Sunday, February 23, 2014

Solitaire

Lately my Facebook newsfeed has been inundated and clogged with the onset of "Which ____ from _____ are you?" Buzzfeed / Thought Catalogue tests. Aside from the "What is Your Inner Potato" quiz I haven't been able to get excited about any of them. I feel a sense of deep frustration.

The natural course of action was to devise my own personality analysis quiz. Something we can all relate to. And without further ado...

What does your go-to Solitaire Card Back say about you?



Seashell
You are bold to near-recklessness. You are a bad B and no one can touch you. You know when to keep it Times New Roman and when to get your Wingdings on. 

Robot
Your mom and dad decided you were playing too many war simulator games and took them away when you got a 'D' on the Of Mice and Men book report. This punishment included Minesweeper. Playing with the robot card was your way of sticking it to them. In short, you are anti-establishment. 

Hand of Aces
You are a Dad. Or a creep. 

Roses
You are ambitious and determined in your romantic pursuits. All you think about is relationships and true love and that INCLUDES the time you are playing solitaire. I think I hate you.

Clownfish or Palm Tree
Life's a beach and you're just playing in the sand.  You are a risk taker--willing to break the rules for the sake of a good time. As the life of the party, you are likely holding a margarita right now. 

Flowers/Flowers with a Filter
Gotta be honest and say it--you are boring as hell and possibly pretentious. You are no-nonsense and that's fine except you have no passion. Stop being so stiff.  If you opt for the latter then you saw the value in filters before any of the rest of us. For that I tip my cap to you and you may disregard the beginning part of this description. 

Haunted House
You are generally troubled. You have donned a dog collar as jewelry and you're not afraid to say so. You played Solitaire in the background as a cover for what you were REALLY doing on the the computer--trolling the chat room circuit. 

I hope this helped you get your daily dose of self-satisfaction / you know yourself better now. That's what these quizzes are for--right? By the way my inner potato is French Fries. 

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Full disclosure: I was a serious FarmVille Farmer during college. My nights normally played out as follows: Go out; come home; harvest my crops; plant some strawberries to harvest in the morning (they only took two hours to ripen) and go to bed ready for another day of tending to my hoe. I was meticulous and purposeful with my produce--and I saw the benefits quickly. After a certain amount of achievements I was awarded access to crops of higher pay off and economy. I saved enough FarmVille profits to buy the best benches and the most handsome, blue ribbon-worthy livestock so all my FarmVille friends passing through could see/be jealous of my spoils. A proverbial Garden of Eden, if I may. 

Then life got in the way. It was time to head to the big city. 

But like all things you truly love--you eventually find your way home. I recently reinstated FarmVille on my Facebook and went back to my roots. And this was my greeting:




I don't know who Marie is--but I think she might be my manager. She made sure I came home to a heroes welcome with my name on the virtual agriculture marquee. I feel ready to "take the reins" back on my affairs. On my farm I am adored. 

FarmVille, and indeed probably all Zynga games, has a lot of naysayers. If you care to see ignorance at its finest you needn't look any further than Urban Dictionary's 'definition' ascribed to the game:

"...While the rest of the people in the world, who deserve to live, are out living their lives continue to procreate, all of the inept addicts who are busy locked up by their computers playing farmfuck will slowly make the world a better place, right before they get to harvest that last goddamn crop, by dying."

--Anonymous Urban Dictionary Commenter (read as: Hater)

This is one of the most hateful/grammatically confusing things I have ever encountered. I will never apologize or feel embarrassed for being a successful farmer. Everything I have achieved--and WILL achieve, I have done without the help of the haters or government subsidies. And for the record I don't think the world is a better place if this person plans to or has already successfully procreated.

Is it so wrong to wish for fanfare every time you enter a room? Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name. That's how I feel about my Farmville Farm. Whether you're a believer or not, feel free to come 'round the Old Gilchrist Farm anytime you wish. I will be waiting for you. 



Sunday, January 12, 2014

2014 - Resolving to Forgo Resolutions

Why is the beginning of each year wrought with pressure to be better, faster and stronger (literally and figuratively) than the previous year's version of oneself? The tradition dates back to Ancient Babylonian ritual and we all know what happened to them, right? #Conquered.

Back to the modern day--is it any coincidence the first working week of January each year is scientifically horrible? Resolutions bring misery and hasten conclusions when perhaps some of our habits and stories aren't ready to end. That I feel a need to blog about this phenomenon is a testament to this undeniable force. 

Upon reflection I can confidently attribute my 2013 tribulations almost entirely to my inability to meet some impossible goals I set for myself. At this point all I want is to not make the same mistakes as I did last year, or the year before or the year BEFORE the year before. Does anyone else feel the same? Want some advice? Feeling Missundazstood

Take it from me--in perilous times like these I find it best to turn to P!nk for strength.



As one of mankind's only consistent, steadfast bad bitches P!nk should serve as an inspiration to us all. It is clear from her music that girlfriend don't care 'bout nothin' except being [the] boss--THAT is who I will be modeling myself after this year. There's no way a free spirit like P!nk would tie her life goals to a specific date just for the sake of affirmation--and I won't do it either. 

So Raise your Glass and Blow Me (One Last Kiss), 2013. I refuse to buckle under the pressure to change this year because really So What? I'm still a rockstar, etc. 

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Open Letter to Forever 21

Dear Forever 21,

We haven't spoken for a while. You and I used to be so close, and despite my better judgement re: post break-up communication I feel I owe you an explanation regarding my once silent protest.

I'll always remember our first time--you, me and the bright lights of Baltimore. I was young and wide-eyed. You were loud and pandemoniac. I was intrigued by your clutter and harsh lighting. I wanted to fix you. During high school I was trying to define my vision and write my own style story--I really wanted you to be a part of that journey. After all--what is fashion but moving, living art and self-expression?

It was several years before I realized not even blind optimism and trust could justify investment in your products. Few were the weekends when poorly-made Forev clothing or jewelry would survive my college jaunts. I thought I was being thrifty with my limited income during school. That $20 dress? SO in my budget. That $8.50 necklace with a pink owl embellishment? Sure to be a hit on the frat party circuit. But none of it lasted. Ever. 

Poorly sewn sequins and mini skirts that can double as tube tops just stopped being enough. I drew a line in the sand. You either maintain your characteristic affordability while increasing the quality of the clothes or I walk away for good. The rest, as you know, is history.

Sometimes I miss you, old friend. Then I remember it's you--not me--that ruined something that could have been truly beautiful.


Sincerely,

Allison

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Annual Oprah Roast

Christmas is coming--and you all know what that means: Oprah released her annual list of favorite (read as: bourgie) things. While you can see the complete list here--I assure you there is no need. I provide an analysis below and have selected the key items that prove, for the millionth year in a row, that Oprah is the most aggravating and fake person on this green Earth.



Truffle Popcorn Kit

Oprah's Truffle Popcorn Kit
Some people dream of success. Others dream of peace. Oprah dreams about a popcorn maker. Popcorn (or Pipcorn if you're the O herself and/or a braggart) is A. not that good and B. NOT worth 94$. 










Chocolate Nativity Scene



A disproportionately high number of items on Oprah's 2013 Favorite Things List involved chocolate (5--or approximately 8.333%). I'd be willing to accept this statistic if she could have at least refrained from turning religion into a dessert. How is a Chocolate Nativity Scene not sacrilege? You love Baby Jesus so much you want to eat him? Have some decorum.








MuuMuu


 According to the Book of O this muumuu (worn best by Homer Simpson when he was collecting disability for being obese) "was born lounge-ready." Damn right it was. Anyone who purchases this particular Favorite Thing better not even entertain the idea of leaving their home. Not even for the paper. It makes me uncomfortable to even look at let alone interact with.






Susan Hanover Earrings





"Bonus: The earrings look more expensive than they actually are!!" I don't love anyone enough to buy them Claire's-y earrings for $220. These earrings are just one of the many clues that lead me to know that Oprah could never walk to hardened streets of normal life among us--the proletariat. 



       

Genevieve Boots

Does Oprah ever stop lying? No shot she wears Uggs. Especially not Uggs adorned with leather bows.














Beats Studio Headphones





Under what circumstance would Oprah need noise-canceling headphones? Are we expected to believe she uses public transportation?









I can't even bring myself to continue this. On a happier note Allison's List of Favorite Things hasn't changed much between 2012 and 2013. The only notable addition would be Kate Spade pendants 'cause I luhhhh dem.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

The Great Pumpkin

Doing my part to commemorate 10 years of Pumpkin Spice Latte (hereinafter referred to as #PSL) by dedicating my November post to Starbucks' most storied drink.



For those who have not previously quenched their WASPy holiday thirst with this beverage, a #PSL is an espresso-based drink that is 2 parts milk, 1 part pumpkin imitation syrup, all garnished with several pinches of various psychedelic drugs. It is an American fall staple. 

I cannot speak for others, but all I know is I feel I am the most successful/prettiest version of myself when I walk out of my Starbucks with my red cup holiday cup in hand. I'm taken away to a place where I'm sitting by my house in Lake Tahoe (near an outdoor fire pit, naturally). A place where my life's only regret is not getting whipped cream on my drink. I love that place. You too can go there. I will be waiting for you.

Foreign friends tell me America is the only country as obsessed with pumpkins as we are. Of that I am unendingly proud. In an earlier post describing my trip to London I mentioned I was a fan of the Praline Mocha Latte I replaced my #PSL with while away. I now take the opportunity to clear the air--#PSL>PML no matter your preferred system of measure. People do crazy things while abroad. You just don't plan your future with your side dish, you know what I mean?

#PSL and the associated pumpkin pastries are unequivocally the most superior of the Starbucks holiday spread. Gingerbread Latte? Waste of time. Salted Caramel Mocha Latte? I am a busy lady and therefore I don't have time to verbalize the extra word in the drink's name. Caramel Brulee Latte? That's just pretentious. And can anyone even tell me what Egg Nog is? Didn't think so. 

If you have not had a #PSL today you must run, do not walk, to your nearest Starbucks and partake immediately. It always warms my soul. Happy Birthday, #PSL! To 10 more years. 




Monday, October 7, 2013

Felina



Last summer I embarked on my first foray into TV analysis by predicting possible Breaking Bad outcomes--and let me just say it was nothing short of prophetic. Just kidding. Has anyone heard from Huell?

First order of business: One for three.

Jessie did, in fact, split off from Walt. I couldn't have predicted his fate of meth slave, but I was close. Is it OD that I actually felt a pang of nostalgia every time there was a flashback to Walt and Jesse's early days of cooking foolery? Can't we just go back to the simpler times?

Skyler did not die and after reading Anna Gunn's NYT op-ed I feel remorseful for ever hoping she would. That's actually a lie. Maybe it's girl on girl crime to wish ill on a fictional character but just LET ME LIVE, Anna. Just let me live.

The Germans didn't invade the American meth market and I actually think it's for the best. The US-based criminals on the show were horrifying enough (looking at you, Todd). 

Second order of business: Felina.

I am a huge sucker for TV conspiracy theories, especially when a show I love immensely comes to an end. In the case of Felina, My thirst for more information has proven insatiable.

I was pointed to this one article postulating that Walt froze to death in the car and the remaining events in the episode were nothing more than a dying man's cancer-induced fantasy. As much as I love closure, I have to agree with the idea that Vince Gilligan really would have been pushing the limits of the deus ex machina plot device by allowing Walt to tie up every loose end and die a (relatively) content man in his favorite place in the world--a chemistry lab. Everything worked out too perfectly and Walt has never operated under perfect circumstances. Think about it.

(PS I know I'm the only one trying to franch [french and ranch] happen but I tried it and it was exquisite with chicken nuggets. May these two dressings enjoy their holy blessed condiment matrimony eternally).