Five Songs that Make Me Get Up & Dance

Bad day?

Just get up and have a five minute dance party.

You’ll feel better, I swear.

Need some jams for a soundtrack?

Here’s what I’m loving right now.

1. “Safe and Sound,” Capital Cities. The opening chords just make me smile. 
2. “Internet Killed the Video Star,” Limousines. Infectious. Positively infects you with happiness. Plus you get to be a total hipster when you listen to this.
3. “Va Va Voom,” Nicki Minaj. Not a huge Nicki fan, but damn she makes some catchy songs.
4. “I Knew You Were Trouble,” Taylor Swift. I’m a girl. By default, I like Taylor Swift.
5. “Always on Time,” Ja Rule & Ashanti. Whenever I hear a really bad rap song, I think, ‘whatever happened to Ja Rule?’ The good news is he gets out of jail in a month. Don’t judge, I love me some Ja Rule.

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A Great Date.

Its come to my attention that I tend to rant (and never rave) about dating.

And before anyone gets confused and thinks I’m just super high-maintenance and impossible to please…I’d like to present evidence from what I consider a really good date, circa summer 2012.

Cheerwine cherry soda. Some ginger ale. Mini mason jars full of booze, and two cups.

Add in a hike up to the top of Cobbs Hill to sit at the reservoir, a chance to look at the city, have great conversation, and stare at the stars. I’m putting a mark in the “win” column.

And it didn’t even involve parking.

Feeling Liberated.

Good thing I have no fear of walking headfirst, eyes open, into disaster.

Have an amazing Thursday.

xo,

CP.

Dear 2012…

To say you were, well, disappointing, would be an understatement.

2012 blew goats.

More specifically, I’ll say my 2012 dating life blew goats.

We started the year off with the “you overwhelm me” guy.

We went to dinner with Mr. Wrong…more than once…shame rattle.

And I was a bit of a good luck charm. Which culminated in my college bf getting married and my dad telling me I “missed the boat.” Bridget Jones much?

I received THIS in the mail. And THIS over email.

Even the NYT got in on the action. (Don’t worry, I haven’t yet turned into a pantless alcoholic…YET.)

We laughed a bit with the “I’m trying to have a creepy airport hookup in the sky lounge” guy.

And I was righteously angry at the “I’m ending it over text message less than 24 hours after telling you I really like you” guy.

Oh, and 2012 closed itself with a bang with the “you didn’t fake offer to pay for parking” guy. (Stay tuned, details to follow.)

2012 was a Bridget Jones meets a Taylor Swift song.

But I have high hopes for 2013. So I’m making some relationship resolutions.

1. Develop a dating bill of rights. Every girl should have one. It’s the list of non-negotiables in a relationship. For me? It starts of with I deserve a phone call and not a text message, and that yes, titles do matter no matter how much you tell yourself they don’t. No grey areas. I’m also going to add that I need someone who supports my job, has a life outside of me, and likes my family (or at least is really good at faking it.)
2. Read the writing on the wall. If you think things aren’t working, they probably aren’t. So walk away. It takes a lot of walk away, because you keep thinking that the other person will change or things will get better or it will be different in the new year. I’ve stayed in relationships for too long (and probably too many tear-filled phone calls to girlfriends) because I wasn’t willing to admit that I wasn’t happy and things weren’t working out. So read it, believe it, and act on it.
3. Keep taking chances. It’s a rough world out there, and it takes a lot to keep putting yourself out there. Some days it will feel like you are feeding yourself to the wolves. But keep doing it. I haven’t found the right person yet, but I’ve learned a lot about what I like and what I don’t like, and about what goes on the dating bill of rights. So keep taking chances.
4. Don’t recycle. If it didn’t work out the first time, there was probably a good reason. Don’t recycle relationships. It’s bad news bears.

So good riddance to bad rubbish 2012, and get ready 2013, because it’s time to rock on.

Coffee Anyone?

So a few months ago I sold my soul helped out a friend on a charity photo shoot.

Said friend happened to by John Myers of Myers Creative Imaging.

He takes beautiful photos. His thing is portraits. And characters.

And every year he makes a really cool book of all his character portraits.

Simple, right?

Well, I’m pretty sure I’m owed some residuals off this favor.

I did the book.

And then ended up in the homepage slideshow.

As the main image for the portraits section.

And in an e-blast.

But in all seriousness, this was pretty much the coolest thing that happened to me all week…or quite possibly maybe ever. John takes beautiful photography and he is a blast to work with. Except I’m not sure I like all the getting bossed around that comes with being a model.

The more amusing part of this story is the day after the e-blast went out, John and I were freezing our asses off in a 30 degree horse barn, traipsing through dirt, straw, sawdust, and everything else that comes with a horse farm, because our lives are just that glamorous. Of course, I brought coffee.

And no, I do not look like this in real life.

I look better.

Watch out for the Nice Guys.

Watch out for the nice guys.

It’s advice that your mom/best friend/sister/therapist/Bridget Jones probably never told you.

But I’m letting you know.

BEWARE of the nice guy.

The nice guy is easy to fall for. He makes dinner reservations. He waits until you get inside the house before leaving. He asks about your day and is legitimately interested in hearing about it. He pulls out your chair, buys you flowers, and has a glass of wine waiting for you when you arrive. And not a glass of wine in the “I am making decisions for you and am trying to control you” way, but in the “I’m being thoughtful” way.

The moment you find yourself thinking, “this is really nice” and “wow, I need to go to finishing school so I know what to do when he pulls the chair out next time” remind yourself of this: The nice guy is easy to fall for. I need to watch out.

That way, when the nice guy calls it off with you over text message less than 48 hours after doing something amazingly sweet and less than 24 hours after telling you how much he likes you, you won’t be surprised.

I’M WARNING YOU. Watch out.

Also? “Hi!” is not an appropriate greeting for a let’s just quit while we are ahead text message.

An exclamation point? Are you sh*tting me life? Didn’t realize you were THAT excited to be extracting yourself from my life.

Beware. Of. The. Nice. Guy.

(I won’t even get started on the fact that I DESERVE A FREAKING PHONE CALL and that text message is only an appropriate form of communication if you are under the age of 14.)

At least when you fall for the d-bag, you know he’s going to consistently be douche-y. He’ll cancel plans (if he even bothers to make them in the first place), he’ll only call you after midnight (and nothing good happens after midnight), and he’ll probably tell you that he ‘forgot his credit card’ as soon as you show up to the bar (but do you mind spotting him? Just this once?). He won’t commit and he will forget your birthday. But he will manage to keep giving you just those few amazing moments every so often that you are always thinking “it’s going to be different” and “he’ll change.”

Like I said. Consistent.

Be careful out there ladies. Don’t let yourself fall for a Mr. Wrong. Keep your heart and your eyes open. WIDE OPEN.

And watch out for the nice guys.

Last Day! Snail Mail my Email

Fact: I love paper.

I love sending paper. And I love, love, love receiving paper. Getting the mail is one of my top ten favorite things to do. So much that I actually dislike days that the mail doesn’t come.

Like Sundays. And who dislikes Sundays? It’s like disliking Christmas. Blasphemy, folks.

Back to paper.

Today is the last day of ‘Snail Mail my Email,’ which is pretty much one of the coolest things ever. And it’s free.

The idea? Send an email (100 words or less) to snailmailmyemail2@gmail.com, along with the recipient’s physical address.

They’ll handwrite your note, make it all artistic, and send it in the mail for you. You can even select custom options for the note, like doodles or perfume sprays or lipstick kisses.

(Although the idea of some stranger kissing a note with lipstick that is then sent to one of my friends is sort of…creepy. Not to mention the germ contamination…sad side effect of paper mail.)

Did I mention that it’s free?

How did this all start? The project was started in 2011, with the goal of rebuilding personal connections in our digital world — and more than 10,000 letters were illustrated and mailed to over 70 countries. You can see many of these in the Snail Mail book.

So get writing!

Adios Mexico!

So after six beautiful days in sunny Cozumel, and after six days of amazing scuba diving, it’s back to the mainland for me. Luckily, no one got sick, we saw lots of fish, and our plane leaves at an appropriate time for an in-flight cocktail. Yeah, luckily…

After a week at the bottom of the sea, I feel like I should have some big life lessons or deep insights to share. But…this is me we’re talking about…so here goes.

Traveling with my dad and his BFF, aka “the dads,” is best described as an adventure. A really, really, really funny adventure.

I really, really enjoy the limitless supply of tap water that exists in the States. It’s one of those little luxuries that I never think about until I don’t have access to it. Not to mention my Prius-driving inner environmentalist finds bottled water quite wasteful.

There is always that one guy who gives American tourists a bad name. This trip, it was “big bob.” The guy smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, and was some of the worst dive boat company ever. He was too lazy to figure out how to say “Jorge” and insisted on calling the dive guide “George.” Did I mention his personal hygiene was also lacking? GROSS.

I’m addicted to technology. This should come as no surprise.

College humor is never-ending…and I still find most of it funny. The ridiculous scuba diving t-shirts, with slogans like “divers do it deeper,” still make me laugh.

Everyone should get off the beaten path once in a while. Here, in Mexico, away from the tourist traps, you meet the most amazing people and find the most amazing things. You might be the only gringo there, but it’s how you experience real life.

I will miss this place, and diving, and getting to unwind a bit in the anonymity of being a tourist. It has been wonderful.

But what I’ll really miss? The fact that life is much, much simpler when lived at the bottom of the sea.

The next time someone says I am high maintenance…

They should remember that I scuba dive.

Scuba diving is not glamorous. And you cannot be high maintenance if you dive.

Right now, I’m on day five of the great father-daughter adventure. Which means I’ve spent half of the last four days either at sea or in the sea. With two more to go.

Sure, scuba diving sounds glamorous and I get to go to exotic places like Belize and Papua New Guinea…but there is NOTHING exotic about neoprene bodysuits. Or marine toilets.

Let me tell you what life is like.

We wake up, and schlep our dive gear down to the “marina.” We board the large bathtub boat, and take the roller coaster boat ride to the dive site. This is after hauling air tanks, repairing the boat engine, and fixing whatever else broke overnight. And don’t even think about bringing anything that needs to stay dry onto the boat. There is no such thing as “dry” on a dive boat.

Once you get to the reef, after getting pelted in the face with salt spray for thirty minutes to an hour, it’s time to shove yourself into five millimeters of neoprene so you’re not freezing once you hit the ocean floor. And no one, no matter how good looking you are, looks good in a wetsuit. It’s just…not a good look.

And after four days of diving, it doesn’t matter how much you try to wash things…they just smell like ocean. And not the good salt smell that reminds you of the spa.

Did I mention the part where you spit inside your mask so it doesn’t fog up? Because that’s really sexy.

After spending a few hours in the ocean, you come back from the boat covered in a mix of salt, sweat, and sunscreen. And get ready to do it all again the next day. Why? Because divers are just crazy like that. And the ocean is full of cool stuff to look at.

Right now, my hair feels like straw from being continually submerged in salt water. I have water in my ears so I’m half deaf and off balance. My feet have a few raw spots from my fins, which won’t heal up due to continually being wet. I’m starting to break out from wearing layers of grease sunscreen. I haven’t worn makeup in days. My blood is full of nitrogen and my throat is scratchy from inhaling compressed air. And don’t bother trying to look pretty. It’s so hot here you start sweating even with air conditioning on.

But this is the scuba life. And it’s worth it.

So no, I am not high maintenance.

And besides, high maintenance is just another word for high quality.

Yes, I’m with THOSE Dads.

So day one of the great Father-Daughter Adventure is finished. And “adventure” is putting it lightly…

First, there was the 3:45 a.m. wake-up call. I’ll admit that getting home the night before was entirely my fault…BUT STILL. No one is that cheerful before 4, Dad.

Then there was plane número uno. Everything was going quite well, minus the Asian couples who each had millions of carry on bags and didn’t understand that they all had to be in an overhead bin or under a seat…And let’s not forget the guy in the hazmat suit who came rushing down the aisle with a bucket of blue goo because the bathroom wasn’t working. Awesome.

I give major props to the woman sitting behind me who tried to order a mimosa at 5:30 a.m. It was five o’clock, right?

Now for plane number two. We had the most super cheerful flight attendant, who came around with champagne and mimosas as soon as we boarded the plane. Me, being smart, happily accepted.

But not those dads. They, turned down champagne, asking for the hard stuff. “Not until we are in the air” was the response. “In the air” turned out to be 30-plus minutes later. Jealous of my champagne? Rookie mistake, Dad.

But let’s get to the “in the air” part. My dad, being efficient playing catch-up, asks our other cheery flight attendant for doubles. The attendant happily brings over multiple airplane bottles and extra tonic…at this point, the daughters just look at the two dads…yes, we’re with those two. This pattern continued throughout the flight. It also involved moments of my dad getting up to fetch his own ice from the kitchen…and so on.

Did I mention this was all before noon?

Also, since when are passengers from steerage coach allowed to use the first-class bathroom? Flight attendants were falling down on the job. (Probably too busy herding cats who were in the galley trying to get their own ice…)

Now to when we land. We get off the plane, get through immigration, and bienvenidos a Mexico! As soon as we get our bags and get through customs, that is. At customs, my dad tries to tag along on my form, claiming that I “never gave his back.” Erroneous, it was in his passport. That is, until I got the dreaded red light and my bags had to be searched. THEN he wanted nothing to do with me.

When I got outside to the death trap cab, I was sent to fetch beers from the outdoor airport bar. And, due to my very important beverage mission, I was the last person to the cab, which was stuffed full of twelve people and their bags. My “seat” was on top of a suitcase, balanced against the door.

After arriving at the hotel (which is quite lovely), we went to a bar called the Thirsty Cougar. After the most delicious fresh chips and guac ever (and possibly a few beers), I was forced to commandeer a glass from the bar.

We then went to “go see our Italian friends” down the block…where I had to explain that a spumante was not, in fact, the type of Italian white they were looking for…a bottle of wine later, we were back at the hotel.

And, because I was running on three hours sleep, I went to bed and skipped any potential dinner adventures.

All in all, it was a great day. The dads are hysterical and crack the daughters up. It’s going to be a good trip.

I promise to post photos, as soon as I figure this whole blogging from my iPad thing out.