What Big Girls Can Do to Get a Tall Man

Hm. You might want to ask yourself why big girls don't already get tall guys. I have NO clue. All I know is that tall guys date petite girls, usually. Very rarely do I see a tall man with a tall woman. (And that's what I mean by "big," by the way -- tall with large bones.) I wrote a post about this before, and one of the tall guys disagreed with me (Ezra). I will tell you now, though, that his wife is petite, but I think she has him tricked because she wears high, high heels most of the time . . .

ANYWAY, it is true. I'm not the only tall girl who notices it. Well, I told my mom about it tonight, and she said I need to just make a t-shirt with the following slogan on it:

"You want big ballplayer kids? Marry me."

Pretty funny, huh? Of course, if my mom was a scientist, she would be an evolutionist, and she doesn't understand that evolutionary theory is just one way to view the situation. If she is right, though -- if guys want to secure an athletic posterity -- why are tall guys dating girls well below their shoulders? Surely it can't be comfortable to kiss that way. Surely the guy can't as comfortably put his arm around her waist. I just don't get it. Does anyone out there have any answers?

Thing I'm thankful for: speaking in New York accents with Heather.

Huh.

I'm not writing this post out of vanity, I just thought it was an interesting follow up to my Look-Alikes post.

A few days after I wrote that entry, I was in Wolf Camera picking up some newly developed photos. I had asked the cashier about digital cameras, and we had a very short conversation. Just before I left, I said, "You know, you remind me of someone famous, but I can't think of who it is." Then she said, "It's funny you say that because I was just thinking about how you sounded like someone famous -- she just had that baby Apple . . . Gwyneth Paltrow."

Huh. That's funny, huh? I'm positive about the resemblance now. It's not the looks; it's my voice. Very nasal. I think I'd be good at Portuguese.

As a side note, yesterday at church a guy told me I looked like Drew Barrymore. Uh, that's a new one. I really don't think I look like her at all. I think people often see my colorin' (pale skin, blonde hair) and immediately link me to people with pale skin and blonde hair, without really seeing face shape and features. But I guess I do it, too.

Thing I'm thankful for: leftovers. They have taken on new meaning in my working world.

I Got My Hair Dyed Today

And while I was waiting for the color to set, I skimmed through the June 2006 Oprah magazine. (I know, I know -- what was I doing reading "O"? I dunno, really. I don't really like to support Oprah too much, if I can help it. Though, she's a decent person, I guess. Why do I feel some resentment towards her? I have my reasons . . . Maybe I'll post them someday.)

ANYWAY, there was an article on how women today are showing more and more skin. "Cool," I thought. Maybe the editors are going to tell women they should cover up. But no, that's not what it was about. There was, however, a section of quotes from designers or famous people or whoever else wanted to comment on nudity. One quote went like this:

In a restaurant, the more money a man has, the more cleavage his date seems to show. If some high roller will be dropping a lot on wine, he wants to have something to look at during his three-hour meal. But when your dress is too tight, you can't really eat. I've seen these girls just sitting there, drinking, looking good, and full plates going into the garbage.

-- Name withheld, manager of a four-star restaurant, NYC

As I thought about what this meant, I realized 3 things:

1. I don't like the kind of men and women described in this quote.
2. If this scenario is generally true, it's highly likely that I will marry a middle-class man, and we will always struggle for money.
3. That comedian (whoever it was) is right -- Oprah is always on the cover of her own magazine. Hmph.

I thought it was an interesting observation that NYC manager made. I thought you might like it.

What about my hair, you ask? Well, it's darker -- probably nearer my natural hair color anyway. And there are some lowlights, which is cool. But it takes me a while to get used to change. I'll tell you how I feel about it in a few weeks. Until then, here's a (not very revealing) picture. I'm sorry about poor lighting and camera phone picture quality.


Can you tell a difference?

Thing I'm thankful for: my family, my family, my family. I really can't stress my love for them enough.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!

I Heart Ray LaMontagne, or Drunk People at Concerts

Last night, I went to a Ray LaMontagne concert with my friend Shannon. Okay, it was really a Guster concert, but as far as I was concerned, it was all about Ray. Sure, Guster's okay -- they do try out different sounds using a trumpet, bongos, and a piano. Pretty cool, I guess, but I wasn't really that into them.

Oh, but Ray LaMontagne is good people. He's got a classic rock/bluesy kind of sound. I like to think of him as a male Janis Joplin. If you're into old rock, listen to him. I can't guarantee you'll like him, but I think you will.

He played at Chastain Amphitheatre, which is an outside venue with seats. You can take food and tables and chairs, so Shannon and I brought a picnic dinner. We had salami, Harvarti cheese, and cracker sandwiches; apples and chocolate dip; snow peas; Biscoff; chocolate chip cookies; and pistachios. Yeah, the other people around us were jealous of our food.

Since you can bring pretty much anything, a lot of people brought -- you guessed it -- alcohol. Now, I have nothing against alcohol (that's entirely untrue), but let me just say the following 3 things related to the chemical:

1. I don't like obnoxious drunk people.
2. Booty-dancing drunk girls are so embarrassing.
3. Booty-dancing drunk guys look like such pervs.

Anyway, those are my thoughts.

Thing I'm thankful for: hip-hop conversations with Lexia. They're fun.

Look-Alikes

I hear this a lot: "You know, you look like [insert celebrity name here]." Or "You remind me of . . ." The thing is, is that I remind others of completely different people. Check it out -- these are the people I've been repeatedly told I resemble:

Gwyneth Paltrow -- that's cool. I think it's the nasal tone of my voice.


Heather Burns -- best remembered as her blonde character from "Miss Congeniality," Cheryl Frasier, Miss Rhode Island. Yeah, I think that fits -- it's the whiny voice.


Laura Prepon -- Hm. I think it's because she's tall and has a low voice, and I'm tall and have a low voice. Weird thing is, my sister Lexia has been compared to her too.


Napoleon Dynamite -- Uhhhh. It's the voice inflection. And the droopy eyes. :(


Thing I'm thankful for: that I've mostly gotten Gwyneth Paltrow. Yesss. I don't think I resemble her now, although I might have when I was a younger, tan, thin high schooler. :(

Look, Ma, I'm Growin' Up!

Last week I realized something: I'm glad I'm not married yet.

I became a working girl right out of college. Every day I get up much earlier than my desired waking time and go to work. Sometimes I'm busy, and sometimes I'm not. But either way, I have to be at work for 8 hours, then sit in traffic, longing to be home -- where I can change into jeans and a t-shirt, put my hair up in a ponytail, and do whatever I please.

It's almost been a year since I graduated, and this work routine is still difficult for me to get used to. Driving kind of sucks the energy out of my brain most of the time, and being on a schedule is . . . against my religion. :) The hardest part about my life is that it's pretty lonely. Yes, I have friends; yes, I hang out with them; and yes, I have fun. But I have a longing to share my life with someone, just like anybody else. I think I'm mentally and spiritually prepared for marriage. I'm even getting temporally prepared for it.

But I'm really glad it hasn't happened yet. I feel a great sense of connection and understanding to other lonely people. I know that I'll appreciate my husband more than I would have if I had gotten married say, three years ago. And honestly, I think that working 9 to 5 is giving me a good understanding of what it's like to be a husband, coming home from work after a long day. I don't want to cook. I don't want to clean. (Well . . . I usually do always like to clean.) I don't really want to do much of anything. I just want to be home and "unwind." I think that's probably the biggest reason I'm glad I'm not married yet. I'm getting the chance to live in a man's shoes, sort of -- and it's a chance that probably not every young wife and mother has.

I'm very grateful for my life, and I'm thankful to Heavenly Father for knowing what I need.

BUT! Now that I know what I'm supposed to know . . . I expect a marriage within a year! :)

I Think We Could Be Friends

The following are famous or unreal people I think I could be great friends with if they a) were actually people I talked to or b) existed.


Alex P. Keaton


Anne of Green Gables


Zoey Deschanel


Tobey Maguire


Jane Austen


Monica Gellar


Steve from Blue's Clues


Jane Lane


Matt Damon


Who would YOU be friends with?

Thing I'm thankful for: my queen-sized bed and 300-count sheets. Yay for sleep!

My Hair Has Volume!!!

YAY! Finally, a new look for my new life! :)

BEFORE: YUCK! (And I'm not talking about the picture quality . . .)


AFTER:


What do you think?

Thing I'm thankful for: European hairstylists. They're wonderful! (I went to Terra Mater in Decatur and the woman who cut my hair is Croatian. She's great!)

Mahwedge. Mahwedge Is What Brings Us Togethaaa Todaaay.

Due to the controversial nature of the statement "I really want to get married," (See Sorry, Guys and Dear Anonymous #1) I decided I should get in on this action, too.

I think the whole thing is just an argument of semantics. See, Lexia and plenty of other girls -- including myself -- say, "I really want to get married," out of convenience. It's a lot quicker than saying, "I really want to find a person whose personality and interests match or complement mine in enough and special ways to form a strong bond of love and commitment, and then I want us to take part in the societal and spiritual institution we call marriage."

See?

I really want to get married.

Thing I'm thankful for: when I get a lot done at work.

Bad Writing Contest

My friend Karmelle sent me a link to a Bad Writing Contest. Here are my favorites (There are a lot, but I PROMISE they're funny!):

The day was like any other, except that this was a Wednesday so it was really only like 1/7th of the other days. --Randy Wilson; New Albany, IN

She looked at her hands and saw the desiccated skin hanging in Shar-Pei wrinkles, confetti-like freckles, and those dry, dry cuticles--even her "Fatale Crimson" nail color had faded in the relentless sun to the color of old sirloin--and she vowed if she ever got out of the Sahara alive, she'd never buy polish on sale at Walgreen's again. --Christin Keck; Kent, OH

It was a day, like any other day, in that Linus got up, faced the sunrise, used his inhaler, applied that special cream between his toes, wrote a quick note and put it in a bottle, and wished he'd been stranded on the island with something other than 40 cases each of inhalers, decorative bottles, and special toe cream. --Chris Harget; Campbell, CA

The cold, cynical wind molested the auburn tresses of the fair damsel clinging to the steel of the rail trestle, from which vantage point she could see that it was a long way down to where she would land if she fell, which, given the velocity she would attain and the unfriendly pavement leering up at her, added to soft tissue's low tolerance for sudden impacts, would be a very bad thing. --Pat Hricko; Nicholson, PA

Todd languished there, neck deep in the pumpkin-hued Amargosa Desert sand like a long forgotten cupcake in an Easy Bake Oven gone hellishly amok, and it finally made sense . . . "ooohhhh, DEATH Valley. --Jeffrey Barnes; Atlanta, Georgia

The McCain boys strode off proudly to fight in the Civil War, one for the Union and one for the Confederacy, neither of them giving a single thought to who would play them in the television movie of their story, which would be decided more than a hundred years later by 20-something casting agents who kept getting the Civil War and World War II mixed up. --Carmen Fought; Diamond Bar, CA

A single sparkling tear fell from Little Mary's cheek onto the sidewalk, then slid into the storm drain, there to join in its course the mighty waters of the Los Angeles River and, eventually, Long Beach Harbor, with its state-of-the-art container-freight processing facilities. --Bill Mac Iver; Berkeley, CA

Her angry accusations burned Clyde like that first bite of a double cheese pizza, when the toppings slide off and sear that small elevation of the oral mucosa, just behind the front teeth, known as the incisive papilla, which is linked to the discriminatory function of the taste buds except, where Clyde was concerned, when it came to women. --Pamela Patchet Hamilton; Beaconsfield, Quebec

As he saw his master approach, his tail wagged severely like an elderly lady fanning herself with a cardboard fan with a Bible verse on one side and a picture of Jesus on the other while singing hymn 567 from the Common Book of Hymns on an August afternoon revival in southern Indiana. --Ron Bird; Lakehills, TX

Our story begins with Raul, gently stroking Priscilla's raven hair, gazing into her coal-dark eyes, eyes that reminded him of the blackness of the inside of a size 11 1/2 D shoebox, which in turn reminded him he needed to get his Bass Weejuns re-soled before that job interview next week with the owner of the janitorial service. --Gordon Bassham; Andover, KS

The steam rose off his sweaty red flannel shirt like cotton candy on a cardboard cone, if cotton candy were transparent in a misty sort of way and didn't actually stick to its cone, but instead rose upwards something like steam rising off a sweaty flannel shirt in the twilight of an early winter Vermont afternoon. --T. Edward Lavoie; Essex Junction, VT

And my personal favorite:

It was a dreary Monday in September when Constable Lightspeed came across the rotting corpse that resembled one of those zombies from Michael Jackson's "Thriller," except that it was lying down and not performing the electric slide. --Derek Fisher; Ottawa, ON

Gotta love those Canadians!

Thing I'm thankful for: calls from people wanting to talk to ME! :)

Truth: I Was a Bed-Wetter

I sometimes wonder why I wet the bed a lot as a child. I think it's because I was premature and didn't get much of my mother's milk. See?

In a group of New Jersey children, breast-feeding for more than three months appeared to be linked with a lower rate of bed-wetting after the age of five years.

This comes from yesterday's Wall Street Journal, in an article written by Elena Cherney -- Breast Milk May Lead to Lower Rate of Bed-Wetting.

Authors of the bed-wetting study acknowledge that their research doesn't prove that breast-feeding causes children to be dry at night sooner, but says it provides evidence of a link that should be studied further.

Thing I'm thankful for: good ol' fashioned logic debates.

Zoltar

I was on my way to the Borders at Arbor Place Mall to buy "Frampton Comes Alive," when I spotted a Zoltar machine. It was a little different than the one featured in "Big," but it was definitely a Zoltar. Had I time and a camera, I would've taken a picture. Maybe next time. But I still thought you should know -- you know, in case any of you have unfulfilled wishes . . . Arbor Place is da spot.

Thing I'm thankful for: laughing my guts out.

I Hate It When People Say . . .

"You can sleep when you're dead."

That's one of the most ridiculous sayings I've ever heard in my entire life, and if anyone ever says it to me again, I think I might just have to punch him.

Thing I'm thankful for: quiet Friday nights when I can just do whatever I want.

Ah, the Sounds of Morning . . .

I woke up this morning to a scratching sound somewhere in the corner of my room. Was it the plastic bags in the corner? A shifting of my kitchenware that is still in the box? No to both.

Aha! It was the plastic wrapping on the honey suckle-scented candles I just bought, so new that they were still in the Pottery Barn bag I brought them home in.

Wait a second . . . Why would my candles be scratching something? I took the cellophane-wrapped box of candles out and shook it and pushed on it to see if the cellophane was making the noise. Nope. That's not it. But the noise was coming from the bag. I was sure of it. As I put the box back in it's place, I saw a brown spot caught between the side of the bag and the packing paper on the bottom. A cockroach! Gross! At least it wasn't a mouse.

And it did wake me up for the day -- I hadn't even heard my alarm. Visions of Gregor Samsa danced in my head. What if this cockroach was really a person?

I would kill it anyway. But then it would leave cockroach guts all over my Pottery Barn bounty. So I went outside and dropped it out of the bag. Goodbye, cockroach!

I thought about all the places a bug or small rodent could hide in my place and immediately had a minor panic attack. Heavenly Father, please don't let any more creatures find their way into my apartment.


Thing I'm thankful for: pest control.

Happy 4th of July!

My day started at about 5:30 a.m. I woke up with Brooks and Jacki and Ezra and Crystal to run the Peachtree Road Race. Well, I didn't actually run it; I walked. Still, I did it -- 6.2 miles! I'm okay, except my feet hurt. (I really need to get some running shoes that I use exclusively for running . . .) It was especially fun for me because, although Jacki, Ezra, and Crystal ran ahead, Brooks stayed behind and walked with me, and who could complain about walking alongside her very good older brother for 6.2 miles? That was my favorite part of the race. My second favorite part was the people on the sidelines -- especially the wrinkled old ladies -- cheering the runners and walkers on. How nice!

Anyway, it was pretty neat, and I got a slight tan on my face. And I was invited to Ezra's parents' house for a breakfast lunch, which was delicious (French toast with orange sauce -- YUM).

But my day didn't stop there. I went to a BBQ party, stood in the rain to wait for the Lenox Mall fireworks, went back to the party, and had fun, lighthearted conversation in between! I'm only sorry I don't have any pictures! (I really need to buy a digital camera, now that I moved and can't use my mommy's anymore.)

Hm, I'm realizing that this post might be kind of boring for pretty much anyone besides me . . .

Thing I'm thankful for: the invention of fireworks. They're BE-A-Utiful! (In case you haven't ever seen them in your life . . .)

Sometimes I Wish I Was . . .

. . . my sister Lexia. She is so funny and smart and goar-juhs. Just look at how funny she is:

The World As I See It


Thing I'm thankful for: reading good books.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Some important business is in order: I have to catch up on my birthday posts. So.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BROOKS!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BLAKE!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LILY!

All the Juicy Details

In true Sawa fashion, I left out the details in my last post. So I will tell you what I do and where I moved to.

I am a junior web developer at the Centers for Disease Control (My official title is "Web Designer," but I think that term is a little misleading.). It's important for me to mention that I DO NOT work for the CDC -- I work for an outsourcing company at the CDC. It's a very distinct difference, and the government is very strict about CDC contractors telling people the wrong thing. In fact, I should probably put a disclaimer on every post from now on, but this one post will have to do. (I should also note that the CDC Style Manual instructs editors to leave the article off of CDC -- as in, "I work at CDC." Weird, huh?)

So since I work in Atlanta, I decided it would be best to move to Atlanta, which is good for several reasons -- one of which is that I want to get married ASAP, and there's probably no place better to be single than in the city.

Note: I do not work at the Center for Infectious Diseases, so sadly, I won't be on the cutting edge of all the "important" CDC news. I work at the Center for Chronic Disease, which may be less sensational, but of equal importance, I think.

Thing I'm thankful for: national holidays.

Oh, Blogging World! How I've Missed You!

For about a month now, I have been postponing any blogging until I get all of my New York pictures uploaded. But there are about 400 pictures to go through, and I haven't even fixed all of them in Photoshop yet! So I decided I would just post those pictures when I can, even if they're out of chronological order -- and you gotta know how much that irritates me.

But what irritates me more is that I've been neglecting this here blog, and I haven't documented one of the most important changes in my life: a new job and a move. About two months ago, someone called my posts cryptic. Well, they were because I had interviewed for a job, but didn't know exactly where it was going. I got it, stressed about whether or not to take it, took it, had to find an apartment in about a week, and had to move in.

So. That's why I haven't had time to upload all of those pictures. And now I have more, too, because I know you'll all want to see my new place!

I call this my Year of Change. The first theme song is "Changes" by David Bowie and "Under Pressure" by Queen. Here's what I've done since last July 31st:

• Graduated from college
• Was unemployed for four months
• Went through a vigorous job search
• Found a job
• Started becoming really active in the YSA scene
• Asked a boy out (maybe not a big deal, but it was for me!)
• Dated a guy (sort of) and got dumped (sort of)
• Bought my first car
• Found another job
• Moved into my first apartment

Those are a lot of huge life changes, I would say. Will all of you forgive me for not blogging or talking to you?

Thing I'm thankful for: my wonderful, incredible family.