Happy Beard Day You Cute Little Furbies!!

Tomorrow commences No Shave November!!

I was watching the new season of Whisker Wars on IFC this past summer/fall.
I've come to the sad conclusion that being a girl means that I can't brush my beard with a special beard comb.
Being a girl also means that I will never have that one time of day when I stroke my furry chin and pretend I'm intellectual and mysterious.


Nope, NOTHIN'. Not even a basket weave....

...or a scenic representation of a farm...
...or even little ringlets to match the shape of my glasses. ZIP. ZILCH. NADA.



I guess having a beard would make me very vain and force me to compete in Whisker competitions to win a wooden slab that says, "I'm a really hairy person."
Plus, can we discuss how much money I would spend on hair (beard) products?

But then again, something completely out of my control strikes again. Asian people can't grow hair for shit, and I'd be looking like my dad Confucius:

ROUGH

I know I have done a good job when I hurt.

For example
1) At the gym, my legs are tired, I'm absolutely exhausted, it hurts. I've done my job
2) After a hard night's of drinking, I wake up the next morning, head hurts. I've done my job.
3) The test was absolutely ridiculous. I know that no matter how many hours of studying I've put in, there would be no possible way for me to solve the 1 out of 3 problems given on the exam. My head hurts. I've done my job.
4) I fall in love. It ends. I cry. I doubt. I hurt. I know I've done my job.

So this next question brings me to ask: when did it become a job to live my life? When did it hurt so much to do things that should be second nature? I don't want life to be a "job." I want to be happy with what I do....

For example:
I ran a half marathon over a month ago. My main fear was that I wasn't going to be able to finish.
Before I started the race, I got hives.

I've never gotten hives in my life..

in my mind, i thought - well, maybe this is a sign

by mile five, i couldn't breathe

by mile 5.3, i stopped at a medic station

by mile 13.1, i couldn't believe i finished (!!)



Lesson learned.



here's what I've concluded.

--love all you want, people who don't recognize how great it is to be loved don't deserve it
--hate all you want, but know that because you dislike something about someone, people's inherent nature cannot change
--forgive as much as possible
--know that brighter things will happen for you in the future as long as you believe and love yourself first
--be confident, be happy; it's contagious

Reality

It seems that every girl that I know is downright addicted to reality TV. From the Kardashians to the really ugly hairstylists of Jerseylicious, they want to discuss and watch the lives of completely random strangers. Granted, I've been successfully brainwashed and sucked into every show my roommates love, but when I think about it - I mean, wow. How can I care that much about someone I don't even know?

A few weekends ago, I found myself in a 24-hour-diner in Philadelphia surrounded by drunk people. They came from a party at UPenn and all of them wore the same exact outfit. Granted, the outfit didn't fit everyone as planned - some were too loose, others were far too snug. In my own inebriated state, I made the mistake of calling a boy's butt "a Kim Kardashian butt." Immediately, I was ambushed by drink girls talking about Kim's wedding. These UPenn girls seemed to know everything about her - ranging from her ex-boyfriends to her favorite diet foods to her future hopes and dreams- I ended up leaving that diner know much more than I needed to about anyone other than a really close friend or family.

I don't get how they get us so hooked. How do people off the streets become so famous? How can we endure hours of straight up screaming (Jersey Shore, Real Housewives, Mob Wives?!) and still want to watch another episode?

Personally, I prefer Anthony Bourdain. *swoon* He just curses, travels and drinks a lot.

But until I get my own TV or my own place, I'll happily be watching Beverly Hills Housewives on my DVR and talking about how bad I feel for the new skinny girl with the cast.

Causing Mischief

Since halloween is coming soon, so is mischief night.
It's one of those holidays that I miss so much.
Growing up, the kids in my neighborhood and I would supply up on excess amounts of toilet paper.

....stealing a roll here.

......a roll there.

......a roll from our school bathroom.

It. Was. Awesome.

come 10 pm on October 30th - wayyyy past all of our bed times- we would go crazy.

The next mornings the parents thought it snowed outside with how much toilet paper we scattered.

It was a sad day (almost as sad as the day that I turned 11 and no letter from Hogwarts came for me ) when my parents told me they knew exactly what was going on every year I thought I was getting away with it.

This year, the following photos are my inspiration.

Wit and charm.

Whack TED talk.