shame on you, velonews

dear friends at velonews,
for living in the training/riding/climbing/outdoor/high VO2/ backpacking/free tibet/trustafarian capital of the world, i am surprised by your laziness. it's awesome that danny summerhill and taylor phinney are on your january '08 cover. i agree 100% that they are indeed the future of american cycling. yet, how did you neglect to include junior national time trial AND road race champion ben king in the photograph?
as you may mention in the article, ben is an absolute phenom. (not to mention a well-mannered southern boy who knows how to conduct himself both on his new pro team and in the adult world) granted, no world championship medal, but the charlottesville native rode away from the entire tiaa-cref team in the national championship road race AND smoked the time trial...how could he not be pictured on your cover with his colleagues taylor and danny?

is it because he doesn't live in the people's republic of colorado? instead, he resides in blacksburg, va where he is a freshman at virginia tech. it's no c.u. or fort lewis, but give the kid a break. refrain from purchasing a few wheatgrass smoothies at ideal market, save your pennies, and buy the boy a plane ticket for your next cover shoot. i am appalled at the fact that you penalize mr. king with geography. if i'm wrong, please tell me; i'm happy to be so.

yours truly,

mandy

---

in other news, the ranch looked beautiful at christmas. thanks, mom, for the photos!

what do you get for the guy who has everything?

rumor has it jesus is hard to shop for.

due to this picture, i think that he wants an ipod monster from shanalogic. it goes nicely with his robes.

yup, it's cold

confirmed. minneapolis is cold in the winter.

but it's mega-rad, too. i will post an update when i catch up on sleep. hanging out with the darden young uns was tiring. they like to party!

in other news, mom and dad put up their christmas tree on the ranch.

awwwww....

What, oh what do I wear?

Now that finals are over, I can concentrate on the more important things in life: what do I wear to my interviews next week? Should I wear my dark blue velvet pants to my interview at the company with a hip image? I just can't figure it out. The position I'm applying for does necessitate some style and aesthetic know-how. Shall I demonstrate it in my attire? Hm...

My pants are quite lovely and could be mistaken for black in a dark room. However, since my interview won't be conducted in a disco, maybe I should stick with the black skirt and croc boots. Okay, okay. I talked some sense into myself.

But blue velvet pants are so cool!

Tomorrow I fly out to Minneapolis. Rumor has it it's cold. But at least I don't have to be outside, unlike these poor suckers!

PS: Finals were a dismal failure. However, that seems to be the Class of 2009 consensus (from my highly-scientific sampling of 5), so at least we're in it together.

PPS: Would you kick this guy in the shins? Didn't think so!!!!!! The other day he was at a coffee shop, minding his own business before a ride, and some little 6-year old brat came up to him and kicked him in the shins! His mother, instead of reprimanding the child and apologizing profusely, just said, passively "now honey..."

I will refrain from ranting here. Maybe someone will in a comment...But that is absolutely ridiculous!!!!!! Would any of us have entertained that notion as a child? Kicking a complete stranger in the shins for no reason? Jonny and the barrista had a laugh about it, and when they saw each other a few days later they were still amazed at the kid's brazen disrespect for strangers and his mother's inability to discipline the little jerk. What is the world coming to?

Mable knows pot roast. Not debits and credits

This morning I woke up, threw a chuck roast, carrots, new potatoes, onions, garlic, and various secret seasonings into a crock pot to make a pot roast. Sven had been sqwaking about how good pot roast is when made with Pepsi. Though I sent them a resume (along with many other companies), I am not a fan of consuming Pepsi per se. Since I had no Pepsi in the house (just Cheerwine), I found an 8.45 oz bottle of Chubby Cola. This looked interesting.
I put the crock pot on low and let the magic begin. About 6 hours later I decided to double check my completely-fabricated recipe against the maven of crockery cooking, Mable Hoffman. She authored my “Crockery Cookery” cookbook. As you can see from the photo below, not only is she the Countess of Crockery, she has fine taste in eyewear. And double-knit separates.
Mabel gave some sort of direction on pot roast, but it wasn’t exactly the way I did it. At any rate, the pot roast came out awesome 10 hours later, and it was much enjoyed. The cola gave it a nice flavor that counteracted the musky nastiness that usually comes with pot roast. Sven was pleased. As you can see while he poses with Chubby Cola.
My dominance over Mabel’s crockery cooking proven by a kickass pot roast, I felt better. Which made up for the fact that I demonstrated today, in fine fashion on my Accounting final, that I don’t know much more than how to fabricate pot roast recipes. Holy crap, it was painful.
...But, onward and upward.
Here’s something awesome. The best cyclocross podium shot ever (well, almost ever. They were missing the all-important brunette podium girls). Featuring many important people in my life. Namely (former) coach Charlie S., (former) mechanicmagician Charlie P., and the hubby of my BFF. But, best of all, notice Jonny Hamblen doing a nice rendition of “creepy guy” as Andy stifles a laugh.
Gosh, sometimes I miss racing cyclocross (and being thin).

Two possible outcomes

i either failed my economics final spectacularly, or i will be given a nobel prize. i was doing things to the islm curve that are illegal in 26 states. to say nothing of what i rendered aggregate supply...both the long and short run! blaow!
so aside from inventing new economic theories at will, i survived to live another day. i was so stoked to be done that i went on a two-hour ride with la gallette du sven (aka svennycakes). it was the first time i'd ridden a bike since mid-november. needless to say i was sucking it up good on hills. and charlottesville seems to have a lot of those. curses.
tomorrow: my accounting final. which compared to economics is more fun than that zipper ride at the state fair.

oh no! finals are here!

i'm trying to have a good attitude. so for giggles i look at a picture vika took a few weeks ago of me and patty cayo. notice my wig. mike murphy told me that i looked like his 1st grade teacher. which begged the question "...was she hot?"

if i survive the week, i'll write more. hopefully friday night will be full of bar golf. with all our brilliance we apply a surprising amount to the task of imbibing creatively.

i am the designated driver, so i'll be good. plus, i need to pack for minneapolis!

ciao!

mandy (hotter than mike's first grade teacher)

My first 5 proms weren't that great...

so i got to revisit it this past weekend at the c-ville doubletree. sven and i dressed up as only we can (i was definitely the only one in jeans, he the only one in pink tennies)...and we partied with 300 of our closest darden friends. everybody looked fabulous, but in typical mandy style i didn't get very many shots of the fabulousness. just me and sven. and vika. who is one of the hottest mbas to walk the planet. there was much discussion between us girls on how she got her chest to behave like that. she assured us that victoria's secret was her secret, as well as double-sided tape. see, we learn more at business school than finance spreadsheets and marketing calculations!

a bit of explanation about my outfit. to be tongue-in-cheek, i cut up a real-live prom dress (okay, bridesmaid's dress) and made it into a cool tunic. i wore it with hot new rock & republic jeans and my indisposable pliner pumps. some people got the irony, some did not. but i liked it. and i got another use out of my dress, which was nice.

Minneapolis is lovely in December, isn't it?

it's final: the first official darden school of business job trek to minneapolis is on. we're headed to the land of the zillion lakes right after finals. yours truly is organizing it. i am packing bikinis and sundresses.

since it's the world headquarters of target, i'm pretty sure i can buy a warm coat if need be.

in addition to visiting le domaine du bullseye, we are meeting some other awesome firms. did you know that the inventors of cheerios and post-its are in minneapolis? yup, we're headed there, too.

it's gonna rock.

we got a hotel right downtown so we can check the nightlife when not laying by the pool.

that's it for now. more when i take a deep breath after the crazy week of online operations/marketing simulations, cases; and trying to keep my facial skin from shriveling into parchment.

and this is how those who still ride (ie: not me), recover

On Myths...

My parents arrived yesterday. On their journey from Dulles to Charlottesville, they discovered Sheetz; arguably one of mankind’s greatest achievements.
Upon arrival, they gave my condo the once-over (as parents are wont to do), poised to criticize even the slightest bit of non-domesticity they spied. Fortunately, Sven had engineered a bike system in my bedroom to keep the two-wheeled monsters out from underfoot, so the condo actually looks like a home and less like a garage. I am down to 4 bikes now, so that helps with the clutter.
Following their 48-point military inspection of my domicile, Mom began “the shoulding”. All kids are familiar with this. These kids grow up to be adults and when they have kids of their own forget how awful “the shoulding” was. So they continue the tradition. It’s a vicious cycle that I will work to stop by 1. Not having kids and 2. Not saying that damn word; “should”.
But back to my Mother’s favorite pastime, shoulding. According to her flawed statistical reasoning, neither I nor my sister should have lived past our 18th birthdays, whereupon we left the house for college. To hear Mother tell it, Sarah and I are completely unable to function on our own without her frequently-offered advice. Our ability to get married, buy homes, hold down high-paying jobs, get Master’s degrees, and manage our finances is clearly a fluke. Beginner’s luck. Because we are certainly not able to survive without her words of wisdom. Hence the shoulding.
So when I’m not rolling my eyes or defending my reasoning for not alphabetizing my baking supplies (“I have 19 minutes of free time per day, which I refuse to spend tearing apart my pantry.”), I am keeping a tally of the MotherMyths she regularly spits out:
-you shouldn't eat cookie dough. you will die
-you don’t need to eat. Ever
-you should scrub your face vigorously to get rid of pimples. Yes, Mother, my 2 1/2 years in the beauty industry taught me NOTHING
-you should save Mason jars and twist ties (in my minuscule kitchen), because “you never know when you’ll need them”
-your oven isn’t level (no, my house isn’t level)
-how on earth can Mandy function with such a small kitchen? (Well, give me $20,000 and I’ll go buy a better one)
-Aaron should run to the gym.
“He does run, just not to the gym.”
“No, he should really run instead of going to the gym”
“He DOES run…but you can’t lift freeweights just anywhere! Why don’t you tell him?”
“I’ll tell him he should run”
“He DOES run!!!”
See, people, this is what I put up with…

And speaking of Aaron, myths, and the gym: today he saw Dwayne Johnson (AKA The Rock) working out. But Aaron remembered his manners and refrained from asking him about his upcoming movie (Southland Tales), during which he is, appropriately, shirtless. I love The Rock. He’s a guilty pleasure, kinda like LoLCats. Much to Sven’s chagrin.

Some DwayneCandy for your Wednesday

You know you're absorbed in school when...

-you nearly forget about your addiction to shopping at saks. i haven't bought myself anything new to wear in eons. if i had money i might be able to consider it, but if it's one thing mba programs are known for, it's high credit card balances. despite the fact that we are learning how to lead (and market and finance and consult) the free world, we shamelessly rack up debt.
-you want to die of boredom after staring at supply/demand curves. i sent this email to some girlfriends today: "I would rather poke myself in the eye with a fork than sit through another IS/LM Economics lecture. Prof Beckenstein is awesome. Darden is awesome. Economics is not. It's fucking boring. Sorry, people. It's proven fact. That's why it's called 'The Dismal Science'. My soul shriveled during the last 85 minutes."
-you don't remember (nor care) the last time you did anything more strenuous than hoisting your bookbag over your shoulder
-your blog posts are borin
-you hate the thought of pizza
-you think of sleep during 99% of your "free" time (which totals 24 minutes daily)
-your blog posts are really boring
-you whine about your 10 minute "commute" to school on your bike
-you find joy in silly websites
-the thought of thanksgiving break doesn't mean "turkey", it means "sleep!"
-your blog posts are hopelessly, mindlessly...boring

The beauty of having “no” goals

I spent this weekend in various states of happiness. Some hours were better than others. I will give you all the gory details below.
But let’s start with a celebration of how, for the first time in 4 years, I have no athletic “goals”. While some may be appalled by this, I am not. My career in cycling ran the gamut of being a joyful escape from my “real job” to a job in itself, fraught with the requirements and stresses brought on by making a living pushing my body to its limits. The last time I woke up on a Saturday morning without a pang of “I should be training” or “I should take today off” was about 4 years ago. I needed to get back to this, but only after spending those precious 4 years testing the parameters of my abilities.
So I woke up on Saturday morning with a raging hangover. And no desire or need to ride. I had spent a harrowing week locked inside Darden’s halls, under various pressures of StratSim (marketing simulation), cases, and planning for the Minneapolis Job Trek. I didn’t exercise once, and didn’t really care.
So Friday night came and I got together with the Indian Mafia for Jyotishko’s birthday. I had such a blast with 60 of my classmates, and realized that I’d been missing this component from my Autumn. I hadn’t given in to the Darden life completely. Some semblance of control was necessary, I guess. But I was in purgatory with racing, and I needed to wiggle my way out. Friday I forgot all of that and proceeded to let my dearest Patricia Cayo mix me innumerable potent drinks. I talked (semi-coherently) with different colleagues about my environmental passions, the difficulties of being in a relationship during graduate school, the downfall of nonprofits, and various other high-falutin things. Intersperse that with some downright silly behavior (you should see the wig I was wearing) and you have my night. I got home somehow, but not after yakking a few times (once in my hair) and feeling miserable all day Saturday. When I finally got out of bed at 4 p.m., I walked 4 miles to fetch my car. Yes, mom and dad, despite your best efforts to convince me that I make bad decisions, I have good enough judgment not to drive drunk.
Sounds like any other undergraduate weekend, I guess. But these have been few and far between for me and I sorely needed it. Not that I’m going to spend every weekend nudging my blood alcohol level above .1, but it was a good way to kick off my “I’m 100% committed to the Darden experience” pledge.
Training, schmaining. But I did go for an hour run last night after Learning Team, which cleared my head. In short, life is good! No controversy here. Wait until tomorrow ;-)
what i missed while the boys stayed with cara in n.c.
what i don't miss

I hate inside jokes on blogs

but this is one.

mandy's website of the week. hey, i can't take myself seriously all the damn time.

Meanwhile, back in Oregon...

I may not race anymore, but still get emails about this:

Yes, folks, America's future is in their hands...

How to lose 90% of your readership in 1 post

simple.

just say "no more bike racing"

sorry guys, but i just can't do it. some people would argue "just go out and have fun!"

but it's not fun for me anymore. to go out, having not touched a bike all week, and get dropped like a hot rock from races i used to contend.

i love the people in 'cross. i love the travel and seeing new places. i love the beauty of racing. i love my ahren's vanderkitten 'cross bike. i love my traveling companions.

but i don't love sucking. especially since i know that i'm on the "down" and not the "up" of my performance.

i have a degree in art. i have been an artist all of my life. so i think a lot about what i "show" to people, and try to make it beautiful. an artist doesn't fill a gallery with their mediocre work. they fill it with their best performances. with the things of which they are most proud. with the things that inspire and entertain their viewers the most.

like art, bike racing has become a mediocre (at best!) performance for me. i don't think i add much to anybody's life by doing it. so i'm hanging it up for now.

i thought i could kid myself and translate the joy i have from riding my vanderkitten bikes (mtb and 'cross) into racing "for fun". but i now see that these things are not necessarily related. i can ride my bike for free on a random tuesday. i am not going to drive 200 miles, then pay to ride terribly.

call me gloomy.

but i have to be honest. and to warn my readers who come to this blog only for current anecdotes of my racing: no more of that. sure, i may post about things that happened in the past with racing. like the time we ran out of gas in charlie storm's honda civic with a broken gas gauge. at 11 p.m. on a friday in west virginia on our way to a race. or the time that one of my teammates had to get an i.v. of saline after getting violently ill at a race in a 3rd-world country, and the terror in her eyes as she saw the saline bag hooked to a coat hanger jammed into the ceiling tiles.

views from picture-perfect training rides in unspeakably beautiful places

stuff like that.

i don't know what 2008 will hold. i'm still passionately involved in the growth of vanderkitten's brand. in spreading the gospel of how cycling can improve lives and inspire health and happiness. in helping the various teams with which i'm affiliated. i may even throw down more than you think next year.

so don't worry...this blog won't descend into melancholy or daily lectures on "why business school is the best use of anybody's time in the whole world end-of-story don't try to argue with me". i'll keep it fun and interesting and you can be sure that the mandy you know will come through loud and clear. but not so often will i be dressed in lycra.

so, to the few remaining readers i have upon finishing this post: thanks for listening.

love,

mandy

Betsy Shogren wins Singlespeed Cyclocross World Championship

As if I needed a reminder that I'm slow.

This weekend I got my ass kicked, but had fun doing it. This is progress. At last: a HEALTHY relationship with my bicycle!

Sven and I went to Leesburg for a MABRA race. Great course, awesome accouncing, fun people. A great time for all.

Betsy Shogren lost her crankarm during lap 1, and we thought she was gone. But she powered back and eventually passed me in the final lap to secure 3rd place. All on a single-speed pit bike! Unreal.

(I look fat in this picture. And I will accept no disagreements)

Regarding Darden:
Being in business school is absolutely demoralizing for someone with little FORMAL education in business. Everything I learned was on the job, and trying to transfer that knowledge into academics is a challenge. I spend most of my classes these days marveling at how my QuantSavant classmates seem to “get it” and how far behind I’m falling. I am amazed at how their brains can absorb and process this stuff and mine cannot get off the first page. Yet, conversely (hey, I have to make myself feel good sometimes), my ability to understand the “softer” and more intuitive side of things leaves some of those math-types far behind. Obviously, this is a true reflection of how companies are composed: many people with different backgrounds and skillsets. We must synergize and improve our performance to increase the bottom line. Recognize each other’s deficiencies and work to compensate with our own strengths; it contributes to the greater good. One thing we are being subtly taught (but don’t always do) is how to teach one another without sacrificing our own success. It’s a delicate dance. I think that sometimes I am better than Ginger Rogers, and other times I have two left feet. I find that those who are so competitive as to leave their classmates behind do themselves and the entire school a disservice. If you can’t instruct others in a way that enhances their performance, what have you done for the good of the whole? I would like to challenge my classmates to contemplate that when they spend a lot of time vying for their sole success. Or maybe I just spent too much time racing my bike as a domestique.
Okay, now I will show a picture of something easy to understand. Here’s something we can all agree on: flowers are pretty. Especially when they are photographed in my hometown.

Vanderkitten, baby!

They're having a sale. They rule.
Okay, now I'm off to the NAWMBA conference in Maryland. Svennycakes asked if it was the conference where we all paint our faces and run around topless, harkening back to Amazonian the days of old. I don't think I signed up for that one but I could be wrong.
Love!

mandy

Burt’s Bleach?

Today it was announced that Clorox will purchase Burt’s Bees for $925million. I have a huge emotional stake in that company, so I was profoundly troubled/sad/happy/confused.
I joined Burt’s in November 2003 when they had just been purchased for $185million by a private equity group. Roxanne Quimby (one of the two founders…Burt being the other) retained 20% of her stake in the company, and therefore some creative control. The changes that ensued were dramatic and amazing to be a part of.
When I left in 2006, we had increased our sales and distribution, and there were naturally rumors of us being purchased by L’Oreal or Revlon or some other cosmetic-focused company. The new CEO (John Replogle) came from Unilever, as did many high-ranking execs. Burt’s’ operations were trending toward Big Business, so I am not surprised that the Clorox sale happened.

Replogle is a really good guy. I trust him at the helm of “my” company. And all I have to say is: please, please, please John - take care of that precious place. Burt’s has revolutionized what we think about beauty products and the environment. Please take care of it. Please.

Thanks.

Here is my homeboy Ted (Director of Information Services at Burt's) and THE MAN himself.

Don’t you know who I am? Oh, right...nobody does.

I'm going to get a lot of shit for this. But at least I'm honest. Here goes-
--
Today I got a spoonful of "the world is very large and you don't matter much right now".
I did a little ‘cross race in Richmond because Sven and Nick wanted to throw down on a pleasant Sunday afternoon following Sven downing 14 Yuenglings while watching the BoSox win. I accompanied them and studied in the car.
I won my race by a few minutes, and remember hearing some guy yell “grab the top tube first!” once while I was dismounting for a barrier. I don’t pretend to have textbook dismount form, but it’s fast and it works and if you’ve ever seen the Belgians do it; anything goes. In the end, “fast” wins over “style” (and I'd like to think that I have both 90% of the time).
After the race I was riding laps for fun and stopped for a second at the car. This guy came up to me and, without even saying hello, spewed “you know you’re supposed to grab your top tube before you dismount, right?” Though I was caught off-guard, I said with an innocent smile “I’m aware of that” and didn’t say anything else. I just continued to smile at him, incredulous that he would be so rude as to assume that I needed advice and to not introduce himself or even ask me about my race.
I rode around a while and got really pissed. Doesn’t he know who I am? Does “alternate on the World Championship team” or “6th – ranked in the USA” or “top 50 in the world” mean anything to him? Hasn’t he read cyclingnews or velonews in the past few years? Has he heard of clothing for women who kick ass? I expounded on such thoughts to Sven, who told me to chill out.
And then I stopped and did just that. What the hell WAS I thinking? Why should I care? Is he required to know “who I am” to be a fan of cyclocross? No ("WHO am I anyway?"). Does he care that I used to have a high world ranking? That I am a pro? No and no. Do those rankings make me a better person? Absofuckingluutely not. Am I even that “famous” anyway? Not really. He probably had good intentions in talking to me, and simply forgot his manners by a. not introducing himself and b. offering unsolicited advice.
He even asked me later (again without pleasantries) if I was racing 'cross for the first time. Though Sven and Nick (um...pros) assured me that I looked just fine while winning.
Enter Darden:
I experienced what we call (in Leading Organizations class) an “identity abrasion”. I was letting myself feel attacked as a person and as a competent bike racer; as if my entire sense of self was under scrutiny. This was of course not the case, but nevertheless a prevalent mindset in person-to-person interactions. It’s a dangerous trap to fall into, because it leads to a destructive downward spiral of anger, barriers and defensiveness.
No thanks. Next time, I’ll find the “chill” button sooner. Humble pie is good for the soul.
But it did sting for a minute...

Just when I think I’m going to drown

I remember why I’m at Darden. After two days of demoralizing Economics and Finance classes (which make Accounting seem easy), I was about ready to cry. I hadn’t utilized any sort of talent that I possessed. I was floundering and feeling completely incompetent. I am so dumb. Why did they let me in? When will they kick me out for having zero clue? It sucked.
But then I went to the Alternative Energy Forum. And got reinvigorated. After a conversation with the President of CommonWealth Biofuels, I had a fantastic discussion with a classmate on Cradle to Cradle, whose author lives in Charlottesville. There is such an amazing pool of talent out there “doing well while doing good”. I am here because I want to change the world. And a lot of other people at Darden do, too. And we will. I have no doubt. Call me overly-optimistic, call me naïve, say whatever you’d like. We are building the skills and network to GET SHIT DONE and make a huge difference. I’m sure of it.
Okay, that’s the end of my Rah Rah Darden speech for the day.
In other news, I won another bike race. That was fun. And I got to see my NC buddies (all the while rockin my sweet Ahrens ‘cross bike)!

Product Development 101: Logitech laptop stand with keyboard

i am giving this an "f". at this point, why don't you just get a monitor and call it a "desktop"? all that's missing is the wireless mouse.

if this type of innovation is all it takes to work in marketing at logitech, then i think i could have secured a job as director when i was in 9th grade.

come on, people. you make a mockery of my mba ;-)

Class is in session

Listen up, kids. Here is how to build the ultimate 1980s party outfit. Before I proceed, however, I must state that, for the record, I did not like the 80s all that much. Granted, I grew up in that era, but have no fondness (nostalgic or otherwise) for the fashion, music, politics, etc of that time. I have a soft spot in my heart for New Kids on The Block, but that’s about it.
The 100 Case Party at Darden is quite the event. People get to revisit their love of legwarmers and polyester. Girls perhaps use it as a reason to put a 2007 slant on some 80s fashions. I, however, used it to resurrect a look that was actually present in suburban America during the 1980s and not some glossy flashback of bad style. While a lot of my classmates cast a modern light on that godawful decade, I decided to go all-in and apply subtle nuances to my ensemble to give it authenticity second-to-none. The only other one who came close was Joey, with her awful upholstery-fabric evening dress that doubtlessly showed up at every holiday party from 1983-1991. The longevity of such a hanus style speaks volumes of the affection women had for high waistbands, pleats, puffy sleeves, and fabric that mimicked the African jungle. My outfit was some of the same, but it also chronicled a particularly painful episode in the lengthy saga of “America loves Denim”.
Yes folks, “acid-washed” is the horror of which I blog. Let’s break it down:
This dress, though $7 at Goodwill, is a priceless time capsule of the Reagan era. I couldn’t have done a better job with a Bedazzler and some puff-paint.
The ill-matching belt doesn’t synch perfectly with the darker color of the denim, which was a common pitfall of the 1980s fashionable Jersey Girl. She just threw some stuff into her ensemble and hoped some would stick. Flattering cuts were unheard of, and everyone looked pear-shaped…
Shoulder pads. Developed by Liz Claiborne in the 80s when women started joining the workforce in droves. I guess it gave them a more manly, assertive appearance. Whatever. Women's Lib and all, it's hideous.
The ugly white Naturalizer flats are formless and unflattering. Every 50-year old admin has a pair of these, much to my chagrin
And the crowning glory of the outfit: the mom purse. Genuine Top-Grain leather(?). You know that your mom still uses hers. I had no fewer than 40 people exclaim “oh my god my mom still has that fucking thing!” And guys said it, too, which speaks to the high level of authenticity it lent to my outfit. One gentleman even went so far as to describe the twist-clasp mechanism, all the while gripping his face in his hands in disbelief that this hideous relic of childhood still haunted thrift stores.
I would go into detail about my spot-on 1980s makeup (teal eyeliner and purple eyeshadow paired nicely with pink frosted lipstick), and teased hair (frizz included…the 1980s had yet to see anti-frizz serum) but I believe my work here is done.
Thank god that decade is over.

This past weekend...

I did a little of this, a little of that, loaned my shades to a kid, and uncovered evidence of child absuse in the form of making a defenseless child wear crocs.

of note: my awesome hair on the start line and how serious mr. ayers is when i'm trying to take a self-portrait.

4 midterms done, 1 to go

my intelligence has deteriorated so spectacularly that i now find humor on the innerwebz. in the form of silly cats.

what has become of me!!!!!????

i promise my next post will be more about this:and less about this:

what can i say? i like kitties.

Another day at the office

my, how times have changed

back in the day:

now:

winning just doesn't look the same

phat!

i want this (to match my new vanderkitten 'cross bike perfectly)

but only have the budget for this.

waaaaaah. where is santa when i need him?

Aaaa! What do I do with this?

the golden shinguards of power didn't prepare me for what to do when a soccer ball actually comes into my general vicinity.

here i am, freaking out because

1. my shinguards are so stylish and i don't want to scratch them!

2. my yellow pennything doesn't fit and is decidedly unflattering!

3. this is bad for my tanlines!

4. there is far too much lateral movement in soccer for my uni-dimensional legmuscles!

5. my classmate on the far left (mike feller) is a former professional soccer player and will cease talking to me now that he's seen my dismal display of skills!

i survived the game. my ego did not.

i am so good at soccer

that i wear the armbands of power.

seriously, though. yesterday was my first time ever playing soccer (played when i was 6 for about 2 minutes but i mainly stood in a field and picked dandelions). i practiced with my section and they said supportive things like "mandy, maybe you should run around a lot and tire people out".

awesome.

so we played today as a part of the darden cup. i did a lot of girly shrieking. when a ball is zinging toward your head, you'd freak out too.

i totally rocked the solid gold shinguards.

As my fan-base dwindles

to two giunea pigs and and four cats...i study my little heart out at darden.
i am so buried in the books that it takes my marketing professor and the aforementioned rodents to tell me that i've been featured in the november issue of bicycling magazine.

gotta love k-man!

Damn them Vanderkittens is HAWT!

here we are in vegas. improving the scenery. and why do leigh and i have such prominent chins in this pic? no idea...

and my pit krew. awesome!

Congratulations to Daniele and Phil!!!!!!!!!

nice rock!

I'm in LOVE!

with my new bike.
see?
and, i love my:
classmates
learning team
mba program
professors
condo
friends
running
cooking
sleeping
riding
basketball
roommate
new hometown, charlottesville!
etc.


though i feel stupid 99% of the time, i still love it.

don't hate me 'cause my bike's beautiful

ta dow