I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
Remember when I used to post iPhone pictures from my life about once a week? I did it for awhile before I seriously pondered whether I was cool enough to subject the masses to it. A bag of potatoes would roll its eyes - all of them - at some of the things I photograph.
Some days I wish I could dress like this.
The marshmallow outfit, I mean. I occasionally dress like the dad.
It’s now 23 degrees out, whereas two days ago I took these pictures:
My mom crocheted two scarves for me for Christmas and is working on one now for TBID. Meanwhile, I cannot sew on a button.
Howdy.
I made it back to Texas in one piece and two carry-ons. My rescheduled Saturday flight to North Carolina allowed me to fly stand-by on two others to Dallas and Corpus Christi. There were no long layovers after all. But I did hang out in Texas in a wool sweater that reads “I Heart Your Rosy Cheeks.” (I also heart air conditioning and sought it out, as my cheeks were beyond rosy and just about desiccated).
Some people consider the movies an escape from reality, but I know better. The best films are those that suck you in and make you feel real anger, grief, or camaraderie with the characters. Personally relating to on-screen events helps, but isn’t necessary. I can always connect someone I’ve known to characters, however loosely. The most important thing is not being able to tune out. That’s how I know I’ve found a good movie for me.
I’d like to think someone left this balloon on the subway in case someone else was having a bad day.
Since seeing the CEO of my company shimmy and thrust his pelvis to “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”(which did indeed invigorate me before I left the holiday party), I am officially on vacation. I had to take a lot of time off, because I kind of forgot to use my days and had no desire to spend a lot of money on trips. That is what 2009 must be about - I want to go on trips. Not the guilt or head or power kind.
The best thing you could possibly fit on one of those small Post-It notes.
Does anyone know that horrible song called something like “Christmas, Where Are You?” It’s probably playing at your local slow-paced pharmacy right now. Basically, it’s about this woman with exactly four brain cells who is looking for Christmas, but can’t seem to find it. She starts just outright asking the holiday where it is, hence the title.
