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Archive for March 2013

5

People are always knocking the single bed. I’ll be the first to say, I love my single bed! It’s comfortable and cozy and is more than enough room for me.

I just can’t justify the extra space in a bigger bed. This is not to say I always sleep alone. My boyfriend sleeps comfortably in my bed with me, as do my (non-sleep-limb-flailing) friends and my little brother and my family puppy (all at different times, of course). Many have slept in my bed and had no complaints about space.

My childhood bed is a queen, but once I got my first apartment, I wanted more floor space. I’ve lived in several apartments since then, but never felt the need to move in my big, beautiful antique bed from my parents’ house.

Normally, I sleep on the edge of the bed, don’t spread out, and rarely move around, so why do I need a bed that takes up so much space in my room? For me, that space is more wisely invested in having a very open floor to move around on.

A bigger bed may be ideal for guests, but I sleep sort of half-off of it being on the edge, so guests essentially get the whole thing. Even when I sleep other places in bigger beds, I sleep on the edge. That childhood bed was almost a waste, except my grandmother slept in it when she visited. I wasn’t relegated to a sleeping bag in my brother’s room on the floor, because I was completely not noticeable as a sleeping companion taking up no space. She said I was the easiest person to sleep with because she didn’t even know I was there.

In my experience, a single bed is perfectly fine for one person, and is quite comfortable for two people who don’t spread out in sleep or have violent movements during their sleep. The only problem is if one of you snores…but that is an unfortunate issue that doesn’t change with bed size.

It’s Spring! Time to Beautify.

PinkRose

This DIY at-home scrub is the perfect remedy for your body’s dry winter skin.

Ingredients:

1 cup raw brown sugar
4 ounces jojoba oil
4 ounces avocado oil

3 tablespoons lemon juice
4 drops lavender oil

Instructions:

Mix everything together. Then use as an exfoliator in the shower.

See also:
Trix Hair
Trix Nails
Trix Face
Trix Lips

You should constantly update your playlist (whether it’s men or music). As I do every month, I’m sharing the beats racing my laces at the moment. Right now, it’s a mix of alt-pop and mainstream hits for paced winter runs.

Just Do It #2 2013

“Lights Out” ♦ Santigold
“Cockiness (Love It) Remix (Explicit Version)” ♦ A$AP Rocky
“Can’t Hold Us” ♦ Macklemore & Ryan Lewis
“Karate Chop” ♦ Lil’ Wayne
“The Clapping Song” ♦ Shirley Ellis
“All Around The World” ♦ Justin Bieber ft. Ludacris
“Cinema” ♦ Benny Benassi & Gary Go
“Bruises” ♦ Chairlift
“I Like It” ♦ Sevyn Streeter
“1901” ♦ Phoenix
“Kisses Down Low” ♦ Kelly Rowland
“Listen” ♦ Beyonce

Enjoy!
♥Gigi

 

Click below to see previous playlists…

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night

I used to take a T-shirt from every guy I slept with in my college days. I went to NYU, which meant many nights out on the town and tired feet at 4am…and a sleepover here or there. Not a fan of the walk of shame, I would “borrow” a T-shirt from my gentlemen friend of the evening.

I know I’m not the only one.  Admit it: Sometimes you take home a little something to remember a fun night. Scraps of paper/receipts, a book you want to read, a pen, a water bottle, boxers, a pack of gum, a sweater, a lighter, sunglasses. These are not souvenirs, but “screwvenirs.”

My very first hookup involved my bra being taken. It was “lost.” While I never saw it again, I did hear quite a few guys at school had…not so cool.

But anyway, later in life, what do you do with these things you’ve collected that no longer have meaning and are just taking up space in your closet? You can throw them away of course, but I’m all about re-purposing materials. As for those T-shirts, I’ve recently used scissors and safety pins and my bedazzler (yes—it was a gift) to refashion them. I get compliments when I wear them out, and I can’t help but giggle remembering the guy who owns whatever particular shirt I’m wearing and that particular time in my life.

What’s your awesome screwvenir story?

imagesI think we can all take something away from John Updike’s rules, whether we are critiquing someone’s writing, art, or any form of creative expression—even a fashion choice. Not all apply to things other than literature, but the “added sixth” is a nice lesson. Here they are:

1. Try to understand what the author wished to do, and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt.

2. Give enough direct quotation—at least one extended passage—of the book’s prose so the review’s reader can form his own impression, can get his own taste.

3. Confirm your description of the book with a quotation from the book, if only phrase-long, rather than proceeding by fuzzy précis.

4. Go easy on plot summary, and do not give away the ending.

5. If the book is judged deficient, cite a successful example along the same lines, from the author’s œuvre or elsewhere. Try to understand the failure. Sure it’s his and not yours?

To these concrete five might be added a vaguer sixth, having to do with maintaining a chemical purity in the reaction between product and appraiser. Do not accept for review a book you are predisposed to dislike, or committed by friendship to like. Do not imagine yourself a caretaker of any tradition, an enforcer of any party standards, a warrior in any ideological battle, a corrections officer of any kind. Never, never try to put the author “in his place,” making of him a pawn in a contest with other reviewers. Review the book, not the reputation. Submit to whatever spell, weak or strong, is being cast. Better to praise and share than blame and ban. The communion between reviewer and his public is based upon the presumption of certain possible joys of reading, and all our discriminations should curve toward that end.

ShebaDay One was the Superbowl, so we traveled to my bf’s house to watch. She slept in the car and was the life of the party as well as the only Ravens fan (sans me) in her purple and glitter-bombed gloriousness. She passed out before the game ended thanks to the blackout. After the victorious win, she whined when she couldn’t sleep in bed with us. I lifted her up after Joe fell asleep, since I would never fall asleep with her crying. I put her back on the ground early in the morning to disguise this fact, but by 7am, she’d figured out how to jump up on the bed which is 4 times her height. She loves him, so of course it was on his side. I can forgive that, but only since he did.

She was a happy camper there and mum on the ride home. Totally chill as if she actually smoked the sheeba. In real life, while she can be mellow, she is simply bat shit crazy. Surprisingly, cars with crazy drivers calm her energy, whether she is in them or observing them. She tries to play with cars zooming by when I walk her. Uber scary, so I keep that b***h on a tight leash. Also, people scare her. Bizarre. On Monday, we slept soundly in my bed.

On Tuesday, there was a snowstorm. Sheba and I made homemade Valentines.

Sheba

On Wednesday, we went for a walk in the park. It was date-night, but since I was babysitting, it was stay-in night. I decided to trim her and dye the hair on her head pink. I crossed my fingers that Mom wouldn’t be mad. S was so miserable having her hair wet for the shampoo and rinse, she moped for the rest of the night while I relaxed with my boyfriend. She still insisted on sleeping in the bed, though.

On Thursday, we ran together. She’s the type to sprint and then stop. This makes leash-running difficultly random. However, the start-stop surprise was a fun change to my paced workout.

On Friday, I went on a long run and left her home for the first time. I came home to the owner of the building (of course he had to randomly visit at my one moment of freedom) wondering what all the yapping was about. Apparently, Sheba doesn’t get tired of barking once someone leaves her; she has severe abandonment issues. I live in a no-pet building. This took some explaining and made me realize she cannot ever be left alone—at least not here. Uggh, but almost over!

On Saturday, waking to yet another blizzard aftermath, I asked my roommate to watch her so I could get a mani/pedi, run to the store, and go to the pantyman (Felix, who does my laundry). Those two hours were the most fabulous break ever. As much as I’d become attached to her and as much as I felt guilty leaving her, I really enjoyed the peace of having some space. I was reminded of  babysitting in college. I took care of a newborn two afternoons a week, and his mother was overjoyed at being able to get away for a few hours to gym and primp.

My mother’s flight from Florida (same Saturday) was postponed due to the snowstorm known as Nemo, but I was lucky enough to have an aunt and uncle willing to take Sheba for the night. I was able to go out to my own birthday party, what a thrill! I dropped her off and that was the last I had to deal with her. Until now.

This Sunday marks the beginning of another week of house lockdown with the pup while my mother skis in Vail. If you want to jet-set, I don’t recommend buying a dependent and rambunctious puppy with sharp teeth that acts like a baby. Save that for when you can fully domesticate, or when you can afford to have someone else do all of the work for you. All babies, whether human or animal, are fun in small doses. They are, in reality, 24/7 work, constantly needing, and that is something highly underestimated with the initial excitement of new life.


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