Random Stuff. Mostly Boy-Related.

Lady in Red

According to a new study, I'm totally irresistible to the opposite sex on weekends. And on Fridays. Because when I'm at home, typing away, I wear read sweats. And red = men love me. It's science. I suppose I would have to leave my apartment in my state of redness for this to be more effective. Details, details.

Unfortunately, redness only affects attractiveness. Not likability. So when I'm in red, you might think I'm hot without actually liking me. But really, who doesn't find over-sized red sweatpants sexy?

Can you imagine the damage a little red dress could do? I won't even go there.

[Don't] Kiss Me, I'm Irish

For a brief moment this week, I wanted to dress like Colin Farrell. Maybe it's because we have the same hair. But really, if I were a boy, I would wear fedoras. And vests.

I used to find Colin a little gross. Not so much anymore. Maybe I'm just getting older and learning to appreciate disheveled European men. Or maybe he now showers a little more frequently. Hmm.

"I Don't"

I think about weddings a lot. Because I'm paid to write about them. I don't plan my own nuptials in my head, however, I just admire others'. I'm not really an insert-groom-here kind of gal. The only detail I insist on is that a pretty fantastic guy be waiting to meet me when I walk down the aisle. That's all.

If my future husband reads this (super-weird thought), please don't include the word "psych" in your proposal.

Nadine the Numbat


When I was in public school, every time we played the name game, I had to introduce myself as "Nadine the Numbat." Because I could never think of another N animal. (No, I didn't think of narwhal or nightingale.) This week, I learned that numbats are actually rather cool-looking marsupials that eat termites. So I should have been prouder of the name. I think I'll add "see numbat" to the list of things to do before I die. Right beside "see wombat." Since they're neighbors.

Once Upon a Dream

I had a dream this week that was thematically linked to a dream I had in high school. Sort of. Only this one had a new cast of characters. But it was equally traumatic.

I'm at a café near my house. In the parking lot, actually. And his closest friends are there, rather dapper in tuxedos and suits. Waiting. They start to holler and cheer as a car drives by, decked out in streamers.

He got married today. No one told me.

Exactly nine days after our last date.

Apparently, my dreams have a sense of time. And history. I don't know why I knew it was nine days. But I woke up in a burdened daze. It was so real, so awkward, so confusing.

It's probably a good thing I have no idea what such a dream means. Thankfully, I did not have a date nine days ago. That would just be painful.

(The high-school dream involved a cute boy from youth group marrying Amy from the book Little Women. Instead of me. And no one told me until I accidentally arrived at the ceremony.)

The Duggars

I'm going to have to blog about this family at a later date. I caught the episode of their show 17 Kids and Counting in which their eldest proposed to the girl he wasn't dating. (She didn't want to court until she turned 20. So he proposed on her 20th birthday.) And I surprised myself by my strong reaction. Yes, I think it's totally cool and honorable to not kiss until your wedding day. Drawing names as to which little sibling will chaperon your dinner date is pushing it, though. Constant policing DOES NOT EQUAL SELF-CONTROL. Sheesh. And if you didn't date before you got engaged, and can't spend time alone together after you get engaged, marriage might be a little weird. You know, 'cause all of a sudden you have to hang out with your spouse.

Two Minutes

I'm busy. But I might have time for a two-minute date. See below. And yes, it's in real time. Seriously, How I Met Your Mother is my new favorite sitcom (that isn't The Office. Or 30 Rock).