Another week. This time, a little less nudity and a little more bizarre.

Walking to yoga class.
Troubling: Seeing a stuff tiger perched outside someones window (We'll come back to this...)

I wish it was still cheeky to say, "Hide your kids, hide your wife..." (but that's so 2010)

Finishing up an evening shift. An attractive man approaches.
Troubling: He asks where the Preparation H is located.

Going to the mall
Troubling: Going to the mall.
Troubling #2: Justin Bieber behind a perfume counter.
Troubling #3: People that walk around the mall with their bicycle helmets. Still attached (This isn't Garden State. And you're not a cute, Natalie Portman, pathological liar, pretending to have seizures. Remove the helmets).

Faces blurred because I'm not completely dead on the inside.

A 30-something couple cruising through town in a bright green, top down, Jeep wrangler.
Troubling: Spotting the 3-foot-tall stuffed Shrek sitting in the backseat. Wearing a seat belt.
Troubling #2: No children in the car.

Spotting several stuffed animals placed randomly throughout Madison. Like this one:

Spotting #3

Troubling: The 30 seconds I spent wondering if Madison had a Plushies fetish.

Hot town, it’s summer in the city.

It’s been hot. Like really hot.

When I moved into my apartment almost a year ago, I was told the building didn’t have central air. If you wanted air conditioning you needed a window unit, “Well, it doesn’t get that hot in Wisconsin, I’ll just save the money.” Seriously, nothing makes you feel more alive than an apartment without air conditioning. It’s like your own personal detox spa (without the colon cleansing). If I didn’t get out all the toxins this week, they're staying for the long haul.

Scientific drawling of a toxin {via}

Weather and I have always had a weird relationship (as you can imagine, that pretty much describes every relationship I’ve been apart of since I was eighteen). From attacking my umbrellas to sporadically burning my pastey skin some sunny days but not others, to hiding icy death traps, and my favorite, creating sudden tornado gusts on skirt days, Weather and I could write an article of warning signs for bad relationships. It's like the worst boyfriend you’ve ever had. Kind of like what I would expect dating Richard Simmons would be like.

Say what you will, but that guy's got the gams {via}

In front of people, he'll let you borrow his dolfin shorts and be all fun, dramatic and sweaty, but behind closed doors? He'll choke a bitch. Haven’t you seen the Richard Simmons outtake video? No? Oh alright...


During the end of the fall season this last year, I went out and bought a “northern coat.” It was full of downy feathers and was reviewed as a must have of surviving a Wisconsin winter. As I zipped the coat up and tied the sash, instantly sweating, I smugly thought, “OK winter, do your worst.” About a month later, as I was walking home from school, winter smacked the smugness right off my face with a blizzard.  To say it was horrible would be an understatement. At one point during what seemed like a lifetime journey through winter wonderland hell, I was certain I wasn’t going to make it. About three steps later, I was ready to give up on life.

Made it home with a chunk of ice frozen to my lashes.

Fast forward to about a week ago. I was on the phone with my dad telling him that I thought summer was over in Madison, “The weather keeps getting colder and colder. I guess it’s time for fall!’’ This is the forecast for this week:

Getting warmer...

suffocation

Oh sure, it looks beautiful outside. All sunny and green, until you walk out there. It's like regressing into a sticky four year old, you may not know why you're sticky but that's your new reality (seriously, why are little kids so sticky?).

But really I’m not so egocentric as to think the Mother of all nature is just waiting for my sass and taunts to strike with a storm or excessive heat backlash. The entire Midwest is being affected. It's not my fault.
(Actually that’s exactly what I’m saying. Mother Nature is clearly a firm believer in corporal punishment. From now on I’m going to keep my weather opinions to myself.)

OK, I’m going to put down my stick because that summer weather horse is a goner.

Customer service, so we meet again.

That’s right world. I am employed once again. What does seven years college education get you?
Oh you know, just a customer representative gig at a large corporate retailer (which shall remain nameless). Jealous?

"My name is Amber, and here's how I do. I got nonstop hotness, hardcore learning disabilities, constant horniness, and I'm rockin' one leg... All I want is some medicine for my ringworm, and a cool-ass face tattoo. What-what?!" {SNL}

I hate the saying, “First impressions mean everything,’’ mostly because I like to think of myself as open- minded and non- judgemental. But when it comes to employment, first impressions mean a-hell-of-alot and recently a few things caught my attention.

Let’s get some examples up in here.

During orientation, at the new employment, we watched an educational video on the evils of unionization. While I tend to think using social networking pages to express political views is pointless, and even a little tacky (this is coming from a girl who refuses to use Twitter because it encourages narcissism, but has a facebook page with thirty, carefully edited, photo albums... Might seem just little bit ironic? Oh just shut it, Alanis), let’s get out the puff paint unicorn shirt and get political.

Turn right if you please. {via}

My dad has been an active union man since I can remember. So the first impression of my employer was not so good. As I watched the 20- minute- plus- video on how unions use clever trickery to steal your money and take way workers rights, all I wanted to do was dramatically rip off my badge, kick over a few chairs, and spew some colorful sailor talk as I stormed out. But being an unemployed liberal hero isn’t going to make my bank account any fuller. So I did my best to tune out the propaganda video and turned my attention to the company handbook to find some saving grace.

And I did.

My employer may be owned by misinformed, big business, dingle bats, but they do have high standards: Lycra pants are a dress code violation. Disapproval of lycra? Now that’s a company I can get behind.

Unless you're Bon Jovi {via}

Moving on. My past managers, stemming all the way back to my banquet serving days, seem to be cut from the same piece of bread. The easiest way to explain it: they all look like they spend a great deal of time listening to Barry White and gazing into a bathroom mirror for their daily affirmation.


With customer service jobs, your coworks make a huge difference. I've always been really lucky to get incredibly nice people to work with. But speaking of first impressions, sometimes they stunt coworker friendships.

For example, if a coworker is wearing a black, velcro, digital watch, I always assume they spend their off hours playing Dungeons and Dragons or collecting Samurai swords. While perhaps an unfair character assessment, I feel completely unable to start up a casual conversation without the urge to ask them how many comic book conventions they've attended.
(Yes, this does make me feel like a horrible person. Reformation...tedious business). Not that this makes it any better but I'm not the only one to think this is nerdy Check it Here.

In conclusion, "first impression" is just short hand for, "I'm judging you unfairly... especially if you're wearing lycra pants."

Some things just can't be unseen.

Middle-aged man walking down the sidewalk wearing a wife beater, white shorts and flip flops.
Troubling: He was proudly displaying a black ankle bracelet, of the house arrest variety.
Much like:

Picture found on Hotghettomess.com. A website I wish I didn't know about.

WebMD describes how older people sleep less than their younger counterparts.
Troubling #1: In the last week, I've had two sleepless nights. Not a wink. I've been 25- years- old for less than a month.
Troubling #2: Telling people about this in a blog.


Buying a plant at the farmer's market.
Troubling: The horrified look on the farmer's face after telling him I kill every plant I own.

Going on job interviews.
Troubling: Realizing all the managers bear a striking resemblance to Michael Scott.

hm... {via}

While on a coffee run, seeing a woman in her bathrobe sitting on her front porch.
Troubling: She was sitting spread eagle, and unfortunately, not wearing a stitch.

All of these incidents happened in one week.
Troubling: Realizing it's the same every week of my life.

This summer I’m going to get in the best shape of my life.

Every summer’s the same. Each year around this time I decide I’m going to get into shape and vigorously start working out. It usually lasts until about September and then the school year starts and I get bogged down with coursework and my workout regime goes right out the window.

It’s never been a problem in the past because I’ve never been really overweight and my unhealthy ability to deal with stress has kept me pretty thin (Hooray for stress!). Most months in the year my idea of exercise is driving to Bed Bath and Beyond to sit in their massage chairs.

"The Gym"

Don’t get me wrong I've had my chunkier stages growing up but never really noticeably overweight. But let’s face it, I'm 25 and my metabolism has no where to go but down and I’d prefer my ass to not sag down to my knees by the time I hit thirty.

Now is the time to get serious about working out and stop letting my fervent sweet tooth dictate snack time.

I love you

For the past four weeks I've been trying to run 3-4 times a week. And just recently I started going to a yoga studio. I've always been a little hesitant about trying yoga. In my horribly naive, uninformed mind I thought I would change into "Nature Girl," start a potato farm and stop shaving my armpits.


That's not really the case. It's actually been really good strength training and is kind of calming.

However, in my first class I was positioned by a women whose armpits looked like they had dish scrubbers glued to them. Think:

But besides a bit of armpit hair, the yoga class have been (not to get too weird) enlightening. I'm keeping my fingers crossed on sticking with it.
Check out this lady. She's now in her 90s (the video is a few years old), a yoga instructor and looking awesome!

At the end of this month I will be officially be in my mid twenties and entering the 25-35 age bracket. From now on I will be able to rent a car and make it rain with all the money I’ll save from the lower car insurance. What an exciting time in my life.

The thing is, I’m having a little bit of trouble dealing with the fact I’m turning 25. It’s not that 25 is old or anything but it seems like this is the age when you should know how to navigate through life. Maybe not easily but at least in a “I didn’t get lost driving home from the grocery store” kind of way.

I’ve been spending the last few days searching the internet for some kind of encouraging news or success stories about turning 25. You know, like “The year I turned 25 was the best year of my life! I got an awesome job, a beautiful spouse, an incredible home and David Byrne seems to be writing a song about my life.” 

How did you get a beautiful home and a beautiful wife with that suit jacket?

But all I can find are these articles explaining how more and more 25 year olds are having a quarter life crisis, while others are just trying to keep a grasp on their kegger days. These findings were a little less encouraging and a little more pitiful than what I was expecting.

Actually I wish I wouldn’t have started snooping around on the internet because it didn’t make me feel any better. It just helped make my mental dialogue more colorful: “You're a quarter of a century old!” or “You’re half way to fifty!” The internet always seems to have this negative effect on me. Like all those times I tried to self diagnose with WebMD and thought I had scurvy or tyrotoxism (poisoning by cheese).

probably cancer

Getting older has never bothered me in the past. Well, last years birthday was a little strange. I seemed to have forgotten that I was 23 turning 24 and instead thought I was 22 turning 23. It was all very confusing and I still feel as though someone stole a year of my life. Similar to how I felt during the credits of 2 Fast and 2 Furious.

I've just sucked one year of your life away

But normally I don’t even think about my age and I have several interesting and inspiring older role models that make getting older seem graceful and exciting (The only one that comes to mind at the moment is Auntie Mame. Probably not a good sign). So why is it 25 seems to be bothering me so much? Who knows? I’m sure I’ll deal with on a couch someday but for now I've been self medicating with Queen.

Spring through pictures (and some explanation):

Springtime at the Capital

A sticker on my landlords door

Parking ticket

Terrifying

Arranging

Art on the sidewalk

Art Display: Hide and Go Seek by Christopher Murphy

It glows in the dark

Attacked by a drunk dancer in heels

Antique Store find...

gave me nightmares