thehyperbalist

Soooooo the sequence of my life can forever be categorized as LBAT and LAAT: Life Before Apartment Therapy, Life After Apartment Therapy.

I have so many new people reading the blog because of our apartment-tour, and will probably retain about 3 of them. Haha life on the internet is so transitory. But to any single human being that’s new around here, I’m glad to have you.

After my enthusiastic blogpost letting my readers know that our home-tour had been featured on Apartment Therapy and to “go seeeee!” it, Maxwell Ryan, the FOUNDER AND CEO of the site, wrote a post about my post about my tour.

Just casually one of Maxwell’s ‘latest posts.’ –

And now I’m writing a post about his post about my post about my tour.

Maxwell’s name is synonymous with the site, to the degree that he does not need a last name. Like Madonna. And Mugatu. If you hear someone uttering the name “Maxwell,” you know they mean Apartment Therapy. Seeing a post he wrote, about my blogpost, and the fact that it spread smiles and belly laughs across the Apartment Therapy headquarters, was probably the single coolest and most surprising thing that’s ever happened to me. My favorite part (other than every word) was the headline: “We feature The Hyperbalist and She Almost Explodes : )” It was so sweet and ACCURATE, because that’s exactly what happened!!! If I’d written my own headline about that post it would have been: “Apartment Therapy features me and I nearly explode; smiley face.” Maxwell, you’re a headline-writer if I ever met one that I haven’t met. There is quite literally nowhere to go from here.

So that happened.

(If you don’t know how the internet works and have missed the last two links to it, read his post here:
http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/we-feature-the-hyperbalist-and-she-almost-explodes–184169)

And then Thursday was Valentine’s Day.

Alex and I both took work off and had a little DC Staycation. It started with home-made pancakes that I don’t have a picture of because sometimes I defiantly just decide to NOT photograph what I’m eating to prove that I can still do it.

Then we drove to Roosevelt Island–a teeny ‘lil “island” (please, it’s barely that. Is it surrounded on all sides by water? Yes. But it’s like 1 foot from land. It makes me laugh out loud to refer to it as an island).

So supposedly Roosevelt Island is kind of a secret in DC. Very few people have ever heard of it. I remember my brother used to go there in the evenings on summer nights with his friends and play it up like it was the coolest thing that nobody knew about. And tell me that it was haunted and I think they used to canoe or boat or swim or do something you should definitely never do in the surrounding water. It’s really neat– it’s small enough that you can walk the full circumference, and on one side you see The Kennedy Center, Georgetown Waterfront, etc. They have plaques all over the island that you are hoping tell you really fascinating facts but instead say things like “Marshlands are lands that are formed from marshes.” I’m NOT KIDDING. The most fun we had was running up to each plaque to read more things like, “Mud is often a result of local soil getting flooded.” Literally ridiculous. They were hysterical. We kept being like, “BOOOOOOOOOOORING, tell us that someone died here or that some rich patron of the island was a former alcoholic and buried his collection of maps somewhere on the island.” (Again, “ISLAND” with huge quotation marks).

In the dead-middle of the island is this weird completely-circular clearing with a totally modern cement statue erected to Roosevelt; and benches, etc. You basically just walk around.

And mimic Roosevelt’s stance, obbbbbbbbbviously.

The coolest part was finding out that there used to be a ‘mansion’ on the highest point of the island, where The Mason Family (son of George Mason i.e. George Mason University) used to vacation and spend their summers. All that’s left of the house is a few bricks, which you can actually see and are just kind of scattered about in the area where the house used to stand. It was even more fascinating when we found out John Mason and his wife had TEN children, and thought about ten little 18th century humans running around the grounds of the island in the summers and like, fishing and playing hide-and-go-seek throughout the woods in  bonnets and knee socks. And then we couldn’t stop wanting to know more about the Masons and why the house got torn down and what happened to them. It’s the historian in me, I am ADDICTED to that kinda shit. Let me tell you, the Wikipedia article on the Mason estate did NOT satisfy.

We packed turkey-avocado-sprout-cheddar sandwiches and ate them in the car after taking the footbridge back. Then we drove to Gravelly park to watch the planes take off from Reagan Airport. Between Roosevelt and Reagan we really should have saved our Valentine’s Day itinerary for President’s Day aka today. Seeing the planes take off from Gravelly Park is a very DC thing to do. You kind of can’t live here and leave without doing it. It’s totally TERRIFYING! It makes me never want to fly again. Alex loved it. Every time a plan took off he’d ask to stay for one more and I’d be like IT’S THE SAME THING EVERY TIME DUDE, SAME THING EVERY TIME. Every time it gave me a rumble in my stomach in my heart. Oohh I get shivers just thinking about how close you are to those terrifying machines. My feelings on flying are captured perfectly by Louis CK when he says YOU’RE IN A CHAIR, IN THE SKY. Like….HOW DARE YOU BE SO NONCHALANT ABOUT IT.

After Gravelly, I diverted our car to The Coffee Bar DC. I had read this article on Refinery about its opening, and figured a day off was a good time to check it out for the first time. The owner, Cait, was there (she’s so pretty) and I LOVED LOVED LOVED the vibe. LOVED it. Loved everything about the space, the blackboard behind counter, the mint green espresso machine, the landings by the window, it was very cool. I can’t wait until a friend visits from out of town and I can take them there. I got a hot chocolate that was disturbingly good and had a heart-foam perfect for instagramming, since nobody has ever instagrammed a foam heart before, least of all on Valentine’s Day.

After coffee bar we drove home and snuggled up in bed for 2 hours watching Workaholics and youtube videos, like this one of Kai singing. I’m in love with him. He sounds like Bradley Nowell and he’s clearly insane and I’ve been stalking the internet for any updates on him since his debut video, where when asked if he had a last name, he acted genuinely confused and responded with, “nah brah, I ain’t got nothin.’” He prefers to say that he is “home free” rather than homeless, and my favorite thing he says is, “I can’t call it,” both when it makes sense and doesn’t make sense. Reporters will be like “Kai, what’s next for you?”, and he just says “I can’t call it,” in his super-stoner surfer voice, which in that case makes sense. But then sometimes they’ll say, “Kai how old are you?” and he says “I can’t call it”, which like, sure, I kind of get. How old are any of us, really. I can’t really explain the whole Kai story to you if you don’t know about it, you just have to google it, but he is my favorite human ever. The other Kai highlight, or as I JUST COINED RIGHT NOW BY ACCIDENT, KAI-LIGHT, hahahha,– is when he says “Straight outta dogtown,” when asked where he came from. He’s like….part poser, part cliche, part genius, part legitimately insane, and a clear drug addict. Kai. So hot right now.

After listening to Kai’s dreamy voice, we then drove to Capitol Hill to try Hank’s Oyster Bar. My relationship with Oysters has been one of the more confusing relationships in my life. I’ve never been so vehemently, violently, aggressively, adamantly positive about hating something with the fire of every ounce of hyperbole and enthusiasm my body has; and then… after deciding I had the grace to try them yet again (knowing how much I despised them), finding myself head over heels in love to the point of emotional addiction with financial consequences. I was the kind of person, who, before New Year’s Eve of this year, thought people were sociopaths who liked oysters. It was something I was certain I’d go to the grave with. The feeling of “what the fuck is wrong with you if you enjoy oysters.” It’s a slimy, smelly, fishy-tasting, disgusting, gross, vile, amorphous, gelatinous, alien-like specimen. And I would try them too. Alex, my friends who eat them, would beg me to try them and I WOULD. I gave oysters a shot maybe 8 individual times and every time I was affirmed that I was normal and anyone who eats oysters is mentally ill.

But then on New Years Eve, a handsome spritely gentleman was shucking oysters and something about the evening intoxicated me to their appeal, and I walked RIGHT UP to said shucker and voluntarily said “you know what? Maybe the last 8 attempts at oysters have not solidified my feelings. LET ME TRY WHAT YOU’RE SHUCKING.” And I ate one, and it was pure magic in my mouth, and then ate like 400 more, and then the shucker got tired of shucking and I asked Alex to shuck for me and he doesn’t know how and whined that “it’s really hard to shuck,” (not to mention sort of dangerous?) so then I tried to coerce the shucker into shucking more but he wanted to actually enjoy his party that he was hosting and so I stared into a sink full of unshucked oysters that I could never have because New Year’s Eve at 1 a.m. in the cold at an outdoor sink was not when Alina Gonzalez was going to attempt to shuck an oyster for the first time and so now I wake up wanting oysters for breakfast and lunch and dinner and they’re really fucking expensive. All I ever want are 4 dozen oysters, minimum. I’m an oyster whore. East Coat, West Coast, I’m all up on that shit. I want to bathe in oysters. Mignonette sauce? That shit is my JAMMMMMMMMMMMM. Lemon, mignonette–what world was I living in when oysters weren’t my favorite food of all time? I shudder.

Hank’s Oyster Bar was AWESOME. WE HAD THE BEST TIME. It’s going to be a regular haunt. We sat right at the bar with Gina, who apparently like owns the place and is a mixologist extraordinaire on the DC scene. She’d made a special drink menu for the evening named after famous couples who fight; like Peg and Al Bundy. The Al Bundy was orgasmically good– it had gin, beer, grape juice made from like…vine-ripened grapes straight from Italy and aged in a barrel for 5 years or something ridiculous, citrus, and club soda. I don’t like mixed drinks but I’d have an Al Bundy every day. We had 2 dozen oysters (the horror) and then we went next door to We The Pizza to get pizza since 2 dozen oysters is like eating air. As is 4 dozen oysters. Let’s face it oysters don’t keep anyone full and take half your spending money for a given pay period but it’s fine. We The Pizza and its next-door-neighbor-burger-joint Good Stuff Eatery are two very famous places owned/started by Spike Mendelsohn, who was a Top Chef Star. I think he won. So he was the Top Chef for the show for that given year. As Alex very astutely pointed out while we observed the “Press Wall,” Spike owns no less than 5 different fedoras. In various features from Washington Post to New York Times, bro is rocking a distinctly different Fedora.

See below, in photos I saved to my desktop as “Spike Fedora 1-5″:

And that was our Valentine’s Day!

Short List:

• Roosevelt Island
• Gravelly Park
• The Coffee Bar
• Hank’s Oyster Bar
• We The Pizza

A very DC kinda Valentine’s Day.

Next up…..how we spent our weekend!

Our place is *FIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNALLY* almost “done.” A year and 2 months after moving in. That’s usually how it goes. We’ve been filling in the details…..a sconce here; a succulent there; a pair of portraits for the gaping wall space you just never filled; a magnetic knife rack; the perfect sleek black-and-gold candle holders for taper candles. Small deets.

One of these days I’ll do a comprehensive tour.

I’m not really feeling in a narrative mood, so I’ll bullet point some things since there’s no pressure for my thoughts to be remotely understandable that way. Just rapid fire bullet points. Easy.

• We saw Zero Dark Thirty. Very good. Hashtag–America.

• The inauguration came and went in our capital city. It’s obnoxiously fun living in the nation’s capital during inauguration time. Even though I do nothing social, don’t leave the house, and watch everything on TV because inaugurations take place in the month of January, a.k.a. the month that is on repeat in Hell. When you’re evil, and you end up in Hell, it’s nothing but January on repeat, every month, forever. January 31st at midnight becomes January 1st forever. But I have so much fun with the hype and excitement and energy….that I’m absorbing via twitter, instagram, and facebook; because I literally don’t leave my house. All weekend I was refreshing my feed, getting so excited by other people’s activities– their spotting of celebs in town at the airport; their having drinks at the historic downtown-DC hotels like The Jefferson and The Mayflower; their innagural ball gowns because they’re actually doing things like going to inaugural balls.  You legitimately could not pay me cash to put on a dress, and step outside in the cold, to like……dance songs and celebrate America. BUT I’M REALLY EXCITED by your doing of those activities. Literally all weekend, Alex and I cozied up and like…drank hot chocolate and watched Workaholics and Felicity, and lit candles and read books and watched the news, and cooked delicious cozy meals, in flannel pajama pants while everyone that I know took part in the festivities– and the sheer knowledge that so much stuff was happening nearby, was exciting and energetic. Just knowing that right outside our door, people from all over the country are in town, drinking, toasting, visiting, taking pictures. So many peeps were posting instagrams of the crowds and parade and I was stimulated by it but………………..we’ve been there done that. 4 years ago my mom’s friend had an extra ticket and I would have rather ended my life than wait in the cold to attend the inauguration in person, but I kept thinking “this is historic…first black President….being sworn in….you’re alive..you’re here…you live in this city…you have a chance to go….you’ll be embarrassed one day if you tell your kids you DIDN’T go…do it..go”, and I did, and I was in up and in line and waiting at 4:30 am, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I was in more layers than ANYONE HAS EVER BEEN IN–EVER–but it did nothing- it was like the coldest day in 400 years, and we waited for 6 hours, and it was painfully disorganized and we barely got in and almost got trampled/died and by the time they let us through the gate the ceremony was like 2 hours in and I never got close to seeing him and  then when it was over, I almost died again in the crowds, and every street forEVER was blocked off and there was no car traffic that was allowed for a radius of like 40 miles so I couldn’t get picked up or get a cab, and the wait for the metro was like 4 years– literally in 2013 people are still getting on the metro from the wait in 2009–and so I had to walk, in the cold, from Constitution Avenue to BETHESDA, and when I got home, I felt like Moses and the fucking abrahamites on the trek in the desert or whatever that shit was, I was like looking for manna to fall down from the sky, I was delirious, slept for like 5 days, and believe that the experience took 11 good years off of my life. The sheer cold and wait– when I die at 70 instead of 80, it’s because I went to the inauguration in 2009. I don’t even look back on it nostalgically. I’m not happy to be able to say “I was there.” I’m like…it was 0 degrees and a crowd of millions, THE FUCK were you thinking going to that shit. So I did not make that mistake in 2013, but I did feel the excitement radiating through my city and was proud to be living here.

• We went to Ikea and are in love with the way a $13.99 magnetic knife strip can transform a kitchen.

• I changed my clothing rack to ONLY house items that are black and shades of turquoise/green (of which I have a lot).

• It looks so much more mature and neutral and I love it. The predominant colors in our life are white, black, grey, tan, and shades of greeny-blue/turquoise. With lots of wood, texture, graphical touches, and warmth, and a lil’ bit of glamor, and bordering on bohemian, but not quite. Our whole dining/living room has either big pieces or tiny hints of the same overall scheme, so the rooms really work/make sense together.

As my friend Anna says, the rooms “talk to one another,” which she says is very nice. It’s totally true. They’re not entirely the same–the living room has more saturated color and the bedroom is more white/black/neutral;  but they talk to each other.  It’s not about matching– uh……I couldn’t ‘match’ things if I tried, or about consciously only buying pieces of the same color scheme (at least in my opinion….because it’s happened naturally), it’s simply about the overall rooms….talking to one another. I can’t explain it any other way. The rooms are friends. Actually that’s what she says too– “it’s nice that these rooms are friends.  It’s good when that’s the case.” I don’t think the intent is to set out to enforce that that occurs…I think her observation is that it’s ‘nice’ when it in fact happens to turn out that way, which it has. And probably a good sign that you’re making the right purchases that reflect your overall taste and preferences and work well with another. Our bedroom, living room, and dining room all talk to each other guys. No drama.

{Blurry, but you can see the turquoise kilim rug, side table with the green sculptural lamp, etceteraaaa}

• Obsessed with Friday nights that entail cheese plates, wine, candles, music, and good conversation with friends. It’s the only way I ever want to spend Friday night.

I’m doing a post on building a cheese plate because I’m that into cheese these days.

That’s kind of all I’ve got. I’ve been trying to aggressively stick to exercising since I haven’t stuck to it in 8 years. I’ve made it to week THREE of the Couch to 5k running plan but am already ready to give up. Today I had to run for 3 straight minutes–twice–(followed by walking for 3 minutes) and I barely succeeded. My work-out stamina is literally confusingly low. Like even with having not worked out in 8 years. I will do classes and I am the SINGLE person who can’t fulfill the exercise at hand. Like whether it’s a barre3 class or a pilates class or yoga class, I am literally the sole person who stops 3 seconds into the exercise to break/breathe and everyone else just does it. Like you know when the instructor is like “okay guys we’re going to hold this for 20 seconds, here we go,” I have to STOP at second two; and EVERY. FUCKING. PERSON. IN. THE. ENTIRE. FUCKING. CLASS. MAKES. IT. And there are like, out of shape MOMS in the class. Like 50 year olds. I am baffled. I think there is something legitimately wrong with me. Other than fibromyalgia. I literally can’t hold poses. My muscles get so tired that it’s not about “push yourself! “you can do it!” it’s like….I am physically uanble to to do it. I have to lie down and break 6 times in the 20 seconds that everyone else was holding the pose. NO ONE. ELSE. STOPS. AND BREAKS. NOT ONE PERSON. NO ONE. And not everyone looks like a professional athlete or even someone who works out regularly. It’s not like, oh I’m surrounded by the fittest toned-est people so that’s why. No. It’s just normal humans. BUT THEY’RE ALL MANAGING TO MAKE IT THROUGH THE PARTICULAR POSE AT HAND. So I’m kind of legitimately confused. I don’t think not having exercised for a decade explains it. Because I’m like…young and even though it’s been that long since I’ve exercised, I’m not sedentary. I walk places and do things on a daily basis. And everyone else in the class looks like they haven’t worked out in 8 years too. Or longer. SO HOW COME THEY’RE ALL ABLE TO MAINTAIN THE REPETITIONS? It’s out of a movie. I want to put a hidden camera on my head and show you what it’s like. EVERYONE makes it but me. ALL OTHER 25 PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FLABBY POST MENOPAUSAL WOMEN. But I guess I’ll just keep going….and seeing if something changes. Even though………it never does.

Now we’re about to try a place we’ve never been to in Mount Pleasant– a pizza joint called Radius. Excited. It’s a double date. I love double dates with other city couples who you have things in common with. The best.

HAPPY WEEKEND!!!

                                          

2012 was a GREAT year. Super super great. So MUCH better than 2011 that it’s kind of embarrassing for 2011.

In January, Alex and I made New Year’s Resolutions, and bucked down and did nothing but save $$ (by eating black beans every night) and look forward to our February trip to LA.

In February, we went to LA. It was an extremely short trip, like 2 nights 3 days, to be on the west coast, but 4 hours there does enough for my wintertime soul. My favorite recap from each day there was day three, when we went to Venice, spent time with my cousin, shopped at Blue Planet, and saw Tate Donovan.

While there, I got my hair done by Denis, we went to The Getty, and we drove to Malibu where I had what I thought was the best Pina Colada of my life at a classicly-named oceanside restaurant: MOONSHADOWS. For some reason, that name reminds me of the ’80′s and somewhere that like, Patrick Swayze would have eaten. (It was the best pina colada of my life to date–until the Pina Colada at El Miarsol in Palm Springs unseated it in December).

In March, we celebrated my 26th birthday with an indoor ‘summer picnic’ theme since I hate winter so much. We served hot dogs, pop corn, soda, citrus-infused water, and potato chips.

I learned that, despite everything I thought/wrote, I in fact don’t like celebrating my own birthday at home. It’s anticlimactic and depressing, when the guests leave and you’re left with 40 million dishes, a messy house, and all you have to do is walk 2 feet to your own bedroom. It’s not enough of a change. It’s like “hey guys thanks for coming woo hoo it’s my birthday!” and then………you walk 1 foot into your bedroom and put on pajamas. Versus like, getting schwasted at some awesome fun restaurant/bar/ANY VENUE THAT ISN’T YOUR HOUSE, and then getting into a drunken cab (or Uber) and strolling into your apartment building schwasted and passing out face-first on your bed with your clothes on and keys in your hand. THAT’S THE WAY TO DO A BIRTHDAY AM I RIGHT?!?!! EH EH? So this year, 27, ain’t gon’ be NEAR home. I think I want to have a small group to dinner at Chez Billy. WE’LL SEE.

In April, my super-cool Cuban family from my Miami (my awesome cousin and his awesome parents, my aunt and uncle), came to the DC area to visit colleges for him. We had the BEST weekend, having drinks on the W hotel rooftop, eating dinner at The Hamilton, going to The Arboretum, eating by the wharf in Baltimore, and sharing stories. Alex took approximately 12 Tequila shots with my uncle, so he was accepted into the family.

(Gaby, my cousin, and I at P.O.V. on the top of the W hotel, in my floral denim that I wore all Spring)

In May, we celebrated Alex’s birthday by then going down to Miami to stay with/see that very same family! We got burned to a crisp, saw a Rusko concert where we realized just how very old we are (every single person was 14 and naked), and ate/drank a LOT.

(my colorful Mexican shorts that I picked up from Blue Planet when we were in Venice in February)

Even better, we got to see my GIRRRRRRRL miss Stepahnie St. Louis, my Dartmouth roomie and fellow Cuban.

She took us to the MOST incredible outdoor garden, where we spent like 2 hours wandering and talking, where you got to pose by a giant red rose sculpture (one of like 70) and see the coolest swamps and ponds and iguanas and lizards and flowers and landscaping, just hangin’ out right there in front of your face.

CLASSIC:

Love that girl sooooo much. Not living in the same city as your friends is truly tragic.

In June we discovered Beach Bar, had my entire group of friends + their boyfriends over for a Bagel Brunch, ate summer salads on our roof, went to a play, rented bikes and took a looooong ride to Georgetown, I took a make-up class and spent the day with Meg showing her “my DC”; we spent lots of time at my friend Cait’s pool, stumbled upon the Gay Pride Parade, got an epic new couch, tried Estadio with friends from out of town, and tried Sundevich/subsequently ate at Sundevich 100 times.  Whew, what a month! Loved that month, good month. OF COURSE I DID/IT WAS– IT’S JUNE. JUNE IS MY FAVORITE MONTH. June is the month I’ve always known I’ll get married in because it’s always THE FUNNEST MONTH. June is never bad. I. LOVE. JUNE. ALL TIME FAVORITE.

(me and Alex’s best friends at Beach Bar)

(grab-your-glass station for Bagel Brunch)

(Sparkly name tags for the mimosa glasses at Bagel Brunch)

(My date outfit for the play we saw– a printed snakeskin-looking Wren dress that I got on crazy sale from Style Etoile)

In July I visited my friend Kristin in New York City and had the best time; Alex and I visited Philadelphia for the first time ever; “MY DC” went up on Meg’s blog; and Alex and I went to the opening pop-up of Union Market and rearranged the shit out of our apartment.

(The best waffle of my life, at Cafe Gitane with Kristin)

(Philadelphia)

(MY DC)

(photobooth memory from Union Market)

(rearranging our apartment)

In August, the single best thing of the year happened (other than our health and being able to celebrate two more birthdays together and  the health and happiness of all our friends and family blah blah) — my friend came home over and with her genius eye, we rearranged our entire apartment together. The before-after transformation was unreal/life-changing.

In August we also went up to Boston to visit Alex’s family, then to Portland/Bowdoin so I could see his college campus, and to Hanover/Dartmouth so he could see mine, and on to his family’s family reunion in Hyannisport (where Taylor Swift was staying with her Kennedy boyfriend the entire time).

(on the very pier where Tay would be photographed by many a paparazzi)

(The Dartmouth Green)

In August I also unintentionally wrote a rant about how 50 Shades of Grey made me want to jump off of a bridge.

In September, I wrote an epic post about happiness and how blissfully happy I am at this stage in my life. Apparently, it was the SINGLE post I wrote the month of September since it pretty much covered everything ever.

In September, my college roommate and bff Carolina also came to visit from Puerto Rico. We ate, drank, danced, talked, shopped, and ignored sleep. The pictures speak for themselves. We are trouble together. She’s like my little Latina mini-partner-in-crime. She’s so cute. I just want to squeeze her. I’m like 5 feet taller than her lololz

In October, I made intentions for the season of Fall, and rearranged the house some more.

We celebrated Halloween with friends. We refused to spend a cent on costumes, so at the last minute I decided to be “The 90′s” and wore everything 90′s I could find– a BENETON cotton minidress, combat boots, a flannel tied around my waste, a backpack, dark vampy nails, and bang-wisps.

In October, we made it out to Old Luckett’s Virginia and found this BADASS cow skull to add to our family! GOD I LOVE IT:

In October at Old Luckett’s we also found our ‘lil ghost pumpkins, that lived in our house until the day before our trip to Palm Springs when I finally said, “that’ll do, ghost pumpks, that’ll do,” and tossed them out. Getting ghost pumpkins from Old Luckett’s will definitely be a Halloween tradition for so long as we’re in DC. I really didn’t want to throw them out but resigned to the fact that I couldn’t ring in 2013 with ghost pumpkins in our house still.

In November, I wrote about how spending 19 hours a day on the internet can lead to cool new career opportunities, and celebrated the birthday of my 3 best friends who ALL have November birthdays.

(Blogging for DL1961, the jeans I fell in love with in June)

In November I also experienced my first Black Friday ever, and got some AMAAAAAAZING scores, like my favorite, this Mickey sweatshirt–

And, most excitingly of all, I was photographed by Marie Claire for the January Issue:

In December….well December was BATSHIT, insane, crazy. Nothing’s ever gone by quicker, and it was full of frantic work, errands, and prep for our EPIC Palm Springs trip. We spent New Year’s Eve with new friends and had the time of our LIVES dancing and conversatin’

I wore this:

Except with make-up, like this:

Dress closer-ups:

Overall HIGHLIGHTS OF the Year

• Being featured in Marie Claire on “what I love about me”
• Being featured in a Covergirl-backed feature on Refinery about what I like to wear for a night out on the town
• Publishing a personal story for Refinery on what I love the most in my fashion/beauty life
• Writing 97 stories for Refinery (which averages to about 8 a month!) And it’s my second job. So I’m proud of THAT (It was only around for 1 month of 2011, when it launched in DC, so 2012 is really where all that work happened)
• Being featured on Meg’s blog and getting to know her better (a GEM)
• GETTING HIRED TO BLOG FOR DL1961–a denim company that had become my favorite denim company before working for them became an opportunity that I went for. Here’s a post, my latest post, from December, that you probably haven’t seen (
  http://blog.dl1961.com/index.php/2012/12/secret-spots/
  ) that we shot at The Arboretum
• Visiting ALL of the places we’d resolved to visit (Baltimore, Old Luckett’s, Miami, Hanover/Dartmouth, Portland/Bowdoin, and Philly); and seeing my cousin Gaby when he visited DC and then we visited Miami; and seeing my cousin Katherine out in Venice when we went to LA; and going to LA period
• Finally getting a handle on finances, and being able to save $2,000.00
• Making new incredible friends that we’ll have for life
• Celebrating two years with Alex
• And, getting to know his side of his family better, first with the reunion in August and then spending Christmas with them

Overall, we spent a LOTTA great time with friends:

And rearranged the apartment a LOT:

(I will love that llama rug to the ends of the earth, for all eternity, amen)

Rearranged the closet a bunch:

Had breakfast in bed:

I got into baking:

Some of my fave outfits:

And took some great fuckin’ instagrams:

And took a lotta packing photos as I packed for trips in general:

And…………………………..

ORGANIZED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (A POST I STILL HAVE TO WRITE):

Organization is my NUMBER ONE resolution for 2013.

Along with fitness.

I’m so original.

THAT’S ALL!!!!! HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY LOOK-BACK AT 2012 AND I LOOK FORWARD TO THE MAGICAL THINGS THAT ARE GOING TO HAPPEN IN 2013.

13 is a LUCKY number ya’ll, forget that shit about the haunted 13th floor and Friday the 13th. LUCKY. NUMBER. 13. IT’S GOING TO BE SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO GOOD I CAN FEEL IT.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU AND YOURS

Now I need to get out of bed (it’s 2 pm, I’ve been writing this blogpost since 10); change into human clothes, clean the bagel crumbs out of the bed (ate a bagel with cream cheese in bed as I wrote this), make the bed, do 4700 loads of a laundry, get my life together, shower, and WATCH THE REDSKINS GAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LETS.

GO.