Next up: Valentine's Day

I am over joyed for Valentine's Day this year.

If you haven't noticed, I completely feed in to commercialized holidays. I like the idea, and them forcing you to spend time with your loved ones/friends to celebrate unnecessary spending. To me, it's only for a couple of days out of the year when (almost) everyone's mood is elevated because of all the love in the air.

Cheesey, fine. I can admit to that, but why not celebrate it? It shouldn't be once a year - it should be every day - but because this ONE day was singled out and you get to be surrounded around other sweethearts, just enjoy it. Even if you're single, I'm sure there are people around you who you love. Enjoy that. And if there's no one around you who you love, love yourself especially hard for the day.

Another reason I'm excited for Valentine's Day is because I can't wait to ball my eyes out for The Vow. I purposely try to provoke emotions out of myself so I'll go pay to see movies I know I'll be too scared to watch through open eyes and that are guaranteed to make me cry.  I have convinced J to take me to see this even though he's a regular guy who hates romance movies and this movie is like about 3 other Rachel McAdams movies I've seen before. 

Be honest, doesn't an itty bitty teeny tiny part of you kind of want to see this movie? 

Vlog: Dancing my boyfriend wouldn't approve of

Sometimes you've just got to cut loose.

T!G!I!F!

Mr. Carrymel turns 24!

The next biggest thing to happen to the world since July 27th is today. October 4th. 

Otherwise known as J's birthday!!!

I'm gunna be cheesy, romantic and predictable and write him an open letter and you're gunna like it. So here goes.

*Ahem*

Dear J,


I'll start off by saying happy, happy, happyyyyyyyy birthday because it only seems right. I know that today is a big day for you since it was the day you were born, but I celebrate you everyday, just like I celebrate us everyday (not just on an anniversary). Your special day means a lot to me, and I want you to know that you have made every single birthday I've had with you phenomenal, and I will strive to give you nothing less. Someone as unique and good-hearted as you deserves the world, and while a lot of people have been privileged enough to have you in their life, I am the only one who you've let into your heart like this and I am honored. I want this day to be fantastic, magnificent, and a COLOSSAL great time for you because as hard as you work everyday, you deserve to feel all of those positive vibes you give out to everyone ten times as much on your day.

You are my very best friend, bullfrog, and yes, I'm tearing up typing this (you know how I do).

Happy Birthday Babe!

(See how I did that in your favorite colors? Haha. I'd totally marry me. . .but again, this isn't about me. This is about you :P)

Loving you the most,

Nhya aka 

Things I hate to love about J

As promised, here's a post about the mystery man to most of you (unless you know me in real life. Then you hear about him 24/7).

What better way to get to know him than to get to know him like I know him? :]

Things I hate to love about J

 This picture of him makes me laugh every time I see it. And if he doesn't like it, he shouldn't have it on Facebook. I'm just sayin'.

How he feels compelled to shower every morning, even if he showered the night before and did nothing but sleep and wake up. Somehow showering energizes him. I couldn’t fathom this until one day I told him not to shower because we were in a rush. I watched as in a mere 20 minutes his body literally shut down and wasn’t revived until water touched his skin. It was remarkable.

His refusal to eat collard greens even though he knows damn well that I caught him eating them at a restaurant. Apparently what he meant to say is he didn’t eat my family’s collard greens. Oh, okay.

How eerily similar our grandmothers are. They look nothing alike but my grandmother is the Jamaican-Methodist-shopaholic equivalent to his cute, Jewish, always-wearing-pink grandmother. It’s very interesting to see how two women who have never met can have such a similar impact on their first grandchildren’s lives. There are times when his grandmother talks and I swear it’s like my grandmother possessed her body. Grandma, is that you?

How he loves me in sweatpants, hair tied, chillin’ with no make-up on. Or in my case - pink super woman pajamas, glasses, and a headscarf. I hate when he invites people in with me looking like I just woke up, but he doesn’t think it’s a big deal because "I’m beautiful no matter what" – yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m no stranger to Vicki’s Secret when I need to be but he has seen me looking craaaaazy and I’ll admit to that. My whole thing is – as long as it’s not a habit, let me live. Thank you. And he does.

Him taking up SO MUCH space in bed. This isn’t the biggest deal because I like that he’s 6’3, but there are times when I forget that he’s a person with feelings and I want to fight him and throw him overboard. Somebody’s gotta go. . .

His Football Sundays. HUSH! I want no backlash for this. Everyone knows that Sundays are reserved for WE Weddings, The Kardashians and True Blood! But even though I’ve always been one of those girls who likes the team whose uniforms are the prettiest (as in, with the least color clashing), I appreciate him for being so determined to keep this tradition alive with his friends and brothers. I even learned a thing or two about how great of a game football is, and he trained me to recite Mark Sanchez as my favorite player on the Jets – but I will always be a Giants girl thanks to my dad.

"The Saddest Thing In Life Is Wasted Talent"

What a melancholy title, huh? Lol. Don't worry, I come with great-ish news.

I'm going to start off by saying I HAVE FINALLY MOVED. Everything is set up. I can actually sleep in the apartment without a nightlight on (that means I'm comfortable, folks). So that is what I have been spending all of these days doing through a power outage, various days of applying to jobs and a couple of family outings.

I see that big things have happened - like blogger finally getting it's life in order and giving itself a makeover. I still don't really have any idea how to find your sites through this new navigation but I'm sure it'll happen sooner or later.

I've been spending my days cleaning and cooking, so yes, I'm getting the wifey points up. I even entertained this past weekend! I started fantasizing about possibly being a housewife and leaving the money making to my man since I'm getting so good at these domestic duties, but then I remembered that I need to have the money to buy my own shoes and Sims games.

Fun fact - My first "real" job at 16 was at Walgreens where, I promise you, I got it so I could save up for all of the Sims 2 expansion packs. I got all of them and almost quit after I made enough money. Are you judging?

True Blood is an episode away from going away for a whole year and it. is. killing. me.

Special shout out to all of you who tweeted, messaged, email'd  me, sent smoke signals, etc., trying to see if I survived the hurricane and was ever going to blog again. So, um,  I did. Yay! More consistent posts to come!

What the earthquake taught me

(If you recognize this picture, I love you because you've watched Charmed)

It's very rare (though not impossible) for New Yorkers to experience an earthquake, or even an aftershock from an earthquake. It is, however, not unlike us to make the biggest deal out of any unusual situation that we might face. Dramatic and New York kind of go hand in hand like Idaho and potatoes (ever met someone from Idaho? They hate when you say that) and Florida and really, really old people retiring there and slowing up traffic.

But I'll digress.

When the earthquake earth hiccup occurred I was sitting on my boyfriend's futon and thought that someone was doing construction nearby until I looked over and saw the bed and everything on it was shaking too.

My first thought was that I was overreacting until it continued for another minute or two, and then I needed to consult a trusted source about what was happening: Twitter.

Lo and behold, after a little lagging and Twitter being "over capacity", the New Yorkers on my timeline were in a frenzy, tweeting pictures of how their picture frames had tilted an inch off the wall. And I thought I was dramatic.

Here are some things the weak aftershock that us New Yorkers are calling an earthquake taught me:

1.) In this world there does exist someone more dramatic than I am and her name is La Madre, who felt it was crucial to call me repeatedly until I answered after the "quake". Her floor apparently rocked more because she's so high up and she thought they might be having some sort of pre-September 11th thing going on. Why someone would target a small opthalmology company in Long Island is beyond me.

2.) I may need some new friends. I sent a text to one asking if we just had an earthquake and he told me that it was probably just alcohol withdrawal. Is it wrong that for a second, I thought he made a valid assumption?

3.) That maternal instinctive survival gene I thought I was missing is actually there. I called J at work (First person! Yay for being a good gf!). Not sure that I would have been able to do anything over the phone to help him, but it's the thought that counts.

4.) I am SO GLAD I was not on a Subway. I don't think there was any record of problems on NYC subs but I. Don't. Care. That is the last place I want to be when there's any kind of earth movement. This isn't a lesson, more of a me-just-being-happy thing.

Sidenote, and totally off-topic: I need your honest opinion on if I'm too old to purchase this microwave from Target. . .

I love it though.