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Ice, snow, and no meltdown in sight.

Hello, friends and also people I’ve never met who will hopefully pre-order my book, maybe even before I’ve even written it? No? Ok, moving on.

This has not been the most proud week of my life. Then, in other ways, it has been absolutely one of the most impressive weeks I have ever lived.

For example, it has been snowing for approximately 86 days and all I’ve felt like doing is giving up and hibernating this winter away but instead of just wearing yoga pants to work and eating 17 Cadbury cream eggs in rapid succession like my body wants me to do, instead I have done EXTREMELY adult things like wearing snow boots to work but bringing heels in to change in my office, and wearing accessories even when the metal in the bracelet or necklace makes my skin really cold in the morning.

Those are the good things.

Then, at 4:52PM one day I looked down and realized I was wearing two different pairs of shoes. Am I in a rom com?


ALSO, today in the office I was nodding emphatically while someone was talking and I was acting like I was researching what they were saying online but really I was looking at bathing suits and I don’t think they ever would have noticed until I exclaimed “Why would Victoria’s Secret be blocked but GAP never is!?” and Brittney blinked and reminded me, “They’re half naked,” which is a good point but also ridiculous because I just wanted to do a little light pre-honeymoon beachwear browsing.

Aaaaand, this is a selfie I took in a meeting because my cousins were all sending our cousin Annette birthday selfies and I was stuck in said meeting, so, well, problem solved.


Ah, adulthood. Just exactly as scary as everyone said it would be.

However. If i’m being honest (and if this blog has taught you one thing, it at least should have taught you that I am always, at best, painfully honest. Although I sincerely hope it’s taught you more than one thing. I hope it’s taught you about the best celebrity baby names ever chosen, and how to plan a wedding in just 8 small meltdowns, and how to build a beautiful home out of glitter and recycled mason jars, and how to swear to God and yourself and everyone you know that you’d have a novel published by the age of 19 because if SE Hinton can do it, you can too, but then one day you’re 29 and you have a blog and it’s really fun and has a lot of followers and some are even from Italy and Africa and the UK (which you just know is Kate, obv) but again, let’s be honest, no one’s paying you to be funny on the internet) – anyway…I went a bit off the map with that one… let’s start again.

If I’m being honest the last 3 things I googled were “celebrities without makeup,” “Lorde boyfriend,” and “american horror story cast list” so no, I’m absolutely not turning into too much of a grown up, so you can stop panicking now.

it is embarrassing how often I google celebrities without makeup. Well, embarrassing for them. Not for me. I always have makeup on.

Cue anecdote about an email thread about wedding makeup in which I was the one and only person to request and then sign up for airbrush makeup for my friend Amy’s wedding. Basically here’s how the conversation went:

Amy: Who wants makeup?
Me: Ooh, I’ll take airbrush makeup!
6 girls: What is airbrush makeup?
Abby: I learned about airbrush makeup from the Kardashians. None for me, thanks.
Other girls: None for us, thanks. Ha! Those Kardashians!
Me: Not too proud to spray paint my face a healthy shade of tan. Sign me up!

You guys, I know that sounds bad, but have you ever seen pictures of someone who’s had really good airbrush makeup done? They look like pore-less, flawless androids and I find nothing more attractive than a girl who looks like she’s from an Adobe Photoshop ad. The good kind. Not the kind that ends up in an article on

So! That’s my week in complete and total self absorption, which I just realized is exactly what I sound like. I should clarify that I am absolutely a nice person and some the more positive things I contributed to humanity this week include getting someone into rehab (this was at work, mind you), calling every single client at the outpatient to apologize for the loss of power we had for 3 days, giving a client my banana because he said he hadn’t eaten all day and was waiting for a van to inpatient, let 2 people use my hand sanitizer even though that means 2 people’s hands were very dirty when they touched it, ordered Keenan’s fabulous Valentine’s gift(s), and did all my laundry on Monday.

That last one was for me.

So that’s it! Everyone have a fantastic weekend filled with yet another unwanted snowstorm and prepare yourselves to endure one entire week of hearts and chocolate and love and red sweaters at work.

Jk, chocolate’s awesome.


Jk again, love’s awesome too :)


Not very Pinteresting.

Hello, everyone! I know one of my new years resolutions was to write at least once a week, but hey,  my other resolutions were to go to the gym every day, clean out my car, and remember to do my returns from Christmas, so I guess you can say I’m right on target with the not writing since I haven’t done any of that stuff either.


Instead, I’ve been obsessively organizing my Pinterest board.  It’s one of my superpowers to be able to take a fun, carefree online website and turn it into another reason to wake up in the middle of the night sweating because I know that I accidentally pinned a dessert recipe to my wedding board and I have 3.7k pins that I’ve “liked” instead of putting them into the proper board, so yes, to answer your question, I’m just as insane as I was last year.


If I got paid to do Pinterest projects I’d still be incredibly broke, because although I am diligent about pinning things, I very rarely actually put them into practice.  On Friday night, I decided to change that by making Keenan & Sean an amazing carb-free dinner of zucchini crust BBQ chipotle pizza.  Sounds amazing, right?  I KNOW.


I would love to show you the photos of the process and the finished product, but I got my iPhone 2 entire months ago so naturally there is no space left for photos and so I wasn’t able to document the kitchen mastery I exhibited.  However, I can describe it for you in just a few words, because that’s a skill that chefs slash writers like me have: it was not a pizza after all.  It was a big, sloppy mess that Keenan very kindly described as “kind of like a western omelette.”  He and Sean ate the entire thing, because they are so nice, and because they were so starving.


This is what I was going for.

The recipe told me to combine mozzarella, egg, parmesan, and shredded zucchini to make the pizza crust.  I was supposed to put it on parchment paper and then voila! Green pizza for everybody.  However we didn’t have a food processor, we had that Magic Bullet thing, and we didn’t have parchment paper, we had tin foil.  So the zucchini was less shredded than liquefied, and the tin foil quickly adhered to the cheesy zucchini soup, and this resulted in Sean trying very hard to avoid getting the tin foil in his fillings because apparently that electrocutes your head or something.


I am going to be the best wife.



Speaking of which, the other thing I’m doing is having stress dreams about wedding planning while simultaneously avoiding any and all wedding planning.  We have been engaged for 9 months (what?!) and I have absolutely hit a wall when it comes to talking about flowers, shoes, table numbers, and invitations. I never thought I would ever say that sentence.  But here we are.  And I have no shoes.


And that’s pretty much all I have to talk about today. What with the weather, I’ve been practically held captive in my home and so the chances of me having much going on are slim to none.  Other than the baby shower I went to today for my lovely friend Brynn, for which I accidentally bought a wedding shower card because I didn’t read it all the way through and then was forced to climb through the passenger side of my car because I chose to wear 3 inch heels in 2.5 inches of snow, I’ve been pretty boring.  One cool thing is that I joined a body bootcamp workout class on a whim when I saw it on Groupon, and once I came to my senses it turned out it was a nonrefundable purchase, so I’d recommend you coming back here to hear about that.  Nothing will be funnier than reading about my bootcamp experiences, unless of course you have the rare privilege of being the woman behind me in class.


Also!  Just as all things come full circle, so will my blog: though I have nothing much to say right now, the Grammy’s are on this evening, and nothing says blog material like overpaid untalented famous people making spectacles of themselves on national TV.  Plus, Taylor Swift’s shoulder dancing.

See you there!





New year, new you. But I’m pretty much the same.

Happy new year, everybody! My new year’s resolution was to wait 9 days into the new year to write my new year’s post, and I don’t want to rub it in in case you’ve already eaten a few white chocolate covered Oreos or skipped a few nights on the treadmill (two things I certainly have not done myself), but I’m clearly keeping MY resolution.

You guys! It’s Kate Middleton’s birthday! It is so amazing that I even have time to sit here and write this entry when obviously I am fielding phone calls from Queen Lizzie about the décor (regal) and the color scheme (champagne, obv), and the drinks (champagne, obv), and making sure Kate & I don’t accidentally wear the same thing again (ugh, we just have all the same fascinators).

But these are the sacrifices I make for you guys. I take 20 minutes out of my day to write devastatingly poignant prose, and then I write a bunch of stuff that I think is funny about celebrities and I post that instead.

Kate’s birthday is one of the best things that have happened this year, and I know the year is only 9 days old, but I don’t think it’s too soon to say things like that. Other awesome things that have happened are Keenan & I meeting with a realtor, the new season of The Bachelor starting, Downton Abbey’s triumphant return, and that I have a hair appointment tonight. Ah, life! You are so great and only half of you actually takes place on television!

Keenan & I did meet with a realtor right after the new year and that was a super grown up and important thing for us to do. Of course I spent an hour in front of my closet (haha, jk, obviously my clothes are on the floor) trying to figure out what outfit would strike the right balance between “I am a serious businesswoman who will absolutely not be swayed by your attempt to make us spend way too much money” and “I will collapse in a delighted heap if you show me a shanty to live in as long as it has a fireplace and a mantle.” (Pinterest has gotten me way into mantles.) Preparing to meet with the realtor felt a lot like preparing to look for wedding venues. You want them to think, ok, these people have it together, but also think, yes, I can see why someone would want to live with her for the rest of her life. You want them to think these people look like grown-ups, but also not TOO old, and that we look reasonably able to afford a nice place to live but not TOO able to afford it or else they start showing you champagne fountains and $12,000 wedding dresses and then things just get out of hand. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. I guess my point is that when I say I was “preparing to meet with a realtor” I mean Keenan was running the numbers and making lists of “wants” and “needs” (aka “needs” and “needs,” if you’re asking me) and I was trying to figure out which shade on the Naked Palette best expressed my desire for hardwood floors and a fancy little foyer.


On Sunday my Kohl’s cash was going to expire so I went there and spent a grueling 2 hours in the home section sweating over the decision between a comforter for a bed we do not have, a juicer for a kitchen we do not have (and for juice we will not make), and pillows to decorate a sofa we do not have. I was sweating and getting anxious and this just isn’t the way $70 in Kohl’s cash is supposed to make you feel. So finally I just went into the homegoods section and landed myself a pretty little ottoman that was originally $139.99 and then was on sale for $69.99 so I got it for FREE. I know it’s tacky to talk about money but this was free so it’s actually not like talking about money at all, and anyway, I love our new ottoman. It will fit nicely into the living room we do not have.

I hope everyone’s ushering in of 2014 was a delight. 2013 was an important year and I think it behooves all of us to remember the most influential things that happened during those 12 months. In no particular order, I remind you that last year Kate Middleton was fabulously pregnant, and Kim Kardashian less fabulously so. The word got out that Kate was in labor and we all watched a guarded hospital door for a few hours, and then finally HRH Prince George was born unto the world! Meanwhile, in America, Kim Kardashian and Kanye West though it would be funny to name their daughter North, and then hide her from the world in an attempt to be “private” aka to sell her photos to the highest bidder. Also, Miley Cyrus showed us what she’s made of (apparently just latex and a very long tongue), I got engaged (!), I survived my 11 year high school reunion, Mindy Kaling favorited one of my tweets, I was the victim of internet credit card theft, Carrie Underwood was a statue of Maria Von Trapp, I chose my wedding dress, Jessica Simpson was also pregnant
which I completely forgot about, Kate Middleton went grocery shopping, and I got an iPhone.

It was a big year.

This year, I expect will be equally fantastic. Rumor has it that Kate’s pregnant again, Keenan & I get married in 219 days (but who’s counting?), I’m already way into live tweeting the Bachelor and offering my unsolicited opinions on any and all girls on the show, Keenan & I are getting into the thick of house searching, I have several other fabulous weddings to attend this year (not least of all Pippa’s, which of course I’ll be attending despite the fact that she’s not marrying a royal. Alas, we can’t all be Queen), they’re making like 6 of the best books ever into movies this year, and hopefully North West gets her own Instagram account.

A girl can dream.

Cheers, dahling.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Hello, all! Thank you for dragging yourself away from whatever end of the year Buzzfeed list you’re reading about the 2013 best things about 2013 or whatever other summaries of the previous 12 months they’ve seen fit to write about this December.


I’m not mocking. I love Buzzfeed. I love numbered lists. And I love the new year. So for those of you into foreshadowing, I suggest you remember this paragraph.


So much has happened lately!  I’m leasing my office for more days per week, Keenan got a fabulous new job, I found my bridesmaid dresses, my cousins have actually made it 8 weeks watching the same show every Wednesday, Kate Middleton wore a slinky white gown, I got 29 retweets on one tweet on Twitter, and I finally got the Urban Decay Naked Palette and yes, it’s all it’s cracked up to be.




I know I promised to write more frequently but obviously I have broken that promise.  If you want to put that into perspective, allow me to remind you that Kate & Wills all but VOWED to have another royal baby announcement by Christmas and guess what, not a peep out of those two pips, so I guess we all just need to take a moment to understand how hard life is when you’re a royal and also when you’re a therapist, because Kate & I are both very busy.  She’s busy wearing lovely long winter coats at charity events and I’m busy looking for a replica of them in the juniors section of Target.  We all have our crosses to bear.


As if all of this weren’t enough reason to not be able to blog, Carrie Underwood starred in a remake of the Sound of Music, and that took me at least 3 weeks to process, so obviously I couldn’t sit down long enough to focus on a blog topic.

enhanced-buzz-14324-1370443327-38 They spelled my name wrong.

Editor’s Note: this is not implying that now I am actually going to focus on one blog topic.  In fact, this is more like a dump of every single thing I’ve thought about ever in the past 5 weeks and now, dear, readers, you get to experience what it’s like in my head all the live long day.  Seriously, why can’t I just be normal and pretend that my thought patterns are linear and that I have everything together, the way it appears?  People meet me and they’re probably like, “Yeah, she seems ok, she has her nails done and she has a master’s degree and an above-average grasp of the English language” and then I’m like “MY CAR’S REGISTRATION WAS DUE IN SEPTEMBER” or “I’M ON BOOK NUMBER 48 IN A PERSONAL CHALLENGE TO READ 50 BOOKS THIS YEAR” and everyone’s like, oh, ok, she’s crazy.


I think I lost the track on that one.  Anyway.  Moving on.


Let’s talk about Carrie as Maria, and a vampire as Captain Von Trapp, shall we?

First of all, let me just say:

Carrie Underwood.

Amazing legs? Check.

Flawless singing voice? Check.

Face like a stone when she starts acting? Also check.

And therein lies the problem.


You can’t sing heartfelt songs as a lovable ex-nun fleeing Nazis and your future husband’s love and look like a country singer in an unfortunate dress.  Do, a deer, a deer in headlights.  That’s what I keep thinking about.  It’s funny and it’s a good pun, but come on, lady.  And while we’re on the topic forgive me but did you forget the words sometimes?  There is no excuse for this. I know it’s more stressful when everyone’s watching but allow me to just say that when i watch the Sound of Music I get every word right on the money and my entire family is watching me perform that.  That’s commitment.  i haven’t even mentioned my flawless performance of Grease, and I won’t, because I like you and I like Jesus Take the Wheel.  Not to mention that I was an extra in not only a TV show on NBC but in Transformers 2 in which my left shoulder played a crucial role in the party in the frat house scene.  So I think i understand a little but about acting.


You can’t yodel your way out of this one, Underwood.


I know I mentioned some stuff up there about my wedding (which, by the way, is 8 months away!!) and then pretty much implied that I had a more visceral reaction to a live tv production of a musical, so don’t worry – I’ve got plenty of wedding stuff to fill you in on, if you’re interested.  If not, well, this is my blog and so I’m just going to keep talking about it but you can feel free to skip on down to a few paragraphs from now where I’ll be talking at length about the Knorth West eyebrow waxing scandal (working on my cliffhangers. Impressed?).


So yes, I found my bridesmaids dresses!  It was super simple, all I did was pick the color navy and decide on short dresses, and then switch to pink, and then switch to long, and then switch to champagne, and then get involved in an online Hong Kong dress scandal ring, and then search Pinterest for 28 weeks, and just when I thought the girls were just going to be wearing tablecloths with a piece of rope as a belt I finally found my one true love (other than Keenan, of course, and my own dress, so ok, my 3rd true love)!

It is a very strange thing to go shopping for dresses which you want to absolutely love but you don’t try them on, you boss other people around and make THEM try them on, and then you don’t buy them, you make OTHER people buy them, and finally you completely love them but will never get to wear them yourself.  This is super weird for me because my family is so terrible at individually being the person to take the lead and we are so desperate to make sure everyone’s happy that we will do pretty much anything to please everyone, which, as you might expect, leads to many enjoyable panic attacks and occasional nervous breakdowns, wheeeee!   So I finally choose my dresses and then I begin to obsessively ask every single person in my wedding how they feel about them and they all say they love it so I sign the contract at which time I begin to systematically doubt my decision and ruminate on it every moment of every day until I finally just delete the picture of it off my phone because I just. can’t. stop. looking for flaws.




I’m having the best time!!!


Also I’ve done such a good job of keeping all of my wedding details to myself that now I’ve become completely neurotic about worrying that I’m telling people things I don’t want them to know, like my wedding is some kind of hugely anticipated live-for-tv remake of a beloved american musical (see what I did there?).  I am under no illusions that anyone cares if they’re “surprised” or not by the venue or the decor or the color scheme, all details that I have inexplicably dubbed “classified,” and it all started out with me not telling anyone what my wedding dress looks like and has branched out to the point that I don’t even know if anyone knows Keenan’s definitely the groom, maybe that’s just a red herring I tossed in to throw everybody off, now wouldn’t THAT be a big surprise?!



I am doing really great.


So I promised that I would talk about Knorth West’s eyebrows, but honestly, what else is there to say?  The media says Kim is waxing her 5 month old baby’s eyebrows, and Kim says she’s not.  I think we all know who to believe here.



And that news, my friends, is my Christmas gift to you.  You’re welcome.


Facebook says you’re doing well: The new high school reunion.

I’m back! I know I promised I’d be more consistent with my posts but to be perfectly honest HRH Kate Middleton promised us another royal baby announcement by Christmas and here we are, 31 days from baby Jesus’ birthday, and nothing. Nothing. So forgive me if I’m not more consistent than the royal family. Forgive me.

As always, I have reasons. In no particular order, I have been:

1) still thinking about Kim Kardashian’s engagement and how she thinks she’s perfected the “I’m just fixing my hair, oh this old thing?” even though Kate started it and I copied.

2) preparing for my 11 year high school reunion by being the most useless member of the reunion party planning committee

3) seeing the midnight showing of Catching Fire with 3 other adults and 200 high school kids (don’t worry, we were first in line. Sorry, kids, age before people who didn’t read the books.)photo 4
4) decorating my office for Christmas so I feel less depressed while I’m there (it’s an experiment, and the control group is every day of the rest of my life)photo 3
5) staring at my new iPhone because after a year without one, a lot has changed and I absolutely need to read the entire internet before it’s too latephoto 1
6) choosing bridesmaids dresses! Wahoo!

7) being audited at workphoto 2

8) Getting my tweet favorited by Mindy Kaling. Natch.

Screen shot 2013-10-07 at 8.13.00 AM

So. I’ve been busy. But please don’t get jealous. Those other blogs mean nothing! I thought about you the whole time!

Obviously the reunion was the biggest thing that’s happened so far this month, though my new champagne iPhone which matches my wedding and yes that is the primary reason I picked it is a close second and we can talk about that later. I was flipping through my yearbook before the big reunion night and, as you may be aware, I graduated in the year when it was very important that everyone KEEP IN TOUCH and NEVER CHANGE and that we all loved each other like SISTERS or at least, you know, commented on each other’s pictures on Facebook once in a while. “Never change,” people kept writing to me. Well, never fear, classmates. I still have hair frizz issues, it still took me 45 minutes to pick an outfit, I still have the gorgeous skin of an adolescent, and I still don’t know what to do with my arms in pictures!


Quick story about the adolescent skin thing: you must be thinking right now, “Oh, Sandi, you’re so self deprecating and funny and not at all serious. You look fine in your pictures!” Well, folks, I am sponsored by the Instagram filter that makes me look that way. Once I was in the mall and this man working at one of those carts who always see a sucker from a mile away calls me over. Of course I go, because in this story, *SPOILER ALERT*, I’m the sucker. He’s selling skin products, and this is his intro:

Him: Would you like to try my face lotion?
Me: No, I’m fine, thank you.
Him: Are you sure? How old are you?
Me: Why? How old do you think I am?
Him: 19.
Me: You’re my favorite person in the world right now. I’m 28.
Him: Yes, I think you are 19 because of the pimples.
Me: Oh. Is this, like, a sales technique?

So. There’s that.

Screen shot 2013-11-24 at 1.52.41 PMIMG_0223

Cousins, before & after.

Anyway, the reunion. There was a good turnout, lots of jokes about teachers who didn’t show up (all of them), reminiscing about embarrassing things that happened in class, and everyone drinking together, legally, for the first time ever. But you know what? You’d think that Facebook would kind of make things easier, right? Like, you recognize everybody, and you kind of know what they’re up to, and maybe you liked a picture of their engagement ring or something so they know you still exist. But instead of making it more normal to talk to each other, it made things super awkward and more like meeting celebrities than seeing old friends. Like, “ooh, I know you from the internet!” and you’re thinking, how much do I know because you or someone else told me, and how much do I know because I stalked your Facebook so intensely that I ended up looking at pictures of your mother and her friends on a girls’ weekend in Atlantic City?

Screen shot 2013-02-16 at 9.23.00 PM

I said to Keenan, “I guess I should have prepared some questions in case things get awkward.” “Stick with family and work,” he suggested. “I already know all that stuff!” I exclaimed. “What do I ask them?!” So I started out with compliments but slowly we all slid down the slippery slope and started commenting on people’s children who we’d never met and weddings that we hadn’t attended. “I hear your son is sleeping through the night now,” I said to a person who I last saw bonging a beer at a graduation party. “I see that your morning commute is a nightmare.” I don’t think anyone asked me a question all night; they just commented on what they’d already seen. We were like a room of creepy stalkers, and it was socially acceptable to admit it. A Creepy Stalker Convention.

And I’m on the committee.









Highway Robbery.

Ladies and gentlemen: I’ve been robbed.

I know.  I can’t believe it either.  Here I am, just having faith in humanity and trying to be a GOOD PERSON and doing what I’m supposed to do (except for registering my car; I still haven’t registered my car. AGAIN.  Whatever.) and then I get a letter in the mail that HOORAY! I finally get picked for jury duty!

I imagine that your reaction to that statement is pretty similar to everyone else who I told this story to: you want to know why I’d want jury duty, as I’m apparently the only person in the country who actually wants it.

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When I got the questionnaire, I knew all the ways to beat the system and not get picked: say you’ve been a victim of a crime, say you’re biased against people, say you work for yourself.  So I did the exact opposite of that.  I was the least victimized, most fair, less employed person in the world.  I mailed that sucker in and then I just waited, and waited, and fantasized about the awesome people I would meet and the great opportunities I would have for talking people into taking my side of an argument (hello, dream come true), and picking out cute clothes for court, and maybe even a 12 Angry Men situation in which I, of course, was Henry Fonda.  It’s my duty, NAY, my RIGHT, as an American citizen, and by God I wanted to report for duty!

45 Things You've Experienced Working In Retail

But I wasn’t picked. They didn’t want me!  I marched my heels and sensible pants and cheeky blazer (an excellent choice for the first day) into that courthouse and saluted the Judge and my enthusiasm just was too much for them, maybe.  “Stand down, soldier.” I could imagine them saying. “At ease.”  Except that none of this happened, because now you can just log onto a website and type in your ID and find out that no, you weren’t selected, carry on with your day, don’t even show up, I don’t want to see your blazer.  Soldier.

I was robbed. I deserved that spot, I earned it, and I bet you there’s some girl on that jury right now who didn’t even WANT to be there, probably isn’t even listening to the proceedings and has probably never seen one episode of Criminal Minds and, not to be catty, but she probably isn’t even wearing heels.  That girl robbed me.  So THAT dream was shattered.

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THEN!  I was robbed again.  Only this time, I was really and truly and ACTUALLY robbed!  Can you even believe this?!

Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Sandi and I am the worst bride in the world.  I have been doing exactly nothing in lieu of looking for bridesmaid dresses.  My mother has tried her best to be super un-annoying about it and therefore has only asked me roughly nine thousand times if I’ve thought of any ideas for dresses for the girls.  So the other day I’m on Facebook playing level 99 of Candy Crush doing something very serious and important when what do I see but an ad for a bridesmaid dress shop!  A few people have actually mentioned it to me and it turns out it’s completely adorable and one of the first places I’ve found with dresses I can imagine being in my wedding.  I order a few swatches to try out some color options and 2 dresses which, I confirm, are fully refundable.  I am super excited and finally feel like I didn’t just invent a nonexistent dress in my head which I’ll never, ever find, which is ordinarily the story of my life.  I am elated.  I am ecstatic.

Two days later the bank calls.  Did I purchase items from a baby & infant boutique in Hong Kong?  Um, no. No I did not.  Unfortunately, however, my bank statement says otherwise.

45 Things You've Experienced Working In Retail

“I cannot believe this!” I exclaim to the bank lady.  “I am a victim of fraud!” I couldn’t stop exclaiming that. It all just seemed so serious when you threw the word “fraud” in there.  “I’ve been robbed!  And I am not an idiot! This website looked legit! Do you want to log on and see for yourself?!” She does not.  “I promise you I don’t fall for things like this. I’ve never, like, sponsored an Egyptian princess after reading an email forward or anything. I’m smart.” I actually said this.  Then I immediately prayed she wasn’t Egyptian, a princess, or my mother or aunts who actually spent the better part of the early 2000s sending those email forwards around.

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I did eventually get my money back, but what a debacle – not to mention the fact that my dream bridesmaid dress is now officially GONE and I’m back to square one.  Had this happened before the jury duty paperwork arrived, I would have HAD to check the “victim of a crime” box, because a liar I am not.  So thank God for the timing of this little nightmare. Silver lining!

Other things that have happened this week that left me feeling a bit, well, less than awesome?
Kate Middleton’s stomach.  Really?
Let’s take a quiz: The photo above is a picture of a) a woman who gave birth 88 days ago or b) a picture of Kate, with my stomach circa 8th grade photoshopped onto her midsection.  I’ll let you work that one out  by yourself.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Sara and I are breathing from our cores and lengthening our tailbones and dislocating our hips while attempting Half Pigeon Pose in yoga class on Monday, and Kim Kardashian’s out there somewhere being proposed to by Kanye West.  So now Kim & I are engaged together.  At the same time.  You know, I was really hoping to lead a parallel life to Kate Middleton, but there you have it. I get North West’s parents. Le sigh.
Did we think that the parents of a child whose name is essentially a lifelong cocktail party joke would go with understated and timeless glamour?  No, no we did not, which is why we’re not surprised that Kanye decided on a fifteen carat diamond.  15 carats? Really?  THREE carats is large.  15 carats is a Ring Pop.
Sara’s reaction: “That’s insane. How can you be ok with that? She should feel guilty every day over what that money could be used for.”   Again: not a family filled with forethought.  Though perhaps one day she will feel some regret at this insanity, and if I were a betting woman, but I’m not, because I don’t have any money and I would never wager my shoe collection, I would bet that day would be when her family finally goes bankrupt because the general public has finally realized that the Kardashians do not have jobs and being famous is not a career.
According to highly reliable news source Wikipedia, Kanye rented out AT&T Stadium in San Francisco to propose to Kim during her 33rd birthday celebration.
Fine. Great job renting out the baseball field.  Also pretty impressive with having the Chicago Orchestra playing Lana Del Rey while you proposed, although you ARE Kanye West – was Lana Del Rey herself booked or something?  That’s ok. I’m sure Kim didn’t mind.
You know what else I just thought of?  This is way off topic, but I bet when you’re a celebrity it’s a lot harder to figure out when you’re getting engaged than when you’re just a regular person.  Think about it: if your boyfriend is not, say, Kanye West (which hopefully he’s not otherwise, whoops, sorry Kim, didn’t realize you read my blog – great hair by the way) and you learned that he was renting out an entire baseball field for your date, wouldn’t you know that you were getting engaged that night?  I know I for one would have gotten my nails done had I heard those were my evening plans.  When you’re Kim Kardashian, however, and have just piles of money everywhere despite never doing anything remotely resembling a job (seriously, Kim, your hair is amazing), that’s just another night out.  Except that insiders report that Kanye & Kim arrived at the site of their proposal in a “regular limo,” not a “huge ostentatious stretch,” so I guess he was trying to save money, and that might have thrown her off the scent. Being a celebrity is hard.
The kicker?  The Jumbotron flashed the words ”PLEEEASE MARRY MEEE!!!” – with that exact number of “E”s.  I know because of course I was there.  I guess if we’re going on the sole basis of the number of extra letters in that proposal, Kanye wanted Kim to marry him more than any other guy who ever proposed.  Good for them.
So.  Congrats, you two.  Good luck with the planning.  Kim, if you need any solid budget-conscious wedding ideas, check out my Pinterest, and steer clear of – unless you want to end up a victim of a Hong Kong infant bridesmaid dress fraud ring.
Oh, and Kanye?  I’m really happy for you and I’mma let you finish, but Keenan had the best proposal of all time.

Party, rock.

I know what you’re thinking.  Yes, it’s true I’ve been a little lax on the blogging lately.  But in case you weren’t aware, we threw my parents a 30th surprise anniversary extravaganza nightmare party, and that was last Saturday, and it has taken me exactly 192 hours to recover from that, and now here I am, back and better than ever.  You’re welcome.

We invited 70 people to our house and just kind of conveniently forgot to plan how to get my parents out of the way for 3 hours in order to set up and get everyone here and then shush them for 45 minutes and then yell “Surprise!” and also “I’m sorry there are so many people in your house!”

I was a total lunatic throughout the planning and even worse than that during the day OF the party.  My parents predictably refused to leave the house until 4:55pm and the first party guest showed up at 5:02pm.  By the time more people started arriving, almost nothing was ready and I had literally sweated through my dress.  My sister pointed this out to me and I almost died.  “What is this?!” I thought, panicked.  “Is my body actually CRYING from the exertion of this party planning?!”  People started asking me what they could do to help and I was actually giving them assignments and they were all shooting each other nervous glances and I’m pretty sure they were saying to each other, “I talked to her a few weeks ago and she seemed ok and then she had this whole party to plan, and now I guess she’s on crack.”


It was horrific, but my mother cried and my dad yelled “WHAT DA HELL” when he saw us all in the backyard, so really it turned into quite the big success.

Then I got the flu for 3 days, which was awesome, and at one point on Monday I actually had the thought, “What if I die?  What if I actually die?  That will be so embarrassing.  I have to clean out my car.”  I mean, it’s bad enough that if I had died on Monday I would need to be posthumously published.  I don’t need to be posthumously judged, too.

But then I got better, and my car’s still a mess.  So.  YOLO.


It’s been a big week for my family.

The other thing I did in the past week is attend both my brother’s art show at SJU and my sister’s concert at the Trocadero.  If you want to think of something hilarious, try to picture me in hoop anigif_enhanced-buzz-23932-1368029657-1earrings and heels while surrounded by artsy fedora people with strong opinions about life and art and, I don’t know, probably my smoky eye makeup.  Philip & Carol were phenomenal but I couldn’t help but observe the way that my mother & I looked like “hey, who brought the chaperones?” at the concert and finally I just gave up trying to look cool and obscure and just took out my crappy Blackberry and started pretending to text someone, while really I was just typing funny comments about the people around me that I could use in my blog later.


My mother and I went to my sister’s show alone because we’re really cool and don’t need a crowd to prove it.  The man at the front desk collecting money looks like the UnSub in about 12 episodes of Criminal Minds, and he’s clearly judging us for being old and also probably for my choice to wear a blazer unironically to a concert venue.  We settle in to our seats and in walk 50 other people who are wearing carefully constructed outfits that scream I just rolled out of bed, I don’t care, I don’t care, I made this necklace out of organically grown hemp and an old button, I don’t care, these shoes are actually ace bandages, this tshirt was 42 dollars at Urban Outfitters, whatever.


I shopped at Urban Outfitters once.  I thought it was a thrift store.  Then I realized the scarf I had in my hand cost 97 dollars and was hand sewn by a conscientious objector and her shirtless boyfriend.  So I put it down and went to H&M instead.  Those Europeans really know what they’re doing with the discount clothing.


So, back at the venue, everyone was drinking either PBR or warm craft beer.  Everyone had on
tshirts that may or may not have been preowned.  They’re all in a competition to see whose hair looks the least high-maintanence, and they’re all winning.  I was waiting for someone to break out the clove cigarettes and an old instamatic camera when finally, finally, another person with hoop earrings showed up.  It’s my cousin.  Phew.  But these heels were clearly a mistake.  I look like I care way too much.  Hanging out with a bunch of 20 year olds is the fastest way to feel bad about wearing brand new clothing purchased at a reputable store without a go-green motto.  Sorry I didn’t wear a recyclable trash bag out tonight, guys.  Thought I’d go with skinny jeans and heels.  My bad.


I settle in to fake-text my friends and play a rousing game of Hipster or Homeless.  I can picture them having a conversation before heading out for the night: “No I can’t afford any clothes, no can’t afford any clothes! ”  Listen, you guys, the economy is crap.  NONE of us can afford any clothes.  But you don’t have to flaunt it.  Plus I know that shirt just looks pre-worn.  It’s probably more expensive than mine.

fS773PSCarol puts on a phenomenal little concert and I sufficiently humiliate her by taking pictures from every possible angle, including kneeling on the ground, which in retrospect was probably unnecessary and also kind of embarrassing to me as well as to her.  Like, relax, lady, you don’t work for the school paper.  Grab an IPA and have a seat.  Once Carol is done, we decide to stick around to hear the next band and get exactly one song in before my mother looks incredibly confused and disturbed.  “Why aren’t there any instruments?” she screams into my ear.  “They don’t play instruments,” I yelled back.  “It’s an electronic band.  They play computers.”  I saw the look on my mother’s face, and I could read her expression and I knew exactly what she was thinking: I could have gotten up there and played Candy Crush for 45 minutes for a $10 cover charge.

So that’s a week in the life of Sandi.  Other than that, my big excitement has been trying to avoid Downton spoilers but K. Middleton keeps texting me every Sunday night like clockwork (jk Kate!  Call me girrrrl!) and I just don’t know how I’ll make it to January without seeing how the Dowager is doing when all my pals over the pond are enjoying it as we speak.


Life is hard.


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