I asked that you remind me of two things: (a) The story of how I spilled beer on someone’s kid, and (b) how we ran into a CELEBRITY at a bar in Chicago. You did neither.

Well, I forgive you and I’m telling you Story B right now. Last Saturday Night, in Chicago, we ran into the ONE AND ONLY, MYSTERY. We’re pretty sure he was teaching one of his “in-field workshops” as he was surrounded by a bunch of awkward looking men. Also, I’m not sure you can tell by the photo, but he also had quite a harem of um, skanks around him. I would have liked to have my photo with him, because that in a frame would have been a fantastic Christmas gift for friends and family (what? it wouldn’t have been?)

Anyway, we were SO EXCITED because (a) The Pickup Artist is our total guilty pleasure show on VH1, and (b) we were maybe a little bit intoxicated. So, tell me, do you watch this ridiculous show? Or, have you run into a celebrity as fantastic as Mystery.

Alternate Title: In which my J.Crew babies are kidnapped

Despite a lovely, lovely time in Providence, I was quite excited to come home yesterday. Hotel beds are comfy, but I missed my own pillows, the furry large creature that I live with, and I knew there were many items waiting for me on my DVR (Real Housewives!). Oh, also, my boyfriend, I missed him. There was a tight connection to be made in, which was made even tighter as our flight out of Providence was delayed. We (I was traveling with two colleagues) made it on the plane in time and after quite a long wait we were on our way home.

I slept almost the whole flight (BONUS!) (except, apparently I missed an opportunity to WIN at a trivia game my friends were playing) and upon landing in Portland, my First, Middle, AND Last Name was announced over the intercom. My bag, it didn’t make it to Portland.

So, you know how they tell you not to pack your prescription meds in checked luggage? Yeah, my hormones are in there. Be glad you’re not hanging with me today! Hot Flashy! Moody! I’ve got it all.

Apparently, my bag will arrive here at my house around noon – but – we’re leaving shortly for Eugene to see my beloved Ducks. I’m washing the jeans I wore last night and am trying to figure out how to style my hair without my flat iron.  I don’t NEED all my new clothes from my suitcase right this very second. But, I think we all know what it’s like when we’re separated by things we love.

This title is a lie. I cannot do bullets on my phone.

I am sitting on a plane at JFK which will hopefully get me home in a timely fashion.

Speaking of fashion, my colleague tells me that the winner of Project Runway is on out flight.

And, with that. It is time to turn my phone off. Normal posting will resume when I am home and have caught my breath.

Friends, have a great weekend.

I have something I need to know. Your job? Is to enlighten me. GOT IT? Oh, also no laughing, because as my WR121 Professor at UO told me, “The only stupid question is what time does this class let out.”

You know how sometimes there are a pair of shoes thrown over the power lines? Is that supposed to mean something?

Also, how the hell do they get that shit up there?

Okay, carry on (but, first tell me what that means).

Friends, I’ve shopped all of Portland AND Chicago AND online, and I still cannot find suitable options for the following. So, HELP ME…

• Black Cardigan – MUST have sleeves that go AT LEAST past my forearm.
• Black Driving Moccasins – MUST come in size 11
• Black Low Heel Boots – DUH
• Inexpensive Jeans that are not LAME and come in LONG option. Am normally a jeans snob, but refuse to spend that much on my Lupron Size.
• Some sort of dressy, brown shoes – In guess what? SIZE 11!

Bonus Question: I turn 30 in 28 days. I need a really cute blouse to wear with my beloved J.Crew Lulu Peep Toes and J.Crew Trouser Jeans.

Thank you, you’re all swell.