A Nice Reminder Peter Pan Wasn't Raised in Neverland

J's parents came in town last weekend to visit. I had actually met them before (and stayed at their house) the weekend following Thanksgiving. Not only are they the kind of people you enjoy hanging out with, but it was also an appreciated insight into J's life pre-New York.

When you live and date in the city, everyone develops a pseudo-reality alter-ego. Especially men. Whether it be that they're guzzling out of the goblet of eternal youth, too afraid of commitment or just unaware that their peers are making their way down the aisle, the Peter Pan Syndrome is well-documented (DYFU Elle has quite a bit of experience dealing with the subject personally).

Anyway, I have unknowingly exclusively dated Peter Pans since I've been in New York. And J is no different. He actually self-diagnosed the syndrome, and I realized he was so right. But the city is an enabler. It's not all his fault.

Being around J's parents, though, was a nice change of pace. It's a good reminder that he has a family. He is a real person. As much as everyone can get caught up in their current personas, having the people around who know you the best help others get to know the real you too.

Wow, cheezy much?

P dot S: His mom and I went to C.O. Bigelows after brunch and she was so sweet and bought me some fun stuff, including God's gift to eye-makeup remover - Korlane. Keep your eyes peeled for it, hard to find but awesome!

Just a Typical Tuesday

Most days of my life are fairly uneventful. Wake up, go to work, try to manage to stay on task, try to ignore my boredom hunger cravings, gchat, go to the gym, come home, etc. You get the point. Life is super riveting.

Yesterday involved a few of those things, in addition to: almost flashing hundreds of strangers, stumbling upon legit celebrities, a crazy homeless encounter over homestyle chicken, and one of the best indie comedies I've seen in a long time about a high school kid who thinks he's the reincarnation of Russian communist Leon Trotsky.

And it was only a Tuesday!

Let me back track. In the vain attempt to make 2010: The Year of Doing Shit (title stolen from a failed attempt in 2009), I really have been making more of an effort to do the activities that always sound fun and New Yorky but my laziness has thus far pre-empted. Okay I'm sort of drawing a blank on some other examples of things I've done lately. But I know I have been doing stuff.

So Tuesday night I had gotten tickets for me and J to see a movie at the Tribeca Film Festival. I selected The Trotsky after a quick browse because it looked pretty funny, and Jay Baruchel is kind of an adorable cupcake.

Realizing I wouldn't have ample time to come home and get ready before our big night out (not that big, but anything's more of an event than our usual Tuesday routine of watching GG with his roommate Frank wherein gym clothes are a-okay), I took time in the morning to shower, get all gussied up and put on a dress that could function as an outfit later that night.

The dress I chose was a long-sleeved periwinkle number with an elastic waistband (could I have described that anymore to sound like something Rose would wear on Golden Girls?) that is sort of a tight-fitting silky material - I swear it's cute.

Here's where the day got off to an interesting start. Walking to the subway wearing my belted trench coat that hit about an inch above the dress, I realized that the dress was slowly riding its way up my thighs. Like reverse ghetto jean sagging. Oh shit. By the time I got to the train station, it had surpassed my ass.

OMG what do I do?? At this point, I don't think you can tell I'm basically not wearing any bottoms, but I can't be certain. I sashayed my way down the platform toward the very end, positioned myself on the other side of a pole from everyone else and attempted to wiggle the dress down with my free hand. Until I realized the subway conductor was staring directly at me from the Brooklyn-bound side of the station.

FML.

This moment was like that dream where you show up for class naked or something. Except it was a real life Tuesday morning commute. Thankfully as the train was approaching I managed to snag a corner of the dress and maneuvered it back down to safety. Otherwise things could have been real interesting for whoever was walking behind me up the stairs. Later when I told J about this, err, wardrobe malfunction, he commented that I was clearly traumatized from it. Apparently I still am.

The rest of the day passed with no excitement. I left work, met J and we headed to the theater in Chelsea. Per usual, I had not specifically mapped out our destination, so after we exited the subway (fully clothed, wahoo!), we looked left, saw a theater advertising for Tribeca, and made our way to it. Except it was the School of Visual Arts theater hosting a premiere for a movie we were not scheduled to see. Detour was worth it though, because out front were tons o' paparazzi yelling toward two women being interviewed by E's Ben Lyons (not as cute in person, kind of short, disappointing).

What do you know, it's Jessica Alba and Kate Hudson (her dress made it impossible to get a cleavage shot to deduce my own opinion on the boob job in question). Just a little evening celeb spotting to make up for my traumatizing morning.

From there, we walked the few blocks to our actual theater, and I made the horrible selection of Boston Market as our nearby quick dining option.

Here's a handy tip, do not ever go to a chain restaurant in the city (unless it's Red Lobster). First, there are a bajillion better places, and two, the quality is always sub-par and the service sucks. Guaranteed horrible experience.

Waiting in line behind a few other people, all of a sudden a crazy homeless man ran in, cut the line, and started beating on the glass case of food with his dirty homeless hands. At first the workers tried to ignore him, but then it became apparent to everyone that he had a severe speech impediment, had money and was trying to order.

The entire situation was actually really heartbreaking. To not be able to communicate when you're trying so hard must be incredibly frustrating. But more importantly, it was sad to see someone who is not receiving the medical help he needed. System failure.

Back to my drama. So we should have just left, except that they had already taken our order and the food was sitting in front of us, taunting us out of reach behind the glass shield. So close, yet so far. The homeless scene was made worse by the fact that the woman at the front of the line ordered - no joke - three turkeys. Because they were like $1 each. And since Boston Market obviously recruits talent straight out of Harvard Business School, the woman helping her waited for them to prepare her entire meal before ringing her up and letting the other customers pay.

Needless to say there was about to be a riot up in that joint, way less fun than the celeb-fueled-excitement riot we had just seen on the red carpet.

Finally we got our food, shoveled it in our mouths and headed to the movie. The Trotsky was one of the smartest, funniest movies I've seen in a long time. Definitely all the makings of a cult classic, totally the kind of movie I would have seen 100 times in high school. The writer/director Jacob Tierney was at the show along with some of the cast. If you remember, I love events like that. And, pat on my own back, I didn't giggle like a tiny child in front of anyone quasi-famous.

So, considering all the random activities strewn together over the span of my day, I think you'd have to agree it was quite an exciting lil' Tuesday.

Take that, 2010. Tons of activities checked off the agenda and it's not even May yet.

I Promise This is Funny

Normally any topic concerning that time of the month isn't blogworthy (unless it was like This One Time I Acted Super Irrationally For No Real Reason And It Resulted In Some Stupid Story... which could be every time I PMS), but I couldn't help but sharing this. Hilarious baby sorority sister Brooks at I Rewl You Drewl put this up the other day:

maybe you non-female readers are oblivious to this, but for the most part, feminine hygiene advertising is ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS. girls dancing around with scarves, random blue liquid--none of it makes any sense and no one has done a thing about it. until now.

it looks as if kotex has rebranded itself into a new we-get-you brand called u by kotex, and even though theyre using a stupid one-letter word, their new commercials are spot on. the new campaign features a slew of biting commercials that slay the old paradigm of monthly gift commercials. they are hilarious, and more importantly, so true.





And I figured out why you read this blog. It's because you can relate to me because I'm racially ambiguous.

You're Tacky and I Hate You

That would be my first instinctual comment on the website Go Try It On, where you upload outfit photos and strangers tell you whether to wear it or change it. Jaykay. But it is one of my fave Mean Girl quotes. Digressing, per usual.

This site combines a bunch of things I love:

a) Clothes and styling
b) Judging others (it's like Hot or Not for outfits!)
c) Technology being used for cool shiz

It's sort of like the suped-up version of in Clueless when Cher took pictures of her outfits to decide what to wear. Remember that? Of course you do. Because we were young and impressionable and thought she was so lucky. Well, now that could be any of us (with the time, patience and effort necessary to solicit feedback) thanks to good ol' technology.

Also, speaking of technological advances, remember in older movies when people always assumed we'd be living on the moon or at least in outerspace at this point in time?

Fail.

Sorry, just thinking outloud...and being disappointed.

Anyway, since I live with The BFF who proactively offers her feedback and suggestions about my outfits (she might not always say it nicely, but she usually has good ideas), I don't know if I'll throw my wardrobe out for the masses to judge.

But if you try it, leave a comment here about your experience! Like with most things in life, I'm intrigued but lazy.

Guest Post: Prom Drama - The Stuff High School Dreams Are Made Of

[Ed. note: When I went on my whirlwind world tour de Texas six weeks ago, I overheard my aunt describing to my grandma how my cousin Laurel was asked by her crush to the prom. I was intrigued. As Gossip Girl proves, you never really out grow your affinity for high school drama. Now, a week after the event finally unfolded, I give you her blog vindication. It's also a real life story to complete the stroll down memory lane of previous life stages. Reading her guest post didn't make me feel old or out-of-touch. Nope. It made me feel 17 again (not Zach Efron style). The initial excitement that leads to monumental expectations. The day-of hoop jumping and sense of endless possibilities. The awesome dance music. The other woman. The crush who crushes your hopes and dreams. The final let-down. See if you can relate.]

Laurel:

The perfect ask: Basically, my friend PD and I have a cute inside joke about carrots and ranch dressing because I eat them at lunch everyday, so one Wednesday night he brought over a sign with PROM? spelled out with carrots and ranch. [I thought stuff like this only happened on Laguna Beach. I guess guys at my high school didn’t realize making an effort would have been a nice gesture.] Keep in mind that this was THE GUY I wanted to go with and have liked for 2.5 years. So as you could infer, I was PUMPED.

Well after that it was pretty much the same between us. No dates, no nothing, but I kept holding strong until I found out that he had a girlfriend. Say what? A couple of weeks before Prom, he started seeing a girl, but hey, I thought, at least I get Prom, so I'll just suck it up and get one night and then she can have all the rest... [No joke, I lived through at least two similar situations. Ugh. You just think that one night will convince him you're the one. That only happens on made-for-TV movies on ABC Family.]

The (not so perfect) big day: The day of went pretty smoothly except for almost not being on time to pick up the boutonniere. (Since when is it okay for a flower place to close at 2 pm. On a Prom Saturday? Never.) After I picked up the boutonniere, I headed over to get my hair done. All the nails were done the day before, so I could have some breathing room in between all the day's duties. I knew exactly how I wanted my hair, and it turned out perfect! One of my friends was sitting next to me so we chatted, and got some prom nerves out, and then right after she left, another friend came into take her place. Needless to say, I was a complete chatter box. [Out of the three proms I attended, I never had a better time than I did getting ready beforehand. It seems to be universal.]

During that time, PD texted me to check what time pick up was, which made me smile. I'm a sucker. I love that sudden urge of getting a surprising text. It makes all 13 hours I spend checking my phone completely worth it. [Isn't that always the truth?]

The next hour was a blur of putting on makeup and getting on the outfit. At 4:45, my mom announced he was here. The awkward meeting - where the date has to talk with the parents and it can be really weird and uncomfortable - made me laugh this time around, don't ask me why.

The before-hand pictures were great and so was dinner. We walked down the road cracking jokes with each other. The whole thing didn't seem real at all. I was having the best time with the guy I wanted to go with, who had just paid for my dinner. [Aww.]

We were having a complete blast dancing until PD's future gf walked in - not dressed for prom - with her friend. I got tingly with anger and jealousy. I kept hoping he wouldn't leave me for her, but the next thing I knew he went to ask if she was okay (because she had been sick earlier in the day). What was I supposed to do, forbid it? Sure.

No more than ten seconds after that I look over and he's dancing with her. Cool. I pulled the bathroom card and the other girls in my group followed me out while another friend went to talk to PD and knock some sense into him. [Every group of girlfriends ever knows this move well. It's a classic.]

PD comes over after, knowing he did something wrong and apologizing like crazy. I say that I don't want to dance and start walking away. He keeps on apologizing, we go into the actual dance room and sit down. Then I tell him why I'm so upset. Yep, I did the complete unloading of every story and every thought I'd ever had about him. He stares at me, says that he completely messed up, asks why I didn't tell him everything sooner and we talk about a bunch of other stuff that made me feel so much better. Then Ke$ha's Tik Tok came on, which was kinda an inside joke/our song, so he asked if I wanted to dance again. This time I said yes.

At that point he became a good boy who followed me around being extra smiley, cute and funny the rest of the time. Until...BAM. PDgf's friend pulls him over and tells him something. I don't think anything about it, figuring he's just talking to a friend. Wrong.

Soon after, he makes up a dumb excuse about needing to leave, and I walk him to his car. We stand outside talking some more, hugging, laughing and hand-holding. All the cute things that keep replaying in my mind, it was great. [Oh I know that feeling too. Every millisecond counts.]

I walk back inside, totally glazed over in a rosy-giddiness. I knew that he would text me later...

Umm. Nope. Not once.

By Sunday morning, PD and PDgf were Facebook official. First of all, real mature, but second, I still had no text about what happened. On Monday, my friend tells me in last period that it turns out PD didn't go where he said he was going when he left me at Prom. In fact, he went to have hot tub time with PDgf. Wow. [He should have taken a Hot Tub Time Machine to a moment when he was less of jackass.]

We haven't spoken a word sense. Oh, high school drama.

[Ed. note: OMG he sucks. High school boys in general are not the brightest crop. But, c'mon, have you seen how cute Laurel is?? And, dude, it's almost summer. That relationship will be over in a month, tops.

Reading through this, I was able to remember how every emotion she experienced felt when it happened to me too. Her excitement and ultimate let down proves you never outgrow the high school drama because those feelings you experienced then will always haunt you. But, if my own blog vindication can be of inspiration, perhaps in six years her HS Crush will profess his one-time feelings for her, stand outside of a car and for once and for all make the move you had mapped out in your head so many times before. In the mean time, you're adorable and he doesn't deserve you. Plus, in a year you'll be moving on to bigger and better things, e.g. college. Thanks for sharing, xoxo!]

You Know What We Haven't Talked About Lately? Cougars.

Even though I've been slacking on my Cougar Coverage lately, MSN Lifestyle wrote this very informative piece called Cougar Moms!

"It can seem like it's your mom's job to mortify you. But a new wave of moms is doing more than making you blush: They act so sexy and flirtatious, they make you question their judgment — and your own sanity."

Just reading the subhead makes me want to buy a Mother's Day card that says "Happy Mother's Day. Thanks for not ruining my life by acting like a crazy whorish cougar!" While my mom did (and still does) do her fair share to embarrass me (e.g. trying to get me to approach cute random strangers; dancing at any opportunity), I thankfully have never had to compete with her for the attention of guys.

I don't think my father would really appreciate that very much...

I feel bad for the girls dealing with this mombarrasment, for instance:

"Jessica, 17, says that after her parents' divorce, her mom was a total cougar. "She started dressing younger than she was and went through younger boyfriends like crazy," Jessica says. "I felt like her new life was more important to her than I was. But one day when she came out wearing a fishnet tube top and super-short shorts with three-inch heels, I flat out told her, 'Mom, you look like a hooker.'"

"After a few months, Erica says her mom even drained Erica's college tuition money to buy herself breast implants."

Ugh. Maybe Jessica's mom could become an actual hooker, earn some money and help pay for Erica's college? Just a thought; I'm a problem solver. Luckily, MSN provides some key ways to "Get Your Mom Back!" Isn't that the kind of advice Maury is (still) on the air to dish out?

P dot S: The sunshine and warm weather remind me that summer is just around the corner. You know what comes with the new season?

Summer interns.

Stay tuned for any interesting tales resulting from the influx of cougarbait in the city. If nothing else, they will provide some eye candy and further feelings of being old and lame.

Oh College, How I Miss Thee

To continue sharing what I've learned about kids these days and waxing poetic about not peaking in earlier stages of life, today I bring you The College Years.

First of all, let me start by saying that the college years of any TV show are always super whack. Like they were the same, but different, always forcing you to ask questions, for instance, how did you and all your best friends end up at the same place? Why are yall still hanging out? Why aren't you completing all your hopes and dreams you talked non-stop about in high school? Why are you falling to the pressures you were previously so against?

Oh, did I mean sitcom college years, or my own college experience? As I've mentioned, The BFF, S and I have known each other since 6th grade. And we all went to college together. Really branched out of the trust tree nest, didn't we. Although, in our defense, we all managed to add our own respective casts of supporting characters during our time at Playboy's No. 1 Party School in America.

The list was determined by Playboy's editors, with help from the magazine's campus representatives, models [obviously me], photographers, online voters and student readers.

Here is where I digress into a full-on burnt orange love fest. The University of Texas rules at everything (when shoulders aren't hurt in the first drive) and was the best college experience I could have asked for. Whenever I go home, I lurve going around that area of town and reminiscing (except so much has changed! why oh why!). Don't worry, I still have lots of UT family connections who are around campus so it's less creepy and stalkerish than it sounds. Maybe. Also, I'm so jealous of my younger cousins/siblings for still being there. Wah wah, I'm an adult.

In hindsight, perhaps maybe I should have spent more time working toward some illustrious professional dream, catapulting myself into future success. Really dropped the ball on that one, but let's be honest, I did my fair share to help the school become No. 1 in Awesomeness while I was there, and really that's sort of a reward in itself...

Anyway, apparently in the few years that I've been gone, students like this girl at Vanderbilt are taking a stand against typical co-ed debauchery. She's done with "raging" and "hooking up," even though the "hook-up culture can be hard to avoid... and the Greek scene also can create more pressure to hook up." Duh.

Thankfully CNN helps clarify age-old questions about what the term "hooking up" really means: "usually defined as a no-commitment, physical encounter with a stranger or acquaintance. Hooking up can range from just a make-out session all the way to sex. Other lingo for the no-commitment sexual encounters are "booty calls" or "friends with benefits."

Oh wait, that was the least helpful definition ever.

Sweet Frannie Boyle is upset and embarrassed about her behavior freshman year where "after consuming large quantities of alcohol before a party, her night would sometimes end in making out with a stranger or acquaintance."

Oh Frannie, who could you!? Ha haaa just kidding, no judgment from me.

The article continues, "Casual hook ups fueled by alcohol may be the norm across college campuses, but Boyle, now a 21-year-old junior at the school, chose to stop. Her reasons to quit hooking up echo the emotional devastation of many college students, particularly girls whose hearts are broken by the hook-up scene."

Don't take it personally, Frannie, the boys you were hooking up with are most definitely imbeciles. They're 18 year old guys who are still babies, and OMG being in a frat does not help the situation, what do you expect? She's also upset because hooking-up has replaced dating. Well, let me tell you a little secret, Frannie, your idea of dating isn't going to happen in college. Ever. If you're looking to go on real-life dates, you better look else where than "at Vanderbilt University, a pristine campus defined by elegant, Southern-style architecture and manicured lawns." I'm sorry, what was that reporting, CNN?

My favorite part of the article, besides how the entire thing that made me feel old and also sad for media outlets reporting on this uber important trend called OMG IT'S COLLEGE AND THIS IS NOT NEW, is the description of day parties.

"Boyle explained the warm weather compels some students to engage in "day fratting," imbibing for hours in the front yard of a fraternity. Day fratting can result in "afternoon delight," noncommittal physical activity between two people that can include casual sex."

Ahhh glorious day parties. And, in defense of No. 1 Party Schools, I've never heard anyone use the phrase "afternoon delight" - it's muy creepy.

I leave you with this walk down memory lane, although sadly most of my favorite pictures are only available in hard copy [Note: one of the BEST parts about college was T.O.P.S - Take Our Picture - party photographers who helped document all that times you don't remember and sell it back to you for $2.50ish a pop. I have over $400 worth of memories stored at home in all there amazing glory.]

P dot S: Spoiler alert - I may have peaked in college. (At least in the fun department). Also I'm clearly very photogenic, especially when making weird faces which is a consistent college theme apparently.

Am I the Only One Who Thinks This is AWESOME?

I heart sea creatures and entertaining short films.

Two Years Down, A Lifetime to Go

Minus the whole We're Moving to New York Dream (mission accomplished), The BFF and I have sort of failed when it comes to fulfilling all of our other hopes and dreams. So two years ago, The BFF and I decided we should put them down on paper to add some accountability.

Here's the list we made, which is now displayed in our bathroom for all guests to see (and daily reminders that we should do some stuff on it):

The first thing you're probably saying to yourself is, "Wow these girls have diverse interests and seem super cool!" I mean, that's what I would say. The next thing is, "I wonder how many they've actually accomplished."

Well, after two years, we've crossed off two items*.

We've walked across the Brooklyn Bridge - twice - I know, over-achievers.

Here's us during the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. Fun fact: walking 40 miles in two days is way harder than you'd think! And yes, we are wearing fanny packs.

And the other thing we've crossed off the list? I bought a plant (that I haven't killed yet, knock on wood).

Go us.

*Someday we might count cheater things (e.g. the African tram ride at the Bronx Zoo and the dinosaur skeleton & giant squid replica at the Museum of Natural History) to make us feel better about ourselves.

Congrats on Not Peaking in High School

Unless you did, in which case, that sucks, I'm sorry.

This weekend I watched Can't Buy Me Love starring pre-McDreamy Patrick Dempsey who plays a the nerd jonesing to be popular. I'll be honest, I know this 80's teen rom com way less than any of John Hughes' movies, but it was on my new fav channel ABC Family (ugh), so J and I got sucked in.

J: "This movie has such a distinct place in my memory of 1987. I saw it in the theater with my friend and his big sister..."

Me: "Yeah, in 1987 I was working on walking, talking and throwing tantrums..."

Oh generation gaps.

Anyway, Patrick aka Ronald essentially "rents" the prettiest, most popular girl in school Cindy Mancini so he can infiltrate the cool crowd.

Like all teen movies - and all teen real life - being popular is the end all be all. It's like no one gets that after high school is college and/or the rest of your life.

Whether or not you were 'cool' in high school has no merit on how your life will turn out (unless you were an awkward social pariah in which case you might be forever and you should probably start looking for some friends who accept you for you because, sorry, you're just never going to be socially competent).

Maybe you were well-liked in high school and you're a generally cool person now. Maybe you were Editor of the yearbook in high school and now you're super cool. If that's the case, let me know and we can be friends. Maybe you were the undercover hot guy who just didn't give a shit and now is a huge ladies man.

There are tons of possibilities that don't follow the typical teen rom com formula that prove you can kick social ass later in life after high school graduation.

But my favorite plot line about the popular crowd are those who peaked before they were real adults. Because it's sad, and yet also makes me feel so much better about my own life.

That girl everyone thought was the hottest thang to walk the halls? Fat. Or maybe stuck at home forever, never finding greater success than she did with the entire football team. Or the hottest, dbag guy everyone wanted a piece of? Failed out of school, living at home, wasting his life. And to think you were convinced you were in love with him. Gross.

Pat on the back for those of us who know we didn't peak in high school. Life is a long time, and I'd much rather know I didn't waste it then.

Also, I'd like to congratulate those of us who were not child stars. Because child stars are like the most popular kid x 1000 and are practically guaranteed life failure compared to the success they realized early on. Clearly there are exceptions, but for every Mary Kate & Ashley there is a Crystal Meth Jodi Sweetin.

And what happens if you play the most popular girl in high school as a child star? According to a reputable L.A. industry friend, the actress who played Cindy Mancini was last seen working as a messenger. I didn't receive clarification if she was traveling by bike.

Bet she wishes she didn't waste $1,000 on that suede outfit now.

ABC Family Taught Me Something Tonight

What did I learn?

Well, for starters, watching a made-for-TV movie starring Hilary Duff maybe wasn't the best use of my time.

More than the obvious, though, was that the movie I stumbled on was the idiot's guide to teaching 13 year olds about faux Manhattan dating. (Again, why did I watch almost the entire thing?) Hilary plays a wanna-be writer hoping to land her dream Cosmo cover story by going "under cover" in the finance world as a way to meet guys in suits. Because that's apparently the only way she can meet a guy who fulfills all the necessary requirements on her checklist. (Note: Let me give you a sneak peak of the items on her all-important checklist. Spontaneous. Fashionably savvy. Sexy accent. Worst checklist ever. What she's looking for is a flakey, metro foreign womanizer.)

Oy.

There are approximately 75 things wrong with the premise. I will settle on only highlighting that writing for Cosmo isn't that cool, especially since everyone knows that print is dead. Okay fine, I will also point out that chasing FJO's in the workplace is the dumbest, most stress-inducing scheme ever, especially if like ol' Hilary, you have zero clue about strategic business planning. Or Excel.

Everyone knows you should just go to MPD to pick them up if that's your target.



Spoiler Alert: The movie's main theme - that going after the guy you think is super "perfect" usually doesn't work out the way you think it will, especially if your boss is way more adorable and you subconsciously want to jump him in every scene - was obviously to be expected.

While I'll admit it was entertaining enough to keep me watching (I have nothing to do now on Sunday evenings without the Kardashians), everything about each millisecond of the movie annoyed me when it came to falsifying living and dating in New York.

I get it, ABC Family wasn't going for authenticity when they filmed it (or 24 year old audiences) ... the real version is far too cynical and depressing to make for good 'tween entertainment. But, c'mon, life's not like that. You don't run into a giant business meeting declaring your love for a guy who almost just fired you the day before and have him literally sweep you off your feet and make out. In front of everyone.

Ugh. Fml. Mostly for having watched almost the entire thing. Or because life isn't as easy peasy as ABC Family leads you to believe. Sometimes I wish it were. But I guess the one thing we can all take away from it is that having a checklist isn't the secret to meeting Mr. Right. You gotta be realistic and flexible enough to manage your own happiness expectations, and also have enough sense to realize a good thing when you see it.

P dot S: The guy who plays her initial "magic man" - HER WORDS NOT MINE, VOMIT - was the same actor who played Luke on the O.C.

"Welcome to the OC, bitch."

I know It's Not Just Me

These untouched images of Britney Spears' Candies ads came out this week. Apparently she wanted them to be released. As you can see below, Brit Brit has a pretty slammin' bod pre-Photoshopping (especially for having two kids and a serious FrappaCheetoes diet) so it's not like she was magically transformed. Just a little Barbiefied.

See for yourself.

Am I the only person who wishes they could get one of their own pictures Photoshopped just to see how good you could potentially look? Please say I'm not.

It's annoying to look at some celebrity photos knowing that that's not actual perfection. Sure they might have stunning features, but we all know that entirely perfect complexion and hairless, wrinkle and flab-free image is a mirage.

It's not real life.

And for one freaking second, I want to live in that dream world too.

Okay, so the following story is semi-relevant but mostly just random and weird.

Soon after we moved here, The BFF and I met a guy who was a celebrity photo retoucher. He was actually a college friend of Jack, the WBDB. We all went out one night, and The Retoucher was quite taken by The BFF. I think he even tried to escort her back home that night, but she sneakily ditched him. Things fizzled soon after with the WBDB, and The Retoucher wasn't thought about again. Except for when I'd secretly wish I were friends with a professional retoucher to make me beautiful in pictures (vain much?).

So fast forward like four months, and the next thing we know, this guy is visiting the Hamptoms summer house that The BFF and I shared with approximately one million people, including Jack, the WBDB. The Retoucher came Fourth of July weekend, which was already tarnished by an ill-planned landlord inspection and dreary weather. Considering there were three times as many people as should have been sharing the Early Nineties Nautically decorated house (the kind with pastels and tacky everything that I love), most of us needed to evacuate befor her arrival.

Unfortunately, there's only so much to do in Hampton Bays, the ghetto of the Hamptoms, when the weather wasn't nice so the group went to the worst diner I've been to. It partially sucked because of the sub-par food, but mostly because of the short-tempered, space cadet fleet of bitter waitresses.

However, even worse than the environment was the company. The BFF and I got stuck in a booth with Jack, The Retoucher, and Jack's other friend. Jack was in a horrible mood that morning and being rude to everyone. His friends were both annoyed with him, but were also annoying themselves. The BFF and I weren't making it much better. It slowly drifted into the most painfully awkward social sandtrap I've ever been suffocated by. We finally reached the pinnacle of pissed off when The BFF said outloud what we were thinking in our heads. "This is the worst brunch ever."

I chimed in, "This is the worst Fourth of July ever." This was especially painful for me since the 4th is one of my favorite summer activities. The brunch only got worse, the five of us got more miserable, and The BFF put in her iphone headphones to tune everyone out further. The polar opposite of how Fourth of July is supposed to be spent.

The day was partially salvaged later when the group ventured to the beach. The BFF and I walked along the water past a group of super preppy cute guys playing football. As we walked by, one "over threw" the pass to his friend who did a running dive to catch it, literally at our feet. It was like if cute Ralph Lauren models jumped out of the catalogue and threw themselves in your lap.

Swoon.

Seriously, that sort of display boosts your ego for a long time. One and a half years and counting to be exact. 

I Didn't Ask What Your Friends Are Doing This Weekend...

[Ed. note: The following is a generic annoyance experienced frequently in the early stages of relationships, not a slam against J's friends. If anything I enjoy hanging out with them - especially when they're simultaneously devouring philly cheese steaks AND a bucket of wings - because they liven up the conversation ...and make me feel better about eating half of a cake. Yes that was last night. Yes it was a poor idea in hindsight, but it was FUNFETTI! You practically burn off all the calories because it's so FUN! Yes, that is science.]

Ever start a new relationship with your dream guy only to find out that you're basically dating all his friends too? Each time you try to make plans, the answer is always, "I don't know, I have to see what my friends are doing."

Ugh. You didn't ask what his friends were doing. You asked what he was doing.

And whenever you do manage to lock-down a legit date night for the two of you, he looks like a sad little left out puppy. Because OMG what if his friends are doing something totally amazing and he's missing all the fun.

Obviously, though, they're not doing anything historically awesome. Depending on their token group activities, maybe they're playing video games, maybe they're watching the game, maybe they're having a massage train (I don't know? Anything's a possibility.).

Or maybe he gets nervous about your ulterior motives, convinced you're devising a plan to steal him away from his boys. What does he think you're going to do, relationship waterboard him into whipped-boyfriend submission or something? What a baby. Hanging out with his lady friend should not be torturous.

It's just one of those differences between the sexes in the early stages of dating. Girls tend to get clingier, more relationship-focused. We want to know what we are doing this weekend. And figuring out something as relatively simple as that can be infuriating when the answer is, "I gotta talk to my friends first."

And while you're doing this, he's like kids in Jurassic Park backing away slowly from T-Rex. It can't see you if you're standing still.

Eventually, though, if the relationship moves forward and gains momentum, you'll both get into a groove, a combination of you calming down your control-freak tendencies and him realizing he wants to make you a priority. He will hopefully start to automatically consider you and your feelings, and will fall into the routine of comparing schedules to fit each other in.

I think one of the best early signs of a good relationship is when a guy asks, "So what are we doing this week?"

Music to my ears.

Just a little consideration is all that's needed. Your goal isn't to cut him off from his friends (nor should you ignore your own), but a relationship is a new, common ground entity. You have to learn it's not just you, and for a selfish creature of habit like myself, it can be hard.

But when it all seems to find itself in place, happiness follows.

Kids These Days

This past weekend The BFF and I journeyed upstate to visit my aunt and uncle who happened to be babysitting my cousin's kids. They told us we could come another weekend if we didn't want to share in on the excitement (read: mayhem), but to be honest, I think it made it even more incentive to ditch the city for the day.

The BFF and I both babysat a lot growing up and kind of miss being around kids. That is, until you see one throwing a giant sobbing tantrum in the checkout line at Duane Reade, and you say a silent, thankful prayer that you're not the parent having to make the decision of whether or not to be the enabler who bribes his kid to behave. Oh what do you know, he caved.

While I'm currently content being the sole proprietor of cranky fits due to being hungry and/or tired (Sorry, J.), it's refreshing to be around the youth of America now that I'm sort of a real life adult who has no clue.

The kiddos (4th grade, 2nd grade, almost Kindergarten) were super cute and became even cuter once they decided The BFF and I were the coolest people ever. Obviously.

"I want to sit next to Rachel! I want to give Rachel a makeover! I want to play with Rachel!"

The attention was quite lovely, even if we did both come home covered in more glitter than if we'd been at a rave in Chelsea.

And we came back not just coated in cheap Hello Kitty makeup, but also full of knowledge about kids these days. Did you know stretchy, animal-shaped rubber bracelets are the cool thing de jour? Did you know that telling kids stories like "When I was your age, pogs were the most awesome thing ever and I had a super sweet rose hologram slammer!" is incredibly uninteresting since that was like 100 years ago? Did you know the phrase "This one is so rare" about any collectible toy like that is the most idiotic thing ever but you totally buy into it whatever it is? Ahh some things never change.

The BFF and I also were educated about the humor of Alvin and the Chipmunks The Squeakquel (that's time I won't be getting back in my life, sadly), and were shown that we do not, in fact, have the world's shortest attention spans. Hooray.

The funniest part, though, were the questions. Kids really are so freakin' insightful.

The best one?

"Which one of you is the evil one?"

Bwahaha.

It's a fair question. The answer? It depends on the day; we take turns.

The One Before The One

As more and more people I know are getting engaged and married, there have been a few instances where I've experienced being The One Before The One. Like I was the last (or one of the last) girls he dated before declaring his eternal commitment to someone else. And it's weird. Most were randoms who I went out with a few times, it went no where, and then bam, he turned the corner and walked smack into his soulmate. (His douchey soulmate in the case of some).

A few weeks ago, J's former GF got married to a childhood friend, which was featured in an in-depth article describing how they ended up together. While the groom's former girlfriend was alluded to as part of the story, J was left out of the piece. And his attention-seeking self was a little disappointed.

Not me. Unless I'm the one getting married, I don't want any part in someone else's love story, especially in the role of "She could have been The One until The Actual One came along."

Although the ultimate One Before The One instance has yet to happen, according to some light Facebook stalking, it seems fairly likely that The College BF will end up with the girl he met soon after I left.

And that's great for him, but hell to the no would I ever be okay with being name checked in their wedding announcement. This week's Times Vows couple story not only mentioned that the guy was dating someone when he met his future wife, but called her out by name! Even Gawker thought it was weird.

P dot S: The couple met at Burning Man where she was dressed as a Jedi knight, which just continues fanning the flames of awkwardness in this love story. Burning, flames, GET IT? Haaa. I'm done.

How to Know If You've Won

Let's be honest, breakups are a competition. Yes, your ex might gain the upper hand in a few rounds, but hopefully you're the one who comes out on top in the end. Whether it's due to your life success, your maintained stunning good looks or his future downgrade, just as long as you can simply say, "I won," whenever his name is mentioned, that's what matters. Not that you have to be super catty, but you're just content with how your life has turned out, and bonus points if it's better than his (especially if he deserves it).

You've won if:

• You dated a guy who broke your heart in the initial breakup (or two), but now he's the one reaching out to you on a semi-regular basis for no apparent reason. He might have been a CGS-enabler a few years ago, but his effort now doesn't so much as make you blink an eye. Especially when it is via incoherent Facebook wall posts. Bonus points: If he lives at home with his parents in a random, not-fun town and you live in New York with your awesome best friend.

• You dated a guy who wrote a song about you post-breakup, when you already had another serious boyfriend. Bonus points: If the lyrics include "I gave you my life, and you gave me a day. I said I love you, you said okay." [Ed. note: It's catchy, right? And we've since become friends again so I'm not the world's biggest bitch.]

• You dated a guy who is now currently dating a formerly fat girl (who also attended your high school) and now flaunts all she has to offer via scandalous FB photos not set to private. Talk about downgrading. Bonus points: If when he calls you to ask clueless questions about his upcoming trip to NYC with said formerly fat girlfriend, you answer, "Sorry I can't hear you very well, I'm at a magazine party." Because even if the party is full of bitchy gay men and heinous, over-priced clothes, you still sound 1000 x cooler than whatever he's up to.

So there you have it, it's not that hard to win. And when you do, it feels good. (And it's also not that hard to be petty. But when you think about it, petty is just like pretty just without the R, and really, what's better than being pretty? So I think it's okay to be petty as long as you're pretty. You're right, this logic is genius.)

Today is Thursday and IAAB.

True Life: I Dated an Idiot on True Life

[Ed. note: Yesterday my friend Lauren sent out one of the funniest/most random emails ever about how she was watching MTV's True Life: I Relocated For Love and the guy on the show not only turned out to be a huge dbag, but a dbag she had gone out with (and if you do the math, they had their date while he was semi-dating the girl who eventually relocated for him)! Too good not to share. Thanks, Lauren. P dot S: Coincidentally, Lauren (who wrote about her boyfriend in the Match.Mom Success Story) will also be relocating for love. Good thing he's genuinely not a tool! Mazel tov!]

Last March I met a guy named Jay who asked me out for a drink. We went, and he was nice enough. I didn’t really think he was my type, but I was painfully single so I was willing to give him another chance. I could look past the freakishly large nose, cargo pants, and the fact that he lived with his parents.

He was an amateur/professional golfer on a tournament tour, was previously on a reality golf show on the Golf Channel, and was close personal friends with my all time favorite musician (who I hope to have play at my wedding reception). So he had his selling points.

We went on a second date about a week later after exchanging a lot of texts, phone calls, etc.. On the second date, it becomes painfully clear that this guy is just not that cool. It was as if he was home-schooled or something: just not fun, not a lot of personality, not properly socialized, couldn’t really keep up with my humor, had no understanding for irony… At one point he told me this five minute story that had like no punch line whatsoever. It involved irrelevant name dropping and concluded with "And then I said..." He obviously thought it was funny (it was definitely not), so I told him, out loud, “You probably shouldn’t ever tell that story again. Seriously.” Anyway, I get through the second date, it’s clear I never want to see him again, he tries to kiss me goodnight, I dodge, and jump in my car.

Literally, less than 48 hours later he is in a relationship on facebook. At first I thought, “Oh shit! I hope he doesn’t think I'm his girlfriend!” No, no, no, my friends. His facebook updates, and he is in a relationship with this girl named Bailey. Not only are they dating, but like five photo albums of them together pop up, too. And it is clear from the pictures that they span over months of time. And to make things more annoying, within a day they had a website and a twitter name together.

I am thinking wtf!? I text-confronted him about it, just because, despite my lack of feelings for him, I didn’t like that some douchebag with a girlfriend asked me out twice and tried to kiss me. He gave me some predictable story about how he was dating this girl before, and they decided to get back together, blah blah blah… It’s always very annoying when someone you have decided you don’t like beats you to the opportunity for formal rejection, when you're plan was to be polite and let it slowly phase out. Oh well.

FAST FORWARD 1 YEAR

Last night, I am sitting on my couch, and I see a teaser for the night’s new episode of True Life: I’m Relocating for Love. SAME GUY. SAME EFFING GIRL. SAME FUGLY HOODED SWEATSHIRT. Thank god I didn’t delete him from my facebook, because I got to watch all the douchery unravel not only on television, but also on his wall. At first, when I looked at his facebook, he was “in a relationship” when it previously had said “in a relationship with Bailey”. Which led me to believe she ended the facebook relationship, and he hadn’t fixed his yet. 10 minutess later I check again, and he has no relationship status. So they broke up yesterday or very close by, I’m guessing. I can't imagine there was any secrecy clause put forth by MTV to keep the outcome of their relationship private until the show aired.

I watch the show. It starts with Bailey graduating from ASU, with a masters degree in journalism. People at her graduation are asking her what her plans are. She says that her boyfriend, Jay, wants her to move to Austin but she doesn’t really want to. She also mentions that they’ve been together for 15 months (we went out 12 months ago). Then, they’re in a restaurant while she is visiting Austin, and he says he doesn’t "want a once-a-month relationship,” and she gets emotional, and nothing is resolved. She badmouths Austin some, which I don’t appreciate, but in general, this girl seems out of his league, JUST LIKE ME.

So finally, after lots of whining and soul-searching, she does move into an apartment in Austin with him, and within the first day he reveals to her that he is in very severe credit card debt. As he is explaining it, he sounds like a total idiot (keep in mind he is like 27 and should understand how credit cards, debt, and not living with your parents is supposed to work). [In my version of a dumb guy voice] “Ummmm derrrrr I meannnn I dunnooooo???? I was making the minimum payments??? I guess I didn’t realize how severe it was???? Guhhhhh ummmmm yeahhhhhh….? And ps – we have to move in with my parents now.”

Bailey of course freaks out, said she didn’t move all the way to Texas to live in his parents’ house, how could he not have told her that before, etc.. She goes away on a weekend trip, and when she comes home, he has leased out their apartment without asking/telling her. She refuses to move to his parents’ house with him, and says she is going to go back home during this transition, and plans to continue to work on their relationship.

True Life displays an update that three months later, she broke up with Jay and is now working as a journalist in Arizona. Anyway, this guy comes across on the show as a huge loser, and kind of a prick. HA. I WIN.

Just a normal Monday night for me…

Toastergate 2009

Toast is one of my fav things ever. That smell, that crunch - it's bliss. They just unpacked the toaster in my new office (the entire office just moved), and I can't wait to make use of it. The BFF and I don't have many appliances in our apartment because we have negative amounts of counter/storage space in the kitchen so I'm clearly more pumped than the average person about this discovery. Yes, it is in fact the little things in life that make you happy...

Anyway, my toaster excitement is even more built up after a certain run in with a certain Psychoface roommate a few months ago wherein I was forbidden from using the one that took up space on our counter.

The incident, which began with annoyance and ended with a too-early-on-a-hungover-Saturday morning screaming match showdown, was one of the final straws in my ability to be nice to Brandi.

It started with me and a package of English muffins, which are just soooo much better with a little crunch on 'em. I used the toaster a few times, thinking nothing of it.

Then one day I came home to find a handwritten note with "Brandi" scrawled on it taped to the appliance. Errr, excuse me, what? A) What the eff? Am I going to start labeling all my stuff? The sautee pan, the Brita?... B) The label didn't technically say "Do not use."

So I continued to use it, obv. I mean, c'mon.

Then, after she had figured out I was still using it, she upgraded her threat level and added a full-size notebook sheet (covering the slots, I might add) with the warning: "Brandi's, DO NOT USE!!!!"

(This note was not nearly as hilarious as the "Brandi's - FOR SPECIAL DIET - DO NOT USE!!!" label she adorned on her maple syrup jug...)

Anyway, later in the week I woke up on Saturday not feeling awesome and wanting some freakin' toast. Since clearly I am a child (a constant threat served up by Brandi when she wasn't berrating us about how "We're not her mother"..confusing, right?), I tried to start the broiler. The fun with using the broiler on our gas oven, though, was that it was very finicky and clicked about 1,000 times before it would light.

Well this heinous noise interrupted Princess Brandi's slumber wherein she stormed out of her room in a huff. Normally I'm not a confrontational person, but Brandi had the ability to make my blood boil.

"WHY can't I use the toaster?" I demanded.

"Because you got it dirty," she replied. I told her I was sorry if I got some crumbs in it, but that's sort of expected since it is a device that works exclusively with bread...

That wasn't her issue, she claimed. Allegedly I had gotten it super greasy. Err, what? You're an idoit.

"Well then you left it plugged in one time. Toasters are the number one cause of house fires."

False. While the number one reason might be due to kitchen fires, it's not blamed on the propensity of plugged-in toasters spontaneously catching on fire...

She finally realized she was wrong and agreed to let me use it.

The next time I wanted some toast, though, IT WAS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

The bitch hid it from me.

Ahhhhh, just another reminder about how beautiful life is now that I'm not forced to endure that pain...freedom.

Happy toasting everyone!

Very Exciting News Update

If you haven't heard about my Very Exciting News from yesterday, read about it here first.

Read about it? All excited to see my puppy's life documented on this very blog?

Well, sorry to break it to you, but ...APRIL FOOL'S.

And, also, FML. Seriously, lots of people  - including myself  - were super pumped about this idea! Like voicemail-leaving, gchat convo-starting excited. I hate that I made it up.

April Fool's pranks are mostly stupid and sometimes hurtful. This was both. I wasn't going to put anything up for it - mostly because lots of typical jokes (e.g. "I'm preggers! or "I got fired!") are things that are muy awkward - and if you joke about them, you're totally jinxing yourself.

So if I've somehow managed to jinx myself into ending up with a Frenchie puppy, wahooooo! Bring it on Karma.

P dot S: I emailed my mom yesterday telling her to check out the blog. She responded with a fairly supportive email welcoming Eloise into the family (although she did make note of the extreme fiscal responsibility and long-term commitment). I told her I was joking this time but appreciated her future support in this endeavor. Bwahaha.

P dot S 2: J is no so happy with me for this. Actually, "I was just online looking to buy gifts for her. I HATE YOU," were his exact words.

I feel kind of bad, though, because this is the second puppy prank he's fallen for. Before he came home for summer break after his freshman year of college, his parents told him they'd just bought a lab puppy. He went to a store and bought it toys... He told everyone that he was going to spend his summer playing with it...He was already attached...

When he got home, he was so excited. His parents told him it was in the living room.

"Where is it?" he asked. "It's right there," they said, pointing to a statue. "We named it Stoney."

Clearly that didn't go over so well with poor J. His parents felt bad because they didn't realize they'd tricked him so well.

Awwwww.

I think he deserves a puppy to make up for all this!

Very Exciting News

In third grade all I wanted in life was to get a dog and to get my ears pierced. Right around Christmas, my parents gave in to our desperate pleas and the family got the most adorable golden retriever puppy Amber. (Amber got knocked up when she was 7 months old by my cute neighbor's dog  - thankfully another Golden - which led to super awkward teenage pregnancy lectures, but more importantly the most awesome time in my life. No seriously, there is nothing better when you're in elementary school than coming home every day to puppies!) Soon after we got Amber, my parents went on a ski trip, and to bribe me into behaving for my grandparents, I was allowed to get my ears pierced. Suckas.

Anyway, here I am - mid twenties with zero desire to get anything else pierced - but man oh man do I want a puppy. I mean, I only talk about it every consecutive day and blog about it every other day. My friend Jersey likes to make fun of girls similar to me for getting dogs because they're only doing it to "smother something with their love."

That is a totally valid reason!

Well, my parents are on another ski trip as we speak (I know, it's spring, right?) Dun dun dun. So they're not hear to interject. And I already have a carpet that sheds (seriously, thanks West Elm), so that won't be too big of an adjustment in that department. And really, what better things do I have to do than go on walks?

Inspired by my friend Lauren's recent purchase of a puppy online, I just bit the bullet. Thanks, Ivan for your help!!!

Say hello to my new pride and joy!!! Eloise, I cannot wait to come pick you up!!