Secret Santa Grinch

Oh my gosh guys, I am so embarrassed (side note: how many blog posts have I started with this introduction now? I’m having a serious case of Déjà vu).

I made such a silly mistake that made me seem like the biggest jerk ever.

So basically my good friend Kalika and I decided to set up a snail mail secret Santa. Sounds fun, right?! It’s the same a regular one — you draw a name and that’s the person you’re giving a gift to, except it’s all done by mail! She and I both love care packages and snail mail, so it’s perfect. You’re welcome, USPS.

Anyway, Kalika found a cool website called DrawNames.com that does all the organizing for you. You set up a profile in your little group, which includes your first and last name, address, and who you are supposed to send a gift to.

I’m not necessarily technologically challenged, but I also wouldn’t say technology and I are absolute BFFs. I’d say we’re really good friends because he’s super cool and entertaining and a generally good guy, but he sometimes decides to stab me in the back… So I should just be extra-alert when we’re hanging out.

Anyway, I was really confused when I got a package from Amazon in the mail.

What the heck did I order? I wondered to myself.

I’ve been doing some shopping for friends online lately, but I couldn’t remember purchasing anything from Amazon. Especially an item that would come in a slim envelope like the one sitting on my porch! The only thing I could really reason was that Petzi, the present Robert had sent me from Amazon, had forgotten something in my first package.

I went to the kitchen and opened it, only to find this note and Amazon gift card enclosed:

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What in the world?! I thought to myself. Who could have possibly known I would want a Kylie lip kit? Yes, I have been more into makeup lately — especially lip products — but I don’t remember talking to anyone about this particular item.

My first thought was Robert, as he’s always great at giving gifts randomly, and even better at reading my mind (As you will see in my next post!). I thought about it a little more, though, and there were too many things that didn’t add up. First, he wouldn’t have a clue what kind of makeup things were “trendy” right now. These lip kits are kind of for makeup (Or KUWTK) fanatics. Second, he’s probably never in his life purchased any sort of lip products, so wouldn’t realize that some of these kits can get very expensive compared to others. Third, how the heck would he ever pick out a color for me?! Girls would know that I’d be into the “Candy K” or “Kristin” shade, but Robert might think trying something risky like “Dead of the Night” or worse — “Trick” would be cool. Yikes.

I sat down and thought really hard. Then it all hit me at once.

Oh my gosh, my brain went into panic mode as I rushed to my laptop. My fingers thought faster than my mind, and swiftly typed “Gmail” into the browser. Then I searched, “Secret Santa” and clicked on the last email link we had been sent. It took me to the group page and I clicked the blue “Krista.” This is what I was met with:

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Everything clicked all at once as I had a flashback.

The day we created this page I was offered to “create a wishlist” for what I wanted. I remember thinking how stupid this option was, as you shouldn’t ask your Secret Santa for exactly what you want. What’s the point if you’re just going to request something? I still clicked the link, though, because the “Kylie Lip Kit” suggestion caught my eye. I scrolled through the page of recommendations, and clicked out of the page, never to give it a second thought.

Until now.

I seemed like such a jerk to some girl I don’t even know! Everyone in the Secret Santa group ended up being Kalika’s friends, most of whom I hadn’t met. I immediately felt like a moron, as any of my friends would understand this was just another goofy “Krista story,” but this person just had the impression that I demanded Kylie lip kits right and left. I looked back at the incredibly sweet note she had included and felt even worse. Most people would be so annoyed at someone demanding something that was more than twice the amount we were supposed to spend for this gift exchange, but this girl was so sweet and genuine about her gift that I really felt bad. I quickly texted Kalika with a rant about how embarrassed I was, and sent this message to the Secret Santa group:

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Luckily the person who gave me this sent me a message and was so kind about the misunderstanding, but it was still lightly traumatic for me. I hate being high maintenance or making other people feel uncomfortable, which is so unfortunate considering the person I am and how often I make goofy mistakes.

Today’s lesson: I should not be allowed to try new technologies — at least if they can affect another person!

TBT: The Trial Of Twilight Vampires

It’s about time for another embarrassing story, right?

Since I haven’t been on an awkward first date in months I haven’t collected as many new funny Krista stories. This is good for the little pride I have left, but bad for my blog. “Luckily,” life just loves to tease me, and my newest story comes from one of my grad school classes.

I’ve probably mentioned this before, but I am getting my Master’s in English right now. I never planned to go back to school, but since I got POTS and couldn’t work I decided I might as well do something productive while I recover.

My undergraduate degree was in Communication and Journalism, so although I loved my English requirements as well, I never took extensive English classes — just the three everyone else took. I am honestly not a huge fan of classic literature and do not remember most of what I learned studying lit in high school.

Everyone else in my grad classes has a background in English. They all studied some sort of English for their Bachelor’s; I made the mistake of referring to Frankenstein as the monster instead of the scientist once and immediately regretted it, as the entire class angrily corrected me in unison. I’m pretty sure they wished that they had a dunce cap they could bestow upon me for the rest of the semester.

Anyway, needless to say I was less than thrilled when my professor told us to all think of some books we could write about for an in-class exercise. I quietly offered The Grapes of Wrath as a suggestion, as that was a novel I enjoyed reading in high school — though I did not remember the majority of the book.

Other books the class mentioned included Wuthering Heights, Fahrenheit 451, Great Expectations, 1984, and Twilight, which got a tremendous amount of laughter as it was written on the board.

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We then had to mention different events in history. I might sound a bit like a moron, but memorizing dates is not my strong suit. I was afraid of being wrong about events in history as our professor called out different dates and we matched several events during that time period. Some of the events listed included: The Peloponnesian War, The Battle of The Bulge, The JFK Assassination, and several other things I vaguely remembered learning about, but couldn’t seem to think of many specific details from. At the last minute someone added the OJ Simpson trial to the list.

Our task was to connect a novel from the list on the board with one of those events in history, as well as add a personal experience into the mix.

Great, I thought. The only book I truly remembered the gruesome details from was Twilight, and sadly I couldn’t remember enough details fast enough in the “real” historical events to write about them, so by default had to choose the OJ trial.

Twilight and the OJ trial. I was writing a paper about vampires and a real-life monster. Got it.

I ended up forcing that as my main connection, and adding a story of a close friend who was in a difficult relationship as the personal context. Needless to say everyone died laughing when I mumbled that I had picked Twilight as my novel, and the laughter continued as they heard I connected Edward Cullen to OJ Simpson. This was easily the least favorite class assignment I have ever done.

Today’s lesson: You do learn useful information in high school. I think they are preparing you to not be embarrassed when you fail to know simple facts in graduate school.

I Probably Need Glasses

Every time I go to my annual checkup I ask the doctor to check my vision. Why? Because it’s terrible! My night vision is particularly bad; I have literally bumped into walls in the middle of the night when trying to find the bathroom.

I never realized this might affect my dating life, but now I have a new story to tell my doctor when he asks why I think I have bad eyesight. I was on OKCupid mindlessly clicking through the site and decided to try the “Quick Match” feature. I had never used it on a PC before, so was checking out the differences between that and the app on my iPhone.

Anyway, I scrolled to the “Quick Match” section and noticed that they offered three different photos and you could click on one that you liked. Interesting, I thought to myself. I guess you choose your favorite guy and it will “like” him before going to the next group of pictures.

Right. Right. Middle. Left. Middle. Right.

I clicked through about ten groups of photos until I realized the system was glitching.

Why are there three pictures of the same guy? I wondered to myself. Am I supposed to help him enhance his profile or something by choosing one of his profile photos? My thoughts of helping him in his dating endeavors immediately trailed off as it all clicked.

“Oh no!” I exclaimed to myself. I had just liked ten profiles in a row — the photos weren’t of different guys, but rather they were offering me a small sample of one man’s profile photos to see whether or not I was interested in him. I saw a small “X” in the corner and realized you “like” a profile by clicking on any of the photos, or you can “pass” on it by clicking the small white “X.”

I laughed awkwardly, embarrassed at my mistake.

I’m not sure whether these gentleman had mixed in old and new photos, making the photos all look fairly different from one another or if I was just terribly unobservant. Either way, this might explain why I sometimes have trouble recognizing my dates when we meet up.

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Today’s lesson: My doctors have been lying to me for years now. There’s absolutely no way I have 20/20 vision.

You Asked For It…

It’s been awhile since I’ve told a funny date story, so now I’m going back to my first Match.com date! Everything started out fine; we met in front of the restaurant and walked in together to get seated.

Our conversation started with the typical first meeting interview — what we’re doing with our lives, what we enjoy doing for fun, etc. My favorite question to ask is always, “What is the weirdest date you’ve been on?” People have given me such crazy answers, as most of the guys I’ve gone out with have been on other online dates. My favorite story was something that contained going to Kim Kardashian’s home, saving dogs from flooding, and a prize-winning pig, all wrapped up in one (I looked into it later and the story was, in fact, true). It’s a long story and not really mine to tell, but trust me when I say you have to ask this question on your next first date.

Anyway, our conversations were pretty normal, but this particular gentleman and I didn’t seem to have a lot in common. I like dogs, he likes cats (This is an important question in my book; I am not sure if I could date someone who isn’t a dog person, as my dream is to have around six one day). He loves hiking, I can’t do that right now. He loves politics, I am more into entertainment news. The topics of conversation flowed pretty seamlessly, even with the lack of chemistry.

My incredibly awkward moment didn’t come until the token “most uncomfortable part” of any date — picking up the check.

Goodness knows I’ve been on enough first dates that I should be used to this part by now, but I absolutely hate it. Please just let me pay my own way, I always think to myself. I don’t even know you; you don’t owe me anything. 

Right before our waiter brought over the check, this gentleman and I were talking about my dream to work in the entertainment industry. I told him that I watched embarrassing shows like The Bachelor and then trailed off before bringing up my guiltiest pleasure of all — Keeping Up with The Kardashians (Please don’t tell anyone, though. This is our little secret).

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Yes, I went out of the way to go to the Dash store in Soho. Just call me “Krista Kardashian.”

 

Anyway, he seemed to read my mind, as he slyly asked, “Do you like KUWTK?”

I blushed and nodded, “But I only really watch it when I’m at the gym.” This is a half-truth.

“Do you?” I fired back, trying to take the attention off of myself.

Enter: the waiter.

I had been fumbling with my wallet trying to grab the cash I always keep on hand for dates. After awkwardly offering — and getting turned down — to pay, we went back to chatting.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said.

“What would you have done if I had said yes?” He asked me.

I looked at him, confused. Umm, I would have totally paid for my food. I thought. I don’t expect you to automatically take care of the check; I understand that it’s our first time meeting and am happy to split it. 

It wouldn’t have been a big deal at all!” I replied.

“No, but what would you have described me as in one word?” He pushed.

This is odd, I thought. Why couldn’t you have just let me pay for myself and skip over all this awkwardness? I wondered to myself, frustrated. I wish there was a way to skip this entire part and just enjoy meeting someone new. 

“Umm, I’m not sure.” I replied, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

“Come on,” he urged, failing to sense how awkward I was feeling.

“Uh, I guess I would say you were frugal maybe?” My mind was racing. Was that rude? I wouldn’t have thought he was frugal, I would’ve just figured he wasn’t into me or maybe wanted to be friends first. I certainly didn’t want him to think I was being unappreciative for the nice dinner!

He furrowed his brow, confused. “Huh? Frugal? You know what that means, right?”

OH NO, I suddenly realized. HE WASN’T TALKING ABOUT THE CHECK. I had completely forgotten about the conversation we had right before the waiter interrupted. Darn Kardashians. You embarrassed me yet again!

“Oh,” I laughed, “I don’t think frugal is the word I was looking for.” My face was flushed. I felt like such an idiot, as I definitely know the definition of “frugal.”

“Aren’t you getting your Masters in English?” he asked with a look of concern on his face.

Crap. How do I get out of this one? What kind of English student doesn’t know what “frugal” means? Scratch that. What kind of 25-year-old doesn’t know the definition of “frugal?” Ugh, this was another typical Krista move.

I laughed it off and changed the subject as quickly as I could, ditching the Kardashian conversation as quickly as possible.

Today’s lesson: Guys, please know that paying for a meal is super awkward on the girls’ end. Whether or not you let us pay for our share, we will feel uncomfortable. If you go out with me in particular, I cannot seem to hide my flusterdness very well, so forgive whatever dopey thing I say and move on with the conversation, please and thank you.

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Kohr’s Older Brother

As I mentioned in my last post, my friend and I were on Tinder looking for a double date while we were at the beach.

Luckily for us the Serial Killer that was supposed to meet up with us didn’t end up working out, so we moved on to the next one. We ended up chatting with someone in the police academy who was actually really polite and said he would be respectful of our wish to just meet up for ice cream. We sent him the same address we were going to meet the last guy at since both of us were dying for a Kohrs cone at that point. He said he could be there at 11:20, but once again his friend “canceled” at the last second. It’s cool, we thought, we just want to make one new friend by the end of the trip.

This guy seemed like he’d have some good stories for us, so we threw on our matching sweatshirts in true bestie style and headed to the boardwalk.

We waited a few extra minutes for the guy and began to get grumpy. He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago — maybe he was standing us up!

“I can’t wait any longer,” I promptly exclaimed. “I’m just going to get my ice cream now and we can just sit and visit with him while he eats his dessert when he gets here.”

Audrey agreed with me and we purchased our cones on our joint credit card. That was when hilarity ensued. There weren’t any seats at the Kohr’s, so we walked across the street to the benches by the Hilton hotel that was about 70 feet from the shop. We had a direct view of the cashier, so we could see when our date showed up.

We people-watched and chatted until Audrey suddenly exclaimed “IT’S HIM!!!”

I whipped my head back to look at the shop and saw a bald man with a scruffy brown beard charge angrily up to the cashier. Before I could even analyze the situation a bus stopped in my line of vision.

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That darn bus!

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I didn’t get a good look, but that guy looked like he was quite a bit older than us.”

“No, but I don’t have my glasses on,” she replied. “It looked a lot like our guy, though.”

We waited anxiously for the bus to get a move-on. By the time it pulled out of the stop the man had finished his purchase and was strutting out of the shop with his cup. He seemed to have a new spring in his step, and hurried happily across the street with his ice cream. He was coming for us.

We squealed nervously as he approached. There were a million thoughts running through my mind at this point.

How did he see us from all the way across the street? Why is a 50-something man on Tinder pretending to be 25? Why didn’t he wait for us? Why didn’t he message us that he was here?

He turned the corner into the pavilion area where we were hidden. Audrey and I froze.

I parted my lips to say hello, but he continued to walk toward the hotel doors. He did a double take on his way into the lobby, and to this day I am not sure whether it was because he was actually the man from Tinder or just thinking, “What the heck is wrong with this girl?” because of the startled look I had on my face.

Audrey looked over at me with her spoon in her mouth, floored. “Was that…?”

I shrugged, stunned. He was at least a vague shadow of the man in the pictures. What were the odds someone else who looked like that just happened to get a midnight snack at the same custard shop as us?

What do you think? Did we see the same guy we matched with on Tinder or was he just an older doppelganger? We sent our match a message and never heard back from him — I suppose he will always remain a mystery to us.

Two For Tinder

A trip to the beach wouldn’t be complete without some great date stories — especially since I am trying to keep up my writing for a dating blog!

My best friend has never used a dating app before, so we decided the beach would be a hilarious place for her to try it out to see what she thought… And who better to try it with than me? After all, she had the security of knowing someone far more embarrassing than anyone else around would be the second girl on her double date, so she could be certain that the boys would all flock to her after seeing my faux pas. Luckily she drove us to the beach, so there wasn’t a chance of me getting into a fender bender in front of my date this time.

On our way to the beach I created a Tinder account filled with pictures of the two of us explaining that we were just going to be at the beach for the weekend and were looking for a double date.

We weren’t extremely picky about our swipes; we sat in the hotel room and giggled as we speed swiped and waited for the swarm of messages to come in. After talking, we realized we didn’t have a lot of time for a date, so figured meeting up for dessert would be our best option. I always like to be incredibly honest in my intentions with everyone, so this is what we added to our profile:

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We got a lot of different messages and finally found someone who cut to the chase. He was down for meeting and giving us our precious Kohr Brothers and a good dating story!

Anyway, this particular gentleman will be referred to as “Serial Killer” from now on.

He looked pretty normal in his profile pictures — one was with a friend and the other was playing poker — and he could hold a decent conversation. He gave us his phone number, which we called to plan our meetup. He told us he was at a campground with his friends, but that he was just leaving and would love to meet up with us at the boardwalk for ice cream. After a few minutes of researching we determined that he seemed harmless, so gave him the address of the shop and prepared to go meet him.

Until we got the text.

He messaged us on Tinder saying that he was stuck in traffic (At 11:30 PM. Really?) and wanted us to go meet him there instead. We quickly declined, so he began to push the matter. He said his friend had canceled but that he still wanted to meet up*. We told Serial Killer that it was alright and to take care. He messaged us saying he was sorry and that he could tell we were mad at him (First, we clearly weren’t; we just were mildly creeped out. Second, how could we really be “mad” at someone we didn’t even know? Major red flag).

It didn’t stop there, though. He told us he was going to park his car on the side of the road, and that it would “only” take him about 20 minutes to run to the boardwalk from there. What the heck?! We didn’t even know what to think at this point. Why would a random guy we talked to for no more than 5 minutes want to come meet us for ice cream so badly? Something wasn’t right, so we confirmed with him that we wouldn’t be meeting up, and then blocked the profile.

This is one of many reasons I don’t ever meet up with people right after meeting them online. You never know who could be on the other end of a computer screen, so it’s best to find out someone is a bit creepy before giving them too much information on you… Better safe than sorry, right?

Our story doesn’t end here, though. We did find someone to meet up with us for a double date, but I’ll save that story for next time.


*In hindsight it was funny to see how many guys told us they would bring their friend to meet up with us for a double date, only to have the friend “cancel” at the last minute. Guys, was this planned from the get-go, or do you think the friend genuinely backed out? I can’t figure that one out.

CONFUSION.

This story is something I think is a hilarious typical millennial move.

As I was drinking my morning cup of tea I got a text from “Matt,” saying that we needed to catch up and that he’d love to take me out soon. I realized that we hadn’t seen each other in awhile and figured it would be fun to hear about his recent trip to Asia. We texted back and forth for a bit and finally agreed that we would go out after one of my classes in two weeks.

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That time went by quickly, as my schedule is always packed, and he texted me the day of to confirm the plan. Matt was going to pick me up after my class and take me to dinner near my University. Perfect!

Something dawned on me that day, though. Was I certain this was the Matt I was thinking of? I assumed since there was no last name that it must be the Matt I knew from my childhood, but since I got a new iPhone we didn’t have any chat history so I couldn’t look back on previous conversations to piece the puzzle together. It seemed too late to ask which Matt this was — after all, I had already agreed to go out with him — so I went on with my day without giving it another thought. I surely would have put “Matt OKC” or added a last name if it was someone I didn’t know very well.

He called me after class and we discussed where he would pick me up on campus. I was a little taken off guard as his “phone voice” was quite different than what he usually sounded like, which only furthered my suspicion that this was possibly a different Matt. I began to think it must be the one from my friend circle in undergrad. I didn’t know this Matt very well, but I felt comfortable going out with him still.

I met him by the Starbucks on campus and walked up to the silver Camero he had described… As I opened the door I realized that this was not Matt #1, OR Matt #2, but this was a third Matt! Matt #3 was someone I had actually met pretty recently in graduate school. I played it off like I was expecting to see him, but I was completely taken off guard — thank goodness he was driving so he didn’t notice the surprised look on my face.

We actually had a really nice time, and I ended up making plans to hang out with him and some of our friends again soon. I added his last name to my phone as soon as I got home that night.

Today’s lesson: Always put first and last names in your phone. Especially with common names like “Matt!”

 

Heartbeats

I am close to God when I feel my heart beat.

The constant rhythm keeps me awake at night, but it reminds me that I’m so lucky to be alive. Sometimes I rest my phone on my chest and watch it roll gently up and down. Even when I close my eyes again I can feel the beautiful tempo singing to me, strong and steady.

I am close to God when I see my heart beat.

I watch it work in all of its beautiful glory when I get my echocardiogram done for the fiftieth time. My heart is reliable despite all the wear and tear it has experienced. Even when nothing else in my body seems to be working properly, my heart is going overtime pumping blood — however little — to my brain and through my veins to keep me alive.

I am close to God when I rest my head on my puppy’s tummy.

I hear her tiny heart racing at a pace much faster than my own, and her itty-bitty tummy digesting kibble. She doesn’t do anything to keep herself alive and healthy; she just lives.

I think of how incredible it is that every living thing has so many intricate organs that each serve their own purpose. Even with a broken body I can recognize how absolutely incredible the human anatomy is. I am broken, but I’m still here. I still have a beautiful mind, I still have a chance to make a difference in the world, and I can still love. There is absolutely no way there isn’t a God. We are far too complicated for me to believe that.

My faith is a roller coaster ride, but I have it — When I feel my heart beat.

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My little baby was created with love and care, just for me.

GF’s Got Me Hangry

Salads are making me go crazy.

I recently started a gluten-free diet to try and reduce some inflammation for one of my chronic illnesses. A catch-22, though, is that I also recently found out I am allergic to tomatoes and potatoes — foods that seem to be staples in a gluten-free diet — along with a small array of other fruits and veggies.

I did this as I do many things and just went cold turkey. I didn’t try to ease into it, and frankly didn’t do any sort of research whatsoever before making this big change in my diet. I’m all about carbs, and actually need a lot of them to function with POTS.

Anyway since I’m so clueless, I’ve basically been eating a diet solely consisting of Greek yogurt, eggs, and salads. Throw in a lot of dark chocolate and that’s my day.

I’m beginning to get really frustrated, as I have lost some weight that I would have liked to keep, and feel tired and dizzy without my pretzels and crackers.

The other day I realized how grumpy going gluten-free has made me after I ordered a salad at the Nordstrom cafe and moved toward the checkout. My mom casually said, “Do you want dessert? Those cupcakes are beautiful!”

To which I replied with a loud and flustered, “Mom, I can’t eat that; it’s not gluten-free!”

I immediately realized how bratty I had been and felt my face turn red from embarrassment. I mumbled an apology to my mom as the pastry chef glared at me from behind the counter.

Now that I’ve gotten through a few weeks of this I am realizing I need help. What kind of GF items do you like? What websites might help me find new meals to cook? I cannot keep living off of salads!

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Sums up how I feel about my new diet.

New Music Monday

In my adventures with Audrey* yesterday she introduced me to a new song that she said seemed like perfect lyrics for me — and they sure were! I’ve looked at more of her music and am kind of obsessed with Alessia Cara now. This music video is kind of goofy, but just listen to the lyrics. So. Darn. Catchy!

This is what loving someone after your heart has been broken feels like.

*I have two best friends named Audrey! This time my post is all about my beautiful photographer/blogger/ex pageant queen, but current badass friend.