DIRTY DISHES

There's no photo accompanying this post because it's disgusting.

In my sink there is about three meals worth of dishes. The only thing making me feel okay about this is the fact that we don't eat meat so there's nothing rotting in the there. But still ... yuck. I actually usually like doing dishes ... but something in me last night wanted to stage a silent protest against my stupid no-dishwasher apartment.

So instead, to take my mind off of the fact that I was being horribly lazy I did the following:
- watched the last episode of Glee. Chris Colfer as Kurt is my current favorite thing. I don't love the show the way that I whole heartedly loved Dawson's ... but I do love Kurt. He makes me feel like high school and happiness.
- cuddled in my new $100 blanket. Yes, I bought an 100 dollar blanket. You know, because I'm trying to be all house wifey and make my home cozy ... so it's allowed. BF tried to cover his anger but he was quietly seething about my purchase ... until he got lost under the soft wonderfulness of the fake fur. And until Jazz claimed it as her new favorite place to bury. Apparently anything dog loves is an okay purchase. Cute comes with a price.

Okay, that's really all I did. Now I'm depressed at my lack of ability to get shit done. I have an apartment to pack, dishes to wash and a thousand things to write ... and all I can do is cuddle and hope that this new kid is going to kiss Kurt.

CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS?

Isn't there some weirdo phrase like that? If that's true then maybe I should be an atheist.

Update on GOAL #2: Apartment has been clean for 2 days! I realize the fact that this has an ! after it is pathetic. I have a serious problem putting things away. I don't know why ... I've really thought long and hard about my childhood and what would make me this way. The only thing I can come up with (and believe me, I use this as an excuse all the time) is that I never ever had my own room ... so now that I'm a big bad grownup and have my own place, I will damn well messy it up. And no one will tell me to clean up!

Except that I'm now taking major steps to fix my brain and all its issues ... so this will no longer be an acceptable excuse. Bye, bye traumatic room-sharing memories of my sisters reading my diary and my brothers waking me up with Nerf guns pointed at my head.

GOAL #2

A couple years ago I had too much beer weight on and I downloaded some weird motivational thing to listen to while trying to shed the fun off. Being a fairly middle of the road american female, Oprah had something to do with it.

This is what I remember: Oprah's voice telling me to strip down naked and look at myself in the mirror. "Really look. Take in the fat. Be honest with yourself." (something to that effect) I think the point was that once naked, its all out there - you're fat.

I'm not fat. But I am messy. I am to messy what obese is to fat ... ? I will not be standing naked in front of my mirror today ... mostly because I can't get close enough. Too many clothes on the floor. Instead I will be posting a photo of my coffee table in all its glory.

GOAL #2 - CLEAN UP MY LIFE (in the organizational, clean home way)

FLEAS!!

When we first got Jazz I thought "oh yay! A starter baby!" ... and then I realized she was 4 years old with tons of medical problems. Oh rescue dogs, how cute and problem ridden you are.

Jazz has fleas. Lots and lots of them. When the vet called me with the answer to the itching he said in a super condescending voice "Jazz has lots of fleas ... did you not notice how irritated her skin is?" This voice is why I don't go to the dentist (pretend you didn't read that.) But really, I don't really go to the dentist ... they always make me feel so bad about everything. Like it's my fault my irish ancestors gave me weak enamel. And don't get me started about the eye doctor. They know I can't read the chart! I couldn't read it last year and I can't read it now, have some compassion. So no, I did not notice that her skin was super irritated.

But here I am, defleaing my apartment. I am not happy about this fact ... I am so unhappy that I call up Boyfriend and yell "you have to get back here! I can't be a single mom by my ..." And then I trail off because Chilean miner #2 has just been pulled out of the earth and is bouncing around like he won the lotto. And I'm whining about defleaing an apartment. Ugh.

Okay, okay ... lesson learned. Maybe just shut up and do "wife like" things. Maybe don't complain about things that though totally gross, are totally funny when you look back at them. Right? Looking back at capturing blood sucking bugs that feast on their own feces will be funny in a couple days ... right? Until the next flea infestation ...

(btw how cute is jazz getting a flea bath??)

MAKE ME AN (INDIAN) WIFE

The title of this post is enough to fill a whole blog itself ... but we'll start simple

Little background story: I date an indian male. I am a white female. A great part of my journey to becoming a good girlfriend has been navigating this whole mixed culture thing we call a melting pot.

Present day: we went to an amazing hinjew wedding this weekend - complete with BFs parents dressing me! The results are below and if I do say so myself, I rock a sari better than a cocktail dress. Thankfully, I thought ahead and wore full butt underwear - I would have died about a thousand deaths had I been wearing my sequined "sexy" thong (I think this pair is left over from a birthday when I was single and my friends thought this would help me?) Because you see, to put on a sari you must have a lot of help. A lot of help which starts by standing in ones underwear.

Not sure you can rock a sari? How wrong you are ... check out these non-tradional (read: non indian) sari wearers:

EEEECK I PAID MY $65

FOR COOKING CLASS!

I can write that off, right? Side note: have to get a good and shady tax guy. I say guy because they're more shady then the ladies.

I went with a tapas themed class because 1) I like tapas 2) it comes with sangria 3) it was the soonest class that didn't require cooking meat. I don't eat meat because I read that "Skinny Bitch" book when it was all the rage. Also, I was secretly trying to impress my Hindu boyfriend who then didn't eat meat ... but now does. So I win.

Here's the menu for the class:

• Marinated olives
• Spicy candied nuts
• Pure de garbanzo w/ pita toasts
• Manchego con Membrillo (Spanish cheese with quince paste)
• Tortilla Española & spicy salad
• Camarones Bravas - garlicky saffron shrimp
• Empanadillas Argentinas
• Flan with caramel designs

Alright, you got me. I also chose this class because it seems like a good starter one. How hard can marinating olives be?

(CUT TO: me crying in a vat of olive juice trying to make a dirty martini)

I'm a little excited - it only took starting a blog to make myself shell out $65 to learn how to make garbanzo with pita toast! Photos to come ... unless I burn down their kitchen.

GOAL #1

You know it's bad when ...

You come home to a boyfriend who's had a bad day ... and he's making you dinner. You know it's even worse when instead of helping you're just standing there watching him stir. (really, I'm bad at stirring.)

The crazy person in my head says "but audrey, you went to work. You deserve dinner cooked for you." But then New and Improved Audrey sits on the other shoulder and reminds me "hey loser, the rest of America works. Get over your job." Sigh, I'm going to have to stop using this excuse. On a side note - is it just LA or do other people feel like having a full time job gives them grounds to complain and be lazy?

So here's the deal - I HAVE TO LEARN TO COOK. I mean, how can I go around telling everyone and their mother (or is it just my boyfriend I say it to?) that I want kids on the nowish side of now when I won't even be able to cook them dinner? For the sake of my unborn children, I am going to learn to cook.

GOAL #1: COOKING CLASS. I'm thinking HIPCOOKS so that I can feel hip whilst cooking. And also because perfect fiance from first post recommended them.

BTW - I find the title of this book cruel. But hopefully I will have a post filled with joyous photos after my first class.