Recently I have been seeing a lot of women rocking the shit out of Ombré hair, and I couldn’t help but want to jump on that train. 

For those of you who are slightly unaware of this new trend, Ombré is just a fancy way of describing anything that starts out dark and gradually gets lighter. Of course this seemed absolutely exciting to me, like all of my favorite fashion statements this one can be slightly underrated.

Have you ever seen a girl with hair bleached so light it almost looks white, far beyond any hopes of her hair being healthy. She is overdue for a hair appointment, and she lets her dark brown roots come in. That is how most people imagine Ombré hair, and they are kind of right. It is exactly the sort of trashy, heroin chic bullshit I just eat up.

I decided to try color my hair at home, being the control freak I am. Naturally, I asked for a little help from my roommate, an extra set of eyes is all to important for making absolute sure my hair won’t get all tiger striped. We went to the drug store to pick up two boxes of hair dye (You can never be too safe) and some sour patch kids for a little sugar rush. My hair was already dark brown, so we simply applied color starting at the tips, and worked our way up. We used a toothbrush to blend the color in, what with being such classy ladies and all. The brush really was helpful with blending in the line where brown meets gold-ish blond. Gradually changing and getting lighter, instead of looking so defined and harsh.

Boom, Simple and ghetto style. We got it done, and I am completely pleased with the outcome.

ImagePlease excuse the horrific lighting // quality of this photo. I blame cell phones.

Oh Internet, It feels so good to be back in your loving embrace once again.

It looks as though my blog has been in hiatus; or I’ve just been living under a rock.
But never fret, this is a very unlikely truth.

What was the cause of this much too long break you ask? Well, one or two, or fifty things.

1. I’m an incredibly poor student living off of cheap oriental noodles, what makes you think I can afford a little wifi?

2. I’ve been toying with the idea of going Internet free for a while. It’s right there on my list next to  going on a raw food diet, saving Amur leopards from extinction, and having utterly no carbon footprint… Just the usual to-do list, really.

Taking the poor student thing into account, it makes my unrealistic idea become something I was sort of thrown into. Naturally I did the library thing for a bit, but in all seriousness, library’s are for borrowing old literary masterpieces, not bitching on the internet. It didn’t feel right complaining about the power walking stroller moms ordering at my favorite cafe, harassing the Barista and demanding ridiculously overly sugary drinks they didn’t even serve. I couldn’t do it, not only because the smell of old books surrounding me made me cheerful, mostly because I only had 30 minutes to bitch.
Coffee shops are good too, sometimes. After awhile, a girl can only spend so much time in coffee shops hogging up all of the free wi-fi before she starts to feel like it has become her third home, like an old spinster.

Now its time for the tiniest glimpse of the point that I’m trying to make… I’ve got internet! Shit yeah!

Ps. It’s 10 degrees out, I have a feeling I’m about to go into hibernation.

They say we are all doomed to turn into our mothers; am I turning into my grandmother?

Truthfully the woman I’m referring to isn’t exactly my grandmother, she’s my great-aunt, we simply always call her auntie.  But she played the vital role of grandmother in my eyes, and thus, I always thought of her as one. Hell, my whole family mixes up the proper names, second cousins twice removed become simply cousins, or cousin who are ancient dinosaurs morph into aunts/uncles. Just the other day I was sitting at Noodlecat “Cleveland’s Ramenhouse & Steam Bun Emporium” and I realized something as I was eating the shit out of my Tempura Soba Dori, I was dressed exactly as my auntie would have dressed, and her lady like dinner manners have completely consumed my being.

Mmm, Noodlecat puts heart’s in my eyes.

 I was wearing her classic look; high-waisted jeans, and a striped dress shirt tied right above the pants. Although she never wore jeans, only dress pants, and would rather wear a nice pair of loafers than fancy lady high heels, I looked like a much younger version of her. The complexity is much more than simply the way I dress, it’s the things I’m fond of, the people I’ve befriended, the men I find attractive. It’s all her, maybe her in the 40’s, but her taste all the same. She wasn’t exactly the ideal grandmother figure for everyone, she was extraordinarily proper and judgemental, not all love and sweet thoughts all the time. But she was fucking great, she let me watch pretty woman with her, she had the most magical backyard, and she introduced me coffee at the age of 9. I waited impatiently on the bar stool and couldn’t hide my excitement as she set a flowery teacup on the counter for me, but before I could have a sip she needed to complete it with a chocolate wafer stick. So I tried it, I thought it was the most horrid thing and wanted to spit it out at once, but I didn’t. I knew that coffee was for sophisticated ladies and that’s what I wanted to be, that’s what my aunt was. Of course now I’m a complete slave to espresso all thanks to this woman.

I catch myself using her catch phrases rather often, it’s like major deja vu. She says things full of ridiculousness, such as “oh heavens!” you know, the adorable things old ladies ought to say.

So even if I’m not an exact copy, I’m actually quite content with being a smidge like her.

For the first time ever in my life, I will be flying alone, and to be quite honest I’m sort of terrified. I’ll be flying out of Cleveland, transferring in Chicago, and ending in Minneapolis on the 27th. I want to fuck it up right, wait no I don’t want to fuck it up at all! Sadly the possibilities of me getting lost or ending up being too immersed in a book and missing my flight are too likely the outcome I shall see. What if my cat sneaks into my luggage and jumps out while we’re in the air or something, this is just the kind of ridiculousness my dreams are made of. Okay, okay, I realize these are childlike fears and I’ll most likely have a rather pleasant experience. Now about that whole packing thing….


                                      Come on, this is a completely rational fear, guys.

It’s time to put on my big girl panties and let this one go, If I’m about to live in a city 16 hours away from everything I know I better not let these silly girlish fears consume me. All my of belongings have to fit into two checked bags, a carry on, and a purse. Furniture will obviously be bought from ikea that’s literally a 15 minute drive from the new loft, along with various adorable things ikea sells that I don’t really need. Here’s my list of things I want to bring, (knocking off clothes/shoes/makeup/other girly products) but I am on the edge of saying no to a few of them….

  1. Wooden Teal Owl Piggy Bank. (Who else to hold my pennies?)
  2. Three Bamboo Shoots (Come on, they are good luck)
  3. Acoustic Guitar (Fulfilling my musical needs)
  4. iPad2 (Reasons quite obvious)
  5. Sewing Machine (Creative needs/awesomeness)
  6. Paintings/Photographs (Asti Cinzano/art I made)
  7. Awesome Medieval-Esc Cross (Need I say more?)
  8. Roller Skates (The hottest thing with 8 wheels)
  9. Bronze Crab Ash Tray (The claws serve as cigarette holders)
  10. Books, Books, And More Books. (Word nerd)

Looking over this list I’ve realized a few things, firstly that I am attached to the strangest of things, and secondly that none of this shit is going to travel well… Oh, minus the iPad, that thing is practically weightless. So, I’ve rather reluctantly came to the conclusion that even half of my list won’t be fitting into a few bags and travelign with me.  

The Owl Bank is coming with me, I just have to remember to cash all my pennies in at CoinStar before boarding the plane. It completely counts as a necessity, plus it’s kind of the cutest of all cuteness. I mean if you show me a more adorable kick ass piggy bank I’ll give  you 100$. Except not really, I’m poor and moving.

Bamboo Sorry I’m not sorry, you’re gonna have to keep someone else lucky. Guitar is simply going to have to wait until I visit for holidays, along with the books/sewing machine/paintings. Ipad2 will conveniently fit into my backpack, thanks for being tiny apple products! Cross thing oh how I long to bring you, but it’s not me it’s you, you’ll understand. If I bring you, I’ll either seem like some sort of over the top christian whack job,  or I’ll seem like I’m trying be the next Van Helsing and slay the shit out of some vampires. Either way, not too sure how security would feel about you.

Roller Skates I could never dream of leaving you behind, even when you give me horrendous bruises, I’d never tear up the streets with anyone else.


Ash Tray, you’re a crab, that’s awesome, but I don’t smoke, that’s also awesome. You’re staying in Ohio, goodbye. Books will be divided into most important and least important, I’ll take about 5 of you on the flight, the rest will have to wait for the holidays.

Oh, look at that, I just resolved quite a few of my irrational fears and tore my list up. Now it’s time to not so patiently await my flight away from Ohio.

The Black Keys are a kick you in the teeth rock group from Akron, Ohio. With being a Cleveland native and all I have been a faithful fan since 2001 when the band was formed, and although I have never formally met the members, I know various people who grew up with these dudes.

Remember Aha Shake Heartbreak, by Kings of Leon? Released in 2005, this album was their very best in my humble opinion. I’m not really one who follows the silly steps of finding a band, hating when they sell out, then on to the next one, I simply find that older tends to sound better. When people think Kings of Leon they think of sex on fire and all their radio hits, although I must admit, sitting on my porch with a slice of apple pie listening to Back Down South does sound quite marvelous, it’s still nothing compared to their older songs. I think The Black Keys and Kings of Leon are completely and utterly different, but alike in the way that they are both remarkably brilliant in the early stuff.

My point is, when a band’s music progresses it tends to be good, but if you look back to their first few albums, it tends to be great.

Listen to this now; thank me later.

I’ve been a coffee enthusiast my whole life, it kind of runs in the family.

Prepare for a little barista drama. (Note, this is a pre-Minneapolis post. I am in Cleveland for a few more weeks) Working at a coffee shop (City Roast) located in the Westside Market (Origins of the market date back to 1840. It is Cleveland’s oldest publicly owned market) has only helped my coffee snobbery grow. I am the first to admit that I am quite critical, but I’ve never really thought to criticize someone based on their favorite coffee drinks. Coffee is the trendy thing to drink, coffee shops are the trendy place to be, and barista’s have been enjoying the tips received by these faithful trend followers. So naturally, we try are very best to be understanding. It’s become rather apparent how coffee shops have become a sort of “pre-bar” hangout for anyone who isn’t legal, and that’s completely fine, better there than getting thrown out of some sleazy bar, right?

But here’s the tragedy, when these people get coffee they order some inhumanly sweet blended concoction that hardly even resembles coffee anymore, the two shots of espresso are overthrown by 6 shots of chocolate and filled to the top with half&half. I’ve been observing with my co-workers that it isn’t simply the pre-bar kids ordering these drinks, it’s everyone. To be quite frank, they are delicious! However, they are delicious milkshakes, and they are for drinking in moderation. This shouldn’t be ones “fuck I didn’t have time to make coffee this morning” quick coffee stop drink. Not for everyday, Yuck! How does one drink these calorie packed things and not end up morbidly obese or in sugar coma? Like I said, they are delicious girly fru-fru dirty secret drinks of wonder, to be had on occasion guys!

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