Cupcake McFrosticles

Last week, I thought I would be productive and change my name officially after 5 months of marriage. It’s surprising how easy it is to do. No one questions your sanity, your motives or your name (and it’s FREE!)

I really considered changing it to something involving cupcakes and She-Ra right there on the spot. The only thing stopping me was all the subsequent paperwork I would have to complete to do so: taxes, bank accounts, etc.

With common sense dominating the greater part of my morning, I changed only my last name to include a hyphen and my new married name. And keep in mind, when I say common sense, I mean, there has to be a grander way to shame my whole family. A social security card isn’t one of them.

Regardless of practical revenge grounding my name musings, I walk up to the counter, paperwork in hand, and promptly pass the clerk my Living Social cupcake coupon.

D’OH!

It’s soon apparent that I need to clean my purse, and my Id is sabotaging any efforts from my Super Ego to retain some level of normalcy. Luckily, I DID have the correct paperwork in hand, but I still felt a fool. A cupcake lovin’, disorganized fool. Luckily still, they let me change my name regardless of my mental level of output for the day.

So, Social Security Office, thank you.

Sincerely,
Princess of Cupcake-Power

Whew.

Is it really November? I think I need a slower calendar.
I’ve been noticeably absent for the past several weeks, but with good reason.

I got hitched! Graeme and I tied the knot on September 26, at the Stillwell House. 13 months of planning, two dresses, and one bridezilla moment later I made it down the aisle!

I heard over and over from friends and family, to really enjoy the day, because it flies by so quickly. And it’s true.

However, I was able to enjoy every fleeting second of it. From the moment I woke up (not from an eye punch) to the moment I placed my weary made-up face and false goopy eyelashes on that soft pillow and fell asleep, I relished every moment.

We just received the photos this week, so once I have a moment to sort through all the double-chins (mine), half-closed eyes (mine) and awkward, off-camera glances (again, mine), I’ll be sure to post them to my flickr account.

So far, married life is grand and nothing has changed except for the amount of metal I carry on my finger 9 hours of the day.

And if you ask me when we’re having babies, please understand the nature of my response in advance. It’s just the look of pain I give each time an ovary cringes.

I can obliterate zombie gremlins with the flick of my wrist and green pearlescent dice.

A few months ago, I finally gave into the dark-side and joined a guild upon the invitation of my friend, Larry. He read my post about D&D, and invited me to join his group. Let me just say – this ish is complex.

Books.
Origins.
Skills.
Religions.
Alliances.
Names.
Weapons.
Figurines.
Multipliers.

This is definitely a sub-culture I had a lot to learn about. But rather than become overwhelmed by tasks, I gave into my girly tendencies and elected to engage in arts and crafts.

I was so excited to paint my character, I researched painting techniques, shopped for colors, and tested brushes. She finally arrived and I spent several days painting two pewter inches of my Dragonbourne Sorceress. I deliberated color choices and the fashionable appeal of my character’s garments. I also discovered lilac and primrose are the perfect complement to blazing orange. Additionally, these colors help in defeating bosses.

I can prove it.

During this time, I probably should have been studying how to actually play the game, but I’ve never been one to turn down the opportunity to play with a feather collar. You might call me a dork and I might attempt to bludgeon you with my pasty, noodle-like arms. However, you have to admit – Tyrnea kicks a little posterior.

My bling distracts the enemy so I can engulf them in flames.

More Fairs!

This time, of the bridal variety.

I didn’t think I would enjoy these type of events, however, free cake can motivate me to do just about anything. I’m not a fan of pushy crowds or pushy salespeople, but red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting? Yes, please! And: No, I wasn’t at this cake booth earlier. Yes, please!

I have to say though, if it weren’t for Jenny (who should legally change her name to Fantabulous), I wouldn’t have nearly as much fun. Having someone who shares the same level of enthusiasm for my wedding day as I do, has been a great experience.

She carries my heavy bags filled with flyers and magazines, offers helpful advice coveted by random strangers, and zips my back fat into dresses without complaint. There should be a medal made for her display of valor (but I don’t know when the next medal fair swings into Tucson).

Thanks to her assistance I won a bartending gift set, $500 coupon for a photobooth, and a $500 dress. Woot. Woot. And WOOT! If my wedding day goes half as smoothly as the planning, Bridezilla’s reign will be kept at bay.

Thank you, Cake. Thank you, Free Dress. Thank you, Maid of Honor (i.e. Made/Maid of Kick-Assery).

Rosemary’s Purse.

The black bars are to protect the innocent...except from my purse.

This purse looks completely harmless. Utterly defenseless and nothing but docile. However, looks can be deceiving. When melded with the shoulder belonging to someone such as myself, this unsuspecting and quite fashionable purse transforms into a weapon of minor destruction.

 

So far, I’ve knocked this handbag into approximately 582 cars over the course of three months. My inability to grasp the simple “large objects require more space” principle, has created a small-time terror threat to every bumper within a three-mile radius. I simply cannot manage to carry this purse anywhere without pummeling several unassuming vehicles.

 

As if bumpers weren’t bad enough, Rosemary’s purse has collected enough DNA to repopulate a small island. Genetic codes have been swiped from the following: old people, little people, smelly people, mean people, and kid people. My purse has without a doubt, knocked each subset of the American population a good one (from coast to coast, mind you). I could probably apologize and remedy the situation, but given the demonic nature of my carryall, I fear what it could do to me if it happened to detect any signs of weakness on my part. Read on…

 

However, this purse has finally seen it’s last act of terror. While perusing the local craft store (and maintaining a safe distance of three feet from the nearest shelf) my handbag somehow managed to knock down the largest acrylic box which featured edges sharper than a Ginsu knife, and took careful aim to direct it towards my leg. Arts & Crafts Time has officially turned into a bloodsport. I thought I could evade it’s sadistic nature, but this purse is obviously a bad seed.

 

After limping to the bathroom to sop up the trail of blood before it ran into my shoe, I came to the realization that I needed to exact my own revenge. Yet, I soon found out I overestimate my ability to connive. The best punishment I could come up with was to give it the ol’ stink eye during the ride home. This did nothing to the purse but it probably gave me premature wrinkles.

 

So for now, the purse is hanging in my closet, awaiting it’s next victim. It taunts me each time I open the door, laughing at my weakness, and celebrating the day I brought it home with a skip in my step.

Pansy.

Guess who attended a fair last week?! If you guessed me and 13,000 other people, you’re spot on. (OK, OK…a month ago. I forgot to post this draft)

This time I was eager to attend a fair because it didn’t involve jobs, online applications, and quasi-high school reunions. Heck, I even have a stuffed red dolphin to show for it!

The best part of it all? The food. I really don’t mind risking e coli contamination for just a sampling of the hot dogs and funnel cake. However, the ferris wheel? Freaked me right out.

You wouldn’t think the most docile of all the rides would be the one sending me into a spiral of panic. Two minutes into my ride of terror I was planning my escape and assessing potential leg fractures from the jump. Some call this pathetic, I call this resourceful.

I only realized what a sissy I was being when I caught sight of the maniacal ride next to me. People were flung around, tossed upside down, pummeled sideways and paying $4 to do so. That’s a ride I really wouldn’t like. So I did what any normal person in a time of uncertainty would do: I thought of those worse off than me. At the very least, my ride didn’t make Iron Maidens look like a fun alternative.

Only broken femurs.

An eyeball party.

Don’t think I’ve forgotten about this blog, I’ve just been super busy. I’ve also written a few posts that I haven’t yet worked up the courage to post here. In the meantime, I thought it would be nice to show you visual representations of my daily comings and goings.

Observe:

A lesson in density.

I thought it would be fun to create Irish Cream cupcakes for St. Patty’s Day. My cousin had the best. cake. ever. at his wedding, and I wanted to re-create the taste bud excitement at home. Unfortunately, these were the heaviest cupcakes I’ve ever encountered. Four cups of sugar for this recipe caused my counter to sag from the weight. (3 points if you caught the South Beach Diet cookbook in the back and my obvious betrayal of the glycemic index)

A forehead with it's own gravitational pull.

This is our third Chihuahua, Rufus. He’s the cutest guy ever and I’m still in awe of his massive cranium. Try to wake up to this in the morning and not weep rainbows.

Nasal delight.

I recently visited the local plant nursery and was taken aback by the overwhelming scent from the fruit trees. I didn’t want to leave this place. If being a philobotanist is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Cookies and cream.

I’m all for supporting small businesses. I know that in order to make profits, a mark-up is needed. However, why throw it back in my face that I paid 75 cents for a 50 cent candy bar? This makes me want to undermine your business potential and start selling my own snacks for 70 cents. All I need are sweatshops creating cheap shoes and I’m opening my own Trish-Mart (and the government subsidizing my desire to avoid paying my employees a living wage…)

Mischevious chocolate adventures.

Can you think of a better use of chocolate? I didn’t think so.

Sleeping cat.

Aside from whiffs of heaven at the plant nursery, I came across this cat soundly sleeping amongst the pottery. I thought this was the cutest thing and couldn’t help but marvel at his ability to relax even with all the commotion going on around him/her. One life lesson learned.

Matcha!

Although I’m adept at destroying cupcake recipes by the dozen, these did manage to turn out right. Sort of. My first attempt at these cupcakes started with being sold the wrong tea from Cost Plus. FYI: Just because it SHOWS matcha powder on the can and reads “Matcha Powder”, doesn’t necessarily mean it is a powder. The first batch resembled “special” cupcakes more than anything else (minus the good time).

Just Because.

I saw this blog post elsewhere and thought I would participate. You’re supposed to list 30 random songs from your iPod, with a short explanation about them. Don’t worry, I’m only doing ten.

Rock Me Now – Metric: I have to admit I haven’t listened to this song before! My friend gave me a disc full of half a zillion songs. I have yet to enjoy them all. Thanks, Jess!

Love Isn’t Easy – ABBA: Oh, ABBA. I do love you, and contrary to your song title, it is easy. I was a little late to the ABBA game. I never fully understood the appeal. Then suddenly, something clicked in my brain (or was it the rum?) and I realized a new infatuation was blossoming.

If You Don’t, Don’t: Jimmy Eat World: This song reminds me of college and my cousin, Quint. He purchased this album for me on my birthday and then proceeded to make fun of me incessantly while I listened to the album for 3 months non-stop.

In the Ghetto – Elvis: Every time I hear this song I start singing it in Eric Cartman’s voice. South Park forever changed my perception of poverty. It’s hil-ar-i-ous.

Bartender – Regina Spektor: I think she is one of the coolest people alive. ‘Nuff said.

You’re So Good to Me – The Beach Boys: The Beach Boys and I go way back. My all time favorite song in the history of Trish’s universe is “Don’t Worry Baby”. I grew up on oldies and have always cherished anything by this band.

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing – Jack Johnson: This song always puts me in a mellow mood. All I want to do is walk around barefoot, drink out of coconuts and pretend I know something about surfing.

Set Yourself on Fire – Stars: Jess introduced me to this band too. For some reason it reminds me of staying up too late.

Monkey Gone to Heaven – The Pixies: Who doesn’t like this band? If you raised your hand, you’re banished from Earth.

Grace Kelly – Mika: This is a great song when you’re driving in the car all alone. You can blast it and wail. Some of my favorite memories involve solo car rides.

Nerdtacular.

I recently picked up the “The Hobbit” for my bedtime reading material. Normally, this type of book just ain’t my thang, but so far, I’m really enjoying it. I wanted to read it after becoming totally geeked out watching Lord of the Rings on our new HDTV. Frodo’s lego-neck has never looked more crisp.

However, Gollum’s fish gut snack, I could’ve done without.

Thing is, I don’t like to do anything half-way. After the movie I had this insatiable craving to attend the renaissance faire (never been), draw unicorns all day (only once) and drink mead (huzzah!). I even asked my boyfriend if he would show me how to play Dungeons and Dragons. Needless to say, he nearly passed out just from witnessing my immediate ascent into the realm of “Ultimate Girlfriend”.

I’m assuming this will be one of my many personal passing fads (ahem: knitting, dollhouse building, gardening, welding, cross-stitching, and cage fighting). Furthermore, I thoroughly disliked “The Last Unicorn” and will never understand the mass appeal of Star Trek. My foundation for obsessiveness is crumbling as I type.

So, although I’m pale enough to pull off the geeky look, I’m much too fickle to stick with it. Yet, I seem to get made fun of just the same…

Qapla’

Things I Do Poorly.

Open CD Cases – I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been laughed at by people watching me try to unwrap a brand-new CD. This is part of the reason I love iTunes so much, NO WRAPPER. My ego stays in tact and I can enjoy my music (or hypnotherapy, faithful readers).

Diet – I’m completely gung-ho the first day. I’ve bought all the right foods and have planned my meals and workout schedules for the week. I even pick out what I’m going to buy once I reach my goal. However, by day three, I’ve completely lost it. Cranky and tired I will thrash you if you look at me weird or make fun of me for opening CD cases wrong. By the time day four comes along, any money that was to be spent at the mall has now purchased guacamole and margaritas. I always lose my sanity quicker than the pounds.

Velcro My Lunch Bag – I can never keep my lunch bag closed. For some reason I’m unable to align the hooks and magic cloth so it grips properly. If in Tucson, the entire purpose of an insulated lunch bag is lost. I might as well keep my food under a hand dryer.

Wear Clothes – Someone pointed out to me yesterday that I’m supposed to cut the string on my trench coat that holds two panels together in the back. I thought the tulip butt look was something fashionable. It’s not.

Twitter – I like Twitter. I think it’s a great idea and easy to use. However, no matter how easy, I’ll still find a way to mess it up. I can never keep straight when I’m supposed to “reply-to” or “direct message” someone. There have even been times I mean to reply and I end up posting something completely random (usually every other day). Yesterday I caught myself before I sent the words “Blue dong lover” to an additional five (nice) people that wouldn’t be in on the joke. My clumsy fingers and easily confused brain have caused me much embarrassment.

Mountain Biking – I cry.

Make Good Decisions – Take this blog, for example.