Clementine the cat and the things I will do for nailpolish freedom


Friends, foes, and fellow readers:

It’s been a while.  I wish I could say I’ve been busy, but I don’t lie in my blogs.  Between Netflix, having only 1 Community College Finals (note, I specifically put in the type of final.. because it’ll be THAT easy), and this beautiful weather, I’ve been gliding through life.  It’s amazing how happy and positive you can feel just because of a little sunshine.  That sunshine brings out little flowers and lots on animals.  Instead of picking flowers though, I brought home an animal…

I am the proud momma of Clementine Deutschman.  Clementine is a beautiful orange fluffball that like kitten chow and small bowls of milk.  When he isn’t sleeping or being harassed by my siblings, Clementine can be found hissing at my other cat Tangerine (get the names now? Yeah, I’m creative!) or visiting the vet due to his many ailments.

$150 dollars later, I have found out that like many mothers I underestimated the cost of my child.  Talk about a money sucking black hole.

A very cute money sucking black hole though.

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And once you find out that additional costs are accruing, it would only be practical to quit your job.. right?

Welp.  That’s what I did!  I’ve enjoyed my time at Coach, but would like a little freedom for the summer.. and I would like to get away from handbags (unless I’m buying them myself).  I’m not living off of mommy and daddy though, I have to be able to eventually afford Manhattan after all: I got a new job!

*round of applause, fire works, those obnoxious whistles you hear at sporting events*

I will be waitressing on weekends at the Youngstown Yacht Club.

The hours are less, but the pay is better and it’s uncharted territory.  I’m excited to take a risk and get belittled by people over food instead of handbags.

LOL.

But seriously, I know what I’m in for.  I just want a change of scenery and Coach wouldn’t cooperate with working at both the Yacht Club and there.  I hope it’s everything I want it to be..  Khakis and a polo are the proper attire, it’s certainly preppy enough.

And I’ll be meeting A LOT of people over filet mignon, just maybe not the way I expected to.

I also applied for weekday jobs and a few ice cream places, but that’s just because I know I’m going to be bored eventually.

And also for my sanity once the kids come home for the summer.

I could just get a hobby, find a blogging club.. buy a cute little pink bike to ride around the neighborhood.  Something.

But how fantastic is it that I will finally have time to breath, stop constantly working (both with school and a job), and paint my finger nails whatever color I want?

I knew I wouldn’t last long with Coach’s nail polish communism.

Their loss.

Allison

Photo on 5-5-13 at 2.55 PM #2

Patience and Faith


Patience is not a virtue I possess.  

I’ve known this for a long time, but with college acceptances and internship verdicts there is no exception.  It has been 41 days since my Coach internship interviews.  More than 41 days since I tweaked my resume and stressed over which outfit to wear.  It has been 18 days since I was supposed to notified.  I’m obviously handling that very well…

So I’ve e-mailed, tweeted, and complained through whatever means necessary to try and get some answers.  I finally resorted to THE PHONE CALL today.  

“Hello this is Allison Deutschman, I was a candidate for the Coach internships back in March.  I was just calling to find out when candidates would be contacted or if you would be contacted even if you were declined the opportunity?”

“Hi Allison, the candidates will be contacted tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thank you!”

“You’re Welcome.”

“Good Bye.”

I know I rambled, I tried to get straight to the point.. but hey at least I know tomorrow is the day.

Tomorrow I will have the verdict on how I will be spending my 78 days of my summer.  On the couch watching netflix 24/7… or in the city where dreams are made (with a side of netflix).

I have finally decided how I am spending my fall, winter, and spring for the next 2 years: at FIT.  The deposit is in, the decision is final.  I am going to be completing my Bachelor’s Degree in Fashion Merchandising at the United States’ best Fashion school. 

Muy Bueno.

I’m pretty excited about this.  I’m also scared about of my mind, but I am really really pumped.

This upcoming fall semester will be so different from my last one.  I’m already talking to some girls about getting an apartment.   I choke about every time I hear about housing expenses, but hey you can’t have it all.

I’m in a really good mood today.  I think it is because the weather is feeling pretty Floridian, it’s reached the low 70s and although there are still pine trees instead of palm trees in my front yard I will take it.  

I wish I had a cute beach hat.. I love the ones I found on my new favorite site: http://www.marleylilly.com.  I wish cute beach hats were socially acceptable about the Mason Dixon line.

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Speaking of cute hats, I went to an estate sale last week and saw these lovely big hats in lovely hat boxes from at least 20 years ago.  They were very dressy and totally not the norm, but I drooled and debated.  I ended up buying a Coach purse (surprise surprise) and fur trimmed coat (I FEEL LIKE I BELONG IN OLD HOLLYWOOD) instead, thinking I would come back for the hat if it was still there the next day.

But the whole house was gone the next day.

That mansion burned to a crisp, along with the hat and little old man with Alzheimers inside of it. Talk about goose bump causing.

This week has certainly had some nationwide disasters. Between Boston and Texas, I’m scared to know what could happen next.

I didn’t go to church this past Sunday and I need to go this Sunday because just in case one of these disasters involves me.. I need God to know I love him.

My faith has been wavering a little bit lately.  I’m not a huge fan of this church that my parents go to and I never was a fan of the church before that.  I know that the world is just testing me, but in such a scary place I need to have faith.

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I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.


I’m laying in bed, on my fifth or sixth episode of Sex and The City, I’ve lost count.  Whenever I type, Carrie Bradshaw’s voice is ringing in my words.  Now that Gossip Girl is over (may she rest in peace) I’ve gone back a decade at least and I am obsessing over Manhattan’s other It girls.  Think back to the days when Blair Waldorf and Serena Van der Woodson would have been walking the halls of some middle school.  Streets away Samantha Jones was doing what she does best -men.  Charlotte York was gracefully floating down Park Ave to her gallery.  Miranda Hobbes was being successful and awkward.  Carrie was writing the perfect thing on that 1999 Mac, confusing women more than ever before.  I conquered The Hills, a more recent throw back, during my January Break as well as Lipstick Jungle, a forgotten short lived urban fashion flick.  I get attached to whatever I can find on Netflix or through the iTunes store and live through it.  These powerful sexy elite women had fun and ambition.  They grabbed life by the balls (-thats for you Samantha) and lived it, meanwhile I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

I sent my mom a text this morning with goals.  It consisted of “losing twenty pounds, find some decent new friends (since all of my old ones must have gotten hit by busses, the only explanation for why they haven’t been in touch), getting a pug, moving out, buying a Coach multi-purpose tote (Random pregnant Bitch bought the last one to use as a diaper bag on Sunday -the nerve), and become Carrie Bradshaw.” She told me some of those would be difficult, and that one was impossible.  

Obviously, I replied saying I knew 20 pounds was pushing it.

I can’t have these women’s lives, but I can covet the delusional perfection that Hollywood planted on my computer screen.  I can drool over Manolo Blahniks and cry over one night stands on their behalf.. because God knows I’m getting neither.  I can avoid reality for the next 75 days with my BVFF (best virtual friends forever).  I saw my first pair of Christian Louboutons on the feet of an adjunct professor at Community College today during my Bowling class today.  The 500 dollar shoes (minimum) looked out of place in the same mile radius as my ugly rubber color blocked bowling shoes.  I wondered if they’d look out of place near or on me regardless though.

I told myself in high school that my first salaried pay check would be dedicated to black glossy red soled pumps.  I still think I’d live on Raman Noodles for a month before letting those babies sit on a shelf, once I had a real career.  I’m not concerned that it won’t happen.

I’m concerned that I can’t even picture what I’ll be doing to expand my shoe collection.

Allison