Friday, April 29, 2011

like a charm



This may or may not be a little weird, but I'm having a love affair with my skin care routine as of late and I wanted to give the products a little shout out. Ever since college I've dealt with mild adult-onset acne (WHY, GOD, WHY) -- not too horrible, but definitely enough to not only be annoying but slightly embarrassing. Yikes. Anyway, I had resigned myself to the fact that this was just how things were going to be since it seemed like no matter what cleansers or scrubs or masks I tried, the acne kept on keepin' on. Until. The clouds parted. And I was drawn to Ulta for an impromptu spend-fest using money I so didn't have, but, oh man, it turned out to be so worth it.

Presenting the keys to your adult-acne blues:

Burt's Bees Peach & Willowbark Deep Pore Scrub
I've been using this every night before I go to bed just to kind of get the wear-and-tear from the day off my face, and not only does it smell lovely & feel really cleansing, it WORKS. I'm telling you. Continuing in my theme of falling in love with inanimate objects, my new deep pore scrub and I have something very serious going on. And I like it.

Formula 10.0.6 Best Face Forward Daily Foaming Cleanser
(with passionfruit + green tea)
This is what I use every morning right when I wake up to begin getting myself ready for the day ahead. It's phenomenal. Super smooth and gentle, it feels wonderful on my skin and leaves my face feeling ridiculously refreshed, ie. it's an excellent way to start my morning. Mmmmmmm yes, please.

Formula 10.0.6 Seriously Shine Free Mattifying Oil-Free Moisturizer
(with aloe vera + bamboo*)
And finally, the pièce de résistance, this miracle-worker is without a doubt the greatest moisturizer I have ever used in my entire life. Seriously. There are almost no words to describe how incredible it is. See, not only do I have the pleasure of dealing with acne at the young, hip age of 24, but I also have naturally oily skin. Meaning that by early afternoon my face is all shiny and feels sticky (god, I'm attractive). I've tried all kinds of oil-free moisturizers before but this is the only one that's the real deal. I put it on in the mornings after washing my face with Best Face Forward and my skin is clean, silky smooth (I'm not even kidding, it feels wonderfulllllll), and shine-free all the way until I go to bed. IS THIS REAL LIFE?!

Y'all, I know how borderline creepy this was, but I so don't even care. This has legitimately changed the look & feel of my face and eliminated not only 98% of my acne, but also given me buckets of confidence. Let's face it, having to apply concealer constantly in your early-20s makes you feel almost as big of a loser as living with your parents does (but not quite).

The point is if you're looking for something to spice up your skin care treatment, I highly recommend Formula 10.0.6's line. Likewise Burt's Bees has always been a favorite of mine (I love their conditioner and, of course, chapstick), and their deep pore scrub is worth the eight bucks. Trust me.

Oh, and you're totally welcome.

*Bamboo in a moisturizer? What the hell? I had no idea bamboo and faces were BFFs. Huh. The more you know.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

can't stop, won't stop: april

It's time for some April jams, friends (better late than never, right?)! Here's a peak at my current playlist:

  • Glee's cover of Animal (originally belonging to Neon Trees)
  • Knockout by Lil' Wayne and Nikki Minaj
  • Love Lost by Temper Trap
  • Who Says by Selena Gomez & the Scene (I'm embarrassingly into this song)
  • And I know I've mentioned it before, but I'm still really loving Freelance Whale's debut album Weathervanes. You should check it out immediately (and perhaps fall in love with the likes of Broken Horse and Kilajoules, samesies as me).

And because I'm ridiculously into that Selena Gomez song and just feel like posting the lyrics, I will. No big deal.

You made me insecure, told me I wasn't good enough
But who are you too judge when you're a diamond in the rough?
I'm sure you've got some things you'd like to change about yourself
But when it comes to me, I wouldn't want to be anybody else

I'm no beauty queen
I'm just beautiful me
You've got every right to a beautiful life

Who says, who says you're not perfect?
Who says you're not worth it?
Who says you're the only one who's hurting?
Trust me, that's the price of beauty
Who says you're not pretty?
Who says you're not beautiful?
Who says?

PS: Promise I'll actually post something soon. Well, maybe. It's just hard living the glamorous life of a substitute teacher, y'all.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

for morgan

Today Morgan, Mitch's baby sister, turns 18 and is one step closer to graduating, moving away to college and becoming an independent adult.


Djohariah by Sufjan Stevens

I've mentioned Morgan (and our tumultuous relationship) a few times before, although I think it's been many months since I've said anything about her at all. That would probably be because, long story short, we had a falling out around Christmas (isn't it cute how the holidays bring out the very best in everyone?) and things have been tense ever since. It's unfortunate and, okay, I haven't exactly taken the high road every minute of every day. So sue me.

All the same, it's a big day and it felt silly (wrong, even) not to acknowledge such a milestone in Morgan's life.

So, today (and this post!) is for you, Morgan. You're 18 now and practically all-grown up, eagerly anticipating August and your big move to San Marcos. I'm so proud of how you've excelled in school, how hard you've worked at tennis, and how fiercely you love your family. We, you and I, may have gotten off to a rocky start two years ago and, yes, we may have had more downs than ups between us, but I'm happy to know you. I'm happy to be listed as your sister on Facebook. And I'm happy to love you.

Happy birthday. :)

PS: I know it's 4/20 and all, but no getting into the ganja today, okay? But it's my birthday! will get you no where with the police. Trust me.

Sunday, April 17, 2011


What's that?

Oh, THIS? It's just my new blog design. No big deal.

Lies. It's a very big deal. To me, at least. And I have to say, I'm a bit in love, if it's even possible to be in love with things like hummingbird backgrounds and Google directory fonts. Trevor is a magician, no? When we had our friend-date/hey-I-need-blog-design-help date on Friday night, the only specifics I brought to him were that I wanted my page to look clean and user-friendly. Vague. I know. But we spent a few hours trolling the internets together and trying out this and then testing out that until we (ahem, he) created the beautiful masterpiece you see before you.

And like I said, I'm quite smitten.

In case you're wondering about the hummingbirds, we chose them because while trying to think of a picture or pattern or what-have-you that best "represented" me, I confided to Trev that if I could be any animal, I would be a hummingbird. Why? Because they're flighty (in a good way, right?) and energetic and cheerful. Well, I've always thought of them as cheerful, anyway, and the point is that hummingbirds are darling and funny and they make me strangely happy.

And there you have it.


Or, me in bird form. Same diff.

I hope y'all like it as much as I do! You'll also notice I added several new pages to the top, so feel free to peruse those at your leisure. They're terribly and not at all important. Although one does feature a picture of Mitch wearing a rain poncho and that always makes me laugh.

Later I'm hoping to write up a recap of a little thing called Warrior Dash in which I participated today, but until then I'll leave you with this picture:

I know you're distracted by the fact that I appear to not be wearing pants, but seriously, check out this dude's helmet.

Hope everyone had a happy weekend! Let's BTHO this week. A-whoop!

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


“You know, that’s the first dance I’ve been to in a long time and there were no slow songs. When are you supposed to get close to your woman? And I mean in a loving way, not just in a I-wanna-put-my-dick-on-you way.”
-Mitch Baker

Even if I tried, I’m not sure I could have come up with a better quote to sum up Prom 2011.

And yes, you read correctly.



Mitch and I went to prom, and not just because we’re a. creepers or b. super-creepers, but because c. I was there professionally as the photographer. Which means that actually Mitch was there for reasons a. and b. Oops.

Mitch, my mom and I getting ready for THE SINGLE GREATEST NIGHT OF OUR LIVES.

We were both really excited about it. Probably too excited. But, y’all, prom as an adult (and I use the term adult loosely, for obvious reasons) isn’t that awesome. Although, to be honest, even when I was in high school I thought prom was a total drag, but that’s probably because, as you may recall, I was a loser with bad hair, and Prom 2005: Here’s to the Night was no exception.


Moving on.

On the ride up to McKinney, Mitch and I took turns guessing which songs the DJ would play. We figured this would be a piece of cake because we’re young, hip and fun. We listen to not only 106.1 and 93.3, but also 97.9 AND 104.5. We know what’s going on with the music of today. Or so we thought. Can I just tell y’all that we made a list of 34 songs (and the official rules of this challenge stated that for every song you picked that was played, the other person had to buy you a drink, obvi), and out of those 34 young, hip, fun songs, only six were played. SIX. I don’t even need to tell you that out of those six, only one was mine, although I guess I just did. So not only was the playlist shit, but now I owe Mitch five beers and I have, like, four dollars, so I guess we’re keepin’ it classy with Keystone.


I blame the 6/35 on the DJ, a man who can truly be described as the real OG (here meaning the Original Guido). His excessively-bronzed skin overly accentuated his electric-white teeth, both of which I would have been willingly to overlook all that if the man would have at least played Britney Spears’ Till the World Ends as opposed to, oh, I don’t know, a techno remix of Hey, Soul Sister by Train.


What are you doing, sir?

Look at your life. Look at your choices.

By the time the night was over and we were finally able to make the hour drive home, we were so burned out on BOOOooomOOOOooom BOOM BOOMBOOM BOOM CHIKITAH CHIKITAHCHIKITAH THUNDA THUNDA THUNDA that we just couldn’t handle anything on the radio.

So we turned on 98.7 for some golden oldies, ie. music that didn’t make me feel like I was inside a woofer. Or a strobe light.

And as we drove home, listening to the ever smooth King of Motown, we bitched about kids these days and their damn music, how it’s so loud and just a lot of noise, if you ask me, and so on and so on and so on.

Then it hit me.

We’re old.

Not old-old. Just older, I guess. What I mean is we’re not eighteen anymore, and while it’s the bitter in bittersweet to recognize the loss of (some of) my youth, I gotta tell ya, the sweet part is not only the knowledge and maturity that comes with age, but the confidence that, hell, I’m better than all those young punks.


*A kachillion thanks to Mitchell S. Baker for being a stellar prom date. As always, I was so proud to have you by my side.

You're pretty.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

willhoite's (where, for a good time, call jessica)

Two Fridays ago Kelsey called and invited Mitch and I to go scout a band with her & Harrison that they were thinking of booking for their wedding. As it turned out, the band was playing in Grapevine (holla!) that night at a restaurant slash biker bar called Willhoite’s.

I love Willhoite's.


For a million reasons, but mostly because they have a kickass lunch buffet that my friend Sarah and I like to hit up on a regular basis, but also because it’s a great place to people-watch. And by people-watch, I mean stare at hot-mess townies. Unfortunately the buffett and hot-mess townies don’t overlap as there aren’t too many drunks roaming Main Street on Tuesday afternoons. Go figure.

Sidenote: I was briefly friends with a guy who told me that he once went home with a woman he picked up at Willhoite’s. She turned out to be forty-four and a mother to three kids, two of which were teenagers. My friend was twenty-six. Classic.

End sidenote.

Anyway, I readily agreed to join them and while the band was fun but (at times) talentless (seriously, their cover of Purple Rain?), Willhoite’s did not disappoint.

And it’s all thanks to Jessica.

Things that make this picture awesome: the angle, as I was shooting from the balcony above, and the fact that the thing semi-obstructing the view is a set of mounted antlers.

To be honest, we really have no idea what her name was, but the four of us took turns coming up with possible monikers because we got tired of saying things like, Hey, look, the drunk girl’s back! Tagging a name to a sloppy face was much easier, not to mention much more amusing. The point is that this woman was the embodiment of DTF (and if you don’t know what that is…look it up). She was the personification of not giving a damn, the ghost of every drunken hook-up ever to take place in the history of the world.

In a word, Jessica was fun.

Jessica took to the dance floor with wild, reckless abandon, continually coming back with different men and progressively giving fewer & fewer shits as the night went on. It’s hard to say if the rest of the bar viewed her as much of a joke as we did. I’d like to think everyone else was in on it as well, and that the dudes romantically banging against her were aware that on the balcony above sat four incredibly entertained twenty-somethings watching their every move (and, sure, at times cheering them on).

Two-thumbs up to each and every townie with the balls to behave this way.

Bringing the evening to a brilliant crescendo, Jessica brought one lucky lad over to the enormous fireplace that made up one complete wall surrounding the dance floor and straddled him while, I shit you not, gyrating on beat to the band’s rendition of Play That Funky Music, White Boy. Between the humping and the forced chest-grabbing (girlfriend was not afraid to let everyone know exactly what she wanted), Jessica was a sight to behold.

Bless her heart.

I watched this for over an hour. That's not creepy.

I was more than happy urging Mitch to ask her for a dance –- it was the night before our anniversary, and really, what could be a better gift?

Sadly, he declined, possibly out of fear of molestation.


Proof that Willhoite's brings out the absolute best in everyone. And, Kelsey, you requested that I take this picture. I think it came out excellently.

Eventually, Harrison, Kelsey and Mitch were forced to drag me away from the train wreck with which I’d become obsessed. And sure, a little part of me feels sorry for Jessica – who knows what’s actually going on in her life? Maybe she just lost her job or is in the middle of a nasty divorce with her husband over an illicit affair involving one or more of the bartenders? It’s hard to say, but maybe she needed the magic that only Willhoite’s and embarrassing amounts of sloppy public make-outs can bring to shine a little light back into her life.

If that’s the case then I say, you play that funky music, Jessica. You play that funky music right.

And party on.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

irritation station
(alternative title: my blog is so ugly that i feel annoyed just looking at it)



I'm super irritated as of late, friends, because I feel like I have so many things going on that I would like to write about...


This here blog of mine?

It's hideous.

That's an extreme statement, sure, but I'm prone to those, so it's whatev. The point is I'm mega-over the look of my website, so much so that I dread dealing with it. Isn't that just downright silly? I think so, too. Luckily I have a wonderful friend who's fantastic at designing quality shit (shout out, Trevor!) who has agreed to help me with some changes. We have a little friend date set up for next Friday and I'm obnoxiously excited.

Fingers crossed for a new & improved blog in the next couple weeks! :)

In the meantime, I'll try to keep writing. I need to keep writing. That's what writers are supposed to do, right? And first and foremost, this is a place where I do just that: write. It's entertaining. It's cathartic.

It's freeing.

Of course there's the added bonus of feeling connected to other people all over the globe and having the opportunity to meet wonderful people who begin to feel like friends, but I hope this, for me, never becomes about recognition. Of any kind.

That's a struggle, though, isn't it?

Maybe that's just me.


Hopefully I'll put my irritations on hold long enough to actually flex the ol' writing muscles for longer than a few minutes this week. I can't wait to talk about what a beauty & a badass my friend Kelsey is, the night spent out with friends at Grapevine's somewhat famous biker bar (complete with class-act townies, oh yes), and the kickball team I just joined/helped organize (our first game is April 26th!).

There's a lot happening and the world's moving fast...sometimes I get so overwhelmed and whisked away in it all that I forget to stop, breathe, and write. And believe it or not, I need to do all three in order to not only survive, but really live.

Happy Wednesday (evening!), y'all. We're halfway to the weekend. :)

Saturday, April 2, 2011

one year or two? it's hard to say, but i love you.

Happy anniversary to myself and one helluva guy, Mitchell S. Baker.

I'm not totally sure how many years we're celebrating today since it took us (read: me) a year to settle down, but meh, who's counting anyway? The point is April 2nd is a pretty special day. It was April 2nd of 2009 that we went to a Rangers Game together and hung out for the first time since meeting at that party, and it was on April 2, 2010, at the Deep Ellum Arts festival in Dallas that you asked me to be your girlfriend and I finally said yes, giving in and acknowledging everything that had already been going on for over a year. My b.

Mitch, I love you. And not just because we do fun things like take roadtrips to New Orleans or assert our dominance as Best Couple at other people's weddings, but also in spite of things like being younger than me and occasionally dressing like a lesbian. You're kind, funny, and hard working, and even though you looked like this in high school, you've somehow managed to blossom into a total stud (and you're even studlier now that you have a sweet beard).

To quote something I wrote last summer (that still rings true and is almost too sickeningly sweet):

Mitchell, this has not been the easiest year and some odd months. In particular the last couple weeks have been trying, and you have, through it all, been steadfast. I love that you cry just as much as I do even though I tease you mercilessly for it. I love your beard and your blue eyes and your Finley nose. I love your laugh. I love how excited Clark gets when she sees you. I love the way you dance, in the car and anywhere else. You are the true definition of an optimist. You have the sunniest, happiest personality, and everyone who meets you falls instantly under a spell you don't even realize you're casting.

You remind me that I don't have to do it all alone and that I don't always have to be in control. You work alongside me because you want to, not because you have to. My parents and friends love you possibly even more than I do. I love that sometimes you get so excited for me to visit that you even vacuum. I love you for coaching tennis for six-year olds. I love your friends. I even love your mother. I love your desire to work hard. You are ambitious in your own right, tackling endeavour after endeavour with too much humility to ever brag. I'm proud of you for starting the club team and then your own business. I'm proud of you for paying your way through school. I'm proud of you for keeping your closet clean after you let me organize it. And, Mitch, I'm not sorry it took us a year to settle down. I love our story exactly the way it is. I love the way we've turned out and I love us.

You are all of our good and I am all of our bad, I know, but thank you for loving me all the same.

Happy anniversary. :)
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