to six months and technically my first term is only two and a half months. I'll be back in the US in time for Christmas. But you can't go over and study on a visitor's visa (and would people please stop suggesting I "just try it"? How 'bout I try smacking you? That'd be more fun than me breaking the law. So stfu. <----look br="" i="" m="" stress="" swearing=""> Here's the deal. I need a student visa to go over, regardless that the school wants me. In order to apply for said visa I only need TWO things. 1-Proof that I can pay for school. Check. I have a letter from my loan company (bless you Sallie Mae) that they sent over right quick when I asked, that says I have the money. Love that that qualifies instead of having to have the money actually in my bank account. Thank you, UK government. No seriously...that does make things easier.

Number 2-I need a CAS-Confirmation of Acceptance to the school. That's not the email the school sent me saying "OMG we totes love you, come join our hippy ways in drama. Let us show you the way to a life of happiness and thriftiness. You won't even miss food. Too expensive, let's improv our emotions instead." (I wish they said that.) A CAS is not the really nice letter and packet they sent my way a few months ago. Loads of lovely, heart-palpitation inducing, information about my new school. Nope.

The school has it's hands on my super official, special, one-of-a-kind CAS letter. And they won't give it to me until I've given them my first payment. A payment of $5,000.

Okay, no worries. That's what my lovely loan is for and I want to pay with the loan. I don't have the money and while my parents may, I'd rather not ask them as I'll need help with cheaper things...like plane tickets, visa fees and maybe, possibly, some lovely apartment decorations and new school clothes. But really just the plane tickets and visa fees. Cause ya know....savings? What savings? I used to work in theatre, as a dog walker, gym desk attendant and waitress. Also I love wine. So, seriously...what savings?

I checked with my loan company, who's being so unbelievably helpful and understanding that it's a little mind blowing. They explained that my loan disbursement dates (the two dates that were chosen for the loan money to be sent to the school and then to me) were set by the school itself. And oh look...the first disbursement date is for October 15th....so that's only a week and a half AFTER my first day of school.

And you can't enter the country to go to school without a visa damnit. (Stress swearing.... #sorrynotsorry)

I emailed the financial director, who chose those dates. First she asked me to call the loan company because she didn't think that changing the dates (or picking the dates) was something she did (then WHO pray tell?!). So I did and the loan company said that she did and she can and no they won't give me a number/email for financial director lady to contact as she should already have that info....because she accepted the loan and chose the dates.

Emailed financial director again. Response: "Oh okay. I'll change those."

.......

That was over a week ago.

I was going to call her today. And boy will she not like that conversation. I get all "super perky, uber helpful, sunshine-y, customer service-y" when I'm pissed about something. Not many people know how to handle that (think over-caffeinated squirrel) and it's gotten me through a lot of bad customer situations. People will bend to my will because nobody knows what to do with all the freaking sunshine and positivity. However, she's lucky cause today is a bank holiday.

Nobody wants to mess with someone this perky. Because she just might be a murderer. I'll admit to nothing.

Ergo...tomorrow I will be calling and explaining to her why I need that loan money last week, in order to get that CAS emailed to me, in order to apply for my visa which could take as long as eight weeks to get approved for and if I don't get that visa before the start of school, then I can't go to school and then I cancel my loan, and oh no...then the school won't get that money. (Run-on sentence FTW! My undergrad English professors will be so happy that I'm using my degree well...and not continuing on in the field, as I'm quite inadequate to do so.)

I'll say all that way nicer. I think.

Here's hoping I can send in for my visa before the end of the week.

Cheers,
Lindsay xx

P.S. So I have a contingency plan if I end up canceling the grad school plan...I'm going to go on a spa bender. Oh yes. I've gotten a massage three times in my life now, and even on this last trip for just reflexology on my hands and feet, they still want me naked. I feel you. I want to be naked too. Did shit just get weird? Have some wine, you'll get over it.

Obligatory "Oh My God, I'm naked underneath this robe!" shot. You must do it.

Word Vomit and the Uncomfortable Kind of Oversharing

 This is the Christmas Dog of Warnings. He's here in his festive costume to warn you that parental discretion is advised in the reading of this post. You must clearly be bored and not give a damn that I'm about to word vomit all over you.

Christmas Dog has warned you.

 (Me, when I'm not crazy...just a regular 'ol classy gal. And avid Doctor Who fan. But the classiest kind.) 

Now would be a really good time to write something profound and deep. Something you can really learn from and take to heart. I mean, I've recently read some fantastic, well written, beautiful blog posts from other bloggers that has really moved me and made me think.  It was my hope to pass that on.

Buuuut instead of writing something deep and profound...or even, instead of thinking anything deep or profound, wanna know what I'm thinking?

I just demolished some McDonald's fries and the last of my chocolate oranges and I'm not sure if I want to cry because: a. OMG what did I just eat?! b. F*CK, I ate too quickly and nowit'sgoneandIdidn'tgettosavoritandIWANTMORE! or c. should I nap or study my lines....naaaaap or stuuuuudy....why has this always been my problem throughout history?

All this wonderfulness is wrapped up in the loveliness that is PMS...oh no boys, look away or you make catch it!

I'm really good at keeping readership up.

Just wanted to share that to make everyone feel good today. I mean, did you try to lick the salt out of a medium fry box? No. I didn't think so.

When it comes to this time of the month I really need to hibernate or just be continuously drunk. At least then my eating habits would make sense. I have my fingers crossed that menopause is not this hard.

OH WAIT GUYS....just googled "menopause"...cause you know...that's what you do when you're avoiding doing things you should be doing, and that's also what you do when you want to scare yourself. After reading the following article, I have decided that I am, indeed, going through some sort of weird menopausal life. 

Yes...my life is menopause. CLICK HERE FOR ARTICLE ABOUT MY LIFE: AREYOUEXCITEDORSCARED?

Particularly take note of number 8...it's like they looked through the internets and into my soul.  I too have thought about writing some poetry, did already take a walk today (yeah speed walking on a rest day, look at me go), would like to watch back-to-back lifetime movies (or in my case, my PMS prefers something with more aggression...craving a back-to-back viewing of the Dark Knight Trilogy, honestly), and I have considered taking a hot bath and drowning myself in it after consuming ALL THE CHOCOLATE and red wine I can find.

(I'd like to take this moment to give myself a pat on the back for ROCKING my BA in English. Queen of run-on sentences right here folks. No autographs please.)

Now that I've officially left you with all of that to ponder, in addition to why you're reading this post at all....oh that's right I included some fun-ass picture at the top and a catchy title, then posted it all over social media and therefore you just had to click, didn't you? No. No, actually you're my Mom and you feel you have to read it out of solidarity to your offspring, you know I have no other dedicated readership except for family, and 'for God's sake Lindsay stop swearing and talking about drinking!' My Mom, folks. I should get her to do a blog post as she is much more eloquent than I. Then you'd learn something. 

Then again, the blog is called 'Smells Like Sunshine', and let's not kid ourselves...we're not here to learn.

Thanks for letting me word vomit, internets. I promise that I'm not always crazy. I mean...just look at one of my more respectable family members, like my little sister---->

She is not at all gonna be pissed I posted that pic. No but seriously, she's not a crazy bird-lady bank robber....she's sane. Promise.

(The "There's a law suit in your future, sister" look that she gives me when I take her picture "for the blog!") Ahh family love. If I didn't have family, I'd have nobody to annoy constantly.

Xx,

Lindsay

This is a picture of scrapple. It is the love of my life now, I do believe, and I've never had anything quite as good as all the left over pork bits fried up.

P.S. I love that I'm writing posts like this after recently becoming a devote follower to a London lifestyle blog that is much more elegant and fancy than myself. Now I feel like it's being all judgy. Don't know why I'd feel unclassy at all. Nope. No idea.

If it fits, then it goes there.

Getting Into Excercise

You want to know how I got convinced that running might be something I'm in to??

There are races/runs where you can dress up! Yes. You heard me. I can wear a tutu and glitter for the Disney Princess Half Marathon in February which, hand to God, is the predominant reason that I signed up. Oh yes. Come on...you think a theatre nerd like me wouldn't be swayed by costume?

Oh and, like my friend CGriff, I believe if I can train my lumpy ass to manage a half-marathon without dying then I can be done with running. Like, check that bitch off my list, I came, I went, I may have vomited while covered in glitter (hell, I may actually vomit glitter, but a girl can only dream amiright?), but I did the half marathon and now I can be super-awesome-braggy-runner and talk about that time I did a half marathon. Then I'll go back to my yoga corner and get super flexible and strong and in my later years brag to all my runner friends about how I still have use of my knees. Win-win for ME!

Running ain't so bad....once you're done with your run. In my training I haven't quite experienced the runner high just yet. I just experience that "oh my God I may die while doing this" kind of feeling. But much like survivor euphoria (is that a thing? No idea..I'm just making shit up now..), I feel pretty freaking fantastic once  I've recovered and realize that, yes, I still have full use of my lungs and my legs and no vomiting actually occurred. (Hey, I have Crohn's, I think of the possibility of vomiting a lot)

You can tell the endorphin's are working when suddenly, sometime within the 15 minutes post-run, you start thinking..."you know, I could totally pick up kickboxing...and cycling, even though I think my butt would hate me and I hate the outfits...maybe I'll throw a little swimming in for the joints. I am going to be so freaking healthy. Are you scared couch potato? Huh? Are ya? (That's me talking to my inner couch potato. I taunt her a lot. Sometimes she taunts me. Love-hate.) Martial arts next year for sure. Three times a week, yoga three times, running daily with a rest day on Sunday's and then I'll throw some charity work in there. I can DO THIS. Taking on the world. One run at a time."

Oh yes. My endorphin-high version of me is fucking ambitious. And ludicrous  Totally not thinking about the fact that I can only really do yoga twice a week and swimming maybe once a week. For realz.

Also learned...I run faster, harder, longer when I'm listening to rap and imaging myself as the next awesome rapper to come out of lower-middle class suburbia. Hey...I wrote some pretty kick ass, angsty poetry when I was, like, 14. I was struggling through my goth/Buffy phase, so it's deep...real deep....like man-made pond deep. You don't even know. I struggled. My Mom refused to let me shop at Spencer Gifts or Hot Topic for my clothing and no black lipstick or dyed hair allowed. WTF? I could have ruled the goths...too bad I was rejected by them due to excessive perkiness. Why can't goths have a positive attitude?! I don't understand!!!

Rant done. Now go run, lumpy.
xxLindsay

Blerg Kind of Day

You know, I hate Monday's. I just think they suck and not just cause it's the first day back to work after the weekend.

I've had a flare-up for several of the last few Monday's this summer and it's really pissing me off. I am stuck, canceling evening plans, just so I can sit in my room with a heating pad and starve myself better.

Now normally, I'm a "hungry every two hours" kind of girl. No large meal can fill me to last me longer than two hours. This is something I know and accept about myself. And this is now my indicator of how my stomach is faring.

When things aren't going well, I can go hours and hours sans food. Not because I want to, but because my stomach has decided to stop digesting and it is punishing me for whatever offensive thing I ate...kind of acting like a petulant teenager, that bitch.

Offensive food that she hated today: graham crackers with peanut butter.

So frustrating. It's only a little processed food...but noooooo, Sheila threw a tantrum. (Cause I need to name my stomach at this point.  We agree on nothing therefore she is a separate entity than myself. And a cranky one at that. I'm sunshine and daisy's compared to her.)

I did fine with breakfast, quinoa with dry roasted pecans, blueberries and some agave nectar...so healthy and I actually like it. But true to form, not 45 minutes later I was STARVING. Like "I will bite your arm off if you don't give me some bacon" kind of starving. So I went with some healthy, natural, practically paleo snack that I had with me...homegrown roma tomatoes with olive oil, basil and kosher salt. Amazingly delicious, I am loving it, it's going great. I finish it and then BAM...starving yet again. Barely took the edge off.

Coworker suggested it's because I've recently being trying out this whole exercise thing and it drives your hunger way up. I think it's that, and I've had no meat today. Poor choice lady, poor choice.

So I went for something sugary and tasty, not complicated...graham crackers and peanut butter. Boy-o did it satisfy. Delicious! .......

...20 minutes later I knew I was in trouble. Rejected. My stomach started to puff a bit, groan a bit and then just quit on me. No more food...no more hunger, just a sore stomach and I get to appear like I'm preggers.

OH JOY.

Are you jealous yet?

Now I just need to sip on water, eat nothing for the rest of the night, and rest with the heating pad.

At least I have Dr. Who season 6 on DVD to soothe the cranky in me.

C'mere you sexy thing you. He's no David Tennant, but he shall do for now.

Sincerely,

Cranky McGee

Week Recap

Just a few photos to recap my week:

Thursday was the Ides of March and thus "Ides of March-aritas" holiday was created...I love my Shakespearean co-workers. Best idea ever.

Saturday was St Paddy's Day. Ahhh St Patrick's day. One of my favorite holidays...I love all the green, I love that everyone wants to have corned beef and cabbage, and my only compliant are the people that get all hoity-toity about the day saying "no, this really is MY holiday because I really am Irish" to which I respond..."that's so weird, because your Irish accent sounds American. Oh that's right...that's because you are an AMERICAN born in AMERICA..not Ireland." Just keep the day light, ya'll...it's a holiday where everyone is Irish so get over yourself.

On that same note, one of the biggest complaints I always got from my British friends were about how they thought it was so weird that Americans always said "well I'm Irish/Scottish/English" as a way to say that at some point in our genealogical line, some long dead relative was born there...but the British...they don't really do that and find it weird that we do. I chalk it up to the fact that our country was born out of people coming from all over and we want a way of identifying with a country and a culture of people much older than this country we were born in. I'm sure there are many articles out there that put this much more eloquently then I can...

I celebrated the day by starting out with an Irish breakfast..gotta love Irish sausage and some blood pudding. Yum!

There was a glass or two of Guinness later in the day, but then I got to work at a classical music concert and missed the gorgeous day that we were graced with here in DC. On the up side, riding the metro home at midnight was great because everyone had been drinking so much earlier in the day that there was nobody going home that late. It's the little things that make me happy...

And just to end the post on the BEST NOTE EVER.....

Coming soon......

My London vacation starts this week. Two weeks in the country that holds my heart.

So excited.

Cheers!

More Cushion for the Pushin'

Dear Girl Scouts of America,

Thank you ever so much for this extra three pounds that I've managed to put on in THREE DAYS due to your awesome cookies. I'm really enjoying the little extra jiggle when I wiggle and punch-dance out my rage. Oh yes, just as in Hot Rod, "I needed to think about last night. So I galloped into a wooded glen, and after punch-dancing out my rage and suffering an extremely long and painful fall, I realized what has to be done." (Ain't it grand when you can forcefully insert a quote from Andy Samberg into life?)

Also, I would like to call the supposed "accuracy" of doctor's office weight scales into question. I call foul play! I feel at least ten pounds lighter than what it reads. And no, it does not make me feel better to get the reading in kilograms...now you're just making me do math to get the bad news and that is just not nice. These fingers are made to be transportation from plate to mouth...not for embarrassing oneself after using them to count.

In conclusion, dear GSOA, my awesome, amazing, sure-fire way to keep those cookies healthy and not cause weight gain did not work.

I blame you. STOP TEMPTING ME. And now I shall go divide up my 12 boxes into small portions to be doled out after reaching daily fitness goals. 18 pounds will be lost by the end of April...when I have my next appointment. And that is what I want the goddamn doctor's office scale to read. So there.

Love,

Embittered Cookie Eater

DC Earthquake Aftermath

Just a video to show I'm okay! My apartment....not so much....f* you DC Earthquake!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmPEy03YChI

A Topic on Which I Feel Strongly...

Was recently searching around the blog world looking for supportive and interesting ones on Crohn's Disease since A. I have it, B. I need support but not medical information, and C. I love blogs on specific topics. I did find one I really liked especially when she took a post to rant, not about Crohn's, but about something separately on a topic I feel quite strongly about and she does it with a bit of humor. You can check it out over here.

My favorite part, "If I don't pay a prostitute is it rape or shoplifting? If I hit you in the face with a shovel for telling this 'joke' is it assault or a public service?"

I think I'm going to like reading her stuff.

Ta!

Lindsay

World Cup And Life Just Stops

So summer has finally arrived, my theatre work has just finished up leaving me with just ONE job...a little different for me, and I've got all this beautiful time on my hands to get around to doing the important stuff.

Aaaand here's how my summer has been playing out so far:

To Do-

-Find a summer job to add to income so I can eat more than beans and rice and occasionally be able to have a beer with friends (instead: watching World Cup)

-Lose weight by drinking less, eating healthier and exercising (instead: watching World Cup, while drinking, eating crap and only leaving the couch to cheer or get more things to add to my caloric intake)

-Work on monologues, plan out headshots, and just in general getting my acting muscle stretched and ready for action in the fall (instead: watching World Cup, using acting training to pretend to be interested in life.)

-Plan out my summer trips to Charleston for Maid of Honor duties, New York City to visit theatre peeps and check out theatre scene there, and Ohio to visit college friends, one of whom will be coming back from Japan after 3 years...(instead: watching World Cup, which is free and as I haven't found another job...well, there's no planning on spending money just yet)

-Read more (instead: watching World Cup)

-Clean (instead: watching World Cup)

-Call old friends (instead: watching World Cup)

-Occasionally write something on this here blog (instead: watching World Cup WHILE blogging about World Cup--so, semi-fail?)

-Participating in life....nope, just checking the World Cup scores on my fancy new phone.

I think you get the idea.

I've never really been much of a sports person because I suck at playing them and because I can get ridiculously competitive (hey, I am a Leo). But soccer is just so much fun to watch.

As for who I'm rooting for, because I know you care: 1. England (have you seen the purpose statement behind this blog? England is where my heart lives.) 2. Brasil (spelled correctly in honor of one of my bestest friends, who is Brazilian and who I will be performing Maid of Honor duties for. Also, Brasil has mad skills, you can't watch them and NOT see the intensity and creativity that goes into their games...though that first game against Korea was sooooooo entertaining. Korea needed like half the team just to defend their goal against one guy. Awesome.) 3. USA....I guess I should root for the motherland. But only cause I like Donovan and half the players on the team play for English teams normally. But dude, they need to step up their game. I don't want to get into it and continue to bore you to death.

Instead...some pictures from when I watched the England vs. USA game at home in Rochester with the family this past weekend:

Me, pre-match, excited about life, English soccer, Strongbow, and the fact that my Dad does not watch soccer and instead prefers to work on my computer problems (Thanks Dad!)

In honor of supporting England, I'm eating their favorite food...Chicken Tikka Masala, Naan bread...and topping it off with Strongbow.

Post-game. A TIE?? Are you F-ING KIDDING ME?

At this point, I just lay there mumbling into the ground about sending a hit man out for Green and how that shot was a shit shot and I could have blocked it better. But I guess Howard was pretty decent. I'll give my mother that (she was rooting for "the underdog"--her words, not mine, America.)

So to end this post...I'm sorry blog world. I'm currently sucking at life and as this blog is about life...or my life really...it's kinda sucking. I would promise to get better...but I can't do that till July 11. I'm sure I'll blog more before than, but no guarantee it'll be about anything other than footy.

Best,

Lindsay

Pure Evil.

Dear Haagen-Dazs,

Just stop it with the insane deliciousness. You are pure evil my friend, reeling me in with only five ingredients (all of which I recognize), making me feel good about not consuming weird, factory-made ingredients I can't pronounce. But your 3 servings per pint, with 22 grams of sugar per serving is what has me hooked. And my body does not thank you.

The end.

Of my waistline.

xx

Open Letter To The Male Population Of The World

Dear entire male population of the world,

Be bold. I mean more bold than you are. I am very irritated with you all right now. Well, almost all of you. Mainly just the ones that have crushes on me but don't make it very obvious at all and won't make the first move, which just leaves me guessing as to your true intentions and whether or not you actually do like me. You like to send signals like you might like me, but sometimes signals get crossed...or I'm just a bit on the clueless side and not very good at picking up signals. (Is the free coffee a signal???)

Just so you know: I will not make the first move. I will not ask for your number. I am not bold. Especially when it comes to you, cute guys that I like. You make me nervous. I may be bold in all other aspects of my life. I can get on stage in my underwear in front of hundreds of paying theatre patrons and act all crazy and still respect myself in the morning (no, I'm not a stripper, I'm an actress. Yes, there is a difference.)

The little bits of conversation I can produce for you is as good as it's going to get for you and me. You need to step up and take initiative. Yes, I am all about Feminism and having equal rights, but that doesn't do anything for my shyness. So, damnit, step up. Be bold.

Otherwise...I really should just join the nunnery. It might just be easier.

Love,

Single In D.C. (Which sucks and produces awful posts like this one )

(Only posting this cause I'm sure it'll make my friend, Jen laugh....yeah for my awkwardness.)

"Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently." -Henry Ford

In other words, I got schooled, son.

Let me just preface this blog with I had an awesome time NYC and this weekend was just a big ol' ball of fabulousness. Best idea ever to stay with my friend Jen (Hi Jen!).

That being said, I certainly got an education.

The audition actually went very well and I'm so proud of my monologue work. I loved all the people that came out to audition for Central. They were my kinda people. As in the kind of people that are all "I freaking love everything to do with theatre and I just want to learn". And here I was all afraid I was going to run into the stuck-up kinda theatre people, who treat it like a special club that you're not invited to join. Completely not the case.

As a result of attending this audition, learning what goes on during a Master's course in acting, doing a pre-audition warm up with everyone, and meeting some innately awesome people, I've come to the conclusion that further education is the exact path I want to be on when it comes to acting.

As a result of actually doing the audition, which was my two monologues and a brief interview, I've learned that the Central School of Speech and Drama's MA in Classical Acting course is not for me. Or I'm not for it. I'm not really sure which. But I do appreciate the brutal honesty that was exacted on my person by, as he shall now be referred to as, a Dear, Mr. Martin.

He was blunt and straight to the point as I was informed, I "do not have the educational background it takes to perform in the master's program at this school". I did, actually, already know that but was hoping that a master's program would take me regardless of my lack of education and based on my work history in theatre. Dear, Mr. Martin did explain to me that he thought I should try for, if not going for another BA, an MFA which would be two years instead of one and would provide me with more "studio time" (aka-acting classes).

I found this whole experience to be.....kind of fantastic. I did go into all of this not fully aware if I qualified for this kind of program and Dear, Mr. Martin gave me a wealth of knowledge that I will be taking home with me this week to digest and research. I think he was correct in saying that I'm not right for this particular program...but I do think I'm going to email the other schools I'm interested in and find out if they feel the same after looking at my theatre resume.

I would still love to do a master's degree course. But I shall surely be looking into some MFA programs in England as well now.

(Can I just say that the 14-year old me, a hard-core drama queen pessimist, is slightly gagging at the positivity of it all. But what can I say? Over a year ago I was sitting behind a desk as a receptionist, working part time in retail, doing nothing that involved theatre or acting and I felt like my soul was dying. Now I'm actually taking action to figure out how to go through with further education. The twenty-something me is jumping up and down with excitement because I've got a freakin' purpose. Take that and chew on it, internal angsty-teen.)

And even though I do not see this as a failure at all...I'll leave ya'll with these two quotes by one Dear Mr. Beckett:

"To be an artist is to fail, as no other dare to fail...."

"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."

State of Things

(Taken by me while at the D.C. Zoo)

Here's a video of an Orangutan hiding under his blankey...add a bottle of red wine by his side and you'll come to some comprehension of the state of things for me exactly 3 days away from my very first graduate school audition.

My monologues, I'd like to say, are going well. But I'm not going to really say that...because actually they aren't currently going at all, I mean as well as I'd like them to move. They're more in a halting state. This is very frustrating because I am totally in love with my monologues.

One of them is particularly difficult for me because I've never played any kind of character like her...which is why I picked it...and I've got the words down, but I can't quite make the emotions rise up to the surface and show through. The other monologue is so perfectly suited to my personality and I'm very comfortable wearing this character's very refined shoes...but the words won't straighten themselves out. I know them. Oh, how I know them. But it's like a slow train moving up a hill, halting every couple of feet and jerking everyone around that's on board. I'll get halfway through it and then...bam!...blank.

Now just so you understand a bit about me...this is completely how I work. It's sporadic and not at all professional. But when I'm in a show, even as close as a week away from opening, I'm still glancing at the script and halting a bit. It's like I can't fully operate smoothly until I'm actually in the deep end. You can't see how well I swim if I'm only miming it to you, just throw me in already.

Crazy right? (And THIS is why I really should go to grad school...get trained up a bit, mmm?)

I do think I'll perform quite alright. It's just....I'm getting on my own nerves.

And I just ate a humongous chicken fajita bowl from Chipotle, with an extra scoop of rice, and now I'm going to have a burrito baby. Seriously, stick me with string and float me in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. I need to break up with Chipotle soon. It's an abusive relationship and I just keep coming back for more. Which makes me cranky.

So...note to self....no Chipotle on Saturday, as it is the day before my audition. In fact...maybe I'll just stick with cupcakes and coffee....cause I'm sure that'll go well.

Okay, note to Jen, whom I will be staying with in NYC this weekend (yeah!!): do not let me eat too many carbs or horrible things that make me feel bloated.

Excellent. Back to hiding under my blankey. See ya'll when I'm sane...which will be sometime after 1pm on Sunday.

xx

D.C. Parking Enforcement Is Out To Get Me.

The picture you see above it one taken from the public cork board for my building, found down in the lobby by the mailboxes.

The D.C. Parking Enforcement, and specifically Officer Fisher, is out to get me.

I flat out refuse to change my license or my plates. I am a New Yorker damnit and I shall return to the motherland someday. If I don't get into grad school I want to move my ass over to NYC to try my hand there for awhile. I'm a nomad and changing my plates is not part of the nomad way. It costs money, money that is better used for say, oh i don't know, bills! And it says to people "hiya! yes I am staying here for awhile and so is my car." That's really not what I want to say...neither does my car. Betsy is a full on New Yorker herself and would like to stay that way, thankyouverymuch. (Yes I name my car, get over it.)

I think possibly someone in my building may have posted this sign in response to both myself and my roommate, who is sticking to his Washington State license plates as well, and as we're the only ones within a 3 block radius with out-of-state plates, who else would they be directing this to? Though my brother did mention that it could be something someone printed out numerous copies of and posted all around...but I say, highly unlikely Sir! Much easier to believe they're out to get me!

Officer Fisher has been so kind as to post onto my windshield a total of three parking tickets and the last two within the span of a week. And I even use my car for work now, so it's only ever parked there three hours in the morning. Which, of course, is an hour longer than permitted in the zoned parking area, but give me a break!

I've decided to try and outsmart them by parking on the street that runs directly into my street, where there is no zoned parking. It is, however, the exact line that crosses my hood from semi-safe in the daylight to ohmygod-i'm-going-to-be-mugged-at-10a.m.-in-broad-daylight, when you cross that line. So a bit of a gamble. A little Russian roulette never hurt anyone, right?

This morning when I went online to pay one of the parking tickets I was surprised to find that I also happened to have been caught speeding on New York Avenue last week by the annoying cameras and wire trips implanted into the road, and have been issued a $100 speeding ticket in addition to my two $30 parking tickets. Yeah D.C.! The douche bag award is officially yours. You've earned it! Welcome to our nation's capitol, where out-of-state cars are not really tolerated or, what the hell, even allowed, period. And forget about speeding on empty streets...it doesn't matter that you were in a life or death situation that requires you to speed more the 15mph above the speed limit (hey, trying to make it home from a friend's house late at night without falling asleep at the wheel totally qualifies, end of story).

Anyways. Just thought I'd share. Now I'm going to totally make this into a whole, march-on-the-mall-with-picket-signs, kinda issue. What can I say, I'm an activist at heart.

NY-er fo' life.

Word to yo' mama.

L-Dub, queen of the hyphen.

Why I love Blogs.

Dear Blog World,

This is my letter to you. I love the blog world. The instant replay of your life written out as quickly and as best you can. I feel connected to people who are not famous but are just normal people whom I love because I can relate to their words. Beautiful words. Describing love of theatre, books, acting, random daily events. These little things connect us. You may not notice it when you blog, but you are connecting with a whole other world out there. We may not comment on your blog, but we are here, admiring, laughing, nodding our heads in agreement with your post. Sometimes we reach out, sometimes we comment. We feel the need to connect and that is the beauty of the blogger world. Connection with people that you might not have meet up with in daily life. Learning new things about foreign places, or learning that you are not alone in your beliefs. Blogging is a new social frontier that I think brings us together and lets us expand our horizons in ways we can't experience in real time in our daily lives. This is all I have to say on this topic...some of my favorite blogs are thinking of ending and it makes me sad. Blogging doesn't need to be about venting alone. It can be about sharing of an experience, connecting with others. I hope that bloggers can take advantage of the opportunity to learn new ways to communicate, express their creativity, and take a moment to express how they feel about a certain subject.

Freedom of speech. It's a beautiful thing. Take advantage while you have the audience.

xoxo, LDD

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Email: LindsayDinsyDay (at symbol) gmail.com

Temping: Oh the Horror!

I think people in line at Whole Foods could tell what kind of day I had at the office when I slammed on the conveyor belt my bottle of red wine (Folie a Deux's Menage a Trois, YUM!), a baguette and a bar of expensive dark chocolate.

No wonder office work can make people gain weight. They stress eat just because of the mundane bullshit one has to put up with.

Although I must say, in a new development, as a result of my current temping job I can now say that I actually kinda like old people! This is new for me, let's get excited!

Example as to why: Me-Hello sir, you called and left a message saying you were having problems with your password? Old Man-Yes, I'm old, 67 in fact and computers are beyond my time. Me-Okay, I can help. Proceed to seem like an absolute computer whiz-kid as I explain the 'Forgot Your Password' button and it's function. Old Man- Why thank you so much, young lady! Now I don't be mean to be vulgar but....really sir? I totally heart the vulgarity from unexpected sources, bring it!!....there's going to come a day when if you want to screw your wife you'll have to enter a password.

Now, as an unusual turn of events even for my long customer servicing history, it was the old people that rocked and the younger people that really, really, totally sucked. Especially the impatient, rude, condescending secretaries/personal assistants who just wanted me to get the username and password for their bosses because the bosses were way too busy and important to get it themselves and couldn't figure out how to log into the damn system. Unfortunately for them that's so totally against policy and boy-oh-boy do I luuuuuuuuvre throwing the Strictly Policy Clause at rude people. Take that! Pow! It's beyond my control! Boom! You are not nice! Pow! Boom! Bam!

I'm practically a ninja, but with manners...

Celebrities on Stage

Just read from Actress in the City's blog that Lily Allen is taking a stab at theatre. Now, normally, I think it's kind of great from an audiences prospective to be able to watch a celebrity on the stage. It's always fun to see if they'll surprise you with amazing talent or just end up another gossip rag favorite trying to gain street cred by taking over spots on stage that should have been given to more well deserved players.

In this particular case, and after reading up which play it is she's doing on The Guardian's website I'm a bit devastated actually. Neil LaBute's play Reasons To Be Pretty is one of my favorites and, coincidentally, where I was going to get one of my grad school audition monologues from.

Now I'm not sure that's such a good idea.

I'd love to hear from other actors/people in the arts industry about what their thoughts are on Ms. Allen taking to paid theatrics. Also, should I be doing a monologue for my very important grad school auditions from a play that is currently splashed all over the news? (If not, does anyone have any helpful suggestions of monologues I should do? Now is the time to comment, people...)

Yes, folks...instead of freaking out over where I can get a paycheck, I'm pulling my hair out over Lily Allen and monologues. Hello, priorities.

Where's some large quantities of baked goods when ya need it??

xxLindsay

Quarter-life...and GO!

Well here we are then. Right now, as I begin this post, it's about five minutes before I turn 25. I'm sitting here drinking a glass of Black Swan Shiraz Cabernet, wishing I could be hiding under my duvet for the duration of my birthday, maybe have a bit of a cry, watch Bridget Jones (which always cheers me up), possibly have a curry and pass out long before I think too much about what it means to be another year older.

It's not that I'm one of those people that think I'm so old at 25. Oh in front of others I like to whinge on about it, like I'm an old lady, for a laugh, but deep down I know I'm still young. What I'm quite upset about is that I don't feel I've accomplished much and I feel 25 is an age where I should have something about my life figured out. At least I should be moved out of my parents house by now well in my defense I'll be moved out on Saturday and off to adventures of poverty in D.C. (And for the record, living with my parents has been divine. They're 2 of my closest friends actually. They look after me and ignore me when I'm on a dramatic tailspin. They built me a very nice room in my own little apartment attached to our house. And it would all be very nice and perfect if only I could move this house and my entire family with me to a big city. Heaven right there.)

Another upset...I'm about to launch myself off into a huge city with no money, no savings and the scariest part....I have absolutely no idea about the theatre in D.C. Is it good? Easily accessible to people who want to be involved but need to have a 9-5 job in order to pay the bills? I haven't a clue. I, for once, have no connections and haven't heard anything about how the theatre community operates down there. Terrifying I tell you.

For the month of August I'll also have no immediate access to cable or the Internet. I've already decided to suss out a nice coffee shop with Internet just so I can blog...oh and search for a job. Yeah I'll be needing that to support my expensive wine habit. Now that I'm 25 I shall feel free to graduate to slightly more sophisticated brands than my usual two-buck-chuck red wine. Hello Rosemount!....wait...can I afford that?...ummmm, no, definitely not. I'll just stick with Yellowtail, Little Black Dress and Black Swan. Yeah me. I can feel the excitement of adulthood now.

Things that I feel need to be worked on in my 25th year:

1. GRAD SCHOOl for acting. I miss school terribly. There is nothing I love more than sitting with people who are possessed with the same passion and discussing the intricacies of the art form. Beautiful. And it needs to be in England. I miss it terribly and every time I visit, I feel just a bit more sad because I know that I'll never love a city more than I love London or feel as comfortable in any foreign country as much as I do mingling with the British. Does that make sense? No?....blame the wine...

2. French. I took 7 years of it. Can I speak a lick of it? Not really...well I am able to mumble a bit. I can read it a bit better than speaking it. I do feel like quite an idiot not knowing another language. And French has always been the one I've loved. I can watch French films for hours just listening to them speak.

3. Physical activity. I want to be one of those people that just loves exercise, honest I do. But since middle school, and the evil gym teachers that came with it, I've always had a mental block against most physical activity. Whenever I run I always expect someone to pop out at me and yell "faster, faster! there's no walking in gym!" I want to be a master at yoga and know a little bit of martial arts (since I was about 14 I've been a bit obsessed with both...blame it on my Buffy the Vampire Slayer obsession. Buffy did martial arts, Sarah did yoga.)

4. Jesus...this really could go on...let's just end this with boys. I'd like to have a relationship with a guy that's lasted longer than the one I have with my gay best friend. He's lovely but it is sad when you've been engaged to him on Facebook because you really don't want to display your relationship status. Ah well...

Yeah 25! And I've had one friend already text me well wishes...and my sister came running into my room, frightening me, in order to say Happy Birthday at midnight. Quite a nice start I'd say.

xxLindsay

p.s. AND I got my first birthday gift from one of my brothers this weekend, the first two seasons of "The IT Crowd", which I ADORE. (I'd like to be friends with Moss, please and thank you.)

Rant to Myself

Who gets up at 6:30 in the morning in order to get shit done, downs several cups of coffee, then takes an allergy pill because she pet the cats knowing full well they make her itchy all over and finally passes out at 10:30 AM (!) for 2 hours due to the odd combination of caffeine and an allergy pill?? Oh, that idiot would be me.

I think my body is rebelling against me moving. I need to pack stuff up today to bring it to D.C. tomorrow for Part 1 of the move.

Unfortunately for me, "Fanboys" just arrived from Netflix, it's lunch time, and now that I've awoken from my unusually drugged nap I feel a little drunk from it. Packing will not happen just this moment. Give me 3 hours and a severe guilt trip and then I'll be ready to go.

Rant done.