Nobody Hacks MY Dad

My dad's Yahoo email account got hacked. I know this, because he sent me a link about a Canadian drugstore. I happen to know his password. Knowing that it could take him five hours to figure out how to change it, I went ahead and fixed it. Then I immediately called him.

Me: Dad. Your email account got hacked.
Dad: What?! How do you know?
Me: Because you sent me a link to a Canadian drugstore.
Dad: What?! This is terrible!!! This happened before, I think. That... mailer...
Me: Yes, MAILER-DAEMON. You didn't change your password?
Dad: Yes! Mailer demon! I didn't know what happened. I feel so bad.
Me: It's OK. Don't worry, it happens to lots of people.
Dad: Even you?
Me: Well... no. I have Gmail. But I changed your password. It's X.
Dad: So I need this password to get on the Internet? What about my Favorites? Where I pay my bills?
Me: Dad, this is just for your Yahoo email address. Everything else is the same.
Dad: Even my Favorites?!
Me: Yes, even your Favorites. But your inbox is filled with spam. You should really get a new email address.
Dad: How do I do that?!
Me: I'll set you up with a Gmail account. It's better. More secure.
Dad: Well, I want to come up with the name.
Me: You don't want to just use your regular name?
Dad: Like... mike@gmail.com?
Me: Um, no. Like your full name.
Dad: Isn't that bad?! I don't want my name out there!!
Me: It's OK. It'll be OK. I can switch over your contacts, too.
Dad: Like, my address book? Will you give them my new email address??
Me: Yea, sure.
Dad: But what about the hacker's? I don't want him to have my new email!!!
Me: It's OK, dad. He won't. But um, you should really take a basic computer class.
Dad: Like, on the Internet? Or where I get in my truck and drive?
Me: Um...
Dad: This is the start of you wiping my ass, isn't it?

If You Only Visit One Store In New York...

As written for fashion blog iheartheels.com
It was March of 2002. I was living on a college girl's budget and had come to New York for the first time ever. My much more fashion-savvy friends immediately started raving about this elusive H&M and demanded to go. I didn't understand. Until I saw for myself. I was smitten. Fabulous clothes! Shoes! Accessories! More clothes! I could spend $100 and walk out with five outfits. To this day, I don't know what it stands for (Hugs&Mustaches? Hearts&Milkshakes?), but I remain ever loyal. So of course when my friend Julie at iheartheels.com asked me to cover H&M's Fashion Against Aids event last month, I jumped at the chance. Side note: I interviewed at Seventeen during that first H&M-filled visit to New York. The following summer, Julie and I ended up interning together at the iconic teen magazine. We discovered we were sorority sisters *cue secret handshake*, and a friendship was instantly born. Moving on...

New York's Fifth Avenue H&M store was packed to the gills with fashion lovers and shoppers at the May 19 event, which boasted a 20% discount on everything (squeal!), appetizers, drinks, live music, you name it. Basically, I shopped. A lot. And I also admired their new Fashion Against Aids collection — 25% of every single sale made from this collection will be donated to various HIV/AIDS prevention projects. That's a hell of a lot of money... especially seeing as the collection is gorgeous and is bound to sell out. Some of my favorite pieces from the FAA collection:

I fell head-over-heels in love with that angelic white ruffled maxi dress after seeing it on one of the models. When I tried it on, it didn't look quite right on me, and I almost cried. (Sadly when I left Kansas for NYC over six years ago, my hips came along for the ride.) Luckily, I was able to find a few pieces worthy of my Beyoncé-sized booty. $200 worth to be exact. Sigh. It's not really spending frivolously when it goes to a good cause, right? xx

That Girl (You Know The One)

So my coworker/friend Nicole is, for me, That Girl. You know the one — she's charismatic and always looks immaculate, even while pregnant and wearing 4-inch heels. When getting dressed in the morning, sometimes I think to myself, what would Nicole pair with this? Would she opt for the beaded necklace? Would she belt this cardigan? This is usually followed by me saying fuckit, picking up the same Get Up Kids hoodie off the floor and bouncing off to work in my Converse. Said Nicole has also bled into my eating habits. Afterall, it was her who first told me about that damn Blueprint Cleanse. She is the one who said that berries are better for you than bananas, thus forcing me to buy a bag of frozen berries that I inevitably threw out because they tasted like tart, tangy mush.

For fear of sounding creepy, let the record state that I am easily influenced in general, doesn't matter who you are. Whether I'm taking business advice from Jami, boy advice from Jessi, permission to eat croutons for dinner from Meagan or love-handle reassurance from Crista. While the aforementioned ladies make up some of my best friends, Nicole will forever be That Girl for me. The one who makes wearing heels look effortless, who has the willpower to only eat half an office brownie (not five), who at first glance appears to be the epitome of one of those all-together New York "fashionistas" — the intimidating kind — that I used to see in magazines and on TV while growing up in Kansas City. Yet one might be surprised to find that her humor (she was the one who loudly pointed out the peculiar-shaped sweet potato in the office minifridge) and inner beauty very much outshine her chunky cuff bracelets that I covet on a daily basis.

For instance, her 365 Heartbeats Project has me looking at life just a little bit differently. She spent the better part of an evening photographing me in the rain on a deserted New York street (see above) for this project. As awkward as this was for me... with N's help, I was able to laugh at myself. And ironically, it was a quick shot taken the next morning (at left) that she ended up posting — I like to think that it captures a part of my soul that is very genuine. That je-ne-sais-quoi that is inside of me and what my dad refers to when he tells me to "stay golden."

My point is this: Oh. I don't really have one. I told her that I would post about her cute new weekly fashion blog on AOL's Lemondrop.com (read it — so you, too, can be That Girl... or at least look like one) which got me to thinking, Is there anything that this chick can't do? ♥

Giveaway: Sex, City & Ruby Slippers

Woo hoo! I've been given a pair of Sex and the City Hotspots Tour tickets (an $84 value) for a giveaway on this here blog. Perhaps it's because of all the yapping I do about SATC. But before I tell you how to win 'em, I'd like to make you NYCers aware of this little ditty:

*start PR pitch*

Sex and the City Midnight Madness Package
Take the day off work, fork over $179 and enjoy all things SATC on Wednesday, May 26, 2010. This amazing package is well worth the ticket price and includes:

• The Sex and the City Hotspots Bus Tour
• An Italian buffet dinner at NYC's Fresco by Scotto
• A ticket to a midnight screening of Sex and the City 2
• VIP admission to Marquee nightclub after the film (which, coincidentally, is where I stumbled upon Beyoncé and Jay-Z back in 2004)
• Special appearance by Willie Garson (aka Stanford Blatch!)

Click here for more info and to purchase tickets.

*end PR pitch*

Alright, as I was saying, I have a pair of tickets to give away for the Sex and the City Hotspots Bus Tour, which features over 40 real-life locations used in the show. Now I could attempt to give you a SATC tour myself, but I can barely pronounce Manolo Blahnik. So let's do this, shall we?

Contest Rules: This contest is open to EVERYONE. The tour tickets never expire, so if you don't live in NYC, you can simply use them during your next trip to visit me. OK, ready? To enter to win, you must be officially following my blog (you can follow using your Google, Twitter, Yahoo or AIM account). You won't get spammed, and you won't even get an alert when I post a new blog. It is there solely to make me feel like the popular girl in English class. The winner will be selected at random (by closing my eyes and pointing at the computer screen) from my list of loyal followers on Thursday, May 28.

Because I'm nosy, what would YOU like to see happen in Sex and the City 2? Want to see Steve grow a pair and put Miranda in her place? Sigh. Me, too.

UPDATE: Congrats to Sharon, who won the SATC Hotspots Bus Tour tickets! Sharon, please email me your mailing address. Thanks to all of you for following my blog!

The Trials of Living 2,000 Miles Away From Home

If you know me at all, you'll know that not only do my dad and I have an interestingly tumultuous relationship, but he is also the love of my life (in a non-creepy way). The minute my mom passed away back in 1998, I immediately jumped into "parent mode" and have spent every waking moment since putting my pop in his place, lovingly bossing him around. I don't know why I do this. I often wish that I didn't, as it would save us a lot of bickering. But truth be told... deep down, I don't think he'd have it any other way. After all, if I don't take care of his goofy ass, who will?

Me (calling dad): Hi, I tried calling you yesterday.
Dad: Oh, I was at the hospital.
Me: Why?!
Dad: I just fell in the basement and broke my foot... but I'm OK!
Me: What?? When did this happen?!
Dad: Day before yesterday. But I thought it was fine until I took a shower yesterday and saw that my toes were going in two different directions.
Me: Oh, dad... you're an older person, you need to get these things checked out right away. Are you OK? Do you have crutches?
Dad: I'm OK, I just have a big giant shoe I have to wear.
Me: Well... why didn't you tell me right away??
Dad: Because I knew you would get upset and worry!
Me: This is why I worry. Because you don't tell me things. I would've told you right away!
Dad: You're right, and I would want you to. I'm sorry. But hey, I never lie to you!
Me: So, what, am I supposed to know which questions to ask you every day — "How's your foot? How's your wrist? How's your head? Do you have cancer?"
Dad: Is this going on Facebook?
Me: Yes.

My dad then proceeds to spend the next five minutes urging me to say a swear word. "C'mon, Tina, just say 'fuck.'" No, Dad. I'm at work. "C'mon... you're so cute when you cuss." Goodbye, Dad. ♥

Photo of Dad and I, circa 1981.