Let's face it: I'm pretty fucking incredible

There seems to be a movement within my lady internet circle to put aside the self-deprecating comments that we broads have grown far too comfortable making. It began with the Maiden Metallurgist calling on her readers to list three things that they love about themselves without qualifying or dismissing them. Next, Rachel and the Pop Culture Librarian followed up with similar posts and the former has asked me to do the same. I think that this is a great idea, albeit one that makes me a little uneasy as I am the queen of self-deprecation. This is a habit that I needed to break for, if nothing else, constantly criticizing yourself might convince others to believe the criticism.

So, here we go, ladies. I'm in. Today, this very moment, I am going to make a resolution to knock off the self hate and start with the self love. It ain't New Years, my friends, but tomorrow is a new day. Care to join me? Write your own post or leave me three things that you love about yourself in the comment section. Here are mine:

1. I am hilarious.

2. I have a scar above my left knee. I love it's shape and, even though it's small, I think that it makes me unique.

3. I am very brave.

Having trouble getting comfortable with this whole idea? Listening to Empire State of Mind eight kajillion times really seemed to help me, but it's effectiveness might vary by geographic location. How about listening to the band Chicago or the songs Sweet Home Alabama,
Back Home in Indiana, If You're Going to San Francisco Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair, Take Me Back to Tulsa, or the Tenessee Waltz?

Sweat

So, the Summer of '09 officially kicked off yesterday and I sit as living proof of that. I write, sweating my balls off, from my couch. Or I would be if I had balls... but even then, I wouldn't have balls because they would have been sweat off. Oy! This heat is making me talk crazy. Seriously, Wisconsin! Must we resort to such extremes? Cold and dry. Hot and humid. How about warm with a soft breeze? Too much to ask? Blah. I bitch, but Madison summers are known for being crazy awesome. All of the students are gone, so the townies get to reclaim their city for a few months, which means late night patio drinks, seeing free music at the Union, biking, and eating amazing local produce.

Speaking of fun summer activities, today I went with some friends to Lake Ripley in Cambridge, WI. Did you know that Madison's lakes are supposedly unswimmable? They are, which is why we have to drive a half-hour to go swimming. Not that I'm complaining. Lathering up with sunscreen, cracking a High Life, and blasting some Santogold- I don't think that I could ask for much more. It was so relaxing that I even fell asleep for a bit, face-down into my towel.

Tomorrow is going to be in the nineties and I'm searching desperately for some air-conditioned space to sit in for a few hours. I think the closest that I'll get is sitting in my mom's shadowy downstairs, drinking smoothies, and watching hours of Generation Kill (which, by the way, is turning me into an even angrier person). In the evening, I'll be celebrating my roommate's birthday with a soiree at our house that will include pizzas baked in ovens (ick) and whole bunch of white wine (yay).

This was the worst blog post ever. Sorry, but I'm feeling a complete blog-related lethargy (blogthargy?) and I fear that, if I don't push through it now, it might be September before I post again.

Better stuff to come, I swear.

My muffin top is all that

Internet, I have once again failed you. But I have excuses! Travel! Interviews! Exams! Funerals (boo)! Internet outages! House guests! Dance parties! See, I wasn't just watching Real Housewives marathons- I was actually leading a busy life. When I did have a bit of leisure time, I was sleeping. Perhaps it says something about leading a pretty privileged life, but I'm not used to actually feeling sleepy when I go to bed. Tired, sure, but it usually takes me at least an hour to actually fall asleep Lately, however, I've been out soon as my head hits the pillow.

I mean it sincerely when I tell you that I've missed blogging. So many weird things have happened that have made me think 'ah, man. I can't wait to blog about this,' but then I get home and my roommate's mom from Canada is sleeping on the couch or I realize that I've been living in squalor for the past few months and I can't put off cleaning anymore or another one of the billion things that I have to do pops up and I forget all about it. Either that or I pull a Dr. Spaceman and try to remember to blog about it later by repeating it three times out loud. Even now, I should be doing some stupid stats homework (summer classes make my heart hurt), but instead, I'm writing you. See, that is what I call loyalty.

What I'm really about to do right now is take said stats homework and go to the pool where I will proceed to blind everyone with my glorious white flab. Even worse, I couldn't find my flattering swimsuit so the other patrons will get a delicious dose of muffin top. Jealous?

I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW.

I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW. I PROMISE I WILL POST TOMORROW.

Saying it enough times will undoubtedly make it happen... right?

Shuster, you might just have to make some room

I’m debating setting up a twitter account. I know that twitter is old news and every blogger and their mothers have covered it, but I’m a little behind, nay, reluctant on the times. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t judge the twitterers out there, I just know that I will go bananas over it and waste hour after hour writing things like, “I just ate my third bowl of Raisin Bran” or “What would happen if I was given a chance to swap bodies with a turtle?” Maybe it could be kind of funny. I’m probably better in short form. In fact, I suggest that you only read one to two sentences of my blog per day. It’ll make more sense over time.

I don’t know what’s holding me back. I rock those Facebook status updates like a motha fucka, so it’s not like I’m all worried about being self-indulgent (this blog is evidence enough of that). I’m not afraid of sharing the mundane details of my life, either. In fact, I’m always terribly surprised when someone isn’t entertained by my stories about seeing a bee on my run or trying a new shampoo.

Chances are that I’ll be signed up for one by the weekend. I remember when a friend first had to “talk” me into a Myspace account (ah, when the world was as simple as Myspace). The conversation pretty much went like this:

PQK: I don’t want a Myspace account. They’re so trendy.
Friend: I don’t know, you should get one just t—
PQK: OKAY!

I guess I just need to wrap my head around how much time will be devoted to tweeting (right?). To be fair, I did finally finish watching The Wire so I got a little bit more time on my hands. It’s not like I’m some sort of nerd who’ll now use those hours productively. Jeeze.

Tell me readers, do you twitter? Would you read my twitter? Are you proud of me for not saying twatter once this entire post? Cause believe me, I wanted to.

P.S. Something awesome happened to me yesterday. It’s likely that I’ll be flying out to NYC to interview for my dream internship. I’ll keep it vague until I know whether or not it’s okay to be specific. We wouldn’t want this little po’dunk blog to ruin the chance of lifetime, would we?

Bucked up on nasal spray and optimism

Just to let everyone know, I'm out of my funk. The day after I wrote that last entry, I got kind of sick, which explains (to an extent) my emotional hysteria. Yes, bring on the birthday and I'll be happy anyway that it comes (runny nose and all), just as long as I spend it with my family and closest friends (one of whom has taken off work to have dinner with me)!

Let's move on from less sentimental topics, shall we? Here are things that I should have been blogging about instead of feeling like a lame-dash-oh:

-How much I hate Terrance Howard
-A dream that I had in which I was helping Mary Louise Parker find a sperm donor. I referred her to my friend who happened to be OMAR from The Wire
-How much I love The Wire
-The awesome new art that I just got framed (more later).
-How my mother celebrated a birthday of her own.
-Needing to come clean about watching a full episode of Sober House with Dr. Drew.
-Having a coffee with the head writer of The Colbert Report (more later?).
-Anything else. Anything else at all.

Grass and suitcases

Just to be clear, I'm not getting married. I don't mean that in an "I'm never getting married" type of way. I'm all for marriage. In fact, I think that any adult should have the right to experience wedded bliss. Or not. You know, do whatever is right for you. Boy, do I love rights. Back on topic, I'm currently not getting married, but that doesn't stop me from reading blogs from people who are. Recently, reading Cup of Jo, I found the most charming save-the-dates.



The couple, supposed middle school sweethearts (gag me with my own loneliness), lied in the grass to have this picture taken. Despite my bitterness, I love the way that it turned out.

A Very Merry Pop Quiz Kid Christmas

I made you a "thank you" video. It speaks for itself.



Happy Holidays!

Fashion show! Fashion show! Fashion show at launch!

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I'm very proud to introduce a new venture. Rachel and I have teamed up to start a fashion blog. I give you...

...Lake City Lake!



Please stop by and check it out! In a nutshell, the blog will include "what I wore" posts, inspiration posts, "what I wish I wore" posts, and basically anything else pertaining to style. What makes this fashion blog different from all of the rest? Us. Booyah.

Are you there, blog? It's me, the PQK

Alright, yall. It’s been awhile. Many of you have probably gone on to find new and better blogs. How can I blame you? I wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with a blog this unreliable and distant either. But please, I’m begging you to give me one more shot to explain myself.

Over the past month, there have been numerous occasions where I have sat down to write entries, like “What would it be like to live with aliens?!” (I sort of know, I live with a Canadian) or “If I was a has-been Backstreet Boy, which one would I be?” (Wikipedia has just informed me that they are still together. I wonder how that’s going), but for each crazy topic line, I was only left with a blinking curser.

Truth be told, there were a lot of other things keeping me from the blogosphere. University (yes, I’ve acquired British dialect since I’ve been gone and am far to sophisticated to say “college”) has been working me to the bone (and not in a sexy way)—essay after essay, exam after exam. While I’ve only been working weekends, work has been driving me a little cuckoo, too. Gosh, it’s a good thing that the creative writing degree that I’m so tirelessly working on will provide such a lucrative career. Then I’ll really get out of the service industry, huh? crickets
There’s been a wee bit of fun in there, too. I went to visit my friends, nicknamed A-mos (a lá Bennifer), in Philadelphia. Maybe I’ll do a Philly post in honor of the upcoming primary, complete with photos.

I digress. The fact is I was feeling pretty void of creativity and the little bit that I could muster generally went into dressing up in spring ensembles and narcissistically photographing myself in front of my window. Keep in mind, I really wanted to write, but geez louise was it not going well. What was wrong with me? Usually blogging is a welcomed form of procrastination from my wacky schooly world. Was I sick? Was it time to throw in the towel?

I did a little research, scouring the web for new blogs and carefully reading my old favorites. What do these people have that I didn’t? It hit me. I was trying way too hard. Each entry I tried to write in the last month was so lame because all it was was me trying to show you how clever and awesome I am. Somehow, through the internet, I had reverted back to the Pop Quiz Kid of middle school days, showing up to class in my new sketchers and Jennifer Aniston haircut only to have the popular kids laugh about it later.

So I’ve decided to make the same decision now that I did then (only this time, it won’t involve flared jeans and Blink 182 t-shirts) and stop trying so god damn hard. One thing that all of the bloggers that I like have in common is their sincerity or at least the talents to fake it. So here we go, embarking on a new path with the Pop Quiz Kid… that is if you’ll have me back.