Things that go BOOM!

I always joke that my favorite movies are ones where things blow up. The more bullets spent and explosions there are the better the movie in my book. In reality, what I’m trying to say is I enjoy action packed movies. Making me watch a slow drama is equivalent to shoving bamboo shoots under my finger nails.

I didn’t realize how violent my movie tendencies were until I logged onto Netflix the other day. One of the things I like about Netflix is it will tell you that since you liked X movie, we think you might also enjoy Y movie. It will also create entire categories of movies it thinks you will like. Imagine my surprise when I go to check my queue one day and Netflix informs me it has created a “Violent Thrillers” category based on my taste in movies. Seriously, violent thrillers.

At first my thought was, this can’t be right, where did Netflix get this idea? And then I started scrolling through the movies under that category – yup, all movies I’d seen and really enjoyed. All movies with lots of bullets and explosions. Movies like American Gangster, Kill Bill and Wanted. Who knew I had such violent tendencies?

To be fair, I should have seen this coming. I’m the only girl I know who can keep up with the boys in discussing James Bond films. This morning in fact we were arguing over how many times Pierce Brosnan had played 007 (4) and which film had the character Solitaire (To Live and Let Die). I was right on both accounts. Now James Bond films aren’t the most violent movies on earth, but let’s be honest, the guy has no qualms about killing people when necessary.

What does it say about a person, when their most watched moves tend to be of a violent nature? Now I don’t know for sure, but I’m willing to bet that if I ever went off the deep end and started shooting up my office, one of things people would say was “well, she did prefer violent movies.” I’m also willing to bet that if I ever get married people wouldn’t think to say “she was a big fan of the romantic comedies,” which I am also a fan of. Hey, I may like explosions, but I’m still a girl.

Really I think it means I have a very short attention span. Movies where things blow up are loud and tend to keep you from falling asleep or diverting you attention. The same cannot be said for quiet movies that take place in the English country side where girls prance around the garden and drink tea for fun.

So thank you Netflix, for creating a category just for me. Although I’d prefer it didn’t use the term violent to describe my movie preferences, I’d be way more upset it the categories “Animation for Grownups” (a real thing!), “tearjerkers” or “super swashbucklers” had come up instead. After looking through the list of genera’s available, suddenly violent thrillers no longer seems so bad. Bring on the BOOMs!

Labels Are My Crack

It all started when I moved to Portland. Suddenly I had a different group of friends, ones who had jobs and money, not the poor college kids I’d spent the last four years with. At first, I just watched from a distance, wondering what it was like. Eventually I received some of my own as gifts, just to try. Before I knew it, my normally frugal self was spending my own hard money on it. When I made an impulse purchase last week on my way home from work, the severity of the situation finally hit me. My name is Heidi, and I am an addict. Designer labels are my crack.

Growing up in rural Montana, I thought labels were North Face and Levi Silvertabs. I knew nothing of the world of Coach, Kate Spade, Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo. That all changed when I moved to Portland, where every girl in the city has at least one Coach purse. For the longest time, I couldn’t fathom why labels mattered so much and why people spent so much money on them. And then I fell in love. No, not with a man, with a purse. It was a black, satiny, box-like Kate Spade. I have no idea what the actual name was. I call her Kate. The best mom in the world gave it to me for a birthday one year. The best mom in the world also gave me a small Coach and small Prada to start my collection. From then on I was hooked.

I have girlfriends who update their designer duds with the same regularity as their underwear. I tend to go with classic things I can use for a long time. Because lets face it, even though I love my labels, my frugal side usually wins out. For the first time this past December, I spent my very own money on not one, but two Kate Spade purses. To be fair, I bought them on sale through a crazy discounted website and got two for less than the price of one regularly priced purse, but I bought them none the less. I call one Kate the Second and the other Party Kate.

Buying designer labels is like taking up running. The first time is the hardest and it just gets easier from there. Since December, I’ve managed to acquire (i.e. purchase with my own money) two pairs of Coach sunglasses and a Coach coin purse. I did hold off on the Kate Spade wallet and another Coach purse. Why all the Coach and Kate you ask? Because as far as designer things go, they’re the bottom of the rung and I can’t even justify spending money on those. I can’t imagine the heart attack I would have if I bought something at full price, much less if I ventured into Louis Vuitton or Manolo Blahnik and actually purchased something.

Last Friday was when I realized I had a problem. I stopped by Nordstrom Rack on my way home and there they were. They called out to me as soon as I saw them. The perfect white sunglasses. My brother had recently informed me that girls who wear white sunglasses are hot. I figured I didn’t have anything to loose testing out that theory (besides a couple bucks) so I had my eyes open for a pair. They came home with me.

It’s a slippery slope I tell you. The first time, you’re sick to your stomach that you actually spent that much money on a purse or a pair of sunglasses and before you know it, you’re impulse purchasing them on a rainy Friday afternoon like it was nothing. I’m starting to seriously worry that Coach and Kate are my gate way drugs. Because from where I’m sitting, a pair of Manolo’s would look pretty fabulous on my feet.

Storms and Showers

Ptown has been plagued by extremely hot weather in the past two weeks. High 80’s up to 90 degrees even, which is not the norm for this time of year. The worst part was it wasn’t just hot, it was muggy as hell. To the point that I stopped straightening my hair for work, because the humidity made it curly on my walk to work anyway. It got so bad that I actually wanted it to rain. Last night, I got my wish.

I was at the gym, finishing up my run, when I noticed that it had gotten pretty dark outside considering it was only around 530pm. Then the wind started to pick up. Ahhh, this is the storm that is being talked about on every single TV in the gym. I picked up the pace for the last mile, hoping to be able to beat the worst of the storm home.

Unfortunately, by the time I was ready to leave the gym, a torrential down pour had started outside. It even smelled like rain out, which is something I really miss by living in an area that is constantly dripping. When I had left the house that morning, it had already been 70 degrees out so of course I had no jacket and no umbrella. After running five miles in a very stuffy gym with no air, I was already dripping a bit myself, so I figured this was as good a time as any to make sure I still don’t melt in the rain.

Lucky for me, it was still warm outside, but I was soaked within the first block. I slowly trudged my way home, my feet sloshing around in my shoes after only 2 blocks. Rain drops stuck to my eye lashes and when I looked up, I even got smacked right in the eye ball with a big fat rain drop.

Ten slow and very wet blocks later, I made it home, sweaty, wet and starting to get cold. This of course is when the sky really decided to open up and provide Ptown with a very rare treat – a thunder storm. I wanted nothing more than a nice hot shower, but something held me back.

You see, as a kid, I had spent all my waking hours at the local swimming pool during the summers. Whenever it started thundering, the lifeguards booted us out of the pool until there hadn’t been any thunder for at least 10 minutes. As a teenager, I became one of those lifeguards, kicking kids out of the pool whenever the thunder and lightening started. So you can imagine my confusion as I tried to reconcile my previous experiences with my intense desire to take a shower right then.

So I did what any intelligent and independent 28 year old would do – I called my parents to ask them if I would be struck by lightening if I took a shower during a thunder storm. My mom responded with a chucking “no,” quickly followed up by “but let me check with your father.” My father of course responded with a “no,” in a tone of voice reserved for his “what the hell kind of stupid question is that?” moments.

So, I took a shower and did not get struck by lightening. All the guys I work with thought this story was hysterical – how could I not know that I could take a shower during a storm? But seriously, I’d spent a significant part of my life being not being able to get in the water during storms, what was a girl to think?

The next step was of course Google. As it turns out, the Internet community is very split among the pro-shower and no-shower. It’s all very dramatic . . . so much so that I imagine it will be a huge part of the next presidential election. Okay, maybe not that dramatic, but people have very strong opinions on whether or not you should shower during a thunder storm. It turns out that the issue isn’t the water, but the fact that the current will travel through the pipes and anything touching them.

Despite my years of training to avoid water during a lightening storm, I am making the educated decision to take a shower if I need one. Because ya, I’m a rebel like that.

Sardines? Coming Right Up.

A couple years ago, I decided to take a very long flight to visit a friend who had recently moved to South Africa. Being that it was a few years ago, and I hadn’t quite achieved my travel snobbery that I currently have, I went for the cheapest flight option possible. The cheapest option possible at the time included flying out of Seattle (instead of Portland), connecting through London and then going on to Johannesburg. All in all travel included 40 hours in the air, six in the car, and I can’t even remember how many in layovers.

Now, I am not a tall person and fit relatively well in airplanes, but after 40 hours in an airplane, even I was complaining about the small accommodations. Upon my return, I emailed my friend who works for Boeing to complain about the leg room. She informed me that while Boeing builds the planes, each individual airline chooses their seat sizes, layouts, etc. After hearing this, I decided to forgive my friend for being part of the uncomfortable airline industry. Now I could focus my irritation on the airlines themselves.

Since that trip to South Africa, I have become more of a travel snob. I like direct flights at decent times, even if it costs more. I recently went with a friend to Hawaii and instead of meeting up with his flight in Seattle and having to deal with a layover; I went for the direct flight and met him at the airport. I just bought a plane ticket to Vegas, and although the flight down has a very brief layover in Seattle, it was at the time I wanted. I have decided in my old age, that comfort and convenience is well worth a few extra bucks.

With the memory of being stuffed like a sardine into an airplane still fresh in my memory, even at my vertically challenged size, you can imagine my surprise when I saw in article in the WSJ today. Turns out, airlines are again making the decision to reduce leg room. Airlines are buying the same size planes, but squeezing 10-12 more seats in each plane! Some are even taking food galleys out of planes and putting in smaller chairs. Again, I’m not a large person, but I barely fit in an airplane seat.

The one benefit of the planes with smaller seating areas is that many offer bigger over head bins. Great idea, since they all now charge for checked luggage. Anyone else noticed that it takes longer to board a plane since everyone is overstuffing a carry on suitcase and still trying to stuff it into a tiny bin? Although with more seats on the plane, more people will bring more suitcases and be fighting for space.

I understand that traveling is a privilege (as long as it isn’t for work), especially being able to afford air fare instead of having to drive places. And while I’m small and can actually fit into an airplane seat without an excessive amount of discomfort, I always end up next to the giant on the plane who has to overflow their body parts into my space. Not comfortable to start with, but imagine if you have an exceptionally large personal space bubble too.

If I barely fit into an airplane seat, I can’t fathom being around 6 feet tall and having to fit into an airline seat for hours at a time. Is it really in the best interest of the airlines to for go customer comfort to squeeze in a few extra people? All of our previous air privileges have already been taken away to save a buck – do you really have to treat us worse than sardines too?