Choices Too Hard To Make

My heart is torn is two totally opposite directions. And it hurts. The pain I feel is like other. How could I have put myself in this situation...

Do I watch The Black Donnellys or The Hills on Monday nights at ten? ARG. The agony.

A New Arrival!

This is my first post from my BRAND NEW MACBOOK! Woohoo! I love love love it....and loved the price. Being a student sometimes has it perks. Pictures of my new little joy will soon arrive!

No Longer All By Myself

The world is suddenly back on its axis. Celine Dion has returned. And in a big way. What better way to come out of hiding out at Caesar's Palace than looking more beautiful than ever singing at the Academy Awards?

Who cares about the winners and the rest of the show (Although the body contortionist people are awesome!)? My heart can now truly go on!

Rock My World

I'm usually not a big fan of awards shows, but at the end of my rope with all my normal procrastination measures last night, I decided to tune into the Grammy's.

All I can say is WOW! I developed a girl crush on Carrie Underwood who sang just about the most fascinating version of Desperado. And the sexy collaboration between her and Rascal Flatts almost made me MELT. And I gained a whole new persepctive on Mary J. Blige. Man that woman can sing. Though the red pants suit disturbed me a bit.

The only major complaint I have is omigosh why did Many Moore look like a giant? She was seriously massive on the screen. I understand that next to Leanne Rimes she might look a little big, but she looked like the Jolly Green Giant. And in a very bad dress. Mandy, I love you. Please do not do this to me.

On a side note the New Englanders have brain washed me. Yesterday I stepped outside and thought wow...it sure is warm today. Displayed on the Killian's sign that I passed on my way into the city, I realized it was 32 degrees. I think 32 degrees is warm. The gods must be crazy.

The Kristoff Kiss Off

He hasn't written back yet. I've resolved myself to checking my email every ten minutes, rather than every five. I think he might be in Nepal. Bad internet connection? Maybe he lost his laptop. Maybe he is feeding hungry children and doesn't have the time now to respond-though he really wants to. Maybe he is walking around trying to create the perfect response to his biggest fan.

Maybe I need to get a life. Or a new subject to email. Anderson Cooper, watch your inbox. Your my new journalistic source (and love). And people say I'm fickle.

Bold and Beautiful

I can't even send my food back if I get the wrong entree. But I just finished emailing Nick Kristoff asking for an interview. Holy Crap. Boston has made me bold. For those you are keeping track, if he agrees to speak with me, I will have interviewed TWO of my top idols (Anita Diamant being the first). That alone is worth my $50,000 a year tuition.

H-E-Lots of Hockey Sticks

I would like to preface this blog with a quick statement. Screw Al Gore. And his Inconvenient Truth. You know what's inconvenient for me? When I have to ride the T with people who smell like vomit, are vomiting, or girls that shove me out of the way to ride one block causing me motion sickness and the need to vomit.

Where does this anger stem from? I went to a BU Hockey Game on Friday night. And since there is no parking at the arena, I parked behind my beloved store and took the T down to the arena. Big mistake. Looking back on it, I should have risked the hypothermia and loss of my toes but instead I got on the T of Terror. Next time I must use public transportation I am bringing a bottle of perfume. That way I can spray anyone who happens to be sending a stench my way as well as squirt some in the eyes of the girls who think they have the right to stand where I am. Your Prada bag is not a license to be rude. Plus mine is so much cuter.

So onto what really matters: hockey. Love the game. Hot guys smashing each other into walls. Its pretty amazing. And when they screw up they go to time out. Now here is a sport where inventors really went right. To reach men, you MUST meet them at their level. In my experiences, men happen to be nothing more than three year olds in bigger, hairier bodies with bottles of beer instead of bottles of milk. So shouldn't punishments for men model those of a three year olds? When little Johnny pushes his baby sister he goes to the corner. When big Johnny pushes big hot opponent, he goes to the corner. Reinforcement of the rules goes a long way. I bet some child psychologist thought of hockey sometime after figuring out how to make a dog salivate.

Final sentence: BU tied. But oh the possibilities of mankind winning if we all took a lesson from those inventors of the penalty box.

A Time of Acceptance

Today I have come to terms with the fact that I am now living in an environment that requires me to wake up fifteen minutes earlier. For most, this would be an easy, almost mundane task. For me, it is agony.

Still, while it will be almost impossible to drag my warm body out of the comfort of my ever so perfect bed to face the four degree weather (YES that is four...as in the number after three and WAY below the 70 it should be) I have found it even more impossible to risk what could happen if I hit that snooze button one more time.

My roomie was in an accident today (She's fine-not even scratch). Car skid on ice. Flipped over. And while I can't control ice patches on the road, I can control my otherwise non-defensive driving tactics of drinking my coffee, eating my Pop Tart, and putting on mascara, all while changing songs on my Ipod and swearing at the clock that I continually check because I am running late again. Did I mention I accomplish this while driving? In Boston no less, the city where the Frommer's Guide instructs you that it is better to risk death as a pedestrian crossing Comm Ave than face driving in the city that apparently has amnesty from road regulations.

So for me, it is lesson learned. And not the hard way. My mom was wrong...I don't always have to touch the stove to make sure it really is hot. I just have to be near enough to feel the heat and experience the fear.

A Whole Lot To Offer

Scene one: My mom and I are venturing out on our first day in Boston. I've lived in the city for about five hours now and come to a spot in the road where there is a cop directing traffic. Is there an accident? No. Is there congestion? No. We look around. What could the cop be out in the street directing traffic for?The Whole Foods Market. Apparently the shopper's need to use taxpayers dollars to have a police officer sit outside Whole Foods 12 hours a day to ensure that their organic tofu doesn't have to wait an extra 45 seconds in the car because they had to yield to the fellow BMW's that grace Newtonville. The agony. I swear off Whole Foods.

Scene Two: I have to pee. We're past the pee pee dance. I'm seconds away from making yellow snow in Boston. Kim and I run to Whole Foods in Brookline. And can't find the freaking bathroom. It's not in all the usual predictable bathroom places. I'm in tears. We wait IN LINE to ask someone where the bathroom is. It's in a sketchy corner behind the seafood counter. Which smells. Like rotting meat. I almost vomit as I learn that while I may not have self control when it comes to The Gap, my bladder has amazing restraint. I swear off Whole Foods once more.

Scene Three: I'm driving home tonight not wanting to cook, but wanting to have a hot body for Spring Break. The only quick takeout near me is pizza since the Northeast still has no concept of drive-thrus. I spot the Whole Foods. I think about the possibility of a deli section with healthy alternatives to grease with a side of pepperoni. I turn in. And embrace the vegans. I had the best meal under nine dollars. Two slices of roasted herb turkey, a mountain of a helping of homemade mashed potatoes, a black cherry natural soda, and the topper: a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin for tomorrow morning. After two swearing off sessions, Whole Foods has won my heart. I guess the third time really is the charm.

Cinnamon Dolce is My Gabanna

Starbucks has a new frothy sweet concoction that brings a smile to my very chapped lips (cold Boston wind). Cinnamon Dolce Latte is God blessing the mere mortals with a taste of heaven. Against all of my issues with fair trade and the financial enslavement of people who are forced daily to pick coffee beans for pennies that a huge corporation makes a three thousand percent profit off of when they sell each VENTI cup of warmness ( why can't they use English?)...breath...I recommend ordering yourself a cup. Ask for a medium. It irks them. And extra Cinnamon Dolce sprinkles. It's all in the sprinkles.

Jingle Bells People Smell

Semester one of my glorious graduate school education is complete. Phase two of my life in December includes serving as Satan in the pit of hell that is Barnes and Noble retail. Don't get me wrong I love my job. I just HATE ( and it is hate...not I really really really don't like) dealing with horrible people who completely defy the christmas spirit that I try my darndest to uphold. The sanctity of good tidings and good will is abolished by their whining, complaining, harrassing, molesting, and otherwise horrendous behavior. They are sooo on Santa's naughty list.

Speaking of naughty-I cut my hair. Ok that's not the naughty part. The part that brings coal to my stocking is that I got it cut on Newbury Street-only the poshest place in the whole city. But I've also got a juicy little secret. It was only forty dollars- a steal compared to the normal 200 dollars. I so got the look for less.

In the world of Toni where electronics NEVER work and are always annoying me to the bitter point of smashing them against my wall I FINALLY got my bluetooth and ipod to work. Now if I could get my alarm clock to fuction where it poured me a cup of coffee in the morning we would be set.

Enjoy the pick of the hair-by the way-its done only with a blowdryer.

Bye Bye Bye

I have been on news overload the past few days. It's like Christmas and the Worst Day In The World combined together which makes me have periodic mood swings and personality transformations.

News One: K-Fed and Britt call it quits. Ok we all saw it coming, but deep down I really wanted her to be happy. It seems like Justin got the better deal out of the breakup.

News Two: Ryan and Reese are finito. WTF? Ok NOONE saw this coming. They're the most beautiful people in the world. With the most beautiful children. How is the Earth still on its axis?

News

BRRRRR

My fingers are almost too cold to type this out. It's cold. Really cold. Ok, maybe not as cold as it could be but I am freezing. It's cold enough that the Canadian Geese are now fleeing from the middle of my lane and are huddled together in the grass nearby. Canadian Geese are cold. And they are from freaking ice town. What was I thinking coming here?

I had steak last night. And a loaded baked potato. My life was complete. Until I realized that I now have a constant desire for loaded baked potatoes. The angst.

OH!!! I got my hair cut today. In a salon where there was a dressing room and I went in there to put on a ROBE and then walked upstairs. How cool is that? My hair is still below my shoulders but looks much more healthy.

Ok, must go stick my hands in the oven.

Gucci Homeless

Homeless people in Boston are very well dressed. Compared to the homeless people I encountered outside Toys-R-Us in Chico, Bostonian transients are the Kennedy's. Seriously. They look just like me and you, just with signs and jimgling money cups. Even their signs are better. Everything is spelled right and instead of being on rain saturated cardboard, they are on real posterboard. The kind elementary school kids do their projects on. It confuses me. And takes away my normal tendency to give them money. If they can afford to look that good, why should I spare my change? I'd rather send it back to the ratty looking homeless in Cali.

On another random Boston note, there are Canadian geese in the street that I take to get home. Which is more like a highway than a street. It's a major street. And there's geese on it who aren't even from this country. So I have to slow to like twenty while they waddle in front of me and mock me because they know I am already five minutes late. Damn Canooks.

I rode the T three times this past week. Actually four. I forgot about last night. It renewed my faith in the need for deodorant. And manners.

I drank way to much last night. Which in Toni Terms is two drinks. But we went to this great bar that has dueling piano players who play all kinds of songs on the piano. It was amazing. A must see. I loved it so much I stayed in bed till 3:30 pm dreaming about it. Or sleeping off a hangover, depending on your perspective.

Leaves of Change

Driving down the road today I saw yellow leaves....and that's not their usual color. Which could mean one of two things-either someone went with a highlighter and attacked them in the middle of the night or Fall is coming!!!! Minus the fact that I will certainly acquire frostbite this year I am excited for the fall and winter here. I can't wait to not worry about my hair because it will be under a cute beanie with a matching cute scarf. P.S. Please send me cute beanies with matching scarves.

Classes are exciting. Not really. But I am excited to be doing something that I love so much. I met with a professor the other day about this awesome program that I wanna do. It made me jazzed to be a journalist. How's that alliteration? I'm a jazzy journalist. Hehe.

The Broncos won in overtime. Rock on Plummer. Now go get a haricut.

The Wheels On The Bus

I survived my first two days of grad school. That sentence pretty much sums up my life. Classes seem like they will be interesting-maybe a little rudimentary but fun. After all, this is supposed to be what I'm doing with the rest of my life.

I came to the realization yesterday that I am going to a real school. Like one where everyone did their undergrad at Cornell, USC, Georgetown, and the like. I come from Chico State. Woot Woot. Home of the frat boy killers and amateur porn stars.

Dar and I spent three hours today looking for folders. We came up empty handed and overwhelmed by the amount of crazy soccer moms buying school supplies for their spoiled rotten children.

I have to go read the news now-and not about Suri's debut in Vanity Fair. Gosh-the pains of being an adult.

Parking Lot Whore

So it's been awhile. But life has taken a toll on my ability to sit and function enough to write a coherent thought.

Barnes and Noble has been fun. I got promoted. Yes, since starting two weeks ago I have now moved up to the position of supervisor. You got me. Apparently I know my dorm supplies.

I am in love with Uno's. And half price appetizers. Muchos Nachos make Toni Mucho Happy.

I flirted my way into a parking lot today. So much so that they let me park there without a permit AND without paying.

In summary life is good. I got a three dollar raise within two weeks of living here and have saved money by making nice with parking attendents. And people think Bostonians are rude. Pashaw.

Fenway Footsteps

Today was my landmark adventure of braving the Boston monster. Not the green one. The silver one. The T. I found my way to the Newtonville stop-probably the dodgiest square foot of my town. Five minutes after the train was supposed to be there ( punctuality is obviously not important in this town) I climbed on and had my ticket punched by the cute little guy in the top hat just like on The Polar Express. For eight minutes I tried to figure out which way was Northeast. Who gives directions with actual directions? Do they really expect me to carry around a compass? Geez. When the train stopped I realized that I had arrived footsteps from Fenway Park. Literally. I could touch it if the policeman guarding the park didn't look like he would tazer me. Who would have known that I work just around the block from the home of the Red Sox?

Thankfully I made some friends with connections at work today. By connections I mean a car. Bottom line-I got a ride home and didn't have to try to make it to my house in the dark on a creepy train.

Now I'm watching Dr. Phil realizing that husbands are stupid. Not that I would know but these guys are awful. Who tells their wife they're ugly? What is wrong with this world? I did learn a very important fact that brought me some clarity though: many people wrap up body image with self image. Dr. Phil says that's a no no. Your image of your body should not affet your image of your self. I jotted that down as my challenge for the week.

While we're on the subject of husbands I feel like I am the last person in the world that will ever have one. Why is everyone around me getting married???? It's like Birds only diamond rings and bridal showers are attacking me. I feel like God knows I want to Feel Pretty Oh So Pretty in a white wedding dress and just says good for you but we're gonna let everyone around you get that first. Why couldn't he have had that train of thought when it came to my period????