Ugg-h, I'm such a hypocrite

Monday morning I was slip sliding my way to work when I stepped in a puddle of slush and gross and my feet got soaked. By the time I got to work and peeled back the soaking wet layers of brown leather and 65% MicroSupreme®, 15% Acrylic, 15% Nylon, 5% Spandex my toes were wet and blue.

Upon further inspection I noticed a gaping hole at the heel of one of the boots - clearly, this was not something that could be fixed with a healthy dose of waterproofing spray and duct tape.
(Actually, that totally would have worked but really, guys, really? I'm trying to be at least a little less white trash in The Year of Lindsay.)

New boots it was... and I knew just the pair. That's right - the boot that makes a girls dainty toes look like hooves. The official boot of BU sorority girls and the bane of my collegiate existence...

Uggs.

By crossing this threshold I was going to a very dark place in my life; one where I'm a hypocrite and a slave to the capitalist bastards who set trends that cost a decent chunk of my paycheck.

Now, almost a week later, all I have to say about this new place I call home is THANK GOD I HAVE THESE CLOUDS ON MY FEET TO CUSHION THE EVIL. Sure, I may look like a clydesdale in them and yes, I'm aware that they apparently went out of style in 2003 but seriously?

Whoa on the comfort and protection from the elements. Worth every penny.

Music Review Monday

Album: C'mon Miracle
Artist: Mirah

6 Words: Haunting vocals and lyrics. LOVE.

A Match Made in Vegetarian Heaven

I know that I'm not involved or anything, but seriously, I'm so happy about the pending nuptials between two of the best friend's every vegetarian has ever had: Whole Foods and Wild Oats.

That's right - rich Whole Foods has proposed to pauper Wild Oats, who obviously gleefully accepted.

I mean, who wouldn't want to be part of the Whole Foods family with their deliciously wonderful selection and mounds of money?

Wild Oats and Whole Foods will make it official in April (shotgun wedding, much?) and I think that I speak for most steady paycheck-earning, reformed hipster vegetarians when I express my love and happiness at this joyous union.

Another Reason to Hate CT

I hate Connecticut for many reasons. Most of thse reasons are people (Danskillz, Dave Matthews Biggest Fan, etc.).

Newly added to the list? Yale University - home of Rory Gilmore, some ugly bulldog mascot, and a bunch of pretty buildings. Oh right, and the best academics in the country or something.

Yale was also the very temporary home of Katydid and myself after a road trip lead us on a quest through New Haven for a greasy spoon serving up deliciousness.

Holy popped collars and pretension.

We could cut the snobbery with a knife. We could also have cut a snob with a knife... but I'm fairly certain that Mumsy and Daddy wouldn't appreciate their darling baby angel calling home from the ER after being accosted by common street people while 'slumming it' at Au Bon Pain... I digress.)

So there we are taking in our surroundings like tourists when some Old Money walks in, straight off the pages of the Ralph Lauren catalog. Old Money was chatting loudly with a friend about summering in New England whilst writing her a thesis on "Maine and it's many charming islands"*.

So swiftly dashed were the dreams I had conjured up of finding intelligent, normal students who were accepted on merit vs. last name. Replacing these dreams? An inherent understanding that Yale makes everyone at Harvard look like monks who are getting ready to take vows of poverty and manual labor.

*Seriously, how is that a thesis topic? What is this girl's degree going to be, an MRS in Leisure Studies with a concentration in Entitlement?

Music Review Monday

Album: Romeo + Juliet: Music from the Motion Picture
(10th Anniversary Edition)
Artist: Various Artists

Six Words: Amazing at 14. Amazing at 24.

Reason #548453

So, aside from the popcorn cart located on the 14th floor of my office (stop it, you know you're jealous), the super cute boys who work with me, and the fact that Christina and I can create our own super cube that blocks out all other cubes, my office is not that great.

This is mostly because the lighting makes me nauseaous and it's the same distance from my apartment to work as it is from one end of the Kalahari desert to the other.

Now, while the lighting can't be fixed (seriously, who likes fluorescent lights!? No one. Who likes work?! No one. See the correlation? I'm not crazy here people.) the trek across the city can. At least for me.

Bask in the glow of Reason #548453 Why My Company Kicks Your Company's Ass: We can work remotely.

That's right.
I work from home.
At the age of 24.

This doesn't mean that i'm hunched over a desk cursing at my laptop... oh no.

This means that I am sitting in my underwear in bed, listening to very loud music, and researching ad placements in various publications here and abroad. When I'm done I plan on making a delicious coma-inducing lunch of farfalle and butter and watching Scrubs.

Have fun trudging to work in the snow and crowds, suckers.

2007: Truly the Year of Lindsay

Last night Most Attentive and I were laying in bed after a pretty delicious dinner watching tv when a preview for the new episode of House came on.

Guess who's guest starring as a dying man in agonizing pain?

DAVE FUCKING MATTHEWS. ... a.k.a. the bane of my existence.

God, please let him die... in the episode. I'd never actually wish real death on anyone --in real life I wish Dave Fucking Matthews and every other evil mother fucker in the world nothing worse than a very bad hang nail.

...lucky for me, this isn't going to be real life. Let's go FLATLINE.

Note to self: Don't go into Marketing.

This note, of course, would be more effective were it 1997 and not 2007.

Why the sudden change of heart regarding career path, you might wonder? Well, aside from the hideously long hours, pathetically adequate pay, lack of positive world impact, and thankless efforts, I apparently now have to worry about being bound to a chair with duct tape and shot to death by a crazy person.

Seriously, people. I know that they weren't finding a cure for cancer and they probably were, in fact, not the best people (most marketing execs aren't - don't believe me? Rent Dogma.) but come on - does anyone really deserve to bite it in a conference room?

Side note: It figures that the only person to talk to the press was an art director. Seriously. Figures.

Music Review Monday: Fall Out Boy

Artist: Fall Out Boy
Album: Infinity On High

Six words: Jay-Z and FOB 2Gether 4-EVA. Wootradrock.

I enjoy art.

Today instead of doing work when I was supposed to (give me a break, I was on a conference call until 12:30 AM) I searched for new things to waste my hard earned money on. Do you know what I found?

kurthalsey.com

For me, visual complexity is only necessary when you're not talented enough to get your point across in a few strokes. Enter Kurt Halsey, this absolutely great artist who doesn't mess around with extremely complicated imagery.

Now, because I'm awesome (and also because I shop at Urban Outfitters - I have his "All Fades" tryptich hanging up in my bedroom) I already knew about Mr. Halsey and his work. What I did not know was just how much of his stuff was available.

Coming soon to a cubicle near you (if your cubicle is near mine): The Kurt Halsey wall calendar and a print. If you're lucky, maybe you can come hang out near me and bask in their glory.


Honestly, how fun and pretty is this image?