Nashville

"Would you like an adventure now, or shall we have our tea first?" - Peter Pan

As of a few months ago, it was clear something in my life wasn't quite working. While I have an amazing job, co-workers, friends, a great apartment (mice problem aside)...

 I knew in my heart, I wasn't where I was supposed to be. Being in Uganda truly shook up everything I thought I knew about myself. The things I found important don't seem to matter anymore and over those two short weeks I realized I need to make a change.

After a lot of prayer,

I'm moving to Nashville! 

Nashville allows me to still do what I love and work in entertainment but puts me closer to my family and friends.

I'm excited for this next chapter. I know it's going to be full of obstacles, 

but I'm ready and excited for this new adventure. 

To all my amazing L.A. friends- 

I'd love to spend time with you before I leave.

Invite below:

And to all my Nashville friends,

I'm comin for ya.

***As for work***
ANY entertainment connections

ANYONE has

 I would love and greatly appreciate.

(give me a week, and I'll have a work website up)

Love you all,

Courtney Clydesdale

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Oh-Hell-No

Lesson #8: "A woman is like a tea bag: you cannot tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water." -Nancy Reagan

I've always considered myself to be a fairly level-headed girl and for the most part I actually enjoy high-pressure situations. 

For example last month after being told my raft was the closest my instructor had ever had to everyone dying on the Nile River, I volunteered to go again.

Here's another example, 

I not only agreed to go on a blind date but to attempt high wire trapeze lessons on that very date. I'm still single.

Recently, 

it was brought to my attention that I am deathly afraid of something,

and lucky for me that something decided to move it's entire family into my1 bedroom apartment.

After making myself dinner,

 which consisted of popcorn and Charles Shaw,

I sat down at my dining room table like any other respectable human being and within moments

my new roommate, wide eyed and not-so-bushy tailed scurried up to me.

Naturally, 

I grabbed for my Ikea trashcan lid and Swiffer and jumped on my dining room table- I grabbed my phone and called the manliest friend I had. Like any true friend he rushed over with traps. 

While I sat on my table and waited for my friend, I tried to think of everything my mother had ever taught me. 

All I could think of is don't give him a cookie unless you have a glass of milk, which I  don't. All I have coconut water and even I can barely tolerate that crap.

After my friend got upset with me for eating all the bait, he left and I locked myself in my room trying to cover my ears with pillows to avoid hearing potential snapping. 

After mustering up the courage to venture into my kitchen,I quickly learned, 

mice love M&Ms just as much as I do.

I called my friend hysterically crying and she firmly instructed me to go find a man... 

any man

 to come get them.

Logically, 

my 21 year old neighbor's solution 

was put them in my new stackable Tupperware. 

Not exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take it.

Anywho,
from what I can tell; Gus Gus, Fievel & all the Rescuers Down Under are gone now...
and I'm once again free to be the princess I truly am. 

Only this time I'm a princess that wears shoes in her kitchen at all times.

Piece of Tuna?

LESSON #7: "You're in pretty good shape for the shape you are in."

-Dr. Seuss

One of the perks of working a not-so-normal job is that I get these little things called Hiatus. Basically, I get 2 weeks off every couple months.

Over the years, my friends have come to dread this time because, as it turns out, I don't do so well with occupying myself during free time. Lucky for them, my little sister Jacqueline decided to take one for the team and fly out to babysit me the first week. Which included but not limited to: taking me to Disneyland, Hiking and even volunteered to see The Hunger Games on multiple occasions.

Week 2. Jacque goes home and I am left to my own devices.

Which leaves with one option.

"Operation Fix Courtney".

Tuesday night I decided to sign up for a 3 day juice cleanse. At the time, I thought I would appreciate that they deliver the juices everyday to your doorstep before 7 am but quickly learned after being derived from solid food, ANYTHING can make me angry. Needless to say. If I never see another juice in my lifetime, it will be too soon.

I figured, I'd get out some of my anger by attending my new boot camp.

Yet another attempt to "Fix Courtney".

As most of my girlfriends and mother know, the only real reason I keep attending this torture is because of my beautiful Brazilian Boot camp instructor.

(actual photo)

Now, normally. I find his attempts to use English cliches cute, even adorable. Every day, I somehow find the strength to giggle like a school girl as I struggle with everything in me just to get out of his line of sight during our morning runs when he asks me "Piece of Tuna?"...

(What? I'll explain)

What my friend here is trying to ask is "Piece of Cake?"

Well.

Not today.

Suddenly, I found his accent annoying. How did he get his citizenship anyway if he can't even speak proper English? And who wants a butt that in shape? He must be a gym rat and probably the type of guy that orders a vodka soda and salad on a first date. No thanks.

As I left class fuming, I realized I had a voicemail from my doctor asking me to come in for my vaccinations for upcoming trip to Uganda. If there is one thing, I despise. It's shots.

After being bribed by my doctor and a nurse to sit still with a sugar free lollipop and Elmo band aids (And yes, I ate the lollipop. on my cleanse. deal with it.)

I heard the nurse and doctor laughing outside my room. Personally, I think I took the shots and blood work like a lady.

Now that my Juice cleanse is over and I had pizza for breakfast, I am back to adoring my beautiful Brazilian Boot camp instructor. It's amazing what the human body will do for love. I think it's safe to say we're getting married.

Love Always,

Mr. and Mrs. Brazil

Thanks but No Thanks

LESSON # 6: “Nothing is too much trouble if it turns out the way it should.”

- Julia Child

Leading up to Thanksgiving I made the mistake of dating a guy in my close circle of friends. In other words, my friends are married to his friends. In my mind, this could have gone 2 ways; either I would have ended up with someone my friends were forced to like and accept or I was signing up for countless awkward encounters for myself and my friends… and their husbands.

On the upside, I was right.

I’ve never fancied myself to be a chef, a great cook or even a halfway decent one. Over the years, I have built-in the understanding that I am fantastic at frozen food dinners. Come over anytime, and I’ll make you a pizza. Or order you one. I have every type of take out on speed dial readily available. I think I’m a great host, just not a great cook.

For some reason, every time I date someone I feel the need to up the ante with my frozen foods. In this case, Trader Joes pre-made pizzas were no longer good enough. So I decided to knock the socks of the guy I was dating and make a pizza from scratch, on a pizza stone I picked up at Bed Bath & Beyond on the way home from work with my 20% off coupon I had been saving.

Little did I know, you have to pre-bake the stone, and can’t wash it with soap or anything you cook on it takes on the soapy flavor.

Thanksgiving was around the corner and somehow, my guy had decided to invite 17 people over to share in the festivities. His roommate suggested I make the turkey and before I could map quest the closest honey baked ham, my guy had reassigned me to paper goods. Fine.

I spent 2 days, roaming the aisles of Party City and bought the fanciest plastic wine goblets money could buy.

The night before, the couple making mashed potatoes backed out. This was my chance to shine. This wasn’t the time for Hungry Jack, I woke up at the crack of dawn and peeled potatoes as if I was opening a sweatshop in Idaho. I was thrilled with myself.

Needless to say, I was dumped November 25^th (the day after Thanksgiving). I blame it on the lack of oven space that caused my potatoes to go cold... that or he was watching his carb intake... which I can respect.

I Prefer 'Patiently Impulsive'

Lesson 5: “I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much”

-Mother Theresa

It's expected that everyone has momentary lapses of judgment. As children we learn the invaluable lesson that our rash decisions are often times closely followed by unwanted consequences. Growing up my mom raised me with the belief that life is full of lessons and while I'm only 26, I feel I've learned more than my fair share...

#1: Stick to the Slutty Costumes

It's true everyone appreciates a team player, it's also true that I don't particularly enjoy looking stupid. Unless you're looking to boost every other girls confidence at the party, don't voluntarily wear khakis, a sweater vest and a wig.

#2: Not Every Bargain Is a Good Thing

I pride myself on being- what most would consider, a very strong bargain shopper. While most people experience buyer's remorse on things such as clothing and candles, the product of my buyer's remorse can be visited at Tawni's Ponies and Petting Zoo in Filmore, California. Apparently, return policies on discounted sheep could be better.

#3: Costco Requires a Chaperone

I'll be the first to admit, I can be impulsive with some of my purchases and not all of them make sense. Last shopping trip I had, I came home with beets, chalkboard paint and a pizza stone. Not long after moving in, my roommates instated the 'Costco Chaperone Rule' for me. This one can be accredited to my mother.

(Just in case you're wondering. Those are garden gnomes)

#4: Payback's a B*tch

In hindsight, getting a tattoo with the intent of removing it probably wasn't the smartest move I could have made. Some (including my mother) may say my attempt to prove a point was stupid... point taken.

#5: These Are My Confessions

I've come to accept I make rash decisions. Some good, some bad, mostly stupid. My recent self discoveries have also led me to my top 3 ways to handle myself when the going gets tough.

A. (my least favorite) Beg for forgiveness and accept the consequences

B. Play dumb or

C. (my favorite) pretend I don't hear them.

Out with the old, in with the New...ish

Lesson 4: "Beneath the makeup and behind the smile I am just a girl who wishes for the world." ~Marilyn Monroe

It's officially the new year and time for me to once again reevaluate what mediocre life goals I've accomplishments over the past 365 days. And believe me, I cling this pseudo holiday as if it's the only window of opportunity to reinvent my life.

This morning, it occurred to me in the final stages of perfecting the my 2011 model, that this year's design bared a striking resemblance to every model released over the past decade. And thus, the true self realizations began;

New Year's Resolution #1:

Get in Shape

I have zero self control when it comes to junk food yet I will go to the ends of the earth to avoid working out. If fitness and heath were achieved by number of Cooking-for-the-calorie-conscious or dance-your-ass-into-shape apps I've bought I would be the picture of perfection. But the let me be the first to tell you, the shake weight doesn't shake itself.

New Year's Resolution #2:

Get a New Hobby

Each year, I vouch to change my perspective on life and start living outside the box. You know, really walk on the wild side. This year, I took my badass self and got a pet fish. *Shout out to my landlord, Paul, for the generous exception.

New Year's Resolution #3:

Give Back

Ok, this one's precautionary, in case I become the next Anne Frank. I've taken it upon myself to ensure my generation is remembered as being the somewhat, half decent individuals I know them to be.

In reality, I'm not sure my one sad attempt at babysitting is enough to drag my butt across the line of decency, let alone my generation's.

Alright, screw it.

This year- I'm trying something new.

No resolutions, no goal weight, no more pretending I'm satisfied with just a salad for dinner. 2011 is going to be my year to do what I want and enjoy life.

Plain and simple.

Oh, and try to be a little better about the whole flossing thing.

Christmas Cups Are Always Half Full

Lesson 3: "Christmas isn't a season. It's a feeling." -Edna Ferber

Everyone has different ways of dealing with stress. For some people it’s as simple as taking a long walk, relaxing in a warm bubble bath or watching their favorite movie after a long day at work. For me, my escape is Christmas.

My whole life I have been obsessed with every aspect of the Christmas season. I get it, who doesn’t like Christmas? Right? But my extreme love for the holiday goes above and beyond any justified seasonal cheer.

As a little girl, I remember sitting in bed on Christmas morning, beaming with excitement waiting for my parents to give my sister and I the okay to burst through the door and rush downstairs see what Santa had left us.

I quickly came to the realization as a child that I wanted this kind of excitement every morning. And so, it began.

I changed my alarm permanently to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas”, started making gingerbread houses on a normal basis, watch Elf at least once a month, work out to a playlist of solely Christmas music and often wear Christmas socks because it makes me smile.

Normally around this time of year, people take to their facebooks to complain about Walgreens, Target or Starbucks setting up for Christmas “too soon”. While I find these statements absurd, I use them as leads to discover my inner holiday cheer. Something as simple as walking the aisles of plastic ornaments at my local Rite Aid will make me feel as though I have stumbled into Narnia on a Tuesday afternoon.

Last week, while waiting in line at Starbucks I could hardly contain my excitement to get my very own bright red, holiday paper cup. After patiently waiting my turn, the barista smiled as he handed me my grande hot chocolate in their signature white cup. My heart stopped and I began to look at the man as if he were Scrooge. Clearly, he was trying to ruin my Christmas.

As I slowly reached for the cup across the awkwardly high counter, I couldn't help but lock eyes with him as I tried to remember how to count to ten. "Is everything okay, Miss?"

After telling myself to let it go and mapping out the quickest way to get to Starbucks on Bundy, I blurted out "I'm sorry, I just really wanted a red cup." The man quickly replaced it, smirked and said, "Merry Christmas, kiddo". I smiled, resumed my playlist and continued on my merry way with my hot chocolate in the 87 degree October weather.

So because I simply can't wait any longer,

Let me be the first to officially wish you a Merry Christmas.

Love,

Courtney Clydesdale

Quest for Love

Lesson #2: "The course of true love never did run smooth." -William Shakespeare

Recently, I visited my Grandma in her new nursing home just outside of Nashville. Within two minutes of arriving she had already begun questioning me on my dating life... or lack there of.

My grandma likes to tell me how she and my grandpa first met. After watching his date run to the restroom to freshen up, my grandma quickly swooped in at the local skating rink and asked the hot Navy SEAL to be her partner for couple’s skate and The Rest Was History. I tell her she’s a lucky homewrecker, and she tells me I’m a loser.

Truth be told, if based SOLEY on my dating life, I am a loser. In college, I went through a Persian stage. Aside from the excessive cologne, Ed Hardy t-shirts and their unwavering self confidence, I’m not exactly sure why I questioned my interest while they tried their best to seduce me on a plastic covered couch with techno music pounding in the background. I guess they’re just not for everyone.

It’s been brought to my attention that my current type is commonly referred to as a tool or a tool bag. After Urban Dictionary-ing the term, I now know this is not particularly great news, but still better than Persians.

Lately, I’ve even tried my hand at online dating; eHarmony, Christian Cafe and at one point contemplated joining JDate. I filled out 4 hours of intense questionaires only to be matched with a guy I already knew and to be rejected by some guy named Austin from Santa Monica. If you see him, tell him Courtney from Brentwood lied and would rather die than enter a Triathlon.

Just when I was about to give up on finding true love, I stubbled upon my soon to be live-in-lover who's both hairy and Persian.

Meet Cobalt from Beverly Hills.

My Fair Lady?

Lesson #1: "A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous." -Coco Chanel

My whole life I have been fascinated by the story tale women wearing beautifully ruffled dresses and big hats discussing male suitors over afternoon Tea. Unfortunately, I've come to the realization that the idea of me being the class act I idolize is about as far fetched as they come.

Raised in a Southern Baptist home by a former beauty queen and a musical composer, one would assume the product of these two would have been one heck of a classy lady yet I'm convinced that gene somehow skipped my generation.

Growing up, my Dad often recorded with the London Symphony and would take my Mom and my sister and I to shop at Harrods, bargain for antiques and go to Tea at The Ritz.

Over the years, Tea became the Clydesdale girl’s bonding ritual. After school I would play with the neighbor boys and at sundown rush inside to put on my newest dress and help Mom carefully cut the crust off the cucumber sandwiches while heating up the tea kettle just in time talk over our day at school.

Now that I’m officially an adult; While I still use Tea time to regain my sense of class and girlishness, realistically, my version of the cup’o’Tea would probably make even Eliza Doolittle cringe.

My first challenge is to learn to become a modern day sophisticated woman, which starts by taking ass out of class. The next step is to start shopping at Anthropology.