getting old

So... it's been a while yeah? Since I posted last a lot has changed. Yet like most change, it doesn't take long for it to feel like nothing has changed. I moved house. Yes, I say things like "moved house" and call pants "trousers" because if I can't have a British accent I might as well speak English. British English of course. 


Anyways, so now instead of living with an older guy I met via craigslist with a cute dog I now live with two younger girls I met via craigslist with a spastic kitten. See what I mean about change and how insubstantial it can be? I will say though that at least my apartment feels lived in and isn't as cold as an icebox. 


As far as my new housemates are concerned, they're both clean and polite - two traits that all housemates should have when inhabiting small spaces with fellow humans. However, they are at that age where it's still acceptable to stay up past midnight and get drunk every weekend. In other words, they're the type of 21 year olds I never was at university. I don't mind though because as I said before - they're polite and clean despite their university behavior. 

I've also decided by now that I just have an old soul - like grandma old. I probably get drunk-drunk maybe once every three months and that's only when I've run out of excuses to get out of drinking with my alcohol ingesting friends. I actually don't mind the being drunk phase, but the post-drunk phase is what always gets me. So because I'm all old and wise and shit I don't do that much because I just don't like it. I should also mention that there are so many other ways to have fun that don't involve a handful of aspirin the next day. For example, pâtisseries. I freaking love playing cards in pâtisseries. Who needs booze when you have fancy French pastries? Seriously. 


 Know what I also love? Cooking lavish meals for myself. The benefits here being that it's impossible to cook a lavish meal for one so I always end up with leftovers and two being that if it tastes shoddy nobody will be disappointed because I'm the only one tasting it. I've also taken up watching old films, dusting and reorganizing my one and only bookcase, drinking tea and discussing reincarnation and alternate universes with friends, needlepoint (which quite frankly I suck at and dislike immensely), playing a dozen different versions of solitaire on my bedroom floor and teasing playing with my housemate's crazy kitten. I've also been drooling over plane tickets and planning trips that I can't actually go on because one, I don't have a lot of money and two, I don't have enough vacation time. In conclusion, I really have become an old lady. No surprise since by the sixth grade I had taken up sewing stuffed animals and reading classic literature. This is just the extended version of that with the addition of paying taxes.


P.S. If you can figure out this month's banner and its connection to my new color scheme you are scientifically awesome. 


P.P.S If you haven't read John Green's new novel The Fault in Our Stars you need to get your ass off the computer right now and do that. It will change your outlook on life. 

the real world, just like that other world you were living in

As a recent college graduate and newly employed, well, employee I have spent most of my life around students. Up until a few months ago I didn't have to deal with the complications that come with having a full-time job. Here are some things I have discovered about the "real world" which is just a scary way of saying the world that's been there all along you just haven't noticed from your school bubble. 

Overtime: When you have to work more than 40 hours a week. Apparently your boss actually wants to pay you when you stay late, even if you are so dedicated that you would stay for free. Something about it being the law. 

Coworkers: Those people you have to work with, or at least around. Some of them will be awesome, people who you will bond with immediately. While some will be complete assholes and take off early the day before Thanksgiving leaving you with two hours of work that isn't even your work but you will be forced to complete qualifying you for, you guessed it, overtime. 

401K Plan: Some companies do this really awesome thing where they reward you for setting some of your income aside for retirement by matching some percentage or amount to what you save. It will involve a lot of paperwork and financial lingo but just remember, if you don't start saving up for this you'll have to work until you die. 

Financial Advisor: If you're lucky your company will hire one of these to help you weed through all that paperwork and make complicated decisions on matters you know nothing about. Use them, you aren't paying for their services so take advantage. 

Heath Insurance: This amazing thing that let's you pay very little for expensive medical services. If you're offered it, take it. 

Taxes: Suck. You will likely lose one-fourth of your income to these. Don't be shocked when you get your first paycheck and realize just how much you aren't making because you had to pay for education and whatnot. See, even if you graduate college loan free, you're still paying for school.

Credit: This guy is only a number, but he's pretty much the single most important thing you can have. Don't fuck up and go bankrupt or refuse to pay your bills because you need this for any thing big you plan to rent or buy, like say a place to live. 

Okay so maybe a lot of this is self-explanatory, but on paper it's much more complicated. Just ask the ten million papers I have needed to fill out or file away during the 75 days I've been employed. 

how to avoid creepy housemates (via craigslist)

The following examples are real. Even better, they're exact quotes.


1. If their first response to your ad asks to see a photo 
Example: Do u have pics? I wanna know if ur hot.

2. If they are way too eager to become housemates after the first email and don't give you the option of agreeing to it first, even though it was your ad 
Example: Yes, I want to be your housemate. By the way, if we could get this in writing I'd appreciate it.

3. If they look like Aunt Spiker from James and the Giant Peach and ask weird questions during your visit (showing you their creepy basement and a bedroom the size of a closet is also a red flag) 
Example: Have you ever been a follower? Are you interested in staying here for several years?

4. If they appear to be in need of a wife or baby sitter and not a housemate 
Example: I'm really looking for a mature female who's kid friendly.

5. If they have no sense of morals
Example: I was seeing my gf and my bitch wife found out and kicked me out.

6. If there is a possibility they may be psychotic 
Example: I need a room to stay as my wife and I are going through a temporary separation while I go to counseling for about a year.


7. They put their religion at the top of their list of priorities 
Example: I can only live with Christians... are you Christian?

8. They can't spell, use proper syntax or utilize the great thing we call punctuation 
Example: i saw ur ad and ned a roommate do u have a room 4 rent i want 2 be ur roommate

9. If they blatantly ignore one of the requirements in the ad and don't seem to understand that there's a reason you wrote what you did 
Example: I know you aren't 420 friendly, but I can smoke outside. I smoke cigs too when I drink so I hope that's not a problem either even though you don't smoke.


10. They don't exist on facebook (or anywhere on the internet) 
Why this matters: Come on who doesn't have a facebook these days? Or some sort of interweb path verifying their identity? Hermits are dangerous creatures, all that lack of socializing.

because it's been a month

I haven't posted in about a month which means I'm long overdue for a post. Sounds about right, when am I not overdue for a post? Not to mention a new banner.  The banner is going to have to be put on hold for a while seeing as I no longer have PowerPoint on my new iMac. Well, it's not really "new" anymore, but it's still pretty bomb diggity. Do people even say that anymore? It just sort of popped out of my head. Anyways, so while the new iMac is awesome and amazing, I'm still in the process of going from Tiger to Lion which is sort of like giving a 100 year old woman a facelift and expecting every wrinkle to go away. Was that even a good analogy? Anyways, so no PowerPoint and iWork Keynote is not very Auto Shape friendly so until I figure shit out, no changes on the banner front. I'm posting though so there's something. Okaaaay... moving on.

So what's up with me? Well I still have my job. I was convinced they'd fire me the first week but it turns out I am better at than I think. Hard to believe, but hey, they want to keep paying me I won't complain. Somedays are better than others though, I will admit that. I think right now the biggest thing I'm struggling with is how often I fuck things up. That and the stress levels I've been tossed into. Let's just say the learning curve is steep and the time in which I need to learn things is longer than the curve allows. Insert photo of the situation (click to enlarge)  - I'm at the dotted line which means I have about 10 weeks left to learn everything I need to know before my supervisor goes on maternity leave. This is scary for two reasons. One, she won't be there to catch my fuck-ups. Two, I was told that the next thing I'm learning takes a year to master and I have roughly two months. To put it lightly, I'm shit-scared for next week.

I'm also moving in December. Where I'm moving I haven't figured out yet, but my lease is up so I'm essentially being evicted. In all fairness I knew it was coming, I just expected my housing choices to be a little more plentiful. I forgot in these last few months what a pain in the ass it is to look for a place to live. For some reason I thought living the the same city I'm looking would make things easier. Turns out that even living in Portland won't guarantee people respond to your emails and phone calls and in the four inquiries I've sent out only one has responded. Of course then you have the people that do respond and they turn out to be pot heads. "420 Friendly" is not the type of person I want to be living with, I don't trust stoners. Call it a stereotype, but the few possessions I own are nice and I don't want anyone with a joint to have access to them. So yeah, still looking. Hoping I find somewhere in the next couple weeks or I might have to get creative. Or shell out more money than I would like for a place. Have I mentioned how much I hate relocating residences?

There we go, an update on my life. I wish it were witty, maybe I'll post a tale of my drunken adventure involving the public worship of some internet superstar who goes by Moot in a couple days. I don't recall the complete events of the that night, but they definitely involved two of my favorite things - vodka and video games - and one of the least favorite things - vomit. I know, you're dying to hear the story now. That's what we call a cliffhanger.

caps locked grandma

You know an easy way to tell if an email is from your grandmother without even looking at the sender? The entire email is in caps lock. I don't know if that's because she's going blind or is just computer illiterate. I will say that it makes all her emails look like they're urgent when in reality they're full of pointless anecdotes. For example apparently she's visiting my uncle. End anecdote. She's been cooking here and there for company. End anecdote. It's like reading one hundred one sentence anecdotes that don't even tie into one another. This must be why my mind often feels schizophrenic.

In other news that is over a week old, I have a job now. If you didn't just jump up in your chair while applauding you are probably not someone I will be sending a Christmas card to. I make pretty bomb cards too. If you just started clapping to get in on the card action you should know that I don't believe in do-overs. Anyways, back to the job. It's fantastic. You know you have a fantastic job when you feel completely incompetent the entire first week. That means there's lots of room for personal and professional growth. Which means lots of training. More training equals better salaries. See where I'm going with this? You think I'm joking but I am completely serious. It's been exactly a week since I started and the difference in what I know is astounding. My very first day they barely trusted me with a pipettor let alone a bottle of acid and I had to wear a lab coat the entire time. Today I went unsupervised carrying several bottles of acid sans lab coat and nobody said a word. I also knew what I was doing 80% of the time which is huge.

I should probably explain what the job is before I get too carried away. I'm working for an analytical company. For those non-science people analytical is just a fancy way of saying a form of chemistry that involves analyzing shit. Shit being anything you could possibly think of - including actual fecal specimens. I don't do that part though. I'm working for the metals department so I am essentially taking dirt or water and determining the concentrations of metal ions. Metal ions being things like mercury, lead, cadmium, vanadium, etc, etc. Pretty much the majority of the elements on the periodic table. So you may ask why this is important, well think environment. Think waste management. Think remediation. We get samples mostly from environmental consulting companies along with some engineering places or city departments. Pretty much anyone who needs to know how much "whatever" is in some bit of material. Depending on who you are you may find this incredibly fascinating or completely boring. I find it very fascinating. Which I guess is good since it's what I now do for a living. So yeah, that's pretty much a rough outline of my work. Of course it involves a lot more than that since there are instruments and proper protocols that have to be followed to a tee making life challenging, but like I said, I won't bore you.

So what else is new? Well not much. Work is now consuming my day and nights since I find myself doing research after work to be better at work. It's a vicious cycle. I'm still playing board games and HBGG has stopped attending which makes my life less awkward. I must have scared him away. I'm not too phased though, he was definitely an odd one. Other than that I spend my free time bumming out by watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory or The Office. It's all very scintillating stuff. It feels so good to actually have "work time" and "free time" again. I really do enjoy it when my weekends have meaning and aren't just like every other day.

well, that's awkward

Willy eats feminine hygiene products. I had no idea this was occurring until my housemate was forced to awkwardly approach me one day and inform me that Willy was passing "girly stuff" for fear that he would die from his unhealthy eating habits. I felt really bad for Wade for having to bring up such an awkward topic. I honestly had no idea this was going on - I don't know how Willy was even managing to get access to these things.

See, I try to be one of those courteous female housemates who carefully wraps up and double bags all remnants of having to endure feminine torture on a monthly basis because well, I live with a male housemate who takes out the trash and shouldn't have to deal with what he calls "girly stuff." I even went as far as to place each carefully wrapped bag in a separate trash can in my closet so it was entirely my responsibility as it should be. Without my knowledge, what I appeared to be leaving were carefully wrapped presents for Willy to somehow dig out and ingest. Yeah, gross, but he's a dog so you know, they do things like this. Not to mention Willy is so good at being cute that he could probably get away with murder. Something I'm sure he's well aware with since he's decided to take up residence on my bed and use my legs as a headrest. Oh it's a good thing you're cute Wills.

sigh, mothers

My mother: Do you sleep with the window open?

Me: It's summer, of course.

Mother: Maybe you shouldn't in case someone breaks in.

Me: Not going to happen, it's been in the high 80s with 45% humidity.

Mother: I want you to be safe, don't you have a fan.

Me: Yes, a window fan. That requires the window to be open.

Mother: Well maybe you should just keep the window shut.

Me: What so I can melt in my sleep?

Mother: Well do you have pepper spray?

Me: I don't think I want to answer this, you'd only worry.

Mother: Well go to a gun shop and get some.

Me: Okay, I'll do that next time I find myself wandering around in a gun shop.

Mother: Do it before Wade (the housemate) goes out of town.

Me: I don't even know if Portland has gun shops, it seems so anti-Portland.

Mother: Well find one. And buy a good brand.

Me: Only if you foot the bill, my bank account is not endorsing this ridiculous idea.

Mother: Fine, make sure you keep it by your bed.

Me: Yes mother, I'll put it right next to my baseball bat.

Mother: This isn't a joke.

Me: Oh no, I take the idea of someone disrupting my sleep to steal my decrepit macbook very seriously.

Mother: Okay, well then goodnight. Be safe.

Me: (sliding the window open) Mhm, of course.

Mother: What was that noise?

Me: Either someone is trying to break in or I just opened the window.

Mother: Chelsea....

Me: Night mom.

I know I live in a big(er) city now, but really?

death +1, life -1

My internet was down for a couple days because of a douchebag neighbor who decided to try and steal my internet which in return knocked out the internet. Idiot. I'd egg his car except he has equal access to my own vehicle and I don't feel like starting some sort of sabotage war. Hypothetically though I'd win because I'm more clever and he has rocks for brains. Anyways, in the time that I was without internet it appears that life, maybe death is a more appropriate word, has decided to come steal candy from little children after punching them in the face. In other words, a shit storm of really unfortunate things has happened, things I just found out about yesterday when my internet was fixed.

Thing one, a kid I went to high school with was killed by a drunk driver in a head on collision. I didn't know the kid that well, but I do wonder if there is some sort of protocol about writing nice things on his facebook wall. Did that sound insensitive? I really didn't mean for it to sound that blunt, but honestly, is that the protocol these days when people die? I've noticed it before and I just have to wonder, what the fuck is the world coming to? Are we really at a point in life where instead of calling up the family and offering up your sympathies, instead you write on his wall? I've never handled death particularly well, and by that I mean I've never gotten utterly hung up on people's deaths like some people, say my mother. I do have to wonder about the whole facebook memorial posts though. It's like the opposite of a facebook birthday post and we all know how I feel about those. I think I'm starting to sound like a prick now though so I'll stop and spend the next minute in silence in honor of his death.

Thing two, my neighbor back in Flagstaff who is the sweetest lady with the nicest husband and cutest animals who I used to pet sit for is in a coma. I was definitely saddened by this news. Apparently she was out to dinner with her husband and got up to go to the bathroom. When she didn't come back he had someone go check on her and they found her unconscious. Now she's in a coma and the doctors are trying to figure out what happened. From my limited physiology knowledge my bet is a stroke, but I still find the news incredibly sad. I hate when bad things happen to healthy people and this weekend seemed a little too full of bad things happening to healthy people for my liking.

Other than that, my life just feels like one small unfortunate event after another. Nothing that bad has happened, but the small things are getting me down a little. I'm networking with more people than I can keep track of and none of them have turned up any jobs which makes me feel like I'm wasting my time. Except I know I'm not wasting my time since applying to positions online would be an even bigger waste of time and that's what I would be doing instead. At least my business card collection is thriving and I’ve decided that when I do get hired (yes, I did say when, I’m trying to be an optimist) that I will make a massive collage out of all the cards and put the winning one in the center. Surrounded by gold stars and glitter. With flashing lights. I have started applying to positions working in clerical work which just depresses me even more. Not that I've been hired yet, but the thought of using my science degree to file makes me want to shoot my brains out.

Now before I start to sound too whiny, let me just say that things are shitty for everyone. Having networked and smoozed with not only people in my field, but just talking to people looking for work, things suck everywhere. Companies are downsizing, jobs that didn't use to require prior experience are asking for 5+ years (baristas, nannies, etc) and the unemployed are staying unemployed because companies refuse to hire them. I went to a potluck yesterday where I met some really nice girls and we all commiserated over the economy and how hard the job market is and despite it sounding depressing, it was a little reassuring to know I wasn't the only one. Here I've been thinking something was tragically wrong with me, turns out it's not me that's tragic but the whole nation. What a relief to know how much life is sucking all around.

HBGG is like a finger monkey

I've been a little under the weather all week, well more than just a little with some sort of weird flu/migraine hybrid taking over my immune system.

I'm pretty sure I got at least the flu part from horny board game guy. Yeah that's right, I gave him a nickname. HBGG for short, sounds like some sort of disease which I think is perfect, the new H1N1 right? I learned in Microbiology that if you are able to track when you first feel sick back to 48 hours that you can determine where you picked up your sickness. Well I started feeling sick on Wednesday night during board games (more on that later) and yup, 48 hours before I was having my mouth invaded by HBGG. Culprit found. Thus ensued one of the most miserable illnesses I've had to date. Of course part of what made it so miserable was the fact that Urgent Care here refuses to prescribe anything. In Arizona I could walk in, say I was suffering from a major headache, and walk out twenty minutes later with a prescription for Vicodin. Instead, this is how my twenty minute visit went.

Me: I have one of the worst headaches I've had to date, it feels like a finger monkey has burrowed between my kidney and my rib cage, I'm running a 102 fever, and this morning I didn't move for two hours after waking because I thought I was going throw up from all the pain I was in.

Urgent Care Lady: You must have a stomach bug, that's been going around.

Me: No, I don't think that's it. The nausea is more because my head is in so much pain. Nothing I take has worked.

Urgent Care: You should take extra strength tylenol and stay in bed, just let it pass.

Me: Tylenol doesn't work on me, never has, even when I was a kid. I don't complain of pain often, I need something stronger.

Urgent Care: The stomach bug should pass, I recommend the BRAT diet for now. Okay, feel better, bye now! (She says as she prints off handouts from WebMD, seriously!? WebMD of all places?? This is a licensed professional here and she's feeding me advice from a website and telling me to take something I've told her is ineffective. I hate you Oregon medical care).

So that's how I spent my Thursday morning. I then ignored her advice and instead purchased a potato which I sliced up and laid across my forehead. No I'm not shitting you that's what I really did and yes it really does work. Holistic healing methods for the win. Thank you mother for raising me in a world where I don't have to rely on incompetent fools to diagnose my medical problems. Anyways, so I still have a few after effects of my illness, mainly a slightly throbbing head, but I'm feeling much better no thanks to the idiots that work at Urgent Care.

Now onto HBGG updates. Wednesday was really awkward. Me feeling like crap didn't help the situation much. I should mention that I never did send him an email telling him I never wanted to see him outside of board game night ever again. I decided to wing it, of course this was before I felt like shit so in my head it was supposed to go something like this.

Me: Hey, so I've decided maybe we shouldn't see each other outside of board game night, it's just really awkward for me.

HBGG: Okay, I understand. 

THE END

Oh perfect world, how I wish you were real. Instead it went something like this. I got to game night before he did so I promptly joined in on a game so I wouldn't have to play a game with him. He arrived and did that awkward lingering thing that people do when they want to talk to someone but never actually say anything. I ignored him, even when he did touch my sunglasses and try to flirt with me. He gave up and joined another table. I ended my game and was beginning to suffer from the "I feel like I'm going to vomit" phase of my illness so I took my leave as quickly as possible and only offered him and awkward wave.

He then sent me an email telling me I should have asked him not to come to Wednesday night if it was going to be so uncomfortable for him. He implied I made up my illness like some sissy girl. I sent him an email back explaining the depth of my illness and threw in a bit about not being that into him and suggesting we no longer see other socially. He accepted but blamed me for thinking too much. I took offense and told him that's what people with science degrees do, we think. (Yes, that was uncalled for, but seeing as he's got no life plan I feel it was deserving). He wrote back saying that it was too bad we couldn't hang out anymore. I didn't reply as that would continue a line of email conversations which I didn't particularly feel like having as they would suggest I was still into his personality. That my friends is the actual THE END. Yes, The Jets had me in mind when they wrote the song. By the way, this is my 500th post. Go me. 

cat lady is back

Warning: This post is not only long, but contains things you are better left not knowing - things I wish I could somehow un-know. I can't believe I'm posting this.

First dates are always awkward, and considering that I am no dating guru, hell I rarely even date, it's no shocker that I find them awkward. However, I went into my first date thinking - I've rarely dated, it should be totally fine. Yes, naive little me went in with the mindset that inexperience would shield me from horrible events occurring. So I mentioned that this guy goes to my board game meetup, what I didn't quite mention that up until he asked me out, I really didn't know much about him. I certainly didn't admire him for his life choices of not having a plan, I always have a plan and yes, I'm unemployed now, but at least my plan got me a degree and some motivation. Except it was one date so I decided plans aside, maybe there would be something else there. Except, I was also not attracted to him on a physical level either.

I'm not saying I'm super picky, but there are certain things that attract me - somewhat geeky boys with dark curly hair (ahem, I'm talking to you Darren Criss) are totally my thing. When I was in middle school it was Seth Cohen (OC anyone?). I went to terrible Adam Brody flicks just to see him, yes, I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I've decided to be completely candid in this post because I want my readers to never feel bad about themselves. Trust me, it's about to get a lot more awkward on so many levels, levels without clothes. Oh wait, so where was I? Physical attraction, definitely lacking. I'm not saying he's repulsive to look at or anything, but I connected with him on more of a "hey, let's be friends" level.

I am all about giving people first chances though, and I told him this outright. Okay, so he offers to come over and cook for me. Totally cool, I love a guy that can cook - turn on. Except what turned out to be his idea of cooking was tossing a salad together. I'm sorry, but in my definition chopping up a few veggies and sticking them in a bowl is not cooking. I can whip up a pretty mean salad in my sleep, I don't consider anything I can accomplish while half conscious an impressive feat. Then he suggests we go to a redbox and get a movie, yeah okay, movies are fine. So we head to my nearest Fred Meyer (oh look, a motif) and rent Burlesque partly because I was getting bored scrolling through the titles and because my mom liked it and recommended it to me. A little while later I am awkwardly perched on my bed with an almost stranger next to me watching a movie on my laptop because the living room couches are full of dog hair and would have made me feel even more awkward.

I can tell he want to be closer and cuddle, I'm boy stupid but not that stupid. I guess he got tired of me acting like a board because he outright said, "Is it okay if we cuddle." Any chemistry that had the potential to exist just vanished completely. I'm sorry, but if it feels unnatural to cuddle with a guy that's because it probably is. If you have to bluntly ask, it's probably not the right time. Except I've been single for a LOOOONG time and pair that with me being away from home and slightly homesick, I tell him yes. Have I made my readers cringe yet? Yeah, I'm cringing too and this is me and my stupid actions we're dissecting. So we're about half way through the movie and the entire time he's been getting closer, and closer, and closer. The theme music to Jaws would have fit in perfectly. He starts kissing my hair and I know he wants to kiss me because he does that really awkward thing where he tries to get closer and tilt your head except every time he did that my neck went nimrod straight and it would have taken a lot more than a few nudges to move it. But I'm awkward, so I keep on resisting.

Finally he gets his moment in and I don't even know how the hell it's happened but suddenly we're kissing. I don't claim to be a good kisser by any means as my kissing experiences are few and far between, but I have never felt so incredibly turned off by the amount of saliva one possesses in one's mouth. I swear to you it was slimy and wet and I would probably be more attracted to a Saint Bernard because at least they're cute. I'm thinking to myself that I must just be out of practice, maybe it will get bett- oh gross, he went straight for tongue which is not only slimy and wet but warm. I'm not really a french kissing kind of girl and while I've been kissed with tongue before, I don't remember it ever being that awful. Except for some reason my body won't stop because I'm still awkward, I'm still lonely, and I'm still the same girl who has been single for way to long.

So we're kissing and now nearly horizonal on my bed - the same bed with the same duvet that my mommy sewed for me, but this isn't registering, what's registering is how horrible his kisses feel and how incredibly turned off I am by everything he is doing. The caresses don't felt romantic, the trying to get up my shirt feels like a huge invasion of privacy, but somewhere in my stupid brain I'm thinking maybe somewhere the chemistry will suddenly appear and I'll become attracted to him. I can tell he's getting turned on, not to mention leaving hickeys on my neck that I now have to try and hide for my professional meetings this week, and before you know it I'm in my underwear and he's completely naked. I'm not only letting a stranger see me in my birthday suit, but I'm letting him get to know my body all too well for a guy I just met. Are you cringing yet? Are you judging me yet? Because I sure as hell am. Have I made you feel sufficiently awkward? I can't believe I'm about to post this.

Then it finally registers in my stupid little brain - "Chelsea, what the fuck are you doing? You're almost naked, you have some guy who you only just met for a first date pretty close to getting his rocks off on your handmade duvet, you're a virgin without a strip of protection, and you aren't even attracted to this guy. STOP RIGHT NOW YOUNG LADY." Yes, I imagined my mother's voice and yes I blame the duvet. Except I can't blame it because at that moment I was so incredibly thankful. He seemed to sense my sudden "Oh fuckity fuck what the fuck am I doing?" moment because right then he offered me Plan A - we walk to Fred Meyer and pick up some condoms, Plan B - he does the pull out method (which is 0% effective by the way) or C - He goes to the bathroom to masturbate while I have the option of watching. Right then I know - any guy who suggests the "pull out" method is definitely not the guy for me, even when he does swear "I've got a lot of control." You ever seen that condom commercial with the screaming kid? Yeah, I'm sure his dad said the same thing. Yeah take sex ed buddy, not in this vagina. Masturbation Plan aside, I'm completely positive that I am keeping my virginity intact.

As calmly and collected as possible I ask what time it is and count my blessings when it's past five and he had somewhere else to be. So we dress and we made our leave - it's then I realize my roommate has been home the whole time, but I'm so relieved with the end of the date that I don't much care at that point how much he heard. I drive him to where he needs to be, we share one sloppy, slimy kiss in the car which I pull away from earlier than he wanted, and I wave goodbye swearing to him that I'll see him again while simultaneously swearing to myself that he will not be allowed in my room ever again. Looking back I'm convinced sex is what he wanted from me. Lack of condom aside. No guy has told me I'm that beautiful so many times and praised me for how unique and special I am. No guy has moved that quickly without having secret motives.

So how can I possibly explain what happened on this date even when somewhere in my brain I still registered what was happening? My brain was somehow abducted by aliens and my randy teenage moment came eight years too late. Or something. This my friends is what happens when you literally have no self confidence and some guy comes and tries to sweep you off your feet, you know it's too good to be true, but sometime after the countless chick lit books you think it's possible. Now I can't get his smell past my nose and I can't stop shaking and stopping my eyes from tearing up. How the fuck did I become that girl? You know, the easy girl who almost has sex on date number one? I am such a cool, calculating human being and at one point I'd even go to say that I was smart, but now I just feel stupid. Now I have to send a really awkward email telling him that I'm just not ready and that I think we shouldn't see each other "socially" anymore. What's worse is that I have to see him Wednesday after this email is sent and pretend that he hasn't seen me naked.

There it is, one date and I'm convinced I want to be a cat lady. Or maybe a lesbian. I can't decide which seems worse at the moment - not that I have anything against gays, I just can't imagine a girl feeling me up. You might be wondering why I decided to share this story with you. Well, most of all I want you to learn from my mistakes and to not feel bad about any stupid things you've done in your life. Hell who am I kidding, I want you to write about something even more awkward that you've done just to make me feel better. I took quite the hiatus from blogging and haven't felt truly inspired lately, but today my love for blogging returned in full force  - because after today the only people I felt comfortable sharing this experience with are my readers. I'm sorry I treat you so crappy and haven't been reading about your lives, I promise to try harder. If you read this whole thing, thank you and if you didn't, well perhaps it's best if you just read the last several sentences. I hope I didn't scare you away.

guess who has a date?

In case you didn't catch it from the title - I HAVE A DATE! Four years of college and not one guy asked me out and less than two months in Portland and I've been asked out already. Amazing how the world works. All through college I was surrounded by people who were actively dating/hooking up/crushing/etc and not being one of those people I somehow became convinced that there was something wrong with me. Was I too awkward in person? Too fat? Too ugly? Too nerdy? Too plain? Too boring? It did a number on my self confidence to feel like the only person in the world who was single and had been single forever.

Have I mentioned that I've only had one "real" boyfriend in my entire life? My fling in preschool with a boy named Corey doesn't count, otherwise I'd be all the way up to two amazing "real" boyfriends. I also use the term "real" because those of you who've been reading about my life since I began blogging know a little bit about my long-distance-didn't actually meet in real life-thing with Matt. I know that I loved Matt, but the fact that we never had any physical contact whatsoever makes it a little awkward to call him my boyfriend, hell it's awkward enough to admit that I fell hard for him.

So that mess aside, I have a date. With one of the guys I play games with every Wednesday night. I'm not sure if I should be frightened by this fact or ecstatic since he's seen me completely uncensored and in gym clothes and yet still found something attractive about me. He is a tad older than me, but certainly not enough to give me gold-digger status or anything. Still within my own decade. Did I mention that he told me he misses me already since we last saw each other Wednesday? Um, swoon.

The only thing I'm truly worried about is how awkward board game night might become should we not connect for whatever reason. I'm hoping since we're both pretty relaxed and fairly outgoing people that things would be fine no matter what - but you never know with these things. Anyways, I'm being a total girl, but can you really blame me? For the first time in my life there is some hope I won't become a cat lady. Even if it does only last one date.

a tranny and a mathematician walk into a...

I love the people I play board games with once a week. Mostly because they are the perfect embodiment of what Portland is about. The campaign "Keep Portland Weird" comes to mind.

Let's take an outsider's view to the group. Let's say you walk in to your closest Fred Meyer (grocery store) for your typical day of errands and saw this group playing board games, you would likely stop and stare for two reasons. The first would probably be on the grounds that not only are there people playing board games in the dining area of a grocery store, but they are the strangest group of people you've ever seen in one place at one time. The second thing that would halt you in your tracks would likely be that not only do the people all look completely different, despite their many differences they are having fun. A lot of fun - fun with yelling, laughing, and giving off a sense of complete comradeship. Except you're in Portland, so perhaps you wouldn't stop and stare because weird things happen all the time here.

So perhaps it's no surprise that on Wednesday night at any given time I can be found playing board games with a tranny named Becky who has more cleavage than I will ever have, a mathematician recovering from an alcohol addiction, a zealous dude who's hitchhiked across the country, a conservative banker, an overweight DDR champion, or numerous other individuals even more normal or zany than the rest. We are the unemployed, the employed, the stoned, the sober and the "weird" that help make Portland so amazing.

The greatest thing about this city and the thing that I love the most is that nothing is too wacky or too out there and you can literally be as weird as you want and nobody will stop to stare at you. You want to paint your body pink and run through downtown? Go for it. In fact people will probably assume you're doing it for some sort of breast cancer campaign and may even throw a few dollars your way. You want to sit on a street corner and play the national anthem on a kazoo? Be prepared to compete with the guy on the other corner with the same act. This city is the perfect blend of books, food, music, art and people. Like a voodoo doughnut - there's something for everyone.

new people

I recently, and by "recently" I mean spontaneously due to utter loneliness and boredom, joined a website called "Meetup.com." I know, it sounds like some sort of creepy eHarmony knock-off but before you stereotype me as some sort of desperate single, hold your jets and let me explain. Essentially it's a way for people in the same city to find other people with similar interests and get together and do said interest together (totally platonically and without romantic pretense). I know it sounds corny, and yes somewhat desperate, but I'm telling you, this place is a lifesaver for someone who just moved to a big city without knowing anyone and just needs some people to do things with. Oh hey, I'm someone who just moved to a new city, sounds perfect!

It's also super fun. Well okay, the one meetup event I've attended was super fun so I'm a little biased, but it was awesome. I went to a board game meetup (nerd alert) and played some crazy intense (not that crazy or intense, I'm just out of practice) strategy eurogame called Puerto Rico. I still don't know what classifies a board game as a "eurogame" since apparently my vast knowledge of family and party board games makes me a novice, but I'm willing to learn more. I also met a few pretty nice people and experienced some lovely commradery for being a newbie. I may even go again, no I will definitely go again next week because I'm a loser who has nothing better going on Wednesday nights.

I've also joined a couple of other meetup groups, one of which is a book club (double nerd alert). In my defense this book club is going to the Oregon Brewfest in a couple of weeks and they hold all of their meetings at a public brew house. Did I mention they're all women (because men don't read)? How completely awesome is that? A women's book club that sits around discussing literature while drinking beer.  I'm super excited and still have about three weeks until I even meet them. Speaking of books and being a nerd, I am also the proud new owner of a Multnomah county (aka East Portland) library card.  I don't think I've had a new library card since high school and there's just something about the shiny new piece of plastic that hasn't been scratched up and bent yet that makes me giddy. Or perhaps it's also the fact that I now have unlimited access to even more books. The only downside is that the libraries here charge late fees and coming from a girl who was spoiled by no late fees and always returned books weeks late, this may take some getting used to. They aren't exactly pennies either, I'm talking quarters by the day.

Other than that, nothing much new is going on here. I'm still jobless and spending money much faster than I make it, but I've decided as a 22 year old who has been frugal and responsible her whole life (seriously, I still have birthday money from ages five to sixteen in my savings account) that I'm allowed to live a little bit. Perhaps it was a good thing I didn't spend my money on frivolous childhood toys since I can now spend it on lovely adult outings and adventures, I was one smart kid!

smart dog

My roommates dog, whose name is Willy (something I should have mentioned in the last post) has outsmarted me. It's not everyday the college graduate feels inferior to a dog that hasn't even been to obedience school so I felt like a post was needed to record the event. So how did a species that lacks opposable thumbs outsmart a species with a pair? He locked me in my own bedroom.

Yes, you read that statement correctly, I was locked in my own room by a dog. No dog is not a metaphor, no this dog is not some crazy talented seeing eye dog trained to do these sorts of things, no the dog is not part robot and no to whatever other crazy explanation you can come up with to justify this experience. Also no to any questions regarding me being inebriated or crazy. Or delusional.

I woke up this morning to Willy's frantic attempts to get into my room. This happens occasionally after my roommate has left for work and he needs out. That is, Willy not my roommate. I rolled out of bed (quite literally since I'm still bed frameless) and crawled my way to my bedroom door only to realize it was locked. Now I think it's important here to mention that my bedroom door locks from the outside of the room. I have no idea why the door knobs were installed that way, the logic behind Portland construction is not something I've looked into yet. I tried the handle again thinking maybe I just didn't turn it hard enough - no, it was definitely locked. I pondered the likelihood that I was still dreaming, but decided that due to the lack of orange juice cartons, dancing candy bars or hitchhiking dogs I was in fact awake. Not to mention in my dreams the sensation of a cold door handle is never actually felt. Things just aren't that realistic in Chelsea Dreamland. I'm getting off topic.

My best guess at what happened to put me in this situation is that in Willy's enthusiastic attempts to enter aka lots of jumping and pawing at the door knob, he must have turned the knob the wrong direction and locked it into place instead of opening it. Apparently in Portland the fourth is an excuse to light off fireworks all week. I really do mean all week. I've been hearing pops and bangs since freaking Friday. At first each sudden burst of ruckus reminded me of guns going off and I was quite paranoid and jumpy, now it's at the point of being stupid. Have I mentioned these occur at all hours of the day and night?

Given nothing here burns apparently this is acceptable holiday behavior and apparently Willy doesn't like fireworks. As noticed by his frantic whining and locking of rooms with people inside them. Being the intelligent homo sapien that I am and grateful I was locked in my bedroom where I have an endless supply of potential escape tools, I fashioned a bobby pin (yeah, I'm a regular MacGyver) into a key aka unbent it so I could stick it in the keyhole, push the pin and make my escape. The entire time being whined at by Willy who was on the other side apparently unaware of what he had done and thought I was playing a cruel game with him instead. No puppy, the trick is on me.

So that's how I spent five minutes of my morning the day after America gained its independence - gaining independence from my own room. See what I did there? Although I am glad to see that I still work well under stress and half conscious. On another note not related to dogs, dreaming or fireworks, I took a hike near Mount Hood last Friday. Apparently it has snow year round, um, you're crazy northwest! I hiked to Mirror Lake... I'm sure you can guess how it got that name by the photo.

my very humble abode (plus dog)

My mother asked for photos of my room and I figured I would spread them around the interwebs as well. Why not? So what does a college graduate's room look like? Unfortunately it looks a lot like a dorm room but with cleaner carpet and mismatched furniture. And in college at least I had a bed frame and an actual drawer for my winter socks. I have upgraded to a full size mattress though. Oh yeah, I'm living large.

Yes, the dog is allowed on the bed. Only on the blue blanket though. Some training to get said dog to stay on the blanket and not cuddle up with my pillows was involved.

Sadly these were the only books I had room to pack. The other ten boxes are still stored in my old closet at my parent's house. Yes, ten. The only piece of furniture that I personally owned in Flagstaff, a beautiful blue leather reading chair, was also left behind.

old friends

Upon moving to Portland, I immediately reconnected with a friend who went to high school with me. I thought it would be a little awkward reconnecting with someone who I hadn't seen in three years, but so far it's been really nice having someone to hang out with. On Friday we met up to wander around downtown Portland and he was nice enough to not only show me around but give me tips spanning from the proper pronunciation of streets/rivers/you-name-it to how to (more) easily tell direction in a city without peaks. It helped that for once the weather was absolutely gorgeous and according to many Portlanders, or at least the broadcasters on the radio, yesterday's weather is what typical June is like. That is until a weekend of rain and cloudy skies, but what can you do? I don't find it that horrible, but I also have been living in sunny Arizona so I'm not as deprived of my Vitamin D.

Back to yesterday. We ended up doing quite a bit of walking since he and I both had no idea what exactly there is to do downtown. When I did a little pre-online research about downtown Portland eating out at restaurants seemed to be the only thing suggested and neither my stomach nor my budget could do that all day so walking became the activity instead. I'm not sure where we walked downtown and even though my awesome tour guide/friend did a great job of pointing out streets, I'm just not good at remembering all the details. I'm more of a walk until I either get lost or find my destination type of person so street names never really stick in my brain. He did help me with the basics though so I'd call that a small victory.

After both of our feet were sore beyond their measure, we went to the river and just sort of watched it for a while. I miss being by a river. In Germany I think I took advantage of the lazy feeling that accompanies people watching by the river and it was nice to do that again. Not to mention, there are definitely some worthy specimens in Portland for people watching. We then hopped on a streetcar (which are free downtown, how awesome is that?) and took it to Powell's book store. I have just one word to describe Powell's: wow. I have never seen so many rooms full of so many different types of books. It's more like a library and I do love myself a good library. Except then I reminded myself that should I wish I could actually purchase that book on 1000 types of curries or a feminists view of the world. In fact they have subjects that I didn't even know where considered subjects. Metaphysics? It's a subject. Military? Also a subject. In fact they have at least a bookcase dedicated to the most off beat subjects.

Once we grew weary of our wandering (say that five times fast) we headed back to where he was parked and he drove me all the way to Vancouver, back to Portland, and all through the southern neighborhoods of the city pointing out random bits of information. Despite the traffic, it was really interesting and informative and now when someone tells me they work in Lake Oswego (aka my roommate), I can actually see that place in my head and give it a location relative to where I live. All in all yesterday was nice, I got to feel a little more social for not knowing hardly anyone and now my feet are screaming for a rest. They received their rest yesterday since I spent most of the day curled up with a mug of Twinnings and my kindle.

Today the same awesome friend that showed me around on Friday invited me to a potluck with his extended family and while I was expecting an awkward encounter that would involve me trying to convince them I was not just some random girl off the street, it also turned into a rather enjoyable event. I love family get togethers, especially when they aren't my own. I know that sounds kind of awkward and like a pretty weird thing to say, but there's something incredibly interesting and entertaining about being around such a friendly group of people. I can't help but love the banter that results and even amidst the inside jokes, I still feel a part of something so warm and welcoming.

I get to be the random stranger that everyone wants to know about and it's not like I enjoy the attention, but I enjoy the freshness that comes with describing myself to a group of people who don't already know my ambitions or anything about me. I'm not sure if that makes sense. Apparently they liked me too since I've been invited to future picnics and game nights and it will be really nice having a family-like group without the drama that comes with dealing with my own family. In short, reconnecting with old friends isn't nearly as awkward as one would expect and I may have even gained a sort of pseudo second family out of it. Sometimes it's nice to have the feeling of home completely away from home.

mount tabor

My favorite place in Portland has to be Mount Tabor Park. Seeing as I've only explored about a tenth of the city that's probably not saying much, but I have a feeling it will remain one of my favorite spots. It's only a mile away from where I live making it easy to walk to (without getting lost, go me!) and it's brimming with trails, cyclists, children, dogs, runners, and stoners. Yeah, I don't really get the appeal of hiking up a small hill/mountain to smoke pot either, but it's Portland so I don't question these things. I would have taken a photo of the beautiful Mount Tabor, but apparently my cell phone whom I've named Wilma (not the Flintstone) dislikes doing that. Have I mentioned how technologically unsavvy I am?

I've also realized that being in a city filled with incredibly fit people makes me feel very unfit. Everywhere you go there are people jogging, biking, or doing things that in general are classified as some form of exercise. It's kind of like Europe except the sculpted calves here could give Germans a run for their Euros. I saw a guy biking the other day and I could see each curve of his gastocnemius muscle. It was amazing, slightly creepy and grotesque, but pretty amazing nonetheless. So perhaps it's a good thing I've been going to Mount Tabor and doing a little jogging/walking. I also feel like a super human coming from 7000 feet so until that wears off I might as well take advantage of my super human lungs. Still, you know when you're being out jogged by a 70 year woman and a group of stoners that you should probably try to do something remotely active on a somewhat regular basis. The blisters on my toes from walking downtown disagree with me, but what do they know anyways?

Furniture Update: I am now the proud owner of a secondhand desk. It's beautiful. Having a large workspace has been lacking for far too long. 

bed adventures

I now have a mattress. My room still looks like some sort of weird combination between a storage shed and a bachelor pad (tragic I know), except I don't think bachelors would have a bookcase brimming with books. On the plus side at least now I won't acquire scoliosis from sleeping on the floor. Getting the mattress was quite the adventure and I encountered one weird specimen of a lady during the process.

I'm talking serious Professor Trelawney material here. Bottle cap glasses with thick black lenses, frizzy white hair and the lingering scent of an old attic that seemed to follow her around. The fact that she lived in a giant creaky house from 1905 perched on a hillside helped the image considerably. Interestingly enough, when I first walked into her house she grabbed hold of my hand and I was certain she was going to try and read my palm. Turns out she was just giving me almonds to feed her schizophrenic dog.

After being offered multiple pieces of furniture that I had no interest in let alone room for, I hauled my "new" mattress up a winding rock path through some thick pink flowers the whole time debating whether it was even worth the trouble. However, after a night of sleeping on what is an undoubtedly comfortable mattress despite it's peachy frilliness, I would have hauled it three times the distance for the comforts that come with having a bed. No bed bugs either, I'd call this situation a definite win as far as my Portland adventures are concerned.

Now all that's left to find is a desk so I can finish unpacking...

a new place

Moving to a new city is scary. You don't know anyone aside from your roommate who you met over craigslist. And you don't know very much about him other than the few sentences he decided to divulge on the internet. At least his dog is really friggin cute.

You also don't know where you're going or what streets are even considered main streets. Or which streets are one way which is terrifying. In fact you're beginning to rely on your Tomtom that you've named Bonnie more than your own sense of direction. Which let's face it, kind of sucked to begin with.

You don't know which areas of town are "safe" and which ones aren't. You don't know whether you'll be mugged walking the one mile to the grocery store. For all you know the worst that could happen is breaking some sort of pedestrian law you weren't aware of since you just moved here. In fact you don't happen to know any laws in Oregon and could be breaking ten right now without even knowing it.

It's a big pile of scary. It's also exciting. But mostly scary.

The distinct lack of feeling like this is home doesn't help eliminate the scary. It certainly doesn't help that your room has one piece of furniture in it which just happens to be a bookshelf. Like you can sleep on that for the night right? Maybe all those cardboard boxes that are half unpacked could be turned into some furniture? At least the floor is pretty comfortable, relatively speaking. It's not wood so that's a plus. In fact it's pretty plush compared to some of the places you've slept before.

So you tell yourself to just suck it up and get over any fears you currently have. This is your dream. Remember four years ago when you wanted to go to college in the Northwest and were talked out of it? Remember how you cried and moped around for a week declaring that your life would be over if you had to stay in Arizona for college? Well you survived and now you're exactly where you wanted to be. and now Sure, it's slightly frightening, but you knew it would be. Anywhere new is scary.

So suck it up and just live.

when the world ends, i'll be ready

Dear adolescent Chelsea, I have just one question for you, why the hell did you save everything?? You're really making my life difficult these days. In all honesty, I don't know if I'm going through some sort of quarter life crisis where things don't have any value, but I have probably thrown away or donated over half of the things that are in my old bedroom at my parents house. And there's still stuff taking space! Ahhhh, it's like my own personal OCD nightmare. I get twitchy just looking at the piles molesting what used to be a clean bedroom floor.

I have collages from third grade. Third grade! Can you believe it! Collages from when I went through my "Michelle Kwan is the greatest human being on the planet" and "Aren't monkeys adorable?" phase. It's like some creepy monkey-figure skating tribute with puff paint and glitter. I have enough knick-knacks and rocks and silly childhood books to entertain a classroom of kindergartners and don't even get me started on the sheer volume of assignments I've saved. It's like a freaking Chelsea museum where every single facet has been carefully preserved under dust. Minus the creepy taxidermy animals and things that are actually valuable. I can't help asking myself why the hell my parents a) allowed me to take all this with me when we moved eight years ago and b) haven't thrown any of it away during my four years away at college.

I've come to the conclusion that as a child I collected everything. Or maybe I hit my collection years as a teenager. Either way, some of these things shouldn't even be collected. Like those little bead animal key chains and glow stick bracelets that have probably been dead for at least a decade, oh and how could I forget the wildlife magazines that are dated from 1995 through 1997. I don't even remember getting a subscription to them or why I would want one. Oh right, it must have been because of the monkeys.

I've come to the conclusion that I don't ever want to save this much crap ever again. After living in a dorm room with the bare essentials for four years I've decided that is the way I like it. Being able to fit everything into my car to flee in event of a fire or zombie apocalypse is a huge plus. Not to mention, I don't want to be reminded of all the countless hectares of precious rain forest I've slaughtered to "get an education." I'm probably going to end up as one of those sad, depressing people who lives in some hole in the wall apartment with only a single table and chair or something. A sure sign that she never has company and lives out of a suitcase because she's too frugal to purchase a bureau. Or something like that. I fear for my future. Not nearly as much as I fear for yours though since I'll at least be allowed on the spaceship that's going to save all of humanity should they impose a "two carry-on only" rule.