The BFF knows that I'm here to serve as her Wingman of Honor whenever she needs me. It's a duty that I've expected her to fulfill for me before too. Wingman of Honor, as you probably guessed, is the precursor to someday becoming someone's Maid of Honor (or it better be at least!), and requires that one of us show up to assist the other whenever she is in need. And it doesn't even demand buying a special dress. (Although I'm totally in the mood to hit up J.Crew, so I would be willing to consider...)
Whether it's in the hope of one of us meeting a guy or just attending a social function where it's nice to have a compadre, serving in this duty is way easier for us considering The BFF and I have our routine down pat.
Do not ever underestimate the charming capabilities of a lil' ol' story like this:
Hi I'm Rachel. This is The BFF. We moved here from Texas together! We've been friends since middle school! We lived together freshman year of college and we still live together now! Isn't that special?!
This story is obviously told with the two of us finishing each other's sentences like an old married couple and sprinkling in random anecdotes along the way (adventure tales vary depending on the crowd).
I don't know what it is about our enduring friendship and the Living the Dream move to New York, but people (guys especially) eat that crap up like late-night leftovers.
Seriously, it's an attention goldmine.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Advice: There Is No Such Thing As a Sastronaut
The other night I watched a rerun of one of the best sitcoms currently on TV - How I Met Your Mother - that inspired me to write a post. Then I got sidetracked about how the show isn't as well-watched as it should be so first I must tell everyone to get with the program. HIMYM (I hate that acronym because it sort of reminds me of another word...but whatev, I'm very lazy) is incredibly well-written and funny, but it hasn't been the mega-hit of some of its similar witty, 30-something New York predecessors. While it's not necessarily the genius of Larry David, the cast - c'mon, it includes Jason Segel and Neil Patrick Harris! you gotta show that some love - plays off each other very well in some pretty hi-larious situations. So get the series off Netflex. Seriously, now, go update your queue.
[Note: For the amount I love to watch TV, it's fairly impressive I've limited my show plugs to brief GG, 30 Rock and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia references. If I haven't written about It's Always Sunny yet, here it is: it's effing hilarious. And if you're a girl looking to have something to talk about with guys, this is a great choice. Oh, and one last thing, it has been decided that out of me, The BFF and S (other friend since middle school), I would be Mac, The BFF is Dennis, and S is Charlie (Kitten Mittons!). I think that says a lot about us.]
Okay, it's Getting to An Actual Post time. In HIMYM (shudder), Barney Stinson (Neil Patrick Harris) is a total FJO womanizer. Then he dates a girl perfect for him, who happens to be his friend Robin, but eventually it ends. Please note that while they remain BFF, it's only because they only have like four other friends in the world. This is a rarity, remember that. Anyway, after the split, he goes right back to his incessant FJO-ish douchery of ensnaring more suit-loving ladies out there.
What unfolds in the episode is that Barney shares with his friends his hook-up Playbook that utilizes extreme imagination, set-up and faux-facial hair to orchestrate. Seriously, they are hilarious. You can read about every scam, con, hustle, hoodwink, gambit, flimflam, stratagem and bamboozle Barney used to pick up chicks here.
My favorite is "The SNASA" when he tells an idiot girl that he works for Secret NASA and tells her he's been to the secret moon, the smoon. See below for that and a few other gems...
Besides sharing that with you for my own amusement, the actual point is that Barney's antics are very exaggerated events of real-life FJO dating. Think about it like teen romcom prom scenes compared to your actual prom... they're never that creative. There are never choreographed, all-school dance-offs.
Anyway, Barney has no desire to seriously date any of the girls who fall for his charm, but that doesn't stop him from reeling 'em in. It's not that he's actually the devil, but he is pretty evil to women. Although some do make it pretty freakin' easy on him.
My advice is to be cautious when you think you've just met the most perfect guy ever and he seems too good to be true. Because, I hate to break it to you, he might be. Not to say you should be a distrusting Ice Queen to all men, but if a cute guy in a nice suit tells you he's an important businessman who has instantly fallen in love with you, don't be left the s'moron.
And to end this on a good note, I leave you with the suit-wonderment of Barney:
[Note: For the amount I love to watch TV, it's fairly impressive I've limited my show plugs to brief GG, 30 Rock and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia references. If I haven't written about It's Always Sunny yet, here it is: it's effing hilarious. And if you're a girl looking to have something to talk about with guys, this is a great choice. Oh, and one last thing, it has been decided that out of me, The BFF and S (other friend since middle school), I would be Mac, The BFF is Dennis, and S is Charlie (Kitten Mittons!). I think that says a lot about us.]
Okay, it's Getting to An Actual Post time. In HIMYM (shudder), Barney Stinson (Neil Patrick Harris) is a total FJO womanizer. Then he dates a girl perfect for him, who happens to be his friend Robin, but eventually it ends. Please note that while they remain BFF, it's only because they only have like four other friends in the world. This is a rarity, remember that. Anyway, after the split, he goes right back to his incessant FJO-ish douchery of ensnaring more suit-loving ladies out there.
My favorite is "The SNASA" when he tells an idiot girl that he works for Secret NASA and tells her he's been to the secret moon, the smoon. See below for that and a few other gems...
Besides sharing that with you for my own amusement, the actual point is that Barney's antics are very exaggerated events of real-life FJO dating. Think about it like teen romcom prom scenes compared to your actual prom... they're never that creative. There are never choreographed, all-school dance-offs.
Anyway, Barney has no desire to seriously date any of the girls who fall for his charm, but that doesn't stop him from reeling 'em in. It's not that he's actually the devil, but he is pretty evil to women. Although some do make it pretty freakin' easy on him.
My advice is to be cautious when you think you've just met the most perfect guy ever and he seems too good to be true. Because, I hate to break it to you, he might be. Not to say you should be a distrusting Ice Queen to all men, but if a cute guy in a nice suit tells you he's an important businessman who has instantly fallen in love with you, don't be left the s'moron.
And to end this on a good note, I leave you with the suit-wonderment of Barney:
Monday, March 29, 2010
WARNING: Men Migrating From Menhattan!
I don't want to alarm you or anything, but I've discovered a rather worrisome trend I felt like I should share. It has come to my attention that some of the best guys I've met in Manhattan are leaving the Big Apple for the greener pastures of Los Angeles, the city of whores. I mean angels.
This is unacceptable.
To help you better understand the dire circumstances we're experiencing, I have developed a color-coded warning system. Just like the Homeland Security alerts that the airport intercom is always rambling on about, it's super non-arbitrary and the distinct warning levels are easily understood.
Today's color is Eggplant Purple.
What does that mean? TERROR. Just kidding, it means moderate terror. How did we get to such a scary state, you may be asking. I will explain.
This terrible trend first came to my attention a few months ago, when J informed me that one of his friends Kenny - along with his awesome Texan wife - were migrating west. Wait, hold on what, you can leave New York and move somewhere other than Austin, Texas? Hmm, interesting concept. As my mother has led me to believe, Austin is the only option if you leave here.
Then soon after I heard this news, my friend Jim, the author of the Girls are like Beer; Girls are like Liquor posts, also announced he was moving to L.A. Since Jim and I are only friends via The Internet, it's not that big of a loss because we can continue to make not-funny Golden Girls references just as easily. I am NOT Stanley. Jaykay, it's still sad, though, because he's far more quality than most of the guys in the city.
And now, for the last straw, another one of J's "top tier" friends is the third (and hopefully final) great guy to depart for Cali. Not that the other trend-qualifying guys I've mentioned aren't wonderful too, but this guy - who we will refer to as The Mulk (J's friends love nicknames... + the body of the Hulk + the first letter of his name is M = The Mulk, please try and keep up) - is the one I've gotten to know the best. Unlike moi and the fact that the better you get to know me, the more IAAB, The Mulk is genuinely one of the nicest human beings ever, and his social presence will be missed.
While it sucks for us since we'll be stuck with an even shallower pool of acceptable men in this city (I have an entire list of nominees I'd be fine with leaving Manhattan...), I guess we should be happy for L.A. since lord knows they could probably use to bulk up their own non-douche quota. And in return, perhaps we could get a little of their warm sunshine.
So, farewell, friends, good luck and don't forget to come visit. Except in the winter because we don't need to hear about how much better it is in California.
H.A.G.S.
[Note: In case you actually wrote meaningful/heartfelt messages in people's yearbook, H.A.G.S. = Have a Great Summer. Aka "I have nothing else to say to you."]
This is unacceptable.
To help you better understand the dire circumstances we're experiencing, I have developed a color-coded warning system. Just like the Homeland Security alerts that the airport intercom is always rambling on about, it's super non-arbitrary and the distinct warning levels are easily understood.
What does that mean? TERROR. Just kidding, it means moderate terror. How did we get to such a scary state, you may be asking. I will explain.
This terrible trend first came to my attention a few months ago, when J informed me that one of his friends Kenny - along with his awesome Texan wife - were migrating west. Wait, hold on what, you can leave New York and move somewhere other than Austin, Texas? Hmm, interesting concept. As my mother has led me to believe, Austin is the only option if you leave here.
Then soon after I heard this news, my friend Jim, the author of the Girls are like Beer; Girls are like Liquor posts, also announced he was moving to L.A. Since Jim and I are only friends via The Internet, it's not that big of a loss because we can continue to make not-funny Golden Girls references just as easily. I am NOT Stanley. Jaykay, it's still sad, though, because he's far more quality than most of the guys in the city.
And now, for the last straw, another one of J's "top tier" friends is the third (and hopefully final) great guy to depart for Cali. Not that the other trend-qualifying guys I've mentioned aren't wonderful too, but this guy - who we will refer to as The Mulk (J's friends love nicknames... + the body of the Hulk + the first letter of his name is M = The Mulk, please try and keep up) - is the one I've gotten to know the best. Unlike moi and the fact that the better you get to know me, the more IAAB, The Mulk is genuinely one of the nicest human beings ever, and his social presence will be missed.
While it sucks for us since we'll be stuck with an even shallower pool of acceptable men in this city (I have an entire list of nominees I'd be fine with leaving Manhattan...), I guess we should be happy for L.A. since lord knows they could probably use to bulk up their own non-douche quota. And in return, perhaps we could get a little of their warm sunshine.
So, farewell, friends, good luck and don't forget to come visit. Except in the winter because we don't need to hear about how much better it is in California.
H.A.G.S.
[Note: In case you actually wrote meaningful/heartfelt messages in people's yearbook, H.A.G.S. = Have a Great Summer. Aka "I have nothing else to say to you."]
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Every Girl Ever is So Fat!
Did you know that it's March Madness? Wait, college basketball? Brackets? What are you talking about?
I'm talking about when it's the end of March and it dawns on you that - OMG - Memorial Day is, like, right around the corner! Then the "People Will See This Body Half-Naked" Dread sinks in because, like Every girl ever, I just realized that I'm so fat!
Then, like Every girl ever, I pretended to care about this turn of events when New Year's rolled around because, like Every girl ever knows, you have to at least say your resolution is to lose weight. Like Every girl ever, though, I knew this was shit.
I put off dealing with this problem by covering up myself with the necessary 75 articles of clothing. Plus, at least the upside to wearing tights every day is having them suck you in like linked sausage? Hmm, sausage? Am I hungry?
Err, where was I? Just like Every girl ever, I have a super short attention span and love snacks!
Anyway, after a few months of hibernation, I started to realize there was a problem when I couldn't fit into that ambitious pair of jeans I bought last summer. You know, the ones that make my ass look good! Like every girl ever, at first I blamed it on the fact that they had just been washed. Like Every girl ever, I was in denial, the first stage of grief. Grief for my non-fatass former self.
Like Every girl ever, I'm going to show this fatass who is boss! Like Every girl ever this will involve more talk than action, but girls love talking, so it's fine, because talking burns calories! So does sleeping. Sleeping in on Saturday mornings instead of going to Pilates is totally what every girl ever would do, so that's fine too!
No, but seriously, this time I really mean it! I'm super committed! Along with Every girl ever, I have started going to every class at the gym. Wow, some are really hard! Every girl ever, though, is panting and sweating just like me. Every girl ever does not look good working out. Except some girls do manage to look pretty, but they probably suck and have no friends.
Anyway, I've been working out really hard and eating salads every day for lunch. I'm certain the pounds are just shedding off. Then, like Every girl ever, I step on the scale to congratulate myself on my progress. "WHAT?? I GAINED a pound this weekend!?!" Like Every girl ever, I didn't really factor in that drinking 24 mimosas might be a little excessive in the caloric intake department.
Ugh, like Every girl ever, I feel like life is so hard sometimes! Sometimes I day dream about getting preventative gastric bypass surgery, maybe from Dr. Robert Ray!? Like Every girl ever, I loved Dr. 90210 even though his straight gayishness was very confusing! All those bright colors. Just like Chuck Bass, but Brazilian and into martial arts!
Then I remind myself that the best idea is for me just to stick to my hardwork and be patient...Wait, do I smell sausage?
I guess we could go watch basketball and drink a bucket of beer. There's always time to be dedicated when there's nothing good to watch on TV.
xoxo
Every Girl Ever
I'm talking about when it's the end of March and it dawns on you that - OMG - Memorial Day is, like, right around the corner! Then the "People Will See This Body Half-Naked" Dread sinks in because, like Every girl ever, I just realized that I'm so fat! Like Every girl ever, I was riding high on fumes from looking good last summer. Then things went down hill when, like Every girl ever, I didn't think that diets had any business in my holiday celebration considerations. A plate of Christmas cookies all for me? Don't mind if I do!
Then, like Every girl ever, I pretended to care about this turn of events when New Year's rolled around because, like Every girl ever knows, you have to at least say your resolution is to lose weight. Like Every girl ever, though, I knew this was shit.
I put off dealing with this problem by covering up myself with the necessary 75 articles of clothing. Plus, at least the upside to wearing tights every day is having them suck you in like linked sausage? Hmm, sausage? Am I hungry?
Anyway, after a few months of hibernation, I started to realize there was a problem when I couldn't fit into that ambitious pair of jeans I bought last summer. You know, the ones that make my ass look good! Like every girl ever, at first I blamed it on the fact that they had just been washed. Like Every girl ever, I was in denial, the first stage of grief. Grief for my non-fatass former self.
Like Every girl ever, I'm going to show this fatass who is boss! Like Every girl ever this will involve more talk than action, but girls love talking, so it's fine, because talking burns calories! So does sleeping. Sleeping in on Saturday mornings instead of going to Pilates is totally what every girl ever would do, so that's fine too!
No, but seriously, this time I really mean it! I'm super committed! Along with Every girl ever, I have started going to every class at the gym. Wow, some are really hard! Every girl ever, though, is panting and sweating just like me. Every girl ever does not look good working out. Except some girls do manage to look pretty, but they probably suck and have no friends.
Anyway, I've been working out really hard and eating salads every day for lunch. I'm certain the pounds are just shedding off. Then, like Every girl ever, I step on the scale to congratulate myself on my progress. "WHAT?? I GAINED a pound this weekend!?!" Like Every girl ever, I didn't really factor in that drinking 24 mimosas might be a little excessive in the caloric intake department.
Ugh, like Every girl ever, I feel like life is so hard sometimes! Sometimes I day dream about getting preventative gastric bypass surgery, maybe from Dr. Robert Ray!? Like Every girl ever, I loved Dr. 90210 even though his straight gayishness was very confusing! All those bright colors. Just like Chuck Bass, but Brazilian and into martial arts!
Then I remind myself that the best idea is for me just to stick to my hardwork and be patient...Wait, do I smell sausage?
I guess we could go watch basketball and drink a bucket of beer. There's always time to be dedicated when there's nothing good to watch on TV.
xoxo
Every Girl Ever
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Now It's Her Turn
For almost the entirety of our post-middle school friendship, The BFF and I have flip-flopped back and forth between one of us being single while the other is off the market. Although we've both had significant others at the same time, we've never really been single together. Probably a good idea, otherwise the world might explode with our awesomeness (read: douchery).
Anyway, The BFF just ended things with her BFJO (FJO boyfriend), whom she began dating within the first month of us moving here. It's the end of an era, but also the start of some entertaining times ahead considering for the past two years, she has not experienced the fun (read: trauma) of dating in the city.
The path she's been on is actually fairly similar to what happened with me in college. By Halloween freshman year, I'd met The College BF and was from then on out off the market. I never got to experience college dating, which when you think about it was probably like dating here. I'd be hard pressed to choose which scenario is more alcohol-fueled, immature or douchey.
Now that I'm the "expert" I will obviously offer plenty of unsolicited wisdom on the topic, but The BFF is a smart girl who will do fine. Oh, and the fact strangers are always professing their love for her due to her beauty won't hurt either.
Breaking up, though, is always life-altering. How traumatic the experience will be is usually based on how "natural" the ending was. When The College BF and I broke up, it was because we wanted different things - i.e. I wanted New York and he made it clear he never would. Since long-distance is the wrong distance, not to mention that I knew I needed to be single again before I eventually settled down, it was a fairly clean split that the distance helped facilitate. Oh, and the fact he landed another hardcore serious GF soon after I left...
Anyway, The BFF has suffered through worse endings to relationships (but she now has the upper hand in that, suckas!), and I've been very impressed (and proud) with her determination to do right by herself in this situation.
Anyway, The BFF just ended things with her BFJO (FJO boyfriend), whom she began dating within the first month of us moving here. It's the end of an era, but also the start of some entertaining times ahead considering for the past two years, she has not experienced the fun (read: trauma) of dating in the city.
The path she's been on is actually fairly similar to what happened with me in college. By Halloween freshman year, I'd met The College BF and was from then on out off the market. I never got to experience college dating, which when you think about it was probably like dating here. I'd be hard pressed to choose which scenario is more alcohol-fueled, immature or douchey.
So when I moved to New York - newly single with zero casual dating experience - things were, um well, interesting. The BFF did her best to try and share some of the lessons she gained while she was single in college, but if you've learned anything about me, it's that I'm an idiot and learn things the hard way. [Note: See July archive for reference.]
Breaking up, though, is always life-altering. How traumatic the experience will be is usually based on how "natural" the ending was. When The College BF and I broke up, it was because we wanted different things - i.e. I wanted New York and he made it clear he never would. Since long-distance is the wrong distance, not to mention that I knew I needed to be single again before I eventually settled down, it was a fairly clean split that the distance helped facilitate. Oh, and the fact he landed another hardcore serious GF soon after I left...
In the words of mothers trying to be hip everywhere: You go girl!
Monday, March 22, 2010
Your Happiness Annoys Me
I know this post will be kind of weird since yesterday I was all lovey dovey friendship kittens and rainbows. But today was a rainy Monday so whatever.
Last night I showed The BFF a not-quite-frenemy's (more of a Why Am I Even Facebook Friends With This Girl Who I Barely Know) new engagement bling and accompanying FB album because I was annoyed. And I'm still annoyed.
For no legit reason. Unless IAAB is a legit reason.
I mean, yes she's the kind of girl that you just don't like. And oh yeah, there's the fact she got engaged to a guy I had a crush like four years ago even though I had a boyfriend at the time but whatever. I know you're asking "Why are you even FB friends?" Obviously for moments such as this, duh.
Girl jealousy and annoyance toward other's happiness is nothing new. Remember when you were younger and so-and-so would get asked by The Cutest Guy Ever to the dance, making you vengeful and forever convinced she was a Fugly Skank? What, just me?
Or when Bianca had that Prada backpack that she loved and you only had your Sketchers? So then you had to try and steal her skeezy Andrew Keegan sloppy seconds to get revenge? Yes I did just compare you to Gabrielle Union. You could do worse. But you get my drift...hopefully?
Whether it be the "That should have been ME!" rage, or the "But I'm BETTER than YOU!" argument, no one is immune to jealousy.
And, now that we're older, it seems we are no less petty; we're no more excited for frenemy's happy life conquests. And Facebook is not making it any easier on us. Constant little reminders that someone has something you wish you had, whether it be the coveted engagement ring, the coveted puppy, the coveted new job. Or maybe someone is doing something way cooler than you're doing, and damnit you're the one who should be doing that! (Clearly Little Miss Namedropper is not above the I Hope Someone Gets Jealous About My FB Status/Mobile Upload fray. I do what I can.)
Whatever the reason, it's clear we're not growing out of this anytime soon, and I'm never going to be so altruistic that I'm happy for every one of my 1,200 FB friends.
So what can I do to overcome my bad attitude from last night? Write down positive affirmations about my own life? Meditate about things greater than me?
Nah.
Seek comfort in the hope that one day she becomes fat.
[Note: There has been a huge spike in the number of sorority friend engagements as of late, and I'd just like to say Congratulations!!! I promise I won't secretly hope you get fat.]
Last night I showed The BFF a not-quite-frenemy's (more of a Why Am I Even Facebook Friends With This Girl Who I Barely Know) new engagement bling and accompanying FB album because I was annoyed. And I'm still annoyed.
For no legit reason. Unless IAAB is a legit reason.
I mean, yes she's the kind of girl that you just don't like. And oh yeah, there's the fact she got engaged to a guy I had a crush like four years ago even though I had a boyfriend at the time but whatever. I know you're asking "Why are you even FB friends?" Obviously for moments such as this, duh.
Girl jealousy and annoyance toward other's happiness is nothing new. Remember when you were younger and so-and-so would get asked by The Cutest Guy Ever to the dance, making you vengeful and forever convinced she was a Fugly Skank? What, just me?
Or when Bianca had that Prada backpack that she loved and you only had your Sketchers? So then you had to try and steal her skeezy Andrew Keegan sloppy seconds to get revenge? Yes I did just compare you to Gabrielle Union. You could do worse. But you get my drift...hopefully?
Whether it be the "That should have been ME!" rage, or the "But I'm BETTER than YOU!" argument, no one is immune to jealousy.
And, now that we're older, it seems we are no less petty; we're no more excited for frenemy's happy life conquests. And Facebook is not making it any easier on us. Constant little reminders that someone has something you wish you had, whether it be the coveted engagement ring, the coveted puppy, the coveted new job. Or maybe someone is doing something way cooler than you're doing, and damnit you're the one who should be doing that! (Clearly Little Miss Namedropper is not above the I Hope Someone Gets Jealous About My FB Status/Mobile Upload fray. I do what I can.)
Whatever the reason, it's clear we're not growing out of this anytime soon, and I'm never going to be so altruistic that I'm happy for every one of my 1,200 FB friends.
So what can I do to overcome my bad attitude from last night? Write down positive affirmations about my own life? Meditate about things greater than me?
Nah.
Seek comfort in the hope that one day she becomes fat.
[Note: There has been a huge spike in the number of sorority friend engagements as of late, and I'd just like to say Congratulations!!! I promise I won't secretly hope you get fat.]
It starts young.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Meet the Friends
Two of my close friends have new lovers. Bwahaha. That word is so creepy. Anyway, part of my trip home included a little BF reconnaissance work because Facebook stalking only goes so far.
First on the approval list was meeting one of my closest college friends Keaton's new man in her life. She has dated a string of guys who have not deserved her, to put it mildly. One of whom I set her up with in college, and for that, sorry, girl. This new guy - based on the stories I’d heard - seemed to be the exact opposite.
Austin, the chic metropolitan that it is, had jumped on board with the Restaurant Week scene, which happened to coincide with my trip. Keaton and I began talking about a fun place try, and after scouring menus and much back-and-forth, we had it narrowed down to three choices. Since she was also coordinating with Jerry, she decided to cut herself out as the middle man and streamline the process. Streamline is such a gross, corporate word, sorry.
She set us up in a gchat chat room. Did you know this was possible? Because I didn’t. Blew my mind! I love technology! I love chat rooms?! I’m so weird! Of course I had to start my friendship with Jerry with my fav chat room ice breaker: “a/s/l”.
After he accepted my totally awkward full-court press new friend strategy, we made a group decision to go to Perla’s, a new seafood place that had a fantastic menu. And, unbeknownst to me at the time, a super nautical and preppy décor. Few things I love more than nautical preppyness.
I’ll be honest, Jerry totally surpassed my already-high expectations. Not to get super cheesy, but it really brings you joy to see your friends happy and treated well, ya know? She deserves nothing less.
After really getting into the third-wheel date zone, I headed to Houston to meet another friend’s new boyfriend. Lauren actually wrote a guest post about a match.mom success about this BF so clearly I needed to meet him in person. He too surpassed my expectations.
A year ago exactly, Keaton, Lauren and I were on The World's Greatest Vacation together in Hawaii. However, we were all experiencing less than amazing dating scenarios at the time, and to think how much has changed since then really makes you realize you never know what the future has in store.
First on the approval list was meeting one of my closest college friends Keaton's new man in her life. She has dated a string of guys who have not deserved her, to put it mildly. One of whom I set her up with in college, and for that, sorry, girl. This new guy - based on the stories I’d heard - seemed to be the exact opposite.
Austin, the chic metropolitan that it is, had jumped on board with the Restaurant Week scene, which happened to coincide with my trip. Keaton and I began talking about a fun place try, and after scouring menus and much back-and-forth, we had it narrowed down to three choices. Since she was also coordinating with Jerry, she decided to cut herself out as the middle man and streamline the process. Streamline is such a gross, corporate word, sorry.
She set us up in a gchat chat room. Did you know this was possible? Because I didn’t. Blew my mind! I love technology! I love chat rooms?! I’m so weird! Of course I had to start my friendship with Jerry with my fav chat room ice breaker: “a/s/l”. After he accepted my totally awkward full-court press new friend strategy, we made a group decision to go to Perla’s, a new seafood place that had a fantastic menu. And, unbeknownst to me at the time, a super nautical and preppy décor. Few things I love more than nautical preppyness.
I’ll be honest, Jerry totally surpassed my already-high expectations. Not to get super cheesy, but it really brings you joy to see your friends happy and treated well, ya know? She deserves nothing less.
A year ago exactly, Keaton, Lauren and I were on The World's Greatest Vacation together in Hawaii. However, we were all experiencing less than amazing dating scenarios at the time, and to think how much has changed since then really makes you realize you never know what the future has in store.
These sorts of self-indulgent photo-op tendancies have not changed in the past year, though...and it's doubtful they will in the future.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Poor Sandy B.
And the fact that her achievement (even if you think that Meryl Streep should have won...) is now cast with this dreary, depressing cloud sucks. It sucks big time. And it's not like he just cheated on her, helping to destroy the semblance of a family she had brought to his children whose real mother is a porn star. No, now the whole world knows about it, which I assume is really the cherry on the crap sundae. Think back to high school when a guy would cheat on his GF, and everyone would point their fingers and whisper. Multiply it by a million gillion to the power of TMZ.
My mom sent me this CNN article about the "Oscar curse" for female winners' relationships. She noted that "Who says this isn't the normal divorce rate in Hollywood?", which is a fair statement, but this really does show that a lot of men get threatened by the success of talented women.
J, just because three humans and a Googlebot read my blog, don't you get it in your head you should cheat on me because you are jealous of my accomplishments...
Oh, and two words about the woman Jesse cheated with: FUGLY SLUT.
P dot S: When you Google Image search for Sandra Bullock, the auto suggest is "Sandra Bullock hot"...so at least she has that going for her...
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Match.Dad Update
My mom (the woman who coined herself Match dot Mom) has been trying to fix me up with cute guys since the beginning of time. And then one day - which I wrote about here - my dad mentioned that he had someone to fix me up with, and I thought that maybe hell had frozen over.
Anyway, on my trip home I finally met the guy. Having not been to my dad’s work in a long time (he’s a research engineer, footsteps in which both of my brothers are following whereas I still think it was a miracle I managed to pass the Physics AP in high school), I stopped by one afternoon while I was in Austin to see what all he’s been working on. If you’ve met my dad, you know he’s brilliant, so he was sharing all these projects – descriptions and words my little communications-jargon-filled brain tried to make sense of – when a cute guy walked into where we were. When we had first gotten there, my mom had, of course, inquired whether or not The Grad Student was there, and my dad had lamented he hadn’t seen him that day.
So when this guy walked in, I didn’t really put it together that this was him, but I should have known since my mom asked him 100 questions. He was nice and cute, but the factors that a) He’s even older than MOJB (who I’m quite fond of), B) A grad student considering even more schooling, and c) Lives 1,000 miles from my current place of resident makes this potential set-up a non-issue.
However, that didn’t mean we didn’t need to have a little post-meeting discussion when my dad got home from work. Apparently The Grad Student had told him he thought I was pretty. (Which meant nothing since the previous night my brother had told us an older woman – the wife of a guy footing his engineering research project – had told him he was “F*cking gorgeous” – so any description less than that now is considered ugly IMO because I’m a competitive sibling).
After a brief interrogation, my mom and I came to find out that my dad had mentioned me to him prior to our introduction! How Match Dot Mom of you, Dad!
Even more hilarious than my father playing Yenta, he went on to lament that The Grad Student had left on his hat and “dorky” safety goggles instead of showing off his “nice head of chestnut brown hair.” Other phrases used to describe him included “a goodlookin’, young strapper” and “a gentle giant.”
Errrr? Since when did my dad turned into Danielle Steele? Hilarious.
Anyway, on my trip home I finally met the guy. Having not been to my dad’s work in a long time (he’s a research engineer, footsteps in which both of my brothers are following whereas I still think it was a miracle I managed to pass the Physics AP in high school), I stopped by one afternoon while I was in Austin to see what all he’s been working on. If you’ve met my dad, you know he’s brilliant, so he was sharing all these projects – descriptions and words my little communications-jargon-filled brain tried to make sense of – when a cute guy walked into where we were. When we had first gotten there, my mom had, of course, inquired whether or not The Grad Student was there, and my dad had lamented he hadn’t seen him that day.
So when this guy walked in, I didn’t really put it together that this was him, but I should have known since my mom asked him 100 questions. He was nice and cute, but the factors that a) He’s even older than MOJB (who I’m quite fond of), B) A grad student considering even more schooling, and c) Lives 1,000 miles from my current place of resident makes this potential set-up a non-issue.
However, that didn’t mean we didn’t need to have a little post-meeting discussion when my dad got home from work. Apparently The Grad Student had told him he thought I was pretty. (Which meant nothing since the previous night my brother had told us an older woman – the wife of a guy footing his engineering research project – had told him he was “F*cking gorgeous” – so any description less than that now is considered ugly IMO because I’m a competitive sibling).
After a brief interrogation, my mom and I came to find out that my dad had mentioned me to him prior to our introduction! How Match Dot Mom of you, Dad!
Even more hilarious than my father playing Yenta, he went on to lament that The Grad Student had left on his hat and “dorky” safety goggles instead of showing off his “nice head of chestnut brown hair.” Other phrases used to describe him included “a goodlookin’, young strapper” and “a gentle giant.”
Errrr? Since when did my dad turned into Danielle Steele? Hilarious.
Spring Has Sprung (Unofficially)
While I was enjoying my last day as a Stay at Home Person, I took a little walk and enjoyed the first Spring weather (that I've been here to soak up). When it was first nice a few weekends ago I was in Austin where the temperature was 80 degrees. Hearing it's 60 when you're in true heat is not that impressive. Then coming back I'm like OMG IT's SIXTY!!! THIS IS AMAAAAZING.
It just shows that perfection is relative to location.
Anyway, here are a few pictures I snapped in my favorite place in the city - Madison Square Park - where I haven't been since we moved. Luckily there was no Psycho Roommate spotting...
It just shows that perfection is relative to location.
Anyway, here are a few pictures I snapped in my favorite place in the city - Madison Square Park - where I haven't been since we moved. Luckily there was no Psycho Roommate spotting...
I also got a Tart Deco manicure - the new cantaloupe Essie color - and treated myself to a little Passion Fruit Tasty D. Livin' it up, obv.
And then I bought a plant. The BFF and I created a "Friendship Life Goals" list almost 2 years ago, and we've only crossed off one thing so far. And for some reason having a plant was on that list - I guess to prove our non-existant gardening abilities - so I figured it was about time. The guy at Home Depot assured me this was the easiest plant to keep alive, but we shall see...
And while I'm sharing things from my phone, here's a little something I recorded at the airport in Detroit while we were waiting to get our fllights rebooked. Kids on leashes = hilarious. I wish I had someone keeping me in line because I was in the mood to throw a tantrum too.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The Bachelorette of Job Hunting
I've spent the past 10 days lunching. Using lunch as a verb is super obnoxious, I know, but this entire post is kind of obnoxious anyways. Wah wah, tomorrow is the first day of my new job, the end of my Stay at Home Person lifestyle. Although, the lifestyle was mostly great because I knew I had a paycheck eventually coming my way. General unemployment would have been less glamorous and awesome (I tell myself).
I've had an awesome week and a half of relaxation. Well, not that much actual relaxing since I was traveling the world seeing approximately one million people - it's fairly exhausting to be nice for so many days in a row considering IAAB!
So since tomorrow is my first day, today feels like the last day of summer vacation before starting a new school. A little anxious, a little exciting, a little dread.
The truth is, though, I'm starting to get a little antsy for a routine. I need structure. Otherwise I might turn into this woman. And I'm legit excited for this new job - especially working at a smaller company - and the fact I'm doing sort of similar work just with a different twist that I hope will be more rewarding.
And the thing is, this job offer came at a time when I'd basically given up hope. J, my job coach, kept promising that SOMETHING would eventually work out. I just had to keep trying. And he was obviously right because he's right about everything. Sometimes.
Anyway, with most things in my life, the minute I'd been offered this job, other opportunities began pouring in. Well, pouring in relation to this job market.
After months of rejection and being burned by a job I was basically promised a few weeks ago - the Final Rose Ceremony of job interviews if you will - I felt like I was finally chosen to be the center of attention on a reality dating show after being one of those girls, the ones haplessly chasing and vying for attention from The Bachelor.
So there I was, with multiple opportunities to choose from. Although they each had their individual pluses, after some deep consideration, I went with this job, deciding it was The One.
And then, while I was in Austin this time last week, I got an email from the recruiter - the Chris Harrison of this analogy - letting me know that the job that left me standing at the alter wanted me to come in to interview for a different position. You see, me not getting that initial job was sort of a weird situation that involved company politics that went beyond me. But even without my current job agreement, I don't know if I could have pulled a Molly and taken the company back after they'd broken my heart and chose someone over me.
That's not how I do business. Or relationships.
Anyway, I'm excited for my decision. And since there won't be any made-for-TV reality wedding celebrating my choice, hopefully things will end better than they do for every couple resulting from those shows.
Wish me luck!
I've had an awesome week and a half of relaxation. Well, not that much actual relaxing since I was traveling the world seeing approximately one million people - it's fairly exhausting to be nice for so many days in a row considering IAAB!
So since tomorrow is my first day, today feels like the last day of summer vacation before starting a new school. A little anxious, a little exciting, a little dread.
The truth is, though, I'm starting to get a little antsy for a routine. I need structure. Otherwise I might turn into this woman. And I'm legit excited for this new job - especially working at a smaller company - and the fact I'm doing sort of similar work just with a different twist that I hope will be more rewarding.
And the thing is, this job offer came at a time when I'd basically given up hope. J, my job coach, kept promising that SOMETHING would eventually work out. I just had to keep trying. And he was obviously right because he's right about everything. Sometimes.
Anyway, with most things in my life, the minute I'd been offered this job, other opportunities began pouring in. Well, pouring in relation to this job market.
So there I was, with multiple opportunities to choose from. Although they each had their individual pluses, after some deep consideration, I went with this job, deciding it was The One.
And then, while I was in Austin this time last week, I got an email from the recruiter - the Chris Harrison of this analogy - letting me know that the job that left me standing at the alter wanted me to come in to interview for a different position. You see, me not getting that initial job was sort of a weird situation that involved company politics that went beyond me. But even without my current job agreement, I don't know if I could have pulled a Molly and taken the company back after they'd broken my heart and chose someone over me.
That's not how I do business. Or relationships.
Anyway, I'm excited for my decision. And since there won't be any made-for-TV reality wedding celebrating my choice, hopefully things will end better than they do for every couple resulting from those shows.
Wish me luck!
Monday, March 15, 2010
Oh Wow, Martha Stewart Suffers from CGS Too!
Martha's best friend, Mariana Pasternak, describes her romantic encounter with a wealthy man dubbed "The Mogul":
That he immediately ceased returning her calls was not part of Martha's script. Every rejection hit her hard ... Each unanswered phone call ratcheted up her obsession. We spent entire East Hampton weekends hunting down The Mogul. Eventually, Stewart dragged me up to his door, only to be confronted by another woman: "Who knew what a man like The Mogul might do if he found himself pushed just a tad too far by Martha's in-your-face desperation? Harassment. Trespassing. Stalking. Martha's distress at her failed sentimental escapades made my heart ache."
Aww, Martha, you've survived PRISON! You've BUILT AN EMPIRE ON BEAUTIFUL THINGS! You've got two French Bulldogs who have their own blog! You're above stalking...leave that to us commoners!
[On a side note, I had 3 rounds of interviews at Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia here in NYC and thought I'd died and gone to craft heaven while I was there...sad not to get to work for her, but the job I was interviewing for wouldn't have been that great so oh well. But still, just seeing her empire in action was a-mazing. If you hadn't picked up on it yet, I'm really into the idea of empires].
P Dot S: Maybe don't mess with someone who has her own knife collection? Just a thought...
Our Nation's Capital: Full of Cute Girls & Good Food
I had an amazing time in D.C. – the first stop on my whirlwind Rachel’s World Tour (yes that is the name of my mom’s Facebook album dedicated to it).
My hostess with the mostess Mere – a former college roommate – was awesome per usual. Minus the fact she felt compelled to stock her fridge full of delicious treats for me. Although she was trying to be healthy, there really is nothing too dietetic about using turkey pepperonis as chip substitutes for an entire container of humus at 1 a.m.
Not only did she feed me incredibly well (she took me to one of the best brunch spots I’ve EVER been – Tabard Inn for those of you visiting D.C. any time soon), but she also arranged for us to borrow her boss’ adorable French bulldog Lola to take on a walk around the Capitol.
Now that’s friendship.
My hostess with the mostess Mere – a former college roommate – was awesome per usual. Minus the fact she felt compelled to stock her fridge full of delicious treats for me. Although she was trying to be healthy, there really is nothing too dietetic about using turkey pepperonis as chip substitutes for an entire container of humus at 1 a.m.
Not only did she feed me incredibly well (she took me to one of the best brunch spots I’ve EVER been – Tabard Inn for those of you visiting D.C. any time soon), but she also arranged for us to borrow her boss’ adorable French bulldog Lola to take on a walk around the Capitol.
Now that’s friendship.
Don’t Lola and I make a cute couple? That play date has further fueled my “I NEED A DOG” fire.
While I was in our nation’s capital, I was also reminded of something: The farther south you go, the higher the concentration of pretty girls. Not that I’m saying there aren’t cute girls up north, but being in D.C. – at a Pat Green, King of Texas country, concert no less – it was overwhelming. And a good incentive to stay in New York. Just kidding, but seriously, sort of.
To prove this theory, Texas is even more chock full of pretty girls than D.C. My high school was not only notorious for high school football domination and daddy’s money snobbery, but also for our extremely high percentage of attractive ladies. Then I moved on to the University of Texas – the sorority scene no less – which was practically a beauty pageant. No, that doesn't hurt your self-esteem at all...
There’s just something about girls who pride themselves with being put together, wearing make-up and doing their hair - something lots of Yankees don’t seem to understand or make a high priority. So when you find other cute girls in New York, it’s important to befriend them immediately (if for nothing else than to have a few good wingwomen or FoF’s to set up with guys you know). Hence why Elle and I have become good friends!
And, since I love matchmaking, I set up Mere with Em (Elle's DC DYFU counterpart), and they’ve become buddies! So fun to all hang out together, although they were witnesses to me ordering the Kill It Skillet at brunch before I headed to the airport. Because before a long day of traveling, you obviously should consume a bowl of macaroni and cheese topped with bacon, chorizo, truffled shoe string potatoes, AND a fried egg. Childhood obesity is a real thing. Although I was reminded by a sweet younger friend that when I turn 25 in August, I will be in my late 20s. Fml.
All in all, it was a fantastic trip. And, Mere, your apartment smells fantastic! (Mere loves nice-smelling things, and when we lived together, she would always light UNATTENDED candles at our parties, and I would always run around blowing them out. And then she would run around screaming at me. Awww memories).
Saturday, March 13, 2010
I Suck at Traveling
While I'm patiently waiting - currently stranded in Detroit on my way back to New York thanks to some sort of giant monsoonish inconvenience - I'm reminded of the other dumbass travel scenarios I've gotten myself involved in other the past few years.
Unlike this bout of bad luck, which is no way under my control, I am typically stranded due to my own attempts to make life harder for myself. Because sometimes I just think that life is, maybe, too easy for me.
Okay, that is just what I tell myself when I do stupid things that result in way more time and effort than are necessary. It is also what I tell myself when my crippling frugality rears its ugly head, causing me to make an idiotic decision amounting to mass personal inconvenience.
The worst instance of this took place soon after I moved to New York. My first job paid approximately one dollar. Well, one dollar in pre-Recession New York money. I was so close to the poverty-line that my friend working on her Master's in Social Work alerted me to the fact I could probably qualify for food stamps based on my socioeconomic standing. I told her that unless I could use food stamps at Happy Hour, I wasn't going to resort to that.
So, due to this and the fact that airfare is not free, when my first friend got married that June, paying for a flight home for the wedding was a major expenditure in my budget. When I looked at flights online, it was about $100 cheaper to fly out of Philly than one of the NYC airports. Having had a friend fly into Philly to take advantage of a free Southwest flight (pre-La Guardio route days), I knew it was a possibility (albeit inconvenient), but $100 seemed like enough money to be worth it.
Because I'm a genius (and was possibly drunk from one of my typical Happy Hour outings when I was far cooler and more social than I am now), I went ahead and booked the flight from Philly to Dallas - scheduled to leave super early on a Friday and return late on a Sunday - without bothering to check the NJ Transit tain schedule.
Like I said, I'm a genius.
Turns out there was no way I could get to or from Philly on the cheap train I had planned on due to the timing. I was forced to pony up over $150 on a roundtrip Amtrak ticket just to be able to make use of my non-refundable plane ticket.
Yeah, F.M.L.
Oh, that hassle and extra cost would have been enough penance, but no, oh no. The entire weekend was a swirling tornado of fun and excitement, but the entire time in the back of my mind I secretly worried about having to take an 11 p.m. train out of the sketch-tastic Philly train station alone.
But luckily things got worse, which was awesome since I love learning life lessons the hard way! I got to the train station just in time to learn that our train was broken down in Washington D.C. hours away. There was a zero percent chance of me getting home any other way, and I was thus forced to do my least favorite thing ever: waiting.
I talked to my mom and then The BFF on the phone until it was their respective bedtimes. Must have been nice. I could barely keep my tired eyes open, one of the most painful struggles when all you want to do is pass out. Since I didn't know when exactly the train would be arriving, I couldn't set an alarm to wake me up. But I knew there was no way I could stay awake.
So I did what any genius would do. I positioned myself in front of the most normal-looking couple I could find (slim pickings) because it is scientifically proven that a couple is way less likely to rape or mug you for your $5 in cash and travel pillow you've lugged around all weekend.
Thank God I did, though, because I passed out, and the next thing I remember, the guy was awkwardly trying to wake me up. I shuffled my arm-full of belongings down to the track to board.
And, while I 'minded the gap' as I went through the door, I watched in slow-motion horror as my beloved travel pillow - my last semblance of comfort - fell through the six-inch crack.
The hour-and-a-half train ride was spent in uncomfortable misery. I finally got home before 3 a.m. Monday morning.
I'll be honest, that was a pretty traumatizing incident for me. I mean, I had done it to myself. After that I was careful to book more convenient travel arrangements for about a year, when a once-in-a-lifetime Hawaii trip fell into my lap. The perfect storm for an adult spring break came to be through a free place to stay on the North Shore, 6 extra vacation days to use up, and my tax rebate.
Except, when I booked my flight through Atlanta, I somehow missed '24 hours of travel' notice. Apparently they expected me to land in the ATL at 11 p.m. then fly out the next morning.
At that point, I realized I could pay for a few short hours in a hotel or inconvenience local family to drive all the way to fetch me only to turn around to dump me back off. Plus I justified that I'm young and agile, or something. How many years of this sort of crap do I have left?
So I roughed it one night in the airport. I survived. It was slightly creepy, and super annoying when the cleaning crew showed up and started chattering away at 5 a.m., but oh well.
Those memories haunt me as I now wait for my future. Am I going to shell out the funds for my non-airline-comped hotel room? Or am I going to grasp at my youth and curl up in a chair hoping to hop on the next flight out?
Guess we'll see after I have a few a few dranks at the airport bar with my new friends (who are all in college and whining about missing spring break - again, FML).
Oh traveling, what a fickle mistress you are.
Okay, that is just what I tell myself when I do stupid things that result in way more time and effort than are necessary. It is also what I tell myself when my crippling frugality rears its ugly head, causing me to make an idiotic decision amounting to mass personal inconvenience.
The worst instance of this took place soon after I moved to New York. My first job paid approximately one dollar. Well, one dollar in pre-Recession New York money. I was so close to the poverty-line that my friend working on her Master's in Social Work alerted me to the fact I could probably qualify for food stamps based on my socioeconomic standing. I told her that unless I could use food stamps at Happy Hour, I wasn't going to resort to that.
So, due to this and the fact that airfare is not free, when my first friend got married that June, paying for a flight home for the wedding was a major expenditure in my budget. When I looked at flights online, it was about $100 cheaper to fly out of Philly than one of the NYC airports. Having had a friend fly into Philly to take advantage of a free Southwest flight (pre-La Guardio route days), I knew it was a possibility (albeit inconvenient), but $100 seemed like enough money to be worth it.
Because I'm a genius (and was possibly drunk from one of my typical Happy Hour outings when I was far cooler and more social than I am now), I went ahead and booked the flight from Philly to Dallas - scheduled to leave super early on a Friday and return late on a Sunday - without bothering to check the NJ Transit tain schedule.
Like I said, I'm a genius.
Turns out there was no way I could get to or from Philly on the cheap train I had planned on due to the timing. I was forced to pony up over $150 on a roundtrip Amtrak ticket just to be able to make use of my non-refundable plane ticket.
Yeah, F.M.L.
Oh, that hassle and extra cost would have been enough penance, but no, oh no. The entire weekend was a swirling tornado of fun and excitement, but the entire time in the back of my mind I secretly worried about having to take an 11 p.m. train out of the sketch-tastic Philly train station alone.
But luckily things got worse, which was awesome since I love learning life lessons the hard way! I got to the train station just in time to learn that our train was broken down in Washington D.C. hours away. There was a zero percent chance of me getting home any other way, and I was thus forced to do my least favorite thing ever: waiting.
I talked to my mom and then The BFF on the phone until it was their respective bedtimes. Must have been nice. I could barely keep my tired eyes open, one of the most painful struggles when all you want to do is pass out. Since I didn't know when exactly the train would be arriving, I couldn't set an alarm to wake me up. But I knew there was no way I could stay awake.
Thank God I did, though, because I passed out, and the next thing I remember, the guy was awkwardly trying to wake me up. I shuffled my arm-full of belongings down to the track to board.
And, while I 'minded the gap' as I went through the door, I watched in slow-motion horror as my beloved travel pillow - my last semblance of comfort - fell through the six-inch crack.
The hour-and-a-half train ride was spent in uncomfortable misery. I finally got home before 3 a.m. Monday morning.
I'll be honest, that was a pretty traumatizing incident for me. I mean, I had done it to myself. After that I was careful to book more convenient travel arrangements for about a year, when a once-in-a-lifetime Hawaii trip fell into my lap. The perfect storm for an adult spring break came to be through a free place to stay on the North Shore, 6 extra vacation days to use up, and my tax rebate.
Except, when I booked my flight through Atlanta, I somehow missed '24 hours of travel' notice. Apparently they expected me to land in the ATL at 11 p.m. then fly out the next morning.
At that point, I realized I could pay for a few short hours in a hotel or inconvenience local family to drive all the way to fetch me only to turn around to dump me back off. Plus I justified that I'm young and agile, or something. How many years of this sort of crap do I have left?
So I roughed it one night in the airport. I survived. It was slightly creepy, and super annoying when the cleaning crew showed up and started chattering away at 5 a.m., but oh well.
Those memories haunt me as I now wait for my future. Am I going to shell out the funds for my non-airline-comped hotel room? Or am I going to grasp at my youth and curl up in a chair hoping to hop on the next flight out?
Guess we'll see after I have a few a few dranks at the airport bar with my new friends (who are all in college and whining about missing spring break - again, FML).
Oh traveling, what a fickle mistress you are.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Bon Voyage
As I mentioned yesterday, things have worked out pretty peachy, and it's allowed me to throw together a last minute Rachel World Tour. By world tour, I mean 3 stops in the U.S., but still, I feel like quite a Jet Setter. Slash Bolt Bus setter.
From there I'm flying off to the ATX (Austin, TX for those not in the know) for a few days. I'm prob the only person going to Austin in March not for SXSW, but I get to see my fam, some more BFFs (and one's new bf!) AND JESSE (see photo, he's really enthusiastic about our friendship too), which is better. I promise.
XOXO
I'd already planned to visit Mere, one of my BFFs/College Roommates/Partners In Crime/Sister's For Life, in D.C. this weekend (along with the dynamic duo from Do You Fancy Us!!!!!!!) After reading my two-page itinerary sent to be my amazing hostess (the greatest gift I could get), it seems The District won't know what hit 'em.
From there I'm flying off to the ATX (Austin, TX for those not in the know) for a few days. I'm prob the only person going to Austin in March not for SXSW, but I get to see my fam, some more BFFs (and one's new bf!) AND JESSE (see photo, he's really enthusiastic about our friendship too), which is better. I promise. 
Then I'm headed to Houston to see DOLO, my super awesome grandma, and more of my amazing BFFs. I.can.not.wait.to.see.everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If you could not tell from my 1,000,000 exclamation points, I'm gidddddddddy with excitement. High on life, my friends, high on life.
Hopefully I'll be a diligent little blogger while I'm gone, but, let's be honest, we should all have pretty low expectations about that.
Maybe some of you funny people out there should send me something to post. Cough cough, hint hint.
XOXO
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The End of an Era
Tomorrow is my last day at the job I've had for two years. It's the end of an era.
The short version of a long story is that this job was like my First Love. First job in New York, first job out of school. The honeymoon phase was intoxicating (literally - OMG work happy hours! I love my coworkers!), and then it became familiar, and then it became clear it wasn't what I wanted for myself. It was about a year ago when I realized this job wasn't The One. I've made some great friends who will be my friends no matter where I'm working, and, let's be honest, there are some people I'd be fine never seeing again. I'm talking to you, Jersey. Just kidding!
But breakups are hard. And breakups are really hard if the relationship pays your rent. You don't dump your Sugar Daddy in the midst of a recession.
A mixture of soul-searching and that whole 'highest unemployment rate in for-ev-er' thing created job hunting gridlock. A long time ago, I complained about how the similarities between interviewing and dating were making me crazy. The initial excitement, the patience, the built-up hopes, the longing, the agony, the defeat. I'll be honest, it sucked. The good news is I got tons o' good interview experience. For a small fee (or snack), I will share some lessons.
The thing is, though, I'm not unique with my QLC. There's a great article here that will make you feel better (or maybe worse) about our generation's struggles. When I started my What the F to Do With My Life journey, I wanted something totally different. Or maybe I did? I thought about it? Who knows what exactly I wanted, but I just needed a change. I didn't necessarily know what would make me happy, and I spent a long time trying on different job ideas that could possibly shift me back to Not Wanting to Kill Myself. My family, friends and J were more tolerant, helpful and supportive than I deserved, and for that, I'm so appreciative.
What I've ended up choosing is actually a job that is somewhat similar to what I do now, but with a different focus that I think will better suit me. And I'm honestly really excited. It also helps me feel like I didn't waste the past two years of my life filling my brain with healthcare-related mumbo jumbo.
I started the year with positive thoughts, and everything has worked out better than I could have imagined.
For that, I am blessed and grateful.
And I couldn't be more excited.
The short version of a long story is that this job was like my First Love. First job in New York, first job out of school. The honeymoon phase was intoxicating (literally - OMG work happy hours! I love my coworkers!), and then it became familiar, and then it became clear it wasn't what I wanted for myself. It was about a year ago when I realized this job wasn't The One. I've made some great friends who will be my friends no matter where I'm working, and, let's be honest, there are some people I'd be fine never seeing again. I'm talking to you, Jersey. Just kidding!
But breakups are hard. And breakups are really hard if the relationship pays your rent. You don't dump your Sugar Daddy in the midst of a recession.
A mixture of soul-searching and that whole 'highest unemployment rate in for-ev-er' thing created job hunting gridlock. A long time ago, I complained about how the similarities between interviewing and dating were making me crazy. The initial excitement, the patience, the built-up hopes, the longing, the agony, the defeat. I'll be honest, it sucked. The good news is I got tons o' good interview experience. For a small fee (or snack), I will share some lessons.
The thing is, though, I'm not unique with my QLC. There's a great article here that will make you feel better (or maybe worse) about our generation's struggles. When I started my What the F to Do With My Life journey, I wanted something totally different. Or maybe I did? I thought about it? Who knows what exactly I wanted, but I just needed a change. I didn't necessarily know what would make me happy, and I spent a long time trying on different job ideas that could possibly shift me back to Not Wanting to Kill Myself. My family, friends and J were more tolerant, helpful and supportive than I deserved, and for that, I'm so appreciative.
What I've ended up choosing is actually a job that is somewhat similar to what I do now, but with a different focus that I think will better suit me. And I'm honestly really excited. It also helps me feel like I didn't waste the past two years of my life filling my brain with healthcare-related mumbo jumbo.
I started the year with positive thoughts, and everything has worked out better than I could have imagined.
For that, I am blessed and grateful.
I'm ready for the next chapter in my life.
Hopefully a chapter that does not involve The BFF taking pictures of me posing like a rodent.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Namedropping: Way Cooler If You're the One Doing It
364 days of the year, I hang out with commoners. Well, bitches, last night I stepped it up to the big time.
Let's make a short list of things I love:
1) Exclusive functions
2) Passed hors d'oeuvres
3) Celebrity sightings
4) Open bar
5) Buffets
Oh, what do you know, last night included all of those things. Plus, free popcorn and Diet Coke! And an invitation to a private after party at Chuck Bass' Empire Hotel. What do I have to show for it? A headache. And a picture of me with a celebrity!
Having never been to a movie premiere, I was excited just to go see the film. But it gets better. When you live by the Snoozing Equals Losing mantra, you tend to be aggressively early to events such as this. After securing our spots in line for Will Call, we got our tickets and Frank's sister seated us in some of the best seats in the house. The paper placeholders directly across the aisle from us read:
Ethan Hawke
Wesley Snipes
Bart Bass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
While other celeb sightings were exciting (Don Cheadle!), I still couldn't stop thinking about how I wanted to talk to Grizz and Dot Com because: A) I have issues separating TV from "reality" when it comes to my fav shows, B) They know Tina Fey. Meeting them would be like meeting Tina. Well, if Tina were a large black man. Also, I cannot even fathom the levels of unsurpassed awkwardness that would be reached if I ever met her based on the following interaction.
J being the sweet, not-totally-awkward-celebrity-interactor that he is, brought Grizz over to say hi to me. IMO, I was ambushed. Or that is at least my reason for giggling like a tiny child. Seriously, it was so embarrassing. I couldn't form words, much less a sentence in front of this giant bear of a man and all of J's friends. Luckily, though, Grizz could not have been any nicer. J assured me that since I'm a cute girl he was flattered. Maybe I was the one to assure myself that. I don't remember. Again, vodka waters.
Later in the night, we went over to say hi to Dot Com, who was wearing an amazing, super long white pin stripe suit. He was talking to Cedric the Entertainer (unrecognizably svelte!). Dot Com was nice enough to pose for a pic.
Anyway, the night was amazing. I also had an ephiphany: I belong in super fun awesome exclusive parties, and people should probably invite me to more of them. Just throwing that out there.
After another quick stop by the buffet (yummy short ribs were going to waste!), J and I made our exit around 1 a.m. (it was a school night, and also I'm a grandma, so that was like 6 a.m. for us). We got in the elevator with another couple, and I attempted to press the button for our penthouse descent. Except I was having trouble because the button with the * next to it wasn't the ground floor. Tricky. Also, The Vodka. The other guy helped me out, and I turned around to find myself face to face with a pretty blonde woman and her husband.
"OHMYGOD YOU'RE COCO!" I shrieked. Then I looked at her husband, "AND THAT MAKES YOU ICE-T."
"I rapped to your songs at my bar mitzvah!" J chimed in.
"I'm sorry your butt cleavage pics gotten taken down on Twitter!" I added, since I had literally just read about it on Perez Hilton earlier in the day. She asked me if I "followed" her. I do now!
In case you're not familiar with her, Coco is probably the most famous rapper wife, known primarily for her great assets to humanity. She was very pretty in real life, although a little too "Citrus American" (J's description of those bearing the orange Snooki glow).
What a small world. Me and famous people just shootin' the shit on the way out of a super fun awesome exclusive party in New York. Ain't no thang.
Then J and I went to his place, watched an old DVR'd episode of 30 Rock and polished off a bag of tortilla chips since I didn't get enough food...?
I'm sure that's exactly what Ice-T and Coco did too!
Let's make a short list of things I love:
1) Exclusive functions
2) Passed hors d'oeuvres
3) Celebrity sightings
4) Open bar
5) Buffets
Now that you're already super jealous, I guess I should tell you what exactly you should be jealous of!
Well, because I know people - by people I mean J's lululemon-wearing roommate Frank's awesome sister (who is legit people) - I scored an invite to the premiere of Brooklyn's Finest.
Having never been to a movie premiere, I was excited just to go see the film. But it gets better. When you live by the Snoozing Equals Losing mantra, you tend to be aggressively early to events such as this. After securing our spots in line for Will Call, we got our tickets and Frank's sister seated us in some of the best seats in the house. The paper placeholders directly across the aisle from us read:
Ethan Hawke
Wesley Snipes
Aweeeesome. Then I ate an entire bag of popcorn. Less awesome. Then I had some string cheese (like I said, I know people). Awesome. Then I watched as people started to fill in seats, including - OMG - Grizz and Dot Com aka Tracy Jordan's entourage on my fav show 30 Rock. Way awesome.
So, there I was, watching celebrities watch themselves (which is weird), getting a reminder of: a) Why I don't go to non-hipster Brooklyn, b) Why I am not a cop, c) Why being a drug dealer isn't really a great idea if you want to live.
Life lessons!
We all enjoyed the movie (it's intense - Training Day's Antoine Fuqua directed it), and then we made our way down the street to the Empire Hotel.
In case you're not cool and you don't watch Gossip Girl (returning next week, thank God!!), Chuck Bass - my close friend - bought the hotel on the show to be the base of his "empire" and to prove something to his dead dad Bart Bass.
Guess who was one of the first people I spotted at the party?
Bart Bass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! J tried to encourage me to go up to him with a straight face and say "It's so great to see you; I thought you were dead!" But luckily I had not yet had any liquid courage, so that helped me from becoming THAT girl.
Fast forward through buffet trip numero uno, me thinking that Grey Goose & waters were the way to go, making friends with the waiter passing mini crab cakes and Kobe beef sliders. Oh, and tons o' fames milling around. Sadly most celebs cooped up on an enclosed balcony that felt like the rainforest (well, at least the Moody Garden's Galveston version I went to as a child). I think that's where Star Jones was hiding, but honestly I don't think I'd recognize her non-fat self. Anyway, not worth gawking if you're sweating profusely IMO.
While other celeb sightings were exciting (Don Cheadle!), I still couldn't stop thinking about how I wanted to talk to Grizz and Dot Com because: A) I have issues separating TV from "reality" when it comes to my fav shows, B) They know Tina Fey. Meeting them would be like meeting Tina. Well, if Tina were a large black man. Also, I cannot even fathom the levels of unsurpassed awkwardness that would be reached if I ever met her based on the following interaction.
J being the sweet, not-totally-awkward-celebrity-interactor that he is, brought Grizz over to say hi to me. IMO, I was ambushed. Or that is at least my reason for giggling like a tiny child. Seriously, it was so embarrassing. I couldn't form words, much less a sentence in front of this giant bear of a man and all of J's friends. Luckily, though, Grizz could not have been any nicer. J assured me that since I'm a cute girl he was flattered. Maybe I was the one to assure myself that. I don't remember. Again, vodka waters.
Anyway, the night was amazing. I also had an ephiphany: I belong in super fun awesome exclusive parties, and people should probably invite me to more of them. Just throwing that out there.
After another quick stop by the buffet (yummy short ribs were going to waste!), J and I made our exit around 1 a.m. (it was a school night, and also I'm a grandma, so that was like 6 a.m. for us). We got in the elevator with another couple, and I attempted to press the button for our penthouse descent. Except I was having trouble because the button with the * next to it wasn't the ground floor. Tricky. Also, The Vodka. The other guy helped me out, and I turned around to find myself face to face with a pretty blonde woman and her husband.
"I rapped to your songs at my bar mitzvah!" J chimed in.
"I'm sorry your butt cleavage pics gotten taken down on Twitter!" I added, since I had literally just read about it on Perez Hilton earlier in the day. She asked me if I "followed" her. I do now!
In case you're not familiar with her, Coco is probably the most famous rapper wife, known primarily for her great assets to humanity. She was very pretty in real life, although a little too "Citrus American" (J's description of those bearing the orange Snooki glow).
What a small world. Me and famous people just shootin' the shit on the way out of a super fun awesome exclusive party in New York. Ain't no thang.
Then J and I went to his place, watched an old DVR'd episode of 30 Rock and polished off a bag of tortilla chips since I didn't get enough food...?
I'm sure that's exactly what Ice-T and Coco did too!
P Dot S: Hint Hint
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Revenge: Best Served in Tiny Specks That Will Stick in Your Carpet
Gather 'round for story time. Ever wondered
Craft Corner (I'm a Giant Nerd)
I read a lot of blogs. A lot. All different topics, really. News tidbits (Gawker, NY Mag Daily Intel), Celebrity Gossip blogs, friends' blogs (Do You Fancy Us, Tex and the City, The.Well.Set, Could Be A Crackhead y many mas), Cooking Blogs (Kiss My Spatula, Sugar Laws), Dating/Girlie Blogs (Lemon Drop), Mommy Blogs - weird I know, but some are hilarious! (Dooce, Mommy Wants Vodka), and last but not least, Design blogs (Apartment Therapy, A Cup of Jo, Design Sponge, You Are My Fave, Sweet Designs, and much more..). These are my newest obsession. When it comes down to it, I lurve pretty things. No, I'm not anywhere close to as talented as these people, but I cannot help but lusting over their ideas.
A la Costanza, I too would make Marine Biologist and Architect my top two fake careers choices. And along the lines of architecture, I have always had a love for interior decorating, for making a home beautiful and unique.
So really, the point is, having this new apartment has been my newest project, and I could not be more excited to have a "canvas" to make pretty. The other day I even excused myself from hanging out with J and his friends because I had crafts to attend to! Crafts don't craft themselves! I'm not the only one taking the time to make this a home, The BFF has transformed her room into what I now refer to as a "secret garden" - literally there are flowers everywhere, either in fake form, picture form, duvet form - but it truly looks magnificent! - and not too over-done.
When I posted here, the awesome, new apartment wasn't yet finished. I don't know if you give a crap or not what my apartment walls look like, but sorry, I'm going to show you my hard work anyway (plus I know my mom will appreciate it):
[Note: Sorry these pics aren't great quality - they were taken with my phone, so they're not as nice as I would obviously prefer. Also, one of my major failures in life is the ability to hang pictures straight, and that, coupled with the fact our apartment is legit slanted (just like that episode of Lily & Marshall's in How I Met Your Mother!!), it is super noticeable. Please don't judge too harshly.]
Front wall:
Coffee table:
A la Costanza, I too would make Marine Biologist and Architect my top two fake careers choices. And along the lines of architecture, I have always had a love for interior decorating, for making a home beautiful and unique.
So really, the point is, having this new apartment has been my newest project, and I could not be more excited to have a "canvas" to make pretty. The other day I even excused myself from hanging out with J and his friends because I had crafts to attend to! Crafts don't craft themselves! I'm not the only one taking the time to make this a home, The BFF has transformed her room into what I now refer to as a "secret garden" - literally there are flowers everywhere, either in fake form, picture form, duvet form - but it truly looks magnificent! - and not too over-done.
When I posted here, the awesome, new apartment wasn't yet finished. I don't know if you give a crap or not what my apartment walls look like, but sorry, I'm going to show you my hard work anyway (plus I know my mom will appreciate it):
[Note: Sorry these pics aren't great quality - they were taken with my phone, so they're not as nice as I would obviously prefer. Also, one of my major failures in life is the ability to hang pictures straight, and that, coupled with the fact our apartment is legit slanted (just like that episode of Lily & Marshall's in How I Met Your Mother!!), it is super noticeable. Please don't judge too harshly.]
Front wall:
Thanks, Santa, for my new TV! The BFF and I are like the children I'd always love to babysit: glued in front of it and well-behaved. I wanted something above it, so I found a few Papyrus cards to frame and then some beautiful paper from an art supply/design store. (It took me 20 minutes to buy the bird paper, 15 minutes of which I spent hyperventilating because of everything else I fell in love with.)
I don't love birds as animals, but I do like birds as design elements.
Pink frame from T.J. Maxx (great place to get cheap frames!) and Papyrus card, which has cute apothecary jars with little labels).
Similar card, similar frame.
Shadow Box:
This is when things got really crafty. I found this "shadow box" - actually a drawer! - on the street with another piece of wood that I'd hoped was a frame. I brought it home JIC I could use it, then painted it grey with our leftover trim paint and voila a cute little decorative shelf. I haven't decided what I'm doing with the paint colors yet, but I've always loved sample strips so I might leave them as is.
I think Honey Bears are so cute, and filled this one with fake Blue Bonnet (state flower of Texas) petals my mom sent me like two years ago. Little bird cut-out here and on the mini-canvas too.
Someday I want a real fish in one of those vases, not just a stuffed animal. The BFF and I need to "keep something alive" to prove our capacity for responsibility.
Side Wall:
I wanted to incorporate some bolder colors, and really liked this red Keep Calm poster. The chandelier pic is a Papyrus card.
Other Side Wall:
My paternal grandmother was a great painter, and I brought these two cloud landscapes of hers back with me after one of my last trips. The Flatiron painting was a gift from my wonderful friend Ash. She bought it for me for Christmas (WHEN WE WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO EXCHANGE GIFTS, BIATCH), and it turned out to randomly be from the exact artist in Union Square I had considered buying from before. Fate! The frame for that is actually the other piece of wood I found (which turned out to be a cabinet face, not a frame, but it worked perfectly to mount the canvas on).
Book Shelf:
Great to have the space to exhibit my 1000 scarves, movie collection (missing very important RomCom DVDs suspected to be stolen by Kris), books, etc. Note the bottom shelf contains my super awesome wicker picnic baskets I scored from the give-away pile at my old apt. WHO WOULD GET RID OF THOSE BEAUTIES!?!
I bought this Ikea table off Craigslist, hoping to paint it. That peeled off so I was at a loss of what to do with it. I had to make it work. Partially due to the Olympics, plus I've seen a lot of maps used in recent decorating trends - I was feeling very global - so I thought covering it in a world map was cool. And the colors help tie everything together nicely.
And there you have it, hope you enjoyed this tour of "Four Walls and a Coffee Table." Stay tuned for whatever a-mazing project I get myself involved with next.
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