Wowsers, it's here!

Just 4 days until the wedding, and I'm in full-on panic mode. Actually, not really. People keep telling me I'm the calmest bride they've ever met. I keep reading bridezilla horror stories, where the bride yells at everyone including the groom. I guess that's not my style. I'm saving that behavior and the 50 extra pounds I'll gain until after we get married.

Mike and I leave tomorrow, and I seriously can't believe it. I'm not what you'd call a particularly organized packer, so I'm a hot mess when leaving on vacation. I'll start one project, and then I remember the laundry in the dryer, or the dogs need to be walked, or the bills need to be paid. And imagine packing for a wedding! If you think you have nothing to wear now, try packing for the biggest event of your life. (Biggest event other than being born, but that was easy--I was naked.)

Today and tomorrow morning I've got tons of beauty spa treatments to go to, and it's so fun. As a television viewer who saw me without make-up on once told me, "You're not a natural beauty," so as you can imagine I have to get lots done. (But trust me, she didn't look like Cindy Crawford either.)

I probably won't be able to blog for a few days, so help me out. Please say a little prayer for:
-No rain
-No zits
-Good hair
-No drunk/embarrassing relatives
-No tripping on a ridiculously big wedding gown
-And for Mike to actually show up!

Shalom everybody!

Mrs. Soon-To-Be Evanchan

Men: Do you fit into one of these categories?

Going to the gym is an interesting experience. It's full of men trying to impress and hit on women who just want to work out while watching Oprah. The gym I went to in Fort Myers had a women's section with no men allowed, and it was fabulous. I knew I wasn't getting checked out while sweating on the treadmill.

I've come to realize there are 3 types of men that always exist at the gym...1) Mr. Stinky, 2) Mr. Show-off, and 3) Mr. Moaner. Sometimes men fit into more than one of these categories. Here is what I'd like to say to these men...

Dear Mr. Stinky,
Wow, you are the worst thing I've ever smelled, and I've even been to Europe! Your B.O. hit my nostrils like a freight train as soon as I walked in the door. If you find it strange that I kept smelling myself, it's because I was praying if I smelled my arm long enough, I'd smell less of you. I'm sure you were thinking, "I'll just shower after I'm done working out." Next time, shower before and after, because it's hard for me to run when I'm throwing up a little in my mouth. Thank you.

Dear Mr. Show-Off,
Our gym is air-conditioned, so I'm pretty sure it's not necessary for you to take off your shirt. Plus, here's the thing--if someone told you women really go for a hairy, pudgy belly, they were lying to you. You clearly hit your peak 20-years, and 20 6-packs ago, so please leave your shirt on.
Thank you.

Dear Mr. Moaner,
I know working out is tough sometimes, but if you're lifting something so heavy all you can do is scream and moan, it's too heavy. If I can hear your moaning over my I-Pod and the sound of 6 flat-screen TV's on various sports/news programs, you're being too loud. Sorry to break it to you...women aren't impressed, so only lift weights that don't make your veins pop out. Save those noises for....well, actually, never make those noises because you sound like a douche. Thank you.

Best,

Unkempt Jeannie

On my wedding day, I hope to be a lovely bride with my super poofy gown, my hair perfectly styled and a sparkle in my eye. I'm sure Mike will be impressed, considering in these days leading up to the event, I'm a super hot mess.

No one ever warns you that you'll look hideous before your nuptials. That's because you're saving all your typical beauty rituals to right before the big day, often neglecting what really needs to be done now.

That means my eyebrows are overtaking my face in a Frida-kinda way. I need a good waxing as much as the Bachelorette needs to get canceled. It's bad.

I'm also paler than I've ever been. The girl who gives me spray tans at home wants me to be super exfoliated, so I can't even put on my typical self-tanner on my legs. I'm now the whitest person in Chicago, and too embarrassed to wear shorts or skirts.

My toenails needed a pedicure like a week ago. I had to paint at work, so my tangerine colored toenails now have splashes of of white paint on them. I call the color tangerine-trashy.

My fingernails are uneven and broken.

My roots are growing in and my hair is stringy.

I have a zit on my chin that needs a good Oxygen Facial.

I'm just hoping this "Unkempt" Jeannie doesn't lead Mike to standing me up, because that my friends, would be awkward.

Lean on me...

The last time I prepared for a tornado was in the 6th grade. It was Jessup Elementary School in Cheyenne, Wyoming, around 1990. All of us kids were shuttled into the hallways, and told to bring our biggest book (usually Social Studies) with us. We'd squat in the hallway and put the books over our heads to practice a tornado drill. We all felt rest assured that flying debris and glass would certainly bounce off of a 12-year old's school book.

Fast forward to June 23, 2010, and a tornado warning was in effect for Chicago, Illinois. Suddenly I'm 32, without a Social Studies book, and not a clue what to do when all the tornado sirens are going off in the city. Check out the video...it's kinda creepy.

Of course, I turned on the TV to find out what was going on, and surprise, surprise, DISH network didn't have a signal. (See earlier posts.) The Internet wasn't yet updated, and I was freaking out. Should I evacuate? Should I pack up the dogs and hide in the closet?

I did the only thing I know what to do--I posted a message on Facebook and Tweeted that I was scared. Suddenly, two of my friends and former meteorologist co-workers e-mailed/texted me back. Detroit's favorite meteorologist, Sean Ash, told me not to worry--the line of storms was clearing out. Peoria's favorite meteorologist, Jeff Desnoyers, texted me, asking if I was okay. How cool is that? I had people living in other cities, telling me I was going to be A-OK.

Here's the thing--you can't always count on technology to help you out, but you can always count on your friends.

Have you Skyped today?

I may have just found the coolest technology yet! Have you heard of Skype? It's this free service that allows you to see and speak with people over the Internet. Oprah and newscasters use it, but until yesterday, I had no idea that we could use it.

With our new MacBook Pro computer, (seriously the best) we have a camera and a microphone already built in. I downloaded Skype (for free) from www.skype.com, and voila, we were Skyping!

Mike's brother, Jason, and his wife, Cara, are Skypers. Last night, we all got on, and Mike and I were able to see our brand new baby nephew, Garrett, for the first time! Isn't that neat? Garrett was born in early June and we hadn't seen him yet. Come to find out--Mike's mom who admits she is computer illiterate--uses Skype to see her grandchildren, so you can tell it's easy to use.

I only wish Mike and I had this during the 4 long years we lived in different states. Although, I guess I would have needed to ditch the curlers and blue face mask (and the other boyfriend.)

Just Tweet back already!

Have you ever had someone call/e-mail/text/tweet you with a question, or just wanting to chat, and you opt to not call/e-mail/text/tweet them back? If so, then you're a punk. Ouch, I know, but this drives me nuts! It's almost as aggravating as the Chicago tourists taking up more than their fair share of the sidewalk.

Two cases in point: I needed to make a hair appointment for the wedding, so I called a woman who comes highly recommended. I told her so in the voicemail I left. I asked her to call me back ASAP, to let me know if she was available to style my hair.

She never called back.

3 days later, I tried again. No answer. Come to find out (not from her though!), she's busy that day and can't do my hair. So I just wasted 3 valuable wedding planning days NOT hearing back from her.

Second instance: a girlfriend sent me a text that one of her friends had 2 extra tickets to the Cubs game, and she asked if I'd wanted them. I said absolutely! So I called the friend of a friend and left a message, saying I was interested. This was Thursday.

On Saturday, I still assumed we were going, until I finally texted my friend, and she told me her friend gave the tickets to someone else.

Thanks for letting me know.

Seriously people, it's a common courtesy to call/e-mail/text/tweet someone back when they're trying to get in touch. Even if you don't have time to chat, just send them a quick text that you'll get back to them as soon as you can. We have so much technology now, there's really no excuse.

Germs? Stay away!

Wow, just 12 days away from the wedding, can you believe it? I know I keep talking about it, but that's the luxury of having your own blog. You can talk about yourself as much as you want, and talking about me is my favorite kind of conversation! (I hope by now you know when I'm joking, which is almost always.)

In my waiting for 32 years for this magical moment, I've put a lot of pressure on this day. I want the perfect hairstyle, flawless skin, and my latest worry? Being healthy!

At work the other day, I was checking out a girl (By that I mean working, not creeping), and she was coughing all over the place. Seriously people, how did you not learn to cover your mouth? When she left, I immediately ran to the bathroom and washed my hands. A couple of girls at work have recently had the stomach flu, so I keep a good 50 feet away from them. At night, I drink "Emergen-C", the powder you put in your water and it gives you tons of Vitamin C. Living in a city is tough though, because everyday, you walk past sick people.

So, if I see you on the street and I don't shake your hand or kiss your cheek, you know why. Either I don't like you, or I think you might have a runny nose. See me after July 3rd, and I'll be much friendlier.

A little friendly advice...

I'm going to give you some Cesar Millan advice, and I won't even charge you $24.95 to read my book. When we moved to Chicago, I told you I was super nervous about how the dogs would react around other dogs. That's because Bailey started her life hidden inside the Tri-Delta house in Laramie, Wyoming, so she missed that crucial socialization. Buckeye started his life in practically a retirement community in Fort Myers, Florida, so he also never socialized. (And he still likes to eat dinner at 4 p.m.--weird)

Fast forward to 2009, when we moved to a dog community, on a dog floor, in a dog-loving city. At first, the dogs tried to attack every Puggle, Yorkie, Retriever and Pit Bull in sight. I was humiliated, because they are my children, and I feel responsible.

Now fast forward about 9 months, and they are completely different dogs. Today on our walk, they smelled nearly 10 dogs, and didn't snarl or try and attack a single one. Me? I'm a proud mama.

Here's the thing: dogs sense your energy. (This is the Cesar Millan part. Actually, I changed my mind--please type in your credit card info before continuing.) If you are tense, and pull back on their lease when another dog approaches, your dog thinks something is wrong, so they get aggressive. If you just let loose on their leash and let them smell other dogs, then don't feel your tension, and they just smell the other dog's butt. (Can you imagine if we greeted people that way? A little less hand-shaking, and a lot more smelling.)

Now that I've calmed down, the dogs have too. I have to thank my 3 favorite gentleman for that: Jose Cuervo, Jim Beam and Jack Daniels.

My favorite store!

Phew! Sorry for the later-than-usual post, but I left for Target 9 hours ago, and just got back! Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but running errands in a city is a lot of work. The strange thing is people always say how nice it is living in a city because of all the amenities. True, I can get a taco at 4 a.m., but I'm going to have to find a cab to take me there, pay a high cab fare and still wait in line once I arrive.

We only use my car about once a month because it's a mile away. So today, when I decided it was time for my monthly Target run, I walked the mile to get the car. When I got to the parking garage, I then walked about another 1/2 mile to find it. (Just like they say 30 is the new 20, apparently "Level 4 is the new Level 2" when Mike swears he knows exactly where he last left it.)

I then drive amongst the crazy cabbies and super crazy tour bus operators to get to the South Loop. I get sweaty 'pits (hence the blog name) because I learned how to drive a car in Cheyenne, Wyoming and not Manhattan.

When I get to Target, I proceed to buy $355 worth of stuff, because I'm hoping I won't have to go back for another 6 months. We now have enough toilet paper to soak up the BP Oil Spill.

I checkout, which takes forever because my cashier has 6-inch fake purple fingernails, and I'm sure she doesn't want to ruin her mani.

I drive back, double park in front of our building, and reserve a cart from our doorman because I can't carry 7 large bottles of laundry detergent up 31 flights.

I schlep it upstairs, and get ready to unload it. I'm greeted by a man's voice in the apartment--and it's not Mike. Nope, it's our repairman, Dario, replacing our furnace filter. The dogs are so scared by this intruder, they are sleeping in the sun. I kick my underwear under the bed, hoping Dario hasn't already seen them.

I take the cart downstairs, and drive back to the parking garage-- dodging pedestrians and potholes the whole way.

I park. (Level 2, honey)

I then walk a mile back home. I'm finished, and it only took 2 hours and some change.

Hmm, living in a city is fun, but man it takes a lot of work to get TP. Perhaps I'll make this a "One-sheet per use household."

Me? I'm a hot mess

I'm starting to have really terrible thoughts. I was just working out, and I had a vision as clear as day that when I walk down the aisle in 2 1/2 weeks, I trip on my big, flowing gown and fall. In my vision, I was too embarrassed to continue with the ceremony, I cried, and ran away.

Yep folks, these are the thoughts that cross a soon-to-be bride's mind. Other pleasant thoughts? I have a huge zit on my chin, Mike decides to bail and stands me up, or it rains that day (our ceremony is outside.) Every night I dream that I don't have any make-up on or my hair done, and I hear the music start that is my cue to go. Even more terrifying is thinking about Mike seeing me without make-up on when I walk down the aisle. He would surely bail then.

It's so weird being in this uncharted territory. I can't imagine doing this at 22, like so many people do. I would have been an emotional hot mess. (Plus, the guy I was dating at 22 dropped out of college and now sells drugs. So life too would be a hot mess.)

When I tell people how close to the wedding we are, they exclaim, "Oh my gosh, how exciting!" I exclaim back, "Oh my gosh, not exciting, just scary!" They laugh, not realizing I'm serious.

Spray Tan-how I miss you!

My name's Jeannie, and I'm a spray tan-aholic. A few weeks ago, I told you about this super cool discovery I made that I can get a spray tan done at home. A darling girl, Riane from Glamourgirltan.com, comes to my apartment with all the best equipment, and a cool little tent I stand in so the spray doesn't go everywhere. With tons of bridal showers, bachelorette parties, and weddings this summer, I use Riane nearly every week.

Since we're only 2 1/2 weeks out from the wedding (yikes!), Rianne has cut me off. She wants the spray tan I get before I leave to be perfect, so she wants me to completely exfoliate. This picture shows what I look like after a spray tan. Not only am I darker, my makeup looks better and somehow I have great hair days. People are friendlier, the sky is bluer, and I look thinner.

Now that my tan is gone, I'm cranky, heavier looking, people are rude, and one of the dogs has diarrhea. It's amazing what problems paleness creates.

I'm counting down the days until I get hitched, not so I can spend the rest of my life with Mike, (yes, that will be nice too) but so that I can have my Kim Kardashian color back. I miss it so.

Sidewinders in the city

Have you ever seen a Sidewinder snake on the Discovery Channel? They are these creepy, slimy things that move all over the place to get to their destination. Their path is unpredcitable. Another name for Sidewinders? Chicago tourists.

The city is packed right now. There are tourists everywhere. You see them on tour busses, tour boats and walking everywhere. They don't know where they are going, and they take their sweet time getting there. This coupled with the fact that every restaurant has opened their sidewalk cafes, means there is little to no room to walk.

Enter in the Sidewinder tourists. They are people who are unaware of their surroundings and like to look at the big, shiny things nearly touching the sky, (a.k.a skyskrapers.) In their maneavering, the Sidewidners stumble all over the sidewalk like a bunch of college students after a long night at their local pub.

These tourists remind me of Sidewinders, because you get behind one and think you can easily pass on the left. As you begin to pass, they slide over to the left, blocking you and nearly stepping on your new pedi. Then you try and pass on the right, and voila! There they are again. You can almost hear a commentator with an English accent saying, "And here is Jeannie, a homosapien trying to make her way to work...when out of the blue, a Sidewinder tourist is blocking her path. The homosapien looks as if she might attack..."

I don't know what's worse: getting behind a Sidewinder with a big sunhat, map and a camera, or walking outside alone because it's 10 below zero. I'll let you know in August.

Sports or Reality TV-which sucks you in more?

I'll admit it, ratings-popular shows like The Bachelor and Dancing with the Stars squeeze out every ounce of the show, often making them way longer than needed. During ratings periods, Dancing with the Stars is on two nights a week, when it should only be one. I've gotten much more savvy though, so now I record the show and fast forward through the recaps, interviews with the "stars", and the awkward time fillers such as a behind the scenes look. I've even taken charge of my life by not watching the Bachelorette this season! I watched one episode and saw one of the contestants crying because he was really nervous about doing a kissing scene with Ali, the Bachelorette. Seeing a man cry over something lame like that, is in my opinion, unwatchable. If I wanted a pansy, well let's just say, I would still be with any of my ex-boyfriends.

Mike teases me about my love for drawn-out shows, however, have you thought about how much time is spent on sports??? The other night we were flipping through channels, and we shot past an NBA game. Mike said, "Man, the [Cleveland] Cavs should still be in that." What? That was months ago!! Sure enough, the NBA finals started around April 17th, and are still going on! Mike explained that 8 teams from the Eastern Conference and 8 teams from the Western Conference play each other. The teams have to win in a best of 7 series. 7!! Who has time for that??

He also told me that qualifying for the World Cup, which is going on now, started about 3 years ago, and now it's down to the final 32 teams. 3 years!

Sure, it would make sense for the Bachelor to take 3 years to decide on a future wife, but choosing in a few weeks makes it much more fun!

So whatever your guilty pleasure is-- either a dating reality show involving pansies and roses (and by pansies, I don't mean the flower) or big men sweating and running up and down a court, I say enjoy it! (And invest in Tevo, so you can fast forward through commercials and/or rewind so you can re-watch an awkward moment and suddenly feel much better about your own life.)

Credit Card Activations=Annoying

When did activating your credit card become such a hassle? I remember the days of calling the 1-800 number from my house phone, using an automated system to enter the last 4 digits of my social, and then my credit card was activated with zero human interaction--my favorite.

Now, the past several times I've called, I get a live person who tells me "Why we're waiting for your card to activate, let me tell you about a special plan we're offering for you." They go on to try and sell me a plan that helps me if I lose my job and can no longer afford to pay my credit cards. For a low monthly premium, I'll have that extra insurance.

Guess what people? I've been either underemployed or unemployed for nearly a year, and I've never missed a credit card payment. Hmm, maybe since I'm only working about 20 hours a week at a clothing store, I'll hold off on buying that speedboat I've always dreamed of. I guess many Americans don't have such self-control, hence why we're in this whole recession anyway.

On top of that, I know they're lying when they say "While we're waiting" because it's an automatic activation. Today I also had to listen to a perky girl tell me what a beautfiful day it is. Sure honey, I'm an optimistic person too, but you're clearly not in Chicago where it's in the Mid-60's, windy and raining.

The good news in all this? An underemployed person can apparently get approved for a card with a $13,5000 limit. Holla!

DISH Network never works

If you've ever thought, "Hmm, maybe I should get rid of cable and go for Satellite TV," run FAR, FAR, AWAY!! Take a look at this video! This is what you're going to get with DISH.

This morning, I needed to watch the news because the huge Blackhawks rally is going on, and much of the Loop is closed down. I have to go to work at 12:00 p.m., but I probably need to leave at 11:00 a.m. for what would normally be a 10-minute walk. So, I'm trying to watch the traffic report, and this is what I'm seeing. Video that's cutting in and out, digitizing, and not working.

This happens a lot.

When Mike and I moved in, we didn't have a choice, and had to get DISH network. Sure, it's nice having hundreds of channels, but if the sun is shining too much, the wind is blowing, or the dish in space is having a bad day, we don't get a signal.

When Mike tried to watch the Lost finale, we didn't have a signal.

When John Edwards' baby mama was on Oprah and I really wanted to watch, we didn't have a signal.

And when Brooke Burke was dishing how she got the hosting gig on Dancing with the Stars (potentially giving me great ideas), we didn't have a signal.

Dear DISH Network,

It's 2010, we've had men walk on the moon, we've discovered cures for all sorts of diseases, and we've even have 10-year-olds graduate from Harvard. Surely you should be able to figure out how not to suck.

Best,

Go Blackhawks!!

Oh lordy, I'm tired today thanks to the fireworks going off in our neighborhood last night, cars honking, and some idiot on the 45th floor who insisted on yelling, "Whoo Hoo!" from his balcony every 4-5 minutes for hours.

Yep, the Chicago Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup last night in a nail-biting game.  Of course, it wasn't nail-biting for me considering I was rooting for the wrong team the whole first half of the game because I thought we had the "reddish-orange jerseys." (We were in White)

This is exciting for the city because the Hawks haven't won a Stanley Cup in about 4 decades, so for the Whoo Hoo boy, he wasn't even born the last time they won.

Last night after my birthday dinner, Mike wanted to go to Lincoln Park to watch the ending of the game.  Thank goodness my feet were killing me and we didn't go, because the crowds were insane!  If my birthday had ended with me getting trampled and/or shot with a rubber bullet by officers controlling the crowd, I wouldn't have been happy.

Now I've got to figure out how to get to work tomorrow, because I live and work smack dab in the parade route for the celebration, and I'm guessing people will starting lining up at the crack of dawn.

Congrats Blackhawks, you certainly deserve it!  To Whoo Hoo boy, let me guess... you're single.

They say it's your birthday!!

                                                                          

Cheers, it's my birthday!  What a big summer this is...I'm turning 32, which isn't nearly as scary as it should be since my mind is focused on getting married in 3 weeks!

I've said it before, but I'll say it again, Facebook truly rocks.  When I woke up this morning, I had 37 Facebook messages wishing me a Happy Birthday, and they're still coming.  People from every stage of my life too...childhood friends, classmates, former co-workers, current co-workers...even a transvestite I met in Indy while do a media event.  Who could ask for more than that?

As I was waking up today, (late, of course!) I started thinking about what different birthdays meant to me.

* I remember being super excited about turning 10.  I was no longer a dorky single-digit...I was now a double-digit!  Hmm, as you get older, you really like single digits when it's comes to clothing sizes.  Funny how that works.

* When I turned 13, I was so stoked about becoming a teenager!  Good thing I didn't know it would be another 4 years until I had my first kiss.  Because I was?  A dork!

* When I turned 16, I was so excited to finally be able to drive, (a June birthday means you're one of the last ones in your class) and get the keys to my new red Fiero.  Too bad with my braces and oversized glasses I still looked 13, and I didn't have (m)any friends to ride with me.

* When I turned 18, I had just graduated from high school and was on my way to college to start my broadcasting degree and become a famous, rich news anchor!  (The whole recession/newsroom cuts that would come in 10 years, I clearly didn't see a comin'.)

* When I turned 21, I was so pumped to drink!  I remember taking my first drink, and having really shaky hands.  I guess I still felt like it was illegal and someone was going to bust me soon.  Now I live to get carded.

* When I turned 25, I was ecstatic that my car insurance rates were going down.  Considering I was making $20,000 in the "high-paying news business", every little bit helped.

* When I turned 30 I went with Mike, our friend Casey, and some of my girlfriends to Las Vegas and had a rockin' good time.  Somehow 30 doesn't feel so old when you see 80-year-old chain smoking women in the casino at 4 a.m.

So here I am, turning 32.  I thought by now I'd already be married with 6 kids, and be the main anchor in a major market.  Sure, life throws you some curve balls every now and again, (and I don't exactly have everything figured out), but I've never been happier in my entire life.

Shalom everybody!

Bridezilla, here I come!

How long do you think it takes a company to send out this dress to the customer who ordered it?  2 weeks?  3 weeks?  Try 3 months and counting.  Did I mention this is my wedding dress and I still haven't received it, and oh yeah, our wedding in his 3 weeks.

Deep breaths Jeannie, deep breaths.

C'mon Alfred Angelo, I ordered this dress on March 17th, and I didn't ask for Pope Benedict to bless it before you shipped it off.  Everyday I call and some 20's-something girl with a really high voice tells me, "It should be on its way."  Well guess what ladies, it's not.

Here is why you should always listen to your inner voice.  I went into the Alfred Angelo store in Fort Myers, Florida after my girlfriend/bridesmaid raved about the fabulous service she received there.  Like Julia Roberts Pretty Woman style, where the workers were bringing her dresses that would look fabulous on her.  When I went it, I was told to "help myself" and had to personally up-zip the protective bag around each dress just so I could see it.  Typically bridal shops don't want people's dirty digits on their dresses, but apparently mine were A-OK.

Then when I tried on the dresses (none of which were in my size), I had to come out of the dressing room holding it up for dear life so I didn't flash everyone there.  My girlfriend had someone pin her dress for her, but for me?  Nothing.

I hesitantly ordered the dress I thought would fit.  And did I mention I did so on March 17th?

And it's still not here.

I'm channeling my inner Bridezilla, and getting ready to call and argue with the Co-Manager on why I should get my money back.  Wish me luck and pray that I don't make her cry.

The coolest gift...ever

Mike and I just received what may be the best wedding presents....ever.  Aren't these paintings the cutest things you've ever seen?  As you can tell, Bailey and Buckeye already love them!  I got them this weekend from my good friend Brooke who was in town for my Bachelorette party.  I laughed so hard I started crying when I opened them.  I couldn't believe how well the artist captured my little nuggets.  You can even see a freckle Buckeye has next to his left eye.

Come to find out, I know this talented artist! Her name is Allison Kegley, and we met through mutual friends when I lived in Indy. She's a teacher by day, and paints custom pet paintings by night. You should check out her work at http://www.allisonkegley.com. She uses acrylic paint and her designs come in a variety of bright colors.  Allison says Andy Warhol is her inspiration, but I personally think she's even more talented.

Considering how much we all adore our pets, my prediction is Allison is going to make it huge!  Let's face it, most of us would rather hang out with dogs over people any day of the week.  Plus, dogs come with extra bonuses like feet licking (see Friday's post entitled "Dogs Rock.")

Thanks Allison and Brooke!

Another city perk

Just when I thought getting a spray tan was the coolest/most convenient thing ever, I am now enjoying another luxury of city living.  I just had $153 dollars worth of groceries delivered to my front door instead of having to carry them on my back like my usual torture.  I even answered the door in my robe--talk about cool!

I have 5 girlfriends in town for my 2nd Bachelorette party (Holla!), and I wanted to make them a really nice breakfast on Sunday morning.  I knew carrying all the groceries including a gallon of milk, gallon of o.j., champagne for the o.j., and tequila for the milk (Yum!) would be very heavy for the mile walk home.  So I remembered seeing these Peapod trucks in our neighborhood delivering groceries to people's high-rise apartments.  I looked it up, and realized the price is very reasonable.  The delivery price was only $6, and I had a $10 off coupon, so it's perfect!

Once you place your order, you choose a pick-up time and you have several hours to change your order.  Last night after a few cocktails, I "drunk ordered" some more stuff, because why should I live without Doritos?

When I finally get a full-time job, I've decided I'm going to Peapod it every week, because after an entire winter of schlepping my groceries a mile in the snow, well, I deserve it.  (I wonder how I'll tell that story to my kids?  It will probably end up being five miles in a blizzard, and I couldn't afford shoes so I got frostbite on my toes and nearly lost every tootsie.  Yeah--I like that.)

Dogs rock

This afternoon after getting home from work, I was exhausted.  The kind of tired in which you can't even get through your DVR recording of Oprah.  That's bad.

So I laid down to take a nap, and pretty soon I had company.  No, not Fernando from 31 A (I wish!), but instead my two Chihuahua's.  They both crawled under the covers, and one laid next to my stomach and the other one laid next to my back.  For the next hour, we slept away.  But here's the thing...considering they slept all day before I got home, they probably weren't tired, but because dogs are so sweet, they love to spend as much time with you as possible.

Seriously people, dogs are the best things....ever.  If you've ever thought about getting one, but aren't sure if it's too much work, I say get one.  They will give you a feeling of love you've never experienced before.  Here are the top reasons dogs rock.   

* Buckeye licks my feet until I fall asleep.  Gross, yes, but very relaxing.  Mike would never do that.

* You can dress dogs up, and for now apparent reason, put a toupee on one and take a picture.  They'll patiently stand still and let you take a pic.  They don't even get mad and pee on your shoes later. (Okay, some do that, but I don't think it's because of the toupee or the little Desperate Housedogs t-shirt you put on them)

* They'll bark when someone is at the door, alerting you to potential dangers.  Sure, they don't understand the pizza man is more of an angel than the devil, but we're working on that.

* They'll patiently sunbathe with you at your parent's vacation home in Jackson, Tennessee (see top picture).  Sure, they don't need the color (especially the black one), but they just love being with you.  Isn't that sweet?

* They'll kindly clean your shoes by licking them out every night.

* Sometimes they'll clean up after themselves by eating their own poo.  (Hey, I can't even get Mike to hit the toilet, so that's huge)

* No matter how long you're gone, they act like you're the coolest/best/smartest thing ever and they'll shower you with love.  What human will ever give you that greeting?

Why Twitter?

                                                         
I love social media.  The highlight of my day is checking Facebook, and seeing how many people checked "Like!" next to my update that says something like, "The future hubby made me spaghetti tonight with homemade sauce.  I think he's a keeper!"  I also love seeing girls who were bitchy to me in high school, and now have a lot of "junk in their trunk" (if you know what I'm sayin'.)  I also secretly love seeing an ex-boyfriend who married someone who, well, let's just say she must have a darling personality.  Facebook rocks.

But Twitter?  I just don't get it.  I've tried and tried, but it seems so pointless.  You basically do the same thing as Facebook--you post something about your day--only with Twitter you have a short amount of space to say it and no one responds.  On Facebook, when I posted the Mike/spaghetti comment, people wrote back, "Way to go Mike!"  Or, "Awe!"  On Twitter--nothing.  Your comments just go to a great abyss known as cyber space.  (I guess I like constant praise--it's a female thing.)

Here are some of my actual Tweets I know people just couldn't live without...

"Put 2% milk on my cereal today and it's so yummy!  Tastes like cream after years of skim."  April 29th, 7:56 a.m. (Don't you feel better knowing that?)

"Mike's bachelor party is this weekend.  Let's hope he doesn't wake up with Mike Tyson's tiger in his hotel room..." April 23rd, 8:50 a.m. (A Hangover reference.  Clever, right?)

"Apple Jacks may be the best cereal...ever." April 9th, 7:43 a.m. (True, but did you need to read that?  Probably not.)

"Why the tears Kate? [Gosselin] You're not a star or a dancer, so it's only natural you got kicked off the show." April 20th, 6:30 p.m. (Okay, clearly my life revolves around food and TV.  Not. Good.)

At least with Twitter, I can follow movie stars like Ashton Kutcher.  His post today says, "Kuwait translation: three guests come with no appointment....Love....Luck...Death."  (Okay, I think Ashton maybe smoking a little too much wacky tobacky.  I have no idea what that means.  Does Demi?)

The Name Game

There's a point in wedding planning when you realize there's no turning back.  That's when you have a mini panic attack, and you reach for the nearest bottle of vodka and/or Xanax.

Actually, I'm doing really well, but I find it's little things that make me realize this is for real.  Take this check for example..it was written out to Michael or Jeannie Evanchan.  Whoa!  I'm giving up my last name, people!  I guess I've known I would be doing that for quite some time, but seeing it in writing suddenly made it seem very real.

When I was back home, a married girlfriend told me there's a certain amount of sadness that goes with giving up your last name.  It's your identity.  It's who you've been for 31 years.  It's the name my Pops gave me, and his Pops gave him.  It's part of my English roots.  Plus, I've had really cool nicknames over the years.  Here are some I'll miss...
* Croftsy
* Croftsinator (You know, a spin off of Terminator.  It's probably my bulging muscles that gave me that nickname) 
* Croftstein (My Jewish friends adopted me one year for Hanukkah and the name stuck)
* Laura Croft, The Tomb Raider (I often get mistaken for Angelina Jolie.  It's a curse)

One problem with the name Crofts is that no one ever understands it over the phone.  Thank God I'm picking up Evanchan...that's much easier.