Thursday, August 30, 2012

MOVING WITH NIGE featuring a side of AWKWARD as usual.

Mother f'ing pain in the funny bone
Oh my gosh where did I put the packing tape
Victor, my imaginary boyfriend needs to not be imaginary right now and help me lift these boxes!
I can't believe I still have my old retainer!
Now where am I going to put my giant Haribo Gummi Bear night light in my new room!?!?
Gag me, I think one of the movers just <accidentally> brushed up against my butt as he carried my dresser out of my room.
LYING ON MY STRIPPED BED WAITING FOR THE MOVERS.  TIRED.  STRESSED.  ANXIOUS.  AND ALL AROUND AWKWARD (AAA).
Moving.
It's a giant CHAFE.  There is nothing kewl about the moving process.  From the moment I entered Office Depot to fetch my boxes amid the chaos that is Back to School week I knew it was going to be a long couple of days.  I was almost knocked over about 3 times by little worms adorable kids running around trying to find the newest, coolest trapper keeper binder.  If only adulthood was so easy.  I miss those days where all I had to worry about was if my mom put enough Hi-C fruit punch in my Cinderella thermus or if she cut the crust off of my pate sandwich for lunch.

Perhaps the only benefit of moving is that it forces me to go through all my shit and toss a lot of it.   I took a few photos of some items I found while I was packing and have detailed how I went about determining whether to purge or keep each item.  Please note, I didn't make these tough decisions all on my own; I had some help from my beloved bear cubs:
oh. hey guys.
Item(s) # 1 - random pieces of clothing I have had since college.  If you're a girl around my age you remember the whole "wearing scarves as sharts shirts" craze.  I remember raiding my mothers closet for her old scarves and bringing them to college fresh/soph year (I don't really know which year it was - all my years at ole miss just blended together) and my friends and I wore the shit out of them - as shirts.  Remember this post where I discussed the proper attire for a temp to wear?  Moira used to wear part of this temp outfit as a shirt.  Have a look:
MOIRA SPORTS THE ScarfShart AT THE RIPE OLD AGE OF 19

I sport the same scarf as a temp who is pushing 30! neat.
former ShartScarf
VERDICT on former ScarfSharts: KEEP 'EM.  I gotta look profesh when I send faxes, fetch coffee and answer phones!

Item(s) #2: RANDOM SHIT like journals, Toe Pick notes, notebooks, old muni passes, cell phones, temporary debit cards, etc.

a) debit cards: I lose a lot of debit cards.  If you've never lost one allow me to enlighten you.
Step 1) lose card.
Step 2) Hit up B of A.
Step 3) Fill out a form with bank teller and get a temporary card (ironically temporary card is labeled "preferred customer" which couldn't be further from the truth in my case.)
Step 4) Receive new permanent card in mail.
Step 5) Mindlessly throw temporary card aside.
Step 6) Repeat steps 1-5 about 6x's a year.
Step 7) Viola! You've become the Hansel and Gretal of temporary B of A debit cards.
I found a lot of these while I was packing up my shit. VERDICT: TOSS 'em! they're a reminder of my biggest shartcoming: FLAKINESS.  
uh yeah. i'm a preferred customer.  funny it says this bc I feel like most of the B of A employees would "prefer" it if I would stop being such a pain in their buttocks'ss's (not sure how to pluralize that word)
B) Toe Pick Notes: I found a lot of toe pick notes as i was packing.  I couldn't help but wonder what a random person who'd never read TPSF would think if he or she came across these scattered, indecipherable notes:



verdict on tpsf notes: keep 'em.  Let's face it: there are few things in my life that are as important to me as Toe Pick is.  It will be important to have these notes to show my cats kids one day.

C) OLD CELL PHONES.  I've gone through a lot of cell phones.  I found a couple of them while I was packing.  I even found my infamous blackberry pearl.  I used to remove the ball from it with a spoon to keep me from sending stupid texts to boys.  I would then give said ball to my roommate and have her hide it.  That's right, I learned how to place calls and answer my phone without the ball!  So, there's that.  VERDICT ON OLD CELL PHONES: keep 'em if not solely for the reason that they are a reminder of how far I've haven't come since the ol' bb pearl.

D) Some more random crap I found.  The following items are not special enough to have their own letter.  Enjoy these visuals:
OWL LIP GLOSS. KEEP IT. DUH.

COLLEGE PICS: keep 'em. duh. How else am I going to remember my years at ole miss? I ask that question in the most literal way possible.

CHRISTMAS CANDLE. um.
at one point in my weird life did i pick this random mancala stone up and decide that it should be mine?
toss it. :(
ITEM # 3) My grandmother's ring I thought I'd lost:  I cannot tell you how elated I was when I found this ring.  It's been missing for about 6 months.  Now I can finally pawn wear it!

ITEM(S) #4: Random clothes that hold sentimental value.  ENTER: My sequin Bieber skirt.  
KEEP BEIBER SKIRT.  OBVS. 
At the end of all this purging my roommate and I accumulated a shit ton of clothes to take to goodwill... :)

Once I'd finally packed it was time to wait for the movers.  ENTER: Juan and Mike.  They were really nice.  I mean - Mike was.  Juan didn't say much.  I don't have a car so I rode to my new place in the giant moving truck with Juan and Mike.  My friend Ryan told me this was a bad idea.  He said I could've been gang banged.

So that was awkward.
JUAN AND BIG MIKE

my VIEW FROM THE FRONT (that's what he said)
this is me wondering if I made the right decision to ride in the truck.  Oh - and notice I am wearing my grandmother's ring so I never lose it again. :(


Once I finally got all my stuff into my new apartment I was excited to begin unpacking.  But before I got to that I shot a fun little video segment explaining how I spiced up my moving boxes!  It's fun to personalize your boxes. (That's what she said.)  Please enjoy my VIDEO entitled: MOVING WITH NIGE. hope you like it.


ps.  I must make it known that my favorite moving song is Better than Ezra's "It was good livin' with you  WAHAAA!"

Happy Thursday!

xo, Nige

Monday, August 27, 2012

Toe Pick presents: Rent a Sunday Night Boyfriend!

You'll meet someone when you stop looking.

That's what everyone always says.  So last weekend the only thing I looked for was my remote control and US Magazine.  I didn't go out at all and instead watched 10 episodes of Laguna Beach: Season 1 (I'd forgotten how much Kristin Cavallari's whiny voice screaming "STE-VAAAAAN" really resonates), The Charlie Sheen, Donald Trump and Rosanne Roasts, Wet Hot American Summer (my all-time fave), season 2 of the Office and the Justin Beiber docu "Never Say Never." I also went to a hot yoga class taught by my dear friend Libby Murfey (check out her facebook page and like it by clicking here.  She's phenomenal and you seriously feel like a million bucks after her classes.)

Not being hungover today (it's Sunday as I write this) is a new, different and wonderful feeling for me.  It's also nice to not have a sore neck from headbanging all weekend.  But - I took everyone's advice and stopped looking for someone and lo and behold I am still single - which made me think: How does one find someone if they're not looking?  Isn't that contradictory?  Let's ponder that conundrum for a moment.

you know you're in trouble when K Cav is already with child and you're 3 yrs older and don't even have a steady hook-up ;(

sf: City of Lurve
I live in a city crawling with couples of all sorts.  Gay, straight, bisexual, transexual - you name it: love is definitely in the air in SF.  Lately I feel like every time I walk out of my house I am bamboozled by couples walking and talking, holding hands, necking, goosing and whispering sweet nothings to each other.  As I near the very end of my 20's I'm finding myself becoming slightly more anxious about being single forever.  FUCK.  It's not that I desperately want a boyfriend as much as I feel like I should have one at this point in my life.  I am reminded of this every time I see another couple my age on fb become engaged and/or pregnant or whenever my mom instructs me to try and be a more normal girl because "men don't like complicated, weird girls!  They want simple and normal.  End of story."  To be honest, the only time I actually want a boyfriend is on Sunday when the sun begins to set and my anxiety level the moon starts to rise.  There is something about a Sunday night that makes me feel like the Miranda Hobbs of SF. :(

But this shouldn't be news to you: if you read Toe Pick a lot you'll know how much I dread Sunday evenings. (Speaking of, check out my Sunday evening survival guide here) So tonight I had planned to hang with one of my single girlfriends, order vietnamese from AUX DELICES and watch a stupid rom-com whilst sipping a bottle of rose and picking at my split ends.  Bottom line: On Sunday evening I turn into a needy child who needs to be held/coddled and I simply can't haribo bear to be alone.  I'm restless on the day of rest.  I know - it's pathetic but it's the TROOF.
 +
+
= Sunday evening fuel

So you can imagine my jealousy astonishment when I received a text from my friend (we'll call her Penelope) that read "Sooo sorry!  I have to cancel tonight! *Felix is in town from New York just for one night.  He got a hotel room at the St. Regis and wants me to stay there with him!!! Ahhh!" (btw. Felix is a boy with whom Penelope has a sorted history - they are pretty good friends with even better benefits when they see each other).  I wasn't mad or bitter.  I was happy and excited for her.  I called her immediately to congratulate her.  Then I sat with her as she got ready, gave her outfit advice and told her to be safe in bed.  Because that's what a good friend is supposed to do.  But I couldn't help but feel a slight pang of disappointment as I realized that I would be spending my dreaded Sunday night solo watching America's Funniest Home Video's and working on Toe Pick.  Just call me Bridget motherfucking Jones.  Actaully don't.  Please, please don't. 
I don't think I would pick this over AUX DELICES imperial rolls.  Penelope sure did though.  :(
As I curled up in an awkward fetal position on my sofa and waited for my Aux Delices order for 1 I had an idea: I am going to invent a Rent-a-Sunday-Boyfriend service.  It will be a service for all single girls who are in need of companionship on a Sunday from the hours of 4pm to midnight.  I haven't sorted out the details of said service yet but I really think my idea has legs.  Right?  Now I just need to find guys willing to be pimped out as boyfriends for 8 hours every Sunday.  I know I sound like a Heidi Fleiss for women but it's not what you think: there will be no hooking up involved in my service... just good ol'  fashioned Sunday night comraderie.

RENT A SUNDAY NIGHT BOYFRIEND AND CONQUER YOUR WEEKEND SCARIES!
Boys: your duties include but are not limited to:
  • finding the best Chinese/Ethiopian/Italian (whichever food single girl prefers) delivery place in the city, ordering it and setting it up for whichever single girl you are matched with
  • making sure single girl is laughing - come prepared with dirty and offensive jokes
  • giving single girl neck massage if she is feeling tense
  • reassuring single girl that everything will be okay in the morning
  • telling single girl she looks hot even if she looks like shit
  • making sure single girl's wine glass is full at all times
  • making a chocolate cake with vanilla icing for single girl depending on what time of the month it is for her
  • laughing at single girl's jokes even if they suck
  • snuggling with single girl on the sofa.  *Hands must be kept away from breasts, areolas, etc. etc.
  • making single girl camameale tea
  • setting work clothes out for single girl for Monday morning
  • tucking single girl in and sticking around until she falls asleep
Boys: please e-mail me if you're interested in being a part of my Sunday Evening Boyfriend Rental Service at toepicksf@gmail.com!  Thanks guys.

Ok - I'm hitting the sack (that's what she said).  After all, *Felix's flight is tomorrow at 6am and I'm getting up at 5:30am to head to the St. Regis and enjoy some room service breakfast with Penelope!  Oh how I love silver linings.

Have a tantalizing day!

xo, Nige

*Felix is not his real name.  If it was, he would be a cat.

OH. Hi Felix.

PS.  (20 hours later) Thank you, Felix for booking such an early flight this morning and leaving 7 hours before your check out time.  Penelope and I had a lovely time basking in the luxuriousness of your pristine hotel suite I could never afford.  T'was a little slice of heaven with a side of an impossibly fluffy terry cloth bathroom and a dash of room service.

Enjoy these visuals of a splendid 3 hour escape from the real world:

THAT'S ME looking for a Sunday boyfriend!

that's PENELOPE!  
NOTHING BEATS HOTEL ROOM MINI BAR GUMMI BEARS
PMS.  This just in!  (It's now Monday night as I write this.)  So Jesus must have picked up on my loneliness last night because a guy who lives in NYC who I've gone on a few dates with over the past like 3 years just sent me this text today:



Not surprisingly, I bailed on meeting him.  After all, it's not Sunday!  And yes, I am still "a weird." :)

Friday, August 24, 2012

Cooking with Nige: Featuring a side of SeaHorse with a dash of Awkward

I've never gotten into cooking (remember this post about my misadventures with eggs?).  I am heavily reliant on friends, family members and the handsome young men at Subway eat fresh! on Sansome and Bush st. to make my meals for me.  Last night I decided it was high time to take the plunge and make a meal that doesn't require a microwave (to heat up my Amie's TV dinner) or scissors (to cut my Haribo Gummi bear package open).  I wanted to use a real live spatula (is that word not the coolest onomatopoeia ever?) for once.

The most confused I've been in my entire life.  Is it a curling iron of sorts? btw - this photo is shaped like an egg because eggs are a key ingredient in a lot of recipes.  And don't I not know it! 
I also figured it was about time I stopped eating out so much (that's what he said) and start acting like an adult who makes her own, sophisticated dinners.  I mean, if I ever do get married (and let's not hold our chicken breast for that one, folks) I should probably know how to make chicken and rice, at the very least.  Bwack Bwack.  I thought it'd be funny to actually film my semi-catastrophic battle in the kitchen as it's important to document all of life's "first times" (uh, or at least most of them).  So, let me get sharted by sharing with you some cooking tips I've learned through the grapevine and the ways I used them to help me make what turned out to be a really bland, tasteless delicious first meal.  Before I do that though, I will introduce you to the key players in the production of this basic, elementary dinner that I of course managed to fuck up somehow

1. Rice cooker.  Okay, I will admit it: up until like a month ago I thought this fucking thing was some kind of vase.  When I discovered it was a rice cooker I was excited to try and use it. (try being the operative word.)

Little did I know, it is important to boil the water in the vase before adding the rice to it.  I added the rice when the water was barely even luke warm which was wrong.  Very, very wrong.
RICE SOUP, ANYONE?
2. CHICKEN STRIPS.  These were easier to make then I thought.  Also, the darker pink hues in the strips inspired me put on some pink pants and paint my nails in a similar shade...so they've got that going for them - which is nice.

3. COOKING TOOLSIt is critical to groom the chicken strips as they're marinating (according to me).  First, I brushed them with some kind of glazer brush(?) which appeared to be made of horse hair.  (Also, the glazer brush doubles as a blush brush so if you ever invite a guy over for dinner you can cook and primp at the same time! Double-threat girl!)
horse hair glazer/ blush brush
there, there chicken strips...
This particular strip reminded me of a seahorse:
SEARED SEAHORSE ANYONE? ANYONE? BUELLER?
TWINZIES!!!!!!

Now that I've given you some background info I would like to invite you to watch the premiere of my first ever Toe Pick video.  I know my voice sounds like Paris Hilton's and if you make fun of me for it I will probably cry a little punch you in the funny bone.  Hopefully watching this will give you all some insight as to why I am a writer - clearly I express myself better through printed words than verbal ones :(.
Now for some tips:  
1. It is important to carefully place the unused, excess chicken strips into a Ziploc bag so as to avoid getting any raw chicken juice on anything.  I know Salmonella is like, the most effective diet ever but still - most people (present company excluded) would rather just call Jenny Craig than bear the hellish symptoms of it.
just because my sweater is pink doesn't mean my chicken should be too!
RAW
cut the chicken to ensure thorough cookage. (you better believe I just racked my brain for a "that's what she said" worthy caption here.  But it's late.  I'm too tired :()
2) WASH THOSE CLAWS: This goes hand in hand (pun intended) with tip #1.  It is imperative to wash your hands whilst cooking - especially if you're a girl who is partial to giving HJ's.  (btw, ladies: HJ's are considered to be taboo these days - so please get a handle on that... again, pun intended.)
scrub a dub dub
NOW - for the finished product... 
As I mention in the video below this photo, I added the olive for aesthetic purposes only.  I contemplated using a raspberry instead but I figured that would be awkward.  And god forbid I feature anything awkward on Toe Pick. :)
PS. The video is sideways so please rotate your computer accordingly.
vomit VIOLA.
So - who wants to come over for dinner?  Anyone?  No one?  Okay.  Cawl me.
xo, Nige
PS. Will you please "like" Toe Pick on facebook by clicking here?  I'll be your breast friend!
PMS. Also, please follow me on twitter by clicking here.
PTSD. I was being serious earlier.  Cawl me.