Yearbooking

While Mary and Jay were spooning on the couch and watching crackheads get busted on "Cops," I stumbled across Yearbook Yourself. The results are the following:

1966. My mom graduated high school that year. I look outrageously like her in this photo.


1976. I kind of want to bring this back.

1978. I long for the day that I can truly pull off this hairstyle.


1980. My sister was born; I look like Jennifer Grey.


1994. I very distinctly remember thinking the high schoolers in Huntsville, Al., (where I lived in '94) were the absolute coolest people ever. The bad perms, the giant bangs--epitome of awesome.

Surprisingly (or not) enough, all of this fake/ridiculous yearbook pictures look a thousand times better than any real yearbook pictures I've taken. Except for 7th grade. I looked good in my 7th grade picture. But of course, they didn't use that one in the yearbook; they used the prime time (homeroom) picture instead. Bastards.

We went on vacation and came back on probation

Back in South Carolina, visiting the rents.

This trip however, is decidedly the best of all my South Carolina visits. I brought two of my friends with me to partake in the adventure. We've yet to be bored, and my parents have yet to annoy me. My cat is excited to see me (she's usually pissed). All's well, and I'm surprisingly not longing to be eaten by a gator.

My optimism and positive attitude is astounding.

(title of post from the back of the bouncers' t-shirt at Fat Tuesday)

Weddings

Sunday will be the second of three weddings I'll have attended by the end of this summer. Frankly, I'm over weddings. My attitude is mostly based in my inability to even get a date. However, marriage is indeed an antiquated ritual which was created during a time when life expectancy was 30, and "til death" wasn't that big of a commitment. The wedding ring was a symbol of ownership. And then the bride does things like this to her friends:


Anyway, weddings are expensive, they're a waste of time and to be honest--I want one.

I think I just peed myself

So I'm getting a double chin, fuck it.

This weekend was entirely unexpected. My dad visited and we went to my roommate's restaurant, which was delicious. After he left in his canary yellow rental car, my good friend from high school came to visit. We hung out in my apartment for a bit before we went upstairs to hang out with my neighbors. Beer pong was interesting; instead of signing up with names, we signed up with countries. Our first countries: Finland and Haiti (the obvious choices). Round two we were Malta and the Moon.People were jealous. When my roommate came home, the three of us hung out together. Then Schmidty and I stole music until it was time to go to bed. There are some people from high school that are more than worth it to me to keep in touch with. I'm so happy that even though it's been over a year since I've seen him, and three before that, we're still a little bit in each other's lives and he was able to stay over on his way to a bike thing in Northern Jersey.

Saturday I had nothing planned. Originally I was going to travel down the parkway to Brigantine for a friend's bachelorette, but I have no money. Then, whilst eating my Lucky Charms, AP offered me a free ticket to see the Phils annihilate the Braves and further enticed me with the possibility of seeing George Michael live in concert. The couch no longer seemed as appealing.

An enjoyable walk around Independence Mall and a visit to the Liberty Bell later, we found ourselves at Citizens Bank Park. I had great seats, thanks to Stub Hub's mistake. AP and her friend (who earned serious points that day, much to my chagrin) stood nearby after disliking their cheap seats. After the Phillies won, we went back to the car. They had a couple more beers as we discussed the reality of going to the George Michael show. I was going to be extraordinarily upset if we didn't go. We got tickets for $24. To top that off, we were relocated from section 210 to section 103. I unapologetically danced for the entire two and a half hours he was fabulous on stage. Though he didn't play "I Want Your Sex," "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me," "Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go)" or "Last Christmas," George Michael still rocked my world.
The title of my blog comes from a little chat G-Mike had with the audience about reviews of his show. I thought it was hilarious and adorable.

Love him!

And you know, I don't even feel bad that I had half a cheesesteak and a Coke. We walked a lot, and I danced my ass off. Also of note: Ally spilled beer all over the German in front of her.

Dropping the Weight

So, it turns out that I actually am fat. I'm not just big boned, chubby or a little overweight; I'm fat. I'm frustrated that I haven't seen any results yet, even though I've been eating like a saint (one Frosty does not a fat girl make). It's also been almost 20 days since my last drink and I have nothing to show for it.

Side note: I have a bottle of wine from Celia and Toby's wedding. It has an adorable picture of them on it, with their wedding date. I'm pretty sure that's an amazing reminder/symbol of my sobriety.

Back to being a fat girl. I know I shouldn't worry about what other people say, or think. However, this summer 2 people have directly commented on my weight. One parent at work (who notoriously overshares, but that's besides the point) came up to me to comment on how "beautiful" I am. She then said, "lose some weight." According to her, after I do so I will then be a "princess" and/or "the queen" of everything. The next day, one of my employees saw me in a bathing suit and mentioned how he was recently looking at my facebook pictures (creeper) and saw one from Halloween and said how "thin" I looked. The next thing he said: "What happened?"

I eat less than and healthier than most people I know. Yeah, sure I won't get heart disease in a few years. But I want to be thin!

Anyway, instead of whining about it, I'm finally taking bigger steps towards losing weight. I've joined sparkpeople.com, a free website that'll help track your nutrition, exercise, give you advice, etc. Check me out.

We'll see how it goes.

Next time on Chilly Cheeks: thunderstorms, DYFS and mothers

Sobriety

I have decided to stop drinking. Not that I ever really thought I had a problem, but I could see the potential for a problem, as detailed in some of my previous blog posts. There's a history of alcohol addiction in my family, and I've seen how ugly it can get--both in personal experience and on Dr. Drew's Celebrity Rehab.

My last drink was on July 5, 2008. It was Cel's wedding. I had fun, I didn't embarrass myself. I remember everything and regret nothing. But it was a beautiful wedding and a fun reception; there was no need for me to be drunk to enjoy it.

Today is July 21, meaning I've been sober for 16 days. I've been to parties and galas without experiencing the slightest temptation. I easily could have had a glass of champagne, but my suspicion that I was starting to have a problem developed from my inability to just have one. It would have to be two, most likely even more.

I'm also trying to lose weight. And let's face it, if it comes down to either a cookie or a beer--you know I'm going to have the cookie.